#oh mother where art thou?

[ohmotherwhereartthou-if]

Another Mini Update (9/9/24)

Okay I know you all prefer big updates rather than a bunch of small ones but I can only write in small segments lately and I get a bit anxious if I don't share my current progress in a while. Gets worse when I don't have all the time to answer requests either. 😭

The IF is now at 55,817 words without code and 61,102 with code.

If you haven't read since the last official update, then this is a little more than a 5k word update.

What warranted this update is that I added a June POV in the end, I don't know how I feel about keeping it because I feel like it's too revealing about June's past.

I think I'd prefer to keep June's past a completely mystery for you all to learn about later but at the same time, I wanted to do a deep dive on how the character would be feeling at that exact moment. What was meant to be a little blurb turned out to be a much longer passage that made me tear up a little bit ngl.

Although me crying could just be me fully knowing the backstory lol.

Anywho, I left her POV as optional and I wanted to know your thoughts! Feel free to comment or submit your thoughts to the inbox so I can know to keep this in or not! 💙

Quick Link to Story: Link

Enjoy! Sorry it isn't more! 😅

[annemarieyeretzian]

turin telling pree “gotta hand it to you, pree. for a bartender, you make a pretty good recon scout.” and pree sassing “gingersnap, for the last time, I make a pretty good everything.”

[many-gay-magpies]

where the fuck is my MOM

[cant-kill-me-if-im-already-dead]

TAG DUMP

I'll update this as need be, but here is a current tag list!

[epicfroggz]

Age of Shadow

(This is a fan-made Messmer questline and ending, not based on cut content or anything of the sort. Source is: I made it up. Thanks to @purpupa for helping with some of the items, inspiring me, and listening to my crazed ramblings at the midnight hours. Very long post ahead, enjoy!)

After his fight, particularly after the Hornsent has left his arena, you will be able to locate Messmer at the entrance to the keep’s infirmary, near the West Rampart site of grace. He will be standing in thought before these three chairs:

Messmer has donned a cloak made of Shadow and patched himself up using black gauze (see drawing above). When prompted, he says:

“Hello, Tarnished. There art three chairs here, but none fit me. That seemeth an oversight, does it not?”

Messmer does not turn to face you when he speaks. When prompted again, he says:

“… Thou hast not walked away yet. Doth thee needeth something?”

>Ask how he is alive

pleasantly “Serpents art exceedingly difficult to kill. Believe me, I have tried. Is that all?”

>Ask why he is not attacking

“I had underestimated thee, Tarnished. Thee hast strength befitting a lord. I shouldst not have doubted my mother.” pause “The serpent didst not expect a lightless creature like itself to be elevated to such a standing. It appears things hath changed in mine absence. I have much to learn.”

>leaving dialogue

“Tarnished, I have a request, if thou’rt up for it. I hath misplaced some notes of mine, a recipe for a particular physick. If thee bringeth it to me, thee shalt be rewarded. Farewell, for now.”

The key item Messmer’s Notes can be found in the Specimen Storehouse, near the Storehouse, Loft site of grace. It requires climbing up the catwalks and dropping down to an area with bookshelves.

Messmer’s Notes - Barely legible cursive scrawl written by Messmer the Impaler. Details a recipe for a medicine once derived from one of his mother’s blessings. It appears to be based off a childhood memory, with a few added ingredients “for taste”.

When you return to the infirmary, Messmer will be kneeling in the “O, Mother” gesture before a shrine to Marika that he has set up, the three chairs neatly pushed out of the way. When prompted, he retracts his hands, and says:

“Hello again, Tarnished. Didst thee findeth the recipe?”

You may then give him Messmer’s Notes. Alternatively, you may choose to give him a Blessing of Marika if there is one in your inventory.

>Offer Messmer’s notes

“Oh! I thank thee. Here, thy compensation.” gives you a Rune of an Unsung Hero

>Offer Blessing of Marika

“Oh, this is… Where didst thee get this? Nay, ‘tis not my place to ask. My sincerest gratitude, Tarnished.” gives you a Marika’s Rune

You may now ask Messmer more questions:

>Ask about the jarfolk

“Ah. What remains of my mother’s people. I hath tried desperately, for aeons it seemeth, to ease their suffering, yet… At what point is keeping a patient alive no longer in the interest of their wellbeing? At what point does it becometh insanity?“ shakily “I still feeleth as though I hast failed them…”

The second question only unlocks after you have defeated both Rellana and Gaius. If you have not, when you leave and travel back to the West Rampart site of grace, you will be greeted by the sound of Messmer weeping. Walking within ten feet of him or breaking objects in the room will cause him to stop. When prompted, he says:

trying to sound intimidating but holding back tears “Begone, Tarnished.” shakily “Messmer does not wish to speak to thee at this moment…”

Leaving and traveling back to the West Rampart site of grace will let you choose the second question:

>About your friends…

“I knoweth, Tarnished. They were in thy way, were they not? Rellana, and Gaius… I shall grant them a hero’s burial. May they returneth to the Erdtree yet, even if that is a vain hope in this land.” quietly “My friends, forgive me… For I have availed you nothing…”

>leaving dialogue

“Tarnished, thee can travel to the Lands Between, can thee not? I have another request for thee.”

A cutscene plays wherein Messmer carefully pulls a snake from his eye socket. During it, he says: “After shedding the seal, I recalled abilities lost to me. Some wonderful, some terrible, some… Gah! Hah… For thee, Tarnished. On thy travels, I bid thee well.”

Thus he will grant you this key item:

Juvenile Serpent - One of the base serpent’s progeny, pulled from the eye of Messmer the Impaler. Writhes around often. Stares longingly at the world, or perhaps stares hungrily at you. Who can tell? “Do take care of it, wilt thee?”

After reluctantly accepting the serpent, when you travel back to any grace in the Lands Between that Melina can spawn at, there will be a new option to Speak to Melina. She will say:

“What in the world is that creature you travel with? It seems to like me… You are exceedingly warm, little snake.” pause “It appears hungry. I can feed it some runes, if you would like?”

>Accept (-100 runes)

“Snakes are said to be traitors to the Erdtree, but we too are walking the path of heresy. Let’s get you fed, little one… There. Do tell, where did you find it?” pause “A long lost demigod pulled it out of his eye? Have you been afflicted with madness? No, you are entirely sincere. Huh. Well, it seems harmless enough.”

The serpent must be fed one more time to continue the quest. Speak to Melina at any grace and she will say:

“Hello. The little one hungers once again. Would you like to offer some runes?”

>Accept (-100 runes)

“I am surprised at its good nature, though I have witnessed it spit a red flame when angered. It is impossible not to question what sort of demigod it came from…”

An interaction occurs wherein Messmer materializes in a shadowy haze—not unlike the spirit fog through which Melina appears to you. He introduces himself: “Ah, so it was thee feeding the wee serpent? I knew it smelled like kin… I am Messmer, and thee?”

dumbfounded “Melina?”

“I see. Melina. Sister of mine, I knoweth of the kindling that smolders within thee.” he summons a small flame in his hand to show her “There is no need to burn thy self again. The Tarnished and I shall see it through.”

After this, the description of the Juvenile Serpent item updates:

Juvenile Serpent - One of the base serpent’s progeny, pulled from the eye of Messmer the Impaler. Prefers the company of the kindling maiden, as her touch feels like home. It will not bite the hand that feeds it. Serves as an anchor between the Lands Between and the veiled Land of Shadow.

(Optional) Taking the serpent in this state to the Church of Vows site of grace allows you to choose the new option, Speak to Messmer, which will summon him in shadowy spirit:

“Thou hast met Miriel? We became acquainted when Rellana once brought me here… ‘Tis a burning memory now, but the pastor is a wise beast indeed.” he looks to the sky “‘Heresy is not native to the world. All things can be conjoined’. We have forgotten that. We have forgotten ourselves, what we held most dear. To repair shattered Gold, I must layeth bare the ugliest truths of this world, those which I have been the bearer of for so long—I must mend it with Shadow. For there is no light that exists without the dark.”

Taking the serpent to the Forge of the Giants site of grace allows you to choose Speak to Messmer:

“Thou hast done well to come this far, Tarnished. Long have the prophets uttered of this moment. ‘Tis not lightly I choose to fulfill it, but… I wouldst prefer to give my men the option to return home, if nothing else. Art thou prepared to commit a cardinal sin, with me?”

>Accept

A cutscene plays, in which the Erdtree and Scadutree are burned at once in Messmer’s flame. Messmer speaks:

“Tarnished, hold my kindling aloft. From here, I shall do my part… O, Erdtree, and Scadutree both, ye shall burn together. For the sake of the new Lord, and a new world, mended.”

You continue your journey to Farum Azula and then back to Leyndell, Capital of Ash. Sir Gideon Ofnir will have access to the incantation “Messmer’s Orb” in his fight (why wasn’t this a thing already???). At the Queen’s Bedchamber site of grace, you must choose to Speak to Messmer one last time:

“Ah… Thou art close. Within the Erdtree, I intend to confront my mother. If it be true she has become infirm, and lost all sense of self… Then I shalt taketh her place. The Two Fingers rejected me long ago, but I am yet capable. If it cometh to this, will thee be my Lord?”

>Accept

“I thank thee. We have come a long way, Tarnished.” small laugh “When it cometh to thee, I find I have no regrets. Take this, and when the bell tolls, summon me forth. To stand before my mother once again.”

Thus you will be granted this key item:

Mending Rune of the Abyssal Prince - Mending rune gestated by Messmer the Impaler. Used to restore the fractured Elden Ring when brandished by the Elden Lord. Formed of a swirling mass of serpents, and the base serpent biting its own tail. It will embed a Shadow lost back into the Golden Order, restoring balance. The “base” in the base serpent’s name refers both to its nature and the place it once belonged, at the roots of the Erdtree where light does not reach.

After defeating Radagon and Elden Beast, you will have the option to summon Messmer from a shadowy summon sign on the ground, giving this final cutscene:

“‘Those who walk alongside flame shall one day meet the road of Destined Death’… Yet, it seemeth my road hast led me back to thee.”

“Mother… Thee may rest now. I shall put thee, and this world, back together again…”

Messmer gently gives Marika’s head to you, and you place it upon her body, the Elden Ring becoming mended with the abyssal rune. The scene lingers on her as the shadows in the background deepen, and as a squelching sound grows in volume, soon thunderous. From the darkness suddenly emerges the abyssal serpent to swallow her whole, its red eyes burning against the dark:

The scene cuts to black.

Messmer narrates the final scene, showcasing the now physical Erdtree grafted unto its Scadu counterpart: “The fallen leaves tell a story… Of a Tarnished who became Elden Lord... And the serpent that became a god. A god that ushered in a gentle dark, so that this shattered world may heal.

So that the light of Gold can shine ever more brilliantly, against an Age of Shadow."

[lottie-for-short]

HELLO!

It's been a while . I finished school so I have more time now to focus on growing my accounts ♡

I drew this beautiful lady(Valeria)from Oh mother where art thou? IF @ohmotherwhereartthou-if

This IF has a special place in my heart ♥︎ I can't EXPLAIN the number of times I cried cause of this IF the author really has a way with words i say! And I REALLY REALLY LOVEEEE ALL HER CHARACTERS !

So I was so SO HAPPY when one of my Absolute FAV Authors asked me to draw her lovely Characters ♡♡♡

[itstheendofthegoddamnworld]

Swallowed Whole by The Flame (Messmer the Impaler x Tarnished! Reader) 5

MASTERLIST

PREVIOUS | NEXT

Summary: You go on a hunt to find Redmane Freyja.

A/N: Oh boy, another fight scene that I cannot write. This chapter mentions scenes of violence: blood, gore, swearing - all the fun things.

A03 link

-

Chapter 5: Challenge

"If thee dare betray me, I shall maketh sure thou art never blessed by mine own mother's grace again."

It haunts you his exact words, whispered as if death was watching your every move.

It's a challenge, though one where he can judge you for how foolish you are. If he really wanted you to do all this for his loyalty, you would've rather faced the golden hippopotamus again.

You tell yourself you'll prove him wrong, and wipe that smug attitude away when you return. That is if you do it in time. There is a sense of doom to your mission, one you think could go wrong. Redmane Freyja - someone you didn't get the chance to speak to - is a warrior through and through. Capable of standing for herself, and impressive in her prowess. 

Having followed the Moorth Highway south, avoiding furnace golems and trolls that sit by ransacked carriages. By the time you see the ruins on the second night, darkness has fallen, and rain slashes in front of you. You decide it's best to take a rest.

You sit by the closest site of grace, and rain shields your vision, giving less visibility, but it is only the grace you look upon, watching intensely.

Torrent nudges you out of your thoughts momentarily, bringing a gentle hand out to feed him berries you gathered, whilst you rip at the bark-like cured meat. "What have I gotten myself into, Torrent?" You whisper to him tentatively, as your stead munches happily on the treats you provide. A flash of lightning casts the tree behind you to look like a mighty beast, yet you do not jump. Instead, you sigh, your body aches and your mind wishes for rest. "Doom follows me, and I can only welcome it."

Sleep does not come easy, not that it has for many nights.

When morning comes, you dismount from Torrent, and the stead disappears out of sight, back into the whistle for when you need him next. The ruins are a large formidable mess, crumbling from age with the heat of the stone burnt from eternal flames. You're aware of its underground structures, but it is not that you're interested in.

For in the centre, stands the person you've been looking for.

"Tarnished, I am pleased to see you made it out alive from the Shadow Keep." Freyja greets you smoothly, turning to face you, "Is the deed done? Is the tyrant dead?"

"No Lady Freyja, he is not." 

The woman only gives a hum to your answer, "That is a shame. I will have no doubt when I tell Lady Leda, she will not be too pleased either. 

"She will not hear of this news, Freyja," There was a sense of acceptance to your words. You pull forth your nagakiba, bending your knees as you hold a defensive stance, "For I have come for your life instead."

She is silent for what feels like forever until you hear the absurd thing. Laughter. She is laughing at you. "Did your new lord ask of you to do this? Ah, you foolish girl, what have you done?"

You don't answer her, but you feel something boil inside you. Fight me. Fight me now. "Do you believe Lady Leda will not hear of this? The news of my death will trigger my allies to come find you. Do you not hear yourself, who will stand with you? Miquella will not take lightly hearing of your deception."

It is only with a heavy sigh that eases you. She unsheathes her great sword, flashing like a giant sun. "Very well, Tarnished. May your foolishness be your undoing."

"May it be then." You say, and before you in a flash, she charges.

Metal hisses against metal as the great sword hits the side of your armour on your chest, caught mostly by your nagakiba, thankful that it does not slice through. It does, however, leave a long scratch down the steel.

You grunt. Freyja is a mighty warrior you admit, but she sweeps with her great sword with the intent of hacking your head off rather than trying to whittle you down. A foolish mistake, you note, rolling out of the way as her great sword swings down, hitting the very spot you just stood on.

You land a quick slash towards her, having almost no effect as she dodges easily, grabbing you tightly by the forearm and headbutting you with a crack that you think has split your skull. She tosses you backwards, her laughter raucous and vexing.

You continue to circle her, darting back and forth, slicing, which makes her have to try looking out for you. She makes for a big target, swinging her great sword around as she huffs and grunts like a beast not wanting to surrender. A true warrior of Radahn, you wonder why she chose to leave him. For what feels like ages, you both jab at one another, taking turns with neither gaining a hit or dodging the last second. Only one of your slashes with your nagakiba gets her on the back of her leg and you smile in victory underneath your helm, only to dodge out the way clumsily from another one of her heavy-hitting attacks.

"You're slow, Tarnished." Freyja mocks. "Is this the warrior Messmer fought? I feel sorry for him."

You hiss, slashing at her most vulnerable areas, legs, arms, twice at the shoulders in an attempt to get her to become sluggish. Freyja would not slow though, grunting from time to time, but overall seemingly not injured.

You wonder if Messmer did all of this as a cruel joke- to have you face the largest and most formidable of Miquella's followers. It would be easy to laugh too, for you were indeed the fool who accepted. 

You continued, earning a slash to your shoulder at one point that has you promptly rummaging for a healing flask, dodging another attack as you down it. Your shoulder feels stiff, but it has healed the wound quickly enough for you to keep going for her. Circling, slashing, rolling. On and on, this dance goes on until you do begin to notice she is becoming slower.

You stagger her with a parry, going up behind her in a flash to stab her through the rib, getting through the gap in her armour as you kick her forward. Blood ruptures out as she gives a loud grunt, cursing you loudly as she lands on her feet before you can attack her again.

"I will not die today, Tarnished." You can hear her gritting her teeth, leaping like a cat into the air, her sword and herself swinging in time before she lands on the ground right in front of you. Debris and dirt hit you, rocks scrapping your exposed areas not covered by armour and you're flung backwards, landing not so gracefully on your back from the force of her landing. She strides towards you, thinking victory is ahead.

You roll to stand, thinking swiftly as you pull forth a perfume bottle, throwing it her way. It casts pockets of fire in her way, and she stumbles through it, patting herself as you can hear the sound of her blood bubbling and boiling from her cuts.

The next foolish thing you could do whilst she was occupied with the perfumed flames was charge towards her, running through the flames you cast as you scream, leaping onto her, kicking her in the gut that she is winded enough to have her great sword knocked from her hand. Now with her unarmed, you raise your nagakiba over your head, thinking it would be enough to strike the exposed part of her neck to give her a quick death, only to find she is slamming her fist into your gut too, not once, twice, knocking your sword from hand as she lands a punch to the side of your face, knocking you off her and onto the ground.

You scrabble, as she gets up, wheezing and whimpering as you pull forth another weapon. Small and delicate, the knife from your pocket would need to do a lot of damage, only she laughs at the measly size of it, charging you once more.

You dodge another punch to the side of your head, fear coursing through you, feeling more afraid than ever before. To be classed a traitor to all was not what you wanted, but you could feel yourself needing another flask immediately.

Freyja caught sight of it as you tried to reach for it, grabbing your wrist and twisting, releasing the bottles as they flew overhead you both, crashing with a shatter against some debris, clearly broken.

You can taste blood in your throat, coughing some up the more you move. Everything burns, pain that moves from one part of your body to the next part, screaming for rest, mercy. Freyja cries, raising her hands over her head as if ready to slam her fists down upon you when you see an opening. The exposed part of her armpit is uncovered, the blood seeping is her own. You miss the fists to your head, gripping the knife and using your other hand to drive it upwards, screaming with the force.

Freyja only hisses when you're face to face with her now. Her golden-masked face is all you can see, but you wish to believe her face has written on it either fear or approval. You don't think it's been driven hard enough into her chest, driving it deeper which earns a louder cry from her, followed by shallow, deep breathing.

"You fought well, Tarnished." She wheezes, "I pray Kindly Miquella will think the same."

With a final curse, she bends, falling to her back, her breathing ceasing with the blade poking out between her skin and armour. 

It was only when you felt the sense of victory wash over that you felt something was off. Pain kicks in, replacing the adrenaline with a stinging sensation that begins to burn between your ribs. Horror rushed over you, catching you off guard. A cold sweat washes over. Crying out, you jump back away from Freyja's crumpled body, running shaky hands over your body to find what was sticking out of you. Oh Gods. You dread, crying out as a blade you hadn't noticed she had pulled forth, with a handle as thick as your forearm was now protruding in your side.

You had felt many deaths before and suffered great injuries, but none had been so foul as the feeling of torture before death came. You needed to find a site of grace before you lost everything. Gritting your teeth, your hands gripped the handle to the blade, reeling back from the pain of it so far lodged into you. One, two, three! You didn't want to give yourself any time to react as you pulled it out from you, screaming from both the alleviation and fear bubbling in your mind. 

Immediately, your legs gave way and you fell backwards, limbs numb as you still held the bloody knife in your grip. You groaned in disgust, throwing it away as you remembered through it all that you couldn't just leave without the proof Messmer asked for.

"He better be fucking grateful." You spat, clutching your bleeding side as you tried your best to even kneel. With only the knife on you to use, it would be better for hacking than the thinner blade of your nagakiba. You knew what you had to do. Staring down at Freyja's corpse, you kicked off her helm, revealing a mass of unruly hair. 

"Forgive me." You whispered, revealing her neck as you pressed the knife into her flesh, the sounds of hacking and sawing could be heard through the ruins.

Once off, you threw the head into a bag, tying it to your belt as you whistled for Torrent. It was hard not to stop yourself from gagging, the thick smell of blood wafted in the air, creating an even fouler stench in the ruins. You had been through worse, you reminded yourself, dying is now as familiar to you as waking up in the morning, but even on the verge of death, it was the worst feeling to experience. It was not the same as just suffering a quick and easy one, waking up by grace fully healed. 

Once here, Torrent stands solemnly beside you, warily swaying as his beady eyes access you. It takes some effort to mount him, for the beast is patient, and you can only silently thank him for not bucking you off for how many times you try getting your leg over. Finally atop, your skin feels both hot and cold, your armour was sticking to your skin as if it was boiling you alive from the inside. The soft fur of Torrent was all you had to concentrate on, despite the feeling that your brain wanted to switch off. You fight it for as long as you can, hoping Torrent can guide you the way you came. 

You didn't know how long you had been travelling back when the pain was ebbing away at your consciousness, your body was weakened and struggling to stay atop Torrent. Your skin had paled, hands were jittery as you lost the strength in your fingers to hold the reins. Your vision was spiralling, swaying like the waves of the shoreline, not certain what was up and what was down, but the feeling of your body swaying, and finally, falling and falling in slow motion.

You thudded to the ground, Torrent halting as he inspected you with a muzzle to your face, coaxing you to stay awake. 

"Torrent." Breathing noisily, you would apologise to him when you found yourself at a site of grace. You dreaded knowing you would fail at Messmer's quest in his mind, but before you could think further of it, darkness swarmed your vision, and you thanked whoever was watching over you finally gave you comfort.

From the darkness, came distant, cold dreams, filling your mind with doubt:

..."They are incredible, are they not?" There is a sense of dread and awe as you stare up at the sky, bright and bold with the sounds of dragons. The creatures, large in age, sweep and dive down, creating rushes of wind to almost knock back the men who stand on the ground. Some are still wary, when the dragons came once, it had been to destroy towns and wage wars. Now, having them as allies was an unseen miracle. "It is your friendship with them that is outstanding." You marvel, turning to the man beside you, as regal and charming as those with royal blood. He carries himself with a way of understanding all, a calming presence that all could admire. He smiles at you, resting a hand on your shoulder. "I am certain they would love to meet thee. I have told them much and more." "Me? I am just a mere knight, here to serve, my Lord." "Yes, but my most trusted ally and loyal friend." The man chuckles, leading you down as if now is the right time to introduce you to the winged creatures.

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

... "Mother is to remarry again." The regal man says, this time you don't know how much time has passed. There is a slight tinge of disappointment in his words. He has his back towards you, the parchment thrown across his apartments. "I received her message when I broke my fast." "You know to whom?" You ask. "The Carian Queen's former husband, Radagon." "And of your father? What becomes of him?" "He is to begin his long march with many of his armies, my mother has decreed." He turns to you, sorrow that was not just in his voice but in his eyes. "She asks that thee join." You don't wish to, you want to plead and beg, but this sadness is not just felt in him but yourself, something you cannot understand nor explain. You think this man is unknown to you, so why do you feel such disgrace? All you can do is nod, acceptance heavy in your chest. "Very well, my Lord."

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

... A half bottle of wine is now neglected, and large calloused hands dance along your hips and thighs, lips pressed to the pulse point of your neck. "Let me speak to my mother," the man uttered, pulling you closer on his lap, "she will let thee stay." "I can't," you say, his hands felt so realistic in the fogginess of your mind, fingers stroking his jawline, "it is my duty not just to serve you, but your family as well." "I know, my sweet knight." He murmurs in understanding, a sense of despair consumes him, and when he tries to pick you up to continue things in the bedroom, you stop him. "Not yet, my Lord. I only wish to be in your arms tonight. One final night before I must leave." He smiles, kissing you with the need to remember the outline of your lips. "Anything for thee."

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

... A battlefield of blood and bone, ash and carnage. Men in golden armour surround you, in the dying, groaning for mercy and death, their voices dying down in numbers. You clutch your bleeding chest, holding a grand ornate sword in hand, and sweet tears drip from your eyes. You cough, spluttering crimson blood that dribbles down your chin. You stare up at the endless sky, with a man's name being muttered from your lips as you die. 

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

Your lungs burn when you wake from a death-like sleep, coughing up the air and drinking it in as if you can still somehow feel the cold blade deep in your chest. You go to touch it, only to remember that it was all a dream.

"Easy, milady," a voice pulls you back to reality, and when you look at your surroundings, you're not staring into the golden strips of grace, but the roaring flames of a fire. Opposite you, sits a nomadic merchant, plucking at the strings of his instrument, "your wounds are still open."

Messmer. Is your first thought, and you dread to wonder if he thinks you've betrayed him. You're careless in the way you try to stand, running a hand over where the blade stuck through you, only to find heavy bindings that have been kept to stop the bleeding. You hiss softly, guilt pouring through at the attempt this merchant has made to keep you alive.

"It shall be enough to get you to find a proper healer if you're quick." He says in a soft tone, watching you through clouded eyes, his face half covered. 

"Torrent... where is Torrent?" You're blinking back from the intensity of the fire in front of you, blinking back tears you're certain to have come from the cinders, not your life-like dreams. 

"Ah, your stead," the merchant points, and through the bushes, you spot Torrent, munching on berries with no care in the world. "We found you in the nick of time, milady. If we had been any later, well... you would've been a goner."

You try to laugh at that, but you're unsure if he knows you're Tarnished. "Thank you," you stand shakily to your feet, throwing a coin his way that he accepts with some surprise, "I must be going now."

"I must warn you, Messmer's soldiers lurk on the roads. Best to keep to the woods." The merchant speaks with uncertainty as you coax Torrent to come to you. He does, stroking his snout before climbing atop. You feel just about better now that you've had time to rest, but you need to head back to Aldwin so he can stitch you back up. You've been gone so long without a site of grace that you fear you will begin to wither.

"It is alright," you speak earnestly. "He is looking for me."

-

A/N: I am aware that it's recommended not to pull sharp objects out of you unless you wish to bleed to death, but I guess Tarnished thinks it's the smartest plan. I do wonder who this mysterious man is-- oh well, I guess we'll never know *wink wink*

[dduane]

Trying on clothes

...Not me. Him. :)

This is a "medieval outfit" set from a digital art maker whose work I hadn't previously come across. Got it on sale and am now putting it through its paces.

(All of these dForce-supporting digital outfits claim to be able to move well and drape properly when your character changes position. Some of them actually do. Some of them, though, are hilariously badly rigged to the point where you wonder how the maker managed to produce the sample shots. The only way you can work out what you've got is to run a character through a sequence of increasingly difficult poses and see how many of the costumes continue to work correctly.)

Anyway, I'm not doing that today: just casually testing some of the materials that come with this new set. The one above is the "default" set. It doesn't look too bad—the main problem with it being that it's currently canonically difficult to get the new king of Arlen into colors so light. (While outlawed and on the run, Freelorn was for years unable to wear his normal black-and-white livery, lest he be recognized and promptly killed for the dead-or-alive price on his head.)

This colorway would be a bit more along his preferred lines.

...A bit. Not sure about the gold striping and cowled shoulder. (I don't know yet whether I can vanish the stripe. An experiment for later.)

ETA: Yeah, that materials region can be vanished, all right. Not sure the results are quite what I had in mind, though. :/

...Now I'm going to have to see if there's a way for me to fix that problem and keep the background texture without it looking like a kludge. (Quick answer: Probably not.)

(sigh)

...Anyway. This texture would be another story. If that blue were silver or grey, he'd be all over this one.

...It's also difficult to see in the above shot, but the designer has done some nice detail work on the patterned parts of the textures. (click here to see the shoulder/collar area)

Meanwhile, some of these are just too "Dost Thy Mother Know Thou Wearest Her Drapes?" for Lorn to ever even allow them near his closet. (And honestly, other fabric textures like this one are making me wonder what the designer was thinking of. Oh well.)

...Anyway, no more of that. This is a bit more like it.

...And there'll be time enough later for more experimentation. (While puzzling over the question of why the hell the maker hasn't provided any boots with this. The ones in the images above come from some other outfit....)

Though as usual the real question is: How will this look with a swordbelt?... :)

[storm-angel989]

I just read your latest one shot and I got this crazy brainrot. What if Lucifer's eldest fell? An angel who never knew of hell or evil, who fell because of her undying curiosity of it?

Oh gosh this took a hot minute- so sorry I'm behind on requests! This follows the first request of similar nature and will probably end up being a multi-part series if it gets good feedback and folks enjoy it! It was fun to write- I love switching POV's!

She didn’t understand why her father wouldn’t let her learn about hell. 

“But Dad, isn’t it better for me to understand, to avoid?” She pleaded the first time she was caught in his library. Digging through books she had no business being in, Adam lifted her up and cast her across the room carelessly. 

“Honor thy father and mother,” her father responded casually. “So stay the fuck away from those books because I said so. Got it?”

He walked away without another care in the world. Honestly, he probably didn’t. At the ripe age of seventeen, reader had learned If it wasn’t related to his girlfriend or his dick, her father simply wasn’t interested. 

Not that the idea was a new realization for her. Her father treated her with immense disdain. Her entire childhood had been a mix of severe punishment, harsh words, and next to no praise. She remembered standing, waiting outside the school door, reading alone for hours until he eventually showed up to take her home. 

But his mistreatment didn’t stop her burning thirst for knowledge. Given the copious amounts of alone time, she snuck into his library and read all there was to know about the angels- about their history. About the creation of humanity. She had gotten her hands on the final book the night Adam caught her. With this one final act of disobedience, and the stark ignorance of the newly formed angelic council, her father himself ripped her halo off and cast her into the pits of hell. 

Now as she stood alone in the dusty streets, the stench of poverty and failure wrapped her in a chokehold. Aimlessly, she wandered, desperately trying to find her way back to heaven. Back to her home. 

“Child? Art thou alone?” She heard a voice behind her. 

Her eyes fell to the tallest creature she had ever seen. He spoke in an accent, oldest than even the eldest angels. His robe was cooked in black, and save for the patched of green that outlined his face and his body, he could have been a shadowy. She looked down at the tattered remnants of her white gown. She supposed she was, but had enough sense to deny it vehemently.  After all, hell was evil and no one down here meant anything good. 

“I don’t believe thou,” the strange man answered. “Come, child. Allow me to return you to your home. Where you belong.” 

His hand wrapped in shadows around her upper arm and before she could protest, she felt herself yanked forward, wind rushed around her. She closed her eyes, terror sinking into her heart. This was death, she was sure of it. 

This was the hell her father spoke of.

[the-white-void]

THOSE LOST IN TIME SEARCHING FOR WHAT CANNOT BE FOUND

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Caged little bird - You, who once held so much power, abandoned it all for freedom from the one who loved you most, yet, they still crawl from the death of your mind to drag you back.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Escape of the Burdened Oni - one unworthy of such treatment, you grant them the presence of your benevolence (date).

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Mine Mother - One favoured by the world's sentience

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Divine Mischief - Oh, mischievous god toys around with their little followers.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Little Bird, why do you Sing such a sad Tune - those of the dive favour their pet, until it runs away and meets its one look-alike from another world.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Bloody Mary - Blood of gold stained the soil of the world that was supposed to revere your name, yet, you treated like a vile villain that plagued this world. And when the world knew the truth, only carnage filled your eyes.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ "O Divine Creator, we humbly bow to you whilst you're on your throne-" I'M ON MY TOILETTE!!! - As you innocently play Genshin on your phone, the seven Archons that are known in the game claim you as their creator. All while you were releasing the remains of the sustenance you had from the past two days.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ You are my only Haven -  A little girl watches over a human that she has waited so long to meet “Will you please wake up? I’m really lonely” she whispers hoping to see your eyes and hear your voice.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Teyvat's Diary - Teyvat, a small oblivious creature, only sees the world formed on her by humans through eyes that do not belong to her. All her thoughts were written in her diary.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Teyvat's opinion about the children - what the sentience of teyvat thinks about the children.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Unbounded by the trivial - You are an imposter but you don’t really care about anything anymore so you just let it be, it’s not like if you try hard enough you could change it.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ "Who are you? Wait, there's TWO?!" - simple texts between what was supposed to be nothing but an AI, yet, how did casual texting two Tsaritsa's end up with both coming to your world.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Moving On - You're moving away. We want you back.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ My Momma - little scenarios with a child’s mother figure

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Otherworldly Things *Part 2- The archons come to your world but cannot return to theirs, so they start getting to know yours.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ La Seine (Monster in Paris AU) - Running away from the captors along with a friend, you find yourselves in a bar where you end up dancing together to hide from the guards.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Let the Play Begin - The Imposter is caught. How shall the play end?

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Life, Death, Rebirth - “Thee hadst been thrown into teyvat wh’re i did rule. Thou art mine own heir, mine own physical f'rm, yet those daws besmirch t by leaving thee with scars and wounds. And i shall nay longeth'r standeth aside while those imbeciles taketh our headeth”

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ "The Story" 1 2 3 4 - This story is a Samsara, one you cannot control. *WARNING* this work may contain topics or language that may make some audiences uncomfortable.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Scriptor De Re - The Traveler is known for their grand accomplishment throughout Teyvat, but who pulls the strings behind the scenes.

Special

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖₊˚⊹ Interactive Player AU - A story you build. You decide each choice [name] makes. And each choice could change how the story progresses and ends.

✧˖°. How it works - You send an ask of who your character is and where they start. The story begins until you need to make the choice again, there, the fic will stop until you decide what happens next. Long story short, a role-playing game.

Works

Dès le Début: Noraa 1 by: @udretlnea

[atrociousgargamelitis]

The first time I watched Helluva Boss, I was sure that Blitzø was my favourite character. I recognized he was a jackass of course, seeing how smitten Stolas was over him and how he did not give a singular fuck. But when I rewatched it (and I think that this is the case for a lot of Helluva Boss watchers) , I realised that Blitzø's behaviour towards Stolas, while "rude", was completely logical and valid. We get to see Stolas have all these grant feelings for Blitzø, we see him wishing Blitzø would love him, wallowing in despair and slowly slipping into alcoholism and, at first, we don't grasp that Blitzø does not get to see that. It becomes particularly apparent after the rewatch, because in the second season Stolas is much more upfront about his feelings with Blitzø, while in the first season, pre episode 7 at least, he DOES treat Blitzø like one of his butler imps. And if not as a butler imp, then he definitely takes advantage of him. That's not to say Blitzø is Mother Teresa, don't get me wrong. But Blitzø, from the beginning, went into this with the mindset of "oh ok, so we're both taking advantage of eachother, cool I guess" and, to be fair, their power dynamic, which undoubtedly had Stolas in charge, along with the fact that Stolas didn't really SHOW him the opposite (+ when he kind of awkwardly tried, Blitzø was not in a position to believe him), gave Blitzø 0 reason to change said mindset. He grew fond of Stolas and started warming up to him, we see that in the Full moon where he knows what sex toys Stolas likes, he dresses up for him etc, but the cold, hard truth is that everything Blitzø told Stolas while they were fighting was the reality from his point of view. He put it bluntly and sharply but everything he said was true to him.

In conclusion, oh tragic irony thou art a heartless bitch.

[ohmotherwhereartthou-if]

Attention!

She has arrived.

Ahhhhh!!!! Masterfully done, as always @lottie-for-short has gone and done it again.

Here is Cassandra in all of her glory. She is so perfect. 😍

Once again, please give Lottie your love and praise for blessing our eyes with her greatness.

[annemarieyeretzian]

yalena telling dutch “anger’s good. until it hurts you more than it heals you.”

[sassenach77yle]

What are ye laughing at, a nighean?” Her father loomed out of the night, smelling of horses. “Everything,” she said, scooching over to make room for him to sit beside her. It was true. Everything seemed suddenly bright, the candlelight from the windows of the Big House, the fireflies in the grass, the glow of Roger’s face when he told her his desire. She could still feel the touch of his mouth on hers; it fizzed in her blood.

Jamie reached up and fielded a passing firefly, holding it for a moment cupped in the dark hollow of his hand, where it flashed on and off, the cool light seeping through his fingers. Far off, she heard a brief snatch of her mother’s voice, coming through an open window;

Claire was singing “Clementine.” Now the boys—and Roger—were howling at the moon, though it was no more than a pale sickle on the horizon. She felt her father’s body shake with silent laughter, too.

“It reminds me of Disneyland,” she said on impulse.

“Oh, aye? Where’s that?” “It’s an amusement park—for children,” she added, knowing that while there were such things as amusement parks in places like London and Paris, these were purely adult places. No one ever thought of entertaining children now, beyond their own games and the occasional toy. “Daddy and Mama took me there every summer,” she said, slipping back without effort to the hot, bright days and warm California nights.

“The trees all had little sparkling lights in them—the fireflies reminded me.” Jamie spread his palm; the firefly, suddenly free, pulsed to itself once or twice, then spread its wings with a tiny whir and lifted into the air, floating up and away.

“Dwelt a miner, forty-niner, and his daugh-ter, Clementine . . .”

“What was it like, then?” he asked curiously. “Oh . . . it was wonderful.” She smiled to herself, seeing the brilliant lights of Main Street, the music and mirrors and beautiful, beribboned horses of King Arthur’s Carrousel. “There were . . . rides, we called them. A boat, where you could float through the jungle on a river, and see crocodiles and hippopotamuses and headhunters . . .” “Headhunters?” he said, intrigued. “Not real ones,” she assured him. “It’s all make-believe—but it’s . . . well, it’s a world to itself. When you’re there, the real world sort of disappears; nothing bad can happen there.

They call it ‘The Happiest Place on Earth’—and for a little while, it really seems that way.”

“Light she was, and like a fairy, and her shoes were number nine, Herring boxes without topses, sandals were for Clementine.”“And you’d hear music everywhere, all the time,” she said, smiling. “Bands—groups of musicians playing instruments, horns and drums and things—would march up and down the streets, and play in pavilions. . . .” “Aye, that happens in amusement parks. Or it did, the once I was in one.” She could hear a smile in his voice, as well. “Mm-hm. And there are cartoon characters—I told you about cartoons—walking around. You can go up and shake hands with Mickey Mouse, or—” “With what?” “Mickey Mouse.” She laughed. “A big mouse, life-size—human-size, I mean. He wears gloves.” “A giant rat?” he said, sounding slightly stunned. “And they take the weans to play with it?” “Not a rat, a mouse,” she corrected him. “And it’s really a person dressed up like a mouse.” “Oh, aye?” he said, not sounding terribly reassured. “Yes. And an enormous carrousel with painted horses, and a railroad train that goes through the Rainbow Caverns, where there are big jewels sticking out of the walls, and colored streams with red and blue water . . . and orange-juice bars. Oh, orange-juice bars!” She moaned softly in ecstatic remembrance of the cold, tart, overwhelming sweetness. “It was nice, then?” he said softly.

“Thou art lost and gone forever, Dreadful sor-ry . . . Clementine.”

“Yes,” she said, sighed, and was silent for a moment. Then she leaned her head against his shoulder, and wrapped her hand around his arm, big and solid. “You know what?” she said, and he made a small interrogatory noise in reply.

It was nice—it was great—but what I really, really loved about it was that when we were there, it was just the three of us, and everything was perfect. Mama wasn’t worrying about her patients, Daddy wasn’t working on a paper—they weren’t ever silent or angry with each other. Both of them laughed—we all laughed, all the time . . . while we were there.” He made no reply, but tilted his head so it rested against hers. She sighed again, deeply.

“Jemmy won’t get to go to Disneyland—but he’ll have that. A family that laughs—and millions of little lights in the trees.”

A breath of snow and ashes

Season 7 episode 2 “The Happiest Place on Earth”

[cant-kill-me-if-im-already-dead]

August 8:

Well, I'm traveling again! New faces, new places. But I still miss the old ones. I promised myself that I would see this through, but I'm not sure exactly what I'm doing here. Is this what adulthood is? Just going through the motions, every day, until you die? Is this what Sunnie's been doing since Mom died? Is this what Tori's been doing for the last six years? I wish I knew how she was doing, or where she ended up. Gods, I don't even know if she's still alive… best not dwell on that idea too much.

[mentha-vacciniumrainbow]

Zestmilla tickle fights with the girls?

Nice idea, can do! (Hope you enjoy, is a silly little thing 💜)

《Clara, no 》 warned Carmilla, but it was all useless, as her daughter got ready to pounce on her

《Clara yes! 》 The kid screamed, jumping from the top of the wardrobe and onto her mother, her little hands busy tickling her 《I got you! Mum is my prisoner now! 》

《Stop it! I'm serious! 》 scolded Carmilla between laughters, carefull to move herself so that both her and her daughter would hit a soft surface when they would inevitably fall 《No TV the whole weekend! No spicy chips! No... No skateboarding! 》

《Worth it! 》 giggled the child, well aware that none of those threats would be followed by action. Her mum liked to act as she didn't enjoy their surprise attacks, but truth was, she could always see them coming from a mile away and never did anything to stop them from happening

《Stop! 》 She ordered again, as they fell on the bed and her dearest friend entered the room, alerted by the noise but not particularly panicked

《Zestial, a little help, please! 》 She pleaded, but Zestial, her oldest friend, the almost father of her daughters, her lighthouse in the storm, simply watched her with a knowing smirk, as he made his way towards them

《Thou doth not seem to particularly mind, mine dear 》 he noted, simply standing as her hyperactive child had the time of her life tickling her and undoing her neat updo.

So, apparently that was how he wanted to play, this time

《Traitor 》

《At least thou art getting cuddles 》 he comforted, and Clara stopped her assault to look at him dead in the eyes, a fanged smile brightening her round little face even more

《Don't worry jefe*, we won't make you feel left out》

《We? 》 asked Zestial, starting to look around the room, but it was already too late

《SURPRISE ATTACK 》

《Odette! 》

The child threw herself from the chandelier, successfully managing to knock Zestial to the ground and climb on him to deliver her own ticklish assault

《I'm speed, I'm stealth, I'm grace, I'M THE INVISIBLE TICKLER! 》

《I see thee perfectly, little lambkin 》 he laughed, still a bit out of breath, as he tried to rise, but his daughter was of a different opinion, and climbed on his chest as she pulled a long feather out of her sleeve

《Not for long! Feather attack! 》

《No! Not the feather, my only weakness 》 he played along 《show some mercy, I beg thee! 》

《No! Clara, I need help, dad is too tall to tickle alone! 》

《Reinforces are coming! 》

Assured the other, climbing off of her mother and joining her twin in her endeavour.

As his two beloved little menaces went wild on him and his poor clothes, Zestial noticed his dearest swiftly recomposing herself and preparing to slither out of the room

《Carmilla, mine dear... 》

He tried in his meekest voice, but this time it was her turn to smirk as she watched from above

《Na-ah. You were ready to leave me to my destiny, I'm leaving you to yours. Good luck, dear friend! 》

With a satisfied smile, she made her escape and closed the door behind her.

"Oh well, I deserved it." He thought "Yet, I shall nonetheless have my own ticklish revenge on mine loveliest lady... after our little ones are settled for the night, without a doubt."

*"Jefe" is the Spanish word for "boss", but is also affectionately/respectfully used for one's parents. I have a whole headcanon around it -used in my main fanfiction "You bring back my Springtime"-, but long story short, it's Clara's way of indirectly recognising Zestial as her dad, where Odette is more explicit.