#In Aldi he want all dis

[chronicowboy]

traitor joe's x what if i (the grocery store song), molly grace

[autumnslance]

The worst part too about the Paladin quests is it's Heavensward that's most egregious. It honestly feels like someone had no idea what was going on, or didn't care, or left, and their colleagues left holding the bag with this mess of a story had no idea what to do with it.

ARR Gladiator quests are fine! They're along the lines of the other Class quests, intro you to the job and a complicated character dynamic, and it's a decent time.

The ARR Paladin quests...are just boring. They aren't actually even that bad, they're just...utterly predictable, bog-standard tropes and plot line where you can see everything coming malms away. But they have an internal logic to them that builds on the politics and scheming in Ul'dah. Jenlyns realizes he's an unwitting pawn of the Syndicate, and he was literally chosen for the job cuz he could be easily duped and controlled. He doesn't even get to have imposter syndrome, he's actually unfit for the job (and then strives to do better, leveraging support from Papashan and Mylla to shore up his own weaknesses, which is admirable!).

...Nevermind that traditional Paladins in general are a bad fit for Ul'dah. The heavily armored Sultansworn makes no sense in that desert environment, and looking at a world map we can even see that Southern Thanalan seems to be on the equator. Like it's not even a case of "it's cooler than it seems cuz they're further north." Because they're not. And I know the devs wanted to have Ishgard perhaps be a starter city but that was scrapped due to time and resources, fine but um.

Dragoons are still trained in Coerthas, by Coerthans. Why didn't they just...do that with Paladins? Keep Gladiator in Ul'dah, where it makes sense as presented. But then have to work with Temple Knights to get the Job. Especially since after Ul'dah's intro, the game just forgets the Sultansworn exist and they have no bearing on the MSQ the way the other factions in Ul'dah do. Not even in the finale of ARR's arc where it would make sense. Gladiators are a constant in other side quests and MSQ both.

Stormblood Paladin is also fine--because it goes back to those Gladiators, and we interact with Paladins and Knights across the realm, and deal with those complicated relationships between the Gladiator guild core members. It's internally logical in its drama about finally restoring Aldis's reputation and place in Ul'dah, against the backdrop of the tournament.

Heavensward Paladin straight up makes no sense. Solkzaygl's actions are entirely contradictory to his character and arc from ARR. There's no way for some of the actions to occur without him working with the outlaws in some way. Instead of teaching Constaint, he sends him on a merry chase across Coerthas to learn on his own, and it's only the WoL's aid that sees the boy live, let alone make progress. A random man dies, guilt-ridden, due to Solk's scheming and lies he confided to this poor guy.

And then Highlander-esque "there can be only one" nonsense. Even as a Highlander fangirl in my youth, it was insulting and awful. Papashan, Jenlyns, and Constaint all call out how nonsense, illogical, unlikely, and stupid this whole story is...all to make a sword shine.

Because there's no internal logic to events, let alone the reason for the string of happenstance that leads to the finale.

And we know it's possible; HW Blacksmith gives us a fantastic paladin story! One that fits Ishgard's storyline and HW's themes. HW Dark Knight is also a good paladin story, actually, as they are meant to be another angle on the concept of dedicated knight defenders. Samurai for the Eastern equivalent, and the concepts and tropes present in those quest chains.

But the job actually bearing the name "Paladin" is left in the dirt. As a fan of the concept across various games (video and TTRPGs both), it's quite frustrating how the devs had no idea what to do with this job, despite other members of the writing and scenario team presenting stories that would have fit perfectly well within the framework. Only some of it is misplacing where Paladins originate in the setting; the rest is not taking advantage of the themes and setting of the expansions, and just not caring enough about the characters and story to even try, compared to the rest. Or worse, they did try, and meant for more, but whatever intrigue and complex plot they wanted to create was too much for 5 quests and no guarantee the arc would continue in the future, even if it had landed perfectly.

[mcskullmun]

Finished listening to red valley season 3 and now have Context for Aubrey waking Warren up and what the whole debrief process there could look like. Just a handful of dialogue between them because I need to process the absolute Shit At High Velocity + Rapidly Spinning Fan combination that was season 3. ¡Major spoilers ahead!

Warren’s leaning back against the sofa of the cottage, still miraculously intact considering the fires that ravaged Red Valley also took out a good chunk of the surrounding forest. Aubrey is in the kitchen, standing over a microwave that hums dejectedly.

Given the circumstances of Warrens last “death” he wasn’t in any place to speculate about what the future might look like when he woke up, but… he looks around at the dusty walls and sun-baked wooden furniture of the cottage, the battered appliances and the patchy clothes Aubrey’s wearing… he would never have pictured this.

‘It’s like we went back 20 years. And got hit with a sandstorm…?’

‘Try 50’ Aubrey murmurs, ‘Or don’t. I pulled that number straight out of my arse’

‘Are you-‘

‘Okay? Haahaaaaa. It wouldn’t exactly be helpful to say “you weren’t there man” but really Warren, you weren’t there. Take all your direst climate change predictions and add “Vast amounts of corporate-targeted terrorism”. Every single high up hoity-toity jumped ship and tried to hit the skip button��

‘And?’

‘What was it Bryony said? “Premium Dead Forever”. Or I guess just dead dead now’

Warren sits upright on the sofa, frowning,

‘What was it like? I mean. You said people just got on with it’

Aubrey wanders into the living room, 44 years of hell written all over her face,

‘It was bad, Warren. A lot of people did some… did some bold things’

She sits down heavily, but tilts her head at Warren’s expectant gaze,

‘You’re staring at me. Look, I’m not about to give you a history lesson because frankly I think it would change this dynamic irreparably and I don’t want to relive the worst forty years of my life. A Lot of people died. Famine, war, fires. The end of the world. It’s not… most countries are still intact. Corporations… ehhh. Aldi made it’

‘That’s… a relief?’

‘Oh. And tumblr. It’s a place now? Or a cult I guess. The internet was patchy for a while’

‘Less reassuring. I’m sure Gor- I- I’m sure Gordon will be relieved’

‘I didn’t keep you two alive for 40 years to have Mr Porlock join a cult’

‘If… if he wakes up I’d cut him some slack. Let a man join a cult if he wants to. It’s 2064’

Aubrey’s frown softens, ‘Of course. After you two are done healing you’re free to do whatever you choose. Red Valley holds no power over you anymore’

‘Th- uh yeah. Thank you’

Warren leans back into the sofa again, deflating under the weight of that realisation. In at least a sense of the word, he’s free.

[thana-topsy]

Twenty-Two

Hadvar and Ralof have to work together to escape Helgen. [Read it on AO3]

[Part 1] [Part 2]

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

He read the name from the list:

“Ralof of Riverwood.”

The words felt unreal leaving his mouth, as if spoken by someone else. The moment he had seen Ralof on the cart, the blood had drained from his face and the bottom had dropped out of his stomach. No, gods. Not like this. He had been prepared to meet Ralof in battle, perhaps even to die by his sword. But not like this… 

Hadvar looked up to meet Ralof’s eyes, wondering what he might see—fury, anger, regret? He wasn’t prepared to see righteous determination. A man proudly and willingly facing his own death. And for what? Hadvar wanted to lunge forward and grab him by the shoulders, shake him. ‘Why!?’ he wanted to scream at the man he once called his best friend. ‘Why would you throw your life away for a traitor!?’ 

But he stood still, frozen in place, quill in hand poised to check the name off his list. Ralof lifted his chin and looked away, turning to walk towards the headsman. One hundred words rose and died behind Hadvar’s teeth. He cleared his throat and called the next name. 

—

The shriek of the dragon’s shout faded as Hadvar shoved his shoulder against the door of the fort, barring it with shaking hands. He fell back against the wood, breathing heavily, sweat stinging his eyes. He could smell his own singed hair, his right arm pulsing hot with burns. How had things gone from bad to worse to catastrophic, all within twenty minutes. 

This was a nightmare. The work of Vaermina. 

Hadvar wanted to wake up.

He took a moment to gather his wits, the world spinning dizzily around him. A dragon had attacked Helgen. A dragon. A creature so powerful that it could warp reality with a single word. How was he supposed to live in a world where dragons roamed the skies? The civil war suddenly seemed so small and pointless.

The fort shuddered around him, loose rocks falling from the walls and ceiling. 

He smacked his own face then beat a fist against his chest with a growl. “Think, Hadvar, think!” Scour the fort for resources; create an exit plan. 

The fort had three exits, but they all led back out into the chaos. He could sit in the fort and wait for the dragon to leave on its own, but the idea made him feel like a coward. That, and as the fort shook with another rumble, the survival rate of that plan seemed slim to none. He glanced around the room—the barracks—and walked over to the first chest he saw, kicking it open. Spare uniforms. A bit of loose gold. He wasn’t even sure what he was looking for. He had his sword and his own two feet. He needed to move. 

He jogged from the barracks and into the adjoining chamber, running headfirst into two Stormcloak soldiers. 

There was an awkward pause in which the three of them simply stared at each other, then Hadvar took a stumbling step backwards, throwing his hands up in placation. “Wait, wait, don’t attack! Let’s just—”  

One of the soldiers let out a bellowing warcry, drawing his sword and sprinting towards Hadvar. 

His reaction was automatic, drilled into him from hours of training in the Solitude courtyards. He spun to avoid the attack while unsheathing his sword, then used the momentum to bring the sword down on the back of the man’s neck. It wasn’t a clean strike, but Hadvar felt the reverberation of the soldier’s spine cracking, blood arcing across his sword and knuckles. 

The soldier’s companion was already on him before he had time to recover, and he barely caught the downswing of her sword against his own. He threw her off balance with the force of his block and seized the opportunity to drive his sword into her chest, aiming for her heart. A quick death is a merciful death, came Captain Aldis’ voice in the back of his mind. 

The soldier looked into his eyes, her expression fearful, disbelieving. I’m sorry, he thought, but his jaw was clenched tight around the words. She coughed once, blood bubbling from her lips, then slid from his blade to the floor. 

It was over in a blink. Hadvar’s breathing was ragged, his heart pounding in his ears. He could hear the roar of the dragon outside as the fort shook around him. He had to get out, had to—

Another Stormcloak came jogging into the room. He looked down at the bodies on the floor, then to Hadvar as he readied his weapon.

It was Ralof.

All of the fight left Hadvar’s body like a candle extinguished in the wind, and he dropped his sword, dropping to his knees immediately after. “Ruh—” He couldn’t even say his name. 

Ralof was staring at him with unbridled rage in his eyes. Hadvar half-hoped he’d kill him.

“I tried—” Hadvar began, throat dry. “I tried to reason…” 

Ralof stared at him a moment longer, sword still at the ready, his lip drawn into a snarl. Finally, he spat on the ground, but sheathed his sword. “Aye,” he growled. “I heard as much.” He walked over and extended an arm, and Hadvar let himself be pulled to his feet. “Where was that mercy when you were sending me to the block, eh?”

“Those weren’t my orders,” Hadvar argued breathlessly, but it felt like a sorry excuse even to his own ears. 

“No, ‘course not,” Ralof grumbled. “Just doing whatever those Imperial dogs tell you to do, right?”

“Please, let’s not. We need to get out of here before the fort comes down around us. War be damned, that was a dragon, Ralof. A gods-damned dragon.”  

Ralof was looking into the middle distance, eyes unfocused. “Aye,” he said. “Never in my wildest dreams…” 

Hadvar took a moment to study his face. They hadn’t seen each other in over three years, and their last encounter had ended in an explosive argument that came to blows. Hadvar had walked away with a swollen and blackened eye, though he’d managed to break Ralof’s nose. He could see even now where it hadn’t quite healed right. 

“This fort will be swarming with Imperial soldiers,” Hadvar said. “We need to get you something different to wear. I found spare armor in the barracks—”

Ralof snarled at him. “I’ll be damned to Oblivion before I don Imperial armor!” 

“Think, Ralof! Forget your stubborn loyalties and think!” Hadvar took him by the shoulders. “Let’s get out of Helgen alive, first, yeah?”

The fort shook again, as if to remind them. Ralof’s scowl remained, but he nodded with a single jerk of his head. He glanced down at the bodies of his fallen comrades. “It pains me to leave them here. They deserve proper burials.” 

“If there’s anything left of the fort after this, I’ll see to it,” Hadvar promised. It was an empty promise, really, but a part of him genuinely wanted to keep it. 

They returned briefly to the barracks to exchange Ralof’s armor for that of an Imperial set, then made their way deeper into the fort. They encountered only a handful of other soldiers making their way through the fort, and, to Hadvar’s relief, none of them even spared Ralof a second glance. 

“Up ahead!” one shouted from the group down the hall. “There should be an exit that’ll put us out near the main gates.” 

Hadvar and Ralof jogged to catch up, but a massive CRACK shook the fort. Ralof lunged in front, throwing his arm in front of Hadvar to stop him right as the ceiling began to collapse. He turned and threw himself against Hadvar, toppling both of them to the ground and out of the way of the falling rubble. They coughed as the dust settled, and Hadvar felt his stomach twist at the sight of the blocked tunnel. 

“Guess we’ll have to find another way out,” he said. 

Ralof sighed, dusting off his skinned knees as he got to his feet. “Why in the name of Talos do you Imperials fight without breeches!?”

Hadvar let out a startled laugh, once more allowing Ralof to pull him to his feet. “That much we can agree upon, old friend.” 

“Easy, Hadvar,” Ralof warned, stepping away. “We are not friends. Not anymore.”

Hadvar’s heart squeezed painfully in his chest, and he clenched and unclenched his fists. “This way,” he said, beckoning Ralof to follow. “Hopefully there’s an exit further down.” 

They did not find an exit, but instead found a torture chamber. 

“Troll’s blood…” Ralof cursed under his breath. He turned slowly to look at Hadvar, rage clouding his features. “Hadvar… what in Oblivion is this?”

Hadvar was just as speechless, his eyes scanning the room. He knew these rooms existed, dappled across Skyrim in various forts. But beneath Helgen? “I—”

“Ah, did you boys come to watch or to help?” came a soft, wry voice. A man stepped out from behind a pillar, his dark eyes nearly black beneath his low hood. “Afraid we’re a little light on prisoners at the moment.” 

“There’s a dragon attacking Helgen!” Hadvar blurted. “We have to get out of here!” 

“Dragon?” the man repeated, sounding bored and dismissive. “Don’t be ridiculous.” 

“I’m telling the truth! We have to leave before it brings the fort down on our heads.” His gaze jerked to a body slumped in one of the cages. “Gods…”

“Oh him?” said the torturer, turning to look. “Don’t bother. Lost the key ages ago. He screamed for almost a full week before finally going silent.”

Ralof let out a bellow of rage, drawing his sword and charging the man. The torturer barely had time to look surprised before Ralof had buried his sword in his chest. He pulled back and shoved the man off his blade with a kick of his boot, spitting on the body before whirling on Hadvar. 

“These your men, Hadvar!?” he yelled. “Is this who you’re fighting alongside!?”

“I don’t associate with that man,” Hadvar said numbly. 

Ralof gestured to the crumpled figure with his sword, sending an arc of blood across the stone floor. “You wear the same uniform!” 

“This is war, Ralof!” he yelled back, his face and hands flooding with heat. “We’ve all heard about what Stormcloaks do with their prisoners! Are those your men? Eh?” He strode through the chamber with determination, wanting nothing more than to leave it behind him. “None of us have clean hands. Now let’s get out of here, if we can.”

He didn’t check to see if Ralof followed him, and a part of him didn’t care if he did, but he soon heard footsteps trailing behind him.   

The fort was massive, beyond what Hadvar could have imagined. To think this labyrinth had been beneath their very feet for all these years. They reached a final chamber that appeared to be a deadend until Hadvar heard the whistle of wind. 

“Hear that?” he said, holding up a hand to signal pause.

Ralof went silent, cocking his head to the side to listen. The rumble of the dragon fire had grown distant. The silence of the empty fort pressed in around them, interrupted by the strange whistle. “Sounds like a breach in the walls somewhere,” Ralof said. 

They scoured the perimeter, finding a drawbridge, and beyond that, a massive opening in the fort’s stone wall that led to a natural cave with a mountain fed river.

“If we follow the water, we may be able to find a way out of here,” said Ralof.   

Hadvar nodded. “Smart.”

Ralof gave him a scathing look. 

“I’m being genuine!” 

Grunting, Ralof ducked through the opening in the wall without sparing him another glance, and Hadvar followed with a sigh. 

After a harrowing trudge through the caverns, nearly being killed by giant spiders, sneaking past sleeping bears, and crawling their way up and out through a crack in the side of the earth, Hadvar and Ralof emerged into the daylight, blinking into the blinding sun like newborns. With barely any time to reorient themselves, the sound of the dragon roared overhead, and Ralof grabbed Hadvar by the shoulders and yanked him down to hide behind a large boulder. They watched the massive black beast fly off, roaring once more before fading into the distance. 

Hadvar gasped, pushing to his feet as realization dawned. “By the gods… It’s headed right for Riverwood! We have to go warn them!” 

“Out-run a dragon!?” Ralof argued. “Are you mad? We barely made it out of Helgen with our lives!”

“We have to do something! I’ll go to Whiterun. Alert Jarl Balgruuf. He can send guards to Riverwood. At least they’ll have a fighting chance—!”

“Hadvar, steady…” Ralof said. He’d gotten to his feet, shoulders slumped with exhaustion. “Steady,” he repeated, reaching out to take him by the shoulders. “By Talos, you haven’t changed a bit, have you?”

Hadvar blinked back at him, startled by the observation. He suddenly felt like a teenager all over again, long-buried emotions clawing their way to the surface of his mind. Ralof’s expression was almost wistful; sorrowful. Hadvar reached out to grasp Ralof’s shoulders in return, his hands shaking. “You haven’t either, you know.” 

To his surprise, Ralof smiled and let out a bitter laugh. He closed his eyes and leaned forward, sliding his hand to cup the back of Hadvar’s head, and brought their foreheads together.

Hadvar gripped the edge of Ralof’s cuirass, squeezing his eyes shut as he let out a shuddering exhale. He’d almost witnessed his friend’s execution. Almost took part in it. Now, in light of everything that had followed, he wasn’t sure if he’d have been able to live with himself had it been seen through.

I’m so glad you’re alive, he thought, but the words wouldn’t come.

Ralof pulled away and Hadvar reluctantly let his hands slide from his shoulders.

“We should probably split up,” Ralof suggested.

“You’re probably right…”

Neither of them moved. Hadvar swallowed, then opened his mouth to speak.

“Maybe—” Ralof spoke first. “We should go together to Riverwood. Split up from there.” He looked down at his Imperial armor. “Besides, I can’t go waltzing up to the nearest camp dressed like this.” He froze, eyes darting to Hadvar once more. “That is, unless you plan to take me as your prisoner.” 

Hadvar let out a breathy, nervous laugh. “My friend, a dragon just attacked Helgen. I’m not worried about taking prisoners right this moment.” His stomach dropped, realizing he’d once again referred to Ralof as his ‘friend’. 

But Ralof didn’t comment on the slip-up. He simply turned his eyes back to the sky. “Aye,” he agreed. “Strange times ahead, no doubt.” 

Hadvar swallowed. 

“No doubt,” he agreed.

[raedear]

"Nicky? Nicky di Genova? Is that you?"

'Nicky? Nicky di Genova? Is that you?'

'Not on Wednesdays,' replied Nicky, without thinking, and without looking up from the tomatoes he was considering.

'I'm…sorry?'

Blinking, Nicky looked up.

A vaguely familiar man with a thick beard was staring at him.

'No,' said Nicky, 'I'm sorry. Work joke, I'm tired. Yes, I'm Nicky. Can I help you?'

He really was very familiar. He got more familiar when his mouth twisted at the corner and his expression became more uncomfortable with every second. He opened his mouth to speak, but Nicky beat him to it.

'Joe al-Kaysani.'

Joe looked relieved for a split second, before looking more uncomfortable than ever.

'Yeah,' he said, slowly. 'Yeah, it's me. How…how have you been?'

Fifteen years ago Nicky walked away from Joe and promised himself he wouldn't think about him again. He hadn't been hugely successful; thoughts of their last conversation tended to haunt him as he tried to fall asleep, one of several crushingly embarrassing memories he couldn't quite shake. In his memories though, Joe was a weedy teenager with a patchy beard and adolescent acne.

The Joe standing in front of him was a man grown; tall and strong and beautiful.

And Nicky was in Aldi on his one day off wearing his scruffiest jeans and a beanie to cover the fact he hadn't showered yet.

'Good,' said Nicky, faintly. 'I've been… I've been good. You?'

'Good,' said Joe, too quickly. 'Yeah. Things have been…good.'

There was a long, intensely awkward silence. Nicky was starting to crush one of the tomatoes in his hand, but he couldn't seem to stop.

'I saw the posters,' Joe said eventually. 'For your concerto series? The royal Albert hall is a beautiful venue. Did you… did you go to-?'

'The royal academy,' Nicky said, through Joe's stuttering question. 'I did, yes. Did you go to Julliard, in the end?'

A muscle twitched in Nicky's jaw. He knew Joe saw it; could see how Joe's eyes lingered on it.

'I did.'

The world of professional classical musicians was vanishingly small, but by virtue of their different instrument families, Nicky had managed to avoid Joe professionally all this time. He knew though, that Joe had been successful in bridging the gap between classical and modern violin, and his tours continually sold out. Andy had accompanied him a few times.

The silence thickened between them again. Joe looked painfully uncomfortable now, and Nicky knew his own face well enough to know that his expression was stony and cold in his embarrassment.

'It was…nice to see you,' Nicky said eventually, when he couldn't take it anymore. It didn't feel great to have to walk away from Joe in humiliation again, but he'd survived it once before. He could do it again. 'Goodbye, Joe.'

Nicky dropped the slightly bruised tomatoes in his basket and started to walk away, already restructuring his shopping list in his head to account for having to blanch and cook the tomatoes sooner than he expected.

'Nicky—Nicky wait,' Joe said, moving suddenly. He grabbed Nicky's arm gently to stop him, and dropped it immediately when Nicky looked at him sharply. 'Sorry, I'm sorry, please just—wait.'

'What.'

'I just,' Joe stopped, swallowed hard. 'I… I wanted to apologise to you. I've wanted to for a long time.'

Nicky blinked at him. Joe carried on, but there was a ringing in Nicky's ears he couldn't hear over.

'No,' said Nicky, interrupting whatever Joe was trying to say. 'No, thank you, but no. That's not necessary.'

'Nicky—' Joe looked stricken, but Nicky had had enough humiliation for a lifetime.

'Goodbye, Joe.' Nicky said again, stressing the words.

Joe's eyes shone, even under the shitty supermarket lights, but Nicky was done. He turned and walked away without another word, leaving Joe firmly in the past.

Keep in mind you asked for this when you're cursing my name

Part one

Part three

Send first line prompts here

[harrison-abbott]

THOMAS

Thomas had to get up and go to work down at Aldi. At 7 a.m., for an 8 a.m. start. He felt pretty grim. But he had to do it. His hair seemed to look worse in the mornings, his skin too: there was something toxic about the new daylight through the bathroom window that combined with the mirror reflection. He used to feel decent about his looks, but not so much anymore.

He got the bus and went down the motorway and passed the depressed housing estate that never seemed to have any people walking through it – as if the windows were all blank and had nobody living in them.

Then he got off at Aldi, and this slick of hatred went through him, but it was just what he was doing with his life. He went around the back of the building, and through the staff door, then up to the staff room. When inside the staff room he found Olga who was doing something fantastical with her blonde hair. She was one of the prettiest colleagues he’d ever worked with and there was a sad longing whenever he saw her. Thomas said hello. Olga smiled, falsely, and responded, “See you downstairs,” in her tinny accent.

Thomas changed into his uniform. The label said MADE IN BANGLADESH and he remembered that story in the news about how when 600 people died in the collapse of a factory, making clothes such as this. Thomas didn’t expect Aldi in Scotland to blow up and kill all 50 people inside.

Downstairs he went and his role for the morning was on the checkouts. At eight o’clock people started coming in. They were usual fellows and ladies who lived locally who he saw almost every day and it was weird that he was so familiar with them facially but knew nothing about them. They were polite in a robotic way.

The traffic boomed outside through the huge windows, as this was one of the largest motorways in the city. After 09:30 it died down a bit.

At 10:00 this chap, also a local, came in to buy beer. He often came in in the mornings to buy cheap beer. And Thomas often served him. Thomas understood how addictive alcohol was and he didn’t judge the man, because he was just a man. And Thomas probably drank more than this person did; so there was a mix of sympathy for him, and a sense of warning, that his own health issues might lead to all out disaster one day. The man left with a cheery bye. And it was quiet for a couple of hours in the store.

Until the high school kids, from up the road, came in in their Halloween black outfits. This was when the security guard got all prickly and when the noise levels zoomed up. The kids were high on adrenaline that they’d been let free from school.

Thomas remembered high school and it was no doubt the worst period of his life. It was as if, at that age, everybody attacked you from all sides, when you were at your most vulnerable. When you were a boy, adults treated you in a pleasant way: when you were a teen, adults seemed to have this aggression for you that you never understood. Why was that? Because they recalled being treated by their parents in the same way when they were a similar age?

The diet most of the kids followed was awful. Some of them didn’t even get anything savoury – they only bought gelatine sweets or bars of chocolate.

The girls were brittle thin and the boys thumped each other whilst smiling, as they waited in the queues for Thomas to serve them. At the back of the store was the snacks aisle, where the boys often stole stuff, and so the security guard was stationed around there.

Mo, by the way, was the security guard’s name. Thomas found him a rather sad man, who despised this job, but who put up with it rather well considering he had to stand around all day and be threatening. When Mo wasn’t an aggressive man at all and didn’t want to be here. Mo was maybe twenty years older than Thomas and whenever they spoke Mo talked about his wife in a fond manner. So at least he had a woman he was obviously in love with.

Today, the schoolkids didn’t steal anything and when they all left it was quite the relief in terms of volume.

Then there was another lull for a few hours. Until it got to early evening time, when a whole host of adults came in. Coming home from work. They were miserable and tired. Often they bickered with each other in the queues, because they wanted to buy their stuff and go home. They smelled of cigarettes and sweat and their faces winced under the white overhead lights. Thomas scanned the items as fast as possible because he knew that if he was slow then it would incense the crowd.

But the whole scene passed without incident tonight. And by 7 p.m. or so it’d gotten quiet again.

At 8 p.m., Olga went home. She always took her hairband off when she finished work and it swished around her neck … glorious. And she waved bye with her dainty hands.

Thomas was on duty until 10 p.m., when the shop closed. So only two more hours to go. There was a sense of elation at this time of the night, getting close to the finish line. Around 9 p.m., some customer dropped a carton of milk. By mistake, and the milk spewed all over the floor.

It was Thomas’ duty to go and mop it up. And put up a DANGER, WET FLOOR sign. It was, actually, properly dangerous, because he’d seen people, in this very store, slip up on the wet floors and land quite badly. So he was careful about the task, as if it’d been his fault that the milk was dropped in the first place.

But then it came to ten o’clock, and the night was full and gorgeous outside. Thomas could finally go home.

[monty-glasses-roxy]

I. Can't prove the theory now. I was under the impression from the wiki summary that the Storyteller built its own body and that body was Tiger Rock, which meant if the two dipshits were killed by the Storyteller then it would have been Tiger Rock that did it...

Except they die of stupid and that's fucking it. The tiger isn't even a fucking tiger. Why they got a bust and four arms in their neck specifically if they're a fucking oversized nightlight from Aldi are you kidding me what is this

And who let this author have a thesaurus and a book of Scrabble words to piss people off so much they'd never play again?? What's a concourse?? A fucking FRISSON!!! HOI POLLOI????? SNAFU I CHOOSE YOU!!! For gods sake don't let this guy know about crosswords they'll forget what the sun looks like. I bet this is the guy that decided "Utili-dor" was a reasonable thing to name a corridor to Sewerhell.

And the big fucking tree????? In the main atrium???? Presumably????? In front of the stage????? Giant ass 75 foot tree????? Why.

I do love the honesty though. Like. For some reason Mr Burrows refers to himself as Mr Burrows, but oh wow he's so relatable I mean he says "How could I be so stupid?" like YEAH MAN I'VE BEEN WONDERING THE SAME THING ABOUT YOU THIS WHOLE TIME WOW IT'S LIKE HE'S JUST LIKE ME FOR REAL

Lmao actually though this is so fucking funny. Guy sees Freddy get in a tug of war with a little girl that has a plush of an old version of Freddy, lose that tug of war and then go cry in the corner about it and is like "oh okay I'll just go kill that guy I don't like I'm sure that'll fix it!" Then dies to his own Stupid. I should read the whole thing I'd love to see more about the completely unnecessary nature of literally all of this and also to see where the 'tiger' thing came from like bro what

Speaking of unnecessary!!!

Can someone that knows more about tech explain this one to me?

(ID in alt)

Like. Legitimately, this just feels like he's asking to die to his own Stupid. I don't know enough about tech stuff to know if an oxygenated room is going to affect processors and shit compared to an unoxygenated room so... I'm asking if this is an actual Thing or if it's just this one guy being extra Stupid so he can die of bigger Stupid.

And I fucking LOVE that he asked some guy called Sebastian to stop every single function a human can make in the tree from working and put all control in a remote control that this one guy has... That he goes in without so he can die of Stupid. Bro really had one goal in life and that goal was to die of Stupid after being very funny and Stupid. I didn't even read the whole story and now I want to specifically to see the extent of this guy's Stupid.

I wanna make a post tomorrow that's just. Mr Burrows' Stupid Compilation. I think he deserves it. For being so fucking Stupid I've started capitalising the word Stupid in reference to him.

Anyway, every cool thing I thought was going on in the Storyteller was wrong, but I got Some Fucking Guy out of it so I guess I'm still winning lmao

[miidnighters]

miidnighters

independent supernatural oc multimuse | selective

activity notice as at 12 Aug

learn guidelines | muses | writer 

interact open starters  | prompts

mobile summary

mun + rules

Hi I'm Possum or Poss, she/her 30+, Australian. My rules/about pages are more detailed, but the crux of it is don't be a dick, standard RP etiquette, I'm online pretty much all the time so responses vary from being Very Fast or queued, smut only w ppl I connect with ooc.

muses

Barty FC: Aldis Hodge/Vondie Curtis-Hall

Immortal 'Time Vampire'; and can manipulate time Based in Florida Runs a sanctuary-like Cafe Been around since the dawn of time - can change his face to something older when he's Feeling It Make sure you hit him up on Insta - it's no secret he's been pictured existing for years

Bella Rose FC: Clare Bowen

372 (looks 22-25 ish) Vampire British based in New York Enjoys cosy nights in & feeding on men in clubs. Does Not look like a predator. Misses the sunrise so fills her apartment with colour

Billie García FC: Zión Moreno

135 (looks 28ish) Vampire New York Sired by Bella Rose after being injured in WW1 Native language is Spanish Writes smutty books; often has nasty smut scenes drafted in her notes app

Callisto Jones FC: Georgie Flores

24 Witch New York Runs her family's Apothecary (fifth generation), sells spells on the side. Will not get in cars. Visibly scarred. Not a morning person - get her a coffee; stat

Flynn Hunter FC: Colton Ryan

22 in human years Beached selkie Portland, Maine Can only see in darkness, otherwise blind Eyes shine in the light Studying music production

Hartley Greer FC: Margot Robbie

32 Supernatural hunter (tired - maybe it's time to retire?) Originally San Francisco, now wherever Freelance fashion writer Extra feminine as a fuck you to the father who wanted sons Here for a good time not a long time

Isaac Norman FC: Mike Vogel

35 Mutant/Gifted Human Kentucky Runs the family apple orchard Can talk to plants Southern boy/Society boy/Mama's boy

Lulu Sutton FC: Jane Levy

26 Were-shifter Australian, currently in America Shifts into a dingo at will & on full moons Environmental scientist Dresses like she stepped out of a 90's catalogue

Morgan Lewis FC: Christian Byers

32 (looks 28) Cursed human Nebraska Died once, now that's off the table Artisan glass blower Tells other immortals he's a vampire rather than explain the whole curse thing

Pls make sure to read the full bios when you can bc there's a lot more detail in there and links to verse pages etc <3

[antiqua-lugar]

Do you have any tavs and if so tell me about them!

Hi! Thank you so much for your ask and sorry if it took me a bit, I had to grab screenshots and make sure I did not write way too much.

Without further ado, these are the main three featured on my blog as they are the ones I got at least to Act 2 with:

Caradoc Howell

My main and favourite Just Some Guy. He’s a Wild Sorcerer Mephistopheles Tiefling who works in a grocery shop near the Upper City where he does a bit of everything but mostly errands and “special orders”, aka anything rare or difficult to find in the Lower City that is not really illegal - think less “rare poison” and more “my master wants pheasant for dinner what the fuck am I supposed to do now”.

Basically, what if your Tav was Just Some Guy working at Aldi.

As you can imagine everything after being tadpoled was absolutely wild to him but he got through it by the power of Having Worked In Customer Service his Charlatan background. He even got a delightful husband out of it! Whose ex is the Goddess of Magic. It’s fine. They are both Just Some Guys (Who Saved The World) now.

And who regularly go on adventures for anything Gale really needs for his research with their friends. And Arabella, who might or might not be a Chosen of Silvanus, keeps crashing at the tower. And Lae’zel definitely got them to the Astral Plane for a visit. And Gale is doing an impressive job of teaching Caradoc how to use his magic and now he is way better than he was when they fought the Netherbrain.

But still! Just Some Guys!

Elendris Galaadon

A Sun Elf who discovered his love for blacksmithing when he was fifteen and never turned back. He disappointed everyone in his House by moving to Baldur’s Gate to learn from dwarves and gnomes and also getting married at barely one hundred year old to another one hundred year old elf. Look, it was True Love!

They got divorced by the time they were one hundred and fifty and he came out of that thinking that he was fundamentally broken and truly incapable of loving anything except his craft and his workshop - and his people who work there. Everything else can go fuck itself. He spent twenty years barely getting out of his workshop until he got tadpoled.

He is now learning that caring about others is Good, Actually, if nothing else because if he doesn’t it might have repercussions about people and things he does actually care about. His morality is still a work in progress as we reach Act 3 and his decision to not ascend Astarion is still mostly motivated by the fact that he really likes children (including children that are vampire spawn) and he really loves Astarion and doesn’t think that would have made him actually happy. Oh and killing seven thousand people is bad, they say.

Cedric (no surname because he forgot)

Cedric’s parents died when he was around six, he run away from the orphanage when he was seven and got extremely lucky to be noticed by a Dragonborn Druid who immediately took him in when he saw him talking with the local cats. They were supposed to move together to a groove outside Baldur's Gate once his teacher's work in the city was done, but he got murdered when Cedric was sixteen.

Since his only skills were healing, talking to animals and turning into a huge wolf, he fell into criminal work. The fact that he is now one of the kind of people who probably murdered his parents and definitely killed his teacher does not escape him and he is now a pretty closed off and apathetic twenty five year old.

Being tadpoled has been a blast and not only because he gets to turn into a cat and jump on everyone’s lap (especially on Lae’zels).

And the rest

Those are the main six Tavs I developed playing around the character’s creator or with my other Tavs’ backstories. Very quickly: 

Ves’i’ran is a Gythianki ranger that after a rite of passage gone Very Wrong got to spend all of five minutes in the Astral Plane before being sent back to Faerun to scout for mindflayers activities and ships. He wants to be loyal but he also has very much been going native. Also the only woman he ever loved was probably murdered when she tried to flee to the githerai.

Illiambaste is an ex-Eilistraee acolyte turned Assassin Folk Hero after she found out the full story behind her father’s escape from Menzoberranzan. He risked everything to bring her with him when he escaped and she wants to live up to his example.

Kava and Felix are Caradoc’s best friends back in Baldur’s Gate and now it’s their turn to get tadpoled! Kava is a Bard who takes her profession and her duty as storyteller and collector of tales Very Seriously and who takes pride in her found family of various contacts and networks all over the Storm Coast (and beyond!) (she's definitely not doing any spy work on the side!). Felix is a Vengeance Paladin who grew up in the Underdark and decided that enough was enough when he and some of his people got kidnapped by the Duergars to be slaves. Once rescued he booked it to Baldur’s Gate where he became a baker because he has terrible insomnia so what does he care about working nights.

Havelock is a noble Half Drow Cleric of Selune born of an illicit affair between a patriar and the eldest daughter of a Matriarch who did not need more males so they immediately shipped him back to Baldur’s Gate thinking maybe they could get some future political leverage out of it. His father did look after him but there is no love lost between them and high society was not kind to him. His father’s wife however always loved him and she is the one supporting his political career. He had quite a temper when he was young and did punch one nobleman in the face when he was fourteen (now he would simply blackmail them into submission). 

Finally, my Cleric of Kelemvor. She loves fighting. She is very fucking tall. I don’t know yet why it’s so important to her that everyone is granted the peace of eternal sleep. 

[dazzlerazz]

i wanna know about your ocs 👀

VAR??? IN THE ASKBOX???

Aight well for now I got that fe3h house I've mentioned occasionally

I call them the Violet Vipers, because I like Violet and I like snakes, shut up

It's supposed to be a House just for commoners specifically, only one of them has a crest and that's only because she's a VERY distant relative of the Gloucester bloodline (Crest of Gloucester of course)

Everything below the cut sgfdfdoghbdfodpdsajiofkbjdf

(edit, VERY long post incoming)

So for more information on the house:

The church decided it wanted to bring in more students from all over, specifically commoners, to gain favor with the general populous. The Violet Vipers are having their first year, the year that the game takes place in The Vipers are very church-aligned, and if they had a "canon" path, it'd be Silver Snow, specifically for my house leader (more on her in just a second) A mass letter of sorts was sent out, and that's how students are picked. Students are still required to pay tuition, but because of their commoner status, they can take loans from the church. This is only so I can make Student Loan Debt jokes

For students, we have:

Ciel Izaac Aldis, the House Leader

Ciel was born a commoner in the Kingdom, but her family would travel around occasionally. She used to visit a church in the kingdom and showed extreme promise and skill. About a year before the start of the game, she was contacted by the Central Church who asked her if she would be the House leader for the commoner trial house. Ciel spent a year in Garreg Mach, leaning from the professors and training under them. She gained a special fondness for Rhea, because she was the person who made this all happen. After Ciel graduates from the Officers Academy, she is expected to become a student helper there, and then soon become a Professor But she doesn't actually want to be a Professor. This is just what is expected of her, she wants to make her family proud. She was gifted a wonderful opportunity, she shouldn't squander it. She THINKS becoming a professor is what she wants, but in a few of her supports she admits that it isn't

Chloe Gloria Benjamin-Frowe, the Retainer

Chloe is the only daughter of a merchant family from Fhirdiad, her family is very very rich. She has three older brothers and two younger ones, who kind of coddle her some. Chloe is very spoiled, she'd probably be good friends with Hilda. Chloe occasionally expects people around her to remind her to do things. She and Ciel became good friends at the class trip camp (like the one at the start of Hopes that's mentioned in Houses). They become very very close over the course of the game Chloe wanted to go to the Officers Academy just because she could. She didn't want to become a knight, she just wanted to go because it sounded fun. She's currently engaged to the minor noble of the kingdom, their wedding will take place after graduation. She's excited, but is this really what she wants? When the war kicks off, her engagement is put on hold until after the war. In her solo endings, she will be married to them

Silvestre Garrit

Silvestre was born to a mistress of some random guy in Hevring territory. When his mother realized she was pregnant, she fled to live with her sister in Alliance territory, where Silvestre was born. When Silvestre's father realized he had a child - because it was unlikely he would even be able to have one - he got into contact with Silvestre's mother and demand she send him back to Hevring territory Silvestre's father was always obsessed with the nobility and crests, he was a relative of nobles after all. He was most obsessed with the Hevring family, he idolized them. When Silvestre was 7, his aunt died in a bandit attack, and his mother couldn't provide a good life for him without her help. Reluctantly, she sent him to Hevring territory, to live with his father. Before he left, she gave him a small locket with a small portrait of the pair in it. As soon as Silvestre was in the care of his father, said father immediately cut all contact with Silvestre's mother, basically kicking her out of Sil's life completely. When Silvestre's father heard of the new commoner trial house, and that Linhardt von Hevring, the heir of Hevring, was attending the Academy, Silvestre's father knew right then that he had to get his son into the academy. He did everything in his power to get an offer from the Church, going so far as to steal the chance from another commoner of student age in the empire. Silvestre can't confirm he did this, but he suspects as much. While Silvestre was growing up, his father would constantly compare him to the Hevring heir. "Linhardt can do this, why can't you?" "The Hevring heir could do this better." Because of this, Silvestre gained a bad habit of constantly comparing himself to Linhardt, and it only got worse when they were schooling together

Ivor Riskin Foucher

Ivor was born in the same town that Silvestre lived in, in fact, they were childhood friends. Ivor was born to a single mother who died at his birth, but he was soon adopted by his two fathers When he and Silvestre were around 12, Ivor attempted to do magic, but a magical accident left him with scars all long the palms of his hands, miasma burns. He can do magic, but now it causes him extreme pain to do so. As a magic unit, his dialogue would change to grunts and groans to show this. Ivor works best when he's punching things however, at the core he's a brawling unit. When Ivor heard that Silvestre was getting into the academy, he showed interest in going as well, and his fathers agreed. Ivor's a big ol softy, literally. He's 6'4 and continues to grow, and will comment on this in passing. Another line of dialogue for him that I like it "Risk is my middle name! No, really, my middle name is Riskin."

Everett Wayne Heymer

Everett has lived on the streets ever since he could remember. along with his older sister. When Everett was still a toddler, a bishop of the church found them, and took them both in. After a year of living in the church, Everett was adopted out to the Heymer family (not canon) in Gideon territory, but his older sister was left behind and eventually became a bishop of the church herself Everett wanted to find his sister. As he grew up, he never stopped looking. He contacted churches, mayors, even other regions, but got nothing. When news about the Viper House swept Fodlan, he decided to go there, as the Central Church was housed at Garreg Mach, he'd have a better time finding her. He didn't care about schooling, he just wanted to find his sister Only in his solo ending will he ever actually find her Everett is an artsy student, he carries a sketchbook around with him wherever he goes. He's a fan of stuffed animals, he even has a teddy bear he keeps in his room. He's very shy, and prefers to be in places where the least people are

Juniper Eloise Ilberd

Juniper was born the only child to a couple in Gloucester territory. Before you ask, yes, she’s the one I mentioned earlier Her bloodline is a very very distant relative of Gloucester. In fact, it was thought no crests would ever show themselves ever, but here she is, born with one. When Juniper was 15, she was almost murdered. An assassin was sent after her, but she was able to survive and get away. Ever since then, she’s been hyper paranoid, and has been held up indoors most of her life and she’s never left home after dark. The stress of this event tore her parents apart, or rather, it was the straw that broke their camel’s back. They separated quickly, as they were never married. Juniper was bounced back and forth between their two houses, her parents were constantly fighting with each other. She was living with her mother when the news about the new trial house was sent out, and she decided to apply JUST so she could get somewhere else, away from the fighting. She thought that it would be the safest place in all of Fodlan, with so many knights there It’s implied that Count Gloucester sent this assassin after her because her existence was a threat to Lorenz becoming the next Count, somehow, but tbh this idea is a bit wobbly after Hopes’ release (yes, this was all thought about before the release of Three Hopes) She was two different paths depending on the Three Houses or Three Hopes universe, because yes, I made an entire other universe for Three Hopes. In Three Houses, she buddies up with Shamir and follows her around Fodlan. In Three Hopes, she becomes a knight under Lorenz, same as Ignatz

And now we have the last one, my favorite

Robin Galter

Robin’s origins are completely unknown. It’s not even stated on their student file where they’re from. Their birthday, their age, it’s all a mystery. They’re a fan of the stars, and love to go out at night to stargaze. While they’re in the Viper house, they tend to hang around Edelgard a lot. The two aren’t exactly friends, but they’re not strangers. Robin loves cats, one of their lost items is a cat toy that can be found in Felix’s room. They love the idea of going sailing, and have crafted small model boats, which is another possible lost item. They’re on course to become the most studious student of the academy to date, they do almost nothing but work and work and work. They’re not close with anyone, they don’t seem to have time for friends Their backstory is EXTREMELY long and would require a whole other post to get into, so I’m gonna cut off here. Let me know if you guys want that, I’d be happy to talk about them!

[residents-of-the-darkforest]

Grateful To Be In Hell (short story)

“Hey.”

Grousemane turned at Alderstar’s voice. “Hey, Aldy,” he greeted, giving Alderstar’s the nickname he knew the golden tom hated. He smiled in his usual cheeky manner, but it felt empty, and by the expression Alderstar gave him, it was visibly so. He had learned only yesterday that both his close friend and dear leader as well as his love–or at least love interest–were murderers and that they had killed who knew how many cats for fun. 

He had died as well, but that didn’t feel nearly as important. 

They had showed him around at his request, though he guessed their long trek only covered a whisker of the entirety of this place. After that, they had offered for him to den with them in a ditch with overgrown ferns, where they were ‘temporarily nesting until they found somewhere better.’ Grousemane had turned them down, needing time. His overjoy at having seen them both, safe and sound, had by then dissipated, and the situation settled in.

He spent that time sitting and staring into nothing, taking in his surroundings and letting all the features of rotting leaves and bloodied rocks sink in the reality of it all. He didn’t know how long he sat for, if Alderstar was able to get a full night–or whatever it is here–of sleep, or if it had only been a few heartbeats when he decided to check on Grousemane.

Alderstar came to sit beside him. “How is–uh–the news?”

“News,” Grousemane responded, unsure what else to say. It was unlike him to feel so empty of words. Normally he was the cheerful one, always cracking jokes and annoying everybody. But this was different. He was never close to their other Clanmates besides Hootpetal. That didn’t dismiss the fact that they were still his Clanmates, and he swore to protect them. 

Yes, he cared for Alderstar and Myrtlewing more–especially Myrtlewing, but it felt incredibly strange and wrong to now know that all the times those Clanmates were going missing or ‘leaving,’ they were really being murdered by cats who talked and hung out with him all of the time. Had they ever shared tongues with him right after killing someone else? Had they planned it while dozing beside him?

Through that, Grousemane still cared deeply for them, a fact that made the news all the more harder to bear.

“It wasn’t easy for me either when I learned,” Alderstar told him, guessing his thoughts.

“He killed first then?” Grousemane asked blankly. He wasn’t sure if he was surprised, if he had any more room for that feeling.

“For a long time,” Alderstar explained. “I only found out because I caught him. Then I killed someone right after, when she threatened to kill him for it.”

“And I thought I was protective of him,” Grousemane attempted a chuckle. Then it lowered. “I guess he never really needed that, huh?”

“Urges followed after that,” Alderstar went on after a pause. “And one day we began killing together. It felt good, it shouldn’t have, but it did.”

Grousemane was both horrified and grateful for his honesty. 

“I didn’t speak to him for a long time, though, that first day,” Alderstar said in a sigh. “I thought that if it was so easy for him to kill the Clanmates that trusted him with their lives, then he had no love in his heart at all. I was wrong. He does care for me, and he cares for you too. I don’t want you to waste time thinking otherwise, as I did.”

Grousemane didn’t want to think the worst of Myrtlewing, he didn’t. Myrtlewing had told him, sounding earnest, that he had never thought of killing him. But he also sounded earnest any time he wailed over failing to save an ailing Clanmate. As much as he didn’t want it to cloud his mind, doubt crept in. 

“Don’t,” Alderstar repeated, seeing the rain over his features. “If we didn’t care for you, we would have killed you the day we met, or any other time we had you alone. You’re our friend. Got that?”

Friend. 

“And you two?” Grousemane asked. At Alderstar’s confusion, Grousemane pointed a paw to Alderstar, then in the direction of the ditch where Myrtlewing was presumably still sleeping, and back again, waggling his toes.

“Oh! Uh yeah, we are. Together. Yeah.” Alderstar couldn’t hold back a smile, looking like a young apprentice with his first crush. “Some moons ago it became official. Technically, though, a long time.”

“What about Hootpetal?” The she-cat was his mate. At least, that’s what everybody called them. Were they wrong?

“I love her too,” Alderstar replied quickly. “Maybe not as much, but I definitely love her. If I’m being completely honest, she started as a front. Cats would be less suspicious of Myrtlewing and I if it wasn’t just him I spent so much time with. Hootpetal was a good friend, so I figured that she, of all the warriors, would be most tolerable as a mate. Then….”

“Then you fell for her,” Grousemane finished.

“Yeah. Much like you fell for Myrtlewing.” He nudged Grousemane after Grousemane blinked. “Thought you could hide it?”

“I was never hiding it!” 

“I know. It was very clear.” They let a few moments of silence pass between them. “I think I loved her before then,” Alderstar spoke thoughtfully. “I don’t want to believe that I was using her feelings to look good in the eyes of everybody. If Myrtlewing weren’t….Just to make it clear. She was important to me before I asked her, and I really did want to be with her….” He snapped his jaws shut, realizing he was talking too much. 

Alderstar was never one to talk about his own feelings, except maybe with Myrtlewing and possibly Hootpetal, and he always got embarrassed when he registered that he was spilling.

“Does that mean he’s free for the taking?” Grousemane raised a brow, wanting to lighten the mood as well as tease his leader. 

“Absolutely not!” Alderstar growl-purred, cuffing Grousemane’s ears gently. “Are you coming back with us now, or would you rather stay out here in the cold?”

Grousemane tilted his head, indicating with his tail down a rise. “I saw some thorns over there. Maybe they would make for a good nest, if you’re not too worried about them messing with your precious golden coat.”

–

“Starlingkit, no! How many have I told you not to bite your sister’s tail?” 

Grousemane, laying on his nest in the den, grinned at Alderstar trying to settle the three rambunctious  kits. Although they were biologically Grousemane’s, Alderstar, Myrtlewing, and Hootpetal had all stepped in as co-parents, which was no surprise. They had previously raised....two litters, technically, if you counted Stonefern, Perchclaw, and Magpieshine as one.

Myrtlewing was sitting on the other side of the den, grooming Buzzardkit, who’s eyes closed blissfully every time the tongue dragged over his little head. Hootpetal was placing berries over the thorns that the kits could reach, replacing the old ones that had gotten squished in the kits’ games. 

Grousemane purred when Aspenkit squealed, hopping over him and burying herself in his fur while Dustkit searched for her. 

He was grateful for all of them. His mate, his dearest friends. The kits he had now and the kits he raised before. Who knew that joining the Place of No Stars would be the best decision of his life. Well….his afterlife.

==================

--Leaving on a cheesy note.

--AlderGrouse was the relationship people most wanted to see, so here you are!

[weightoftomorrow]

prompts: job mentors / soul crystal

Qahs'a and job states:

GLA/PLD oh this one is a hard one. He was probably willing to help Mylla out with Aldis, but clearly did not want to be a gladiator Gladiator. Taking down Alacrans is a thing in both GLA and PGL so that totally happened. Jenlyns though? Qahs'a turned and walked away from that guy when he started being intensely weird about Solkzagyl's job stone being "polluted" and how UNFORTUNATE he is to stuck being captain, and even if he stuck around to help save Jenlyns from himself, around 45 he'd have to walk away to not stab him in the head over the stupid ambush. Honestly, I assume he did some training with the Fortempses, but then Haurchefant died and traumatized him and now he has serious issues doing any Paladinny stuff without thinking about the Vault. If he has a job stone, it's from Ishgard, not Ul'dah.

MRD/WAR MRD is such a forgettable questline. There's no reason why Qahs'a wouldn't have helped Wyrnzoen and Sighard out, minus the having to wield an axe thing, but he'd probably be fine with it. Kujata's not really a threat at all. Warrior though? Qahs'a would probably be offended by Curious Gorge talking about "inner beast" to a Keeper of the Moon. He absolutely does not have the WAR job stone. I'm sure Ardbert is very annoyed about it, but he can't do much about it. Sorry Curious Gorge, I hope you resolved your rage issues solo.

DRK Oh boy. Look. I'm possibly the only one who plays XIV who really dislikes the 30-50 DRK quests. The English translation is like designed to make me, specifically, angry. Qahs'a wouldn't have gotten past level 40, let alone get to any other quests. I can easily see him having picked up DRK, but the story would've not been about "ohoho you're being EXPLOITED and you need to think only of yourself" but more about…. him being wildly depressed? He totally should do a DRK storyline about taking care of yourself when you're wildly depressed, but I am not good enough at writing to rewrite Esteem into that. And I really want him to have done 60-70 and plausibly the 80 quest. So he probably has a job stone, and gets along with Sidurgu and Rielle, and finds her being annoyed about needing to grow up faster so Sid stops treating her as babby is great, and he supports her, but 30 to probably 60 was wildly different in an unknown way.

GNB I play GNB. I think GNB is wildly out of character for Qahs'a. Going around with Radovan and Sophie and helping them out? Yes, he'd love to do it. Saving Cato Mammula? Yes definitely. But he's already supporting one nearly extinct art, and I think Radovan would appreciate that. Being able to understand Thancred's new job would be great. Radovan probably even gave Qahs'a the job crystal to practice with, but the explosions make him flinch hard.

CNJ/WHM Although he started as Lancer, he branched into Conjurer very early, as the only vaguely close thing he could do to follow in his mother's path. But it's really not, and I'm sure that the Padjals are continually rather… distant towards him, because Gridania still does have that prejudice, and he's very much a traditionally-raised Keeper. But he hasn't even tried to cast White Magic since the First turned all his spells to permanently Light-based. He's pretty freaked out about that. Definitely has a job stone, but he might leave it somewhere else nowadays, in case it's Light-poisoned and can spread to his other job stones. He's not sure if it's the job stone or him that's permanently Light-skewed (he's pretty sure it's him though).

SCH Sorry Alka Zolka. I desperately want him to have saved the Tonberries and done the Scholar questline, but uh. see ACN for details.

AST He picked up AST because he never got to see the stars much, growing up, and finds them fascinating. He kind of hates how intensely fate-based Leveva is, but keeps quiet rather than contradict her. He also doesn't get along well with Jannequinard, but, again, keeps quiet. I'm sure Janne likes Qahs'a significantly more than Qahs'a likes Janne, because Qahs'a almost looks Janne look good to Ishgardian society, comparatively speaking. Kyokuho makes Qahs'a feel quite uneasy, and he's not sure if it's jealousy or just Kyokuho's manner is what bothers him. After WHM got all Lighty, Qahs'a swapped to being AST more. He doesn't heal-focus much though, but he likes staring at the stars. That job stone is a tigerseye and you can't convince me otherwise, and I love tigerseye so Qahs'a probably does too. Seems the most likely job stone that someone would pull out and stare at (and turn to watch the chatoyancy). I feel like Urianger has tried to bond with Qahs'a over being a fellow Astrologian but Qahs'a keeps getting overwhelmed by Urianger's vocabulary.

look at this this is an ast job stone. https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/4/4c/Tigers_eye_chatometry.gif won't turn into an image because it's too big but go look to see the chatoyancy gif. i am off topic

SGE The major strike against Sage, besides the uh… intense academia vibes that Alphinaud constantly gives off is the intro. Qahs'a has experience with Sharlayan's attitude towards "fugitives who stole things". He does not condone Sharlayan's weird penchant for assassinations. Also, Lalah is kinda amazingly naive, and just gives some random guy this job crystal. On the other hand, Qahs'a probably went "yeah sure I'll help," and failed to tell Lalah he was aiming to help Loifa more than her. It all worked out in the end at least. So yeah, Qahs'a probably has the Sage job stone and just never uses it.

LNC/DRG Qahs'a walked into Gridania with not much more than a pitchfork and the clothes on his back (and a ring the guy in the carriage gave him), so he's definitely interacted a lot with Ywain. Foulques showing up to kill lancers for the crime of uh. not… being…. cool enough in his books…… sure did make Qahs'a unhappy. So he parted on good terms with Ywain, just in time to get flung into Alberic and Estinien's kinda fucked-up relationship. At least he gets to hold being an Azure Dragoon over Estinien forever. He also turned DRG into a tank-class during HW, but he's tapered off on it over time as he ramped up magicking.

RPR Drusilla is a little… brusque which would be a turn-off for Qahs'a. Making fun of some rich guy is a plus. The aesthetic, and letting someThing else from another reflection possess him is absolutely a dealbreaker. This makes him a hypocrite but I'm sure Ardbert doesn't need competition. So he doesn't have a job stone, and probably got rebuffed when trying to help anyway. Sorry Drusilla?

PGL/MNK Well. Hamon is…. a bit of a dick. Qahs'a probably doesn't like him. He likes Chuchuto tho, and helping Rururkuta get out is also a good thing. And I doubt he likes punching. So he's probably going to not really be interested in continuing. And then Erik is very condescending to anyone who isn't as "educated" as him (read: everyone. Qahs'a knows he's uneducated, Erik doesn't need to be a dick about it) and Widargelt is a mess in ARR so uh. yeah. Qahs'a does not become a monk. No jobstone for him.

SAM Oh SAM. Qahs'a is totally willing to go along with Musosai's thing and along to help out and help Momozigo. Some of the bits are a little odd but, I mean, he does worse things for random people in tiny settlements. The 60 quest though? Oh fuck no. Qahs'a hates everything about that quest. There is a very good chance he does not actually complete the 60 quest, and refuses to kill Musosai because suicide-by-Warrior-of-Light is pretty cruel to said warrior of light. So I guess he has the jobstone. Hates it though now. And Zenos also made it worse. Yeah.

ARC/BRD So Qahs'a is a traditional Keeper of the Moon. He absolutely knows how to shoot a bow (but does not have one because his older sister sucks). He gets along great with Leih. They probably stand in a corner and make fun of Silvarre and his claiming no one else can shoot a bow ever unless they are a giraffe. Luciane is amazingly not involved in the Archer questline, I don't know how they get along. I presume Pawah is more hostile to Leih considering that she's hanging out with some guy. Whatever, that questline ends. Qahs'a gets sent to Jehantel, stares at him going "yeah i'll teach you poetry" and probably walks away because like. Sorry, he's got a lot of other things on his mind besides poetry and song. Well. If he realized that he'd be able to retrieve the stolen job stone for him, he'd do that at least, but I still cannot picture him keeping it after. Jehantel wants an apprentice and Qahs'a cannot be that apprentice (especially later when he goes mute).

MCH This is the #1 questline I assume Qahs'a did as a different job. Stephanivien needs help, Qahs'a likes the Haillenartes (or at least Francel, and Laniaitte and Stephanivien are pretty nice too. Baurendouin is…. not), but Qahs'a flinches at loud noises and gun recoil so Steph probably gave him the job stone, watched him be unable to hit the broad side of a barn and gave up on teaching Qahs'a to gun-fight. Qahs'a is all for showing up dicks, especially Dzemael dicks, tho, so… somehow he helps out? Maybe he helps Joye out. Maybe just having The Saviour Of Ishgard on his side helps him out vs Tedalgrinche. No idea. I guess Qahs'a has the job stone in his pouch, but like… at the bottom, with GNB, mostly ignored.

DNC Considering the quest opener is "hey, you wanna perform?", Nashmeira lost him 5 seconds in. I wrote a drabble about just convincing him to Help and not Perform but…. I think convincing him to dance at all is kinda ooc. But you kinda need to dance to root out the dynamis so… I guess he has the job stone? At the bottom of the pouch tho. Also Ranaa is weird because she's a non-traditional, non-forest Keeper. He has no idea how to act around her.

NIN NIN is the job he tries at and fails, completely. He's very bad at hiding, for all that he doesn't talk. He fumbles mudras, even with a job stone to help him shape his hands. Yugiri thinks he's hilarious. He's glad he's funny at least. Karasu probably also finds him hilarious. Tsubame probably sees the humour in the situation, and Oboro tears his hair out about how bad this guy is at this. Very ridiculous dynamic.

THM/BLM Qahs'a was very happy to help Cocobuki et al. with Cocobusi. Cocobuki probably likes having Qahs'a around. But Qahs'a probably only wandered into the THM guild after picking up RDM, and I can't help but imagine they're a little snobby about things and this guy thinks he can cast thaumaturgy while a completely different job. Hmph. I think he likes the tribal black mages better than Lalai, and he really doesn't like Shatotto. Ququruka is just kinda. okay. idk what's up with that guy i don't really wanna learn more either. If he has a BLM job stone, it's more because he's a master Red Mage which automatically means he's good at Black Mage rather than any particular interest.

ACN/SMN ok so. Qahs'a is only partially literate. He can read. He cannot write, and he definitely doesn't do math. And he even more definitely doesn't do complex equations. He is not an arcanist, unless he casts entirely through instinct / just shoving aether through random equations on the page and hoping he doesn't set the book on fire. Thybyrgeim is probably very empathetic, K'lyhia probably is extremly unempathetic, and K'rhid, not that he's ever going to meet K'rhid, would probably just be very mocking. This guy is never casting math magic. So he's definitely never unlocking Scholar (he also would not do it just from the name) or Summoner (isn't that what you do to call primals? that sounds evil). He should be the best Summoner around and instead he cannot do the prerequisite. Sorry Y'mhitra and Rammbroes and Dancing Wolf an--

RDM Oh look it's his main. Um i mean. Qahs'a can't turn down a chance to help people. Especially can't stop helping children. X'rhun loves him. Arya loves him. These three are very close. Qahs'a adores that he shares a job with Alisaie, and has specifically chosen a rapier to match hers. Qahs'a never lets go of his RDM job stone.

BLU Oh no, Qahs'a really doesn't like Martyn. Every time Martyn does something to try to recover his reputation, he immediately tanks it again. Qahs'a is only here because the two Mamool Ja think Martyn is ridiculous. If Martyn hadn't actively shoved a job crystal into Qahs'a's hand to "prove" it's a real job, Qahs'a never would've picked it up. He likes to pretend BLU doesn't exist. I am permanently stuck on Blue Cheese though, so I'm never going to find out what 60-80 and beyond quests are about.

VPR and PCT are waiting on dawntrail. I'm pretty sure I can't play VPR from Yoshi-P's description tho.

In summary: job stones he actually owns and uses: RDM, DRG, AST. job stones he owns but ignores: PLD, DRK, GNB, WHM, SGE, SAM, MCH, DNC, NIN, BLM, BLU job mentors he gets along with: MRD DRK GNB AST SGE LNC DRG half of PGL NIN half of ARC MCH sorta DNC THM RDM neutral job mentors: GLA WAR RPR BRD ACN job mentors he does not: PLD CNJ WHM the other half of PGL and ARC MNK SAM BLM BLU job mentors he would like if he could meet them: SCH SMN

[autumnslance]

FFXIV Write 2023 Day 29: Contravention

Those weren’t her eyes that she opened.

It wasn’t her hand she raised to study. Not her body in the chair. Not her ears listening to Fandaniel’s capering explanation as something he claimed was Varis roared in another room.

It was her body in the chair, slumped lifelessly. If she could reach it, all would be right again, but Zenos was there—

That was not her face looking up at her. Not her smile. Not her eyes. Not once he took control.

She screamed.

—

Not her fingers numb and clumsy around the sword hilt. She knew how to fight with a longsword and shield, had practiced for bells. The body did too, she could feel the muscle memory wanting to respond, but it was sluggish, was stiff, was wrong…

As she desperately tried to defend against oncoming frenzied tempered, she randomly recalled the fight against the Alacran in the Quicksand long ago, Aldis calling instruction and advice, setting the example as his blade flashed. She recalled how it seemed to get easier and easier, once she fell into the rhythm Mylla had taught her, that Aldis repeated.

She pretended he was there now, laughing and cheering, giving those same instructions again, reminding her how to place the feet, when to swing from the shoulder, when to just use the wrist.

By the time she found the survivors trying to defend themselves from the tempered, the body was responding with remembered confidence, her control more certain. She could do this; she could use this form, chase after Zenos, save her friends—

—

Everything hurt.

Pain exploded through the body as she tried to make it move. It couldn’t stand. The stench of burnt ceruleum and charred flesh filled its nose, made it want to retch.

If she was herself, she could channel healing magics, could get to her feet and keep going…

If she was herself, she wouldn’t be crawling forward like this. Tears stung and filled the eyes, and she briefly wondered what color they were.

Zenos was in her body, and had to be halfway to camp by now. He wouldn’t fool them for long, but long enough to hurt, long enough to kill…

She kept dragging forward, letting the body weep from her frustration and fear, sobbing, the release fueling her motions, building her anger.

By some miracle, she found one of the medkits, its magic potions intact.

—

It was not her voice screaming at Zenos.

Not her body she slammed into her own, to stop him from hurting her friends.

He had so much more control over her form than she had on this one—how often had he violated the laws of nature to do this?

Didn’t matter. She didn’t care. What mattered was stopping him and getting herself back.

Was that him or her crouching before her dazed and useless form? She seemed to see both as vision swam.

Gods, she needed to shut Fandaniel up sooner rather than later.

—

As the others got ready to assault the Tower of Babil, she slipped away from concerned friends and into the room where they had put the body.

He had been a young Garlean man, utterly average. Brown hair. Tan skin. Bluish eyes, perhaps; hard to tell through the film of death. Were the gray hairs frosting his hair natural, or caused by his murder and subsequent abuse of his corpse? His third eye seemed deflated somehow, the keratin cracked and dulled. His body was oddly well preserved, though mottled with bruising and burns and cuts that could never heal, a precise sword slice that indicated how he had died. A soldier’s lifetime of scars underlay those more recent wounds.

Who had he been? What had he done? Why this body? Had Zenos found him alive? The original killing blow suggested it. There was nothing in the gear the body had worn to indicate who he had been.

“Whatever crimes you committed in life, your remains deserved better than this,” she whispered, covering the corpse again.

She turned to leave, and found herself confronted with a mirror.

Her face, reacting. Her hands, reaching forward to touch the pane. Her tears, falling over her cheeks. Her voice as she sobbed. Her knees gave way and hurt when she fell to them, shaking and crying. Her forehead leaned against the mirror. Her arms hugged herself.

[lindajenni]

mar 28

waiting for His whistle "He will lift up a banner to the nations from afar, and will whistle to them from the end of the earth; surely they shall come with speed, swiftly." isa 5:26 did you ever picture God whistling?  as if to say, "hey you.  come over here."  well, actually i can imagine Him saying, "come up here."  i can imagine Him pleading for you to come. i can picture Him saying, "lay aside that sinful flesh and all the hurts, worries and needs it demands and enter into the joy of your Lord.  I've got things waiting for you that you can't even imagine." i sing of a whistle,a whistle of worth,i sing of a whistle,the pride of the north. we know the north is a desired habitation.  God said of satan: "for you have said in your heart: ‘i will ascend into heaven, i will exalt my throne above the stars of God; i will also sit on the mount of the congregation on the farthest sides of the north." isa 14:13 we too shall inhabit that dwelling, not by will but by request; because Jesus willed it.  "Father, I desire that they also whom You gave Me may be with Me where I am, that they may behold My glory which You have given Me; for You loved Me before the foundation of the world." john 17:24 i don't care if it's a whistle or a trumpet, i'll be listening. just a side note here.  i never learned to whistle.  my brother, before he died, could bellow out the loudest of whistles.  he used to make fun of me because i couldn't.  i just brushed it off as being a guy and girl thing (even though i know girls whistle).  here's a poem i thought was cute. i want to learn to whistle,i've always wanted to;i fix my mouth to do it, but,the whistle won't come through. i think perhaps it's stuck,and so i try it once again;can people swallow whistles,where is my whistle then? - by dorothy aldis all i can say is God will give us whistles if we need one to spread the gospel.

[anthonysstupiddailyblog]

Anthony's Stupid Daily Blog (527): Sat 26th Aug 2023

I saw on the Sunderland Global Media group this morning that Mrs Brown's Boys is coming to the Sunderland Empire. Well at least now Sid James won’t be the only comedian to have died on that stage One last day at work to kill before I board a FUCKING BUS to London in order to attend AEW's All In at Wembley Stadium. I still can't believe the train companies are selling tickets for nearly £100 even though the journey times are going to be almost doubled due to the strikes. The tickets should be about £3 each. I'm not quite sure how I'm going to remain sane for the entirety of the journey but then maybe that's where I've been going wrong. Over the years I've worried that working in the call centres (both of them), working in Aldi and being on the dole would end up driving me insane but maybe being sane it what's holding me back in life. There are plenty of people who were absolutely cockamamie bat-shit snooker loopy crazypants who seemed to benefit enormously. Robin Williams was totally insane and he was one of the funniest men who ever existed, maybe if I allowed myself to go mad then it would make this blog almost readable. Anywho I'm still totally in awe of the fact that AEW have gotten to the stage less than five years into their existence where they can put on a show that is on track to becoming the highest attended paid wrestling event of all time. I know that AEW is struggling in the ratings at the moment (and although I hate to admit it they kind of deserve to be struggling in the ratings because they refuse to make tiny alterations to the show that could make it more attractive to a more mainstream audience but I digress) but you can't say that a company that has just sold out Wembley fucking Stadium is a failure, you just can't. Yes there are still major problems with the company but as I said they're less than five years old, I'm sure the McMahons had to spend a few years figuring out what worked and what didn't before they started their rapid growth. I'm so excited for this show and I can not wait (I mean that metaphorically I can't wait, in actuality I can wait and I have to wait because that's how time works. If there was someone who for some reason literally couldn't wait for something they wanted then they'd burst into flames every time there was someone ahead of them at an ice cream truck).

[moonrisecalamityretreat]

The right thing to do | Yuriko | 5.4 | re: everything

Truth be told, Yuriko was prepared to die.

Regardless of what they argue, what strings they unravel in this cruel and dark place, the outcome of these trials will always be the same— that someone was going to die. So, of course, why wouldn’t you pick the one responsible for the trial in the first place? The kindest thing to do was to not put up a fight, and to not let it be any harder than it is.

Yuriko opens her mouth to say exactly this, but then she feels a gentle hand on her head. Her eyes widen as she meet’s Loic’s gaze. The smile that he greets them with makes their voice stuck in their throat.

No. I have everything to apologize for. 

She wants to say. For all the wrongs Loic has done…Yuriko still believes that he could get better. Mio did too. He doesn’t deserve to have everything be taken away from him, but now she’s leaving him alone too.

They watch in stunned silence, as he argues for her.

Stop it. This is wrong. I’m a murderer—

Yuriko turns their head as another voice speaks up— Kazuo. One of the first people they befriended. A veteran of two games he did not ask to be a part of. Now he’s forced to watch history repeat itself as she’s put on the stand. 

“K-Kazuo-san…”

It hurts that he’s even had to ask, but she understands. 

“…I never considered it even once. Not until now. When I saw that video…I felt hopeless, and then when Yvette died, I was angry, so very angry. You could say that was the first time I ever really thought about murder. The Shepherd, The Exalt…I wanted them all to die.”

Now they know that there is hope. That people are fighting back, but they don’t say it aloud. They don’t want to reveal too much in front of the rabbits.

Yuriko has sworn to herself that no matter what, she would always pick the kindest option.

And at that moment, she made the decision: the kindest thing she could do was to kill the mastermind.

“That was how I knew…I was no longer a good person. That I had fallen for their trick.”

A pawn once more in a game that she was born to lose.

“What do you want us to do?”

 “I…”

What does she want?

Mikazuki and Tsuneo chime in, trying to grasp for loose strings. Even after the incident with Aldie, Yuriko never thought they were bad people. They just felt sad, because they know they’ve had experiences that led them to think that way. They kept believing in them too. Now, they’re searching for a loophole that would somehow save everyone in this story.

They’re searching, because they want her to live.

This realization is what finally brings tears to her eyes. 

 “No…the trap didn’t go wrong at all. It worked perfectly. We were about done when the chandelier fell on me. Mio panicked, and it tried to get help, but…”

They close their eyes. The image is still seared in their memory.

“But I…I couldn’t save her.”

Kazuo’s question rings in their head again. 

“What do you want us to do?”

“What…What I want now…”

The kindest thing to do was to let herself get voted. To not put up a fight, and to not let it be any harder than it is.

But the truth is—

“I…I don’t want to die.”

  “But, I don’t want anyone else to die either.”

She looks up at Futaba. Despite the tears still trailing down her face, she offers her dear friend a smile. 

  “So, vote however you’d like. I forgive you.”

“Just please forgive me too, for being selfish a little longer.”

Maybe next time, whether it be in this life or the next, they can go to the arcade together.