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vacantgodling · 4 months

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big changes to tcol deities:

they fuck now.

specifically they fuck EACH OTHER. demigods aren’t a thing because you cannot look upon a deity as a mortal/terranean bc you will spontaneously combust or something of the sort esp older deities like IISIDIA your brain will Absolutely melt out of your ears.

the best yall are getting is terraneans venerated to gods (such as MARTH) & guardians that only happen once an era.

alters are already a thing however i should emphasize that it’s a thing more often even tho the only alter i know of atm is QHOZION

i’m thinking of perhaps changing my rule about them needing to be in all caps. maybe when i talk about them i won’t do it but in text it’ll be the caps rule. sometimes i wanna just type muinens or mui cuz im talking about her and not have to go to the lengths of saying MUINENS ya feel

but that’s off topic

back on topic: the other new thing is they can fusion-ha dragonball z style. an example is ylene and brulene combining again together to creating the true herald of glory and combat -> leneyubr (lean-yuh-burr)

i did all of this worldbuilding like i said bc i wanted to justify two characters fucking LMAO and what i mean is i think sex and romance are two different things in tcol and they aren’t correlated all the time. for some it is but for many it’s not

i think for them it’s broken into “pleasure” (sex) and broadly the term for close relationships is “bonds” but also specifically “intimacy”.

this is bc for one -> inheritance is largely not determined by birthright. esp in the royal family bc rulers are always chosen via oracle. on many occasions there have been rulers who were chosen outside out the royal family who were just added into the family. (an example is the ruler ira belledrumm back in 330 iranium (or year) who then married the daughter of the current ruler una

bc bond ceremonies are performed in front of miranka those bonds are only the most sacred (this is separate from marriage and tbh now that im thinking about this i don’t think formal marriage is a thing like how we think of it. i’m gonna have to think on this aspect more) but those bonds aren’t usually “romantic” most people don’t do formal bonds bc those have magical components and should you fail to uphold your bond you could incite the god of love’s wrath LMAO.

there’s just a lot of thinking going on rn. i’ll be back with more whenever i think of it

#s: tcol #worldbuilding

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alexandriteobscuraarchive · 10 months

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((Not me staring at the (for right now) sole true form!Flynn cg and wishing it were Kariom instead of Roui.))

#;;ooc: mun muttering #LISTEN OKAY??? L I S T EN!!!!!!!!!!#bitch was *instantly* on the ground and barely able to protect himself (he's clearly barely holding him at bay) and that's so...hgggh #I know we all want Flynn (transformed or otherwise) to pin us to the ground but BOI---#listen I love FlynnxRoui with all my heart but KariomxFlynn hits different and I need more the crumbs #please just give me the entire cake for all of my tcol ships???? like?????

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lovepaint · 5 years

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ok:( back to u nct 127 and tcol :o(

back 2 u: LITERALLY ncitys best song not to be dramatic but every time I listen to it it feels like the first time the first 37 seconds are so galaxy mind I wanna know what the producers were eating to come up with this song with the background instrumentals constantly building up throughout the song making it never boring or repetitive to listen to

tcol: I feel like most groups wouldn’t have been able to pull it off but it’s tvxq so they made a normal song 10000x better and it’s a crime scene bc made my two brain cells stan but I guess it’s kinda s*xy

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vacantgodling · 2 months

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oc kiss week day 6 4: reach

i’m posting this out of order bc i had this finished first LMAO 💀 next one i’ll post is day 4 promise pff

WIP: the chronicles of lathsbury (tcol)

SHIP: erik soori (he/him, ranger) x un "dion" undershield (he/him, protector)

SUMMARY: dion knew it was his fault, but that didn't make it hurt less. the worst part was erik didn't blame him at all.

tw(s): major out of context spoilers, amputation (not in graphic detail, it's already been done) & traumatic limb loss

worldbuilding notes: erik and miona are both from diisai, which is an island to the west of terrae's mainland across the eastern sea (which is not east lmao). diisaians like themselves have a sort of highland (scottish) adjacent sounding accent, and because i like writing vernaculars, you'll see that make an appearance here. erik's accent is stronger than miona's because miona grew up in the capital of diisai while erik grew up in the highlands.

also sorry in advance for this this is so sad fr LMAO.

“I spoke wi’eh doctor.” Miona said. She wasn’t looking at him, or where Erik lay, deathly still on the hospital bed. His body was fully covered by blankets up to his chin, and his face didn’t look peaceful so much as he just looked like a corpse. If Dion knew Miona better, like Erik did, maybe he would’ve been able to read through whatever emotion her flat voice was trying to hide. He didn’t look at her either. Just kept staring at him like he had for the past week. She waited a long moment before she continued.

“After he’s granted discharge, it's recommended ‘at he retire.”

Another long beat passed.

“He can’t.” Dion was surprised hearing his own voice—the last time he heard it like this was when Fia passed and. And. He sucked in a harsh breath through his nose; he couldn’t think about her. Not now, it would break him.

Miona whirled on him, her eyes suddenly blazing. “Can’t?!” Her voice was shrill. “He lost his fucking arm, you heartless piece o’ shit!” Guilt seared through Dion’s gut like he’d been fileted, and it was hard not to double over from the pain of it. “Th’ whole damn thing!” She screamed and Dion wished he could scream too. He knew! And it was his fault. Miona wasn’t done her tirade however. “Can you stop being so fucking selfish for once in yer damn life—”

“I know what he lost!” Dion finally growled, cutting her off. He could barely breathe around the nausea that gripped him like iron from the inside of his throat, strangling him with every word, but he pushed them out. “But you and I both know he won’t!”

Miona glowered at him, grinding her teeth, knowing he was right but not wanting to admit it herself. She tried again. “Then convince ‘im! For pity’s sake, he can’t go on like this!”

Dion turned away from her, and away from Erik no matter how much he needed to stare at him to make sure that he was there. “I can’t do that.” His voice was barely a puff of air; a wheeze.

If he was looking at Miona, he would’ve seen the way she tugged at her hair in frustration. “Ye’re the only one who can!” She choked on her words, tears welling up in her voice like an overflowing dam. “He’ll ne’er be able to shoot a bow again—don’t ye get it? And you know he won’t sit around and do paperwork all day!”

“I’m not stupid.” Dion felt the stupid, useless tears that he hated to shed begin to trail down his dark cheeks and he pointedly kept his face turned away. That’s what was tearing him up—he knew that Erik was fucked over beyond repair and he fucking caused it.

The one thing Fia loved about Erik more than anything was his bow. The one thing that completed Erik, was that ridiculous thing, near as large as Dion’s own shield, at his side. He drew it with such a raw power in a way that was lost on the rangers of the mainland; a unique artform all of its own. And because of Dion it was ruined. He’d ruined Fia’s dream—as the last insult to her memory. He’d ruined Erik, as the final straw in the string of insults that Dion had taken at his character. The one man who never left him. The one man who coddled him, listened to him, cared for him even when he didn’t fucking deserve it—

“Get out o’eh way, ye stupid bastard!”

Dion kept replaying the moment over and over in his mind.

He had been so focused. So, angry, and reckless—Erik shouldn’t have had to cover his blind spot. Erik shouldn’t have known his blind spot… But logic reasoned that if anyone would’ve known it, Erik would. They’d been fighting together for… too long now. This was the price for that.

Both he and Miona were startled out of their argument by a shifting of the sheets. Of a loud, pained groan.

“A’ll get th’ doctor!” Miona said. She rushed for the door, pausing for only a moment to look back at Dion. “But remember what Ah said. And don’t ye dare hurt him.”

Dion didn’t bother to deign what she said with a response. He was too busy falling to his knees by the bedside, grasping Erik’s trembling left hand in his own—what was left of him.

He was forcibly moved from the bedside when the doctor rushed in.

It was another week before Erik awoke again. And in all that time, Dion stayed by his bedside. He tried to read, but his mind wouldn’t follow the words, but there was nothing else to do so he forced himself through passage after passage of drivel until it made his eyes burn and his head swim.

During that time, the room was constantly fluctuating with visitors: Miona came in nearly every day, and the barman—Papa, whatever his name, stopped by as well. The Diisiain they spoke rapidly between each other was too hushed for Dion to catch any of, but he noticed the forlorn look the burly man gave Erik when he finally ambled out. Cameron stopped by, and that archer his sister fancied, along with other people Dion hadn’t bothered to learn the names of. He’d never… realized how well liked Erik was. He’d been so focused on himself, his vengeance, his pain—its like he never even knew who Erik was. Is. He wasn’t dead. He had to keep telling himself that.

It was a sentiment proven true when Erik began to stir. Dion almost didn’t notice, given how quiet this awakening was compared to the previous outburst. His honey brown eyes were barely visible under his drooping lids, but visible enough for Dion to start when he said, all rasp, “Ne’er thought Ah’d see th’ day where ye’d voluntarily read somethin’, bubble boy.”

The silly nickname that normally Dion hated constricted something fierce in his chest, and his heart stopped, before it began to hammer against his ribs. “You’re awake.” He said dumbly. “You’re actually awake.”

“Fer better or worse.” Erik sighed heavily, so much that Dion could almost hear the creak of his bruised lungs. “Though Ah feel like th’ Lady o’ tha Universe sent th’ planet crashin’ down on me brow an’ knocked me clean oot. I feel awful.” Despite it, Erik chuckled and Dion felt his heart crash down to his stomach. How could he do this? How was he this endless well of optimism. When Fia died, Erik hadn’t shed a tear that Dion could see. Just held him, helped him bury her body—their bodies of the rest of their team. When Dion shunned his jokes and his cheer, he’d let it roll off of his shoulders without even blinking. He almost wanted to ask—what kept him cheerful when the world was cruel and heartless? But then Erik sat up on the bed. With some difficulty, Dion could add. The book he was reading fell from his lap as he lunged to reach Erik, helping him get to an upright position with a hand steadied on his back. The blanket dropped from his shoulders, and suddenly it was bared to the world. Bandaged; but enough that Dion felt the nausea of guilt arrest him again. Where Erik’s right arm should’ve been, there was nothing but a nub right at the shoulder. It was a clean break, like someone snapped it off like an icicle or chalk, and not the horribly mangled, jagged thing it had been when Dion and Jace managed to drag him to the hospital, already passed clean out from the pain. They must’ve had to amputate slightly further up, to salvage what they could… even if it wasn’t much.

Aware of it, Erik stilled, and how he was turned obscured his expression from Dion. Without warning, his left arm came grasping at the place where his arm once was.

“She’s really gone… Isn’t she?” Erik’s voice was threadbare. But surprisingly, he wasn’t the one who’d begun to cry.

When Dion didn’t give him an answer, Erik turned his head. The worried expression on his face was swimming in Dion’s vision.

“Oi… Ye… ye’re cryin’?” Erik looked about as lost as Dion felt. When he tried to open his mouth, no sound came out. “Ah…” Erik’s left hand reached out then hesitated, unsure. But, steeling his resolve, he reached out all the way, and grasped Dion by the front of his shirt. It only took one tug to pull Dion into his embrace, and any other day, any other time Dion would’ve shoved him off but now… His arms just felt too weak.

Against his hair, he felt a brush of Erik’s lips.

“Ah didn’t think ye’d cry.” He said, hushed. The lips pressed into Dion’s hair again, this time more purposeful and it hit Dion so sharply that he felt dizzy. Despite the fact that Dion caused his injury. Despite the fact that Dion couldn’t do anything but growl and scowl and give him grief for his troubles to be friendly, that no matter what happened between them, Erik was always there whenever Dion fell. He couldn’t bear it, he couldn’t bear it.

“If Ah thought Ah could’a gone fer me bow, I woulda but…” Erik tried to laugh but it came out watery and broken. “An’ now… Ah’m ne’er gonna shoot me bow again.” He laughed again, but this one was more pained and Dion pulled away, if only to look into Erik’s eyes. Tears had begun pouring down his face like a river’s spring flood.

Dion wished he knew what to say.

“.... Ah promised meself that Ah wouldn’t regret it if ye were safe.” Erik whispered, and then suddenly he was breaking. It was all Dion could do but pull Erik into his chest as he wailed, his tears wrenching and racking his whole, too thin body with them. All Dion could do was hold him and mirror the gesture; pressing the most delicate of kisses to Erik’s head as he fell apart.

#ockiss24 #these two drive me insane they BREAK ME they HURT ME SM #this is part of what makes dion finally get his head out of his ass btw #s: tcol #ren writing #spoilers ig

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vacantgodling · 2 months

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oc kiss week day 3: sunrise

WIP: the chronicles of lathsbury (tcol)

SHIP: clear brightendale (he/him, medic) x forte symphonia (he/him, ranger aka an archer)

SUMMARY: on a quiet morning, forte finally replies to the feelings clear shared with him 4 months ago.

worldbuilding notes: technically this is a spoiler scene, as it happens after the main plot events of tcol's book 1. aside from the kissing, no spoilers are really prevalent though.

It happened on a quiet sort of morning.

It rained the night before, there was fresh dew on the ground in patches of wet earth and grass, and the land smelled of a certain kind of freshness that could only be found in nature. Forte breathed the smell in deep, sitting silently on the small patch of dry roofing that his childhood home had to offer.

It was good to be back, better even than he imagined. Forte was never suited for city life. People were constantly bustling, hustling; there was always an unyielding sense of urgency that was lost on him— an urgency that he couldn’t understand. With so little time with the grass beneath their feet and the wind in their hair; it was as though people were eager to do as much as possible to leave some kind of legacy behind. Piper was like that: brash, fierce, bold, unwavering. Last he heard from her she was almost at the top of her class at the knight academy. The mark she wanted to leave on this world was bright, and it radiated the same intensity. But quite her opposite, Forte preferred these quiet moments, and he was craving them by the time he finally was able to cash in some vacation time with Cameron to come see how everyone was doing back home.

Bass Landing was a quiet sort of place. People knew each other well, and there was never any need for formalities. The community had been supporting itself on the backbone of the arts for centuries, and the familial ties that everyone felt there were too rich, and rooted in history to be broken. Forte grew up amongst his neighbor’s gardens; tall leafy plants teaching him his first lessons in utilizing visage. The river that ran behind the furthest outskirts of the settlement was a tumultuous teacher of the treachery life could bring: almost every year, the River Cadenza brought forth her waves and flooded the landscape. Every year as Forte watched, he began to learn how to predict her near unpredictable nature. It was when he told his findings to his mother that he received his first bow; for he had proven the intuition of a Ranger. It was a test he was never informed he would be taking, but one he was glad he did all the same. It felt too easy to reminisce when he was on the roof like this.

“Up so early already?”

Clear’s voice wasn’t an unwelcome one. He’d shown the medic the way up here when they arrived together two evenings ago, and each morning he would sleepily crawl up the rickety ladder to join him in watching the sunrise. It hadn’t been a whim that Forte asked him home either. After they finally talked 4 months ago, and Clear divulged the true meaning behind his avoidance, they’d been becoming closer than ever.

It was also not unwelcome.

As per usual, Clear drowsily rubbed his eyes and yawned, hoisting himself up the rest of the way of the ladder with relative ease. It was easy to forget the strength hidden underneath his covered arms— a strength that was misleading. Almost embarrassed to admit to it, his mind recalled the moment he realized just how strong the medic was when Clear hoisted him clean over his shoulder like a deadweight that meant nothing to him. He’d called Clear in for a demonstration in one of his classes for the best methods to carry injured teammates away from the Labyrinth or battle, and the class was positively delighted to see it happen. It was also the first time they’d touched each other casually since that night Clear told him and Forte pretended not to notice Clear’s hand flexing in the aftermath, as he was too busy trying to calm his heart’s own shivers.

“It feels like you keep waking up earlier and earlier to test my devotion.”

Forte quirked a small smirk. “Maybe I am.”

The medic laughed, quietly but brightly, and the sound was personified sunlight. The first few rays of the sun were beginning to peak out over the horizon, and Forte looked over to Clear as he got settled in, scooting over slightly so they could somewhat share the small patch of dry roof. They were close enough their shoulders touched.

“You won’t get rid of me that easily, Fort.” Clear sighed, a happy sound, then he dropped his head unceremoniously onto his shoulder, leaning into him instinctively. And just as instinctually, Forte found his arm sliding out and snaking around Clear’s trim waist to support him.

They said nothing for a long while; the silence was comfortable, both more than willing to bask in the sunrise and the other’s presence than fill the silence with unnecessary chatter. It was one of the many things Forte came to appreciate about Clear. Though when he got worked up his mouth ran a mile a minute, he was truly a man who appreciated silence. Often, he’d seen him in various places around the Guild, meditating, humming softly to himself as he did. It was a few weeks ago that Forte had been invited to join him, and what he thought was humming before seemed to be some sort of invocation or a prayer:

♪ Blessed be those who follow Her Blessed be those whom She guides My soul worn and weary from life Has followed Her to great divide ♪

“And when my time has come, O She,” He heard Clear whispering to himself, as if on cue with his memory. “Comforter of those benign Will take me home to Cerullis And my heart Hers to hide.”

“Where did you learn that song?” Clear hummed again, this time noncommittal. He didn’t answer right away and Forte didn’t push him— with Clear, facing his demons and uncovering his past was something that took time, energy, and patience. Forte had time.

“We used to—” Clear cut himself off, thought, then started again. “It’s a song sung before hunts to remind those participating to be unafraid. Death is not here to hurt, but to guide away to the promised land.” Clear finally looked at Forte, his eyes surprisingly calm. “I still sing it because it reminds me to be unafraid.”

“Is there something you’re afraid of right now?” Forte asked, and Clear chuckled, softly. “No. Not at all. It just brings me comfort.” Clear nestled back into his chest without another word, and Forte let his hold tighten around the medic.

When the sun’s rays were fully visible, the sky turned a brilliant shade of blue, and Forte looked over at Clear again. He was nodding off again, and the sun’s light was perfectly positioned just right so that he could admire him. His lashes were long and dark, fluttering like butterfly wings over his half visible purple eyes. His hair dropped in front of his face like, casting delicate shadows over his cheeks and nose. His lips were plush, slightly parted, enough to see the beginnings of his teeth. Forte was overcome with the overwhelming desire to kiss him. It was becoming harder not to these days.

But in this quiet moment, in this sleepy town, with a gentle breeze blowing across the expanse of the trees, up his roof and through the hair of his companion, Forte felt his heart swell— in a way he hadn’t felt in ages.

“Clear.” The medic sleepily opened his eyes, rubbing them on the back of his knuckle. “Oh! Sorry, did I fall asleep on you?” He began to sit up but Forte’s grip on his waist tightened, giving the other man pause. He looked at him questioningly. Somewhere in those bright, searching violet eyes, Forte saw poorly disguised hope.

“I love you.”

The wind blew Forte’s dark hair back from his face, and he watched the myriad of emotions morph on his companion’s face. He stayed perfectly still, letting him process it. His heart was a painful drumbeat against his ribs.

“You…. Mean that?” Clear finally settled on. He looked nervous—hopeful, but nervous. Afraid it was too soon. Never that it was a joke. He knew Forte would never joke with him like this. Not after what he said before.

Forte’s smile was soft, his eyes crinkling at their corners and genuine and something like a tidal wave crashed into Clear’s body that made it very hard to breathe. He didn’t say anything else, afraid of breaking whatever spell the two of them were under, with Forte looking at him like some immeasurably precious thing, and Clear too stunned to believe it was him he was looking at. But Forte broke the moment; he leaned in, and pressed soft, if chapped, lips against Clear’s own.

Kissing Forte was overwhelming, in the best way. Clear slowly let himself reply, pressing back gently, letting his eyes slowly fall closed and his arms slid up his firm chest to pull Forte closer. He went. His other arm came around to rest on Clear’s waist, and he tilted his head, letting the kiss fall deeper.

Clear smelled of lavender and fresh linen, and Forte felt intoxicated by the way lithe hands slowly climbed into his hair, tugging gently, but purposefully. Forte licked gently at the lip pressed against his, and Clear easily opened his mouth, and their tongues slid languidly against one another— enough to hint at an underlying desire that they would perhaps explore later. Much later. For now, it was enough to prod, to acknowledge, to taste, to slowly savor.

Forte slowly pulled back but didn’t stray far, and watched reverently as Clear’s eyes fluttered open. Their foreheads touched together gently, and the sun climbed higher in the sky, illuminating them.

“I love you too.” Clear said softly back and Forte smiled again, rubbing a thumb against his cheek and letting the warmth of the new morning envelope them in its embrace.

It felt like a new beginning

#ockiss24 #s: tcol #ren writing #this is a cheat cuz i wrote this 2 years ago but it just so perfectly matches sunrise and i don’t think ive ever posted it SOOO #it’s only fitting that this gets posted valentine’s day tbh

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vacantgodling · 2 months

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oc kiss week day 2: rain

WIP: the chronicles of lathsbury (tcol)

SHIP: lath, guardian of valor (pre-guardian days; he/him) x ensio of argos (pre-sword of guardian days; he/him)

SUMMARY: lath was always rash and hasty, always getting himself into trouble even over the most mundane of things. as always, ensio is there to reign him in.

worldbuilding notes: this is BEFORE the day of fissures (aka about 3k years ago in terranean history from canon), so this is when the city of argos was still standing; when lath and en were simply scouts in the army.

shout out specifically to @henrike-does-writing-sometimes who's the biggest lath fan ever as well

About half past midday, dark clouds covered the sky. Not too long after, large droplets of rain began to pour over the Citadel of Argos.

From his perch in the western watchtower that he had been delegated to for his “punishment” for speaking to the Patrol General out of turn… again, Lath stared, unblinking out from where he sat on the sill of the open-air arches, his leg kicking back and forth. He’d been forbidden from climbing out onto the roof the last time he was up here—not that rules would stop him—but with the rain beginning to pick up to a downpour, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to even. He was a lover of high places, through and through, but the stone and mortar that the watchtowers (and most of the city) were made of, made it far too slippery to scale his way down during inclement weather. Lath opted to simply bide his time; gazing out at the distant green hills that were silhouetted shapes that no one had dared to venture. The swamps that separated Argos from them were vast and deadly; filled to the brim with monsters and beasts alike. Those foolish enough to even consider the undertaking were mad. Perhaps Lath was. Ever since he was a boy he’d dreamed of what lay on the other side of those hills. Dreamed of what sorts of lands and biomes lay beyond the borders of the fortress walls. But as with the rain, he bided. Never mind that he hadn’t convinced Ensio to come with him yet.

The trapdoor that lead up to the watchtower had a rusty hinge for as long as Lath remembered. Even from the first time he was taken up here on watch; through the winding, dusty stairwell that had most certainly seen better days, the trapdoor’s third hinge always squeaked. It was a comfort and a warning so no one bothered to replace it. But as it were, Lath turned his gaze from out to the hills to the trapdoor. No one should be coming to see him, as he was told by the general he wasn’t to be fetched for another day and a half. The General—as most—was at his wits end with him and Lath didn’t blame him. He’d never taken well to authority. He knew his tenacity as a warrior was the only thing that kept him off of the streets, but even then he couldn’t find it in himself to be thankful. The only person who’d ever deserved his respect was—

“If you’re trying to sneak on me En, you’re doing a piss poor job of it.”

From the trapdoor, a familiar, broad shouldered figure appeared, so broad that they barely fit into the hole left by the door. His brown hair was matted and wet against his face; the tight ringlets it usually existed in losing both their shine and shape. Water dripped off of his sun-kissed skin, down the freckles, and off the metal beads that held together the tiny braids in his beard. He didn’t scowl at Lath, but he did give him one of his unimpressed looks.

“Is that any way to greet your savior?” His voice was laced with amusement. Lath’s face stayed virtually the same, except one of his eyebrows, that quirked. “Has the General gotten off his high horse yet so I may come back down?”

Ensio snorted. “I said savior not miracle worker. You ran your mouth quite badly this time.” With a little shimmy, Ensio hoisted himself fully into the watchtower, and let the door fall shut behind him. He took up residence in the place that Lath should be sitting in, which was a rickety old chair that was fitted in halfway decent tanned leather. “I don’t see what you’re saving me from then.” Lath said, flatly but not unkindly. “Unless you mean boredom. If that’s the case, see yourself back down and fetch me a jester.”

“Oh ha ha.” Ensio rolled his eyes. He set about shedding the jacket that he’d donned to protect himself from the worst of the rain (and failed, really, he still looked like a drowned rat. Lath told him so, and dodged slightly to the side when Ensio threw a rogue game piece leftover from the last watchman who’d been in this tower. It sailed out of the window and into the city streets below). From beneath his jacket however, he produced a wooden jar that was sealed tightly shut with a cloth and a bit of twine. He passed the jar to Lath, and when he touched it, the wood felt hot.

“Have you finally resorted to poisoing me, En?” Lath asked bemusedly. Without waiting for an answer, he unwound the twine from around the jar’s top and the smell of thick herbs and spices hit his nose, suddenly making him aware of the everpresent rumbling of his stomach that he’d long since begun to ignore.

Ensio smirked at him. “I wouldn’t waste mother’s stew on petty poison. I’m saving you from starvation, you dolt.”

“Thank Cerullius for your mother then! But, I’m sure there’s some crumbs or two left around up here. I would’ve prevailed.”

“Perhaps I shouldn’t have snuck through the guards on the way here to save your sorry ass then.” Even as he said it, Ensio reached into the breast pocket of his moderately damp linen shirt and produced a metal spoon. He passed it to Lath. “Oh the horrors of your siblings, I presume.” Lath replied back sarcastically. He took the proffered spoon and immediately dipped it into the stew, bringing some up to his lips, as he was famished. Before Ensio could warn him, Lath touched the metal spoon to his lips, shoving it past them. It was hot.

He swore, yanking the spoon out of his mouth and juggling the hot stew between his tongue and cheeks until he was able to swallow it down and it scorched his throat anyway—the spices not helping in the slightest. Ensio was quick to jump up, taking both the spoon and the jar of stew away from him.

“Stars and hills, Lath, be fucking careful!” He hissed, but the irritation in his voice was sharp contrast to way his hands gently came up to cup Lath’s cheeks. Lath’s lips were always sensitive and Ensio’s mother loved to overspice her food, to make up for it’s lack of substance—not her fault, of course. Famines had been rampanet. Still, if it were cooler, Lath would’ve been fine, but it wasn’t, and Ensio knew that. Without even thinking twice of it, his used his thumb to wipe away the piping hot, spicy stew from his lips, but Lath whined in the back of his throat.

“Why didn’t you tell me it was hot!” He complained. “You were already eating it before I could say anything!” Ensio said with a roll of his eyes. In a swift motion he leant in and pressed his lips over the hot spice burning on Lath’s own. They were still cool from the rain and blessedly so, to ease blisters. Ensio released Lath’s face after a beat, and Lath struggled to remember when his eyes slipped closed.

“Must you always be so difficult?” Ensio murmured, but his voice was low in the back of his throat, low like the way his eyes were almost partially lidded. Lath stared at him, as he was prone to, until Ensio complained and Lath let out a bark of a laughter.

“I’m difficult because it’s you.” He declared.

“Lucky me.” Ensio groaned. He sat himself back in the chair, holding open one arm. “Get over here before you catch a cold.”

#ockiss24 #again what is gayer: gay sex or WHATEVER these two have going on #the answer is them because My God #anyway #i love these two very much #s: tcol #ren writing

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vacantgodling · 2 months

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oc kiss week day 1: almost

WIP: the chronicles of lathsbury (tcol)

SHIP: arian bloom (pre-guardian days; he/him, bard) x evondra (pre-demon king days, she/her, beast)

SUMMARY: arian visits evondra at her nest and reminisces on their quietly budding romance. what else can he call this feeling but love?

note: this is a flashback scene and takes place 300 years before the main story begins, which also means this is when arian is still mortal :P also monster x terranean (human but to the left) but tender tm

The illusions that the Labyrinth could conjure were always beautiful to behold.

Arian stood staring out into the seemingly vast landscape of desert before him. Miles and miles of sand that wasn’t truly there. He could try and stray left, or stray right, but the walls of this beautiful prison were tall and rigid, and kept him on his course. That was okay with him, he wasn’t here today to take in the sights—here instead, to follow this particular branch of tunnels until he was finally at her nest.

They had come close now, at least several times that Arian could remember; inching towards almost too many to count. Close to acknowledging what feelings fluttered behind Arian’s breast when he caught a glimpse of that sweet, toothy thing he’d named her smile. Towards what made his palms sweat when she asked him, in the most gentle voice she could muster, to play his lute. Twice now he’d fallen asleep at her behest and awoke to her shimmering eyes watching him, carefully and with something he privately named adoration caressing her expression. Perhaps it was just his unwavering romanticism spreading its wings towards Palanthia*… or perhaps it was grounded in some reality.

Either way, he marched, following the trail along. Occasionally he would pause when he felt a fork in the tunnels and consulted the map he’d drawn. It’d taken nearly a year to get one this detailed—aided by her steady, knowing hands to draw the paths. She’d simply covered his with her own and closed her eyes, humming so deep that it was both an earthquake and a melody. A seismic sense, she’d explained to him, to feel her way through the tunnels no matter what magic or images the Labyrinth showed her.

“Soon, I hope you can find me on your own.” She’d said and she carded a long claw through his locked hair. “Instead of I, always having to come find you.” Arian giggled under her ministrations and allowed himself to ease back into her. It was a wonder that she had begun to show him her many forms; this one was large and bipedal, a mixture of fur and skin intermingling her body. The fur of her chest was soft and the skin of her breast softer, softer than any silk or newborn babe he had ever held. “Perhaps if you hum.” Arian said back. “Your songs are more beautiful than anything I’ve ever beheld.”

“They are not songs.” She’d said with a tut, but if he glimpsed her face, she was smiling that toothy smile. “But I am glad to sing them for you.”

It could’ve been hours or days that he wandered down this hall—time in The Labyrinth was hard to determine, but Arian didn’t mind for he still felt as young and emboldened by love as he always was—until he stood before what she’d described: the winding vines of silver ivy that bloomed green flowers that smelled of summertime. It appeared out of place; this greenery among this desert illusion, but the moment he touched the ivy, it melted away until he was back in the green, shadowy halls.

“My love?” Arian called. “Evondra?”

A deep rumble sounded from within the nest, and suddenly Arian was tackled to the floor; his arms only just nimble enough to catch the beast-princess in her slighter form, which still towered over him when they stood astride one another. Her long, black tresses tumbled behind her in waves, then fell around them in the sand of the illusion reconjured after his hand left her nesting door. Her eyes were bright with excitement, the weight of her fall pressed her nose to his, and he could feel the small pants of her breath on his lips. So close… yet not close enough.

“Evie, my love!” He laughed joyfully instead, and oh, how easy it would be to tilt his head up and capture her lips. How he longed to—desperate to spill his feelings out into the world of the physical instead of keeping them contained behind his ribs. But did she even show affection that way? There was so much to consider when entangling in this delicate, dangerous game their hearts were entrenched in. But it didn’t feel anything but saccharine, sweet.

“Its so good to see you.” He said, sincerely, holding his tongue.

“You took so long.” She said with a pout, yet her eyes flickered, from his lips, then back to his eyes, slowly enough, seemingly so he would see it. He felt his dark cheeks bloom with a welcome warmth of blush. “And I have missed you greatly.”

“Greatly! There’s a word, my love. You’re learning Aegean beautifully.” Evondra sat up, and took the warmth of her and her hair with him, perched just so on his lap. “Of course!” She said. “Father has been….” The furry, beastly ears that were still present atop of her head pressed down, blending into it seamlessly. “Insistent. But he is impressed with my progress, thanks to you, Aria.”

The unspoken in the room—the marriage she was supposed to have with a noble Terranean… Arain could bring it up. But why speak of rain when the sun was still shining? Why worry about tomorrow, when one of her claws closed over his to draw him up, back towards this secret nest that she’d never let anyone see.

Why worry about the consequences of their love, if the almosts set his soul ablaze?

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*Palanthia = Palanthia is the personification of hope in Terranean mythology. It’s usually depicted as the goddess MUINENS’s shield, but is occasionally referred to as though it were a place or a state of being. The city Wish of Palanthia was named for this, as Palanthia was born out of the first and only Terranean civil war.

#s: tcol #ockiss24 #ren writing #the first one i wrote quickly #they're so sweet and thinking about them before everything makes me soft #they were so sweet and innocentttttt #well #arian still is

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vacantgodling · 2 months

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aight time for some last minute OC KISS WEEK PLANNING AY (lmao this bitch literally starts tomorrow lmaoooo i've just been doing so much shit)

tl;dr i'm gonna be doing this with tcol couples, so i'm gonna drop 7 of them that i wanna write, and the number of votes will dictate what order i'm writing them for tm (i will do my best to finish all of them; i'm thinking i stick to like 500-2k words per prompt cuz that's the lower end of my writing amount wise)

i'm gonna do all of them but i figured this'll be a fun way to randomize them

#i had to put lath and ensio #but i really thought about charissa and altair #BUT i really wanted to do saith and illiana they deserve it #s: tcol #ren polls

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vacantgodling · 3 months

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TCOL CHARACTER TOURNAMENT

ROUND 1

Character 32

You have always operated best under darkness, but at this point you’re struggling to see. You have been stumbling through the dark for what feels like forever and this pain is only getting worse. But for them you hold on. For their sake. You can’t fail them, as you have failed everyone else in your life. Through tears you hold them up, even if it costs you your eyes. It will be worth it if they see the light in this never ending darkness. It will be worth it if they’re free.

Character 22

Envy is the gateway to all sins; borne from misplaced pride. Your pride and ego have grown so large that they’re debilitating; crushing every good relationship that you’ve ever had, taking from you everything you’ve held dear. But admitting to that would be admitting that it’s your fault and it can’t be your fault; you refuse. Everyone else is to blame, and you will blame them until your last breath. Even if it’s fool hearted, even if it hurts you more in the end, at some point you convinced yourself that it has to be worth it because if it wasn’t… You can’t bear to think what it would mean if it wasn’t.

#s: tcol #tcol character tournament 2024 #ren polls

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vacantgodling · 3 months

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TCOL CHARACTER TOURNAMENT

ROUND 1

Character 5

From a young age you have quietly watched—as the world around you blossoms and changes, as a sturdy oak you never falter. When it came time for you to choose your destiny, you deterred from your father’s path in the spotlight, to find your place among the common folk—to see the world and all its hidden beauties. Yet, this wasn’t a terrible departure; your family has always wished you well, and it is that bond that has strengthened you from sapling to tree. Your eyes see the evil as you come into this new place, but you do not flee from it. Even if it should take the very sight you hold dear, ever as a tree, you weather.

Character 11

You wanted the easy way out to avoid unnecessary expectations. Your parents wanted more from you, for you, but the mundanity you seek is a rare commodity. You finally found it here, you thought, but life has a way of changing plans. And these plans involve heroism — you’re not certain you’re being paid enough for it.

#s: tcol #tcol character tournament 2024 #ren polls

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vacantgodling · 3 months

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TCOL CHARACTER TOURNAMENT

inspired and encouraged to do this by @calicohyde i’m finally going to forcibly introduce y’all to the GIANT cast of my wip the chronicles of lathsbury by pitting them head to head for your viewing pleasure.

HOWEVER—this is not going to be a typical bracket, where i tell you the character’s names, ages, sexualities and summarize them. NO, i will be strictly operating on VIBES. i have painstakingly assigned each character a number and randomized the numbers against each other to really be as fair as i can possibly make it.

(as an aside this does not include any historical characters or gods; strictly those involved in the main plot of book one)

AT THE END OF EACH ROUND I WILL REVEAL THE LOSING CHARACTER’S BASIC INFORMATION (name, age, appearance, etc) AND FUN FACTS ABOUT THEM. MAYHAPS EVEN A PICREW OR ART IDK.

so without further ado: here are the brackets. there’s 40 (major) characters total!

ROUNDS 1 & 2: consist of a 2nd person, bird’s eye view of their entire narrative arc and motivations. they’re small paragraphs, so no worries lmao. technically it’s “all” round one but from how the bracket is set up and the fact that i have 40 characters to get through, i’m gonna do the first set of 10 then the second set of 10 on different days.

ROUND 3: will be moodboards of 4 images that represent them in some way.

ROUND 4 (QUARTER-FINALS): will be a singular song that represents this character (to me)

ROUND 5 (SEMI-FINALS): 3 random, unrelated facts will be given about the characters ranging from serious to funny

ROUND 6 (FINALS): i will choose 3 adjectives that they use to describe themselves, 3 adjectives others use to describe them, and 3 adjectives EYE use to describe them. and then, a winner will be crowned.

this is gonna happen over the course of several days and i’m gonna start setting up and probably have the first 10 rounds up tomorrow at the latest! thanks again jack for inspiring this Behemoth i’m Very Curious to see who comes out on top ��

POLL DIRECTORY:

ROUND 1

38 vs 16 -> 38 ADVANCES! loser is: lord kiba lathsbury

5 vs 11 -> 5 ADVANCES! loser is: sir mukul brio

18 vs 8 -> 8 ADVANCES! loser is: karenza hawkins

13 vs 26 -> 26 ADVANCES! loser is: saith praline

24 vs 9 -> 9 ADVANCES! loser is: miki kaganoff

27 vs 15 -> 15 ADVANCES! loser is: duchess primrose aegos

32 vs 22 -> 32 ADVANCES! loser is: un “dion” undershield

33 vs 31 -> 31 ADVANCES! loser is: helix carmine

29 vs 37 -> 37 ADVANCES! loser is: galen lanthi

34 vs 14 -> 14 ADVANCES! loser is: elodia pesante

ROUND 2

2 vs 30 -> 30 ADVANCES! loser is: sandra "san" dearborn

20 vs 17 -> 17 ADVANCES! loser is: moira dearborn

6 vs 35 -> TIE! WILL BE RESHUFFLED TO ROUND 2.5

28 vs 4 -> 4 ADVANCES! loser is: fiametta lanthi

39 vs 10 -> 10 ADVANCES! loser is: duchess arietta lathsbury

19 vs 36 -> 19 ADVANCES! loser is: duke sid lathsbury

23 vs 25 -> 25 ADVANCES! loser is: jace kaganoff

40 vs 21 -> 40 ADVANCES! loser is: erik soori

1 vs 12 -> 12 ADVANCES! loser is: piper fairwind

3 vs 7 -> TIE! WILL BE RESHUFFLED TO ROUND 2.5

ROUND 2.5

26 vs 32 -> 32 ADVANCES! loser is: duke aran lathsbury

5 vs 3 -> 5 ADVANCES! loser is: deux undershield

31 vs 6 -> 31 ADVANCES! loser is: madja fandel

15 vs 38 -> 15 ADVANCES! loser is: king luther lathsbury

35 vs 9 -> 35 ADVANCES! loser is: miona winfrey

8 vs 7 -> 7 ADVANCES! loser is: jihi arthea

ROUND 3

25 vs 17 -> 17 ADVANCES! loser is: daran “papa” isai

30 vs 12 -> 30 ADVANCES! loser is: sir keevan guerra

4 vs 37 -> 4 ADVANCES! loser is: general duchess muinena lathsbury

7 vs 32 -> 7 ADVANCES! loser is: altair nocturne

14 vs 10 -> 14 ADVANCES! loser is: felicity evergreen

5 vs 15 -> 5 ADVANCES! loser is: kalifia fandel

31 vs 19 -> 31 ADVANCES! loser is: jagoda arthea

35 vs 40 -> 35 ADVANCES! loser is: lord evondra, the demon king

ROUND 4

ROUND 5

ROUND 6

#s: tcol #tcol character tournament 2024 #to update

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