#Endless mountains region

[alexanders-pokemon-adventure]

Endless Mountains Region Pokédex.

[swordgrace]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍.

⠀ཾ༵ 𑁍┆ cregan stark x fem!targtower!reader.

SYNOPSIS: a blissful marriage to an honorable man — it is more than you could’ve asked for. with the heir on the way, you make a request of your husband.

anonymous request. unofficial sequel to wolfsblood, dragonsblood.

{ FORMAT: one-shot — requested by anonymous.

{ WORD COUNT: 6.1K.

{ WARNINGS: SMUT (mdni), overprotective cregan, reader is pretty horny for cregan (valid), pregnancy, reader is pregnant, sexual activities while pregnant, cregan is a father in his mind, oral sex (fem!rec), cunnilingus, cregan loves munching, vaginal fingering, teasing, biting, hair-pulling kink, obvious size difference + size kink, slight face-riding, lots of cregan admiring in this one-shot, very soft ending + aftercare

{ AUTHOR’S NOTE: I love writing for Cregan so much, y’all don’t understand the depths of my adoration for him. I churned this out pretty quickly, but I loved writing it, Father Cregan is the best! I hope that you all enjoy, & thank you for your support! ❤️

𝐂𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐩, 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐬, 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐜𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬.

It was easier to breathe, you’d realized — King’s Landing had always been so stifling and pungent, the population too thick, the air acrid. Here, in the North, it was sprawling with open spaces, regions of untouched forest and unsettled countryside.

The bite of the harsh, Northern chill was not an easy adjustment to make after a lengthy life spent in Southern regions — the gnawing wind often seared your extremities, and it was not any easier on Silverwing. Fire ran through your veins, tempered by your tender heart and kindly disposition.

Your beloved husband would not have it any other way.

What had started as an unsteady, tumultuous betrothal marked by obvious bitterness from your family and wariness from his own House, had blossomed into a fruitful union. You couldn’t have asked for a better partner, and it made you realize how fortunate you were.

Snow was uncommon in most of the South, yet it remained constant in the North, mountains blanketed in endless horizons of white. It was a particularly icy day, winter winds stinging your cheeks, prickling your flesh with its pinpricks.

Mounds of pale, grayish fur swaddled your form, lined in the finest fleece, downy and plush against your skin. The trodden path to the Godswood was marked by frozen dirt, dusted over with a fresh layer of snowfall. Sprinkles of crystalline drops fell from the cloudy skies, and your breath emerged in hot wisps of air.

Lilac hues drifted toward the mountainous form of your husband, whose back was turned to you, swathed in the dappled pelt of a direwolf. Ice hung from his shoulder, a massive longsword of Valyrian Steel, an heirloom passed down through generations of House Stark.

Someday soon, it will pass to your firstborn son.

You recalled the night that you were wed, beneath the crimson leaves of the Weirwood Tree. It was serene, a moonlit dusk that struck the snow with an ethereal glow, your hands bound as you recanted your vows. It had been some moons now since that day, and you had only felt joy since then.

Cregan listened to the light crunch of snow beneath your footfalls as they reverberated throughout the Godswood, the pond frozen-over with a layer of ice. Pale bark marked with a foreign face peered back at him — this was a place that he and Rickon visited many times.

Before his little brother had passed, they pretended to fight wars here, forge their weapons, sticks found from the forest floor, and envision themselves as Knights. He could still feel his brother sometimes, his presence a whisper in the blood-red leaves, somewhere within the forest’s song.

Religion was a complicated thing for you. Your mother wielded the Faith of the Seven like a crudely-worn shortsword, letting it strike to her advantage even when it was rusty, at best. You had little interest in it, and Cregan seemed to respect your growing distance from your old roots. The Old Gods were his — you had nothing.

Inklings of snow drifted from the pale skies, growing darker as evening approached. The North became unyieldingly harsh after the sun began to wane, the sting of biting wind swirling around you, seeping into your bones. You were rather cold, but persisted for Cregan.

“Ser Rodrick said that I might find you here,” Silence dissipated, filled with the sound of your voice, as soft as feathers, a soothing balm. You stepped closer, beneath the boughs of the great tree, the canopy thick with vermillion leaves. “How are you faring?”

With Winter approaching, spreading its cold, brittle tendrils across the North, Cregan’s duties had increased tenfold. Preparing his people for winter, ensuring that food was plentiful, that they were safe — it was the burden of leadership, but there was no one better suited for it in your eyes.

“Well enough,” Cregan murmured, storm-colored hues drifting over the Weirwood tree before they turned to you, completely and utterly transfixed. You stole every wisp of air from his lungs with your beauty, clad in the trappings of his people. “I apologize for running off.”

An amiable smile crossed your features as you reached for your husband, slipping a gloved palm against the crook of his arm. “You needn’t apologize, husband. You are owed your solitude, and I wouldn’t dare tell you otherwise.” You have his bicep a gentle squeeze.

Cregan’s gaze softened, sparkling with a warmth reserved only for you, his beloved. Your presence always seemed to melt away his hardened exterior, but he much preferred it that way. He stepped closer, towering above you in all of his indomitable glory, craning down to press a kiss against your brow.

The gloved leather of his hand moved to cup your abdomen, and the growing life within. The joyous news of your pregnancy had been the talk of the North, the new Lady Stark, preparing to birth an heir of Winterfell. Those thick furs you wore obscured your belly quite well.

“I should be asking you how you fare, carrying our child,” Cregan insisted, gingerly caressing around your stomach with the pride of a doting husband. “Here you are, walking all this way to the Godswood, when it is I who should be by your side.” If there was one word to describe Cregan, it was overprotective.

Gods, he was attentive — if he did leave your side, he ensured that you were well looked-after, under the watchful protection of his guardsmen. You couldn’t fault your husband for his safeguarding nature, given that it was to be your firstborn.

Sometimes he forgot that you were a dragon-rider.

“Being beneath the open sky has done me a world of good, husband,” You mused, canting your head to one side. You were not completely round and waddling just yet — halfway through, as the Maester stated. “I cannot stand to look at that dreadful cobblestone for days on-end.”

Cregan did not protest, nor invalidate your claims. He was not the one carrying a child — he did not have a right to speak on behalf of you. A shiver rolled down your spine, due to the bitter chill of the wind, coupled with the encroaching snowfall.

Instead, he reached for your jaw, cupping your face within the roughened texture of his leather-clad palm, presenting you with a kiss. It was kept brief, yet the ardor lingered, as strong as a burning flame. “You are shivering, beloved. Let us return to the Keep.” He rumbled, shielding you beneath his cloak.

A respite from the cold would be welcome. Even if you possessed the blood of the Dragon, you did not fare well in such blisteringly glacial conditions. The thick cover of your husband’s cloak brought a sense of comfort, coupled with the natural heat that radiated from him.

Snow crunched beneath his heavy footfalls, your own masked by his boots. Cregan made sure to guide you every step of the way, hovering with his impressive shadow. “I have been contemplating a name for our child.” You spoke softly, a smile toying upon your lips.

“Have you?” Cregan appeared appeased, a stoic smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You don’t know if we are to have a son or a daughter.” He remarked, letting your hand wrap around the bulk of his forearm, guiding you through the Godswood.

“Perhaps not, but I wanted you to hear,” Such ideas had been stirring around within your mind for weeks, and with Cregan so preoccupied, you hadn’t broached the topic of conversation. “Gilliane, after your mother, should we have a daughter, and … Rickon.” You hesitated. “Should we have a son.”

Cregan’s steps began to slow, and he looked upon you with such love and devotion that it was nearly overwhelming. He couldn’t have loved you anymore if he tried — and he had tried. Towering over you, he pressed a kiss against the top of your head, one that blossomed with fondness.

You gave him the greatest honor of all — that of fatherhood, and now, you had bestowed upon him sentimental names, those of his family. Love flourished within his storm-colored hues, and he seemed to soften at your words. “You would honor me beyond words, wife. Do you not wish to pay tribute to your own family?”

Placing a hand over the growing swell of your stomach, you seemed somewhat indifferent to talk of your family. Helaena and Daeron were the exceptions in this, but it did not pain you any less. “I pay tribute by carrying our child,” You replied, your smile threadbare. “That is enough.”

Solemn, Cregan simply nodded, understanding your strained relationship with the family you had left behind in King’s Landing. From what you told him and from what he discerned, you seemed much happier here, liberated and free of such poisonous clutches. “Of course.” A soft rumble reverberated throughout his chest.

Winterfell’s snow-laden gates were now within reach, as guards in Stark tabards harkened the return of its Lord and Lady. He thoroughly enjoyed watching you interact with the denizens underneath his protection — you often greeted them with smiles and laughter.

He watched you grow into your station as Lady Stark, a growth that showed such promise. You had been shy around Northerners at first, but you now walked as if you had been in Winterfell your whole life. Cregan kept you close, his stance that of a protective husband, hovering above you with his hulking stature.

The Keep was close, and you could feel the crackling warmth of the hearth lick across your skin in the forefront of your mind. Cregan was characteristically stalwart, keeping you wedged against his side, swaddled in the thick furs of the direwolf.

Once inside, you welcomed the gust of warmer air. The Keep burned many fires and braziers when winter became sharp and bitter, your cheeks stinging from the cold. “Shall we retire this evening, or are you lacking in nourishment?” Cregan inquired, knowing that your penchant for foodstuffs had increased while pregnant.

“Could something be brought to our chambers? Perhaps a stew or a broth, that sounds rather warming.” As if on-queue, your stomach lurched with inklings of famish, as if your child also demanded something to eat.

“It will be done,” With his stoic assurance, your husband bent down to press a kiss against your temple, smoothing a palm across your back. “I will join you shortly, wife.” Cregan had a tendency to walk the Keep before retiring — spare a word to the guards, those in the kitchens, and anyone underneath his care.

“Do not keep me waiting for too long.” You mused, lips curving into a warm smile that could melt even the hardiest of ice — including that of your husband. The vulnerability that seemed to come to him in your presence was a comforting thing.

With a soft huff, Cregan cupped your chin, looking upon you with tempestuous hues, as gray as a winter’s storm. “I wouldn’t dare.” He assured, presenting you with a tender kiss. Gods, you had sorely missed his mouth in many ways, and you were swift to reciprocate.

After you had become with-child, fuller and round with the heir to Winterfell, you had not engaged Cregan as much in terms of intimacy. He wanted you to relax, to not have to lift a finger. You missed your husband in more ways than one, giving way to your own basic desires and carnal instincts.

The kiss possessed a charged edge, tension looming above, the fringes of it seeping into your lips. You held onto his forearm, an audible sigh slipping past your mouth when Cregan withdrew. He could detect your yearning — the sentiment was a mutual one, but he feared hurting you, as any man would.

With a gentle hum, you allowed your husband to leave you, watching as his impressive form encapsulated all space within the corridor he walked in. You let him tend to his duties, and you made for the spiraling stairwell, making your way to your chambers without a hitch.

Thick, wooden doors gave way to the sanctuary within, the hearth being stoked and tended-to by one of the servants. “I thought you might want it warm, m’lady.” She mused, having laid out a series of new wardrobes for you across the foot of your bed.

“Thank you, Tanea.” The new gowns and dresses seemed to be made with your new specifications in-mind, accommodating for your growing belly. Part of you felt self-conscious when it came to your pregnancy — you no longer seemed to fit into your own skin.

“You must be excited, with the babe on the way,” Tanea was easy to speak with, an exuberant young woman with cherubic features. “Your Lord-Husband certainly is.” She chimed, finishing with the hearth as she moved about.

“Is he?” Cregan was sometimes difficult to read, countenance permanently etched with that stoic Northern scowl of his, but you knew how happy he was. Knowing that your servants could see it filled you with delight. “I may need your assistance, Tanea.”

“Very much so, m’lady. He speaks as if he is a father already,” She fluttered to your side, assisting you in relinquishing the weight of your fur cloak and overcoat you wore. Tanea arranged the garments back into the large, wooden wardrobe. “Do you need anything else?”

“I do not,” You smiled, moving to sit atop the fur-laden footlocker at the end of your shared bed. “You have my gratitude, Tanea.” The girl curtsied, a proper gesture, before making her way from your chambers.

Intrigued, you happened to admire the new gowns strewn across your bed, many of them styled in the Northern way of dress, save for your evening shifts. One in particular caught your eye, made of sage-hued silk, translucent and frilly, the sleeves billowing.

Pinching the fabric between your fingers, you decided on wearing it to bed, pushing yourself up right as you organized the rest elsewhere, into the space of your wardrobe. Heavy footfalls resonated outside of your door, with it creaking open to give way to Cregan.

Your mountain of a husband carried two bowls of steaming stew, placing them down along the small, rounded table. The intricate carving of a wolf rested along the table’s edge, made of wood from the Wolfswood. “Are you tired?” He inquired, removing Ice from his shoulders, scabbard and all, placing it near his bedside.

After you had become with-child, he kept it close, in case of any unsightly, dire circumstances. He would not ever allow himself to be defenseless in your presence. You had thought it to be somewhat overly cautious, but you did not dissuade him otherwise.

“Not really,” You hummed, reaching for the many pins keeping your braids in-place. You removed them one by one, placing the ruby-studded needles upon your vanity. It felt better to let your hair down, pale tresses cascading across your shoulders in soft waves. “I am perfectly awake.”

Cregan’s visage was one of clear appreciation and adoration as he stepped closer, admiring the way you looked. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.” He insisted, hands moving to assist you in unlacing your dress. This was a common practice with each passing night — you enjoyed it.

Warmth crept along your features as you stood still, allowing him to untie your bodice with his calloused fingers, until the garment loosened. “You are much too kind, husband.” Stepping from your gown, you were left in a white slip, one that had grown somewhat uncomfortable with its tightness.

“It is not a kindness, but the plain truth.” Cregan replied, pressing a kiss against the pale crown of your head, inhaling a gust of your saccharine scent. “You are my beautiful wife.” He affirmed with a grunt, and moved away to change into his own smallclothes. Abandoning his leather and armor always felt unusual for him.

There was no debating your husband, whose stubbornness was sometimes renowned. Instead, you smiled, abandoning the snug, ivory fabric for your field of sage, hastily pulling it on over the swell of your stomach.

It gave you ample time to observe Cregan, whose musculature ensnared you time and time again. He was impressively thick, broad-shouldered and built like the Wall itself. Seeing him standing there in just his trousers made something hot stir between your legs.

You crept forward, shamelessly wrapping your arms around him from behind, and you could feel a tremor throughout his body when he huffed. “I have a handsome husband, a perfect husband — and that is the plain truth.” You hummed, cold cheek burying itself against the warmth of his skin.

Wordlessly, you peppered soft kisses against his spine, and to any scars and bruises that you could see. You listened to the sharp exhale from your husband, who did not protest your actions. Your lips felt like the kiss of snow, still cold from the chilly outdoors.

Cregan let you stay that way, and in-truth, he enjoyed it thoroughly. Those large, calloused hands placed themselves atop yours, lifting both to his lips as he kissed your knuckles. He let them drop, and you caressed him wherever you could. The gesture was soft, but he couldn’t deny the growing sensuality present between you both.

“For the blood of the dragon, your hands run cold, wife.” Cregan rumbled, soothingly tracing his fingers across your wrist, feeling your physique against his back, including the swell of your belly. You pressed your palms against his abdomen, able to feel the taut, subtle muscle there.

“It is a good thing that I have you to warm them,” The silky, soft resonance of your voice brought him comfort. You sounded so relaxed and blissful, feeling him sluggishly turn around within your hold. Cregan cupped your cheek, rough pad of his thumb tracing across your lips. You kissed his thumb. “Kiss me.”

Cregan’s lips twitched into the ghost of a smile, and he instead gestured to the meal he’d brought with him. “Once you eat and have proper sustenance, I might indulge you then, beloved.” He mused, noticing the twinge of disappointment on your face.

“Might?” There was an upward inflection within your tone, as if the mere suggestion of might had offended you to some degree. Your burly husband then caged you within his embrace, palms soothingly caressing along your hips. “Must you insist on tormenting me?” You teased.

With a low grunt, Cregan reached for his tunic, eyes twinkling with mirth. “For now.” Tugging on the dark blue linen of his nightshirt, he gestured for you to eat, sitting beside you at the table. His own chair groaned in protest, and before he knew it, you were devouring your stew.

A mouthful of warm, seasoned broth filled your maw, accompanied with hearty chunks of venison and stewed vegetables. The cuisine in the North differed greatly from the South, not that you minded. You often felt more fulfilled after meals than you used to.

“Gods, that was wonderful,” You groaned, the stew satisfying your cravings. It warmed you to the bone, causing a shudder to roll down your spine as you finished, nudging the bowl aside. “I could eat several servings of that.” Your confession prompted Cregan to smirk.

“Famished, were you?” Cregan mused, watching as you moved out of your chair, cradling your stomach with one hand. He very nearly rushed to assist you, but he knew you would’ve swatted him aside.

“Quite, but I am eating for two. Your child needs it as much as I do,” You remarked, wandering toward the hearth as you extended one palm toward the fire. The comforting heat licked across your flesh, the orange light dancing over your features. “Much better.”

Cregan joined you not long after, guiding you to sit atop the large footlocker at the end of your marital bed, closest to the open flames. His rough fingertips glided over the plane of sage-hued silks, as he admired your womanly form through the fabric. “This suits you.” He rumbled, gently tugging on the silk to accentuate his point.

“Tanea had the seamstress craft me new clothing, given that I’ve grown quite a bit,” Admittedly, you felt some insecurity in your current state, afraid that your husband may not enjoy you as he once had. “I am glad that you like it, husband. I was worried that you wouldn’t.”

Perplexed, chestnut brows furrowed together, his countenance one of clear concern. Slipping an arm behind you, he calmly stroked your side, silently beseeching you to tell him of your worries. He knew what it pertained to, even if it was left unspoken. “Your worries are misplaced. I love you.” He assured.

“It isn’t just that, I — I suppose I feared that you wouldn’t still enjoy me this way. Most husbands in the capital seemed so disinterested when their wives began to show.” This wasn’t the South, and Cregan was as far from a disinterested husband as one could get. He kissed your jaw, letting you rest against him.

“You are carrying our child, the heir to Winterfell — I would continue to love you regardless of what your body might look like. Damn the Southerners,” Cregan murmured, planting a hand atop your belly. “I look at you and I see my wife — I see perfection. My heart calls your name.” For a man so rugged and rough, his words made your blood surge with exhilaration.

Joining his hand, you placed your palm atop his, the one firmly perched against your belly. If Cregan were being truthful with himself, he found you to be painfully beautiful like this, swollen with his child, knowing that he put a pup in you. Those lascivious fantasies had now become reality.

“Ñuha dōna zokla,” My sweet wolf — your High Valyrian often brought him to heel, bringing out the siren’s lull within your voice. Cregan had made a valiant effort to learn some of the language for you, but it never sounded as pleasant on his Northern tongue. “I am yours.” You beamed, lilac hues glistening with ardor.

Bringing a calloused palm to your face, he traced the fine plane of your cheekbone, reveling in the velveteen texture of your flesh. A wolf, brought to heel at his dragon’s side. Cregan studied your Valyrian features, basking in your beauty, coaxing you in for a kiss.

Your mouth was disarmingly soft, catching him off-guard, stealing away all of his coherency. He felt you turn inward, palm planting itself against the thick, corded muscle of his thigh, gripping him tightly as he deepened your kiss.

Something warm stirred within him, a longing to feel your body against his, able to detect the hitch within your breath as he drew you closer. Your wanton need radiated from you in thick, permeating waves, enough to bring him into the intricate web of your desire.

“Easy, wife.” Cregan rumbled, wanting to temper your carnality before it raged into that of a dragon’s flame. Your pleading gaze suggested otherwise, prompting him to caress along the length of your spine. “I do not wish to hurt you.”

A begrudging sigh escaped your lips as you incessantly tugged at his tunic, staring at your husband with furrowed brows. “You wouldn’t,” You uttered, tracing your fingers over his heart. “We do not have to commit the entire act. I simply want to enjoy you in other ways — I miss it.”

Subtlety wasn’t your strongest suit, and Cregan knew this. Arousal stirred within him, cock twitching at your lascivious insinuations. “Hm,” A soft growl left him, one that seemed to share your sentiments. “Is that what my lady commands of me?” He murmured, holding you close.

“She does,” You hummed, treating him to a playful smile as you reached for his chestnut tresses. One of your hands slithered beneath his tunic, feeling along the solid, thick muscle of his abdomen. He stroked at your belly, a stern hum reverberating within his throat. “Gods, I need you.” You exhaled.

With your need laid bare, Cregan heeded you with a fire swirling within his gut. His hand dipped down to the apex of your thighs, pushing beneath your silken shift until he found your cunt. Gods, you were wet already, a tantalizing thing, one that he found delight in.

“You are warm already, beloved.” Cregan’s thunderous timbre raked down your spine, effortlessly gaining your subservience with ease. You shivered, feeling his thick fingers deftly caress across your slit, teasing and toying with you, gathering your slick.

Feather-light touches would have to suffice as Cregan lazily pressed one digit against your clit. His mouth found the slender expanse of your neck, delivering hot, passionate kisses against your throat.

A simpering whine tore past your parted lips, one filled with such urgency as you shifted closer, writhing against the sensation of his hand. Any lick of friction would do, consuming your body with its amatory heat. He grunted into the hollow of your throat, kissing you wherever you could.

Your own mouth found the impressive bulk of his shoulder, seeking to bring your teeth into his flesh. A sonorous, rumbling grunt left your husband when you bit him, leaving behind the crescent marks of your teeth. If it weren’t for your pregnancy, he would’ve marked you in this way, too.

Seeking the softness of your mouth, Cregan’s mouth twitched into a threadbare smirk as he kissed you hard, letting it linger as his hand withdrew from your skirts. A groan of disappointment left you, but he intended on making up for it fully.

He moved off of the footlocker, planting a lasting kiss against your brow. Towering over you, Cregan’s shadow eclipsed most flickers of firelight, gray hues swirling with warmth as he bent the knee to you, his beloved. It was a mesmerizing sight, one that you reveled in.

His massive musculature bullied its way between your thighs, warm palms shifting to caress along your legs, from ankle to calf. He had never seen someone as resplendent as you, breathtakingly beautiful, the blood of the dragon, his wife.

Gathering your skirts within your hands, you fisted the silks, dragging them up until they pooled around your hips. Warm lips embraced the crook of your knee, peppering kisses across your leg, until he reached the velvet flesh of your inner thighs.

Your hips began to tilt forward, seeking the pleasant heat of his mouth, a heat that he gladly granted you time and time again. Cregan kissed his way to the slick warmth between your legs, a thunderous exhale escaping him, chest vibrating with a grunt.

Cregan gingerly adjusted your position, letting your legs rest against his broad shoulders, your back sloped against the furs and footboard of your bed. He pressed a kiss against your mound, nose buried near your pelvis before he made his descent.

A warm lap of his tongue dragged itself over your core, like hot embers raking across your cunt. You sighed, blissfully succumbing to wanton desire, reaching for his crown of chestnut tresses, gripping at the back of his skull. “Cregan.” You whined, head rolling forward just a bit.

Pale waves framed your face, countenance contorted into an expression of sheer and utter bliss, brows furrowing together. Your husband happily found his solace between your legs, mouth pressing hot kisses across your cunt. His hand gripped at your haunch, the other trailing against your leg.

It was ambrosial, your taste; a finest stout, sweetest of nectars that stained his lips with your perfection. Cregan lapped at your cunt, dutiful and attentive, ensuring to find every spot that made you gasp for air.

Nimble digits fisted into the furs at your side, mouth agape as a myriad of throaty moans escaped you. Your hand roamed through his tresses, tugging and pulling whenever his tongue graced the pearl of your cunt.

Splitting past your folds, Cregan tasted every inch of you, tongue seeking your cunt with a fervor. He was vigorous in his ministrations, not shying away from consuming every drop of your arousal. His nose brushed against your mound, hands kneading into your thighs to reassure you, let you know that he had you.

Any inkling of roughness had dissipated from him in the wake of your pregnancy, replaced with a passionate devotion, a rapture reserved only for you. His strong hands held you close, caressing you wherever he could.

You tasted sweet upon his tongue, honey-thick and a feast to sate his appetite. If he would choose his fate, it would be in between your legs, listening to the myriad of moans and throaty whimpers leave you. It was satisfying to know how much you enjoyed this; derived pleasure from it.

A tremor gripped your legs, little spasms of delight making their way throughout your body. Cregan’s mouth forged a blazing path from the hood of your cunt to your entrance, tongue greedy and hot, before he went back up again, seeking your sensitive pearl.

“Cregan!” Gods, he brought you such pleasure, a pleasure that seemed to seep into your very bones, sate your endless yearning, for now. Your legs curled inward, tight atop his shoulders as you rocked yourself into his mouth, doing little to suppress the volume of your moans.

He pressed closer with a wolf’s appetite, throat burning with carnal hunger as he continued to lap at your slick cunt. Your arousal felt honey-thick upon his tongue, something reserved only for him, chin glistening with your nectar. Your legs squeezed at his head, and he knew that he pleasured you well.

Molten heat churned within the pit of your stomach, a sensation that you had been longing to feel again. Cregan did not relent, yet he happened to slow just enough to savor you, dragging his tongue toward that clutch of nerves at the hood of your cunt.

As soon as he pursed his lips around your clit, you nearly forgot your own name, thoughts completely derailed, scattered into a blissful abyss. Your body reacted with shivers and tremors, hand gripping at the nape of his neck with a reckless abandon.

Your back arched slightly, collarbone glittering with perspiration through the thick, warm haze of your chambers. The hearth had brought about a feverish heat, coupled with the throes of your intimate entanglement. Cregan derived satisfaction from your pleasure, delighted to please his wife.

Pliant flesh filled his palm as he cupped your derrière, bringing you closer, letting you grind yourself against his mouth, use him and take whatever you needed. A grunt stirred within his chest, reverberating within his throat as he went about seeking your clit, suckling on the pearl of your cunt.

“Oh Gods,” You moaned, nearly clasping a hand over your mouth to hide the salaciousness of your voice. Surely, the servants had heard you by now — you would be fortunate if all of Winterfell didn’t hear you. “I — I’m close!” Rocking forward again, you let out a whimper.

With a strangled whine, you desperately chased after your release, one that you had sorely needed. Cregan’s cock twitched at the sound of your delicious moans, a shudder rolling down his spine whenever you whimpered his name. “That’s it,” He rumbled, hot breath fanning over your core. “Go on.” His encouragement was softly spoken through his Northern timbre.

He wanted to stay there, rooted between your legs, mouth consuming your cunt as if it were his last meal; a man wrought with starvation.

Cregan favored it, thoroughly reveling in the way your body reacted to him, visceral and ecstatic. He gingerly suckled on your clit, feeling your fingers tighten within his chestnut locks, gripping him tight. He wanted you to have your release, built upon this pent-up feeling.

He could feel your encroaching release, feel the tension in your grasp, the way you let your hips continue to lurch forward. Without relenting, Cregan continued to suck at your clit, letting it intermingle with hot laps of his tongue, dutiful and fervent between your legs.

A comfortable silence filled the gap between you, intermingled with the sounds of your pleasured cries and Cregan’s sonorous grunts. That heated coil within your stomach began to unfurl, bringing an onslaught of arousal with it as you bucked into his mouth.

At last, your peak consumed you in a white-hot oblivion, and you very nearly saw the stars themselves. With a strangled gasp, your legs tightened on either side of his head, followed by a blissful rush of liquid heat. Your grip began to slack upon his tresses, chest heaving from exertion.

Cregan lingered there for a few moments more, tongue caressing your cunt, cleaning up any last drop of your nectar. His mouth glistened with it when he did inevitably withdraw, lashing across his lips before he kissed your thighs, showering you in affection.

“Do you feel better?” He mused, kissing the crook of your knee before standing to his feet. You were positively hot, feeling a feverish warmth crawl across your skin, thighs shaking in the aftermath. You hastily adjusted your slip, regarding him with a gracious expression.

“Very much,” Your confession made him smirk as he helped you into bed, abandoning his tunic at the iron-wrought foot. As he settled down, you joined him, curled within the space at his side. “Would you like me to return the favor?”

Cregan never expected you to do anything that you didn’t want to — never feel obligated, either. He would survive without a night of release. “Tomorrow, perhaps.” He murmured, moving to rest a hand against the swell of your stomach, caressing your growing bump.

“Thank you, husband — for everything.” A gentle hum left you as you placed your hand over his, allowing him to protectively cradle your stomach. You let your head rest against his shoulder, his arm holding you at his side.

A bemused huff escaped him as he peered at you with mirthful hues, gray eyes that resembled a thunderstorm. “You needn’t thank me,” He assured, briefly pressing a kiss to your temple. “You needn’t ask for it, either.” Cregan enjoyed the taste of your cunt more than anything else.

You couldn’t help but smile, sheepishly moving to press a kiss against his jaw. “I love you,” You sighed, letting your ardor for him be known as you felt your eyes grow heavy. “Tomorrow, I would like for us to see Silverwing. She grows lonely in my absence.”

Cregan knew how much the creature meant to you. He had met Silverwing before, but he dared not climb upon her back — you’d asked it of him several times before. “Of course, beloved.” He murmured, basking in the heat of the firelight.

A sharp, fluttering sensation blossomed throughout your abdomen, prompting you to gasp. It was sudden and unexpected, but not painful. It was foreign, and had been happening on rare occasions.

“What is it?” Cregan questioned, visibly concerned before you dismissed it with a bright, delighted smile. You gently guided his hand elsewhere atop your stomach, pale brows furrowing together as you searched for the source.

“There,” You mused, joyous laughter escaping you as another kick fluttered against your joined hands. “Do you feel it?” It was heartwarming to watch the happiness glisten within his eyes, the way in which he adjusted his position to truly feel. Cregan’s true smiles were a rarity, and you saw it now.

The blood of the wolf and the dragon stirred within, prompting you to smile appreciatively at your husband. This was something the both of you had made with your love, the heir to Winterfell. “They seem strong,” Cregan remarked, leaning over to plant a kiss against your brow. “Perfect, just like their mother.”

His hand never left your belly, even as he maneuvered the furs over the both of you, letting you move to lay against the warm expanse of his chest. Cregan exhaled, staring into the dying embers of the heart, tracing his digits along the swell of your stomach.

“Strong, just like their father.” You whispered, pressing a kiss against his jaw before you settled down for slumber, shielded by the protective grasp of your Lord-husband.

[nadas-dirthalen]

Dragon Age: the Veilguard Was Packed with Lore — But Many of Us Overlooked It

— PART ONE — [ 2 ]

Welcome back, friends and travellers. If you've been here a while, you'll know that I wrote 30,000 words of predictions in the week and a half before DA:tV released. But here's the most surprising thing—I was right, for the most part.

I spent my first Veilguard playthrough grinning (and then sobbing) at all the lore reveals. And here's the thing: I think most of us missed a lot of them, including even me.

So let's begin with...

Titans: Dark and Light, Compassion and Rage, the Eternal Hymn and its Endless Listeners (1/2)

This is your warning: This post will contain spoilers for the entirety of Dragon Age: the Veilguard, and all Dragon Age content made before Veilguard.

Alright, pals. If you've been here a while, you know how this goes. I always start by listing what we're going to cover, like anyone who's never fully recovered from academia.

Today's Discussion:

What Veilguard (Re)Taught Us about the Titans

The Titans the first Shapers of the known world.

The Titans are beings of the Abyss.

The Titans are sleeping, dormant—but alive.

Dwarves are the Titans' children, created to tend them.

The Evanuris mined the Titans' bodies to create people.

The Titans—the Earth—fought back.

What Veilguard (Re)Taught Us about the Titans

The best thing about Dragon Age, as someone who loves the series to death, is that its worldbuilding is consistent, but also bears the unique quality that we, as players, are not aware of it all. Our protagonists in each game don't know everything; the people they learn from also don't know everything. We learn what we can through codices that are all biased and need an extra layer of decoding. This is a feature, not a bug.

It also means that we did not know how to understand the Titans before. Even my 30,000 words of theorycrafting, especially my piece all about the Titans, had elements of speculation. I had to check that speculation against other sources like the Chant of Light, which is a source that we REALLY did not know how to decode when it was revealed piece by piece in DAO, DA2, World of Thedas, and Inquisition.

Here, I'm going to break it all down, piece by piece.

The Titans were the first Shapers of the (known) world.

It is said in the Descent DLC that Titans are enormous beings whose singing shapes the world. Their existence predates much of Thedas, if not all of it. The Titans are called the first Shapers for this reason, and in Veilguard it is restated several times over that they did, indeed, shape the world—for instance, by Cole in Inquisition.

"Their ancient shapers were mountains drawn of all their wills, walking their memories into valleys of the world." —Cole dialogue.

Inquisition told us so much more about the Titans than just that, though. The Titans have a realm all their own, a counterpart to the Fade, mentioned over and again in the Chant of Light and referenced as a quest name in Inquisition.

Here lies the abyss: the well of all souls.

The Titans are beings of the Abyss.

Now, it's important that I mention right here that the Chant of Light has existed long before Inquisition. In fact, its tale is what opens DA:O as the game begins. Recently Eurogamer stated that BioWare has had a massive lore document for the 20+ years of its existence, and I believe that there is no truer example of this than in the Chant of Light itself.

The Abyss, for a long time, was a mystery to us. Inquisition cleared it up a lot—not only with its game content, but with World of Thedas' publication shortly thereafter.

Not only is the Abyss referred to in many elven codices, but we go there. The key locations of the Descent DLC—the Forgotten Caverns, Bastion of the Pure, and the Wellspring—are in a region called the Uncharted Abyss.

Now, with Harding, we go deeper into the Deep Roads than the average dweller. The same is true in that instance: venture down far enough, and we reach a Titan's heart.

We find a Titan's heart there. But the Titan does not wake—none have before DA:tV, and even then, they have not fully woken. Because, for as long as we have known...

The Titans are sleeping, dormant—but alive.

"It's singing. A they that's an it that's asleep, but still making music." — Cole dialogue.

There is so much Cole dialogue in Inquisition that speaks on the sleeping Titans, on their old songs that once sang the same, on how they will never wake up, that it would be folly to try and post every codex here. Suffice it to say: Cole knows of the Titans, knows of their songs, and knows they are asleep. He is one of the pathways to our knowledge of the Titans in Inquisition, and his words are peppered throughout the game.

The Chant of Light also makes reference to a mountainous Maker, who oft speaks about a forgotten mountain. When Andraste meets the Maker "in darkness unbroken," specifically, these words are used:

The Maker Appears to Andraste (7) Eyes sorrow-blinded, in darkness unbroken There 'pon the mountain, a voice answered my call. "Heart that is broken, beats still unceasing, An ocean of sorrow does nobody drown. — Andraste 1:7

Heart that is broken, beats still unceasing — a being who has been broken, but whose heart still beats. We can hear that, in the Descent DLC.

Veilguard confirms that both sources are true through Harding, her personal quest, and the codices for the Dwarven people.

Records that exist outside of Orzammar mention "great sleeping Titans" and "the First Ancestors." — Codex Entry: Harding's Notes: Orzammar and Titans

Harding's experiences in Veilguard, in this way, serve to prove Cole right. That is a deliberate narrative choice: BioWare's way of saying, Yes, this is true. Yes, you should take Cole's take on Titans as correct.

We also know, from Cole, that this state of being is permanent. Not only are the Titans asleep, but they don't know how to wake.

Songs screaming far away. It wants to wake up but can't remember how. No one should be here. — Cole dialogue.

This becomes crucial information in Veilguard, and central to the main plot. It serves as the backdrop for what actually matters most to the characters living in Thedas right now, which is...

Dwarves are the Titans' children, created to tend them.

By now, a lot of people have seen this reveal in the art book: the dwarves were created to tend to their Titan hosts/makers. But we knew this before—we just didn't know it in context, and therefore we did not believe it to be objectively true of Thedas.

In truth, we've known about the elves and the dwarves' origin since the Chant of Light came out in full with World of Thedas volume 2.

At last did the Maker From the living world Make men. Immutable, as the substance of the earth, With souls made of dream and idea, hope and fear, Endless possibilities. — Threnodies 5:5

I talk about it in more depth in my Chant of Light dissection, but what this verse says in context is that the dwarves (the Maker's second children) are beings crafted by the maker: bodies made of lyrium, souls made of the same "dream and idea, hope and fear" as the original spirits.

This concept has already been massively hinted toward with both Valta (who has become The Oracle in DA:tV) and Dagna, who both connect to isatunoll during Descent and Inquisition's base game, respectively.

We've known about the Evanuris' horrible crimes since before Inquisition, as well, for the same reason and from the same verses in the Chant of Light.

Until, at last, some of the firstborn said: "Our Father has abandoned us for these lesser things. We have power over heaven. Let us rule over earth as well And become greater gods than our Father." (8) The demons appeared to the children of earth in dreams And named themselves gods, demanding fealty. — Threnodies 5

With the context given to us by Trespasser and Veilguard, we know without a doubt that the Evanuris are those "jealous spirits" that comprise the Maker's first children.

And just like the Chant describes, they sought to conquer the earth: the realm of the Titans.

The Evanuris mined the Titans' bodies to create people.

Trespasser taught us so much of what we needed to know about the Evanuris' and Titans' conflicts. Its codices in the Deep Roads outline how it was Mythal, specifically, creating some of the first elves in the coffins found in that zone. The Temple of Solasan features coffins of the exact same kind.

Ir sa tel'nal Mythal las ma theneras Ir san'a emma Him solas evanuris Da'durgen'lin Banal malas elgara Bellanaris, bellanaris. — Codex: Torn Notebook in the Deep Roads, Section 3

My (updated) translation: Isatunoll Mythal gives you dreams Lyrium within Becomes Solas evanuris Little stone boy You give nothing to the Titan (anymore) Forever, forever.

Trespasser reveals that Mythal mined the bodies of slain titans and rendered their demesne unto the People: she conquered Titans and used their bodies for her own ends. The hints about these actions, however, are not exclusive to Trespasser, nor to Solasan. These seeds were planted all the way back at the Temple of Mythal.

Elgar'nan, Wrath and Thunder, Give us glory. Give us victory, over the Earth that shakes our cities. Strike the usurpers with your lightning. Burn the ground under your gaze. Bring Winged Death against those who throw down our work. Elgar'nan, help us tame the land.

This codex to Elgar'nan makes reference to Elgar'nan giving victory over the Earth (capital-E, the Titans). Trespasser would follow this up with much context—that it was Mythal who was first known to have slain Titans, "rendering their demesne unto the People."

I theorized that Mythal's mining of Titans for lyrium to make elvhen bodies was what angered the Titans, based on codices in Trespasser and the Temple of Solasan. (I go into much more depth there!) Veilguard confirms this theory in Solas' Memory #4: A Memory of Manifestation.

Solas: I have the Fade. Besides, this talk of taking on a solid form. When you took the glowing stone to build your body, did the earth not shake? Mythal: The lyrium gives us the strength we had when we were of the Fade. We are the best of physical and spirit.

Mythal's crime was what took the war with the Titans in a new, darker direction. It was what would set off the chain of events that would change the very nature of the world—and it was foreshadowed, back in Inquisition, by Cole.

The Titans—the Earth—fought back.

"They made bodies from the earth, and the earth was afraid. It fought back, but they made it forget." — Cole dialogue.

In this post, I theorized that it was Solas' creation itself that caused the first Titan to "go red." That is to say, to change its nature and fight back. I used codices from Trespasser and Solasan to get there, as well as one paragraph from World of Thedas and this codex on Fen'Harel that describe the Forgotten Ones as "beings of terror, malice, spite, and pestilence."

Thinking about those words, and specifically terror, I read the codex in the secret Deep Roads room in Trespasser with fresh perspective.

For a moment, the scent of blood fills the air, and there is a vivid image of green vines growing and enveloping a sphere of fire. The vision grows dark. An aeon seems to pass. Then the runes crackle, as if filled with an angry energy. A new vision appears: elves collapsing caverns, sealing the Deep Roads with stone and magic. Terror, heart-pounding, ice-cold, as the last of the spells is cast.

Terror. The first of the turned Titans. The fire/plant/ice imagery also caught my eye, and when I went back to Solasan to check, there were many hints that this was, indeed, where Terror came into being. (For more, go look at the most recently linked post in this section!)

Huge implications for Solas aside, what this codex taught me is that Titans' natures could change. This was confirmed in Veilguard many times over, yes—but my point here is that Inquisition taught this to me, just a few days before I gained the context of Veilguard. This was never a retcon! However, this lore plays exactly to BioWare's rules: we did not have the full context, and so almost no one read that Deep Roads codex as it was meant to be interpreted—including me, the first few times I read it!

It was only when I'd seen the achievement icons before Veilguard's release that it all clicked for me. All of the lore of Inquisition and everything before it made sense. That was never a bug, never a retcon, but a genius twist on BioWare's behalf: one that almost no one guessed at for an entire decade.

One that changes everything.

Titans, we know for certain now, behave as spirits. Obscure hints in World of Thedas, Inquisition, and the previous games have been confirmed in Veilguard. This new understanding changes not just the Titans, not just the dwarves, but reframes everything we know about the entire history of Thedas and how its magic system works.

______

Thank you for reading! It means a lot when people engage with these. And don't worry: I'm not nearly through with them. It's taken me a while to compile everything, but with more of Veilguard added to the wiki every day, it's a lot easier to compile things for these posts!

(Immense thanks to the wiki staff, of course. <3)

Up Next: Titans and Spirits are far more similar than we think, and it means everything.

[kerryshifts]

shifting in italy? don’t worry. gotcha.

note: italy in this reality is full of bigots. so, it's like a romanticised version .... so script out those things if you want the movie-like experience. and no global warming…. i’ll make a list at the end.

italy is a peninsula, except for sardinia and sicily. so, your experience will be different depending on which part you are. you are not only italian, but you are also your region... the most important thing, dare i say? south and north despise each other, while the centre is chilling because no one ever remembers them (which is hilarious, because the capital is there). this is going to be very detailed.

act i, location. where do you live?

NORTH-WEST ...

valle d'aosta. smallest region of italy, where you are living the heidi lifestyle. you are near some of the highest mountains ever: monte bianco, cervino, monte rosa, gran paradiso. so, pretty cold. you have christmas full of snow, and while driving you will probably meet some goats and their shepherd. they always have something profound to say. if you like hiking, it's perfect for you. imagine drinking hot chocolate while the old people of your small town talk about their experiences of when they were young.

liguria. near the sea; the tarquoise waters are the wet dream of the fishermen. you are still surrounded by cliffs and your small towns are an ode to love. this vibe is mainly created by the sunsets and the wine, which you are probably drinking because they don't really care about your age. drinking some kind of alcohol while snacking (sometimes smoking) and laughing with your friends is culture.

lombardia. perfect for pretentious people... just kidding. if you are a fan of big cities, there's milan. city of fashion, chic, and aspiring famous people. everyone is in rush, the trains are never on time, taxis stop every three seconds. everyone has shopping bags in the hands and the bars are always full of people. if you like something more romantic, lakes como and garda are perfect. with the alpine breeze, eating risotto ... paradise on earth.

piemonte. castles everywhere. and wine (are you noticing a pattern here?). turin is full of story and art, and everything looks like a medieval revival. an ice cream shop can be in a 600 years old home, and your school definitely has the name of some historical figure who changed history in some way. the baroque streets are full of people yapping to their friends or family, and you will feel like an noble if you dress up.

NORTH-EST ...

trentino-alto adige. the fresh mountain air, crystal clear lakes, alpine villages. guardian of a remarkable cultural heritage of confluence between latin and nordic worlds. also unique wines (are we alcoholics?) are shaped by the alpine landscape, tended to by experienced wine-growers, and prized throughout the world.

veneto. the canals of venice are the definition of romance. gondolas gliding under ancient bridges, region of romeo and juliet. full of secret alleys who lead god-knows-where. the carnival is known world-wide and probably the best thing that ever happened to mankind... after wine. (did i mention that people here love alcohol?)

friuli-venezia giulia. beautiful sandy and pebble beaches where you can read a book. cultural excursions (schools always go there for excursions) historic towns, castles, fine wines and cuisine, unspoiled nature. very underrated and often forgotten by everyone in italy (or is it just me...?) but a GEM.

emilia-romagna. prosciutto. pasta. what a dream. the medieval towers rise as beautiful as they once were, the scent of the typical italian food hangs in the air like an invitation. its nickname is indeed the food valley of europe. ancient shops, and the art??? ugh!!!! it's also the home of the communists.... if you are interested;)

CENTRE...

toscana. endless vineyards, rustic farmhouses, hills where you can sit and watch the sunrise. art is everywhere. you BREATHE art. florence is literally the city of architecture. having long conversations under cypress trees. lies along the tyrrhenian and ligurian seas. what do you want more (the wine is probably the best one you'll ever have the pleasure to taste).

umbria. the green heart of italy. located right in the centre of the state. rich in art, history and culture, this region is also famous for its wine and olive oil tradition.... because yes wine is everywhere. also the porchetta. what a pleasure is to eat something as tasty as the porchetta from umbria.

marche. no one seems to remember them. but, it's a gem. reinassance towns and streets, and the adriatic coastline right next to them. the countryside is full of olive groves. the resteraunts?? a blessing. olive all'ascolana ... i dream about them every night.

lazio. rome, the eternal city, is here. and this says everything. stories have been written for millennia. filled with passion, art, and culture. and food. the food is so good.

SOUTH...

abruzzo. from the apennine mountains, to ancient villages, people eating porchetta, to unspoiled beaches. well known for its landscapes and natural environment, parks and nature reserves, characteristic hillside areas rich in vineyards and olive groves.

molise. the long-running joke is that it doesn't actually exist. everyone always forgets about them. quiet, small towns, nature.

campania. dear amalfi coast, you are heaven. pastel houses will catch your breath, alongside the food....... dear lord. naples is full of people who do the most weird thing, but isn't that just so beautiful?? sun-drenched shores, and the remains of the historical event of the vulcano vesuvio.

puglia. the heel of italy's boot. golden beaches and crystal-clear waters, intense flavours and fascinating destinations: castel del monte, the trulli, the islands passing through towns kissed by a unique and unforgettable light.

calabria. the toe of the italian boot. the sea, the riace bronzes, reggio calabria and capo vaticano, a captivating mix of history and beauty. warning; the beaches??? spectacular.

basilicata. a land made special by its small silent villages rich in history, its many unspoilt places and enchanting beaches. a unique variety of landscapes including expanses of land, national parks, forests and beautiful lunar-looking landscapes and then the legendary sassi di matera.

ISLANDS...

sicilia. landmarks like the valley of temples and mount etna, its heavenly sandy beaches, delicious wine, and.... mafia origins, so script that out. beside that, it's pure adventure-land. from ancient temples when it was dominated by the greeks, to wines.

sardegna. known the world over for its emerald sea and white beaches, even though the heart of its territory is predominantly mountainous. a land of contrasts, superb nature and millenary traditions.

act ii, education. where do you study?

you will be assigned a section (a, b, c...) and have a class of usually 20 / 24 students. different levels = different schools, so everytime you finish a level you will go to another school, different section, different teachers, different classmates. teachers go in between classes, you only stay in one. usually they let you decorate it. if you fail the year you have to repeat it, saying goodbye to your class and having lessons with the ones younger than you.

level i , primary school: from age 6 to 11.

level ii , secondary school: a.k.a middle school. from age 11 to 14. after the three years you have to make a school leaving exam to see if you can proceed.

level iii , upper secondary school: high school. from age 14 to 19. now this is different from anything else. at the end of middle school you have to choose what kind of school you want to take based on career goals and interests. ( note : all of them have the main important subjects like math and history and italian etc etc, but each focus is different + some of them have different 'main' subjects based on the school. so, this means that the subjects of focus of the school will take more hours than others. you will have to take 10 / 13 classes)

1. liceo ( academic-focused ). they are more theoretical and you will need to proceed to higher education. people say they are the difficult ones....... i kinda lost my mind so i have to agree.

liceo linguistico. foreign languages. you will at least have to take three languages ( italian is not one of them ) and study them in depth.

liceo delle scienze umane. psychology, sociology, pedagogy, and humanities. and philosophy from year three. this was mine!!!!

liceo classico. latin, ancient greek, philosophy, humanities.

liceo artistico. visual arts, architecture, design, artistic techniques.

liceo scientifico. mathematics, physics, science + latin and philosophy.

2. istituti tecnici. provides both general education and technical professions.

tecnologico. mechanism, economics, IT, construction, chemistry, and environmental studies.

economico. business administration, finance, marketing, tourism.

3. istituti professionali. more job-oriented.

hospitality and tourism.

fashion and design.

agriculture.

mathematics and electronics.

health and social services.

school starts on september 15 and ends in early june..... schools day are from monday to satuday ( 8:30 am, at 10:00 am you have 15 minutes to eat your snack, school ends at 1:30 pm ).

GRADING. is based on a scale between zero and ten, with six being the pass..... and yes, they can actually give zero. trust me. (sigh). you have to take regular school exams throughout the year. basically, and for EACH SUBJECT, with each exams you have a number and at the end of the year they sum your number and divide it with how many numbers they gave you. like.... you got a 5 + 8 + 7 + 6? it's 26. there are four numbers so 26:4, and you have 6.5. congrats you passed !!

- oral exams: teacher call students to answer questions about recent lessons. sounds like hell because it is. if the teacher is nice you can see with your classmates which one goes in which lesson so you are prepared. it can be any subject.

- written exams: scheduled. it can be any subject. for italian you have to make essays, usually. latin exams are HELL ON EARTH.

i used to take four exams weekly, so don't script that. please. script that teachers care about you. your mental health will suck because those little shits are awful. the stress is insane. because.... dare i say it...... you don't have to check a box. that's why i envy americans. no, we have to give full answers. you read the question, see the blank space, and if you don't know it you're fucked. and if they don't like it they will mark it as mistake (i am looking at you, ex psychology teacher. I hate you). you have to learn everything word for word like the textbook. but twist the words because "you sound like a parrot"

the core subjects everyone has to take: italian literature, math, history and geography, english, science (biology, chemistry, physics), physical education, religion (optional). as i said, each school will have different core subjects.

THE FINAL EXAM: a.k.a maturità. at the end of the fifth year of high school, you have to take the national diploma. they take place in june (i know. it's torture. the beach is there but you have to study) and they end the first two weeks of july.

first written exam. an italian essay on literature, history, or society.

second written exam. a subject-specific test based on the type of school (e.g., latin/greek for liceo classico).

oral exam. students discuss their final-year project (tesina) and answer questions on different subjects. you have to make this project connect to every subject, everything correlated to each other. teachers can ask everything they want. (this is the same 4middle school).

note: if you fail your fifth year you can't do the final exams and you have to repeat the year. if you fail one or two subjects you have to take summer school, and at the end of summer take an exam to see if you're ready. you fail the exam? you have to repeat the year. if you failed three subjects you OR take summer school (depends on the teacher and depends on your final vote) or you just repeat the year without summer school.

SCHOOL TRIPS.

usually organized once or twice a year. they can range from one-day excursions to multi-day trips in italy or abroad. teachers are the one accompanying the students.

day trips. visits to museums, historical sites, theaters, nature reserves, same city or region.

multi-day trips. last 2-5 days and are often to major italian cities (rome, florence, venice) or european destinations (paris, berlin, barcelona).

from the third high school year, some school offer study trips to the UK, france, or spain. then there’s erasmus, usually in america.

SCHOOL TRADITIONS.

you’d be lucky to see students in class in june. everyone is a little bit more chill…. so the teachers aren’t really mad at you skipping school (only if you have too many absences. in fact, students try to not be absent many times during the year to skip days in june). it’s too hot to be in class, so they will probably make lessons outside. some classes can organise trips to the beach (only if they are near).

the last day of school, maturity (fifth year) students wear white shirts that classmates sign with markers.

100 giorni. this is 100 days before the final exams. many go on a trip or do something "lucky," like visiting a church or making a wish, or just have parties. in school you are going to wear something fancy and usually drink champagne with your teacher (the majority of students are already 18).

some schools have fake strikes where students "protest" just to skip class…… but high schoolers often participate in protests about politics, school reforms, or climate change. at least they say so, they usually just go to the bar. if there's a national student protest, many use it as an excuse to skip school. yes, we like to skips school.

student assemblies. twice a year, students can attend a general assembly instead of class. some schools use this time for serious debates, while others turn it into an excuse to relax. for example, we used to go to the cinema LOL.

class assemblies. when it’s really necessary, students have the right to ask for a teacher their hours to talk about important issues with the class, and then the head of the class will refer the teachers.

school festival day. some schools have an annual festival with sports tournaments, talent shows, and music.

on christmas you can have a little tree in the class!

la notte prima degli esami (night before exams). inspired by the song, many maturandi (fifth year student) stay up late, listening to music, and stressing out together. someone will probably start sobbing. some gather in a park or square to talk about their fears and share good luck rituals.

things about italian school:

you can’t choose your subjects, just the high school (except religion, you can choose to not take that. you’ll spend the time in the hallway chilling).

lockers are not a thing, so you have to carry everything in your bag. also, you have to buy textbooks….. and that’s why you are going to spend 400/500 every year for that. it’s tragic. i know.

you will have a relationship with your teachers; not in the weird sense…. but from the strict one to sweet one, you will spend so much time together that it’s kind of inevitable. you will see them more than you’ll see your parents, basically.

lunch break is not a thing, you eat at home.

classmates…… you spend basically all day with them. so, they are like your siblings; you hate or love them, you still have to spend time with them. don’t date a classmate. trust me… it’s going to be awkward.

uniform? what’s that?? but teachers are going to be pissed if you reveal your shoulders. AND for girls (🙄) you can’t wear shorts, skirts, and anything different than sneakers. nothing ‘revealing’ basically.

act iii, social life. ( script that. )

script that the homework won’t consume your life, because we want to live the life. so, where do you hangout?

bars & café. in italy bars aren’t for alcohol. it’s usually for coffee (that’s why you’ll always see grandmas and grandpas hanging out there) and eating something. if you are outside you can smoke (smoking and italy go hand in hand) and no matter your age, no one will tell you anything. i saw way too many 12-years-old smoking there. also, there’s alcohol from afternoons. so it’s the usual ‘ape in centro’ that means aperitivo (drinking spritz, usually) in the town square, where the bars are. usually with your group of friends, they give you alcohol and free snacks. you can stay there for hours and they aren’t going to tell you anything, sometimes playing with cards (or reading tarots if you are cool) and talking shit about people you hate.

piazza (town square). typical hangout spot. near you there’s probably going to be a park or gelato shop…. and if you are with your friends you are going to eat and drink. it’s culture.

discos. it usually starts when you are 14 / 15, and it’s reserved for the saturday nights. the alternative can be house parties.

friendship. that’s the main kind of relationship, the one your family will encourage you to have. kids, adults, teenagers. old people spend time with their friends in bars and gossiping with each other. this is the kind of relationship the media will enforce on you. it’s honestly one of the most important thing for social life.

hookup culture. sigh. what do you think happens in discos?

families. usually very close. people stay with their parents in their 20s. your nonna will make you the best thing you have ever eaten in the sunday lunches.

driving. public transportation is everything. you don’t usually have a car before 18, but at 14 you can drive a small scooter (motorino), and at 16 a micro car (but the majority of people find that cringe).

unwritten general life rules that will save your life.

don’t ever, EVER, call a teacher by their first name. not even surname. it’s prof, or professore / professoressa.

teachers can call on you randomly, so even if you didn’t study, pretend you’re flipping through your notes like you were prepared. don’t make eye contact, but seem secure of yourself.

if you ask for homework, you just jumped on your own grave. if the teacher forgets to assign homework, stay silent. shhhhhhhhhhhhh.

sciopero ( strike ) is skip day. if you still decide to go to school your classmates will make fun of you behind your back.

school trip is a mini vacation. don’t take it very seriously. teachers know students care more about fun than museums. there’s always a mix of sightseeing, partying, and barely sleeping. for example, me and my classmates met in one’s room and we started playing charlie-charlie. the fake ouja we did started moving and the teachers heard us screaming, but they just closed an eye (or hear…). also, if you are in high school you can smoke if it’s the correct place. they don’t really care and won’t tell your parents.

don’t snitch.

hanging out is not usually planned. you just walk around the town or sit at a café. completely normal. or even walking around in the shopping centre.

no coffee after 5pm, unless you’re an insomniac. iced coffee is not a thing….. and only tourists drink cappuccino after lunch.

dress well. only roadmen wear nike tracksuits, and for the love of god don’t wear pyjamas if you are not in your house.

always greet everyone when you arrive. a small gathering, or even a family lunch, say hello to each person with a handshake (formal) or a cheek kiss. if you don’t, you have ‘a broom up your ass’

don’t break the pasta. why are you wasting food? about food: i won’t explain every single thing people outside of italy do wrong. ketchup on pasta???????? girl. ananas on pizza? fuck off.

don’t get super drunk. it’s not cool. tipsy? hell yeah….. but drunk… no one wants to be that person.

if you’re at a house party, expect to stay out until morning.

clubs have a strict dress code—no sneakers, no sportswear, and guys need a collared shirt.

curfews depend on your parents, and how much you can negotiate. make sure you have a friend they trust…. if your friend is there, they’ll make you go. if its a small town, it’s not unusual to go out when it’s night.

your mom will call you 100 times if you don’t answer. good luck with that.

dinner is around 8pm.

we only use the “military clock” but we just call it clock. the day is 24 hours. we learn it in primary school.

we hate the french because they stole our monnalisa. but if someone outside of europe insults them we will defend the french.

they don’t usually marry young (at least, not lately). sex is not a taboo thing and teenagers are encouraged to find their boundaries; talked about them by their parents and sometimes even teachers.

italian culture.

food. it’s not just about eating, it’s about living. it’s the experience. it’s the tradition behind it. every meal is an event…. and if you are eating in company? that’s basically an ancient roman theatre come outside your history textbook. it’s like a romance novel. every bite is heavenly.

gestures. hands are basically part of your language. forget about just speaking…. gesturing is where the magic happens. its about the secrets. your friends know exactly what each of your gesture means. your hands never stay still — and yes, universal gestures exist. but the secret handshake? the way your fingers move to signal to your best friend that someone you don’t like is there? a quick flick of the chin can indicate everything from “whatever” to “you’re about to get a lecture.” and when you know the person, you know exactly which one is the correct answer.

fashion. it’s a lifestyle. the nonnas will rock a scarf like it’s haute couture. you might be walking down the street in your sneakers and jeans, but there’s a good chance someone will be casually strolling by in designer shoes. you’ll probably feel underdressed even if you're wearing the fanciest outfit you own. style is just... natural.

drama. passionate arguments that escalate quickly over something small. disagreements over who is the best football player are so intense, you’d think it was a national emergency. the gossips????? why do you think hangouts are for? no matter the age. the old ladies of the villages will ask you the latest news, or if you are dating someone. your mother will come in your room and tell you with a grin that your least favourite aunt is in a scandal. even the teachers will interrupt their lesson is something is juicy.

language. swearing it’s a second nature…. and every region has their dialect, which sounds like a whole new language. you’ll never catch someone from milan understanding what someone from naples is saying. some people they’re a shakespeare in the making, though. conversations can go from serious to funny in the blink of an eye, and don’t even try to keep up unless you’re fluent in rapid-fire speech and strategic pauses for dramatic effect. or someone blowing the smoke on your face.

things to script out: corrupted government, mafia, misogyny, homophobia, racism, bigitory in general, global warming, classism, poverty, school is not stressful, it’s easy to find jobs, no one makes fun of you for your interests and style. for any question, my ask are open!!

[heartfullofleeches]

Offer me your flesh... Not like that

Yan Cultist + Forest Entity/Deity Reader [+18 mdni]

Warnings/Tags: Breeding, monster fucking but you are the monster, tentacle peen, slight size difference/kink, brief mentions of gore/blood but not related to the fucking dw

The watcher of the woods.

A creature known by many names for none of which it cared but remained its mantle to claim. Skin akin to aged bark; horns rooted from the base of its skull like the curving arches of branching trees - the beast towered over all sort of man and earned its title for its eyes. Rare were nights starless, but upon an eve without a single dot in the sky it was common to find them hiding out in the trees. As ancient stories foretold - it's said that on those days the guardian of the forest used all its strength even the light of the stars to lead lost souls home. Imposing as it may be, the creature was a peaceful giant, protecting its land and those who treated it in kind, but as legends of old often became lost in translation - it too fell to the hapless adulteration of time and unwavering, blind devotion.

The worship of humans was a peculiar mistress. Old as the soil itself, the watcher predated the existence of mortals in the region and civilization as a whole. When the founders of the town at the base of the hills culled its land to build the foundation their homes - the watcher taught them cultivate the furtile ground and keep peace. It consindered all who entered its lands as members of its flock - no matter how strange they may be.

For the majority, the humans adored their new guardian. The teachings of gods known before where easily tossed aside in favor of a new master. Caring as it may be- the watcher's fair intentions were mistrude as otherwise when it was found to take the bodies of those lost forever to the forest back to the mountains where it lived. It had seen the way humans stored their dead and wanted to honor their cultures as best it could. Its followers mistook its deeds as a call for sacrifice from the crop it had harvested - and who were they to deny their God.

Those who oppose and those who worked their entire lives towards the ultimate goal of being sacrifice to their God were the first to face death. Blood drained; bodies butchered and displayed on the forest floor like fine feasts. Their God was not pleased with their actions and was repulsed by the smell of human blood; diet consisting purely of what its land birthed and the occasional scraps left behind by the natural hunters of the woods.

The humans would sacrifice those worthy at mass and considered new loses to be god's will. It was seen as sacrilegious to return after a night lost in the woods. The watcher lost favor in their humans through these massacres- and the heart wrenching sobs of a lost hiker it had savecthroughly mislead in their worship and bestowed their false knowledge on new generations - but there was one thing they had gotten correct with their research and discoveries involving their lord.

A shift in behavior - marking the change between seasons summer and fall. The watcher's hardened shell withered and softened into thicker, mossy flesh; antlers curling twice as thick and pained whines the kind to send anguish into the hearts of all beings if not for the pleading moans and scents it gave off. The guardian longed for mate - just like every creature in its forest.

In true alignment with their predecessors, the new age failed to realize the correct way to approach their God in such a sensitive state accordingly. Bathing in the blood of the fallen and wandering naked through the wounds - it repulsed the creature so it fled into premature hibernation to rid itself of the aches and frustration. Doomed for entity - the only of its kind; the watcher suffered countless falls with release. It no longer desired the company of man yet yearned for embrace. Alone, wretched, miserable - the watcher imagined its remaining years trapped in endless parallel and pain... and yet as with the seasons-

All things change.

It happened as the trees were stripped of their bearings and nights grew fringed. A musk within range of the watcher's natural intensity wafted over the forest. The fresh dew of spring and the warmth of summer - two elements that brought the creature comfort in harrowing times. Following the scent, the lewd slick of flesh and muffled moans overlap - flooding the lesser god's loins with familiar ache and need.

The watcher tread out into the clearing to find a human perched beneath one of its trees - fingers at work between their legs and shirt tucked between their teeth. A circle of candles and incense surrounded them; a bed of leaves and spare blankets cushioning their body from the hard floor. The tee helped between their teeth was the same color as the moss encasing the local deity's body and the emblem of its horns. A ranger - one that bares resemblance to a face once riddled with fear; now barring the opposite emotion. Lowering the match the mortal's height, the watcher did as it does best - studying the human's acts of self pleasure with intent. Startled by a pitched whine, it's antlers knock against the trees as it lurches.

"You're finally here, huh? Kept me waiting."

The watcher reals as the ranger spreads their legs, fingers plunged deep as they wiggle their hips at the air.

"Don't be shy... We have a special connection you and I.... I'm talking to you."

With a soft chitter - you exit the trees. Stalking forward on all fours, you sniff at the human's arousal as your snout draws against their skin. Black tongue wagging, it sweeps their tender flesh pleased to find no traces of acidic blood and a hint of ripe fruits instead. Enthralled with their taste and scent, the fright as they bring a hand up to your face is enough to cause second retreat. They coo, swallowing the stimulation of being in their lord's presence, and reach out - free hand carding through their hair.

"Hey - hey, don't panic- You remember me, don't you? I was that hiker you saved a few summers back. I always thought the legends were bullshit, but I was still afraid of the unknown. It turned out to be beautiful - my soul mate. See this? I got it when I fell in the river and hit my head on the rocks."

A dated scar bleeds through their hairline. You snort, breath fanning their neck as you cage them to the trees with your larger body, awaiting their next move. Faith unwavering - their hands skim and carcass your torso, glinding through the mossy fur down to the build up of your tension. Teasing the sheath with their nimble digits, you shutter - legs parting as a tendril the color of the night sky and thick as the ranger's thigh unfurls from the slit. Quick to work, the human slides under you - both hands at the base of your appendage. You whine as their lips haul your girth in a trail of kisses - length traveling the side of their face as they reach your thigh.

"You must be in so much pain. So many years with everyone in town going about things the wrong way. It's crazy to think I'm the only one to have figured things out - but it just further proves we're meant to be. Don't worry - I'll take all of your loneliness and pain away."

You don't bother to piece together what their saying. The exhales between each word heightened your sensitive to their mouth riding up to the tip of your growth - lips wrestled slack by the weight pressed to them. You cushion their head and neck with one hand as you thrust, seeking the heat of their mouth. The tendril, slick as it may be - only hits quarter way before the human chokes; the convulsions of their throat drawing a pleased hum from your throat which drones into a concerned murr at the tears lacing their flashes. You pull free - bending down to lap at their face. The ranger's heart swells seeing the light of their god's eyes shine for them solely.

"Don't worry about me - I've prepped for this day since you sent me home. My body is a vessel for your desire - and our future seedlings."

Lost in translation - you get the general picture as they on their back, body displayed for your taking. Devotion engraved into their very being and supple flesh free of damage - this is all you've ever lusted for. The mortal body at your beck and call, captured in its purest beauty. You press forward - crying out in pure frustration and agony as your tendril glossing over its intended target. Rutting and huffing through desperate attempts - your follower guides through your eagerness and their own dire need, and angles themself properly beneath you - wind knocked from their lungs as you sink in at last.

Pushed to edge by every muscle contracting around you, and the sweet relief of finally, finally- obtaining an outlet for your insufferable heats - you howl in frenzied glee. Wasting no time, you start off at a brute pace - jowls snapping in rhythm to each slap of skin. Your follower mewls along with you, hands based on your torso - praying the entirety of the town below can hear your unity. Their stomach bulges with the outline of your tendril and they clench around you conjuring the swell of your young.

"Yes! Ah! My love - breed me! I've waited for this for so long. Take me as you. Give me your love, your young - anything, please!"

Their worship is cut short by the infiltration of your tongue down their throat. Choking as they did on your cock - their eyes dart back as you pin their knees to chest, steady on yours as you plow them into the makeshift bedding. The slick plap of their wetness dragging you back in and the suction of it drives you deeper with every grind. The lack of oxygen from your tongue altering the flood of air makes their muscles tighten further - ripping the first orgasm of the eve out of you as your talons pucker their flesh. Stilling momentarily - thoughts overload with the realization of your true purpose in this realm. Breeding every hole offered to you.

The smell of blood premonating your scents does little to waver the force and intensity of your release - years, decades of build up breaching as you slam against them - pursuing that increasing, staggering high. Your cum floods their hole - leaking around your cock and down their thighs. Rubbing your cheek against their head, you lazily fuck nearly every drop back into them as they twitch and spasm around you. The blessing of being the first real sacrifice to their God was tear inducing.

Your tongue pulls from their mouth, licking salty tears and saliva as apology for nearly asphyxiating them. Your follower gasps and pants, lips formed in conversation but missing the voice to speak. You slip out of them, fluids gushing from their stuffed hole. The sight causes another stir in your nether reigion. Picking them up like an oversized doll, you lean back against the tree as you lower them into your lap - this time being the one to guide your tendril into their greedy hole. Head rolling back, a hand shoots out to grab your horns as you rock upwards into them. Pleasure rocks your very core as they hold onto your sensitive mounts, hands climbing with each bounce. Your cock throbs as they eventually catch on and pour the remainder of their strength into rubbing every curve and bump of your antlers.

Mouth agap - the skin of their shoulder catches in your teeth. Having lost all restraint and repulsion in the stench you bite down, marking as they likely desired. An assumption proven seconds later as a scream tears out of them, body stuttering as they cum around your appendage. Your hand pads their stomach, adding surface for you to better fuck your squirming length into them. You take both of their wrists into your hands - slamming them back on your cock as you finish at the end of their peak - overestimating their shot senses as your length spasms against their fleshy walls. More of your spend leaks from them as you pull out which they shove back as you slump against the ground still cradling them in your arms. The ranger attacks your jaw and chest in kisses, warming your tendril with their thighs and rubbing their own sex against it. Your eyelids fall heavy, twinkling lights dimming. The ranger nestles into your chest - fatigue on the horizon but job far from complete.

"We'll be amazing parents someday. I'm so happy you chose me. Rest now - I'll take care of everything else from here on. Sweet dreams, Dear~"

A new scent - the smell of pine needdles in the winter. Winter - the season when you fell into a deep sleep."

[empyrealoasis]

Scripting Guide to World Building for Shifters 𓍯𓂃𓏧☾

This guide is designed for individuals who find scripting challenging and are looking for a thorough, step-by-step approach to help bring their desired reality to life. It aims to cover a wide range of essential elements, providing detailed prompts and questions to encourage creative thinking and help you craft a unique, immersive, and well-rounded script. Whether you're a beginner or someone who wants to refine their scripting process, this guide offers plenty of ideas and suggestions to ensure nothing important is overlooked. *Character Design Guide

1. The Foundation of Your Reality

Name and Significance:

What is the name of your reality?

Does it have a deeper meaning?

Who named it—its creators, the first settlers, or an external observer?

Shape and Structure:

Is your world a sphere, a flat plane, or something unconventional (e.g., a ringworld, floating islands)?

Does it exist in a single dimension, or does it span multiple dimensions or planes of existence?

Existence and Origin:

How did your world come into existence? Was it created by a divine force, a scientific anomaly, or natural evolution?

What events or forces shaped its current state?

Purpose of This World:

Why does this world exist? Is it a sanctuary, a testing ground, a haven for life, or something else?

Universal Rules:

What are the governing laws of nature (gravity, time, physics)?

Are there any unusual or contradictory rules (e.g., time flows backward in some regions)?

How is reality itself maintained? Is it fragile or robust?

2. Geography and Environment

Global Layout:

How many continents or landmasses exist? What are their names, and what defines each one?

Are there unique planetary features (e.g., floating continents, endless oceans, underground realms)?

Terrain and Landscapes:

What are the major biomes (e.g., deserts, forests, mountains)?

Are there distinct geological phenomena like volcanoes, crystal caves, or floating mountains?

Weather and Seasons:

How many seasons does your world experience?

Are weather patterns predictable, chaotic, or controlled by external forces?

Are there unique weather events, such as glowing auroras, rains of gemstones, or storm systems with sentience?

Natural Resources:

What resources are available (metals, magical crystals, exotic plants)?

Are these resources renewable, or is scarcity a driving force?

Flora and Fauna:

What types of plants dominate different regions?

Are there bioluminescent forests, carnivorous trees, or crops that grow overnight?

What creatures inhabit this world?

Are they based on Earth animals or entirely new creations?

Do any creatures have unique abilities, like shapeshifting or teleportation?

Are any species sentient or capable of communication with humans?

3. Societies and Cultures

Civilizations and Nations:

How many civilizations or nations exist?

What are their defining characteristics (e.g., technological, magical, or cultural)?

Do they have alliances, rivalries, or a history of conflict?

Cultural Diversity:

How do cultures differ across regions?

What are the dominant values or ideologies (e.g., honor, freedom, progress)?

Traditions and Celebrations:

What holidays, festivals, or religious events are celebrated?

Are there seasonal or celestial events that inspire rituals or ceremonies?

How do people mark milestones like birth, coming of age, marriage, or death?

Daily Life:

What does a typical day look like for an average person?

How do people spend their mornings, afternoons, and evenings?

Social Hierarchy:

Are societies egalitarian, hierarchical, or merit-based?

What determines social status (birth, wealth, achievements, magical ability)?

Languages and Communication:

How many languages are spoken?

What are some common greetings, idioms, or phrases?

Are there unique ways of communication (e.g., sign language, telepathy, or written symbols)?

Economy and Trade:

What is the primary form of currency (coins, barter, energy)?

What are the main exports and imports?

How do trade routes function, and are they safe?

Art and Expression:

What forms of art are popular (music, painting, sculpture)?

Are there unique styles or materials used?

Are artists respected or marginalized?

4. Technology and Tools

Technological Level:

Is the technology futuristic, medieval, steampunk, or something else entirely?

Are there advanced machines, or is everything handcrafted?

Energy Sources:

What powers technology (electricity, magic, sunlight, emotional energy)?

Are energy sources renewable or finite?

Transportation:

How do people and goods travel? Examples: flying ships, teleportation gates, sentient mounts.

Are roads, waterways, or air routes the primary mode of transportation?

Weapons and Defense:

What weapons are used in combat (swords, plasma guns, enchanted bows)?

How do people protect themselves (armor, force fields, magical wards)?

Everyday Tools and Gadgets:

What devices simplify daily life?

Are there any tools unique to specific professions?

5. Conflict and Tension

Global Conflicts:

Is the world at peace or in turmoil?

What are the sources of conflict (land, power, ideology, survival)?

Factions and Alliances:

Who are the key factions (nations, guilds, rebel groups)?

What are their goals and motivations?

Are there neutral groups or individuals playing both sides?

Villains and Threats:

Is there a singular antagonist or multiple threats?

Examples: a tyrannical ruler, an ancient curse, a rogue AI.

What motivates these threats, and are they sympathetic or purely evil?

Natural Disasters and Catastrophes:

Are there global events like earthquakes, super volcanoes, or dimensional rifts?

How do societies prepare for or respond to these events?

Internal Tensions:

Are there class struggles, political corruption, or religious divides?

How do ordinary people cope with these tensions?

6. Magic or Unique Elements

Magical Laws:

What is the source of magic (nature, gods, ancient artifacts)?

Are there limits to its use, or does it come at a cost?

Unique Elements:

What sets your world apart from others?

Example: A sun that whispers secrets to those who listen at dawn.

Artifacts and Relics:

Are there legendary items with immense power?

What are their origins, and who seeks to possess them?

7. Geography and Aesthetic Details

Architecture and Urban Design:

What do cities and villages look like?

Are buildings made of stone, metal, wood, or unconventional materials like glass or bone?

Fashion and Clothing:

What fabrics, colors, and patterns are most common?

Are clothes purely functional, highly decorative, or symbolic?

Cuisine and Food:

What are the staple foods in your world?

Are there exotic dishes or drinks with unique effects?

How are meals prepared, and what utensils are used?

8. Time and Progression

Calendar and Timekeeping:

How is time tracked? Are there hours, days, weeks, or unique cycles?

Are there celestial events that mark time (e.g., eclipses, comet passes)?

Aging and Lifespan:

How long do beings live?

Are there rituals for different life stages?

Historical Eras:

What are the major historical periods?

Are there legendary figures or events still celebrated or mourned?

Future Vision:

How do inhabitants imagine their world will change over centuries?

Are there prophecies or predictions about the future?

9. The Metaphysical Nature of the World

Spiritual Layer:

Is there an afterlife or spirit realm?

Can living beings interact with the spiritual plane (e.g., through rituals, dreams, or certain locations)?

Are ghosts, spirits, or other ethereal entities common?

Soul Mechanics:

Do beings in your world have souls or life energy?

Can souls be transferred, trapped, destroyed, or reborn?

Are there beings without souls?

Fate and Destiny:

Is there a predetermined fate or free will?

Are there entities (oracles, gods, etc.) that oversee fate?

How do people view destiny—something revered, feared, or ignored?

10. Communication Across the World

Long-Distance Communication:

How do people communicate over vast distances (messenger birds, magical crystals, telepathy)?

Are there communication hubs or networks, such as magical relay towers or ancient devices?

Media and Information:

Are there newspapers, magical projections, or digital networks?

How is news spread—by word of mouth, official channels, or clandestine organizations?

Are propaganda or misinformation prevalent?

Secret or Forgotten Knowledge:

Are there lost languages, forbidden texts, or ancient knowledge hidden in remote places?

Who guards or seeks these secrets, and what are their motives?

11. Ecology and Environmental Balance

Ecosystem Dynamics:

How do species interact in your world? Are there predator-prey relationships?

Is there a balance between nature and civilization, or is one dominating the other?

Environmental Hazards:

Are there toxic zones, cursed lands, or areas where the laws of nature break down?

How do inhabitants adapt to or avoid these regions?

Conservation and Exploitation:

Do societies in your world care about preserving the environment?

Are there organizations or individuals dedicated to protecting endangered species or sacred places?

12. Entertainment and Recreation

Games and Sports:

What are the most popular games or physical activities?

Are there unique sports or competitions tied to the culture or geography of the world?

Storytelling and Literature:

What forms of storytelling exist (oral traditions, books, holograms)?

Are there legendary tales or epics passed down through generations?

Performing Arts:

What kinds of music, dance, or theater are popular?

Are there magical or technological enhancements to performances?

Leisure and Pastimes:

How do people relax—hot springs, meditation, board games, or hunting?

Are there communal spaces, like taverns or virtual reality lounges, for socializing?

13. Health, Medicine, and Healing

Healthcare Systems:

How do societies manage illness and injury?

Are there healers, clinics, or magical remedies?

Diseases and Cures:

What are the most common illnesses or ailments?

Are there unique diseases that require special cures, rituals, or sacrifices?

Mental Health:

How is mental health viewed and treated?

Are there unique psychological conditions tied to the world’s magic, technology, or history?

14. Cosmic and Celestial Elements

Astronomy and Sky Features:

How many moons, stars, or celestial objects are visible in the sky?

Are there constellations with cultural or religious significance?

Space Exploration:

Is the world aware of other planets or galaxies?

Do inhabitants explore beyond their world, or is it a mystery?

Celestial Beings:

Are there deities, angels, or cosmic entities tied to the heavens?

Do celestial events (eclipses, meteor showers) have magical or prophetic significance?

15. Economics and Labor

Workforce and Professions:

What are the most common jobs or careers?

Are there unique professions tied to the world’s magic, geography, or history?

Trade Networks:

How do goods and resources move across regions?

Are there monopolies, trade guilds, or underground markets?

Currency and Wealth:

What is the currency, and how is wealth measured?

Are there alternative economies, like magical exchanges or something unique to your world?

16. Education and Knowledge

Education Systems:

How is education structured (schools, apprenticeships, guilds)?

Is education accessible to all or limited to the elite?

Libraries and Archives:

Are there grand libraries, hidden archives, or magical repositories of knowledge?

How is knowledge preserved or restricted?

Teachers and Scholars:

Who are the educators and intellectuals in this world?

Are they revered, feared, or ignored?

17. Personal Identity and Expression

Names and Naming Conventions:

How are people named? Are there family names, titles, or unique traditions?

Do names have symbolic or magical significance?

Fashion and Appearance:

How do people express individuality through clothing, hairstyles, or accessories?

Are there cultural taboos about certain colors, patterns, or styles?

Identity and Status:

How do individuals define themselves (by lineage, achievements, or beliefs)?

Are there cultural markers of status, such as tattoos, jewelry, or magical auras?

18. Laws and Governance

Types of Government:

Are there monarchies, democracies, theocracies, or something unique?

How much power does the government wield over individuals?

Legal Systems:

What are the major laws, and how are they enforced?

Are there courts, trials, or magical truth-telling devices?

Crime and Punishment:

What are common crimes, and how are they punished?

Are there vigilantes, bounty hunters, or corrupt officials?

19. Dreams and the Subconscious

Dreams and Their Role:

Do dreams have significance in your world?

Can people share dreams or enter each other’s subconscious?

Nightmares and Fears:

Are there entities or forces that prey on people’s fears?

Can nightmares manifest physically?

Dreamscapes:

Are there alternate realities accessible only through dreaming?

Can dreamers control or manipulate their dreams?

20. Time and Memory

Perception of Time:

Does time flow uniformly or differently in various regions or dimensions?

Are there time loops, anomalies, or portals to other eras?

Memory and History:

How is history recorded or remembered?

Are there people or artifacts that preserve memories?

Can memories be altered, stolen, or erased?

[ranticore]

declassified ex-patreon post: the empty city

Pictured (click tha link for full piece) - Rosy Wing and Patches on a romantic evening, before Rosy's death. Aerial displays are an important courtship activity, serving to reinforce the pair's bond year after year.

The endless city is exactly what it sounds like. It covers the top of the Houndstooth mountain range like a growth of moss on a boulder. It comprises of buildings made entirely of pure white limestone right down to the window latticework and roof shingles. The doorways and rooms are scaled strangely, not appearing to conform to human sizes, and the horizontal architecture alignment (i.e not built to accommodate flying creatures) seems to suggest that insects didn't build it either. There are no organic materials naturally occurring within the city, not even microbial life, although some has been introduced in recent years by expeditioneers. Some parts of the city have been claimed by the rich patrons of expedition teams, and are guarded 24/7 by armed patrols - usually these territories are held for easier ingress into the deeper parts of the city for teams owned by the patron in question. 

There is a boundary wall, with no gates. Roads within the city that lead outwards terminate at these walls as though there should be a gate or portcullis, but there are none. Many patrons have chosen to sink funding into constructing their own proprietary doorways in secret, strategic locations. Spies who figure out where a rival team enters the city can choose to report back, to allow their own teams to stage an ambush, or they can demand payment in return for conveniently forgetting what they have learned. Money rules everyone in the city; it is so hostile to sustained life that purchasing basic supplies from the closest mountainside towns is the only way to get any food at all, so exploring is an expensive business. But it can also be lucrative, if you become one of the few lucky enough to find uncharted regions, or figure out a way to penetrate deeper without simply wandering in endless circles. 

Theran insects are considered ideal employees for expeditions - cheap and easily exploited, those new to the game are often satisfied with being paid in food and trinkets. But as the years go on, more and more of them have begun to learn how to exploit the system for their own ends, and that amassing capital of their own can lead to many advantages. Human employees are always necessary on any serious expedition, because only humans can wield firearms. 

The 'why' of all this is the curious part - why sink huge sums of money into a dangerously competitive expedition when the city appears to be completely empty? It has become more of a vanity project than anything else, with many wealthy patrons convinced that they will one day profit off of the land they capture, selling homes to people on this new frontier. Others believe that the city is evidence for the existence of god, and that they are exploring purgatory, or indeed heaven. Either way it's believed that one day, all their expense will be paid off a thousandfold, and their speculative betting on the city will, essentially, make the line go up.

[today's words below]

One day, approximately 20ish years ago, the Houndstooth mountains appeared. They appeared in two parallel dimensions but at the exact same point, destroying anything that had been standing there before. On Earth, this was half of the city of Quern. On Thera, it was a gigantic forest of Tithe trees. There is evidence that the mountains will disappear within another 20 years, just as they did millions of years ago, during the first appearance. At that time, Earth insects were able to cross the mountain range to colonise a world that had nothing but plants (which had likely also travelled there a million years before by the same method). Before those mountains disappear for another million years, the people of Quern and Thera must figure out what lies at the heart of the city at the top of those mountains.

So the story was about a team of expeditioneers, funded/owned by a wealthy patron, who travel into the city to find its heart. The ending of the story was relatively simple - the city was an allegory for obsession and grief, and was shaped like a fractal - if you happen to take the correct turn, a thousand times in a row, you travel 'deeper' into it, into the limbs of the fractal, and the truth is that it is endless. there is no heart of the city, there is no core, there's nothing lying in wait in there but it captures the minds & imaginations of expeditioneers and patrons alike. that's why i drew an ouroboros in that pic, it's fully metaphorical. the city is EMPTY. The characters trapped in this expedition (and their grief-fuelled justifications for expeditioning at all) have to make the conscious choice to stop exploring, to turn their back on the sunk cost fallacy, to stop chasing what might lie around the next corner, and go home. But that's much harder than it sounds.

look at some of the insects in my setting tag and enjoy

[talesfromawannabewriter]

Savage

@beef-brisket

Lucifer wandered the endless, dark forest in search of anything amiss. No, amiss wasn't the right word, it was more like everything was in order. Because like Hell would a sinner be able to penetrate the gates to the inner city.

Even though the suggestion alone was why he was here today. Instead of up in his office, throne room, meeting that all had to do with the same old mundane royal duties that somehow all ended in a mountain of paperwork.

So, in a way, he was grateful for this little escapade. Still, he doubted that any savage would be foolish enough to try and make trouble for the king as the guards manning the gates suggested. They were new and must have been spooked when they saw a sinner for the first time; that's all it was an overreaction.

Oh, how wrong the king was.

He had stopped by a river and dropped low to gather a drink when he was ambushed. He barely saw the perpetrator's reflection before his head was forcefully submerged underwater. Lucifer struggled a tiny bit as he fought with all his might for a full-on minute.

He didn't know how this sinner could have so much strength. Not even the most powerful Goetia nor a deadly sin could rival his power. Or at least that's what he thought.

Eventually, he manages to gain the upper hand pull himself out of the savage's hold, and pull his head back into the air. If it wasn't for the fact that he was a fallen angel and didn't necessarily need air to live he would be gasping. He summoned his full demon form and whipped around ready to obliterate the creature that deigned to touch him.

Who he saw was not expected.

Even though it had been thousands of years since the fall. He had also changed from his once human form to more animalistic features. Sharp, curved, black horns protruded from the top of his head, along with a pair of fluffy sheep like ears.

His sharp claws and fangs glistened as they stood to attention. Not to mention the fur on his legs or the hooves for his feet. All the same color as his hair. A brown sack helping to cover his nether regions. The same could not be said for his eyes instead of the once soft honey brown they were two glowing yellow, no, golden orbs that glared down at him.

Even his form was larger and sturdier than it used to be. However, there was one thing that didn't change, and that was of course his face.

It was still the same face of the former angel of light's closest friend from centuries ago.

This sinner was Adam.

Lucifer stared in stunned silence for a moment, trying to assure himself that this was real. He tried to take a step forward,

Lucifer: A... Adam?

The former first man said nothing but growled as he lunged towards the devil. The fight was instant and fairly one-sided. Lucifer mainly focuses on trying to get Adam to speak.

To gain some information on the situation. All the while he managed to avoid Adam's hits or attacks.

Lucifer: Adam, please! Just say something!

Adam got close enough to land a slash on his arm. Tearing right through the sleeve of his jacket and sleeves and into his skin. Luckily it wasn't too deep, but just enough to draw blood.

Lucifer gasped and held his arm. Though it wasn't too serious it still shocked him. No sinner ever manages to touch him.

Adam: Something.

He'd be impressed if he wasn't focused on trying to get the rabid savage to calm down. Luckily it seemed like Adam was growing tired of this game of cat and mouse. Seemingly winded from having to chase after his prey for so long.

With one mighty flap of his wings, Adam was sent hurling back. His head hit hard into the ground but surprisingly was still conscious by the time he came over. Before the sinner could do anything, he was tied down by a snap of Lucifer's magic.

Now the king will have his answers.

Lucifer: Adam, how are you a sinner?

The sinner only growls

Lucifer: Adam, please tell me how long you have been here?

Lucifer: Were you once an angel and then fell or when you died did you end up here?

Adam only focused on struggling with the golden chains.

Lucifer: Adam be still and tell me already!

Adam let out a screech that could be heard for miles on end. Lucifer was growing more frantic as he tried to calm him down.

Lucifer: Addy, please! I'm only trying to help you!

Adam shut his mouth and stared straight into Lucifer's red and yellow gaze. Searching intensely for...something. His eyebrows furrowed and his cheeks swelled up.

With as force as he could Adam spat at the king. The saliva landed right on Lucifer's left cheek. For several minutes the king did nothing.

If one thought, he was in shock from seeing Adam again then he was in a catatonic state now. His brain racking trying to process on what just happened.

First, a sinner manages to subdue him temporarily. Then actually penetrated his skin. Finally, he was spat on by this sinner!

To add insult to injury the sinner was Adam of all beings. No one has ever managed to do that since he first arrived in Hell. Not even his own wife.

Lucifer felt something stir within him.

Without another thought Lucifer released him from his hold. Only to grab the much bigger demon and throw him over his back before making his way back to the gates. Adam's reaction was immediate he screeched, scratched, hit, and even sunk his teeth into whatever flesh was available.

It didn't take too long to arrive and when the guards got a good look at his "contraband" they completely lost their heads.

Guard 1#: Sir what in Hell are you doing with that, that THING?!

Guard 2#: What all due respect Your Majesty I don't think that bringing the savage that's been causing trouble so close to the gates simply to dispose of it is a wise choice of action.

Lucifer: Hold your tongues. This "savage" is under my authority now. I claim this brute as my pet.

[sgiandubh]

Flaunting the narrative

I just came back from a nice dinner & drinks in town, with friends who visit from Athens. Lo and behold, my DMs are on fire again, but my (in)famous Inbox is, as expected, resoundingly quiet. [Later edit: not for long].

It would seem S's latest interview for yet another one of those glossy magazines one usually spots untouched in any random Main Street dentist's cabinet or real estate office did manage to raise a couple of eyebrows, after all. With very few data publicly available, Flaunt Magazine is the kind of media outlet with four times less Instagram followers than S, so this begs the question to whom the murder interview really profits:

There is very little out there about Flaunt Magazine, indeed. Other than it was founded in September 1998 by three amigos (Alex Barajas, Jim Turner and Long Nguyen), all of whom were also part of the editorial team of the (now defunct?) Detour Magazine, there is virtually nothing else. This does or should ring a bell about the real importance and relevance of this media stunt - not much to add here, either. Other than that, past issues of Flaunt seem to be traded between fans of celebrities who (more or less) regularly grace its pages, in what I do think are paid/in kind op-eds written by people with no clear professional print, in agreement and by prior arrangement with the talent's PR:

Compared to Flaunt, a real lifestyle press behemoth such as Harper's Bazaar (this blogger has subscribed to for many years, ahem) has a quite different audience level and marketing approach:

Six times more Instagram followers and a clearly more friendly pricing policy:

[Sorry, what I managed to find is the UK offer - blame it on their regional settings, I suppose: however, I think the US offer might not be that different].

In other words, I am beginning to suspect more and more Flaunt is that kind of vanity/hybrid press product, where costs and risks are more or less evenly split between the printer/publisher and the client. Therefore, you would be naive to expect anything else than some tightly controlled, neat-o narrative aligned content. Especially considering the targeted audience, which is (of course) the American fandom, albeit with a tinge of 'sophistication' and a totally artificial 'whimsical twist' (California, here I come).

Onwards to the candid bullshittery.

The article opens with a precise timeline reference:

[Source: https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/cy0g2p47xd5o]

Therefore, the interview happened somewhere between 11 and 14 October 2024, just about the time S was overseas and C was spotted having dinner in London with the Rothschilds and no Tracula in sight. And there is another thing that immediately screamed at me from that pixelated page: George Mallory. Which brought me exactly here:

Yes, absolutely. The Golden Goose that never was. That still hurts, judging by the melancholy with which S talks about Everest, not climbing it after all, still planning to visit next December:

Perhaps with Jake Norton, a reputed Scottish American mountaineer (I think you were right on the money, darling - you know who you are, 😘😘❤️), S met and stroke a friendship with since 2023:

The December reference is not innocent at all. It is there to sparkle endless speculation about what S will be doing on Xmas and Hogmanay, too (and with whom, of course - and there you have all the factions dutifully served with an extra side of bullshite to dissect). Fan wars galore, fuming and flaming DMs and inboxes to boot. He/his PR know that and apparently they still need that Idiotenspiel at play for a while. Also, December's got 31 days, something that Stans worldwide seem to suddenly ignore.

Once the proper tone is set and given, the rest flows almost naturally: zero reference to C (1500% expected) and what is a clearly tailored, yet fizzling, bomb:

'I'm really on the precipice': now that is some extraordinary choice of words, isn't it? This and the 'I don't know' are probably the only authentic reactions in the very strange quote I underlined.

'Being on the precipice' is almost always negatively connotated. It logically has nothing to do with the idea of starting a new journey, but it has everything to do with the idea that he is now confronted with the lack of security and comfort and with the potential loss of notoriety the end of OL might bring. Something he very clumsily tries to disguise as 'I feel I'm no longer tied by Outlander', which must also be the counterfactual understatement of the year, really. There is legally and factually no way he wouldn't still be tied by Outlander, irrespective of how tedious that might feel. He still needs the Mommies' hardcore clientele pool, while he is commendably trying to diversify his sales and marketing strategy. These things do not happen in the blink of an eye and he knows it very well. However, he also really needs to portray himself as something else than a one trick pony, in order to remain bankable in Hollywood and elsewhere. Hence the 'I am not tied to OL anymore', I am able to do bigger and better things, and in the long run I would also like to make a springboard, not a dead end out of it.

Finally, there is no way he would be legally untied from OL. Contracts are still contracts. They include clauses and obligations that will be enforced most probably until after the show's last season will be aired. There is very little to zero leeway around it, for the time being. By the time those clauses and obligations will be rendered obsolete, very few of those Anons and Stans and Mommies and Onlies will still be around to even give a flying duck about the whole life situation.

And then, we have the 'maybe I'll start a family'. Despite what all of my Anons are shrieking right now in my inbox, this is not even the first time he hints at it, and I seriously do not understand why the sudden hysterical surge. Anons probably think I am amnesic, or something:

That is a direct quote from Waypoints. He announced nothing. It's been there, in plain sight, for a long time already and if anything, it is consistent with the narrative.

The rest is borderline irrelevant, visually and conceptually incoherent ('nude scenes are difficult and even dangerous to shoot, when dealt with in a non-professional way, but here is a shirtless bucolic pic that will make my Onlies drool and buy collector's issues at extortionate prices'). The overall impression it gave me was of a hastily cobbled and not very clever circumstance paper. Nothing more, nothing less.

There is no amount of wishful thinking that is going to immediately and magically change the current state of play. Reasonable people should expect mild, but constant turbulence ahead, with a sprinkle of cuteness and innuendo just to keep all the fandom's factions engaged and present, which translates to S/C/SC being relevant for potential employers, agents, the press, etc. In a nutshell, absolutely nothing new. You can screech, you won't change an iota of what I know is true and my position is firmer than ever, no matter how ridiculously hard you try to intimidate or harass me. That's all.

[tanadrin]

Toward revised climates for Sogant Raha

A couple of weeks ago I finally got ExoPlaSim running, as detailed in this post from Worldbuilding Pasta; it's a finicky-as-hell piece of software, but it's also basically the only global climate model that seems remotely accessible to the conworlder who does not actually study this stuff for a living. And since it's pretty slow, especially on my antiquated machine, I looked into renting a virtual server from the same folks who do my webhosting. This is something I've never done before, and I was pleasantly surprised at how incredibly cheap it was--I'm paying about sixty Euro-cents a month at my current usage rates.

With a great deal of trial and error, I've been running climate models of Sogant Raha with different starting parameters. Mostly the failure states are pretty uninteresting--when I reduced the atmospheric pressure by 10% for instance, I had to crank up the CO2 levels a surprising amount or I just got an endless parade of snowball planets. Too much insolation and the whole planet is desert. The sweet spot for a stable climate (with Earthlike nitrogen and oxygen ratios) seems to be around 600 ppm of CO2, which is high compared to the pre-industrial baseline for the Holocene, but well within Earth's historic range.

This is the interpolated global climate map for Sogant Raha based on the last simulation. (Keep in mind the prevailing wind direction is the opposite of Earth's.) Some of the features are exactly what I was hoping for: that nice belt of equatorial rainforests, for instance, and a mild climate even at very high latitudes near the south pole. The rugged terrain of the northern polar regions probably influences the formation of tundra there.

There are some issues that definitely are due to needing to do another pass on the topography data; some mountain ranges are too high, which makes western Altuum too dry, I think. Central Demora (the left of the two small continents in the north-central region of the map) is much drier than I expected, probably due to topography and the low resolution of the model. Several islands are a lot drier than they should be; this is a know issue with ExoPlaSIm, apparently. I'm most surprised by the giant desert on the north end of Rezana (the southern continent in the group of three on the left). That region has comparatively low relief and water on three sides; even if it's not very wet, it should be wetter than that, I reckon. I'll have to dig into the data and see what that's about. And the desert in the northwest of Vinsamaren also makes no sense to me; it's equatorial, and there isn't an appreciable rain shadow in that region.

Sogant Raha is very much not a bottom-up project, in that it started with a group of stories I wanted to tell, and then I started thinking about how to link those stories together in a world that had internal consistency, and only much later did I start looking into stuff like climate and geology, so I'm actually quite pleased that I can get something comparatively close to my original design without any major revisions. The biggest change from my previous biome map is just the planet's axial tilt--instead of being very low, it is now rather high, around 30 degrees. No valleys of eternal night on the poles, which is a pity, but I can still have my south polar islanders who spend half the year sailing from island to island in perpetual darkness.

[alexanders-pokemon-adventure]

Endless Mountains Region Pokédex.

[elbiotipo]

Notes on a South Asian Tropical Cyrodiil (and more!)

So, many TES fans know that before Oblivion, Cyrodiil was supposed to be tropical. The most striking phrase to describe it, "most is endelss jungle", says it all. The quick and snarky explanation is that Todd Howard watched LOTR, was "inspired" by it, and that's why everything in Oblivion looks sort of like a Rennaisance Fair. In any case, I think it was a huge missed opportunity, especially in a world where most popular fantasy is European inspired, to have replaced what could have been very cool tropical enviroments with what is frankly a lame "Talos used his magic" lore retcon. You can read the 1st edition of the Pocket Guide to the Empire to see what we missed.

But it's not only Cyrodiil which we missed this way… Tamriel just makes more sense as a tropical continent. While the size and the exact location of the continent is discussed by nerdier nerds than me, I think it does make sense like this, and not only that, we have a very interesting world parallel to compare it to: India. From a tropical rainy south to the cold mountains of Skyrim, Tamriel is surprisingly similar to the Indian subcontinent, and many of its geographical quirks can be explained if, instead of assuming a temperate Cyrodiil, we go all out with that concept. This is going to be a long post, you have been warned.

So with that in mind, I'll try to make a not-so brief tour (with some evocative pictures along the way) of a rebuilt tropical Tamriel, following the rains of the moonson:

The position of Tamriel, in this case, would be roughly where the Indian subcontinent is located in real life, that is again, tropical, stretching the Tropic of Cancer (is there a name for the tropics of Nirn? Interesting to think about) Here, we see our numbers pan out well: Tamriel is mentioned to be between 4000 and 3000km across east to west and 2000 and 3000km south to north. VERY, VERY roughly, there is 4000km between Pakistan and Myanmar, and 3000km from Sri Lanka to the northern tip of Tibet. Plot that on a map, and you already can see some coincidences. Now, this is a rather average continent, not Pangea sized like some imagine Tamriel to be. This does help explain why, for example, the interior of Cyrodiil is rainy and good for agriculture instead of a desert. But it also means that it's very likely that Tamriel is ruled by monsoons. Monsoons are complex, but they basically form when there are plenty of warm places for water to evaporate (the South Indian ocean), and mountains that block cool winds from the opposite direction (the Himalayas). We have a very similar situation here, with a mountainous Skyrim on the north of a tropical Cyrodiil facing an equatorial southern ocean. So, what happens are monsoons, perhaps not as strong as IRL India, but carrying rains very deep into the continent. This would feed the rivers and the rich agricultural areas of Cyrodiil, and would have some other consequences.

So let's imagine our trip South to North. In the South, in Black Marsh, Blackwood and Lleyawiin, and Pellentine (southern Elsweyr) we would find, much like in the original lore, humid tropical climates, jungle, wetlands, and my favorite, mangrooves. I would expect mangrooves to stretch in this whole area, across rivers. In fact, one of the reasons why Black Marsh could be so hard to explore and control by the Empires at Cyrodiil would be the presence of thick mangrooves all over its coast. This is the region of Cyrodiil that would most resemble "endless jungle".

(Rice fields in India, what I imagine most of this Tropical Cyrodiil would look like)

However, as any lore person knows, Anequina, northern Elsweyr, is arid desert. Does this mean a contradiction? Far from it, we have a similar example in IRL India: the Deccan Plateau, which has a semi-arid to arid climate. This can be easily explained by higher elevations up to a small mountain chain separating it from Cyrodiil to the north, and the fact that little rain would reach behind this "Anequina Plateau" would make the region of Kvatch and Anvil more dry much like in canon, in this case, more scrublike. This highland desert would not be as harsh as Elsweyr is usually concieved, maybe, but its driest regions might justify places such as Dune. (On that matter, it always bothered me to read about the "cities" of southern Elsweyr and there being only two or three there. If I had to redesign it, I would move some from the north to the south).

(the Deccan Plateau in India, it gets greener or drier according to the monsoon)

Keeping on our tour of Tamriel, the Topal Bay and the very rainy Black Marsh funnels the rainy monsoon from the south towards central Cyrodiil. Here we find the endless jungle of the Nibenay Valley. But unlike the rainforests of Elsweyr and Black Marsh, these dense forests and rich river plains are mediated by the monsoon winds, with dry seasons alternating with copious rain. This has huge effects on agriculture and culture in general, as agriculture is defined by the rythms of the rain. Keeping with our South Asian theme and the 1st edition of the Guide to the Empire, Cyrodiil would have huge extensions of rice paddies, as well as terrace farming and much hardier crops in the highlands, instead of the… well, almost absent agriculture we saw in Oblivion. The food, clothing, architecture and overall culture of Cyrodiil would be very different with this. The original Pocket Guide said some of its main exports besides rice and fruit are moon sugar and silk. Moon sugar in Cyrodiil, can you believe it?

Another thing I imagine Cyrodiil would be famous for would be fish and seafood, well, river food. Rice plantations can host fishes and crustaceans to get some extra protein, and well, what about mudcrabs? Hell, as preparing muddy soil is vital for rice cultivation, no wonder mudcrabs are considered a nuisance. Imagining critters in gameplay in such an enviroment also makes my mind roam. Tigers, elephants, rhinoceros, and this is not even getting into the more mythical creatures you could find, instead of endless wolves… Rice cultivation is also more labor intensive than other crops, and it also has a deep impact on the terrain, "terraforming" so to say, huge expanses into paddies and terrace farms. This level of cultivation also requires an established infraestructure of irrigation. While this does not necessarily means a centralized goverment, as farmers can build it and maintain it by themselves, the rise of an empire, i.e., the Empire, will also increase the complexity of these systems, adding canals, dams, reservoirs and more ambitious projects, like we see in India and China. I am sure some people more knowledgeable about those cultures can comment more.

While this Cyrodiil is a tropical/subtropical region covered in "endless jungle", some parts might indeed resemble the rolling hills and grasslands you see in Oblivion. Deforesting jungle for pasture is something very common around the world (some have joked this mass deforestation was later in canon explained as a gift from Talos lol) and you can see the results, like in tropical Australia and my closer Mata Atlantica, do superficially resemble temperate pastures in say, Europe. Until you notice the palm trees, of course. But yes, I can see the Nords being a mostly herding people (more on that below) bringing their sheep and cows to the tropical lowlands and, well, deforesting to make space for them.

(ranches in Sao Paulo state, Brazil, notice the palm trees)

Imperial City just so happens to be built in an island in the middle of several river crossings, in what seems to be a swampland. The first thing that came to mind when I read that was Tenochtitlán. The districts of Imperial City would have been built over the centuries on artificial islands on a shallow lake, using plentiful mud and organic matter to make fertile chinampas. I believe this would make for a striking sight. Instead of just a city in the middle of a empty island, you would see the White-Gold tower and the rest of Imperial City rising from Lake Rumare, surrounded by rich farmland and its districts joined by walkways. (much like the old descriptions, actually, could you believe I wrote that without reading them?)

(Reconstruction of Tenochtitlán... and I just noticed, it's surrounded by (volcanic) mountains too, much like Imperial City)

Much like the Pantanal is one of the sources to the Paraguay River (which merges with the Paraná and then the Río de la Plata) IRL, here, the swamps of central Cyrodiil would be the source of the Niben. This does raise an interesting question, where is the source of the Niben? Is it Lake Rumare? No, I believe it would be several smaller rivers all the way from Bruma and even Skyrim. These small, violent mountain rivers eventually flow into the Rumare wetlands and only THEN in the placid great Niben. You DON'T want to be caught in one of the mountain valleys in rainy season. This does raise the question; won't the developments upriver, like Imperial City itself and the surrounding farmland, affect the course of the river downwards? There's plenty of water from the rain, but a more developed Cyrodiil might indeed have to grapple with this, supposing, for example, they manage to dam the river.

Looking west, we got the Colovian region, said to be composed of drier highlands and cliffs in the early Pocket Guide. Probably cut from the rain because of the Anequina Plateau, this is indeed more arid or "mediterranean", though I actually see it as more Australian. Maybe some of the drier parts near Hammerfell, resembling Argentine Cuyo and the northwest, would be a distant cry from the wetlands, having thorny dry forests and dry valleys, where yes, you could plant wine. The wetter cloud forests (much like the Yungas in South America, the place where the rain reaches last) could maybe be the home of the last pre-Imperial cultures of Cyrodiil. Fascinating places.

(Jujuy, Argentina. Just *near* are the Yungas cloud forests, where the last rains from the Atlantic meet the Andes, making for some AMAZING places)

Given that I mentioned enviroments near to/on the Andes IRL, let's talk about potatoes. Potatoes are unique crops, because they are the only ones who offer such calories and also be planted in cold enviroments like Europe. Or Skyrim. The discovery and spread of potatoes would cause demographic shifts on people living in cold areas. And they also originated in a unique enivorment IRL: the Andes, actually with possible hybridization from the Magallenic foresWHAT I MEAN, is that potatoes are very important and have been domesticated in very specific conditions. The Wroghtgarian Mountains would seem like a perfect equivalent of the Andes at the first glance, but they would be very different. The Andes, located between the Pacific Ocean and the greater Amazonian region, are very, very unique enviroments. These mountains, however, are in between inner seas. Something like the Atlas or the Alps? In any case, if there is some people who would appreciate hardy tubers that can grow in mountainous places, they are for sure the Orcs, or perhaps the Reachmen. Maybe an hybridization even between them?

This returns me back to Bruma and Skyrim. Some people (who make those excellent Oblivion mods) imagine Bruma with a Tibetan flavor. Personally, I imagine it more like Pakistan or Afghanistan, with lots of mesas and plateaus and valleys. It would look dry and rocky with some very fertile valleys by snowmelt, but it would look like a snowy wonderland on winter, indeed, Pakistan and Afghanistan are very snowy. Eventually, of course, ending up in the great barrier of the Jerall mountains and finally, Skyrim.

(the Alps? Skyrim? No, this is Kashmir on winter!)

In this scenario, Skyrim would be a quite dry place… or would it? There is no need for the Jeralls to be a straight line of peaks like the Himalayas. They could be a more "broken" series of mountains, like the southern Andes, but in any case, the rain from the south would clash into the higher mountains. Indeed, that is what actually happens in the Himalayas, the foothills of the Himalayas are some of the rainest places IN THE WORLD. These small valleys are something very unique and not very well known part of the world IRL. I can imagine the Skyrim equivalent would be as unique too, hard to navigate and live in. The forests of the Rift and Falkreath would be mazes of windy forests valleys, each with their own unique secrets under a perpetual fog and drizzle. This is a very interesting enviroment to imagine, where again, some of the older cultures of Tamriel could still live.

(forests of Bhutan, note how the humid valleys stretch into the distance before the cold Himalayas begin)

However, what does Skyrim look like once you cross the border with Ralof? I imagine some sort of more fertile Tibet, not as high as the Tibetan plateau, allowing for forest and alpine tundra. This is mostly because, while Skyrim is high up, I don't imagine as a plateau, but rather a series of broken mountains like the North American Rockies, which makes sense when you account for all the volcanic activity (there is another super-volcano down in Skyrim but nobody notices). I imagine that Skyrim would be a primarily herding pastoral land before the introduction of hardier crops such as potatoes, and even then. Nord culture would be very interesting reimagined like this; hillforts guarding herds of sheep and cows. It would also create a clash between the very, very agrarian south and the nomadic herding north, with High Rock and Hammerfell a gradient between the two.

But here we enter a problem; if we are operating on a level where Cyrodiil is roughly at the same latitude of India, wouldn't that make Skyrim too far from the poles to allow its tundra like climate, even with elevation? No doubt. Tibet is only as cold as it is because it's the roof of the world and far from any ocean. The northernmost tip Skyrim, like Tibet, would be at the latitude of Turkey, Korea or California, which can get quite cold, but not to the level of what we see on Winterhold or Dawnstar (Solitude sounds familiar, though). What's more, having an ocean up north would only moderate the temperature. Cool currents often don't bring cold per-se, just decrease rainfall. This would end with a very temperate and pleasant Skyrim instead of tundra. Which is on its own, interesting to explore.

Could Nirn be going through an ice age, like it's implied with the dissapearance of Atmora? Possibly, but it would imply revising everything I said before, as ice ages decrease rainfall and mess up with weather patterns all over the world. A colder Nirn would explain a lot, though.

I decide I will stop here, I haven't even touched Valenwood (though its subtropical forest seems rather coherent to me), High Rock (the most boring part of Tamriel IMO), Hammerfell, Summerset Islands (if you don't have tropical elves in your setting, you're a coward), or whatever the hell is going on Morrowind. But I hope you enjoyed this worldbuilding exercise and how to make sense of Tamriel's crazy geography. Next time, I'll try to play with tectonics and see if we can make it even more interesting.

If you liked what you read and would like more worldbuilding, consider tipping me on Ko-Fi and send me stuff to talk about, or just send an ask! I'm the kind of guy who reads encyclopedias and RPG manuals for fun, so I have plenty to talk about about everything from fantasy to science fiction to speculative evolution and alternate history!

[mc-tums-fog]

Under The Desert Sky

Fic Summary: Upon arriving in Australia from America and taking up the job as a ranch hand for the Marston Ranch for the sake of your family, the only thing you could find worthwhile of your attention was the night sky that was endless of stars. But that might start to change when you find that the particularly precise ranch owner sees you as someone worthwhile of his attention.

Pairing: Elliott Marston x GN! Reader

Chapter I: To Catch a Glimpse of the Stars

Content Warnings For This Chapter: Period-Typical Racism (Mentions against the Aboriginal people and Native Americans), Ableist Language/Ableism, Canon-Typical Violence

Notes:

Right now the plan for this is to be 5 parts long with each part uploaded on Tuesdays so hopefully at least one of those two stick.

TL;DR: Your Honor, his ass is down so bad to fix him and his racism he made a canon divergence fic

Also shout out to @smilingformoney cause I like how she formats fics on Tumblr so got major inspiration for how I'll share this fic here and for also jumpstarting my infatuation with Elliott Marston because I was only looking at Hans Gruber gifs on her blog while she was posting Elliott Marston gifs and once I saw Alan Rickman in an all black cowboy outfit I knew it was over for me.

Read on Ao3 or below the cut:

You already knew that from the moment you had first set foot into Australia that you hated it. The journey of crossing a vast amount of ocean with your family cramped into a ship containing at least fifty other passengers, one third of which were seasick, was not pleasant to begin with. Arriving in a climate you had rarely experienced before made it worse. The month you arrived in the city of Sydney; it was a warm welcome that was very much unwelcome. The air was hot, stifling, and every sense of the word cramping. You weren’t used to this kind of temperature, having lived in mostly cool city regions, and at times traveling to mountain regions that offered year snow. Did Australia even have snow?

Regardless, this would not have been your first place to move to. Or second. Or third. You didn’t even realize Australia existed if you were completely honest. You honestly thought your cousin, or uncle-honestly, you couldn’t remember your relation to the guy anyway- was making it up when he said he lived down here just so he didn’t have to attend family get-togethers. So when you had learned that there was a smaller continent that was right in the middle of the ocean, you were surprised. And scared at the prospect of moving. But you really had no other choice. Your father had come down with a sickness that left him with a coughing fit every single day. You caught the signs early, and the doctor recommended that you all move to a hotter climate as soon as you could, as it would ease the sickness progression, and hopefully, stop it all together. So, whoever your relative meant to you, offered the opportunity for you all to come down here. You found that it worked better, as no other family member lived in a hotter state, and you didn’t want to move to somewhere new where you didn’t know at least one other person. Especially since without the physical illness, your father, admittedly, was not all “there” mentally.

He hardly spoke to others and when he did, he was a man of few words, often which people couldn’t completely understand. He didn’t like being in certain areas and was really only comfortable with a small handful of people. He couldn’t do certain tasks but the ones he could do, he excelled at. But not many people found his skills useful. So, often, your mom would have to take care of him beforehand. Now the time and care she put in helping him went double time once he got ill. It would give her extra comfort to know that she had a relative she could reach by in time while being in the optimal location for his health.

So, whatever your personal feelings were the moment you stepped onto Australia, being far away from a place of familiarity, you had to hold it down for your family’s sake. You could adjust to a strange land.

And to Sydney’s credit, you were surprised, but comforted to see that there were building structures resembling the ones you grew up in, with there even being forests that were distant but visible to the naked eye. From what other passengers had been describing, the picture painted in your head about Australia was mostly a desert region, territory with which you were unfamiliar. So, at the very least, it seemed like you could make this work. So long as you found a job or two that allowed you to be indoors most of the time, you’d be fine.

And that’s how it was going, fine. You got a decent place to stay, worked jobs that allowed you to be away from the heat and come back home before nightfall to help your mom prep dinner and take care of your dad, and let the darkness from outside make your already cool room even cooler. As far as work went, it was much like the other times you worked, but it was nothing you couldn’t handle. You could get used to this routine.

But it hadn’t even been six months since your arrival and you, and your family were already starting to have financial troubles again. It was like this before, with the family struggling to make ends meet. But at the very least, sometimes the different workforces you worked at would be charitable and allow your dad to work to some capacity, so long as you or your mom were around to help keep an eye on him. That was before he got physically ill. Sure, you could see improvements now that you were all here, but he still wasn’t well enough to work. So, it was just you to be the one to provide for the family. But the jobs that you did have were not enough.

As luck had it, that extended uncle-cousin had the opportunity to help you and your family out again. He knew someone who owned a ranch, who needed both a ranch hand and a way to repay back your family member. So, he brought you up, as you had prior experience of working at ranches and on farms. Both of those jobs were short periods in your life, but you excelled in them well. It was a deal that would work out for them both in the long run.

The catch was that it was in the Northern Territory of Australia, within what they called the “outback” region. That would mean you needed to move up nearby or live within the ranch for convenience’s sake. With your dad still only just barely getting better, and your mom still needing to take care of him, all of you couldn’t move up there easily. But it was a higher paying job that would have benefited you. Even if you hated how hot it was here now, you’d do the work in order to make sure your family was comfortable. You told your extended relative that you would take the job, so long as the ranch owner would accommodate by sending the majority of the money down to your parents. It would allow them time to build up the funds, and for your dad to get better, to move up there safely and in their own time. Once he got it squared away, you made the journey.

Traveling through the desert region made you realize how you took Sydney for granted. The colder months had just started to wear off, and the farther you went up north, the hotter it got. You did your best by staying inside the wagon whenever possible, as it had a covering over it. But that still wouldn’t stop the dirt and sand getting inside of the wagon. The sounds of wild animals would bother you more than it did your relative, he was used to it as he carried a gun around like it was an extension of himself. It was a bit unnerving for you, with not having much experience in weaponry.

Every night before you went to bed you had to remind yourself who you were doing this for, and just hoped the ranch owner was charitable in allowing time for you to take breaks when needed.

He was anything but.

After traveling for a few days and arriving at the ranch, the owner, named Elliott Marston, wasted no time in putting you to work shortly after your introductions. This initial interaction already set you off on the wrong foot with him. You could already tell this man was someone to not go against in any capacity. Your general tasks ranged from actual ranch hand work, such as taking care of the livestock, fixing the fences, emptying out the wagons when they made their supply runs, things like that.

But then Marston and his other men would have you perform menial tasks that would make you think they could easily do it themselves. It was particularly annoying when the men would criticize you or when Marston would watch you from his house, which he did from time to time. You didn’t know why. Perhaps the city look was still that much apparent on you, or Australians and Americans had distinct mannerisms that you had no idea about. Especially as some moments when you tried to take a break by dunking your head into a barrel of water, and if Marston and his men were nearby, his men would make a joke about how you weren’t accustomed to the heat.

These things, you could hold your tongue for. Menial tasks, the mockery, you could withstand that if it meant you got good pay. Which you did. But the longer you stayed there the quicker you realized how much his men were more focused on practicing their shooting, hooting and hollering with the ladies they brought back, and going after and attacking the Aboriginal people, you realized how much harder this was going to be. You didn’t care for any of that, especially towards the disrespect to the Aboriginals. In America, the tribes you encountered were the only group to show more respect for your fathers’ mental issues, unlike those in the big cities. You could see similarities as you learned more about them and who they were on the land. Seeing them treated like that, it would make your skin boil more than when the sun boiled your skin.

Still, it wasn’t something that you could just say that you went directly against without putting your job at risk. It killed you, knowing that you were trading your morals for money. But you just had to rationalize to yourself that it wouldn’t be much longer. Writing to your mom as often as you could, you just hoped that they could save enough that they could just downgrade somewhere in Australia, or maybe you could convince your relative to take you all into his house. So long as you could find a way where you didn’t have to work at the Marston Ranch while leaving amicably for the sake of your relatives’ connection, you would hold your tongue.

And you tried. You really tried. But as the hotter months progressed with barely any break time, besides sleeping in the lodge provided to the workers, and with the right set of words thrown at you to get you going, you couldn’t do that anymore.

Despite it still being within springtime, Australia never got any cooler for you. It was getting late in the afternoon one day as you were moving hay bales for the horses to eat when you overheard one of the men talking. You did your best to tune them out whenever they weren’t directly talking to you or giving you orders. But this topic of discussion revolved around the two Aboriginal women that they had on the ranch. Both of whom were still very much within earshot of what the men were saying. They threw various insults about them like they weren’t there, but knowing full well that they were.

It brought you back to the times that you brought your father to work with you at your jobs, and how the rest of the workers would say hurtful things about him, right to his face, and laugh. They did it under the assumption that he wouldn’t know what they were saying. But you could tell, in a way that he did. And even if he didn’t, you did. And that was enough to send words, and if necessary, fists right to them.

So, with the added heat from the sun to fuel your decision to finally shut them up, you looked over to them and called out as you were setting down the last haybale.

“Would you quit going on about them? They’ve done nothing to you.”

The men, and the two women perked up at you. The women’s faces were unreadable; however, the men made their feelings very clear.

“Keep workin’, this conversation’s got nothing to do with you.” One of the men, Coogan if you recalled correctly, tried to wave you off.

“With how loud and obnoxious your voice is I’m forced to be part of the conversation.” Your rebuttal back to him was, as you looked back to the hay bales.

He stood up more properly, as if to try to seem more imposing, despite still being a good amount of feet away from you.

“You think being from the big city gives you the right to talk to me like that?”

You rolled your eyes as you walked away from the stables. “No, but it’s given me the displeasure of knowing that no matter what country I’m in, there’s still the same kind of stupidity that’ll set us back to the stone age. And I’m not going to be silent about it.”

The other men started to clamor as they could sense it was starting to get heated, at least from Coogan’s side. You were just planning to rest up in the lodge, thinking that he was just going to wave you off again, when his next words set off the simmering coals that were in you into a roaring fire.

“Well, it’s clear your mom didn’t teach you some manners. Because she would’ve been busy takin’ care of your dad. And we know he’s too slow to teach you anything!”

The clamoring among the men grew louder, but all you could hear was the ringing in your ears as you stopped in your tracks and looked him dead in the eye. You had heard them whisper among each other about your reasoning for being here when you first started working. But this was the first time they had directly made fun of your family.

It was going to be the last.

One fistfight later, that ended up with a set of stitches and a black eye for a Coogan, and a badly bruised rib cage and bruised cheek to you, you already began to pack your things from the lodge. You figured that you might as well wait beside the trees that were closer to the ranch entrance. Elliott Marston hadn’t been there due to some sort of business he needed to attend to with Major Ashley-Pitt a few days prior. If he had you would’ve likely experienced the consequences sooner. However, he was expected to come back later that evening. And you were expecting that once he did, the men would pull a primary school move and tell on you, and at best, you would be fired and either have to leave right then or in the morning. At worst… Well, you didn’t think about that or how Elliott Marston always had his pistol on his hip and how quickly he drew his gun on deserters.

Sure enough, he came back riding on his horse when the sun was just starting to set. He took note of you sitting by the tree, with your arms crossed as you looked ahead, only to give him the briefest acknowledgement by turning to face him slightly. Surely, he saw your bruised up face, but he didn’t comment on it, his expression unreadable. Which, that’s how it always was when he stared at you for no good reason. You continued back with staring ahead. As he got off his horse and went into his home, you could already hear the few footsteps of his men, with Coogan calling out to him.

You couldn’t hear what they were saying but you huffed in annoyance anyway. More so at yourself at this point.

You wanted to be a provider for your family. But this was taking a toll on you. You knew on a deeper level, if you explained the situation to your family, they’d be happy that you stood on your morals and got out of there when things weren’t going well. However, your mom particularly didn’t want you to get taken over by your pride for yourself and your family. Especially when it could have easily gotten you killed. It’s clear those men weren’t didn’t have to use guns to protect themselves. Though you were sure if she saw the state of your face now, she’d do everything she could to make sure those men weren’t standing either.

You laughed a bit. If she got her hands on them the men would get a glimpse on what your mom did teach you and that you went easy on Coogan.

Then there was the issue of money. You had initially figured that it would be quite easy to find another job if you left this one. But that was on the assumption you left on good terms. With how influential Elliott Marston seemed to be, especially with his connections to the army, it was possible that word of mouth would spread. And the influence would decrease your chances of getting hired by others within the area.

You sighed, rubbing your eyes, which caused you to flinch at the pressure of the bruised side of your face. You flopped your hands down and bumped your head back against the tree. Which unsurprisingly also didn’t help with the apparent pain in your head that was growing all together. You were about to close your eyes and wait for the inevitability of being let go either tonight or first thing in the morning when you stopped yourself. Through the leaves of the tree, you could still see the night sky, and the brilliant number of stars that were beginning to show.

You got up, wincing as you maneuvered to pick up your bag, and walked further out over to a crate that was close by the fence. You positioned it so that you were sitting on the crate but resting your arms on one of the wooden planks. As you looked up, a few things suddenly dawned on you.

First, you have rarely ever looked up at the night sky here in Australia. Second, you have rarely been outside at night during your whole time here in Australia, besides the occasional bathroom break. And third…

The Australian night sky was breathtakingly beautiful.

You didn’t think you'd ever seen this many stars in your life. Back home, the city night sky, when you looked up at it, hardly showed any indication of stars. It was always dark, looming and glooming over you. It felt miserable to look at, so you never did. But tonight, here in the desert, the amount of stars and the big bright moon casting the area in a calming deep blue hue that made it bright enough to still see everything was nothing like you had seen before. You didn’t feel dread when looking up at it like you had in the city before. There was something to it that made you feel a sense of calmness that you hadn’t experienced in a long while.

It was peaceful.

The serenity of the scattered stars shining over you was short-lived. You could hear precise footsteps from behind walking over to you. You exhaled through your nose in annoyance, already preparing yourself mentally for the chewing out you were likely going to get. You still stared ahead, but in your peripheral vision you saw Elliott Marston come up to your left and lean his own arms against the fence, still dressed in that all black attire that he typically wore.

You don’t even know how he was able to do that with how intensely hot it got during the day. At night you could see how the outfit could work for him, blending into the shadows. But during the day he stuck out like a sore thumb amongst his men.

“Seems you and Coogan had a quarrel.” He said in a strangely calm voice, looking down at you.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes at his tone. He always had this sense of superiority that was more than just being someone’s boss when he talked to others. It was like he viewed himself as better than everyone else in the room. You hated it. You figured that’s why he wore all black, just so he could stand out among the rest. He could surely hear you scoff at him, with how quiet it was, and could surely see you roll your eyes at him, given that he was standing above you while you were still sitting down and could see your face clearly. But once again, he didn’t comment on your reaction directly and continued.

“I don’t appreciate fighting among my workers, nothing gets done once they do.”

“And I don’t appreciate the disrespect he showed to my parents,” A quick brief pause, before you decided to add the last part, “And to the Aboriginals.” You figured that since you were already in the shit, you might as well go further into it.

You could tell he cocked his head at you as you still stared straight ahead.

“I could understand defending your parents honor, but to defend such an uncivilized kind of-”

You cut him off, finally looking up at him. “You think you’re any better than them?”

For a split moment, the unreadable stare he normally had finally had an expression to tie it down to, that being shock. He really must’ve not been expecting you to say something to him. Maybe he figured that you would turn yellow and try to smooth the situation out for your sake. He was wrong. The emotion was there for only a moment as he composed himself to get back into his usual stare. But you could tell that the gears in his head were turning much like a clock. As if he was trying to convince himself that you didn’t say what you just said to him.

“They’ve come and ruined our crops and livestock, something that keeps us fed and workers a job, which includes you mind you.” He said in an even calmer tone of voice. Like he was restraining himself. Like he was giving you another out to take back what you said and learn to respect what he was saying.

But it didn’t. And you had no problem in not restraining yourself.

“And you don’t think for a second that maybe it’s because of what you’re doing to them? They’ll easily make trades with those in the other towns as I’ve heard, with no issues whatsoever. No bloodshed from either group. Meanwhile, you and your men hold hunting parties when they travel through the desert, to get away from you, mind you.”

He seemed like he was going to rebuttal that statement, but you weren’t done.

“I hear you talk about how you’re a student for other countries like America. Wearing your intelligence like it’s a badge. But if you can’t see how your ruthless acts are on par to what you claim the Aboriginals are doing to you, then you mustn’t be a good one.”

You looked back up to the stars.

“You’re no better than any of them.”

You were certain that your chances of getting fired were increased by the max right now. And if there was initially no chance of him taking more drastic measures, such as leaving you to die in Australia, the chances were increased now. But you couldn’t keep your opinions to yourself any longer. You respected yourself too much for that. Even now, when you could feel his intense gaze burning into you, you weren’t going to beg for his mercy.

The few moments of silence were so heavy and filled with tension, only being broken by the night sounds and distant barking of a dingo, or coyote, you still couldn’t tell the difference. You were just waiting for the moment that he would break it by whatever reaction he saw fit.

But the reaction you got wasn’t what you expected.

“You don’t know me well enough to make that judgement.”

You were about to counter that statement when what he said right after stopped you.

“But I suppose the same could be said about me to you.”

You didn’t understand what he meant by that. And why he said it in a much softer and more thoughtful tone than how he was originally speaking. But you didn’t have time to ponder that as he added more to your confusion.

“I’m a man of my word. I intended to uphold the deal between your cousin and I.”

Well at least your relatives’ identity got squared away, though you were certain he was old enough to be your uncle.

But that wasn’t important right now. You were still trying to figure out how he was even allowing you to breathe at this point.

You waited to hear if he would then explain the consequence for speaking and acting like that towards his men and especially to him. But a moment passed, and he still didn’t say anything. He kept staring out to where you were looking at, which was right at the stars. Getting lost into them just as much as you had been a moment prior.

You were about to bite the bullet and ask him what the catch was to still being employed to him, but he got up from where he was standing and began to walk back. As he walked, he spoke in that calm yet full of that superiority tone of voice he normally had.

“That fence is not stable. Unless you plan on working with a lantern, I expect you to be working on it early in the morning.”

You just looked at him as he continued walking away, dumbfounded. That task was like the other tasks he had given you before. So, it wasn’t like he was going to work you to death. Unless he had that planned for later. But if he was truly a man of his word then he was still going to keep the deal going. You could only assume that this meant he wasn’t going to decrease the pay. Surely if he did, he would know that you would write to your cousin about it, leading to more complications between the two.

So, what was it. What was the catch that he had planned.

You weren’t sure, and you knew it would be best to keep your guard up for the coming days. But for now… you looked back up to the stars one more time. You could tell that the calmness that they brought will be helpful to get you through whatever was going to happen within the next, however long you were employed here.

You took comfort in knowing that the stars would be there when the catch came.

[rna-world]

LOTG REGION MAP

This is a map for all the regions (and some subregions) for LOTG, at least the ones that are important. The other areas are just even more cities and factories, with a lot of empty space in between.

REGION DESCS BELOW (its long)

Refinery [HF] Heavy Factory

A foul stench covers the facility. Monstrous factories filled with dangerous organisms filter through the earth for precious minerals. Even after their departure, their machines continued on, their crunching echoing through the walls.

Derelict Sprawls [DU] Derelict Urban

The one of the oldest remaining cities on the surface, many refused to abandon it to live atop the iterators, and simply fortified further. Though it seems to have not worked out for them.

Sub-region: Cathedral

A place of prayer and worship, those who came to the cathedrals sought some form of guidance. When Sixteenth Boundary Collapse was constructed, the cathedrals had been integrated into them.

Abandoned Rail [AR]

A rail station connecting Refinery and Sprawls, proving obsolete after the Lineside was constructed. Most of the station has sunk deep into the earth or been washed away by the rains.

Quiet Bay [QB]

The rain shadow caused by SBC’s can has left the skies of the bay rather calm. Some cycles are clear enough to see the neighboring iterator group on the horizon. Small temples dot the shores.

Arboreal Lineside [AL]

A commercial rail line, linking together the iterators separated by the mountains. Most of the rail remains above the clouds, undamaged by rain. Vultures and other aerial life have claimed it as their nesting grounds.

Tundra [CF] Cold Farms

A quiet, vast snowy plain. Early civilizations settled here long ago due to the dense rains and nearby lake. Though these early settlements were built over in favor of agricultural land, not all of it was completely destroyed. Grass eats away at the bricks, unveiling the past.

Evergreen Backlet [EB]

Across the temperate forests of plants is an urban sprawl blanketed in snow. Each building and complex towering and spreading like an invasive species, the greenery below struggling. Yet the further traveled from Thirteen Catastrophes, the steeper the climb becomes, and the more the rainfall begins to freeze to snow. Yet the suburbs still feel endless.

Swamped Peaks [SP]

Once a beautiful mountain range, now treated like a septic tank. The rainfall from the local iterator has turned the once untouched snow into a disgusting slurry. Mounds of strange biomass fill the caves, alongside terrible predators, conditioned by the cold.

Sub-region: Observatory

At the highest point lies the unfortunate remains of an astronomical research laboratory, far from the reaches of the iterator rains. However, it’s condition has since deteriorated, housed now by scavengers and whatever escaped the sewers.

The Sewers [BD] Biomass Dump

A labyrinth of musky tunnels and sumps spreads like roots through the range. A dangerous place, filled with discarded biomass, sticking to the walls in a thick film. One wrong step could lead you to being devoured by the writhing masses, or right into the rushing currents of what may not even be water anymore.

Glacier [SG] Superstructure Glacier

Living blocks stacked into towers higher than previously imagined, the alleys below uncomfortably squeezed together. Bridges between buildings, creating a canopy of sorts. Though, rather than the city being reclaimed by nature, it appears the iterator itself is reclaiming it.

Sub-region: House of Bows

Architecturally unimpressive compared to the Temple of Nexus or Council of Droplets, yet a wonder in its own way. Swarmers fill the vacant rooms, iterator biomass crammed in the corners, weaving between wall to wall. It’s difficult to tell where building ends, and creature begins.

Eroded Basin [NB] NPM Basin

Nine Purple Mountains was constructed within the basin in order to contain the water vapor and protect the Steppe and Scablands. The rainfall only further widened the basin, causing structural damage to the buildings and facilities above. Scrap, garbage, and rubble fills the basin below them now.

Dry Canyon [CA] Canyon Alley

The skeleton of a river, dried up from iterator activity. Many attempts at constructing railways and other settlements lie dead and abandoned. Though it remains one of the only safe routes from OOQT to NPM.

Scablands [WD] Wild Desert

The ground fractals and forms into scars in the earth, rocks scabbing the surface. Vibrant wildlife flourishing in little patches. Temples and sanctuaries scattered throughout, serving and taking care of those lost within the beautifully cruel desert. They had tried their best to protect these lands from iterator rains.

Sub-region: Oasis

Go east, past the crumbling temples, and deep into the wild as you can go, you will find it. A lake so deep it’s thought to lead to the void sea. Many have drowned trying to find the bottom themselves. Perhaps there’s another path down?

Untouched Steppe [US]

Untouched by rains, that is. Rolling plains of shrubs and grasses, with skies so clear you can see the stars from the surface. Cities built around religious sites spread wide, seemingly making do with what little water there is. Though it may seem rather lifeless, droves of wild creatures appear from their burrows and dens during the cool nights.

Mausoleum [DC] Desert Crypts

Just below the mountains is a large graveyard of sorts. The memories of those who have moved on and left this material world lined in rows, stacked like blocks, sand and dust slowly enveloping them. Fierce organisms guard these crypts, guarding what is already largely forgotten.

River Reservoir [RR]

The wetlands that surrounded the river were built atop of and excavated in favor of creating water pumps and tanks for the iterators. As a result, the water levels began to fluctuate rapidly in response to the rains. Though the architecture is designed around this, a creature in the wrong spot may end up swallowed by the river.

Archipelago [AP]

What was once a large plain has been drowned and eroded by a single, rather large iterator. What remains now are a few islands and external facilities and factories peeking out over the dirty waters.

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

Quisalos: A Map

Here's the map! I'll go further in depth later, but for now, have a brief explanation of each of the regions:

Meridania: A collection of islands in the bitter, bitter north, and a wellspring of oil. Once home to majestic sapient wool-giants, it is now the home of the strange cross-breed between humans and the extinct giants, who have developed their own culture, language, and traditions, the most interesting of which being their insistence on replacing one of their lungs with a metal engine at birth.

Pentetia: A land cursed by the great goddess Aeya and forced to split from their mainland for the sin of playing god. Home to the sprawling, hot-spring steam-powered city of Antinia, and the last vestiges of the hubristic Aeyan civilisation.

Kzimarke: The land closest to Pentetia, it is home to the Xanterans, who enjoy sailing up and down the Rift, fishing and carrying trade to the Antinians, the inhabitants of the White Hells, and even occasionally as far as the Sinssilki Islands. A generally peaceful place, so long as you don't disturb the cursed temple of Curl.

Parsus' Plains: Legend has it, a long time ago, Mother fell from the sky. Upon a young man named Parsus, she set her eye. She made him king, and named all the lands about them after him. Long after he died, Mother lived, mourning him with her deep sleep. The Kartavaians (Mother's Children) pray that one day she will awaken, and her children will blot out the sky with their many limbs. In the meantime, however, they wait, and they learn. Home to the best healers in all of Quisalos, if you're willing to stomach their... eccentricities.

The Flocklands (referred to by their own people as the Realm of the Haven-King): With a stauncher religious system than any other society, and a capital known as Haven's Blessing, these people (whose naming prowess leaves much to be desired) filled nearly the entire Flocklands with fields and animal farms, producing more wheat, wool, and bloodlusty evangelists than anyone knows what to do with. Beware their 'holy water'.

The Amber Prince's Lands, or Amber-ko: The proud country ruled by an immortal prince who, for whatever reason, covets amber and any other precious stone. Though his wife the Queen is long dead, he still rules on her behalf, sending troops aggressively into the Forests of Oniiki to reach the Kilaen Mountains beyond for mining. They have close ties with anywhere that produces gemstones, and a murderous hatred of everywhere else. This generally means an endless tripartite feud between them, the Flocklands, and the Kynigiou.

The Coasts of Centalis: The most civilised land in all of Quisalos, where a variety of independent, secular, city-states stand, trading amongst each other and sending grand sailboats as far as to continents Beyond to fuel their constant thirst for novelty. The Universities are here, and it is the only place in the world where all peoples gather and share the knowledge of their religions freely.

The Forests of Oniiki and Parsus: This is where the vicious, savage Kynigiou live, feasting on the flesh of any interlopers and sending near-constant hunting parties into Amber-ko and rhe Flocklands. It is said their huntresses have the endurance of ten regular men, and their prophetesses really can see the future. Perhaps their savagery keeps them closer to magic than the other peoples.

Marna's Swamp and the Larnis Archipelago: Once upon a time, there was a powerful witch named Marna. She tried to take the Sinssilki god, Larnis, as her husband against his will, with a powerful potion, and though she succeeded in wedding him while he was drugged, he smited her where she stood not long after. The Sinssilki consider the mangrove swamp, and the rest of the archipelago, to be a dangerous place where only Larnis' chosen may wander.

Sinssilki Islands: A collection of tropical islands, each with their own patron god. The people there are said to be happy because they have no free will, the price they paid to escape the darkness of the false god Jissaz.

The White Hells: a bitterly cold desert that holds more secrets than it does water. Within it lies Mount Lika and the holy city of Likanarsi, the famously well-guarded city of Assasins, Kasaia, as well as Maatarsi, where witch doctors take life essence from those in need of abortions and the eternally youthful Kisania.

Isle of Fiintefaalos: Home to an incredibly reclusive people, the fauna there appear to have diverged from the mainland a very long time ago, leading to a bizarre and colourful landscape, full of remarkably nonhostile creatures. A haven for hunting grounds, if only the Fiinte people were not vegetarians and staunch defenders of their lands.

Hope this was more fun to read! I encourage y'all to ask me as many questions as humanly possible ;)

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[morverenmaybewrites]

Diluc x Fatui!Reader Snippet

Imagine winter in Sneznahya, in the furthest, coldest part of the region. Where the sun dips below the snow-capped mountains and will not surface again for six months.

(You have nightmares that one day, you will wake and you will no longer remember its face.)

(After all, you have already forgotten what it feels like to be warm.)

Imagine a river, so wide that it cuts through the continent like a hungry maw. Where the currents run so vicious that in spring, no boat dares cross it.

In the winter, it is frosted over, the ice so dark that it gleams like glass.

And yet, no one dares walk across it. For everyone has heard the stories of foolhardy travelers or perhaps the righteous fools burning to bring justice to the Fatui: of a single treacherous step causing the ice to crack. In the endless silence of Sneznahya, the sound would be as loud as a gunshot.

The ice would give way underneath one’s feet.

And the river would swallow them whole.

The drowning, however, would be perfectly silent. Their lungs would freeze before they have time to scream.

This place needs no guards, no gaolers, no ice-cold bars and the rattle of rusted keys on a chain. The river is enough.

And yet, they insist you are not a prisoner.

They call you—

(A criminal.

A monster.)

An honored guest.

They serve you steaming bowls of borst, with meat so tender it falls off the bone. Thick stacks of syrnik drizzled in honey so golden that it reminds you of summer.

They ply you with bottles of sweet kvass, so dark that you imagine it stains your teeth like tar.

And yet, you cannot leave.

You wonder how long they plan to make you endure this honor.

Imagine this: you harbor a terrible secret.

You are the one who created the monstrosities called delusions. The vile abominations that traded one’s life for power.

And when you had refused to make more, they put you here, at the edge of the world. Where you are guarded by a river so wide that it splits the region like a hungry maw.

Where the sun has dipped below the snow-capped mountains and will not surface again for six months.

Where you wake each morning feeling a little bit colder, a little bit weaker, your thoughts beginning to fog like figures in the snow.

(The drowning, it is said, is perfectly silent.)

And then imagine: fire.