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dullgecko · 3 days

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Riz yawned, stretching his arms out in front of him as he leaned on his office desk. Wincing when his back creaked painfully because of the position he’d been hunched in for the last few hours and pushing the stretch just a little further until the tension released with a satisfying pop. He was done finally, his laptop getting shut down now that the email to his client had been sent. He didn’t particularly enjoy cheating spouse cases but this had been a good one at least, several weeks of tailing his target leading to the discovery that the ‘cheating husband’ had in fact been working a few extra shifts in order to surprise his wife with a long wished-for vacation.

The rogue didn’t ruin the surprise, knowing that the wife was currently at dinner with her husband where he was planning to gift her the tickets. She’d find the evidence and his case notes in her inbox when she got home, which should alleviate any extra fears that he’d been having a fling on the side.

He felt satisfied with a job well done, Riz pushing away from his desk and grabbing the file so he could go store it with his other ‘completed’ ones out the back of the office. He puttered around for a little while longer, cleaning up coffee mugs and balls of screwed up paper on the floor before heading for the door. Riz liked being in his office but it had been a couple of days and he really wanted to go home, have a shower and get something decent to eat.

It didn’t take long for him to walk home, key sliding into the lock as he let himself in before shutting the door behind him. His mom wasn’t home so he pulled out his crystal and shot her a text to let her know he was in, the rogue shucking his vest and button up to hang them in his closet before taking a shower and getting changed into some more comfortable casual clothes. Riz ending up curled up in the corner of the couch against the wall facing the door in a pair of comfortable track pants and one of the Sig Fig shirts from his growing collection in his closet.

He hadn’t found any food in the fridge when he went to get something to eat though, but his recent client had paid decently well and he was craving some takeaway form the halfling place across town. He could afford to spring for delivery for once so he texted his mom asking if she wanted him to order extra for her to eat when she got home. Opening his fantasy-gram to scroll through his friends more recent photos while he waited for her to answer.

Riz was still waiting twenty minutes later so he sent her another text, flicking to the notes app to check her schedule since he was sure she should be free at the moment. When his stomach grumbled loudly he decided he’d just order extra anyway, figuring she was probably out with Gortholax since she hadn’t expected him to be home tonight.

He nearly dropped his crystal when his front door suddenly flew open, Riz not having noticed someone unlocking it since he was so engrossed in the food-ordering app in front of him. Hand instinctively reaching for his arcubus that he always kept within arms reach even when sleeping and swinging it around to point at the intruder. Lowering his arm with a relieved sigh when he noticed it was just Fabian standing in the light from the hallway, the fighter spotting him on the couch and not looking at all worried about the weapon pointed in his direction.

“THERE you are, excellent. We have to go immediately.” The fighter strode into the apartment as if he owned the place, immediately entering Riz’s room and grabbing his briefcase, shoes and vest which got tossed inside before he came back into the living room. Riz only having about two seconds to be surprised when he was unceremoniously scooped up, thrown over Fabians shoulder and hauled out of the apartment without another word.

“Fabian what the fuck?” Riz squirmed, thumping the fighter in the back with the butt of his arcubus while Fabian awkwardly juggled both the goblin and his briefcase to shove his sword inside as well. The door to the apartment getting locked behind them as he was carried at almost a jog down several flights of stairs and out into the cold night air. It was still light when Riz had gotten home but the sun had obviously set in the meantime.

“I said we have to go. Stop squirming.” The half elf shifted Riz around on his shoulder so he could strap his briefcase to the back of the Hangman, sputtering when the goblin wacked him in the face intentionally with his tail by way of protest.

“You couldn’t give me three seconds. I’m not even dressed.” Riz wanted to clamber up onto the fighters shoulders like usual, but without his shoes on he knew he’d cause damage with his claws so he didn’t attempt it.

“No. No time, you’re dressed fine.” He plopped the goblin down on the rear of the bike, the Hangman revving loudly as Fabian also got on and quietly told it to shut up. Riz scrambling to hold on as they were very suddenly moving and picking up speed, the rogue wrapping his arms around Fabians middle and digging his claws in slightly in surprise.

“Where are we going?” Riz tried to shout over the sound of the wind, hiding his face against the half elfs back and clinging tighter as he took the corners far too fast.

“You’ll find out.”

“Why are we in such a HURRY.”

“You’ll find out.” Fabian laughed, popping the Hangman into a wheelie on straighter stretch of road. The movement making Riz’s stomach drop as he balled up his fists to keep his claws tucked away, not wanting to accidentally slash open his friends stomach in a panic. Fabian was clearly enjoying himself keeping Riz in the dark, but it was making his anxiety levels spike dangerously.

Riz was shaking slighty from adrenaline when they finally pulled up outside Mordred Manor, Fabian having to untangle his arms when he didn’t let go immediately when the bike pulled to a stop. The goblin getting hefted up under his arm like a sack of potatos as the fighter retrieved his briefcase and strode through the front door.

“I have retrieved The Ball, he was in his apartment.” Fabian announced to the house at large as he entered the living room, Riz making a noise of discontentment at being hauled around like luggage and flicking his tail.

“All of that for a sleepover Fabian?” Rizz hissed at him when he noticed that the living room was draped floor-to-ceiling with sheets, someone having clearly gone overboard when building a blanket fort on the floor to encase the television. “I’m tired dude, I was like an hour away from actually sleeping at home tonight.”

“Yes well, tonight is important.” Fabian tossed the briefcase into the blanket fort, the bag landing with a thump on the couch. Still not releasing Riz from his grapple as he turned and headed for the kitchen instead. Riz lifting his head and making a little chirp of surprise in goblin when he spotted his mom standing on a stool near the counter.

“Mom? What?”

“Hi sweetie. You forgot again didn’t you?” Sklonda gave her son a fond smile, hopping off the counter and coming over to press their foreheads together. It was a bit awkward given Fabian was still carrying him under one arm but Riz still flicked his tail from side to side happily.

“Forgot what? Was I supposed to do something today it wasn’t on my calendar?” He wriggled, reaching into his pocket to pull out his crystal and check.

“Riz honey, it’s your birthday.”

“Oh… wait isn’t that…” He scrolled through the calendar again, squinting at the date and letting out a defeated sigh before flopping limp in Fabians grip. Tail and arms hanging loose as he stared at the floor. “Yeah I guess I did forget.”

“Well then, now that you’re aware.” Fabian laughed, shifting his grip so that Riz was perched on his shoulders instead. “We have plans. Everyone is waiting out back with food and cake, then it’s a quiet night of movie marathoning.”

“That sounds like just a normal sleepover… but with cake.” Riz shifted to get comfortable, shoving his crystal back in his pocket. His tail flicking from side to side happily where it was hanging down Fabians back.

“Yes well, we figured you’d prefer something a little more low key than my birthday parties…. Though I’m sure we could find you a dragon or two to kill if that’s more your speed.”

“No… I think this is perfect. Thanks.”

#fantasy high #riz gukgak #bad kids #fabian seacaster

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queeoretician · 1 year

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Initial thoughts on The Unwanted Guest below the cut:

Well, damn. There sure is a lot going on here, and I'm all about it.

Front and centre is the concept of the permeability of the soul, and there's so damn much to chew on around that. Then we have Dulcie! Dulcie! She and Pal finally get to talk, both dead but still kicking! She would have liked Gideon! And we get more direct insight into Ianthe's psychology, which is a nasty little treat.

The first place my mind went was to Paul - if Pal and Cam were already experiencing memory transference, then maybe they saw some kind of soul merger as inevitable, and that was another push towards doing it intentionally, doing it right. But writing it down now I'm less sure of that inference. And the fact that Pal and Dulcie got to talk, really talk, was both wonderful and all the more bittersweet if (I'm assuming) Pal's and Cam's individual souls no longer exist to reunite with Dulcie in Alecto. I have to say, when I first read Nona I didn't really get why people found the birth of Paul to be so sad, but I've come around on it since then. (I should write more about that sometime...)

Regarding the permeability of Ianthe's soul, one thing that occurred to me is that her genderfuckery vibes over the past two books are probably not Ianthe Tridentarius's identity, but a new thing formed of the (imbalanced) gestalt that is Ianthe Naberius. I really hope Alecto gives us more on gender and lyctorhood and soul permeability! I imagine this is all the more jarring for Ianthe with how she's so deeply anchored to her relationship with Corona, to find her ego boundaries to be permeable in relation to Babs. I firmly believe her shell-shocked reaction to the birth of Paul was at least in part her thinking "oh shit, did I eat the wrong person?" If she had wanted this kind of erosion of self with anyone (and I'm not sure she did), it would have been Corona. Having it happen with Babs by accident is a real slap in the face.

Which brings me back to my wild theory for Alecto - Corona will (at least try to) pull a Paul with Judith, and Ianthe will utterly lose her shit. This story really underscored just how little Ianthe understands her sister, which we already saw some of in the embassy scene. Sure, Corona isn't the flawless sword hand that Babs was, but in BoE she's shown herself to be a canny operator and a decent fighter, which Ianthe is steadfastly in denial of. At the end of the day I believe the story of Ianthe will be of someone who loved without understanding, who put her love up on a pedestal and at the same time belittled her as someone both more and less than she actually was.

Another thing that I latched onto was the argument about whether lyctors' cavaliers' souls provide a truly perpetual source of energy or not. Ianthe was pretty adamant that they do, but that honestly came across as arrogance or bravado. There's a strong parallel between lyctoral power and nuclear power, and all kinds of nuclear activity eventually reach a point past which they no longer emit appreciable energy, so I feel confident in saying that lyctoral power also diminishes over a long enough timespan. I'm less sure of whether this will come up in Alecto, though - I would be quite surprised if we saw a 100,000-year timeskip (but if we did that could be super fucking interesting).

Back to more direct applications of soul permeability, I have to imagine there's been some exchange of something between Jod and Alecto, at least before he locked her in the Tomb. That could go in all kinds of interesting directions that I haven't yet had a chance to contemplate adequately.

Speaking of Alecto, the John chapters of Nona seem like a pretty clear case of transference between her and Harrow. I wonder - were those happening concurrently with the Nona chapters? If so, it would make for a nice symmetry between Harrow and Alecto/Nona.

Either way, we've got a gross messy soul transference hookup graph with Gideon<-->Harrow<-->Alecto<-->John (gross) - I'm dying to know more about what this means for each of them (especially with Tazmuir's "if Gideon's soul is a happy meal" line from this interview).

So as usual, Aaaaaaa there's so much to chew on and so much more I want to know and I can't wait for Alecto aaaaaa...

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markrosewater · 1 year

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Different user, but on the topic of top down design in UB cards, one thing that stands out to me is how unique the card feels and how well its abiilites both establish it as a homage to an existing character and a unique, exciting game piece in Magic the Gathering

The Street Fighter Secret Lair cards are some of the best examples of this with the untap symbol on Ryu mirroring the quarter-circle input and the way the card working essentially letting you pull off a special cancel in card form. It took fairly simple abilities and stretched them into a way that was mechanically unique and filled a space that isn't filled by other cards.

Whereas I look at a card like Michonne from TWD Secret Lair and while there are clear allusions to Michonne's character, it's nothing that feels especially Michonne, let alone exciting as a card. She's equipment matters (in a color combo that really doesn't have much for that) and even the equipment she was printed alongside belongs to a different character (whose card has no benefit from being equipped with it at all), she doesn't do much that's exciting besides be a decent body in combat, it doesn't feel like you get anything special from playing Michonne mechanically, leaving her somewhat lackluster when compared to even other cards from her same Secret Lair, let alone some of the high points of UB design. You can tell Michone is a top down design, but nothing feels all that exciting about her or novel and while her abilities do harken back to her lore and character, they don't do much to excite the player. At least that's my perspective on it, it definitely is a very subjective topic.

I designed Michonne (and all the Walking Dead cards) so I can get into the specifics. At the time, we were restricted to evergreen abilities, so I had a lot less paint metaphorically to work with. (Glenn having his ability listed as skulk happened in development.)

The card represents very early Michonne, so she comes with her two zombies, which were a key part of her early appearance. Michonne starts as a loner and she has two Zombies on leashes that she uses as protection. Those two Zombies play heavily into her backstory.

I made her an equipment matters creature because her defining character, especially in her early appearance, was her mastery of her sword. She’s black/green because I was trying to capture the wild nature, out for herself, early version of Michonne.

I like pushing themes to colors that don’t traditionally do it as it forces players to have to make a new deck rather than just plug into a premade deck. There are plenty of available equipment for a black/green deck.

Lucille was never meant to go with Michonne. It was just a cool object from the show that we liked as the secret card.

Her cost and power/toughness were up to play design to figure out. I took a stab, but that type of balance happens later.

I do appreciate that we later dropped the evergreen restriction as that allows for a lot more nuance of design, but I’m proud of Michonne’s design given the constraints I had to work of. I read the Walking Dead comic, long before the TV show, and I spent a lot of time getting the essence of the characters.

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cthulhuwritesstuff · 1 year

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I could not help myself. Helms is such a bratty babygirl in the live action.

Drabble

Theme: Helmeppo’s pov when he meets Zoro

(What happens between the four walls of Helms’s room is up to imagination, interpretation, and wishes. But if the poor little Helmeppo doll could speak, I am sure they’d have one juicy story to tell)

The filthy tavern is decently occupied, the people might even call the place busy, and perhaps it is the perfect time to grab an excuse of a drink and find a piece of mind on the bottom of a glass - or several.

Helmeppo pushes the door like he is making a statement, suppressing a groan when he catches a glimpse of several white uniforms tailing him like dogs. Father always did have strange ways to show whatever he considers to be affection, and his obedient lackeys playing babysitter for Helmeppo was one of Father’s many questionable ways.

No matter. Helmeppo can’t bring himself to particularly care, since he’s been in a sour mood the whole morning regardless. Besides, he couldn’t deny that he enjoyed some extra attention. Especially on such a bad day.

First, his breakfasts was an overcooked disaster.

Secondly, his request to be pushed up the Marine ranks just because he wishes for it was denied once more and that really put a wrench in Helmeppo already fragile mood.

Thirdly, and most importantly, he is bored. Utterly so. This godforsaken town Father is so attached to is practically the most boring place Helmeppo had ever had the tragedy of walking into. And he is supposed to stay there for the unforeseeable future - now that is just a travesty at its finest.

By all means, Helmeppo is devastated and he makes his way toward the bar, disregarding anyone and anything in his way to get a glass of something more bitter than his current state of mind.

The wretched girl that carelessly walks into him is what sparks the fuse, but the green-haired idiot with three swords at his hip (what an absolute monstrous git) is what causes Helmeppo to finally explode like a stick of dynamite.

What was it that he said?

“A shithead Marine with a bad haircut.”

Well, that’s rich. Coming from a man with a cactus on his head.

The bigger problem than the obvious lack of style is: the green-haired menace with no manners is a wickedly good fighter. No matter how much that pains Helmeppo to admit. Despite the foul mouth on the cactus musketeer, he is ruthless, and doesn’t even seem to blink at the prospect of beating up a whole group of Marines. Helmeppo decides very quickly upon their meeting that he hates him.

It doesn’t take long for the samurai of Kelptown to be subdued due to sheer numbers, and Helmeppo can’t help but preen at the sight of him seething in anger. There’s just something endlessly satisfying watching those eyes gleam dangerously. And the growling - the animal.

Helmeppo denies that it makes him shiver.

As they exit the tavern he notices a girl with orange hair fumbling with the buttons of an unconscious Marine but the swordsman in their custody says something nasty about Helmeppo’s choice of wardrobe and he gets distracted enough to not make a note of the girl.

How dare that hamaki wearing zucchini speak to Helmeppo in such a way anyway?

What an absolute prick.

—

Roronoa Zoro is a bounty hunter that kills pirates for cash and beats up Marines in taverns.

Yes, his name is Roronoa Zoro.

What a mouthful.

Helmeppo can’t help but sneer at him as Father gives one of his grand speeches about his power and status and blah blah blah, the green-haired, so called Demon of the East, threatens Helmeppo’s life and the blond is absolutely furious.

His outburst earns him a sturdy slap across the face which he resents but he did expect it and as Helmeppo rises to his feet, he hears his Father praise the beast that had assaulted him.

Helmeppo’s anger only worsens.

—

Wado is a gorgeous sword.

What does a growling, alcoholic excuse for a palm tree even know what to do with a sword like this one? The idiot must have stolen it. It belongs in someone else’s hands, surely. Someone with more grace, with style, poise- someone a bit more appreciation for the beauty and grace that is Wado.

Indeed.

So Helmeppo indulges - quite dramatically so - in the grace that is the perfectly balanced blade. He already took the sword to flash it in front of the green-haired beast tied up in the yard and it was exhilarating to say the least- the way Zoro barked at him. Animal, truly. Helmeppo flinches, but it’s for a very specific reason: this is the first time he’d seen the swordsman genuinely angry.

Huh…

Helmeppo contemplates as his eyes travel up and down the blade back where it’s safe from the glaring beastly eyes - seriously what is it with that intense staring - and he notices that Wado is an entirely well-kept sword. Surprisingly. Helmeppo truly wouldn’t pin Roronoa Zoro to be a careful kind.

He pauses, head tilting to the side and grabs a piece of parchment off his desk. Worth testing.

The blade cuts through the parchment like butter, clean and quick, causing Helmeppo’s breath to catch.

Very well-kept sword.

The Zoro guy sure is full of surprises.

—

It isn’t one of his proudest moments the way he yelps and stiffens at the sight of the swordsman barging through the door of his room, and it is definitely a moment that Helmeppo learns embarrassment is incapable of killing a person. Because, he naked as the day he was born, with a rag doll of his liking in one hand and the Wado in the other. In front of Roronoa fucking Zoro and his deadly glare, no less. Now truly, if there ever were an occurrence Helmeppo might have wished to be swallowed by the ground and disappear, it is definitely this moment right here, but Gods do not hear his panicked prayers.

Zoro doesn’t give him a moment of consideration before he walks across the room and grabs Wado by her hilt. Helmeppo wheezes out the question,

“Are you going to kill me?”

“No,” Zoro grunts inches away from his face and Helmeppo swallows, “I have something much better in mind.”

Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear…

Here we go.

The beast is about to unman Helmeppo, surely.

He is about to cut off a piece of him.

What else is to expect from someone as vicious, dangerous, and— huh, he does have quite a jawline there - Roronoa Zoro?

#writing #drabble #helmeppo #zoro #one piece #fanfic

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miracleweaponhunt · 2 months

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Miracle Weapon Hunt Chapter 54: Plan B

The high ranking Legion members stood stunned as Cheng struggled to get up. Zawadi swapped him with a random legion member behind him, who took a metallic punch from Zach straight into the face.

"Ignore him, he's not important!" Cheng yelled, trying to cover up his bloody nose. "Kill the others!"

As soon as he gave the order, the fifty or so Legion members and their five top ranked commanders rushed out to attack everyone left in the arena. They passed Zach, who knocked three out as they tried to pass him.

Cassandra put her fists up as soon as five people rushed to attack her, alongside Serafina.

"She can heal herself! So remember to go crazy!"

The five people all began brandishing weapons. Two wielding daggers, one with an axe, one with a sword, and one sticking with their fists. Besides the axe, none of the weapons were in good condition. All rusted, with the axe looking especially bad. She quickly landed a punch towards the fist fighter, grabbing them and using them as a human shield towards one of the dagger user. The screams rang out as the pugilist got a knife in their midsection, only stopping when Cassandra kicked them in the back and left them to bleed on their stomach above the first dagger user. She ducked down below the swing of the second dagger, kicking it out of the users hands. The axe user unleashed a clumsy swing, which any decent axe user could see past. She got behind them and issued an elbow strike to their back, causing them to drop the axe. She picked the axe up, slicing the rusty sword in half with a single mediocre cleave. As more surrounded her, Luca and Willow both got behind her.

"Okay, you got this?"

Luca didn't respond, merely leaping forward in an upwards arc with one sword, effortlessly cutting through Serafina, who jumped over the shoulders of two Legion members to get to them. She turned to dust, only for six more clones to attack. Two each, but Jade's clones all dove in and tackled the real one to the ground, dissolving the rest of them into a trail of dust that led to her. Two Jade clones hoisted her into the air, while two more hoisted the real Jade upwards to land an airborne uppercut directly into Serafina's stomach. But she was quickly swapped with a random Legion member before she could hit the ground. Einer quickly dove in and froze them to the wall, effortlessly dodging the spear being thrusted behind him, hoisting the now terrified holder to match eyes, and quickly adding them to the wall. He and Hikaru then faced Zawadi, who clapped his hands together in excitement. Hikaru drew a ring in the air, which quickly surged into a ring of electricity in front of them, they pushed it towards Zawadi with one mighty push, and he quickly clapped his hands to swap with Einer. Einer already ducked, touching the ground to create a trail of ice for Ziwadi, who barely managed to escape it. He looked at Einer. He looked more aggressive then he did a moment ago, diving towards Einer and throwing a punch. Einer coated his left arm in ice and blocked the attack, giving Hikaru the time to draw another above him and shove it downwards, causing Ziwadi to seize up, letting Einer trap him in a wave of ice.

The new girl, Daciana, was effortlessly facing off against Fiorella, Adrianna, and Capri. She summoned a two handed double sided blade, similar to the ceremonial blades used in ShiShi performances, only she was using it to it's full potential. She weaved through the two of them with ease, dancing with her blade through the crowds as they all got more and more frustrated. Adrianna tried her best to weave her own path to her face, but she'd quickly throw her off balance and throw them to the hungry yet scared Legion members. They'd try to fight her, but she'd viscously leave them with broken noses.

"Girls, step down." Fiorella requested. "Make sure I'm not hit."

The girls did as asked, with Fiorella swinging her axe in a circle around her until it clashed against Daciana's sword. The two of them exchanged blows without any side managing to land a solid hit. But Fiorella de-summoned her weapon, getting into a handstand and barely managing to scrape past a swipe from Daciana's weapon. She leapt up off her hands, narrowly avoiding a panicked swipe from the blade that only managed to graze her leg. She stomped her head, quickly snapping her finger towards the others. Adrianna came in with her arms already covered, throwing a series of punches to a disoriented Daciana, which she was forced to block with a succession of rapid strikes. So by the time she saw her Legion soldiers running away, all she could do was look on in horror as the shadow on Capri's mallet slowly got smaller. She was quickly crushed underneath it, and her weapon was de-summoned. She stood up with desperate fists raised, and Adrianna landed a fully crystalized punch to her face. When the mallet was shrunk down to it's original size and Capri was ready to go back on the offensive, she quickly commanded the ten or so men surrounding her to attack them as she scrambled back on her feet to get back to Cheng.

"Adya!" Cheng yelled. "How are you doing?"

Adya was trying her best to dodge everything Ryland was throwing at her. She was quickly avoiding all manner of punches, each one getting more ferocious and erratic. Her only option was to unfreeze Rodrick and Siena, but neither of them sounded like good options. Rodrick would pull out something extremely useful, and Siena would boost Ryland and make the situation even worse. As Ryland grabbed the head of a random Legion soldier and threw them full force at her head, she came to the conclusion to clench her left fist, unfreezing Siena and setting a vortex just in front of her face. Ryland's fist got caught in it and stuck him in place, with three Legion soldiers getting behind him and kicking for good measure.

Cheng looked around at everything that was happening. No! The surprise attack was supposed to work better! We had a fifth of the Legion's forces working on it! He looked at Daciana, trying to keep the blood in her nose and quickly losing energy, Adya desperately trying to fight off her opponents, Ziwadi having to keep swapping out Legion members to save himself from the weapons attacks, and Serafina was doing the same with her clones, only she was looking much worse for wear.

"Okay, plan B!" He screamed.

Instantly, the vibe around the arena changed. Hordes of Legion members started scrambling towards the remaining ships, which Zach immediately jumped on and began tearing apart. Several of them started running towards the ships furthest away. The heroes all gave chase, tackling and taking down several remaining Legion members. But all the top fighters in the Legion managed to get onto one ship, which was quickly trying to take off. The three girls got into the living areas while the men watched outside. And just as nobody could reach them, a Legion grunt was swapped out with Cassandra.

"Wait, where am I-"

Cassandra could barely let out a confused sentence before four Legion members tackled her to the ground. Cheng smirked above her as he held out a pair of handcuffs and carefully applied them.

"Careful now." He said calmly, observing the other airships getting airborne around him. "As long as she's in one piece, we'll face no penalties for our mistakes."

Cassandra forced herself on her feet, headbutting the soldier who was trying to hold her down, running to the edge as the ship left the arena, and she stood before crowds of horrified onlookers. And the most horrified looking was Julian, who locked eyes with her as she was carried off.

"Cassandra!" He screamed at the top of his lungs, running underneath the airship, hoping a sudden surge of genius would explode into his mind. But the airship left his view before he could do anything.

He fell to his knees, the world beginning to spin as he lost the sensation from his legs and he hit the ground, defeated. The only thing his body still knew how to do was scream.

"Cassandra!"

Cheng looked over the deck of the ship, seeing a sole ship approaching Fightston. It looked important. A lone woman stood at the front of the ship, unsheathing a sword.

Mia Burri. Her gaze was coming into view, cutting through him. And he didn't feel like seeing what other cutting she was capable of. Cheng got everyone into the living area except Cassandra, who he pushed over in plain view of Mia.

"Everyone, get this going as fast as possible!"

Mia locked eyes with a desperate Cassandra, tearfully shouting something she couldn't hear over the wind. The ship was off limits. But she slowly pressed a hand on her sword, and with one hand wave, she had five astral copies of the swords ready to go. She sent the swords forwards with pinpoint precision, with each one hitting the engine of the ships it was aiming at, and each one fell below the clouds to the world below. The other ships all sped up at this sight, all blitzing past and attempting to ram her ship. She had to hold onto the railings for dear life, but she did make it out alive.

In the arena, everyone was checking up on each other. The gatekeepers were convening with their groups, and the Maximos were also seeing what was up. Arden and Roxanne exited the hotel to see for themselves what had happened.

"Hey, is everyone okay?" Samuel asked.

"They got Cassandra." Willow whispered, trying to suppress the maelstrom of emotion building up inside her.

"Wait, what?!" Roxanne asked, taking a panicked look around the arena. "Where's Julian?"

"He tried running after them." Willow said. "I don't know where he went."

Roxanne tried calling Julian. He answered, struggling to say anything through a haze of raspy noises. She eventually got his rough location, and Fiorella ran out of the arena to get him.

"So is everyone gone?" Adebayo asked.

"Think so." Caoimhe nodded.

"Anyone check the halls to the hotel?"

"For what, some straggler to get info from?"

Adebayo nodded calmly, going to the hallway he walked to get from the arena to the hotel. There was a figure approaching him. He couldn't make the figure out as they sauntered towards him. Adebayo casually rubbed his hands together, just in case. The figure raised their hand, emitting a blinding light. Adebayo put his hands to his chest to guard the attack, calling out for help. He forced himself to face the light, with one getting brighter in the middle for a brief second, before a beam of light shot straight through his heart. He let out one last scream for help as his consciousness faded.

Caoimhe and Capri ran into the room, seeing Adebayo's dead body.

And when they looked ahead, it was nothing but an empty hallway.

#my writing #writeblr #writing #creative writing #fantasy #webnovel #writers on tumblr #spilled ink

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danco110 · 2 years

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“You know, Elsie, you’ve come a long way from when you first came onstage just to heckle me, all those months ago.”

“Wow, thanks, Miss Rita! Means a lot, coming from you. You’re quite the fencer, don’t you know?”

The celebrity in question drew back her blade, narrowly parrying a swing from the advancing leonin. Not deterred by the sudden offensive, however, Rita smirked and ducked under another stab, inspecting Elsie’s elegant sword as she did so.

“Elsie dear, you simply must tell me where you found that blade! I could use a piece like that for signing my contracts…and for disposing of the ones I don’t like.”

“Well- Whoa!”

Elsie stumbled as Rita tripped her. The leonin only lost her footing briefly, however, as her tail wrapped around a nearby bannister and the fight continued.

“W-Well, I dunno whether Falco would want me blabbing about-”

“Oh, a Brokers trade secret,” Rita huffed with some disappointment, as she leaned past Elsie’s riposte and gently tapped the leonin in the stomach. “Never mind, then. I know how you lawyers are; sticklers for the rules and all that.”

Elsie relaxed her stance, and frowned at the spot on her suit jacket where Rita had scored a hit. “Yeah, sorry, but you’re right. Rules are rules. Still, though, I feel like we put on quite the show tonight, huh?”

“Oh, for sure! Just listen to our lovely audience, darling!”

Rita pushed Elsie’s shoulder so the other fencer was facing the stands. The crowd was going wild for the fencers, throwing coins and roses onto the stage.

“As always, Miss Rita,” Elsie chimed, “it’s an honor working with you!”

“And the same to you, dear,” Rita smiled.

[Elsie interrupted Rita’s first performance as a heckler and promptly lost a bout of fencing, embarrassingly quickly. Since then, the leonin has taken it upon herself to work on her form, and has become a decent fighter in her own right, with a much more level temperament. Rita took notice of Elsie’s improvements in both skill and attitude, and is now taking her on as a kind of apprentice/assistant/heel role. Hey, you gotta start somewhere!]

#mtg #magic the gathering #new capenna #story bites

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archive-of-the-guild · 1 year

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@rubbcrhose asked: MEME; For Roako (Aptitude) 1, 4 (External Personality) 1, 5

ABCs of your OCs

A1. what are your oc’s natural abilities, things they’ve been doing since young?

Roako has been, and always will be, a natural-born warrior. In his D&D Verse he and his mother were exiled because of the experiments she was doing. When he finally ran away from her and found his former home destroyed, Roako crossed through some of the most dangerous areas trying to get to some semblance of decent civilization. The experience and hardship was essentially a trial-by-fire and turning him into a capable fighter.

For his HH/HB Verse, his parents raised him to be a warrior from the time he could talk! At first it was just training but soon enough he was on the battlefield right along with them and loving every minute of it!

A4. what things are they bad at?

Honestly? Social interaction. Roako understands three things above all others. Fighting, eating, and sex. Oftentimes when he meets someone new, his personality takes a bit to get used to. Mostly because he either goes straight to flirting or is partially antagonistic. If you can get past that, he's an ok guy but for most it's a bit much and can break quite a few friendships before they even start.

E1. does the way they do things portray their internal personality? E5. do they portray their personality intentionally or let people figure it out on their own?

These two i'm combining for the HH/HB Verse and the answer is.... It's situational? For the most part, yes. Roako is a very heart-on-his-sleave type of person and doesn't hide anything. HOWEVER while he doesn't hide his personality, if he considers you to be weaker or lesser, there will be times he will not treat you with the same respect that he would treat someone else. Especially if you are in a relationship with him. If you submit to him romantically, or more likely sexually, he will consider you to be more of a pet (in both the bedroom roleplay sense and as a being lesser than him). When he does this, it's not really all that noticeable at first because of how he treats those in that position. He cares for you, adores you, listens to you, lets you do as you please, and does everything in his power to make you WANT to stay with him. But if it's something that's in direct opposition to what he wants or how he acts, he will completely disregard anything you say.

The best example i could think of is with @the-blackened-dove with Roako's relationship with Roxxy. Roxxy loves him and he treats her with respect. Until Roxxy's mother comes into play. For Roako, this is simply another beautiful woman that he wants to spend some quality time with. For Roxxy, it's rude and disrespectful to her because it's her mother. Because Roako considers Roxxy to be in a lower position of respect to him, he's going to push back on it and cause her disrespect.

The best way to get him to see you as his equal or even as his superior, would be to kick his ass and put him in his new place in the relationship. This can be a double-edged sword though. If you put up a good fight and fight him to a standstill, he will treat you as an equal and you will be partners. Beating him means he will be more subservient, as in an almost 180 in terms of how he treats you. He'll be more quiet, more respectful, it would definitely be noticeable and he wouldn't seem the same as before.

His D&D and Modern Verses are just as transparent but treat others as equals so it's definitely verse-dependent. Still be his pet but with more actual respect lmao.

#OOC!#rubbcrhose #Memes!#Long Post!#I went all in on this one XD

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emangel2718 · 3 months

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I'm bored but too tired to do anything significant so here's my personal judgement on the Kirby Superstar (Ultra) abilities in the context of Helper to Hero

Fighter Fight is a unsurprisingly solid ability for the arena even if I find it slightly lacking in the main game. Its default attack is a rapid attack with decent reach that only requires leisurely tapping, though it can only be used on the ground. The button hold attack is strong and has even better reach, essentially being a projectile. The only issues are that when on the ground its attacks have some lag frames and the hold attack moves you forward slightly. Given its reach however this last point isn't ultimately that signficant.

Parasol Parasol is a very charming ability that unfortunately isn't all that strongly utilized in superstar. In the rest of the game it's honestly kind of meh and unfortunately the arena setting doesn't do it any favors. Its main problems are tied to the way superstar handles melee weapons. The primary attack immobilizes you and doesn't do that much damage but it does shoot a short-range spray of projectiles and is usable in midair. It has a special proximity attack which could maybe have some utility but it also immobilizes you for a good few seconds. Its dash attack launches you, which is a fantastic way to slam your face into enemies, and its down air not only launches you but keeps you vulnerable the entire time, garunteeing you smack your face if you hit them. It doesn't even boost your guard in any way from what I've noticed. The final nail in the coffin is that with the primary attack being basically the only attack you can use in the arena setting it's rather dull.

Ice Ice is surprisingly versatile. The primary attack immobilizes you but does decent dps and the jump attack move is not bad at dealing with airborne enemies. All of its attacks also freeze non-big-bosses which can be an annoyance in the miniboss rushes as the iceblocks have to be destroyed before the next one will spawn but can be very helpful for bosses with destructable projectiles as they become fairly damaging projectiles of your own which still do damage even if just bumped into. This also gives some extra utility to the dash move which continuously attacks in a circle around you, making it a good defense against destructable projectiles. Overall it's a decent ability.

Sword Sword… Sword is a classic Kirby ability and a solid option in the main game. It's highly controllable, moves fast, and slices and dices. Unfortunately in the arena context it's… bad. To start with it shares almost all of Parasol's problems, but then it makes some of them even worse. The main attack is a 3 part combo which effectively immobilizes you much more significantly, except that during the second part of the combo also moves you forward, far from enough to be useful but definitely enough to push you into contact damage range given that this combo attacks at melee range. It does have one other semi-viable attack which is its default air. It does a small amount of damage and gives you a backward impulse. Unfortunately the impulse isn't strong enough in either the upward direction to keep you airborne or the backward direction to protect you from enemies… walking toward you. One other problem with sword in general is that many of the tanky bosses feature significant invincibility periods after being hit by all but the most rapid hit abilities, severely hampering the damage output of all of its attacks. Granted this doesn't just hamper Sword but given all of its other shortcomings this really just totally murders it. With it being this bad it loses even more points for for being the only ability that 2 helpers have meaning you have to do at least 2 successful runs with it to unlock the secret bonus (which isn't that significant but still).

Mirror Mirror is one of like 2 abilities to give you a good dash attack for the arena. Not only does it not move you anywhere but it gives you a decently far extending and quite fast attack that makes you invulnerable while it's active to boot. Its main attack is a spray much like ice's and has the same benefits, minus the freezing, as well as the ability to reflect horizontally moving projectiles and a significantly better upward spread, making it usable even against some airborne enemies. Mirror even gives you a perfect guard. Its only real downside is that its dps is not the highest but it's not so low as for impatience to set in. Overall one of the better abilities.

Cutter Cutter, in theory, is a perfectly fine ability. It has a ranged primary attack that even boomerangs back for a second chance at a hit. It also has a fast melee combo that does pretty heavy damage. Unfortunately the thrown cutters are very lacking in damage and the combo is weirdly intermittent. Additionally most of the combo's damage comes from the very last part which can easily miss when an enemy is only on the ground very briefly. Did I mention you can only use the combo while in adjacency range on the ground? The fact that it's so close to being a good ability only makes it that much more frustrating.

Plasma Plasma is tied with Bomb for being my favorite ability in the main game. In Helper to Hero it also shares that tie with Suplex but we'll get to that later. Plasma essentially has it all: powerful, ranged, single shots; a good dps rapid attack; and a passive shield that's active even when you aren't guarding, though it is only effective against destructable projectiles. You also just hover as Plasma Wisp, only slowly dropping, making positioning and dodging even more straightforward. Plasma is, however, one of two abilities that I'm going to give a discomfort penalty to. With the charge up mechanic requiring you to rapidly press d-pad directions and its rapid dps attack requiring button mashing. I still consider it the lesser discomfort of the 2 as the d-pad scramble is definitely not as bad as button mashing and the ability is perfectly serviceable even without the rapid dps attack. It is also worth noting that it's entirely possible to get carried away with the d-pad scramble and run yourself into things.

Beam Beam's signature attack is, unsurprisingly, not that powerful but not to the point of invoking impatience. It also has some utility against some airborne enemies with its reach. The main star of the show though is the charge attack. It's powerful, infinite ranged, and it doesn't even take that long to charge. It doesn't even require a d-pad scramble. Its one downside is that you can't move while charging it and you drop like a rock. It's still very possible to hit airborne enemies with it but doing so requires first putting yourself significantly higher than them. The dash attacks also don't launch you and have some good reach but given the other moves in the toolkit they're kind of just there.

Bomb Bomb is frankly the most simply effective ability in the game. Its primary attack is highly spammable projectiles that do respectable damage, though it does very much notice invincibility periods. The bomb drop attack also has a surprising amount of utility, especially given how you can drop it without really interrupting your flying as Poppy Bro, making it a great way to put on some more damage while you dodge. Its only downsides are that it's maybe a bit too simply effective and when I said that it notices invincibility periods I meant that it really notices them.

Yoyo Yoyo is a melee ability with so much reach that it's basically a projectile and it does pretty respectable damage. It can also attack upward and downward though the reach is much less signifcant. Since it's able to destroy destructable projectiles it's not bad defensively either.

Wing Wing is the second ability that gets a discomfort penalty as its primary attack sends out a single short ranged projectile per button press and is the only move in Wing's entire arsenal that doesn't launch you in some direction. It also doesn't even do that much dps when you are mashing like crazy. Ultimately even the very nice flying controls don't get it out of the same tier as sword.

Ninja Ninja also has a mashing-based projectile as its default attack. Fortunately this one maxes out at a much more comfortable pace, has infinite range, and isn't Ninja's main dps. That title goes to the attack Ninja does when you hold the attack button, which strikes the enemy with a melee attack and then subsequently summons 4 giant slashes which do heavy damage, though only if used on the ground. The combination of potent burst damage and an infinite range melee attack makes Ninja a very solid choice for the arena.

Hammer Hammer is another melee only ability that would suffer the same problems if its dps weren't so… bonkers. The upswing in particular (though Bonkers still swings downard for it) is somewhat risky to use but does so much damage that it all but ends many fights immediately. It has my fastest time (on my most recent save) of 05:20:82, over 3 minutes faster than second place. This does unfortunately make runs somewhat unintersting aside from the ridiculousness of it.

Fire Fire is basically Ice but worse in every way. Its default move is basically the same but without freezing. Its midair move is a self-range attack with no invulnerability that can launch you if it hits the ground before expiring and all of its other moves are launches. It's sad to say that even the Kirby's Adventure form of Fire, which only had the breath attack, would probably be better than this incarnation for the arena.

Jet Jet is a strangely good ability given how it centers around a launch, something I've panned moves on other abilities for. This is for 2 reasons. Firstly, if you fully charge a launch, you can press the attack button again to do a powerful attack with a large spread that also stops you instantly, you can even charge it up in safety, guard, and then use the fully charged launch instantly. Secondly this is the only launch to give you enough invulnerability and move you far enough to not be likely to make you vulnerable again in the middle of an enemy's body. While it is a launch, it's a much more controllable and predictable launch. It does have one notable downside which is that the flying is highly inertial, meaning you're a sitting duck for the first half second or so upon activating it, though you can just let go of the button to start falling again.

Suplex Honestly I wish I could play as Bugsy for a whole game. Suplex is a high risk-high reward move that requires you to watch for grabbable objects, at least if you're playing it the fun way. You also have a downward kick which is a somewhat slow but reliable way to do damage. Additionally, since you're not playing as Kirby you don't have to worry about losing it, making the risk much more approachable. These three things together make Suplex a powerful and fun ability.

CopyTAC This list talks about things in terms of abilities but frankly TAC doesn't even actually use the Copy ability within Helper to Hero. TAC essentially uses 2 versions of one attack where it throws out its hand to a surprising length. One is uncharged and sorta Yoyo-esque in its use and the other is charged, doing decent damage. Also has a perfect guard. Surprisingly solid given what it is.

Wheel Wheel is another one that just kinda sucks in the arena context. Honestly it kinda generally sucks in any context not specifically built for it but it's so fun in the ones that are that we forgive it. The only way to attack with it is to ram into things. It does make you invulnerable while ramming but this stops almost immediately if you run into the edge or turn around. It's also not really that damaging. Naturally it's a bit of a thing to use against airborne enemies. Sword tier.

Stone Stone is stone. You fly above the enemy and fall on them, becoming invulnerable until you release it in the process. It's effective but safe in a very dull way.

Sword again Sword tier.

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imjusthereforironwood · 4 months

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Team CRDL's Weapons (Part Three: Dove Bronzewing)

Dove Bronzewing, aka the one that looks like his eyes are closed all the time. (And if a random question from an old RT convention is true, Dove is the most skilled fighter on his team.) I don't think he has a single line in RWBY proper. Welp, good thing this is fanon, not canon. Anywho, his weapon, Hallshott, is a mechashift sword with a revolver built into the handle. It seems to be able to fire while the blade is extended. The sword is the weapon is based on, a hallstatt, is a double edged Celtic blade, somewhat similar to a Roman gladius.

Revolver-swords are not uncommon in fiction, and actually exist in real life. Squall Leonhart in Final Fantasy VIII is one popular example of a Revolver-Sword user.

In RWBY, we know that Hallshott seems to use kind of smaller caliber. (if I had to guess, 9mm, .38 special, .357 magnum or a 40 S&W if Dove is a hipster) It has a decent rate of fire.

This is about all we know, now on to my additions. When Dove gets to Atlas, he will be given the chance to upgrade his equipment. However, he will be uncertain of what to change about Hallshott. He will run into Winter Schnee while he is training late one night and she took him under her wing. She teaches him the importance of responsibility and duty, as well as pushing his swordfighting ability to it's limits. Out of respect for Winter, and wanting to emulate her style, he will install a parrying dagger into his weapon. With the press of a switch on the back of the handle, a small dagger will extend out of the pommel of Hallshott. His style will become similar to a duelist, with a focus on creating openings with his revolver. When it comes to fighting larger groups of Grimm or people, he will struggle, but one on one, he is a force to be reckoned with. The best way I can describe it, he's the pick class of CRDL.

Anyway, that's all for today. Cya.

#rwby #au: reforming bullies #team crdl #dove bronzewing #weapon design #I love weapons #final fantasy viii #squall leonhart #guns

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thebard490 · 1 year

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Battle Breakdown: Exhibition Match, Mordred vs Leonardo (Scizor)

[Video id: A noivern messing with a camera. He hops back and tries clicking a couple of different buttons, messing with the lighting slightly, checking something offscreen, and then just resetting the lighting. "I'll work on that later. This one's already going to be late" he mutters. "Alright, live in three, two, one. Hello, and welcome to Battle Breakdown! I'm your host, Mordred. In this series I break down battles to help explain the tactics, strategy, and techniques used so you can become a better battler."

"In this episode, we'll be analyzing another one of my matches, mostly because I don't have anyone sending matches in yet. In this case, an exhibition match between myself and Burgh's ace on his champion circuit team. Let's get into the competitors."

An image appears of Mordred, alongside his stats, held item, and moveset. He boasts remarkable speed and decent special attack, but relatively poor attack and defenses. He is holding Bright Powder, and equipped with Psychic, Fly, Dragon Pulse, and Double Team. "So, me, for those unfamiliar, I'm a classic speed type, with a focus on using pseudomoves and my exceptional speed to help confound and outthink my opponents. However, I'm in for a serious challenge this time."

An image appears of a Scizor, alongside their own impressive defense and murderous attack stats. They are holding a Life Orb, and have the ability Technician. They are using Swords Dance, Bullet Punch, Fury Cutter, and Focus Punch. "So this is Leo, Burgh's ace when it comes to fighting trainers who've already completed another region's circuit. Extremely skilled fighter, as evidenced by how he managed to learn Focus Punch, only Scizor I've ever seen with it. I found out after the battle he used to be part of the Ferrum Circuit, which is entirely focused on 1v1s and allows a much broader set of moves. Must have learned it up there. He's really making the most of his Technician ability with a priority move, multi-hit, and then Swords Dance and Life Orb to push those low power moves as far as possible. He's got a clear battle plan and plenty of ways of forcing pressure. The type matchup really isn't in my favor either, resisting everything except my Fly, which his heavy physical defenses and my poor attack makes a poor choice. I won't win a head on fight, but that's fairly normal."

"See, there's many different strategies used by different teams and pokemon, from hyper-offense, pivot, sweep setup, and BIG STALL. However, when it comes to one on one, there are four general types pokemon tend to fall into.

"The first and simplest are the pure power types. These are the ones with the raw power to simply take their opponents on directly and crush them. This includes both your typical physical brawlers like a Garchomp, and can also involve those with exceptional special attack, such as Gardevoir or Alakazam."

"The second type are the technique focused types. These ones don't necessarily have the raw power and bulk of others, but instead make the absolute most of what they do have. Lucario is pretty much the poster boy for this style, and it covers most fighting types."

"The third are tricks focused, myself included. Rather than focusing on direct combat, we focus on preventing our opponent from executing their strategy, and wearing them down using evasion, status effects, and superior tactics. I use Accuracy manipulation for my approach, but others will use confusion, paralysis, sleep, freeze, or burn to hamper the opponent's offense. I'm an example of this, but you'll also commonly see this among Zoroark."

"Finally, the fourth type are focused on attrition, using remarkable bulk and the ability to heal to wear the target down. They might use similar techniques as a tricks fighter, slowing down the target with a status effect, but they tend to favor passive damage approaches like Toxic, Bind, and Leech Seed, while either preventing an opponent from switching out, or punishing them for doing so using Stealth Rock or Toxic Spikes. These guys tend to have bad reputations due to Leech Trappers, but it is a valid strategy for bulky mon who lack traditional offensive abilities."

"So, based on Scizor's stats, you'd expect most of them to be powerhouse types. They're physically bulky and physical powerhouses, with next to no weakness aside from an admittedly major vulnerability to fire. We'd expect him trying to rush me down and clean my clock, keeping pressure high, but ultimately relying on brute force. Let's see what happens."'

A video begins, showing Mordred and Leonardo both facing one another down. The two remain paused for a long moment, before blurring into motion. The scizor closes in, fist cocked back, and Mordred unleashes a Dragon pulse, causing minimal effect. Mordred retreats to try and create space, before Scizor closes the area in a burst of motion and lands a body blow with Bullet Punch. Mordred responds with a blur of motion, evading the next strike with double team, continuing to fall back. Scizor keeps the pressure on, preparing another powerful blow, before being hit with another Dragon Pulse. The video pauses.

"So, this is already a pretty bad situation for me." Mordred admits. "Precisely because of Focus Punch. Let's get into this move in detail. It's a move with an extremely low priority, but immense power. If it lands, it hits just as hard as a hyper beam. With Leo's attack and Life Orb, if he lands it, I'm done. This means I can only try and set up my Double Teams if I know he's not using it, in other words, after he's already socked me with Bullet Punch."

"While I could get lucky and have him miss, bright powder plus one double team drops his chance to hit to 65% on a 100% move. Thanks to his Life Orb, he's dropping 10% of his HP each turn, and each one of his hits has dropped mine by about 25% each time he hits. An X-Scissor will do around 15%. So at the moment, he needs 2 hits to finish me, or one Focus Punch, and has lost probably around 40% of his HP thanks to the Life Orb and my Dragon Pulses. So I need to survive three more hits if I counter every time, or just dodge 6 moves, both of which seem improbable. So, time to get creative."

"Of course, the battlefield, despite being Burgh's, isn't actually that well suited to creativity. It's a solid floor, no substrate to kick up, inside a building, so minimal ability to use outside factors, and in this cocoon, limiting my area to move. However, he does keep his paints up here, so-"

The video resumes, and Mordred uses psychic to fling several of Burgh's paints up and into Scizor's face, blinding him. "Accuracy down by another stage, odds to hit on a 100% move, down to 50% with a 100% accurate move." Scizor goes for another Bullet Punch, and whiffs. Mordred goes for a Fly to punish, but Scizor evades and lands a powerful Bullet Punch, sending Mordred sprawling. The video stops.

"Alright, let's go back and look at this again, slowed down, because this is a seriously impressive trick he just pulled. You can see right here." Mordred says, scrolling back to the exact point where the attack wiffs. "He recognizes he's missed and is already moving to recover. You can see how he turns, moves with the momentum of his strike to keep as much speed as possible, sees me setting up a counter, anticipates it, and then this very light correction here to get himself out of the way, and counter-punch my counter for a guaranteed hit even with my evasion boosted. That's not a powerhouse type fighter, that's honestly masterful technique. There aren't many who are outright better than me in the air, and while I am faster than him, his skill in aerial maneuverability puts me to shame. This is the difference between a Gym Leader's ace and just a normal battle trainer. Quite frankly, I'm getting rinsed. Fortunately, I'm not fighting on my own." The video resumes

"Mordred! Fall back towards the edge, use the strings!" Sam calls out, and Mordred listens. "This is why it's always important to listen to your trainer. In the middle of a fight, you're focused on the fight, and can't necessarily see the full picture. Your trainer can keep a cooler head and help you recognize strategies you wouldn't in the moment." Mordred comments, as his past self falls back and evades another bullet punch. Pink Psychic energy shrouds several strands of the cocoon walls, and pulls them out, catching and entangling the Scizor.

"Now, set it ablaze! He's weak to fire!" Sam calls, and Mordred uses Dragon Pulse on the cocoon walls, creating a massive blast of fire and smoke that sets the Scizor ablaze, falling to the ground and rolling to extinguish itself. The video pauses.

"No matter the arena, there's always something you can use to overcome your weaknesses, and take on an opponent who would be traditionally more powerful, and even more skilled than you are. However, you also need to take into account any hazards from an arena. Such as for example, what tends to happen when you generate a ton of smoke inside a building." Mordred comments, grimacing in anticipation.

The video resumes, and the smoke from Mordred's attack sets off the fire alarm, filling the building with a piercing screeching sound. The bat dragon is clearly overwhelmed by the noise and staggers, unable to move clearly. The Scizor has no such limitation, and closes in, fist gleaming. There is a powerful BOOM that sounds through the arena, shaking the cocoon, and Mordred goes flying, smashing into the ground hard enough to dig a trench through the wooden platform.

"And that my friends is why you respect the focus punch. For anyone wondering, no that didn't hurt, I was unconscious too quickly. When I woke up on the other hand, that hurt like a motherf@#$#@. If you were wondering why this and the last one were a bit delayed, that's why. I'm still kind of sore from that."

"The headache aside, I hope this analysis further showed off the difference between different fighting styles, and some of the approaches one can use to overcome a power disadvantage, as well as the importance of understanding all the elements of your arena, and the consequences of your actions. No action takes place in a vacuum. If nothing else, I'm happy to show off another ace at the top of his game. I'm gonna have to go to Ferrum at some point if they're that skilled at fighting."

"In any case, this has been Battle Breakdowns. This is Mordred, signing off to go get another ice pack."

#pokeblogging #pokemon #gym leader burgh #scizor #noivern #battle breakdown #howthedistortiondidanoivernlearnvideoediting?#ow

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bluheaven-adw · 3 years

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Fight scene deep dive!

Jim is a decent enough fighter, enough to take down some baddies here and there and not get killed, but not quite good enough in the earlier seasons to take down more skilled combatants like Nomura or Angor, or multiple attackers (unless small like goblins) on his own. I think the skill is probably there but he just doesn't have the confidence, flow or peripheral awareness to do it. He's too unsure of himself and it affects his fighting. Cue season 3. He's been training with Strickler and Nomura and while his technical fighting skills are improving, he's still afraid to just let go. Now, I've never fought or even touched a sword, but I feel like there is something instinctual to it on a deep level. A centering and then spreading of awareness, that needs to take place, and an ability to see your opponents next move. This is what Jim is holding back on, not giving in to. Not until Strickler gives him gravesand. And there it is, Jim's stranglehold on his deeper instincts letting go, and hooooooo boy is it a thing of beauty.

Look at his initial defensive awareness: attention split between both opponents, sword holding off whoever he's not focused on, and he doesn't let his attention linger on one or the other for too long. Compare to just two episodes earlier when the gumm-gumms attack the warehouse and Jim gets a bit overwhelmed and unsure.

Nomura moves first and Strickler soon after and he is ready for it. He flows from blocking Nomura's first blade to sweeping around to disarm Strickler. Then he follows through that swing to counter Nomura's second blade which has him set up to evade Strickler's kick by BALANCING UPSIDE DOWN ON THE FREAKING TIP OF DAYLIGHT and then using the momentum of uncurling his body to launch himself behind Strickler, grabbing him by the head on his way over and sending him sprawling to the ground as he lands on one foot and shifts that momentum forward onto his other foot as he swings through to block Nomura's leap. He absorbs that hit with his legs and that puts him into position for a powerful kick that sends her flying.

I've put a slow motion clip of that in because that move is freaking insane. You can see that he's shifted his attention to Strickler as he's got Nomura in a place she can't immediately attack from. He just launches himself up into what amounts to some cross between a headstand and a front flip with his grip on the hilt and the tip on the ground as his only base of support. Then arrests his forward momentum with nothing but core control, curling up and then unwinding as he hits the balance point. The control and power needed to do something like that is mind blowing. He effectively takes Strickler out of the fight momentarily, and that landing, rolling from one foot and onto the other, up into the hit, absorbing the energy and unloading like a coiled spring to take out Nomura. *chef's kiss*

Now that 6th sense awareness, he shifts attention back to Strickler, effectively dodging the first blades and easily catching the last. Jim goes on the offensive attack, and this is where Strickler starts to look a bit alarmed, that just maybe, Jim without inhibition might actually follow through with his earlier threats. When Jim can't push through Strickler's hold however, he rolls himself into Strickler, unbalancing him, breaking his hold, and using the momentum of the push and twist to flip Strickler and yeet him across the room and into the wall. Just like that, Strickler is out of the fight.

All that's left is Nomura. He dodges her attacks and uses the power of his push up out of that roll to backhand her with his shield and send her sprawling. Then Jim comes for her and you can see the worry on her face as he does. Maybe this wasn't their best idea? Jim pins her to the wall with his shield edge in her throat, and Nomura looks truly afraid until Blinky interrupts and Jim reluctantly backs off.

I've said it before, but I'll say it again. The people who choreographed the fight scenes in Trollhunters are mad geniuses. The storyboard artists and animators really pushed the envelope when it came to Jim's bigger fights, so much cool stuff happening! They really deserve all the praise they can get. For a long time I really disliked this episode. Not because it was bad, but because it is where we lose Anton. Now, however, it is one of my favorite of season 3, and that's all due to Jim's fight scenes, especially this one. Bravo Dreamworks!

#toa #trollhunters #tales of arcadia #toa trollhunters #trollhunters tales of arcadia #trollhunters toa #jim lake jr #james lake jr #strickler #nomura #toa analysis #bad coffee #gravesand!jim #Blu's vid clips #Blu's analysis #Fight scene analysis #Toa favorites #Toa scene analysis #Toa screenshots

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chocochiffonnn · 3 years

Text

Subtle

Joker X Reader

His head flew back exasperatedly.

A sigh escaped from his lips as he took another bite from the apple. The man stared into the ceiling absent-mindedly, as if contemplating something.

“Didn’t take the drug?” The woman-- you-- asked, removing the bomber jacket stained with blood and raindrops. You threw the article to the side, along with your hat as you stood in front of him with your arms crossed. His head slowly jerked back and he stared at you, a blank expression on his face.

You awaited his answer, he took another bite from the apple.

“No, didn’t wanna.” He responded. You shrugged, “Y’know Sangho’s an impatient ass, right? Better not let ‘em know.” dragging a seat nearby and throwing your head back as well. His reponse was that of silence, you didn’t push. He’d always been silent with his thoughts, barely expressing and would often show things with his fists.

He’s a violent one, so to say.

“Wanna know where I went earlier?” You spoke again, facing him. Joker shrugged, taking a bit off his apple. “Made more money earlier by beating up weak bastards, look.” You pulled a stack of cash stuffed on your pocket, showing him the cash you’d made.

But you, were the same.

“Mm, how much?”

“150,000 won, got anything better?” You smirked.

“220 for me.”

You sighed dramatically, standing up from the chair as you stood above Joker who had his head jerked back the seat. You frowned, taking hold of his hair with your hands as you caressed it; Joker hummed in pleasure, closing his eyes.

“Damn, I can’t understand why they bet more for you. Male fighters are fucking overrated.” You breathed out with a sigh as you ontinued to caress his tresses. This was the relationship the both of you shared, violence. Not towards one another but to other people.

You hadn’t exactly gotten violent with one another yet for the communication skill between the two of you were surprisingly decent. But even if it did, you’d imagine how things would go out.

“Then again, you are more violent than me.” You stated as a matter of fact. You felt Joker lean in against your touch with a hum of his own. You glanced at his relaxed face, barely getting a glimpse of his calm and serene expression.

But then it swiftly changed back to the same tense front.

You grinned, tracing the sword mark which situated just slightly below his right eye. Truth be told, Joker stood out because of the mark on his face. It always had you wondering why the mark came to be and why he chose to put it on is face of all places.

But you were sure he had his reasons.

“Come to my place after we finish this hell of a training, yeah? Your scent still lingers in my room from last night, it's driving me fucking insane.”

“'m tired.” Joker breathed out, catching you red handed. Last night was another adventure both of you experienced, so were the other nights. Last night, however, came to be much more different.

Joker differed the night before, the frustration had more or less built up on him due to certain reasons and when he was faced with the first thing he sees (which is usually a wall) he'd release all his pent up anger.

And unfortunately-- or rather, fortunately, you were the first person he was faced with the moment he had exploded.

And you wouldn't necessarily mind going through the whole ride again tonight.

“C'mon, I'll drive the big bike, yeah? Y'know you won't have to do much.”

Joker sighed, more loudly this time as he shook his head. And it was fine, you expected as much.

You licked your lips with a small smirk, letting go of the grip you had on his head. Joker pulled back with a raise of his brow, confused. You neared his head with yours, just a couple of inches apart from his face.

You pulled out a stack of cash from your back, making sure Joker's eyes catched it. Joker was rather confused. Why had you shown your money when he could've made a larger amount?

“Let me know your answer, 'kay?” You said with a smirk.

It was only then did he realize that it was his money.

And there was nothing more that could anger Joker more than someone stealing his hard work, especially his money.

#joker #joker windbreaker #windbreaker #windbreaker webtoon #windbreaker fanfic #windbreaker fanfiction #joker x reader #windbreaker joker x reader #he's so hot stop me from (s)creaming #did not proofread this im sorry

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redorich · 4 years

Note

Eventually the Hermits get their hands on the one shulker box. They give it back a day later, filled with goodies as an apology for stealing, because they just needed it briefly so Doc could set up a shulker box duplicator.

(2/2) To expand on the shulker box ask I sent: It's cheating. They know it's cheating. They debate for a while over wether or not they should build it. But desperate times call for desperate measures, and dammit they need shulkers. Mules and Llamas can only get them so far.

---

(this takes place before the fic where puffy finds zedaph.)

---

The Hermits put up with mule highways and caravans of spitting llamas because they think they have no choice. At least one person complains about the lack of sophisticated storage transportation daily. Mumbo tries to create a system which will ferry items between bases, but it turns out to be more of a Rube Goldberg machine than anything, considering the items only travel at the speed of the water which carries them. Zedaph creates an actual Rube Goldberg machine for item transportation, but the only people who use it are himself and his neighbors, Impulse, False, and Tango. It’s more for prank transportation and snail mail anyway.

Things change when Stress, on a covert surface run, comes a bit too close to other humans on accident and catches sight of a blond man in a hoodie furtively checking his surroundings. Stress immediately does as she’s been trained, hiding herself behind tree cover and checking how long her invisibility potion will be in effect for. It says four minutes. As long as he leaves soon, she won’t have an issue.

The man surveys the muddy clearing with a keen eye, keeping watch for any evildoing interlopers. He places down an Ender chest, reaches his hands into it, then looks around once again to make sure no one’s there. Stress’s heart beats like a drum-- not the style of drums she usually plays, but rather the percussion of one of Xisuma’s favorite black metal bands. As the man’s gaze passes right over her, she feels the machine gun fire of her heart against her chest peak, breath catching in her throat.

He doesn’t see her. Quickly, he pulls something out of the Ender chest. A shulker box!

Stress’s breath stops for an entirely different reason. The things the Hermits could do with even one shulker box..! Item dupers are a thing, right? If anyone knows how to make an item duplication machine, it would be Doc. And a shulker box might be useful for an item duping machine!

She’s getting ahead of herself. Should she steal from this person? Can she steal from this person? Even disregarding the moral dilemma, the members of the Dream SMP are fighters through and through. She’s got the advantage of surprise because she’s invisible and this man doesn’t know she’s here, but how long will that last? Even if she manages to take it, what if the blond man (Punz, she thinks is his name) kills her and takes the shulker box back from her?

As Stress weighs the risks and the rewards, she knows she’s running out of time. Punz breaks the shulker box. Right as he’s about to put it back in his Ender chest, Stress, who can see the window of opportunity closing, springs into panicked action.

She sprints right past Punz, hoping with every fiber of her being that her invisibility potion will be enough to save her. Snatching the box right out of Punz’s hands, Stress takes off running. Punz shouts, swinging his sword wildly at the air. He’s so close that a few strands of hair, just barely the tips, get sheared off of Stress’s fluffy mane and become visible as they flutter to the ground.

Punz’s eyes narrow, tracking the potion particles that he can just barely see. Unfortunately for him, the invisible thief takes off into the mob-infested forest. He gives chase, but the thief gains on him every time he has to stop to fight a mob.

Stress knows she can’t outrun Punz. She’s not bad, but he’s really good. Stress absolutely cannot lead this man back to the canyon. Allowing the hostile mobs of the forest to buy her time by slowing Punz down, Stress looks around rapidly, searching for something, anything she can do to lose the hunter on her trail.

A lone cow catches her eye. Thinking fast, she bites her lip as she dumps her only water bucket out into a nearby pond where it won’t be noticed, then milks the cow. In the distance, a zombie groans as Punz takes it out. Stress hyperventilates, frantically digging at the ground beneath her feet with a silk touch shovel. Once she’s created a hole just barely big enough for her to hide in, she hops in and puts the grassy dirt she dug up just seconds ago above her head and immediately downs the milk, so that there won’t be any potion particles to track her by.

Slowly, carefully, and as quiet as she possibly can, she digs up the dirt beneath her feet in absolute darkness. Logically, Stress knows that Punz won’t be able to see the light from her torch, but she’s too terrified to think logically. What has she done?!

Her shovel stills as angry feet stomp above her. Dirt crumbles into her hair when Punz walks directly above her. Caustic mutters faintly reach her ears through the loamy earth, fading farther and farther away as Punz searches in vain for the invisible thief. Stress waits with bated breath for minutes on end, hands shaking like leaves in a hurricane.

Tentatively, she digs up the diorite block below her with a pickaxe. A mob shifts aboveground and Stress, paralyzed with the paranoia that it might be Punz, spends another five minutes in immobile silence. Burying her face in her hands, she sucks in a breath and continues digging. Once she hits a decently low y-level, she digs forward, taking care to place all her blocks behind her exactly as they were before she mined them.

After a solid three hundred blocks, she begins to staircase back up. On one unfortunate swing of her pick, water floods into her staircase. She must be under a lake or a sea. She can make out some kelp, though, so hopefully that’ll be enough cover for her to go up and check her surroundings.

Stress takes a deep breath and plunges into the cold water. Swimming up, she catches sight of wood-- no way. There is no way she’s made it to the docks just outside of the canyon. Eagerly, she swims back down into her staircase for a breath of air and the chance to down an invisibility potion, then back up to the surface.

On the entire journey from the bottom of the sea to the elevator on the other side of the canyon, she expects someone to catch her, to notice the water she’s dripping on the ground, to somehow sense the guilt emanating off her in waves. It doesn’t happen. Stress makes it to the elevator and pushes the down button eagerly. Every foot the elevator descends down is another thousand pounds of weight off her shoulders. She’s exhausted, and so close to home base. If she can just make it into the Atrium, she’ll have succeeded.

The elevator dings, rousing Stress from her daydreaming. “I really am dead on my feet, ain’t I?” she murmurs to herself.

She makes her way into one of the village houses, avoiding the pressure plates and tripwires which she knows like the back of her hand by now. In the house, she presses a button, which opens a door which leads to a tunnel. Sagging in relief, Stress practically melts across the floor as she traverses the short tunnel and finally makes it into Atrium 1-- a large circular room with a rounded ceiling and plenty of light.

“Woah, Stress!” Ren exclaims, running to support her. The dark circles under his eyes make him look as exhausted as she feels. He’s been working round the clock at the tree farm to churn out enough wood to meet the demands of twenty-four Hermits.

“Stress?” Ren asks with concern in his eyes, gently shaking Stress’s shoulders.

She laughs, high-pitched and wild. She’s done it. She’s really gone and done it!

“I got a shulker box,” she breathes.

Ren gasps. “What?! No way, they’re not even a thing on this server!”

“Yes they are,” Stress sing-songs, “because I have one.”

She tosses him the cyan shulker box with a look of pride on her face. Ren looks at the box in his hands, then back up at Stress with wide eyes.

“We gotta go show Xisuma, my dude.”

---

The Hermits convene in the small meeting room in the residential district, then realize that the room is in fact small and twenty-four Hermits aren’t going to fit in it. Xisuma’s having a good day, so he decides to hold the meeting in Atrium 1.

There are many different opinions on the acquisition of the shulker box, which sits innocently in the center of the room. Some people like Wels believe that even if it’s a great boon, it was stolen and therefore the Hermits don’t have the right to use it. Things were different when they first arrived in the canyon; they stole small things in order to survive. A shulker is nice to have, but the Hermits won’t die without it. On the other hand, there are people who side with Grian, who believes that since the Hermits already have the shulker box, they might as well use it.

Doc rumbles a deep hm, indicating that he’s debating with himself whether he should say something or not. Finally, it seems that the side of him which wants to tell his fellow Hermits wins out.

“Have you guys considered shulker box duping?” he says. Immediately, there is a clamor of outcries, both for and against, as well as just plain disbelieving.

Tango speaks up: absolutely not. It’s cheating. False tentatively rebuts, though, that sometimes cheating is acceptable when it's for a good cause. After all, part of her season 7 base was dug out using TNT dupers. Mumbo awkwardly raises his hand and waits for someone to acknowledge him, which Grian does.

“Er… what if we give it back after we’re done with it?” Mumbo says. Tango still looks unhappy, but the idea seems to appease Wels.

“Friends,” Xisuma says softly. Everyone quiets down immediately. “Should we have a civil vote, or shall I decide?”

Immediately, everyone gets shamed into behaving. “We can vote,” Bdubs says. “Everyone in favor of not cheating?”

“Wait, what are our options?” Grian asks.

“Er,” Scar speaks up. “Keeping the box but not duping it, giving the box back, duping it then giving it back, or duping it and not giving the original back. Is that right?”

Bdubs nods. “Yeah! So, all in favor of keeping the one original box?” A few hands go up, maybe five or six.

“Giving the box back?” More hands go up.

“Duplicating the box, then giving it back?” Nearly a dozen hands go up.

“Well then,” Bdubs says, “I guess I don’t have to finish the options; dupe-and-return wins.”

Doc strides into the center of the room and mines up the shulker box before anyone can change their mind; Tango grumbles good-naturedly at having lost the vote. Meanwhile, while everyone discusses the vote, Joe ferries Xisuma off to his quarters.

“So who’s going to give the shulker box back when we’re done with it, my dudes?” Ren asks the room at large.

“I will,” Stress says immediately. “I stole it; it’s only right that I give it back.”

---

Two days later, Punz wakes up to a noise in his house. He reaches for a knife under his pillow; just because there is no one to be seen doesn’t mean that no one’s there, as Punz is well aware given the theft of his shulker box, which he is still smarting over.

He gets out of bed, treading softly. Right there, in the doorway, is the same shulker box he lost! He looks around. This has to be a trap. No one is around… Punz might as well spring this trap.

He opens the box. Nothing is missing. In fact, there are more items inside than there were when it was stolen from him! A totem of undying, four diamond blocks, two ingots of netherite, and a note which reads, Sorry I stole your box! I only needed to borrow it, but I felt bad so I left some extra goodies in. xoxo

“...Huh?” Punz says to himself. This is the weirdest prank ever.

He puts the box back into his Ender chest and resolves to think about it in the morning.

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rebelhan · 4 years

Text

yield

pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Reader

word count: 5.2k

warning: 18+, explicit sex, unprotected sex (pls wrap it before u tap it), fluff, a bit of pining, sword fighting as foreplay... if u squint

a/n: this was just an excuse to put fighting with geralt and smut in the same story oops

masterlist

AO3 link

“You think you can take me?” The question is asked with an amused lilt and you can see the smirk playing on the Witcher’s face. Though his hand is on the hilt of the sword at his hip, as if he already knows your answer.

You juggle the question for a moment. Realistically, no. You could not take him. You were going to end up flat on your ass in a few minutes and you knew this. Though you also knew a duel with Geralt would only help you improve your own skills. So, not two minutes earlier, you had asked him tauntingly, “You up for a fight, Witcher?” That, and Jaskier had been sent off to fish in a nearby river so you were alone with Geralt. Being alone around him made your mind foggy in a way you didn’t know how to deal with.

Geralt wouldn’t have entertained the thought of saying yes to you had he not seen your skills with a blade first hand. The Golem he had encountered just under a month ago was quite the challenge, even for him. And of course Jaskier was of no help against the beast. Then you had appeared out of nowhere and slain the monster with your meteorite sword. When you had shyly asked to accompany him to his next destination, Geralt had already made up his mind to say yes before Jaskier begged him to agree.

It was twenty-eight days since that encounter and the three of you had been making your way through the lands, eliminating the monsters that plagued the towns you visited in exchange for coin. Geralt half expected you to end your journey with them at each inn you stopped at, but the next morning you were always ready to go, on to the next adventure. Geralt didn’t mind as much as he thought he would. You could take care of yourself and you pulled your weight, proving a valuable ally against beasts more than once.

So here you stood in this clearing of woods, the sun shining low in the sky. Instead of answering his question, you unsheathe your sword from its place slung over your back and point the tip of the blade at Geralt’s chest, a sly smile on your face.

You can’t even blink before his steel blade clangs with your own, the force of the vibration rippling down your arm. You duck as he slashes, his sword slicing through the air where you once stood. You stab towards him and he avoids it with a step to the side. When he jabs at you again, you spin against the blade, catching his sword with your own near his hilt. The sound it makes is grating and you know he felt that clash in his wrist.

You step away from him to catch your breath. He knows you’re winded. “Is that all you’ve got?” you goad, though you are the one panting. A low chuckle rumbles through his chest at the taunt; with the way you’re breathing, he knows there’s no bite behind it. He spins the blade once in his wrist while you fill your lungs and you charge at him again, hoping to catch him by surprise. The sound of your blades crashing together over and over rings through the air. It’s punctuated by the sound of your grunts, struggling with the force of each move. The birds have long fled the trees around you from the sounds of your fighting and the sun falls lower in the sky with each meeting of blades.

With the next jab, your swords lock together at the hilt. Between the cross of the blades, your face is near Geralt’s, close enough to see the vein protruding his forehead in effort. You push against his sword, groaning with the strain of holding him back. “Not strong enough to beat a human?” you jest, but the words are grunted out and you know you will lose soon enough. You may be a decent sword fighter, but your strength is no match for a Witcher’s. As you strain with the effort of holding him back, you take pride in the fact that he’s breathing hard, too. At least you weren’t making this easy for him. You weigh your options quickly, your arms are trembling and you know you can’t hold him off much longer.

Before you can maneuver away, the ground disappears from beneath your feet and you hit the dirt with a yelp, the impact knocking the wind out of you. Geralt had kicked a leg behind your ankles and sent you tumbling to the ground. He stands above you, the tip of his sword touching the fabric at the center of your chest. The smile on his face reaches his amber eyes. He raises his eyebrows, waiting for the words to end the fight.

You huff in annoyance. “I yield.”

“Is that all you’ve got?” he teases, throwing your words back at you. You can’t help the matching grin that falls on your face. He sheathes his sword again before offering you a gloved hand. You sit up, grabbing his hand, a retort on the tip of your tongue. But when he pulls you up, you stand with your torso against his, looking up at him. You’re close enough that you can feel the rise and fall of his chest and trace the specks of black in the yellow of his eyes. It’s like the wind has been knocked out of you all over again.

“What? No witty remark?” he asks, tilting his head closer to yours, just slightly. You feel the words rumble through his chest and it sends a shiver up your spine. Heat creeps up your neck and you’re not sure how much longer you can stand to be this close to him. The sly grin on his face tells you nothing. Either he doesn’t notice your dumbstruck expression and is content to tease you on the outcome of your duel, or he is entirely aware of the effect he’s having on you.

Your hand is still gripping his in a vice, unable to find the biting words you had planned to say. You’re lost in his eyes, the orange of the setting sun bringing out the same shade in his irises.

Then, just as suddenly, you hear Jaskier’s voice. “Oi! Look what I’ve caught.” You jump away from Geralt and miss the look of disappointment that flashes across his face. Jaskier seems to be blissfully ignorant of the position the two of you were just in, cheerfully gesturing at the net in his hand holding two fish. You move to pick your sword up from the where it had landed during your fall and resheathe it while Geralt and Jaskier start a fire.

You eat in silence, but Jaskier fills the quiet, prodding the two of you to approve of his new lyrics every few minutes. By the time you’ve eaten, the sun is long gone and Jaskier has the makings of two new verses. He has taken to singing them over and over again in the name of perfecting them. You glance up at Geralt across the fire as Jaskier is beginning to sing the same line for the seventh time. His gaze was already trained on you, his eyes glowing against the low flames of the dying fire. Your heart jumps into motion again and the heat of the fire suddenly feels suffocating. You give a half-hearted excuse about needing some rest and step away from the fire to find a flat area to get comfortable on for the night.

When you wake to the sun streaming in through the trees, the thump of your heart has not subsided. Your hand falls to your neck where the ghost of a pair of lips lingers. With a jolt, you sit up, mortified. You had dreamt of him. You shut your eyes tightly, willing yourself to forget, but it’s a mistake and the images of your dream flash behind your eyes. His hands wrapped tightly around you, ghosting your cheeks, running down the sides of your body. His lips on your chest, your neck, squarely against yours. His eyes piercing yours as pleasure overtook you. His hair, falling around your face as he leaned down and kissed you, your hands tangled in white mane with his head between your legs.

The heat returned to your cheeks and you furiously rubbed at your eyes, hoping to dispel both the offending images and the last remnants of sleep. A rustling noise pulls you from your thoughts and your eyes open to Geralt packing up camp and stroking Roach’s mane. It takes everything in you not to curl up into a ball and the thought of running away crosses your mind before you chastise yourself for being stupid.

The day of walking is uneventful. You keep a safe distance between yourself and the Witcher, necessary to keep your heart at bay. Though you’re consumed with your own feelings, you think you maintain an air of nonchalance successfully, especially if Jaskier’s indifference to the situation is anything to go by. The regular banter between the three of you is easy to fall into despite your thoughts being elsewhere. And when the sun beating down is too much and silence encompasses your companions, Jaskier never fails to sweetly croon, “Toss a coin to your Witcher.”

“O Valley of Plenty,” you follow without fail. It brings a smile to both your faces. Though Geralt walking behind the two of you only responds with a disapproving grunt, you can hear the smile on his face, too.

You arrive at the nearest town just as nightfall is settling in. The sole inn of the village is above a rowdy bar and though the three of you are weary from the journey, the promise of strong ale is too good to resist. You pile your things into the single available room before crowding around a table together, pitchers of golden liquid filled to the brim in front of you. Jaskier downs his first pint in the blink of an eye and his second and third go just as fast. While you’re still working on your first, Jaskier grabs his lute and leads the patrons of the bar in a drunken rendition of The Fishmonger’s Daughter. The crowd takes to him rather quickly and you’ve lost sight of him in the middle of the establishment, though his voice still rings out clear above the others.

Geralt looks out at him and though his gaze is steely, you swear there’s a hint of affection behind the hardness. You admire the straight line of his jaw over the rim of your glass, content to observe him while he’s distracted. Then his head twists towards you and you rush to move your gaze down to your drink, taking a hefty gulp and nearly choking on it in your attempt to pretend you weren’t ogling him.

You drop the glass down to the table with a thunk and dab at the ale that escaped your mouth with your sleeve. When you look back up, Geralt’s amber eyes are still fixated on you. It’s an effort to keep your voice steady when he’s staring at you so intently. “Penny for your thoughts?” you prompt him.

You’re met with his silence. Then he shrugs and his eyes flit about the bar, as if he’s deciding what he should reveal to you. “You’re not bad with a sword,” he says.

The heat flares in your cheeks. Was he thinking about the day before? Just as you had been? Compliments from the Witcher came few and far between and you dared to guess this was only the second one you had ever received, though it barely qualified.

“Though not as good as me,” he continues. The corner of his lip is raised. He’s teasing again. Whatever fluttering was in your belly is quashed by your indignation.

“I beg to disagree! You won because you’re stronger than me, that I’ll admit. Had you not been a Witcher I would’ve had you on the ground in seconds. And I was barely winded!” It’s a bit of an exaggeration, yes, but he had successfully baited your competitive nature. His face reveals amusement at the flare of your temper. He takes a generous sip of his ale before returning his attention to you.

His eyes are alight with mischief. Even before he opens his mouth, you know he’s about to say something meant to rile you up and get some reaction from you. Though, there’s no way for you to anticipate the exact words he utters.

“Your heartbeat said otherwise” The memory has blood rushing to your cheeks again. He pauses, waiting for your retort, and when none comes he continues. “Or maybe that’s just because you like me.”

Your chest seizes in shock. Your mouth opens and closes like a fish, unable to come up with anything to defend yourself. Damn his Witcher senses. He hides his grin behind another sip of ale and you can’t meet his eyes anymore, your gaze drilling a hole into the wooden table. The tavern around you is loud and lively and Jaskier is still leading the crowd in some other drunkard’s song but all you can hear is your heart thumping in your ears.

Between Geralt’s piercing gaze and the small table, there is nowhere for you to run and you quickly calculate the fastest escape you can make to save yourself from any further mortification. With clumsy hands, you raise your glass and down what remains, clearing your throat at the burn. “I think I’ll retire for the night,” you say, your voice uncharacteristically meek. Although there is just the one room, you figure you can fall asleep, or at least pretend to be asleep, by the time Geralt is done drinking, and Jaskier will no doubt find himself in someone else’s bed for the night. If you’re lucky, maybe Geralt will make his way to a brothel and save you from the embarrassment of being around him.

Just as you get up and scrape your chair back, his voice cuts through your thoughts. “I think I will, too.”

There is no way out, you conclude. You’re fated to die of embarrassment tonight. As you make your way through the tavern towards the stairs, you spare a desperate glance towards Jaskier, but his eyes are glazed over in drunkenness and he is draped over the lap of a beautiful maiden: he will be of no help.

The hallway of the upper level of the inn creaks with each step you take. Geralt follows closely behind you as you carefully walk to the end of the hall where your room is. He is so close that you can feel the warmth emanating from his body, even through the clothes he wears. If you were to stop walking, he’d surely bump into you.

When you stop at your door and fumble with the latch, his chest is mere inches from your back. The proximity has every one of your nerves on edge. The bolt creaks against the wood as it slides out from the door frame. Before you can push the door to open it, Geralt’s arm comes up beside your head and does it for you, caging you between himself and the door.

Your mind clouds with lust at the simple action and you push forward into the room to give yourself some distance to clear your head. He enters behind you and you turn to close the door and bolt it when you find his chest at your back yet again. He places his hand over yours and you freeze. You’re sure the pounding of your heart is loud enough for him to pick up with his Witcher senses. When you fail to move, he gently pushes your fingers to help you bolt the door.

You pull your hand out from underneath his and spin around, your intention to duck away from him. But you find yourself trapped between Geralt’s body and the door at your back, his arms on either side of you to keep you in place. You can’t bring your eyes to his face, instead dropping your gaze to your hands which you clutch together in front of you. The question of what he’s doing flits through your mind, though you settle on the answer that he’s figured out you like him and he’s now enjoying teasing you and watching you squirm.

“Look at me,” he says quietly, though your combative nature is stronger than your embarrassment and you keep your gaze on your own fidgeting fingers as some form of protest.

“Look at me,” he repeats. This time, there’s something in his voice you can’t place. It’s a little gentler than you’re used to, the banter between you has always been abrasive. Regardless, you can’t seem to stop your body from listening as your head tilts up and your eyes find his. The stupid smirk is still on his face and that is enough to solidify the idea that he is making fun of you.

Your ears heat in anger and you huff indignantly, “Fine, I like you. There’s no need to be an ass about it.” There’s an angry line dividing your brow and you don’t cease the wringing of your hands until one of his hands leaves its place on the door to stop the motion.

He leans down, until there is but a hair’s breadth between the two of you. You hold your breath. Your eyes drop to his lips, and even as your heart is hammering in your ears, you’re still convinced that he’ll play out this teasing for as long as he can.

And then his lips are on yours.

Your hands find purchase on his shoulders and one of his grabs at your waist. And even as you move your mouth against his, your mind is still racing. Just how committed was he to maintaining this ruse? And as much as you were enjoying this, at what point should you push him away and come back to reality?

Then, his tongue swipes at your lips, begging for entrance, and all thoughts fly out of your mind. He licks into your mouth and you are entirely consumed by how solid he is under your hands. His frame envelops you and you are pressed between his chest and the door. His lips leave yours to venture down the side of your neck and a whine involuntarily escapes your throat. You feel his lips curl into a smile against your skin at the sound and you fight through the pleasure that clouds your brain to push him away. He looks at you questioningly as you take a moment to catch your breath.

“All right, I think that’s quite enough of teasing me. Wasn’t it enough for you to let me die of embarrassment, you had to take it this far?” you ask him, jabbing a finger at his chest accusingly. His face morphs from confusion to amusement to incredulity in the span of a second.

“You’re as thick as a brick, woman.”

Your indignation is halfway out of your mouth before he slams his lips against yours once again. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wonder if you had missed something, but then his nimble fingers are at the ties at the front of your blouse and you can’t hold on to a single thought as the garment is loosened and his rough palm is splayed against the bare skin of your chest.

He grabs at your flesh and drags a coarse thumb over your nipple, drawing air from your chest in a gasp. That sound is enough encouragement for him to repeat the action and pinch the nub until it’s hardened. He gives the same treatment to your other breast before seemingly growing impatient. He pulls away to tug your blouse off completely and lets it fall to the ground. His gaze lingers on your heaving chest for a moment before traveling up to meet your eyes.

The yellow of his irises is nearly swallowed by his pupils in a darkened look you have never seen on him before. With a jolt, you register for the first time that your feelings may not be one sided. He holds your gaze while you allow yourself to process that thought. When you bring yourself back to reality, your brow is set in a determination Geralt only sees when you’ve got a steel sword in your hand and the taste of a fight on your tongue.

With renewed fervor, you surge toward him, a hand grabbing at the nape of his neck and crashing your lips against his. The kiss is desperate and bruising. He nips at your bottom lip as you claw at the material of his shirt, breaking away for a moment to tug the piece of clothing over his head. He spins you around, walking you back until the backs of your knees knock against the rickety frame of the tavern bed.

His teeth bite at your pulse point, eliciting a whimper from you. One hand makes quick work of the laces of your breeches and when the material pools at your ankles along with your undergarments, he presses against you until you fall onto the bed. You raise yourself onto your elbows and watch as he undoes his own breeches and takes them off. As he crawls on top of you, you’re caught between the embarrassment of holding his gaze and his arms that cage you in.

Geralt’s golden eyes scan your face, enjoying the way your wild eyes glance around and breath passes through your kiss bitten lips. He drops his head into the crook of your neck, pressing his lips against the dips of your collarbone. One hand trails your side in a feather light touch and comes to rest at the top of your thigh. A sharp nip at your skin has your chest arching up towards his, but his hand on your leg holds you down and he eases the reddening spot with a swipe of his tongue.

The hand lingering at your hip ghosts towards your center and he presses his thumb at your bundle of nerves. You suck in a sudden breath and you can feel his lips form a smile on your skin yet again, though the haze of pleasure is too thick for you to come up with a witty remark to wipe the smirk of his face. Two fingers at your entrance gather the wetness there and your body tenses in anticipation.

He suddenly raises his head to look you in the eyes. With a start, you realize he’s asking for permission. And when you nod yes to him, two fingers slip past your folds. His eyes shut in appreciation and he groans at the sensation of your warmth around his fingers. The sound comes from his chest and has wetness pooling at your core. He moves his digits in and out slowly, scissoring them gently. Each of your whimpers has a grunt falling from his lips, like he draws his pleasure from yours. His thumb presses circles at your clit, slowly increasing pace as your pleasure builds, spreading from your core to every inch of your body. He slips a third finger inside you and your hands find purchase in his white hair, tugging at the strands.

Your chest arches up, toes curling and thighs tensing, head falling back as you near closer and closer to the edge. And then his hand is gone. You groan at the loss of the sensation, having been so close to coming. A thin sheen of sweat coats your skin and when you open your eyes again, Geralt’s face is twisted into that cocky smirk that you are quickly coming to despise.

“I was so close,” you glare at him indignantly, though the quick rise and fall of your chest and the wetness between your legs gives you little leverage against him. He controls your pleasure and by the grin he sports, he is well aware of this fact, but he presses a gentle kiss to your lips in apology.

He leans back to stroke himself twice before he’s positioning himself at your entrance. This time, he asks you aloud, “Can I?”

You nod quickly, but he’s intent on teasing you at least a little longer.

“I need to hear you say it.” There’s mirth on his face but it’s overwhelmed by lust. He can’t hold back much longer.

Your response is breathless. “Yes.”

He enters you slowly, groaning with the feeling until he bottoms out. He pauses to let you adjust. Your eyes are screwed shut as you struggle to get used to his girth. When the sensation subsides you nod that you’re ready and he begins rocking into you.

His pace is steady and you meet each thrust with a raise of your hips. The pleasure slowly builds again and you feel warmth creep into every extremity of your body. His hands grab at your thighs and push them up until you lock your ankles behind his back, allowing him to hit a new spot inside you that has you babbling praises and curses alike.

His hips move faster, slamming against yours with each movement. The bed creaks rhythmically, though you barely register the sound amongst that of Geralt’s skin slapping yours and the guttural noises that fall from his throat. As you near the edge yet again, he snakes and hand between your bodies to flick tight circles against your clit, eliciting his name from your lips.

“Geralt Geralt Geralt…" you mumble like a mantra, unable to form any other phrase as the coil in your gut twists tighter and tighter

And even in the throes of pleasure you recognize the glint in his eyes that tells you he’s about to say something to rile you up.

It’s a single word, grunted as a command.

“Yield.”

You comply, tumbling over the edge as every nerve in your skin is set alight. White flashes behind your eyes and a long drawn out whine escapes from your throat. Your thighs tremble around him as he moves through your release, chasing his own high. With a few quick thrusts, he spills inside you, your name falling from his lips in a gasp, spoken like a prayer.

He collapses above you, your chests heaving in harmony as the buzz lingers in the air around you. You feel his lips at your neck again, pressing a few breathless kisses, before he rolls over onto his back. His hair is a mess from the agitation of your hands and sweat lingers on his skin.

For a beat, the nerves return and you wonder if you should say something, or perhaps get dressed and make yourself scarce, but Geralt wordlessly tugs you to him until your head rests on his chest and pulls a thin sheet over your bodies.

“Sleep,” he says, and for once, you’re content to listen to him, falling into a slumber almost immediately.

You awaken to sunlight filtering in through the dingy window of the room. You lay in the same position you had fallen asleep in, save for the thin sheet now pooled at your waist. In the morning light, the memory of your actions brings heat to your face . You hastily decide that detangling yourself from the Witcher, getting dressed, and disappearing until it is time to leave is the best way for you to avoid the embarrassment of confronting your lingering feelings.

You’re sitting at the edge of the modest bed, tugging your breeches up your legs and overthinking how to avoid talking to Geralt, when his sleep laden voice promptly cuts through your frantic thoughts.

“Where are you going?”

You nearly jump from fright, but calm your heart enough to remain indignant. You twist towards him to find the man propped up on one elbow on his side, shamelessly observing your form. The sheet across his waist leaves little to the imagination and despite the previous night’s activities, the image still has you flustered.

You turn forward again to continue dressing and mutter, “Nowhere.”

“Turn around,” you follow, “I would like some privacy, please.” The ire in your voice is apparent and you focus on the feeling. At least while you directed your energy towards anger, you could avoid thinking about everything else.

“Why?” he retorts. “It’s not like I didn’t see it all last night.”

Your hands pause at the laces of your breeches as you process how difficult he is making it to avoid discussing what happened. “It was... dark,” you respond lamely.

“Did you forget I’m a Witcher?” There’s an amused lilt to his tone and sure enough when you turn around again his lips are raised on one side. You scowl at the expression and his grin only grows wider at your irritation.

Before you can decide between smacking the smirk off his face and begging him to leave you alone, he raises himself to sit and leans forward, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss. His palm tenderly cups your cheek and you feel his thumb stroke the ridge of your cheekbone. When he pulls away, all traces of anger have left your face.

He rises off the bed to get dressed and the wood creaks with the loss of the weight. The kiss, though sweet and short, leaves you inexplicably giddy and you fumble with your blouse thrice before fastening it properly.

Geralt sits back down beside you on the bed to lace up his boots as you do your own. When you finish, he stands and offers you a hand, looking at you expectantly with golden eyes. The voice in your head screams through frantic thoughts to run away from that hand as fast as you can, but you ignore it. You clasp his work worn hand with your own and he pulls you up off the bed. He lets go momentarily, strapping his swords to his back and grabbing his belongings while you do the same with your rucksack. At the door to your room, he takes your hand and tugs you out into the hallway while your mind is still catching up to the feeling of your fingers interlocked with his.

You find Jaskier in the lower level of the inn, looking miserably hungover in front of a plate of eggs. He doesn’t register your presence until the two of you are standing right in front of him. The bard nods solemnly and rises from the table to leave, anything but eager to start the day’s journey. If he notices the hands clasped between yourself and Geralt, he says nothing. Though you suspect his Witcher song will have a new verse by dusk.

It’s your mistake that you hum the melody to Toss A Coin To Your Witcher that night at your campfire, even if you are bored out of your mind. Jaskier’s colorful new verse, featuring a rather suggestive description of yourself, has you chasing him around the clearing with your sword in hand. Jaskier begs for mercy while Geralt looks on in fond amusement.

thank you for reading!

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vanserraseris · 3 years

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END - There’s the apology azris oneshot. It doesn’t really have a title, Flames and Shadows is basic but it’s all I’ve got. I think Eris and Az would be great enemies to reluctant friends to lovers idk. Also, Eris at this point has sort of just been dragged into the ic friend group but still remains an asshole. It is what it is. Hope you enjoy it!!!

YOU HAVE NO NEED TO APOLOGIZE but this was INCREDIBLE.

Also i LOVE the idea of eris reluctantly being dragged into the ic

Anyway. Here it is in full:

Azriel had been working with Eris for months, he’d trusted the spoiled prince to get them safely out of harm’s way, to take them to a secure location. He’d been expecting Eris to winnow them to his personal home, but as they materialized in the unfamiliar space, Azriel realized it was the first time he was seeing the other male’s room. With a small growl, Eris let go of Azriel leathers, shoving past him but not touching his wings.

Eris barely lifted a finger, the stunning, stone fireplace to his right roaring to life along with the bronze sconces that lined the walls. All of Eris’s cottage was elegant, the furniture in it made of expensive carved mahogany that matched the gleaming hardwood floors and sideboards, everything organized, orderly, and tasteful. Eris’s bedroom was much the same.

Two comfortable-looking cushioned chairs were placed near the fireplace, a low table between them was covered in multiple neat piles of thick books. His bed was huge, pushed up against the opposite wall, big enough for multiple people to lie in it. The carved pattern on the dresser, mirror, and nightstands was intricate - beautiful. Not knowing what to do with himself, Azriel merely stood where Eris had left him - right in the middle of the bedroom.

Azriel took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair, livid that they’d been caught by surprise but the anger not showing on his face. Some of Azriel’s shadows skittered around him, the rest trailed after Eris as he stumbled to the dresser, knocking into it with his knees so that it hit the wall with an ugly thud. Azriel watched as Eris leaned toward the mirror, wincing as Eris wiped at his mouth with the dark brown sleeve of his well-tailored jacket.

“What the fuck?” Blood nearly the same colour of Eris’s hair dripped from his nose, leaking down his face, staining the collar of the offwhite shirt that peaked out of Eris’s jacket. Eris tugged open the dresser’s top drawer, all his shirts neatly folded inside, taking one out and holding it up against his face. He turned to face Azriel, his newly cut hair in disarray as he gestured wildly in Azriel’s direction, “Some fucking spymaster.”

His voice was muffled by the shirt, but it did nothing to hide his angry tone, “I thought those shadows were useful.”

Azriel clenched his jaw. For the most part, Eris had been treating Azriel’s shadows like he treated his hounds: with an unexpected softness. The shadows liked brushing up against Eris’s hands as he wrote, or curling up over his shoulders as he read. Azriel had apologized the first few times it had happened, but Eris had assured him that he didn’t mind.

He didn’t like the way Eris was talking about them now, though. “They are useful.”

“They are not.”

“They were distracted,” Azriel snapped, defending them.

Eris moved the shirt away from his face, the bleeding seemed to have slowed. He snorted, the sound watery, “By what?” He turned back to the mirror.

Azriel was moments away from retorting “by you,” but he stopped himself. There must have been a reason his shadows monitored the Autumn Court Heir’s every move. Azriel assumed it was because they didn’t trust Eris Vanserra, and he didn’t want to offend one of the Night Court’s most important allies by telling him as much.

“Give me that pitcher,” Eris demanded.

Azriel would have ignored him had he not felt slightly responsible for Eris’s current state. It wasn’t that Eris hadn’t been a decent enough fighter, but they both hadn’t been expecting an ambush, and as the more experienced one, Azriel should have kept an eye on him. Azriel handed Eris the pitcher that had been sitting on the nightstand, watching as water sloshed over the edges and onto the dresser as Eris shoved a clean part of the shirt into it before he brought the wet fabric to his face.

Eris leaned closer to the mirror, nearly knocking over the pitcher, and made a funny noise deep in his throat before he spoke. “Cauldron fucking boil me,” he bemoaned, one of his fingers gingerly touching the tip of his nose. “I think it’s crooked.”

Azriel rolled his eyes. His nose looked fine, perfect, even. “It is not.”

Azriel was debating whether or not to sit in one of the chairs when Eris turned an accusatory gaze in his direction, “I blame you for this complete and utter disaster.”

Azriel blamed himself too. That night was supposed to be nothing more than a routine lookout. If he’d known that Koschei was going to send others after them, he wouldn’t have taken Eris with him in the first place. Azriel would have thought about what it might have meant that he’d wanted to take Eris with him, but Azriel was too focused on the way his shadows seemed to be trying to warn Eris that he’d probably end up making his injuries a lot worse if he didn’t calm down.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Azriel suggested, his voice smooth.

Eris paid him no mind, scrubbing a little too aggressively at the blood on his face. Most of it had come off, and his nose had finally stopped bleeding. “Don’t tell me what to do,” Eris muttered, wiping at some of the blood on his neck.

Azriel regretted that Eris had gotten hit in the face with the pommel of a sword, not really knowing why.

He’d spent years fantasizing about doing the very same thing, but spending so much time with Eris had Azriel - and he could barely believe it - liking him. “Vanserra, get on the bed,” Eris straightened, raising his brows, “Let me have a look.”

“First Cassian, now you. I don’t like being ordered around by overgrown bats.” Despite the statement, Eris made his way to the bed, leaning up against the headboard, boot clad feet on the dark red covers.

Eris was still scowling as Azriel tipped his head back just a bit, cradling Eris’s jaw in one hand, taking in every feature of his face. He was beautiful in an undeniable sort of way, and now that he’d cut his hair, Azriel thought he looked even better. Eris’s strange friendship with Nesta had led to the change; he'd let her, Feyre, and Elain cut it for no apparent reason and still managed to look ridiculously stunning.

Azriel gently wiped at any remaining blood that stained the other male’s skin. Through the thin fabric of the shirt, Azriel could feel the sharp planes of Eris’s face and was reminded of the first time he’d ever seen the Autumn Court prince. He’d thought Eris was classically beautiful in a way that reminded Azriel of broken shards of stained glass. Lovely, yet dangerous.

Azriel put the ruined shirt on the bed, using the hand that wasn’t holding Eris’s chin to move some of the hair that had fallen over Eris’s brow. His nose wasn’t bleeding anymore, a small cut underneath his eye was already starting to heal, and the bruise on his jaw seemed to be fading. His nose definitely wasn’t crooked, but Azriel ran the tip of his scarred finger along the sloped bridge of it just to make sure.

Azriel hadn’t realized how close he’d gotten to Eris. “I don’t think it’s broken,” he murmured.

Azriel watched as Eris’s eyes fluttered. “I heard the crunch,” he breathed.

Azriel didn’t know what came over him, in the moment he thought it might have been madness. Eris was one of his oldest enemies, he was cruel, and ruthless, and he deserved only the worst. That was what he’d believed for centuries.

He didn’t know what might have possessed him to press his lips to the mean line of Eris’s mouth, but he knew that it felt… right. Eris parted his lips in a shocked gasp, golden flames bright in his wide eyes. Azriel was completely out of his mind. He’d never, not once in his entire life, done something without thinking it through. The panic seized him quite suddenly, his wings flaring just a bit as he made to move back, to move away.

Azriel was more than just a little surprised when Eris lifted his hand, threading his slender fingers into the dark hair at the base of Azriel’s scalp, pulling him closer in another kiss. Azriel kissed Eris harder this time, grabbing the other male’s face in both hands, thumbs sliding against sharp cheekbones, lips moving with the force of weeks’ worth of wanting. Eris’s bottom lip was caught between Azriel’s teeth, his other hand coming up to fist in Azriel’s leathers.

Weeks upon weeks of working with Eris, talking to him, trusting him. A helpless sound escaped Eris’s lips when Azriel slowly moved his hands so that his thumbs traced the shape of the smooth, pale, column of Eris’s throat. Azriel had more than a million things to do, but as Azriel opened his mouth, Eris’s tongue pushing against his in a savage claiming, Azriel leaned into him, all those things forgotten.

Azriel wanted to move so that he was right between Eris’s thighs, to press the other male into the bed, to watch a prince of Autumn come undone. Their kisses were messy, urgent, desperate. Eris pulled him closer, and Azriel thought he could drown in the feel of him, the taste of him. The taste of crackling embers, of rich cognac, of Autumn mornings.

Azriel’s hands slid down to Eris’s chest, undoing the golden buttons of his jacket, pulling it wide. Eris tugged on the roots of Azriel’s hair in a way that nearly had him forgetting his own name. Azriel couldn’t deny that he was drawn to Eris like a moth was drawn to a flame, he just hoped he didn’t get burned. The tips of Azriel’s fingers found the laces of Eris’s bloodied, ruined shirt. He wanted the shirt to come off, he’d never wanted anything more.

Never in his wildest dreams did Azriel think he’d want - need - Eris Vanserra. A prince born into the most savage of courts, born of blood, and ash, and fire.

Azriel was playing with fire.

Azriel didn’t like fire.

With only half a thought, Azriel roughly shoved Eris away from him.

Eris had red embers dancing in the deep amber of his eyes, his cheeks were flushed and his lips slightly swollen. They were staring at each other, no one speaking for what felt like an eternity, the only sounds in the room their ragged breaths and the crackling of the fire in the hearth.

Eris ran a hand through his hair, flashing Azriel the pale skin of his wrist as the sleeve lifted. “Well,” Eris started, “That was unexpected.” He huffed a breathless, awkward laugh.

Azriel guessed that it might have also been unwelcome.

“That was…” Azriel paused. He didn’t know what to say. That was nice? That was entirely unplanned? That was something they should do again? He couldn’t read the expression on Eris’s face and his shadows weren’t being very helpful. “That was a mistake.”

Azriel knew he’d chipped away at Eris all these weeks. They’d gotten past Azriel’s one-word answers and Eris’s cruel remarks. They’d researched, and spied, and fought together. They talked to one another, trusted one another, but as soon as Azriel finished his sentence, he thought that perhaps he’d taken any progress they’d made and thrown it into roaring flames.

Watching Eris flip from open and vulnerable to cold and aloof, was like watching the last rays of sun disappear over the horizon - blink and you’d miss it. Eris nodded once, his eyes cold, lifting his chin just a bit. Eris’s voice as he spoke was smooth, arrogant, not a hint of the warmth Azriel had gotten used to. “Usually, males and females alike wait until the morning after to say something along those lines.”

Azriel stiffened, well aware that he’d managed to hurt Eris. He didn’t know what to say to make this whole thing better, but was saved from having to speak when the door to Eris’s bedroom slammed against the wall as it flew open.

“I think I’ve found those—” Eris’s younger brother faltered, stopping suddenly, almost as if he’d hit some sort of ward.

Azriel nearly tripped over himself as he abruptly stood, him and Eris weren’t even that close to each other anymore but he felt like he desperately needed the space. Shadows frantically swirled around his feet, some skittering towards the Vanserra by the door. They hadn’t warned him for the second time that night of someone else’s presence, and Azriel was starting to think they were playing some sort of cruel joke on him.

Azriel had spoken to Rufus many times in their combined efforts to stop Koschei, and the young male almost always had something to say. Rendering him speechless wasn’t something that Azriel would have thought possible, but there he was, multiple ancient looking scrolls in his arms, his jaw slack as his russett eyes looked between the Autumn Court’s Heir and the Night Court’s Spymaster.

Azriel was certain that alarm was evident all over the features of his usually blank face, his shadows dancing around him as he waited for someone else to speak. - Rufus angled his head, amusement glittering in his all-too clever eyes. He looked very much like Lucien as he drawled, “Am I interrupting something?”

Eris’s sharp response nearly had Azriel flinching. “No.”

Rufus smiled, elegant auburn brows raised as he adjusted the scrolls in his arms, “I have many questions.”

Eris’s smile in return was more of a bare of teeth, “And you will ask none of them.”

“I’ll ask them later,” Rufus didn’t even look in Azriel’s direction as he threw himself onto one of the cushioned chairs by the fire. “I got those maps you asked for.”

Azriel had forgotten that they’d asked Rufus to look for some older maps of the continent. Eris had been sure that they would be able to find some in the library of the Forest House, and Rufus had been the one who offered to look for them.

“Are you going to look over these with us, Shadowsinger, or are you going to stay by the foot of Eris’s bed the whole night?”

Rufus spoke to Azriel, but Eris answered for him. “Azriel was just leaving.”

Azriel turned his head sharply to face Eris. He was still leaning against the headboard of his bed, his hair messier than Azriel had ever seen it, his mouth set in a way that suggested he wasn’t very pleased.

“Eris…” Azriel made to take a step towards him.

The Autumn prince just waved a hand dismissively, “Have a goodnight.”

Azriel barely heard him, the sound of his own heartbeat thundering in his ears. He couldn’t help but feel as though leaving Eris’s cottage might be an even bigger mistake than the kiss. Azriel nodded once at Eris, deciding he’d winnow straight to the House of Wind as shadows swarmed him; he wasn’t in the mood to speak to anyone right now. Eris’s flame bright eyes was the last thing Azriel saw as he was engulfed in darkness.

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