#The secret side( Behemoth/Monster)

[dunmeshi-darlings]

this might be a really like niche thing if you are doing requests of course but what about a tiger beastman reader with marcille it can be sfw or nsfw either or its all good!

Nobody knew you were a beastkin at first, it was something you held in secret. After all, Beastmen are viewed in not the most pleasant of lights. When the party had seen your tiger tail they had assumed you were a beastkin like izutsumi, which you quickly said was the case. You weren't ready to tell them the truth yet, yes they treated izutsumi perfectly fine it was just...you were scared, beast man are viewed as either criminals that were punished or dangerous people that did this to themselves. you were planning on telling them just...just when you thought the time was right.

However that decision was made for you one day, The group had been travelling and had been ambushed by a particularly fierce monster. You all were fighting it as best you could but you watched it knock laios aside and charge Marcille. You knew you had to do something, you couldnt let her die...you couldnt let her get hurt. she had been so kind to you since you joined, always willing to help when you needed it. Talking to you about magic and how she could tell you had potential with magic she could feel it (she could sense the beastman magic but didnt realize it). You couldnt let anything happen to her.

You sprinted at the charging monster as you began to take your form, Bones shifting and popping into place, skin stretching and pulsing as it shifted, Your jaw extending as your teeth grew and pushed forward into fangs, nails extending into long sharp claws. Everyone's eyes were on the monster so nobody saw you at first, too focused on the monster that was about to attack marcille. However their attention was immediately drawn when a deep guttural roar rang out through the dungeon as a large figure slammed into the side of the monster which was only a mere few feet from marcille. The monster and this new being thrown to the other side of the dungeons room from the sheer force of this mystery attackers launch.

The fight may have only lasted a short moment, but that moment was a bloody and visceral one. Swinging claws and gnashing teeth, Blood, fur, scales, and viscera splattered in every direction around this violent brawl. Eventually the mysterious figure flipped the monster onto its back and sank its massive fangs into the monsters throat, it let out gurgling hisses as it tried to fight back, but the figure bit down harder and a muffled cracking was heard. The monster continued to fight even though the party could see it was slowing down its movements, however the figure gave on hard yank of its head and a loud snapping was heard and the monster fell limp in this beings jaws. It shook its head a few more times, smaller cracking noises resounded as it made sure its target was killed before it slowly let go of its throat and stood up, staring at the party who looked on in shock.

Standing before the rest of Laios party, Its muzzle dripping blood and scraps of flesh stood a massive humanoid tiger. Its Muscles rippling under its dense orange fur, twitching every few seconds, Like springs ready to launch this behemoth of claws and fur at its next target. But the being simply wiped the blood off its mouth as it began to speak. "i....im sorry...i wanted to tell you all...i promise i did..i just...i didnt know when it would be right." You spoke, slowly shifting back into your normal form as you prepared yourself for the worst. you expected them to berate you and be upset that you hid this from them and say they dont want you around. But it was izutsumi who spoke up first. "i knew you smelled like a cat." Catching you and everyone off guard as they couldnt help but chuckled.

Laios was perhaps the most excited of them all, He had stars in his eyes as he asked you question after question about your tiger form, asking how you got it and what its like. Chilchuck simply shrugged and said he didnt blame you for not talking about it, that it was a private matter and how he isnt the most forthcoming person either. Senshi scratched his chin, making comments about needing to adjust your portions of food since you have a much bulkier frame you need to keep fed hidden away. However it was marcilles reaction that had you the most curious, she had a blush on her face as she thanked you for saving her and she looked almost...nervous?

You tell her that its ok, that you couldnt just sit by and let her get hurt or worse. And that even if you got kicked out of the party, you had to make sure she was ok. This caused the elf to blush more, the tips of her pointy ears a crimson hue as they wiggled, her awkwardly giggling and saying thanks again. Of course she quickly shouted about your injuries, Sure your thick fur protected from alot of the attacks but some of them definitely got through and it was only now you were starting to feel the stings of various gouges and bite marks.

Marcille began tending to your wounds, using her magic to heal your wounds and make sure you were ok. Normally her healing magic, while fast, hurts almost as much as the wounds. But she was being particularly gentle this time, using the magic slowly and it felt almost like healing magic from the gnome school of magic. You asked her why she was doing it this way and another blush crossed her face, she smiled softly "well...i dont want to see you hurt either..so im taking my time with this and making sure it doesnt hurt to much...i just....ive been thinking about you lately, and especially after what you did earlier...risking yourself and exposing your identity like that to protect me...you mean alot to me." She says taking one of her hands and placing it softly onto your cheek, using her magic to heal a cut that had crossed your cheek all the way back to your ear. You felt the wound heal quickly as it was a shallow cut...but she didnt move her hand, it sat there for awhile. It felt like she didnt want to move her hand away, like she was treasuring this moment. And so you took a breath and put your hand over hers, tilting your head into her hand. Commenting how she means alot to you as well. The two of you staring lovingly into each others eyes for a moment before chilchucks voice quickly makes you two separate.

As night fell you began to settle in, making your cot as you got ready for sleep. However you stopped when marcille walked up with her pillow. "hey, do you mind if i sleep with you tonight?" she asked softly, a grin across her face as you grinned back and motioned for her to nestle in as she did so. You wrapped your arms around the elf woman and pulled her into a soft hug, she hummed softly and happily in your arms as you two lay together. "you know how chilchuck feels about in party relationships." you say jokingly causing the elf woman to roll her eyes. "oh that grump can deal with it, besides. Ill just say im sleeping here to make sure your wounds have healed properly thats all." She says with a wink, the two of you smiling as you nestled in for the night. Perhaps you could get used to this whole, being open and honest thing.

[nomsfaultau]

Premise of SBI SCP AU

This is an au that has consumed me. This blog will just be a terrible mess of whatever I’m stuck on for the week, likely with little explanation and heavy spoilers. Anyway, the general vibe + anomalous properties are below cut:

Philza: The Zilant. Is the immortal concept of fire and fury, which pretends to be a dragon, which pretends to be a human. Maintains his personhood by attaching himself to mortals he calls his ‘Collected’. Currently: Tommy, Wilbur, The Blade, and Tubbo. Additionally, Philza is very intent on keeping any promise he makes and was kept in the Foundation exclusively because they’d captured his Collected and made a deal. Gives great dad advice, except when the advice is ‘let me murder them for you <3’

Tommy: The Instigator. Has a blood red liquid on his hands that grows when he’s scared. When people touch it, they become aggressive to anyone but Tommy. At low TI-Red levels this leads to things like bickering, but it escalates to physical violence and brutality. When TI-Red levels consume him and he thinks he’s going to die, he summons The Blade. Lived as a normal human and met Wil, Phil, and The Blade after a summoning at 15; visited the homeless guys occasionally till the Foundation captured at 16. Abandonment issues, highly touch starved, used as a Thaumiel. Collected Tubbo.

The Blade: The Blood God. Is a massive boar behemoth with voices in his head. When attacked (or if there’s an orphan), becomes The Blood God, who will bend the universe to ensure he wins. The Blade only comes back when the challenge has been completed. Grew up as a monster in the woods, but pulled himself up out of the voices, figured out what was him and what was The Blood God, and established his own personhood. Somehow has a college degree, met Phil and Wil during a gap year. Loves gardening and murdering people for Tommy. Also managed to come out of the Foundation the least traumatized, iconic. 

Wilbur: Soot. [tags are noms Wilbur or scp Wilbur if you want to block] His legs magically rearrange so he is the tallest humanoid in the room. Oh also the void in the side of his face that eldritch abominations claw their way out of. Was basically a feral starving child till ~14 when Philza forcefully adopted him. A chronic insomniac with a heart of gold and a tongue of silver, held together despite the inherent contradictions between being a supreme survivalist and a drama hoe. Memory issues because he represses basically everything. 

Tubbo: The Pollinator. Is a honeycomb skin suit for approximately 400,000 bees. Uses they/them we/us pronouns, because they are a Hive mind/system containing at least three humans: a Little, a Foundation employee, and a lawyer/farmer. Tubbo grew up mostly normal, albeit in secret. The most recently captured by the Foundation, and a staunch pacifist. This causes them to be at odds with Philza, who did a few murderous rampages too many, and The Blade, for the reason above and also because he destroyed their legs. But they stick around because they’re attached to Tommy. 

Basic vibes are found family, hurt/comfort, questions of morality, and trauma at the hands of the Foundation and each other. Things get messy, but it’s all bound together with love at the end of the day.

[terra-tortoise]

flight rising tumblr do you have any general lore for wind clans or nature clans youre proud of? theyre the 2 elements ive had the most trouble pinning down a vibe for. posting what i have (and some brief bit of my lore for the other elements to put them into perspective) below the cut, but id love to hear what you all have in terms of lore for them

Nature: genuinely not much. 2 pearl cerdae that help guard the behemoth. the mother of snakes, a dragon who volunteered to enter the pox consulate after the armistace was broken to atttempt to seal it up and prevent it from spreading who was infected (not outright killed by luck of being born to plague) and changed into a strange beast with 3 snake heads, keeping mutated creatures in and healthy dragons out. aiming for a more brutal vibe i think?

Wind: again. basically nothing. i keep just making farmers--lotta sheep come from the windswept plateu. a few bards too but nothing Interesting, no anchoring point of conflict or creativity.

Arcane: nothing -_- magic experimentation i guess? i had some dragons who were once turned to stone as a punishment for suspicion of spreading arcane secrets, but my other dragons are very mundane which is not as fun to me. i also have a weird monster from space? i could go space ways...

Earth: focus primarily on archeologists and grave robbers, as well as long-dead creatures brought to life by a shifting in ley lines

Fire: definitely leaning into the magmablood rebuke, forgemasters and rebels, bigotry and classism, pollution and unionizing

Water: ive made a breakthrough leaning into the darker sides of their lore (prisoners and the like) but leaning into sea witches and pirate crews. the core story is an undead former pirate who died in a storm and her wife who searches for her, most of my water dragons are either related to the search or former crew members

Lightning: scrappers and engineers, industrialization and innovation. trying to survive in a climate that hates you.

Ice: outward expansion of gaoler outposts and increasing shade incursions. guides across the ice field.

Light: so much. investigation into ruins of past civilization, secrets and lies, shade bubbling up beneath.

Shadow: behemoth ghostly warriors in the brambles, dragons that mislead for fun, a faction of fanatics determined to blot out the sun.

Plague: a wasteland empty, capitalized on by strange magic-users and crime rings. the illegal gladiatorial pits originated here (<-borrowed lore). the undercroft is a honeycombed metropolis stretching deep underground, and within it a dragon creates flesh constructs, seeking revenge on those who scorned her.

[your-good-pal-chevy]

Swordtember : 1 : Shattered

Blade hammered against blade, sparks shooting off in all directions as the two swords clashed. Amid the clamor, the two fighters danced in a deadly spiral, each moving and twisting with the rhythm of their duel.

The two of them were far from evenly matched.

On one side stood a youth, ill-equipped and little trained, hardened by the turmoil of a life given over to war. Where others had skill, this one had experience. For as long as their memory could recount, they had been immersed in violence and bloodshed, and it had made of them a wicked and ugly thing. But, where others had fallen, this one stood.

Many brave champions had been felled by the youth's opponent. Barbarian heroes and gallant knights alike had fallen before this Sword Devil. A behemoth, hardly recognizable as a man beneath his fearsome armor, more akin to a tower of pitch black steel. Despoiler, warrior, killer. To call him a man, though he was of flesh and blood, seemed ill fitting. He was a monster, more so than any beast of tooth and claw.

But someone had to fight this monster, someone had to fell this giant. And so the youth stood, giving ground as needed, desperate to keep metal between their flesh and certain death.

No, the youth thought, For once, I do not fight only for myself. If I cannot defeat this fiend here, countless others will perish in his wake. I must fight.

Again and again, their swords clashed. The youth bore only a simple blade, forged by a simple smith, bereft of any enchantment or decoration. The monster carried a sword of the same black steel as his armor, pitted and chipped from truly countless battles.

Just as the two warriors were far from an even match, so too were their arms. The fiend hammered and hammered, using his great blade as a blunt instrument, until finally the youth's sword shattered under his assault. That great black blade tore through it, sending one half flying in either direction just as it tore a cleft in the youth's breastplate.

The youth cried out, only barely able to throw their body back far enough to avoid being rent in twain. Falling to their knees, blood gushed from the gash across their chest. The youth gasped, clutching feebly for the hilt of their ruined sword.

"Relent," came the brassy voice of the beast, deep within his horned helmet. "Surrender yourself to the comfort of death. You need not face this pain much longer."

The youth barked out a harsh laugh. "Comfort! No, devil." They took up their sword once more, pointing the jagged remains at the monster before them. "If I fall here, you will lay waste to these lands, and you ask me to give myself to the night? I think not."

The youth took up a ready stance, wielding the broken sword like a dagger. "I choose pain. I choose struggle. I choose death, to be sure, but only if it be on my feet."

The demon stood there, merely watching the youth for a time. Then, its voice intoned once more. "Very well. Let none claim I did not offer you the mercy of a swift end. And let none claim that you did not fight until your last."

Both fighters held for a moment, the world itself seeming to hold its breath, and then they charged as one. The demon was too strong, too powerful, and the youth knew they could not hope to best him with their blade in such ruin.

And so the youth did what they did best. They used their experience, their low cunning, their grit and determination.

As they had scrabbled in the dirt for the hilt of their blade, the youth had clutched a handful of mud in secret. They threw it in the Sword Devil's face as the two charged, the momentary distraction providing an opening as the fiend reeled from the filth now obscuring their vision.

The monster's blade swung in a wide arc, blind and hoping to taste flesh, but it met only the air. The youth had crouched low under the blade, letting it pass harmlessly over their head.

With a roar of defiance, the youth leapt forward, lunging for the devil's ankles. Finding a joint in the black steel that encased the monster, they plunged their shattered sword into that nook, something it would not have been able to do were it still whole.

Steel met flesh, and the devil howled in pain. That great black blade was swung again, missing the youth by a hair, but then one of the giant's hands lashed out and found purchase.

The devil fell to one knee as his leg could no longer hold him, but at the same time he crushed the youth in his huge grip and lifted them off the ground by their neck.

"Pain indeed," the beast growled, crushing the youth's throat, "I offered you a swift death! Now, you shall die slow-"

The youth, however, had other ideas. Even as that great black gauntlet was strangling the life from their body, their hands were free.

And a rapscallion such as them never went anywhere without a knife close at hand.

The demon, unable to see from the mud still caking the visor of its helmet, was utterly unaware that death had come for him. A small knife jutted from his helmet, having found purchase deep in his eye.

The Sword Devil fell, his grip still tight around the youth's throat, but the youth rose. They spat on the beast's now still armor, rubbing their throat as they struggled to catch their breath.

"My kind is no stranger to pain," the youth barked, "While yours, ever so secure in your strength, are always so surprised when it comes to visit. May you burn in whatever hell will take you."

[jabbers-wild-world]

@powerfulplantwitch​ | Meeting the Gilded Knight(s)

Time: 2300 hours (11pm), two hours past curfew

Location: The town of Doomwood, at the southeastern shores of the Mors Isles, off the coast of Alvaria

He was quick, light on his feet as he ducked around corners and vaulted over barrels left strewn about the alleyways. This wasn’t good! Really not good! He had to lead this monster out of town or else it was going to do some very serious damage, perhaps even kill someone. Not that he wanted to die by its claws either, but better him than a civilian. Right?

“Alright, big guy, let’s get you out of town where you won’t hurt anybody.” The beast rounded the corner now too, a massive elk three times the standard size, with large feathery wings and very sharp teeth. It tossed its head and shook its antlers at him, and he gave a growl back at it, his own fangs bared a moment.

“Yes, yes. You’re very impressive, now come on!” The massive beast bowed its head, digging a hoof against the cobblestone, before it charged him straight on. He didn’t back down either, lowering his own horns as he charged right back. At the last second though, he dropped. He slid under the large peryton buck, coming out the other side and taking off at a run, leading it back toward the Doomwood gates. Well, that actually went pretty well if he were honest, but- A glance back, and he took a left turn, only to have to skid to a halt to avoid colliding with someone else who was apparently roaming the streets. Oh, no. No, no, no! She wasn’t supposed to be out here! It was two hours past curfew! All the civilians were supposed to be in bed!

“What are you doing out here? Don’t you know it’s past curfew!” Thank the Behemoth for his mask. It graciously hid his moment of panic, allowed him to drop into a more authoritative tone, without that brief look of fear being seen. “Go home. It isn’t safe to be out this late.”

“Archer..! What’s taking you so long?!” An identical figure lingered upon the hilltop just outside the gates of Doomwood. “Come on..! You should have had the peryton through the gates by now..!” It was stressful to be stuck waiting like this. He’d volunteered to lure the beast instead, but they had drawn straws... and his brother got bait duty.. While he was stuck here on the hill, waiting with the net to wrangle it, and sedate it... Yes, sedate it. The Gilded Knight wasn’t a killer unless he absolutely had to be. Neither of them were.

If they could sedate the peryton with enough sleep powder, they could transport it far enough out that it shouldn’t cause any more trouble in town. But.. that all depended on the plan actually working. As much as he would have liked to join up with his brother in town and help out with herding the peryton out of Doomwood, he had to stay here. For two reasons. One, the plan depended on him being here with the net and the sleep powder to knock the beast out, for if he wasn’t here, then it was free to continue its rampage and turn right back around for town. Two.. Well, no one was supposed to know there were two Gilded Knights.

Yeah, there were two of them, but it was one of the Emperor’s best kept secrets. He’d reminded them time and time again that it was imperative that they act as one person in the eyes of the public. Only one could be seen in the same space at a time. It gave the illusion that they were near invincible, and capable of handling multiple issues or threats moments apart. An illusion that the Gilded Knight was endlessly powerful, always able to be anywhere in a blink to protect the citizens of the Mors Isles. Emperor Andras had drilled it into them that if the public knew there were two of them, they would lose respect for the Gilded Knight, lose faith in his ability to protect them, and.. realize that he wasn’t all that powerful at all. And if that happened, people may try to take advantage of them.

People are more cruel than they seem, he’d told them. If they were to see weakness in either of the twins, then they would turn on them and violently so. It was for their protection that the public remained of the mind that there was only one Gilded Knight, lest the boys be violently ripped apart by wicked people. Torn limb from limb and slaughtered, just because the people had realized their weakness...

So he had to stay here while his brother lured the peryton to the hill. It wasn’t safe otherwise.. He’d put them both in danger, and.. neither of them wanted that.. Neither wanted to lose his brother..

[my-dumb-obsessions]

Ten Random Lines Tag

Thank you for the tag, @sillyliterature!

Rules: Pick any ten of your fics, scroll to the midpoint, pick a line (or three) and share it. Then tag ten people.

I don't actually have 10 fics yet, but here's what I've got. And I also don't have 10 friends but tagging @ephemeronidwrites, @anderstrevelyan, @psalacanthea, @glowing-blue-feathermage, @notebooks-and-laptops, and @fthechantry if you feel like going through your back catalogs 😁. Also feel free to ignore.

All the Things I Deserve (E, F!Hawke/Anders) - Act 2 romance

The last brought a smile to his face and his dark amber eyes were full of both sincere affection and heady desire as he whispered, “Astrid…” He so rarely used her first name it sounded special, like a shared secret. And she loved the sound of it rising from his lips like a prayer.

By Your Side (M, F!Hawke/Anders) - unpublished, Act 1-2

Gamlen snickered, “And your lowlife friends are any better? Or your dear father?” Hawke gaped at the low blow, and her uncle visibly worked to hold back his temper, “I had nothing to do with this. Maker’s fucking breath, Hawke! You’re a stubborn bitch, but we’re still family. And Bethany was the best of you lot.”

Fly Away (T, Anders & Velanna) - post-Awakening Vigil's Keep

“Meaning?” Velanna shrugged. She’d never heard of it but assumed it was something obvious to humans.

“Oh, right!” He smacked his forehead as if he’d missed something obvious before folding his arms and leaning against the window frame by her feet, “It’s a Chantry holiday…Day of the Dead, remembering the fallen and all that…”

“Ah,” she nodded, “and the Wardens have a lot of dead to remember, I imagine.”

I've Got You (E, F!Hawke/Anders) - Deep Roads Expedition

“Bethany is twenty years old, Mother. She can make her own decisions.” Hawke tossed the comment back in passing as she followed her mabari to the door. “I’m taking Beau  out. I hope you can have this settled by the time we get back.”

Light the Way (T, F!Hawke/Anders) - unpublished, Act 1

“It was amazing, by the way.” Hawke declared when Anders returned with tea. He looked confused by that, but they took their mugs with thanks and she clarified, “The magic you did, with the blue fire and the lights and, um…” she made an expansive gesture with her free hand, “exploding Templars.” He snorted at that and tried to hide his smile, taking a seat on a crate next to her.

“That was a spirit you called, wasn’t it?” Bethany interjected, “You're a medium?”

One Door Closes (T, F!Hawke/Anders) - pre-Act 1

When the waiting room cleared, a tall, blond man stepped out from the curtained area, scrubbing a hand over his face. The dwarf approached him and pointed her out as they conversed. A brief flash of panic crossed the healer’s face when he saw her, but he seemed to shake it off, thanking the dwarf before walking over to her. He greeted her with an apologetic smile, “Sorry about the wait. Maksim…takes his job very seriously.”

Silverite Moon (M, F!Amell/Nathaniel) - unpublished, Awakening

Velanna had been observing quietly, but asked Sigrun next to her, “Why is that funny?”

The legionnaire nearly fell from her seat giggling, and Anders answered for her, “Well he’s either going to try to kill her or kiss her. In either case, we might need a new archer.”

And from my only non-DA work, a Skyrim behemoth known as God of Monsters - (E, Forsworn Dragonborn)

The Matriarch smeared a bit of the bloody paste - a mix of crushed eyes, dragon blood, and a generous portion of void salts - between her own sparse brows. She dipped her thumb again, and anointed Ruari’s forehead, “Eagle of the Reach.” Melka stepped back momentarily, concentrating, and then anointed Ruari’s lips, “Dragon of the North.” The girls watched, visibly awestruck at the hagraven’s ritual. She paused again for a moment, and made the final mark on Ruari’s chest, above her heart, “Wolf of Oblivion.”

[local-starry-catboi]

Sinfonia Achievements

Achievement Categories

Wonders of the World

Challenger: Series IX

Mortal Travails: Series V

Meeting in Outrealm: Series V

Sinfonia: Symphonic Virtuoso

Sinfonia: Orchestra of Art and Tradition

More under the cut for length

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✶ Wonders of the World

Reputation Achievement:

"Superstar in Sinfonia": Reach Reputation Lv. 10 in Sinfonia.

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✶ Sinfonia: Orchestra of Art and Tradition

Sinfonia: Orchestra of Art and Tradition contains Achievements related to Sinfonia and rewards the Achievement: Maestro Namecard.

Crescendo Forge:

"Inferno's Refrain Perfected": Upgrade the Crescendo Forge in Sinfonia to its maximum level.

Statues of the Seven:

"Artisan's Tradition": Upgrade the Statues of The Seven in Sinfonia to their maximum level.

"Continental Explorer: Sinfonia Fantastica (I - V)": Light up the maps of Sinfonia.

Teleport Waypoints:

"Bard's Recollection (I - V)": Unlock all Teleport Waypoints in Sinfonia.

Shrines of Depth:

"Sanctuary Pilgrim: Sinfonia Fantastica (I - V)": Unlock all the Shrines of Depths in Sinfonia.

Seelie Courts:

"Guide to Harmony (I - V)": Follow 3 Seelie in [Sub] Region to their Seelie Courts.

"Guide to Harmony (I - V)": Follow 6 Seelie in [Sub] Region to their Seelie Courts.

"Guide to Harmony (I - V)": Follow 9 Seelie in [Sub] Region to their Seelie Courts.

Treasure Chests:

"A Capella Treasure Hunter (I - V)": Open 60 treasure chests in [Sub] Region.

"A Capella Treasure Hunter (I - V)": Open 120 treasure chests in [Sub] Region.

"A Capella Treasure Hunter (I - V)": Open 200 treasure chests in [Sub] Region.

Time Trials:

"A Capella Adventurer (I - V)": Complete 3 Open World Time Trial Challenges in [Sub] Region.

"A Capella Adventurer (I - V)": Complete 6 Open World Time Trial Challenges in [Sub] Region.

"A Capella Adventurer (I - V)": Complete 12 Open World Time Trial Challenges in [Sub] Region.

Side Notes:

"In [Sub] Region" refers to:

[Sub 1] — Serenata Coast and Armonia Plateau

[Sub 2] — Crescendo Isles and Vivace Vineyard

[Sub 3] — Allegro Vale

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✶ Sinfonia: Symphonic Virtuoso

Sinfonia: Symphonic Virtuoso contains Achievements related to Sinfonia and rewards the Achievement: Overture Namecard.

"Sea Shanty Collector":

Learn and perform a collection of traditional sea shanties at Alba Harbour.

"Lunar Serenity":

Witness a breathtaking lunar eclipse at Luna Beach.

"Grand Fashionista":

Explore and collect various traditional outfits and accessories, showcasing Sinfonia's unique fashion and style.

"Mystical Melodies":

Discover and activate all Radiant Spincrystals in Sinfonia.

"Abyssal Vanquisher":

Defeat the last remaining Abyssal creatures that emerged during the Cataclysm.

"Minuet Trailblazer":

Unlock and solve all encoded messages and inscriptions in Sinfonia.

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✶ Mortal Travails: Series V

Mortal Travails: Series V contains Achievements related to Sinfonia and rewards the Achievement: Roamers Namecard.

"Follow the Melody":

Obtain the power of Sono.

"Comedy, Divine":

Collect the entire "Divina Commedia" series.

"Hopeless Romantic":

Collect the entire "The Knight and the Spring Fairy" series.

"Renaissance Records":

Collect the entire "Fugue Chronicles" series.

"Siren's Call":

Explore and unlock the secrets of the Siren's Grotto.

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✶ Meeting in Outrealm: Series V

Meetings in Outrealm: Series V contains Achievements related to Sinfonia and rewards the Achievement: Celestial Sojourner Namecard.

"Symphony of Destruction":

Defeat Sono Hypostasis in Co-Op Mode.

"Singing Flowers":

Defeat Sono Regisvine in Co-Op Mode.

"Of Monsters and Man":

Defeat Bassline Behemoth in Co-Op Mode.

"Strings Plucked At Last":

Defeat Havoc Harpist in Co-Op Mode.

"Orchestrated Fall":

Defeat Seraph Maestra in Co-Op Mode.

"Vanguard and Guarddogs":

Defeat Lullaby Labyrinth Keeper in Co-Op Mode.

"Concert's Final Echo":

Defeat Echo Weaver in Co-Op Mode.

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✶ Challenger: Series IX

Challenger: Series IX contains Achievements related to Sinfonia and rewards the Achievement: Elite Rival Namecard.

"Rude Awakening":

Defeat the Lullaby Labyrinth Keeper without any party member being affected by its sleep-inducing melodies.

"Echo's Vanquisher":

Defeat the Sono Hypostasis without being hit by any of its echoing illusions.

"Magnum Opus":

Defeat the Echo Weaver without getting hit by his soundwaves.

"Fall from Grace":

Force the Seraph Maestra to crash onto the platform.

"Seraph's Silence":

Silence the celestial seraph's song.

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Crossposted on Genshin Impact Amino

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[barovianbitches]

Tyyran-y - Constantin & Tyyran (Villain AU)

Years had passed since the Bard College at Ayrenza had banished a young Tyyran Drachedandion from their halls. His comic acts and mirthful melodies had thrown the patrons of the academy into a rage, and in their pearl-clutching fury they'd sent the young Dragonborn away. Since that time, he had gotten drunk, partied, played songs and told jokes... And he had also found himself in the dark realm of Barovia. The land of mists. There, with a Tiefling, a human, a strange Warlock with a crab friend and a few locals in tow, they adventured through the land, gotten into trouble, and through some unfortunate events… found the spark of motivation to return. Marching through the mists, the triumphant, talented Dragonborn marched into the halls of his old academy. He had been forged in the crucible of Barovia, and was no longer the timid young comedian he once was, rather, a charismatic, sly and noble bard of great skill and wit, and with him he brought the wrath of the Land of Mists in the form of Constantin Vasiliev, a towering behemoth of a man. If Tyyran was the body of the revolution, Constantin was the arm that bore the sword, and with it, the Dragonborn quickly found himself at the seat of his own empire, an academy which he was set to run his way, rather than the prude ways of his forebears.

Thus began the Age of Tyyran the Tyyrannical. Ayrenza, once a school of noble import and a respected institution, now devolved to a happy house of jesters and bards, with an utter clown at the seat of authority, and a dark shadow looming at his side.

Tyyran had it. After all that time he had spent wallowing in self-pity. After all that time he spent in Barovia, he had finally figured out what he needed to do. He'd seen so much brutality, so much bloodshed that he was numbed to it. He was bitter and he wanted the revenge he deserved for being exiled and humiliated. He returned in the cover of night with his secret weapon... a maddened brute of a man who hungered for power just as Tyyran did. 

They found Shirren. Asleep in the high tower of Tyyran's old bard school. This was the Noble who had ripped the future from him. This was the noble who cast him away for such ludicrous reasons. Tyyran was about to get his sweet sweet revenge, and according to tradition, once he killed Shirren, he would become the new noble of Aryenza. The two had taken care of the guards at the door and crept into the room with an aura of bloodthirst. Constantin was quick and precise. A small grunt of surprise and then a pool of blood dripping down from the bedside. Tyyran emerged from the shadows, scars covered his scales and a deranged smile glinted in the moonlight. Shirren was still clinging to life as the blood left his body. Tyyran grabbed one of the noble's horns and shook him once while he muttered, 

"No more jokes and japes here. You created this monster, Shirren. I'm as serious as you wanted me to be." His smile grew wider, "Now die. Alone and surrounded by enemies." He threw the noble's head back and it hit the bed post. Shirren lulled to one side and eyes turned milky as his gurgling last breath escaped. 

The next day, he announced his take over with his silver lute. Commanding all in his Presence to love and fear him. He basked in his new position. For the first time he was getting what he always wanted. Love from crowds of people. Respect from complete strangers and dear friends alike. Power to change what he didn't like. Then... his father showed up. 

There was a spark of something primal in Tyyran. Something that snapped him out of his power-hungry state when he saw his dad. He wanted to run into his father's arms. He wanted to cry and say how much he missed him. However, when he glanced over at Constantin... He was reminded that his father did nothing for him when he was exiled. His father left him to fend for himself and the anger returned in full force. 

"Father." He addressed calmly.

"Tyyran. My son. What has happened to you?" Rhorrin asked with a tremble in his voice.

"What do you mean what happened to me, dad." Tyyran snarled, "I was humiliated and cast into a world of curses and death. And you." Tyyran pointed at him with a glare, "You did nothing for me. You stayed here with your books and stayed quiet."

Rhorrin's expression changed from concerned to indignant, "Tyyran. The whole time you were gone, I was campaigning against the decision. I was doing everything in my power to get the decision reversed. I had to do it by the book though in order to make it a lasting change-"

"PAH! You're weak, RHORRIN. You should have done what I did and just TAKEN what you wanted. Guards, get him out of here. I don't want to see his face again. Put him in jail if you have to." Tyyran spat.

Rhorrin's eyes shimmered in the dim candlelight. The hurt on his face was undeniable. Tyyran felt that pang again. He hated it. He didn't want to think about it. These feelings... he had to fend them off with rage and anger. That's where they stayed... Behind the broiling fires of his hate. 

He turned to Constantin, "Now it's time to fulfill my promise to you, my friend. Let's gather that army."

Constantin stared on with a dark glare as Tyyran monologued and made fun of his victims, and exiled his own father to the prisons of the college. The dragon bard Constantin once knew had long since died. He was right, Barovia killed Tyyran the kind, innocent and joyful, and gave birth to an angry, spiteful monster. Charisma, once natural and pure, became a sharpened weapon of word and wit. 

He noticed, every now and then, the looks he received from his new ‘lord’. The sideways glances, often before major decisions to be made. Perhaps the Barovian acted as a motivator, a reminder of the price of power. Yet he remained silently loyal. As time went on and Tyyran the Tyyrannical established his claim, he acted as a silent enforcer, the right hand balled into an iron fist. 

His focus returned to the moment as Tyyran addressed him. “If I may, my lord.” He grumbled, bowing his head in reverent deference, a reprehensible act but necessary to maintain the image of authority. “You move too hastily. You have your vengeance. To muster an army now would raise suspicion and opposition in equal measure.” The Barovian had found himself a forked tongue, it seems, as the once-noble Paladin schemed with the bard. 

“You must cultivate loyalty, form alliances. To march on Ravenloft with the army of a fool’s academy -“ He paused, catching on the presumed insult. “Without, of course, the reinstatement of your discipline and education, as well as allies from other lands… It would be suicide.”

Tyyran reveled in his newfound power yet when Constantin spoke, he found it hard not to listen, "Yeah. You're probably right." He rubbed his chin in thought, "Why don't we invite some of the neighboring tribe's nobles and rulers out for a nice little dinner?" Tyyran cracked a malicious grin. Thinking about the way he could use his lute to influence their decisions and loyalty. 

I know this is what needs to be done. 

Another voice broke through in an annoying meek way, Remember Yvan? Would he have liked to see you this way?

Tyyran outwardly squirmed and tried to correct his posture again.

Shut up shut up shut up shut up! Yvan is gone! No point in thinking of that now!! I am a vicious ruler. One who will prove to the world he was deserving of love and respect for his talent!!

Yvan loved you for the way you were...

Tyyran got up abruptly and rubbed his brow, "What do you think, Constantin? Should I send the messenger now or wait a few days?"

He had to focus on something else lest this worm of guilt consume him.

“It will be several days travel. Send them now, my lord, if you desire their presence on the first of the week.” Constantin said. “We must make haste as well, lord Tyyran.” He continued, gesturing a black-gloved hand to the door. “You have an appointment with the former chief of the academy guard. He hopes to petition you for his position.”

Tyyran glanced over at the door, "Yeah yeah. Send him in." Tyyran whispered out of the side of his mouth, "Let's see who this buffoon is gunna be." And rolled his eyes as he shifted in his ... throne? Large imposing badass evil chair? Whatever. It was big, fancy and made him look menacing. He was excited to get on with more of his berating.

The armored giant stood next to the throne, and tapped a massive, wicked glaive against the marble floors, signaling the doors to open. Two of the academy guard ushered in a hooded figure, who strode down the marble hall to stand before Tyyran. 

“Kneel.” Constantin commanded gruffly, slamming the butt of his glaive into the floor once again for emphasis. The figure dropped to a reverent knee, prostrating themselves before the new Lord. 

“Announce yourself.” The Barovian ordered.

Tyyran eyed the new figure in his court. His build was slender... He noticed this dragonborn had jet-black scales with... hints of purple... Tyyran almost choked as the figure looked up from his kneeling position. The hood fell back and the face of a more mature Arrhin stared back at him, "Lord Tyyran... I'm not sure if you remember me... But I'm Arrhin... we met-"

"I know who you are." Tyyran said in a low tone, "What? Do you think just because you were kind to me once you get your position back?"

Arrhin stammered, seemingly flustered at the Tyyran that stood before him now that was nothing like the young exile he met in Bracklewhyte, "No. Not at all. When I heard you had come to power... I-" Arrhin took a breath, "I respect you, My lord. It would be an honor to serve under you." There it was again that gnawing aggravating voice. 

Arrhin respected you as you were...Now what will he think of you? Tyyran waved the idiotic thought from his brain and stood up from his chair with a noble flair, raising his chin into the air, "I think you will have to prove yourself to me. Play me a funny song. Immediately."

The Dragonborn looked on, stunned. Constantin offered the tyrant a subtle, questioning side-eye, but said nothing. Silence filled the hall. “Do not defy him!” The black-clad behemoth bellowed, pointing the jagged blade of his glaive at the kneeling Dragonborn. He looked to the guard standing at the petitioner’s left. “Fetch him an instrument of his choice. We will at least play fair, as is the nature of our benevolent Lord.” Constantin snarled. 

Arrhin shuddered under the shout of the Barovian. It was a rare sight to see Constantin Vasiliev, even rarer to hear him speak. Legends abound of Tyyran’s dark enforcer, a warlock of a long-lost land who had made a pact with an evil god for revenge against another. Within Ayrenza, the man was simply the dark shadow of the new tyrant, a bodyguard to soothe the Bard’s paranoia and an example of his connections. 

Rumors further ran of his true capabilities. Whispers came of dissenters seeing a shadow at their window in the night, and then being found utterly savaged the next morning. Never had anyone seen Constantin execute someone, but all who looked upon him did not doubt he was capable. Having earned the title of the Tyrant’s Lapdog for his unwavering fealty, few would argue what he would do for his Lord.

The Dragonborn grabbed a lute that was offered to him by a nearby guard. He strummed it softly, clearing his throat.

“From Larsten to Dregnaught… This music shall be sought… Try not to start choking… When I am done joking….?” He sang weakly, fearfully, eyes flicking between Tyyran and his bodyguard.

Tyyran froze. His body going as stiff as an old corpse. He turned his head slowly and a rush of feelings and memories came flooding into him. He cried out in a fit of emotion, "STOP"

The room went dreadfully quiet and it felt as though everyone was holding their breath.

"No. no. no." Tyyran mumbled wildly as he strode toward Arrhin. He hated thinking about the past. He hated every moment it stood there in front of him. Mocking him. Tyyran grabbed the more slender dragonborn by the neck. Tyyran was a flaming mass of anger and regret. As he held Arrhin by the throat he considered that this is almost exactly what Shirren had done to him... with a little less violence... Tyyran's anger flickered into realization and he dropped Arrhin to the ground, the other reptilian spluttered and gasped.

"You aren't Tyyran... huff anymore... cough…are you?" 

Tyyran had his back to the other dragonborn at this point, casting an eerie shadow over him. Constantin stood watching with narrowed eyes in the background, clearly seeing the madness filling his lord's eyes.

"No. No I'm not" Tyyran giggled. He began to laugh maniacally, "You know... that was a pretty funny song." He turned back, "But the old Tyyran wrote that." He then strode back to his chair, sat down. One leg lifted over the other and he rested his head in his hand, "Throw him in with my father."

The guards complied silently, dragging the screaming Dragonborn away to the prisons, in the cavernous undercroft. Constantin offered a stern glare to the guards as they departed, before turning to Tyyran. “Respectfully, my lord, he was the most qualified individual presently in the academy to command the Guard Corps. Who do you intend to appoint in his stead?” The man intoned flatly. 

It was uncommon that Constantin directly challenged one of Tyyran the Tyyrannical’s decisions, but there were ground rules. It was always in private, and the man had a track record of being right. As in, he only stepped up with total certainty, preying on the trust formed in the lands of Barovia and hoping it would prevail over the tyrant’s seeming madness. 

“Many of your detractors will see this as powerful ammunition.”

Tyyran took a breath trying to build his walls back up again, he glanced up at Constantin acknowledging his input, "There's another dragonborn who I remember was ruthless at the school." Tyyran uncrossed his legs and leaned forward intertwining his fingers, "His name is Gherro. If he's still in the Guard Corps, and you think he's up to snuff, promote him." The manic Lord sat back up, rubbed his brow and pointed a finger at Constantin, "Oh, and send that messenger for the dinner immediately. I'm going to go have a glass of wine."

Tyyran got up and made his way to his private study.

“As you command.” Constantin muttered, turning towards the door. Outside, he barked a command to a guard to find this ‘Gherro’ and have him report to the training field. 

Tyyran’s office was well-decorated, the former occupant leaving behind a great deal of finery as well as an excellent wine selection in the cabinet, that which Constantin had beaten the lock off of. There was a large plush chair ripe for the sitting behind the fine mahogany desk.

Tyyran flopped into the chair. He held back tears of frustration. He was going mad he was sure of it. He flung the doors of the cabinet wide open and grabbed the first bottle of wine he could reach. He hastily pulled the cork and shakily filled a glass with the dark red substance. For a moment he imagined it was blood, pouring all over his hands and he had to take a swig of the bottle just to remind himself it was just wine. 

What am I doing to these people who loved me? A whiny quiet voice rang inside of him.

A much louder booming voice came through, "I'M A NEW PERSON! I'M GETTING EVERYTHING I EVER WANTED! NO ONE WILL STAND IN MY WAY."

Tyyran began whispering aloud as he gulped down his wine, "shut up shut up shut up shut up"

Roughly an hour passed as Tyyran mired in his sorrow and drank his grief away. As dusk fell on the Academy, the glow-globes in the office cast a dull amber light over the surroundings, and just as the room fell to total, utter silence, a figure materialized in the corner of the office, one left empty for seemingly no reason.

Tyyran jumped and cursed when Constantin emerged from the shadows, "Fuck, Constantin. You scared the living shit right outta me." Tyyran took another swig trying to half pull himself back together, "What did Ghorrin say about taking over the position." He slurred.

“I tested his mettle.” Constantin grunted, stepping into the light. His armored fists were soaked in blood, and a faint line of crimson ichor trickled down his nose. “If I was not here to ensure your safety, my lord, I would not trust him. However, he is suitable for the position. He has been given the honor of guarding your halls.”

Tyyran could likely tell, even in his stupor, that Constantin likely did not ASK Gherro about taking the job.

Tyyran eyed the man for a second and nodded, "Good. Good. This is why I appreciate you, Constantin. No nonsense. You know what to do and you do it right." Tyyran grabbed the bottle in front of him and swirled the last little bit of liquid. He pushed a handkerchief towards Constantin with the other, "You got a lil... Somethin somethin right uhhh" Tyyran gestured toward his whole body.

The Barovian behemoth stared Tyyran down, sniffing slightly, before wiping the blood from his face. He stared Tyyran down, a piercing stare, even with his dull, sunken blue eyes. He stood silently, looking around the room. His eyes locked on a picture frame, on the corner of the desk. He could not see it, but he knew what it held.

A photo of several figures. A Tiefling, a large, blue woman, a short, golden-eyed man, Constantin, Tyyran, and a large, handsome man with his arms wrapped around Tyyran. Constantin stalked over to the desk, taking the frame in his hands. "The messengers have been dispatched." He said, staring at the picture with a gaze of contempt, turning away from Tyyran to pace as he observed the portrait. 

"You swore to me that we would raise an army. We would march again on Barovia, drag Strahd's entrails across Ravenloft's battlements, yes?" He asked suddenly, casting a gaze over his shoulder to the drunken dragon.

Tyyran's face grew dark as well seeing the way Constantin observed the photo... It made him angry again. Tyyran growled and slammed the bottle to the floor, glass shattering everywhere, "Don't doubt me Constantin! I'm just as driven as you are to make this a reality. I, too, want to rip Strahd to shreds! I-" Tyyran realized that Constantin had seen the way he'd been acting today and that he was trying to remind him of why they were here in the first place. Why they had even come back at all from Barovia. They were here to be relentless, gather a powerful army and avenge their fallen friends. Tyyran kicked some glass shards out of the way in a huff and walked past Constantin trying to avoid looking at the photo, "I'm... tired. I'm going to my bedchamber to sleep off this alcohol. Tomorrow, we'll discuss plans for our 'dinner.' "

Constantin’s massive hand shot out and caught Tyyran by the shoulder, in a firm grip. Firm enough to be a reminder of his bone-crushing power, but restrained enough to not hurt. “Remember who we do this for. His death wounds me as deeply as it does you. The only way we can avenge him is through focus.” Constantin snarled. His eyes glowed with an unnatural fury. “Rest, my lord.” He said, the deferent title seeming a bit…. Empty. “We will discuss this once you are again sober.”

With that, the dragon was released and again Constantin simply disappeared into the shadows.

Tyyran shivered then gave an angry scowl. Of course I'll focus. I'll be the most focused. The best at being focused. He turned away to walk to his bedchambers. The bands of moonlight that filtered in from the tall windows illuminated him in beats as he strode briskly down the stone hall. With each bright cadence Tyyran's expression went from anger to complete maniacal madness. 

‘What have you done?’

‘I will kill you.’ ‘Shut up SHUT UP. LET ME FOCUS.’

‘You'll kill me?’ ‘I am you or maybe the better you.’ ‘You've become a monster.’

Tyyran stumbled in a streak of pale illumination and fell back into a wall holding his head. The alcohol was making everything swirl. His sense of self breaking down. Images of Yvan began popping into his head. No. No stop.

"STOP!" he cried aloud and began booking it to his door. He threw it open and crumpled to the cold stone in his room. Crawling forward he grabbed his silver lute from its stand. 

He strummed a few chords and suddenly, his world went quiet. He took a deep breath and began to quietly hum a tune. That's where he sat, leaned up against the lute stand until the gentle rays of sunlight danced over the horizon.

Constantin had retired to an office of his own, a dark oubliette deep in the pits of the academy. Lit only by dim candles, Constantin found himself face to face with a magic mirror, and as he looked on his mangled, sickly face, relics of years of war against the dark powers of Barovia, another dark power took form in the mirror, a snarling glare fixed on the Paladin-turned-Warlock. A voice, like nails on a chalkboard, ripped into Constantin's mind. 

"You waste time with this foolish dragon-lord while I battle the forces of Death AND the laws of Order. Do you understand, Vasiliev, the price I paid to tear your soul from Barovia?" The voice demanded.

"Yes, I am well aware-" Constantin spat, whirling around to face away from the mirror as he spoke. "- of the great price paid, my Lord. I have paid in kind. Strahd will die! I just need TIME!" He roared, planting a boot against his desk, splintering the wood explosively and sending papers and inkwells flying. 

"The Dragon is a weakling. If you want to keep in my good graces, you will eradicate this distraction and return to Barovia with haste." The eldritch voice continued, as Constantin's arms began to crackle with sickly green lightning. "That was not our deal."

"I wrote the contract, and I can change it, little bear." The voice said sarcastically. "Fine. Keep your last little friend. You have a month to return to Barovia before I reclaim my powers and allow your soul to disintegrate. Am I understood?"

"Yes, my Lord." Constantin growled, not yet looking at the mirror. "Look at me when you speak." The voice snarled, and a spike of pain shot through Constantin's head, forcing him to a knee, where he then turned to the mirror, his glare rising to the glass. "Yes... My Lord." The man grunted again. With a satisfied smirk, the face disappeared, and Constantin collapsed, heaving a shaky, rageful breath. The Tyyrant's bodyguard was not again seen until morning, when a knock, knock, knock landed on Tyyran's door, shortly after first light.

Tyyran bolted at the knocking, nearly dropping his lute to the floor. He grasped it in panic and got up to put it back on the stand. Whew, that was close... Can't afford to lose this lute. He thought, wiping sweat from his brow. The dragonborn had a splitting headache and the way he slept had him sore from head to toe. Tyyran went to the door and opened it just a crack to see who was there. A dark, imposing presence sat at the door, one that instilled fear and exuded death and danger.

So, Constantin.

Tyyran opened the door fully, "Ah. Constantin. I assume you've come to talk details about our plan?"

"If that is your will. I see you've not slept." The man said bluntly, not yet entering the dragonborn's quarters. He looked past Tyyran into the room, noting the mild state of disarray, before he locked his eyes back on Tyyran. "You must present yourself with confidence, efficiency and nobility. You have more enemies than you know, and they look for any weakness to manipulate." He said, a bit more truth in his words than he'd let on. Tyyran smoothed his hair back and took a deep breath in and breathed out, "Yeah. Yeah. I know. I know. Give me a second to clean myself up. I'll meet you downstairs in the Council Chamber." Constantin nodded, walking away.

The morning glow warmed the cracked stone of the old building as Tyyran made his way downstairs. He had put on his best suit today, brushed his hair back and stood with an air of superiority. Today he had his lute with him, strapped to his back in a protective cover embroidered with purple and gold. He stepped into the Council Chambers, the creaking of the doors echoed through the vast hall. Constantin was already standing next to the round table. A large map set upon the wall. Tyyran briskly made his way over, focusing on the tribes and countries marked, "I see you've already set things up." Tyyran remarked, pretentiously swinging himself into the biggest chair possible.

"Time is too valuable to waste with setup." Constantin replied, holding a long swagger stick in his hand. He used it to refer to the map, as well as tap his palm idly. Once Tyyran had settled in, and the retinue of staff and servants had made their ritual of offering him any manner of food, drink, ottoman to rest his feet on, a glass of wine, a pillow... They disappeared into the wings once the head of the staff noticed Constantin's twitching eyelid and grit teeth.

"If you are satisfied with the service, my Lord, shall I begin?"

Tyyran chomped loudly on a piece of toast and took a small sip of the wine, "Yes."

"Lovely." Constantin replied, through grit teeth, a long, thin smile stretching across his face. The Barovian titan turned his attention to the map, and began to deliver a monologue on the various nation-states and wandering tribes that inhabited their region of the Sword Coast. He went on for nearly two hours, detailing everything one could possibly want to know about them, as well as information about how best to curry their favor, or in certain cases, manipulate them. He finally turned back to Tyyran, to gauge how well he had followed along.

Tyyran tried really hard to pay attention. He really did. but it was SO BORING. The dragonborn sat fiddling his claws and staring out the window. He got some info about some guys to the east being the most powerful ally for resources? And then some warlord who was notorious for having a well-disciplined and strategic army? Constantin turned back to him and he perked up, "Soooo, it sounds like we just need to invite... those guys." Tyyran gestured to the map vaguely.

“Yes... I have done this.” Constantin said plainly, with a note of tired annoyance in his voice. “My Lord, if you are going to simply laze about during these briefings, swill your wine and dream of the flower fields... We do not have to have them.” Crossing his arms, he stared down at the dragon in his little chair. “I would not waste your valuable time. I understand your desire to remain informed, but perhaps... Perhaps I issue a shorter briefing, and simply take charge of decisions at this level?” The man inquired.

This was a clear and obvious power play. Constantin was suggesting that Tyyran relinquish authority over international, interorganizational and public relations to the Barovian with violent tendencies and anger issues. Decorum was not particularly Constantin’s strongest suit, and Tyyran knew this... But think of all the time he could have to drink, play his lute and try not to think of Yvan while Connie did all the dirty work…

Tyyran looked offended, "I'm here, aren't I? I'm not 'LAZING' about! Sure I want a glass of wine here and some breakfast... and perhaps these meetings make my brain hurt." Tyyran gritted his teeth a bit, frustrated with how Constantin saw him. Though, he partly knew Constantin was right, "Fine. We'll be brief with these meetings. I think I remember most of the names of those who will be at the dinner. At least then I can put into play what I am good at." Tyyran gave a mischievous smile, "And that's charming my way through to a crown."

“Precisely.” Replied the Barovian, with a sharp smile. For a moment, something in his eyes softened. A familiar gaze showing through. Constantin. Not the executioner he had become, but Tyyran’s old friend. “T-“ He caught himself. “My lord. I mean no offense. Your talent and aptitude lies in charm and charisma. Duties I could never fulfill. I simply suggest you allow me to handle that of which I am capable, to allow you to direct your focus to your talents.” He pauses. “With such efficiency, we can redouble our efforts to avenge our friends…. And to resurrect Yvan.” 

Tyyran could feel his heart skip at the mention of Yvan. However, every few short happy memories of the two together was replaced with bitter sorrow from the aftermath. Tyyran focused upward with a glint in his eye, "I agree, Constantin. Let's be more... efficient."

As Tyyran wandered away from the briefing, Constantin leered over the map. A voice whispered in his mind, a sickening sneer. “Tick, tock, Vasiliev. You are running out of time.” Gritting his teeth and bringing a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, the man cursed in hushed Barovian. The taunting continued, and as a guard poked their head in to ask after the Lord’s bodyguard, they witnessed him drive his fist through the map table, shattering the entire display into splinters with an enraged shout. The guard disappeared as quickly as he’d arrived once Constantin established eye contact, a murderous glare in his dull, blue eyes. Leaving the wreckage of his briefing, the man stepped into the shadows, again disappearing, this time for nearly a week.

Several days had passed since Constantin had sent out dinner invitations on behalf of the dragon Bard. Ayrenza was alight with hustle and bustle, students, servants, staff all doing their best to stay out of the way of everyone else. The guard was thoroughly stressed, as their new commander and inexperienced staff did their best to process courts, retinues and organized parties from all across the Sword Coast. An Ennari delegation from the Elven highlands, Spirit-seers offering their foresight to any who would listen, essayed into the dining hall where their chief, Eldrad took a seat at a table. The barbaric warlords from the northlands, somehow bringing a civilized retinue and presenting gifts of weapons and fine furs. Thallax Gorechild escorted away from the head of the table, to a seat a few chairs down. In Tyyran's house, only he sat at the head of the table. 

Several more processions and delegates essayed their way in, before the final guest arrived. A drifter, in a cloak of leather and a dark hood, known only to the Ayrenzan Academy Guard as... The Desert Wind. He was offered a seat at the other end of the table, as the others vied for proximity to Tyyran. As servants loaded the table and served wine, Constantin stomped through a door, his heavy footfalls echoing across the marble. Armor black as night, seeming to consume nearby light, his voice echoed, distinct Barovian accent tinting every word. "Presenting the grand, noble, mighty Lord Tyyran Drachedandion. Master of Ayrenza, First of the Reformists. Honored be his name." With such an introduction, all rose, the Desert Wind last to join them.

Tyyran swept in with an elegant air. His chin held high and his posture strong. The dragonborn was elaborately decorated in silver, gold and purple hues. The suit he wore was embroidered head to toe in magnificent floral patterns. The lute he cherished strapped to his back. He made his way to the head of his table, his reptilian eyes scanning those who had come. Almost everyone had cloaks on because of the cold weather that was persistent in this area. However, Tyyran's eye caught one figure whose cloak obscured his face. He immediately became suspicious but rubbed it off for now. Once he was able to perform for everyone at this dinner, they'd all be wrapped around his claw. 

Tyyran stood next to his chair. He raised a goblet full of wine, "Welcome, valued guests. As the new Noble of Aryenza, I intend on getting to know all of you as esteemed neighbors and, hopefully, as friends. Drink and be merry as I play a ballad for all of you." Tyyran began to extract the silver lute from its holster. The gathered delegation applauded politely, and all took their seats at the table. As they sat, the man at the end of the table brought hands subtly to the sides of his head, looking to smooth his hair under his hat. Tyyran held the attention of the room, save for Constantin, whose eyes scanned across the gathered nobility, ready to leap at the first sign of trouble.

The gathered delegation applauded politely, and all took their seats at the table. As they sat, the man at the end of the table brought hands subtly to the sides of his head, looking to smooth his hair under his hat. Tyyran held the attention of the room, save for Constantin, whose eyes scanned across the gathered nobility, ready to leap at the first sign of trouble.

Tyyran took to a small stage at the head of the room. His eyes glinted with mischievous intent. Tyyran began to play the lute. A new song he wrote specifically for this event;

A ballad of bravery. 

Of sadness and memory. 

A Vengeance turned stone.

And rising to the throne. 

As Tyyran strummed on the little instrument, a haze fell over the audience. The crazed Noble smiled with glee as he focused on everyone in the room, imparting a feeling of loyalty and respect. 

We worship the master of song! 

A reign that will last and is strong! 

A power that rings like a sound.

He sure would look good in a crown! 

Tyyran put his all into the performance, trying to keep everyone mesmerized. Watching all of them to make sure the spell was working. He couldn't let any of them get away in case the charm didn't work. He eyed Constantin making sure he also was watching the assembly... He surely was, glaring at the assembled delegation, faint wards glowing over his ears. What good would a warrior be if he were charmed by every little song? The gathered nobles were enraptured with the song. At least, it looked that way. All of them applauded loudly and raucously, all except for one, who offered a polite measure of applause, not yet looking up to meet Tyyran’s gaze. Leather-gloved hands gave out a muted applause.

Tyyran made his way down from the stage, examining everyone's faces, "Thank you. Thank you. You're all too much!" His already toothy grin cracked farther, as he posed a question to test how the spell worked, "Now, how do we all feel about forming a union? One under my rule?" Everyone at the table hooted and hollered, even the most stony and beastly leaders were compelled to shout “YES YES! MAKE TYYRAN OUR KING!” Tyyran could feel that little annoying voice in the back of his mind get drowned out by the cheering crowd. This is exactly what I've always wanted. I love this. I want this all the time. I love this power. I deserve this power. 

“You really have changed, Silvertongue.” A voice drawled from the end of the table. Needles of familiarity poked at the back of Tyyran’s mind, yet they did not knit a picture just yet. “I mean, not really.” The voice continued. “You were always the charmin’ sort, but it looks like you went mad fer’ power, and you brought the walkin’ corpse along for muscle.”

Tyyran froze where he stood. He eyed the cloaked figure who had drawn the attention of the whole room. ‘Where have I heard that voice before?’ Tyyran began to play the lute on one continuous finger pluck as he spoke, hoping the spell's effect might amplify. "I know you...You're-"

“The Desert Wind, silvertongue. It’s been a while.” 

With a wry grin, the stranger revealed his face, lifting his hat from his head. A handlebar mustache, well-kempt sat under a large nose, and gleaming green eyes stared down the Dragonborn. A long-lost face, likely thought lost to time, or the Mists. It was that man he’d met so long ago. Rough, uncouth, outright rude… But a helping hand. A hired gun.

 Sterling John Moses Winchester.

What he was doing here, none could tell. He was no noble, no great leader of men. How he’d made the dinner list was a mystery to all, even Constantin, who stared on with no sort of recognizance whatsoever. Tyyran grew frustrated. His tune clearly not wrapping itself around his target... Sterling!! ‘No! It had been so long... How is he still alive??’ 

Tyyran spat at the old acquaintance, "YOU SAW HOW CLOSE ALL OF US WERE! YOU KNOW THEY'RE ALL DEAD NOW, RIGHT?! This is what comes when evil begets evil." 

Tyyran kept strumming the lute to keep everyone in the room calm and orderly, "Moreover... STERLING... You're outnumbered here." Tyyran laughed and nodded to Constantin while he commanded those in the room to attack the cowboy.

"Sorry, son. Ain't gonna be that easy." The Cowboy’s pistol twirled in his hand, a dexterous spin as it was drawn from the leather holster on his belt. The man fired three shots. The first, aimed at the lute. A classic Sterling technique, a disarming shot. The next two, walked up the fretboard of the instrument, as the man was intent on disabling Tyyran's control over the crowd. Constantin was slow on the uptake, reaching for his glaive, as if all of this seemed to happen in slow motion. Tyyran felt the hard ricochet of bullets off the lute, the fretboard shattered under his fingers which caused him to drop the instrument entirely. Tyyran cried out in both fear and grief, "Constantin! Grab the gun from him!"

Constantin leaped into action, hefting his polearm and tearing off towards Sterling, but before he could make it, two cloaked figures leaped out from behind pillars. Dragonborn, with longswords and parrying daggers. Their hoods were torn from their heads as they met the dark giant in combat. Prisoners escaped from their cell, Rhorrin and Arrhin. They swung at Constantin's knees, Tyyran's father catching an armored boot to the face while Arrhin caught a vicious swipe from the glaive in response. They did not survive long, but the escapees had fulfilled their task. They'd given Sterling time. "Sorry to hear about yer' friends, and yer' boyfriend. Sure they woulda' known you were better than this. Sorry, buckaroo. You went about it wrong, and I can't let it continue." Sterling drawled, the barrel of his gun still smoking from the rapid burst. "For what it's worth... I really liked you when you weren't a maniac. You were a real good singer. Shame it had to end this way." 

Click... BANG!

Everything happened in an instant. However, to Tyyran, it seemed the world slowed down. He witnessed how Constantin tore through two of the people he knew he loved but didn't want to face... Echoes of the past booming with the sound of a revolver... a little voice that sang quietly in the back of his head... And something warm began to flush in his chest. He looked down to see vivid red dripping through his dress shirt. He'd been...shot. 

‘Tyyran, what have you become? You're going to die as a monster... you idiot. You stupid lizard-’ Tyyran fell to his knees making painful eye contact with Constantin for a brief moment and tears began to form in his eyes... In this moment, He was no longer a power hungry tyrant... he was no longer mad with guilt and grief... For a moment he was Tyyran. The Tyyran that was banished from this very school for being a goof... The Tyyran Yvan loved. The Tyyran of the before. With a raspy gurgling breath Tyyran wheezed to Constantin, "I'm sorry, Constantin... I couldn't do it..." Then he crumpled... his head swirling with last thoughts and distant memories. The laughs and long conversations with Rorali. The moments of reflection and healing with Bettany. Fighting and singing alongside Constantin. Learning new things and exploring with Thalassia... plus... the sweet tender morning and evening kisses with Yvan... All of it was fading to black..

Constantin's eyes flared with a sickly green glow, rage filling every ounce of his body. His opportunity, his chance at revenge... His friend. Dying. With a series of rapid hand gestures, Constantin channeled a healing spell, directing it at Tyyran. One that would bring him back from death. Sterling ripped a scroll from his jacket and yelled a word of power. The scroll glowed and incinerated itself, as Constantin's magic fizzled. The bastard had brought a Scroll of Counterspell. As he watched Tyyran bleed out, incapable of conjuring more than one healing spell due to his dark pact, he screamed with rage, turning and hurling the glaive across the table. The Cowboy ducked as the polearm went to impale him. Constantin stepped to Tyyran, attempting without any success to conjure more healing magic. He was a Paladin no more, and that was the price. "He will pay." Constantin swore, as he spoke to Tyyran, kneeling by him in his final moments. "Be at peace." He mumbled, before disappearing in a coal-black cloud.

Sterling was on the run. Bursting through the dining hall archway, spurs jingling with every pounding footstep. Every turn, a look thrown over his shoulder, waiting for the big man to catch him. He turned back to face the direction he was running, just to nearly run into the Warlock as he appeared from a cloud of shadow, reaching out with a spikey, gloved hand, a grab for the throat. The short man ducked under it and kept going, drawing his pistol again and firing six shots at the Barovian, all of which ricocheted off of his heavy armor. The man tore off after the assassin, footfalls cracking the marble floor as he raged after the murderer. He had done it. He had laid low the tyrant that put the entire Sword Coast at risk with his charisma, control and power-hungry madness... But now he was probably going to pay with his life.

 He burst through into the campus courtyard, blowing past a handful of panicked guards and students as he raced for the bridge. On the other end, a Half-elven woman with striking red hair held a portal open, gesturing panickedly for Sterling to hurry as the Barovian behemoth came bearing down on him. When he reached the end of the bridge, he stopped. He grabbed the woman by the shoulders, saying something inaudible. They shared a look, a kiss, and then the woman was shoved through the portal, the rift closing behind her. The night was falling on Ayrenza, the academy under attack, their new lord and master staining the tiles of the dinner room with his lifeblood. Constantin came to a stop at the far end of the bridge, staring the cowboy down as he looked away from the college, towards the direction of the now-closed portal. 

The sun hung low in the sky, the western sky ablaze with the warm palette of a summer sunset, hues from orange to purple struck across the clouds and open air, a painting worthy of the gods of art. Sterling did not yet face his enemy, who roared furiously. "YOU TOOK MY ONLY CHANCE!" He raged. "MY ARMY. GONE! MY FRIEND! DEAD! WHAT DID YOU SEEK TO GAIN FROM THIS?" The Barovian screamed, taking another earth-shaking step forward, hands crackling with green flame. "Tyranny cannot stand, big man. You woulda' said the same, all those years ago. Before that poison or wha'ever got to yer' mind. I remember yer' friends, how hard they fought to save you, they would not have wanted thi-" 

Sterling was cut off by a shockwave of anger rippling from Constantin's position. DO NOT SPEAK OF THEM!" He howled. "I challenge you. Death. Here and now." Sterling spat on the ground. "Fine, that's how you want it, Vasiliev? That's the way it'll be." Sterling turned to face Constantin, his hand hovering over the pearl-handled revolver in his right-hip holster. A crackling of energy formed violently in Constantin's right hand, as they stared each other down. The sun dipped lower in the sky. Overhead, a raven's wing-beats broke the silence, with a loud caw. The tension built, built, built... To a palpable level. Neither man moved, until suddenly the silence was again broken by the screech of an angry, desperate Eldritch Blast...

 And the sure-fire crack of a Deadeye's gun.

Fin.

[vaulttrust]

Flail snail 5e

The Invisible Stalker is CR 6, which would be invalid, but the spell can be upcast to increase the CR range, so if the spell is cast with a 6th level spell slot or higher, the Invisible Stalker then becomes a valid choice too.Īt Higher Levels. įirstly, the Flail Snail is CR 3 so it is a valid choice for this spell. An elemental of challenge rating 5 or lower appropriate to the area you chose appears. The base price is 4,000 gp, doubled for an unblemished shell.Flail Snail and Invisible Stalker are both valid choices for conjure elementalĬhoose an area of air, earth, fire, or water that fills a 10-foot cube within range. The value of the snail’s shell depends on the shell quality. These tritons fight to the death in defense of the sea snail. Each round thereafter 1d10 more tritons arrive until a total of 50 are on the scene. The round following the wail, 1d10 charmed tritons arrive. If the attack continues, the sea snail will wail. This poison affects all creatures within 20 feet, paralyzing them for 1d6 hours unless they roll successful saving throws vs. If attacked, sea snails withdraw into their shell and release a vicious neurotoxin into the surrounding water. Giant snails are sometimes tamed by tritons. Their shells vary in color from bright red to flat white with a pink interior. Their skins are rubbery (AC 6), but their shells are incredibly thick (AC -4). These behemoths of the deep measure up to 20 feet in length. Shells sell for 5,000 gold pieces on the open market. One robe may be made from a single shell. In addition, freshly ground snail shell is needed to create a robe of scintillating colors. After the magic fades, the shields become nonmagical +2 shields. These shields affect spells as did the original shell until their magic fades (1d6 months). A skilled armorer can try to fashion 1-2 +2 shields from a single shell. A single shell weighs 250 to 300 pounds and retains its magical powers for 1d6 months after the occupant’s death. These peaceful beasts are frequently hunted for their shells. Flail snails mature at age four and live up to 20 years. The young remain with the mother for two years, until their tentacle knobs reach a weight of five pounds. The mouth then scrapes up the loosened plants.įemales give live birth to 1d3 young. Glands in their mouth secrete a substance that loosens the plants. Normally quiet, flail snails aggressively defend themselves, chasing attackers until they withdraw from the snail’s 20-foot, sensing range.Įcology: Flail snails live off lichen and algae growing on dungeon floors. Habitat/Society: Flail snails live peaceful lives crawling up and down dungeon and cavern corridors. The altered spell then affects the creature nearest the snail (saving throw if applicable).įlail snails are immune to fire and poison, but they shun bright light. A spell that malfunctions has its effect altered slightly (DM discretion). Whenever the snail is attacked by magic, the effects are variable - 40% chance of the spell malfunctioning, 30% chance of it functioning normally, 20% chance of it failing to work at all, and a 10% chance that the spell is reflected back at the spellcaster. The effective Armor Class of the body is -8.įlail snails are protected against magic by their colorful shell. The body has hit points equal to the combined total of all the tentacles, but it is nearly impossible to attack because it is protected by the creature’s shell. During these turns the snail utters pitiful cries that are 50% likely per turn to attract a wandering monster. Once this happens the monster withdraws into its shell and dies 1d3 turns later. Flail snails attack until all of their tentacles are dead. When a tentacle is reduced to 0 hit points it is useless. Treat each tentacle as a separate creature. Both opponents must be in front of or to the side of the snail.įlail snail tentacles have 1 Hit Die apiece. These attacks may be against one or two opponents. A four-tentacled snail makes four attacks as a 4 Hit Die creature, a three-tentacled snail makes three attacks as a 3 Hit Die creature, and so on. Their flesh is rubbery and gray-blue in color.Ĭombat: A hit by a single tentacle causes 1d8 points of damage and can smash a one-inch-thick piece of wood. These sensors detect motion up to 20 feet away. Short sensor tentacles grow from either side of the head. Each tentacle ends in a ten-pound mass of hardened flesh covered with knobs. Flail snails get their name from the four to six club-like tentacles that grow from their heads. Their shells average eight feet high at the crown and are masses of neon blues, reds, greens, and yellows. Flail snails are silicon-based gastropods distantly related to ordinary garden snails.

[justdesertbeats]

Just sticky note doodles

[sixeyesgojo]

Pictures of You

Summary: prequel to I’ll Be Your Enemy - fluffy!

Characters: IBYE!Reader, Gojo, Yuji, Megumi, Nobara

Word count: 2,3k

Content warning: none

A/N: requested by @thecaptainsbride

If anybody got the reference Gojo made when he was late; congratulations, you have been successfully hurt (but this time it was not me).

Since I left the relationship between Gojo and the reader up for interpretation in IBYE, I will do the same here! Consider this piece me trying to mend your hearts <3

Taglist applications open for anyone who is interested!

“A trip to an amusement park or something like that doesn’t sound so bad,” you mused in front of Satoru. “It serves as relaxation and maybe the first-years can get closer to each other, you know, bonding and so on. They will see each other many times from now on, so getting along with each other is important,” you reasoned, your eyes almost sparkling from the thought of a day off.

“But Jujutsu Sorcery is an individual–” he began.

“Satoru, I think you should see this as vacation. A vacation where you can eat sweets until your teeth rot and absolutely nobody will hold you back,” you interrupted him.

“Okay, I am sold. Am listening now.” You just knew how to convince him. Sweets.

So that was exactly how the first-year students and you ended up at a fairground somewhere in Tokyo; it was quite neat, not too small but not too spacious either. None of you could get lost in it. Still, it was buzzing with life and all kinds of people mingled. The colorfulness was a refreshing sight to take in, compared to the dark world of Jujutsu Sorcery where seeing people suffer was your daily routine. The pleasant smell of food wafted through the air, making your mouth water, as you walked past the different booths with them. Waffles sounded like absolute heaven on earth right now.

Jujutsu Sorcery certainly was a draining sport, mentally as well as physically. Therefore it was only right to take a break at times, right? Self-care days were just as important as working.

In order to wind down a bit, you had suggested a one-day trip – just you, Satoru and the three first-year students you had adopted in your mind right away after meeting them several times.

“Sensei, you look very pretty today!” Yuji complimented you. Even Megumi noticed: “Did you have a haircut? Your hair seems a little bit shorter.”

“Yeah, Nobara had a field day with me. Cutting my hair.. or more like trimming the ends, choosing my outfit, doing my make-up and so on just for today,” you gushed as if you were a high school girl again. “Leave it to master stylist Kugisaki Nobara and nobody will ever look bad,” the brunette girl commended herself. Yuji was affectionately patting her on the back.

Undoubtedly, Satoru was late – nobody was surprised about that. You already went ahead and generously treated the trio of students you loved dearly to some food.

“Thank you for the food, sensei!” As usual, Yuji and Nobara were in perfect harmony with each other, seemingly sharing a brain.

“Thank you very much,” Megumi also expressed his thanks sweetly. If you hadn’t known better, you would have thought the way his lips seemed to twitch was unintentional. “Absolutely no problem, kiddos. You guys enjoy it while I try to contact Gojo-sensei, yeah?” you shot them an apologetic smile, already fishing out your phone. The three of them nodded in perfect synchronization. They’re as cute as little ducklings, you thought.

You didn’t even need to bother calling.

You were about to dial Satoru’s number on your smartphone when Yuji’s voice boomed, “Oh! There he is! Gojo-sensei, we are here!!”

The boy waved at his teacher.

Satoru immediately spotted the pink-haired student and skipped over to where you all were standing. “Sorry for the wait! I’m afraid I got lost on the path of life!!”

“Nice of you to finally join us, but sadly, the fun is already over and we decided to go home. Just wanted to call you to let you know! We’ve been here since morning,” you deadpanned as the white-haired man arrived, looking Satoru dead in the eye – if they weren’t covered. “Wait, wha– Hold on, I am very sure I am not that late. MY MOCHI?” Satoru sounded frantic, facing his students who just shrugged their shoulders. “Serves you right,” Megumi stated calmly. Nobara, being the sassy girl she was, also joined in, “Losers don’t get to have fun and that’s a fact.”

It was such a wholesome and funny moment for you to see the students playing along with your prank without being told beforehand.

You broke out in laughter, not being able to contain it any longer, “You should have seen your face, dumbass! I was just joking!”

“Phew, I almost thought I had to kiss the idea of eating sweets today goodbye. What a horror that would be, my day would be OVER this instant,” the blindfolded man pouted, “so where should I buy my sweets? I’m gonna buy the entire place anyway, but where do I start? Any suggestions for Great Teacher Gojo?”

“Hold up, Satoru! We gotta take a picture together to commemorate this special day!” you suggested, bouncing up and down with enthusiasm. “I swear I just saw sensei’s eyes sparkle but I might be wrong,” Yuji remarked, looking at his dark-haired friend for confirmation.

“Sensei, if you want to take a picture, we have to take it at the right angle!” Nobara chimed in, the secret Instagram influencer in her on full display. She continued to explain, “It would come out great if Gojo-sensei took the pic, long arms privilege and so on.”

The female student almost seemed more into it than you were, it was adorable to you to see the usually bold student be this into taking pictures.

You hand the tall man your phone, but not without shooting him a “if you drop my phone, I’ll make you drop dead” look.

“Okay, ladies, now let’s get in formation,” the male teacher commanded loudly. Upon hearing that, Megumi immediately slapped his hand in his face and turned away in embarrassment. Why was this man like this?

“...Ladies?” Yuji asked, the expression on his face screaming ‘confusion’ “Gojo-sensei just referenced a Beyoncé song, Itadori,” the dark-haired boy explained in a hushed tone, turning back slightly as if he did not want to get caught.

“And it’s not just any song!” Satoru happily chimed in. “Yes, yes, the good old Formation,” you added, nodding in satisfaction. You remember how you showed him the album when it dropped.

“Can we all just ignore Gojo-sensei and take our pic?” Nobara inquired as she shoved everybody into their respective spots. “Alright, everybody, smiiiiile for the camera. Say cheese!”

Click, click, click, click.

Finally, Satoru had gotten his share of sweets. Complying with his sweet tooth was always an effective way to calm him for some time. Almost like feeding a baby, in a way.

Now it was time for fun rides!

...or at least that was what you thought… until Satoru dragged you along to ride a freaking pendulum ride with him. The three students had managed to talk themselves out of stepping foot on that monster of a ride but Satoru didn’t even give you a chance to refuse, he simply gripped your arm and walked towards it.

Stopping only when you were already standing in line, you nervously eyed the metallic behemoth with its iron arm. The monstrosity was seemingly ready to make you throw up from the way it would spin you through the air repeatedly, going back and forth and back and forth again. Why did you have to do this?

“Satoru,” you called his name timidly and tugged at his sleeve, the strange feeling not leaving your gut, “do I really, really have to do this?”

“Absolutely! I promise it will be very fun,” Satoru replied with a signature grin you wanted to wipe off of his face at that moment.

No, it was not fun. At all. You were dizzy and your fear of height was kicking. The blasts of air hitting your face left, right and center were not helping at all and you were sure, if anybody took a picture of you right now, you would look horribly green.

“I– can’t do this anymore!” you shouted mid-air, right before the ride swung to the other side. The force knocked the air out of you once again.

“SATORU, PLEASE GET US OUT OF HERE!” you begged and squeezed his arm with an iron grip. The height was too overwhelming. “Mid-ride?” Satoru asked and you nodded frantically. “Now that’s what I call reckless! Sounds like fun. I’m in!” he declared with a grin.

“Domain Expansion: Infinite Void.”

That was the last thing you heard the tall man say before he touched your head with his large palm.

Your eyes widened in horror as you realized this man used his domain this recklessly, for fun. Maybe it was a side effect of being able to use it multiple times a day.

The infinity gently wrapped itself around Satoru and you. Almost movie-like, you watched as the entire, vast universe beautifully unfolded in front of your eyes. Each star being created separately, then abruptly flashing by as a sea of stars – as if you were in a wormhole. You perceived the entire domain within a flash of a moment, yet tasted eternity in it. Everything but nothing at once.

Despite being touched by Satoru himself, the sensations weren’t without merit. If this was how it felt to be in the safe space of Satoru’s touch within his inner world of Limitless, you would rather not fathom how it felt to be the one hit by this powerful domain.

It took you some time to process things and recollect.

“When I said I wanted you to get the two of us out of that thing, I didn’t mean ‘send me to your domain’,” you scolded him.

“Well, it was convenient,” he defended himself and you could almost hear the grin on his face, “Bet you’ll hate me after this though.”

“Hating you was never really an option I’d ever consider but okay, we’ll run with it this time. Now undo your domain, please, while I am asking nicely.”

“Your wish is my command! This time at least.”

“Satoru.” A stern last warning fell from your lips.

“Yes, yes, boss. On it.”

“I thought you said it’ll be fun but I am absolutely not riding that thing ever again,” you took deep breaths to calm down as your feet securely touched the ground again. Your legs were still trembling a bit.

“And it was fun! At least for me! I like seeing you struggle – it’s so funny – and the way you clung to my arm? Adorable! You are so tiny compared to me, like a bug I could crush between my fingers!” The annoying sorcerer laughed merrily.

“Gojo fucking Satoru, the only thing that is about to be crushed here are your balls. With my leg. You are very lucky to have that damn Infinity of yours or else,” you threatened.

“Ouch, you really do know how to hurt an invincible man,” he snickered and flicked your forehead lightly.

Rejoining with the students was easy as they all saw the barrier Satoru’s domain created.

“You are lucky there was some kind of show going on down here. That barrier above would have freaked people out if they weren’t distracted,” Nobara said, looks shooting daggers at her weird teacher. Innocent and as nice as ever, Yuji pitched in as well: “Yeah, Fushiguro also tried to distract children with their wandering eyes! I think he did a good job.”

“Okay but what did he do though?” you asked curiously and looked at the boy in question.

“...Shadow puppets,” Megumi slowly admitted, looking anywhere but at the people in front of him.

“Oh? You love your foster-dad-turned-great-teacher this much to embarrass yourself out in public? That’s new!” Satoru teased the poor boy. “Someone has to be the voice of reason around here or you’d all be in jail. That includes preventing civilians who are able to see curses from seeing you use Jujutsu while floating mid-air,” he justified, ignoring the tall teacher’s mockery completely. 

“As much as I love slandering Gojo-sensei, I’d rather spend my day actually having fun,” Nobara pitched in, reminding everybody of why you were here in the first place.

“So, let’s go ride the ferris wheel!” she added excitedly.

More fun rides.

Before you knew it, the day passed by. You could already feel the heaviness in your legs from walking. The swirling feeling from all the rides boded in your chest – you probably would not be able to sleep well tonight. It was definitely worth it though, you thought.

You had already brought the students back to their dorm – Satoru had ran off to the school because he remembered he had to do something – and were on the way home yourself.

You were in some sort of trance, completely immersed in your phone, so you hadn’t registered when Satoru called your name until he gently tapped your shoulder, falling into step with you.

“Yeah?” you looked up to Satoru, snapping out of your train of thought.

“Just wanted to tell you; ‘Operation: Relaxation Day’ was a great success.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Satoru.” A genuine smile graced your lips and for a moment, he softened at the sight.

“You know what? It was amazing, I really should start listening to you more often,” he confessed with a smirk.

“Well, it’s thanks to your amazing power of persuasion that we got to spend it like this, so thanks for today,” you half-heartedly complimented him.

“You do know I only said we’d not be available today and then dashed, right?” he asked you, the usual playful tone lacing his voice. “Exactly what I meant by saying ‘your amazing power of persuasion’.”

“I think I’ll frame the picture we took,” you murmured softly, fondly looking at the screen of your phone. The picture from earlier was displayed on your homescreen.

Surely, you would hang it on the blank wall in your home as well. It was a personal treasure now.

Taglist (dm me if you wanna be added): @assbuttbaek​ @megumifushi​ @bleueluna​ @gojos-mochi​ @delammi

[miss-tc-nova]

Crazy Things - Bragi x OC

My first ever commission! Whooo! 

Thank you to @aiden-bevelle for giving me back some of the love I’ve been struggling with for Bragi. I honestly wasn’t sure how I was gonna feel about this but...maybe I kind of love him again. Also, Aiden if freaking adorable and I can’t wait to work with him more!

Premise: Bragi is stuck on a mission with Aiden and has a choice on which secret he’s has to give up. 

~~~~~

              Of course it would be Aiden.

              Another sigh escapes the lips of Smarmy Fluffcoat.

              “You alright?” Those mezmerizing eyes turn on him.

              Not exactly, but Bragi smiles anyway. “Yeah. No worries here.”

              Lies.

              Bragi’s been struggling for a long time with his feelings for his classmate. Since they met, Aiden’s been by his side, stealthily stealing away the focus on his mission—stealing Bragi’s heart. So to have this kid partnered with him during this stressful mission has the red-head on edge.

              Aiden snaps him from his lamentations. “Heartless!”

              From beneath their feet squirm shadows that give rise to a hoarde of dark creatures. The boys watch each other’s backs as they cut through, but the sea of black seems to never end.

              But just as quickly as it began, the shadows freeze. Seeing the living mass so still is more unnerving than their usual undulation. Then, without warning, they scatter.

              “They’re…running from us?” Aiden asks.

              Darkness and fear roll across his back. Sudden realization jolts through Bragi. “No. Not us.”

    ��         The young man whirls around to find a monster he hasn’t seen since another lifetime. It runs his blood cold. The collossus Darkside looms above the pair and a new fight begins—one they have no hope of winning. What school had taught them would never be enough to bring down this behemoth.

              Bragi’s heart skips. His partner stumbles, giving the Heartless the chance to take him. As pressure squeezes down on the blonde, Aiden lets out a scream.

              Panic skyrockets. “AIDEN!”

              The space before Bragi tears open. Keyblade magically charged, he bolts through the portal, coming out on the other side of the Darkside. His weapon slashes through the darkness, bringing attention to himself and allowing Aiden’s escape. Before the monster can strike back, another portal appears, this time sending Bragi to the side. The young man flies around the Heartless at blinding speed, never once missing his mark with all the energy he can muster funneled into every attack.

              In seconds, his shoes skid to a halt across the dirt. His chest heaves, his arms are dead weight, and he couldn’t take another step even if he wanted. Even so, light eats away at the darkness, seeping from Bragi’s attacks until it consumes the threat.

              Knees quiver, giving in; this body is still too new to be commanding that kind of power.

              And Aiden seems to know that. “What the hell was that?!”

              This isn’t good. Bragi’s mission would be heavily jeopardized if anyone knew. He could’ve just let Aiden die. No. That was never an option. He would have done anything to save Aiden, even if it meant exposing himself. Still, he’s not ready to confess who he really is.

              But maybe he can confess something else.

              “Ah, well, people do crazy things…when they’re…in…love…”

              “What do you—”

              Aiden’s confusion flashes to shock. A tinge of pink slowly bleeds across his nose. Watching the epiphany is so damn adorable, Bragi can’t help but chuckle.

              Aiden’s voice is soft, as if he might ruin a dream. “Did you say ‘love?’”

              A corner of Bragi’s lips turns up. “I might have.”

              Aiden unexpectedly lunges. Bragi hits the ground, the weight of his cherished classmate pressed to his chest. Soft, warm lips demand his attention, full of longing and what tastes like relief. The sheer ardor shocks the red-head, snaring his heart before sending it soaring. Bragi falls so hard that he wonders how he’d denied himself this for so long.

              Reluctantly, Aiden pulls away, but he smiles.

              And his words hit harder than any Heartless ever could.

              “I love you too.”

[heartvious]

Hiiiiii! Can I ask you 🦴 - Does your ship or F/O have any secret/“guilty pleasure” traditions? 🕷️ - What sort of activities do you plan if your ship or F/O stays home? 🦇 - What is your ship or F/Os favorite playlist or Halloween themed song? from the Halloween Emoji Themed Asks for Donna Beneviento and/or Pyramid Head please? ~ @avid-adoxography

hi avid! ill do both because i love them both :]]]  [ @avid-adoxography ]

pyramid head

🦴 - does your ship or f/o have any secret/“guilty pleasure” traditions?

looks at pyramid head’s entire thing

well, if i had any, he definitely would figure it out!

if i’m being honest here, i definitely wouldn’t admit it if i had any

but because we’re talking about pyramid head here, i’ll quote it from his pov :]

“Though I wouldn’t call it a tradition... they hide behind an air of superiority and haughtiness, but even the strong have something that can make them fall to their knees. In their case... it appears to be my body.”

TEEHEE TEHONK WELL UHHH

look my guilty pleasure may or may not be looking at pyramid head’s chest whenever he flexes his great knife

like literally anything above his upper waist i will GLADLY look at

🕷️ - what sort of activities do you plan if your ship or f/o stays home?

god damn, in a place like silent hill? what is there to do but stay home

nah i’m joking we’re talking about the very executioner of that hellhole itself, if anything i’m probably the safest person there is

also, pyramid head rarely stays what we made a ‘home’, if he ever does at all

he has a job to rid the streets of sinners that plague it after all

but the days he does stay home with me though, i think both of us cherish

pyramid head first spends the early mornings getting himself cleaned of grime and blood while i’m still asleep so he can slip into the bed with me and cradle me to his chest

later when it bleeds near 11 am, i wake up and he’ll get off the bed and prepare something to eat that he got the night before

while he does it i take a bath

when i sit down at the table is when we usually start talking to each other about what we could plan for the day

depending on the weather though, definitely. if it’s too heaviily ‘snowing’ outside it’s definitely a stay in day

if it’s a clear day, we go out together

he stays by my side 24/7 to make sure no church members try anything to me and to make sure no silent hill monsters are there following me too

we go ‘grocery shopping’, which is just me going into stores that magically restock their items every siren cycle and putting things in a bag then leaving because nobody works in silent hill

then i’d usually stay in the park while the siren roars overhead to watch the scenery rot away with pyramid head by my side

while it rots, we go home together and spend the rest of the day inside

usually doing chores or cuddling and watching the somehow-still-on tv

or. y’know.

other stuff.

🦇 - what is your ship or f/os favorite playlist or halloween themed song?

pyramid head doesn’t really know music outside of what silent hill provides him

plus before my arrival he didn’t listen to anything at all save for church choirs or some form of foreign language that i’m pretty sure is something demons or ‘godly figures’ chant

luckily i’m here to show him cringe songs /j

his favourite halloween themed song is actually ‘this is halloween’ from nightmare before christmas

whenever i play the movie he’ll tap his fingers on his knees or a surface to the rhythm

sometimes if he’s feeling a bit happier he’d nod his head to the beat

it’s goofy as hell seeing this 8 ft something behemoth enjoying a song like this is halloween but it’s a good song and he’s happy, so i’m happy too

donna beneviento

🦴 - does your ship or f/o have any secret/“guilty pleasure” traditions?

i secretly cuddle with angie when donna is making dolls

I GET LONELY OKAY

donna is so good at doll making but for that i can’t bother her too much because details are everything to her and i don’t wanna mess it up even though she says it’s okay if i visit

so i cuddle with angie in our bed

angie teases the hell out of me for it

calling me “loverboy” a lot

donna’s secret pleasure is actually making fragile dolls based on my snowflake patterns

i love creating snowflakes that don’t melt in the past time and donna sometimes collects them and makes doll patterns based off of them

she gets flustered whenever she shows me yet another beautiful ball jointed doll that has the snowflake’s pattern on it

i always kiss her softly and tell her it’s beautiful, just like she is

🕷️ - what sort of activities do you plan if your ship or f/o stays home?

wdym we always stay home /hj

no but honestly, unless mother miranda calls for the houses to come over for a meeting, donna and i never leave her mansion

we spend the day cuddling for a majority of the morning

my head buried in her arms and angie tucked between us

i’m the earlier riser than donna is and would go down to go make breakfast for us

sadly i can’t really touch hot things or else my fingertips could melt

so i make stuff that doesn’t need fire

like fruit bowls or smoothies and such

i appreciate it whenever donna makes stuff that requires fire though

pancakes, waffles, etc.

after eating, we’d spend time doing some personal things

donna dollmaking, me tending to the gardens

angie

doing whatever it is angie does

then once we finish our personal activities, we spend the rest of the day together!

we like knitting things for dolls

sure we can use a sewing machine but sometimes knitted and yarn material stuff is cute too

🦇 - what is your ship or f/os favorite playlist or halloween themed song?

we don’t quite have ‘modern songs’ here due to us being in some remote island in romania

so donna and i usually just listen to waltz music through record players

if it’s not that, we play music ourselves

i play the piano and donna would play the violin

and sometimes we’d sing together, too!

with so much isolation in the beneviento mansion there isn’t much to do outside

so we have plenty of time to make up songs together, for each other, and even make up lyrics

[quillandink333]

Courage

BotW Link X Zelda ~ Vampire!Link AU

Rating: M

Word Count: 3.2k

WARNINGS: blood and gore, near-death experiences, nudity

Summary: In defiance of his creator, Link risks his life over and over as he fights to protect Zelda’s, but then watches his world crumble as she does the same for him.

Masterlist

“Highness!”

An electric arrow flew at her from above. I deflected it in the nick of time, skidding against the rainforest’s damp soil.

The scaly eyes of the monster who’d fired lased into me, just like those of all the rest as they emerged and made themselves known. I hissed, outwitted. We were surrounded, having just walked into the clearing before the Spring of Courage, but we hadn’t been expecting company. And now, there was nowhere to take cover.

One of the unholy creatures leapt out at us from behind. We would’ve been done for if I hadn’t heard its approach in time. I drew my blade and dealt with it swiftly, but this battle was far from won.

The lizalfi were cunning, more so than they appeared. They’d blended in with their surroundings, only revealing themselves when we’d walked straight into the heart of their trap. They were nine, ten...twelve in number, half of them foot soldiers and the rest archers.

“Link...?”

“It’s alright,” I asserted, though I had to admit the validity of my statement was questionable at best. “Just stay close.”

My sword and shield clattered as they hit the ground. “Wait,” she stammered, “what are you—?”

I crouched down and closed my eyes. The image of my enemy’s blackening corpse strewn across the ground beneath me devoured my thoughts and claimed my focus.

Soon enough, my arms turned thin and leathery, my legs melted away, and the corners of my vision were blurred and bloody.

With my new wings, I soared high above the stone pillar.

The monster at its vertex jerked its head up.

I dove down. My body changed shape, and I landed feet-first on top of my victim, causing it to plummet to its doom.

I leapt to the ground, retrieving the sword and finishing it off with one final blow.

“Link—ahh!”

I turned. Time froze when I saw the princess backed up against a tree with two lizalfi closing in on her.

One grabbed her wrist between its claws. My throat clenched in anger.

Thinking quickly, I picked up the bow of the fallen archer and shot an electric arrow right into the nape of her attacker’s neck. It spasmed a few times, letting go of her before collapsing to the ground at her feet, dead.

The other turned its head. In response, I shot a second arrow through its eye socket and into its skull.

But when I reached for another arrow, my hand was seized, and I was pinned to the ground.

The princess screamed out my name as I wrestled with the enemy, but it had me immobilized. I could hear the pitter-patter of the others’ footsteps fast approaching, and saw countless shock arrows wizzing overhead. No matter how hard I struggled, I couldn’t get the damned thing off me.

So I closed my eyes again.

The creature that had been holding me down squawked in confusion. I fluttered out of its grasp with ease. If I still had my face, I would’ve been smirking in triumph.

The archers were still firing away at me, but their aim was off by a mile as always. It was even harder to hit me now that I presented a much smaller and faster target.

Assessing the battle field, I counted three on foot and five ranged remaining. I spotted one try to pick up the sword, jumping back when its hand began to sizzle. I took this chance to shift back and reclaim my weapon.

It didn’t take me long from there to eliminate the three left on the ground. All the while, I was careful to keep Her Highness in my line of sight.

Until one of the archers shifted its aim from me to her.

I raced to her side at once. The arrow flew, and I blocked it with no more than half a second to spare.

Then one of them rushed at us, catching me off-guard.

I swung my sword out, and it leapt back.

I could’ve sworn I’d taken care of all the ones on foot. Could one of the archers have abandoned its post?

“Are you alright?”

The question caught me even more off-guard. “Yes, Princess,” I stuttered, trying to focus on fighting off my opponents. “Get to the spring.”

She nodded and made a break for the stone serpent’s mouth.

Then I heard a low grunt. Her footsteps halted.

Rising to its feet in front of her was none other than a towering, third-class moblin.

Another bolt just barely missed my ankle. It purged me of my paralysis, and I dodged it. I looked back just in time to see the brute raising its club above her.

“Zelda!”

She screamed and darted out of the way. I thanked Ganon for making these boorish behemoths as slow as they were.

“Keep running!” I ordered, blocking another lightning-fast attack. “Don’t look back!”

She was terrified. I heard it in the way she gasped for air as she fled. I should’ve known better than to give way to overconfidence. Now my grip was shaky, my movements frenzied, and I was starting to panic.

I advanced, but the spineless freak just kept leaping back miles out of reach. The three left with bows were still firing away at me. I shouted out in futile aggravation. I’d lost my shield some time ago while transforming, leaving my left side wide open. I could no longer see the princess, though I still heard her frantic footsteps, as well as her pursuer’s.

I had to get back up on my feet somehow, or else her blood truly would be on my hands this time.

I sprinted over to where a bow and quiver full of shock arrows were lying deserted. My opponent, after a moment of standing there in confusion, chased after me.

I turned and thrusted the tip of my blade through its open palm.

It screeched dramatically. This gave me an opening. I grasped it and slashed the creature’s throat open once and for all.

The loud rustling of palm leaves caught the attention of one of the archers.

Standing to the left of the spring’s entrance was the princess, frozen in fear. The black moblin was sluggishly approaching her from behind.

The lizalfos took aim. She gasped and turned around, but then came face-to-face with the pig-snouted giant.

Then she took even me by surprise and ducked between its legs.

The moblin stumbled. Then before it’d had the chance to recover, the archer let loose its arrow, which hit the beast right in its thigh. Lightning surged throughout its lanky form before it collapsed on its front.

I held my breath.

But it got back up again like nothing had happened. Of course that wouldn’t have been enough to kill it, as I had hoped. Soon, it turned back around and continued its dreaded hunt.

I’d missed my chance. “Damn it...” Now it was impossible for me to hit it with the projectiles at my feet, and I had the attention of all three archers back on me.

I picked up the bow and arrows and ran. There had to be some position that was ideal for shooting down the last of these fiends.

I maneuvered across the battlefield until all three of them were in view. They were farther away than I would’ve liked, but this would have to do. Besides, this way I was far enough that they wouldn’t be able to hit me with their inferior aim whilst I pierced their throats one after another.

Finally, the last one fell from its post and into the water below, vanquished.

“Ough!”

I spotted Her Highness, sprawled out on the staircase at the spring’s entrance. She must have tripped on her way down.

Time stopped, yet again, as the monster emerged from the shadows, poised to strike.

The defenceless princess didn’t so much as scream, merely watching her fate unfold in complete, mortal terror.

The beast swung its mace.

I nearly tripped myself as I leapt in front of her, parrying the death blow, but just barely.

The enemy staggered back. I charged forward.

My aim was true.

The blade cleaved clean through its torso, exiting out through its backside. Its thick, black ichor sprayed all over my arm when I took it out. The beast fell to the ancient pavement slowly and heavily, shaking the earth as it landed.

My chest was heaving violently. By the time I looked down, the gore staining the sword had already burned away. Arms shaking in exhaustion, I returned it to its sheath, wiping the sweat from my brow.

“Link...”

I swivelled when the princess’ frail voice called me. She hadn’t moved from her position on the steps, twisting at the waist to look up and face me. She seemed just as drained as I felt, if not more so. Other than that, though, she hadn’t sustained any serious injuries from what I could see. All she had were a few small scrapes and bruises here and there.

Then it hit me. The front of her white dress was sopping wet, and I’d been staring at her for well over a minute. I immediately averted my gaze, feeling a wave of embarrassment crawl beneath my skin.

“What?” she worried. “What’s the matter?”

Without looking, I cleared my throat suggestively. When that evidently hadn’t gotten the message across, I muttered, “You’re drenched.”

“Ah...” She looked down, noticing the exposed state she was in. “I just...fell into the spring a couple of times,” she blushed. “You don’t have to look away, though. I-I trust you.”

There was that phrase again. That utterly ridiculous phrase that she’d been using with me for the past month or so.

Taking a deep breath, I reached out my hand to help her to her feet.

The few drops of sacred spring water left on her palm hissed softly as they made contact with my skin. I winced. The pain was small, but excruciating.

“Oh my Goddess,” she gasped, loosening her grasp on my hand and poring over it. A few small cracks had formed in my palm, from which a few wisps of smoke had risen. “I’m so sorry,” she deliberated. “Are you alright? Do you need—”

“I’m fine, Your Highness,” I interrupted, gripping her fingers gently in demonstration. She looked up at me, uncertainty lingering in her expression, then back at my hand.

My own gaze landed on her wrist. Through the intricate metalwork of her wristband, an array of three puncture wounds, each secreting thin threads of dark red, could be seen. The memory of the monster’s filthy talons penetrating her precious, delicate skin flashed through my mind’s eye.

I cursed quietly. Once again, my infernal hate had taken hold of me and obstructed my ability to fulfill my sworn duty to her. I’d tried to fight it, but it was inescapable. I bit my lip, swallowing back a sigh. The worst part of it all was how I now found myself struggling to tear my eyes away from the blood seeping out of her wounds, further proving that I was no different from the monsters from which I was trying my hardest to protect her.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” she asked again, tone tender and brimming with warmth. I nodded; it was all I could bring myself to do.

It was not my place to listen in on her prayer. However it was difficult not to when she was such a short distance away. Tuning her out was quite the challenge, as soft-spoken as she tended to be during these rituals of hers. Besides, I couldn’t help but be intrigued.

The things she spoke to the Goddess about were shocking to me. I hadn’t the slightest clue about how formal or intimate one was expected to be when speaking with Her, but the princess seemed to have no qualms with confiding in Her just about anything. Once, during one of these pilgrimages, she’d even confessed to Her that I was in fact a day keese. It was likely that She’d already known this about me, but even so, if I’d ever been so obscenely foolhardy as to confess my betrayal of Lord Ganon to His own face, I would’ve been stricken down on the spot.

After a while, it became apparent to me that the princess had gone quiet. This was more than a little unsettling. I kept my back turned respectfully, but kept my ears trained just the same.

Splosh

My heart sank. I turned around, just in time to see her hand fall below the surface of the water.

I didn’t think twice before diving in after her.

The water penetrated my clothes the instant I stepped in. It went up to my knees. I couldn’t withhold my wail of blinding agony. My legs were like sandcastles, and the spring, a riptide.

It took every sliver of strength left in my body to reach the princess. By the time I had her safe in my arms, I could no longer feel my feet. There was no way I could get her back to dry land by carrying her. The one choice I had left was to hurl her unmoving form as far as I could and hope for the best. So, with a silent apology, that’s just what I did.

I was forced to crawl my way back to dry land; I no longer had the physical capacity to remain standing. To my immense relief, she was there on the concrete, safe and breathing.

Until now, I hadn’t had the chance to truly feel the searing pain consuming what remained of my body. My flesh was cracked and crumbling, and the water had soaked through each little crevice deep into my brittle constitution. If I wasn’t careful, my body would’ve lost any resemblance to a Hylian it had left.

When it had become strenuous to continue drawing breath, I realized I wasn’t long for this world. And yet, as I gazed upon the princess’ unmoving form whilst my surroundings faded to black, I smiled. At long last, I could bid farewell to this dastardly life of mine.

I awoke with a slight weight on my chest and a warm, bitter-sweet taste in my mouth. A series of coughs wracked my already broken body as the familiar liquid ran slowly down my throat. I opened my eyes.

“Link...?”

The face that greeted me was veiled in heavenly, golden light. I squinted. For a moment, I was certain I was looking straight into the eyes of an angel. Then my vision adjusted. Of course, I realized, no angel would ever shine half as brightly as she.

Her hand, planted firmly at the back of my head, encouraged it forward, until my lips sealed shakily around the weeping slit in her neck once again. As I drank obediently, I began wondering if she’d made the incision herself. Something about it felt sickeningly wrong. Even so, I was too numb, too fatigued, and too delirious to do anything about it.

I regained consciousness gradually, becoming more and more aware of our situation as she slid down my throat one swallow at a time. Her blood was like finely aged wine, pleasantly burning my insides as it went down. All the while, I could feel my body recovering its structure. The cracks and chips littering my skin dissolved one by one, and before long, my legs had pieced themselves back together. Now I could feel the cool mists of Faron, as well as the warmth of her bare flesh, clinging to my own.

It was around that time that I finally came to my senses. My tongue traced over the smooth edges of the lesion, making her tense up against me. I jerked back.

For the first time since waking, I was able to get a good look at her neck. The cut was fairly small, but the way it gaped and pulsed—staring back at me and perceiving each and every one of my innermost thoughts like the all-seeing eyes of our Father—forced me to look away. I could hear His petrifying voice even then.

I let my fearful gaze meander, coming across her and my clothes, which were still damp with spring water from the looks of it. Then my eyes landed on my sword, lying unsheathed on the pavement a few feet away. A corner of its blade was stained with crimson.

I shed a silent tear. “Why...?”

“‘Why?’” she rowed, teeth clenched, clearly in pain. “You wouldn’t have made it if I hadn’t done this! And yet...you’re still asking me why?”

I opened my mouth, but found myself speechless. No matter how much I wanted to just look her in the eyes and tell her everything that weighed on my mind, I couldn’t. What good would it do to resent her for this? It was already too late.

“How could you throw your life away like that?” she stabbed. “You knew your body couldn’t take it, surely.”

I risked another glance at her neck, watching as it gushed out rivers of blood with no sign of stopping. “I could ask the same of you.”

“Because I love you, Link!”

My eyes widened. I looked up at her, desperately clinging to the possibility that this was some kind of joke. “What...?”

“I love you.”

So I had heard her correctly. “No...” I muttered, gently shaking my head. “N-no, take it back.” My fingers clamped around her arm. “Please...”

“But it’s true,” she cried, voice breaking. “I think about you every moment I live and breathe, and I can’t bare the thought of losing you.” Her tone made it clear that this was no joke. “I would rather die.”

I’d thought I had felt the most pain I ever would’ve felt when I’d thrown myself into the spring moments ago. But the crushing anguish brought on by those words was so unfathomable that I never could’ve imagined it until now.

“Link...” She cupped my cheeks in her delicate palms. The way she looked at me, eyes glistening behind a watery film and voice barely above a whisper, was just another twist of the knife. “Why won’t you say anything?”

I choked, giving way to an unstoppable wave of tears and hysterical sobbing. “Because,” I whimpered pathetically, “I don’t deserve...‘love.’” I was crying into my hands as she lay across my bare front, shaking almost imperceptibly. “H-how could—how could someone such as I ever love you back...?”

As she began weeping freely into my shoulder, I felt another even greater surge of tears swell up and out of me. All I ever did was hurt her. It was made worse when I thought about how, even if I hadn’t been born the demon that I was, I still wouldn’t have had the chance to be with her. In the end, Lord Ganon would kill us all either way. Why had I even been created in the first place? What was the point in letting me learn what happiness was before forcefully tearing it out of my grasp?

I clutched onto her with all my might for no reason other than that she was there. She held me tighter.

[hrodvitnon]

Abraxas Finale Preview

Oh... wow, the feeling from writing that down... it’s really happening...

Manda is eager to leave for home; too much excitement, too noisy and scary; and Monster X would like nothing more than to leave this place behind, but the deaths of Thor and San-Who-Could-Have-Been stays their feet.  It almost doesn't seem real.  Memories come flooding back to them — from her, the post-MUTO ruins of San Francisco; from him, countless civilizations ground down to dust and scattered into the wind.  The silence doesn't bother him, but what does is the fact that Thor, someone he knew, is gone.  Even if Thor would never forgive his past crimes, he was still a teacher, and the San half doesn't know how to cope with the loss.  The Vivienne half wonders if they could have gotten through to the left head sooner, if he'd been separated from those hateful brothers and come into their care, what kind of differences he'd have to distinguish him from her San.  Manda nibbles at a silvery mandible to get their attention.

Sorry.  A lot has happened.  Can I ask for a little more patience?

Manda harrumphs and settles with clambering up the length of their body to settle himself on their shoulders, so as to ensure his fused mother and uncle don't vanish on him again.

Berezniki's remains are strangely beautiful, steam still rising up from the grounds turned molten glass after the sheer thermonuclear heat from Godzilla and Mothra's finishing blast.  It might be a very long time before anyone can safely set foot here; Monster X can smell the radiation and see how the heat distorts the air to create mirages.  That, coupled with daybreak's light reflecting off the glassed earth colors the steam and mirages in rainbow mist, gives the destruction a certain entrancing quality.

The Titans are each resting or tending to their injuries; Monster X keeps their distance from the MUTO Queen (she had no part in Janjira, but the half that's still Vivienne still recalls the casualties from that night).  They find themselves drawn to Methuselah, whose movements are slow with either exhaustion or contemplation, it's hard to tell with his cloudy eyes.  He sifts his nose through the rubble that hasn't been burned away, digs his claws in search of something.  Eventually he finds what he'd been looking for.

Thor's broken mask.

There's a dull stab of pain in Monster X's chest.  They — she begins to wonder, would he still be alive if they hadn't been captured by Elder Brother?  If they'd been smarter, or faster?  If they hadn't spent so much time feasting on Ghidorah's insides and focused more on getting out?  But, the San half reasons, they might not have been as strong if they hadn't eaten, and Ghidorah would have escaped if they weren't consuming its meat from the inside-out.  Consume the enemy's flesh to claim the enemy's strength.

Without thinking they approach Methuselah, only stopping when he kicks up dirt in a warning swipe of his claws.  Right; she remembers Mark telling her about what giant anteaters can do with their claws, and Monster X backs off to avoid getting punched through their throat, makes a mental note to exhibit similar caution if they ever run into Behemoth.  Manda just hisses in response and lifts his tail, in the small animal way of back-sassing a predator for daring to snap at his parent.  Methuselah's nostrils flare and snort as he takes in the dark Titan's scent.

Take care you do not approach from the blind side.  His 'voice' is a low and cthonic, graveyard-like rattle.  Right.  He probably either can't see very well.  I smell you on the mask.  Did you know the Thunderer?

Yes.

In the Old Times, you rarely ever saw a red Thunderer.  He was easy to spot even with my eyes, not like the others who blended in with the mountains.  Have to be tough and clever when your own colors work against you.

Delicately, Monster X reaches out to trace a claw along the stone mask.  Do you know why he wore a mask?

Not just him — it was their way. Who can say why?  Perhaps to be more like the People or to appear fearsome, but it was not my business to know.  Now that secret has gone with him.  Why do you wear a mask?

I'm not...?

Monster X looks at him questioningly, and makes their way towards the glassed earth; for the first time they can see their new face.  Even without the natural distortions of the reflection, it's a frightening visage — the expressionless skull face with two heterochromic eyes peering out from large eye sockets, as if they'd taken a hollowed out skull and worn it like a helmet.  With a few curious tugs they find it's stuck tight to their skin, an exoskeletal layer of armor no different from the rest of their body.  No wonder Ghidorah called them Executioner.  They look like a demon, or the Titan equivalent of the Grim Reaper.

Manda on the other hand is ever so puzzled as to why there's another him and another mama-uncle in the glass.

It's not a mask, they tell Methuselah.  This is my face.

Your face is death.  For a thing like the Enemy to see it is to die.

Better than being called ugly.

[multifandumbmeg]

Knightmare and Darach 12.2

Snippet #2 from the behemoth chapter as I write it. No trigger warnings for this bit:

Day 10

The army had fought two more battles and retreated further inward with even sharper losses. No couriers survived, so a young and inexperienced soldier was dispatched back to the capitol to inform Queen Ajak of their dire situation with the message from Thena that their forces were woefully inadequate. They had heard back not long after that a voluntary army had been initiated, with several thousand citizens answering the call. Untrained, they would be nothing but cannon fodder, distraction if they were lucky.

Upon their last battle, several soldiers had lugged one of the Deviant monsters back to their makeshift camp for Druig to study. He was consumed with research by Andgeir’s side, but they were despairingly vacant of research materials and the rare books that might hold answers were under lock and key at far-flung libraries with no one brave enough to deliver the goods.

“Best I can see, they’re animated, perhaps some kind of fiendish bastardization utilizing actual animals,” Druig mused, exasperated.

“Fine. We don’t know what they are or how they’re made. But we know fire kills them, as does stabbing them at vital points, and you believe they are, in fact, sentient. So,” Andgeir slammed the useless tome he’d scoured countless times, “Can you control them?”

Druig groaned and pinched his nose to staunch a persistent headache.  

“I don’t know. They’re sentient-ish. It seems they have similar awareness to an animal without the instinctual need to kill for food, rather they just kill regardless.”

“Tell me about your experience controlling animals. How much have you succeeded in that?”

Druig sighed heavily. “Made some feral strays into pets? Controlled a cow to let me milk it once? Or rather, to let me try, then I gave up and made its owner do it for me.”

Andgeir’s eyes narrowed. “So you can do it?”

“Maybe!” Druig exclaimed. “If you’re willing to put a force of soldiers behind me to corner one long enough for me to try. And no guarantees it works at all, let alone the first time.”

“That works for me.” Andgeir replied coolly. “I’ll let Thena know.”  

“Why do you suddenly have so much trust and faith in me? Where the hell did that come from?”

Andgeir gave him a long, hard look.

“Druig, it’s no secret that I don’t like you. I hate your arrogant attitude and I didn’t trust you. When I found you, we had to tear you away from an entire town you were holding hostage. You were a child of immense power with a faulty moral compass and that made you a significant threat. But we’re at war now, and we’re in dire straits. We don’t have the luxury of moral superiority or doubt anymore. There is simply nothing else I can do. People’s lives are at stake, and you have the power to help. It is all I can do to believe you can and will rise to the occasion. I will not condemn innocent lives for my personal disdain. Besides, I’ve kept a close eye on you since you came to the castle. I’ve seen you with that knight, and I’ve heard from the experiences of others how you’ve changed in that time. Perhaps my initial assessment was inaccurate. Somewhere in there, it seems you care quite a lot. If my previous second in command were here, she’d tell me ‘the ability to love is in everyone. Those who take the opportunity are fundamentally changed’. ”

“Who was she?” Druig found himself asking softly.

“My wife. Takeira. She was exceptionally gifted, like you. The epidemic a couple years ago took her, the same one that took Sprite’s parents. That reminds me, I hear congratulations are in order.” Andgeir looked at Druig knowingly, momentary anguish in his expression quickly buried.

“I’m sorry to hear that. And- well, it’s complicated. I didn’t really plan for the news to be so public.”

“Unfortunate timing. But I'm sure you’ll both pull through. Don’t you have a meeting with Thena about now?” Andgeir added suddenly.

“Shit,” Druig was out the door and thankful for the excuse to leave.  

It was the highlight of his days now. Thena had expressed a desire to learn Makkari’s sign language, but after the first battle they had realized how vital it could be to create a system of signaling plans and movements that didn’t need to be heard over the din of battle nor understood by the enemy. Since then, Makkari had been giving private lessons to Thena wherever possible and she and Druig both had been developing and teaching what they deemed ‘battle signs’ or ‘big signs’ to the army. With their separate units and training, which both had thrown themselves wholly into like never before, it was the only time apart from meals they got to see each other.

******************************************************************************Day 11

They attacked in the night, just as Druig had feared. Luckily, a cannon blast near Makkari’s tent- precisely on top of and slaughtering the inhabitants of the neighboring tent in fact- had woken her with harrowing shake.  

When the fighting broke out, Druig had run straight for her. Chaos had erupted as the unprepared and exhausted recruits grabbed their weapons and many were forced to forego their armor as the fighting came to them. Druig sent flames, lightening and anything else he could think of at swaths of Deviants on his way to her, covering their own army.  

When he found her, she was being cornered between a Deviant beast and several soldiers. In a moment of panic, some distance away, he cast a speed spell that was usually reserved for inanimate objects on her lithe form.  

Makkari felt the change immediately spread through her. She turn her gaze momentarily to see Druig headed straight for her. Her limbs felt electric. She felt like she could do anything. Her heartrate was impossible. She had no idea how long the quickening feeling would last, so she made use of it.

She moved at speeds that were, for the first time her life, truly supernatural. This was often said of her in a hyperbolic sense, but now she was truly divinely powered. Druig saw her form digress into nothing more than a glowing blur as she dispatched the soldier and attacked the monster with a flurry of blows it couldn’t begin to track. It was as incredible as it was frightening. He reached out and attempted to take control of the beast as he’d promised Andgeir he’d try.

Its mind was feral and wicked. Nothing but pure, violent impulse, and its force of will was strong. His eyes glowed bright gold and he threw every ounce of his attention and power into ravaging the beast. No one was watching his back, he was unsure if he would be able to succeed before taking a sword to the neck, but nonetheless he pressed into its primal psyche and grabbed hold with everything he had.

His body shook and something dripped from his nose, but he could feel his hold lock into place, wrangling the monster’s will. He tore through its mind in bursts of pure energy, and its screeches told the damage was landing. In a few seconds, it was dead on the ground- from one of Makkari’s blows or his attacks no one could tell.  

He felt the beast die and was released from the effort. A precursory sleeve across his face revealed the strange dripping feeling from his nose had been blood.

Makkari and he escaped with the retreating forces into the woods, Makkari at a normal pace again. Her chest hurt first, heart adjusting back to the appropriate rhythm. Soon though, everything was hurting. It felt like her skin was being torn apart. She tried to keep moving, Druig at her side, but her muscles felt like liquid and her shaky knees gave out suddenly.

“Makkari!” Druig shouted, bending to help her. “What’s wrong? Oh gods, this is the spell I cast isn’t?” He signed furiously as he mouthed the words.

I think so, Makkari managed. It was awesome while it lasted.

Bullshit, I just broke the inexhaustible Makkari Tilborn! Druig signed angrily, running a hand through his hair. “Your muscles couldn’t withstand that kind of insane movement speed so now they’re giving out. They’ve probably all been shredded, you must be in so much pain and- oh my gods,” a look of unspeakable dread crossed his features, eyes widening. “Your heart. Oh my gods, I could have killed you. I’m lucky your heart didn’t give out. I could have killed you.” His breath seemed caught in his chest, too shallow and quick.

Druig, she signed quickly to stop his spiral. You saved me! It worked, and we killed one of those monsters. We need to keep doing it.

“You think I’m going to do that to you again? Are you nuts?” She knew Druig was shouting because she could feel the vibrations from his voice.

We have to take risks. I can stand it. My muscles will grow and improve, and then I’ll be stronger. If anyone can survive that spell and become strong enough to manage it, it’s me, right? I’m the fastest person in Domo.

Druig forced her onto his back and ran to catch up with one of the army wagons barreling away. When he’d flagged them down and managed to get them both inside, he turned to Makkari and signed, We’re tabling this conversation for now.  

They survived the night once again, Druig gently massaging Makkari’s sore limbs and alternating cold and hot presses on the achiest bits. Makkari, persistent as always, told Thena about the revelation and convinced them all to let her train to keep using the new ability. She wore Druig down, her force of will stronger than his fears.

Makkari Tilborn had been a force to be reckoned with before the speed enhancement, but this level up cemented her title thereafter as The Bladed Blur, a moniker she took great pride in.