#lorian's is actually on the pants

[neanmoins-que]

This little symbol on the steam page of the shadow of erdree announcement is driving me mad, I cannot find it anywhere else on official sources but also that's the darkwraith/lorian belt detail which is the most random possible origin of it. Not a 1:1 match but it goes without saying ds3 had the two serpents thing going on

[clarajohnson]

the magicians s2e8

gosh i did not remember julia losing her shade during the exorcism/abortion that is. that is soooooo interesting.

losing your shade seems to make you an insufferable theatre kid

"no hurting anyone, no casting magic, no sex" oh q you're kind of awful

looked at q's and alice's hands next to each other and felt some feelings. mortifying for me.

MARGO'S PANTS !!!!!!!!!!!!

margo's klepto proclivities are so deeply charming to me

q and margo are sweet friends. "my takeaway lately is that anything can happen at any time, so just be there while you can" :-'''''''( they are so tender with each other

i love when they have extras in the cottage like sorry do you mean to tell me other people are just going to magic grad school with no complications

anyone ever pay attention to the murals on the title card? i just noticed there's a fox on it and is that just for this episode? does it change? should i have been watching this?

julia: if reynard wanted to finish me off he'd have done it by now julia as soon as she leaves the wards: immediately encounters reynard

it's so sad that reynard is so hot

don't wanna say it. don't wanna go here. shadeless julia? hot.

i screamed when q showed up lmao dude

jalph can do anything except play niffin alice he's too babygirl

shadeless julia kicking the rasp up to eleven

q took art history. say more about that quentin.

niffin alice reading about "fixing niffins" vs future alice saying she misses being a niffin... well that is just fascinating.

i remember 0% of the library contract so this will be interesting

wait where are q and kady i like the cds

why did it take penny so long to notice alice in q's head lol

margo's little robe traveling robe >>>>>

hi. so you the nymph?

julia and margo were the best people to do this dryad thing because he says two females and they share this look and you know they've just agreed to cause some unholy terror. and sure julia goes farther than margo probably would've but it shows so much promise for their dynamic i love to see them together.

niffin alice testing q on his alice knowledge all the time. kind of feels like he loved the idea of her more than the real her at the time HMMMM. phosphoromancy. my discipline, idiot.

fen, you too, sweetie. OHHHHHH MY GOD.

margo saying "they don't want me, they want the high king" JUST WAIT !!!!! JUST WAIT BABY I LOVE YOU !!!!!!! also her trembling lower lip oh god i love margo hanson so goddamn much.

time sight viewmaster is SUCH a the magicians thing lmao

dana was a great mom actually huh

i love that the lorians have little harry potter ass wands. nation of lame-os.

my loyalty will always lie with me ohhhhhh shadeless julia you're the girl of my dreams

oh you know stella maeve had to be proud of that smirk she pulls after she explodes the forest

that's stupid. you play too much dungeons and dragons. alice quinn would never play dungeons and dragons.

fuck you pay me !!!! you tell them anglerbeast!

oh yeah gosh waking up and seeing a tiny dead body probably not the best thing for q huh.

friar joseph is so fun i love his little hangout. and i love how embarrassed q seems to be to be casting the boxing spell.

niffin alice still having tenuous self esteem oh aw :-(

bet otd had so much fun playing a niffin also oh man

"everything el promised i'm gonna deliver" yeah fen married the wrong fillory royal

queerplatonic is a fat nothing but i would never even attempt to describe whatever el and margo have going on

penny signing the library contract for magic but also for kady :'-(

"glass jaw, not a surprise"

[jinxviolets]

2, 7, 15 :)

2: A creation that came out completely different to what you had first pictured in your mind

hmmm i actually think my sam wilson + legacy set kind of took a left turn as i was looking through the eps for clips to use lol, i hadn't totally planned it out so it was a bit of flying by the seat of my pants and a LOT of trial and error 😅

7: What is something you want to develop in your future creations?

i really want to explore blending gifs more, especially full-size gifs over full-size gifs! some of my fave creators manage to find and highlight (or even sometimes create) these really beautiful subtleties and i would love to be able to do that someday. also typography! i have to fight my brain with typography stuff and i would love to learn enough to get past that blockage and do it well

15: Talk about some of your favourite creators: what do you love most about their creations?

oh hey!!! this fits perfectly with my last answer lol

okay so i'm obsessed w these folks' creations:

@jackarthurdavenport - elle, a QUEEN of blending, not to mention gorgeous coloring & typography!!! her sets are so beautiful & creative and i adore everything she makes omg. it’s ALL quality

@niinazenik - phe is SO talented omg the COLORS the CLARITY the FONT CHOICES goddd everything she makes is so stunning!! seriously every creation i see is just... i wanna make stuff like that

@seance - omg every graphic is BREATHTAKING. from blending to fonts to shapes to colors to sheer creative force. it would take me a whole lot of years to reach that point & i’m always in awe

and then LIGHTNING ROUND bc i could go on for days about every single creator i love:

@inejz-ghafa @anya-chalotra @merlinsprat @luke-patterson for blending + typography + colors + creativity!! @steveroger @darksber @mandah-lorian @trashcora @erikillmonger @favreaus @roseapothecary for colors + clarity + creativity & more!!

i follow SO many amazing creators (yourself included 💛💛), though, those are just the ones that happened to pop in to my head first! i encourage ANYONE who wants more creators to follow to check out my blogroll, because it’s full of them!

creator asks! send me a number, maybe?

[thernandalorian]

30 Questions

I was tagged by gabi @mrpascals, astrid @javier-pena, and jo @djarsdin, thank you for thinking of me guys 💜💜💜

rules: answer 30 questions and tag 20 blogs you want to get to know better

1. Name/Nickname: Allison

2. Gender: female, she/her

3. Star sign: Scorpio

4. Height: 5′2

5. Time: 4:20 pm

6. Birthday: November 16

7. Favorite bands: LANY, The Band CAMINO, The Black Keys

8. Favorite solo artists: TAYLOR SWIFT, Post Malone, Brockhampton

9. Song stuck in your head: The London (feat. J. Cole and Travis Scott) by Young Thug

10. Last movie: Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines

11. Last show: The Witcher

12. When I did create this blog: December 2020!

13. What I post: Pedro Pascal and the Mandalorian

14. Last thing I googled: my professor’s website

15. Other blogs: @millenniumsfalcon (my main)

16. Do I get asks: sometimes and I’m thankful for them :)

17. Why i chose my url: I’m currently majoring in Pedro Pascal at Pascal University (prestigious, I know)

18. Following: 279

19. Followers: 

20. Average hours of sleep: 6-8 hours

21. Lucky number: 16

22. Instruments: Acoustic guitar!

23. What I’m wearing: Gingham pants and a cropped cardigan

24. Dream job: Actress, but we’re gonna be more realistic here in terms of career goals, dean of a hospital

25. Dream trip: Sad, but I was actually going to go on my dream trip with my best friends this summer as a graduation present but unfortunately it was cancelled :( It was a two week trip around Europe without our parents and it was supposed to be the most incredible time. Rest in peace summer 2020 🥲

26. Favorite food: Too many to say, but one is my mom’s niángāo

27. Nationality: American

28. Favorite song: betty by Taylor Swift

29. Last book: Paradise Now: The Story of American Utopianism (for a class lmao)

30. Top 3 fictional universes I wanna live in: Harry Potter or Star Wars but more Harry Potter

tags with no pressure: @darksber @mandah-lorian @jamesbuckysbarnes @di-n @din-djarns @ewan-mcgregor @lordsmaxwell @transitorywhim

[rosecolouredash]

Querencia CH. 5

Previous Chapter// PROLOGUE ONE TWO THREE FOUR

Summary: A prince and his sword faces his enemy.

Warnings: Violence and a lil bit of blood

Notes: HEY WHAT’S UP? I know it’s been a while! I return to work, after a week+ vacation, on Sunday but I’ve found myself inspired to write again. Was it because I saw 5SOS in concert? Maybe?? Either way, I’m running with it. So here’s the next chapter to Querencia. The longest chapter so far. I’m hoping to work on the hockey!au too so keep your eyes 👀👀 Thanks to everyone who’s stuck around ♥️

—

CHAPTER FIVE

With the help of the Royal Liberation Army, the civilians that lived in the South end of Ardglas were saved from the raging war. After their encounter with Luke, the White Mage who governed the area, the Army allied themselves with him and his Mages known as the Morning Doves. Together, they ventured to the Black Mage, Delara’s, home territory to seek the truth behind the attack—not before leaving the injured Knight, Ashton and Gryphon Rider, Dionne, back at Luke’s domain.

The group was immediately confronted with danger as they neared the manor of the Midnight Crows. Together, the Royal Army and Morning Dove alliance stormed the building and made quick work of the grunts that occupied the front portion of Delara’s home. Familiar with the layout, Luke led the way to the grand ballroom where he sensed his cousin’s magick—though it was very faint.

While Michael’s crew of bandits dealt with the enemy, the King of the Wastelands, the Prince and the scion of the South of Ardglas entered the ballroom.

When the White Mage pushed open the set of giant wooden doors, they were greeted by a large man stood at the center of the room—as if he were expecting them.

“That man,” Luke’s voice was lost when he suddenly noticed an unconscious Delara at the enemy’s feet. He felt his heart almost stop as his eyes searched for movement—any sort of movement—coming from his cousin but he did not. Even the feeling of her magick was gradually fading.

Calum shifted in his place and continued speaking for the mage who stood frozen at his side. “It’s Garrick.”

Michael was not familiar with the name. “Come again?” The Bandit looked towards both Luke and Calum for answers since they seemed quite familiar with the man. Between the three of them, the mage was the tallest. This man, though, looked as if he could tower Luke by half of a foot.

“He’s one of Lorian’s trusted generals and a fierce warrior.” Not an ounce of emotion was heard in the Prince’s voice at the statement. He then took a deep breath to calm himself. “Garrick was there.” Calum’s hand shook at his side as the other creeped up to grip at the hilt of his sword, in brewing rage. “He helped Lorian kill my father.”

The bandit frowned at the newfound information. This was not good.

“He’s also Dela’s boyfriend—” The Mage gritted his teeth as the crystals on his circlet began to glow. “—and he’ll be a dead ex-boyfriend when I’m done with him.”

The Bandit’s frown deepened. This was really not good.

—

The Royal Army and White Mages had long disappeared into the line of trees that surrounded Luke’s manor—yet Ashton still looked on, in hopes of their quick and safe return. From the doorway, Dionne watched the Knight with slight intrigue but mostly boredom. The manor was empty save the two, her gryphon companion and the Knight’s mare. She let out a sigh, finally addressing the head of the Third Cavalry. “You know, staring at the forest won’t bring them back any sooner.”

Ashton turned towards the Lady Bandit, a subtle smirk on his face. “You’re one to talk, Gryphon Rider.” He knew she stood at the entry for as long as he gazed upon the forests.

Dionne scoffed at the Knight’s almost smug, though admittedly charming, expression. She could not deny her apprehension. She needed to be there for Michael and the bandits’ return.

“They’re my family.”

“So, you should understand.” Ashton paused, his hazel gaze meeting hers of dark brown. “Calum is to me what Michael and the bandits are to you.”

Dionne let out another scoff, something the head knight had come to realize she did often at him, the twins and most especially the Prince.

“Is that so unbelievable to you?”

She almost rolled her eyes at his inquiry but kept herself composed. “Nothing you’ve been through with the Prince could ever compare to what Michael, the bandits and I have gone through.”

The Gryphon Rider turned her back to the Knight before finally stepping into the threshold of the mage’s home.

It was quiet but he still heard her speak under her breath. “I’m disgusted that you’d even think we were remotely the same.”

“Come, Arnie.” She called out to her companion who diligently followed his rider into the manor.

“Dionne, wait!” Ashton had moved too quickly and groaned at the soreness of his injuries. It was at that moment that he was reminded that to get Calum home to the capitol, he was at the mercy of the bandits and their help—which included the somehow resentful lady bandit.

As the Knight rushed after the Gryphon Rider, to make some sort of amends, the white mare, Peggy, let out a noise. Her rider called out his return to her in a moment.

It was when Ashton disappeared into the home that the horse’s ears twitched—at the slight rustle of the bushes outside.

—

“How long has it been, Luke? Since the family reunion?” Garrick laughed at the white mage—Luke’s teeth gritted and brows furrowed. “Some kind of family—what is the meaning of this, Garrick?” The crystals in Luke’s circlet began to burn even brighter—matching the burning rage brewing within him.

Garrick ignored the Mage’s question, fully. “Emperor Lorian has some big plans for this place—” the General’s eyes shifted to the Prince.

“—and even bigger plans for you, your Highness.”

Calum unsheathed Zephir from its scabbard. “Well, he’ll have one hell of a time.”

To everyone’s surprise, Calum suddenly lunged forward, slashing at Garrick with his magick blade. At the General’s cry, more grunts entered the room so Michael and Luke also went into battle.

The Prince parried the attack returned to him by Lorian’s General while the Bandit King charged into the midst of imperial soldiers, his battleaxe, Chasm, wreaking havoc on the enemy’s numbers. The Mage was right on the Bandit’s tail. Thanks to the circlet, his already deep magick was amplified tenfold. He was able to cast spell after spell to not only keep the fight in his favour but brought him closer to his unconscious cousin.

The Prince matched Garrick blow for blow, channeling his anger and hate for the man.

“You fight well—” the General dodged a swipe aimed for his neck. “—just like your father though I’m sure you remember how that ended.” He jeered, seeing Calum’s expression at the reminder. Garrick used this opportunity to strike.

With a gasp, the Prince fell to one knee as a searing pain shot through his leg. The cut, made by Garrick’s heavy blade, was deep—the Royal’s blood spilling onto his pant leg and the floor of Delara’s ballroom.

“As much as I’d like to finish you off myself, I was actually here for another reason.” Garrick smirked at the kneeled Prince as he made his way back to the Black Mage—thought forgotten on the floor.

“Dela!”

Michael and Luke had been so close—successfully battling their way towards Delara—but the Easentian General had gotten to her first.

Garrick’s eyes gleamed with malice and something else. “I didn’t leave her soon enough so she knows too much.”

Calum could only gape at the scene as Garrick lifted Delara by her dark hair and he saw the birthmark on her arm, in the shape of a heart, as if it were almost mocking him.

Amidst the cries of battle, the resounding noise of gallops filled the ballroom when Garrick was suddenly rushed by a black blur.

Michael dived for the Black Mage—successfully catching her before she hit the ground. He cradled her as he looked up to find that it was one of the twin knights and his black stallion who plowed over the Easentian General.

Garrick narrowly escaped the plunge of the stallion’s hooves to his chest, if it were not for the figure who appeared out of thin air.

Her blonde hair fell in waves over the rich wine-coloured velvet of her dress as she delicately held the General by his shoulders, on the floor. “It seems you’re in a bit of trouble, Garrick.”

The General sneered at the Witch’s taunting gaze. “I have it under control.”

Estelle’s eyes surveyed the area. A number of their soldiers were down—outdone by a mere bandit and the white mage. The Prince, though injured, was still alive. The Emperor needed to be notified.

“Let us take our leave.”

Before they could be stopped, both General and the Empire’s Court Magician disappeared in wisps of smoke.

—

“...L-Lu?”

The Bandit peered down, only to be captivated by bright blue eyes—unlike those of the White Mage yet somehow the same. It was probably due to their close ancestry.

“Not quite, sweetheart but he’s on his way over.”

Though the mage cursed as he watched Garrick and the Witch escape, it was forgotten at the sound of his cousin’s voice.

“Thank you, Bandit.” Luke gathered the barely conscious—but thankfully alive—Delara, gently from Michael’s grasp. He smiled at his cousin as she tiredly grinned back.

“We can call it even, Mage.” Michael replied, referring to the help he had received earlier from Luke in town. He gazed at the two mages, the blond beginning to look over the dark brunette for injuries that needed immediate tending to—the warm glow of Luke’s magick enveloping the girl. The Bandit watched them for a moment, smiling at their reunion before turning his attention to one of the twin knights. “Great timing, Rome! You saved the princess—er, Black Mage.” Michael gave the boy a heavy pat on the back which made him lurch forward—not expecting the force on his armor.

Heat rushed to the young boy’s cheeks at the praise. “Thank you Sir Bandit but—” He laughed, the crinkles by his eyes becoming apparent. “—I’m actually Remy.”

Rome, who joined the group with an arm slung around Calum, to support the Prince’s leg, jeered at the bandit’s apologies to his baby brother of five minutes.

For the first time since arriving to the Black Mage’s home did Calum crack a smile at the scene in front of him. Although Garrick had escaped with Estelle, they were fortunate enough to have not lost anyone on their side during battle, most especially Delara.

As the twins continued to joke with Michael, a sudden thought came to the Bandit’s mind. “Hey, how did you two know we’d be here?” Last he checked, the twins were in charge of bringing the people of the South end to safety.

The twin knights stopped their banter and looked at each other with a grin.

“Actually—” they began, in unison.

—

Dionne aimlessly roamed the hallways of Luke’s manor. She had left Arnie to feast in the White Mage’s kitchen. She happened upon a large painting—a family portrait, it seemed—that included the scion of the South and who she assumed were his parents and brothers. She was lost in their brush stroked smiles when a hand suddenly covered her mouth. Before she could utter a word, a soft hush and warm breath caressed her cheek. Dionne relaxed when she was pulled around the corner of the hall and realized it was the Head Knight of the Third Cavalry when she caught his reflection in a decorative vase stood on a pedestal next to the painting. She angled her head to hear as Ashton let her go and let out a sigh. The worried expression on his usually calm facade did not bode well with her.

In a low tone, he uttered, “we’re not alone.”

—

Tagged: @irwinkitten @calpops @rosecoloredash @gorgeouslygrace @rainingcalum @cashton-dolan @lockthisheartinchains @lovableah @cals-eyebrows @quintodosuniversos

[marysunburn]

For the BadThingsHappenBingo: “Forced to Kneel/Bow”, with Gwynevere, Queen of Lothric and Oceiros the Consumed King. 

Proposed by: @reaper-apologist-andromeda Set in: author’s verse. Characters: Gwynevere, Queen of Lothric, Oceiros the Consumed King, Gertrude the Heavenly Daughter. Ship: Gwyneiros TW: humiliation, body horror, blood, spit, excrements, unsettling scenario Notes: crossbreed!Oceiros

Synopsis: Gertrude and her Winged Knights have won the civil war, and this time it’s the king and queen that have to share the cage. But this is just the beginning of what the Heavenly Daughter and her army have in mind for them.

His eyes are so wide and wet, the bars of the cage seem to reflect into the blue irises. -My love?- Gwynevere tries, huddling closer into her blanket. The following silence is only broken by Oceiros’ panting and groaning. But no words. -Osi?- she tries again. His fingers grab onto the bars, shaking like reeds in the storm. Even his tail – a motionless lump of cartilage the length of his arm – is still, and the short wings he hides beneath his penal tunic are so folded they can barely stick out from under the fabric. He’s lost, as if another cage was shut around his mind, shielding away every noise and thought. His eyes are open, but they aren’t looking at anything. Not at her, not at the ceiling, not at his own shaking hands, long nails lacquered in blue – the right index is cracked, and a trail of blood runs to his elbow. He doesn’t seem to mind. Nor does he raise his gaze to the door, when a Winged Knight opens the door and raises his halberd at them. -The time has come. Do not make this more difficult for yourself.-

The white silk feels like frost on Gwynevere’s shuddering skin. The bell-shaped sleeves of her dress widen at the stroke of wind. Another Winged Knight, at least six axes dangling from his belt, wraps a belt of gold around her waist, pulling at it with arms as big as logs. Gwynevere whines in pain as the buckle is cinched. -Too tight…- she attempts, but it’s like talking to a statue. Her skin burns as if the belt was made of thorns. But even if she could speak, she remains in silence as her hair are roughly pulled back. Tears escape her eyes, but she clenches her lips just enough to keep her wail inside her throat. They wrap a chain of gold around her wrists and pull at it as if it was mere rope. She has worn that thing at the twins’ last name day, she remembers as she’s pulled upwards. Her skin tenses, erupting in goosebumps under the paper-thin silk. Her bare feet, cuffed to one another with a second necklace of hers, are even colder. And a golden collar holds onto her neck – like a hand trying to choke her – keeping her chin high enough to no longer see herself anymore. But them: they are all over the place. She conjoins her hands as if she was praying.

Every Winged Knight looks the same to her – still, she searches upon her faces as if Lothric and Lorian could be hiding in their muscular bodies. She shuts her eyes out of instinct as the tip of a halberd is pushed against her back. When she opens them again, Oceiros is by her side – and a stain of blood seeps from his side, from under his own belt, staining in purple his blue silk tunic. His hair are tied in a ponytail, so that he cannot hide the aquamarine scales that dot his face. The biggest, at the bottom of his cheekbones, are the size of his thumbnail; but most of them, from afar, could pass for common moles. Except they’re blue, and they glow like glass. His horns, as long as the blade of a Throwing Knife, look even sharper without the stray hair to hide them. -Hey.- she attempts. She almost jumps as he actually answers. -I can’t…- He sounds hushed, and this is enough to startle her yet again. It must be the too-tight belt – it must be. Oceiros doesn’t whisper. Oceiros doesn’t hide himself. He blinks frantically, avoiding her gaze. Only then does Gwynevere notice his tunic is backless, and his short and crooked wings, the color of rotten fish, are bare for the world to see. -It’s alright, my dearest. I’m here. Breathe.- -I must look down. I can’t. I can’t go there.- Gwynevere gulps, shifting to his side. -You are strong. We are strong.- -I am the king.-. The closest thing to a growl in a time that feels endless. It’s as if Oceiros is another man entirely, hiding within the trembling wreck she sees, clawing and pushing to get out. -I am the king. I can’t do this. I can’t. She’s ruining me.- -Only if you let her.- The tips of her fingers stroke the side of his. Oceiros doesn’t hold her, though. A tear runs down his cheek and shatters on his chest, next to the bloodstain. Before she can say anything, the gates are opened, and the collective screaming of the crowd reaches them like a tidal wave. And she can feel Oceiros sink.

-…corruption, deceit, and heresy.- The speaker’s voice seems to come from another plane entirely. Gwynevere keep her head high – and what else can she bloody do, with those accursed necklaces keeping their chins from lowering – and intakes the cruel words as they come, in religious silence. -Bring them out!-. A voice she doesn’t recognize, but with the wrath of an entire army of new enemies. -Push them down!-. -All hail the Divine Light!- And the light is there, the morning sun turning her gown into blinding white, and the door is opened, and she and Oceiros are walking through the courtyard towards where Gertrude is. With two waves of townsfolk screaming at them as if they were the lowest of scum. -Shame!-. A voice shrieks. -Heretics! Heathens! Sinners!- -Destroy the sinners! End them!- -May the Flame fade!- -I hope a lightning strikes you, king reptile!- -Not so great now, are you?- -All hail the king and queen!- A man in a red cape leans his face towards Oceiros and screams “hail to the king” into his ear, so loud even Gwynevere winces at the sound. Two people, their faces covered by Thrall Hoods, stomp and jump on Oceiros’ tail, and cackle as he groans and pants in pain. Another tries to grab his buttocks, but the Winged Knight spears him from one side to the other. -We mustn’t soil ourselves with sin, remember this much. These two are impure.- Soon enough, a fifth man’s hand grabs her arm, and the swift throw of an axe takes off his whole head. The blood sprays on her white dress like against the snow. And her skirt becomes as heavy as a whole set of armor – heavier and heavier for every new throw of Dung Pie, every new pull at her hair and his, and every new drop of spit that reaches her cheeks and eyes. -End them!-, they repeat. -Burn the heretics!- -Draconic scum! Freak!- -Atone to the First Sin! Shame on the Great Lord and his brethren.- If my father saw what you are doing to me, Gwynevere thinks, all of your faces would melt against the flame of his sword. Some of them bow at their passage, grinning, clapping. It feels wrong. Like a dream, from which not her nor him can wake up. Gertrude wears her hair in two ponytails, and her white eyes are cold. She can’t see, nor speak, but her face says all they need to know. -Gwynevere, spawn and follower of Lord Gwyn.- a Winged Knight at their side proclaims. Gwynevere keeps her gaze high, breathing lightly, her ears still ringing from the screams into her ear. -Supporter and preacher of the First Sin, corruptor of Their Highnesses King Lothric and Prince Lorian.- So we’re truly erased. Gwynevere can’t turn her head, but her eyes catch just enough of a glimpse of Oceiros to see that he’s one step away from fainting. If there’s some sheer willpower in her favorite, proud man, he’s using it no doubt to keep himself awake. There’ll be consequences, if he misses his atonement. His world is upside down, and not even she can lead him through. -Oceiros, heretic and heathen, faithful of the wretched Path of the Dragon. Abomination, crossbreed and blasphemer. Corruptor of Their Highnesses King Lothric and Prince Lorian.- -No, no, no, no, no…- -Quiet.- she hisses at him before any of them can. The winged girl conjoins her hand, as the Winged Knight that was speaking proceeds. -Your reign is over, and so are the sins your lies are spreading. For your opposition to the Angelic Faith, and having spread the falsehood of the Linking of Fire, you are declared guilty. The endless mercy of your sons keeps you alive, sinful woman. And you…- the Winged Knight stops, staring at Oceiros as if his scales, horns, wings and tail were also made of Dung pie. -…you… crossbreed thing. Thank the kindness and grace of the great Pontiff Sulyvahn that you’re not resting in a grave of Gold Pine Resin.- Lust can take many forms: it can even disguise itself as kindness and grace, if so it wishes for. Gwynevere’s heart pounds inside her chest. That cage is too big for two already: if she loses him as well, she will drown in it before she even knows. -Your atonement is complete. Soon enough, your sins will be mended. You will live the rest of your lives in seclusion, atoning and reflecting upon your copious mistakes.- Gwynevere licks her dry lips, her neck stinging as if jaws were clasping themselves around it. -Now the time has come to renounce your throne and declare submission to the Angelic Faith. Kneel, and this will all be over.- She’s too rigid to even open her mouth. A moment of cold silence follows the order, while she repeats it into her mouth as if it was spoken in a language different from her own and she was trying to figure out what it meant. She glimpses at Oceiros, holding one hand into another, fingers so pale it seems as if the skin is no longer, and it’s the naked bone that glistens at the blinding light. As well as the scales. -I don’t recall…- she finally chokes out. -Kneel.- the voice repeats. -Your pride is over. Faithless nobles will no longer force their desires upon the smallfolk. Refuse the light, and you won’t deserve to see above yourself ever again.- If Oceiros is still shedding tears, she can only tell from the quaking of his shoulders, for his face is so damp in spit it looks as if he had just been washing himself. -Come on.- Gwynevere says, to whom she can’t tell. Her knees push against the skirt as she falls to the ground, sniffing. Soon it will be over, she reminds herself. The cage is no pleasant bed, but it’s secluded, and quiet, and warm enough, and Oceiros is there… Oceiros. His blue hair glitter like water itself as he shakes his head. -No.- he mutters. -No. I can’t. I’m the King of Lothric. I don’t kneel to ANYONE!- Is he talking to them, or to himself? And he’s screaming: because he’s a fool, and religious people bring out his worst. Gwynevere opens her mouth to call for him, but the Winged Knight’s hand comes first. And the sound of the slap is loud enough to ring through the square. Oceiros sinks next to her, not even a scream as his long hair fall upon his face. Two hands, covered in golden gauntlets, hold him in place. But as he is now, he probably doesn’t feel them. Face buried between his bound palms, back arched and shuddering, her beloved sobs like a child, the blood from his tight belt running to the white tiles like a stream. Gertrude doesn’t seem to notice he exists anymore. And when she calls the names of Lothric and Lorian, where they are, how they are, she realizes she too, no longer, is seen.

The cage is silent, but the soft wind above the rooftop seems to sing a soothing melody to Gwynevere’s tired ears. -My love?- -It’s over. I’m done for.- Oceiros is a stain of white and blue in the furthest corner of the cage. Gwynevere breathes lightly, every new intake of air a stab wound to her already mangled side. Her palms and knees are sore against the bars underneath, and every new crawling motion seems to take an entire Age. At least the bloody belts are gone, as well as the collars. Their old penance clothes are as coarse as Lothric’s own tunic – and Gwynevere wouldn’t be surprised if they were actually made from the same material – but at least they are straightforward in their hatred for the two of them. -Oceiros.- Her words are cut short by a sudden shot of pain. -It’s alright. We’re alone. It’s over.- He’s at but an arm from her, but there’s no room for any Gwynevere in the world where he’s locked into now. -I’m here, Osi.- she tries again, but his deep voice is muttering only to himself. -The lineage is ruined. Disgraced. Humiliated. The king, having to kneel…- Gwynevere curls up by his side, wrapping her arm around his thin side. But it’s like embracing a statue, as he doesn’t even raise his gaze. Only his wings, covered by the coarse fabric, seem to recognize her, shaken by a sudden flutter like a last drawn breath. -My ancestors will be ashamed. I am ruined. The annals…- A king of Lothric is proud, and so are scholars and dragons. Oceiros is all three. And the higher one places themself, the lower they fall. And that poor thing that she’s now wrapping her arm around is sinking further and further into himself, like her old friend Artorias into the Abyss that tore him away from his beloved. The mere thought makes her feel like she’s sinking too. The night sky looms over them, like a whole new crowd with a new set of clean eyes. That glitter just as much as those of the man she loves. -You can gaze at the stars with me.- she whispers. -I believe you know the names of each one.- -I’m done for. Disgraced. The legacy is ruined.- He winces as she removes strands of blue hair, stained in so much sweat they look like strings of metal, from his pale and tense face. -Don’t.- he begs. -I’m ruined. Childless. Unworthy.- -So am I.- Her tone is firm, the closest thing to queenlike she had experienced in recent times. Oceiros’ eyes shed two more tears, and a spark of clarity seems to surface from beneath the wide pupils. -My dearest.- she says. -Don’t cry.-   She pulls him close and cradles him, his face hidden into her chest – so that for a while at least, he can forget about where, who and why he is. She falls asleep at the sound of his sobs, her hands tangled into his hair, and his tail wrapped around her legs like a second blanket.  

[thewildthewarlikeandthewoebegone]

I made a file for Lothric in Dark Souls 2 (and wrote up a thing about the storyline I developed for it, here [xxx]), but why finish one project when you can start more projects to sporadically switch between, endlessly?  So I made Lothric in Dark Souls 3.  He’s still astral projecting, but he’s not playing around with history this time.  Being chased by endless unkillable foes, forever, who are persistent enough to get around literally any obstacle, is starting to drive him up the wall.  The world will end soon anyway, but he’s too mad to wait that long.  And the chance that somebody could kill him while they’re all waiting for the sky to fall is absolutely unacceptable.  He’s quite good at astral projecting after spending a lot of his adolescence worming his consciousness into the past to escape his home life, so why not assume the role of an ashen one and kill all of those dusty re-risen goddamn Lords of Cinder himself (how hard could it be)?  He already has his own soul.  If he can become the one who holds the power to link the flame, the only one, he can choose to smother it.  Even if the cycle can be reset if someone links the flame (which isn’t a given), that will only create an environment where those in power will make another Lothric, another sacrifice, to see if it can be done yet again.  Reality is so far gone that the cycle can’t be sustained without treating people like kindling, baking suffering and dehumanization into the very DNA of the world.  It’s time for a cycle like that to die.

The firekeeper knew exactly what he was from the start - knew exactly who he was - but she is so committed to her sacred duty to indiscriminately assist ashen ones that she can’t bring herself to do anything but help him.  At first she had a brief flash of disbelieving hope that he’d sent this projection to her to turn himself in, but then it smiled at her and played coy about being an ashen one on a quest to link the flame.  If he wanted to link the flame, he had no reason not to be straightforward.  The only thing left for him to be after is an age of dark, and all the firekeeper can do is hope that he fails, or is killed by a true champion before he succeeds.  Firelink Shrine is a tense, tense place when Lothric is around, and the others who take refuge there have no idea why.  Everything’s going exactly according to Lothric’s plan, in other words.  

Since Lothric and Lorian’s souls are linked, they actually both pilot the projection like a Jaeger from Pacific Rim, or like the sensate from Sense8.  Lothric has more say in how it looks and what it does because it’s his magic that created it, but there’s a lot of Lorian in there too.  With Lothric skilled in magic and Lorian skilled in melee weapons, they have a lot of bases covered.  Lothric’s not used to sharing his astral projections, so he’s a little miffed about that.  Lorian’s used to approaching combat using a body that has more strength and stamina, so he’s a little miffed about the lost potential and the strong need for caution.  It’s an effective partnership, but not a seamless one.  They’re very different people.

Lothric didn’t know he’d find Emma on the High Wall.  There was a time he trusted her, a time he didn’t know better than to trust her and fancy she cared about his well-being.  But she’s just like the others, and always has been.  What’s worse, she firmly believes that forcing him to link the flame is “helping him.”  He wasn’t prepared to meet Emma, not there, not then.  But perhaps the worst part was, she didn’t even recognize him.  Lorian quickly guided their projection away.

Lorian wanted to teach Lothric how to fight Vordt like a knight.  Lothric wanted to summon somebody else to fight Vordt like a knight, so he could hang back and shoot magic at the thing... that’s how he’s always done it when he and Lorian fight ashen champions.  They’re very different people.

The game will inevitably present a boss fight with the “actual” Lothric and Lorian, but I can decide things and just like that it’s not part of the story’s canon?  In the canon of the story, they’ll go out of their way to get the projection they’re piloting to their actual hideout, but only so they can give it a cool sword.  Lothric can only astral project his consciousness, he can’t send tangible objects through the link.

You can jump onto Lothric’s throne at Firelink Shrine and sit in it, so that’s Lothric’s resting spot for when I exit the game.  I imagine he likes sitting up there like it’s... well, like it’s a throne.  Just a humble, ordinary ashen cleric, definitely on a journey to kill that bastard Lothric instead of usher in an age of dark.  His lazy, vicious confidence makes the firekeeper extremely nervous.

You don’t find Lothric’s outfit until late in the game.  I figure Lothric starts out by posing as an ashen cleric because he doesn’t want everybody to immediately know who he is.  By the time the game hands out his actual outfit, that signifies the point where he’s so confident in his purpose and his eventual success that he doesn’t give a shit anymore if people know.  That being said, his commitment to not obviously being Lothric doesn’t necessarily sync with a commitment to being perfectly unremarkable.  If you’ve spent your whole life not having to wear pants, it’s not an imposition you will ever be prepared to take kindly to.  Lorian points out delicately sometimes that wearing pants with that cleric robe would actually lead to taking less damage from something like Vordt (who he definitely knows how to fight with a melee weapon, and maybe they could just...) but Lothric is adamant that if Lorian wants an astral projection that wears pants, he’d better get started right away figuring out how to make his own.  The devs actually recorded a devious little slapslapslap sound for bare feet, a truly mischievous sound, which I imagine they made for me, personally, to augment this playthrough specifically.

[boredofcinder]

III, V, VII

III .     Are there any clothing items and / or fabrics your muse does not like? And why is that so?

Lothric wears the same rags he’s worn his whole life because he’s used to it, & he doesn’t have the energy to break a habit if they’re all going to die anyway.  So he doesn’t like anything but the one outfit, from a practical standpoint.  In the theoretical case where he does get a chance to really heal & grow & it does make sense to get used to wearing other things, he has a solid preference for skirts, robes, etc. over pants.  He’s probably going to end up dressing like a bold & quirky art major once he figures it out.  I think Lorian has pretty rigid self-enforced rules about what he should or shouldn’t wear, mostly based on what he learned growing up.  Lothric is more interested in figuring out how to not feel he has to always wear the same thing than Lorian is interested in figuring out how to let himself dress more casually etc.  

V .     What kind of books are most likely found in your muse’s apartment? What genre? How often has your muse read those books? And how are they sorted / stored?

Lothric reads a lot of romance, drama, and occasionally thriller type stories.  If characters are being dramatic and might even kill each other, he probably wants to read about it.  He was never in a position to be part of a community, he has to make up for lost time.  Lorian studies more than he reads fiction.  He traveled to a lot of places with the army & only really questioned his father’s motives after the fact.  He loved traveling a lot, and he wants to learn more about the places he saw.  It’s the least he can do to even begin to address the harm he caused, before he dies.

VII .     What does your muse’s wardrobe look like? Is it big, small, stuffed, sorted? Do they actually wear all of the clothing items they have?

Lorian has a lot of clothes, but he stores most of it in the room that was his while he was a knight.  It’s actually hard to find clothes that fit Lothric because he’s very short for a godkin and very large for a human.  If he really needs to wear something besides what he usually wears (e.g. a winter coat), he’ll borrow Lorian’s clothes from when he was younger.

[bristidbits]

Emile

I never really knew my parents. My grandmother said that my mother dropped me off at her doorstep and never looked back.

That should have bothered me, but I never really cared about who they were. I mean often, I had thoughts of being the odd one out, but my grandmother quickly quelled those thoughts.

I wasn’t your stereotypical no parents story, but hell, sometimes I think that I might be.

Elementary and middle school was alright. Didn’t have any problems with doing just enough to pass. I wasn’t at the top of the class, but I was nowhere near the bottom of the class, I was just average.

High school’s practically where it went to shit because that’s when I started to get attracted to things. Just the wrong gender. No matter how many times I got flashed, or a girl opened her legs wide for me, I just couldn’t get it up. But put me in a shower with a bunch of hot guys, I was fucked.

So, there’s this guy, Lorian. Tall, blonde, and ripped to shreds. I was just the long-haired freak with glasses that loved to stare at boys over the cover of my book. Lorian was one of my constant targets. I even signed up to be the waterboy to get closer to him. I even snapped a few shots for the school newspaper when I was out there.

Head of the football team, top of the class, had a girl or two always on his arm.

But something never seemed right. My gaydar always went off whenever he was around. And I was right, because on the night of the Homecoming game, it happened.

Yes, girls and boys. Homecoming night, like all crazy stories you’ve heard, is the night that I lost my virginity. There was the typical celebratory muscle slapping chest pumps and butts, before everyone eventually retreated to the shower. I noticed that Lorian wasn’t there yet.

It must have been bad, just sitting there. No one noticed me really. Just went on about their day. I kept looking over my film, and before I knew it, the locker room had cleared out. For a second, I thought that I had missed him, that I wasn’t going to be able to see him naked.

But then, I barely noticed when he stood in front of me, even though I could feel his over-empowering shadow over me.

“Looking at the film from the game?” he asked, looking down at the camera.

I jumped. Obviously. A six foot four man coming in and I barely notice him?

“Lorian!” I said, “What are you doing here?”

He looked amused at me then looked around. “Locker room? Dirty? Gotta wash up?”

I felt like an idiot for a few moments before I noticed him looking at my camera.

“Got any good shots?”

I nodded, flicking through my shots to show him the one I took of him earlier.

“Really, good like...when you threw that pass to Harrison?” I cleared my throat when I felt my voice fading out. “ It was a nice shot.”

“Mm,” he said, looking down at the camera then back at me. He wasn’t moving. Didn’t seem all that interested in my camera anymore? Maybe he wasn’t at all?

Jesus...my mind started racing.

“Don’t you want to clean up?” I asked, glancing towards the showers then back at him.

“Yep,” he responded, taking off his shoulders pads and like the gods open up heaven themselves, took off his jersey.

Jesus. Fuck.

I couldn’t draw my eyes away from the six packs that were directly in my face. I could hear the deep chuckle penetrating my thoughts and then, I made the mistake of looking up, looking at his chest slightly moving faster, his eyes blown wide. And in that second, I knew.

I didn’t hesitate.

I leaned forward and dragged my tongue against the middle line of his abs, and he grunted and flexed. Must be a sensitive spot for him. Biting down a few times, I felt his hand curl in my hair, tugging slightly. I really didn’t know what I was doing, but I knew what I had always wanted to do since I saw him naked that first time.

I quickly undid the strings of his pants, pulling them and the jock strap underneath down. He sprang free in front of me. I don’t know why, but I dragged my tongue against his length. It should have disgusted me, considering the man had just played for more than an hour in tight clothes, and he smelled like earth and sweat.

But here I was, sucking his cock eagerly. A fucking virgin sucking his cock. He didn’t seem to mind it either, just using my hair as leverage to go faster as he whispered to me. He completely fucked my mouth that night, came hard into my mouth.

I remember the bitter taste of his cum, mixed with sweat and dirt. And then he pulled me up, asked me to take a shower with him and I obliged.

My first time didn’t really hurt that much given the water that was consistently running over our bodies. I must have cum two or three times that night alone.

After everything was done, I highly expected to have to walk or take the bus home, even if my ass was pounding from ...well, that pounding. But Lorian just shook his head, helped me dry off, put on some clothes before saying he was going to take me home.

He dropped me off at my grandmothers house, and before I was able to get off the car, he turned my head towards me, kissed me with enough passion to make me weak at the knees, before I got out of the car.

Even now, I don’t know what Lorian was thinking that night. We just kinda did, and continued to do. Every night after practice, I was slip in the showers so we could fuck. He’d take me home, kiss me, and say good night.

After a bit, I just thought that I was his fuck buddy on the side, and I didn’t really care about if I was or not. But eventually time came where he was thinking about moving across state. I had overheard it in one of the locker rooms. After everyone had left, he noticed how I looked sitting there.

I wasn’t pouting. I still to this day won’t say that I was.

But he just stroked my hair and kissed my cheek tenderly. Said that he wasn’t going to leave me.

I don’t know why I believed him, or why heart beat so furiously in my chest, but it did.

Our relationship changed after that. He started to meet me at my lockers, take me home from school, even met my grandmother. It was like we were dating, but never actually acquired the title.

I was so knee-deep in love with this man, that I barely noticed that my grand mother had been getting quieter and sicker.

She died one night when I was out on my first date with Lorian to the movies. I stayed home for a few months after calling the police to take the body away. It was a bit too much for me. Lorian came to stay with me, held me when I cried. I knew that he was going to be there for me.

Until, he wasn’t.

He received a full scholarship to play up state. He swore that he would keep in contact with me. And we did for a few months, before he slowly got out of contact. I only saw him on social media with his girl draped around him, and I just...I don’t know, I couldn’t take it anymore.

I had been living off what little my grandmother had saved, and I knew that if I didn’t get off my ass and do something soon, I was going to be homeless.

So, I got into the drug trade. Don’t ask me how, it just happened. I met this guy on the corner, asked how I could deal, and it just...happened. It was on one of my runs that I met Duck.

Or rather, got ran over and attacked by his army of fluffy dogs. My clothes had gotten trampled and my dinner had flown from my hand.

He apologized enough times that I swindled a date out of him. Watching him blush was the cutest thing that I had seen in the longest time.

One date turned into me getting his number. And then another. Soon after, I was kissing him under a tree in the park as he held so carefully onto my shirt.

For some reason, everything felt right. Holding him close to me, pressing my lips against his. I know it’s a silly thought, but underneath the stars, kissing him like that, I knew that everything was right.

We met up a few more times before I decided to make it official in one of those goofy ways. Or maybe not. I got on one knee with a promise ring, asked if he wanted to be with me for the long haul. He...passed out and hit his head, hard.

I spent my night in a hospital that night.

After that, we just worked. I never told him about what I did. I lied about my profession, said I was a tattoo artist of some sort and he never questioned me. I guess that it what I loved about Duck the most. He was always so open, so innocent.

We fought some times, but it was just that sort of annoying play type of fights. Like “Fuck you,” “I love you too” sort of thing.

I met his parents, but that didn’t go as well as planned, considering I got kicked out that day.

That’s why it hurt more when I got arrested for dealing. Apparently, one of my customers sold me out since I shorted him. I showed up with my goods, I was arrested, and I went in. I was too embarrassed to call Duck. I never wanted him to know that side of me. But he came to visit me in jail anyway. I was slated for a few years. I told him not to wait for me.

He got pissed and left.

I could understand that reaction. After all. I had lied to him. It might have been easier to be an asshole to him, to hurt him, to cheat on him.

But I did love him, and yet, I made a stupid decision that broke us off. It was almost two years when I got out for good behavior. Still, I had to check in with my probation officer every once in a while.

And then, I met Kian.

[cometcalloway]

LAYER ONE: THE OUTSIDE.

name: Lothric eye color: gray hair style/color: shoulder-length, straw-colored, often messy height: 6 ft.... for now....... when he’s 12 ft tall he’s going to have to like, get to know all his friends all over again clothing style: eccentric, comfortable, skirts > pants best physical feature: curse-warped claws are the ‘coolest,’ but all of them are the best because he’s still alive, which is incredible

LAYER TWO: THE INSIDE

your fears: death, other people/mob behavior, being powerless your guilty pleasure: what’s “guilty”? your biggest pet peeve: conventional norms your ambitions for the future: what’s “future”?

LAYER THREE: THOUGHTS

your first thought waking up: probably a ‘hello darkness my old friend’ at the usual background level of chronic pain what you think about most: safety what you think about before bed: probably a ‘hello darkness my old friend’ at the usual backgr you think your best quality is: self-advocacy, stubbornness (tenacity, thank you very much)

LAYER FOUR: WHAT’S BETTER?

single or group dates: positive attention is good in any context to be loved or respected: respect is the entry fee for being in his presence at all beauty or brains: self-determination

LAYER FIVE: DO YOU…

lie: rarely believe in yourself: more than anything believe in love: according to the evidence; but it’s vanishingly rare want someone: he is who he is, people can take it or leave it

LAYER SIX: EVER BEEN…

on stage: unfortunately endured the publicity of being a celebrated sacrificial-offering-to-be done drugs: [I don’t know] changed who you were to fit in: never again

LAYER SEVEN: FAVORITES

favorite color: maybe purple favorite animal: snakes, insects, animals people feel justified in killing favorite movie: I’ll have to come up with one for him favorite game: They haven’t bought a video game system, that’s a lot of money to spend on some high tech thing that’s incomprehensible

LAYER EIGHT: AGE

day your birthday will be: June how old will you be: I hc he’s 50-100 actual years old (enough time for Lothric castle to go from the seat of his father’s power when Lothric was born to the ruin you find it in at the start of the game), so still that range does age matter: not for whether a person deserves basic respect, yes for a lot of other things

LAYER NINE: IN A PERSON

best personality: when someone wouldn’t solve his oddly specific trolley problem by killing him to link the Fire (what other traits are there, honestly) best eye color: no preference best hair color: no preference

LAYER TEN: FINISH THE SENTENCE

I love: sometimes I feel: grief I hide: from harm I miss: things I never truly had I wish: to be safe, for Lorian to be safe

[cursedandcarried-blog]

∞ ♔ ± ღ

∞ = What does the character usually wear to bed?

Lothric wears his regular robes minus the shawl and hood, which are carefully set aside each night. Lorian has a loose, light set of pajamas that are simple cotton, a long-sleeved shirt and pants. He does not like sleeping naked, even on very warm nights. 

♔ = What size bed do they sleep on?

Lothric’s bed is HUGE, easily bigger than even a california king, since they were anticipating him being even larger than Lorian is. Lorian has his own bed of course but it’s a more reasonable size for his height. He almost never uses it though. This doesn’t even count the huge dais bed in the throne room behind the Archives, which is absurdly large, but it was meant to be more of a meeting place than somewhere to actually sleep.

± = How many pillows does the character usually sleep on?

There’s a bunch of pillows piled on Lothric’s bed, probably ten or so in varying sizes. He actually doesn’t use them himself, but Lorian likes to sleep propped up.

ღ = Are they comfortable sleeping in a bed that isn’t their own? (e.g. at hotels, other people’s homes, etc.)

As usual Lothric can sleep anywhere, even an unfamiliar bed, but Lorian will toss and turn for a week before he gets used to his surroundings. It makes travel tough for him.