#it does in fact strike great levels of rage in me too

[arson-09]

i have gotten way too invested in soundmap but the collector in me is obsessed with it

[true-blue-sonic]

all four hedgehogs for the ask game

Sonic:

My boy! I don't talk about him a lot, but I think Sonic is a great character. He is incredibly inspirational to me, and I think I'll always have a soft spot for him because it is through his games that I gained the level of English I have now. Sonic is tremendously powerful, and I like how he both just does whatever he wants, but that "whatever he wants" is helping other people. He's got far more layers to him than you would see at first glance, and that is why I think it's sometimes hard for fans (myself included! I tend to make him too idealistic imo) to get him right. So yeah, a highly intriguing character that I cherish deeply!

Shadow:

Another cool character! This is interesting, because I was wayyyyy too young to play Sonic Heroes when it came out, but I do not disagree with the sentiment that reintroducing him one (1) game after SA2 was perhaps too quick. Especially considering the four storylines and twelve characters of Heroes, it feels a bit... odd? That Shadow just appeared again with amnesia and not that much attention brought to it, not at all helped by all the confusion of the Shadow Androids and whether or not he was the real one to begin with. Then add Battle making things more confusing with him allegedly having his memory back, and then StTH on top, haha. That being said, I think he's got a solid characterisation in '06, and I like his backstory and design a lot as well. I can certainly see why he is so popular in the fandom.

Amy:

Huh... I also like Amy, but none of these statements are really applicable, haha! I like Amy's optimism and her being the heart of the team, but also her occasional no-nonsense attitude and the fact she can be hot-tempered. She's not only a sweet innocent lil bby girl, but she's also not constantly angry and therefore unlikeable because of that. I would say that the early 2000s had WAY too much of the latter, what with her constant chasing after Sonic in just an unfun way to me (still thinking of her characterisations in Rush and Battle there), but she's gotten a lot better over the years, I feel like. She's sweet and kind but knows what she wants, and I quite like seeing her appear.

Silver:

My favourite character <3 <3

Usually I am not fond of the "So Literally Me" statements, but there's quite a few things in our personalities wherein Silver and I match. But what I like about him is that he's also got characteristics that I lack myself, such as his determination and his never-ending hope and just how far he is willing to go to make everyone happy. I find it incredibly inspiring! It did not take long for Silver to become my favourite (at first it was Blaze for a few months), and somehow he always finds his way back to the position. I really cannot think of anything about him personally I dislike: it's mostly just that it seems very difficult for fans and official/"official" media alike to see just what makes him who he is. He's not a weakass bby cinnamon roll 100, but he's also not a rage-driven idiot asshole (where my hot take of the day is that in the Rivals games, they actually manage to strike a balance between both these extremes as well!), and the only game wherein he was truly shown as naive and easily deceived was '06. There's a lot going on with his personality, and I love dissecting it all.

I would love to see more of him; I understand why Sega swiftly removed him from any large roles following '06 and its reception, but I also feel that Silver is becoming more popular again, at least on Tumblr. So maybe one day he'll get a game of his own, or be featured in a larger role than in prior instalments? Iizuka did say it is not impossible, in 2018. I do wonder how they'll make it work with his powers in a game series that focuses on speed first and foremost, but perhaps it'll be less of an issue if he's not presented alongside a speedier Sonic. Regardless, I'm (almost) always happy to see Silver appear!

[troquantary]

Didyme, Part 2: Something, Something, Plato's Allegory of the Cave

Continuing from here, and we’re doing sub-parts for this bit. I’m genuinely surprised I had this much to say. (And fun fact, I almost lost the entire goddamn post, but fortunately I was copy-pasting into Word just in case. Not today, Satan.)

2.1. What Canon Tells Us

Didyme’s murder by Aro (and with Caius’ apparent assistance, either during or afterwards), is only mentioned on the page in Life and Death, the 10th Anniversary gender-swapped version of Twilight. Edythe/Edward mentions it briefly when discussing the painting of the leaders Carine/Carlisle brought back from Volterra, but it’s just background information with little narrative weight. I bring it up just to highlight Caius’ involvement and knowledge -- I’ll get back to that.

Now, here’s the “canon” backstory we have to work with. Per the illustrated guide, Didyme was Aro’s younger sister, and he turned her at some point after meeting Marcus, Caius, and Athenadora. Interestingly, the Guide doesn’t say anything about Aro returning to Didyme out of brotherly love; apparently he just wanted to see if she would have a powerful gift like his, only to be underwhelmed (”disappointed,” according to his Guide entry) by her actual ability -- she made people happy just by being around them. Then she and Marcus fell in love, sharing “the strongest romantic bond of any of the Volturi” (from Marcus’ Guide entry), and this prompted a suddenly very single Aro to seek out his own mate, Sulpicia. The Guide says Didyme “distracted” Marcus from Aro’s goals, and that the pair eventually made plans to split off on their own, leading Aro to murder Didyme so he could hold onto Marcus and his valuable gift. Although nothing written so far suggests that Aro even liked his sister, the Guide does state that Aro “truly loved her” and that his grief upon killing Didyme was genuine.

Apparently Caius’ role in all is was something Meyer thought up later, because none of the leaders’ Guide entries mention him being in on it. (You can’t see me, but I’m staring pointedly at Part One.)

2.2. Fuck Canon, Actually

(This just seemed like the funniest place for a cut. Continued below~)

I’ll be honest with you, person who’s persistent/unfortunate enough to still be here: very little about this murder scenario makes sense to me. I’m going to start with the “disappointing” nature of Didyme’s gift and that it was supposedly much less useful to Aro than Marcus’, because that’s just...stupid, frankly, and there’s no way Aro would have missed the inherent utility of Didyme’s gift. I don’t even have to read into anything to get this idea -- the Guide itself shows us how useful it is! It says right there in Marcus’ entry that Aro went off to turn Didyme, and returned with his sister, “along with the first members of the guard -- vampires who were drawn to Didyme’s aura of happiness.” That is a direct quote.

Just -- I practically shrieked when I read that. You’re telling me that Didyme’s gift was the stated reason their coven got its first subordinates, and I’m supposed to believe that Aro thought that was disappointing? Fuck off! Fuck off!! Even if Didyme’s happiness aura isn’t as powerful as Corin’s opium haze, well, Aro doesn’t have Corin yet, does he? He has every reason in the world to want to keep Didyme around, drawing other vampires to his cause -- even if most of those vampires aren’t gifted or skilled enough to join the guard, it’s still good PR.

At this early stage in the Volturi’s rise to power, it isn’t a good time to lose Didyme -- or any of his inner coven, really. Yet Aro apparently considered her disposable enough that he killed her. I can’t square this with what we know about Aro: that he’s still coherent despite holding god-knows how many people’s lives in his head; that he’s very intelligent; that he’s cunning, charming, and persuasive. Aro, once he learned they were thinking about leaving, would have tried to talk to Didyme and Marcus and done everything in his power to convince them to stay just a bit longer, until the Volturi’s position was more secure. And maybe he did; the timeline of all this is hazy, but nothing in the Guide suggests that Aro jumped straight to duplicity and murder. Clearly, though, whatever negotiations or arguments he presented failed. So what does their desire to leave the Volturi at this critical stage say about Didyme, or Marcus for that matter?

2.3. What It Says About Didyme and Marcus (Mostly Headcanon)

Brace yourself, because we’re into full headcanon territory now. To follow me, please refer to @therealvinelle ‘s meta about the larger mission of the Volturi and why they’re necessary, because I’m starting from the perspective that the Volturi are ultimately a force working in vampires’ and humans’ favor. While Meyer and the Guide would have you believe that Aro’s just power-hungry, actually looking at the impact of the Volturi and the benefits of enforcing secrecy shows that his broader vision isn’t just world domination, but establishing a world in which vampires and humans can both thrive and endure. There’s no way the rest of the inner coven was unaware of this goal; we know Aro talks a lot, so he’s certainly talked his coven’s ears off about this.

Now, we know very little about Marcus and what he was like before he was all dead inside. Based on what would be a logical balance of personalities, with Aro as lead decision-maker and Caius as ruthless enforcer, it seems likely that Marcus was originally the voice of reason and/or mercy. I also think Marcus would have had a strong sense of duty. The Guide says that Aro was the first friend Marcus had as a vampire, and I believe that Marcus cared about him very much and was committed to the Volturi. I think he would have been genuinely conflicted about leaving, especially considering the stabler, safer world the Volturi have been striving to build, and which they haven’t yet secured. Again, it’s a very bad time for any of the leadership to split off -- but in the end, Marcus and Didyme are going to do it anyway.

What for, though? Why leave? @theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin has an interesting take on that question here: that Didyme saw that she and Marcus would be locked into the Volturi life and a thankless existence for eternity and tried to opt out while she still could. I like it a lot, it’s a great post and that scenario makes sense, but the tone of it feels...too forgiving. Maybe that’s because I’m evil. But the way I see it, given the magnitude of the Volturi’s mission, and its (at best) very tenuous grip on power at the time Marcus and Didyme plan to leave (they haven’t even defeated the Romanians yet), jeopardizing the entire operation so that they can pursue their romance unburdened strikes me as...well, fundamentally selfish on some level, so much that I find myself side-eyeing Didyme and Marcus for it. Although to be clear, it’s not the desire to live their own lives apart from the Volturi that I find selfish, just the timing of their departure.

Honestly, I’d like not to vilify another female character if I don’t have to. Given everything I’ve just said, I see Didyme in much the same way as I see Bella: not a bad person, but someone with definite selfish tendencies. At best, she’s likely short-sighted or naive if she doesn’t see how leaving the Volturi at this stage is fucking them over in a big way. However, I hesitate to read into the happiness aura as a straightforward indication of Didyme’s fundamental goodness; I think she probably was kind, charming, and delightful to be around, hence the nature of her gift -- but that capacity for selfishness is still there. (I’m certain Meyer wants us to take her gift as proof of Didyme’s goodness, to reinforce how evil Aro is for killing her...but I think I’ve made my disdain for what Meyer wants me to think pretty clear.)

2.4. MURDER MOST FOUL

I am not saying it was justifiable or okay for Aro to murder his sister. I’m really not. It’s actually better, from a character standpoint, that it isn’t okay -- that Aro has to carry this with him for the rest of his life while Marcus sits in the throne next to him, reduced to a husk, so that in effect Aro has lost them both after all. It’s got that Greek tragedy element @theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin​ mentioned in her post. (Even better from that standpoint, the Guide implies that Aro found Chelsea relatively soon after killing Didyme, which compounds the tragedy.) I mean, it’s terrible, and it hurts me because I love Aro, but it’s compelling stuff.

What I am saying is, I can see how their insistence on leaving might have deeply hurt and offended him. And that brings me to my issue with the calculated murder scenario the Guide gives us -- I still think Didyme’s gift is too valuable for Aro to throw away by killing her in cold...venom (or whatever), even as the price for keeping Marcus in the fold. Plus, there’s the fact that Aro does love Didyme, and I imagine her gift makes it very difficult for people to think of harming her...when they’re calm, anyway.

Yeah, the only way I can really see the murder happening is if Aro killed Didyme in the heat of an argument about her leaving, possibly even by accident -- except you can’t accidentally kill a vampire, can you? It’s a very deliberate process wherein you have to dismember them and burn every piece, which also means it probably takes long enough that any irrational, overwhelming rage would wear off before you were done. But now that you’ve started....

I mean, at that point it would certainly be awkward to put your half-rubble sister back together, and Aro would be in a whole other load of shit even if he did. It’s possible, given what we’re told, that Aro could have lashed out and yanked Didyme’s head off before snapping out of it, only to realize that his sole option now is to finish the job. If he doesn’t kill Didyme now, she and Marcus won’t just leave, they’ll be sworn enemies of Aro from then on. And thanks to Didyme’s gift being the draw for a lot of the guard, and the inherently bad look of a leader who would brutally attack his own sister, a chunk of the guard would probably leave with them, destroying Aro’s plans. No, the only way to salvage it is to follow through.

Then Aro has to call in Caius for help with the cover-up, because it wasn’t actually planned and it’s just pure luck that no one walked in on the murder as it was happening.

And maybe Aro learns a hard lesson about learning to let people walk away, leaving the possibility open that they could be drawn in again. Because if Aro had just waited, he would have found Chelsea, and with her gift he could have had Marcus and Didyme back again.

Assuming everything didn’t fall apart as soon as they left, of course. But that’s a whole other what-if scenario.

[tennessoui]

I love amnesia aus so so much thank you for providing that content 💖 much love

ahhh thank you so much!!! have some further down the line angst with very little context except that i gave anakin a tattoo as well and obi-wan can't cope (not in the sexy way :( )

(kit to kit: this is gonna be the five sentence dialogue you thought about while cooking dinner thats it

kit to kit: yeah at the end i'll put that at the end dw)

(1.4k)

Obi-Wan freezes and retracts his hand as if he’s been burned.

Anakin desperately wishes he’d never moved to take off his shirt--of course that was too far, too fast, of course his partner wasn’t ready for that.

Nice job at karking everything up, Shmison, he berates himself as he fights the urge to lurch for the tunic he already threw away behind him, or even more absurdly, cover his chest with his hands.

But Obi-Wan’s gaze seems stuck on the tighter skin of his left shoulder. His eyebrows are furrowed and his eyes look--the word escapes him.

He can’t understand what emotion Obi-Wan is feeling. He wonders if Skywalker would have been able to tell. The thought makes him feel angry and bitter, and with no idea what else to do with those emotions, he pushes them to the very back of his mind.

“You have a tattoo,” Obi-Wan finally murmurs, reaching out to trace the beak of the black and gray starbird Anakin’s got stretching over his shoulder and towards his heart. One wing stretches just across the nape of his neck, the other extends down his arm. The only thing that breaks up the flow of delicate ink work is the force suppression collar that stands out starkly against the skin of his neck.

“Tail takes up a good bit of my back,” Anakin replies, keeping his voice low and soft to match Obi-Wan’s. “Hurt like an Imp blast, but all I’ve got are compliments.”

It is, apparently, the wrong thing to say, because Obi-Wan--if possible--withdraws further into himself, going as far as to get off the couch all together. As if even sharing a piece of furniture with Anakin is too much right now.

A part of him wants to scoff and roll his eyes, throw up his hands and declare this typical of the other man. Another part of him wants to follow him, press him against the wall so that there’s no space in between their bodies--not to do anything more than inhale his scent and relish in the fact that he has managed to pin down his wayward Mast--

And that’s definitely not his thought. He fights the urge to rub at his head, because he knows what Obi-Wan will do. Obi-Wan will step forward out of concern. He’ll say something along the lines of, ‘Anakin?��� but he’ll say it the way no one else has ever said his name. Imbued with a thousand different emotions, none of which Anakin Shmison has really earned. Anakin doesn’t think he can take it right now.

So instead of all that, Anakin gets up and grabs his shirt from where he’d--optimistically in hindsight--tossed it at the wall adjacent to the end of the couch. Obi-Wan is silent for this humiliation, which makes Anakin irrationally angry.

“I’m guessing Skywalker never wanted tattoos?” he snips, balling his shirt into his fists but not shrugging it on.

It’s a general rule they have silently agreed upon in the past few months since Obi-Wan’s joined the Rebellion. They can talk about anything in the entire galaxy. Except Anakin Skywalker. Now Anakin’s feeling just disappointed and bitter enough to enjoy breaking it. To enjoy watching the slightest flicker of pain flash across Obi-Wan’s face.

“I…” Obi-Wan says, eyes finally jumping away from Anakin’s tattoo guiltily. “I suppose that I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Anakin asks. “You and your Skywalker never talk about that sort of thing?”

Obi-Wan crosses his arms and shifts until his legs are shoulder-width apart. Anakin could recognize this stance in anyone: it’s the look of a man who’s getting ready to fight.

Had they really been kissing like the Seppies were outside their door just a few minutes ago?

“Don’t call him that,” Obi-Wan bites out.

This pulls Anakin up. “What? Skywalker?” Well kriff Kenobi then, Anakin needs some way to differentiate between himself and whatever else used to live in his head.

“Mine,” the former Jedi General corrects in a tone that’s probably supposed to be forceful but comes out too aching to be anything but sad. “He wasn’t--”

Anakin wants to say that the impression he gets is that Skywalker definitely, on at least some level, thought of himself as Obi-Wan’s, but his mission here isn’t to actively hurt the man. He doesn’t want to hurt the man. He doesn’t want to see this man hurt, which is strange considering how often the man looks haunted in his presence.

“Fine,” he cuts him off. “Yeah, I got a tattoo. Do you like it?”

Obi-Wan hesitates in such a way that Anakin wants to throw his shirt at him. “I do,” he finally admits. “It’s a very...striking design.”

“Thank you,” Anakin replies easily. “I wanted a change.”

“That’s understandable, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says. The blank way he says the word is almost worse than hearing it said with all those emotions not meant for him. What did Skywalker do to have Obi-Wan care about him so much it dripped off the way he said his name? What can Anakin do to get the same effect? Is it even possible anymore, or are they both too old and bitter and estranged from their hearts?

“I didn’t want to live in the past,” Anakin confesses, only realizing how it sounds and who he’s talking to when Obi-Wan tenses up.

The other man’s tone becomes cold. “I applaud that decision of course, though I suppose it must have been easy to make considering you don’t remember it.”

Anakin draws himself up, anger lancing through his chest. He still isn’t wearing a shirt so he shrugs it on angrily and buttons it up without focusing on any of the buttons. He’s incandescent with rage at the fact that Obi-Wan is implying that he’s had it easy. That he hasn’t spent almost a decade agonizing over who he had been, over who he is, over if he’s anyone at all or just the smashed up pieces of Anakin Skywalker pieced together in a different fashion.

So he’s not really thinking logically about what he says next. He’s not really thinking about the fact that he doesn’t want to hurt this man, that he’ll regret this all in a few hours.

“And I suppose you should try something other than wallowing in it! What were you doing when we found you, Obi-Wan? What was the great Jedi General of the Clone Wars doing when I knocked on the door to your hut? Making children’s toys and meditating?”

Obi-Wan’s jaw clenches so tightly that Anakin’s half-afraid he’ll break his teeth. Whatever he’s holding himself back from saying must be taking all of his not-insignificant willpower.

Anakin keeps going. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry for your losses, but you chose to exile yourself to a dusty Sith’s hell planet when the Rebellion could have used you from the beginning! Seven years, Obi-Wan! Did you do nothing but mourn? How warm did those memories keep you at night, huh?”

He pauses to take a breath, and Obi-Wan holds up a shaking hand. Everything in Anakin stops for a second, as if he’s been conditioned to freeze at this signal. Maybe he has. Being around Obi-Wan lately has been a lesson in learning what the mind forgets but the body remembers.

“Do you think,” Obi-Wan begins very, very quietly. He stops and breathes out and closes his eyes tightly. His breathing trembles as hard as his hand does.“Do you think I have never, in the past eight years, wanted to forget? Everything? Do you have any idea? What I would do? To not remember? Even for an hour?”

In the face of even a hint of tumultuous emotion from Obi-Wan, Anakin can feel the anger drain out of his body. He wonders if Skywalker ever said anything to get a rise out of his master, only to be given what he wanted and find that he regretted it. Would Skywalker apologize? Would he hoard his anger around him like shields and push forward until he’s exhausted himself? Would he--

But Anakin isn’t Skywalker.

“I could hit you really hard on the head with a wrench?” he offers. “Worked for me.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes find his for a silent, incredulous second before the man breaks out into laughter. It’s rich and light and from the belly and he has to come forward to sit on the couch just so he doesn’t fall over.

Anakin laughs too, because if this isn’t funny then it’s something else entirely and so it has to be funny.

He sits gingerly next to Obi-Wan who has his head in his hands. When the man’s laughter turns to sobs, he clasps his shoulder gently but firmly. It’s both a surprise and not a surprise at all when the Jedi General leans into his touch.

[thessalian]

Thess vs Being Singled Out

So ... okay, the office is having its yet another bit of weird and I’m not sure what to make of some of it.

Some of it I do know exactly what to make of, however. Mostly I make Rage Kabob.

(I was mistaken yesterday, incidentally. Goblin does not rely on the train to get to work. She relies on the Tube and a very unreliable bus. She just has other shit to do on Thursday and booked this time off a month ago. This will come into play later.)

So Goblin’s not in tomorrow or Friday. I’m not in Friday. Not sure Sunshine’s in on Friday either. We just can’t be. There’s no earthly way. And we’re already backlogged because of being down a typist - we can’t kill that backlog when we’re understaffed. So obviously we want to minimise the backlog as much as we can while we can.

Which does nothing to explain why Scruffman decided that today was a great day to take a half-day with absolutely zero warning. This means we have to handle his phones, deal with delivery of specimens, deal with email, and after all that, try to get our typing done. Made harder by the fact that he’s not around to pitch in with that.

He’s nagging us about not coming in when we literally cannot get there - at least not without health issues - and vanishes for the best part of the day before that all starts kicking off. Well fucking done.

And when I say nagging, I mean it. Which is where Goblin’s situation comes in. See, when Scruffman emailed about our availability during the strike period, he did so individually, instead of just sending a generic email to the secretarial contact list the way he normally does. This ... strikes me as more than a little fishy, honestly; we should all know each other’s availability if at all possible. But we’re apparently being kept on a serious information diet at the office.

Anyway, my email chain was simple. He asked my availability; I flagged up I’d be in tomorrow but I’d booked Friday off and that request was approved at the start of last week; matter closed. Goblin, on the other hand, did not get off so lightly. He asked her availability. She flagged up the situation; that she booked tomorrow off a month ago and wouldn’t be able to be in on Friday because she literally could not get there. Now, you would think that matter would be resolved. Apparently not, because then he turned around to her and said, “That’s inconvenient; could you not come in for at least part of Thursday? Or make up the time on Saturday?”

Recall what I said about ‘really inconvenient bus’. That’s pretty typical out in the boondocks where Goblin lives. And it gets worse over the weekend. As in, one comes once an hour on weekends. Now, he’d asked her about ‘making up the time’ on a weekend before, and she’d explained her situation as regards transport. But apparently he’s going to hope she’s changed her mind about it.

Now, I don’t like Goblin very much. I think she’s surly, argumentative, and unpleasant a lot of the time. However, I do not think she deserves that, just on a professional level. You don’t do that to your secretaries. If they’d wanted us to not have issues because of the public transport strikes, they should have expedited the working from home situation, shouldn’t they?

Thing is, it did lead me to wondering ... why didn’t he ask me to work over the weekend? Or any of the others? Why only Goblin? I mean, I might go in tomorrow to find an email to that effect sitting in my inbox, but still. Maybe it’s because of the health issues - because you’d better believe that if I do find a request like that in my inbox, I will be explaining that no, I will not work over the weekend, because I’ve already been pushing too hard trying to at least not lose too much ground since Sid left and I need a recovery day; the Tube strike just means it’s necessary on multiple levels. Of course, that might also be part of the reason - I have a very different method of taking no bullshit than Goblin does, but I still refuse to take bullshit.

It’s just all got weird at the office. Scruffman’s got all information-diet on all of us, is basically made of stress, and is not really helping the working environment. And he gets really snippy when someone talks to Head Honcho instead of him ... which, well, sucks to be him because it’s been a month since I emailed Head Honcho about the status of our work-from-home situation and I haven’t had a peep out of either of them about it. I have my email trail with Head Honcho because I want all of it down on paper. Hell, our previous correspondence chain had him forwarding me an email from IT going, “Okay, so we just need the login details to install some stuff on the laptop and then we’re good to go” so why we have to go all the way back to “did anyone talk to Occupational Health?” I have no idea, but Head Honcho’s the only one who can deal with that discrepancy. I’ve got most of the email written; I’m just looking for a polite way of saying, “Look, if you’re trying to stall us in hopes that we’ll just forget all about it, I need to know so I can explore my options”.

Also, my stepfather was in here today. I only know because he moved one of my chairs without putting it back, and didn’t reset my oven clock when he was messing with the electrics. *grumble*

[synoxshots]

The Master KOTFE Adventure

My latest project has been playing through KotFE on master mode.

Why ever would you want to do that? you may ask, and I have asked myself the same thing. In short, it was a mix of having a light sided empire toon that I didn't want the autocompletes on, and the fact that he is also the best geared character I've ever had and the discipline I've had most experience playing. And I've run through KotFE quite a few times so, freshening it up I guess? 

So this is how it went. This isn't a guide - more, a record of my experiences as I went through. As ever, some things I found easy others might find hard, and (more likely, lbr) vice versa. 

The gamer:

I play a Rage Jugg, wear Descent of the Fearless set, gear level 306 with a full set of 286 augments. So - very well geared, but not fully optimised stats wise. Experience wise for this - I'd done a few chapters on vet mode before with a Guardian (Focus) and Powertech (Pyrotech) though not always at max gear (probably in the 290s when I first gave it a go), and I like trying to solo group content like vet fps (master for Red Reaper only) because I don't love myself, I guess. A smidge of ops experience. I'm reasonably competent as a player but also prone to stupid, I don't claim to be great by any means.

Chapter I

All went smoothly, died on the last fight against the BD-148 elite skytrooper - but that was just because I forgot about heroic moments existing, given that half the chapter is spent without a companion. Used my enraged defence a few times but never really felt at risk of dying. Apart from the one time when I did, obviously. Marr goes up to 28 influence automatically. Lots of mobs can be skipped as they're already engaged in fights.

Chapter II

Quite a few mobs you can skip around. Valkorion heals you though he's not a companion so no heroic moment. Last monolith did get me close to death sometimes, so there was a bit of running away so I could heal up a bit more, and making good use of defensive abilities. But no deaths on this one!

Chapter III

I died twice on this one, both were easily preventable. The first was against the Ground Assault Walker (massive droid before the bridge) and pretty much because I hadn't raised Lana's influence yet, so I upped it to 20 before starting the fight again and cleared it very quickly. Sidenote: a while back I bought a bunch of Spiced Aric Tongue from the Jawa scrap peddlers as I didn't know what else to do with all that, Lana accepts it so it's a nice quick way to up her level (Koth likes it too, a lot, which is handy). Second death was against like, a handful of skytroopers when I was shutting down the reactor and really it was mostly because I wasn't paying attention properly, though Lana died both times at this point. There's another fight where these prototype skytroopers keep swarming and I was a bit nervous because there were kolto stations there and I couldn't entirely remember how intense it got. The answer was...not intense at all and I definitely didn't need them. The final fight on this one is the two Zakuul knights but they didn't cause me any problems. All in all I'd say the deaths I've had so far have all been my own fault.

Chapter IV

This...did not go as well. And I'm not entirely sure why, just bad play on my part I think mostly, sometimes there are days when I just play like trash *shrug*. Not timing things like enraged defence, heroic moments and so on very well which meant I died a few times to wildlife - twice the larger bosses, twice mobs of normal/strong ones. Yeah... Kept upping my companion influence so all three (Lana, Koth and HK by this point) got up to 27 but I think even higher than that may be needed as they just didn't seem to be healing well. 

Chap V

I was a bit wary heading into this one, as it was one I'd run before on vet mode and remembered having trouble with the skytrooper waves. I was less geared then though, and had less companion influence doing that, having now taken everyone up to about 32. I didn't record any deaths on this though had a near miss - but I had saved my enraged defence/heroic moment and so on and hit them at the right time. Hey, I'm playing smarter! 

Chapter VI

I found this chapter easy when I'd run it on veteran not long before, but that was not the case on master. Died the first time against Oggo, that was my own fault though, although he does have one particular ability that hits very hard. Then came the Scions. Ohhh boy. The first two you face killed me, fair enough I hadn't had a chance to raise Senya's influence yet. The second two, Venat and Berusal, caused me pain. The good thing is that when fighting the pairs and you take one down, if you die the other doesn't respawn. The other good thing is that Venat and Berusal can be pulled separately, the bad news is I found this out after a few attempts. And Berusal still killed me on his own the first time. I was not having a fun time. And then you face Heskal without a companion. It takes a bit of tactics. I tried to damage him whilst he was doing Debris Storm, though still had to avoid the red circles. Turbulence gives a lot of damage, so had to hastily get out the way/interrupt it. He also stuns you which isn't fun. Valky pops up and offers you an out after the first phase, unfortunately I decided to stay true to character and not take it. Bad times were had. I went to lunch. I asked a friend to help. My internet got switched off before that could happen. I found out I was able to summon a companion...I know I'm not supposed to story wise, and I'm not sure if you can normally (there's a lot of times when companion summon buttons are greyed out due to story restrictions) or if this was only because I'd previously logged out...but suddenly the fight became a lot easier. Funny that. Sigh. Moving on...

Chapter VII

Honestly not much to say about this one, nothing that caused me trouble. A lot of it is in the open world so regular difficulty rather than scaled to master. 

Chapter VIII

This one wasn't much trouble either, did die once when stuff was on cooldown, once in the final Arcann fight. Kiting him over and hitting the conduits there is a big help as they stun him, that is probably very obvious but I've literally never bothered with them on story or vet mode. We're halfway there!

Chapter X

This one also gave me a Time. The problem I had was when you come up against Faedral and Zaamsk. My first thought was the difficulty was because I hadn't raised Kaliyo's influence (oops, but you get her on the spot and I didn't have gifts handy...or at least the ones I thought she liked she didn't actually) (this is how I found out that agent!Kaliyo and alliance!Kaliyo have different preferences, apparently this will also apply to other - but not all - returning companions). But I raised her to 28 and still kept dying. It's a bit of a nasty fight honestly, and the guide I looked at said that juggs...aren’t ideal for it. Crowd control and interrupts are very handy. I kept getting really close to getting one of them down and dying just before I could, super annoying because it's another of those where if you take one down and die, you only have to face the other one. I took a break and read the guide more closely, watched some videos, and ultimately just decided to bring someone along to avoid the pain, or maybe share in it. I still died but we got through them. The fight against Tayvor Slen, the boss fight of the chapter, took a couple of tries with two of us - the first time I got stuck in a red circle and pretty much insta-killed. There was a bit of a close call on the second attempt but it was under control really. The achievement then comes through for chapter completion, all you have to do then is get out of the Overwatch, all things rosy right? Oh how wrong they were. A bunch of Zakuul Knights came along and literally just slaughtered us, full on, one-shotting us both - it was hilarious and extremely confusing because why?? how?? Did the bonus mission to get the prisoners to escape (look out for the glowing terminal, it says 'Overwatch Prison Logs' when you hover over it) - they one-shot a few Knights but then disappeared on us too. Who knows. But we got through it.

Chapter XI

A much nicer one though still had a handful of deaths. Where you meet up with Havoc Squad there's ambush of Skytroopers, followed by a couple of walkers - and the walkers beat me. They cast circles that I just couldn't get out of in time to save my health, even with my defensives. I'm not sure if they were the type to follow you or a sort of stamp move (I should have looked at the cast bar, come to think of it) - I suspect though it was the latter and so it wouldn't be an issue on a ranged character. The fight though does continue around you if you die so you don't lose the progress you make, just use the med probe, revive and rejoin. I only took Jorgan to level 7 because that was all the gifts I had, but most of the mobs were just regular trash, typically 3 at a time, which was no worry. When you attack the base the Knights are a bit harder - there's one round the back that does stealth strikes and that's a difficult one to face. I died - the respawn to medbay actually puts you inside the part with the forcefield you're supposed to take down, and then you can't get out of it...I maintain that I did find a way past the forcefield but it doesn't work as a cheesing method. Use your med probe, otherwise it's quick travel out and re-enter your phase. The final battle is a big droid (I forgot the name of it). It spawns a bunch of smaller droids, just ignore those and go for the boss - I didn't the first time and that's why I died - I lost Jorgan, I had two Knights chasing me whilst the droid put up shields, it didn't go well - second time I did it in less than a minute whilst using a heroic moment.

Chapter XII

This one you don't have a companion for, though it's not a big deal - for the most part my main enemy, as tends to be the case on this chapter, was the map. I think the regular mobs are scaled down a bit for playing without a companion. You can pick up an animal to help you as well, which you may as well do as things just die quicker. It runs off in caves. Valkorion does take your health down a fair chunk before he gives you his beat down but it wasn't so bad. Vaylin though took quite a few attempts. You can't interrupt her so you have to be on the ball with your defensives and timing them all, which includes the shield and medpac given in your temporary bar for the chapter. Really the medpac isn't that effective so don't count on it. There's a lot of running around as she casts red circles. Probably easier with a character with more self heals. I got through it after a few efforts, after getting close a few times, though even then I was still low on health by the end.

Chapter XIII

Yeah, this one was no trouble really, and that was with Gault at only level 4 influence. If things get hairy whack a bit more on him, there's no real mechanics to pose problems. As ever, good practice to stay out of circles on the boss fight, you have Vette there as well so a bit of extra damage going and yeah. Nothing to worry about.

Chapter XIV

Another that was nice and simple, I didn't even have any gifts to give Torian so was wandering around with him on level 1. Just a matter of timing defensives and heroic moments in that case. Lots is open world, too. Final boss fight was no problem at all.

Chapter XV

Reading guides for this put the fear of god into me, so I was pleasantly surprised to find it better than expected. The bosses were the toughest parts. The first is the Skytrooper Constructor, that one does spawn adds after a while as well. It killed me a couple of times but really I'm not sure what the best strategy was so I just went for the classic, burn it as fast as I possibly can and making use of heroic moment/defensives as well. The GEMINI droid at the end had me worried. That took 3 attempts (maybe 4, I think it was just 3 though), one of those my heroic moment was still on cooldown and Senya died quickly on it too. It was really just about managing defensives effectively as well, running away when she has the red cone in front of you, using the heroic moment for extra speedy damage. It was a close call in the end but my enraged defence came off cooldown at the perfect moment, thank you Grit Teeth. I wouldn't say this was an easy chapter by any means so quite proud of myself for getting through it on my own! The other thing I would say is watch out for the lasers - they don't do lots of damage on story mode, but on master they one-shot you if you get caught in them! The other various traps I probably got through easier than I have on the lower difficulties which may just be a testament to this being like, my fifth complete kotfe run at this stage haha.

Chapter XVI

The final chapter...and the one I was the most scared of. Took Lana up to lvl 50 in preparation...she duly died early on in the first boss anyway. KJ-931 is the first boss - I say first boss, there's still a high rank enemy immediately before that I died to a few times anyway and needed a heroic moment to beat. First attempt against KJ I actually came really close. Stay out of the aoes - there's a white circle and a yellow cone, as well as a big red laser thing where you have to rush to the corner and if you can - micromanage Lana well enough that she doesn't get caught up in them too. So I learnt that I am not good at micromanaging companions like that. Take the turrets rather than the shields, definitely - apparently the shields also have limited use, the turrets pull aggro as well as giving you damage so they're very handy. Sometimes on this fight I got one-shotted very quickly, others I managed to hold on a bit - but it was the first attempt that was my best run until I actually did it. Honestly I can't say what the trick was to finally getting it right...just a lot of blind panic and luck. Second boss is Dara Nadal - I found it easier to just go for the intense burn on her - put down the turrets, use a heroic moment, set Lana to damage as well and burn. Still took a few attempts on her but each time I was getting very close so I knew I would get there.

And then came Arcann. Ooooh boy. I'd been reading guides and watching videos in preparation but there's still a lot to keep on top of. I decided to use the Marr & Satele Special Saber rather than my usual one - having the benefit of being able to run around quickly was handy, and the other ability reflects damage from his saber attack. This took many attempts - some that went very quickly, some that got him to his final phase. Rather than going into specifics I'm going to link to this video as it probably explains what to do best (it’s handy for all the bosses). You really have to watch for the moment he gets to ~25% and stands in one spot - if you aren't able to do the shield whacky he will kill you straight up. My first time running towards him with the shield in that very last phase I died on the way up. It took me a long time and a lot on repair bills but this is another one I was very proud of for getting through on my own as there were times I didn't think I would.

General stuff:

I would say doing this is not for the light-hearted but it’s certainly possible! Apart from one chapter where I grabbed a friend I got through them all on my own

Some classes fair better in certain chapters than others. I went with my Jugg all the way through, but if you have the characters geared and you know them well enough - and you're doing this for the cheevos rather than going through the storyline - you're likely better off mixing and matching as you go. There were many occasions I wished I had range.

You will die to trash mobs. It is a fact of life. It feels embarrassing in the early chapters, you come to accept this and move on.

Companion influence helps a lot. Koth, Lana, and Senya all like delicacies (especially Koth, that man can eat) - you can grab these from the Jawa vendors in the cartel bazaar on fleet.

Med droids are also a booming industry thanks to the amount I've spent on repairs in the course of this.

There are more mechanics compared to story mode, and some that exist in story mode that you just notice more on master. But apparently the difference between vet and master is just artificial - more health and hitting harder. 

Going Commando is another good resource for their experiences playing through.

[theladysexpistol]

Ok so i have this thought like La Squadra's reaction to their s/o being a witch and have a hellhound familiar please ?

Man you guys keep bringing up things I forget to say I LOVE and am ECSTATIC to write about! I love paranormal/occult stuff!! I was in a paranormal club in college undergrad and we did ghost investigations, had psychics come and guest speak, spent nights talking about cryptids and aliens and all kinds of conspiracies... it was amazing!! We’ve talked about witches and hellhounds loads of times!!

I really, really had a lot of fun with this one 😈

~~~

Risotto

- The first thing that caught his eye about his s/o was their asethetic. In what I can only describe as like, witchy goth, with a big black dog. He’s a fan.

- Ris thought they were just into the occult stuff, figured they probably were into astrology and tarot cards and crystals and such.

- Here’s how im imagining he finds out: a rival gang learns his s/o is dating Risotto, the capo of the hitman team. His team has probably killed a lot of rival gang members. So naturally, they’re gonna target his s/o. Risotto learns about the plot and goes to rescue them, only to find their big Rottweiler-looking dog spitting fire and moving like a shadow, while his s/o chants in some demonic/ancient language and puts a curse on their attacker.

- Honestly? Risotto’s totally into it.

- I mean I would say his Stand is pretty violent honestly, the way he makes razor blades and needles and scalpels pop out of his victim’s own blood. So the witch stuff wouldn’t bother him in the slightest.

- In fact it probably makes their relationship a little more, idk kinky? His s/o is probably very interested in the ways he can manipulate blood, both for their witchy spellcrafting and on a sexual pleasure level

- Risotto keeps his s/o a secret, from his team but that’s mostly to keep them from the boss. He knows the boss would probably try to use them for his own gain, and Ris is not interested in letting the boss get a hand on them. His s/o could be his advantage in taking down the boss, too.

- The two of them are an absolute power couple. You cannot beat them when they’re together. That’s not including the hellhound either. Witchy s/o and Ris would have demolished anyone in the Bucci gang, unless they were like all fighting together against the two of them.

Formaggio

- Again, Formaggio was probably really drawn in by the s/o’s witchy goth asethetic. He’s kinda dumb.

- Formaggio is a cat guy, so he doesn’t like their familiar at first. Especially because it’s a big, scary looking dog.

- But the hellhound reflects its master’s feelings, and as soon as they feel affection toward Formaggio it will too.

- Formaggio finds out when he’s showing his s/o his Stand. He shrinks himself and they think at first he’s a witch too. Formaggio is very confused; he’s only known Stands. He didn’t know witches were real.

- But he likes that they can shrink things too, and that they definitely don’t think his Stand is useless (the way the rest of his team seems to think)

- Is probably now even more afraid of the hellhound now knowing it’s a hellhound that could roast him alive, but figures as long as he doesn’t break his s/o’s heart he’s probably safe

- He tries to brag about them at least to Illuso for sure, the smug bastard. Most of the team doesn’t believe him, except Pesci and Melone.

- Would absolutely let them try out spells and curses on him. He strikes me as an adrenaline junkie. As long as he gets rewarded for it 😏

Illuso

- Okay I’ll be honest I guess since this is the third one I’m like “he’d be into the asethetic” I guess I just imagine most of the hitman team would absolutely be into goth/punk. Also witchy goth is just very hot okay and that’s what I’m imagining here

- Illuso finds out very quickly they’re a witch because he uses his mirror world to spy on them

- After a couple times of doing that though, the hellhound starts to sense his presence

- Finally his s/o is straight up like “I don’t know how you’re here Illuso, but I know you’re here. Come out and maybe we can get a little alone time together 😉”

- He comes out of the mirror and honestly they’re more shocked than he was when he learned they were a witch

- But they’re also incredibly intrigued and would probably want to try and go into the mirror world. Think of all the information they could gather on people they want to hex

- The two of them are a mischevious, trouble-making couple and fit together almost a little too perfectly

- Like Formaggio I think with a little encouragement I think he would be willing to be a test subject for his s/o

- Unlike Formaggio he loves the hellhound. He really wants to see it in action.

Prosciutto

- Okay first boy not interested in the asethetic at first

- I imagine witchy approached him first. There was something about him they really liked - that intense, cold expression in his eyes, they could tell what he did as his job from a glance

- Prosciutto agreed to go on a date with them to determine if they were a threat to Passione - most importantly, his team - that needed to be taken out or if they were harmless

- Halfway through the date Prosciutto is thinking they’re dangerous and he’ll have to kill them so he brings out his Stand but as he does the hellhound appears from the shadows and growls at him for threatening its master. Witchy sighs and explains to him that they’re a witch. I don’t think they’d necessarily be hiding it, just that they know most people would probably be freaked out by it

- Prosciutto is intrigued and continues to go on dates with them. Next thing he realizes is he’s in love.

- Did they slip him a potion? He’ll never know

- Prosciutto is extremely protective of his s/o. He worries that if anyone finds out they’re a witch they’ll be attacked by a mob or something.

- For that reason he and the hellhound get along pretty well. They’re both interested in protecting his s/o

- The hellhound still likes Pesci the most though

Melone

- Okay back to boys who were drawn in by the asethetic, except it’s like 1000x worse than the others for Melone

- At first he thinks it’s like, oh they’d make a great host for Babyface. Then he realizes no, he’s like really attracted to them himself, not because of his Stand

- Melone has a weird taste in like science and experimentation, I think his s/o would be pretty comfortable early on in the relationship telling him they’re a witch

- He is the most enthusiastic about being used as his s/o’s guinea pig. Honestly probably gets a little turned on by it.

- Not the biggest fan of the hellhound, but they respect one another’s place in his s/o’s life

- Because the thing his Stand creates is a homunculus, I think his s/o would also be very interested in his abilities as well

- The two of them are just experimenting left and right, helping one another as they push the limits on their abilities. It’s like putting two mad scientists together. Eventually they’re gonna create a monster thats unstoppable lol

Ghiaccio

- Another one I think witchy would approach first, similar to Prosciutto because they can see the eyes of a killer in him, but also because he’s just pure rage. It intrigued them

- Ghiaccio likes them because they don’t tell him to shut up and they just let him fully rage and destroy things, watching him the whole time and comforting him when he needs it

- The hellhound likes him too. Ghiaccio’s anger is very familiar to his demonic roots

- He’s probably not going to find out for a while that they’re a witch. It’s not that his s/o didn’t feel comfortable telling him, it’s just that there wasn’t really a good way to bring it up.

- Honestly they probably witness him use White Album first, and think he’s also a witch, and that’s how he finds out

- Ghiaccio is a little freaked out at first honestly. He didn’t know witches could exist. He’s also a little peeved they didn’t tell him and they again, observe him as he has another freak out

- Witchy admits they really loves how angry he gets, feels the power behind it, and wishes they had a way to harness it

- I don’t think Ghiaccio would be a guinea pig with any incentive, but he might offer to let them try and figure out a way to take the raw energy of his fury and channel it into their spells

- They’re an odd pair, but his s/o is so calm and collected that they balance out his explosive temper

[fe-th-trash]

uh...hi

so like I’ve never done this before, but I desperately needed a creative outlet while doing my final papers and between playing FE:TH and listening to my playlist instead of studying, I got hit with an idea that’s been plaguing me for days, so please enjoy this likely awful first attempt at this if you’re reading this I’m sorry thank you! WC: 1600ish

CW: Pre & Post Time-Skip, Azure Moon potential spoilers, lil angst, lil cuteness

The sights and sounds of the training room were of the few things that time hadn’t run away with. It’d been five years, five long, painful, years with the Imperial Army wreaking havoc on any land beneath its feet. Countless civilian and soldier lives had been lost and for what? All in the hopes of--

“Oof!” You manage, a strike while you were taking in your surroundings sending you to the floor. “Ugh. I yield.” “You’re distracted.” Felix concludes fairly easily, looking down at you, “That was a terrible hit. I was testing you, you failed.” “Okay, okay. I get it. Maybe a little. I’m sorry.” You sigh, rising and dusting yourself off. “I just...Being here again...I didn’t think it was going to feel this strange.” 

He forces air out of his nose audibly, shaking his head, “If you’re dwelling hard enough to let me land a hit like that, you’re going to get yourself killed on the battlefield. Reminisce all you want, some of us are here to prepare for what’s to come. Get yourself together. If you die...I’ll be annoyed.” He remarks, rolling his eyes as he turns, heading towards a training dummy that would undoubtedly be more of a fight than you were. If nothing else had remained, this was still the same Felix, that much is certain. 

The same bitter, broken, boy he’d been for nearly a decade. It was almost refreshing that he’d stayed the same. One familiar tongue in cheek remark and the upward turning of his eyes and it’s as though you’re both 17 again, more worried about the Professor’s overloaded tactics lectures and class exams than...well, a war raging on beyond the confines of what used to feel so safe. Of what, despite its dilapidated and decaying structure, still somehow felt safe. After everything it had so clearly been through, it was still standing, and that had to be a sign.

You didn’t know if it was being here again, or being surrounded by familiar faces for the first time in years that was keeping your chest warm, but you sincerely hoped the others were feeling it too. For the first time in so long, despite the current state of ruin that had fallen on Garreg Mach, the fragility of the surrounding circumstances, the rabid bloodlust that had overtaken Dimitri, the uncertainty of what the next few months would hold...

At long last, you could feel it. Something you thought was lost long ago.

Hope.

You consciously tried to remember a time before the war as you took your leave of the training grounds and walked toward the corridor of classrooms. Felix was right, it was useless to train if your mind was otherwise occupied. It was a miracle they were still mostly intact, and you found yourself picturing your Academy days, drifting into a daydream as the sound of your shoes on the cobblestones drifted gently away, replaced by the sounds of a bustling courtyard. 

Remembering your first day as a Blue Lion was an easy feat as you took the seat that used to be yours, in the very back of the room, where the professor would often catch you reading instead of listening to their lectures. It was one of those days, where you felt it necessary to do anything but pay attention that you’d find where you belonged, in of all places, detention.

Quietly scrubbing the blackboard thanks to your indiscretions, joined by Sylvain, who had pestered Felix into “accidentally” knocking an inkwell all over him, his desk, and the floor, Felix, who refused to apologize for the action, and Ingrid, peacefully standing in the doorway of the classroom, experiencing great joy at the hands of the two of them. Sylvain, who was meant to be mopping the floor, kept finding “missed spots” conveniently where Felix was working at cleaning the desks, knocking into him with the handle as he’d pass by and further annoying him, Ingrid suppressing her urge to both laugh at the action and scold each of them for being a nuisance to the other. It wasn’t long before Felix had stolen the mop from him and backed him up against the wall, Sylvain both smiling playfully as he looks down at him and holding his hands up, Ingrid shaking her head, bringing you into the world they’d created for themselves, “You’re free to crack either of them over the head with the broom in the closet if they get to be too much. I won’t tell the Professor.” “Tempting as that may be...” You joke, turning to watch along with her, drying your hands with one of the rags. “They are fairly entertaining.” “Don’t encourage them.” She warns, laughing a little as Sylvain sighs heavily,  “Alright, alright. Enough. You can’t kill me with the ladies watching, especially not with such a blunt object.”

“Watch me.” Felix grumbles, shoving the handle into his chest with a thud and storming back to put the supplies away, Sylvain sporting a pout and rubbing where it’d hit, “Too far...noted.” He mutters, heading for the assist with extreme caution, leaving you to crack a smile as you take the dirty water out to the bushes, Ingrid assisting despite not being in trouble. “Sorry about them.” “Don’t worry, I find them entertaining. I look forward to the day Felix has finally had enough.” “That...is not a day I’d like to imagine. Planning Sylvain’s funeral won’t be fun, especially when a body can’t be found.” She jokes, the both of you laughing as you head back to the classroom, “Hey, are you two ready to quit quarrelling? They’re going to start serving dinner any minute!” “I never wanted to start. Goddess sake.” 

Ingrid went on to invite you to dine with the three of them, something that greatly pleased Sylvain while simultaneously displeasing Felix. If there was anything he hated more than Sylvain’s antics, it was being forced to socialize, especially with people he didn’t already know. He’d chosen civility as a basis, but your disregard of Sylvain’s advances, and the fact you made Ingrid happy, quickly changed his mind. You didn’t know when exactly he’d started considering you a friend, but somewhere between the first time he’d called you a fool out of annoyance and long nights in the library studying by candlelight, you assumed he enjoyed your company, even if he’d never say as much.

“How did I know I’d find you here?” came his voice, startling you out of the depths of your mind. You hadn’t noticed the tears on your cheeks, brought on by days that would never happen again, until you turned toward the sound, him standing in the doorway, softening slightly when he saw the state of you. “I don’t know why you insist on torturing yourself.” he continues, heading inside the classroom, hesitating slightly as he passed his old desk. 

“Fe...” You manage, wiping at your face, “It ended so...suddenly. Everything changed so fast. I just want...something to hold onto. You have to know what that’s like.” You attempt, looking over at him once again, him reluctantly levelling with you, sitting in the seat beside and looking across at the blackboard. “I do. And thinking of everything we didn’t get to do will only cause you pain. It’s foolish to sit here and think “what if” when there’s a war going on. If we are going to win, we need to keep our minds clear.” He says, looking to you. “After we’ve won, I’ll sit in the cathedral and help you light as many candles as you see fit. But for now...” he trails, rising once again, “...let me walk you back to your room. It’s dark out.” 

You agreed with no words, rising and pushing your chair in like you’d done a thousand other times and taking his hand as he led you off into the night, holding on tightly. If this was yet another dream, you weren’t letting him go that easily. 

Knowing you were in need of comfort, and not realizing just how much of his own was needed, he allowed this to continue all the way to your door, dropping your hand and turning toward you, your better judgment leaving you as you stepped forward, wrapping your arms around him. 

The following few seconds were quiet as he was tense, his arms eventually finding their place around you. It wasn’t the first time, nor the first willing time, but likely the most necessary time for both of you. And in a few seconds more, it was over. He pulls himself away, clearing his throat. “Sleep off the rest of your nonsense...save it for later.” “You sleep too...if anyone tells me you went back to the training grounds after this...”

“Tch.”

“Exactly my point. Please rest yourself.” You found yourself near pleading. The deaths of those you didn’t know weighed so heavily, you didn’t want to imagine what losing someone so dear would mean. He merely shakes his head a little in response, turning to leave, “As you wish. Goodnight.” 

 “...Fe?”  He sighs, turning back toward you, “What? Need a bedtime story too?” “Do...you really think we’re going to win this?” You question, playing with your hands, unsure if you wanted an answer or just another minute of company as a gently and uniquely sly expression takes hold of him, his arms folding at his chest.

“Do you really think with the four of us together again, there’s any chance we’d lose?” He questions back, the warmth in you returning, that hopeful, optimistic feeling taking you over once again. “Of course not...goodnight Fe...thank you.”

“That’s what I thought. Enough of the foolishness...and get inside. Catching cold also does us no favors.” He says, an irritated tone that you knew by now was code for worry overtaking his voice, leaving you to smile and enter your room, gearing up to face the next day ready for what it throws at you.

All the while, Felix waits idly by to hear the clicking of the lock, the guarantee of your safety, before taking himself back to his own room, gently reminding himself of the pledge for “blades, blood, and battle” he’d made long ago, there being no time for anything but, no matter how it felt to finally hold your hand.

[pixelatedrose]

read this and respond (if you’d like) when you aren’t in the car anymore, i don’t want you to get sick :0 !

you don’t apologize for not be able to write a lot! you didn’t have to answer my ask in the first place but it means a lot to me that you did :) also! i wanna say two things! one, i think i’ve said this before but i really like how you explain things. i’ve tried to learn how to play d&d and i think i’ve got a solid understanding of it, but it’s still hard when people say things like “10 AC”. but i don’t have to worry about that when you explain things cause you sorta dumb it down in a way that doesn’t make me feel dumb.. if that makes sense. two, i love how you showed callahan being healed in your drawing cause it just adds so much more weight to the picture. and i can’t even imagine how that fight was, dancing with death the whole time, that must’ve been so stressful. anyway! that’s about all, but you still have a lot of explaining to do (if you want and when you’re ready) mister >:0 i hope you had a lovely day and you enjoy the rest of your night, love you ro :)) !

1st: dw bout me answerin asks in the car lol I have no fuckin self control sksjshs

2nd: thank you sm m8!!! I know you've mentioned in the past that you don't play d&d or know a ton about it so I try and give little explanations where I can and it's great to hear that I do it in a non-patronizing way

3rd: heheheee okay so imma go into some more detail on the Callahan & Shade training session-

Okay, so.

To understand how we got to this point in time, we have to understand where he was

The party entered the Shadowfell- a mirror plane of existence where everything is contorted and dark and just about everything wants to kill you. This is where we were trying to get to when Callahan first joined the party.

Now Callahan didn't have a full grasp on what the Shadowfell was, really, when he went through the portal. The only one who did was Sylas, and by all the gods did he try to warn us.

Callahan was still so very very unprepared...

The very first fight in the Fell- one of the first battles Callahan has EVER been in in his life- he gets one-shotted by this monster and drops below zero hp.

When you drop below zero hp in d&d, you're Ina state of in between life and death, right on the cusp of either one and a breath's wrong move could send you toppling over the edge. You stay in this state of dying until one of three things happen. 1) you get healed. 2) you succeed three death saves and you stabilize. Or 3) you fail three death saves and you die.

Callahan had succeeded two saves, but he had also failed two. One last roll would have determined his entire fate, and I'm not known for having the best of luck when it comes to dice.

Sylas, our lovely amazing wonderful cleric boy, barely made it in time and slapped Callahan with a healing spell right after the monster died and he regained consciousness.

This...messed him up.

Callahan was absolutely shaken to his core at this very close encounter with death and he did not handle it well.

He got furiously angry, ignoring the fact that it was him that brought him to the Fell, and instead shifting the rage to the rest of the party and blaming them for his being there and, by proxy, his almost dying.

He...said some things...that shouldn't have been said. At least not like that...

And the worst part? It didn't get better. He was fitful and angry and upset at everyone for weeks.

Finally, Haru was done with Callahan's baby-bitchfit and when Callahan snapped at Monty (again), Haru got up and dragged Callahan out into the forest a little ways away from the rest of the party.

And what did he do?

Well he punched him.

Well, more than that. He told Callahan to fight back too. Soon fist-fighting turned into hitting each other with sticks, which turned into Haru having to tackle Callahan to the ground, leaving Cal the perfect opportunity to steal the dagger off his belt and ramming the pommel into his ribs.

Cal would like to say he won that fight. Haru would have something else to say.

After laying there on the ground for a moment, Callahan started to laugh. A sound that Haru had not heard in weeks, and one he didn't know he missed.

Haru explained that he wanted to teach Cal to fight so that what happened with that first monster? Where Cal nearly died?? So that that would never have to happen again.

Something about it- maybe it was something about Haru- calmed Callahan down.

And then it really hit him.

Oh fuck.

I've been a jackass for weeks to literally everyone.

It also started to hit him just how weak he really was in a fight if it ever came down to melee.

So they came back to the party together, Callahan happier than ever with little scrapes and lookin very roughed up (I won't say but the rest of the party did not in fact think they were sparring-)

Callahan apologized to Monty the next morning. The things he said specifically to him were...well...let's just say it hit harder for Monty than the others.

Monty wasn't as quick to forgive and forget. Callahan doesn't blame him.

However, that night Callahan and this new party member- Shade- were on a watch together. Now Shade is a much higher level than everyone else in the party, and is far far more powerful. He's a Hexblade Warlock, but he's also a fallen paladin (or cleric I can't remember) as WELL as a fallen Aasimar (kinda like a fallen angel but watered down). But...also probably a Shadow sorcerer?? Listen Shade is an amalgam of magic and power and idk where all of it comes from-

In any case, Shade is big powerful lad.

Now Cal and Shade are on a watch together, and Shade begins talking about Callahan's magic. He picks up a small opal stone from gauntlets he wears and focuses his magic into it. The opal glows with a black light and swirls with shadows of purple and black. He then hands the opal to Callahan and instructs him to focus his magic like he did.

When he does, the opal changes again, but this time, it swirls with bright, ever-changing array of fantastical colors. A rainbow of things that have never quite been seen before. It's extraordinary.

Shade explains that his own magic is that of the Shadowfell, it's dark and thus his magic is sewn from the shade. And then he explains that he's met other mages- ones with powers of the storm, magic of dragons- but he has never seen someone with magic like Callahan's.

Why?

Well, cause Callahan has pure, unfettered, untained, raw magic inside him.

It's an inferno of unbridled magic and it is completely and utterly entirely untamed. It cannot be controlled and it is as wild as the wind and earth itself. And sometimes, that uncontrollablity lashes out and surges forth, and sometimes things that Callahan doesn't exactly want to happen, happen.

And Callahan listens. And his heart sinks. Uncontrollable? Pure?? Absolute chaotic force of magic??? He can't stand the thought of not having a handle on his magic, because if he can't control it, how the hell is he supposed to use it to protect people??

He expresses this to Shade and the "older" man tells him that he can and should use this to his advantage.

At that moment, Callahan's magic goes wild and he surges. The wooden log they are sitting on, under Callahan's hand it starts to faintly smoke. Callahan doesn't notice, but Shade does. He cuts a small piece of rope and asks Cal to hold it for him. The rope errupts into flames and Callahan drops it in vibrant shock and distress.

Shade calms him down and explains that he can use that. He gets Callahan thinking. Asks how he can use this to help in in battle- he can set things aflame with a touch, for God's sake, what can he do to use that?

And Shade looks at Callahan's small scratches and bruises and scuffs on his clothes and turns and says "I know that look...you've been sparring, haven't you?"

Callahan nods his head. He says that Haru said he'd teach him how to fight, that he wants to- needs to- be stronger.

Shade asks if Callahan would like Shade to help him as well, help him learn how to use his magic to fight.

Callahan says yes.

They start small, Shade borrows Haru's sword in his sleep and gives it to Cal to use. Shade goes through the motions of explaining how he uses his magic to help him wear armor and wield weapons- how he manipulates the pull of power inside him into his blade, into his armor, how he makes them seem lighter and easier to use and wear.

And Callahan follows suit. He goes through the motions of swordplay, focusing and directing his magic into it. And slowly, it seems the blade gets lighter and light in his palm.

After a little while of this, Shade says that he would like to try something to really help Cal in the middle of a real battle. And he summons a demon.

Now, as Shade summons this demon, he explains that he has control over it. That the demon cannot do anything that Shade does not want it to do. The demon is not pleased with this.

In fact, with shadowy chains around its neck and wrists and ankles, it seethes and hisses and spits that it will tear and murder and shred Callahan and Shade to scraps. Shade reassures Callahan that he won't let it kill him. But he asks one last time if Callahan wants to do this.

And with a glance at this horrible creature with blood and murder in its eyes, Callahan's grasp tightens around his borrowed blade and he nods yes.

And so the fight begins.

Callahan uses his magic and filters it into the blade in his hands and tries to strike the beast. He hits it a few times, but the monster keeps hitting Callahan back, and he drops down to 1 hp.

As the demon cackles and pulls back for one final attack, Shade pulls down on the shadowy chains and restrains it. It howls in fury at this.

Shade asks Callahan if he wants to stop, that if he really wants, Shade knows a way to help Callahan keep going.

Callahan, bloody, sliced up, fighting for consciousness and blinking red drops from his eyes, hands on his sword in a white-knuckled grip, the blade digging into the ground as the only thing keeping him upright, looks Shade deep and deadly in the eyes, his goggles hung slightly cracked around his neck. His eyes have a burning flicker to them and with no hesitation to his words, he speaks. "I need to be better."

Shade takes a moment and the faintest ghost of a smile flitters onto his face and he says "That was the right answer." And he begins to heal Callahan with Greater Restoration.

Now, I could be wrong either with what the spell does or what spell he actually cast, but what happened with this spell was this: he could restore an incredible amount of hp to Callahan, but he would TAKE half the hp he restored as damage to himself. So if he healed Cal for 10 points, Shade would take 5.

This first time he ended up healing Callahan all the way back up to full.

And back to the fight they went.

This happened four more times, where Cal dropped below 10 hp and Shade had to stop to heal him for a moment.

Finally, Shade asked Callahan one last thing.

"I can do one more thing to help you learn the movement of battle, but it would mean releasing him. You don't have to do it, but-"

"You're wrong. I do have to- what would that make me if I backed down at the first sight of risk?"

"...you've made a good choice."

With that, Shade released the Demon, who was battered and torn and nearly as destroyed as Callahan himself, if not far far more. And he let out a ravenous cackle, full of craze and bloodlust and victory. And he looked Callahan directly in the eyes and told him "This is where you die!!!"

Four more rounds.

Callahan had messed up his magic once before in the fight and his magic had surged, giving him the ability to teleport short distances for the next minute.

And his magic messed up once again, poisoning a random creature near him. Luckily, it wasn't Shade, but the Demon was immune to poison anyway.

But as Callahan took hits, he dropped below 10 hp again, but there was no more looking to Shade for help anymore.

He took one last swing, a move of the blade that felt more dance-like than any sort of movement to kill, and he cut the demon clean a sunder- a trail of the blade that ran from one shoulder across to the bottom of its boney hip- and the demon let out a croaking, creaking, collapsing gasp of air that could have been mistaken for a strangled last cackle of defiance.

And then it fell over, a position of defeat that Callahan may have been had he not made the surer move.

And Callahan stood above it all.

Alive.

Alive and by his hands alone was his enemy gone.

Alive and by a blade he used with magic in his veins was he that way.

Alive and the victor over a demon.

Shade healed Callahan one last time, nearly collapsing himself from the loss of life energy. He managed to gain some of it back by summoning small imps that he then proceeded to suck the life out of, but it still took a bit of a toll on both of them.

They went back to the party where everyone lay sleeping, none knowing the exchange that had happened that night.

The spoke for a while longer, Shade telling Callahan of his past while casting the mending spell on his destroyed and torn clothes.

Their shift ended and they woke up the next pair for watch and went to bed.

And now did Callahan forget to tell anyone else about what had happened?

Yes absolutely.

Did Haru end up finding out because 1) Callahan had a fresh magical scar on his cheek and 2) Callahan forgot to give Haru back his sword?

Yes absolutely.

Was Haru pissed off that Callahan basically almost died multiple times and go into full protective boyfriend mode after he found out?

Yes absolutely.

Anyway long story time but I hope you liked it ;D

[perriewinklenerdie]

Heat in the rain (Ethan Ramsey x MC)

Open Heart, Ethan Ramsey x MC

A/N:  Hello, hello, hello! How is everyone? I hope that we are all kicking ass and enduring it as best as we can. It's AU time again (can be read as a regular fic though). I got carried away (as I usually do) and this got so long that I had to chop it in half. This is part 1, part 2 will be out later this week I hope.

AO3 link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23863984

Tag list:   @paleweasels, @hopelessromantic1352, @kittykatchoices, @valiantlychaoticbarbarian , @radlovedreamer , @usuallyamazinglyaverage, @strawberrwess @palestazure, @cordoniaqueensworld, @universallypizzataco, @princess-geek, @faithhasnowords, @mightyfangirlofthefandoms, @drakewalkerfantasy, @timmagicktoad, @laceandlula, @greywitchyshots, @llamasgrl, @gingerjane15, @bucket-harrington , @marywrites-things , @ethanplaysfavorites , @mfackenthal , @betelgeusebee , @simsvetements,  @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction, @buzz-bee-buzz, @owleyes374, @cora-nova, @aworldoffandoms, @l822, @cream-ray, @ughhhxjazzy, @silverlitskies, @justendlesssummerfeels, @togetherwearerapture, @desmaranj, @edgiestwinter, @friedherringclodthing, @daisy-ashton, @waytooattuned, @choicesgremlin , @lapisreviewsstuff, @the-soot-sprite, @writerapprentice, @chasingrobbie, @choicesobsessedd, @x-kyne-x, @thisperfectmemory, @drakewalker04, @rookie-ramsey, @jlynn12273, @thepinknymph @dr-brianna-casey-valentine, @a-i-n-a-a-s-h Enjoy! <3

---------------

„Mom, calm down, we’ll be home in an hour at most.” A heavy sigh escaped her lips, her fingers wrapped tightly around her phone. The commotion happening next to her was making her head spin, shouts and raised voices enhancing the shallow feel in her chest. Her mother’s voice rang in her ear as she tried to explain to her that she couldn’t exactly hurry the plane up and that as soon as it touched down, they got to the waiting area waiting for the suitcases to be available, so they could pick them up, and get home, just in time for dinner.

They’ve been dating for what felt like forever, and Ethan has met her family, piece by piece. They adored him. While at first, he was nervous, so nervous in fact that his hands were shaking and his heart was racing, the moment he exchanged two sentenced with her parents, he was pulled into the Herondale family with a warm welcome. His relationship with his own family was complicated, so the openness and honesty of her family was like taking a breath of fresh air, an entirely different world.  

It’s the middle of February when she makes the decision to travel all the way back to England to visit her parents. Just a couple of days before her birthday, and stay there until March, with her classes being over and her exams all passed.

Ethan encouraged her to let herself take it easy for just a moment, to stop and look at the world for what it was. She turned around to look at him, tearing her eyes away from the picture she was observing, the walls of the museum surrounding them from all the sides. Her eyebrow strikes up slightly in amusement and her lips curl in a cunning grin as she took a slow step towards him, looking up at him.

“Are you that eager to get rid of me?” she whispered, looking at his lips intensely before averting her eyes to make their gazes meet. His pupils dilated at her words, first in shock, and then, upon registering her actions, in a spark of unexpected desire.

“Me? Never.” he embraced her, pulling her up slightly to leave a kiss on her lips. One touch of his was able to reduce her into a mess that was impossibly hard to reassemble, and complete with that infuriating smirk of his that told her that he was planning something, there was just no way not to believe every word he was saying. “Your Mom misses you, so does your Dad, and I’m sure Will would love to have his sister back.”

“Did you let him convince you to make me go back home so he could have someone to argue with again?” she asked, her voice full of suspicion, noticing how a shadow passed his face. “I knew it! You really want to get rid of me.”

“I don’t, but your parents said that they would like to have you home for your birthday.” Draping his arm over her shoulder, he pulled her to his side, kissing her forehead, the soft touch lingering for just a moment.

“But what if I want you with me for my birthday?”

“I already talked to Harper. She said that if you agreed to go and visit your parents, I can get the last week of February off, so I can join you and your family in England. Spend some time with them, celebrate with you…” his voice trailed off, the tips of his fingers outlining the side of her arm.

“I am so impressed with the level of preparation that went into that little plan of yours. Okay, fine, I’ll go.” Claire muttered under her breath, allowing him to pull her into a tight embrace, knowing that there must have been more to the story.

By the time she arrived at her parents’ house, she managed to forget what that story could have been. Far too ecstatic about finally seeing her family, after so much time away, she let it go, brushing it off as something that most likely was just a passing feeling.

Not much has changed. Her room was still her room, just like she left it before she flew all across the ocean to work alongside Ethan. Her walls were covered with books and music sheets, the piano still stood proudly on the far end of the room and her bed was still covered by that horrendous blanket from the time when she decided that she would make her own. In retrospective, it was not the worst experience of her life, and looking at the blanket now, it could have been much worse, but to say it was great would be an overstatement.

Keeping in mind that Ethan would arrive in the next couple of days, a thought of getting rid of all the embarrassing stuff crossed her mind once or twice, but as quickly as it entered her field of vision, it was thrown out by her just as fast. He let her see his personal space that one time when his parents invited them both for dinner, and while his cheeks reddened, she couldn’t have asked for a better inside view of what made him the man he was now. To take that opportunity away from him would be a crime.

An itch in the back of her mind began to appear more and more the closer his arrival date was. An evening before, she got out all the art materials she owned, grinning wickedly. If it was anybody else, she probably wouldn’t put so much effort into welcoming them, but it was Ethan. And she liked being overly excessive with him, even if just to tease him. His reactions were so predictable to her at that point that she could almost see the blush that would color his cheeks the moment he saw her. It’s been almost a week, and while he did get her a proper sendoff, she couldn’t wait to see his face, to be back in his arms.

Now, standing in the crowded room, surrounded by all the people that wait for their loved ones, that embark on new adventures, she felt a familiar tingle run down her back. It felt cliché, to get ‘butterflies’ at the mere thought of him, and she was sure that he would laugh and taunt her with it, but she just couldn’t help herself. She could argue that she loved him, most probably would tell him that ‘she’s not going to apologize for getting lost in him when she knew damn well he did that with her too’ and then attack him with kisses until they were out of breath. She knew he would not complain, he never did.

Ethan took a deep breath as he took the last step down the stairs, walking out of the plane. The air was different than in Boston, almost lighter, but he most likely was biased. The quality of air had nothing to do with any natural reasons, nothing to do with cars and pollution or the proximity to the water.

It was her, and only her. And he knew it damn well.

His jacket did a poor job at protecting him from the biting cold that tore itself underneath the thin fabric of his shirt, brushing over the skin of his abdomen. It felt like a thousand needles of ice, pricking his skin every time he moved, and he was ready to get inside. Not because it was warm in there, but because every room he crossed, every meter he encountered, brought him closer to Claire. And he couldn’t wait.

The baggage claim couldn’t take any longer. Every other time he flew on the plane, it was frustrating, but this time, it was seemingly worse. Restlessness made his muscles ache, made his skin crawl, caused him to walk back and forth.

He could still remember, very vividly, the times in which upon seeing a man act the exact same way he was behaving now, his mind would be swarmed with thoughts of how impatient the man was and how ridiculous he looked. Now he understood, more than he ever thought would be possible, that it was nearly impossible to sit still, because every cell in his body told him to go.

The amount of people in the waiting area was giving him a headache. He was never good with crowds, any person working with him knew how much he hated crowds, so the sea of people he saw before him was too much. Most of them were standing or sitting, and there were a couple of people holding the cards with names written on it. One card stood out from the rest, at the very end of the line. Blue and green glitter, hearts and flowers, handwritten in a neat style.

Your pancakes suck

The card covered the face of the person holding it, until it moved down, revealing the very smug Claire, her lips curled in a satisfied smirk. He moved towards her, his suitcase behind him, walking fast, but never fast enough. She threw the card aside, meeting him halfway. Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, her face buried in the juncture between his neck and shoulder. Her chest moved as she took a deep breath, his scent so familiar to her now, calming her raging senses and emotions. His hold on her was tight and firm, just as she remembered it to be, one hand pressing her against him. He ran his fingers through her hair, closing his eyes, taking a moment to register that it was not one of many dreams he’s had this past week and that she was actually there, in his arms.

“You’re proud of yourself, aren’t you?” he muttered into her ear, his tone making it sound like a statement more than a question, and the warm breath that brushed against his skin was the only confirmation he needed.

“I was looking for that blush of yours. It’s a myth, a legend, and I just really like proving you wrong.”

He was about to retaliate, when he felt two points of contact, pressing sharply into his sides. A gasp of shock escaped his lips as he jerked away from her, his eyes wide. Claire grinned, winking at him playfully, then took a slow step towards him, brushing his cheek with the back of her fingers.

“I missed you.” she whispered, pulling him down for a tender kiss, so warm it made a hot shiver run down his back. He felt electricity tingling in the tips of his fingers, sparks so tangible he got worried she would feel it when he touched her waist. Nothing could keep him away from her at that moment, not hundreds of people around them, not endless amounts of announcements flowing from their speakers, not the bright lights above their heads. Nothing.

Their walk to the car would have been a whole lot slower if it wasn’t for the downpour that fell from the sky. She pulled on his hand, laughing breathlessly as rain soaked their clothes and hair, making the strands stick to their faces. They threw his suitcase into the back of the car and stumbled inside, turning the heating up to full power. She sent a text to her Mom that they would be a bit later than she previously thought due to the rain, and then pulled out of the parking lot.

“How was your flight?” she asked, taking a careful turn left, turning the radio on and turning the music down so they could talk.

“There was some turbulence, but other than that, it was just a plain, long flight.” he sighed heavily, reclining in his seat so he could look at her without straining his neck. She glanced at him every now and then, her eyes sparkling brightly.

The rain drummed against the outer surface of the car, muffling the sound of music and her humming. She could feel his gaze on her, a flash of heat, pressing against the line between her neck and cheek. The situation on the road got significantly worse and it made her unable to look over to him, so she had no way of knowing that he has leaned so close to her. The first sign of him being close was his breath, making goosebumps rise on her skin. She took a shaky breath, the tension palpable in the air.

“Are you nervous?” he muttered against the slope of her neck, pressing his lips to her pulse point and sucking gently, stealing the last of air she had in her lungs. The back of his fingers brushed her hair back, exposing her shoulder to his ministrations.

“Try ‘excited’.” She panted, her grip on the steering wheel tightening, her knuckles turning pale. He gave her a laugh, a deep rumble that made his chest tremble. His teeth grazed her flesh vaguely, a tease that made her blood run faster in her veins, heading towards her cheeks. She bit her lip, fighting the urge to close her eyes and let him do whatever he wanted to her. He aimed his kisses upwards until he reached her ear, breathing heavily.

“Pull over.”

“What?” she stammered, her green irises darkening significantly, even though he had no way of seeing it.

“Pull over, Claire.”

He spoke clearly, confidently, and his voice was filled to the brim with want. She looked in the rearview mirror, checking to see if anyone was driving behind them before taking a sharp turn left, coming to a stop and turning the lights off. She half expected him to pull her to him right away, but when she turned to him, his eyes were trained on her, focusing on one thing at a time. From her soaked clothes, clinging to her body, outlining her curves, to her hair, stuck to her face in soft curls.

Next thing she knew, he was all over her, pressing their lips together with an impatient growl. He grabbed her hips, his height allowing him to tower over her as she sunk into her seat, grabbing fistfuls of his hair and pulling him against her. They kissed with abandonment, so lost in each other that the rest of the world began to melt away.

He bit her lip, pulling on it with a low hum while his hand reached for the lock of her seatbelt, undoing it and flinging the restraining stripe of material away from her body. His palm run over the side of her body in great haste, reacquainting himself with her again, before his hand dove between her legs, grabbing the handle beneath her seat and pulling it, sending her backwards, making room for him to pick her up and pull her to him.

She straddled him, gripping his shoulders to settle herself against him. His arms went around her, pressing them together, causing a choked moan to escape his lips. Her knees pressed into his thighs, her fingers digging into his shoulder blades as he assaulted her neck, biting and sucking on her skin until it turned pink.

“It’s very rude to display such affections in public, Mr. Ramsey.” She breathed heavily, grinning as she put every last bit of her energy into channeling her British accent. He laughed shortly, leaning back to look into her eyes, nudging her nose with his.

“It’s rude to keep me away from you, Ms. Herondale. I can’t be held accountable for all the ungentlemanly things I’m about to do to you.” he whispered, trailing off as he leaned into her again, pecking her lips teasingly a couple of times.

“You never were a gentleman in the first place.”

Ethan shook his head at her comment, grabbing the back of her head and pulling her back into him, kissing her again and again, his other hand running all over her body. She gripped the lapels of his jacket, using the newly found leverage to grind herself against him, eliciting a low growl that escaped his lips.

It was her turn to reach behind him, pushing the button that reclined the back of his seat, causing them both to stumble backwards. His hands flew to her backside, pressing her downwards as his hips moved upwards, a string of muttered curses falling from her lips in broken accent.

“Claire-“ he started saying, his tone warning her that he would lose control any second now, when an obnoxiously loud sound of her phone ringing blasted from the speakers of her car. He groaned, falling back against the seat, covering his face with his arm as she giggled, kissing his cheek briefly before answering the call.

“Claire, are you two alright? The weather is getting worse and worse, do you need help?” her mother’s voice rang in the small space, filled with worry.

“We’re fine, Mom. Going a little slower since it’s so bloody difficult to maintain control…” she winked at Ethan, pressing a finger to her lips and his eyes widened as he realized her Mother could hear every little thing that happened inside of the car. “We’ll be home in about twenty minutes.”

“I’ll make some tea. Does Ethan like chocolate? I baked a cake.”

Claire had to bite her lip to keep herself from bursting out laughing before she answered. “He loves it.”

The call ended and his heavy sigh was the only thing that could be heard in the otherwise completely silent car. She kissed his cheek softly, then moved back to her seat, fixed its position and started the car back up. As it rolled back onto the road, she turned the music on the radio up. He rolled his eyes so loudly she could practically hear it, her laughter ringing in the air.

“That sure sounds familiar.” He muttered as a song from one of their first dates blasted from the speakers.

“Then you won’t mind if I sing along. For old times’ sake.”

[noonmutter]

Tottering

Everyone knows the first day is just the syllabus, anyway, right?

One of his wives had said that. He was pretty sure it was Pin, but Gods, he couldn’t remember. He was so tired. Leaving just after dawn like he had, he’d hoped to deal with introductions and some planning, and then have time for a nap.

But the first day had not, in fact, been the syllabus. The archdruids of the Dreamgrove had not gotten the memo about the syllabus. Leon felt this was terribly unfair.

They disagreed.

Strenuously.

After he had taken the time to explain why he’d felt it necessary to come back to the grove for guidance, and not simply ask for advice from home, his newest tutor had agreed with him that that was the right decision. It was about the only thing approximating a compliment that he received during daylight hours. The rest was a blur of dressing-down and critique that Leon struggled not to see as an attack. The kal’dorei fellow didn’t know him on a personal level, so it couldn’t be personal, and that was the mantra Leon had to recite to himself all day in order to endure.

He was required to prove he was not, in Master Cylan’s words, “completely remedial” before anyone could instruct him on the finer points of the Dream and walking it. He’d satisfied the master’s requirements for shifting between the forms quite easily, though not even the elf’s most stern hounding could convince him to take the stag form. They’d nearly come to blows over it before a tauren overseer intervened, but that had put a bit of a sour spin on an already frustrating morning.

Restoration magics were still not forthcoming to him, and the pitiful sparks he could summon under duress were the subject of much tutting and hemming from his tutor. He’d expected that, at least, so he minded it slightly less.

The same was true of calling upon the sun and the moon, though Cylan did acknowledge he at least had a passable grasp on moonfire, even if only while in the throes of rage. And then he’d told Leon he owed him a new pair of shoes, since Leon had burned them with it.

When night finally fell, Cylan was mercifully relieved, though to Leon’s (and, he suspected, Cylan’s) chagrin he was informed they would resume his tutelage together in the morning. In his place was a much more tolerable kal’dorei who introduced himself, rather than being introduced, as Bollad. Though Leon tried very hard to avoid making the specific comparison, the phrase ‘night and day’ did cross his mind several times while they conversed with one another. It became apparent why the two of them were able to address one another without butting heads together almost immediately: Bollad, like Leon, favored the feral disciplines and was to be his evaluator for the time being.

It had been made very clear that Leon was not in dire need of instruction, Bollad said, but of guidance, at least for now. When they knew just how well he could do what he did do well, they would be able to move forward.

And that was when the fun part stopped, and the work began, because Bollad too was a feral druid. Feral druids were not gentle pushovers; they were merely constantly measuring their emotional state, constantly refusing to give into rage and escalation, so that it might be channeled into a surgical strike when needed. Calling up that kind of bloodthirst at will required having the emotional reserves to do it; being a temperamental idiot all day was likened to being a horny teenager.

For Bollad, Leon was to hunt. But he wasn’t allowed to take the form they both favored, nor the worgen that would have helped even though Leon loathed it. He was to prove his understanding of his place in the cycle again, the way he’d had to do it the first time: he was to hunt by himself, with nothing but his senses and what he could find or make on his own. The closest Bollad came to teasing him was the comment, “I would also note no magic from the other disciplines, but as Cylan so loudly informed us all, that does not seem to be necessary.”

Though he was already worn from a day of little sleep and lots of embarrassment, running through the woods was as exhilarating as always, and it brought Leon the second wind he so desperately needed. He felt at home, though Val’Sharah’s trees were not his trees, and the grasses were not his grass, and the animals were not his animals. For a while, he simply ran, both to bring some peace to his overworked mind and to familiarize himself with the sounds in the leaves and the dirt under his feet, but Bollad scared the piss out of him at one point to remind him that he had a task to finish. Times like that reminded Leon just how big a druid’s bird form really was; the damn owl had exploded out of a bush and for a second he thought he was actually going to have to defend himself.

Dicking around came to an end after that. Allowing himself to settle into the reality that he did have something to prove, and unlike with Cylan, he actually wanted his new tutor’s approval, Leon got to work.

Bollad later told him he was pleased, but also that showing off was not necessary; there was no call for swiftness, only success, and Leon had downed a deer after about 45 minutes. Though he wouldn’t have been willing to do so in earshot of the others in the Grove, for Bollad he conceded that he hadn’t meant to show off, only to vent a great deal of stress and frustration. The last few months had been terribly unkind, even ignoring the world being wrong.

“But ah... if y’feel so inclined t’ tell th’others tha’ I did in fact show off...”

Bollad smirked. “I am not above bragging about my students, Initiate Ambroce.”

Leon liked Bollad.

He liked Bollad rather less when he ordered him not to sleep for more than four hours.

“But--”

“If you intend to journey into the Dream again, you will need to be receptive, in every possible way, to getting there.”

“Can’t I just--”

“If you cannot abide by this first simple instruction, and you intend to return to this grove fully rested on the morrow, then I advise you not return at all.”

“...kin y’at least point me in th’ direction o’ some decent coffee?”

“Bradensbrook seems like your best bet.”

Sigh. “On th’ morrow, shan’do.”

“Elune guide, thero’shan.”

I don’t even like coffee...

[fictionplumis]

themyrkness replied to your post “Listen.  I’ve discovered that I love Lambert with all my heart and I...”

Lamden! Aiden proves to be low maintenance. Just be prepared for him hunting monsters exclusively at night and how he tends to sleep on top of you. He is always perfectly clean and groomed despite hating baths.

Bless you. 

And while I absolutely agree that Aiden would mostly be low maintenance I just really love the idea of those Cat mutagens sometimes being Too Much, and most of the time it’s shit like being giddy and elated after a good fight and then emotionally dropping and being kind of withdrawn and despondent for a bit, but there are the rare times a nerve is sparked and one emotion spikes over the others in a way that’s too overwhelming to properly control. It’s something that Cats could use as an excuse to, oh I don’t know, slaughter an entire town that’s tried to jilt them out of coin? But Aiden is the good guy Lambert knows because he doesn’t use it as an excuse, he’s learned to manage it, to walk away from the Alderman no matter how bad he’s shaking with rage, to focus himself on being angry at something else, at anything, at the damn birds singing in the trees, at anything else until he’s far enough away from the town that he can take that energy out with a crossbow on the birds or go hunt down a bear or whatever. 

It’s easier with Lambert because Lambert understands being angry like that. Half the time he’s being an asshole is because he wants to provoke someone into a fight, wants some way to get that tense energy out of his system and there’s no better way than steel on steel, exertion of muscles, and the ache of it afterwards. Especially since he’s usually goading Geralt or Eskel during the winter, and they always kick his ass. 

So the first time Aiden whirls on him, shaking with anger over something that’s not Lambert but is currently going to be directed at Lambert, looking more feral and out of control than Lambert’s ever seen, and demands that they fight, Lambert gets it. 

He also understands why Geralt and Eskel always kick his ass when he’s like that, what with Aiden’s strikes lacking their usual thought and precision, just mindless, frustrated swings that hit hard enough to jar Lambert’s bones. Even then, Aiden isn’t out of control, per se. Maybe he catches Lambert off guard and manages to knock his sword away and there’s that brief moment of he’s gonna fucking kill me but Aiden tosses his sword away and takes to tackling Lambert to the ground and wrestling with him instead. It ends when Lambert tosses his head back and breaks Aiden’s nose, and he goes stumbling back to stare at Lambert with wide eyes, one hand trying to stem the flow of blood. Then tosses his head back and just laughs. Tired, wary, maybe even a little grateful as he mutters, “You broke my nose, you bastard.” 

“Am I supposed to fucking sorry about that?” 

“...No. Was a good hit.”

And when he tries to apologize later, to explain, Lambert grunts and waves it off because he gets it. So the one other time he sees it happen, Aiden doesn’t even have to pull himself away because Lambert is already grabbing him by the hair and yanking to get his attention. 

The one Lambert has a harder time dealing with is stuff like happiness and gratitude, when those things spike to an almost unbearable level for Aiden-- And usually those are directed at Lambert, caused by Lambert, which just makes it harder for him to deal with. Like maybe when Lambert goes through the effort of convincing Vesemir to make an except for one Cat. 

They always part at winter, meet up again in the spring, and Aiden does well for himself during the cold months, he knows how to survive, and he knows his history, what happened between the schools. The fact Lambert trusts him to watch his back is kind of a big deal. So he’s never asked about going to Kaer Morhen, already knows it’s not happening, because Lambert is loyal first and foremost to the Wolves, no matter how much he grumbles about them, no matter how angry they make him. That’s just how Lambert is. And bringing a Cat to their sanctuary, showing him the way there, it’s too big of a risk. Not that Lambert doesn’t trust him, but it would be a sort of betrayal to the others. 

But see, Lambert starts thinking eventually about Big Gestures. Because he kind of sucks at this whole hey I think I love you? thing. So he starts thinking about how other people show that without telling, but getting Aiden flowers feels very stupid, pointless, and underwhelming. Like what the hell would Aiden do with flowers anyway? They’d look nice in hair. For like a day, until they wilted. Dumb.

Maybe jewelry or something? Not an awful idea. He decides to keep an eye out and see if anything strikes his fancy.

But then he ends up overhearing a lovestruck maiden talking to her friends about how the blacksmith’s son the next town over wants her to come have dinner with his family and for some reason the story makes Lambert’s heart twist bitterly and he spends the rest of the night fuming to himself over the shit he thinks he can’t have. 

Until he removes his head from his ass and realizes he still can. 

So he goes through all this effort of heading to Kaer Morhen early, telling Aiden that he has some personal things to do elsewhere, might take him awhile, but he’ll absolutely meet up with Aiden in Novigrad around the middle of fall. And he goes to talk to Vesemir, and the conversation is, uh. Not great. Hardly ever is between them, but Vesemir eventually concedes enough that he’ll allow it, if and only if he goes to track down Geralt and Eskel first and they decide they’re alright with it. 

Those conversations also don’t go great but it’s not nearly as bad because for all their differences and annoyances, they all would die for each other, and Lambert may be a miserable prick who likes to pick fights, but they both know he would never do anything that would risk the safety of their pack. So they reluctantly allow it. 

And Lambert makes sure to make it clear to Aiden on their way up that it is very much a reluctant thing. They don’t trust him, it’s not gonna be a warm welcome, they probably won’t even be pleasant, expect some standoffish wolves and lots of distrust. But I mean, Aiden’s a Cat, so. When does he not deal with that from other witchers, even his own? 

It doesn’t fully hit him until he sees the keep, though. And then it’s like a sledgehammer to his chest, just how much Lambert trusts him. How big of a deal this is. For both of them, because there’s no way it was easy for Lambert to just invite someone home that might have been a potential risk of any kind. And it shows how much the other wolves must trust Lambert. Cats don’t trust each other, they don’t have that bond between members, it’s each one for themselves out there and hell, most of the time the biggest threat a Cat has is their school deciding to take them out for one reason or another if they think one has been doing something that might make them all look worse. Sacrifice the one for the all. And here he is, being invited to sit with them, these people who would do anything for each other, he’s being given a chance all because of Lambert. 

There’s not enough coin on the damn Continent to make him betray that. 

And for awhile the only thing he can do is clutch himself to Lambert, shaking like a leaf, so overwhelmed with gratitude and relief and love that he can only repeat Lambert’s name like a prayer and try to remember how to breathe. Poor Lambert is just awkwardly patting him on the back, hugging him and holding all like, “Uh, yeah. Yup. I know. It’s a lot. I’ve gotcha. You just... Take your time.” Because he doesn’t really get this side of things. Doesn’t know how to handle someone loving him so much, or him making someone this happy. When Aiden finally calms down enough to move he’s still shaking as he grabs Lambert’s face and kisses him, laughing damn near hysterically against his lips and he just can’t stop. 

Which is fine, in Lambert’s opinion, because he kind of loves this fucking maniac Cat, whether he fully understands Aiden or not. 

And of course Aiden’s a good guy and the others see it. By the end of winter they’re sparring together and swapping stories and everything’s great, but then the pass starts melting and Aiden starts getting a little withdrawn. It’s one of the other witchers that can’t sleep who sees him up one night, curled by the hearth in the main hall, wrapped in furs and staring blankly at the fire. 

Now Aiden’s been nothing but pleasant and easy to be around, so even though Lambert’s told all of them he’s a Cat, I won’t deny that, he’s batshit fucking insane, but he’s a good man, I mean he’s absolutely crazy but he’s the best person I’ve ever met-- They haven’t quite gotten a taste of that yet. 

Not until this one sits down to see what’s up with Aiden and Aiden spends a second staring into the fire before muttering, “I don’t want to leave,” in a quiet, wistful voice. And then, even quieter, “I think... If I could control the snow and keep that pass blocked off for the rest of my days, keep you all trapped here with me like this, I wouldn’t hesitate to do it.” 

And the other Wolf is just like okaaaaay well anyway, so long as you don’t go out there and tell every Cat how to get to Kaer Morhen, you’re free to come back with Lambert next year. 

They walk off shaking their head, deciding that as nice as Aiden seems to be, they’re just gonna let Lambert handle that one and not ask too many questions.

[theotherwolfinsideyou]

BNHA Secondary Gender Headcanons: Class 1-A

Below I’ve listed my secondary gender headcanon for each member of Class 1-A, along with my reasons for putting them there. If you disagree with any of them, feel free to leave a reblog/comment explaining why; I love discussing this topic. The characters are listed in their seating order.

I have also listed my second and third favourite secondary gender headcanon for each character. If the word is crossed out, that means I can’t see them as that gender.

Yuuga Aoyama: Omega

Aoyama’s attention-seeking behaviour and intense care for his own beauty completely strike me as omega traits. He’s also quite sociable, in his own special way.

Beta, Alpha

Ashido Mina: Omega

Mina’s incredibly energetic, and very sociable. She has a tendency to latch onto people when she’s scared, and is super interested in her friend’s love lives. Those all strike me as omega traits.

Alpha, Beta

Asui Tsuyu: Beta

Recovery Girl pointed out to Deku that Tsuyu’s strongest trait was her ability to keep calm in stressful situations and ground her teammates, using the USJ incident as an example. Those are textbook beta personality traits, and the main reasons why I see her as one.

Omega, Alpha

Iida Tenya: Alpha

Iida is one of the most assertive members of Class 1-A. He’s not afraid to tell his classmates when they’re doing something wrong, and even stood up to Present Mic before the entrance exams. He took charge of the stampede in the cafeteria, an act that got him the class presidency. When Tensei was injured by Stain, Iida’s first reaction was to try and avenge him, and as I’ve said in some of my previous posts, I think responding to trauma with rage is an alpha response.

Beta, Omega

Uraraka Ochako: Omega

Ochako is very friendly, along with being bubbly, warm, and an optimist. She was willing to give Deku some of her points in the entrance exam as a thank you for saving her, and is also very family-orientated, as her entire motivation for becoming a hero is her drive to help her parents. She’s also more focused on the helping people part of heroism instead of the combat, as she wants to be a rescue hero.

Alpha, Beta

Ojirou Mashirao: Beta

Ojirou is a very calm person who normally doesn’t take leadership positions. He’s a hardworker, and has a deep set of morals, as seen when he refused his spot in the sports festival. He’s humble and reliable, and most people see him as “plain.”

Alpha, Omega

Kaminari Denki: Omega

Denki is by far one of the most social people in Class 1-A, and is a very energetic person. He’s always worried about his allies in a battle, and will only use his quirk if he’s positive none of them will be injured as collateral. He’s quick to panic in fights, and normally needs someone else’s encouragement to get his confidence back, like he received from Jirou during the USJ incident. His general excitable demeanour completely strikes me as omega.

Beta, Alpha

Kirishima Eijirou: Alpha

He idolizes “manliness,” and will not hesitate to put other people’s safety before his own. In the USJ incident, his first instinct was to try and help his classmates, and he only went after the villains when Bakugou convinced him too. In the final exam, his only plan was to use brute force. The second he learned Bakugou was in danger during the Forest Attack, he tried to go out to protect him. When Bakugou was kidnapped, he didn’t hesitate to decide to rescue him, no matter the risks. In the Overhaul arc, he got sucked into the Rappa fight thanks to his effort to protect Aizawa, and held his own against Rappa out of his desire to protect Fat Gum. Kirishima absolutely screams alpha to me.

Beta, Omega

Kouda Koji: Beta

Kouda is a very meek person, preferring to stay in the shadows and let other people take the reigns, and is quite shy and quiet. He doesn’t have a strong enough personality to be an omega or an alpha in my opinion.

Omega, Alpha

Satou Rikkido: Alpha

In the final exams, his only approach was to attack with brute strength alone, and he has the stereotypical build of an alpha. Unfortunately, because we haven’t seen much of his personality, that’s all I have to back my opinion up.

Beta, Omega

Shoji Mezou: Alpha

During the Forest Attack, he wasn’t willing to leave Tokoyami behind after Dark Shadow took over, even though it was incredibly dangerous. He’s quite protective over his friends, especially when they’re injured. He’s also very thick-skinned, as when people insult him about his appearance, he normally doesn’t react at all.

Beta, Omega

Jirou Kyouka: Alpha

Jirou is normally pretty chilled-out, but she’s more than willing to show people her teeth. If she’s uncomfortable with a situation, she lets people know immediately, usually with an earphone jack to their ear. In the USJ incident, she spoke confidently to the villain as she tried to plug into her boots, even though her plan failed. She took charge in her final exam, giving Kouda the courage to use his quirk. She’s also quite fond of insulting people, usually Kaminari.

Beta, Omega

Sero Hanta: Beta

Sero’s a great team player, as shown in the provincial licensing arc, the joint training arc, and the Heroes Rising movie, willing to put his life on the line for his friends but never taking the leadership position himself. He also has big stoner energy, which I’d associate with betas.

Alpha, Omega

Tokoyami Fumikage: Beta

Like Sero, he’s a great team player, who also doesn’t have a habit of seeking out leadership positions. He’ll take charge of situations if he feels like he needs to, but most of the time, he’s content with sitting back and following the lead of others. He’s definitely one of the most chilled out members of 1-A.

Alpha, Omega

Todoroki Shouto: Alpha

Todoroki’s stoicism, sass, and complete lack of care for other people’s opinions of him all scream alpha to me. As I said with Iida, I see reacting to trauma with rage as an alpha response, and up until the sports festival, he was overflowing with rage at his father. He’s also willing to do drop everything if he thinks his friends are in danger, as shown when Midoriya texted him in the Stain arc.

Omega, Beta

Hagakure Tooru: Omega

Hagakure has similar energy to Mina, in the fact she’s very energetic and incredibly interested in romance, but to an even greater degree.

Beta, Alpha

Bakugou Katsuki: Omega

He has a thin waist (which I’d associate with an omegan body type), is quite dependent on praise, especially from parental/familial figures, is skilled at reading people, enjoys cooking, and he cares about his friends; even if he doesn’t show it. And while I concede that he does show a lot of the alpha traits I pointed out in other characters, I don’t like writing him as one. This one comes down to more of a personal preference.

Alpha, Beta

Midoriya Izuku: Beta

If someone displays both alpha and omega traits, I normally label them as a beta. Midoriya is great with kids and makes strong emotional connections easily, but he’s also a BAMF who goes absolutely FERAL in some fights, as well as being unstoppable once he’s set his mind to something. That mix, along with his general demeanour and analytical habits, make me see him as a beta.

Alpha, Omega

Mineta Minoru: Alpha

Mineta constantly acts like he’s the head of the class, but because he’s such a weak little bitch no one takes him seriously. His entire motivation for becoming a hero is to attract girls, and he acts like he has a right to perv on his female classmates. He’s a textbook “terrible alpha” to me.

Beta, Omega

Yaoyorozu Momo: Alpha

Momo is the vice president of Class 1-A, and one of the class’ main leaders. During the USJ incident, provincial licensing arc, joint training arc, and final exam after she gained her confidence back after her character arc, she took charge of the situation and made the main plan to overcome the challenges presented to her, keeping a level head and instructing the people around her the entire time. Kendou Itsuka, who I also think is an alpha, sees her as her main rival, and Saiko Intelli (another alpha) considered her the greatest threat to her plan. Recovery Girl has pointed out that she’s going to be an amazing leader as a pro hero.

Beta, Omega

[bangtan-madi]

All Of Our Lifetimes — One: Daymare

Pairing — Taehyung x Reader

Tags — boyfriend!Taehyung, husband!Taehyung reincarnation au, lovers to strangers and to lovers again, established relationship, implied soulmate au

Genre — fluff, angst, crime (ish)

Word Count — 2.7k

Summary — Does love ever truly end, or does it simply take another form in a new life? The cycle is like clockwork: your lives end and you’re reborn again. You’ve lived it over and over. Each cycle, one of you loses your memories and is tragically unaware until the other finds and awakens their lover. After all these eons, all these lifetimes, is it possible to find each other again—even when neither of you awakens with your memories? 

Part — 1 / 10

Warnings — swearing

A/N — This is going up a few hours earlier than I said previously, but I don’t care! Tuesday is the worst day of the week so I need to put out something good lol. Enjoy!

Previous — Next

"Find me... Find me... F—"

"—Oh, fuck me!"

Milo's temper tantrum draws you from your intense daydream. Jolting in your seat, breath ragged and heartbeat racing, you see your roommate throw a copy of her resume across the living room in a burst of rage.

"Fuck you," she points sharply at the paper, "fuck this, and fuck me!"

As Milo throws herself onto the couch, draping her forearm dramatically across her eyes, she heaves a heavy sigh and groans loudly.

"How are we supposed to have this much experience for an entry-level job, [Y/n]? We were lied to. I feel wronged. Can I sue?"

You shake your head, trying to push the daymare away from your mind. It's not the first time this has happened, and it certainly won't be the last, but somehow that man's face keeps coming back to you. Day and night, he's all you see when you close your eyes, almost like a memory...

You feign a smile as you reply, "Who are you gonna sue, Mi? You're the one that insisted on doing your resume yourself, after our internships."

Milo gestures extravagantly with her free hand, making shapes in the air with her fingers. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe the professor who told us that we'd have enough to get a job overseas by the time we graduated? Maybe the damned school who never mentioned the fact that South Korean's are so damn particular? Maybe my mom who never forced me to continue speaking Korean or writing Hangul when I was a kid so that I had to basically re-learn every-fucking-thing?"

The highs and lows of her complaints cause a laugh to slip out as you turn your attention back to your own resume, a digital copy ready for edits on your laptop. "You're gonna sue your Mrs. Choi? Doesn't sound like a great idea. Besides, I like her too much. Her kimchi is to die for. And if you had already known Korean and Hangul, we may have never met!"

Your best friend nods once, accepting this fact as true. "Probably not. That semester in a foreign language really did solidify our nerdiness about South Korea." She jabs a finger in your direction. "But I have a one-up on you 'cause my grandparents were first-gen immigrants from Seoul. So ha!"

Raising your hands in mock defeat, you retort, "You win that one. I'm just an American."

"So sad." The brunette sits up with an excited expression, eyes wide as she crawls over to you on your side of the sofa. "How about my academic advisor, if you can even call the woman an advisor for rehashing my own questions back at me? She convinced me that I could get a job anywhere, with any degree. So what did I go with? Interior design! I can't find a single freakin' job in Seoul for that! Not that doesn't require, like, three years experience, a particular certification that I conveniently did not get, and a signed contract with the Evil Underlord Satan."

"I really don't think that's gonna work, but hey go ahead and try!"

Milo shoves your shoulder playfully, turning to the television to change it to the New Year's Rockin' Eve show that you'd been waiting to start. "You're the one that took ethics classes! I thought you'd be able to tell me if I had a case."

You scoff, "I took business ethics, not legal ethics! But I can agree with you partly. That woman was of no help. At all. Glad I wasn't stuck with her as an advisor since I was in the communications program."

"Yeah, I like to compare her to our house: a conventional ranch with no personality."

You burst into laughter, and Milo hops up from the sofa, an amused expression on her face. She tosses the remote in your direction. "Get the channel right. I can't find it. I wanna watch the ABC exclusive. Pretty sure we get that through YouTube TV."

You catch the remote with ease and turn to the menu. "You think I know how this thing works? I only use Netflix and Crunchy Roll."

"Just shut up and search, will ya?"

You roll your eyes and do as your roommate asks. "Why ABC? Isn't it easier to just stream it online?"

"Becauuuse BTS! They're gonna be performing in, like, ten minutes!"

"What's that again?" you tease.

"Okay, I am not dealing with you right now. Don't make me come over there and hit you with the champagne bottle."

The last two words catch your attention. You turn around, rest your arms on the back of the sofa, and give your best friend the biggest puppy-dog eyes you can manage. "Pour me a glass, Jagiya?"

Milo smirks at the Korean pet name and grabs the golden bottle from the refrigerator. "Get your ass over here so we can pop it and move on. I ain't waiting for midnight. We got shit to do before then, and I can't work on this job-seeking stuff for another damn second without some alcohol in me."

You squeal a tiny, "Yay!" before leaping over the back of the sofa and joining your roommate in the kitchen.

After the champagne is popped and poured, both of you return to your places on the sofa. You take a sip from your glass as Milo calls your favorite local pizza place to place an order.

"Pickup in fifteen, which is perfect! I don't wanna miss BTS," she giggles, pushing her champagne away. "No drinking and driving. I can wait until I get back."

"You're giving up champagne for this band?" you tut, swirling your glass to show off the drink. "You must really love these boys."

Milo narrows her dark eyes at you and tosses her hair over her shoulder. "You'll see."

Another sip and you turn back to your laptop, the noise of the New Year's Rockin' Eve in the background. "Mhm, sure."

You continue to work in relative quiet for the next five minutes until Milo breaks the peace with an elated screech, a sound that is more similar to that of an animal than a twenty-something woman.

"They're on!" She grabs your arm and shakes it vigorously. "Look at them!"

You stop your edits to your portfolio and turn to the television with a sigh. The crowd has started to go mad over the seven men currently trotting up the stairs and on to the stage. The singing has already begun, and you have to admit that their voices harmonized spectacularly together.

But there's one voice, in particular, that is so familiar to you. Despite being mixed in with the group, the lowest register has your eyes leaving your laptop screen and shifting to the television. You can't put your finger on it, but there's something so soft, so real, so warm about it.

The camera zeroes in on the seven men. All are dressed to the nines and look like they're having a blast while performing. So not only can they sing and dance—and, for some, rap—they're all stupid good looking, each in their own unique way.

As the first song comes to a close, and Milo sings the last verse at the top of her lungs, the camera pans to the man in the center. He delivers some of the last lines in a voice as soft and warm as the one you'd heard amongst the mass. Except, this time, he stands out.

But you recognize more than his voice; his appearance is familiar, too. Despite remaining in the background for most of the first song's performance, there's something about the man with the wavy black hair and similarly colored trench coat that calls to you. On an ordinary day, on any other day, you would wave it off as a simple attraction.

But this—this is different. You can't put your finger on how or why, but you know that you've met this person before.

Lightning strikes. You know where you've seen this face before. He's been in your dreams and nightmares, your daymares and daytime imagination. He's been all over your mind, consuming it for the past few months. You've always had this dream, ever since you were a child, but lately, those nightmares have been getting more frequent. This man might be a slightly younger version than the one that plagues your dreams, but it's the same person. You're sure of it. Every time you close your eyes, his face is the one you see.

Right before you both die.

The next song begins, and the dark-haired stranger is back at the front. For the remainder of their eight-minute time slot, your eyes are glued to the screen, unable to comprehend where this person came from. You have distinct memories of your mother consoling a three-year-old you after having these same night terrors. Surely, you could not have seen this person back then. It's unlikely you saw him at all, and certainly not as he is at the turn of the decade.

"Who's that?"

Milo follows your gesture, seeing the raven-haired man taking center stage once again. "That's Kim Taehyung! Pretty, isn't he?" She chuckles at your expression. "You have a bias already, damn that's impressive. I mean, I'm more of a Hoseok girl myself but..."

Your roommate's chatter fades away as your attention is once again drawn to the screen. The performance ends, and the show shifts to a different artist, all part of the New Year's Rockin' Eve circus.

"Welp, that was worth the wait, but  I'm gonna go pick up that pizza," Milo cheers, hopping to her feet. "Don't drink all the champagne before I get back!" 

You shake your head and wave to the brunette as she slips out the door. Turning back to your laptop, you open a new search bar and put in two words: Kim Taehyung.

Millions of results pop up, everything from Wikipedia articles to Koreaboo gossip posts and everything in between. The entire time Milo is gone, you spend online researching BTS' V. By the end of the half-hour, you've learned quite a bit about him—taking particular note that his birthday is just a few days after yours—and have stalked his social media.

A little farther down on the results, you see an ad for Big Hit Entertainment. The ad says that the company is looking for bi-lingual speakers, preferably English and Korean, to hire as a production assistant. Out of curiosity, you click on the link and are taken to Big Hit's site.

Milo returns with fanfare, holding the pizza in front of her like Simba the lion. "It's the cirrrcle of life!" she sings. "They were definitely talking about pizza when they wrote that line."

As she plops the box onto the kitchen counter, you make a sound of vague agreement. Milo asks you how many pieces you want, but you hardly hear her, eyes skimming the job posting over and over.

Is this a possibility? Is this something you're actually considering? Besides the fact that you just saw the add a few minutes ago, your reasons for applying are vague at best. Are you weighing the real options, or are you leaning into this particular job because it might lead you to answers? Or maybe give you an opportunity to meet this Kim Taehyung, maybe even ask him questions?

"Hello? Earth to [Y/n]!" Milo reaches over the back of the sofa to wave a hand in front of your face. Snapping you out of your stupor, your best friend laughs. "Damn, what are you reading? You're really out—wait...is that Big Hit? You found a job posting? What!"

Milo grabs your laptop and pulls it from your grasp. "Mi—"

She brings it over the back of the couch, placing it on the counter beside the pizza. Her brown eyes are wide and curious as she scrolls through the information. "Production assistant for Big Hit, in Seoul, for a bi-lingual speaker with no prior experience? Dude. This is the perfect job! Like, seriously, where did you find this?"

"On Google," you sigh, knowing that you're not going to get the laptop back until Milo relinquishes her control. You settle in on the stool beside her. "I was looking...for postings while you were gone. I stumbled across it."

Milo cocks an eyebrow and shows you your search history, terms which mostly consist of "BTS," "BTS V," and "Kim Taehyung."

"Mhm, suuure, we'll go with job postings."

You take the device from her with a playful scowl. "My point remains. This is exactly what I've been looking for. It says here that the job would be a lot of translation work, both in person and on documents. I'd also assist in the studio while recording or producing. And various other tasks, but I think it'd put my communications major to good use. It's a step in the right direction."

"You sure you just don't wanna see Taehyung-ssi?" she giggles.

A rising feeling of defensiveness comes over you as you close your laptop, moving to the sofa to retrieve your glass of champagne. "I just heard BTS for the first time tonight, Milo. I'm not about to pick my first post-college job and move half-way around the world for a boy I don't even know, let alone a K-pop boy."

"A cute K-pop boy, though." 

You return to her side, raising both eyebrows in an expression that says, "Really?"

Milo shrugs, raising her hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay, I'll let it go. Just an odd choice for you."

"Well, it's like we were saying earlier." You grab a piece of pizza from the box and shove the end into your mouth. "What'd we got t'lose?"

Milo makes a "close your mouth" gesture with her hand, grimacing at the sight. "Points were made. Fine, but maybe sleep on it? And this is me telling you to not be impulsive," she laughs towards the end. "But what the hell. If you go for it, I might have to find a job in Seoul sooner than I thought."

"I'm sure there are thousands of applicants," you grimace, the reality of the situation settling in. 

Milo grabs a slice for herself and wraps an arm around your shoulders. "And you're worth each and every one of 'em." After pressing a loud kiss to your temple, she slips from the bench and plops back down on the sofa. "C'mon! We got some balls to drop and resumes to edit."

Later that evening, or earlier the next morning, you're left cleaning up as Milo reclines on the sofa in a tipsy slumber. After the New Year rolls in, along with a brand new decade, you're left alone with your thoughts. 

Thoughts and several disposable dishes.

As you tidy up, you contemplate the options in front of you. Sure, you'd sent out several resumes to plenty of companies already. Some of which you'd heard absolutely nothing from, while others have let you know they'll get back to you about a possible interview. So far, nothing has been terribly promising.

So what' the harm in applying for the Big Hit job in Seoul?

The other half of your motivation slips into your sleepy mind. The person you've seen since childhood, could he really be Taehyung? Could you finally be so close to the answers? Why only one dream? Why him? Why so much blood and death?

Does he dream of you, too?

The laptop remains on the kitchen counter, and your fingers itch to open it up and send off your completed resume. This could lead to more than just a new job and a fresh start; this could lead to the answers you've been seeking ever since you were three years old.

A tiny voice inside you says, "Do it."

And, against your better judgment, you listen. 

[iron--spider]

Without further ado—here are my book jacket summaries. SEND ME YOUR VOTE IN AN ASK! And the winner will (most likely) be my next big fic, which won’t be for a little bit because of my friend’s wedding events. But it will be coming soon :) You can definitely ask questions but I can’t necessarily say I’ll answer them because 1. I don’t know every detail about these quite yet, though I do know the general beginning, middle, end 2. I don’t wanna spoil them completely. Please don’t steal this shit lmao I’M TRUSTING Y’ALL.

IDEA A.

(Endgame AU, future fic, older Peter Parker, Morgan included, Peter/MJ romance, Drama/Mystery)

Tony Stark is dead. Lost almost ten years ago, and not to Thanos or any Avengers level threat, but in a clash with the Green Goblin that Peter regrets every morning when he wakes up and every night when he goes to sleep. Being Tony’s protege meant that most of Tony’s tech went to Peter, and on one of his more melancholy days, Peter goes through Tony’s old workshops, and digs up one of Tony’s inventions that he doesn’t recognize or remember. And once he turns it on, he realizes it must be some kind of communication device—and he gets the surprise of his life when he connects immediately with a familiar voice.

Tony’s voice. 

After some panic, some anger, some accusations, Peter realizes it isn’t a trick. Peter realizes that he’s actually speaking to Tony. Tony, from the past. Tony, three days before the day of his death.

Can Peter can change the past? And if he does, can he deal with the consequences?

IDEA B.

(Endgame everybody lives AU, no five year loss, pregnant Pepper, Avengers as family including Team Cap, Peter/MJ romance, Drama/Mystery/Comedy)

Tony wakes up one morning to a concerned call from May Parker. As per usual, Peter is worrying his poor aunt to death—but this time is different. His phone is giving a message that it’s not in service. And when Tony’s panic rises and he searches for Peter with Friday, he’s horrified to find out that there’s no trace of Peter anywhere on the earth. 

He’s gone. Disappeared, without a trace.

Tony leaps into action, using all the tech at his disposal, searching through Spider-Man fan groups online, and eventually, he’s led to an abandoned warehouse on Roosevelt Island. There’s a strange feeling in the air, and it isn’t just his fear making him sick. There’s something going on. There’s something...off.

And Tony finds a major clue under a nearby bridge, faded underneath old graffiti and withering posters and the sands of time. 

TONY - I’M HERE. I’M HERE IN 1991 :(

And it’s signed with small spider. 

IDEA C.

(AU in which Tony never met Peter, pre-civil war timeline with Avengers as family, Peter as an orphan with no May and Ben, eventual Peter/MJ romance, Drama)

Tony Stark has a happy life. He loves his girlfriend. He’s got a lot of money, he’s a philanthropist, he gives back. He’s also a superhero, with a bunch of superhero buddies.

But strangely, there’s something missing. He’s got ghosts of people he once knew, people who are gone with no goodbyes, and he’s got ghosts of people that were never here to begin with. People he might have met, in another life.

One night he’s looking through his father’s old files, and he finds out there was a project Howard was working on—searching for heroes that came before Captain America. The folder isn’t packed, and there are only a few suspects with not much evidence, but there is one person in particular that strikes Tony as soon as he sees him.

Peter Parker. Someone Howard dubbed ‘the Spider-Man’. The kid was born in 1913, and all of Howard’s evidence was blurry newspaper photos, some handwritten notes that made it seem like Howard himself was following Peter. He was never able to prove that Peter was actually the Spider-Man, but his conclusion was that he was most likely correct—because the Spider-Man never reappeared after Peter Parker died in a factory fire in 1929. 

Tony reads the details about Peter. An orphan, living on the streets. Someone Howard described as kind, helpful. ‘Undoubtedly the masked hero. A genuinely good and decent human being who only thought of others.’

Suddenly, Tony is thinking about time travel. 

IDEA D.

(Endgame everybody lives AU, not FFH compliant, Peter/MJ romance, Peter & Harry Osborn friendship, Avengers as family, Morgan Stark present, Drama/Mystery)

Peter Parker is finally on the right track. He’s a sophomore at ESU, staying close to home so he can keep up with his Spider-Man duties. He’s in a long term relationship with MJ. And they and Ned have adopted a new friend into their group—Harry Osborn.

But everything goes wrong when Norman, Harry’s father, announces that his son has been killed and Spider-Man is to blame. And worse yet, he has video evidence, despite the fact that Peter was nowhere near the event when it happened.

MJ and Ned take Peter, and they run.

Tony fights for his kid in the public eye while he facilitates Peter and the others with safe houses, and Peter quickly realizes that there’s a lot more to Norman Osborn than he ever could have imagined. Including the leagues of supervillains he sends after Peter and his friends. He clearly knows who Peter is, knows he’s Spider-Man. But he isn’t leaking his identity to the public just yet. And Peter has no idea why. 

Can Tony clear Spider-Man’s name before it’s too late?

IDEA E.

(Tony surrives the snap in Endgame but falls into a coma, FFH compliant, Peter/MJ romance, Morgan Stark present, Drama)

Tony remembers snapping. Remembers the whiteness that he thought was the pearly gates finally coming into view. But then nothing happened. He was in the middle of nowhere, a great dark space, and he figured purgatory would be more exciting than this. 

Sometimes, he can hear voices.

The people he loves. Pepper, pleading for him to come back. Morgan, telling him how much she loves him. Rhodey and Happy, telling him how they’re taking care of everything while he sleeps.

Sleeps?

He hears Peter, too. Almost more than anybody else, and the kid’s guilt is out of this world. Eventually, Peter talks about going on a trip. A trip that May and the others convinced him to go on. Tony’s glad. He knows the kid has earned it ten times over.

Later, he hears more voices. Jumbed, mass hysteria. 

It’s bad but we can help him—

We’re gonna try, we’re gonna try—

Please wake up, he needs you—

Peter’s in the Raft, Tony. It didn’t work. He’s in the Raft.

Tony feels a kind of strength he’s never felt before. A kind of anger and horror and pure rage and the blackness dissipates, stretches, moves like a ladder falling.

He pulls himself out.

Beeping, noises, everyone moving around, grabbing him, pushing him down. He’s dizzy, he’s sick, but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. Nothing else matters. They’re talking, but he can’t hear them.

He’s gotta get Peter. The Raft? The fucking Raft?

He has to save him.

[thetimelesscycle]

Tales of Arcadia Wizards Fanfiction: Hope Dies Last - Chapter 4

A common goal fails to foster cooperation, and questions without answers continue to perplex.

A/N: In which I am forced to try and include some actual plot and civil conversations are in short supply.

Chapter 4

A Puzzle Incomplete  

To say that Merlin was furious would have been as wild an understatement as the claim that Arthur was not especially fond of magic. He was not certain there was a word for the incandescent rage boiling just beneath his skin, threatening to dissolve carefully constructed walls that had not crumbled in decades. It took a conscious effort to keep a lid on that fury as he guided his exhausted apprentice to lie down once again, the boy having spent what little strength he’d regained in a few scant minutes. Shivers still wracked his slender frame, his body reacting to the invisible wound festering beneath the surface, though at this point Merlin was more worried about his state of mind.

He had never seen Hisirdoux display such raw terror before, not even at the sword point of Arthur’s knights. Then again, Galahad had only threatened to execute him, not tear his soul to shreds and leave him with the tattered remains.

The worst part was he did not think there were meant to be any remains. Whoever had attacked his apprentice had done so with the intention of destroying him completely. They had come dangerously close to succeeding, thwarted by the boy’s own magic, which raised more questions than it answered. If Hisirdoux had encountered a creature powerful enough to wound him in this way, how was he still alive? How had a child whose own enchantments still flummoxed him fended off that sort of danger?

He wasn’t going to get any answers from Hisirdoux right now, that much was clear. His apprentice was mumbling restlessly in his sleep again, nonsensical words, the delusional arguments of an overstressed mind.

“Tell me you know how to fix this.” Archie had settled himself behind his familiar’s shoulders, one paw draped over the boy’s arm, but his eyes were fixed on Merlin, plea and demand both in that gaze. “Tell me you can help him.”

“I intend to do everything in my power, Archibald.” It wasn’t quite the same lie he’d told his apprentice, trying to soothe the boy’s panic before he did himself further injury, but it wasn’t the whole truth either; He was already doing everything in his power, it simply wasn’t enough.

“That’s not a ‘yes’.” The tiny dragon gave him a look that could almost have been called threatening. “He thinks you’re capable of anything, you know. Maybe it’s time you lived up to the legend.”

Not gracing that barbed statement with a response, he tucked the blanket back about Hisirdoux’s shoulders, pausing just long enough to rest a hand on the boy’s clammy forehead as he renewed his stasis spell for the umpteenth time. That done, he took his leave, refusing to acknowledge Archie’s lingering stare as he slipped out of the room.

Morgana was waiting for him when he reentered the workshop, pacing back and forth with long, sweeping strides, a book held open in her hands. She whirled as soon as the door opened.

“How is he?”

Straight to the point. Her and Arthur were very alike in that way. He didn’t answer at once, drifting across the room to the cluttered workbench by the stained glass windows. There was a fine layer of dust there that had gathered over the past two days, the designs he had been pouring over what seemed a lifetime ago now sitting discarded and forgotten. He sensed Morgana’s impatience as he lifted the page of sketches and idly examined its contents, dropping the weighted truth into the tense silence.

“Slipping away.” It was an inadequate description for what would happen if he didn’t find a way to stop the dark magic from finishing its work. What was confusion and spontaneous panic now would devolve into raving madness as Hisirdoux’s very essence continued to crumble. The boy was already losing memories, the spell he had cast only slowing the process, not preventing it. “I have no doubt this was an attempt to kill him.”

“Why?” Her outrage echoed his own. Where his bubbled beneath a thin veneer of self-control, hers revealed itself in a flash of righteous fury, the room rattling briefly as she paced closer. “He’s a child, Merlin!”

“That I cannot say.” His suspicions, founded on his knowledge of the type of magic it took to cause this kind of injury, seemed ludicrous. Hisirdoux was not trained enough to be a threat to anyone yet — besides himself — and certainly not enough of a danger to warrant such wanton cruelty. The being who had attacked his apprentice under Arthur’s very nose had done so with purely malicious intent. To hurt someone in that way, to threaten not only their life but their existence beyond the mortal plane as well... that was an act of pure hatred. More perturbing still, Hisirdoux appeared to have been the only target. Not even Archie had been wounded, despite the fact the pair of them shared the same bed. “Though I intend to find out.”

“I will help in any way I can,” she asserted, coming to stand on the opposite side of the work table. “What about Douxie? Is there anything he needs? Anything we can do?”

“He needs a proper healer.” Morgana scowled, and Merlin’s own glare deepened out of habit. It was a tall order. Neither of them had a gift for healing magic, formidable wizards though they might be, and those of Camelot’s dwindling magical community who were proficient in the healing arts had been some of the first victims in Arthur’s war against magic. Such individuals were typically well-known and notoriously bad at keeping themselves hidden, driven as they were to put their skills to good use. Hisirdoux had shown some aptitude for minor healing charms using his runic bracelet, but not to the level required to mend someone’s shredded spirit; Certainly not when he was the victim.

“Did he tell you what happened?” Morgana was on the hunt. He’d seen that look enough times to recognise it. “A name? A face?”

“No, not yet.” He could have pushed. It was clear Hisirdoux remembered something, and was deeply disturbed by it. Perhaps that was why he’d chosen not to force the matter. Further stress right now would only make things worse. He also had the image of his apprentice reeling away from him in abject terror ingrained in his mind, and wasn’t in any great hurry to repeat that experience. “We’ll have a chance to ask some more pertinent questions when next he wakes. In the meantime, we should continue our efforts to keep the castle secure.”

“You’re worried about Arthur.”

“He is a rather more likely candidate for assassination than my very green apprentice.”

“You haven’t even considered the possibility that you were the target, have you?” He came up short, casting her a piercing look. Morgana rolled her eyes. “Of course you haven’t. He is your apprentice, Merlin. If anyone wanted to draw you out, Douxie is by far the easiest way to reach you.”

It made a disturbing amount of sense, much as he would prefer to deny it. Anyone with even an inkling of familiarity with the royal court would be aware that he would go to Arthur’s aid as required, but the king had an enchanted blade and dozens of trained knights at his beck and call. He would not fall without a fight. Hisirdoux, on the other hand, couldn’t even fend off an enchanted broom. It was entirely possible, even probable, that anyone trying to strike down the Master Wizard would see his apprentice as the weak link in the chain.

Except, that would suggest that the person responsible believed he would set everything else aside to assure the welfare of his student. That assumption was to his advantage; Or, it would have been, had he not spent the last two days doing exactly that. Without the constant renewal of his stasis spell, Hisirdoux might not have survived long enough to regain consciousness. Putting aside his other duties had seemed the right thing to do at the time, weighed against the unnerving thought of no longer having apprentice and dragon constantly underfoot. Morgana was forcing him to face the fact his enemies may have depended upon him making that exact decision, and consider the very real possibility his eyes had deliberately been drawn away from some greater danger.

He wasn’t in the mood to entertain that thought, or to acknowledge the stark fear nipping gently at his heels, so he deliberately set them both aside. There had been no further attacks; It seemed reasonable to assume Hisirdoux was the only target for the time being, as perplexing as that was.

“There is no point speculating until we know more,” he said aloud, knowing the silence had stretched a beat too long. “Better to concentrate on securing our defenses and finding someone to help Hisirdoux.”

“You won’t find anyone in Camelot. You know that.”

That she was right didn’t make him any less aggravated by the observation. “What do you suggest, then?”

“I could try.”

He had not been expecting it, which was the only reason it took him more than a second to formulate his reply. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Why not?”

“I think enough damage has already been done without bringing Shadow Magic into the mix, don’t you?”

“I’m not going to hurt him!”

“No, because you will not be using your dark arts anywhere near him. I forbid it.”

She clenched her fists around the volume in her hands, the room rattling again as she stared him down in muted fury. “You know you are part of the problem, don’t you? If you didn’t spend so much time dismissing and demonising that which you don’t understand perhaps Arthur would not feel so justified in destroying every form of magic that does not serve him.”

“Rubbish.” He waved the words away. “We both know where Arthur’s hatred of magic stems from. It has nothing to do with me.”

“You are blind if you truly believe that.”

“And you are wasting my time with pointless arguments in the midst of a crisis. I have better things to do right now than have this discussion with you again.”

He turned towards the door, only to have it come aglow with magic as it slammed shut.

“I am not Hisirdoux to be dismissed whenever you don’t feel like listening.”

“More’s the pity.” He swung back around to face her with his condemnation. “I did at least think you had enough regard for the boy not to delay my work.”

The glare she fixed on him could have quelled Gunmar himself. Merlin simply glared right back, raising an imperious eyebrow in that way he knew she hated.

“Waiting and hoping you’ll think of something is not the answer, Merlin, as you well know. You just don’t want to admit it.”

“What I refuse to admit is that diving headfirst into the Shadow Realm is a viable solution to the problem at hand. Because it isn’t.”

“You don’t know that.” She gestured with the book in her hands. Not one of his library; He had never encouraged this exploration of dark magic. He didn’t even know where she had happened across it, only that he deeply regretted not having snatched it away to cast into the fire years ago. “You don’t know Shadow Magic. How can you be so certain it won’t work?”

“Common sense, girl.” She glowered at the title, a humbling she had earned with her adamance. “Double the poison does not make a cure.”

“There is nothing there to cure.” She slammed her hand palm down on the table. Out of the corner of his eye, Merlin marked Archie emerging from the bedchamber, though whether he intended to intervene or simply wanted to be closer to the unfolding argument was debatable. “Whatever magic did this to him destroyed parts of his soul. They’re not there to be mended, they’re gone. He’s not a torn cloak, Merlin. You can’t just tie the pieces that remain together and hope it’s enough to cover what is missing. Even if you get him back on his feet you will stretch him so thin you’ll be lucky if he doesn’t kill himself the first time he tries to cast a spell!”

“And how would you know that, hmm? What extensive well of experience are you drawing your theories from?”

“This.” She lifted up the spell book, shoving it at his chest. He seized it on instinct, and she took the opportunity to pluck several more volumes off the table and toss them in his direction as well. He caught those with magic, which was preferable to his face, and watched her storm closer whilst struggling to contain his own rising ire. “You are so convinced that your way is the only way that it has never even occurred to you that I chose to study Shadow Magic for this very reason. For when other means are not enough. You have no idea how it works because you think it is beneath you. I do know. I can use it. And I know that if we have any hope of restoring Douxie’s soul the Shadow Realm is our best chance. Somebody tore that boy to pieces, Merlin, what’s missing doesn’t exist in this world anymore, but that sort of dark magic leaves a trail. I can save him if you will just trust me.”

“And when what you save is not Hisirdoux? When you patch him back together with dark magic and corrupt him entirely? What then, Morgana?”

“I know the difference.”

“No, you think you know the difference, and I will not wager my apprentice’s life on your arrogance.”

“My arrogance? You are the old fool who can’t see past your own self-importance to what your inaction has cost us all! You could have stopped Arthur years ago if you so chose, but you needed him to keep you safe so you could continue your all important work, at the cost of the hundreds of innocents you abandoned. The only reason your apprentice ever needed saving was because you were too much of a coward to stand up to your king!”

“How dare you—!”

“Stop it, both of you!” The outburst was such a surprise that Merlin was actually struck to silence, turning in tandem with Morgana to stare at the small dragon glaring at them both with a baleful expression. “What you seem to be forgetting is that this isn’t your decision to make, it’s Douxie’s. He is the one who has been hurt here, and you deciding what is best for him without bothering to even ask what he thinks is not going to help matters at all. When he wakes up we will all have a civilised discussion on what the best thing to do is. Until then, perhaps you two Master Wizards can put your heads together and properly figure out who was responsible for this. Before they do the same thing to someone else.”

The ensuing hush was awkward, to say the least. Archie refused to back down, standing with wings flared and lips curled back in a faint snarl as he tried to look as intimidating as a dragon that didn’t come up to one’s knees could. Merlin was the first to turn away, stalking back to the table to set down the books Morgana had flung at him in her fury. Unfortunately for him, years spent as his student had taught her to read his silences better than anyone else, and there was disbelief in her eyes when he turned back to face the pair of them.

“You already know, don’t you?” she accused.

“I suspect,” he defended himself. “That is not the same thing as knowing.”

“Yes, yes, it’s completely different,” Archie pressed impatiently. “Who do you suspect is responsible then?”

He had not been ready to disclose this much to anyone just yet. Sadly, he could not see a way out of it without inciting another argument. It was a small miracle they hadn’t already woken Hisirdoux with all the shouting that had been going on, and he didn’t want to subject himself to Archie’s righteous anger should it start up again. Instead, he adopted the stance of a teacher once more, marching back and forth as he spoke, “The ability to injure someone in this way is not common. Shadow Magic might allow you to tether a soul to a traumatic memory, hold it in place, twist it until it bends to your will, or rip it from its mortal flesh entirely, but it does not allow you to cause irreparable harm. This is something older, darker. This is the Arcane Order.”

Morgana exchanged a glance with the familiar, then asked the expected question, “What is the Arcane Order?”

“You mean who,” he held up a finger to emphasise his point. “They are a trio of ancient wizards who protect the balance between the magic and the mortal worlds by rendering destruction on those they perceive to be a threat. If you want to blame anyone for the world’s growing mistrust of magic, Morgana, the Order should be at the top of your list. To say that they are responsible for the deaths of hundreds would likely be understating the bloody mark they have left on history. Part of the reason I aided Arthur in uniting Camelot was because it was becoming abundantly clear I could not continue to fight them on my own, and the divisions amongst the mortal kingdoms made them easy prey. The Order has been quiet since Arthur came to power; I might have known they were planning something.”

“Why Douxie, though?” Archie wondered aloud. “Why not Arthur? Why not you?”

“I do not know.” It grated to admit that much. Morgana’s theory might hold some merit, but he still didn’t understand why the Order would not have come for him directly. He was not an easy mark, but he was not unreachable either. “If it was the Arcane Order, then I do not even know how Hisirdoux survived. These are beings older than nearly any other that walks the earth. Hisirdoux is a child. It doesn’t make sense.”

“We are missing something,” Morgana agreed, leaning across the table to emphasise her next point. “So let me look for it.”

He folded his arms, making his disapproval known. “We are going in circles, Morgana. The answer is still no.”

“But—!”

“Enough!” He called his staff to his hand from across the room just to add the force of slamming it on the ground to his words. “I need to go make sure our king is kept informed of this potential threat. If you want to make yourself useful, try searching my library for a solution that won’t simply kill the boy faster.”

“Kill?” Archie’s head shot up, eyes wide behind his glasses. “He’s dying?”

Merlin took that as his cue to leave the room. Let Morgana be the one to break the bad news. If she was doing that perhaps she wouldn’t feel tempted to go rooting through every scrap of forbidden knowledge Arthur had not yet managed to destroy.

A doubtful outcome, but a wizard could hope.

Right now, that seemed like all he could do.

Story Canon Notes:

"Hisirdoux had shown some aptitude for minor healing charms using his runic bracelet..." - Not strictly canon, but Douxie's role in the Trollhunters game is team healer, which at lease loosely implies he has some sort of remedial spell in his arsenal. His (minor) injuries also disappear between scenes in Episode 8, and I assume he was going to attempt to use some sort of healing spell on Merlin before Merlin stopped him.