#something something - 'Moon and Wood elves live different lives.

[narenohate]

the reckless, the wild youth (WIP)

(since eda and raine's backstory is so different in this AU, i'm pondering a comic about the two of them and just how and why it went so wrong) (infodump.... ramble?? ig down there + design notes on how my progress is going with this project)

Seb's design notes: anyways i've been dancing with the idea of making canis caninam's witches more animalistic. because yeah im just having fun at this point. bonus, sphynx / owl beast design. i'm not a big fan of her canon design, and it's not because i think she's scary.

my current inspo for the witch faces is a mix of good ol' na'vi 3d models, deerchip's s work (they're on twitter!!) and olya bossak's anthropomorphic portraits!! i didn't just want them to be elves who purr, tbh... though more and more as i post this i'm kind of hoping to get harrassed off the fandom for my weird ideas and "forced" to make this into an original story.

ramble on story derived from conversation with Bow (idea beta tester, victim of the circumstances of my hyperfixation, beautiful white hetero man who got here by accident). IT'S A ROUGH, UNEDITED DRAFT. PARTS OF IT ARE DIRECTLY FROM A CONVERSATION. IT'S ROUGH. Eda is born to the Clawthorne family - daughter of Gwendolyn, a healer, and Dell, a toy maker who married into her clan as to escape the hardships of living outside the barrier, amidst bestial demons... and probably something else, smart enough to scare him into hiding, though that usually goes unsaid. She is one of a pair of twins, and, for the first fourteen suns, eleven moons and twenty-nine sundowns of their lives they are inseparable.

It's their fifteenth birthday when Dell gives them an old grimmoire that has been in his family for centuries. Some of its words have been altered with the years, rewritten and repaired by generations, their meaning lost - symbols re-drawn from memory with each unfortunate accident.

Lilith partakes in that tradition - having to repair a page of a long-winded wild-spell meant to be cast by a powerful warlock, after she spills some tea on it.

that night, the two set out to camp with a group of their friends -hyacinth, a selk nobleman who, despite his young age, served under belos as his huntsmaid and personal cook, and his apprentice, darius, a prodigy who'd already been branded for a coven, and who'd been personally selected by belos to be a companion for the golden-haired boy who'd earned his favor.

and, of course, trailing slightly behind, raine whispers. their glasses are foggy and they already smell like the alcohol they brought to the party.

nobody leaves the outermost wall to camp these days, of course, so the bunch of them settle in an abandoned park, before doing as teenagers do when provided alcohol, and getting plastered.

at some point, eda, raine and hyacinth get into an argument of some kind - one that results in eda opening the grimmoire she brought along, and going along with the plan she'd nearly abandoned: using her rudimentary knowledge of the old tongue the tome was written in, she makes a circle out of salt around herself, and reads the spell.

its words are all wrong. whatever she summons she angers, and, at first, nothing happens.

then, as she and raine lay together on her hammock the afternoon after the party and the tiny backyard camping "trip", eda falls ill.

it was fever and it was vomiting. then the lining of her stomach, then her gums and her teeth and her tongue. her skin sagged and it was like she was all liquid inside it.

raine slept by her bedside, singing to calm her down whenever she awoke. lilith laid in the old manor's basement, endlessly brewing potion after potion to try and quell the pain that refused to ebb away.

darius and hyacinth did not go to belos - instead they were stopped at the door by the clawthorne patriarch, and with his help, took a griffin out of the city, found an old thing. it called itself queen of bats, and it was made of wood, and it knew dell very well.

the three give her the griffin, and spend four sunsets and three sunrises walking back with their prize - it's a living tether, a wooden owl dell had made as a toy for his daughter when she was very young. filled with the griffin's soul, it was given by its enchantress the mission of tethering its holder.

they arrive to a burning house. darius and dell don't speak of it, but the only time they both see the emperor is when they deliver his selk concubine's mutilated carcass at the throne room, laid at his feet like an offering.

dell lost one eye to his daughter, the other eye and both hands to the emperor.

raine was gone to everyone except the thing that eda had become, a sphynx that spared their life for the price of their song. they land atop a rocky cliffface, a few miles away from the outer border of the bonesborough wall - soon, something finds them.

the owl her father had carved for her followed eda, and raine became sure, at that moment, that she wasn't lost.

lilith and darius compensated for hyacinth's loss, sitting for years at the foot of the throne as the emperor's guards, until belos found it fit to entrust them both to make for him a new selkie servant - they took hyacinth's old heart, a blue stone that ebbed and flowed, and they took the lungs of a dragon, the innards of a maiden, and all the blood they could get from a seal-devil, along with a tiny fragment of bone that had been strapped to hyacinth's old heart.

they spend day and night putting him together - the rough face of clay mixed with blood, the organs gracefully gifted, the bone.

they bury the sculpture. a boy digs himself out of the dirt while they sleep in the temple, curled up together in a mess of ratty old sheets they'd found.

they name him hunter because he was more demon than boy, but had hyacinth's face, and, though something seemed very wrong, he had somehow killed and dragged in a rat to eat by their side during the time they'd spent asleep.

belos allows the name to stay, and grants them both titles and robes of white, and allows them to mary whomever they wish.

lilith secludes herself to a temple and studies every grimmoire she can, and darius takes on apprentice after apprentice, teaching them how to pull the throat strings of a bard out, and how to best slay a sphynx.

hunter looks just like hyacinth, and, despite how strongly he'd imprinted on his makers, they both hate him from just the look in his eyes.

lilith finds the portraits of every other selk concubine, every other golden guard.

it's always hyacinth's face. meanwhile, raine managed to unearth eda - partially.

they bind her to them, and she remembers very little, but she is undeniably herself, and despite the tragedy of her body, or maybe because of it, she seeks to cause chaos. she embraces the life of a wildling, and raine follows in her stead.

a year passes. then two. three, maybe. probably more, considering everything that comes after. what really matters is that, as raine grows more frantic in their search for something that can help her, occasionally coming in contact with the fragmented clawthorne family's matriarch (before finding her treatments too harsh), all in search for a way to stabilize eda's mind and body...

she accepts that fate she was given.

the system of castes and castings and divisions becomes pointless to her, and she eagerly, easily pushes raine to rebellion by her side. the wards around the walls have nothing against her - usually, griffins and dragons don't fly that high.

raine found gwen's attempts to heal her daughter too much - but at some point, more than a decade after the two set out together, a night after raine settles a chain with a golden ring around her massive paw's wrist, they catch wind, through that shared palisman of theirs, that raine's mother has passed.

they leave eda to sleep atop the church, tail around its tower, and enter it to pray.

they meet someone - a who who dances on the edge of being a what - and, in their grief, bear to her their heart, and are offered a deal in return.

all they want in life, for a price, their mind.

eda wakes up, a moon later, transformed, and with every memory made vague, erased except for vague outlines.

naked but for a wedding ring around her neck, in a dark, low chunk of the city, with the body of a beast, she's seen as exotic enough to work the night for a couple years, as she catches up on a life she lost, and takes the name of a harpy, not knowing she's a clawthorne.

… clawthorne health clinic seems so familiar of a name, though. she jots down their contacts. attends every speech given by darius deammonne, head of the carnomantis force, and often borrows from the library books on forbidden magic written or translated by one lilith clawthorne.

it's not familiar.

she feels like it should be, though. so she digs into it all - never takes the name of clawthorne, but as her social standing falls and she teeters ever closer to living outside the walls, the people around her take to calling her the owl-lady.

she eventually takes to stealing from old homes - the abandoned sort, full of hobs and rats and hexes she can easily bypass, with magic as strong (as well-trained, despite the lack of any memory of schooling) as hers.

there's a farm-house, though, mostly burnt, long ago vacated, that feels very familiar when she enters. she tears up despite not remembering her, when she recognizes her twin's face beside her own in a portrait. in the rubble of a bedroom, a large woven hammock still has an old violin sitting broken on top of its torn fabric.

inside its case, the thing she knows she gave up her memories - or maybe something more - for, sits waiting and patient.

... a key to the human realm. she knows a lot about it, and remembers an unbound fascination.

(her one visit goes very wrong, of course - but she can spy through her palisman's little eye, so it's worth it. it's all worth it.)

meanwhile, raine wakes up, married to a woman whose face is foggy to them, with three apprentices who don't know their name but promise they've been there under them for weeks.

whomever wiped their mind didn't bother to take the human-styled wedding ring off their finger.

[spacebarbarianweird]

Astarion with Wood Elf!Tav headcanons, pls?

I decided to stick to the prompt and write about Wood Elves as promised, but let me know in the requests if you want Wild Elf!Tav as well!

Astarion x Wood Elf!Tav

Masterlist

Headcanons

TW: a mention of suicide and PTSD

As a Wood Elf, you grew up deep in the woods in one of the many hidden villages of your people.

Since childhood, you learned to trust humans and dwarves and know how to survive in the forests.

You are good with animals and have your own familiar - a lynx called Mould (because of her weird patterns on the fur).

When you were sixteen, your woods were destroyed by orcs. You survived by hiding high in the trees, afraid of going down.

From now on, your path is the path of revenge.

To orcs, who destroyed your home. To humans who sicced them and solved the issues with Elves with their dirty hands. To dwarves who refused to help.

And to High Elves who didn't help a young orphan

You kill. You destroy. You are cruel and violent like a drow, not a Wood Elf.

Your rage and your blindness are used by the wrong people.

Your bow and your arrows become a weapon of destruction.

You leave a blood trace wherever you go.

Until you are kidnapped by mindflayers.

You aren't afraid. You want to die. You just wait until the cruel will of the Illithyds turns you into something monstrous.

But it doesn't happen. The tadpole blocks some of your most unpleasant memories and suppresses the bloodlust and disgust.

You've never felt so good!

As a leader, you gather your small company to get to Baldur's Gate.

You feel something is off with Astarion - Wood Elves have a good intuition concerning the Undead.

You feel compassion - you also left a trace of blood. You allow him to feed on you, and with every day you get closer.

He reconnects with the Elven culture through you, though Sylvan Elves and Moon Elves are different.

You braid his short hair and adorn it with little pieces of jewelry the same way men of your kin did.

On the other hand, he tells you about history and geography things that aren't known to isolated Or-tel-quessir.

You help Astarion to heal, and you feel like something is healing inside you. Your past, your sorrows.

But the moment the tadpole disappears...

It is all back.

The blood on your hands. The cries of your victims.

You want to die.

While the streets of Baldur's Gate are festive, you walk like a ghost.

You don't deserve to live. Not after everything you've done.

You want to end it all. You find a solitary place where no one will ever find you, and you take a dagger.

You faint as the blood leaves your body, and you feel like death lulls you to forever sleep.

You hope that your soul is too corrupt to be reincarnated.

But-

You wake up.

Alive.

Astarion has saved you.

He found you by the smell of blood and managed to find help before it was too late.

You remember his desperate cry for help, his attempts to stop the blood loss.

As you recover, he takes care of you. He spoon-feeds you, changes the bandages, and never ever says anything about your suicide attempt.

He knows why you did it. And he won't allow you to do that ever again.

Together, you leave the city and go into the wilderness.

You help each other heal. Astarion soothes your mental pain, and you help him with nightmares.

You have a few more attempts to off yourself, but Astarion always finds words to stop you.

With years, it gets easier. You redeemed yourself in your own eyes by helping people. You found the strength to keep living.

As for Astarion, he comes to terms with your mortality.

You will live for centuries, and you have a lot of time together. 

And you will return. You will reincarnate and, if he is still alive, you shall meet again.

A century post-game, you find yourself in the familiar woods.

You know this place.

It is your destroyed home.

You cry and grieve while Astarion holds you, not letting you fall into the dark abyss of your sorrows.

He helps you build a small shrine, a reminder about people who used to live there.

And you feel good. You feel free.

Astarion suggests going to see more of this world. Other continents, maybe, other planes.

And you agree. You leave your past and go into the future with your Thiramin, once and forever love.

--

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @astarion-beloved @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati

[book--brackets]

The Chronicles of Faerie by O. R. Melling (1993-2003)

American Gwen and her Irish cousin, Findabhair, have long planned a summer of backpacking around Ireland, visiting sites out of the old legends of fairy folk. Little do they know that it is the summer of the Hunter's Moon, a dangerous time for mortals who meddle with the kingdom of Faerie. One night, camping out on old ruins, Finn is kidnapped by the Faerie king, who wants her for a bride and possible sacrifice. It is up to Gwen, the more indecisive of the two, to rescue her cousin.

The Farsala Trilogy by Hilari Bell (2003-2006)

Stories are told of a hero who will come to Farsala's aid when the need is greatest. But for thousands of years the prosperous land of Farsala has felt no such need, as it has enjoyed the peace that comes from being both feared and respected.

Now a new enemy approaches Farsala's borders, one that neither fears nor respects its name and legend. But the rulers of Farsala still believe that they can beat any opponent.

Three young people are less sure of Farsala's invincibility. Jiaan, Soraya, and Kavi see Time's Wheel turning, with Farsala headed toward the Flames of Destruction. What they cannot see is how inextricably their lives are linked to Farsala's fate -- until it's too late.

Everworld by K. A. Applegate (1999-2001)

David’s life was pretty normal. School. Friends. Girlfriend. Actually, Senna was probably the oddest aspect of his life. She was beautiful. Smart. But there was something very different about her. Something strange.

And on the day it began, everything happened so quickly. One moment, Senna was with him. The next, she was swallowed up by the earth, her screams echoing from far, far away. David couldn’t just let her go. Neither could the others. His friends—and hers. So, they followed. And found themselves in a world they could have never imagined. 

Now they have to find Senna and get home without losing their lives. Or their minds. Or both…

The Wizard Knight by Gene Wolfe (2004)

A young man in his teens is transported from our world to a magical realm that contains seven levels of reality. Very quickly transformed by magic into a grown man of heroic proportions, he takes the name Able and sets out on a quest to find the sword that has been promised to him, a sword he will get from a dragon, the one very special blade that will help him fulfill his life ambition to become a knight and a true hero.

Inside, however, Able remains a boy, and he must grow in every sense to survive the dangers and delights that lie ahead in encounters with giants, elves, wizards, and dragons.

Star Wars: Jedi Apprentice by Dave Wolverton and Jude Watson (1999-2002)

Twelve-year-old Obi-Wan Kenobi desperately wants to be a Jedi Knight. After years at the Jedi Temple, he knows the power of the lightsaber and the Force. But he cannot control his own anger and fear. Because of this, the Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn will not take him on as a Padawan apprentice.

Now Obi-Wan is about to have his first encounter with true evil. He must face off against unexpected enemies--and face up to his own dark wishes.

Only then can his education as a Jedi truly begin.

Skylark by Meagan Spooner (2012-2014)

For fifteen years, Lark Ainsley waited for the day when her Resource would be harvested and she would finally be an adult. After the harvest she expected a small role in the regular, orderly operation of the City within the Wall. She expected to do her part to maintain the refuge for the last survivors of the Wars. She expected to be a tiny cog in the larger clockwork of the city.     Lark did not expect to become the City's power supply.     For fifteen years, Lark Ainsley believed in a lie. Now she must escape the only world she's ever known...or face a fate more unimaginable than death.

Westmark by Lloyd Alexander (1981-1984)

When Theo agrees to print a traveling showman's pamphlet, he only thinks of the money it will bring in. Instead, it sets off a chain reaction that results in the smashing of the press and the murder of his master. Caught on the wrong side of the law, Theo must flee the city. Soon, he has teamed up with the traveling showman Count Las Bombas (who is actually a con artist) and his servant. The trio is soon joined by Mickle, a clever, strong-willed girl with a mysterious past. Performing feats that astound and amaze, the motley crew falls into a trap set by Chief Minister Cabbarus, who is determined to wrest power from the grief-stricken king. Now they must not only save themselves-they must save the kingdom...

The Goblin Wood by Hilari Bell (2003-2011)

One terrible day, Makenna, a young hedgewitch, witnesses her mother's murder at the hands of their own neighbors. Stricken with grief and rage, Makenna flees the village that has been her home. In the wilds of the forest, she forms an unexpected alliance. Leading an army of clever goblins, Makenna skillfully attacks the humans, now their shared enemy.

What she doesn't realize is that the ruling Hierarchy is determined to rid the land of all magical creatures, and they believe Makenna is their ultimate threat - so they have sent a young knight named Tobin into the Goblin Wood to entrap her.

In this captivating fantasy adventure, the difference between Bright and Dark magic is as deceptive as our memories, hopes, and fears -- and the light of loyalty and friendship has a magic all of its own.

A young hedgewitch, an idealistic knight, and an army of clever goblins fight against the ruling hierarchy that is trying to rid the land of all magical creatures.

Hexwood by Diana Wynne Jones (1993)

When Controller Borasus receives a strange letter from Earth he is both curious and alarmed. Someone has activated an ancient machine and is using it for most trivial purposes. Surely no one would dare to tamper with Reigner seals in this way? Yet the effects of such interference resonate throughout the universe, so he decides to go to Hexwood Farm to investigate…

On Hexwood Estate, Ann watches the mysterious comings and goings with interest. She knows something deadly is going on – or is Hexwood simply altering her too?

Guides for Dating Vampires by D. N. Bryn (2022-present)

Vincent Barnes has suffered four years as a vampire, and they’ve been the most miserable years of his pathetic life. Too poor for black market blood, he feeds from sleeping humans to survive. He tries to never intrude on the same prey twice, but after a single delicious taste of a long-lost childhood neighbor, he can’t help returning for seconds.

Wesley Garcia has been waking up with fang marks. Lucky for him, he needs a vampire—to use as bait. He’s certain Vitalis-Barron Pharmaceutical killed his mother, but to gain access to their covert research labs, he has to bring them a bloodsucker for their experiments. 

Step one, a dramatic offer: Stay, and you can bite me. 

Vincent leaps at the chance to gobble Wesley up.

Wes’s plan is perfect. He’ll befriend the vampire, then trick him into coming to the lab. No fighting, no fuss. But Vincent is more than Wesley has bargained for: sweet and shy, with intoxicating fangs that awaken new desires in Wes. As the two bond, Vincent believes he might have finally found someone worth putting his trust in... and Wes fears neither of them will survive the betrayal he has planned.

[snowfolly]

A Simple Life

Astarion x original f!Tav | one shot, 2,931 words

Astarion and Tali are taking a break from the road to stargaze for a moment. He reflects on what was and what could have been with his little gray songbird at his side.

Cw: references to Astarion’s past abuse, some cursing

Tags: tooth-rotting fluff, hurt/comfort, soft Astarion, post-game, headcanons, self-indulgent af, Astarion’s Pov

Notes: Headcanons galore about noble elves in Evereska and Astarion’s past- if that’s not your thing then this may not be the story for you friend! • No beta on this one-shot & I am certainly not a professional writer • Also just as a little side note- My Tav, Taliesin, is genderfluid and uses any pronouns. They have used a ring of opposite gender for around 60 years (which they use about half the time), so I write/draw them as either gender :>

Read on ao3

-

“Imagine though, if we had stayed back in Evereska we could have had a simple life, well, at least compared to the ones we’ve lived. Perhaps my bitch of a mother would have sold me off to your family to wed you — for a handsome dowry of course,” Tali mused, staring up at the night sky and the thumbnail of a moon that bled the faintest silver light upon the land, “can you even imagine? We would have been absolutely miserable.”

Astarion laughed, his arms behind his head as he laid upon the long autumn grass, the scent of comforting vetiver and leaf rot was strong but not unpleasant so close to the earth. He stared at the constellation Correlian just over the horizon, thirteen bright stars standing out amongst a million others, giving him some kind of vague nostalgia, although he couldn’t pinpoint why exactly. Likely something left over from his past, from the time before; broken memories that would sometimes seep through in the form of indefinite feelings.

“Oh certainly, we would have hated each other. I would have resented you, you’d have resented me, we’d keep to different rooms on opposite sides of our sprawling mansion. We’d drink too much, despise our jobs in the family business, take other lovers and hate each other for that as well. It simply would have been a grand old time!” he jested sarcastically, one hand on his chest and the other waving about for humorous emphasis before glancing over at Taliesin.

Tali was such a slight creature, dressed in an oversized ruby hued poet shirt and high black breeches, her long, cool gray hair was back in her typical loose braids, balled up unceremoniously at the nape of her neck and held in place with a red silk tie. She sat cross legged and leaning up against the trunk of a tree nearly barren of leaves, her violin propped up beside her.

“We would have bickered nonstop, both of us bored to death as we played our roles,” Tali made a dramatic gagging sound and sat forward, hugging her knees and resting her head on them as she glanced down at Astarion with an impish grin, “but here we are.”

“Indeed, here we are, love,” Astarion replied quietly, turning to lay on his side, better facing his partner.

“Just two elves that have been really shitty at being elves,” Tali conceded with a smile, and Astarion nodded with a slight eye roll. She certainly wasn’t wrong about that. Neither of them worshipped the Seldarine. Tali was as decadent as he, self absorbed and mean spirited at times as well.

They were both city dwellers and cared not for the woods, but while she had played her music in taverns and inns for over a century in Baldur’s Gate he had been prowling them as a vampire spawn for much longer. The only time they had frolicked in forests was out of necessity, to get from point a to point b.

Lying on the grass with her and staring up at the heavens, contemplating the vastness and meaning of it all was as elfy as either of them got, he supposed.

“So…what exactly would have been your fate if you had stayed home? Seeing as to how I wasn’t there to come sweep you off your stamping mad little feet?” Astarion asked, nodding his head rhythmically with each of the last four words out of his mouth and Tali shrugged, her face not showing a hint of perturbance, which was good. Her past, much like his own, could be a point of contention.

“I was arranged to wed a noble merchant’s son when we both came of age, poor boy was sweet as mead but dense as cow dung. You might have known him, he was a bit older than me and a smidge younger than you. Not a brain in his head. Spent all day elfing-about in the woods, absolutely loved all that shit. Thank the gods I had the wherewithal to run away.”

“A dire fate that would have been,” Astarion said with a half smile, his gaze distant, deep in thought.

Evereska was such an obscure, foggy memory for him. He had very little recollection of it but he could vaguely remember the sprawling estates in the upscale part of the city, and one of them, not so far from his own family home was Tali’s — a house of noble merchants.

“Do you remember what would have become of you if you had stayed in Evereska?” Tali asked him with a hint of hesitation, but it was a question he had anticipated after he had asked her the same so frankly.

Astarion stared off into the field, garnet eyes faraway, his head propped up on his hand as the gears in his mind turned, but they weren’t turning nearly as efficiently as he would have liked. They never did when it came to the past, to the time before.

“Well, I’m not sure what my parents had planned for me, if anything. I… I really just don’t remember. I know that I left when I was very young, and I don’t know if I left on my own accord or if I was sent off. I just recall that it wasn’t a positive farewell,” he said solemnly, glancing back at Tali who was absentmindedly playing with the grass under her right hand.

“Do you… ever plan to go back to see them? Your family?” Tali asked without looking toward Astarion, and he was glad for it. His face fell and his heart sank at her words. His family.

A few stray crickets brave enough to bear the autumn chill were the only sound heard between the two as Astarion stayed silent for some time while he processed Tali’s question. He knew that she was curious about his past, but she never pried or prodded and it was only fair to answer her truly now.

“I have thought about it, of course I have,” he swallowed, looking up at her with round, pleading eyes and then back up to the sliver of moon hanging above, “I don’t think I could face them. I don’t know that I could…”

Astarion stalled a moment, irritated at his hitching voice before taking a deep breath out of habit. Oxygen was useless to his undead lungs but necessary for all the talking, “they’ve thought me dead for over two hundred years now. I don’t even know them anymore, Tali. I’m positive I left on very poor terms, I was buried in the city after all and that never would have happened if…”

“You don’t know that,” Tali interrupted, grimacing as she locked eyes with him, “there could have been many reasons for that. I remember when you died… well, vaguely as I had no idea who you were then, but I do remember your family mourning.”

Astarion’s languid heart skipped a beat, he felt like he had been punched in the gut at this revelation. Tali had never told him that. Astarion had known that Tali knew of his family but never knew that they had mourned for him. He had never asked about something like that though, of course he hadn’t.

“They mourned?” he asked in a small voice as he rolled over on his back once again, feeling defeated, feeling empty, at a loss. He wasn’t sure that he wanted to hear any more of this. That part of his life was over anyway, dead in the ground like his kin thought of him, right?

“Of course they did. Your mother…” Tali looked at Astarion with a sadness that she rarely displayed, a look that hurt him further, and she must have picked up on his discomfort because she changed direction.

“Gods… I. Look , I was only a child but I remember everyone making a big deal of losing an elf so young,” Tali sighed, hesitating a moment more before continuing, “so I don’t think you left on awful terms, Astarion. If you ever wanted to go back…”

She was right… possibly. What if the negative recollection that he did have of his family was incorrect? It wouldn’t be surprising, as his memories of the time before were so shattered. But why would she even suggest going back to a place that she had run from for so long?

“You’ve been avoiding Evereska for how long now? A century?”

“One hundred and twenty two years thereabouts,” Tali said nonchalantly, taking a particularly hard blade of grass and poking Astarion with it in the side of his neck without warning.

“Gods, Tali, you little shit,” he growled, slapping at the grass with an irritated grin, “then why do you care if we ever go back? Your mother will have your head…”

“I don’t care about returning for myself you idiot, I care about what it means for you. For you to see your family, not mine,” she exhaled, ripping the long blade of grass in two with furrowed brows as Astarion glared at her momentarily before his eyes softened. He grabbed at her arm with his clawed hand, beckoning her wordlessly to his side.

Of course this was about him.

Tali was as selfish of a creature as Astarion was, unless it came to matters involving him, and then she was patient, she was generous and she was kind in ways that he knew that she sometimes felt vulnerable for. He could certainly relate to that, as he often felt the same way with her.

He couldn’t, however, quite understand why she loved him though. He would never be able to fathom why she chose to love him after he had threatened to kill her when they had first met, after every shitty thing he had done to try and manipulate her, after all the baggage he’d brought to the table, but he would not ever question her affection. He would accept her love gratefully, and give all of his in return.

Tali obeyed his beckoning hand and rolled over to his side without another word, lying against him with her head resting on the crook of his arm as he clutched the seemingly infinite amount of fabric of her oversized sleeve. They laid together in silence, watching the moon creep slowly above the grasping bones of bare branches for an indeterminate amount of time, and his mind lulled back to his atrocious past, as it was wont to do during stretches of silence.

And gods, he had endured so much silence in two hundred years, so many endless nights of hushed horrors. He found quietness in busy taverns hunting for prey, he heard nothing when his victims moaned in ecstasy under him, and when they were taken away screaming from the boudoir he would lay in silence, a million miles away. Worlds away.

Like the year he spent clawing and screaming into the dark… there was nothing but silence for so very long.

Astarion bit his lip, bringing his mind out of despair, reining his thoughts back to his gray songbird who chirruped love songs to him before every sunrise, his strange little pet, who could play every instrument put before her and made so much pleasant noise. Tali gave him so much joy, shared his wretched sense of humor, made him laugh every night with endless raucous stories and bawdy jokes. She filled his life with so much sound.

His little songbird now lay shivering against him though, and it pained him that he could provide her no warmth. He held onto her tightly as she clung to him, burrowing her head into the crook of his neck as he touched his lips to her silken hair, nearly loose from its red tie.

“I do appreciate you thinking of me like that, you know. I really do, love” he whispered to her and she nodded slightly, exhaling her warm breath against the cold flesh of his neck, sending chills over his skin.

“Of course. I love you. That’s what people do when they love each other, Astarion,” she said in way that could be construed as flippant if it wasn’t said so sweetly.

“Truly though, if you ever want to go back, we’ll go. Just say the word. I’ll be fine, my mother hasn’t sent anyone looking for me for twenty years or so. I’ll use my ring or something to lay low,” she yawned, “just say the word.”

He smiled into her gray hair, dark as charcoal in the low light, inhaling her scent, clean and floral, and he felt almost overwhelmed with it all. Not in a negative way at all though. Two hundred years of horror, neglect and misery had all led up to this moment of comfort, of truly being happy. He guessed that what he felt was overwhelming gratitude, for his freedom, for another chance at life, for her.

“Maybe if we ever find the cure for my condition…”

“When we find the cure,” Tali murmured, correcting him, and Astarion exhaled, knowing deep in his heart that the cure might not ever come, no matter how many years they searched — but he’d humor her anyway.

“Fine. After we absolutely, definitely, one hundred percent find the end to my curse then I'll think about going back. Perhaps. Maybe I’ll write them first, though. Wouldn’t want to give them a fright, thinking I was some sort of phantom,” he ventured facetiously as she curled up against him closer.

Astarion couldn’t feel the chill in the same way Tali could, and though she was no weakling he couldn’t help but worry over her being too cold. He shifted slightly, ready to announce that it was time to go when she spoke up in a voice barely above a whisper.

“Do you think it would have been so bad, really?”

“What?” He asked, raising an eyebrow, momentarily confused.

“If we had stayed home, if we had been arranged to marry. I was joking but really, it could have been possible you know. We’re not too far off in age.”

Astarion blinked, his mind going over an entire century of what very well could have been in just a moment. Gods how mad they both would have been at the prospect. But would they have really hated each other after they had gotten to knows one another? They hadn’t liked each other very much when they had first met nearly a year earlier, but now. Now he couldn’t picture his life without the little shit.

“I don’t think so. It wouldn’t have been so awful,” he answered quietly, holding her tighter, helpless to comfort her as she shivered slightly, “but we would have never stayed there.”

“Oh we wouldn’t have stayed at all. Never in a million years. But I don’t think we would’ve hated each other. I don’t think I could ever hate you,” she said groggily, and he smiled to himself as she continued, “do you think you could have hated me?”

“No, I don’t think I’d ever be able to hate you either, songbird,” he said without hesitation before pulling away from her slightly, causing her to protest with a groan.

“But it’s time to move on, pet. The next inn’s a few miles up the way, It’s getting early and you’re freezing to death. That won’t do.”

“Are you sure that you don’t hate me?” Tali whined, curling up into a miserable ball and clutching her hands at her chest as Astarion rose to his knees, beckoning her up.

“Get up. I know you’re hungry too. If the innkeep’s up and about we’ll get you a potato, butter, salt, the works. A glass of hot mead, mulled wine…” Astarion smirked as she opened her eyes wide, he knew that mentioning food, potatoes in particular, would do the trick.

“Well. Fine,” Tali finally relented, her hands reaching up to him with lethargic waggling fingers as he stood to pull her all the way to her feet.

They collected their belongings waiting at the base of the tree and Astarion dug a cloak out from her pack for her, placing it on her shoulders before they made their way back to the road in silence. Tali grabbed his hand as they ventured forth once again.

“We’d have been hand in hand getting the hells out of Evereska too, I think,” she said after some time, and he was amused that the subject was still on her mind, especially after putting the idea of hot buttered potatoes and mead in there. Astarion looked down at her, her rose hued eyes bleary but as spirited as always.

“Darling, they’d have been lucky if we didn’t burn the entire damned place to the ground before we left,” he said with a dismissive wave of his free hand and Tali laughed out loud.

“Oh, so lucky.”

The simple life would have never been for them, not in any way, shape or form. But perhaps if fate had brought them together so long ago they would have had an amazing century with one another, running all over Faerûn, getting into gods only knew what mischief. If only things had been different. If only he hadn’t died in Baldur’s Gate, hadn’t suffered for two hundred godsdamned years…

Tali squeezed his hand tightly, bringing him back from his dark thoughts once again.

Everything leading up to that moment is what they were given. Nothing could change the horrors of the past, but hand in hand they could now do their best to make up for all that lost time.

With Tali by his side everything would be alright.

[reiningsoral]

imma just *drops my modern fantasy world infodump here*

it's almost midnight and ive been really tired this past week from starting choreo for rehersals... apologies if this is incomprehensible

ok so. there's this thing that causes magic to exist in the world. im thinking of calling it the Veil or something?

anyway it made its way to this world somehow (they still tryna figure that out) and its magic kinda trickles into this world, and is the cause of magic.

theres all different kinds of magic people and stuff.

vampires

werewolves

telepaths

telekenetics

mages

witches

wizards

mermaids/sirens

faeries

elementals

uhmmm ssometing to do with the moon and stars i havent figure this one out

magic users

shifters

time jumpers

gods and goddesses kind of

elves

demons

magic users can (usually) use one type of magic at all, and there's certain kinds who can use any at any given point

magic users with one magic set/skill are called "singles" or "tals"

(some can do multiple types, but only one very well)

the term "singles" comes from only being able to use a single type of magic (creative i know) and "tals" comes from the word "talent" because, often, talent is natural and the type of magic a tal can use is natural and cannot be chosen

magic users who can use any are often called "jacks" or "nons"

the types of magic you can use as a magic user are:

mending

a mender can usually do one or two of the following: healing (living flesh), stitching (mending non living things), and melding (sewing two things together i.e. making a piece of wood and metal attach to each other)

plant [see image one at end of post]

can manipulate plants, self explanitory

light

can make bursts of light, alter how someone's eyes are percieving light, and ultimately turn invisible

mind

can manipulate people's thoughts (to an extent), and can read minds, basically

molding

and shape and mold material with bare hands

animal

can talk to animals, and on rare occasians, posses some animal abilities (i.e. can jump higher, hear better, see more, ect.)

shadow

can manipulate and move shadows, and essentially turn into one)

veil

can manipulate and move the veil itself, altering some aspects of magical reality for a small amount of time

speaking

very VERY exstensive vocal ranges, can use their voices to manipulate objects

ok so most other magical species can also use some of these to an extent, they cant get anywhere near as good as a magic user, but there is a skill set there.

telekenetics can move shit with their mind, and there are two "types" of telekenetics. some who are more down to earth or attatched to materialistic things have parts of their physical body glow when they activatr their powers, [see images two and three at bottom of post] and they have a band of like light that floats and shit, and telekenetics who are more spiritual and shit have a kind subtle of feel to them, but no glow. all telekenetics have a band of light floaty magic.

faeries are pretty much what you think. based in celtic mythology and that shit. there are mulitple types and stuff.

elves have pointed ears, are naturally good at nature-based magic types, and are very like,,, magic dense. they have very overpowering auras, especially to telepaths and mind magic users.

theres a certain species who believes those with vitiligo are blessed by the moon goddess. more on that in the works

elementals are also probably what you think. thwy can do water, earth, fire, or air based magic. some other-based magic people can also use an elemental based magic, but never to a very high extent.

plant magic users are different from earth elementals, but there are similarities, which makes it easier for either type to use the other as a subtype magic

werewolves. packs. packs are family, they dont "have" to shift on full moons, but the full moon does make them feel really good. like drugs without the drugs part. packs are family, but not neccesarily blood family. any werewolf can start a pack. the pack alpha is the leader of the back, next on heirarchy is the beta and then everybody else. dont even try to relate this to a/b/o i will murder you.

vampires have clans, they are (neccessarily) blood-sucking monsters. some do go crazy but that is under dire circumstances. getting turned does not mean you're dead (technically), but you age much slower. [see image four at end of post]

time jumpers are like time travellerrs kinda but also not really, unlike time travellers (which dont exist really) who move through time on a back and forth highway-esque situation, time jumpers move through time as though it as though it were a like, spider web? i dont quite know how to explain it uhhh. time travellers, in theory, just force reality to move them though time, while time jumpers ask reality nicely to mold them through to where they wanna go, i guess.

shifters are people who have a certain animal (fantastical or not) that they cna shapshift into (what do you mean this is obviously influenced by me being alterhuman idk what youre talking about). shifters uusually have some nonphysical traits that relate to their shifting type (i.e. a dragon shifter might hoard things, a cat shifter mightt be easily startled and chase things, a crow shifter might trade you small trinkkets as thanks).

demons are beings made of magic, which makes them really dangerous because thay are literally made of, and have full control over, something that magic users hardly have a grasp on

OK ONTO WORLDBUILDING (theres a lot less of this kinda stuff here rn)

theres a whole separate magical world with a like hiding in plain sight kinda vibe. they ustilize the natural way the Veil moves alongside ming and light magic to hide it from non-magical people.

an academy (no name yet) exists where magical people can attend to learn more about their magic and hone it and stuff, there's magic based sports events and stuff as well.

a kind of research institute exists to study magic andt the Veil. some might call them unethical ubt it's. whatever.

people who go to the academy for longer than four years do often end up as a researcher.scientist at the institute.

image one estelle (ellie), plant magic user.

image two Keir, telekenetic (fire subtype)

image three (tumbr wont let me put the fucking drawing in so you gotta go to the post sorry TvT) Leo, telekenetic.

image four Cass, vampire.

if i remember, @xt0t4llys4n300x wanted to hear me infodump about this? sorry fot the ping if not lol

[oll13v3r]

Comic idea???

OKAY OKAY OKAY

I am pretty sure Ive posted about this a lot, but I have some progress related to ideas!!!

I could maybe call it something along the lines of "Ladybugs and __" (I haven't decided what goes in the blank spot yet) because ladybugs are closely tied to raelyn!!

It's going to take place in a world entirely made up of elves and animals. (I dont know how much magic the animals have yet)

The different types of elves are as follows(For now) :

Wood elves

Wood elves live in rule-oriented village. Because they are able to harness and control the wild and unbelievably beautiful powers of plants or nature, their society is based heavily on keeping that control, or else it all falls apart. Appearances: wood elves tend to have a variety of skin tones. They also have rounder ears that tilt up and down with emotions.

Some examples of wood elves: (Raelyn they/he) and (Elder-Berry he/him)

Lunar elves:

Lunar elves live in small cities where everyone helps each other out. They believe it is very important to be educated on various different things, including psychology, so people can help themselves and others regulate. They are nocturnal. They get their powers from the moon (maybe some form of natural diety or in universe God, but I dont know yet) and they can create light with that magic. (Probably more but I'm not sure yet) Defining characteristics: Lighter skin as to be more moon oriented, and due to less sun exposure, softer down-turned ears, and hair with glowing particles in it.

An example of a lunar elf: (unnamed, he/him)

Solar/fire elves:

Solar elves live on their own in small nomatic families of about 10-15 people in a group. They primarily act as traders, going between elf groups, almost like peacekeepers of sorts. Most solar elves don't get a lot of experience with other ideas besides those that they hear from their families, because of the constant moving in and out of areas, so generational issues are very common within them. Powers: they are the least powerful of the elves, which is why wood elves tend to look down opon them. They can create fire. That sounds likea very powerful ability, but because they don't have any teachings besides those from their parents, a lot of groups don't know how to use their abilities.

Heres an example of a solar elf: (Orian, he/him)

Demons (Maybe) :

Demons are a type of elves that got sent away from the (maybe) gods/dieties of the world because they were seemed as dangerous and unruly. They live in almost wastelands, and have developed into different types of elves over the centuries based on Christian sins. They all have an extremely toxic environment due to generational trauma, but those who are able to fight it form in small groups of found family. They have different magic depending on different type of demon, and for now I haven't fully fleshed them out. Physical traits: Demons have horns (color and shape differentiating between types), red/pink skin tones, hair covered tails, and piercing eyes.

An example of demons: (front, Oliver he/him) and (Unnamed, he/him)

Water elves (Maybe) :

Water elves are my least favorite elves, so I haven't given them that much thought yet. These elves are so drastically different than other elves, because they were sent down to the sea as a blessing from the dieties for being considered to be perfect. Because of that, their entire culture is based heavy on being greatful to the dieites and elders that came before you, even if they don't treat you with that same respect. These elves tend to think of themselves as better than other elves, leading to a lot of messy confrontations whenever they do interact with other kinds of elves. Their culture is also big on beauty standards, more so than other elf types. You're seen if you have long eyelashes, bright colors in your skin, and a well kept and loved tail. There isn't all negatives, though, because they can be extremely loving and curious of different things outside the ocean, especially younger eater elves. Their magic allows them to gain a tail on command, gain legs on command, and to breathe on both water and land. Physical traits: Extremely colorful skin, fin-like ears, long, beautiful tails, and pupils with interesting shapes.

Example of a water elf: (Millie, she/her)

If you have any ideas, such as naming recommendations, I'd love to hear them!! Feedback would also be wonderful!! I will be adding more to this because I have so many ideas, but much thumbs hurt from typing all this out. Feel free to make ocs for this!! I don't think a comic will be out anytime soon, but it is a passion project, so any kind of encouragement means the world to me. (likes aren't very encouraging by the way) But have a wonderful day!!

[marshmallow-bg3]

Past Life Dark Urge Asks - 2nd Edition

by @daemon-in-my-head

Did your Durge interact with others of their assigned race? How did it go, did anyone notice something was off? Did they try to blend in? As half-blood Roux never truly belonged to any distinct race. His cute pointy ears suggested at least part of him was elf, but what kind of elf - he had no clue up till meeting Sceleritas who reluctantly told him he was wood half-elf - but only very technically and totally unimportantly - because what truly mattered was Roux being the purest Bhaalspawn of all. He was raised by humans and interacted with plenty other half-elves and elves but in a big city all cultural and racial differences were smudged unless someone tried to make a point of it, but then it was them who seemed off.

The Urge itself was Bhaal’s greatest gift, a testament to their lineage. But did they despise or delight in these violent urges, did it maybe even scare them? Answered here

Bhaal can control his chosen and force the Slayer or actions upon them; did he ever force your Durge to do something against their will or would they obediently follow? Answered here

Durge has an inherent skill for anything medicine; what was their greatest skill? Sewing, caring for wounds, brewing potions or concocting poisons? Blood flow is his thing. He's as good at staunching the most dangerous bleeding as he is at making people bleed out in record time. All those vivisections weren't for nothing.

The Deathstalker Cloak is part of their inheritance, but did they really use it or did it bide it’s time wasting away in a wardrobe? It has always been one of Roux's favorite Bhaalist items. Orin took it along with his dagger after she attacked him in the colony, but she never had much use for it thanks to shapeshifting, so Sceleritas had no trouble snatching it to return to his true Master. The butler hoped it would help him regain his memories sooner.

Durges adoptive family lived in a house in the lower city. Does that house still stand? Did they claim ownership of it, or did they try to get rid of it? Why? The one in the lower city belonged to the family he hated, so he left as soon as he got rid of them and never looked back. If the house is still standing it was probably claimed by someone else. Roux doesn't care either way. The house he truly considered home is in the upper city and still occupied by his last foster parents. Roux avoids that area, nothing good would come of it if someone from his good bloodless past recognized him.

Bane once sacrificed all of Bhaals assassins, a mistake that caused a great rift between them. Did Durge ever plan to get revenge for it? This one is a bit too lore-heavy? I have no idea what it is about and failed to quickly find answers, so I'm gonna skip :(

Being the head of a temple comes with lots of tedious work, did they truly manage all of it or did they try to outsource the best they could? Roux is incompatible with anything tedious in general. Most of the temple management was done by Sarevok (through Orin) and Sceleritas who claimed he was acting on Roux's orders. In practice Roux had very little involvement in anything ever. He was there for the murdering.

The Feast of the Moon is a bhaalian ritual where priests told the stories of particularly interesting or unique kills. Was one of your Durges deeds ever discussed, or perhaps even turned into a beloved and often retold story? And once again Sceleritas - Roux's evil little PR agent - made sure his kills were sang in legends. Most of Roux's pre-tadpole reputation was actively and lovingly crafted by his master manipulator of a butler.

Speaking off, Day’s Farewell was another ritual everyone of the clergy had to attend as evening dawned over Faerûn. But was it really everyone that came to the gathering, or did a particular Bhaalist sneak out at times or outright refuse attendance? Did they maybe even appear early, eagerly awaiting another service? When he had just joined the Temple it was a novelty, he was a novelty, Roux was trying to truly fit in, he was getting the attention and adoration from these gatherings so he enjoyed it a lot. Later when both his enthusiasm and the genuine interest in him had waned, he started delegating it to Orin along with other ceremonial activities.

[kaleidoscopic-words]

Live like it is your first and last time

If this experience was the only time to possibly experience it, are you feeling like you are living it to its fullest? 

If you died in 6 months, what would you do with your time ? 

Is there a creation of yours you would want to leave to humans? 

If you had all the security and money wasn’t a problem, what would you do ? What would you like to offer to the world? What is that thing you always wanted to do but still are waiting to put it into life ? 

If you died in 3 months, how would you experience your days ? 

What would still be important to your heart to do ?

To feel ? To see ? To be ? 

Why do we live our lives like its a mundane accident like we have forever time when it’s a crazy unique experience that will one day see its ending  ?

The art of allowing more space inside us to dream big 

at the same time than cherishing and seing with new eyes everyday

the big, and complexity in the small things. 

Being curious 

Being present 

to our inner world 

and to everything in the world around us 

like it’s the first time you see the planet Earth. 

Whether you choose a quiet life or nomad experiences, 

or both, 

whether you choose this career over another, 

this city over this one,

it is the quality of presence, to the so-called mundane things that makes life such a more full experience. 

Being curious to the details that would miss the eyes if we walk or go around to fast. 

Experiencing the world trough the full range of everything that 

go across around us, and inside us. 

Trying something different everyday. 

It could be 

taking a different road than the usual.

Or cutting the carrots in a different size. 

Or making a new recipe we never tried.

Or wearing this shirt in this new way. 

Or skipping instead of walking. 

Stopping to smell the flower. 

Or trying to put your hair in a way you never had the idea before. 

Going to run in the rain, spontaneously. 

Trying different, new songs you’ve never heard

a different style,

intuitevely picking a new book on a random sunny day.

Drinking coffee like it is the first time 

drop after drop.

Eating the croissant like it is the first time you hold one

Bite by bite.

What is it like to have a body 

and be able to dance and experience 

moving each part like 

its the first time you have fingers, legs and a belly ? 

Maybe painting with your fingers instead of with brushes

or making a drawing just for fun while sitting on the porch.

What is it like to have a voice and sing variations? 

What is it like to scream ? 

What is it like to whisper ?

Listening to the sound of your friend’s voice like it’s the first time you hear another human talking. The movement of lips pronouncing syllabes that makes words. 

Feeling the touch of the ground to each step you take.

Feeling the touch of each point of skin.

Feeling the air of this specific land.

Feeling the shower water magically dropping on your face.

Feeling the variations of wind melodies of the silence in the woods. 

Feeling life like each moment is new. 

Being alive as we have the opportunity right now.

Being alive like a real human being. 

A bit wild, a little bit more free. 

Walking barefoot form time to time, 

how does it feel to not wear shoes ? 

Waking up earlier to catch the colours of the sunrise, 

Lighting up candles instead of lamps on full moon days

trying a different fruit.

eating with the hands like a salvaje. 

going somewhere we’ve never ever been without any map.

Breathing in 

and 

playing piano without any map 

only with the intuitive dance of fingers like little elves moving around.

Living like it’s not mundane 

Remembering :

we are floating in space.

-Faye

[xxdungeon-stuckxx]

The Púka

General Info

Púcaí are small shape-shifting Fae creatures that inhabit the Iribus forest. A Púka appears as a lemur-like creature when in its natural state. They are tricksters but are by no means malicious. As a race, Púcaí are bound to the aspect of void.

History and Culture

Púcaí are one of the many fae creatures that have not created any large civilizations. They have no capital cities, like the elves, for there are very few settlements that have been created by the Púcaí. They enjoy nature and the creatures that inhabit it. They are close to the earth that surrounds them, and they intend to keep it that way. Púcaí can often be found in their homeland, the Iribus Forest. Here, they take to the enormous trees that surround them, making their homes in the canopies and in the hallows of these ancient trees. Púcaí villages, though they are not very numerous, are small in size and hard to get access to for many other races due to how high up they are. The populations of these villages usually consist of families with young children, the injured, the disabled, and the elderly. The Púcaí who are the weakest tend to stick together after all, and communities are useful to them. Everyone benefits in the end in this situation and each are able to use their strengths to help their people. Most Púcaí are loners or travel with their mates, for their instincts draw them into the vast wilds of Mystica. However, there are some Púcaí who help out in the small villages of their people. In fact, it is customary for a Púka to make a journey to stay in a village to help out their people for one lunar cycle before they return to the wilds again. They do this in order to help the weaker members of their people and to do the right thing. They may be loners, but they wouldn’t abandon their people.

Púcaí are social by nature, despite their natural instincts to go off on their own. They like to socialize with others of their kind, the creatures of their homeland, and even other races. They are fun-loving and enjoy parties and celebrations. During holidays, they often gather in large numbers, filling the small villages where these holidays take place in. Púka holidays aren’t exactly few in number due to their love of socialization. Most of their holidays are in celebration of the seasons, the moon fazes, and various harvests. They are a thankful race of people and most of their holidays are in thanks to the earth. 

As a rule, a Púca is a creature who enjoys playing tricks and pranks on others, even other Púcaí. These tricks are seen as nothing more than good fun to the Púcaí and are non-violent. They don’t steal from or harm others through these tricks. They may redecorate the house of another while they were away, move a quill into the other room to make someone think they misplaced it, or make anoying sounds, but they would never do something cruel.

Púcaí are skilled craftsmen, especially in the art of woodcarving. They create tools and art from the trees of their home, using their teeth and stones to shape the wood. The trees are a source of magic and nutrition for them, and thus, they often use the wood shavings from their work to season their food. They also will boil the wood in a vat of fruit juices and spices to create one of the most well-known Púcaí cuisines, botchlank. Púcaí cuisine is a delicacy in Mystica, encompassing many different spices and other sweet flavors from the fruits of the Iribus Forest.

Not all Púcaí live in their native homeland of the Iribus Forest though. There are many Púcaí who live in residencies of other races and within their city walls. Commonly, they can be found selling their wood carvings or fresh botchlank on city corners, making their money off of sharing their culture. The stereotype for the Púcaí is that they are street urchins who steal from the unwary. This is often due to their fur color and how they blend into the shadows, the way they travel by foot in a slinking kind of manner, and the fact they prefer to live in smaller, “poorer” appearing housing units. The Púcaí are typically judged because they are Fae-bound creatures who live an almost “wild” lifestyle. They are deemed as untrustworthy since they don’t have any major societal structures. The Púcaí are much more complicated than they may appear at a glance though. The size of the homes they prefer is like that of the tree hollows they create in their homeland, not very wide but with a high ceiling. They don’t like to take up unnecessary space, as that is a culturally instilled trait in the Púcaí. They use all the space they can, often creating what may look like cluttered living areas according to other races. In major cities, this can make their homes look trashy to others of a higher standard, but the Púka knows that everything has an organized place to go and is sanitary to live in. Overall, the Púcaí are seen as an inconvenience to other races due to their stereotype and the tricks they play on others. Púcaí aren’t sensitive to what others may think of them though, for they know that the people who matter the most will see them as they truly are and not as a caricature. Anyone who looks down on them is not worth their time. It can be hard for the Púcaí to live in cities due to their stigmas, especially when it comes to making a living in these crowded environments.

Púcaí like to decorate their homes with wooden beads, rocks, and the shells of nuts. They use string to create garlands of these objects. Many púka even wear them as jewelry. They aren’t flashy or gaudy with their decorations or body enhancements. They prefer to show the beauty of the natural world and what it gave them. They don’t use makeup, but piercings on their ears are quite common. They can be found with piercings made from simple stones and wood, never metal due to their sensitivities to silver and iron. Púcaí do not typically wear clothing unless it is for protection or practicality. Their clothes, when they do wear them, are simple and are naturally colored with various browns, greens, purples, and reds. 

Biology

Púcaí are small shape-shifting Fae creatures that inhabit the Iribus forest. A Púka appears as a lemur-like creature when in its natural state. Púcaí are small creatures that stand at around 4ft tall in adulthood. They have thin, wiery limbs that they use for climbing trees. Their fur is black as night, with their piercing yellow eyes acting as two golden moons etched into the sky. They have sharp, broad teeth that sick out from their lips slightly. Púcaí resemble lemurs, though they aren't related in the slightest on their evolutionary tree. Their feet act like a second pair of hands and are used for grasping the branches of trees. Púkas have long but thin tails that are tufted with fur. Like all Fae creatures, they have a set of antennae and wings. Each of their antennae is tipped with an electric blue color due to the sheer amount of magical energy they have contained within them. Their wings are like that of a cranefly’s, and they are slightly iridescent. 

Since Púcaí  are shapeshifters, they can take the shape of a goat, a horse, a dog, a hare, a cat, and even other Fae and non-Fae races. They can take the form of any sentient race that they have seen, with almost perfect accuracy. Though there are a few obvious tells someone when a Púka has taken on a different form. No matter what shape they take, they always display animalistic features. This can be in the form of ears, tails, or muzzles. Their skin and hair always remain in their hyper-melanated state, and their eyes remain a piercing yellow-gold color. Púcaí, because of their limitations, tend to take on the forms of Beastfolk when they choose to take on the shape of another race. Despite their skills in shapeshifting, they are limited in comparison to other creatures, such as Changelings. 

Púcaí  are omnivores by a technicality but prefer to live a herbivorous lifestyle. They are gatherers and collect fruits and nuts from the forest they inhabit, and cook them or even eat them raw. They do have not to worry about food, since the forest is abundant. They take only what they need, and even offer their food to other creatures and people. Unlike other Fae creatures, such as dwarves, they don’t have a dire need to consume any direct sources of magic. Due to the nature of the forest and how they evolved, Púcaí have a surplus of magic dwelling inside of them. Their wings absorb the magic around them, picking up even the smallest traces to use to fuel their body. Most of their magic gets used for shapeshifting, but shapeshifting is a skill that the Púcaí have learned to use. With practice, Púcaí can use very little magic fuel for shapeshifting while having a ton left over. This allows them to also use their magic to cast various spells. Púcaí are not the greatest at detecting magic though and compare to the magic detection skills of Goblins. Their antennae do pick up electromagnetic frequencies and pheromones quite well though, allowing them to detect small creatures or changes in their environment.

Behavior

Though they are closely related to Pixies, Púcaí are far from their terrifying cousins. They are mischievous, but nowhere near malicious. They enjoy having fun, but not if it hurts others. Púcaí care for all life equally, and would never do anything to intentionally cause harm to others. Their jokes are just that, jokes. They can be inconvenient at times, but they are nothing more than a minor annoyance at best.

Púcaí are curious creatures, but they aren’t knowledge seekers by any means. They like to see what would happen in certain circumstances and they like to explore the realm of possibilities more than they care about knowing how things work. They enjoy fantasy for this very reason. Púkas also enjoy the mystery of life, of living things, and see life as a blessing. 

Púcaí are great at hiding from things so that they can watch the world around them undetected. They don’t like to cause disturbances and want to see things play out as nature intended. They often use their magic to shroud themselves in camouflage, or they utilize their natural camouflage and shapeshifting abilities to blend in.

[tastesoftamriel]

What have you found to be the more popular meals, snacks, and desserts among the children of Tamriel? I can imagine a khajiiti cub getting scolded for sneaking a moon sugar cookie from the jar.

The children of Tamriel live diverse lives, but have one thing in common: a love for snacks and treats. Of course, every Province offers something different, making even the youngest among us ready for a future in culinary adventures!

Altmer

The High Elves are known for the strict discipline of their children, but they are for the most part pampered and adored. This definitely extends to the diets of Altmeri children, which are really quite impressive and prepares them for a future of haute cuisine. The average meal is an ideal balance of meat or fish, starches, and vegetables, while still being delicious. Grilled cheesy venison patties, a warm salad with brie and roast pears, and lightly fried potato chips with tomato sauce are typical children's fare in Summerset.

Argonians

Children are one of the most important groups in Argonian society, and care extends especially to snack time for the young! A common treat for young Argonians is a sweet sago porridge with mashed taro and sweet potatoes, lotus seed paste, and coconut milk. It's nutritious and delicious, so much that some Argonians still consume it well into adulthood!

Bosmer

Wood Elf kids love munching on sweetgnat "bark", a type of jerky that's made from a dried and smoked paste made from a local insect that is surprisingly sweet. The bark is mixed with honey and fat, and is chewy, nutritious and flavourful. Also especially good for teething infants.

Bretons

The old jokes about Hags preferring to steal Breton children because they're plump and juicy, likely due to the treats that they're plied with. From dried fruit bars to chocolate cookies, you'll find all sorts of sweet delights. Yet surprisingly, the most favoured food among kids in High Rock are "fingers" made from deep fried, breaded fish paste. They're dipped in a mild lemon-pepper mayonnaise, and are a great snack or meal alongside some baked potato fries!

Dunmer

Dark Elf children aren't quite granted the same luxury as others in Tamriel, as there aren't any specific foods for kids- in Morrowind, the tradition is that you eat what's on the table, no exceptions. That isn't to say that snacky morsels don't exist. Scuttle puffs are a cheesy-flavoured snack made from puffed saltrice that's mixed with scuttle and baked until crispy. The end result is absolutely moreish, and chances are you'll be eating them by the fistful! Try them dipped in some fiery Stonefalls-style chili-scuttle sauce for a grownup version of this treat!

Imperials

In Cyrodiil, children traditionally enjoy a balance of sweet and savoury snacks, such as roasted nuts, honey-basted jerky, frozen fruit, and all sorts of baked goods. One of the most popular hits with Imperial kids is a scoop of frozen fruit-based yoghurt (usually berry or stone fruit) that's served in a wafer cone. Sometimes it's topped with fresh or frozen fruit, or a dusting of chocolate chips. It's especially good on a hot day!

Khajiit

Kittens in Elsweyr get a taste for moon sugar early in life, especially when mixed with milk. As such, milk-based desserts and meals are at the forefront of every growing Khajiit's diet. One example of this is a creamy, steamed egg and condensed milk pudding, served with a good drizzle of moon sugar syrup. These little ramekin-sized puddings, usually served cold, are too good to resist, and are the undisputed champion of Khajiiti children's desserts. And yes, they come in big portions too.

Nords

The children of Skyrim, even orphans, are looked upon dotingly by most of the population. I remember snack time at the Temple of Mara as a child: in addition to sweetrolls, taffy, and honey nut treats, we also enjoyed delicious, bite-sized cinnamon buns with honey and cinnamon. They were an enormous luxury, and where I got my penchant for baking!

Orcs

Young Orcs have healthy appetites, and their meals and snacks are served in big portions to make sure they grow up right! One traditional snack that's always popular among the kids (especially those with growing tusks) is mammoth or echatere jerky. The meat is seasoned with spices, smoked, and dried, until chewy but supple...most of the time. I've had echatere jerky that was so hard I nearly broke a tooth once, but it was of course not a problem for the Stronghold youngsters.

Redguards

The Alik'r is a place where you grow up rugged, and even the wealthiest Redguards prepare for a life of harsh sun and sands. Children therefore have a special place in their hearts, and get plied with treats like sugar dumplings. These little parcels of glutinous rice dough are filled with an exploding coconut sugar syrup centre, and are rolled either in dried coconut or powdered sugar. A choking hazard to be sure, but life in Hammerfell is dangerous after all!

[jerreeeeeee]

Elves are from Sylvanus, the fifth planet from Tusun’s stars. It’s on the closer end of the habitable zone, and contains a single continent and few islands, but the way the continent is shaped means that there are a lot of coastal areas and not too many dry interiors. Most of the settled parts of the planet are fairly temperate, since the majority of the landmass is nearer the poles. A band of equatorial jungle and a handful of islands are home to the green and sea elves, respectively, and wood elves live across the rest of the planet’s thick woodlands in areas that haven’t been settled by the high elves, who mostly live in the few, but large, cities.

Elves are unique from other races in that they are not as “advanced” as many others. Most “wild” (a term for non-high elves, often used by court elves in a derogatory manner) elves’ settlements are isolated, and the high elves have an extremely controlling and traditionalist ruling class, so not much advancement in the way of technology is made. However, Sylvanus has many deposits of highly valuable magical ore, which elves use to trade with other races for their technology and use themselves to develop their own magical advancement. That, and they also have a powerful magical military. Despite this, Sylvanus was one of the first planets to develop space travel, one of the only large advancements they made on their own (though their ships are known for being unpredictable, because they’re mostly held together by magic).

The elven lords possess an ability to “order” other high elves. Most would have their subjects believe that an order is a compulsion, but it’s more like a form of very powerful suggestion. An elf can still resist an order if it demands that they do something they’re extremely opposed to.

Not all high elves are of the upper class. The lords are the highest authority, and each has a court; officials who manage what are essentially fiefdoms. These high elves, though no different biologically from any other, are of a higher class and referred to as “court elves.” Most high elves are not court elves, but instead are workers in the cities that support them. Many are miners, farmers, janitors, or any number of “low-skill” labor, or servants to the courts.

One thing that all elves have in common are large, animated ears. They are the most important part of elven body language, being highly visible indicators of emotion. Most court elves learn to stop their ears from moving unwilled at an early age. Elf ears are very sensitive and easy to injure. Allowing someone to touch their ears is the greatest sign of trust in elven culture. Ear rubbing is a common form of familial affection.

Elves are capable of producing a sound similar to a cat’s purr, though deeper. Court elves are very conservative when it comes to displays of emotion, so purring is considered unseemly or embarrassing. For most other elves, it’s a normal reaction to feeling especially content, relaxed, or safe. Some elven clerics and monks can channel their healing through it, leading to a myth that elves purr to heal wounded people.

Drow, or dark elves, are actually a different species, living on one of Sylvanus’ moons for which the race is named. It’s theorized that their population was established centuries ago after an elven spaceship crashed there, and over the thousands of years without contact, they became their own species. Drow have a separate government and culture to “Sylvan” elves, and are recognized by most as a different race.

A few “wild” elves have moved to elven colonies, or settlements populated by many different races, though they are still looked down upon by court elves. Wild elves aren’t controlled by the lords, so they can come and go as they please, provided they are able to get ahold of a ship; Sylvanus’ trade connections rarely include wild elves at all.

Elves have many established territories, notable ones of which include a colony on a moon of Tri-Sellun, a sizeable settlement on the otherwise uninhabited N2-02 (a moon of which is the orcs’ homeworld), a section of the Intersystem Station, several settlements throughout Solsun, and a newly established colony on one of Bacilus’ moons.

[elfy-elf-imagines]

Begin Again | Thranduil

Pairing: Thranduil x Elf!Reader

Genre: Fluffy new beginnings

Warnings: ---

Words: ~2k

Note: If you’d like to be added to a tag list for any of my works, there’s a link on my page 💕 Also, I’m big dummy and lost the original request, so I couldn’t remember what all you wanted in this one-shot. So requester, whoever you are, I’m so sorry! And if you’d like another part to expand on your full request, please let me know!

  It’s strange.

  You’re whole life, you’ve always heard about how horrible it is for an elf to lose the one they love. It’s been described as feeling as though you’ve been ripped into two pieces, forced to live on without your second half. You’ve heard it feels like tiny needles stabbing into your heart until you can’t feel anything but a stifling anguish that seeps into your bones, poisoning your body from within until you eventually fade away.

  Yet you feel none of that. You feel nothing at all, like a soul wandering aimlessly for the rest of eternity, cursed with never finding a purpose or reason to stick around. But being forced to endure, none-the-less. You can sail, as an elf that’s your right, and perhaps you would find peace, wrapped in the warm embrace of Valinor as you forget all your fears and pain.

  But you don’t want to be happy, because being happy means you forget, and you're not ready to forget your beloved yet.

  The forest floor beneath you is damp from the rain that blessed Eryn Galen a few days ago. The mud sinks in between your toes as you nearly melt into the soft ground. The forest around you is lush and green, wrapping you in its warm embrace that allows for a moment of respite from your thoughts.

  The forest is empty, only the gentle sway of the trees and emerald leaves falling to the ground your company. You stare up at the sky that peaks through the canopy of leaves, the stars are out tonight and they burn brighter than you’ve ever seen them. And you wished to climb to the tops of the trees if only to feel the soft glow of moonlight on your skin.

  But that would be a foolish thing to do, a whimsy only a child would fulfill. So you simply stand in the clearing, selfishly hoarding the only spot you’ve discovered that the sky is visible.

  You thought yourself alone, something you covet more often than not. 

  And yet.

  “Forgive me, I did not realize this spot was currently occupied,” a baritone voice sounds behind you.

  Your heart pounds against your chest, the owner of the voice easily recognizable through your deep daydreams. Whirling around quicker than you’ve ever moved, you see King Thranduil standing at the edge of the clearing. He’s lacking the usual extravagant attire he usually dons, instead opting for a slightly more casual outfit. But he still wears clothes that could’ve been woven from silver and gold, the cloth glittering in the dim light.

  “My king,” you say, immediately bowing your head down in respect, thoroughly inspecting your dirtied feet. “I will take my leave.”

  “There is no need, it was I who interrupted you,” he moves further into the clearing and closer to you. His movements are smooth like a cat, his icy blue eyes lazily focusing on you.

  “Yet you are the king,” you reply, voice hardly above a whisper.

  King Thranduil is an intimidating figure, anyone within five feet of him would agree. Not in the way that lady Galadriel of Lothlorien is - her power so great you can’t help but feel suffocated, yet it is her kind smile that soothes even the most skittish. Lord Elrond carries himself with a warm presence, like a father he is kind and caring, but stern as well.

  No, King Thranduil carries a sense of tragedy with him that can’t be masked by his cold eyes or looming figure. He is the shining example of how horrible things could get for an elf when their other half passes. So far gone is he, they whisper, that not even his son can pull him from his melancholy.

  “Then as king, I order you to stay. It would be nice to have some company,” he responds, leaving no room for argument. So you nod your head in agreeance, but keep your head lowered, tracing every speck of mud covering your toes.

  “Would you not even look at your monarch?” he asks, but his voice isn’t laced with anger or malice and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think there’s a hint of humor in it.

  “I apologize, My King,” you say, lifting your head to meet his gaze. Your eyes meet his and for a second, you jolt, a sensation filling your body, something you haven’t felt in years.

  “I have never seen you before. How have I never seen you?” he questions, thick brows furrowing in frustration and confusion, but his eyes remain locked on you, as do yours.

  “Y/N, My King. I just arrived here a few moons ago from the Lorien,” you respond. He says nothing for a few moments, keeping his intense gaze locked on you. And for a brief second, you swear that he could read each and every thought that passes your brain, that’s he seen every memory you have.

  “Well then, allow me to formally welcome you to Eryn Galen, Lady Y/N. Tell me how have you found my kingdom, thus far?” he asks, sweeping his arm out in a grand gesture as he welcomes you.

  “It is very beautiful, My King. The trees are so tall and the leaves so green,” you say, glancing up towards the sky, enraptured by the emerald canopy above you.

  “Do they not have trees this tall in the Lorien? I was under the impression their forest was quite beautiful,” he replies, sharp eyes locked on you.

  “They do but not quite like here. Do not misunderstand me, the Lorien possesses great beauty, the mallorn tree is magnificent to look upon, but Eryn Galen offers a different beauty. I find myself in great need of change these days, it would seem.”

  “Perhaps one day you could humor me and tell me of what would need to warrant such a drastic change?” You turn to look at him, meeting his steely gaze, and he raises a single eyebrow at you. However before you can open your mouth to speak, he turns and leaves. Leaving you behind in the small clearing, and for a moment, your heart starts fluttering in a way it hasn’t in a long time.

  And you turn back around, watching the leaves dance through the sky, free from the confining grasp of the branches. A small smile rests on your face, losing yourself in daydreams you never thought you’d see again.

  “Lady Y/N, how lovely of you to join me,” King Thranduil's voice is crisp and clear, perfectly projecting across the large room. He sits languidly at a chair, carved from wood with delicate engraving dancing on the tops of them. A glass of wine in one hand and the other slung over the top of his chair, he is the picture of ease.

  “It is my pleasure to join you, My King,” you reply, lowering your gaze to the floor once he meets yours. With slow and tentative steps, you move towards the open space to his right, where a glass of wine already poured. Your heart is racing, sweat building up in the palms of your hands as you open and close them. What feels like a lifetime later, you reach the chair, a guard so still he could’ve been a statue, pulling it out for you as you sit in it. 

  “Thank you,” you quietly say as the guard pushes your chair forward.

  “Please, leave us” Thranduil’s voice is commanding and firm, not allowing any room for questions he does not wish to answer. Silently and quickly, every guard in the room filters out. And as their light footsteps disappear, you and Thranduil are left in the room...alone.

  A small burst of courage surges through you, your gaze leaving the fine china it was tracing over and over again to meet his gaze. His eyes are just as icy blue as you remember, but somehow they seem softer than they had been in the forest. Or perhaps the light is playing tricks on you.

  Everyone knows that elves only truly love once.

  Your mouth is dry, nerves suddenly overtaking you. What are you supposed to say; to do? You’ve never spent much time in the presence of royalty, often preferring to stay in the shadows, content with a simple life. Yet fate seems to have other plans for you. Or is this just simply Thranduil, and the gods have nothing to do with his intentions - whatever they may be?

  “Do not be so nervous. Please, drink. The food will be ready momentarily,” Thranduil says, motioning towards you with a wine goblet in hand. You nod, still silent as ever.

  With a shaky, damp hand, you reach towards your wine goblet, grasping the cold metal in your warm hands. Taking a deep breath, you pick it up, bringing it towards your lips. The wine is smooth as it pours down your throat, cool and soothing to the dessert inside your mouth. It’s slightly sweet, not at all holding the bitter aftertaste the wine of Man possesses.

  You set the glass down, turning your attention to Thranduil. He watches you with sharp eyes, an expectant look on his face.

  “It is very good, Your Grace,” you mutter, and in exchange for speaking so quietly, you manage to keep your voice steady.

  “Excellent.”

  You smile, and it’s all nerves and anxiety, closely resembling a grimace rather than a beaming grin. Your heart is fierce against your chest, and you fear in that moment he will hear it. But if he does, he doesn’t comment on it.

  “If I may be so bold, Your Grace, might I enquire as to why you’ve called me here?” Your voice is louder this time, but there’s a slight waver towards the end, betraying everything you feel.

  He’s silent for a moment as if he’s gathering his thoughts, figuring out a way to deliver whatever is running in his mind. You nearly crack, the apology for overstepping your boundaries on the tip of your tongue when he finally speaks.

  "Am I not allowed to simply get to know my subjects?" Thranduil asks, a sly smirk resting on his lips. He brings the goblet of wine to his lips, slowly sipping it. He lowers it slightly so that it rests just below his chin. 

"Of course, but I suppose I'm just curious as to why you've invited me to a private meal with you. Am I correct to assume you don't do this with every one of your subjects?" you say, your eyes wide like a doe, with hands in your lap. Your fingers intertwine with each other, a way to distract you from the anxiety in you. 

  Thranduil continues to watch you, an unreadable expression in his ocean eyes. He inhales deeply, leaning farther back into his chair. After a few moments of silence, he opens his mouth. 

  “I find myself wanting to get to know you better. I find you intriguing.” Your mind turns blank, all sense and reason leaving it. For a moment you don’t believe you’ve heard him correctly, not grasping that a king would be so curious about you.

  “I do not understand, what about me is so interesting? We’ve only met once, hardly having a full conversation,” you say. Your voice is firmer than before, drowning with disbelief.

  “Then it would seem you’ve made an impression.”

  You open your mouth, and then promptly close it, not sure how to proceed. Your heart is fluttering, though due to anxiety. Not this is something… different, a type of nervousness, but not due to fear. A light feeling that also leaves you light with giddiness and not weighed down by dread.

  But it can’t be.

  Elves only love once. Yet the mantra you’ve repeated over and over again seems to be losing its weight, the words no longer feeling as true as before.

  “Would it be alright, if I were to get to know you better, My Lady?” he asks, his voice softer than before, his fair face still neutral, yet less austere than it had been the first time you met.

  Elves only love once.

  And yet.

  “I would like that very much, Your Grace.” Your smile widens, less unsure than before, your eyes shining like starlight. The prospect of something new is exciting yet also terrifying at the same time. You should run and hide, fiercely guarding your already fragile heart like a dragon watches over its treasure hoard.

 Elves only love once. And yet.

  You push aside those fears, in favor of welcoming a chance at a new beginning.

  And yet.

o0o0o

Tags: 

@lunatichaotiche​ | @aearonnin​ | @emiliessketches​ | @vibratingbones​ | @moony-artnstuff​ | @ranhanabi777​ | @kenobiguacamole​ | @ceinelee​ | @thranduil​ | @samnblack​ | @abbiesthings​ | @Strangebananabatranch | @bitter--fruit​ | @keijibum​ | @lifestylesleep​ | @lilith15000 | 

[sunflowergirl522]

Runaway: That Was Easy

Pairing: Tiefling!Bucky x Elf!Reader

Summary: Bucky takes a lot of jobs to make a living and this one was no different. Except for the fact that it’s for an elf prince and elves tend to avoid him in general. He accepts and with Sam and Steve they start their journey to find the elf prince’s runaway bride.

Word count: 2443

Warnings: Language

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

“Someone’s looking for you!” Sif announces as she rushes into the dwarves' cottage. The door slams into the table behind it from the force of her opening it. She’s quick to slam it shut behind her and lock it.

“What?” Before she had barged in you had been eating and laughing with Thor, Volstagg, and Brunnhilde. Thor was just finishing up a dwarf drinking song while Volstagg got himself more beer and Brunnhilde was throwing wise cracks at how bad Thor sounded. Sif’s words though were enough to make the four of you stop and turn your heads to her in confusion.

“I just ran into a halfling at La Luna, he said that he and his friends are looking for an elf princess and I haven’t seen any other elf princesses lately.” Sif comes to the table and starts to unpack the food she had brought home with her and putting some off to the side to pack up for you.

“Did he say why?” You stand up not sure how to react to the news that people are looking for you and in the process stop Volstagg from overfilling his mug, taking the pitcher from him.

“No but his friends were talking to the bartender and you know how loose his lips can be with the right price.” 

“They could be right behind you.” Volstagg’s chair topples to the ground in his rush to stand up. Sif just nods at him in response. It doesn’t make sense, why would somebody be looking for you? You were sure that you hadn’t made any enemies in all your years, and the moon elves have no quarrel with anyone, they just live in peace in their kingdom, it was rare for any of them to even leave.

“Milady, you should leave. We can cover for you, tell them you were never here.” Thor looks at you as he starts to help Volstagg pack you up food and supplies.

“They could be dangerous, I can’t just leave you all to lie for me! If anything were to happen to any of you, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself.” The dwarves were some of your closest friends, you had met them years ago while you were out and about and make a point to visit them every time you decide to go on another adventure.

“We’ll be fine Y/n. You must go especially in case they’re dangerous.” Brunnhilde throws more things in the pack as she speaks and you recognize some of it to be the new clothes that she had gone into town to get you yesterday. You didn’t come to them with much, just the clothes on your back and a couple daggers. Your dwarf friends are kind though and along with packing you the clothes and food they get some axes ready to send you off with. Thor comes over and hands you your cloak and the pack while Sif situates the axe holder on your back.

“Tell the others I said goodbye?” Thor just nods at you before leading you to the back door.

“Farewell sweet maiden!” Volstagg yells out to you and you can’t help but smile at it through all the worry.

“Take care of yourself princess, I hope our paths cross again.”

“You as well Thor. I’m sure we’ll all see eachother again soon, I might come back after I take care of whatever is going on.” You kiss his forehead before starting to head out. “Thank you all for everything!” You call out over your shoulder before tossing your hood up and walking into the woods.

 As you start to climb up a tree you think about how you can’t wait to change into your new clothes and get out of your dress. Climbing can be such a hassle when the bottom of a dress snags on the bark and branches. Once high enough you begin to travel from branch to branch back to the front of the cottage. You choose one that’s close enough to see the door but high enough and far enough away that no one should be able to spot you if they were looking in the trees. You weren’t going to leave them to deal with it on their own but you also weren’t going to interfere unless the strangers began to threaten your friends. You sit and lean back onto the tree trunk and wait for the strangers to arrive. And then, after waiting a short while, you hear them before you see them.

“Maybe they’ll have some food we can have.”

“Is that all you think about?” 

“Only when somebody doesn’t let me eat before dragging me out of town and then doesn’t even let me have a snack out of the food pack.” 

You can see the three characters as they approach the cottage from your hiding spot. These must be the people Sif was talking about you think to yourself as you spot the halfling. You sit up straight as they knock on the door, staying alert while Brunnhilde opens it up. The human and the hooded one speak to her for a little bit before the halfling asks her something, causing her to turn around to say something to someone inside. The hooded one looks down at him in what you can only assume is a glare. You bring your hand up to your mouth to help hold in the laugh that threatens to escape as Volstagg brings out a basket of food and hands it to the halfling. The joy you feel from that is short lived though because the hooded one barges into their home. You get into a crouched position ready to jump down to help if needed and watch the other two stay outside politely and you’re pretty sure the human apologizes, though lip reading was never your forte.

You let out a breath as the hooded one comes back out packing something away. They walk straight back into the woods without saying anything to their friends. The halfling is quick to follow him while shoving food in his face and the human stays back for a minute to say something to Brunnhilde and Volstagg before following as well. You follow them from above to see if you can find out anything about them or why they’re looking for you after debating on if you should do that or see if everything is alright with the dwarves. 

“Why are you always so rude? This is why everyone tends to hate you.” The halfling must’ve caused something to snap in his friends because he stops in his tracks before turning towards him real quick.

“Everyone hates me before I even open my mouth to talk! Something you wouldn’t understand, you were lucky enough to be born a joyful trusting little halfling!” His hood comes off as he speaks and your eyes go wide as a handsome blue tiefling is revealed. You catch yourself leaning over the branch to try to get a better look at his face. If he wasn’t so rude to your friends you might’ve even had the urge to run your fingers through his dark shoulder length hair.

“Alright you two, all that matters is that we don’t hate you. Now what did you take from the dwarves?” The human steps between the two men and the tiefling seems to calm down a bit at the distraction of the question. 

“The Princess was definitely there. I found her crown, they tried to claim that she had traded it for supplies but I know enough about princes and princesses that they don’t just trade away their crowns.” He pulls your crown out of his bag and holds it out to his friends on a hooked finger. 

You gasp and your hand flies up to your head to feel for it, even though you can see it. How could you have been so stupid as to leave without it? Of course he knows you were there, crowns are sacred belongings, especially for moon elves. You had crafted it yourself and picked the moonstone that had called out to you. 

“My plan is to loop around the cottage, see if there’s a back exit, then figure out which way she went.” As he leads his friends off of the main path you start to panic a little. You don’t want them to start anything with the clan or bother them anymore than they already have. You might as well interfere now if you plan to later. So without thinking about it anymore you make your next moves. 

A dagger flies through the air, just barely missing Bucky, and lodges itself in a tree behind him. He jumps back and grabs one of his long swords from a sheath on his back readying himself for a fight. Steve takes hold of his bow and reaches back to grab an arrow to ready one to shoot. And Sam, he lets out a yelp and jumps behind Steve’s legs out of, what he’ll call later, shock. A cloaked figure jumps down from the trees, landing in front of them. Their hood is up, hiding them from the sight of the trio. 

“Who are you and why are you looking for the Princess?” Their voice gives away that they’re female but it has a hardness to it that shows that she means business. They point an ace at the trio standing in a threatening stance. 

“Why is that any of your business?” Bucky gets into a semi crouched position and takes a step forward. 

“I asked you first tiefling.” Bucky snarls at the figure just itching for a fight to start. “You answer my questions and I’ll return the favor. It’s how these things work.” Steve steps in front of Bucky to put something between the two of you and holds his hands up in a way to help prevent a fight from happening at all. 

“Let’s all calm down now, there’s no need for anyone to get hurt when we could talk like civilized people.”

“Names, now.” 

“I’m Steve, this here is Bucky, and that’s Sam.” He points over his shoulder to their halfling friend. 

“Why are you looking for the princess, Steve?”

“We were hired to find her. Are you looking for her too?” 

“You could say that.” 

“Uh, Steve, did the prince say anything about hiring anyone else when he came looking for us?” Sam scratches his head in confusion as he asks and takes a step forward. 

“Prince?” And just like that the cold demanding nature of your voice melts away to a more soft concerned one. The question goes unnoticed by Steve and Sam but Bucky hears it. It peaks his curiosity and he tilts his head to the side while squinting and trying to make out the shadow beneath the hood. 

“He didn’t say anything about hiring anyone else but he did seem like he was desperate enough to have.” 

“Woah, hold on. What prince?” The confusion in your voice confuses Steve immensely. Who else would have hired you to find the princess.

“Oh you know, sun elf, doesn’t know jack shit about the princess, pretty damned arrogant bastard if you ask me.” 

You look down at the ground to wrap your head around the situation. Why would he send a fucking search party for you? You left him a note telling him you didn’t want to fucking marry him. Hell you hadn’t even properly met him yet and you knew he was a prick. Maybe sneaking out wasn’t the best way to go about it but his guards would’ve for sure stopped you from leaving. You take a deep breath before letting out an annoyed and angry shriek and throwing the axe at a tree close to you. 

“That self entitled, spoiled, dandelion eating, scorpion prick!” Your voice drops the veil of being threatening and returns to its normal sound as you curse his name. 

Bucky smirks at the fact that someone else has the same opinion of the prince as he does. When he looks over to Steve and Sam he’s ready to tell them he told them so about the prince but their shocked expressions stops him. And as Sam lets out a little ‘woah’ he turns back to you just to find that as you pulled the axe from the tree your hood had fallen off, revealing yourself to them. 

“You’re the princess.” You blow a strand of hair out of your face as you slide the axe back into its spot on your back before looking back at the group of men behind you. 

“Yeah, alright, you got me. I’m the princess, I’d prefer you called me Y/n instead and gave me my crown back. Please and thank you.” As you speak you walk up to Bucky and hold out your hand waiting for your property to be returned to you. 

“He said you were kidnapped.” 

“Well, Steve, as you can see I very much wasn’t. I’m safe and sound so you can go tell him I’m fine and not to worry about me, it’s not his job to anyway. I’ll just need my crown back and we’ll never have to see each other again.”

“That’s not gonna happen princess. We were hired to find you and take you back so that’s what we’re gonna do. You’re only getting this crown back after you get us to the kingdom.” 

His words, as frustrating as they might be, spark an idea in your head. You can take them a long way back so that you can still adventure and visit a friend or two and once you get to the outskirts of the kingdom, you’ll get your crown back and take off again. Maybe you’ll even go home and tell your father about how much of an ass the prince is. You huff to play along with not wanting to go. 

“Fine, lead the way, oh wait he wouldn’t have told you where it was, follow me.” You take your dagger out of the tree and place it back in it’s holster on your thigh keeping your eye on Bucky, trying to think of ways to get your crown back before the kingdom. In doing this you miss Sam all but faint at your action. You then turn and start to lead the way back to the main path, smiling to yourself once your back is facing the trio. Steve follows, carrying a frozen Sam over his shoulder. Bucky hesitates, he can’t help but feel that getting you to agree to go back was too easy.

Bucky Taglist: @puddinsqueen​ @koressecretidentity​ @stevieintheimpala​ @unmagically​ @peachytea01​ @the-chocoholic-writer​ @perksofbeingatrex​ @99-cats​ @rachmmb​ @quokkatrash​ @vanillamaa​ @strawb3rrydr3ss​ @that-sarcastic-writer​ @spideyycents​ @mackycat11​ @crystalsoul2​ @rosiemotion​ @dissectiontime​ @lmf​ @jacelynenursalim​ @aiyanalevina​ @mooncaffeine​ @fanofalltheficsx​ @jewelsrocks99​ @lharrietg​ @yoongisdumplingcheeks​ @clubcesspool @sailormajinmoon​ @girl-obsessed-with-things​ @corvusmorte @sophielovesbarnes​ @collywobbl​ @majo240820​ @alina02​ @toothhurtyam​ 

Marvel Taglist: @its-the-autism-innit-luv​ @pogueslandia​ @obsessedwithbuckybarnes​ @rorysreallyrandom​ @sxtansqueen​ @myalupinblack​ @aya-fay @lieswithoutfairytales​ @kakakatey​ @sugarbutterbailey​ @1-800-ch3rry​ @amelia-song-pond​ @leyannrae​ @ficsnrec​ @slut-for-bucky-barnes​ @neenieweenie​ @officiallyunofficialperson​

Everything Taglist: @florenceyelena​ @ninuffi​ @i-love-superhero​ @kolakube9​ @lexy9716​ @hehehehannahthings​

[entishramblings]

The Cruel Nature of the World [Legolas X Reader]

A.N: So here is another Legolas one shot because I am immensely skilled at procrastinating my fic and ignoring my ikr responsibilities!!! We love that!!!!

Request: anon — hii, if you’re taking requests can I ask for a Legolas X Reader where the reader is kind of touch starved...and really needs some soft gentle touches? Maybe one big with the fellowship she’s sitting next to him and something happens?

Pairing: Legolas X Reader

Summary: (Y/N) joins the fellowship and is focused on her own struggles. Legolas wants to comfort her. The fellowship teases him for being sweet on her.

Word count: 1,830

Warnings: themes of depression?

(gif not mine)

MASTERLIST

The moon had risen high against the blackness of the sky and it’s light pooled upon the weary group, offering solace from the dark. It was then when the fellowship finally decide to rest. Aragorn had picked a spot tucked into the side of a rather large mountain, where the vastness of the stone wall and adjacent forestry provided cover from those who might seek what they carried. The group could be seen from no sides and, quite frankly, the shelter was a comfort to them all.

Sam had built a fire and they eagerly gathered around it to siphon the warmth and eat a hearty meal. (Y/N) leaned her back against the sleek stone that towered above them and stretched her legs towards the flames. Her somber eyes gaze upon the stars while she waited patiently for a plate of food to be passed to her. Here, she let her mind wander.

The cruel nature of the world did not spare (Y/N). Her life was anything but easy. Alone and the run—where she hid from fear, from guilt, from regret, from her past. She was tired. Tired of the darkness that seemed to follow her through all the centuries that she had lived. Tired of all the death and destruction she witnessed. Tired of the pain. Tired of fighting. Tired of killing. There was no escaping it, so why had she even bothered concealing herself from the dreadfulness of it all? But now, it was unavoidable. The time had come to change direction—to sprint towards the ruthlessness of the shadows. That is why (Y/N) joined the journey to destroy the ring. That is why she chose to pledge her life to the quest.

The scent of crispy sausage and beans filled her nostrils as a plate was held before her, drawing her from her thoughts. She moved her gaze from the lights in the sky to the one who offered her a meal.

Legolas stood, towering over her, with a knowing expression upon his face. He lowered the plate as a gesture for her to take it, which she gratefully accepted.

“The boundless freedom of the sky fascinates us all,” he stated as he sat down next to her, placing his own meal in his lap.

The elven woman raised her brows and nodded in the direction of Merry and Pippin, “Well, maybe not all of us.”

Legolas lifted his head to see what she was motioning at. And sure enough, she was correct. The two hobbits were more interested in attempting to stick their sausages up their nostrils then contemplate the wonders of the sky. The Mirkwood Prince couldn’t help but crack a smile. How they came to think up this ridiculous activity with their food, he knew not.

The two elves ate their meals in silence for the blonde ellon didn’t know what to speak of. It was very rare for (Y/N) to carry a conversation, no matter how many times Legolas had tried. She seemed to be in a world far off—always sharpening her countless weapons and living in the crevices of death and despondency. He could see the emptiness in her eyes and the dread in her soul. She viewed the world as a vicious place; one with no comfort and no warmth. Quite frankly, this saddened the blonde Prince. There was more to existence than loneliness. He was sure the others noticed her ideology too, for many times they tried to engage with her but she shoved them off. Nevertheless, Legolas was not yet willing to give up on her; and sitting directly beside her, in quite close proximity, was a start.

.....

Plates were collected and the low singing voices of Boromir and Aragorn hummed through the air. The deep tones resonated within them all and it gently lulled them into a relaxed state.

It was not long before Legolas felt a slight weight upon his shoulder. He slowly shifted his peripheral vision and was surprised to see that is was the head of the worn-down elleth. Really, what else was he expecting? An orc?

Legolas was still as he focused on the sound of her steady heartbeat and gentle breathes. It was different to witness her in this state. Not once on their journey had she sought physical comfort. Quite frankly, Legolas couldn’t remember any time that she had even touched one of them. But now, in her sleep, she seemed so tranquil and welcoming of his warmth; and he was glad to give it to her. The corner of the Prince’s mouth tugged upward. He was rather pleased that she chose to use him as a pillow. He would be lying if he said it didn’t feed into his pride. He had wished thousands of time that he could pull her into his embrace and take away her suffering. Furthermore, Legolas had desired this closeness for a long time. He too craved consolation from the horrors of the quest.

The Prince’s brows furrowed slightly when a thought crossed his mind. The position she was in couldn’t be comfortable. He shifted and ever so carefully lowered her head into his lap. Legolas was shocked that she didn’t wake and push a blade again this throat.

In her unconscious state, a barely audible whimper escaped her lips and her fist clenched onto the fabric of his trousers. Legolas lips parted; the sound was so heartbreaking. He wondered if her dreams were also haunted. Hesitantly, the elf rested his hand on her head. He began to run his fingers through her smooth locks in hopes to provide some relief. As Legolas did this, he examined her appearance. Without the ever present angry scowl on her face, she looked peaceful—well as peaceful as one could get during these dark times. The curve of her jaw molded her structured features nicely. Her eyelids would fluttered occasionally, like a bird about to take flight; and her plump pink lips were were parted, like raspberries plucked to early. She really was beautiful, as all elves were.

Suddenly, the raking sound of Aragorn sharpening his sword with a metal file stopped. Heat rose up to Legolas’s cheeks and ears as he felt eyes boring into him. Ever so slowly the elf lifted his head. The Ranger’s body was frozen and his eyes were glued to the pair of elves with a surprised accusatory look. This, of course, summoned the attention of the rest of the company.

Boromir was the first to speak with amusement upon his tone, “So the wolf doesn’t bite...”

A teasing smiled plastered across Aragorn’s face. Legolas inwardly groaned; he surely was to hear an earful from his friend latter.

The uncrowned Ranger replied to the Gondorian, “Well, she doesn’t bite elf boy over there.”

A loud gleeful cackle erupted from Gimli. How it didn’t wake (Y/N) and the hobbits was a mystery.

Legolas rolled his eyes in attempt to hide the embarrassment, but he was sure the group could see right through him.

Gandalf, who was smoking his pipe, chided the men, “Oh, let the elflings seek comfort from each other for these are dark times we live in.”

Legolas sent a grateful smile in the old wizard’s direction, but regretted it when a glimmer entered Gandalf’s gaze and he continued speaking, “Maybe we will have some little ones in the near future to bring joy to us all?”

The Mirkwood Prince was positive his face was as red as a midsummer’s cherry at this point.

This could not get any worse.

.....

As the journey went on Legolas’s friends did not stop the taunting jests. Whenever the two elves arms brushed together or sat beside each other the men sent teasing looks their way. Of course, (Y/N) didn’t even notice. Aragorn went as far as constantly forcing them to complete daily tasks together such as hunting and scouting. It was embarrassing really. Even the hobbits caught on!!

It wasn’t until Pippin opened his mouth that the groups plans were revealed to (Y/N). The small hobbit and elven woman were gathering fire wood when Pippin spoke, “So (Y/N), do you like Legolas?”

The woman tilted her head, “What prompts you to ask such a question?”

The gleeful child-like being laughed, “Well, yesterday when your back was turned Strider was making kissy faces at you and Legolas!”

“HE DID WHAT?!” She hollered.

Pippin, surprised at her outburst dropped the sticks he was holding, “As...as I just said he—“

She shook her head, “Hush, hush. I heard you the first time.”

(Y/N) stormed off towards the camp and the hobbit quickly scurried behind her—struggling to pick up the assortment of logs.

All heads turned as she, visibly pissed, marched right up to Aragorn. She balled her hand into a fist and punched him right in the jaw. “THAT IS FOR BEING AN ASSHOLE!” She clocked him again, “AND THAT IS FOR ENJOYING IT!”

Aragorn had a confused and shocked expression upon his face as he wiped blood from his lip.

The sound of an amused chuckled from Boromir drew her attention. She stormed up to him and kicked him hard in the shin, “AND THAT IS FOR GOING ALONG WITH IT!”

(Y/N) then turned her head towards Legolas, “And you—“

She made her was towards the elf with long strides and jabbed her finger in his face, “How dare you not tell me of this!!!”

The Prince’s eyes were wide with shock, “I...I—“

She interrupted him, “Why?! Why didn’t you tell me?!”

He moved his lips to speak but no words left his mouth.

She tilted her head, “Unless.....unless it’s because you are embarrassed....” Her lips parted and the looming question tumbled from her mouth. “You...you fancy me?”

All eyes were on them at this point. Legolas swallowed dryly and every so slightly nodded his head.

Without warning, (Y/N) grasped both sides of his face and yanked his head towards her. She smashed her lips against his and he froze in shock. Time stood still for a moment, but the realization of what was happening finally hit him. Legolas snaked his arms around her waist and pulled her form against his. (Y/N) felt the rush of helpless thirst flood her as their mouths danced against each other. It had been so long since she touch another with care, but never had she experienced this kind of intimacy. She tangled her hands in his soft blonde locks while gladly inviting his warmth to infect her being and bring solace to the turmoil within her soul. She would never admit it, but she had needed this. She had craved this.

If it wasn’t for the woof whistles and hoots from the rest of the fellowship they probably would have continued. However, the two reluctantly pulled apart with flushed cheeks and swollen lips. They did not break eye contact; instead, they took comfort in each other’s tight hold. Maybe, just maybe, the cruel nature of the world wasn’t so menacing.

[beautifulterriblequeen]

B2:S - Chapter 3

Much of this series will be about the differences and additions in the novel version, and how they contribute to my understanding of story canon. But there will be character appreciation, the odd theory and headcanon, and suchlike as well.

Here be Lujanne, Callum, Rayla, Ezran, Bait, and Soren goodness!

Spoilers for Book Two: Sky below.

Lujanne having excellent fitness for all her walking around the Moon Nexus, and she's so energetic that Callum has trouble keeping up with her! She seems like those active grandmas who almost never stop moving, who have a lifelong supply of endless stamina. It makes me wonder if Lujanne will need that level of fitness for some upcoming conflict.

Callum feeling really hungry over not eating grubs and then still deciding he'd rather be hungry. It makes me wonder all over again how Lujanne got to the point where she eats grubs, considering that other Moonshadow elves we know of back in the Silvergrove don't. I still love my hc that the giant leech ate all of Lujanne's moonberry bushes and she's taking her revenge. Whatever's going on there, Callum is definitely not at that point yet.

When Lujanne asks Callum how he knows she's real, he thinks to himself that he'd put up with just about anything from someone who was going to teach him magic. That's a great parallel and foreshadowing for Viren's student/master relationship with Aaravos! And it's telling that neither student gets exactly what they hoped to get. Lujanne doesn't actively teach Callum any spells, because she believes he can't learn Moon magic at all. Aaravos does offer Viren power, but it takes him to some very dark places - literally and figuratively - and the cost is terribly high.

Callum sees a moon shape among the ruins, and Lujanne explains that the Moonhenge layout is an intricate rune that uses the structures themselves as part of its symbols and power. That's apparently a thing even with ordinary Moonshadow villages like Hollow Wood in the east, which is the coolest idea I've seen in a while: city planning as magic runes!

Yes, that's the same shape as the pendants Ethari made for himself and Runaan. Protection? Home? Feelsiness? A sense of safety and belongnig for all cycles and seasons?

Wonder what this Moonhenge rune stands for, then, and how much of this landscape is included in that rune. I bet it's more than we think!

But it makes sense now, how toppling the stone pillars would disable the spell the druids would cast to connect with the Moon Nexus lake. Breaking the infrastructure of the Moonhenge breaks the rune.

There's a physical sensation involved with the visuals that Historia Viventem brings up! When that one ghostly druid walked through Callum, he felt icy cold. Like in ghost stories. I really wonder about what exactly Historia Viventem is doing when it activates. It shows truth, "what really happened here?", so it must have some kind of time-related element, maybe tied to how the moon always repeats the same cycles or something. But it also seems to draw on the spirits of any living people involved in the flashback, because Callum could physically feel that wispy shape passing through him. So very interesting!

Orrr... is that all wrong, and there's something else at work with this spell than time? Maybe the world beyond life and death can act as an imprint of the things that have happened in the living world, and the spell that Lujanne (and later Callum) casts taps into that place, with perfect recall. I'm looking really hard at the sentence that says "dozens of translucent elf ghosts" and "phantom Moonhenge" and "lost in their own world" here.

Lujanne says more here than in the show about the world beyond life and death, being her mysterious Moonshadow-mage self. She says that "beyond" and "between" might both apply to where this other plane of existence is, and she doesn't much care which. With all the relativity swirling around this place, and not much in the way of empiricism, it's sounding like perhaps multiple conflicting ideas might actually coexist in such a place, allowing more ideas to fit there than we might normally believe is possible. Which is a fascinating bit of worldbuilding. Basically, every headcanon anyone has ever had about the Moon Nexus could all be true at the same time, for all we know.

Oh oh oh, Callum coming in soft with a secret wish! He takes one look at the Moonhenge and immediately thinks of finding a way to see his mom again! Poor boy, my heart! I'd say that could be another interesting parallel with Viren, but then, who wouldn't hold that sentiment?

Oh my, is this another breath of life into Ye Olde Ley Lines headcanon? Lujanne mentioning the Nexuses again, so soon after talking about the runic design of the entire Moonhenge, makes me wonder if the six nexuses are in fact giant runes. On Earth, the places where ley lines cross are called nexuses, and there are those who believe those points got marked with ancient structures, like Stonehenge and many many others. If Xadia were crossed with magical lines which naturally formed nexus points where they met, and if powerful magical runes were built across those entire areas, well. That would be cool beans, fams. Can I smack a map of Xadia and release a spell like Luz Noceda does? Because ngl that is my first instinct here.

Lujanne has got to be missing some grandkids to spoil, right? The way she's always whipping out cake and ice cream for Callum, and she's so grandma-ish about it. Headcanon about her being Runaan's mom aside, she is canonically lonely and she's very sweet to Allen and Ellis and I think she's missing whatever family she once had in the past. She may never get to have that family back, so she's finding a new one among the humans who live nearby, and I think that's sweet. Found family isn't just for the young.

But Ellis is straight up gonna be her fave, I bet, because she didn't turn up her nose at Lujanne's illusion food!

Ezran and Bait have a lot more to their relationship than was visible in the show, and I'm so excited by it! Ez can tell by looking at Bait's colors that he's not truly jealous of Zym, even if he's really grumpy about the dragonling taking up his favorite human's time.

And Ez thinking a lot about his dad and the things he's taught him. They're soft leadership material, and I love that so much! "Pick your battles" and the importance of encouragement. Ahh, my heart. Ezran, you're going to be such a good king.

But wait a second: both times that Bait gets extra grumpy in Zym's first training session, Ezran has just mentioned something about flying. Guys, I think Bait wishes he could fly, really badly. And that's his biggest problem with Zym, and with Ezran teaching Zym to fly, instead of Bait who doesn't have wings so. Bait is so old that his secrets have secrets, and I'm really curious how flying fits into them now!

Rayla, Dramatic Assassin: "I need to patrol for dark forces." That's what Lujanne called the source of the purple wisps that found them. I wonder if that's an official term all Moonshadows know, or if Rayla is just taking her cue from a veteran Moon mage. And I wonder how far Rayla is falling into the apparent pattern of "one mage, one assassin", since she does spend a lot of her time patrolling without being asked.

When Callum tells Lujanne that he was bad at prince stuff, and she asks if he didn't give up and got good at those things anyway, it's an opportunity for Callum to embrace subverting his parents' expectations in favor of seeking his own path, which is a primary theme of the show. But Lujanne is a couple generations older than Callum, at the very least, and I have to wonder what her upbringing was like. Is her version of success the one she took? Was she bad at magic once too, but she persisted? She is very soft and doesn't want to kill anyone.

Maybe Lujanne had dreams of doing something else with her life, but she felt she had to pursue the destiny that others handed to her, so she studied magic as hard as she could, and she did get good at it, but using it to defend Xadia from humans is not what she wanted to do with her life. Whether there's a parallel between her and Ethari on that point, there's one between Callum and Ethari, I think. How much of your life are you willing to let others direct for you?

LISTEN I WAS DYING AT THE EAR BREAD SCENE OKAY

This is my new favorite Soren and Claudia moment ever. Soren loves him his bread, okay. Even as earplugs for Claudia's sleep ocarina tune. The fact that it's "super effective" makes me think of a Pokemon defense. The fact that he learned it at camp, where he also learned about Moonshadow Madness, is hilarious. Later on, Corvus doesn't know Soren by name, but I still love the idea of Corvus being a kind of Strider-esque camp instructor, filling the ears of his young charges with all kinds of useful tactics like ear bread for magic spell songs (which actually seemed to work as intended), and warnings about the enemy elves' blood-themed tactics (which may or may not come back around in BH)

I thought they were gonna go in a kind of deep direction when Soren still wanted his ear bread back, but then he just. Eats them. Just noms them. I love this kid. Give Soren all the bread!

[honourablejester]

An origin story for a Fathomless Warlock

And/or a potential encounter with a society (not quite a cult) of kraken priests, depending. With the lighthouse keeper background I came up with, because I can come up with pretty much endless stories about lighthouses and the weirdos who live in them.

The Kraken Brides of Ketan Point Lighthouse

Ketan Point Lighthouse is an ancient tower of green stone on a desolate, battered stretch of coastline. A narrow, stony road winds through the woods and up the cliffs from the nearest village, some fifteen miles inland. Ketan Point is only ever resupplied by land. Only the bravest and most foolhardy venture out onto the waters beyond the Point. Fishing boats and small vessels are rarely seen, and even the mightier shipping of the great trade routes give Ketan Point a wide, wide berth.

The reason for this lies three miles offshore beyond the Point, where the turbulent currents of Ketan Point become the ravenous, swirling waters of the Karybdis Maelstrom, a vast, monstrous whirlpool that seizes anything that sails into it and plunges it down into black, abyssal depths.

On its own, the maelstrom would be more than enough to deter shipping, but it isn’t alone. Something lives in its black, crushing depths, an ancient, titanic deterrent all its own.

Karybdis himself, for whom the maelstrom is named. The Kraken of Ketan Point.

And it was for Karybdis that a lighthouse was built over a stretch of water all but empty of ships. The light warns no one away. Other, smaller lighthouses further up the coast perform that role, warning ships that they need to head further out to sea well before the maelstrom or the kraken become a potential danger. Ketan Point, a bare few miles away, was built for a different purpose.

The green stone tower, with its great beacon at its summit, houses the Kraken’s Bride.

Karybdis is beyond ancient, a fearsome creature of legend. Once upon a time, it’s said, generations of elves ago, he was a fiercer, tempestuous, much more wrathful force. Not content with the maelstrom, he roamed for leagues upon leagues, the length and breadth of the coast, shattering ships to flinders, and visiting vengeance upon the great sea ports for even the slightest of insults. The stories of him were many. Some said he had been wounded once, in some titanic battle of gods, and that the wound had driven him mad, made him little but wrath given flesh. Others said simply that he was a raw force of evil, lashing out at all around him.

But there was more to the great kraken than that. Mad he may have been, but not stupid, nor simple either. No one knows the reason for the bargain he one day proposed, out of the blue. Whether it was survival instinct, to stave off war before some god or state found a champion fit to wound him again, or … something else. Some desire of his own, more important than destruction. Loneliness, perhaps. Maybe, at the base of it, just simple loneliness.

Whatever it was, the kraken came one day to each of the great ports that he had threatened and vented his wrath upon, and reached out his thunderous thoughts in the language of gods to all who would listen and attempt to understand. A bargain, he offered. A stay of his hand. Well, tentacle. A cease of his violence against their ports and their ships, if they would give into to his keeping something of their own in return. A companion, to keep him company in his thoughts. A sacrifice, who would spend their lives with him.

A lighthouse was built, a beacon tower to lift them towards his presence, a green bastion on the cliffs above his maelstrom. So began the Kraken Brides of Ketan Point.

It is a softer duty now, at least somewhat. Time and companionship have … if not quite softened, at least cooled the great kraken over time. He does not demand a life in its entirety now. Or, perhaps, he merely appreciates a little diversity in his companions. A little worldliness, a little depth of experience and thought. Male or female, it doesn’t matter to him, nor race nor creed. Only strength of mind, and the ability to hold his interest. He asks not a lifetime, so that they might have something outside of himself to share with him, when the time comes. To be a Kraken Bride, the Lighthouse Keeper of Ketan Point, is perhaps no longer such an onerous and monstrous position.

Ten years. Karybdis asks ten years of any prospective Keeper. To give ten years of their life to his company, to share his thoughts as he lies dreaming beneath the maelstrom, to speak with him, play him music, tell him stories. Debate with him, engage with him. Remind him of the value of the world. Meet him, in the flesh, and stand fearless or at least unbowed before his form when he rises above the lighthouse tower every new moon, in the light of the beacon beam, to greet his Keepers in person.

Ten years, as his companion. And then ten more, to seek out a replacement for him.

The Keepers are a lineage, now, chosen by alternating predecessors. While one Keeper serves their time, their predecessor will seek out and choose their successor. It takes a certain sort of personality to hold up to Karybdis. Someone curious, practical. Not to prone to fear where none is warranted. Robust in personality, and willing to argue with monsters. Someone with stories to tell. The Keepers know what to look for, and trust no one else to choose wisely enough. Too many in the world beyond the tower have forgotten what Karybdis once was, and might take their task too lightly.

While they walk the world, seeking out successors on his behalf, they carry his power within them. Karybdis looks after his Brides, for their twenty years, and sometimes even after. There are some who have been Brides for him several times, Keepers of long-lived races who have returned to him for twenty years in every hundred, or two hundred, when they have something new to share with him. He reaches out his power to all of them.

And they reach out to each other, too. Kraken Brides of Karybdis rarely forget where they have come from. Who chose them, and who they chose, and who they went to for aid while seeking them. One Keeper of Ketan Point will always know another, and almost always aid them.

It takes a certain sort of personality, after all, to hold up to a kraken for years on end, in the cause of keeping a world safe from his wrath, and he himself safe from his emptiness.

Because it must not be forgotten. Time and companionship may have softened and cooled him, but Karybdis is still a kraken. An ancient, wounded, maddened remnant of all the long-ago wars of gods. His wrath may be deterred, staved off by his bargain, but it is not gone. Woe betide any who would break their bargain with him, and any who would poison or sabotage the mission of his Keepers. Should a Bride betray him, abandon their ten years before they are up, refuse to choose a successor, or choose a successor only to poison or wound him, then all others who survive must have no choice but to hunt them down, and stand willing to replace them the moment they know the betrayal. The moment Karybdis believes that his bargain is no longer being upheld is the moment he returns to the wrathful monstrosity he once was, and all who live upon his coastline reap the reward of it. His Brides, the Keepers of Ketan Point, must have this ever and always in their minds.

On their shoulders rests the safety of every city that touches the sea.

(Notes: Yes, Karybdis is a reference to Charybdis of ‘between Scylla and Charybdis’ fame, and ‘Ketan’ Point is a reference to Cetus. Because I watched Clash of the Titans young, and yes I know krakens aren’t Greek, but in a D&D context they definitely work with the reference. Also, I really like Fathomless Warlocks. And kraken cults. And lighthouses. So, you know? Have a broadly good-aligned society-slash-cult of fathomless warlocks with a ancient, lonely, extraordinarily cranky kraken patron?)