#OC-Destroyer of canon!

[jazzystudios82]

Jazzy's Masterlist ♡

About Me | Rules & What I Write/Don't Write | Series I Write For | Requests | Character Headcanons | Reading Recommendations | TV & Movie Recommendations | Gaming Recommendations | AO3 Recommendations | AO3 | OC Relationships | Mood Boards | OC Interactions | Ask my OCs | LORE | Original Writings

Requests ❎ (Not Open)

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~ Tags ~

#by jazzy 💖 - Content that I post

#jazzy's art 🎨 - Art that I made

#jazzy's response 🔈 - Questions that I answer

#jazzy's rants 💔 - Dumb little rants

#jazzy's little rambles 🤡 - Whenever I ramble about things

#jazzy's little announcements 📣 - For special announcements

#jazzy's reblogs 🔁 - for things that I reblog

#jazzy's fics ✍🏻 - For fan fiction purposes

~ Fandoms ~

Dragon Ball 🐉

Bride of the Destroyer (Series)

Untitled Bridgerton AU

Marvel ❤️

Adventures of Earth-8099 (Series)

DC 💙

Daughter of the Bat

Hazbin Hotel 🏨

Daughters of the Morningstar

The Royal Three

Helluva Boss 😈

Info Coming Soon!

Transformers: Animated | Prime | RID15🤖

Thorns and Thrones (Series)

Ties that Bind

Sonic the Hedgehog 🦔

The Sonic Chronicles (Series)

Diabolik Lovers 🥀

An Angel's Embrace (Series)

Lethality

Switch! AU

The Remarried Empress 👑

Son of the Empress and the Traitor

Ageless and empty blogs. . . .DO NOT INTERACT!! YOU WILL BE BLOCKED!!!!

If you do not have your age or anything at all in your blog, I WILL block you. I'm sorry.

Blogs that I Recommend ♡

@aisururozu - someone who posts good Dragon Ball content and memes

@monochrome-night - someone who makes amazing Dragon Ball fan art

@equinox-86 - a blog that makes good DL OC content and fan art

@jarofloosescrews - a blog that makes amazing Transformers fan art

@pastelpaperplanes - a blog that makes great Transformers fan art and AUs (like their Thorns and Thrones AU)

@jayessart - a blog for an artist that makes great comics, such as The Reaper and the Waiting & Fathoms of Atonement

@bubblespalace - a fantastic writer who specifically dabbles in Diabolik Lovers

@aniitadraw - a blog that makes great Maxley (Max x Bradley) content who is even making a fan comic!

@amartbee - a fantastic Dragon Ball artist

@dbzsenpai - another fantastic DB artist

@shittycampari - an artist who makes cute DBS fan art, specifically for Universe #3's angelic attendant, Camparri

@struggling-sketches - and yet another fantastic DB fan artist

Thank you for taking the time to read this ♡

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[south-park-dimensions]

(You ever just make an oc for a joke animatic, but then get attached? Anyway this is Taran ajdbd)

(Context behind said joke initially: Thought it’d be funny to do an animatic to “Red Flags by Tom Cardy” but with Coon as the guy using a dating app (that he probably made like coonstigram). So, Taran was going to be the random girl he met, and now I like her so- Have this misc art we did between comic pages)

(As for smol context for her joke aside: She’s from the mystical timeline, but is currently stuck in the superhero one bc of plot reasons. Hence how she met coon on a dating app ajdbd)

[elliebell77]

abyss belongs to metakazkz

i think itd be neat if they knew eachother cause they both live in purgatory

[tissjustaphase]

Silly little au for a silly couple

I really like nun Randy, looking all fruity and shit

[gumbootillustrations]

i can fix him your honour *smacks him with the oc-ification hammer*

anyway. enjoy the babygirl-ification of aaron lycan. more stuff below the cut.

i love the idea of aaron. like, some guy whos hellbent on revenge learning to live and love outside of it?? and he finds not only love but a new home in someone else searching for the same thing after they've both lost so much??? UGH ITS SO GOOD. and then jesson fucking. fumbled it. SO BAD. im still mad abt it almost like. ten yrs later (how tf is diaries this old i swear it was still airing like last yr). so uh. ive tried to go in n fix him. i swear. but in the process a Lot of his backstory n stuff has been overhauled and im sorry to all the canon aaron truthers but the way that jesson handled his arc n stuff was God Awful and i hate it. so uh. yeah.

aaron shows up in ashes, ashes way earlier than he does in canon diaries - hes following the high priest's trail, and when he catches wind of him travelling to phoenix drop to officiate a wedding and track down his supposedly dead brother, he follows the rumours and shows up right after alexis is cursed. he forms a sort of truce with aph (although garroth is hesitant to trust him, given that he wants to murder his younger brother n garroth still believes that zane can be saved) and fucks off again until they meet up again when aph n co are snooping around pikoro trying to find lord luke so that she can sign a trade deal with him - aaron's (rightfully) convinced that zane has something to do with luke's disappearance, and once all that tomfoolery is settled, he decides to return to phoenix drop with aphmau, believing that the impending war will offer the best opportunity for him to finally kill zane.

as we all know, though, this... really doesn't go to plan. they get trapped in irene's cathedral - which is more of a labyrinth with religious imagery plastered everywhere - and it isn't aaron who lands the killing blow on his mortal enemy, but rather garroth, who gets possessed by esmund's relic. then, when they manage to escape thanks to zoey, ten years have passed and the cathedra of irene (the religious organisation that zane was in charge of as high priest) has all but collapsed. up until this point, all aaron has really been living for is destroying the cathedra, and with his job already done for him by the passage of time, he's now sort of... lost, is the best way i can really describe it. he decides to stick around in phoenix drop - although he doesn't really want to admit it, the people are nice, he's become friends with garroth and katelyn, and it's a safe place for him to stay while he figures out his next moves. it also doesn't help that aph keeps roping him into her adventures (although he secretly enjoys having something to do).

it's through these new connections that he learns to start opening up about his past; how he was raised as the heir to the lordship of a hunting town up north named falconclaw, how the cathedra ordered its destruction and the murder of all its people due to them allegedly being descended from shad, the destroyer, how he came back from a hunting trip to find all his family and friends dead, how the grief manifested in a long-dormant magick that causes anything he lays eyes on to disintegrate, only to be controlled by an enchanted blindfold given to him by a passing elf who took pity on him. over time, he learns to control his magick, leading to him starting to leave his blindfold off - a sort of symbol of his willingness to trust in others, and to trust himself around others. most of this is me wanting his fuckass bandanna to have some sort of meaning behind it outside of "uwu edgy man with edgy outfit" but uh yeah. idk.

anyway, after a while he decides to stick around permanently right before the gang heads to gal'ruk to track down carin valkrum, an ex-juror who went missing decades prior, who katelyn is convinced knows of the whereabouts of the keeper's relic.

which means an outfit change. i tried to make his second winter outfit noticeably lighter than his first one, but still incorporating his trademark reds and browns. there isn't too much else to say abt this outfit? i dont think?? like there isnt a ton of lore stuff tied up in it except "oh hes going to a cold place lol". uhh i guess i could mention that he has a fucked up knee from a hunting accident when he was younger, hence the wrapped up knee?? idk. also he has a lil brooch w a falcon claw on it as a sort of homage to falconclaw. and his fucked up eyes r a reference to his eyes being fucked up in mys. yeah. idk.

uhh casual outfit. i like to think that he asked laurance for help w finding something to wear that wasnt super casual for more formal events (like the monthly potluck dinners that phoenix drop holds for everyone to celebrate the new moon) bc garroth is fucking useless when it comes to clothes n katelyn isnt that much better so laurance, having grown up in meteli surrounded by pirates, threw a billowy white button down at him n told him to go ham. i think laurance also lowkey influences aaron to get the falcon tattoo at some point - i dont think he loses the brooch, but since its so obviously a reference to his birthplace in ru'aun and could potentially get him and the rest of the gang hurt or even killed once they decide to travel to tu'la, he decides to get the kārearea tattooed over his heart as an homage to his family. anyway, it's in tu'la where he learns that he isn't the only survivor of falconclaw as he had previously thought: the werewolf pack that he'd grown up alongside (blaze, dottie, maria, rylan, and daniel) are still alive and well, as is melissa, although she's been cursed w what will later become known as the "ultima" curse due to her striking a deal with the demon warlock in an attempt to restore falconclaw. anyway, it's pretty emotional, esp since both sides have long thought the other to be suuuper dead. the scars on aaron's forearm are from when he n blaze got into a tussle as kids.

and finally, his destroyer form! after katelyn finally kills ivy n recovers shad's relic, there's a lot of debate as to what to do with it; some folks think its best to find it a host, others want to try and destroy it, and others want to simply lock it away in a pocket dimensino or something to keep it safe. eventually, aaron decides that, in order to protect the family he's created and the family he's rediscovered, it's probably best for him to take on the mantle of the destroyer of the second war of the magi, especially once it's revealed that the aaron of the first war (shad) cleaved his soul in two once he began to get corrupted by the influence of the void - the half that was corrupted would become the shadow lord, whereas the uncorrupted half would go onto reincarnate like the other souls of the divine warriors (excluding irene). i'm still fiddling around w how the second war of the magi ends, but my thinking as of right now is that the first war ended with irene burning away her first physical form to seal the shadow lord in the nether, the second war (mcd) ending w the restoration n reunification of shads soul n the divine warriors sealing away most magicks as a temporary stopgap against the spread of the void, and the third war (mys) being the war in which the void is finally defeated.

and finally some headshots. i personally headcanon aaron as being autistic as fuck n being the kind of autistic where he isn't super expressive (sorta like garroth), although a little less stern. speaking of, i really wanted him n garroth to be sort of foils for each other: namely, where aaron was raised to only ever see lordship as a privilege, garroth was raised in an environment that led him to believe that lordship was only ever a burden. anyway, they're best mates n i will die on this hill. yeah i know that in the first war esmund n shad didnt like each other that much (as an understatement) but something something healing the wrongs of the past with each reincarnation cycle something something they're best friends now and you can't stop me. also he and aph do end up together but it takes sooo fucking long, like those two are the most awkward motherfuckers this side of ru'aun and it takes longer for them to confess than it does for garroth and laurance to confess and thats Saying Something. like. c'mon. it was stupidly out of character for this wet noodle of a man to hook up w aph in the middle of s2. tell me that u don't know how to write ur characters without telling me that u don't know how to write ur characters n all that jazz.

anyway. gumboot rambles once again. its 2am at the time of posting this n i need to go sleep so uh. yeah. dante or travis is up next mostly bc aph has like thirteen outfit changes before s3 n im dreading drawing them all so yeah.

feel free to ask any questions or anything!! :D

[kurithedweeb]

Since I’ve ended up filling the ranks of side characters with background NPCs and fleshing them out to the point of basically being original characters, I’ve been considering adding OCs with no basis in canon to the mix. I’m already halfway there by giving Katelyn’s unnamed brothers a story, so why not?

For example, members of noble households. Nursemaids and pages and groundskeepers and such.

Kenmur would have had at least one nursemaid when his old village was attacked who would have likely been with him at the time of the attack and therefore likely been the one first able to get baby Kenmur to some semblance of safety and possibly survived as a result. Pages were men or boys employed to be personal attendants to people of rank who might have also done chores and errands for the household or establishment they worked for, and each of the Ro’Meave brothers might have had a page around their own age growing up, Zane might even have the same page he had when he was young still on his service as an attendant when he’s grown. Meteli’s a pretty backwater and casual place, but a Lord’s household is still a Lord’s household and so the Zvahl family probably had a few servants who might have lived in or very near the household, a groundskeeper among them that I think Cadenza would have been close to and learned about flowers from.

There’s also a big thing about succession in MCD, so I’d need to add some heirs and apprentices to the Lords in the various villages, plus actually fill some of the villages we never see in canon. Nahakra needs an heir, so do the Neopolitan villages, I need to figure out Matataki’s whole situation and someone has to fill the void in Boboros’s leadership after Gene killed both the Lord and the heir and they also need a head guard.

I’ve been dabbling with how I’m handling the families of the main and supporting cast that we don’t see or hear about in canon too.

Zenix was an only child and his parents belonged to a sect that worshipped the Destroyer and he grew up worshipping Shad instead of Irene alongside the rest of their small settlement. The settlement was found and divided when he was about ten, and his parents raised him in seclusion where it was safe after that. All three of them died in a house fire Zenix set by accident when he was a teen, and after being brought back Zenix can’t remember much about them due to injuries sustained in the fire.

Nana has an absolutely massive family. In MyS she mentions being the seventh child of twelve. In her clan’s compound in Tu’la there’s the main branch of the clan which includes Nana and her siblings, their parents, a scattering of uncles and aunts and cousins, and any nieces or nephews she may have. Then there’s the vassal clans under them, at least one of which should be a clan of craftsmen so they don’t have to outsource their gear or clothing very often. They also have the servants of the household and possibly their families, any gladiators sponsored by the clan, tradesmen under contract to the clan, and possibly any orphans the household sponsors and trains to eventually make a contract with. There would also be aides and attendants and advisors. When I say massive family, I mean it.

Then we also have a few of the main and supporting cast where I completely fudge the canon. One of Cadenza’s bio parents is a Shadow Knight and that’s why Shadow Knights are always after her. Esmund and Xavier had an older sister, then Xavier had a wife and several kids that turned into the Ro’Meave line. Aaron had a brother who’s only a few years older than Jacob. Vylad has a slew of half-siblings across the continent. Travis has a twin who the Demon Warlock stole away to make his successor when they were young. Kiki and Brendan are estranged from their father and sister. Ein was the unnamed pup from the werewolf tribe near Brightport and was adopted by an older woman from the werewolf kingdom after being split from his tribe. Dante and Gene had a father who they never saw because he was always working, alongside their canon mom and uncle. Malachi has a whole line of indirect descendants because his parents had another kid after he was sent away, and they have old family stories where being turned into a ghost like their ancestor Malachi is what happens to bad kids. Enki and Kul’zak had two kids, one by adoption and the other by magickal means.

This isn’t even getting into my whole Seven Sinners of Virtue thing, which is basically the generation before the Divine Warriors if they were part of a cycle of people whose purpose is to keep the world spinning by whatever means necessary. There’s the Seven, the families, their enemies, and the gods who were worshipped before the Divine Faith came about.

This is. So Many Characters.

[stirringwinds]

i'm curious if you have more yao headcanons?

I notice i've found it hard to pin down his character. there's either the hetalia canon version which is offensive to say the least, or there's like the fanon versions where he's sort of an accessory to the plot of other popular characters (most/all of whom are white characters, which imo is offensive for a whole other reason.)

i've been writing more induchu/indchu (whatever the indiaxchina pairing is called) lately and while hws india is almost an oc to me because of how little there is of him in canon, yao is a lot harder for me to write. also partly because i dont know as much as i should of chinese history (what i know is basically from an indian history context) and i havent yet had the opportunity to do some serious research. so i'm curious to hear your thoughts on him! thank you and have a great day <3

sorry for taking a while to get to your ask—but thank you for the great question! i'll cover some elements of both ancient/imperial and modern chinese history and certain themes/relationships with other nations that i think are really central to his character:

creator and destroyer: to me, Yao is akin to the Yellow River itself—a life-giving source whose waters and fertile silt birthed Chinese civilisation, but whose devastating floods have also drowned millions and destroyed dynasties. that’s exactly what he is to many of his neighbours—a cultural wellspring from whom they have learned much, but at other times, ruthless and terrible in his power—a conquering empire who has drowned other nations in his pitiless ambition. here, i’m integrating the long history of ancient and imperial China as an expansionist empire. it’s a crucial element of his character for me, because the Sinicisation of what were once independent, non-Chinese polities has moulded modern China and Asia. Yao’s cultural influence, technology, aesthetics and philosophies spread out across the world—but trade routes and diplomats walked hand-in-hand with power amassed through imperial conquest.

passions of the cut sleeve: so, this refers to a tale where a han dynasty emperor, who, rather than waking his male lover who had fallen asleep on the long sleeve of his hanfu, just cut through all that expensive silk so he wouldn’t be disturbed lol. sexuality-wise, it’s pretty much ironclad for me that Yao has had many romantic and physical relationships with other men too; there’s a long history of m/m relationships in pre-modern china. generally, i don’t see him being shy or flustered about sex—some fandom depictions of him as such feel uncomfortably orientalist. he’s very experienced after all those years.  

old—and proud: Yao’s pride is both a strength and one of his biggest flaws. in the Confucian hierarchy, seniority confers prestige and demands respect. it’s a strength because he ferociously clings to that sense of “I have lasted for millennia and seen more than many other nations have” during the most trying moments of Chinese history. that long history is fuel for him to spitefully and doggedly endure—such as during the Opium Wars, or World War II. it’s a belief in his dignity that roots him in place when the world turns upside down.

but it's also a major flaw, because Yao can be arrogant and disdainful towards other nations, especially from the sinocentric worldview of regarding China as the center of civilisation, with Korea and Japan at times being referred to as some variant of 'barbarian', much less other non-Han polities seen as an obstacle to Chinese expansionism. Lien (Vietnam) is someone he acknowledges somewhat as a peer in age, but boy, is it a fraught relationship, because of the huge number of wars they've had against each other. to Lien, Yao can be arrogant at times, but he's someone whose scheming and sharpness of mind aren't to be underestimated either.

“mandate of heaven” and political pragmatism: i see Yao being one of the most ruthlessly pragmatic nations when it comes to political ideology and economics—it’s a very Deng Xiaopeng “what does it matter if the cat is black or white, as long as it catches mice?” today, he is not particularly emotionally attached to a specific form of governance. in ancient Chinese politics, there is a concept called “mandate of heaven” which was used to legitimise a king or emperor’s rule—but this isn’t the same as the european notion of the divine right of kings. because a Chinese ruler could “lose” that heavenly mandate and thus be justly overthrown—and wars, natural disasters and other crises were treated as indications of that. 'mandate of heaven' could of course retrospectively be manipulated by a usurper to legitimise his rule when (re)writing the history of the old regime by exaggerating its misdeeds, but nonetheless I think it’s a good reminder of many rebellions and revolts there've been in Chinese history. Yao is jaded to some degree—he does give a shit about his people, but he isn’t as idealistic as someone like Alfred might be (in the good and bad ways). he looks at things very pragmatically, rather than always through principle. if this is a system he has to live with, he will—for now. that’s the attitude I think he has towards many of his politicians: “to me, you emperors come and go, like the cycle of the seasons.” 

the old master and his protégé(s)—pre-modern china, korea and japan: imo, yong-soo and kiku are amongst his oldest and most important relationships, from antiquity to present. as intertwined as their history is, it always tended towards an unequal dynamic because Yao never quite regards them as equals. on one hand, they somewhat respect him for what he's contributed to their culture—but on the other, they were never completely free of being reminded of the imperial hierarchy and hard edge of yao's power. here, I’m thinking of examples like how the Korean peninsula was turned into a Chinese protectorate by Tang China, and how China crushed Yamato Japan during the Battle of Baekgang.

the silk road—india, persia/iran and rome: for all his cultural exceptionalism, i do think Yao respects these nations as peers. Rome, for example, was called ‘da qin’ (great qin), which mirrored how China was called ‘qin’ (from the qin dynasty)—despite the distance, Roman glassware made its way to China, whilst Chinese silk made its way to Rome. compared to Rome, Persia/Iran and India had an even bigger influence on Chinese culture—Iran, such as during the Tang dynasty: polo and Persian styles/aesthetics reached China, aided by Tang expansion westwards bringing it closer to the Persian sphere of influence. another interesting element is astronomy: Chinese astronomers worked alongside Persian at the 13th century Maragheh observatory where many discoveries about astronomy and mathematics were made.

as to pre-modern India-China: Buddhism is one really big cultural import absorbed by China; and I personally think that’s a large part of why Yao regards India more as an equal—in contrast to how he sees Kiku, Yong-soo and Lien (Vietnam). I think there’s a very scholarly dynamic in their pre-modern rship: India, in Yao’s eyes, is a sophisticated philosopher and mathematician lol—i base this off the enormous cultural exchange from Indian monks and scholars travelling to China, as well as how Indian astronomical texts, such as Aryabhatta’s works, were translated into Chinese.

the empire is dead, long live the republic: inasmuch as Yao's deeply steeped in tradition—he won’t die on the sword of it either. the 1840s—1910s is him going from crisis to crisis—but it was also full of Chinese political debates. about monarchies vs. republics, labour movements, revolutions and counter-revolutions, as Chinese people reacted to Western and Japanese imperialism. some Chinese revolutionaries, like the Boxers, rejected everything Western. others sought to borrow from British, American and Soviet models of governance. yet others, Sun Yat Sen included—looked to Meiji Japan. significantly, 1900s Japan became a hub for Chinese reformers linking up with sympathetic Japanese intellectuals/politicians, but also other Asian thinkers/revolutionaries, from as far as India, Indonesia, the Philippines and Vietnam. so if you’re interested in Ind/Chu, you can explore how they exist in the transnational dynamic of Pan-Asianism too. there’s the paradox of Kiku becoming an empire at Yao’s expense, whilst that very prestige he wins is exactly why many other Asians (including Indians and Chinese reformers) saw Japan as an aspirational model for a modernised Asian society that was free of Western domination. 

the old and the new: to end off, i think yao is someone whose facets are always fluid and shifting. how do i characterise someone who has lived for so long, and has encompassed so much sweeping history? to bring it back to the yellow river; rivers change their courses throughout history, sometimes very drastically, but we’d say it’s the same river. just as we aren’t the exact same person we were as children—but there is a thread of continuity, so it is for nations—just on a much longer time-scale. and i think that even though old nations like him bear the weight of millennia in a way that can be a jarring contrast to his deceptively youthful face—they’re also composed of the souls of their young people. he can be traditional, but he’s always moving with the times. he'll do traditional calligraphy, but he's reading manga and watching the latest chinese and k-dramas (even if he won't always admit it).

nowadays, he’s that older man in an expensive, well-tailored suit, probably smoking way too many zhonghuas despite the disapproving glances from younger chinese people, wearing an expensive watch or sunglasses. he can be kind of flashy at times and does he enjoy his luxuries. he's discerning and opinionated about the kind of food he likes, but he's adventurous and will try new things. in the 90s, he was confused by the internet, but now he’s extremely net-savvy, always using VPNs to get around the Great Firewall—and also spends way too much time on his phone on WeChat or Weibo. he can sound very cynical sometimes—but there's also a calm reflectiveness where he'd smile slightly and say, 'who knows what tomorrow brings?'

[pinkish-cat]

That's how the planet Earth was saved from destruction thanks to... A child???

I was just thinking what meeting my child character with Marvin would look like. And I think it turned out even funny and cute. And no, this is by no means a romantic OC x canon. It's more like how children in real life react to animators in costumes of their favorite characters.

Just how can you not resist such a cute destroyer of planets and hug him? :D I love him too.

In any case… I liked the result! I didn't even think I could draw Marvin the Martian. Perhaps in the future I will try to draw something similar, but with other characters.

Bonus:

...oops! :0 Sorry

[simpyshrimpy]

New draconia family tree just dropped. some chap 7 spoilers, some are ocs still

i do not know how three generations of women mommy dragon ladies ended in a boy honestly i feel like that means its rigged. anyways-

Maldra Draconia - Big red dragon old as time itself, this is where the Draconia's get their pretty green eyes from. Also though, just like all of the Draconia's in canon twisted wonderland. she's an absolute horror. I'm talking country destroyer to the point that if Tenebris hadn't somehow accidentally seduced her- the world probably would have ended. and it only got worse from there, because.... both her and Tenebris were strong af so Maleficia came out even stronger...

Rex Tenebrarum - that's just his title technically. I just translated king of darkness into latin smh. Tenebris is his nickname. Fae names are power guys. He's so anal about it even his own wife doesn't know his true name. Which isn't to say that he doesn't love her, but just that he takes every measure necessary to protect himself and in turn, his family. Somehow he accidentally seduced Maldra and then she actually forced him to marry her- but don't worry- he was totally into it.

Maleficia Draconia- Somehow even stronger than both of her parents. Terrifying. Her dad kept her more mellow than her mother thankfully, but she's still horrible and her mother lets her cause havok anyways. Dad has to come in and stop her halfway but by then some citys are still gone....

Dante Draconia- He'll come up in the future, so i haven't decided much on him, but i do want it to be a theme where the draconia women just strong arm these men who accidentally seduce them into marrying them. Poor guy. He probably mellows out grandmommy draconia though.

Other than that, things will be close to the canon universe. Lilia, Mallenoa, and Raven will all still be childhood friends, although Lilia will be doing fieldtrips to Kumiko's mountain to train. Maybe for summer vacation! And of course, Mallenoa will not allow him to have fun without her- Which also means Raven comes too.

Grim, Kumiko and the reader will be like summer camp counselors with a world destroyer dragon fae, bratty little future hardcore general lilia, and also a bird who probably cries whenever he makes eye contact with kumiko.

Also no- i do not subscribe to the Crowley is Raven theory guys. C'mon. I wouldn't want any future where Mallenoa died tragically while Raven was still alive. I'd like to think he'd go to hell before he ever leaves her high and dry.

Also we'll probably try to prevent them from dying in this world. I haven't worked out the specifics yet. Maybe it ends up being their fate to die- or maybe I'll decide that since we hold some sort of power over this world, that we can defy even fate itself. It's the same problem I'll have to think over with Ortho. Since the original ortho is dead and the one we all know and love is just a recreation of a dead kid...

Welp. That's a problem for future Shrimpy. Not me. goodnight and please remember that i love malleus-

[jazzystudios82]

His Lovely Rose - Chapter 23: Frieza Beaten

WARNING: This chapter contains gore, violence, and potential disturbing imagery.

Previous. . . . Next Story. . . .

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Brier watched Vegeta and Frieza in the middle of their stand-off. It was like watching two rival gunslingers waiting for the other to draw their weapon in those films Kero likes so much. Though it was unclear if the "hero" would be able to defeat the "villain" in this unscripted battle. 

"Sorry Frieza, but I can't let you kill Kakarot." Vegeta said. Brier blinked in surprise. Did Vegeta have a soft spot for Goku after all? "As annoying as he may be, I need him in my life so that I can have someone always pushing me to get stronger." he added.

Ah, so that was why. It made more sense actually. 

"You. . .how dare you, you mongrel?! You coward!" Frieza shouted, angry at having been robbed of his moment. 

'Coward? Says the one taking cheap shots. . .' Brier thought to herself, annoyed. Releasing a sigh, Brier outstretched her right arm and used magic to bring Goku's weakened body to her and the others. As soon as Goku's body made it to the group, Bulma and the Z-Fighters gathered around him.

"Dad, are you ok?!" Gohan exclaimed. 

"Back up everyone." Brier commanded. "He needs room." Everyone nodded and backed away. "S-Sorry about making you do this, L-Lady Brier." Goku said, apologetic. "I-I screwed up big time, huh?"

"It's fine, Son Goku. Though I'm afraid Whis did try to warn you about something like this happening. So you should probably be more concerned with him." Brier told him. 

Goku looked at Whis for a reaction. As always, Whis didn't seem to care. 

Brier then gently placed her hands on Goku's chest and said, "laeH!" In a matter of seconds, the Saiyan's body was healed of its life-threatening injury. 

Goku almost immediately sat up straight, alarming the others (except Beerus, Whis, and Brier). "Goku, take it easy!" Piccolo told him. "Relax! I'm fine! Looks like Lady Brier's magic works as well as the Senzu Beans!"

Upon seeing that his father was fine, Goten immediately hugged him. "D-Dad! I-I was so scared!" he cried. "Hey, it's ok bud. I'm alive, aren't I?" Goku said, attempting to calm his youngest son. 

Before anyone else could speak, a loud blast was heard. Brier looked to see that Vegeta and Frieza were now fighting one another, and that the one known as 'Sorbet' had been shot in the chest, and was almost dying. Whether he was shot by Vegeta or Frieza during the battle was unclear to her, but she didn't care. It was when he made a weak attempt to shoot Vegeta that she decided that she had enough.

He needed to be taken care of now. 

Brier then snapped her fingers and let out a low whisper, "emoC, oreK! Kcatta!" Suddenly, the ground beneath Sorbet turned blood red. Before Sorbet could react, his entire body was ensnared in the massive jaw of a cream colored wolf with glowing ochre colored eyes being pushed back into the sockets of its exposed white skull. The demonic wolf, Kero, was chomping on the now limp, bloody body of the former commander of the Frieza Force. It was such a disturbing sight that Bulma and Gohan made sure to cover the eyes of Trunks and Goten respectively. Pretty much everyone was disgusted by it, except for Beerus and Whis. They had seen this before, therefore they were used to it. 

The giant wolf swallowed the remnants of Sorbet's body and licked his lips. He then looked at Brier, ignoring the others. 

"Is this all that you called me for, my lady?" Kero asked, his voice booming like Shenron's. "Yes, that's all. I just needed you to take care of a pest for me. You can go back home if you wish." Brier said. "Although I wouldn't mind if you wanted to stay and meet everyone." 

"Hmmmm. . . It's probably best that I go." Kero said. His eyes glanced at the others for a brief moment, startling them. "After all, it seems that the Earthlings don't want to be near me. Perhaps another time, with me in a more. . .comfortable form for them to comprehend." 

"If that's what you want, then that's fine. We'll see you soon." Brier said as she bid him goodbye. The void-like portal that led Kero to Earth vanished as soon as his giant wolf head disappeared. As soon as he left, Gohan and Bulma allowed Trunks and Goten to see again. The only one who had the courage to ask Brier who that was was none other than Bulma herself. 

"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!" Bulma exclaimed. "Him? That was Kero." Brier replied, nonchalant. "Kero. . .? Wait, isn't that the same name as Whis' co-worker?!" Bulma asked. "Are you telling me that that thing is the guy that is the same person Whis thought about bringing over for a party?!" 

"Co-worker? I suppose that you can call him that." Brier replied. "Though he's technically my familiar, and-" "Familiar?! Is that a fancy way of saying a 'pet' or something?!" Bulma nearly shouted. "No. A familiar is a daemon who is in a contract with a god or goddess." Brier explained. Brier hoped that Bulma was done asking follow up questions. But alas, she wasn't. 

"If you had something like that, why didn't you use him against Frieza?! We all could have-" "Ms Bulma, like what my husband said earlier, we're not really allowed to intervene in mortal affairs." Brier said. "What? Then why did you have that wolf eat that guy?!" Bulma questioned.

"It's simple. He annoyed me, and I decided to get rid of him." Brier answered with slight cold tone. This comment made Bulma slightly scared of the goddess. In fact, nearly all of the Z-Fighters were a little disturbed by it. Brier seemed like such a kind-hearted being that it seemed impossible to even imagine that she didn't care about taking the life of another person. Even if they worked for a bad guy. 

"Are we finished now?" Brier asked, seemingly back to her regular mood. She then patiently waited for Bulma to answer. "I-" 

An electric blue glow appeared from behind the goddess. "?" She turned around to see that Vegeta had transformed into Super Saigon Blue as well, having the same characteristics that Goku had prior. 

"I-I don't believe it!" Brier heard Frieza shout, sounding shocked. She watched as the Saiyan Prince descended to the soil of the Earth with a smirk on his face. "Things have changed the last time you were around. For starters, I can now do this." Vegeta said. Frieza gritted his teeth in anger as Vegeta got closer. The tyrant then shot at Vegeta with an energy blast, but it had no effect. "?!" 

Brier could tell that this was pushing Frieza over the limit as he continued to shot at the Saiyan. "NO! THIS IS IMPOSSIBLE!" he yelled. "You of all people should know about me: I don't share the same taste for forgiveness like Kakarot does! You're going back to Hell!" Vegeta declared. He flew straight towards Frieza and punched him in the abdomen, causing him to cough up a mixture of purple colored blood and saliva.

Vegeta avoided Frieza's attempts to punch him, using his newfound speed to attack the one who caused him so much pain. To rob him of his right to be king. 

Vegeta used an excessive amount of force to kick Frieza's calf. The kick was so strong that he could hear the sound of bone shattering. It was obvious that Frieza's leg was now broken. Vegeta watched as the space lizard cried out in pain. To say that this made him feel a small amount of victory already was putting it lightly. But he knew that his fight wasn't over yet.

"Give it up Frieza. You don't stand a chance against the true power of a Saiyan God!" Vegeta said. 

"It's simply not possible for me to be defeated by the likes of you Vegeta! It won't happen!" Frieza shouted. He made an attempt to stand, but was quick to remember what Vegeta did to his leg. He fell to the dirt once more, and to make matters worse, Frieza's golden form vanished, meaning that he was now in his original form once more. "!" Frieza tried to move away from Vegeta, but due to his injuries, he did make it very far. 

"Woah, look at that! He's lost his golden form!" Krillin nearly exclaimed. "I guess this means that he's completely at Vegeta's mercy now." Piccolo commented as well. "Yeah. Sucks to be him, I guess." Goku said. 

"How. . .how could this have happened?!" Frieza began to shout. "OUT OF ALL THE BEINGS IN THE UNIVERSE, THE ONE WHO GOT THE BETTER OF ME WAS VEGETA?! THIS IS NOT THE WAY THIS ENDS!" "Hmph. At least try to face your death with a shred of honor." Vegeta said with a cold smile. He then outstretched his right arm once more and was preparing an energy blast just for Frieza.

He had waited a long time for this. "And don't ever dream of resurrecting again." 

"You. . .YOU CAN ALL GO TO HELL WITHOUT M-" Before Frieza could finish his sentence, a black circle appeared under his body, turning into a dark void instantaneously. Slimy ink-like tendrils formed around the tyrant and forcefully dragged him into the void, covering his mouth to prevent him from screaming. And just like that, Frieza was gone.

Everyone was stunned by what happened. Especially Vegeta.

'Was this some kind of new trick Frieza learned? To escape from his enemies?. . .' Vegeta wondered. He felt around for Frieza's energy to see if he was going to attempt a sneak attack of sorts. But he didn't sense anything. It appeared that Frieza was truly gone. 

"Woah, what was that Vegeta?" Goku asked, he and the others going to the Saiyan Prince. "Did Whis teach you some kind of secret technique or something?"

"What? No, he didn't. I thought that Frieza had some kind of new escape tactic. Unless. . .Lady Brier, did you use magic to get rid of him?" Vegeta questioned, causing everyone to look at the goddess. 

"N-No, I didn't. Believe me, I'm as shocked as you are." Brier answered honestly. "Although from the looks of it, Frieza didn't seem to have known about this. . .thing that took him, so it was most likely against his will." 

"So you're saying that someone kidnapped Frieza?" Gohan asked. "Either that or perhaps Vegeta was right and he used a new method to escape. Or at least, a surviving member of his army did." Brier said.

"So then. . .does this mean that Frieza can come back?" Trunks asked. "Most likely, I'm afraid." Brier answered. 

Everyone began to worry about the potential return the evil emperor, but Beerus decided to break their scared silence. "Oh relax! Even if he does come back, I'm sure that all of you will get stronger in the meantime. That is if you still want to protect Earth anyway." 

"Of course we do! Why wouldn't we?!" Piccolo nearly shouted, but then remembered that he was speaking to a god. Luckily for him, Beerus didn't seem to care. "Good, then you can all worry about this for another day." he added. 

"I hate to say it, but Lord Beerus is right. We should be happy that Earth's been spared for today." Bulma said. "Let's have a get-together at my place. What do all say?" Pretty much everyone nodded their heads. 

As everyone began to get ready, Brier felt an odd presence nearby. "?" She looked around to see where it was coming from. Then her ruby eyes noticed a peculiar bird resting on a nearby tree. It was that damned crow from Bulma's birthday party. What the hell is it doing back here?

"-r? Brier?" The goddess turned around to see Whis and Beerus looking at her. "Darling, is something wrong?" Beerus asked. "What do you mean? You don't see the. . ." When she went to look back at the bird, Brier saw that it was gone. "That's odd." she mumbled, which the two men heard. 

"What is, my lady?" Whis asked.

". . .You know what? It's been a long day, I'm probably just a little tired and seeing things." Brier replied, hoping that she was right. The Titan then walked with Beerus and Whis to follow the others to Capsule Corp for a celebration. 

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Location: Unknown Planet. . . . 

Frieza roughly landed on the ground of a dark and cold room. Well, more specifically on something hard and boney. The sudden fall made the sharp pain in his broken leg worse. "Argh!! Who's the one that brought me here?! Just so you know, I'm NOT in a generous mood today!" Frieza yelled, his voice echoing across the vast room. His blood red eyes looked around for any source of light he could find and use so that he could get out. He didn't find any, it was just a vast darkness all around him.

Frustrated, Frieza created a small red energy orb with his finger to use a as a light source. And the first thing he saw was a wrinkled, lifeless body of what appeared to be a Namekian, who had a forever horrified look on his smelly decomposing face. 

"!" 

Frieza backed away in a panic, his back colliding into something. Or rather someone, given how soft it was. Frieza turned around to see a cloaked figure behind him. He couldn't see their face properly due to their face being partially obscured by their hood.

"W-Who are you?!" the tyrant shouted. "Tell me at once, you bastard!" "Oh my, you're a feisty one, aren't you~?" the hooded person said as a response, his voice rich and melodic. Like a siren. His voice strangely somehow managed to soothe Frieza just a little bit. 

"I apologize for startling you, good sir. It wasn't my intention. And for the mess of the place. I haven't had guests for some time." the stranger said. He snapped his fingers and a strange mist appeared, getting rid of the Namekian body, and several skeletons that were nearby. When the mist disappeared, he muttered something in a language that Frieza couldn't understand. Whatever it was, it resulted in his leg healing.

"There you go. Hope you're feeling better now."

Frieza stood up from the ground and dusted himself off. "Who. . .who are you?" Frieza asked once more, this time more relaxed. "A possible new ally of yours, I hope." the stranger said. He then noticed the small light from Frieza's finger and chuckled, which sent a shiver down Frieza's spine. A pleasant one actually. "There's no need for that, anymore." he said as he then raised a hand up in the air, creating a white hot flame that flew to several chandeliers on the ceiling. This lit up the room properly. Frieza looked at the stranger to see if he could finally see what he looked like. 

Frieza couldn't see the upper half of his face, only the mouth area. From what he could tell, the hooded figure had skin as white as porcelain, and cupid bow lips that were colored a deep shade of pink, and near the left side of his lips was a dark beauty mark. Even though he couldn't see the entirety of his face, Frieza could tell that this man was a rather attractive individual, like Zarbon was when he was alive and in his primary form.  

"Is there something odd about me, Lord Frieza?" he asked. "You're staring." "!" Frieza couldn't believe that he was caught staring. This was not like him. This wasn't like him at all. 

"M-My apologies, Mr. . .?" 

"Right, I never did tell you my name did? I'll fix that soon enough." the stranger said as a black ink-like portal appeared behind him, allowing a half-skeletal crow to enter in the room and fly to the hooded figure and gently land on his left shoulder. Frieza's eyes widened in surprise at the sight. It was similar to the one that brought him here. "Wait, are you the one who saved me from meeting my demise?" Frieza asked.

"Yes, I am. I've had my eye on you for a while now, and I believe that you and I can be beneficial to each other for our. . .respective goals, to say the least." the stranger said, not minding the fact that the crow was now resting on his shoulder. "I have an offer to make, if you're interested that is." 

Frieza raised a 'brow' in suspicion. "As intriguing as that is. . .I would still like to know your name before we talk about your 'offer'."

"Oh! Right! Of course." the hooded figure said. "How rude of me. A thousand apologies, good sir. I'm called 'Montsechia'. Though you can call me just call me 'Monty' for now. Does that sound good?"

"I suppose it'll do. Now tell me, uh Monty, how do you plan on helping me?" Frieza asked. Monty smiled and said, "Oh, I'm so glad that you asked~." He stood up and led Frieza to a nearby table with two chairs that seemed to have been made from bone and silver. Where Monty got the bones from, Frieza didn't really want to know. But then again, it's not like he wasn't capable of performing disturbing acts himself. 

Frieza sat in his chair and waited for his savior to do the same. Upon sitting down, Monty snapped his fingers and it resulted in a bottle of wine and two crystal clear glasses to appear in front of the two. "Would you like a drink?" he asked. "It's chilled."

"I suppose." Frieza answered. 

Monty placed the glasses on the table and poured the dark red liquid in both of the glasses. He gave Frieza a glass and took a sip from his. Frieza looked at the contents of the glass. He sniffed it to see if there was something wrong with it. He didn't smell anything wrong, but that didn't mean that Monty didn't try anything. It could contain an odorless poison that could kill him in an instant.

"Is something on your mind, Lord Frieza?" Monty asked. "Did you put anything in this? Such as a poison that only affects its intended target?" Frieza questioned, acting as if Monty was a criminal in an interrogation room. And Monty reacted in a way Frieza didn't expect: he laughed. Frieza waited for him to stop so he can get his answer. 

"Oh my. . .You're not one to trust easily, are you?" Monty joked, having calmed down. 

"After what I've been through, of course not!" Frieza nearly shouted. 

Monty laughed once more at Frieza's little outburst, revealing a pair of sharp white fangs that glistened in the light from the white hot fire. "Oh, you truly are going to be fun to have around." he said, which caused Frieza to become embarrassed. What the hell is that supposed to mean?

After composing himself, Monty said, "Answer me this: Why would I save you only to then poison you? It'd be a waste, wouldn't it?"

". . ."

"Aw, what's wrong, Lord Frieza? Cat got your tongue?~" 

Frieza said nothing as he took a sip from his glass. He was pleasantly surprised by the taste. How did someone who lived in such. . .morbid and decrepit area have such a fine tasting wine like this? Frieza cleared his throat and said, "Well, I can see now that you mean no. . .physical harm. So tell me: why do you need my help with whatever it is that you're planning?" 

Monty placed his glass back on the table, and let out a sigh. "Well, normally I wouldn't need outside help, but I'm not exactly as great as I used to be back in my prime." 

In his prime? Just how old was this man?! Frieza thought he was a relatively young man, since he seemed to have smooth skin and sounded like he was barely a day over twenty. Maybe he belonged to an alien race that aged slowly or stopped aging at a certain point in their life. 

"I'm building an army. And I need a right hand man to help me with the process." Monty said honestly. Frieza blinked in surprise. "You want me as your right hand man? And what makes you think that I wish to follow you?" 

"Oh please, haven't you ever heard of the phrase, 'you scratch my back and I'll scratch yours'? If you help me build an army and take back what belongs to me, then I'll help you make the Frieza Empire the greatest force in the entire universe. I can make you the most fearsome being this solar system has ever seen and no one will ever question your rule." Monty said with a grin. "And all you have to so is help me, and everything that you desire will be yours. What do you say?" 

Frieza took a minute to think it over. There had to be more to this deal, right? It sounded too good to be true after all. But if he wanted to take down Goku and his friends, then he's going to need all the help he's going to get, especially if he wanted to be Emperor of the Universe. Besides, if this "Monty" proved to be troublesome in the future, he could always just kill him. 

Frieza took another sip from his wine, and after placing the now cool glass on the table, outstretched his hand for Monty to take.

"Very well, Monty. You've captured my interest. You have yourself a deal." 

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Location: Planet Earth, Capsule Corp. . . .

Brier took a sip from her wine glass as she watched everyone chatting amongst themselves. She herself wasn't in the mood to interact with anyone, for she was mentally drained and wanted to go back home to rest. The goddess stood up from where she sat and was going to walk to Beerus and get his attention. But she stopped in her tracks when she felt someone lightly tug on the skirt of her attire.

Brier turned to see that it was none other Goten and Trunks. "May I help you boys?" Brier asked. "I'm fine, but Goten wanted to say something to you, Miss Brier." Trunks said, gesturing to his dark haired friend. "I just wanted to say thank you for helping my dad." Goten told her. "Oh it wasn't a problem, Young Goten." Brier said, kneeling in front of the boy with a little smile. "Is there anything else that you wanted to say or was that it?" "If it's alright, can you show us more of those magic tricks like you did on Bulma's birthday?" Goten asked with a hopeful smile. The goddess's smile turned bigger and let out a little laugh before replying with, "Of course. What kind of tricks do you want to see?"

The first to reply was Trunks, now getting interested. "Can you do that trick with the butterflies? Only this time, can you make like a horse or something?" Brier nodded and with a flick of her wrist, created a big glowing rose red stallion made up of magical energy. Trunks and Goten became excited and immediately got up on the horse, which sprouted wings and began to ascend up in the air and took the boys for a ride.

Their parents and everyone else noticed and were amazed by the sight. Brier even heard young Marron ask her parents, Krillin and Android #18, if she could ride on the horse when Trunks and Goten were done. After Trunks and Goten were done, the young blonde girl was placed on the back of the magical stallion and began to go for a ride as well, with her mother #18 going with her to make sure she didn't fall.

Brier then felt a tap on her shoulder, and she turned to see that it was none other than Beerus. "What is it, love?" she asked. "It's time for us to leave. Whis has gone to bring back leftovers for us, so he'll be back soon." Beerus said. "Oh, is it?"

"We have no business here, and I can see that you're tired." Beerus added, placing his arm around her waist and bringing her body close to his. Brier nodded her head slightly and said, "Of course you noticed. I assume that this means that you want to for us to nap together again?" "We could. But if you still have enough energy, I can think of something else for us to do back home~" he whispered in her ear.

"!" The goddess face warmed up at the suggestion. "B-Beerus!" she nearly exclaimed, flustered. "What?" he said innocently, though Brier knew that his mind was anything but. Brier gave Beerus an amused smile and said, "Very funny, love. As tempting as that sounds, I'm afraid that I'll have to decline. I'm not in the mood." Beerus shrugged his shoulders and said, "Oh well. If that's what you want. I can settle for a nap with you."

"Oh I know you can." "Hey. . ."

Brier gave her husband a playful shove as she walked to the others to inform them of their departure. The first to notice her was Bulma and Goku. "Hey Lady Brier! How're you doing? Is everything alright?" Goku asked, taking a bite of a piece of barbecued meat he had on his plate. "I'm fine, Son Goku. I've simply come to inform you all that Beerus, Whis, and I are going to leave soon." Brier answered. "What? Already?"

"I apologize. But since we don't have any business here, we have to leave." Brier told him and Bulma. "Oh, well that's fine." Bulma said. "Again, I'm sorry for the three of us having to leave so suddenly." Brier said. Just as she was about to leave, Goku stopped her by asking, "Wait, Lady Brier! Are you guys still gonna come to Pan's party?" "Your granddaughter's party? Oh, is it to celebrate her birth?" Brier asked. "Yeah! I kind of haven't done anything for her yet, and Chi-Chi wants me to be a good grandpa for her." Goku explained.

"Hmmm. . .I suppose I can come as long I'm not too busy. And as for Beerus and Whis, they can come with me as well as long as there's good food for them." Brier said. "All right. And this time we'll be sure to have enough pudding for Lord Beerus to have!" Goku declared. "Goku! Don't go making promises that we can't probably keep!" Bulma told him. "What? You have money, so can't you just-"

Seeing that this was her time to leave, Brier bid everyone goodbye and walked back to her husband and Whis, who had a bag filled with food that the chefs made for them personally. The three deities left the planet and were now traveling through space with Whis in charge of taking them all home. During the ride, Brier fell asleep, causing Beerus to wrap his free arm around her body and to hold on tight, so that she didn't fall into the vacuum of space.

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Location: Beerus's Planet. . . .

Beerus woke up to find himself in bed with Brier, whose back was facing him. Beerus softly smiled as he made an attempt to bring her body close to his for warmth. But then he sensed the energy of three deities nearby. What made it odd was that they were three people he wasn't expecting to see for a while. Letting out a low growl, Beerus got out of bed and put on his shoes, ready to confront the trio near his planet. The destroyer made sure to silently close the door so that he didn't wake up Brier. As he was walking through the hallway, he made contact with Whis.

"You can sense it too, right?" Beerus asked. "Yes, I can." Whis answered. "Take me to him, now." Beerus ordered. Whis nodded and used his staff to transport the two off planet. They were now in front of the three unexpected visitors. He was primarily looking at his twin, Champa, with annoyance.

"I've heard of people getting lost, but you're taking it to new heights." Beerus said. "Ha! So you're awake for once, guess there is such a thing as miracles!" Champa said as a slight jest. "You wanna go?!" Beerus nearly shouted, but then he decided to take a minute to calm down. The sooner he can get this over with, the better. "You're in the 7th universe, Champa. Surely you know that as a Destroyer god of the 6th universe, you have no business being here." Beerus told him.

"Will you relax? We were just taking a short cut. Honestly, why do you feel the need to be such a stickler?" Champa said. "How Brier puts up with you, I'll never know." "What was that?" Beerus asked darkly. A woman with bright pink hair noticed Beerus' tone and was quick to jump in. "Please do forgive Lord Champa, Lord Beerus. He didn't mean anything by it." she said, trying to calm him down.

"And you're sure about that?" Beerus asked. "Of course! You know how he is sometimes, saying things without thinking."

"Camellia!" Champa shouted, his cheeks turning pink. "What?" Camellia said, genuinely confused. Not wanting this to take any longer, Beerus asked, "So what's the reason why you came?" "I told you already, the three of us were going on a stroll!" Champa declared loudly.

"If you say so. C'mon Whis, let's go back." Beerus told his angel. "Right away sir." Whis said. "W- Wait, that's it? You're just. . .gonna let it go like that?" Champa asked, shocked. "I'm a bit too tired to care at the moment. Just be glad that I am letting this go and not keeping you here for an interrogation." Beerus said as Whis took them back home.

Beerus and Whis both went their separate ways. The angel went to his room for some much needed alone time while Beerus went back to Brier's room so he could sleep next to her again. But as he opened the door, Beerus was shocked to see that she wasn't in the bed. He looked all over the room to find her, but she was no where in sight. Where was she?

The destroyer's ears picked up the sound of Brier humming a gentle tune, so he followed the sound to learn where she was. It led him straight to the bathroom, and as he opened the massive metal door, he was met with the sight of a naked Brier in the bathing pool. She stopped humming when she heard the door opening and closing, and turned her head to see Beerus by edge of the pool.

"Oh! You're back. Do you want to join me?" she asked, stretching out her wet hand for him to take if he wanted. Beerus nodded and removed every article of clothing he had on and took Brier's hand, joining her in the bath. He wrapped his arms around her body and brought her close to him, her back touching his chest. "So, who was here?" Brier asked. "My annoying brother Champa." Beerus mumbled, placing his chin on her bare shoulder.

"Really? For what reason did he decide to visit Universe #7?"

"I don't know. He said that he was going for a stroll, but I know that he was lying. He's up to something that he doesn't want me to know about."

"Beerus! Why must you always assume that he's up to something?"

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Location: Outer Space. . . .

"Vados, how many have we collected so far?" Champa asked. "So far, we have five in total." Vados answered. "And based on our luck so far, the last two will be much harder to find, yes?" Camellia asked. "It's possible." Vados said.

"That means that we have to be more careful from now on." Champa told them. "I don't want Beerus or Whis finding out that we're almost done with getting the Super Dragon Balls!"

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Montsechia "Monty" Info:

Voice Claim: Hexxus from Ferngully: The Last Rainforest

Age: N/A

Gender: Male

Species: Titan

Powers & Abilities: Magical Prowess

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AN: And that's a wrap on Book One! Thanks to those who stuck around to see how this would go! And in case you were wondering, I did make a picrew of what "Monty" will look like, from here on out, though it's as close as I could get anyway: please ignore the human ears and pretend that they are elf ears and that his hair is straight. As for the purple paint and the blood? Let's just say that he got a bit creative when designing his mask's look.

I'll do proper designs for all of the original characters at some point in the future when I can draw digitally.

Hope you'll check out Book Two when I post it here. If you want to read it right away, you can check out my Ao3 account.

[xalygatorx]

Unbound | Chapter 17, "Get Up"

Áine Ts'sambra—a wayward half-drow bard with a painful past—has her world upended when she's snatched up by a Nautiloid ship and furnished with a tadpole to the brain. In her journey to remove the infestation before it can turn her and her newfound companions illithid, she not only finds that their solution has more layers to parse through than she can count, but that a particular vampire in her party does as well.

Unbound is an ongoing generally SFW medium-burn romance based in the world of Baldur's Gate 3 between Astarion and a female OC. Any NSFW content will be marked in the Warnings section. Contains angst, fluff, explorations of trauma, spice, graphic fantasy violence, and a guaranteed happy ending.

For anything additional on what to expect (and not expect), check the preface post.

Summary: Already weakened from their fight with the duergar and subsequently Glut as well to protect Spaw’s circle, the party encounters their most monstrous enemy yet in the Underdark while they seek a place to rest. On their last legs and fighting for their lives, Áine reawakens an old power within herself to save them all at a cost. Astarion, mortally wounded and terrified for Áine, scraps with his allies as they try to help him. The group finds a safe spot to make camp and focus on recovering. An old acquaintance returns to Áine.

Pairing: Astarion x Fem!OC

Warnings: Graphic fantasy violence (appropriate for canon, but described in detail); blood; descriptions of pain and injury (seeing it on others and feeling it); grief; trauma and descriptions of trauma, panic, and anxiety responses; angst; comfort/hurt; close calls for canon characters; no one dies but I do love to toe that line, besties; suggestive dialogue and content; lightly proofread

Word Count: 9.3k

Listening to: Destroyer - Of Monsters and Men

“I knew that fucking mushroom was going to be trouble!”

“Seemed like a fun guy at first.”

“Karlach,” Wyll warned through a snicker at Gale’s joke, “he didn’t mean it.” More likely it was Wyll who didn’t mean what he was saying because Gale had gone all-in on that one.

Karlach was halfway between laughing and barbecuing their wizard. “Gods, I hate you both,” she seethed, her flames calming in time with her chuckling. “Affectionately.”

“Chk,” Lae’zel grumbled. “There is no overlap in love and rage.”

“There is when it comes to dealing with their puns, Lae,” Karlach noted, adjusting the straps of her pack. “Gods, I need a nap and away from these two… Áine!” Up ahead, the bard paused and glanced over her shoulder at the tiefling barbarian. “How long until we camp?!”

“Soon,” Áine called back, taking stock of their party while she was half-turned. They were all tired and battered—the duergar had proven a tough fight, especially when their plan to take them by surprise had failed and one of the slavers had raised a small army of zombified corpses to fight on their behalf. Gale had helped to minimize the damage by destroying the rope ladders connecting the wooden platforms and funneling them into a singular nearby path, but they’d still taken a beating. 

And then there was Glut. They’d no sooner finished one fight before another was started and they’d had to kill the clanless myconid, who’d attacked them as soon as Áine refused to betray Spaw’s confidence.

They’d meant to take a more straightforward path back to Spaw’s circle, but the path had led them in a more roundabout route than intended and they were now more fatigued than ever. At least the path forward was clear—the Selûnite outpost was just up ahead and with a couple of short climbs, they’d be back near its crumbling walls and able to retrace their familiar path from its gates, back to their old camp.

“What do we think?” Áine asked no one in particular. “Keep going until we’re back to the circle?”

“The outpost is just there,” Shadowheart pointed out, unable to keep the wrinkle from her nose when she gazed upon the outpost again. Áine resisted rolling her eyes. “I don’t recall the circle being too far from where we ran into those minotaurs, do you?”

Áine shook her head. “Not too far, no. And we are likely the safest there while we recover.”

“It sounds as though our best option is to make our way back in full,” Halsin supplied, supportive of their conjectures in his reaffirming way. He cast a glance across the others, his features a little grave as he took in the smattering of split lips, bruises, and limps. “Anyone opposed?”

Silence stretched and Áine drew in a deep breath and nodded to herself. She looked to her side, meeting Astarion’s eyes as she said, “We keep moving then.” He nodded once, equally roughed up but ready to settle down somewhere he felt safe enough to meditate and heal. He walked along just behind Áine as she approached a rocky incline and said, “If anyone starts to feel otherwise, please say something, alright?”

There was a collective murmur of agreement as the group fell into step behind her. Áine set her jaw and prepared for her body to protest as she scaled the craggy outcrop. It echoed its ongoing soreness with renewed fervor, but she made it to the top just fine. Her shoulder was even cooperating for once and it made her a little more optimistic about their journey back.

She was so focused on assessing her condition that she didn’t notice the statue she’d risen beside until it nearly scared her out of her skin. Áine hopped back, prepared for a fight until she realized it was merely stone. On closer inspection, she saw that it was a life-sized statue of a drow in mercenary garb. 

On even closer inspection, she realized it had once been a drow. It wasn’t stone-carved, it was a petrified elf. “What in the Hells…,” she murmured, her fingertips tracing along its arm.

“A statue?” Gale asked, stepping to the other side of the petrified drow and lightly knocking against its shoulder. 

“Not always, I don’t think,” Áine murmured, her eyes shifting further down the path and seeing more of the same. She raised her voice slightly as she ordered the party, “On your guard.”

“Always,” Lae’zel murmured in confirmation, her hand resting against the hilt of her sword as her reptilian eyes traced the eerie plateau.

Áine neared another of the petrified drow mercenaries, noting that this one was unmasked. The look of unbridled terror on his face, frozen into eternity, sent a chill down her spine. There was no telling when this had happened exactly, but every survival instinct she had urged her not to linger. “Let’s hurry up t—”

She was cut off by an unnatural rumble through the ground beneath her feet. Áine steadied herself, glancing toward her friends also struggling to keep their footing. “Another bulette?” Wyll wondered aloud. It did seem the most likely based on their experiences so far, but Áine’s urge to hasten away intensified nonetheless.

“I don’t want to find out, let’s go,” Áine said, turning around to step back down to the plateau and get to the break in the outpost wall. She didn’t manage more than the turn before she looked up and saw precisely what had created this purgatorial statue garden they stood amongst.

Spines rippling with every undulation of its ghastly tentacles, the monster that had upset the earth in its uprising lifted into the air and opened its singular, enormous yellow eye. Its pupil spasmed and adjusted, skittering between them for just seconds until its mouth opened on a scream, the expression splitting its nightmarish face in twain.

“RUN!” Karlach shouted, jarring them all from their varied states of panicked freezing. 

Bolts of light shot from the ends of the spectator’s appendages, barely missing Áine and Gale, but hitting Shadowheart and Halsin. The bolts paralyzed them, rooting them in place with only their eyes able to move. Any plan to retreat was shelved then and those still able to move turned to fight.

Gale was the quickest to react, unleashing a fireball at the creature and hitting it squarely in the eye. It screeched and flung an appendage at him, sending him sprawling against a nearby outcrop. He clutched his side, rivulets of blood weaving from beneath his hair and across his temple as he shot more fire at the creature. “Ardē!”

Arrows sliced the air from Astarion’s bow, finding purchase in the creature’s leathery skin and the jelly of its eye. Lae’zel surged forward, sword in hand, only pausing along the way to free Shadowheart from her paralysis. The cleric looked jarred but nodded to the githyanki in thanks as she quickly dredged up what healing magic she had left, spreading it across the group. 

After Halsin was also cured of his paralysis, Wyll concentrated his final dregs of power to unleash bolts of red eldrich energy upon the beast, unsheathing his rapier when he felt his strength draining from the effort to little avail. Nearby, Karlach screamed wrath into her veins, aflame as she took her battleaxe into the fray and hacked at one of the spectator’s tentacles.

Their confidence was momentary. Fleeting, even, as their preexisting injuries screamed back to life, worsened or accompanied by new ones with every bite, every hit, and every bolt the monster threw their way. They were reminded that they’d meant to retreat, only fighting out of necessity, when the spectator took a chunk from Halsin’s broad, blackened shoulder with its needly teeth and flung him into the dirt near Gale. 

The appendages ignited anew with bolts of what they first thought would be another paralysis spell but instead found purchase on the petrified drow. Reinvigorated from stasis, the mercenaries were propelled into the spectator’s defense and caught the party’s blades with their own. 

Astarion’s attention diverted to sinking arrows into the resurrected drow, finding his shots counting for more against the smaller enemies descending upon their companions. He was unloading an ice-imbued arrow into a mercenary nearing Áine’s flank when the spectator unleashed a new wave of paralysis that caught him in its turning tide. The arrow had found its target, loosed just before the light struck him. 

His crimson eyes froze wide as the spectator descended upon him, shredding his torso and right arm with its teeth. He was left unable to scream his agony as his blood poured from the gaping wounds, his undead body barred from beginning any sort of healing process until he could move again. 

Cold blood waterfalled from his slashes as the spectator ravaged their frozen, bloodied friends, only Karlach, Lae’zel, and Áine left mobile. He felt his body growing colder, his mind growing fuzzier and number, sending him back in time to when this was his normal state of mind, bloodless and barely alive. If he could have shuddered, his body would’ve made him. Instead, he remained frozen in time, his struggle against the enchantment rooting him in place weakening with every second he continued to bleed.

It occurred to him that only seconds had gone by, seconds that felt like eons, when he heard Áine scream his name. With effort, he focused on her. Unfortunately, so did their foe. As the creature turned on her, suddenly bleeding out in his paralysis wasn’t his worst fate. 

Watching this thing kill the woman he adored and being unable to save her was.

Áine had been working off adrenaline and horror ever since the monstrosity hovering over them had hurled Gale to the ground. Each time one of them was paralyzed, it was a race with just her battered legs and her swords to fend it off one of her defenseless friends before it killed them in their stasis. Suddenly it was just herself, Lae’zel, and Karlach left moving. The drow were all dispatched save two. Áine had rushed to help when she saw Karlach roll with one of the resurrected elves over the edge of their plateau and disappear, only stumbling to a stop when the one Lae’zel had been fighting threw the injured gith against a rock and came at her instead.

An arrow had sliced the air and punctured his side, a sweep of ice blossoming beneath the drow’s feet that immediately sent him down on his face. Áine’s mistake had been to assume that was enough in her desperation to get her blades back into the monster assaulting her friends, her vision tunneled into protecting her loved ones as she’d slid on the ice herself and fallen on the drow’s upturned blade. 

The possessed mercenary thrust up into her when she slipped and Áine gasped, muffling a low whine of pain as she stabbed her scimitar into his neck, effectively finishing him off. She looked down at the long, spindly dagger he’d plunged into her stomach and her fingers twitched, aching to pull it out despite knowing she shouldn’t. She felt a familiar tickle of drow poison spreading through her, but her resistance was such that pulling the dagger out and letting her wound bleed more freely was the larger danger. 

The keening of stripping metal and tearing of flesh broke her bemusement and she whirled, tracing the spectator and seeing amongst its multitudes of teeth—

“Astarion!”

Gods above, there was so much blood. All around her, but leaking without pause from his pale body, his armor shredded where he spurted red. This can’t be the end…

Her vision shifted as her wounds and her panic at seeing her lover and her friends so horrifically mangled sank into her mind. She didn’t see the spectator change course. She wasn’t even sure she would have cared if she had. Perhaps she would have felt relief that it turned its attention away from Astarion onto her. Maybe he could get away.

Áine’s eyes rose to meet the spectator’s gaze, her features taut with defiance as she stabbed both her scimitars into its dripping, lacerated sclera. It responded with an unearthly shriek and a hurl of its tentacles that slammed her like a ragdoll into a nearby stalagmite with a hard crack.

The scream in Astarion’s throat was half-loosed when the paralysis finally wore off, but the condition’s fade sent him immediately tumbling to the ground, into puddles of his own blood. Shaking, he raised himself on his elbows, his nails digging and scraping against the plateau gravel as he tried to drag himself forward. The sensation brutalized his mind with intrusive flashbacks—the scratching and clawing against a stone crypt lid, painstakingly picking dirt out of the ridges after seizing against the dungeon floor for hours after being whipped, beaten, and carved into. He ignored them, unwilling to let his last thoughts be those long wretched years. If anything would be his and his alone, it would be his death.

“No, you can’t die,” he gritted out, his voice barely managing above a murmur as he clawed the dirt in a daze, desperately trying to get to Áine. What would he even do when he got there? 

She was slumped in a heap on the ground next to the rock she’d hit, her shiny pearl locks bathed red and pooled around her face. A dagger he hadn’t even seen pierce her stomach was buried to the hilt and poked past her arm folded beside her. The spectator made a breathy noise that almost sounded like a laugh and the odious air flowing from its jaws stirred Áine’s hair. It was the only movement Astarion saw from her. 

He snarled, one of his palms slipping in blood and sending him to the ground again. “Get up, damn you!” he growled, but his voice cracked in desperation.

Áine, barely lucid, slowly tilted her head, looking through hair stained red at Astarion. Around them, the paralysis was slowly wearing off the few it affected, Shadowheart included, but the damage was so great and the situation so hopeless that the freed immediately collapsed beneath both. Áine’s vision blurred and she heard Astarion plead with her as if through a long, narrow hallway, his words clear but far away.

Subconsciously, she extended her arm, reaching for him despite knowing neither of them could make the crawl. She winced at the simple movement, her body rending around every injury. She could feel her pulse, an irregular burning around the dagger buried in her belly. Get up, she growled inwardly, her mind’s voice sounding a mix of hers, Astarion’s, and voices from her past, not all of them fond. 

Shaking, she withdrew her outstretched hand and planted it against the ground, her bicep straining as she tried to do as he asked. The hilt of the dagger clacked against the dirt, sending a new shock of pain through her body and she shuddered, a hiss escaping between clenched teeth. Áine managed to push herself up just enough to turn towards the lingering spectator, her body vibrating with the effort while her legs remained buckled beneath her. A cough wracked her body and a spatter of blood projected from her parted lips.

The spectator blinked slowly, its lids hitting the hilts of her blades still sheathed in its eye. It seemed undeterred, its gigantic, slobbering tongue slipping over the surface of its teeth as it stared at her and then began to advance again.

She heard her name croaked again from the vampire lying nearby, too weak to even sit up despite trying desperately to. She could hear his hands splashing against the gore he crawled through, too drained to find purchase on the slickened cave floor. 

Áine’s mind remained addled with her own urgent demands to her body, her memories surfacing in a mingling of voices. Astarion’s, Shadowheart’s, the illithids’, even her father’s. Was this what people meant when they spoke of one’s life flashing before their eyes? Was she dying? 

No. No, she wouldn’t die. None of them would. An old voice resonated in her, reminding her, and her mind traced the contours of that voice with recognition, finding within it a buried ancient power she’d long refused, ignored until it faded into ether and the bearer of that voice left her too. Áine, for the sake of her new family, would embrace them both now.

She shoved herself up once more on one shaking, bleeding arm and with the last of her might extended her other hand toward the looming creature, its bared teeth littered with scraps of their flesh and smears of their blood. Its maw split open, still hungry, still eager to strip every scrap of her skin, every ounce of her defiance off her bones. 

A deadly silence fell over them all until all that could be heard was the crackle of building power around Áine’s hand, a building flush of emerald light blaring from her fingertips and the slits of her half-hooded eyes as, in the quiet that also extinguished the vocal clamor in her mind, one final word caressed her conscience with a tone of recognition. 

“Oathbreaker.”

The crack that split the air was deafening and, for a second, scattered conscious members of the party feared that Gale’s orb had detonated. A blinding, sickly green light erupted from Áine’s hand. When the light cleared, the spectator lay in steaming slices of viscera across the cavern floor. 

When the ringing in Astarion’s ears faded, he heard Áine collapse, unmoving against the rocks. No, was the only word he could think with any clarity and it grew repetitious and feral as his terror and fading condition mingled. No no no no no no no no no no no—

Something touched him and he snarled, swiping backward with one blood-covered hand. He heard Shadowheart mutter at him to stop moving as she dodged around him and turned him over to assess his damage while looking half-dead herself. 

“Don’t touch me!” Astarion hissed, attempting to shove her hands away from his destroyed armor but finding himself too weak to win the battle of wills. The realization just made him further lose his composure.

“Hold still!” she snapped, prying apart what she could of his scrapped armor to get at the deep wounds beneath. Shadowheart caught Astarion’s wrists, drawing another angry snarl from the vampire spawn fighting against her aid. “Wyll, help me!”

Wyll’s face appeared in Astarion’s vision and the Blade took hold of his wrists from Shadowheart, pinning his arms above his head and away from her work. Astarion’s anger bordered on panic. There were too many hands on him and he was too weak to rid himself of any of them. He hissed and growled, still struggling despite knowing somewhere in the back of his mind that they were trying to help him. All he could think of was getting them off him and Ái—

“Go help her,” Astarion gritted, snapping at Wyll’s arm when it came within reach. The Blade held fast, avoiding his fangs and maintaining his bruising hold on the vampire’s arms. Seething, Astarion shouted at Shadowheart, “Go to Áine and get off me!”

“You are dying, Astarion,” Shadowheart finally snapped, near-black bruises under her eyes as she forced her remaining magic through her fingertips as they pressed into his torso. 

“So is she,” he tried to snarl back, but the words came out with a panicked whine. He twisted desperately to try and see past Wyll to where Áine had collapsed. He got a vantage point just as Halsin and Lae’zel stooped to peel her limp body off the floor. “Bleeding Hells, Áine!”

“Halsin will help her until I can, but you’re in more dire shape than she is and she will never forgive either of us if you die,” Shadowheart gritted, finding Astarion even harder to hold in place now that he’d seen Áine. 

“I don’t care!” Astarion spat, his eyes rolling back in his head as his vision blurred sideways again. “I don’t care, just help her—please—”

Shadowheart felt panic lance through her as Astarion started to lose his focus. At least when he was fighting her, she knew he was lucid, but he was drifting again and she could only assume the worst. “Shit,” she snapped, holding his face as his head started to roll sideways. “Stay with me. Astarion!”

Wyll looked at her, panic in his eyes that only flared further when she pulled one of Astarion’s daggers from his belt. “What are you doing?”

“He needs blood,” Shadowheart said under her breath, her features contorted in pain from her own injuries. 

“Let me,” Wyll quickly said, holding out his hand. Astarion was half-conscious and had stilled his struggle in his delirium. “I’m in more of a condition to do so.”

Shadowheart hesitated, but he was right and they both knew it. She hesitated, handing him the dagger and switching her hands down to Astarion’s wrists. Wyll sliced his palm with a quick wince and held his dripping hand over Astarion’s mouth, squeezing the wound. There was a moment of uneasy stillness before Astarion’s entire body seized, almost succeeding in bucking Shadowheart off him as he lunged up toward the source of the blood. Wyll jolted but held his ground as Shadowheart wrestled the drained vampire back down onto his back. 

“That’s enough,” Shadowheart said as she saw Astarion’s pupils begin to react more normally when shadows passed over them. “That will help and we’ll still be able to cart him to wherever we set up if he fusses again.”

Wyll retracted his hand, starting to scout a makeshift bandage when he felt Shadowheart’s fingertips against his, a gentle light cascading from the touch to knit his cut closed. Wyll looked up, meeting Shadowheart’s tired but grateful gaze. “Thank you.”

Realizing they were lingering, the two quickly retracted their hands and set back to work on getting Astarion into a stable enough state to move him. Astarion had grown slightly more aware with some fresh blood returned to his system, but he felt dissociated from himself. When his eyes did wander, they tried to follow Halsin’s hulking form as he struggled to find Áine again. 

He couldn’t stop thinking about the way her head had lolled on her neck when they’d picked her up, not an ounce of fight left in her. Furthest from his mind at that moment was what she’d done to save them all. He didn’t care as long as it meant she’d saved herself, too.

It made very little sense to Áine, when she awoke, that she was still alive. It simply didn’t add up. Not the way she felt her eyes open in such a familiar corporeal sense, not the warm hands she felt resting against her stomach, and not the way her persistent, stubborn heart still thudded in her chest. 

But her eyes did open. So who was she to argue?

Past the fringe of her lashes, she saw a blur of dancing blue light, a shimmer of iridescent motes. When her amber eyes focused, she saw the bioluminescent spores for what they were, aglow as they wove in through the flap of her tent from outside. Their song thrummed gently against her aching head and seemed to settle among her bruises and cuts, their faint warmth second to the touch against her waist.

Gingerly, Áine turned her head to regard the cleric hunched over her. Shadowheart’s focus was solely on the wound she was pulling together in Áine’s gut, the dagger that had made it set aside near her medical pouch. The pouch was dotted with blood as if the dagger, coated in the substance, had been thrown down in a hurry. The shadows under the cleric’s eyes were nearly black against her ashen skin and while her hands appeared still against Áine’s flesh, she could feel the faint tremble in them through the wound they covered.

Áine tried to speak but found her throat dry as a bone. Shadowheart heard the little sound she made at least and her eyes flickered to the bard under her care. “Welcome back,” Shadowheart murmured, an attempt at humor.

“Did you have to revive me?” Áine asked, managing to find her voice this time but just barely.

“No,” Shadowheart said, the glow fading from her palms as she removed her hands to reveal a fresh scar where the drow’s dagger had run Áine through. “But it was close. Not just for you.”

“Is everyone—?”

“Don’t stress yourself and undo my work,” Shadowheart scolded Áine as she tried to sit up too quickly. “Everyone is alive. We’re back in the circle. We’re safe…” She gave Áine a peculiar look. “Thanks to you.”

Áine let out a shaky sigh of relief to hear the others were all alright. She parsed back through what she could remember before blacking out, but it was scattered. More vividly than what she’d done specifically, she remembered that whisper in her mind, the familiar gravelly voice as vivid in memory as in life. “Oathbreaker.” 

At least it had worked.

Áine glanced at Shadowheart’s imploring eyes, feeling bare under the other woman’s scrutiny. She focused on the shadows beneath her eyes again and the bruises and cuts she could see scattered across her uncovered skin. “You should rest, too,” she informed the cleric. When Shadowheart grimaced, Áine insisted, “Seriously. You’ve done more than enough. Take care of yourself for a while. Please?”

“Fine, fine,” Shadowheart mumbled, waving Áine off as she gathered her things back into her pouch. She plucked up the bloodied dagger with a sneer of resentment. “I’m going to rid us of this unless you want it for some reason.”

“I’ve had enough of it, thanks,” Áine murmured.

Shadowheart nodded but didn’t yet budge from Áine’s side. She broke her troubled silence just as Áine was about to insist again that she go get some rest. “You know… Whatever you were before we met, before you were a bard, it’s okay,” she said, catching Áine off-guard. “It won’t change anything, even if you feel it might.”

Áine frowned. “I’m not so sure.”

Shadowheart nodded, meeting Áine’s eyes. “I understand. And I can’t speak for everyone, of course. But I can relate in a way. I felt the same fear when I hadn’t yet told you I was a Sharran. And, for whatever that’s worth in relation to what you’re dealing with, that ended up okay.”

“It’s different. You’re not riddled with shame for it,” Áine said, trying to gentle her curt tone. “But I understand your meaning. And I’ll take it to heart.”

“That’s all I ask,” Shadowheart said, patting Áine’s hand. “That and for you to check on Astarion when you feel ready to get up and around again. Not that you wouldn’t regardless, but—”

“Is he alright?” Áine asked with renewed urgency. Memories of his torso slashed apart, his panicked frozen eyes, and how he’d tried to drag himself to her flashed through her mind.

“He is,” Shadowheart hastened to reassure her. “He wouldn’t be if you hadn’t done what you did. None of us would be, I don’t think. But he made it very difficult to save him and I’m worried I didn’t find all his injuries before he ran me off.”

“Ran you off?” Áine repeated.

“It took me and Wyll to stabilize him on that cliff so we could move him,” Shadowheart told her. “He was fighting us nearly the entire time and telling us not to touch him.” Áine’s heart stung. “And yelling at us to go help you instead. Then when we finally got back and I took you over from Halsin, we had to all but cram him into his tent for him to leave your side and actually rest. Succeeding that, he wouldn’t let anyone in to finish cleaning up his wounds and—”

Shadowheart was becoming more and more impassioned and blustering as she recounted it, only pausing when Áine rested her hand against the cleric’s arm. “I’ll go.” Shadowheart was frustrated and Áine could see it, but she only got this flustered when she was also worried.

“Right. Thank you,” Shadowheart said breathily through a sigh as she ran a hand across her forehead. Her palms and fingertips were speckled with blood she’d missed between patients and her nails were crusted with dirt and grime. She looked like she could pass out at any moment and it was finally that fatigue hitting that encouraged her to follow Áine’s advice. “I think I’ve said it before,” she said as she turned to leave, “but I can’t remember in my current headspace if I’ve said it aloud to you… I was wrong about him.”

Áine adjusted to her side so she could push herself into a seated position. “How so?”

“I told you a while back that I doubted his intentions with you,” Shadowheart explained. “And I still sort of did, even after he asked me about your shoulder. But I was wrong. He loves you. Dearly.”

Áine blushed and the color got mixed in with the bruises splotching her skin. “I wouldn’t go that far, but—”

“Oh, I would,” Shadowheart insisted. “You should see the way he looks at you, especially when he thinks no one’s paying him any mind. Then you wouldn’t be able to argue with me.”

“I’m sure I’d still find a way,” Áine mused, gathering her hair into a low side-ponytail and noting with some alarm how streaked with blood her hair was. She wasn’t sure what she expected, but she supposed she’d just forgotten both how much she’d bled and how much blood she’d fallen into in general during the fight.

“Hm. Probably,” Shadowheart hummed. “Take it easy tonight.”

“I will,” Áine assured her, watching her leave before slowly staggering to her feet. She ducked through her tent door as well, her eyes finding the cleric and watching her progress back to her tent. 

Shadowheart started to deviate toward Halsin, who was working on closing a wound on Gale’s scalp. She hesitated and glanced furtively back as she felt Áine’s eyes on her. Áine gave her a scolding look that put Shadowheart back on a path to her tent, not satisfied until the cleric was in her tent with the bit of canvas falling back into place behind her. 

Satisfied, Áine scoped out the camp, noting Halsin and Gale again but not resting until she also scoped out Wyll, Karlach, and Lae’zel. The last she’d seen of Karlach, the tiefling had been scrapping with one of the drow mercenaries and it had taken both of them over a ledge, but at a glance, she seemed the most intact of all of them. 

Wyll looked more or less just a bit bruised with a few treated cuts to his name and he was assisting Karlach in checking a wound on Lae’zel’s head. Lae’zel had only agreed to Karlach evaluating her wounds, as she saw a sister-in-arms in the tiefling and felt less scrutinized by a fellow warrior. However, Karlach couldn’t touch Lae’zel without setting the young githyanki ablaze, so Wyll was permitted to be Karlach’s hands, carefully moving Lae’zel’s bloodied hair so they could check the damage.

From Áine’s vantage point, they looked like they were doing well to take care of each other, which meant she could feel zero qualms about going to see Astarion and likely staying there for the rest of the night thereafter if he let her. They’d been cohabitating since he’d confided in her just a couple of nights back, but she’d never seen him in such a state of injury and figured there was a chance he preferred to weather those conditions alone. 

Meeting her comrades’ gazes as she passed them to get to his tent door, she exchanged smiles and reassuring looks with each, her heart full and her head light with relief that everyone, somehow against their odds, had survived another night. As put-together as she seemed on the surface though, her mind hadn’t stopped racing along with her heart since she remembered how badly wounded Astarion was before she fainted. Neither slowed until she was able to peek through the door of his tent and confirm he was inside, alive and in a deep reverie.

Áine held a hand against her aching heart, a sigh easing from her chest and relaxing her frame. He was okay.

Astarion lay on his bedroll, his fingers curled into small circles for his meditation and his skin littered with cuts and bruises. Shadows bloomed as dark as Shadowheart’s under his closed eyes, standing out against his porcelain pallor, dark petals against snow. He was without a shirt, either of his choosing or something Shadowheart and Wyll had managed to do when they’d fought to stabilize him. His pants remained but they were tattered from the battle, slashed through in several places. 

To Áine’s relief, the wounds she remembered pouring blood to stone looked well on their way to healing. His chest rose and fell with even breaths despite not needing to breathe. She was glad he did anyway—it reassured her in times like this.

Her gaze shifted down to a small bowl of water and a cloth near the bedroll, the bowl half spilled across the dirt beside it. A relic of Shadowheart’s scrap with him, she supposed. Áine shook her head as she carefully sank to her knees beside him and submerged the cloth in the lukewarm water, wringing it over the basin. Didn’t he understand that whatever vigil he may have kept in or outside her tent would have done her no good at all if it hindered his healing? 

She smirked softly as she supposed he probably hadn’t thought that far at all. He rarely could think more than two steps ahead into a plan at any given time.

Áine started with his arms, carefully wiping away the remnants of blood Shadowheart had been unable to get to and Astarion had likely left in favor of tending to his pain and exhaustion. She took her time to be thorough, humming the melody to “Lilac & Gooseberries” under her breath while she worked, musing over how she could change more of the lyrics to suit his fine qualities. When she felt a sliver of her bardic abilities touch upon the tune, she allowed them to flow in, giving the strokes she made with the cloth a touch of magic to help along his recovery.  

She sighed again, soft and more sad this time. My poor boy, she thought, locating his essential oils near one of the pillows she’d brought from her tent and adding a couple of drops to the basin before she began cleaning the blood from his chest and neck. He was okay and she knew that. He’d go hunt and be better in a day’s time and he was already most assuredly more healed up than she was. She just kept thinking back to the look on his face after she’d gone down, and kept hearing that crack in his voice as he’d begged her to get back up. 

It was possible, she thought while she featherlight cleansed his neck, face, and ears, that she may not have found it within herself to reawaken that old, unexplored power had she not felt compelled to push through for him. She was giving up before hearing his voice. She’d felt herself buckle, delirious with pain and fatigue, and flood with despair at seeing her friends so broken. At seeing him so broken, too. She’d started to lose hope.

A star in the Underdark, indeed, she thought, thinking she was perhaps still a little delirious with pain when she noted the sappiness of her own musings. She felt herself smile even though it aggravated the split in her lip. Áine drew her lower lip between her teeth, fidgeting with the healing cut while she moved on to Astarion’s hair, meticulously smoothing the red tints from his silver strands.

She didn’t notice he was conscious until a few minutes after he first opened his eyes, too focused on tending to his curls. When her eyes met his, she found them already on her bearing a mix of emotions, some of which she couldn’t quite translate. One almost looked like anger.

Áine’s lips curled in the beginnings of a smile that fell away when he suddenly bolted upright. They stared at each other—Astarion agitated and Áine bewildered—until Áine’s gaze once more traced the dark shadows beneath his scarlet eyes and held out her wrist. Astarion looked between her confused expression and the vein she offered him before scowling as if insulted and swatting her arm away. 

More flummoxed than before, Áine’s eyes narrowed and she parted her lips to speak, but he lunged forward and swallowed her words, his hand catching around the back of her neck as he angled her head and kissed her hard. She made a small noise of complaint against his lips, bracing her hands against his chest when he crowded her with his body. 

Regardless of his reasoning, Áine was uncomfortable and her wounds were aching as he pulled her closer and she slapped his cheek with as much force as he’d swatted her wrist away. It was enough to jar him and he withdrew, looking at her with shock that had mirrored hers just moments ago. 

“Cut it out,” Áine mumbled once her mouth was free, the split on her lower lip feeling like it might bleed again. “Astarion, stop,” she said emphatically when he yanked her closer by her belt, slapping his hands away from the buckle.

His eyes, somehow far away and yet present enough to react, flashed with hurt. “I…,” he faltered, his empty hands hovering with nothing to touch as he tried to reroute his reactions. “Darling, I’m sorry, I just need to be close to you.”

“Then come here and be close to me, my love,” Áine suggested simply and with a patience beyond her years. She guided him to her and folded him in her arms, one of her hands moving to cradle his face as he buried his head against her chest. “Is this better?”

“Yes,” he murmured almost too softly for her to hear. She felt his tears trickle over her hand before she heard them in his voice. “I thought I’d lost you.”

Áine felt her faint frustration with him melt away along with the presentation of his poor coping mechanisms that had caused it in the first place. “You didn’t.”

Astarion craned his head back to look at her, his ear still pressed to her heart. His eyes were rimmed in red. “But I almost did,” he argued in a whisper, a quiet crack in his voice.

“And I almost lost you,” Áine murmured, sniffing against her own tears that threatened to come. “But I didn’t. We didn’t. We’re both alive and on the mend.”

“I don’t think you understand, dearheart,” he said, clearly very shaken. “I can never feel like that again.”

Áine frowned, smoothing her thumb against his tear-dappled cheekbone. “We will,” she told him honestly, not liking it any more than he did. “Probably several times before this is over.”

“Well, that’s…,” he paused, drawing a shaking breath. “That’s shit.”

The bard offered him a smile dipped in nothing but understanding and sympathy. “That’s life.”

Astarion scoffed. “There has to be something I can do,” he seemed to muse exclusively to himself. “If at the source of the tadpoles’ creation, we can sort what controls the cult, the parasites, even the Absolute, too, then—”

“Astarion,” Áine admonished him, her tone flat and unyielding. He stopped and looked at her, his expression pleading. “Power doesn’t make you safe. In fact, it often does the opposite.”

“Darling, I need the means to protect you,” he murmured through clenched teeth as he sat up from her arms, his hands moving to cradle her face. “To protect myself, to protect both of us.”

“I don’t need protecting,” she told him, her hands resting over his and holding them to her cheeks. Áine turned her head just enough to kiss the inside of his wrist. “This is the risk we take in—,” she sighed, kicking her anxiety aside, “in loving each other. Especially in our present circumstances.”

“Well, I hate it,” he snapped, his tone severe even as he stroked her face as carefully as if she were made of glass. 

Áine raised a brow at him. A mostly teasing challenge. “You want out?”

“No!” Astarion muttered, tensing with embarrassment at how quickly he’d shot down the notion.

Áine tried to contain her smile but failed utterly. “Good. I don’t either.”

Astarion finally smiled a little and the sight eased the tightness in Áine’s chest. “Good,” he echoed. “May I kiss you now?”

“Depends why you want to,” Áine said. “Is it still old motions?”

“No,” he assured her, still occasionally blown away by how much of him she truly saw. It was becoming less jarring every time. “I just want to kiss you.”

“Then please do,” Áine said with a smile, giggling when her face was immediately peppered with kisses. He relished the sound of her delight before pressing his lips to hers again, his fearful urgency gone and replaced with a gentle savoring that did perfectly well to coax them both back into their bed for the remainder of their rest. 

Áine fell asleep in Astarion’s arms, a thing that was now common practice for them but felt much more significant and rare when they’d even for a moment questioned the possibility that they’d ever have this again. 

She woke to a faint tugging on her ponytail and when her eyes fluttered open, she saw the cloth she’d been using to clean the blood off Astarion being used to gently wipe down her hair. Áine watched him work for a moment, admiring his hands, before she traced the line of his arm up to his face. He briefly met her eyes to smile at her before he focused back on his task of painstakingly smoothing every reddened layer from her white locks. 

“Good ‘morning’,” he said, using the term loosely as it was just as dark outside as when they’d finally settled in. 

“Hello, love,” Áine mumbled, leaning her cheek against his shoulder. She noticed the water in the basin had darkened, which told her he’d managed to sort through more of her hair than she first realized. “How did you manage to do all this without waking me sooner?”

Astarion smirked. “Roguish stealth and dexterity, my dear,” he answered simply. “I’m afraid though that because of the oils you added to the basin last night, you’ll smell like me now.”

Áine laughed. “I probably already did.”

“Because you’re mine,” he grumbled as he leaned in to kiss her temple, reaching over her to wet the cloth again and wring it out. 

The bard smirked. “Am I now? And what am I to you exactly?”

She’d never seen Astarion get so immediately flustered. His hand froze against the basin and nearly caught the edge and knocked it sideways until he steadied himself. He cleared his throat so hard he had to turn into his sleeve to cough. Were he not low on blood, she was sure he’d be a cherry red. “Well, I…,” he mumbled, realizing she was waiting for an answer. Astarion made an impatient noise in his throat, “Oh I don’t know! But isn’t it nice? Not to know?”

Áine snorted. “Is it?” She hadn’t expected this response, but it was an interesting one.

Astarion groaned and gestured vaguely when words didn’t immediately come to him. “Well, you’re not a victim. Not a target. Not just one-night-it’s-better-to-forget,” he listed off, seeming to find it difficult to look her in the eyes lest she see the vulnerability there. As if she hadn’t seen it before. “But then… Whatever in the world could you be?”

“Is this a test?” Áine asked, raising an eyebrow.

He sighed loudly as he brought the cloth back to her hair, working on the last few streaks so he could have a secondary reason to not look at her expression. “Well, what would you call this?”

“You mean what would I call us?” Áine bartered.

Astarion bit down a small, schoolboyish smile. “I do still like the sound of that,” he mumbled. Áine melted a little. What a silly man this was. She leaned up and kissed him, a smile curling her lips as she felt him melt into her. When they parted, he tenderly added, “And I do rather like that, you know.”

Áine smiled. “I know,” she murmured, nuzzling his cheek. “I do, too.”

He hummed, ducking his head to brush noses with her. “Thank you, by the way,” he murmured. Before she could ask what for, he bridged the gap and told her, “For snapping me out of my habits. For not taking advantage. For being patient with me.”

Áine’s gaze softened. “No need to thank me,” she told him, her voice a gentle lull. “Thank you for telling me what you needed and letting me help.”

Astarion’s stare became unfathomable and it was mesmerizing for Áine to simply watch the way his features shifted. He swallowed, but the motion looked difficult. “No need to thank me, dearest,” he murmured finally, nodding a little to himself after as he reaffirmed that this was something he could do, something reasonably expected. Something healthy. Something real.

“I would call us partners, for what it’s worth,” Áine answered him at last as he set the cloth back in its bowl. “And I’d also call us late to breakfast based on that aroma coming in.”

Astarion smirked. “You’re late to breakfast, dear,” he corrected her as he rolled the word “partners” around in his mind, testing it against his tongue without moving his mouth. Equal standing, level field, two halves of a whole. He snorted softly as Áine got up to get ready to leave their tent. Cute. He wasn’t entirely sure whether the word crossed his mind in response to her answer or to just watching her get up and around, but he supposed either could’ve been the case.

The couple ducked out of their tent and Áine’s eyes went straight for the campfire, smiling when she saw their friends gathering around to eat yet another hearty meal Gale had somehow scraped together from their supply bags. She was about to apologize for their tardiness when she heard Astarion ask over her shoulder, “Who is that?”

Áine faltered and looked up at him, following his gaze toward where Withers was set up. Her stomach dropped, but she also wasn’t sure why she was surprised. She’d reawakened the dormant powers of her broken oath, why wouldn’t he show up again?

Standing adjacent to Withers was an ornate phantasm of a knight, fully ensconced in spotless bronze armor cloaked in blackened patina. Fierce, fiery eyes of vibrant orange glowed through the slits in the helmet, plumes of necrotic energy flaking from the orange aura to lick at his plating as he leaned against his enormous greatsword. His angry eyes were already resting on Áine by the time she registered his presence.

Astarion expected her to gawk at least, as he was. Or be perturbed by the intruder in their camp space, even if Withers for whatever reason didn’t seem to be. What he didn’t expect was what she actually said. 

“An old friend, I suppose,” Áine said, sounding more exasperated than appropriately horrified. It reminded him of how she’d reacted to Withers showing up in their camp as well, excluding when he’d intentionally or unintentionally jumpscared her of course. “I’ll be back in a moment or two.”

Her tone told him well enough that she wanted to speak to him alone, but he felt the urge to insist he accompany her as that innate protectiveness swelled in his chest. Ah how the tables have turned from the original “plan,” he mused, glancing down at her as she walked toward the knight. She was half the strange apparition’s size and yet strode with all the confidence of someone who towered three feet above him. Not for the first time, Astarion found his nerves easing a little at the sight and thinking, That’s my girl.

Áine drew in a deep breath as she crossed the thatch in the myconids’ circle, offering the knight a half-smile as she stopped in front of him. “Hello again,” she greeted him almost sheepishly.

“I have been waiting for you,” the knight informed her, the familiar voice stirring memories that brought her both pain and comfort. Gravelly and thickly accented, but shockingly kind. In more than a few ways, the strange soul who’d saved her in that first year of freedom. Until he’d realized she wanted nothing to do with the power her broken oath granted her and needed to make his way elsewhere to souls who needed his guidance more. At least, that’s what she’d assumed when one day she’d found him gone. “I felt your call rise again. Your broken chains echoed as they shuddered.”

She nodded slowly, still hesitant to accept this part of herself. It felt like a trap, retaining any remnant of her past and the creed that bound it. Even the shattered pieces. “I have people to protect now. I did it for them,” she said softly.

“A noble cause,” he acknowledged. “Just like the first time. I trust you still remember why you abandoned your oath?”

“Every moment of every hour,” Áine said, her throat tightening as her mind shoved the memories back down where she always held them fast. “I… I’ll never forget.”

“Good,” the knight decreed. “To know the reason for your fall, to remember it, is to know the shape of things to come. Your undoing should remain a source of comfort. For all oathbroken who have realized they are far better to choose their own path…but especially for you, Áine Ts’sambra.”

“Forgo my bloodname,” she ordered on a shaken breath. “My kin lie with my oath.”

“Your kin are alive and continue to spread their ill at Moonrise Towers under order of their master,” the knight said. “But you already suspected that.”

Áine’s blood ran cold. She had, but it was something different to hear it. She felt bile burn her throat as she asked with a forced even tone, “And my father?”

“Aye,” the knight confirmed, inclining his incorporeal armored head. “No less would be expected.”

She gave a flippant shrug of one shoulder. “I dunno. Rather hoped he might’ve died, I suppose.”

“Are you sure?” he challenged her.

“Are you suggesting I miss him?” she hissed in an effort to keep her voice low. “That I would ever forgive him?”

“No such thing,” the knight said. “But even now, the shadows gather around you. They have been with you since you ran. They sense the cracks in your armor and they yearn to be used. To be inflicted. Your power reawakens reborn. It is your path to pave, lass.”

Áine pursed her lips and glanced toward her feet. She knew what he implied. And he wasn’t wrong. While her fractured heart and broken mind reeled in terror at returning to those sickly lands knowing that the ones she’d fled still lived, some part of her looked upon this and saw opportunity. Closure. She’d always sworn to kill him, any of them, if they came after her, and some dark part of her welcomed that possibility as it drew ever closer.

“Will you be with us again now?” she asked, turning her gaze back up to his flame-made eyes. “Or is this just my ‘welcome back’ party?”

“You were not ready when first we met,” the knight said, his tone almost gentle. “You accepted this power out of fear of your family, out of fear of your weakness. You now know your way, but we reunite so I may show you how you might reach it if you have need of my teachings.”

Áine nodded. “Well, you are welcome in our camp, if you care for my permission,” she said, drawing a breath. “And I feel as if I owe you an apology. Not for resisting my power, but for how I treated you for most of our time together. I wasn’t myself.”

The knight actually chuckled. “You were young. Tortured. And too kind for your own good. Still seem to be.”

Áine smirked, a guilty press to her lips. “I suppose that’s something I’ll never shake.”

“See that you don’t,” the knight advised. “It is a rare thing and you possess the strength to protect that kindness rather than be taken advantage of for it.”

“Thanks for the pep talk,” Áine said, adjusting her ponytail and tracing her fingertips over the wet strands Astarion had cleansed the blood from just earlier. She glanced at Withers. “Hope you don’t mind a roommate.”

“Thou art as ever far too keen to seem amusing,” Withers informed her.

“Did you just say I’m not funny?” Áine balked. “You know what, nevermind. I’m done with both of you for a while.” When she turned to walk to the fire, the two strange figures exchanged a glance behind her back.

Áine joined Astarion’s side and served herself a bowl of porridge from the pot hanging over the fire, plunking a dab of honey into it from a jar nearby. She was surprised there was any left given how fond Halsin was of the stuff. As she stirred the honey into her breakfast, she cast another glance back at the stalwart knight. It was so strange to see him again, but also strangely reassuring. As frightening as it was for aspects of her past to be coming full circle, it felt overdue. She only hoped she proved herself in the end.

“Áine, did you hear me?”

“Hm? What?” she piped up, following the source of the voice back to Gale. “Sorry.”

“No need!” he hastened to say. “I was just curious about our, uh, new guest.”

“Do you know them? Or it?” Wyll pressed warily.

Áine deliberated for a moment before she shrugged and went back to eating her food, relaxing when she felt Astarion’s hand trace up her back. He was starting to get a little too attuned to when she was stressed. Or perhaps that was okay. Perhaps that was something she needed like he needed certain things from her. 

“Just another member of the ‘Undead Peepaw Corner’,” she said, speaking a little more loudly so she could be sure Withers would hear her. “He’s fine.”

The group shared glances, save for Karlach who was fully focused on shoveling her breakfast into her mouth. Lae’zel also seemed generally unbothered, her trust in Áine enough for her to not push further.

“There has to be more to it than that,” Wyll asserted, earning surprised glances from Shadowheart and Gale for the suspicion in his tone. 

Áine glanced at Wyll and set her spoon in her bowl to scratch the owlbear cub’s head when it ambled over to her side. “I mean, you’re welcome to go ask him yourself.”

Wyll glanced toward Withers and the knight before pulling a face and thinking better of striking up that particular conversation.

Next chapter: Chapter 18, "Bard Dance"

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

CKB (crookedkryptonitebeliever) DATING SIM

[ACTUALLY THIS SERVES MORE LIKE CHARACTER DESCRIPTIONS FOR MY OCS]

Tw: yandere, infantilization, , incest, noncon, sexual content, foot injury

So you got transmigrated into an otome game. Cool.

To your surprise, you're not the villain or villainess! But instead, the main character. That should be fun and easy, right? Main characters always get their happy endings with hot anime boys.

Right?

I'll let you be the judge of that.

This game is created by crookedkryptonitebeliever on Tumblr, if it helps.

The anime boys are not boys. Nor girls. Nor non binary, nor anime but a scarier firth thing. Da Creator's OCs.

We got,

2718 the aloof, magical Venusian cowboy who doesn't speak English, easiest way to get to his heart is through his stomach

Unnamed androgynous entity carrying an Abacus, the freak in the sheets and freak in the Venusian streets who also doesn't speak English, loves french kissing a little too much

Your unnamed big brother who would rather take care of you than do anything else. No, he doesn't give a shit that you're 18, 25, 52 or 75 or a millennia old, you are still baby to him. Now what would you like for dinner? Big brother will cook you up something yummy

Your unnamed best friend turned fiance then husband who seems the sanest of the bunch. I would personally go for this guy because he pays for all your bills and supports you, and gives you enough freedom and cooks good and he would-

Leveret, brunch lover and destroyer of bottomless mimosas, the least developed of the bunch, he's fuckin weird but rich though. Lovely elegant fingers, elegant posture and gait, nothing like a bunny despite popular belief. More like a snake

An unnamed hitman who only has the hots for you and eats your pussy like groceries, camps under your bed to spawn kill that kitty

Da Translator, she's not even a love interest nor does she have any interest in love. Da Creator just shoehorned her in to make communication between 2718 and Abacus easier. Faulty nanobots in her bloodstream and corrupt intergalactic governments strike again. She just wants to go home.

And many more that have yet to crawl out of the deepest crevices of my drafts and make their grandiose (or creepy) appearance.

In this series, or oneshot, or waffle, or whole nothing burger, everyone is slightly altered from canon to fit with the setting.

Let's begin.

You were just dropped here. Literally. From the fucking sky and you broke your fucking foot as a result.

You, a modern day salary person, or student, or surgeon, or sturgeon, or whatever with almost tangible question marks around your head, is clutching your pained foot. The last thing you remembered was sneakily sleeping on your job after giving up on your task at hand. You were rudely awakened by the ticklish feeling of your organs floating inside you, a rushing gust of wind against your face and ultimately a bone fracture.

Howling and sobbing from the excruciating pain, you caught the attention of more than enough citizens in the town square you were dropped in. Of course, a person manifesting from thin air and falling from the sky already had their interests piqued.

This sucks, you thought. Usually transmigrants wake up in bed, as someone else-in someone else's body, mild to severe confusion is to be expected. But generally, initially unharmed. You didn't expect to be flung down from the fucking sky with no plot armor.

Da creator argues that you do have some plot armor, you're still alive, aren't you? You would become a flattened reader patty by falling at that height if this was in real life.

Back to the plot at hand. You're suffering with a broken foot, everyone around you dress Amish, no tech in sight- still using oil lanterns to light up the place. They seem human enough for you to realize that they're frowning, gaping, gasping, murmuring and knitting their eyebrows in concern.

The more you look away from your horrifyingly twisted foot, the more you notice that... there is modern technology around! There are people wearing casual hawaiian shirts, baseball caps and a DSLR camera hung around their neck. Must be tourists from the city.

Now there are 7 ways this can go. Each path you choose will have... probably another 3 more ways. Then each will branch off again to another three more ways and so on. Da creator is not doing this game on Tumblr cause it will be a nightmare to masterlist and keep track.

I was planning to be like Degrees of Lewdity inspired, text based and using twine to do it but I know squat shit about coding. So this may probably be an empty promise, but I want to make like a visual novel out of it.

Maybe not... visual. I don't know how those talented VN artists do it, but I simply CANNOT draw all of that.

I'll probably start off strong and fall off the face of Earth doing this, my motivation is never consistent. So don't expect much, I'm just throwing this out here in case maybe in a couple months I decided to reread my crap and see this and go "hey why not" and pick it back up.

Then disappear for a couple weeks, abandon the project, reread my stuff, rinse and repeat. Keep in mind I haven't have a slightest idea how to code or any of its' jargons.

Anyways, you get to choose how to meet one of the 7 OCs.

You could either:

Have 2718 swoop in and save you from some bad guys, true to the first installment of Language Barrier. But he is not going to treat you like a mature, self critical adult, if that's what you were expecting. You're injured and he is not letting you do anything for yourself. But you find it strange that your pain is gone whenever he's touching you. You can see that he's upset over your injury, but he does whatever he can to soothe you. He's awfully quiet, don't you think?

Abacus guy comes in and act like a caretaker of yours, since you can't understand what most of them are saying due to your limited... unevolved biological hardware. And poor you, howling in pain with your ankle shattered like that, of course you're not going to notice that some of the tourists are speaking in English. Abacus guy is going to gently pick you up, coo at you and turn you into putty in their arms. They pressed their lips against the crook of your neck, suckling on a very sensitive spot. It feels good...

Oh no! His baby! Your big brother will sob, taking you into his strong arms, burying his face in your hair, muttering soft, sweet nothings to soothe you. Quickly but carefully, he zipped through the curious crowd and loaded you in his car, making sure you're comfortable with your favorite plushies and blankies. Are you thirsty? Big brother has some refreshing drinks he keep in his cooler. Hungry? There are packets of healthy snacks he neatly arranged in his car organizer. Big brother will open the packets for you if you ask, but please... please eat your painkillers first. It's going to be a long ride to the hospital and you're going to suffer. And that breaks his heart.

You noticed a shadow looming over you. You looked up to see the worried face of your beloved best friend, tears from his puffy eyes streaking down his sunken cheeks. There were dark bags under his eyes from the stress. Presumably from work and the worrying he endured while you're away. He scooped you up carefully and hastily placed you down on the stretcher prepared by the best medical team in the... galaxy? They placed a complicated looking helmet over your head before pressing a button on a metallic device. You heard muffled glass shatters after that. Each of the members held on tight to the stretcher, your best friend held onto you, hugging you tightly as he whimpers, rubbing your arm up and down. You don't know what happened, but you can't describe what you're seeing through the glass. It's like watching the world's most indescribable movie, it's not giving you any feelings of pain or fear or nausea.

Leveret is too green and unripe now, I can't exactly write for him until I write a part 2, will get back to this later

Same goes for our pussy devourer hitman, too incomplete, will get back to this later as well

You were momentarily distracted from your pain when you heard a scream looming in the distance... From above. It's getting louder and louder until you hear a devastating thud and crunch against the ground, silvery specks flew past your eyes. Accompanied by multiple gasps. Sobbing, groaning and cussing soon followed. You craned your neck to see a woman, dressed in office attire, howling loudly in pain. Looks like she shattered both legs and an arm. Strange metallic liquid ooze out of her wounds. The two of you remained on the ground, injured and exhausted while everyone else just stared. All the while, feeling that something big and bad is about to come.

When all of them have their names already, I'll change the fic accordingly. But for now, this is all I can provide. Lackluster in everything <3

Actually no, no choosing. The game chooses for you and it's all up to chance. Probably have an introduction where you get up on your own and girlboss your way out. But eventually have one of my OCs catch you.

Yeah I don't know where I'm going with this.

[howyouducan]

I don't know why but for Dragon Age 2 and Dragon Age Inquisition, even though I love my OCs dearly I know those games would be the same games with or without them. Not Origins tho. Playing any origin other than dwarf noble feels like diving into a twisted bizarro universe, and whenever I'm reminded that other people have a different PC I get dizzy. No, that's not it. It's not that there's a different PC, it's that my PC doesn't exist at all in any other canon. Like what do you mean Audrun Aeducan isn't here, she's iconic! She's the face of Origins like Varric is the face of DA2! She's the descendant of Paragon Aeducan the darkspawn destroyer, she's the lover of the king's runaway bastard, she slew the archdemon! What's this place for without her, she should at least be dead but to not exist! It breaks my mind and confuses me

[raine-blxssxm]

ATTENTION AMELIA + KENNELIA FANS!!!

I know there isn’t many of us at the moment (hopefully that’ll change as time passes by), but in honor of Amelia’s birthday (August 8th), I’ve decided to start an event as a 1 week countdown to her special day! I took inspiration from the creator of @tweekweek2023 (sorry for the tag! I also want to thank you for inspiring me to do this <3)

The event starts August 1st with the following prompts that you can either draw or write about! (some prompts heavily inspired by Tweek Week + You can choose either prompt or do both):

Day 1:

-Amelia dressed as your favorite character from your favorite musical

-Your interpretation of Amelia (like how u see her based on your headcanons and stuff)

Day 2:

-Favorite Amelia Variation (FBW, SOT, PD, PC, etc. + note about PD: Amelia’s design references for the Cowboy, Sci-fi, and Mystical units will be posted when I can finish perfecting their designs 💔)

-Amelia performing

Day 3:

-Genderbent! Kennelia

-Amelia hanging out with your favorite oc or canon character

Day 4:

-Free day (basically do whatever you want)

Day 5:

-Music Cover Amelia (draw Amelia in the album cover of a song that you think fits her)

- First date w Kenny

Day 6:

- Alt/subculture fashion Amelia

- Crossover Amelia (Amelia interacting with someone outside of South park)

Day 7:

- Amelia’s surprise party

- Amelia’s birthday cake

Again, Amelia’s references for adventure, mystical, and sci fi units in Phone Destroyer will be posted as soon as I finish perfecting their designs! In the meantime, I’ve attached a character sheet with Amelia’s main outfits and color palettes + a full body drawing of her Post Covid design to this post to be used as reference!

REBLOGS HEAVILY ENCOURAGED PLEASE PROMOTE THIS HOWEVER YOU CAN ❤️

Send me an ask if you have any questions about the event ^^

[darksideofparis]

An expanded Pantheon of Discord for your consideration! Some taken from canon beings The Doctor has fought, some from Sarah Jane, two are OCs

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

The Toymaker: The God of Games- We all now know this guy, a crazy giggling madman obsessed with The Rules of Play

Hecuba: The Goddess of Fate- The canonical sister of The Toymaker. I made her The Goddess of Fate since in her one canon appearance she's called The Queen of Time.

Trickster: The God of Traps- Again, a well known one, the archenemy of Sarah Jane, an insane individual who loves chaos

Maestro: The God of Music- The child of The Toymaker who wishes to keep all music for themselves, the parent of Harbinger

Reprobate: The God of Spite- An unknown being, I haven't found anyone who would work as Reprobate except maybe Rassilon?

The Mara: The God of Beasts- A classic Who villain and enemy of The Fifth Doctor

Lucifer: The God of Despair- This is The Beast from The Satan Pit. He's also voiced by Gabriel Woolf, the voice of Sutekh and with Carla mentioning The Beast it felt right to include him. Having him be The God of Despair is from The Beast being called The Prince of Despair by the possessed Ood

Abaddon: The God of Hunger- This is The Beast's child from Torchwood that feeds on life energy and was defeated by Jack's immortality. Feasting on immortality itself seems good for a hunger god

Fenric: The God of Pestilence- Taking a Seventh Doctor enemy described as "an evil from before the universe" and making them one of The Pantheon. Given how Fenric was described, a pestilence deity seemed right

Jester: The God of Fear- The clown creature from Sarah Jane Adventures that feeds on fear and who Mr Smith said came from "the far edges of The Universe". Similar to Abaddon, a being that feeds on fear seems like they'd be a fear deity

Krampus: The God of Trickery- This is actually a canonical member of The Pantheon from a comic who tricks a citizen of Leadworth who Amy and Rory later have to save. He works by tricking people into accepting his gifts to manifest in the physical world

Harbinger: The God of Chance- Yes I'm making Harbinger a god, since the first one we met is the child of Maestro. Now Harbinger is a shapeshifter deity so both Henry and Harriet are the same deity. Their domain is for opening up chances for their fellow deities to emerge

Incensor: The Goddess of Disaster- A canonical member of The Pantheon who we haven't seen yet and I couldn't find an enemy who worked as a Disaster goddess though I wanted to propose the idea that she was the inspiration of Gaia in Greek mythology

Light: The God of Endings- A Seventh Doctor enemy who was said to be "an evil older than time itself" and worshiped as a god. Depicted as being someone obsessed with cataloguing the universe and infuriated whenever anything changes. Seems like he'd make a good God of Endings

Akhaten: The God of Plagues- Taken from the 11th Doctor story The Rings of Akhaten, described by his worshippers as A God but by 11 as a parasitic plague on his people, I think he could work as a trapped and bound God of The Pantheon

Midnight: The God of Shadow- Yes I am making The Creature from Midnight a lesser deity of The Pantheon! What else but an immortal being could survive that sunlight? Maybe it was imprisoned eons ago and all it can do now is hunger and strike from it's domain of shadow, including the shadows of the mind

Kronos: The God of Time- A Third Doctor enemy that claimed to have "known The Doctor of Old" and was "beyond good and evil", a being literally called a God and a destroyer. I think he'd fit well in The Pantheon and leads into Ash's idea of The Doctor being The God of Life. Speaking of which

The Doctor: The God of Life- A mind wiped and banished child god who was found and taken in by The Time Lords. This god was immortal and could bring others back to life (like the butterfly from Space Babies). Trapped by The Trickster and unbound from Time, The Doctor now faces his own family as The Lonely God

Void: The God of Darkness (OC)- I made this sort of a mashup of both The Void, the space between dimensions containing "no light" and Rose in "Turn Left" saying that "The Darkness is coming" almost like The Darkness was a physical being. Void separated a member of his family from the woman he loved out of spite

Sutekh: The God of Death- The supposed "mother and father and other of all" and "the god of gods" himself, master and bringer of ultimate death, the antithesis to The Doctor, God of Life. A being who simply wishes to bring "blessed death to all life"

Precursor: The God of The Unknown and Secrets (OC)- Confession time! I created this God for the sole reason of being able to hide the truth from people by tucking it away "into nothingness and The Unknown". Secrets such as the true origin of Ruby Sunday, the many past lives of The Doctor, the whereabouts of Susan Foreman, the truth of who The Doctor is and (linking in your OC Alex) who Alex's Time Lord ancestor is. They are the Secret Keeper of The Pantheon and allow their fellow gods true intentions to always remain a mystery

Would love to hear your opinions on this!- Loki

Very fascinating! I especially like the idea of a God of Secrets. Honestly, it would fit in very well with the show, and all the secrets and uncertainty surrounding the Doctor!

[neoninky]

Ok so I had a thought while working earlier that just led to ludicrousness lolol

And no, no one has sent me a request for Fellow Honest for the bingo game BUT

I have some thoughts on this fox man whose face I have seen all over this site (shout out to main fox waifu/destroyer @wysteriadelights and @nuitthegoddess cuz I harass you with just about every twst related thought I have 😂 but also cuz the oc x fellow art you did recently was gorgeous well done ANYWAY-) so I’m doing an indulgent self ask and answer lolol

here we go:

Alright. So.

His look? He’s got a fantastic character design. Yes I wanna steal his coat lol. I love that there is more beastman characters being canonically introduced. I’m all for world building 👍✨

He is very, very silly. Very entertaining. Shady as HELL, but entertaining lol. I’m looking forward to the event coming to the English server and experiencing the absolute tomfoolery first hand lol. Also I want them Floyd, Lilia, and Ortho cards oh my laaaawd

I - unfortunately or not, take it as you will - did not get hit with the charisma tea that swept through the internet upon his arrival. He is good looking, I do appreciate the overall character aesthetic, but he ain’t my cup o’ tea, y’all sorry…now Divus 👀 GURL-ok moving on lol

Alright fuckin FREE SPACE:

If I, Inky, were to make an actual self-insert Yuusona of sorts - I would not make her a student, even like a fourth year, cuz I’m too old lol I am beyond school age years…which is why she would absolutely be the lowkey, resting bitch faced school librarian or some professor of some sort, granted I/she would be the most lax teacher ever until it’s fuckin go time 😂 then shit gets real

Which brings me to my next point/ridiculous shenanigan scenario:

Imagine if you will - I, teacher!inky, just up at the school, doing my thing, and I find out that a handful of my dumbass main character students got shanghai’d by some rando human-trafficking fox man and his kitty cat associate bro-cousin?

To be turned into actual, cursed puppet beings??

And SOLD TO PEOPLE ON SOME SHADY BLACK MARKET ISH??? Listen there’s Overblotting and then there is actual crime-

Lawd, I would go Mama Bear on Fellow’s cane twirlin’ ass so quick, he would magical girl himself into a fur shawl for me to wear like fucking hunting trophy lol and then I’d just adopt Gidel

And then somehow drag them dumb kids back to the school my god 😂

Also note to self, now I have to create LibrarianMom!Inkysona, constantly just being over all the nonsense happening at Night Raven College. I feel that on a spiritual level lolol.