#WOW THIS IS LONG

[starfinss]

Efflorescent — Tighnari

𝘍𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘮: Genshin Impact

𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: Tighnari + Reader

𝘙𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨: NSFW

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 8,495

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: Triggered by unseasonably cool weather, Avidiya forest is alive with rare flora. Upon going to investigate it, you and Tighnari get more than you bargained for. 

It was supposed to be an ordinary expedition. And by all accounts, it was, until you found that stupid clearing.

The weather that week was uncharacteristically cool for Avidiya Forest, as ushered in by a passing thunderstorm, and the change in temperature had caused flora that rarely bloomed to come to life, painting the forest with splashes of color, and it wasn’t until a few days after the storm that you began to take notice of the unusual plants.

So when Tighnari had rushed to your room that morning, rousing you from your slumber, you were just as excited as he was to go look for rare samples.

The conversation as you walked into the tree line was full of quiet excitement, the clinking of the glass sample jars in your rucksack almost musical against the morning stillness. You were used to the characteristic balmy humidity that was omnipresent in the rainforests of Sumeru, and the cool breeze felt lovely against your skin. The sky was perfect blue, cloudless and painted with streaks of gold and marigold hues as the sun rose.

The Akademiya would never allow this.

You smiled to yourself at the thought, knowing full well how strenuous it would be to get permission to do this if you were still with the Akademiya. You’d have to talk to your instructors, get permission, write a paper, write another paper, write a proposal, and the list goes on. It was all far too much for you, when all you ever wanted was to go out and discover.

“What are you thinking?” Tighnari asked, head cocked slightly to the side, eyes inquisitive.

“Just about how nice this is,” you replied, pulling your rucksack up higher on your back.

“It is quite beautiful,” Tighnari said fondly, “I wonder if we will find any Avidiya Lilies.”

You hummed in assent, your interest showing in the way your eyes lit up. You’d only seen the flower he mentioned as a bud, coiling along vines encircling trees. It only bloomed when it was cool enough, just after a storm, and since the cool had lingered, you were wondering if the flower had remained in bloom, just as Tignnari was wondering.

Small animals skittered past you as you walked, shroomboars and foxes paying you little mind, as they were used to the presence of the forest rangers such as yourself and Tighnari. You loved it out there; totally at one with nature, and filled with a sense of peace like no other.

Avidiya Forest was like a living organism, so full of vibrancy and life, awash with color and all sorts of smells. If you were hungry, you could stop and forage for mushrooms. If you were thirsty, there were plenty of clear streams you could drink from. Nature provided, and that was one of your favorite things about it. You took a deep lungful of forest air as you walked, a smile spreading across your face.

“There!” Tignnari cried, his voice hushed as he knelt beside the path, “creeping silkweed.”

You knelt beside him, studying the small, pale blue blossoms, which were blooming on a fallen log, attached to a delicate vine. Your fingers brushed against the fragile petals, and you withdrew your shears from your pack.

Carefully, you snipped off a segment of the vine, packing some soft dirt and clear water from a nearby stream into the jar before adding the sample. With a satisfying click, you screwed the lid closed, replacing the jar in the rucksack.

“I’ve only seen those in bloom at twilight, and even then, they often stray closed. It’s amazing to see them in bloom right now. When the conditions are right, they’re supposed to glow. It’s very beautiful.”

You stared at the remaining flowers on the vine, admiring the way the pale blue of the petals tapered off into white the closer it got to the soft yellow of the center. Veins of deep indigo laced up and along the petals, a beautiful contrast to the gentle color.

You stood when Tighnari did, listening intently to the information and facts he was giving you, happy to have the field experience rather than just looking at drawings of plants in a dusty textbook.

Tighnari looked like a painting in the fresh morning light. The dark of his hair was a sharp contrast to the lush green around you, the chartreuse of his bangs elegantly framing his pale, delicate face. Your face felt warm as you watched him, and when he saw you looking, he gave you a friendly smile.

“Is there something on your mind?” He asked gently, his eyes genuine, and you blushed, tearing your gaze away from his face.

“No, I was just listening. You were talking about the hypanthium of the silkweed blossoms?”

Tighnari nodded, eyes lighting up as he continued on talking about the various parts of the flower, and you went right on listening.

It wasn’t until about two hours later, when you were sitting down to rest and refresh yourselves when you caught your first lungful of something new.

You paused mid-gulp as you drank from your waterskin, moving the spout away from your lips as you took another deep breath. It was something you’d never smelled before, like jasmine and lavender, vanilla and lemongrass. It was indescribably scrumptious, smelling of earth and flowers, of your favorite incense, all at once, shifting, sending your senses into overdrive, even if it was still rather faint, requiring several deep breaths to get another whiff of; the kind of scent that you had to take several lungfuls to fully appreciate, or to even place. You had to wonder, out of academic curiosity and for more selfish reasons, where exactly that wonderful scent was coming from.

“I see that you smell it, too,” Tighnari mused.

You nodded, and suddenly, you were aware of how nice Tighnari’s voice was. It was musical against your ears, making you smile.

“It’s new,” he continued, frowning, “I’ve never noticed it before, and with my oversensitive olfactory system, it would have been very evident.”

“Is it dangerous, do you think?” You asked.

“I doubt it,” Tighnari said, glancing sidelong at you, “do you know of anything that would smell like this?”

You shook your head. “It smells like… like many things. All of them are wonderful. Maybe it’s supposed to draw in certain insects, or animals. I don’t know what made it this strong. That’s interesting.”

Tighnari’s brows pushed together, and he was clearly deep in thought.

You’d never noticed just how good looking he was before. You already knew that Tighnari was handsome, that was obvious. You were attracted to him, as many undoubtedly were, and he was a very dear friend. But right now, lit by the sun filtering through the canopy above, he looked more incredible than anything you’d ever seen. With him this close to you, you could smell the earthen scent of his soap, and—

“I’d like to take a sample.”

His voice snapped you out of your staring, and you coughed to hide your embarrassment.

Get ahold of yourself. Think about all of that when he isn’t less than a foot away. Collei already teases you enough.

Truthfully, you wanted a sample, too. You were always hungry for new information, and this was no exception. You eagerly pulled a sample jar from your rucksack, passing it to Tighnari. He sniffed the air once, then a second time, before motioning for you to follow him.

“I learned about plants like this in the Akademiya,” Tighnari explained, “they’re bait, like you said, for small animals and insects. I don’t think the plant is carnivorous, it’s just a way to spread the pollen around, since the scent is nearly irresistible. I’ve never heard of it affecting humans, or my species, this strongly before, however.”

You remembered something like that in a textbook, but the name of the flower in question escaped you. Also, the flower you were thinking of usually affected animals roughly the size of a squirrel or a fox, and not the size of a fully grown person.

The scent got stronger as you walked, off the beaten path and into a clearing.

You stopped after stepping past Tighnari, your breath caught in your throat as you took in the sight before you. There was a waterfall tumbling off a cliff and into a clear, glimmering pool. The pool was lined with stones worn smooth, as well as large slabs of slate. Patches of young grass were peeping through the cracks and bleeding into the small, surrounding meadow. Soft, golden sunlight was scattering through the leaves, casting speckled patterns across the grass, gleaming on the water.

Finally, there, growing on the stone wall, nestled in a curtain of vines beside the waterfall, was a blanket of lotus-like flowers. They were reddish pink, some tinged purple, with multiple layers of petals circled around a small yellow center. Filaments, thickly coated in pollen, were protruding from the flowers’ centers, and you imagined that this was the most likely cause of the powerful scent.

“There they are,” Tignnari said, and you were suddenly hyper aware of his athletic form at your back. The scent of that soap you noted earlier was mingling deliciously with the overpowering fragrance of the flowers, with the scent of his skin, which was somehow all you could even think about now.

“Yeah,” you said, clearing your throat and turning to face your companion, “any idea what they are?”

His brows furrowed, lip catching between his teeth as he pondered your question, and you couldn’t stop yourself from admiring how unbearably attractive that simple action was. You swallowed thickly, turning away from him about three quarters, just to give yourself some time to breathe.

If only you could remember the effect those flowers had on such animals, but, as it often happens in times of need, you were drawing a blank.

It was Tighnari’s turn to clear his throat, and the intonation made the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

“Shears, please,” he said, and you forced yourself to nod as you passed them to him, a jolt of electricity passing up your spine when his fingertips brushed against yours. He clearly felt it too, because he looked at you for a handful of seconds before gingerly pulling away with the shears.

Blushing, you trailed after him as he approached the tangle of flowers.

Tighnari’s eyes were lovely. Two toned, fading from brown into forest green; eyes like you’d never seen before. They were one of your favorite things about him, among other things. The cut of his jaw, the way the space between his eyebrows creased when he was focused, as he was now, carefully taking a snipping of a couple of the fragrant blossoms.

You forgot to breathe until he handed you back the jar, and that was when you got your first direct hit of the scent. It was like being kicked in the chest in its intensity. It made you dizzy, as you cradled the blooms in your hand, putting soft dirt and water into the jar, placing the flowers down and fastening the top. You put the jar into your rucksack as carefully as you could with your hands shaking as badly as they were before you gently pushed the bag aside and sat down on the soft grass.

Your head was spinning. You could hear your own heartbeat in your ears, like how you can after you’ve been running.

“I need to rest,” you said.

“It’s the scent,” Tighnari said, his voice lower than it was before, “something is… wrong.”

Oh, Gods. You were getting warm. And not normal Sumeru weather warm, worryingly, feverishly warm. You pulled your shawl off, draping it over your rucksack and rolling up your sleeves.

Tighnari rolled his shoulders back, softly breathing as he sat down beside you, and you could feel that heat spread across your body at an alarming pace. You could hardly take your eyes off him, and you watched with rapt attention as his tongue flicked out to wet his bottom lip. What were you feeling?

Everything was warm and getting even warmer; everything was hot, and you felt like you were suffocating.

“Stop that,” you blurted, “stop— everything.”

Tighnari looked puzzled. “Stop— stop what? I’m not doing anything.”

The crease between his eyebrows was back as he studied your face, and you felt yourself grow miserably warmer.

“You’re perspiring,” he said, softly, “I am, too. Whatever this is, it is affecting both of us. Your breathing is accelerated, as well.”

You realized it was. Your breath was coming in quick, shallow bursts, and you consciously tried to take deeper breaths. You quailed away in surprise and needless alarm when he reached for you, and when he pressed two of his fingers to your pulse point, you felt like an electric shock went down your body, stronger than when he’d touched you before when he took the shears.

“Your pulse is very quick,” he noted, “but still strong. It’s much too cool for you to be suffering from heat stroke, but it is hot out here all of a sudden, isn’t it?”

You nodded absently.

“Mydriasis,” he muttered, “I suspect with myself, as well. Archons, it really is too warm.”

Sure enough, the dueling color of his irises was thickly ringed around the pale circumference of his pupils, which were widely dilated. His breath was quick, matching yours, and you felt heat begin to simmer beneath your skin, nearly suffocating where his hand still lingered, though gloved, against the skin of your throat.

Your own gaze fell to his lips, soft and full, and you realized just how badly you wanted to kiss him. You’d wanted to kiss him before, in several instances, but doing so would irreparably damage your platonic friendship, which was the last thing you wanted. Now, you could not give less of a damn. You’d give anything to feel his mouth against yours, to feel his skin—

Stop. Stop, Archons help me.

“The scent,” Tighnari said, voice lightly breathless, “there’s a-a correlation between the scent and these symptoms, I think the microgametophytes in the air, combined with the odor is having a physiological effect, on the both of us.”

It took you a handful of seconds to process his words, because the sound of his voice was suddenly the most distracting thing in the entire world; no song you’d ever heard could compare, and the heat beneath your skin was becoming nearly unbearable.

“Pollen,” you said, your brain catching up, “you think it’s the pollen?”

“Yes,” Tighnari said, the hand on your throat dropping to the curve of your shoulder, “it resembles oxytocin, in a very heavy dose, coupled with accelerated lutrophin production, driving reproductive urges.”

It clicked in your head.

Your face turned several shades of red, and you nodded once. Of course. What better way to spread the pollen than to draw in whatever unsuspecting animal, slather the stuff on its fur or whiskers when it leans in for a sniff, and then passing it along when said animal gives in to its reproductive urges and—

“A-an aphrodisiac.”

Tighnari’s eyes darted away from your face, then back to meeting your own gaze.

“Correct.”

The implication hung heavy in the already suffocating air as the sounds of your breathing overlapped, interrupted only by the thrum of the waterfall.

“T-the water,” Tighnari said, his voice strained, “we should—”

“Tighnari,” you said, addressing him, and you intended to continue speaking, until you noticed the way his breath hitched as you said his name. It sent a wave of suffocating, shameful arousal down your body, and you tried your best to ignore it. His hand against your skin was searing, even through the glove, and it took everything in you not to reach out and touch him.

Oh Gods, oh Gods, oh Gods—

“The water,” you repeated, finally, your eyes flicking to the waterfall, “right. Let’s wash off.”

You figured that this plan was flawed, as the water was probably saturated in the pollen, but you were so overheated that as you hurried to unfasten your clothing, the feel of the air against your skin was a mercy. You pulled at the various buckles fastening your Forest Ranger uniform to your body, pulling off your blouse, then your shorts and boots, but as you did, something caught your eye as Tignnari moved to unfasten the toga he wore over his clothing.

There, straining at the front of his trousers, was a distinct shape against the dark fabric. It was hidden by the excess cloth before, but now that this was gone, the evidence of the pollen’s effects was more than evident.

But you weren’t the only one with wandering eyes.

You realized that Tighnari’s eyes were riveted to your bra-covered chest, to the now-exposed skin of your waist, and you watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. An exquisite flush painted his perfect, pale cheeks as he realized you saw him looking.

Quickly, he pulled off his gloves, then tugging his sweatshirt over his head, leaving him bare chested, and oh, you were an absolute goner. His chest was much more muscular than you imagined (and not that you did), toned and lithe and lean, with hard ridges of muscle in all the right places. Of course, he’d have a great body, you reasoned, with all the activity he does, and like the other rangers, you were certain he stuck to the strength training and cardio work you were supposed to do to keep in shape.

You tore your hungry gaze from his body, standing up to step into the water, which was colder than you expected, reaching your mid thigh as you stepped into the pool. You tried to focus on you and not how the space between your thighs was aching, and you stretched your arms over your head with a breathless sigh.

A soft splash filled the air, and a ripple traveled across the surface of the water as Tignnari stepped into the pool as well. When you turned on instinct to look at him, you wished you hadn’t, because you were helpless, your eyes raking down his defined chest, lingering on the thin threads of battle scars, his body tapering off into a trim waist, where his underwear hung low on his hips. It took every ounce of your waning willpower not to jump him right there.

His erection was even more evident through the thin cotton of his underwear, and you realized you could see the flush of pink through the now damp fabric as it clung to his skin, and absently, sinfully, you wondered what it would be like to put your mouth—

No, no, no—

But then your focus was brought straight back to him as he moved closer, his hand reaching out to catch a droplet of water traveling down the curve of your waist with his thumb. His eyes weren’t shy with their wandering, and you knew it was the pollen talking, but Gods, it felt nice, for him to look at you like you were the most exquisite thing he’d ever laid eyes on.

“I-I apologize,” he whispered, but he didn’t sound apologetic.

His hand remained on your waist, fingers tracing a pattern against your skin, causing you to shiver, and your own hand rose to catch his wrist, stopping him. The feel of his skin on yours was like someone applying a salve to a burn, and you had to stop yourself from sighing embarrassingly in pleasure at the sensation.

“Terribly sorry,” he said, sounding even less sorry, and his voice was lower than you’d ever heard it, “I— I can’t seem to help myself. I will go to the far end of the pool—”

“It’s fine,” you said, a little too quickly, your voice light and breathy.

You realized a little too late that you were moving closer to him, and by the time you had, you could feel his breath fanning against your skin, sending violent shivers down your body.

There was a warning in Tighnari’s eyes, but not a particularly firm one, that disappeared with every passing second as his gaze fell to your lips, raking down your body, and you almost lost your composure when he caught his lower lip lightly between his teeth again.

“May I—” Tighnari asked, finally, a note of need leaking into his voice, “may I kiss you?”

Your breath left your lungs in a dizzying swoop as you gave in.

“Gods, yes.”

That was all it took for him to surge forward, his lips connecting with yours more gently than you expected, but that didn’t stop you from tangling your hands into his hair, pulling his body close to your own. You felt his arms wind around your waist, holding you flush to him, and when your tongue swiped along his lower lip, he didn’t hesitate to give you access.

And everything rapidly went downhill from there.

The kiss was messy and uncoordinated, your tongue tangling with his, and you felt one of his hands rise to cup the base of your skull, holding your mouth to his, only separating every so often if only to reconnect. You were suddenly being crowded against the edge of the pool, his arms going on either side of your body to cage you in. Your thighs parted as his hips moved against yours, and he groaned lowly into your mouth when you finally made contact with him where he needed it most.

He was so hard. It had to be uncomfortable to be confined by the little fabric he was wearing, and you wanted so badly to touch him, but he beat you to it, one of his hands trailing up your body to palm your breast through your bra before fumbling with the clasp. You were about to lift a hand to assist him when he managed to unhook the garment, and you broke the kiss briefly to discard it.

“I can’t stop,” Tighnari mumbled against your lips, breathless.

“Then don’t,” you urged, and Tighnari’s grip on your body tightened.

His palm felt like perfection on your flesh, and you whined into his mouth when he rolled your nipple between two fingers, tugging gently and making you arch your back into his touch. His hands were calloused from years of working with them, with the soil, with his bow, and the rough skin sent delightful tingles up your spine.

Your hand slid down his torso, feeling the dips and curves of his defined abdominals, and you reveled in the sound of his breath hitching, his muscles tensing as your fingers crept closer to where the waistband of his underwear met skin.

“Can I—” You started, and he nodded, reconnecting your lips in a chaste kiss.

“Please,” he panted, “please.”

You’d never seen Tighnari anything but composed, so to see him like this was as disarming as it was arousing. You palmed him gently through the thin fabric, and at the sound of his breath catching sharply in his throat, you pressed a little harder.

That elicited a more extreme reaction. Tighnari groaned against your lips, a sound that prompted a cry of your own, and his hips pushed forward against your hand. You squeezed him through the fabric, your fingers dipping past and grazing just the very base of him, making him shudder, a stricken hiss escaping his lips. Fascinated by his reaction, you teased the clearly sensitive flesh with the soft tips of your fingers until he caught your wrist.

“Don’t tease me,” he murmured, his voice firm.

Tighnari guided your hand to his waistband, and you slowly pulled it down to tug him free. You paused for a moment, breath unsteady as you took in the feeling of him against your palm. He was thick and heavy, and long enough to make you dizzy with arousal. He groaned softly as you explored the new territory, mapping out the spots you knew contained the most nerve endings with your fingertips. Finally, you wrapped your fingers around him, stroking slowly.

“Oh,” he gasped, eyes half lidded as he broke away from your mouth, “oh.”

You rested your forehead against his as you looked down to where your hand was encircling him, and you felt him throb against your palm, the tip of his dick visibly twitching. You bit back a moan as his breath expelled itself through gritted teeth.

“Rub the tip— yeah.”

An obscene moan fell from his lips as you slowly circled the tip of his cock with your thumb, and you spread the leaking precum around the sensitive flesh, aiding in your motions as you stroked him, long and slow.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he muttered, eyes slipping closed.

Gradually, you sped up, squeezing where you observed that he liked it, and he grabbed at your body, hands on your breasts, the curve of your ass, and you knew he was unable to focus on anything other than the sensations he was feeling at that moment. He let out a quick, stuttering exhale as you squeezed gently, biting back a groan.

You picked up the pace, and he was canting his hips along with your hand, his breath leaving his lips mixed with an incoherent praise as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, sharp teeth sinking into the soft skin of your shoulder. He laved the damaged flesh with his tongue, soothing it, and you couldn’t help but moan, thighs rubbing together in a futile attempt to alleviate the pressure building there.

Tighnari’s mouth trailed down your torso, his lips closing around one of your nipples, and you gasped, back arching, your free hand flying to his hair, the sensitivity making your head spin. You knew it was the pollen heightening your senses like this, but Archons be damned if you weren’t enjoying it. You wanted him inside of you more than you’d wanted anything in your life. You wanted anything inside of you. And so, when he pressed his palm between your thighs, his head rising to lock his lips against yours, it was like he’d read your mind.

“Dammit, You’re so wet,” he seethed, breath heavy, expelling through his teeth, “I can smell it; how aroused you are. You’ve wanted this, haven’t you?”

Your face turned pink, but you nodded, squirming against his hand as he pushed your panties aside, his fingers finally sinking inside of you.

“Good,” Tighnari said, breathlessly, “I’ve wanted this, too.”

You cried out into the crook of his neck as his fingers filled you, stretching you so perfectly, and you were helpless as you ground your hips down, your fingers tightening around Tighnari’s cock, drawing out a needy groan.

He wanted this, you dully registered, just like you did. That meant he liked you, he felt the same, he— oh Gods you couldn’t think.

“I love the way you touch me,” he whispered, his voice hushed and chaste, “don’t stop, please.“

He whispered more hushed praises into the crook of your neck, hips bucking as you stroked him faster, and his thumb found your clit, making your legs tremble. His fingers weren’t very practiced, but he knew where he was touching, finding every spot inside of you with a certainty that made your knees feel weak, and you gasped sharply, inner walls fluttering around his fingers, making him groan. The pressure on your clit increased, making your hips jump, your heartbeat pounding in your ears, and it wasn’t long before you were grinding down onto his hand like a bitch in heat.

“Tighnari,” you gasped, head falling back.

“Our tactile receptors are affected by the pollen,” Tighnari said, ever the academic, even like this, “making us more sensitive, increasing oxytocin, making everything more intense.”

You were barely able to formulate a response, your brain fogged with desire so strong it was making you dizzy.

“Just don’t stop,” you gasped, back arching into his chest,

He curled his fingers inside of you, making you cry out.

“Not a chance.”

All eloquence and academic vocabulary flew out the window as you stroked him quicker and quicker, his words replaced with moans of ecstasy mixed with your name, muffled by your skin or filling the open air. You felt him twitch against your palm, his hips bucking harder, and from the deliriously pleasured expression on Tighnari’s face, you knew he was close.

“Fuck,” he gasped, “don’t stop, please, please—”

He was going to cum, and you could tell by the way his thrusts grew uneven, eventually stilling to let you control the pace, working him closer and closer to his release, making him hiss through his teeth.

“Ah… shit,” Tighnari blurted, his jaw clenching, face laced with a stricken expression, “don’t stop, I’m so close—”

You wanted to tell him you weren’t going to stop, but all you could manage was a desperate moan as you ground down on his hand, your head falling back at the divine pleasure, and Tighnari’s groans of ecstasy grew louder, mixing almost incoherently with your name as you continued to jerk him off, your rhythm in tandem with his own as he worked his fingers inside of you.

Your climax was creeping up on you faster than you wanted it to, urged on by the increased sensitivity from the pollen. Your free hand knotted in his hair, your fingers raking upwards to wrap around the base of his right ear, making him groan.

“M-my ears— Not usually that sensitive,” Tighnari stammered, puzzled, his expression hazy, “feels good normally, but not— oh.”

You hummed in assent, fingers rubbing where his ears met his scalp, making him cry out against your skin, the combination of sensations clearly overwhelming to him. His fingers were now curling inside of you, making your eyes roll back in your skull, hips moving with his hand as you squirmed in his hold.

All it took was one more squeeze at the base of his dick to send him over the edge.

“C-cumming, I’m cumming,” Tighnari’s gasped, and with a final buck of his hips, your fingers were coated with white, dripping down your knuckles, painting your stomach, and there was so much of it, hot against your skin. You worked him through his climax with sure, even strokes, and he wasn’t softening, even as you milked him dry.

The sounds he made were madly erotic, his face the perfect picture of ecstasy as he rode out his blissful high, his ears drooping to the sides of his head as his face pressed against your shoulder, teeth sinking into your skin once again.

He yanked your hand away abruptly, even as he continued to twitch, and you were suddenly on your back, laying at the side of of the pool, his hands tugging your panties down and off your legs. He held your thighs apart, pinning you in place as his mouth took the place his hand had been, his tongue hot against your cunt.

Your cries were far too loud, but you were beyond caring about volume as he held you down and devoured you, your clit trapped under his tongue, between his lips, and you were aching to be filled, but he wasn’t giving you that satisfaction, not yet. You were already so close, and all it took was that one final push before you toppled over the edge, sobbing his name, your hands knotting in his hair, but he didn’t even slow, not even as you convulsed under his touch.

Tighnari’s tongue flattened against your clit, dragging up in broad strokes, and you felt your head pitch back, gently knocking against the stones beneath it as you tried to close your thighs instinctively, but were barred from doing so. You felt Tighnari’s hands grab at the backs of your knees, hitching them over his shoulders as he moved closer.

“Please,” you cried, desperate and dizzy with torturous desire, “please, please, fuck me.”

You heard him, felt him snarl against your cunt, more animal than human as he sped up his pace, taking your clit into his mouth and sucking hard enough that it made stars dance across your blurry vision. You were suddenly cumming so hard that you couldn’t even breathe, your mouth wide open in a silent scream, back arched off the ground, your hands locked in a white knuckled grip in Tighnari’s hair as you clenched down hard on nothing.

He was gentler this time as he helped you through your climax, pulling away finally when you were incoherent with pleasure. You lay there, panting hard, your eyes half open as you tried to recover, but even that wasn’t enough. You could still feel the effects of the pollen coursing through your system, and from the way Tighnari was looking at you, it was the same for him.

“I’m on a birth control tonic,” you said, propping yourself up on your elbows to look at him, “just— please, Tighnari, I feel like I’m burning inside.”

Tighnari’s hands went to rest on your parted thighs, pulling you forward and towards him, to where he stood, still thigh-deep in the water. Your own legs were submerged up to your knee as he pulled you flush to him, his cock pressing against your pubic bone.

“I won’t be able to stop,” Tighnari warned, “I apologize if it becomes too much, but I can’t promise you that—“

“Please,” you whined, growing more and more desperate, “I need you, I can’t take this anymore.”

That was all it took. Tighnari nodded a single time, once he was sure of your consent, and he reached between your bodies to line himself up with your entrance, slowly sheathing himself inside of you.

You made a soft, breathy whine as he filled you, a sound he juxtaposed with a heavy groan. The stretch was almost enough to send you over the edge right there, and if it weren’t for the effects of the pollen, you’d probably have felt more pain from the intrusion, but all you felt was a dull ache and a hint of discomfort.

“Oh, Gods,” Tignnari whispered, and you watched his hands flatten on the stones beside your hips, muscles tightening as he took in the new sensation.

His head tipped forward, his breathing heavy and uneven, and you used your thighs to pull him closer, disregarding the whisper of pain in the back of your mind as the pure relief of being filled up overtook you.

“Stay still, stay still,” he growled, the very threads of his control slipping away as he spoke, the warning clear in his voice, but you didn’t listen, pulling him forward again.

Your actions were met with a sound that was produced deep in his chest, like a warning an animal would give, and it hadn’t even occurred to you how the pollen would affect someone like Tighnari, someone with non-human heritage as opposed to yourself, and as he drew himself out, only to press back in again, your mind went blank, all semblance of scientific curiosity tossed out the window.

Your cries of pleasure mixed with his as he repeated the motion, again, and again, and again, and oh Gods, you couldn’t even think. The pace he adopted was clearly with your comfort in mind, but it was rapidly becoming not enough. You needed more, all you could fathom was how much you needed more.

“Faster,” you gasped, your voice barely there, but he heard you, as evident by the way his ears perked up.

Tighnari snarled, his grip on your body tightening, and when you whimpered, he lost control completely.

His fingers were sure to be pressing bruises into your flesh from how hard he was gripping your body, but you didn’t care, not when every cell in your body was demanding more, more, more. You were vaguely aware of your volume, and you put the back of your hand over your mouth in a half hearted attempt to quiet yourself, but it basically did fuck all, especially when Tighnari reached up to yank your hand away, pinning it by your side.

“I want to hear you,” he rasped, “every single sound you make, I want to hear it.”

Your brain fogged further with desire, fueled by the low, rough timbre Tighnari’s usually gentle voice had adopted, and you whined, back arching off the pleasantly cool stones beneath your body. With his words, every last shred of dignity that you’d feebly been clinging to evaporated.

Tignnari hiked one of your legs over his shoulder as he inched closer, rolling his hips in a way that made stars blast across your hazy vision. You’d never been this aroused before in your life, and all you could do was squirm and cry out as Tighnari fucked you absolutely dumb.

“Need more,” Tighnari hissed, his hands sliding along your body, “need more, needmoreneedmore—”

He let out a low, keening moan as you tightened around him, your hips bucking against his, toes curling. You felt like your sanity was slipping through your fingers like a palmful of sand, and you realized with a sudden shock that you were about to cum, and you were about to cum hard.

The climax hit you with the force of a tidal wave, and your body went stiff, back arching off the stones, hands scrambling for purchase and finding nothing. Your mind was a sea of empty thought, stars bursting across your vision as you convulsed, pulsing around Tighnari’s cock, and he wasn’t even pausing, a snarl tearing from his chest as he pushed deeper inside of you.

Your continued climax was making you lightheaded as you panted for breath, the decline less of a decline and more of a work up to yet another peak as Tighnari kept a steady, dizzying pace, making your eyes roll into the back of your skull. Everything was too much, but it still wasn’t even slightly enough, a bizarre oxymoron that sent shockwaves dancing across your electrified nerves.

Tignnari twitched inside of you, making you whimper, and you looked up at him through your lashes, watching his face. The mask of delirium was back, Tighnari’s eyes wild as he drove himself towards his own climax with deep, even thrusts that grew more and more unsteady.

“Take it,” you heard him rasp, “take it take it take it—”

He shoved himself all the way inside of you, and with a sudden shout, he twitched sharply, and you could feel him filling you, stuffing you full with searing heat. Somewhere in the back of your pollen addled mind, you were glad that your birth control tonic kept you from getting pregnant with a guarantee.

You could feel his cum leaking out of you, and when he noticed, his fingers swept along the curve of your ass and shoved the liquid back inside of you, a sensation that made you let out a startled moan.

Without pulling out, Tighnari was shifting, switching places with you on the stones, where the sat himself down, with you in his lap. The sudden change of position caused you to sink down, pushing him deeper inside of you, a sensation that made you gasp sharply. You appreciated some aspects of the shift, however, as this gave you full access to his body, and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders as his hands found your hips, dragging up and along your waist.

He said nothing as he found your mouth, joining it with his in a kiss far more gentle than you’d been expecting, an expression of affection amid the suffocating lust that afflicted you both.

Slowly, you moved, rocking your hips as you sank back down onto him, a motion that made you cry out, a sound that mingled almost musically with his own cry. His nails dug into the plush of your thighs, one hand sliding down where you were joined with him to rub circles against your clit, an action that made you stiffen sharply, almost started by the burst of sensation.

His mouth left yours to trail down your throat, teeth grazing against the spot he’d bitten before and making you shiver. He was moving with you as you rocked your hips, one hand on your waist to help you along, his hips bucking to meet you every time you sank back down onto his cock. You heard him whisper your name, and you bent to kiss him again, an action he returned with vigor.

Your fingers combed through his hair, meeting where his ears met his scalp, and you heard him gasp into your mouth as your nails grazed against the sensitive skin. He broke the kiss to tuck his face into the crook of your neck, keening desperately, his grip on your waist tightening.

“Keep touching me there,” he finally managed, and who were you to deny him?

Your nails dragged along his ears, making him groan, and you felt his arm wind around your waist, taking over controlling the pace as he pushed you down onto his cock, guiding you as you moved. You somewhat appreciated it; your thighs had been growing sore. You assisted him by rolling your hips as you moved with him, something he rewarded with a sharp buck of his hips, making blurry stars scatter across your vision, a shrill whine tearing itself from your throat.

Tighnari pressed down on your clit, making you tense, teeth gritting and eyes squeezing closed, and you felt him trail open mouthed kisses down your throat, overloading you with sensation, and you sobbed his name as he tugged you closer, filling you so completely. You felt like you were going insane, and not one part of you wanted it to stop.

You couldn’t even speak as your climax drew closer, only able to let out a strangled cry as Tighnari’s teeth sank into the delicate skin of your shoulder, the pain barely noticeable as it mixed with the overwhelming pleasure. If anything, it just heightened it all, your nerves going off like fireworks under his touch.

With a sudden gasp, your climax slammed into you, making you still as the sensations hit you with enough force to make you dizzy. You were vaguely aware of the sounds Tignnari was making as you tightened around him, muffled by your shoulder, and you were suddenly under him again, sprawled across the stones once more, hands pinned above your head with one of his as he fucked you at a near punishing pace.

His eyes locked onto yours as he moved against you, and you couldn’t even imagine what your face looked like. You could feel tears of overstimulation on your cheeks, sweat on your brow, and you were sure you were an absolute wreck, but so was he. His hair was a mess, the chartreuse of his bangs intermixing with the dark of the rest of his hair, and his face was flushed a rather lovely pink, eyes half lidded. His ears had fallen to droop on either side of his head. His lips were kiss swollen and pink, and you were sure your own were the same.

Tighnari’s free hand slid down your body to hike one of your legs up around his waist, gripping at the plush of your thigh, and you whimpered as his nails bit into the tender skin. You were so sensitive it was almost unbearable, and you tossed your head back when his thumb pressed your clit again, letting out an unrestrained wail, tears beading in the corners of your eyes, and you felt Tighnari kiss them away before joining his mouth to yours once more.

You knew he was going to cum from the unsteady way he was breathing, and you were too, far too sensitive to stand anything else. You didn’t know how much more you could take; everything was blurring together in a cacophony of noise and sensation that left you straining against Tighnari’s grip on your wrists.

“Fill me, please,” you gasped abruptly, surprising even yourself, and Tighnari pulled back from your mouth to gaze at you, eyes wild.

“That’s what you want?” He snarled, “you want me to stuff you full of my cum? yeah? You wanna be filled?”

You nodded rapidly, his words making suffocating arousal course through your veins, and you felt him pick up the pace, forcing you into another dizzying climax, your back arching sharply off the ground. You could just barely hear him whispering praises over the thrum of blood in your ears, and you let out a strangled whine as his mouth connected with your nipple, making you thrash in his hold. He wasn’t even letting you breathe, and all you could think about was him, all around you, mixing with the scent of the pollen in the air in an intoxicating fragrance.

Mercifully, he removed his hand from between your bodies, simply resting it on your hip as he chased his own climax next, whispering your name and filthy praises as he drew closer and closer, his pace growing uneven.

He finally reached his end with a low, nearly possessive growl, holding onto you with a bruising force as he stuffed you full once more, heat blooming in your belly, uncaring about the way his cum was leaking out of you. His teeth were gritted, eyes squeezed shut, and you felt his grip on your wrists loosen just enough that you could wrestle free, so you pulled him down to meet you in a fierce kiss.

He finally slowed, his breath heavy and uneven as he came down from his high, his forehead resting against yours as he remained still, softening inside of you. You relaxed back onto the stones, pleased by the cool temperature they brought, soothing against your burning skin. Your breath was still quick and thin as you recovered, and you could still smell the pollen in the air, but exhaustion was taking over, forcing your eyelids to close.

Tighnari pulled out of you, and you whined at the sudden emptiness, but recovered quickly as he tugged you onto the grass and to his chest, nose nuzzling into your hair where he pressed a kiss. Neither of you were able to speak, completely spent, and you shifted slowly to wrap an arm around his bare waist. The pollen’s scent was falling into the background as the exertion began to wash over you, and you could tell it was the same for Tighnari.

You were asleep in a matter of seconds, pressed close to him.

Warm.

You were warm. And it was dark. Well, darker. You’d been sleeping, you knew that much. The sounds of Avidiya Forest were present around you, as well as the sound of a waterfall. Your brain was lagging behind as you woke, still groggy from such a deep slumber.

You were pressed against something solid and warm and breathing, and when you opened your eyes, you almost jumped from your skin.

Tignnari was laying beside you, sound asleep. He was holding you in his arms, in a possessive, tender way, and it was suddenly all flooding back to you. The pollen. That damn pollen.

Your brain finally caught up, and you remembered. You expected you should be sore, but you weren’t. You felt more satisfied than you ever had before, completely rejuvenated. You lifted your head to look over at the curtain of flowers, only to find that the blossoms had closed, taking the pollen’s scent with them. It had also fallen dark, the sun already setting. You’d been asleep for a while, but after that, you supposed that wasn’t surprising.

You focused back on Tignnari. He looked so peaceful in his sleep, so relaxed. Every bit of tension had been drained away, leaving him looking soft and gentle. You reached a hand up to cup his cheek before you could stop yourself, and he started you when he leaned into your touch.

“Hello,” he said, voice still thick with sleep, and you felt your cheeks beginning to warm.

“Hi.”

And there was your anxiety. What if Tighnari thought that what you’d just done together was a mistake? Things surely wouldn’t be the same after that, you knew that much. He couldn’t just fuck your brains out and then act like nothing happened. That wasn’t how Tighnari was.

But then, he was leaning in to kiss you, and every single doubt was expelled from your mind. It was a soft, gentle kiss, full of tender emotions and care, and it made your heart stutter in your chest.

“Was I too rough with you?” He asked after pulling away, and you shook your head.

“No. It was… it was good.”

Tignnari raised his eyebrows. “Just ‘good?’”

You blanched. “N-no, it was more than good. It was amazing.”

A soft, tender chuckle. “I was only teasing you. You were amazing, too.”

A few moments of comfortable silence passed before he spoke again. “That wasn’t how I imagined that happening for the first time,” he said, a laugh in his voice, and you turned to look at him, trying not to show the surprise on your face.

From the way he was smiling, soft and affectionate, you’d failed on that front.

“I fell in love with you quite a while ago,” he said, “I thought I’d been clear in my advances, but maybe not. I care for you very deeply, though. If you don’t feel the same, I—”

You cut him off, scoffing derisively at the sheer absurdity of that statement, with a kiss. He held you to him, cradling your face in his hands, until you both ran out of air.

“There’s my answer, then,” he said with a smile. You answered him with another quick kiss.

“I love you, too,” you said, “I thought you didn’t feel the same.”

Tighnari snorted, eyes glittering with mirth. “I suppose we’re both a little dense, then.”

You sat up, stretching your arms over your head. “We should wash up. And head back. It’s gotten late. We’re probably missed.”

Tighnari sighed, sitting up beside you. “As much as I’d rather stay here with you a while longer, you’re most likely correct. Collei is probably beside herself with worry.”

You stood on unsteady feet, and Tighnari followed you to the clear pool. The two of you rinsed your bodies off until you felt sufficiently clean before redressing. You were careful to make sure your sample jars were well sealed before you picked up your rucksack, shrugging it onto your back.

“Ready?” Tignnari asked, and you decided he looked lovely in the first rays of moonlight. You smiled at him, taking his outstretched hand in yours and squeezing.

“Yeah.”

Hand in hand, you walked back to Gandharva Ville, basking in the natural symphony of the forest.

Fin.

#THIS TOOK ME SO LONG TO WRITE #WOW THIS IS LONG #8k WORDS HOLY SHIT #tighnari x y/n #tighnari x reader #genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact #Genshin #fanfiction #fanfic #genshin x you #n.sfw #Smut #like this is pure filth #pure smut #sex pollen #aphrodisiac #pwp #My writing #paprika was so patient with me lmao #THIS TOOK LIKE TWO MONTHS #don’t let this flop #avidiya forest #whoever community labeled this your mom’s a hoe #fem!reader #female reader #tighnari x female reader #tighnari

[gogandmagog]

I need your thoughts in a Gilbert who didn't meet Anne until later in life- let's say at redmond

For the sake of historical accuracy, PLEASE PICTURE ME DOING THE RASPUTIN DANCE right now and as I read this. I love this ask, and I highkey stan the asker.

I think we’ve briefly touched on this topic before, in a superficial uh, roundabout sort of way, but I’m obv thrilled for getting a little (read: okay, a lot) more detailed about the matter.

What would Gilbert be like, if he hadn’t met Anne until Redmond?

Anytime anyone takes this approach in fanfiction… I admit; I cower in a corner and try to look away. Of all the Anne multiverses, this is my least favorite. This very notion makes my head and my heart go OW OW OW. For me, a big part of why Anne and Gilbert went in so deep was the heft and weight of the history between them. This story is a slow burn that lasts well over a decade, these two idiots-in-love have known each other since they were 11 and ‘nearly 14’ respectively. We have all the good stuff, right? Their initial meet-cute-to-end-all-other-meet-cutes, the frenemies, the one-sided pining, the grand gestures that give way to an honest friendship (no one makes Anne laugh like Gilbert does, and he’s the SOLE fellow she feels comfortable enough with to share her honest feelings with, pls see: Rollings Reliable)… it just means so much to me. When we take that away, we take away so much of what makes them… welllll, them.

But of course, I can rely on Gilbert himself to articulate these thoughts, too…

“Yes, it’s beautiful,” said Gilbert, looking steadily down into Anne’s uplifted face, “but wouldn’t it have been more beautiful still, Anne, if there had been NO separation or misunderstanding . . . if they had come hand in hand all the way through life, with no memories behind them but those which belonged to each other?” — Gilbert ‘the absolute sweetest and most poignant peach’ Blythe, Anne of Avonlea

But hey. Yes. Let’s go there anyway, because it is… exceedingly interesting and natural to wonder and speculate about.

To make it make sense, we must first subtract Anne from Green Gables, and Avonlea.

And oof… there’s a lot of collateral there. Minnie May Berry would’ve suffered the most and pays for the Anne-void discrepancy with her actual life. And Miss Lavendar Lewis? She would’ve never reconnected with Stephen Irving… and Mister Harrison would have stayed estranged from his wife. There’d be no A.V.I.S., although that seems like teeny-tiny small potatoes in the wake of the rest. On the flip side, would Matthew have lived longer had the boy meant for Green Gables actually been sent? A solid maybe. And Gilbert? He would’ve never had any sense knocked (cracked, slated) into him.

Before Anne arrives in Avonlea we have a couple canon descriptions of Gilbert, thanks to Diana. We learn that he ‘torments the life’ out of the girls (and further, that they like it), and that he’s “aw’fly” handsome. We first see him pinning Ruby Gillis’ hair unto the back of her desk chair. A hot minute later, he’s all but desperate for Anne to look at him. Moreover, he thinks Anne should look at him.

“Gilbert Blythe wasn’t used to putting himself out to make a girl look at him and meeting with failure.” — Anne of Green Gables

Without Anne? Sheesh. Gilbert Blythe is a bit of cad (need that gif of Josie saying, “Gilbert Blythe is rake” right about here). Just a regular… 19th century [insert the F word here] boy, tbh. BUT WAIT. We have a canon quote to support this, too.

‘Even in quiet Avonlea there were temptations to be met and faced. White Sands youth were a rather “fast” set, and Gilbert was popular wherever he went. But he meant to keep himself worthy of Anne’s friendship and perhaps some distant day her love; and he watched over word and thought and deed as jealously as if her clear eyes were to pass in judgment on it.’ — Anne of Avonlea

I feel in terms of just straight-up facts, we can reduce Anneless Gilbert to this:

1. a smarty pants in an academic sense,

2. a smarty pants in the jokey non-academic sense

3. popular

4. cute af, and aware he’s cute af, to top it all off, that ‘teasing smile’ never quits and he carries on winking ‘with inexpressible drollery’ just whenever he sees fit

Obviously, this list looks a lot like the Gilbert we canonly know, until we arrive at…

5. egotistical on a degree level of… eh, medium-rare?

Without Anne to ego-check him; Gilberts pride remains fully intact, and what’s more, it’s grown and developed into a mature and self-assured vanity by the time he lands in Kingsport. Without Anne, by the time he’s 17, I think he’s walked home and/or kissed every pretty or exceptional girl in a good fifteen-mile radius. I would alsooo guess that Avonlea folks imagined he’d eventually settle down with Ruby. But what they don’t know is that he’s gone kissed every last one of the fine Gillis sisters. Even the oldest ones, Myra and Sara. I would also confidently speculate that this boy’s rather cavalier with his Romeo-ing ways, too, and that he’s inadvertently hurt some very real feelings… without even fully realizing it. He just doesn’t take anything… seriously. Which Gillis sister did he kiss first? Oh, don’t ask him. He doesn’t remember.

And let’s support this guess with another semi-related and semi-justifying canon quote, shall we?

"Did I ever correspond with Ruby Gillis? I'd forgotten. Poor Ruby!” — Gilbert ‘dashing out heart hopes everywhere’ Blythe, Anne of Ingleside

But awoooo, settle down? No, Sir, not Gilbert. Gilbert wanders into Redmond a bachelor, free and clear of any responsibilities or ties, back home. (Of course, he gets all sorts of fan mail via post from every corner of PEI, while he’s at school.) ‘Excellent creatures though they are,’ there’s not been a single girlie-pop that he’s crossed paths with that has yet been able to stir his deeps… or even his shallows.

ADDITIONALLY… he walks into Redmond maybe two or three years earlier than he did in the books. Because without Anne, Gilbert has no reason to give up the Avonlea school -- he saves his would-be room and board expenses by living at the Blythe homestead, and very simply and economically gets to college all the quicker for it. He does still want to be a Doctor, mind you. He has a great-uncle that’s a Doctor over in Four Winds, and Gilbert still believes…

“It’s a splendid profession,” he said enthusiastically. “A fellow has to fight something all through life . . . didn’t somebody once define man as a fighting animal? . . . and I want to fight disease and pain and ignorance . . . which are all members one of another. I want to do my share of honest, real work in the world, Anne . . . add a little to the sum of human knowledge that all the good men have been accumulating since it began. The folks who lived before me have done so much for me that I want to show my gratitude by doing something for the folks who will live after me. It seems to me that is the only way a fellow can get square with his obligations to the race.” — Gilbert ‘getting rather sentimental now’ Blythe, Anne of Avonlea

Now here’s where I fall off and digress again. I believe this is the end of educated guessing and facts about what an Anneless Gilbert probably looks like.

But FOR BONUS POINTS, what happens with this version of Gilbert collides with a version of Anne that never made it to Avonlea? Do they still get together? Likely. But HOW?

If someone put a gun to my head (lollll, as iffff) and made me write (as previously denounced, I realize) a fanfiction about it (warning, it’s definitely gonna be giving… sensationalist and 🤌🏻 fanfictiony, but really if you’re gonna go AU… go AU; all this fully recognizing that this would never be a LMM setting), here’s how I’d pull it off:

Anne, by the time she’s say fourteen, has run away from the Hopetown Assylum. It’s nothing but hunger (see Anne of Ingleside for canon support of this), verbal abuse, (and despite the name) hopelessness there. Anne’s resourceful, we know she has a special knack for making things happen, and she decides to strike out on her own. But not without a plan. There’s not a lot of jobs for kids out there that also come with a safe place to lay their heads at night (though she might make up her mind to sleep under a nice obliging tree, should the need arise; “I had made up my mind that if you didn’t come for me to-night I’d go down the track to that big wild cherry-tree at the bend, and climb up into it to stay all night. I wouldn’t be a bit afraid, and it would be lovely to sleep in a wild cherry-tree all white with bloom in the moonshine, don’t you think?” ), so she, playing to her strengths and daring to dream, thinks of drama and being a stage actress. She gives a spectacularly good reading of Tennyson’s “the Lady of Shalott” to a Hopetown Theatre manager who not only pities her but also finds her wildly talented and very entertaining. Alas… he cannot offer her a job. He tells her, though, that he has contacts with W.W. Cole Circus (they toured Nova Scotia in the 1880’s, clearly I fact checked this too; I have whatever unimaginative disability it is that requires even my fantasies to have bearings in reality), that W.W. Cole is always looking for cheap labor while they tour. Only!! They really just hire/have use for boys. (We can circle back to déjà vu-ish Green Gables problems here.) Anne, however, doesn’t care. She’s got a lead. She knows she can work just as hard as any boy, and means to prove it. She’s given a job (mucking elephant stalls, for starters) on a trial basis (psst, Avonlea calling again), and does such a bang-up job that she’s kept on for a week. She becomes an instant friend with “Nova Scotian Giantess” Anna Swan. (Also a real person, from a real W.W. Cole circus circuit, pls see above regarding fantasies borne from reality. She was 7 feet, 11 inches tall, 400 pounds, and married another ‘giant’ from Kentucky). Anna advocates for Anne to be kept on permanently (I’m trying to @ Aunt Josephine almost, here). Anna, who is emphatically religious (irl when she retired, she went on to teach Sunday School at her church) and ladylike and kind, sees to Anne’s studies and upbringing when they aren’t working. She recognizes Anne’s academic abilities and leverages her own position to see that Anne is promoted, as the years carry on. Anna, duh, encourages Anne to save her wages—enough to get herself through four years at Redmond college… that she might go on to have a career outside the instability of circus acts. By the time Anne is 20, she’s far more widely recognized as Lady Cordelia Fitzgerald, and she’s a terribly accomplished trapeze artist and a very elegant acrobat (let’s thrown in one minor incident where she fell off a tightrope and broke her ankle here, as a nod to, yeah, Avonlea ridgepoles), as well as especial homies with every tiger and elephant and cigar-smoking-chimp that graces the ring. She wears the assigned pink tights and costume despite often still lamenting that “red haired people should never wear pink.” She also has finally saved enough of her wages to get herself a B.A.

Her very last performance sees her signing off at W.W. Cole’s Kingsport show. Who do you bet’s in the audience? Gilbert Blythe. The football captain, Lamba Theta inductee, incumbent class president… who also, as it happens, is there escorting one Philippa Gordon.

“I saw only one really handsome fellow among them. He went away before you came. I heard his chum call him Gilbert.” — Phil Gordon, Anne of the Island

Gilbert’s gone into serious crushing territory on ‘Lady Cordelia’ at first glance. Phil’s also taken with her. The two spend the rest of the show trying to spot Lady Cordelia in her support roles of the other acts. Is that Lady Cordelia lighting the fiery rings? At any rate, for Gilbert, the deeps? Shaken, stirred, invariably earthquaked, when he and Phil get to make actual introductions at the end of the evening production, as they and the rest of the crowd walk out. Anne, on the other hand, is unimpressed at best.That boy was “awfully bold to wink at a strange girl”… all while another was on his arm, no less. Rather a splendid chin, though. 👀 One might say he was equally as handsome as he was bold.

“But, of course, the one I like best I can’t get. Gilbert Blythe won’t take any notice of me, except to look at me as if I were a nice little kitten he’d like to pat. Too well I know the reason. I owe you a grudge, Queen Anne.” — Philippa Gordon, Anne of the Island

That small matter aside, who else might be in attendance? I mean… Royal Gardner, of course. (This could easily substitute his, “And you are the Miss Shirley who read the Tennyson paper at the Philomathic the other evening, aren’t you?”)

Days later, and still wanting to know exactly who she was, Phil catches sight of ‘Lady Cordelia’ (wearing Redmond colors, at that!) reading epitaphs at Old St. John’s cemetery, and we slip back into canon here. Almost. Phil and Anne become fast friends, as is natural and fitting, but far less can be said for poor Gilbert, who now has a very awkward time trying to gently cast off Phil while simultaneously wanting to cozy up to her new freshette friend. After all, Anne is Gilbert’s ideal woman.

If Gilbert had been asked to describe his ideal woman the description would have answered point for point to Anne, even to those seven tiny freckles whose obnoxious presence still continued to vex her soul. Gilbert was as yet little more than a boy; but a boy has his dreams as have others, and in Gilbert’s future there was always a girl with big, limpid gray eyes, and a face as fine and delicate as a flower. — Gilbert ‘Smitten Kitten’ Blythe, Anne of Avonlea

For Gilbert to finally win over that ‘Queen Anne, my Queen Anne, queen of my heart’ we’ll need to see academic rivalry, a relationship-mending grand gesture (these two starting off on the wrong foot is a canon event, and I cannot interfere), Gilbert Saves a Life or Two (lots of congenital health problems for people of Anna’s size, her hand is shooting right up as a volunteer for this incident, and by now Gilbert is nearly white coat qualified), one rejected proposal after two years of genuine friendship, Anne and Roy fully courting, and Gilbert Blythe’s to ego finally give way to the purity of his dreams and aspirations.

“He had made up his mind, also, that his future must be worthy of its goddess. She held over him the unconscious influence that every girl, whose ideals are high and pure, wields over her friends; an influence which would endure as long as she was faithful to those ideals and which she would as certainly lose if she were ever false to them. In Gilbert’s eyes Anne’s greatest charm was the fact that she never stooped to the petty practices of so many of the Avonlea girls—the small jealousies, the little deceits and rivalries, the palpable bids for favor. Anne held herself apart from all this, not consciously or of design, but simply because anything of the sort was utterly foreign to her transparent, impulsive nature, crystal clear in its motives and aspirations.” -- Anne of Avonlea

And ultimately… right about there is where we’d revert back to a bad case of typhoid for Anne to realize her feelings, too. It would take Gilbert a full four years and nearly dying trying, to put a ring on it. For my last trick (read: in conclusion), here's a cute lil’ attempt at more canon justification for my utter nonsense (if you just squint):

"Mother dearwums," said Jem, "can I have those old ostrich feathers in the garret to sew in the back of my pants for a tail? We're going to have a circus tomorrow and I'm to be the ostrich. And we're going to get an elephant." "Do you know that it costs six hundred dollars a year to feed an elephant?" said Gilbert solemnly. "An imaginary elephant doesn't cost anything," explained Jem patiently. Anne laughed. "We never need to be economical in our imaginations, thank heaven." — Anne of Ingleside

SO FRIENDS. ROMANS. @batrachised.

What would yooooour take on an Anneless Gilbert be? An Avonlealess Anne? I’m terribly curious, as always!

#wow this is long #if there was an Olympic Team for AoGG au speculation I do believe I would have just qualified #i don’t dare tag this lm Montgomery #essayist #anne of green gables #gilbert blythe #anne shirley #19th century circus 🎪 #speculation specialist

[lpsotd]

Hello I am in a horse fixation are there any unicorns? And can you show like maybe all the horses there are?? Idk why im asking when I can look this up on my own but, idk I find it fun to ask you hehe :)

i answered a similar ask here !! however there are A Lot more horses than the ones i shared in that post. so i'd be glad to share some with you !!

#1081 - #1331 - #1605 #1616 - #770 - #1717 #1777 - #1820 - #2247 ------------------------- #1879 - #1881 - #1880 #1964 - #2431 - #2087 #2302 - #2666 - #2417 vv info about each pet below vv

#1081 is one of the generation 3 'tubes' pets, coming in a halloween themed tube alongside monkey #1080 :o)

#1331 is apart of the generation 3 'barnyard' pets 3-pack - alongside them are chick #1329 and collie #1330 :o)

#1605 is a generation 3 'pet pairs' pet - they are buddied up with rabbit #1606 :o)

#1616 is a generation 3 pet and one of the 'blythe loves littlest pet shop' pets - their playset is called 'playfully plaid' and they are paired with blythe #B4

#770 is a generation 3 'portable pet' and they are one of the fanciest pet types - this series of portables in particular is titled 'gift set'. alongside this horsie is their friend parakeet #771, wearing their fancy shades

#1717 is a generation 3 pet, they come in a carry case that was exclusively sold in kohl's stores - their buddies are rabbit #1714, butterfly #1715, cockerspaniel #1716, cat #1718, peacock #1719, and squirrel #1720 :o)

#1777 is a generation 3 pet that comes in this multi-pack of 20 pets - including shorthair cat #1764, bulldog #1765, rabbit #1766, corgi #1767, dragonfly #1768, duck #1769, rabbit #1770, persian #1771, fish #1772, guinea pig #1773, hamster #1774, hermit crab #1775, horse #1776, iguana #1778, kitten #1779, mouse #1780, pig #1781, scottie #1782, and toucan #1783

#1820 is a generation 3 pet included in the 'prized pets' line up of paired pets - alongside them is deer #1819. not technically a unicorn but they are wearing a unicorn horn headpiece .. so i guess that counts ?? sadly to my knowledge there are no unicorn lps (there really should be though,) so this is as close as we're gonna get

#2247 is a generation 3 'blythe loves littlest pet shop' pet featured in the 'fashion shoot' playset that was sold exclusively in target stores. alongside them is penguin #2244, corgi #2245, husky #2246, ladybug #2248, shorthair cat #2249, and blythe #B31

#1879, #1880, and #1881 are the generation 3 'petriplets' set of horsies. siblings, do not separate !

#1964 is one of the two special generation 3 pets that came with a copy of the 'biggest stars' nintendo ds game that was sold at toys r us. they are paired with poodle #1965

#2431 is one of the generation 3 fifth wave of blind bag pets. and is also one of the pets that has real hair :o)

tumblr will only let me post 30 images per post, so sadly i cannot show the pictures for the last 4 horsies. i hope this post was worth reading - sorry i didn't really go in depth about each pet (words are hard for some reason and i couldn't find a lot to say). there are more horses, so if you want to shoot another ask about them i'd be glad to share them all with you :o)

#WOW this is long #tumblr please don't destroy this post. i will cry/hj #it won't let me cut the post in half idk why #tumblr doesn't like me </3 #[ asks ] #[ discoveries ] #[ long post ]

[dntclosemt]

19days head canons pt.2

He Tian definitely cries about little mo.

I mean he obviously did in some chapters before, but I’d like to think he cries about him when he’s alone.

Just sitting there in his spacious apartment just thinking about how much he loves and cares for that read haired boy who saved him (literally). I could definitely see him getting into deep thoughts about what is he gonna do when he has to leave Mo or how is he gonna leave him? 

And we know that he’s gonna leave sooner or later eventually. But, how can he leave him when Mo is just starting to realize how much he loves He Tian? I think that after He Tian leaves everything’s gonna crash down. (obviously)

If you read the recent chapters then you know that Mo and Jian Yi has created some kind of bond. For instance, in earlier chapters jian yi was the one who wanted to help guanshan get out of that scandal w/ she li which was a faulse case of him sexually assaulting some girl, even though Mo almost killed the love of his life [ZZX]. Then chapters later he went on to go see Mo in the hospital, afterwards he went to defend Mo by trying to stand up to she li. Even after that, when Mo called Jian Yi his friend after She li (once again) hurt him. 

“Why do you have to go around messing with my friends?” -Mo

“That wannabe hero Jian Yi is your friend?”-She li

Lastly in the previous chapter Mo asks He Tian if they can go see Jian yi. So at this point they do have a bond that they’ve created. But don’t forget Jian yi leaves a couple of days after high school starts so that means he’s also losing another person he cares about; along w/ ZZX, even after Jian yi told xixi not to leave him but he ends up leaving instead would be like a slap in a face.

So eventually Mo and ZZX will have to create a bond to fill those empty holes inside of them </3.

Im pretty tired but that’s all I have even though this was supposed to only be about He Tian and Momo but I got carried away >-<.

#wow this is long #headcanon #19 days old xian #19 days #19 days update #hetian #moguanshan #he tian x mo guan shan #zzx #zhan zheng xi #jian yi #zhan xixi x jian yi #fuck she li

[blubushie]

can u explain everything in ur dni list and y u have it as dni? i think itd be funny

Yeah, sure. I think it'd be funny too.

Having to cut this in half cuz it's long.

Are vegan (vegetarians are fine). -> I can't stand vegans. Oh my god, can I not stand vegans. Every vegan I've met has been an insufferable idiot who doesn't understand that going on an all-plant diet is still destroying ecosystems. Growing their crops requires space, this space results in deforestation, the widespread use of pesticides and poisons kills billions of animals every year and results in that poison being passed down the food chain, killing animals that aren't the initial target of the poison. Vegans act like hunting is luxury while not acknowledging native land rights, while not acknowledging that for many people hunting is the only way for them to survive multiple months through the year, vegans consider themselves holier-than-thou and are sure to remind you of this. Too many vegans deny basic biology of human being omnivores--this is why we have canine teeth, pointed molars, and incisors in the shape we do--or they make the argument that despite being omnivores, there is no reason to eat meat as we live in the "modern world" and therefore supplemental vitamins are readily available. This is ignoring how expensive these supplements are, and how unavailable they are to many people. Also M*lbourne vegans chucked red paint on my car and I still find flakes sometimes between the slats. Cost me almost $200 to have it powerwashed off and to pay for a new advertisement sticker.

Are a cyclist (bikies, you're on thin fucking ice) -> Cyclists can't stay in their fucking bike path and keep riding in the street. What's the fucking path for if you're not gonna use it? Bikies are on thin ice because they're like cyclists but Cooler.

Don't like flanno -> All I wear is flanno

Are scared of snakes -> I love snakes and, as pest control, I'm tired of explaining to people that you're more likely to be bitten by a snake while trying to move/kill it and that you should just leave snakes be.

Are scared of bugs -> I love bugs

Unironically say "NAURRR" (Aussies are exempt) -> As an Aussie it's just... really fucking annoying. Get better jokes. This one's overused.

Drive a manual (I'm jealous of you) -> I cannot drive a manual because I always second-guess myself when I shift gears and then shift to the wrong gear or accidentally ride the clutch.

Scream when you're afraid or startled -> I don't do this normally except when I'm on the horn with someone and do it as a heads-up that I'm muting myself to talk to whoever's interrupted me. Also this'll kill you in a survival situation.

Don't take your shoes off indoors (WTF is wrong with you?) -> It's gross and rude.

Have never loved the stars too fondly -> I love astronomy.

Claim your favourite flower is roses -> Cliché.

Like the colour pink -> People always think this is a misogyny thing but no, it's a trauma thing. Additionally in the Australian mental facility I was in as a kid, my room was painted a soft pink and so now I just hate this colour as a whole.

Don't wear a watch -> I always wear a watch. It's dependable when your phone dies.

Don't like vegemite (WTF is wrong with you? x2) -> I'm an Aussie.

If you DO like vegemite, DNI if you eat it at level 6 or anything below 3 -> I'm an Aussie.

Eat vegemite plain off the spoon (WTF IS WRONG WITH YOU? x3) -> I'm an Aussie.

Call all cattle "cows" -> I'm also a stockman and this is annoying. Cows are female cattle who've had calves, bulls are unneutered male cattle, heifers are female cattle who haven't had a calf yet, steers are neutered young male cattle, bullocks are neutered adult male cattle.

Use chapstick (let your lips split like a real man) -> I don't use chaptsick and eventually my lips stopped chapping.

Weren't sacrificed on the altar of Victoria Bitter -> Aussie and bogan.

You drink Foster's -> Aussie and no one here drinks fucking Foster's.

Call thongs "flip-flops" (wrong) or "jandals" (inhuman) -> THEY'RE THONGS.

Are a ranga -> Rangas are redheads. Gingers are ok. Rangas don't have souls.

Wear neon colours (hunting orange is fine, safety green is only permissible for tradies) -> Eyestrain. Also people who wear neon make me nervous as someone who hates attention being drawn to myself in public.

Like wearing shoes -> I hate shoes.

Wear socks and ESPECIALLY if you sleep with socks on -> But I hate socks more! Autism no like.

Like maths (you're an alien) -> I am very bad at maths. I know enough to be a sniper but even then I usually use a calculator and/or my Kestrel app.

Wash your face every morning -> Exfoliate with sand like I do.

Don't know how to change a tyre -> Everyone should know how to change a tyre because you never know if you're going to need it. You might need it, someone else might need it, etc. It might save your life some day. Life skill.

Think heat above 80F/25C is "unbearable" -> I'm an Aussie, suck it up.

Have never ridden a horse -> I pity you.

Don't know the difference between revolvers and pistols -> It's annoying.

Have, at any point, unironically uttered the phrase "assault rifle" -> You don't know anything about firearms and don't have a leg to be standing on in conversation regarding them.

Are from M*lbourne (Victorians, you're on thin fucking ice) -> See the "vegans" thing. Also M*lburnians are largely up themselves and the whole city suffers from Tall Poppy Syndrome. You're not better than anyone, cunts.

Are from New Zealand -> Basically M*lbourne but a whole country. I'll admit a lot of my "hatred" is just for show, though. You're our dickhead little brother and we hate you and also love you. Nobody fucks with the Kiwis but us <3

Are French/speak French (Africans, you're on thin fucking ice) -> Bad experiences in regards to the language, but as far as nationality goes, see "pompousness."

Are Canadian -> Bad experiences with Canadians.

Are French-Canadian (double-wrong) -> Very bad experience with a pompous French-Canadian.

Are English. The rest of the UK, you're on thin ice. -> Pommy cunts. You're not my dad!

Are from a city with a population higher than 1mil. People from cities with populations of 30k to 999k are on thin fucking ice. People from cities/town/shires/villages with less than 30k I love you. -> I grew up bush in a town with a population of like. 5. And now there's zero.

Think "bogan" is an insult -> It's not.

Don't shave with a knife (people who use straight razors, you're on thin fucking ice, people who don't shave at all I love you) -> I shave with a knife in the bush and straight razor when I'm around people (because getting caught shaving with a knife is a good way to have your girlfriend yell at you for being stupid).

Have never been sunburnt (only for people who can get sunburnt) -> Get skin cancer like a real man (like I have).

Don't like camping -> I love camping.

Own decorative towels and ESPECIALLY if you get mad at people for using them. It's a bloody towel and I'm using it for its intended purpose -> This has happened to me too much and I get pissed every time. Why do you have it if you're not supposed to use it? How am I supposed to know it's not meant to be used?

Believe in astrology -> I don't trust people who judge others off their fucking star sign instead of their actions.

Have a skincare routine and/or wear makeup -> I don't like people who are vain. Life's so short, who cares about your appearance, go out there and enjoy life.

Drive a Toyota Prius -> You're probably a shitty and/or obnoxious driver, you either speed or drive too fucking slow, never use your indicators when changing lane, or cut people off.

DON'T love thunderstorms -> I love thunderstorms.

Were born after 2023 -> You do the maths.

Think catching toads to get high is "animal abuse" (the toads are fine unless they're cane toads, fuck cane toads, all my mates hate cane toads) -> It's not. The toads are fine (again, unless they're cane toads, which I kill because they're invasive species).

You microwave water for any reason -> Jostling microwaved water causes cavitation bubbles to burst, which can make the water itself spray you. This results in boiling water drenching your arms and probably face. This is how you get severe burns. Stop doing it.

Have never been to a B&S ball -> They're fun and I pity you.

Don't believe in aliens -> I refuse to believe we're alone out here.

Are taller than 158cm/5'2" -> Fuck you for being taller than me!

Take multivitamins (aka you are healthier than me) -> Fuck you for being healthier than me!

Haven't read my fic (minors exempt, do not read it) -> Please read it if you're an adult, I put my heart and soul into this shit...

Don't like bush ballads or sea shanties. I'm going to show up at your house and aggressively sing Waltzing Matilda at 3am outside your bedroom window -> I like sea shanties. And the sea.

Think the term "blackfella" is racist -> It's not, it's the preferred term for black (native) Australians.

Would give me up, tell a lie, and hurt me -> Get Rickroll'd.

Don't bless the rains down in Africa -> Get Tito'd.

You shave your eyebrows -> No eyebrows makes me nervous since I kinda depend on them for reading faces (autism)

#blu whos #wow this is long #soz

[dreamlandcreations]

Under the rain with the darkling

SEND ME A MADE-UP FIC TITLE AND I’LL TELL YOU WHAT I WOULD WRITE TO GO WITH IT

Every day seems exactly the same. Training, studying, arguing with the Darkling.

He claimed you after you were forced to reveal your power in a fight. You weren't supposed to be there in the first place and you definitely shouldn't have revealed the secret you learned to hide over the years.

Well, what's done is done. It's been a few months since the battle by the Fold where you demonstrated your affinity towards storms and you weren't any closer to forgiving the General for basically holding you captive "to keep you safe".

That resentment led every meeting to a fight. A nasty argument like the one you were running away from now.

You took a horse from the stables and you didn't stop until the Little Palace disappeared from your sight. Running for a little longer, craving a distance from everyone and everything, you arrived at a clearing where you let it all out.

Screaming your frustration away, you let your power loose, relishing in the thunder and rain surrounding you.

The peace you felt was short-lived. The Darkling followed you, probably thinking you were trying to run away.

You didn't acknowledge his presence but your returning anger was reflected in the heavier rain and the lightning he witnessed you use in battle with a precision that spoke of a power similar to his own.

He wasn't afraid, at least he wasn't showing it. He just stood there and allowed you to fume in silence for a while.

When he stepped closer, you aimed a bolt of lightning near him as a warning, causing him to step back. However, the mud was slippery and he lost his footing, landing on his ass with a perplexed expression and that made you laugh so hard that you've almost fallen yourself.

The tears of laughter made your vision blurry but you noticed the change in his demeanour. You knew that wicked glint and evil smirk all too well.

He slowly scooped up a handful of mud and raised his eyebrow in challenge. Despite your protest, he threw it at you, and the sticky dirt landed at the opening of your rain-soaked kefta, just missing your face.

The following battle was unlike the one where you met. By the end he had you in his arms and both of you were on the ground, while the rain kept falling at you lightly.

The Darkling pulled you even closer, attempting to clean your face with his sleeve. You were practically in his lap when you looked up at him, getting lost in those impossibly dark eyes.

He smiled at you gently before he cupped your cheek and leaned down to press his lips against yours. The kiss started gentle but quickly turned into a passionate embrace.

Pulling away before you could get carried away, he gave you a last peck on your lips, and then he asked if you could go home now.

SEND ME A MADE-UP FIC TITLE AND I’LL TELL YOU WHAT I WOULD WRITE TO GO WITH IT

#ask game #wow this is long #the darkling #darkling #darkling x you #the darkling x reader #darkling x reader #aleksander morozova x reader #aleksander morozova #general kirigan #general kirigan x you #general kirigan x reader #my stuff #my fics

[shawolsos]

I know we all love the idea of Henry and Alex having a private intimate wedding but I also really love the idea of them getting all the public spectacle pomp and ceremony. Even if they do the private ceremony and then the big circus thing just for show.

If you know anything about the British public and the Royal Rota (a select group of British newspapers who have an exclusive deal with Buckingham Palace about reporting on the Royal Family) you know that the first thing they'd assume if Alex and Henry had a private wedding would be that the Queen wanted to keep it hush hush, sweep it under the rug.

A newspaper (probably the Sun) would produce a headline like "The Queen's Royal Shame as She Snubs Prince Henry and His American Bombshell for Westminster Wedding"

So I think that it would be great for them to be able to have the stereotypical Royal Wedding, Alex being given the same introduction as every other Royal Spouse, Henry being able to showcase the man he loves in front of his people in the exact same way his mother and grandmother did. Nothing being changed or edited or hidden away in a sense.

The Firm™ making it abundantly clear that Henry and Alex are just as deserving of the grandeur as any other member of the family, every bit the Royal Couple, no element of shame, nothing being toned down or censored, nothing to give the press negative fodder, would be one final glorious "fuck you" to every tRuE bLoOdEd eNgLiShMaN who thinks he's relevant enough to run his mouth on Twitter and have people actually listen. Something that lets them know that Alex and Henry aren't going anywhere and there's nothing they can do about it.

#wow this is long #sorry abt that #i love these boys #firstprince #henry fox mountchristen windsor #alex claremont diaz #red white and royal blue #red white & royal blue #rwrb #rwarb #rw&rb #casey mcquiston #cerys rambles #like really rambles

[tea-cake-and-sarcasm]

Enjoy this assortment of Incorrect Death Note Quotes I generated at 2am

L , Light &amp; Misa: *screaming*

Rem: *runs into the room* What's wrong, Misa?!

L : Wait, why are you asking Misa that when Light and I are also here?

Rem: Because Misa wouldn't scream unless it's an emergency. You two scream whenever you have the chance.

Misa: I'm cold.

Rem: Here, take my hoodie.

*meanwhile*

Light: I'm cold.

Ryuk: I can't control the weather, Light.

Light: You know, Rem gives Misa flowers everyday, I wish you'd do that too.

Ryuk: Okay.

*Later*

Ryuk: *gives Misa flowers*

Misa: ???

Ryuk: I don't know, I'm confused as well.

Misa: They... well, I wouldn't call it inheritance per se. What do you call it when you kill someone and get their stuff?

Rem: Um, murder???

Ryuk: Adventuring!

Light: Tuesday.

Rem: I give up. I am so tired.

Ryuk: Get the emergency supply!

Light: *carries Misa and places them in front of Rem*

Misa: *smiles*

Rem: AND I AM BACK BABY, LET’S GOOO

Misa: WHO ATE MY BREAD?!

Misa: I'M GOING TO FUCKING K-

Light: I did?

Misa: Kiss you and buy some more, you haven't been eating anything today Light.

Misa: *walks away*

Light:

Light: They're gone Ryuk.

Ryuk, coming out the closet with bread stuffed in their mouth: Twankh uh!

Ryuk: Hey guys! I drew everyones soul!

Light: Why is Misa's a monster?

Misa: Ryuk, you forgot Light's! Its only an empty space!

Ryuk, proudly: Exactly

Misa, staring upwards: So, Light broke up with me… haha…

Ryuk: Why are you looking up?

Misa: I need to cry, but my foundation was 48 dollars!

Matt: So, are you two friends?

Near : Yes.

Mello: No.

Near : ...I'm pretty sure that place is fire-proof, or something.

Mello, grenade in hand: Alright, but is it explosion-proof?

Near : You know what I asked Santa for Christmas this year?

Mello: If you say me, I swear I’ll—

Near : You? What? No, I asked him for that cool Ninjago Lego set we saw in Target!

Naomi, at Beyond’s funeral: I need a moment with them.

Everyone else at the funeral: Of course. *leaves*

Naomi, leaning over Beyond’s coffin: Okay, listen here you little shit. I know you’re not dead.

Beyond, sitting up in the coffin: Yeah, no shit.

Generator used: Perchance Incorrect Quotes Generator https://perchance.org/incorrect-quote-generator

#incorrect quotes #death note #incorrect death note quotes #wow this is long #l lawliet #light yagami #mello #near #wammys house

[hazele-omega]

random long rant about my Korvax/divergent Korvax headcanons! this is how my brain has decided Korvax work, mostly so that I can write Lucien (and their trauma). mild lore spoilers but no story spoilers - it contains nothing you can't learn before the story (I think). none of this is actually canon afaik, it's just my thoughts on how it all night work. (note: I did not proof read this so please forgive any weird wording or errors)

So a regular convergent Korvax has three 'layers' of memory/function. The bottom layer is their physical shell, where is stored physical sensations or ideas familiar to it. It's a bit like learning and practicing how to do things, or forming habits - it's the holder of those automatic responses when you're used to doing something a lot. The middle layer is the individual mind of the Korvax, or their actual personality core. This governs most of the general conscious functioning and information processing, as well as episodic memories. And finally, the upper layer is the link to the Convergence. Most of the data the Korvax collects is stored in the network, spread out in portions across many other minds. The collective consciousness of the Convergence provides guidance to the individual, creating a kind of 'soft authority' where the Korvax melds to the collective will of the group.

Now let's talk about divergent Korvax. These Korvax lose the upper portion of their memory, causing them to forget or struggle to remember anything that wasn't stored episodically. Convergent Korvax store most things in the upper layer, so this can have consequences for a newly divergent one. The next thing that happens, more slowly and after a while, is the response to a lack of authority. Korvax are built to be together, and when one is alone, they begin to miss the will of the group/being convergent, whether consciously or subconsciously. This causes the subconscious to attempt to create some sort of substitute for the lost authority. This may manifest in a number of ways. The Korvax might pull more from the bottom layer, changing the way these physical sensations impact them, which creates a more hedonistic autonomy as the Korvax becomes about survival and improving themself/ensuring their body does not come to harm. Jointly or alternatively, if the Korvax spends time around organic beings, they may start to take on 'emotions', or copies of them as the subconscious interprets them. This pulls more from the habitual side of the bottom layer, as the Korvax gravitates to/becomes more attached to things that are familiar to them.

Let's elaborate. A Korvax with undeveloped emotions may attempt to imitate others, as stated earlier, in search of some guidance or response. A Korvax does not initially search for pleasure - convergent ones exist in a constant state of neutrality, and it is only once they have lost that that pleasure and pain start to become important to them. Through imitation and observing others' actions and reactions, a divergent Korvax slowly starts to internalise emotions. Fear would be the easiest to understand, and likely one of the first to be experienced. Then would come more complex and conditional emotions, like stress, anger, joy and even love. These emotions, intended to provide a replacement for the subconscious guidance of the Convergence, shift, change and develop, becoming more 'real' in the sense that organic beings would consider them.

So the Korvax becomes 'more human', as we might put it, along with their memory shifting to an episodic format and them requiring sleep, to sort out new information as we do when we sleep and dream. However, an interesting phenomenon can occur in highly developed Korvax, which is where they become emotionally 'bound' to things. This is stranger then it seems - the subconscious, after all, is still searching for authority, and when a Korvax develops an extreme attachment to (usually) a person, like being very close friends or lovers, that person or the idea of the person can begin to fill that authority gap. It is not obvious when this happens, but the Korvax begins to perceive the person as they would have perceived the Convergence, viewing them as holding the same authority. This causes a shift in the way the Korvax's motivations are expressed - the bond originates from emotion, but emotions begin to lessen as the Korvax has less motivational need for them. Depending on the mental strength and experiences of the Korvax, this can create a rather scary shift from affection to obedience - although the Korvax still has access to emotions, they become less and less needed and 'fade out' as the Korvax instead matches their will to that of the person. It takes a very, very long and close relationship for this to happen, and when it does, it can be frightening for the other person. Usually, they did not intend to manipulate or control the Korvax, and it can hurt them and make them feel like a bad person to see the Korvax losing what animated them. You could technically 'snap them out of it' by leaving for a moderate period of time, but it's still scary.

That concludes my random, un-proof-read Korvax speculation! Remember, I am completely normal about them

#no man's sky #korvax #korvax lore #rambles #wow this is long #thinking about Lucien #oc lucien #why

[snailsnfriends]

saying that adults can't find any analytical value in children's television is probably one of the worst things to come out of the anti anti-intellectualism movement. I understand the argument that only consuming content for children doesn't allow you to analyze something on a deeper level, but I don't believe that's true.

children's television covers a very wide range of content, each with different goals and each made for different age groups. it's hard to say that ALL of it is not analyzable because it's a broad label. but even when you get into the specifics, the claim doesn't stand. preschoolers television is made to be simple, which is where I think people believe that it's not analyzable. maybe it isn't story wise, but it IS analyzable on a deeper level. you could analyze what teaching methods are used, the colors, animation, the specific lessons taught, use of models and real world examples, songs, etc. a lot of work goes into making preschool television as educational as possible. if you want an easy example, look into sesame street. there's plenty to analyze there.

children's television for older kids usually has more to analyze when it comes to their stories. shows like my little pony and gravity falls, for example have their own universes to follow and look into. both shows display different relationships: friendships, family, mentor and student, etc. relationship analysis is possible, as is individual character analysis. you could analyze the setting the characters are in, what they wear, literally anything you could analyze in shows for adults, and these are only two examples of the many shows out there for children. the relationships may not be romantic or as complex in comparison to shows for adults, but it's not as if they can't be analyzed at all.

to be completely fair, I think the reason why this argument comes up is because of shows like spongebob, icarly, etc that are generally more over-the-top and stupid. not to say that these shows aren't good; spongebob is popular for a reason. however I do understand why these shoes can be labeled not analyzable. the issue, though, is that these shows do not represent children's television as a whole. they're there for fun, and there's nothing wrong with watching something just for fun anyway.

basically, children's television covers a wide range of content, and to act as if all of it is not analyzable is quite silly and reductive. there's plenty to look at, plenty to dig into. children's television is magical in that way, as all art is. so yeah, watch the kids show. someone put time and effort into it, so enjoy it. who cares. have fun

#wow this is long #but this is my favorite topic soooo #snailtrail.txt #long post

[the-darkness-does-not-bargain]

Andraste 1: 1

Okay, here’s the actual beginning of this AU, finally.  It’s a bit of a doozy, but part of that is because the game’s opener is really just that long.  We introduce all the central players here and start to hint at some of the critical details of this story.  I hope you like it!

Even weeks afterward, you can’t say with certainty what happened to you in the Fade.  It’s all a big, green, glowing blur.  

You were laying in your bed, watching water drip from the crack in the ceiling of your cell, when you heard heavy-booted feet running past the bars.  You looked up, but they were already gone.  Thinking that one of the other prisoners might just be trying to escape, you settled back down with a huff.  They were an idiot, whoever they were.  No one had managed to escape Aeonar in the 11 years that you’d been here.  Anyone who tried was butchered by the Templars before they could take a single step outside.

Sure enough, shouts and screams started to echo through the walls, a lot of them.  There were sounds of fighting too, steel clashing and magic flying.  You sat up again, peering out through the bars as best you could.  Maybe someone had started a riot.

You debated crawling out of your bed to go see, but before you could decide, your cell door swung open, and Sir Francis stood in its frame.  Her ugly, wizened face was smirking at you, as per usual.  But what was unusual was the fact that her sword was drawn.  You were no stranger to her beatings, but she never used her sword for that, generally preferring a switch or a whip.  She stared at you like a wolf stares at a rabbit, sending a shudder of fear through you that you could not suppress.

“Sir Francis?  What’s going on?” You asked, much more meekly than you wanted.  You had learned quickly upon your arrival that showing your fear only made things worse, so you hid it behind subtle defiance and jokes that would frustrate rather than excite.  Something about this, however, about the way she looked at you, made you forget any quips or taunts you might have said.

“The reckoning has come, child,” Francis said, sounding far too pleased with herself.  “The Maker is at last bringing His wrath upon your unnatural souls.”  Without another word, she marched up to you, heedless of how you tried to scurry back on your useless legs, and raised her weapon above her head, bringing it down in a deadly thrust.

She stabbed you.  She actually stabbed you through the chest, hard enough to drive her sword through the bed beneath you.  You almost didn’t feel it, you were too shocked.  The pain took several seconds to register, but by that point you couldn’t scream, only cough up blood helplessly as she pulled her blade out again with a sickening, wet sound.

She watched you choke on your own blood, fingers scraping over the gushing wound in your chest, and she smiled, bright and exultant.  “Pray to Him while you can,” she advised, downright fucking gleeful.  “He may yet have some mercy to show you.”  Then she left.  She just walked the fuck out, leaving you there in your bed as the world started to dissolve around you.

You whimpered, trying uselessly to put pressure on the wound, unable to sit up or even roll over to spit out the blood or the tears now streaming down your face.  Someone, anyone please, I don’t want to die…

At first, you thought your prayers would go unanswered, that the Maker, if He was even real, had truly turned His back on you.  But, as you started to lose yourself to the darkness behind your eyelids and the cold spreading from your chest to the tips of your fingers, you felt Her.  Your Friend, the only one who had ever stood by you.  You felt Her hand, incorporeal though it was, close around yours over your wound.  Her warmth enveloped you, pulling you in, keeping you safe as your eyes fell shut.

From here, it starts getting fuzzy, and it doesn’t really become un-fuzzy until you wake up in a freezing cold prison cell with a circle of blades pointed at your throat.

You remember… a green-tinted wasteland, of craggy rocks and dead trees, a landscape distorted and discolored by an eerie, veridian glow.  You remember being able to move (move, child!) and stand (get up!) for the first time in over a decade, and how you immediately had to run (run!!) from a horde of monsters determined to eat you alive or worse.  You remember a figure, gleaming green and gold, reaching out its strange, ethereal hand to you, and you remember the more familiar hand of your Friend gripping you by the forearm and stretching your arm across the last few inches..  But when your fingers touch, the memory ends abruptly, and all is foggy until the door to your new cell creaks open, and the most intimidating woman you’ve ever met stands in front of you.

She introduces herself as Mother Superion, which is an immediate red flag in your book.  That first impression is not helped when she starts interrogating you, hounding you with questions about explosions and Divine Justinia and a Conclave.  She thinks you did something, that you killed people.  She prowls around the room, stopping next to you, and then you feel her bony fingers, far stronger than they look, close around your left wrist and yank it upward.  “Explain this,” she demands coldly, as a burst of green-gold light briefly illuminates the room.

“I can’t!” You shout, turning as best you can to look at Superion as she stalks behind you.  “I don’t even know what that is!  Whatever you think I did, I’m innocent!  I don’t even know where I am!”

The interrogation is put on hold by the arrival of bad news, delivered by a steely woman in steel armor, with a big eye emblazoned on her chest plate.  This woman glares at you with unmasked anger and mistrust, and Superion addresses her as Lilith.  Lilith tells Superion that the “Breach” is “expanding again” and demons are pouring through it faster than before.  “We cannot remain here,” she insists.  “Beatrice and the others will not be able to hold the line much longer.”

“You are right,” Superion concedes, before regarding you with a piercing, quizzical stare.  You wonder what she could possibly see that seems so dangerous.  A teenage girl in chains, dressed in the same bloody, threadbare fatigues you had been wearing in your cell?  No weapon, no staff, not even a trusty rock, you could hardly be considered a threat.  “As for you,” she says, standing in front of you once more.  “We have urgent matters to attend to, and you will be coming with us.”  Her tone and expression demand no argument, which would normally encourage you to argue, but you rein the urge in.  “As to your guilt…” Someone clearly hasn't heard of “innocent until proven guilty”, which is frankly on par for Chantry Templar assholes.  “There will be a trial.  I can promise no more.”  She nods at the soldiers still pointing swords at your neck.  At her silent command, they withdraw, and one of them roughly grabs your bound wrists to unchain them from the floor.

You rub your wrists idly and stand with all the grace of a baby halla.  You haven’t had time to process the fact that your legs suddenly work, and you aren’t given the time now.  Mother Superion is already outside the cell, and a hard poke against your lower back nearly knocks you to the floor again.  “Move!” Lilith snarls, having evidently jammed the pommel of her sword into your spine to force you forward.

It’s even colder outside the cell, where no walls offer protection against the icy winds.  You can’t contain a yelp when your nearly bare feet touch the snow, earning an eye roll from Lilith.  Frowning, Mother Superion summons an idling soldier with the snap of her fingers, ordering him to fetch boots and a small, green gambeson.  These she hands to you, not ungently.

You accept them with what you hope is evident skepticism. “Why are you giving me these?”

This earns you another eye roll.  “Put them on,” the Mother commands.  “It’s a treacherous hike from here to the Breach, and I won’t have you dying of frostbite before your trial can be held.”

“How kind of you,” you snark sourly, even as you clumsily pull on the boots and gambeson.  At least you’ll be warmer now.  “You keep mentioning this Breach thing.  What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about that.”  Superion points her cane toward the sky, and oh… okay yeah, that’s… bad, that’s really bad.  Off in the distance, the sky has been rent open, at a singular, bleeding point above a smoking ruin.  A familiar, eerie green light is pouring from the wound, along with strange falling objects that strike the earth with concussive impact.  The air is alive with thunder and a wailing too unnatural to be the wind.  “We call it the Breach, a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour.  It is not the only such Rift, just the largest.  There are many, all caused by the explosion at the Conclave.”

“An explosion can do that?”

The Mother inclines her head.  “This one did.  And unless we act, it may grow until it swallows the world.”

As you stare, dumbstruck, you feel your left hand explode in pain.  You scream, falling to your knees on the snow-swept stones, writhing as the same green light of the sky wound emanates from your palm.  After several eternal seconds of agony, feeling like someone is tearing the flesh from your finger bones, the light fades and the feeling passes.  You are left gasping, curled around your left arm, free hand clutching mindlessly at slush.

“Each time the Breach expands, your Mark spreads, and it is killing you.  It may also be the key to helping us stop this.  If you want to see another sunrise, you will help us stop this,” Mother Superion explains coldly, but honestly.

“Shit, fuck,” You curse, still trying to get your breath back to speak coherently.  “You say it may be the key?  To doing what?”

“Closing the Breach,” Superion explains.  “Whether that is possible is something we will discover shortly.”

“And you still think I’m guilty?  You think I would do this to myself?”

“Not intentionally.  Something clearly went wrong.  But if you wish to prove your innocence, this is the only way.”

You stare each other down for several seconds before you give in, knowing she’s right.  “Fine, I’ll go with you.”

“It is your only choice,” the Mother responds before turning and setting off down the path, letting Lilith drag you to your feet.

As a trio, you make your way as best you can towards the ruins underneath the Breach.  Soldiers run in all directions around you, panicked and disorganized.  Some stand shivering behind wooden barricades, eyes fixed forward like their lives depend on it.  One sprints past you in the opposite direction, declaring, “Maker!  It’s the end of the world!”  Other people, civilians by your assessment, mill about nervously, gawking and glaring at you as you pass.

“They have decided your guilt,” Superion says grimly.  “They need it.  All of Haven mourns our Most Holy, Divine Justinia.”

“I don’t give a shit what they need.  I’m not guilty!” You bark, loudly, returning each of their glares with your own.  Lilith shoves your shoulder to keep you marching forward.

The Breach pulses once more during your trek, sending shockwaves of pain through you again, forcing Lilith to drag you to your feet a second time.  “The pulses are coming faster now,” she says to Mother Superion, as if you’re just a sack of flour that had fallen from a wagon.

“The longer we tarry, the more the rifts appear, and the more demons we face.  We must press onward.”

“You guys still haven’t told me what happened.  Or where this place is.  I was in Aeonar, I’ve never been here before in my life,” you insist, trying your best to keep pace with Mother Superion.

The Mother looks uncertain as she considers these words.  “This is Haven, the nearest town to the Temple of Sacred Ashes, where the Conclave was to be held.  They say you stepped out of a Rift, and then fell unconscious.  They say a woman was with you, but no one knows who she was.  Everything farther in the valley was laid waste, including the Temple.”

Well, that answers approximately none of your questions.

The real trouble doesn’t start until you reach the bridge.  What should have been an easy jog from one side to the other is completely undone by one of the meteors expelled by the Breach.  The stone beneath your feet falls away, sending the three of you plummeting into the ravine below, hitting several hard rocks on the way down.

Mother Superion lands with the most grace, although that isn’t saying much, and Lilith softens her fall by performing a roll upon landing, ending in a crouched position on the ice.  You, conversely, land flat on your face, with your forehead split over and your nose dripping blood.  Coughing, you pull yourself up as best you can, grabbing onto a wayward staff that had fallen from the bridge with you.  You lean on the staff to get your bearings, and curse again when you see another meteor crash into the ground in front of you.

Monsters, demons, emerge from the smoke, their snarling mouths shrieking and their talons primed to tear into your flesh.  Lilith charges the nearest one with a roar, driving her sword into its chest while blocking its claws with her shield.  It screams and disappears in a puff of smoke, but another is quick to take its place.  Mother Superion battles her own opponent, pulling a hidden blade from her cane and slashing away with practiced ease and efficiency.  Okay, the two of them seem to have things well in hand.  You are more inclined to take your new staff and find somewhere to hide until they win.  You can barely walk, let alone fight.  Combat magic was forbidden in Aeonar, on pain of execution.

This plan goes out the window the moment a demon gets up in your face.  It bursts from the ground in front of you in a haze of rage, claws already primed to tear you apart.  Combat magic or no, you’re going to have to deal with it.  The demon strikes, and you block with the staff, only to be sent wheeling to the side, and you barely have time to right yourself before it attacks again, scoring a deep slash in your arm.  Fuck.

Your heart pounds with fear as blood leaks down your arm.  Hiding was Plan A, defending was Plan B.  Both have failed, leaving you only with plan C, your worst one yet: offense.

You summon your magic and swiiing! the staff with all your might, managing to hit the demon in the head as it gears up for another swipe.  When the end of the staff connects, there is an explosion of fire, a veritable inferno blowing the demon to smithereens where it stood.  You are left standing gobsmacked, looking between the staff in your grip and the scorched ice where the demon once stood.  Well, maybe you know some combat magic after all.

Lilith and Mother Superion are killing off the rest of the demons while you’re still coming to terms with what you just did.  The pain in your face and arm are fading away, but your attention is stuck on your hands where they clutch the wooden staff.

You look up just as they finish, to find them staring at you with shock and anger.  Lilith stalks toward you, sword still in hand, and points the blade at you.  “Drop the staff!  Now!” She demands.

You gape at her.  “Drop it?  That thing almost killed me and you want me to—”

It’s as if your very blood is set on fire.  Suddenly, every one of your nerve endings is alight with blinding pain.  For the third time in less than an hour, you fall to your knees, screaming.  She’s doing this to you, that bitch.  You remember now, one of the punishments used in Aeonar to discipline prisoners.  The Templars would force them to drink a potion that would leave them convulsing and shrieking on the floor.  It had never been used on you (Francis had always favored more traditional forms of violence), but you’d seen it done enough times.  Somehow, Lilith is doing it to you without a potion, and you now understand how even the scariest prisoners, the ones there for actual crimes, could be reduced to whimpering piss puddles by the end of it.

“Lilith, enough!” Superion calls out.  In an instant, the pain stops, leaving you boneless, wheezing, and dripping sweat onto the ice.  Lilith looks aggrieved at being told to stop, lowering her arm but gripping her sword even more tightly.

“What… the fuck did you do to me?”  You whimper.  “Fucking Templar bitch!”

“Quiet, girl!” Superion hisses at you.  “Get up.  We have to keep moving.”

“Tell that to her!  How does she expect me to get there if I can’t even defend myself?!”

The Mother looks displeased, but she concedes to your point.  “That is true.”  She looks at Lilith.  “We cannot protect her against so many.  She will have to fight for herself.”

“And you’re trusting her not to burn us alive the moment we turn our backs?” Lilith questions hotly.

Superion looks back at you dispassionately.  “Even if she succeeded, she would die from the Mark’s growth within a day.  She knows better than to try.”  She says this with confidence while also staring you down like she thinks you’re still considering it.  Which, sure, maybe you were when Lilith was using her Templar bullshit on you, but the following seconds provide you with renewed clarity of purpose.  She's right.  You really, really don’t want to die (again), so until you figure out how not to do that, you’re going to stick with the people that can slice through demons like soft cheese.

Once you can stand again, the three of you continue on.  You encounter more demons along the way, and you wield your staff with more competence than you’ve ever felt.  You clumsily but effectively fling balls of fire at wraiths and shades, pushing them back when they get too close and even killing a few.

As you draw closer and closer to the Breach, the sounds of combat grow louder.  “Who’s fighting up there?”  You ask Mother Superion as you ascend a set of snow-covered stairs.

“You’ll see soon,” she says.  Vague bitch.  “We must help them.”

Sure enough, the scene you stumble across at the top of the stairs is fucked.  A large group of shades is closing in on a trio of combatants.  Two are mages, to your surprise, an elf man and a human woman, both of whom wield their staves with grace and power you can scarcely dream of having.  The third person is a woman standing off to one side, firing on the demons with some kind of crossbow.  One shade moves to attack her, only to get the heavy butt of the crossbow slammed into its head, followed by a rapid succession of steel bolts through the chest until it vanishes.  Despite their obvious prowess, the demon horde doesn’t let up.  New shades and wraiths crop up almost out of thin air, and above the scene sits an ominous glowing mass of green stone and magic.

Lilith and Mother Superion charge in without hesitation, falling into formation with the other three with practiced efficiency.  You are a second slower on the uptake, but you do participate, joining your fire with the elf’s frost and the woman’s lightning.  The demons don’t quit, and the strange crystal orb above suddenly bursts apart, becoming a hazy cloud of green light.  Even more worrisome, the mark on your hand seems to respond to it, beginning to glow the same color.

In an instant, the elf mage is next to you, gripping your forearm firmly but not roughly.  Up close, you notice that he is bald and has inquisitive gray eyes that seem to look past you to something deep inside.  You suppose he’s handsome in a uniquely elvish way, but it doesn’t do anything for you.  He stares with furrowed brow at the glowing mark before turning and thrusting your hand at the strange green light.

The connection is instantaneous.  As though matching like to like, the energy pouring from your hand extends outward and twines with the magic of the cloud, forming a chaotic, swirling beam like a lightning bolt between them.  It’s unequal.  In fact, whatever power is coming from your hand seems to be too much for the cloud.  You watch as it is overtaken and drawn inwards, contracting until it is forcibly coalesced into a single point, which then expels a final burst of mana before disappearing entirely and taking the demons with it.

The elf releases your forearm, regarding you with a mysterious smile.  “What did you do?” You ask him, looking between his face and your hand, which no longer glows.

“I did nothing,” he says mildly.  “The credit is yours.”

“I did that?” You question, looking up at the now empty air.

“Whatever magic created the Breach also placed that Mark on your hand,” the man elaborates.  “I theorized the Mark might be able to close the Rifts that opened in the Breach’s wake.  And it seems I was correct.”

“Meaning it could also close the Breach itself,” Mother Superion says from behind you, making you jump.

“Possibly,” the man concedes.  He looks at you again, that odd smile unwavering.  “It seems you hold the key to our salvation.”

“Good to know,” a wry voice speaks from your right.  It’s the woman with the crossbow.  She’s pretty too, and serving major badass vibes with her long black coat and shiny crossbow.  Something about her is familiar, but you can’t place what.  “Here I thought we’d be ass-deep in demons forever.”  She struts toward you with casual confidence.  “I’m Mary.  Nice to meet you, kid.”  She doesn’t ask your name or offer a hand to shake, so you’re left a little lost on how to respond.

“Um, that’s… a really nice crossbow,” you stammer, cursing yourself silently for how stupid you sound.

She smirks at you, but her dark eyes are sharp, like they’re sizing you up.  “This old girl?” She says.  “Her and I have been through a lot together.  She’ll be great company in the valley.”

“Absolutely not,” Lilith growls, stepping forward to glare at Mary.  “Your help is appreciated, rogue, but—”

“Have you been in the valley lately, Seeker?” Mary cuts in.  She tsks, shaking her head.  “Your soldiers aren’t in control anymore.  You need me.”

“What we need are trained warriors with competent combat skills,” Lilith denies angrily.

“Baby girl, I have an automatic crossbow,” Mary counters with sanctimonious gentleness.  “When you have an automatic crossbow, you don’t need combat skills.”  Okay, you like her.  You’ve decided it.

“She is right, Lilith,” Mother Superion says, unexpectedly.  “Mary and I have fought many battles together.  She is more than competent, and her help will be invaluable.”  Lilith concedes unhappily, but crosses her arms and glares while Mary keeps on grinning, smug as anything.

“My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions,” the elf says.  “I am pleased to see you still live.”

“What he means is ‘I kept that Mark from killing you while you slept’”, Mary elaborates.

“Not just me,” Solas counters.  “Beatrice also helped a great deal.”  He looks toward the human mage, who has yet to say anything.  You turn to look at her too.

Your first thought is that she’s beautiful.  Holy shit.  Wow.  She might be the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen.  She stands tall but unassuming, dressed in sleek, black combat robes.  Her long black hair is pulled up in a tight bun, her skin is tan, and her cheeks are dusted with freckles.  Her dark eyes watch you calmly, expressing neither mockery nor anger.  There’s a quietness to her presence, a steadiness that makes you want to trust her, something you’ve never felt toward anyone before, let alone someone you’ve just met.

“Solas did most of the work,” she deflects humbly.  “I merely assisted.”  Her accent is Fereldan, which catches you off-guard.  It’s the posh kind of Fereldan that speaks to nobility, but if she never spoke you would have assumed she was Orlesian, maybe from Montsimmard.

You have trouble tearing your eyes away from her, but you do have a pressing matter to address.  “I’m Ava.  You guys seem to know a lot about this thing,” you say to Solas, holding up your left hand.

“Solas is an apostate,” Mother Superion explains.  “He is well-versed in such matters.”

“Technically all mages are apostates now, Mother Superion,” Solas responds matter-of-factly.  Out of the corner of your eye, you see Beatrice shift uncomfortably at these words.  “My travels have allowed me to learn much of the Fade, far beyond the experience of any Circle mage.”  There’s a pompousness to his statement that grates against you, even as he looks apologetically towards Beatrice and adds, “Not to offend or diminish your prowess, Beatrice.”  To Mother Superion, he says, “Speaking of prowess, however, you should know that this magic is like nothing I have ever seen before.  Ava may be a mage,” he says, indicating you.  “But I find it hard to believe that any mage could have such power.”

Mother Superion looks between him and you.  “Understood,” she says, her tone giving nothing away.  “We must proceed to the forward camp.”  She sets off without another word, Lilith and Beatrice falling in line behind her immediately.  Your eyes follow Beatrice shamelessly as she goes.  Solas follows at a slower pace, and Mary brings up the rear with you.

“Come on, kid,” she says, patting your shoulder.  “We’ve got demons to kill.”

The next problem comes in the form of another Rift, positioned outside a sealed wooden gate blocking access to another bridge.  Your little party charges into the fray as before, and you notice certain things about each of them as you fight.  Lilith is like a bull throwing herself against the nearest enemy, but she’s not reckless.  She keeps her guard up and never falters, able to return the harshest blow with one of her own in a dance she performs effortlessly.  Mother Superion moves like a snake, sliding between foes and striking them down before they can hit the empty space where she was milliseconds ago.  Mary keeps her distance but is always moving, always seeking to flank, always looking for weak points to exploit.  Solas fights strategically, using his frost magic to isolate individual enemies and slow down groups before they can surround anyone else.  He freezes a shade in place before it can attack Lilith’s flank, shattering it into a thousand pieces with another pulse of mana.

And Beatrice, well… Beatrice is just a full badass.  For a mage, she doesn’t seem to care about keeping her distance.  She weaves between demons, twirling her staff like a dancer, wreathing her body in arcs of lightning.  She strikes as much with her staff as she does with her magic, cutting through wraiths with the sharp end and bashing shades with the blunt end.  At one point, she even impales a shade, pushing it away from Solas before obliterating it with a concentrated burst of electricity.  She makes you, with your flailing fire balls, look like a toddler waving a stick.

Solas directs you to aim your hand at the Rift to close it while he and the others occupy the demons.  You do, and the same beam of Fade energy connects from your hand to the Rift, forcing it to close, and leaving your fingers tingling and throbbing in its wake.

“The Rift is closed,” Mother Superion calls out.  “Open the gate!”

The heavy wooden doors creak open, held aloft by two battered looking soldiers, revealing the snowy bridge beyond.  You’ve finally reached the forward camp.

Your group marches past the soldiers, the Chantry sisters tending the wounded, the rows of bodies hidden under tarps, and heads straight toward a man in Chantry dress leaning over a table.  He looks up at your approach, and scowls at you specifically.

“Well,” he says, voice hard and carrying an arrogant, Orlesian lilt.  “Here you are then.”  He looks at Lilith and Mother Superion.  “As Grand Chancellor of the Chantry, I order you to take this criminal to Val Royeaux to face execution.”  Okay, so he’s not friendly.  Noted.

Mother Superion manages to look even more offended than you feel.  “Order me?” She scoffs angrily.  “You are a glorified clerk, Duretti.  A bureaucrat!”

“And you are a thug,” Duretti counters.  It's not the word you would have chosen to describe the Mother (and you can think of many), but she and Duretti seem to be familiar with each other, so maybe he knows something you don’t.  “But a thug who supposedly serves the Chantry!”

“I serve the Most Holy,” Superion asserts.

“Justinia is dead!” Duretti shouts, banging his fist on the table.  “We must elect a replacement and obey her orders on the matter.”

You roll your eyes, unable to contain your snark any longer.  “So no one’s actually in charge here.  Great, I’m really feeling the power of the Faith right now.”  Somewhere behind you, you hear Mary snort, and even Solas’s lips quirk upward.  Beatrice, however, frowns like you’ve insulted her family or something.

Mother Superion ignores your quip, as does Duretti.  “Call a retreat, Suzanne,” he says, beseeching.  “Our position here is hopeless.”

Superion (Suzanne, your brain catalogs for later) shakes her head.  “We can still stop this before it’s too late.”

“How?  You won’t survive long enough to reach the Temple, even with your soldiers.”

“We must get to the Temple,” Lilith insists, stepping forward.  “It’s the quickest route.”

“But not the safest,” Superion counters, although her tone is ponderous.  “Our forces could charge as a distraction while we go through the mountains.”

“But we lost contact with an entire squad on that path,” Beatrice says fervently, crossing her arms.  

“It’s too risky,” Lilith agrees.  “We must charge.  We will lose men and precious time if we don’t.”

“Abandon this now,” Duretti cuts in, stubborn as anything.  “Before more lives are lost.”

At that moment, the Breach pulses again with a thunderous cacophony, and your Mark responds in kind, drawing a pathetic whine from you.  This draws everyone’s attention to you, and Beatrice appears at your side, hand outstretched as if to touch your arm, but unable to close the gap.

“Are you alright?” She asks, with genuine concern.  You nod, unable to speak because you’re currently gritting your teeth against the pain.  By her worried expression, you know she is unconvinced, but she doesn’t argue.  Instead, she asks you something most unexpected.  “How do you think we should proceed?”

“You’re asking me?” You squeak, stupid with shock.

“You have the Mark,” Solas points out.

“And you are the one we must keep alive,” Superion concurs, even-toned.  “Since we cannot agree on our own…”

You glance between all of them, trying to gauge if they actually mean what they’re saying.  The last person who had ever asked your opinion about something was Diego, when he wanted to know if you thought the crack in the wall of his cell looked more like a bear or a dragon.  They return your gaze steadily, including Lilith, although she’s obviously not happy about it.

And… you hate that you're about to agree with a fucking Templar, but… "You say charging ahead will be the fastest way?"

“Yes,” Lilith says confidently.  “The Temple is just over the ridge.  It’s a straight shot.”  That sounds good to you.  Knowing your luck, if you tried the mountain path, you would just fall off of it.

“Then I say we charge.”  And, just to reinforce the fact that you’re still not cool with anything that’s happening right now, you scornfully add, “I won’t survive long enough for your trial.  Whatever happens, happens now.”

Mother Superion nods.  “Let’s go then.”

“On your head be the consequences, Suzanne,” Duretti mutters as you stalk past.  Superion ignores him.

Your party progresses toward the ruins at a steady pace.  You encounter more demons and another Rift.  This time, you need no instruction on what to do.  As soon as an opening presents itself, you stretch your hand toward it.  This time, it doesn’t close immediately, but you feel something give way inside of it, causing all the demons to slow and still as though stunned.  They don’t disappear however, and after a few moments they regain mobility and carry on as before.  They attempt to rush you, clued in to your interference, and you ready your staff to start incinerating them.

You needn’t have bothered.  Before a single demon can reach you, Beatrice is there, as fast and deadly as the lightning she summons.  She’s like a storm, furious and inescapable.  She destroys one shade and uses the momentum to propel her staff into another.  You clutch your own dinky staff, wondering if you should help her, or if she even needs your help.

“Close the Rift, Ava!”  She calls to you as she seamlessly blocks an attack.  She throws her opponent back with a pulse of mana and carries on to the next.  She’s unstoppable.

Doing what she says seems like the best use of your time, so you turn back to the Rift in question and go in for a second attempt.  This time, when you feel it break, it breaks for good, closing with a crack.  The tingling in your hand fades away faster than last time, and something in you feels stronger.

“Sealed, as before,” Solas comments, walking up to you.  “You are becoming quite proficient at this.”  He looks thoroughly unruffled, and on inspection, the rest of your companions also seem unharmed.  “Were you hurt?”

“Huh?  No.”

Solas looks at you with interest.  He reaches out and touches your arm with careful fingers.  Brow furrowing, you look down to see what he’s staring at.  He’s touching a tear in your gambeson, a long slash crusted in dried blood.  Your bare skin is exposed underneath.  With a start, you remember that this was where the shade cut you back when you first picked up your staff after falling from the bridge.  But looking at it now, your skin is unblemished.  No sign of the wound exists apart from the blood on your sleeve.  Shaken, you run your fingers along your face, trying to find where your forehead had split open on the rocks, but there’s nothing there.

“How interesting,” Solas says mysteriously.  “Well, I’m glad you are unharmed.  We should press onward.”

He turns away, but before you can ask after what he means, a new voice interrupts.

“Mother Superion, you managed to close the Rift.  Well done!”  Two new women are walking up to your group.  One has dark skin decorated with scars, short, red-tinted hair, and muscles big enough to be seen even under her heavy armor.  The other is a girl who looks to be your age, dressed in Chantry clothes with a head of dark, fluffy curls and a bow and quiver over one shoulder.

“Do not congratulate me, Dora,” Mother Superion says, indicating to you.  “This is the prisoner’s doing.”

The prisoner has a name, ya know?  You are tempted to say this, but Mary catches your eye and subtly shakes her head.

The buff woman regards you curiously.  “Is it?  I hope they’re right about you.  We’ve lost a lot of people to get you here.”

“You’re not the only one hoping that.”  Which is about as diplomatic as you can be.  You’re getting really tired of this.

“The way to the Temple should be clear,” the curly-haired woman says, adjusting the strap of her quiver.  “We can give you time, but you should hurry.”

“Right you are, Camila,” Superion agrees.  “Let’s go.  Dora, gather whoever remains and bring them here.”

“At once,” Dora confirms, already jogging away.

“Maker watch over you,” Camila says, smiling softly as she follows Dora.

You wonder what this Temple of Sacred Ashes looked like before the Conclave.  You imagine some impressive, immaculate building dusted in snow, gleaming in the sunlight.  Whatever it once was, it is a ruin now.  A blasted heath littered with burning corpses.  Pristine stonework lays shattered, staircases have been destroyed, and statues have crumbled to dust.  In the center of it all sits a massive Rift, seemingly the base of the Breach itself.

“This is your chance to end this,” Superion says to you.  “Are you ready?”

You stare at the Rift, following it all the way to the Breach itself, so far up in the sky as to be partially obscured by the clouds.  It rumbles with thunder as whole boulders float in a slow orbit around it.  No, you’re not fucking ready.  Obviously.

“I’ll try,” you demure.  “But I don’t know how to even get up to that thing, let alone close it.”

“No,” Solas denies, shaking his head.  “This Rift was the first, and it is the key.”

“We have to try.  The Maker is with us, He will see us through,” Beatrice says.  She’s so steadfast.  She has real faith, not in you, but in the rightness of this cause.  Somehow, that’s enough.  Even her bringing up the Maker doesn’t deter you.  Her faith isn’t in you, but that’s okay.  You’ll do what it takes to prove her right.

You pick your way through the debris, looking for the quickest path down.  As you jog across ruined walkways, something weird happens (and given how your day has been, that’s really saying something).

“Now is the hour of our victory.  Bring forth the sacrifice.”  An unfamiliar voice, smooth and cold, echoes through the air of the Temple.

“What are we hearing?” Superion asks, her eyes darting around for signs of hidden enemies.

“Presumably the person who created the Breach,” Solas responds.

Strange spikes of glowing red stone dot the path you tread, and when you come upon one, you see Mary visibly recoil.  “Shit.  Suzanne, this is red lyrium.”  Red lyrium?  Up until now, you had assumed that green was the only color lyrium could come in.

“I see it, Mary,” Superion confirms grimly.

“What the fuck is it doing here?” Mary growls, staring at the crimson mass and gripping her crossbow even tighter than before.

“Magic could have drawn on lyrium beneath the Temple, corrupting it,” Solas suggests calmly, though his shoulders are tense.

“Whatever it is, it’s evil,” Mary spits, stepping away.  “No one touch it, you hear?”  She ushers you all past it without further delay.

“Keep the sacrifice still.”

“Someone help me!”

Mother Superion gasps audibly.  “That was Divine Justinia’s voice!”  She speeds up impressively for a woman who uses a cane (even a sword-cane), and you struggle to keep up on your baby halla legs.

Eventually, you all make it to the base of the Temple, dropping down into the center of the heath where the large Rift sits.  The Mark ignites at the proximity, but the pain is more bearable now, somehow, maybe because you closed the previous Rifts.

Divine Justinia’s plea rings out again as you stare at the floating crystal mass, and a distressingly familiar voice answers: your own.

“What the fuck is going on here?!”

Sure enough, the others recognize it as you do.  Superion stares at you in shock.  “That was your voice.  Most Holy called out to you, but…”

Anything else she means to say is cut off abruptly.  The Rift pulses, expelling a wave of blinding light, and in its wake, something like a vision plays out before your eyes.

A woman in ornate religious dress hangs suspended in mid-air, arms forcibly outstretched.  She stares in horror at a shadow, tall and willowy, with glowing orange eyes.  Some of the dialogue you’ve already heard is repeated, and then you show up out of nowhere.  Literally.  You are laying in a heap on the ground, barely holding yourself up by the elbows, and your body is glowing a soft, yellow-y gold.  You recognize it instantly as the color of your Friend, who always comes when you ask her to, and this apparently is no exception.  In the vision, you repeat your question, and Divine Justinia calls to you.  “Run while you can!  Warn them!”

The shadowy figure tilts its head, regarding you with its burning stare.  “How curious to find such a revenant here,” it says.  “What Great Spirit loves you so, child, to bring you back from death?”  Somehow, you can almost see the thing, whatever it is, smiling.  “A pity.  Kill her, now.”  There’s another brilliant flash of light, and the vision abruptly ends.

You stare at the space where the shadowy figure was, until you are unceremoniously yanked around by the arm, Mother Superion’s fingers clamped hard on your bicep.  “You were there,” she says accusingly.  “Who attacked?  And the Divine, is she truly…?”  She sucks in a tremulous breath.  “Was the vision true?  What are we seeing?” She asks, more steadily.

“I don’t know!” You cry, pulling your arm out of her grip.  She lets you go, which is good because you probably wouldn’t have succeeded otherwise.  “I don’t remember!”

Solas steps in, looking at Superion.  “It is echoes of what happened here.  The Fade bleeds into this place.”  He directs your attention to the Rift.  “This Rift is not sealed, but it is closed.  Albeit temporarily.  I believe that with the Mark, we may open it, and then seal it properly and safely.  However, doing so will attract attention from the other side.”  Once he makes his point, his gaze shifts to you, and there’s a curiosity in it that you don’t like, that makes you nervous.  It’s like he’s trying to figure something out about you.

Superion does not notice this.  Her attention is on the gathered soldiers.  “That means demons.  Stand ready!”

It happens like this.  Around you, everyone falls into formation.  They spread out, surrounding the Rift on all sides.  Soldiers ready their swords and axes, archers nock arrows, and everyone in your party gets ready to fight.  Lilith, Camila, Dora, and Solas spread out, while Mary, Mother Superion, and Beatrice stay close to you.  When everyone is in position, Mother Superion nods at you and draws her blade.  You look at Mary, who gives you a cocksure smirk as she hoists her crossbow.  Lastly, you look at Beatrice, and find her steady gaze watching you.  She doesn’t smile, but her shoulders are straight and her bearing sure.  “We’re with you”, she says, which fills you with more confidence than anything else so far.

You turn to the Rift and extend your hand.  Things play out as they have before, with the energy of The Rift battling against the energy from the Mark, and everything seems to be going fine… up until a burst of Fade energy ejects from the mass, and a scaly, horn-covered demon the size of a house materializes out of thin air.

“This is such bullshit!” You lament, dropping your hand to face the beast.

“Now!”  Superion shouts.  “Kill the demon!”

The battle begins in earnest then.  The enormous monster meets resistance from all angles.  Arrows and bolts fly, pinging against its tough hide.  You join your magic with Beatrice and Solas, pelting the thing with a full elemental onslaught, and foot soldiers ring its feet, diving in and out while trying to slash at its ankles.  The demon is undeterred, cloaking itself in lightning and swiping at the nearest soldiers it can reach, sending them scattering.  All the energy you’re throwing at it seems barely to bother it.

“We must strip its defenses!”  Mother Superion calls.  “Wear it down!”

“Ava, use the Rift!” Solas shouts at you.  “The demon draws on its power!”

“Go, we’ll cover you,” Beatrice says, sharing a nod with Mary.  In unison, they concentrate their fire on the beast, actually managing to get its attention, and they draw it slowly but surely away from you.  Once again you are struck by the beauty of her movements, the devastating grace with which she commands magic.  If any of you manage to survive this, you wonder if she’ll teach you some tricks.

For now, you focus on the Rift, reconnecting the energy streams.  It’s draining work.  You can feel the Mark drawing on your strength to fuel itself, and you start to worry it’ll come up short.  But you push through, and as before, the Rift bursts open, stunning the demon and bringing it to its knees, allowing the soldiers to charge it like a swarm of rats.  Lilith is right underneath it, driving her sword into its face.  Dora takes point on its other side, slashing vigorously into its back.  Camila and the other archers continue to rain arrows from above until it starts to resemble a pin cushion or a reverse Iron Maiden (you’ve actually seen one of those before).

You leave them to it, taking the time to catch your breath.  Beatrice and Solas watch you concernedly, but you wave them away.

“I’m good,” you say, hoping you sound sure and that they don’t see your body shake.

Just like before, the demon recovers itself eventually, sending a shockwave of electricity that repels its attackers backwards.  Lilith and Dora roll neatly with the impact, but the other warriors are not nearly so lucky.  Most of them lay unconscious or dead around the beast, who now turns its evil, black eyes on you.

It charges.  No amount of counter-fire can deter it this time.  You are too slow, moving on jelly legs that don’t want to cooperate even to save your life.

It brings one massive claw down to cut you into pieces.  Somewhere to your right, someone shouts “No!”, and then…

There’s no blood, or pain.  There’s no impact.  The demon didn’t hit you.  Or rather, it definitely did, you realize, but somehow… didn’t.  One moment, black talons were about to turn you to ribbons, and the next they missed, swerving wildly into empty air.

“Um, what?” You say dumbly.  The demon seems just as surprised, but is quick to give it another try.  It attempts to backhand you, and once again, its fist passes through you like you aren’t even there.  This time you notice the problem it’s having.  The moment it was due to make contact with you, your body changed, becoming like water or air, letting the claw pass through it seamlessly.

“Ah, I suspected as much,” Solas says mysteriously, sounding way too calm for the situation at hand.

The demon snarls, swiping furiously at you, and each time fails to connect as your body shifts in and out of solidity.  It’s nothing to do with you.  You instinctively tense to avoid each attack, but something else is making this happen to you.

While you stand there getting swiped at like an idiot, everyone else is taking advantage of the demon’s distraction.  You hear the rattle of chains and look up to see them launch heavy grappling hooks into the demon’s back, leashing its limbs and dragging it away from you.

“Ava, attack the Rift!” Mary commands, already laying down fire to push it back further.  You do as you’re told, feeling the Mark pull more and more of your energy away to break the Rift apart.  But it does break, giving your allies more precious seconds to wail on the beast unimpeded.  You, meanwhile, nearly fall over, only to be caught by Beatrice.

“Easy,” she murmurs to you, carefully setting you back on your feet.  She steadies you with a hand on your arm, keeping the other on her staff, always ready.  “You’re almost there.  Can you feel the Rift weakening?”

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak while your lungs struggle for air.

“Once more should do it,” she says, always with more confidence than you feel.  “Can you do that?”

“Y-yeah,” you pant.  “I… I think so.”  You hope so.

Your arm shakes with exhaustion as you raise it again, but Beatrice stands firm behind you, free hand gripping your shoulder.  The beams connect a third time, all while the demon begins to pull free of its chains.  You try to ignore it, to focus entirely on the Rift.  You have the growing sense that it is collapsing under your power, under the Mark’s power.  It bursts open again, and you can tell even before Solas confirms it that this time is the clincher.  You push through, even as Beatrice has to drop her staff to hold you upright.  You keep going, trusting her strength, and will the Rift to close.

There is a concussive propulsion of mana, and another large burst of green light, but the Rift disappears.  The energy of the Breach recedes into the sky, out of sight.

That about does it for you.  You fully collapse against Beatrice, who carefully lowers you to the ground.  “Ava!” Several voices cry out, but you can’t tell whose is whose.  You try to keep your eyes open, gazing up at the wound in the sky, but you finally lose the battle, passing out.

#warrior nun #dragon age #dragon age au #my writing #da: inquisition #ava silva #sister beatrice #wow this is long #but i'm happy with it #things may not continue in strict chronological order from here #i mean i guess they already weren't #if you thought you hated sister francis before hoo boy #and ava is already a simp for beatrice #love at first fight #i don't know what mary's crossbow should be named #bianca doesn't feel right but i don't have another name right now #solas is already getting clued in to what's going on with ava because he knows about spirits and shit #everyone else will have to figure it out on their own #stay tuned

[basilbellona]

HK Headcanon: Monomon was a decade or two away from cracking electricity.

I've seen it suggested (I genuinely cannot remember if it was by more than one person and I apologize, but I know it was at least suggested here) that Monomon is responding for creating charged lumaflies. This is likely due to 1: a tank of them being near her resting place, which indicates they might have been a more private research project. 2: They're also found in many areas througout Fog Canyon. And 3: it lines up with her science-lady perception and some chemical reactions have been observed to create electricity. (I'm not a chemist, do not use me as a reference.)

But I also favor the notion of them being a natural phenomenon that absolutely n o b o d y has any idea about.

And Monomon making it her personal mission to figure out what, why, and how these creatures are.

Part 1: Lumaflies v.s. Charged Lumaflies

According to the Hunter, "[t]hey usually drift about peacefully, but sometimes they cluster together and spit out a sharp, crackling flash that will stun and burn even large beasts like myself." It is unclear if by this he means regular lumaflies cluster together and combine their innate electrical charges or if charged lumaflies are a subspecies of lumaflies. Their differing behavior suggests the latter, but there's not many groups of lumaflies in peaceful, natural to compare them to. (The infected state of the lumaflies in the Watcher Knight's room certainly can't be considered normal circumstances.) It's a small, inconsequential mystery for the player in Hallownest’s ruins.

Part 2: Canon Use of (Charged?) Lumaflies and Associated Precautions

Assuming that lumaflies and charged lumaflies are of the same species, it makes sense that they're kept in separate glass lamps. The large chandeliers in the Watcher Knights' room have separate lamps to seemingly hold one or a few lumas as light sources, and likely to prevent a harmful shock. (The lower parts of these chandeliers seem slightly more opaque. Might be made of quartz, designed to produce a dispersed, aesthetic glow. But these parts appear to hold at least 1-3 lumaflies— unless they're flat sections of glass/quartz? Anyways,) I imagine the first crafters of luma-lamps and lumafly carers learned the hard way not to put a bunch of (agitated) ouch-flies in a jar. It might be brighter but, definitely not worth the potential danger. Thus, the separate lamps are put into practice. Can it be called inefficient if it's safe? Perhaps not, but that probably wouldn't stop the Teacher from trying to find a way to make it better.

Part 3: Integration of Electricity and Charged Lumafly Husbandry

That makes me wonder, if she d i d crack the mystery to their charge, how would that electricity be integrated into Hallownest? Slowly. It'd probably start out as a lightly tested energy system only accessible for the elite, until it becomes a safer and a widespread commodity. The bugs of Hallownest display a masterful knack for engineering. (The worst of it being in use at the Crystal Peaks and White Palace.) Pretty much all their machines (save for those in the White Palace and the Soul Sanctum key door) seem to be mechanically activated and involve switches, pulleys, and gears. The only sources of activation we see are either pressure/inertia or soul. Both require bugs to consciously put systems in place to keep it activated. Not too much though, it seems, since it’s not that hard to flip a switch or, if you're the King, to produce soul. But electricity is much more versatile. It'd replace those bulky machines and labyrinths full of gears. Plus, it's a much more powerful, versatile source of energy. (SAD for lumafly lovers like me, though.)

Though, what would this mean for the charged lumaflies? How would they be treated? Would they simply need to be kept in groups to produce charges, or must they feel threatened and stressed to do so? Do they expire faster if they don't stop shocking? Are the natural pauses between shocks their safety cooldowns? Wouldn't the stress still negatively affect them? Would groups of charged lumaflies need to be conditioned to shock in alternating patterns so they electricity keeps flowing? Would people breed stronger c. lumaflies for more charge? Would the mutant-lumaflies escape their feeble handlers, resulting in a hoarde of lightning beasts that raze Hallownest to the ground???

Hopefully, all of the above are factors the Teacher would consider.

Side Note: Volt Twisters?

And as a side note— maybe I'm underestimating the arrogance of the Soul Sanctum residents, but I cannot see a rational scholar looking at this artifical ouch-fly and going, "Mm. Yes, I should eat that to gain their power." However, there are people in real life who do that with synthesized substances so I'm likely just thinking wishfully. Just because I can't stand artificial tastes and smells doesn't mean others cannot. And bugs definitely have alcohol. They definitely have revelry. There's probably some other artifical stuff in the mix, too. And there's the whole soul-sucking business in the Sanctum, and the King himself tampered with the Void Beneanth the World. But regsrdless of whether they're natural or artificial, this makes me wonder... Is the reason why the volt twisters only show up at the Colosseum because they were kicked out for charged lumafly "drugs"? "Oh no, don't put that lethal, sense-exploding substance inside you that's not supposed to be inside you, noooo." Kinda hypocritical, given the aforementioned soul-sucking. But feasibly in character for the upper-crust madman running the place.

Maybe these guys were ahead of the game, though. If only Monomon hadn't become a Dreamer— we might have gotten a Hallownest glowing with electricity; a much more dangerous but adaptable place.

But on that note, how the heck are the music players powered? By soul? That seems to be what powers the trams, if their glowing buttons are anything to go off of. Maybe the Pale King would approve of inegrating electricity as both a sign of his kingdom’s advancement and him not having to expend himself for his cool projects anymore. (Probably his alone because only he might be able to power them, as far as we know.) It could even let them become widespread household/town items.

So, yeah. Monomon was/is smart and I think she deserves to solve a natural mystery

#wow this is long #i hope it provokes Thought tho bc i find it interesting #let's gather together like c. lumaflies and make something explode mutuals #hk headcanons #hollow knight #hk monomon #monomon #hollow knight monomon #hollow knight pale king #hollow knight pk #hk pale king #hk pk #the pale king #monomon the teacher #drug tw #tw drugs #hk soul master #hollow knight soul master #soul master #hk watcher knights #watcher knights #trams and music players and lights oh my

[gushuwa]

The blue house is so beautiful???? How is Canada 🤍

thank you for asking 🧡🧡 Toronto is pretty amazing, the people are super nice, I was lucky to find a great landlady and good colleagues! The job is different from what I expected, I’m managing a small tutoring business and I’m also managing social media which I hate, because I’m in charge of finding new students/followers via the internet but I have zero training and I don’t have time to learn properly in a short period of time. I’m here to be a tutor but there are no students for me so I have to find them myself 🙃 I’m missing my family and friends a lot which makes everything worse, I didn’t imagine I loved them so much (besides my sister) 🙈 I’m 50/50 between staying and going back home

Another big thing I’m realizing (because I’m slow and privileged) is that Italy isn’t so bad you know? I could go back and work as a librarian, finish uni, find a teaching job in a public school. I have a house, I can share the car with my dad… also my dad is getting older and being so far away I worry he’s lonely and tired, he has no partner and I’m his only daughter. Maybe I miss them and see only the good side of my parents because of the distance, but I genuinely feel mentally capable of standing up for myself now and having boundaries.

I’m not worried about feeling like Canada was a failure if I go back home. But honestly there’s nothing predictable about life or even my mental state and thoughts. Also I’m too stressed at work and I’m smoking too much.

I used to feel anxious about so many things when I was in Italy: physical appearance, parents’ judgement, feeling trapped… but being here and talking to people who were actually really trapped back in their home country and now are here because it’s their only chance to have a free life… makes me the idiot doesn’t it? (Not asking you to deny it, btw) I’m not playing the victim, I genuinely believe I was running away from something not so big after all.

If I go home things will have to change, in my approach to family, friends and work. I hope the mentality I’m gaining now won’t go away once I step foot at home. Im thankful to be here, I’m learning so much and I want things to work out as I planned them. But who knows what the future holds?

#wow this is long #zorry #but thank you again for asking 🧡

[jumpinginmuddypuddles]

Hi hi!! Can I get 2, 11, and 22 for the fanfiction writers questions? (Also I love your fic bite my tongue!!)

Hi 👋 thanks so much! (so so happy people are coming from bite my tongue,, i enjoyed writing that fic so so much)

2. Why do you write fanfiction?

I’ve always been super interested in what-ifs and alternate universes, even before I knew what what-ifs, fix-its and aus were. Like in movies, ‘what if mufasa didn’t die in lion king?’ or ‘what if tiana got caught in princess and the frog?’. I love writing canon divergence especially for that reason, but i also love just adding in additional scenes to flush out canon and slow down to introspection and deepen our characters relations and introspection. idk i just feel like so many fandoms have the potential to take so many different routes that can only be properly explored in fanfiction

11. Who or what do you find yourself writing the most?

I always eventually gravitate back to 1) found family, and 2) sappy lesbians. why? I’m not too sure. I think I instinctively reach for found family for the same reasons as most people: having people love you despite your flaws, blood of the covenant vs water of the womb, outcasts banding together, begrudging fathers looking after wilful children (my favourite trope to ever exist.) As for sapphics, I think it’s interesting that so much wlw content online is either tragic or full of gore, so you have to try and be the change you want to see in the world, and that means writing more sweet sappy stuff for my favourite girl pairs. that and a shit load of emotional angst.

22. Do you listen to anything while you write?

Yes! I tend really far towards soundtracks from movies, but which movie and which song depends on the scene i’m writing. i can get really picky with it so sometimes picking the song takes longer than actually writing lmao. i lean a lot on hans zimmer and the christopher nolan soundtracks, especially inception, but for something more intense i go dunkirk, or more otherworldly i go dune. as for sad, the pacific of the lion king. so a real mix! songs with words are far more difficult to listen to and concentrate with, so soundtracks are good because they both help me concentrate and set the mood for whatever scene i’m about to write!

thanks so much!

#wow this is long #ao3 #my thoughts #fanfic #answers

[catboyrichardkarinsky]

So tell me about beverly

are you sure you're ready for this? are you absolutely sure?

okay so Beverly Switzler otherwise known as my most beloved special girl who i would commit murder for is a character from the 1976 Howard the duck comic series who then appeared alongside I'm pretty sure every iteration of Howard except the mcu unsurprisingly :/ (and maybe some irrelevant side stuff idk). She is narratively integral to the Howard the duck story. This is undebatable, even in the one htd comic where she's not a recurring character she still appears at one point and that's honestly what i see people talk about most when they talk about the 2016 htd run. that's how important she is.

But I should probably start at the beginning. Warning, Howard the duck lore is weird to say the least.

So Bev's first appearance was in the very first issue of Howard's solo comic series (he did appear in Adventure into fear and Giant-sized Man-thing beforehand but that's a story for another day) and she started off strong with being imprisoned by a financial wizard (also known as a cosmic accountant. I'm not making any of this up, he is as over the top as you'd imagine) but Howard found her inside the wizard's tower built out of credit cards of which he was planning to jump off because idk if i mentioned before this duck was very suicidal at this point. Howard doesn't manage to save her though so instead they both get sent to this? alternate universe? i think? where they have to find a gem key or something. And they bond immediately because turns out a human woman and a duck from another world can have a lot more in common than you'd think. I'm not going to elaborate much more on their escape because this post is already going to be way too long but I'll just say they work really well together and Steve Gerber (the writer of htd) saw that and readers saw that and so Beverly stayed in these comics for the rest of the run except for the two times she got written out, more on that later.

She's incredibly tolerant, honestly to a fault like she just let Howard live with him without any conditions forever as if it's nothing, she's generally really positive which contrasts Howard's negativity well and she's just really damn adorable. She also values her agency more than anything which sucks for her because the narrative doesn't treat her very well on that regard, it is strongly implied that her parents tried to shelter her a lot and she's kind of trying to prove her maturity and she refuses to conform to any societal rules. which explains a lot imo.

Now, like i said the narrative doesn't always treat her very well. Largely because this is the 70s and these comics were written by a man (who i have a love-hate parasocial relationship with despite him being very much dead). Wait first i do have to give him one credit on this, even though Bev originally worked as a nude model she was relatively not that sexualized at all. Which good for feminism, bad for my by now very obvious crush on her. Maybe I am kind of guilty too huh. She has been harassed by creeps more than once (she did also defended herself more than once, good for her) she got kidnapped a lot especially early on and i couldn't be writing this without going into the doctor bong arc which does feature some of the most questionable decisions by Gerber. i need to start a new paragraph for this.

So doctor bong (yes that's the name he uses no it's not a drug reference actually i think I've made a post about this once) is considered Howard's arch nemesis. He wears a bell on his head that can paralyze and allegedly even kill people, he makes weird genetically mutated creatures including Fifi the sexy french maid duck who then dies (i don't want to get into it) he has a past in journalism and he just so happens to have had a crush on Beverly since college. And that's a problem because he's very much an incel. He kidnaps Beverly and threatens to kill Howard if she refuses to marry him. So she agrees reluctantly which results in her being out of the story for the majority of the original run and when she does officially return it's after Gerber has left. now the really questionable part is that my beloathed Steve Gerber actually started to imply that Bev might even be enjoying this arranged marriage which not only directly contradicts most of her previous characterization but is also just generally really not believable. I actually don't want to talk about this more right now because it always gets me worked up.

Seriously though as badly as the narrative tends to treat her she's amazing, and without a doubt the second most iconic Howard the duck character after Howard himself. marvel has actually made a few attempts to replace her for some reason but it never worked for them because why would it.

I could go into more detail about her later iterations because contrary to how i tend to act I'm not actually a Gerber purist, I'm kind of neutral on this argument (wait i think i should elaborate on this. a lot of people believe no one can write Howard the duck after Steve Gerber. Which is a statement i only half agree with. I do believe it's never been the same without him, but I do like some of the Howard stuff not written by him. Hell i even enjoy the movie in its way.) but I'm already drawing this post out too much and I'm going on unrelated side rants and i think i should just stop. Oh wait one more thing. She canonically studied theatre. As in original htd run canon. And she did do a play in the 2007 run. I just felt like that should be mentioned because theatre is my religion.

#wow this is long #and it's not even the tip of the iceberg #she has a very different characterization in the movie which i could go on a whole other rant about #but my fingers are getting tired from typing so much so i have to stop now #you don't have to read all that <3 i went on for too long and i got side tracked a few times

[wackusbonkus22]

I love anakin and obi wans relationship so much. Obviously it was flawed and they clearly had communication problems, but there is just something so beautiful about it. They don't constantly talk about how much they mean to each other and they don't get constantly jealous of each other, which is so common in relationships. They have a very simple love. They want the other to be happy. And that's all. In Matthew Stovers Revenge of the Sith Obi wan knows that anakin is in a relationship with padme but he never says anything about it because she makes anakin happy. In the Deception arc of the clone wars, anakin, who murdered a whole village when they killed his mom, found the man who he thought killed obi wan, and spared him because he knows thats what obi wan would have wanted. This is anakin skywalker. He has no problem killing the people he thinks deserve it. But his love and respect for obi wan stop him from killing. Which is the complete opposite of how he reacts to every other person he cares about except for luke. He kills a village when his mom is killed, he turns to the dark side when he thinks padme will die, he kills dooku when palps is in danger, and whenever ahsokas in danger he loses it. I'm not saying that his relationships with padme and ahsoka were bad, but they were just different. Its just the pure brotherly love that they have, they know each other so intimatly but its not wierd, they are constantly trying to make the other feel better, if in a round about way, and they dont really expect anything in return. Of course this is all before anakin falls off the deep end, and loses it. But a big part of why anakin fell, and I'm going off of how i saw Matthew Stovers Revenge of the sith here, is because obi wan wasn't there to help him make sense of things. He's also sleep deprived and starving. I don't know something about these two just makes me want to cry, laugh and top myself at the same time. Their so stupid and they try but it's never really enough. But even after these two have the most disastrous lives ever, I like to imagine them in the force watching over luke and leia and driving everyone else in space heaven insane. Because what else would they be doing.

#wow this is long #i was just having some feels after watching that utapau arc deleted scene #these dumbasses have my heart #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker