#(Kirsi 1)

[humanoidtyphoons]

lucia: i can’t leave kirsi alone with ricon

not to be unsympathetic lucia, but you have done so for so long. you can’t fully commit to trusting kirsi since the beginning, but you still love and care for her. and yes i am into the fractured relationship you two have, and how messy it’s gotten, but like.

you have chosen, repeatedly, to separate yourself from kirsi. so now when you try to get close to kirsi, you are obstructed by ricon. you have less chances to be with kirsi, but the relationship is fraying that now you’re even more on edge with kirsi bc you fear kirsi siding over ricon than you, and your complaints/warnings sound like sour grapes.

it is nice to see lucia be protective of kirsi, despite the fallout, but as long as she wavers, and cannot fully trust kirsi, then they are stuck in a stalemate where lucia expects better of kirsi and will not explain why

i’ve seen smallville!!! i know how this ends!!! regardless of how badly the tv show botched things up!!!

[yubriamakesart]

Birthday Tournament Round 1

[snowshinobi]

the way Suitor Armor does reveals is so incredibly good. Everybody has a secret and everybody has secrets revealed to them—sometimes by choice, sometimes not. This includes the audience! We know of Lucia's fairy parentage long before her friends do. But the moment where she glamours her pointy ears into rounded human ones, minutes before a powerful adversary insists she show her ears to prove her humanity? That reveal is as nerve-wracking for us as it is for Modeus. Kirsi comments that, though she and Lucia have known each other their whole lives, Lucia never fully lets her in. So it is with us. Lucia is our main character, our primary viewpoint into this world from page 1, yet she holds us at a distance too. The stakes are so high for her that she breaks narrative convention.

When Lucia says she doesn't know what to do next, I believe her—and I don't. While her anguish is genuine, the Lucia I've come to know over the course of these increasingly dire reveals is a woman who always thinks ahead. It's a survival instinct trained into her since childhood. She keeps her cards close to her chest because she can't trust anyone, and I know why—I've SEEN why.

It's this distance Lucia holds between herself and us that, ironically, makes me trust her. Lady considers the repercussions her next step will have on her friends individually and for the collective perception of fairykind. Same goes for us. Lucia doesn't show the audience everything because she wants to control the narrative. So many choices have been taken from her. This is her story, and she's finally got enough agency to decide how to tell it. She can't guarantee where it goes, but she sure as hell can decide how ... that destination gets ... REVEALED!

It's just like she told Modeus after he spoke for the first time. It's his decision who he does and doesn't speak to, what he does and doesn't say. Lucia takes her own advice and sharpens it. And baby, I hope Lord Ricon gets cut real deep. Real deep.

[vacantgodling]

affinities and sopiros are the super glue to my wips!!!!!!!!!!!!! 🤪🤪🤪

i’m just gonna copy and paste a word vomit i went on and maybe clean it up to make more sense. but tldr affinities and sopiros are the main driving forces behind the wips in this shared “same continent” universe. because the continent doesn’t have a name (yet?) i’ll just list the current wips in it:

paramour (the fall of galeré series) // alizath // ph // teardrops of the gods // cult of the pale moon messiah // red death & the oracle’s favor

but that’s not in chronological order—because these wips don’t take place at the same time; sometimes hundreds of years removed from one another. the VERY TENTATIVE order i have currently (the middle is fuzzy but) is:

ph -> red death -> teardrops / pale moon messiah (i can see them happening around similar times tbh) -> alizath -> paramour (tfog)

but now that that’s kind of (barely cough) explained—here is my rant:

a lot of the way things have changed is in terms of how magic and the “supernatural” have evolved.

there’s no true origin of where mystical things have fully come from in this world but (i) will tell you that it’s main origin is actually up north in tsokhizhe’s country’s mountains (PH)—which is inhabited by the northern bands actually. their concept of magic is much more… vague.

to them essentially spirits/god/magic are all kinda rolled up into a thing they know as “affinities” they’re forces of nature as they are actual deities as they are spirits like. they’re everything supernatural all at once p much. in the northern bands, how they view it; these affinities are able to siphon off and grant a peak or a small mastery into certain aspects of their magic, which is actually how northern band clans derive individual names. gin’s name, for instance, is an offshoot of dark affinity, meaning specifically the magic associated with “the stillness of the dark” — meanwhile his father is demon-geke, which is “the brightness of the morning rays”, or a light affinity. there’s many more BUT basically people like these two, and zhonyi (an animal affinity; zhonyi means “bird”) are what the southern bands know as sopiros or, heretics. but for us, we would describe it as “witch”.

then a few hundred years later, we get alizath and how their witches (which are offshoots and descendants of sopiros) work. witches in alizath are interesting because they have only (1) ability (for the most part) but there is a COST to using it.

for example, the st. jora’s witch is a woman named mistral and she has telepathy (which is a far cry from the mostly nature related magic that sopiros had in the past); however, she is not able to speak her own thoughts—so her magic has literally made her mute. they get around this with a in house signed language that she can use to communicate with others, but YEAH. the reason for why witches have this restriction is a bit… unknown. tbh. meaning i have yet to find a reason PFF.

if i haaaad to think of one it’s probably because as humans began to study magic as a practice in its own, they came upon limitations because it had begun to deviate from the original affinities’s powers. telepathy, premonition, etc, none of those are based in “nature” tho can be achieved through study (since it’s possible to achieve through study, a different character, greye will become a witch in this way). but a born witch is different. and (spoilers ig) kirsi, a half witch (or half sopiro) is different. for sopiros, like zhonyi, the magic is inherent to them and in their veins—there is no “limitation” to its power but the only people like that known about in alizath so removed from tsokhizhe’s country, are half-witches. which are Explicitly banned SO—

EITHER WAY THO, if i take you to red’s story in red death & the oracle’s favor; red and hel are similar to the witches of alizath where their powers have limitations, but unlike the witches of alizath they are much stronger due to being born that way. it’s sort of a transition period from ph’s country as magic seeps into the populous of certain areas and diversifies.

this wip also brings up affinities coming to dwell on the continent

the entire chamber from paramour, the “vampire” in cult of the pale moon messiah, and even the auspicious and mysterious sea glass from teardrops of the gods i’d pretty much say are all affinities that have taken on more physical forms to dwell on earth. they are VASTLY different than one another because affinities cannot be contained by the limits of the human mind and understanding. sea glass is “technically” an inanimate object that grants those who use it vast powers with adverse side effects; the wolf queen is similar to the chamber where she also represents a “concept” that feeds but also has a more animalistic edge as an older affinity.

tbh i could go on but this ramble is a mess and not fully thought out yet because the plots of some of these wips are very up in the air. BUT. it was a good word vomit i wanted to share :)

[numberonepeacock]

Chapters: 14/? Fandom: Danny Phantom, Young Justice (Cartoon) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Danny Fenton & Ella Fenton, Danny Fenton & Ella Fenton & Jazz Fenton, Danny Fenton & Ella Fenton & Sam Manson, Danny Fenton & Ella Fenton & Tucker Foley, Danny Fenton & Ella Fenton & Animals, Danny Fenton & Ella Fenton & Dick Grayson, Tim Drake & Danny Fenton & Ella Fenton, Danny Fenton & Ella Fenton & Damian Wayne, Danny Fenton & Ella Fenton & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson Characters: Danny Fenton, Ella Fenton, Sam Manson, Tucker Foley, Jazz Fenton, Maddie Fenton, Jack Fenton, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, Barbara Gordon, Stephanie Brown, Alfred Pennyworth, Cujo (Danny Phantom), Kirsi/Oc, Vlad Masters, Skulker (Danny Phantom), Johnny 13 (Danny Phantom), Dash Baxter Additional Tags: Phantom Twins, Fenton Twins, Female Danny Fenton, Ice core, Ice Powers, not a gender-bend, Ella has some anger issues, but is just like a loving mother, but seriously don’t mess with her, that warning is for you Skulker, read 'Phantom and the Knight’, Rewrite of savya398’s 'Phantom and the Knight', Pictures are not mine, Both Ella and Damian love animals, Ella has too many pets Summary:

After two years Danny and Ella Fenton finally felt like they're getting this whole superhero thing under control. So of course something had to come along and ruin everything.  

Ok, so this is a rewrite of savya398’s 'Phantom and the Knight', now renamed 'Phantoms and the Knight'. Before you ask, no this is not a gender-bend story and will recommend that you read 'Phantom and the Knight' first but that’s just me. I have a little obsession with making Danny a twin (a born twin not a made twin). In this story, we find out that the Fentons are not Ella and Danny’s real parents.

I am only going up to where she (or he) left it off, I will not make an alternative ending. If you are the author and are reading this, I hope I'm not being disrespectful for not contacting you first, but I really love your story. So I wanted to do this. 

[esta-elavaris]

Flufftober Day 5: X+ 1 ~ Brynjolf/F!Dragonborn [6,164 words]

Three times Brynjolf wondered just who Kirsi was, and one time he found out.

It's 2023 and I'm writing all these words about Brynjolf from Skyrim. Unreal. I can't even explain the word count. It started as a quick flufftober fill and spiralled into this monster. Filled with a hefty dose of humour at how absurd the Dragonborn's travelling companions must find it when they have fifty thousand different careers and excel at them all.

My Flufftober '23 masterpost can be found here 💜✨

It was Brynjolf’s business to be able to take the measure of someone – quickly. It was no good risking being caught with his hand in some poor bugger’s pocket if that bugger was, well, poor. Not that he was ever caught, not since he was a lad, but it was the principle of the thing. The potential risk had to be outweighed by the potential reward, that was just good business, and he was a good businessman.

But Kirsi? It was a funny thing that the more he saw of her, the less it seemed he knew. She’d strolled into Riften with a bow and blade both far finer than the worn fur armour she sported, which could have meant two things. Either she could afford to heed her armour less because by the time the enemy saw her, it was too late – or the bow and blade were stolen, and the armour reflected the truth of her finances. The truth turned out to be both. Which, as far as recruitment was concerned, was perfect. Maybe the signs had been there since day one that she’d end up running their little outfit.

Unfortunately – infuriatingly – that was the last time Brynjolf had managed to successfully gauge much of anything about the Nord lass who infiltrated his thoughts more and more with each passing month. From then on, the only sure thing about her was that she could, and would, produce results. Flitting in and out of the Ragged Flagon with ill-gotten goods in her hands, a smile on her face, and…blood in her hair. Usually.

The first time, Brynjolf commented upon it, asking vaguely if she recalled their rule regarding bloodshed. She’d blinked at him, followed his gaze, and responded with an ‘oh – no, that’s unrelated, don’t worry’ before making a joke about how it blended in with the colour very nicely anyway. And that had been that. Skyrim was a demanding place in which to live, and those who’d never had blood in their hair seldom lasted long, so it wasn’t a major cause for concern.

No, Brynjolf’s cause for concern came months later – long after Kirsi had been made master of the guild, no less. They saw less of her for a while, but that was her way. That was the way with plenty here, even. Folk always turned up eventually, with a story to tell and something to sell to Tonilia, more often than not. This absence stretched on a little longer, yes, but it hadn’t even occurred to Brynjolf to really worry until she did turn up again. And she seemed in no mood for storytelling.

The Ragged Flagon went gradually silent as she walked in. Brynjolf, his usually keen senses off-duty, noticed the silence before he noticed her, turning to see what everybody else was staring at and then stilling. Kirsi strode in, steadfastly avoiding the eyes of any who looked in her direction. She wore her Nightingale armour, but it was not so form-fitting as it once had been, bunching and baggy here and there suggesting a sudden and unhealthy amount of thinning that a jagged sharpness at her jaw and cheekbones confirmed. Her auburn hair had once been bound back into a complicated series of braids, but it had long since rebelled against it, most of it curling in whisps around her face, and she was sporting a new and very angry looking scar on said face.

It ran from her right temple all the way down to her chin, framing the side of her features in a sort of jagged crescent moon.

“Kirsi…” Brynjolf said, stunned.

“I can’t discuss business right now,” she said flatly, her voice hoarse.

He hadn’t intended to discuss business…but he supposed he deserved it. He’d been avoiding her before she left, and it seemed she’d noticed. Unsurprisingly. Brynjolf fell silent, watching as she turned her head in the direction of Galathil who sad in her usual place, lifting a hand absentmindedly to the scar that they all stared at. Ultimately, she appeared to think better of it. Instead, she dropped a weighty bag of gold down onto the bar, loaded her arms up with bottles of mead, and headed for the cistern without another word.

“What was that?” Vex was the one to break the silence.

“I dunno,” Delvin responded grimly. “But she didn’t even look like that when Mercer…”

There was little need for him to elaborate on that. Brynjolf’s lips set into a thin line, then he counted to twenty, and finally he followed.

Kirsi was at her bed when he entered the cistern, not bothering to hunker behind the screen as she changed – not unusual, few of them here bothered with modesty. And the looks she was drawing were more to do with shock and dismay than anything that might be considered leering. Already she was halfway out of her Nightingale armour, and Brynjolf could see that there was little of her from the neck down that was not badly, badly bruised. Or burned. Or littered with gashes that looked one wrong twist away from reopening.

Whatever healing she’d undergone, be it from potions of magic, it appeared she’d prioritised them to heal her face. That, or they’d all been much worse beforehand. It was hard to gauge the state of her armour thanks to the colour, but he suspected if he took a real look, he’d find it stained badly with blood.

"Wouldn’t you be more comfortable at Honeyside?” he asked – if only to stop himself standing and staring like a fool any longer.

“Am I not welcome here?”

“You know that’s not what I meant, lass.”

At her home in the city – which she would’ve had to bypass to get here, no less – her bed was bigger, and she had a housecarl who could help her. Not that those here wouldn’t, but she didn’t seem to be in the mood for their company. It would be less stifling for her, he suspected, accepting help from one whose sworn duty was to offer it.

“Nobody can find me here,” she said finally.

After several deep breaths. Brynjolf couldn’t quite figure whether they were against whatever pain she was feeling, or just an attempt to find the patience for a conversation. She was wound tight, it was plain as day as she kicked her armour under the bed now that she was stripped down to her smalls, before she pulled a shirt over her head. There seemed to be little intention of finding breeches to go with it.

“…Are people looking for you, lass?”

People who had done this? There was a dangerous, angry streak in Brynjolf that hoped they’d come here looking. They’d regret it sorely.

“No,” she shook her head. “Just don’t want to be found.”

She paused, then, pinching the bridge of her nose and sighing. “There’s just…there’s always something else. Can’t be dealing with it now.”

Brynjolf stilled, lost for words. Then he asked quietly.

“Do you need anything, lass?”

“Just sleep,” she said quietly.

What in the name of Talos had she gotten into? Where was it that she disappeared to so frequently? Who was she?

Kirsi slept for three days – stirring here and there to sit up and down a bottle of mead, or to turn over in a slow and beleaguered fashion that left nobody in any doubt as to how sorely she felt her injuries – but otherwise, she was out cold. The same conversation was had over and over in that time.

She needs a healer.

She is a healer.

I don’t think she has the strength to heal herself more.

Could someone carry her up above to get her help?

I don’t think she’d allow it.

Could we bring someone down here to look her over? Someone that won’t blab?

I don’t think she’d allow that, either.

Ultimately, Thrynn looked her over…with all of his limited healing knowledge, gleaned here and there from his days of patching himself up amidst bouts of banditry. Kirsi didn’t seem to notice it much. The unease in Brynjolf’s stomach gnawed deeper.

She’s more exhausted than injured, he ultimately concluded.

It didn’t cheer them much. Then, on the fifth day, she rose. The signal was given by Vipir, who strolled through the Flagon whistling a jaunty little tune, and Brynjolf was moving swiftly thereafter. Ignoring the looks that followed him. He entered the cistern expecting to find her sitting up, or maybe at the little cavern that they designated as a kitchen. Instead she was up, she was dressed, and the contents of her pack were strewn across her bed as she methodically took inventory for the trip ahead. Wherever that would be.

Brynjolf felt alarm streak through him – very much not liking the prospect of her barrelling off into the unknown after worrying them all sick for the better part of a week.

“What happened to your dagger, lass?” he asked rather than voicing any of that.

Ever since she’d commissioned it from Balimund, he’d never seen her parted from it.

“Lost it,” she muttered sourly.

“Where?”

She could have that thing wrenched out of her hand and flung into the Sea of Ghosts and she’d go diving in after it.

“Sovngarde,” she grunted.

Not in the mood for serious conversation, then.

“When are you heading out?”

“Why? Are you coming with me?”

Brynjolf made a very quick, very impulsive decision then.

“If I’m invited.”

Stilling, she turned her head and stared at him for a few long moments.

“You’re being serious?” she asked, tone unreadable.

“Things here can keep for a while,” he shrugged. “I trust the others to stop the place from burning down in my absence.”

And it was far, far better than torturing himself wondering what she was up to and how she was doing, should she leave alone.

“And you wouldn’t just rather speak another time?”

Brynjolf forced a strained laugh. “I deserve that.”

Kirsi tilted her head as if in agreement. Then, finally, she sighed.

“Don’t wear your Guild armour. Don’t pack light, either. I don’t know how long I’ll be this time,” she said, watching as he nodded along. “And Brynjolf? You have to listen to me while we’re out there. If I say no…extra-curricular activities in a certain hold, I mean it.”

“We did well enough together at Irkngthand, didn’t we?”

She considered his words for a long moment, with eyes that he knew had sussed out many a foe, and then finally she nodded.

“Fine. We leave after midday.”

“We leave,” he countered, “once you’ve eaten something.”

That earned another sigh, but it was followed by another nod, and Brynjolf took it as a good sign that she listened to him.

Stepping out into the world again felt like a gradual lightening for Kirsi. Even with the worried looks Brynjolf kept pretending he very much was not sending in her direction. They stopped at Honeyside just long enough for her to switch out weapons, stock up on potions, and for Iona to fix her new travelling companion with a withering glare, and then they were out of Riften.

She didn’t know why she’d agreed to let him come along. Well, she did know, she just wasn’t a massive fan of said reasoning. This was the first time he hadn’t given her the brush-off in months, and even in her exhaustion and the numbness that had overtaken her since defeating Alduin, she didn’t want to squander whatever chance there might’ve been for things to go back to normal between them.

…and she was at least present enough to know that weeks spend wandering and camping on her own would do little to help her mental state, at present. Maybe she could’ve hired someone to watch her back and provide civil conversation, but she also didn’t want to shoulder the responsibility of that. Brynjolf had asked to come along, and so his hide was therefore his own concern.

Being out and moving felt good, though, and with every stray breeze that caught her hair and every birdsong that met her ears, she felt more like her old self. Maybe she just needed to be reminded that it was all still here. When they set up camp for the night, she was even laughing when Bryn went out of his way to try and make her do so…although she knew just how dour she must’ve been since her return when she saw how surprised he was to get any sort of response at all.

“I’m not asking that you tell me now, lass,” he hedged when dinner was eaten and there was little to do but doze by the fire ‘til morning came. “But I have to know…are you going to tell me what happened?”

“Probably not,” she admitted quietly.

And he accepted it readily enough. Or hid well, if he did not. Well, save for one comment, spoken incredibly lightly.

“I dread to think what’s so salacious and sinister that even I can’t be told about it.”

She snorted quietly, staring at the stars above. “It’s not salacious. Nor sinister. It’s just…a lot.”

Keeping her countless lives separate was something she always endeavoured to do, all while being painfully aware that bits and pieces were bound to crash in on one another at some point. This wasn’t like keeping a spouse and a lover secret from one another, it was bigger and more all-encompassing than that. She toed the line between doing what she could to keep those boundaries in place, while staying detached enough that she wouldn’t fall to pieces should the lines in the sand be erased by a crashing wave.

It was just…neater. The guild had to stay secret for obvious reasons – she could only imagine what Vilkas or Ulfric would think if they saw her slipping into the Ragged Flagon and making all sorts of underhanded deals with her friends down there. She could even kid herself that it was easier for the guild if they didn’t know about any of the rest of it. That maybe they’d balk if they realised their Guild Master was the Dragonborn, or Ulfric’s best soldier, Thane of too many holds to count, or even Archmage of Winterhold’s college. All those titles didn’t particularly lend themselves to secrecy.

But that wasn’t why she kept it from Brynjolf. She didn’t want to be the Dragonborn, nor Stormblade, nor the Harbinger, or whatever else she was known as across this land, when Brynjolf spoke to her. When he deigned to speak to her, these days.

Which was why it was a risk bringing him with her.

But she was a thief, was she not? She was good at sneaking.

It took the better part of three weeks for them to get to Whiterun – with Kirsi gradually healing herself with magic and potions both as they travelled. By the end of the first week she was smiling freely again, and by the end of the second she was cracking her own jokes to go along with his. Brynjolf didn’t press the matter of what had gotten her into such a state, and she didn’t make any more allusions to his steadfast avoidance of her prior to it, so he did what he could to avoid looking that gift-horse in the mouth.

When Whiterun loomed before them, jutting up above the rest of the landscape, she issued those aforementioned orders that he’d promised to follow back in Riften. No stealing, no conning, no shenanigans. If I have to start bullshitting, go along with it. He’d shrugged and agreed, too pleased at her swift change in spirits to start arguments now.

And the time for that bullshitting came alarmingly quickly, for they hadn’t yet yet cleared the Honningbrew Meadery when a group of warriors came walking from the other direction, spotted her, and immediately approached.

“Shit,” she breathed.

Brynjolf’s hand had been straying towards his sword when one called out.

“Kirsi! You’re back!”

They were two men and a woman, the first to greet her being the bigger of the two men. Twins, Brynjolf quickly realised, despite their difference in stature – both sporting long dark hair, and dark war paint around their eyes. The woman, another redhead, watched he and Kirsi curiously as the men stepped forth to shake her hand and then pull her into a one armed hug that mostly consisted of a thump on the back.

“Farkas,” she greeted with a tired smile, then repeating the gesture with the other two. “Vilkas. Aela.”

“We didn’t know when you were coming back. After that business with the dragon at Dragonsreach…” Aela greeted.

“Well, I’m back now,” she interrupted quickly.

“With a sellsword, too. Can’t fight your own battles these days?” Vilkas asked, his eyes lingering on Brynjolf.

Brynjolf returned the scrutiny with a lazy smile. It didn’t endear him to the man…but he hadn’t particularly intended it to.

“Not a sellsword – a friend,” she said. “This is Brynjolf. Brynjolf, these are the Companions.”

“Companions to who?” Brynjolf greeted wryly.

“Ysgramor,” Vilkas sneered.

“Oh. You must be older than you look, then.”

“We’re only here for the night. For a comfortable place to sleep and a good meal,” Kirsi interrupted – shooting a look in his direction that was too amused to hold any real bite to it.

“You’ll find both in Jorrvaskr,” Farkas said. “You and your friend. Come. It’s been too long.”

If any other than Brynjolf noted her reluctance, they did not show it.

They arrived to the Companions’ long-hall just in time for dinner – which was swiftly followed by drinking and merry-making thereafter. Brynjolf was accustomed to fudging the details as far as his identity was concerned; not often introducing himself with ‘good morning, I’m a high-ranking member of Skyrim’s biggest criminal enterprise, Dark Brotherhood notwithstanding’, and so he was able to do so here without blinking.

Well, there was one moment that gave him cause to blink. Harbinger. He had heard of the Companions, of course, he wasn’t a fool. His question by the gates had mainly been to rankle the dark-haired man who clearly loathed his presence and whatever his association might’ve been with  Kirsi. Any doubt Brynjolf had as to that loathing was gone when he saw how the man’s eyes followed her about the hall throughout the night. And more-so when Brynjolf dragged her up for a dance, bringing yet another smile to her face…and a matching one to his own.

The glare gained yet more frost to it when Ria asked Kirsi about her new scar, and she lifted a hand self-consciously to it, muttering something about a dragon. Brynjolf took it to be a joke – it was what people used as an explanation for every minor cut and scrape since the beasts returned to Skyrim, but the Companions murmured appreciatively.

“I’m sure it’ll fade, with time,” the Imperial offered reassuringly.

“It suits you,” Brynjolf said simply, returning Kirsi’s gaze boldly when she eyed him in surprise – as if trying to figure out whether he was teasing or not.

When the hour grew so late that it was technically early, Kirsi finally drummed her hands against the long table at which they’d feasted, announcing loudly.

“It’s time we headed to Breezehome – I’ll come by in the morning before I leave.”

“Why not stay here? Tilma readied your quarters while we’ve all been up here. Your friend can bed down with the whelps,” Vilkas commented.

Njada made a noise of displeasure somewhere down the table. The suggestion put her in an uncomfortable position - Brynjolf could see that easily enough. Refuse, and it would be a rejection of the people whom her role here was to offer guidance. Accept, and a lesser man might be insulted in Brynjolf’s shoes. But Kirsi considered it, sighed, and then spoke.

“The Harbinger’s quarters are big enough to share, Bryn. Come on – Tilma will have a bath waiting, too.”

Brynjolf grinned as he watched Vilkas’ regret at saying a word wash over his face.

The rooms below Jorrvaskr were cooler than the hall above, not so warmed by bodies and smoke and revelry, but a bath did indeed wait there for them in the bedchamber next door to the sitting room, steam rising steadily from it.

“Ladies first,” Brynjolf shrugged.

Weeks on the road together had shed them of whatever modesty might have remained, and Kirsi shrugged and began to strip off.

“Multiple rooms, eh lass?” he commented, taking stock of the fineness of the room.

“They’ll always feel like Kodlak’s rooms to me,” she commented quietly. “My predecessor.”

“Even so, it’s funny to think what bed you chose to fall into when you needed that rest when this waited for you here.”

“Don’t act like you don’t remember what I said at the time.”

“Mm. Still, there’s a lad up there that would’ve waited on you hand and foot while you recovered.”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“I’m sure you don’t,” he snorted, but then a furious motion caught his eye even as he studiously trained his gaze straight ahead.

Kirsi was in the bath, the water steadily turning murky after weeks of travel – which made it a little easier for him to keep his eyes stuck on her face, despite the flush that crept up from his neck towards his cheeks. She motioned once across her neck as if to say ‘stop’, and then pointed to her ear, and then the door.

Brynjolf almost laughed. In what world would they be overheard all the way down here? But there was no room for argument in her gaze and he slumped back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling, one question on his mind.

Who are you, Kirsi?

Despite Kirsi’s fears, Brynjolf finding out about her identity – one of them, at least – did not instate the sort of distance she’d feared it might. Oh, a fair amount of good natured ribbing came her way, but with Brynjolf that was always a decidedly good thing, and so she left Whiterun in a better mood than she’d arrived…and in a mood that was unrecognisable to the one she’d departed Riften in.

Rescuing townsfolk from bandits holding them hostage? You’re joking. What are the guards doing? Resting?

You make saving lives sound like a bad thing.

It might be, depending on what it pays. How much?

What?

How much each time? What’s the going rate for a saved life?

…It doesn’t matter. It pays in more than gold. Goodwill. Contacts. Reputation.

By the Nine, it’s a pittance, isn’t it? How much Kirsi? I’ll just keep irritating you until you tell me.

…A hundred gold each time.

When he stopped laughing – which felt like hours later – he pointed out he could make ten times that depending on the job he took. Her pointing out that she could also raid whatever lairs the jobs sent her into did little to help.

Don’t tell me half the goods you fence to Tonilia are gotten honestly, lass. It’ll break my heart.

And it was too difficult to act annoyed by him when she was laughing along.

From Whiterun they turned north to Windhelm. Kirsi withdrew her rule against larceny for all of an hour so that Brynjolf could liberate a farmhouse of a couple of bottles of wine – more for the thrill than anything else, and because free wine tasted better. That night when they made camp, they mulled it over a fire and huddled together far more closely than the barely-encroaching chill necessitated. By the time they were a few tankards deep, she felt giddy and foggy and overall like herself again, matters of fate and destiny and death and Sovngarde, and what a Dragonborn was worth once they’d achieved their purpose, fading behind Brynjolf’s jokes and the way he kept smiling at her and looking at her.

The night was pressing on when she found herself pressed against him beneath a blanket, their backs against a tree, her head on his shoulder as she was pulled further and further towards sleep.

“Lass?” he murmured lowly. “Kirsi?”

She didn’t respond – the original intention being to not respond right away, needing to blink herself into wakefulness before she could wrap her lips around syllables, much less words. But after a moment of silence, he relaxed and pulled her closer.

“I won’t give you the brush off again,” he murmured.

They were words that should have been basic decency, but they had the sound of a vow. As well as that not intended for conscious ears. So she pretended to be asleep, and soon she was no longer pretending.

It took another two weeks for them to reach Windhelm, not helped by their unhurried pace that defied the cold snapping at their heels. Kirsi, aptly named after the frost, seemed to enjoy it if anything. And Brynjolf? Brynjolf…endured it. With a smile. Primarily because he was happy. Happier than he’d been in a while…and more content than he’d admit in this strange and unexpected little routine they’d slipped into together by now.

He was happy as they slipped into Windhelm in the early hours of the morning, when he watched Kirsi pay a little brown-haired lass a hundred times what the entire stock of flowers she peddled were worth, when he found out that had been Kirsi’s main reason for wanting to come here in the first place (for it had been a while since she’d last given the wee girl a stupid amount of gold, and she was worried the last lost may have run out by now), and he was happy when they slipped into Hjerim – her stupidly big Windhelm home – and began to cobble together a hot meal.

Most of all, he was wrapped up in the atmosphere that had fast begun to overtake them. The one that had him enforcing that distance all that time ago, that stupid distance, convincing himself that his own worries were valid concerns about business and the running of the guild and not just cowardice over not wanting to face how he’d feel if it went tits up. That worry was still there, and it would gnaw at his insides like a pack of skeevers if he let it, but it was overpowered by how much he could get used to this. The little smiles. The looks. The complete lack of personal space between them as they went about their little routines.

That happiness was put on pause when a knock interrupted their dinner preparations.

Cursing beneath her breath, much as she had when they’d been spotted by the Companions, she cleaned her hands free of flour from the bread she’d been making and strode for the door. Brynjolf followed, a dagger in hand behind his back, a force of habit.

“Jorleif,” she greeted tiredly. “What is it?”

“Still not one for pleasantries, I see,” Jorleif replied. “High King Ulfric invites you to sup with him tonight – he was pleased to hear you were back in Windhelm.”

“I brought a guest with me.”

“Bring the guest, please!” Jorleif responded happily enough. “Galmar will be there, too. A real reunion, through and through.”

“When?”

“As soon as you can get to the Palace of the Kings, I expect.”

“…Wait here.”

Turning away from the door, she almost walked straight into Brynjolf – and then breathed a soft laugh at the weapon in his hand. Taking up the bread dough in its bowl from the kitchen table, she strode back to Jorleif and thrust the bowl into his hands.

“Here. Have the cooks bake this, I don’t want it going to waste. Move quickly, or else the cold will ruin it."

Whether it was a ploy to be rid of the messenger quickly, a way to amuse herself, or she was truly very excited about that particular loaf of bread, it had the intended effect – the man was quickly gone, and she turned a look filled with trepidation in Brynjolf’s direction.

“How would you like to have supper with the High King of Skyrim?”

Had he not overheard the exchange, he’d never have believed her.

Rather than rush to her wardrobe to change into finery, she settled for brushing the flour from her armour (and her hair) and then leading the way out of the door. It was a short walk to the palace – and Brynjolf’s disbelief did surface when he saw how Ulfric Stormcloak greeted Kirsi. With a warm greeting, and a hug.

“When did you arrive, Stormblade?” he asked, paying Brynjolf all the attention High Kings likely usually paid people who didn’t immediately interest them.

“This morning, my King,” she bowed at the neck and was forcibly straightened, Ulfric having none of it.

“This morning? I should set the guards on you for being here so long without coming here. And who’s this?”

He had not yet looked at Brynjolf, but it was plain he had not escaped his notice.

“Brynjolf. A friend – and a travelling companion. Bryn, this is Ulfric Stormcloak, and his housecarl Galmar Stone-fist.”

This is Ulfric. Like he was a friend from the tavern and little more. Was he supposed to bow? Brynjolf did not bow – not to anybody. He didn’t much want to start here. So instead, he cleared his throat and looked between the two of them.

“I wasn’t aware you rubbed shoulders with royalty, Kirsi. I imagine how you met must be quite the tale.”

Galmar breathed a harsh laugh. “She’s not told you? By Talos, if I’d survived Helgen all within a hundred leagues of me would know the tale at all times.”

Helgen? Brynjolf stared in disbelief. The look remained on his face throughout dinner, and he was in less of a mood for teasing than he had been in Whiterun.

Do you remember Korvanjud, girl? When you snuck up onto the walkway and rained fire down on those Imperial bastards from above?

Ulfric had cut in there. I remember it. I still owe you that drink, don’t I?

You fought in the war? Brynjolf had asked, unable to help himself.

She’s not told you that either, lad? By Talos, I don’t know how Ulfric would’ve won the damn thing as swiftly as he did without the Dr-

Galmar. Kirsi had cut in, fixing the man with a hard stare.

…Without the driving force that Stormblade here proved to be. Ulfric had covered for his housecarl – and Brynjolf didn’t buy it for a second.

They returned to Hjerim that night in silence.

“Brynjolf, sooner or later you’ll have to say something to me.”

After dinner, they’d retired back to her home wordlessly, and Kirsi didn’t try to break the silence until they were out of the city gates early the next morning. Brynjolf suspected she was worried that High King of hers would issue an invitation for breakfast, too, if they didn’t make themselves scarce.

“The Companions were one thing. Harbinger, do-gooder, whatever. I figured you need easy money to supplement your finances, a cover for all of the ill-gotten gold you make with us. Whatever. Soldiering? Not my business either – the civil war never interested me, and maybe it’s a good thing that your mighty High King’s victory stopped Maven from being directly in charge of the Rift. It’s even a relief to know your not being scared of her has reasonable roots that go beyond plain old foolishness. Maybe even who you are – whoever that is – provides you with useful contacts, I don’t know. But that’s the point. I don’t know. And the more I see, the less I know.”

“Bryn…”

“Are you a highborn lass, then? Is that it? Because you’ve done too much for us for me to call that a conflict of interest, you know?”

“Not at all. I’m as common as the muck beneath our boots.”

“Most peasants don’t sup with High Kings.”

“A twist of fate, little more.”

“One you don’t trust me enough to explain.”

“It’s not like that.”

“What is it like?”

Sighing, she shook her head and looked out across the snow landscape, visibly searching for the words.

“Most folk like me in the context they know me in. You insist Vilkas is in love with me, and maybe he is, but only in the context he knows me in. He could barely square himself with my throwing a fireball at a draugr – some nonsense about it not being an honourable way or fight, I don’t know what the- anyway, if he does love me, he loves Kirsi, the Harbinger of the Companions and Thane of Whiterun. The one who disappears and returns having cleared out a cave of bandits, or rescued a citizen, or beat the shit out of someone who threatened a villager. That’s not me. You know that better than anybody. If he saw the rest of it? He’d go from being attracted to me, to wanting to take up arms against me very damn quickly. I can’t even resent him for it, either. He believes what I’ve led him to believe.”

It was clear she wasn’t done when she paused, and so Brynjolf waited in silence for her to continue.

“Ulfric…he’s less rigid, perhaps. Not that he’s in love with me. If he was ever going to pursue anything like that, it would be because of what I am and not who I am.

“I’m sure he has enough soldiers to take his pick from, lass.”

“It’s not that I was referring to,” she muttered sourly. “So long as I’m subtle about whatever else I get up to, I’m sure he doesn’t care. But is that better or worse than Vilkas’ outlook? I don’t…I can’t have that happen again. Not with you.”

“You think I’d go running because you give gold to orphans and run an outfit of block-headed warriors?”

“I don’t run then. And they’re not block-headed,” she said softly. “And it’s more than that.”

“How much more, Kirsi?”

“Much more. An entire world-load of complications. And you’ve shut me out before for less.”

Brynjolf faltered. “Kirsi…lass…”

They were interrupted by the screech of a dragon, and then a blast of fire.

The battle was a hard-won one. She’d fought worse dragons, after all – the worst dragon – but she was certain the ones that were left were growing fiercer, as if in some desperate bid to cling onto the foothold they’d previously dug out for themselves in this land.

They hadn’t been far from Kynesgrove, and so they’d been joined by miners and guards as they battled the beast, but that threatened to be more of a help than a hindrance – making sure none were in the line of fire as she shot spells and bellowed Shouts at the dragon until finally she could make the killing blow, driving her blade through its eye.

She turned to Brynjolf then, looking at him almost mournfully as she fought to regain her breath, well-accustomed by now to the feeling of the dragon’s soul whipping about her body and finally sinking in. It felt like she was being held before a bonfire, the heat just shy of actually burning. Brynjolf stared, his face splattered with dragon blood, his eyes wide.

“I’m the Dragonborn,” Kirsi breathed.

Like the skeever wasn’t already out of the bag. How long had she refused to use Shouts around him? Even in their pursuit of Mercer through Falmer-infested caves. All for nothing. Brynjolf continued to stare – a time during which she did her best to predict what he would do. Mostly, her money was on an awkwardly mumbled “I’m heading back to Riften, I’ll see you next time you complete a job”.

Instead, though, he threw down his blade and strode towards her, few paying them much mind at all as they trailed back towards whatever they’d been doing when the dragon descended. Now it was Kirsi’s turn to stare…right up until he was within arm’s length of her, when he grabbed her by the arm and yanked her towards him, pulling her into a kiss that filled her with fire more than the souls of a hundred dragons ever could.

When he pulled back, he stayed close, one rough fingertip trailing across the scar at the side of her face. Kirsi was fast deciding she wasn’t going to have the face sculptor get rid of it, after all.

“No more secrets, lass?”

“No more secrets,” she confirmed softly, eyes flickering down to his lips and then up to his eyes again. “Although…”

Her hands had come to rest at his chest and she felt him stiffen, dreading what she was going to say next.

“I’m also the Archmage at the College of Winterhold,” she said. “I thought we might go there next.”

Brynjolf breathed a laugh, his forehead pressing against hers. “I can live with that.”

Links: AO3 -- FF.net -- flufftober masterpost -- dividers by cafekitsune

[muertebloom]

@championsofthegate rolled 1d4 ( & 1d6 )... 1 + 3! Kirsi and Rosemary

it is late in the evening, while half the camp was still gathered around the fire, when kirsi approaches rosemary. her cat - bast - is curled up, in her arms, gnawing at kirsi's fingers as she speaks, " y'know, i- i hate to ask, but do i know you? your face is so familiar to me, and yet i can't seem to recall from where. "

[ash-and-books]

Rating: 5/5

Book Blurb:

Secrets hide behind every corner of the castle walls in the first volume of an exciting Webtoon romantasy graphic novel that follows the budding romance between a lady-in-waiting and an enchanted suit of armor.

While humans and fairies are at war beyond the castle walls, Lucia’s life is dedicated to helping prepare Lady Kirsi for her upcoming wedding to King Reimund.

Lucia’s time at court takes a dazzling turn when she accompanies Lady Kirsi to a royal tournament that calls together all of the kingdom's brave knights for a competition of strength and wit. A magically animated suit of armor, brought to life by Norrix the court mage's complicated enchantment spell, enters the ring and challenges the winning knight. Lucia is immediately attracted to the armor's dark, mysterious charm and lovingly names him Modeus. Bonded by their mutual status as outcasts within the kingdom, the two begin to develop an unlikely yet thrilling connection and sparks (both metaphorical and magical) fly.

The truth is, Lucia is hiding a dangerous secret about her own identity. She is the enemy: a fairy. She fears being exposed to the whole human kingdom, but she desperately desires to learn more about herself--especially with the arrival of a winged visitor who has infiltrated the castle walls for reasons still unknown... 

Complete with original behind-the-scenes content and a bonus storyline exclusive to the book, this first volume includes episodes 1-17 of the greatly successful Webtoon webcomic Suitor Armor and sets the stage for a grand adventure in magic, romance, mystery, fantasy creatures, friendship, self-discovery, and more!

Review:

In a world where fae and humans are at war, one fae girl is taken in by a human family and forced to hide her identity... yet as she becomes the lady in waiting to the king's fiancee and falls for a mysterious magically enchanted armor... truths about her kind are unleashed and she begins to question who she truly is and where she belongs. This is the first book in a series and it is utterly adorable while also being heartwrenching. The story follows Lucia, a fae girl who was taken in by a human family when she was younger. All her life she has kept her identity a secret, forced to hide her wings and ears...yet it will become harder to hide when she is taken to court to help with the marriage of her Lady to the king. There Lucia meets Modeus, a magically animated suit of armour brought to life by Norrrix, the court mage.... who is much more sentient and alive than anyone could have thought. Lucia falls for Modeus but with people barely even accepting that Modeus might be anything more than a suit of armor, despite the fact that he talks, thinks, and acts....Lucia has her work cut out for her it also doesn't help that when she encounters a fairy she is exposed to some dark truths about the whole human kingdom and a desire to find out who and what she truly is is awakened. Lucia will have to find out her own powers and abilities, and who she can truly trust with her identity all the while facing betrayal, romance, and heartbreak. This is such a great story and the world really sucks you in. The romance was just charming and sweet and I can't wait to read more!

Release Date: November 12, 2024

Publication/Blog: Ash and Books (ash-and-books.tumblr.com)

*Thanks Netgalley and Clarkson Potter/Ten Speed Press | Ten Speed Graphic for sending me an arc in exchange for an honest review*

[duelbraids]

THE CAT BURGLAR

A run down of the questline of Kirsi Ninelives, as if she were a companion.

In Act 1, a member of the Horned Syndicate will attack at night, trying to take revenge for the death of someone named Agni. The best outcome is the attacker being talked down, as Kirsi will reveal the most information in that scenario, explaining who the Horned Syndicate were and her involvement in Agni's disappearance.

During the Tiefling party (or if the player intiates it,) Kirsi will offer to spend the night with them. She will teach the player Theives' Cant, if they don't already know it, and falls asleep cuddling them. When they awaken, Kirsi is frozen to the touch, whimpering from a nightmare - this is where she will tell the player that her magic is tied to her feelings, and that extreme emotions can cause her ice magic to act out.

In Act 2, the party can find a letter in the Shadowlands on the corpse of a courier (Highlighted with a D10 Perception check) addressed to Kirsikka Virtanen, rescinding her disowning and inviting her back to House Virtanen, signed by Dame Ilmi and Sir Kamal. If Kirsi is confronted about it, she will try to say she knows nothing about it, but can be persuaded to tell the player about her family and being disowned - and not knowing why her mother and step-father would invite her back.

During this act, Kirsi will have a long rest scene where she's trying to put braids back into her hair, but is struggling doing it alone. The player can offer to help, and after a time skip, Kirsi will have her new hairstyle. A romanced Kirsi will ask to kiss the player, moving her into the partnered stage.

In Act 3, her plot culminates during an attack on the player's camp ( similar to the attacks on Astarion and Aylin ) where, if Kirsi drops to 0HP, she is kidnapped by members of the Horned Syndicate.

Regardless of whether or not Kirsi is kidnapped, the player can Speak with Dead or find instructions on the attacker's bodies, showing that Kirsi was to be taken House Virtanen in the very upper edge of the Lower City.

Whether or not she is kidnapped, the player will need to make their way to House Virtanen. Outside of the house is Vetle of Elturel, a well known adventurer (level 12) who shares a striking resemblance to the party's missing sorcerer. He will tell the player that he, too, is visiting House Virtanen, and will enter with them. If Kirsi is with the player, she will meet her father for the first time here. It's so sweet.

Once inside the manor, the party will meet a human man calling himself Lord Agni, who is chatting with Dame Ilmi about his engagement to "Kirsikka." If it isn't obvious, the player can find a journal confirming that Lord Agni is the same Agni that ran The Horned Syndicate, and the engagement is a ploy to get back at Kirsi and gain a noble status.

If Kirsi is kidnapped, the player will have to sneak around to find her, locked in the basement. She will explain that her mother is forcing her to get married to some lord. The player can tell her that the unknown lord is Agni, to her revulsion. From there, the player has the option to break her out then and there, or wait until the wedding. Breaking Kirsi out then and there is hard, and it is advisable to wait for the wedding.

If Kirsi is not kidnapped, but is there when the party enters House Virtanen, her mother will spring the engagement on her, happily welcoming her "beloved first born" back into the house. Kirsi will immediately think something is wrong, but the love-bombing is somehow not tadpole related. Instead, Dame Ilmi will quietly threaten Kirsi's half sister's life if Kirsi does not comply.

Regardless, once the player has learned of the wedding, it will take place in 3 days. The party will need to go to House Virtanen on the day of the wedding, if they're to put their plan in motion.

At the wedding, the party can have dialogue with most of Kirsi's family. Her step-father, Sir Kamal, is a checked out, depressed man, but the player can suggest he stand up to his wife - that it's what a true Paladin would do. Her half-sister, Kielo, is lethargic and vacant, and a Medicine check will reveal she's under the effects of poison. If challenged on her behavior, Dame Ilmi will rebuff the player, saying that all noble women are forced to get married, and Kirsi should have expected it. Agni will taunt the player, especially if Kirsi has been romanced.

Once the ceremony has started (by talking to Kirsi, who is glamoured to be a human, similar to Agni) the Player can either object themselves or allow Kirsi to object. If the Player objects, Agni will challenge the player to a duel. At half HP in the duel, or if Kirsi is the one who objects, Kirsi will break the glamour on herself and Agni, and reveal her mother's plot in front of high society. This will cause a fight with Agni's Horned Syndicate, Dame Ilmi's guards, and Sir Kamal's paladins. Unless, of course, Sir Kamal was talked into standing up for himself, in which case, the Paladins will be on the side of the party. Once the wedding has stopped, Kirsi will get the Inspiration Point, Speak Now: Object to an unwanted wedding.

If the player wants, for some reason, for Kirsi to go through with the wedding, they can instead Hold Your Peace. By convincing Kirsi to keep her mouth shut ( much easier if the player has encouraged her to be more reticent throughout the campaign ) the wedding goes through normally, and Kirsi will be lost as a companion. Returning to House Virtanen the next morning will see Kirsi nearly non-responsive, poisoned like her half-sister was at the wedding. Agni will pledge to have the Horned Syndicate join the final battle, as thanks for helping Kirsi "come to her senses."

A romanced Kirsi's final scene will happen after the wedding, where she will be in her wedding dress in the ruins of the wedding venue. She and Tav will talk about the future together, and Kirsi will admit she's had enough of weddings - and doesn't need one, unless Tav wants one. Regardless, so long as Tav chooses to stay with Kirsi, they will help Kirsi undo the wedding dress, and have sex together.

EPILOGUE: Speak Now Kirsi will have continued adventuring alongside her father, Vetle, who comes to the party as well. She's enjoying catching up on years of missed father-daughter bonding. If inquired about, the player can learn that Dame Ilmi was thrown out of House Virtanen, which is now Sir Kamal's, and where Bast stays with her litter of kittens. Hold Your Peace Kirsi will be at the party alongside Agni in glamour, and Kirsi only speaks when explicitly asked a question ( otherwise, Agni will speak for her. ) The player doesn't need the Tadpole to know that she's barely mentally present anymore, the months of poison eroding her personality and her magic.

[cilant-lis]

1, 10 & 17 for the poe ask thing?

oh hell yeah more opportunity to talk about variel bby <3

what is your watcher's class? how does it relate to their backstory?

variel is a kind wayfarer paladin. she joined the order after escaping servitude on her adopted "family's" merchant ships (there was a storm and a shipwreck and variel ended up being washed up ashore in the living lands). she was saved by a kind wayfarer paladin, kirsi, who became her mother figure. after variel recovered, she began her training to join the order. after completing her initiation, she spent the next years of her life fulfilling her kind wayfarer duties, guiding and protecting travellers from the dangers of the living lands.

10. which god did your watcher make a deal with? did they keep their end of the bargain?

answered in the last post :)

17. what is your watcher's opinion of animancy?

unfortunately a boring answer, but variel doesn't have a strong opinion of animancy one way or another. she sees its dangers (especially after seeing the abhorrent treatment of patients in brackenbury sanitarium), but doesn't discount its benefits and how it can help those in need.

[kindlythevoid]

For the talk about your fics game: 1, 2, 4 (OC of your choice), and 8!

Ohhh, thank you so much for asking!!! I really took this opportunity to lore dump about, well, basically everyone and everything I think, and it turned out to be a very long post. And as I myself hate scrolling and scrolling through posts that I've already seen (unless it's the color of the sky), I will put it under the keep reading for the sake of brevity.

Read at your own risk.

(But thank you very much for asking, seriously, I love lore dumping so so much)

1. What story (stories?) are you writing rn that you’ll most likely publish next?

Probably In Every Stitch and Seam, which mostly follows Season Two of my BBC Merlin rewrite where Arthur gets shot back to the beginning of the first season after he dies. I'm playing with some other stories that I'd like to publish at some point, but unless I manage to write a really well-written one shot, Stitch and Seam will probably be the next one.

2. What story (stories?) are you writing rn that will most likely linger in your head for an undetermined amount of time?

All of 'em? None of 'em? It really depends on the time, ha ha! A lot of them are in the in-my-head stage. I hope one day to publish them. Maybe one day, I'll even write them!

4. Lore dump about the OCs! (Author's choice)

So, originally I was going to try to pick one. But fuck it, I made the damn game, it says plural OCs in the question, I'm just gonna go off about all of them bc that's what the game is for. Thank you for asking!! I'm just gonna go down the list of tags I originally had.

So, Mara, is, actually, my Supernatural OC. Super cringe, yes, but I love her and I have a whole story more-or-less plotted out and everything. Like this thing spans so much time. But I'm here to talk about Mara. So, omgosh, Mara Deana Winchester is Sam's kid that he has with Amelia when Dean is stuck in Purgatory after Season Seven. So, like, obviously I make every change I've ever wanted for the show, but, like, it hinges on the existence of this girl. Sam has a kid, and immediately the whole universe changes. But because Supernatural is canonically part of a multiverse, there's a universe out there with the original Supernatural plotline, but we won't get into that. (I've never lore dumped about my characters, sorry for rambling on about the story instead, ha ha!) So, anyway, Amelia doesn't want the kid and her husband comes back, so Sam takes her and him and Dean and Cas have to raise this girl. In a bunker. Like, better than what John did. That's like, the lowest of bars. And Mara really takes after Sam, but she has all these random influences and is, like, taken on hunts?? As a child?? Or left with Jody and the girls or Charlie or something, so she very much has the childhood of a Hunter, but she still sees the Bunker as, like, her permanent childhood home, which does wonders for her, I'm sure. Anyway, so she grows up and becomes a therapist, because I am convinced that the Hunters need to have, like, benefits or something. So she's a licensed therapist, but she's also, like, 6'3, built like a lumberjack, with a bunch of anti-possession tattoos and scars and shit, so the first session always goes really interestingly. There's also a side story (several, probably) where I cross over with freaking Criminal Minds (bc ofc) and Mara ends up dating JJ's now-adult son, Henry, which just means chaos at the wedding because half of Mara's family is on the Most Wanted List and the other half probably doesn't legally exist, so. Yeah, idk if that's how you talk about OCs, but there's number one down.

Okay, next up is Kirsi. She is one of my two main Star Wars OCs. She's a Rexsoka kid, it's true, yeah, born about two or so years after the rise of the Empire, yeah, yeah. So Kirsi is Togrutan, like Ahsoka, but she looks exactly like Rex (and consequently like a bajillion other soldiers in the universe, funny how that works) and she isn't Force-sensitive. And since I made them before Bad Batch, I'm sticking with the reason that Rex and co. is retired is because he's staying behind to raise the kids (yes, kids, I'll get to that later), while Ahsoka goes around doing Ahsoka things (though she also picks them up and takes them for, like, half the year, because I couldn't bear the thought of Ahsoka not playing a part in their lives). So, anyway, when Ezra goes to pick up Rex, Kirsi and her sister (the next OC) go along with them, but as, like, equally side characters. Kirsi eventually goes off to properly join the Rebellion and shit and ends up running her own ship called Judgement Day.

Kirsi's older sister, Aay'han, is Force-sensitive. She's human, looks like Ahsoka, and is basically Ahsoka's padawan for all intents and purposes. Although, after her, Kirsi, and Rex end up in the same orbit as the Ghost crew, Aay'han does some training with Kanan and Ezra just bc Ahsoka is gone so often. But while Kirsi officially joins the Rebellion, Aay'han remains sort of anonymous. Like, she helps out, but she never has to take orders. She does, however, join the crew of the Judgement Day once that becomes a thing. (I guess she's more of a side OC as of right now, but it felt right to give her her own blurb)

Okay, okay, so my Sole Survivors I'm gonna do together, because I believe it's short. Ish. Nate and Nora are my take on Fallout 4's sole survivors, except, y'know, they both survive. I stick with the Army-Nate and Lawyer-Nora narrative, but Nate was a medic/doctor/nurse-person (I haven't solidified it yet, but he does the Medicine) and Nora's been diagnosed with ASPD, so she's actually one of the very, very few people that is both a sociopath and a psychopath! I basically assigned certain SPECIAL characteristics and the various paths to either Nate or Nora, so Nora's really good at, say, lockpicking and hacking from her misspent youth, while Nate has crazy good endurance and probably ends up as a ghoul at some point so he can deal with the radiation spots! They're both, like, eerily okay with murder and are on a mission to find Shaun. Nate just keeps adopting ppl on the way. And Nora's low-empathy, but she can still reason and shit, so she's not, like, a villain or anything. But yeah, power couple Nate & Nora. :)

Like Nate and Nora, I'm just gonna do the crew of Judgement Day all as one. The Judgement Day is the same ship that Kirsi pilots. Her co-pilot is Miikka, who's ginger, flies planes, and ends up with Kirsi. Their navigator is Solene (goes by Lena), a bubbly purple Twilek who really loves the stars and is the cinnamon roll of the ship (do ppl even still use that terminology anymore??). Their resident mechanic is a Chiss named Kres'ave'kleon (...Savek, he goes by Savek), who desperately needs an attitude check but is, unfortunately, very good with ships and doesn't really care that they're running Rebellion missions. They also have a live-in hacker who is their primary contact with the black market; she's a Mirialan who goes by Kalea and is the only one who gets their own room on the ship. Finally, they also have slicer, a human cyborg ex-smuggler from back in the war named Gene. Kalea gets them in, but Gene is the one that deals with sending codes and transmissions and shit to the Rebellion.

So, that was a lot. But I only mostly regret typing it all out!

8. Fic that is near and dear to your heart?

Oh goodness, where do I start? Though I've only published a few, all of the ones I write occupy a little place in my heart. But as the longest fic I've ever written, one of the very few I've finished, and part of the handful that have made it onto Ao3... Love the Bright Sword. As of right now it's definitely one of my better, if not best, written pieces, and everything in Rewind I really feel is some of my best quality writing. I've definitely sunk a few years of my life into this fic, just sort of writing on and off, and I remember staying up late to rewatch episodes and studiously take down how dialogue is said or how a scene is played out, just over and over again. I still do, when I come across an episode I need to write out, but, oh, those were some days. That was my first time getting comments on a fic, real long comments, and I took every chance I could to talk about how a scene was written, or how much I love a certain character, or what I learned while researching, or analysis, so much analysis on my own damn fic. (Hell, I still do it when I can, ha ha!) I consider myself so lucky to have landed with the audience that I have, because it really made the experience so much better than I ever could have imagined.

Okay, so, maybe not what you were expecting, op, but than you anyway!! I really appreciated the opportunity to go off like this!! :)

Kindly,

The Void

[miss-multi45]

auria ascension facts and headcanons

she's the bassist in the band

5'11, pansexual

her horns are navy blue at the end and fade into black at the base

her and kirsi's horns look like this:

auria kirsi

the ends of the horns get painfully sharp, therefore they both have to carefully file them down when they get too sharp

auria just does it whenever she wants to, kirsi never does it

auria fucking hates being touched without permission

she will murder you on the spot

loves meeting other bassists, playing bass is her permanent hyperfixation

used to use a pick, stopped after it snapped in half after she accidentally stepped on it

when she's alone in her room, she either:

1. practices her bass

2. sleeps

3. lays on her bed for over 4 hours

5. binge watches music videos of artists she hates

instead of handing out picks or flowers made of mummy dust bills, ascension hands out pronoun pins, kandi bracelets, crystals or fidget toys

blue is her colour, black is her hair colour

she looks like this:

piercings: ashley piercing, smiley piercing, industrial, triple lobe, daith, conch, helix

her eyes are blue but they don't look like that

they're fully baby blue and glow a light teal in the dark, and her pupils are dark blue empty circles

she has two fangs where one canine should be, and they can get dangerously sharp.

never wears dresses. sometimes wears long skirts

[stargazingfordreams]

A court of Night and Stars

Summary- Random killings have been happening all over Pythian and make its ways to a kingdom in the fae realm known as Mareen. Emrys grieves the loss of her sister and keeps her domain away from war, and she gets help from an unexpected ally.

Pairing- Adu!t Nyx x OC

Warning- None 

Chapter 1

Chapter two

Emrys Pov

I watched the night sky enjoying it as if it would be my last as a warm breeze flowed in. Midnight my familiar lay at my feet, his bright yellow eyes alert, and his black fur shined in the moonlight. I was at peace petting the spoiled panther before me until I heard a knock at my door.

“Princess?” Sujeed moved his head into my room.

“Yes, General Sujeed,” my voice couldn’t hide my annoyance. I just wanted tonight. I just wanted a minute to process what tomorrow might be like. This will not be my first war. Mareen hadn’t been a place of peace, but after the civil war, I thought this would be it.

“The watch for tonight will be changing now.” He said with a bow and smirk.

“You’ve never felt the need to tell me you would be standing guard before,”  I said to him.

“Oh no, it won’t be me but rest knowing that I put one of my best to guard for you tonight. I really came in here to talk to you.” He moved further into my room though the door was still open. I shifted in my seat on my window sill.

“I don’t think that we have anything to talk about,” I said to him.

“It’s about tomorrow. I want you to stay close, and if you see danger, please just run. I can protect you.” I scoffed and shook my head.

“You want me to run from a fight when my people are risking their lives,” I said

“I want to keep you safe,” he said. Coming closer. Midnight's eyes were fixed on him.

“Well then, I hate to disappoint you, but I won’t be doing that” I got up from the window sills and moved to my vanity. I picked up some hair oil in a bottle and started putting it in my hair, looking into my mirror and not at the general, who took it upon himself to come further into my room and close the door behind him; I stopped what I was doing to glare in his direction. Still, it seemed as though no matter how much he looked at me, he wasn’t seeing me.

“I don’t want this to be up for a discussion. Truly it shouldn’t be your safety that is best for all of us. If anything happens to the Kirsi or Sauna, then it will be you to take over the throne, and we can’t have you dead.” A nerve in me was being pushed at. He quickly forgot his place, and then a thought struck me.

“You spoke to my mother, haven't you? What did she tell you?” My tone was deadly, and he was wise to be worried. He straightened his back and took straight at me.

“When all is done, you are to be my wife, I look forward to that, Emrys, but that day won’t come if you are no longer here. But, please, for our sake, for the sake of life, we will have to stay away from danger” he took a step forward, but I took one back.

“I think it is time for you to leave.”

“Emrys, please I-“

“No, just leave,” I said, taking a threatening step toward him. Midnight was now up, eyeing him down. A challenge to try if he dared to disobey. He stepped back, took his last bow, and left through the door. When I was again by myself, I finished my hair for the night, went back to the window sill, and looked up at the stars. A million thoughts and emotions ran through my head, but none mattered, not right now, and it was just me and the night sky.

That night I was restless. I would close my eyes and want to sleep, yet that dream kept playing the same dream I had been having for months. The endless night sky, Music, Art, a bridge that crossed over water, and sometimes, on nights like this, I would see flashes of body parts, long dark hair, a woman’s smirk legs, and moaning. I never understood why I was having dreams of someone else’s pleasure, but they always ended the same, and that was with me staring at a mirror. I could not see the face, only the eyes, only the blue starry eyes.

My eyes slowly opened, and my mind and body came back together as I moved out of bed. The dream had already left my mind forgetting the eyes and the sky like it became a haze leaving me to not remember. Sometimes I try to remember whether their eyes were green or brown, at night or day, and that laugh was smooth or booming? I didn’t have time, though, to try and remember. It was early morning, but there was no light. The sun was breaking slowly in the sky while I put on my armor and fought maroon and gold leathers, the royal family's colors.

I had met the rest on the open field. My sister and I wore the same armor, and my mother wore all black, showing that she was still mourning. I had put my mask over my face, and my sister and I walked side by side with my mother as we met with what looked like the high lords of Prythian. I looked at all seven of then, and my face stopped at the only woman among their ranks.                           

“What is the meaning of this, Queen Kirsi? We have no problems nor want any of this for the people of Maureen.” A man with white hair and the ocean in his eyes said.

“There have been crimes committed against my people, and it is time that they are paid for with blood” my mother looked at the group of men before us and showed no fear.

“And do you plan on doing that by having children and women fight for you if it comes to war?” A man with brown hair and fire in his eyes said.

He motioned to my sister and me, standing next to my mother. I was smaller than most, and it seemed as though because of this, That arrogant man mistook me for a Child. I let a smirk appear on my face, but it was short-lived when I felt something shift beneath my feet.

Nyx Pov

We planned to meet on the Isle between the night court and Mareen. However, when we had gotten to the open field, the Maueenian queen and three others were already waiting. I straighten the appeal of my jacket and put my hands in my pocket. My mother and father are both at my side, along with Amren.

“Do you think it will come to a fight between the Mareenians and us?” I asked both of them

“The Mareenians are proud, ruthless people; I can’t see them backing down from this fight if it comes to that, but that is not why we are here though we all did bring reinforcements,” Amren said as we walked closer to the middle of the battlefield.

“Rhys, Do you think it’s wise to just walk into the open field like this” my mother followed in step with us.

“This isn’t like Hybren Feyre, darling; we have a chance to talk this out and hopefully avoid the bloodshed of thousands,” My father explained; we made it to the middle, standing in front of the Queen, a man who was the same height as me the second oldest daughter and a tiny warrior who was close to amen size their face was covered the only thing I notice was familiar pare of chocolate eyes that narrowed as it pierced through me I threw them a smirk. All of us took a slight bow.

“Your Grace, I am glad you have decided to meet with us here.” My father said Amren. However, she translated it into their language. I listen closely, seeing if I can piece together what they are saying. Unfortunately, I can't keep up with what they are saying.

“What is the meaning of this, Queen Kirsi? We have no problems nor want any of this for the people of Maureen.” High lord Tarquin had claimed

“The queen says that a great offense has been…..brought the death of her firstborn child” Amren tone was low.

“I am sorry for your loss, your grace. I can't begin to imagine what you must be feeling,” My mother said.

“And do you plan on doing that by having children and women fight for you if it comes to war?”Baron was next to open his arrogant mouth. I didn’t bother to hide my annoyance.

“I understand your loss, but-“ The small one dressed in a maroon stepped forward. I almost followed suit wanting to protect my family, But they held their hand up.

“She said to wait….” I stopped and listened although I heard nothing, I sensed nothing. The Female warrior bent down and felt the earth, closing her eyes and listening to it as if she was the only one who could hear it. In a split second, she jumped up, pushing my mother out of the way and putting a shield around us all, but she wasn’t fast enough. A stray arrow that would have hit my mother hit her arm instead, giving her a flesh wound.

“It was an ambush,” The queen said in a heavy accent.

“This wasn’t us; we swear by it,” Amren said

The Queen raised her hand, and the Mareenians army came down above the mountains, swarming the battlefield, but they weren’t met without force. The Illyrian armies rushed to the sky with arrows and swords. The other lords had their troops charging the area. The high lord of autumn drew his sword and lunged toward the queen with such speed and force that my eyes almost missed him, but the small soldier drew the hilt to their sword. It had no blade. I moved to stop them, but a blade made of lighting sprung for the handle and broke the sword in half. She smiled and swung again. I moved to push the girl out of the way because she didn’t see Eris sneaking his way behind her. So now it was our swords that crashed.

“Move out of my way, brute,” he said through his teeth.

“This doesn’t have to be a fight, Eris” he pushed off and rushed into what now looked like a battlefield sword crashing. Screams were echoing. The sounds of flesh being cut rang through my ears. And the sounds of my beating heart thumped with adrenaline. I looked at my mother and father, who were holding their own.

“Nyx! Get your mother and Amren out of here now!” He yelled over the sounds of the fight.

“What about you!” I fought my way to him.

“Do as you're told and go!” Finally, I made it to where my mother and Amren were. I fought the two men that were surrounding them. I held them both in my arms.

“Hang on. I’ll get us out of here.” I was about to take off when I saw the warrior from earlier fight off at least eight Barons men by herself, holding her still-injured arm; the injury she got protecting my mother.

“Mother takes Amren and gets out of here,” I said, heading toward where she was fighting.

“But your father said-“

“I know what he said, mother, but please go. I owe her this” her eyes went over to the warrior fighting for her life with the disadvantage of her injury.

“Be quick” I nodded off and ran to her. But in a moment, something hit the battlefield hard then mere force sent all of us flying. I caught her mid-air, hitting the ground and rolling with her in my arms. The blast's power sent us far away from the battlefield but for a brief moment, 

I saw him and Ranthain.

[vacantgodling]

for Ship Classifications: i'd love to see just. 4 random ships and what category they fit into and why

LMAO thank you for asking—i’ll do this for just my ocs but if you want fandom ships as well just lemme know 💀

MAKES SENSE / COMPELS ME

i think the most “traditional” (in terms of tropes) variation of this type of oc ship that i have that checks all the boxes for fandom madness would probably be di/toph in lukewarm rejection ngl. (1) monsterfucking (toph is a demon) (2) bickering to lovers (3) chemistry the second they meet (4) punk x reformed goody two shoes (5) religious guilt and childhood trauma makes you seek the bad boy type. (6) hot. i do kinda miss the more dramatic layers that their old wip had but it was good for my brain to let go of it finally. maybe the ashes of that wip can be something else. anyway, here, art of the sillies be upon ye.

MAKES SENSE / DOESNT COMPEL ME

calvin im/jake deluna from purple haze. as much as like. they have literally everything that constitutes one of my favorite ship dynamics (best friends to lovers) the two of them are just completely strictly platonic in my mind. i toyed with the idea of them being a thing but every time ive tried to think about it, even in a crack sense, its just made me go 🤢 LMAOOOO and i think its the two of them also protesting LMAO. they’re just more like brothers more than i can see them being romantic so even tho usually i can turn best friends into lovers, not these two. they’re just the best bros ever :DD woe, art of the sillies be upon ye.

DOESN’T MAKE SENSE / COMPELS ME

this is a bit hard to answer bc i tend to make a lot of things i like canon However after looking through my oc list i realize that i actually have many many ships that dont become a “thing” BUT i still enjoy them. that doesn’t mean they dont make sense tho, which is what im hung up on. i think a ship that’d fit this category would be kirsi/lord flykrost in alizath. and like hear me out: it makes Absolutely no sense. (1) he’s like 20+ years older than her (but that’s hot— *is spritzed with water*) (2) he’s married (3) kirsi already has two perfectly good handsome men she’s gonna end up with (amarette and juven respectively) (4) they literally canonically are going to have more of a father/daughter or mentor/mentee type relationship BUT THIS DOES NOT STOP MY BRAIN APPARENTLY. lord flykrost is hot to me. i can’t explain what he looks like bc i haven’t solidified that yet but just know he’s hot. more than just physically tbh his entire vibe is giving nanami from jjk so ig that’s why he’s hot to me (and if you don’t know said character dw about it bc i literally don’t go there i only care about him; tldr men who cut the bullshit and take responsibility and look after those younger than them or less privileged or capable than them are hot ? also Big. Big man. tiddies. thank you for coming to my ted talk). so idk the idea of him being all strong romantic lead and taking care of kirsi is very woof woof awooga to me LMAO. but like i said this just isn’t gonna happen it just lives rent free in my head 💀💀💀💀

DOESN’T MAKE SENSE / DOESN’T COMPEL ME

genuinely if (and probably when) i see people ship madja and jihi in tcol i will actually kill people LOL. like no spoilers ig but like while cnc can be fine in some instances this is very much a nc situation so like. you do you ig but like i actually can’t stand madja GJRJRJRJRJ

[doueverwonder]

Do you have any hcs for other misc grandkids of Germania ?

Hey anon, sorry this has taken me 3 days. I wasn't sure exactly what you meant but this so I have not one, but two forms of answer for you.

Answer 1. All of Germania's grandkids (in age order, including human names, and parent [that is Germania's kid])

Shetland - Fiona (Norway)

Orkney - Bodil (Norway)

Faroe - Ida (Norway)

Caithness - Ailsa (Norway)

Iceland - Ari (Norway)

Greenland - Aputsiak 'Sia' (Norway)

Vinland - Dagny [deceased] (Norway)

Åland - Kirsi (Sweden)

Kalmar Union - Karl [deceased] (Denmark)

Canada - Mathieu (England)

USA - Alfred (England)

New Netherlands - Otto [deceased] (Netherlands)

New Sweden - Johan [deceased] (Sweden)

Liechtenstein - Liesl (Austria)

Australia - Jack (England)

Germany - Ludwig (Austria/Prussia)

Luxembourg - Henri (Belgium)

New Zealand - Liam (England)

Austria-Hungary - Edith [deceased] (Austria)

Sealand - Peter (England)

Freetown Christiania - Benedikte (Denmark)

Kugelmugel - Franz (Austria)

Ladonia - Arvid (Sweden)

(there are definitely more that could be in this list but for now they're who I have)

Answer 2. actual hc, about them interacting with each other.

Tbh its a good thing Germania isn't alive, bc sleepovers at grandpas would be insane with this group.

You know how with cousins there is absolutely the age gap groups? The group that gets to sit at the adult table first vs the group that's gonna be at the kids table for the next decade?

group 1 is Fiona to Dagny

group 2 is Mathieu to Liesl

group 3 is Jack to Edith

and group 4 is Peter to Arvid

Karl and Kirsi got to be their own group :p (too young for the viking age cousins, too old for the America's cousins (and brother))

they have a stupid tradition when they play board games at family reunions to leave 5 extra settings(?) for the game out.

They throw stuff at each other at UN meetings.

Half of them don't understand each other even if they're all speaking the same language. (Henri stopped trying to understand a single word from Jack years ago)

Because of travel and stuff they didn't see each other regularly until like 50 years ago.

Now they rarely go 2 months without a full blown get together.

Norways kids, so Fiona to Sia, claim absolute reign as the eldest kid :)

The elders have gotten in trouble multiple times for sneaking the youngers out

Benedikte technically only has one older sibling, and Karl is obviously not around anymore. So Norways kids are basically her surrogate siblings <3

Henri! is the only only child in the group! He's got only child habits! his cousins are hellbent on getting rid of those!

[kitsuneheartreviews]

Fantasy graphic novel: "Suitor Armor" Vol. 1 by Purpah (2024-11-12)

Now, this was just charming! And there appears to be a fair amount of worldbuilding to still discover past this first volume, which has me intrigued.

Orphaned at a young age, Lucia has spent most of her life as Lady-in-Waiting to the future queen, Kirsi. Luckily, the pair are good friends, and Kirsi is highly motivated to pair her attendant off with a good man. Really, short of the King himself, Lucia could pick any man in the kingdom!

But what if she doesn't pick a man?

Not, like. In the lesbian way.

In the monster-lover way.

What we're set up with is an interesting love triangle: an automaton and its creator, both smitten with the young woman.

But beyond the romance of the story, there's also this world working in the background. The kingdom (as yet unnamed in what I've read) is at war with the fairies. The King's knight champion is romantically paired with the perfectly wrong person. Magic is outlawed, and there's a vague threat of necromancy and human sacrifice. And the king is brooding over something.

This is going on my webtoon list! I'm glad I was picked by the publisher for an ARC to review.