#and rune is holding a crown

[tchaikovskym]

I have to admit I never even imagined witches to be evil until I came here on tumblr and read some of y'alls analysis of literature and other media. The whole evil laugh and brewing potions did not connect to being evil in my mind ever. I was just raised with everyone around me thinking witches were cool as hell.

[wordslikesilver]

I swear I’m almost done being mentally ill about Elden Ring I promise but I never see anyone talk about Morgott’s heart wrenching death scene. It’s never overtly pointed out but please imagine the progression of events from his perspective. Lying on his back, staring up at the sky, defeated. He’s one of the ONLY bosses that leaves behind a corpse and it’s heart wrenching okay, it’s OBLITERATING. Because he’s lying there withered and broken, staring up at the golden boughs of the one thing in the world he loved, not the golden order, not the greater will, he loved the Erdtree and dedicated his ENTIRE life to it even though it never loved him back because not even a man as scorned as Morgott could live without love and the love was to keep his heart still beating in his chest when he felt most like a monster. He has spent his entire life keeping this crumbling kingdom together. For his mother, who hid him away so the world wouldn’t hurt him, for his father, the man who taught him how to bear the weight of a crown and stand taller than the ignoble origins you come from. And he was so alone. The only constant in his life being that golden tree that shone down into the sewers. He is the last of all kings. The horns about his brow weighed heavier than his crown.

And then the tree was burning. Lying broken on the ground, unable to truly die, his curse expelled from his body, he could only look up and watch the only thing he loved with all his heart burn down around him. The ashes falling like snow on his face. Can you imagine the heat? The resignation? The misery and the promise that if there’s ever a next time, he’ll do better, and if there isn’t then this shall be his final legacy and he’ll just have to accept that final truth before he dies. The self hatred washing over him and passing into quiet peace as he chooses to pass away together with it. Omens do not get reincarnated by the Erdtree. Loved and blessed by the crucible of life, they are not loved the same as all the rest of us. But that’s okay. For Morgott, that was okay. He would live nobly and die with honour in its service and that would be enough. He’d spend the last moments of his life bathed in the warm ashes of orange and grey, content that even if he never felt loved by anyone at all after being cursed and shunned all his life, he did his duty as best he could and finally repaid the debt he felt towards the tree that showed him the light for so many long, lonely years.

And then, then it makes me so fucking miserable because then a pair of gentle, scarred and terribly rough hands lift him up from the ground and cradle him with all the tenderness in the world. The roar of a lion salutes his passing, honouring him, mourning him. “It’s been a long time, Morgott.” No anger, no disappointment. Simply, sadness, that he could not see you sooner. Godfrey, his father, returned at last to hold him one final time as he passes away, the rune of death now unbound and finding its way to Morgott after all this time. His last memory would be of being held by his father, loved for all that he is in the ashes of all that he dedicated his life to. His body fades, his entire world upheaved one final time, and an easily missed detail in the cutscene is that Morgott’s body becomes a Grace that points towards you, the player, to guide his father to his next step along the path of Lordship. One final time, Godfrey is guided by the unyielding love he feels for one of his children. Fuck it makes me so miserable. How do write something so tragic and not spend more time with it? How do you leave that beauty hidden in the details like it’s not one of the greatest moments of the entire game? It’s so quiet it’s private, almost. Like we’re not supposed to see that side of either of them, being such an outsider. It’s sundering to think about. Annihilating. I love it with all my heart and I hope more people love Morgott too after reading this.

[ardenzia777]

give us the bible art oooooo

I've drawn these that i can show atm. the last 2 aren't done ngl but that's ok, they're still at least presentable Explanation of each piece below owo

first one was an idea of like a really peaceful Jesus holding a lamb and just a heavenly setting around, very old school, very renaissance, but wanted to be unique and make his halo a white hole that cascaded out stained glass light. Pearls to represent purity and Sapphire in his crown to signify the sapphire throne

second one was a sketch i put some more detail on, i just wanted it to show the somberness of a well aware sacrifice. unironically wanted it to feel demure. feel both dark and light. the dampness in the air before and after the rain. wanted to add black stars as well to show a hidden/veiled divinity. King of kings but is veiled in mortal flesh, appearing more grounded in our world than he really is. also was making connotations with wine and his blood as well.

third one i wanted to really pull inspo from Elden ring and take its symbolism into different context but the same context, which was inspired by how Elden ring does the same thing with Christianity. The symbolism of Marika crucified was for sure meant to be a reference to Christ, so i wanted to depict him crucified but with Marika's rune. Both crucified by their authority, and technically both done for the sake of saving the world. difference is one did it willingly to save those unaware of their burden, the other went unwillingly, likely kicking and glaring. I wanted to switch the crown of thorns for a crown of shattered runes. both still make you bleed, but i loved how runes represent power and strength, and how that could tie in to the symbolism of the crown of thorns, still being a crown. a sign of power. added some other crucifixes of the Elden ring style to represent the many others who have died before, though his is above them all, for he was the greatest sacrifice. Lastly wanted the view to shift from a broken battleground of the world, covered in the shattered runes of so many hurt people's suffering, to the boundless skies of the awaiting paradise. symbolism of Jesus sitting on his cross in anguish, but keeping his eyes on the future he was doing this all for. Bonus: made his cloth covering also swirl like Marika's, but for the effect of giving him a halo. This piece still isn't done, i'm excited to work more on it later.

PS: i know he was impaled through his wrists, i'm considering changing it to be more proper, but i also liked the hands look, but idk, we'll see Anywho ahhh, hope you like em owo

[raayllum]

ALRIGHT, time to talk about the poster in lovely HD.

First things first, I want to talk about these two ladies (?). The upper one closer to the moon looks more like an elf, and is gazing down at the second, closer woman. I've seen people speculate Ziard due to the hair, but none of this usual clothing appendages are there, so I lean towards a new character, and possibly being the human Aaravos had a special connection to. We see what looks like the arches of the Moon Nexus framed behind them, which was the case both when Rayla went through the portal in TTM and when Lujanne used historia viventum to show Callum the way things looked before. Souls of hate and love, maybe?

We see other Moon symbols throughout the posture sure as archangel lunarises, which seek out Moon magic (1x01) and can be used in illusion spells (2x03, 3x09). We also see the enchanted lotuses from 3x03, though for what purpose is unclear (more on that later).

Moving down, we have a fully celestial, quite happy Aaravos. He's in full flourish and clearly using Moon magic for someone, as begetting the moon behind him, though whether he's constructing lotuses or channeling energy into his Key (perhaps making it able to sense Moon magic) is unknown. While the lotuses in 3x03 were occasionally different colours, the deep purple here makes me think of dark magic. If he is channeling his cube, perhaps he's taking moon energy from the lotuses (or moths) surrounding him to put inside.

I don't think I need to scream much further than I already have about the Moon rune glowing on his Key and having it displayed with his usual star symbol (rune cube foreshadowing symbolism my beloved). This bodes well for theories in which 1) Callum goes too far and does something knowingly risky to free the Moon fam for Rayla's sake or 2) does something risky to help Aaravos to protect Rayla's life, each subsequently to being possessed and/or playing into Aaravos' hands. Thank you goodnight.

Then we have the book, which is deeply fascinating. It seems like a very Moon book, the fragments framing it similar to the ones we see on the lotuses and possibly evoking one of the archangel lunaris' flying around. It wouldn't surprise me if the book contains a variant of Deep moon magic of some kind, whatever that would look like. The crescent curved moon is also similar to the symbol we see on Aaravos' poem page for the Midnight Star in show (2x08). I do wonder why each side of the book looks so different though, with no actual visible moon in sight besides the tiny gemstones and the crescent moon, the other side being entirely dark (which, to be fair, is pretty moon-y).

We also sort of but don't quite see Aaravos' famous chest piece, though it is a-glowing. Whether it glowed all the time pre-Fall we just don't know, as the only time we've seen it glow/be filled in is 2x09 when he's channeling magic through Viren, but who knows. It does mean that the cube is even older than his banishment and that if it does hold his chest piece, it was placed after (if it's tangible at all, which has always been one of the biggest questions).

This is perhaps the weirdest thing that I am the most interested in, as alongside his crown and bangles, this is the biggest design difference between Aaravos in-show and out. In show, both in his mirror and even 'pre-Fall' (aka the timeline for the 1x01 shot is probably a lie anyway), Aaravos' hip thingy is a lot more simplistic.

However, Aaravos does have all his flowery (and I mean that literally, it looks like petals) adornment in his concept art.

The fact they have a lotus flower flair to them always felt interesting but ultimately like a coincidence, but perhaps not. Either way as pictured below, it seems like he's either constructing or dismantling the lotuses, which is Eyes Emoji either way.

The most... surely metaphorical / abstract portion of the poster, though, is I'd imagine the very bottom. I hesitate to read into things too literally (one of the S5 posters had Finnegrin's ship being blasted with lightning and Domina watching the waves, and while she featured in the season and played a role in Finnegrin's aims, the scene itself as portrayed did not come fully to fruition) so I'm gonna go with a more symbolic read, just as as disclaimer.

Lastly we have these two figures. I'm assuming the one in white is an elf and betting on young Aaravos or Leola, though it could be someone else connected to the Moon arcanum (the elven daughter who vouched for exiling rather than eliminating humanity?). The red and black shadow figure feels far more sinister (blood and stardust, anyone) but if you lighten the shadows, you get something even more... interesting, shall we say.

Rather than standing up straight, this figure almost seems to swoop down with a draconic like claw and a face that reminds me the most of Sir Sparklepuff's features, honestly, perhaps boasting a similar kind of blood (Viren's) and star (Aaravos) and dark magic (the staff?). It is also clearly moving toward the more humanoid figure on the bottom right, which gives a "corruption is reaching / coming for / offering things to you" sort of vibe.

[redheadwannabesblog]

Hinny Sunlit Days: HBP missing scene

In the days following the now-famous Common Room kiss, Harry spent every spare moment with Ginny, but with exams nearing, most days were spent studying on the grounds with her and Luna. Luna was making a flower crown, and Neville had joined them in the shade.

Ginny was studying for Ancient Runes while Harry was studying the way her hair shined in the sunlight and how it fell down her shoulder, happy to be near her openly.

Ginny looked up from her textbook at Neville.

“You know, Nev, you might be less distracted if you talked to Hannah instead of just staring.”

“I don’t know what you’re on about,” Neville retorted. “I’m just looking at my Charms work.”

“Your book is upside down.”

Neville started to turn it before realizing she’d been kidding.

“Just go ask her out. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“She could say no and laugh at me. Who wouldn’t?”

“I didn’t,” Ginny said.

Harry stiffened. When had Neville and Ginny gone out?

“You only went to the ball with me as friends and because you wouldn’t have been able to go otherwise,” Neville said. Harry relaxed, realizing that’s what she meant.

“That’s not true. I was asked by someone else and turned them down.”

Neville looked surprised. “I didn’t know that.”

“You’re smart, funny, and kind. We had a great time, and now you’re one of my best mates. And you are brave, you’ve faced death eaters, you can ask out a girl. Now go talk to Hannah.”

Neville nodded, stood up, and walked across the courtyard.

Harry kissed Ginny’s shoulder. “You never said someone else had asked you,” he said, trying to sound teasing.

She blushed slightly. “I was holding out hope that this boy I fancied would ask, but I heard he asked another girl, so I moved on.” Her ears turned pink.

Harry slid his arms around her and whispered, “I was an idiot. I should’ve asked you.”

“What makes you think it was you I was hoping for?” She smirked.

Harry rolled his eyes.

Ginny leaned into him“It’s good you didn’t ask me. I prefer to be able to talk with the people I’m with.”

Harry kissed her cheek. “So, who was this other bloke?”

“I’m not telling,” she said, pulling back her textbook.

“Was it Zacharias?” Luna asked dreamily.

Harry jumped, having forgotten Luna was with them.

Ginny’s gaze shot over to her. “How did you know?”

“Smith?!?” Harry said indignantly.

Luna continued braiding. “I thought his rejection might explain why he doesn’t like you much, but still pesters you all the time. You’re likable, so there must have been a reason.”

Luna handed Ginny the flower crown.

Ginny beamed and put it on. “Thank you, Luna!”

Luna smiled. “Oh, look, it seems to have gone well with Hannah.” Neville was now sitting with Hannah, both smiling widely.

Harry leaned over, kissed Ginny’s cheek again, and whispered, “Luna is right; you are very likable.”

[art-from-within]

Radagon probably had the biggest “I could never be better than first elden lord” thoughts everyday marika let him swap bodies. Like think abt it. He becomes elden lord, but every one is still. BITCHINg about motherfucking GODFREY. The FIRST ELDEN CHAD. GET IT RADAGON. FIRST ELDEN C H A D. Even Miriel is confused as to how he came abt right? Like yea he was a champion…but the successor to the legend GODFREY? GOD in his name Godfrey? Ehhhhhhhhh you know the ER denizens was shitting tears everytime he walked anywhere. Betting u 100 mil runes ppl were crying abt Godfrey’s exile during his own crowning ceremony

Godfrey is so seductively astonishing in his bearing that he gets passes Radagon can only dream of. Godfrey is tarnished? Dgaf he is top tier. Godfrey grafts? (Serosh) what a madlad. Godfrey wants to genocide so bad he needs a beast to hold him back? That’s what makes him soooo cool. Then comes unkown radagon and all the colosseum fun leaves with Godfrey. And what does Radagon do? What is he cool with? “Magic maths (golden order fudamentalism)” oh. A fucking nerd.

Man becomes concious, right infront of him is a big Godfrey portrait that some dumbass stuck up. Marika probably has wet dreams about Godfrey still. Loud omens (ahem morgott ahem) singing abt Godfrey from the shunning grounds. Serosh symbol everywhere. People don’t remember seconds…they remember firsts. And its quite obvious the lands between still remembers. You have got godrick and his bannermen, well yea makes sense he is his descendant right? Then explain starscourge Radahn having more lions covering his body than red hair cells. Ranni probably hates his guts. Rykard resorts to blasphemy (also probably hates his guts.) Atleast he had malenia and miquella…for a while atleast until Miquella said “your maths aren’t mathing enough” and left him….

sucks to be radagon. But hey, he gets to selfcest atleast. Except Marika fucking hates his guts too because they are polar opposites.

“Hey babe-“

“LEAL hound of the GoLdEn OrDeR”

“Yea….(turns off)”

[littlemourningstarr]

Crown of Fangs

Gale and Halsin give Astarion a gift- the chance to fall in love with himself, truly.

Kinktober 2024, Day 10: "Mirror Sex"

Read below or on AO3!

Pairing: Astarion x Gale x Halsin

Tags: Magic mirror, blowjobs, angst, fluff, kinktober, kinktober 2024

“I cannot fathom what could be so exciting,” Astarion mumbled, as he followed Gale through the wizard’s tower, Halsin keeping in step right behind him. He had been quite enjoying a little cat nap on the wizard’s overly luxurious bed when his lovers had awoken him so urgently, insisting he needed to see something at once.

For a moment he’d thought someone had stolen the Crown of Karsus and it was the tadpoles all over again, with how urgently they had roused and pulled him from the bed.

Astarion stumbled into one of Gale’s many trinket rooms- honestly, he had claimed his tower had never been cleaner than when he needed to feed the Netherese Orb, but Astarion couldn’t fathom how there was still so much stuff cluttered about.

Astarion noted that the large window in the room had been fully covered, the heavy curtains Gale had placed up for Astarion’s safety all about the tower blocking any of the sunlight. It sent a tingle of warmth through him, at the thoughtfulness- but also a melancholy that coiled in his gut like black bile.

Oh, the sun. His lost love.

Gale stopped next to a large object, a bit taller than the wizard himself, grinning like a fool. His fool, their fool. But oh, still a silly little wizardly fool.

Whatever it was, it was covered in a large cloth. Astarion folded his arms, looking at it almost bored. Gale snapped his fingers, lighting the many scones along the walls, a few large candles, before he grasped the cloth, whipping it off dramatically.

It was just a mirror.

The vampire frowned, as behind him Halsin placed his hands on his shoulders, squeezed affectionately. All the reflection showed was the druid standing along, holding onto a phantom that might have never truly existed.

“And?” Astarion asked, as if there should be more. Surely they hadn’t dragged him from a nice warm bed to show him a mirror when he didn’t even have a bloody reflection! “You seem to have gone deft, Gale. May I remind you that in my vampiric excellence I seem to have misplaced my reflection.”

He didn’t mean for his tone to be as sardonic as it was, but he didn’t like the reminder that he hadn’t seen his own face in over two centuries. Didn’t like how easy it was to envision Halsin as he was, behind Astarion, without the vampire there. Like he could be plucked from their little realm of existence and it simply wouldn’t matter.

“Oh, it’s more than just a mirror.” Gale reached behind it, plucking a piece of paper that had been slipped into one of the panels at the back. The parchment was old, ancient- Astarion could smell the years on it, even from where he stood. “It’s a magic mirror.”

Astarion just stared. “And why should I care?”

Gale cleared his throat, before he began reading from the paper. They were words Astarion didn’t know- a tongue he didn’t recognize. But the words came easy enough for Gale, each annunciation clear. Astarion noticed that the gold framing of the mirror had small etchings all along it- runes that lit up a brilliant purple, as Gale spoke. The glass itself shimmered, rippling like a chrome ocean-

Until Gale stopped speaking. It settled, and suddenly Halsin wasn’t alone in the reflection.

Astarion stared for a moment, mind unable to reconcile what he was seeing. Because it was… him. It had to be. He moved in quick strides to the mirror, pressed his fingertips to it, over his cheekbones. His face- that was his face!

He dragged a finger down his cheek, stared into his own sanguine eyes for the first time ever. He had expected them to be infernal like, a shade like flame- but they were deep, dark like heartblood, glimmering like actual gems. They were beautiful.

“How…” he whispered, feeling almost lightheaded. He felt Halsin’s heat behind him again, the druid hooking an arm around his waist, steadying him. Gods, had he been swaying on his feet?

Gale beamed. “Why, magic of course.”

“I could strangle you,” Astarion whispered, before he leaned for Gale, reached out and grasped his shirt, pulling him forward and smacking a very enthusiastic kiss to his mouth instead. The wizard fell into it with such an ease, ever eager for the touch of affection, as they all were.

When Astarion pulled back, he noticed the mirror’s runes had stopped glowing. The reflection, once again, was only Halsin.

“I, uhm,” Gale cleared his throat. “I have to concentrate to ensure the spell stays active.”

Astarion snorted a laugh, high pitched, litting, loving the flush on Gale’s cheeks. “Am I that distracting darling?” Still, he leaned back into Halsin instead, who had been so stoically silent this far it was almost as if he was made of stone.

Gale read the incantation again, and Astarion watched himself slowly appear. Yes, those were the same wild curls he would see every morning, upon waking. Yes, the same cheekbones- sculpted quite well, he was proud to admit. The same dark circles under his eyes that he had never been able to chase away.

He opened his mouth slightly, and for the first time, saw the points of his fangs. They were… magnificent. He hadn’t expected to feel his own heart skip a beat, but they complimented the sharp contours of his face. They made him look fierce, yet regal.

“What do you see?” Halsin finally asked, words steady, pitched low.

Astarion hesitated, unsure exactly how to answer. Did he gush about his own features, lost to time for what he thought eternity? Did he speak about how his eyes were a cunning beauty he hadn’t expected- that his fangs reminded him of a crown, adorning the head of countless kings?

Instead, rather softly, he offered, “myself.”

He felt Halsin kiss his hair. “You see what Gale and I see, everyday.” One of his hands slid up Astarion’s belly, over his chest, moved to splay on his neck, keep his chin angled up slightly. For the first time, Astarion could see how large the elf’s hand was, against his throat.

He should be terrified. Yet, he had never felt safer.

“You see how beautiful you are.”

Astarion flushed, just slightly. A tinge of pink along his porcelain cheeks- and oh, he looked like a doll. Like porcelain and glass held in the hand of a man who could crush him within a breath.

He fidgeted, slightly, his breaths coming a bit faster. Why was he enjoying getting to see Halsin touch him so much?

Gale was watching, he was aware of the wizard’s blackfire eyes, never leaving him. He glanced over at the wizard, and Gale was smiling. It was only then he noticed that there were the finest purple tendrils, in the air, stretching from the runes along the mirror to Gale’s lips, his fingertips. A physical showing of his concentration.

Astarion glanced back at the mirror, and whispered so softly it was almost inaudible, “take me.”

Halsin’s thumb, which had been stroking where his pulse would be, paused. He felt the druid shift a bit, so that Astarion could press back to his bulk, fit against him perfectly. He expected one of his lovers to protest- but all Halsin asked was, “Is that what you want?”

Astarion nodded. He watched himself nod, watching himself consent. Gods, why did he look powerful even when he was held like this- admitting what he wanted, with the ability to say no?

Halsin’s hand moved from his throat, back down his chest, plucked his shirt from where it was tucked into his pants. Then he released Astarion, spun him around so he was facing his druid, so Halsin could grasp the clothing, guide it up over Astarion’s torso. It was tossed aside, before Astarion was pulled to Halsin’s overly warm chest, hands grasping at his sides as Halsin bowed his head, lavished kisses along his neck. Astarion gave a little moan, craned his neck so Halsin could access every bit of skin- caught sight of Gale, watching, this pleased smile on his face, all while his eyes burned.

Astarion glanced a bit further, as Halsin reached the crook of his neck- and for the first time, saw the scars all along his back. Gods, the contract was massive- even if he had felt it, under his fingertips countless times, it had never truly registered how much of him had been turned into a canvas, into cheap parchment for a sad little deal with a devil.

He must have tensed, because suddenly Halsin’s hand was splayed on his back, in the center of the contract, fingers flexing as he gripped Astarion’s skin tenderly.

“Even this,” Halsin murmured, “is beautiful.”

“Every scar is,” Gale offered, daring to speak. “Every inch, Astarion.”

He wanted to retort that of course every inch of him was beautiful, he was elegantly, godly- but the words never even clawed up his throat. 

He let Halsin turn him to face the mirror again, was more than happy to relax back against his broad chest as he undid his pants, slipped his hand in. Astarion bit his lip, watched the motion of his lover’s hand, within his clothing, as he grasped and rubbed at his cock. Behind him, he could feel Halsin’s pressing against his ass- a reminder that the druid was so easy to want him, want Gale- all it took was their permission.

Halsin freed him carefully, stroking slowly. Astarion had seen his own cock before- gods, he just had to look down- but something about the angle, seeing Halsin’s hand overtake him like this- it was making him dizzy.

 His knees might have fully buckled, if Halsin’s other arm wasn’t around his waist, holding him up. But his druid had him, as Astarion tipped his head back, breaking away from staring at himself and Halsin to enjoy just the feeling.

“I do enjoy when his knees get weak,” Gale mused. “Perhaps you should lay him down, Halsin?”

Halsin rumbled a groan in a very pleased response, and Astarion was turned away from the mirror, swept up into Halsin’s arms as the man got on his knees. He laid Astarion out like he might tear, shatter, dissipate, and took the time to fully remove the rest of his clothes. Astarion tipped his head back- caught sight of Halsin looming over him, peppering kisses along his shoulder, down over his collarbone-

Pausing to flick his tongue against one nipple. Astarion bit his lip, a single fang poking out- and oh, that was the expression that Gale and Halsin insisted was cute, wasn’t it?

Maybe it was.

Halsin sealed his mouth over the bud, sucking, and Astarion arched, moaned, hands splayed on the cold floor. He flicked his eyes away from the mirror, caught Gale staring down at him.

Astarion reached for him, wished he could touch, could see what it might look like to have both men offering up their affection, their love in unison. Gale smiled, his eyes going soft.

“If I touch you,” he admitted, “my concentration won’t hold. You’re too distracting, my love.”

Astarion whined, but let his arm fall back to the ground. If Gale was content to watch so he could hold the magic, so be it. He’d accept the gift.

He moved his eyes back to the mirror, not caring that everything was upside down as he glanced up at it, watching Halsin trail kisses over the hollow of his ribs, down his belly- and then pressing one to his slick cockhead. Astarion gasped, trembled, and then watched the druid take him into his mouth, down to the hilt without so much as a squirm, his mouth the sort of heat that should have hurt, should have shattered Astarion like glass.

His mouth fell open, breaths coming in pants now. He didn’t bother trying to stave off the pleasure coiling in his belly, the heat radiating into the cracks of his vertebrae. He had long since learned that if his pleasure wanted to crest within minutes of his lovers touching him- it was allowed. He could feel good for as long, or short, as he needed. As many times as he needed.

He watched, in the mirror, as his mouth fell open, as his eyes squinted so that everything was framed in his silver lashes, as he arched and writhed and breathed out Halsin’s name, his orgasm sliding under his skin like steam, like smoke, filling him and making him feel light, unburdened.

He sagged against the floor, finally staring up at the ceiling, unable to crane his neck to continue looking at the mirror. Halsin had pulled from his cock, was peppering soft little kisses along his thighs, rough fingers gently massaging the muscles there.

Astarion heard Gale’s footsteps, before the wizard settled down on the floor with him, leaned over him, blocking out the room in a veil of his brown and silver hair. Astarion didn’t see a hint of the weave, connecting Gale to the mirror, and assumed he had dropped his concentration.

He reached up, dragged his chilled fingertips along Gale’s cheek, the scratch of his beard such a known comfort now. As the wizard smiled at him, Astarion said the only thing he could think to offer- something he said woefully selfdom, he was sure.

“Thank you.”

[fritzes]

Toronto 2023 aka one of the most bizarre tournaments of the entire season

Even Daniil winning Rome has nothing on this chaos:

First, let us take a look at some of the seeds in this tournament. Casper Ruud is the third seed, having just flopped his way through the entirety of grass season and getting bageled in the final of a clay 250. Fourth and fifth seeds are Stefanos Tsitsipas and Holger Rune - we'll get to them later. The tenth seed is Félix Auger-Aliassime, who has only managed to hold onto his spot because most of his points are from the end of the season. For reasons inexplicable to me, Cameron Norrie is the eleventh seed. Borna Coric, holding on to his Cincinnati points, is the fourteenth seed.

In round one, lucky loser Vukic immediately upsets Coric 6-2 6-3. Qualifier Purcell takes out FAA 6-4 6-4. Milos Raonic, given a wildcard into his home tournament, beats tenth seed Frances Tiafoe in a tight match in which there was a ton of drama about what areas of the net it is acceptable to touch and win a point. Speaking of Canadian wildcards, Diallo beats Evans, who had just won Washington the week before. And finally, Alex de Minaur (we'll be seeing a lot of him) beats Norrie in a comfortable 7-5 6-4.

In round two, the top seeds come in and a lot of them immediately head out. Fifth seed Holger Rune, about to enter a massive flop era, loses to qualifier Giron in three sets. Tsitsipas gets crushed by Monfils 6-4 6-3. Vukic continues his run by beating Korda in an extremely close match. With the exact same scoreline as Tsitsipas, sixth seed Andrey Rublev loses to McDonald. Thirteenth seed Zverev is utterly destroyed by Davidovich Fokina 6-1 6-2.

Now into the third round, newly crowned Wimbledon champion Carlos Alcaraz loses the first set to Hubi Hurkacz. And, in true Hurkacz fashion, the next two sets go to tiebreaks, both of which Carlos wins handily. Vukic's crazy run is finally ended by Monfils. And Davidovich Fokina continues to show no mercy to top seeds as he takes out Casper. Now, it seems like Alex de Minaur is down and out, seeing as he is down 1-5 against eighth seed Taylor Fritz. But then he wins a game. And then another. And then another. Yes, he somehow manages to win the set and ends up breadsticking Fritz to win the match.

So into the quarterfinals we go. Carlos Alcaraz's streak, starting all the way at Queen's Club, comes to an end as he loses to the inconsistent roller coaster of a player that is Tommy Paul. Davidovich Fokina just keeps winning and beats McDonald 6-4 6-2. And again, it seems like Alex is done for, down 2-5 against Daniil Medvedev. But what do you know: he wins a game. And another. And another. Alex de Minaur does it again and wins the match in straight sets.

In the semifinals, he keeps his momentum going and beats Davidovich Fokina 6-1 6-3. Amidst all this chaos, Alex de Minaur has pulled off numerous feats of excellence and is surely on his way to a title.

But there's one top seed left.

To say that Jannik Sinner cruised through this tournament is almost an understatement. He only lost one set, and he was gifted a walkover in the third round. Tommy Paul, who just beat Alcaraz? Jannik beats him handily, 6-4 6-4.

Alex's reward for his incredible run is a final against someone he is 0-4 against, an in the near future would be 0-7 against.

Before his miracle run ever sprang from that fateful bin, Jannik Sinner emerged from this insane tournament as the winner. And a few months later, it paled in comparison to everything he would do next.

[kiko---random-stuff-probably]

Family reunion

Heavily inspired by @myballsitchaurghouchie

Cotl october day 29: claws

There was no other way.

Shamura kept repiting that as a mantra inside their mind the whole time they prepared their betrayal, as they convinced their siblings that banishing Narinder was the only way.

And it was realy the only other one.

Killing him was out of question. It just wasn't possible, from a pratical point of view.

They prepared everything, every detail, every rune, every single part of the ritual.

And yet they forgot something vital: Narinder was a good fighter.

- You want to bind me to my own domain? Fine, then; I will take you to the afterlife with me.-

As some followers hided themselves behind the pillars or run towards the temple's door, Leshy was screaming.

Crying, even.

It was understandable: his brother just slashed his face, blinding him. And it was no accident, as it was demonstated by the intact eyebal that Narinder was holding in his hand.

But still, Shamura didn't even bother to turn towards their youngest brother, refusing to look away from their objective.

- Leshy, sit against the wall. You are of no use in this condition.- their voice sounded way more cod than it needed to.

Leshy didn't manage to say anything, still sbbing from pain and fear, as his crown was trying to keep him from bleeding out.

Kallamar stared at them with disbelief, before quickly running towards Leshy and helping him get out of the way.

Narinder laughed, letting the eye fall on the ground.

- How cold, Shamura. But not unexpected from someone like you. Truly, a great general. Too bad I can't say the same thing about your role as a sibling.-

Shamura didn't give any sign of hearing him, unlike Heket.

- You have no right of speaking to them like that, you traitor!- she quickly charged at him, closing the distance and quickly making it a strictly physical confrontation.

Bad idea.

- Traitor? Ah! As if I did anything that made me worthy of that title!-

- We accepted you, treated you as a brother, and yet, look at everything you did! Look at Leshy! You were always a greedy bastard, and you were going to let us die just because of you damned lust for power!-

Narinder stared at her for a second, before putting his hands around her throat.

- Letting you die? Oh, no, I'm not that patient.-

He tore it apart.

Heket let the cat go, as she tried to stop the ichor from wound with her bare hands, gasping for air.

She stared with hate at Narinder, and then glanced at Shamura.

War started walking around the sigil, trying to find a good spot for their attack.

Narinder charged at Heket, but Kallamar managed to push her away, before hitting the cat with his staff.

- Please, we can try to talk it out.- as the cat quicky stood up, the squid took a step back, trembling.

- Fine. Let's talk.-

Narinder grabbed his older brother ears, tearing them off with a singular movement.

- You never were good at direct confrontations, were you? Always hiding behind your stratagems. You coward.-

Kallamar pushed him away, trying to hold back tears of pain.

And Shamura finally did something.

As Narinder was busy mulitaing his older brother, they managed to get behing his back, raising an arm before quickly slashing his back.

Narinder screamed, and jumped to a side, hissing hurt.

- Shamura, I can't hear anything.-

- What's happening?!-

War didn't answer. They had something more important to do.

- Such a great sibling, really.- Narinder's words were drenched with sarcasm, as the two kept circling around, alternating attacks. The spider was the only one landing any.

Just a little more on the left.

- You were the one who told me to explore my domain! Why are you punishing me for it?!-

Narinder evocated a circle of fireballs, which quickly started to fly around the room.

Shamura dodged them, as Leshy lowered his head, still crying. Heket managed to lay down, avoiding the attack, while Kallamar didn't react in time.

- But the second my cult is a little bigger then yours, you immediatly felt attacked. Are you really that scared of death? Of me?! And don't pull the "it's to protect our family", bacause look at how much you care about them!- Narinder angrily pointed at his siblings, trying to find any reaction in the spider's expresdion.

- ANSWER ME!-

As Narinder prepared his next spell, Shamura took their chance.

Narinder let out another hiss, holding his now wounded hand.

He looked as one of his fingers fell on the ground, and his eyes widened woth fear as he realized he was standing basically in the middle of a rune circle.

Shamura activated it.

Chains started to wrap themselves around death.

- S... mur...- Heket coughed up her own ichor, finally obtaining Shamura's attention.

They turned around, and saw the frog help Kallamar stand up, as Leshy kept sobbing and the squid stared at the spider with pure resentment.

Look how much you care about them.

The spider tried to find the right words to say, but didn't manage to.

Narinder quickly crushed their skull, in a last, desperate attack, before the chains started to drag him in the afterlife.

Shamura fell down, as the world started to fade, the purple crown quickly trying to repair the damage.

[meli-writes]

L'État, C'est Mecanisée

The Sun Empress wakes, left cheek scraping on tile, shackled to a blue-bloodied, automatic operating table — crown jewel of the mechanised annex of her Grand Inventor. Alchemical flames lick distant and resplendent at the royal apartments, follies of blue and gold dance on the mirrored masks of its half-clockwork chevaliers, broken on the marble courtyard.

“It would be foolish to hurt me, the XIVth Legion will soon surround this palace. You might still join me, I assure you — the pain is soon forgotten,” she says, with gentle arrogance.

The light is eclipsed by an approaching revolutionary. A red ribbon hair-tie falls limply past shadows that shift without due cause, yet refuse to part from her face; the Empress can see only an uncertain glint in her eyes, of a since-passed storm, and, in her hands, the glass-covered hemisphere of a mechanical mind — the Empress’ own crown jewel.

“No— you can’t mean this,” she says, recoiling, “this— mockery, of enlightenment, of progress: our nation’s destiny. The ruin of a precious mind, to make me the last of them?”

“You wouldn’t be the last,” Red Ribbon says, a disarming mainspring of melancholy.

“Of course— I see. You think you’ll make me a puppet, that I’ll wind-up my legions on words you place on the platter of my tongue.” It would be a mistake, a meek and distant voice says, the legions will never outnumber the uprisings she needs now converts them from. Every mask that slips, each half-recognised face, births another revolutionary.

“I’ll bleed to death on this table,” she retorts, “you’ll never hope to achieve what I’ve done.”

Red Ribbon doesn’t speak; she fractures the silence when the mournfully-clutched hemi-brain slips to the floor, spilling ten-thousand brass wheels, springs, and pinions across the floor. Rune-clad glass shards fall into a drain, fizzling with dying light.

She kneels and takes the Empress’ hands, her own trembling, and even this close, the Empress cannot see her sympathy. Does she mean to surrender? To beg the diplomatic method, that preserves her mind and the subtle features of untouched flesh.

Another revolutionary holds tightly the wrist of a forcefully-invited Duchess, unsure if she is rescued or captured, whom the Grand Inventor intended to work this upon personally.

“What? You wish my blessing, to despoil me? There is no artificer amongst you, I’ll—”

“Your Eminence,” Red Ribbon says. The Empress blinks in shock, and there is an audible ticking in the room. How did such respect purpose itself, from a black-guarded traitress?

“Do you recall who first introduced it to you, the clockwork?”

“Introduced? Invented,” she says breathlessly, “I am their creator!" The Empress was an upset heir, presaged into power upon the sudden Arcane Virulence of 1674; the unblemished royal survivor, then executor of the Imperial Retaliation of 1675 against an accused aggressor who provided bountiful material for the creation of IInd, IIIrd, and IVth Legions.

Red Ribbon gives a painful sigh, and holds a soft, warm hand to the Empress’ right cheek till she stops pulling away. “Okay, so when did you invent it?”

“1673,” the Empress says, curt and suspicious, but indulging in the delaying action. The Empress had been a quiet child, then, and lonely. She was artistic, and not bookish, and shared it with nearly no one — nearly. “One day I knew; I was simply destined for more.”

“Do you remember that day, anyone who might have — witnessed your achievement?” she asks, “Perhaps you woke up to someone — not the handmaid, she was— not there.”

“You had a frequent guest, if you recall; of the mechanists’ guild. Where might he be now?”

The Empress’ gaze flicks from broken clockwork, to Red Ribbon’s skirt — tattered, stained with human blood, alchemised spirit, and clockwork grease — to that only in her mind’s eye; a figure, its face obscured, but a cogwheel sigil-rune at its neck. It was— it was— gone.

“I understand if it’s difficult to remember, your Eminence. It was— a long time ago,” Red Ribbon says, running her other hand through the Empress’ hair. It is barely felt, smooth and unnaturally cold, even though Red Ribbon is sweating in the alchemical heat.

She gestures to someone behind her, and is given a silk tissue with a black mark.

“And this, please— do you remember this?”

The Empress looks, truly intentful. She sees it all around them, in the annex, before she cannot help but blink, heavily, as it disforms. It is— nothing, gunpowder or soot. Some few words gather on her lips, and she tries to speak— tries to speak— tries to— to— to—

Her head is jittering, with a lone eye pinned and screwed to her reflection in a discarded, mirrored mask, elegantly engraved and with red ribbon ties. Whenever it becomes clear she feels her mind whirring slower. And she hears it, the ticking, more wretched each time.

Everyone else can hear it too.

Red Ribbon withdraws, slowly, only letting go when the Empress’ shivering hands are too far away to hold. The clockworks should not understand that anything is different, the little that remains of them subsumed with the dual-power of arcane mechanisms.

Everyone else can see it too.

Where newly bloody and machine-marred glass meets bone and long-scarred flesh, where the left-side of the Empress’ face has been torn, and a half-skull that is gone, replaced with a clicking clockwork mind, a glimmering sigil-rune on its side; the prototypical maker’s mark.

Red Ribbon cannot hear her own sobbing over the ticking, and tries to ask one last question as springs pull and gears lock in a vergingly unbearable tightness.

“And me— do you remember me, Marie?”

The Empress tries to—

---

(Masterpost)

originally written 19/02/2024, in response to Make Up A Criminal's prompt:

Rebel who would give you a taste of your own medicine, if you weren't already addicted

for additional context, this was also my own prompt account. where i posted a mix of thief, assassin, bounty hunter, smugger, spy, rebel, pirate, fixer, fencer, and mob boss prompts. i might resurrect it here too, to see how people use my old prompts anew <3

i'm also not really an ES writer, but draw a lot of inspo & love their work as well as have a LOT of doll influences in my work.

[pyraelia]

August 12 - Day 2 Violence/Tenderness

Pyraelia smoothed her left hand across the weathered old map that Hilarie, one of her research assistants, had pulled out of the archive. It was a delicate thing, worth taking care with. One of the younger students — a bright star from Redridge who had managed to make it to the university on a scholarship — furrowed his brow as he looked at the inked in features, “Is that really Dalaran?” 

“Yes, the Dalaran I moved to well over a century ago, back when it was still fully in the ground,” she smiled fondly as she pointed a prosthetic finger at an outer ring that no longer existed, “It was never a sprawling city like some others, keeping it compact meant it was able to be protected by the Council easier. A thriving settlement existed outside the protective wards, and it was left behind when the city was lifted into the air.”

The Violet Crown had been no stranger to violence; even before her generation, before her parents even, and theirs, threat upon threat had been made to the magocratic jewel.

Was the present any different? 

She muttered a quiet thank you to Odille, her other research assistant, as the woman draped another large and much more modern map over the older one.

They’d lost so much.

She missed the candy shop, and the whimsy bar. Others had stepped in to take their place, but they couldn’t hold a candle to the charm of those that had been left behind. It wouldn’t do to let the gaggle of young people before her see the weight this put on her shoulders — but it had to be done, just in case. 

Pyraelia straightened up to her full six foot stature and cleared her throat to get their attention. She had never considered herself to be someone who could command a room — that was always Fiorenze’s arena, but the young students and scholars all immediately hushed their conversations and looked to her for guidance. “Alright, class. You all know the histories, you have heard of the trials and tribulations that have befallen our beautiful city. The High Archivists of every ward have instructed us to pass a message along.” 

Her hand waved, tracing small runes in the air over the beautifully painted parchment which caused glowing waypoints to pop up in every district, “If something should happen, there will be dedicated portal specialists in each one of these locations to get you and anyone you have here with you out of the city.” 

There was a palpable feeling of unease as she watched each student fixate on a different point of light, each one’s posture changing as they realized what this lesson was. She’d received similar briefings from the university and her Head Archivist each year she’d lived here, but it certainly hit different now that the Radiant Song had been touching more and more with each passing week. It was her job to help, not cause more anxiety, “You’re all the brightest of your age, dear students. I’ll be the first to tell you that we’ve received no direct threats to the city, but we want you all to be able to protect yourselves just in case.” 

That seemed to relax them. A younger elven woman raised her hand, as if she needed to request permission, before speaking out, “Is there a plan for the books and scrolls, too?” 

Pyraelia smiled, “Yes, we have plans for all manner of potential issues; I’m on one of the committees to keep our archives secured. We revisit our contingencies annually and have agreements with various kingdoms and cities. I’m afraid I can’t disclose more than that — even who we have agreements with is a well guarded secret.” 

After all, who could they trust? Especially now that the Council had become strange, even to her. She had her own contingencies, too, even if they would get her into trouble later. 

Someone would forgive her — even if she had to beg for it in whatever potential aftermath lay ahead in the infinite timelines that diverged from this exact moment.

@daily-writing-challenge

[kukurykunapatyku]

[I.D.: Drawing of Ichiji and Ace from One Piece. Both are inside rectangle frames, Ace in right up corner and Ichiji in left down corner, their boxes intersect in the middle. Ace is seen from behind, waist up, with his head thrown back. There is crown of alternating golden lines and red spheres around his head. He doesn't have a shirt or whitebeard tatoo. In the background there is Vinsmokes' skull. Ichiji is seen from the front, hips up, slightly from above. He holds a heart in his outsretched hand. He has blood on his hands and shirt. He wears grey shirt, black trousers and white cape with red lining. His eyes are visible, he looks focused. Words '"The first"? Weird name to give a son.' and 'Perfect for a sacrifice though.' fill the remaining corners of the drawing. /End I.D.]

Vinsmoke shipping week day 1: First meet / Immortal x mortal

How to get unimaginable power, by Vinsmoke Judge:

capture a fallen star -> try to make a deal with it -> get your favourite son to make a sacrifice in your place -> ??? -> profit

I'm boo boo the fool. I got an idea for au, made illustration first, thought the quote sounded good and filled the empty space. And then I got to writing and realised I have nowhere to put the quote so it would made sense 😗

This was supposed to be one shot for the vinsmoke shipping week but this au grew on me, i might do something with it in the future Not a lot of romance here I'm afraid 👍 maybe next time

🔽Fic under readmore 🔽 Also on Ao3

cw: slight gore, dehumanizing (refering to he/him with it/its)

Heavy basement doors closed with a dull thud behind Ichiji. The fog from his breath danced in the air, looking for any crevice that would let it out of the room.

Deep underground, sealed with runes and cement, only torches illuminating the dark - someone could call the precautions unneeded, but Ichiji knew better. He looked towards their prisoner, trapped on a painted floor.A catch like this was once in a lifetime.

The star didn't show that it noticed him yet. No matter, it wasn't needed for the first part.

Repeating father's instructions, Ichiji took a piece of chalk out of his pocket a got to work. Slender lines began to fill the empty spaces on stone walls and floor; circles, crosses and vines intersecting each other in carefully calculated patterns. The star didn't seem to move, but Ichiji could feel its eyes following him around the room. Good, so it's conscious. Not letting it disrupt him, he came back to the drawings. They needed to be perfect for the barter to work out.

He noticed, Ace thought, peeking from behind his eyelids. Well well, wasn't he an observant bastard. One that knew what he was doing; the symbols, even incomplete, already brimmed with power that made his throat dry and set of ringing in his ears. Ah, so he wantsa deal. A pretty serious one, he added to himself, looking at the size and complexity of the circle. His eyes trailed after the caped man. A few healing sigils, couple time capsules, warding lines - probably a kidney. Ace licked his lips. Maybe an eye or two if he was lucky.

Finally finished, the guy stopped before him.

"I know you are awake," he huffed.

Ace slowly opened his eyes and got better look at the figure before him. Sparse light glistened on red hair and sunglasses, the rest disappearing and reappearing from shadows.

"Why hello there," Ace said with a crooked smile. "What brings you here?"

"The deal."

Ace grimaced. Barely a word. The offering better be worth the drag; at least it'll get him out of this shitty basement.

"Silly me, of course. But, you know, there should be some decorum to this. Usually people start with their name."

Redhead stared down at him. Or at least Ace assumed he did, it was hard to tell with covered eyes. After a few moments of contempt silence the contrarian in him finally won.

"Okay, see, it goes like this:" He pointed at his chest and pronounced with exaggerated care. "My. Name. Ace." He turned the finger on him. "You. Name. What?"

For a second the shape of something like embarrassment appeared on the guy's face before it smoothed over again.

"Vinsmoke Ichiji. The oldest prince of Germa Kingdom, where you currently reside."

Ace widened his eyes. The guy- Ichiji actually responded? That was a new one. He grinned; maybe this won't be a complete waste of time.

"Ichiji... <First>? Weird thing to name a child. Your parents must be something else."

One curly brow went up.

"Is that so, Ace?"

Ace shrugged.

"I said what I said." he looked up. "So, Germa? Can't say I ever heard of it. Eh, it's not like I heard of many human kingdoms."

"You do not find us interesting, I get."

"Oh, the opposite! I find you humans really interesting; it's just your kingdoms that are just so incredible dull. You have a habit of pretending that they matter but truth be told? If you look from the side, they all look exactly the same."

Ichiji tilted his head. "Hm."

"You look less upset than I expected from someone who introduced himself as a prince," Ace inquired.

"Arguing wouldn't do anything, would it? That is not what I'm here to do." He pulled something small from his pocket and knelt next to Ace. "We should proceed."

The clang of iron shackles falling on the floor shot through the room. Ace rubbed his aching wrist.

"Well, it was nice to chat."

But Ichiji wasn't done. With the same key he started scrapping the paint from the stones around Ace. Not enough to free him, but the returning power buzzed under his skin. Ace stared with stunned expression; this deal really was going to be something else.

"Lets begin," Ichiji declared.

The air grew electrified, wind without a source banging between the walls. Ichiji stood up and draw his hands together, quietly chanting the words that made Ace's hair stand up. Ace transfixed on the redhead. His mouth curved into the feral smile, unable to contain excitement singing in his veins at the promised feast.

And then Mr. prince plunged his hand deep into his chest, blood spraying around. Sudden scent hit Ace's nose and he took sharp breath, which just made the aroma travel further his lungs, clouding mind and senses. Ichiji reached towards him with the still-beating muscle in his grip.

Ace seized the heart and bite down, savory juices exploding in his mouth, tender flesh ripping between his teeth. The blood stained his mouth so he tried to lick it off, teared between devouring the treat as fast as possible and not wasting a single drop. He was leaping from joy, fresh meat satiating his ever-present hunger for a moment and filling him with new strength. The flame inside his gut grew with every swallowed morsel; when was the last time he had a treat like this?

Engrossed in the food, Ace for a moment forgot about Ichiji, who dropped on his knees, sunglasses clinking on the floor. The blood on his chest dripped slowly, the sigils doing their job. Breathing heavily, he reached forward and grabbed the closest arm. Ace looked back at him, hastily gulping down last bits of the offering.

"Oh, right, the deal. Sorry about that. But man," He glanced down. "You must be pretty desperate! So, let's hear it."

"Give my father the power to conquer all the Northern Kingdoms."

His face froze. "What?"

"You heard me."

"I- No-"

"The heart is valuable enough, we did the math. You have no reason to refuse."

"Hold on for a moment!" shouted Ace. "That's why you're doing it?"

Ichiji squinted his eyes. "Just do it. That was the deal."

"I don't care what happens to your silly kingdoms, whatever their compass points at, but you did all this-" He gestured at the growing red spot on his shirt. "-because your father asked you to?"

"Of course," Ichiji mouthed. "He is my father."

Ace saw red.

"Ah." The ice crept in his voice. "I see. The answer is no then."

That seemed to get the reaction. Ichiji jerked his head, fingers clawing harder into Ace's bicep. "You can't just refuse, that's not how it works! I gave you an offering-"

"Yeah, so I'm going to grant your wish. If your father wants something from me, he can offer me his own heart, instead of sending you."

"My wish is for you to grant my father's."

"Nope, not doing it."

"You-" The argument was interrupted with a coughing fit, Ichiji's grip losing some of its strength. Ace caught his spasming body before it hit the floor and swore, suddenly much too aware of how quickly his life was draining away. He was going to keel over the second he was out of the protection circle. But they couldn't stay here, someone will come here sooner or later and then...

An idea struck him with a flash.

"Hold on, stay still for a moment..."

Ace doubted Ichiji heard him, still trying to catch his breath, so he shifted him around and put a hand on his chest. He exhaled and let the warmth flow towards the hole; the magic meandered its way between frayed skin and muscle, healing what it could, and what it couldn't...

The beating returned, it's pulse synchronized to Ace's own, too soft to be human. There was no time to celebrate; he focused, pulled on the strings surrounded them both, stretched them and clenched his teeth. He braced for what was to come and let go.

The furry of light and colours surrounded them, the force beating the air out of his lungs, astral wind blowing the hair all over the place.

And the next second, it was over. Ace knelt on the sandy beach, retching. Crap. He leaped to his feet, already turning towards the body.

Ichiji could breathe again. He opened his eyes and stiffened when he realized where he was. Or rather where he wasn't.

"Oh, so it did work!"

"How?" Ichiji growled.

The star grinned.

"Well, it wasn't easy with your heart missing, but I managed to-"

"How did you escape?"

It pursed its lips.

"Of course that's what you're worried about. You're in luck, because those two things are connected." It pointed one finger up. "First! I used some of my flame to keep you alive. I can't give you your heart back, since I already ate it, but you shouldn't die for some more time." It grimaced. "It's not a permanent solution, so you'll need to find something else."

Ichiji made an annoyed face. It put another finger up.

"Second! Because of the seals I couldn't just disappear myself, but I could send you away. And we're connected now, so I can't be too far from you. So when I pushed you out, you pulled me with you, and that's how we're here." It grinned again, arms outstretching to the sides, as if showing him the beach. "As far from that basement as I could put us!

"And third!" Next finger joined the rest. "Your wish."

Ichiji gritted his teeth.

"I already told you what I wish for. You refused. There should be some punishment for that."

"Oh don't worry, there is! But I hadn't broken our deal yet." Star crossed its arms. "I fully intend to grant your wish. But only yours."

"Give my father the power to conquer all the Northern Kingdoms."

The vein appeared on its forehead.

"Wrong answer. Let me get this straight." It leaned over him. "With the power I got from your sacrifice I manged to not only put your death on hold, but also get us both out despite all the obstacles. Do you think I would be able to do that if I was going against your heart? The way I see it, on some level, you wanted to leave. And on some level-" he stumbled. "On some level you didn't want to die. So that's how it's going to go. I'll stick around until you can give me your wish, your true wish. I'll grant it and the deal will be finished. And don't try to put any crap like the kingdom stuff."

Ichiji scowled.

"And if I try to come back and tell father about this you will just-"

"I'll just push us as far away as possible! Good, you're learning."

Ichiji glared at Ace. "It does not sound like I have a choice."

"That's something you're used to, isn't it?"

Ichiji didn't answer.

[raayllum]

Gift Giving & Primal vs First Elves :: Or Going Off Into the Deep Lore Deep End

Remember that meta I compiled about Greek mythology, deceptive gift giving, and TDP? Yeah it's time to talk about the gift motif properly as well as some other deep lore things because these excellent thoughts ( @spicyviren, @kradogsrats, and @its-leethee) got the wheels in my brain spinning.

AKA an unknown amount of sectioned word vomit into the nature of magic, where it comes from, how deep magic operates, some gifts and motifs, and Leola, just a little.

Let's go.

Gift Motif

The gift motif is one that's a bit of a slowburn in TDP. While characters will often pass and hand over objects — tools, artefacts, metaphorical responsibilities or trust (handing over the egg, for example) — to one another, there's not a big emphasis on gifts in the first three seasons.

There are some, such as Callum's letter from Harrow (that he's given by Claudia once again initially as a goodbye), Ezran giving Bait to Barius in S3, and Rayla's family pendant, but most of these, as you've might already noticed, are contextualized within Goodbyes. Whether the gift motif will amount in arc 2 to escaping this "final gift" context remains to be seen, but that's how it tends to work in interpersonal relationships.

There is an element of peace offering in hoping that returning Zym — a gift and/or gesture of good will — will help usher in peace, but I think (as of now at least) that ties further into the series' theme of Reciprocal Exchange (the assassin mission being an eye for an eye vs olive branch for olive branch) than outright gift giving. (Although we will probably talk about Exchange and gift giving at some point because there is also a thematic tether there.)

However, there is one other thing that is more and more often referred to as a gift in Arc 1, and that's Magic. Specifically, dark magic.

Now, this actually isn't that dissimilar from what the Goodbye gifts amount to, either. In Harrow's letter, he gifts Callum the Key of Aaravos believing it to be a powerful magical relic of some kind; Rayla's pendant makes its way from Ethari to her to Callum, who then uses it for magical purposes; and Bait, as a glow toad, is connected to an arcanum himself.

I do think it's noteworthy though that in Arc 1, (dark) magic being a gift is emphasized upon, specifically because of these lines for Khessa:

Upon first watching it back in 2019, it made sense that dark magic would be referred to this way, even when I just thought maybe it was that humans had been given 'nothing,' as Claudia says. Dark magic is closely tied to ideas of theft and thievery — stealing magic from others to harness its power for yourself — and the series is deeply interested in concepts of ownership or who has 'true' ownership over something, in magic, a throne/crown, a price to pay, etc. This follows neatly into Arc 2 (for ex: why Karim seeking to steal the Sun Seed is a metaphorical dark path even if it didn't outright involve dark magic through Kim'Dael), which we'll build on later.

That said, given the depth of the knowledge at the Great Bookery that is open to Sunfire elves more than any other type of elf, and the information that Tales of Xadia and Ripples gives us...

While elves warned that if humans were meant to wield magic they would have been born with it, [Leola] gifted the wisest humans with secrets: the language of the dragons and the runes that shaped spells. With the unicorn’s gift, the most determined minds among the humans could finally harness primal magic.

It happened long ago, when humans had only just learned to hold fire in their hands without burning. They nurtured their precious primal flames secretly—in the dark of night, beneath shadows and shrouds—as cultivating its glow drew the eyes and ire of monsters [...] Humanity had been given something it was never meant to have. And so there came a calamity.

It makes it more than likely than, unlike other elves such as Lujanne or Ibis, Khessa had reason to believe/know that there used to be primal human mages in the past... and that it wasn't 'enough' for them ultimately, because they still hungered and developed (and were given?) dark magic. "Your kind could not be satisfied with what you were given" was about the rejection of primal magic from Leola (the unicorns) in favour of a darker kind that involves theft and "dirtying yourself" (5x08) with dark magic.

But at the same time, this complicates the Gift Giving motif of including not just dark magic, but being also for primal magic — for humans, at least.

And also for elves. (Ignoring how "great orb" is very similar to "great one" for now.)

Janai: It was a gift. But there's more to it than that. The great orb began as this. Karim: This is... a sun seed?

Now, the Great Orb being grown from a Sun 'literal' seed makes sense. We've known for a long time that in Xadia, "magic is everywhere. It's just part of the vibrance or spirit of things" (1x05). Primal magic naturally occurring in plants, animals, and elves likewise makes sense on that note. Just as not "many could bear the gruelling path of a rune mage," Karim cannot bear to have patience and faith in something that will only come to fruition centuries later.

That said, I raise the question: how functionally different is the Great Orb from say, a sun primal stone would hypothetically be? If primal stones and primal magic were gifts to humanity from unicorns — from creatures connected to the Star arcanum, for lack of a better understanding — then why not magic from Startouch (?) elves to other elves.

How do we know that all magic isn't simply a gift that was given once upon a time?

From the First Elves to the Primal Elves.

Primal vs First Elves

So what's the difference between First Elves and Primal elves?

Well we have a few pieces of lore:

1) Zubeia's status as a "heavenly majesty" (which we'll come back to in the next section) gives her authority to speak in the name of the first elves, who are effectively gods to humankind and/or Xadians ("Have our Gods died? / Where do the fabled Great Ones hide?" —the Epic of the Void

2) It seems that the First Elves are, as of now and for a while, exclusively in reference to what would otherwise be called Startouch elves, although the latter is seemingly a name that came later given Rayla's affirmation of "ancient legends". This is reaffirmed in Tales of Xadia's two lone mention of First Elves:

No group of elves presents a greater mystery than the Startouch elves. Sometimes called the First Elves, those bound to the Star primal are rumored to have made great marks on Xadia’s ancient history—but beyond story and legend, little real evidence is left to us today [...] Among the few extant records of Startouch elves are the Scrolls of the First Elves, now kept in the Great Bookery of Lux Aurea.

3) At a post-S2 con in 2019 (how's that for a far reach?) we got a timeline of the events of Xadia laid out for us. The description of the very first piece of history and era we know of goes as follows, with the Rise of Elarion happening 2000 years ago re: the Dragon Prince era ("The Return of Aaravos"):

The Era of the First elves is the first recorded era 5,000 years prior to the current era. Dragons and elves were not allied during this period. There were no distinct primal elves. This is an era before all that. Humans suffered during this period. 

—2019 con timeline

4) Justin and Aaron reaffirm this at the 2:30 ish minute mark of this video (a couple of months before even S3 was released) by reaffirming distinctly to Primal elves. Later (7:40-ish mark) we see this distinction reaffirmed again through the statement of, "The patterns have been that these primal based elves have grown cultures and civilizations that have become separate and differentiated from kind of whatever the early days were with the First elves were."

Okay, so there was 100% a time where there were only First Elves, and humans, and Primal elves as we knew them (maybe still with the hands and horns, but no arcanum? Or no singular, distinct arcanum) didn't exist. Why does this matter?

This is where the deep lore timeline gets tricky, as we don't know precisely when 1) humans received magic and 2) at what stage the First Elves / Great Ones / Startouch elves 'left' Xadia, only that they did, apparently, when Elarion (the human city) needed help: "Elarion, unworthy whelp / Wept as the stars turned black the sky / They donned their masks / They turned their backs / And left Elarion to die". Why abandon the city (beyond indifference/cruelty as Aaravos would likely claim), who knows.

However, we can assume the timeline looks something like this:

Era of the First Elves

Primal elves (and presumably archdragons *) are crafted / develop into being, whatever that means

Humans are magic-less and are having a bad time

Unicorns / Leola extend sympathy despite the fact that the First Elves tell her not to (Book One: Novelization / Tales of Xadia)

Humans have primal magic (Ripples / Tales of Xadia)

This attracts negative attention, consolidated in Elarion ("the stars she asked their light to cast / and stop the dragons’ fiery might" / "as cultivating its glow drew the eyes and ire of monsters. Eventually, for the audacity of their fire, they were hunted")

Elarion asks for help and the Stars leave

Aaravos, the last star — presumably already Fallen from the First Elves — gives them dark magic under the guise of protection even though it will inevitably help him (i.e. give him the ability to possess people)

Dark magic replaces primal magic as the primary form for humans

Tension and violence escalates (unicorns are hunted to near extinction). Sol Regem is removed as King of the Dragons

Under Dragon Queen Luna Tenebris, the daughter of an elven leader suggests the Judgement of the Half-Moon, causing for humans to be banished rather than eradicated, and the continent split in two

Again, nothing too crazy / not too much we haven't already known or guessed at for a while.

But like I said, I'm gonna propose two theories, so bear with me:

Theory #1: What is Deep Magic?

The First Elves engaged with what we're gonna call Deep or Old Magic, for lack of a better term. There can be an assumption at times that this magic would be more 'pure' or less 'diluted' than dark magic or even the primal magic we've seen on screen. However, I think that's less than likely. Dark magic is often times a bad path for good outcomes, and primal magic can be a 'good' magic for bad outcomes (the blood freezing spell, for example).

While dark magic is a more textually malevolent magic system and primal magic is more true neutral — able to be used as a tool and a source of connection for the user — I don't think this necessarily means that Deep Magic is inherently enlightening (we see with the Ocean arcanum and S5 that knowledge can be an immense burden) or that it's on the opposite end of the spectrum and is outright benevolent.

What, then, am I suggesting Deep Magic to be? Well, we have some clues likewise from the same old interview post-s2 that we haven't had much basis to (potentially) understand until now, in which it's stated:

Deeper magic and deeper gifts that the original beings received [...] practical, usable, powerful magic is drawn from the six primal sources, right? But there is this idea that there's this earlier, less differentiated power kind of magic that's deeper and more - I don't kind of want to say what all of them are. It's not that important now, it has more to do with the history of beings and their interactions with each other. But Aaravos cares about some of this stuff. The best I can say is that one of them's Power — but well, what does that mean?

The six primal sources — potentially just five (hence why only 5 gemstones seem to occur naturally in nature, and Star seemingly doesn't) — are all based around physical, somewhat tangible principles. Earth, Ocean, Sun (fire/light), Sky (wind/weather) are perhaps the most tangible, with only Moon dipping into something into something more metaphysical: illusions and questioning the nature of reality, the nature of death, etc. However, I'd argue that the Moon arcanum's emphasis on death still makes it something that is particularly important to creatures who are mortal (but more on that later).

What I am arguing for is then, therefore, that Deep Magic is magic drawn from Concepts and Ideas > tangible things found in nature or parts of other magical creatures.

Three concepts, to be exact: (translated dark magic screenshot from Cartoon Universe spells reversed).

Zubeia: He chose as his instruments those who had strong hearts and strong minds, but who had an insatiable thirst and fascination with magic (power).

Three quasar diamonds, three deep magic concepts. Heart, Mind, Power.

("To know something truly and deeply, you must know it with your head, hand, and heart. Mind, body, and spirit." / "She laid before me her scales, her blindfold, and her sword, and told me to choose.")

Now, I don't know if it's these three concepts exactly — I could Truth, or Justice, or something like that — or even if it's three. But given what little we know about Deep magic thus far and how much the series' likes its threes, I think that's the likeliest number and combination.

We've known for a while that there's something weird with the connection between dark magic, spells that use blood, and 'star' magic. We know it's unlikely that Aaravos being able to possess people who have used dark magic was just a happy accident discovered after humans started using it. We know that when Callum is offered the dark magic version of the cube in his dreams, the symbol is blood red: "You can have unlimited power." And that dark magic "became the key that unlocked a place of power for humans in Xadia" (Tales of Xadia).

So what if dark magic stems from the vein of Deep magic that's taken from the concept of Power? What if when Aaravos offered his pawns "unlimited" Power, or when Kpp'Ar accused Viren of (potentially using star magic) "making the same choice you always made: the one that gives you Power," they meant it?

Alternatively, this could mean that most other Startouch elves — their longevity, their indifference — comes from the vein of Mind and subsequent intellectual detachment? Enough intelligence and reason not to hunger for more (Power), but not enough compassion and empathy to sympathize with others (Heart).

And it would also tie into Leola being unique among her own kind for her heart taking pity on the humans, and giving them primal magic — perhaps in the vein of Heart, if we're keeping things consistent — and why love ("To know something truly and deeply [...] I love you with all of myself, and I always will" / "To love is simply to know this: the tides are true as the ocean is deep") has been consistently tied to Callum unlocking arcanums. The "Narrative of Strength (power)" vs "Narrative of Love" being even more literal than we thought.

This wouldn't be too out of line since Moon arcanum philosophy already borrows heavily from Plato's idea of the forms/reality (Plato's allegory of the cave, anyone?) and the forms basically mean "your imagined ideal of the object in your mind is going to be more perfect than any tangible, 'real' version of the object could ever be." That being applied to living beings who are literally in the sky would track a certain amount, in addition to the idea that however primal magic is set up in Xadia right is "the whole world is like a giant primal stone; sky magic is all around us, and it's also in me, with every breath we take." But I digress.

With the distinction of Deep Magic as 1) separate and a sea that flows into the primal as well as 2) older and earlier than primal magic, now onto the next theory:

Theory #2: First elves and the Archdragons?

Now admittedly this one is more speculative since beyond knowing 1) the First elves = what we'd call Startouch elves, 2) the rest of them except Aaravos 'left' Xadia a while ago, and 3) the aforementioned possible 'Mind' deep magic thing, we very quickly run out of set knowledge into full blown speculation. Beyond

With that in mind, I wanna talk about the... weirdness, I suppose, between the Archdragons / draconic royal family and the First Elves.

There's a few notes to this: we know that Ancient Draconic is the language of primal magic, indicating that dragons existed and presumably had primal magic before elves did, and that elves had to be given that linguistic knowledge at least to a certain degree.

Then we also have the way Zubeia is referred to being mirrored with the way she describes Aaravos later:

Likewise, the one person/creature we've seen referred to as a god outside the Epic of the Void poem is Avizandum by Harrow (bonus points for the game motif of "entire armies have fallen like toys" because of him):

Bloodmoon Huntress also asserts that from an elven point of view (or at least Lain and Tiadrin, and presumably Runaan, too) that "Dragons are the lifeblood, the very core of Xadia" and generally assumed that dragons have the most powerful connection to their individual primal sources.

So I'd be willing to wager (esp since Sol Regem is at least 1,2000+ years old) that Archdragons at least once upon a time had been contemporaries of the First Elves if not peers. What and why that connection exists and how relevant it is for today, I don't know, but I do think there's something there, especially since the one example we have of a First Elf-Dragon relationship in Aaravos, Avizandum, and Zubeia, was perceived to be positive somewhat on all sides — a matter of trust on his end (in order to be "betrayed") and a matter of reverence and importance on theirs; "admired and loved by all" / "you meant something to him".

There is also something to be said for the Archdragons being the most powerful embodiment of the primal sources (alongside maybe some rare and noteworthy elves, like Queen Aditi) still being "unable to risk a direct confrontation" with only one singular and Fallen Startouch elf. What would a whole slew of them at the height of their power look like? (And yet it is implied that the Nova Blade is "ivory draconic" so... maybe you just have to get a First Elf close enough to the mouth to be consumed / bitten? Or perhaps the Nova Blade is made from the tooth/claw of a 'Star' arcanum dragon.)

TLDR; it's looking more and more like Startouch elves as we understand them and First Elves in generally are — while emotive and feeling the way humans and elves are — something very different from anything else we've seen thus far in terms of knowledge and power skill, and that distinction is only going to be made more and more apparent as the story goes on.

Theory #3: Where do we go from here?

So if Deep Magic is distinct from Primal, and is distinct from 2/3 kinds of Deep Magic in dark magic (derived from 5-primal and Power deep magic thoughts)... where do we go from here, magically speaking?

Well, the important thing to note is that the story has given us some thematic clues. Aaravos is concerned with exile and power, both things we see thematically most represented by human characters (with some elven exceptions like Karim and Kim'Dael). The other Star touch elves are very on brand for "Xadian exile" as their favourite punishment as well as extreme isolationism ("I knew I had to be strong alone" etc). Therefore, whatever answer we give Magically also has to reconcile these issues from a thematic and character based standpoint.

It seems like a switch of where people are concentrating energy — for Startouch elves and humans — needs to have a drastic shift to one of the other veins/concepts of deep magic that will hopefully heal the rifts. If Aaravos is Power (humans) and the others are 'Mind' (Xadian indifference/isolation and banishment) for lack of a better idea, then subverting that binary and shifting more to a third 'Love' path seems to be very on brand for TDP. Holding both at the same time but being guided by a higher principle of peace and harm reduction is what Ezran's 4x03 speech is all about, after all.

Something something both Xadia and magic and the First Elves being reunited with Xadia / humanity and elvenkind as TDP's endgame, something something.

Other Gift Giving Thoughts

The other thing I wanna talk about now that everything else is laid out is how gifts are Given, in TDP. We see time and time again relationships and magic systems being framed on the idea of whether they are giving, taking, both in a bad way or in a good way. There seems to be two main indicators for gift giving, therefore, either that in the receiver is worthy, or that the exchange is going to be reciprocal.

At its best, a gift works as intended.

Humans (and elves?) are given primal magic and generally use it for exploration and to care for themselves / one another The sun seed is given to the Sunfire elves, but they must nurture it. Callum gives Rayla her father's bow and she uses it to protect them. Callum achieves enlightenment and understanding of him and is rewarded with primal magic twice, even if the Ocean in particular is a bit murkier than he'd probably like. Gifts and belongings are relinquished or restored for freedom, for hope, for peace.

Here we have to wonder if Leola's Last Wish reconciles both the Goodbye gift motif and the gift of Magic motif, possibly resulting in the gift of the sun seed or more likely something to do with primal magic / alleviate the fallout of dark magic's consequences.

For example, to get an answer from Rex Igneous — a seeming wealth of knowledge — you have to give him a worthy gift that is also a sacrifice of some kind, according to Nath'an.

However, Ezran points out the major flaw in this line of thinking, as "We offered gifts that meant a lot to us, but the truth is, they don't mean anything to you." Not everyone is going to value the same thing or think the same thing is worth the price that was paid.

We see this interpersonally most with the mage fam ("Maybe the world would be better off without magic" from Soren, whose life was saved with it) and with Rayla and Callum (as Rayla's gift of sacrifice by leaving is something Callum did not want and rightfully did not receive well, alongside her moonstone pendant). Again: what is defined as worthy, or worthiness, is in the eye of the beholder.

Just like one of the initial thoughts that inspired this meta, Khessa asserts that dark magic is a magic that "takes" > being reciprocal for both parties, nevermind a gift. The irony, however, runs a bit deeper, as Aaravos thinks the same of his fellow stars:

But the stars kept from them one secret still: that their first lesson—patience—was not a gift of the stars at all. You see, patience is a lesson the humans taught themselves. No, the stars do not know patience, for they have no need for it. The stars want for nothing, and take all to their liking.

And we see this idea of a 'false gift' show up time and time again in the series. Nyx pretends to offer passage but actually wants to steal Zym; Rayla's act of love in leaving is a curse upon Callum's heart and wellbeing; dark magic itself is a false trade of sorts, given how unevenly it tips scales in Aaravos' favour and how much it ruins both the environment and body of its caster.

[The elven thief Lasair] never saw the precious blossoms fade and turn to cold ashes when exposed to the dawn. They never learned their gift was perceived as a curse, not a trade. 

—Tales of Xadia

Kim'Dael goes to Queen Aditi under false pretences ("The Queen's Mercy") but the gift that Aditi gives her is nothing good at all:

What pretty bauble, she wondered, had she tricked the queen into forging as a token of protection? What could be powerful enough to ward away the wrath of dragons?

Just as humans sought the stars' help to protect them from the ire of the dragons, Kim'Dael sought Aditi's. And just as Aaravos offered them a false magic that would protect and ultimately trap/destroy then, so does Aditi, with magic that doesn't seem to be entirely dark or primal:

“But know this: the binding around your neck—it is made with magic not unlike your own. It is a magic that demands, that takes."

A form of magic even maybe that demands sacrifice for that kind of Power.

You could almost say it's something Deeper.

Conclusion

Hope you enjoyed going completely off the rails with me, and that this long (winded) post got you thinking! I'll probably do a followup discussing the implications of what we have here for potential Laurelion-Aaravos later. In the meantime, take the fruits of my labour, and spin your own hamster wheels if you'd like.

[nagaparadise]

Inspired by that art reblog of using the rattle snake tail to entertain the baby, what would the nagas be like as dads? 🥹

Rune would be stoic as ever, tough but fair on his child. Of course, that isn't to say he wouldn't absolutely melt around his child. He would teach them a wide variety of things from hunting to self-defense, to cooking and pelt making. Afterwards, he'd wrap them (and you!) up in the pelts everyone has made, holding you both in his four arms. Bonus: he'd still look grumpy, but totally cry when he hears his child say their first words.

The Forest Guardian would dote on his child non-stop - writing them poems and songs, showering them in flower petals and flower crowns, and telling them stories of ancient days. Since his children would technically be demigods, he'd teach them how to harness their special power, and would be so excited to show you what your little one is able to do!

Halloran just wouldn't stop himself from bombarding his little one in tickles and noogies! He'd teach them how to make medicine and swim, but he'd also love to playfight with them (of course letting them every time while overdramatically pretending to be defeated!)

[fluff-writing]

once again I am thinking about tyreal gets fired au

Plz imagine Tyrael trying to make a flower crown for Leah, but continuously messing it up cuz his fingers are huge and made of metal and he accidentally crushes the flowers. Leah doesn't mind though. Her hands are tiny and very good for weaving flowers, she just makes uncle Tyrael hold the blossoms while she works.

In very dire straights he would sometimes pick up Cain under one arm and Leah under the other like a pair of footballs and take off with them. Leah adored these moments, and it's probably what inspired her to enchant a broom for Witch Shenanigans.

I also think it's very important that everyone knows that TGF Tyrael is running some kind of hammers/foh/zeal mishmash pally build. He has a monarch shield and a flail, and goes on the occasional one-man Rampage of Justice whenever the fancy strikes him. His conviction is matched only by his concentration.

Tyrael and Cain were equally stumped by Leah's latent 'powers'. Neither of them ever quite found the right approach to channeling this power, and so they could only craft different pendants and runes to help her contain it. It wouldn't be until Inarius turned up and pointed out that she had demonic magic, which didn't obey the same rules as angelic or mortal magic, that they really started getting anywhere.

Despite all this, he did manage to teach her to cast Holy Bolt. So watch out.

Tyrael is of the opinion that a more dangerous Leah is a less vulnerable Leah. Cain is not sure if he agrees. Leah is just happy Uncle Deckard stopped sighing over her daggers.

Tyrael and Inarius are that high-level Pally+Sorc duo running all the chaos-runs. iykyk.

His relationship with the Angels of Heaven may never be quite the same after they banished him from his home, but Tyrael at least managed to find something on Sanctuary that he never could in the Heavens. He has a family now.

[fantomette22]

And here’s a bloodborne crows headcanons drawing no one ask for!

Yeah I headcanons that some characters used to have some pet crows but it’s mostly a references for my fic verse too.

So I don’t have names for all the crows but I have a couple of ideas already. If you have ideas too pls share I’m listening.

Let’s begin with Cainhurst! 🛡️

📚🦉Ok Beltran from the cut content! Not sure he’s still alive during old hunters time but basically I imagined he was the (first?) crow master of Cainhurst.

🐦‍⬛⚔️Vledemyr my oc, my fav cainhurst knight! The current crow master. (Maria & Annalise’s cousin too) He was the one in charged of them before he become captain of the royal guard, he actually have lots of them (and they all love him a lot) but his very first crow is Corvus, the crow on his shoulder.

👑🕊️Ok so Annalise was offered an Albino crow, because she’s the princess and future Queen you see. *Check notes* hm Yuki is a possible name but idk either smt Japanese or slavic who mean snow or fit with cainhurst aesthetic idk.

👑🐦‍⬛ Ah Charles (oc based on the cainhurst portrait too, king consort when Annalise was Queen). So when he marry her and was crowned he was offered a baby leucistic crow (that’s why it’s brown, it’s a loose of melanine like albinism bur not complete the the eyes aren’t red or the skin pink for exemple), he was so confused about it like you can see XD probably except a hound or smt (in his dream he would have wish for a lion but there’s no lions at Cainhurst since like 60+ years or smt)

🐦‍⬛🌕🐦‍⬛Maria have 2-3 crows (the ones at the research hall you know 😢 minus the one with the guidance rune that belong to Ludwig like you can see) As for the names I was hesitating between Hugin & Munin (Odin’s crows) or Phobos & Deimos (Mars’moon) for the 2 crows siblings (well I hc Maria study astronomy so… heheh also her third one is the one German is holding x) yeah missing a leg I know. Ok also after Maria passed away the crows escape from the research hall and freak Gehrman out! They wanted to say to him hello or called his named and because crows can mimics sound and voices they took Maria’s voice 💀 he thought he was going crazy for a few mins before he found them… but really it annoyed more Laurence XD the crows really went to harass him (they know what’s up. Or didn’t take well he put them in cages or smt, or you know because of Maria. It got to the point Laurence almost wanted them dead 💀

Fortunately Gehrman managed to made them go with the very first official hunter of hunter, he passed to him the mercy blade as well.

🐥Ah Voron my boy! Aka future bloody crow🩸🐦‍⬛ (No I am not detailing the entire backstory here! And yes his name means raven/crow I KNOW!) also the red of the cap don’t appear much sorry… thanks the scan.

✨+Svetta another Cainhurst oc based the painting with her crow, Voron mom yes. Vledemyr is his dad.

👁️I managed to put Micolash & Edgar on the page XD

💣🔥 Ah this one well when we first got into the hunter nightmare there’s a hunter before a gate right? Behind there’s a crow and I noticed the crow attacked the beasts but the hunter and the bird never attacked each other (only the hunter or beast) that’s why I now headcanons that many old hunters had crows too like this one.

🗡️🌕Ludwig & his crow with the guidance rune. One day the old hunters found many dead crows in the forest, not a good sign… Ludwig managed to recover a baby crow an care for it (he was so panicked at first he asked Maria for help so many times XD)

🐦‍⬛Eileen and some crows & the very first official hunter of hunters! (Before her)

🐦‍⬛The friendly crow of hemwick on the top left :3 I hc it’s either the crow bloody crow had or one link with Eileen or either my own hunter.

As for the other names I had in mind : Hrafn, Karasu, Branagan (I think I’m keeping this one as the name of the first crow hunter too)

🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛

Now, you’re gonna ask me why didn’t I just named one « Kuro » (black color in Japanese) well, I’m keeping it for the horses’ names of Cainhurst!!!!