#man how many people are in these I can tag

[liloinkoink]

[art by @martynsimp69]

hello to the, uh, 200+ new followers i've gained from trivia. im finally remembering to throw out a quick pitch for some of my fics to you lot. can i interest you in some lanterns

Lamplight AU

Lamplight a DnD-inspired fantasy renchanting/treebark au in which Martyn is a paladin-by-desperation and Ren is his god. if you've ever seen fanart of Martyn with a lantern / staff around, that's this!

Ren has lost his body and been left in the form of living fire, and Martyn has been separated from his adventuring party. the two of them are looking for a way to restore both of these, and doing a lot of arson in the interim. the fic is about 50k, most of which is "canon" storyline and the rest of which is "non-canon" ship fic. there's also plenty of cool art and even some animatics for the fic, all of which i absolutely recommend trawling thru the "lamplight au" tag for (on here or on my writing blog, @driflew, or checking the fanart tab on my blog). there are even a pair of spin off fics written by close friends of mine for desert duo and boat boys!

lamplight is written out of chronological order and uploaded whenever. work on it lately has been slow, but it's still ongoing

lamplight isnt my only fic (tho it is my favorite). i write a lot more renchanting/treebark aus, some of which ill list off here:

A Romance Route for the Doomed Villain?!?

(for the record. that title was NOT my idea). this au is also known as treesekai, or the treebark isekai dating sim parody oneshot. martyn is a normal man far too obsessed with the main antagonist of a poor-quality dating sim, the very same dating sim he's isekai's into. silly crack treated seriously parody fic as a love/hate letter to the many, many isekai webcomics ive read on webtoon originals over the years. it has a lot of rlly cool art and fic based of it, which you can find in the "treesekai" tag here or my writing blog

Treebark Week 2023

i also have a handful of oneshots from participating in every single day of treebark week around this time last year. these oneshots are for a bunch of different aus, such as a One Piece au, a beauty and the beast au, a lamplight roleswap au, a hero/villain au, a king/pirate au, and a mer au. all of these aus were developed with the help of other people (Rev for the One Piece au, and Cherri for the rest) and have other fics or art attached!

you can find bonus scenes from all of these aus, fanart or fan writing (including several page long comics or animatics), and even scenes from other aus i havent posted on ao3 over at my writing blog, @driflew, under the "lew writes" tag

uhhhhh. not sure how to wrap this one up. welcome to my home? woe treebark be upon ye

[novaursa]

Legacy (long live the king)

- Summary: Tywin was the man who saved you from Robert's wrath. He was also the man who doomed you.

- Paring: targ!reader/Tywin Lannister

- Note: Be aware how the timeline is all over the place and canon doesn't quite match some events of the story.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: strings of time

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @luniaxi

The Red Keep was quiet that morning, the soft hum of activity muted as you made your way through the winding halls toward Sansa’s chambers. The air smelled faintly of salt and stone, a familiar scent that seemed to linger in every corner of the fortress. You had waited a few days after the marriage between Sansa and Tyrion, giving her space to adjust to the reality of her situation. But now, your concern for her outweighed the necessity of distance.

Ser Barristan followed you closely, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword as always. His presence was a comfort, though you had grown so accustomed to it that you barely noticed him anymore. The two Lannister guards Tywin insisted on also trailed behind at a respectful distance.

As you reached Sansa’s chamber door, you heard the faint rustling of fabric and soft footsteps beyond. You lifted your hand to knock, but before you could, the door opened, revealing a young woman in simple garments, her hair pinned neatly back.

Shae.

The recognition was instant. You’d seen her before, flitting around Sansa as one of her attendants, her presence always discreet but strangely attentive. She froze when she saw you, her eyes widening briefly before she quickly lowered her gaze, her posture stiff.

“My lady,” she said awkwardly, dipping into a shallow curtsy. Her voice was polite, but there was a stiffness in her tone that didn’t escape your notice.

“Shae,” you greeted evenly, inclining your head slightly. “I see you’ve been attending to Lady Sansa.”

“Yes, my lady,” she replied, her words rushed. “I was just… bringing her fresh linens. She’s resting now.”

Her unease was visible, her hands fidgeting with the fabric of her skirts. You studied her for a moment, noting the way her gaze flitted away from yours, unable to hold it for long. There was something guarded in her demeanor, something that hinted at more than the role she claimed.

“Good,” you said finally, your tone calm but edged with curiosity. “Sansa needs someone she can trust.”

Shae nodded quickly, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Of course, my lady. I do everything I can for her.”

You let the silence stretch for a moment, watching as she shifted uncomfortably under your gaze. It wasn’t uncommon for people to act this way around you—your Targaryen blood, your place in the Red Keep, and your closeness to Sansa all carried weight that unsettled many. But with Shae, it felt different. More personal.

“Thank you for your service,” you said finally, your voice softening slightly. “Sansa speaks well of you.”

Shae blinked, a flicker of surprise crossing her face before she nodded again. “Thank you, my lady. I’ll… I’ll leave you to her now.”

She stepped aside quickly, her head bowed as she brushed past you. You watched her retreating form for a moment, your mind turning over what you knew—or suspected—about her. Her relationship with Tyrion was no secret to you, though you had never spoken of it. It was not your place, nor did you see any benefit in bringing it to light. But her discomfort in your presence was something you could not ignore.

“Interesting,” you murmured under your breath as you turned back to the chamber door. Ser Barristan gave you a questioning glance, but you shook your head slightly, dismissing his unspoken query.

You knocked gently on the door and waited for Sansa’s soft voice to call out, “Come in.” When you entered, you found her seated by the window, the morning light casting a golden glow over her auburn hair. She looked up at you with a faint smile, though her eyes were tired, shadows lingering beneath them.

“My lady,” she said, rising to her feet. “I didn’t expect to see you.”

You crossed the room quickly, taking her hands in yours and guiding her back to her seat. “Sansa, please. There’s no need to stand for me.”

She allowed herself to be seated, her smile growing a little warmer. “It’s good to see you.”

“And you,” you replied, pulling a chair closer to sit beside her. “How have you been?”

Sansa hesitated, her gaze dropping to her lap. “I… I’m fine,” she said quietly, though her voice lacked conviction.

You frowned slightly, leaning closer. “Sansa, you don’t need to lie to me. I know this has been difficult for you.”

Her lips trembled, and for a moment, you thought she might cry. But she took a deep breath, steadying herself before meeting your gaze. “Tyrion has been kind,” she said softly. “More than I expected. But it’s still… hard. Everything feels so wrong.”

You squeezed her hands gently, your voice filled with compassion. “I know. And I’m sorry. You deserved better than this.”

She shook her head, a single tear slipping down her cheek. “It’s not your fault. It’s just… it’s all too much sometimes.”

You reached out, brushing the tear away with a gentle touch. “You’re stronger than you know, Sansa. You’ve endured so much already, and you’ll endure this too. I’m here for you, no matter what.”

She nodded, her expression softening as she leaned into your touch. For a moment, the room was silent, the weight of unspoken words hanging between you.

Then, in a quieter voice, she asked, “Do you think�� do you think it will ever get better?”

You hesitated, knowing the answer she wanted but unable to lie to her. “I think it will take time,” you said carefully. “But you have allies, Sansa. People who care for you. Hold onto that.”

The room was modest by the standards of the Red Keep, tucked away in a quieter wing where the hum of courtly life was less invasive. You shifted in your chair, trying to find a comfortable position as your swollen belly made even the simplest task a challenge. Olenna Tyrell sat across from you, her sharp eyes glinting with their usual mix of amusement and calculation. To your irritation, Petyr Baelish lingered nearby, leaning casually against the stone wall, his lips curved in a faint, knowing smirk.

“This is an… interesting gathering,” you remarked, folding your hands neatly over your lap. “I wasn’t aware I’d been summoned for such unique company.”

Olenna chuckled, the sound dry but warm. “My dear, you flatter us. And here I thought you’d be delighted to spend time with two of the most intriguing minds in the capital.”

You arched an eyebrow, glancing briefly at Baelish before returning your attention to Olenna. “Intriguing, perhaps. But intrigue can be exhausting, and I’m in no mood for games.”

Olenna’s smile widened, and she leaned forward slightly, resting her hands on the head of her cane. “Very well, I’ll spare you the pleasantries. I love my granddaughter, you see. Margaery is as clever as she is beautiful, and she will make an excellent queen. But the king…” Her expression soured, and her voice dropped to a conspiratorial tone. “Joffrey is a menace. He’s dangerous, unstable, and entirely unsuited for the throne.”

Your gaze narrowed slightly, though you kept your tone neutral. “I cannot argue with that assessment. But why are you telling me this?”

“Because,” Olenna said, her eyes locking onto yours, “Joffrey is not just a threat to my granddaughter. He’s a threat to the realm, to all of us. Including you and your child.”

At her words, your hand instinctively moved to rest on your belly. The thought of Joffrey’s unhinged malice extending toward your unborn child sent a shiver through you, but you kept your composure. “I’ve no doubt he poses a danger to everyone around him,” you said carefully. “But what do you expect me to do about it?”

Olenna smiled faintly, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “I don’t expect you to do anything, my dear. I simply thought you’d like to know where certain parties stand.”

Baelish chose this moment to speak, his voice smooth and unhurried. “The queen-to-be is beloved, and her marriage will solidify her position. But with a king like Joffrey, beloved can quickly turn to forgotten, or worse. Surely, Lady Lannister, you understand the importance of securing the future for those we care about.”

You turned your gaze to him, your expression cool. “Spare me the riddles, Lord Baelish. If you have something to say, say it plainly.”

Baelish smirked, his head tilting slightly. “I merely observe. And my observations tell me that those who act swiftly tend to find themselves… in better positions.”

Olenna waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, enough, Petyr. She doesn’t need your oily little hints.” Her sharp gaze returned to you, softening slightly. “You’re here because you’re intelligent, my dear. And I value intelligence in a city that seems to have it in such short supply.”

You tilted your head, curiosity flickering in your expression. “And what exactly do you want from me, Lady Olenna?”

Olenna leaned back in her chair, her fingers tapping lightly on the head of her cane. “Nothing… yet. But tell me, what do you know of a certain poison called the strangler?”

The room seemed to grow quieter at her question, the weight of her words hanging in the air. Baelish’s smirk grew more pronounced, his eyes darting between you and Olenna with barely concealed amusement.

You met Olenna’s gaze steadily, your mind racing as you considered your response. Whatever game she was playing, it was clear you were now a part of it.

The grand hall of the Red Keep was resplendent, its banners and tapestries shimmering in the warm glow of countless candles. The air was heavy with the mingling scents of roasted meats, fresh bread, and spiced wine as the royal wedding celebration reached its peak. You sat beside Tywin, your back straight, your hands carefully folded over the swell of your belly. The weight of your pregnancy was a constant presence, but you refused to let it compromise your regal posture.

The crown of your braided hair shimmered faintly in the light, and you wore a deep crimson gown trimmed with gold, an unmistakable nod to your Targaryen heritage now blended with the Lannister lion. Tywin, ever composed, sat beside you, his expression an impassive mask as he observed the festivities. His sharp gaze missed nothing, though his attention occasionally flicked to you.

You let your eyes sweep over the hall, first landing on Olenna Tyrell, who sat further down the high table. The old woman caught your glance, her sharp eyes twinkling with mischief, and she gave you the faintest of nods. You inclined your head slightly in return, a silent acknowledgment of her presence before shifting your gaze to where Sansa and Tyrion sat.

Sansa’s expression was a mask of polite detachment, her hands folded tightly in her lap, though her eyes betrayed a flicker of sadness. Tyrion sat beside her, his goblet of wine barely touched, his mouth set in a grim line as he observed the revelry. Your heart ached for the girl who had once been like a sister to you, though you knew no comforting words could ease her current predicament.

Further along the table, you noticed Cersei, seated beside Tywin’s other side, her expression one of carefully cultivated disdain. Her green eyes occasionally flicked to you, though she said nothing, her attention mostly focused on the goblet of wine in her hand.

From the corner of your eye, you caught sight of Jaime, newly returned to the capital after his long captivity. He stood near the edge of the hall, his golden hand gleaming in the light as he exchanged a few quiet words with Ser Loras Tyrell. His presence was both familiar and strange, the absence of his sword hand a glaring reminder of how much had changed. He caught your gaze briefly, his expression unreadable before he turned his attention back to his conversation.

The royal couple was at the center of the hall, all eyes on them. Joffrey, resplendent in his golden tunic and crown, basked in the attention like a vain peacock, his laughter grating and overly loud. Margaery, ever the diplomat, played her role flawlessly, her smiles radiant, though her eyes occasionally flickered with calculated coolness. The crowd roared with approval as Joffrey raised his goblet to toast the union, his words dripping with arrogance as he mocked anyone and everyone who dared challenge his rule.

You shifted slightly in your seat, feeling a sudden, sharp pang in your abdomen. Your breath caught for a moment, and your hand instinctively rested on your belly. The pain subsided quickly, leaving only a faint ache, but it was enough to unsettle you.

“Is something wrong?” Tywin’s low voice broke through your thoughts, his sharp eyes already fixed on you.

You shook your head, forcing a faint smile to your lips. “All is well,” you replied quietly, your tone steady. “Just the usual discomforts.”

Tywin’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, his expression unreadable, before he nodded and turned his attention back to the proceedings. Despite his composed exterior, you could tell he was watching you closely, his concern evident in the way his hand rested subtly closer to yours on the table.

The hall erupted into applause as the wedding pie was brought in, a massive confection wheeled out by servants, its crust decorated with golden lions and roses. The guests leaned forward in anticipation, their cheers growing louder as the spectacle approached the high table.

You sat back slightly, allowing the momentary distraction to draw attention away from you. Your hand brushed over your belly again, the earlier pang still lingering faintly in your mind. You stole another glance at Sansa, who was watching the pie with detached politeness, her hands trembling slightly. Olenna, meanwhile, observed the scene with a faint smirk, her cane resting beside her as she leaned slightly forward.

As Joffrey stood, gesturing dramatically for his sword to cut the pie, you felt the weight of the moment settle over the room. You exchanged a brief look with Tywin, who raised an eyebrow as if to silently ask if you were still well. You gave him the faintest of nods, determined not to let anything mar the carefully constructed image of composure you had worked so hard to maintain.

The pie was set before the king, its golden crust glinting in the light as Joffrey raised his sword, a gleeful grin spreading across his face. The crowd held its breath in anticipation, and you felt a dread in the air that went far beyond the spectacle itself.

The young king held his sword aloft, grinning like a child about to open a prized gift. Margaery stood beside him, ever the picture of grace, her hands delicately clasped as she encouraged the crowd’s cheers with her radiant smile.

The blade came down with a dramatic flourish, slicing through the pie. A flurry of pigeons erupted into the air, their frantic wings scattering crumbs and flour as they soared over the assembled guests. Laughter and applause echoed through the hall, the spectacle delighting the nobles as Joffrey puffed out his chest, basking in their adulation.

Margaery reached out to pluck a piece of pie and lifted it to Joffrey’s mouth, her expression demure as she fed him. The young king accepted it with exaggerated relish, chewing loudly as the crowd continued to cheer. A goblet of wine was handed to Margaery by a servant standing near Olenna, and she, in turn, presented it to Joffrey with a delicate bow.

Your eyes flicked to Olenna for a fleeting moment, catching the faintest twitch of her lips as she turned her attention back to the spectacle. A chill ran down your spine as you realized what was about to unfold.

At the same time, another sharp pain shot through your abdomen, this one far more intense than before. You stifled a gasp, your hand flying to your belly as the sensation nearly stole your breath. Beside you, Tywin’s hand immediately found yours, his sharp gaze snapping to your face.

“What is it?” he asked in a low, urgent tone, his other hand already bracing your arm.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words were lost as the scene before you erupted into chaos.

Joffrey froze mid-laugh, his expression contorting into one of confusion and pain. His hand flew to his throat as he stumbled backward, knocking over the goblet of wine. The crowd’s cheers faltered, confusion rippling through the hall as the young king began to gag violently. His face turned a sickly shade of purple, and his eyes bulged as he clawed at his neck.

“Joffrey!” Cersei’s scream pierced the air as she rushed toward her son, her golden gown billowing behind her. She dropped to her knees beside him, her hands fluttering uselessly as she tried to help him. “What’s happening? Help him! Someone help him!”

The hall descended into chaos. Lords and ladies stood from their seats, some frozen in shock, others shouting orders or calling for the maesters. Guards pushed through the crowd, their armor clanking as they fought to reach the king.

Tywin rose to his feet, his hand never leaving yours as he pulled you up beside him. His tall frame loomed protectively over you as his sharp eyes scanned the room, assessing the situation with cold efficiency. “Stay close,” he commanded, his voice low but firm.

Another wave of pain rippled through you, this time so intense that you couldn’t suppress the gasp that escaped your lips. Your knees buckled slightly, and Tywin caught you immediately, his arm wrapping around your waist. His gaze snapped to your face, his eyes narrowing as realization dawned.

“You’re in labor,” he said, his tone clipped but tinged with alarm.

You nodded weakly, clutching his arm as another contraction seized you. The cacophony of the hall faded into the background as your world narrowed to the pain coursing through your body and the steady presence of Tywin beside you.

“Come,” he said decisively, his hand tightening around yours. “We’re leaving.”

Before you could protest, he began to guide you out of the hall, his movements quick but discreet. The guards who had been stationed nearby fell into step behind you, forming a protective barrier as Tywin led you toward the exit.

Behind you, the chaos in the hall reached a fever pitch as Joffrey convulsed on the floor, foam and blood spilling from his mouth. Cersei’s screams echoed through the space, her voice raw with grief and fury as she cradled her dying son.

“Don’t let anyone leave!” Cersei shrieked, her voice cutting through the noise. “He’s been poisoned! Find who did this!”

Tywin didn’t look back, his focus entirely on you as he guided you through the corridors of the Red Keep. Your breaths came in short, shallow gasps as the contractions grew stronger, each one threatening to overwhelm you.

“You should have told me,” Tywin said sharply, though his tone was tempered by the urgency of the situation. “You should have said something sooner.”

“There was no time,” you managed between breaths, gripping his arm tightly as another wave of pain hit.

Tywin muttered something under his breath, his expression hardening as he quickened his pace. “You’ll be taken to your chambers,” he said, his voice firm. “I’ll have the maester brought to you immediately.”

You nodded weakly, too focused on the mounting pain to argue. The world around you blurred as Tywin’s strong arm guided you forward, his presence a steady anchor in the chaos.

By the time you reached your chambers, the shouts and cries from the hall had faded into the distance. Tywin eased you into a chair, his hand lingering on your shoulder as he barked orders to the guards outside.

“Fetch Pycelle,” he commanded, his tone brooking no argument. “And send for the midwives.”

As the door closed behind him, Tywin knelt briefly at your side, his hand brushing yours. “You’ll be fine,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “Do you hear me? You’ll be fine.”

You nodded, gripping his hand tightly as the pain consumed you, trusting in his presence even as the world around you seemed to tilt into chaos.

The air was filled with the scent of herbs and sweat as your labor dragged on, each hour stretching endlessly as the midwives moved around you like shadows, their voices low and soothing. You gripped the edge of the sturdy wooden chair, pacing slowly across the room, refusing to give in to the pain that racked your body.

Your breaths came in sharp bursts, but you swallowed down every scream, refusing to let the agony reduce you to helplessness. A low yelp escaped your lips, and you bit down hard, your nails digging into the back of the chair as you braced yourself against the next contraction. The midwives followed you like silent sentinels, their hands hovering near but never daring to touch unless you allowed it.

Pycelle stood awkwardly to the side, his gray beard quivering as he wrung his hands. “My lady,” he began, his voice wheedling and nasal, “this is highly irregular. You should be lying down. I must examine you to ensure—”

“Out,” you snapped, your voice sharper than you intended, though the pain lent it an edge you couldn’t temper. “You will not touch me, Pycelle. I will not have your hands near me.”

Pycelle flinched but recovered quickly, turning his imploring gaze to Tywin, who stood near the hearth with his arms crossed, his sharp eyes fixed on you like a hawk watching its prey. “Lord Tywin,” Pycelle said, his voice bordering on desperation, “surely you understand the danger of allowing this to proceed without my expertise.”

Tywin didn’t even glance at him, his voice low and firm as he replied, “You will remain where you are, Pycelle. She has made her wishes clear.”

“But—” Pycelle began, only to be silenced by the slightest flicker of Tywin’s gaze in his direction, cold and unyielding.

The maester’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, but he wisely said no more, retreating to a corner of the room to stew in his indignation.

The contractions grew stronger, each one a wave of fire and steel that left you gripping the chair until your knuckles turned white. The midwives murmured encouragements, their hands deft as they prepared towels and basins of water. You moved methodically, pacing the chamber to distract yourself from the pain, your breaths hissing between clenched teeth.

“Lady Y/N,” one of the midwives said softly, “you’re progressing well. It won’t be much longer now.”

You nodded tersely, unable to summon the strength for words. Tywin remained silent, his presence a steady anchor in the room. You felt his gaze on you, assessing, calculating, but also something else—concern, perhaps, though he would never admit it.

A soft knock at the door broke the tense rhythm of the room. Ser Barristan opened it slightly, allowing Varys to slip inside, his silk robes whispering against the stone floor. His expression was unreadable, though his eyes carried a hint of urgency as he approached Tywin.

“My lord,” Varys said in a low voice, inclining his head slightly. “May I have a word?”

Tywin hesitated, his eyes flickering to you. You met his gaze briefly, nodding faintly to indicate you could manage without him for a moment. With a curt nod, he followed Varys out of the room, the door closing softly behind them.

In the corridor, the air was cooler, the sounds of the bustling keep faint in the distance. Tywin turned to Varys, his expression hard. “Speak.”

Varys leaned closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “The queen regent has accused your son Tyrion of poisoning King Joffrey. He has been arrested and taken to the dungeons.”

Tywin’s jaw tightened, but his voice remained calm. “And Lady Sansa?”

Varys hesitated, his hands clasped in front of him. “Gone, my lord. There is no trace of her. It seems she fled the Red Keep shortly after the chaos began.”

A flicker of irritation crossed Tywin’s face, though he quickly masked it. “And how is the queen?”

“Distraught, as you can imagine,” Varys replied, his tone neutral. “She demands swift justice. She believes Tyrion acted out of ambition, though… I am not certain she truly believes it. The accusation is convenient, nothing more.”

Tywin exhaled slowly, his eyes narrowing. “I will deal with it. Ensure that no further word of Lady Sansa’s disappearance spreads for now. The last thing we need is more speculation.”

“Of course, my lord,” Varys said, bowing slightly. “And… the lady within?” He glanced toward the door leading to your chambers.

“She will deliver safely,” Tywin said curtly, though there was a flicker of something softer in his tone. “Her child is my priority.”

Varys nodded, his expression unreadable as he straightened. “As you say, my lord. I shall see to it that the necessary measures are taken.”

Tywin watched him go, his mind already turning over the implications of Sansa’s disappearance and the precarious situation unfolding in the wake of Joffrey’s death. But for now, his focus was on you, the woman carrying his legacy. With a final glance down the corridor, he re-entered the chamber, his gaze immediately seeking you out as another contraction gripped your body.

You looked up at him, your face pale but determined, and for a moment, the chaos of the outside world seemed far away. Tywin crossed the room, standing at your side as the midwives worked diligently, his presence a silent promise of unwavering resolve.

The labor dragged on into the deep hours of the night. The room felt stifling now. You lay on the bed, propped up by pillows, your body drenched in sweat as the contractions came faster and harder. The midwives hovered around you, still murmuring words of encouragement, while Pycelle stood off to the side, his face drawn and pale with irritation.

“My lady,” Pycelle began again, his voice quivering with that patronizing tone you had come to loathe, “you must allow me to intervene. It is my duty to ensure—”

“Your duty?” you snapped, your voice sharp despite the pain coursing through you. Your hand gripped the edge of the bed, your knuckles white. “Your duty failed my mother. You call yourself a maester, yet you stood by while she suffered through endless labors—while her children died! I will not let you touch me.”

Pycelle flinched at the venom in your words, his beard trembling as he drew himself up. “That was many years ago, my lady,” he protested weakly. “I have gained much experience since then.”

“Enough,” Tywin cut in, his voice cold and final as he stood at the foot of the bed, his arms crossed. His sharp gaze pinned Pycelle in place. “She has made her wishes clear. You will not interfere unless absolutely necessary.”

Pycelle opened his mouth as if to argue but thought better of it, his jaw snapping shut with an audible click. He shuffled back into his corner once more, muttering under his breath.

Another contraction hit, and you bit down hard on the scream that threatened to escape, a low growl rumbling in your throat instead. The midwives rushed to your side, dabbing your forehead with a damp cloth and urging you to breathe through the pain.

“You’re doing well, my lady,” one of them said softly, her voice soothing. “It won’t be much longer now.”

You nodded weakly, your breaths coming in shallow gasps as you braced yourself for the next wave.

Just then, a knock at the door broke the tense atmosphere. One of Tywin’s personal guards stepped inside this time, bowing quickly before approaching him. He leaned in, murmuring something low and urgent into Tywin’s ear. Tywin’s expression hardened, and with a curt nod, he turned and left the room.

You watched him go, a flicker of unease curling in your chest, but the next contraction stole your attention, leaving you clutching the bed sheets as the pain consumed you.

Outside the chamber, Tywin strode down the corridor, his sharp footsteps echoing off the stone walls. He found Cersei waiting for him, her golden hair disheveled, her face flushed with anger. The fury in her emerald eyes was palpable, and she didn’t bother with pleasantries.

“How dare you leave us in the midst of this chaos?” she hissed, stepping forward to block his path. “Joffrey is dead, murdered before our eyes, and you—you—leave to tend to your new wife? Have you no shame?”

Tywin’s gaze was cold as he regarded her, his voice cutting like a blade. “Mind your tone, Cersei. This is neither the time nor the place for your dramatics.”

“Dramatics?” she spat, her voice rising. “My son is dead! The king is dead! And you abandoned the hall, leaving me to deal with the fallout!”

“Joffrey’s death was tragic, but it changes nothing,” Tywin said, his tone measured and controlled. “The succession is clear. Tommen will be crowned, and we will move forward. Your grief does not excuse insubordination.”

“Insubordination?” Cersei’s voice trembled with fury as she stepped closer, her hands clenched at her sides. “You dare speak to me of insubordination after you allowed this to happen? You left us vulnerable, him vulnerable, and now he’s dead! You failed him, Father.”

Tywin’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, a flicker of genuine anger crossed his features. “I failed him?” he repeated, his voice low and dangerous. “You forget yourself, Cersei. It was your indulgence, your inability to control him, that led to this. Joffrey was a liability, and you know it.”

“How dare you!” she hissed, her voice breaking. “He was my son!”

“And a disgrace to this house,” Tywin snapped, his voice sharp enough to cut. “You may grieve, but do not lay the blame at my feet. Joffrey was your creation.”

The argument had escalated into a full-blown confrontation, their voices echoing down the corridor as they hurled accusations at one another.

“You think you can replace him with Tommen? With that soft, malleable boy?” Cersei demanded, her voice trembling. “You think you can replace me with your Targaryen wife and her bastard child?”

Tywin’s eyes blazed with fury, and he stepped closer, his towering presence bearing down on her. “Mind your tongue, Cersei,” he growled. “You are walking a dangerous line.”

Before she could retort, a sharp, piercing cry echoed from the direction of the chamber. Both of them froze, the sound cutting through their argument like a knife.

“The child,” Cersei whispered, her face pale as she turned toward the sound.

Tywin’s expression shifted, the anger fading into something colder, more calculating. Without another word, he turned on his heel and strode back toward the chamber, leaving Cersei standing alone in the corridor, her face a mask of fury and disbelief.

[alieinthemorning]

Deepest, Darkest, Purest Love [Sylus] 

Content: World Underneath: Sealed in Dust Spoilers, Sylus Story Speculation, Angst, Soft Sylus, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert

Pronouns: None

Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don’t forget to like and reblog (and comment in the tags. I love seeing people’s rambles in the tags)!

This work’s concepts, plot and original characters are my own which means I do not allow any sort of creative theft nor do I allow my work to be entered into any sort of A.I. bots. Thank you for respecting my space and boundaries.

Sylus…was an enigma to you. After the Nest, the forced resonating, and being told that he wanted to achieve his goal, he needed you to like him in some capacity. Now, you’ve ended up here in one of his many safe houses, wrapped in his arms on the couch while some movie played. Domestic bliss as its finest, but how did you end up here? You knew that it wasn’t just him playing with your feelings while you hopelessly fell for it. No…you knew that his feelings for you were real. His actions and words, although not always obvious, were always clear in the intentions. 

“You know very well that I adore you. There is no love purer than mine.”

Despite how you acted toward him, or tried to deceive yourself. You knew you loved him. You loved this man something fierce. And honestly? 

It scared you—terrified you.

You understood that you and Sylus shared a past. One of your many pasts, over your many deaths. Unfortunately, you couldn’t remember much (not that you think you ever could). Since EVER had gotten their hands on you and the Aether Core, memories come up spotty and painful. You want to remember, you really do, but it doesn’t seem like you have an actual say in the matter. But from what you can remember…you’ve both died…many, many times. Pitted against each other for some reason or other, then forced to become close—fall in love, just to do it all over again—Oh.

Oh.

“You know very well that I adore you. There is no love purer than mine.”

You were pitted against each other for the Aether core. That’s what wants to devour him—this damned Aether Core. 

“Sweetie?” His thumb brushed against your under eye, catching the wetness there. “Why are you crying?” 

“I’m sorry!” You wail into his chest. “I’m so sorry for hurting you!”

“I’ve told you before that it was my fault for pushing you—” He grunted as you shoved away from him, shaking your head violently. 

“I’m talking about before! Way back when—I still don’t remember it all, but I know that I hurt you, so—” You looked up at him, tears caressing your waterline. “How can you love me so deeply?” 

“I’ve told you this once, and I’ll tell you as many times as you need.” He smiled, and you break. 

“You know very well that I adore you. There is no love purer than mine.”

You know, and you hate yourself for selfishly enveloping yourself in that love. 

A love you do not deserve. 

I was trying to do Soft Sylus, which! for the two lines that he speaks, he is in fact soft, so I'm counting it! But it ended up as angst regardless lol.

Now, let's get into what might be his Myth or one of his many pasts with you. I think that the two of you were pitted against each other for the Aether Core. Whoever the hell had y'all fighting wanted to make one of you stronger, and having one kill the other for the core seemed a lot more fun than just choosing one. But! I don't think it worked, y'all got tired of fighting and choose not to take arms when it was time, which not the best idea because you'd be punished, but hey, it did eventually get the message through to them. However, they took another approach, which was getting the two of you closer, so when they did pit you two against each other again, one of you would have to throw your life down for the other, and in this case…it was Sylus.

At least! That's what I'm thinking lol. Just a little theory!

I'm on Bluesky btw~

Ko-Fi | Masterlist

[ranticore]

Now that you mentioned it in the tags; I really enjoyed how you did the queerness of characters in-text and I saw you mentioned more than once before how they consider/call themselves gay or anything and I was wondering if you'd be willing to elaborate on that (in Ironwall, MVF etc), but more from a writing standpoint than a worldbuilding one. Hope Im making sense lol

i looked up the invention of the word 'homosexuality' and found that it was invented 6 years after stbh is set

ghksjdg i mean there's more to it than that but it meant that my language was constrained, which also means that the characters' language is constrained as well. i have to think about ways i want this to come across to the reader. at the time i was thinking about how the basic concept of "btw this character is not straight/cis" is communicated in some of the stories i'd read, and one that stood out to me was a comic i read in a fully fantasy setting where the writer brought the narrative to a juddering halt to explain exactly how gender & sexuality are handled by the people here. as in the characters essentially turn to the camera and give the main character a lecture. i really didn't like it, the author's hand was too visible behind the panels.

but i took it as a learning exercise as well on what i didn't want to do. i didn't like the neon signs pointing at any instance of non-heteronormativity and i also don't like stories that market themselves based on the characters' gender identities, particularly stories which do not involve a coming-of-age/character learns to discover themselves narrative. it's a book about two trans men but it's not a book about being trans. that's none of the reader's business, that's hidden from you (particularly in islin's case, intentionally). i never wanted to foster a sense of voyeurism towards trans people particularly knowing that most readers, statistically, will not be trans. crucially the characters are stealth to literally everybody but like 3 people. their transition is done.

i never wanted a coming out moment, or an "i'm here i'm queer" moment either - not even because Society in the setting just because i don't like those things. to completely normalise it in the narrative between these characters is the goal - almost to the point of never even pointing it out at all except when it has to be. the vibe i wanted was like... hanging out in not necessarily a gay space, but with gay people, talking about random other stuff. i didn't even like the One coming out scene i had to put in (senca being like "i only fuck women" to bowman so that he would stop hitting on her)

so when writing i had a pretty good idea of what i didn't want. for the setting i had some strict rules to follow as well. characters would not identify as gay or bisexual or even some fantasy equivalent because those were not identities, they were acts. and heterosexuality wasn't an identity either, it wasn't even "the natural way of things", it was the means by which wealth could transfer between generations. if you do not marry, then you are not conforming to your gender. the four unmarriagable men in mvf are all denied entry to normative manhood for many de-gendering factors (disability, unmanly hobbies, vow of chastity, etc) but the culmination of those factors is that they can't marry, which is the whole POINT of being a man. three of them are entirely denied generational wealth - forcing them into poverty (it's not a coincidence that gay people are overrepresented in the criminal organisation)

from a writing standpoint this leaves them in a grey zone. when writing i tried out different language to see if it read nice to me (19th century equivalents to 'boyfriend' etc) and they all rang quite false, because outside of the whole 'can we put a label on something that doesn't officially exist in society' thing, the characters themselves are not the types of people to think that way. Bowman was dating Léa but he was never dating Félix. you can't date another man. the only people who date men are women, and Bowman is not a woman. therefore he is not dating Félix. to give just one example. ultimately for the language used i found that just leaving it as-is worked the best for me.

so after working all that out i wrote tha thing and then wanted to kind of explore - at what point does it become romantic? is there an actual border between romantic and platonic when you've kind of already fallen between the cracks in society into the grey zone where nothing is defined because it doesn't affirm the power of the ruling class. and in these particular friendships, where they've already been all things to one another, they've already done everything together, good or bad, does adding 'romantic love' to that list of things wildly recontextualise it retroactively or does anything change at all? just like the ending reveal of stbh says: who actually is the guy we've been thinking of as 'félix ortega' ? does it recontextualise everything we've just read? no, right? (or does it?)

the usual 'will-they-won't-they' romance plot isn't a factor in the book, we already know they will, they have, they won't, and they refuse to, all at once.

(jean-baptiste thinks of himself as an invert because he is Learned and has read some fascinating journal articles about cutting-edge sexology, and his relation to his sexuality is very very different. it's not something he shares with his closest friends in spaces without scrutiny; his entire life is scrutinised and his social system is predicated on marriage. like i think i said in the book, probably, i don't remember: he and renard are two guys clinging to the same life raft. they hate each other! but if you push the other guy off the life raft, then you're just one guy alone at sea, forever.)

[usomads]

Finisher // Roman Reigns x Reader (Pin Me Pt. 2)

Author’s Note -> Hiiii everyone! So many of you requested a part two to Pin Me, which again thank you so much for all the love on the first part. I honestly didn’t think of making it multiple parts when I first wrote this, but here we are and here it is lol! Happy reading!

Plot -> After pinning the Smackdown Women’s Champion in your mixed tag-team match with Roman Reigns, you gained popularity and with that your first singles title opportunity. You’ve never been more nervous for anything in your life, so your Tribal Chief helps ease your nerves before your match…

Pairings -> Roman Reigns x Fem!Reader (Y/N)

Warnings -> Cursing, Oral Sex (Fem!Receiving), Fingering, Gagging, Implied Smut, Not Proofread, MDNI

Word Count -> 3.0k

(time skip to the first Smackdown episode after Saturday Night’s Main Event)

“I’ve been your Smackdown Women’s Champion for nearly five months now, and since becoming your champion I have proved that I am the irresistible force and nobody can take this title from me. Not Bayley, not Naomi, not Tiffany, and esp-” Nia’s promo was cut short by your entrance music hitting, the crowd rising to their feet and popping loudly for your theme. Since pinning Nia at Saturday Night’s Main Event, you had taken the WWE Universe by storm; your social media following went up, more and more people were recognizing you in public, you had gotten exactly the recognition you wanted all along- and it was all thanks to Roman Reigns.

Since last Saturday and your “celebration” post-match, you’ve grown closer to Joe. You were getting to know each other better, spending more time together, and what you initially thought was a one-time thing in the heat of the moment was clearly not. Joe got his hands on you every chance he could, it didn’t matter where or when, if he wanted you he was going to have you. And who were you to turn down your Tribal Chief? 

Now, you two hadn’t defined your “relationship” just yet but you both were perfectly fine with the way things were at the moment- taking things slow and really getting to know each other (among other things) before making anything official. You were doing pretty well for yourself; you were gaining more traction than before and you had a fine ass man to go home to- you had zero complaints with how your life and career were going at the moment.

You emerged from backstage, microphone in hand, as the crowd roared at your entrance. You signaled for production to cut your music, walking confidently to the ring as you spoke. “Now, Nia, I know damn well you didn’t come in the ring to talk all this mess about ‘no one can beat me’ after last week… did you hit your head too hard during our match or something because I,” you paused, signaling to the crowd filling the arena, “as well as the entire WWE universe remember very clearly that I pinned you last week at Main Event.” The crowd cheered in response, boosting your already high confidence as you smirked at Nia. “If you’re soooo confident you can beat me one-on-one, then do it. Put your title on the line next week and let’s see how much of a ‘force’ you really are.”

“Oh, Y/N…” Nia mocked you, “it’s so adorable that you think you’re a threat to me and my title. That win you got last week, pinning me? Was pure luck.” Nia stepped to you, with little distance between you too as she glared down at you, “But unlike you, at least I don’t have to sleep with anyone to get my main event spots, I work hard for what I have. Do that first, then come talk to me.” That wasn’t in the fucking script, is she serious right now? Oh, if she wants to improv, best believe I can too. You swung without thinking twice, using the microphone in your hand to hit her on the side of the head. It was time for a fight. 

You and Nia took turns trying to go at each other, both of you countering the other until she blindsided you out of nowhere with a hit that made you see double for a second. You knew you were done after that, feeling blood trickle from a cut on your head created by her. She continued to attack you while you were down, the crowd booing with every hit she delivered. After your body had slumped in the center of the ring she grabbed you by your hair and pulled you up, showing your beaten and bloody face to the crowd and cameras. “This isn’t fantasy, Y/N, stop playing pretend with Roman and go back to catering where you fucking belong.” She threw your head back onto the mat and exited the ring as security and medical personnel rushed to the ring. You dragged your fatigued body out of the ring and backstage, refusing treatment from medical despite their protests. You walked into the locker room Joe and you now shared, while Joe was screaming at someone on the phone.

“Nick, are you fucking kidding me? There’s gotta be some form of punish- I don’t give a shit what the higher ups thought about it, she could’ve seriously injured Y/N, I-,” Joe paused, turning around and seeing you enter the locker room, “I gotta go. This conversation isn’t over.” Joe hung up on the GM and rushed over to you. “Baby, are you okay? Did she hurt you? Have you gotten looked at by-”

“No, Joe, and I’m not going to. Just please, drop it. I’m over it.”

“Well, I’m not. Why the fuck would she even say something like that? How would she have known about us?”

“I don’t fuckin’ know, Joe! Now leave it alone, seriously, I’m not in the goddamn mood.” You went silent, thinking about what you were going to do about Nia. You needed to do something different, something she would never see coming. Your priorities shifted completely after that segment, you now no longer wanted just the title. Your biggest priority, maybe even more than wanting the belt, was to beat the shit outta Nia Jax, no matter what it took.

“Babe, c’mon, you need to sit down. You’re gonna stress yourself into a heart attack if you don’t quit pacing around the room like that,” Joe was currently attempting to calm you down, you had been completely fine this past week you were training and promoting the match, but now that the show had officially started your overwhelming amount of confidence had completely vanished.

“Easy for you to say, title matches are second nature to you. Muscle memory. I  have never competed for a title before, I have every right to be freaking the fuck out right now, Joe,” you sighed. “It feels like everything just did a 180 degree turn, like I have so many eyes on me now and they all want me to beat Nia’s ass, and I just don’t know if I-”

“Hey, none of that. Y/N, look at me,” you slowly brought your head up to meet his eyes, the same ones that completely captivated your being just a couple weeks ago. “Whatever you’re about to say, don’t. That crowd out there knows exactly what you’re capable of, you know what you’re capable of, and I know what you’re capable of. I believe in you, baby, and if you can’t find it in you to believe in yourself then I’ll believe enough for the both of us. You got this, Y/N, I know you do.” Your heart melted at his words, the soothing and reassuring tone in his voice providing you some much needed comfort. 

“You still nervous, baby?” You nodded your head, looking down at your lap as he scooted closer to you on the couch. “I think I have an idea on how we can fix that. Do you trust me?”

“A-always, Joe.”

“Good girl.” He lifts your chin with his finger and passionately presses his lips to yours, resting his palm on the side of your face as you moan into the kiss. Your stomach flutters at his soft demeanor, feeling some of your nerves dissipate as his lips caress yours. He lays you down on the couch, hovering over you as he deepens the kiss. Breathless, he pulls away, leaning his forehead against yours and looking lovingly into your eyes. “You still feelin’ nervous, baby?”

“Y-yeah,” you breathed out, “a little less, but still pretty nervous.”

“I guess I’ll have to keep going then, don’t I?” His lips find their way back to yours, resting there for a moment before trailing along your jawbone and down your neck, leaving a few wet kisses at the base of your throat before continuing his path downward. Your breathing had picked up, and you were now looking down at him as his lips left a trail down your abdomen.

“A-are you sure we should… now? I mean, I have my match later and I-”

“Shhh, I promise I’ll be quick. Just wanna take care of you, help my baby out,” he muttered against your hip bone as he teased the lining of your ring gear you had been wearing. You sighed contently, leaning your head back against the arm of the couch and allowing yourself to relax into his touch. His fingers interlock in the lining of your bottoms as he looks up for you, asking for permission to remove them. You lift your hips off the couch, allowing him to slowly drag the material down your legs and throw them to the side. He snakes both hands up your legs, kneading the soft flesh of your thighs before splitting them apart and exposing you to him. Your body was so reactive to him- Joe loved how goosebumps would scatter across your skin at the brush of his lips or how your eyes would flutter closed and your eyebrows would scrunch together with just his touch, but most of all, he loved how how wet he made you without doing a thing to you. 

“Fuck, ma, always so ready for me,” you moaned loudly and bucked your hips, desperate for any sort of friction, “you gon’ have to be quiet for me, don’t want nobody to hear us, right baby?” You nodded and bit your lip, trying to hold in your cries and his fingers danced up the smooth skin of your inner thighs and through your folds, leaning down to make his face level with your core and presses a soft kiss on your clit before wrapping his lips around the swollen bud, nipping and sucking while he continues to drag his fingers along your slit before pushing a finger inside. His thrusts are slow, putting his focus on his mouth as he eats you with a burning intensity. His tongue works itself in ways that set your body on fire, the scruff of his beard along with it only adding to the sensation he’s giving you. The lip you’re biting to keep quiet is nearly drawing blood. You want to cry out, you want to moan his praises loud enough for the crowd inside the arena to hear, but you know you can’t so you continue to restrain yourself despite wanting to do the complete opposite.

He replaces his fingers with his tongue now, pumping it inside of you and using one to pin your hips down and the other to draw slow circles into your clit. This time you can’t help yourself; your clit is so sensitive that the second his fingers brushed it, you were done for. He pauses for a moment to remove his t-shirt he was wearing and you whine from the loss of contact, watching as he morphs the cotton material into a ball and hands it over to you, bringing his hand back down to your clit. “Bite down on this, since you can’t keep yourself quiet, I’ll make you.” You hesitate for a moment and look down at him, his features darkening and giving you a sly smirk before nodding his head. You bring the material to your lips before biting down on it, your senses being completely filled by Joe. He goes back to eating you as you moan into the cloth, the material successfully muffling your cries. Joe’s movements become more and more desperate, moving his tongue and fingers faster as he can sense you’re close. You can’t stop your moans now, saliva drooling from the corner of your mouth as you feel yourself getting closer to your release. Your legs begin to shake and Joe, noticing you were close, dives his head deeper into your pussy, trapping you with his mouth. Your eyes squeeze shut as you inhale, breathing in his scent and cologne you were using as a gag, triggering your own orgasm. You came on his tongue hard, shaking and moaning into the fabric of his shirt as he laps up your juices like an animal deprived of water. You even your breathing and throw his shirt back at him, the both of you laughing as he crawls on top of you.

“Oh, you wanna throw things at me do you? I might just have to teach you a le-”

Joe was interrupted by someone knocking on the door to his locker room. “Excuse me, Ms. Y/N? It’s almost time for your match, we need to head to Gorilla to finalize some things real quick.” You both sigh, him getting off of you as you put your bottoms back on in a rush. You make a run for the door to hurry and get to your position, but he grabs your arm to stop you. “You still feeling nervous?” You smiled at him and shook your head, going to thank him but getting cut off. “Good luck out there, baby. I’ll be waiting for you in Gorilla for you to show me that new title,” he kisses your cheek and you blush.

“Thank you, Joe, for everything. I mean it, I wouldn’t be doing this without you.” He gives you a soft smile and ushers you out the door, as you prepare yourself for possibly the biggest match of your entire career.

“Ughhh,” you groaned as Nia dragged you from the center of the ring to the corner, preparing to give you an Annihilator and win this match. From the jump Nia had punished you, much to the crowd’s distaste. It seemed like everybody in the arena had been behind you and you felt it, right up until the bell rang and she started throwing heavy combinations your way. You managed to sneak in a couple pieces of offense but none were convincing enough to give you any sort of edge. Nia got on the ropes, and performed the move. She remained seated on you, trying to get the pin. 1… 2… kick out. You pushed her off of you and sat on your heels, gripping your side. Jesus, my fuckin’ ribs. 

Finally to your feet, you unload on Nia as she laid on the ground. Kicks, punches, springboard moves, you threw the whole arsenal but each pin attempt gave a 1 or 2 count, and never close calls. You knew deep down you were going to have to do something completely insane to get this win, so you start stringing things together to get it done. You start by giving her a drop kick to send her to the outside, following her out, then throwing her into the steel steps. You dragged her by the hair to the announce table, laying her on it as you ran to the ring and climbed to the top rope. You made sure everyone near the table had cleared before crossing your heart and doing a senton, landing on Nia as the table and collapsing along with it. You could tell that Nia was nearly to the breaking point, so you mustered all the energy and strength you could to drag her back into the ring and climbed to the top rope once more. You hit your finisher, but wasn’t satisfied. You wanted no doubts, so you climbed up and hit it again, straddling her shoulders and hooking your arms around her legs. The arena was so loud you could barely hear the ref’s count. 1… 2… 3… ‘Here is your winner, and the NEW… WWE Women’s Champion… Y/N!’

You couldn’t even process what had just happened, all you wanted to do was get the hell out of that ring so you snatched the title from the ref and escaped. You slowed down when you made it to the stage, clutching the title in your arms and looking down at it with tears brimming your eyes. Your knees felt weak, and your heart was beating out of your chest. You did it. You triumphantly raised the title in the air, tears starting to fall as you smiled and took the moment in. After the cameras had cut and you had taken a few pictures with fans, you walked backstage only to be greeted with cheers. You made your way to everyone, getting pictures, hugs, and everything else in between before locking eyes with the man you wanted to see ever since your hand was raised. Joe. You practically ran to him, jumping into his arms and wrapping yours around his neck, hugging him tightly. He spun you around and smiled from ear to ear. 

“I’m so fuckin’ proud of you, baby. You had a helluva match out there, I knew you had it in you,” he kissed you sweetly right there, not caring who was watching as you grinned widely. “Now, let’s get you home,” he winked at you, setting you down before whispering low in your ear.

“We’ve got some more celebrating to do tonight.”

[mumms-the-word]

So I’ve played a bit more Veilguard and y’all

Y’ALL

Y’AAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLL

Spoilers below the cut (which I may turn into a lore post later idk)

UM SOUTHERN THEDAS IS DYING?

I have everything spoiler tagged and hidden, idk if people are talking about this but EXCUSE ME??

MY WARDENS AND HAWKES ARE IN DANGER

Okay but like let’s think about this for real (I'm going off memory from replaying the "meet the inquisitor" scene like 3-4 times so forgive any missed details; also I disbanded the Inquisition in this game so idk if that has an effect yet)

Inquisitor and Morrigan said that the south is under siege from a legion, an army, a swarm of darkspawn the likes of which Thedas has never seen. Thanks Ghilan’nain for creating new horrors. That sounds bad but then it gets worse

Denerim, a city that has canonically withstood the Fifth Blight and was the showdown site for a battle against a darkspawn army and an archdemon, is lost. We lost the capital of Ferelden.

Everyone is fleeing to Redcliffe, which is decently defensible but not impenetrable. Redcliffe has already suffered waves of undead and (theoretically) a super dark pseudo-future full of demons and red Templars and such. It stood up pretty well against both, but it’s not great if it’s Ferelden’s last stand against the darkspawn.

What about the Hinterlands? Amaranthine? Gwaren? Inquisitor writes that Ostagar and the Korcari Wilds are seeing surges of darkspawn again--that's where the darkspawn poured forth during the Fifth Blight. That's not good!

Orzammar is helping, but I can’t imagine they’re not also suffering. Are the darkspawn flooding the Deep Roads? Orzammar can’t defend against them forever if it’s worse than we think. Are the Legion of the Dead overwhelmed?

Kirkwall has fallen. A city that has withstood, within the last 25 years, a refugee crisis from the Fifth Blight, a violent qunari invasion, the explosion of their Chantry and the ensuing mage-templar chaos that nearly brought the city to its knees, and the Breach, which opened up dozens of Fade rifts in the city that Varric was still dealing with after the Breach was actually closed. It's gone, it's unlivable, so much so that the Acting Viscount had to evacuate her city and her army to freaking Starkhaven, which is usually their mortal enemy (Prince Sebastian Vael tends to want to annex or control Kirkwall smh)

(Also Aveline is Acting Viscount? that makes sense and also I love that for her, but man what a time to be in charge)

Ostwick, the home city for Trevelyans, is threatened by the rogue Antaam, so I can only imagine that Wycome, where a surviving Clan Lavellan would be, is also threatened by the Antaam (Wycome is closer to Antiva and Rivain anyway). And the rest of the Free Marches is apparently experiencing "the worst" of the darkspawn threat. How many cities other than Kirkwall have fallen? Like Ferelden, what's happening in the spaces between?

In Orlais, the darkspawn have apparently cut a line directly through the country. Both Halamshiral and Val Royeaux are barely holding out, which is partly surprising and partly not. Halamshiral and Val Royeaux are luxurious cities, not defensible fortresses. That said, they have the benefit of the Orlesian monarchy's standing army and the Divine's templar (or templar-equivalent) army, so perhaps that's why they're both still standing.

But I imagine the Exalted Plains, the Dales, the desert landscapes of the Western Approach (which already had lingering darkspawn threats)....those must be suffering. Are the Dales themselves blights, the greenery dying? Is the newly-healing land of the Plains now facing death and destruction again?

I mean, yes, the threat of the gods in the north is also very bad but I am stuck on this idea of trying to figure out how our beloved characters from the last three games are dealing with this! This is their turf!

We know the Inquisitor is running around trying to help but what about everyone else? Like, can you imagine...

How is Alistair doing, facing a blight that has been described as "worse than any blight the world has ever seen"? Either he's a warden and he's sick of dealing with this, or he's the king and he's facing the total annihilation of his kingdom again, only this time the odds are infinitely worse. Is his Warden wife fighting alongside him, or is his Queen helping him keep everything together?

What about Zevran? Is he staying in Antiva, causing chaos among the Antaam who have taken over various cities there, or does his Warden romance convince him to go down south to try and help? And Leliana? if she's Divine, she's likely manning the chantry's armed forces, but if not, where is she operating? Is she with her lover, the Warden, or if she's alone, is she back in the game of fielding information to all the necessary forces who need them? She's not the Inquisition spymaster anymore, but that doesn't mean she's not active

Aveline is fleeing to Starkhaven, where Sebastian is, and Varric is with us in the lighthouse. Isabela is with the Lords of Fortune. What about the rest? Did Merrill flee with Aveline? Is Hawke with them? Or is Hawke with Anders, or Fenris, fighting wherever they need to be? (Assuming, of course, they're not left in the Fade). What about Bethany or Carver, if they're alive? If they're Wardens, surely they're in the thick of it, fighting darkspawn. If they're not, have they gone with Aveline to Starkhaven?

And our DAI friends. Cullen is in Ferelden--has he joined forces at Redcliffe, if he's not romancing the Inquisitor? Is his family okay? Dorian is in Minrathous, we can safely assume Josephine is in Antiva City. I can only assume Josephine is trying her best to keep Antiva City safe through her connections and influence, but how long until events there force her to leave too?

Cassandra is from Nevarra so she may be home, or she's Divine, or she's traveling. If she isn't with her romanced Inquisitor and she isn't the Divine, surely she's out there fighting. Against what? Venatori in Nevarra? Or will her allegiances to Orlais bring her down there to aid a Divine Leliana? Sera is still in Orlais too, presumably, as a Jenny that helps the Divine. Are they both facing the darkspawn threat?

If Blackwall is a Warden, is he even still alive? If he's not a Warden, I can imagine he's back in the Free Marches, fighting darkspawn until his dying breath. Iron Bull and his Chargers, too, if they're all alive from DAI. Whether he's in Orlais, Ferelden, the Free Marches, or passing near Tevinter to be with Dorian, he and his team must be constantly dealing with the blight and the gods acting crazy. Unless, of course, he or Blackwall are with the Inquisitor, fighting right there on the front lines.

Vivienne has probably rallied mages in whatever Circle she's established to help, but help how? Joining the forces of the Divine, or leading a campaign of her own? If Cole is human, is he finding little ways of helping, or has he been human so long that he's forgotten how? If he's a spirit, he's back beyond the Veil. Does the chaos in the south now draw him back? How can a spirit of Compassion, whether human or spirit, deal with what is happening all across Thedas?

I have so many thoughts. And I will probably write fic about it. It all just keeps churning in my head. I love it. It's horrifying. The game may have moved on very quickly from it but boy oh boy am I thinking about my Wardens and Hawkes and Inquisitors and going "What are you going to do?? The world is dying!!"

If I learn more I'll turn this into a lore post that isn't hidden by a cut, but for now I have some mural memories to live through (time to cry about Solas again) and then it's side quest city babyyyy so idk when I'll have an update again lol

if you made it this far, well done :') appreciate you

thank for joining me in this chaos!

[crepesuzette2023]

Thank you for the tag, @pauls1967moustache! My heart is in my fiction, and I'm happy to talk about a bit. <3

How many works do you have on ao3?

15! All within the Beatles fandom (various pairings, but with a focus on J/P).

What’s your total word count?

95,825.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

In John's Lap (early days mclennon), play me one of yours (early days, Jim POV on J/P), Brian Manages (Sole Direction) (1968; Brian lives AU/Fix it, mclennon from Brian POV), Serenade in Paul (PWP mclennon), I was the dream weaver (1968/1969 breakup, angst; John POV)

Do you respond to comments? Why/why not?

I do. I deeply appreciate it when people take the time to let me know their thoughts, or simply that they liked my story—and replying feels like completing a handshake.

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

Probably I was the dream weaver—there is some hope in the end, but it's a small flame in a dark night. But the love is there.

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

I think Brian Manages, which is only appropriate, since it's a Secret Santa gift (2023). Yes, the story is about saving Lennon/McCartney, but it's mainly about Brian, and it was important to me to give him a happy ending as well.

Do you write crossovers?

Not yet, but I would love to one day! I can't think of any, though...

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not yet.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I do write smut, and I think I tend to write smut with feelings. No specific kinks yet, except...Paul's leg fur and body hair. And his entire spritely gestalt.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware. Brrr.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Again, not that I'm aware.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes, twice, with @ohjohnnysblog. Thank you, OJ, for holding my hand during my very first fic, Storage Space, and for coming back for Serenade in Paul!

What's your all-time favourite ship?

I'm probably mainly a John/Paul fan, but I have a soft spot for Paul/Mal, and actually enjoy Paul/ any male Beatles-adjacent character, or Paul in a threesome...

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

I am determined—*determined!*—to finish my story about Old Man Paul releasing his mclennon dreams/memories on the world. I'm also determined to write a long Woodland Sprite Paul AU. One day.

What are your writing strengths?

I swear I'm not fishing for compliments, but I honestly can't say. I don't hate my writing, I'm just reluctant to analyze myself that way, you know. But if I had to pick one: I think I have the ability to remember, out of all the Beatles stuff I read and saw and thought about, the right detail at the right time while writing. Not as in listing facts, but as in: this would fit nicely here.

What are your writing weaknesses?

English isn't my first language, which in the context of Beatles fic means I'm not your best choice if you're looking for realistic Liverpool dialogue to leap off the page. I wish I had Paul's talent for mimicry...!

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

People can do what they want, but if there's entire pages in a language I can't read, and no footnotes to help me, the story isn't for me. Individual words and phrases are a different thing, of course.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

This one! Beatles! McLennon! Paul, you were my first, and I was your billionth!

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

Breaking news, I think I might try my hand at Peaky Blinders at some point...

What's your favourite fic you've written?

Similar to you, Mo, I love all of mine equally, but I have special love in my heart for the fic that lifted me out of a spell of the writing horrors this fall: Johnny Gentle and His Group, about the Silver Beetles' 1960 Scottish Tour. And, of course, Hurricaneville: leg combing McLennon in 1961!

Tagging, if you’d like @eveepe, @revollver, @m1ssunderstanding, @unchaineddaisychain , @therealsaintscully and @scurator!

[blizzardsuplex]

Deep Dive Masterpost pt. 1 - Instagram

Spent a couple of days plumbing the depths of several social media sites for Roddy-related content and found some fun/silly stuff I haven't seen posted anywhere else, LOL. There are so many pictures that I'm stuffing them (and any potential commentary) under a cut.

Tagging @mobiblackout, @btybbcedes, @sadiesm, @christiancagesupporter, and @moxapologist for these. Hard to believe so many of these were taken over 10 years ago now.

[Right: Dojo Bros!!!]

[Right: yes, that's him and Eddie Edwards at Eddie's wedding.]

[Right: apparently he loves dogs.]

[Left: I just really like this pic. Blue!]

[Left: one of my fave pics of him, NGL.]

[Left: floating around on Pinterest somewhere I think but it's too good.]

[LOL @ Bobby and Trent noticing his left nipple]

[Right: context is apparently his football team didn't do so hot.]

[Right: the hair, LOL]

[:pleading_face:]

[Him and Dalton in Japan.]

[The caption...haha]

[Left: romance isn't dead!]

[Left: also one of my fave Roddy pics; Right: RIP Kyle, that one's for you Sadie LOL]

[Left: Halloween costume; Right: Christmas sweatervest]

[lucabyte]

heres your highly requested fluff you fucking animals

[lorebird]

In which Ford struggles so badly to relate to other people that he wonders if he’s really human at all. The more isolated he becomes, the harder it is to reconcile with his own humanity.

[ganondoodle]

got this reblog on one of my posts were i talked about being anxious about the future of the zelda series after totk and-

i even went back and unblocked them just to check my own post and check twice what they meant exactly- but i still dont know how they got to these conclusions

i never said i 'want a good uwu ganondorf' (bc that would mean hes aligned with hyrule bc thats how goodness works!!!!11!1!!!), i also dont think of any of the zeldas as 'whores' (seriously, where did that come from?? neither me nor the addition of someone agreeing with me said anything like that??? did they think bc the addition called tloz misogynistic means we think zelda is a whore????? huh???)

its also funny how they say they want zelda to stay a simple fairytale rather than have 'people like me' bc .. one point i talked about in the og post was how the evil arab thing VS good white people media likes to do so much is so normalized here that its simply seen as a simple harmless fairytale trope instead of a big underlying issue in general media and the writers might not even realize it (which is worse) bc the most 'generic' appeal is to people who dont think of it as a problem in the first place, because it is so normalized

(huh, i wonder about what kind of person that part was about .. hmmmm)

(ALSO funny they mention princess hilda as nuanced villain ... like ... wow they are so nuanced about purple haired people!!- like guess why we want a nuanced/less badly/less flat written ganondorf and what he, in particular, has not in common with other villains! its not his hair color! .... or was that point supposed to mean .. look we have one female character that is a villain, its not misogynistic! idk honestly)

(and the classic, "you just call it this/dont like it bc its not what you wanted !!!!!!!2!"1!112!!")

also funny how its 'never gonna be progressive enough' like asking for the franchise to maybe put a little more thought and nuance into their white divine right vs evil desert man simulator instead of making it worse is already asking too much

(i dont know what the last point has to do with anything??)

(also yes totk is racist, like most if not all of the franchise and a alot of other media as well, shocker- you can still like it though, i and plenty of other people are still fans of it, we just wish they did a little more with their stuff and maybe not make the racism problem WORSE)

(also yes the hyrule monarchy is also evil :))) )

(and also not so secretly so either :)) )

[shadowhaert]

in remembrance of all deceased transgender individuals who have been misgendered through paleontology

trans liberation does not stop with death insp by @sweatermuppet

[ebenelephant]

was at work and plagued by the thought of retail worker will graham being pestered by hannibal in the high end food aisle. to be clear, this is an au in which will still has his heightened empathy but just works a shitty job. hannibal is absolutely enraptured by his autistic rizz anyway.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

everywhere i go, im forced to see hazbin

[piko-power]

My Personal Headcanon On Why Amy's Love For Sonic Died Down Lately (and their dynamic)

When they were younger, Amy's love for Sonic was pretty extreme, and Sonic was, understandable, uncomfortable for the most part. He knows she means well, but that girl needs to calm down.

She can fight, but sometimes her hammer could only stun her enemies for a while. (It took her a long time to get rid of that robot that has been chasing her around Station Square.) She wasn't fully independent yet, even if she fought on her own a couple of times.

She often follows Sonic and his friends around. She is part of the team, but she was not a strong as she is now at the time yet.

She admires Sonic. A LOT. And Sonic knows that. Obviously, he could only run away from something like that, since he is NOT ready for that kind of thing, and whether Amy takes the hint or stop, she still loves him.

...BUT, I think things were slightly starting to change between her and Sonic after Lost World.

Remember this line?

You remember that? Okay, okay. Here's another totally unrelated question:

Before the events of Lost World, when was the last time Amy said "I love you" to Sonic out loud?

...YEP. �� (Unless I'm missing something, let me know lmao)

As more games and adventures come out, the characters get slightly older, and Amy is 12 to 13 now, and she is most certainly at that age where her body starts to change, but especially on how she views Sonic.

She knows she loves Sonic, but it was this moment during her change where she actually wanted to admit that she loves him.

I believe that Amy was all about sharing her affection to him not through confessions, but through obvious hints. Sonic totally got it, and there was no need to confess. Sonic knows she loves her.

...But she never said it. And she almost did, but she never did again for a while.

I think this was the moment in her life where, oh, God, she actually loves Sonic. SHE LOVES HIM, WHAT.

And she was looking back at all the times she had with Sonic that she can now see were unpleasant to Sonic (At least that's what she thinks) and that's probably why she isn't so expressive about her love to him than how she used to back then.

She wasn't sure what to do with this realization, and sets aside it for a while, and nearly stayed as her casual, peppy self... until the Eggman War happened.

During the 6 months of being with the Resistance, fighting Eggman's army all day and all night, all she can think of was Sonic.

She dreams that he still with not just her, but with her friends. She just wanted to see Sonic again, she just wants to be with her hero again.

But I'd like to think that she was also thinking about how she used to treat Sonic back when they were younger, how Sonic would almost always run away from her whenever she asks him out, or always look so uncomfortable whenever she gets so close to him.

Cringing at those memories big time, she wanted to change and hopefully when Sonic is okay and comes back, she can be better for him.

...Or will he still find her uncomfortable regardless? Would he even be happy to see her at all if he did survive?

But, hold on! She can't just give up her love for Sonic! He made her who she is today! A peppy, nature-loving, hammer-swinging, confident, brave... loud-mouth... annoying... Sonic obsessed... weak... pathetic... lonely little girl.

If she gives up on Sonic, it'll be like she gave up on the one hedgehog who saved her life. If she didn't she'll still be the same ol' Amy.

I also like to think she had parents a long while before she met Sonic, and was even expecting a little sister, but a robot invasion happened from where she was and attacked her parents and instead of trying to save them, after getting hurt, she ran away, hoping that they'll come back okay. But they never did.

She was all alone, and needed someone, a friend, a new family, someone who will hold her hand, anyone, to be there for her. But she was ignored by lots, and at that point, she's better off by herself, but still longed for company.

Eventually though, her tarot cards told her her future hero, and there might be hope after all. She encountered Sonic, held onto the belief of the cards tight, and the rest is history.

So, with that headcanon in mind, not only did Amy loose her parents that she didn't save because of her cowardliness (she was only so little at the time that happened) and also Sonic, who she thought will be her only hope, but now gone.

She doesn't even care if he did come back, he'd probably hate her now after everything she did to him, always talking about their "future wedding" or forcing him to go to Twinkle Park.

For the last few months of the war, it was nothing but Amy mentally beating herself up for either refusing to change or moving on, and they are both not fine choices.

She loves Sonic, but he does not love her, and she finally, finally realized it. And it's probably for the best if no body loved her at all.

But of course Sonic did survive and all of her worries wash away in an instant, she's just not expressive about her love for Sonic AT ALL now, since she's still worried about it but rather not mention it to Sonic because it doesn't matter.

If Sonic doesn't love her, then her feelings don't matter to him, and according to Amy herself, that is okay.

But also, I'd like to think that Sonic was thinking about his friends a lot up in the Death Egg for the past months, sometimes it's Tails (worried for his safety), sometimes it's Shadow (because he's wondering why he would join Eggman.) At some point, for a few days, Amy was in his mind the longest, and he felt bad about how he thought he was rude and pushy to her.

He wondered if she's not thinking about it too much, and if she is, will she give up on him? Yeah, he doesn't feel the same and still not looking for a relationship, but it's so strange but interesting how anyone could ever like someone like Sonic the Hedgehog. Amy was never afraid to show that, and she probably might be now.

He couldn't help but feel guilty. They were kids when she was like this, but he was so... arrogant at the time too. Not a lot happened at the time yet. He'd always have trouble expressing how much he value his friends, until he shattered the Paradox Prism. (I'd like to think Prime took place before Forces. It makes sense.)

She is such a sweet girl, and he probably made her believe that he didn't care for her. Just because he doesn't feel the same, that doesn't mean he hates her at all.

He wished he never ran away from Amy... Worrying for his little bro and wishing to be a good person for Amy was when Sonic cried in the Death Egg for the first and only time.

Frontiers, in my opinion, is kind of confirming their dynamic now. Sonic is a lot more sincere and kinder to Amy and she is not all hyperactive and lovey to Sonic. There is probably a real reason for this now.

They are both hiding their feelings from them, and they are both unaware of this. Amy, hiding her mental issues from Sonic, and Sonic, hiding his guilt away from Amy.

None of those things are important now. Sonic is with Amy and Amy is with Sonic. They are here with each other. They can be finally be better for each other now.

They don't care if they'll ever be something more when they get older. None of that matters anymore. They are here with each other. They can be finally be better for each other now.

Maybe someday they'll both talk about it, but for now, the present is important. They care about each other too much to think about it right now.

It's the kind of love that is unbreakable. It doesn't even have to be romantic. It's just love. Love is important for everyone, in any form. It's something Sonic and his friends need. And especially Sonic and Amy.

Amy Rose is the living embodiment of love, and without her, a lot would go downhill for Sonic and co. Heck, if it weren't for her, Shadow wouldn't have never remembered Maria's promise, which lead him to save the world with Sonic, before he temporarily disappeared from their lives for a while.

She is always there to lend a helping hand for anybody, even bad guys like Metal Sonic, and despite what she had been through, both in Forces and headcanon wise, she still fights back, even without her hammer.

She will pick you back up on your feet, reminding you that you are important and that you are loved, and that you should never give up. It's pretty much the words of encouragement she herself needed also...

She is still the happy, hyper, butt-kicking hedgehog we all know and love, but she still need someone to pick her back up on her feet after so long. Thankfully, she has her friends and her blue hero. The hero who made her who she is today.

I think Amy has no idea how important she thought she is, but Sonic does. Sonic knows fully well how important she is to a lot of people. It's about time he returns the favor to her. It's his turn to remind her how much a lot of people love her.

How much he loves her.

And I feel like The Murder of Sonic the Hedgehog was the moment where their dynamic really shined, but also the starting point of their relationship not only healing, but also the next chapter of what's to come for them.

Everyone, friends old and new, gathered around for a special birthday. A birthday for the confident, unshakable, and radiant Amy Rose.

It was such a special moment in Amy's life. After years of chasing and following the people she look up to, she is part of the team, but most importantly, she is part of the family.

She is fully realized as someone more than just a fangirl, but someone strong, courageous, creative, kind and a big inspiration for others.

I feel like this moment here...

-is where Amy is eternally grateful to call her friends her family. A family she thought she'll never have again. She's not alone anymore, and as long as they're by her side, she'll never will be again.

Her chasing days are over. She's finally caught up to them. She's finally home.

And it's all thanks to Sonic.

If it weren't for him, she'd probably be alone forever. Her past moments with Sonic might be embarrassing to look back on for a while, but they are good memories regardless, because they involve him.

Sonic saved her life in more ways than one, and despite everything, he's grateful to have her too.

He cares about her. He really does... And in her eyes, that all she needed to know. As long as Sonic loves her in his own way, she'll be happy.

Amy hasn't given up on Sonic. As long as Amy always supports him, he'll be happy.

Maybe sometime in the future, they can talk about their problems, but that's a story for another time. At this point, they need to. Right now, they are happy. They are okay.

They are here for each other. They are finally better for each other now.

"You guys won't ever leave me, right?"

"Wouldn't dream of it."

[licnheartedd]

stop using the word “cripple” to describe disabled characters!

just because a musical uses the word and it trends online doesn’t make it any less of a derogatory term. stop using it. stop reblogging posts that use it. fandom should be a safe and comfortable space for everyone, including physically disabled people. “cripple” has always been a derogatory term, and you don’t get to start using it now just because the internet thinks it’s funny