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elexuscal · 5 months

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Ficlet prompt idea! Interactions between ART and Pin-Lee and/or Mensah in the time after NE but before SC.

More thoughts if you wanted more inspiration than a single line. Does Pin-Lee teach ART some new curses ('cause ART curses alot more in this book, and I wanna blame Pin-Lee like how Rhatti mentions the overlap between MB and Pin-Lee's curse vocab)? How great would their banter be, lawyer vs know-it-all-AI?!

Is ART still kinda shy/excited by meeting Mensah?

Thank you~ I really love your work!!!

Awwww thank you very much!

Oh man i was so spoiled for choice here but i really really struggled to think of an interesting take on this

Big thank you to @specialagentartemis who i paraphrased a significant chunk of this from as well as general Vibes

Asshole vs Asshole

So here's the thing. Here's the fucking thing, okay?

Twenty-three days. Twenty-three fucking days of waiting, of worrying, of preparing. Of nearly chewing her own arm off. Of thinking she was walk into a fucking blood bath.

And the Preservation Alliance rescue team finally gets to the scene of the crime, and no one is dead. Which is fucking good, obviously. Okay. She gets it. No one's dead, no one's lost any limbs, and praise the dark gods of yesteryear, no one has even been kidnapped. This is literally better than the best-case scenarios they concocted.

But surely, surely, Pin-Lee can't be the only one who thinks it is fucking weird to be having tea with the person who did the kidnapping in the fist place?

"Thank you, Perihelion," Ayda says, as a shiny blue drone finishes pouring tea into a cup. Just a whiff and a glance is all Pin-Lee needs to know it was brewed exactly the way Dr. Mensah prefers it.

The drone turns to hover to her. It pours a drink into her own mug. Pin-Lee glares at it.

Ayda doesn't look at her, doesn't so much as tilt her head. But they've worked together for a long, long time now, and Pin-Lee nonetheless reads the subtler body language. She grinds out, "Thank you."

She sips the drink. It is coffee and it is extremely bitter and it's warm-but-not-quite-hot and Pin-Lee has a sneaking suspicion it is at least a few hours old.

[You're welcome~] Perihelion's trills as the drone zooms away.

Peri. Fucking. Helion.

Turns out, it's the one that orchestrated this whole thing. The super-secret advanced spaceship that SecUnit apparently befriended while it was off on its journey of self-discovery or whatever decided that it knew exactly who could handle its little pest control problem, and hadn't much cared which innocent civilians got stuck in the cross-fire.

"There were extenuating circumstances," SecUnit had explained, face set like it was ready for a fight.

"It's all fine, water under the bridge," Ratthi had said. "No harm done really."

"Except for the new layers of fresh trauma," Overse had groused.

"But we're handling that, too," Arada had said, with a too-bright smile. "And it's a good thing we're here to help the colonists."

"Yeah yeah and you should see ART's hydroponics bay, it's super cool," said Amena, tugging on her arm.

So suffice to say she was kind of getting some Mixed Signals about this whole thing.

But okay! Corporates descending to steal the livelihoods of hundreds of innocents! Fine! There's a lot at stake! And this is what Pin-Lee is good at, and (sort of) what she was dragged along to handle, so she is willing to put this all aside for the greater good.

Pin-Lee sips at her under-handed-insult coffee and reads over the legal feed documents of this whole cluster-fuck of a case. "Okay," she says at last. "Okay, this is salvageable. But I'm going to need to some more info before I can fully revise this.."

"Of course," says the captain of The Perihelion, a note of genuine relief in his otherwise professional voice. "What do you need?"

"1: A full list of all the symptoms associated with the contamination, and its speed of spread. That'll influence what level of breach this is classified under. 2: Estimates for all of the colonists deaths that were directly caused due to their being stranded. 3: Monetary evaluation of all the colonists' remaining assets..."

"Of course," the captain agrees

Which is fine. Except fifteen minutes later some teenager not-much-older-than-Amena shows up and hands Pin-Lee a stack of paper.

"What's this?" Pin-Lee says, her eyes immediately skidding off of the hand-written tables and charts.

"That's our evaluation of the colonists' assets, like you asked for," the teenager (Turi?) says.

Pin-Lee looks at Turi, to the papers, and back at Turi again. "Can I get this in the feed?"

"Well.... You can..." Turi says, a bit of red in their cheeks. "But..."

"But no guarantee the numbers won't be doctored there," calls Karime from the other side of the lounge.

Teeth grinding in the back of her mouth, Pin-Lee manages, "What?"

[My numbers are perfectly accurate,] Perihelion protests. [It is hardly my fault if none of you are capable of following the calculations.]

Martyn snorts. "It would help if you bothered explaining all your sources."

[Find them yourself.]

Pin-Lee can barely believe what she's hearing. "Are you telling me... that your AI keeps fucking with the numbers so bad that you need to get a teenager to do the accounts by hand."

"I'm not a teenager, I'm twenty-three." Pin-Lee huffs; as if that's a meaningful difference. "And I'm a very, very good accountant." Turi pauses, then admits, "But that's the long and short of it, yes."

Pin-Lee can't help it. She drops her head to the table and hides it under her arms.

[Do you have a problem with this state of affairs?] the very aptly re-named Asshole Research Transport oozes in her private feed.

[You really don't need me to answer that.]

[You're right. I don't.]

She uncurls her finger and makes a rude gesture. Presumably one of its thousands of cameras will see it.

That summons SecUnit into the conversation. [Are you two fucking with each other again?]

[No,] they say in unison.

[Cut it out,] SecUnit says, and then drops away. Truly a master of conflict resolution, that one.

'I'll cut it out when you learn to make nicer friends', she almost sends, but catches the obvious come-back and stops herself. Instead she takes sip of her shitty coffee and gets to work trying to interpret hand-written accounts.

#murderbot diaries #network effect #system collapse #i want nothing more than ART and Pin-Lee to get on like a house on fire #'is that a good thing or a bad thing?'#yes #don't worry having someone to snipe at is enrichment for both of them #fanfic

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storiesbyrhi · 7 months

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Witch!Reader x Bat/Vampire!Eddie Munson Series Masterlist The Grimoire The Timeline

Warnings: canon typical violence, horror genre typical violence/some infrequent gore, swearing, animal death, no beta, death in childbirth (mentioned, not described), abusive parents, suicide, warnings updated each chapter.

Synopsis: No witch has stepped foot in Hawkins since 1845, but when Vecna opens the ground and poisons the town, a voice begins to call to you. Have you been brought back to this cursed place to heal the townspeople’s wounds, to save a hexed bat that always finds its way to you, or to redefine your history with a reunion 150 years in the making?

Chapter Summary: Before death. 3170 words.

1986

Led Zeppelin.

Talking Heads.

Public Enemy.

The Grateful Dead.

Brian Eno.

The Clash.

Metallica.

New Order.

N.W.A.

The Cure.

Tori Amos.

Black Sabbath.

Cat Stevens.

Patti Smith.

Fleetwood Mac.

There were a lot of cassettes in your car. Eddie looked through them with interest. Some were store bought, their original sleeves intact, and some were mix tapes you’d made yourself.

“This is the more modern stuff. It’s easy to fall behind when you live so many lifetimes. So, I try to update what I’m listening to every decade. This is mostly 1970s and 80s,” you told him.

“Where shall we begin?”

“With hair like yours… Metallica?”

Key turned in the ignition, you ran the car and pushed the cassette into the player. Fight Fire with Fire began, the first few bars melodic and calm. Then, it kicked in. Eddie flinched at the noise, surprised but not alarmed.

He leaned forward, like he was trying to decode something hidden deep within the music. Slowly, a wide grin crept across his face. He snapped to face you. “What is this?” he demanded in pure delight.

“This is music,” you replied with a casual shrug. “Specifically, this type is called metal,”

“I like it.”

Eddie looked like he was going to cry when For Whom the Bells Tolls played. Like the guitar riff and gothic sound effects were going to heal the undead body he lived in. Fade to Black made the vampire melt into his seat. He laughed then held a hand out to you. You took it, letting him thread his fingers through yours.

“I do not know what happened to me. But if it was the only path I could have taken to being here in this… car… with you and this music, then I am glad I took it,” Eddie said, closing his eyes before you could respond with expression or word.

You watched him for a moment. Something about him like this – relaxed, weird, beautiful – made you want to squeeze him. Dig your nails in. Bite to test for firmness. It was muscle memory, you realised. Your mind didn’t know Eddie, didn’t remember him, but your body acted as though she’d been by his side forever. It was too easy.

“Since we’re already in the car, should we go get you some more appropriate clothes? Maybe some other supplies too?”

One of the large neighbouring towns had a Walmart that had just been built, and it boasted 24/7 opening hours.

Eddie opened his eyes and cocked his head. “Little witch, are you attempting to court me?”

You laughed. “Are you asking me if I’m asking you on a date?”

“A date,” Eddie repeated. He was a quick study. “Little witch, are you asking me on a date?”

He expected you to blush or groan with denial. The anticipation of your reaction was written all over his face. You’d not play into his trap so easily. Instead, you shrugged and casually replied, “What if I am?”

Eddie couldn’t control his face entirely; his eyebrows shot up and he smiled. “Then ask,”

“Eddie the unhexed, my mortal enemy, will you accompany me on a date to Walmart?”

…

1587

At the age of twenty, Edward felt old. Although he had only graduated from his teenage years days earlier, as he stood on The Lion’s deck face to face with the Atlantic Ocean, he was weary.

His mother had died in childbirth, which was not uncommon. The world hadn’t begun to record statistics on such occurrences, but all things averaged, eighteen of every hundred women would perish before the birth day of their baby was done. Likely, it was much more.

Edward’s father looked at him like he was the murder weapon of his wife, life-taking and constantly reflecting a bloody image back at him. He treated his son worse. Not as a loaded pistol or sharpened axe, but as a contagion. The plague or measles. Typhoid or smallpox. Something that elicited disgust, a disease to rid himself of at the very first chance.

Edward was sold to a farmer at age seven, destined to a life of hard labour and loneliness.

However, Edward was a fighter. He fought the conditions of his gory birth. The miserable childhood. And the farmer’s distrust of him around his daughter, Lizzy.

He didn’t have eyes for Lizzy. He kept his head down, tended to the animals, worked the land, and waited to be released from his workman’s contract. For eleven years, the farmer underfed Edward. He staved off malnutrition through the kindness of the farmer’s wife, the only person the farmer treated worse than Edward.

He was beaten and broken in, the subject of the farmer’s displaced rage at not fathering any sons of his own.

On the morning of his eighteenth birthday, Edward stood at his post expectedly. The contract was done. He had earned his freedom. Perhaps there would be an offer of legitimate farm work, which Edward would decline regardless. Perhaps a parting gift of a letter of recommendation. Perhaps simply a nod of acknowledgment. But nothing came.

He knew better than to go inside the family house, but by mid-morning, Edward couldn’t shake the feeling something was wrong. Slowly, quietly, he crept in. Lizzy had grown up and left the farm, but there still should have been the noise of the wife.

The quiet was worse in some rooms than others. Edward followed the silence to the study.

The farmer was sitting in the corner of the room, curled up as if he weren’t the God-fearing iron-fisted master of the house. His rifle was held under his chin, ready for suicide.

The wife was sprawled out on the floor, eyes open and fixed on the ceiling, bleeding from somewhere Edward could not immediately see.

“Is she dead?” the farmer asked.

Edward didn’t move.

“This is your fault, boy… Look what you made me do.”

It didn’t matter that it wasn’t Edward’s fault. A second dead mother would haunt him.

The gun went off, Edward flinched, half expecting to feel the bullet pierce through his body. His eyes were screwed shut and he was terrified to open them. He stood in the void of unknown for an entire minute. He counted the seconds in his head, one… two…, while he tried to imagine how he could have been the catalyst for the violence.

The sight of the farmer, face torn off and entirely limp, was seared onto the lens’ of Edward’s eyes forever.

On the desk was the contract signed when he was seven. His father’s signature had faded, the sign of cheap ink. Other documents were strewn around, including some that indicated to Edward that it was a possibility the farmer had no intention of honouring the contract’s end.

Among the papers, Edward found the key to the safe that was hidden beneath the staircase. Inside was what he considered to be a small fortune, but to the farmer it was pocket money. Edward took the cash, knowing he was incriminating himself, and returned to his post. He slung his one bag over his shoulder, took a horse, and never returned.

For days, weeks, and months after, Edward sat on the cusp of calm, always expecting to be hunted down and hung for a double murder. After a year, he slipped from the cusp and into a sense of normalcy.

Edward found work in Plymouth, the port city home to enough taverns and underground establishments that he could choose between the kitchens or the brawling rings. He could butcher a pig as easily as he could take a punch. Ultimately, he earned the most when he picked up the lute and made music.

Despite landing on his feet, Edward lived in solitude, afraid that any woman he loved would meet an early death, and any man he trusted would turn on him for no reason. He went by the name Wayne, simultaneously distancing himself from his past while tying himself to it. Edward had only met his Uncle Wayne once. He had come for him when he was four, claiming that he could care better for his sister’s son than Edward’s father ever could.

When Edward was free from the farm, he considered trying to find Uncle Wayne. His father has ensured he knew nothing of the man though. He wouldn’t have known where to begin. Taking his name was all he could do.

For two years, Edward eavesdropped on the comings and goings of sailors, pirates, and kingsmen. In June of 1586, he heard of the return of ships from somewhere over the sea. They had run out of provisions. The attempt to colonise had been a failure. Next year. That’s what he had heard. Next year, they’d try again.

Edward felt, for the first time in his entire life, that he knew where he should go. The Lion’s manifest read Wayne Munson, birth 1567, and set sale on May 8 1587 with Governor White at the helm.

Sea travel was horrific. Edward was violently ill with motion sickness, his skin itched as the salt water dried on him, and he spent more time picking splinters out from under his nails than doing almost anything else. When, after two and a half months at sea, The Lion dropped anchor on the east coast of what would be come to known as North America, Edward could have kissed the earth. However, he was trying to maintain a low profile.

That is exactly how he came to learn that the violence he had been running from was an unstoppable force. In all his hope, Edward had underestimated the British’s capacity for it. When weapons were thrust into his hands at the turning of a war against the Native people of the land, Edward swallowed the stomach bile that had burst its way up into his mouth.

His mother’s death weighed heavily on him. The farmer’s wife too. Edward wasn’t a passivist, he had earned coin by beating men bloody, but he was not a killer. Certainly, he would not unjustly kill.

He thought maybe he could lie to the kingsmen, weave a story of priesthood. Here, in this new place, he would bring the holy word of God. A task the Queen herself would find more than noble. A task that could not begin with red on his ledger.

Alas, a colony of only a hundred would rely on each other. He had not the economic or social currency to show weakness. So, he fought.

Edward volunteered for any role that would take him out of the offensive lines. He went on reconnaissance trips and kept watch as others slept. He learned how to offer the most basic of medical aid, and how to sneak away from action without being missed.

It was on one of these secret trips that Edward came across a Native American who looked equally as surprised to see him. Edward had wandered off into the woodland that surrounded the colony, his weapon slung lazily over his shoulder, and his attention on the strange mushrooms growing along the forest floor.

The two men saw each other at the same time and froze in almost mirror positions.

Edward watched the man’s eyes flick to the weapon, then back to his face. He could tell he was reading him. Assessing what kind of White man Edward was. Slowly, Edward opened his hands and held them up, palms showing in a sign of submission.

“Peace,” Edward said softly.

The man took a step forward, a steely expression held firm. Edward tried not to flinch, instead offering a nod. The man came closer and closer until he could really see him. Neither of them wanted to cause the other harm. Edward knew that his individual intentions were irrelevant. He was part of a brutal regime.

In the distance, a gunshot echoed, startling both men. They ran in opposite directions, like two same-sided magnets repelling apart.

Edward told nobody of the encounter.

Just over a month later, the colonists were in a tense sort of truce with the Native Americans, but their resources were diminishing faster than they could be regenerated. They moved up the coast while the British fleet prepared to leave for England.

“If this is to be a true settlement, not a failure like Lane’s, we need provisions,” Edward listened to one of the colonists beg Governor White. It was a town meeting of sorts. “Return home. Tell them it was a mistake to come without a proper show of force. We need help.”

The fleet disappeared over the horizon near the end of August.

Within days, the knocking began.

Knock, knock.

When the sun set, a low mist would bleed out from the woodland. It came over the ocean, crossing the beach to get to the colony. Somewhere deep within it, something knocked twice, as if at a door asking for entry. They knocked on the hour, every hour until sunrise.

Knock, knock.

At first, the colony responded with a British stiff upper lip. They ignored it. They swallowed their fear. Then, when the cause for concern couldn’t be contained, they blamed the Native Americans. Except, it wasn’t how the Native Americans operated, and they hadn’t seen anyone but their own since the ships left.

Paranoia and dread set in. Superstition followed.

“What ungodly force has come for us?”

“Could it be the witches? They’re all over this land, you know!”

Edward listened to the unraveling of the people around him, but never offered his own theories or fears. Instead, one night, when the mist came in and the colony locked itself away, Edward found higher ground and watched. The mist was alive. There was simply no other conclusion to draw. It moved too quickly and appeared to have no relationship with the weather. It had a purpose. It licked around the settlement like it was hunting for something. Someone. Anyone.

Knock, knock.

Come morning, the colony’s livestock were slaughtered. Edward had stayed up all night, but he hadn’t seen it happen. There had been no devils in the mist.

Knock, knock.

The children cried and the women kept themselves busy with work. The men burned the animals’ bodies, too afraid to eat any of the meat.

Knock, knock.

The next night, Edward took his perch again. And the next. And the next. Until, a week later, they came from the darkness.

He knew that they wanted to be seen. They knocked on doors, rapped knuckles on axes left in stumps. They knocked on trees and rocks, riding the fog in.

Edward saw them and there was nothing to be done about that. He saw their human forms wear human clothes but make inhuman movements. He saw them dancing, dragging animal carcasses behind them like royal capes. He saw them, and they saw him.

The colony was ripped apart. Men, women, and children all treated with equal brutality. Edward stayed positioned in his higher ground perch, witnessing evil while he held his breath and tried not to scream. Bodies limp like rag dolls. Blood drip drip dripping into buckets when neighbours were hung from trees. Horror. Carnage. Damnation.

It almost felt like mercy, Edward thought, the moment the warmth bloomed across his neck and down his chest. He stumbled as he stood from his hiding spot. The vampire was watching him curiously. Edward held a useless hand over the bite. It was mercy that he hadn’t seen the monster coming. He hadn’t felt the pain of the injury. He could just die, easily, simply, finally.

The vampire’s face broke out into a gleeful smile, its teeth off-white and sharp.

“Filius,” it hissed. Son.

The vampires had come for misery, mostly, but they had been watching the colony. They had watched the violence leveled at the Native Americans. They picked out their favourites, like children at a petting zoo. Favourites would be turned.

Edward had never been anyone’s favourite anything, until then.

When he dropped to his knees, the vampire was crouching before him. It reached out and patted Edward, watching his skin’s colour fade. Then, it pushed him onto the ground, leering over him.

Edward could feel himself dying. It was a strange sort of fading, unlike falling asleep, and nothing like he’d have expected. His senses were somehow still sharp. The sounds of the colony being bled and burnt. The smell of death and fire. He could see it all then, when the vampire bit down hard on its own wrist, tearing a gaping wound.

“Pótó,” it said to him.

Edward didn’t understand Latin, but he knew what it was saying. Drink. He held his lips together tightly. He would not follow at the heels of a monster. Whatever it wanted with him, he would not abide.

At first, Edward’s resistance amused the vampire. It let its blood drip and dribble onto his face. It grew bored quickly, clutching Edward’s head in its hands, its nails digging in, ready to pry his jaw open.

It was a blur. A weapon. Not enough to kill a vampire, but enough to send it tumbling away from Edward’s body. He felt strong arms wrap under him, pulling him up. Someone was dragging him away, yelling in a language he didn’t understand. There was fire, arrows dipped in it. Then, there was blackness.

Edward dreamed one last time.

The mist, it had still set itself upon the colony, but it wasn’t vampires. It was the witches. They looked like his mother and the farmer’s wife. Like the girl who could carry more pints at once than anyone else in the bar. Like the kid who lived on the streets that Edward would spare more money for than he could really afford.

The witches came with spells to heal and potions that tasted like warm honey, and reminded him of something he couldn’t place. They told stories to the children and baked enchanted bread with the women. For the men, there was nothing, but they watched from the sidelines with humility.

When Edward woke, the magic was gone.

He roared in pain, shooting up and panicking when his body was entirely out of his control, raging in agony, thrashing. Hands held him down, a voice doing its best to soothe him. It wasn’t enough.

Edward’s body felt hollow, like all his organs had shrivelled up, the blood lost through the septic wound in his neck. And, like any bones left inside him had shrunk too, turned brittle and too small to let him move as he wished. His flesh burned as if he’d been roasted on a spit. Everything was pain. There was nothing else.

It took only minutes for Edward to collapse again. He was vaguely aware of his own consciousness. Vaguely able to tell he was in some sort of cave or tree hollow. Something naturally formed and sheltered. Vaguely aware of a face he recognised hovering above him. As hands tried to stop the bleeding, Edward’s eyes closed.

End Note: For the anon that suggested it - 1986 Eddie listening to metal for the first time.

A huge thank you to @jo-harrington, who models exactly what it means to be a thoughtful writer. You help me navigate the writing world.

So... Did you ever think you'd get an Eddie origin story?

Fic Taglist: @paranoidmunson @idkidknemore @paprikaquinn @stardustworlds @loz-brooke @wyverntatty @vintagehellfire @dark-academia-slut @scarletwitchwhore @becks1002 @mrsdollardog @heyndrix @luceneraium @rosaline-black @devilinthepalemoonlite @goldencherriess @iamwhisperingstars @wiltedwonderland @blueywrites @breezybeesposts @jadehowlettthewolf @spikesvamp79 @foreveranexpatsposts @tortoiseshellspells @wingedpeachjudgegiant @stardustmunson @live-love-be-unique @fangirling-4-ever @reanimated-alice @b-irock @gh0stlybunnie @myown-worstenemy-2003 @woozzz @cyberxlust @hiscrimsonangel @buckysbarne @m00nlight101 @word-wytch @spicysix @briasnow-blog @goth-cowgirl-03

All Eddie Taglist: @solomons-finest-rum @ruinedbythehobbit @sweetpeapod @thorfemmes @corrodedhawkins @grungegrrrl @lilzabob @averagemisfit03 @ches-86 @ilovecupcakesandtea @onehotgreasymechanic @hazydespair @mel-the-fangirl @eddies-hid3out @siren-lungs @aheadfullofsteverogers @hiscrimsonangel

#Mine #Burning Yarrow #Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson x You #Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson/You #Eddie Munson/Reader #Vampire!Eddie Munson #Witch!Reader

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lailoken · 1 year

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hello,

this may sound like a silly question, but is it possible for someone who is not Irish, scottish, or British to be contacted by the Fae?

thank you!

Hello there.

This isn't a silly question, but it's one I will have to expound on a bit, as opposed to just giving a yes or no answer. I'll also preface this by saying that my personal beliefs will likely be contentious to some, and I encourage readers to take what they find useful and leave the rest if it conflicts with their own paradigm. Most of this comes from a mixture of personal gnosis and theory, and I am not attempting to assert authority on the subject or claim academic accuracy, so please keep that in mind.

To put it very simply, I believe that the Fae are present in every region of the world, and I have highly syncretic beliefs about the nature of the Fae and other spirits in general. For me, the folkloric specifics come down to cultural lenses and the ways that long-term worship and perception shape the expectations and manifestations of the Gloaming Folk. So, no, I don't think one has to be Gaelic or Brythonic in order to cultivate a relationship with the Fae.

For instance, when looking at the Faerie Faith, many people think primarily—if not only—of the insular Celts. The Fair Folk of the English; the Aos Sidhe of the Irish; the Daoine Sìth of the Scottish; the Sheeaghan of the Manx; the Twlwyth Teg of the Welsh; the Spyrysyon of the Cornish; and the Korrigan of the Breton. But in the larger context of Germanic and Scandinavian folklore, there is copious evidence of entities that are undeniably similar to the Fae as they are understood in the Insular Celtic Isles. In fact, the Germanic word Elf is so closely aligned with the term Faery that many people don't even realize or think about the fact that they derive from different cultures. That being said, the Germanic/Scandinavian "lens" of Faerie Lore is probably the other best known by the wider public.

Likewise, there are multiple beings that show up in Slavic mythology and folklore—such as the Vila, the Rusalke, or the Vodyanoy—which are pretty readily accepted as Faeries. I don't know of an overarching term that would necessarily be equivalent, but the folkloric link is still there.

Now, moving into a more controversial aspect of my beliefs, I also happen to think of Angels, Demons, and Djinn in terms of Gloaming Spirits. While I readily admit that millenia of regionally specific belief and veneration form unique "identies" that Spirits of a given culture may align more closely with, I believe that they are all part of one larger "family" of beings who have been interacting with humanity for many thousands of years. I realize that this will likely be considered an egregious oversimplication for some, or possibly even an erasure of the individuality these cultures possess; but for me, the things that make a tradition sacred and unique are not invalidated or snuffed out by by the fact that other cultures may find recognition in them. So, while I do think beings like Angels, Demons, and Djinn are inexorably interrelated, I also fully accept that they are unique and culturally specific. And frankly, I find it hard to believe that others who have engaged in intensive personal gnosis haven't come across similar threads of paradoxical interconnection.

Beyond these, though, I've also pinpointed other entities over the years that I think represent reasonable approximations of the Fae. These include things like:

The Peris of Persian Mythology (Beautiful aerial spirits sometimes known to work with humans called Peri-Kahn, who gained skills and abilities from the relationship. They are generally described as humanoid figures with beautiful wings, who are known for their michevious behavior, though at least one work references them as divine beings denied entry into paradise until such a times as they have atoned—a folkloric motif some will recognize in connection to certain folk-beliefs regarding the Angels and the Fae.)

The Yakshas of Hinduism, Buddhism, and Jainism (Spirits of nature often connected with water, fertility, plants, treasures, and the wilderness. While some are considered benign or benevolent, others are considered more mischevious or sinister, though most are considered capricious. Sometimes associated with ecological forces, and at other times, with the spirits of the dead. )

The Yōkai of Shintō (A diverse array of spirits—often explicitly equivacated with fairies, demons, and/or sprites—known to interact with humans in both benevolent and malevolent capacities. While many of these spirits are quite singular in their uniqueness, others are more recognizable within a broader archetypal folkloric context—such as the Zashiki-warashi, which are described as diminutive domestic sprites known for both their ability to bestow good fortune, and their tendency to perform mischevious pranks.)

The Korpokkur of Ainu Mythology (A race of little folk, associated with the Butterbur plant, who were said to leave gifts under cover of night—as they did not like being seen. They were believed to be the original inhabitants of Japan before the Ainu—which also echoes aspects of Celtic Faerie Lore.)

The Aziza of Dahomean Mythology (A race of supernatural little folk who are said to live in the Wilds—often beneath Anthills or within silk-cotton trees— and use their magic to help humans, as well as providing people with practical knowledge and spiritual wisdom.)

The Yumboes of Wolof Mythology (Spirits of the dead described as little folk with pearly white skin and silver hair who lived beneath hills and come out to dance beneath the Moonlight. They are known to hold great feasts, which humans are sometimes invited to.)

The Hellenic Nymphs, Sirens, and Kobaloi (As many know, Nymphs are animistic spirits of nature, considered beautiful, and known to interact with humans. Likewise, most will have heard of Sirens as beautiful, seductive, and dangerous spirits of the water who are known to entice and drown men. The Kobaloi, in turn, are described as a mischievous race of small goblin-like folk who are fond of playing tricks on human kind.)

The Basque Iratxoak, Laminak, and Mairuak (An Iraxto is a type of domestic Imp or Goblin known to help with human labors in the night, if properly propitiated. A Lamina, on the other hand, is a Water Maiden described similarly to Sirens or Nereids. They are generally understood to have webbed duck feet and long beautiful hair, which they are fond of combing by the waterside. They are known for both their tendency to offer aid to those who show them respect and propitiation, and their tendency to seduce and ensnare men. Some traditions speak of male giants called Mairuak, who are closely associated with Laminak, and are linked by some with the construction of megalithic structures.)

The Duende of Iberian mythology (A term quite similar to 'Faery' in its usage, which encompasses a diverse array of spiritual entities who are generally said to appear as humanoid, though frequently capable of shapeshifting. They are often associated with nature and are known for their involvement with humans—be it helpful, romantic, michevious, or vicious. They include goblin-esque folk known as Trasgu, Water Maidens known as Xana or Anjana, and supernatural beings called Mouros who take refuge beneath the earth and rarely emerge near sites like barrows. The most common conception of a Duende, however, describes them as a mischevious sort of domestic imp or goblin known for their dealings with the human world. )

The Aztec Chaneque (A sprite-like race of little folk who are associated with Elemental forces and are often conceived as guardians of nature. These beings were once propotiated by the Nàhuatl peoples in exchange for protection from blight, intruders, and evil forces. However, they could also inflict harm, and they were known to sometimes kidnap humans and take them to their home in the Underworld of of Mictlàn to be seduced. On an interesting sidenote, one folk-method of protecting against them when traveling in the forest was for a person to turn their clothing inside out—a charm many will recognize from Celtic Faerie Folklore.)

The Mayan Aluxo'ob (Spirits recognized in the mythological traditions of certain Maya peoples, who are generally associated with particular features of nature. They are described as small and humanoid, and they usually remain invisible, though they can assume physical form for the sake of interacting with humans. Sometimes, wandering Aluxo'ob are said to ask for offerings from farmers or travelers and may respond with wrath if refused. If its conditions are respectfully met, however, it is said that an Alux will provide protection, luck, and aid. In fact, some traditions hold that a farmer can erect a specialized form of Spirit House in order to welcome in an Alux that will aid them for a contracted period of time with tending crops, summoning favorable weather, and guarding property. What's more, there exist naming taboos that reflect themes of Celtic Faerie Lore.)

The Guarani Pombero (A spirit particularly important in Paraguay, though it appears in multiple mythological traditions from the surrounding area. The Pombero is generally conceived as a small hairy man who lives in forested areas and abandoned sites, and is known to cause mischief for humans. It is said that the Pombero can become invisible, change shape, and perfectly mimick the sounds of the wild. Usually, he is considered harmless, if mischevious—known for antics like food theft, the loosing of cattle, and the scattering of household objects. Though, he is also known also known to occasionally abduct and/or impregnate women, resulting in the births of hairy children. The Pombero is capable of being appeased, however, through offerings such as cigars, liquor, and honey. It is even said that, if these propitiations are observed consistently for long enough, the Pombero will take a liking to a person or persons and provide protection for their home and posessions, as well as leaving gifts of their own in return.)

The Tupi-Guarani Curupira (A spirit described in the folklore of Paraguay, Amazonia, Brasil, and Argentina as a little man with bright red hair and feet turned backwards, which it uses to obfuscate the trajectory of its footprints. They are said to live in the wild, and will prey on hunters who take more than they need, or who harm animals while they care for their Offspring. They are also said to ocassionally abduct and/or impregnate women, resulting in strange or unexplained births.)

The Iroquois Jogah (A race of magical little folk spoken of in Iroquois lore. They are said to be largely invisible, and an array of phenomena are associated with them, such as mysterious drumming noises, rings of bare earth, disembodied lights, and "bowls" found in stones. Offerings such as tobacco and fingernail parings could be left within these stone bowls, as propitiation to the Jogah. They are fond of mischief and games, though they can also be dangerous if disrespected. It is said, for example, that they will cause illness in homes constructed upon sites that they favor. The Jogah are also known for the variety of sub-groups into which they can be divided, generally associated with particular aspects or features of the natural world.)

& the Māori Patupaiarehe (Beings described in Māori mythology as a pale folk with red or golden hair. They are said to live in the mountains, hills, and deep forests in communities unseen by human eyes. They are known to influence the mist and clouds, to play music sweeter than that of any human hand, and were said to sometimes act with hostility towards humans who encroach or intrude upon their land. Despite this, however, most traditions state that Māori are able to converse with them at times.)

These are only a selection of traditional beliefs, though there are many more I won't attempt to list, and who knows how many more I've never heard. These are merely ones that have particularly caught my notice over time, and which seemed worth mentioning here. However, I am far from an anthropological expert, and I encourage others to ammend, contextualize, and add onto this information as they see fit—especially if they come from a culture I reference here. My goal is not to imply that all of these traditions are somehow directly connected to the Anglo-Celtic traditions, or that Anglo-Celtic mythology should be the cornerstone by which all folklore is considered; it's just the cultural background I have the most personal connection to/understanding of, and so I aim to speak mainly from a place of my own experience (though, I am actually half Paraguayan as well.)

So, in conclusion, while I do think that one's own cultural and regional context generally plays an important role in how one is likely to encounter the Gloaming Folk, I believe that people from virtually every culture have the capacity for working with them. I think that, when attempting to approach the Fae, it's a good idea for one to come at it from the perspective of their own heritage and regional lore, but at the same time, one can't always help the way spirits end up cultivating relationships with them (and, honestly, I think it is better for one to wait for the Fae to approach them whenever possible.)

#fae #fair folk #gloaming folk #gloaming #otherworld #faerie folk #faerie faith #good neighbors #pagan syncretism #syncretism #faerie lore #faerie folklore #anonymous #ask

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haphazardlyannotated · 1 year

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Steven Universe Weapons Graded by Practicality in Actual Combat

Garnet:

There's a reason gauntlets aren't a standard weapon of warfare, and that reason is range. If you want to hit someone with your gauntlets, you have to let them get pretty close. Which might easily be closer than they even need to get to hit you, if their weapon gives them any range at all. Just remember how Jasper got Garnet with the Gem Destabiliser in The Return before Garnet had a chance to get a hit in.

That being said, Garnet's gauntlets have two points in their favour that I wanted to talk about: 1.) They protect her gems, which would otherwise be extremely vulnerable. When in combat, you'll all but certainly have to use your hands to attack, deflect or even just catch yourself when you fall. Garnet's gems would be at a constant risk of cracking without her gauntlets. And 2.) Garnet's gauntlets can be launched like rockets, which at least partially negates the range problem.

Overall assessment: 5/10, saved by the special features

Amethyst:

Like gauntlets, real life whips don't fare too well as implements of war. Unless you can get it around your enemy's neck, the best thing you can hope for is that you'll be able to hit them hard enough to make them drop their weapons. Also, it would be pretty difficult not to hit your allies with it by accident.

However, the way Amethyst's whip works negates all of these problems. Not only can Amethyst get her whip wrapped around her enemy and then squeeze them until they poof, she is also strong enough to either slam a wrapped up enemy into the floor or walls hard enough to take them out, we see her grab a boulder several times her size and use it as a flail in Steven vs Amethyst. Her weapon also has the additional perk of being useful to restrain an enemy, and just as a little cherry on top, can apparently also produce electric(?) shocks.

Overall a ridiculously good weapon, easy 10/10.

Pearl:

Spear: Spears are (well, were) the most commonly used real life weapon for a reason. They can be used both one- and two handed, both to stab at mid range and to throw at long range, and Pearl's seems to be suitable to all four. She also uses it to slash at her opponents like a glaive, and can shoot energy balls(?). However, Amethyst's whip is still more versatile, so I'm going to rate Pearl's spear 9/10.

Trident: I'm sorry, Bismuth, but the two extra stabs per attack aren't worth losing the slashing and making the throws more difficult in my eyes. 7/10, one point deduced for each.

Swords: Also popular for a reason. I don't think I need to explain why swords are good, so I'm just going to say that since Pearl's swords don't have any magical properties, I'm going to give them a simple 7/10 and move on.

Steven:

A real life shield is not really a weapon, but we've seen Steven's shield be thrown like a boomerang, and it seems to be pretty effective. That being said, this attack is at the very least much more difficult in mêlée, by which I mean if you're holding something off with it, you have to wait and pray that someone else will help you out, because you're not getting off any attacks now.

4/10 with the caveat that I'm unsure if this should have been rated here in the first place.

Connie:

We already did swords. 7/10.

Peridot:

Limb Enhancers: They're not solely weapons, but they have weapon functions, so I decided they count. Mainly, I think her blaster should be rated 8/10, as it seems to be much more destructive than Pearl's energy balls, but can only be used to either directly hurt your opponent, or collapse structures on them.

Metal Spike: Well, it worked, I guess? In all seriousness, if she got good at impaling people with it, that'd be a 7/10 for a regular spear equivalent.

Soda Cans: Look, Peri, if you were going to throw human metal objects, you should have picked the cars. 1/10 for comic relief.

Lapis:

I'm pretty sure "The Ocean" doesn't generally count as a weapon, but if it did, it'd be a 1000/10. There's a reason Lapis had to be kept away from the main plot.

Bismuth:

I don't know how to evaluate the shapeshift weapons, but the Breaking Point has hilariously low ratings. It's very short range, can not be used to block or parry, and needs to hit one exact tiny bullseye on a moving target. 2/10, and we don't even need to debate the ethics of war.

Jasper:

Helmet: Congratulations, we've found a weapon that requires you to get even closer to the target than gauntlets! In all seriousness, Jasper's helmet is a very impractical weapon. Not only does it have a small range, Jasper also has to lower her head and thus limit her field of vision when attacking. It does protect her gem, but not as well as Garnet's gauntlets protect hers, seeing how the visor thing is broken in Jailbreak, but Garnet's gauntlets never have been.

0/10, I honestly believe she'd be better off fighting with her bare hands

Destabilizer: This basically comes down to how many times you can use one of those. If it's unlimited, your opponents' only chance is to fire at you from a distance, and I'd rate it 11/10. If it's a one or two uses and then you need to recharge or get a new one, it's still an 8/10, but you'll want to have another weapon on hand.

Opal:

Opals bow is ridiculously good. It can hit a bazillion targets at a time and auto bubble them! And it satisfies my inherent bias for long distance weapons! What more could you want? Basically, Opal took a bow, which is already a great weapon, and then buffed it by a thousand.

12/10, the real reason we see so little of Opal is that she's too powerful.

Sugilite:

Flails were pretty rare weapons historically, probably because a weapon that will hit either you or your ally like a cartoon boomerang if you miss is too much of a liability. Also, momentum makes swinging it slower than everything we've seen before. Overall, I agree with the historical judgment. 3/10.

Sardonyx:

War hammers are much better documented as historical weapons than flails, and much more effective than I initially assumed. Apparently they were useful because they can knock you out through a metal helmet. If Sardonyx' hammer had a pointy end instead of two flat ones, it could also be used for grappling, but as it is, I'm afraid the lack of versatility will keep the score at 6/10.

Smoky Quartz:

I can't reasonably use real life yoyos as a comparison for Smoky's yoyo, so I'll treat it like a more controlled flail: A weapon that can hit around obstacles up to the longer end of mid distance and be recalled easily. Also, it can grapple and create tornadoes. Overall, it's to Sugilite's flail what Amethyst's whip is to, well, real life whips.

10/10 weapon, no notes

Rainbow 2.0

We never see Rainbow fight with their umbrella, but we do see him use some sort of telekinesis with it. If we assume that the umbrella can be used to stab an opponent (if it can't, I don't think it can be classified as a weapon), I'd give it a reluctant 4/10, since it's still not very good at taking anyone out, but the telekinesis could be pretty useful defensively.

Sunstone:

I have no earthly, or indeed alien idea as to how one would go about fighting with suction cups. I'll grade this one not applicable.

Obsidian:

All the advantages of a regular sword, but it can also easily cut through metal, and, if the lava is to be taken seriously, stone, so it can also be used to dismantle your enemies' fortifications. 10/10

Ruby:

Basically the same points as Garnet's gauntlets, except she's more limited due to having even shorter range and only one gauntlet. We don't have proof as to whether she can launch hers, but I decided to assume she can, on the basis that it has to originate somewhere.

3/10

Rose and Stevonnie:

I'm going to guess that the sword and shield combo is probably better than just a sword, and definitely better than just a shield, but I don't want to give it a 10/10, because it can't compare to the versatility of my other 10/10s, so I'll give it an 8/10 and call it good.

Eyeball:

A handheld knife strikes the lowest step on the weapons ladder. It heavily skews the odds in your favour if your opponent is unarmed, but doesn't have the range or damage output to do much against anything on this list(except Peridot's soda cans, and technically Jasper's helmet, but 1.) Jasper could beat Eyeball barehanded and 2.) Eyeball would never attack Jasper).

2/10

Topaz:

A fairly common weapon for a while, but it can't do anything other than smash things. I'll give it the same rating as Sardonyx' war hammer for the same reasons. 6/10.

Aquamarine:

Look, I know it's kind of a grey area whether this counts as a weapon, but that little staff was scary. It can freeze any number of opponents? Of seemingly any power level? With no apparent time limit? 20/10, how are you supposed to fight this?

Bluebird:

A cutlass is a sword. 7/10. 9/10 if I count the barrage of ice cutlasses. Very good weapons, it's just that Steven and Alexandrite are vastly more powerful, so the quality of her weapon didn't end up mattering.

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butchdaydreams · 5 months

Text

Where are my appreciation posts for mutual masturbation?

Sitting them in your lap while you touch yourselves together

Bossing them around, telling them exactly how and when to touch themself

Watching them put on a show for you

Getting off to their pleasure

Holding them into your chest, pulling them in tight so they can feel your every movement

The options are basically endless

#peri said a thing #nsft #nsft text #lesbian nsft #butch4butch nsft

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headcanonenthusiast · 4 months

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Alex Keller SFW relationship headcanons

Since my first post on this man did good, here's some SFW relationship headcanons to feed your delusions 😀

No warnings on this one, folks. Was made with both masc and fem readers in mind, but some of the specific headcanons are leaning towards a specific gender.

Enjoy!

-Love languages are physical touch and acts of service. Loves giving + receiving touch, but feels more inclined to spoil you by doing things for you.

-Will do chores you despise if you're sick/tired. As much as you may insist it's fine and that you can do it, every once in a while you'll find your designated chores (as well as the ones Alex already does) finished.

-He passes out compliments like it's candy, and his words are honestly as sweet as it, too. So sincere with everything he says, no matter how self-conscious you may be, he'll do everything in his power to make you feel like royalty.

-A big fan of just relaxing with you. Y'all could be doing basically anything, whether it's watching TV or making food or cuddling, and no matter how mundane things may be, Alex would much rather just enjoy the simple moments and appreciate the time he's able to spend with you.

-Nicknames for you include: Baby (baby girl/boy/doll), sweetheart, sunshine, dolly, darling and the occasional love or sugar.

-I feel like he's a God at back massages. No particular reason why, he's just good at them.

-The inside jokes are top tier. The type of inside jokes you and Alex have are probably so ridiculous that to anyone besides you two, you guys look insane.

-Whenever he sees anything that reminds him of an inside joke y'all have, he'll literally have to place a hand over his mouth while snorting. Then he'll text you about it so fast he makes like 12 spelling mistakes.

-If you have a favorite animal, color, show, etc, you best believe he's going to go out of his way to buy you gifts of those things. He'll just come home one day with a plushie of your favorite animal with the widest grin on his face.

-"Look what I found at the mall! You still like bears, right?" (Totally didn't use bears as an example bc my favorite animal are bears..)

-Loves relaxing on your chest. Whether you're taller or shorter, it doesn't matter. Your chest = his pillow.

-Loves it when you run a hand through his hair or touch his facial hair. Also, please cup his cheek and give him as many kisses as you possibly can.

-Will MELT if you fall asleep on him.

-His favorite places to kiss you are the cheeks, forehead, nose and ofc the lips.

-Always has an arm around your shoulder or waist or holds your hand in public. He's not very possessive or anything, but he just feels the need to show you off. Its kinda like he's saying "Hey, look at the absolute eye-candy I scored." And he gets all smiley when someone compliments you.

-Favorite cuddling positions are spooning (he always insists on being the big spoon), or where you're practically on top of him and using his chest as a pillow (and vice versa).

-If you also want kids and can get pregnant, he's completely fussing over you the entire time. You're not allowed to lift a finger

-He'll also do the same if you're sick or on your period if you're afab.

-Once, while he was on deployment, you got sick and told him about it.

-"Aw, sunshine. I'm so sorry to hear that :(" is what his text said, before asking you exactly what you needed. Then boom, all of a sudden his mother pays you a surprise visit and makes you some soup. It's totally not like he asked if she'd be willing to check up on you or anything because he couldn't be there..totally not 🙃

-Also, I headcanon him to be a major mama's boy. Maybe he's got an older sister or two as well, idk.

-I feel like family is very important to him. As such, he's always dragging you over to see his family.

-Always getting you to play with any nephews/nieces he may have and when you do, he gets massive baby fever.

-Either way, I feel he's fairly knowledgeable on things like periods and such, which is probably why he's so good at taking care of you

-If you're amab and need some new clothes, he'll gladly go through his old ones and see if anything catches your eye.

-Will let you wear a shirt of his regardless of gender, though.

-He knows how much you love wearing his t-shirts and sweaters, regardless of if they fit you or not. So, one time while he was on deployment, he "forgot" a shirt at home and once he "realized" he'd "forgotten" it, he told you to keep it safe.

-"Alex? I think you left a shirt behind."

-"Thats alright, sunshine. I've got plenty of other clothes. Can you please keep it nice and warm til I get back?"

-Y'all always have a meal over FaceTime together when he's deployed.

-Whenever he sees something that reminds him of you, he sends you a text and a picture of said thing.

-And said thing is usually either really beautiful, like the sunset or a flower that caught his eye, or something really stupid like a pic of a weird looking cat from the internet or a giant rat he saw around base.

-"Saw the rat that's been terrorizing the base's kitchen today. Reminded me of you ❤"

-"Wtf"

-"Why would a rat remind you of me?"

-"Because it steals my food and leaves crumbs everywhere but is still pretty damn cute."

-"🖕"

-"Love you too, dolly."

-Def wants some sort of pet with you, especially a dog.

-If you're allergic to dogs, he'll try to get a hypoallergenic breed.

-Although he's certainly not opposed to most other pets! Prefers dogs to cats, but he still likes them, so if you would prefer a cat he's down to get one.

-Asks for pics of said pet while on deployment constantly.

-And when he's home, his entire camera roll is just filled with the goofiest pet pics.

-Such a bad cameraman when it comes to animals for no reason. Will make the most beautiful, expensive and well-groomed ragdoll cat look like a sewer rat with just one photo 💀

-Somehow takes amazing pics of you, though. Manages to make you look absolutely gorgeous/handsome everytime.

-Stays up late just chuckling at messages between you two on deployment. Does the same for pictures of you, too.

-When he returns home, though, there's barely a night where he's up past 11 pm, because you're there to cuddle him to sleep.

-Overall, Alex would just be such an attentive, loving partner. You, your safety, your family and making you laugh are his main priorities.

Another one done! Definitely enjoying writing these, so let me know who I should do next.

#alex keller #alex keller x f!reader #alex keller x y/n #alex keller x male reader #alex keller headcanons #alex keller cod #cod modern warfare #call of duty #alex keller x reader #alex keller x you #headcanon #i'm still a disappointment to my parents

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thats-a-lot-of-cortisol · 28 days

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2 & 3 from section 1 for peri and 7 from whichever section has a more interesting #7 for diodore -moss

oooh these are fun ones!

2. Describe their tent set-up (outside and inside) (Peri)

I think Peri's tent is constructed similarly to Gale and Astarion's (boxy, fabric walls, little covered area outside). Deep blue fabric w/ golden astronomical embroidery, mostly the sort of thing you see on star maps. Little golden tassles around the edges of the tarp (?) and the doorframe. He'd have a small, circular, dark wood side table short enough that you can use it sitting on the ground, and a dark blue pillow next to it; there would be some parchment and a bronze miniature astrolabe on the table. The inside would be just. full to the brim with the gaudiest night-sky-themed pillows you've ever seen. No bedroll, no palette, just a nest that would put those cube pits in trampoline parks to shame. There would be two bird perches for his familiar Medani: one taller one next to his tent and one shorter one under the overhang. The shorter one would have a crow-sized bow-tie hanging from it. Rugs on rugs on the outside area ofc. 3. What would their character quest be titled? Why? (Peri)

This is a hard one! His tav ending involves taking over the Waterdeep arm of the Harpers, so I think his arc would have something to do with that. He'd be pretty bitter about being dropped into another near-apocalyptic mess when dealing with the last one a few years prior was supposed to be a one-time thing. Something-something ptsd in a world that doesn't have the words for that yet, something-something 'once a hero always a hero', something-something the weight of responsibility...he's a planeswalker so I think part of it would be whether he decides to stay on Toril long-term and directly help rebuild the Waterdeep Harpers or if he continues to run travel around afterwards, so maybe The Far Traveller/The Far Walker?

Harpson/Fae-son are also potential options. "Fae-son" nods to him being a changeling without it being super obvious (like Astarion's "The Pale Elf"). It would also mimic his backstory reveals from RoT ("oh he's not 'from here' so, like, the Feywild" -> "OH he's not from here"). 7. Describe their arc. How would a player help resolve it? What choices can be made? Can your Tav be turned down a dark path, or pulled to a lighter one? (Diodore)

Buckle up because we're in for a long one here. I've thought about Dora's story arc a lot because she's the first of my tavs that I truly made for the game while having full control over her backstory, etc. (versus Corentin, who had their arc baked into the story as a durge). Dora's a paladin of Corellon (oath of ancients) and her story arc as a companion would have to do with whether or not she should accept capital-r-Redemption, the process by which a drow can be truly "freed" from Lolth and rejoin the ranks of the rest of elven society. It involves all of the Redeemed drow's memories being erased and them being reincarnated as a surface elf. The implication seems to be that without that, regardless of a drow's actions, they'd be thrown back to Lolth when they die? Or at least that their eternal fate is unknown (which is the way I prefer to think of it for. personal reasons). Under normal circumstances, Dora would be a long way from Redemption being presented to her at all (she's not even 200 yet and has only been on the surface for a couple decades), but like with the other gods' Chosen among the companions, near-apocalyptic circumstances tend to speed up those sorts of things.

Of course, you'd have the themes of faith & relationship with deity when they're all unequivocally real and are also mostly all assholes; maintaining or breaking generational cycles; facing the unknown; morality when none of your choices are "good" (and how that interacts with morality vs self preservation); power vs freedom; identity outside of the people who made you; etc. The choice would first be presented to her sometime in late Act I/early Act II, likely the first long rest after the group resurfaces from the Underdark and you've probably gotten some of her backstory already. I have no idea how Larian would have characterized Corellon, but he's considered one of the more benevolent/open-minded deities iirc, which could be interesting to see contrasted with Mystra, Vlaa'kith, and Shar. How much that open-mindedness would extend to a drow, even one who has been a faithful follower even before she escaped to the Surface (and who inherited that faith from her father), is unclear. At the beginning of the game she would be leaning towards accepting Redemption, despite her own misgivings about whether or not she would still be her in that case.

Her final decision (at the ending pier scene) would depend on the relationship she has with the PC and the other companions. Her best ending, imo, would be her not accepting Redemption but continuing to be a force for good. If she has a good relationship with the PC, she would have something to lose. I think seeing the House of Mourning would affect her too. After all, the thing Corellon is offering to her as a way to find peace is the same thing the Sharrans are using as a way to manipulate and control others.

She's viscerally aware of how she was socialized and very actively chooses "good", so pushing her towards a darker path would be incredibly difficult but not impossible. If you side with the goblins she'll leave immediately, and turn on you if she's in your party when you attack the grove. But if you decide to try and control the cult in Act II, depending on your over-all actions before then and how you've interacted with her, you could disillusion her to the point of convincing her to break her oath. That path would entail convincing her that controlling the cult is actually the best idea. I'm sure there would be other times that her oath could break that wouldn't necessarily lock her into an "evil" path, especially with how Oathbreakers are handled in the game. Knocking out Minthara instead of killing her outright and letting Auntie Ethel go in Act I instead of killing her are two things that come to mind.

If she doesn't choose Redemption she would be at the epilogue party, of course. I'm a bit undecided on what would happen if she does choose Redemption. She may not be there at all, w/ Jaheira, Halsin, Minthara, and/or Astarion mentioning running into her in her new, reincarnated state. Or she would be there, confused, and mention how the PC seems familiar in a way she can't quite place. In that case, she would ask them how they know each other and mention something about feeling a twinge of grief looking at everyone, but that she doesn't know why she feels that way. It would be up to the PC how much they tell her (if they tell her anything at all).

#ty for the ask mossy!!#and sorry for the wait lol a couple of these stumped me for a minute #thinking about peri & jaheira as narrative parallels...#b/c i want to be clear here. peri was and is *not* looking for more responsibility re: harpers #he was perfectly happy doing security systems. him not seeking power was an active character choice i made for him b/c he's a wizard #but in the Faerun In My Head (tm) the Waterdeep Harpers also get decimated by the Absolute b/c why would they not? theyd be a major threat #especially b/c their high harper was the catalyst for forming the lord's alliance and. like. you think they're *not* reconvening?#for Weird Cult Two: 2 Cult 2 Furious??#gortash would take remallia OUT if at all possible #and also I like torturing my characters #and i think the whole 'weight of duty'/hero's curse (once you get drawn into one situation you can't ignore the others/they come to you)#thing is interesting for peri in particular. the man just wants to live a quiet life and he will! for the most part.#just now with thousands of lives in his hands b/c he's helped stop 2 apocalypses and is irrevocably tied to the fate of the Coast now #his conscious wouldn't let him just leave the Harpers or Waterdeep to rot. and that seems to be similar to the situation jaheira's in #generational cycles the cruel march of time history repeats itself etc etc #that's also why i think he would get Weave'd and have an unusually long lifespan. he wanted to rest and the universe said “no <3”#i think about dora's story a lot also because the whole 'you can be redeemed (from something you were born with)#but only by removing integral parts of yourself' thing hits *right* in the religious trauma #you cant tell me there wouldn't be *some* part of a Redeemed Drow's soul that remembers the people from before they were changed #unless they just. get a new soul in which case it literally isn't them anymore.#doras first real & healthy relationships happen in-game #thats part of why she's drawn to astarion. his bullshit is predictable to her and therefore feels safer.#definitely safer than whatever is going on with the others #(also why she trusts karlach so quickly: she's straightforward and blunt & doesn't really hide things?#and was also the only one to warn her against astarion. dora'd literally never had someone like that in her life before so it stuck)#and she'd feel a bit uncomfortable w/ the concept of Redemption at first but who is she to argue with a god?#esp one who seems kinder than many of the others #but as the story progresses she realizes that she *can* trust these people and that they trust her #and she sees how Gale and Shadowheart and Lae'zel are struggling w/ their deities #and not only does she have something to lose now but she's seeing more of how the gods work generally

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wexhappyxfew · 5 days

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31. pinky swear from the touch prompt list please!! really i’d love this prompt for all three pairings but maybe carrie and dougie?

- @parajumpboots 💜💜

HI PERI!!!!! ( @parajumpboots ) 🥹 thank you so so much for stopping by and dropping this wonderful little prompt in - it was so fun to fill and write, especially for carrie and dougie!! they’re so fun to write and play around with in context! :) thank you again and please enjoy! <3

you pinky promise?

(a/n): this can be seen a bit as a part 2 to THIS piece i wrote a little while back, but they don’t have to be read together at all, so! please enjoy carrie and dougie and their antics hehe :)

Day was fading to night and she was still feeling like she'd been run over by a truck.

Everything ached, her head was woozy, her throat dry and scratchy, her nose running like it was something fierce, and everything just seemed so loud and in her face. It had been only a matter of time before she would get sick with something like this - even as a kid in school, she'd catch anything that ran through that building, whether from other kids or the seasonal changes of the weather.

And now, she was here, trapped in a cot in the Med-Bay, listening to distant screams from people in Triage or others in the sickness wing launching up lunch. Curled on her side, she stared lazily up towards the window where the sunset was starting to dance across the sky, a beautiful array of colors flickering across, mixed with clouds and nightfall, the blue and purple hues dotting with stars.

At least the sky was having a grand old time.

"How ya feeling, Bergie?" Carrie stiffened for a moment and then shifted, glancing up and over her shoulder to see Dougie. Dougie. Surprise-surprise.

"Okay." she answered, before turning back and resting her swimming head against the pillow and staring up at the sky again, "Queasy." She heard Dougie let a puff of air leave his lips in a response for laughter before a chair screeched against the floor and was pulled up at her side. Slowly, she looked towards him, sat in the chair, lighting up a cigarette and letting the smoke blow upwards.

"You serious?" she murmured.

"Ah, c'mon, just for a sec." he said, talking around the cigarette on his lip, as she rolled her eyes and adjusted onto her back, looking towards him.

"Just a sec, huh?" she said, "I bet even if I could pay you the largest sum of money in the world, that thing wouldn't leave your lips."

"Since when did you become so concerned with me and this cigarette?"

"Because I feel sick enough as it is, Dougie, and you're lighting it up in front of me." she said with a deadpan stare and he raised his hands in defense and then popped it off his lip and stubbed it out.

"Better?"

"You're a real sweetheart, ya know that?" Carrie murmured and he made a face, which she mocked back, "So. What's up?"

"Figured you wanted to hear about Lieutenant Bradshaw nearly throwing me overboard." Dougie offered rather expressively as his eyes grew wide and he held out his hands, "I promise, if you want to have a laugh, I am more than willing to offer it."

"At your own humiliating expense?"

"Precisely." Carrie laughed and then sighed, before smiling slightly.

"Well, go on, then," she urged him on, bringing the blanket up over her form a bit more, "you've got me invested now. There's no backing out."

"I can never back out of these sorts of things, can I?"

"Dougie. Story. Now." Dougie smirked and then leaned forward against his knees, before chuckling.

"Well, first-off, she called me Bergie I don't know how many fucking times-"

"That's because, uh, hello genius, I'm usually the bombardier here, alright-"

"Anyway," Dougie said, sending her a look, which made her smile slightly, "after calling me Bergie, I started making jokes back, ya know, try to give the feel that you probably give Lieutenant Bradshaw, when she basically has to hand the fort over."

"So you're saying I'm funny." Carrie said, with a soft smirk his way, "Thank you for that." Dougie looked to her and for a moment, they just watched each other, before they both broke out into laughter.

"That's a bit of a stretch, Bergie-"

"No, it ain't, you said it with a straight face!" Dougie looked to her and raised a brow and she raised her own back.

"Fine, yes, I realize that you usually try to get people laughing and I figured Lieutenant Bradshaw would appreciate it, so…." Dougie shrugged, "whatever makes you sleep at night."

"Asshole." Carrie murmured, before grinning, "So, what she'd say?" Dougie leaned back in his chair and then smiled wide.

"Well, we landed, right?" he said, "Bes is well, to be the nicest I can be, looking at me like I just bet on a losing horse, and then Lieutenant Bradshaw comes down from the cockpit and chews me out. Pretty sure Bes and Francis got front row seats to my funeral on that one." Carrie let out a bark of laughter and cough rather wetly, which wasn't the most pleasant sounding, but Dougie seemed to hardly care less, as he shook his head with a chuckle.

"God, she went 'Why do I have you doing Bergie impressions in my ear, Douglass! We're here to drop bombs, not put on a show for rich-fucks!'" Dougie said with a laugh and Carrie let out a string of laughter, her head falling back, just as the sight she got in her head,

"It was bad, I gotta admit."

"You really outdid yourself there." Carrie said with a snort, "C'mon, show me it." Dougie looked at her and raised a brow, and with what strength she had, she reached forward and punched his shoulder.

"Your impression of me, asshole," she said, "c'mon, I know it oughta be good enough for 25,000 feet in the air, huh?" Dougie looked to her and his face softened for a brief moment, before he gathered his bearings.

"'This shit tastes like it was cooked on the goddamn barnburner you call an engine!'" Dougie said, in a ridiculously accurate, rather high-pitched voice that made Carrie wheeze to the point all she could was cough wetly, and had to recover.

"I do not sound like that." she managed out, wetly coughing again and pointing a finger at home, "But that is absolutely something I'd say."

"See?" Dougie said leaning forward, grabbing the cup of water at the side of her cot and handing it to her, "No wonder I pissed off Lieutenant Bradshaw so much, she probably thought I was trying to make her lose her mind." She took the cup and drank some water down slowly, and then smiled.

"Got that right," Carrie said with a laugh, before catching his gaze, and placing down the water, "that or you hang around me far too often." Dougie smirked, watching her for a moment as it grew quiet between them. But then he shrugged and she looked away and he scratched his neck.

"Listen, I don't want to bother you much more, you're not feeling great so…." Dougie made to stand, but Carrie looked up at him, before reaching out and grabbing at his arm.

"It's okay," she said, her grip loosening on the sleeve of his A-2, as she realized how suddenly desperate she looked for him to stay (she didn't want to come across like that good Lord), "I'm not exactly tired yet, so….don't feel you have to go." Dougie looked down at her and then smiled softly, before she let go and he settled himself down into the chair again.

"Well, you better heal on up quicker then if I decide to hang around a little while longer, got that? I think Bes was gonna sucker-punch me in the nose of Silver Bullets," Dougie said, "she missed you." Carrie smiled warmly at the thought of Bessie and pulled the blanket tighter around her form and nodded.

"I can promise you, right now, not focusing on the fact I feel like shit is probably the best thing for me," she said, in a slightly joking tone, but genuinely honest one as well, "but I promise, alright?" Dougie watched her and then sent her a look.

"You pinky promise?" he asked her, holding out a pinky towards her. She stared between his pinky finger and his face and felt her shoulders loosen.

"Fine, yes," she said, looping her finger through his and smirking, "you just miss me out there in the chow line messing with your coffee that bad, huh?" Dougie looked at her, pulling a face in her direction.

"Where the hell would you even get that idea?" Dougie said, "And plus, when you do mess with my coffee, and let's just say it isn't entirely detrimental, adding more cream or sugar isn't exactly a negative in my sense."

"It's going to clog up your organs with shit." Carrie said and Dougie raised a brow.

"And here we are. Back again to Bergie Achterberg being so wonderfully concerned with my health," Dougie said, "you wanna write to my Ma? Ask for my birth forms too now, huh? That or you really are trying to get your karma out on me? Clogging up my organs with shit, huh?" Carrie watched him and then unlooped her pinky and sat back against the bed.

"Clogging up your organs with sugar and unhealthy stuff, Dougie," she said, before pulling the blanket up more, "must I repeat it?"

"Please do." Carrie cracked an eye open and watched as Dougie started chuckling and she did her best to hide her smirk.

"You absolute asshole."

"Oh c'mon, you love it."

Both her eyes opened and she looked over at him for a moment. They lingered in silence for a moment - somehow it always seemed to happen. One of them saying something that sent them both, separately reeling in a sense neither could quite compound in their minds. Especially when it was supposed to be something casual, something that rolled off the tongue and was in fact normal to say to friends.

But whatever was going on in this war and between them, it wasn't normal.

And something like that made them go silent.

Carrie watched him for a moment, as he seemed to smile, more to himself than her, and then looked at her.

"Get some rest, Bergie." he said softly, before leaning forward and patting the edge of the blanket where her you could see her legs outlined by the fabric, and then stood, "Need anything?"

Carrie looked at him rather quietly, suddenly feeling like a child again, watching him stand and ready to leave, except in a much more pleasant manner than anyone at home had ever been like. Because at home, it had been people leaving without explanation or well-wishes.

"Just some crackers maybe? Please?" she asked him quietly, her voice sounding more youthful than anything else in the past few days. Dougie smiled at her, that gentle grin rising on his face and he nodded.

"I'll be back, alright?" And she watched him give her a smile, before wandering away, finding a nurse and engaging in conversation.

And after that. He came back. With crackers.

#masters of the air #mota #mota writings #silver bullets #carrie achterberg #james douglass #carrie x dougie #THESE TWO!!!!#he got her WATER without saying ANYTHING #just on instinct #and he STAYED #and got her CRACKERS #(because her home life was never like that)#sobbing over them continually #fangirling like these arent people that live in my head lmfao #BYEEE #please enjoy!! :D

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