#unnamed species (for now)

[mossfeathers]

who else up au posting rn (botw treebark au w/ @loafofryebread)

original + plain art

hey if youre down here... consider sending an ask abt these goofy fellas? (esp. if you like botw :3)

[transingthoseformers]

I saw your cybertronian ecologists post and as a biology major it hit me hard because there must have been cybertronian biologists or who maybe specialized in the study of a particular fauna or flora or lobbied for the conservation for the preservation of endangered species or dreamt of discovering new species who then had to watch it be destroyed by a war, who might have joined the fight and after an intense battle they are helping recovering the dead or injured or are stuck in trenches just to realize that this location was home to a species they always wished to see now turned to ash and smoke and the world of tfone had cybertronian deer do you think they find comfort in the animals and plants of earth because the ones back home are dead but in planet and maybe on others too there echoes of those species roaming about and so in way they have never died

ayyyy I'm also going into a biology major when I start college (again) later this year!!

AND YOU'RE RIGHT

YOU ARE VERY RIGHT THAT HAD TO HAVE HAPPENED😭😭😭

Yeah. That must have hurt. That must've hurt so much, and it might've been such a thing for them to arrive on Earth and see the organic life there

(and to worry if Earth's life would suffer the same fate as Cybertron's life did in this long, long war)

[owls-ocs]

New OC who I don’t have a name for yet

[wearerofsocksart]

jerboa creature of sorts for one of my irl besties :)

[rubywuurm]

[theshadowrealmitself]

You chose "send a distress signal and wait"

(Read before answering the poll)

You sent out a distress signal 20 minutes ago. The crew is uneasy sitting around like waiting ducks, but they're comforted by your confidence as captain.

Just as you start to feel some of that confidence waning, the computer beeps with an incoming message.

Someone has answered your signal!

But...it's not a ship you recognize. It's definitely not a Human ship, and in your panic, you are having trouble placing what species' the ship could possibly belong to.

The crew is looking at you expectantly, waiting for a decision.

[beeapocalypse]

grinding my teeth. unsure of how far i can push kitty b4 she goes from offputting to straight goofy

[pulsarspark]

One of the creatures from my headworld, it steals fries from people.

[rainbowolfe]

Why Aym and Baal?

They were, according to Shamura, supposed to be Narinder's replacement family/companions. Narinder never really got that memo, but like, what did Shamura expect? Relationships don't work that way. You can't just throw two strangers at someone and have them fill the void of a millennia-long relationship.

But the question of the hour is, why Aym and Baal? I don't think it's because they're cats.

It's implied Narinder had his own family (made up of cats or whatever he is) and chose the Bishops, a goofy assortment of non-mammals over those blood relations. So he's not exactly inclined towards members of his own species. So that doesn't feel like the reason why Shamura chose them. And it doesn't feel like the reason Narinder kept them.

I noticed that this photo from Jalala's journal had to have been of pre-servitude Aym and Baal, cause they're much younger. Baal's hair is shorter, they're both just wearing basic tunics instead of their signature robes, and Forneus isn't wearing her hat. So Aym's always looked a bit scuffed, and it wasn't the result of his time spent with TOWW in the Realm Beyond.

Which means Shamura saw him and went "wow that's literally Kallamar". Scar over one eye? Check. Messed up ears? Check. It would also loosely confirm that the boys were sent after they sealed Narinder, since Kallamar's ears wouldn't be scuffed before then.

It would be really funny if what Aym's looking at is Shamura, and this picture was taken 5 seconds before disaster.

Now, my first instinct was that Baal would be Narinder, and what Shamura hoped to recreate was Narinder's relationship with them and Kallamar. But that doesn't quite make sense. The new "family unit" already has a Narinder, so why would Shamura give him another?

Baal can't be filling Shamura's role for two reasons. One, as the head of the family, Shamura would be more likely to be Forneus (the role they are now placing Narinder in). If not Forneus, then the unseen father presumably taking this picture. Two, Shamura does not believe that Narinder loves them. That's. Kind of why they're doing all of this. So they wouldn't give him a replacement-Shamura either, unless they were feeling really really egotistical.

Which leaves us with two options.

And the correct one is Leshy. Leshy, whose core item is the red camellia. And whose symbol becomes a black heart when he's cleansed.

While we don't get to hear much from Baal, Heket's core traits are that she's a shit-talker and likes to eat. Leshy's core traits are that he's chaotic, but has an appreciation for/focus on the world around him. Smells, sights (when he could see), and sounds.

Baal is actually the politer of the two and, based on his recruitment dialogue ("So much color... so many creatures") he too is the worldly type. Also, Baal thanks Lamb for helping them. Leshy and Narinder are the only Bishops who thank Lamb in the end.

And, you know, if you take the order Shamura lists the family in into account, Leshy and Kallamar are the first and second sons respectively.

...

Of course, this can be taken one step further in another direction :3c I can't just leave Heket out of this.

Although Shamura only gave him Aym and Baal, theoretically what they saw was a four-person family unit that reflected their own... before Narinder entered the picture. I mentioned before that if Shamura isn't a reflection of Forneus, then they're a reflection of the unnamed father. (Who I suspect to be Paean)

Which means they saw Heket in Forneus.

Do you see the vision??

Cause this is a found family, age order doesn't necessarily matter to the familial hierarchy. Even if Shamura wasn't the eldest, they would still be the head (whether matriarch or patriarch) because their role is as the leader of the other three. Heket would be below Shamura, but above Kallamar and Leshy, because she serves as caretaker. She's even the one who takes charge upon Lamb's return, as the matriarch would do if something were to happen to the patriarch.

((Traditionally, while the father is seen as the protector and provider, his purpose is specifically to rule/lead the family. It is the mother whose sole purpose is to protect. Primarily the children, as their (often only) caretaker. But in traditional circles, it's commonly felt that the mother should sacrifice everything for the father as well.))

It would be particularly fitting because a lot of Heket's side of things revolves around sacrifice. How she's burdened by it, and seemingly how much she tried to do to find a better/different outcome. She's characterized as particularly family-inclined.

...

This would suggest that who Narinder valued the most in the family were Leshy and Kallamar. At least, it would suggest that's how Shamura saw it. But I'm liking this line of thought, so let's say their read is accurate.

Shamura saw that Narinder. Could also be Forneus. And Shamura loved Narinder the most, so...

Narinder and Heket's disdain for each other stems from them competing for the same role in their family: The matriarch. Shamura's second in command, and the boys' caretaker.

Not in a "raise them" type of way, at least not in Kallamar's case. But to guide and influence them. To be the one they trust and rely on. Heket has been that. And, intentionally or not, Narinder intrudes on that.

Narinder's the 'other woman' lmao

As a bonus:

Baal is aligned with his father (you get Tears of the Vengeful Father in exchange for him). Aym is aligned with his mother (ditto for Tears of the Merciful Mother).

If Aym = Kallamar; Baal = Leshy; Forneus = Heket; and The Father = Shamura

Then that dynamic is actually reflected in this Tarot Card. It pairs Kallamar with Heket, and Leshy with Shamura. :3

[bonefall]

Dunno if they properly count to be recycled but in 'Into the Wild' Dawncloud mentions having more kittens she doesn't want to be killed which can't be Blossom or Swamp who are dead by this point.

I'm counting them. I haven't named them yet, but in my notes, they're marked down as "WindClan Massacre 1" and "WindClan Massacre 2."

Dawncloud is a mess in-canon. She's an apprentice who's supposed to be an old queen with several litters, and a mate so old he should have been dead before she was born. The way I've decided to approach her is by making her more accurate to her TPB appearance; an old queen.

She is now Raggedstar's littermate.

A friend of Yellowfang's youth, along with Ashflame (previously ShC Ashfur).

Finchflight was a total git. The kind of husband that you really hope she divorces, but never does.

Nasty to her friends, really full of himself, a fantastic warrior who doesn't let you forget it.

"Dawcy, what do you see in that guy?" "Ohh, you don't know him like I do."

Together, they had several litters of kits. I'm still working out the nitty gritty details on how many litters and how many kits in each.

The oldest were the two who eventually die in the massacre. There weren't as many ShadowClan casualties as WindClan casualties that night, but they were strong warriors in the initial strike squad.

I'm thinking of giving them bird names-- Drake and Harrier, maybe. Finchflight would want his firstborn kits to have names like him, and Dawncloud would oblige.

Scorchwind is in a later litter. He was born after his uncle earned the honor title of Raggedpelt, and Dawncloud adored her brother's old name.

With his blessing, the unused, "lucky name" was passed to Scorchkit.

There's another "maybe" cat who might be hers-- a Glitch Warrior, the "Not Brokenstar" forest rogue from Rise of Scourge.

His WIP name is Braketail. A brake is a marshland dominated by one species of plant. I'm tempted to make his name Brakebone though.

May or may not stay in the Dawnkin family, though. Depends.

Since BB!Brokenstar both does not have the "child soldiers" plotline and has a much longer rule than his canon counterpart, Dawncloud is now the progenitor of some "kit saves."

Currently, Mossthorn is her lastborn.

Finchflight died while they were young, so their temperament is vastly different from his older siblings.

From there, Swampfang, Volewhisper, and Blossomfrost are grandchildren now.

Discopaw and her unnamed sibling (current WIP name Poppaw) may also be Dawnkin, depending.

I'm still deciding who the parents were, though.

Current draft is giving Swamp/Bloss/Vole to Mossthorn, but I might give them to one of the dead firstborns. I like the idea of Volepaw getting horribly mauled while rushing to his parent's defense.

Dawncloud there in the camp, burying two children and unsure if her grandson will survive his injuries, deciding in that moment she cannot lose another kit.

Sadly though, this doesn't have a happy ending. Dawncloud's family is devastated by Runningnose's plague.

Dawncloud, Mossthorn, Volewhisper, and Pop are taken out as Nightstar sympathizers. Disco and Swamp are targeted too, but survive.

Blossomfrost wanted to be a Cleric. She begged Runningnose to let her help, not knowing it was him who had unleashed it on the Clan that "betrayed" Brokenstar.

He warned her that the plague was dangerous, and that there were serious risks involved. She could have distanced herself from the infected, stayed safe. But she didn't.

Her death was unfortunate collateral. She was a bright young warrior with a good heart. A waste.

I'm unsure if Discopaw will stay in this family, but it's definitive that Crowfrost will be descended from Dawncloud. What defines this family is their bright, two-colored irises. Crow has cobalt ringed by brilliant blue frost.

To add insult to injury, I imagine Nightwhisper's name is a direct reference to Volewhisper. Probably Runningnose's idea; to have the first warrior that Tigerstar names be a repeat of the first title Nightstar gave.

'Let this be the sight you die seeing, Dawncloud,' Runningnose's subtle smile and gleeful eyes silently declare, 'I've taken your kits. I've trampled their honor. Everything you betrayed your Clan for was for nothing.'

It's only the beginning of TigerClan's tyranny, a droplet of the bloodbath to come.

[buskingalbatross]

results of a quest to identify the cicada in dnp’s rodent boy summer instagram post

[video: an audio comparison of dan howell's mediterranean cicada imitation and two real cicada species from the med]

abstract: following a perceived dearth of interest in the cicada latched onto the wall in one photo of the ten in dan and phil’s most recent joint vacation instagram post, the authors of this post (buskingalbatross and an anon who instigated this quest) have endeavored to determine its identity at the species level. using resources such as naturalism networking site iNaturalist, various scientific research articles, a databank of Mediterranean cicada song audio files, and Dan’s imitation of cicada screams in the AmazingPhil video “How Phil Nearly Died,” we have concluded that the cicada is most likely an East Aegean cicada (Cicada mordoganensis). obtaining these results would have been impossible had we not received assistance from @/bitchslapblastoids, who generously provided the herein unnamed geographical location* of dan and phil’s summer rat and relaxation destination. I would also like to thank @/pierogish for providing feedback on comparisons of cicada audio files with Dan’s cicada noises.

[image: the individual in question]

methods, results, and conclusions below the cut.

*the authors of this tumblr post would like to flaunt their scientific achievements unencumbered by potential discourses surrounding the unearthing of this location, and thus have chosen to omit its name from this post. the authors of this tumblr post nevertheless understand that the location can be discerned by those curious enough to discern it. the authors moreover state that they harbor no wish to compromise dan and phil’s privacy.  

methods and results

iNaturalist’s search feature was used to gain an awareness of what species of cicadas have been observed on the mediterrranean peninsula where dnp went on holiday. a spreadsheet was created to organize data such as cicada common names, scientific names, the number of observations for any given species, the reliability of those observations (that is, how likely the observer was to have correctly identified a cicada; a high quality identification is referred to on iNat as a research grade ID), the period of time in which a species is the densest in numbers (most prevalent in its aboveground habitat), appearance, and, finally, a link to an audio file containing each cicada species’ song. audio files were the last piece of data to be acquired, and so were added to the spreadsheet very last.

once a list of species had been determined and entered into the spreadsheet, we compared the appearences of each candidate cicada species to dnp’s instagram image. all in all, we looked at seven cicada species: the black sorrow cicada (Cicadatra atra), the ash cicada (Cicada orni), the common cicada (Lyristes plebejus), the red cicada (Cicada haematodes), the east aegean cicada (Cicada mordoganensis), the geminate cicada (Lyristes gemellus), and Cicada lodosi (a species name now possibly defunct but with 4 observations in the area of interest in the past five years).

[images: left - the east aegean cicada; right - the ash cicada]

then, I decided to read a truly excessive number of scientific research papers about cicadas in the mediterranean. why did I do this? besides reasons of entomology-associated passion (and legitimate professional interest), I did it because I learned that it turns out that basically, the aegean sea constitutes a “hot spot of cicada diversity,” with numerous species across different genera that nevertheless look—pretty much all the same! quite quickly, it became apparent that one blurry instagram image would be insufficient to determine the species. in fact, even if the image had been crystal clear, it wouldn’t have mattered. apparently, many cicadas of the eastern mediterranean are not morphologically distinct (meaning, again: some of them look identical) and what differentiates them is actually, primarily, their songs. they are “acoustically divergent,” with females being able to locate males of their own kind by their unique calls alone, not their looks. different species also tend to be distributed differently across this region, by which I mean some are only found on certain islands, or in certain areas of Italy, the Balkans, Greece, or Turkey, or Greece and Turkey, etc etc. I needed to read to form a better picture of all of this, essentially, and to gather clues.

[image: some of the papers I read]

after perusing all of this fascinating literature—and also squinting really hard at dnp’s picture and the photos of cicadas we had accumulated—I came to the conclusion that, most likely, the cicada was either Cicada orni, the ash cicada, or potentially more likely, Cicada mordoganensis, the east aegean cicada. both had three observations recorded in the region of interest (the most observations of any species), and both had the most similar coloration and patterning to dnp’s cicada. my predilection for the east aegean choice stemmed from two things: 1. the east aegean cicada observations were of a higher quality (research grade) than the ash cicada, and 2. the papers I had read were telling me that while east aegeans were prevalent along the entirety of the our region of interest, ash cicadas were more constrained, geographically, to northern Turkey and the Greek mainland. in fact, according to mediterranean cicada scientists, no ash cicadas had ever been found on islands as southeast as Samos and Ikaria, two islands relatively close to the peninsula where dnp’s cicada resides. this contradicted the observations on iNaturalist.

apparently, this difference in distribution has a lot to do with the tectonic and geographical history of the eastern mediterranean. where certain cicadas are today has a lot to do with where warm refuges from ancient glaciers existed thousands and millions of years ago (cicadas like the heat). also, and I should not necessarily subject you to this tangent, but did you know that about 5 million years ago the mediterranean sea simply gave up on existence for a little while? ... during the Messinian Salinity Crisis, the mediterranean simply stopped being a sea for a little while and almost dried up completely, allowing certain creatures that could not otherwise traverse an entire sea to disperse across it, except for where there is a huge ass canyon in the seafloor, and—

[images: highlighted, pertinent sections of papers discussing cicada distribution; relief map of the mediterranean seafloor]

anyway, what we were sorely missing at this stage were sound recordings of the cicadas. despite the evidence against the ash cicada, this cicada is still one of the most commonly found cicadas around the aegean sea. also, some of the studies I found were ten or more years old—who knows how climate change or other factors may have impacted the location of cicada populations since they were published.

while the audio of the cicadas outside in Phil’s video is poor, Dan does an imitation at 00:30 of what they’d been hearing during their trip. knowing Dan, this imitation is not merely a made-up, vaguely cicada-like noise, but an actually good approximation of the song that had been driving them crazy (this whole study mayhaps hinges on this lmao). if only we could uncover audio of these cicadas, maybe we could know for sure if this insect was of the ash or east aegean variety.

thankfully, at this point I was still reading papers. even more thankfully, the ten individuals who seemed to have cornered the market on mediterranean cicada studies since the 1970s made a website, and mentioned it in one of their papers. it is an exceptional, beautifully designed website called cicadasong.eu that evokes the ad-free, uncluttered, cozy and homemade feeling of the early noughties internet. it almost made me cry, and @/pierogish reported that seeing this website made her realize that in all these years recently spent online she had been choking, and only on cicadasong.eu was she finally able to breathe freely. on this website, there happen to be embedded YouTube videos of high quality audio recordings of all the european cicadas its creators have ever studied.

at last! comparisons of cicada songs to Dan commenced, and we were able to play the ash cicada’s sound alongside the east aegean’s and Dan’s. at the top of this post, you will find the compilation of these three sounds. here are the links to the original audio videos of the east aegean and ash cicada.

the main unit of sound—the chirp—of a cicada’s song is known scientifically as an “echeme”. in these audio files, you can perceive that, for the east aegean cicada, the duration of the echeme is longer, meaning the number of echemes per second is lower. this rhythm, and in general the structure of the east aegean cicada’s song was, in comparison to the ash cicada’s, deemed to the ear of all the authors and contributors definitively more similar to dan’s cicada song. thus, this final piece of evidence seemed to complement the rest of our data and confirm our initial assumption of the cicada’s identity.

conclusion

accumulated data has lent support to our hypothesis that the cicadas suffusing the atmosphere of dip and pip’s holiday resort with their ebullient, lascivious songs were east aegean cicadas.

[alphynix]

For a long time there were no hadrosaurid fossils known from Africa.

This seemed to mainly be due to the limits of the geography of their time. Hadrosaurs evolved and flourished during the late Cretaceous, when Africa was isolated from all the other continents, and they didn't seem to have ever found their way across the oceanic barriers.

…Until in 2021 a small hadrosaur was discovered in Morocco, a close relative of several European species, showing that some of these dinosaurs did reach northwest Africa just before the end of the Cretaceous - and with no land bridges or nearby island chains to hop along, they must have arrived from Europe via swimming, floating, or rafting directly across several hundred kilometers of deep water.

And now another hadrosaur has just been described from the same time and place.

Minqaria bata lived in Morocco at the very end of the Cretaceous, about 67 million years ago. Only known from a partial skull, its full appearance and body size is unknown, but it probably measured around 3.5m long (~11'6") – slightly larger than its previously discovered relative, but still very small for a hadrosaur. It might represent a case of insular dwarfism, since at the time Morocco may have been an island isolated from the rest of northwest Africa.

Along with its close relative Ajnabia, and at least one other currently-unnamed larger hadrosaur species, Minqaria seems to be part of a rapid diversification of hadrosaurs following their arrival in Morocco, adapting into new ecological niches in their new habitat where the only other herbivorous dinosaur competition was titanosaurian sauropods, and the only large predators were abelisaurs.

If the K-Pg mass extinction hadn't happened just a million years later, who knows what sort of weird African hadrosaurs we could have ended up with?

———

NixIllustration.com | Tumblr | Patreon

[asirensrage]

Title: One More Step Fandom: Tokyo Revengers Rating: Explicit Pairing: Izana x Unnamed/Undescribed Female OC Word count: 2072 Warnings: Dark!fic. Violence. Abuse. Threats. Gaslighting. Suicide attempt. Suicidal thoughts. Mention of "being shared". Seriously gaslighting. Implied future infantilization. Not a happy ending. Unbeta’d. *warnings are not exhaustive* Summary: There is only so far that you can corner an animal before it lashes out. Including her. Prompt: "Even if you got rid of me, you'd miss me. Admit it, you'd miss me."

Notes: based off of the prompt found here by @seaside-writings. Takes place in the future where Izana is controlling Toman (with Manila!Mikey). This was a lot of fun to write and I've enjoyed the reactions I've gotten so far, which has mainly been shock and horror lol. I hope you enjoy it.

now with a sequel!

**HEED THE WARNINGS**

She’s straddling his chest, knife poised on the base of his throat as her knees keep his arms pinned. His wide violet eyes meet hers and what pisses her off the most is the complete lack of fear she sees in them. She feels like she’s been running a marathon, the end finally in reach if she can just take one more step. That’s all she needs. One more step. 

She doesn't know how it got to this point. 

She can look back, regret bringing a sharp clarity to actions that she was blinded to before it was too late. Before he held her by the throat, forced her to face everything that he was and that he offered and refused to let go. She had been bordered by his men, one way or another. Closed off from anything that could reach out to pull her back out of the open water where he lay waiting to devour. 

She can see every step that led her into his trap, even the ones that were taken in haste because she was forced from behind. The man under her held her softly, sweetly and kissed her deep enough that she could taste the blood on his tongue. Her revulsion made him laugh, made him all the more determined that she remain chained to his side. Every part of her was broken apart, piece after piece, and she has been trying to glue herself back into place. Back into the woman she was before she ever crossed paths with Izana. 

He stares at her patiently, not even trying to fight. As if he knows it’s inevitable. 

It is inevitable. 

There is only so far that you can corner an animal before it lashes out and women are the more deadly of the species. 

“I thought you were going to kill me,” he says lightly, eyes never leaving hers. His gaze strips her bare. It always has. He lured her with promises and idealizations of a home, with the threat of revenge against those who have wronged her. 

“I want to see the life leave your eyes myself,” she says, her voice barely more than a whisper with her panting. 

“Even if you got rid of me, you’d miss me. Admit it. You’d miss me.” He stares as if waiting for the answer he knows she’ll give. Not anymore. She refuses. To admit to missing him means that she would miss the way he cradled her to him, the way he held her throat in his hand and threatened to kill her, to throw her to the wolves. To miss him would be to admit that she liked everything he had done for her, to her, and the way he’d allow select few access to her cunt while he fucked them. He was almost always the one fucking. Always the one in control. 

It would be admitting that the pieces she was putting herself back together with were in his image. Not hers. 

She presses the knife a little harder and he doesn’t even flinch. “Never.”

“Liar.” 

He moves. Her weight isn’t enough to stop him, despite her efforts. The knife goes flying as she’s forced onto her back, an inversion of seconds ago. Her feet kick out, arms scratching at his until he uses his hold against her neck to lift her head just enough to slam it back down onto the ground. It makes her dazed. Enough that she stops struggling for a moment as her senses realign. 

“Admit it.” He orders again. “Tell your king the truth.” 

“Not my ki–” her voice is cut off with the pressure of his hand tightening. His gaze hardens at the response. 

“Stop lying.” He slams her head down again, harder this time and her vision goes black for a second before the pain blossoms. It makes her stomach roll but if she throws up now, she’ll choke until he decides she deserves to breathe. If he decides. 

Tears build up in her eyes, a response to the pain. The pressure on her throat releases enough that she can gasp in the air she desperately needs. 

He strokes her cheek gently as she coughs, tears falling out of the corners of her eyes. “You make things so hard on yourself,” he says softly. As if he hadn’t just nearly killed her. He brushes hair out of her eyes. 

“Iz-Iza-” she coughs. His grip tightens again in warning. She closes her eyes, willing to face death for what she’s done. She should have been faster. Why did she hesitate? After everything he’s done, she would have been doing the world a favour. 

“Try again.”

“Si–” his grip tightens and she chokes for a second, coughing once she’s granted air again. “-y king,” she gasps more than says it. A feeble attempt to keep his violence at bay. She’s seen enough of it. Felt enough. 

His grip loosens, back to the softness he imitates. “How long must we play this game? How long until it finally sinks in that you and I are intertwined?” She knows what he’s not saying. She would never be separated from him. He had dug himself into her bones, leaving the remnants of the girl she was into the thing he’s formed. 

Until there’s nothing left, is what she wants to say but she can’t. The words lodge themselves in her throat. Tears slip down the sides of her face as she stares up at the man who calls himself a king. He’s beautiful, ethereal with the casual violence he carries. 

He stares at her a moment longer, the corner of his lips twitching before he nods, seemingly satisfied at her inability to argue. She wants to. She does. She just can’t seem to pull the words out of her chest, to breathe life into a promise that she’ll succeed next time. A promise she’s made repeatedly and never fulfilled. 

She feels…tired. Emotionally wrought and wrung out. There’s a slight ringing in her ears that she can almost ignore. Her gaze slips from his face, staring at the art piece on the wall that he bought her after catching her staring at it too long. He hung it in a place of honour, front and centre as if to remind her that no matter what they’ve done, what he’s done, he’s taken care of her. Isn’t that what’s important? 

His fingers tighten on her chin before he turns her so that her eyes meet his again. He kisses his teeth lightly, another admonishment at her choices. She watches his gaze drift over her face. “You need to stop hurting yourself,” he says almost gently. It sounds like he actually cares, as if she’s only fallen and he hasn’t tried her kill her. Quid pro quo.

“It’s terrible, isn’t it?” he says in the same tone. “That you never learn, do you? No matter how many lessons I teach, you stay as stubborn as a child.” He leans back slightly, hips pressing closer against hers as he pulls her slightly closer so they remain connected. “Is that what you are? A child?” He stares as if waiting for a response she can barely think of giving. She tries to shake her head but the motion makes her stomach roll and it feels as if he’s finally knocked something loose in it. She probably needs a hospital. 

“Is that how I need to treat you?” 

“N-no,” she croaks out. “Please.”

“Please what?”

“I-I’m s-sorry,” she forces out. She has to apologize. There’s no choice. If she doesn’t, he won’t kill her, but he’ll force her into another role that she knows will be worse than being a woman at his side. She can only imagine the way his men's faces will light up in amusement if he tells them to treat her as a child. They like humiliation too much when it’s not theirs. 

“Your words are worthless to me,” he tells me. “But I can be merciful. As long as you held the knife at my throat, you could never take that final step, could you?” 

She swallows the lump growing in her throat. No. Something held her back and she hates every part of herself for it. 

“No,” he answers for her. “Like I said, you’d miss me. Miss this.” He yanks her closer, moving her ass to rest on his knees, to keep her hips pressed against his. A parody of a mating press. One she’s been forced into before even if it never took. They’re consistent, at least, in ensuring she’s protected from that. 

Her gaze drifts again. She doesn't mean it but she can’t stay focused. Her head hurts and her throat feels scrubbed raw from his hold. She blinks and it feels like it takes longer than ever before she’s forced back to look at Izana. Will he mourn her if she dies here? Will he regret everything he’s done to her or will he only regret that it wasn’t on his terms? That’s how she should go. While she still has the ability to. She should wait until she’s left alone again and throw herself away, a final act of defiance in refusal to give him the satisfaction of choosing her death. It should be a choice she gets to make. Unless she hesitates like she did with a knife at his throat. Always unable to make that last move. 

He bends forward to brush his lips against hers. It’s soft, nearly tender and a complete contrast to his behaviour. She could lose herself in it, in the illusion he offers every time. It’s always so tempting to. It somehow feels so much more poignant after the things he does. She wants to soothe him, to make him offer this softness more and more until she’s drowning in it. Even if he’s the one pulling her under. 

“Izana,” she breathes into his mouth. 

He hums, smiling slightly at the submission. “Such a pretty thing like this, aren’t you?” He brushes her hair back. “You always are.” 

“My...my head hurts,” she whimpers. 

“You need to be more careful,” he says. “Such a clumsy thing, aren’t you?” He sighs before getting up, rocking back on his heels and standing. “You need me, even if you’re not willing to say it aloud. We both know it.” He offers his hand to her. 

She stares at it for a long moment, trying to will her body to work the way it’s supposed to, the way he expects it to. She’s been buried in his expectations, slowly suffocating under their weight. Can you be buried and broken apart? She thinks so. She feels like she is. The thing that emerges from the rubble is nothing she recognizes but he looks at her in satisfaction that makes part of her preen. It makes her sick.

She doesn’t know where she gets the strength, the courage, to shove her foot into his knee instead of taking his hand. He’s broken her into pieces, reforming her into what he wants, but the core of it is still her. She is still the woman she once was, even if she’s not the same. 

He swears at her, a hiss filled with warning and anger. She scrambles to stand but the concussion he’s left on her makes it difficult. She’s moving too quickly. Her stomach rolls and she crashes into the couch before she catches herself. The balcony lies before her. A beacon of release. A choice she can make. 

She runs.

Her fingers brush the cool glass before an arm reaches around her shoulder. A hand grabs her throat, circling it with an ease of familiarity before she’s sent flying back. Away from the balcony. Away from her chance. Still too slow, even if she didn’t hesitate. 

She slides across the floor, crashing into the wall across from it. The impact is jarring, sight going blank as her head rings until she’s folding over to throw up on the hard floor. Something’s broken. She can feel it in her arm, but she can’t focus. Can’t breathe through the nausea and taste of bile.

Izana walks towards her. She doesn’t have to look to know he’s disappointed. She can feel his anger even if he doesn’t show it. Instead, she hears him sigh. She curls up tighter, apologies worthless even if she tried. 

“A child it is then.” 

tr tag: @mitsuwuyaa @blackfire2013 @bleach-your-panties @reiners-milkbiddies

also: @scythegal and @m-ilkiee Network: @pixelcafe-network

I’m not tagging anyone else lol

[sleepynoons]

blade x afab!f!reader, nsfw, 18+, not beta read

cw: unprotected sex, emotional sex, handjob, half-assed pussy job (idet it counts), riding in reverse cowgirl, descriptions of injuries

notes: angst, slight comfort. wrote this on my period, and i couldn't stand being the only one in intense pain, so i took this as an excuse to do more research on mara and how blade suffers from it. also stellaron hunter!reader lol

YOU SEE the bandages before you see him. after two weeks of being unable to see each other, you’ve finally been given the green light by kafka to visit blade. eyes wide, you can’t hide your surprise as you examine the fresh cracks and wounds scoring blade’s body, obvious even when he’s veiled by the shadows cast by his door. the dressings almost seem useless, really – a bandage over a bullet wound, almost quite literally. the effects of mara on short-lived species are truly terrifying, the destructive aftermath laid out right in front of you as you grimace when you see a wound slowly open before sealing itself with a muted golden light. he steps back to let you into his room, and you usher him to his bed. 

as you tie up some of the loose ends of the bandages, you murmur, “kafka said it was worse than normal.” blade only stares ahead at something you can’t see.

it’s always been this way. when blade doesn’t want to tell you something, he opts for silence. the two of you are so close yet so far, able to relish in the intimacy of each other’s bodies but never willing to exchange words that reveal what’s underneath. he will even go as far as to openly show you his scars and injuries, but he will never share with you the tales and stories of battles that caused them – constellations on his figure that will remain forever unnamed and disowned. 

kafka had given you a brief, watered-down explanation of blade’s condition when you first joined the stellaron hunters. blade’s pain is predominantly in the psyche, and the mara forces him into an uncontrollable state that he has to be watched over and subdued by kafka. you know it’s all for naught as you wipe his arms and torso with a warm, wet towel. you can only provide brief moments of relief as you pat cool compresses over the cuts you just cleaned.

there’s something you’ve noticed about blade’s injuries. because you’ve never seen blade when he’s mara-struck, you can only presume that he receives his injuries directly or as a result of his transformation. regardless, the cuts are irregular. they look more like deep gashes from sharp fingernails and a sword. 

like clockwork, you finish patching blade up, and after putting all of the medical supplies away, find your place on his lap. blade finally looks at you, gaze piercing through you, as you sit down. his hands come to rest on the backs of your thighs, and without a word, leans forward to kiss you on the eyes. his gestures are delicate, as gentle as he can muster, and you know he’s trying to placate your worry. you return your affections by patting his chest, a signal for him to lie down.

he listens, eyes still watching you closely, hawk-like attention on your every move. he’s waiting, curious as to what you plan on doing today.

you begin. you first bend over, littering small kisses across his collarbones and chest. if blade’s in any pain, he makes no indication of it. you make your way up, leaving more kisses around his neck and the shell of his right ear, before hovering over his face. when this arrangement started, you remember being incredibly nervous, afraid he would judge and reject your advances. you’re more practiced now, of course, and without hesitation, lick at his lips. blade seems to ease up a little and responds by tilting his head in an effort to deepen the kiss and presses your body closer to his. it stays like this for a few minutes. the two of you have your eyes closed and are simply enjoying each other’s warmth.

you only pull away because you need to breathe. regardless, you’re growing eager, and you’re sure he is, too. you get up to remove your jacket and sleep shorts, but when blade reaches to undo his pants, you stop him.

“let me,” you whisper. “i’ll handle all of it.” now only in a loose t-shirt and panties, you sit back down on blade, except you’re faced away from him. you make quick work of his pants and peel back his briefs, revealing his half-hard cock that is stirring at the sudden touch of the cool air.

you always like to take your time with blade after going without him for so long. you spit into your hand and coat it generously. blade hisses when he feels your hand make contact with his cock. up and down, your rub your palm from his tip to his balls and back again. his cock gets harder and hotter under your touch, and the veins that climb up his cock become more pronounced. what you would do to take him in your mouth then and there, but you have to resist – this isn’t about you. when blade’s cock stands fully at attention, you wrap your hand around it and quicken your pace. you flick your fist sharply and tease his slit with your thumb between intervals.

behind you, blade pants and groans. you’re experienced in pleasuring the man, and you know when something is too much or too little for him. right now, you know you’re doing just right. as he gets louder, his cock leaks more pre-cum, and the desperate sight sends a throb straight to your core. finally, with a few more tugs of your hand, blade cums, cursing as he ejaculates into your hands with some of his cum splattering onto your forearm. you help him in coming down from his high, and you glance behind you.

with one arm thrown over his eyes and the other gripping onto the blanket, he’s breathing deep, ragged breaths. he already looks spent.

you ask, “should we stop here?”

harsher than he intended, blade commands, “keep going.” his voice is rough with exhaustion, but it’s still deep and husky, and his demand only edges you further along. you smile at the praise and nod in understanding, not that he’d see.

you slide your panties to the side. you’re already so wet, slick sticking and spreading along your inner thighs and pussy. blade’s already hard again, and you can only admire his stamina. as a brief intermission, you pick up his cock and begin to rub his tip along your folds. his cock is so hot, comforting against your own heat, and you sigh whenever his tip catches onto your clit. 

but it’s not enough. with every slip of cock, your yearning accelerates until it becomes overwhelming. when you have no more patience, with shaky legs, you sink down onto him. when the head of his cock pops past the entrance of your hole, you moan in relief and satisfaction. not even halfway in, and blade is already making you see stars.

blade is also having a very difficult time. he’s already delirious from all of the pain he had to endure for the past few weeks, yet he fell prey to his desires and is now suffering at the sensation of your soft, tight walls swallowing and trapping him in. it really is too much. in this position, he can admire the way the fat of your ass ripples whenever you move and your back arches beautifully, accentuating the curves of your hips and waist. at the very least, he’s grateful that he can’t see your face, or else he’d lose it at the sight of your aroused expressions. he can just imagine your lips parting, tongue lolling out, eyes crossing.

you feel so full when he’s fully in you that you have to sit still for a second. then, you slowly begin to bounce, shallow lifts of your hip that only come up an inch or so before you take him in completely again. it’s the perfect amount of pressure inside you. in fact, everything about blade seems to fit you well, and you have to ignore the thought of never fully having him.

if you had to describe blade, a few words come into mind: powerful, spiteful, lost. and you can feel these traits of his bleed into the present moment. he’s so tired and angry, frustrated that he has to live on in the universe, but because he has no choice, he will live on with steadfast and stubborn courage. you can only moan and drool with every heavy kiss of his cock against that gummy spot inside you. at some point, his hands have found their way to your waist, and his hands are gripping onto you so tightly that they’re bound to leave bruises. you can feel – practically taste – his emotions, and all you can do is just take it. it’s because you can’t do anything else that you’re content with just taking it. 

you’re sobbing, crying out from pleasure and distress. with one last push, you get up so that only blade’s tip is inside before dropping back down in a manner so rushed and sharp that you’re both cumming from it. he holds onto you and you onto his hands as you both climax.

you may never be able to help him with the mara or be fully his, but you know that, in this moment, no one in any galaxy or universe can make him experience this pleasure and release the way you can. and for now, you let yourself take pride and satisfaction with that. for now, that’s more than enough.

[makenoplans]

all gale banter! (that i am currently aware of)

hiii gale enthusiasts, i just spent the past few hours picking through videos trying to find all of gales party banter and transcribing it! check under the cut for verbose details

copied directly from the doc i transcribed this into so youll have to bear with the initials to denote who is speaking when! generally speaking, initials are a=astarion, g=gale, h=halsin, j=jaheira, k=karlach, l=lae'zel, m=minthara, s=shadowheart, and w=wyll

(except for two minsc quotes that are also m, both where he mentions his name so like... it's obvious)

transcribed with attention paid to particular noises characters make that aren't quite whole words and also words that are emphasized!

please let me know if youre aware of any banter ive missed!

warning: long

G: Karlach! A hypothetical question for you. If someone - not me, of course - detected a hint of romantic interest in them from another… unnamed individual, erm, what might that someone… do about it?

K: Whoever it is, just talk to them, Gale! And leave out the hypotheticals.

G: Talking. Right! I'm good at that!

A: So, Gale, how is your sad, hopeless pining going?

G: [Ach!] I'm hardly pining! Been a year or more since Mystra cast me aside!

A: Oh, my dear wizard, I wasn't talking about Mystra.

W: I used to believe the beauty of first love was unable to be surpassed, but Gale, you are so much more tolerable now that you've found your second.

G: I'll take that comment with the sincerity and good will I assume it was intended.

G: Have you noticed any attachments of the more, er, romantic variety flourishing in our camp, Wyll?

W: I think I'm not the right person to be asking. I can recognize a troll silhouette on a far horizon, but I wouldn't know a flirtation if you whacked me alongside the head with it.

G: I see you waste no time pursuing your quarry, Astarion.

A: Hmph! I rather thought I was a little slow this time. Usually they're begging me to dream them on the first night.

G: Tell me - you always woo your lovers with such patient attention?

A: As the vampire ascendant I can grant my lover immortality and bind them to me forever.

G: Hmm. I trust you speak of the bonds of love, not the shackles of servitude.

G: Am I to understand that you are in love now, Karlach?

K: I sure am. [heh] If there's hope for me, there's hope for anyone.

G: I'm surprised you're permitted to choose a partner outside of your own people.

L: We had to use and misuse each civilization in the stars in every way we know. I do not conquer by blade alone, Gale.

G: I can't imagine Mother Gith would approve. Doesn't she prefer us lesser species enslaved? Or eviscerated?

M: You've been smiling like a fool of late, wizard. Explain yourself.

G: I found love. Surely even you wouldn't begrudge me some happiness?

M: All I can say on the matter is that you were wise to lower your standards from the godly to the ghastly.

G: Tell me, Lae'zel: is it common for githyanki to fall in love?

L: Love? Is that this feeling in me, then? This passion to peel every layer of one's heart to see what light and shadows lurk there? I doubt I am the first githyanki to… to feel this way, but few would ever declare it. Githyanki have playmates, thrill partners but I've never heard anyone profess love, nor read of it in our slates.

L: Gale, I've heard you talking in your sleep. Your mate needs better rest for our journey.

G: And deprive them of the pleasure of hearing my nocturnal postulations? I'd never be so cruel. The mind absorbs much while we believe ourselves dormant. To lie beside Gale of Waterdeep is positively educational.

G: If you're feeling faint after your bout with Cazador, Astarion, I don't mind donating some blood.

A: Aha! Well, you're still full of that Netherese bile, I'll pass, thank you! Besides, I have someone else to nibble on, and they are delicious.

G: I'm glad to know you have a softer side, Minthara. I was beginning to think you rather… heartless.

M: Loving another is not soft, wizard. It is one of the hardest things a person can do.

G: So you admit you found love! Aww. How delightful. I'm happy for you both.

A: So, how was your night with Gale? Did you have a long, hard debate?

G: Ugh. Ignore him. Astarion envies the depth of a bond because he's of a shallower inclination.

G: So Astarion, I hear your relationship has taken on a new aspect recently.

A: My life has taken on "a new aspect." It's only natural that my relationships change as well.

G: Halsin! You must have accumulated considerable wisdom on matters of the heart in your long life. Anything you'd like to pass on to a… strapping, lovestruck wizard such as myself?

H: [hehehe] Dispensing advice on matters of the heart would be like swapping boots. What suits me may be a… poor fit for you.

G: Ah. Well. There's no faulting that logic. At least you didn't tell me to "be myself."

H: Oh no, perish the thought. That can be outright cruel advice to offer in certain cases.

G: Indulge me, Lae'zel, as someone unfettered by Faerunian beauty standards: how would you appraise my appearance?

L: Your beard looks like the hairy tufts upon the [surlon], the largest of wyrmkind that sliver our skies.

G: Hm. I suppose that's… a bad thing? No. Don't answer that.

G: Wild-shaping must sprinkle some spice on your love life, Halsin.

H: Heh. Indeed it does. Did you… never experience such delights with Mystra? I, uh, hear the gods enjoy taking on the forms of swans, horses, eagles and the like when… visiting with mortals?

G: Oh no, quite the opposite, actually! She mostly preferred our interactions to be abstract, and incorporeal. Most invigorating.

G: So, Lae'zel, have you ever been tempted to use psionics in your, uh, romantic endeavors?

L: Only once. Did you know, in low-gravity settings, githyanki can maintain aerial suspension for hours at a time?

G: Fascinating! I think the arch-mage Tasha described a spell with similar affect! I really must look that up.

G: I've always felt flames to be a rather perfect expression of love, Karlach. Passionate! Primal! Capable of bestowing the most life-affirming comfort - or - inflicting the profoundest damage.

L: That's… pretty nice. Never thought about it like that. But… now I will.

G: I've been pondering something, Lae'zel. Why is it that githyanki have bellybuttons, hm? When they hatch from eggs?

L: I did not grant you permission to gaze upon my midriff.

G: I- I wasn't gazing! Merely observing! Though that can hardly be said for a certain someone else.

G: Y'know, Karlach, there are other ways to express love beyond run-of-the-mill physicality.

K: Ugh! Are you going to try and teach me about exceptional uses for a mage hand or what?

G: W-well actually, I was thinking of poetry!

K: Oops. Sorry. But, uh, now that I think of it… is mage hand especially hard to learn?

G: Even shaped by shadow as it is, Sharran architecture has a kind of beauty to it.

K: Beautifully intimidating. This place was meant to scare people into submission.

G: There you go. Cutting right through the ephemera to the heart of the matter. Hm! Your finest quality, I think.

K: Uh. Here I thought I rubbed you the wrong way.

G: Nothing wrong with a bit of friction now and then. You help me keep my mind sharp.

K: Aw, thanks, pal! I think.

G: When we met, Shadowheart, your gaze seemed to linger in the distance on some unseen goal, some insubstantial purpose. But I notice now your gaze settles on something or someone much closer.

S: Is it that obvious?

G: Of course! There's nothing escapes a wizard's powers of observation.

A: I gave my return to Baldur's Gate a lot of thought. I never pictured this, though.

G: Ah, what did you have in mind? A quiet party? Toasting your own return with a few good friends?

A: Less "quiet party with friends", more "days of hedonistic debauchery", but otherwise… yes!

G: Hmm. Sounds like a recipe for disaster. But you know what? I'm learning to enjoy the taste of chaos. Count me in.

G: I've heard that in Baldur's Gate, "wizard" is also a term used for one who eschews their more, [hr-hrm] carnal desires. Is that true, Wyll?

W: Where are we going with this, Gale?

G: Oh, nowhere. Just think it's a rather cruel misnomer, not at all reflective of the glamor wizarding life affords.

A: So Gale, you laid with a goddess? You must have some sordid tales to tell.

G: Sordid? I lay with the Mother of Magic herself! What we had was… transcendent. Euphoric. Incandescent. Not sordid!

A: You actually made sleeping with a goddess sound boring. Hm. Incredible.

A: I am enjoying our walks together, aren't you, Gale?

G: Uhh… sure! In silence.

G: When you've loved a goddess as I have, people often think you less experienced in the way of romance.

S: She just lives on another plane! [heh] Only jesting. I'm in no position to judge, especially after what happened with Shar.

G: It's true for a time, I neglected the physical in favor of celestial euphoria. But our relationship was no less real for it.

G: I feel I've been rather hasty to judge you, Astarion. One heartbreak was quite enough for me, but to experience it as many times as you have… must change a person.

A: Thank you, Gale, but let us both hope that broken hearts are a thing of the past.

A: So, do you have loves waiting for you once this is all over?

G: You know what, that is not the easiest of questions for me to answer.

S: You mean just… waiting? Like a lovesick puppy?

M: Do you have elder siblings, wizard?

G: You're about to say something awful, aren't you?

M: In Menzoberranzan, after a house has two sons, every subsequent male-born child is slaughtered at birth, as it is useless, even for breeding. You have the aura of a third child about you.

G: The architect who built this must have been remarkable. Pity their vision didn't stand the test of time.

K: All's not lost. I mean, just look at this place!

G: You've quite the knack for finding the bright side of things, haven't you?

K: Hope keeps you going.

K: So Gale, got any book recommendations for me?

G: You can read?

K: Hmph. Yes, very funny. I can read. School put me off big, boring tomes. Sometimes I wonder what I'm missing.

G: Ah! Say no more. I'll find the perfect book for you. I might even lend it to you from my library in Waterdeep, ooh.

K: Ooh, something with magic please! And no devils!

G: Do you feel that? The darkness, pulling at the strands of the Weave?

K: Er, you'll still be able to do your wizard thing though, right?

G: Of course. Doesn't make the shadows less dangerous.

K: Joy.

M: Gale. Minsc worries you might send a fireball up his butt with all of this… stringy hair in your face.

G: Is that why you keep your head shaved? I assumed it was a custom of some sort.

M: Oh, no. Most warriors of [Rashinan] wear long battle braids weighed down with stone. Minsc can show you, when next we camp.

G: Thank you, but I'm more wizard than warrior. Not sure my scalp would stand up to such a plaiting.

A: Gods! We're not back, are we?

G: On the Nautiloid, no. This is a different nursery. Similar, but not identical. There's likely one in every colony.

A: I don't care what's in every mind flayer colony, Gale. Nobody does. Except you.

A: Ugh, another ruined temple full of foul-smelling beasts spoiling for a fight.

G: No mere temple. This was a monastery, devoted as much to study as to worship.

A: Oh, how ignorant of me. So it'll be free of foul-smelling beasts then?

G: Quite the opposite. Some monastic orders celebrated their pungency as proof of their devotion. "To think is to stink" was the motto of one ill-fated brotherhood near Arm. Oh! Huh, but you meant beasts of the life-threatening variety. Yes I'm sure it's teeming with those.

A: Moonlanterns to keep the curse back? Burly guards to fight off any monsters? I could get used to this place.

G: Don't get too comfortable. We shouldn't overstay our welcome in such a place.

A: No, of course! Why stay somewhere safe and comfortable when we could be in mortal peril?

H: Ah, Last Light Inn. Half aglow and lanterns lit. Just like a hundred years ago.

G: I imagine the vista was more idyllic back then. As were its patrons' chances of surviving the walk home.

H: [Grunt.] Still though, when you are expecting nothing but desolation, even a small glimmer of hope fills the heart. To think long ago, the druids feared this market down would grow into a city and threaten nature's realm… little did we realize what the true threat was.

G: Divination is a skill few can master. The rest of us must simply muddle along, content to view the past with a clarity the future rarely offers.

H: Perhaps I can yet turn hindsight into foresight, provided the curse is lifted. The better way for all. Whole generations were denied their chance to flourish… I must put this right, for them.

A: That orb seems powerful. What could it do once it's extracted?

G: Nothing good can come of it unless it is contained. Why.

A: It might be useful. Who knows?

G: I must tell you, Shadowheart, the bathing waters here leave much to be desired. The ablutions offered at the Temple of Beauty in Waterdeep were far superior - and, they have the most excellent soaps.

S: Hmm. I was wondering why you always smelled like a wealthy dowager.

A: From sweet woodland to stinking swamp. Can you do tricks like that, Gale?

G: Easiest thing in the world. Though I'd do it the other way around.

H: Brickwork and stonework. This place is far out of balance with nature, but the Oak Father will reclaim this all eventually.

G: Not too soon, I hope! I've a craving for a soft bed, a hot bath, and a large glass of Arabellan Dry. None of which I've ever found hidden under a log.

H: Hah, you may thrive, but what of other life? A city is no place for wild creatures.

G: Cities teem with life! Rats, pigeons, flies… they count no less, for all their more pestilent qualities.

G: The Society of brilliance has quite the reputation. Even Waterdhavian academics refer to their works from time to time.

S: They talk a great deal but do very little. Which may be for the best.

G: I take it you're not inclined to study the wonders of the Underdark?

S: Its inhabitants and cultures, maybe. Its fungi and cave slime, no thank you.

W: Ethel mentioned Netherese magic. What in blazes does that mean?

G: Magic from the fallen empire of Netheril. Ancient. Exceedingly dangerous. And quite unrivalled.

A: Wonderful. I'd hate to be destroyed by any common old magic.

G: Home and hearth, reduced to ruins. The shadow curse stole more than the light from this place.

H: That is why it must be stopped. Imagine a whole century of life and love denied the chance to ever take place.

G: A hidden shrine dedicated to the Moonmaiden herself. Even amidst this darkness, Selunites are stubborn enough to cling on.

K: Pretty beautiful, isn't it?

G: Look around you! Indulge your curiosity! Sorcerous Sundries is the finest purveyor of magical miscellany for miles around.

K: Where's the axes?

G: What they sell is far more precious than mere sword or shield! They sell knowledge! Ingenuity! The wisdom of mages past.

K: [yawns] Ugh, sounds like more your thing than mine.

K: Doing alright, Gale?

G: Oh, you know. Still alive and kicking despite being surrounded on all sides by an endless manifestation of… darkness and decay.

K: I feel it too. Here if you need a pick-me-up.

G: It strikes me that, for a mind flayer colony, there are remarkably few mind flayers about the place.

K: Squiddies have gone to war, is my guess.

G: On the Absolute's behalf? Now there's an alliance I'd've been quite happy without.

K: Aw, man, adventuring is thirsty work.

G: There used to be a monastery in this region known for producing a wonderful ale.

K: Ah, that sounds like heaven. Wait. Used to?

G: Oh yes, long ruined, I'm afraid. No chance of a frothing pitcher awaiting us there, but still. At least your thirst for knowledge is quenced!

K: Ugh!

W: It might seem a bit ramshackle, but this place is a boastworthy bar.

G: A bar is only as good as its cellars. Which vintages can we expect on its racks?

W: Here, a bottle is judged more by its ability to crack heads than the quality of its contents.

G: Ah. If that's the main criteria then I shall reset my expectations accordingly. Water it is!

K: We're not taking a boat to Baldur's Gate, right?

G: And give the Absolute free reign to use us as target practice from the banks? I think not!

K: Ugh. My mum always said the Chionthat was unlucky.

G: I don't suppose you've any clue where we are in relation to Waterdeep?

K: From this distance between Elturel and Baldur's Gate, I'd say… a long way away.

G: Ah. That will make getting word to my mother rather tricky. No matter. What she doesn't know can't hurt her. Not at this distance, anyway.

G: Nothing like a brisk stroll through the forest to invigorate the spirit.

K: I was just thinking the same thing! But… poetically.

G: And without so much as a stirring from our tadpoles.

K: A girl could get used to this.

L: These children and their pets lack discipline. Were they githyanki, I'd recommend further training.

G: Not everyone approaches the raising of their young with such militaristic vigor.

L: That is the very purpose of training. To determine which children shall be warriors, and which are suited to other roles. As for the unruly animals, they would make for nutritious marching rations.

G: Mm, that's certainly one way to make them behave.

L: These flowers are quite vivid, not to mention pungent. Not to my liking.

G: Are there no flowers in [tunirath]?

L: In the city of death, the m'lar cultivate the fruiting bodies that sprout from the corpses of the slain.

G: Huh. I'd rather get them from my florist in Waterdeep, if it's all the same to you.

G: That zaith'isk you mentioned intrigues me. Care to tell me a bit more?

L: An intricate device crafted by m'lar, our most gifted artisans. I am sworn to say no more.

S: Why must the Dead Three be so obvious and ugly with their decor? Blood and bones, bones and blood… Pointy nonsense. At least Shar had some panache.

G: As did Mystra's home on Elysium. Her ribbed vaults and buttresses created a magic entirely of their own… not to mention their pleasure domes.

S: Hah! Pleasure dome.

G: It's a perfectly legitimate architectural feature!

G: The road to Baldur's Gate is a long one. Who knows how long it'll take these folks to get there on foot.

S: If they make it. They're slow, vulnerable. Half or more will die long before Basilisk Gate.

G: Doesn't seem to trouble you a jot.

S: What good would it do for me to be troubled? We can't save them all.

S: You seem to know a good deal about our condition, Gale.

G: Everything, really. Not to put too fine a point on it.

S: A humble specimen, aren't you?

G: On occasion.

G: They're not mutually exclusive! The weave is served best with a dash of eloquence.

G: There's magic here, but it's of a rancid, impure form. Nothing like the true Weave at all.

L: This is why I appreciate a sharp blade to a ball of fire or a bolt of lightning. The Weave is inconsistent, unruly.

G: The Weave is constant, but its users - anything but. We must be on our guard.

L: A githyanki warrior hardly needs to be told that.

L: What is this? This place makes me feel sad, melancholy.

G: Ah, so you're susceptible to the tragedy of a broken home. Maybe you've more in common with us weaker beings than you thought.

L: There's no call to be insulting.

G: Not to diminish our efforts, but. Was rather simple getting here in the end, wasn't it?

L: The obstacles ahead prove to be higher still, which will make the pleasure of overcoming them all the more potent. Imagine the glorious din of it all, the streaming banners, the charging knights. The piles of severed limbs and heads.

G: Mm, I'd rather not, if it's all the same to you.

G: Whatever I expected to find lurking in this cursed gloom, it certainly wasn't this. A glimmer of hope amidst the darkness.

S: That's one way of looking at it. You could also say it's a prime target, the one pocket of light in the gloom.

G: Oh pragmatism, thy name is Shadowheart. You're not wrong, though. Best we keep our sojourn here to a minimum.

G: So! Shadowheart. Such a name implies yours is a difficult heart to find.

S: It's not that hard to find. Perhaps any difficulty is more telling of you, Gale.

G: I always wondered what a vampire's lair would look like. Can't say I pictured it being quite this… theatrical.

L: I find it surprisingly similar to Queen Vlaakith's aesthetic.

G: That makes sense. She does have a flair for the dramatic.

G: No day, no night. It's as though time itself has abandoned this place. Similar to the Astral Plane in some ways, wouldn't you say, Lae'zel?

L: Mm, hardly. It is said that the Astral Plane is threaded with light and silver, life-giving and wondrous in all directions. Nothing like this dismal abyss.

G: Tell me, Lae'zel, what is it like on the Astral Plane? Your home realm intrigues me.

L: Githyanki lay their eggs on other planes. They cannot mature in the Astral.

L: A tadpole nursery, as on the Nautiloid.

G: Quite right, so long as the attempt won't leave us similarly dismantled.

L: Caution is commendable. Boldness is extraordinary. In this case, I recommend the latter.

W: You're an impressive fighter, Gale. You should consider a new name.

G: I take it you have some suggestions?

W: The Wizard Wonder. Or, how about… the Master of the Weave?

G: Tempting, but I think we already have the maximum number of theatrical titles.

G: Pigeons, gulls, sparrows. These streets would make a fine hunting ground for a tressym like Tara.

M: In the Underdark, we have packs of winged hounds to deal with vermin like your precious Tara.

G: Flying hounds? Come now, you're pulling my leg. Aren't you?

M: Yes, I am. It is the bats that would make a meal of her.

M: Umberlee. Her clerics possess a nasty streak as wide as her oceans.

G: So their reputation suggests, especially among the good folk of Waterdeep. I'm curious to learn how you fell foul of them.

M: Blasphemy, said the temple priestess, but Minsc says do not give horns to your statues if you do not wish the visitors to try and make them toot.

G: Yes. That would probably do it.

W: I admire your courage, Gale.

G: Thank you! Any particular reason?

W: Between the orb and the bug, you've got more than your fair share of unwelcome passengers.

G: What can I say? Mother always told me to be a gracious host.

G: My, my. Well I'll say this for the bonecloaks: they know their mushrooms.

S: Perhaps they should expand their horizons. Too much time spent obsessing over fungi seems to leave them a bit, well… like them.

G: Oh, a byproduct of their profession. Few can spend a lifetime inhaling fungal spores without turning out a bit… muddled between the years.

W: This is it, Gale. Today, we annihilate the heart of the Absolute's power.

G: Entirely unnecessary. Though, if they are so inclined, I might be convinced to share a stanza or two of my own for inspiration! Whatever outcome of what's just ahead… it will be the stuff of legends.

G: I knew you were a graceful man, Wyll, but I hear you're quite the dancer, too! I've been known to trip the light fantastic myself. Mine was a popular hand at the annual Blackstaff's Ball.

W: I'd have loved to have witnessed it, Gale. I wager you are as elegant on the dance floor as you are on the battlefield.

S: What did you mean before, Gale? "A woman with shadows for eyes", you said.

G: Merely that if the eyes are the mirror to the soul, yours have dark curtains across the mirror. No offense taken, I hope.

S: Not necessarily. I haven't made up my mind about you yet.

A: Ever heard of a vampire called Cazador, Wyll?

W: I don't think so, no. Why? Friend of yours?

G: He's patriarch of the Szarr family. Nasty fellow, if the histories are accurate.

A: I imagine they are.

L: The right of these prisoners to die in mortal combat was stolen from them.

G: Hardly the worst atrocity the Absolute's committed.

L: One of many, but by no means the least. To die properly is a matter of honor.

W: This is no aimless horde. The Absolute's forces are organized. What do you make of it, Gale?

G: All enemies have some chink in their armor, no matter how much they like to believe themselves invulnerable.

W: And if we don't find any clear weakness?

G: Then we hope our mutual strengths are enough to dominate them. Or! We die nobly in the attempt.

G: I was wondering about your queen, Vlaakith. What tales of her reach us are terrifying. I suppose that's not how you would describe her.

L: Vlaakith is unity. Fear and beauty, life and unlife… eyes like onyx, teeth like daggers. There is none more perfect.

S: Sounds vile. I assume the meaning of perfect was lost in translation.

G: Moonrise Towers lies ahead. We're nearing the heart of the Absolute, I'm certain of it.

W: Then let us push forward, head high, weapons in hand, and turn this tower to rubble.

G: Your confidence is encouraging, but a little premature. Let's keep our eyes on the task ahead- or eye, as the case may be.

W: Who's in charge of the mind flayers, Lae'zel? Is there a squid king or something?

L: No. Each ghaik is servant to an elder brain. No king unites elders, only their collective tyranny.

G: A mind flayer monarch! Imagine that. Such a thing could shatter worlds!

K: Ready to enter the belly of the beast?

G: Ugh. It's the stairs I'm dreading.

G: No sign of tentacles so far.

S: The same. Except for a knot of worry in my stomach that's in no rush to go away.

G: That I can relate to.

G: The masons here thought they were building something to last. How wrong they were.

W: Perhaps it's a blessing that none of them survived to see it fall to the shadows.

G: No need for such a grim assumption. Halsin helped many to escape these shadows before the town was consumed.

W: Then some masons were more blessed still, if they could put their talent to use elsewhere. Perhaps some of their work even graces Baldur's Gate.

S: You seemed quite forward with your compliments earlier. We'd only just met.

G: Seize the day, I say. More now than ever.

S: Careful you don't pull a muscle in this place.

S: Isn't it so that every time you speak as you cast a spell, you're endeavoring to call upon Mystra? I'm surprised she still listens to you.

G: She has no choice. She's sworn to hear all magic users. Even me. I'm sure she at least stuffs her fingers in her ears to muffle my invocations.

G: The history of the city itself is captured in the archives here. A fascinating resource.

W: I wonder what those archives will reveal about us a hundred years hence.

G: Only the most excellent and complimentary things. With some encouragement from us, of course.

G: Look at this place. Such horrors defy description.

S: Silence can be best. Give it a try sometime.

S: What if this creche doesn't work out, Lae'zel? What if your kin fail you?

L: If I can reach the creche, my kin will provide. Any failure will be mine alone.

S: If you say so. Just don't expect me to put all my eggs in the same basket.

G: That expression must sound curious to a githyanki ear, given the way they're birthed.

G: Gods. Who knew such a vile abscess lurked in the bedrock of this city? The very stone reeks of misery and despair.

J: Mm. A sad shrine kept by the lunatic and the lost. The last time I was here, I promised myself I would die beneath open sky. I have not changed my mind.

G: Nor should you. Far better to feel a cool breeze on your skin than whatever foul expirations blow through these halls.

A: Eh, can't say I love what they've done with the place.

G: Unsurprising, really. Fanatical cultists tend to care more for ambience then aesthetics.

A: Hrm. Reason enough to put them all to the sword, I say.

A: Heh, what's this? A clever little hideaway. A little too clever, if you ask me. Watch out for traps.

G: Not just clever. Rather ingenious! Somehow its construction keeps the shadow curse away.

S: The end must be near. No regrets, Gale? You may have been better off staying inside this boulder.

G: Unlikely. Had I stayed there much longer, the orb would have reduced it to rubble. Besides, think of all the fun I'd've missed out on.

S: Fun? Well, yes… I suppose we did manage to make the best of things.

[serpentface]

I have yet another question.

You’ve established that only a few species of true cat survive in this setting. Do domesticated cats still exist? If not: what other animals, if any, fill the role of “small carnivore you keep in your house, barn, or ship to kill rats and other pests”?

Oh I actually had a few drawings ready for this! Yeah, analogues to the african wildcat have been extinct in this setting for millenia and were never domesticated, but to be annoying I have another small domesticated animal solely referred to as a 'cat' anyway.

The domestic 'cat' is a small member of the hyaenodontoid 'cat' family and is the most populous and common animal filling roles for small pest control, and are frequently kept in barns, granaries, and ships. The minor Burri deity Nelwasi is the god of granaries and is generally depicted in the form of a cat.

They fill near-identical niches to irl cats, though differ in behavior (their social structure and reproductive habits more closely resemble that of foxes). They don't meow, but make yipping and squeaking noises.

There's a couple other well-established small ratting animals in the setting:

Many far northeastern people (particularly Urswali and Bylaeans) prefer a type of fox called the frandir, which has begun to be more widely dispersed in use in recent history via sea trade.

An (as of yet unnamed) type of mid-sized domesticated mustelid is the traditional ratter and small housepet in most of Imperial Wardin, though it is less common in the contemporary than cats. They're now mostly kept as companion animals (with cats performing active pest control roles)