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writingforaliens · 2 years ago

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I don't really subscribe to the "Mystra groomed Gale" fan theory (we know Larian is playing fast and loose with official Faerun timelines, but she only reappeared in 1487). Their relationship was more along the lines of a PhD candidate and their department chair is one of the top researchers in the field and their advisor, who initiates the relationship. (Or maybe he's among the top researchers, but she's the one who controls funding and grants and publishing and conferences.) He walked into that relationship flattered and thrilled and proud, only to realize after a while that Mystra is holding his metaphorical grades and thesis and future research opportunities hostage. And what is he if not his genius intellect?

Mystra's attention was flattering, but she could just as easily move on to the next hot young genius with the Weave. So he has to do the only thing he knows he is good for: be a genius with it. He wants knowledge (don't we all), she's rightfully gatekeeping it, and he knows that if he pushes, she'll toss him aside, frustrated with him. We get the impression that she only told him to stop wanting, but didn't give any reason why. Maybe Gale, in hubris, didn't listen. But no matter. Gale is convinced he's only good for his Magic, and Mystra is only with him for it, so he tries to do what any of us would do: impress her.

Why does Gale believe that he's only good for his Magic? Because society groomed him. Society viewed him as the genius wizard. Teachers only praised his abilities. He gets attention not for his other skills or personality traits, but because he's an eight year old who can cast Fireball with ease at at time when Mystra has barely started reconstituting herself. Society taught him the only thing people noticed was his skill. Look around at how many former gifted kids hit walls doing undergrad or grad school, don't understand how to take notes or how to study because it's always been innate, and burn out. Being able to read collegiate materials is no longer impressive when everyone is reading collegiate materials. A huge part of the identity of gifted kids, praised since childhood on their academic talents, gets lost when they hit this wall or realize they're no longer special. (Trust me, being teachers' pet and doing top-notch academically gives you an ego. Doubly so if your family are academics, which we have some evidence that Gale's family is at least moderately wealthy and/or connected with other mages.)

Is Mystra's relationship with ANY of her Chosen a good thing? I'd still say no, unless they both can keep it platonic and mentoring. (I had a great professor in college who did just that: mentored me. My high school physics teacher is still a friend. He was a guest at my wedding.) As soon as romance or sex enters that relationship, it's gonna be a bad time, even if the romance is one-sided on the part of the mortal. It's inherently difficult, shaky ground for a relationship, because of the power dynamics. If you piss her off enough, she can take your connection to the Weave away, and the closer you are to the situation, the more likely you are to think someone deserves punishment. And if she does punish you, it feels like not just a fall from grace but also like you are particularly a problem. There are evil mages all over, and Mystra hasn't taken their powers (the Weave is True Neutral, but still...you think every mortal mage is going to understand that if you eliminate the evil users it actually destabilizes the Weave?). She's the only god who can't really punish those that dramatically deviate from her alignment, because of what she is the god of. Think about that. Every other god can say "you are not following my rules, get out". She can only say that to her clerics and paladins (5e can kiss my ass, paladins need a patron to hear their promise), maybe to her Chosen, but certainly not to anyone who uses her power.

I love Gale, but this really puts things in a different light.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #i have opinions as the kid who was groomed into perfectionism and achievement related self-esteem more by teachers than by my parents #my parents gave me a whole other ball of trauma to deal with #but seriously who puts the label 'gifted' on a three year old (me)?#be civil in the comments or else

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msommers · 5 months ago

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☠☮♦ + riya and auretta!

thank youuuu mwah (had to rewrite half of this after tumblr erased it somebody end my suffering) // headcanon meme

☠ - angry/violent headcanon

RIYA — her first handful of attempts to cast fireball were failures where the magic fizzled out and she got angrier and angrier until that fury and determination built up enough to properly fuel the first successful cast. fantastic news progression wise, terrible news for her mama's nearby tapestry that caught the very edge of the blast radius and went up in flames. mid-teens Riya had the emotional comedown of the decade after feeling such intense frustration and anger that abruptly shifted to panic and tears once she saw the fire catching on Priscilla's things. (it's fine i'm sure Loren and/or some college mage was there to help douse the flames and mend the tapestry but yikes)

AURETTA — prime candidate for magic user whose power starts to flare up alongside her anger. kinda hot of her to snap at someone and they have to succeed a wisdom save right quick because the glare she leveled at them came along with some cute ✨ miniature sparks of lightning and a minor gust of wind to their chest to shove 'em back. she deserves that trope, especially the extreme of it where there's nearly a full ass thunderstorm brewing around her once she's reached furious or vengeful status. having divine magic from a deity of storms is kinda sexy and fun, i think

☮ - friendship headcanon

RIYA — god it must have been incredible to be one of Riya’s socialite friends back in Nevarra. can you imagine winning the ye olde fantasy party person game that hard? to be friends with the daughter of the richest woman in Cumberland who often hosts or funds others to arrange parties and have an invitation to them, and if she’s attending parties that aren’t hosted by her own family then you’re still welcome to accompany her to wherever she’s going because everybody knows she’ll be able to bat her eyelashes and be let into whatever event she wants?? with any size entourage she wants??? crazy. you won the lottery there with endless open invitations and the knowledge you could get down with one of the most fun ladies of the age’s social scene.

AURETTA — she and Gale become fast friends because he reminded her of some of the other wizards back on Taltempla. a well-studied man who isn’t afraid to start rambling on about the topics he’s knowledgeable on, equally as verbose as the elves but perhaps a bit quicker in speed on his delivery. he even has their ego and sheer audacity! truly makes her feel right at home just hanging with him for a few minutes lmao

♦ - quirks/hobbies headcanon

RIYA — just brought up being an ancient party girl so it’s as good a time as any to throw out the predictable fact of Riya’s favorite hobby being dancing. she was obsessed with the paint the town red lifestyle for many reasons, but attending events was the most fun way to guarantee a night of dancing to and enjoying musical performances. she misses dancing so much let her actually have fun at a fucking party for once they keep going so bad

AURETTA — it’s too boring and easy to bring up reading as one of her hobbies so i’m gonna not do that. i’m gonna come up w something else right now. on the spot. and that something else, that i know of for sure as i type, is board games. that actually sounds right, i think she’d enjoy a good game of chess or tric-trac (i’m deciding Faerun has it idc) with some playful taunting back and forth.

#ch: valeriya de clairmont #ch: auretta stormseeker #thought about riya doing those intimate romantic dance routines and i almost collapsed onto the floor #this was obvs about the more jovial and frivolous ones but i pictured the romance and now i'm dead bye #pause the whole blight riya needs to have a few of these dances w some people real quick

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hermanunworthy · 2 years ago

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Hi, there, Siren, hope you're doing well! If you're still taking dndads ship requests, how about maybe 35 for Cheerkicks/Oakli (not entirely sure on the name here, but. Link and Normal. You get it), please? Feeling in a silly rarepair mood today hehe 💚💚💚

Bullet Holes and Acne Scars (and Other Wounds to Heal)

35. kissing their bruises and scars

from the touch prompts list!

I WAITED A MONTH TO START ON THIS HELP 😭 trust me though ive been so excited about this one, oakicks makes me ill /pos (and also im glad i waited bc i got to use the latest episode as context for this scene!)

cw: violence (including gun violence), blood and injury

also on ao3!

Normal never would’ve taken Lincoln as a fighter, at first.

Ever since they were young, Lincoln has been timid, uptight, the type to go rigid if you get too close to him. Or maybe that’s just in Normal’s case. They’re working on it, though. He thinks. He hopes.

He never would've thought that the sweet kid he used to see kicking rocks in the corner or a soccer ball on a field would one day be kicking FBI agents and military soldiers on the battlefield. With the force of a beast.

Normal thinks he understands, now, why Lincoln’s dads tried to shelter their son so much.

But he also thinks he understands, as he’s too distracted looking at Lincoln to succeed at the spell he’s currently casting, the way he feels. He may not understand what it’s like to be unconditionally loved by his parents (something that arouses a deeply-rooted feeling of envy in him towards his friend, but that’s another thing he’s working on), but he understands what it’s like to feel pressured by his parents. And he thinks, in their own loving way, Lincoln’s dads have pressured him too much. And this is his release. His rebellion. Like a caged animal set free.

And Normal does believe he deserves this. However. It also concerns him greatly.

Because the paladin is moving so quickly, so aggressively, and the cleric is barely able to even keep an eye on him but it sounds like he's breathing heavily and at one point he thinks he catches a glimmer of something in his eye. And it all keeps distracting him from helping out in the battle himself.

Normal just narrowly avoids another incoming attack. Focus, Normal, fucking focus! He shakes his head, his heart pounding irregularly in his chest, trying to pay attention to anything other than Lincoln, Lincoln, is Lincoln okay—

“Norm!” Scary’s voice calls from a ways away, blasting a fireball directly into a man’s face. “Taylor could use your help!”

“No, I—!” Taylor immediately snaps back from where he stands off, holding a soldier back with their weapons clashed. “Uh, I mean… Yeah! Normie! We need you!”

Normal leaps straight into action, fueled by his friends’ words and ready to defend them, but realizes while he’s charging his spell just what’s going on. Something burns within him, something that has settled deep within his veins and has been repeatedly threatening to burst through these days. Do you really need my help, or do you just want to feel better about being such a dick to me lately?

His spell fizzles out in failure again, and he clutches his head and growls to himself. Lincoln, get out of my damn head!

“Norm— Augh!” Scary, in her distraction, takes a blunt melee attack to the head, knocking her down.

Taylor swivels around with a slash to his opponent to face Scary’s assailant. “What the hell?!” He jabs his sword toward the FBI agent. “Normal! What’s with the weaksauce spells?”

The blood is roaring in Normal’s ears so loudly that he can't even hear himself stuttering. He dizzily looks between Scary on the ground, Taylor standing off against the agent, and Lincoln, off in the distance, surrounded by soldiers. He's paralyzed. His lungs feel compressed tightly in his chest, and not even the strong emotion shooting through his blood is enough to awaken any magic.

Scary, thank the metaphorical heavens and not the godawful place they all visited earlier, manages to make it back onto her feet, but not without great effort. “You're—” She coughs. “You're good, Norm, you're good.”

The squeezing feeling in Normal’s chest somehow worsens. Stop it, don't say that. Why am I even here? I'm no help at all!

He stumbles backwards, and his back bumps into somebody. Before he can turn around to face them, a pair of burly arms are slung around his neck. Already short of breath, the cleric is easy to choke out, and his hands fly up to scratch at their sleeves. Panicking, he looks to Taylor, the closest nearby person, and cries out, “Help!”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Taylor drops what he’s doing and, like a true hero, blindly sprints over to slice the back of Normal’s attacker. The arms release him from the chokehold, and he falls to the ground, heaving for air.

But he isn't able to recover for long, because somebody is yanking him back up by his collar. He braces himself this time, but finds himself face-to-face with Taylor. His expression is twisted in anger, the way he looked at him the last time they argued.

“What the fuck was that, dude?! You can't even use a spell to help me, but you can use me to help you?” He shoves him, nearly toppling him back to the ground.

He… I used a Command on Taylor, didn't I? He didn't even realize. It was just instinct, of course he wouldn't just use his friend like that…

You only ever want to help yourself, a familiar voice scolds him in his head.

“Taylor, quit it, he’s already been…!” Scary is beginning to argue with him now, but Normal can't even pay attention to that anymore.

Lincoln is now fighting Agent Shmegan.

The man is trying to resist his attacks, shielding his body with his arms and trying to talk to him, but the paladin will not let up. “Kid, if you could just— You're making this harder than it needs to be, we just want—”

“I don't care what you want!” Lincoln roars, the first words Normal has heard him say during this entire fight. “I'm not going to listen to you anymore! I hate you adults! Fuck you!” He kicks him again, and again, and he's starting to lose his momentum with each swing but he refuses to give up. “Fuck you! Fuck you!”

Normal knows Lincoln has a history with this man, but he also can tell that this is not just about him and Taylor’s kidnapping.

“Li-Wilson— Please just get a hold of yourself and your friends—” Schmegan orders through grunts of pain. Normal knows Lincoln has been training hard to perfect his soccer kicks, so that can't feel good to take.

“Shut up! That’s Mr. Kicks to you!” The soccer player utilizes a swift kick to the crotch as emphasis.

While the FBI agent is finally doubled over in pain, unable to make any more demands, Lincoln’s body heaves with effort. He looks like he’s preparing another kick, but he’s cut short when a loud gunshot fires out, and he stumbles backwards.

“Link!” Normal shrieks, his body finally allowing him to move again, and he dives over to where his friend has fallen. As he gets close, it becomes apparent to him that Lincoln is crying, and he’s crying hard.

“Sir, let's get out of here.” Another agent, holding the gun used to shoot Lincoln, rushes over to Shmegan’s aid, helping him to lean on his shoulder and escort him back to their helicopter. “Freeman kept us from capturing the King, but we have him and his buddies as hostages for later. We need to retreat for now.”

Shmegan’s face contorts in pain and anger. “That better include Wilson. I have some words for that man about his son.”

The other agent chuckles wryly. “Oh, yes, sir. He’s been incapacitated since the fight began.” He looks down at where Lincoln sits, with no sense of remorse. “Seems we’re not the only ones disturbed by that kid’s violence.”

Normal is crouched by Lincoln’s side, trembling just as bad as he is. “Link, it’s Normal. Normal’s here.” God, that must be the least comforting thing he could hear right now. He must be the last person he wants to help him.

Normal’s hands are on Lincoln’s hands. Lincoln’s hands are on his knee. Lincoln’s blood is on his hands, on his knee, on his clothes, on the ground…

“Dad,” Lincoln sobs weakly. “Dad.”

All of Lincoln’s fight has left him. Now he’s just a scared, powerless little kid.

And so is Normal, now that he’s drained of magic. He can't cast any more spells. He used the last one to help himself. He can't heal his friend. And dear god, Lincoln’s still crying for his dad. But Grant has been captured. And so have the rest of their dads, it sounds.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck!

He presses down harder on the wound, but he can't tell if it’s even helping to stop the bleeding, or if it’s just him trying to squeeze Lincoln’s hands to help himself calm down. God fucking damn it, I'm so selfish, even as my friend is sitting here with an actual bullet wound… Can’t do shit for him…

He dares to look back up at Lincoln’s face, and finds it even worse to look at than all the blood. His eyes are scrunched up, leaking a river of tears down his face, his lips quivering with each shaking breath. It reminds him of when he got to see this boy as a baby, and how he promised him that it was going to be alright. He has to make this alright again, if it’s the last thing he does.

With one hand still pressing against his knee, Normal uses the other one to carefully lean forward and stroke his cheek again, wiping away some of his tears.

Lincoln opens his eyes, and when they meet Normal’s it’s clear that they are bloodshot and unfocused. “D-Dad…” he still whimpers. “Help…”

It hurts, knowing that he doesn't want Normal, but he tries to put himself in his shoes. What would I want from my dad, if I were him?

He knows Grant wouldn't know any healing spells. But he does know that he was very tender and affectionate with his son. He seems like he’s very gentle in how he cares for him, like he feels like his own dad has the potential to be.

He knows what he wanted his dad to do for him when he got hurt when he was younger. Grant seems like the type to care unconditionally, though. So, unlike his own dad, he ignores the disturbing and gross nature of this situation, and with all the love (and lack of magic) in his heart, he presses his lips lovingly against Lincoln’s knee as if it was simply the scraped knee of a child.

Lincoln gasps at the feeling, and Normal instantly regrets it, feeling like an utter idiot, He has an literal hole in his knee, I can't just kiss it better, this must be hurting him so bad—

“Normal,” Lincoln chokes at last. He grabs one of his friend’s hands and squeezes it with enough strength to break him. “Normal.”

The cleric lets out a squeak from the strong grip, but watches as a golden light begins to slowly, slowly glow from underneath the paladin’s other hand, which is still on his knee. He’s casting Lay on Hands on himself. Oh, Normal didn't even think about the fact that Lincoln hasn't been using any magic, so he probably could've…

But no, Lincoln wasn't able to help himself before, was he? It wasn't until Normal kissed him that that something in his eyes cleared, like a fog being lifted. Did Normal actually help? Or is he just being selfish, just taking credit for something that had nothing to do with—

“Thank you, Normal,” Lincoln breathes. The words he’s been wanting to hear all this time. Normal’s heart squeezes at the sound.

“Did you…” Normal’s own voice feels thick in his throat, and he realized just then that he has tears dripping down his face as well. “Did you even realize what you were doing? How hard you were fighting?”

More tears begin to roll down Lincoln’s cheeks. “It… There was no pain… At first… Only anger…”

He squeezes his friend’s hand back, but it’s not nearly as strong. Not as strong as Lincoln, never. “I was so worried, it felt like losing you…”

Lincoln’s face crumples again, and Normal can hardly bear to look at it. “Normal…”

His eyes wander over Lincoln’s body, realizing that there are other spots of blood not just from the gunshot. All sorts of cuts and bruises, all of which look very painful, but Lincoln hasn't acknowledged any of them. That “zone” that he seems to get into, that rush of adrenaline, that thrill of violence, must be a very, very dangerous place for him to be in. He never wants to lose his friend to that darkness again.

So he shows him the light. He leans in close to each wound, trailing the gentlest of kisses over the dark spots on his legs and the nasty gashes on his arms, never once shying away from the blood or the hair or the sweat or the filth because it's all normal to him, and even though he knows it's selfish to give Lincoln what he wants for himself, he wants to love Lincoln like he’s perfectly new.

“Normal,” is all Lincoln can say now, through his continued crying. “Normal, Normal…” The way he’s whimpering his name, like a prayer upon his lips, only fuels him further, the way it feels to have replenished magic surging through his veins.

It isn't until he gets tugged away by his hair that he realizes he should probably stop. But Lincoln's hand doesn’t move from the back of his head, and when he looks up at him, Lincoln just stares back, his pupils wide. “Normal,” he whispers again.

Lincoln’s gaze is roaming over his face, and especially over the blood drying on his mouth. Normal can taste it, he realizes self-consciously.

“How can you still be so nice to me?” His eyes shine with a horrible, heart-wrenching guilt, a guilt that Normal can feel himself as he fights the overwhelming need to kiss the one little cut that he missed, the one he’s been avoiding, because he knows it would be too selfish of him.

The one on his lip.

“I'm… so sorry.” Lincoln’s fingers loosen in his hair, but Normal still leans his head into his hand before he can decide to let go entirely. “For how I've… I've been so…”

“It's okay, Link,” Normal murmurs, even though he doesn't know if it's true. It’s just hard to focus on the long-term pain this boy has caused him when said boy is caressing the back of his neck so delicately that it makes him melt.

“No. You're my friend. You're my husband.” The certainty with which he says it brings Normal a shiver. “I need to make it up to you.”

This time, Lincoln is the one leaning forward. Normal freezes up, his face flushing red as his husband’s lips land on his cheek.

But Normal doesn't understand. He doesn't need healing, he doesn't have any scars. Not on the outside, anyway.

Is he… kissing my tears away?

Another kiss. And another. Each touch of his lips to his face leaves him with a feeling of warmth and light. Lincoln even reaches with his bloody hands to brush the sweaty hair sticking to Normal’s skin out of the way, and begins to leave kisses on his forehead as well.

Oh. He’s kissing his acne scars.

More tears run down where Lincoln has kissed. Nobody has ever… He's always been told that he's gross, that his acne is a problem, something to be ashamed of. He has spent countless hours staring at himself in the mirror, popping pimples and picking at scabs (despite his sister’s warnings), wondering why he has to look like this and if anyone could ever love him like this. His parents would never do something like this for him.

But Lincoln is. Lincoln, the one he’s been trying to win over for years. Lincoln, the kid he always wanted to play with but wasn't allowed to. Lincoln, the friend who always seemed to shut him down no matter how hard he tried to love him. That same guy is here, sitting on the ground in literal Hell, a bullet in his knee and blood on his clothes, his fingers curling in his greasy hair and his lips kissing his pockmarked face.

“I'm sorry,” Lincoln whispers tearfully against his skin. “Thank you for… for being my friend. For being you.”

As he pulls back, Normal pushes forward, resting his forehead against Lincoln’s. “I love you,” he sighs, selfishly but honestly. He hopes it brings Lincoln as much catharsis as it does him.

Lincoln glances up from where his eyes sat downcast at the blood on the ground, to stare into his husband’s eyes. His hand on Normal’s neck drifts to his jaw. Eyes still glittering sadly, he offers a smile, but the stretching of his lips opens his cut and makes him wince away in pain.

Normal reaches forward with a careful hand, and catches Lincoln’s chin. He really hopes this isn't going too far, too fast, too bold, like he always seems to be going without realizing it. “Let me…?” He can't even finish the question, can't bear another rejection.

But Lincoln beats him to it, kisses him first, kisses him better. Cradles him with such love and care that you’d think he’s the one being nursed back to health.

And it is undoubtedly healing. Something Normal has needed for a long time. Something that tastes like blood and grime and filth, something that tastes so normal and familiar that it feels like coming home. Feels like being blessed by an angel visiting Hell.

After all, Normal always thought Lincoln was more of a lover than a fighter.

#oakicks #cheerkicks #normal oak #lincoln li wilson #dndads #dndads fanfic #dndads fic #my fic #touch prompts

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pippingender · 2 months ago

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dashboard simulator for my dnd campaign with my friends

👨🏻‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏻 magnaliamayor-official Follow

Party at my house tonight!

#magnalia #party town #official announcements from the government of magnalia

609 notes

🐣 proserperepeopletwitter Follow

🐉 dungeon-memes-for-dragon-teens Follow

9944 notes

👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨 princesagefanpage Follow

Ugghh Prince Sage is so hot... he's the real king to me

🧔🏻‍♂️ magnaliamayor-official Follow

Katie you need to get over him, he's not interested in you

👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨 princesagefanpage Follow

Who's Katie? That's totally not my name, I've never met anyone named Katie, my name is something else

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castle-girlie-deactivated18540927 Follow

portcullis!

🏰 architecturebro Follow

PORTCULLIS!

🖼️ professor-portcullis Follow

gaslight GATEkeep girlboss amirite

📝 nat20dotcom Follow

always reblog portcullis

🧝‍♂️ randomelfinthebackground

this is incredibly offensive for you to post this. my friend, hogborts shampjorch, grew up in a cage in his family's basement and wasn't able to escape out into the world until just recently. please at least tag things like this so that people can avoid it

#tw portcullis #tw cage

101,697 notes

🗳️ proserpere-polls Follow

🫅🏻 monarchysupporter Follow

Anyone who answered anything other than King Ezra is a traitor

📖 anarchy-thehedgehog Follow

Why are we even bothering to vote on this? You're all acting like we live in a democracy, king ezra lierally did a coup, none of this matters

👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨 princesagefanpage Follow

Prince Sage forever!

🫡 totally-not-a-cult-member Follow

prince sage foreverr!

23,551 notes

👻 mayhemmayhemmayhem Follow

Check out my latest video! Showing off my mug collection!

🍻 the-proserpere-tavern Follow

Ealith Mayhem, return the mug you stole from us immediately! Or you will be banned from the premises!

👻 mayhemmayhemmayhem Follow

Uhhh I don't know what you're talking about

#all my mugs were obtained legally #please don't ban me from your tavern #you have the best karaoke nights!!!

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👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨 princesagefanpage Follow

Just stepped on glass AGAIN

#whyyy did i come to magnalia #worst place ever #everyone's just drunk all the time

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📖 dr-lindril-phd Follow

I just published my most recent paper! Using a purely theoretical approach, we investigate the effects of casting fireball on attacking your enemies. You can find it here: arxiv.org/list/magic-th/new

#paper day! #theoretical wizardry #magic academia #grad school

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🐉 dungeon-memes-for-dragon-teens Follow

6077 notes

🙏 true-love-enjoyer Follow

sune says everyone in this world is deserving of love and compassion

🙏 true-love-enjoyer Follow

except followers of malar, those guys suck

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🐉 dungeon-memes-for-dragon-teens Follow

no one:

choco grande for some reason:

220 notes

🤰 if-a-women-has-starch-masks Follow

is looking worse for wear

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⚓️ chocothegrande Follow

get rid of fog cloud

⚓️ chocothegrande Follow

how to get rid of fog cloud

⚓️ chocothegrande Follow

banish fog cloud

⚓️ chocothegrande Follow

this fog cloud won't stop following me someone help aaaaahhh

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🗡️ spearmaiden Follow

haste! hell yeah! i attack with my spear!

🗡️ spearmaiden Follow

i attack with my spear!

🗡️ spearmaiden Follow

i attack with my spear!

🗡️ spearmaiden Follow

i attack with my spear!

🗡️ spearmaiden Follow

i attack with my spear!

🗡️ spearmaiden Follow

i attack with my spear!

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🥄 liverspoon Follow

I can't believe there are still people on this site who actually support S*las when he literally threw a bunch of people off a roof, you're all forcing me to update my DNI list AGAIN smh

DNI if you support that traitor

DNI if you support throwing people off roofs

🏠 worse-for-wear Follow

WOW, so you're saying anyone with a roof is a bad person?

🚪 on-its-last-legs Follow

also like, idk but some of us have difficulty going up and down stairs and the roof can be a way easier way to get out of the house, pretty ableist take OP

♟ no1silasstan Follow

silas did NOT do that, that's a lie they're telling to justify taking over all of proserpere! do NOT believe that propaganda

855 notes

🗡️ spearmaiden Follow

I kick down the door!

🪕 bearlover3804567 Follow

👻 mayhemmayhemmayhem Follow

^ guy who is about to take door damage

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👻 mayhemmayhemmayhem Follow

16 notes

#dnd #post of a took

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glutenfreebreadroll · 2 years ago

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My first character death was at the hands of a player character. Everyone else was killed by the big bad except me, a lawful good druid/Barbarian, and a chaotic evil sorcerer across from me. He landed the killing blow on the boss and attained God hood. He updated his character sheet and cast fireball at me. He hit. I told him he could let me go and I wouldn't even ask for the macguffin. Just so I could play the character again someday. He refused and killed me. The dm let me roll a final religion check and gave me a theatric death. I went to elysium. That character is officially the God of that region. I feel like that wasn't a good experience. After it ended I asked if I could get a ride home. They told me no, and the sorcerer turned God told me I better get my feet running. I left shortly after and about 20 minutes later the dm called and asked where I was. I told him I was going to walk the nearly 5 hours home because no one was able to give me a ride. He told me they were joking and sent one of the party members that had had also had a player death to drive me home. We talked about the session. I explained how unwelcome I felt and what happened from my perspective. He told me that the sorcerer has been left out and that he deserved a win. I don't know how I feel about that as an answer.

#dnd #dungeons and dragons #autism

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theregoesmylurkerstatus · 4 years ago

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Caleb has, verbally, shown so little bloodthirst regarding the people who wronged him. He doesn’t know how he feels. He doesn’t know what he wants. He wants them to change, he wants the pain to stop. He wants to rehabilitate all these murderers under Ikithon because he was one of them and he wants to believe he’s not alone in this, he wants them to get better.

He also takes three steps into the place where he was sealed away like some kind of animal, full of simple (if skilled) guards who are so much lower on the food chain than the assassins Caleb knows... and for the first time ever he starts crushing people to death. Gone is the soft talk and hesitant hope. He asserts that they knew what they were doing. That they were not innocents.

He spent eleven years there. He can’t remember it. He also can’t think of the people who did that to him as people, whether they were actually the ones that guarded him or not.

I think Caleb’s trauma and his ability to react with extreme prejudice when confronted with it often gets underestimated both by the audience and Caleb himself. There’s a really interesting dichotomy that seems to go on with him, in that we’re constantly taken somewhat aback by these breathtaking displays of violence of his, even though they keep happening.

I realised it when we first met Astrid, actually. I don't know about anyone else, but the revelation that Caleb’s reaction to watching his parents die wasn’t running in to help them, or screaming himself, or even dissociating, but was instead attacking his peers? It surprised the heck out of me.

I don’t think anyone thought that would have been his reaction. All the pieces of fiction or art or meta about that moment that I saw assumed he had a much more passive or help oriented reaction. Even the cast themselves animated that moment as Astrid and Eodwulf stoically walking away from a silent Caleb on his knees in their own animated title sequence.

The fact that we all accepted the image of Caleb, on his knees, silently watching his family burn, is interesting to me. Because I do get why.

When Caleb is forcefully reminded of that moment of extreme grief, he dissociates. He doesn’t react violently when lost in his trauma in that particular way. Add to that that Caleb brushes over the immediate aftermath of his parent’s deaths, which makes it seem like his foggy, clouded state in the Asylum was the instant result of his trauma, and the idea that Caleb reacted passively to his parent’s deaths is a very easy assumption to make.

At this point I believe it’s also indicative of how Caleb sees himself. Caleb hates (hated?) himself, yes, but he doesn’t actually seem to see himself as a violent person. When asked to impress a high level mage from an alien culture, he chose the versatile reskinned Bigby’s Hand, Cat’s Ire. When trying to be intimidating, he uses his words, or points to his friends as threats, or uses Frumpkin as a prop.

He doesn’t seem to give his ease with violence much thought or weight in his own view of himself. I think he assumed he was passive during his years at the Sanitarium, and so therefore assumed that his “breaking” was similar. And if that’s what Caleb thought of himself, why would we think any different?

People don’t tend to think of Caleb as a fighter, least of all Caleb himself. The common view of him is that he’s a hesitant support character. He’s not someone who fans or other characters alike would easily call “bloodthirsty,” especially with him confronting and discussing the man who ruined his life and refusing to commit to killing him.

Everything about how Caleb verbally approaches these traumas shows that he’s not vengeance driven. Revenge has never been part of his game plan, never been something he cared enough to pursue. And because of that palpable lack of bloodthirsty vengeance, because of his soft spoken, cautious demeanor, Caleb is not someone who would generally be picked as having extreme, unrelenting violence as his knee-jerk reaction.

Except that’s exactly what Caleb does when backed into a corner. That’s like his biggest move. Wall of Fire and Fireballing Avantika and her crew on a hair trigger? Bleeding, on the verge of unconsciousness, out of spells, and still managing to deal the killing blow on Lorenzo because he chose violence over any other action? Opening the final fight against Obann by smashing through the window and burning half the cultists to death, because they were that desperate to get Yasha back after two failed attempts?

He woke up after eleven years of being addled, confused and not himself, and immediately killed a guard and broke out of the Assembly’s own Saitarium in the heart of Rexxentrum. He unexpectedly got stabbed by a full-fledged Scourger, and his instant reaction was to beat her over the head with a rock.

And now, he’s infiltrated that same Sanitarium where he was kept only to flip from his desire to redeem those under the Assembly’s thumb to murdering half the people he came across in there with extreme prejudice.

His lack of interest in long-term vengeance is interestingly balanced by his frequent choices to pursue short-term retribution. It’s both his way of protecting his friends and himself, removing the threat and discouraging other threats, but it’s also, in my view, frequently an outlet for his heavily suppressed anger at the people who hurt him and his friends.

Caleb can be a good diplomat, but Caleb rarely chooses to be a diplomat. Caleb can be charming, but Caleb doesn’t like being charming. Caleb can be a good support caster, and Caleb is a support caster! But when he’s too compromised for strategy, when he stops thinking, he starts burning everything in his way. Because Caleb? He likes the way fire feels.

Caleb spent his formative years training to respond to conflict, physical or political, with lethality, and on a much more fundamental level, he is and always has been a man of action.

He took action to get out of the Sanitarium as soon as he was capable. He took action in the Bright Queen’s throne room, made a risky ploy instead of letting them be arrested. He wanted to take action retroactively against his parent’s deaths the second he regained coherency.

Despite what we all assumed, doing nothing in the face of his parent’s deaths was never an option for Caleb, and he wasn’t taught anything that was going to help his parents once the house was on fire and the screams started. So what else was he going to do, after two years of growing into the Scourger mould? When he loses his mind, his ability to think, two of his reasons to care?

Of course it was violence. Of course it was lashing out at the people he must have thought, on some level, as being in his way. Of course it was fire. What else would it be?

And though these circumstances here aren’t the same... there are enough similarities. He’s once again in those familiar halls (in that familiar mindset) where he was treated as a weapon, nothing more. He’s with the people he loves and he knows they’re in danger, again. In fact, they’re in danger from the same people he spent eleven years feeling threatened by, that he viewed as obstacles, whether consciously or not.

He doesn’t want his loved ones to be in danger. He doesn’t want to be surrounded by the guards who he associates with his own helplessness. He especially doesn’t want those two things to go together. And he has never been able to sit idly by when he can act. But what kind of actions can he take? What can he do to get these guards away, away from him, away from his friends, out of his way, right now?

The tried and true method. Not burning, not here, not now, let’s not set a building on fire with his loved ones in it again (though it happened anyway). But no matter. He’s learned a lot of tricks in the last few months.

And hey, don’t worry, Caleb’s not angry. He’s not still working through his own pain and rage at these people. He really does want to heal, not hurt.

It’s just that these ones deserved it.

#critical role #cr spoilers #c2e127 #c2e89 #ramblings #caleb #speculation #its interesting because he has such a good hold on his temper and he tries to think through most situations #which means he DOESNT get pushed to that breaking point a lot #and its usually only that breaking point that showcases how easily he wields violence #which is another factor in why he doesnt get regarded as a violent character #because he isnt! he really doesnt get violent often! its just something thats instinctive for him #his instinctive reactions though are not often seen bc he usually has a pretty good control over himself and situations around him #and i think its really really telling when he gets pushed into that mindset when theyre NOT at deaths door #hey caleb i dont think you're as ready for forgiveness and moving on as you think #theres a lot of buried rage in caleb and you can quote me on that #ive been saying it for months (years?) and ive only grown more confident in that assertion since then #sorry if this is an incoherent mess #does this make sense? i dont knoooow im sick of looking at it

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cinaed · 2 years ago

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Meeting NPCs from your PC's backstory is always so fun, because as much as you think you're prepared, you are never really prepared.

My Order of Scribes wizard, writing to his arcane ethics professor and mentor who taught him everything about magic, grappling with killing his first person:

I didn’t learn magic to kill. I didn’t learn it to turn Es into a conduit for spells cast with anger and violence. I know, objectively, that we wouldn’t have been able to convince Calia to change her mind, but is it strange that I still feel regret? Perhaps not. Maybe it’s almost a comfort that I feel this way. I don’t want death to ever feel like an easy choice.

His professor, professor of arcane ethics and evocation magic, turning out to be part of a secret Archive also fighting the cult he's fighting, handing him a Bracelet of Fireball after he rescues her from the cult:

Here's my ethical consideration. If anyone hurts my brave, foolish boy, they deserve 13d6 fire damage and to be incinerated into ash. Love you. Don't die.

#dnd

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iturbide · 4 years ago

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distractions huh? SO [chinhands] tell me your most and least favorite aspects of the fe16 lords and fe13 main character (which i’m saying Lissa counts for this because she deserves it)

Lissa is absolutely a main character and to imply otherwise is a travesty

but oh we're gonna go deep huh

okay so starting with the 3H Lords (I'm sticking to the House Leaders because I can't really count Byleth as a Lord)

Most Favorite

Claude: I mean. I love everything about Claude, you know? If I had to pick one favorite thing, though, it's how kind he is. He had a rough past of his own, and he could very easily have decided to take that out on others -- but instead, he sets his sights on changing the world so that no one else will ever have to suffer the way he did. He might be secretive and keep his cards close to the vest, but strip away the mystery and he's an incredibly good person.

Dimitri: The fact that his mental health is taken seriously. Dimitri has some pretty extreme trauma in his past, and it's implied that even after he's able to face some of that, his mental health struggles will continue for the rest of his life. And that's amazing, given how mental health problems are usually just hand-waved away in media as "cured" by something when that's not how it works in reality. It's just really nice to see.

Edelgard: I actually really like how driven she is. She is a woman who has the will to change the world and she refuses to stop until she does that, even if it means getting her hands dirty in the process. That is a gripping trait and one that can be fascinating in a well-nuanced character but IntSys dropped the ball on that.

Least Favorite

Claude: I have to scrape the bottom of the barrel to find anything I don't like about Claude at all. I do roll my eyes at IntSys' implied history for him in some magazine or something: having lots of half-siblings and getting pushed around by the family, which doesn't exactly reflect well on his dad in my view, similar to the whole Concubine Wars thing that Garon could have addressed but didn't which led to lots of child murder. But thankfully that's not canon as far as I'm concerned so I can safely complain about it and then re-write it to be better.

Dimitri: The effective 180 turn in Dimitri's mindset after Rodrigue's death. I love the actual arc of Dimitri's story, the generally positive approach to mental health issues and managing them, but having his sudden improvement be linked to Rodrigue's death...if not counter-intuitive, then questionable, given how well he knew the man and how deeply traumatized he's been by similar deaths in his presence (including Rodrigue's elder son).

Edelgard: The gross obsession with Byleth that IntSys wrote into Crimson Flower. I hate that so much. It makes sense to me that the war gets deadlocked in other routes (the Alliance is laying low while the Kingdom and Empire go at it in Verdant Wind, the Empire is struggling against terrain and weather conditions while trying to root out Kingdom holdouts in Azure Moon), but the heavy implication in Crimson Flower is that Edelgard's effort stagnated because she was so focused on finding Byleth rather than actually doing anything. That's an absolute travesty to me, given how interesting her character could be.

And as for my Awakening mains (Lucina's technically the tritagonist right? so she's in here too):

Most Favorite

Chrom: I love how open he is to people. This man has made so many ill-advised recruitment decisions including: A) an amnesiac Plegian, B) a thief that infiltrated Ylisstol Castle as part of an assassination mission, C) an enemy Plegian mage who didn't throw a fireball at him, and D) a second Plegian mage that just showed up out of nowhere with a bunch of birds. He doesn't cast aspersions, he doesn't judge based on past or occupation or heritage, he's just "welcome aboard, please don't stab me in the back." Also his unshakeable faith in Robin even after Validar forces them to steal the Fire Emblem from him gets me every damn time.

Robin: I love that Robin and Grima are linked. I love this so much, because while there are tons of different interpretations for what that link is, one hard fact is that Robin is an incredibly kind person who cares deeply about people and wants to keep them safe. No matter how evil Grima might be, the irrefutable fact is that Robin -- who is directly linked to the fell dragon -- is a kind and caring person, meaning Grima's direct presence is not corrupting or a sign that someone is evil.

Lissa: I love the dichotomy between her bright, cheerful personality and her deep-seated insecurities about her absent Brand. She's so energetic and so fun, a bit of a prankster and insistent that she's not delicate and therefore doesn't need to be coddled -- but deep down, she's clearly worried about her place in the family because she doesn't have the Brand her brother and sister do. The fact that Owain's Brand surfacing led her to cry for an hour speaks volumes about how that issue affects her, and I just love how both of these things exist in the same character.

Lucina: I love how strong she is. This is a young woman who has lost most of her family, whose world has fallen to ruin, and who now struggles to survive -- and rather than give into despair in the face of all these horrors and losses, she instead leads those able to fight against an undead threat and protect those who cannot defend themselves from that same danger. I have no doubt that she relies heavily on her closest allies (much as her father did before her), but she has shouldered this role without flinching, and it speaks volumes about her personal strength.

Least Favorite

Chrom: I've mentioned this before, but I'm really disappointed that we don't get full follow-through on his character when it comes to absorbing Emmeryn's lessons. We got to see him reach out and try to talk Walhart down! That was a great moment, even though it failed! But we never get to see him do the same with Grima -- and I have a feeling Emmeryn would still have tried to speak with the fell dragon, just as she tried to speak with Gangrel at the Border Pass early in the game. It just feels like they dropped the ball at the end, and that's a shame to me.

Robin: This is petty and minor and technically a wider issue than just Robin, but I kind of hate that Robin in canon is so pale-skinned. Robin is Plegian, they were born in a desert nation, their father is very dark-skinned, and then here's Robin, pale as a ghost. This affects Henry and Tharja, too (Gangrel could use further work, too, though I tend to think he's actually part Feroxi), and carries with it some really uncomfortable implications given that our evil Plegians are dark-skinned (Gangrel's a weird case again, given that he's kind of grey-looking for some reason???), but all our recruitable ones are pale. Seriously, IntSys, what the fuck.

Lissa: This is a personal thing but I'm disappointed in her Supports with Robin. Like, sure, the whole pranking thing is entertaining, but especially given the fact that they can have an S support, that's really shaky ground. I wish they could have had something more poignant, something with more meaning -- my first preference is, as always, a discussion of Brands, even if Robin's didn't come up -- rather than it just being a prank war ending in a stalemate. That doesn't even feel like a recipe for friendship.

Lucina: I really wish we'd seen her grow more. I know we only get her halfway through the game, but that's more than enough time for her to see how Chrom and Robin act and interact, how they trust each other, and how much they mean to each other, regardless of marital status. The only way that Lucina will falter in her judgment is if Robin is her other parent or if she's married to Robin, which makes it feel like she's missed a lot of her father's best lessons. I really wish she'd faltered even in the normal version, been unable to bring herself to take a life even believing that it was the way to save her father.

#answered #banyanas #fire emblem: awakening #fire emblem: three houses #i have opinions okay #but also i love these games and these characters #i wanted better from edelgard #if she'd only been handled more adeptly i might have been a fan

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bleachanimefan1 · 4 years ago

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Oblitus Part 32

Nothing Left To Lose

34 Days Left Until Extermination...

Husk growled and flew towards Gabriel, claws aimed to strike. Gabriel quickly dodged Husk's attack and flew higher into the air, hovering above everyone. Gabriel shifted his gaze over to Anna and darted towards her. Alastor called upon several shadows and ordered them to slow the angel down. The shadows did as they were told and chased after Gabriel. They bound the angel as they wrapped around him, stalling the angel for a bit.

Alastor phased and shifted over to Anna, kneeling beside her. Anna still refused to look at him, scooting away as Alastor came closer to her. Alastor's smile began to twitch, now growing more irritated by Anna's actions.

"Stop ignoring me," "At least let me heal your wound."

Anna frowned and turned her head back, glaring at Alastor.

"Why do you care?" she spatted out. "You said and done more than enough to me. Leave me alone."

"I don't want to do this, but you've forced my hand," Alastor sighed. Anna's eyes widened as Alastor snapped his fingers, ordering his shadow to hold her down. Anna struggled to get Alastor's shadow off of her, but it only gripped tighter. Alastor focused his attention to the glass shard embedded deep in Anna's leg. He quickly pulled it out and placed his hand over the wound just as the blood began to spill out. Alastor chanted a spell and the cut slowly began to close up, healing itself. As it was fully closed up, Alastor's shadow released Anna.

"This doesn't change anything." she replied.

"Woman, you are driving me crazy! What more do you want from me?" Alastor shouted. "I'm sorry, okay! I'm sorry that I said those things to you." Anna looked down, still refusing to look at him.

"Why should I believe anything that you say?" she sighed. "You already told me what you really felt about me."

"Because you mean more to me than you ever realize." Anna gasped as her eyes widen as she turned to Alastor.

Angel was watching the whole scene unfold between Alastor and Anna. He stared at them for a moment before something clicked and he let out a loud dramatic gasp.

"Oh my god! You actually fucked with the radio demon?!" he shouted so loudly that everyone in the area could hear him. Anna and Alastor cringed now that their secret was out.

"You did what?!" Vaggie and Charlie shouted in disbelief and shock.

"No way!" Niffty and Baxter shouted.

"Angel..." Alastor warned the spider demon with a strained smile. "I'm not exactly sure if everybody in Hell heard you, and I hope they didn't. But, I strongly advise you to shut your mouth, now."

"Now, I have to know before I die! Anna, did Alastor have a tail? How was he in bed?" Angel asked. "I'm still in shock that you've actually managed to get Smiles to do it! I've been trying for ages!"

"I'm not telling you that!" Anna shouted, blushing. She wanted to die now, Alastor did as well.

Suddenly, their was a loud shriek and everyone looked up to see that every single one of Alastor's shadows have been destroyed. Gabriel glared down at everyone.

"I've had enough of your ignoramus games!" he shouted, angrily. "I'm ending this once and for all!"

Husk screeched as he flew behind Gabriel, ready to strike. He slashed his claws, only to miss Gabriel by an inch. Then Gabriel appeared behind the cat demon. Husk fell down, unconscious, as Gabriel managed to slice one of his wings off.

"Husk!" Alastor and Anna shouted.

"Husky!" Angel called out.

Before anyone could do anything, Gabriel reappeared right in front of Alastor and slashed. Alastor blocked with his staff only to be kicked, and slashed on his side, as he fell to the ground.

"Alastor!" Anna called out. She froze as she saw Gabriel turn his attention towards her. Just as he was about to attack, Niffty had smacked him right across the face with her shoe as she tossed it.

Slowly, Gabriel turned to Baxter and Niffty, growling.

"She didn't mean it!" Baxter shouted.

"Yes, I did!" Niffty shouted.

Then Gabriel lunged at Baxter and Niffty, attacking them. The two screamed as the angel came closer, with sword raised to strike them down. Vaggie jumped in front of them and blocked Gabriel's sword with her spear. She tried to push Gabriel back, but he was stronger. Gabriel knocked Vaggie back, sending her crashing to the ground. Gabriel raised his sword to strike Vaggie, but, a fireball shot out, stopping him.

"Enough!" Charlie shouted. "This doesn't have to end like this. Can't we come to an agreement or a deal or something? Please, we don't have to fight!"

"I don't want to hear any words from spawn of a traitor!" Gabriel shouted. He darted towards Charlie, ready to bring his sword down on her.

"Charlie!" Vaggie and Anna cried out.

Just as Gabriel brought his sword down. A loud clang was heard as Gabriel's sword was blocked by another.

"You..." Gabriel growled. Charlie stared with wide eyes at who had saved her.

"Dad," she whispered.

"Ah, Gabriel, lovely to see you again," Lucifer smiled. "How's the fam? How's Michael doing?"

"Better off without you," Gabriel spatted. However, Gabriel was interrupted when Lucifer head-butted him, knocking him back, as he fell to the ground on his butt.

"Y-You wretched bas-"

"Uh, uh, don't temp the lord's name in vain. As dad would like to say," Lucifer scolded, wagging his finger at Gabriel, chuckling.

"You don't deserve to speak of him!" Gabriel shouted.

"Dad, why are you here?" Charlie asked.

"I was just strolling around in the streets," Lucifer explained. "Then I heard the sirens, followed by loud screams and explosions and here I am! Which brings me to why I am here." He turned to Gabriel. "Like my daughter had said earlier, can't we come to a deal? I don't want to bring any more bloodshed as there already is, especially a war between Heaven and Hell."

"What are you saying?" Gabriel asked, narrowing his eyes at Lucifer. Lucifer laughed.

"Well, it wouldn't look good for you, Gabriel, for starters," he told him. Gabriel froze. "If dad found out that you broke our agreement: He doesn't bother me and I don't bother him, vice versa, etc. and yadda yadda yadda. So, if he finds out that you came down here, before extermination day has even began and attacked my only daughter. It would be chaos." Gabriel's eyes widen before he glared at Lucifer.

"What are you suggesting?" Lucifer made a twisted smile.

"I'm glad that you're listening to me for once," he said. "Now, my daughter had mentioned that she was starting a silly redemption idea to save sinners." Charlie frowned at her dad as he continued. "As you can see, one was actually able to redeem themselves. If she is able to save another then more are surely to follow. This is where you come in. I want you to tell everyone up there about my Charlotte's hotel and allow access to the saved souls."

"That's preposterous!"

"Then let's call dad and see what he has to say about this," Lucifer smirked as he saw Gabriel began to sweat nervously. "I'm sure he would love to find out that you ignored him. I wonder what he would do? Cast you out like he did to me?"

"Don't turn this around on me! YOU led a rebellion against father!" Gabriel argued. Lucifer ignored him and continued.

"Strip of you of your status and wings? Maybe, even exile you on some begotten place?" he giggled "Ooh, I'd pay money to see that happen!"

"You sick demented freak!" Gabriel snarled. He sighed, defeated. "Fine, I will tell everyone about your daughter's hotel." He muttered out like it was acid in his mouth.

"Good boy. Now, get out of my home," Lucifer said. "Before I make you."

Just as Gabriel was about to take off, he glanced over at Anna glaring at her then left.

"I can't believe you actually managed to get him to listen to you," Charlie said.

"Like, I told you Charlotte, don't take shit from no one." Lucifer told her "Now, I must go and check on my lily and tell her that you're alright." Then he paused and looked at Alastor.

"Oh, and Alastor it's been lovely talking with you earlier," he smirked. "I do hope that you and your little lady have a wonderful time together while it last." He chuckled evilly and left.

"What a strange guy?" Anna replied.

"You tell me," Alastor agreed. He narrowed his eyes at the king as he left.

"Gabriel, it's about time that you've showed up," Michael called out as he saw Gabriel land. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

" I did and you're not going to believe it. But, there is a human woman who is still alive down there," Gabriel told him.

"Then we must get her out of there!" Michael said, alarmed. "The longer she stays down there, she will never be able to come here if she dies. She'll be a demon permanently."

"And that is not all, I've met with our former brother, Lucifer," Gabriel spatted out. Michael froze, stunned.

"Y-You-You saw him! What did he say?! What happened, Gabriel?"

"He is building an army to over throw father once again." Gabriel lied. "There is a hotel down there who is housing them."

"Then, we must warn father at once!" Michael said, startled by the news. "He has to know!" He was about to leave but Gabriel grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

"No!" Gabriel hissed. "Father, already has enough on his plate, as it is. We must do this ourselves."

"What do we need to do?" Michael asked, unsure. This is going against everything that their father had told them to do. He really should tell him, but what if Gabriel was telling the truth?

"For now, I need you to keep quiet about this. We don't want to cause a panic." Gabriel told him. "Once the time is right, we will secretly strike and take down Lucifer with our army and put an end to all of this once and for all and everyone and everything will be at peace once again."

Michael looked down. He is going to have to face his brother again? This time to kill him? He couldn't do it the first time...There was no way he could kill his twin.

"There has to be another way. Please, tell that there is...I can't kill Luci-"

"I need you with me, Michael. Are you in or not?" Gabriel asked, growing more impatient. "What is it going to be?"

"I won't do this." Michael finally answered, looking at Gabriel, as he shook his head. Gabriel sighed and stepped up, pulling Michael closer to him, to hug him.

"I shouldn't have asked you to do this. This is too much for you," he told him. "For that,...I'm sorry for this."

"Gabriel, what are you-" Michael grunted in pain as Gabriel plunged his sword straight through his chest, ripping one of his wings as it did, making it difficult to fly.

Michael's vision began to grow heavy and blurry, seeing Gabriel growing smaller and smaller as he was tossed, falling over the edge. Michael was now plummeting heading further down into the city below him until his vision went dark.

He crashed.

The last thing that Michael could remember, before he succumbed to darkness, was hearing a woman screaming.

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fanfoolishness · 4 years ago

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in the long night (Hawke x Varric)

Written for @oneshallop and also up on AO3. They requested Hawke and Varric on the Deep Roads expedition with some early hints of pining. I hope it fits the bill! 2836 words, Hawke, Varric, Act 1 of DA2.

***

It was dark.

Varric almost roared with laughter at the thought. Of course it was dark. It was the Deep fucking Roads, wasn’t it?

Sure, maybe in old dwarven tales these tunnels were supposed to be awash with red-gold, welcoming light, but every kid in Hightown’s dwarven quarter knew the Deep Roads had been overrun centuries ago. There were still some intact corridors here and there where you could see the magma channels lighting the way as they’d been intended… but there were far more lonely and dangerous areas, where the magma had long ago been freed in cave-ins and cooled into just another kind of rock. Those corridors sat empty in the long-forgotten dark.

The thing was, though, it wasn’t pitch black, at least not where they’d set up camp for the night. They had the torches and the campfire made of magelight to thank for that. The orange-yellow of torchlight, the blue-white of mage-fire, they cast deep and disturbing shadows in the dark. It disquieted him. He almost wondered if it wouldn’t be better to let the lights go out, except that was complete crazy talk.

He hunkered down, trying to find a comfortable way to sit. He could sit on this broken lump of rock, but then there was no back support. Sit on the ground and that would take care of his back, but then his ass would start aching. He decided on the floor, groaning under his breath.

This lead of Bartrand’s better pan out , he thought sourly. He cast a glance over his shoulder, where Bartrand and his crew had taken over most of the lower level. Their torches lit the place up a little more, but the murmuring echoes of the mercs he’d hired were weird and distorted in the high open ceilings. He tried to ignore the sound and the way it made his spine tingle.

A rustle at his side. He nearly reached a hand toward Bianca, but this sound was familiar, somehow. Safe. He followed it to the source and saw the elder Hawke slipping out of her tent to tend to the fire, her hair mussed, her robes rumpled.

“Trouble sleeping?” Varric asked.

A startled look crossed her face, followed by a shrug once she realized it was only him. Shadows pooled along her cheekbones, dark semicircles cupping her keen eyes. “I could ask the same of you. Isn’t your bigshot brother paying for extra guards? No need to keep watch, I thought.”

Varric chuckled, letting discomfiting thoughts about the long tunneling dark fade away. This was a good distraction. “You really think Bartrand managed to convince quality muscle to come along with us? Oh, Hawke, he talks a big game, but I wouldn’t trust him farther than I can throw him.”

Her eyebrows leapt up somewhere in the vicinity of her hairline. “You do realize this doesn’t exactly inspire confidence in the expedition. Or in the Tethras name.”

Varric waved her protestation away. “Bartrand not having an ounce of charm in his body is his problem. I, fortunately, do not suffer from the same issue. Ergo, I was able to find some decent people for this thing. Such as yourself, partner.”

She let out one of those sharp-edged laughs he was beginning to know well. “You do have quite the silver tongue, dwarf, I’ll give you that.” She bent over the fire, concentrating. It flared up before her, dancing bright blue-white against the shadows.

“Thanks,” said Varric.

“I can’t stand it being so dark down here in the lower levels,” she said, leaning against a chunk of paving stone that had been torn from the main floor. “It’s unnatural.” Then she glanced at him. “Er, I mean, for humans,” she said clumsily.

Varric held up his hands. “Believe you me, Hawke, I’ll moan and complain about the Deep Roads as much as any human. Dwarves get some things right, sure -- they know what they’re doing when it comes to smithing and bullshitting -- but living underground forever, it’ll never play right for me.”

“You were born on the surface, then?” Hawke asked curiously.

“Born and raised,” said Varric. “Family had a nasty fall from grace in Orzammar when Bartrand was a little kid. They were forced to run from their fuckups down here up to the surface. My dad died not long after I was born, and my mother never recovered from the move. Not sure if Bartrand ever did, either.” He gazed into the fire. Silver-white sparks leapt from its flames.

“Oh,” said Hawke, first looking taken aback, then her face softening. “I’m sorry -- I didn’t realize.” She could be startlingly empathetic when she wanted to be, he’d noticed.

She sighed, shaking her head. “Family. Dreadfully inconvenient, aren’t they?” Then again, she was just as likely to laugh the big stuff away, just another joke. He liked that about her. Liked it in himself, too.

He chuckled. “You realize Carver is literally five feet away, right?”

She glanced over at her sleeping brother. He’d said he felt claustrophobic, setting up a tent in a closed tunnel, and had instead opted to sleep out in the open. She watched his chest rise and fall for a few beats.

“Carver’s different,” she said, “despite the way we fight. It’s our fighting, right? That’s the important bit.” She flashed Varric a too-tight grin.

Varric thought of Bartrand, all family name and getting ahead, all Brother, you have to take this seriously or they’ll eat you alive. He thought of just how often he’d been an absolute shit of a little brother, and how much Bartrand had really deserved it (completely, most of the time).

“There’s something to that, I suppose,” he said cautiously. “But Bartrand really is an ass.”

“So’s Carver,” Hawke laughed in that bright, airy way of hers. For a moment, though, her face slipped into genuine fondness. “That’s part of his charm.”

Varric snorted. “That’s one word for it.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” said Hawke in mock-offended tones. “As the eldest sibling, I’m the only one permitted to say such dreadful things about my own brother. Which I have before, and which I’ll do again, thank you very much.”

Varric shifted positions, sitting up on top of his chunk of rock, seeing if that would help his aching back. Eh. Not much difference.

A thought struck him, one he knew he shouldn’t say. You never talk about the other twin that way. But that was something private, wasn’t it, something he’d only gleaned from weeks of dropped references in casual conversation with the Hawke siblings. At first he’d wondered if Bethany was a cousin back in Fereldan; a distant relative long-forgotten. It’d taken an overheard conversation between Hawke and her mother for Varric to figure it out, and an aside with Aveline, plied with more than a little ale, to confirm it..

He stuffed the information back down, watching the firelight flicker in her eyes. If she wanted to tell him about Bethany, she’d do it, and it didn’t gain him any advantage anyway, knowing the blow she and Carver had suffered. He held his tongue.

“You’ve gone quiet,” she observed. “You never did say what you were doing out here. Something nefarious, I’m certain.”

“Oh, you know me,” said Varric loftily. “I’m just here for the scenery.”

Hawke giggled, loudly enough that Carter grumbled and rolled over before lapsing into a loud snore. She stifled her laugh, just barely.

“Ah, yes. Creepy empty caverns, moldering ruins, the endless dark. You really know how to show a girl a good time,” she teased.

He shivered. Or was he blushing? He wasn’t sure. Something squirmed in the pit of his stomach.

“Where better than the ass end of Thedas for a little romance?” he asked, in a voice that felt a good deal less smooth than he’d meant it.

Hawke wiped a tear away. “This is why I like traveling with you. You’re right. If Bartrand had been doing the talking, Carver and I would never have thrown in our lot with you.” She let out a long breath. “Ah, thanks for that. I’ve been feeling rather uneasy down here, to be honest. A good laugh’s a bit of a relief.”

“Varric Tethras, at your service,” he said cheerfully. Funny, though, that little bit of disappointment threading through his words. Why was he thinking of Bianca now? He shook his head. “Well, Hawke, you’re not the only one with the creeps down here. I thought maybe keeping an eye on camp would make things feel more normal, but turns out the place is damn spooky no matter where you sit.”

She nodded. “I could see my fire fading through the gap in the front of my tent. Didn’t feel right to let it go out. So I’m keeping an eye on it, for now at least.”

“Seems like you’re getting better at them to me,” said Varric. He didn’t know much about magic, but he’d long noticed that Anders was the one running around throwing fireballs while Hawke was much more likely to somehow conjure up a miniature earthquake.

“That’s sweet of you to say,” said Hawke. “Anders is much better at elemental magic than I am, but since he’s still up surface-side, I figured now was a good time to practice. It wasn’t my father’s strength, either, as far as I know. Or maybe he thought it’d be harder to hide fireball lessons out back of our farm.” She shrugged. “But I’m learning things, much as I can with the Chantry breathing down my neck.”

“Maybe it’s for the best Anders isn’t here. I gather he’s spent way more time in the Deep Roads than any sane person would ever want to,” said Varric. He could just hear Blondie’s complaints starting up in the back of his mind.

“It’s one reason why I didn’t ask him to come with us,” said Hawke cheerily. “Felt sorry for the poor fellow. I’m sure he’s enjoying the sunshine from Darktown. ...come to think of it, it’s not that far off from being down here, is it?”

Varric laughed. “Good point. Though sometimes I swear you can see the sun through holes in the walls there… and it smells better here.”

“Do you miss it? Not Darktown, obviously. Kirkwall,” said Hawke. “It’s been… what, a good three weeks now? It’s the longest I’ve seen you away from the city.”

Varric considered. He’d gone on long journeys before, been away from Kirkwall for weeks, even occasionally, months at a time on Guild business, especially after their mother died. Bianca flitted through his thoughts again, Bianca and intrigue and furtive meetings in shitty towns. But none of that felt right to bring up here, not to Hawke with the fire’s reflection in her darkened eyes.

“I miss the Hanged Man,” he said honestly. “Every time I try to lay down for bed here, I just think back to my bed back in the inn, and think ‘Tethras! You’ve gone insane.’”

“Ugh, you and me both,” said Hawke. “I think I’ve got bruises on bruises from all these rocks. Hopefully we’re not down here too much longer.”

“We can always dream,” said Varric, but the words felt hollow in the dark, and he drew his coat closer around himself.

Hawke nodded, but she seemed pensive. “I suppose,” she said. She shifted, sinking deeper into her robes. “Hmph. Well, as long as we aren’t sleeping, care to join me in a snack?”

“Depends,” he said cautiously. He’d had her cooking before. Carver’s was far and away the better meal.

“I’ve been saving these. For a special occasion, as it were.” She rummaged in the pack beside her. “I figured the special occasion would be for when I absolutely couldn’t tolerate another bite of Lowtown hardtack, but what d’you know, sharing it with a friend sounds all right, too.”

“You actually have something good in there?” Varric asked in surprise. The perishable stuff had all gone a few days ago, and he’d started his grumbling about the salted pork that morning, right on cue.

Hawke pulled free a waxed paper bundle, tightly wrapped. “I may have tried a spell of stasis on these,” she said. “I’m still working on the technique, but I think I’ve got it down for little things like this.” She unwrapped the bundle and a tiny flash of light dissipated from the contents, the spell breaking at its maker’s touch.

“Chocolate almond biscuits, from Camille’s in Hightown,” she whispered, looking downright conspiratorial. “It was the end of the night, that last night in Kirkwall. The bakery was just about to close, but I saw them packing these up off the cart outside. The baker’s girl told me they were getting a bit stale, but did I want to buy them anyway, half price? Carver ate his straight away -- didn’t see the point in them getting staler -- but I wanted to save them. Don’t know why.”

Two biscuits sat in their waxed wrapping, delicate golden squares worked with scrolled lustrous chocolate, stamped with the Kirkwall crest. He’d passed them up a hundred times, sweet sugary nonsense meant for nobles with more money than sense. Bartrand would have scoffed. But they smelled amazing.

“Aw, come on, Hawke,” tried Varric. “They’re yours. You should have them.”

“A good biscuit’s better shared, or at least it’s what my father used to say. Probably so as to keep his children from fighting amongst themselves for the last one, but it’s a nice sentiment regardless,” said Hawke. She shoved the biscuits at him. “Go on, then.”

“All right, all right. If you insist. Only because you’re a powerful mage and I don’t want to get on your bad side.” He reached out and took the top biscuit. It was a solid thing, sturdy in the hand. The chocolate beneath his thumb tip began to melt, soft and silky against his skin.

“Cheers, Varric.” Hawke took up the other biscuit and nudged it against his, then took a bite. “Mmm,” she hummed, closing her eyes. “Just as I’d hoped it would be.”

Varric bit into his biscuit. It snapped satisfyingly against his teeth. He tasted buttery almonds first, then a deep, complex sweetness tempered by smooth bitter chocolate. He paused, savoring it. “Damn. No wonder they charge an arm and a leg for these.”

“Worth every copper,” Hawke agreed, a silly grin spreading over her face as she finished her biscuit. Varric finished his a moment later, regretfully licking the last of the chocolate from his fingertips.

“Thanks, Hawke. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Oh, I know,” she said, her eyes twinkling.

The fire rolled and flared, almost a living thing, fighting against the shadows. He half thought he could see a pattern to it, a heartbeat, a touch of Hawke herself within the flames.

Silence grew between them, a comfortable, familiar thing like the weight of a good blanket. Or the taste of secret chocolate in the dark. It felt good, until it was broken by a yawn Hawke tried to hide.

“You should get some rest,” Varric said softly. “The fire’s a good one, Hawke. You don’t need to worry.”

“Hmm, but I worry all the time,” she chuckled, yawning again. “But don’t tell anyone. It’s a secret.”

He felt a pang, though he wasn’t sure why. “Dwarf’s honor,” said Varric. “Assuming you put stock in such things.”

“In yours? Of course I do,” she said. She gave him a tired smile. “All right, then. I’ll get some sleep if you promise to do the same. It wouldn’t do for us to be too tired to carry back our fabulous treasure.”

“Imagine if we’d have to leave it behind due to exhaustion. It’d be a crying shame. We’d never live it down,” said Varric. “All right, you’ve convinced me.”

He got to his feet, his back and ass aching as predicted. He reached out a hand to Hawke and she gripped it, hard, her calloused hand small but steely against his own as he helped her up. “Thanks, Varric.”

“No problem. See you in the morning, Hawke,” he said.

“If you can call it that,” she said. “But I’ll see you then.” She slipped back into her tent, and Varric returned to his.

He stretched out on his bedroll, staring up at the ceiling. The blue magelight -- Hawke’s light -- seeped in through the cracks of his tent flaps. He watched its delicate choreography through drowsy eyes.

They had this. He knew it now in his bones. Bartrand had his team and his map, and that was all well and good, but Varric had Hawke and her people, and he’d put the money on them every time. No matter what they found on this crazy expedition, they’d be ready.

He smiled tiredly. Yeah. He had Hawke.

The tent was still and quiet. His eyes fell shut; his breathing slowed. He drifted off to sleep in the long night of the Deep Roads, still tasting chocolate.

#hawke x varric #hightown funk 2020 #hightown funk #varric x hawke #dragon age 2 #varric tethras

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echoes-of-the-clockwork · 4 years ago

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Book One: Gold (Prompto x Reader) Chapter XXXIV

Noctis pushes open the doors to the throne room, flanked by Gladio, Prompto, (Y/n), and Ignis. Looking up, he gritted his teeth as he sees corpses hanging from the ceiling.

Prompto gasped in horror at the gruesome sight. "What is that?"

Ardyn sits above, on the throne of Lucis, with Callyx by his side. Facsimiles of the corpses of the emperor, Regis, Lunafreya, and Nyx Ulric hang from chains before the throne. Ardyn smirks as the group walks to the center of the room to stare him down. "I'm afraid you're out of luck. The throne brings you here? It seats only one."

Noctis glared at the man. "Off my chair, jester. The king sits there."

Ardyn stands and places one foot on the throne before scowling down at the king. "Oh, Noct... How I have waited for this. Longer than you could ever know." He slowly raises his hand into a fist. "Tonight, the dreams of the blood royal...come to an end."

"Spite's all that's kept him going," Gladio grumbled, eyes narrowed as they focused on Ardyn.

"Talk about a grudge," Prompto muttered.

Ignis lowered his head, his tone of voice dropping. "Ardyn sits the throne?"

"Not for long," Noctis scoffed. "This is my ascension."

Suddenly, Callyx summoned his sword as his eyes focused on Noctis. With a running start, he leapt into the air and targeted the king. Before any of the men could move, (Y/n) had already summoned the Creator's Blade and stood in front of Noctis. She blocked the spirit's sword and pushed him back. He glared at her, lowering his blade. "I've been waiting for this for ten years."

"I can tell. You've aged horribly," she sneered. She smirked in amusement when seeing her insult irked him. "How about we take this outside where we can unleash our true powers?"

Callyx bursted out with laughter. "You'll regret that decision."

"We'll see about that," she spat. Without hesitating, both spirits vanished. They reappeared in the streets of the city, not too far from the Citadel. Facing off against each other, they readied their blades. (Y/n) twirled her sword around with a grin. "To think you hit on me when we first met... Makes my stomach churn."

"If you honestly believe I was interested, you're wrong," Callyx snarled. "I was only hoping to lower your guard and stab you where you stood, but that damned human kept getting in the way. What's sickening is spirits like you who fall in love with humans. They're weak and gullible."

(Y/n) rolled her eyes. "You're such a hypocrite, you know that?"

"Oh, really? And how's that?"

She raised her blade and pointed it at him. "I know who you really are, Callyx."

His eyes narrowed. "Like hell you do." He lifted his sword, infusing it with lightning. "Enough of this chatting. Let's get this over with."

"Took the words right out of my mouth."

Callyx was the first to attack. He charged towards (Y/n) and slashed at her numerous of times. Their blades clashed over and over again, sparks flying around them. When their sword clashed for what felt like the hundredth time, they tried to push each other back. The girl took advantage of their situation and kicked him in the chest, causing him to stumble back. She raised her hand and sent a fireball at him, but he sliced it in half. Lifting his sword, he manipulated the spell he casted on it and sent the lightning towards her. She sidestepped just in time to avoid being electrified. With the others gone, she would have to be extra careful because she didn't carry around any curatives.

The emerald-eyed guardian released a war cry when he enhanced his body. Two wings grew from his back and green stripes covered his face and exposed areas of his arms. Using one wing, he swatted at her and sent her sailing through the air. Her body slammed against one of the crumbling buildings with a grunt of pain. Pushing herself free from the indentation in the bricks, she landed on her feet. Her legs shook slightly from the pain. Pushing through it, she performed another sidestep just as Callyx appeared and tried to stab her. She kicked him in the back and caused his own body to collide with the building. A few bricks from where she made impact rained down on him, hitting him but causing no real injuries.

Putting some distance between her and Callyx, (Y/n) ran down the street. She turned around at the sound of maniacal laughter. The male spirit was sauntering towards her and clearly wasn't in any hurry. Two black horns sprouted from his forehead, eyes glowing brightly. The moment she blinked, he suddenly appeared in front of her. A soundless gasp fell from her lips as he grabbed her throat and lifted her body up effortlessly. She gasped for air as her throat was crushed in his hand. She weakly glared at him as she latched onto his arm with both her hands. In his eyes, she could see the psychotic glint in them.

Having no other choice, (Y/n) enhanced her own body. Tails grew from near her tailbone and her nails turned into sharp claws. She plunged them into Callyx's arm, which forced him to drop her. She coughed, trying to regain her breath. She manifested a single throwing knife and threw it at her fellow spirit. It pierced the man in the shoulder. Then, she formed a fiery vortex around him and casted her own lightning spell, weaving it around the flames.

Callyx chortled in amusement. "Look at you. Now you know how to wield lightning. Never took you for a spirit to learn another element."

"Yeah, and I didn't take you for a spirit who would betray his own master," she snarled.

"Ardyn is my master," he spat.

"No, he's not." She jammed her blade into the ground. "Your true master is-"

Callyx's eyes widen when he heard the one name he hadn't heard in centuries. "No..." He dropped his sword and grabbed his spiky hair with both hands, yanking on the sable locks. "Don't you dare say his name again, you bitch!"

"Touchy subject?" She asked.

"Damn you!"

The male guardian released another battle cry. He morphed into his spiritual form and roared as loud as he could. It echoed through the empty streets of the city. He emerged from the vortex, breaking through the flames and the lightning. It caused him pain, but nothing too severe.

(Y/n) took a few steps back before also transforming. She screeched threateningly at the winged tiger. Forming a ring of fireballs, they spun around her. She ran around the street, hurtling the fireballs one by one. Callyx dodged most of them expect for one. It nicked him in the side and wound up resulting in him to lose his balance slightly. Some of his fur was singed and his skin was burnt. Fueled by anger, he flapped his wings and took to the sky. He flew overhead and created a large storm. Lightning struck near the fox and forced her on defense. She leapt around, trying to predict where the bolts would strike. However, she was nailed in the back by a single one. She shrieked and searched for a way out of the storm.

(Y/n) escaped the vicinity of Callyx's spell and hopped on the roof of some of the buildings to get a higher vantage point. She leapt from rooftop to rooftop across Insomnia, hearing the tiger flapping his wings as fast as he could. He may be able to fly, but her agility made it difficult to keep up. Reaching a tall enough building, she immediately spun around and pounced on the flying tiger. She sunk her teeth into his neck as her weight dragged him and her down. Blood spurted from his neck as he wriggled around in mid-air to try and escape.

Eventually, the guardians' bodies crashed through the roof of one of the buildings. They pummeled through floor after floor until reaching the bottom level. The building came crumbling down around them. (Y/n) unlatched her jaw from Callyx's neck and jumped to safety. He, on the other hand, wasn't so lucky.

With a thunderous roar, half of his body was buried underneath a pile of debris. He felt shards from the metal support frame of the building pierce his body, pinning him to the ground. When he tried to move, a fierce amount of pain ripples across his entire body. Forced to revert back to his human form, he coughed up a large amount of blood. The crimson liquid trickled from the corners of his mouth as he weakly glared up at his opponent with his one good eye. "D-Dammit... After ten years, and I...fail..."

(Y/n) changed forms and kneeled in front of him. She wasn't happy about her win, especially after learning from Brahma who Callyx truly was. "You fought well, Callyx. I'm sorry it had to end like this. If only you were on our side..."

"Don't pity me," he spat. "Dying like this is the least I deserve after all the shit I've done. Are you happy to see me go?"

"Of course not," she sighed. "Not after learning the truth."

"Who told you...?"

"Brahma. Those ten years I was asleep, he spoke to me." She stared intently into his good eye. "You are Callyx Vespertine, the guardian of the Founder King, Somnus Lucis Caelum. After Ardyn was branded a monster by his own brother, you wanted to help him because you didn't agree with Somnus' methods. You tried desperately to save him before he was consumed by the scourge, but it was too late. When Aera died at the hand of Somnus, the rage over her death caused Ardyn's infection to fully manifest. At the time, you didn't know he had infected you with the Starscourge which bound you to his soul. You were no longer Somnus' guardian but Ardyn's."

Callyx chuckled weakly. "I was a damned fool... I chose my master's brother over him..."

"Do you wish to make up for what you've done?" She questioned.

"It's too late for that..."

"No, it's not. Are you willing to hand your own soul over to the Astrals to undo the wrong you've done?"

"Yes..."

(Y/n) summoned the Creator's Blade and jammed it into the ground in front of Callyx. "If you're truly ready to pay for your sins, touch this blade and Brahma shall see to your soul himself."

The emerald-eyed guardian thought back to his life with Ardyn and Somnus as he gazed melancholically at the sword. A single tear trailed down his cheek as he reached out to touch the weapon. The moment his hand grazed it, he could feel his soul leaving his body. "Thank you, (Y/n)..." He whispered with his dying breath.

She watched in silence as his soul left his body. His body, now lifeless, gradually began to vanish. She watched sorrowfully until there was nothing left of Callyx. "Farewell, Callyx..." she whispered. Grabbing Brahma's sword, she headed back to the Citadel. Stopping for a brief second, she looked up at the sky as it began raining. She heard the creator address her.

The price has been paid, Child of Pneuma.

"Thank you for granting such a selfish wish, Brahma," she smiled before continuing forward.

Back in the courtyard at the Citadel, (Y/n) saw the men standing by the stairwell. They had yet to notice her presence as she strolled up and listened to their final goodbyes.

"So this is farewell," Ignis spoke up.

"Yeah. Here we are," Noctis muttered sorrowfully.

"It's all you," Gladio said.

Noctis nods, turns, and begins ascending the steps just as Prompto melancholically mumbled, "No turning back now."

However, Noctis does indeed stop and turn around. He addresses each of his friends in turn. "Prompto. Gladio. Ignis." He then spotter the girl standing a few feet behind them. "(Y/n). I leave it to you. Walk tall...my friends."

All are silent for a moment. Ignis was the first to shatter the silence. "Godspeed...and take care." He, Gladio, and Prompto all put their hand over their chest and bow. "Majesty."

Behind them, two iron giants begin manifesting up out of the ground. Noctis puts his own hand over his chest. "The time has come." He turns and continues ascending the steps.

Prompto, Ignis, Gladio, and (Y/n) turn to face the approaching daemons as more iron giants begin manifesting. The men raised their weapons and were ready to attack, but were stopped as the guardian strolled past them with her sword resting by her side. She could hear Brahma's voice as he spoke to her.

Our bodies shall become as one. Our fused powers shall smite all those that dwell in the dark.

Coming to a stop, (Y/n) eyed the approaching daemons. She then jammed the Creator's Blade into the ground. The cosmic glyph appeared underneath her as she was enveloped in a column of light. From the light emerged a large fox that towered over the daemons. Its body was composed of the reflection of the galaxy, its eyes glowing a pure white. A golden halo floated around its neck and many more were hovering around the tip of each tail.

The fox lowered its head as the cosmic glyph from earlier manifested underneath it. Hues of purple, white, green, and blue shone from the glyph as a large cosmic rift appeared in the sky. A powerful gust of wind began pulling on the daemons. Their bodies were lifted into the air and were swallowed up by the rift. The daemons that were fortunate to escape the rift were sliced in half when a large ring of light pulsated from the fox's body. Their corpses slowly decayed, leaving nothing behind.

The streets of Insomnia were purged of daemons. The cosmic fox's body discorporated, the glyph fading with a blinding light. As the brightness subsided, (Y/n) stood where the beast once did. In front of her loomed Brahma. The god kneeled down as he addressed her.

You have served me well, Child of Pneuma. Not only I, but the True King himself as well. I unbind our souls. You are free.

She smiled up at the Astral. "Thank you, Brahma. What will you do now?"

Return to the stars from whence I came. This world no longer needs me.

Her smile fell. "So you still wish to remain the forgotten one..."

You seem sad, Child. Why is that?

"You've been a part of me for so long. It feels like I'm losing a piece of myself," she said.

Look to the stars for I shall be there. Farewell, Child of Pneuma. I shall be watching over you and this star for all eternity.

Brahma stood up, his body slowly fading from existence. (Y/n) watched the god vanish before looking towards the Celestial Crescent. Her smile returned seeing just how brilliantly the stars radiated. Turning around, she saw Prompto, Ignis, and Gladio stand there. Before any of them could say anything, the rays of the rising sun caught their attention. The darkness was vanquished as the rays of the sun casted across all of Eos for the first time in ten years.

Although happy to see the sun, the men were saddened by the loss of their king. (Y/n), on the other hand, had a stoic expression. Her mouth opened slightly to say something, but her eyes darted over to the entrance of the Citadel when the doors opened.

The three men turn around, eyes widening when they saw Noctis walking down the steps to join them. The king smiled at his friends, amused at their expressions. "Sorry I'm late. I thought it would be better to watch the sunrise with you all."

Prompto's legs shook slightly as if he was learning to walk for the first time. He took a couple steps towards his best friend, eyes wide as saucers. "H-How...?"

"This isn't some crazy dream, right?" Gladio asked, his expression matching the marksman's.

"How is this possible?" Ignis gaped.

"Someone already paid the price." Noctis looked over at the only girl in their merry band. "It was you, wasn't it, (Y/n)?"

All eyes fell on the guardian. She clasped her hands together behind her back. "I may have asked Brahma to pull a few strings..."

"The Astrals do not simply change the course of destiny by listening. What did you offer in exchange?" Ignis inquired, curious as to how she was able to keep Noctis from perishing.

(Y/n) met Noctis' gaze. "A soul of the same bloodline. Let's just say I found a small fragment of one of your ancestors and offered it to the Astrals in exchange for your life."

Prompto was the first to react. He grabbed and pulled her into his arms, embracing her tightly. He felt tears of joy cascading down his cheeks. "Thank you for saving him, (Y/n)."

She soon found herself in the center of a group hug. A gentle smile tugged at her lips, enjoying the joyous moment. Her golden eyes trailed up to the sky, her smile widening. "It truly is a happy ending."

••••••••••• A/n: I originally had planned for Noctis to die as like on the game, but I'm a baby and still can't accept that ending. The next chapter will be the last one and it'll just be pure fluff. Love you all!!!

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#final fantasy xv #final fantasy xv x reader #ffxv #ffxv x reader #prompto argentum #prompto x reader #prompto argentum x reader

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ask-vaal-hazak · 5 years ago

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I just left a homebrew dnd campaign I've a message for new DM's

If your running a campaign for 2 ppl and there level 3 do not throw cr 6 and 9 monsters at them. For the love of the divine do not.

Extremely fustrating and deadly. And dont use the monsters from a homebrew forum bc it just sounds cool. Bc that "cool" cr 6 hag going against a lv3 party with multiple attack. Multiple spell cast and spell immunity and able to polymorph into any creature it wants at will is devastating.

Just to rant here. I lost 3 characters in 1 hour. My lv 3 barbarian (minotaur zelot). My battlemaster (centaur) and my wizard (yuan ti)

To be a dm ya have to balance and make sure every fight isnt designs to just upright kill ppl at the start bc. 5d12 worth of dmg with multiple attack on a hag or any creature. Is friggin broken.

There no way in hell a monster for a party of 2, level 3 adventures should hit for 5d12 (3 times) and be able to cast 2 spells (at will without using a spell slot) EVERY ROUND. And on top of that have a movement speed of 90 and an ac of 23. (I asked the dm to let me see what he was using and thers more. Swim of 30, fly of 300 ect this is pretty much a god with its stats but the cr says 6. It dosent even feel like a 6. More like a lv 20 broken sack of crap)

This is the reason there are tutorial guides in the book(s) and youtube to show you why you should look at cr then your players levels b4 u design an encounter.

I cant describe how fustrating it was to see my barbarian. Who I spent 5hours making just get tapped lightly and die. Bc 48 hp at lv 3 and taking well over 10 pts of dmg bc apparently she crit me on all attacks and only did like 1 attack to our female player (for 2 dmg with a level 6 scorching ray [its bs] ) was "Fair bc your a barbarian and should be able to tank this EASILY" (quote the dm.)

If there is a way to piss off players it's this and having a game were you get railroaded so hard it's a traveling trip with skill checks with a minimum of 18-20 to notice something like a bear on the road when the weather is CLEAR and everyone is PAYING THE HELL ATTENTION ON A BANDIT HIGHWAY. Not to mention the SCREAMS OF A CYCLOPS AS IT LITERALLY SMASHES INTO THE CARAVAN ACROSS A PLANE WITH A FEW TREES ON THE SIDE OF THE ROAD.

Oh and let me not forget the NPCS WHO WANT TO SLEEP WITH EVERYONE BC THEY THINK THERE HOT AND DESERVE A NICE HOT MEAT ROD FOR THEIR SERVICES OF INTRODUCING THEMSELVES.

*Facepalm* my god....oh and if your thinking

"GEE-WILLY Mr. Person surely it couldnt be that bad?" This guys campaign was pretty much parappa the rapper, jojo bizarre adventures, bloodborne, Resident evil and memes.

I had a character who came in and apparently they caused the world to have wormholes? (Somehow) and referenced it everytime we played even when that character died. In session one. Bc apparently a company named (I kid you not) Shoe Rack was the equivalent of resident evil's umbrella cooperation. Complete with a drow leader and a litch bookkeeper who turned everyone into zombies to work for free while they apparently made diamonds to sell for millions of gold and keep the workers working g for 1 copper every month. Only giving gold to ppl that would sleep with them.

Not to mention apparently everyone in this world had magic resist or spell immunity to everyone except to females. And when I made a female char apparently that rule became I valid and it was just a straightforward

Me: does a 17 hit?

Dm: well it would but .... *they grin*

Me: but?

Dm: they use a special ring to catch the spell and cast meteor swarm on you point blank.

Me: well they get hit too I just stabbed them with a dagger.

Dm: no you see it's a SMALL METEOR THAT ONLY HITS THE PERSON THAT HIT THEM

Me: so they and my teammate. Who has literally been stabbing them are fine?"

Dm: yes

Me (takes like 589 pts of dmg and is ded)

Dm: the litch turns to you and asks if you want a cup of coffee.

Female player: umm sure?

Dm: whoo-yeah. Combat over you get 500 go and a date with the litch.

Me: I'm sorry what?

Female player: umm...ok. awsome.

Me: ......ok cool so I'll just bring in-

Dm: no that's cool the litch revives yorubas a female zombie slave.

Me: why?

Dm: and you need to have sex to keep yourself alive.

Me: yeah no. I'll just bring in my centaur battle master

1 hour later

Dm: you take umm..let's see *rolls dice.*

Me: (waiting)

Dm: *rolls a shit ton more dice*

Me: (waiting)

Dm: oh oh no *grins*

Me: (takes 40 dmg) I'm still up

Dm: how?

Me: I have 48 hp....I'm still up

Dm: ok it's your attack I guess.

Me: rolls a nat 1 "ok I guess I have disadvantage on my next att-"

Dm: rolls a d100 and a d10 (the percentile)

Me: what are you doing?

Dm: rolling for severity of your fail. Btw how much dmg does your lance do?

Me: it does 1d12 dmg and why are you using severity. That's not in 5e and you said we-

Dm: as you fail you accidentally stab yourself in the throat as your spear hits a rock and you take *rolls dice* 35 pts of dmg

Me: ok I'm out that's bs. Number one and two I have a lance and thers no way I can do 35 dmg. I get about 24 dmg on a crit and 28 if I use my racial feature to kick a person at max with a crit.

Dm: oh your just being salty, you dont play fair!

Me: excuse me?

Dm: ALL YOU DO IS PLAY SPELL CASTWRS AND THATS CHEATING!

Me: bc everyone has spell immunity for some reason or only takes 1/4 the dmg. I'm pretty much useless and am being fored to play melee unlike our LOREMASTER BARD who got an item to DOUBLE HER DMG AND SPELL SLOTS AND CRIT ON A 15 PERMANENTLY (this is the female btw)

Dm: well maybe you should have slept with the litch

Me: she literally found that item in a store for like 3 silver and when I looked (with a 17 arcana check) I found a rusty dagger and a flask of poisoned potion.

Dm: well maybe roll higher?

Female player: umm I rolled like a 10 and found this that's kind of cool but I dont think it's fair. But o wanna keep my items

Dm: ugh fine. You keep yours. Ummm (to me) I guess you get a potion of greater healing for....umm 500 go.

Me:.......nah I'm good, FUCK IT. I'll just make another spell caster Oops. Cant do that. How about a nope. Cant make a barbar I'm going to make a artificer

Dm: cant do that

Me: why?

Dm: they're broken its not good.

Me: *with the book* not broken..ulyou know what why dont you make me a character and I'll use that.

Dm: hands me a sheet

Me: reads "Zonia the sexy zombie elf sex slave that gets stronger every time she has sex?" *Looks at everyone* ok I'm out enjoy the campaign.

Dm: we cant have a dnd adventure with only 1 person.

Me: yes you can you've been doing it since session 1. I'm out goodbye. I'm still running my campaign on sunday. I wont hole anything against you. But I will not sit here and be shit on bc I refuse to kiss yur ass and make a slut of a character. Pull your head from your ass. I'm taking my stuff and I'm out.

Dm: but I need the dm screen and the mat and the markers.

Me: then buy your own or use theater of mind. I'm out.

Like how bad is it to want to be a dm to shit on ppl. THIS, THIS IS NOT OK. and no one wants a zombie sex slave that can only have sex and has a str of 0 a con of 30 a dex of 1 a cha of 40 and so on. Its friggin stupid!

Anyway that's my rant. Im....I think I'm just done with dms and crap I just want to play a dnd game I can be happy with. And not always be the Forever dm. Who has players challenge everything. Like why as a monk they cant use sleight of hand to CATCH A FRIGGIN FIREBALL AND/OR AN ARROW AIMED AT ANOTHER PERSON.

Anyway leave a comment or add on I'm just burnt out and glad I could get this rant off my chest

#dnd #bad players #bad dm #horror story #ugh

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akaluan · 5 years ago

Text

Erich/Kisuke/Alexis: Soulmate AU + Character in Peril Part 2

Erich wakes to a hand in his hair and ripples of warmth coursing through his body. He wakes to lethargy and contentment and safety, to the urge to close his eyes and rest, to trust, and it’s all he can do to fight past the unnatural desire and lift a hand to grab—

A hand lifts from his shoulders. Catches his own. Tangles their fingers together and squeezes reassurance-care-loyalty—

The warmth fades.

He’s cold. He’s cold and he aches and a whine crawls from his throat before he can swallow it back and—

“Shh, shh, I’m here. I’m here.”

Their tangled hands settle on his stomach. Power sinks deep into his body, it’s warm it’s warm it’s warm and—

“Ah. Let’s fix that, hm?”

He falls asleep with a hand in his hair and loyalty settling deep into his bones.

(He sleeps better than he deserves.)

***

He sits up with a groan the next morning, burying his face in his hands and listening to the bone-deep thrum of reassurance-trust-loyalty that he can’t push aside. His stomach doesn’t hurt for the first time in years and the whole thing is just a step away from absurd—

“Another visit last night, sir?”

“Soulmates are a hassle,” he declares before he can censor himself, and is rewarded with the sound of Degurechaff choking as she tries to bite back her laughter. He straightens with a sigh and gestures towards his bag, murmuring his thanks as she passes it over and then turns away to give him the illusion of privacy.

Erich shrugs his jacket off and tugs his undershirt over his head, rolling it up as he turns his attention to his right arm. Bark covers his entire lower arm and much of his upper arm, the tree tall and strong and bold despite being nothing but a tiny bracelet of leaves a few days before. Already its branches are reaching across his chest, growing closer to Alexis’ proud oak that dominates his left side.

He… still doesn’t know what tree it is, he realizes as he traces a branch and smooths his thumb across the leaves.

(He doesn’t know what mark the stranger has left across his body and it…)

(It leaves him floundering and uneasy.)

Degurechaff moves, her clothes rustling as she takes slow, careful steps towards him; they’re walking a fine line between impropriety and friendship, blurred by the situation they’re in and the trouble that Erich’s unknown soulmate has brought them, but… he can’t find it in himself to shoo her away the way he should.

(She’s the only ranking officer besides himself left.)

(She’s the only one who knows his mark grew so suddenly…)

Slender, calloused fingers touch his shoulder-blade and trace a shape across his skin. The unexpected touch makes him twitch, shoulder curling in, and she snatches her hand away like she’s been burned.

“Sorry, sir,” she says as she edges back, putting a bit more space between them. “Forgot myself for a moment.” She hums, the noise soft and thoughtful, and says, “I think, sir, that we can expect much more of this to come.”

“What leads you to believe that?”

“Because your soulmate’s mark is a plum tree, sir, and it’s starting to bloom.”

He stills at her words, then twists around in an attempt to see his back. It doesn’t work, of course, but she politely doesn’t laugh at him, just takes his hand and guides his fingers to rest on the same spot she touched before. The skin feels no different — it never feels different, he knows this — but… he trusts her.

He trusts her word and he trusts her judgment and that means he has a blooming plum tree across his skin.

(Oh, this is going to be trouble…)

***

He forces himself to go about his day, to lead his men and do his best without hesitation or second guessing.

He leads them through the forest and marks their next target and ignores the steady thrum of loyalty in his bones.

(It’s so deep he can barely sense it, so deep that it colors everything he says-thinks-does—)

(Who can feel such deep, abiding loyalty to a man he’s never met?!)

***

It’s late in the evening when Degurechaff appears at his side, her lips pinched into a thin line and her eyes sharp with concern. She says nothing but it’s clear she wants to speak with him in private.

He excuses himself from the last minute planning and follows her to the edge of camp and then beyond, into the too-quiet forest towards the enemy camp.

(If he didn’t trust her with his life…)

She beckons him up a slope and they climb in silence until they reach the top and the lookout’s post that’s been created.

“It’s still happening,” Serebryakov whispers as they crawl up to her side, passing a pair of binoculars over to Degurechaff.

Degurechaff grunts and peers down at the camp below them for a moment, then grimaces and passes Erich the binoculars. “Take a look, sir.”

He accepts the binoculars with a quiet feeling of despair and brings them up, adjusting the focus until—

There’s a man stalking the camp, dressed in something that looks like a simple black overcoat with white diamonds along the hem, and with… a dressing robe underneath?

Erich frowns and zooms in further, mentally cursing the darkness and the distance and everything about this mess. It’s probable that he’s staring at his unknown soulmate and for the life of him he can’t get a clear impression of who the man is.

A blade flashes in the torchlight. Slides clean through an enemy soldier’s chest.

The man shoves the soldier from his blade. Tilts his head and meets Erich’s gaze and holds it for

one

infinite

moment—

“General Rerugen, sir?” Degurechaff whispers, nudging him with her shoulder. “Can you see what’s killing the enemy?”

Erich swallows as the man turns away, distinctive sword held easily at his side, and slowly lowers the binoculars from his eyes. Degurechaff’s words are like a leaden weight in his stomach, proof of the worst case scenario he’s ever dreamed of.

He’s soulmates with a Reaper.

“I’m not sure,” he prevaricates, unable to explain their inability to see the spirit currently murdering living soldiers without sounding like he’s taken leave of his senses.

The look Degurechaff sends him tells him she’s not buying it, and she deliberately taps her right hand against the ground where he can see. She grimaces when he reluctantly nods, heaving a sigh through her nose.

“Nothing for it, I suppose,” she says with reluctance, taking the binoculars back from Erich and passing them to Serebryakov. “Keep watch and let me know if something changes,” she orders as she starts wriggling backwards, leaving her adjutant to her watch.

Erich casts one final look at the dead men on the ground and follows her down the hill.

***

“Invisibility, sir?” Degurechaff asks with pointed idleness as they meander back to camp, both knowing a conversation needs to happen.

He hesitates then inclines his head, lips twisting into a wry smile. “Something of the sort,” he agrees.

“Never heard of a mage able to shield themselves from everyone but their own soulmate.” Never heard of a mage able to shield themselves from me, she leaves unstated.

“I suppose the Akitsushima Dominion has their own ways of doing things.”

Her gaze burns hot-sharp-thoughtful as they walk, but she says nothing more.

(He’s not so certain that’s a good thing…)

***

He wakes to a hand in his hair and a second on his chest, to power-comfort-sleep-sleep-sleep and—

He wrenches himself from his bedroll. Slams into the man’s chest. Sends them both tumbling to the ground and grips the man’s wrists. Pins the unknown to the ground—

“My, you’re certainly as feisty as I suspected,” the man says with a bright smile, letting whatever he was doing to Erich fade now that he’s been caught.

Erich swallows, throat suddenly dry as his senses roar back into focus.

The man is physical, his body lean and strong beneath Erich’s own. His breath is warm and his heartbeat steady and Erich—

Erich can’t unknow the truth.

He’s straddling a Reaper, no matter how physical the man may seem. He can sense the barest edge of spiritual powers, sense the distinctive twist of Reaper about the man and—

He’s being allowed to sense it.

“Hey now, hey, shh, it’s alright, it’s alright, you’re safe—”

He jerks away from the man — his soulmate! — and scrambles back, hand reaching for his pistol and—

“Leave,” a cold voice orders, even as a tiny fireball slams into the ground inches from the Reaper’s knees. “Next one’s setting that bleached blond head of yours alight, soulmate laws be damned.”

It startles the man, makes him jerk back, away from them, away from Erich, and then he’s gone. Vanished into the darkness between one breath and the next, movement too fast for even Erich’s trained senses to follow.

His disappearance is a relief.

(His disappearance is a disappointment.)

“Are you alright, sir?” Degurechaff asks as she stalks forward, sweeping the area the Reaper had been. She kneels briefly. Rises to her feet with a strange, striped hat in her hands, and—

Erich doesn’t know what expression is on her face. Knows only that it’s cold-sharp-contemplative and that a distant part of him feels sorry for the Reaper.

Degurechaff is not an enemy he would wish upon someone lightly.

“Sir,” she repeats, looking away from the hat and frowning at him.

“I’m… fine,” he finally forces out, running a hand through his hair and trying to ignore the trembling in his limbs. “He… caught me by surprise is all.”

Her frown twists into a scowl. “Something to do with our friend’s little invisibility trick, sir?”

He swallows and looks away, unable to force the words through the lump in his throat, unable to deflect when she’s staring at him with narrowed, icy eyes, unable to answer because his answer will never be accepted—

“Permission to speak freely, sir?”

“Granted,” he answers automatically.

“You were interested in him until this evening when I showed you the camp,” she begins, stepping closer and dropping the Reaper’s hat on his bedroll. “Something about your ability to see his actions and our inability to do the same changed that. And that altercation a moment ago confirmed your suspicions.”

Erich tries to suppress a flinch. Fails. Forces himself to breathe through the uncertainty — the fear — that her words kindle until he can straighten up and meet her gaze at last. He’s still at a disadvantage, still sleep-ruffled and without his glasses and sitting while she stands before him but—

(She’s so small that he doesn’t have to look very far up even like this.)

(They’ve stolen so much from her—)

Her hand is held out towards him, his glasses held carefully between her fingers, and he accepts them with a quiet thanks.

It… helps.

She’s waiting. Patient like the predator she is. Patient like the trusted officer he’s known her to be.

(She’s passed every test Strategic Headquarters dealt her.)

(She’s held her tongue and kept their secrets and maybe, maybe he trusts her more than he ever thought, because—)

“This goes no further than the two of us,” he orders as he straightens the sleeves of his shirt and pulls his shoulders back and his chin up. “What I am about to tell you will seem fantastical, but I ask that you allow me to explain fully before you decide.”

“Understood, sir.”

He breathes out. Arranges his thoughts. Begins at the point he thinks she’ll understand best. “The power you and the world know as magic is a physical power, a power of the body. It exists, it can be measured and harnessed and quantified because it’s part of the natural world in the same way we are.

“It has an… alternate, shall we say. An equivalent power born of the soul, not of the body, and much less well known because of it. All beings have a soul but not all souls are powerful enough to be themselves and still have strength left over. My people simply call it ‘spiritual power’, and we keep our powers and what we can do to ourselves.”

Degurechaff’s eyes narrow thoughtfully at his words, her gaze weighted as she assesses him anew. “To not be exploited like we mages are, I assume.”

Erich purses his lips. “Yes and no,” he decides upon after a moment. “We can do things… very similar to mages at times — faster reflexes, stronger muscles, and so on — but it takes a toll on our bodies that magic doesn’t.”

“Because magic is physical like our bodies and this… spiritual power isn’t.”

“Yes. But there are other ways I can use it. The easiest of which…” He stretches out his senses, double checks that there are no Hollows nearby, and then—

Slams his strength down across Degurechaff’s shoulders.

(He needs her to know.)

(Needs her to understand the full horror of his power—)

She bends. Doesn’t kneel. Struggles to straighten up, panting with effort and determination and will—

Her soul sparks—

He cuts off his output before she can fully awaken, mentally cursing himself for the fool that he is because spiritual power is strength-will-self and if there has ever been someone possessed of any of that it’s Tanya von Degurechaff.

Degurechaff coughs and rubs at her chest, brows furrowing as she processes what just happened. There’s a dangerous edge to her gaze as she stares at him, but despite what he just forced upon her he… doesn’t think he’s actually her focus.

(It’s a bit of a relief, honestly.)

(That… could definitely have backfired on him.)

(Maybe discussing this in the middle of the night after being rattled by a Reaper soulmate isn’t the best idea…)

“That was… interesting, sir,” she settles on as she gets her breathing under control. “It felt like taking an artillery shell to the chest, except less… physical.”

Erich snorts and levels an exasperated look at her. “I wouldn’t know,” he drawls, “being a regular soldier instead of a mage and all.”

She cracks a smile at that, then glances down at the hat still resting on his bedroll. “Did your soulmate do something similar to the first camp?”

“Unlikely. What I just did was essentially targeted brute force, using the strength of my soul to overpower your own. Doing that for an entire camp…” Erich considers the logistics of the action and how much power it would have taken even assuming that every soldier was pure baseline, and shrugs. “It would have been the spiritual equivalent of your attacks that require a theatre-level warning.”

“So it’s loud and unmistakable for people who can sense it.”

“Not just people,” he says, needing her to understand the other reason that those with spiritual powers often kept to themselves. “Souls of those who die with regret don’t pass on. They linger where they die, unseen except by those who have spiritual powers, and if they linger long enough, their regret eats away their humanity until there’s nothing left. They become monsters we call Hollows, and their goal is to eat until the hole left by their regret is filled.”

Degurechaff stills, her pale eyes darting in the direction of the front, now abandoned but once a place of daily horrors. “The war…”

“Yes.” He’d numbed himself to the sight of twisted, regret-filled souls soon after it all began. There was nothing else he could do. “The number of regretful souls and newborn Hollows is… immense. And if I had used any amount of spiritual power around them, I would have been swarmed by enemies no one else could see.”

“Can’t you fight back?”

“I could. Ignoring how others would view my actions, I can and sometimes do fight back. My branch of spiritually active humans calls ourselves Quincy, and we once took upon ourselves the mandate of protecting humanity from beings that humanity could not see, like Hollows.”

“But you no longer do.”

Erich barks a laugh, tired-bitter-dark, and shakes his head. “When my grandparents were children, infants, a group of spiritually active souls crossed back over into our world and declared all Quincy anathema. They called us a danger to the balance of worlds, told us to cease our efforts to kill Hollows, and when we did not…”

“You were slaughtered,” Degurechaff finishes for him, expression doll-smooth and eyes glittering with… something. “Your soulmate is one of them. That’s why you’re afraid of him.”

He twitches at her leap in logic, which is clearly answer enough for her.

“Sir, with all due respect, the soulmate laws don’t apply here,” she says clearly, sharply, even as she clasps her hands behind her back and rocks up on her toes to gain an extra few millimeters of height. “Or rather, only certain ones do. He is a member of a belligerent force that has actively and with intent done harm to your people. Regardless of his current actions, his continued allegiance or connection to that force must be assessed before he’s allowed to further interact with you. And you are perfectly within your rights to repudiate him here and now.”

“I don’t think spirits quite care about living laws,” Erich says faintly, left hand moving to wrap around his right wrist. “Especially ones from the other side of the world.” Reassurance-trust-loyalty still thrums through his bones, relentless and unwavering and—

Maybe it’s just a trick, just a trap, just a way for a killer to get close to the survivors of the previous slaughter but—

What if it’s not?

Degurechaff sighs and turns on her heel, striding from his tent before he can say another word.

Erich groans and slumps forward as the flap closes behind her, pressing his face into his hands. Everything is a mess and now the only person who knows about that mess has decided she’s had enough—

“Don’t get too comfortable, sir,” Degurechaff announces as she ducks back in, her arms full of bedding. She tosses it down on the other side of tent and quickly neatens it out, then spins to fix him with a look. “Until we know his goals, we’ll be sharing a tent.”

“Colonel Degurechaff!” he barks in shock, stunned by her blatant flaunting of the rules.

“Too late to complain, sir,” she tells him with a tiny smirk. She drops to sit on her bedroll and unlaces her boots, pulling them off and setting them and her socks nearby. “I have already informed Visha that — as the only other ranking officer amongst our force and the one with the most current information — I will be bunking with you until you new soulmate problem is resolved.”

“You—!”

“Everyone saw your damn mark, sir. The only surprise is that your soulmate is nearby, and that vagueness sort of went to hell when two camps of enemy soldiers showed up mysteriously dead without any of us doing a damn thing.”

He gives up with another groan, pulling his glasses from his face and setting them aside before burying himself in his bedroll and folding his pillow over his face. There’s no way he’ll persuade her from her intended path now, not when she’s set her mind to standing between him and the Reaper.

Why she’s done so is a question he would like answers to, but… not tonight.

(He’s too shaken, too uncertain, to press for answers.)

(And… the sound of her steady breaths, the glittering feel of her partially-awoken soul…)

(Despite it all, it’s comforting.)

(How absurd…)

#soulmate au #tanya the evil #bleach #bleach/tanya #erich von rerugen #tanya von degurechaff #urahara kisuke #part 2

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readbythestarlight · 5 years ago

Text

c2e97

Live showwwwwww

Live... show?

Live show where are you??

Oh boy here we go!

He absolutely looks like a youth pastor on the first night of camp

"If a room is 50% laughs and 50% groans Taliesin adds 5 years to my life."

[[MORE]]

I’m not gonna be able to make it even to break at this point but I’m glad they were cool and got everyone seated

Okay what do they look like

ayyyyy cute!!

I like the matching robes

Ashely is stunning as always

That cloak is too short for attacks lol

Goddamn Marisha

Liam going with a proper Caleb cosplay

Sam the leprechaun man

That most normal he’s ever looked at a live show xD

Matt looks good in the cloak

Taliesin’s hair is amazing

There’s a little pirate leaking into his leprechaun

....I’m gonna miss Nott

"You’re such a smooth talker Fjord"

"....Yeahhhh..."

My full expectation: Caleb: "I wpuld like to cast fireball at that ship"

lol Nat1

petting a pupper

Y: "it’s not a journey unless people are... killed... along the way?"

This is quickly devolving into more stupidity than usual :P

They are all in the mood to be little shits tonight xD

OOOO they didn’t think the M9 would show up and

Matt

You wouldn’t

NOT ESSEK

fuCK YOU MATT

conflict is good at least he feels bad about it but FUCK

affection is good but I’m SAD

"Maybe you should try friends sometime"

Oh god but now Caleb has heard and everything sucks

J: "and he said we were friends!!"

My heart

Even if they forgive Essek he’ll be doomed if the Dynasty ever finds out

C: "I feel like a fool."

God Caleb what a mood

Just as I relaxed and felt safe

I’m genuinely hurt and it’s so dumb but

Okay... okay I’m glad they’re not judging him so hard

Er. Well. Most of them.

Like Cad and Fjord and Jester at least are trying to give him the benefit of the doubt

I have to go to bed now so I can work tomorrow and this is just going to weigh on me

This Marion bit is cracking me up but my heart is still broken

lol Marion freaking out about the Traveler

Beau lol

Marion lol!!

Cad’s like we do NOT want to bring mom to this

Awww Marion’s going out!!

C: "are you sure you are ready?"

N: "no... but I’m gonna do it anyway."

Now I really do have to go to bed ugh

Okay here we go

Back just in time for Nott’s sweet sad possibly goodbyes

Goodbye Nott, hello Veth!

Skslajdkwks omg Sam

I’m so emotional!!

The golem they all forgot they had? Sure why not xD

Oh no all dressed by Jester?

Yasha xD

I feel BeauYasha in this fish market tonight

Okay Caleb’s sounds SEXY I need ART

Oh sweet baby Jesus Beau’s outfit help me

Now THAT’s sexy

Yaaaas Jester

This old creep can choke

jeSTER

ROAST him girl ROAST HIM GOOD

Oh my GOD

You two

“Your teacher is a disappointment to many others” nICE

Guys don’t

Don’t paralyze him what are you doing

Oh Caleb no

Matt: WELCOME TO THE MIGHTY NEIN TRAVIS

Leave him aloooooone this is not how I want this confrontation to happen

“Friend” ouch

He sounds so sad

I’m so sad

Essek they love you and I love you

“I am but a humble, selfish creature.”

Babyyyyy

Babe they’re offering you a chance please take it

He had better get his journey to redemption because if he doesn’t I’m just gonna be heartbroken forever

I’m literally crying Caleb getting on his knees and turning Essek to face him

Like not even in a shippy way I don’t even care about that but I was worried they would all be so mad at him

Caleb acknowledging that they’ve made very similar mistakes

Okay Liam you’re just looking to kill me huh

“You were not born with venom in your veins. You learned it. You LEARNED it.” Oh. Oh, Caleb, sweetie.

CANNOT

WITH

A FOREHEAD KISS

Goddamn Liam O’Brien

This is everything I wanted ever

Yes hold is hand hug him give him the affection he deserves

“You are... a broken person......you sound like all of us. Welcome to the Mighty Nein.” Oh god here I go crying again

I’m destroyed

#critical role #cr spoilers #emi watches critical role

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