#there is even something here for a dwarf without stone-sense!

[vigilskept]

i know it would've been difficult for them to tackle, but it absolutely kills me thinking about the missed opportunities of getting into religious angle of everything that's going on in veilguard.

because it's insane, right? that there are gods in this game. and the game will tell you over and over that they aren't gods, that they're Just Mages, but that's actually not precisely true. they're something very different from what a tevinter magister is, at least, and not only on a power-scale.

powerful spirits are gods in this setting. that was the religion ascribed to by most of humanity, before andraste. the avvar and chasind still ascribe to that belief.

a lot has been said already about how the game fails to engage with belief for dalish characters, and i agree. i think the game also really fails its andrastian characters here though because this is actually huge.

it's not just whether the golden/black city is/was the seat of the maker. it's the very meaning of what god is that's at stake here.

the maker has abandoned humanity. only through the pleas of his prophet andraste is he willing to consider the idea of offering a second chance to his creation. he will not respond to your prayers, and he will not give you answers. his will is inscrutable, to be interpreted only through the words of his prophet which have been changed over the centuries.

and if you are a mage, you are taught that this maker has cursed you. your very being is a curse.

and then you meet elgar'nan. and then you meet ghilan'nain.

they are not your maker. not really. not even if you're an elf.

but these gods are knowable. they will speak to you, personally. they may even do so with kindness. they will tell you what you could do to please them, and even offer you something in return.

and what they ask is terrible. maybe even unfathomable. but in a world where exalted marches have been called in the name of the maker and entire circles annulled, isn't that enough to give you a little pause?

[fanfoolishness]

Ooh 5 letters between two of your OC’s companions about them?

Thank you for this codex ask! I have sat on it for weeks but today is the day. Gotta distract myself from them fires amirite? :-D These are for Asla Mercar.

---

Harding: Hope you're doing okay after the whole 'found an angry rock version of yourself' thing. You seem happier. That's good. But if you're not you know where to find me if you wanna smash shit. I'd be pissed about all that stuff if I was a dwarf. Also congrats on you and Rook. She keeps walking around looking all giddy. It's cute. Taash

--

Dear Taash, Who told you about me and Rook??? Also, thank you. It was overwhelming to feel all of that pain and rage from the Titans, but I think I'm coming to terms with it. I still feel connected to everything, but I feel so much lighter. Does that make sense? Like there's a way forward now, where I can remember the past without being bowed down by it. Seriously though, did Emmrich say something? Harding

--

Harding: It wasn't Emmrich. Remember my sense of smell? Comes in handy for stuff like this. And I won't tell anyone if you don't want. I get it. Sometimes you wanna keep stuff just for yourself for a while. You two are good together. I can see she really cares about you. When we were checking out the Warden fortress with Davrin in Rivain she kept talking about you. "Lace would think this is so neat. Look at all this old stonework!" "I wonder if Lace's magic would work here." "I could really go for a ham and jam slam right now." She smiles way more when she talks about you. Glad you're feeling better. The stone magic is badass. We should see if we can power it up with dragonfire or something. Better ask Emmrich about that too. Taash

--

Dear Taash, Okay fine, yes, Rook and I are seeing each other. I have to be careful because my magic keeps almost giving her lyrium poisoning when we -- um -- try to be... affectionate? Ugh, that sounds bad. But when I get excited, or emotional, it just sort of comes out! Last time she was dizzy for an hour. That's the only reason I asked Emmrich about it. I mean, I certainly know how to do things under normal circumstances. She said all that about me? Stop it, you're making me blush. She's just the best, isn't she? I know everything is so hard right now, and the world keeps trying to end, and she's carrying all of that on her shoulders, but I'm just so happy right now. After losing Varric, and everything I've learned about the Titans... I can look into her eyes (did you know they're two different colors? Green and hazel? They're so pretty!) and just be Lace. And it helps. She helps. I asked Emmrich about dragonfire and stone magic. He said neither's really his area of expertise, but based on what he's observed, he recommended finding somewhere with a LOT of open space just in case everything explodes. Let's try it! Maybe the arena at the Hall of Valor? Harding

--

Harding: You're on. I'll have Isabela set up a match. Drinks at the Hilt after? You can invite Rook to join us too. I bet she'll cheer you on. Sorry stuff's been hard. But I'm glad it's getting better even if the world's messed up. Now let's go blow something up. Taash

[voxofthevoid]

Demon/Hunter Horror Wednesday #19—and the last one 🫡

It's not that I'll finish this before the next Wednesday (still have 4 chapters to write), but I'm out of bits I can post without majorly spoiling the ending. All three of the remaining chapters comprise the climax, and then it's just an epilogue.

So, here we go, waving this baby goodbye with a sukuita+goyuu scene—there's no sex, but it sure is sexual.

“What a pest,” Satoru mutters.

Something laughs.

Satoru looks, the full might of the Six Eyes brought to bear to scan every inch of these tainted lands all at once. It doesn’t take long. It doesn’t even take a millisecond.

Yuuji’s standing in front of the worn stone steps leading to the small honden. His back is to Satoru, and his body language is all loose-limbed ease. There’s no tension in the line of his shoulders, and his arms are lax at his sides, hands lying open with the fingers slightly curled. The very picture of relaxation—and utterly unnatural.

He’s only a few feet away, but that distance gapes like a chasm.

“Yuuji?” Satoru calls warily.

Yuuji doesn’t react.

The shadows laugh again—loud, ringing cackles that echo through the forest. If this were a movie, there’d be a shot of birds fleeing the trees. The reality is that there are no birds in the vicinity. There are no animals. Every living thing has already fled.

Satoru takes a step toward Yuuji.

And the night reaches out, wrapping possessive tendrils around Yuuji’s body.

Yuuji turns around. His features are slack, his eyes unseeing. He looks right at Satoru—and right through him.

The shadows keep writhing around him, on him, and before even Satoru can make sense of what he’s seeing, there’s a man behind Yuuji. A man made entirely out of shadows. That doesn’t do much to hide his sheer size. He’s a behemoth figure, easily seven feet tall and with a bulky torso that swells out from either side of Yuuji.

Yuuji’s not a small guy. Even Satoru’s bulk doesn’t make him seem small, only smaller. But this hulking shadow utterly dwarfs Yuuji.

“Well, fuck,” Satoru says succinctly. “You’re full of nasty tricks, Father.”

“Tricks.” It’s a deep, powerful voice. Satoru never spared a thought for what the demon would sound like, but if he had, he wouldn’t have imagined this. It might have been pleasant to listen to if not for the malicious mirth dripping from that one single word. “Something like you would call it that.”

“Oh?” Satoru smiles, baring all his teeth. The shadow has no eyes, only a void carved from the world in the vague shape of a head, but he’s sure the demon can see him crystal clear. “What would you call it then?”

“Power,” comes the simple, predictable answer. “True power—not the pale perversions your ilk makes of it.”

“Tell me how you really feel,” Satoru drawls, watching Yuuji without taking his eyes off the demon. Their position makes it easy, which is no blessing. All four of the demon’s shadowy arms are wrapped around Yuuji in a mockery of an embrace. Satoru thinks uncharitably of spiders and crabs—an overabundance of limbs wrapped around pretty trinkets they have no right to claim.

Yuuji looks so small like this. With his face blank and eyes glassy, he looks like a doll. It’s not a sight Satoru’s unused to, but it’s worse with the shadow fondling him.

The only good news is that the voice isn’t coming from Yuuji’s throat. His lips are slightly parted but still and silent. If the demon had turned him into a vessel, things would have become…dire.

It does leave Satoru to grapple with a demon who can project his shape and his voice halfway across town. Satoru would have liked the shadows to remain mere channels of the demon’s power and will.

No, that’s not strictly true. In another situation, he’d have enjoyed the challenge. It’s always interesting when a demon’s strong enough to really play with.

But Yuuji’s here.

“I don’t suppose you’d let him go if I ask real nice,” Satoru murmurs, taking another step forward—and freezing when the shadowy hands on Yuuji shift with intent.

“That depends,” the demon says. The depthless shadows where his mouth would be splits around a deeper slash of darkness. A grin, shadows writhing inside shadows. “Do you know how to beg like the dog you are?”

“Nope.”

“Pity.” It’s practically a croon. The tone does nothing to hide the rage. A dark hand drifts to Yuuji’s face, splaying all over it. “This brat doesn’t either. He may have learned, eventually. But you mutts are a lose cause.”

“You’ll really hurt my feelings, Father.” Satoru doesn’t like that hand on Yuuji’s face. It doesn’t seem like a cruel grip; Yuuji’s flesh has barely dented under the pressure. But that large hand eats up his face, and Satoru can tell precisely how little it’d take for it to snap his neck. “Change of plans—let him go, and I won’t hurt you.”

“Liar,” the demon counters, a sneer audible in his voice.

“Much,” Satoru amends. “I’m sure you agree that you deserve a little hurt.”

“So says your noble crusade.” Every word drips disdain, and the shadows seems to echo it, their edges rippling in a way that eats into the night around it. Then the demon cocks his head, the shadows stilling. “Or perhaps your cause is far less noble.”

Satoru smiles; his spiritual energy storms under his skin. “That’s a grave accusation to level at a hunter.”

The hand on Yuuji’s face slides down, curling around his throat. The other three tear off Yuuji’s clothes in one explosive movement.

Satoru snarls, jolting forward—

“Stay.”

The demon’s command doesn’t stop Satoru, but the claws digging into Yuuji’s throat do.

Moonlight streams in through the canopy, casting Yuuji’s bare skin in silvery blue. The shadows staining it stand out in stark definition. Each one is a danger, digging greedily into unprotected flesh. The one on the throat is the worst, but there’s another tucked against the crease of Yuuji’s left thigh, with easy each of the femoral artery. Another’s splayed over Yuuji’s stomach, fingers bent slightly to dig into the underbelly. The fourth is cupping Yuuji’s soft cock.

“Is this your cause,” the demon purrs, “Gojou Satoru?”

There’s the distant realization that the demon knowing his name is not a good sign, but Satoru’s considerable mental faculties find themselves preoccupied with the movement of those shadowy hands on Yuuji’s naked body.

They roam his stomach and thighs, pitch-black fingers on silver-cast skin. There’s palpable hunger in every rough, groping touch, greedy from the spread of the palm to the curve of the fingers, and their sheer size seems to swallow Yuuji, a devouring made far too easy by the excess of arms.

It’s lazy, sensual, possessive.

Satoru feels his own lips peel back from his teeth, and the solid mass behind Yuuji presses closer as if in response, shadows rippling around and above him as if preparing to consume him whole.

“Careful, Father,” Satoru says with a mouthful of teeth, “you’re racking up quite a debt. I’ll come collecting.”

That same booming laughter sounds again; Yuuji’s body trembles with it, but he’s still a blank-faced doll—probably for the best.

The demon slides two hands down Yuuji’s thighs, curving around their inside like he intends to spread them. He still has two to spare, and one never left its soft curl around Yuuji’s throat, but now it does, creeping up to the underside of his jaw, and its twin cuts a diagonal path from the jut of Yuuji’s hipbone to the swell of his pectoral, denting the flesh it claims.

Satoru’s fists curl tight around phantom heat.

The demon turns Yuuji’s head by the hand on his jaw—and kisses him.

Satoru bolts forward.

Dark claws sink into Yuuji’s chest.

Satoru comes to a shuddering stop barely a foot away from Yuuji, grabbing the hand sunk into his chest. His fingers slice through empty air; the shadows are still there, intangible where Satoru’s hand has sunk into them but far too solid where they’re buried in Yuuji’s flesh.

It’s not a wound. There are no gouges, no blood. But what’s there is worse. The Six Eyes can see the corruptive spiritual energy curled around Yuuji’s heart in the shape of a clawed hand.

“Damn it,” Satoru growls. He flattens his palm against Yuuji’s chest, where the demon’s hand has dug deep, and he feels only warm skin—and a strong, beating heart. “Let him go.”

“If you insist.”

Every one of Satoru’s instincts blare a warning—too little, too late.

The demon squeezes Yuuji’s heart.

And for the first time since the demon manifested, Yuuji makes a noise, all quiet animal hurt. Blood trickles out the sides of his mouth like black bile, and the shadowy mass making up the demon’s head shifts as if it’s deepening the kiss.

The scarlet stains on Yuuji’s soul spread and surge.

If Satoru uses Limitless, Yuuji will be the one torn apart.

But—

His spiritual energy billows out of him in one great burst, condensed to its purest essence—the same Satoru uses when he heals himself.

The shadows dissipate, shuddering into thin wisps and then nothing at all. The mass sealed to Yuuji’s mouth is the last to go, thin curls of it lingering over his open mouth before sliding boldly in, and there’s nothing unpredictable about the way the taint inside Yuuji pulses in answer. It’s been threaded through Yuuji’s spiritual imprint since the day Satoru met him, but now it forms the outline of an entire person—a perfect replica of Yuuji, only writhing red where it’s trapped inside his skin.

Yuuji collapses into Satoru’s arms.

“Enjoy what you have wrought,” says the last dying shadow, “Gojou Satoru.”

[animatorweirdo]

When the Dragons Fly (Book 3)

You have found shelter for the coming snowstorm, but now one of the younglings is missing. Ramuel ends up in a difficult situation but finds comfort in his strange new friend.

Chapter 5

Warnings: some mistrust, a dragon being missing, frustration, slight angst, mentions of abandonment, fear among people, mentions of getting hurt, some sad thoughts, and comfort.

------------------------------------------------

The wind has picked its pace. Snow blew through the fortress, pushing and swirling around the grey stones. Luckily, the ruins provided enough cover from the wind, so your people were able to build tents and fires to prepare for the night. You felt glad to make this decision since it would have been too dangerous to cross the mountains in a snowstorm. You were also grateful that Torim was docile enough to share the place for the night. Your dwarven friend kept his space from you and your dragons, but your companions still felt weary toward him. 

“Do you really think we can trust the dwarf? He did threaten to shoot you,” Baelen started as you, him and Deanna went over the travel plan. 

“His reaction was normal. Be glad that we managed to settle this peacefully. Besides, you and the others shared the same reaction when you found out about our dragons,” you explained while holding the map on the table. 

“The least we can do is respect his decisions and have our dragons at a safe distance,” you stated. 

“I know, it's just… I still feel a bit weary of him. Like why is he here instead with his kin?” Baelen questioned as he glanced toward the dwarf. 

“My guess is that he was part of the battle in the north. However, he was then knocked down and woke up later to find everyone gone. Injured and separated, he is most likely trying to flee and find his way back home,” you concluded. 

“That… makes sense. I don’t suppose our good friend here would like to share how he ended up separated from his kin,” Baelen said as you all glanced toward the dwarf. 

Torim was observing everyone from the higher floors. He had a sharp glare when he stared at the dragon younglings, who were playing and eating in the front yard. 

“I think you should keep the young dragons away from him unless he snaps and tries to kill them,” Baelen advised. “Anyway. I’m going to set the men on the lookout. Better prepare now than later,” he said as he left you and Deanna. 

Aelon then ran up to you with a concerned expression. 

“(Name). Smoke is missing,” Aelon started with a worried tone. 

“What do you mean he’s missing?” you questioned with a frown. 

“I mean he’s missing. I can’t find him anywhere,” Aelon explained. “I think he got lost or something,” he added. 

You silently cursed as you already knew why the young dragon was gone. 

“Or he went back,” you uttered and Aelon looked at you confused. 

“I think he decided to be stubborn and go after Ramuel. Smoke still doesn’t know that he’s not Samuel,” you explained. 

“What should we do?” Aelon asked. 

“There’s nothing much we can do. You can try looking for him, but I’m afraid the wind will become too harsh for you and Falconer to fly,”  you stated, crossing your arms. 

“Do we have to leave him behind?” Aelon asked. His voice filled with sorrow and reluctance to do such a thing. 

“We can’t really go back either. All we can do now is hope he will find his way back to us in time, or that he gets too scared trying to follow Ramuel,” you replied.  

“Oh no…” Aelon looked down with sadness. 

“I’m sorry, Aelon. Trust me, I would not leave without Smoke if things weren’t this serious,” You laid your hand on his shoulder with a comforting look. “I can try to put Baleria to look for him. She can take care of herself and fend off enemies, but even she will not go too far from me,” you explained. 

“Okay…” Aelon uttered. 

“Go check on Aegar and Viserya. Make sure they’re at least okay,” you said and your little brother walked away. 

You released a heavy sigh and rubbed your brows at the situation. Why did it have to come to this? 

“It seems this young dragon really loved this boy, Samuel,” Deanna remarked. 

“The two were close when he was still alive. Now Smoke thinks his twin brother is Samuel,” you sighed, walking back and forth. 

“Why can’t things just go according to plan at least once?” you mumbled as you decided to check on the scouts and other things in the fortress. 

Concealed beneath the trees of the forest, the second host quietly observed the orcs who had established their camp around the former elven fortress of Himring. The wind howled down from the mountains, and the land was gradually blanketed in white as snow began to fall.

“Damn it there’s so many of them. I think (Name) was right. Going through here is too big of a risk,” one of the chiefs uttered. “If we turn around now maybe we could catch up with them on the mountain road,” 

“Don’t be a fool. There is a snowstorm coming, and we can’t waste time spending another night in the town,” Horren said. “We have to get through today. We only need the right timing and a spot to get past them without notice,” he observed the orcs. 

The people in the host were standing anxiously, hidden by the trees and ready to move once the Chiefs came to a decision. 

Ramuel was sitting on a rock, holding his knees and watching as the people walked around anxiously. His mind felt heavy. He did not dare to talk back to his mother, but he already missed his friends and the safety their presence provided. 

A quiet groan reached his ears. Ramuel jolted and turned around toward the forest. His eyes looked around the bushes and the snow, till his eyes landed on a familiar golden-eyed dragon that peaked behind the bushes. 

“Smoke!” Ramuel exclaimed in shock. 

Smoke got excited and jumped out of the bushes to greet him. 

“No! No! No! Why are you here?! “ Ramuel repeated to himself as he turned toward the dragon. “Stay hidden!  They will hurt you if they see you!” he ushered as he pushed the dragon’s head down. 

“Ramuel… Is everything alright? Who are you talking to?” his mother questioned as she and his father glanced at him. 

“Nothing! Just…. talking to myself a bit. I kinda miss my friends,” Ramuel quickly replied, keeping the dragon hidden behind him.  

“Oh, Ramuel. Everything will be alright,” his mother said assuringly before they looked away. 

Ramuel took the chance to stand up and push the dragon away from his parents. He led the little dragon behind some boxes and wagons that provided a good hiding spot from the other people. Smoke luckily followed without an issue and Ramuel sat down against the boxes, staring at the dragon before him. 

Ramuel whined, holding his head in frustration. 

“You really shouldn't be here,” he uttered, but the dragon only tilted its head at him with a curious look. 

“I’m not Samuel. He’s dead. I’m Ramuel,” Ramuel held his head, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to fall at the thought of his brother. Smoke whined, then nudged his snout against Ramuel’s hand. 

Ramuel gently petted the dragon’s head. 

Ramuel looked Smoke in the eye, the surprise and frustration leaving his mind. Despite everything, he felt comforted by the dragon’s presence. 

"Thanks for coming, though. I’m glad to see you too,” he said softly as he petted the dragon. Smoke purred and laid down in the boy’s lap. Ramuel smiled, finding comfort in the presence of his strange new friend in this unnerving situation.

Taglist: @natchayaphorn@kimnamnu@thatrandomidiot182@springfountain@maedhrosiseverything2me

[countrymusiclover]

34 - The Secrets We Keep

Part 35

The Last Velaryon

Tag list @rise-my-angel @cdragons @kmc1989 @starkleila @1not-today-satan1

Making my way down thick stone steps I could see one of my family's ships and the Velaryon flag blowing in the heavy breeze. The boat creaked some when I stepped up onto the main deck. Crew members who were in charge of managing the stability of the entire ship glanced in my direction briefly but didn’t bow until my father’s voice cut across the deck. “Address your Queen properly or I’ll throw you lot overboard.” Not even a second later the crew members dropped down on one knee and bowing their heads.

I nodded my head keeping my gaze focused on my father who came down the small steps that led up to the ship's wheel till he reached me. “That truly isn’t necessary, father.”

“It is, dear daughter. I have declared our banner to be loyal to your husband and these men are loyal to me. They should respect you properly.” He explained back to me. My father was dressed in a sea green and dark clothing and his hair was pulled back barely with a hair pin.

Resting one hand over my swollen belly I shifted my gaze over to the captain quarters door. “Father, could we speak privately about something?”

“Yes, come, come.” He nodded leading me to the door, opening it so I could go inside first. Stepping over the threshold we entered the room and he closed the door when he stepped inside. “What do you wish to discuss with me?”

Pulling out a chair from the table I sat down resting my elbows on the tiny wooden table. “Let’s start with good news first. I am pregnant with Robb’s child once again.”

“That’s such joyful news. Hopefully this one can truly be born.” A smile grew across my father’s face.

I softly nodded my head in agreement with him making a vow to myself to never bring up the fact that the first baby was of Lannister lion blood. “The other thing I wished to speak with you about has to do with this nasty war. Chezney is off negotiating with Renly Baratheon and I am here feeling almost useless just waiting for something to happen.”

“What are you asking of me, Haelesa?” My father finally asked bluntly into the air, sensing that I wasn’t telling him what I really wanted from him.

Lowering my gaze to my hands on the table I sucked in a breath. “I need to send some letters to someone in particular and you have to promise me you won’t freak out when I tell you who they are going to.”

“Who are you writing letters to?” My father asked slowly, tapping his fingers on the back of the chair he stood behind rather then sit down with me.

I paused before his name slipped past my lips. “Tyrion.”

“The dwarf Lannister. Why would you write to our enemy?” His eyes went bug and he stomped over to me grabbing onto the armrests of my chair.

Leaning my back further against the wooden chair I gulped trying to not panic at how angry he seemed. “Chezney has been writing to him. She - she’s fallen for him. I don’t see her a traitor, father. Tyrion cares for her too and he needs to know that nothing bad has happened to her given the fact that she hasn’t wrote him for some time.”

“How many others know about this secret Romeo and Juliet scandal?”

I shrugged my shoulders in response. “It’s just me..and now you. They’ve been very careful to not mess up and tell Robb, or Cersei and especially Tywin.” My father takes a step backwards running a hand down his face. I slid down in my chair lower just wanting all these secrets and battles to be over.

Tyrion’s pov

I was sitting in my chair in the small council room reading over the Master of Coin book until I heard the door creak opened and shut. Turning slightly in my chair I saw my father coming over to me glaring even after he took his seat at the other end of the table. “I have given you one job and you have yet to put a child in Sansa Stark. I demand to know why you haven’t performed.”

“It didn't seem right to share her bed without me getting to know her first. She did after all come here with her now dead father and disappeared and very likely dead younger sister.”

My father Tywin got up from his chair walking over to a table covered in paperwork. “You don’t need to have a connection with her to put a child in her.”

“That seems rather cruel.” I snapped back at him.

My father turned to face me. “One way or another you will get that girl pregnant.”

“I will not rape her!”

“Shall I explain to you in one simple lesson how the world works?” He mocked me.

Rolling my eyes I replied back. “Use small words, I'm not as bright as you.”

“The house that puts family first will always defeat the house that puts the whims and wishes of its sons and daughters first. A good man does everything in his power to better the position of his family regardless of his own selfish desires. Does that amuse you?”

I sent him a sly smile. “It’s ready for you to preach utter devotion to family when you're making all the decisions.”

“You think it's easy for me?” Tywin raised his brows.

I clutched my hands into fists at my sides. “When have you ever done something that wasn't in your interest but solely for the benefit of the family?”

“The day that you were born!” Father shouted back at me.

The chamber doors suddenly busted open banging loudly when they collided with the stone wall. My father and I sharply turned our heads in the direction seeing my sister stomping up to me clutching some papers in her hands. My sister shoved me away from our father where I stumbled into the table. “I've always called you a monster and now you have given me proof to see I was right all this time.”

“What are you - how did you find those?” I gasped, snatching the papers from her hands. My eyes went bug and nearly all the color in my face disappeared recognizing what was written on each individual piece of paper. The papers in my hands were the secret letters between me and Chezney.

Cersei glared down at me. “I have thousands of spies in my employ. I had them follow you and tell me every time you left your chambers. And when you were gone I found these. I have felt that you have been hiding something from me for far too long and I was RIGHT!” She stomped her feet on the hard floor.

Our father questioned her immediately, needing to understand what was happening. “Cersei, what is the meaning of this?”

“The monster who killed the love of your life and my mother has been writing secret letters to the enemy. He’s writing to that handmaiden of the traitorous maiden you forced my brother to marry.”

Father knitted his brows together. “The Velaryon Seahorse girl. How dare you betray the family. I could have thrown you into the ocean to die but I raised you up as my son and this is the thanks I get for it!”

“I’ve told you for years, father. I’ve tried to make Jaime see it but he has been delusional to how much of a traitor to this family he has always been. We need to be rid of him!” Cersei stepped forward pushing me until I fell onto the floor, clutching the letters against my chest.

The words escaped my lips before I realized what secret I had just admitted to one of the most powerful men in Westeros. “Joffrey, Mrycella and Tommen aren’t Robert Baratheon’s children. They’re Jaime’s!”

“What?” Father growled under his breath.

Cersei attempted to change my words. “He’s lying, father. Jaime and I only slept together the one time at the Rock. He’s just terrified that we’ll hunt down and kill his little whore.”

“How dare you! Chezney’s not some whore.” I raised my voice getting to my feet with my blood beginning to boil at the way she insulted a girl she knew barely anything about.

Our father shouted, causing the heated conversation from going any further. Cersei and I turned our attention onto him when he dismissed me from the next conversation they were about to have. “Enough both of you. Cersei, you and I need to talk now. Tyrion, get out and I’ll deal with you later.”

“But father-“

He cut my sister off pointing towards the doorway telling me to leave. “Quiet daughter! Tyrion, go!” I scrambled up from the stone floor running out as fast as my little legs would carry me, making sure I didn’t drop any of the letters.

Busting inside my chambers I saw that my sister had ripped the room apart. The drawers were thrown open, curtains and fabric torn. And the wooden crate was sitting on the center of the bed with a busted lock hanging from it. Climbing up onto the bed I reached inside the box finding that my mother’s ring was surprisingly still there. Finding some string I tied it around the jewelry, slipping the necklace over my head and mumbling up towards the ceiling. “Oh gods what have I done.”

[charliebear2105]

I wanted to have a go at these codex prompts specifically #30 A note/letter that Rook never sent. The letter is heavily inspired by the letter that lemony Snicket sent Beatrice.

She was going to read out the letter to Emmrich after the tearstone battle. He'd eventually find it in her office.

My dearest Emmrich,

My brother suggested I write this letter. Something about getting all my thoughts in order and before you tell me off, yes I went to see avi by myself but the streets were surprisingly calm considering the sudden eclipse. I just needed to go somewhere where I wasn't rook, I was just Isha.

I'm not very good at jotting down my innermost thoughts and I'm probably just going to be rambling. I suppose I should get on with the reason for this silly letter.

I'm sorry for the words said in our argument. Personally, I wouldn't call our disagreement an argument. In my experience arguments usually ended with a black-eye but that's neither here nor there.

Either way I shouldn't have said it but the truth of the matter was is that I'm scared. I'm sodding terrified.

I'm scared that I'm leading you to what could be your death. I'm scared we won't succeed in the fight against the gods but mostly I was scared you didn't want me anymore, that you finally came to your senses and realised that I'm just a silly dwarf.

And before you interject, yes, I know I'm being daft because you’ve never made me feel small or stupid. I've never felt anything like how you make me feel, you treat me like I'm a precious gemstone or some goddess. It is very intoxicating.

I lost my chain of thought. What I was trying to say is that I know you're scared too and that's ok because we can be afraid together.

I know you think yourself a burden, a chore I would have to labour through, but my dear wonderful Emmrich you are a gift sent by whatever divine being there is and if the price for your love is grief then I would pay it tenfold for you.

Honestly I thought the conversation was going to go in a different direction. I thought since we were nearing the end of our adventure you were pondering the future, our future.

I assumed you'd ask me to join you nevarra and that you would panic that it was too big of a ask and I would make a joke that you had nothing to worry your brilliant mind about.

I never thought about what would come after, I just assumed that I would die in the fight against the gods, we are facing terrible odds, and if not afterwards I'd thought I’d go to my calling but that's not what I want now.

What I want is to join you in Nevarra, to see all your favourite places, to teach Manfred wicked grace and tell him stories at night, I want to go to bed with you every night and wake up with your scent on my pillow because let's face it I'm not going to wake up with you, what kind of madman wakes up at 4 in the morning. You are but that's besides the point.

I want it all, Emmrich. Every last morsel that you'll give me. I want to see the world through your eyes and be glad for the insight it gives me into your beautiful soul.

Whatever happens next, I want you to know that I love you and I will love you forever. Till I die and after I'm embraced into the stone, and when I find my way out of the deep roads, I'll drift about forever, till I find you again..

I will love you with no regard to the outrage of whoever opposes our union. I will love you if I never see you again, and I will love you if I see you every Tuesday. I will love you as we grow older. I will love you no matter what happens to you or me. I will love you if we succeed. I will love you if we fail. I will love you even as the world goes on its wicked way.

I love you always. Continuously and without reward or witness.

I love you Emmrich.

All my love and devotion,

Eternally yours,

Isha

[vigilskeep]

growing up without any connection to the fade at all among so many mages and spirits. growing up deaf & blind to something happening all around you, lonely among scholars whose gifts you will never share or understand. but the spirits have known you and loved you so long that maybe they try even harder to reach you? the weaker ones acting like playful ghosts, pulling books off shelves and making candles flicker so you know you’re not alone. and belonging to this underground city all your life, maybe the stone loves you too!! having stone sense and always being able to find your way in the dark no matter how the necropolis shifts and dances, quickest to locate lost rooms and monuments... and i just love the idea of a connection between traditional dwarven culture and nevarra’s, with the burial of the honoured dead so important to them both. dwarf ingellvar taking so much pride in being accepted to the mourn watch, no matter their lack of magic, so they can defend the halls of a nation’s ancestors

there’s just so much material here it’s a very good combo

dwarf ingellvars are very important to me

[orbital-inclination]

I requested more of the scenario Molt meeting og nightmare

I'm sorry for the wait anon! For a change of pace, you get a one-shot this time! word count: 3411 general content warning for canon typical violence and angst.

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Something grainy, like gravel and sand, crunched under the soles of his boots as he shuffled back a step. One looping tendril made contact with a roughly cut boulder behind him. The height of the stone reached his hip. Clumsily, he ran his phalanges along its surface. He stepped around it and stopped once he stood on the south side, uncertain of how to proceed from there.

It was rare that he found himself in a space so wide open without someone nearby. He’d like to think he was better at navigating now than he had been when he was younger. Yet, regardless of how much time passed, he could never seem to quite outgrow the sudden spike of anxiety he felt whenever he entered a space that seemed... empty.

 He didn’t know what he was walking towards or away from. He could be approaching a canyon for all he knew.

A steady, lonely wind howled above him. It caught the tail of his tunic and the fabric slapped against his side. Something rustled in the distance. 

The wind turned cold. 

Ley lines of magic, negative and positive, wrapped around this world in a vast net of ever-shifting ripe tides. Instinct had directed him to follow the nearest positive swell but now he felt it move again. Bending as though to make way. Just as suddenly as the air had turned cold, a well opened up, and negativity cascaded down the pit and condensed into a single point of black frost. 

A shiver ran down his spine. “Nightmare…?”

Something about Rem’s magic didn’t feel right—

“How unlike you to make the first move. Was it not enough for you to…” his brother’s voice trailed off. “You are not my brother.” 

No... no he was not. Rem’s magic felt cold, but not this cold. Though, the undercurrent of bitterness was painfully familiar. 

“… the sentiment is mutual,” Molt murmured. He steadied himself on the boulder behind him. Silently, he tried to gauge the other’s intent.

An air of suspicion and curiosity rolled underneath the cold. He had the sense he was also being appraised.

“And yet, you are Dream.”

He did not sound—did not feel happy about that.

“If it were not impossible, I would wager you were from a divergent timeline.”

“Our world had only one timeline,” Molt confirmed cautiously. His voice remained low. “… it’s tied to the multiverse itself. No resets. Just the one.”

“Ah, so you are informed,” his brother's voice mocked. “Your presence here suggests a paradox, then. For all my searching, I have never met another iteration of us who could breach the confines of their AU on their own. It seemed there was some law restricting the role of Guardian to Two.”

He nodded because that more or less described the situation back home. With a renewed sense of scrutiny, Nightmare said, “Can I assume then, that instead of your brother, you were the one who bit the apple?”

And Molt stalled. The question was so direct. It felt a bit like a verbal slap to the face. 

Nightmare hummed. “I see. That expression you’re making... It makes sense for my alternative self to have other motives if you are like this yourself.” He heard the grin in his tone, even if he could not see it. “Tell me, Dream. What do you say to adding to that collection of yours?” He— he couldn’t be serious. 

“In this multiverse, you have the opportunity to increase your power. If you collect the last apple from my brother, perhaps we can reach an agreement.”

His mouth felt suddenly dry. He had to consciously still his tentacles to keep them from lashing defensively.

“You… you want me to kill my counterpart.”

He struggled to wrap his mind around that. Less so the threat itself and more so that it was Nightmare who was asking him to do it. He felt sick.

His brother’s alternate rumbled a low laugh. “It would not be difficult for you. You dwarf him in raw power. I’m confident you could easily subdue him... Ah, but I see I cannot convince you. The thought distresses you. A pity.”

Gravel and sand crunched underfoot. The sound came quietly. “ … hmm just as I thought, you are blind.”

“...what are you doing?” 

Nightmare was amused by the question. Dread washed over him. Nightmare had been speaking to him civilly until that point, and while this mirror of his brother gave off an ambient feeling of danger, he had not taken the feeling as seriously as he should have. 

“I am considering what to do with you. Since it seems you are reluctant to cooperate. But you would be of a dull mind not to suspect that already. If you are anything like the thorn I have in my side now, I’m sure you will quickly surmise why I simply cannot let your existence go unchecked.” 

Molt slowly shuffled a step back. 

“… where do you think you will escape to? Are you even aware of what is behind you?”

Molt froze.

He sensed no one behind him but— the subtle rustle of fabric. A step was taken closer and it dawned on him that Nightmare had been trying to distract him.

Molt’s hearing was keen. It had to be. He learned to rely on it when sensing nearby emotions, and the flow of positive and negative wasn’t enough. But his haptic memory was better, and with one tentacle brushing against the boulder behind him, he knew which side he stood on and which direction he originally came from. 

He darted around the boulder, squarely placing it between himself and Nightmare. His brother’s alternate self stood still, contemplative and mildly surprised. 

“Hm. You cannot see, and yet you are able to pinpoint my position. Interesting.” 

Molt didn’t feel like providing a reply.

Nightmare didn’t move for a width of time that felt like years. And then, he vanished. The cold sucked out of the air in a blip of distorted space-time.

Alarm seized him. Given no time to think, he picked direction and distance at random and took a shortcut through. As he felt his bones materialize in reality again, a dense frame of cold magic solidified where he had stood seconds prior.

Displeasure radiated off of Nightmare in waves. “Come now. Don’t run. It’s unbecoming. We can discuss the terms of your departure from this world with maturity.”

Molt shivered. “Don’t. I would return to my reality if I knew how.”

“Then allow me to assist you,” Nightmare said, and the malice in his words sent needles crawling up his spine. He vanished again in a wash of cold. Molt leaped back, grasping at the nearest tide of positivity to carry him away.

He found his feet again on the sand. The sudden incline made him stumble. The seconds it took to catch his balance nearly cost him. A frustrated growl and the sensation of ice to his right was the only warning he had before a sharp object whistled past his skull. He teleported again and Nightmare followed. 

“Enough! Cease this childishness.” The burning cold struck his side. Molt tumbled to the ground. He rolled, gasping in pain, and launched himself to the side. “Stop! I don’t want to fight you.” A loud crack sounded where he’d just been. Gravel pelted his arm. 

“Then what happens next is your own fault,” His brother’s voice snarled.

He took another shortcut. Aiming north of the dense vortex of cold desperately trying to put some distance between himself and his brother’s counterpart. He needed that distance to escape this AU. If he attempted the jump too close to Nightmare he might unintentionally drag him along, or Nightmare would be able to sense where he went and this fight would never end. The temperature plummeted. In a split second, a cold tendril snapped around his middle. And then he was flung. His body hit the ground once, twice, and his skull was knocked against something hard. 

A hiss shuddered through his ribcage. Molt clenched his teeth as the world spun, attempting to swallow back the sound. 

“You brought this on yourself, Dream.” 

Gravel and sand crunched at a steady pace. Malice approached slowly. 

He struggled to push himself upright. The ground beneath him swayed dangerously. His tendrils lashed, writhing in defense of their host. But the ground beneath him lurched, his arms buckled, and the ground swung up to meet the side of his skull again. 

His soul pulsed so fast and hard in his chest, he thought he was going to be sick. 

“Poetic, isn’t it? I wonder... did the same desperation drive you?”

Cold wrapped around him and slammed his back into a hard, stone wall. 

Claws dug into his jaw, roughly pinning his skull to the stone slab behind him. A strained hiss tore from his bared teeth. He found the strength to wrestle one arm free and dug his claws into the wrist pinning his head down. Nightmare’s strength didn’t waver, but an involuntary noise rattled through him, a jolt that was close enough to a flinch to be nothing else. 

Faintly, Molt felt the phantom echo of a hot brand race up Nightmare’s arm, starting from where his claws dug into his wrist.

“W-why are you doing this? I am not from your timeline, so why?”

“The distinction is irrelevant,” the grip on his jaw tightened. “This fate, it’s the least you deserve. For everything you put me through. For every day I was left to defend myself while you selfishly basked in undeserved praise.” 

Exhaustion crept into his limbs. He felt weaker and heavier by the second.

“Would you have always resented me?” Molt gasped out. “If things had been different... If our lives had been better—”

Nightmare barked out a bitter laugh. “Even as you are now, you are naive. No. I cannot imagine a world where I did not hate you. For us, no other outcome was possible.” Molt flinched. “... you doubt me? Do you actually believe my alternate self doesn’t resent you?” 

The knife in his heart gave a sharp lurch. It would make sense... wouldn’t it. For all he hadn’t done, who wouldn’t resent him? 

“N-Night...”

“You neglected your responsibilities, Dream. You were selfish. I’ve always wondered if you had known what I stood to lose that day. If you had known what they had planned to do—” “Nightmare!” Molt snapped. He was terrified, his soul shook, and he was painfully cold. “That was my home too!” Something snapped. He felt the abrupt, quaking shift in Nightmare’s demeanor. Rage colored all rational thought. Molt didn’t know what he intended to do and he didn’t have time to think about it. That rage solidified into a single, sharp tool. Malice soaked the thing so vividly, he could almost see it. A serrated bone dagger.

Molt jerked his head to the side, the claws on his jaw slipped, and something sharp and blisteringly cold scraped the side of his skull.

He might have blacked out for a few seconds. He couldn’t be sure. One moment, his vision was black. Then it was white. He’d yanked a tentacle free in the next. A resounding crack thundered through the stone lab behind him. Nightmare’s grip on his head slipped, caught off guard. Molt kicked his shin, and as Nightmare staggered, snarling, he flash-stepped out of immediate reach. 

A safe distance away he sank to the ground. 

Head swimming, he lifted a shaky hand to the side of his skull. He felt bone. The dry, clean surface of a malar bone. The muddy, blurred shape of his palm swam in and out of focus. 

Nightmare stood very still for a long moment. His emotions felt stunted and Molt could not identify the feeling that had rendered him so still. Moments ago, Nightmare had been content to hurt him in every possible way.

“Get up,” Nightmare said. And he couldn’t identify the emotion behind that command either. It felt like anger but brittle. “I said get up!”

A tremble racked through his body. He felt a forbidden spark of anger ignite in his throat and shakily rose to his feet.

As he slowly lifted his gaze, palm still pressed to the side of his skull, he saw black tar and went still. 

It was one thing to guess the shape of the magic that had tossed him around the field like a rag doll, but it was another thing entirely, to see it.

The ground felt like it was tilting. Nightmare was taking too long to respond. And though he hid it well, he was clearly in pain. Head swimming. Pounding. Red-hot needles. Nausea pricked through his brother’s bones.

Nightmare took one step closer. Molt flinched back, and a bitter smile crawled over his brother’s teeth—

“NOT SO FAST!”

A sharp ping. His vision was eclipsed in hazy blue. Before Molt could blink, he found himself yanked to the side, several feet away.

He was released, gently at that, and stumbled once as gravity resumed its normal weight. The world erupted in a cacophony of noise. With color and light sloshing together, it was difficult to make out shape and form, but the stirring magic immediately in front of him was familiar.

“Blue?” Molt whispered, but like Nightmare his magic felt just slightly off. The hope in his soul withered. He was surrounded by strangers.

“MWEH HEH HEH FEAR NOT STRANGE INTERDIMENSIONAL CITIZEN! WE ARE HERE TO SAVE THE DAY. NIGHTMARE! YOU WILL NOT GET AWAY WITH THIS!”

Whatever his brother’s mirror said in reply it was drowned out by noise.

“Wait.”

But his voice was too low. Too quiet. And his plea went ignored.

Too much happened at once after that. The Swap Sans launched himself into the fight. Light. Movement. A flash of white. Bones summoned then shattered by the furious sweep of a black arm. Nightmare’s strength was weakening. The balance had tipped. And battling three by himself? Nightmare couldn’t keep this up for much longer.

Most of the fight happened too fast for his barely stable eyelight to track.

So he did what he always did when the world around him became too chaotic to follow. He reached for the cold pitch of his brother’s magic. 

He followed the current of cold as it funneled into a singular point. Pushed back, and back again by a burning white star. Hope. Concentration. Concern for the other, yet the courage to see his actions through to the end. The familiarity of the magic here was disconcerting. But his head already ached something awful and he didn't think his nausea could get much worse. The phantom lashes he’d endured at Nightmare’s hand still burned. But... Nightmare. He felt his twin’s exhaustion, felt the unsteady slip to his heel, and his alternate was closing in now and—

The shortcut was rough. Poorly executed. And finding his balance on the balls of his feet was not fun. He raised his arm defensively, anticipating the attack seconds before, and found his hand closing around the pole of a golden staff. It smacked into his palm with a solid clank. It hurt only a little bit. His own magic absorbed the brunt of the blow to feed itself. To lessen some of his own pain. And staring into the wide eyes of his own face was... 

Dizzying. 

Everything was dizzying. 

That startled look melted into one of fear, and it didn’t make sense. His own rib cage hitched, sharing that fear second hand and then it dawned on him how this might look. Oh. He thought. …oh.

He released his counterpart's weapon and yanked his hand back. The other skeleton flash stepped out of reach, his soul pulsing with the rhythm of a terrified rabbit.

Within the pool of frigid cold at his back, he felt a spark of something that felt suspiciously like gratitude. Nightmare struggled to stand for a moment, winded, then laughed. The sound was not pleasant. “Recklessness must be a universal trait.”

“That’s enough,” Molt rasped. “Please. Just stop…”

“You should have taken my offer when you had the chance,” Nightmare sneered, words bitting. But more than anything, they felt defensive. The darkness pinched into a small, black star, and then he was gone.

“I SEE. WAS I MISTAKEN THEN? ARE YOU AND NIGHTMARE ALLIES?” Blue had taken a defensive stance beside his teammate. His weapon was drawn, but he didn’t move yet. His soul hummed with grim focus. The suspicion hurt. 

Molt struggled to speak for several precious seconds. Unsettled. He was reeling from the fight, from everything he had learned about this reality and the cruelty of his brother's words and actions and he was trying ever so hard not to let a tremble snake its way into his voice. It was very hard... to hear someone say those awful things in Rem’s voice.

He shook his head and said softly. “We aren’t.”

Blue’s brow furrowed. “THEN, WHY DID YOU DEFEND HIM? 

The words ‘because he is my brother?’ were on the edge of his teeth but the hostile edge to Blue’s magic and tone made him pause. It was less a question and more of an accusation. And that answer wouldn’t have been exactly true besides. 

The tendril on his back coiled defensively. 

He hadn’t stopped to think before he leapt in front of Nightmare. It hadn’t been a “should I or shouldn’t I” situation in his mind. In that moment he was unable to look past the pain and hurt his brother’s mirror was experiencing. In that moment, the distinction didn’t matter. He had to put a stop to it, that’s all. He couldn’t fight his brother. In any form he took. He just couldn’t do it. It reminded him of too much. And he couldn’t stand to watch that either. 

But how could he possibly explain that? 

A step behind his teammate, Dream was trying to calm down. Blue’s presence helped but he was struggling. Molt took a step back. He was causing someone pain and distress. He didn’t want that. Blue’s stance shifted. Bracing.

That felt like betrayal too. Molt swallowed something bitter behind his teeth and tried not to think of it that way. Ignored that small part of him that hissed and felt a little bit angry. It didn’t make sense. He knew the person in front of him wasn’t his friend.

“FRIEND, I WANT TO GIVE YOU THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT BUT... YOU ARE ACTING SUSPICIOUSLY.”

“I’ll leave,” Molt said. His head was pounding, and the last thing he wanted was to be dragged into another fight. “Wait...” Dream took a breath. “You’re hurt. Stay for a minute, let’s talk.” “DREAM IS RIGHT, POTENTIAL ENEMY OR NOT, IT WOULDN’T BE RIGHT TO LEAVE YOU THIS WAY. NOT TO FEAR HOWEVER, I AM ALWAYS PREPARED!” “It’s okay. I don’t need candy,” Molt said and felt vaguely like he was reading the lines of a script. If Rem or any of the others were here, they’d be calling his bluff. “Then, what do you need?”

“Somewhere calm, with hope. That’s all.”

The two exchanged a look. Surprise, suspicion, resignation, dread. “I SEE. SO YOU ARE LIKE DREAM THEN. BUT SURELY THAT'S NOT ENOUGH. I... I CANNOT SEEM TO CHECK YOU FOR SOME REASON, BUT YOU DO NOT LOOK WELL.”

Blue seemed to ask to Dream something silently. Concern. Suspicion. Acceptance. Dream sighed. “I know somewhere. It’ll be okay. We’ll be keeping an eye on him together, right? The place I’m thinking of is isolated so...”

“IT’S SETTLED THEN.” he finally dismissed his weapon, and Molt felt the tendrils on his back slowly lower. “SO THEN, NEW FRIEND, WHAT DO YOU SAY TO A TRUCE? WILL YOU COME WITH US?”

He gauged their intent for a moment. Rem had sometimes remarked that his empathy made him gullible. But Molt was tired, and sore, and aching. The others weren’t here. And he let them make decisions for him too much anyway. He hated to admit it but Nightmare was right. Dream wasn’t a physical threat to him. He was scared and trying so hard to be brave, and Molt was trying equally hard not to feel rattled.

“Okay,” he said.

Blue made a noise, something between acknowledgment and mild confusion. Dream offered a strained smile. He supposed they had a lot of questions.

[kasha-formerlydrabbletastic]

Whilst On Your Knees

Thorin (The Hobbit) x Fem!Reader

Summary: The reader and Thorin get into an argument before the reader storms off to the armory to blow off some steam. Thorin follows her there, sexy times ensue.

Inspired by this imagine found at @thereandbackagainimagines

Word Count: 1,733

Warnings: MATURE 18+. MINORS - DO NOT INTERACT. Implied argument, cunnilingus.

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Bebother and confusticate that Dwarf!

Fuming, you slam the massive wooden door to your bedroom shut, leaving an infuriating Thorin in bed to grumble to himself while you storm through the hallway, into the sitting room, and out the door of your shared quarters. This door slams, too, echoing along the stone walls of the otherwise silent corridor. Your bare feet pad along the chilly floor, but you pay it no notice as Thorin's words resound in your mind.

"Why are you being so difficult?" he had snarled not two minutes ago during a discussion about policy with the Elves; you are the queen after all, why should you not have a say in regards to foreign relations? Not to mention, queen or not, your temper isn't nearly as mercurial as his, making you far more suited to dealing with Thranduil than him.

Luckily you hadn't said that to his face. Mahal knows how that would've transpired.

Your nightgown flutters around your feet as you pass door after silent door, marching by torchlight to the armory where you'll gladly take up a sword and practice until you collapse into exhaustion if it meant getting your mind off the subject.

And that is just what you do.

Given the late hour, there is no one awake, and you ran into no one on your way to the armory, optimal conditions in the quest to abate your frustration. Without a soul in sight, you take up a sword, weighing the balance of it in your hand before slicing it through the air. You step into your favorite routine, getting lost in the movements as your concentration narrows down to simply knowing how to cut down your foe, bring him to his knees in submission.

Entranced by your imaginary victories, you hardly notice when Thorin steps into the armory himself; he slows the moment he lays eyes on you, standing near a rack of axes, watching as you move with such grace, such precision. The knot in his chest loosens, even if he had already decided to grovel at your feet for forgiveness, and his lips twitch into a gentle smile. He knew you'd be down here, pulled himself out of bed only moments after the front door slammed shut. He had been surprised to see how quickly you had moved, but walked at a slower pace to allow you some room before he so rudely invaded it to plead.

Something, though, tingles on your neck, your senses standing on end as you slow the swing in progress. You wheel around, your sword at the ready before you spot your husband.

"Thorin," you speak through your teeth.

"Amralime," he replies, and you roll your eyes.

"What do you want?"

"I've come to apologize," he says, slowly stepping forward. "It is only ever after you've left the room that I realize how stupid I've been, and this time was no different."

You grit your teeth, still not quenched of your anger with him, but lowering your weapon all the same.

"Oh, is that so? What changed your mind then?"

You turn your back on him, returning to your practice and awaiting his answer.

"The realization that I could never have gotten to where I am without your keen mind," he says, his voice low. "The same as always."

You huff, carrying on. You assume he's waiting for you to respond, and you let him stew for a moment. He deserves it, after all, with his earlier insistence that you were wrong about the Elves. Seconds pass, then minutes start to tick by, and part of you wonders if he's simply given up, gone back to bed with no satisfaction to be had. Before the full thought forms to turn around and check, though, you feel his strong hand around your forearm, gently bringing it down and turning you about.

"What, Thorin?" you nearly growl.

His eyes, as blue as ever, fix onto yours, wide and apologetic as he slides the sword from your grip.

"I want to make this right," he says. "I would rather not go to bed angry tonight."

"Should've thought about that before you said I was barking mad wanting to extend aid to Mirkwood."

You make to turn around again, but he doesn't allow it. In fact, he takes both your wrists in his hands as he falls to his knees before you.

"I was wrong," he says before pressing a kiss to your knuckles. "And I am sorry."

You sigh, grappling with your frustration and the sight of this man on his knees before you, groveling. Your heart begins to soften as he continues to press kiss after kiss to your hands. His own hands move to the outside of your thighs, his fingertips pressing into your flesh as he looks up at you.

"Forgive me?" he says, inching forward on his knees, his hands sliding to the backs of your thighs to pull you closer.

A tingle of another kind bleeds from the contact, crawling along your skin to settle in your core; he is at the perfect height for it, you think, and would likely be most willing to do anything you say.

"Thorin," you say, unable to keep the sultry tone from your voice. "I will gladly forgive you."

"You willl?" he replies, his eyes going wide with relief.

"On one condition."

"Name it."

Your hand finds his jaw, your fingertips scratching through his beard as you look him dead in the eye.

"As long as you can glean another thing you can do for me whilst on your knees like that," you say, the corner of your lip pulling into a smirk, "you shall earn my forgiveness."

For a moment, Thorin simply stares, contemplating your words before it clicks into place. He grins, letting his hands fall to the hem of your nightgown to lift it up.

"Mmm," you hum as his lips meet your knee, his beard tickling the sensitive skin of your thighs as he trails kisses up, up, up. His teeth graze your hip as he moves across your skin, pressing kisses against your womb before he swipes the tip of his nose along your folds, grazing your clit gently and taking a deep breath in.

"Mahal, the scent of you," he growls before licking a stripe between your lips.

A shot of bliss strikes through you and you gasp, your fingers burying into his hair immediately as he gets to work; his tongue works over your clit, lapping at you like the nourishment you are. His hands wander, one holding your nightgown up while the other grips your backside, pulling you closer to him the longer he's at worship. He's intent on guiding you into oblivion as he sucks on your clit, pulling at it with vigor before letting his tongue slide down into your cunt. He savors you, the nectar that drips from you coating his tastebuds as he repents.

Your hips press forward as your grip in his hair tightens, grinding against his face before he drops your nightgown altogether.

In the next moment, he parts your legs with his arms, scooting you up onto his shoulders as he lays back onto the floor, inviting you onto his face. A moan dances from your lips into the air as he pulls you as close to his face as possible, part of you concerned that you might smother him. That concern is quickly swept away as he tightens his arms around your thighs and doubles his efforts with his tongue, eager to please, eager to atone for his transgressions.

"Ah, Thorin," you cry, your hips beginning to grind against his mouth.

A growl rumbles from his chest, making you quiver with his heat. It isn't long until the thrill licks up into your belly; you stand on the precipice of ecstasy, looking down into the maw of oblivion with nothing but Thorin's tongue to thank for it.

He doubles his efforts, knowing how close you are with the whimpers that leave your lips, his fingertips pressing bruises into your thighs.

"Ah!" you nearly shout, your legs trembling as you finally tip into mind-numbing pleasure. "Fuck! Thorin!"

The rush floods your veins, coursing through you from toe to tip as your cunt pulses around nothing. Thorin's tongue refuses to quit, however, working you through your orgasm, into the immediate overstimulation, and right back into maddening arousal once more.

Thorin takes advantage of your distraction, flipping you onto your back as he lays on his tummy between your legs, inserting his fingers into your quivering hole. At once, he beckons another climax forward as he crooks his fingertips into your g-spot and his free arm rests over your hips. He keeps you in place as he maintains his pace, and you mewl, your hands wandering your body in every attempt to heighten the sensation. Your fingers find your nipples through the thin fabric of your nightgown, and you pinch them, roll them between the pads of your fingertips as your orgasm rebuilds.

The sounds Thorin makes are feral, moaning and very nearly growling with his satisfaction as he takes his fill of you. Just knowing how wrecked this man is by you, how constantly starved he is for your pussy, sends you sky high, adding to the rhythm of his tongue and fingers.

Your orgasm comes closer and closer as your moans and whimpers fill the room to the ceiling, barreling through you as Thorin pulls your clit between his lips and sucks. You come around his fingers, your walls gripping them tightly as your body convulses.

He doesn't stop until you beg him to.

"Thorin," you breathe, batting gently at his head with your hands. "Enough."

At your words, he slows, placing gentle kisses to your clit, your lips, before re-emerging. His eyes are clouded with desire, his mouth coated in your release.

"I think, my lady," he says, almost breathlessly, "that we shall continue this in our quarters."

He braces himself upon his arms over you, lowering down to kiss you; you taste yourself on his lips and his barely contained erection brushes against your tender sex.

"Will we even make it that far?" you giggle as his mouth wanders down your neck.

Thorin pushes up to look you in the eye, mischief gleaming in his as he says, "Time will tell, amralime."

[thewertsearch]

Trolls Made Our Universe: The Analysis

Let's talk about it.

Looking back, it's pretty clear that this was always our destination. The comic's scope has been on an upward trajectory for thousands of pages, and the Ultimate Alchemy hype has been building since midway through Act 4.

Hell, even I thought the planet I theorized about was just going to be a stepping stone to something bigger. Homestuck just keeps escalating - we might not even stop here, although I can't predict what the next step would be, since we're working with multiple varieties of multiverse already.

Anyway, this reveal confirms that Sburb's grandstanding about the Players' importance isn't just hot air - they really do serve a critical purpose. Assertions that this 'purpose' is more important than saving Earth are still dubious - but now, I can at least understand the coldly utilitarian place the game is coming from.

I still don't know why it has to work this way, but now I finally know what's happening. Earth's universe was born from the blood of Alternia, and the kids were created to perpetuate the cycle again, creating a new universe from the blood of Earth.

Close! It was less of a gasp, though, and more of an under-the-breath 'what the fuck'. I don't know why a universe surprised me as much as it did - like I said, I was already half-expecting a planet!

I think the real sticking point is the difference in scale - and, as a consequence, the difference in Grist cost.

It makes a certain intuitive sense that you could convert the Denizen Grist into a planet - comparable in size, presumably, to the planetoids that the Denizens call home. But a universe is an entirely different animal, one which would dwarf the Incipisphere by dozens of orders of magnitude.

Extrapolating from the typical volume of a Grist piece, four Land-sized vaults of the stuff wouldn't be nearly enough. Even if Denizen Grist is a million times more valuable than normal, and each Denizen released a million times the Incipisphere's volume in Grist, it still wouldn't be nearly enough.

I guess the game could just hardcode the Grist cost of a universe down to a manageable value, but that would break the game's own rules, and doesn't seem in spirit with how its progression system works.

No, I think something screwy must be going on with the Denizen hoards. Maybe they're full of special Grist, each piece of which is worth 1e70 normal pieces - or maybe picking them up actually multiplies the value of your grist cache, rather than adding to it.

I guess I shouldn't be surprised that the hoards are this comically large. After all, their value is beyond even Vriska's imagination.

The exact mechanics here are definitely worth speculating about. Let's talk about how, exactly, this universe may have come to be. The trolls obviously can't have crafted this thing atom-by-atom, or even planet-by-planet - not unless Aradia took them into the Hyperbolic Time Chamber for a billion years of blueprinting.

A lot of Alternian culture is integrated into Earth, though, and it had to get there somehow. In keeping with what anon said, I think these ideas were sort of 'merged' into the universe when it was created.

After all, Sburb is all about merging ideas, and we've been working with idea-merging machines since day one!

The trolls alchemized their universe, even if they didn't use a traditional Alchemiter to do so. If they wanted their universe to exhibit certain traits, all they needed to do was feed it certain ingredients, merging them with whatever 'universe' object they presumably gained access to at the end of the game. I'm just going to call it the seed.

Maybe the reason humans look so much like trolls is because the trolls inserted their codes into their universe's alchemy recipe, perhaps attempting to revive the troll species without the Matriorb.

Wait, scratch that.

Maybe the reason humans look so much like trolls, and have red blood, is because one specific troll's code ended up in their recipe.

Come to think of it - since we're already doing large-scale alchemy, there's a pretty easy way for the trolls to ensure that every trait they want ends up in their new universe.

All they'd need is a fetch modus and a drawing tablet.

If you're being evicted into a new universe, you might as well make it feel like home.

Adding Alternia's code to the seed would, in one fell swoop, explain all the facets of troll culture observed on Earth. It would also, in a way, 'resurrect' the troll homeworld without truly reviving it - a bittersweet prize for our victorious Players.

As mentioned above, it would be weird if Earth was the only planet to inherit DNA from Old Man Alternia. It would make sense if each civilization exhibited different Alternian traits - like, maybe there's an exoplanet out there somewhere where lusi evolved, and another where everyone has the same necromantic powers as Aradia.

It also means the universe was probably full of space empires. If the meteors didn't get Earth, Neo-Alternia might have eventually come knocking...

I also think I was conflating the signs on the trolls' clothes with the signs of the Alternian Zodiac, without considering that those might be two entirely different sets of 'signs'. The trolls themselves never refer to Cancer or Aquarius as Zodiac signs, after all. Maybe the Extended Zodiac is a different thing entirely.

Anyway - yeah, that is interesting. The kids' universe was created by twelve Players, and now its stars bear their signature - so whose signature is embedded in the trolls' stars?

An implied 48-Player session sounds amazing. Doubly so, if Hussie's using Squiddles to imply a Horrorterror session. That's an absolutely fascinating idea, on so many levels, and I do hope we see the trolls speculating about their own creators at some point.

Of course, this 48-sign Squiddles stuff could also be a red herring. I'm getting used to how this comic works, and just so it's on record...

...this is what I suspect is actually going on.

In any case, I'm as hyped as you all are!

Hussie's hand has finally been shown, and Homestuck has been revealed as the creation myth that had been built up all along. I can't wait to see what's next.

[jull-reblogs]

Yes looking into it could be interesting :D

Might have really been almond paste then! Depends on whether it was creamy or not ^^

Yay chestnuts!! I’m glad you could finally find some! And I guess it would be possible to make calissons with tangerines.

Oh really!! Here in France keto isn’t really widespread so most of the time people don’t even know what I’m talking about and think I’m some kind of weirdo. It’s even worse being on the carnivore diet!

Yeah staying keto/carnivore can be hard especially around the holidays, but it has improved my life in such a significant way that I can never look back. Though I’m much less strict now than I was during my first years. I allow myself little breaks, and around Christmas I let myself indulge in foods I wouldn’t eat otherwise haha. It’s about finding the right balance and there’s no need to be in ketogenesis all the time, except at first when trying to adapt. I don’t know why you’re doing it, but if you try it again I hope you’ll get the results you’re looking for!

Oh I’d like to try a peach cobbler with vanilla ice cream!! I’ll keep in it mind for the summer, thanks for recommending it!

I’m happy to help with your Zora! Yes I could definitely see them be interested in Sheikah culture and sushi making! I think it’s’ pretty common for French chefs to be fascinated by Japanese cuisine, and the reverse is true as well ^^

Makes sense that the Mogma wouldn’t have access to dairy!

Ah yes pear brandy sounds like a good idea!! I’m glad you found that interesting! The equivalent of pommeau with pears is poirineau though, not poireau (that’s how we say leeks in French 😁). I love these ideas about Nayru Pears and all the associated traditions and history!

If you’re looking for a cheese course Hebra could have something like a cheese fondue, fondue savoyarde or raclette. These hearty dishes are perfect for cold climates!

Sure it's not the Zonai’s fault, but I still wish things were different!

Yes I believe the Great Fairies are deities and are worshipped by the population (though maybe not throughout all eras since they are not always that easy to find). Their fountains kind of look like shrines after all. But it makes more sense to me that they would be worshipped directly at their fountains rather than in a separate temple. But maybe the ruins were once the fountains? And the Great Fairies needing offerings in BotW aligns with this idea that they might need followers!

The Gerudo do live in a desert in my version! I guess you thought it wasn't the case because I said Lanayru Province wouldn't be affected by climate change in this timeline? Well that is true, but here Lanayru is roughly the BotW province + a part of Central Hyrule, it's not the same place as Gerudo Desert. I have my own unified map of Hyrule similar to yours and I promise it makes a degree of sense ^^

Ah yes magical clothes would explain what was going on with Time!

Sure it wasn't Rauru alone so it wasn’t the best exemple, but it's still tremendous power that kind of dwarfs Link.

I definitely agree that the Sages should have been called something else! I still would find it a bit lame that you can face Ganondorf without completing all the main quests, but I'd be less pissed about it. I guess they could simply have been Hyrule's new Champions with their powers enhanced by Secret Stones and that would be it.

Ah yes it’s possible that the Sages in TotK are more like the Wise Men from AoL! I find that less interesting than the Seven Sages, but it could make sense.

No problem! It’s possible that my Sages will be related to the ancient Sages anyway, as you said. I just don’t feel obligated to do it that way ^^

OoT Ganondorf and soap opera? That sounds fun :D

Sure but the young vai can return to their childhood village if they so desire. That old couple in Tarrey Town hopes Mattison will be able to come back and marry there like her mom did for exemple, something like that would be impossible for the young voe. As someone who had to leave my childhood town for work and always longs to return, that sounds harsh!

I tend to see Hyrule as a fairy tale kingdom that doesn’t have such terrible infant mortality rates, but I understand if you're aiming for something more realistic.

Yeah I'd be more inclined to go with the second option and say non-organic monsters would be more powerful, but to each their own interpretation!

Now I’m wondering if Fi knows what a healthy relationship is haha. Would she have protested had Link treated her like an object?

Yeah making the Sage of Lightning Gan's sister is a bit predictable! I’m curious about what you’ll come up with!

Ah I see, this origin story makes sense for the Gerudo. I prefer to think they were always from Hyrule (or Hylia's Realm, or whatever it was called before) like the other races, but that works as well! And it makes sense for them to have round ears in this setting.

My only problem with people reincarnating as their own descendants is that I'm a Zelink shipper and I like to think at least some of their incarnations got together after the games... so that means the next Link and Zelda would share the same bloodline, and also that some Links might have royal blood which I'm really opposed to. But well maybe Link is a bit of an exception, or his different incarnations are separated by enough time that he has no clue about his ancestors. Otherwise what you're saying makes complete sense and it explains why different iterations of the same character look so similar.

Oh so your Groose is partly an incarnation of Demise! I'm not going that road but I can see where this idea comes from. It is indeed a master plan :D

Ah yes of course your Gan and Nemma would have half Gerudo and Sheikah children! This is going to be interesting :D

I think there are heavy laborers among the Gerudo but we simply never got to see them. The same way I think the Rito built their village themselves even though we never saw any Rito carpenter (until Billson in TotK). I believe the Gerudo have enough physical strength to handle tasks usually reserved for men. There are also a lot of other jobs missing, I don’t think it means they don’t exist.

Haha the Twinrova spouting such liberal nonsense would be quite funny! It could also be Ganondorf himself (and his fragile ego once again) talking other men down 😆 

I agree about magic, I don’t like the idea that it can fix everything. Healing magic isn’t exactly widespread anyway, and elixirs aren’t that powerful unless you use rare ingredients (such as fairies or hearty lizards). And you would need to be aware of a genetic disease in order to try doing something about it anyway.

I’ve been researching all the NPCs from BotW and TotK in order to build my own version of post-BotW Hyrule (I know almost all of them by heart now haha) and there’s this doctor called Spoone I had completely forgotten about. Well maybe because he’s not a doctor anymore in TotK (sigh), but that’s beside the point. Spoone explains to Link that Naydra’s scale is “some sort of miraculous medicine that works against all kinds of ailments”. So there’s that, but it’s not like the average Hylian can easily get their hands on a dragon scale. I don’t even know how this random dude knows about Naydra ^^

I know I have to be careful about how I handle the Gerudo and it can be tricky. I’m not saying what they’re doing is okay, just trying to understand why they work that way. You’re right about the Heroines being ashamed about what was done to the Eighth, and I loved that part of the story!

Yes this exemple with the female cats is the kind of vibe I’m going for! And if you remember in TotK Fegran watches over the children at night and says the Gerudo “are a big family”. So I think they all take responsibility for the vehvi in some way and have a strong sense of sisterhood.

Oh I see! It’s pretty tragic if Time is Tempo’s son and he has to travel to the future in order to avenge him. Poor dad Link :((

I want to do something similar and rearrange the timeline as well when I’ll have more time to think about it. I’d really love to get rid of the Downfall Timeline, I’m sure it’s possible to do things differently. I’d prefer to keep only the Adult and Child timelines but what you’re saying also makes sense.

So in this new version of things BotW is at the end of the two merged timelines? Does that change anything to the map you showed me? ^^

Thanks for adding the right picture!

@aikoiya The post was getting long again so here's a new one!

I knew you were going to answer that saying "this is unfair" isn't real life logic haha (and I agree that life hasn't been fair to Sky and Sun anyway). It's just that such an ending would probably leave me feeling unsatisfied and even a bit robbed, and I think it would require a lot of other changes to be made to the story in order for it to work properly. But anyway you're right, as things are now this would just be happening behind the scenes so what I'm saying doesn't really make sense. But just thinking about it changes my perception of SS in a way I don't really enjoy, so it's not a theory I favor.

Yes in that setting I'm pretty sure that the other Sun would not make herself known to Link and Zelda and would let them have their happy ending. But I think Zelda would likely suspect her existence and know that something is wrong. I guess even Link could notice that the Temple's doors are suddenly open and would ask Impa a few questions.

I had no idea Tingle called Farore the Goddess of Wind in WW, so I went on a little quest to see if I could find the same quote in the French version of the game. Apparently it's in Tingle's description of Outset Island and I never had the chance to play with the Tingle Tuner mode. I can't find the same quote in French anywhere and I don't even know if this was included in the HD remake (I guess I'll have to wait for a Switch version to find out… if they ever release one). This has me wondering if this quote isn't something exclusive to the English version, but I can't be sure and I'd like to know what the original Japanese text says. The French wikis mention that Farore is the Goddess of Wind in WW but don't provide any quote, it just looks like the pages were translated from English but that they couldn't find the same quote in French. It's really frustrating!!

Anyway that's a bit weird because WW already establishes Zephos as the God of Wind, and he seems to be a minor deity compared to Farore. The way I see it, wind is just the element that Farore tends to be associated with, and since a lot of myths might have been lost with Hyrule in WW this could just be a mistake on Tingle's part. I mean this is the game that gave us the Golden Triumph Forks haha.

I'm not limiting Nayru/the Golden Goddesses to a singular domain, quite the opposite ^^ To me Nayru being the Goddess of Wisdom includes different concepts such as order, law, science, magic, etc., and even time (since she's introduced as the creator of the world's fondamental laws), while calling her the Goddess of Time doesn't include all of that. That's why I wrote that I found it a bit restrictive. But sure she could have both titles, the same way Farore could be known most commonly as the Goddess of Courage and also called the Goddess of Wind in some situations.

Oh I didn't think of the blocks from OoT! I would say though that they don't really use any time powers, they're just random blocks that appear or disappear for some reason when Link plays the Song of Time (it's just as absurd as playing the Song of Storms to open holes in the ground haha). But yes they were blue and associated with time, and of course Nayru is too. The difference with Hylia in my theory is that Nayru created the rules of time (if that makes sense) among other fundamental laws, while Hylia's power specifically allows her to manipulate time and foresee the future. In a way I see Hylia as Nayru's spiritual daughter who inherited some of her powers over time (and that's why the color purple she's represented with is very close to blue).

The Master Sword has also been depicted as either blue or purple though, so that asks the question of the true color of all of these things! Nayru is definitely linked to time so it makes sense that the timeshift stones are in Lanayru (and Hylia also doesn't have a province named after her).

"From the edge of time" could definitely just be a poetic way to say that Hylia kind of recorded a message for Link before dying haha. But I find it interesting that she would phrase it like that, I like to see it as a clue.

Well if Zelda simply sent Link to a point further back in time, wouldn't there be two Links existing at the same time in the Child Timeline? But sure Zelda creating a brand new timeline also raises a few questions that kind of... make my head hurt. I'm not sure what happens exactly, I've always wondered! All we know is that Link finds himself in the Master Sword's chamber with the Door of Time already open, which hints at things happening in a different way this time (because he definitely doesn't have the three spiritual stones and the Ocarina of Time yet since this is before Ganon's coup, and the ending seems to imply that this timeline's Zelda doesn't know him yet). That's why I believe Zelda might have done something a bit more complex than sending him to a point further back in time, but there's no way to be sure. The Triforce of Courage is also visible on Link's hand during the ending, and we also know thanks to TP that the Triforce is still separated in the Child Timeline despite Link and Zelda preventing Ganon from entering the Sacred Realm this time. So maybe Zelda isn't able to change everything? It's complicated haha.

Anyway, whether OoT Zelda creates a new timeline or just sends Link further back in time, that's still huge time powers and that's not something Link is able to do by playing Zelda's Lullaby.

I also believe it is more likely that Talon inherited the ranch. True, Talon might not always have been so lazy, but maybe if that was the case the game could have hinted at hit. All we know is that he leaves his daughter alone with Ingo and only comes back after Link deals with the situation, which does not make him look so great. And he only promises to work harder after that.

I'm kind of bad with names so I'm impressed you're going through all of that trouble to rename the settlements!!

I haven't gotten to developping the technology that much yet, but I'm really interested in seeing what the different races could do with it! I love the idea of using the Sheikah to infiltrate the Yiga bases. I wish TotK had done something like that and shown the Sheikah helping Link that way.

Same, I was so excited when I heard about these pirates… and then so disappointed to find nothing more than a bunch of bokos with no backstory.

Vignoble is not related to noble (though I kind of make the association in my mind, especially since vignobles are sometimes called châteaux).

Yes I thought you could maybe use clos! Aquaticlos is funny, it can work! Though maybe you could use the same logic as for the raisins (I love this Raisins de Terre idea by the way, it makes sense!) and say that what the Zoras call a clos already refers to something that's underwater, since that's probably the case for most of what they cultivate.

I don't mind helping you with French, I'm glad to do so! You put so much effort and thought into this, it's really interesting.

[xstarkillerx]

Maul in the Jedi Temple (drabble)

I don’t know how much sense this is gonna make because it’s been a vague idea in my head for weeks, but if you’re a maul lover like me, do yourself a favour and (don’t) play the TFU Jedi Temple DLC wearing the Maul skin. It absolutely will make you confront the idea of Maul, years after the Clone Wars, seeking out the Temple Ruins for... something. He doesn’t quite know why he’s there, but he feels as though the front gate itself might smite him for daring to look upon it, even when it lets him in with ease.

He spends some time exploring the ruins, most of it untraversable now, but still grand, still teeming with light and remnants of a dead religion. The force feels different here. When he crushes the statues in the hall, or lifts the giant globe off the ground, it's not a destructive act, it's almost playful, a back and forth between him and the energy that flows through the building.

Something calls him to the heart of the temple, a dark hall with a Holocron at the end of it. Blue and holy and inviting it bursts to life without his having to touch it, putting forth a towering projection of a man, a Jedi, in a hood.

"My son..." It booms and what a novel concept, Maul thinks, a Jedi bearing children. " you now control your own destiny. The dark side is strong in you," Maul feels small, infantile, voyeuristic, dwarfed by the projection with the warm voice whose message is clearly not for him." but you can still be saved.” It says. “The blood of a true Jedi, my blood, flows through you but you must complete the trials..." He tunes the rest out. It isn't long before he is blinded and dropped in the middle of a stone abyss.

Menial challenges are set before him, the fabled Jedi trials, child’s fodder honestly, but he proceeds. Maul is led to a stone platform. From the dark emerges something that makes him want to vomit, a red zabrak with black markings, silent, stoic, no older than 22 years old. He sees it now, he was truly a frightening presence at that age. Darth circles him on hunter’s feet, never making so much as an audible scuff on the stone floor. Maul flexes his left foot, a new habit garnered by a tight joint he hasn’t had the spare part to fix yet. He knows himself, knows that Darth will attack swiftly, so he takes what milliseconds he has to try to remember how he would have fought when his body was complete. He'd be faster, lighter, more agile, but more cocky, a warrior who hasn't tasted the sour of loss; loss of limb, loss of life, of status, of sanity.

The duel is bloody, a flurry of red light. Maul hasn't thrown himself into battle like this since he was a young man, thirsty for purpose and proof that his existence is not a mistake. Maul reigns victorious in the end. He slices Darth in half and pierces him through the heart with his saber, a sickening thing to watch from this new perspective after playing in his head over and over again those long years he spent in the madness and filth. He kicks Darth’s body off the ledge into the seeming endless abyss. A guttural scream erupts from his chest and he falls to his knees. It stings his eyes and scratches away at the walls of tight throat, the urge to cry like a babe. 

The dark side is strong in you but... echoes in his ears. Maul thinks about whoever's wretched son that Holocron was meant for, what special purpose he must have to be seen as redeemable in the eyes of the pious Jedi.  

  The dark side is strong in you but... Maul covers his ears, a futile action in the in the bellowing silence of the stone abyss, but it lets him hear his own heart rate as it slows in the comedown from adrenaline. 

The dark side is strong in you but... He thinks about his own miserable little life. He thinks of parenthood, of those precious few moments his mother held him before damning her runt. 

 The dark side is strong in you but... He thinks of Sith, of Jedi, of the force that binds the two. What would he have been if they had found the runt first, those so-called keepers of peace. If they raised him in the light, would they have adorned his horns in silly beads, given him sandy coloured robes, condemned him to life lacking in riches and sex and... would they have abandoned him too?

“but you can still be saved.”  Maul retches at the thought. The Jedi failed that runt, as they failed the Galaxy those many years ago. The Jedi failed him, it was never his choice to make an enemy of them. And yet...

 Maul absentmindedly flexes his left foot and adjusts his position on the floor, folding his metal legs under himself as best he can. The thought does cross his mind that somehow he’s found himself on the winning end of their trial, their test of worthiness, at the heart of their temple. He chooses not to linger on it. Maul finds himself occupied with the lively silence of the temple instead, a warm breeze of energy passing through his body like a sheet of linen.

 Somewhere, floating in that space in time, he realizes his lightsaber went over the ledge with Darth, buried in the young man’s chest. 

Somehow it’s not a discomforting thought.

[shoutydwarf]

people don’t call inquisition/da:d “elf simulator”/”elf age” because they hate elves and elvhen lore. Let Me Be Clear: 

- elves have the most special dialogue options. even more if you’re a f!mage. bioware accidentally forgot dalish elves know who mythal is for ONE dialogue wheel and people really used it to run with the idea that elves were somehow narratively shafted during inquisition; meanwhile dwarves in the descent dlc, you know, THE DWARF DLC where you get your Crumb Of Dwarf, you get next to no special dialogue options besides being told by valta that you’re not a Real Dwarf and you don’t have stone sense (which isn’t even true. stone sense comes back to all dwarves if they’re underground long enough. this is more of bioware trying to prove all the disgusting corrupt systems in place are Acthually Correct Trollol.. that or they just forgot bc they dont care.) 

- eluvians, the fade, fen’harel, everything that comes out of solas’s mouth, a chunk of WEWH, inquisitor ameridan being a dalish elf, etc is not at all narratively relevant to anyone but an elf inquisitor. spin all the stories you want to make eluvians and elvhen gods important to your non-elf OCs but off what we get in the games alone, without doing an ungodly amount of work to make it fit, what BIOWARE has established, it means nothing. you can argue that all of this is important to the inquisitor on principal of them Being inquisitor but... be fucking serious

- elves seeing the crossroads differently than other races. just another special elfy thing

- every single religion is being geared up to link back to the elves. i think we can all agree by now that andraste is flemythal and the maker is mythal (whether u think the theory is good or not is neither here nor there, bioware is so predictable at this point). and thank god she freed the dwarves from the titans, amirite! it’d really suck if the dwarves had something exclusive! (bioware if you try to paint the titans as slavers and mythal as the Dwarven Savior........................)

- you can make an argument for any of the origins in da:o fitting “the best” as canon. the dalish elf is as ignorant to the world outside of the forest as the player is. cousland is your classic betrayed hero thrust into saving the world tale. dwarves are intrinsically tied to the darkspawn/wardens. the mages are freed birds but the world outside their cage is corrupted and torn asunder. tabris/brosca is your saving the world that never fought for them back tale. they all equally mean something in unique, valuable ways to the main story and it shows through ample unique dialogue options and main quest relevance. 

- can you REALLLLYYYYY say the same for all of the non-elf da:i origins? what do we got, a mercenary vashoth. a carta dwarf. a human noble or mage. all random NPCs fr. but the dalish elf who unlocks the power of an elvhen orb which leads to a slew of world-shattering reveals about the lore they grew up with and believed in? meanwhile ur dwarf/human/qunari inquisitor didn’t even know there WAS a plot twist. they didnt even know there was a plot

- all of this extra elf stuff would be perfectly fine. the countless elvhen ruins, lore reveals etc. if it was even REMOTELY evenly distributed across all the races. BUT IT’S NOT. 

- it would also be fine if inquisition was a one-off elf-focused game but they used the opportunity to take from every other races’ lore and make it about elves, so now A. there’s no going back, B. the 4th game’s title is literally dreadwolf wow i wonder who the story is going to be written for, C. if i ever have to hear with my own two ears “i’ve been through shit that would make the deep roads look like a cake walk!” followed by the dwarf at the receiving end of this Dying From Being Pwned, i’m going to get violent

- the point is that it’s bioware’s fault, not the elves. “elf simulator” is poking fun at biowares pandering to solavellan twitter, not at elf players lmao

[whatifxwereyou]

The Oncoming Storm 01 - The Flood

Fandom: Mortal Kombat 2021

Liu Kang x Reader or Kung Lao x Reader

Summary: Reader is a woman in her late 20s who had a peculiar childhood. She worked in her family dojo that was attached to a shop! You wake up in an unfamiliar place, wounded, with a somewhat familiar man. These moments will change your life forever.

A/N: I’ve been a huge Mortal Kombat fan for years and I saw the movie the other day. This reader x fic will follow the path/story/idea of the movies!! I have never done one of these before. If anyone is interested in it, I will continue on. It will either be Kung Lao x Reader or Liu Kang x Reader (or both, depending, bwahaha) but I haven’t decided yet. This is just the beginning. There will be plenty of fluff/establishment/smut if I get that far! Enjoy! Remember this is only for fun. Thanks for reading! Edit- You might notice the writing got better suddenly. I'm going through old chapters to casually edit.

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Your head was spinning. When you opened your eyes, you briefly caught the outline of a small room before it spun around you. Vertigo. It took ages for your head to stop spinning even in the darkness of your mind’s eye. Something cold and wet was pressed gently to your forehead, applying the slightest bit of pressure. Small droplets of water trickled over your brow, down your nose and irritated your sinuses. Others traced down the sides of your face and nestled into the mat of your dyed black hair. It was naturally stark white but you’d kept up with the black to better blend in.

Shifting, the bed beneath you felt plush and foreign. This was not your bed. Your bed was a modest bedroll that often left your back aching. What had you been doing that you would wake up somewhere strange? Flashes of a fight rushed into your mind. That was right! You’d been closing up shop for the night when men had rushed in, donned masks, and dressed in black. They’d been armed with blades.

You sat upright, fists at the ready and prepared for a fight. Your arms were aching and constricted, bound in tight cloth. Pain radiated down to your elbows and up to your shoulders. Coughing, your mouth tasted like smoke- acrid and sickening. Worse than that, you felt your heart beating too hard and too fast. There was a deep, familiar pain inside of you, a pain you hadn’t felt since your youth. You could picture in your mind’s eye your shop in flames and the dojo attached to it catching fire.

“Move slowly.” A confident but quiet voice consoled you. He was Chinese, like you, and his voice was soft but commanding. “You have a fever.” Careful but strong hands urged you to rest back down. In a snap, you knocked his hands away. He removed them with such grace and control that you knew he was either a dancer or a fighter. You guessed the latter. The room spun again but you forced your vision to focus. “I knew you were a martial artist but I did not know the extent of your skills.”

You caught a glimpse of the stranger. His short black hair was messy and pulled back from his forehead in a top knot. He had handsome features, dark eyes, and he was nostranger. You’d seen him before but today he was not wearing the wide-brimmed hat that you associated him with.

“You’re handy with a blade. I’m impressed.” He complimented. It was likely that he thought you were still threatened by him. Smart. You were. He’d been coming to the shop attached to your dojo every few months for the last couple of years. Each time his purchase was drastically different. Sometimes it was a weapon, sometimes precious stones, or herbs. Most times he came in just to have you sharpen a blade that you never saw him with again. You had allowed him entry to the dojo to watch classes and observe goings on. Sometimes he showed up every day for weeks a time. Sometimes you didn’t see him for months.

He’d been harmless. The only words that he’d ever spoken to you had been kind and reserved.

“Where am I?” You decided that was the right question. You knew who he was and what had happened for the most part. It was the ‘where’ that puzzled you.

“Do you remember what happened?”

You threw him a glance with dark eyes and he offered a smile that clearly said you wouldn’t get any answers from him until you gave yours. He was worried that your memory had suffered. The dizziness made sense now. You must have struck your head.

“It was late. I was cleaning up the shop before close when a group of men entered. They were trouble, treating wares carelessly. I asked them to leave since I was closing up. They donned masks and things escalated.” Things had more than escalated but it seemed to you that this stranger already knew many of the details of what had occurred without you saying. The men had threatened you with drawn blades and made demands involving you and your dojo that you had refused to bow to. “I had no choice but to defend myself.”

“You killed them.” It wasn’t an accusation. He just understood how your story ended.

“They left me with no choice. I didn’t ask for violence.” You turned your gaze. The room had finally stopped spinning but in a word, you felt like crap. Coughing, you recalled the fire and snapped your attention back to the friendly stranger. “My shop… the dojo!”

“I’m sorry.” He bowed his head respectfully. “The fire spread too quickly. There was nothing to be done.”

“I have to go. I…”

“You can’t go back.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine. You couldn’t go back. Hanging your head, you resigned to the truth. He was right. You knew it. “I suppose not. I killed those men. I’m a murderer.”

“Those men were cruel and deserved the punishment you dealt them. As far as I’m concerned your action were justified.”

Your brow furrowed. He so easily absolved you of taking the lives of others. You didn’t think the guilt would fade so easily but now was not the time to dwell on it.

“How long have you had the dragon mark?” That was what he really wanted to discuss. His eyes sparkled even in the darkness of the small room- a still completely foreign and strange place. He’d offered you no answers even after you’d given him his.

“Dragon mark?” You didn’t have one as far as you knew. You’d seen others with a dragon marking but had never asked what it meant or why it had been there. You’d once asked your sister about it but she had never noticed the mark on anyone before. Then you’d never spoken of it again. You’d seen things that others could not in your youth and were nervous about bringing things like that up.

“On your back.”

You turned with a snap but it had been foolish. There was no way for you to see it at that angle. Pain shot through you as you searched for it with your left hand. Your forearms had been wrapped tightly but blood was seeping through the gauze, staining it crimson.

“Careful. You were wounded when you offered those men mercy.”

Much to your surprise, he took your hand in his own, the size of his strong hands dwarfing your petite ones. Then he guided your hand carefully to the mark on your lower back. There it was, plain as day. Raised skin in a circle with a dragon head in the middle. It was like a scar, as though you had been branded with it some time ago. Yet, you knew that it hadn’t been there that morning when you’d bathed.

“That’s… new to me.” You didn’t know how else to phrase it and laughed beneath your breath at how silly it sounded not to know it had been there.

“Do you know about the Order of Light?” He was feeling you out, gauging what you knew.

You were hesitant to answer, nervous that what you knew would get you into trouble. When most people entered your shop, they spoke amongst themselves. You learned many secrets that way. You were usually paid little mind unless you were teaching classes or fighting. You’d heard of the Order of Light before. Your curiosity had given you much more than you’d bargained for. You’d learned of other realms, Gods, magic powers. They were the sorts of things you’d read about in fiction. You’d never thought there was much truth to them but part of you had always hoped there was.

“Why do you know so much about what happened to me?” You answered his question with one of your own. It was about time that you got answers instead of just giving them.

“I heard the commotion at your shop. I came to help.” It was his turn to hesitate. “I confess that I’m fond of your dojo. It’s a peaceful reprieve for me. You bring light to a place that has very little.” He bowed his head apologetically, handsome face stern. “It was too late for me to do much but I saw the end of your fight. It was a graceful dance. You offered them mercy and were punished for your kindness. Then the building caught fire. You won the battle but it collapsed with you still inside. I pulled you free before it was too late.”

Funny.

You hadn’t noticed any burns. You remembered fire. You could feel the smoke still in your lungs but the only wounds you remembered suffering were those on your arms and the back of your head. They had to have been terrible. The cold you’d noticed upon waking up had only worsened and now your vision was spotty and hazy around the edges.

“When the authorities came to deal with the fire, I brought you somewhere safe. I didn’t wish for you to be caught.” He lifted his gaze and placed his fist against his palm with a polite bow. “I’m Kung Lao. Forgive my rudeness for not introducing myself earlier.”

You laughed.

There was no way!

You hadn’t heard that name in years. He was confused by your laughter and cocked an eyebrow. “I’m sorry. I haven’t heard that name in ages. It’s not a common one either. You can’t be Kung Lao.”

“…but I am.”

“The only Kung Lao I’ve ever known died years ago.”

“That’s what was told to people when I left.” Kung Lao’s eyes were shining with amusement. The flicker of the candle resting on the small table next to the bed you rested in danced in his dark eyes. “Do we know each other?”

“If you are, in fact, the same Kung Lao who grew up here then yes, we did. I’m Y/N but I used to go by Y/N.” You hadn’t used your full name in years. It had rarely been used other than to tease you so you’d shortened it. Back then you’d been ill and the other kids had been afraid of you. “Kung Lao was my friend. A stubborn but sweet boy. We played together. He was one of the only people in town not afraid of me. Teased me which… made me angrier than it should have but he was apologetic afterward. The last time I saw him he gave me a purple flower. They don’t grow here anymore. I honestly have no idea where he got it. I could never find them again.”

Kung Lao was completely taken aback.

You supposed you could see the similarities. He could have been your Kung Lao all grown up, about twenty years later. He had similarly shaped eyes. Perhaps the familiarity of him had been why you’d trusted him to sit in on lessons. The idea that he was the same Kung Lao from your childhood made your stomach tighten up in knots. That was too much to deal with right now.

“Y/N?” His voice was soft and thoughtful as if he struggled to find truth in your words.

You bowed your head politely in greeting but it ached so terribly that you held it in your hands. Every movement felt like ice flowing through your veins. When you opened your eyes again your vision went from spotty to completely black. You’d gone blind! Panic raced through your thoughts and you blinked your eyes closed tight. Praying, you opened them again and were grateful that you could see even if your vision was still spotty. The room seemed hazier than before.

“Careful. Lay back and rest.” Kung Lao placed his hand on your shoulder to guide you but you pushed it away again.

“No, no. I should get something to eat. And some water. That will help.” You were sure that your vision was fading from blood loss or exhaustion. Either way food would help. You carefully draped your legs over the side of the bed. Your clothing was singed and bloodied. Gravity disagreed with your arms and your aching head, so you wound up hunching over. Kung Lao helped you sit upright again.

“Your fever is too high. What you need is a doctor.”

“You asked me about the Order of Light.” You ignored his concern in favor of more answers.

“Yes.”

“Then you know about the other realms, too? Is it true?”

Kung Lao was again taken by surprise and stuttered on his words comically.

“I must sound crazy. A man in a coolie hat, well the fanciest one that I’ve ever seen before, came in a few times over the years. I always thought he seemed a little funny. He referred to China as Earthrealm and mentioned the Order of Light in passing. I was curious as to what any of that meant and well, the internet is a fount of information, even for things like that. Most of what I read was on forums and conspiracy sites so I put next to no stake in it. Is any of it true?”

“I’m not the one who should be telling you this.”

“Kung Lao.” You scolded which incited a confident grin from him.

“Have you heard of Mortal Kombat then as well?”

You considered those words. You’d never heard them before so you shook your head no. At least you hadn’t heard them the way that he’d phrased them, as though it were something associated with the Order of Light.

“The mark on your back means that you’ve been chosen to fight.” Kung Lao began on what you were sure would be a lengthy explanation of what would come next but you had tuned him out. Your vision was blurring again. It faded around the edges and the world spun. You felt like you were floating.

“Kung Lao?” You interrupted, grasping blindly for him but your hands had gone numb. There was urgency in your voice.

“It’s okay. I’ll take you to Raiden’s Temple and there you’ll be guided through…”

“Not that. I can’t… I can’t see!” Panic was thick in your voice. Your breath was suddenly short in your chest and you collapsed against him, falling into unconsciousness.

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[messiambrandybuck]

You said make a requests so here I am! Nori comforting a reader when they have a panic attack?

Word Count : 846 - really short lol

Pairing : Nori x gn reader

Warnings : Panic Attacks

Author's Note : Sorry this took me so long! I really appreciate the request though, and hope you enjoy!

Everything was too much.

The noises were too loud. The sun was too bright. Your clothes- your skin- were suffocating. You just wanted to go home.

Tears burn your eyes like molten metal as you stumble through the thick crowds of Dale, breath wheezing past your lips as you pulled against your collar. Where were you? What time was it? Oh god, everyone was going to think you were crazy. They were all staring, weren’t they? Oh no, the tears- they blur your vision- you cannot see. Boots pad heavily against stone, the feet underneath feeling weighed to the ground. The sky was too vast. The men were too tall. The buildings were too big. It all surrounded you and made you feel like a tiny animal trapped in an ever-shrinking cage.

You didn’t really know where you were going, all you knew was that you had to keep moving or else you’d never be able to move again; you’d turn to stone right there in the streets of Dale. But whether by accident or pure subconscious instinct, you found yourself at Nori’s usual table in his favorite pub. It was a booth secluded off in the corner, most overlooked it, and more often than not it was shrouded in darkness. You always poked fun at him for it being such a dramatic spot, but right now it was perfect.

Shrugging off your multiple coats, and hastily tearing off your boots, you sit in the very corner of the booth, pulling your knees to your chest. You tried to ground yourself, really you did, but even there in the quietest spot you’d been in all day, everything still hurt your senses.

“Hey- what are you doin here?”

You could’ve recognized that voice from anywhere. On its own, your body reached out for Nori, tears flowing with newfound vigor. “I-It’s too much. I can’t- I- I can’t.”

“Oh, ‘ibinê..” He whispers, carefully pulling you close to him as he sits, blocking the rest of the pub from your view. “What happened?”

“So many… couldn’t breathe- Nori I couldn’t breathe-”

The dwarf hushes you gently, and guides your forehead to rest against him. He sways ever so slightly- back and forth, back and forth- slowly easing your thoughts and giving you something more pleasant to focus on.

“My brave Khajimel,” he hums softly, the sound resonating in his chest, “you did so well finding a safe place to go. I’m so proud of you. What is something you taste?”

“Metal.”

“Look past the fear,” He reminds you gently; and so you think a little harder.

“My- My lunch. I was gifted sweets.” By a little boy, who’d been handing them out to everyone. Whoever made them were almost on the same level as hobbits in their skill.

“Two things you smell?”

Back and forth, back and forth. The swaying helped you focus, and your body had already started to uncurl so it could be more comfortable against Nori. “Oranges and- and cinnamon.”

The dwarf smiles a bit to himself, fingers making their way through your hair. You always said that was what he smelt like, without fail. He never quite understood. “That’s good. You’re doing so well, ‘ibinê. 4 things you feel.”

That seemed like such a great many things. But you knew it would help, so you focused on what you could. “Fur… from your coat…”

“That’s good… what’s another?”

“Your arms. They’re heavy…”

“Not too heavy?” You shake your head. It was a nice weight, one that reminded you of the special blankets you had at home. “What is another thing you feel?”

You shift, and the table sticks into your side uncomfortably. “The table. In my side..”

Nori moves the both of you into a more comfortable position, slightly coaxing you to uncurl a bit more. “One last thing, ‘ibinê- you’re doing so well.”

“Your fingers in my hair.” They were so relaxing there, too; slightly rubbing against your scalp in a way that further grounded you to this moment, right here with Nori, as the panic slipped from your mind.

He gives a small hum, rewarding the observation with a small itch. “How are you feeling?”

Such an odd question. Who could truly encompass something as abstract and complex as emotion, with only words? Was there even a way to portray how something feels, truly? Surely not. So, you suppose, the world makes do with the tools it has. Like creating a mimic of life with only a paintbrush.

“Better… Tired...” And that was putting it lightly.

“Is that so?” You nod. “Sleep, Uzfakuh, and when you wake we’ll be home in our bed.”

Your grip on him tightens ever so slightly as your body relaxes at his words. Nori would keep you safe while you slept, and when you woke all of this would be behind you; you trusted this. So, you let your body relax more and more, his swaying lulling you.

As you fell asleep, Nori kisses the top of your head. “Menu tessu, ibinê- may rest bring you peace.”

[jq37]

The Report Card – Fantasy High: The Seven Ep 5

Through a Glass, Darkly

Welcome back to the Temple of the Earth Defiant where the girls and their magical horses (and one pony!) have found refuge from the strange, twisted, fae creatures that have been chasing them. The statue of Asha Hammerheart that Ost animated last episode is still alive and wrecking house on the remaining harpies and beasts that are foolish enough to keep fighting and the rest soon get the hint and flee. 

Ost does some healing (boosted by the ambient Hallow effect of the temple which gives everyone a short rest) and then, seeing the damage to the temple caused by erosion, starts using Mending to fix things up. Her friends help out too with Sam and Yelle being most effective--Sam by repairing water damage and Yelle by creating tree cover and other druid-y tricks. But of course, we can’t overlook Katja’s crucial addition of carving “A Horse is a Home” into one of the walls of this sacred temple. 

Anyway, the girls are nesting super hard, the horses are having their scrapbooking reviewing club (an insane thing that was established last episode) and then Sam asks a question. Did y’all mention something about a photo of me going viral? Everyone’s like yeah, but don’t worry, you looked super hot. That’s not the part Sam was worried about. What she’s worried about and what all the girls except Zelda don’t really seem to know is that Sam doesn’t really have a social media presence. So like, 180k and climbing views (as decided by a dice roll) isn’t really what she wants. She scrolls through the comments really quick and sees that they’re not awful but one person is like, “Hey that girl looks a lot like that character from that old show”. Which Sam doesn’t love. She says that she’s fine but also that, even without an Insight check, she’s obviously not. 

Sam kind of looks to Zelda to bail her out and Zelda is like, “Hey, I’m gonna delete this video.” The other girls follow suit, even though they don’t quite know what’s happening. When they have to split up to investigate, Sam has Zelda kind of bail her out again and they split up to go check a nest outside--Zelda waving off Danielle when she wants to go with. Ant and Yelle decide to check out a cache of some treasure they saw earlier and Ost and Katja stay with the horses to keep fixing the temple up. Penny initially goes with Ant and Yelle but rushes back to be with Ost and Kat when Ost discovers a hidden lock while she’s fixing a wall.

So, the girls are split up, let’s run all these scenes.

Antiope and Yelle

Ant and Yelle go see the pile of treasure (near the statue of dwarven paladin Yvonna) which they learn is like a “take a penny leave a penny” situation for weapons and items. They were left by adventures who were similarly chased here and you can take what you need as long as you leave something to help others. Like, “Oh no I only have an ice sword and I need flaming arrows.” It doesn’t have to be equivalent exchange, you just need to leave something useful.

In this space, Yelle feels a weird melancholy and like they’re within the watch of something vast and powerful. She tries to check for TK’s presence but rolls low. Antiope leaves her Kalvaxus killing shortsword and takes some really nice, white feather fledged arrows with mirror tips and an ax Kat wants as a present for her dad. Danielle takes a bandolier of potions (3 healing and 2 mystery I believe) and leaves a bunch of mushrooms. Some of them are psychedelic and Ant takes one because this is probably a good time to be high, right?

It’s not messing with her competence obviously though because she rolls a 25 on Primeval Awareness and gets a weird sense, like something is closing in on this place. And like something very powerful is bleeding, which combined with the chaos of the mountains might explain the weird harpies and the cat/dogs. But she’s high so she explains this is a very spacey, stoner way. Probably a good thing she’s with Yelle.

Sam and Zelda

Sam can fly and Zelda can basically walk vertically with her goat legs so they check out the nest. Well, ostensibly that’s what they’re doing. Really they’re just having a heart to heart. Sam thanks Zelda for saving her ass and apologizes profusely for being so short with her. Zelda gives her a huge mid-air hug and says it’s not a big deal because she knows Sam is just lashing out because she’s hurting but Sam says it’s not a good enough excuse and she’s truly sorry. It’s been her coping mechanism for so long but she doesn’t want to be that way. She tells Zelda that the Everpetals are divorcing and that she’s living alone and Zelda says that any one of the girls would be happy to have her stay with them. Sam further explains that this is a big part of the reason she’s been so broken up about the possibility of their group splitting up and Zelda immediately takes out her crystal and texts her “I’m in” in the thread, breaking Sam again. 

Since they’re in heart to heart mode, Sam tells her that she talked to her bio-mom and an agent and she’s not sure what to do. Zelda says that she’s gonna be spectacular no matter what she does and she doesn’t have to do any of them but it’s cool doors are opening for her but also Antiope and Penny are gonna be PISSED that she’s out here making side plans after she gave them so much shit for theirs. Lol, well it’s a nice moment in the meantime and we cut to…

Penny, Ost, and Katja 

While Penny is lockpicking (and also trying to teach one of the horses to lockpick because sure) Katja and Ost go talk to the statue of Asha Hammerheart. It seems to be animated with at least some level of her true consciousness from beyond the grave and that she can kind of woge into her statue when she wants, which is cool. She’s been there for like 250 years so that’s a lot of history to see. 

Ost is maybe the most polite we’ve ever seen her talking to Asha (at least to begin with lol) and they ask her about TK. Asha says she saw TK show up 12 years ago but she never left, at least not through the front door. And then about 2 years ago (right around when they were in the crystals) that’s when the harpy queen showed up. At first they were normal and then they started mutating. Also, recently, Korra (one of the other statues/heroes) saw a woman in the mountains--not TK. 

Ost then takes a page from the book of one St. Kristen Applebees and asks, “Hey. What’s the deal with our god? He never talks to us, does he just suck?” Asha--who has never talked to him even though she’s a martyred hero and literally in dwarf heaven makes some excuses for the guy but Katja scoffs at them. “If people wanna take care of you, they do.” Ost then straight up asks if Logran Soulforger is even real which sets Asha off but Ost isn’t mad AT her, she’s mad FOR her. You go and do all this cool shit to the point where you have this cool ass statue, you fully DIE for him and he doesn’t even say hi? With a 21 Persuasion check, Asha admits that yeah, she would have liked some recognition. She decides she’s gonna go do some talking to some people and leaves after getting Ost’s number but before they can ask more about the woman Korra saw (who they think is Charity). 

OK, that’s all the small group stuff! Everyone comes back as Penny finishes up with the lock and they go down into this room that’s full of polished, precious stones. This is probably where people who were upkeeping the temple stayed. While everyone else is going down, Sam feels some powerful magical pull--much like her episode 1 Lightning Lure--calling her from the top of the stairs so she goes back up. We’ll get back to her in a bit. 

Penny rolls a high check to clock what’s going on down here. First off, she finds flintlock bullets and airship uniform scraps which makes it seem like there was a battle here involving some airship guys from the Baronies. Which is not just the place of origin of Riz’s imaginary Romance Partner. It’s a cluster of nations known for high rates of monarchical turnover and renaissance style intrigue. I’m picturing just a nation of [REDACTED]s from Crown of Candy. 

With all of this stuff, Penny finds an emblem of a billionaire airship mogul named Lord Talcidimir Tallbreeze who is a friend of her dad’s. Yelle is immediately like FUCK billionaires which isn’t plot relevant but it’s nice to know she’s always on brand. 

Oh also, Penny just casually finds the Legendarium so that’s neat. 

To be safe, Ost casts Protection from Energy on Ant (who is the one who knows how to use it) and brings out her Spirit Guardian (who is a combo of her mom, nona, and Asha, with her dad’s rings). Ant checks it out and sees that there are currently no A, B, or C quests in all of Spyre. While Penny cross references the bylaws to see if there’s a way to get around this, Yelle does some druid BS that I still do not understand to use the crystals in the cave to jailbreak this super powerful magical Artifact so they can just have copies on their crystals. While that’s happening, let’s check on Sam. 

Sam goes back up the staircase where she sees Ending who doesn’t look menacing at all, just extremely sad. She’s looking out the mouth of the cave and, when she turns, Sam can see she’s crying blood. 

“What’s wrong?” asks Sam, the acid-tongued but good-hearted. “Can I help you?”

With a 25 Persuasion check to get her to talk, Ending apologizes for scaring her and her friends before. She didn’t mean to. She sometimes forgets that her very nature can be frightening and dangerous to others. She says that when she escaped, she tried to rejoin her sisters but found their mirrors shattered and them gone. Sam thought they escaped but that doesn’t make sense to Ending. If they had, why wouldn’t they have freed her as well?

Sam asks who her sisters were and we finally get true names for Ending and her sisters:

Chrona, Terra, Pyrria, Nira, Zefira, Anima, and herself, Talura (which is what I’ll be calling her now that we know). Talura is the baby, the youngest. Sam realizes she’s talking about the Eidolons and Talura seems surprised and a bit pleased that Sam recognizes them. 

Sam asks if she can hug her and Talura hugs her tightly in a very cold embrace that doesn’t hurt. Downstairs, she hears her friends (Penny specifically) freaking about about the lack of quests but she doesn’t break the hug. 

“My own sisters are struggling right now but I’m gonna stay with you because you don’t know where yours are. But maybe we can find them.”

Talura clocks that the way that Sam is being is her true nature, not the bitchiness she often uses as a shield. Then she starts to talk about her history. That she and her sisters were sealed away when the gods were done with them (Sam can relate to being used and set aside) and the only way out was death. Talura has been crying and looking for her sisters to no avail. Her tears of blood leaking seems to be what caused the monsters to mutate which is in line with what Yelle and Ant were sensing. 

Talura doesn’t think anything could have destroyed her sisters so she’s very confused. Sam offers Talura her Mirror of the Past because it almost knocked out Sam to get god-tier information but Talura presumably won’t have that problem. Talura offers her a boon in exchange for this great kindness but Sam says she doesn’t need any quid pro quo. “This is just because you’re hurting.”

Talura is supremely touched and still wants to do something for her new...friend? Sam accepts the title and says that what she needs is some help on her GED quest. Once she explains what she means, Talura again recognizes Aguefort and is like, Oh, you need a quest? I can totally help with that! As we learned earlier, these guys are kinda genie connected so it’s not super surprising when Talura very happily goes full your wish is my command.

Downstairs, a Class A quest suddenly appears in Spyre on the screen. 

Back upstairs, Talura says that it’s been too long since she got to grant a wish and seems really happy about it. Sam gives her the mirror so she can check what happened to her sisters but when she does, she totally flips out and gets super angry--not at Sam, just at whatever she’s looking at. She can hardly believe it. Sam tries to figure out what’s wrong but she just gets super big and then disappears into a puff of smoke, leaving Sam's mirror on the ground, covered in frost. 

Downstairs, the Class A quest expands across the entire globe and then the Legendarium cracks. Ost’s spirit guardian disappears because of alarm bells ringing in the afterlife. And the girls learn that a Class A quest is a quest that affects the whole MULTIVERSE. Yikes!

So anyway, they girls go upstairs to check on Sam (on a bear that Penny makes because sure) and they see that something clearly just happened with Sam. Yelle asks if she’s good and Sam is like yeahhhh I don’t think ANYONE is good right now. Sam seems like she’s about to cry and Antiope instantly forgets all the petty bullshit going on between them and rushes to make sure she’s not hurt. 

Sam gives the girls a rundown of what happened and Yelle concretely puts together what I said earlier about Talura’s tears messing with nature. 

Sam wants to check her mirror to see what Talura saw and Brennan says she can do it the safe way with risk of failure of the surefire way with risk of personal harm. She, of course, picks door 2 and rolls a 13 on her con save which means she rises into the air like Storm from X-Men, eyes wide, and then instantly passes out and goes into shock. Antiope is there to catch her as she does. 

Also, she looks SUPER hot while falling on a 31. Honestly, it’s a shame she doesn’t allow herself a social media presence. 

Anyway, we’ll get to what she sees in a bit. Yelle and Ant make sure she’s OK (she is, but the has to be knocked out for this or she won’t be able to handle it). 

Penny tells them what she knows about each Eidolon from her earlier research which is what element each goes with:

Chrona: Time (Related to astral and elemental planes) 

Terra: Earth

Pyrria: Fire

Nira: Water

Zefira: Air

Anima: Life

Talura: Death 

They also talk about TK never leaving via the front door and all this airship stuff being around. Maybe she left out the top of the mountain on an airship? Katja has the hookup with this Tal guy (she’s met him when she was younger) so they decide they need to check it out once Sam is good. 

The girls fix the Legendarium and Ost, when she goes to pray for her spells for the night, doesn’t pray to her usual god. She prays to Asha. And not only does she get her spells, she also gets a new one--Commune. 

And now let’s get to what Sam is seeing in her Vision Coma. 

She was told by Talura that the only way out of the mirrors given to them by the gods was death. And what Talura saw that drove her to do whatever multiverse threatening thing that she did was every one of her sisters walking out of their mirrors and choosing death. I will specifically highlight that the oldest sister leaves almost immediately with a small, “Oh,” of realization and Anima, the closest sister to her seems terrified before coming to a joyful realization and leaving.

And that’s the end of the episode! Join us next week when apparently there is talk of a masquerade ball?????? Brennan, you shouldn’t have!   

Superlatives 

Sam: Most Likely to Accidently Snag a Brand Deal

Did you guys ever read the Greek myth of Cupid and Psyche? Where Psyche was born so hot that it was basically a curse and she was miserable because she was so hot that Aphrodite hated her? That’s Sam. She is incapable of almost dying in a non-aesthetic way. It’s like a Pantene commercial every time. This is my favorite running gag.

Random Thoughts

Man, I have so many feelings about Sam. She’s such a BITCH in so many ways but it’s so obvious that she has a good heart. Every time she has an opportunity to be nice with no gain--helping Lola find her dog, magically turning the pages for the horses during book club, fully refusing a boon from Talura--she does. And I’m glad she gave Zelda such a sincere apology and didn’t let the extenuating circumstances absolve her because she said some pretty uncalled for things. But at her core she’s so kind and I want only good things for her. 

Also those of you who know me from my FH recaps know I’m a messy bitch for sister stuff so Talura and Sam both referring to the other maidens as her sister had me dead. You can tell when something in this show is f’ing me up when I just start directly quoting instead of paraphrasing. 

Katja being richer than Helio but having no idea what any of the brands Ost is mentioning are is peak comedy.  

As is Ant’s response to the take and penny leave a penny translation from Ost, “No, Penny didn’t come with us.”

Ost: I get service in the afterlife.

You could really tell which of the players watched Sophomore Year because the Baronies came up and all of them went into fight or flight immediately. 

Very Elsa vibes from Sam during the top of the scene with Talura. (Sam is, of course, a better sister but we simply do not have time to get into my feelings on Frozen 2 right now).

I was wondering why this season was called just “The Seven” when it dropped initially. Like, was it snappier? Did they not want to use the word “maiden”? But they still call themselves the Seven Maidens in the show so it’s probably not that. Now I’m wondering if it’s just to parallel the 7 of them w/ the 7 Eidolons. 

So it seems clear based on the reactions of the first and sixth sisters that they didn’t just “go gently into that good night” as Ant would say and ditch Talura. It seems like they figured something out. Also Brennan isn’t really a “and then they all died, the end” kind of DM, you know? Credit to my friend @camwritery for getting here before I did but the gods said the only way out was death and she is death so you know? Those def seem like puzzle pieces that go together. 

The only crit rolled this episode is a 1 by Penny which she gets to reroll as a halfling.