#and the dragon nest arc too! all in one!

[franeridan]

I'm gonna start testing the reading comprehension of the next person that says tristamp is simply a trigun prologue

[kaija-rayne-author]

Review 8 in series of Dragon Age Veilguard

60 hours in 58 actual gameplay

Something came to my attention. I need to make it crystal clear that I utterly love the diversity in DAV. It's fantastic. I'm also a heavily left leaning, non-binary, queer as fuck reviewer, editor, and author.

I'm on media blackout while I play this, so I'm only getting second-hand info on how awful it is right now in the DA Fandom. Please be safe and take care of yourselves. Arguing with incels and white supremacists is completely pointless. They sea lion worse than an actual sea lion. Your mental health is important.

Though, every single time the anti-queer brigade comes out for a new DA game, I sit there thinking 'have you bozos ever played any DA game, like, ever?' My guess is nope.

Part 7 is here.

Spoilers for Dragon Age Veilguard

Critical review CW strong language.

Well. If I'm right about who the Gloom Howler is, and I'm almost certain after the Cauldron... I really fucking question the reading comprehension of whoever wrote that arc.

She loathed doing what she was ordered to do to the griffins. She saved the last clutch of eggs, left secret clues on where to find the nest kept in stasis, and answered her calling early so no one could get the information out of her. All in the hope that future generations would be worthy of griffins again. And now she's doing the exact opposite? Seriously?

I mean, I'm aware that the supplementary material isn't something everyone is gonna read, but as far as I know the printed materials are considered canon. Which means they've taken a sad, epic story and completely reversed it in a retcon I'm not sure I can forgive them for.

I've marinated myself in the Lore of this world. That's an incredible disservice to her sacrifices to save the last remaining griffins. It's a disservice to the writer of Last Flight, too. That's not even touching on the 'of course when you shove a blade into the bones of a roughly 400 year dead arch demon... it will come out bloody?' Excuse me now? Someone has watched too much jurassic park, because that would be utterly impossible.

Once again, I'm asking myself What. The. Actual. Fuck. were the devs and writers thinking?

Surely they know at least some of us have read the printed stuff?

Did they think we'd have forgotten? Unfortunately for these retconning incompetents, (I am so, so sick of retconning in general, and fed the fuck up with it in this game) autistic and AuDHD folks like me tend to have razor keen memories about our special interests. Whoopsies.

Last Flight wasn't my fav of the books, but it was beautifully written and heartbreaking with a gleaming golden string of hope.

And this is the end of that story? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?

I can honestly think of only one way they could make that make sense. And my trust in Bioware writers now lives below sewer level, so I'm not hopeful they'll go that way.

It's possible that I'm wrong, but understanding and critiquing media is my actual job when I'm not recovering from a pulmonary embolism. And yes, absolutely, I could've written far, far better material.

How. Can someone please tell me HOW a company that has something as successful as DAI under their belt... makes... this? I swear this game (DAV) is like some of the worst AI written shite I saw in ESO back when I played that years ago.

I guess I should say machine written. Whatever. I've heard ESO was doing that a long while ago. And the blah storylines and boring assed questlines proved it.

This game reminds me of that. Though, I think they were probably written by actual humans... I really have to question where exactly they scraped up the writers for them.

The street? A back alley? A mud pit? Did they give apes access to a keyboard and use whatever claptrap they came up with? (Yes. They did. Humans are apes.)

It's common enough in Hollyweird that writers working on a particular IP (intellectual property... IE Dragon Age or Witcher etc.) often utterly loathe the source material. I fail to understand why or how that would be okay, because we can fucking tell, you know? You can tell when a writer loves their work, and when they don't. And we wonder why so many things in hollyweird fail.

Is that what happened to DAV?

They had a fucking blueprint for fuck's sake! DAI was RIGHT THERE. It won GOTY if I recall correctly. No one wanted a game exactly like DAI but dear fucking gods something... not this... would've been far preferable. If they'd used DAI as a sort of map? A guideline or outline? DAV might’ve been a good game. And the sad part is that it actually could have been. With just a little more care, less streamlining to mediocrity, better editing and writing? This could've been another win for Bioware. As is, if it wins anything I'll be suspicious of bribery.

It's just so... meh. Where it's not outright bad.

And even though I'm under media blackout so I can write a truly unbiased review... it wouldn't surprise me if some fans were going gaga over this travesty of a game. Just because it has Dragon Age in the title.

It sucks when you want desperately to love something. But you just can't because you can see the flaws. And the flaws far, far outweigh the good parts.

And none of those good parts are even unique. They're just lifted from other games.

And I got the load up with no CC glitch again. Lost about an hour of playtime figuring out when it happened and which save to reload. I'd really hoped the damned hour long update would've taken care of that.

What a sad mess this game is.

Though on the positive, I do love the new takedown mechanic. And it's oddly satisfying to clear blight. I like tracking things. IRL too. I grew up in a subsistence hunting family. Though, I always just used a camera. I know how to track stuff, so that's fun. I like the ballista and zip lines. There are good parts of the game... but they aren't the parts that really matter.

I had to turn Taash down for Romance because it happened way too fast. I barely felt like I knew them, and my demi ass needs more than what we got before committing to a relationship.

It's warming up with Lucanis, Emmrich, and Davrin. I'm not decided yet. And this is where a polyam mod would be great. There's no reason polyam shouldn't have been included in the game. It could've been just a few characters okay with it like BG3, but the rep and possibilities would at least be there.

I'm incredibly fed the fuck up with the narrative that turns Solas into an awful person. They're trying so fucking hard to paint him that way. They're hammering it home so hard I really can't recommend (at this point) that Sollavellans play it. It's possible that will change, but... sigh. They've even got my Rook saying negative shit about him. Shouldn't that be a choice that I get to make about my Rook? How they feel about Solas?

And if I could kick the incredibly unintelligent and massively fucking annoying Lace Harding off a cliff, I absolutely would. Hard. And laugh while I did it.

Everyone blames Solas. Why is everyone so far up Mythal's asshole that they're forgetting it was always her requiring her bound servant IE enslaved spirit who never even wanted a body (forgetting that part?) Solas to do what she said. That he tried over and over again to dissuade her?

You know, as a friend said, they could've hired a bunch of Ao3 fic writers and paid them in pizza or waffles and come out with better story lines than this.

Oh, but no, it's all Solas's fault. And the narrative is so fucking heavy handed on that that it's honestly nauseating me a little.

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

Section 9 here.

[yronnia]

[Edit: check my reblog too, screenshots from the book kindly provided by spookydazechaos]

Agnesses Nyce and not so accurate prophecies with screenshots.

The full list below.

Some are unreadable (to me), so I inserted some X-es instead, where necessary. Interesting is, that Orient Chariot is mentioned twice, in prophecy nr. 3819 anf 4019.

Prophecy nr. 3012 is only one I cant allocate, dont tell me its about Aziraphale and Crowley, when Agness adressed Aziraphale by "angel" "thyf " and "principalitee", whats the bit about the dragons? Because they have wings?

1111- An the Great Hound sharl come

and the Two Powers sharl watch in V

Goeth Where is, Where they

Notte, and he sharl name it, True to l

and Hell sharl flee it

2213- I tell ye thyf, and I charge

ye with my wordes. Four shalle

ryde and Four shalle alfo ryde,

and Three sharl ryde the Skye

as twixt and Wonne shal ryde in

flames, and theyr shall be no stopping

themme, not fish, nor rayne nor rode, neirher

Deville nor Angel. And ye shalle be theyr also

2214- In December 1980 an Apple will arise no

man can eat. Invest thy money in Master Jobbes

thinking machine and good fortune

will tend thy days.

2315- Sumsay It cometh in Londo xxx or

New Yorke, butte they be Wronge, f xxx is

Taddes fild, Stronge inne hys powr, h xxxxke

a knight inee the fief, he divideth the xxx

4 partes, he bringeth the storme.

3001- Behinde the Eagles Neste a grate Ash hath fallen.

? 3007- Brings forth

For the devil lucks in plain sight.

Under an arc of pale moonlight.

3008- When that the angel readeth these

word of mine, in his shoppe of other mmennes

books, then the final days are certes upon us. Open

thyne eyes to understand. Open thyne eyes and rede

I do say, foolish principalitee, for thy cocoa doth

grow cold

3009- Seven, who hold the Scepther shall be killed,

xxx shall become a saint.

3011- xxThe?

and churces be laid open

opressed shall prevail, and oppose the cruen

foreginers. For a Boar of Cornwall shall give his

assistance and trample their necks under his feet

3012- A shower of blood shall rain and a ragging

famine shall afflict mankind. When dhese things

happen, the Red Dragon shall grieve, but when his

fatigue is over, he shall recover his strength. Then

shall misfortunes hasten upon the White Dragon,

and the buildings of his gardens be pulled down.

3017- I see Four Riding, bringing the Ende, and

the Angells of Hell ride with them, And Three sharl

Rise. And Four and Four Together be Four, and the

Dark Angel sharl Own Defeat, Yette the Manne

sharl claim his Own.

3477- Lette the wheel of Fate turne, let harts

en- join, there are othere Fyres than mine, when

the wynd blowethe the blos- soms, reach oute one

to anothere, for the calm cometh when Redde and

Whyte and BLacke and Pale approache to Pear is

Our Professioune.

3819- When Orients chariot

inverted be, four wheles in the

skye, a man with bruises be upon

Youre Bedde, achinge his head

for willowfine, a manne who

resterh with a pyn yette his

hart be.

3988- Whene menne of crocus come frome the

Earth and green manne frome thee Sky, yette ken

not why, and Plutos barres quitte the light- ning

castels, and sunken landes riseth, and Levia- than

runneth free, and Brazil is vert, then Three cometh

together and Four arise, upon iron horses ride, I tell

you the ende draweth nigh.

3989- He is not what he says he is

4009- Where the Hoggs back end the young

beast will take the world and Adams line will end

in fire and darkness.

4019- When Orients chariot inverted be a

man with bruises up thy bed, aching his head for

willow fine

4020- Let the wheel of fate turne, let harts

enjoin, there are other fyres than myne, when the

whirl wynd whirls, reach oute one to another.

5001- When the skies are xxxx, then ye

both must stand between the world and life and the

world of wae, where the iron bird lands no more

5004- When alle is fayed and all is done, ye

must choofe your faces wisely, for soon enouff

ye will be playing with fyre

[lwjsbedtime]

I keep thinking about this awkward Dragonji situation where Foxxian baby traps himself, and it makes me laugh so here it is.

For the sake of my brain goblins, dragons are born from eggs in this AU and have a custom of laying them as a sort of courtship offer to compatible mates. HOWEVER, in practice this usually only happens after an engagement has been arranged between families (and if you really want to be proper, after the wedding ceremony).

Dragon families make a big fuss about new eggs, to the point where it's more expected to try for one on the wedding night, rather than, uh...the usual stuff. A newly wed dragon's room will be filled with the supplies to make a nice, warm nest, the air filled with soothing incense designed to relax a fertile dragon's muscles - everything conductive for laying! It's a very important, very private, very sacred part of draconic nature, and as such is treated with incomparable respect. It's seen as a rite of passage that marks the beginning of adulthood for those with the ability to brood.

Only those closest to the dragon may be present for the laying, and sometimes not even they will be allowed to participate, if the one nesting deems it too awkward for them to entertain guests.

So of course, Dragonji becomes livid when - on the third day of the Jiang disciples being in CR - Foxxian manages to fluster him so badly that he spontaneously lays an egg. Right. In. The. Middle. Of. A. Walkway.

No wooing, no bride price, not even an ounce of privacy or concern for his dignity. That...shameless little fox has him birthing his firstborn on the same path his uncle strolls along to digest his lunch!

At first, he thinks he can hide what's happened by squeezing his thighs together. He cannot. The egg ricochets down the leg of his pants, out onto the path, before it bounces across the grass, merrily as anything. He can see Foxxian out of the corner of his eye watching it as it arcs through the air.

It's the most mortifying moment of his life. He can feel a qi deviation coming on. This will literally be the end of him - physically and otherwise. The situation's only saving grace is that no one else saw him lay his egg on the side of the road like some trollop - only WWX.

Foxxian, blissfully unaware of the reproductive habits of dragons, thinks Dragonji has been sneaking food around to eat between classes. He takes this as a sign that LWJ is secretly a fellow Rule Breaker. Obviously, this makes them best friends.

Wwx: See Lan Zhan? I keep telling everyone this place doesn't offer enough food. How am I meant to sustain myself on vegetables? If we can't have meat, why not at least offer eggs? We're growing boys! We need the nutrients!

Lwj, meanwhile: Does he… Does he want to eat my baby?! 

LWJ will not stand for such disrespect from the fath- from the...annoying witness of this egg debacle. He stomps over to collect his egg, shooting a scathing glare at WWX before storming off in a huff. 

Wwx: 🤨 Did I say something? I wasn't going to steal the egg! It's yours! You eat it!

----

After a good while of sulking (wondering why WWX wants to eat their LWJ's child) LWJ drags himself to his uncle's quarters to notify him of what occurred. As much as he'd rather keep his shame to himself, he needs his elders' advice.

Only a small percentage of the dragon population is capable of laying eggs, and those who can tend to have very few come to term. The Lan have therefore made a point of ensuring each one is tested for viability, and treated with care. 

Of course, the laying of a new egg is usually cause for celebration, preceded by a long engagement and a wedding night. Occasionally an unmated dragon manages to brood by themselves, but they're soon betrothed in order to create a healthy environment for their egg's upbringing. It's all very structured and proper. LWJ knows that he will be seen as a disappointment for laying an egg so recklessly; that he will be expected to now wed - quickly.

LWJ doesn't want to get married. He selfishly hopes the egg isn't viable, so he can pretend this whole humiliating fiasco never happened.

It is.

Lan Qiren informs him in no uncertain terms that it must be fertilised - soon. Of course - as LWJ expected - for such a thing to occur outside of marriage would be unthinkable for a son of the main line. A child must have two parents to nurture their development, after all, even if neither of them particularly care for one another. It's everything Dragonji feared.

LQR delivers a list of potential husband candidates for his nephew. LWJ finds a reason to refuse each one. None of them are fit to raise his children. Certainly none could ever convince him to lay another egg for them. Least of all NMJ. Really, what was Uncle thinking?! He's one of xiongzhang's dearest friends! That would be like wedding a particularly opinionated cousin - legal, but personally repellent. And he'd have to tolerate NHS for the rest of his life!

He quickly strikes another name from the list. Best not to linger too long on his uncle's reasoning - if he gives the man any leeway, he'll soon find himself married to someone truly insipid, like Su Minshan.

Meanwhile, LQR calls his eldest nephew to his study to discuss Very Important Sect Business.

Lqr: Why is Wangji so picky? I thought he liked NMJ?

Lxc: …Uncle, I also like NMJ. It does not mean I'd like to marry NMJ. Those are…different feelings entirely. 

Lqr: 😡 You haven't laid any eggs willy-nilly, child. Your brother has. Surely he would prefer to raise his offspring with someone close to him; someone of similar values.

Lan Xichen hums in consideration.

Lxc: What about the person who caused him to lay it?

Lqr: The who? 🙈

Lxc: 😮‍💨 WWX, Uncle. The Jiang head disciple.

Lqr: The who? 🙉

Lxc: I've been told he's a mischief maker, and follows Wangji around like a lovesick babe?

Lqr: 🙊 The wh- What do you mean lovesick? If that brat even thinks about touching WJ's egg, I'll- 😡

As Lan Qiren continues his rant, WWX is in the midst of breaking into the Jingshi. He's noticed, of late, that LWJ is evading him (more than usual). He's also noticed the little pouch he's started carrying around his neck - one with an egg nestled in it.

From the distinctive speckle pattern, he's been able to discern it's the same egg every day. So, not a snack, despite the very snack-like sensations the sight of it stirs within his little fox belly. He thinks it might be Significant in some way, but he also doesn't particularly care - LWJ never pays attention to him anymore, and it's all that dumb egg's fault! 

WWX has decided the egg needs to go. He's going to eat it. 😡😡

After ascertaining no stray LWJs remain inside the cottage, he slides open the door, steps in, and begins to snoop.

It doesn't take long to uncover the egg, laying snuggled up amongst LWJ's blankets. His stomach boils hot with jealousy. That's his spot! If LWJ paid attention to him instead of the egg, he could be sleeping in that pile of blankets! Don't ask him why he'd want to do that - he doesn't know. 

Annoyed, WWX snaps the egg up between his clawed fingertips. He licks his lips. He can't help the way the stupid egg makes him drool - and it is a truly stupid egg! Not slightly pretty at all! (But WWX is forgiving. He'll eat any kind of egg. He is a fox after all.)

WWX channels a small spark of qi into the egg, hoping to boil it to perfection before gobbling it up in one go. 

The egg starts to crack. 

WWX quirks a brow. He wasn't expecting that at all. Did he underestimate his strength? Is he scrambling his eggy by mistake? He passes a smaller, tamer amount of energy into the egg.

The egg cracks some more.

WWX contemplates scarfing his snack down as-is, but something tells him not to. This strange feeling in his gut… He's never eaten a glowing egg before, but it looks like it might give him indigestion. Besides, he feels...oddly protective of it, considering how annoyed he is about its existence.

While WWX navigates his inner turmoil, the egg's shell shatters. A blinding light floods the room. WWX hisses in shock, dropping the egg's remains to the ground. 

A moment later, the remains move. Something rams into his boot.

He stares down at it.

A little noodle blinks up at him. It lets out a small, shrill chirp. Foxxian's eyes widen. 

Oh no. 

Oh no, the egg turned into a dragon! He almost ate a dragon! WWX feels ill. He retches a little and the noodle copies him, shrieking happily into the air.

Hastily, he picks the noodle up. If anyone hears a baby screaming, they'll come in and find him! Here! In LWJ's room, totally not attempting to eat one of the Lans' young!

WWX gently rocks the baby in his arms, hoping to soothe it.

Wwx: Hush little eggy. Babies are meant to be quiet, you know.

Eggy: 💬🗯️🗯️🗯️

WWX shushes the noodle again, holding it tightly. He was so sure he could gaslight the little dragon, too. Turns out noodle babies are smart - they know children exist to yell.

Now he understands why LWJ was so focused on it. He must have been babysitting for a relative, concerned they'd miss their eggy's Very LOUD birth. Then the eggy would drive the entirety of CR insane with their cries! It's all very much against the rules.

He sighs. Poor LWJ. WWX doesn't think he would handle this situation very well. He doesn't even like it when WWX talks slightly above normal volume. How on earth would he deal with a baby dragon? Especially when baby dragons apparently sound very much like screaming fox kits... Who knew?

WWX thinks for a moment, bouncing the newborn noodle in his arms. The best course of action, he decides, is to leave LWJ's home and pretend he knows nothing about the baby. At all. The egg was obviously due soon, anyway. As soon as someone hears the crying, they'll certainly come to collect the little screamer.

The noodle lets out a contented sigh, its eyes fluttering shut as WWX rocks it. Soon, a soft purring can be heard from its throat. WWX was not aware dragons could purr. Does LWJ purr? Can WWX make him purr?

He shakes his head to clear it. He simply cannot stay. If LWJ ever found out WWX tried to eat a dragon youngling out of spite, he'd never speak to him again.

He places the now-quiet noodle back on the bed, and turns to leave. As he walks away, he feels something constrict around his calf. WWX glances down to see the baby noodle has wrapped itself around his leg. It opens its little snout and lets out a cute hiss. WWX steadfastly refuses to melt. He needs to leave! Not coo over the thought of a whole batch of baby dragons slithering around in a group. 

Where would he even get a whole bunch of baby noodles from? Who would put him in charge of them? Silly Foxxian!

Gently, he coaxes the noodle off his leg. It latches onto his wrist. He pulls it off his wrist. It whines and slithers around the length of his index finger.

WWX's having a really bad time. Why are little noodles so hard to leave? He feels like crying. 😭

Suddenly, the door to the house slides open. WWX's heart rate picks up.

It's LWJ.

LWJ is looking at him with wide, shocked eyes. WWX has clearly lingered too long. He's been caught noodle-fingered!

Wwx: It's not what you think!

Lwj: It's not.

Lwj (internally): weiyingbabydaddyweiyingbabydaddyweiyingbabydaddyweiyin-

WWX holds up the finger with the noodle on it.

Wwx: I was not trying to eat this noodle!

Eggy: 🗯️🗯️🗯️

Lwj: ...

Lwj (internally): -gbabydaddy... Why does he keep trying to eat our children?!

Lwj: Why do you keep trying to eat our children?

Wwx: ...Our what?

Lwj: The dragon in your hands. Eggs only hatch when fertilised with their father's qi.

Wwx: 😳 ...Okay, that one's on me, but our what?

Lwj: WY, you caused me to lay that egg. It is our egg.

WWX looks at the noodle. He looks to LWJ. He looks back to the noodle. He recalls.

WWX stands inhumanly still, horrified.

Wwx (whispered): I tried to eat our child...

Eggy: 🗯️🗯️🗯️

He holds his little noodle close.

Wwx: No, no, Eggy. Father will protect you forever.

Eggy: 🗯️🗯️🗯️

(The noodle is getting a little impatient. It wants to go to its other parent, but WWX isn't carrying it, and it's so smol. It cannot reach its baba. 😭)

The noodle nips WWX on the finger. He flinches. It shrieks in his face, glowering.

WWX melts.

Wwx: 😻 Aw, just as grumpy as your mother. Just as pretty too! 💖

Lwj: ...

Lwj (internally): 😳🗯️🗯️🗯️🗯️🗯️🗯️🗯️🗯️🗯️

Lwj: ...We are not calling our child 'Eggy'.

WWX saunters close enough for the noodle to fling itself up on LWJ's chest. (At last! Egg Parent is soft and warm!) He grins.

Wwx: Why not? It's cute.

Lwj: ...I will fight you.

WWX nudges him playfully.

Wwx: Come on. You can name the next one~

LWJ's eyes widen.

Lwj: The next-?! Shameless!

WWX bursts into laughter.

Wwx: You're the one who gave birth to our child in public. Do you really have the face to call me that?

LWJ glowers at him, much like the noodle had, causing WWX to break into a greater fit of hysterics.

Lwj (muttered): See if I ever let you touch my eggs again...

Wwx: Huh?

Lwj: I said 🗯️🗯️🗯️

WWX is both blown away and intrigued by the interesting noises Lan er gongzi can make when he's not hellbent on being quiet...

He smiles slowly, confident he'll have time to investigate the matter on a much more intimate level later. After all, LWJ and he have an Eggy to raise! He's sure he can wear his little dragon down with his fox charms eventually.

A perfect future in sight, WWX scritches under Eggy's chin fondly.

Wwx: What a good boy. Daddy would never eat you.

Lwj: 😳😳

Lwj: ...Do not spoil him.

WWX grins. He reaches out to scritch under LWJ's chin, as well.

Wwx: LZ is also a good boy. ...Daddy promises to eat you vigorously, whenever you want. 😏

Lwj: 🥺😡Wei Ying!!!

----

LQR suffers immensely upon marrying that hooligan fox into his family.

He suffers significantly less when covered in babies.

----

Wangxian go on to hatch eleven siblings for Eggy (A-Yuan) in quick succession, making a neat dozen. It's the largest number of noodles any dragon has ever birthed in written history.

----

After the birth of their third child, LWJ publishes a thesis on the benefits of pre-fertilising eggs before they're laid, by integrating mammalian conception techniques into brooding.

His brother can't look him in the eye for at least a year after (about as long as it takes for the pre-fertilised egg to come out fully boiled). There are some things LXC truly...did not need to know about his brother's body (more specifically, how it reacts to the body of his BIL).

Much as with his uncle, the baby noodles ease his suffering.

----

A-Yuan's parents manage to embarrass him very much without permanently scarring him. He looks back on his childhood fondly.

He also decides to never lay a single egg in his entire life (nor have one laid for him). His parents accept this stance wholeheartedly. To dissuade LQR from pestering their baby boy, Wangxian get to work on creating another noodle.

----

The dragons go from a near-endangered species to populous over the course of a century, at which point Wangxian decide to take a break from baby making to travel the rest of the world.

Uncle Qiren is most upset about this sudden deviation from new babies for him. He cries into the mane of his youngest niece (who is just slightly too big to be a lapnoodle).

He gets over the disappointment eventually.

----

They all live happily, and live well.

----

BONUS:

Lan disciples upon seeing LWJ with an egg: Wow, who would have thought LWJ was such a loose slut?

Guest disciples upon seeing LWJ with an egg: ...Weird. Is it a cultivation thing?

WWX in the exact same situation: The egg. 😡 Has. 😡 MY. 😡 Attention. 🤬🤬 I wILl EaT iT!!!

----

Additional thought: LWJ wanted his mother to be there with him to witness the laying of his first egg, stroking his hair and speaking soft words into his ear. He got the fast food experience of birth instead.

----

I don't care what anyone says. This is my masterpiece.

I'm going to order some takeout now because I can't stop thinking about egg noodles. 🍜 (I don't know who needs to hear this, but you also deserve some noodles today. Go get them. Do it. As a treat.)

[duhragonball]

Super Dragon Ball Heroes Episode 50

The finale of the Supreme Kai of Time arc finally came out a few weeks ago, so let's wrap up my liveblog of it.

Just so we're all up to speed, I covered Episodes 41 through 49 here , here, and here. But if you're not in the mood to read that: this arc introduces Aeos, the previous Supreme Kai of Time, who has now returned to take back the position from Chronoa. Aeos believes that there are too many alternate timelines now, and Chronoa's refusal to deal with them has only made things worse, so Aeos and her four attendants take over the Time Nest to resolve the problem instead. Aeos's solution is to hold a big tournament with warriors from different timelines, and the losing teams get their timeline erased.

This all gets thrown into chaos when Demigra shows up, having recently gained a power boost from the Dark King energy once held by Fu. I'm not sure if this was just a coincidence, or if Demigra somehow manipulated the Aeos/Chronoa dispute to his advantage. Anyway, he tries to seize control of the Time Nest and destroy all the fighters who oppose him, which culminates in this climactic beam struggle against Goku, Bardock, and Future Gohan.

Just so we're clear, the Bardock and Future Gohan we see here are variants from other timelines, recruited by Aeos to serve as her attendants. Bardock was the "Hooded Saiyan" who occasionally helped Goku during the previous arc. Gohan hails from a world where Trunks died fighting 17 and 18, while he survived.

Anyway, the Father-Son-Grandson Kamehameha ends with Bardock daring the boys to push even harder, which leads to Bardock turning SSJ4, Goku going Ultra Instinct (again), and Gohan turning SSJ2. This overwhelms Demigra and he dies.

However, before Demigra is beaten, Aeos and Chronoa have this nice little reconciliation where Aeos points out that Demigra only got this far because of the multitude of alternate timelines. Even if he's defeated, some other menace will just rise up to replace him. She asks Chronoa how she can continue to support sparing the timelines if this is true, and Chronoa replies that a lot of good has come from the alternate timelines as well, and she's willing to trust the heroes to rise to the occasion. Then they hold hands and do some sort of time stuff, which might have helped tip the scales against Demigra, but I don't know. When it's all over, they use the Scroll of Eternity to restore everything to the way it was before Demigra attacked.

Goku is satisfied with this outcome, but he has one last bit of business to discuss with Aeos: Goku wants the Super Space-Time Tournament to be restarted, since he never got to finish his match with Xeno Goku earlier in the arc. Aeos agrees, and this time it's just an exhibition, with the fighters who still want to fight having 1v1 matches with no brackets.

We get some brief glimpses of the other matches, like Piccolo vs. Pikkon, Master Roshi vs. Grandpa Gohan, and so on, but none of these amount to anything. This episode spent a decent two minutes re-telling the beam struggle from Episode 49, which could have been used to show a little more of the cool fights they teased instead.

Credit where it's due, Goku vs. Xeno Goku actually gets some time, and there's some cool spots, like SSJ4 Goku trying to use a Warp Kamehameha on UI Goku, only for UI to try to float over to avoid it. Then 4ku snares him with his tail, but UI-ku is still too nimble to be trapped for long.

As everyone watches, Aoes reflects on how Goku impressed her, and I think the implication is that Goku's the one who convinced her not to erase the other timelines, at least for the time being. Then there's a credits sequence, like this is a big finale, but it's not.

They do the finish of the Goku/Vegeta fight from DBS: Super Hero, and it's UI Goku who wins. Sound booking, but I wish they could have come up with a different way to end it. I mean, Aeos's tournament was already a rip-off of the Tournament of Power, and Demigra's invasion was just a retread of his invasion in Xenoverse 1, and now this. It's tough to find anything really fresh in this story.

With the match settled, Aeos announces that she'll be leaving again to survey the alternate timelines for herself. She says she wants to re-check everything to re-evaluate her decision, and warns Chronoa that if she finds she had it right the first time, she'll be back to erase everything like she intended. Chronoa seems to accept this. Maybe she's confident that Aeos will see things her way, or maybe it's just that Chronoa has no choice. This arc suggests that Chronoa cannot, or will not, challenge Aeos' authority. I guess with Aeos leaving, Chronoa is reinstated as Supreme Kai of Time, but they never explained why Aeos left the job in the first place, or what claim she had to take it back. There's a lot of unanswered questions in all of this.

Aeos's four attendants will be joining her on her new mission, including Vidros, who proposed to Yamcha during the tournament. So what about that? Well, it turns out Vidros can't marry Yamcha right away. Her people have a tradition that says she can't marry until she reaches a certain age, which is still a dozen centuries away. So she intends to go with Aeos and return for Yamcha 1200 years from now. D'oh!

This did not go over well with the fandom, who were pretty hyped for the idea of Yamcha getting the girl. I think we all knew that there'd be some kind of catch. They weren't going to marry off an established character in a web series for crying out loud. I choose to look at this in a positive light. Yamcha's still got a fiance. And just because she has to wait 1200 years doesn't mean that he has to wait the same amount of time. Aeos might do her a solid and bring her back to the present day so she can still marry Yamcha during his natural lifespan.

At least Vidros had some sort of character arc in this story. I have no idea what this alternate version of Piccolo was supposed to be about. He just shares some meaningful looks with Gohan and that's it. Future Gohan says goodbye to Xeno Trunks, Bardock takes a last look at his son, and they all head out.

I seriously wondered if Episode 50 was going to be the finale for the entire web-series, since this arc seemed to wrap up the last plot threads of the whole show. Most of SDBH was about Fu's rise to prominence, and then he got defeated with the help of Demigra and Aeos's team, who settled all of their business in this arc. So this seemed like a pretty good stopping point, but no. There's an Episode 51, which promises a whole new arc that will probably take another two years to finish. I guess Super Dragon Ball Heroes will be around for a while longer.

And I'll probably cover those future story arcs one of these days, but this seems like a good place to stop for now. It's a lot more satisfying to watch this show several episodes at a time, and it'll be at least a year before we're far enough along to make this worth my time. But we'll see how it goes.

[corviids]

No because they’re trying to make some of these people not have flaws or empathize with them at the cost of others Character development.

Also question for Misty Dream and Flesh without blood, could the Dance happen between Aenys and Saera?

yeah tbh my biggest issues are with rhaenyra and daemon because a huge aspect of book!rhaenyra’s character is that she IS spoiled and entitled – hell her dragon is called the spoiled princess (if i remember correctly). in fire & blood, it is basically jace, corlys, and daemon doing all the planning and fighting while rhaenyra is more of a figure head and tbh doesn’t do anything beside take over kings landing while aemond is gone and aegon is incapacitated. and no offense to matt smith but he and the writers didn’t really sell the fact that daemon very clearly in the book still has a massive craving for the throne as he always has.

the dance is called a war of succession between rhaenyra and aegon, but neither of them (save for aegon at rooks nest) DOES any fighting. they have everyone else fighting and strategizing. by making show!rhaenyra so…. girlbossy, it strips her of what made her a genuinely compelling character and makes so much of the dance not make sense thematically. book!rhaenyra is not an anthesis to alicent – they are BOTH women willing to uphold patriarchal norms for what they want, whereas the women around them are the actual ones challenging things (johanna lannister, jeyne arryn, every lady that became regent for their infant sons). book!rhaenyra is not very likable because she does screw many people over for her own selfish desires. if the show runners wanted to make rhaenyra more likable or whatever, i think they should’ve made her go through an arc of realizing she actually wants to fight for the throne – make her go from a spoiled, sheltered girl that got everything she wanted to a woman that is forced to fight for what is rightfully hers. but in the show, the made young rhaenyra far too likable which makes her character arc kinda static.

it’s kinda like what i said in a previous post: i can’t see the characters in hotd doing what they do in the books because they didn’t establish their natures pre-dance. like hotd rhaenyra seems FAR too level headed to arrest and try to execute members of house velaryon bc her paranoia.

i could ramble about this forever but tldr: in their quest to make characters have no unlikable traits, the writers have given themselves a steep hill to climb to justify future events without giving the viewers whiplash and i don’t know how much faith i have that they’ll pull it off

(i will answer the other question in a separate post cuz i rambled lol sorry )

[notmaplemable]

Of Birds and Knights

Back in September I made a short joke about Ruby being a bird faunus and doing a mating dance to get Jaune's attention. In that time I've wrote out a little longer version of the story.

I'd like to thank @thatorigamiguy and @howlingday for adding some pretty great reblogs which really expanded the story of that original post. And of course inspiring me to make this.

So enjoy 3170 unedited words worth of me trying to be funny. It didn't work.

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Ruby Rose was a bird faunus. Well, a hooded crow faunus if one wanted to be specific. Which wasn’t too bad. She got some cool wings and a tail with black and red tipped feathers. Which, yes, she could use to fly sometimes. She could whistle like a champ, and she could sing pretty well too. If one were so fortunate to catch her doing so. She’ll even coo if someone ran their hand through her hair, but she’ll take that secret to her grave.

Sure, there were some people who were a bit mean to her. Washing her wings could be a pain, sometimes literally. And having people come up to her asking for her to shake her tail feathers was a bit weird.

But overall, it wasn’t too bad to be a bird faunus. So, why was Ruby pacing on one of Beacon’s rooftops one morning?

Well, you see, she was having these dreams. No, no, no! Not those kind of dreams. Nothing filthy or anything like that. So, if they weren’t filthy then why were they such a concern to the girl? Well, the best way to explain would be to recount one of these dreams.

They would usually start with Ruby building a nest. Running around looking for cool sticks. Finding nice bits of, usually red, fabric to add. Putting in a few shiny things to bring it all together. Adding some pillows and blankets for some extra comfort. Completely normal things that she was sure every girl dreamed of!

Then he would show up and make it all weird.

The “he” being Beacon’s resident blond knight to be, and Ruby’s best boy friend, Jaune Arc.

At first, he would just lay down beside her. Then they would start touching each other. Cuddling, He would even pat Ruby’s head. Then they would start kissing and holding hands. Okay so maybe her dreams were filthy, but only a little bit.

As you can imagine, Ruby was a mess after she had this dream. She couldn’t even look at Jaune for most of that day without becoming a blushing mess. Much to Jaune’s confusion. Which didn’t go unnoticed by a certain sunny dragon.

The teasing. Oh gods, the teasing. It was merciless.

But eventually Ruby did get over her embarrassment. That was until she had the exact same dream that night, and for every night over the last few weeks.

Which brings us back to Ruby’s current crisis. Why was she having these dreams? For the first week the answer alluded her, but now it was clear as day. Even to someone as usually uninterested in the topic as Ruby.

Ruby Rose had a crush on Jaune Arc, and she had no idea what to do about it. She couldn’t ask Yang, for reasons that should be fairly obvious. Weiss… well she would just insult Jaune instead of helping. Blake would probably say to do something lewd. Nora had her own boy problems to overcome. And Pyrrha… well she wasn’t an option.

Ruby sat on the edge of the roof wondering what she was going to do. This wasn’t exactly her area of expertise. Why couldn’t this be simple, like making a weapon? Actually, maybe she could forge Jaune a sword? A dagger, maybe? Or maybe a sword that turned into a sniper and a rocket launcher! See that was simple. Love, not so much.

She stared down at the park her metaphorical perch overlooked.

Maybe she could bake him some cookies? Yeah, that was a good idea. Special “Will you pretty please go on a date with me” cookies. It just might work. But what kind of cookie did Jaune like? She couldn’t just make any type of cookie for him. It would have to be a type he loved. Nothing less would be acceptable.

But she couldn’t just go up to him and ask. “Hey Jaune, what kind of cookie do you love so much that you would fall in love with the girl who made them for you?” No, she would have to do some reconnaissance. Be all sneaky like. Maybe Blake could help her with that? She can be pretty sneaky when she wanted to be.

It was then that Ruby noticed something. The object of her current crisis, and affections, sitting on a bench below her. Feeding the birds. Spreading out bit of corn for the pigeons when he should be feeding Ruby corn!

Getting over her momentary corn-based jealousy, which is a normal feeling that normal people have, she came to a realization. Now would be the perfect time for some spying. She would just need to use a little trick that her father had taught her.

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

Jaune had just sit down in his favorite spot. It was in a quiet corner of Beacon’s courtyard. A few trees providing some nice shade. Though surprisingly few people came to this section. Which Jaune was more than happy to take advantage of. It was nice to have a quiet corner all to himself.

Sometimes it was hard to find some peace and quiet in his dorm. Nora would usually make sure of that. Jaune had come to see the energetic young girl as a true friend, but man, could she be a handful sometimes. He had no idea how Ren handled her. That man had the patience of several saints.

Even Pyrrha could be a bit distracting at times. Jaune understood that she liked to sleep naked. It can get pretty hot in those rooms sometimes. Really it wouldn’t be a problem if she didn’t toss and turn so much in her sleep, which would mean that her blanket usually ended up in the floor instead of covering her.

Which made it pretty hard for Jaune to get things done while she was taking a nap. Which she started taking a lot more of lately. How strange.

Jaune stared up at the sky for a few moments after taking a seat. It had been an interesting few months since he arrived at Beacon. He’d made some good friends. Killed a few grimm. Nobody knew about his transcripts besides his partner and Cardin. And he managed to not die yet. It was going great.

But it was stressful as hell.

Which is why he’d made a habit of coming out here to feed the birds, speaking of. Jaune pulled out a brown paper bag containing bits of dried corn and scattered them on the ground. And soon his feathered friends appeared. Well, most of them at least.

Ruby was probably off doing something with her team. He wouldn’t have minded her company. She always had a way of making things make sense for Jaune. Even if half of what she talked about involved pointy things or things exploding.

It was then that a bird perched itself on the bench next to Jaune. To say it wasn’t like the others was a bit of an understatement. Well for one, it was a crow. Second being its coloration. With black feathers that became red at the tips. Almost like Ruby’s actually. Well, isn’t that neat. Lastly it was staring at him. Not at the food, but at him. With little silver eyes.

Jaune did what he usually did with the birds. Offered some food. “Want some food, buddy.” He said to the crow before throwing another handful of corn onto the ground. Which the crow responded to with a quick caw and walking closer to Jaune. Eventually crawling up onto his lap.

“Do you want to be hand fed?” Jaune asked the crow, holding out another handful of corn. To which the crow responded with another caw before staring to peck at the corn kernels in his hand. He sat and watched the crow for a minute. It was strangely familiar.

“You know little guy, you kind of remind me of my friend Ruby.” He said, because normal people talk to strange birds, “Or well, I guess your coloration does. Black feathers with red tips. At least that’s what she has on her tail feathers. I’ve never actually seen her wings, but I would guess they have the same pattern.”

The crow stopped eating and returned to staring at Jaune as he carried on his rambling.

“Which I get. I mean with people like Cardin around it’s not she can go around just displaying them, but I guess it’s a bit weird not to have seen them. I don’t know. I bet they would be pretty, though. Well, she’s already pretty so I guess that would just make her prettier. Does that make sense?” He asked the crow.

The crow didn’t respond this time. Simply continuing to stare at Jaune.

“Guess it doesn’t really make-“ Jaune was interrupted by his scroll buzzing. “What is it this time. ‘Nora found the sap. All over the dorm.’ Welp, better go sort that out. See you later Red? Can I call you that?”

The crow again responded with a caw as Jaune sat up to leave. The crow standing on the back of the bench watching him go.

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

Ruby, still perched on the bench, watched Jaune walk away before flying back to her previous spot on the roof. She transformed back into her regular form and started pacing on the roof again.

“He said I was pretty,” She said still pacing back and forth, “Not cute. Not adorable. Pretty.”

Oh, Ruby was in trouble. Her plan had pretty much failed. She learned nothing about the kind of cookies he liked and just ended up all flustered.

“What am I going to do,” She said laying down on the rough surface of the roof, “Why can’t this just be easy. Why can’t I just say that I like him!” She screamed towards the heavens. No, it can’t just be that simple. She had to do something to make him notice her. To make him want to ask her out. That would be so much easier, but what?

She laid there thinking. “It has to be something that’ll work fast. Something awesome. Something that’ll make me irresistible.” She needed something. Anything! If only she had someone, she could ask that would actually be helpful. “If only…”

She paused. Maybe she did have someone that could help her. Someone that always gave her good advice. But asking her would be a drastic measure, but Ruby couldn’t risk Jaune falling for Pyrrha while Ruby was indecisive.

No, now was the time for drastic measures. So, Ruby would bring out the big guns.

She’d call her mom and ask for her advice. “Sorry Pyrrha,” Ruby said bringing up her mom’s number on her contact list “But that Arc booty is mine!”

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

Summer was enjoying the cool morning air while tending to her garden. She was still getting use to Yang and Ruby being gone, but she was getting through the days just fine.

Maybe she should start taking on missions again? Ozpin would probably be happy to have her back in the field. Though Qrow would probably have a much less positive reaction. Considering how close her last mission came to being the end of Summer Rose.

Summer’s scroll started to buzz. “It’s Ruby,” She said looking at the caller ID. “Hopefully RWBY isn’t in trouble again.” She said to herself before answering the call. “Hello Ruby.”

“Hi Mom,” Ruby said, “Do you have a minute to talk? I kind of need your help with something.”

“I’m just doing a little gardening, so I’ve got time to chat. What do you need help with?”

Ruby started fidgeting and rubbing her fingers against her cloak. A little nervous habit she picked up from her father. “Well, you see I… Well, I umm… I kind of…” She trailed off.

Oh, she was definitely nervous about something, but not the same kind of nervous she was when her team got up to something dangerous. She usually only acted like this when Yang would tease her about getting a boyfriend.

Wait, Summer’s mother senses were tingling and more importantly her grandmother senses! It was finally happening. Ruby likes a boy!

“You need help with a boy, don’t you?” Summer said, holding back her excitement for the moment.

“…Yes.” Ruby said sporting a healthy blush.

“Who is it, honey? That nice boy you met on your first day?” Summer said.

“Yeah, it’s Jaune.”

Jaune, from what Summer had heard about Ruby’s fellow team leader he was a perfect gentleman, if not that great of a fighter. Helping Ruby out on her first day like that. Almost like Qrow did with Summer all those years ago. And the fact that Summer was good friends with Jaune’s mother helped. Though it was a shame that they never had the opportunity to meet before they both went off to Beacon.

“Well, why don’t you tell me why you like him, rosebud.” Summer said, more than happy to do a little motherly snooping.

“Well, he’s really kind, and brave. He fought an ursa by himself once.” Ruby said in what was the beginning of what Summer sensed would be a long ramble. “He likes all the same comics I do. We play games together and stuff. He always helps me with my work for our leadership class. He doesn’t zone out when I talk about weapons, and he actually asks questions. He pays attention! And, well umm…” Ruby paused with her blush deepening.

“Go on.” Summer said. Trying to encourage her daughter.

“Well… he has a nice butt.”

That earned a rather hardy snort laugh out of Summer, and a rather disgruntled “Mom,” out of Ruby.

“Sorry dear,” Summer said wiping a tear from her eye, “Like mother like daughter, I guess. So, I’m guessing you called to ask for some advice?”

“Yeah, what am I supposed to do. Ask him out? I’d probably just end up running away if I tried.” Ruby said with a defeated look on her face.

“Honestly Ruby, I don’t know if I can really help you there. I spend three years following your father around before he noticed me. I wasn’t the one to ask him out.”

“Well, he definitely isn’t going to notice me. Pyrrha’s had a huge crush on him all year and if he doesn’t notice her… I don’t like my chances.”

“You’ll just have to do something to make him notice. That’s what I did.”

Ruby quirked an eyebrow “What did you do to make dad notice?”

“Well, you see, I did a mating dance.”

“A mating dance?”

“Yeah, since your father is a bird faunus I figured it would make him do, something. Either he would ask me out or he would turn me down, both were better options than me just pining after, and eventually losing, him.”

“That… That might work.” Ruby muttered to herself.

“What was that, dear. I couldn’t hear you.”

“Oh, I said thanks mom. I think I have an idea of what I should do now.”

“Well, that’s great. I hope it goes well, rosebud!”

“Thanks mom, I’ll talk to you later.”

And with that Ruby had a plan. To do a mating dance for Jaune. If she could work up the courage to try it that is.

If only love could be simple.

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

Today was the day. Either Ruby and Jaune would be dating after this, or they would just be best friends, but Ruby wouldn’t just let nothing happen. Or take the chance that Pyrrha wouldn’t make a move eventually. Nope. Today was the day.

So today Ruby was sitting on the bench that Jaune usually did when he fed the birds. Waiting for him to come. It wasn’t quite as private of a place as Ruby would have liked it to be, but it was about as private as she was going to get. So, there she waited until eventually her knight made an appearance.

“Ruby?” Jaune said surprised that anyone knew about his spot, “What are you doing out here? Don’t you usually spar with Weiss this time of day?”

“Yeah, usually.” She said, standing from the bench taking one last deep breath. “But I have something I want to show you. Something special.”

“Really? What is it?” He said.

It was now or never.

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

Jaune was surprised when he found Ruby out here by herself. He was more surprised when she said she had something to show him. And even more so when she unfolded her wings in front of him. He’d admittedly never seen her wings, but he had to say they were quite beautiful.

When Ruby started dancing well Jaune was figuratively, and almost literally, knocked off his feet. First by the fact that it was Ruby of all people dancing. She rarely put herself front and center.

Second being the fluidity of her dance. Her movements fine and controlled as she spun and weaved her way around him. Her wings hiding and revealing parts of her as she moved. Her tailfeathers and hips moving side to side rhythmically. It was really quite something. And Jaune was mesmerized by it.

And lastly, a fact that became more and more apparent as she danced closer, was that she was dancing for him. Jaune couldn’t do or say anything. He was simply overwhelmed by that fact. A pretty girl was dancing for him. His best friend, or perhaps they were more than that?

Finally, Ruby’s dance came to an end as she wrapped Jaune in her wings and looked into his eyes. Her face was as red as her cloak, she was breathing hard, but there was determination in her beautiful silver eyes. “So, did you like my mating dance.” She asked.

“Mating dance?” He said quirking his head to the side. Mating dance. So did that mean she wanted to… “Wait, does that mean you want me to be your mate?”

“Yeah! Though you can say we’re boyfriend and girlfriend if you prefer that.” She said still staring into his eyes.

She wanted to be his girlfriend. She wanted him to be his boyfriend. Or mates, or whatever.

“…Yes, I’ll be your mate.”

“Really!” She said with a squeak.

“Yeah,” he said wrapping his arms around her waist.

“Great.” She said laying her head against his chest. “Well, as my boyfriend do you think you could do a little favor for me?”

“Sure, what do you need?”

“Can you carry me back to my room,” She said her face turning several shades redder, “That was actually really, really, really, embarrassing.”

So, with that Jaune picked up his new “mate” and they headed off to her room.

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Jaune and Ruby laid in their “nest”, the nest being Ruby’s bed with a ring of blankets and pillows around them. Ruby was fast asleep cuddled up next to Jaune. Softly cooing as he ran his fingers through her feather soft hair.

This wasn’t exactly how Jaune thought he would get his first girlfriend, but he couldn’t say that he would have it any other way.

[phoenix-manga]

Heartslabyul Arc Team

Meganium ♀

“Mind helping me with this garden? We need to stock up on more berries this month”

Moves: Nature Power, Strength, Poison Powder, Magical Leaf

Ability: Leaf Guard

· Meganium is a motherly type of Pokémon, she looks after the group during travels. She is quite social with other people and easily warms up to almost anyone. It’s not impossible to think that the Pokémon was too nice to get angry.

· There have been occasions where Meganium got mad but it only happened twice. Usually, she would shield whoever made her friends upset from the one responsible.

· Meganium absolutely adores a well-cared-for garden. She will aid in breathing life into dead plants if she can. She can be seen with Haxorus and Aggron enjoying themselves in the garden.

· Phoebe received her as a Chikorita from Professor Elm as a gift for her journey. Chikorita and Furret got along quite well along their journey throughout Johto.

Swablu ♂

“Get off Ace’s head, I know it looks like a nest but it’s rude to invade personal space you know!”

Moves: Safeguard, Dragon Breath, Steel Wing, Aerial Ace

Ability: Natural Cure

⊖ He is a neat-freak of a puffball that loves to nest in Ace’s hair for some reason. Swablu is also adorably diligent, always cleaning away at anything and anyone who has a bit of dirt. Though he can’t tolerate a messy person and would peck them relentlessly until they clean their mess.

⊖ Swablu doesn’t mind also letting people sleep on his wings, though Phoebe’s permission would be required if someone wanted to borrow him to sleep on.

⊖ Phoebe always wanted a Swablu ever since she took a look at the Hoenn Pokédex. She just had to have one. Plus, Swablu’s wings are often stuffed with all food. The Pokémon tends to keep berries in there a lot, either for others or for himself.

Aggron ♂

“You want to see the flowers again? I’ll see if Riddle can let you see the roses again”

Moves: Metal Claw, Iron Defense, Dig, Reversal

Ability: Sturdy

⊖ Phoebe rescued this Pokémon from a trainer who abused him for being too soft-hearted. The trainer had his other two Pokémon bully him so bad that there were scars on the metal body.

⊖ Phoebe challenged him for the ownership of Aggron with Officer Jenny as a witness. She won though he was quite tough to beat she was determined not to let Aggron suffer under the hands of this trainer any longer.

⊖ Aggron took a while before he willingly stepped into battles again, he’s more on the defensive. He often helps out Phoebe in setting up camp and even foraging for edible food.

⊖ Aggron loves flowers, their pretty colors are mesmerizing to him, his old trainer would trample on them if he was seen holding even one. But Phoebe thinks it’s cute and would let him sit and enjoy what he does.

Smeargle ♂

“I knew I’d find you here! Are you making food in the kitchen again? Finished painting?”

Moves: Sketch

Ability: Own Tempo

⊖ Smeargle is a Pokémon who appreciates all forms of art. But this Smeargle grew up in the wild looking at the chefs at work through a window before he was caught by Phoebe.

⊖ He is quite eccentric, his sense of smell might not be as good as a Slurpuff’s but he does have an eye for quality. And he can mimic any chef’s cooking technique by watching them once, so he tends to watch a lot of cooking shows whenever he gets the chance.

⊖ There needs to be a rule in the kitchen is that you finish Smeargle’s food and say “Thank You”. If you can’t finish it then you must be equipped with Tupperware. Otherwise, you’re getting your face drawn on by an angry dog Picasso.

Ditto

“You know I can tell which shape you are right now, right? Get over here, you little bugger!”

Moves: Transform

Ability: Imposter

⊖ Phoebe found a wild Ditto that just wanted a place to belong to. But the way they go about it is to disguise it as an item and transform it in front of the person to try and convince that person to adopt them.

⊖ This tends to backfire because people get angry when Ditto does this and gets chased out. Phoebe is the first one to offer them kindness and the Pokémon decided to stay with her.

⊖ They still have the cheeky tendency to pretend to be objects, but Phoebe has spent enough time with Ditto to know their disguise from one look.

[ilikeyoubetterthisway]

Bring Karura BACK!!

Hellooooo.

Here I will just quickly (not really), explain a bit of my theories about the manga regarding Ryuuji and Karura, along with the rest of the Immortals, and what I'm expecting/hoping to happen for the rest of the war arc and other tidbits I found laying around.

Enjoy!!

First of all I want Ryuuji to be able to summon Karura, they literally have Tatsuma and Gozo discussing about the possibility of summoning him back from the vessel of forced possesion (aka. Todou).

Like, they wouldn't just hint at this possibility and then not doing it in the future, and even more now that they are in the middle of a war against very strong forces.

They are talking about summoning him back, but there's no need since Ryuuji still has his contract on going.

We have been drilled into our heads of the outstanding regenerative powers of Karura by Todou not shutting his mouth about it during the Kyoto Arc, so I would guess he (Karura), would be able to easily come back from dying and being used as a lab rat for the elixir that helped to perfect Satan's cloned body.

This could also be followed by his similar demon kind used for the same experiment, the Ouroboros and Hydra, since they are also creatures/demons of regenerative abilities that represent death and rebirth, destruction and creation. (And we also know that the more powerful the demon, the faster it can regenerate, like how it took Lucifer a few hours to return from being destroyed during the Blue Night, it could also apply to the Immortals but would take a bit longer).

According to the legends:

Phoenix: (Karura) A fire bird that arises from the ashes of his own predecesors. Death and rebirth. A cyclical life.

Hydra: (Hachirotaro) A water and wind snake/dragon that regenerates its head by double every time one gets cut down. Death and rebirth. A ciclical life.

Ouroboros: An (earth??) serpent reptile that eats its own tail, continually eating itself and being reborn from itself. Death and rebirth. A ciclical life.

Anyways, I want Ryuuji to summon Karura back because he never frickin broke the aeon wave flame contract with him and he was also the last one to have an actual, valid contract, since Tatsuma clearly passed it down to Ryuuji (1), (2), and he explicitly said after, that his contract with Karura was broken (3).

While with Ryuuji, he simply fainted from exhaustion during the Impure King battle, but it was never declared that their contract broke or was annuled in some way.

Like, just how it happened during the Kyoto Arc, Karura divided himself into two beings, one with Todou and the other one with Ryuuji, and thus the elixir experiment being succesful means that Todou and the other chosen ones died along with the immortal demons. A part of Karura died but the other part still lives inside Ryuuji.

That means that the forced possesion with Todou and all the other guys was broken and they can go to being independent but Karura would go back to Ryuuji since their contract was never broken.

And he would go back to him on full power too, because if you remember when he split up, Tatsuma had already broken/lost the generational contract with the head priest of Myo Da but still had his personal one between himself (Tatsuma Suguro) and Karura (the aeon wave flame contract). What Ryuuji "inherited" was the smaller and younger (time wise) contract of Tatsuma and Karura, thus that's why Karura was so smol and cute and nesting on top of Ryuuji's head agh the cutie bean.

Meanwhile, what Todou devored and then proceeded to force bodily possession on himself, was the larger, oldest self of Karura that was in the contract (now broken), between the head priest of Myo Da and Karura.

Karura told Tatsuma that their generational contract was broken because Mamushi, Rin, Todou and many people learned about it but Tatsuma told him that the personal one was still standing. Karura was just like "fine" but his body stayed the same, it didn't diminish in size or anything, until Todou devoured the available part of Karura (the generational contract).

I do believe that a generational contract has more power than a one life time contract but at this point it just depends on the different amounts of contracts the demon has, how many "bodies" it posesses; and if it only has one valid contract then, despite the lack of generational length of it, the full power of the demon would still go to the one active contract, which in this case would be Ryuuji's.

2. Also, we know that Karura asks in return secrets, he feeds on lies and suspicions, of making things secret.

Almost or if not all of Myo Da's secrets were revealed during the Kyoto Arc, so Ryuuji can't really feed him with that, but, he just became Lightning's apprentice which entails him to all the secrets about Section 13, the Okumura brothers, Yuri, Shiro, Mephisto, Satan, the demon kings, the Asylum, the Illuminati, the entire Order of the True Cross, etc, etc.

All that information spans at least over 16 years of secrets and lies, since the birth of the Asylum and the True Cross. Ryuuji really got hit with all that on the face in less than, what? 1 week?? four days??, that is more than enough to keep Karura satisfied for the following weeks or even months in regards to secrets.

Besides, I want to point out how when they were starting their investigation and Lightning went to question Mephisto about it on his bathtub, Mephisto was kinda going to play hard to get, but we got a few panels of him glancing towards Ryuuji and then immediately agreeing to talk. (Imean, isn't this weird? Why would he decide to spill one of his biggest secrets right after seeing the boy in the demon contract with an immortal that feeds specifically on secrets, hmmm... I wonder wHy...).

(gah, I remember reading this chapter when it came out and finding it weird that Ryuuji was focused on here and was practically the reason for Mephisto to start talking, sigh... li'l ol' me already knew there was some shady stuff happening but was too young and too early to realize it, damn. dis is some gud stuff).

(Also, poor Ryuuji, the amount of distress and torment he endured during this entire time must have been exhausting, thankfully Lightning and Izumo, along with his entire family and friends, helped him to calm down, gosh he needs a hug).

And just to finish it up with a nice touch. After telling them where to find Section 13, Mephisto says this:

._.

"Raising suspicion" ah? Dear Mephy? Because you know that someone has the immortal demon chicken that feeds on lies, suspicions and secrets?? HM??? You wanna keep him well fed ah?? I wonder for wHat specific event that may happen in the future he would come in handy... (cough the war cough if you didn't realize it already cough)

Now, I'm not sure if a few people knowing the truth would affect the amount of nice food that Karura gets, like how Uwabami and Jaozo kinda knew about some of the stuff Tatsuma was hiding, so maybe the food effect would only last up until Ryuuji, Izumo, Osceola, Lucy and Lightning saw the whole laboratory thing with Drac and showed Angel.

And also, if Karura feeds on secrets, it could also be secrets not even known to the user, like before all the Lightning stuff, in between the Kyoto Arc and the Section 13 arc, (as well as throughout the entire manga), Ryuuji was developing, harboring and realizing his feelings towards Izumo, I'm sure Karura could feed off of that too, for more simple they could be, they caused a great deal of confusion and conflict during the Illuminatic Arc right until he confessed them to Izumo, but even after that, only Izumo knows about them, is just one person, so the secret is still a secret, nobody else knows (officially), he still doesn't know if his feelings are corresponded and still feels and seems conflicted whenever Izumo gives or receives some kind of attention from another guy (Rin, Shima), all that inner turmoil, doubts and suspicions would keep Karura well fed inside Ryuuji.

3. Also, why in the universe would Kato sensei give us this big hint in the official art of the 10th anniversary with Ryuuji holding his Buddhist priest beads with red fire coming out of it for literally no reason unless is foreshadowing for something that later could be important and relevant??

(Also, look at dem ships beautifully standing one beside the other, the boy's arms holding them inside their own body frames, sighhh cuties <333)

Also, I love the fact that the three boys from the gang (sorry Koneko, you are our strategist man), have the three different flames from Gehenna and Assiah:

Ryuuji: Red Flame, Assiah's physical fire, that destroys the physical aspect of the things, the vessel of possesion or external temptaint. (Ryuuji thinks and feels too much, you know, non-tangible things, so he would have the red flames in order to balance himself out).

Shima: Black Flame, Gehenna's spiritual fire, that destroys the demon possessing the vessel while leaving the vessel intact. (Shima is all about physical desires and dreams so he needs the spiritual flame in order to balance himself out).

Rin: Blue Flame, Assiah and Gehenna's fire in one, being able to burn both the physical and non physical being. (And Rin being both human and demon has the special blue flames that are both spiritual and physical flames that also help balance himself out).

4. And continuing with the talk about the three immortal demons.

They are fire (phoenix), water (hydra) and earth (uroboros) [most likely].

We know that Ryuuji has a contract with Karura and has used him before, his powers include regenerative abilities and shields.

Yukio has some affinity in summoning water type demons (the naiads, and he just needs more confidence bc he's already able to summon eight of those things like plEase), as well as he had an almost contract with Hachirotaro himself so that could mean something you know?, his powers include hypnotic abilities, and regenerative abilities with his blood. Shura could come here and help him manage the new powers since she used them for so long and had a contract with Hachirotaro.

And I guess the earth demon, ouroboros, could only be for Shiemi..? since she's related to the earth as well, but I'm not that sure, I still need to find someone that can make that contract and find the actual demon in the manga jaja.

Maybe, they will unite, along with Mephisto's special weapon, to lower Satan's body defences, and then everyone will strike together like the good shonen manga that this is, because if Satan is defeated by the dumb Devil *star* Banisher thing that Mephisto created and the manga ends right then and there ima just gO.

Also, that thing of Satan dying thanks to Angel's Holy Light Descension is pure bs since I'm pretty sure Satan will regenerate by next chapter (what was the entire point of the immortal's regenerative powers, if not for this kind of situation?), or he will proceed to try and posess Rin because he was going to be his og vessel, anyways, this war cannot be that short, I want to see everyone participating and I hope Lucy is okey :c.

I'm not saying I want nakama power to win the big war, I want a good demonstration and participation of every member of the gang with all their new skills, abilities and powers in the final battle to see their development and growth. Gah please.

Also, please, Ryuuji, just summon Karura and kick someone's a$$ alreadyyyy ahhhhh. And I want to see my goddess Izumo perform the Metamashizume no Harai ritual again and kick some a$$ as well. Those special capes must come in handy if they keep the stamina inside the body of the individual, is different if the person was already worn out, injured and tired (like Yukio), but it could be different with someone who was pretty ok for the most part (like Ryuuji, Izumo, Koneko, etc).

Anyways, thank you so much for reading all the way here! This is all a theory and some analysis I came up with, sorry for the many paragraphs and if it's confusing as well for the weird english.

I hope you look forward for the next chapter as much as I do! :D

See ya next time~~!!

[hintsoftheredlightdistrict]

Very frustrated that I keep seeing people on here complain about 25th Bam's supposed plot armor when that's actually one of his main character flaws.

Like sure, he can withstand some attacks he shouldn't be able to, and he can punch well above his metaphorical weight class. If you're willing to read through this, I want to do my best to convince you of two things - first, that Bam has always been written with this intent in mind (i.e. that this is not a case of runaway power levels a la Dragon Ball) and second, that the themes of the story are directly served by Bam being OP (i.e. that much of the series' emotional weight is not just in spite of Bam's power, but because of it). I'll be talking about the current arc so if you care about spoilers this is your one and only warning

In order to illustrate the first point as briefly as possible, let's go over a bulleted list of some major moments in Bam's life, as well as some notes on what we can learn from these about Bam's desires and eventual conflicts.

Bam spends his early life in extreme isolation in a cave. He has one friend who occassionally visits, Rachel. As such, Bam has a strong desire for companionship and autonomy.

Rachel tells him not to leave the cave. I can think of three main reasons for this: 1) that Rachel was worried people outside would abuse or manipulate Bam, 2) that Rachel feared Bam's destiny would directly interfere with her dreams in some way, or 3) that the physical environment or the nature of Bam's resurrection prevented him from being able to survive outside.

Bam makes a contract with the Administrator on the 2nd Floor. The Administrator tells him that this contract - arguably the source of Bam's abilities as a Wave Controller - is a shackle. Bam's powers are thus suggested to come at the expense of his autonomy.

FUG manipulates the 2nd Floor testing process to separate Bam from his friends, essentially using them as hostages to make him participate as JVG, Slayer Candidate in their bid to commit regicide. Bam's power and his Irregular status are both explicitly cited in the text as reasons FUG interfered in his life and endangered his friends. Because Irregulars are not bound to the rules of the Tower, Bam is thought to be one of the rare few exempt from the rules of Jahad's immortality contract. This makes Bam's desire for autonomy tragic, because his unusual capability to act as he wants

Bam, as JVG, allows himself to be pulled into the newly-formed Team Sweet & Sour. His FUG mentor realizes how important it is for him to have these new friends and decides not to punish him for violating FUG's earlier command that he pass the floor test alone. From this point on he has three teams of people who are for the most part significantly weaker than himself who all want to climb the Tower with him.

Ok, this got much longer than intended already so time for the lightning round

Bam's initial motivation to be with Rachel

SIU deciding to have Bam basically unaware of, and uninvolved in, Horyang's recovery.

Bam initially rejecting Blue Thryssa's offer of tyrannical power

Endorsi's team turning against Bam temporarily in the Name Hunt Station

Bam's failed promise to save Deng Deng

Khun and Hatz's homoerotically-charged anxiety about the increasing possibility that Bam will simply become too powerful for them to keep up with him, and their desire to continue climbing the Tower with him as long as they can.

Here's a question about the bolded bits above - are these the strategic decisions of someone who intrinsically values victory and strength? Are these conflicts that Bam could have overcome through sheer power and durability? Does Bam's power lend itself to the type of life he wants to live?

This has been a lot, so let's return to the issue at hand: the idea that Bam is 'overpowered' or has 'plot armor.' As much as the phrase 'plot armor' irks me, I do think it signifies a real issue with how stories driven by a Main Character often struggle to make mortal threats the Main Character faces seem credible. I think this is actually one of the reasons for the recent ubiquity of power-fantasy based isekai - faced with the task of dangling the marshmellow over the campfire only to yank it out at the perfect golden-brown moment, some decide not to bother and just eat them straight from the bag instead. There is no 'correct' way to write a story, but in my opinion the most promising isekai authors often do what SIU has done with Tower of God - convert narrative weakness into strength by using the protagonist's invincibility and immense power as a catalyst to introduce conflicts that these superhuman traits cannot directly solve.

I'm sorry if you feel like Bam's power dulls the stakes of the story, but in my opinion these are the highest the stakes have ever been. He has brought some of his closest friends to war with Jahad's army, endangering their lives for the sake of one man - one of the guys responsible for threatening his friends to begin with, at that. Even if weaker characters like Shibisu manage to make it out of this thing without serious injury or death, they will be targets of Jahad's soldiers and assassins for the rest of their lives. Physically, Bam will survive and continue to grow stronger and climb the Tower after the Nest. But otherwise? I see no reason to believe the Nest will do anything less than humble Bam to an unprecedented degree.

[enigmasong]

I'm rewatching the Warship Island arc, and it does so much heavy lifting for the world building of One Piece that I'm absolutely gob smacked that it's just anime filler and not part of the actual manga.

That arc introduces concepts that wouldn't be introduced in the manga for over a decade - Luffy being able to hear the Voice of All Things (as well as that power in general) and the existence of real dragons, which is still yet to be confirmed otherwise.

---

And Lost Island is just the architype for the 'lost island civilization from the void century' theory. Like, oh, it's an island that's been abandoned for centuries which surrounding environment seems almost artificially designed to keep people away from it - and it's related to a species that hasn't been seen in so long it's passed into legend and also the last time they would've used their nearby breeding grounds was just before the beginning of the void century. Also, the people who lived on the Lost Island abandoned so they could move to the dragons' nesting island proper.

That's just too high a level of sus that falls too close in line with the other sus in the main series that doesn't really exist in most of the filler arcs to not have been, at least broad strokes, written by Oda.

So, it's just weird that it's not part of the actual canon.

[jackoshadows]

Unpopular opinion, but I disagree with the notion that Jon should be accepting of his bastardy and not rule if given the chance. Even  “I don’t want it ” show!Jon ended up as KITN when some Northerners randomly made him one despite Ned Stark’s trueborn daughter sitting beside him, so why wouldn’t the book version - who does want it - not accept an offer to be King? 

Why shouldn’t Jon Snow rule the North and Winterfell? Of the remaining Starks, he’s the oldest, most experienced and qualified. He is Ned Stark’s son. Winterfell is as much as his home as it is to the rest of the Starks. He learned from the same people Robb did. Removing any gender and class bias, Jon’s still the best person belonging to house Stark to rule the North. Robb Stark certainly thought so.

Jon has never let being a bastard define what he is capable of. He has always looked beyond class lines and valued people for what they are capable of rather than the limited and narrow views that society has. Why wouldn’t Jon want to rule the North?

I feel that reasons like ‘Jon is a bastard, he should remain a bastard, Jon being king would undermine his story, perfect King Jon would be boring etc.’ are just excuses for wanting Jon out of rulership. One may as well say that they want *insert favorite character* to be king/Queen rather than Jon.

Rather, I think this line of thinking should be applied to someone like Young Griff - and this is precisely the story that GRRM is trying to tell with the character. It would, for example, be boring for secret, trueborn, Targaryen prince Aegon to go on to be the perfect king that Varys expects him to be.

Young Griff is the perfect king on paper –  groomed to know the common man’s struggle, he’s smart, well liked etc. But for us readers, him becoming king would feel unearned. Young Griff is actually a critique of unearned rulership.  We see from his cyvasse game with Tyrion, that he is arrogant and spoiled. He feels entitled to Dany’s dragons – the dragons that Dany has hatched and nurtured and bonded with. He thinks that Dany will immediately throw her full support behind him.

Compare Young Griff to Jon, Dany and Arya. Jon is defending the realm without any expectation of reward, planning Stannis’ campaign to win the North, preparing the wall for an attack from an existential threat. Dany halts her Westerosi campaign and is ruling Meereen for the people, dealing with insurgency, famine and sickness, having to make the hard decisions that come at great personal cost. Arya actually lived among small folk in war torn Westeros. She has no Jon Connington or mercenaries protecting her as she fake lives among the small folk – her experiences are real. The pain and trauma she experiences – that she sees the small folk go through – that’s real. It was about survival for her, instead of Young Griff learning how to fish and wash clothes.

Young Griff is supposed to feel unearned. He is a stand in for Jon, Dany and Arya – the secret prince, the Targaryen come to take the Iron Throne and the Stark princess who has actually lived among the small folk and befriended them. Young Griff is Jon, Dany and Arya without their actual experiences.  Not to mention that in GRRM’s world, there are no perfect kings or queens. His rulers are flawed leaders who make mistakes because ruling is hard.

That has been GRRM’s position  - rulership has to be earned. And I think right now 17 year old Jon and 16 year old Dany have earned their leadership positions by actually doing and learning. If Jon Snow becomes KITN, he would have earned that position.

I also disagree with the notion that Jon should not be trueborn because that would ruin his character and make his story pointless.

This is Jon Snow we are talking about here. The Jon Snow who loved wild child Arya for her bird’s nest hair and her scabby knees and gave Lady Arya Stark a sword because she wanted to learn how to use it like her brothers. The Jon Snow who thought that it was okay if Randyll Tarly’s eldest son did not want to fight and asked Maester Aemon to take Sam on because he’s intelligent and liked to read. The Jon Snow who made Satin his steward because he was quick and clever and fearless in a fight. The Jon Snow who held out his hand and called Tyrion Lannister friend.

The Jon Snow who said this:

The collar is supposed to remind a maester of the realm he serves, isn’t that so? Lords are gold and knights steel, but two links can’t make a chain. You also need silver and iron and lead, tin and copper and bronze and all the rest, and those are farmers and smiths and merchants and the like. A chain needs all sorts of metals, and a land needs all sorts of people. The Night’s Watch needs all sorts too. Why else have rangers and stewards and builders? Lord Randyll couldn’t make Sam a warrior, and Ser Alliser won’t either. You can’t hammer tin into iron, no matter how hard you beat it, but that doesn’t mean tin is useless. Why shouldn’t Sam be a steward?”

If this Jon Snow turns out to be trueborn, does he suddenly regress into a person who buys into Westeros’ patriarchal and primitive notions of blood and birth defining who a person should be? Is he suddenly going to expect Arya to behave like a southron lady? Fire Satin from his job?

Is Jon going to believe that being trueborn is superior and that is why he became Lord Commander? Are we as readers going to think that Jon only got to where he is because he is trueborn? All the decisions he made  – all that is retroactively ruined because he’s trueborn?

I doubt Jon is trueborn in any case - Rhaegar was married to Elia and they had children.  Rather, I think GRRM will use Jon’s parentage to explore one of the themes that he really loves – the human heart in conflict with itself. It would add an extra layer of angst, self-doubt, and struggle to Jon’s already existing personal issues.  A father he loved and blamed for his bastardy, send him to the wall - to a life of hardship and celibacy - without telling him the truth. Everything he knew about himself is a lie.

With GRRM’s writing, he could delve into Jon’s inner psyche as he is hit with these truths. A possible heir to the Iron Throne ends up a low born bastard at the wall – how does one deal with all this? How does one react? Then there are his relationships with the only other Targaryen and his now cousin Arya. And that’s what would make any such reveal exciting and add complexity to character and character arcs.  And I think that would be damn interesting to read.

[amitieos]

how to train your dragon

For reasons unknown to anyone else, a mother wyvern has rejected her newborn wyvern and refuses to care for it. The task is now up to some brave volunteers to acquire a friend for life… or the scars. [Grants Flying +1]

Elincia carefully dismounts from her pegasus and approaches the abandoned wyvern nest. Gusts of wind threaten to blow her off course as she carefully navigates the rocky ledge of the mountain. Almost there, she shoots a triumphant smile towards Leanne, and Naesala, who the heron princess had managed to drag along into their escapades for the day. Shuffling across the outcrop, their target finally comes into sight.

It’s hard to believe, that this tiny, vulnerable little thing will one day be large enough to carry men into battle. Daring and proud, unwilling to back down. An instrument of war. For right now, it’s scales gleam in the sunlight, it’s wings too fragile and underdeveloped to lift even it’s petite body from the nest. Large, round eyes stare up at her in trepidation, and Elincia can physically feel the way the feeble creature tugs on her heartstrings like a harp. There was no turning back now. If the wyvern’s draconic mother would not care for it, then she’d just have to be enough, somehow.

Tentatively, Elincia makes her way closer still. Her footsteps are light, delicate so as to not startle the infant. Once within arm’s reach, she stretches out cupped hands, gently lifting it from the ground into her embrace.

It doesn’t stay there very long.

Fire gushes from the dragon’s nostrils, racing up her arms. It’s all she can do to pull her face away just in time, to avoid it too being engulfed in the raging flames. Instinctively, she let’s go of the baby wyvern, sending it arcing into the air as she tries to summon a spell to put out the fire, licking it’s way up her arms.

@allegreta or @aliferousumbra (someone please catch the baby dragon!)

[vergess]

i'm getting back into his dark materials recently, and it's bumping up against my love of ffxiv, so what do you think the scions (or any other characters you're partial to) would have as their daemons? how about your wol?

Nyeheheee, okay, I haven't considered this extensively but I have considered it.

Obviously, I'm a Thancred Has A Wolf Daemon truther. He has all the common traits. Childhood trauma. Comfort with violence. Extreme loyalty to his perceived family/crew/pack.

Minfilia I think is a pink-headed duck, for two reasons. 1) There's a common myth that a duck quack doesn't echo, but actually, a duck's quack consumes its own echo because of the way the soundwaves oscillate, such that a quack is equal parts call and echo. 2) The pink headed duck was recently declared extinct, much like our girl.

Yda I think has a Small Indian Mongoose that she passes off as an Indian Grey Mongoose when people ask if her daemon has changed due to the trauma of the Calamity. "Oh, no, no, everyone just always thinks he's larger than he actually is, big personality and all that!!" Mongoose are very good fighters, and not to be a Taako Taaco stan on main, but they are also very good at not being poisoned by long term exposure to unbelievable toxicity. Getting to calll him by his proper name and species during Stormblood is a whole Character Arc for her.

Papalymo has a grass snake of unusually large (though not unheard of) size, much too large to wrap around his lalafell sized staff. Because of her extremely large size, she resembles an Aesculapian snake, but she's just a common grass snake.

Y'shtola has an aquatic fairy wasp, which is 1) A wasp, 2) one of the smallest insects int he world, 3) Swims underwater with its little wings 4) Is literally too small to break surface tension and has to climb out of water on grass stems instead, much like a certain someone can never escape the spectre of her first familiar lmao. Also, I just think Y'shtola having a near microscopic daemon is really funny. Like, they definitely used to pretend she was a witch and that her daemon was Out On Errands to torment people when they were younger by having her daemon just hide in her ear or something. The fact that post Shadowbringers she actually is a witch whose daemon has been Separated is actively fucking hilarious in this context.

Urianger has an Indigo Bunting, which is a) super brightly colored and showy in spite of Urianger's best efforts to be a secretive little bitch, b) outstandingly loud, and c) uses stellar navigation during its migrations, as a foreshadowing of his class change from ACN to AST. Also, they're same-sexed. Which is to say, his daemon has the bright ultra-blue feathers of male buntings. However, unlike Urianger, his daemon is probably a they/them type of bitch.

Tataru has a Tunisian Ant. Tunisian ants are pretty famous for being the best mathematicians in the animal world, able to compute complex trigonometry to navigate by counting the steps they took leaving their nest, adjusting their travel angle relative to the sun, and making a direct line back to the nest with their food. More importantly, however, this little bastards have some of the strongest sense of smell in the world. These little fellas can scent a good deal (food) from 17,000x their body size away, and they smell in 3D since they have two olfactory organs (antennae) compared the humanity's paltry single nose.

Krile has a golden parakeet. This is almost entirely because it's as obnoxiously yellow as she is, but it's also a little bit because parakeets along with other parrots are pretty famously intelligent, yet easily startled. The golden parakeet in particular is also almost hyper social, which I think blends well with Krile's adorably youthful faith in social systems.

Estinien has a draco volans, the common flying dragon lizard. This is both because I cannot resist a shitty pun, and because of real actual reasons such as: --the flying lizard has a ludicrous jump distance do to its gliding abilities, travelling 100x its body length; --although they are relatively anti-social and dislike loud environments, they are also perfectly happy to kill kill murder kill, with even the relatively more docile females having a vicious territorialism during mating and hatching seasons; --in spite of this, female dracos are free-travelling and wide ranging; --dracos will spend their whole lives never touching the ground if they can at all avoid it.

G'raha has an obnoxiously sociable little Corgi dog who not only talks to other daemons, but will chipperly chime into conversations between people as well. They wear matching outfits. It's unbearable. They're so saccharine. This is because when they woke up in the Bad Timeline, and Raha had to go to the first, his daemon didn't make it across the void. Unlike the scions, whose daemons fell asleep alongside them, it was presumed that Raha's daemon had dissipated. He had physically moved to the first like the WoL did, yet his daemon was missing. The combination of physical pain from the sudden separation and magical disturbance from bonding with the tower seemed to support this. In actuality, his daemon was doing exactly the same thing: sleeping next to source!G'raha in the Allagan stasis chamber. Being forced to assume your soul is dead and that you've only been kept alive through your own hubris for a couple centuries really does a Trauma on a bitch. After the two Raha's memories blended, Raha's daemon is critical in keeping source!Raha from being completely subsumed by the Exarch's greater age, power, and trauma.

The Twins are almost painfully easy. See. There's these two kinds of monkey. The blue monkey, and the red tailed monkey. Though monkeys are generally territorial bastards who hate not just other family groups of the same species, but other nearby species as well, this pair are pretty well known for travelling and even living in mixed species groups of blue and red. I mean. Aside from the fact that monkey daemons are associated with highly self-actualized and intelligent people, especially those with political goals. They're literally color coded for the twins. I almost feel bad giving them matching ones, but how can I possibly deny this simple fact?

If that's a disappointment, I also considered having an Oxpecker bird for Alisaie, and a horseshoe crab for Alphinaud.

The Oxpecker is a bird quite famous for its mutualistic relationship with large mammals, where it will eat parasites off their hides/wounds, and alert them to the approach of poachers. However, it's no longer considered a mutualist relationship but rather a parasitic one, because when 'grooming' its host mammal, the bird gives exactly 0 fucks about the mammal's safety, and will happily widen and worsen injuries to get to the food. This matches welll with Alisaie's extreme temperament and tendency to consider harm in the name of her goal an acceptable cost, even while she's still a broadly very caring and maternal character.

The horseshoe crab meanwhile is famous for its armored shell and its value as a source of medical components, which is a great choice for a dear sweet boy who gave up being a shield healer so he could be another shield healer.

As for WoLs. My WoL has a dwarf pea puffer, the smallest breed of pufferfish. They are tiny, territorial, and like to investigate things. Also, they can puff which is just very funny to watch even though it's, y'know, a stress reaction and shouldn't be considered cute or desirable. Oh my god but it's very funny though.

Lastly, I firmly believe that the ~Official WoL~ or default WoL or whatever people call him, the guy from the trailers, has a humaniform daemon and also it's Ardbert.

Ardert is the WoL's daemon.

[kettlequills]

c7, waking dreams: master of fate

hello everyone. i am not dead. here's chapter 7. rest on a03 here.

Miraak lay upon a bier in the cool depths of the temple, and closed veinless lids over hollow eyes.

His soul rampaged in his chest, howled at the confines of the thick earthen ropes of muscle that bound skin to skeleton, blood to bone, mind to matter. He wailed at the horrible, cruel inevitability of a creature of air and fire, frost and sky, beyond all fragments of soul made form, chained within the lugubrious hell of a mortal body. His soul had not been meant to be a man, and each step he took was shadowed with the terrible loss of what Akatosh had taken from him – his claws and teeth, his strong wings to bear him far away, his lashing tail and his serpent’s eye – all for the sake of fate.

But he was Miraak, mightier than any god’s plan for him, stronger than any restless ghost or dragon, and he mastered his own fate. And so he lay there, his dragon-borne heart pounding a war rhythm in his chest, and he ate Krosulhah’s soul.

In dreams, he was Krosulhah, and he was magnificent. He knew it, he breathed it, he lived it. He was the lord of secret sorcery, the subtle manipulation of the mind, and the harsh glaze of sun on autumn ice – deceiving in its solidity to the eye, treacherous beneath. Flight was a dream to him, he knew nothing of cages, the earth no more a prison than his immortal body understood the concept of nightmare.

Scents of warm-home-heart tickled his nose as he lazily chased a thermal in a rising arc. The kind gusts belled out his regal blue-white wings, until he stretched each wingtip and felt them cup each halfway around the world. Far below, the rugged tip of the new land of fahliil basked in the spring sun.

Fresh with melted ice, the Sotkol joore-nest was so dark and brazen against the fading snowheights of the strunmah Krosulhah had chosen that the rounded roof seemed smeared with ash, as if a firebellied Dov had saw fit to free its followers from another winter. Bossy Kruziikrel, come to flaunt its ruby foe-teeth, and boil Krosulhah’s cold waters with its fiery scales until the soothing seas itched too terribly to lie in, would do that if only to steal Krosulhah’s favourites away. But no rival had seen fit to poach from Krosulhah’s flock.

No, today was a good day, wrought in spring-sun warmth that scattered droplets of icewater along Krosulhah’s shimmering silver spine. His garlands of frost were melting, under the heat of this southern sun, and as his next lazy downbeat sprayed cold rain across the stubborn crags of the mountain, he marvelled.

To the bitter north, there was no season of spring, or of summer, ground away by the passage of time. Krosulhah, born from the heaving seas of the world’s birth, remembered the creation of all seasons, how winter shook itself in first snapping and snarling, and out of its corpse grew fresh shoots, game that was fun to chase, and the joore.

Futile, summer-bright things, with soft teeth and softer paws. Such quiet voices they had, that they needed whole packs to sing with the resonance of dragons. Friendly, fearful creatures, living like termites in the dense warrens of cave and tree, their small eyes glittering in their flat faces like tiny gemstones. They did not glow, like a dragon’s eyes did. Instead, a joor reflected the light that was around it, one of the qualities that had made them so perfect for their great purpose.

Atmora’s endless winter was no trouble for ice dragons who loved the snow, but – Krosulhah tucked his wings and fell like a spear hurled from the heavens towards the sea, and the waiting chasms of gnashing rocky teeth beneath the waves, guarding the labyrinthine seacaves snarling through the rugged map of this part of Keizaal – it was not dragons alone who loved the Dov.

Dukaan was waiting for him when he breached the black water, seafoam gilding the pure icicles that clung to his argent jaw, the mighty forking of his submarine frill crowned by an impressive thicket of ice and emblazoned with chill that made him glitter as if he were crusted with precious gems. The glow of his own eyes scattered moontossed beams around the smooth walls of the seacave, catching in the rigid lines of swirling decorations carved with clever joor paws until it seemed as if the whole rock wall was alight, alive, with the ripple of waves. Only joore could turn rock to water, with nothing but shadows and the light of a dragon’s eyes.

His breath curled out ahead of him in a foggy plume of white. Dukaan’s scalloped silvery mask, so like Krosulhah’s own scales, paled with ice crystals that hung heavy in the mantle of white fur around her shoulders. Beneath it, her eyes glistened, bird-black as onyx.

“Beautiful one,” she said, spoke smooth and true, like any good joore raised to the dragon tongue did, “I am awed and ashamed to kneel before you, in such humbleness as I do.”

Krosulhah lashed his great tail, driving his spiny body further up into the sea caves beneath Sotkol and emerging from the chill water. He fanned his wings, billowing gusts of cool air up the passageways cut large enough for even a dragon to pass through and ruffling Dukaan’s robes. She had left him just the perfect amount of space to settle on his ebony sharp claws and diamond-plated chest, just close enough that he could arch his spiny neck to press his scaly snout to her chest without having to wriggle forward at all.

How well she knew him, from tip to tail, from scale to soul.

Her small arms came around his jaw, deft claws painted silver as his reflexively seeking the soft patch of scales under Krosulhah’s throat for a good scratch. The tips of Krosulhah’s wings sagged as he melted under her attentions, careful to angle the sharp prod of his tusks away from her delicate flesh. Her robes rumpled and fluttered as if caught by stormsung winds when he exhaled a greeting breath.

She blew back, more of a chin jerk of her flat face than any breath, captured as it was in her mask. Her eyes gentled at him, all that unbearable softness on display; how careful a Dov had to be, to avoid hurting them with their fragile skins and their bodies full of a thousand pulsing things, without a single one of which they withered away into a sleep that they could not be woken from again. Precious, momentary things, as warm and lovely as the sunlight’s dazzle on bright wings, between the onward march of the clouds. And so he greeted her with breath and air, and not with fire.

“Drem-lok,” Krosulhah rumbled with pleasure, “di-sonaak, Dukaan.”

“Hail, Krosulhah,” she returned, and tipped forward until her slight weight rested against his nose, negligible to dragon as large and strong as Krosulhah. Her warmth cradled the sensitive, flexible scales of his head, too hot to be borne, if it were not for her. She sighed. “What news from the north? Has Al-Du-In caught wind of our plans?”

“Niid,” Krosulhah said. “I think not. Yet. Faasnu Kruziikrel has been given a new priest. Fah yol mey. After much whining.”

“The fearless one should perhaps stop killing them, and then would not need more,” Dukaan muttered. Her blunt claws scratched under his chin with a surge of vigour; even with strangers, she felt their loss, she felt for their pain. Krosulhah wondered where she put it all, in that small chest with its rabbit-thudding pulse counting out the scant seconds of her life. “No matter how convenient it is for our smuggling operations.”

Krohsulhah snorted a laugh. He thought Dukaan would govern the joore at Kruziikrel’s nest better than Kruziikrel did, and this was a fine joke, to imagine her giving mighty, flaming Kruziikrel, impatient with everyone, orders that must be obeyed, weak as a kitten. How could a joor control a dragon? They were such small creatures, barely any teeth at all. But they spoke a dragon’s tongue, and their hearts were steadfast and strong, stronger even, Krosulhah thought, than the Dov. But without a dragon’s Voice, their will was still dependent on a dragon’s indulgence to listen.

“You speak with the mind of a joor, but a Dov’s sense, dii. I do not think this one will last long.”

“What mask does he bear?” Dukaan asked. She rose, and after a quick, guilty look behind her, pulled off her own mask to press a quick kiss to Krosulhah’s horn. Her fur spilled out her face around without the voluminous hood to keep it back; always so much more than Krosulhah expected there to be. He swore it grew every time he looked away. Such was the nature of mortals, constantly changing.

Obligingly, he bent his neck to allow her to climb up his spiny shoulders, and find a perch there with her clever hands wrapped around a spare spine. Nimble and quick, these joore, and how quietly they could move without the earth lumbering through each of their heavy steps! Dukaan’s small claws tickled when they skated along the ridges of his polished scales. Some joore did not even have that much, and were small and weak all over, full of warm blood and soft meat. But not his Dukaan, no. She smelled perpetually of cool snow, and never minded his chilly scales even in the longest arc of winter.

“Faaz, rok los…” Krohsulhah’s mind sought a glimpse of memory as Dukaan scurried about on his back. She was a warm spot on his back, right over the vulnerable place where his neck joined his body. When she had settled herself, a loose rope wrapped around Krosulhah’s neck, she tapped his scales.

The flash of a mask came to him, the strange, oily scent the priest had carried following quick after. Like snorting sparks, it had stung his nose with the briny memory of the madness that lurked in the deeps. Though he had worn many bells in his robes that jangled and clashed together harmoniously, the little joor had been slow on his feet, and his eyes submissively lowered. His will was already broken despite winning for himself a mask of the favoured, and every step drug against the tidal current of the deep, and his rattling breath was the whisper of wind through fallen leaves. Of dead things, of decaying things, of the strange, still sleeps of the joore, wherein they would never wake but only dream.

Kruziikrel would be through with him in barely a year, Krosulhah thought. Firebright Kruziikrel, bragging and gloating, immense and majestic, saddled with this sad little creature, whose very breath seemed to hum a discordant note in a song? No, Krosulhah suspected he would barely live long enough to allow Dukaan to take advantage of the chaos of his arrival to steal away precious joore from the talons of unworthy Dov. On the heels of this recollection, Krosulhah remembered the name.

Pleased with himself, he ruffled his wings. “He is Miraak.”

---

---

The maw of Raven Rock was set low beneath the vast scowl of its walls, the teeth of its portcullis scraping the drifting hills of ash. As Frea and Nikulas crested one such shifting, powdery hill, the bonemould-clad guards slammed their spears down into a jagged ring of spikes. The close eye of the sun hanging like a spectre over the ashy clouds wreathed their bristling spears into individual points of fire. Each fearsome helmet hid sharp red eyes that were as cold and hard as rubies.

“Halt!” one shouted.

Placatingly, Frea raised her hands. The strap that secured Laataazin’s hammer to her shoulder dug into the meat of her muscle and ground against the bone.

Nikulas glanced sidelong at her. He had been carrying his bow in hand, like any good hunter ever watchful for a flushed hare or snowfox. As he fumbled to hastily copy her, he dropped it. The bow hit the ash with a muted thump, the string snapping back against the wood.

He cringed. Frea pursed her lips and kept her eyes forward, Nikulas’ blazing cheeks like summer sun in her peripheral vision.

She offered a silent prayer to the All-Maker that Nikulas had not cracked his bow. The Dunmer bows Frea might find to replace them in town were built for slender elven proportions and were made to be regularly drenched in oils and set alight. Nikulas’ thick human fingers would struggle on the small grips, and it would never shoot as well cold.

But beyond the practicality of conserving the Skaal’s limited resources, there was something in the air here she didn’t trust. Suspicious xenophobia, Frea expected that, but not raised weapons. It had never gone so far as that before.

The clumsy disarmament eased some of the more undisciplined guards, and a few spear tips closer to the back dipped to rest gently on the ash. No doubt they would be hastily taken up if the captain scowling at them from under his bonemould helm turned.

The young were the same everywhere, it seemed.

“Hail,” she called, in her clumsy Dunmeris. She knew only a few words, enough to announce who she was and that she meant no harm. She had never been tasked with hunting or trading with the lowland elves and so had never had occasion to learn more than the basics, though travelling with Laataazin who understood barely more than she and could not speak at all had brushed up her skills.

At her shout, a wave of relief swept through the guards; even the less green ones slumped. At the captain’s gesture, the ring of spears raised, put up against bone-plated shoulders with a deathly rattling.

“Hail, stranger,” he said, “Welcome to Raven Rock.”

The guards formed two neat rows for Nikulas and Frea to pass through. Stepping into the shadow of the Bulwark, Frea swallowed around a lump of apprehension.

Even Nikulas’ vibrating eagerness died into a wary sort of unease that matched her own as they passed under the towering walls of the Bulwark. No seasoned hunter was he, but he didn’t need to be one to feel that Raven Rock had all the tense exhaustion of a trap in waiting.

The huge walls loomed over her, pressing her into the vast dark heaviness of their enfold. The air was noticeably hotter inside, almost clammy with a thick shimmer that clustered round the dun, dully shining carapaces of the houses, bone, shell and chimes of carved wood, unmoving in the listless still. The fields that pressed up against the walls of the Bulwark like the rolling crumples of patchworked furs were fallow soil, dark and picked bare.

Braziers were lit at every corner, burning with sweet perfumes that cloyed the air. The townsfolk haunted the alleys between the dusty gutters, half-choked with ash that was normally swept away. There were more than Frea remembered, rangy and lean as wolves. Sunken into tight, pinched faces, the knots of their bellies, their spirits flickered and glowed like banked coals.

She stumbled into the gaze of one elf counting coins in the shade of a sprawling trama root. Quick as an arrow, the coins vanished in a silver flash, and their slender hands with nails painted poison purple crept into the ash to curl around the hilt of a wicked-looking dagger. Outlined in the dark shadows of tear-tracks, their eyes burned as they lingered on Frea’s weapons.

The attitude was quiet; subdued. No one talked. There was no laughter or song in these streets, only the whispering of the ash and the silent, persistent sense of being watched.

Purposefully, Frea struck out across the town, towards the Earth Stone. The sea breeze chilled her cheeks as she crossed the boardwalk, her boots echoing hollowly. The Earth Stone sat a little away from the nearby buildings, still with half-risen barricades and guard posts that stood empty, like eyesockets dotting the walls of tombs. It was not completely unattended; a single Redoran guard was slumped over a rickety chair, snoring into his helmet.

Careless. Frea bit her tongue and tasted salt flecked on her lips.

Nikulas’ footsteps were silent as a cat’s behind her as Frea skirted the guard and slipped into the barricaded area around the Earth Stone. Dark water sloshed over her boots, and she grimaced. Nikulas nimbly hopped over to the ring of stone that hugged the very plinth of the Stone, risen like grave marker to the smoky sky. Squaring her stance, Frea leant back against the barricades and crooked a rune of mage-sight, the third finger of her left hand against the pad of her thumb, over her eye.

The glistening leylines of the land superimposed themselves over her sight, threads woven round the swollen nexus that was the Earth Stone. The magic here pulsed and roiled like the ocean not too far from its lonely hill, disturbed as a kicked nest. It dragged deep, through hollow chambers of ancient rock, through the very twisting foundations of Solstheim itself. The blood of the All-Maker pounded through the tributaries that had been cut here by Frea’s ancestors long ago, risen into glowing pools of energy clustered around each Stone, invigorating the earth, purifying the waters and sweetening the sky. The whole island sung through these Stones and the Skaal that watched them. To the learned shaman who knew how to read them, the Stones had once whispered of everything from the tiniest forager to the greatest tree, the silent humming of the mountains, the dead men that slept in their cold tombs, the vast network of power that stretched over Solstheim together like links in a great chain.

But now, all they sang was one word. One name.

Miraak.

His touch fell upon her soft as snow kissed her cheeks, but there was no will there. Just – presence. Awareness, like she was being watched, in the same slow way the moons observed the passing of the stars and the interminable dancing of fireflies. Mortal lives, flickers of light against the encroach of void, dark as ink and deep as memory itself.

Uneasily, Frea took a step back, out of the inky water around the base of the Stone, certain that in the dim waters that oozed there she had caught sight of Herma-Mora’s eye.

“This needs cleansing,” she muttered.

Hand straying to his bow, Nikulas peered into the water suspiciously. Frea doubted he could shoot an arrow anywhere helpful, but she understood the desire to face the unknown with a weapon in hand. “Is it this bad at the Wind Stone, too?”

“You can sense it?” Frea eyed him, but he did not seem any different, if a little nervous.

Avoiding her wary squint, Nikulas rubbed the back of his neck. He checked his fingers, as if expecting blood – or maybe ink – to have stained them. “It’s – louder here. I hear him.”

“You hear him?!” Frea grabbed her amulet subconsciously. The flicker of her father’s magic was calming, but it warred with a creeping and persistent guilt. She only had the one, after all, and one had not been enough without Laataazin’s aid. Amulets, weapons, and all the wisdom of the Skaal hadn’t been enough. This time, they had to be, there was nothing else. “… What is he saying?”

Nikulas shifted from foot to foot. He pushed the hood of his fur parka down, revealing a pale face that was glossing with sweat. The brisk, salty wind chapped his cheeks, but it could not hide the tips of his ears turning red. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, anxious as a watersnake caught in a rockpool by stirring seas.

“Just…” Nikulas squeezed the grip of his bow until his knuckles turned white. The stretch-blanched skin over his knuckles stood in harsh contrast to the hectic flush brimming in the hollow of his throat, his wrists, all the places where vulnerable blood gathered. As he stood motionless, his eyes glazed and his pupils narrowed to pinpricks, as if he stood before a great bright light that Frea could not see. He began to sweat, drips sleeting towards his dampening collar. He held his body too rigid to shiver. Like even breathing would be too much.

“I hear his whispers,” he breathed, “… and there’s music – singing – just far away, but I can… I – I feel like flying.”

He scuffed one of the carven lines worked into the base of the circle around the Stone’s base. A tingle worked its way into her aching bones where her skull met her spine. The trapped energy hummed restlessly, visceral as a shudder caught under her skin.

Something… stirred.

Acting quickly, Frea yanked Nikulas’ arm. He toppled half-over, yelping as he splashed foul water up to his knee, but Frea did not pause until she had towed him out of the stone circle, past the barricades and the sleeping guard.

Seizing him by the shoulders, Frea shook him. Anxiously, she searched his face, fever-flushing darkly, the hair on his temples curling with his sweat. His oak-brown eyes were muzzy. He blinked at her, trying for a wobbly smile. Nearly hoarse with relief, Frea released him and whirled around to hide her face. For a moment, she’d thought – well, it didn’t matter what she had thought.

Groaning, he sagged against the barricade wall nauseously, one arm creeping around his stomach. He touched himself like a stranger to his own body, a faint grief or virulent relief pinching his mouth as he ran human hands over his nose, his cheeks, gripped at his belly. “Oh, that does not feel good.”

“We should leave this place,” Frea managed to keep her voice clear, though cool, though fear threatened to strangle it, she could not alarm him, she could not. She could not risk bringing to his eyes, so young and bright with a hope yet to be crushed out, the dreadful fear she had felt those nights at the Stones, shaking numb limbs and feeling around her neck the necklace that warded her like a lodestone for the prayers of her people. “Are you well, Nikulas?”

“Aye.” Nikulas leant over and spat illustratively in the dirt. He plastered on a rather wan, but brave face. “Aye, see, no hammering from me. I’ve got your back, Frea.”

“Alright,” she said. She worked her jaw around the words, feeling them thick and awkward in her mouth. A headache crept into her temples and banged there like incautious shutters. Her stomach did not want to relax from its tense nest of snakes. She wanted, badly, to be away from the Stone. “But tell me if you start to hear anything again.”

“Aye, shaman,” he said lightly, but his eyes were serious.

As he followed her away from the shrine, Frea caught him glancing over his shoulder and rubbing at his ear, as if to remove the phantom feeling of lips against it, did not speak of the wordless surge it roused within her. She kicked a stone against the foot of the guardsman as they passed, already several swinging strides away by the time he spluttered himself awake.

She did not think this place should be unguarded. No more were the Stones watchful guardians and earthen protectors. Not for the Skaal, and not for the people of Raven Rock.

“Those… whispers,” said Nikulas as they left, “That’s what Oslaf and the others heard, wasn’t it?”

“No,” Frea said tightly.

Her boots came down aggressive and sharp on the hollow chitinous planks boarding the ashy dust of the pathways, and she forced herself to slow down. They were attracting odd looks. Skaal weren’t a common enough sight in Raven Rock to go without notice anymore. They hadn’t been since before Miraak’s curse had started stirring in the Stones, and they had rather more on their mind than trading furs for spice and lowlander coin.

The guards were watching them warily, their hands on their belts loosely fingering weapons. The guards had never been the friendliest of Dunmer in Raven Rock, but they had usually treated newcomers with distant politeness. Perhaps Frea owed her chillier reception to the fact she no longer walked at the Dragonborn’s side. The world had seemed colder, greyer, without Laataazin in it, somehow less full. They had this air of gravity and purpose about them that made any chore into a quest, an adventure, a legend.

The heft of their warhammer on her back restored the weight of their company, but not the wonder. Or perhaps that had been Frea’s own brand of foolish youth, when she had still thought that saving the day would be enough to undo the night that had ruled before it.

Frea’s absent mind had taken them unconsciously to the forge district, where she did most of her trading when she was in town. The tradesfolk of Raven Rock were always friendlier than anyone else, welcoming fine Skaal craftsmanship. Here, at least, she was greeted with gruff nods and the occasional thin-lipped smile.

“Am I going to start dreamwalking?” Nikulas asked quietly from behind her, drawing her attention to the uncomfortable silence that had settled between them.

Grateful to be drawn out of her thoughts, Frea smiled at him. It was a thin, drowned thing. Nikulas’ dark eyes furrowed up, unsure how to take good humour from her. She touched his elbow, trying for reassuring instead of staid.

“No, I don’t think so.”

His answering smile came out like the dawn. “Thank you, shaman.”

Frea looked away from his innocent warmth and tried not to think about the fact that as long as Frea held the only amulet resistant to Miraak’s powers, Nikulas could be commanded to work the Stones whenever he liked, and Frea would be none the wiser til she found him, hammering away.

The clang of metal on metal answered her thought, and Frea jumped. She found Laataazin’s hammer all but materialised in her hands, digging into the meat of her palms bruisingly. Her bare fingers looked muddied and cold, childlike, curled around the heavy haft. The Raven Rock smith, a wiry, pale human from far across the sea, glanced up at her. His canny eyes were sunk low in his skull, mounded with exhausted wrinkles.

“Ahoy, Skaal. You want your weapons fixed up, you’ll have to wait. Guards’ order came through first.”

“Oh, we weren’t here to trade…” Nikulas started, but Frea approached the smith, caught by the stick of iron he was scrutinising. Sensing a conversation, the smith, Mallory, shoved it back into the coals.

Closer to the forge, the heat was fearsome, fire-salts popping and crackling in the hearth like chattering atronachs. Flame-treated Dunmeri weapons would not melt in any ordinary fire, at least, not without frost-salts to weaken them first. Frea knew that much, from Baldor Iron-Shaper’s grumbling when the Skaal brought back treated weapons from trade. The Skaal were no witch-elves, they did not conjure atronachs and daedra and slay them for their heartfires and skin-salts. But Frea’s own war-axe had been made with fire-treated quicksilver folded round a steel blade, and it had cut through the searing attacks of enemy Dunmer as if their fires were water.

“That blade has been sheared in half,” Frea interrupted. “… Of metals I know, only stahlrim could do this, and we do not make it frequently. Who cleaved that sword?”

“I ain’t paid to ask questions about dead folk’s blades, Skaal.” Mallory wiped his brow and set down his hammer. “Truth be told, I’m glad to see some of your sort about town. I’d had you all figured wiped out long before now.”

“Wiped out?” Nikulas demanded.

“Aye.” Mallory squinted at them. “The ‘spawn was bad enough before. Still, will you be wanting anything?” He looked admiringly at the hammer Frea had forgotten she held. “Aye, I’d pay you to get my hands on that beauty.”

It simmered when he looked at it, as if the death-enchantments within the metal sung for the blood that fuelled them. If he recognised the intricate carvings of twisted dragons, he said nothing, but Frea shifted it uncomfortably over her back anyway. She wasn’t here to talk about the Dragonborn.

“No, friend,” she said, as graciously as she could manage. “We came to see if the curse of Miraak continued to affect your people.”

“Miraak?” Mallory scratched his chin. His nails rasped against his unshaven cheek. “Can’t say as I remember where I’ve heard that before…”

“The Stones!” Nikulas burst in, insulted. “The Traitor came and took everyone’s minds while they slept, and they laboured away for hours – tens of us died!”

Mallory’s expression flattened, his cracked lips pressing in a thin line. “Ah, the Dragonborn’s business at the Stones? Your pardon, but I’d figured that was in the past now.”

He turned away from them, straightening some tangles of leather that coiled over the workbench behind him. His nimble hands made quick work of the knots, but he kept his eyes focused on the table. Frea read hesitance in the line of his shoulders. His reticence ignited anger in her heart.

“In the past?” Frea repeated, nettled, barely recognising the quiet threat in her voice as her own. “Bare weeks have passed, smith. Our bodies are still not yet feeding next summer’s worms. Have none of your people’s scouts kept watch on the temple?”

“Aye,” said Malloy, his unease a twitch in his sooty cheek, “Well, I never lost anyone personally, really, lass.” He shrugged defensively. “I gave the Dragonborn free servicing when she fought that mind-thief, because of Fethis, asking on account of his missing associate. I’m a smith, I fix weapons and armour. There’s enough dead about to break good steel against without needing to go looking in the tombs for them.”

He glanced over his shoulder and his eyes tightened, lingering on something just past her. As subtly as she could, Frea stole a look and spotted a loitering guard on the corner. The guard was sagging against a wall, bonemould armour ashblown and long spear shortened by a foot. With a start, Frea recognised him from the gate. Had they been followed?

Nikulas’ arms were crossed over his chest, weight set back on his heels belligerently, but his ire was focused on the smith. His hunter’s ear had caught no stealthy step behind them, or he would have alerted her, surely. Frea touched her amulet, and forced herself to relax her shoulders.

Mallory cleared his throat. “Well, if you ain’t here to trade, I got to ask you to move along. I’m busy.”

“Aye,” said Frea. “All-Maker’s blessing, Skaal-friend.”

It came out bitter and sharp, and she frowned at herself as she turned away. Storn would have kept his good humour, navigated the conversation with calm. Frea represented the village every time she left, she owed them better. The amulet’s magic hummed against her clutching hand, cool as a breath of frost.

“Yeah, yeah,” said Mallory absently, clearing a space on his workbench, “Shadows guide you.”

As they stepped away, the guard came up behind them, proffering his broken spear and engaging Mallory in such rapid muttered Dunmeris that Frea hadn’t a chance of eavesdropping on.

“We should check the town out, huh? Maybe someone else has noticed something,” Nikulas suggested brightly, and Frea nodded. “I wonder why’d they think we all died.”

“Aye,” she said. “I mistrust this.” She glanced around. It was midday, but the market was empty. Dust blew in scattered puffs across the chitin planking, tracing patterned eddies. Frea lingered on them, convincing herself she did not see runes scribed in the ash’s senseless scrawling. A merchant was sat hollowly on a nearby crate, staring into the neck of a bottle of shein. In the shadows of an alley, crimson eyes glittered against dark tattoos. They seared her like a brand, watching, waiting.

For her to be alone?

“We should split up, Nikulas.”

“Huh?” Nikulas turned and looked over his shoulder obviously, making her wince. “Why?”

“We will cover more ground,” Frea said. She thought the people were obviously wary of them together. It was a trick she had played with Laataazin once, after all, it was hard to get information from star-struck locals without one of them playing distraction.

Locals speak freer if guards are gone, Laataazin had told Frea. No true Nord trusts his jarl these days. I suspect these folk aren’t so different.

“If you need me, light an arrow and fire it.” She smiled, humourlessly. “Or scream.”

“Aye, shaman,” said Nikulas nervously. “I’ll meet you – uh…”

“The tavern,” said Frea, pointing to the sloping roof of the Retching Netch, just about visible, “in an hour.”

He nodded, not comfortable with the plan but deferring to her. But when Frea searched the alley for a glimpse of those red eyes, he clasped her bicep. Halted, Frea thinned her brow. Nikulas did not let go.

“Are you all right, Frea?”

She blinked, nonplussed. His kindness hit her delayed but with a sudden burn in her throat that hurt to swallow around. She was fine, of course she was. His hold on her was steady, and his root-deep patience was embracing as the comfort of a fire on a cold night, and all at once, Frea felt the unsteadiness she had been refusing to acknowledge buckle her knees.

Pulling her into a quick hug, Nikulas squeezed her to him. She buried her face into the fur of his parka and breathed in his warm, familiar scent. One of his tattered braids tickled her cheek; she would offer to help him redo them later, she promised herself, like a Skaal should.

Stepping back felt like wrenching the very heart of herself away.

“I will be fine,” Frea told him, the only one of her people for miles. “Go.”

“Aye,” said Nikulas. He did not protest anymore, but walked off, conspicuously angling away from the Earth Stone and the chattering waves. Frea squared her shoulders and eyed the marketplace’s darker corners. Time to find out if her suspicions bore any fruit.

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh S5 Ep 18: A Series of Ecological Disasters

Booting up ye old Yugioh, booting up a new aesthetic playlist to type to. (today’s playlist is webcore, which would feel like such a damn fake aesthetic, if it weren’t that every single one of these -core aesthetics are pretty damn fake and everyone knows it.)

Anyway, it’s been so long that, I’ll be honest, I thought I booted up the wrong episode:

I usually skip the anime intro, but I try to watch it once each arc, cuz the intros change, and this arc was like “screw it, here’s all the other villains, just pretend this arc isn’t happening.” They had Pegasus, they had Marik, they have Bakura (who is kind of in this shot as well, you can see him phasing in there.) And like...I guess they’re hiding the villain of this arc or something because that was it. Alexander the Great got just nixed from this villain list and that’s a shame.

Just a real weird choice, but since apparently this arc didn’t air in Japan they probably had to outsource this anime intro and whatever studio in charge of it just cobbled together stuff from every other season and then a couple of shots of capsule stuff.

Speaking of capsule stuff: get a load of how many freakin lines the animators have to deal with every time they draw Grandpa.

Bro saw this and was like “oh yeah, this is a Shonen Jump” and yeah. The hair does give those vibes. We got a good look at what Vegeta would look like if he really let himself go.

(read more under the cut)

Sorry, my playlist started playing a song where every single line of the song is “Adrien Brody” and it took me like a few minutes to realize I was listening to “Brodyquest” completely seriously.

Damn it, webcore, don’t betray me like this.

Anyway, this arc does something super surprising: Yugi actually hugs somebody and doesn’t look like he’s going to pass out standing up.

It is pretty fitting that the good Yugi hug would go to Grandpa.

And, as night falls, Joey Wheeler has gotten hungry, and there is nothing to eat but his new best friend and spirit animal, baby dragon. Unfortunately he shares life points with the dragon, and I think if you eat it that just instakills you.

And directly underneath him--since this world is like 100 feet wide and things just conveniently happen--Tea has told everyone that they needed to stop worrying about Joey. Which is a lot coming from Tea, because her worrying about Yugi/Yami getting hurt is most of what occupies her headspace in this series.

But even Tea was like, screw Joey, I guess.

Who kinda just falls directly into them upside down, and shows us what Joey’s hair looks like when it’s sticking straight up.

For reals, admire how long Joey Wheeler’s hair is. If Tea were upside down, she would have the same length of hair.

Also speaking of Vegeta, I am low key concerned that Joey has what appears to be a significant amount of male pattern balding going on for a teenager.

Apparently getting set on fire many, many times did have an effect on Joey, and this massive pompadour he wears is a combover. Poor baby.

Holy crap, if this is what card stress and getting killed multiple times did to Joey Wheeler, can you imagine what’s going on under Seto’s bangs? That’s probably why his bangs ride so low, Seto likely wears a freakin toupee.

Guys, Joey’s gonna lose his hair at 25 at this rate. Those locks just aren’t long for this world. Poor baby.

After Joey rejoins the party, he immediately eats all of their food. Not sure why they can’t just have Baby Dragon eat like...whatever Baby Dragon naturally eats...and then transform that into shared Joey Wheeler life points, but it’s not clear exactly how much of a life-connection they have with their Yugioh monsters. Not like it matters because Joey Wheeler is default starving all the time anyway.

Tristan has decided we should start laying blame, I guess because Duke Devlin isn’t here anymore to be the local kill joy. This doesn’t seem to be important at any point, and most of the characters are just ignoring Tristan because like...once you’re in the haunted game in a haunted tomb in a random part of India--it’s kind of moot to argue about who’s fault that is, youknow?

Joey reminds us that he found this quest item in a treasure chest under a secret waterfall. No one says “that was convenient that you landed there after getting chased through a ravine by man-eating birds after you got your dragon from when you got your crotch injury from getting spliced by that tree.”

Which is when Tea says “Wait! We haven’t had a plot thing happen in like 4 seconds! Wait!”

Hey what degree of “I don’t trust nature” do you have to be to assume that all the flowers are trying to eat you?

Like what level of anxiety is Tea where she not only is like “pretty sure the flowers are going to destroy us?” but also...she’s correct? Like she’s not wrong.

They set the dog flowers on fire, but unlike the Jungle Book this doesn’t solve any problems (which apparently got taken off the Disney+ kid’s menu so...yet again, I make a Disney reference in these recaps that future generations will not understand because so much of the Disney library has been banned from the vault. It’s almost like Disney should let go of that copyright they held on for like a hundred years, because what they’re holding on to is only going to get more racist with time. But nah. Gotta hold on with their greedy mickey mouse gloves.)

So instead of using fire, Tristan used his monster to electrocute the air (?) and blind the dogs. Wisely, the animators quickly jumped to this other scene so we wouldn’t have to analyze why it’s suddenly daytime or why that plan would even work.

Joey and Tristan do a lot of buddy buddy stuff this arc. Usually we see a lot of Joey and Yugi’s bottomless friendship, but we don’t get this much Tristan/Joey love. So shippers rejoice, these two seem to have several coordinated dances and songs...and I’d say that teens don’t typically do that, but I went to summer camp, there are situational places where teens will sing the entire vacation and make coordinated dances.

Weirdly, since Joey and Tristan share so much time together, this also means Tea and Yugi actually sit next to eachother for a lot of this arc, almost as if they were a couple. Mind you, they’re chaperoned closely by Grandpa, but youknow...that’s a different energy than I’m used to seeing.

That and like, they can’t have Tea dance with them because last time she did a dance, it was like a DDR fight and she elbowed some guy like it was a fisticuffs situation. Like there was some sort of dance war going on behind the scenes of Yugioh’s card war, and it came up once and I guess Tea resolved it and the dance fights haven’t come back since.

Overall, if they did a dance with Tea, they would get kneed in the face, so that’s probably why they insist on doing cancans as a duet and not a trio.

After Joey and Tristan freak out over having no food, Tea decides to just start eating in front of them.

and like...didn’t Joey eat that food yesterday? Like last night? The short term memory loss on all these fools.

Immediately after this we realize something weird in the water. That’s right, it’s a massive head.

Yugi seems to have forgotten they lit this turtle on fire and electrocuted the entire sky the night before. Not that it mattered.

There were like...nesting birds on those trees on that island. What the hell? They just killed so MANY of those man-eating dogs that are flowers.

Seriously are land turtles allowed to just...dive underwater for long periods of time? How does that ecosystem even work? It’s like...That’s wild to think about.

Inside the temple, they have to fight a genie or something.

In case you were wondering, the only reason Tea and Grandpa got iced is because they were the closest to the door. The two who were actually standing out of harms way were the closest to harm the whole time.

Bro tells me this is also what will happen to you if you are in the front or the back of the party while playing Cthulu D&D

Anyway, Pharaoh decides to disclose that his big problem of feeling guilty all the time and taking all the blame, which he did all of last season...is still a huge problem he will probably never tackle.

Straight up, don’t be fooled by my caps, everyone else has completely forgotten about Alex, who is still running around that temple up there. They haven’t even asked Grandpa “hey is this your protege? Is this your mentee you never told us about?” Nah. They already forgot. 

How wild is it that Pharaoh thinks this is all his fault when he was the only one who was like “YUGI IT’S A TRAP DON’T GO IN THE- well...OK I guess we’re doing this, fine.” Is he upset he didn’t take control from Yugi and walk back to the plane? Because that’s the only way he could even be partially responsible, He was the only guy who was like “I see the end from the beginning on this y’all, and it’s the massive pyramid in India.”

Speaking of forgetting, they came across this language Pharaoh has decided to have nothing to do with.

This was actually a riddle and it was like...it was a riddle, sure, I guess.

And so Joey Wheeler does not hallucinate his dead wife from a previous incarnation and get on the back of his Baby Dragon to sail away into the sunset. Instead they’re just gonna walk.

Too bad Tea’s orb covered in wings only seems to hover a bit. Every single wing on that weird orb is absolutely useless.

And then Pharaoh’s pokemon is just a fire--which is hard to sit on--and Celtic Guardian...who would allow it, sure, but probably doesn’t fly (I think. He might fly)

And then Tristan’s Pokemon kinda seems like if you sit on it, you will get electrocuted. It can probably fly though. It’s very round. Seems like an anime thing that the more round your mascot character is, the more likely it can at least bounce a good distance.

So, next time, I’m just going to assume that we are going to do even more camping. And youknow, if you told me exactly HOW MUCH CAMPING was in this card game show with super future tech, I would not have believed you. But like...a lot of this series is set in the woods right? Like a lot a lot? I have grown to appreciate the woods.

Anyway, as always, if you just got here, this is a link to read these in chrono order:

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

See you next time!