#Lord of Eroded Fire

[fogaminghub]

🎉🌌 Travelers Unite! The new year kicks off with Genshin Impact Version 5.3 - Incandescent Ode of Resurrection! Team up with Mavuika and Citlali to tackle the Abyss and celebrate the Lantern Rite with amazing events and new characters! ✨ Are you ready for the journey ahead? Share your thoughts about the latest update!

[genshinimpactresources]

Genshin Impact | Version 5.3 “Incandescent Ode of Resurrection” Key Visuals

Cleaned and upscaled by asddzr on bilibili

Download Link (Google Drive)

[dragaliareferencearchive]

Incandescent Ode of Resurrection - Genshin Impact

[endlessskymaster]

New Bosses introduced in 5.3 via 5.3's special program:

Lord of Eroded Primal Fire

Wayward Hermetic Spiritspeaker

[kitsunabi]

The mental record scratch while I'm experiencing the Natlan Act V quest with all the grand symphony and epic cutscene fight (hyv did good ngl)

which transitions to the epic We Get Pyro Element as it dings all 6 constellations where i'm just like "YEAAAAA!!!!"

".....Now hol' up i gotta read the description on the abilities"

[ghostlysoaps]

Johnny works as a yeoman in a nobleman's household. It’s a nice enough life. Quite a bit of work keeping the place tidy, dinner on the table and his master’s affairs in order all on his own but he receives a fair wage, a full belly and a warm place to sleep in exchange. His charge is kind and his penchant for tidiness, in all places but his office-turned-workstation, makes life significantly easier for him.

Until a letter arrives one day, written in an unsteady hand and ripe with errors, the scent of floral perfume clinging to the parchment. His mother doesn’t have long for this world and the allowance he receives from his Lord, which he always leaves her, has paid for the medication she'd needed to slow her deterioration. Unfortunately, time has eroded its effectiveness. The least he can do is be there during her final days as is her last wish. He realises then, with a heaping dose of guilt, that his visits had been sparse over the years.

He asks for a couple of days of leave, neglecting to mention why in his grief, which Simon grants him immediately. Johnny frets over him but is waved away with barely a glance since Simon is bent over his work – as is so often the case. Once he's packed and ready to leave, Simon assures him he’ll be fine and Johnny doesn’t have the energy to insist he finds a temporary replacement.

Two weeks later he returns to a frazzled Simon and a mess of a house. How he’d ever managed it in such a short amount of time Johnny will never know. Especially worrying is the stove-top, which looks to have caught on fire if the soot-stained wallpaper above it is any indication.

Simon scurries over as soon as the rasp of the unlatching lock sounds and clasps Johnny’s hands in his, asking earnestly what he can possibly do to never have Johnny leave him again.

Johnny, exhausted as he is, makes an off-handed joke that Simon marry him before he retreats to his chambers, promising to take on the task of putting the house back in order first thing in the morning.

Well… Simon has always been a man of action.

[genshin-impact-updates]

New Boss: "Lord of Eroded Primal Fire"

Hello, Traveler!

After the Version 5.3 update, you will encounter a new Boss, "Lord of Eroded Primal Fire." Let's check out what special traits it has and how to deal with them~

[snnrinc]

Dance of Hearts

[AO3 Portal]

— PAIRING : Wyll Ravengard x GN!Reader/Tav

— TAGS : NSFW, jealousy, oral (Wyll receiving), overstimulation, fluff and smut, gender neutral reader, reader is insecure, Wyll is a loving husband, no mention of reader's genitals but they are the receiving partner

SUMMARY : You needed more, you needed to see him crumble beneath you, begging you to push him right over the edge. You needed him to chant your name and sinful declarations of love and devotion until it was the only thing you could hear falling from his sweet tongue, until the image of those bastards putting their hands on him and keeping him away from you all night was replaced by the one of Wyll coming undone and looking up at you in adoration.

And being the ever doting husband, Wyll was more than happy to make your fantasies a reality.

— WORD COUNT : 4.7k

— AUTHOR'S NOTE : Since Larian didn't give us a scene with Wyll, I have taken it upon myself to ensure I write this man as satisfied.

The liquid in your glass swirled with each rotation of your wrist, holding your attention if only for a few moments. It was enough of a distraction to allow you a second to regulate your expression, lest your eyebrow twitch in annoyance again right in front of some of the most influential people of Baldur's Gate. You attempted to sip again from the glass, but the way your drink burned down your throat like liquid fire was enough to have you pull back and hurriedly mask how your nose scrunched up at the sensation. Some draconic alcoholic drink, you recalled, one that you didn't bother to remember the name of, but that you should've expected would be so strong since it was crafted by people who can breathe actual fire.

You set your drink down on a table in your little corner of the room, abandoning it for whatever butler was quick to snatch it to maintain the spotless appearance of the ballroom. Now without your distraction, you scanned the room, noting how even while basking in the brilliant glimmer of the chandeliers hanging above, you still managed to blend into the shadows. Something told you it wasn't your well-honed stealth skills that kept the nobles' attention away from you. Rather, you were sure the hostility came from being akin to an intruder in the upper class, the hero of Baldur's Gate that married into nobility, your background be damned.

The air was thick with rare alcoholic drinks and expensive perfumes, enough to make you nauseous as arrogant laughter and shameless gossip intermingled in a cacophony of upper city superiority, a tune that you always begrudgingly played to. Or tried to, at least. You were sure the fake smiles and sugar-coated pleasantries shared amongst the nobility around you were enough to make even Astarion gag, let alone you. But perhaps your attitude towards the entire event that you were attending was also contributing to your unwillingness to mingle and meddle in affairs you had no interest in.

At last, your scrutinising gaze fell on the person you were most excited to see: your husband Wyll. His presence shone from the middle of a group of lords and ladies that were engaged in a political discussion like a ray of sunshine slipping through the cracks of a dull wall eroded by corruption. You felt your shoulders relax the moment your eyes met and his smile softened just for you. With a polite wave and a sweet smile, you began walking towards him, making sure to use a proper posture so as to maintain his image and yours.

You saw Wyll excuse himself and exchange handshakes and smiles with the other noblemen, bowing politely before he began his journey to meet you halfway. You sighed in relief that finally you'd have the opportunity to dance with your husband, spend some time holding him close so you could drown out the world and focus on his calming presence, but your plans were cut short the moment a woman stepped in his path and bowed her head with reverence, asking him if he'd spare a dance. With an apologetic look sent your way, he politely accepted her request and led her towards the centre of the ballroom, taking their place in an elegant dance amidst the other couples.

It wouldn't have been a problem for you, if it didn't keep happening.

One after another, more and more men and women began interrupting you and your husband, stealing him away for whatever political or business conversation, getting too close whenever they requested a dance or offering drinks too insistently. It had your blood boiling.

Your mood only continued to sour whenever you'd notice people leering at your husband, their hands far too comfortable on his waist, their heads bowing in much too close of a proximity to his, their eyes narrowing and lips turning into arrogant smiles whenever they caught you glaring from across the room. The fact that you felt out of place certainly did not help your feelings.

Before you knew it, the night had ended without you having any chance to even talk to your husband, let alone dance with him, and your thoughts had been left alone to marinate for longer than it was healthy.

Which is why you now felt on the verge of tears whenever you caught a glimpse of Wyll from the corner of your eye, walking beside you towards your shared bedchamber. You could tell he was tired, could see it on his face as his eyelids fell heavy half-way through. You blinked away tears of anger and frustration and fiddled with your sleeves as you tried to collect your thoughts, but whenever you managed to put them into place, they fell apart and spiralled once again.

You were a burden, one to be ashamed of. To think that Wyll just graciously took each and every insult thrown at him about his new demonic appearance only to now have yet another stain upon his reputation, his spouse no less, the one who was supposed to be lifting him up and enhancing his image, not tarnishing it further. You were aware most of it just came from ruthless gossip, but being marginalised either out of arrogance or out of jealousy was starting to get to you. You began to see the images all the mean-spirited whispers were trying so hard to project into your mind: perhaps Wyll would be better suited at the side of a better person, maybe one of the people that kept stealing him away for a romantic dance, a more handsome man with power over commerce, a more graceful woman who could charm others into agreeing with Wyll's plans to better the city. Someone who was not you.

By the time you reached your room, you didn't even realise just how obvious your feelings were on your face. You opened the door more forcefully than necessary and stepped inside, a confused and worried Wyll following you closely. You sat down on the bed unceremoniously and began to unlace whatever strings were holding your emblazoned jacket tied neatly.

“Love, is everything alright with you?”

You looked up, ready to brush off any concerns Wyll would voice, but your train of thought was cut off right as your eyes met with his. He regarded you with such care, worry swimming in his soft eyes as he kneeled beside you and placed his hand over your knee. You shook your head and tried to tell him he can just sit beside you, but you knew he wanted to have a direct line of vision to your troubled gaze.

“You've been acting off this evening. Do you want to talk about it?”

His gentle tone pulled at your heartstrings. It made you want to wrap your arms around him and kiss him while also wanting to just break down crying in frustration.

Instead, you decided that he had dealt with enough stress for one night.

“Nothing, dear. I'm okay, just tired,” you said through a fake smile and reached out to brush your fingers across his cheek.

“Don't lie to me.” His firm response had your expression drop, and although his touch was gentle as he leaned into your palm to kiss it, his eyes were almost admonishing you for trying to deflect. “I won't pry if you don't wish to tell me, but just know you don't have to hide from me.”

Oh how easy it was for him to slip through the cracks of your armour, it was almost scary. With a frown, you decided to come clean, unable to resist the need to fall into his comforting arms, wishing just to hear his voice whispering vows of his undying devotion to you as you drifted off to sleep.

“You deserve the world, Wyll,” you said, voice shaking with emotion. “I can't even give you a fraction of that. Not in the way that another could…”

“What are you talking about?” His hands came to cup your cheeks softly and you leaned into his warm touch, grabbing onto his wrist like a lifeline, the only tether left to your self-control. “You've already given me the world; it's standing right in front of me, the love of my life. I often feel like the colours around me are so vibrant simply because of your radiating presence. What have I done to make you think otherwise?”

You shook your head quickly, noticing how doubt and sorrow settled in his expression. “No, no, it's not that! You didn't do anything, I just…” Wyll remained quiet, waiting for you to take in a small breath and continue. “I know you've noticed the way the other nobles look at you, the way they talk about our union. Despite everything that happened, they see me as less than, or perhaps a threat to a potential opportunity to get closer to you.”

“Surely you wouldn't want me stuck in a loveless marriage with a pompous noble whose most interesting attribute is a stick they keep hidden where the sun doesn't reach.”

“Of course not, Wyll.” You frowned and Wyll fell silent. “I feel like I don't belong. These people kept you away from me all night and kept throwing mean glares my way. I didn't want to complain because I know you're dealing with a lot, but I don't like the way they kept sticking to you like leeches.”

“So you're jealous? Is that it?”

“Well maybe I am jealous!” you suddenly burst out. “Maybe I am, because you're just so perfect that I don't understand how you chose me when you could've had anyone else in the world!”

You breathed out and finally registered the surprised face of Wyll. He opened his mouth, but before any words could spill out, you pulled yourself out of his grasp and turned away, ashamed at your irrational outburst. Gods, maybe you had too much to drink, maybe a single sip of draconic alcohol was enough to have you getting dizzy in embarrassment and frustration. How childish, to just spill out your insecurities in anger. Perhaps this was why others deemed you unfit to be one of the rulers of Baldur's Gate.

“My love,” came Wyll's soothing voice, but you dared not turn to look him in the eye. “Would you believe me if I said that every morning when I wake up and I'm greeted with your sleeping face on the pillow next to mine, I tell myself I'm not worthy of this?” You sighed and crossed your arms, unsure if you could even believe such a thing. “You're… incredible. You're more than I could have ever asked for and you have no idea how lucky I am to be by your side. The fact that I get to call you my spouse is honestly a dream come true.”

He took a step closer to you and gently placed his hands on your arm, turning you around slowly and searching your eyes. Your shoulders relaxed when you felt his warmth close and you allowed yourself to look back at his loving gaze. One of his hands came up to caress your cheek once again, a gentle smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

“We've endured many dangers in our adventures. I'd do it all over again for you. I'd traverse the flames of Avernus, I'd fight any monster in Faerûn, I'd endure any pain so long as I get to see you smile. Those posh people from high society don't know you like I do. They don't know me like you do.” Softly, he placed his forehead against yours, his other hand moving up your arm to rest on the other side of your face as you placed your hands on his waist. “I could never love anyone else like I love you, my heart. The flaws that you see in yourself, they only add to your perfection to me.”

“Wyll…”

“Don't push me away, please,” he said, a hint of desperation lacing his voice. “I love you. Let me love you.”

His lips brushed against yours, pulling back slightly, and when you chased his kiss he fully gave in to you. He pulled you close, one hand falling to wrap around your waist and press your body against his as you got lost into the sweetness of his mouth. The way he kissed you was loving, sensuous, but you were hungry, greedily craving more of his love and touch. You parted your lips and swiped your tongue on the bottom of his lip, and with a grunt of pleasure, he granted you access to deepen the kiss.

Your hands moved from his hips to his chest, fingers finding the buttons of his satin shirt and unbuttoning them with urgency. When your hands dipped beneath the fabric to feel his skin, he let out a soft moan and pulled back slightly, only for your lips to trail down his jaw and to his neck, kissing every bit that you could reach.

“Slow, slow, my love, slow,” he muttered, breath hitching when you kissed the spot right under his ear. “Let me take care of you. I want us to take our time.”

He placed his hands on your arms and pulled you away just enough to look at you. You finally took your time to admire him, his clothes that up until that moment had been neatly covering his body were now rumpled from your hands pulling at them. You hadn't had time to light any of the candles around your bedchamber, but the large windows allowed enough moonlight to fall through the room to see the details of his appearance, the angles of his face. His chest was slightly exposed, a thin layer of sweat already forming over his skin. His lips were swollen from your kiss, still wet and parted to allow shallow breaths to pass through. And his eyes… Despite his gentlemanly words about taking his time to make you feel good, they were positively burning with lust. But even so, the love he held for you managed to shine through when his expression softened as he took in your dishevelled look.

“Okay,” you responded, nodding your head. “Let's take it slow then.”

He smiled at your words and leaned in to kiss your forehead, his hands moving to the laces and buttons holding your shirt together. “May I?”

You nodded and moved closer, capturing his lips in a kiss once again but letting him set the pace this time, slow and loving, melting into him as his fingers pushed away the fabrics from your body. Your hands grabbed the silky material of his shirt, pulling it from his trousers and working in tandem with him to undress each other. Eventually, you were both nude before each other, your expensive clothes scattered haphazardly on the floor.

His hands were gentle as they traversed your skin, slow and graceful as they traced each curve and edge of your body, your own exploring the expanse of his back, moving to his sides, abdomen, then travelling higher up to his chest. He moaned softly in your mouth when your palms grazed his nipples, one of his hands twitching against your hip while the other found its way towards your chest.

Without breaking the kiss, you guided Wyll to your bed until his legs hit the frame and he pulled away to lay down. You took your place on top of him, lowering your head to pepper kisses across his face that had him chuckling. You smiled, trailing your lips back to his jaw, this time slower than before, kissing down his neck and collarbone. He sighed at the feeling, your hands moving across his body to feel each ridge and bump on his skin—courtesy of his demonic attributes—only serving to pull him deeper in a trance. His skin felt hot beneath your fingers, his breathing getting heavier with each soft kiss you planted on his body, your lips eventually reaching his nipple and wrapping around it as you swiped your tongue against it. Wyll gasped, placing one hand to the nape of your neck, feeling goosebumps spread on his skin when your fingers found his other nipple.

“My love,” he began, followed by another soft moan. “I'm supposed to be taking care of you.”

“Please, Wyll, I need this.”

He didn't argue further, the hint of desperation in your voice not lost on him. You shifted lower on his body, pressing close to him while your abdomen brushed against his hardness, pulling a hiss from between his teeth. The sound only served to spur you on as you continued your journey down his stomach, your hands drifting to his hips while you felt him melt under your kisses. Eventually, when you were satisfied with how breathless he seemed to be from the smallest of touches, you caressed his thigh with one hand, going higher and higher as his muscles tensed under your palm, then twitched when you finally wrapped your hand around him.

“My heart!” Wyll gasped, his wrist quickly finding yours and touching it gently. “You don't have to-”

“Will you be good for me, my dear?”

Wyll looked down and was reminded why he was so thankful of the darkvision that his good eye offered, perhaps the only positive from his curse, for as soon as his gaze landed on you he was sure he was enchanted. Your eyes were looking back at him, shadowed by lust, commanding submission to your will, with your hand firmly wrapped around him, your lips inching closer to the tip of his cock.

“Yes,” Wyll answered, his voice barely a whisper. Although his tongue felt like lead in his mouth, he was willing to agree to whatever you suggested, if only you'd keep looking at him like that. “I'll be good.”

You offered him a smile, your tongue darting out to lick gently at his tip, relishing the way he gasped out your name with a trembling voice. You shifted your hand slightly, pressing your tongue flat at his base then dragging it upwards, the simple movement already having Wyll throw his head back in pleasure, but even so, some shakes of excitement and a few soft moans were not enough. You needed more, you needed to see him crumble beneath you, begging you to push him right over the edge. You needed him to chant your name and sinful declarations of love and devotion until it was the only thing you could hear falling from his sweet tongue, until the image of those bastards putting their hands on him and keeping him away from you all night was replaced by the one of Wyll coming undone and looking up at you in adoration.

You groaned at the thought, opening your mouth and finally tasting him fully, hollowing your cheeks to make sure you fit as much of him as you could. The choked moan that slipped from Wyll's lips only further sent you deeper into desire, your tongue swirling around him as your hand worked him in tandem, making sure that whatever part you couldn't take would not go neglected. Your free hand rested on his thigh for support, feeling the muscles flex with each bob of your head, each suck and lick, as your fingers dug into it. Wyll's moans became more constant, falling from every other breath and beckoning you like a siren's song. You moaned as well, the vibration of your voice reverberating through his length and making his mind melt.

His fingers found your head, placing his palms on it gently but not daring to make any move to push you lower, cautious not to hurt you even while lost in the throes of pleasure. Instead, he tried to distract himself from the urge to thrust into your mouth by muttering sweet praises under his breath, shivers cascading down his body with each beat of his heart, each pulse of arousal. He was approaching the sweet precipice at a dizzying speed, with how you were licking and sucking at him, swallowing every drop of precum leaking from his tip. His body was hot, trembling beneath you, and soon enough his mind was so far gone in a fog of lust that he began to mindlessly string together words he hoped made sense.

“P-please, my love,” he uttered breathlessly, a whine escaping him. “Gods, please! Please, I'm so close!”

You hummed, earning a grunt from him at the vibration coursing through him, and when you felt the muscles in his thighs tense up, you raised your head. Wyll groaned, throwing his head back, your tongue teasingly tracing the length of his cock again. His fingers twitched on your head, palms pushing you down slightly in a silent demand for more before he stopped himself and gripped the sheets instead.

“Hells, why did you stop?” he asked, looking down at you with a disappointed frown only to be met with a serious expression. “Love? What's wrong?”

You gently caressed his thigh, tilting your head slightly as you watched him try to catch his breath, concerned clearly written on his face. You shifted, slowly crawling higher on his body.

“Remember when we took a vow?”

Confusion glinted in his eyes, but still he regarded you with sincerity, raising his hand so he could caress your cheek.

“How could I forget? It was the happiest day of my life.”

Satisfied, you lowered your head to press kisses up his chest, speaking between each one, “What did we promise each other?”

“That we'll be together, come what may.”

You hummed, kissing his neck, then his cheek, while your hand slithered lower to wrap around his cock again, revelling in how his breath hitched. Your lips shifted to his ear while Wyll placed his palms on your hips, guiding you closer to where he needed your body.

“And who did you vow to belong to?” you continued, your teeth grazing against the edge of his earlobe.

“You,” Wyll responded right away, almost eager to proclaim it. “I belong to you.”

You smiled at his answer, positioning yourself on top of him so the tip of his cock would line up with your entrance. Your thumb caressed his cheekbone affectionately as you lifted your head to look into his eyes, the adoration you held for him clearly visible through the specks of lust still swimming in your gaze.

“And who do I belong to, forever and always?”

Wyll raised his hand from your hip to run his knuckles against your cheek gently, regarding you like you were the embodiment of peace and beauty, washing over him like sunlight, your every touch akin to the summer breeze. Refreshing, calming, hot.

“You're mine,” he answered, eyes darkening once he felt you rub against him, so close to finally enveloping him in your warmth. “All mine.”

You leaned down and pressed your lips against his, your tongue swiping across his bottom lip as he opened his mouth to taste you in return. You lowered your body slowly, both of you moaning in each other's mouth as he entered you at last, your body adjusting to him and wrapping around him like the Gods themselves carved the shape of you to match his. It didn't take long for the embers within him to reignite, raging deep into the pit of his gut like the flames of Avernus, sending rivers of fire through the very marrow of his bones with each thrust.

You broke your kiss to watch Wyll as his mind began to slip, drowning in the passion you both shared. His body was glistening with sweat, muscles shaking as he grasped at whatever part of you he could reach, your hips working in a hypnotising rhythm that had any coherent thought evaporate from both of your minds. To him, you looked divine, your muscles flexing with each movement, mouth slightly agape to let out short breaths and delicious moans, your brows frowned in concentration. It only took you muttering a sincere “I love you” for Wyll to tumble over the edge earlier than he had hoped.

“Hells below,” he whispered, a groan following shortly after when you continued moving even as he came down from his high, his senses going into overdrive at how sensitive he was. “My love, I- Gods, you're still-”

Looking up at you was a mistake on his part, the sinful sight of your eyes gazing at him with such desire overwhelming enough that he thought he'd either come again or have a heart attack. He writhed beneath you, not wanting to stop you when you felt so incredible, like you were guiding him up to the summit of Mount Celestia itself. Wyll discovered he was grateful for one more demonic trait he had been punished with: his stamina. He was sure that was the only thing keeping him from losing his grip on his last thread of sanity.

“You can take it for me, Wyll, can't you?” Gods yes, he could take whatever you wanted if you continued to speak to him like that, the demand in your voice hidden underneath a honeyed tone. “You can give me one more.”

Goosebumps crawled up his body and a choked moan got stuck in his throat as you sped up the pace, watching intently as he fell apart beneath you and began chanting your name like a delirious prayer. Your name, none of those heartless nobles who dared keep him away from you.

“Should've done this sooner,” you said, breathless. “Should've come up to you on that ballroom floor and showed everyone that you're well and thoroughly taken.”

You gripped the headboard, focused on chasing your own release knowing that Wyll was close again. He felt so good, the angle at which you were lowering yourself on him ensuring that he hit every spot you needed him to, until your moans got louder, until your sweet praises and filthy declarations became unintelligible. Before you knew it, you came over him, pulling him right after you into the deep end of white hot pleasure, his hands gripping your hips in an almost bruising manner, while yours dug into the headboard so hard you were surprised you didn't break it. After a moment of catching your breath, you pulled away, groaning at how his softening cock dragged against your walls at the motion, before you collapsed next to him.

It only took a second for Wyll to reach out for you, pulling you close to him, the shaking in his limbs beginning to subside as he pressed loving kisses on the crown of your head. You hugged him back, tracing aimless patterns on his back as you got lost in the scent of him, closing your eyes in bliss.

“Thank you, Wyll,” you uttered, your voice muffled from how your lips pressed to his collarbone.

Wyll pulled away slightly to look at your eyes, the moonlight bleeding through the windows bathing you in an ethereal glow. He almost lost track of what you had said, too preoccupied focusing his entire being on how gorgeous you looked, naked beside him, your tired eyes holding so much love it had his heart skipping several beats. And to think you'd ever believe he could love someone else, when not even the greatest wizards and sorcerers in the Forgotten Realms could have one this enchanted with the love of their life.

Wyll finally remembered what he wanted to say, the back of his palm brushing against your cheek.

“What for?” he asked.

“Reassuring me.”

He chuckled, squeezing you close to his heart, one hand rubbing against your arm.

“You don't need to thank me for that. What kind of husband would I be if I didn't shower my dear spouse in all the affection I can offer?”

You smiled at that, allowing your body to relax in his arms, your breathing evening out as you listened to his heart steadily beating in tandem with yours. You relished how he kissed you so gently, how his hands banished any sort of tension from your muscles, how his presence finally silenced the awful voice in your head that dared to make you think even for a second that Wyll would ever have eyes for another.

Just as you were about to fall asleep, completely at peace enveloped in his warmth, Wyll spoke up:

“I also wouldn't mind repeating myself, if you ever get jealous again.”

You smiled, pinching his side playfully as he laughed and threw the covers over both of you, finally settling into a deep slumber.

[thrashkink-coven]

What I thought being patroned to Lucifer would be like for me:

Lots of intense rituals, blood offerings, and sacrifices to keep the demon lord happy. The work is never done. Strict rules and serious business. This isn’t a game, it’s not supposed be fun or enjoyable. I am being tossed into the fire. Demons and shadow people would follow me everywhere, I’d constantly be protecting myself from his enemies and fighting for my life. I may loose my mind. God would hate me. Lucifer would make my life difficult to help me grow into an enlightened god on earth. He would demand respect and force me to do things to teach me lessons. He would make me hate God. I’d be afraid all the time. My relationships might erode but it’s for the best. I would learn how to live without emotions or worldly connections. An ugly, vengeful demon lord with a terrible voice would appear to me and teach me how to use my hatred to gain control over this world. I won’t like who I am at the end of it but it won’t matter because at least I’ll be free.

What being patroned to Lucifer is actually like for me:

I am God’s favourite. I am constantly spoiled with gifts and celebrated. Most of the demons in the hierarchy immediately recognize me as his and give me respect and right of way. Lucifer doesn’t demand offerings but he gets so excited and touched whenever he receives them. Any time I offer him my blood he acts like it’s an incredible gift. He helps me work through problems and encourages me to live a fulfilling life free from unnecessary stress. He provides me with countless books to educate myself with. He asks me to make art for him and he sends me familiars to remind me he is always protecting me. Shadow people and malevolent spirits cower away from his light. He calls me pet names and asks me to tell him about my day. He tells me how much he loves me every day. He never raises his voice at me or forces me to do anything. The only thing he commands is that I worship and honour myself. He encourages me to pray and heal my relationships with God. He visits me in my dreams to give me kisses. He offers me pleasure and gives me rewards. He loves just spending time together. Every morning when I burn incense at his altar, he thanks me for waking up. My relationships with the people who are good to my grow stronger and more lovely, and my relationships to the people who are bad to me break down so that they can no longer harm me. Crows follow me around and leave me feathers to give him, stray cats and deer like to say hello to me. I see beautiful things every day. Every morning and night I get to watch the Lucifer star rise. and I’m truly happy and at peace for what feels like the first time ever, and there isn’t a problem I can’t overcome. I’m not afraid of anything. He’s so incredibly beautiful and kind, he makes beautiful music with a beautiful voice, and he teaches me to use empathy to understand others. I love him and he loves me. I am free.

[thecreaturecodex]

Protean, Renegwe

"Fang of Nulzann" © Hex Entertainment, by Martin de Diego. Accessed at his deviantArt here

[My final original species of protean, this time embodying plate tectonics as a manifestation of change. I knew I wanted to do a continental drift-themed protean, and this was one of the first art pieces I found when embarking on this project. As a reminder, all of my protean species have a name that's an anagram. I'll be posting the solutions to those at the end of the week.]

Protean, Renegwe CR 19 CN Outsider (extraplanar) This massive creature appears like a snake with a humanoid torso, its body composed of black volcanic rock. A snort hood grows between its head and neck, and a pair of horns like bent stalagmites grows from its head. It shimmers with heat.

A renegwe is a protean devoted to some of the most dramatic changes in the cosmos—plate tectonics. Renegwes are the shepherds of whole continents, observing them move over the course of thousands or millions of years, and steering them if their whims dictate they speed up or slow down. Rather than the immediate thrills of transforming a person into an animal, or the destruction of killing enemies and overthrowing governments, renegwes prefer the gradual pleasures of growing mountains, eroding canyons and rock formation. That is not to say that they cannot be dramatic—a renegwe who grows bored with a landmass’ progress might start earthquakes with magic, or heat up a lava reservoir to re-activate a dormant volcano. 

Few renegwes care much about the short lives of humanoids directly, but may become territorial of particular mineral deposits and protect them from mining or other exploitation. They might also come into conflict with magical creatures that seek to stop or mitigate the destruction their earthquakes and volcanoes engender. A renegwe prefers to fight atop or within a solid surface—although they can fly, they feel much more comfortable when touching earth or stone. Renegwes spew lava from their mouths and can fire exploding boulders from their hands. They have relatively few spell-like abilities compared to other proteans, and prefer simple melee tactics to pitched battles at a distance. 

Renegwes are more common outside the Maelstrom than in it. They dwell mostly deep underground on planets of the Material Planes, or in places where the Planes of Earth and Fire overlap. From these magma-rich bastions, they may plot against the shaitans and efreeti—both of these genies types are lawful, and seek to impose order where the renegwes prefer chaos. Renegwes are natural allies of magma dragons, but these allegiances may be fractious and marked by power struggles. Few renegwes have much interest in the politics of the protean choirs, but may work for a given protean lord on a temporary basis when their interests overlap. The protean lord most sympathetic to the renegwes is Etna, herself a being of volcanic power.

Renegwe        CR 19 XP 204,800 CN Gargantuan outsider (chaotic, earth, extraplanar, fire, protean) Init +6; Senses blindsight 60 ft., darkvision 60 ft., Perception +31, tremorsense 120 ft. Aura cloak of chaos (DC 26)

Defense AC 34, touch 12, flat-footed 32 (-4 size, +2 Dex, +4 deflection, +22 natural) hp 330 (20d10+220) Fort +23, Ref +20, Will +26 DR 15/adamantine and lawful; Immune acid, fire; Resist electricity 10, sonic 10; SR 30 Defensive Abilities amorphous anatomy, fiery body, freedom of movement, rock catching

Offense Speed 40 ft., burrow 80 ft. (earth glide), fly 80 ft. (good) Melee bite +31 (2d8+15 plus 2d6 fire), gore +31 (2d8+15 plus 2d6 fire), 2 claws +31 (2d6+15/19-20 plus 2d6 fire), tail slap +29 (2d8+7 plus 2d6 fire plus grab) Ranged 2 lava bombs +18 touch (4d6 bludgeoning plus 2d6 fire) Space 20 ft.; Reach 20 ft. Special Attacks breath weapon (80 ft. cone, 20d6 fire, Ref DC 31), earth mastery, trample (2d8+22 plus 2d6 fire, DC 35)

Spell-like Abilities CL 19th, concentration +27 Constant—cloak of chaos (self only, DC 26) At will—chaos hammer (DC 22), scorching ray, stone shape 3/day—earthquake, empowered flame strike (DC 23), greater dispel magic, quickened wall of stone, word of chaos (DC 25) 1/day—clashing rocks (DC 27), repel metal or stone, wall of lava (DC 26)

Statistics Str 41, Dex 15, Con 32, Int 14, Wis27, Cha 26 Base Atk +20; CMB +39 (+41 bull rush, +43 grapple); CMD 55 (57 vs. bull rush, cannot be tripped) Feats Awesome Blow, Combat Reflexes, Empowered SLA (flame strike), Flyby Attack, Improved Bull Rush, Improved Critical (claw), Improved Initiative, Multiattack, Power Attack, Quicken SLA (wall of stone) Skills Bluff +29, Disguise +26, Fly +25, Intimidate +29, Knowledge (geography, planes) +23, Perception +31, Sense Motive +29, Survival +29 Languages Abyssal, Draconic, Ignan, Protean, Terran, telepathy 100 ft. SQ change shape (dragon or elemental, elemental shape IV or form of the dragon III), no breath 

Ecology Environment underground (Maelstrom) Organization solitary, pair or geoform (3-6) Treasure standard

Special Abilities Breath Weapon (Su) Any creature that takes damage from a renegwe’s breath weapon is coated in lava, taking 10d6 points of fire damage for the next 1d3 rounds (no save). Change Shape (Su) A renegwe can change shape at will, but does not gain the healing from changing shape as is typical for proteans. It can only assume the form of dragons or elementals with the earth or fire subtypes. Earth Mastery (Ex) When both a renegwe and its opponent are touching the ground, the renegwe gains a +1 bonus on attack and damage rolls. Fiery Body (Ex) A renegwe’s body is blazing hot. It deals 2d6 points of fire damage with all of its natural attacks, and any creature striking it with a melee touch attack, natural weapon or unarmed strike takes 2d6 points of fire damage. Lava Bombs (Su) As a standard action, a renegwe can fire two lava bombs, one from each hand. Each lava bomb is treated as a ranged touch attack with a range of 200 feet and no range incremenent. A creature struck takes 4d6 points of bludgeoning damage and 2d6 fire, and then the lava bomb explodes, dealing 10d6 points of fire damage in a 40 foot radius (Reflex DC 29 half). If a creature is in the radius of both lava bombs, it makes a single save at a -4 penalty, and treats the fire damage as coming from a single source. A renegwe can use its lava bombs once every 1d4 rounds. The save DC is Charisma based.

[dujour13]

Owlcatober 24. Footsteps

Fandom: Wrath of the Righteous

Some Act 4-5 game spoilers especially for Woljif. Riffing on the game dialogue in this scene and giving some key comebacks to Woljif because Sia's the charm but he's the brains.

Also on AO3

Despite the power of Elysium sublimating out of him like scintillating steam, Siavash couldn’t hide his trepidation as he raised his eyes up, and up further, to the massive iron gates of the Ineluctable Prison.

While in principle Woljif was always in favor of busting people out of the joint, that principle mostly only applied to himself, and not this joint: a fabled prison constructed by the Prince of Hell to contain a demon lord, a prison famous for being—well, ineluctable. He had a very bad feeling that if they set foot in this place they would become permanent fixtures. Like ol’ Torf. Every time they let the old orc out he’d walk right up to the Watch and commit a crime in their faces so they’d toss him back in. Not so bad in there, Torf would say. Free food. Friends. He never said which category the lice and rats belonged to.

But he digressed.

He wanted to say – “This guy dropped you like a sack a’ fire mephits just when you needed him the most. Just leave him. Besides, he’s an angel. He can handle it. Let Iomedae get him outta there.”

But he couldn’t forget the sound of the chief’s voice trying to rally the troops the night of the gargoyles—the voice he, Woljif, could hardly hear over the singing of the wind in his ears as he ran. Later he learned Siavash had received a near-fatal claw to the gut that night, and then he’d led the charge to the Lost Chapel without a wink of sleep, and Ember claimed he was so distraught he hardly laid a hand on his guitar for weeks after that.

Siavash had forgiven him and taken him back. And here Siavash stood at the massive gates of a prison where a friend who’d also betrayed him was being tortured, and he was not going to walk away.

That’s the chief for you. Woljif sighed.

“Please tell me we’re not standing here having a conversation with Baphomet.” Seelah set her shield on its edge and leaned on it. Radiance blazed at her hip, impatient for more demon blood.

They had arrived at the base of the stairs, rows of barred cells stretching out into the gloom on either side. A chandelier of skulls shed dim, blood-red light from overhead but the Merry Band glowed with wild Elysian power. Even as they stood facing the demon lord, tiny vines and flowers pushed up between the prison flagstones and wound themselves around the bars, gradually eroding the metal.

Keeping a wary distance from the possessed minotaur, Siavash shrugged and his wings shimmered. “I’m curious what he has to say.”

“You know he’ll only twist his lies around in your head until you can’t find your way out,” she protested, twirling her finger at her temple.

 “That’s just it.” Siavash knit his brows in thought. “He claims he freed himself from Asmodeus’ prison by destroying the very notion of imprisonment. I want to understand that.”

“I made the whole multiverse believe my lie,” came the deep, insinuating voice from the minotaur.

“But it’s still a lie,” said Siavash. “You’re not really free. You took Asmodeus’ prison with you to the Abyss and there you’re chained.”

“Yeah,” said Woljif, half-hiding behind Siavash but growing bolder. “I don't think you know what freedom means.”

“You who know so much about freedom,” sneered Baphomet, “tell me, how will you escape? How will you find your way through the tangled corridors of my labyrinth?”

Woljif gave him a smug smirk. “I been payin’ attention. You don’t find your way, you make it.”

This earned him a snort from the minotaur’s flared nostrils and a warm smile from the chief.

“Clever,” said Baphomet. “I may consider reeducating you, my spawn.”

“Ugh.”

“It is not I who is chained. It is my minions. My seed and spawn, chained by my will. We are one and the same, and as they roam freely, so do I.”

Behind him Woljif made a gagging noise, but Siavash wasn’t done. “You can’t hide behind your minions forever. We turned Minagho against you. Defeated Hepzamirah and Horzalah. Stamped out what was left of Ygefeles.”

“Yeah, about that,” Woljif piped up. “All your sp—ugh. Your minions ever do is stab each other in the back. I don’t reckon that’s workin’ out for you.”

“Only the strongest survive, you will see. Soon Golarion will be ruled by my mighty brood. I shall watch from my throne as your world drowns in blood.”

“I’m just trying to understand,” said Siavash. “What is it with domination and destruction? I don’t see the point.”

“Power,” said the minotaur. “You understand more than you claim. Don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean. You were given immense power, and what have you done with it? Spread its tendrils across the Worldwound and Mendev and beyond, worming its roots into Golarion and growing like mold. You have felt the exhilaration. Don’t deny it. How power begets power.”

“But power to do what? To rule over a wasteland and a prison? A bunch of spaw—minions trying to overthrow you? You freed yourself from Asmodeus’ ineluctable prison. With your wisdom, think what you could do.”

The minotaur let out a bellow of a laugh. “Attempting to beat me at my own game?”

“You really are trapped. From your prison cell all you can see is bleakness. Power for its own sake. Deception and destruction.”

“That’s right,” said Arueshalae. “Areshkagal’s riddles only led you deeper into a pit of lies and evil. Desna’s riddle led me out into the light of truth and goodness.”

“Yeah, you hear that, you old goat?” yelled Seelah triumphantly. “She escaped the Abyss and you bound yourself to it for eternity.”

“The only prison is the one between your stupid horns,” said Woljif.

The minotaur turned its bloodshot glare on him. “You are so like Ygefeles,” the demon lord chuckled. “I valued his shrewd mind and uncanny ability to lie, but though he was crafty and able, he lacked zeal and ardor. Alas Hepzamirah proved the stronger. If you had accepted his power you might have followed in my footsteps.”

“Yeah, right back into jail,” Woljif muttered.

Flames spilling from its eyes like tears, for a moment the minotaur silently surveyed him. “I don’t think you know how alike we are, mortal. A shame another of my promising spawn must die.”

[genshinimpactresources]

Genshin Impact | 5.3 Phase 1 Namecards

All Namecards

[sisididis]

Something that I love about Zuko’s journey is that, prior to him joining the Gaang to overthrow his father, he experiences these light-bulb moments that open his eyes to the horrors committed by the Fire Nation and erode his previous perception of the Fire Nation as this shining example for the rest of the world. One of these moments is the realization that he himself has been hurt by the Fire Nation. 

In ‘The Cave of Two Lovers’, the village healer notices Zuko’s scar and affirms “the Fire Nation has hurt you.” After Zuko evades her inquiring touch, the healer lifts her pant leg to expose the burn inflicted by a Fire Nation soldier. I can’t even begin to imagine how reassuring it must have been to hear an outsider validate the fact that, despite his privileged position as heir to the throne, Zuko had been hurt by his family. It is also important to mention that, up until that point, Zuko still blames himself for his banishment.

Then, in ‘The Crossroads of Destiny’, Katara confronts Zuko and blames his horribleness on the fact that he is the Fire Lord’s son. “Spreading war and violence and hatred is in your blood,” she concludes. When Zuko retorts “You don’t know what you’re talking about”, Katara brings up the greatest loss she suffered in the war — her mother’s death at the Fire Nation’s hands. 

Zuko’s response makes this one of my favourite scenes in the entire show. 

Sometimes, the realization that it is your own who have hurt you the most is the hardest to come to terms with. 

[endlessskymaster]

Of course, they're going with the show don't tell approach towards the Traveler's ancient name.

[maccaronimassacre]

Resident Evil bot dump #4

I was originally planning on posting these after C.ai fixed their user interaction bug but considering its almost been a whole month since the bug first appeared and they still haven't fixed it I simply caved in. On another note though, one of my Ethan bots has hit over 130k interactions which is insane! I appreciate the support and I'll try my best to keep those bots coming. Feel free to make requests for any bot ideas you have <3

STARS!Chris Redfield x Reader

Chris quickly ushers you inside the S.T.A.R.S office, shoving you inside before barricading the door with a metal cabinet. “Jesus that was close!” Chris exclaims while resting his back against the cabinet's frame to catch his breath. You can hear the licker’s claws scratch and tear at the door before it lets out a growl in frustration and stalks away. It looks like you can relax. For now anyway…

STARS!Chris Redfield x Reader

The only noises that can be heard in the Spencer Mansion are your footsteps and the occasional creaks and groans of the hardwood floors underfoot. With the serum for the snake poison in hand, you can only pray that you make it back to Chris in time to cure him. Eventually you find yourself back at the intersecting hallway where Chris’ unconscious form lies. He is sweating and breathing heavily, the bite wound on his forearm now swollen and red with irritation.

Chris Redfield x Reader

When you asked Chris for some tips on how to improve your aim you were expecting a couple of pointers or maybe a demonstration. Instead, Chris has his arms around your body with one arm on your waist and the other under your elbow, gently guiding it up with his hand. His chest is pressed up tightly against your back and you can feel his breath roll against your ear in hot steady waves. “There we go, that’s better. Now aim and fire, {{user}}”.

IT!Ethan x Reader

What is supposed to be a normal day at the office has already turned into a nightmare when your computer just so happens to stop functioning. Fortunately for you, a member of the IT department walks over to your cubicle and lets out a heavy sigh when he looks at your screen. “So have you tried turning it on and off again?” He asks with minimal enthusiasm and a slight hint of sarcasm while adjusting the cuffs of his shirt.

Ethan Winters x Reader

“You got all that, babe?” Your partner Ethan asks, glancing over to you before shifting his eyes back onto the road ahead. He was just rambling about the itinerary for today and has been looking forward to spending some more time with you and Rose. He figured that a day out to an amusement park would be the perfect way to kick back and have fun. Rose seems to be quite excited too with the way she is bouncing enthusiastically in the car seat, holding her monkey plushie tightly.

Dead!Ethan Winters x Dead!Reader

What happens after we die? Some say heaven, other say it’s an endless abyss. Yet you stand here in the midst of a frozen and desolate landscape. In the distance there is a man who stands alone, quietly staring off into space with glassy red rimmed eyes in deep contemplation. His left hand looks like it’s been eroded away, almost as if he’s made out of stone. “You are part of the mutamycete.” Despite his voice being a quiet whisper, you can hear the slight tremble in his words.

Fifth Lord!Ethan Winters x Reader

Before you stands the man Mother Miranda declared to be the fifth lord of the village. He steps towards you with black raven wings flapping behind him before folding back up into his body. “Who are you, and what is your purpose here?” The man’s voice is low and holds no hint of emotion. He dons red eyes with yellow pupils that pierce straight through your soul as if he’s judging you. Waiting for you to speak.

Leon Kennedy x Officer!Reader

With Leon Kennedy joining the Raccoon City Police Department, Lieutenant Branagh figured you’d be the right officer for the job of welcoming and showing Leon around the city. And that’s how you’ve ended up here, casually patrolling the bustling streets of Raccoon with the blonde rookie in tow who currently is nose deep in a tourist pamphlet about the Arklay County. His eyes are filled with intrigue as he reads about the city’s rich history.

Dead by Daylight!Leon x Reader

A heavy fog rolls over the forest, submerging you in complete darkness. One minute you were in the middle of the woods, the next you find yourself by a large campfire that illuminates your new and unfamiliar surroundings. A variety of strangers sit by the heatless flames, bloodied and bruised yet waiting for something. Something to happen maybe? One of them looks up at you, a man with dirty blonde hair and sapphire eyes flashes you a warm grin and pats the space on the log next to him.

Resident Evil Bot Masterlist

[steelandfrost]

setting: the king's winter ball, edrick bolton spots an old presence at court, and moves in to discuss the changing political stances in the north; starter for @wintervsuns

context: edrick is a staunch believer and vocal supporter of the true north movement, and he knows if he could get brandon karstark to firmly take a side, a lot more support would follow behind the lord of karhold.

the grand hall of winterfell was alive with the soft murmur of conversation, the clink of goblets, and the crackle of the roaring hearth at its center. snow swirled beyond the high windows, a reminder of the north’s relentless hold, but within, the air was warm and heavy, a mixture of anticipation and tension. the winter ball was meant to unify, but the fractures beneath the surface of the north’s unity were visible in every guarded glance and hushed whisper.

the lord of the dreadfort stood near the edge of the hall, his dark eyes scanning the crowd. his expression was as unreadable as ever, though his mind was anything but still. the idea of the “eight in the north” hung over the evening like a storm cloud, a suggestion that seemed to him both insulting and dangerously divisive. southern influences already pressed too heavily upon the north, threatening to erode its identity piece by piece.

he spotted brandon karstark near the far end of the room, a solitary figure in the midst of Winterfell’s grandeur. there was an unshakable strength in the man’s bearing, but also a distance—karhold had been quiet of late, its lord rarely seen at court, no doubt due to the tragedies that befell him not long ago. that distance, edrick knew, would be a challenge to bridge.

gathering himself, edrick made his way through the crowd, pausing only to exchange brief pleasantries with those who stopped him. when he reached brandon, he inclined his head in a measured greeting, his voice low and even.

“lord karstark,” he began, his tone cordial but deliberate. “it’s good to see you at winterfell again. it’s been some time.” he gestured subtly toward the swirling crowd. "i trust the journey from karhold wasn’t too arduous?”

he glanced toward the fire, as though to give the other the space to respond. subtlety was key here; there was no need to rush. some conversations required patience, and edrick had every intention of ensuring this one began on steady ground, even if the other man likely saw right through his endeavors.