#he died after she was in her crystalized form

[specshroom]

•The Queen of Curses•

Part 1 / Part 2

(Ok So think of this as like a Sukuna wins and everyone dies AU lol. True form! Sukuna. Added the cursed blood bath for no reason. Suggestive, titty stuff but that's it, MDNI, She/her reader, no use of Y/N)

Sukuna didn't rein over the Heian Era alone. It was always him and his lover, burning and slaughtering together. Their love for eachother was well known across the land. People knew not to be fooled by her less intimidating looks (in comparison to her husband) for she was just as brutal and heartless as he. 

All that changed when sorcerers from the era used all they're combined might to seal the Curse Queen inside a small cursed object, formed only from the combined sacrificed corpses of their comrades. 

They knew that the only way to defeat the King and Queen was to separate them and they succeeded. After hearing of the fate of his lover Sukuna flew into a blind rage leading to his own defeat at the hands of the same sorcerers.

One thousand years of relative peace passed with the two lovers separated but still yearning for each other. 

Luckily for the lovers, the ever devoted Uraume never stopped looking for a way to set their masters free. After centuries of searching and begrudgingly accepting a little help from Kenjaku, they finally found the cursed object that their Queen had been trapped in, a simple orb a little bigger than a tennis ball. It made Uraume's stomach turn thinking of such a powerful force being shoved into such a small thing. They carried the black orb with them everywhere while continuing the plot to releasing Sukuna. They found themselves whispering to it, compelled by the obsidian globe. They didn't know if their master could hear but they felt like it was right, like they could almost sense their masters overwhelming aura, compelling them to spill out everything they know. So Uraume spoke to it quite a lot, telling the dark orb and the beast inside about Sukuna's fate, about the new world, about Kenjaku and the plan to free her and her lover. 

The plan that finally comes to fruition. Sukuna is freed, his true form is restored in all its glory and hes wreaked havoc on most of Shibuya just as a warm up.  Uraume kneels before him.

"Master Sukuna."

 They say bowing their head.

 "Hmm?" 

Sukuna hums an acknowledgement, eyeing them with contempt. 

Uraume brings the dark crystal like ball out of their loose robes and holds it up, presenting it to their king. "Now, with your power fully restored we can release the Queen from her containment."

Sukuna stares at the ball in the sorcerers hand and gestures for Uraume to give it to him. He holds it as gently as his colossal hand is able to. It seems to get hotter in his hand, so hot it would surely sear the skin of a mortal. He pears into the orb only seeing his reflection in it, the Curse king nods to Uraume. He places it on the ground and they both step back, arms reaching out towards the orb on the ground.

In unison they both let out powerful blasts of cursed energy aiming right at the cursed seal. Strong streams of power, one white hot and the other pearcing cold, the orb starts to crack emitting a glowing white light. "It's breaking! Don't stop!" Sukuna orders and Uraume grunts but dutifully follows orders. The cracks grow wider and the light shines brighter before it's too blinding and they both cover their eyes as a powerful blast pierces the air.

In the settling dust stands a figure that's all too familiar to the both of them. They both watch as the figure shifts, leaning back and stretching their arms above their head, releasing a groan that is appropriate for someone who hasn't been able to move much in a thousand years. When the woman finally turns to Sukuna she sighs and smiles, letting out a relieved huff. Sukuna grins triumphantly and opens all four of his arms expecting a tide of thankful affection from his lover. When she takes the first few steps towards him her smile starts to waver until it's down to a grimace. Sukuna tenses as her eyes darken. He opens his mouth to ask what's the matter as she walks up to him and-

*SLAP*

Silence envelops the already desolate atmosphere. Sukuna's head is turned to the side, his eyes wide. He blinks before glaring at the offender with a look that could kill. She stares up at him with eyes just as deadly. 

"HOW COULD YOU LEAVE ME IN THAT FUCKING BALL FOR SO LONG!!?"

Sukuna stares with his mouth open for a second genuinely shocked into silence until that second is over and he responds with equal vitriol. 

" HUH?! THAT WAS YOUR OWN FAULT WOMEN! DONT BE UNGRATEFUL!" 

The two fiery curses glare at each other with such violent intent, the very air around them heats up. 

"WHAT KIND OF SHITTY HUSBAND ALLOWS HIS OWN WIFE TO GET SEALED!"

"YOU CAN'T BLAME ME FOR THAT! DIDN'T I JUST SET YOU FREE?"

"DONT TAKE ALL THE CREDIT YOU BASTARD! URAUME'S THE ONE WHO-" 

As if the women just remembered that the other sorcerer exists, she turns around and there her loyal subject is, kneeling in her presence. 

" Welcome back master, it's good to see you" 

The woman's face brightens up immediately, "Uraume~" She sings running up to the sorcerer and lifting them into a bone crushing hug that would've killed a lesser being. "Oh, Thank you Uraume. My dutiful subject, you did so good." The Curse Queen coos at the sorcerer, squishing their face into her chest and stroking their duel coloured hair. Uraume doesn't hug back as to be respectful of their superior but they don't push back either, just letting their master man-handle (woman-handle?) them. 

Sukuna clicks his tongue at the show of affection and crosses two of his massive arms over his chest. No doubt in disbelief that HIS wife doesn't embrace HIM first after a thousand years spent apart.

The wife in question turns to him with Uraume still in her arms, an irritated look on her face. 

"What's your problem?" 

"My problem is that MY wife is being an ungrateful bitch." 

The benevolent woman stills and Uraume peers up at her from their place, nestled into the cleavage of her loose fitting kimono. The woman sets Uraume down onto the ground gently. She breathes a heavy sigh and in less that a second she's on Sukuna throwing a mass of red hot cursed energy right into his face. He blocks it in time and is able to keep blocking her continuous fast attacks. She gets frustrated and lets out a powerful blast that shakes the earth and forces him to jump back to avoid the blast.

She laughs with relief, finally being able to let out all that pent up cursed energy feels amazing. Her tattoos (similar to Sukuna's but not quite the same) almost seem to glow with the immense energy output being let off from her body. Only the tattoos on her face, neck and wrists are visible but Sukuna knows very well what the rest looks like, having traced every inch of ink with his fingers.

Sukuna takes the opportunity while she's distracted by the pure euphoria of letting her energy loose and comes barreling towards her, she can't react before he tackles her to the ground. He pins her hands down with two of his hands and another goes to roughly grab her jaw.

"Does it feel good to finally let off some steam, Baby?" 

The king of curses teasingly remarks from above her.

"Baby? That's new." She questions with a teasing grin. Her words are a bit slurred from the way her husband is holding her jaw.

"Might as well get with the times." He bites back with an even more cocksure grin. She scratches and kicks at him and bites at his hand. With all her concentration she channels the sheer amount of pent up cursed energy in her body and lets it burst out in a deafening blast that knocks Sukuna off of her. Static reverberates in the air.

In the few seconds it takes for him to recover she takes the opportunity to pounce on him pinning him to the ground. Grinning from her place above him her heavy breaths and beating heart match his. Her crazy, alert eyes meet four others with the same sentiment.

"I missed you so fucking much." Sukuna says before he pulls her by her robes into a deep kiss. The kiss is somehow aggressive and sensual.

Two of Sukuna's massive hands go to her waist and thigh holding her body to his as he sits up. The third hand is on the floor for balance and the last is tangled in her hair pressing her further into the kiss, as if that's even possible. Both Cursed beings are glad that they don't need to breath or else they surely would have suffocated each other by now. 

The queen of curses has never been more pleased by the fact that her husband doesn't seem to know what a shirt is. Sukuna has voiced many times that he wished his wife shared the same sentiments only for her to scoff at the suggestion, although, now she thinks the idea is one of the best he's ever had.

They fight for dominance with their tongues. Still locked in the passionate sloppy kiss the woman unlatches her hands from his hair to slip off the robes she was wearing over a loose fitting kimono. She unwraps the black accented white Kimono, rather slowly in sukunas opinion to let her breasts fall free to the warm air. 

Sukuna releases his mouth from hers, licking his spit slicked lips to stare down at his beautiful wife's beautiful tits.

"Yeah, remember these are mine. Only mine." Sukuna grumbles lowly before smooshing his face right between them, sighing deeply like a thousand year old itch has finally been scratched.

"Aww, is Ryō a little jealous?" The woman preens in a patronising manner while lightly stroking his fluffy hair.

"Poor baby~" She coos, repeating the pet name he used for her. Her teasing only gets a glare and a growl from the beast of a man currently buried in her tits, holding her impossibly closer to his face.

She chuckles down at him, a loving yet menacing look in her eyes.

"Well maybe I should let Uraume- where did they go?"

She looks around the scorched city landscape looking for her white haired subordinate and as if they heard her words summoning them they appear with a respectful bow.

"I have made the preparations for your bath."

"Thank you, Uraume~"

The woman beams and turns to the man who is still occupied with her tits, he's now picked a tit to suckle on, fondling the other in his rough hand.

"come now Ryo, it's time for our bath." She says curtly and the man groans with his mouth full, absolutely dreading even the idea of his tongue leaving the hardened nipple he's been sucking on. If the two objects poking her ass are any indication if it was up to him they would never get to the blood bath Uraume so kindly set up for them.

She tries standing up and pulling away but the man is latched on tightly, all four arms clutching around her as if they never want to be an inch apart from her again. The more she struggles the bigger the two chubs in his pants grow. She sighs and struggles once more.

"Uraume planned this out very nicely for us, Ryomen. Just do what I say Damnit!"

She pulls at his hair and he bites down on her tit in response, earning a yelp and a harsh smack on the head from her. He laughs, not with the mouth on her tit but with the mouth on his stomach. She peers down at it, as if she just remembered it's there. Without wasting more time she grabs the large tongue crushing it with her grip and tugging on it hard.

Sukuna releases her tit to yell out in pain.

"OW, WOMAN! You should be grateful for every ounce of attention I give you! OW!"

As Sukuna rages, she snorts and jumps out of his now loosened arms. Turning her back to him, she approaches the other sorcerer who's head is still bowed.

"Uraume, would you kindly show me to my bath?"

"Of course, Master"

Uraume stands and bows their head. Holding out their arm for their Queen.

She holds onto Uraume's arm, purposely squishing her still exposed breasts into the sorcerer's side as she smiles down at them.

"I guess we'll have the bath all to ourselves then, Uraume~"

Uraume closes their eyes with a knowing smile and nods in response, very accustomed to the games the two lovers would play with each other, often forcing them right in the middle. Their Queen would often promise that she'd one day make Uraume flustered, something that to this day has yet to occur.

The sorcerer doesn't even flinch at their powerful master fawning over them, stroking their arm and pressing her now marked up tits closer into them as the two walk off towards the bath Uraume prepared.

"HEY!! WHAT THE HELL!?? URAUME!"

Sukuna sits in disbelief at his wife's antics. As if he's only now remembering what a tease she is and has always been.

His wife looks back at him over her shoulder, she shrugs her kimono off her shoulder, exposing her tattooed shoulder to him before turning back to Uraume snickering.

Sukuna huffs and grins, shaking his head. He's so fucking happy to have his wife back.

(AN: I was originally planning to make this smut but... It just got away from me😭😭 sooo... Maybe in a part two? 👀👀)

[thisisnotthenerd]

the rat grinders timeline

after this last episode i feel like i need to clarify all of this so i can get an idea of what the scheme actually is. anyway:

pre-high school:

porter is a scion of the house of cliffbreaker, formerly the house of sunstone, who sought to take the name of ankarna and shift her divine domain from dawn and justice to war and conquest. the house expressed frustration with ankarna for not being willing to strike ruvina or cassandra and after the sundering of the cliffs of calcoth, went into hiding as the cliffbreakers.

porter is nominally a paladin of ankarna, but wishes to take her place as a deity of war and conquest, to be able to strike down cassandra and ruvina.

freshman year:

the high 5 heroes form on the first day of school: kipperlilly copperkettle, lucy frostblade, oisin hakinvar, ivy embra, ruben hopclap, mary ann skuttle.

that same day, the bad kids get detention and face down the corn cuties in the cafeteria. kristen and gorgug die and get brought back by aguefort. jace and porter are the first teachers on the scene; they are established as a duo. may have been attempting to install the rage crystals in kristen and gorgug.

kipperlilly notably doesn't like riz, and feels that the bad kids are getting special treatment. all of the rat grinders have animosity towards the mad kids in some manner.

the high 5 heroes take easy quests that they know they will succeed at.

kalina enters the spy's tongue curse with jace and porter, and is only able to talk about ragh because he was tangential

prompocalypse: kalvaxus falls. yes! is borne in the gym. crown of the nightmare king is stolen. ragh sees arianwen with kalina, then jace and porter and gets kalina transferred into his body via a lay on hands from porter.

sophomore year:

at some point, the high 5 heroes are brought in by jace and porter and start facing high level monsters after they are defeated by porter/jace, thus grinding them for xp.

name change from high 5 heroes to rat grinders--ivy, oisin, ruben, and mary ann for, kipperlilly and lucy against.

lucy is given an mcat for paladin classes so that she might become the champion of ankarna (old)

porter kills "lydia barkrock", likely seeking to release and/or destroy bakur

kalina splits off to raise the nightmare king again, with assistance from angwyn and arianwen abernant. she is defeated and thus unable to work with jace and porter for a time. the nightmare king is apparently integral to the raising of porter as a fetal deity; perhaps as an associated deity, the nightmare king would guide his ascension.

nightmare king is reconstituted as cassandra, championed by kristen applebees.

the rat grinders go on their own spring break quest to the mountains of chaos, presumably to visit the temple of the fallen sun. they are accompanied by jace stardiamond. they do not find the name of ankarna, but likely start establishing the teleportation circle.

after the quest, they are all implanted with the rage crystals and start manifesting more power and anger. this is presumably because they died. and were resurrected.

lucy goes back on the agreement and reaffirms her commitment to ruvina. she withdraws her change of deity paperwork. the rat grinders + porter kill her and bury her in the far haven woods.

porter has correspondence with bobby dawn about collaboration and the potential uses of devil's honey.

mazey phaedra is elected student body president and is given a faculty request to remove the inaugural period of following student body president from the bylaws

summer of the night yorb:

night yorb is released; the bad kids spend the summer chasing down the cult of the night yorb and building the solar lasso. they are out of elmville and generally focused on the red waste

church of sol/helioic church loses followers due to the long night

kipperlilly prepares to run for student body president

the rat grinders request buddy dawn as their replacement cleric

kipperlilly tracks down eugenia shadow and threatens to dig up her grave, after waiting until the first moment of her junior year

ruben writes “in space no one can hear you scream” and it becomes the song of the summer, outcompeting fig and the cig figs. he later writes "get mad!" with porter's advice

the loam family faces embezzlement charges wrt frosty fair and the location of frosty fair (the festival of frost) moves to the thistlespring tree

thistlespring tree is established as a root warden for elmville

the soil is laced with rage crystals

kvx bank changes from red to blue, signaling the presence of oisin's ancestor as their backer

junior year:

aguefort goes on holiday with ayda to the dawn of time (time quangle). gilear goes on holiday with hallariel. this leaves the school in the hands of grix, who was intended to eliminate threats to the school, and jace stardiamond as vice principal. the existing magical protections on the school are still present--they cannot kill mazey and elmville cannot be plane shifted while the AAA is in session.

kipperlilly begins campaigning only to be faced with the ineffable kristen applebees and her campaign manager, the ball

porter refuses gorgug's initial mcat request, hoping to incite rage in him

porter starts taking ambrosia to prepare his body for ascension, using rage to contain himself and not proceed to the afterlife.

the loam family is murdered and their case is dropped

cassandra comes to the astral plane and is trapped and killed. she remains in stasis, surrounding and protecting ankarna

fabian hosts the first party of the year: oisin starts setting his ping-pong ball traps and steals adaine's mephits in order to alter the cloud rider engine. ivy sees fig, transformed as lucy. the bad kids interact with buddy. ankarna pushes yes! through to kristen. gertie, who has been supplying the devil's honey, becomes nemeses with fabian

fig multiclasses as a paladin and is taught by porter--she is encouraged to rage, and pushed away from being a paladin of cassandra.

buddy is also encouraged to become a paladin and gets mcat paperwork

ruben performs at frosty faire and starts the ritual at the thistlespring tree--grix shows up to stop him and is defeated by the bad kids

yolanda badgood follows up with jace about lucy's death--she is brought to the far haven woods and killed. the bad kids find the bodies

the bad kids go to fallinel and find the name of ankarna on the ancient menhirs, and are faced with divine intervention from cassandra and galicaea, unbeknownst to the rat grinders.

they eliminate the curse of the armor of pride and remove bakur from lydia barkrock

fig writes dawn of justice and takes dominion of ankarna's original domain

bobby dawn fails kristen and sends the bad kids to the last stand

kristen catches kipperlilly killing buddy dawn during the last stand

buddy is raised by porter using a rage crystal

rat grinders go to ground, and prepare to go back to the temple of the fallen sun. constant nondetection from ruben, oisin, and possibly ivy

adaine catches jace stardiamond with a scrying into his office

bad kids do teacher evaluations: fig does porter & zara as one instead of two--this gives them the sacred scroll with the name of the intended deity written by the previous deity's champion. zara tells fig one was never submitted for her.

fig writes righteous rebel, makes her oath to ankarna, and releases both songs as singles that rocket up the charts

ruben sees wanda childa die

bad kids go to the temple of the fallen sun and investigate. fig is vindicated about porter.

fig gives the false name (bacharath) to porter and he stuns her in the hall

riz gets into his office and figures out the ascension scheme

the bad kids go to ruben's house and go through the rat grinders' plans

election night: the storm is triggered, the plans for seacaster manor are triggered; cloud rider engine is set and the enchanted ping-pong balls go off. they plan to have oisin's ancestor strike down the bad kids as they make ready to transport elmville during graduation.

the ritual

the ritual is centered on aguefort adventuring academy and requires certain things:

the location where a god was borne (the gym)

the ascending deity (porter), who is a champion of the new domain and has a body prepared for ascension

mortal followers seeking to change the domain/raise ankarna (the rat grinders + jace)

divine attributes of the deity (hammer, armor, etc.)

the writing of the name of the fetal deity on sacred scrolls by the champion of the old deity (fig)

the physical divine domain (elmville, suffused with rage crystals and transported to the astral realm), which requires the removal of the protections on the town that were cast by aguefort

the metaphorical divine domain (ruben's song get mad)

the nightmare king, as an associated deity and the one who would nurture the new deity

and the name of the old deity (ankarna) that they might sunder it and in her image make a new god

[lavandulawrites]

Okay but here me out with this idea, I don know why my brain made this connection but cause Snezhnaya is snowy and stuff and Snow White normally takes place in a snowy climate.

Capitano with a Snow White darling.

Like with the Calamity saw her once or twice before she fell asleep, and she is like the former Cryo Archon’s daughter or something. So when her father dies she falls asleep as since he created her out of snow or something to be his daughter, she lives off of his power or the abyssal power corrupts her body so much that she gets so weak and falls into a deep slumber. The Tsaritsa has her body in room in the Zapolyarny Palace, taken care of while she slumbers for hundreds of years.

So then when Capitano becomes the first of the Fatui Harbingers he finally sees her again, only in a sleep like death.

Snow White

Yandere Capitano x reader

This such an amazing idea!╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ I’ve always loved Snow White and it’s such a fitting concept for Capitano. (Let me know if anyone wanna be apart of my taglist).

Masterlist

Warnings: obsession, future murder, delusional Capitano, female reader

Word count: 901

The first time he saw you, you were sitting in the winter garden within the place. Your hair was elegantly braided in Snezhnayan fashion. Your makeup was minimal, but well suited. Your pale blue gown was flowy, yet warm given the white fur that was sewn onto the sleeves, the end of the skirt and the collar.

His breath was uncharacteristically caught in his throat at the sight of your beauty. You had looked up at him with a gentle and innocent smile. You didn’t seem intimidated by his towering height nor his muscular form.

The second time he saw you was at a ball hosted by the cryo archon. That was the day he learned you had been brought into existence by the powers of the archon, your father. Capitano found himself even more awestruck at your beauty, knowing your existence was above human nature. Your eyes had a certain glow one would never find in human beings. Your ethereal beauty stunned everyone that looked your way as you moved around the grand ballroom in your gown that sparkled like ice crystals.

The Captain bowed before you as he asked for a dance. You happily obliged. One of his large hand found the small of your back. The other held your hand gently as he lead you through the room in fluid dance that even surprised him. You were a talented dancer and he felt blessed by the heavens above to be in your presence. For once he longed for an entity above humans. His Khaenri'an kin and companions would be greatly disappointed to see him like this, but the black haired man could not care less. Not when he had found the woman he could imagine spending eternity with.

The evening came to an halt sooner than he had expected, and soon he saw you bid him farewell with a wave of your hand and a bright smile upon your lips.

Centuries had passed since the former archon had died and you, his daughter, had fallen into an eternal sleep. He kneeled before the Tsaritsa as she made him the first ranking Harbinger. He was a proud man and promised to serve her and her country for an eternity. He took her pale delicate hand in his large hand. A black colour with faint cobalt blue lines had started to form on his fingertips as a sign of the curse. He brought his hand to his mouth and kissed her gently. She smiled down at him with what resembled motherly love.

After the ceremony he was left alone, free to roam the palace. The new archon had placed great trust in him. He wandered the palace with his head held high and with a new identity. His steps came to an halt when he was faced with a large set of doors that looked like they were made of thick ice. He couldn’t see through them as their thickness was too great, but he sensed a presence behind them that lured him closer.

His hand itched towards the handle with a pull of an invisible force. As in a trance he opened the doors. They were heavy, but it was no struggle thanks to his inhuman strength. The room was dark except the small ice lanterns that casted a dim icy light. The room was lacking in interior, save for the lanterns and a big clear ice coffin. He could faintly see the outline of a person inside it.

Capitano’s feet moved on their own accord towards the enigmatic coffin. As he came closer he got a good look at the person inside. His heart hammered against his chest and his throat closed at the sight of you. When he saw that your chest heaved gently, he let out a shaky breath of relief. Finally, finally after all those years he got to see you again. He had thought it was a myth that the daughter of the former archon, the woman made of snow and ice, was sleeping in a ice coffin within the palace.

Capitano placed his hand on the lid. The cold ice sent a biting sensation through his gloveless hand, but he could not care less. How could he when the love of his life was right before him?

“Don’t worry, my princess. I will get us reunited sooner or later. Just be patient” he whispered as he kneeled before you with a hand over his heart. “I promise.”

He slowly rose to his feet when an idea struck him. His movements stilled as his blue eyes were locked onto your sleeping form. What kind of man would he be if he left you alone? He gritted his teeth as hot raging hatred filled his cursed veins. How could your father be so careless? Capitano wished with all his heart that your father would appear before him alive, just so he could kill him again.

He would find away to convince the Tsaritsa to let him away your hand in marriage. He would also have to find everyone underneath the former archon’s court and kill them for their inability of taking care of you. After he was done, he would finally have you all to himself. Waking you up shouldn’t be too difficult with a little bit of help from his colleagues and her Majesty.

You would never get out of his reach ever again.

[downbaddetective]

On one of my recent rewatches (note taking for color analysis), my partner sat and watched with me, and I thought I would share some of the things he had thoughts on in no particular order:

•He also believed that Niko's sprite attention cloud was a physical manifestation of soulmatedness/lesbianism directed at Crystal like the rest of us did

•He owns an older Miata, so he was pretty pleased with the fact that Esther owned one (the first time I had watched, I involuntarily clocked it (I am not a car person), so when she confirmed that I was correct in the last episode I had told him that he should be proud of himself, lol.)

•Loved Esther up until the very end

•He enjoyed the music

•I don't think he was fully sold on Niko at first, but she quickly became one of his favorites

●He liked Crystal the most from the beginning (He asked how people hated her because I talked to him about my frustration with some weird takes that were going on, to each their own, but that one also still confuses me.)

•'You're my best mate' "oof, not the friend zone"

•Both Esther and Niko seemed to have all of his favorite lines

•I accidentally spoiled the fact that Niko 'dies' but I didn't say anything about what happens after the fact, so when the last couple of episodes were foreshadowing her dying, he basically went 'but I don't want her to die :('

•In addition to the previous point, the morning before we watched the last two episodes (we had to watch it in chunks), he was talking about how he doubted that we would get renewed (not in a mean way) but the last episode closed out he immediately said he was angry there was no season 2 and that this show deserves at least a season 2

•He wasn't fully convinced that it's Niko in the Igloo at the end

•He wants Jenny to go to London because he loves her

•He got frustrated with nobody listening to Tragic Mick's story and cheered when Niko asked him to continue

•He wants Mick to be able to be a Walrus again

•He essentially said 'My god, he wants to fuck the cat' lol

•He struggled to describe the vibes he was getting off of the Cat King, he has yet to find the words

•He loved the cats (probably because they said fuck and other such words)

•He also enjoyed the dandelion sprites

•There wasn't a whole lot that he had to say about Edwin and Charles, just kinda vibed

•He apparently missed the Cat King's cat form the first time, so he saw the second instance and said,"Of course he's orange"

•I also asked the rhetorical question, "Who told the ghost population of Port Townsend that the Dead Boy Detectives and their new medium were there?" Without hesitation, he went, "It was the Cat King."

•He has been exposed to Orbwin and Chorb content on here and is deeply entertained by it, so he looked really worried after the explosion at the butcher shop so to help I pointed and said "Look, it's Chorb!" It helped

So, needless to say, if you haven't already watched it, you should watch Dead Boy Detectives.

[mondothebombo]

✨Small Canon Things in Ninjago That Aren’t Necessarily Important to the Plot, but Important to Me Pt 2✨

(in honor of the first post reaching 2.5k notes)

1. the reason the ninja can’t summon their elemental dragons anymore is bc they’re too traumatized

2. Kai takes laxatives

3. Lloyd felt responsible for Nya’s sacrifice

4. Morro took a shot while he was in Lloyd’s body

5. Cole’s favorite color is orange

6. Chamille, the master of form, is a “bad girl” post s4

7. the ninja were literal children when they waltzed into Chen’s tournament and proceeded to beat all the adult EMs in the competition

8. prior to seabound, Nya resented her parents for not being there in her childhood, her mother more so than her father (✨mommy issues✨)

9. Nya is hyper-independent as a result of her childhood; while Kai is more openly accepting to his parents because he has a better memory of them

10. Wu was close enough with Lilly that he could remember whether or not she wore a necklace

11. Cliff Gordon was a “womanizer”

12. Lloyd didn’t naturally hit puberty until s8

13. Cole and Jay are best friends

14. whether or not you see Pixane as a bf/gf situation in canon, they are canonically soulmates

15. Jay has not yet received his inheritance letter

16. at least up until the Merge, Zane’s statue is still in downtown Ninjago City

17. ninjago citizens are fully aware their only protection are six super-powered teens/young adults

18. the ninja are still famous, public figures

19. Jay is the only ninja who hasn’t died (yet)

20. despite being a terrible actor, Lloyd is always sent on the undercover missions

21. the ninja are on first name basis with each others parents

22. Cole’s favorite genre of music is soft rock

23. Zane has selective memory

24. after Nya’s sacrifice, each ninja depicted a different stage of grief (Zane-Denial, Kai-Anger, Lloyd-Depression, Jay-Bargaining, and Cole-Acceptance)

25. Cole never actually had feelings for Nya, he was just flattered by the attention and petty about Jay being mad at him

26. elements react based on the master’s emotions

27. Jay is so emotionally dependent on being around other people that he loses his mind when he’s alone for too long

28. Lloyd had a chat with god and wasn’t impressed

29. Cole’s snoring can be heard throughout the monastery

30. Nya is not a morning person

31. Kai and Skylor have been in a situationship since s4

32. Lloyd being the grandson of god is not common knowledge

33. the group of civilians that were on the bounty when Cole fell are probably the only ones who truly realize the danger the ninja put themselves in on the regular to protect the city, and how close they are with each other

34. Wu didn’t want to tell the ninja about the green ninja prophecy because he was afraid of having a repeat of Morro

35. since s8 at the very least, the ninja all shared a room on the bounty until the monastery was rebuilt

36. Jay’s confidence in his own abilities fully depends on what others believe he’s capable of

37. several villains have called the ninja out on being “just a bunch of kids,” and then proceeded to get their shit rocked by said kids

38. the overlord can gloat to Lloyd all he wants to in crystallized, but fact of the matter is Lloyd defeated him when he was like twelve

39. Kai and Nya raised and took care of each other, it wasn’t just Kai doing all of the work

40. Kai is two years older than Nya

41. Zane’s biggest fear is losing his humanity

42. Lloyd’s biggest fear is becoming his father

43. Nya’s biggest fear is losing her individuality

44. Cole’s biggest fear is letting his family down

45. we the audience are the only ones who see the characters as legos; they’re real people in-universe

46. Kai likes spicy food

47. while elemental masters are immune to their elements to some extent, their elements can also be shown to hurt them in some circumstances

and as always, feel free to add on!!

[deconstructthesoup]

Looked at my Dead Boy Detectives swap AU, decided that it could be better, and ran with it. So... here ya go.

(For those of you who need a refresher---it's an AU where Crystal and Niko are the ghosts and Charles and Edwin are the alive ones. "Dead Girl Detectives," basically.)

Crystal is pretty much unchanged from the original concept---she died in the 1920's, she was a psychic socialite with absent parents, and she acted like the quintessential spoiled wild-child while secretly being fascinated by detective stories. She died when she got possessed by David the demon, who puppeted her body around for weeks... until she finally managed to wrench back some form of control, threw both of them off of a building, and wound up getting sent to Hell. Now that she's out and living free as a ghost, she's doing her level best to leave her old self behind and be a better person---partly for herself, but also so she can prove that she doesn't deserve eternal punishment if Hell ever comes for her again.

Niko's still an anime geek from the 1990's who was an outcast in life, but her death circumstances are different. Instead of dying from the dandelion sprites, she accepted an invitation to a party in an effort to try and socialize more after her father's death... and she got killed in a prank gone wrong, trapped in an abandoned mansion that used to belong to Crystal's family. She probably would've even moved on if it weren't for Crystal showing up and helping her out, giving Niko a reason to stick around. Niko's doing better now, but she still hasn't really processed her feelings surrounding her death. (Also, her hair's still white---she just dyed it that way, and it's never changed even after she died.)

Charles is also pretty much unchanged from the OG concept---he's still an irresponsible witch who got possessed by David and lost his memories as a result---with the added detail that he's one of many incredibly powerful magical people who David's possessed, wrecked havoc with their powers, and killed, though Charles thankfully survived the ordeal thanks to the Dead Girl Detectives. Also, I'm fairly certain that Charles is not only well aware that he's bisexual and out, but he and David were almost certainly dating. Or at least hooking up.

Edwin's still a socially awkward comics nerd and shut-in, but I decided to just have him get the paranormal parasite as a way for him to get involved with Charles and the Dead Girl Detectives---though, instead of a dandelion sprite that's all about soaking up attention, it's a hornet-themed sprite that feeds on people's insecurities and self-loathing. I think that he still butts heads with Crystal a little bit, but his bookish, studious nature winds up becoming incredibly helpful to the team, and he gets along great with Niko and Charles. Especially Charles.

Now, after thinking about it, I realized that if I was going to do a four-way swap with our main crew, it would probably make sense to do the same with our supporting cast. So:

The Night Nurse---or Minerva Knight, as I've tended to name her in my AUs---is in the place as Port Townsend's resident witch, though her motives are pretty different from Esther's. She has no need for any spells of eternal youth, having stopped aging a while ago, and she considers herself the protector of Port Townsend, keeping the forces of the supernatural at bay from the mundane residents... even if that means occasionally sacrificing a child or two to keep some of the more unsavory beings satisfied. Needless to say, Minerva has a very skewed view of morality, and unlike her canon counterpart, she can't really be swayed to change her mind. She's scary.

Esther, meanwhile, is in the lovely position as the Crow Queen, a charming and campy trickster being who exists to wear fabulous, over-the-top outfits, rule over her little feathered darlings, and to be a menace to everyone she meets. Her whole deal with Crystal isn't exactly flirtatious, but it's enough to give Crystal a gigantic bisexual awakening. And whether or not Esther's really all that interested and is just fucking with her, she's a lot of fun, and she's definitely instrumental in helping Crystal realize more about herself.

Thomas (the Cat King, but we're calling him by his first name) is Charles and Edwin's landlord---the owner of a queer bakery who's having a bit of a quarter-life crisis and is therefore a bit of an asshole to almost everyone he meets. Despite how prickly he is, though, he has an energy about him that makes him automatically endearing to every single misfit teen in a fifty-mile radius, and he's less than enthusiastic about it. Deep down, Thomas doesn't really mind, because he is a pretty lonely individual (not that he'd ever admit it).

And lastly, Jenny is the Night Guard On Duty in the Afterlife Lost & Found Department---overworked, burnt out, and thoroughly cynical when it comes to the affairs of the living. She's convinced that all she really needs is the big case that'll get her a promotion to a much less stressful position, and tracking down the Dead Girl Detectives seems to be just the thing. Of course, she's not as dedicated to her job as she appears to be, and even years of working in the most depressing place in the universe hasn't fully worn her down.

And, uh, other than the fact that I'm gonna have to figure out a stand-in for Monty... that's what I got!

[bisexual-horror-fan]

"The Test." Part Two. Sugar Daddy AU. Poly!Ghostface X FEM! AFAB! Sugar Baby Reader.

Part one here! Hey, hey, hey! Here it is part two! Picking up RIGHT where part one left off! So this is basically all porn, so happy to be finishing this behemoth! So I might add onto this in the future if people want it, there is still the rest of this three day weekend to go over! Feedback very much encouraged on this one! Thanks for reading and enjoy!

---

Rating. Explicit. Length. 7.6K. Billy Loomis/Stu Mach/Sugar Baby FEM! AFAB! Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings: Age Gap. Sugar Daddy/Sugar Baby Relationship. Sex Work. Restrained Reader. Tit Slapping. Nipple Play. Pain Play. Knife Play. Blood Play. Vaginal Fingering. Edging. Orgasm Denial. Vaginal Sex. Anal Sex. Blow Job. Throat Fucking. Extreme Kink. Double Penetration. Multiple Cream Pies. Dirty Talk. Praise. Degredation. Aftercare.

---

Billy felt a thrill run through him. This was unbelievably exciting, so far, this is everything he’d been wanting, all he’d been hoping for. He and Stu both looked at eacdoh other, even though he couldn’t see the eyes of his long term best friend, he knew he felt the same. Giddy, alight, ready to really dive in. A deep breath to compose and really ready himself. 

You wait, but you aren’t left questioning for long, the hand that isn’t holding the knife comes into view, he palms the now obvious clothed erection so close to your face, so easy to see with how your head is currently tilted. “I think we are going to put that mouth of yours to work.” 

The robe is hauled up, and his belt is open, he isn’t in a rush but also clearly he wants to get inside you after all this build up, zipper comes down, then he is exposed, thick and hard, hanging right there, close enough to feel the heat radiating off of him. 

You open your mouth and try to appear somewhat reluctant about it, a valiant attempt to mask the strong desire to have him in your waiting mouth, you manage it well, to not show the excess of saliva that pools or the want in your eyes from the prospect of getting him inside. You want to please them, play your part of the unwilling victim. Your eyes are locked on the bead of pre-cum at this tip, you want to taste it.

“Mmm, can’t you at least try to look a little happy about it?” The question makes you scoff, you fight back the urge to roll your eyes and instead, while keeping your mouth open, you quirk up at the sides. A nearly comical open-mouthed smile forms from the action that in response makes you feel this wash of an emotion that is surely a cousin of humiliation, it also gets minor praise from him, “Better.”

It hits your ears right before, he shoves his cock into the orifice with such brutality it makes even you, the experienced paid slut for hire, gag. It isn’t the hardest you’ve ever gagged, yet there is still a particular kind of force behind it, your body rocking away before making yourself roll forward, taking him deeper, to the root until your lips wrapped around the base. 

He holds, staring down at you, the bulge of himself buried in your throat apparent and crystal clear, if he reached down and squeezed he could feel the pressure of his fingers through the walls of your neck for sure. As it stands at this moment, he doesn’t do that, the knife is still pressed to your throat after all. The view is spectacular, combined with the sensation, it is enough to make his breath stutter, and you can hear it from behind the mask. 

Slowly, he pulls out before bucking his hips forward again with a quiet curse, “Fuck.”

That one exclamation does absolutely everything for you, the cadence of it, you are able to hear the heavier breathing, both sides of that word almost bracketed by a moan. He starts to get into a sporadic rhythm, it is hard to keep track of when he is going to jam himself in or retreat, but you are trying to anticipate his needs, stay on top of it and please him as best as you can, you are doing this to save your life, right?

While you are distracted trying to work with him, move your head, take him as he pushes forward and pull back when he does so you can sneak in breaths whenever he isn’t lodged in your throat, you are assaulted with another sensation leaving you floundering to contend with. 

What sensation is that? The light touch of leather gloved fingertips on the tops of your thighs, they move, patterns being traced that you can’t keep track of before they slip between your thighs and then part them, spreading your legs, exposing yourself. You can feel drool slipping past your lips, running down your face, gravity helping pull the wetness on its way, you still keep up, but barely as finally fingers touch you where you are soaking and aching. The touch is gentle in comparison to how brutal your mouth is getting fucked, one hand palms you carefully, fingers press but don’t penetrate, they rub but not where you wished they would. The first hand shifts, spreads your lips open and then the second joins, thumb dips slightly into your hole collecting slickness before tracing up, circling around your already swollen clit, and you stiffen, moaning around the intrusion between your lips. 

“God, that feels good.” The cock is forced deeper into your throat, “Again.” 

The pressure increases and the circles get smaller, the feeling becoming more intense, and you moan again, louder, whimper a little at the jolt of pleasure that overtakes, and this is how it goes. One between your thighs, touching and rubbing your clit, the other fucking your mouth with abandon until you feel lightheaded from the lack of proper oxygen, trying to breathe while blowing and getting pleasured like this was proving to be impossible. You swallow thickly, trying to manage the excess of spit you were producing, and it was as if they planned it ahead, the timing of it is perfect. Right when you swallow, the first one pushes his hips forward, the head of his dick breaching the tightness of your throat mid-swallow, and the one between your legs? He slips two fingers into your leaking hole, his thumb pressing on your clit all the while. You gag and your walls clench around his fingers, the drag of the leather of his gloves feels much better than it should, his thumb is swirling around and around your clit, your hips buck, wanting to get more of the sensations he was foisting upon you.  

It becomes a blur of trying not to choke on spit or the dick in your mouth as you are catapulted to the edge with alarming speed. The push and pull of the entire act, the heightened emotions from the scenario at hand, all of it, has you near cumming, your body betrays you, tightening, getting more tense and trembling slightly, almost, so fucking close and right before you can tip over, before that first wonderful spasm can start, the fingers are ripped from your hole, leaving you dangling. Your hole is grasping, clitoris throbbing, both silently calling out for something to push you over and finding nothing. Your hips squirm and you whine around the dick in your mouth, if you were able to pout around the thick shaft, you would have.  

“Stop hogging her mouth and let me have a turn.” The voice cuts through the lustful haze, it sounds playful but with an edge that mirrors the knife being held to your throat. 

“Fine.” He grunts before pulling out of you, your eyes take a second to adjust, managing to catch the sight of the wet leash of your saliva still connecting him and you break as he moves back, the blade lifts off of you as you suck down a series of deep breaths. You don’t have time to try and regain some sense of yourself as you are spun on the smooth, polished table-top with ease. Now you are reversed, confronted with the man who was just fingering you, glove still wet as he hauls his robe up and starts opening his pants. 

You wish that your hands weren’t tied and pinned under you right now, you wanted to reach out and tug him close to you, wanted to taste him the moment that second cock was revealed. Patience was apparently wearing thin, pointer finger and thumb at the base of his shaft, near neatly trimmed coarse hair, he guides himself into your open and waiting mouth. 

The moan of satisfaction was so arousing, you swear to God above you feel yourself get wetter. 

“Fucking shit-” He gasps as he thrusts experimentally and the other one hums in response, “Right?” 

There is less than five thrusts into your mouth before you feel a hand between your legs again, two fingers thrust unceremoniously into your hole, you clench, body tenses, you had backed off from the edge, but you were still incredibly sensitive. His thumb presses to your clit but doesn’t rub, the fingers fuck in and out, the pressure combined with the lack of movement of his thumb is killing you viciously, it isn’t enough, you want movement, more friction. However, you are drenched, the wetness is a comfort and a curse, makes for fluid and smooth work, but it also dulls the feeling slightly. The butter soft leather is lovely, sure, but it isn’t what you need right now. His fingers curl, he finds what he wants and he abuses it liberally, he curls into the firmer, rougher tissue causing you to moan, your eyes squeeze shut. His thumb doesn’t move a single centimetre, he drags you to the edge with his middle and ring finger working at a steady pace, up, up, up and there you are, so fucking close you can almost taste it and he stops. Doesn’t even take his fingers out because of the risk he might accidentally trigger it, he just holds, you are throbbing around him and he waits for the edge to recede before he starts again. 

You groan, much more focused on the intrusion in your cunt than the one in your mouth, you had fallen into a good rhythm with that, mostly letting him do what he wanted, take the lead, do what he wished the same way his partner in crime was.

Surviving the next two edges was equal parts blissful and terrible. He worked them out of you quickly, you, of course, let him without putting up a fight, just moaning mournfully around a mouthful of cock.

You wonder if you can get away with it, with grinding your hips up without him protesting, could instead put forth the effort to rub your clitoris on him instead of waiting for him to rub it that last pass needed to make you cum. If you timed it right you could make it happen, push yourself over, steal that much coveted orgasm out right from under him, because who knows if they had plans to let you cum tonight at all. If you do that, make yourself cum using him before he is ready for you to? Who knows what he will do. 

Should you risk it? You swallow around the cock shoving its way into you, inching further and further down your throat, once more your head spinning with want, so fucking close, you are nearly there, his fingers feel incredible. You are buzzing with pleasure, you could always blame it on the lack of proper oxygen, so with that thought you do something stupid.

You move. 

Hips squirm, arching up and then coming back down, the slip of him, of the firm pressure sliding up your clitoral hood and then back down fully over your clit makes you cry out, walls gripping a bit tighter, and that is as far as you get. That knife is put against your hip, your eyes are watering slightly with the effort and severity of the throat fuck, a sharp inhale through your nose, shoulders shuddering as you jump from feeling the cold steel against heated flesh. 

You feel your pussy fighting it, trying to go over the edge, his thumb was barely touching you now, had eased way up, so the contact was extremely minimal, his fingers inside you still and straight, not even curled, not pressed into the spot you needed and slowly, agonizingly, you feel the orgasm slip from your grasp. You didn’t time it correctly and you missed your chance. 

His voice slices through the air as easily as his blade would be able to do your skin, “Try it again. See what happens.” 

An invitation. You hesitate, obviously, fearful of hurting yourself. He pushes, “I mean it, if you want to cum that fucking badly you’d do it, hm? Trade a little bit of pain for some pleasure.” 

You make a sound of question that makes the thrusting into your mouth falter, he pulls out over halfway, just the head of his dick resting between your lips. He joins in, encouraging what the man threatening you between your legs, was suggesting, “Yeah, I want to see it, unless you want to wait for a cock in the other end of you-” He laughs as he slides back in fully, deeply, you gag and he pulls back out almost all the way, “-you aren’t cumming any other way. And you should see how cruel he can be, the stamina on him? He’d be content to fuck with you like that for hours.” 

Your eyes widen in disbelief, hours? He could and would edge you like this for hours? You had barely made it halfway to ten, no way could you make it through hours of that particular brand of torment. You whimper, partly from the situation, partly because those fingers inside your wet walls stir, slow, counterclockwise, stretching you, and you decide fuck it, you can’t hold out. You rock your hips, conveying your consent and they seem pleased by this, “Good. C’mon, put on a show like you did earlier in bed, yeah? Show us how bad you wanna get off.” 

The reminder of their voyeuristic tendencies makes your cunt clench again. 

The cock pulls out of your mouth and slaps your cheek wetly, “Hey, don’t forget about me.” He inserts himself back into your mouth, just the head, and you give a small nod. You lick and suck at the head of his cock as his gloved hand proceeds to slowly stroke his shaft. 

He praises you, “Good girl.” 

Hearing that in that voice? Christ, you wouldn’t take long. The fingers inside curl again, his thumb closer again, and you get to work. Your feet are up on the table, knees bent, you roll your hips, arch up and down, squirm and writhe, rubbing yourself to your hopeful end on his fingers, using gravity to help, pleasing yourself both inside and out. You are very, very aware of the knife, it is to your hip, over the bone, and you find with every movement, there is a small spike of fear, wondering if this will be the pass he presses it the few extra ounces of pressure needed to make that first cut. 

Suck, lick, tongue swirling around the tip, flick, gasp, moan appreciatively and closer and closer you get to the edge. “God, you are such a fucking slut, you just couldn’t get away fast enough before, so confident, wanting to run off down the beach for help and look at you now.”

He sounded a mix of joyful, condescending and mocking all in one, “I’m not doing a damn thing, this is all you, I mean Christ look at you! Slobbering all over my buddies dick and fucking yourself on my fingers.”

He exhales amused, “This isn’t even enough to deter you-”, he taps the knife on your hip and it makes your legs jerk, your cunt grasps at his fingers and he laughs, shocked and delighted, “Oh! See? I think it’s more than that, you actually fucking like it.”

You try to shake your head, try to protest that isn’t true but the one whose cock you are currently worshipping isn’t having it, he smacks your left breast, the pain is sharp, he pinches your nipple next and says harshly, “Get off that high horse of yours sweetheart, you are just as fucked as we are but don’t worry we like it!”

“Yeah, we do, we like to take good care of our toys.” He hums, you hadn’t stopped moving your hips, hadn’t stopped trying to satisfy yourself, your movements are getting sloppier, messier. “Oh, look at you, getting close again, hm?”

You nod, your mouth is uncoordinated, but he doesn’t seem to mind, in fact he is seemingly loving watching you losing your mind, stroking himself as you slurp at the head of his dick, his body language telling you his immense enjoyment.

So consumed with pleasure you had almost forgotten about the knife, as if he could sense this, he chose that moment to remind you. He pressed harder and the skin breaks, you cry out, eyes squeeze shut and your hips stutter, pausing midair, two slaps ring out, one on your chest again, the other on your inner thigh with the back of his hand before the knife is replaced over the fresh wound. You hiss at the rush of pain, “Show us you want it! Keep. Fucking. Going.” 

You did want it, you did want to cum, you needed it so badly, and his tone left no room for argument. You keep going, you rock with renewed vigor, his thumb is slipping over your clit, fingers pushing into that sweet spot again and again, as you move, you find yourself almost sawing the knife into your hip, the cut isn’t deep, but it is getting wider.

You can’t look, but you feel it, hot blood spilling out, running down over your hip, the curve of your ass, your inner thigh, gloved fingers pick some of it up in the process of your pursuit of pleasure, wet crimson adding to the sweat of your tense body, to the mess of your slick pouring from your cunt, creating the most obscenely erotic lube the pair had ever seen.

They knew they would both have to fuck you, bloodlust feeding into sexual lust, merging, twisting, combining.

The cock is pulled from between your lips, no longer stroking himself, he just wants to watch, wants to hear you. With your mouth unoccupied, it hangs open as you allow yourself to pant and moan through it, vocally express yourself. Even with the pain, it doesn’t hurt or hinder, no, it’s helping, the sharp stinging and burning cut of the blade assists and you are hanging on by a thread that is threatening to snap at any second. A quiet and breathless chant is leaving you, “Please, please, please, m’ so fucking close-”

“Nothing stopping you, certainly not us.” 

Your eyes flick down to the man currently two fingers deep, that mask’s hollow empty eyes are staring back at you makes your breath catch, one more, you know it, you think they both do, one more rise and fall of your hips, one more grind, one more cut, and you’ll be there. Your whole body is trembling with the effort, so fucking near you think you might go insane if he stops you from seeing it through again, “Do it.” 

He doesn’t need to tell you twice, hips fall, fingers press inward harder with him helping, thumb slips over your clit and the band inside snaps, your whole cunt spasms and you cum. A bleeding, sweating, shaking, gasping mess, you cum, walls like a vice around his fingers, throbbing and completely alive. You feel indescribably amazing, barely holding on, vision whiting out, you have no words, unable to begin to convey how strong your orgasm was. It’s the kind of climax that leaves you speechless, gun to your head, or knife to your throat, you don’t think you’d be able to adequately describe it in a way that would save your pathetic life. You are left feeling different afterwards, floating and ears ringing, body uncontrollable, from so tense, too loose as can be. 

When the pleasure did finally stop, when every bit of sensation had been wrung out of your body and you were lying flat back on the table, legs dangling once more, chest heaving, struggling to catch your breath.

It isn’t verbally communicated, or maybe it is, you aren’t sure, you are still kind of out of it, you register fingers slipping out, but not much else, your ears are still fucking ringing. You are repositioned, put on your stomach, one leg brought up, knee on the table, the robe flipped up, covering your still bound hands pressed into your lower back. You try to roll your wrists in their restrained state, and yup, just like you thought they’d be, totally asleep. Your cheek is to the table-top, eyes wanting to slip closed, your pussy and ass are totally exposed like this, hands spread you open and you hear a happy sigh, “Oh come look at this!” 

The other one walks around the table to join his friend, his thumb presses to the base of the anal plug you slipped in after your bath, “When did you get this inside yourself?” His tone sounded pleasantly surprised and very pleased.

“She’s a sneaky, filthy little thing. Didn’t I tell you?” The one whose cock you just had in your mouth pre-orgasm asked and the other responded, “You did, I swear I’ll never doubt you again, now go get the lube.” 

You hear him step away, the other continues to prod at the anal plug buried in your ass for a moment before his fingers hook around the base and he slowly starts to remove  it. You hiss slightly at the pull, you had lubed it very well, but that was a long while ago now, he pulls harder and it pops out with relative ease. Breathing a sigh of relief, you hear the heavy steel plug set on the table further down with a minor clank, as well as more footsteps, signalling the return of his friend. 

“Here you go.” 

“Thank you, so-” He takes the lube and you hear the click of the lid open as if for emphasis, “-she’s an admirable cocksucker, isn’t she?”

“Oh yeah, very good, she’s got a nice throat, can take a good pounding.” He sounded gleeful, a sound of agreement rings out before it’s added onto, “You were fucking into it pretty hard for a minute there.” 

So true, he gave it to you rough, your throat will feel a bit raw tomorrow for sure.

“But we still have two other holes to try out, and she was nice enough to start prepping one for us, it’d be rude not to take advantage. Hold her open for me.” 

You feel hands on your ass, spreading you open, and then feel the cold lube pouring down over your tightest hole and in short order, two fingers rubbing around the rim, spreading the cool slippery substance around. You remained relaxed, you weren’t a stranger to anal, you’d done some prep earlier, it wouldn’t take much to get you ready to go. 

“You have a preference?” One asks, and the other responds, “Who says we can’t try both?”

“Elaborate.” One finger begins to slide in, the material of the leather is smooth but still provides some drag, he sinks in to the last knuckle before pulling out, more lube is heaped on before reinserting. 

“Start in her cunt, get a good feel for it, then end in her ass, obviously.” It is said so easily, like it’s unbelievably simple.

“Sure, you are gonna be able to wait me out?” He teases and the other laughs, “Ha! Who says I have to? Once you are in the back, I’ll slide in the front. A whore like her? She can take a dick in each hole, no problem.”

“You are so right! Stupid of me to think otherwise. Too bad we don’t have a third friend for her mouth, could make her airtight.” That thought makes you shiver, fuck.

“Maybe something for the future.” He muses. 

The conversation turns quiet save for the occasional comment from them, or moan from you, as he continues to lube you up and finger your ass open, before you know it you have a second and a third finger buried in you, he was twisting and scissoring them, stretching you wider and wider until he deemed you ready to go. You were excited, very into this and leaking even more, you can’t help it, anal even after all this time, is a major turn on. You had been rocking back into him for a while, moving with him, encouraging him with your deepened breathing and pitched moans, biting your tongue to hold back your begging for more. 

His hands grip your hips and pulls you back towards him, you feel how sticky his fingers are with lube, you feel more alert, recovered from the monstrous orgasm you experienced earlier and ready for more. His hands lift momentarily to slick his cock up, you can hear the wetness of it, your fluttering stomach flat to the table, and his hands are back on you, gripping your hips tighter. You feel it, the hot velvety brush of his cock against you, bumping over your clit, he allows that for a moment, a few passes that makes your breath stutter. You feel next, a hand between you and him, gripping him, “Let me help.”

He assists in dragging the blunt and fat head up through your folds, spreading your ample wetness, adding on further to the slickness already coating him.

“Ready?” It's said quietly, so quietly you aren't sure if you are even meant to hear it, was it meant for you or for him? 

A small hum and a confirmation, asking low, “Stop teasing me.” 

“You're no fun.” It's said light, teasing, ignoring his friend's explicit ask, uttered in such a way it has you questioning just how deep their relationship goes, the true nature of it. 

“Shut up.” The response comes, fond, and with what sounds like a grin. 

He's lined up and he pushes forward, he fills you completely, the hand guiding his shaft into you falls away. You know who is who, now. The one who is buried balls deep in you is Billy, not a single doubt in your mind. The one who was in your mouth first, who threatened you with the knife, who spilled your blood, who edged you into oblivion, made you cum so hard you saw stars and spent ample time fingering your ass open and now was inside you, stretching the walls of your pussy so well, was Billy. He pauses, and Stu, you realize now, asks, “How does she feel?”

Billy sighs, “She's soaked-” He pulls out halfway before thrusting in again, “-and somehow so, so fucking tight.”

He began a slow rhythm, fucking you in earnest, his own breathing behind the mask picking up, that makes more heat flare inside,“You know something feels off.” 

He fucks harder, as if barrelling into your pussy with more strength will reveal the answer he is looking for. His hands are on you as he stills, they start to wander, feeling you, legs, ass, lower back before curling down and his fingers press over your hip and you cry out from him pressing so hard on the cut from earlier. “Oh, that’s what it is! She’s not bleeding anymore.” 

He sounds disappointed.

A beat before Stu responds, “We can fix that.” 

You hear the sound of the previously abandoned blade on the wooden table-top getting pulled up, that distinct schink sound as it is drawn up, “You just focus on fucking her.” 

He comes around the front of you, facing you, looking down and brandishing that knife, he gives a small wave with the steel as if to say, “Hi.” 

Even with his face covered with that mask, you are sure of the look on his face, the playful shit eating grin, eyes alight with mischief.

Billy starts fucking you once more, you moan helpless to resist, brows furrow as the haze of pleasure descends once more and Stu steps closer, the hand not holding the knife reaches down and he cradles your chin. His thumb traces your lips before pressing to your bottom lip, you can smell the leftover juices from when he was fingering you earlier still clinging to the leather. 

“Where should I cut you? Where should I cut you?” He is musing it as if to himself, you know he isn’t asking you. 

You have no say in this. 

He is humming, you can almost feel his eyes moving over your body, currently being rocked from the force of Billy’s thrusts. His hand moves, slips down your throat before tracing your collar bones and then going over your shoulder, strong fingers follow the line of your spine all the way up to the nape of your neck, to where your hair starts. He nods, small, nearly imperceptible and he brings the knife down. The cut isn’t deep, however it is quick, precise, he cuts slightly above where his fingers were pressing, you hiss and clench around Billy’s shaft, making him groan. Honestly, it’s a smart place. Your hair can hide any scar that comes from this easily, he presses harder, squeezes and makes more blood spill and it only has one place to go, down your back. It makes it look much worse than it actually is, the pain isn’t actually the bad, the pleasure is far outweighing it at. 

“How’s that?” Stu asks, and Billy responds easily, “Much fucking better.” 

Billy’s hand reaches up, his fingers smear the blood down your back, his hand lifts only to come back down hard, smacking right on your ass as his hips drive into you the hardest they have all night. Stu’s hand is cradling the back of your neck, pressing down on that wound in time with Billy’s thrusts and the chorus of moans it draws from you are pitched and loud, caught between heaven and hell, pain and pleasure. You inhale through your teeth, musing faintly how thankful you are that all the houses lining the beach are spaced so far apart, some of the moans they have you making would be cause for concern for nearly anyone who overheard your current lustful activities. 

Billy pulls you back as he fucks forward, he tugs you a bit closer, adjusts you slightly and you tense all over. Billy found that same spot he had been practically bullying earlier and you gasped, the pair shared a look over your taut body, shared acknowledgement that he'd locked onto it again. Billy didn't falter, he fucked harder all while staring at Stu, who's fingers were dragging down over your back, smudging and smearing more of your blood as your eyes go hazy and unfocused, consumed with feeling and the slow build of another orgasm.

You push back to meet him and in the process cause Stu to press on the still fresh wound, but just like earlier the pain falls more to the background. 

“Look at this brainless mess, she's on autopilot.” Stu laughed and Billy’s breathing sounds more strained as he asked, “Yeah? Looking cock drunk?”

“Not a thought behind her eyes, all she's focused on is cumming on your cock.” His fingers tangled in your hair near your scalp, he tugs, you wince and Stu asks, “Isn’t that right?” 

You are panting, a nod, the only concern is how your blood is singing, the feeling of intense fire under your skin and keeping this whole experience going, getting as much enjoyment from it as you possibly can. 

“Awe, you're speechless! Is his cock that good? That you have no words?” Considering how close he is already getting you just from his thick shaft splitting you wide and annihilating your cunt for a few short minutes? Yes, he is that good. 

“Not gonna lie-” Billy sighed, the sound again sounds so much better from behind that mask, you clench around him, he pauses briefly, grinding deeply into you before resuming fucking in and out, “-wouldn’t say I’m one for getting pussy drunk but fuck man-” He breaks off in a groan and picks up the pace just a little.

“-this feels fucking in-cred-ible, right?” 

You nod again, agreeing with him wholeheartedly, frantic and dumb as you creep closer to the edge, moaning wordlessly, your walls grasping desperately at his shaft telling on how fantastic this is feeling for you, and when you are roughly fifteen seconds from another brain breaking orgasm, Billy pulls out. You begin making sounds of protest, trying to get yourself together to string together some words to complain, but they are already hard at work again. 

“Help me move her.” Hands are on your biceps, pulling you up and you are being repositioned. You are struggling and putting up a bit of a fight again, they are working you into the configuration they want, you seriously wonder if they talked about it prior or if their non-verbal communication is that strong. Here is how it ends up.

Billy is sitting on the edge of the table, you are in his lap, legs spread wide and hooked over his strong thighs, his hands holding your upper arms so firmly you can't get away. Stu gets on his knees briefly to help Billy lube up extra before he assists lining him up again. You feel the slick tip pressed to your asshole and Stu rises, but his eyes stay locked on where you are about to be joined, he watches intently as the grip loosens and gravity aids in helping you impale yourself on Billy. 

Your hands clenched into fists, you groan as he bounces you up and down a few times, gritting out, “C'mon, open up-” until suddenly he slowly slips inside your tightest hole, once the head pops in he joins you, the mixing sound of pleasure from him and effort from you as you take more and more until at the halfway point he starts to bounce you more vigorously. 

“Was worried it might not fit.” Billy breathed out, and you laugh just as breathlessly, “Me too.”

He is thrusting into you very shallowly, making you take more in small increments as Stu is stroking himself to the picture you both made until finally, fucking finally, he is totally buried in you. 

He is merciful enough to let you take a moment to breathe and get accustomed to him fully inside your ass, but it is only a moment. His hands adjust slightly but remain on your arms, he tugs you up with them and buck his hips up from below to fuck up into you, causing you to choke out, “God-” 

It didn't feel bad at all, but it is an intense sensation, he is very girthy, thank God he put so much effort into the prep earlier or that’d be a different story. Stu could only watch Billy for a minute more before he needed to get in on the action, you had your lips on him far too long ago, he is dying to get inside you again. 

In short order Stu is stepping forward and with the combined height of the table and you on Billy's lap it makes your leaking pussy at the perfect level for him to fuck you too. One hand on your hip and he is nearly flush to you, Billy had stopped moving to allow Stu to get inside of you, and you are confronted with just how imposing they both are when you are in this position, pressed between them, white masks with hollow eyes watching your every move.

The hand that isn't on your hip grips the base of his shaft, the tip drags up through your drenched folds only once before he is nudging up against your grasping hole, his hips press forward with no small amount of force and he eases into you with a harsh inhale through his teeth. “Jesus fucking Christ.” 

Stu isn't quite as thick as Billy, but he is longer, which makes this position easier, to be honest the excess length is what makes this position possible, period. He manages to get about two thirds into you comfortably, his head tipping forward, his breathing laboured behind the mask as he starts to begin a rhythm in earnest. “You are so, soooo much tighter like this-”

The first thing said tonight that didn't fit the true narrative of the role play but no one complains, you are all rather lost in the weeds at the moment, consumed with lust and the only real God that mattered in this house, that of course being the moment, the now, worshipping at the altar of the flesh. 

“Can feel you so easily.” Stu huffs out to Billy, he grinds his hips, his shaft rubbing against Billy’s through the thin wall separating your two holes.

So you weren’t lying to Stu earlier, your stance on threesomes being very pro, especially after this experience, but the threesomes you engaged in were different; they were usually with another woman, another sugar baby or the partner of some client. Sure you’ve had things in both holes at the same time, however never anything as filling as this, nothing close to having a dick in both your pussy and ass at the same time. Now that Stu has a good handle on working himself in and out of your cunt, Billy starts moving again with a throaty groan, responding to Stu's earlier statement, “Can feel you too, man.”

You have never felt more full or more helpless, you couldn’t do much of anything, truly a pliant fuck doll pulled one way and another, pulled up and dropped back down, thrust and ground into. What bliss, having your holes stretched to the limit and lost in the feelings being forced on your body. 

The two men weren't so much as concerned with fucking in and out in that feverish and devastating way you were experiencing earlier, the kind where they pull out almost completely before slamming back in, the current action could be described as more of a firm grind. You quickly come to realize the rutting movements are just as much them seeking pleasure in each other as they are in you, gaining friction from each other as well as the gripping, well lubed and rippling walls of your holes.

The shared moaning and panting between the pair is getting louder, more intense, the dirty talk is fractured and not flowing in as elegant a manner, no full sentences, just short and degrading praise huffed out before breaking out. 

“-her holes are so fuckin’ hungry-” “-leakin’ like a faucet all over us-” “-just listen to her-” “-think she knows how loud she’s being?”

Shit, were you? Tuning in a bit more, you realize that yes you are moaning loudly and pathetically, helpless to stop it from how it all feels. Instead of feeling embarrassment or shame over this fact, you moan.

You aren't sure cumming from this is possible, it feels fucking incredible, but not necessarily in a way that could build towards an orgasm, it feels too overstimulating for that. Furthermore, you feel a strange mix of limp and tense as together they use you, mind blanking out with every jolt of overwhelming pleasure. You are more than aware this isn’t about you, this is about them, their mutual enjoyment, you are a prop for their fantasy and yet, you don’t feel objectified, or bothered, in fact, you find yourself loving every single moment. It feels good to be part of what they have, be privy to this level of closeness, it feels startlingly intimate. You had no idea how much more intimate it was about to get. 

Stu instigates it, his hand is off your hip and coming up, it pushes the bottom of his mask up, exposing the lower half of his face and he reaches out to do the same to Billy, he catches him off guard, you hear the question of, “What are you doi-”

Which is promptly cut off by Stu jerking forward over your shoulder, his mouth capturing Billy’s in a kiss, your eyes go wide as you look up and to the right to watch the frankly filthy looking tongue kiss the pair is engaged in. Billy doesn’t fight it, he moans into it and fucks into you harder. 

It doesn’t last much longer after that. 

Billy cums first, hips stuttering unevenly, choked sounds of pleasure expressed against Stu’s mouth, you think you can make out a curse or two, but you aren’t sure as he gives a few more shallow thrusts as he milks the last vestiges of his orgasm. You are seated fully in Billy’s lap as his chest heaves, slowly trying to recover, his currently still hard cock plugging your ass enough to keep the cum deep inside, something you sure would no longer be the case when he pulled out. 

Stu on the other hand was chasing his orgasm much more aggressively, now without having to try and contend with Billy’s movements he could fully focus on getting his. Stu’s hand is resting on the back of Billy’s neck, he had broken their kiss, lips an inch from his best friend’s, panting out as he ruts into you, “Fuck, fffuck, M’ so close-”

“Do it, come on, fill her up.” The encouragement seems to be what makes it happen, you feel him still, throbbing, the rush of warm as he shudders from the sheer force of how intense it feels. 

The come down takes a good minute, the only sounds are your collective harsh breathing, but when you all catch up they start to move. First things first, the masks come off, Stu face is revealed to you as he fully removes it, tossing it onto the table near the long discarded knife. He grins down at you, hair looking a little sweaty, cheeks a bit flush but eyes as playfully mischievous as ever, he says a soft, “Hey.”

You laugh softly, returning it, “Hey yourself.” Before you lean up and press a kiss to his lips, he returns it for a moment before you feel still gloved fingers trace your jaw, turning your head. Once he has and you are looking at him, you realize Billy had taken his own mask off, his smile has a soft but still smug quality to it as he also repeats the greeting before kissing you for the first time. 

You melt into it, the realization that Billy had fucked every hole you had, cut you, hurt you, caused you to bleed and cum all before you ever kissed running over your brain like liquid fire. Your body responds automatically, clenching on them both, twin small groans pulled from them both as you squeeze their slowly softening dicks still buried in you. The kiss breaks and Billy asks, “When was the last time you came?”

A small laugh as you admit with a shrug, “Just the once, earlier on your fingers.”

He tsks, “Shit, well that’s no good at all Stu, hmm?” Stu nods in agreement, “Not good at all.”

“What’re we gonna do about that?” He asks with a hum and Stu offers, “How about we get her cleaned up, get all the cum and blood off her and then get her off real slow, comfortably?”

Billy’s nose runs up the side of your neck and you sigh out at the feeling and the thought, being freshly clean and in soft bedsheets as they focus on you, devote themselves to getting you off again hard as fuck, “Sounds good.”

“Yeah? Then that’s what we will do, the least we can do to show our appreciation for how good you did tonight.” Stu kissed your forehead and you ask, “Mmm, yeah, I did good?”

“Oh my God, the best.” Billy gushed, he slowly pulled out of you, causing you to gush in turn, Stu pulled out too and the amount of cum that spilled forth was impressive. They finally untied your hands, you rolled your wrists and open and closed your hands, trying to will the feeling back into them, the robe was used to mop up the cum you leaked out onto the table and floor. The robe was caked in now dried blood, it looked totally wrecked, you doubt it could be cleaned but oh well, the sacrifices we make in the pursuit of kink and pleasure, some casualties are meant to be expected. 

You are way too unsteady on your legs to walk, they are constantly trembling, Stu was carrying you upstairs, Billy carrying the ruined robe, knife and masks as he trailed behind. 

Soon the bath was running, you were sitting in the tub as Billy and Stu got out of their costumes, the Ghostface garb was being stripped away and finally he asked the burning question, “So what did you think? Did it live up to the hype?”

Billy scoffed, a fond roll of his eyes, “Is that why you were so quiet on the way up here? Worried what I would say?” 

Stu brushed him off, “Pfft no. Obviously not.” 

He hummed unconvinced, finished taking off his boots he walked over to Stu who was still unlacing, leaning down he kissed him on the forehead and said, “Stu, it was so fucking amazing it makes me wonder why we waited so long.” 

Stu grinned and pushed his friend’s shoulder playfully, “Shut up, yes you do.” He glanced over his shoulder to you reclining in the tub, enjoying the hot water slowly filling the porcelain, relaxing in your now second bath of the night. He finally admitted that Billy was right, that they needed the right person to make this as good as it was, he admits this by saying simply, “We were waiting on her.”

[thecinemademon]

I made some ocs for @elmushterri 's The Knight's Handbook story. I'm low-key obsessed.

TW for Guns, Blood, Tobacco, Violence, and Strangulation

First off, Credence Gallo He/him. Born in 1878, Credence moved to New York at a young age and quickly became involved in mob life, especially after the "no booze" act was passed. He began helping his "family" with bootlegging. His real family never knew until his sister found out. Unfortunately, when she discovered his secret his boss was present! Both the boss and sister pulled guns on each other, forcing him to choose a side. He chose his boss, and was killed saving them from a deadly bullet from his sister. He hates who he was in life, and for a long time he didn't feel deserving of his role as a Knight. His weapon is a gun, and for a long while it takes the same form as the one that shot him.

Eunice Simon, they/them. They were born in 1968 and died at 15. They were an 80s kid! During the time their story takes place, I imagine that they only recently became a knight, and Credence is forced to take them under their wing. Their weapon is a comically large sword made of crystal, which is used more like a club. They died protecting a kid from some bullies. In the drawing they're getting choked to death, but I think in reality the killing blow would be an unfortunately placed kick to the neck. It took a long time for Eunice to accept that their death was an accident.

Big parent/child vibes from these two. Once Credence really accepts his role as a Knight, his gun changes form.

Eunice stops aging in their late 30s.

In the actual Knight's Handbook story, I imagine that they'd both side with Sidra. They both appreciate her spunk and energy and think that she'll make a great queen.

Finally, we have Tierney Shepard, or Tyr for short, He/They/It. He's based on the Norse God of War and is VERY old. This guy is from the Middle ages. He died at 36, defending his flock from a freakishly large wolf and losing his hand in the process. His weapon is a large scythe that resembles a Shepard's staff. He can form a magical hand to use the scythe. The hand can only touch the scythe, it's useless for anything else. Other than regular Knight powers, they also have the ability to talk to animals most notably sheep, which are easiest for him to understand. Because of how freaking old he is, he has an awakened form, which is on the right. He doesn't use it often as it's very draining to use. It also has the epithet: The Shepard Knight (very creative, I know). Tyr will probably side with Jules or remain neutral. He thinks that Sidra is too headstrong, and the Jules is too bitter. He's not a fan of dogs.

[dragonanon]

Y’all I need Jesus 😭 My mind is running wild with an idea that’s a bit of Hellaverse and One Piece crossover.

——

As a succubus working under Asmodeus, your job is to basically portal up to the human world and spread lust amongst the humans. You’re damn good at your job as evidenced by the fact that your numbers always exceed the minimum quota you’re given, so as one of the top employees you have the privilege of getting to be much closer with Asmodeus and Fizzaroli than most other demons working for them; they’re honestly more like father figures to you rather than your superiors, and you welcome being their lowkey unofficially adopted daughter.

Between your excellent work performance and the love and support of your unofficial dads, life is pretty damn easy and straightforward for you…until it isn’t.

You don’t know how the hell it happened, you had been in human disguise on Earth and drumming up some nice lust in a small village, literally just doing you job as normal. Your markvictim, a slim blond with facial hair, had been one of the EASIEST people to ensnare in a long time. You barely had to say “hello” before the man already had hearts in his eyes and was practically falling at your feet, and when you invited him to go someplace private for a bit of “fun”, he damn near died on the spot due to blood loss from a massive nosebleed. Needless to say, you quickly had him in bed and oozing with yummy lust for you.

From there it all happened so fast(let’s be real here, it was probably Luffy’s fault lol), one thing led to another and after a series of shenanigans, your true form and identity are revealed to a group of humans, a group of pirates to be exact…Sure you knew that taking such an easy target would have SOME consequence, but fuck man!

Now standing before the “straw hat pirates”, as they call themselves, in your true demonic form with horns, wings, and tail all out for the whole world to see, you’re stared at in a cocktail mixture of awe, fear, and curiosity by all these humans. With the uncomfortable silence hanging in the air, you feel more naked and vulnerable than you ever have been in your entire life. And as a succubus, that’s saying quite a lot!

You’re in quite the predicament here, and your fear only grows as you realize just how completely and utterly fucked you are here. You can’t just fuck off back to Hell when there’s a whole gaggle of humans running around that now knows about the existence of Demons and Hell, but you can’t exactly kill any of them either. Not just because you’re SEVERELY outnumbered, but you’d ALSO get into some pretty deep shit with your dads.

So that leaves you with one option, offer a deal and hope to Lucifer that they accept. With that plan in mind, a green haired man you’d later come to know as “Zoro”, FINALLY breaks the agonizing silence with a simple question; “What the fuck are you?” and with that, you get to work setting this admittedly ridiculous plan into motion.

As calmly as you can, you explain that you’re a succubus; a demon from Hell just here to do her job of getting people to be horny on main. From there, you explain the predicament you’re all in right now, how you can’t just leave them to their devices because they all know, and have seen too much now. They all seem to tense for a moment as one of them, a man with a long nose who you’d later know as “Usopp”, asks in a shaky voice if you’re going to kill them now. They all breathe a sigh of relief and Usopp actually sobs when you clarify that no, that’s not happening. “I couldn’t kill you all even if I wanted to. Not only do you have me completely outnumbered, but even if I did succeed somehow, it would land me in MAJOR hot water with my bosses. So yeah, I’m not doing that.”

A red headed woman who later introduced herself as “Nami”, responds by asking what it is you plan to do then. This whole time, you’ve noticed that she’s been eyeing the hell out of your Asmodean crystal; a huge magenta jewel set in the center of a beautiful golden cuff that encases nearly half of your left forearm. It was a gift from Asmodeus himself on your first day of work, and it hasn’t left your arm since. You know damn well what the glint of greed in one’s eyes looks like, and you’re all too happy to use that to your advantage.

“Well, given that I can’t leave you all alone and death isn’t an option, I’d like to make a proposal; You all keep your mouths shut about what you’ve seen and learned, and let me continue my work as needed and in peace. You’re not to utter even a peep to another soul not already in this room. In exchange…You’ll have a succubus eternally at your service~”

This prompts the captain who you’ve been told is named “Luffy”, an admittedly boyishly cute man in your humble opinion, to speak up and ask what exactly you mean. Up to this point, he’d just been staring at you in slack jawed awe, but your proposal seemed to bring him back to reality and now he had to sate his growing curiosity and excitement.

A playful smirk paints itself on your black lips as you begin to elaborate, your fangs poking out ever so slightly as you speak. “Well hon, being a succubus, I have MANY powers at my disposal~ You’ve already seen that I can disguise myself as one of you humans, AND charm my way into getting whatever I want from humans. But that’s BARELY scratching the surface of what I’m capable of~ For starters, I can change my disguise as I see fit, what you all saw was just one of the millions of different appearances I can take.” To back up this claim, you quickly cycle through a few different human disguises you’ve used throughout the years; completely changing your form into at least 12 completely different women of all different shapes, sizes, and races. With your point having been made, you shift back to your Demon form and continue.

“That combined with my charming powers means I can EASILY spy and obtain any information you want~ But more than that, I can INSTANTLY take you anywhere you could possibly want.”

That last bit seemed to really pique everyone’s interest, especially Luffy’s; his eyes sparkled with curiosity and excitement as he asked you how that was possible.

“Time to make the hard sale here.” You think to yourself. With a smile, you raise your left arm and with a flourish of your right hand, show off your Asmodean crystal. You have to bite back a laugh as Luffy audibly “oohs” and “ahhs” at the glowing magenta stone while Nami practically salivates over it.

“With this lovely thing right here~ This bad boy is an Asmodean crystal; a mystical jewel bestowed upon me as a succubus working for Asmodeus. With it, I can open a direct portal to ANYWHERE in Hell AND the Human world~”

Zoro is quick to call bullshit, but you’re more than willing to prove otherwise as you respond by asking for a destination, anywhere in the entire world. The green haired man huffs in amusement, and sarcastically suggests an island clear on the other side of the world.

Smirking, you hold your crystal clad arm up close you and with quick, firm, rub of your right hand, the crystal glows brightly and suddenly shoots out a bright beam of light that stops just shy of hitting the wall before a large, diamond shaped portal appears. The edges of the portal glow brightly and the aforementioned island is now CLEARLY visible to everyone in the room.

With a shit eating grin, you strut up to Zoro, who seems bewildered by what he’s seeing as gets up close to check out the portal. With a giggle, you give him a hearty shove, causing him to fall through with a shout and you hop through after him, completely ignoring the concerned shouts of the remaining crew as the portal snaps shut behind you, blinking out of existence like it was never there to begin with.

The room devolves into chaos, with Luffy whining about how it’s not fair that he didn’t get to go too, while Nami yells at him for not being more concerned about Zoro just disappearing.

After a few minutes, the portal reappears with a flash, and out of it hops you followed closely by a noticeably paler Zoro, much to Sanji’s disappointment. The portal disappears again whilst Zoro goes to sit down, and just says “She’s not fucking joking, she really CAN go anywhere.”

The room erupts into chaos again, this time however, Luffy is practically on top of you, demanding you join his crew right now.

You’re a bit taken aback, you’d expected you’d have to list at least a LITTLE more of what you’re capable of to win them over, but this was not an unwelcome surprise in the slightest.

“Are you sure you’re willing to accept my proposition so quickly? I haven’t even finished telling you what all I can-“

Luffy interrupts you before you can finish your sentence saying that there’d be plenty of time for you to talk about your powers later, right now he just wants to start teleporting to different places.

You smile, fangs on full display. “Guess it’s a deal then~ It’ll be a pleasure working with y-“

You’re cut off again, this time by Luffy stretching his limbs around you in a tight hug whilst rambling about all the different places he wants to go right now.

As you’re stood in the middle of everyone buzzing with excitement and curiosity, all you can think to yourself is “What in the Seven Rings have I gotten myself into??”

[richea]

Tales of Hearts Worldbuilding

There's a lot of worldbuilding in Hearts that's either very obscure within its game, blatantly wasn't explained in it at all, and in a number of cases, was in DS and removed from R.

I skimmed the glossary from its guidebook and jotted down some interesting details from it that people might not know about the game. This isn't a full study on Hearts' worldbuilding, as this is only information borrowed from that specific book, and I only included things that I think people would be interested in knowing about. This excludes really obvious information that everyone probably knows or is easily found in a casual Hearts playthrough (though I did include some of it), and random pointless things like the fact that there's sheep in Layve who produce tea milk. (That stuff is fun too, but this post took me long enough to put together!)

Also, this post uses my own preferred romanizations for everything, as we can all agree that the localization was a huge mess.

If you enjoy this post and want more random Hearts trivia, check out Aera's old post too!

Characters

Side character ages: Creed (20), Fluora (21), Incarose (19), Seraph Bros (25), Corundum (10), Grossular (50), Kornerupine (44), Striegov (37), Zirconia (61), Byrox (22), Paraiba (20), Labrador (39). (Peridot is also 19.)

Shing is the youngest in the playable party at only 16. (In R he’s the youngest tied with Chalcedony)

Kohaku has such a strong, natural affinity for hugging people that this feeling was embedded in her even when she lost her emotions and ability to talk. She also gained her fear of heights from falling out a window once.

Lithia told Kohaku and Hisui to leave Norqueen “to find the Forest of Thorns”.

Kohaku and Hisui’s dad is dead. He died when Hisui was “very young” like Iola did.

Hisui can’t swim due to his upbringing in a snowy region.

Kunzite was injured in a fight with Incarose 170 years prior to the story, and then was held by the imperial army. This is the state the party meets him in. In order to reboot him, Lithia passed along this chant to Kohaku to recite: “Shape of man cast from iron’s true flame. With a solid bronze soul, and pure mercury veins. Swear on Quartz’s white moonlight, that you shall be our shield, and our sword, and our might. Platinum heart etched with a Quartz name, run so as to give life to your metal frame.”

Incarose was named by Creed after her eyes. She has 7 bodies in total but by the time Creed gets his body back she’s down to 4.

The person who made Corundum and the Seraph Bros was a famous Quartz named Eusite. Despite his genius, a lot of his mechanoids had varying defects (like Chlorseraph does) and they were scrapped a lot.

When the Seraph Bros were installed with their synthetic Spirias, they had a defect that made them assault everything around them. They were going to be disposed of but Fluora took them under her wing and made them her knights. This is why Clinoseraph feels such strong loyalty to her.

Fluora named the Seraph Bros after a famous bird known as the seraph.

Iola used to be of the Velleia faith. The details of her death are that after being injured by Creed, she fled to the land that would later be known as Norqueen, made the barrier around the area, gave birth to Kohaku, and then died shortly after. Her sister Sheila is actually the one who named (and subsequently raised) Kohaku, after the Kohakuzakura tree.

Sheila was a follower of the old Velleian teachings, but Arkham labeled her and others who follow it a heretic and denounced them when forming his “new” Velleia teachings. Due to this Sheila blames him and the church for Iola’s death and distrusts the Crystal Knights. Despite her harsh attitude in the story and as chief, she’s actually quite a nice woman who cherishes Kohaku and Hisui, and every year she treats the villagers to handmade sakura mochi.

Dona lost her emotions from the strain of transferring Creed to Shing, was brought to Seable by Zektz, and then died at some point during Shing’s early childhood. The villagers remembered her for being a quaint, kind woman but before she lost her emotions, she was very rowdy and crude, to the point that Iola once scoffed about her attitude in front of Zektz. Nobody knew who Shing’s father was, but Zektz suspected that he was a man who was likeminded to Dona and dedicated to a life of battle.

Silver was only 29 years old despite his grey hair and his high military rank. A lot of his actions (and role as Garnet) can be explained by his hatred of the military, after they forced him to have his wife and daughter present for a military Will Cannon experiment that took Pearl's life.

Despite Silver’s military ranking, Pearl was a very ordinary woman who was family-oriented.

Lapis was in a coma for 3 years.

Arago looks out for Helio “as if his own family” whenever Beryl leaves her alone in Blanche.

Helio was a famous nurse in her youth. (She doesn’t have an entry in the guides; this info is taken from an unnamed NPC text in game and felt like a shame not to include.)

The reason Chen had his eye on Beryl is that he actually used to paint himself, but he gave up on his dream and tried to support hers instead.

Sango’s unmarried and Chen has tried 99 times to get her a man to marry, but she’s just uninterested. She also can’t sleep without hugging a plushie despite her strong personality.

Ecaille was brought in to Chen by his daughter Sango. Despite choosing to stay as Chen’s secretary after getting her memories back, she does accept Ameth’s proposal.

The first emperor of the Max Empire was named Chrosite de Rais. He also sponsored the coliseum and reigned as champion for a decade, from the 1st to the 10th. The name Lion Grand Prix later came from the lion crest that was affixed to him.

Diamante is the name of the philosopher who defined what a Spiria is.

Tetsu Hagane tells the tale of his three sins: the Sin of Love (making women in his family cry by being mean to them), the Sin of Grief (making his "blood brother" sad by accidentally leaving the window open and a cat eating his pet goldfish), and the Sin of Power (flaunting his strength by telling the tale of him taking down a xerom despite not being a Somatic).

Species

Powerhogs (the pigs you can find in Shing's hometown) are a medium-sized variety of rappig (popularly known from Abyss). They're kept as pets but the adult males are known to be as ferocious as monsters.

The eloi are a species that lives on an island north of Marquise. They have strong vitality and powerful Spiria. Thanks to the proto xerom Lisia, who wanted to exploit those Spiria, they're almost extinct.

Windum is an eloi who considers himself an "intellectually, culturally advanced species" of eloi. His favorite food is mabo curry. He develops the Sorcerer's Ring for the party and tasks the party with taking down Lisia and saving his brethren.

Quartzia had “mocking things” as pets. They were loyal to their masters and could breathe fire. This is a reference to Mieu from Abyss. This is one of three Abyss mascot references in the game (along with Barrelow as “Bellow” in this game, and Tokunaga.)

The DS version has a variety of monster known literally as “shadows monsters”. These are clumps of black mass that personify as monsters (birds, wolves, blobs, etc.). They’re an “embodiment of fear”. They’re similar to xerom but differ in that they vanish once their feeling of fear disappears. (As a gameplay mechanic, these are what the overworld enemies in the game are.)

Lore

Asteria (Shing’s Soma) has the same name as a flower that Lithia, Creed and Fluora planted on Quartzia, which was said to represent the bonds between people. The name means “shining star”.

Kunzite’s Soma, Vex, has the meaning of “knight of antiquity” in the ancient language. There’s a fairy tale written about it called the “Four-Armed Beast”.

The "Forest of Thorns" project was proposed by Fluora, but was mocked by other Quartz for the fact that Soma Links were never formed despite how many experiments she ran. (This is why Lithia is so in awe of the party's ability to Soma Link throughout the story.)

The Quartz knew about Volgajoz, the dragon that lives in Bamel Volcano.

Gardenia spans over 5,000km. The reason it went out of control is because its synthetic Spiria, which was based on Creed's, craved loved and absorbed everything around it instead of just the feelings of strife and war that it was intended to.

Mechanoids were made by the Quartz as their servants. They helped them in their daily lives, doing menial tasks, to researching, to protecting them; anything the Quartz could think of. Some of them were affixed with synthetic Spiria (like Kunzite) though only the special ones (likes ones intended to be personal bodyguards for special people), as most of them are just regular androids. Jacks help with daily tasks such as cooking and cleaning, Queens excel in Will Artes, Kings are non-humanoid, Jokers excel in research skills and Aces excel in combat. Kunzite is a Jack and in fact was not really intended for combat but was instead made to cook and clean, like many of his skits touch upon. (There's a sub event where he says he's actually tired of having to fight and the only reason he continues is because he wants to protect Lithia.)

Synthetic Spirias are not easy to manufacture and are only able to be installed on high-specs mechas. They're intended to give robots human-like capabilities. Mechas with synthetic Spiria are not actually intended to be able to use Soma and it's considered an abnormality that a lowly Jack type mecha like Kunzite is able to use one.

It's not just the people who were calcified on Quartzia but all remnants of life, period.

Spirmazes reflect the state of the person. If someone's life or emotional strength is running out, it'll get smaller. If it disappears entirely, this means they're dead. (In DS, there were different maps for Spirmazes which reflected the mood of the owner, instead of R's one uniform design. They also had a BGM associated with them, Sadness, Anger and Happiness respectively.)

Somas are useable by anyone, but Spirlinking itself is a grueling task, and if someone not fit to do one attempts one, they'll get ejected immediately.

The Quartz used to rule over the people of Celland, in part because their Spirias had a lot more "vitality" to them, so the Quartz wanted to exploit this.

Xerom are actually Will Arte weapons developed by the Quartz. Their intent was to absorb the Spiria of the people of Celland, which in turn would develop the xerom further. Lithia sealed them away once but as her power weakened over time, they were resurrected.

Soma were originally intended to link people's hearts together, but Fluora didn't have time to finish developing them before the Gardenia incident, so when Celland got its hands on them, they ended up finding use as weapons more than medical instruments during the Unification War.

There's a very limited edition doll called the DX Mega Tokunaga. There's only 30 in existence and Kohaku has one. Sango missed her chance to get one so she begs Kohaku to let her hold it at least once.

The incident with Zirconia (possessed by Creed) being fought off by Dona, Zektz, Tekta, Iola and Labrador is called "The Tragedy of Pransule Strait".

Norqueen was formed only 17 years prior to the story (which lines up with Kohaku's birth) as a safe haven for followers of Lithia's faith, after Arkham labeled them all heretics.

Followers of the Velleia faith are called "dolphins," as their sacred beast is the Winged Whale.

The Max Empire was restored to glory by Chrosite, first as a small country on Oldmine, and then during the Unification War, ruling over all of Celland.

[vir-tanadahl]

The Wolf's True Path

Summary: This short tale captures a rare moment of peace between Solas and Lavellan as Solas reflects on his past before his journey of redemption continues.

The fourth installment of what was a three part series.

The Burden of the Dread Wolf

A Wolf's Atonement

The Wolf's Return to Wisdom

From a short distance, Solas gazes at Lavellan with eyes filled with admiration and longing. His path of atonement has been long and arduous, but now, as if in recognition of his efforts, the Fade has granted him a moment of respite. The once bleak and desolate prison that he had crafted to hold the powerful Evanuris shifts around him, transforming into a peaceful sanctuary. The shadows recede, revealing a space bathed in gentle warmth and untouched by regret. Solas takes in a deep breath, savoring the freedom and peace that surrounds him, if only for a brief respite from his troubled journey.

As Solas exhales, he feels the weight of centuries lifting from his shoulders. The air shimmers with ethereal light, and he can almost taste the sweetness of possibility on his tongue. Lavellan turns, her eyes meeting his across the tranquil expanse, and for a heartbeat, time seems to stand still. He takes a tentative step forward, his bare feet sinking into soft grass that wasn't there a moment before. Flowers bloom in his wake, their delicate petals unfurling in a sea of color. The scent of elfroot and crystal grace fills the air, reminding him of long-forgotten forests and ancient magic.

This path of atonement forces him to confront each of his regrets, including the one that set him on this course—it all began with Mythal. He had once been a Spirit of Wisdom, content in the boundless realms of the Fade. But at Mythal's behest, he took on elven form, crossing into the physical world, not out of personal desire, but because she had asked for his aid. He admired her, revered her, and in his devotion, he heeded her call, stepping into a reality he had never intended to touch.

He committed terrible acts at Mythal's behest, driven by his reverence for her and the belief that they fought for freedom. But everything changed when Mythal and the other Evanuris began to claim themselves as gods, a path he could not follow. Elgar’nan assured him they would relinquish their commands once the war with the titans was over, arguing that the elven people needed guidance and that leadership was necessary. Mythal wanted to help the people rebuild and unite, to bring them under a single banner.

But the idea sickened him. They hadn’t fought for freedom, the very reason he had crossed into the physical world, the reason he had committed such atrocities in her name. No, they fought for conquest and control, to rule this world and their people. And in that realization, he saw the truth of his reverence—and the depths of his betrayal. But…even then, he had hoped Mythal would come to see reason, yet she never did and he failed to save her after he told her that the other Evanuris were attempting to access the blighted magic they had sealed away.

The memory of the day he asked Mythal to meet him was comes forth in his mind. He had been nervous and unsure if she would meet him. As she walked towards him with a guarded expression, he couldn't help but feel relieved that she had actually shown up. "You are the one who walked away," she said, her words cutting through him like a knife. Then she surprised him by saying, "I never turn my back when my friend needs me." The accusation that he had abandoned her stung, as it suggested that he hadn't been there for her when she needed him the most.

It was after this meeting that Mythal confronted the other Evanuris, challenging their attempts to harness the dangerous magic of the Blight. It was then that they betrayed her, these so-called gods who had once stood beside her. And because he had turned away, because he had abandoned her when she needed him most, she was left to face them alone. She died as a result of that betrayal—a loss that set into motion that would change the course of the world he once knew.

The echoes of Mythal's essence resound softly in his thoughts, reminiscent of a bittersweet memory: “I pulled you from the Fade you loved and sent you into war. I used your wisdom as a weapon… and it broke you.” It was in that moment, he received a validation he didn't realize he needed - an acknowledgement that Mythal had played a significant role in shaping his path, guiding his choices. Though he willingly followed her call, it was a decision influenced by her goals, her perspective.

Solas watches as Lavellan moves through the newly formed space—a forest reminiscent of Arlathan in its prime, lush and overall untouched. She wanders among the vibrant foliage, her fingers brushing over the leaves and flowers with quiet wonder. Her eyes are filled with awe as she inspects the rich flora around her, marveling at how the Fade could create something so vividly real, so tangible.

His mind drifts back to when they first met, to the moment she approached him after they had sealed the Breach in Haven. By then, he already knew he couldn’t reveal that he was Fen’Harel; he’d learned that lesson bitterly. When he had first awakened in this changed world, he’d sought out a Dalish clan, hoping to learn more about what happened with the People. But the encounter had been disastrous, leaving him disillusioned and wary, the weight of his identity a secret he felt compelled to bury.

He had resigned himself to hiding his true identity as Fen’Harel, instead seeking to reconnect with the part of himself that existed before he became the Dread Wolf. It was unexpectedly refreshing to be seen as just Solas—to be treated like the person he was before the weight of his mantle shaped and hardened him. With her, he felt a rare freedom to rediscover that forgotten self, unburdened by ancient titles and expectations.

Lavellan surprised him when she challenged his contempt for the Dalish, refusing to rise to anger even as he dismissed their preservation of elven culture as mere shadows of the past, inaccurate and diluted. Instead of meeting his frustration with hostility, she responded with grace and quiet conviction, pointing out the value in their resilience and the strength required to hold onto their identity, however fragmented. Her response humbled him in a way he hadn’t expected, disarming him with a kindness and understanding that lingered long after their conversation ended.

And she was curious—about him. She listened with genuine interest to his tales of dreaming in the Fade, her eyes bright with intrigue. She hung onto his every word, even though some of the stories he shared were memories he had lived directly. Her curiosity was sincere, unguarded, making him feel seen in a way he hadn’t in ages.

She was inquisitive, not only willing to listen showed a willingness to be open to new information that challenged her current belief. Her interest spanned everything he held close to his heart—the ancient elves, magic, the Veil, demons, and spirits. She even surprised him with questions he hadn’t expected, like whether coexistence with spirits and demons was truly possible, a means to prevent conflict rather than provoke it. She sought his wisdom with a sincerity that stirred something deep within him, pulling him back to a place of longing and nostalgia.

The memory plays vividly in his mind. She had looked up at him with bright, flirtatious eyes, her expression open and genuine as she spoke of how much she enjoyed getting to know him. It had been centuries since anyone had shown such honest interest in him, free of ulterior motives.

He had been guardedly curious, tempered by his instinct to keep others at a distance. But there was something about her warmth, the ease of her laughter, especially when she playfully turned his own words back on him. The memory sharpens at the moment she gently teased him about an evasive answer, stirring in him a forgotten sense of playfulness—a feeling that had lain dormant for ages.

Solas remembers the mix of pleasure and unease, realizing even then how effortlessly she had pierced his defenses in that brief exchange. Even now, the memory makes his heart quicken. Lavellan’s kindness and humor had drawn him in, making him acutely aware of his own loneliness, a longing he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in a very long time.

Reflecting on that moment now, he realizes that she had, unintentionally, planted a seed within his heart. Without harshness or force, she had gently challenged him to confront his assumptions about this new world, unsettling the certainty he’d held so tightly. The experience was both enticing and terrifying, as he had long resigned himself to solitude. Yet, with just a few simple words, Lavellan became startlingly real to him, revealing a connection he hadn’t felt in ages—a kinship that was achingly tempting, stirring in him a desire for companionship he thought he had buried forever.

After that... he simply couldn’t help himself. Another memory surfaces, vivid and intoxicating, as he recalls the way she had held his gaze, brimming with confidence, curiosity, and a playful spark. His heart quickens now at the thought of his reply, deliberately smooth as he suggested he had “yet to see it dominated.” Her eyes danced as she echoed his words back to him, teasingly: “Indomitable focus?” Her voice lingered in his mind, a gentle, teasing challenge that made him want to respond with wit and depth.

“Presumably. I have yet to see it dominated. I imagine that the sight would be… fascinating.” It had been an invitation, subtle yet unmistakable, for both of them to imagine what it might be like to lower their defenses. He found himself drawn irresistibly to the spark of her spirit and intelligence, feeling his own walls weaken as he acknowledged the magnetic tension between them—a connection he could neither deny nor easily resist.

Her kindness and grace, even in the face of opposition, were nothing short of remarkable. She had been captured by Seeker Cassandra, imprisoned, and falsely accused of causing a disaster he himself had brought upon the world. Yet, even amidst the chaos unleashed by his own reckless actions, she stood strong, resilient in her innocence. Her ability to remain steadfast and compassionate despite it all left him in quiet awe.

His memory flashes to them dream-walking in the Fade, where he had taken her back to Haven after its destruction. He’d shared his frustration and confusion, his attempts to save her, and the worry that gnawed at him—a worry that, even then, hinted at something deeper. She had, undeniably, changed his world.

Solas closes his eyes, resting the back of his head against the rough bark of a tree, letting himself drift into the memory of her warmth as she dared to bridge the space between them. Her kiss was a soft yet daring act, a gesture that left him feeling both vulnerable and intensely alive. He savors the lingering sensation of her touch, the softness of her lips, and the way his own restraint shattered as he pulled her back not once, but twice, unable to let her go. But it was that second kiss, that moment of surrender, when he truly lost himself in her—giving in to a desire he’d tried so hard to deny.

As his mind wanders further down the path of this memory, he comes to a realization that Lavellan had not only held the key to saving the world at the time, but also to saving himself. The mere thought of her sends a warm rush of comfort through him, like a blanket on a cold winter night. In that moment, Solas understands the true depth of her impact on his life and how she single-handedly changed his destiny for the better. Her presence was not just a means to an end, but a source of hope and healing for his soul.

Solas opens his eyes again, scanning the horizon for her. Lavellan's figure emerges from behind a cluster of shimmering trees, their leaves rustling softly in a nonexistent breeze. She moves with grace, her steps light and purposeful as she navigates the ethereal landscape. Her eyes, filled with wonder, dart from one marvel to another, drinking in the beauty of this Fade-crafted vision of the ancient Arlathan Forest.

As she approaches, Solas feels a familiar tightness in his chest, a bittersweet ache that has become his constant companion, mingling with a profound, unyielding love. He watches her, drinking in every detail - the way the ethereal light catches in her hair, the gentle curve of her smile, the spark of curiosity that never seems to dim in her eyes.

The name slips from her lips like a caress, carrying with it a warmth that seems to weave its way through his mind. "Solas," she calls out, her voice filled with awe and admiration. "This place... it's incredible." A small smile plays at the corners of his lips as he looks upon her. "Arlathan Forest is quite beautiful," he responds softly, taking her hand and pulling himself to his feet. As he steps closer to her, one hand lands on her waist and he leans down to kiss her. Lavellan tilts her head up and meets his lips, savoring the taste of him.

With a bright smile on her face, Lavellan exclaims, "Let's go look at the river!" Her excitement is infectious and Solas can't help but chuckle as she practically dances in place. “It is a river,” He remarks, but his own lips curl into a smile at her enthusiasm.

She gazes up at him, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “But it’s a Fade river!” she exclaims, her laughter echoing through the air as she eagerly takes his hand and pulls him along. He joins in her amusement, a genuine chuckle escaping his lips, his guard completely down in her presence. “That is it,” he responds, unable to hide the smile that spreads across his face as he allows her to lead him, her infectious enthusiasm captivating him and drawing him into the moment. He finds himself charmed by her unbridled joy and unwavering curiosity, feeling alive and free in her company.

As they near the riverbank, the soothing sound of rushing water envelops them. Lavellan's face beams with joy, and Solas can't help but feel his own mood brighten in response to her infectious happiness. She takes off ahead of him, eagerly examining the river and its inhabitants in hushed fascination.

Solas finds a comfortable spot and settles in, observing Lavellan as she discovers the wonders of the Fade with childlike wonder. He can't help but smile at her, reminiscing about their time together in the Inquisition. He remembers when he first approached her for assistance with a troubled friend, and how she had instantly shown her unwavering empathy and support without hesitation. Even back then, she saw past his guarded facade and understood the gravity of what he had asked of her.

The memory of his first encounter with his friend floods back to him. He remembers seeing his friend—a Spirit of Wisdom, now twisted and corrupted into a Pride Demon by the foolishness of mages. It was a heart-wrenching and alarming sight. Despite everything, he held onto a fragile hope that there was still a chance to save his friend, that somehow it could be restored to its original form.

Lavellan had acted without hesitation in aiding him, going above and beyond what was necessary. She had even gone as far as to disrupt the summoning circle in an effort to save his friend, despite the complexity of the task. Her selflessness and determination to fight for a corrupted spirit left a lasting impression on him, stirring something within him that he couldn't quite explain.

He remembers, painfully, how he had failed his friend even then. They had confronted the mages responsible, his anger simmering as he accused them of torturing and destroying a being of wisdom—a friend who had been twisted and killed by their reckless ambition. The rage within him was overwhelming; he would have struck them down, consumed by anger and the need for revenge, if Lavellan hadn’t intervened.

The memories of his failure still pained him. He and his friend had confronted the mages responsible, and he couldn't contain his anger as he accused them of torturing and destroying a wise being. His friend was killed due to their carelessness, and he seethed with rage towards them. He wanted revenge; he wanted to strike them down. But Lavellan stepped in, preventing him from acting on his anger.

In a vital moment, her voice reached out to him like an anchor, soothing and steady. With gentle yet firm words, she brought him back to reality and reminded him that seeking revenge on the mages would not bring his friend back. Her words cut through the storm of his anger and quenched the flames burning within him, guiding him away from the brink. He can't help but wonder, if he had acted on his initial impulse that day, would it have added yet another weight to the regrets burdening his soul?

Lavellan wades into the water, her legs kicking with awe and surprise. "It's like it's really here!" She exclaims to Solas, her disbelief evident in her tone. He tilts his head slightly, a smile playing on his lips. "Because it is real," he chuckles. "You know what I mean," Lavellan laughs. "I know we’ve talked about how what happens in the Fade is real, but I just didn’t expect it to…actually feel so real!"

Solas chuckles at her enthusiasm. "It is certainly new," he concedes, a small smile playing on his lips. "To be completely aware in the Fade is vastly different from only experiencing it through dreams." Lavellan laughs as she nods in agreement, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "I couldn't agree more," she says. "This is much better than our time at Adamant." Solas shares a nod of affirmation, adding, "Indeed it is."

As Lavellan wanders and explores, Solas shuts his eyes and allows himself to drift back to those intimate moments he shared with her within the Inquisition, not long after they had faced the truth about his friend. He recalls seeking her out one evening, finding her on the balcony outside her chambers. The night was calm and serene, and in the gentle radiance of starlight, he posed a question that had been weighing heavily on his mind.

He inquired, his voice gentle but filled with curiosity, "What were you like before the Anchor?" He pondered if the Mark had changed her essence in any way, if there was a reason other than his own fondness for why he felt such a strong connection to her. Maybe he was searching for a justification that would make sense of his intense emotions - something that went beyond his heart's desires.

When she confessed that she had not changed, he felt a twinge of disappointment. It finally dawned on him that his feelings for her were no longer just curiosity; they were deep and real. He had always seen this world as dull and lifeless, like walking among the Tranquil. But being with her, someone who radiated such genuine beauty and individuality, challenged his entire perception. She was more than just an exception; she was proof that there was still vibrancy, complexity, and depth in this world. And it made him uneasy in a way he didn't want to admit.

Naturally, she was curious for him to explain his fascination, and he admitted her subtlety and wisdom defied his expectations. In their conversations, she challenged him to question his longstanding views of the Dalish, her unwavering spirit and insight quietly challenging his biases. He found himself admiring her mind, her resilience, her compassion—qualities that set her apart from anyone he had ever known. Each moment with her deepened his respect, making her more than just a fleeting connection; she became someone he valued profoundly, someone who reshaped his understanding of the world.

Being around her always caused him to teeter on the brink of losing control. The memory of their kiss is still vivid in his mind: the softness in her voice as she asked about its meaning, the intense stare in her eyes that seemed to see right through him. He can recall his own response - "I have not forgotten the kiss" - spoken with a rare vulnerability, a confession he struggled to even acknowledge within himself.

She moved in closer, crossing into his personal space with her hands clasped behind her back. Her posture seemed to convey both surrender and a playful command. As he started to turn away, she reached out and gently touched his arm. Her words, a simple plea of "don't go," echoed in his mind, stopping him from retreating any further. In that moment, he could feel the strong pull of his instinct to flee, and the words lingered in the space between them: "It would be better in the end." But it was his next confession that would haunt him more than anything else: "But losing you would..." - an incomplete confession that left him exposed and vulnerable.

Solas lets out a wistful sigh, reliving the memory of their kiss with vivid detail and longing. Her lips, so soft and warm, ignited a fire within him that still burned just as brightly as it did on that day. The kiss started off gentle, but soon he was lost in her, pulling her closer and deepening their connection. His arms enveloped her, his hands exploring every curve and contour of her body as they shared a moment of intense passion and desire.

In that brief instant, he felt a surge of happiness and an ache in his chest as he acknowledged his conflicting emotions. Love and duty battled for control over his heart. As he whispered "Ar lath ma, vhenan," those words echoed in his mind as a definitive surrender, a strong bond between their souls.

As Solas slowly opens his eyes, he notices that she has disappeared from view. But her laughter echoes through the air, filled with joy and freedom. He remains seated, closing his eyes again with a gentle smile on his face as he takes in the delightful sound of her exploring. He is content to let her roam while he basks in the moment.

The connection between him and Lavellan is unlike anything he has ever known, intricate and layered in ways he never imagined. There are moments when she reminds him of his former self, before he entered the physical realm. Maybe that's why he forbade her request to accompany him on his quest to destroy the Veil; she was a mirror of his past self, unencumbered by thousands of years and untouched by the cost of his choices.

He didn't want her to suffer the same fate as him, being led astray from her purpose. While Mythal no longer has the same control over him as before, it does not erase how that control over him had warped his beliefs in ways he feared sharing with her and causing her harm. Mythal’s guidance was driven by a relentless sense of duty that had forced him to go against his own morals repeatedly.

Lavellan, on the other hand, possessed certain qualities that reminded him of Mythal - her strong leadership skills, her love and protection for the elven people, and her authoritative presence. But unlike Mythal, Lavellan also grounded him in compassion and integrity. She showed him a path where fulfilling his duties did not have to sacrifice kindness, and she embodied a way of being that was both powerful and gentle. In every sense, she served as a reminder of the person he used to be and the person he still had the potential to become.

How could he impose on her the same fate that had been imposed upon him? Determined to break the cycle, he made a conscious effort to treat her as an equal, respecting her autonomy and moral decisions even when they differed from his own. Unlike with Mythal, whose guidance had often disregarded his own agency, he consciously chose to respect Lavellan’s independence, valuing her as a partner rather than a tool. In doing so, he hoped to give her what he had lacked—a voice, a choice, and the freedom to walk her own path.

Mythal had been controlling, molding him into someone he had tried to resist becoming with Lavellan. While he would occasionally offer guidance to her, he always did so with a deep regard for her beliefs and made sure not to compromise her values. In hindsight, his dynamic with Mythal had felt stifling, weighed down by feelings of regret. He began to feel more like a pawn than an equal, left with a lingering sensation of being manipulated.

His dedication to Mythal had been multi-layered, almost worshipful - a loyalty fueled by obligation, by an unyielding determination to carry out her wishes and goals, even if it meant sacrificing parts of himself. With Mythal, it was always about fulfilling duty and wielding power, no matter the consequences.

But with Lavellan, everything changed. She gave him something he didn’t know he was missing: the chance at healing and, maybe, even redemption. Ever since their journey started in Haven, she had slowly and unconsciously encouraged him to find a path that matched his inner desires. She became a safe haven for him, a calming refuge—even when he refused to heed her advice and stayed on his destructive path, she stayed by his side, a constant reminder of who he truly was.

She is his heart, the center of his being. He has come to realize and finally accept that his feelings for her surpass any sense of duty or obligation; they go beyond even the concept of love itself. His love for her is fueled by the desire to protect her, to safeguard her light and keep her safe from the corruption that has consumed his own soul. In her, he sees the purity and goodness that he thought he had lost, and he would do anything to ensure she remains untouched by the darkness he has experienced.

“Solas!” Lavellan’s voice rings out, causing him to open his eyes. “Join me over here!” He rises from his spot and walks towards the sound of splashing water. “Vhenan?” He calls out as he pushes through the surrounding plants, catching a glimpse of her standing in a body of water.

She had removed her outer garments and was the water dressed only in her undergarments. "Look, there's even fish!" She exclaimed with a giggle of delight. Solas pauses at the water's edge, a fond smile playing on his lips as he watches Lavellan's childlike delight. Her joy is infectious, and he feels a warmth spreading through his chest. "Indeed there are," he says softly, his eyes following her graceful movements in the water. "The Fade reflects our expectations and desires. Your curiosity has brought these creatures into being."

Suddenly, Lavellan plunges beneath the water, disappearing below the surface in search of whatever mysteries might lie within this strange Fade-bound lake.

Solas watches on, reflecting on his past and how Lavellan has impacted him. In a way that Mythal, with all her godlike power, could never achieve, Lavellan had accomplished something truly remarkable. She had accepted him fully, embracing every aspect of his being in a way he hadn't experienced since before his existence in the physical realm. The feeling of belonging and acceptance flooded him, filling the voids that had long been empty within his soul. It was as if he had finally found his place in the world, and it was beside this incredible, understanding woman who saw him for who he truly was.

As Lavellan resurfaces, water cascading down her face and hair, Solas finds himself transfixed. The droplets shimmer in the ethereal light of the Fade, creating a halo around her that seems to embody the very essence of her spirit. She beams at him, her eyes sparkling with excitement and wonder. She emerges from the water, and he watches as she dries herself off. "Are you enjoying yourself?” he asks her with a soft smile. She looks up at him and returns the smile. "I did, thank you for letting me wander," she replies before walking over to him.

Solas tilts his head down, his eyes meeting hers. “Of course,” he says softly, reaching out to gently tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. A small smile plays on his lips as he watches her reaction. She leans into his touch, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment. When she opens them again, there's a warmth there that makes Solas's breath catch. She steps closer, closing the distance between them. The scent of wildflowers and fresh water clings to her skin, intoxicating in its simplicity. Solas finds himself leaning in, drawn by an invisible force he can't quite name.

Their lips meet in a tender kiss, soft and sweet. Solas pulls her closer, one arm wrapping around her waist as the other hand tangles in her damp hair. Lavellan melts into him, her body molding against his as if they were made to fit together. Lavellan leans away from him, tilting her head to look up at the sky. The sun has set and the stars are beginning to appear in the fading light of the Fade. “Do you want to stargaze before we go to sleep?” she asks him, a hint of hope in her tone.

The corners of Solas's lips slowly curl upwards, his eyes crinkling with warmth as he gazes down at her. "I would find that most enjoyable," he responds in a low, melodic voice. Solas gently takes Lavellan's hand, intertwining their fingers as he leads her to a small clearing nearby. The grass beneath their feet is soft and cool, swaying gently in a nonexistent breeze. Above them, the Fade sky shimmers with countless stars, each one brighter and more vibrant than any seen in the waking world.

They settle down on the grass, Solas sitting with his back against a tree, while Lavellan nestles between his legs, her back resting against his chest. His arms encircle her waist, holding her close as they both gaze up at the celestial display above. "It's beautiful," Lavellan whispers, her voice filled with awe. "I've never seen the stars so clearly before." Solas hums in agreement, his chin resting lightly on the top of her head.

Solas's lips curve into a gentle smile as he gazes up at the starry expanse above them. "The Fade often reflects our deepest desires and memories," he murmurs softly, his breath warm against Lavellan's ear. "This view... it reminds me of nights long past, when the world was younger and the Veil did not yet exist," his voice is low and melodic, filled with a mixture of nostalgia and longing.

Lavellan intertwined her fingers with his and gave them a gentle squeeze. "I know that you long for the time before the Veil," she says, trying to offer him some comfort. Solas lets out a soft sigh, thinking back to his memories from earlier that day. "Yes, I do," he replies. "But if I had not created the Veil..." He pauses, lost in thought for a moment. "Our paths would never have crossed."

Lavellan turns her head slightly, looking up at him with a gentle smile. "And I'm grateful that our paths did cross," she says softly, her eyes shimmering with affection. Solas feels a warmth bloom in his chest at her words. He tightens his embrace, drawing her closer against him. "As am I, vhenan," he murmurs, his voice low and tender, as he presses a gentle kiss to her temple.

They drift into a comfortable silence, each lost in thought as they gaze up at the star-studded sky. Solas’s eyes wander across the constellations, memories of ancient stories and myths flickering to life with each familiar shape. Gradually, he begins to share these tales with Lavellan, his voice low and soothing as he recounts the ancient lore, weaving each story with care. In that quiet moment, he shares a precious piece of his former world with her, the distant stars bridging past and present in a way that feels both intimate and timeless.

[ungodlysaltyinfrastructure]

Hey… so uh… Alux witnessing his mother die in front of him, anyone?

Aha. So um. I inexplicably went missing on tumblr...

Why? I tried deleting an experimental side blog I didn't need/want, and because I don't know how tumblr works, I had actually deleted my main account (Note to self, never venture off into the account settings, WITHOUT CHECKING WHICH BLOG IM ON) I was devastated about it, but, it may have been a good thing for me, question mark? I had been embroiled in toxic queer discourse (aphobia sucks), and it took a toll on my mental well-being. So I took this unfortunate deletion of my work as a sign to relax a bit, despite the pit of panic that formed when this happened. Luckily, I'm better! (again >_>) and I still love Alux Rising, so here I am, making my grand return! back at it again with more way too long character analysis!

I would've posted about my abrupt leaving of tumblr sooner as I was eager to explain everything, but then AR 14 dropped soooooooooooo

Okay. Ar 14. Just made me incredibly happy. A major thing that had been missing for me was actual depictions of Alux as a child. He goes on about how his childhood was rough, but we never actually got to see such. Only the aftermath of such childhood with his relationship to Elric.

Now that we've seen it,

Oh God. It explains, a lot. I always thought Alux acted weird, so much so that I started to theorize that he was *actually* autistic/ASD (More Asperger's Syndrome but that term is no longer used)

But now…

I still hold firm in my Autistic Aro Alux Headcanon, but now his “lack of character” makes more sense to me.

It's made out that Alux's lack of character was prominent in his childhood, as his mother says that one day, he'll learn to like whatever he likes, and he'll be his own person, inferring that he doesn't understand that yet as a child. That's really intriguing to me. Apparently, his blandness was apparent in his childhood, and now in his adulthood. And it seems that the only thing he fully knows how to do, is to help people. If this lack of uniqueness to his character was in his childhood, then maybe the fact that Alux is bland is a defining character trait for him. One that will be overridden by this developing story of Alux rising. (Aha! Character development!)

Now, in relation to Alux and his parents.

It seems like he followed his mom more than his dad. That's why he brings her up in his and Elric's argument, and why he says “I like what you like!” and “I want to be just like you” To her in the memory.

And upon further rewatching, my heart just broke.

In the memory, Alux's mom says “But remember to be the best version of yourself, and to treat others how you want to be treated.”

How does Alux treat others currently? *He constantly helps them. protecting them, making sure they're OK.*

*sigh*...

Ok.

I'm really glad that we got this flash back. It actually helps put some character into Alux (even if it being trauma) and his lack of reaction to a lot of things makes much more sense. Even after the whole flashback, his lack of talking about the memory for why he had such a strong reaction feels very realistic considering the circumstances.

Another thing I realized, when Alux snaps out of it, the surrounding magic of green crystals is the orchids. I'm crying.

It most definitely seems like witnessing his mother's death stunted Alux's mental development to a degree, mostly in the sense that he doesn't fully know who he is, what he wants, or what he likes with what seemed to be his only supporting figure in his life now gone. If he still had his mother, maybe he would've turned out differently. (Wow shocker, I know.)

And honestly, we all knew Alux was traumatized, but I did not expect it to be to THIS extent. I just thought his mom died of an illness, and he wasn't there to see it but she was gone.

I was. SO WRONG.

Dead wrong. One could say.

Like Alux's mom- *cough*

anyways- yea Alux's nickname should definitely be Horny, Professor Red- oops, sorry *GEARS* comes up with the best nicknames, in fact he should become president and deliver every presidential speech in his rhyming scheme.

Oh and James is not dead,

Apparently.

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

🥀 Unwary 🥀

After working on and off for MONTHS and staring at it a long time, here’s the Théodwyn story many of you have heard me agonizing over. I can’t look at it anymore, so we’re just hitting “post”!

It’s called Unwary, which is one of the few words Tolkien gives us to describe Théodwyn’s husband Éomund. He was a “hater of orcs” who often rode against them “in hot anger, unwarily and with few men.” That got him killed and, shortly thereafter, Théodwyn herself died of an illness. This story is my attempt to tie all that together.

Note that Théodwyn’s 3 (canonical but nameless) sisters are here; they came to help after Éomund’s death. You’ll see I gave 2 of them Gondorian names; more explanation of that at the bottom if you’re interested.

There is a fire inside Théodwyn that will not be doused.

It has smoldered for years, just waiting for the breath of air that would coax its glowing embers to life and send a wave of flame racing through her as though she were made not of bone and blood but of kindling and fuel. Now lit by Éomund’s inevitable death, the fire burns bigger and hotter each new day that dawns without him, and it laps at her heart, singeing and charring until there is nothing left but heat. Gone is anything soft and pliant, anything tender or understanding, replaced instead by blistering fury.

She stalks the plains outside of Aldburg in the dark, crunching heavily over glittering, frost encrusted grass. She is trying to outrun that fury, though a fortnight of this new nightly ritual has achieved no such thing so far. But if she cannot leave her anger behind, maybe she can still exhaust it, tire it enough that it can be wrestled into submission and leave her in peace. Deep down, she suspects the effort is in vain, but she has no better plan. She is bereft of ideas, just as she is now bereft of laughter and sympathy and hope. Her husband is just one of many things suddenly missing from her life, and he is not the one she most wants back.

Sweat soaks into both her dress and cloak, and large red blooms form on her cheeks. Each gale of frigid wind catches the dampness at the small of her back or along her hairline beneath her hood, and sends a wave of wracking chills across her heated skin. But her pace never falters despite the passing of long hours and long miles. Over the sound of her boots grinding delicate ice into so many shattered crystals, she mutters her mantra again and again, hissing out the words in time with the rhythm of her steps.

I knew this would happen. I knew this would happen. I knew this would happen.

The night is her time to let this anger out, far away from Éomer and Éowyn, both much too young to be burdened with the knowledge that their dead father was a reckless fool. Someone who couldn’t control his own impetuous need to act and, worse, refused to accept a cautioning hand even from one he professed to honor and cherish. She had begged him not to go, to delay for even a single hour until more men could be gathered to join his small party of riders. But he had been blind, as ever, to anything but his own rash impulses and instincts. He had scoffed at her fears, swept aside her concerns, given bold assurances that weren’t in his power to make. And now he was being hailed as a fallen hero while she was left alone with the consequences of his folly, to manage a tragic loss that she knew to be entirely of his own making.

She hadn’t always felt this way about him. There was a time when she found his passion and spontaneity exciting. Stirring. Romantic. To be the object of his attentions, to be the desire that he would overturn the world to sate, was a special brand of intoxicant, and she drank it in willingly. His quickness to action and his unfailing courage set him apart from other men, and he gained much by risking more than others could stomach. She felt his every gain as her own, and they ran heedless together through the world, two free souls as yet unchecked by the realities of life.

But what felt brave and thrilling and decisive when they were twenty had begun to look much different on the doorstep of forty, when he had already gained more than most men could dream of and only stood now to lose what had been so daringly won. Slowly, creepingly, she began to see his whims as childish, his zealotry as self indulgent. It surprised her every bit as much as him, but somewhere along the way, with age and responsibility and perspective, she became the person who would check him as life never had. The person to ask questions, to say no, to thwart his boldest ambitions and disappoint his most absurd hopes.

Whenever she did, he would look at her as though he looked upon a stranger, an unrecognizable drudge that had stolen the body of his daring and passionate wife. He would look at her as though she had broken faith with him, betraying their bond by choosing to accept that they lived in a world of constraints and limitations. And then she would hate herself, and him, too.

A dull, thudding pain hammers away in the space right behind her eyes, and her muscles and joints ache with every wearied step, calling out for rest. To sit or lay quietly for a while might ease the strain that has increasingly weighed on her body these last few days, the strain of too little sleep, too little food, too little protection from the harsh bite of winter. But she no longer cares for physical ease or comfort. She can endure without them; it has always been the way of the Rohirrim to bear such things without complaint. What she cannot bear is the seething in her mind during moments of stillness, those times of lonely silence while others sleep and she can only gnaw on the bones of her grievances and look with contempt at her memories now tainted by abandonment. And so she stomps through the cold desolation instead, the frozen cloud of her breath drifting along in the wake of a body indulging in the only escape available.

She knows she should be at home in case her children need her, and she knows that her sisters disapprove of how she has been acting. You’ll catch your death out there, says Edlenniel each night as she walks out the door. You need to start taking better care of yourself, clucks Théopryte, a critical eye cast over her increasingly bony figure, her unkempt hair. And this, too, makes her angry, the insistence of her elder sisters on treating her as though she is still a child even now. Nothing she does is ever good enough in their eyes – her home is too untidy, her language too profane, her daughter too much at liberty to run wild rather than learning the ways of respectable girlhood. And now she cannot even grieve correctly.

In truth, she had not expected to mourn this way. The day Éomund rode off, she had imagined her own reaction to the eventual return of his meager company without him. Sorrow, longing, despair, regret – these had been anticipated despite her frustrations. But when Éothain knocked at her door with the news, watery eyes rimmed with red and a battered horse-tailed helmet in hand, she felt none of those things. They vanished in an instant, disappeared from her heart and mind, perhaps never to return. Instead, she became like the cicadas that come to Rohan every dozen years and litter the ground with their delicate molted shells, perfectly formed images of themselves that have been deserted, no longer fit for use and liable to shatter under the slightest of pressures.

Now every interaction, every well-meaning friend or suffering relative, is at risk of being the next target of the dull blade of her anger, always at the ready to hack and slice ineffectually at those who draw her attention and, thus, her scorn. The neighbors who look at her pityingly as they pass by. The men of Éomund’s company who expect her to join them in their grief. Even her sweet son, all knobby knees and gangly elbows, works an inflamed nerve as he swings a sword much too big for him, vowing to protect their house now in his father’s absence. It’s a mother’s job to protect her child, not the other way around, she says to the thin frame and slight shoulders that are not yet grown enough to bear his own charge. You have years left just to be a boy, safe under my care. But it is said through gritted teeth, her tone emotionless, and he doesn’t believe her.

She has enough awareness still to see what she’s become, and though she cannot change it, she knows to try to hide it. She labors each day to be the mother her children need, sitting with them as they cry and holding her tongue when they paint Éomund in their remembrances as a valiant hero, a man to rival all the greatest legends of song. But they know that something isn’t right within her; some voice inside their childlike minds warns them of peril in the one place where they were trained never to expect it. Éomer has stopped asking why she doesn’t cry, and Éowyn now clearly prefers to seek her comfort from Tadiel, whose soft arms, doughy middle and doting indulgence provide what Théodwyn’s sharp, angular body and brittle bearing simply can’t or won’t.

As it inches toward sunrise, she reluctantly turns toward home again, where soon the rest of the household will begin to stir and her absence will be noted, frowned about and tsked over. The judgment of her sisters is no real concern, but she doesn’t want to add to the worries of her children. For them, she will fight to maintain even the barest pretense of normalcy. For her children, she will sit in that house among the remains of Éomund’s life – his belongings, his clothes, his scent – and she will struggle to breathe through the poisonous resentment that is trapped in her throat because she cannot allow it to pass her lips. For her children, she will choke.

The gate comes into view and, beyond it, the garden that she once loved and nurtured into glory, now gone dormant for the winter. She stumbles on the rise to the path, and a knee drives into the frozen ground. She rights herself with difficulty, grunting in the effort, and she curses at this clumsiness. Weakness of body has never been a challenge of hers, and she cannot understand the heavy, dragging feeling that follows her to the door. For the first time, she considers whether everything – the throbbing head, the sweating skin, the screaming joints – is not just a product of exertion but something more serious. Something brought on by the refusal to rest, to eat, to stay warm, to accept comfort and support. It is an unsettling thought, and she tries to push it from her mind as she slips quietly inside.

The frozen sting in her fingertips and toes is a strange counterpoint to the burning heat of her forehead and cheeks, and she collapses into a chair by the fire, waiting out the gradual thaw of her frost-dulled limbs and the eventual return of her body to how it is supposed to feel. But though her fingers slowly lose their bluish tinge and sensation tentatively returns to her feet, the heat in her face and the exhaustion in her muscles only grow. Time ticks by, innumerable minutes that seem like hours, and she can feel it all continue to worsen. What little energy she had now spills from her body like the blood of the stags that Éomund used to hunt, their carcasses sliced open and left to drain. A shiver runs through her, once and then again and again and again, every time stronger until the shivers are full-body spasms that clack her teeth together, threatening to catch her tongue in each jolt. A low, groaning noise fills the room, and she discovers with surprise that it is coming from her own throat.

Good gods, Théodwyn. What have you done to yourself? Edlenniel is in the doorway, and the horrified alarm in her voice is enough to smother the instinct to snap in response. What has she done? She tries to stand, but her legs don’t respond. A strange distance has crept in and inserted itself between the intentions of her mind and the obedience of her body. She wills herself up again and lurches forward with great effort. Is she standing now? She cannot be, not with the cool, smooth stone of the floor somehow pressed to her flushed cheek. She would lift her head to check, but the exhaustion is so heavy that it pins her down, the turning of a screw that secures her, motionless, to wherever she has landed.

Her mind becomes slow and hazy, her sight flickering in and out as though she is passing quickly between rooms that are brightly lit and others that are in total darkness. Théopryte is there and then not. Calls for help are relayed down the hall, and more people rush in. Tadiel pulls Éomer from the doorway, a hand over his eyes as though the sight of his mother is too frightful for him even to look upon. Clamoring, urgent voices echo around inside Théodwyn’s head until they are no longer intelligible to her, just a whirling churn of volumes and tones. She floats, alone and disconnected, in a sea of others’ panic.

A man’s face appears in her field of vision, lifting her up and carrying her to a nearby couch. Théodred? It comes out as a hoarse whisper, and the face shakes its head. No, of course not. Her beloved nephew doesn’t live in Aldburg and never has. A neighbor, then? Or servant? She loses interest before she can unravel the mystery, distracted by a painful new sensation that prickles across the surface of her skin like a thousand small needles. She squeezes her eyes shut, trying to exhale the pain with her every labored breath.

Uncounted hours pass, and she is now in her own bed, though she cannot recall being brought there. It takes all her effort just to keep her eyes open, and each time she blinks, it feels like scraping her eyelids over sand. She drifts in and out of lucidity, bobbing in a current of confused thought like a small boat tied up at the edge of a running river. When she’s lost, she is certain she can see Éomund in the corner, watching her in grave silence. When she’s present, she hears bits and snatches of hushed conversation, all in the voices of her sisters. The healer says there is nothing more to be done, says one. Such an awful waste, sniffles another. I knew this would happen, sighs the third. But who could stop her from running herself into the ground this way? She’s always done just what she wanted, no matter how rash or irresponsible.

Amidst all her pains, these words hit her like a blow, and an immediate, convulsive heaving in her stomach has others running for the healer again to manage this fresh symptom of her malady. But she knows it for what it really is: the retching out of unwelcome truth, her body’s rejection of this simple distillation of her fate. Recovery is not coming. She will die here in this bed, and her death will be needless. Pointless. And all the more shameful because she should have known better. She could have heeded the cautions and warnings of others.

Edlenniel leans her over a bowl as she empties herself of what little she’s eaten in the last day, and the bitter taste in her mouth lingers even after she has swirled and spat out many mouthfuls of water. It lingers as she collapses back into the sweat-soaked sheets that cling to every inch of exposed skin. It lingers as her addled mind struggles to reckon with the weight and cost of her mistake, this tragedy of her own making. It will always linger, for all the minutes she has left in the world and for the eternity that stretches out into the boundless, unknown future beyond it.

Her head lolls weakly to one side, and she can see Éomund in the corner still watching, silent and attentive. His face is not impassive, but calm. He accepts what has happened, is happening, will happen, and she must accept it, too. He dissolves into a vague blur as hot tears begin to spill down her cheeks, and whether they are tears for him or for herself, she isn’t sure. When she blinks her eyes clear again, he has moved closer to the bedside. He smiles softly, the wistful look of one who knows what it is to carry the burden of self-blame past any hope of remedy, and he reaches toward her with an open hand. A hand of consolation and invitation.

She will take it, but not yet.

Bring the children, she rasps out.

There is a moment’s debate in the room, furious whispers that drift to her ears. Not something a child should witness, she hears. There may not be time to wait, is the response. She repeats her request, louder this time, and the debate intensifies, rising in pitch and strength. But before the argument can resolve itself, Éomer has pushed in from the hallway, towing little Éowyn by the hand. Her words have reached them on their own.

She struggles to bring her son and daughter into focus, just as they struggle to see the outlines of their strong, capable mother in this frail, spiritless form. She craves nothing more than rest, but she knows she cannot; if she rests now, she will not wake again. She takes each one by the hand, their skin cold and dry against her own clammy fingers and palms, and presses those hands to her lips.

Be good for your uncle, she tells them. Your cousin will love you as a brother.

Éomer, quicker to understand, begins to cry, and his tears trigger Éowyn’s. Soon all three are crying together, for both the first and last time.

You deserve better than this, she should say. I have failed you, she wants to say. But would it give them any comfort to know that she belatedly understands her own mistakes? That left to do it all again, she would guarantee that they would never be without their mother? What can she tell them now that will help and not hurt, that will be a gift and not a hindrance? She swallows hard, and it is like swallowing gravel. Your father and I did the best we could, she whispers. The two of you will do better, and we will be proud.

She drops back to the pillow, exhausted beyond measure, and someone bundles the children back out into the hall again. Éomund smiles at her, and she nods. Her eyes drift closed as his hand wraps around hers, and the burning in her heart and skin slowly fades, the fire extinguished at last.

A note on the sisters of Théoden: Their father, Thengel, ran away to Gondor as a young man and lived there for a huge chunk of his life. He married Morwen, a Gondorian woman, and Tolkien tells us he only went back to Rohan “unwillingly” to take up the throne after his own father died. 2 of his daughters and his son were born in Gondor before that happened, and my HC is that all 3 of them had Gondorian names because, at the time, Thengel never had any intention of ever going back. So that gives us Edlenniel (“daughter of the exile,” since that’s how he saw himself) and Tadiel (“second daughter,” so overshadowed by her siblings that Thengel couldn’t be bothered to even give her an interesting name).

Théoden himself had a Gondorian name as well (Arnhereg, “royal blood”) but he changed it to something Rohirric (Théoden means “leader of the people”) when the family went back to Rohan both because he wanted to fit in better and because it seemed only appropriate that the future king of Rohan have a Rohirric name. Then when the other two sisters were born in Rohan, they were given Rohirric names as well (Théopryte, “pride of the people,” who was extremely beautiful; and Théodwyn, “joy of the people,” who was full of spirit).

3 of the 4 sisters were dead by the time of the War of the Ring (Edlenniel from old age, Théopryte from an accident, and Théodwyn as described here), and Tadiel had gone back to Gondor. Edlenniel never had any children and Tadiel and Théopryte had only daughters, which is why we don’t hear anything about other cousins that might have competed with Éomer for the throne after Théodred’s death. I’ve made a backstory for each of the sisters, but no use putting that all here since I’ve already gone on too long!

(Dividers by the wonderful @quillofspirit !)

[moro-the-sun]

Grian dies as the light burns his skin.

Grian dies, breaking into millions of pieces, forming something new, but irretrievably losing the old.

Grian no longer sees anything new. After all, there is nothing new under the sun.

Scott dies looking at the white dots above.

Scott dies, remembering the crystal that Martin split and the light that was reflected in Ren's glasses.

Scott sparkles with truthfulness and honesty, the kindness that ruined everyone. There are stars tangled in his hair.

Pearl dies feeling someone else's pain and agony.

Pearl dies looking at Scott's beaming smile.

She wins, but she doesn't feel her victory. After all, the Moon does not glow, but reflects light.

Martin dies overcrowded but hungry.

Martin dies with the end of time, and begins again.

He rocks on the waves, and the sea is cruel to him. Even here, in corals, the forest can grow.

Scar doesn't die, and he wanders through the empty server, alone.

Scar doesn't die and he presses the success button.

The book slips from his hot fingers, but then immediately ends up in them again, becoming covered in blood.

Scar's hands are covered in blood.

There is blood all around him.

[kimberlyannharts]

At this point Power Rangers has done a few crossover comics, and they've all been some pretty logical and big name choices - the Justice League, the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and Godzilla. So today's crossover comic is one that definitely took people by surprise - Usagi Yojimbo, the long-running story of a wandering rōnin having adventures in feudal Japan (who also happens to be a bunny rabbit), written and illustrated by Stan Sakai since 1984. While an icon in his own right - funnily enough, he's a regular guest in TMNT properties - I don't think ANYONE really had HIM in mind as a contender for a crossover with Power Rangers compared to more conventional properties like Transformers or even My Little Pony.

After all, what do they know about samurai in Power Rangers?

It's Mighty Morphin Power Rangers/Usagi Yojimbo!

= So I know I've gone on and on about Shawn Daley's art but I really just need you to look at them again. It just makes me so happy to see a more stylized take on the MMPRs - basically if you took Daniele di Nicuolo's art and ramped up the anime influence by 100. It gives the book that much extra charm

= who the hell is THIS I'm here for the FURRIES not another random boring human!!!!!! it's like I'm playing Animal Crossing

= Jason's attitude in this book annoys me but at the same time it wouldn't be a Ryan book if he wasn't writing Jason in a way that annoys me.

= (also, they knew about the Morphin Masters this early in their Ranger career? I guess Zordon did mention them in an early episode, but.........what have they done that's similar to this that Jason would know about kjkjdkf

= I still think it's very weird that they didn't give the whole "maybe it would be easier if I was fighting alone" to uh.....you know.....Tommy, the loner? Who's so used to fighting alone that he struggled to adjust to a team? But I guess he has a girlfriend and Jason doesn't so.

= Is this a safe space. because the rabbit is pretty hot.

= HAHAHAAAA TOKEN EVIL HUMAN I KNEW IT

= YFIP: THE MIGHTY MORPHIN POWER RANGERS - assisting the villain, thievery of a powerful artifact, assault against civilians, racism against furries

= Like I've said before Jason's characterization here irritates me a bit but I'll give the book props that someone's actually allowed to call him out on it for once. Like man I wish Tommy in the main series was allowed to tell Jason to shut up once in a while like Usagi does here

= Kim: Tommy, it's 4 pm! Time to go help our friends!

Tommy: yes honey

= Wow, look at these guys! They're like......Shogun Rangers! ............wait a minute

= But seriously, though, I gotta say these are one of the best alternate MMPR designs we've gotten in ages - I LOVE how they apply all of MMPR's little details into each individual user. And the altered weapons are awesome, too. Between these and the Kaiju Rangers we've really been cooking with the alternate forms lately

= And as I said, they did manage to resist the urge to give Usagi a Ranger form. I did like my old "maybe he'll find a Samuraizer" idea, though

= They both nearly died via crystal explosion a few hours ago but all they care about is their cool new outfits, just otp things <3

= I was about to say "well yeah, duh, that's why the Dragonzord doesn't have wings" but then I remembered. oh yeah. technically the Zords aren't Japanese in origin in-universe, are they

= It's nice to see Dragonzord Battle Mode! That was a form that didn't get a lot of spotlight in the comics - I think the only time we really saw it in the main series was Shattered Grid, and not for very long before it got destroyed by Serpentera

= Kim and Usagi only get one real onscreen exchange but she also catches him in the Pterodactyl and they have matching bangs. I'll take this as a win, though Splinter is still her #1 rodent dad

= they are so fucking sad

= I think future books should bring Usagi back or just crossover with him again with no explanation. Make people think he's a PR character just like how people assume he's a TMNT character

[gallifreyanhotfive]

Random Doctor Who Facts You Might Not Know, Part 43

Tw: some description of post mortem decay

Tegan once found herself in the mid-1980s. While here, she had an encounter with a rather stroppy teenaged waitress. This waitress was named "Dorothy." (Novel: The Crystal Bucephalus)

During funerals on Venus, the brain of the deceased is cut up and eaten by those attending. This was a way the deceased could live on as they would gain the deceased's memories this way. The First Doctor could take this in stride, but Barbara and Ian were a bit disturbed by it. (Novel: Venusian Lullaby)

Rassilon feared for the survival of the Time Lords so deeply that he sent biogenic molecules back in time that would force all life forms in the universe that were affected to evolve into something similar to what was the Gallifreyan standard. This is why so many species look similar. (So Time Lords don't look human...Humans look like Time Lords, just as Trions, Trakenites, etc etc do, because Rassilon interfered with their natural evolution). (Audio: Zagreus)

The Doctor's previous selves maintain awareness in their subconscious, and for a while, the Doctor would keep some of them imprisoned in their mind. For example, the Fifth Doctor was kept in chains in a pit. (Novel: Timewyrm: Revelation)

They also kept the Sixth Doctor imprisoned very deep inside the Doctor's mind for fear of the Valeyard. (Novel: Head Games)

Indeed, the Seventh Doctor started having dreams that his Eighth would lock him in a "room with no doors" after their regeneration. (Novel: The Room With No Doors)

The design for the Mondasian Cyberman was based off of a body scan of the Fifth Doctor. (Audio: Spare Parts)

By some accounts, Liz Shaw died of Agent Yellow, which is a virus that turns oxygen into sulfuric acid somehow. (Novel: Eternity Weeps)

The Fatkats are a race of giant, intelligent cats. They sometimes keep humans as pets. Rory was kidnapped by a Fatkat and given to his kid as a gift, and the kid renamed him Cuddles. The Eleventh Doctor and Amy eventually convinced the Fatkats to help them free Rory, and as a thank-you gift, he left them a life-sized stuffed Doctor doll for them to play with. (Comic: Humans Aren't Just For Christmas)

The Tenth Doctor once wrote a letter to the Brigadier, saying he felt guilty for not visiting and that he was thinking of him. When the Brigadier died, this letter was found lying on his bedside cabinet as though he had just been reading it. Thus, it is likely that the Doctor’s words were the last he ever read and that he might have even passed thinking about his old friend. (Novel: The Time Lord Letters)

When Time Lords die, their TARDISes do as well. (Audio: The Axis of Insanity)

The Axis is a place in interdimensional space that holds together and regulates all damaged timelines to prevent the contamination from spreading. Time Lords typically aren't welcome since they are responsible for most aberrant timelines, but one was sent to investigate when Jarra To took over. This Time Lord was later found by the Doctor, oozing pus and covered in roaches after being murdered by Jarra To. (Audio: The Axis of Insanity)

One time after stumbling on alien invaders, the Eighth Doctor and Charley used their acting skills to save the day. Charley became Lady Charleyostiantayshius, a Gallifreyan observer, and the Doctor became a transcriber from the High Council, who is pretty much Lady Charleyostiantayshius's excitable if a bit bumbling companion. They both wear the proper Gallifreyan regalia, and Charley was so good at her act that the Doctor thought she made a better Gallifreyan than he did. The Doctor convinces the captain of the alien fleet that there is a plague and gives him large quantities of the "vaccine," which is actually just straight up alcohol, so the captain gets wasted. (Audio: Living Legend)

The Doctor's memory of his first two incarnations is hazy, to say the least. (Audio: Cold Fusion)

Patience regenerated into a female form only after meeting the Fifth Doctor. The description of their prior incarnation is ambiguous in that regard. (Audio: Cold Fusion, Novel: Cold Fusion)

Peri was infected with a virus that copied all of her DNA and turned anyone she touched into a clone of herself. This included the Fifth Doctor, who started at first by repeating what Peri said and then became her. Based on the classic Big Finish noises that accompanied this, the change is graphically painful (Audio: Mission of the Viyrans)

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