#but my sweet necromancer gets everything they want

[gracien-maybe]

you're a canon dragon age character to me curren ingellvar 🥺💕

[livingsurreal]

More thoughts and theories about our favorite Necromancer

My darlings, I have too many thoughts and my obsession is running wild. (How I missed you, hyperfocus). If you have read my last meta post about our Emmrich, here it is: First Meta Post

That is not a required read however. I am still wondering why anyone is reading my word vomit U_U

Anyway, I love reading other peoples theories, so please, send me yours. <3 And a lot of thanks and love for all you darlings who make this fandom such a beautiful and nice place. Especially to @jaal-ama-daravv - who makes the most beautiful videos, and writes such wonderful character studies.

Warning, from here on there will be spoilers as well as mentions of sex. If you don't want to read about any of that, do not read the rest.

Also pictures and way too many words. This is a ten page word document, save yourself while you can. I tend to go off on a tangent once I start writing. I am also well aware that not everyone will agree. This is just my personal read on Emmrich.

Now, after my first essay I have some more thoughts on Emmrich and Rook and specifically their intimate relationship.

Emmrich is such an interesting and baffling contradiction. On the one hand he is confident, self-assured, all manners and poise. He is smart, and he knows it. He has special gifts, and he knows it.  He is confident without being proud. He likes to teach others without being arrogant. He still likes to learn about new things and is, as far as I’ve seen, never judgmental about different beliefs and ways of life. (Unless someone treats him with disdain or bully him)

He is a man who is confident speaking of his thoughts and feelings and fears. How he just casually drops his thanatophobia is just astonishing. He is honest and open-minded in the best ways.

And then there is the other side of him. The wet kitten side of him. As open and honest as he is about his emotions, when we get to the meat of it, to the scary bit, the real feely bit, he locks up completely. As long as it is surface level (or he can pretend its surface level), everything is up for discussion. But once we reach deeper and touch *love* he gets so scared and refuses to admit and commit to his feelings. And as much *death* scares him, love scares him more.

So how does that influence his intimate relationship with Rook?

According to the banter with Lace “everyone knows about it”. He was rather surprised by that.

That tells us two things:

They were trying to be sneaky or at least keep their private business private.

They failed, massively.

Add to that Laces comment about them moving rather fast (when, where? I would have loved to have seen that. Comments like that just give me the feeling that we should have had some more cutscenes after the dinner date, to show us those two besotted fools).

But back to them moving rather fast. I would guess that they both did a lot of gazing lovingly at each other, blushing, spacing out while watching their darling, stollen kisses in the hallway when they thought no one was watching, stuff like that. Just being to besotted fools.

But moving fast usually includes sex. Lots of needy, sweaty sex. The inability to keep their hands of each other.

That moves us to the question of the day – did they have sex before their coffin time?

Let’s look at what we know about Emmrich. Emmrich is no virgin. That man has experience. He had past lovers. But what he tells us at that sweet diner date – “nothing serious for years.” We know not much else besides his crush on a boy in his youth and his fling with the Orlesian Art Lady. He is not someone to kiss and tell and that is appreciated. That man has class, and we love him for it.

So - nothing SERIOUS for years. If he hadn’t had ANY relationships in the past years, he would have said so. But what he says is that he did, in fact, have UNSERIOUS relationships in the last few years.

I would read that to be somewhere along the “fwb, lovers, affairs, paramours, companions, a fling, a little romance” line. Something not purely, but mainly physically driven. Someone you like and respect, you can go out and have a good time with, have lots of amazing sex with (b/c he is a living being and has his needs). Spending time with people he liked, was sexually attracted too, but nothing as serious as love. A physical relationship. A little thrill, some fluttering, but never that deep.

Not to say that those situationships would not have been romantic. He is (buried under all that resignation) a deeply romantic man. I am pretty sure he went on nice romantic dates with his previous paramours too. That this is something he just enjoys too much. Treating a companion with some quality time, not just in, but also out of the bedroom.

But after he’d given up on his dreams, he did not have any notion of those flings being more than a “enjoy the moment”. There was never the expectation of deeper feelings, beyond friendship, attraction and/or respect. All those romantic gestures were nothing more than a little bit of “play pretend”. To give himself the illusion of true romance, just for a little time.

Take the fact that you can go a “everything you do is creepy but I still flirt with you and I want you to throw me over that tombstone” and his comment on “the attraction of the forbidden”? This is not a relationship born of mutual respect and deeper feelings but out of purely physical attraction. And he is OK with that.

I want to repeat – Emmrich is very much okay with a casual, sexual affair. He does not require love to have a relationship with someone.

And then think about that Johanna calls Rook specifically his “paramour”. Which is a lover, especially an illicit one. This word was very specifically chosen by Johanna. For various reasons, I would think.

For one, I do believe that it is a dig at his dreams of the eternal flame. It’s a dig at him, that Rook is not his love, but his paramour. A lover for a time. To be parted from soon enough. B/c that silly dream of his, as if it ever would become reality.

Second, I think it is a comment on the way his relationships often went, especially in the past years. Those unserious flings of his. Never to amount to anything substantial.

Did he try to have something serious in the past? Oh yes, for sure. But it never worked out. Then he gave up his dream and just let himself have a good time with people he found to be nice and attractive.

To pick up my point of self-sabotage from my last meta post – I’ve come to a point where I believe Emmrich is a kind of chaser. I know someone like that and it’s so fucking tragic.

Emmrich feels deeply and strongly. When he falls in love with someone it’s a lot of emotion. But at that point it’s all dream, want, wish. As soon as someone returns these feelings - those dreams, wants and wishes become reality. And reality is scary. In this wishful dream about the eternal flame, there is no fear. No fights. No loss. But that is not reality. As soon as it becomes reality, he gets scared. Before, his feelings were no threat, because you can’t lose what you don’t have. Once those feelings are returned, there is a clear possibility of losing, of being lost, of being left behind.

Emmrich is not a chaser because he enjoys the hunt. He is a chaser because being loved by someone is scary. So damn scary. So, he starts to pick fights and is looking for excuses. From being the chaser, he becomes the chased. He is hunted by his fears, and his fight or flight instincts go all flight.

After years of this cycle he gives up. Resigns himself to flings and little romances without even thinking of more. Or so he thinks. Dreams like that don’t die, they just get buried.

And I’d think that there was not many, even of those short term flings, lately. His life revolves around work and Manfred.

Now remember he comments on Rook “showing unexpected interest in a new companion”.

First of all – unexpected.

They are a daring adventurer. He thinks of himself clearly as the more boring one, compared to Rook. He never expected any of those flirts. But he is clearly flattered.

Second – companion.

That was such a weird way of saying “hey do you like me?”. This whole “companion” thing does not scream “I have FEELZ for you/you have FEELZ for me” but rather, “I think you might want to spend some quality time with me”.

The possible answers - dashing good looks, kindness, his way of words.

He feels he is fortunate if Rook thinks him good looking. Hallo, Mr. Professor, sir… Have you looked in the mirror lately? Consider that he is meticulously grooming himself, takes his exercises daily in the morning. That man does not like himself aging. I think it is a reminder of how his pending death is a step closer every day. But it shows, to him, that his efforts of taking care of himself are not in vain. Or maybe it shows him that his age does not matter. Rook finds him attractive despite (or because) of his physical age.

Rooks comment on his very charming way of putting things makes him hope his years behind the lectern have proved useful. Hey *years* behind the lectern. Again, this is a way of saying his age is NOT a problem but a benefit.

If Rook remarks his kindness, he answers “you humble me”. It’s the one answer that does not touch his age/experience/looks. It’s a remark on an innate character trait he possesses. Kindness. His whole demeanor in this option shows he is actually touched. And maybe a bit baffled. He did not expect this, at all. Its like he sees his kindness not as an attractive trait. Which he should. He is nice without TM and its sexy as hell.

The next part is his statement “If your attentions go beyond charming flattery… that would interest me, indeed”. This reads to me not necessarily as “do you have feelings for me” but as “do you just enjoy the flirting, or do you want to do more than flirting?”

And oh boy, does he want to do more than flirting. I want to repeat my earlier statement – this man has given up on love. But some little fling with an exiting young adventure who was constantly, awkwardly flirting with him? Hell, yeah.

(I want to remind you that we were able to have mutually enjoyed flirts with Dorian as fem!Inky. You can flirt with someone and still never want to fuck them. And you are also perfectly able to want more than flirting without having deeper feelings. Like sweet, dump Shepaloo said it so eloquently “Lets bang, okay?”)

Again, I want to pick up a point of my last post, that this is all surface level thoughts. I do believe that their emotional attraction and depth of feelings go deeper, from the start. But how often does it take quite a bit of time to realize one’s own feelings. Especially this wonderful, silly man whose modus operandi is running away.

Now, an interested Rook can answer in an open “lets see where this goes” way. Mirroring his rather open idea of a little romance, a fling, some quality time. Something that does not have to end in an eternal flame, but a simple enjoyment and exploration of the moment.

Rook can also reply with a “I think they do.” – What Rook actually says is “I think they already…”

And conveniently Rooks answer here is cut short by our sweet boy Manfred. They get cut short, no matter what answer you choose, but in this specific case, I am convinced this was very much on purpose. What would the whole sentence have been?

“I think they already go way beyond flattery.” (?!?) Something along those lines. But that goes into danger zone. WAY into danger zone.

If Rook had finished that sentence, at that point in their budding romance? It would have been over before is all started. Too much, too soon. Too much for him, period.

Now we have the hard lock – their sweet romantic moment in the Memorial Gardens. And he is smitten. He fell hook, line, and sinker for his own play pretend. Just a little romance, but that man is falling, fast. (Not that he would admit that to himself).

A beautiful date, all arranged by Emmrich, to spend time with Rook. Because a couple should have a quite moment to get to know each other. I mean there were menu cards with gilded edges, ffs. And, oh yes, they were “lets dig into the feelings”, he said couple. He is falling, falling, falling fast. But it still hasn’t hit him, how deep he has fallen for his darling Rook. Poor Emmrich.

Then a fight, where we really see the wet kitten side of him for the first time. A little wet, feral kitten, hissing at the hand that’s trying to feed it.

Emmrich is lashing out for no good reason (or no good reason for anyone but himself). There is no real confidence there but a desperate act of pretending. An iron (slipping) grip, trying to control himself and the narrative. Shoulders squared, back straight, an arrogant stance, raised chin, turned half-away from Rook, and a condescending way of talking to Rook.

Like I said in my last post – he is working his way up to breaking up with them. And he tells himself it’s like ripping off a bandaid. Be strong and confident and say what you have to say, and they will see the wisdom of that.

It’s only that, they don’t. Because there IS NO wisdom in what he is doing right now. They don’t take his bullshit but throw it back at him. They don’t accept his mock excuses.

Look at him here, how he looks down ON them. I can’t recall any other time he looks down on Rook, despite him being a tall king.

Especially the route where Rook throws it in his face that he DOES in fact love them. Speak what he can’t even think.

“I can’t… At my…”

“I can’t love you. At my age…” Why not? Does he not deserve love, just because he is a bit older? It’s just heartbreaking how he views himself.

And again, he lashes out.

“I am perfectly serious.” So is Rook.

“One of us has to pay attention to these things.” As if Rook is not paying attention. They got to the meat and bones of his problem in just a few seconds.

No matter what route you go here, the gist is the same. He is scared shitless, treats Rook like a child, and goes on how the is the only one thinking the important thoughts.

When Rook in reality way ahead of him. They thought about it and came to the conclusion that being with Emmrich is a really good idea.

Rook knew they were falling for someone older than them. (Even if that age difference is just a decade, with a mid-40s Rook.) They knew it, and still went with it. They are not a child who is too inexperienced and stupid to make decisions about their (love) life.

But now, here, at this moment? Emmrich treats them with disdain. Like a silly little person, who does not think things through. He holds himself above them. Physically and mentally. They are too young, he knows better.

And not once has he done that before. He always treated them as an equal. He follows them into the most dangerous situations ffs. He trusts them with his life in a fight against would-be gods.

All that fear and anger at himself that reaches a new high get redirected at Rook.

The next day they are off to Tearstone Island. That night must have been hell. For both of them. But its going to get much much worse.

In any case, Emmrich seems to have come to some conclusion or realization, because on that island? He apologizes.

They both did react very emotionally, but he came at Rook with superiority and, to a certain degree, dishonesty. All fueled by his fear. So that he is the one to take the first step and apologize to Rook instead of doubling down? An important step. As I said in my last post – he NEEDED to be called out. A sweet and nice counterargument would not have had the impact Rooks raw an honest emotion hat on him.

Emmrich “Rook? Darling? I wanted to say-“

Rook “Yeah, about that argument…”

Emmrich “(Sighs) It’s no time to apologize, is it?”

And here we have the most heartbreaking line, in hindsight. “We’ll talk back home, Emmrich. I promise.”

(Narrator: but they would, in fact, not talk about it back home. Because someone would not go home.)

One fight and weeks of horror later, they find themselves in a private crypt and finally they do more than share a kiss.

Now - to the point I originally wanted to explore with this post – is this in fact their first time? (I am sorry, but my brain is a circle and nothing makes sense)

Let’s look at what evidence we have from the cut-scene.

Rook did not know he is an early riser.

That leaves two possibilities:

They never had sex up until that point.

They did have sex, but never spent the night together.

Now what does that mean?

This depends a lot on your personal Rook and how they feel about sex in general. If Rook wants to wait, or is not ready, he will absolutely accept and respect that.

But for the sake of this analysis lets go with the idea that Rook is not opposed to sex at an earlier date.

They never slept with each other

Why? He clearly was not opposed to casual relationships in the past. What would hold him back now? Especially if you recall Laces comment about them moving fast. Why not jump into the bedroom?

Now my first crack theory is that they get interrupted, like every time. (Rook interrupted The Dread Wolf, and now he cursed them to always be interrupted when they want to have some private time)

But now, in all seriousness, maybe it’s just that part of him DOES realize that this goes beyond a very unserious relationship. That they both have deeper feelings, that spark of something greater, something beautiful.

So, he holds back. He does not give his all. He is charming, he is flirty, he takes Rook on dates. But it’s all very technical. Very performative. Yes, he is a very romantic man, yes he enjoys those moments. But there is always a feeling of control.

Those moments when you see him let go a bit (that kiss beneath the eternal lovers, “I think, sometimes you indulge me”), are so beautiful and you glimpse a bit of the man behind those walls.

He has a tell, you see. (I am telling you about it further down)

But generally, he feels very much in control of himself. And to lie with Rook? To go all the way? Too dangerous. Who knows what happens in that sweet moment after la petit mort? What secrets would his lips spill?

2. They slept together, but did not spent the night together.

They do have sex, but sleep alone in their own beds. Casual sex is fine, but to fall asleep in each other’s arms? Too much. Too real. Sex okay, but sleepy post coitus cuddly? Woah, slow down your horses.

So, they have sex, preferably in Rooks bed. First, does he even have a bed? Second, it’s way easier to leave Rooks bed after the act, than throwing them out afterwards.

Oh, and how many reasons he has. Rook needs their uninterrupted sleep; they are stressed and must have proper rest. He wants to get some reading done before he retires. He needs to look after Manfred.

Oh, he is a bad liar, for sure. He is lying more to himself than to Rook. I would think that (if this is the build up to their fight) Rook realizes that he is giving poor excuses.

And the sex itself? A technical 10/10. He knows his anatomy, after all. But his heart is not really in it. He can’t allow himself to. He holds back, keeps a tight lid on his emotions. They both are well spent afterwards, but like so much else, it’s performative. Technically very well executed, but rarely do you see HIM, the real him, behind all that performance. Whenever something slips through, he reels back and closes up.

And then we are in that crypt. Rook was gone for weeks. The last thing they said that night before were words of anger. Rook called him out on his feelings and from that point on there was no possible way of lying to himself anymore. Those feelings were there. They were real. Rooks feelings were real. And those weeks spent in desperation, trying to  get them back? Those walls came crashing down.

His true face, when all the walls are gone? You see that face when Rook leads him to the coffin. There is no pretense anymore. No performance. Just him, and all his love for Rook. The amount of emotion the animation team packed into those short moments in the cutscene? Mindblowing. Who ever crafted that expression on his face? They are the GOAT. I watch this part of that scene on repeat, and it never gets old.

So, I told you about how he has a tell, yes? Okay, two actually, but we all know surprised pikachu Emmrich. In that last scene it is resolved in the most beautiful way.

He looks down, when something touches him deeply, when he goes into his feels.

A few (way to many) examples:

And the worst wet kitten look? After the fight, when Rook leaves.

Its a look of shame. Of hurt. This man is hurting so badly.

Now here at the end we have that moment when Rook leads him to the coffin. His face turns down, like before. But here he looks up at Rook. He does not turn his eyes away but looks directly at them. Ahhh my heart.

Now, think about the fact that ROOK is leading in that moment?

In those moments where Rook leads or startles him (or is simply annoying enough so that the truth slips out), you see the most emotion from him.

Rooks flirting startles him, and he has a pikachu face reaction every time.

Their first kiss? Rook leans against the monument, and leans up, telling him without words that NOW is the time for a kiss. How can he not go for a second kiss?

That moment when Rook calls Manfred “our son”? He very conveniently ignores the word “OUR” and goes in defense mode over the word “son”. But called out on his feelings for Manfred? How can he deny them? He has tears in his voice when he says how he would not exchange this moment for anything? A real, deep emotion.

In their fight Emmrich is again all technical, all performance, so logical (or what he sells himself as logic). But Rook wrestles that moment from him and takes lead, calls him out on his bullshit.

In the crypt Rook pulls him up into a kiss and then leads him to the coffin, guiding him, taking him with them.

Most of the other times he takes the lead, very much in control. But the most emotions you get from him, are those times Rooks leads, when he lets go of this tight control over himself, or he is startled in to a reaction. For all the age difference that is played up in their relationship, in the important moments Rook is the one who guides. And he follows where they lead.

Those little moans he makes? If they did have sex before, I bet he did not make those sounds then. Where they did have some incredible sex, now they are making love. Open, vulnerable. He gives in.

And then they fall asleep together. Skin to skin, arms and legs intertwined. Their hands caressing, no sound but that of their heartbeats and soft breaths. Pure and utter contentment. In that moment nothing exists but them. Can you imagine that moment he woke up? The amount of emotions he must have felt then? This need to speak those little words? Those huge little words. He does not say them, not yet. But he is almost ready.  

Finally, they stand there, on the battlefield of Elgar’nans madness. And he tells Rook. The last wall falls. Gives the most precious thing he can give to anyone.

“I love you.”

[louloulemons-posts]

heyyy. i saw your taking logan fics. do you think you can write a fic of logan and reader but she’s very girly and bimbo like? thank you 🩷

Claws and Frills

wolverine x fem!reader

(x-men wolverine, he’s a big boy)

summary : At first Logan didn’t know how to take you, but now your the first person he finds when he returns to the mansion.

word count : 0.8k

warnings : not proofread, fluffy, petnames (reader calls logan kitty and the famous bub), readers a necromancer, mentions of violence, blood and killing, readers not really described - only her outfit , hanks a bit of a dick, very very sweet, no established relationship.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

At first Logan didn’t know how to take you, you were unlike anyone he’d ever met. Cooing that Charles had adopted a pet ‘Kitty-cat’ when you first met one another.

It had taken him a few months to realise, you weren’t being condescending, you were truly that sweet and slightly ditzy. Saying that you had the gift of necromancy, controlling those who had passed, along with their powers if they were mutant.

Logan strolled outside of the mansion finding you, lay on your stomach reading a book, a soft lilac blanket beneath you.

A pink dress and short white cardigan hug your figure, as your pink converse lay discarded beside you, showing your white frilly socks.

“Hey Bub,” the man called out, walking over to you. With a grin you turned to him, “Kitty, come sit,” Scooting over to make room for his larger figure, the smile never left your lips.

With a soft groan he sat down next to you, laying back, hands behind his head. “How was your mission?” you asked, placing your book to the side to have your full focus on the man beside you.

With a shrug he spoke, “Went well, stopped the guys.”

“Any blood spilled?” You questioned, head cocked. “Less than last time.”

“And you?”

“Me?” Logan pulled his sunglasses down to rest on his nose, so he could meet your eyes with his own dark ones. “Did any of your blood get spilt?”

“Nothing I couldn’t heal from Bub.”

“Logan you promised-“

“Sometimes it can be helped,” he cut you off, “I did everything I could to be safe and come back to you in one piece, and look here I am.”

He motioned to his long body, dressed in a flannel, unsurprising, a pair of jeans a boots. “Well even if they killed you, you couldn’t be rid of me.”

He laughed, “You’re awful.” With a pout, you sat up on your knees, “What? I have to use my freaky-deaky powers at some point!”

“Freaky-deaky? Is that the technical term?” He smirked. With a groan you spoke, “Don’t, you sound like Hank.”

Logan’s face went serious, “What’s he said to you?” He was ready to shred that blue asshole to pieces for making you feel insecure.

“Nothing, he actually apologised. Charles told him he’d upset me. I mean I know I’m not the smartest sometimes,” Logan tried to cut you off, but you didn’t let him.

“But, I’m not stupid, we actually spent a lot of time talking about, neuroscience. Just because I’m not a total badass like Storm or Jean doesn’t mean I’m an awful hero, I just …” You sighed.

“What Bub?” Logan pushed himself up so you sat face to face. “I just don’t want to stop being myself, and my… gift already makes me feel like I have too.

“Maybe I was given the wrong one, would have been better if I could control plants or I don’t know, talk to animals.”

Logan smiled, pulling a cigar out of his pocket, which you snatched away without a second thought. If it was anyone else, his claws would be out, but it was you.

“Your power doesn’t define you, you know that right? You’re you. You’re sweet and kind, and anyone or anything you’ve controlled with your powers has been as respectful as you can make it.”

“But I’ve killed.”

“And you’ve saved.”

“But-“

“Bub, you’re good, and Hank isn’t a people person, he just talks sometimes. Nobody is a special or as badass as you, I promise.”

“Not even you?”

He titled his head, thinking for a moment, “I might be a close second.”

“Third, Erik’s more scary than you … and Jean oh and Scott-“ he put a hand over your mouth.

You couldn’t help but smile against it, causing his lips to twitch upwards. He pulled his palm away, “Thank you Kitty.”

“Never have to thank me, you know that.” Leaning forward you placed a soft kiss on his cheek, wrapping your arms around his neck. “You really are my favourite person, you know that?”

“You’re crazy,” he said making you laugh, arms coming round your waist, “But you’re my favourite too.”

Pulling away you stroked his face gently, “You’re a good man, you know that right?”

“You tell me most days. Now read to me,” he said, falling onto his back, hands going back behind his head.

Crossing your knees, you sat beside Logans figure, his eyes falling closed. One of his hands moving to stroke your leg softly. “What are we reading?”

With a smirk you spoke, “Pride and Prejudice.”

Logan groaned, “Again?!”

“Hush Kitty.”

And hush he did, listening to your soft voice hand never leaving your leg. Remaining on that soft blanket with you, until the sun began to set and the stars rise.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Thank you so much for reading!

i honestly can’t believe i’ve never done a logan fic but deadpool 3 brought back my obsession big time.

I hope you enjoyed.

Please leave any requests 🫶🏻

[raedas]

where in the locked tomb universe are we?

or: a tentative guide to the solar system in the locked tomb and which houses go where :)

[id: a diagram of the solar system, including pluto, with additional white text overlaid over each body. the sun is labeled dominicus, mercury is labeled the sixth, venus is the seventh, earth is the first, mars is the second, jupiter is the third, saturn is the fifth, uranus is the fourth, neptune is the eight, and pluto is the ninth. /end id]

note: i'm pretty sure people have put together similar analyses before, but i wanted to try my own hand at it! and please feel free to share if you disagree with me on anything & your own evidence and thoughts <3

evidence & analysis under the cut!

THE NINTH HOUSE:

okay, this one is pretty much just a freebie. if you didn't know that the ninth house was on pluto, then, uh... sorry! i'm not going to exhaustively go through all the evidence for this one, but some things that stick out are the cold, gideon's awe at how close the first house is to the sun, and the fact that it's the "ninth" to begin with—the house that wasn't really meant to exist, perfectly in line with the planet that isn't really a planet THE FIRST HOUSE:

this one is given to us just as much, if not moreso, than the ninth. with that in mind, i'm just going to do a quick run through of the evidence that the first house is earth: it's very blue and covered in water, there are ruins of civilization, it's "the first", so on and so forth. home, sweet home :)

THE SIXTH HOUSE:

Then he said, "The sun has stabilized. Hope the Sixth House didn't get cooked in the flare." (Harrow the Ninth, 490)

this line is pretty much the entire selling point for the sixth being on mercury, the closest planet to the sun! (until they run away to the other side of the universe, that is)

THE SEVENTH HOUSE:

There were other planets that made their homelands closer to the burning star of Dominicus--the Seventh and Sixth, for instance--but to Gideon they could not imaginably be anything else than 100 percent on fire. (Gideon the Ninth, 67)

the implication here is fairly obvious: the seventh and sixth are on venus and mercury, or vice versa. thankfully, since we have the sixth squared away as mercury, it's pretty obvious that the seventh is located on venus

BONUS MYTHOLOGY FACT: venus is the roman goddess of beauty! (also known by her greek name, aphrodite). "seven for beauty that blossoms and dies", huh?

THE EIGHTH HOUSE:

"I squeal so long and so loud that they hear me from the Eighth." (Gideon the Ninth, 26)

while this line is obvious hyperbole, to me it implies one of two things: either the eighth is the farthest planet from the ninth, or it's right next to them. and since we know that mercury already has its hands full with sixth house, i think it's safe to assume that the eighth is on neptune, the ninth's next door neighbor :)

THE SECOND HOUSE:

"We went through the same shitty questions of what to do. What about the Mars installation, what about the fusion batteries?" (Nona the Ninth, 74)

john helpfully offers this tidbit to us when he's recounting everything that happened leading up to the apocalypse to harrow. i think it says a lot that there was a mars installation even before the apocalypse properly hit, and it makes sense that said installation would eventually become a proper House, with a capital H

BONUS MYTHOLOGY FACT: mars is the roman god of warfare (known in greek as ares)! looks at the second house and how closely they're associated the cohort... yeah, i think that speaks for itself

THE THIRD & FIFTH HOUSES:

"I thought we'd end up on the Third or the Fifth, or a sweet space station, or something." (Gideon the Ninth, 56)

"We are not becoming an appendix of the Third or Fifth Houses," continued the necromancer opposite." (Gideon the Ninth, 58)

okay, here's this bit where things begin to get a bit hairy. repeatedly throughout the books, we're told about how the third and fifth are the two "big" houses. harrow's scared of them and worried they'll make the ninth one of their appendixes, gideon originally thinks the entire lyctoral meeting will be on one of their planets, so on and so forth. with that in mind, it really isn't that much of a stretch to think they'd be situated on the two giants in our solar system: jupiter and saturn. we'll come back in a moment to sort out which is which!

THE FOURTH HOUSE:

aaaand uranus is the only planet left! congrats, fourth!

THE THIRD & FIFTH HOUSES (again):

"Naturally [Isaac] is Pent's protégé. I hear the Fifth takes special pains with the Fourth... hegemonic pains, some may say." (Gideon the Ninth, 170)

from this quote, as well as the whole of jeannemary & isaac's relationship with magnus & abigail, we can surmise that the fourth house is very close to the fifth house (hegemonic though it may be). it's reasonable that that metaphorical proximity is reflecting (or caused by) something else: physical proximity. with that, i think it's fairly safe to assume that the fifth is on saturn, putting the third on jupiter

DOMINICUS:

aaand finally, the center of the solar system itself! i really, really don't think it needs sharing that dominicus is the sun, as long as you accept that the locked tomb takes place in our own solar system. however, i do think the meaning of dominicus is worth sharing. coming from latin, it translates roughly to "lordly", "belonging to god", or "of the master." very subtle, john, very subtle.

[kydrogendragon]

Dreamling fic idea I'll probably never get around to:

Dream is the highest ranking cleric in the city. His gifts are sought after by all and the cost of his services reflect it. He has treated and healed everything from Kings to Demi-Gods. But he is tired of his position. Those he cares for and treats are grateful, yes, but his services are almost expected. And the one time he fails because the bishop was too far gone, even for Dream's skills, he was berated for his failure. Whispers echoed through the kingdom that the High Cleric Dream was losing his touch, that the gods that favored him so are losing interest.

Dream begins to think that maybe they are right. Then he meets Hob - a necromancer that works out in the battlefields, mostly. Someone who he would normally never cross paths with until he does. His sister had advised him that a change of scenery could be good for him and his soul. To recharge and rest a moment and reconnect with his divine gifts.

Hob is helping carry in the wounded and sick from the most recent skirmish in the outerlands. Dream hovers, watching as this captivating handsome man, covered head to toe in grime and blood and dirt, gently guides his fellow soldiers towards the healers bay. And then he walks towards the bodies of those that had not made it.

Hob kneels by the dead, and Dream watches with curiosity. Necromancy was not viewed highly. Most necromancer positions were ones of war, raising the dead so that they might keep fighting. Dream wonders what possible reason this one might have for raising them here in the city. He freezes, thinking perhaps Hob was a traitor or spy and is planning to unleash an attack.

But no. No, as the young man's body beside him jolts to life, a wheezing, gasping noise releases from the cold dead lips. And Hob just smiles. He grabs the corpse's hands, giving it a gentle pat, and says, "Easy there. It's okay. The pain is gone, yeah?"

The corpse just nods.

"Good. Good," the Necromancer says. "You asked me, said if you died on the field-"

"That you'd bring me back, I remember." The corpse speaks, his voice rough. The sight is unsettling to Dream.

"That's right," the Necromancer says, smiling still. His voice is warm and low. Dream strains to hear it from his hiding spot. "What did you want me to say and to who?"

Dream furrows his brows in confusion. What odd game is this man playing at?

"Tell my parents... that I loved them. That I'm glad I got to serve my kingdom as I had. I... I did, right? I did good?" Dream's heart clenched at the quivering in the young soldier's voice. They remembered. They preserved their memories and thoughts and feelings. But...

Dream shook his head. No, corpses brought to life by necromancy are just reanimated. There should be no soul left within them. That is what every teaching has said before. The only exception being a corpse that is reanimated within mere minutes if dying. But this soldier died on the battlefield. He died days ago, at the least. So how?

"You fought so well," the Necromancer says. Dream sees tears fall from those warm brown eyes. "You saved many lives out there. You served king and country well."

"Good," the soldier says with a sad laugh. "Good... then. Then tell them that as well, please? And... and if you can find my brother, his name is Calrose, tell him I'm sorry for all the shit I gave him when we were young. And tell him that he was right about the ale. He'll know what I mean."

Dream feels he ought to turn away from such a seemingly private moment but he finds he cannot. He's transfixed on the sight.

"And tell my girl, sweet Alice, tell her I'm sorry I couldn't keep my promise after all. Tell her I tried and that I-" And the young corpse bursts into tears. Or sounds like it, at least. There are no tears to be shed but the pained wail that is drawn forth from his throat couldn't be mistaken for anything else. The Necromancer leans toward and holds the young boy in his arms, ignorant of the rotting flesh and stale blood.

"I'll tell her. I'll tell them all. Don't you worry," the Necromancer whispers against the man's skull. There is a large gap in his head, Dream realizes now. His skull looks to have been smashed by something strong and heavy. It is most likely how he died. "You can rest easy now, lad. Be at peace. You've earned it."

And as the Necromancer lays the young man back down, Dream watches as the boy takes a final, shuttering breath in and sees the light in his eyes fade as the air is released. He is still once more but with the barest of smiles on his lips.

Dream is dumbfounded by this. By all of this. Everything he feels he knows has been turned upside down by a single man. So he follows him. He watches his movements through the city and witnesses many times his strange version of necromancy. He also witnesses the joy and sadness that it brings to the loved ones he tells each corpses last words to.

It's in a tavern, down by the ports, that Dream officially approaches the Necromancer. Hob, of course, picked up on his newest shadow that first day. It wasn't until just recently that he realized who it was that had been tailing him. And he's petrified. Hob well knows that necromancy within the walls of the kingdom is forbidden unless authorized. He thinks Dream is there to arrest him.

But no. Dream just wants to talk. And he doesn't ever mention his position as High Cleric either. And guessing by the black hooded cloak he wears, Hob is guessing Dream doesn't think he knows who he is either.

So they meet more often. Hob tells Dream of his life, of his experiences. He tells him of his experiences with Necromancy, specifically, and how he's found that more clings to a corpse than you might think. Especially if they had things they still wished to say.

Then one day the kingdom is attacked. The forces manage to breach the outer walls. Dream is darting all around, healing as best as he can, trying to help bolster their offenses. He sees Hob in the chaos of it all, rising corpses to help the fight. It is the first time he has seen this type of magic used in battle. It is the first time he sees Hob wield his skills for a fight.

Then Hob is shot at, an arrow sticks out of his chest and blood is running down his chin as it floods his lungs. The corpses he commanded fall to the ground as his focus breaks. Dream runs to him, ignorant of the continued onslaught. He holds Hob's hand as he calls forth every ounce of his drained power to breathe life back into damaged cells. But the arrow was poisoned. Death magic clings to the arrowhead and infects Hob's body from the inside out. He removes the arrow and allows his magic to flow inside, coating Hob is a warm, white light. He is healing, but it is slow. And with Dream drained as he is, he cannot overwhelm the opposing magic as he might normally. Still, he continues. And he is winning, slowly.

And then more arrows strike the pair. Dream covers Hob's body with his own but the thick cloak he wears only protects him so much. The garb he wears marks him as a Cleric and he has heard enough stories and read enough tales to know that picking off the healers early on is a prime battle stategy.

Hob tries to push him off, to cover him instead, but Dream holds him down, even as the venom embued in each strike weighs him down, Dream continues. Hob begs him to stop. That he'll kill himself if he keeps this up. And Dream knows that he is correct. He will die. But, he finds, as he summons forth the last reserve of his strength, he does not mind dying if it means Hob gets to live.

Besides, there are still words he would say to Hob. He will see him one last time before he goes for good after all.

He pushes all that is left of him into Hob and the death magic fades away. There is only light and love left in his cells. No more poison. Hob is safe.

Dream collapses. Hob scrambles up and drags them both out of the line of fire. Most of the enemy soldiers have left, continuing up through the kingdom. There is a clashing of steel and iron and the sound of magic being flung in the distance. But all Hob can see is Dream. His face lax in his lap. It makes him want to laugh and cry all at the same time because the first time Hob gets to see that beautiful face this calm is when he's dead...

Hob pulls the arrows from his body, discarding them in a pile and pulls the man's body close to his chest. He wishes, not for the first time in his life, that his gifts were of healing instead. Hob bows his head and kisses the soft skin of Dream's forehead and he whispers the words he has heard Dream speak before. Healing words. Hob feels a strange tingle within him. It responds differently than the magic he is used to. And then it is gone.

Hob frowns. And, going off of instinct, he speaks the words that he knows like breathing. His normal powers flood through him but they are also different. It twirls within him, mixing with some sort of foreign piece. But he continues, calling forth for Dream's spirit in the Ether and guides it back to his body. A soul cannot be reattached once the link between is broken. But it can reside there for a time. This is what Hob has learned over his years of study.

And today he is proven wrong. He watches as the chain that links them heals. It glows in a brilliant white light as Dream's soul is guided by golden hands that he knows are his own magic.

Hob looks down.

Dream's eyes open. And he smiles.

The best they can figure, once the kingdom is secured and the people and healed and tended to, is that Dream's own magic stuck with Hob and allowed him to perform both Cleric and Necromatic Magic simultaneously, effectively bringing Dream back from the dead.

It is something that needs further research and is happily agreed and funded by the Crown. Hob is promoted and works side by side with Dream now as they continue their research. They still go down to the healing bays on the weekend. Dream assists with the wounded and Hob still gathers the dead's last words. Life is good. Better than is has been. And Dream finally feels like he's rediscovered his sense of purpose. And Hob? Well, Hob's finally found what he thought he's never get: Love.

[cairavende]

My wonderful girlfriend got me Gideon the Ninth for Christmas and I realized why should I just give Worm recaps? Let's read some Locked Tomb! (We'll see how this format works, maybe I'll adjust it. Specifically might break stuff down into smaller segments instead of full acts, but I didn't think of doing this until after I had read all of act 1.)

Gideon the Ninth Act 1 (chapter 1 through 8) thoughts:

This book is so gay oh my god

Like, it's gay in ways I can't even explain. I love it.

Harrow beats the shit out of Gideon in chapter 2 and I don't know if I've ever seen someone get beat up in a more gay way.

"Oh Griddle! But I don't even remember about you most of the time." ROLL A FUCKING DECEPTION CHECK HARROW! You are saying this standing in the middle of the field you spent all night burying bones in just to foil her escape in the most dramatic way. You can't stop remembering her.

Gideon is the most herbo of herbos. I fucking love her. I love reading her PoV. She just knows punch and stab with sword and if those don't work than she'll just do them harder.

Also Gideon is SO fucking gay. Dear god. Dulcinea faints and Gideon turns off all though. HELP PRETTY GIRL. Nothing else.

Ok I could just make this whole thing "EVERYTHING IS GAY" but there is technically more than that.

I love how weird everything is and how little explanation is given. I don't want pages of exposition, I want to learn the world as it comes at me! This is perfect.

And just the very nature of things that seem weird not being given more than a passing thought in the book is information. Something may seem wild to the reader but it's so normalized to the characters that they wouldn't even think about the idea of it being different.

Lack of explanation also helps really show how much of a meathead Gideon is. Do the readers get to learn details about this thing? Only if it is a weapon, has tits, or Gideon is forced to listen while Harrow explains it. Otherwise no, why the fuck would Gideon spend her precious few brain cells on thinking?

And even if Gideon is forced to listen as Harrow explains it, the readers might not learn much cause Gideon might stop listening. I love her.

Aiglamene is wonderful. Crux is fine but I like her more.

Poor Gideon just wants a big sword that she can swing hard. It's not like she can't use a rapier. But why when she can go big sword?

SO MUCH CATHOLICISM

As someone who once was Catholic and then realized I was actually not a straight man, but instead a lesbian, I am in deep.

And the fucking slang used! Or whatever would be the right term. The shit they say! I love it. Just the weird sci-fi far future space necromancer universe and then suddenly "Are you asking me to . . . throw her a bone?", "Gideon had always known that this would be how she went: gangbanged to death by skeletons.", "Don’t hypothetically shove stuff up my butt again, it never does any good.", "Lo! A destructed ass.", "Well we were developing common sense, she studied the blade.", "Double Bones with Doctor Skelebone."

House of the First appears to be Earth. I kinda assume the House of the Ninth is Pluto, even though things obviously aren't in order given that the Seventh and Sixth are closer to the sun. Of course, I'm kinda expecting this to not technically be this solar system at all.

Undying Emperor, King of Resurrection, I Have Ten-Thousand Titles, Boss First, etc etc hasn't been on "Earth" in over nine thousand years. I wanna know MORE.

And the fucking Ninth House has their own prayer! Everyone else has one that the Ninth didn't know and then the Ninth had one that no one else knows! GIMME MORE!!!!

Also again, so many Catholicism metaphors or comparisons or whatever!

I could go on forever but gonna end this one with OH MY GOD SHE FOUND SUNGLASSES I LOVE HER. Fucking "I came prepared, my sweet." and "But then you couldn't have admired . . . these!" as she whips on the sunglasses. God. I nearly died.

[starlos-soulmate]

Your self insert looks cool do they have Lore

Ooo Pancake? Why yes, yes she does!! And a lot, actually. I'll TRY to keep this relatively short.

Pancake is my self insert/persona and I use her for almost everything. It's all Pancake in different universes. And there's two backstory categories that they all fall under: Demigod and Poor Teen.

But before all that, Pancake is a hybrid between an alien called a Terrorvant, and a human.

They are MASSIVE, some reading a size that's five times larger than a blue whale. And Pancake can only reach ten feet. They also have shape and color shifting abilities, though some traits will still poke out. And they have acid blood. That they can shoot from their mouths. At high temperatures and velocities. They are VERY protective of their loved ones. They'll make friends and let others make friends, but if someone threatens them or a loved one, HEAVEN HELP THEM. Pancake had inherited this.

Let's start with: DEMIGOD!!

AUs this is a part of: Leave Death to the Professionals, I Scammed Death, and a couple others, I can't remember

Leave Death is the base universe where Pancake is from. All the lore bits and whatnot are from here. It's where Skittles is too. Pancake accidentally slipped and ended up killing herself, and through Death, found out she was a Demigod. And a necromancer. There's loss of morals, humanity, letting herself indulge in things she never could because there's no ultimate consequences. She is a nightmare, a menace, and be wary if you piss her off

I Scammed Death:

My self ship with Spamton. Pancake falls into the Cyber World and stays there indefinitely with her trash husband. How sweet :3

And now for the others: POOR TEENAGER. This one has no demigods or Skittles or anything else. Pancake and her friends like to ghost hunt, explore abandoned buildings, and try to summon ghosts. The summonings are typically uneventful, but they still have fun. Pancake, however, found an old book in a library about necromancy. Being silly, she took it to her friends and wanted to try the hardest spell. It wouldn't work, they felt, and there's no repercussions if they fail. Safe. Except she did the spell perfectly. And she's now a necromancer who can't die, can talk to the dead, and is having an existential crisis over it. A lot less dramatic than the Demigod category, but it fits into certain AUs better. Such as:

UNDEAD4UNDEAD: An AU where Pancake and Springtrap are together. (Ask me about this one cuz there's a LOT here). Pancake somehow can't leave the cursed Freddy Fazbear's franchise. It always comes back to haunt her. And she ends up getting a literal rotten boyfriend out of it

MSA/PANTHUR: This one is slightly different, on account she became a necromancer in her adult years. Her friends died in a caving accident, and she learned necromancy to bring them back. Unfortunately this never fully worked, as they moved on and she became a slasher. How she's a part of the Mystery Skulls is a mystery. But she's not knocking it. It also allows her to move on.

PORAL 2/OTCORE: Pancake was a scientist-turned-test subject. Because of her dad's genes, she had an advantage over the other subjects. And to compensate for this, the scientists cut off her spines, wings, antennae, and tails. And then put her on ice. And then GLaDOS killed everyone else. She takes place of Chell in this AU, and ends up with three boyfriends. She has no idea how. She lost her memory, has inexplicable phantom pains, and instincts she can't ever describe. Surgery scars are all over her body and she doesn't know why. It hurts. Existence hurts. And she doesn't know why.

STARCAKE: everyone knows this one. Pancake falls into the Underground and eventually marries a cowboy. Not much here!!!

And now for others cuz they're in completely different universes

CULT OF THE LAMB: Pancake is the Lamb. She had to disguise herself as a cat for years after her home was destroyed. She learned Glassblowing, was found out and killed, and became the next God of Death. Her horns are glass, warm to the touch, and unbreakable. Her husband, is indeed, Narinder!

RAIN WORLD/FRUITSLICE: Pancake, AKA Fury of Neglected Ghosts, aka Ghost, is the senior in her group. She had to leave with her sister eventually, and met No Significant Harassment, as well as the others. She's MASSIVE for an iterator. Strong too. She has killed Leviathans with her bare hands. She acts cold and distant. She just doesn't wanna be hurt.

HOMESTUCK: Yeah. Fuchsia blood hiding as. Not that. And she's a nightmare too.

Anyway that's it. There's a LOT more but I haven't developed enough for them. And I hit my image limit. Hope this is fun!!

[carnatus89]

DnB December prompts @alterdnbweek

Day 22: Royalty AU, Loyal knight

This one is probably my favourite and the last one I made. Alongside drawings :D

Most knew him as the Golden Knight. It started with his looks, radiant smile, sun-kissed skin and golden curly locks that looked like molten gold. He has heard it all, from whispered adoration to outright shouting it in his face as he passed. He doesn’t really care, he never cared about his looks in the first place, he just was lucky in that regard.

The title really stuck when his name came with the position of his job. As the personal guard of the prince of the Antarctic Empire, next on the line to become the king, he faced difficulties in order to protect the young prince. He was pitied, no one wanted to deal with the troublemaker that was the pink-haired man, no one could try to reign his thirst for adventure and escapades. He was the Golden Knight, because he was the only one who could keep up with the prince and keep him safe.

It makes him laugh.

What Golden Boy? A street rat who was picked from the lowest a human could get. Who had to fight tooth and nail for a bite of food, in order to survive to fight the next day. One who had the brand of his previous master branded on his back, a smiley face that he adopted as his own mark when he tore out that bastard's neck with his own teeth. Ah, what a good, sweet young man, who no one suspects that each scar on his body was erased with the most obscure and taboo magic known in the realms. If they knew, his head would be on a pike, his body paraded and his name dragged to the mud. He’s not some perfect little soldier, he’s a murderer, previously a slave, a necromancer. He’s nothing but the monster parents warn their children at night.

And the prince? The one people think of as spoiled rotten, all his deeds forgotten, rude and condescending? What a joke.

That man is the only one who deserves his loyalty, his sword and shield, his protection. Even if he doesn’t need it.

That prince is the only one he can’t defeat.

The future king is a powerful man, both in political power and raw strength. He doesn’t talk much, less to other royals and nobles. Of course those pompous people think of him as rude when he just leaves a conversation when he loses interest. He works on his physical power, training day and night, just to be the best warrior there is. The prince told him one day that he wishes to be able to just run and fight for his survival, to fight and fight until his final breath. To be able to bathe in the glory and blood of his enemies, to embrace the violence that courses through his veins. To lose himself in the blood.

He laughed that time. To think he was serving a lunatic.

But he respected his strength, his words weren’t empty, he never made a proclamation or a promise that he knew he couldn’t comply with. In his world, promises were everything, so knowing this man would always say his truth, even when it isn’t pretty, was refreshing.

He knew that when he asked to join him as his personal guard after who knows how many times they encountered each other and fought, he knew he could say no. He wasn’t sacked, he didn’t owe him anything, he could walk away a free man and no one would hunt him down for it. But he said yes.

That was his downfall.

Despite his reputation, the young prince was handsome, his face chiseled and sharp, his long pink hair like the fine silk he wears to balls, and his muscled body built from rigorous training. His warm voice, like a campfire on a cold winter. His blood red eyes which electrify him everytime he looks at him. The way his body moves in a display of power each time they fought, his sword an extension of his arm, much like Dream’s sword was his own. Maybe that was also part of the reason he said yes, even if he didn’t know it at the time.

He thought he would suffer. The prince wouldn’t hurt him physically, that he promised, but he knew how people can twist his words, to omit their intentions. And he did suffer, though now he knows it wasn’t the prince’s intention. The way his heart ached like it was a festering wound was new to him, but he had survived worse. He knew his rank, his station. He could never be anything more than the Golden Knight to the prince.

But then, their fights changed. They never stopped fighting, they both enjoyed it, so even though they weren’t runaway prince and thief anymore, they still fought. They changed locations, clothes and titles, but they fought all the same. It stayed the same, until one day the prince just, stopped.

He sat on the ground, never caring about his prince image, and gestured for Dream to sit next to him. He did, and they talked. It felt different this time though, when they talked in hushed tones, usually to trash talk some noble, it was all jokes and jabs, but they maintained their ranks. There was distance on their speech, on their body language. This time, the prince leaned on his space, his hair touching his face. He looked tired, but with a glint in his eyes that showed determination, usually when he was braving a fierce opponent.

He always had that glint when he looked at him. So he didn’t look surprised. It did surprise him the sudden warmth in his lips.

He regrets punching him. In his defense, he was surprised.

In public, they stayed with the same formality and distance as before. They would refer each other as prince and knight, they would perform the duties expected of them, and they would stay together, just out of reach.

The prince’s escapades became their dates, not only for the prince to indulge in his most violent ways. Instead of the man searching for trouble to punch or slice, they would go on the cover on the night to some no name place to enjoy themself. It was fun, it was everything Dream could imagine a relationship would be like and more. The passion, the warmth, everything he lacked in his previous life he had now with the only man he could ever think to give his freedom for.

So he didn’t trust it.

He knew royals, he knew how fickle their interest may be. How could the prince give all his power and status for a lowly life like him? No one but the prince knew of his background, he held all the power in his life now. He gave it willingly, but he was still afraid of what he would do when he became bored, when this development would fade away. He knew he would keep his rank, but he didn’t think his heart would recover when this was all over.

And then, the prince gave him a rose.

It was a glass rose, a really fragile thing that he put in his hair. The coloured glass played with the light, making it shine like it was light itself. It was beautiful.

“I wanted something to match your eyes. I’ll keep looking.”

He kept a hidden room in his room for all the next gifts he got. From glass statues to emeralds, to rubies, to gold, he never saw as many precious gems and valuable objects in his life. And it was all his. Only the people who are close to the prince know that he shows his love through gifts. All his family own an emerald earpiece which signals to all that they belong to one another. Both king and queen have golden collars made by the prince. Both his younger brothers have tiny bracelets of jewels that the future king arranged. His personal horse has a braid made with red silk and a lock of his own pink hair.

The ring was a simple but beautiful thing, small enough to hide under his armour, to attach to rope and wear on his neck, to slide on his finger whenever he wanted. The gold shines as if made of sunlight, the surface smooth when he passes his finger. It has just one jewel, the most shiny emerald he has ever seen before. When he turns it around in his hand and looks in the mirror, he can see the same shade of green in his own eyes. It’s like his own eyes where the jewel, staring at him from this artifact that the prince, with a satisfied smile, gave him.

“Finally found the one.”

It was real. That’s why he had to do it.

The prince has a name, but he doesn’t like it. It’s a name for a prince, a future king, a monarch. He didn’t like it, he wanted another name, something that was his. Dream understood, ‘Dream’ wasn’t the name his mother gave him, it was the name he earned on the streets. It was actually ‘Dreamon’, he just fashioned it, it was his to modify after all. So the prince chose a name, one that screamed his enemies every time he showed up.

The Blade never dies.

That’s why he had to do it.

Blade was more than his prince. His loyalty was more than simple duty, it was an act of love. He loved him, and he indulged in his aspirations to fight, even if he knew that it would be his downfall in the end, the thing that would ruin them both. He loved him as fiercely as Blade loved to fight, so he would follow. Always. Maybe this makes him selfish, maybe he doesn’t have the right to choose.

The Blade never dies. So this time, Dream would make sure to make it so.

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

He doesn’t ask for many things. Mostly because he knows the things he really wants can’t be granted. He doesn’t hate his parents because of it, he understands. But he hates it nonetheless.

They can’t give him permission to fight everything he wants in sight, they are royals. What would the other nobles think? What would the populace think? He doesn’t care, but his family does. And above all else, he loves his family. He can’t go because he loves them, so he would just sneak when he can. Most think it is just to loiter around, which is fine by him. He’s fine with his actual reason to stay hidden, he doesn’t care what others think, he’s his own person. As long as they despise him for it, not his family, it is fine by him.

His escapes were a way out, to breathe, to stretch, to be. It was an act of desperation, so he didn't really have a plan. Just a cloak with a hood big enough to cover his hair, the planiest clothes he owned and his trusted sword with bandages wrapped around the hilt to hide the eye-catching decorations, though it wasn't a really good job to hide it. They couldn't make him out as the prince, but as some eager noble, with a fat purse and even fatter ramson.

That’s how he met him. A smiley mask, a black cloak and a sword aiming for his guts.

He was dangerous, he was quick and he was beautiful. He was everything Blade asked for. He was his match, he didn’t back down, he fought like that was all he had done in his life, and Blade became addicted to it. He wanted more, the violence that rose with him everytime he woke up screamed for the man, and he was always willing to indulge in his primal instincts.

He followed every trace he left behind when in the castle, and then followed him physically on the streets. Everytime he escaped the castle, he came to the streets to search for him, and fight him. The man always escaped, and Blade always ended wanting for more. He didn’t care who that man was, he wanted him. To fight, to see and touch. It became like an addiction that threatened to kill him. He embraced it, he loved the taste of the poison.

One night they fought and talked between each clash of their blades, and the man realized he just wanted to fight, not get revenge. So they met often after, to fight, laugh and fight some more. It became their thing, and they became friends in turn. So much that Blade didn’t crave to fight him anymore, he had it already. He wanted to see his face, to laugh at him, with him. He wanted to pet his golden hair, wanted to grab him by his tiny waist. He wanted to run his hands over his perfect body, kiss the man until both could forget the whole world. He wanted him at his side. He wanted so many things.

And this time he could ask for it.

He was elated when Dream said yes. He was scared that he would leave him, that Blade would scare him away. He promised that he will always be protected and cared for. That his rank and job would always be his as long as Blade was there. That he would have the freedom to walk away if he chose, and no one would hurt him. Dream accepted, so now it was time to ask his father.

He doesn’t ask for much, so when he asked for Dream to be his personal guard, he said yes almost immediately.

The Golden Knight and the Troublemaker Prince. Sounds like a cheesy novel. But that was his actual life. He had now a partner in crime, one who knew of his secrets and would indulge him. They escaped the palace to fight other bandits, slavers, whatever. The thrill of the fight was different now with someone on his side. It didn’t subside, but it now included Dream. They were now a pair, and the moment Blade had a taste of him, he couldn't live without it anymore. His addiction became critical, and when Dream reciprocated his feelings, he felt like he was a new man.

He needed him at his side, his golden hair and green eyes were everything he would dream. He went mad looking for something that could even match that color. The gold band needed to be exactly as warm and shiny as his hair. The gem was an expensive gem, but he didn’t bat an eye at the price when the jewel stared back at him. ‘The eye of Ender’ the supplier said was its name. It was perfect.

He knew Dream didn’t trust his devotion, he thought of himself less than his title. That’s why he gave him the ring. They couldn’t marry, not without repercussions, but it was a promise. No matter what, they would always be together.

He didn’t think he would break that promise.

He never thought what it would be like to die. ‘Blade never dies’ they say. But he was mortal, and a sword piercing his chest was probably a bit too much, even for him. He became reckless, and paid the price. He was mostly fine with the outcome, he kinda searched for it in the first place since his first escapades, trying to escape the boring mundane life of the prince. But then he heard the cry of Dream, and knew that he made a mistake.

He would be leaving Dream behind, and that wouldn’t do. Blade needed him, and the man needed him back. He couldn’t leave like this. It wasn’t worth the thrill of violence.

He felt his hands on his face. Usually they were cold, but now it was the only warmth he felt, the only place he was trying to cling to life. His eyes could see his blurry figure, the only two things he could disting was his molten gold hair and his magical green eyes. He was crying, and Blade hated himself for being the reason for it.

He felt a tug on his chest, trying to pull him down. But Dream held on.

And held on.

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

His hands were shaking. They were sticky with blood and tears, a mix of both Blade’s and his. His heart was racing, like a caged bird on a box. He cradled his lover’s head in his hands, bringing him onto his lap and whispering comforts. For him or himself, he didn’t know.

He didn’t know if it would work, but he had to try. He loved him, he couldn’t let him leave, for he was a selfish man.

He was no Golden Knight.

He remembers the spell that his mother teached him before she disappeared. The magic was forbidden because of its secondary effects, she said that it made the life around it to die, made souls crumble to ash and blood, and made the humans affected by it a husk of their former self. That's what the people said, his mother showed him otherwise.

“Flesh would reattach itself, wounds opening on another body. Disease would cure itself while another rots from the inside. But for the soul to remain, it needs another as an example. To attach someone's souls to your own, you must love them very much.”

He loves him. He doesn't care what that means. He loves him.

So he had to do it. He had to use his power, even if he thought he would never have to use it again. Even if he condemns his soul for all eternity.

He feels his heart spasms for a second, bringing his lover closer to his chest while the magic works its course. The blood circle shines and he feels an energy on the center of his body festering and emerging like a living thing, trying to rip through him like he’s but a cocoon. Even with his eyes closed, he can see through his eyelids light, green and red pulsating and combining until a mix of both colors remain, and then fade away. His chest hurts, his teeth hurts, his arms hurt. He can taste blood on his tongue. But he doesn't let go.

Until a gasp sounds, and Blade rises.

Dream helps him to sit down. The prince coughs blood and some black liquid that builds on his throat and eyes, his tears mixed with the inky substance. He cleans it gently with his hands, though they're smeared with blood, so he just makes a bigger mess. Both of them are a mess of blood and black.

But they're alive. It worked.

“Blade.” He can't help his soft tone, to see his lover alive when he saw the light leave his eyes, when he saw him take his last breath. When he stops coughing he hugs him, bringing his head on his shoulder, to be able to feel his rising chest and his warmth. To feel him alive again. He can't help the tears on his eyes.

His lover hugs him back, kissing his neck, his breath raggedy. His arms circle his waist, locked into place and preventing any of them from getting away. He doesn't mind, even if it hurts a little. They're here, they're both alive. They're both fine.

But that was a lie.

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

“I had to do it.”

Once they both catched their breath, they make a list of priorities. First, they needed a safe place to stay for the night, one where reinforcements from the bandits that killed Blade wouldn't search. They were in the forest, on their former base, and when the prince fell, Dream ignored the ones who escaped in favor of tending to his lover. So they traveled at a quick pace, finding a hunter’s house that was left since it wasn't the season right now. They didn't care about breaking the door to get inside, searching for salves and bandages, because, well. They both were still bleeding.

That was the second, patch themselves up. Dream worked quickly, bandaging his wounds, which were pretty light. He stole a quick look to Blade and saw that he was doing the same, although he was fumbling with the bandages, coming dirty with black blood. Once he finished with his own wounds he made his way to his prince’s side to attend him. And, well.

Necromancy as a practice was forbidden because of misconceptions, but it was true that a person that dies, doesn't come back the same. His blood was red when the light hit it just right, but it was such a deep color it may as well be darkness itself. Blade already had pretty pale skin, but now it was almost sickly, just a tint of color enough to not mistake as a walking corpse. His crimson eyes were now like a red moon, its light colouring even the white with red blood, a ring of black the only thing that remains of his pupil. He was otherworldly, another, and so bewitchingly beautiful. Like the first time he saw him on that fateful night.

He picked the fresh bandages and lifted his lover's shirt to bandage the wound that killed him.

It was bleeding sluggishly, the wound almost closed on its own. An angry red marked the fair skin, ramifications like a spiderweb reaching across his entire chest like a brand. It was cold at the touch, a contrast with the warm skin underneath. He cleaned as well as he could the wound and wrapped it up. And once he finished, he looked at his silent prince.

He was looking above him, not quite the ceiling. His eyes looked glassy, like he was looking at nothing, but at the same time his eyes were moving like he was trying to catch something fast. Like they weren't alone.

“Blade? Love?” He takes his hand, and the prince focuses on him. He looks… lost, confused, but he can see the happiness in his eyes when he looks at him. He's sure his love can see the same in his eyes.

“Dream.” He takes his face in his hand, stroking his cheek lovingly. The guard leans on the touch and hums, caressing his hand with his thumb. Now that all the earlier ordeal is over, they can breathe.

And reality comes down.

“I had to do it.”

Blade looks at him. He feels the warmth in his hands, the intensity in his stare, the rise in his chest. He knows that it was worth it, even if both of them are now damned for it. It's better than the alternative, better than Blade hating him.

“You were dead. I had to do it.”

“I know.”

“Now we are… one. Our soul is one, if I die you die with me. “

“I know.” Blade strokes his cheek, and smiles. Like they were talking about what they're going to do the next escapade. It was comforting, even if Dream didn't understand it.

“Aren't you… mad?”

“I was dead, you brought me back.”

“At the cost of your life.”

Blade laughs. “That sounds like a contradiction.”

Dream can't help his own laugh, but still, he feels a confused rage inside him.

“You know what I mean. You can't be a prince like this. Not anymore, you're a zombie now. They’ll want you dead, both of us.”

His mother disappeared when he was young. She was a necromancer, all his family were once upon a time. When people found out, she casted him aside in hopes of him surviving on his own, without a witch as a mother. Anything was better than that. It's funny, he now walks the same path as his mother, despite everything she did to prevent it. And he has dragged his love with him.

“I know. Thank you.”

He doesn't expect the words that come out of the ex-prince’s mouth, even less his lips on his own. He tastes blood, but he eagerly reciprocates, feeling his chest light as a feather. His hands cup his lover’s face to savour the moment, before they both need to part ways. He can feel the rough hands of the hair-pinked man on his hair, petting him.

“This is what we were both looking for.”

“What do you mean?” Dream can't really think right now, his mind too preoccupied in the relief of Blade not being disgusted by him. He knows of his magic, but he never used it against another person in his presence, much less against him. He still loves him, despite it.

“A way out.” His lover grins, his smile blinding. He can't help but match it with his own, prompting him to continue. “We are now wanted men. You're no longer a knight and I’m no longer a prince. We're just us. Together.”

“But… What about your family?”

“Even if they think of me dead, I know they still love me. And I still love them, they will be alright.”

“Are you sure?”

Blade puts his hands on his waist and brings him close, hugging him to his chest. He reciprocates, fitting together like pieces of a puzzle.

“We are free now. Even if we're hunted and damned, we are free.”

Dream knew what it was like to fight to survive another day. So this development wasn't really something foreign to him, it was actually what he expected to happen someday, no matter what his prince promised him, how hopeful the situation was. The trill came because now, he had a partner with him. No longer loyal knight and future king.

Just Dream and Blade.

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

Notes that didn't fit in the story one way or another:

All his family knew that Blade was basically courting his knight, they were fine with that. If he wasn’t the oldest and the future king, they would be demanding a wedding right this instant, and their brothers would be fighting to the death to be chosen as best man. Is bittersweet, because now they think Dream was a traitor all along, deceiving the prince just to kill him and experiment on him.

When Blade started going out he was basically bullshiting his way out. He had a hood with his mouth covered up and thought that was all that was needed. He was pretty surprised when Dream recognized him on sight as at least a noble, and then the prince. Dream is kinda glad he found him before anyone else with more malice saw him. After that Dream made him a boar mask so people ignore all the rest of his features since the mask is the most alluring part, and made him cover his hair better.

Dream was basically running around stealing whatever he needed on the day, everyday. He gets uncomfortable having possessions since those are things that can be taken away. That includes people, since when he was a slave he had an adoptive older brother that got taken away later when he was sold. He has contacts, mostly people who can supply him with illegal things or weapons, but he didn’t really try to keep bonds until Blade, and that only because basically Blade forced him to.

The blood circle for resurrecting Blade is basically a ‘XD’ face.

Blade was born with the curse of The Blood, which made him want to fight constantly. This is now increased through the resurrection since he hears The Voices of Beyond now.

Dream and Blade are on the run, killing whoever finds them to keep the violence of Blade at bay and to stop people from talking about them. They’re also insanely cuddly since they can basically make out as much as they want. Meanwhile Blade’s family want Blade back, his body actually, since they think he’s basically a zombie. They want to bury him as a prince.

I never expected to make a Technoblade so down bad but it was really fun. Maybe I can properly write it as a short fanfic on ao3? Time will tell.

[vere-licious]

Would they be an Alpha, Beta or Omega?

Some thoughts by yours truly (dont take this seriously pls)

Ais - Alpha

◇ LOOK ME IN MY EYES AND TELL ME THIS MAN ISNT AN ALPHA

He is the epitome of an alpha

He is THE alpha

He is cocky cause he smells good ouh he knows he is the shit and thats why Leander wants him dead

◇ Doesn't use scent blockers like many monsters and also does not care enough to do so. Im not good at describing scents but just imagine the scent of the beach in the best way. Its warm and sunny and you just finished swimming and you smell your skin and you just get it (when Ocudeus takes over he smells like a stinking beach, fishy, ppl living by the beach if you know you know)

◇ His scent is pleasant and not overwhelming so at all so unlike other Alphas (Ahem Leander) so he would be very popular if it werent for that stellar reputation of his!

◇ He is a very territorial alpha despite his easy going attitude and so you are not leaving his presence without drowning in his scent. Thems the rules. He fully nuzzles your throat, wrists or whatever he can reach.

God help with any other tries to push their scent on you. They dead now.

◇ Was rut buddies with Vere, his rut is a mess to say the least. Lasts too long, his stamina is never ending and he will milk his partner dry. Basically consider yourself booked for the next week and more cause you are not being let outside when you two are together 🫡🫡

Leander - Do i even need to say it...ALPHA DUH

♤ He is the epitome of the charming alpha stereotype that makes the betas and omegas swoon

♤ Sweet and rich and oh so gentlemanly so polite and a charmer woow. Alphas hide your mates when he goes out!!!

♤ He smells like whatever alphas stereotypically smell, what ao3 says yall, warm and musky with a hint of his axe cologne.

♤ Despite his charms, his scent can be a hit or miss for most cause its so strong. He comes into a room and everyone knows who just entered. A little funfact is that when you really step on his buttons his smell becomes really unpleasant, acidic and overwhelming can be two words to describe it. It makes you choke on your spit and scramble to get away from it and its fully on purpose.

♤ Does not wear scent blockers and likes to even flaunt his scent, its one of his charms he says (Whatever you say bby)

♤ If any theory about dead Leander or necromancer leander being real i want to think he would stink and would try to cover it up as much as possible. He smells like death. A walking corpse. Maybe he is one.

♤ Always has someone to spend his ruts with. He is a very wanted alpha after all

Mhin - Beta

♧ I bet if any poor soul is reading this and think that Mhin are an omega or an alpha...hear me out

♧They are the mf in the middle of it all

♧ Born a beta with a sensitive nose, every day is hell on earth for them. Stuck in the middle of it all with alphas and omegas everywhere its a miracle they have not given up to wearing a mask that covers their nose everyday. (Dont ask them about leander he was an exception)

♧ Their scent is very pleasant and sweet and so clean (great description i know). They smell like you just washed your bedsheets and now you are rolling on them kinda clean.

♧ Imagine if betas are not affected by others pheromones and are just so neutral to everything. Mhin responds to alphas trying to choke them with their unpleasant scent to assert their dominance with just a :| cause WTF ARE THEY DOING? You look constipated, unclench your neck.

♧ They maybe helped Leander with his rut once and said never again, they couldnt walk the next day

♧ Wears scent blockers cause they dont want to be detected during work

♧ Extra points that Ais scent is the most pleasant one that they have ever smelled on an alpha and that makes them BIG mad.

Vere - Omega

♡ The most expensive and bougie and cut-throating omega (very literally) you will ever meet. Dont try to pull any alpha bullshit of asserting your blah blah blah. He will straight up kill you.

♡ Beautiful, gorgeous and with a scent that can temp the devil, Vere dares not to hide his scent and simply flaunts it under everyones nose.

♡ I imagine him having a stronger scent than most of omegas with beautiful hints of amber. Its warm, its hot, its everything you imagine Vere to be.

♡ He fucking hates Lander cause he has a more sensitive nose than Mhin themselves and Leander STINKS to him.

♡ Ais on the other hand...Hmm Yeah..

♡ The oni is the only person Vere has ever spent a heat with because Vere enjoys sex yes, but heats are entire different thing. Thats when you are the most vulnerable and the fox man has it difficult to trust almost anyone. So if he spends a heat if you you are BLESSED.

♡ His nests are top tier tho, full of cozy furs and pillows and its heaven to sleep on. His favorite activity is to make them with you. Just your little face as you try so hard to rearrange the pillows and get the softest materias for him makes his heart race. Wash and feed him and take care of him during the heat and he will be yours forever.

♡ Remember that i said Vere has a sensitive nose? Yeah you gotta smell like him all the time or else someone is dying (Leander with his sticky alpha pheromones)

Kuras - ???

☆ This is where i struggled cause...Kuras is an angel right? It would be funny if he didn't have a secondary gender.

☆ Maybe this is me being boring but i think thats funnier.

☆ There is no scent around him. No scent blockers. He is just like 👁👄👁.

Because of his lack of scent he is very hard to read, scents betray underlying emotions sometimes and i think its hilarious to him when someone tries to figure him out and what he feels. Unlike Mhin who are an open book, Kuras has a perfect poker face.

☆ This also has the potential...Cause image you are having a heat or rut and he will guide you through it with soothing touches and words cause in his eyes your helplessness and how you simply give into the urges is absolutely adorable. Tsk Tsk silly little human.

☆ TOP TIER man to have in your ruts or heats. He will wash you and feed you and take care of you, make sure your nest is comfortable and all.

☆Will dutifully stay by the door each morning before he leaves for work so you can scent him. He think its cute that you are so thorough about it.

[hydrangeapartridge]

The Last Day of a Condemned Woman (Veilguard Female Rook/Emmrich)

Beware spoilers for Emmrich's quest line.

Okay so I wrote a little something thinking about the day Johanna would receive her punishment and Emmrich and Rook would have to say goodbye to her. Set after the events of the game.

It's a bit sad but also domestic Rook and Emmrich!

Enjoy!

«Darling, have you seen my collar pin ? » Emmrich’s strained voice was heard from the bedroom, distant noises of his shuffling around reaching Rook’s ears.

« I believe it would be in the box where you always put it away, on the nighstand ? » She replied from the living room.

« I already searched there an it wasn- » Emmrich started before he interrupted himself, then grumbled something intelligible. « Nevermind, I found it ! » He told her from afar.

Rook chuckled to herself. Emmrich was obviously stressed. It was unusual for him to misplace his belongings. He was a very organized and tidy man ; except for the eventual stray papers and books that could litter his desk when he was really engrossed in his studies. So much so that when Rook moved in with him, she didn’t quite feel at home in the space that he had inhabited alone for years. But that was ancient history. Now his cosy but spacious residence in Nevarra was their home. And Manfred’s of course.

Emmrich was stressed but he had reasons to be. Today was a big day.

« Urgh, now he has memory impairement.. I cannot fathom how you decided to attach yourself to that senile sentimental you call ‘husband’ » Johanna’s voice echoed from her skull under the glass container that Rook carried her in.

Husband. That notion was familiar too now. It had been a few years already since Rook and Emmrich exchanged vows, first alone in the intimacyof the Necropolis’ garden where they first kissed, with Shroud’s Kiss flowers in her hands and hair, and then in style with the people they loved in the beautiful scenary of her native Arlathann.

Rook sighed at Johanna’s usual bickering but didn’t grace her with a reply. That onlt served to irritate the undead more.

« I heard you again last night you know ! How that decrepit weakling can go at it like that without breaking his osteoporotic bones is beyond me ! »

It wasn’t the first time Johanna said something crass of the sort, yet Rook still blushed, remembering the events of the previous night. What started with her gently holding her troubled husband turned into less chaste activities to keep his mind off things when he got frustrated that he couldn’t find sleep.

It was a delightfuly tender moment, and a good way to then spend a good night. But Rook didn’t really want to share that with a half-liche power hungry necromancer.

« Jealous Johanna ? » Rook grinned, regaining her composure and usual cockiness. « You won’t be getting any anytime soon I fear »

Johanna only huffed indignantly.

After a beat of silence, Rook asked more gently. « So, ready for the big day ? »

« You mean the day I finally get to leave that sickenly sweet home of yours ? » Johanna scoffed again.

Rook was used to her antics, that old lady didn’t know how to express herself in any other way.

« At least my ordeal will end there » Johanna dramatically added.

Those Necromancers really had a thing for the dramatic.

The corners of Rook’s lips turned down. « It would be okay to be afraid you know » She said, lower this time.

« Afraid ?! Me ?! » Johanna of course was offended. « Unlike Volkarin I am not a coward »

She paused and the silence felt heavy in the room.

« I’ll face whatever will come, like I did everything else »  Her voice came from the skull, quieter this time.

Rook’s fingers ran over the glass of Johanna’s highly warded prison, almost synmpathetically. After a long trial, as well as years of researches and discussions, the Liche Masters of the Mourn Watch adjudicated the case of Johanna Hezenkoss, as well as the punishment for her crimes. And the day of judgement was this very one.

After a ritual in which Emmrich was to participate, Johanna’s soul would be cut from any contact with the fade, and then, all maimed and powerless, would be imprisonned in a forgotten dark corner of the Necropolis, guarded by spirits and warded by the most powerful of spells, for eternity. As a mage, Rook likened her fate to being made Tranquil. A fate worse than death, and a life of suffering for a soul that wouldn’t be complete anymore. It was a fate she wouldn’t have wished upon even such an ennemy.

Dear Emmrich in all his kindness and idealism voted against that cruel punishment, but he sadly wasn’t part of the decisive majority.

« I’ll miss you Johanna » Rook half jested half confessed.

All these years they had kept her, for it was Emmrich’s duty to watch her. When they could have put her away in an abandonned room, they chose to keep her in Emmrich’s study. Guarding her was a duty he took very seriously (like he always did with work), and which also allowed him to regularly converse with an old friend (on the rare occasions where said friend was in a good enough mood not to insult him). Johanna had been part of their lives since the Veilguard, and seeing her go was like turning a page over years of their shared lives.

If Rook felt nostalgic, she couldn’t begin to picture how Emmrich felt on this day. Given how long he took to get dressed, it must have been worse than she thought.

« Of course you’ll miss me » Johanna retorted « I’m the only interesting person in this house ! »

Rook didn’t pay attention to her and asked Manfred to go check on Emmrich.

- - -

If the Necropolis could sometimes feel warm, intimate and inviting, the room where they stood felt as cold as ice.

Emmrich stood before Rook in his elegant gold and black ceremony attire. The wrinkles at the corner of his eyes and of his lips were deeper than when they met, from age and from smiling so much since then. There was more white now than grey in his hair, but he still looked most dashing of all the necromancers present. However Rook could tell his posture was stiff and his shoulders tensed when he carefully took the glass container that held Johanna’s skull in his gloved hands.

« Thank you for accompanying me today darling » He whispered as not to disturb the ambiant calm.

« Of course. Wouldn’t want to miss Johanna’s retirement party » She joked to try and alleviate the heavy tension in the air.

« You know you won’t be able to attend dearest »Emmrich seriously replied. She knew that, he already told her so, but she let it slide. « And it’s best you don’t. The ritual might be… difficult to handle for unprepared souls»

Emmrich was frowning and Rook knew he wasn’t eager to participate in the curse Johanna would be put under. She wished she could support him further. She placed one hand over his and squeezed gently ; she couldn’t do much more.

« Let us get this over with » Vorgoth’s voice echoed behind them.

Emmrich let out a deep sigh and gave Rook an admitedly melancholic smile. « See you soon darling »

Rook waved and let out a casual « Bye Johanna » trying not to let emotion fill her. Her goodbye got no answer.

Manfred stepped beside her and watched Emmrich walk to the other necromancers, observing, curious as ever.

« Sad ? » He asked.

He kept surprising Rook everyday with how much he improved in magic, language, and these days even grasping human emotions, trying to understand them in his own way.

« Yeah. Saying goodbye is always a bit sad »

Manfred nodded with a contemplative whistling sound.

- - -

The group of mages performing the ritual was already in place. All Emmrich had to do now was open the large ornated doors of the grand auditorium and join them. This would be over soon and he would go back home with Rook and Manfred and forget about the horror of it all.

Taking another slow shaky breath to calm his nerves, he went for the door handle when a short call of « Volkarin ! » stopped him, making him jump in surprise.

He eyed down Johanna’s skull, blinking twice then clearing his throat to regain his composure. « What is it Johanna? Last words or requests maybe ? » He asked kindly, ready to listen to her like he would anyone on the verge of dying. She did terrible things in the past, but he still made it a point to respect the final wishes of a sentenced soul.

Johanna didn’t answer immediately, and Emmrich started wondering if she was stalling. But then her voice came out, low and softer, just how he remembered it from their shared years as students.

« Will you be there until the end of the ritual ? »

Emmrich’s gaze softened « I will » He promised.

A beat of silence. Then a voice from inside urging him.

« Be more strict with the wayward company you dare call a family would you ? » Johanna said when he reached for the door again. He stopped but before he could retort, she whispered her last words.

«  Live long, and live well, you impossible man »

- - -

Rook was tapping her foot nervously when the large doors of the auditorium finally opened. Waiting for Emmrich had felt like an eternity. She kept worrying something would go wrong. Johanna was full of surprises, and it wouldn’t have been past her to try and get out of her sentence with a few dirty tricks. She was relieved to see only calm necromancers exit the room, unharmed. Everything seemed to have gone right.

Now to see in what state of sorrow she would get her soft husband back.

Emmrich was the last to exit, stepping away from the group carrying the funeral urn in which the remains of what once was Johanna were trapped. He didn’t spare a word to anyone and rushed to rejoin with Rook. He stopped before her, looking down, inhaling deeply before he straightened up, repositionning his already perfectly adjusted collar.

« It is done » He told her, nodding his head solemnly.

When he looked up to meet Rook’s eyes, she saw how misty his warm brown gaze was. She tenderly raised a hand to cradle his cheek and gently wipped an unshed tear from the corner of his eye.

Emmrich leaned into the touch for a short moment of indulgence, then sniffed and cleared his throat, stepping back. « The ritual was messy ; old books, bones, dust everywhere... » He mumbled, keeping his crying in check with a rub of his gloved thumb under each eye. Of course he would blame it on allergies. He probably didn’t want the others to see how affected he was.

Watchers were supposed to be at peace with loss and accept it with detachment. Emmrich’s tender heart never quite achieved that, but to Rook, it only made him more human and more lovable.

Rook took his hand and slowly traced his pulsepoint with her thumb. « My dear husband, the love in your heart overflows it seems. » She smiled just for him. « Let’s get you home to a nice warm cup of tea »

« Home ! » Manfred chirped in, excited. « Tea and biscuits ! » He raised his arms in the air. « With sugar ! » He then added, mimicking the sugar clamp he loved so much with his hand. The spirit’s show of enthusiasm made Emmrich chuckle, the sound still a bit wet from his tears.

« Yes my dears. Let us go home »

[lemon-natalia]

Nona the Ninth Reaction - Chapter 15

i am very concerned about everything going on with Hot Sauce right now. she knows something is up with Angel, she was at the burnings, she’s looking out of the window for something. i really hope she hasn’t gotten caught up in anything to do with BoE, or some other kind of conflict, i don’t think it will end well for her 

once again i adore the dynamics at play here with Hot Sauce’s little gang. and once again something that is written in a way that makes it initially funny but becomes very sad when you think about it, Honesty doesn’t take the painkillers for his black eye so that he can sell them

Angel is getting progressively more tired and less put together, and was dropped off by someone in a car - i wonder if this has anything to do with when she had mentioned being not quite a doctor, potentially she was some kind of medic in a military context? also i initially make short comments in physical handwriting on my copies before typing them up, and no joke it took me a good five minutes plus rereading all the descriptions of Angel so far to realise that i had written the word ‘doctor’ and not something unintelligible like ‘cleerr’ 

no-one coming to pick Nona up is somehow incredibly ominous, i have a very bad feeling about it given we last saw Camilla and Pyrrha tied up in a BoE van, with no guarantee they made it back 

oh and we have what is possibly an actual name for Angel, Aim. though Aim could still be a nickname for something else 

there’s a lot of mentions of food so far, and what Nona does/doesn’t want to eat. Nona only seems to hate eating actual food, and is fine with eating objects e.g., a pencil, which makes me wonder if thats somehow linked to chapter 7, where Nona mentions being hungry in the dream. and wayyy back in John 20:8 he talks about he and mysterious-Halecto-narrator being hungry ‘rarely’. 

huh, i wonder why Nona is so insistent that Hot Sauce shouldn’t use the term necromancers? ‘zombie’ i can understand, but even Gideon (and Harrow i think?) use the term necromancers and it doesn’t seem to be anything rude. unless it’s a slightly different term with different meanings in whatever language Hot Sauce/the whole city is speaking 

Nona and Hot Sauce are being very quiet and secretive talking about BoE, so it seems to be not quite as open a topic as i had thought. and given that Hot Sauce likely isn't involved with BoE given her apparent dislike of them, i hope she hasn't gotten involved with someone worse or more dangerous

and poor Hot Sauce, she’s seen an awful lot. i can understand why she hates necromancers so much, the description of how they used exploding bodies as lures is just horrifying 

not ‘The Secret’™. i wonder if its about the fact that she can hear the RB? but then Hot Sauce makes a comment about the ‘organ market’ … i’m guessing it has to do with the little mentions of how Nona is unhealthy in some way. and it’s not good that apparently she really doesn’t want to admit it to anyone else, not even Palamedes who could possibly help

Nona’s relationship with Hot Sauce is really very sweet, but given the reality of what/who Nona is vs how much Hot Sauce despises necromancy to the point of calling the BoE ‘zombie lovers’, i’m very worried about what’s going to happen to them in the future

[lilareviewsbooks]

Queer Normal-World in SFF Books

Here are five books where being queer is the norm, aka there is no homophobia or transphobia at all! Not all these books are fluffy though -- most of them have heavy conflicts and a bunch of shit going down, but at least no one has a problem with anyone being gay!

These are my favorite kind of books and I have so, so many recommendations, so let me know if you ever want more of these :) And I can also absolutely do only fluffy queer books, too!

The Genesis of Misery, by Neon Yang

Mx. Yang's books are perfect for this type of prompt. The Genesis of Misery is their most recent, and the premise is absolutely killer. It follows Misery Nomaki (she/they), who is haunted by an apparition of an angel. While she is convinced she is mentally ill like her mother, and that her visions are a symptom, people around her seem more and more certain that she is actually some sort of messiah. 

I have my issues with The Genesis of Misery, but it’s a very creative sci-fi that’s worth the read. It includes mecha, interesting depictions of religion, which permeates the entire story, and, of course, excellent queer rep. We have characters who use neo-pronouns, a polyamory situationship and most characters are queer. Not to mention, it’s written by a queer and non-binary author, which is always a plus. It’s part of an on-going series, though, so be prepared to wait a little while for the sequel! 

Plus, The Locked Tomb fans might be interested to know that there’s a very cavalier-necromancer dynamic in this, and that Rebecca Roanhorse (who wrote Black Sun) described it as Joan of Arc meets Gideon The Ninth. 

Yep. You wanna read it, don’t you?

(Also, if for some reason you’re like: “gee, I really wish there was a black-and-white silent movie with a killer score that touched on these same themes”, then you should probably watch The Passion of Joan of Arc (Carl Theodor Dreyer, 1928). It’s not explicitly gay, but it is queer in my heart. And it rocks.)

The Locked Tomb Series, starting with Gideon The Ninth, by Tasmyn Muir

Since I mentioned it, I guess I might as well include The Locked Tomb in here! This is a Tumblr favorite, and with good reason, because The Locked Tomb fucking rocks. It’s hard to pitch it to someone without ruining the whole point of the series, but the first book follows a necromancer, Harrowhark and her sworn swords-woman, her cavalier, the butch-as-hell Gideon, as they’re summoned to the First House to compete to become Lyctors, the companions of God. 

Yeah, I know that’s a lot, and, to be honest, it’s probably not gonna make much sense to you at many points throughout the story, but that’s the point of The Locked Tomb - everything is confusing, and it’s about sapphics in space! 

The thing about this series is they’re the most unique books you’ll ever read. Every volume has a different approach to telling its story. There’s so many mysteries and it’s almost impossible to understand all the intricacies without sitting down and doing some work. The magic system is also the wonkiest, coolest thing - it involves eating people, sometimes, y’know. And, I promise, you’ll love every single second of it. Especially because there’s absolutely no homophobia or transphobia in any of it, and almost every character is queer as fuck - especially after the second book, when gender starts getting a little funky!

Winter’s Orbit, by Everina Maxwell

I love this book so much, and so know that it comes highly, highly recommended! I have a whole five star review on it you can check out here. (Do check trigger warnings, though! You should always, but especially for this one. I didn’t and they really got me!). 

Winter’s Orbit features my absolutely favorite trope - queer arranged marriage. (Nothing better - those three words and you know it’s gonna be a queer normal world, have some politics and probably be really fucking sweet.) This one is probably one of only ones out of this list where the romance is very predominant and serves as an important B plot. It’s also a standalone, but has a companion book in the same universe, called Ocean’s Echo, which rocks, too!

This one follows Jainan, a recent widower who is rushed into an arranged marriage with Prince Kiem in order to keep the alliance between their homelands intact. Together, they must navigate court intrigue I’m trying my best not to spoil and investigate Jainan’s ex-husband’s death, which might not have been an accident, after all...

In this sci-fi fantasy world, being queer is completely normal, and their system when it comes to gender is absolutely fascinating. People will wear little gender signifiers, like a wodden token for female, for instance, so that others know how to refer to them. It’s super cool to see these kind of things incorporated into the world-building, and it’s something you really only get when queer authors are behind the helm.

(Also, this was originally written online, and it was actually picked up and traditionally published! Which is so cool! Queer fics becoming traditionally published books is so rare, it’s so nice to see it actually happen!)

The Teixcalaan Series, starting with A Memory Called Empire, by Arkady Martine

This is another one of my favorites! I read it last year and it blew me away - so much so that I’ve been itching to re-read it ever since I finished the second book.

The Teixcalaan Series is a political sci-fi duology focusing on the themes of language, empire and cultural domination through imperialism. It’s amazing, and I wrote about it in a full-length review, here, if you wanna take a look! 

It follows Mahit Dzamare, from the tiny Lsel Station, who becomes the ambassador to the huge Teixcalaan Empire, whose culture she’s been in love with for ages. The problem? Something happened to the Lsel ambassador, and the Empire’s control over the Station has been growing ever bigger. To make matters worse, Mahit’s imago machine - the cerebral implant full of her predecessors memories and experiences - doesn’t seem to be working properly, leaving her with a ghost of her predecessor inside of her head...

With all the problems the Teixcalaan Empire has, it’s not homophobic or transphobic, which is a plus for us gays who want to read in peace. Mahit has a charged relationship with her cultural liason, Three Seagrass (yes, that’s her name; yes, there’s an in-world explanation; no, I won’t tell you what it is, you’ll have to read it and find out), not to mention all the hijinks she finds out her predecessor was up to. And none of it needs to be justified or explained at all - people are just gay, and that’s fine!

On A Sunbeam, by Tillie Walden

This graphic novel has a stunning art style, and, listen closely sapphics, absolutely no men at all. Yep. Literally there’s only women and non-binary people in this comic! 

And guess what? It’s available to read for free, here. Thank you, Ms. Walden!

Here, romance is also an important plot point. On A Sunbeam follows Mia, who starts working for a crew of repair-people who rebuild broken down structures. In another timeline, we flashback to her experiences at her boarding school, and to her relationship with a new student.

What’s most unique about On A Sunbeam - apart from the fact that there are no men at all - is it’s unique version of outer space. It’s almost historical, with huge sprawling marble structures decaying, surronded by trees. The ships are shaped like huge fish. You can feel the whimsy in your bones from the colors and the art style that Ms. Walden uses, here.

This standalone is definitely worth a read. And if you like it, you should definitely check out the rest of Ms. Walden’s work - it’s all as beautiful as this is, if not more. Her The End of Summer was one of my favorite reads, last year.

That’s all I’ve got, guys, but lemme know if you want more of these - I have so many, I can definitely recommend you more! Drop me an ask if you have specifications, too - I’m always happy to do some digging :)

[shouldaspunastory]

For @a-song-in-the-stillness and @dadrunkwriting

Tobias Rook x Emmrich Volkarin, (SFW, A-spec character, established relationship, communication, comfort) 890 words

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

Tobias Rook sighs softly, shutting the book they've been trying and failing to read. They're simply too tired and unable to concentrate to absorb it now, they’ve been reading the same blighted sentence over and over again for at least the last ten minutes, but neither can they seem to get any sleep, instead they rise from bed and gently pad out into the now silent living space most of their companions already retired for the evening and quietly begin boiling some water, hoping perhaps some of the tea blends Emmrich makes will help lull them to sleep, before startling slightly when they encounter the man himself.

Emmrich pushes himself up out of the chair he’s occupied, setting his book on the table as he steps into the open kitchen, the corners of his mouth twitching into a small smile. The necromancer rests a hand for a fleeting moment upon the elf’s shoulder. It’s simple gesture of camaraderie that lights the place where Emmrich’s hand rests and Tobias’ heart aflame.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Emmrich asks softly with a sympathetic smile.

They shake their head. “I was hoping maybe there was still some of that loose leaf tea you made me yesterday,” the elf admits with a shy smile.

“Of course.”

Emmrich moves easily through the kitchen, fetching the kettle, two cups and the tea from its place in a drawer. While it steeps, he glances over at Tobias, studying them with a kind of quiet concern.

“Bad dreams,” he guesses with a touch of empathy in his voice.

Tobias slides into a seat at the table and bites their lip, staring hard at their hands in their lap as Emmrich pours the tea for them both, the elf trying hard to figure out just what to say and how best to go about saying it.

“Just a lot on my mind,” the elf replies finally with a small frown.

Emmrich nods, not immediately pressing for more. The necromancer is nothing, if not curious, about everything, Tobias knows, but he is also unfailingly patient.

“I-“ the elf begins before immediately closing their mouth once more and shaking their head. Emmrich stirs a generous spoonful of honey into one of the cups before placing it gently in front of Tobias and taking the seat beside them.

“If you’re having second thoughts,” Emmrich offers quietly. Tobias shakes their head.

“No,” the elf replies immediately. “No, it’s not- I- I’m worried that you will,” they confess softly.

“What,” Emmrich barks out on a laugh, clearly finding the very idea preposterous, before the necromancer seems to realize how very real the concern is for Tobias and sobers slightly. “Talk me through it,” Emmrich encourages softly with a nod.

“Well, it’s just… we haven’t-“ Done anything more than kiss, Tobias thinks, trailing off, blushing. Creators, they’re not a child, talking about this shouldn’t be so damn hard, should it? Except that Tobias has never had a relationship like this, never had anyone they wanted to share themselves with like this before. They’re not ashamed of what and who they are anymore, but…

“I haven’t made you feel pressured, have I,” Emmrich asks concerned, “because, if I have-“

“No,” Tobias quickly shakes their head again. Emmrich has been nothing but a gentleman, attentive and sweet. “No, you haven’t. I just-“ the elf draws in a shaky breath. “I’d hate to disappoint you,” they confess quietly.

“Oh, Little Bird,” Emmrich whispers, gently reaching across the table to cover the elf’s hand with his own. “You couldn’t if you tried.” Tobias’ lips twitch offering an attempt at a smile, but the fact the elf’s brow remains somewhat furrowed doesn’t escape the necromancer. “Darling, I’m an old man,” Emmrich smiles patiently, shaking his head. “Whatever doubt has wormed its way into your mind, I promise you I’m not holding my breath for some physical benchmark in our relationship or walking around frustrated or resentful. Nothing we’ve done or shared has disappointed me. And,” he continues as Tobias starts to open their mouth to protest, offering the elf’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “no part your body could either. If you decide you’re ready for something more, I only pray I don’t disappoint you.”

The elf fights back the water that rushes to their eyes, the relief they feel that this isn’t a component of their relationship until they decide that it is, that Emmrich isn’t bitter sex isn’t one the many things the two of them share yet. The idea that they can have this, touches, kisses, cuddles, that it doesn’t have to- that it doesn’t mean they are somehow teasing or promising anything more. That they can enjoy them for their own sake. That Tobias and Emmrich’s relationship can be what they decide and at the pace they dictate. It’s everything.

“Could you-“ Tobias hesitates, and Emmrich gently strokes his thumb encouragingly across the back of their hand. “Would you mind sleeping in my room tonight,” the elf asks softly. “I-that night I got injured and you stayed with me… I’ve never slept so well as I did holding you,” they confess.

“Neither have I,” Emmrich smiles fondly, lifting their hand up to his lips for a kiss, whisking their cups to the sink with a wave, before following them back to the elf’s room, his hand intertwined with theirs.

[nerevar-quote-and-star]

Look, we thought pairing my LDB up with freaking Yrsarald Thrice-Pierced instead of Ulfric would be funny.

It wasn't. It was just sad.

ao3 | masterlist

As I told my dear sweet @elder-dragon-reposes, it's one thing for one of Ulfric's followers clear across Skyrim to get heart eyes for Ulfric's girlfriendsword arm, but it's another matter entirely if it's one of his generals. In his own city.

Yrsarald remembers the Dragonborn from when she came to call Ulfric to the Greybeards' council. He remembers that she was soft-spoken and adamant about the World-Eater. She's hopeful and compassionate, and that stands out to him, even if she is an elf.

Ulfric doesn't seem to mind her ancestry, so Yrsarald elects to ignore it untilunless it becomes a problem.

News comes that Alduin has been banished, and the Dragonborn is about Skyrim, helping people. It's . . . nice that the foreign half-elf seems to care so much for the well-being of Skyrim and her people. Yrsarald keeps tabs on her through the informants and spy networks. It's a matter of security if the Dragonborn turns traitor to Skyrim and helps the blasted Thalmor. Galmar isn't keeping up with it, so for Ulfric and the Stormcloaks' sake, Yrsarald is.

But all he hears are good things. She wins admiration everywhere she goes, but she doesn't belong anywhere. Balgruuf the Greater is trying to tie the Dragonborn to Whiterun, but she's as flighty as Kyne's winds. Somewhere in there, Yrsarald learns her name is Leara Ormand and she's from HIgh Rock. She grew up on magic and chivalry. She probably sees life as a fairy tale. He may disdain her for it.

But then she comes to Windhelm. They've had troubles of their own, being stretched between the care of the city and fighting a war. And she solves problems. He hears she's investigating the serial killer in town . . .

. . .then finds the Butcher, and she's hurt? Ulfric is concerned, but Yrsarald finds himself livid. He cannot see his Jarl's worry for his own shame that their hero came to help them, and all she got in return was a bleeding wound and permafrost on her skin.

Imagine being so in love with an otherwise mythic figure, a celebrity, that you can't see that your friend, your brother, is also in love with her. How can you see it when you aren't ready to admit your own feelings?

Leara is renting a room at Candlehearth when Yrsarald decides he needs to pay his respects to her. She is surprised when he meets her near dinner. He has never seen a woman so precisely featured before. She's not in armor (he's only seen her in silver plate); her hair is down (curling in blood rose vines) and she's bundled in a cornflower blue dress (it's loose to accommodate her bandages). He wants to sit down and talk to her, but he doesn't. He thanks her, though, and she smiles. He stops by the counter later to make sure Elda sends her a dessert .

"But don't bother her with who it's from." "Well if that's how you choose to show your appreciation."

Yrsarald buys Leara sweets after that. She doesn't know it's him. She knows it's someone who appreciates her service and feels bad about her getting hurt, but Elda won't crack. Drat the woman.

Leara wonders if Ulfric is gifting her the sweets. She wants to hope it's Ulfric. She wants their past to be past and for her to appreciate everything she continues to do not for him, but to his benefit; she wasn't drawn in by his smile or anything. Who else would it be if not him? Ralof? He's not in town. General Stone-Fist didn't seem too bothered about her.

Leara's still healing. She's not bedridden or anything, but she's not fit to go beyond the city gates where there are bandits and dragons and necromancers (oh my!), so she decides that visiting the court wizard might be a fruitful investment of her time. She shuffles off to the Palace of the Kings. She runs into Jorleif right off and, on telling him she'd like to visit the court wizard, he's ready to take her to Wuunferth because she's been to see him before, and after all, she is the Dragonborn.

And this is that delightful moment when fate can swing either way because if Ulfric shows up and offers to walk Leara, that's all she wrote. Yrsarald's lost his chance because now that soft smile from Candlehearth is directed at the Jarl, not him, and Yrsarald will never get it back.

But maybe, just maybe, if Yrsarald gets to Leara before Ulfric does, if he captures her attention in conversation, maybe she'll look at him.

For a general commanding troops, it's terribly hard to be brave before a woman.

He would ask her how she's healing from the attack, and Leara would sigh, tired with herself but patient in her speech, because she's healing but she feels like she's letting the people down. And the tips of her ears might turn pink (Yrsarald didn't know elf ears did that) because Leara didn't mean to be that candid and trouble him – but Yrsarald is tripping over himself to tell her that she's done more for Skyrim than anyone (why is his neck red?) and it's reasonable for her to convalesce after an injury.

"Rest and eat apple tarts." ". . . how did you know I was eating apple tarts?"

Yrsarald coughs (he did not mean to tell her that). Leara is staring at him. They're at Wuunferth's quarters. She blinks at him before thanking him for guiding her through the palace. Then she's gone, and Yrsarald is kicking himself for being an idiot.

He's smitten.

Soon (too soon) Leara has healed from her injury and she's at the palace again, but this time she's offering to help Ulfric negotiate a permanent peace between both sides. Ulfric's seen Leara at the table, he knows what she can do. Galmar is more skeptical, but when Ulfric looks to Yrsarald for his opinion (and Leara's too-blue winter deep eyes follow) he says to let her have at it.

Leara needs to be brought up on the Stormcloaks holdings and Ulfric says he'll help her, but then Galmar needs him for something else and Yrsarald (does NOTdoes) jumps at the chance to help the Dragonborn. She's attentive and quiet, and asks the right questions about supplies and movements. And Yrsarald realizes as he's talking to her that Leara has been in a war before.

"Were you in the Great War?"

The stiffening of her shoulders is almost imperceptible. He'd have missed it if he weren't watching her so intently.

"Yes."

Her reply is measured. She does not lie.

"Legion?"

Because everyone was in the Legion then. Back when it fought for Skyrim. He wouldn't fault her if she was . . . why is her face sour? Her mouth is pinched.

"It doesn't matter–" "It does."

Why does it matter? He wonders, why is he pressing?

Her eyes are wide. So wide and too-blue.

Leara looks ill.

And then he knows.

He knew from the beginning she couldn't be trusted. She was an elf. All elves scurried back to the Thalmor in the end. She was here for that blasted Thalmor "ambassador" – she would betray Ulfric and the sons of Skyrim to their deaths!

There's a breathless scream.

Yrsarald doesn't realize until then that he has her on the ground. She's so small and too precisely featured. Her eyes are too blue. She's a traitor, a liar, a fraud–

The Dragonborn does not care for Skyrim.

"Yrsarald, please–"

Yrsarald growls.

Why is she crying? Doesn't she realize what she's doing to Skyrim? – Done to him? All this time and Yrsarald realizes he let Leara lure him into a fairy tale, only for her to shatter it with frigid reality when he thinks, when he thinks . . .

He might love her.

But elves can't love.

"You will rue the day you stepped foot in Skyrim, elf!"

She's sobbing. If she were really a true Dragonborn, she'd try and Shout him off, but Yrsarald wonders if she lied about that, too. High Elf illusions.

"Yrsa–" "What's going–?!"

Then Yrsarald is yanked back forcibly. Galmar is there. And Ralof. And Ulfric.

Ulfric is on the floor with her. Kneeling beside her as she gasps and tears turn her white gold face into wet porcelain. Kneeling beside her as if the elf wasn't going to sell Ulfric and everything they'd worked for to the Thalmor!

Yrsarald strains against Galmar and Ralof. He grits his teeth.

"She's Thalmor!"

Galmar stills. Ralof pales. Ulfric's head is bowed. She isn't making any noise but she struggles to breathe and it's tearing Yrsarald apart and enraging him all at once.

"I know."

And with those words, Yrsarald questions everything he ever knew about Ulfric Stormcloak. Ulfric knew she was a Thalmor spy? Was he coming to stop her – but . . .

Then Ulfric is lifting Leara from the ground, helping her to her feet, and it's too gentle for a King about to arrest an enemy.

Her hands are grasping Ulfric's arm, her eyes wide. Ulfric's face is drawn.

"We will discuss this later."

And he walks out with her. And the elf is free. And Yrsarald doesn't understand.

And then Galmar speaks:

"What in Oblivion did you do?!"

Yrsarald . . . doesn't know anymore.

What he learns later is more than he could stomach. Leara was a member of the Thalmor and she was a member of the Blades before that, and during the war, she smuggled information from the Dominion to the Blades intelligence networks and then defected while smuggling Ulfric Stormcloak from captivity.

He's nauseous when Ralof tells him this. Respectful Ralof – save this time there's steel in his eyes and disdain in his voice.

Yrsarald realizes he deserves that.

Later, when she finds him at Candlehearth, drinking his weight in ale, he realizes he does not deserve the understanding and forgiveness and the self-loathing in her face.

"I know why you did what you did. I can't fault you for it, not when I could've sold your Jarl and cause out to the Dominion. But I–"

Leara's eyes trail off.

"I'm sorry."

He chokes out the words. Her eyes slip back. She was far away.

"I think it's for the best if we're not alone together anymore."

Then she's gone.

Yrsarald buys another round.

The next day, Galmar says Ulfric wants him in the Pale. Far away from the Dragonborn goes unspoken between them.

Yrsarald goes. Ulfric's face is hard when he bids Yrsarald goodbye. The Jarl is not as easily forgiving as the Dragonborn.

Yrsarald is in the Pale when, a month later, news comes that the Dragonborn is handling an armistice in Whiterun. Skyrim divided. What was she thinking? She's thinking for Skyrim, Yrsarald realizes. That's all she's thought about this entire time.

It's a year before he returns to the Eastern capital of Windhelm, and only then, it's because the High King is getting married.

Yrsarald sees her. He doesn't stay long after that.

After all, Ulfric would protect her. Had protected her. Even from Yrsarald.

He could live with that.

[osatokun]

How did your adventures with TTRP start (as in like, how did you get into it)? Have you ever RPed in any server or forums or sites? Or in games?

Hmm I think it started when I was 11 or 12. I started to read Cat warriors ( at these time there were only few books I think) and discovered there are a forum RP ( how do they called?) based on the books. I played there a bit ( I was VERY shy for the most of my life, it was hard). And most importantly I started to draw, because I the admins here were awesome artists and I wanted to be like them. I think this is when everything started! When I was in university my fellow student suggested to play DnD. It was.. bad. We played about 3 sessions online, at it was veeeeeeery boring. I played necromancer tiefling but I never actually did any necromancy lol. BUT it got me interested in ttrpgs and I started to search masters. My friends also wanted to try ttrpgs so it got me motivated. By absolutely miracle I found a DM, the one who became my friend later on. He didn't know me or my friends and had nearly blank social media page and got very surprised by my message that sound something like " hi hello you don't know me but I heard you're a cool DM. May I ask you to play a one shot game for me and my friends?". We played oneshoot and then we continued for 2 years. It was a big cool adventure and I have a lot of sweet memories about it. Then we played a bunch of different games like the Call of Cthulhu, Alien, Mothership, Delta Green, Mothership, Humble Wood, Numenera, Spelljammer, a dinosaur game I can't remember the name and in the end, he suggested to play Vampire the Masquerade. We had ups and downs, but in the end it was what people imagine when they talk about TTRPG experience - anyone playing irl, tea and donuts, you know everyone and talk after games a lot. It was cool while it lasted! I figured that I never felt love for games as much as I felt while playing VtM. So after that I looked for another masters, and mostly played online. Now I have paid master that have a very good balance of scary and sweet in his games ( also he made Glinda insanely hot help). But yeah I RP a lot in games. I don't like plain dice rolls without getting into character. Now I try to make a lot of research for my chars, and sometimes write monologs for Charlie to feel him better ( and also look for poetry to show Glinda how pretty she is..)

[child0feden]

˖◛⁺⑅do you have any favorite songs? (metal or non-metal, both are cool!!)

also, i love your account. your writing, even when you're just answering asks, is so good!! 🫠

is writing something you study, or is it more like a hobby for you? i always get inspired whenever i read your stuff tbh.

seriously tho, your whole vibe is so sweet (｡･･｡) just wanted to say i really appreciate what you do here! 💖

oh goshhh… i have so so so many favourite songs! you have unleashed a demon through this question lolol! hopefully you don’t mind that i am about to put quite a damn few hehe

despair by trembling void ( just a genuinely gorgeous black metal song, the drums and guitar really do something for me, not to mention the vocals! but to be honest, the whole album is very very very good and i would recommend you check it out )

sorcières by darvulia ( another black metal song where the instruments are just… so good! along with the vocals, of course! very amazing song, love their band logo too )

where restless souls wander by sarastus ( the first time i heard this song, i was absolutely gobsmacked at how much my brain loved it! i think i’m very easy to please but everything about this one just hits right for me, the drums especially )

odin killer of nazis by nuclear hammer ( the horn blowing and drum banging in this one just wowww, my brain loves it for some reason! vocals are of course very good too )

pines and mist by old tower ( arghhh, i just love some good atmospheric music! another one where you should definitely check out the whole album )

xtal by aphex twin ( who the hell does not love some aphex twin? just got this album on cd a couple days ago, love it )

siccmade by brotha lynch hung ( you just cannot go wrong with some lynch! the friday the 13th “ ch ch ch ah ah ah ” in the background of this song is just… chefs kiss! i find myself saying “ oh what a bloody mess ” every time i get my period because of this song )

unshaken by d’angelo from the red dead redemption II soundtrack ( just such a beautiful song, damn near makes me cry every time i hear it! his live performances of it are always just amazing too! his voice is just jaw dropping to me )

snake eater by cynthia harrell from the metal gear solid V soundtrack ( another just absolutely beautiful song with an even more gorgeous voice… her live performance of this in tokyo was absolutely fucking incredible! just one of those “ must listen to at least once in your life ” songs )

promise by akira yamaoka from the silent hill 2 soundtrack ( this song, to me, belongs to mary… whenever i think of this song, i just think of mary and the end of the game! the remake version of this song is just so so so good too, it played during the credits and did i cry? yep, like a fucking baby! the guitar work touches my soul so deeply )

okay, those are all of the reasons i’m going to give but here are some of my other favourites! just to keep this post at least a little short lolol! i could keep this list going for so long…

isolation by jute gyte - exhibition by corentin brasart from the decarnation soundtrack - involuntary disturbance by avith ortega - all or none by pearl jam

i am the black wizards by emperor - straighten up and fly right by the andrews sisters - frankensteina strataemontanus by carach angren

a world of madness by akira yamaoka from the silent hill 2 soundtrack - blood on my swordblade by godkiller

contempt by entombed - you’re not here by akira yamaoka from the silent hill 3 soundtrack - flesh ripper by hellripper - thunder of darkness by immortal

she’s my witch by kip tyler - to hell and back by venom - no care by daughter - blood spattered banner by carcass

we’ll meet again by vera lynn - my dark subconscious by morbid - day of suffering by morbid angel

you spin me round by dead or alive - every day is exactly the same by nine inch nails - necromancer by mortuary drape - goatcraft torment by urgehal

thank you so much! i’m super glad you love my blog… still find it hard to believe, even months down the line of creating it! awh, thank you again! sometimes i worry about my writing not being the greatest but then you guys come in and just shower me in so much love, more than i could ever feel worthy of…

writing is just a hobby for me, at least at the minute! i’m not studying anything right now, just kind of getting my life back on track after years of mental health issues and so on… learning how to live normally again, slowly! maybe later down the line i’ll go to college or something but we shall see… i would like to go into writing professionally if it was an option, my mother thinks i would make a good game or tech reviewer lolol! ever the supportive mother, though it’s kind of my whole family at this point… i think my dream career paths would be a game reviewer, music journalist or photographer! having one of those jobs would certainly make me happy

i’m so glad to hear that you feel inspired when reading my writing, you don’t know how happy that makes me! if you want to get into writing yourself, i could not encourage you more to try it out… i only started writing fanfiction early this year! i had never ever wrote fanfiction before then but i just kind of threw myself into it… and now here we are! really just let yourself try it out, let yourself sink into it and see how it goes :)

thank you once again for this ask and message, honey! you’re flattering me all too much here! you guys have always been nothing but beyond sweet to me, i would hate to treat all of you any different… you deserve nothing less than to be treated with love and respect! you appreciate what i do and i love doing what i do, more than i could ever ask for <3