#{ SHADOW AND BONE LET'S GOOOO. }

[jccatstudios]

Six of Crows: A Comic Adaptation

Part 1, Chapter 2

Pages 19–20

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#halfway done with chapter 2 let's goooo #soc comic adaptation #six of crows #six of crows fanart #soc #soc fanart #grishaverse #kaz brekker #crooked kingdom #grishaverse fanart #inej ghafa #jesper fahey #shadow and bone netflix #kanej #comics #six of crows comic

[daily-ravka]

Keeping Up With The Grishaverse 

Missed the clips? The interviews?⎮ February 2023 - March 5th, 2023

⚡️Rounding up everything in the past month before the junket interview rains down on us.

Interviews and Articles with the Cast or Creators ⎮ Video Format

Netflix’s Shadow & Bone Cast Reacts to Season 2 Trailer | IGN Fan Fest 2023

WATCH: Dazzling April cover girl Amita Suman teams up with Shadow and Bone co-star Jessie Mei Li for Tea With Tatler 

Interviews and Articles with the Cast or Creators ⎮ Reading Format

The Darkling Wages War With an Unstoppable Army in 'Shadow and Bone' Season 2 Trailer**

'Shadow and Bone's Writers Address The Darkling's "Gaslighty" Ways in Season 2**

'Shadow and Bone' Season 2: Netflix Reveals How the Costumes Tease the Story**

Shadow and Bone showrunner teases the Crows’ season 2 story – and the introduction of new characters**

Amita Suman: style sensation! A look back at the Tatler cover star’s most show-stopping moments

Shadow and Bone star Patrick Gibson unpacks his dual 'Tony Stark–esque' season 2 role**

🚨Official Content🚨

Shadow and Bone: Season 2 | Official Trailer 

Meet Wylan

Meet Nikolai, Tamar and Tolya

How Well Does The Shadow and Bone Cast Know Fan Slang? 

Official Clip: New Alliance | Netflix**

Shadow & Bone Cast React to Fan Theory & Thirst Tweets | Netflix**

Links marked with asterisks (**) may contain plot details and spoilers 

✨Need the list of interviews of a specific cast member? Want to know which article your favourite ship was mentioned? Looking for something specific for your edits? Our ask box is open!✨

- Full Masterlist now on our pinned post. 

#shadow and bone #six of crows #Grishaverse #shadow and bone netflix #daily ravka #daily ravka list #daily list #we are back in business #lets goooo

[noonvoid]

They better not have actually killed off David??? The hell 😭😭

#like bro he had MORE TIME CMON. they just hate genya #that was so fucked up!!! #ALSO ALINA KEEPING HER POWERS LETS GOOOO #may be speaking too soon tho bc I’m only halfway through the last ep #THE BEE ON ZOYAS COAT AND THE SHOT OF NIKOLAI BEFORE HER UMMMM. YEAH OK #rip to Alina’s iconic white hair though #shadow and bone

[wingsofhcpe]

There's an old Ravkan saying about how two hearts joined into one cannot be rent apart. Yet when civil war breaks out and Ivan finds himself a captive of the Sun Summoner with no knowledge where Fedyor is, and whether he's even alive still, he wonders if he'll be able to find the other half of his heart ever again- or whether they'll get out of this war alive, at all.

[season 2 compliant]

Rated T

#mar's fic tag #shadow & bone #fivan #fedyor kaminsky #ivan kaminsky #fedyor x ivan #shadow and bone #sab s2 #chapter 2 let's goooo #heartrender husbands

[manyfandomsonelog]

“An opportunity has presented itself… the most lucrative job we have ever taken” IS IT SIX OF CROWS TIME??????????!!!

#LET’S GOOOO #shadow and bone spoilers #liveblogging

[colorfulsmayles24]

I guess it’s finally time to bring this back

#SEASON TWO LETS GOOOO #shadow and bone #shadow and bone season 2 #darklina #s&b season 2 #alina starkov #darkling shadow and bone #alina x kirigan #alina x aleksander #aleksander morozova #jessie mei li #Ben Barnes #Spotify

[inejghavertz]

i am here to say I love mal oretsev

#market chase scene lets goooo #shadow and bone #shadow and bone spoilers

[ruins-and-rewritez]

I'm making an appeal of the highest power

#shadow and bone #netflix #season 2 #lets goooo #rarzo #ruinsrevival

[startingfires]

WESPER WESPER WESPER THE GAYS KISSED AGAJSGDJDHD

#let's goooo #shadow and bone #shadow and bone spoilers #sab spoilers #ramblings of a rafaela

[solaneceae]

my battery is low, and it's getting dark.

a codebreakers fanfic about étoiles losing his sight. read on Ao3

It starts off with light blurriness �� the kind you get when you forget to remove your contacts before bed, dryness and irritation welcoming you back to the waking world. Étoiles doesn’t wear contacts, although he does don a pair of sturdy, cheap rectangular glasses on occasion, whenever reports have to be read or written in thin leather-bound books for the Résistance’s upper echelon. 

(Upper echelon he’s never caught a whiff off, by the way. Étoiles understands the need for secrecy, for compartmentalization — but damn, it does get lonely here in headquarters, with nothing but his own voice and long-dried ink speaking of codes going rogue and islander alignments to entertain himself with.)

He blinks, once, twice, rubbing at his eyeballs through the skin of his lids. No amelioration. He shrugs it off, readjusts the straps of his slime armor. It’s a shit one, not even the good enchants on it. But he’s been restless lately, antsy. Not quite worried, but something else, something in the negative shape of a beloved, beret-wearing egg. Ants under his greenish skin, a fire only the cold bite of enemy blades and a close brush with Lady Death can fix.

He likes Kristin. She’s funny, with her large brimmed hat and gentle smile and gentler words still. Philza’s a lucky man.

“You are sad,” she would say, in the space-between-spaces he would drift to when downed, just before the ‘doom-doom’ of revival. The crimson bud of her smile would twist into a scowl, as she watched him give her a two-fingered salute. “Is that why I see you so often, starling?”

“I’m not sad,” he would answer without fail — the ache inside his chest wasn’t sadness. Étoiles didn’t do sad. He killed, he destroyed, his body grown in a weapon meant to hurt and maim and be hurt in return. Meant to be wielded by someone worthy. (He thinks of pitch-black feathers and a wheezy laugh, the tingle of wither-decay dancing on his skin, the smell of bone. Claws digging into his bony hips, a litany of trills speaking of ownership-claim, great shadows trapping him in so effectively. His knee guards stained by fresh soil where potatoes are endlessly grown in honor of a great warrior he once crossed blades with. Worship, devotion.)

“I’m not sad,” he mumbles, jumping down the well and into the darkness of the dungeon below. Hopefully it wouldn’t be a shit one, and he could scratch that itch in the back of his mind that demanded blood be spilled, be it his or otherwise. “Maybe I die for real today, let’s goooo.”

He never does. He’s too good at dungeoning, too good at placing blocks and throwing splash potions at his feet, golden apples now a rare last resort because he knows what happens when he eats too many. Aaaah, what a pity, he thinks, as he loses himself in the clash of metal on metal and the grunt of mobs falling at his feet. What a pity, I feel nothing. Bad day for me, bad day.

***

The blurriness stays. Days go by, sluggish and quiet, too quiet on this shit island, and no amount of sleep or healing potions make it any better. His arm stings with static-burn where the black and green binary tar has spread, higher, creeping up his neck. But it does nothing to hinder his movements, doesn’t dull the sharpness of his mind. So he ignores it. “Maybe you should get that checked out or something,” Foolish pokes at it once, as they sit and talk atop the Titan’s head using the blue and green plush chairs the TazerCraft have sneaked in. Pac e Mike, wow wow, sings a little voice in Étoiles’ mind whenever he sees splashes of blue and green, because those two live rent-free in everyone’s builds and brains.

“It’s okay,” he smiles at the shark-totem, easy and casual and Étoiles. “It doesn’t hurt.” It doesn’t. “It’s not changing me.” He is changing, that softness that Pomme had made bloom inside him eroding away with every day she’s gone. It’s harder to stay still, harder to stop and talk to the others, because half of them are depressed and the other half are going insane. But none of that is the code’s doing. “Look, I’ll prove it! 1v1 stick?” he jumps to his feet, throwing a wooden stick at his friend with a fiendish grin. “1v1, right now, let’s go.”

Foolish chuckles, even though his smile doesn’t reach his emerald-carved eyes. (His features are hazy, fuzziness getting worse every time Étoiles wakes. Doesn’t matter.) 

They fight, Étoiles takes it home with six hearts to spare. And he still feels empty.

***

Lilacs. Sunflowers. Cornflowers. Poppies.

Flower biomes were Pomme’s favorites. They’re hard to find, but Étoiles is one patient, stubborn cucumber. “T’aurais adoré ça, légende,” he hums, picking another poppy by the stem and stuffing it into his inventory, the frozen subspace keeping it suspended in time and fresh. He can almost hear the pitter-patter of her little cheeto legs in the grass, the rustle of the blades against her shell. The bomp of a red sign being placed, asking for more red, more blue, more of every color to make her siblings flower crowns and dye her trusty scythe like a rainbow.

He can barely make out their shape anymore, only differentiating roses from poppies by tracing their petals with gold-scarred fingers. He sees a blue blur somewhere at his right, oh, cornflower probably. Her secret code.

He lets out a deep, guttural groan and lets his body fall backwards, hitting the plush grass with a thump. A few butterflies flutter out of the way, one of them settling back on the bridge of the warrior’s nose. He glares at it, faded golden stars comically crossed. He only sees the yellow of its wings, stark against sky blue. “Hey, hey. Tu vas rien trouver ici, tu sais. J’ai pas fleuri depuis des plombes.”

The critter’s wings flap once, unbothered. Étoiles blows on it to make it go away, fails. (He’s a failure, at everything. Fails to keep his kid safe, fails to win a 1v1 against an insect.) Soon enough, there is enough butterflies on him to pin him to the ground under the would-be guilt of disturbing them. Étoiles whines, childish and unserious. “Vas-y, j’peux plus bouger. Pas juste. Même la nature me déteste, c’est bon.”

He’s missed this. The warmth of a sunbeam, the scent of fertile soil, the brush of grass blades, the call of the earth below pulling at him. Part of him wants to sink into it, curl up in Her embrace like a child would in their mother’s womb, forget about the world and the Federation and the Codes and all this shit. Maybe he could fall asleep right here. Let his body soak up the sun, let himself bloom again. Let that softness grow out of his skin for all to see, like he used to. Or, he thinks he used to. The memories of Before are static-fuzz between his ears, unreachable unless he looks at them at the corner of his eye, so to speak.

(The freezing cold, then heat as air exploded around him, an impact. Physicality, sudden and unexpected, the song of the stars loud in his ears as he opened his eyes for the first time in front of a bewildered human in a frayed straw hat. He was happy, wasn’t it? He thinks he used to be happy. What happened?)

But Étoiles is a warrior, a weapon, and weapons dull and rust and grow weak if left to rest. So he takes a deep breath, pushes himself up. “Désolé,” he hums to the butterflies as they scatter away. They are but bright, colorful blobs in his dulling eyes. “Désolé,” he says as he warps back home to forge yet another axe. 

His inventory is full of flowers that he’ll forget about, wrapping him in a constant mix of herbal scents that has Cellbit recoiling next time they cross paths. Étoiles doesn’t notice it, the Brazilian’s bothered expression lost on his rapidly-decaying vision.

***

By the time the Code challenges him to what Étoiles knows will be their last duel for the foreseeable future, his sight is all but gone, everyone and their dog has taken notice, and he has brushed off their concern. “I don’t need to see to click good,” he boasts, slamming down deepslate to launch himself fast and run circles around a disgruntled Pac. “See, see! I’m strafing, I’m doing it, playing the game.” Pac makes a strange sound, one he struggles to guess the emotion behind without body language. “It’s okay, Pac. It’s easy. There’s no problem, at all.”

Phil isn’t here yet, can’t see any names on his comlink but Tubbo told him he wasn’t. Shame, shame he won’t be there to see him die, Étoiles thinks as the rain soaks through his shirt, the boom of lightning bothering him more than he lets show. His ears are ringing as he jumps, ducks, tugs at the string of his bow and sends an arrow flying where he knows the Code is, he can feel it, the only spot that doesn’t smell like anything but void. But there’s no feedback, no satisfying sound of health being chipped at, nothing.

This Code is too strong, his sword winging an off-tune melody as it goes through the binary without ripping or tearing. No damage. Ah, he thinks, so they have finally stopped playing. I see now.

The back of his chestplate shatters into a blast of broken enchant magic and diamond shards, some of them lodging themselves into his flesh. Something cold sinks between his ribs, brushing against his spine in a white-hot flash of pain that irradiates through his whole body, and oh, yeah, it’s over. It’s joever, as Tubbo would say. “GGs,” he gasps through a mouthful of dark green blood. He coughs it up, lets it splash down his neck and paint his shirt. Tubbo’s screaming somewhere, too far away for Étoiles to discern the words. “You- eugh, you slash-kill’ed me, good job you cheater. Easy win.”

The entity growls, a hum-buzz that makes his brain (or whatever he has for brains, maybe lettuce?) rattle inside his skull. The blade slides out, cutting away at him further on its way out, and his body falls into a puddle of rainwater and mud with a wet thud. It hurts, blackered arm buzzing, pain creeping up his neck and the right side of his face, extinguishing the last of his remaining sight. 

He faintly realises that almost nobody knows about his respaw mechanic. Ah, et merde. He hopes they’ll have the presence of mind to ask Antoine, when they realise he wouldn’t just re-pop into existence seconds after his death… or when they noticed his body starting to wilt and decay, if they stuck around for long enough.

(Tallulah knows, he remembers. He told her. But had she told Philza, before she disappeared along with all the other eggs?)

Through his fading senses, his comm buzzes with what he knows is his first death message in a really long time. He can make out the sound of rapid footsteps, clickety hooves and heavy, leather work boots. Tubbo and Pierre. He closes his eyes, not that he needs to anymore for darkness to cradle him. He lets go.

He doesn’t see Kristin this time, only hears a faint sigh and a gentle breath sending him off into the void. He hopes they find his seed soon. He doesn’t wanna stay missing for too long, after all.

***

His personal death-void is not so bad of a place. Boring, obviously, but there’s a familiarity to it, to the way the darkness shrouds him like a heavy blanket, pushing against him from all sides. Not oppressive but comforting. Cradling, instead of crushing.

It reminds him of the dirt patch he was born in — he had been asleep and new, just ripe for the picking, dirt-stained hands pulling at his stem with the roughness of a long-repeated gesture. He had screamed, he thinks, not in pain, but to show the world he was here and alive, hello, hello sun, hello dirt, hello person! Had given poor old Théo a heart attack too.

Ah. He could remember, now. Théo, his leathered face and kind eyes with crow feet, wary at first before this walking, talking little legume with the night sky in his eyes, flower-covered vine-tail like some sort of umbilical cord trailing behind him as he follows the old farmer around, asking him endless questions in barely-legible French. But… yes, he’d been kind to him, Étoiles thinks. The first face his face saw. Makes sense it would be one of the first things that came back to him. Maybe remembering was easier in the void? Maybe he should die more often.

…Nah. Dying wasn’t his style. And having to regrow a whole new body over a week was annoying. He had things to do in the island! Like talking with people (eurgh), and giving them things (yes) and fighting with Philza (yes! yes! yes!) and have fun!

So he waits, oblivion pulling at him like gravity. The void is a quiet place, sometimes, but more often it’s not, with the song of supernovas and wailing stars far away keeping him aware, listening. He hums along to it with no mouth or vocal chords (not yet, still growing, still so small, unripe), and sometimes he swears he can hear another voice singing with him. Off-key, awful really, almost crow-like, but it sounds like someone he cares about, so he’s happy to listen to its drone.

Other times, he sleeps. And he dreams of tiny hands and quiet chirps and clicks, of the yesyes uncle Phil taught her, of the chrr-chrr-peep that means him, when she calls Étoiles’ name in her own little language. And he curls around the memory, softness, and lets it carry him up into the stars glittering behind still-forming eyelids.

***

“Étoiles.”

He hums — warmth, the slow beating heart of the earth. The choir of stars constantly burning far, far away. He could listen to it forever, because he had been listening to it since the birth of the first star, he knew.

“Mate. You with me? C’mon, s’been a week already. Come up here, you can do it.”

The voice scratches pleasantly at the back of his brain. But the earth is so warm, so comfy, a cocoon of peace and respite he’s not sure he wants to leave. He sighs with no lungs to breathe, no need for them, when all he could ever need is right there — perfect temp, perfect moisture, glucose, carbon dioxide, rich nutrients all around. Who needs gapples, really. Or thoughts. Or responsibilities. This is the best.

“...Mh. Alright then.”

The voice grates on his ears, ears that try to flick but are stopped by the soil packed around them. He groans in drowsy irritation, curls in on himself in an attempt to shield himself from it and from the world. It seems to work, the noises fading into nothing, and Étoiles feels his thoughts scatter as a faint scratching sound seeps through the earth and into his mind like white noise. Sleep pulls at him again, and he lets it.

He’s startled back into wakefulness by something pulling harshly, somewhere that feels a bit away but is still part of him. His eyes fly open in pained surprise because ow, ow, that’s my— “Come here, you lazy fuck!” That voice — high-pitched, that heavy accent he’s come to love, amusement and exasperation combined, Phil, his Phil, his GOAT, his brother in arms, his Death-touched angel.

Étoiles blinks, unseeing. Étoiles remembers. And with awareness comes something else, something that shimmers and calls his name in gentle whisper-echoes, as he feels himself being pulled up, and up, dirt parting to let him ascend back to the surface. Aah. Goodbye mama. Hello problems. “Get harvested, idiot!” Philza Minecraft grunts with effort somewhere above him, and the tug gets stronger, prompting a pained ow out of him as the ground crackles and breaks above him, and he feels air-sun-outside on his back as he’s forcefully pulled from the ground like the fresh crop he is. He flails a little bit, kicking off dirt and soil (it’s everywhere, in his hair and between his toes and a little in his mouth and nose, bleh!), then rolls onto his back with a groan, frowning up at the sky he knows is there, blue and clear, because it doesn’t smell like rain and the surface soil is dry and warm.

He’s back. And he sees nothing at all. Welp, better close his eyes again then. He feels a shadow fall on him, feels a sandaled foot nudge his side. “Helloooooo. Hello Phil,” he greets the other leaning hard on the deadpan because he knows it makes his friend laugh when he does that. It lands. “What, that’s it?” the elytrian caws, kneeling beside him and poking at his face, talons dulled to a gentle roundness. Étoiles wishes he didn’t trim them, but Phil is too nice, too careful, too eager to smooth himself down for others, for the eggs. Docile.

Étoiles despises it, but he keeps quiet because he knows Phil doesn’t like to talk about those things. “You get yourself killed by a fucking Code of all things,” Phil keeps going, “make everyone freak the fuck out because you won’t respawn like a normal fucking person, and that’s all you have to say for yourself?”

“Antoine knows. And I’m here now, so it’s okay.”

“Antoine barely logs on, you absolute dumbass. You’re lucky Lullah told me about the seed thing, because you would’ve been fucked six ways to Sunday.”

He opens his eyes, if only to shoot Phil a halfhearted glare. And then immediately forgets about it, blinks owlishly. Sits up to get closer to the other man. “Phil. Why are you stars?”

“What.”

He sees stars. (And not in the sex way, because he doesn't do that.) It’s not night, but there are stars in his vision, where pitch blackness used to be, and the constellation is Phil-shaped.

Philza is a cosmic cluster, a nebula shining bright in the darkness that has become his world. He can see nothing beyond him, not the plants surrounding him, not the long vine attached to his lower back Phil used to pull him out. He can tell it’s there, though, lightly thumping at the ground in agitation. “You, are stars. That’s how I see you now.”

“Wait. Can you, like, see again?” Phil asks, uncharacteristically soft. “I know it was getting… bad. And your eyes are like, all greyed out. Did the code stuff on your arm do that?” Étoiles sees a cluster of stars approaching his face — hand — and feels fingers brushing just under his right eye. He’s a bit startled by the contact, the area usually covered by his trust bandana (he needs it back, needs his stuff back, hopefully someone held onto it for him). Phil draws away, an apology ready from the way his constellation-body shifts, but Étoiles doesn’t let him. “I can’t,” he answers, tilting his head, ear flicking in focus — the stars that make up Phil sharpen, and he can almost make out the shape of the wings bound behind his back. “But I can See. I think.” He also wouldn’t mind Phil’s hand on his face again. It feels nice. Scratches at something long-buried, and denied.

Philza makes a confused sound. “Okay, I heard that capital S there. What’s that mean? Are you pulling a Daredevil?”

Étoiles grins, sharp-toothed and playful. “Oh, oh! He thinks I’m a superhero? He thinks I’m cool, Felipe Minecraft? Big win for me.” Phil rolls his eyes, which Étoiles can tell because the crow always makes that low warble when he does. “But no, it’s not like that. I still need my eyes to see like this, and I don’t hear or smell better than before.” Although his status as a hybrid means his baseline is still higher than the average person’s, but that’s irrelevant. “FF.”

“So no cool blindfold for you, ey?”

“No cool blindfold. I will just do a Pomme and drown myself later, to make up for how uncool I am.” (He cannot drown. No lungs. But he can pretend.)

He squints. There’s a little cluster, right there at the side of Phil’s head. He can connect the dots, identify the shape of the elytrian’s bucket hat, but there’s something else there too. “What’s that on your head, Phil? I can’t make it out well.”

“Oh— here,” the other takes his hand and guides it towards his hair, and Étoiles feels a familiar texture under his pads. He makes a noise of surprise. “That’s. Mine.”

“Do you want it back?” Phil hums, brushing at the large cucumber flower tucked in the band of his hat. “It bloomed this morning, on top of the plant you were growing under. Took it as a sign you were, uh, done cooking.” Étoiles snorts. Good guess. “But uh, I guess the plant was also you, cuz it’s at the end of your tail now. Dragging.” Ah. Yeah. He really ought to cut it. “Is it weird? That I’m wearing a piece of you? I don’t know what… fuckin’... cucumber etiquette is.”

“It’s not weird,” Étoiles says, because he doesn’t think it is. “You can keep it.” He kind of likes it. That Phil’s wearing a piece of him. It makes him, happy? “You know, that I am your weapon. Yes? So it makes sense, that you show it.”

“You’re my friend. Don’t call yourself a weapon, man.”

“Same thing for me.”

Phil’s response is wordless, a simple, noncommittal mmh. But Étoiles can hear the hidden fondness in it. He pushes a little further, crudely imitates that  one bird sound Philza makes when he’s happy. Whoops internally when Phil puffs out his feathers and trills out a yesyes in return. Héhé. “Yes yes, Philza? Fight me, right now?” he slips into his usual stance, just a bit offset by the lack of armor weighing him down. “1v1, no weapons, no armor? Fistfight, let’s go.”

Phil cackles, crow-like. “I am not fighting you right now, you little shit. You menace. What’s wrong with you?”

“Aww, Phil hates me,” the warrior whines. “He hates me. He won’t 1v1 me, he must hate me. Sad.”

“Oh my god, stop being a baby.”

“I was literally born five minutes ago. I am baby, and Felipe Minecraft hates me,” he sasses back, and Phil throws his arms towards the sky in exasperation. “Oh come on. I spent a week protecting your green ass! Making sure you got enough sun and water and shit, it was like doing egg tasks all over again. Antoine even talked me into fucking singing, pretty sure he was pranking me with that one by the way, and still you think I hate you?”

“Nice caulk, Phil.”

He can’t see it, but Étoiles knows Phil’s eyelid is twitching. “Mate. I got a faceful of ass pulling you out of here, you’re on thin fucking ice.”

The cucumber snorts. “Héhé, got mooned by the stars.” That was kinda funny. “You were pulling me by the tail, I do not know what you expected. You’re lucky I’m a plant, or there would have been full cock and balls there.”

“Bruh. I thought it would be connected to your… plant belly button, or whatever, like an umbilical cord.”

“It’s an ass button, GGs.”

“Jesus Christ, please don’t call it that. I didn’t even know you had a tail. You didn’t before.”

“That’s because I always cut it,” the warrior huffs, said tail lashing behind him from the restless energy that always accompanies a new body. Its leaves drag around the loose dirt in little swish-y sounds. “Give me a sword, Phil, it’s already annoying me.”

The crow peers down at the vine, then back at him. “I dunno, man. You look kinda fun with it.” Étoiles squints. He can’t quite make out Phil’s expression like this, all stars and nothing between them, but he can hear the hidden laughter in his voice. “...I will cut it with my teeth then.”

“Won’t that hurt more than with a blade?”

“It doesn’t hurt. Only the base. Like when you pulled on it.”

“Why not keep it? It’s a part of you.”

Because it speaks for me, he considers replying. Because it says and shows things that I don’t want people to see. Even now, it wags, because Phil is here and now brushing stray dirt out of his hair and it’s very nice. (Is he touch-starved? He might be. Pomme is gone, and he doesn’t trust people to touch him, other than with blunt force and sharp diamond blades.) But Étoiles hasn’t kept his tail since he was a child, still wide-eyed and showing his innermost self to the whole world without any shield. He feels weird. Exposed. And it’s okay with Phil, because Phil is Phil, but it’s not okay because they’re out in the open and anyone could come and see. He doesn’t like that. “Because people can grab it, and it gets stuck in things, and it’s annoying. I cut it, now.” He tugs at the appendage, bringing it up to his mouth. “Nope,” Phil snatches it away, and Étoiles hisses at him. “Calm down, dude. At least let’s do it cleanly.”

“Eeeeuugh. Okay.”

”Then we’re getting your stuff back from Antoine’s, good god. You’re still butt-naked and I won’t have you strut around like that.”

“He has my things? Comms, armor, my backpacks?”

“All of it, yeah,” the older man huffs, and Étoiles can hear the telltale sound of an item being summoned of an inventory. Enchanted axe, he parses, recognizing the ozone-y smell of the sharpness enchant and the sound of the air being sliced downward. He doesn’t feel anything when the vine is severed, frowns when he realises Phil left a good… fifty centimeters of it, still attached to his body. “Phil. You misclick? You aim like shit today?”

“You said it hurts near the base,” the elytrian huffs, finality lacing his every word. “Keep it or cut the rest later, your pick, but I’m not hurting you.”

Étoiles’ ear flicks in confusion, and so does his tail. It moves faster, easier now without the rest of the plant weighing it down. “...We fight each other all the time, that hurts more. I don’t care.”

Phil stays silent for a few seconds. Nebula-Phil shifts before him. “It’s. Different.”

Étoiles hums. Philza has the Tone™ again, the one that means he’s thinking of things that hurt. He thinks of clipped feathers, of matted down that he wishes he could run his fingers through and fix, fix, let me fix it, let me do this for you. But he says nothing. Maybe another time, when they’re both ready for that conversation. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Maybe I keep it this time. Maybe.”

He can hear Phil’s smile in the next word he speaks. “Attaboy.” And he tries to ignore the way his tail wags with renewed enthusiasm at that.

#qsmp #etoiles #philza #codebreakers #fanfic #q!étoiles #qetoiles #q!philza #qphilza #i have them on the brain like bad #ao3 tags GO #temporary character death #respawn mechanics #ambiguous relationships #q!étoiles and q!phil have a Thing going on #and i am unable to put a word on it #big up to someone i know for the inspo #blindness #self-esteem issues #this little cucumber is a little Fucked Up™ #but he tries his best!

[labyrinthdancer]

Magic systems let's goooo!!!

this is for my AU Monarchs Will

@somer-writes finished!!!

alright getting the light magic out of the way first cause we're here for the dark magic!

Light or holy magic consists of these magic types(so far):

light,

devine,

fire,

water,

air,

earth,

lightning,

healing,

and time.

Light magic is innate and not something you can just learn, if you can use fire magic you can't just turn around and use air magic, you have to have that magic in you too.

there are no special types of magic like in dark magic, fire magic is offensive, you can be creative about it and use it as a defense but it will never actually be defensive. it does what it does and that's it.

light magic is also hereditary but is prone to lay dormant for several generations.

Dark magic on the other hand!

dark magic isn't innate, anyone can learn it.

dark magic also has tells when you are using it(light magic does not), everyone who uses it has their own tell, Midna had those portal lookin things she uses in Hyrule Warriors(in her true form), Link's fingers and toes turn black, Merida(OC don't mind her) has magic circles around her wrist and ankles like bracelets.

tells intensifies based on how much magic a person is using, i.e. the blackness on Link’s fingers and toes will go up his limbs.

once a person reaches a certain threshold of magic strength their body will start changing(not permanently) and they will start entering a ‘berserk faze’, this doesn’t mean they go berserk they just start looking more monstrous, people typically have two stages to their berserk forms,

Midna first grows horns(gazelle-like) and her hair turns into hands(not just one think gloom hands) then full-on turns into a centaur with a lynal bottom half,

the blackness on Link’s hands and feet first grows up to his elbows and knees and then he starts ‘fusing’ with Wolffie and the shadow crystal, he grows wolf ears and tail, his eyes turn into wolf eyes and he has Wolfie's marking on his body, his arms and legs turn into crystals like the shadow crystal and his hands get claws and his feet are kind of wolf-like. Wolffie also has a berserk form :D but I haven’t figured out what it looks like just yet :/

these are the types of dark magic(so far):

offensive shadow,

defensive shadow,

offensive blood,

defensive blood,

teleportation,

time,

portal,

transformation,

telekinesis,

beast,

mind,

bone,

offensive ice,

defensive ice.

because there are so many different types of dark magic they are separated into categories,

travel magic: Time, teleportation, portal,

warping magic: bone, blood, transformation, ice,

control magic: mind, telekinesis, beast,

dark magic presents itself differently depending on whether it is offensive or defensive:

offensive shadow magic is like obsidian, defensive is like rubber or silicon, it's solid but has a give to it.

offensive blood magic is like glass or crystal, defensive is just blood texture but more solid.

offensive and defensive ice magic is boring and just looks like normal ice.

What each magic type does

most of these are self-explanatory but I’ll say em anyway.

shadow: you can control shadows, the farther the shadow the harder it is to control.

blood: you can control blood, it is easier to control spilled blood and your own blood than blood in other people's bodies.

teleportation: you can teleport, teleporting within eyesight is far easier than teleporting where you can’t see, it’s considered to be the more advanced form of portal magic as it is faster to use but more dangerous and difficult.

time: you can reverse and fast forward time to an existent(dark time magic is not as strong as its light variant), even tho it is possible to warp time things other than small objects it is EXTREMELY difficult and no one has been able or strong enough to do it in twelve generations(300 years).

portal: you can create portals from one place to another, it is simpler and easier than teleportation magic but it takes longer to cast and you have to know the runes to create the portal.

transformation: you can transform into things, creatures are the most common transformation but you can change into inanimate objects. transformation magic is very difficult and typically an enchanted item is used for the spell but even then it still uses your magic unless the item has magic stored in it.

telekinesis: it’s telekinesis that’s it. it’s mentally strenuous to use this magic type.

beast: you can communicate with animals, it is a common misconception that this is an easy magic to learn but in reality, it is very difficult to learn. With Mind Magic and a lot of effort, you could control animals. Devine Beast innately know this magic.

mind: you can make people susceptible to suggestion, change memories(to an existent), and alter their perception of reality(like if they were on drugs). this is also a very very hard magic to learn.

blood and bones are the only parts of the body that can be manipulated.

blood: you can control blood, it is easier to control your blood and spilled blood than it is to control blood in other people’s bodies, this is beginner-friendly magic except for controlling other people's blood,

bone: this is like blood magic but with bones. not as beginner-friendly but still easy to learn.

ice: this is the only elemental dark magic. You can turn any water into ice, turning the water in people body’s into ice is extremely difficult and more difficult if it’s not your own body.

Spells!!!! :D

don’t have a ton of these but there are a few(some of these aren’t actually spells just common things you can do)

Dark Castle: a giant castle rises from the ground made out of shadows, it pushes everything livening that the caster deems an enemy out of its borders, it is nearly impenetrable and is the most powerful defensive shadow spell and one of the most powerful defensive spells. Currently, Midna is the only one who is powerful enough to use it and it would kill anyone else if they tried.

Blood Sword: this is a common offensive blood technique, you draw blood out of your pores and form it into a blade.

Ice Tears: this is a hard spell to learn. You freeze the water in the air around you and create tiny razor sharp daggers that slice anyone who walks through them.

#linked universe #legend of zelda #Monarchs Will #Labs lore dump

[sparrowmoth]

Tagged by @dearmrsawyer. Thank you, hun! It's actually been a while since someone tagged me in something like this, so let's goooo... 💖

Last song: Currently listening to "The Kiss" by Luigi Rubino (from one of my fave sweet and melancholy instrumental piano albums)

Favourite colour: Purple... but I think hot pink is really creeping in on me tbh. The more I detach it from ridiculous and arbitrary gender meanings, the more I love it. I just bought a hot pink bedspread so.

Currently reading: "Shark Heart: A Love Story" by Emily Habeck. Very slowly, because I'm a snail, but I love it. My best friend got it for her book of the month thing recently and lent it to me after she read it because after she told me about it, I was looking at her like 👁 👁 (which is to say that I was extremely intrigued adjkgjkdgd)

Currently watching: Nothing, really. I haven't been in the mood for TV in weeks, so I've just been watching ACNH island tours on YouTube while I eat lunch sometimes and that's about it lol

Sweet/savoury/spicy: Sweet or spicy depending on my mood

Relationship status: Single mom of one dog djakgjkdd

Current obsession: Six of Crows/Shadow and Bone, no contest. If it's not about the Crows (capital C), I don't care. It's been a little over a year since this hyperfixation jumped me in a back alley and you know what, I've never been happier. I've met so many cool people in this fandom, made a bunch of amazing friends, my writing and art is flourishing... so yeah, I'm gonna be living here for a lifetime.

Last thing searched: Either perfume ingredients or how to alleviate rib pain, because I fucked something up in my ribs idk dajkgjkdg

Tagging (no pressure): @finitevoid @jazzythursday @waterloou @nerdlingmerchling @sixofcrowdaydreams @wespertilionidae @tinyarmedtrex @sunfl8wer and whoever else wants to do this!

#thank you for the tag! <3 #tag games #when did hot pink become my favourite colour lmao #I used to hate hate haaaaate pink so much for most of my life #but actually what I hated is being boxed into a gender role #surprise surprise #anyway hot pink fucks #it's so obnoxiously pink #I think that's why I like it #dajksgjkdjkgd #my room is slowing becoming just..... hot pink and crows #love that for me

[wheel-of-fish]

I got a bit of an early start on spooky season and I'm already doing so well!! October is not even READY for me

Books: The Shadow of the Wind, Let the Right One in, Nettle & Bone, like 60% of Babel

Movies: Rear Window, A Haunting in Venice, Carrie, The Blair Witch Project, A Nightmare on Elm Street

(I'm just now getting around to watching these movies because 1. I read too many books instead of watching them and 2. I had a hard time with horror for most of my life but I'm getting over it now let's goooo)

[nataliescatorccio]

SHADOW AND BONE SEASON 2 RELEASE DATE TOMORROW LET'S GOOOO

#and by this i mean we'll find out the release date not it's being released tomorrow idk if i've worded it right lol

[cappurrccino]

day 2: faroe

@malevoversary day 2, let's goooo! i think faroe deserves a monster best friend

[ read it on ao3 ]

~

The eternal night was… pretty, she realized. It wasn’t often that she got a moment to pause—especially not anywhere with open air overhead—but now that she had one? It was pretty in a haunted sort of way.

Everything was cast in the same deep black and cold grey and inky blue, shadows on shadows on eternal void, suggesting and hinting at what the landscape might be if you were lucky enough to be seeing true. Glitter and sparks and ribbons of light of every color shot through the deep murk. Things being chased, things doing the chasing, decoys, distractions, lures. Teeth and claws and knives flashing through the dark reflecting non-existent light.

She sighed heavily and her breath fogged in front of her. A kaleidoscopic cloud of every hue that shifted and twisted and drifted away on invisible currents. Dangerous, perhaps, to indulge, but she felt safe enough now.

That made her laugh.

Safe.

How strange to think she would ever feel that here. The only real memories she had were of running and fear and pain and cold and hide, hide, hide.

And yet…

She remembered safe. She remembered warmth and light. She remembered soft textures on her feet and gentle breezes on her face and laughter and a delicate melody with no end. She remembered the word Faroe.

Maybe they weren’t hers… Maybe she’d stolen them at some point. Maybe the Biter had given them to her.

It did that sometimes.

Most times she liked when it shared things with her. Sometimes she didn’t, but it was still nice to share. (It could see in the dark—she liked to see the shapes and colors the rocks took; she didn’t like to see what twisted around them, waiting in the dark.)

She pressed more snugly into the warm mass at her back and felt its rumbling response in her bones. It tickled and a small giggle escaped her. One eye blinked open near her head, followed by a dozen more in a halo around her. They had no pupils, but she knew they were looking at her (and at the landscape and at the sky and at a tiny skittering creature some distance away). A dozen tentacled limbs wrapped around her—the warmest and strangest blanket anyone could ask for.

Briefly, she marveled at that. It seemed like it hadn’t been that long ago when she’d found it, and it had been so tiny then, barely up to her knees. A wriggly little mass of eyes and teeth and bluster (she’d thought, until it had bitten her and she understood its fear as keenly as her own). And now? Easily three times her size, still wriggly, but less so; still many eyes and teeth, but more so.

A low warbling note rumbled from it, one she had come to associate with curiosity. It was melodic, almost. Reminded her again of the memories she carried.

“Do you want to hear a song?” she whispered.

It hummed again [excitement, hunger] and its many eyes blinked to focus on her (it showed her herself in the dark, and preened when she smiled up at it).

She gave one of its many limbs a soft pat and began to hum the unknown melody that haunted her every moment.

#//juri speaks #i wrote a thing #malevolent podcast #malevoversary #the biter is only a little bit inspired by my sea runners.... #it's just a little more violent about how it. uh. collects memories sometimes

[scurvgirl]

I just wanted to write Solavellan kisses. I’m tipsy from margaritas so let’s goooo

--

In the days following Solas’s confession on the balcony, Skyhold became a bustling stop for merchants and nobles alike. It kept Miriel frustratingly busy and away from the one man she wanted to be around. She wanted, no needed to talk to him. And kiss him. Shove him against a wall and feel his chest as their mouths locked and his hands found her butt again.

The nobles were making this very frustrating indeed.

She caught glimpses of Solas in passing. She’d walk by the rotunda in a group of nobles, glance in to see his back as he pondered a new addition to the mural. Or she’d see him reading a book in the garden as she spoke to a merchant about a new trade agreement. He’d glance up and give her a smile so small it was near imperceptible by anyone except her. 

Ar lath ma, vhenan. His words fluttered through her mind constantly. It filled her heart and head with incredible possibility and happiness. 

After two weeks of the noble and merchant rigmarole, Miriel sat in her room feeling exhausted but restless. Wind and rain battered the windows and lightning periodically streaked across the sky following claps of thunder. The sun had long set, the servants were long to bed, and still Miriel was awake. She starred out the window until the restlessness got the better of her. She headed down to the main hall, not even realizing she was heading towards the rotunda until she was there. A single candle flickered on Solas’s desk. Large shadows stretched up the walls, warping the mural into something that felt more sinister than usual. Solas wasn’t there, though. 

Miriel’s brow furrowed. Where could he be? She exited the rotunda to the bridge that led to Cullen’s office and leaned over the edge - there! He was walking away from Herald’s Rest, the rain soaking him to the bone. 

“Solas!” She called but didn’t wait for his response or for the rational option which was to wait for him. Nope, she ran back to the rotunda and then exited the grand hall down to the courtyard. The rain sank into her but she didn’t care. It was night and the only light came from the shielded oil lamps Josie had installed only a month ago. Her eyes caught the light and she found herself running to Solas.

In a flash, she was in his arms. His hands cradled her face and he smiled down at her, “Vhenan.” His mouth was on hers in the following moment, moving slowly but purposefully. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and his hands dropped from her face to her butt, gripping her tight against him. His tongue ran along her lips and she returned the favor. The kiss deepened and it was magic. Pure magic to feel him like this. She said everything she hadn’t been able to in the last few weeks with that kiss. She returned his love and needed him to know.

The kiss went on for a long time. They paid no mind to the rain, or to the lightning flashing around them or the thunder rumbling. All that mattered was the kiss. She sucked on his tongue, ran her hands down his chest, felt his thigh slide between her own. 

He pulled away briefly only to rest his forehead against hers.

“I did not know you enjoyed thunderstorms so much.”

She blinked, “What?” 

He chuckled before angling his head to kiss her neck, “Vhenan, where are we?”

“Skyhold?”

“Yes...and no.”

She blinked and suddenly she was no longer in Solas’s arms or in the middle of a thunderstorm, but rather in her bed. The morning sun was beginning to crest over the mountains and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Miriel’s hand drifted up to her lips which should have been swollen from kissing. A full day of handling nobles awaited her but...so did a night where she could dream and find Solas again. 

She smiled. Even though her responsibilities often kept her from him, they would always have their dreams and fade tongue.

#solavellan #solas #lavellan #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dai #fanfiction #miriel lavellan #scurv writes