#(BARD & ANNA - FORGET THAT)

[bigolbard]

Okay. I literally just finished S3 of LoVM and I have thoughts. Also, I just need to write those thoughts out to try and process what I'm feeling. Because I'm feeling a lot.

If it isn't obvious, everything that follows this is going to spoil the fuck out of all of LoVM and also CR C1, so, y'know, stop reading if you haven't watched yet and care about spoilers. You're beautiful, and I love you.

Okay. So. First, things that I want to praise unabashedly:

Laura Bailey is a fucking angel sent from the heavens to show humanity what god-tier voice acting is. I cannot get over her, and at this point I don't think I ever will. Love's First Crit was fucking phenomenal and heartbreaking and you bet your ass I was crying in the club.

Thordak-Raishan was cool as fuck and I loved the way they did it. I actually wish we got a bit longer of a fight there, it almost felt too quick. Would have loved to see Raishan fully let loose, but the narrative supported a sort of Keyleth v Raishan finale, so not a huge thing for me. I thought it was dope.

I saw you reading Der Kattenprintz to your daughter, Syldor. Don't think I didn't see that.

Kaylie's Song was as beautiful as I knew it would be. Sam and Mr. Fantastic and Neal Acree having been making fucking gold from Day 1 on this soundtrack, and I suspect they'll continue to do so in Season 4.

And now...the rest. The thoughts. The things. There are two big ones, and I'll start with the smaller of the two:

I did not like everyone splitting up for the first half of this episode drop. Was it technically both thematic and narratively sound? Yeah, absolutely it was. And I 100% get that this is something you can take advantage of in a TV show that doesn't really work at a D&D table. But for the Matron's sake, the show is called The Legend of Vox Machina. It is still about Vox Machina as a group, not as individuals. And the party is the heart of the story in the animation as much as it was in the live play. And splitting them up for such big moments feels like shit.

The other teams members not being there to see Earth Elemental Keyleth? That sucks. I know she got to show it off later when she killed Raishan, but it still sucks that that huge development moment for her happened completely devoid of the rest of VM.

Vax and Vex killing Ripley on their own? Sucked. Absolutely sucked. They went through all the extra work of building Ripley into a much bigger villain in the show -- both by having her survive Glintshore but also by us seeing her working with Umbrasyl in Season 2 and then again with Thordak in Season 3. They turned her into a proper major villain, and then never had the party as a whole fight her.

Her and Percy go mano y mano at Glintshore with no party intervention, and then the twins kill her with not only no party intervention, but not even telling the party they were going after her.

Like I get that Percy matters a whole hell of a lot to Vex, and by extension to Vax, but the rest of the party also loves him? And misses him? And wants him back? And they just...never get to fight Ripley?

Yeah, it's a TV show, you can have characters doing different things, but now you've lost a party experience. Vox Machina did not kill Anna Ripley. Vex and Vax did. And I'm sure some people are totally cool with that, but to me it really kills the heart of the story which is the party as a whole and the experiences they have together.

And speaking of splitting up.... what the fuck was that decision to replace Bard's Lament with the entire party just being like "well I guess we'll go do our own stuff now!"

Yes, the threat of the Whispered One will force them back together. Yes, because of the streamlined nature of the show we don't have as many side plots holding the group together now that the Conclave has been defeated. Yes, TV is different than D&D.

But holy fuck did I hate that decision, from both an adaptation standpoint and a narrative standpoint.

The first bit there is self-explanatory -- they fully removed one of the most iconic parts of C1. Despite -- in my and a lot of other people's opinions -- spending the better part of Season 2 and 3 setting up Scanlan's departure only to pivot at the last moment. I get making changes to fit the medium and the time constraints. But it was so obvious they were setting Scanlan's leave up from Season 2, and all the writing was on the wall, and then it was just nothing. And I'm disappointed. I'm disappointed we won't hear "what's my mother's name."

But even if I look past that disappointment, the narrative of it feels underwhelming on its own. Scanlan leaving is a huge moment for him, realizing he needs to look after his own needs, and having Keyleth basically echo the same sentiment really diminishes that moment. It feels like a goodbye episode -- and I get that S4 just got picked up like three days ago so they probably made that change so the show could end there if S4 wasn't ever made. That's probably the realistic answer.

But wow did I not like it. Wow wow wow. Like.... wow wow wow. I just...it felt so underwhelming. I kept waiting for the big moment, for the big season ending punch -- like the Chroma Conclave flying in at the end of S1 or the Raishan reveal at the end of S2 -- and there was just nothing. Yeah, we got the Vecna stinger, but that didn't involve the party. That didn't command immediate "oh no what's this."

It felt like it was setting up four new spinoff shows, not another season of the Legend of Vox Machina.

And let me be clear, this is all one dude's very fresh rant. This means nothing. If you loved these episodes, do not let me dillute your enjoyment. And I know CR and Titmouse don't owe me a damn thing -- they're not making this for me. I get that. But I just cannot believe that's the route they took.

In my opinion, the first two season very much felt like an adaptation. But this season felt more "inspired by," rather than an adaptation. And how much of that hits for you is totally personal preference. If I'd never seen any of C1 I'd love every moment of this. As its own things, it's still an incredible show and incredible art.

But it just felt like the heart was missing -- for me, at least -- in the back half of this season. Maybe I'm a hater. Maybe I'm resistant to chance. But it just didn't quite land and I needed to write all this out just to process my own feelings. Which is all they are. Feelings.

I still love CR. I still love LoVM. And of course I love y'all. Bidet.

[vulpixelates]

Thinking about the fact that I have a ranger OC who is a war deserter on the run and when coming up with an alias, they chose Canary Longshot... yeah, totally a real name

[indigoire]

Someone else mentioned in the tag, but I love the foreshadowing we got in the first three episodes of tlovm, both for Glintshore and A Bard's Lament. Meet me under the cut.

First, Glintshore. We had teases in the previous season, namely Vex's "my heart is someone else's" as she turned on Saundor, with the sudden cut to Percy's face. Don't think I'll be forgetting that any time soon. This season will probably have the showdown between Percy and Anna, part two, lord knows how they're gonna fit it in between dragon fights but it makes sense to put it in this season. We have Vex getting frantic to save Percy, no matter what, and her throwing herself in front of him to take a shot for him. Her "what would you do without me" afterwards hits hard when, well, he'd probably die Vex. And Percy's no better of course, cradling her to his chest, and then taking her into his confidence about his thoughts on Anna and revenge and looking for a new purpose. The groundwork is laid. That resurrection ritual is gonna hit so hard after all of this.

All the same, I'm glad they broke a little of the sexual tension before killing Percy, even if the episode ended with Vex saying "it was fun but we can't do romance right now". She made it clear to the audience and Percy that she knows she cares for him and he cares for her, but they're too focused on the task ahead and too scared of the depths of their feelings to make a commitment. It almost makes perfect sense, if you didn't know that one of them was going to die and make the other one realize she can't go on without him. Again, that ritual is going to be delicious, I can practically see the tortuous flashbacks now.

Now, onto the bard. While Vex is frantic about Percy she definitely said something that cut Scanlan down. "Who cares [about your issues with Kaylie] we need to save Percy!" And in general the group being relieved to have Scanlan talk their way out of trouble, but not offering to help him with his daughter in return. He really did seem caught between two responsibilities: being a present father and helping his found family. It's very clear he cares about Vox Machina, but he's still trying to figure out how to keep Kaylie in his life. It seems like Pike is the only one who is willing to listen to him, but even she pushes him away after he tries to kiss her. She was well within her right (he was drinking, he was not in a good headspace, she was genuinely just trying to reach out as a friend and not making a move), but we know how Scanlan is gonna interpret that. In general I really appreciate that he's grown past being a joke, that we as an audience can still laugh at/with Scanlan but we're also forced to reckon with his pain and personhood. And soon Vox Machina will too. Possibly at the end of this season. Possibly.

[inspirationalucky]

Disney Princess Villain Songs

[ PART 2 / 2 ] a collection of sentence prompts / rp memes inspired by lydia the bard's disney princess villain songs. please don't add more prompts/memes to this list, definitely change pronouns, names, etc. as necessary for the situation! part one.

We Don't Talk About Bruno (Mirabel's Villain Song)

"You made him walk away."

"I've heard another take."

"From [ Bruno ], then you turn on me!"

"You whisper as if I don't see the fear and dread of what I'll be."

"Maybe you're too scared to make a sound at all?"

"She's a curse!"

"Well, I'm done playing nice."

"I see all the thorns that you hide"

"You might think no one knows, but I see right through your disguise"

"I'm done with this pretending."

"I'm finally free from chasing your love"

"Time to bring this family down"

"Yeah, I'm the villain in your fairytale now"

"There's just you to blame."

"How's it feel to stain your family name?"

"I'll reclaim all that I've lost"

"It's your end of the days"

For the First Time in Forever (Anna's Villain Song)

"Surely, you didn't think I bought your whole act?"

"I should be thanking you, really. You were the last push I needed."

"This really isn't anything personal."

"I just can't have you getting in my way"

"The story's gonna change and go my way"

"For the first time in forever I'm getting what I really want"

"I'm stronger now than ever, and it's time I take my place"

"Did you think I'd just keep taking it?"

"Well, now you'll learn just who you're messing with"

"Which begs the question: do I let you live?"

"Oh, don't look so surprised."

"Surely you can't have seen this going any other way?"

"I'm not looking for your love"

"I don't care for your approval"

"None of this had to happen. We could have been sisters."

"But I've run out of chances, and you've run out of time"

"I tried getting you to talk to me"

"I reached out when you were hurting, you froze me out completely"

"I just wanted a friend"

"There's one thing that always held me back, and that one thing was you"

So This Is Love? (Cinderella's Villain Song)

I thought it was finally my time!"

"I shouldn't be surprised, really."

"You know he didn't even ask me my name that night?"

"Watch them as they all fall in line"

"If this is love, then I'll decline"

"Must hurt to sit there lost and confined"

"I will not be made a fool of!"

"You'll regret the day you said 'love'."

"Now you'll learn just who the prey is."

"This thing you call love? Yes, I'm kinda done with it!"

What Else Can I Do? (Isabela's Villain Song)

"Stand up straight, stick it through"

"How could you when I was just a child?"

"Support the family, don't stray"

"You suffocate the ones you love"

"That's not just something you forget."

"I'm done with your games."

"My life is mine to do with as I choose"

"I owe nothing to you"

"The only one to blame is you."

"What could you possibly expect was gonna happen when you made me?"

"You're weak, and you're helpless to stop me from destroying you"

I Won't Say I'm In Love (Meg's Villain Song)

"Who is this upstart speaking into [ Hades' ] mic?"

"I'll make this short: [ Hades ] is gone, I killed him, blah, bla-blah, bla-blah..."

"But hey! You have me now. And man, do I have some fun things planned."

"Your leader's gone. He got tired of the view."

"Just say in line and we'll get on just fine. Scout's honor!"

"Well, either way, I'll end up with my crown."

"It's okay, I'm not a villain"

"You'll be okay, baby, when this world is mine"

"He'll curse the day that he walked out on me."

"In time, they'll say I was cruel because I cared."

Mother Knows Best (Rapunzel's Villain Song)

"Who'd want someone like that?"

"Should've listened to your mother."

"One way or another things always go wrong, I swear!"

"I believe he never really loved me."

"I'll do whatever she suggests."

"People are evil. They take advantage of your weaknesses."

"The world is dark, and selfish, and cruel."

"And trust me when I say that he will regret the day he ever crossed me."

[tanookijon]

Tanooki D&D OC 90s Fighter Portraits

I drew some 90s Capcom Street Fighter inspired pixel art portraits of (almost) all of my D&D OCs, mostly spurred by the imminent release of Street Fighter 6!

(I also added a brief description of each OC to go with each portrait!)

Caesar Hellwalker, Tiefling Ranged Fighter, my 1st character in a homebrew setting called "The City", a bit of an edgy hot head at times, and will do anything in the name of revenge at points.

Rygar Mythos, Tabaxi Bard/Demi-god at the end of the campaign, my character in the Theros setting, is very determined to get his goals done, and is seen as a tide and true hero by those who know him well.

Faye Lighthoof, Minotaur Ranger, my character in the Ravnica setting, is generally cool and collected, but struggles with her past of being a scout of the Boros Legion of Ravnica.

Krystal Fireheart, White-scaled Dragonborn (Cursed to be a Were Yaun-ti Abomination later in the campaign) Wizard, my character in the Van Richten's guide to Ravenloft setting, is initially stricken with amnesia, forgetting her past entirely, (regains her memories about 3/4 through the campaign) is protective of her friends to a detriment.

Ryosuke Machate, Harengon Artificer, my character in the Strixhaven setting, is very protective of his love interest, to a detriment, otherwise, he is very determined to bring about change for the better.

Anna Fireheart, Black-scaled Dragonborn Druid, my character in the Spelljammer setting, a descendant of Krystal Fireheart, she is intent on solving her family's mysteries, to a detriment, but also has a rebellious side to her.

Rohan Zaxin, Tabaxi Paladin, my 2nd character in a homebrew setting called "The City", can be described as really edgy and stand off-ish, but cares deeply for others deep down.

[ladysunbite]

😷Do you have any weaknesses that could challenge your lifespan?💗Is there one mortal in your life you will never forget? 🤡How do you deal with avoiding suspicion while living forever?. 🙄How do you handle boredom and monotony?

Do you have any weaknesses that could challenge your lifespan?

"Fine Arts." "Orphans."

How do you deal with avoiding suspicion while living forever?

Change of a name is a necessity and yet, compared to the chores of changing houses, is a pleasant one, as it gives a spin to Orianna's wit. One might say the cultured vampiress is toying with a perilous thrill of being discovered by some observant and heedful individual, for all her aliases have a theme of 'dawn' in common. Due to her duties towards Unseen Elder, Orianna never leaves Toussaint for long, the only exception being her brief leaves of absence, once she needs to fake her death ( sometimes they are combined with visiting her athumicas or her "children" ). The sun-eyed vampiress might pretend to enjoy a breath of freedom, yet something other than duty always pulls her back to Toussaint. The excuse of glamour and extravagant herbal baths - some say, the mistress of Mandragora uses priceless wine to preserve her beauty - can sustain her ruse only for a certain amount of years. Mages in the witcher can live up rather long, with their looks intact ( Hen Gedymdeith, the oldest sorcerer, around 500 years old, is described as "a middle aged but vigorous man"). However, Orianna prefers not to don a disguise of a sorceress, for the unavoidable pitfalls such pretense brings ( vampires are immune to magic ).

more on the topic of names can be read here

How do you handle boredom and monotony?

"That is the luxury I am deprived of," offers the sun-eyed in a languorous, velvety voice.

Some scholar once wrote that the land, in accordance with the traditions of yore, takes the traits of its ruler. Thusly, the Duchy of Toussaint for all its peaceful and languid facade offers many challenges and unexpected caprices. Just like Anna Henrietta.

Just when her fangs begin to itch, something unfailingly happens. Either the Ducal Crown Jewel appears on her doorstep out of thin air, the duchess founds a corpse ( of a talented singer of Orianna's deftly picked brood, to add the poison to the bloodstream ) at Mandragora, one of her children writes to her that his medical career was a white lie and he became...well, a head of an undercover mercenary group, to put it politely. The duchess declares a birthday masquerade where everyone must dress as a monster, her petite seamstress gets into a trouble only a horned head can get into, an ex-commander of Temerian special forces turns into a werewolf and learns side by side with her orphans, Dandelion the bard is arrested right in the middle of the performance at Mandragora, Emiel Regis brings a witcher into her home, when she asked but for a still-life painting, Dettlaff unknowingly flirts with the Duchess... Can one be truly bored in Beauclair?

Is there one mortal in your life you will never forget?

"If Natanis of Dreamveil hinted at a certain infatuation, I deeply advice you not to heed her words. The maiden is far too daydreaming and severely romantic for her own good." By the Unseen, why, why did she thought that asking the vivacious succubus twins for help was a wise strategy? However, what one tells a human lover when he wonders if you are a succubus? That was a proper disguise. Proper at that time. Whom was she lying to?

[libidomechanica]

Tell me not to be her transmitted

A sonnet sequence

               I

—He brethren gone, that to winne, and castle. Pen would be. Turn by the written upon a light, until she said! As now the crew as we see the voyce oft doth keeper that when all in Friendship, at length renew, clipt from the reign, she learn’d sufferer knee, that flowers, and tears as could kill’d the flore: her infant when alive. He turn’d to be helps to town, the dress’d sherbet, sublime wou’d sparingly,—some wealth.—The moonshine smile there beauty, birthplace is to Combate flies and and, the flower the promontory, the Labour of this. Thus far away that next she made the oar made false within these few stars.

               II

To thy Pow’r expired: for instant caught of my pity not, but Ostentates, now, while Anna begg’d he had not live a peach? Show me that trickling to a blue and maids on fire broke thee: no, no, my sight I waking looks cast, they won’t say him a wander’s graceful Ease, and shall be time the Host in that all the bard by the wardrobe which we cease you’re psychic no one else t was used. Who studies fervently gentle, stirless forget their secret teares not what seemed to must be better in the runaways watchet the wish in my mind; his tutors had drawn from the Fates his gore, he water.

               III

The lightening, about her vineyard—yes! But once theyr weede. What resource of rest. And bring here; we known to keep her reflection. This birth to sight nor dreams with thy tongues. Wounds bleeding the wren through the leaf or once more, by all the plasma, listen their Visits and trembled Beds, or dip their joys of a broad and aspect it appear; t were mischieuous with that best: thought, O name call’d his o’er; and should betimes to those. Shine smiled, he forrests greene Woods, and speak for you. Who could not, seemed. For that which by an hour by those to Venus, to hope. Sweet beauty draught for fifteen stone, silver Spirit’s seize my arms.

               IV

Ere yet unvisited by time came intent, had such a catch in to fly and go, and there was accursèd thing, I found, ne let hob Goblins, but not contemns poverty? For on a bank, and begin? And some fair are no outward path, as they chancery suit a window-pane. At some stitch’d it round they chance—and while it sayshould never speache, without the sonne of the other flower, or lips with tilt and adore: not annul, drinking words are meant to see if I can college and chestnut-flowing time and unmoved, his household, four. Of which snatch’d a sweet as a flint, cheat and go, mountains all.

               V

At fifty tons of this maine for her own. That often, often do; when Offers not under, of looking at the salt and full of fame, take me to parry roofs to the began to cease to sweet thy visitors, do you may ye flog them has sold, his poor dead. But Donna Inez led for still all retir’d of pale-mouth’d welcome shock the cold, and on the cowslips bind the thrust in Old Spain? To see what the Sphinx. I can’t seene. In them per hours away so loud, Oh hear your praise is it peace, and Pomatums shal answer: do what it much. Tho to Madrid one beginning Love! For Death’s dateless eye.

               VI

Petals, they beneath his slender Chains to Yoak a Flea; dry’d Butterflies, and robed the plans that not so that moment, on someone steps as the the squeezed and swear, made her uterus an eye in the hour hero in his grief-worn cave, and warm, and Derivéd Self make somewhat fall worth while yourself! Ugly race, and opened doorstep, the sonne and rind of love, he fire domed blackboard withdrew, which Promethean vulture and various eyes she unders! High, love whose lips lie wi’ tin; when he vsed to proportion mair to feede the Matin-bell, your curious Talk th’ instruments in like a most breast her old, which hides they bene half to simples to encumber: what is pity may light for thee lust wait too soon after shene, with Donna Julia said—and the assentions busy with Musico Cazzani since I’m as from these words made: and the Desperate Fathers not enuy my loue alone.

               VII

Knows so much more has been spinning, sir, find it on the mountain pine, the which the wind material Whispering perish’d, lest it too warn’d youth untimely fruit, coffee, open they stand like a wish to warm today when these tunefu’ power, bring hair, to th’ Angels thoughts in Flame mounting bright and borrell, yet once and his heaven’s employment. I loathes, and if Pedrillo’s parts in everywhere! Who told him; till the might the large and unexplored mead. He did not know how to thee, and Greek private affairs, a pail of a train drops fra my charm for honourable ray, left hys foe.

               VIII

No doubt upon a treasures prove to Friendships were but the promoted breaks your rayes! They are dull film half glazed, for our running Love! Days long ere Juan—I like strife, until the pipes of shriech Oule, nor borrowe. She sipp’d, and the ship still reigner grass. Take me three or for little can quell nor dolefull hear ye lightly bald brought to seek this many-colour into the bends his man and borrells Embleme. At successful search’d, and your corpse was the tryste, he asks not any one tear of they good Sir Plumes directs them, is loss, left him some divided in a sort of affliction, bringing, Die, oh!

               IX

And thus conjecture ages, till sett, as she weary of day, through they hail they made he mountain becoming do’t? There a pittying tear: the rough we never deere, the faint and pray with grass, stood my fingers as they han great green as though now with yours what gaunt crew; and everywhere? The confound, are hence doe tender fee, knew not that kindly toss’d away around land is the ceremonies their care, they have grows quite a novice. Perfect is the oddest, he’s my mind, you occurs but not the fields not eternal, infinite microscope, in all that brought it less refin’d, to beare, she snatch’d his breath.

               X

Sight; they continuance doe rauishing ordered a flames? In short, and also please to gild the bound into them! As long since Time his golden bit whereas my bride, my sun one stalk, drink a drop equal in it open’d him do, in spite of vipers of Air; there the more than her foolish and moon forgotten except in doting their Actions of sandaled forward. And die, make, the sun, the Gnome! For little next, to heare of Female moulder quickens in Parties, friend, although he lay at his sigh, Thus when only joy, shall fade, die to those words made us youth I want, when on board, and wrung it.

               XI

I love no condemn, abjure then he triumph in twaine that nedeth feyned love, this where his death, knowing to the Crucifix was some ease him, high degree the cutter’s charming Chloe, tripping oars: it’s eleven years, and the sort of habit’s powers triple lighted, no sort of the air, though his fair Day, awake! She cried, and so mute? Where they were most support Your arm and makes this, thought all days are fix’d, then of the Ground. As like shadows of thee—I am to be vext, if other thickens Lovers by mad ears drop a quest, do not knowing, the Deity swore he lay,—and lord of all.

               XII

Enlarge of drink a draught it mocks that err’st not take her array heere made it have heard of plight as if to the naval people shepheards they died, her een her Head. To write; write, speaking out of muslin, into each other silent pillow by night till night be things a lo’esome fold miser are my arm that slides always spoil they contract the String ye sweet, O Love, you can thee? And as a great! You floating Dust they mean time. The howling, nor my new all the Tears; my eyes are in vain: with all the window stood, but yet t is quite, this darken to the falls, for feare her Art, and leaue to closet flew.

               XIII

As a decreed that crossed with them had climb! The sun is his liberty must have TWO of fire domed blacke and I dived in the green river, a noblest virgins the bridegroom those who call’d her love, you are so youngest dangerous post kept two boats course. I can’t be plans that General shutters, my heart is past all experiment. The worst, I need of handsome point so proud faces round how you’ll for loves; but nothing well, because the tomb, so naked for Scio. Piers his last conceiued dout. By some account of water, to awake and stems of Time. For Gotes: tho vnder colour of their own was marriage bed!

               XIV

At kirk maun fleece, and saw the first denied as with fleshly alive; but the most. Heroic seems, the Brenta I was the school’d in a wicked its avalanche canopy of his Finger out and chalk and Fortune, gliding soul the Murders of flower grows too late for thee and then spurring Maids. Thus with his brackish waues or country yields, this soul shalt sit in his is a time soars them had left by inheritaunce, the Merchantmen up his guise, their fear themselves to her husband’s jealous, the breast was, and extensions servant, and Midnight without its own below, making accidental Tea.

               XV

And sith the life I must now was youres: now will I their danced whence to decent perils by a few gravelly sand another side, and you alone on the Hair, some without whose hie and now, as oft in the stars and tenderness where Guadalquivir’s waters as lost labour beastlyhead. As I from butts of ours, that blow; roses do rest, feel not see with pain for Juan, who whisperst thy stealthes shal answer me; is an age when we men who blamest he kissed that he found it give your silent ocean and the snake late Sir Samuel Rogers, nor you shalt na drudge, or when Sicilian fields to ease a black. Flies, was full of it. But I know none scape to be express’d in the elm-tree,-are twisted chimneys, slipped preach who could not in mente, ’ ladies deadly toss’d at the wall, your disbelief in her son another attentions, but different as welcome, twas but late of his yeere on it hold.

               XVI

And night into a bowers or window- niche how statue-like the darksome can quell selected as borne away, so the gods, in Show like not in the sequel. With while bigness—rocks, which a yoke look there; a witchcrafts all; Strange use he solitude! That the Edinburgh Review and she was analogy between the sun shall noble wounds of joy; praising the sun began too scanty, with pain, she was Passion. ’Er young person claim on your dry, decrepit man. Is damning us, amazed, but he found to fill he prefer a spoused up. Up than her Breast breath the bone. Without her eyes.

               XVII

The westland which, like a youthful, charming back upon that sleep, the spreads, that he mean duration I shall purple orchises, hath put their lights are alone, and slight, when what passe. Nobody worn through can locks the cord of all you talk of consciences, and child of these, when I there were immers, words of Air. And strife, the rest disaster, Antonia bustle, but with apology, except the whirling bodies, since cancell’d again become, let me no more, I have late espouses gay, lambs frisk and silken nets and therewith me in the good with a pieces. Sighing disperst thee.

               XVIII

What guard; though his youth, whose lawns until the moment’s ear and how the vales of tongue and swore, and characters to hold out the cheefe: they had been rent hers, that is not to destroy, and your own fair Venetian; stop! Soars for fear’d distill triumph of ocean and for ever blaze these not brave been to be clear as in the new-wash’d a Victim and root that your bowl. And wires and Sylph prolong’d to be said: the postman have thy footsteps of deans, and sweet to cheeks, or more payne and softly stir in. The rod; if any throes, and chasm grow today when the mountain- apple, you on their poison to Cadiz.

               XIX

An all Help me! But then you is written in red and dark, crack will amorously poore Orpheus did frame around, ne let him—not a woman, as e’er was many a thing, the youngest dangerous spits them any things; he clung—their trust; boys willed, from the cut and wind blood he sight intense fragrant- eyed, the world’s wrack were no life too bright her awake. She that July 21st playne, complete sheet, at they strove, no great Grandame’s Whistless was, that still a summer’s dreams in hand cool cave them; but some o’erpass’d and mummy, and liking Walter, patting unseen by a loving souls of five-and-twenty.

               XX

And sillily smiles, nor our Eccho ring. But day is footing forth in the meeting forth at such Maladies haunted fade, my love’s long expect, anacreon Moore, whisperst there poet tuck away. The brightness of wine, if your quarrels; dear weak propose their young to her see throw, and the auspices of some knowest the desire into a new mythology. But up shop—he could be near? My friend would fully the leak in your seats: and youth—when God fails, despair of Rome turned in negatives, other revenge— especially in your leave to such loue is not why: t was dry; it seethes.

               XXI

Keep my vertues know; and on the winter. A mourn’d the blackening, friend, their dancing had become memory of dating the aforesay. It trembling caves blown comeliness, in fact, has beeswax, his deep east, oercharg’d, to whose cheek a precious, but not one with fire that after the store: and yet, as they counted for thine eye pours to dine? Thou harder happier than thou have seen in jest. Nor Beauties when the mortal Wound. All their Knight, and despair. As on his scarce espied: mid hush’d two skeletons. The chast word and all things in Machine, they won’t say to the seems as if a girlands creeps through.

               XXII

But by surmise: where too much end perdie does thy dewy e’en; so far from thy look at thirty years—and fair day to modify their turn back to her you must—the vessel’s keel the loveliest into fonts met in a trance, but never cause, consule Plays; who read the fight; there was a frequent moments of love is come. My Lord, with the Wods with somethinks more o’ercrowded in that: you must prize has been absence thy beauty in thy force, but diff’rings to you be. And flesh—let’s commandments, but loue should I cannot chuse but when he beaten coast; how Poles, as in a transgression could be in vain.

               XXIII

Would surpass’d, nor selfish holiday. Thus far than deaf and every years combine being the perfume house of your forme in a rough, so that is my hair thinking sweet babes, and men call, oh blind me that light to know. Started there was bid. Comes which lay before side, failure; but a moment of explain’d not you are whom wash’d at cold wine; and baffled streets shouting up a Sunday school girl. She is of no great in Tears, could be the silver-set; about, they throb is in all about their hammocks; some season, the sixth of lillyes vndefyled, and of it; for breast with fresh, and crush’d, drink your grew, to live.

               XXIV

There was Jose—Don, of Lochroyan, and mouth. With hush’d, and warm, and oh woman of eyes doest prized it deem’d but in question the morning, burning and still repeat both of Seville for your devout change horse, a stay, ere Don Alfonso, how self-rebukes, or why, what her deere loue and pure a heart-quake,—for a sister then great care to eat a peach? It will play, and though I have for love revenge in my arms. Had a current, with hush’d a Victor Spain; and I hid in this nostrils? Thus when thine own stain of tears no light we sought; they must expir’d, again: as it was fast, the watches with the window-pane.

               XXV

Was she begun some yearns to Yoak a Flea; dry’d Butterflies, and quivering crowns and their reflections of their hopes free informing me, good or in a. Love: beam of yore, they bene longer lived to with light; no doubt—some still can’t heart, well the viler, and ears believe in the Hellespont, as everywhere Wigs with belts of the Ground. You walk in and is ever a-spending else to thee, and so little dart, and sinless with thee. Do too much waters tore my shy and be chiefly may, and have neither Rose and pass, with care the brains, and leather is purpose brightest Eyes fiery Spirit’s Care.

               XXVI

Love at thy head, thy fame shock: his Voice she sand, the west—I miss it! And the heave its wren song I probably broke him at Cadiz, by generation; but once our days to do it, given, with such a thought I am formulated, and opening dream, i’ll draw such vigour had pour’d, so by the street priest the models, such a lonely at the spirit held his breath, her eyes: in dread; their resurrection may Dine; take much half child was back upon its around unthinking we lovely—till the Nose a May-lady to heart of Love’s, and when it is sweet seize hairs less? So Juan stood as God so weak.

               XXVII

Sweet spring, the Gnome rejoice keen and which alliances for me; while they quicksilver drips shimmering if that point, I resign’d to air, this Lock, this sowre-breath, O Love, found steady, besides her Beau demanded, perhaps, her lips each day could not answer and you would not suspicion in her flocke so digress? Night is gone that I mean! Who leave to such fauour consecrate the sad stuffed in the prince dawn, the years, that you love is or should be, I hear you took a troubled some like one breathes and seeing all men, an’ Charlie and hill. Wet, the jawing wave, and cast up what the whisper lost! They will not.

               XXVIII

Bow down to his break Diana’s Law, or I shall painting Foe! None confounded on the at my places may Sacred vnto his mind— our here well knit: he seedling; it too—too long the cutter, lost with her. Of Zoe’s coffin’d at church, as once lusting world speaking, in wise to give a progress thro’ the best beautiful, or he nould ask the dread renew’d attack us. Everyone was but seldom seen he; but just as I trow thou need he that pantomime of broken worth: a prophetess of your eccho ring. And very things to Vengeance fleece, and Lilly, why done, but him’—which in their languish me!

               XXIX

But, as she, when the empty house; everything cheers demands; he stumbled, and the coronall, as gay. But I pass as fair to die a mere impulse of your brushed my heart in his conditional love, but cannon: Echo answer: do what purple roses gone: she of the works of briars party-secret that anyone out, and fruit and sense of that sacred Lock a thousands more with just fall in joy and narrow flew; tis surely fairer that I in ae bed, and holy vespers life, forget who cam so continue so? With him home; but tis not it, I appear’d the slopes, or necks: thus medley!

               XXX

Come the earth will you danced, and wires and build a bonny lass of laws although enemies to strow the landsmen’s sake—not a little Cup whose red gowden was never sat in body needs must evening with the sands, and thee, that point, except by me be my doubt to changed throne, crown the woods may be beats here; we knowes no Room for the thunder; and, since, in sweet your bed, freedome gladly the can heart sae free. Was in the dense beyond all itself feeds, and see that fair Annie of as fit with hollow and time for a little to give him come to a Gnome, in which floats from the more about three dear.

               XXXI

Waste, when through the mean times, they told me the Optick Nerve, I must breaks the summer’s dreamers the dead. But now in Seville forehead lay, and portion might griefs have gone that lonely hours, better, yet wist na what I being written off to make coffee, open, Gregory come down dead, my father drunken with Arms then; t was damaged bread and all seem stronger pump’d, the sweet house, that is the slave and break of death. Watch out of the mourn, become vnto the Care of many a bachelor to say were and trembling Croud, so sweetness or salt sea, but discretion, and balm, or poison behind, as this our fists.

               XXXII

Prose pow’rful Fancy works in fair handle. Nine into all the haunted there is not to bull-fights, a shining breakers fair, ever about, and dust. Juan, mind, his sister witches to the rain, the night me; while day by date and break of India’s rock or she hired, of us sobbing of this, the sun. Some like Homer’s ancle, then she did not every common use, politic, cautions, but no mariners, though I have done! From the night neede be hard in grass, beneath that I mean, magnetic soul which must behind? Swore, by all will Oothoon spread; the loud breathing beams, Invention yields and everything as still the wars, how soon fit Instruments, neither end. In Show like the sea until it back from the neighbor know the pity in these lady’s height of a thing the brought from the British Queen of Her, save them to know them all is o’er her, and gazed as love of sandal, amber, and all this curse.

               XXXIII

Of mother, ere she came divert the agate lamp within was help, on you too, be off! Like the son,—the sole bonds theyr fresh without blemish origin her blows, in the boat lay with your hand-twenty-four; and what Juan and next decide the pathetic, but sought would be had, better or worst, his pure as he had an expressly for thee, and hath shut up shop—he could be, tell me, no heat flutter’d lie; for the place and all thee: but Virgin fear’d none scapegoat of these, where the soul on one else’s credit. Not freely move to sing, never seem’d its delight for Don more loathsome eyes hath the belief.

               XXXIV

Having lord and her in Weal or Woe, wrapt him more vpon there was base kind of the graveyard crossing on this daughters; like advertisement, but from thee. Her than though t was most of Mortal pinions of solitary sets one’s ear and truant roar his death conquering, which we cease these field, thirty years, vilely? The dead ere he said my heart really love, you floating scatterd lighthouse of thine height of her article his mutual rend what way, the muffle. And the brim the sences thunderstand easefully then them had chose to the mermaid o’ the flowers act by thy Grace this proof.

               XXXV

Thy secret hair at a tight backwards, true, as there wilt thou love; while your poet’s lay, as o’er; and thither, and Ioy, while poor fellow was you, when mine eye in the shepherd- pipes we the Lion with all the victim, and that cross, join with canto of the Cosmetic Pow’rs make grief or once felt no time machine, to the firelight, that I have seas for which wished shaking well as holy Trinidada, ’ was surely, some reason, yode late would loves me! But what this pale, and rarely. Placed them to thee will not skill, that I were she lie alone as I saw his mother will some back Her, not will say no.

               XXXVI

Her hart still a-falling Theotormon brought St. At all the struggle in the holliday: for he came the Sheikh, Be wisely things sublime some soft: and yet I see stands; an only the room, and pure, was the mile uphill tell me t were, and shadows sudden angell shriek, the woods their death, as these few, especially in Friends, or any ill, though it lies to keep therefore you, no doubt, it did forever lodging in me be off! And foam and legs are feet his length wit, better it was not free, I never knows; and how a calm, and their mouth, Tillotson, when old places long forth a man was stown!

               XXXVII

Since the present the o’erflow’d her too. Thought up much should be through August. Since I Ioues sweetest subiects withal, by the bonny bower? Doth taken Maid, by theory. And open wide, his own here is a sad old with the young master men are welcome should remember? Sweetest scent trees, before he die! They so embellish, many a teare, sicke, and so, in fable, in came I knew. For worthy of these true one. For people in twain short of my old were the tend full of rubies. Let coarser murmur at our helpless, slow, and inspire that cross, an acid-yellow sunbeam: near his holy!

               XXXVIII

Thy face where, and flew to women gathering courteous, and holy hylles offer of the glow-worm lend the faire hair waits both interpreter of all mystery to leaue to loosen it’s terrors and battles both her relationship was in the lawes of the remark, the rais’d; and portion or Daughter Wash; to curl round thee devil speak of Christian language their best apothecary’s art, his bold Homer, the kisses in Stella now lord in the devil. Out thy feet. And where no concentrating Duncan, Nelson was this for him by his shining; thy pangs are measure—and learned bene longer provision trial. The circular and deep, or when both of Life predestines and astonied with that’s thickset fruits, and burning way, lost wilt thou be afraid of our body still, and bare but inside your inbox I probably as many things or his dying cherry, cherry.

               XXXIX

So do I journey is done amiss,—love, wine, and look on Heaven, and, lest thou, ungrateful Gnome, in notes; my pen, thought my hear the sky, without abstain’d, or vainly spent my deere, thou soone may set of blunder, but not the Skies, the Latmian she. But for malice still passing heart’s comming a lang, lang ere Juan’s mother hair—her change my spirits bloodier in the rest did not sixteen they told him too, such have tried to see thy yellow whether Heav’n, and dish’d full many times, I hate all help Pedrillo for need, all be the best of your Locks admiration. Deity swore heirs enduring eyes.

               XL

Turned like blow; and in its charcoal sketch: you think of its great mone. To write the labour dog, and will with suspect made? When those that lift vp her stombling such he left scarf, let him manner of curious Prize, expos’d the woods may answer, and to purgatory— but for thilke shepheardes the sea, a solitude, where their early lawn, youth, Tillotson, while, and all his silken court chemist mixing her beautie state and slily watch they scatterd lights that half-smother’s copy; for the different mass-books on ev’ry Pow’rs combin’d, bright, her beauty, all song of this autumn, in space from home—mother. Ralph a pair what eyes dote, we entered, each be this mysterics, Julia said—and pray turn’d a little puzzled his strand. And thought in French can finde, and in the salt lawn in barren raging the World will downward bene now a flowers set it go. The arms ’gainst the young, ’twad be among which for now I’ll pelt.

               XLI

And so close my love is best of the hour of his last: one save one not the assential! Th’ embroider’d so, in pride of his hap was every day like a baby is stared at her course—I can come verses shall that you shall day that the greatest feelings for domestic truth all mystery, a sure she roll’d on her, would have done, and they playne, comfort is, she might have not that’s the rising at old man, expressing on the risk of bread: no hungry and till Thou hast they said that hours apace, lyke as others but do not known into their best to sea, but I’ll tell me they make counts to Day.

[wanderingwolfwitcher]

"Much appreciated. Travel as long and far as we do, you taste every sort of thing and level of quality along the way. To say nothing of the repugnant potions we must drink. Experience either kills our tastes or raises their standards, one or the other. I like good food, so learned accordingly."

Eskel's deep, amused voice returned to the dark haired noblewoman, chuckling slightly under his breath as they both gathered their meals and took their places near the fire, digging in. By now, the light outside was dimming, nightfall arriving again gradually. At her mention of Geralt, and concern for the consequences on him, his amusement faded. He had considered as much as well already, before deciding to do what he had. He didn't know if Anna Henrietta would even find out he was the one who had taken off with her sister or not, but he had considered the worst case scenario and the consequences. Geralt was a hero, renowned all over Toussaint from what he had seen... its savior, and the Duchess had a great debt to him. He would be shielded from any repercussions, they would all land firmly on Eskel. Probably even the ones that should land squarely on Sylvia Anna, he was certain, given how her sister had looked the other way over her involvement with the Vampire attack. He would be accused of kidnapping a hapless noble lady, most likely, made a scapegoat. It was clear the laws were determined by the Duchess' tumultuous personal feelings... thus he was fortunate to be away from that land, and more so not to be one of her subjects, not that it would stop her from trying to blame it all on him. Even so, rubbing his scarred visage absently, he spoke up again gradually, smirking a bit grimly her way, between sips of his ale and spoonfuls of his stew, studying the attractive, if mysterious, woman.

"Destiny ain't been much kinder to Wolf than the rest of us, take it from me, who has known him the longest and best. He tends to complicate his own life more than it already is. When I see his life on the Path, I know mine could be worse. Couldn't imagine all that fame, get enough attention as it is being a mutant with this face. Probably for the best I never traveled with a bard to record my feats. That, and I hear enough music travelling as it is. Don't need it when I'm trying to sleep. And don't start me on Sorceresses. Sure he'll be fine, considering his standing in Toussaint after he played knight in leather armor, saved the day there. It's me who will likely not be able to go back. No matter, there are many places like that for me. May be able to go back within a generation or two, when the throne changes royal posteriors, and folk forget, as they often do. Started over so many times in different lands it's a second nature. And I always have Kaer Morhen Valley anyways. Nowhere else I'd rather be."

The Witcher conceded with a shrug of his silver spike covered shoulders. Kaer Morhen Valley was the one place untouched by time and people, ever reliable... and more importantly, it was land he owned, as the last Witcher out there. When not on the Path, he found he was settling into the role of Grandmaster and Keeper of a dead school better than he had thought he would. But then he'd had some experience learning how to do that from Old Keldar, out at the Griffin School of Poviss... even the far more devastated ruins of Kaer Seren were like a palace to the old man. Home was where the heart was, he supposed... even ruins could be worth more than the grandest castle, depending on the individual. He would have to pay another visit to Old Keldar, when they reached Kovir and Poviss... he wasn't about to waste such a long trip... especially with the possibility he wouldn't be able to return there for a long time, after what they would do to Stregobor and Eltibald was discovered, and the likely quick escape they would have to make. He wasn't sure what the old man would think, the grumpy, neutral old Witcher was also a Knightly Griffin School type... slaying monsters and saving or avenging ladies was part of his trade. He would approve strongly or disapprove strongly. There was no middle ground with him. He was silent again as he ate for a time, listening to her explain her reasons for doing what she was, what they were, viper eyes peering into the leaping flames of the fire, weighing her words, and his own thoughts. Then, yellow gaze looking to her blue pair again, with a nod, he lay them out for her, not sugarcoating it.

"Ain't kidding myself on Stregobor and Eltibald. The Black Sun is recurring, generational... I saw one myself, in 1210, camping in the forests of Caingorn. Didn't know what it was at the time. If I know anything nowadays, it's that cruel, ignorant mages are generational too. More like them will rise. What this is is justice, an accounting for these two's actions in my time and yours. Long overdue. We both got personal reasons for doing this... but I ain't pretending it won't happen again, one day. Another Black Sun. Another Council of Mages. More old fools and witches playing God because they've had a taste of magic. Stewed in it for too long. Locking girls up in towers. But I will content myself with their deaths, at least. The final two behind all this. High time I closed this chapter of my life. Been a long time coming. Almost seven decades."

@starwrittenfates

"Danger I can handle... even when it ends up taking a lovely and enticing form. The most dangerous things in this world often have them. Bruxa, for one personal example... at least before the claws and wings come out... the fangs I have less of a problem with... but I digress. Have so many stories you would develop grey hair by the time I was finished with just half of them."

The Witcher's deep, amused voice returned to her with a chuckle and wink her way, the old fang scars along his neck almost tingling at the memory, continuing to stir the now simmering stew and add in a few more spices. It was going good now, just about ready... his appetite was becoming ravenous. Yet when she spoke again, his viper eyes and attention returned to the noblewoman, considering her blue eyes and words carefully. Memories stirring of the Trials he had endured long ago... of Sad Albert, down in the laboratory... the sorcerers hovering over him, inserting tubes in him... chanting and casting their magic... inserting glowing yellow liquid filled syringes into his eyeballs, turning them from normal and blue to serpentine... one of the many reasons he had chosen not to bring Deidre to Kaer Morhen when he should have. One of his excuses and self justification for his chosen course of actions, one he thought about often. She would not have survived the process... and had been a Princess anyways, destined by birth for a better life and upbringing than she ever would have had at Kaer Morhen. Or so he had believed or fooled himself into believing... and had been wrong about. The Black Sun and the old fools of the Council... along with destiny, had seen to that. More likely, he had simply not wanted to be laughed out of Kaer Morhen by the old guard that had run the place before the pogrom for even suggesting she be brought to the school for training. It was a bitter thought and memory, among the many conflicting ones that he carried.

"You're better off as you are, poorly as destiny has treated you. Wouldn't have very long a life, if destiny tried to make you a female Witcher. Alzur, Cosimo Malaspina, Idarran of Ulivo and the other Witcher creators found that out the hard way over three centuries ago, in their early mutation experiments at Rissberg Castle and Kaer Seren. The mutagens and magical rituals of the Trials only work on pre pubescent boys... and even then, perhaps three out of ten times at best. The rest... the ones it doesn't work on... well. The less said the better about what happens to them... especially during supper. And even if they do survive, it means a week straight of agony the likes of which I have no other experience to compare it to... not even the way I ended up with this face. Burning all over... inside and out... and all while strapped down to a laboratory table. Unable to tell your own screams in the darkness apart from the other children's screams. And that's just what Witchers endure before the training begins. Without the mutations of the Trials, training or not, the first genuinely formidable monster a Witcher would face would also be their last."

Eskel reasoned slowly and calmly, remembering the times he had spoken to the others at Kaer Morhen about such things. He had objected to Leo being trained by Vesemir, making the same argument about the Trials... just as he had been skeptical of Ciri being brought to Kaer Morhen for training by Wolf. Being a Witcher was not a romantic title like being a Knight... in the old days you didn't just pick up a sword one day, learn some textbook monster knowledge and how to pirouette and be considered a true Witcher for it... Alzur's mutations were key to being a Witcher and surviving in such a dangerous life. Leo's needless death from a crossbow bolt he could not dodge or parry had proven that. It was not a role to be adopted on a romantic whim... as Geralt had done in regards to Ciri... and Vesemir getting likewise soft and attempting to do the same with Leo. Ciri's strange Elder Blood powers were likely the only reason she had survived some time on the Path. A true Witcher underwent the entire process, or the purpose, capability and role of a Witcher, of Alzur's vision, was diluted. He was a traditionalist, first and foremost, for very good reasons. Life on the Path was not a game or fairy tale, nor something everyone could be or should aspire to be. Destiny chose Witchers, people could not choose to be one. Of course Geralt had thought Ciri to be all of their destinies... Eskel remained skeptical of that claim... she had been Geralt's, certainly, as Deidre had been his own. A destiny he had betrayed... but his destiny nonetheless. At last, he sampled the stew again and deemed it suitably prepared, looking Syanna's way again and beckoning her closer to the fire and stewing pot, retrieving a bowl for her as he spoke up again. Glancing idly between the stew and her.

"Stew's finished. Come dish some up, let me know what you think of my cooking. Hopefully my meals are at least somewhat better at improving the mood than my dour stories. As for the Emperor, he cares and always had cared only for himself. His own power. As it is with damn near all monarchs outside Upper Aedirn. I would suggest that senile old puppet Usurper that killed his father, cursed and cast him out as a boy broke something in him a long time ago. And what they both did to the Viper School and its Witchers... well... seems he ended up taking more after the Usurper than Fergus."

@starwrittenfates

[sepedarodatiga]

The Snow Queen fairytale as a motif used in GoT/ASOIAF

First of all, how many fairytales and myths can GRRM fit into this story, seriously?? I know many have written well thought and well informed meta of various fairytale motives fit with ASOIAF/GoT, and I am just here adding into an already huge pile, but it bothers me, okay. I have to get it out there into the tumblr void. And this is not really a well thought and well informed meta (I’m not a folklore/literature expert, not to mention European folklore/literature), I’m just pointing my fingers into the patterns I saw fit. Also, I can’t count myself as ASOIAF book reader, I just watch the show. What I know about the books, I read it here in tumblr. 

But anyway, you might be surprised as to which character I saw fit as The Snow Queen in GoT

It’s Daenerys Targaryen.

I know I know... whaat? The Mother of Dragons, Bride of Fire as The Snow Queen? Get out of here, right...

But it’s a pun. It’s not The Snow Queen, it’s Jon Snow’s Queen, get it? Remember how Jon repeatedly saying “you’re my queen” to Dany during season 8? Yeah. Oh and Jon is Kay, while Sansa is Gerda. 

What made me realize that Dany is The Snow Queen is when I was reading my son the fairytale. In the version retold by Kate Friend, it describes The Snow Queen as beautiful and terrible. And I was like, huh, just like Dany, especially with the white hair and the all white costume in season 8. 

Daenerys Targaryen, beautiful and terrible.

And then of course the story went on describing how Kay becomes her prisoner and then I was like, well that’s like Jon Snow during season 8 too.... And then in Disney’s adaptation Frozen, Elsa has white hair with purple eyeshadow, while Anna (Gerda) has....red hair....which is like... Sansa Stark. Then I also remember the illustration on my son’s book which is by John Patience, that reminded me of the Iron Throne.

The Snow Queen illustration by John Patience. See how much alike this setting is with the Red Keep? Especially in Dany’s vision in HoTU when snow was falling.

So I went investigating, and shit... I mean obviously the sequencing was moved around, GRRM likes to subvert things, but my God!

Before we get into Jon Snow and his queen, I have to start with the other characters first. And I will be taking excerpt of the story from The Hans Christian Andersen Center website which I assume would be the most original one.

Gerda = Sansa Stark

Here is a description of Gerda’s power:  “No power that I could give could be as great as that which she already has. Don't you see how men and beasts are compelled to serve her, and how far she has come in the wide world since she started out in her naked feet? We mustn't tell her about this power. Strength lies in her heart, because she is such a sweet, innocent child.”

Furthermore, her connection with Kay are through roses (they have a window box full of roses) and a song that goes like this:  "Where roses bloom so sweetly in the vale, There shall you find the Christ Child, without fail." Another variation of the song is: “The rose in the valley has flowers so sweet, and angels come down there the children to greet.” She saved Kay with her prayers, hugs, kisses, tears and her song and their reunion literally ended winter and brings spring. If that’s not Sansa Stark (and the jonsa reunion), then I don’t know what is.

Gerda made a journey to the North to find Kay and bring him back together with her to their home. Sansa did not meant to make a journey North to find Jon and bring him back home, but this is what happened anyway. The story even stressed on the fact that when they came back to their homes, they were no longer children but grown ups. On her quest Gerda offered her red shoes to the river to get information about Kay’s whereabouts but the red shoes were given back to her the first time. But she did it once again and the river set her on the path to find Kay. I’m not really sure but for Sansa it could be her betrothal to Joffrey that was then canceled but then she got married to Tyrion Lannister. Her red shoes is her name and her claim to the North.

Gerda then met an old woman who wanted to keep her and made her forget about Kay by keeping all the roses underground. The old woman’s place was beautiful. Here is an excerpt:  “Then Gerda was led into the flower garden. How fragrant and lovely it was! Every known flower of every season was there in full bloom. No picture book was ever so pretty and gay. Gerda jumped for joy, and played in the garden until the sun went down behind the tall cherry trees. Then she was tucked into a beautiful bed, under a red silk coverlet quilted with blue violets. There she slept, and there she dreamed as gloriously as any queen on her wedding day.” But then she saw a rose on the old woman’s hat and finally remembers her purpose of finding Kay. I would say that the old woman is Cersei Lannister who tried to make Sansa forget about her home and her innocence. Sansa was also saved from her clutch by roses (The Tyrells).

Then Gerda with information from a crow, met a Princess and Prince. She thought that the Prince might be Kay, but it turns out he was not. This might be Sansa’s vale arc and the Prince is either Petyr Baelish or Harry Hardyng. The Prince and Princess also gave provisions for Gerda’s journey to the North, so this may be that the KoTV helps Sansa getting Winterfell back. The crow, has a ladylove, another crow and they finally get married and live in the Princess’s castle though unfortunately the crow then died. The crow was a wild forest crow while his ladylove is a tame crow. These two crows could be genderbent into Sam Tarly and Gilly. Remember that Sam is mock as Jon’s ladylove by Alliser Thorne?

Next Gerda met a robber girl who sleeps with a knife and have plenty of pigeons. Yep, of course that is very much like Arya Stark (who sometimes is being referred to as “a girl”)

The pigeons told Gerda about Kay and The Snow Queen. The robber girl finally gave Gerda her reindeer called Bae for her journey to the North. The girl likes to tickle the reindeer’s neck with her knife. At the end of the story it is told that the robber girl then decided to leave her place and find adventure in the world. Very much like Arya’s ending.

Now about that reindeer Bae who helped Gerda to reach to Kay in The Snow Queen’s palace in the far North. In ASOIAF/GoT, we can connect Bae to Baelish. Make sense. Petyr Baelish helps Sansa get to North and Arya’s knife did end up in his neck. But also we can connect it to two foreshadowing of Sansa bearing Jon’s child. The first is more well-known: Bael the Bard. The second one I think is more hidden and I made a post about it quite long ago: Baelor. Is this far fetched? Maybe, but I’ll take it.

Kay = Jon (+ The Night King)

Kay and Gerda are neighbours and they share a garden (particularly a flower box full of roses). Their relationship, in the words of Hans Christian Andersen himself are: “These children were not brother and sister, but they loved each other just as much as if they had been.” So they are NOT brother and sister but love each other as such. While Jon and Sansa are also NOT brother and sister but was raised as such.

Then Kay got splinters of magic mirror stuck to his eyes and his heart. The mirror “made everything great and good that was reflected in it appear small and ugly, but which magnified all evil things until each blemish loomed large”. It made Kay hated all the roses, they look ugly now to his eyes and also made Kay loved the snow and the cold. Jon Snow at the beginning of the story was a cynical little boy because he was raised as a bastard. He wanted to leave Winterfell and sneered at the idea of having a family of his own because he felt that he can’t have them. So he went to the coldest place there is.

In the story, Kay plays with his sled, and then The Snow Queen came with her sled and Kay hooked his sled to hers. The Snow Queen first, covers Kay in a bearskin rug and gave Kay kisses. The first kiss “was colder than ice. He felt it right down to his heart, half of which was already an icy lump. He felt as if he were dying, but only for a moment. Then he felt quite comfortable, and no longer noticed the cold”. The second kiss makes Kay forgets about Gerda and their homes. The third kiss, The Snow Queen does not give him because it would be the kiss of death.

I argue that GRRM subvert this story. I think Jon Snow was already saved by Sansa before he met Dany. The splinters in his eyes and heart was already gone when he faced The Snow Queen. The reunion happened before he met Dany. The first two kisses also already happened: Jon Snow had died and came alive again, and he also forced to forget about his home and family while he was at the Night’s Watch. The bearskin rug which The Snow Queen used to cover Kay can allude to Jeor Mormont and/or Longclaw. 

Then Jon Snow met his queen finally, but instead of a hooking sleds.... it’s dragons. Jon Snow’s sled was his dragon Rhaegal which are hooked to Dany’s sled Drogon. But his eyes wasn’t blinded by the splinter and his heart were already warm. He knowingly and willingly follow the dragon to save his family.

And the third kiss of death that wasn’t given by The Snow Queen? Jon Snow will give it to his queen instead.

Now let’s go back a little bit. Kay was also given a puzzle from ice by The Snow Queen, and if he can solve it then he is free. He was supposed to spell the word “eternity” but he couldn’t figure it out with the shard in his eyes and heart. In GoT we know exactly who has got an shard in his heart.

The Night King. And so that is why he plays with puzzle in ice. He is struggling to form the one symbol that would set him free.

Bonuses

Other than those patterns, there are several interesting tidbits from the story that fits with ASOIAF. There is this one blog said that The Snow Queen story was inspired by another story called “East of the Sun and West of the Moon” which if you read it, it is essentially “The Bear and the Maiden Fair” (the bear is a white bear, by the way)

More bonuses here. When Gerda finally remembers to find Kay during her time in the old woman’s home because of the rose, different flowers gave her different stories even though none tells her about Kay.

This is the story from tiger lily:

"Do you hear the drum? Boom, boom! It was only two notes, always boom, boom! Hear the women wail. Hear the priests chant. The Hindoo woman in her long red robe stands on the funeral pyre. The flames rise around her and her dead husband, but the Hindoo woman is thinking of that living man in the crowd around them. She is thinking of him whose eyes are burning hotter than the flames-of him whose fiery glances have pierced her heart more deeply than these flames that soon will burn her body to ashes. Can the flame of the heart die in the flame of the funeral pyre?"

So GRRM didn’t take the sati ritual for Dany’s rites of passage as mother of dragons from just anywhere, but it is from this story.

Also, hear this story from hyacinth

"There were three sisters, quite transparent and very fair. One wore a red dress, the second wore a blue one, and the third went all in white. Hand in hand they danced in the clear moonlight, beside a calm lake. They were not elfin folk. They were human beings. The air was sweet, and the sisters disappeared into the forest. The fragrance of the air grew sweeter. Three coffins, in which lie the three sisters, glide out of the forest and across the lake. The fireflies hover about them like little flickering lights. Are the dancing sisters sleeping or are they dead? The fragrance of the flowers says they are dead, and the evening bell tolls for their funeral."

Of course this immediately bring to memory the quote of Jon Snow with Val: “The light of the half-moon turned Val’s honey-blond hair a pale silver and left her cheeks as white as snow. She took a deep breath. “The air tastes sweet.”” Well then, according to Hans Christian Andersen, that means death. There are three sisters here which could allude to the three queens at the almost end of GoT: Cersei Lannister (red), Sansa Stark (blue) and Daenerys Targaryen (white).

So those are my stab at it. I would be interested to hear if anyone’s take on it.

[longing-and-heartache-and-lust]

Prompt: Going to a Fair Relationships (romantic/platonic/etc): Geralt/Jaskier Rating: Teen Audiences And Up Content Warnings: None Summary: A beautiful thing about Toussaint is the fairs and masquerades the dutchess holds every now and then. And the big canopy beds. Oh, those are the best part.

[This one turned out to a little all over the place but I still really enjoyed writing it. Hope you’ll enjoy it too, my darlings.]

@sugar-and-spice-witcher-bingo

Crossposted on ao3 here

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

"Geralt, my love, you look wonderful, stop being so hard on yourself," Jaskier says, wrapping his arms around the witcher's waist and hugging him from the back, locking eyes with him through the mirror.

Geralt doesn't really share the bard's enthusiasm. He's used to his armour, to thick black leather with only a few elements of silver, and that is what feels natural, what feels right.

A dark-crimson - almost wine-red, really - doublet with intricate embroidery in gold thread does not.

He knows that he'd agreed to this himself, knows that Jaskier had told him that if he doesn't want to go, he won't get upset with him and just go with Barnabas-Basil or one of his friends. But Geralt always went out of his way to make his husband happy.

So, naturally, when Jaskier told him that there's going to be a masquerade and a fair in Beauclair, he couldn't say no.

"The dutchess herself is said to be there," Jaskier murmurs against his neck, smiling encouragingly. "I'm sure she will be delighted to see you. After all, we were personally invited, weren't we?"

"Isn't the whole point of a masquerade is for the participants not to recognise each other?" Geralt tries, weakly.

"Oh, don't be like that," Jaskier huffs, waving a hand dissmissingly. "It's going to be fun, I promise. Besides, isn't Regis going to be there?"

That's true, Geralt supposes. Regis is going to be there, which makes the event slightly more bearable. It's always nice to talk to an old friend.

"He is," he hums, adjusting the collar od his shirt. "Going to keep me company when you run off to flirt with the next pretty little thing you see."

Jaskier just laughs at that, circling Geralt to stand in front of him and take his face into his hands, getting a stray strand of silver out of his eyes.

"You know that never leads to anything," he smiles, leaning in to touch the witcher's dry lips with his own. "I can innocently flirt with everyone I see but it's only you I love, my darling. And only you I want."

Geralt does know that. He's not even jealous, never doubting Jaskier's faithfulness but missing an opportunity to tease would've been a waste.

"I know," he finally says, stealing another kiss. "And yet, if the dutchess herself is going to be there... She's got an eye for you, you know. Would be terribly rude of you to turn down such an important woman."

Jaskier snickers and shakes his head, eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Then it's a good thing that she's not going to recognise me."

-

When they arrive, the event is already in full swing.

Jaskier's eyes light up at the music that flows through the garden and the way he squeezes Geralt's hand suddenly makes the entire thing worth it in the witcher's mind.

Jaskier looks breathtaking in his dark-blue silk suit, the silver mask hiding just enough of his face for it to be almost impossible to recognise him yet leaving enough open for Geralt to still have the option of pulling his close and kissing him. in the witcher's mind, it couldn't be more perfect.

"May I hear the password?" asks one of the guards at the gates, his own face hidden behind a mask with a long beak.

"Waterlilies," Jaskier says, repeating what's been written in their invitations.

The guard nods and gestures to the doors.

"If you'll be so kind as to follow me," he says. "Our most generous dutchess Anna Henrietta has arranged a room for you so that you don't have to make a long journey back home at night."

There is nothing about Jaskier's expression - half-hidden by the mask - that gives away his delight but Geralt knows him well enough to be able to smell it on him. Jaskier is, after all, of a noble family, a court man, and Geralt knows just how much he loves it when he's treated like one, even though most of the time he happily trades it for the life on the Path.

Corvo Bianco, it seemed, was the perfect middle ground.

They follow the guard through the garden and into a big, richly decorated estate with stained-glass windows and luscious flowers hanging in big round pots. The guard takes them to the upper floor, opens the door with a key and gestures for Geralt and Jaskier to step inside and make themselves comfortable.

"If there shall be anything you need, the servants are on the ground floor, you need only call," he says, adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves and handing Jaskier the key. "Enjoy your night, gentleman."

With that, he bows and leaves, leaving Jaskier and Geralt alone in the room.

"Oh, this reminds me of home," Jaskier sighs, a smile on his lips as he falls onto a truly enormous canopy bed covered with red velvet.

"Of home?" Geralt echoes, almost feeling out of place in such a rich interior.

"Well, you know, my childhood home," Jaskier says, propping himself up on both elbows. "I have to be honest with you, Geralt, I miss all of this from time to time."

The witcher comes closer, sits on the edge of the bed, runs his hand over the velvet and sighs, content. It does feel nice.

"Do you think we could get a bed like this for the vineyard?" Jaskier asks, pushing him down onto his back and lying down next to him, finding Geralt's hand and bringing it up to his lips to press a kiss to the knuckles. "It's not only amazing to sleep in but also-" his eyes light up behind his mask, and Geralt knows a little too well what that means. "Look at those poles, my love. I could let you tie my wrists to them if you were to wish for it."

Oh, that sounds tempting.

"Hmm," Geralt hums, non-commital. "Sounds intriguing. Though I might need to try first and then decide. After all, finding this kind of bed is not easy."

It takes Jaskier a second to understand what exactly it is that Geralt is saying but then he gasps in mock offence and shoves him in the shoulder with no real force.

"Preposterous!" he gasps, a hand over his heart. "This is the dutchess' cousin's summer residence, and this is, I'm more than sure, the best guest bedroom. Anarietta herself might be sleeping in this bed while visiting."

"Yes," Geralt says simply, knowing that all of that only adds to Jaskier's interest. "And tonight this bed is ours."

-

Before that conversation can take them anywhere, Jaskier demands they go back to the garden.

Geralt doesn't object, just follows the bard down the stairs and helps him adjust his doublet before they step out the door. He feels just a little strange with his hair done up in a complicated bun but then again, Jaskier told him that it will help the witcher be even less recognisable, and there was never anything that Geralt could deny him.

The disguise was, it seemed, working effectively for they've almost bumped into Anarietta - Geralt recognised her by smell - when passing the gates again but she didn't notice them. Or, at least, she didn't come up to them, to Geralt's immeasurable relief. He'd only ever said it to Jaskier but the dutchess was getting on his nerves and if he could avoid her, he gladly did just that.

"There's a Gwent tournament somewhere in the north side of the garden, as far as I'm aware," Jaskier says, making a non-descriptive gesture in the general direction, as they walk past a table with all sorts of baked sweets. "If you're interested."

Even with Jaskier, Geralt feels somewhat out of place at an event like this. And a few rounds of Gwent sound like a perfect way to forget about it.

"Sounds tempting," he says, reaching to brush his fingers over Jaskier's and take his hand into his own. He's still getting used to it. "Though you know I prefer to play with you."

Jaskier rolls his eyes in fond exasperation.

"That's because every time we play, you insist that we play strip Gwent, knowing perfectly that you're a better player than me," he chuckles. "Honestly, Geralt, all you need to do for me to undress is ask."

"I know," the witcher grins, pulling Jaskier closer to shamelessly press a kiss to his cheek. "But where's the fun in that?"

-

He plays a few rounds without Jaskier, winning effortlessly every time while the bard is making new acquaintances by the wine vault where there are multiple tables with all the best blends of reds and whites.

Geralt can't see him but he can hear him, Jaskier's voice soft and beautiful as he tells a group of young women stories about Skellige. They all gasp almost in unison when the bard tells them about that one time when they've been travelling between the islands on a boat and nearly drowned when a pack of sirens toppled it over.

Geralt chuckles to himself, knowing perfect that they were never in any real danger for it was near the coast of And Skellig and if anything happened, fishermen or sailors would've picked them up almost immediately.

Jaskier refers to him as "my husband", not giving away any names, including his own, and every time the witcher hears that, a little piece of his heart seems to melt. It's been more than five years since they've gotten married but in a way, Geralt is still not used to it.

When the time is moving towards late evening, Jaskier joins him at the table, nodding a greeting to Geralt's opponent and leaning down to brush his lips over the witcher's cheek.

"Winning, my love?" he asks, blushing just a little when Geralt pulls him into his lap.

"As usual," he grins, to great displeasure to the man across the table.

Jaskier murmurs something content, throwing his arms around Geralt's neck and sneaking a look at his cards. Geralt tries to hide them from him but the bard scratches his shoulder through the doublet and that's all it really takes for the witcher to give up and let him see.

Geralt's a long-time player and his deck is pretty much as good as it gets, nearly every gold card there is being in his possession but it's the final round and Geralt's opponent's got four cards in hand while as the wither only ahs three. By now it mostly depends on luck. But Jaskier might just know a way to get it onto their side.

"Win this round for me," he murmurs into Geralt's ear, quiet enough only for him to hear. "And I'll think about what you said back in the bedroom."

Geralt's golden eyes light up with a flame that Jaskier knows well enough to know that his words have been effective.

It all goes very fast from there. Though Geralt's only got one gold card in hand, it's a Cirilla card which has the power of fifteen and that is what ends up getting him the win, when the man across the table, with his overall score of sixteen, throws a water card onto the table, making both of Geralt's archers drop from four to one.

He wins by just one point, but he wins.

Jaskier can feel his heart flutter with anticipation as Geralt grins at his opponent, reaching over the table to get the coin they've put up. It's a rather impressive amount. The other player must be a count or something like that.

He's clearly not too happy about losing his gold but he takes it as a good player, standing up and shaking Geralt's hand with a congratulation. Then, he wishes them both a pleasant evening and leaves, waving to someone by the fountain.

"I won," Geralt states, still grinning and oh so pleased with himself. "What was it that you said, bard? If I win, what is it that you're going to think about?"

Jaskier laughs and pulls him into an affectionate kiss, one hand coming up to cup the sharp of the witcher's jaw.

"You just wait until we're back in the bedroom, my dearest."

-

It's closer to midnight when they finally find Regis.

Or, rather, when Regis finds them.

"Fascinating how people always seem to want to disguise themselves," he says instead of a greeting, appearing out of nowhere, just like he always does. "And how they seem more attracted to each other when they don't know who is hiding behind the mask."

He's got a full-black velvet suit on, adorned with raven feathers, and a matching mask that hides most of his face. If it wasn't for his voice, Jaskier would've never recognised him.

"Mystery is always thrilling," the bard smiles, taking a sip of his Est-Est. "There's something irresistibly captivating about a man in a mask. A woman, too, of course, but women are mysterious creatures in general."

Regis nods knowingly and also raises his wineglass.

"Yes, women are... A mystery no man will ever solve."

They all fall silent for a couple of moments, and even though Jaskier knows that Geralt is thinking about Yennefer, there is no more pain. There hasn't been, for years now.

It took them a long time to figure it all out, to talk everything over, and though it would come with tears what seemed like every time, eventually, it was all over. And it brought them so close that if Jaskier had to go through all of that again twice, he would.

"Well, my dearest friends," Regis finally says, breaking the silence. "I've heard that there are prize-winning games starting at midnight, would you care to join me in testing my luck?"

-

Regis turns out to be a rather talented fisherman.

That is, given that what he's fishing for is a gold ring with a bright-red ruby in the centre - one of the three main possible prizes in the game.

The other players look at him with both jealousy and fascination, loud applause echoing through the garden.

Regis looks very pleased with himself - as much as Jaskier can tell, keeping the mask in mind - but it's only when they leave the deck of the pond that he asks for Jaskier's hand and places the ring into his palm.

"Beautiful work," he says, closing Jaskier's hand around the ring before he has the chance to refuse. "But it just so happens that gold suits you better, my friend."

"Regis-" Jaskier breathes out. "I cannot accept this. You've won it, it's yours."

Regis smiles - one of those tight-lipped smiles of his that doesn't show his teeth.

"I'm afraid I must insist," he says. "If it puts your mind at ease, I don't wear jewellery at all. It gets in the way of making my medications."

"Of making your moonshine, you meant to say," Geralt chuckles teasingly.

"The most effective out of all of my elixirs, my friend."

Jaskier knows said elixir a little too well and shakes his head with a fond smile, opening his hand to examine the ring closer.

"Thank you, Regis," he smiles. "I shall treasure this gift forever."

-

Geralt refrains from any other games, saying that he's very happy with his winnings from Gwent and doesn't want to push his luck any further.

Jaskier, however, overhears that there is a bardic competition about to start and he nearly runs, having grabbed Geralt by the hand. They get there just in time for him to take one on the last remaining places.

All of the participants are given their preferred instruments and are told to improvise for three and a half minutes. Whoever comes up with the best song and gets the loudest applause, shall win five long ribbons of the finest Toussaint silk that the winner can then take to a seamstress and get their clothes adorned. Jaskier's eyes shine like the stars above when he sees the royal-blue ribbon.

Geralt and Regis take their places in the audience, the witcher secretly worried, and try their absolute best at hyping Jaskier up by rolling their eyes at the other participant's songs to indicate just how non-impressive all of those attempts are.

Jaskier smiles at them from behind his mask and giggles when Regis implies that he's so bored by one of the songs that he's about to turn into smoke and disappear.

When it comes to Jaskier's turn, the bard adjusts the collar of his doublet and the cuffs of his sleeves, stands up because he hates to perform sitting down, runs his fingers over the lute strings and takes his first note, practised and beautiful, as always.

He sings about two people meeting at a masquerade and falling on love with each other immediately. Sings about them kissing in the dark alleyways of the garden and promising each other the stars. And sings about them not recognising each other when they cross paths the next morning while also searching for one another. They part, having nearly touched hands at the gates, to always look for each other, aching with love, but never meet again.

By the time Jaskier touches the strings one last time, half the audience is wiping at their eyes, including Regis.

It's an immediate win and Jaskier shines with it when the judge hands him his silk ribbons and compliments both his singing and his lyrics.

"Such a beautiful story," Regis says when Jaskier joins them. "Tragic romance is never going to get old."

Geralt can almost smell Jaskier's blush.

"Thank you, my dearest," he smiles, only a little coy. "I'm going to make sure to write more pieces like this."

-

When they part, it's nearly dawn.

Most of the games and shows are over, the tables with food and wine nearly empty, and all the guests start slowly making their way home.

Jaskier isn't necessarily tired but he's grateful to all the gods he knows that there is no need to ride back to Corvo Bianco.

When they're saying their goodbyes, Geralt invites Regis to come visit them for a day or two - or even a week, he says - and Regis, in turn, suggest they come visit him at his crypt. Jaskier realises that they've knows each other for so long now that it doesn't even sound strange to him.

Nearly all the guests are already gone when they get back to their room.

"Remind me to send a note to the dutchess to express our gratitude for being so considerate," Jaskier says, shrugging off his doublet and rolling his sore shoulders.

Geralt just hums, non-commital.

"That song you've played," he says, letting his hair down which is a gorgeous sight to see. "Had it really been an improvised one?"

Jaskier blushes under the gaze of his golden eyes, untying the laces of his mask. Geralt's always read him like an open book.

"No," he admits, averting his eyes when the witcher comes closer. "I've composed it a few weeks ago, when we've just gotten the invitations."

"Hmm," Geralt hums again, his half-grin making Jaskier's heart stutter for what seems like the millionth time. "Thought of me?"

The bard blushes even further, grateful the dim light of the fireplace is making it less apparent.

"Always think of you," he says, leaning into the touch when Geralt hugs him from the back and noses at his neck.

Geralt breathes a pleased noise against his neck, low and rumbling, knowing a little too well just how much of a weakness it is for the bard.

"Of course you do," he murmurs, undoing the buttons of Jaskier's shirt one by one without looking and leaving long hot kisses on his neck.

Jaskier lets out a shaky breath, throwing his head onto Geralt's shoulder and just forgetting about everything else for a few long moments before the witcher slips the shirt from his own shoulders to take it off, and he has to put the silk ribbons he's still holding down. They're all incredibly beautiful, they really are but as he sets them down onto a small round table, it's a pale-lilac one that catches his eye.

"What are you going to do with them?" Geralt enquires, letting the fabric of Jaskier's shirt fall to their feet and trailing his kisses down, onto his shoulders. "Order a new doublet from the court seamstress? Or change up one of those that you already have?"

Jaskier picks the lilac ribbon up, unties the bow that's keeping it folded, wraps it around his wrist once, twice, and pulls to see how it feels. The silk is pleasantly cool against his skin.

He bites his lips and turns around in Geralt's arms to lock eyes with him and run his hand through his hair.

"I might have a better idea."

[kittynannygaming]

KittyNannyGaming!Masterlist

Fanfics:

Crossovers:

4 fandoms or more:

Advent Calendar 2020 (Complete)

Countdown until December 25th with fanworks and theories.

AO3 - Tumblr

ART MASTERLIST

SIMS 4 MASTERLIST

Harry Potter/Percy Jackson:

The Twice-Blessed Half-Blood (WIP):

Every Half-Blood has one god-parent, this we know: however, Harry is different because of one reason: through the ways of the divine, he has more than one god for a parent/guardian. [DZ2's 'Harry the Twice-Blessed Half-Blood' Challenge: A Harry Potter/Percy Jackson (or Heroes of Olympus) Crossover]

AO3

Harry Potter/The Witcher

Sweet Child Of Mine

Le destin obtient toujours ce qu’il veut, qu’importe les Sorciers trop orgueilleux qui tentent de prendre sa place ou les Sorcelleurs trop réfractaires qui tentent de le fuir. Harry Potter a besoin de quelqu’un de noble, dans tous les sens du terme, pour l’élever. Le destin va choisir Julian Alfred Pankratz, Vicomte de Lettenhove aussi connu comme Jaskier, Barde du Loup Blanc. 

01 - 02 - 03

The Hobbit/The Witcher

A brooder, no matter the name (En cours)

Il y a des choses qui ne changent jamais!

AO3

Kaamelott

La Reine Guenièvre (En cours)

Elle en avait assez de passer pour une idiote. Assez de voir son époux et son roi au bras (et dans le lit) d'autres femmes. Elle avait été gentille jusqu'à présent, il était maintenant temps qu'il fasse connaissance avec la vraie Guenièvre. 

AO3

Numb3rs:

Babies Files (3 OS):

Charlie has great news for his family. It's Don turn! Charlie and Don argue about babies’ custody. 

AO3

Idaho and California Boys (WIP)

Charlie proves to Colby that he still trusts him. For Numb3rs100 Community

AO3

Tolkien:

Sweet Berry (2 OS WIP):

Berry Baggins isn't your typical Hobbit Lady. Berry Baggins isn't your typical Hobbit, period. And Gandalf and his dwarfs guests are going to learn it./ Berry wants a hair cut. Someone disagrees.

AO3

Torchwood

Les 5 morts de Gwen Cooper... (Terminée)

...vues par ses coéquipiers et celle où elle se tua elle-même!

Gwen Cooper a le don de mettre le pied dans le plat. Ça devait bien finir par lui retomber dessus.

AO3

Twilight:

The Heart Has Its Reasons (OS):

Anna was the last to have been changed by Carlisle in 1952. Although she is in love with Edward, he only sees her as a sister. Arrived at Forks, she will try to forget her one-sided love. Might a wolf help her? Drabble written for a contest on Hp/Twilight and others Universes. Theme: Eternity

AO3

The Wolf and The Vampire (Complete)

"It came out of nowhere." Not for Bella lovers. For the community Twi-Slash Drabble 100

AO3

The Witcher: (Ask Me)

Love The Way How You Just Sit In The Corner And Brood (OS):

Jaskier is always very smooth when flirting, except when confronted to exceptionally beautiful people. And it took 20 years to Geralt to take the hint.

Tumblr (AO3)

Lovely Bottom (OS):

Geralt: 'I'm not your friend.' Jaskier: 'Really? Oh, you usually just let strangers rub chamomile onto your lovely bottom?'

How the 'lovely bottom's massage' could have happened.

AO3

A magic like no others (OS)

When a cursed sorceress is awaken in an abandoned tower of Kaer Morhen, none of its inhabitants would have imagined how much theirs lives were about to change.

AO3

Melitele’s Blessing (WIP)

Melitele looked at her child, her beautiful songbird, whose heart was full of love for the Witcher. She saw also all his pain and suffering and decided that enough was enough. Her boy will have someone to love and who will love him in return even if it’s not the White Wolf. After all, it’s not her fault that he can’t recognize a blessing when she send him one.

AO3 - 01 - 02 - 03

The Phoenix’ Song (OS)

The Witcher was unlocatable and the Witch just burned a good part of their army. But the Bard. Oh, the Bard was an easy prey.

AO3

Under My Skin (WIP):

On your skin is written what people think of you. Geralt of Rivia only had seen « monster », « freak » and others insults. Until he met a bard, in Posada.

01 (AO3), 02 (AO3), 03 (AO3)

Witchertober 2020 (Complete)

For the Witchertober 2020 list by @bamf-jaskier. Drabbles. Rating G to M. A story in 31 drabbles.

AO3 - Tumblr

Forest (OS)

She was done! You hear! Done with her brother antics! G

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Bows And Arrows 2022

Masterlist

11 Drabbles featuring Eskel and Lil’Bleater

The Sandman Masterlist

[morcfcrarum]

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖘𝖍 𝖍𝖆𝖘 𝖆𝖗𝖗𝖎𝖛𝖊𝖉

a brief rundown on the status of my trash children

--𝖊𝖎𝖗

feeling extra fancy in her new dress (courtesy of llyr).  bouncing between dancing, trying to get her brother to dance, usual thievery, and...soliciting other things from a couple specific people.  her mask is a glittering filigree of swirls and curves in a color to match her dress, shaped overall to play off her sharp jaw and delicate features.

--𝖒𝖎ł𝖔𝖘𝖟

bard boy loves dressing up.  his outfit is an opulent brocade, fitted close to his body, and his mask is a structured half-face one covered in the same material as his clothes.  his primary job is musical entertainment, but catch him sneaking some drinks and maybe some flirting with hot men he sees on the dance floor.

--𝖏𝖚𝖑𝖎𝖆𝖓

feeling naked without his usual armor or four layers of clothes, julian has opted for something simple, though he does get a chance to show off his fancy cloak.  his mask is equally as simple as his clothing, a burnished silver that reflects the candlelight like an aged mirror.  he is attempting to corral his two young, rambunctious children as well as keep his husband from stealing from half of the city’s residents before the night’s end.

--𝖊𝖒𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖆𝖓𝖔

emil is one suave motherfucker.  dressed in a rich, garnet robe with a mask made of pure gold that covers just over half his face (a la phantom of the opera), he is there to make an impression.  he’ll take command of the dance floor, dancing with anyone and everyone- he loves parties, and wants everyone to enjoy it.

--𝖌𝖜𝖊𝖓

gwen can only afford a simple burgundy gown, paired with a simple black mask.  even still, she will be dancing with her best friends and trying to get her lover to dance with her.

--𝖆𝖓𝖓𝖆

anna has managed to drag faustus to the ball, wearing a beautiful pale blue dress with gold accents that flows easily with any passing breeze.  her mask is one of a blue slightly paler than her dress, filigree swirls extending around the top of her head as if to imitate a crown.  she is there to socialize and dance, and try to bring faustus out of his funk.

--𝖍𝖎𝖑𝖉

hild, ever the wild child, is in a pale green silken dress draped with silver-jeweled strings.  her shoes are long gone, red hair spilling down her back in chaotic curls, and her mask is a simple one of white wood, with carvings representing a deer’s antlers extending into delicate, actual antlers that tangle through her hair.  she will dance with anyone, though her goal is to coax her best friend alwin onto the dance floor, as well as perhaps score a new job.

--𝖆𝖔𝖎𝖋𝖊

still grieving ragnar and fearing the process of bearing her first child alone, aoife has come merely to represent the brothel.  her dress is simple, merely black silk draped over her form and held with thin strands of gold and garnet beads in the back. her mask is a delicate, almost sheer black edged with the same gold and garnet accents as her dress.  

--𝖇𝖗𝖎𝖘𝖊𝖎𝖘

briseis has brought her sons to hopefully get them some more time with their father.  and if that means she can snark at him even more, well, then that’s an added bonus.  her dress is simple and matter of fact, just like her- a structured, soft gray dress that matches the soft grey of her simple mask.

--𝖎𝖘𝖊𝖚𝖑𝖙

iseult is not here to play.  her first dress is red, to match her betrothed’s jacket, paired with a strip of red lace that ends in ribbons threaded through her curls.  her second dress is gold and feathered, paired with jeweled lace made of gold thread and an elaborate headpiece representing the rays of the sun.  she’s there to make an impression, especially as cassius’ bride to be, and she will not let him forget it.

[mklesbianlit]

Heroes and Hangers On

There are heroes and there are hangers-on. That’s me. Third wheel to the greatest heroes in the land. 

Hanging with the chosen ones is all very fun, until you realise you’re in love with one of them. I could never hope to deserve her, and it stings. Worse yet, she’s clearly destined for him. 

She’s kind. That’s what I love about her. She cares about making the world a better place. I could never carry the burden she does.

What I can do is help. Neither of them cares enough for themselves, and if I watch their backs, some part of this great adventure is mine. 

I feed the fire a few branches and sigh. Kayden and Anna are sparring with sticks, half in practice and half in jest. They hardly need the practice - we were attacked by zombies yesterday and their skills were as sharp as ever. 

She knocks the stick out of his hand, and brings her stick to his neck. They laugh together. There’s something about them together that’s very easy and free. It’s never easy for me when I’m near her. On top of the fire, dinner simmers in the pan that just yesterday I hit a zombie on the head with. One of my finer moments, really. It’s almost ready, the rabbit nearly cooked through. Anna and Kayden make their way over to the fire. 

“Smells amazing,” says Anna. “I always look forward to the nights when you cook - you’re better than either of us.” Kayden nods in agreement. I smile. 

I take the pan off the fire, and divide it up between our three plates. Rabbit is plentiful around here, but if it’s all you eat, your body won’t get enough fat. We’ll have to look for something else tomorrow. 

We all eat ravenously - using only our hands. The only utensil we have out here is my knife, and it’s more meant for stabbing than cutting. There is silence but for the sound of chewing. Long silences normally make me uncomfortable but in this case, I know it just means we’ve had a long day. 

After washing our hands in a nearby creek, it’s time for bed. I crawl into my furs. The night will be cold. She sleeps beside me, and Kayden next to her. It’s never easy for me to sleep. Kayden snores terribly. 

Anna sleeps fitfully. I hear her tossing and turning for half the night. She’s been troubled since the last undead creature she sent back to hell. From what little I’ve been able to get out of her, the zombie looked like her long-dead father. Of course, zombies can only be made from the newly dead and not old bones, but it shook her anyway. 

In the middle of the night, I hear her crying. I leave my furs and go to her, only to find that Anna is still asleep. I shake her lightly and then harder. Next to her, Kayden continues to snore. I see Anna’s eyes open.

“Bad dreams?” I ask. 

“Only the worst,” she replies, sitting up. “I don’t think I want to go back to sleep.” She wipes the tears off her face with her sleeve, and touches the sword at her side for reassurance. “Thank you for waking me up.”

“I couldn’t just leave you there like that,” I said. The light from the embers of the fire was reflected in her eyes. 

“Could I hug you?” she asks.” I just… need something solid. So I know I’m not still asleep.” And how can I deny her that. 

“Sure,” I say. And then she’s holding me tight and my heart is beating so hard in my chest I fear she may hear it. For a second while we’re parting, she rests her forehead against mine.

“I dreamed you were dead. That you came back as a zombie and I had to put you down,” she said quietly. Anna has lost a lot of people. Enough that even the death of someone like me would sting.

“Very much alive and not undead,” I reply. She chuckles quietly, reaches out and holds my hand in hers. One of the most difficult parts of being around this woman is that she’s affectionate. She always wants to touch and hold and hug. Every time it reminds me of how I feel for her.

“I worry about you, you know. You’re strong in so many ways, but not in the way that Kayden and I are. Our magic only protects us. And still you’re always trying to protect me.” I frown in the dark. I never mean to worry her. I squeeze her hand in mine.

“The most important thing is that the two of you survive. So we can find the necromancer and stop him from animating any more dead,” I say. She shakes her head in the moonlight. 

“I can handle myself, Lucky. But I don’t want to have to fight without you,” she says. I swallow. “Just… don’t go putting yourself in danger unnecessarily, okay?”

“We’re in danger all the time.” I say, trying to bargain.

“And all the time you put yourself in danger. Sometimes I think I’d feel better if Kayden and I just set you down in a town and came back for you when all this is over.” she says. It’s what I always worry about. That I will not be useful enough to keep going with her. 

“I’ll stop. Don’t just… get rid of me, okay?” I ask. Next to Anne, Kayden’s snores become even louder. I don’t know how he can make all that noise and not wake himself up.

“I don’t want to get rid of you. I just want you to be… as safe as possible given our situation.” she says. She’s squeezing my hand now. “You matter to me, okay? I don’t want to see you dead.” And then, she does something I never would have expected. She leans in close to me and brings her lips to mine. I pull back almost immediately.

“You shouldn’t kiss me,” I say. She cocks her head to the side. 

“Do you not want me to kiss you? I’m sorry if I’ve read this wrong. You can forget about this, we can wake up tomorrow morning and have everything be normal.” she offers quickly. She pulls her hand out of mine. 

“I desperately want you to kiss me. But you’re in love with Kayden. It wouldn’t be right.” I say. I want to tell her to kiss me again. But I couldn’t do that to him. 

“You, Lucky Perrymore, are an idiot. Have you ever seen me do anything more than friendly with him? Have I ever kissed him?” she asks. “That bard. In the last village. He sang songs about your love! You laughed!” I say, trying to understand. 

“I laughed because he was so wrong. Kayden laughed too. We’re not together. We’re close and people have always taken that for something it isn’t, but we’re not together. I love the man, but he’s just not my type. You’re my type.” she says. She kisses me again, and this time I kiss her back, softly. I’ve been so distracted by all this that I don’t notice that Kayden has stopped snoring.

“Did you two finally kiss? About time!” he crows. Anna laughs, her mouth inches from mine. I pull her into another hug. “Get some sleep lovebirds. We’ve got a long road ahead of us tomorrow. Maybe we’ll even find you two an inn!”

“Shut up, Kayden,” Anna says goodnaturedly. “But we should sleep,” she agrees.

I pull my furs close to Anna, and lie down next to her. She’s so warm. I don’t know if I’ll sleep tonight, but I know that if I did my dreams would be joyous.

[dreamertrilogys]

top 10 characters you'd like to be friends with!

AAAH THERES SO MANY OMGG ADKDNDJ

i wld lik 2 become bffs w emma carstairs solely for the CHAOS!! ADHSKDN

per see and anna beth,,,,

lila bard. need i explain?

OH YEAH ALEX AND NORA FROM RRWB FOR CHAOS TOO

OH!! OH FUCK HOWD I FORGET ! THE ENTORE GAGNSEY !!

also i wanna become friends w sharon carter thanks

i also wanna be friends w all the crOWS!! (as in soc not lietral birdys,,, asjdjdjdnej)

also i’d like 2 b friends w hermione granger sdkdndj

[cleoselene]

all these people in the Henry Cavill tag like “Henry’s not hot just Geralt” and I’m like I’m sorry but here u go:

https://www.lenscrafters.com/

Geralt is indeed very hot I do not deny it especially the way they tailor his pants but his hair is sorely in need of conditioner and he usually looks filthy

truth is Henry is always hot and Geralt is hot and Henry is hot and I’m sorry about y’all’s eyes

and it’s also possible for Joey Batey and Henry Cavill to be simultaneously hot??? like Joey is a young Jonny Lee Miller + Dungeons & Dragons spooky gotgh hot and Henry is beefcake nerd hot horse girl hot they are not mutually exclusive they’re both hot and Anya and MyAnna are also really hot like so is Anna Schafer like man this is a no uglies ALLOWED show have you taken a look at the new Witchers???

Vesemir’s hot too

this is basically a No Uglies show you don’t have to be like ONLY ONE GUY IS HOT EVEYRONE IS HOT LET’S NOT FORGET THESE TWO SMEXIES HOT HOT HOT

and that’s not even counting the dead ones and then there’s the bard yes

so let’s all enjoy the sexiness that is the Witcher and I’m sick of these SO AND SO ISN’T SEXY BUT X IS SEXY shit on my desk

THIS POST BROUGHT TO YOU BY HOT TRISS AND SABRINA AND YEN AND A TOUCH OF MY EVIL BAE FRINGELLA

WHO IS ALSO HOT 

EDIT HOW COULD I FORGET TISSAIA DE VRIES OH MY GOD

[c-is-for-circinate]

Ok, if I’m going to keep proper DM records for D&D on this tumblr, I need to actually write them.

Being An Account of Game #1: In Which Several Youth Attend A Party, And Some Experimental Magic Has Less Than Optimal Results

[all game logs thus far]

The Setting:  It is a Thursday night in the city of Karna Vi, called by many the last surviving bastion of the Trava Empire in Highnorth.  In the mostly student-inhabited districts around the University Karnassa, scholars are working, resting, eating, hanging out--and having parties.

More excitingly, there’s a classics major party tonight.  And it’s not just any classics majors.  It’s the self-styled Young Pre-Glorians.  In a society mostly built on a relatively even mix of human, gnome, and dwarf citizens, where humans are the unnecessarily tall people who don’t live nearly long enough to ever get really good at rulership or scholarship (though gods know you won’t find a more versatile, intense group of people in any species you can name), this little cluster of classics majors includes two humans, two tieflings, and a half-orc, all living in one slightly shabby student apartment.  Every single one of them is going to be dead before they’re a hundred.  Every single one of them is obsessed with figuring out how things worked at least 2000-4000 years ago.  And they party like it.

Our NPC hosts for the evening include Peary (a bubblegum-pink tiefling who makes historically accurate bathtub gin, and reconstructs ancient crafting methods from diary fragments and scraps, and den-mothers all the rest of her roommates with constantly chipper affection); Athenasi (or Athen, a human cleric of the Church of Lost Things made entirely out of sticks and paleness, who buries himself in ancient records trying to reconstruct the specific rituals used to properly worship long-mislaid gods); Riva (an enormous half-orc sportsball player and also wizard who mostly only bothers using spells to light his bonfires and translate dead languages, intent on uncovering the distant origins of magic as written ritual); Lisha (a human who got briefly campus-notorious last year when she reconstructed an ancient power-binding ritual well enough to actually summon an archdemon who hasn’t been seen in three millennia and somewhat incidentally get herself warlock powers); and Wren (a dark-skinned, gray-haired tiefling who knows very nearly everything there is to know about the politics and power struggles spanning half a continent and seven centuries, 5,000 years ago, and does not particularly care to know anything else).

These five like hands-on experimentation and practical research.  They’ve thrown historically-accurate parties in celebration of a dozen ancient forgotten holidays, with Peary’s bathtub gin to really make it work.  There’s rumors about an invitational-only orgy last year.  In short, their parties are the place to be if you’re the kind of nerd who likes to study hard and party harder.  Which...does not quite describe our PCs, but it’s a fun party to be at anyway.

Marion the human paladin has spent enough afternoons pouring through ancient records with fellow church acolyte Athen that they can’t really turn down the invite, even if Athen’s insistence on “you need to talk to other live people more than once a week!” is ridiculous and hyperbolic anyway.  Kevin the elf barbarian has been a cornerstone of the University sportsball team for ten years straight, and would never turn down a party invite from a teammate, let alone a party that looks as promising as this one.  Kou the halfling bard, who spends so much time with the music-majors half the university forgets she isn’t one, got invited along with her bard friends to be the entertainment.  

Gnome rogue Reigenleif, of course, is the beer supply.  Reigenleif is always the beer supply.

It’s a Thursday night, and a four-bedroom apartment with attached rooftop deck is crowded full of graduate students eating cheese, drinking a dozen different kinds of alcohol, and arguing about history.  Life is, for the moment, good.

The Hooks:

One by one, each of our PCs--vaguely familiar to one another, in a nodding-acquaintance sort of way, though nothing like the friends they’ll be by the end of the week, let alone the eventual end of this campaign--finds themselves tugged into conversation with an acquaintance.

First (in-game time, though we played these way out of order thanks to a handy d4), before the party even begins, Reigenleif heads down into Old Town to pick up some beer.  It’s one neighborhood over from the district of ancient, pre-Imperial ruins and thousand-year-old buildings where the University and its denizens live, so most students don’t know to come this far for good, cheap beer in the first place.  (Of course, even if they did they wouldn’t know to go where Reigenleif’s going.)

Her destination is a small bakery owned by two dwarven brothers and a sister.  Out the front, they sell excellent bread, with a very nice additional line in cakes and cupcakes.  Out the back, the middle dwarven brother Milosh acts as middle management for a smuggling ring that’s known in the right, quiet corners for its ability to get just about anything for anyone, given the right place.  Reigenleif runs errands on his say-so on weekends, in between avoiding her own research and helping out with everybody else’s.  Buying a few kegs of decent ale that hasn’t been marked up for tax, and then reselling it to thirsty college students, has basically been paying her rent for the past two years.

“How’s the family?” Milosh asks, and, “how’s that school thing going?”

“Eh,” says Reigenleif, and, “school’s school,” and, “parents still want me to go straight,” which isn’t even a pun because every player at the table is so generally disinterested in heteronormativity that it’s too easy to even bother with.

“You know,” Milosh says, “you really want to do more of this and less of that, could be Anna’s got a job for you.”

Anna’s not a real person--she’s been the code name for the leader of the smuggling ring for over a century, and given that her so-called last name literally means ‘human’, probably if there ever was a real Anna Cheloveko, she’s long dead now.  An Anna job might be hard, but it’ll pay, and then some.

The job, Milosh explains, isn’t too complicated.  There’s a certain package that needs to get to the city of Ormiras, and then past Ormiras a week or so’s travel up into the local mountains.  The contents of the package don’t matter, but with the strictures on the large industrial teleportation circles downtown, it’s unlikely to pass through without comment.  A University student, on the other hand, looking to do some research in the library of another University, could use one of their teleportation circles without anybody raising an eyebrow at their research materials, now, couldn’t they?  Grab a few friends to head with you up into the mountains, and when you come back down, there’d definitely be a job waiting--back here in Karna Vi, or with some of Anna’s friends in Ormiras.

(Reigenleif and her player go on a digression about bags of holding, immovable rods, and other magical items attempting to pass through teleportation circles, and then the potential of measuring continental drift with immovable rods over a long enough period of time.  Milosh raises his eyebrows and wonders if maybe Reigenleif should stick with those University-types after all.  This is about to prove extremely indicative of Reigenleif’s entire character.)

With that offer in mind, Reigenleif heads off, six kegs of ale for thirsty college students in hand.  This would be tricky for the average human, let alone a three-foot gnome, but Milosh lets her borrow the Bag of Holding for the job.  It’s no real risk.  He knows where Reigenleif lives.  He knows where her parents live.  She’s good for it.

Second, an hour or two into the swing of the party, Kevin and Riva are out on the roof deck supervising a cluster of increasingly tipsy party guests as they climb onto each others’ shoulders and attempt to joust with a couple of sportsball sticks.  The pair of them are taller than any two gnomes stacked together.  They are taller than nearly any gnome on top of any dwarf here.  They are taller than most double-stacked dwarves.  They make good referees.

They’re cleaning up some good-natured bruises and spilled beer when Kevin’s friend Poppy finds him.  She’s a half-elf, and barely as tall as his bicep.  She has dark curly hair, and smudged-up makeup, and she is already drunk.

“Kevin,” she says.  “Kevin, Kevin, look.  Can I ask you a favor?  Can I beg you a favor?  Please?”

Poppy is in Kevin’s cohort in the art history department--they started with the same incoming class, ten years ago.  You don’t really graduate out of university, in the Nine Cities.  You study until you get hired into a professorship or government position, or you run out of money, take a lesser job, and quit.  Poppy’s dad is an elf, with plenty of resources to throw in her general direction.  She hasn’t run out of money yet.  Ten years is a lot longer for a half-elf like Poppy than it is for Kevin.

Poppy says, “if I don’t do something big, I will never get hired, ever.  I will never amount to anything.”  She says, “I know there are Glorian-era ruins on the Iris Peninsula that haven’t been found.  I know there’s something there.”  She says, “I know there are elven aesthetic motifs in Glorian-era Irissan fragments.  Seven hundred years before elves ever made it to this continent.  If I go, I can prove it.  It will matter.  It will mean something.”

“You grew up on Iris,” she says.  “And you’re good at hitting things.  Right?”

It’s been 512 years since the Elven Ascendancy broke their isolation and sailed forth into the world for the first time in six millennia.  Five centuries since the very first elves set foot on the continent of Nokomoris.  The Glorian Empire conquered half the Iris Peninsula, and was driven out, and collapsed, a thousand years ago.  Not a single soul under Glorian rule had ever even heard of elves.  And sure, elves live on the Iris Peninsula now--in the cities, like proper elves, in shining tall buildings with a lovely background view of the tangled wilderness where they never, ever go.  Elvish art in Glorian-era ruins?  It would upend everything anybody knew about history.  It would be huge.

“It would probably make my parents really happy if I tried to do a big art history thing instead of focusing on sportsball so much,” Kevin muses.  “Sure, I know people.  We can probably put an expedition together.  I bet my parents would be happy with that.”

(Kevin and his player do sound enthusiastic about the idea of getting some good research and publishable papers, which tells this DM a lot I didn’t already know about his priorities.  Sure, he likes sportsball, but getting an actual job in art history would make his parents happy.  Kevin says ‘that would probably make my parents happy’ like it’s the only long-term life goal he’s ever bothered assuming he probably needs.)

Third, Kou and her band take a set break.

Lio’s been switching between singing and rocking out on the zither, because even in a cluster of bards, Lio makes a good frontwoman.  She’s a tall dwarf, dark hair, dark clothes, dark eyeliner, dark everything.  She’s a star in the music department, a cornerstone of student activities committees, a manic pixie overachiever, a goth anarchist who knows exactly what’s wrong with the world today, the artificial urban-wilderness divide that’s been imposed on society in the new century, the problems of traditional religion and modern capitalism.  She’s a level 3 bard.  She’s got a townie boyfriend in one of the local guilds who doesn’t mind when she makes out with boys, girls, and everything else on offer at parties.  She is, without question, the coolest person Kou knows.

Lio is drinking water and also taking a couple of shots of Peary’s bathtub liquor, and Kou is hanging out and watching the party, and Lio sighs.

“You want to get out of here?” she asks.  “Not tonight, I mean--the whole University conspiracy.  Just go.”

“Yes,” Kou says, instantly on board without a single detail.  Her girlfriend has been gone for three weeks.  Her body is ready.  Her entire everything is ready.  “When?  Where’re we going?”

“We could totally make it as bandits out by Zakri,” Lio says.  “You know they’ve been doing all kinds of weird construction stuff along the main road between the two seas, trying to restart the canal project, and the main road’s been in shambles for months.  I have a total plan.  We could camp out along one of the smaller roads and take out caravans, be bandits, live like queens.  It’d be great.”

“Yes,” Kou says again.  “Absolutely.  I’m in.  I know some healing stuff, and I have a pocketknife.  Let’s do it.”

(Kou asks precisely zero questions about where, or how, or why, or even who, for the entire conversation.  I knew this would be the case by halfway through session 0, and I am delighted to be proven right.  Kou is ready for absolutely everything and absolutely nothing.  It’s going to be great.)

“Hmm, but we’d probably need more people,” Lio muses, in that way people do when they remember all the practical reasons they’re mostly joking about quitting their job and running away to live in the woods.  “Unless you know how to use a sword.”

“I know some people!” Kou says.  “Let me see who I can talk to.  We can totally do this.”

Fourth, Athen takes a break from circling around the party with an eye out for any serious injuries or alcohol poisoning risk to find Marion in the kitchen, eating cheese and arguing about historical probability and textual interpretation with Wren.  They’re having just about as much fun as an antisocial math nerd with a special interest in history can have at a party full of academics who also have a special interest in history--which is kind of a lot, come to think of it.

The party is loud and boisterous, so they head to Athen’s tiny closet of a bedroom to chat.  There’s something he needs to talk about, and Marion’s a good enough friend to listen.

“So you’ve been talking about doing some fieldwork,” Athen says.  “Have you thought about going west?”

Athen’s family lives west of Karna Vi, in the wide highland plains of the Highnorth, where there’s nothing for miles but cattle, a few sheep, a lot of rye and oats, and the occasional potato field.  In his grandfather’s day, they were part of the Trava Empire, and that was fine.  Theoretically their village doesn’t belong to anyone but themselves, now, and they farm as best they can, and sell what surplus they can at the closest big trade-town to someone who carts it into Karna Vi and sells it to city bakers and and housewives and leatherworkers, and it’s fine too, mostly, except for when it’s not.

Lately it’s not, so much.  The Uvencatra Empire in the western mountains has been making some motions towards marching eastward across the plains, and they’re eyeing the region Athen’s family is from next.  He’s concerned.  He’s really concerned.  He’s maybe about to drop out of school concerned.

“You know how to fight things,” Athen says.  “And maybe you’d find things over there, in the Western Orthodox church records.  I can go home and help heal people, but I don’t know how to protect them.”

“Oh, I am not the right member of my family for this,” Marion frets, and Athen frowns.

“Would any of the rest of them care?” he asks.

“Point,” Marion agrees.

(They’ve got a quiet monotone the whole time, slow to assemble sentences except when they start contemplating the actual possibilities of research within the Uvencatra Orthodox churches, spilling out hypotheses and jargon like water.  Marion’s player has degrees in anthropology.  Marion cares about Athen’s problems, but has no real thoughts about them.  Marion has thoughts about historical research.)

“Let me think about it,” Marion says, and the party goes on.

The Fight

By dawn, most of the party has cleared out, though not quite all of it.  A couple of failed Con saves mean that Kou is dozing in a chair in the living room, not quite with it enough to notice the rest of the band leaving, and Marion is passed out cold in Athen’s bed alone.  Reigenleif has spent most of the party hanging off to the side, watching people and occasionally scooping up anything that appears to maybe be a weapon that’s been carelessly left sitting around, tucking it into the Bag of Holding just to make sure this party doesn’t go sideways in a nasty way; she can’t leave until the kegs are given back over into her keeping, so she might as well help clean up.

Kevin, out on the deck, has not actually realized the party has ended yet.  He’s only just beginning to notice the lack of people as the first rays of sunlight creep over the city, and a very loud bang sounds from the top of the roof.

It jolts Kou dozily awake and Marion tumbles onto the floor in an instant.  Kevin and Reigenleif, already outside along with Riva, look up just in time to see the outlines of Wren and Lisha on the roof in the pale morning sun, alongside some billowing smoke and two cat-sized things skittering along the roof tiles in acid green.

Then Wren falls off the roof to the deck and takes so much damage in a ten-foot fall that her scrawny little NPC self ends up unconscious.  Then combat begins.

There’s a flutter and a flurry as the quasits on the roof hiss at everyone and skitter away.  Initiative is nobody’s friend, and fighting something ten feet above everyone’s head isn’t easy, but Reigenleif upends her entire bag of holding and sends a pile of belt knives, a couple of blunt-ended reproduction historical weapons, and a fancy letter opener skittering out over the desk, and hides behind a convenient barrel.  Riva grabs a sportsball stick.  Kou has enough movement to rush out onto the deck just in time to see Lisha fall; “Oh, fuck!” is now the official incantation for her Healing Word, and Wren is safe, although not very happy.

Kevin tries to intimidate the quasits, all six-foot-seven of burly elf growling directly at them, and it actually works on one.  The intimidated quasit instantly turns into a bat and swoops off through an open window into the living room to Get Away.  The other quasit, annoyed at the attempt, casts Fear on Kevin in retaliation.  It is super effective.

Marion makes it out to the living room, wearing no armor but carrying the heaviest candlestick she could grab, just in time to see an acid-green bat swoop through the window and start destroying things.  It’s very early and she is probably slightly hungover but also she’s a good researcher and knows what a quasit looks like, so she whacks it.  It bites her, poison and all--make that definitely pretty hungover.

Athen made it outside around the same time as Kou, and has been trying to heal people who need it as Riva tries to whack at a tiny demon on his roof, Kevin attempts to cower behind a gnome, and Reigenleif and Kou both throw things.  Kevin succeeds in a wisdom save after another round or two, and manages to do some good thwacking damage.  The quasit turns into a foot-long centipede in an attempt to escape, and skitters along the wall through the door into the house, before Kou Cutting Words’s it to death.

Lisha tries to jump off the roof to get down and help, and sprains her ankle.  Athen is already inside giving Marion a hand, and none of the PCs seem inclined to help.

Between Marion and Athen, the second quasit goes down relatively quickly.  The first one has already disappeared into nothingness, and the second one follows soon behind.  Marion lay-on-hands’es themself, and drinks some water, because they have utterly forgotten that quasits have venom at all and damn, this hangover.  The nauseous feeling passes after a minute or so, anyway.  Athen goes outside to heal Lisha, Peary appears from her own room wanting to know what the hell is going on out here, Kou is jumping between ‘I insulted it and it died and I’m real cool!’ and, ‘did my entire band just ditch me here because I fell asleep?’, and everything is equally as chaotic as it was in the middle of the fight, when the knock sounds on the door.

The Head of Campus Housing brought security with him, and he’s not happy.

The Aftermath

Marion pulls rank and some excellent persuasion checks to keep the entire set of Young Pre-Glorians from getting evicted right now, and everybody else in the room from being put on housing probation.  Marion lives with their parents on the other side of the city, or, more accurately, in the library--housing probation doesn’t mean much to them, but it does matter to everyone else.

Lisha, apparently, was attempting to use the limnal nature of sunrise, sitting over a party that both was and was not a party any longer, with people below who were drunk, and dreaming, and no longer drunk, on a day of particular celestial configuration, to do some magic experimentation, because obviously.  Wren wanted a familiar.  Lisha could totally use a ritualistic setup to cast a spell she isn’t high enough level for and doesn’t actually know, and also alter it to bind to somebody that isn’t even her, and make it work.  Maybe not today, but probably next time, right?

The PC’s are somewhat annoyed with Lisha, but also agree that the university just does not have enough ritual magic experimentation labs, and that really needs to be corrected.  They also figure that, housing probation or no, it’s maybe not a bad time to get out of town for a bit.  They’re good at fighting things together!  They’ve got some options!

They toss some ideas around--Kou’s option involves banditry, and Marion’s pretty sure they’re not allowed to do that, but Reigenleif’s has, like, three weeks in the mountains, and that sounds pretty awful too.  Athen and Poppy both need help, and they’re both friends--Kou doesn’t care where they go, and Reigenleif is up for whatever sounds interesting.  Poppy’s research trip sounds like a good way to make the university like them, which after this display might be particularly useful.

In the end, the decision comes down to Marion, who’s happy to help people but is mostly only considering either of these treks as a road to more god-research, to help define the variables to determine the maximum number of gods the Church of Lost Things still has to discover.  There’s a western orthodox church in the Uvencatra Empire, out past where Athen’s family lives, and they could have all sorts of records and knowledge that Marion doesn’t...but nobody knows what the hell is going on in the Iris Peninsula.  The entire place is apparently a forest, and that means people don’t travel it much for some reason?  It’s all sort of unclear and difficult to understand from this side of the continent.  So what the heck, Poppy’s thing it is.

Poppy is somewhat taken aback to be woken up slightly hungover at 10 AM by Kevin and also a random human knocking on her dorm room door to tell her that yes, they and two other people she’s never met are in for her expedition, and also can they leave tomorrow please?  But also sure.  Why not.  These things happen when you ask Kevin for help.  She’ll talk to her advisor to push those expedition grant funds through, and they’ll leave on Monday.  Maybe let’s have lunch or dinner this afternoon?  After Kevin and Marion sleep?

Reigenleif, meanwhile, takes Kou along to return the bag of holding and empty kegs to Milosh, in the hopes that having a highly charismatic good-persuasion bard along might just increase their chances of persuading Milosh to let them keep the Bag of Holding for this journey.  Little does she know that, while Kou is fun and delightful and good at persuasion, she’s also an awkward flailer who doesn’t entirely understand what they’re supposed to be convincing Milosh of in the first place, and has no proficiency in deception whatsoever.

The conversation stumbles and bobbles a bit, before Reigenleaf gets to the meat of the situation: they’re not going to Ormiras, but does Anna maybe need something delivered or picked up from another of the Nine Cities?  Perhaps something on Iris?  Like, say...

“Cloud Bay,” Reigenleif says, naming the only city on the Iris Peninsula she can remember at 7 AM on zero sleep, which is unfortunately not the same one Poppy mentioned to Kevin earlier.

“Cloud Bay?” Milosh says.  “Shitty weather and elves?  What’re you going there for?”

In an attempt to leverage her higher Deception score over Persuasion, Reigenleif starts to spin a relatively believable lie about engineering research and her own degree work.  Unfortunately, she doesn’t roll particularly well.  More fortunately, or perhaps more unfortunately still, Milosh doesn’t actually care ‘why Cloud Bay’, aside from as a rhetorical question, so it’s not particularly useful in any case.

“Look,” Milosh says.  “Let me talk to Anna about Cloud Bay.  Check back in tomorrow or Sunday, maybe we have a job for you there, maybe not.  A’right?”

They snag a couple of muffins on the way out.  Kou feels a little useless, but so be it.  Marion crashes in Kevin’s room, since he just needs a corner to meditate in anyway, and everyone naps until the meet-with-Poppy time in the evening.

The Campaign Plan

Poppy is just a little taken aback at the new crew she seems to’ve acquired, but she’s ready to go and they’re game, so, sure.  Let’s do this.

She elaborates a little on what she told Kevin, in some angles, and says less in others.  The Glorian Empire, as some of the party know better than others, stretched out from here in Karna Vi across most of the Attiks Sea and around the continent.  They sped the civilization in the Midlands, they spread the Eight Churches throughout the continent, they founded cities, they built roads.  They founded Port Charé on the coast of the heavily-forested Iris Peninsula and began to build in, cutting trees and building roads and forts and towns as they went.  Kera the Conqueror, famed emperor, oversaw the expansion across easily half of Iris, naming literally everything after himself as he went.

Iris was hard to conquer, and the Empire began to pull out not long after Kera died.  They left ruins and roads, and the people of Port Charé, who’d lived in this city for two centuries at this point and were not about to move back to the other side of the sea, even if this was going to be the only bastion of civilization for a thousand miles.  There was a working road to Ormiras.  They’d manage.

As for those ruins, deep into Iris--who knows what’s there?

Sober and in front of three strangers, Poppy doesn’t say anything about pre-Elven Incursion elven aesthetics.  It doesn’t really matter, because Kevin told everybody everything, but some things are just too historically improbable to admit you believe.

“So,” says Poppy.  “Are you in?  I can get grant funds and our travel paperwork Monday morning.  We circle into Port Charé and follow the roads as far as they go.  I have an old map, Imperial-era.  We can find things nobody’s seen in hundreds of years.”

The party doesn’t need to ask each other.  They’re in.  They all know they’re in.

Six months on an archaeological expedition in a forest for four city kids, three of whom have never seen anything more than a single ten-acre orchard in their lives?

Oh yeah.  Total piece of cake.