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valiantstarlights · 9 months

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🌻🌼🌷🪻⚘️

Sending you flowers along with the image of former priest Hob having a gaggle of demonic princes and princesses raising literal Hell and making Demon Dream (and their aunts and uncles) proud

Thank you for the flowers! 🥰💐

Oh gosh, Dream and Hob's children. 🙏 They would be so cute, and they would never know their parents' endless debates when picking what to name them.

("Absolutely no Christian names," Dream would insist, all the while looking for books on baby names in the castle's cavernous library.

"You do realize that my name is Robert, right?" Hob would point out, sitting nearby with a heaping bowl of a shaved ice dessert, hand idly rubbing his very pregnant stomach.)

Twins Orpheus and Robyn would be their first children. For obvious reasons, they would be Desire and Despair's favorites, and they would absolutely spoil the boys with all sorts of gifts, like an iridescent harp for Orpheus, which, upon command, can transform into just about any stringed musical instrument, and a jet black fencing sabre for Robyn, with a blade that can cut an opponent via their shadow.

Not to be outdone, very proud father Dream would give the boys a complete set of (Your Demon Child's First™) torture tools, and lovingly instruct them on how to use each and every tool for maximum damage. He would then have the boys practice their skills on the lower demons who kidnapped Hob when he was pregnant with them.

(As promised, Hob often reminds his husband and his children to take breaks by enticing them with his delicious homemade meals.)

The boys are total troublemakers, but they have hearts of gold (like Hob), and everyone loves them.

Hope would be Dream and Hob's third child and first daughter. She takes after Hob in that she is very sweet and cheerful, but she looks more like Dream. She is her Aunt Death's favorite.

She sometimes joins her older brothers in torturing the lower demons who kidnapped their moddy, but she prefers to read with her parents in the library or spend time in the garden braiding flower crowns for Jessamy and Matthew, who are very gentle with her.

Daniel is adopted. Dream and Hob were visiting Despair when they saw baby Daniel playing with some hellhound puppies in a baby-proof room.

Hob was horrified at first, because why the fuck is a human baby in hell? But Despair explains that Daniel's human mother sacrificed him to get her dead husband back, and so she is fostering him until such a time that he could be adopted.

And Dream knows, from the fire in Hob's eyes, that they would end up adopting Daniel, so he tells his sister that they are interested in adopting him. In the background, we see Hob bending down to play roll-the-ball-back-and-forth with baby Daniel and the puppies, who are delighted to have a new playmate.

When Despair comes to Dream's territory maybe a couple of months later, with a healthier-looking Daniel ready to be dropped off to his new family, she arrives to a huge welcome party arranged by Hob and the kids. (Dream wanted to help, but he had to give an audience that morning. He did magic up some festive black decorations at the last minute, and in Hob's and the children's eyes, that totally counts.)

Orpheus and Robyn perk up at the sight of their favorite aunt and pester her with questions and stories both. Hob is handed the baby, and Daniel immediately recognizes him and smooshes his tiny face against Hob's cleft chin.

Hope, currently in Dream's arms, is talking a mile a minute as well. "Daniel is such a strange name! But that's okay because he's very cute. And very small! He's so small, Father! Was I that small before?"

"You were," Dream answers, and goes to sit beside Hob on the baby-proofed floor, putting Hope down so she could play with her new baby brother. "And so were your older brothers."

"No way!" Hope exclaims.

"Bah!" Daniel agrees, now inspecting the newcomer with fascinated, intelligent eyes. "Bah?"

"My name is Hope," Hope tells him. "I'm your sister. Do you want to play roll the ball? Moddy says you like that. We don't have hellhound puppies, but you can meet Matthew and Jessamy later."

Daniel sees the ball in her hands and makes grabby hands at it. "Mmbah-bah!"

Meanwhile, Hob leans against Dream and watches his family interacting with each other, feeling happy and content. He wouldn't have had this if he had remained a priest on earth. If Dream didn't... If they hadn't...

He remembers the nights he spent alone in his tiny room at the clergy house, hugging a pillow close to feel some semblance of warmth, praying for someone to find him, wanting for someone to love him.

Back then, he never would have imagined that the place he would finally be happy beyond measure, is in Hell.

"My love?" Dream asks, alarmed. "What is wrong? Why are you crying?"

"It's nothing," Hob says, and wipes away his tears. "I was just thinking how much I love you. You have given everything to me, and continue to give me more."

Dream holds him closer and kisses him on the forehead. "Then know what I love you as well, for you have also given me everything," Dream tells him. "You have given me beautiful children, and made this place feel like home. You fill my life with joy each and every day, and I am incredibly lucky to have you in my life."

Hob smiles up at his sweet, wonderful husband and they share a chaste kiss. He actually has a surprise for him, but Hob thinks that it could wait until later, after their children are asleep and he has Dream's attention all to himself.

(Later...)

As soon as Hob moves Dream's hand to rest on his lower stomach, Dream's hold on him immediately tightens. Hob wiggles a little on his husband's lap as he sees the possessive glint in his eyes.

"You're pregnant?" Dream asks, his voice lower than usual. It must be Nightmare creeping in.

Thighs clenching in anticipation for the wild night ahead of him, with both aspects of Dream coming out to play, Hob sighs helplessly, smiling all the while. "I can't seem to help it," he pouts. "My husband's cum is so potent that he's constantly impregnating me."

Dream growls and nips at his neck with Nightmare's sharp teeth, clever mouth sucking new marks against still bruised skin. "Your husband is going to end up giving you another set of twins if you don't stop being a little temptress."

Hob's eyes are dancing with mirth as he wiggles some more, making Dream grip his waist a little harder, nails lengthening into claws. Hob moans as he thinks about feeling those claw-tipped hands spreading his ass cheeks wider in order to accommodate Dream's monster cock plowing into him. "How...ah, unfortunate," he gasps out. "Maybe I should stop."

Dream raises an eyebrow and pulls away from marking up Hob's neck. "Maybe?"

Deep down, Hob knows that this is Dream asking if he should back off. If Hob would actually prefer to cuddle with him. And while Hob loves him for that, right now, he just really wants to be fucked so hard that he would gape for days.

Hob kisses the corner of Dream's mouth to thank him for being considerate, then holds on to his pale shoulders before slowly grinding down against Dream's hardening cock, already so thick against his thigh.

"Fuck me," he says breathily, like the total slut he has become. Dream shudders, and Hob could see just how hard he's clenching his teeth in order to be gentle with him. He leans forward and pulls at Dream's earlobe with his teeth. "We have more than enough rooms in the castle, have we not? Why don't we make sure all of them would be put into good use?"

(...Yeah, Hob gets his back broken like a glowstick that night.)

#priest hob AU #ask and you shall receive #dreamling #the sandman #my writing #good job my thumbs #i still can't get over how fluffy this AU can be 👀#and then bam! spicy stuff because dream and hob are insatiable for each other #children look away

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lesbian-empress-nero · 1 month

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Remember you are mortal.

As Goro stands, sabre poised to strike a Shadow, he vaguely recalls those words. They ring in his mind, a stranger’s voice in his ears. He doesn’t know where he heard them from.

Remember that you must die.

He sidesteps the Shadow’s attack, but he’s slowing down. He’s tired, separated from the group he’d been tailing. Junpei-san’s, if he recalls. His memory is becoming hazy from exhaustion.

Memento mori.

Next thing he knows, he’s being struck down, swatted at by the Shadow. He lands flat on his back, and struggles to roll out of the way as another attack comes.

He feels sharp claws come down on his shoulder, and he cries out, clamping a hand over it. The sabre tumbles from his hand, and he stares at the floor as it swims up and down.

He’s going to die here. He’s been hurt and he’s going to bleed out and die and it’ll have been his own fault. He’s going to die and he will rot, and his bones will be a feast for the Shadows.

He forgot he was mortal. He forgot that he, too, must die. He forgot that everything dies eventually.

Distantly, he heard someone shouting. There was the firing of a gun, and someone was hauling him to his feet.

In front of him, he saw Naoto-san, speaking worriedly to a pale-looking Yukari-san. She frowned, setting her bow down and seizing her Evoker from its holster. With practiced effortlessness, she turned it upon herself, firing at her forehead.

Her Persona appeared, and a warm glow surrounded him, bathing him in green light. He was alive. The determination and kindness of his senpais kept him alive, kept him breathing and his heart beating.

Distantly, he heard Naoto-san continue their conversation with her. “He’s handy with that sabre, I’ll give him that... But who knows what would have happened if we hadn’t found him?”

Yukari-san said nothing, interrupted by a voice from down the corridor.

“Is he okay!?” Goro turned around, feeling the strong arms of his Dad wrapping around him, the metal of his brass knuckles digging into the soft skin of Goro’s back. Nevertheless, he hugged back, burying his face in the soft vest.

“You had me worried sick! What were you thinking, coming in here by yourself!? We told you to stay out with Fuuka and Rise!”

Goro cast his gaze onto the floor, still weak from his encounter. “I’m sorry. I just- couldn’t stand by. I couldn’t.”

Dad’s expression softened, and he ran a hand through his pearly hair. “Next time, we’ll bring you with us if you promise to never leave our sides.”

Goro looked up, and nodded. “I swear it.”

And he meant it. Never again would he venture on his own into these halls. It was too dangerous without his Persona. Maybe one day, he’d be able to.

But that day was not today.

Memento mori.

Akechi's weakness being that he thinks he's immortal. he takes chances no matter what to help people because he doesnt value his own life and often forgets what death means. he forgets death is permanent and will always come about. he rushes into battle for ken, but doesnt think twice about himself. if he dies, what would happen to ken? to shinji? to aki? it feels so in character for him to forget about death.

#nero answers #shackle-foes #goro akechi #persona 4 #persona 5 #persona 3 #family au #akishinji #shinjiaki

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ultimate-sword-showdown · 4 months

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Sword Showdown Rematch: Round 1 Bracket

Round 1 will end on Monday, December 18th at 2:00pm PST.

Dragonslayer (Berserk) vs. Flamberge's Sword (Kirby)

Finn Sword (Adventure Time) vs. Crownsblade (Final Fantasy XIV)

Falchion (Fire Emblem) vs. Wavebreaker (Worlds Beyond Number)

Splatana Stamper (Splatoon 3) vs. Butterfly (Dota)

Monado (Xenoblade Chronicles) vs. Boreal (Sword Dancer)

Kendal (Aurora) vs. Audrey's Sword (Wandersong)

Wado Ichimonji (One Piece) vs. Unbreakable Faith (Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint)

Hand of Malenia (Elden Ring) vs. Goblin Slayer (Goblin Slayer)

Excalibur (Soul Eater) vs. Lilarcor (Baldur's Gate)

Oathkeeper and Oblivion (Kingdom Hearts) vs. Soulsword (X-men)

Magolor's Ultra Sword (Kirby's Return to Dreamland: Deluxe) vs. Azakana Blade (League of Legends)

Rivers of Blood (Elden Ring) vs. Ashbringer (World of Warcraft)

Flaming Poisoning Raging Sword of Doom (The Adventure Zone) vs. Katana of Kant (Dungeons and Daddies)

Life Ender (Hollow Knight) vs. Need (Valdemar by Mercedes Lackey)

Roukanken and Hakurouken (Touhou Project) vs. Jolt Sabre (Super Lesbian Animal RPG)

Masamune (Chrono Trigger) vs. Gram (Fate/Grand Order)

Sword of the Creator (Fire Emblem: Three Houses) vs. Sword of Heroes (Kung Fu Panda)

Thunder Edge (Ōkami) vs. Kusabimaru (Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice)

Strom'kar (World of Warcraft) vs. Buster Sword (Final Fantasy VII)

Biggoron Sword (The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time) vs. Cortana (The Shadowhunter Chronicles)

Thousand Demon Daggers (Scissor Seven) vs. Narsil (Lord of the Rings)

Leo's Katanas/Ōdachi (Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles) vs. Jashin Blade (Ultraman Orb)

Sokka's Sword (Avatar: The Last Airbender) vs. Greenhilt Sword (Order of the Stick)

Myrtenaster (RWBY) vs. Wirikidor (The Misenchanted Sword)

Nightblood (Cosmere/Warbreaker) vs. The Blade in the Dark (Friends at the Table: Seasons of Hieron)

Red Scissor Blade (Kill la Kill) vs. Serenade (Dead Cells)

Mayalaran (The Stormlight Archive) vs. Gloom Sword (The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom)

All-Black (Venom) vs. Musou Isshin (Genshin Impact)

Masamune (Final Fantasy VII) vs. Dark Sister (A Song of Ice and Fire)

Chainsword (Warhammer 40k) vs. Blade (Cave Story)

sord.... (Homestuck) vs. Sohothin (Guild Wars 2)

The Four Sword (The Legend of Zelda) vs. Rapier (Dota)

#sword showdown #sword showdown updates #im not doing the brackets in ms paint this time!!!! instead im doing them in canva which is basically exactly the same except that i can ac #actually go in and edit the textboxes after i click out of them which is a lot easier than using digital white-out on them every time i #need to fix something #sword showdown rematch

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sej2020 · 2 years

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You felt the familiar sensation enter the planet long before you saw the young girl. Seeing the gun fire on the roof, you didn’t think. You sprinted as fast as you could to your… home, you couldn’t even call it that. It was a room in a building tricked out with alarms and bogies to protect you while you slept after work at the dive bar down the street. Opening up your hidden safe you built from scratch, you grabbed your familiar weapon, warmth spreading through you, more so when you put on your familiar dark cloak with your hood up.

Without looking back you silently tracked the two life forms to the cargo port, sensing the high sister making her way inside also. Keeping to the shadows you watched, seeing the girl run off and her companion cornered. You launched forward, placing your hand over the man’s mouth and the other over his hand forcing his sabre down.

‘Not yet, let me’ you whispered into the man’s ear.

Seeing the familiarity in the man’s stormyeyes, which you noted had lost some of its sparkle, you let him go, quickly using the force you made some distractions, allowing the man to edge closer to his planned exit. Grabbing onto the man’s cloak you pressed your finger to your lips just as a second set of footsteps entered the area. Quickly you both made your way onto the ship, flying out of the system.

‘Who are you?’ asked the young girl.

‘My names Y/N, it’s a pleasure to meet you, your highness’ you said bowing towards the young girl.

‘How do you know Ben?’ asked Leia.

‘We use to be friends’ you said softly taking down your hood, looking at the man.

‘Oh, are you not friends now?’ asked Leia persisting.

‘I think we are, we just haven’t seen each other for a long time’ you said softly your eyes never leaving the man.

‘I’m going to have a look around you two are acting weird’ said Leia leaving.

‘Wow, she’s just like her mother’ you said with a fond chuckle.

‘You shouldn’t be here, it’s too dangerous’ said Obi Wan.

‘It’s been dangerous since the war, this is hardly different to me hiding in a dive bar’ you commented dryly.

‘Still, you should go on your way, you need to stay hidden away from me’ said Obi Wan turning away.

‘Because of the boy?’ You said making the man turn back to you.

‘How do you know about the boy?’ Asked Obi Wan.

‘I was on Dagobah, Master Yoda is residing there, he told me’ you spoke honestly.

‘That would explain it’ snorted Obi Wan.

‘Hi…. Obi Wan’ you whispered tilting your head, a lonely tear escaping your eye rolling down your cheek.

‘Hi’ whispered Obi Wan brokenly opening his arms to you, embracing you tightly as you both wrapped your arms around each other.

‘I’m so happy to find you alive’ you whispered into the man’s shoulder.

‘Me too… but you have to leave’ said Obi Wan making you pull away sharply.

‘What?’ You said wiping at your eye.

‘You can’t be around me, it’s too dangerous’ said Obi Wan.

‘Obi Wan… I don’t want to go back to being on my own… tell me you don’t want that, and I’ll let you be’ you said fiercely.

‘I can’t’ whispered Obi Wan.

‘You have nightmares too’ you said studying the man properly.

‘I do’ said Obi Wan his body becoming smaller.

‘You know about Vader too’ you said sensing the man’s thoughts.

‘How do you…. You always know’ said Obi Wan curling more into himself.

‘It’s not a gift not really, but finding you, it’s the greatest gift the force has ever given me’ you said. ‘Master Yoda said you might need help, and I want to help you, but you need accept it’

‘I don’t want to be alone’ whispered Obi Wan.

‘Ok, Obi Wan, I’m here’ you said sensing the man’s turmoil.

‘Hi’ said Obi Wan, accepting you back into his arms, slumping into the warmth of your embrace.

‘Oh Obi Wan, times not been kind to you’ you said running your fingers through the man’s hair, feeling the man’s weight fall more and more onto you.

#obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan #obi wan kenobi #obi wan x reader

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clansbeforetime · 7 months

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Character Spotlight: Applestar

Applestar | Former TuskClan Leader | She/Her AMAB | 83 Moons at Death (died 19 moons ago)

Art & Character Bio by relic_crown!

Old Applestar led TuskClan for generations. A stoic, mysterious sabre now remembered for her white mane and thunderous skill in battle, her legacy has aged into a warm fondness for a bygone era. Many of her contemporaries might feel like only they knew the "real" Applestar: though she was never the talkative sort, in one-on-one encounters she displayed a bright sense of humor and charm hidden under her usual solemnity.

Older sabres might also remember a tumultuous beginning to her leadership some seventy moons ago. When the Clan's preferred choice declined the deputy position, a young guardian who had only barely earned the second-place vote, Appledawn, was left to carry the weight of the Clan's future on her shoulders. The young saber vowed to serve her Clan dutifully as she begun her leadership training under Duckstar -- only for disaster to strike barely a season later, when a snake attack killed Duckstar and left Appledawn in line for the leader position at a young age.

A freshly crowned Applestar immediately faced a test in the form of conflict with SunClan. Tense words at Gatherings escalated into scuffles at the borders, then eventually a full-on declaration of war. The resulting struggle was the worst in the living memory of the Boabab Clans, and even cycles later sabres remember lost friends and argue over who was to blame for the war. Certainly Applestar, prickly and brand-new to leadership, didn't help matters -- but the fire of battle gave her the space to prove herself a skilled tactician and, with the support of her batch, an excellent orator.

By the time TuskClan emerged from the other side of the war, Applestar was firmly established in her place at their head. Though she never truly finished learning from Duckstar, the war taught her to lead; for better or for worse it shaped her leadership style throughout the rest of her life. Quiet and militaristic, she took a particular interest in TuskClan's guardians-in-training, always happy to step in and take younger cats under her wing. She made herself into a rock for the Clan to anchor itself to in the many moons of her time as leader.

Applestar's batch, the Butterfly Batch, formed a loose polycule as they aged and settled into roles as senior members of the Clan. In their prime, they were a golden standard of batch harmony: Applestar's success as a leader in her later years may be attributed in part or in full to the support of the other Butterflies. In this time Applestar had a child, who eventually earned the name Greenhowler, and found a close confidante in the form of her deputy Buffalostride.

By the time she died of a strange sickness that spread across the 3 Clans, nineteen months before the start of roleplay, Applestar knew she was leaving TuskClan in safe paws... but even in death, her shadow looms large over the plains.

#clans before time #clansbeforetime #wcrp #discord warrior cat rp #discord warrior cat roleplay #discord wcrp #sabertooth tiger #discord rp #warrior cats #sabertooth cat #new wcrp #open wcrp #tuskclan #character spotlight

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cut-content-contest · 10 months

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Matchups, Round One!

Botsun | beta Alice Yabusame (Your Turn to Die)

playable Zelda (The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword) | Vah Manta (The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild)

life indicator rune | early concepts (The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild)

Termina Ganondorf (The Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask) | Unicorn Fountain (The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time)

cut dungeons (The Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker) | The Legend of Zelda: Mystical Seed of Courage

Yosuke Hanamura romance route (Persona 4) | devil Joker boss fight (Persona 2)

Moonjumper | Timmy (A Hat in Time)

Sand n Sails | Vanessa's manor third floor (A Hat in Time)

distilled emotions (Psychonauts 2) | Li-Po document (Psychonauts)

human woman (Star Fox 2) | Dinosaur Planet (Star Fox Adventures)

Michael Tutori (Wii Music) | fish render (Wii Party)

"like, half the game" (combined with cut levels of Monty Gator Golf) (Five Nights at Freddy's: Security Breach) | coconut.vtf (Team Fortress 2)

F-Stop | Cave Johnson cube (Portal 2)

Czar Dragon (Final Fantasy VI) | musketeer class (Final Fantasy XIV)

room_water_prebird (Undertale) | unused art (Undertale console versions)

twisted sword | everybody weapon (Deltarune)

unused Ralsei battle (Deltarune) | final boss battle backgrounds (Mother 3)

wolf howls | beast boy (Minecraft)

Rana | Steve and Black Steve (Minecraft)

beta Arceus | beta Giratina/Kimairan | ???-type Arceus (Pokémon Diamond/Pearl)

Pokémon Z | Paldean sea and skysphere (Pokémon Scarlet/Violet)

cut beta pokémon (combined with unused baby pokémon) (Pokémon Gold/Silver) | Kotora and Raitora (Pokémon Red/Green and Gold/Silver)

unused trade theme | Mew (Pokémon Red/Green)

Honey the Cat (Sonic the Fighters) | Tiara Boobowski (Sonic Xtreme)

good Cortex (split from Good Cortex and Evil Coco) | evil Coco (Crash Twinsanity)

8 beta colossi (combined with Spider colossus) (Shadow of the Colossus) | "Hot Coffee" minigame (NSFW) (Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas)

backdash | ancient_bench (Hollow Knight)

extended Abyss | Pure Vessel dream nail dialogue (Hollow Knight)

the Aviary | Daylight Prairie invisible boat | early Isle of Dawn (split from the entirety of Sky: Light Awaits) (Sky: Children of the Light)

arms on the player characters (Journey) | Omori keyhole cutscene (OMORI)

original rabbit designs (Splatoon) | octoling backup dancers (Splatoon 2)

Singing Mountain (Chrono Trigger) | multiplayer sabre (Halo: Reach)

Selph/Self | robo NiGHTS (NiGHTS into Dreams)

fur (Wobbledogs) | Ancient Castle Spires (Neopets: The Darkest Faerie)

Dude (Hylics) | FN F2000 (Hot Dogs, Horseshoes, and Hand Grenades)

BomBom (Angry Birds) | Snick the Porcupine (Pizza Tower)

Golden Deer!Ashe (Fire Emblem: Three Houses) | Jagen death scene (Fire Emblem: Shadow Dragon and the Blade of Light)

Laura Cruz (Tomb Raider) | Kale quest (Eldin Ring)

Dragon King: The Fighting Game (Super Smash Bros.) | Melee selected animations (Super Smash Bros. Melee)

Meteor Slime (Slime Rancher) | SNES CD-ROM (Super Nintendo Entertainment System)

the original story (Bayonetta 3) | Kid Kirby

Bionis Shoulder (Xenoblade Chronicles) | pitcher plants (The Elder Scrolls: Oblivion)

Phoenix Wright heart eyes | early concept art (Ace Attorney)

cut character models | docks mission (Dreamfall Chapters)

Musa boss battle (Skeleton Boomerang) | the plot (Ace Combat 03: Electrosphere)

Starbeans café crossover cameos (Mario and Luigi: Superstar Saga) | Bottles's Revenge (Banjo-Tooie)

Shipwreck Cove (MySims Kingdom) | MySims Agents 2

Shockwave (Genshin Impact) | doki17.mp3 (Doki-Doki Literature Club)

Satsuki Rin (Touhou Project: Embodiment of Scarlet Devil) | anti-piracy measures (Higurashi: When They Cry)

elh (Luigi's Mansion) | Tramplin' Stu (Super Mario Sunshine)

cats (Super Paper Mario Korean version) | dragonhead flower (Super Mario Galaxy)

#cut content contest #contest info

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feely-touchy · 3 months

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Carrie was whitetail deer jumpy

Wincing when even the good good happened

Watched her life spiral

Bouncing like a hotwheel in a laundromat

Too many times to count sober

She didn't even notice when she walked around in circles

Talked around in circles

Walked around in circles

Flinched at her own shadow

Smoked the ouroboros

Burned her days from both ends

Watching her dreams roll up like smog

You could hear them in her coughs

Still stuck in some part of her lungs

Her hope was blackened by depression and compression

Like diamonds and coal but not enough

Compartmentalized and cheated on

She held a long lost love

Died out at sea

A sinking memory

Tugging on it sometimes as if it were hooked by the gills

Feeling the blood as it spills

Cheapened by cheap swill

Always enough to make her sick

But not enough to quit

So the worst's somehow seemingly yet to come

She makes sure of that

Like a sword swallower stomaching a sabre set on fire

Her bellyaching is unimaginable

She makes confidants of liars

Anyone who could tell her it gets better than this

"Just don't change anything"

But she is dancing madly in her blood circle

Playing her music so loudly she can't hear

Seeking comfort in the shadows of bad men

Anything she can be eclipsed within

Still, I believe in her

One day she will be okay

Even if it's a long and fraught journey

#poetry

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hanzajesthanza · 1 year

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what does milva look like?

since my post about geralt was so popular, i thought to make this a kind of series of posts, because i also realized how helpful they can be when trying to draw or write the characters...

and instead of complaining that depictions of characters are not books-accurate, i could actually do something to actually help😅

physical description

she is tall and lithe, muscular... apologies for putting this passage upon you immediately, but it is a thorough description of her, and i've redacted the annoying bits.

Baptism of Fire, Ch. 2: “(...) Slender and graceful, she walks as if she's dancing. A bit too narrow in the hips for my taste, and her shoulders are a little broad, but still feminine, ah yes feminine (...)” “Shut up, Dandelion.” “On the road,” the dreaming poet continued, “I happened to touch her by accident. Her thighs, I tell you, they are like marble.”

by the way, dandelion mentions she's wearing a shirt here, but i don't like the context in which he says it, but just know she's wearing a shirt.

when she shoots, her skill and strength is striking and beautiful:

Baptism of Fire, Ch. 1: For a few heartbeats Milva stood motionless, like a marble statue of a petrified goddess in the forest. Only when all the noises had subsided, she removed her right hand from her left cheek, lowering the bow. Noting the escape route of the animal in the corner of her memory, she sat quietly, propping her back against the trunk. She was an experienced hunter, she had trotted in from the woods since childhood, having shot her first deer at eleven, and a fourteenhorns stag - an extremely happy hunting omen - on her fourteenth birthday. But experience had taught her that pursuit of a wounded animal was pointless.

Lady of the Lake, Ch. 9: ‘Run for it! We have to!’ ‘No!’ screamed Milva, standing up with bow in hand. She straightened up, assumed a shooting position; a veritable statue, a marble Amazon with a bow. The marksmen on the gallery yelled.

an important detail is that when she shoots, she always brings the arrow to the same point:

Baptism of Fire, Ch. 2: Maria Barring, nicknamed Milva, stretched her bow. She measured, calmly, with the chord pressed to her face. (...) Milva wiped her face splashed with rain, in which you could still see the imprint of the chord. Although she fired several times, there was only one mark – the string was always placed at exactly the same position.

spoilers | her miscarriage occurs when she was ten weeks pregnant, meaning she was in the first trimester of pregnancy and was not 'showing' the pregnancy yet. kind of obvious because the plot point is that she hid the pregnancy from the rest of the company, but i felt like i should include this detail anyways:

Baptism of Fire, Ch. 7: ‘In which month?’ ‘She refused, fairly impolitely, to give me a date, including the date of her last menstrual cycle. But I know this. This will be the tenth week.’

as for her age, she is an adult, but not as young as someone like angouleme, who is approximately eighteen or nineteen. this description of the company contrasts the two. likely, she's in her late 20s or early 30s.

Lady of the Lake Ch. 9: One had hair as white as snow, and the sword in his hand flashed like lightning. Another was a fair-haired woman, bending a bow as she rode. The third rider, quite a young woman, carved open Zadarlik’s temple with a sweeping blow of a curved sabre.

her hair

her hair is tawny or dark blonde. unfortunately this is mistranslated in the english translations as "flaxen" or "flaxenhaired" which is mildly inaccurate, as flaxen suggests a light yellow blonde.

the word used in polish is płowy, like a pale brown color tinted with yellow. like, tawny, fawny, i guess? dark blonde is a catch-all... she's a type of blonde, but not flaxen blonde or the golden color typically associated with blonde hair.

Baptism of Fire, Ch. 1: A long time passed as they walked through the woods cloaked in shadow, the tall silver haired dryad and the girl with flaxen (płowy) hair. Neither interrupted the silence.

she typically has a long braid, but when unbraided, her hair is long to her shoulders (in this scene, she has just bathed and changed clothes before speaking to geralt):

Baptism of Fire, Ch. 1: However, she obeyed the summons, convinced that it was some elf being treated who wanted contact with his detachment through her. When she saw the wounded witcher and found out what he wanted, she flew into a veritable frenzy, running out of the cave with her hair wild and unloaded all of her anger onto Aglaïs.

Baptism of Fire, Ch. 1: “Forgive me.” he said after a moment. “You're right. I exposed you. It was too dangerous a job for …” “For a woman, yes?” She tossed her head, and threw back her hair which was still damp. (...) She wiped the sweat from her brow, and gestured at the dryads who came. She seized the witcher, who was still seated, by the shoulders and leaned over him so that her long blond hair fell on his pale face.

Baptism of Fire, Ch. 5: Milva will lead you through the woods… What is it?’ ‘Nothing.’ Milva brushed her hair from her shoulders. ‘Nothing. Speak, witcher. I want to know what else you have to say.’

Baptism of Fire, Ch. 7: And disgusting aberrations shall be handed down as myths. For sociological purposes.’ ‘ I understand shit all of this,’ Milva said calmly, brushing aside hair from her forehead with the shaft of an arrow.

in mid-september of 1267, after geralt's company crossed the yaruga on september 10th, during the time in which they were in riverdell, she cuts her hair at the nape of her neck...

Tower of the Swallow, Ch. 3: The archer regained her physical capacity soon – with the psychological it looked worse. She would not say a word for whole days, from morning to night. She would gladly disappear and hold herself apart, which started to worry everyone a little. But at last came the change for the better. Milva reacted like a Dryad or an elf – violent, impulsive and hard to understand. One morning, before our eyes, she pulled out her knife and, without a word, cut off the braid at the nape of her neck. ‘I do not deserve this, because I’m not a virgin,’ she said when she saw us watching open-mouthed. ‘And also not a widow,’ she added, ‘this concludes my mourning.’ From that moment on she was like before – harsh, caustic, with a loose tongue and with quick access to words not socially acceptable.

Tower of the Swallow, Ch. 5: ‘You’re going to make jokes on the scaffold, Angouleme. Which is fine with me. Who is Geralt travelling with?’ ‘I have already told you this also! With a pretty boy named Dandelion, a troubadour who has a lute. With a young woman who has dark blond hair, worn in a braid that is cut at the neck. I do not know their names. And with a man without a description, his name likewise was not described. Altogether there are four.’

Tower of the Swallow, Ch. 5: (...) ‘We are five, not four,’ he [Regis] quickly summarized after Geralt had finished his story. ‘We have been five since the end of August, and five crossed the Yaruga. Milva only cut off her braid in the river country. Only one week ago.* Your blond protégé knew of Milva’s cut braid. But did not count five. Strange.’

* a note on the exact timing of when she cuts her braid: the company crosses the yaruga on the 10th of september. they arrive in riedbrune on the 17th of september, and it's stated that they spent five days travelling with the beekeepers, so they began to travel with the beekeepers on the 12th of september. this conversation between regis and geralt occurs directly after they adopt angouleme into the company. the fight between geralt and cahir occurs on the 23th of september (the equinox). thus "one week ago" likely means something like the 11th or 12th of september? so before this, during august and during baptism of fire, she has a braid, but after this, around the time they were travelling in riverdell, during tower of the swallow and lady of the lake, she has cut, short hair.

her outfit, clothing, accessories

she wears practical wear, ... i.e., pants:

Baptism of Fire, Ch 7: Milva was the last, for her movement suddenly became frighteningly slow. She was hit with a bolt, thought the witcher seeing the girl drag herself overboard with effort, and then fall limp onto the sand. He jumped towards her, but the vampire was faster. ‘Something has torn in me,’ she said very slowly. Her hands were pressed to her lower abdomen. Geralt saw the legs of her wool trousers darken with blood.

her outfit is not described thoroughly, but something interesting to me is that zoltan says she looks too much like a member of the scoia'tael to approach human cottages. this is just my imagination, but perhaps it has to do with her style of dress, certain patterns, or maybe it's just the fact that she's tall, graceful, and has a bow.

Baptism of Fire, Ch. 2: “I will go.” Milva declared. “No,” protested the dwarf. “You look too much like a Squirrel. If they see you, they may be frightened and humans tend to be unpredictable when they're scared. Yazon and Caleb will go. As for you, keep your bow ready to shoot, to cover them if need be. Percival will be ready to warn the others. Stay alert, in case we need to retreat.”

cahir also confuses her for an elf when he hasn't yet seen her up close:

Baptism of Fire, Ch. 5: Then the rider, with slow movements, drew from his belt an arrow with long feathered fletching and threw it at Milva’s feet. ‘I knew,’ he said calmly, ‘I would get the chance to give you back your arrow, elf.’ ‘I’m not an elf, Nilfgaardian.’ ‘I’m not a Nilfgaardian. So put down the bow. If I wished you any evil, I would have let those peasants beat you.’ ‘The devil knows who you are,’ she said, ‘but thank you for the help. And my arrow. And for the evil bastard I kicked.’

perhaps it's something to do with pattern and cut of her outfit, as described earlier in the book:

Baptism of Fire, Ch. 2: Geralt was not surprised by the mistake. He and Dandelion were wrapped in gray cloaks that had belonged to elves. He himself wore a doublet given to him by the Dryads, patterned with the leafy motifs favored by elves, his face was partially covered by his hood and he was sitting on a horse with reins that were typically elven and characteristically decorated.

she's mentioned to have a silk scarf which she gives to geralt to disguise him as he rides to belhaven with angouleme and cahir:

Tower of the Swallow, Ch. 5: He carefully wriggled Milva’s silk scarf around his head. He jammed on Regis’ hat. Once again, he checked the position of sihill on his back and the two stilettos in his boots.

another accessory she has is a fox-fur kalpak she wears when they departed beauclair to ride south:

Lady of the Lake, Ch. 7: ‘Moufflon yourself!’ yelled Angoulême. ‘When I say a horse, I mean a horse!’ Milva, as usual, preferred practice to theory. She dismounted and bent over, pushing her fox-fur kalpak back on her head. ‘The brat’s right,’ she decided after moment. ‘It’s a horse. I think it’s even shod, but it’s hard to say, the blizzard has covered the tracks. It rode over there, into that ravine.’

she also has a broad leather belt (this will be a surprise tool which will help us later...):

Tower of the Swallow, Ch. 5: And suddenly they parted, rolling away in different directions, hands curled above their heads to protect themselves against the whistling blows raining down on them. Milva had removed the wide leather belt from her hips and wrapped the buckle once around her hand. She ran to the fighters and began to beat them with all her strength, sparing neither her arm nor the belt.

her shoes, or boots are laced in baptism of fire, and she also wears boots when at a casual breakfast in beauclair:

Baptism of Fire, Ch 1: “Please tell me. Did you learn anything?” “Yes I did.” she snorted, unlacing and removing her soaked shoes. “With little difficulty, because she seems to have caused quite a stir. You had not mentioned that this young lady was so important! I thought she must be your stepdaughter, she must be one of those poor little unfortunate and abused orphans. And here we have the princess of Cintra! Ha! And perhaps you are too a prince in disguise?”

Lady of the Lake, Ch. 4: The hens, the black and the speckled one, had become audacious enough to begin pecking at Milva’s boots. The archer drove them away with a brisk kick (...)

her gear

she has a belt with a pouch and a bone-handled hunting knife:

Baptism of Fire, Ch 1: “No?” The dispassionate voice of the healer snatched her away from her thoughts, “How will it be then? What should I tell him?” “Let him go to the Devil.” Milva growled, tugging at her belt from which hung a pouch and a hunting knife, “And you too can go to the devil, Aglaïs.”

later, on september 25th, at the parting of the hanza, she gives this knife to angouleme (which comes in handy later during the two fights they find themselves in):

Tower of the Swallow, Ch. 5: Nearby, Cahir sharpened his long Nilfgaardian sword. Angouleme wrapped a woollen band around her forehead and stuck a hunting knife stuck in her boot – a gift from Milva. The archer and Regis saddled their horses. The vampire had left his black horse to Angouleme, upgrading her from the mule Draakul.

Tower of the Swallow, Ch. 6: The witcher dodged the blow with a half spin and hit him just below the temple. Even before Novosad fell, Angouleme made a throwing motion – a knife whizzed through the air and the attacking Yirrel staggered, a bone handle jutting out from under his chin. The bandit dropped his sword and tore the knife out with both hands. Blood poured from his throat as Angouleme jumped up and kicked him in the chest, knocking him to the ground. (...) One of the men holding Geralt was killed. And one of those who held Angouleme. The girl broke away from the other, quickly drew a knife from her boot, and cut with a sweeping motion. In her haste she missed Nightingale’s throat, but made a pretty slit on his cheek, almost to the teeth. Nightingale cried instead of croaking, and his eyes almost bulged out of his head. He sank to his knees as blood gushed between the hands with which he held his face.

she also has a leather brace on her left forearm and a quiver of arrows on her thigh:

Baptism of Fire, Ch. 1: Milva adjusted the worn to a shine leather protector on her left forearm, held together with a bunch of grips attached to a loop. She plunged a hand into the quiver on her thigh.

the most interesting part, her bow:

Baptism of Fire, Ch. 1: But she had finally found such a bow. This was of course in the Cidaris Seaside Bazaar (...)The bow came from the far North. It had a wingspan of sixty-two inches. It was crafted from mahogany, had a perfectly poised grip and a smooth neck with laminated layers of woven wood, whale bones and tendons. (...) The arch had an incredible lightness and was accurate to perfection. Although not too long, hiding in the composite entwined a considerable distance of wire. Equipped with silk-hemp string and velvet accurately stretched over the protruding handles twenty-four inches, to give the tension precisely fifty-five pounds of power. True, there were arches which gave even eighty, but Milva considered this to be an exaggeration. Fired from her bow, an arrow penetrated two hundred feet within a heartbeat, and at a hundred paces had more than enough momentum to effectively strike a deer and a man if he wore no armor, pierced through. Milva rarely hunted animals larger than deer, or men in heavy armor.

and the arrows she uses, grey-feathered and spiral-fletched herself, with four blades:

Baptism of Fire, Ch. 1: Instinctively, out of habit she inspected the blade tip and fletching. The blades were bought from market – she chose on average just one out of ten offered to her - but she always feathered the arrows herself. With most commercially available ready-made arrows, the feathers were too short and arranged directly over the pole, while Milva applied hers to fin in a spiral, lying no shorter than five inches.

Baptism of Fire, Ch. 1: She ran quickly to the slope of the hill, searching intently through the brambles, moss and ferns. She was looking for her arrow. Equipped with a four-bezelled tip, so sharp that it shaved the hair on her forearm, launched from a distance of fifty yards, it would have pierced the deer right through.

Baptism of Fire, Ch. 2: The rider didn't manage to say anything more. An arrow with gray feathers hit him in the centre of the chest and he dropped from the saddle. Before he fell to the ground, Geralt already heard the whistle of a second arrow. The tip hit the other soldier in the abdomen, low, right between his fingers that were holding his fly. He howled like an animal, bent in half and fell back over the fence, knocking over and breaking the poles.

later happenings and outfits

her ribs are broken by the druids during their meeting in caed myrkvid in early october:

Tower of the Swallow Ch. 7: In the next instant they hung in the air, surrounded by branches and shouting at the top of their lungs. (...) Milva just grunted. Her head dropped to her chest. Geralt cursed outrageously. It was all he could do. (...) ‘I think she has a broken rib,’ she said, looking down at Milva. ‘But I have a cure. I will give it to her to aid in healing. I regret what has happened. But how was I to know who you were? (...)’

at beauclair in october through january, she had some different outfits depending on the situation:

Lady of the Lake, Ch. 3: ‘It turned out that Milva was well,’ said the Witcher pensively, ‘although she still had a bandage around her ribs. She remained in her chamber, though, and refused to leave, not wanting at any cost to put on the dress she’d been presented with. It looked as though there would be a protocolary scandal, but the omniscient Regis pacified the situation. After quoting a good dozen precedents he made the chamberlain bring a male outfit to the archer. Angoulême, for a change, joyfully discarded her trousers, riding boots and footwraps, and soap, a dress and a comb turned her into quite a pretty lass. All of us, let’s face it, were cheered up by the bathhouse and the clean clothes. Even me. We set off for the audience in a very decent mood—’ (...) ‘The famous succubus,’ remarked Reynart, serving himself more cabbage, ‘began the memorable series of witcher contracts that you took on in Toussaint. Then things speeded up and you couldn’t keep the customers away. Funny, I don’t remember which vineyard gave you the first contract …’ ‘You weren’t present. It happened the day after the audience with the duchess.’ ‘No wonder. It was a private audience.’ ‘Private, huh,’ snorted Geralt. ‘It was attended by some twenty people (...) And there were we, our entire gang, including Milva in male costume.’

later, at the october banquet, she does wear a dress, however:

Lady of the Lake Ch. 3: ‘The great and grandiosely heralded feast,’ began Geralt, ‘was preceded by serious preparations. We had to find Milva, who’d hidden in the stables, and convince her that the fate of Ciri and almost the entire world depended on her participation in the banquet. We almost had to force her into a dress. Then we had to make Angoulême promise she would avoid saying “fuck” and “ass”.

horse

in baptism of fire, she rides a black horse:

Baptism of Fire, Ch. 1: The witcher stood up. “Will the elves give me a horse?” He repeated. “Take whichever one you want.” she said after a moment. “Just make sure they do not see you. The mercenaries attacked us on the crossing, it was bloody … Oh and do not touch the black one, that one is mine … Why are you still standing here?”

Baptism of Fire, Ch. 4: ‘You speak the truth,’ the old peasant said. ‘We must finish the task, because time is running out. Give us the horse. The black one. We need it to find the vampire. Take down the child from the saddle, woman.’ Milva, who during the entire conversation was staring impassively at the clouds, slowly looked down at the peasant, her features sharpened dangerously. ‘Are you talking to me, pig?’ ‘Of course you. Give us the black horse, we need it.’ Milva wiped her sweaty neck and clenched her teeth. The look in her tired eyes became that of a wolf.

however this horse dies along with the rest of the company's horses during the battle of the bridge:

Tower of the Swallow, Ch. 3: Apart from Milva’s tragic accident and the numerous injuries and wounds Geralt and Cahir had sustained, all of our horses had been killed or maimed in the battle – excepting my trusty Pegasus and the wayward Roach, the mare of the witcher.

tldr:

hair: dark blonde, fawny-colored. long and often braided before mid-september, at which she cuts the braid at the nape of her neck.

eye color: not described!

age: adult, age not described, likely late 20s to early 30s

build: tall, slim, muscular. slim hips, broad shoulders.

clothing: generally, practical wear. a shirt with sleeves (she rolls up her sleeves to butcher her kill in baptism of fire ch. 1). she also wears woolen leggings. she has a strong preference for wearing "male costume", i.e., no dresses unless she's forced into it.

gear: a wide leather belt, a bone-handle hunting knife which she gives to angouleme on september 25th, a leather bracer worn to a shine worn on her left forearm, a quiver worn on her hip, a 62-inch mahogany bow. her arrows are grey-feathered, spiral-fletched, and the blades are bought from market so it likely varies but she is described as using four-bladed arrowheads.

occassional accessories: a silk scarf, a fox-fur kalpak.

rides a black horse during july and august.

#character descriptions in the books #milva #milva barring #the witcher books #c: milva #excerpt #using some dubious fan translations bc im too lazy to transcribe from the physical books #i actually couldnt find anything abt her wearing a braid in baptism of fire and thought i had lost my mind #it's mentioned in ttos though so it's not like it never happened lol

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roxannarambles · 1 year

Text

I forgot I was going to post this. When I posted that Nemona x Juliana story a while back, I wrote the full specs for the fictional Paradox pokemon I made. Click the read more if it interests you (spoilers for the fic, of course)

It's an ancient version of Meowscarada, except it's a quadrupedal Sabre Tooth Tiger sort of thing, with toxic thorns for teeth.

I gave it a signature move that would take advantage of Strong Jaw. This is assuming the Paradox pokes will eventually get hidden abilities.

SABRE THORNS

Types: Grass/Poison

Ability: Protosynthesis

Hidden Ability: Strong Jaw

Stats:

HP: 100

Attack: 130

Special Attack: 70

Defense: 70

Special Defense: 70

Speed: 130

BST Total: 570

Learnset:

LVL 1: Scratch/Leafage/Growl

LVL 7: Poison Fang

LVL 10: Hone Claws

LVL 13: Bite

LVL 15: Noble Roar

LVL 20: Crunch

LVL 24: Screech

LVL 29: Seed Bomb

LVL 33: Toxic

LVL 38: Night Slash

LVL 42: Taunt

LVL 47: Swords Dance

LVL 52: Dire Claw

LVL 58: Play Rough

LVL 64: Thorn Fangs (Type: Grass, Base Power: 95, Secondary Effect: 50% chance to badly poison)

TM Moves:

Normal: Take Down, Protect, Facade, Swift, Endure, Sleep Talk, Substitute, Giga Impact, Hyper Beam, Helping Hand, Endure, Tera Blast, Scary Face, False Swipe, Swords Dance

Grass: Trailblaze, Magical Leaf, Seed Bomb, Grass Knot, Magical Leaf, Bullet Seed, Giga Drain, Energy Ball, Solar Beam, Grassy Terrrain, Leaf Storm

Poison: Toxic, Venoshock, Sudge Bomb, Poison Jab, Gunk Shot

Bug: Pollen Puff, Pounce

Dark: Thief, Foul Play, Snarl, Fling, Taunt, Night Slash

Electric: Thunder Fang

Fairy: Play Rough

Fire: Fire Fang

Flying: Acrobatics

Ghost: Shadow Claw

Ice: Ice Fang

Psychic: Rest

Rock: Ancient Power, Rock Tomb

Steel: Metal Claw

#pokemon #fakemon #pokemon scarlet/violet #pokemon s/v #pokemon scarvio #fanfic #nemona x juliana

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phageinoculum · 11 months

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pthumerian oc :D they came to me while half asleep one time.

here's a bit of fanfic go with

Armed with a sabre, Ysidra dashed forward, slicing another writhing ball of snakes into little wriggling pieces. There were so many in these dark woods, and so many other creatures with parasitic snakes burrowing inside of them. Bursting outward like bloody streamers from bodies that don’t yet know they’re dead. Were there any normal snakes in these woods anymore? Normal snakes, infected with smaller snakes?

It seemed worse at night. Pthumerians were accustomed to the dark, but perhaps this was a bad idea.

Ysidra was tired, and so alone. This… curse would be a fascinating subject of study, if they perhaps had some help. A lone Shadow of Yharnam was still quite the fighter, but….

Ysidra wasn’t sure they could even call themselves a Shadow anymore, actually. But, they were a scholar. Always a scholar.

Ysidra’s primary interest had always been the eldritch, the Great Ones… and so many secrets were revealed to Ysidra’s fellow pthumerians. What had the humans found?

Perhaps not as much, but Ysidra had to know their perspective, simply out of curiosity.

Another tangled ball of snakes struggled forward, eager to kill despite the difficulty of its existence. It must have been part of the curse. Natural snakes were quite shy creatures. Smaller balls of serpents followed the larger one’s lead.

Ysidra had swapped to their shotgun, hoping to catch all of them in the blast. To conserve ammo, they finished with several swings of their blade.

So tired.

Ysidra was startled by a burst of flame passing right behind them. A gigantic snake ball, encrusted with ticks, burned to nothing in an instant by what appeared to be a flaming sickle. It was unnerving how much taller pthumerians managed to sneak so well.

“Elder… ?”

Ysidra recognized this Pthumerian Elder, despite having done away with his royal garb, now dressed in a plain dark robe. He lowered his staff, still smoldering at the tip. It was looking quite worn. He probably would have quite a lot of trouble acquiring another, the way things were now. Ysidra's shotgun was human-made, but there was nothing quite like their sabre up here.

“...Ysidra, yes?” He said, tilting his head. “You are sane?”

“I like to think so,” Ysidra said quietly.

They traveled together for a short time in silence. The two of them had been vaguely aware of each other, as two high ranking individuals, but never had reason to interact before. Though, Elders were held in higher regard than Shadows. Even here and now, Ysidra couldn't help but feel intimidated.

The two came across what appeared to be a safe enough clearing, with no recent signs of activity, snake or otherwise. The Elder– Eldrid– started a camp fire. Ysidra found his name and title combined quietly amusing, not that they would ever tell him this. Surely, he knew. It wasn’t the same in their native tongue, of course.

Ysidra had learned to read in multiple human and pthumerian languages. Eldrid spoke quite good Yharnamite, as many Elders did. Ysidra would have liked to practice speaking out loud, but… no, the two spoke in Pthumerian. Ysidra did not even bring the idea up.

The two of them shared what rations they had, mostly nuts, berries… the tick-infested snakes might be tempting, but Eldrid did not know how the parasites were transmitted, either. Perhaps they didn’t even have to be transmitted in any logical way.

“I could not remain below with the others,” Eldrid was saying. “To succumb to madness, to rot away protecting uncaring gods and a dead civilization.”

“It’s not dead,” Ysidra said, though not convincingly. “We’re still here.”

Eldrid sneered at that. Yes. Still here, in all their glory. Mad, zombie-like… scattered.

“And you have seen what they’ve done to our people in the human city, yes? But… I must return there," he said, clenching his staff. "I tire of scrounging for tiny morsels in the wilderness, like an animal.”

“To… Yharnam,” Ysidra said. “I had always wondered why would they name their city… Yharnam.” Eldrid had no answer for that. Ysidra then said, “so, we are moving in opposite directions. I seek the human college ...Byrgenwerth,” they said, obviously uncertain of the pronunciation. Eldrid was no help there, either.

“To study their works on Great Ones, yes?” Eldrid said. He and Ysidra did not know each other well, but Ysidra did develop a bit of a reputation for this interest. “You could have studied one up close. Yet, you are here, seeking scraps of knowledge from the humans?”

“Yes,” Ysidra said. They did not want to get into the reasons why with him. He wouldn't understand. “And… yes… I could have gone with the others. It was an amazing opportunity to study an infant Great One up close… but, knowing what I do, I was… also afraid. So I hesitated… and then… I was alone.”

Ysidra’s eyes stayed locked on the crackling fire, hands clenched in their black robes. Eldrid said nothing.

They were exhausted– both of them. The two lay on opposite sides of the crackling fire among the cold leaves and dirt.

-------

Ysidra took a sip of their now tepid cocoa. The Byrgenwerth library was chilly tonight, and Ysidra’s black robes were thin and worn. Cold wind and… other things howled through the cursed woods outside.

They were tempted to use up a precious fire paper, but if a fire was to catch among these valuable books, their research, Ysidra couldn’t forgive themself. Too bad they couldn’t quite get the hang of pyromancy, like some of their old companions. A real pyromancer would have no trouble reigning in a wild flame.

Then came the sound of many footsteps nearby… right here, in the library. Pulling their hood back slightly, they saw nothing but the rows of bookshelves surrounding this corner. But, whatever it was seemed to be wandering closer.

As quietly as possible, Ysidra began packing away important books and notes in their bag.

The crash of a snapping branch from outside startled them. Ysidra rose up, their chair making an awfully loud noise as it scraped the floor. There was a silent cursing as their hand hovered over the hilt of their sabre, the other hand swiftly slinging their bag over their shoulder.

Now, sudden quiet… other than the branches rustling in the wind outside.

The insectoid face appeared from behind the shelves, antennae wriggling curiously. Ysidra was spotted, and was immediately charged at. They aimed their sabre forward as the creature attacked, for it to stupidly impale itself on.

One garden of eyes, Ysidra could handle. Two, perhaps, yes. There was a group of five in the library that soon made themselves known. Ysidra hated to risk damaging the books, but pulling out the shotgun seemed to be the best method of escape. The blast kept the things stunned long enough for Ysidra to slip by and start running.

It was time to leave the building, they supposed. These maddened creatures didn’t like the poor weather any better than Ysidra did. They kept to the shadows, slinking past the gigantic bugs roaming on hundreds of legs, as well as the smaller ones on two.

Ah, away from the bugs, and into the coils of gigantic or parasitic snakes. Ysidra scratched at their arm nervously, constantly aware of the risk they took staying in these cursed woods. A reminder, and a warning, mindlessly patrolled the graveyard of a Great One. With a heavy heart, they watched what may have once been companions from the safety of the trees.

Little forked tongues occasionally slipped from the Shadows’ dark hoods… and from their torsos, and arms. That could be Ysidra, one day, if they stayed here too long. They slipped past the patrol without notice.

The cabin they had taken over was relatively safe. At least, they liked to think so. However, the door was ajar and rattling in the wind, and Ysidra was certain of having shut it tightly.

The pesky hunter froze in place once he felt the shotgun planted against his head. He gently placed the vials he had stolen back into the drawer he had been rummaging through, then raised his hands.

“Smart hunter,” Ysidra said, tongue unused to speaking human language out loud, having learned it exclusively from books.

“You sound like a reasonably sane… person?” the hunter said, unwilling to risk twisting his head to see who was currently threatening him. He seemed cheery, despite the circumstances.

Ysidra ignored that. “Get out.”

“Listen,” the hunter said, “I’m running low on blood. I just need a few vials. I’m sure I can kill them this time.”

“Them?” Ysidra said, shotgun held unwaveringly.

The hunter gestured wildly, “Them! Those… the blokes in the graveyard. I’m not sure what they are. But, whatever they were, they’re just snakes in hoods now.”

Ysidra slumped, shotgun lowering. “Yes… snakes in hoods. You will… end their suffering?”

“They’re suffering?” the hunter laughed. He finally turned, giving Ysidra a bright smile. “Well, there’s no shortage of suffering around here, that’s for certain.”

Ysidra looked away. These were the last of Ysidra's emergency stash, but…

"Take the vials, hunter. And go.”

The hunter offered a hand. “You look like a fighter. Help me out? Three on one is a bit rough. And I do like it rough, but…” he gestured, indicating their surroundings.

Ysidra’s hands stayed where they were. “No. Sorry."

“Do you want them dead or not?” The hunter said. He looked Ysidra over– their dark robes, sabre at their side. Gaunt pthumerian features were vaguely visible under the hood. He crossed his arms, tilted his head. “Were they friends of yours?”

“They could have been,” Ysidra said. “Please. Just go. Do what you must.”

The hunter nodded, took the vials, then began out the door.

“Thanks,” the hunter said, briefly holding up the blood vials before vanishing into the woods. Ysidra said nothing. They shut the door and leaned against it.

Then, there was only the sound of wind through the leaves.

#bloodborne #shadow of yharnam #pthumerian #oc ysidra #art #fanart #i going to put this on ao3 i'm just... thinking. it's not the whole fanfic here i'm just going to leave it at that lmao

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quydanduong · 1 year

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Shadow and divine mediums

Mediums are spiritual masters who are able to invite the spiritual non-human, gods or ghosts, to inhabit their body and use it as theirs for a limited time. This is called “serving”. Mediums who serve ghosts/beasts/the unholy are bóng, or shadow mediums. Mediums who serve gods/deities/the holy are đồng, or divine mediums.

Đồng vệ and đồng cúng (roughly translate to “protector medium” and “ceremony medium”) are the most commonly seen divine mediums. Đồng vệ are mediums that serve deities to defeat ghosts and demons, while đồng cúng perform ceremonies and serve deities for other purposes, such as predicting fortunes, tragedies, praying for rain, or asking for guidance.

Ông nhập or bà nhập (roughly translate to “possessing mister” and “possessing missus”) are one of the few type of shadow mediums left. They primarily serve spirits of those recently passed away, for their family and loved ones. They tie red ropes around their neck, wrists and ankles as a sign of restraint of power, preventing the spirit from overtaking and losing to them completely.

Mân or mân thầy (roughly translate to “monk of doors”) is a school of mediums diverges from monks, who center their practice around names. They keep their name a secret, and call on their enemies' names to subdue them in the fight. Their primary magic are related to fire.

Thầy Chàm (roughly translate to “master of indigo”) are Pác Chang people's divine medium. They wear 9 braids made of their community's wishing fabric strips, which they believe is a sign for their devotion. They use weapons that come in pairs (pair of candles, pair of sabres).

Ho Mo (roughly translate to “witch doctor of the Ho”) are the Ho's divine medium, they borrow their strength from holy beasts, and often worship mountain gods like Sơn Tinh. They wear a string of animal fangs or horns (which must have fallen off naturally or taken after the animal's natural death) on their waist, each representing the holy beast they serve.

Tùm are the Dìu's divine medium. They wear a colorful embroidered robe, and often carry with them an embroidered portrait of their deity. In the period of their serviance, they must protect the portrait well. If the portrait is harmed, the connection with their deity may be severed.

Tảo are the Dìu's shadow medium. Unlike other mediums, they do not talk nor move much during their time of serviance. Tảo wear an overlong blank paper robe, on which they will draw what the served wants to convey, while having their eyes closed the entire time. This is a spiritual technique that translates the thoughts or memories of the spirit to paper. The drawings are very beautiful, but they must be burned before the change of day.

#qdd world #qdd world people

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oldnwise · 1 year

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Not sure what I could with this snippet of an obi-vader idea, sparked by earlier stuff written not long after the OWK series. But it sure was fun to explore:

He had not expected that Vader would be there so soon or that he would land with the Stormtroopers, smashing down the main door as if it were paper, leading an advance into the main cave and pushing everyone back. Bodies in white armour and bodies in cloth littered the passageway. It was carnage.

Obi-Wan struggled just to keep his feet and fend off the waves of blaster fire. Backing up, stumbling one step at a time, he knew there was little chance of survival for any of them. His grasp on the Force was only just starting to strengthen. Against the stormtroopers he might have found a way but with Vader there as well…

Hopeless distress swirled up in his gut as his hands, sticky with sweat, grasped the hilt of his ‘sabre. All those who looked to him for saving would die – were dying as he sensed each life being snuffed out around him. And Leia would die.

And as he thought of that he caught sight of a small familiar shape dart out fearlessly from the vent on the wall and clamber down the ladder. A stormtrooper turned towards her, raising the blaster and Obi-Wan lost control. He shouted her name and charged towards her, grabbed her and spun around and sliced the trooper in half with a shout of panicked anger.

Rage, furious and hot, overcame the fear and heated his body, burning away his tenuous emotional control. He was tired, hurting, his chest a ball of dread that he could do nothing to save the child, that he’d fail her, fail all of them, as he had failed Anakin. Too many mistakes, how many more can I make?

The last time he’d tasted that hot bitterness at the back of his throat it had been when he’d seen his Master die at Darth Maul’s hands. It was that same sense of alien energy and he was just too weak to deny it anymore. What did it matter if he fell? There was no-one in his life to regret his choices. So he accepted it, letting himself change from one thing to another.

His senses became acute. Eyes that had lost so much of their focus became sharp, aware of every small detail across the entire shadowed vault. Sound defined action, choked breathing audible as if it was a shout, the atmosphere a sea of living movement that he could so easily anticipate. He could smell the spilled blood, the actinic stink of blaster fire vaporizing particles of air, even his own perspiration. His age, his lack of fitness, the weary stretch of muscles and joints meant nothing, buoyed as was on that unspeakable energy. Movement slowed to a crawl as if he had time and enough to reshape his world, each second triggering responses in one fluid motion. And his entire body sang with the power, ringing like a bell as he moved with a speed and agility he’d never known.

His awareness was splintered. He could feel Leia’s little body held firmly to his chest, her heart beating madly as she clung to him. The attacking forces seemed to move at a crawl as he flew from one to the other, killing and killing with perfectly controlled lightsaber arcs of blue-white death. A Master Jedi, he drew on the Dark for power even as his expertise in the Light gave him perfect skill and he was unstoppable.

Almost unstoppable. He was pulled out of hypersensitivity by a living black hole that sucked in light and bled the Dark. Obi-Wan recognised it, knew it with an immediate intimacy. Anakin.

Darth Vader, Anakin, one and the same. And he was being pulled towards that source of power like iron to a magnet. Even as he took a step forward, his eyes narrowed and he spoke through jaws stiff with passion.

“I will not…let you…harm her.” His throat was torn raw flesh and he spat out red spittle with each ground-out syllable.

"I’ve no intention of harming her. Or you. Unless you defy me."

It wasn’t Vader mechanical voice. Somehow, it was Anakin’s, through the Force. And it carried a sense of truth that only a deep linking of minds could convey. Somehow, with his acceptance and use of the Dark Force, their old training bond had been remade, but in a darker, more intimate way. He could sense Anakin’s mind and hear his voice, right down to its inflections and speech forms, through the armour that encased him, past the scars and damaged body.

“You can’t escape, Obi-Wan. You can’t beat me as you are now, certainly not carrying the girl. Submit to me and you both live. I can’t allow another Dark Side user to challenge me.” He held out a black-gloved hand. “Come to me.”

Part of him wanted to fight, to test that Darkness, to see what feelings he could stir, what tricks he could play. To see just how powerful he was, and what more damage he could inflict. But the spark of his Jedi self still bright amid the pain and fear told him to wait. To find a space to stand and hold. To be…sensible.

His nostrils crinkled at the word but commonsense prevailed. There was no way out at that moment, and survival for both himself and the child dictated an obedience that was both odious and necessary. Time was what he needed, time to think, to plan. And he knew Vader’s patience was limited, even more than it had ever been as Anakin.

He nodded, wordless, flicked off the lightsaber and walked slowly, carefully forward. He reached out and placed the ‘saber into Anakin’s hand, watched as it was clipped to the Dark Lord’s belt, and the mechanical hand returned palm upwards, fist open.

Obi-Wan wasn’t sure how he knew what Vader wanted with that gesture. But he did know and when he placed his own vulnerable fingers onto it, it felt more alive than his own.

#obi wan kenobi #darth vader #obi wan kenobi show

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selfnss · 1 year

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// SHIN MALPHUR (aka his bsd verse will probably be most of what i write him in on here unless ur name is ori and u own my whole left arm)

recruited by the hunting dogs at the age of 15, shin was picked up after raiding the base of an organisation known as 'the shadows' and wiping out both his targets and the houses surrounding them in an uncontrolled blaze of all-consuming fire created by his ability 'the last word'. fukuchi found shin cowering in the rubble and ashes of what he'd done - too young to fully understand the weight of what path he'd set himself down but the culprit of a mass murder of up to 20 people in one night, shin was given little choice but to accept when he was offered a place with the hunting dogs his other options being prison or to be hunted down by other criminal groups that wanted the threat he posed eradicated.

shin is somewhat of an outlier when it comes to the rest of the hunting dogs. his uniform has been altered to include a low hood instead of the usual cap and he's often deployed solo in an attempt to limit any potential collateral from his ability should he need to use it. he is armed with the signature sabre as well as a pistol he was found clinging onto those years ago. not much is known about 'the last word' other than it's ability to cause mass destruction and its nature for the manipulation and creation of a type of supernatural 'fire'.

#muse: shin malphur #this is pretty much all i have for his bsd verse #i'm not even gonna try and explain everything that's happened in his canon timeline lmao that's a whole other kettle of fish #so here #my scrunkly #i like him a lot

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meadowlarkx · 2 years

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I love you all @sparklingdali @imakemywings

1.) finrod dwarf bf

My first silm fic!!! This has been lingering for months at the border of "nearly done" since I wrote most of it in a surge of desperate inspiration. Basically, Finrod romance oneshot-ish with a semi-OC dwarven craftsman who made the Nauglamír. This is actually my saddest finrod fic tbh despite being the one WITHOUT torture and dubcon, because it's canon compliant (imo) and Finrod is hopeful and brilliant and a little vain. :')

Those lit-up eyes softened. "Truly, your craftsmanship impresses me. I have never before been the warden of a thing so fine, nor so beautiful. I will treasure it, wonder-smith, as I have treasured your abode within these walls."

He always found the right words. It was for that open appreciation that the Khazâd so readily labored for him.

dwarf bf really has it bad for this guy

most dubious thing in this fic--i chose a Petty-dwarves narrative before learning about alternate (to me) versions Tolkien had (where Finrod is worse or has direct interaction with Mîm) but this is what I'm probably going to stick to because I like:

It was oddly fitting, Nargothrond, the seat of Felakgundu's power. The caverns' first inhabitants were criminals and outlaws, those Khazâd who had left or been driven forth in the early years. Zirak was a scholar as well as a craftsman, and he knew how those dwarves had met their end—on Elvish arrows in the days before the newcomers had made their way from the Sea. In the months they'd spent in the workshop, the Elf lord had spoken glimmers of the shadow that lay in his own past.

It has a hold on me still, Felakgundu said, after the first and only time Zirak had witnessed a waking dream. If he hadn't known Elves better, he would have thought Felakgundu a little abashed. A moment before, those light eyes had stared at nothing, unseeing and stricken. But I am stronger. And I will build strength in goodness here, no matter how evil the foundation it lies on.

Also they hook up <3

2.) westworld

Well.... having written a fucked up Bohun & Bohun/Helena Westworld AU fic for Ogniem i mieczem... I keep wanting to write a Jan (/OT3) one to keep it company. You know I have plenty of wretched ideas for that boy in this verse. Another villainous Jeremi (I wish I could say I was sorrier). Most of this one is actually in a notebook rn instead of the "westworld"-titled doc:

"What happens with the guests doesn't matter." Jan cocks his head, uncomprehending. The words are blank. Jeremi smiles. "What you do is in my service." Jan glows. "Thank you, my prince." Were there ever sweeter words?

3.) potop ot3 drama

My fav Sienkiewicz WIP at the moment tbh and HOPEFULLY one day I go back to it. This is my attempt at a Kmicic/Wołodyjowski fic because by God, we deserve one. Eventual OT3 with Oleńka I think thus the title. The premise (my beloved silly premise) is this: It's the Kmicic-as-wild-partisan-leader era. Michał is sent a bit earlier to give him his commission. Michał and Kmicic hook up before Michał learns who Kmicic is and that his hot one night stand is the famous, kind of mad partisan leader he's supposed to consider for the officer's commission. Then dramatic shenanigans ensue with Hovansky (the Russian commander who has a price on Kmicic's head) and eventually Oleńka.

“So,” Kmicic echoed, tugging at his collar. Michał had barely met him, and yet the uneasy expression still seemed uncomfortable on that bold, brash face; Kmicic remedied it with a grin that didn’t touch his wild eyes for all its bravery. “The first sabre of the Commonwealth—” “Don’t, God,” Michał mumbled, and Kmicic didn’t. “So you remember. It was a mistake unworthy of either of us. You must know that.”

Kmicic’s eyes flashed and he jumped to his feet, casting the empty glass down so it shattered. “Unworthy—”

Radziwiłł’s commission felt like fire against Michał’s breast, investing him with the strength he needed to respond—to stand in a flash and to grab Kmicic’s forearm over the table as he reached for his sabre, holding hard enough to bruise. He spoke lowly, the words hissed in the sudden closeness. “You must know that.”

Kmicic’s lip curled. His Polish was slightly accented now, as if touched by scorn. Michał could smell the sweet mead on his breath. “Say it again. I’d kill any other man who said that to me. I’d challenge you here and now.” He’d moved to ty.

Well, again.

“You would lose,” Michał said, with as little inflection as a stone. He released him, and Kmicic staggered.

Michał returned to his seat at the bench and picked up a leg of fowl. The tavern girls, flocked to the far corner of the room, visibly exhaled and began to file out towards the kitchen.

Kmicic stood before him, slim chest heaving, eyes the color of steel. He looked as if he were about to strike something.

“Sit down,” Michał said. He’d moved to ty too.

Kmicic sat.

Michał swore softly. “Don’t misunderstand me, sir. But put it out of your mind.”

“You needn’t have any fear on that account!” Kmicic downed another glass and took up the pitcher. Michał looked on with something like concern.

it's not my fault this is MAYBE the most fun Kmicic era

Michał’s mustache twitched. “If there were requisitions, signed orders—”

“May I ask you a question, your grace?” Soroka interrupted, voice low and hard. “What kind of men did your grace expect to find? In Smolensk, there’s none left like you describe. They died, your grace. Thanks be to God, Pan Kmicic hasn’t, and so they flock to him for the blood. For the fires and food, and the hope of jewels off boyars’ caps. Because this ragged part of God’s earth is the only place the courts won’t hound them—for murder and rape and Devil knows what else.”

Michał was silent. Soroka looked away, as if ashamed to speak so freely. Wołodyjowski had never heard the older man say so many words together at once.

“Besides his great boldness, there is no other reason, so if it please your grace, don’t tell my lord how to manage his men until you’ve tried it.”

“I will try it, Soroka,” Michał responded evenly, the leather of his sabre’s hilt warm under his hand. “And I’ll manage your lord too.”

one day. One day. i will finish enough of this to at least post what i've got and contribute my fandom taxes to the Potop tag because god we need more fic with this extremely canon ship

#answered #imakemywings #sparklingdali

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