#and brennan just wants him DEAD

[lovecolibri]

I just love how much everyone in the group adores Gilear even though, and actually probably BECAUSE, he's just...the wettest, most pathetic sad-sack of a character. But the group loves him anyway! They fight to keep him around and try to figure out how to leave him in the van during fights! They magic away the toilet paper that gets stuck to his shoe, and they get go-gurt for him, and yes sometimes Fabian tries to use him as a springboard but it's partly so Gilear can feel like he's included and helping! They encourage him, and Fig updates his "intern" lanyard to a "tour manager" lanyard to let him know he's important. He's like...the Eeyore of the group. Everyone accepts him as he is and loves him anyway, and tries to make him feel included.

Except Brennan who is apparently dead set on killing that poor man. Leave Gilear ALONE!

[remarcely]

Elias Hodge is having a really bad day.

He'd known the meeting with Mr Henry would end poorly and had snagged the grappling gun for a worst case scenario, but he hadn't thought the man would actually attack him. Elias had managed to escape, crashing through the window and tried to ignore how badly his head stung, and the warm streaks of blood dripping down his neck.

Then, mid air, reality seemed to shift. Elias was abruptly so aware of his predicament and the dormant desire to fight roared back to life, screaming at him with the energy of a old Russian lady with a decade worth of stored up anger, as he turned to face Mr Henry. Defiant to his maybe-end, Elias had unhooked the grappling gun and aimed upwards, unable to contain his smug smile as it found its purchase.

He was surging back up, no longer destined to be roadkill on the street below, and as a window drew closer he froze up in the legs in preparation for what would surely be a painful landing. Oh, what did it matter, he was going to live! He was alive!

Then he'd shit himself.

Not a little shit either, no, he'd fully crapped his pants and more concerningly the relief of the sudden bowel evacuation had somehow cleared out his stress- which had been steadily climbing since the decision to raise his complaints.

Elias slammed through yet another window, barely sticking the landing, and didn't have a moment to process any of that before an alarm picked up on the buildings intercom.

A part of him wanted to run, another to hide in a toilet stall out of embarrassment, and for some reason he was a little horny?

Either way, he had to move, and quickly.

[breadandblankets]

evil duke isn't something i think about too often, he is such a kind and just person at his core that its almost hard for me to make him a villian.

one thing i am absolutely sure about evil!duke tho is he is Lawful as hell. just based on the Final Knight and the way Duke talks normally, he would be a prim and proper monologuing villain, lex luthor-core kinda sorta. He works through everything with a kind of grim detachment, all his the passion that makes him a great hero is Gone. he wears gloves to symbolically show off just how much he refuses to get his hands dirty.

for these types of villains there is always a breaking point, where their perfection fades and i genuinely dont think Evil!Duke would ever get pushed there. when backed into a corner the control gets even more ironclad and Thats finally when his powers lash out (if he is threatened in a way that can't just be buried in bureaucracy he starts with his fists)

Evil!Duke isnt a villain you fight one on one, only someone to negotiate down with for the safety of you and everyone around you

[clownjacket]

If Kipperlilly DOES end up betraying Porter/Jace as part of a secret other scheme she has (whether good or evil) and it has to do with saving Lucy, I just know she’s going to be a bitch about it and pull a ‘sorry, I only save High Five Heroes’ before leaving her other friends to die or some shit. And then she will take her final form: Magic Betty from Adventure Time, betraying her allies and saving her frost gf at the expense of the world. It would also parallel what Ankarna is going through (‘your girlfriend’s out of town, it sucks’, becoming a little imperialist rage machine under the influence of Porter/Sunstone but not being able to fully turn on Lucy despite going against her values and turning into a violent weirdo). This is my wish. My dream. I am manifesting it. Magic Betty Kipperlilly I believe in you.

[kerosene-in-a-blender]

The way Matt is playing Ludinus I think really encapsulates something Brennan has said about a lot of villains: Personality predates ideology. Ludinus grew up in a world scoured by the gods and suffered a great deal of trauma because of that. He's remarkably intelligent. He's also immensely self-centred, incredibly selfish, utterly incapable of considering that he might be wrong, and unable or unwilling to to do the level of self-reflection required to identify these traits in himself and work around them.

The result has been a man who has looked to the source of his trauma and wants them dead because they hurt him, specifically, regardless of any good they do for anyone else. And over his centuries of life he's constructed an ideology where he is Exandria's savior for doing this. The gods are oppressors, they feed off mortals and are stifling our progress. They need to die so that mortals can reach our true potential and no longer run the risk of being struck down for nearing their level. Their deaths are for the good of everyone, not just to soothe one old man's desire for petty vengeance. Anyone who disagrees with him simply hasn't been presented with all the facts, because he's so smart and always right so he can't be interpreting the evidence in a myopic, emotional way. Any collateral damage incurred over the course of pursuing his goals is either an acceptable sacrifice or somebody else's fault or both because he cannot ever be wrong. His desire for control over everyone else is simply for their benefit because he knows better.

[thisisnotthenerd]

god such good tactics from the bad kids in this fight.

quick level update: fig is a devotion paladin! joining the ranks with our most popular paladin subclass, among tuc ricky matsui, sunny biscotto, andhera, and viola. coincidentally she sits in the paladin chair (L1).

the bad kids have capped off at level 14; reference my last post on this for what they have here. they're going to this fight at like 3/4s of a tank; high level spells spent on healing and used in the last fight, hit die used, magic items spent.

ice feast prep: exhaustion and 1d12 damage, but cured of all poison and disease, immune to fire damage and stun, con saves with advantage, and hit point max increases by 2d10. incredible homebrew spell that complete fucks brennan in this fight. the immunity to fire lets them use the lava and environment to their advantage while making the enemies have to avoid the consequences of their own actions.

kristen getting k2 back? lovely story move. wanting a sister to share in your faith? brilliant. tactically, it gives them another full cleric who can move around the battlefield and heal while splitting attention. she has greater invisibility on and can just move around and get heals to people.

prepping fly on almost all of them means they avoid the difficult terrain and have mobility around the battlefield where they can get cover, remove line of sight, and calculate their ranges easily.

fabian killing ivy in one turn? exceptional. not just a good turn from lou but an example of what was to come from them. fabian has had one turn up in this combat and still fully removed the danger of ranger/fighter weapon attacks while drawing attention from the biggest threat.

riz casting slow with magical ambush? phenomenal. functionally took care of one of the big melee and one of the big spellcasters. mary ann did nothing, and ruben being slowed got rid of his counterspells. it made buddy waste a turn. also just fucking diving into the lava.

adaine with synaptic static? fantastic. really hitting the clump and making jace start damaged, when sorcerers are squishy to begin with. at level 20, and lets say a con modifier of +3, max he could get is 180, and realistically its closer to 120.

gorgug killing oisin in one turn and preventing him from going at all? fabulous. he's the one who could summon allies for the rat grinders--getting rid of him gets rid of that possibility.

kristen using the cover and then doing double rounds of healing from herself and k2? astounding. keeping out of sightlines for damage to hold bless. staying uncounterspellable.

fig with the enormous fireball? stupendous. sent ruben to hell, damaged mary ann, and really got all of the jaces, and broke buddy's banishment concentration

shout out to the melees: fig, fabian, and gorgug concentrated fire from porter as they took out the rat grinders. even though they all went down, they have reliable healers to get them off the ground. no holds barred. they took out the three rat grinders that are now dead.

none of them had rage tokens and they didn't get turned against their allies. they've spent this fight fully just dunking on the rat grinders, jace, and porter.

for the rat grinders: they've taken out ivy, oisin, and ruben--ivy with big ranged damage, oisin and ruben with 9th level spells and counterspells. they've bloodied all of the jaces and broken his big damage concentrations, broken buddy's concentration on banishment and damaged him, kept mary ann out of the fight pretty much until now, mostly avoided kipperlilly's sneak attacks, and riz is prepping to hit her with a spell on her turn. porter has taken some damage, but has been forced to use legendary resistances and can't get them to take him seriously.

realistically the difference between them comes from tactics. the rat grinders are being piloted by one guy who has to manage a lot of factors in this fight. they are not a team of adventurers who have read the book front to back and used it to prime advantage. they have not actually faced the monsters they farmed for xp. they likely don't have the types of magic items or feats that the bad kids have earned through their adventuring. their buffs have been knocked off one by one as the bad kids wreck house.

from a watsonian perspective they're not using basic party strategy: not protecting their wizard, not moving their melees to give the rogue sneak attack, clumping up and getting AOEed thrice to great effect, expending their big resources at the top of the fight, not using cover or other tactical advantages, giving themselves difficult terrain and having to deal with hazards the bad kids don't have, not coordinating their counterspells and other debuffs, not protecting their cleric or encouraging him to heal, and working on a ritual that they don't have all the tools for.

they're statted like power-leveled pcs, not npcs, and what do npcs have? magic items, unique abilities, and hit points. jace and porter have homebrew shit going on. the rat grinders are 20th level with the hit points of maybe 10th level characters. ivy only took 78 points of damage before going down. 2 attacks from fabian plus incidentals from fig's green flame blade. they all have glass cannon type builds except for maybe mary ann, and we haven't seen her go to work yet.

incredibly excited for the finale next week. sidenote the outfits are so fun. i might be late next week because i have a concert to go to, but still. i'll be back with xp counts and some reflection on what the rat grinders have actually done.

[callsign-rogueone]

you're somebody else - b.s.

Brennan Sorrengail x Reader words: 1.7k 🏷: IRON FLAME SPOILERS. reader uses she/her pronouns. angst, angst, angst (but a happy ending!) blood, discussion of injury, scars and stitches. inspired by / titled after the song by flora cash

Your fiancé has been dead for six years. You’d read his name on the death roll, and burned his belongings in an offering to Malek. 

Now he’s standing thirty feet away from you with both of his sisters, breathing and moving, reacting to something they’d said.

He’s alive.

Your grip on your bag falters, and it falls to the floor with a soft thud. 

Everyone’s eyes turn to you. The younger of the two Sorrengail girls recognizes you instantly, her lips parting in shock as she takes you in for the first time since Brennan’s graduation from Basgiath. 

Her gaze shifts to her brother, whose eyes are now locked with yours. You look like you’ve seen a ghost, unable to pull your eyes away from the man in front of you. 

You make no move toward him; don’t leap into his arms like he’d imagined for years, don’t hug him as tightly as you can, don’t cry tears of happiness. Your boots are still glued to the polished floor of the hall. 

“Sweetheart,” he breathes, “I…”

You flinch at his voice, the sound you’ve only heard in dreams for the last six years.

The tall man standing beside him, who you distantly recognize to be Fen Riorson’s son, motions for the two girls to leave.

“It’s good to see you again,” Violet says softly. You’ve always had a soft spot for her, had written her letters after you’d gotten the news, sharing in her grief. 

Mira only gives you a lingering glance as she follows her sister, leaving you alone with Brennan.

“You’re hurt,” he says gently, seeing the tear in the right thigh of your pants and the bloody gash beneath it. “Can I mend you?”

You remain silent, but you nod once in affirmation.

You pretend the hands on your leg belong to anyone else, keeping your eyes forward while he kneels in front of you, working to close the wound.

He finally speaks. “My love, I’m so-”

“Please don’t call me that,” you interrupt, and he feels a pain rival to that of the arrow he’d taken to the chest, the one that should have killed him. 

He’s silent, letting you continue. You’ll likely have as much pent up emotion to release as his sisters did when they found out. Thankfully, you choose Violet’s path over Mira’s, eviscerating him with words rather than fists. His nose still doesn’t feel right; mending himself has always been difficult.

“I still mourn you,” you tell him. “I've lit a candle for Malek every night in your honor since I got the news. To have my life crumble around me, to find out we’re at war, that I’ve been on the wrong side the whole time, and then to find that for six years, you’ve been alive, but you never once thought about writing to me to tell me any of it…” you shake your head, pressing your lips together to hold in a sob.

You steady your breathing after a moment. “I’m glad you’re alive, Brennan, I really am. But my Brennan, the man I was supposed to marry, the one who wrote me love letters in ancient languages, is still dead. He has been for years.”

You reach into the chest pocket of your flight jacket, placing something cold in his hand and closing his fingers around it. He doesn’t need to look down to know that it's your engagement ring.

“Thank you for the mending,” you say, picking up your bag. 

He waits until your footsteps have retreated back into the hallway, letting loose a shuddering sob.

Marbh sends him a wave of warmth and empathy. If there is any being who knows how much it had hurt Brennan to be away from you so long, it is him.

“Your brother needs you, silver one,” Tairn relays to Violet, a resigned quiet in his tone that has the cadet slipping away from the group to run back to the assembly room.

When she arrives, she finds Brennan sitting on the floor, knees tucked to his chest, sobbing. It’s a sight she never wants to see again; it just feels so wrong. 

Brennan had always been the strongest of the siblings, the tree that could weather any storm, a perfect balance of their mother’s intense strength and their father’s calm intelligence. It was always her crying after an injury, Mira or Brennan taking her to the infirmary for Nolon to mend it, soothing her all the while.

It’s her turn now to hold him as he cries, murmuring reassurances.

“She’ll come around,” Violet promises, though there’s a nagging feeling in her chest that says you might not. “Prove to her that you are the same man she fell in love with, that you are still worthy of her, and she’ll come around.”

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

You don’t speak with him for two days, only seeing him stand on the dais at Battle Brief. 

It had stung to hear Devera refer to him as Lieutenant Colonel Aisereigh. He’d changed his name. He really isn’t your Brennan anymore. 

He catches you at breakfast — none of your squadmates had come with you from Montserrat, so you’re sitting alone at one of the long tables.

You look up at him silently, letting him speak first. 

He lays a thick bundle of papers on the table in front of you. “The first year of letters,” he answers before you can ask, “that I was too much of a coward to send.”

You look down at the stack of aged parchment. There have to be at least twenty letters there — one a week since July, when he’d been sent to Aretia.

By the time you look back up, he’s gone.

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

A week passes, then another. 

He’s nearly too busy to worry about you, between the arguments among the assembly, the arrival of the gryphon fliers and the subsequent issues integrating them, and his duties mending the injuries resulting from the animosity there.

Someone steps through the door of the infirmary, panting as they limp an injured rider forward. “She just collapsed. I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Brennan realizes it’s you they’re holding up, his heart pounding. He wraps an arm around your waist to take you from your friend, and his hand slips against your side, warm and wet with blood. 

He guides you onto one of the empty beds, pulling up the sticky fabric of your shirt.

The messily-wrapped bandage around your torso has absorbed all the blood it can, the row of stitches underneath torn open. You must have done this yourself in an effort to avoid him, and it didn’t hold.

At least the wound doesn’t seem infected.

He presses a clean palm into the skin, apologizing when you whimper and flinch away. “S’okay, pretty girl,” he soothes, brushing the hair from your forehead gently.

You don’t seem to hear him, your eyes still closed. Fuck, how much blood have you lost?

It’s easy enough to mend the wound, but it’s going to scar — it’s not fresh enough for him to make it disappear without a trace.

He washes the blood from his hands, pulling up a chair beside the bed and watching the gentle rise and fall of your chest as you sleep.

He has no idea if you’ve read the letters he gave you had changed your mind, or if you’d read them at all. You may very well have burned them. You’d be right to, after the way he’d lied to you.

You might never take him back. This may be his last chance to touch you, to feel the warmth of your skin against his. 

He takes your hand gently, intertwining your fingers and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, squeezing your palm three times — three times means I love you, you’d told him years ago.

His heart nearly stops as you squeeze back weakly; once, twice, three times.

—————————————————————

You blink the sleep from your eyes, your gaze settling on Brennan sitting beside you, an ancient looking book in his hand, pen between his teeth and a notebook covered with nearly incoherent scribbles in his lap.

Maybe he hasn’t changed as much as you’d thought.

The book and notes are quickly abandoned when he realizes you’re awake. “What the hell happened?”

“Godsdamned gryphon bit me because it didn’t like the order I gave it’s flier,” you explain, stretching your aching muscles. How long had you been asleep?

“And rather than seeking professional help, you stitched it up yourself?” He asks in that same stern tone he’d always used with you after you put yourself in danger.

This time you don’t find it endearing. 

“Yes, I did, like I have for the last six years every time I’ve been injured,” you snap. “The way people do when they don’t have a mender with them.”

He holds his tongue, realizing how many scars you’d acquired over the years. Since he developed his signet, he’d always mended even the smallest of scrapes for you, but now stripes of scar tissue run across your skin like rivers on a map, ghosts of past wounds, some healed better than others.

He imagines you sitting alone in your barracks room with a needle and thread, a folded shirt clenched between your teeth as you sewed the wounds shut.

“Please come see me next time?” He asks softly, genuine concern in his voice. “It could have gotten infected, or worse. And if your friend hadn’t been there…”

You sigh, guilt tugging at you. “Okay.”

“Thank you. Get some rest,” he encourages, turning to gather his things.

“I read some of the letters,” you say, and he turns back to face you. “I’m still hurt, but I’m not angry. I don’t think I could ever be angry with you. You’re a good man, Bren. You’ve done great things for these people.”

The weight on his chest lightens, but he stays quiet, waiting for another heartbreaking line.

“Can we start over?” You ask in a whisper, looking up at him. “Can we try to be us again?”

He smiles. “I’d love nothing more, sweetheart.”

Your heart flutters at the word, as if you’re hearing it from him for the first time. In a way, you are.

[clarionglass]

so i have been bitten by the sam reich!master bug courtesy of some phenomenal art by @northernfireart and uh. as is too often the case i had to write something otherwise if i didn't get it out of my brain i would go absolutely insane

(there may be more vignettes coming if i have ideas..... there are definitely other episodes i'd like to give the Treatment to, plus with the new dw series coming out on the weekend i may have ideas for how to incorporate the dw gang! however, i promise neither more writing or no more writing. that said, this was a lot of fun so there'll probably be more at some stage :D )

this has full spoilers for the game changer ep "escape the greenroom", but hey that's been out for a while now so,,,, if you haven't seen it i'd highly recommend it as an episode!

so, without further ado:

--

Samuel Dalton was a complete fiction, of course, but that didn't mean that when Sam Reich snuck back upstairs to get tied up in the “out of order” bathroom, the Sam that remained on the monitor, laughing at the contestants, was a pre-recording. And if Brennan, Siobhan and Lou had snorted at the idea of a time-travelling evil magician great-grandfather (for good reason), going in with the actual truth of the matter would have sounded like jumping the shark.

It sounded bizarre, but the time travel bit was the only part about his new partner in crime that was confirmably real. Admittedly, the jury was still out on “evil”—he gave off a weird vibe at times, but so far, no lines had been crossed, and it had all been funny as hell—so for now, Sam was willing to roll with it. But perhaps most surprisingly, there wasn’t even the possibility of blood relation between Samuel Dalton Reich and the guy who had shown up out of the blue one day with his exact face and a plan to really fuck around with things on Game Changer.

Yeah, the whole alien thing had really ruled out that particular prospect.

There had been various bits and pieces of confirmation that this guy wasn’t human through the time Sam had known him, but the final nail in the coffin for that one was when his doppelganger had looked him dead in the eye and tried on one of the heart rate monitors—sorry, “range extenders”—for As a Cucumber. The damn thing had literally sparked up, then died completely. Trying to process input from two separate heartbeats at once would do that, apparently. 

His doppelganger was a Time Lord, or so he had nonchalantly said one afternoon in casual conversation, though Sam still wasn’t sure if that one was a joke or not. It was hard to tell, sometimes, because he said the wildest things with the straightest face, and so far, most of them had turned out to be one hundred percent certifiably true. The time travel, the space travel, even the changing faces thing—it sounded objectively insane, but the proof was undeniable. 

There were some notable exceptions, though. Saying he’d been trapped for aeons inside Neil Patrick Harris’s gold tooth went just that bit too far to be believable, though Sam did appreciate his double’s slightly warped sense of humour.

It was that offbeat line of thinking that lent itself well to game design, as it turned out. He had a knack for coming up with ideas for Game Changer episodes, albeit with the occasional suggestion that went way beyond the bounds of good taste, and, as in the case of Escape the Greenroom, had devised some blinding twists on concepts Sam had already half-formed. The letter puzzle unlocking the secret door? It was perfect.

Understandably, Sam��s doppelganger had wanted to observe the fruits of their labours in real time, rather than watching the recording later. It happened, sometimes, particularly when it was one of his ideas that had made it through to the episode list—they’d swap places for a session, with nobody being any the wiser. Watching those edits back always felt a bit weird—it was uncanny how flawless the mimicry was—but hey, the guy was right. It was always fun.

Escape the Greenroom, specifically, with its “Samuel Dalton” conceit, provided them with a unique opportunity. Instead of swapping out the camera feed for a recording when the cast piled into the tiny secret room behind the wall, as per the original plan to get Sam in position to be discovered in the bathroom, they could just swap out the people. Sam would go upstairs, and his double would take his place at the podium, ducking out of sight when everyone came back to the main stage to “defuse the bomb”.

Sam was keen—hell, if their situations had been reversed, he’d want to be there to watch, too—but caution raised a flag. “You don’t think it’s too risky?” he’d asked when the subject was first raised. “Both of us being in the same place?”

His doppelganger had shrugged one shoulder with supreme unconcern. “The crew won't notice.”

At the time, Sam had shot him a sceptical look, but right now, Sam-Reich-in-a-purple-tie and Sam-Reich-in-an-orange-tie were standing backstage post-record, clearly visible and and calmly chatting, and not a single member of the crew had given them so much as a second glance. 

…Hardly even a first glance, come to think about it. If anyone looked over their way, their eyes seemed to… not exactly go through them, but slide over the two of them like water. He was tempted to wave to Nico or Ash or someone, just out of pure curiosity, but something in the back of his mind told him that wouldn’t be the world’s greatest idea. He had a funny feeling he wouldn’t like to see what would happen next.

(He’d given the prop bomb back to the crew once the cameras stopped rolling, and though it looked the same as the one he remembered from before he’d headed upstairs, it felt different in his hands. Heavier, more… serious, somehow. He was sure nothing would have happened—but at the same time, he was suddenly very glad that the cast had cut the correct wire with no less than a minute fifteen to go.)

(The jury was still out on evil, after all.)

“Worth coming in for?” he asked instead.

“Absolutely,” his double replied with relish. “Locking those three in a small room for an hour? Brilliant, fantastic. Inspired. It was absolute chaos.”

“Have you seen up there?” Sam asked, a smile starting to spread across his face. “They messed up the set real bad.”

His doppelganger smirked at him. “You know it took literally two seconds from you telling them to escape the greenroom for Lou to smash that guitar?”

Sam shook his head. “Oh my god. Yeah, they were stressed.” 

“Mmm. Some real panic in that room,” his doppelganger agreed, and Sam chose to ignore the faint note of satisfaction in his voice.

He shifted his weight, settling back to lean against the table behind the set, in the exact instant his double decided to do the same thing. It really was freaky how similar they were, down to the smallest mannerism—like looking in a mirror, only weirder, because the face that looked back at him was truly his own face, not mirror-reversed. Even now, it still caught Sam off guard from time to time, but at least it had faded into a more comfortable kind of strange. He had an exact lookalike who was an actual time-travelling alien. Cool. Doesn’t everyone?

The pair shared a companionable silence for a few moments, before a thought Sam had been turning over for a while rose to the top of his mind. He shifted again, this time on his own, and he felt his double’s regard swing up to fix on him like a magnet. 

“Okay, real talk,” he started, and his doppelganger frowned back in an approximation of confused innocence. “What’s all this for?”

“Who says it has to be for anything? Aren't we just having fun?”

Sam hummed, considering. “Yeah. No, I'd believe that, if I didn't sometimes walk into production meetings and find out I'd apparently been very specific about the people I wanted for certain episodes.”

“Point for Sam,” his doppelganger acknowledged with a grin. “You got me. Wasn’t hard to make a few phone calls on our joint behalf.”

“Yeah, but why?” Sam pressed. “I mean, Siobhan, Brennan and Lou are always great comedy value when you put them together, and it was awesome to have them for this, but I get the feeling you’re thinking of something other than making good content.”

“Who, me?”

With that, his double gave him a look of such overdone pantomime innocence that Sam suddenly and thoroughly understood why, not half an hour earlier, Brennan had very seriously threatened to push him down the stairs. 

He rolled his eyes, which earned him a smirk for his troubles.

Dropping the act, his doppelganger continued. “I’m expecting an… old friend, I guess, to show up at some point, and—well, I’d like to put on a really special show for them. I thought it would be a good opportunity to try a few things out, you know?”

Ominous pause aside, that was actually kind of sweet. Sweeter than he’d been expecting, that’s for sure—he was half anticipating the revelation that he and his cast were subjects in some weird experiment. Hey, that still couldn’t fully be ruled out, but still.

“Okay,” he acquiesced. “Well… just let me know, next time? Before you start ordering in my cast like takeout?”

“Who says they’re your cast?” his double shot back with a twinkle in his eye, and Sam snorted.

“Fine. Our cast, then. But seriously, let me know?”

His doppelganger nodded, which, if not quite fully convincing, was good enough. 

“Oh, and do you know when your friend might be arriving?” Sam asked. “Because if you wanted to plan something, we can—”

“I don’t know,” his doppelganger interrupted. “So yeah, we’ll have to move fast when they do get here. But I’ve got it under control.”

He broke off, then shot Sam a mischievous grin. “In the meantime, though, I’ve had this fun thought about time loops…”

[thecutepoison]

Guys, I'm kinda freaking out... we learned last episode that in the abscence of the previously estipulated successors, the position of principal of aguefort would fall upon the student's council president, right?

I'm going to state the obvious for a second. It's a given that Kipperlily is trying to win the election for more reasons than a personal achievement. She was 100% aware of the gap in the rules, which would mean Aguerfort's joke would be interpreted as the only manifestation of his will. This is the girl who said she's busy studying the student government and takes active joy in finding loopholes in the rules (like acing the year bc the rogue teacher found her).

But what is her angle here? It's a powerful position for sure, but the Rat Grinder's must be after something specific. So I started asking myself what specifically would help them in the plan of raising this Forgotten God from the dead. Aguefort's office must have dangerous items aplenty given the incident with the crown and his general personality. Do they want access to that?

Then it dawned on me.

Lydia Barkrock's body is under the fucking school.

For those who don't remember, in sophomore year it was revealed that Arthur Aguefort cloned Lydia while she was sleeping and placed her soul into a new body, hiding her original one in the depths beneath the school. Crazy ass move bc he did that without warning her, but that's what prevented Kalina from permanently killing Lydia in season 2 - upon the clone's death, she gained consciousness in her original body.

It's only fair to assume that Aguefort made this precaution again after sophomore year for the same reason: Lydia's death would entail Bakur's escape. And if Kipperlily is elected and becomes the principal... it's very likely she would have access to Lydia's original body since it's on school ground. Her vulnerable, unconscious body, the only thing preventing the fiend from escaping.

That's really bad, guys. Bakur knows how to do the divine ressurection ritual, he only failed because he picked the wrong place. But the Rat Grinders do know a place that would work!! Kipperlily specifically asked Jawbone about Yes! and he did tell her that this god was created by Kristen when she died in Prom and went to corn heaven. So, a god was born in corn heaven - that's why the Rat Grinders personally requested Buddy Dawn, a cleric of Helio. Maybe by using him, they can pass through the pearly gates to perform the ritual. After all, Arthur Aguefort did the same thing using Kristen.

Basically, if Lydia dies, all pieces fall in place for them. Together with Bakur, they have all the info necessary to pull this God from the Astral Plane back to existence. They would just have to kill her unconscious body and slay the clone holding her soul. What they lack right now is the access, which solved by gaining the position of principal.

PS: Also, there's a rat society under the school?? Perhaps it's close to where Lydia's body is localized?? Idk Brennan is insane

[pidoveenthusiast]

This latest episode of Fantasy High guys i just need you to listen to me because i am about to eat concrete.

So by now we've all realized the Rat Grinders are for SOME REEASON trying to ressurect a dead god by recreating how kristen created YES!.

But with that realization. Guys.

Guys.

They invited Buddy onto their team with the explicit intention of killing him.

And very likely? He doesnt know.

The boy who's religion is a direct parrallel of Christianity is QUITE LITERALLY going to be used as a SACRIFICIAL LAMB.

I feel insane. Brennan. Mr. Mulligan. I just want to talk.

[justallihere]

opened my document of sitq scrapped scenes for reasons i've now forgotten, but there's a couple things there i really liked that never fit in what i published, and it's been a while since i've shared any of these, so here you go! these are all entirely unedited and cut off in weird places, so don't take it too seriously. enjoy!

a deleted scene between vi, ridoc, and sawyer from the planning stages of the journal heist (also, proof that the idea of malek and his consort was in my head for a long time before i ever wrote it):

“He’s fucking useless,” Violet muttered to herself, channeling her restless energy into straightening the papers and books on her desk until everything sat in neat piles. 

“No, he’s terrified of your husband carving him up into tiny pieces,” Ridoc corrected. 

“I still can’t believe you broke into your mom’s office without me,” Sawyer said for the third time. He’d been understandably upset when he found out about the late-night adventure he’d missed out on the week prior, but Violet hadn’t apologized. 

Neither had Ridoc, who’d quickly grown bored with Sawyer’s complaints. He scoffed. “You would rather knock out infantry and sneak into the admin building because Violet got that look on her face than go down on your girlfriend?” 

Sawyer blushed. “Okay, look—“

“No one’s blaming you,” Violet said, flipping open the front cover of The Unabridged History of the First Six. Jesinia had found her this morning to pass the book off after her unproductive conversation with Cam yesterday. She’d skimmed most of it already and hadn’t found anything particularly useful. “Jesinia gave a glowing review. Good for you.” 

Despite the color in his cheeks, Sawyer persisted. “I’m just saying, if you’re going to pull off a fucking heist, you could warn me. Or at least not wait almost a week to tell me.” 

“I’m just saying,” Ridoc retorted, “that if you want to be included then you could try celibacy like the rest of us.“ 

“You spent the night with that third-year from First Wing two nights ago,” Sawyer pointed out. “And Rhiannon and Tara aren’t quiet. Violet’s the only celibate person in this squad.” 

“Let’s not talk about my sex life,” Violet interrupted. 

“You don’t have one,” Ridoc said with a charming grin. “But when you do, I expect to hear all about it.” 

She glared and changed the subject back to their initial discussion. “We’ll try to make our breaking and entering schedules align better next time.” Because there would almost certainly be a next time. 

“That’s all I ask,” Sawyer said with a pointed look at Ridoc. 

The three of them were alone in Violet’s room. Rhiannon was in a leadership meeting, and Liam was taking a shower and likely to join them at any moment. Violet hid the book on the First Six beneath another history text and tucked them both into the bottom drawer of her desk. It was where she kept Brennan’s journal and The Fables of the Barren. With the conversation from this past weekend and Brennan’s request still fresh on her mind, she pulled out the Fables and set the book on her desk. 

“There’s nothing useful in the book Jesinia gave you, Vi?” Ridoc asked. 

“It’s a very abridged version to be unabridged,” she said dryly, flipping open the worn leather cover. “I don’t know what to try next. Jesinia says there isn’t much else in the Archives, about the Six or the wards in general. Nothing useful, at least—it’s all about expanding, not creating.” 

“It’d be nice if we had their journals,” he said. “Maybe that’s one of the things your dad was after.” 

The first several fables were about the gods—the very first one was about Malek and his consort, and Violet had always liked that one best. She ran her hands over the illustrations of the god of the dead and the shadowy figure at his side. “Whose journals?” she said absently. 

“Warrick and Lyra.” 

Violet paused, let the words settle, and finally turned slowly to look at Ridoc after a beat too long. “Warrick and Lyra,” she echoed dumbly. 

“Two of the First Six riders,” he confirmed. 

“I know who Warrick and Lyra are,” Violet said, too sharply. “Why do you think they have personal journals?” 

“Because they’re in the Archives.” Ridoc was staring at her like she’d lost her head. Sawyer looked between the two of them, openly curious. Violet’s jaw dropped open. “When we broke into your mom’s office last year for Squad Battle, she had a ledger that listed them as being stored in a sublevel vault. I flipped through it while you were stealing the map.” 

It was an effort to close her mouth. “We don’t have sublevel vaults.” But even as she said it, it felt wrong. Why wouldn’t they? Why wouldn’t the scribes store information in spaces even more secure than the general Archives, spaces that the average cadet or citizen had no idea about? 

History changes depending on who’s writing it, Cam had said. Did he know about the journals? Was that why he was here—looking for actual first-hand accounts of the history he seemed to be so interested in? 

Ridoc shrugged. “According to the paperwork in General Sorrengail’s office, we do,” was all he said. 

“Markham would have told me. My dad would have told me,” Violet whispered, pulling her desk chair out to sit down heavily. 

His expression slipped into something a bit more sympathetic. “You already know he was keeping secrets about his work before he died,” he reminded her gently. “I’m not saying he did it to hurt you, but it’s likely he was keeping a lot of things from you. If your mom knows, doesn’t it make sense that he would have known, too? He was the scribe, after all. He spent a lot of time in the Archives, didn’t he?” 

Violet only shook her head. Not in a real form of disagreement—she just didn’t want to believe it. Didn’t want there to be even more secrets to uncover. 

“Maybe he didn’t know,” Sawyer offered gently. 

She shook her head again. “He probably did,” she said, and it hurt to admit, but it felt like the truth. She turned back to the book still open, the only piece of her father she had left. She flipped through the pages again, unseeing, and made herself shake off the crushing feeling of disappointment and hurt. “What are we missing?” she asked Sawyer and Ridoc. 

“Clearance,” Ridoc said dryly. 

She threw him a glare over her shoulder. “In terms of information.” 

“Clearance,” Sawyer said, and earned the same dark look. He held up his hands. “Look, Vi, I know you want to know everything, but whatever this is, we don’t have the rank to find out, and I don’t think this is something you can stubborn your way into if Riorson isn’t going to just tell you himself. How do you expect to get in a sublevel vault of the Archives? Your mom’s apartment where you grew up is one thing, but breaking into probably the most secure place in Basgiath that we didn’t even know existed five minutes ago? That’s extreme, even for you.” 

She sighed and leaned back in her chair, scrubbing her hands over her face. “If it’s something so bad that Navarre has hidden it or erased it from their history entirely—“ Then what? She didn’t know. She didn’t have a plan for that. But that was what Cam had implied inadvertently, and it seemed to be what they were doing with her father—erasing him and his work. What could he have possibly known that was so dangerous Navarre didn’t even want a reference to it existing after his death? 

“We might never figure it out,” Sawyer said. 

“No,” Violet said firmly. She didn’t believe that; she couldn’t.

“Even if it’s not written down, people know. We just have to find the right one to tell us the truth.” 

“If not Riorson, then who?” Ridoc asked. 

That was the part Violet was still deciding. Cam was the most obvious choice, and he seemed to want her to know whatever it was—unlike Xaden and Brennan and her mother, who were actively hiding things and not dropping so much as a cryptic hint. Liam was a possibility, but she was fairly certain his loyalty to Xaden and his desire to keep her safe would win out over any desire to tell Violet the truth. 

“I don’t know,” she admitted. 

“Helpful,” Ridoc drawled. 

She rubbed her eyes again. “Xaden will be here tomorrow. Maybe I can—“ 

She cut herself off when a knock came on the door. Violet was closest, and when she opened it, Liam was waiting, damp-haired and holding a physics textbook. “Please help me,” he said, holding up a half finished assignment, and Violet waved him in. 

She nudged The Fables of the Barren out of the way as he took a seat at her desk, her perusal of it forgotten in favor of his homework.

***

a funny little moment between sloane and violet about dain:

“Enjoying the view?” 

Sloane jumped at Violet’s approach. “I’m not staring,” she said quickly. 

“What do you call it, then?” Violet asked, amused. 

“Watching for technique.” 

Violet laughed. Dain and Ridoc were sparring, both of them shirtless and sweaty. On the mat next to them, Rhiannon was working with Tessa, patiently walking her through several offensive moves. She was much better than she had been three months ago; she looked stronger, had better posture, moved more smoothly. 

“Which one are you watching?” Violet asked. 

“Both,” said Sloane imperiously, lifting her chin. 

“Well, they’re both trouble, so good luck.” 

“I thought Aetos was all straight-laced.” Sloane rolled her eyes. “That’s what Liam says, at least. Told me to avoid him.” 

“Dain has a strict sense of morals,” Violet said carefully. “But he’s a good man, or he wouldn’t be here.” 

Sloane turned a critical eye her way. “Were you two ever. . .” 

“No,” Violet said. Sloane raised an eyebrow, and Violet smiled indulgently. “He kissed me once. It was nothing.” 

Sloane’s mouth dropped open. “You’re lying,” she hissed. 

“I am not.” 

“Does Xaden know?” she whispered, like it was some sort of dirty secret. 

“I’m sure he’s guessed.” 

***

and finally, an alternate take on xaden and violet's first kiss, taking place at athebyne immediately after xaden woke up from his injuries during the fight:

“Violet—“

She lurched forward, cutting off whatever else he might be about to say by covering his mouth with her own. He caught her, his hands bracketing her waist, but he was otherwise still beneath her touch. She waited, pressing closer, and finally he responded, his mouth slackening as he parted his lips to kiss her back. 

“Violet.” It was a groan this time, and he pulled her closer, hungry, urgent, impatient. Wanting. She kissed him again, again, tasting blood on his tongue. He lifted a hand to cup her face, his thumb pressing into her chin beneath her lower lip, and he drew back. “Violet.” Now it was cautious. 

“Xaden.” She waited for the rest of the sentence. 

“You never answered my question earlier.” He paused, and the silence stretched for a beat too long. 

She brushed their lips together again. “You technically never asked me a question,” she pointed out. “But in case it wasn’t clear, this is my answer.” 

“I want you to say it,” Xaden whispered.

Violet tipped forward until their foreheads touched, and she stayed there for a moment, sharing air. “I love you.” 

He swore, low like he couldn’t quite believe it, and kissed her like he’d never get to do it again. His hands tightened on her, one hand sliding from her waist to her hip, the other tilting her face so he could kiss her deeper, nipping at her lower lip. It wasn’t hard enough to hurt, but she felt the sensation all over her body. She wound her hands into his hair and shuffled closer. His hands slid down from her hips, gripping her ass to pull her body flush against his. He broke the kiss, tugging her lip between his teeth as he drew back. “Say it again,” he ordered in a rough voice, and she shuddered. 

“I love you.” She found his mouth again, unsure how to be separate from him now that they’d started this. Between gasps for air, she murmured, “I love you. Tell me you love me.” 

He groaned. “I love you.” He gripped her thigh, pulling her knee up and over so it was braced on the bed against his hip, straddling his thighs. “More than anything.” She pushed forward until Xaden leaned back against the bed and she was half-kneeling above him, still trying to memorize the taste of him. “More than everything.” 

She licked into his mouth, shivering when he dug his fingers hard into her skin and pulled her up higher so she sat atop his stomach to reach his mouth easier. Her hands roamed, sliding from his hair, down across his neck and shoulders and broad chest. She reached the hem of his shirt and was sliding her hands beneath the material to touch his bare skin when the door opened. 

Violet jerked back, startled, but Xaden only followed her, levering himself upright to try to kiss her again—until he looked over her shoulder and glowered. 

“Go the fuck away,” he ordered, wrapping both arms around her waist to pull her close, like whoever had entered might try to steal her away from him. He kissed the curve of her jaw, and Violet tried again to squirm away, but he held her too tightly. 

The person at the door made a low sound of disgust. “I wanted to check on you, but I see you’re doing fine,” Brennan said. 

Violet jolted again. It would have been bad enough if it was Bodhi or Garrick, but for her big brother to see her plastered against Xaden like this—she’d never hear the end of it. 

Xaden didn’t seem to agree, or to care. “You’re going to see a lot more that you don’t want to see if you don’t leave now.” 

“Xaden,” Violet hissed. 

He only tipped her chin up and brushed his lips over hers. “You tell him to go away,” he murmured. 

“Brennan,” Violet said firmly. “Leave.” 

[angstywaifu]

Take A Chance - Brennan Sorrengail

Part 2 to Love Doesn't Suit You Requests Open.

Masterlist

My eye lids feel heavy. Gods my entire body feels heavy. It’s like I’m wadding through water to even try to open my eyes. When I finally do, I’m met with a dimly lit room. The mage light above my head barely emitting light. And judging by the slight coolness to the room it must be night time. Then the smell hits me. The infirmary.

I was alive. Somehow I was alive. But I shouldn’t be. There was no way to get me to a healer or mender in time. I should have died in the training room. Should have bled out on the floor. And yet here I was, lying in the infirmary alive. No pain. Nothing. A sniffle draws my attention to a chair pulled up next to my bed. The occupant leaning forward with their elbows on their knees as they stare at the floor, one of their hands clasped firmly around mine. Brennan. Brennan who is crying. Brennan who I’ve never seen cry a day in my life.

”Bren?” I say, the words barely audible due to how hoarse my throat was.

Brennan's head snaps up at the sound of my voice, his eyes puffy and red from crying. His amber eyes are still filled with tears. For a few moments, all he does is stare at me, as if he can't believe I've woken up.

”What are you doing here?” I ask him, my voice shaking as those damn words echo in my head again.

”Y-you almost died. You were bleeding out in my arms.” His voice cracking slightly. “I… I thought I lost you. I should have lost you.”

I look down at his hands still clasped firmly around mine, noticing the slight tinge of red to his skin. Blood. My blood. He was the one I heard screaming my name as I fell to the ground bleeding out. The one to pull me into their arms before I blacked out. I should have died in his arms.

”How?” I ask, looking up into his pained eyes.

He drops his gaze from mine, letting out a shaky breath as he squeezes my hand. “My signet.”

But Brennan didn’t have a…. He’d manifested his signet because of me. I reach down and pull the sheet back revealing my exposed stomach. Where there should be long gaping wound, is smooth skin. No sign of the knife that had cut me open. There was only one signet that could make that possible. Brennan was a mender.

”Thank you.” I say softly as I place the sheet back down.

”I’m sorry about yesterday.” His voice so quiet I barely hear it as I look back at him.

”You weren’t wrong though. Love and me don’t go together.” I say bitterly as I remove my hands from his.

A pained look quickly flickering in Brennan’s features as I remove my hands from his. “I just….. I just thought we we’re going somewhere. That you might finally give me a chance after all these years of whatever this is.”

He wasn’t wrong. I wanted to be with him so badly. Everything about Brennan drove me crazy. I wanted his eyes on me, his hands on me, wanted to be his. But I couldn’t. I had seen first hand what came from two dragon riders being together. My parents. My very dead parents. Both gone, leaving me behind.

”I… I can’t deny it’s something I want. But we both know what being a dragon rider is like. Any day could be our last and… I don’t know if I could cope with losing someone close to me again. It’s just easier this way.”

”Easier?” My eyes snapping back to him at the anger in his tone. “It’s easier for you to just keep screwing other people than it is to just take the leap and actually be in a relationship?”

”Yes Brennan. Because if I get attached and you die……” Lies. I was already attached. A tear rolls down my face as I look down, quickly trying to wipe it away before Brennan sees. “I have my reasons. Just because it’s easier doesn’t make it easy.”

Brennan scoffs as he shakes his head, pushing up from the chair, his eyes staring down at me. “You’re a coward. You’d rather push away people that care about you so you don’t have to suffer.:

I pull back the sheets, standing up to face Brennan. Fresh tears rolling down my face.

”You don’t know what I’ve been through. Watching an entire family of dragon riders die, till I was the only one left. Till no one came home. Sorry if I’m protecting myself. But I know I can’t go through someone I care about not coming home again.”

Brennan and I just stare at each other. Brennan’s breathing slow and deep as if trying to compose himself. I’d never seen Brennan like this before. Never seen someone push him to this point before. Brennan was always the level headed calm one. But not now.

”You’re right. I don’t know what its like to live like that. But you’ll stand there, and call that protecting yourself? You know as well as I do you’re just afraid. You’re afraid you don’t deserve to be happy. That’s the real issue here.”

”Because I don’t Brennan! Anyone I’ve been close to, anyone I’ve let myself love has died. I don’t deserve to be happy.”

Brennan shakes his head, stepping towards me. Taking one of my hands in his. “That’s not true. None of it is.” He sighs. “Please, don’t do this. Don’t push me away.”

I reach up with my free hand, placing it on his chest. A war ragging inside my head if I should push him away or not. If I did push him away… There was no going back. If I did that would be it. We’d had this argument before, but never like this. Beneath my hand I can feel his heart beating heavily. Just like my own.

”And what if I don’t push you away?” I ask softly.

He places his hand on top of mine. “Don’t push me away. Give this a chance. Give us a chance. Give this a chance knowing I will do what ever I can to get back to you every night.” His voice almost pleading.

I step forward, a small smile on my lips, my heart beating heavily in my chest. Absolutely terrified of what I’m about to do. There was no going back from this. I take another step forward, barely any space between Brennan and I, having to crane my neck to look him in the eye.

”Then I won’t. I won’t push you away.”

Brennan’s shoulders sag at my words, letting out a breath I don’t think he realised he was holding in. His hands moving to cup my cheeks. “Then prove it.” He whispers, his thumb gently rubbing across my cheek.

I’d kissed Brennan many times before. But as I reach up and wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him down into a kiss….. It feels different. My heart beating fast, as if this was the first time we’d kissed. But even though this wasn’t the first time we had kissed, this was our first real kiss. Not as friends hooking up. No. We we’re more now. I wouldn’t push Brennan away anymore.

[marvelsmylife]

What could’ve been

Pairing: Brennan Sorrengail x reader

Prompt: “Being around you physically hurts”

a/n Here's a little angsty story for you. Let me know if you guys would be interested in a part two. Also, I am accepting fourth wing requests.

warning: angst angst ANGST ! ! ! ! !

Fourth Wing Masterlist

Request

Having a crush on your best friend’s older brother is normal, right? That is what you told yourself growing up. You’ve been best friends with Mira since you were children, and you’ve had the world’s biggest crush on Brennan for just as long. She knew about your crush on her older brother and would switch between teasing you about it and being grossed out at the thought of her best friend and brother dating.

Your world came crashing down when you got the news that Brennan was killed during the battle with the rebellion. You spent years mourning his death and found yourself regretting not telling him about your feelings towards him. You often found yourself wishing you could see him one last time so you could at least confess your feelings.

So seeing him alive after assuming he was dead for six would bring you joy right? Nope. Not in the slightest. “Y/n, it’s good to see you again,” Brennan said your name with such ease it caused you to feel physically sick.

He could tell as well and started approaching you. “Don’t,” you held up your hand to stop him, “I-” but you left running before finishing your sentence.

Against his better judgment, Brennan followed after you. A part of him thought you would be happy to see him after so long. Then again, he also had to remind himself that you might be mad at him for lying about being dead for six years.

After a few minutes, Brennan finally found you sitting in an empty hallway. “Y/n,” Brennan called out and caused you to tense, “I know this is a lot to process, but please let me explain.”

Brennan took you into his office, where he proceeded to explain to you how he was still alive and why he didn’t return home after he healed. While you were still furious about him not informing you or his family that he was still alive, you understood.

By the end, you were still a crying mess, but you weren’t as angry with him as before. “I’m sorry, but missed you,” you cried into his chest.

“It’s ok,” Brennan reassured you before pulling you back and wiping away your tears. That’s when he decided to lean in and kiss you. His fingers disappeared into your hair and deepened the kiss. 

You allowed yourself to enjoy the kiss you so desperately wanted growing up until you came to your senses and pulled away. “Why did you do that?” You whispered.

“Do what?” Brennan asked in a confused tone, his eyes looked at you concerned. He was going to lean in and kiss you again, but you moved your head to prevent him from trying again. 

You felt like you were going to throw up while you processed everything that happened within such a small timeframe. Looking into his eyes, you could see he was concerned, “Why did you kiss me? Why now?”

Brennan remained silent for several minutes while he thought of a response, “I don’t know. I just thought that since you had a crush on me growing up-“

“Wait, you knew?” You looked at him stunned.

Brennan remained silent, realizing he fuck up. “Yes, I knew,” Brennan answered, “You weren’t subtle with your crush.”

Brennan thought that would bring a smile to your face, but all it did was make you more upset. “If you knew then, why didn’t you say anything? Why did you make me suffer by wondering if you liked me or not?”

“I was too old for you,” Brennan replied, even though he knew that was a lie. You and Mira were the same age, and Brennan was only three years older than her, “Plus, you’re Mira’s best friend. I couldn’t date her best friend.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at Brennan’s explanation, which caused Brennan to wince, “Yet you’re ok with kissing me now? Gods, I have to get out of here.”

“Don’t go,” Brennan begged as he tried to reach for you, but you just shook him off, “Please don’t go. I need you here. I need to know you’re safe.”

“I can’t. Being around you physically hurts right now. Of course, I'm not leaving Aretia, but I can’t be around you right now. Please don’t approach me until I’m ready.”

All Brennan could do was nod as he watched you leave his office. As soon as the door shut, he started shaking uncontrollably. Brennan didn’t even realize he was shaking until he felt Violet’s hands on top of his. He wanted to ask her how she managed to enter his office without him noticing, but all that came out was: “Do you think she’ll ever forgive me for not telling her that I knew she had a crush on me growing up?”

“I don’t know,” Violet answered honestly, “She really loved Bren. She kept telling us she regretted not telling you how she felt about you. It took her three years to recover, and even then, I feel like a part of her died with you that day.”

Brennan knew he needed to give you space to process everything that was going on. He hated himself for not confessing that he knew about your crush on him. What he hated the most was that he couldn’t tell you that he loved you as well because you would assume he was saying it out of pity. The only thing Brennan could do now was wait for you to come around.

[empire-if]

DEMO (TBA)

After rising to the top do you have what it takes to stay there? Do you even want to?

Hollywood; the crown jewel of California. An unconquerable entity that stands the test of time despite various setbacks. Rising to the top was a long and arduous journey but you have done just that.

Sitting upon your throne of broken promises and fanciful lies— all of them being gilded in gold. Leaving behind your past without a second glance back. Childish merriment was replaced with the flashing lights of cameras. Grass-stained jeans turning to designer clothes. You never wanted to go back to what you used to be.

That is until the pesky problems of death threats start to become an actual concern. To your team and the authorities at least.

Meaning you have to leave behind your mansion in the hills for your parents two bedroom house in Airedale, Maine.

How are you going to deal with your past and present clashing? And what will you do about someone wanting you dead?

Empire is Rated 18+ for explicit language, sexual themes, drug/alcohol use, questionable behavior, mentions of murder, and more.

♛ FEATURES ♛

Customizable MC: name, sexuality, gender, appearance, vices, your mansion, and more as things begin to crop up within the story.

Choose what type of Star you have been to the public-- have you been the media's darling or more of black sheep? With a smattering of vices that have helped you cope with the stress of Hollywood.

Have you done something so horrible that it warrants someone wanting you dead? Was your last performance truly that bad? Or is it something a bit closer to home?

Romance 1 of 5 options that will offer something unique. Will you fall for your old sweetheart again; did you ever stop loving them? Or will you fall for the pesky journalist that is coming just a little too close for comfort? Time will tell.

Will your empire, the one you’ve fought so hard for, crumble into dust? Or will you rise above it all?

♛ THE ROs ♛

Scott/Scarlett Frost ♛ He/Him or She/Her ♛ 29 ♛

Your high school sweetheart/ex-fiancé has since become a veterinarian in the small town of Airedale. Light blue eyes still shining with the same warmth as you remember. Though it was a gaze filled with understandable weariness.

Edward/Elizabeth Holland ♛ He/Him or She/Her ♛ 30 ♛

Your costar from your most recent film. Who also happens to be your current PR significant other. Unfortunately, that also means that they have to come with you to not completely ruin everything you both have been implementing. You just hope everything ends up working out all right.

Victor/Victoria Swann ♛ He/Him or She/Her ♛ 29 ♛

The bad kid turned Deputy Sheriff in the small town of Airedale. A sight that you weren’t expecting to see at all when returning. Nor were expecting the reaction you got from them when they finally saw you once again.

Carter Griffith ♛ He/Him or She/Her ♛ 28 ♛

An old family friend has come to town for your class reunion; because of course, your reunion has to be whenever you’re forced to come back. Sly remarks and amused smiles are still a common entity with Carter. You wouldn’t expect anything less from them though.

Taylor Brennan ♛ He/Him or She/Her ♛ 28 ♛

The journalist that’s getting a little too close for comfort but maybe that’s your own fault too. You just have to make sure that you don’t let anything too detrimental slip out. As bad press wouldn’t be the worst thing you’d have to worry about then.

[arainywriter]

this is going to probably be the longest post of my life, and i HATE getting into fandom discourse which is why i don't usually write anything about fandom discourse, but i just want to address some things about our favorite rat grinders so if you want to read, click below

as someone who loves the rat grinders as nuanced antagonists who are also teenagers, i think the rat grinders before they ever joined in on porter and jace's plan were assholes.

i think they were the quiet bullies, the mean people who you never notice until they are mean to you, the ones who seem nice and respectable up close, but talk shit about you the minute you're gone.

i think most of them (kipperlilly in particular) were looking for a reason to be bad. and i know we might not ever get this confirmation, but based off kipperlilly's file and other moments with the trg, i think it's possible this is correct.

they were assholes who needed a reason to be even bigger, more dangerous assholes and most of them took it. and yes, it was either that or be dead, but i want you to know that sometimes that's not even a question. sometimes you don't even care about the other option, you just want to rage.

i think the one time all of them or maybe some of them even thought that what they were doing could be was when lucy died. and that's when i feel bad for them. they had to lock in right there because they all had made a decision, and they all needed to continue it. that's the manipulation.

i know they are kids. they are just teenagers. i work with teens, and guys, let me tell you, some teenagers are assholes. and i don't mean say a funny mean joke asshole, i mean literally going to grow up and be a shitty person asshole. i think some of the rat grinders were those kind of teens.

did they deserve to be redeemed? i think some of them do. i think buddy has a big shot at being redeemed, and i genuinely hated that he died in the last stand and had to make that decision. i think ally is going to try if they can. i think mary ann might be redeemed.

but also, you guys have to remember that this is dnd. i don't think many of you have played dnd before, or if you have you're just really conscientious about everything you do. because as a dm who has played dnd and has made nuanced antagonists, your players are gonna straight up kill them.

brennan knows that. i'm 100% sure he knows that. this isn't scripted. the intrepid heroes aren't thinking about what the fans want every time they play. in dnd, ESPECIALLY in brennan's dnd, it's kill or be killed.

the rat grinder's weren't going to use non-lethal attacks. they were going to kill the bad kids, and they were going to be UNNATURALLY happy throughout it all. they were going to spit in their faces and roast marshmallows on their bodies. they were going to not feel guilty.

sound familiar?

i think the bad kids have been nice to the rat grinders since day one. not kind, nice. they've been polite and nice to them, not going all in until this fight. if this fight happened before the finale, i think the rat grinders would have had more time to be redeemed (ex. see Ragh in season 1 who def would have died in the finale battle if the bad kids hadn't fought him earlier). but the bad kids are stressed and done.

there is no time to be polite and nice when the world is going to end.

i know you liked these characters. i did too. i'm sad to see them go, but even when someone is nuanced and could be redeemed, the person they were a piece of shit to doesn't have to be the one to redeem them. they don't have to be the one to keep them alive and make sure they only get taken the police instead of dead. cause trg would have gone to jail.

aelwyn did. so would they.

people you've wronged don't owe you forgiveness or redemption. trg didn't wrong tbk that bad, but they made them angry, they tried to kill them, and they're probably almost close to ending the world.

i'll miss you rat grinders. you guys were perfect narrative foils, but it was always going to end like this.

now stop being absolute assholes to the intrepid heroes just cause they didn't play how you wanted.

love this fandom, and yeah, d20 get shit wrong sometimes. always make sure to critique your favorite piece of media.

but at the end of the day, this isn't your table to play dnd at. this is theirs and they are having fun. why don't you go and play as the rat grinders in your home game and give them the ending they deserve, or make fanfiction about it?

put your anger into that.

[ivyembracertifiedbitch]

Embrafrost (BLeeM lied to you)

So! Brennan lied to all of us, so let me tell you what actually happened here.

Couple things to keep in mind, Ivy is curating her mean girl reputation 110% at all times, and because her and Oisín are executing a plot, they can't draw too much attention to themselves (and someone has to stay at the ping pong table). Also, Lucy's proclaimed dead right now, and they don't want to draw attention to her being revived (especially if she came back with a rage star).

Ivy notices "Lucy" (and Oisín doesn't). A 19's a pretty high roll, and with a 19, Oisín doesn't notice "Lucy", which means that on a lower roll, he would've noticed (and possibly caused some trouble). Ivy sees a hint of blue, and turns around to find "Lucy", and meets her gaze. (Used to looking for Lucy, perhaps?)

Ivy's microexpressions. Do not listen to Brennan. Do not listen to the IH. Hold my hand, come with me, let me show you the truth. Ivy's facial journey is eyebrows up, then a slow blink as her face relaxes into a slow smile. The nonplussedness that Emily read in her face would not show like that. It would be just as easy to be surprised and then drop her eyebrows and keep her face straight. That's not what's happening here. When her face relaxes, I know the camera turns away (trust me, I know, I'm pissed to all hell about it), but you can see the edges of her lips start to turn up, in what looks like the start of a smile!

Ivy's interaction with "Lucy." "Lucy" waves to Ivy and ducks away, so from Ivy's pov, "Lucy" has come back to life, and reached out to her, but wants to meet somewhere not around people. Ivy asks if it's cool that they meet up now, and Lucy agrees. Here's the important part, pay close attention! She doesn't tell Oisín. She doesn't tell her best friend, who we know she's close with! She doesn't tell him that Lucy's here, she doesn't tell him where she's going, she just says she's done and walks away. I rotate that in my mind a lot.

So basically, Brennan and the IH lied to you, and actually this is 90% of my propaganda for Lucy/Ivy, please see the truth. Like, I said in my tags on @ratgrinders post, to just see your not-dead friend and go 'oh! oh. :) I'll catch you up on what you missed' like. That's not Mean Girl! That's not Bitch! That's just Ivy! She is a hater and I love every moment where she hates someone, but that's not what this is. This is a moment of softness in the middle of Everything.