#genealogy tips

[m0rb1dspade]

Tip doodle

[thegenealogygenie]

Making The Most Of UK Birth Certificates

Birth certificates can be one of the most valuable resources available to a genealogist, they hold so much information and can really help to bust those brick walls. Here I will share my top tips for making the most of your ancestors birth certificates. When and Where Born The date of your ancestors birth is one of the main details about their lives that you will want to discover. It can tell…

[ceoofyearning]

half algorithm, half deity - (Mafia AU) Eris Vanserra

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Fem!Reader (Rhysand’s Sibling)

Summary: You try to date other people, but in truth you’ve only ever wanted Eris Vanserra.

Tags/Warnings:

Explicit (18+, MINORS DNI), SMUT with plot, Angst, Modern Mafia AU, Established FWB, Mentions of past Tamlin x Reader (brief), Mentions canon typical violence, Mentions of minor character death (Rhysand’s mom and other sister)

Alcohol, Oral (M & F receiving), Rough but make it tender & loving too, Hair pulling, P in V, Overstim if you squint (please lmkif i missed anything)

Word Count: 6.5k

Links: Masterlist | My Art

Despite your father’s best efforts, you didn’t inherit your family’s propensity for violence. 

You drink your wine and remind yourself of that fact for the umpteenth time tonight. But if this male gives you another backhanded compliment or, Mother forbid, another unsolicited criticism, you might reconsider that fact. Rhys had made sure you knew how to gut a man in just three moves and you remember each precise stroke as effortlessly as a breath.

To dissuade yourself from such thoughts, you take another generous gulp of wine - your only saving grace as you listen to him drone on and on about his most recent business acquisition. For the past forty-five minutes, the man has managed to recount his entire genealogy, his academic history and recited what felt like an itemized list of all his professional accomplishments. This is supposed to be a date, you’re tempted to remind him, not a chance to whip out his dick and measure it. 

He has yet to ask you anything about yourself, of course, entirely preoccupied with stroking his damn ego. You’ve stopped trying after the fifth cycle of appropriately timed ‘ooh’s and ‘ahh’s, seeing he doesn’t seem to need you to continue his tirade. Your pointed glares and longing glances at your wristwatch remain unnoticed too. The number of drinks you’ve had seems to be an entirely different story, however. 

"You know, you should really slow down," he remarks, his sardonic smirk exposing a set of eerily straight white teeth.

“And why is that, exactly?” You ask before taking another long sip of wine with deliberate slowness. His jaw clenches ever so slightly, his smile little more than a collection of clenched teeth. 

“You wouldn’t want to be too drunk for later.” He makes a show of raking his beady eyes over your form. The predatory glint in his eye makes your skin crawl and your hackles raise in equal measure. 

“Bold of you to assume there would be a later,” you drawl, your eyes narrowing into slits, nostrils flaring in silent outrage. 

“Oh, there will,” he declares with an impressive amount of unearned confidence. “How else are you going to pay me back for this meal, sweetheart?” He says it as though it’s a given, like your body is something he’s owed for this paltry display. Fuck, if you don’t leave now, you’re sure you’ll end this night behind bars, probably charged with manslaughter. Rhys would get you out of it, of course, but he’d be incredibly smug about it and you couldn’t have that. 

The man makes another show of tracing his slimy gaze over your body, making a pleased sound in the back of his throat. “I must say, I wasn’t a big fan of the dress - too revealing to be classy, in my opinion - but I suppose it wouldn’t matter when it’s on the floor of my penthouse.”

You admit that you don’t try very hard to hold back a gag. Without even dignifying him with a response, you hail the waiter and gesture for the bill in the hopes that the expression on your face is enough to convey the urgency you feel. To her credit, it only takes her a minute to rush to the table in all black and white salvation, the bill in hand. 

With haste, you pull out the cash from your wallet and slam it down the table. It should be enough to cover everything, even the tip. You give the man one last scathing glare before you rise from the table. A fish out of water - that’s what he looks like, wide-eyed with his mouth opening and closing, probably on the cusp of claiming to everyone in the room that you’re crazy, that you’re overreacting.

Before he can do any of that you pivot sharply towards the exit, ignoring the man’s indignant sputtering. Your feet protest beneath you, your new stilettos digging painfully into your skin with every step. Only when you’re five blocks away from the restaurant do you let yourself slow to a stop. You press the heels of your palms into your eyes, undoubtedly ruining the makeup you spent such a long time putting on earlier that night. 

Suddenly, the dress you felt so confident in now feels suffocating. The fabric clings to your skin fat too tightly, constricting your every movement. The silken garment you had thought to fit you like a glove now surrounded you like a cage. You tug at the neckline, trying to find some relief, but the discomfort only intensifies.

Frustration bubbles in your gut as you collapse onto the nearest bench to catch your breath. You feel so stupid. Although you don’t want to admit it, you’ve been looking forward to a nice night out after an entire week of slogging through work. Instead, you ended up sacrificing what little free time you have to satisfy some asshole’s vanity. 

The city continues in indifferent chaos around you. The fluorescent streetlights overhead and the headlights of passing cars slice through the night. People bustle past, absorbed in their own lives, oblivious to your existence. At this moment, you’ve never felt more alone. 

Seeing Feyre and Rhys fall in love has been an eye-opening experience. You’ve watched them gradually find happiness in each other, watched them build a life together. There’s also Nes and Cass, Viv and Kal - all so utterly content, so in painfully love. It is a relief to know that love is possible despite the kind of lives you live. After what happened - your gun slotted in between those bright forest eyes, finger frozen at the trigger; the stumbling string of sorries, of depthless regrets; white marble tiles stained crimson by blood - happiness hadn’t seemed like a possibility. All you’ve had since then are inconsequential flings and ill-conceived dalliances, nothing that could lead to anything more.

It’s difficult to admit that you want something more.

But since you’ve started seeing other people, it’s only been a series of disappointments one after the other. What made basic empathy and human decency such a scarce resource these days? In all honesty, you’re starting to lose hope, starting to think that maybe that love just isn’t in the cards for you. 

You cared for Tamlin in your own foolish, fumbling way. He was solid ground, he was stubborn certainty. He clung to control so tightly that his nails left angry red indents on his palm. In many ways, you were his antithesis, his unmaking. He tried to be good but the both of you hadn’t been good for each other. Perhaps the two of you had been too lonely, too stubborn, too fucking young to realize not all forms of love were healthy.

Eris Vanserra is an entirely different matter. He came to you as a flicker of flame in the darkest night. He was a breath of fresh air - a lungful of ember and possibility - setting you alight from the inside out. More importantly, Eris understands you the same way one side of a coin knows the other. That, however, didn’t mean you could be together. 

Perhaps in some ways, knowing made the longing worse.

Your hand clenches around air, around the vestige of a memory you can’t seem to let go of. Your fingers itch to dial the same set of numbers you’ve deleted from your phone time and time again. You remember it anyway, though. Your mind has faithfully cataloged every memory of him - silky red hair brushing against your cheek, amber eyes crinkling in mischievous delight, arms wrapping around your body, making you feel safe for the first time in your life. 

Your body moves before your better judgment can catch up. Before you know it, the familiar set of numbers is staring accusingly at you from your phone screen. Droning rings of an outgoing call pierce the silence. On the third one, Eris picks up. 

“Firefly.” That word. You can hear the amusement in his tone. You refuse to acknowledge the hint of relief you sense there too, the note of near manic joy. It’s been months since you’ve last seen each other, since you told him that you needed something more - more than stolen moments, more than simply falling in and out of each other's beds only to be nothing but mere strangers come morning. 

You say nothing, trapping unsaid words behind teeth clenched so tightly it’s a wonder you don’t break your jaw. 

“Cat got your tongue?” Eris laughs, smooth, sensual, and utterly addicting. The sound sends a shiver down your spine. You fight the sudden urge to feel his lips shape the words with your own, to feel the vibrations of his laughter with the tips of your fingers. 

“Tell me where you are,” he tries again. You can hear him lean back on his office chair, undoubtedly working late yet again. To anyone else, he would’ve sounded perfectly calm. 

“I don’t know,” you sniff, fighting back the traitorous tears. “I’m near the Moonstone Palace.” It’s the overpriced restaurant you had been in earlier, the reason you’re going to have to struggle with rent this month. You could always ask Rhys, but you’ve long since divorced yourself from your family’s wealth.

Eris exhales, and you hear a suspicious amount of rummaging in the background. “Could you send your location to me?” He suggests, and you can make out the faint sound of a door opening and closing. 

“Okay.” It comes out as a resigned sigh. 

Before he hangs up, he makes sure, “Are you safe?”

“I am.” 

“Give me fifteen minutes.” 

Eris arrives in ten.

You’re slumped on the bench, clutching your purse to your chest as the frigid night air rushes past you. In your haste, you completely forgot to retrieve your coat before rushing out of the restaurant. But then, the low growl of an engine captures your attention. You turn to find a sleek black Benz gliding into view before coming to a halt right in front of you. 

The window rolls down to reveal Eris’s smug face, familiar and foreign all at once. His bright fiery locks, longer now, have been tamed into a braid behind his back. Loose strands frame his sharp features, highlighting the severity of his beauty. He looks paler than usual, freckles now barely visible across his cheeks. 

Eris grins, voice laced with far too much delight. “Didn’t I tell you, Love? You wouldn’t be able to stay away.” 

Your nostrils flare involuntarily, equal parts irritation and wry amusement warring in you. When he notices the redness of your eyes, however, his smile banks. The only reason you can tell he’s worried is because you’ve spent an inordinate amount of time learning his tells, mapping the meaning behind the slivers of genuine emotion that sometimes slip through his carefully constructed mask. You’ve got it down to a science, interpreting him the same way astronomers find reason in the depths of the cosmos.

Without another sly remark, he steps out of the car and slips out of his coat as he strides toward you. When he moves to wrap the garment around your body, you try to protest. “That won’t be necessary.”

“You’re freezing,” he insists before dropping the surprisingly heavy coat over your shoulders. The effect is immediate. Eris is a walking furnace most days and traces of his heat still linger on the cloth, thawing the ice that has gathered beneath your skin.

You groan in relief despite yourself, finally acquiescing and pulling his coat tighter around you. Eris smirks, and you shoot him a perfunctory glare in response. Thankfully, though, he doesn’t comment on the way you bury your face in the upturned lapels, inhaling a lungful of his cinnamon and woodsmoke scent.

“Fun night?” He asks once you’ve plopped down the passenger seat. 

“Obviously,” you reply, words thick with sarcasm. “I had the time of my life, really. Nothing like a date with another entitled, self-involved trust fund asswipe to liven up my Saturday night.” Eris looks entirely too pleased with this information. 

He shrugs. “Your dates can’t compare?” He shoots you a knowing look. You resent the implication, but can’t entirely deny it either. 

The truth of the matter is that you’ve never truly gotten over Eris. As brief as your explosive affairs may have been, the male has found a way to burrow beneath skin, to etch himself onto the surface of your mind. There is no washing him off you. In these last few months, all you’ve done is find fragments of him in faceless men. 

“Can’t compare to your arrogance, maybe,” you retort a beat too late.

 

“Oh Firefly, you know you love it,” the smug bastard shoots back smoothly. 

“You think you know me so well,” you grumble, crossing your arms defensively.

“Well enough.” Eris’s smile widens, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Well enough to know those men you’ve found aren’t worth your time.”

You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the fact that he is at least vaguely aware of your failed attempts at dating. Embarrassment coils in your gut, betrayed only by the steadily rising flush of your cheeks. “Maybe one day I’ll find someone who doesn’t make me want to scream.”

“Maybe,” he agrees, a hint of mischief lingering in his eyes. “But where’s the fun in that?” He leans toward you, face hovering over yours. The intensity of his gaze feels dangerous, almost like a threat, a promise that he could easily tear down all your walls if he pleased. Memories flash - of him devouring your mouth with his own, of bare bodies intertwined on soiled sheets, of him greedily drinking in each moan from your mouth as you clench tightly around his length - playing on torturous repeat in your mind. 

“You’re insufferable, you know that?” Your breaths come short, voice trembling. Eris’s smile widens, canines glinting beneath the warm light - a well-honed predator to and through. 

Eris chuckles. “And yet, here you are.”

You sincerely can’t tell whether you want to clock him in the jaw or pull him down for a kiss. But then, in a rare show of mercy, Eris withdraws. He simply pulls your seatbelt down and fastens it beside you before turning back to the wheel. You release a breath you don’t realize you are holding. 

The engine roars beneath you and Eris begins to maneuver the car back onto the highway. You slump further down in your seat, only to have several objects dig into your ribs. You jolt up, patting down his coat for the offending items. In your search, you produce a stiletto hidden in the inner lining and a Glock 19 in one pocket. 

“Really?” You quirk your brow at him as you drop another knife on the car floor.

Amber eyes dart towards you for the briefest second, a ghost of a smirk on his lips, before turning his gaze back to the road. You don’t doubt Eris has more hidden on his person, maybe even in this car. 

“Can’t be too careful,” he replies with a shrug, his hand flexing on the wheel. You follow the movement with rapt attention, transfixed by the rhythmic contractions of the muscles beneath, by the faint blue of the veins that run in webs up his forearm. 

Eris, the bastard, catches your preoccupation with his body. Of course, he does. 

His smirk widens into a full grin, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Enjoying the view?"

You snap your gaze back to his face, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. "Keep your eyes on the road," you remind him, stalling, trying to regain your composure. “Perhaps you should put up a show for me, and I’ll decide then.” 

Eris chuckles at the challenge, a deep, resonant sound that never fails to send shivers down your spine. 

The rest of the drive to your apartment is spent in comfortable silence, Eris content to leave you in your corner, brooding and bundled up in his coat. You lean your head on the window, letting your thoughts drift by at the same pace the scenery slips away from view. You don’t realize you’ve dozed off until you feel Eris tucking strands of your hair behind your ear.

“We’re here.” 

Your eyes flutter open, reality reluctantly coalescing into focus in front of you. There's an amused expression on the redhead's face as he watches you wake. A part of you is tempted to curl back into a ball, content to pretend at peace just a little longer. Eris has no such qualms, however. He undoes your seatbelt and tugs you out of the vehicle. His arms remain loosely wrapped around your waist, though, even as he closes the door to the passenger seat.

“I should go.” He is so close his hot breath brushes against your cheek, the scent of mint permeating the air between you. 

“You should.” 

But none of you move to part. Your hands remain tightly fisted on his otherwise pristine shirt, while his arms create a cage around you, his body pressing you against the cool metal of the car. 

“Why did you call?” Eris asks instead. His cheek rests on your temple, his nose buried in your hair like he can’t quite help but gravitate towards you. Your grip on him tightens the same way the sun pulls celestial bodies into its orbit, completely, inevitably.  

“You know why.” 

“Tell me anyway.” He pulls back just enough to look straight into your eyes, molten amber burning into you. 

“I want you.” You confess. I’ve only ever wanted you, your mind further supplies. His gaze is searching, as if scouring for all the ways he can turn over your words in his head if the new angles would reveal some hidden meaning.

“I want to forget.” You continue, tugging him down by the collar. He follows willingly and rests his forehead on yours. Lips hover over your own, breaths mingling in the scant space between you. His mask turns translucent. Joy, pain, and regret flash in quick succession across his face before you can even parse their meaning.

“As do I, Love.” 

The moment you step into your apartment, all traces of tenderness dissipate. 

Eris has you trapped between the wall and the firm line of his lithe body. He easily towers over you. With one thigh wrapped around his slim waist, only his firm grip on your hips and his thigh slotted between your parted legs keep you upright. Your remaining leg stands precariously on the tips of your toes, teetering dangerously in whichever current Eris pulls you in.

His mouth is latched onto your neck, leaving blooms of red in his wake. You should tell him to stop, tell him not to leave any visible marks. But all words and reason are lost to you when his teeth scrape against the sensitive skin in time with a particularly well-timed roll of his hips. 

“Eris!” You keen, clawing at his back in a vain attempt to find purchase. But there is no safe harbor to be found, not here. Eris is a force of nature. He is the living embodiment of wildfire, burning brightly, holding you so firmly, that it’s as though he intends to fuse your bodies together.

“What is it, Firefly?” He whispers the words against your ear, right before he catches your lobe in between his teeth. You can feel his lips curl against your skin. “What does my pretty girl want?”

“You.” It comes out as a demand, a desperate plea. 

“Use your words, love.” His movements settle into a languid pace, excruciatingly slow, pulling a whine from your throat. His single hand encompasses your entire jaw. Pads of his fingers press against the joint, his grip firm but gentle. Eris turns your face so you’re looking straight into his burning eyes. “Let’s try again, shall we? Tell me, how do you want me?” 

“I need your cock in my mouth,” you whisper your want against his lips, confessions you’d never be able to make in the light of day. Amber eyes roll back at the image your words evoke. Eris forces his eyelids shut as you continue to speak. “Then, I want to feel you inside me, fuck me into the mattress, until your name is the only word in my mind, until I can feel you for days after.” 

“Firefly.” With his face in the crook of your neck, he groans like you’re torturing him. You allow him a few short moments to gather himself - heavy heated breaths blown onto your nape - before tugging him by the hair insistently. His braid comes loose and a river of red falls in delicate curls over his freckled shoulders. Eris is an entirely different person when his head snaps up to meet your gaze.

“On your knees.” 

Electricity crackles through the air between you at the sheer command in his voice. Obediently, you sink to his feet, gazing up at him with wide hungry eyes. To his credit, Eris’s expression remains impassive, his ardor betrayed only by the tension in his jaw and the glint in his eyes. With his thumb, he presses down on your bottom lip. 

“Suck.” 

Your mouth parts to welcome him, until you feel the cool press of his signet against your lips, a welcome contrast. You swirl your tongue around the digit, bobbing your head for a few beats. Eris clenches his jaw, the pad of his thumb lightly digging onto your tongue as he pulls it out. You release it with a pop of your lips.

“Good.” 

Eris tilts his head, a silent permission to continue. While you gradually slip off his belt and undo the zip of his trousers, Eris gathers your hair in his fist. With a single push, his impressive length is revealed to you, long and heavy. Anticipation sparks in your chest, eager to feel his weight on your tongue.

“Go on then.” 

So you do. You flatten your tongue against the base of his cock, licking a stripe to the tip. There, you take the head into the wet heat of your mouth and suck. Eris makes an involuntary thrust, despite the tight leash he normally keeps around himself.

“Fuckin’ Hel,” he groans, grip now deliciously digging into your scalp. You moan your appreciation against him, and the male shudders in response. For a few moments, you simply alternate between lazily bobbing your head and swirling your tongue against him as best you can. Your hand twists in tandem to accommodate the remaining length of him. 

“You’re a damned tease,” he accuses. “A demon.”

With wide eyes, you blink innocently up at him from beneath your lashes. Eris scoffs, rolling his eyes, but allows the torturous cycle to continue. When you sense his movements grow more erratic, his muscles tensing beneath your palms, you slow your movements just in time to deny him his release. At the third time of doing this, Eris looks close to breaking.

“Enough.” He growls, the command reverberating through the silent room, through every fiber of your being. 

You still immediately, the intensity in his voice sending a thrill through you. He adjusts his grip on your hair, winding the strands around his knuckles and tugging lightly as if to test his grip. You groan at the bite of pain, your arousal dripping from you.

“I’m gonna fuck your pretty face now, Firefly.” He whispers with such disorienting tenderness. “Tap my thigh twice if it becomes too much, understand?” 

“Yes.” Your too-eager reply draws a lopsided smile from Eris’s otherwise stoic demeanor. “Please,” you add as an afterthought as you brace your hands against his thighs.

Eris tilts his head once more, and you take that as your signal to proceed. Your lips wrap around him, cheeks hollowing out, tongue curved around his length. His thrusts begin tentatively, but it doesn’t take long for him to find his rhythm. The head of his cock hits the back of your throat with each thrust, his firm grip on your hair directing each movement. You will yourself to relax, angling yourself to take him better, deeper. For a while, all your thoughts evaporate, your entire focus simply on breathing through your nose and watching the look of ecstasy unfold across his face. 

“You feel amazing around me.” Eris pants as he pushes impossibly deeper. You struggle to take him, throat spasming around him. “My good girl,” he coos, his thrusts stuttering. You groan against him when one stroke allows him to bottom out completely. Nose nuzzling the thin line of red on his lower stomach, tears bloom in your eyes. You look up, only to find him already gazing at you. His amber eyes were wide with want, transfixed at the sight of you taking him completely. 

“I’m about to come, Love. You’ll be a good girl and take it, won’t you?” A drawn out mhm is all the permission he needs. “Every. Last. Drop.” Each word is punctuated by a thrust. 

Then, on his final advance, Eris holds you there by the head until the very last moment, until the fire in your veins has spread into each lobe of your lungs. When you swallow around him, he chokes, rolling his hips into your mouth. Your fingers curl into claws against his thighs but you don’t tap out. He moves once, twice, then he’s gone. Eris allows you a bit of reprieve by retreating into your mouth as his length pulses the rest of his release onto your tongue. 

“Fuck.” He rasps. Then, with a single tug, he pulls you off of him and onto your two wobbly legs. Eris only gives you a few seconds to catch your breath before his mouth crashes against yours for a kiss. He groans as he tastes himself on your tongue. 

“So perfect for me, made to take me.” His hands roam your body as though eager to discover every square inch of exposed skin. This is Eris in his rawest form, you realize, all control turned into liquid flame in his hands. He practically tears your dress from your body, pushing down the silk until it pools on the floor. 

“Yesss,” you hiss, clawing at his shirt and shoving it off his broad shoulders. “Only you.” Heavy thunks follow soon after - the gun holstered at his side, the knife strapped to his thigh.

“I fucking love you.” He growls in between breaths. Without giving you a chance to reply, he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, nipping at the raw flesh. 

You don’t even realize he’s corralled you into your room before he pushes you onto the bed. He pulls you to the edge by the ankle. Eris stands tall before you, rendered in sharp angles and steady lines, softened only by the warmth in his amber eyes. Then, slowly, he kneels between your parted thighs like a supplicant before their God and your body is the only conduit of worship he knows. 

“You okay?” He asks this while his head is pillowed on your thigh, as though he hadn’t just blown your mind. Eris, you’ve discovered, is a collection of contrasts - rough one second, and painfully tender the next. No amount of studying him could let you predict the direction of his passion. You don’t mind, though, you’d happily be carried away in his current.

“Perfectly.” 

“You remember your word?” He removes your stilettos, brushing over the raw skin where the straps have dug in.

“I do.” 

“Say it for me.” He lines your heels neatly at the foot of your bed. 

“Ember.”

“Good.” Eris begins his meandering path up your legs. A kiss on your ankle, lips ghosting over your leg. Once his lips reach your thighs, he starts to nibble and suck on your skin. The simple declaration of possession shouldn’t please you as much as it does, but it only deepens the pool of desire and anticipation in your gut. 

“Eris,” you whine, breathless, as he pauses at the seam of your thigh. His smirk only grows at your increasingly desperate pleas and the erratic movements of your hips.

“Use your words, Firefly.” Eris reminds you beatifically. “Tell me what you want.”

“Your mouth,” you begin, already struggling to form a coherent string of words. “Please?” 

“My mouth?” He asks, pretending to consider it. “But I thought you said you wanted my cock?”

His taunting jolts you out of your reverie, always rearing to meet his fire with your own. You come up to your elbows to level him a raised brow. “Well, you’re already on your knees, aren’t you?” Despite knowing you’ll pay for your words later, you try to inject as much bravado into your voice as you can. The effect is dulled by your obvious desperation though.

Eris chuckles, shaking his head as if in disapproval. “What to try that again, Firefly?” He blows a hot breath towards your core, the sudden sensation sending a jolt of electricity down your spine. “I’m sure you can do better than that.” 

You clench your teeth, a vain attempt to keep the pleas trapped within your mouth. Eris remains steadfast, of course, staring you down with obvious amusement. His lips travel a languid path, teeth teasing, mouth nipping, veering closer and closer but never close enough. This is a battle you’ve already lost from the start. 

“Please?” You grit out. “Can I please have your mouth?” 

“You’re a greedy little thing aren’t you?” Eris laps at the marks he’s left, just a few millimeters from where you want him to be. Practically vibrating with need, you dangle on the sharp edge of anticipation. The bite Eris plants on the soft flesh of your thigh is what pushes you off the precipice.

“Please,” you plead, each syllable dripping with need.  “Can I please have your mouth?”

“Well, since you asked so prettily,” Eris drawls, entirely indulgent. He places your leg over his shoulder and dives in. First, he runs the flat of his tongue over your flimsy thong, lapping at your slit. You shudder at the sensation, melting against the sheets as he continues.

“You taste divine.” He growls, the vibrations making you tighten around nothing. Then, closes his mouth over your slit and begins to suck. You throw your head back, heel digging into his back, hips arching towards the pull of his mouth. Your arousal seeps into the cloth. A heartbeat, a fraction of eternity, then Eris licks the lace greedily like a man starved.

“I can’t get enough of you.” He mouths against the fabric. You feel the truth of his words as surely as the growing flame in your gut. Then, he slides your undergarments down one thigh, keeping it wrapped around the other, a mockery of a wedding garter. Finally, his lips close around your clit as he slides one long finger in you, then two, scissoring them inside. You release a choked sob. His fingers are much thicker than your own, but the stretch is a burn you’ve been craving for far too long. 

“Fuck, Firefly, you’re so damn tight.” He murmurs against your skin. He begins thrusting his fingers in and out of you, making it a point to curl his digits in just the right spot. The precision of his movements is enough to drive you out of your mind. Eris shifts between murmuring sweet nothings against your heated skin and drawing precise circles around your clit.

At some point, Eris’s free hand finds yours, intertwining your fingers with his own. It doesn’t take long for you to climb that familiar high. Hurtling over the edge so fast, you don’t even realize you’re cumming until you’re overtaken by a wave of pleasure. It saturates your senses until the only thing that makes sense is Eris, Eris, Eris. 

He doesn’t stop. His fingers hit that torturous angle, while his tongue laps at your bud. “One more,” he demands and you whine in protest. “Just one more, Love.” 

“‘S too much-“ you try to say, but your words crack into a sob. “I c-can’t-“

“You can,” he coos. “My good girl, my lovely little Firefly.” The praise does more for you than his hands could. “Always so perfect for me.” 

Desire is a living thing inside you, an inferno building beneath your skin. You crush his fingers in your grip, while the other threads itself through his silken locks, needing something to anchor you unspool for him.

“Eris, I’m-“ your voice cracks, reality blurring around you as you spasm around him, hips gyrating, driven only by pure primal instinct. He groans, as though your pleasure is as good as his own. His fingers speed up, his tongue licking your bud to and fro with dangerous precision.

“Cum for me, Firefly.”

You do. You break into flames with his name on your lips, back bowing, eyes trained to the unseen sky. You barely even register when Eris climbs into bed with you, too preoccupied with reacquainting yourself with your body. Only when he pulls your pliant form over his chest do you meet his gaze. 

“Are you alright?” There is concern in his gaze, and you wipe the worry from his face as you run your knuckles over his cheek. 

“Perfectly.” An invisible tug calls you to dip your head and taste yourself on his lips. Eris licks the seam of your mouth and waits patiently until your lips part for him. 

Without breaking contact, you wrap your hand around his girth and begin stroking him to full hardness. Your tongues meet, and you relish the trace of your taste in his mouth. Once his cock is ready, you line him up with your entrance. 

You lower yourself onto him, slowly, inch by inch, until you’re fully on his lap. For a moment, you simply stay like that, with him seated deep within you, lips locked in a languid ebb and flow. When you begin to move, you do it together, rising and falling in question and answer to the other. You wonder if there will always be this constant compulsion to have Eris near, the need to feel his skin against yours, to feel his beating heart thump in step with your own. Somehow, against all reason, he’s managed to worm his way into your life, to make a home for himself within the chambers of your heart.

Eris becomes the ruined wreckage of a man as you slide off him up until only the tip remains, before slamming back down. Eris keeps his gaze on you as though he’d rather die than miss a single moment of this. He groans, meeting each and every single one of your movements. His one hand grips your hip, guiding and grinding, fingers digging into you. The other cups your breast, his thumb tracing over your nipple. When your thighs begin to ache, legs quaking, powered only by desire and desperation, Eris easily flips you over. 

“Harder,” you choke out, “deeper.”

“So demanding,” Eris teases but seems happy enough to comply. He places a pillow beneath your hips. You almost whine at the pause, but Eris doesn’t give you a chance. He begins with an unforgiving pace, pistoning in and out of you with abandon. The new angle is torture specifically designed to tear your remaining sanity into shreds. Your legs lock around his waist, hands clasped tightly with his own. His lips hover over yours, drinking in each whimper, each moan, like it's ambrosia and you’re the sole source. 

“Are you about to cum for me, Love?” Eris breathes. And you nod frantically.

“Tell me, Firefly, who’s making you feel good, hm?” He punctuates the sentence with a hard thrust that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head. 

“You are,” you rasp, convulsing around him as his cock nudges the perfect spot inside of you.

“My name,” he demands.

“Eris.” It comes out as drawn out moan, a plea, a promise.

“And who do you belong to?” The force of each slam has you seeing sparks, and when he begins to circle your clit with his thumb? You’re gone, utterly defeated and consumed by the flame. 

“You!” You scream, repeating his name over and over and over. 

“That’s right,” he purrs. Your thighs shake, back arching completely off the mattress. The world breaks apart around you, reality melting into a flash of blinding light. He slows down and fucks you through the throes of rapture, extending seconds into eons while you flutter around him. With one last grind of his hips, you feel his cock throb as he spills deep inside you. 

Eris collapses on top of you, surrounding you in his scorching warmth. For a long while, only your shared breaths exist in the silence. He nuzzles deeper into the crook of your neck, as though unable to help himself.

Eris doesn’t tell you he loves you again. He shouldn’t, for both of your sakes. But you feel it in the featherlight kisses he leaves over your shoulder, his gentle touch as he traces each curve, line, and ridge of your body. He does it with such ease, as though it’s an art he’s perfected through the years, through lifetimes. 

Instinctively, you begin to run your hands over his back, fingers running over the lattice of faded scars there. Anger is a flaming arrow through your chest. Beron is not an easy father to have. Eris, as the prospective heir to his empire, receives the brunt of his brutal scrutiny. What you’d give to have the opportunity to tear that old bastard’s head from his shoulders.

As if sensing your sudden agitation, Eris’s roaming hands become more insistent, kneading away all the tension from your muscles. “Relax,” he whispers against your ear. 

Although he rolls off of you, he doesn’t go far. Without letting you out of the cage of his arms, he curls beside you like a cat, each plane of your bodies perfectly aligned. With his head resting over your heart, a rumble of contentment escapes him.

It’s startling to think that to anyone outside of this room, Eris is a villain, as well-versed in savagery as his father. But you know him, seen parts of him the world would never know. You and Eris have always been two sides of the same coin. 

He understands what it’s like to endure and inherit a father’s rage, to house a mother’s bottomless grief, to be saturated with so much shame it steals your every breath. The two of you are so different and yet are hewn from the same ore, forged from the same fire. Although there are a multitude of reasons why the both of you can’t be together, it feels as though Eris is the only one who's ever truly seen you as you are. 

But self-denial is a circus act you and Eris perform with practiced ease. You’ve already fucked up before and it wasn’t you who ended up paying the price. No, it had been your mother and your sister. Their blood will stain your hands for the rest of your life. 

You won’t make that same mistake again. 

Two twined heartbeats, breaths released and taken in unison, Eris drifts off as your fingers card through his hair. You drink him in, long lashes fluttering as he flits into sleep, faint freckles like stars scattered over the ridge of his nose, and his face, for once, open and devoid of that familiar mask. You map its planes with the tips of your fingers, cataloging each detail and etching them onto the back of your mind. 

Eris will be gone come morning. He always is. The only proof of his presence would be the ache between your thighs and his scent still lingering on your sheets. But for now, though, he is yours, as fleeting as this moment may be. 

This is enough, you tell yourself. 

AN: hello this is my first smut fic in a while & this is a bit different from my usual thing so i was a bit nervous about posting this one. Let me know what you guys think!

Dialogue and banter aren’t my strong suit but i tried my best ;u;

This started as pwp fic but now there’s plot and I’m invested. I’ve got a few ideas and I kinda want to do a series of one-shots for these two.

English isn’t my first language. If you see any mistakes please let me know thru DM! Thank you 💙

[snowlithills]

Theses on Monsters, China Mieville

1.

The history of all hitherto-existing societies is the history of monsters. Homo sapiens is a bringer-forth of monsters as reason’s dream. They are not pathologies but symptoms, diagnoses, glories, games, and terrors.

2.

To insist that an element of the impossible and fantastic is a sine qua non of monstrousness is not mere nerd hankering (though it is that too). Monsters must be creature forms and corpuscles of the unknowable, the bad numinous. A monster is somaticized sublime, delegate from a baleful pleroma. The telos of monstrous quiddity is godhead.

3.

There is a countervailing tendency in the monstrous corpus. It is evident in Pokémon’s injunction to “catch ’em all,” in the Monster Manual’s exhaustive taxonomies, in Hollywood’s fetishized “Monster Shot.” A thing so evasive of categories provokes—and surrenders to—ravenous desire for specificity, for an itemization of its impossible body, for a genealogy, for an illustration. The telos of monstrous quiddity is specimen.

4.

Ghosts are not monsters.

5.

It is pointed out, regularly and endlessly, that the word “monster” shares roots with “monstrum,” “monstrare,” “monere“—”that which teaches,” “to show,” “to warn.” This is true but no longer of any help at all, if it ever was.

6.

Epochs throw up the monsters they need. History can be written of monsters, and in them. We experience the conjunctions of certain werewolves and crisis-gnawed feudalism, of Cthulhu and rupturing modernity, of Frankenstein’s and Moreau’s made things and a variably troubled Enlightenment, of vampires and tediously everything, of zombies and mummies and aliens and golems/robots/clockwork constructs and their own anxieties. We pass also through the endless shifts of such monstrous germs and antigens into new wounds. All our moments are monstrous moments.

7.

Monsters demand decoding, but to be worthy of their own monstrosity, they avoid final capitulation to that demand. Monsters mean something, and/but they mean everything, and/but they are themselves and irreducible. They are too concretely fanged, toothed, scaled, fire-breathing, on the one hand, and too doorlike, polysemic, fecund, rebuking of closure, on the other, merely to signify, let alone to signify one thing.

Any bugbear that can be completely parsed was never a monster, but some rubber-mask-wearing Scooby-Doo villain, a semiotic banality in fatuous disguise. It is a solution without a problem.

8.

Our sympathy for the monster is notorious. We weep for King Kong and the Creature from the Black Lagoon, no matter what they’ve done. We root for Lucifer and ache for Grendel.

It is a trace of skepticism that the given order is a desideratum that lies behind our tears for its antagonists, our troubled empathy with the invader of Hrothgar’s hall.

9.

Such sympathy for the monster is a known factor, a small problem, a minor complication for those who, in drab reaction, deploy an accusation of monstrousness against designated social enemies.

10.

When those same powers who enmonster their scapegoats reach a tipping point, a critical mass, of political ire, they abruptly and with bullying swagger enmonster themselves. The shock troops of reaction embrace their own supposed monstrousness. (From this investment emerged, for example, the Nazi Werwolf program.) Such are by far more dreadful than any monster because, their own aggrandizements notwithstanding, they are not monsters. They are more banal and more evil.

11.

The saw that We Have Seen the Real Monsters and They Are Us is neither revelation, nor clever, nor interesting, nor true. It is a betrayal of the monstrous, and of humanity.

[trikaranos]

TRIKARANOS CHAPTER II: THRESHOLD (part 1)

TRIKARANOS is a comic about Crassus until it isn't. Intended for an adult audience.

SO! Chapter 2 clocked in at over 20 pages, which means I'll be posting it in batches of like, five or six pages as I finish lettering because trying to format 20 pages in a single photoset is a nightmare and I'm not going to do that lmao

⭐ Trikaranos will always be free to read. In the near future, you’ll have the option to support this comic & my ability to spend time making it through Patreon! currently, I have a tip jar!

⭐ There is no set update schedule (chapters vary in length and will be posted as I finish working on them)

⭐ alternative places to read it (coming soon!)

CREDITS all additional art used are in the public domain, and the specific images used are open access, etc

📌 The Mouth of a Cave, Hubert Robert

📖 PREVIOUS CHAPTER | START HERE | ToC (under construction!)

UNDER THE CUT entirely optional: the creator’s commentary, ancient citations, stuff I thought was neat, etc.

on the topic of legendary ancestors and gods and heroes, T.P. Wiseman's Legendary Genealogies in Late-Republican Rome is a really fun read

also have you ever noticed that caves are fucking weird. like. what's up with caves. however: caves perform the same function as a forest (and a maze)

Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita mi ritrovai per una selva oscura, ché la diritta via era smarrita.

-Dante, Divine Comedy

(it's a transformative journey) (a transformative underworld journey, even!)

speaking of which. parents. brothers. oof. can't think too hard about how crassus grew up eating meals with his whole family otherwise I'll feel like I have to walk into the woods and start screaming.

Sophocles’ Antigone (trans. Ruth Fainlight & Robert J. Littman) / Catullus 101 (trans Anne Carson)

[cursecuelebre]

Ancestral Veneration and Why it’s Important

This is going to be a post about a topic that people seem to forget or deem unimportant even fearful about with either good reasons or just never thought about it. I just wanted to mention YOU DO NOT HAVE TO WORK WITH ANCESTORS IN YOUR PRACTICE this blog is mostly for those who are interested in it and not sure what ancestral veneration is.

I’m a pagan and a witch that practices Ancestral veneration in my practice, not around it but it’s definitely a big part of why I practice certain paths. I’ll go in beginner tips, what to expect and the myths, the offerings and the recommendations. But let me go a bit into the importance of Ancestral Veneration and worship in human history since it’s still prevalent today.

Historical importance of Ancestral Worship

Ancestral worship and veneration has been at least one of the oldest religions that humans have ever believed in. Archaeological evidence shows the early humans taking care of their dead and burying them for respect and dignity maybe even courtesy to the deceased. It became sacred to them, imagine back then without fully understanding about the world someone that you spoke and saw now gone, it’s a profound moment one’s life that they must believe that their spirit lives on and they themselves wanted a peaceful resting place. It’s a cycle, many cultures and religions believe that life is a cycle, death is never the “end” rather an end of a journey to a new part of one’s life.

To this day people honor their deceased loved ones, visiting their graves, offering them gifts at their resting places, speaking to them, having their picture on a table surrounded by their favorite flowers, etc. Honoring the dead and respecting the dead is a very revered part of human life and something that we all would like to expect when we’re gone from our living family. Spirits also related or not, the dead as well should be treated with outmost respect and dignity like our ancestors did.

Some cultures like the Romans believed that if the spirits especially ancestral spirits (Lares) weren’t appeased they become angry if worshipped improperly or their will have not be been fulfilled. In Ancient Greek tradition they would place a coin in the mouth for the deceased to make sure their spirits would go into the afterlife safely and less traumatic. Each culture and society had a different way of how the ancestors would live in the afterlife.

Even in the Christian Bible shows the significance of ancestors, there is a reason why genealogies are included in the Bible. How Jewish people revere Abraham as their founding father since he is the first Hebrew patriarch which is very important to them and their religion. How even Jesus is related to David on both sides. Even immediate family is important like Jesus’s mother Holy Mary. In Norse Paganism it’s said that the kings were descend from gods like the Swedish Royal family related to Freyr. In Shintoism it is said that the First Emperor of Japan is related to the Sun Goddess Amaterasu. Japan and other many East Asian countries have a strong relationship and traditions regrading Ancestors.

Why Ancestral Veneration?

Ancestral Veneration is generally taken outside of paganism and witchcraft a very sacred thing for families, they can heal, they can come together, grieve together, reminisce together especially if they knew that person in life. But also asking the deceased loved ones for guidance and protection, to help their family in life whom they love the most. Plus this can help especially if you are into past life regression, we reincarnated with our ancestors many times and they have been able to see us in their time and now. It can be really insightful to understand of who we were in those lives.

Whatever legacy they left behind that you admired from them is continued for generations to come as well as heirlooms, a mother passing down her sentimental items to daughters or their children alike it’s a remembrance of what they were known by as well.

“Cows die, family die, you will die the same way . I know only one thing that never dies: the reputation of the one who’s died.” Havamal, Stanza 77.

If you’re going into paganism or witchcraft or both that are related to your ancestry. Your ancestors are the best teachers and mentors especially if they also have been in these specific practices and traditions. If you want to learn Seidr for instance a magical practice rooted within Scandinavian traditions and you have said Scandinavian roots you can contact a ancestor that practiced it in life and willing to help and teach you. What’s unfortunate about ancestral veneration looking down upon for many centuries making people turn away and against the practice is that it’s said that spirits can become lost if they aren’t being honored or remembered that makes them fade and lost.

Five Myths about Ancestral Veneration and what to expect. This is not going to be sugarcoated, I’m being honest and this what I’ve experienced in my own practice and how many others have experienced as well. I would add on if I forgot anything but these are most common misconceptions I have heard. The red are the myths if you are wondering.

Myth #1: All ancestors on the other side have my best interest and support all what I’m doing This is a common misbelief, now there is ancestors that will support you no matter what and your actions. But if you’re a pagan and a witch there is going to be Christian ancestors who won’t support you at all. Their human spirits with still human functions and beliefs. Not to say you can’t communicate but set your intentions and boundaries before meeting them, some will tolerate and some will make their opinions and beliefs known possibly even try to convince you. I know it sounds like fear mongering but it’s to what you would expect. This doesn’t mean you cannot make contact or venerate them because of it. It’s a choice that is a two way street, even spirits in the other side have freewill just like we do.

Myth #2: All Ancestors are well in spirit No, not exactly, when humans on earth do horrible things or experience horrible things it will take affect in the spirit world no matter what. Keep in mind time works very differently in the other world that it will take centuries for those who are healing to fully recover and those to actually realize their problems, messed up life on earth if they choose to recognize it. Again as I said just humans in the physical world human spirits also have free will and choices.

Myth #3: Only Human spirits are ancestors Nope commonly yes when we think of Ancestors we think of human beings that lived either with us or before us. But this isn’t the case, pets for instance that became our beloved family members and part of our inner circle are our ancestors. My cat that recently passed I had him since I was nine years old, I always thought and treated him like family because of that he merged into my family circle. Also animals can symbols of family, like a bear, an owl, an elephant, etc. that they can be represented as your ancestors as a whole.

Myth #4 : Ancestors are limited to just blood family Also a misconception, close friends and even adopted family members are considered to be close family. Some people won’t have blood relatives in life and find their found family which is just as valid and meaningful like a blood family is. This also goes to if you’re a person that likes to write you might venerate your favorite author, if you like to draw or paint you can venerate an artist that you admired a lot. Your family might have patron saints, deities, or local heroes and spirits that have been part of your family for generations. That’s why it’s nice to know where your family originated from what country, village, city, etc.

Myth #5: No Ancestors of mine did anything wrong Everyone’s ancestors did something horribly wrong in their lifetime, some were messed up people. But there are good ones that aren’t like that anymore, if you want to venerate them that’s up to you and your practice. I personally don’t do it because especially if they did something wrong and have no remorse for it I ain’t venerating none of them.

There is no reason to be afraid.

I know I seemed to be fear mongering in the previous part that’s because I don’t want to sugarcoated of which is most likely to be expected.

The Bottom line when contacting (if you want to have contact with them) and venerating your ancestors is that their no different from a human person in this physical realm. They will have personalities, likes, dislikes, opinions, beliefs like any other human being BUT from my experience a lot of my ancestors are very wise, humorous, kind, and non-judgmental. My advice if you really want to contact someone who is going to be supportive and helpful in your paganism and witchcraft, ask specifically for that person I usually ask for ancient ancestors pre Christian wise but there many folk witches and pagan ancestors that are more modern and recent that can most definitely help you! Speak to them like any other human interaction would be as if you’re talking to a living friend, family member or complete stranger you’re meeting for the first time.

How to Communicate with your ancestors

I have mention “contacting” your ancestors you can speak with them it’s not impossible.

1. Meditation and dream work: Most common and effective way to really get them to communicate you and send signs is through dreams. Meditation for a clear and close connection with them.

2. Tarot: Very common and just as effective, my most recommended first step when communicating with your ancestors. Using a tarot deck can help with putting your foot through the door. There is a great book which will recommend at the of the blog that does ancestral and tarot together.

3. Pendulum and a spirit board: This is more in depth but it has been very effective for me and many others to really connect and communicate with my ancestors. It’s good to state your intentions and boundaries before doing any of said above, but this is where you really need to set it. Before starting grab the pendulum over the board don’t let it swing and say, “I ask of the good and supporting ancestors that have me in good intent and support of my path and practice, I would like to meet you”. Of course you get specific like “I would like to meet an ancient Roman ancestor” that’s just an example of how it would go safely and respectfully.

4. Just talking to them. Yep sounds easy enough, you would just get something that represents ancestors or even a specific ancestor. For instance your grandmother’s rosary and just talk to them or pray to them. It’s a very simple and comforting way to bond with your family.

Offerings

This is going to be a “it depends on the ancestors” but there has been a universal notion of what ancestors do really like. From items, food, drink, etc.

Rosaries for catholic ancestors or the cross for Christian ancestors generally speaking

Pagan symbols for your pagan ancestors

Statues of ancestral gods or saints or other important entities

Sweets: Cookies and cakes are very popular

Alcohol: my Germanic ancestors love it when I offer beer, mead, ale. But also wine and other alcoholic beverages for others.

Regular libations like water, coffee, tea. juice, etc. good substitute if you cannot use alcohol.

Their meals from their home country, my Italian ancestors, recent and ancient love it when I make them pasta.

Incense some cultures call it the food for spirits

Heirlooms

Family photographs

Candles

Coins

Book of the dead, if you meet an ancestor you can record them down into a book that is solely for your family and to be passed down on and on. It’s a memorial service to them that someone knows their name and who they were.

Specific traditions that your ancestors came from for instance libations of wine for your Greek ancestors.

Good ancestral veneration books that personally helped me a lot and I know a lot of others to get started.

Ancestral Tarot by Nancy Hendrickson she helps how to contact and connect with your ancestors and ancestry using tarot

Ancestral Grimoire by Nancy Hendrickson like Ancestral Tarot she goes how to connect with your ancestors but this time how to really work with them. One of the exercises is to work with an ancestor for a month and a different for the next one.

Honoring your Ancestors by Mallorie Vaudoise she gives good information on different ways to connect with your ancestors, the different types of ancestors, she does have a Southern European and Catholic folk magic take to it which is fine but it’s not the sole focus of it but she does put good information in the book to help someone get started. 

Badass Ancestors by Patti Wigington also good beginners guide to ancestral veneration and how to connect through meditations and develop relationships with them even how to deal with problematic ancestors. She goes into how to research your genealogy and useful tips!

[thechanelmuse]

Juneteenth aka Freedom Day.

Juneteenth is a centuries long, Black American commemoration day for the end of American chattel slavery, particularly for the ancestors who learned of their freedom in Galveston, Texas in 1865 — two years after the Emancipation Proclamation.

Although they're no longer in America and we're no longer culturally the same, Juneteenth is also celebrated by the Mascogos, the descendants of Seminole Indians who escaped America at the tail end of the Gullah Wars (1739-1858), in Nacimiento de Los Negros, Mexico.

Up until 1997, the American flag (sewn by Grace Wisher) was the only flag Black Americans waved during the parade and overall celebration. Since then there are only two other flags that are raised and waved: the official Juneteenth flag (made by Mr. “Boston Ben” Haith) and the Black American Heritage Flag (made by Mr. Melvin Charles & Mr. Gleason T. Jackson).

Red, white, and blue. Red, black, and gold. That's it. This is not a Pan-Africanism takeover day. Keep your colonizing ethnocide to yourself and reserve it for cleansing your shit.

Juneteenth flag

Black American Heritage Flag

SN: If you're Black American and haven't done your genealogy or reached roadblocks in your tree, you can learn about lineage tracing and find some tips in this post. Much success.

[the-raven-lady]

a gift for @men-want-me-fish-fear-me !! it told me about its mpreg AU and got me thinking about the complications that would have for someone like Konrad

this one's a bit heavy on body image issues so please be in a good state of mind for this!!

please read the warnings!!

Character: Konrad Curze

Song Inspiration: Real Men - Mitski [YouTube] [Spotify] "Real men don't need other people / And real men suck it in / Real men don't flinch or bleed in public / Oh, I think I'm a real man."

Warnings: mpreg, pregnancy symptoms, self image issues, self-inflicted gore, lamenting dark realities, implication of potential non-con, mentions of infanticide

Word Count: 643

Konrad groaned as the weight shift nearly threw him off balance and crashing into the stones below. Had the nausea not been enough? Blackened nails and coarse fingertips drag over the sensitive flesh of his aching abdomen, the skin taut against the growing life beneath. The Night Haunter loathed his natural urges. Being bound to a biological clock beyond his control was one of the many gifts of his father that he would rather have ripped out long ago.

As if he hadn’t already tried. 

It was easy enough for him to sink his clawed finger tips deep into the putrid skin of his belly. The iron tang of blood spilled had only served to spur him on, ripping and tearing and pulling as the offending organ until it was nothing but fleshy pink viscera on the floor. How miserable it had been when it had not even taken a week for the gland to revive itself. The regenerative nature of primarch biology seemed to leave him no choice in the matter.

Righting himself on his perch, Konrad elected to take a break from his prowling to calm the waves of nausea washing over him. He would never get used to it. A zing of electricity shot up from his tailbone when he sat against the stone ledge, drawing a gasp from him, then several curses. He gently rubs the base of his spine to soothe the ache.

Konrad felt delicate. Every little action that he would normally perform without effort could prove to be too much on his pregnant body. Perhaps he would be fine with it if he chose when the urges to breed took him, but his genealogy couldn’t even grant him that. Throne save the next helpless serf that wandered in his path when it kicked in, for Konrad knew their chances of survival were slim at best. This was a part of his father’s great vision? Bouncing on the cock of passers-by then birthing sons into a legion of murders and scum? It infuriated the primarch to no end. His only saving grace was that he never seemed to inflate to the size of his expecting brothers, remaining more gaunt and lithe.

Perhaps if he were Guilliman or Fulgrim, he could try to find an ounce of pride in bringing a new life into the world. Maybe then, he would see a purpose to all of the lost meals, cramping, and searing pain of the birthing process. Maybe then he wouldn’t hate the changes to his body, losing the ability to bend and contort as he wished. Maybe then he would want to hold the boys as they came out and coo at them as his brothers did.

His legion would never be grateful for the effort he put in for them. He would spare all of his blood children the mercy of ever having to integrate into the Night Lords with a quick snap to the neck if they weren’t always taken from him so quickly. Darling of his brothers to chain him down each and every time he neared emergence after they discovered the fates of the first several cycles. Fulgrim had been mortified hearing about how Konrad had disposed of the newborns like waste.

The Imperial Palace was always quiet at this time of night, nobles and Astartes alike turning in by this hour. Only Custodians remained, silent watchers they were (at least they could mind their own business), and his brothers would rarely come to check in on him. Konrad let out a weary sigh and tucked his legs the best he could against his swollen belly, protecting the fetus within. Emotions threatened to boil over in his chest, and Konrad Curze had to choke back a tired sob.

Things would be much easier if he didn’t still love each of his sons anyway.

[llyfrenfys]

Followers- Dw i angen eich help / I need your help

This is a post I've been sitting on for a while and it's time I finally write it to let you all know how I am, where I'm at and the progress of Prosiect Llyfr Enfys.

So, as I alluded to in previous posts, I had a health scare at the end of May which landed me in the hospital. I've spent June recovering from that and dealing with a few life changes as well (which I will talk about later).

Unfortunately, me and my partner had to deal with an unexpected bill of £200 this month which had to come directly out of my savings and is a huge chunk of it.

I've been doing research in preparation for hopefully doing a Masters at Aberystwyth in September on the topic of LGBTQ+ Welsh terminology before the 20th Century. My undergraduate dissertation was on the topic of 20th-21st Century LGBTQ+ Welsh terminology (which is currently unmarked due to the marking boycott). Hopefully after graduation I can share it with you. But my research into older terminology means needing to travel to different archives and libraries in Wales, which at the minute, I just can't afford. The closest place would be Bangor, but I have no money to spare at the minute and Prosiect Llyfr Enfys is not funded by any scheme or grant- it's currently all funded by myself.

For the first time in my life, I've been considering using a food bank. We're not quite at that stage yet, but it's precarious. It's another unexpected bill away from a critical situation.

Currently, my monthly expenses for anything related to the dictionary totals around £40 (subscriptions to archives, libraries, genealogy research tools) which have been instrumental in my work. For example, I couldn't have written my articles for Hanes LHDT+ Cymru without access to ancestry sites or online newspaper archives. This does not include other expenses such as bus tickets to get to the National Library of Wales when I need to, or costs of purchasing dictionaries in order to source them in my work.

All of this is to say that i need your help:

I have a patreon which I will be posting in next in July- if you enjoy Prosiect Llyfr Enfys and want to help keep it going, please consider subscribing today by clicking the link above or in my bio. The lowest tier is affordable and if you have the cash to spare, will enable me to keep on working on the project. If you want to make a one-time donation, I'm considering enabling tips on tumblr for those who would prefer that.

If enough people are able to subscribe to keep the project going, I can start to make some concrete plans for a trip to Bangor and share my journey with you all and involve you in the trip. If I'm unable to raise enough funds, I will have to make the decision to pause the project until after my Master's. I do not currently have a publisher, which is also a big factor in that decision, if I need to make it.

All your support is greatly appreciated- if you cannot donate, please share this post.

As ever, huge huge diolch yn fawr to everyone who has supported the project so far- with your help, we can get this dictionary published to help benefit the whole Welsh LGBTQ+ community and beyond.

[kaledya]

Hürrem reply !🌸

Yeah that moment was LIVE ! It happened in the same time ! I was so surprise ! _

Well for her form, for me Vassago has giving her education about the Goetia for sure. So she probably know how in theory but doesn't have the practice ?

Her father,  in his eyes, (even if he never said it to her and their relationship of father-daughter is complex) Hürrem is for him a Goetia and he doesn't care she doesn't have the title or the secret that she is.

But in another way because of his mistake (he think it is his mistake), he has lost his best friend for this child.

Both Parvin and Vassago where just sad and they know each other so well, skinship just happened, in a hope to feel better just for a moment, even if there is not really true love (except the love of friendship) and Vassago gay.

I think that night they must have been in depressed drunk mood.

So in conclusion I think Vassago try to give Hürrem the best without truly being involved. He also need to be careful of Paimon.

_

Ahah the dialogue was so funny ! It make me think of Kuzco, at the end of the movie he just take potion and transform in bunch of animals (he want the one that would change him in human) and some guards are running after him and each time he take a potion he transform in the worst animal ever for the moment

Kuzco *needs to fly* Also Kuzco *transform into a parrot with wings so small we can't even call them tiny*

Same with Hürrem there ! And I just LAUGHED imagining Giovanni's face like "Well, that was not exactly... what I have in mind."

_

Also I realise I actually can rumble and show details and 'spoilers' about Hürrem! Like its not Lolicia.

Sooo I draw Hürrem genealogy tree on her mother side !! I had so much fun !

So some little things and details !

  - I didn't have a name for the grandmother yet, so I call her Miss Bunny ! She is absolutely the bunny girl from Bambi as inspiration.   - Paimon thinks *"damn it. Too pretty."* about Miss Bunny.

Fun fact : Miss Bunny and Parvin have bunny tails !

  - Hürrem actually look like her grandmother a lot! She has the same hair texture, rabbit's weaskers and shape of face with the plump cheeks. And also her dad, with her general shape.   - Parvin looks a lot like her dad! And has a narcissistic guy, Paimon probably love her more for it and that is why he kept her close to him even if he asked her to stay in her palace all the time.

Miss Bunny, Parvin and Hürrem all have horns that get smaller.

Miss Bunny has big horns with two shades of pink. Parvin has medium horns with two shades of purple. Hürrem as small horns with shade of white and dark green.

Fun fact : Parvin's nose has the shape of a bird beak but she has a normal mouth underneath.

Parvin is truly half Demon, half Goetia. Where Hürrem is a Goetia with parts of demon (bunny fur on tail, weaskers, horns)

Fun fact : the tip of the two feathers on top of Hürrem's head is plum color like the feathers on the back of Vassago's head.

Miss Bunny, Parvin and Hürrem all have two shades of colors in their hair.

Parvin is half-rabbit and half- great horned owl or raven (whatever Paimon is)

Where Hürrem actually developped the parrot form of Vassago to be a special type of parrot : a sun conure parrot.

Also Parvin has purple eyes and stars on her cheeks because of the meaning of her name.

Parvin has bunny ears because in the early design of Hürrem, I draw her with bunny ears but I change my mind.

That is all ! Sorry I rumble a lot but I can finally say some things without spoiling anything! Hope you like it !

_

I will dwell into ibis paint things ! I'm not forgetting ! Have a great day 🌸🌸🌸

Yes, it was quite logical that she knew it in theory but not in practice.

I really liked his father's attitude towards Hürrem from this aspect, even though their relationship is complex, it is nice that he still sees her as a Goetia.

Yes... This is something that really happens in real life too, some fathers can unintentionally blame their children for the loss of their wives (in his case his friend), and this leaves a gap between them.

And I really love how Vassagon tries to give Hürrem the best without getting too involved.But of course he needs to be careful with Paimon.

-+-

Yes lmao I remember Kuzco, it was one of the really good cartoons!

And yes, I can't remember Kuzco ever turning into an animal he wanted throughout the series. Usually, when he wasn't a llama, he was the wrong animal in the wrong place.

And LMAO Yes!! And now he'll have to run away with those little legs because he can't use his wings.

Yes, the same goes for Hürrem. She can't be whatever she wants.But on the bright side, it's a really cool scene when it happens.

And yes that was exactly Giovanni's reaction *Takes the little parrot rabbit and starts running on 4 legs*

---

YIPWPWPWPWEPEPE SPOILERS✨✨✨

First of all, I seriously didn't expect Parvin to be this beautiful.Seriously the design is 10/10 It totally gives off the royal vibe and seriously, whether it's the color palette or the look.

I seriously can't describe in words how beautiful she is.

And I just realized that technically Parvin is Stolas' half-sister. Did they know each other?

--

I think Miss Bunny is pretty good nickname. And Paimon is right, she is really pretty.

-Yes, Hürrem definitely looks more like her grandmother than her mother.And as you said, a little bit of Vassago

-Yes, someone like Paimon would probably like his daugther more just because she looks more like him, but to be honest, Parvin is really beautiful.🛐

-It seems normal for the horn gene to become rarer as the generation progresses, as a result, noble blood becomes more dominant over time.

-The detail on Parvin's nose was very clever!!

-I think it is a very nice design idea that all 3 of them have 2 colors in their hair. It really adds liveliness to the character's hair.

-Paimon is probably a great hornet owl.

- I'll look into it when you mention it. Sun conure parrots are really beautiful, they remind me of mangoes.

(Another Nickname for Hürrem lmao)

-The color of Parvin's eyes and the stars on her cheeks are truly a wonderful detail!!

-Rabbit ears would suit Hürrem, but I think it would be a better choice for her to look more Goetia.So I think you made the right decision.

No no no you don't need to apologize for rumble I seriously love reading what you write!!!! And I seriously love learning more about of your characters, too.Thank you for taking the time to write!!!

But ahm, I mean you can say spoilers, I don't mind UwU

I wish you good luck with ibis paint

Have a good day🌸🌸

[redux-iterum]

Writing question, not redux question! Do you or Lynx have any tips for planning such elaborate stories? Every detail of your world and writing has such thought put into it, so I’m curious how you organize or plan your works!

DULLARD: Well, what mainly helps this blog in particular is having two people working on this that specialize in different areas! My main job is to write the story, the characters and the more general lore, as well as answer asks. Lynx works in the specifics of the timeline, history, genealogy and keeping track of all the little details we come up with for future plots. I joke that I’m the blue collar to her white collar, if that makes sense - we have both sides of writing this setting covered. We also have an absurd amount of shared docs to keep track of everything and are in constant communication with each other, presenting ideas and discussing whether they’re worth keeping or not. We do write everything down, but I would be remiss not to note that Lynx’s excellent memory is the only reason half of this shit hasn’t been lost to the ether. 

If I had to give a specific tip, it would be to write EVERYTHING down - every plot point you think of, character note, idea (whether or not you use them), worldbuilding concept and anything else. You never know what you’ll forget, especially if you’re working alone! Having multiple documents organized by topic will help with that (one doc for mythology, another for culture, another for plot points, etc). Don’t do what I do, which is to name my documents and images extremely unhelpful names for the purposes of amusing yourself. You WILL lose track of which doc has what thing.

LYNX: I will be the first to admit that I'm far from the best person to give writing advice, considering I haven't published anything substantial and just have a lot of incomplete scribblings which may never see the light of day. Dullard and I also have wildly different ways of approaching our writing; they're more of a plotter/outline writer/architect and I'm more of a pantster/discovery writer/gardener. A lot of writing advice is geared towards architects while gardeners (at least in my experience as an aspirant writer) have their methods of writing left largely untouched, and so get the idea that writing as you go along is "bad writing" (ignore the entire body of works of Stephen King, Hayao Miyazaki, and Terry Pratchett, all written more or less on the fly). 

Yeah, so that's how I have barely written anything since I was a teenager :D 

I'm still relearning how to write myself; I just discovered I'm a gardener last year and I have years of ineffective writing advice to unlearn. I'll parrot some advice I've been told.

Keep documentation on-hand for easy referencing. I use the app Obsidian to make myself a personalized wiki for characters, worldbuilding elements, and suchlike. It's not built for having writing in it, but I can wrestle it into working for my needs!

It's okay to leave some elements ambiguous and open-ended. It means less work for you and more mystery and fun for your audience (even if that audience is yourself!)

If you're a gardener like I am, treat your long-form writing like each chapter is an episode of a TV show. You might have the season finale sketched out, so find ways to get your characters there and what complications arise in their path!

Your characters are tools. You may be attached to them, but they are here to serve a function in the narrative. If they are serving their function poorly, that's when they're a bad character.

The only wrong way of writing is one that stops you from writing.

[cleolinda]

In which we try to do something with the Patreon

I'm gonna try something tomorrow: the first of the month is when the Patreon billing cycle starts, so on Sunday (October 1st), I'll open a $5 level. (Right now I just have a $1 level with tumbleweed rolling by as a tip jar sort of thing.) There, you'll be able to see Effort Posts, you know, the essay-length things about vampires or perfume or music, or anything else that strikes me, early. At least 24 hours early, in a handy PDF file, and also, I can see if people like the piece before I post it here on Tumblr. Some personal pieces may stay Patreon-only, depending on the topic (do I want Tumblr at large commenting on my genealogical research? Probably not!), so there's also that. Similar things I've already posted are the Varney recaps, Donna Summer and Disco Demolition Night, Sparking Joy (Jean Patou, 1930), or my retelling of Tiny Moist Hand, so that's the kind of thing you'd see early.

That up there, in screenshot preview format, is a two-part (true) story called "I Grew Up in a Haunted House and I Didn't Notice"; it's about 5300 words all told. (Question: would you rather have the pdf in the larger font size, which I found easier to read on mobile, or the standard 12 pt, both shown above?)

After a day or so, I'll put the story here as two normal tumblr posts. So you will be able to see them here, but if you want to know how tf I could have been haunted and not known it and then my sister said I had it all wrong anyway, you can see it tomorrow on Patreon Dot Com Slash Cleolinda.

What I would also like to do is start posting weekend links as free/public posts on Sundays--kind of like a newsletter you can get whether you chip anything in or not. I'm more concerned with people knowing where I am while all these social media platforms crumble into the sea, honestly. I'll also archive some older posts as PDFs as well, although that might take a minute, so there'll be a back catalogue to browse.

As we go along, I'd like to see if I can either record some readings or just do short (under five minutes) voice posts, but I would also want to type up transcripts for those, so I need to get a feel for how much time that takes. I miss doing podcasts, although I deeply need to get a new headset. And some Throat Coat. I'm already looking over the two short Halloween stories from Livejournal that people mentioned, the ones I read aloud years ago; I'll repost those as we get further into October, and I have some posts about scary movies in the works. And you'd get those delivered to your inbox rather than them be solely awash on the waves of Tumblr.

Anyway, I'll reblog this tomorrow once the $5 level goes live, but I thought I'd get some feedback a bit in advance.

[canwriteitbetterthanueverfeltit]

Hello! I just saw a post about libraries being cool and having great things to do without any examples (valid, you should just trust this) so heres a short list of some things you could do at /my/ library just this month!

Book club! Discuss a book while eating treats!

Apple Cider tasting!

Candy tasting!

Sewing lessons used to sew some toys into a big, worse toy! (creepy style)

DIY creepy terrariums!

Halloween movie viewings, also with snacks!

A craft festival for kids and families!

Drink a strange Halloween themed punch and play the game Werewolf!

A variety of crafts you can just sit at a table and do whenever!

Chase each other down with Nerf guns and then break for pizza before chasing each other down again!

Learn some board games or just play on your own!

Genealogy help!

Meet to discuss bullet journaling and get tips!

Donate and pick up used Halloween costumes!

Story time for little kids

Computer use and help

Reading and browsing books!!!!

Puzzles!

Scavenger hunts!

Your local library with have these exact offerings but I bet they have something! And they usually want suggestions! GO TO YOUR LIBRARY

[dwollsadventures]

House Spirit (Early Modern)

House spirits are a group of beings united by behavior rather than genealogy. While there are some supernatural creatures which will perform domestic duties for an incentive, house spirits are intrinsically tied to the property they live on or in. One could say that they are symbiotic with humans, but the truth is not so simple. House spirits are anything but servile. In their minds, the house they live in is theirs. The humans inhabiting it are merely tenants which they have to pick up after. Violations of the spirit's rules lead to an eviction, so to speak, where the spirit tries to force them out. Unlike mundane landlords, a house spirit is important to a home's health. They keep the house from aging, holding it together in a very real sense. Many inhabit farmsteads where the prosperity of the crops and animals is in no small part due to the house spirit's presence. As the farmers toil during the day, the spirit will do their own labor, vastly improving the health and conditions of the animals and plants. There are many varieties of house spirits. Specifics, like forms of appeasement, behavior, appearance, etc., depend on the species. Regardless of what breed you encounter, remember to show respect. 

-Habitat: Coterminous with human settlements, especially farmsteads. 

-Slayer Tips: Spread a fine material capable of catching invisible footprints, like flour or sugar. Just make sure not to leave it out for too long, or else the spirit will clean it all up. 

--

The first urban creatures of the bestiary! The brownie and nisse are based on less conventional descriptions; the brownie has no nose and a brown mantle (where the name "brownie" comes from), and the nisse has a single eye. The domovoy is based on a famous painting by Ivan Bilibin. The kobold is based on their supposed origin as the ghost of a child and their infrequent appearance as a pillar of flame. Finally, the portune and lubber fiend are here to demonstrate the size variation. Respectively they're the smallest and largest of the house spirits.

[h-worksrambles]

I have a real bug bear with this strange assumption I see in a lot of online discussion of Engage. That if you didn’t like Engage’s story you must be some Three Houses newbie who doesn’t know what Fire Emblem is.

My dude, this ain’t my first rodeo. I’ve played a pretty good chunk of the series at this point. I played Blazing Blade and Sacred Stones. I played Awakening and Shadows of Valentia. More recently I finished both Tellius games and Genealogy of the Holy War. I know Fire Emblem writing can and has been far better than whatever the hell they were doing with Engage. Hell, I like Three Houses but I don’t think it’s the best Fire Emblem story by a long shot. I could write a whole other piece on my complicated relationship with that game’s writing.

Playing the other games just better highlights to me how Engage is definitely trying to tell a story that harkens back to those games, but routinely comes up short. It wants to be breezy and colourful like the GBA games, but its aesthetic and character design is far less cohesive than any of those three games. It wants to cleverly marry gameplay with story like the SNES Jugdral games but is too scared to let its player punches last longer than a chapter. It wants to key into Awakening’s simple yet heartfelt nostalgic template but fails to clear even that middling bar due to an inability to set up any of its big emotional moments. It repurposes multiple plot points and story concepts from Fates, but doesn’t really improve on any of its shortcomings in setup and character writing.

Most of all, it’s at war with itself, unable to decide whether to be a campy romp that is pure self indulgent fanservice, or a more heartfelt story with genuine dramatic moments. It opens with a wonderfully cheesy tokusatsu esque transformation sequence and never reaches that level of camp again until near the very end. Meanwhile, there are rare moments of genuinely good character stuff. But they’re the exception to the rule as most of the story’s big emotional moments are utterly lacking in buildup. The writers just had a cool scene in mind and didn’t bother to put the work in to earn any of them. What we get is an uncanny valley that ends up simply being boring. It’s too dry and self serious to embrace its naive camp. And it’s too phoned in and sloppily written to really be earnest. There’s a burgeoning theme of family and self identity that’s begging to be explored more but never goes anywhere. Between Alear’s past and hints of a character arc, the clumsy half integration of the Emblems, and other half formed concepts and characters like Veyle, Lumera and Sombron, Engage is a story with a finger in several pies at once, but never placing more than the tip on any of them.

It’s not ‘just a simple story’. Shadows of Valentia and Sacred Stones are simple stories. Engage is honestly one of the more out there and wild plots in the series. Nor is it ‘not taking itself seriously’. It’s absolutely trying to make you feel something. But it rushes through and fumbles every good idea it has. Engage reminds me more of modern Pokémon than anything. It wants to play at being a big RPG. It wants to make you sit through hours and hours of cutscenes, give you a huge colourful cast of characters, and end on a big anime-esque finale. But its dialogue and cutscenes are flat, the characters never hit their full potential, and the big hype moments are totally unearned and out of left field.

If Engage’s story really was just safe and simple, I wouldn’t even mind. If it had more respect for the player’s time, and trimmed down its cutscene length, acknowledging that it’s not doing anything ambitious and just letting you get to the gameplay quicker, that would be fine. Conversely, if it actually did go all the way with any of its half formed themes and characters, it could be genuinely interesting. Hell, it could even have a been a totally bat shit, campy spectacle thar leaned utterly into the cheese and I’d probably have loved it. But it’s none of those things. It’s just incompetently put together. Sloppy, irritating and painfully dry.

The unending Three Houses Vs Engage discourse just misses the forest for the trees. That not only has Fire Emblem not fixed it’s worst writing habits in over 10 years, they’ve actually gotten worse.

It’s apparently too much to ask for a story that can walk the line between falling apart under the weight of its own ambition, or doing the bare minimum and relying on melodramatic spectacle to hide its own shallowness.

It’s too much to ask for a game that is able to give its main character real depth and flaws to grapple with because that would get in the way of the player’s power fantasy, letting them feel like the world’s most special little chosen one who everyone loves unconditionally.

It’s too much to ask for a 50 hour RPG with over 7 hours of cutscenes to reach even the standard level of acceptable-to-good generic fantasy writing that most of its franchise’s predecessors reached.

Engage’s story isn’t a ‘return to form’ because it’s ‘simple.’ It’s not ‘prioritising gameplay over story’. They were trying to tell a story and failed, nothing more to it. It’s an anniversary game that tries to harken back to the series’ past but only repeats its worst qualities with none of the strengths.

[etymology-of-the-emblem]

Brian / ブリアン, Iuchar / ヨハン, Iucharba / ヨハルヴァ, Danann / ダナン and Dahna / ダーナ

Brian, Iuchar, and Iucharba are the three sons of Danann of House Dozel in Fire Emblem: Genealogy of the Holy War. These brothers get their name from the sons of Tuireann found in the Irish tale The Tragedy of the Sons of Tuireann. In the story, it is said that the three sons of Tuireann and the three sons of Cainte—one being Cian, father of the god Lugh—have bad blood between each other. Anytime they encountered each other, a fight would break out. While traveling without his brothers, Cian saw the sons of Tuireann from a distance. Fearing what might happen to him, he turned himself into a pig to blend in with a nearby herd. But the eldest Tuireann brother, Brian (sometimes called Uar), noticed this man's disappearance and ordered his younger brothers Iucha[i]r and Iucharba to find him amongst the swine. The younger brothers were turned into hounds by Brian and slaughtered the pigs, with the elder brother casting a spear to pin down the fleeing Cian. Upon him revealing his identity and requesting mercy, Iucha[i]r and Iucharba were deeply apologetic; Brian, however, had no desire for peace. He convinced his brothers to join him in stoning Cian to death.

Though the brothers buried the corpse, the torn earth told the truth. Quite literally, in fact: when Lugh arrived at the site, the earth spoke, recounting what happened. As punishment, Lugh places an eric—a toll for taking a life—on the brothers: they are tasked with traversing the world and collecting eight treasures. These consisted of three apples from the Garden of the Hesperides (of Greek myth); a pigskin capable of perfectly healing anyone from King Tuis of Greece; a poison-tipped spear (debated as to being the Gáe Assail or the Areadbhair) from King Pisear of Persia; two horses and a chariot that can ride across the ocean from King Dobar of Sicily; seven pigs that can be eaten and reappear in the morning from King Easal of the Golden Pillars; the young pup Failinis from the King of loruaidh; the cooking spit of the women of Inis Fionnchuire, an underwater island lying between Ireland and Britain; and three shouts from atop the hill of Miodhchaoin. The brothers were able to accomplish the first seven tasks. These typically followed a pattern of Brian deciding to appear in the court of the given king as a poet or mercenary seeking work, directly asking the king to just give them what they want, and slaughtering everyone when they are denied. However, the last task would be the end of them: Miodhchaoin and his three sons would do battle with the brothers, already left ragged from their previous encounters. Though Brain, Iucha[i]r and Iucharba came out victorious, they would live just long enough to shout thrice from the hilltop.

The most apparent connection between the sons of Tuireann and the sons of Danann is found in the characters' personalities. In Genealogy of the Holy War, Brian seeks vengeance for the death of his father and grandfather and remains allied to Julius and the Loptrian Empire. Iuchar and Iucharba are both conditioned by their father to enact injustices upon the people of Isaach, but in truth have good intentions. Iuchar in particular leans more into the comedic aspect the younger Tuireann brothers present in the Irish tale.

In Japanese, Brian's name is ブリアン (rōmaji: burian), and is officially romanized as Burian. Far less obvious are the names of the younger brothers; in Japanese, Iuchar is named ヨハン (rōmaji: yohan), officially romanized as Johan, while Iucharba is named ヨハルヴァ (rōmaji: yoharuva), officially romanized as Johalva. As it turns out, the similar ヨハル (rōmaji: yoharu) and identical ヨハルヴァ are some of the most common renderings of Iuchar and Iucharba, though ユッハル (rōmaji: yuhharu)and ユッハルヴァ (rōmaji: yuhharuva) are also frequently used.

Though not named after their father, Danann's name is also very deliberate both in Japanese and internationally. Danann comes from the Tuatha Dé Danann, the group of deities to which Dagda, Lugh, and Tuireann's family belong. The name of the Tuatha Dé Danann means "People of the goddess Danu"; the identity is a controversial subject, as the name doesn't appear much beyond this. However, in the Lebor Gabála Érenn, amongst the genealogies of the Tuath Dé, it is mentioned that Brian, Iuchar, and Iucharba—listed instead as three of six sons of Delbáeth, also called Tuirell Bicreo—were born of Delbáeth's own daughter, Donann (sometimes called Danand). For this, they are called the "three gods of Danu". In Japanese, Danann is named ダナン (rōmaji: danan), officially romanized as Danan. This name most likely is based on the same information.

The city of Dahna also relates to the Tuatha Dé Danann; at least, with its Japanese name. In the original language, Dahna is called ダーナ (rōmaji: dāna), officially romanized as Darna. This is derived from ダーナ神族 (rōmaji: dāna shinzoku), translating to "Dan[u] god tribe", a less common rendering of the Tuatha Dé Danann in Japanese based on the literal meaning. As the city is the site the modern gods of Jugdral blessed the Twelve Crusaders—who in themselves have been deified over the hundred years since their time—it makes sense for this location to carry the name of the Tuath Dé. This name choice also relates to the Second Battle of Mag Tuired, in which the Tuath Dé, long oppressed by the Fomorians that ruled Ireland after their arrival, revolt and return to power—much like the people of Jugdral did to the Loptrians.

The localized name, Dahna, seems to come from the ad-Dahna Desert, a region of the Arabian Desert. This would relate to the city being on the border of the Aed Desert, but has no other real connections.