#blazing fire ;; party poison

[mothers-little-pistols]

Val showing up to the afterlife with the Fabulous Four waiting for him

[facts-i-just-made-up]

i need a list of your shortest facts to read off to friends in udder dead pan. most of the recent facts are too long to read off.

My shortest few factoids-

I've never written any short factoids.

I never tried to do one.

Short facts are hard.

Billionaire Howard Hughes once attempted to make a film of 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea and the production would become one of Hollywood’s greatest disasters, taking the lives of over 90 actors and crew, costing nearly half a billion dollars, destroying an entire island, and almost causing a 3rd world war. A party was held to mark the start of production at one of Hughes’ seaside homes and was sadly marred when a drunken Hughes began shooting into the air with his crossbow and killed an albatross, which fell into the punch bowl, offending several actors, who departed the production. This caused a massive production delay during which Hughes bought up over 50 warehouses (including the world’s largest building at the time) to hold the sets and specially built water tanks until casting was replenished. Two of these warehouses burned down (including the world’s largest building fire at the time), destroying the sets which then had to be rebuilt. By the time Hughes decided to cast unknown actors in the lead roles, ten more major set pieces had rotted away delaying the production further. Finally in October of 1948 the new sets and all actors were in place on the luxurious island of Bikini Atoll. The crew was to arrive at the shooting location on October 26th but was delayed by weather. This turned out to be a good thing as the United States conducted an unannounced nuclear test on October 27th, annihilating the island and the sets completely. The island is still toxic, and Howard Hughes, who owned the island, was compensated only $212 for his losses by the government. Undeterred, Hughes began again with fresh sets, and new actors as the previous group had long since departed by 1950. This time, production finally began and footage was shot. It was never developed however because despite the expenditure of $800,000 on pyrotechnics for the first scenes shot, nobody had thought to temperature-protect the film canisters, which were opened at the lab and found to have melted completely into what amounted to large plastic pucks. Hughes filmed the scene again, at the same cost, and then a third time when he was not satisfied with a background extra’s hair. This new footage too was lost when it was captured by rebellious 1950s teenagers who held it for ransom. They asked only $50 but Hughes refused to pay on principle. The actors and crew were even more upset than Hughes that their work had been for nothing and so began the “Leagues Riots” of 1951. What sets remained were once more burned down, this time in protest. Then the real problems began. By then, the Disney production was under way and Hughes spent millions more to spy on and sabotage the rival production. Several Disney employees fell victims to car bombs, others to arsenic poisoning, and one to auto-erotic asphyxiation, but Hughes was not considered responsible for that particular event. Walt Disney, of course, declared war. The “War Between The Sets” began in 1953 as Hughes forces were driven off by Disney’s hired guns, the Mouseketeers which in those days were a fully armed paramilitary force. This skirmish took seven lives, but it was only the beginning. Hughes used his government contracts to secure two bombers and arms weighing in excess of 500 tons, all of which were dropped on Disney owned installations. Disney’s retaliation was severe. Hughes hotels burned days after, there were so many fires that Vegas and LA were both lit as bright as daylight even at midnight from the blazes. Hughes responded with bombings and drone strikes, with “drone strikes” in 1953 referring to dropping bees on ones enemy. The conflict at one point threatened to spill over into Russia’s Southern American interests, leading the president to demand Hughes back down before turning the cold war into a nuclear conflict. By the time a truce was called, Disney’s film was in theaters and Hughes was ready to call it a loss.

Mice can't fart.

[not-handsome-enough]

DICK KNUBBLER MAYE STILL BE ALIVE

Kinda

Alright before I do anything take this with a grain of salt, cause it’s probably a continuity error / can be easily explained away BUT if you all would like to hold onto some hope please just hear me out. And also it offers a question for yall.

Alright! So!

On twitter someone had asked Brendon and Gene about Murmaider III and its placement on Dethalbum IV ( which btw shoutout to Gene’s wife that was brilliant ) and Brendon had mentioned that what sets 3 apart from the other two was that it was more dreamlike, and that it was made AFTER Army of the Doomstar. Now since Brendon and Gene weren’t the ones to make the order on the Album we can’t set a timeline for the songs ( though they are set in Brutal to Dreamlike order once again shoutout to Genes wife you goddess ) we can at least say that some songs were made post Army. In fact we could also make some assumptions about what songs were made DURING army. So I’ll separate that list here.

NOTE : YALL DONT NEED TO READ THIS PART THIS IS JUST ME RUNNING WITH “ some songs were made post AOTD which ones could they be teehee “ JUST KNOW MURMAIDER AND SOS WERE AFTER KUBBLER DIED OK SORRy I’m not deleting that whole thing I like it

Songs with “ * “ are canon, the rest are personal interpretation.

DURING ARMY OF THE DOOMSTAR:

* Aortic Desecration ( the first song of salvation but obviously not )

* SOS ( song of salvation )

Gardener of Vengeance ( Nathan directly references this during the scene where he confides in the band and Knubbler that he doesn’t write songs about hope and he’s just doing what he knows. I believe he wrote and recorded this but felt it wasn’t good enough to be the song of salvation and moved on. HOWEVER the language he used could place this as post AOTD because it sounds more like a thrown out there example kinda like how he figured out SOS in the cave )

Poisoned By Food ( Again I think this is a scrapped song of salvation since besides the actual poisoning of food a lot of the imagery feels like the what the metalocalypse was described like )

BLOODBATH ( guess what another scrapped song of salvation. This one feels like a ‘you don’t scare me I’m going to confidently stop you because if I go down you go down with me’ song. Also it could be Nathan trying to reach out to Magnus since he was one of the people on his list. Also quick note I’m going song by song so I don’t know if I’ll notice if any other songs would reflect the list I just got out of work so I’m not gonna catch it all rn )

Horse of Fire ( this is tricky because lyrics like star still blazing allude to this being written before aortic desecration but also Nathan didn’t have the talk with the whale until the deadline came up in which he had to go with aortic desecration <he wouldn’t have had time to write about the fist or the hand.> But the lyrics don’t have the <we should reach out to the fans> revelation that SOS has. Maybe this was a draft for SOS but I think once Nathan figured out what SOS was meant to be it just came to him naturally. I’m not sure. HOWEVER since the doomstar is referred to as a star that is still blazing and not a portal that’s been destroyed it’s safe to say this is not post AOTD. Either way this is an important song to keep in mind if you look at this speculating )

POST ARMY OF THE DOOMSTAR:

* Murmaider III ( stated by Brendon Small in the interview. He said he feels that the boys would have written this after AOTD and based off of interviews he’s had in the past about his songwriting process it’s hard to not take this as canon so. )

DEADFACE ( I think this is post because while the song plays during the movie only Skwisgaar knew about the possession so the lyrics wouldn’t quite make sense yet. It’s a tricky placement but I can see Skwisgaar playing around with it since he does play the notes during the movie )

Mutilation on a Saturday Night ( this feels so much like a we survived so now we’re gonna party song I can’t see Nathan Skwisgaar or Pickles make an argument for this being a Song of Salvation. Also all the fucked up shit they talk about references what happened during the metalocalypse but it’s spoken in past tense like a ‘hey we fucked shit up but we fixed it so now we’re just gonna keep fucking around haha’)

I am The Beast ( simply cause I don’t see this as something Nathan would write during AOTD but the ‘ I am a beast this is my domain and when I speak you scream my name ‘ could work as a salvation line but it feels too much like a Mutilation Saturday Night ‘I can write whatever I want cause I lived and I’m not gonna hold back’ vibe )

Satellite Bleeding ( this feels like the first song they would have written and recorded after the doomstar died. Kinda like watching the sky clear up after a storm. )

Now despite me rambling on about this I would like to draw attention to what’s canon. Specifically SOS and Murmaider III. These songs came out after Knubbler died. Yet Dethalbum IV credits Knubbler for production.

Drawing your attention to how crediting in the Dethalbum works, each album has a little section for Dethklok to get musical credits and thank whoever and whatever. There’s also production credit and location credit. On ALL of the Dethalbums Knubbler is credited as producer. Cause he’s the producer makes sense yeayeyaeyah. But whenever there’s a change in location or production, there’s additional credits.

ANOTHER NOTE: I DONT HAVE THE KLOK OPERA CD I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THE CREDITING SYSTEM LOOKS LIKE ON THERE but if someone happens to be selling that cd outside of eBay please let me know

Let’s look at them.

Dethalbum I ^

Shit ton of credits right, and on the other page which I didn’t take a picture of and can’t because I’m not home at the moment there’s credit to Snakes N Barrels for “Kill You” with each member listed. Take note that songs that are considered exceptions are credited differently and locations not at Mordhaus are credited.

I lied I have the other page. For those without the dethalbum cds the actual credits are usually on another page and “Kill You” got mixed in with it

Anyways

Dethalbum II

Hey Knubbies gets to thank someone this time! Anyways once again Knubbler is credited for production, but also Dethklok. Keep this in mind. Also the fact that different location credited for Murmaider II but it’s recorded at Mordhaus

Dethalbum III

Knubbler credit AND Abigail credit along with Dethklok AND once again location credit is Mordhaus and another fuckass place. Only thing that’s not really credited is Magnus with The Hammer but idk if he was like Toki and William where they play the songs but don’t really write or if he actually wrote The Hammer. I’m not a HammerHead, I’ve seen people interpret him as both, but at the end of the day idrk.

So what about Dethalbum IV

Knubbler is credited. At Deus Keep. Only Knubbler. Only at Deus Keep. “But he’s not credited as a Producer” True! If the album was released in universe it would probably be a producer credit. Especially since Brendon and Ulrich have Producer credit on the page prior. Maybe it’s because Knubbler didn’t make it to the final production stage. Or maybe he’s staying hidden undercover..

Remember earlier. He canonically was not around for two of these songs on this album. He could not have recorded OR mixed SOS or Murmaider III. Even if you don’t fully think that Murmaider III was made Post AOTD, SOS was done post Knubbler death. Hell, the song was dedicated to him by William! But there’s no separate credit for SOS.

If we went on the same basis as previous albums SOS would have been credited to that part of Norway where they traveled to that I forgot the name of and I’m not gonna look up but you get the point. Or even Dethklok would have been credited as production. I could also say something about how Murmaider III wasn’t recorded in the Mariana Trench and how the whale isn’t calling to Nathan anymore but that’s for another day. Right now though, it’s just Knubbler. Just Knubbler and Deus Keep.

Which leads to 3 possibilities.

Knubbler Lives: Knubbler survived ( the flashing things on the ground were teleporters ) and Deus Keep is rebuilt. To celebrate their survival they make Dethalbum IV but don’t release it

Knubbler Died: The band recorded the last few songs on the album at the remains of Deus Keep. Knubblers presets aren’t changed so credit remains to him. Once again not releasing it.

It’s not an album: Dethalbum IV doesn’t exist in universe. That’s why there’s no producer credit. That’s why Nathan doesn’t thank the klokateers ( he thanks the army of the doomstar which is just him thanking fans ). Dethklok recording it post AOTD is more to do with how Brendon records dethalbums than in universe writing.

I like to think that this is just an unreleased album in universe since the record label is more than likely destroyed, but it has the possibility of releasing one day if society is rebuilt to what it once was. But it really depends on if you think the album is canon to the universe. Cause there’s no Mordhaus credit on Dethalbum IV and there’s no way for SOS to have been recorded at Deus Keep and blablabla

something fun to think about tho yk?

TLDR: two songs on dethalbum IV were made after Knubbler death yet the credit doesn’t change for him in the dethalbum so there’s a chance that he recorded and mixed those songs cause he is alive and well horray

[likeawolfatthemoon]

australian surprise songs

loving him was red.

the delicate beginning rush, the feeling you can know so much, without knowing anything at all. i don't wanna look at anything else now that i saw you. i want you for worse or for better. i want your midnights. i'm a fire and i'll keep your brittle heart warm. it's a goddamn blaze in the dark and you started it. laughing with my feet in your lap like you were my closest friend. faster than the wind, passionate as sin. i can tell that it's gonna be a long road. all these people think love's for show, but i would die for you in secret. i gave you all my best mes, my endless empathy. i stay when it's hard or it's wrong or we're making mistakes. and you know that i would swing with you for the fences, sit with you in the trenches, give you my wild, give you a child, give you the silence that only comes when two people understand each other, family that i chose now that i see your brother as my brother - is it enough? i'll be there if you're the toast of the town, babe, or if you strike out and you're crawling home. something keeps me holding onto nothing. give me back my girlhood, it was mine first. you had me crawling for you, honey, and it never would have gone away. i stay when you're lost and i'm scared and you're turning away. i'll give you my sunshine, give you my best, but the rain is always gonna come when you're standing with me. sorry for not making you my centerfold. i'd live and die for moments that we stole on begged and borrowed time. would it be enough if i could never give you peace? you've got your share of secrets and i'm tired of being last to know. a circus ain't a love story. this thing is breaking down, we almost never speak, i down feel welcome anymore. i damn sure never would have danced with the devil. he's gonna burn this house to the ground. fighting with him is like trying to solve a crossword and realizing there's no right answer. you say "i don't understand" i say "i know you don't." he poisoned the well, every man for himself. my mistake, i didn't know to be in love you had to fight to have the upper hand. did i close my fist around something delicate, did i shatter you? i thought i had you figured out. i never learned to read your mind, i couldn't turn things around. i can't let this go, i fight with you in my sleep. did i say something way too honest made you run and hide like a scared little boy? how can you say that you love someone you can't tell is dying? i fake a smile so he won't see. i sent you signals and bit my nails down to the quick. you never gave a warning sign (i gave so many signs). how the hell did we lose sight of us again? 'cause you were never mine. was it over when she laid down on your couch? she's got everything that i have to live without. before you go tell me this, was she worth it? your new girl is my clone. was she worth this mess? you should've said no, baby, and you might still have me. tell myself it's time now gotta let go. should've known i'd be the first to leave. could've loved you all my life if you hadn't left me waiting in the cold. so step right out, there is no amount of crying i can do for you. suddenly this summer it's clear. i'm getting tired even for a phoenix. pulled my car off the road to the lookout, could've followed my fears all the way down. can't breathe whenever you're gone. you're in london and i break down 'cause it's not fair that you're not around. i know my pain is such an imposition. my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand. you feel so low you can't feel nothing at all. it's hard to be at a party when you feel like an open wound. the tomb won't close, stained glass windows in my mind.

[phxntomhives]

"The parade of battlers" analysis

SINCE NO ONE IS DOING THIS??? WHY??? I WILL DO IT

Hopefully my wrong takes will trigger someone and you all will get a decent analysis

Eng lyrics because I don't know japanese are from the official music video! Also warning, English isn't my mother tongue.

Lost in an unacceptable tragedy

An unfading warmth quivers blue in the depth of my eyes

Stifling impurities leave keloid scars and

Even now, still mourn for days gone by, never to come back

Staking my life, spitting blood and vomit

All I want to do is lead a beautiful life

But why can't you hear

Me telling you not to stumble

Love turning on its head, fiction caught in a tangle

Say bye bye to mundane concepts

See how the compensated formless stand imposingly

Their presence is a sight to behold

Rip apart, drag and reveal

Throw away all inferiorities

Even the raw emotions of cursing someone

Take them in like an offering

Just skilled at pretending to be human

Searching for those other than monsters

Like the blue shimmer of

A star of the first magnitude

Far from having enough faith

This utterly ridiculous destiny won't retreat

Fill the air with the echo of the marching boots

Let the parade of the lonely ones begin now

Everything in this world, there isn't much

Difference between the atrocious or noble as you think

Somewhere up in the sky, someone is making selections

To ensure the cycle of birth and passing is upheld

Though we have prayed and knelt down

Our prayers have been cremated

And ignored with a "So what?"

So kind

A colorless encounter, pupils of glass

Thought they may shatter to pieces,

You laugh your head off, saying, "you must be kidding"

You give the finger as you spew poison and let it all out

Scorched, boiling and trembling

A blazing fire from the past still smolders

That remorse still within me

I'll burn and retaliate in full

There is no such thing as eternity, so

There is no ending until all turns to ash

Then why not play

With fire in a refined manner?

No more need for empty rhetorics

Such hollow, scathing criticism

Burn this ceaseless stone-throwing

The parade of the lonely ones has just begun

There's no love, no love, there's no love there

There's nothing, there's nothing, there's no truth

There's just one, just one

In this world, just one person, one person

Question fanatically and

Live the shit out of this world

ANALYSIS UNDER THE CUT BECAUSE THIS BITCH IS LONG

ALSO MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE MANGA!!!

Yana, dear, are you sure this is the intro for the Weston college arc??? And not the blue cult??? LIKE, REALLY REALLY SURE??? My comprehension of text can be lacking in more than one way and I just followed the vibe but... I don't think I am that wrong on some points? You are seeing it too, right?

I feel like the song has a mix of present, past and future along with different POVs and I hope I have been able to separate them well.

The colors are just to show the lyrics and i changed it because pretty.

What I can actually connect to Weston Arc

"Then why not play with fire in a refined manner? / No more need for empty rhetorics Such hollow, scathing criticism. / Burn this ceaseless stone-throwing" Which could very much be related to O!Ciel's pyromaniac episode lol. He didn't forget

"The parade of the lonely ones has just begun" : at this point the "parade of the lonely" could very much be the parade of the bizzare dolls considering the amount of reference there is to them. And it would be nice considering in this case the sentence is right after the stone-throwing Purple house, since the students were "transfered" in the there.

If the previous point is correct then also here, we are talking of the bizzare dolls: "This utterly ridiculous destiny won't retreat / Fill the air with the echo of the marching boots / Let the parade of the lonely ones begin now". I guess the "echo of the marching boots" could be the sound the dolls made before getting free during the midnight tea party? As for why they don't retreat well, we have seen they aren't exactly rational for now.

"Scorched, boiling and trembling / A blazing fire from the past still smolders / That remorse still within me /I'll burn and retaliate in full": this could be a description of what O!Ciel is feeling in general. His determination coming from everything that happened is still going strong.

Onestly, these are the only thing I can see strictly related to the present and this arc in particular lol. Everything else goes deeper.

Memories of the past

This part will likely make the least sense, because I am still sobbing over the whole past ok.

"Lost in an unacceptable tragedy Even now, still mourn for days gone by, never to come back": We all know the past. The safest bet is that O!Ciel is mourning, but is he? He never had the time to mourn, he moved immediately to revenge and working for the queen. So either this is just to hit us in the feeling, or maybe it's my favourite victim of this analysis: Undertaker. Could it be him? Possibly, but this being O!Ciel breaks my heart more. I am excluing R!Ciel because at the moment of Weston arc his version should not be that complex. And Sebastian is Sebastian.

"Staking my life, spitting blood and vomit /All I want to do is lead a beautiful life / But why can't you hear / Me telling you not to stumble": I feel like this either O!Ciel talking to himself, admitting that he would like to just be happy but still forcing himself to be strong and act to revenge his family. Or, high on copium, the first part is O!Ciel's wishes and the second part is O!CIel using the R!Ciel allucination make himself stronger (I doubt it, but it adds to the sadness).

"Rip apart, drag and reveal / Throw away all inferiorities /Even the raw emotions of cursing someone /Take them in like an offering": I got the epiphany after several times of reading this and yes it's about revenge hatred yadda yadda yadda. But what if, in particular, it's related to the moment when O!Ciel summoned Sebastian? I think it's the only time I remember "offering" being mentioned/relevant in the manga. O!Ciel is throwing everything away for revenge, assuming a new identity. So this could be either O!Ciel talking to himself during that desperate time. Or, just to hurt myself more, him allucinating again a conversation with R!Ciel where R!Ciel is the one that is saying all this. I will go cry now, brb.

"Everything in this world, there isn't much /Difference between the atrocious or noble as you think / Though we have prayed and knelt down / Our prayers have been cremated /And ignored with a "So what?" " : God, this section is killing me. Memories of when the twins were captured, For them and all the other children, it was an atrocious experience, while the nobles were truly thinking they were in the right, that there was nothing wrong in what they were doing. They believed to be noble enough to be above everything and ignored absolutely everything in regards to the children.

Undertarker is not being subtle. Like at all.

Somewhere up in the sky, someone is making selections/To ensure the cycle of birth and passing is upheld: here I am conflicted. Undertaker is sure making selections when he is creating the bizzare dolls "you get to be revived. you don't". But at the same time he is not uphelding anything. He is doing the opposite infact. Unless this is supposed to just describe the Shinigami's role to show how Undertaker is going in the opposite direction.

There's just one, just one/In this world, just one person, one person/Question fanatically and/Live the shit out of this world: we only really see two characters question stuff: O!Ciel with the murder of his family and Undertaker with the Cinematic record ways of working. Now, i don't really see O!Ciel "question fanatically" and "live the shit out of this world", while we can debate about how "fanatically" he is searching for the culprits, how are you telling me he is living his best life? He is surronded by trauma, has to go on a mission for the queen every other day, has to live as his dead twin and in this specific arc he has to act all cutesy and adorable when he hates it. He is far from any best life I am more surprised he didn't become histerical yet honestly. The one that IS living his best life is Undertaker (well... more or less). In the Weston Arc he did say he was enjoying being the headmaster. Plus he could make some more esperiments on Derek&co which, on top of that, were mostly successful! Do you know how much serotonin a succesful experiment gives you? A LOT. TRUST ME.

Bizzare Dolls (BD for short because I am lazy)

Well, ofc they are the protagonist of the animation, they are everywhere in the song too.

"An unfading warmth quivers blue in the depth of my eyes / Stifling impurities leave keloid scars and": Are the BD warm? Idk, but I don't think so? A body is warm when the blood is running because the heart is pumping it. Do BD have a working heart tho? I doubt the original version do, but what about the new and improved versions? Agares could have probably be our best bet but he always wore gloves (even when he was alive) so we don't really know.

Warmth aside, what I am quite confident IS a reference to the BD is the keloid scars. I did a reseach and a keloid scar is a "scar keeps growing and becomes bigger than the original wound. They are developed after a skin injury". The scars we have seen are O!Ciel's scar from when they marked him, or the BD's "surgery" scars?

Ofc it could be just metaphorical about the trauma just keep on growing in O!Ciel. Maybe it's more this one but again, I am take things directly

"Love turning on its head, fiction caught in a tangle/Say bye bye to mundane concepts/See how the compensated formless stand imposingly/Their presence is a sight to behold": cambridge dictionary say that "turn something on its head means to cause something to be the opposite of what it was before". Apparently, there are many things that are the opposite of love, depending on your source: hatred, fear, indifference. I think in this case, since we are talking of the BD, we can use indifference. They aren't moved by real emotions at this moment (Weston arc) and even later, they are probably fake emotions based on fake memories (from the orphanage children but I will not elaborate, other theories have done it better). Fear could also work since well, most people are rightfully terrified of them. Being far away from mundane concepts? I would say they fill this box. And they sure are a sight to behold, nothing against it. What confuses me is the "compensated formless" I don't have any idea of what it could mean

"Just skilled at pretending to be human / Searching for those other than monsters + Like the blue shimmer of / A star of the first magnitude / Far from having enough faith": We are looking at the current arcs here in the first lines. The one skilled at pretending to be human and searching for things is Sebastian (it can't be O!Ciel because he isn't pretending to be human). What he is searching is the headmaster, that we know being Undertaker and it ends up bringing with him, again, the BD. In particular, it specifically mentions R!Ciel. You know what is the name of the biggest star of first magnitude that is currently known? Yeah, you are correct, it's Sirius. And we have known Ciel is Sirius for a while now. As to why the star does not have lot's of faith, do I have to remind you "Dear God, why are you smiling?".

"So kind /A colorless encounter, pupils of glass /Thought they may shatter to pieces,/ You laugh your head off, saying, "you must be kidding"": Listen, I have seen a couple of people mentioning "oh it's a reference to monochrome no kiss". But I don't think that's the case, not completely at least. I think this is a parallel of O!Ciel and Sebastian's meeting to R!Ciel and Undertaker. First because one of the people involved is laughing, and Sebastian smirks but has never really laughed out loud, the one that spends his time laughing is Undertaker. Second is the pupils of glass that can shatter to pieces. I wonder if it means that R!Ciel could be using glass balls for his eyes? When we have seen his not-completed form they look pretty empty and they are made of soft tissue, so maybe Undertaker changed the "real eyes" with glass? Idk. The shattering could also indicate the fragility of the BD that are still far from perfect.

There is no such thing as eternity, so /There is no ending until all turns to ash this made me scream Undertaker's BD because we know he needs a full budy for the creation of his dolls and bringing back to life his loved ones. And we know he can't bring back Vincent because his body was too ruined by the fire. So fire IS the only ending in which a person can just die with no possible interference from a Shinigami with resurrection intent.

Tragedy twins

I had no idea of these lines other than, it just fits the vibes. Until I remembered how much Yana likes to mirror the twins.

There's no love, no love, there's no love there: this one is R!Ciel singing. Undertaker may have started to work on the BD out of grief for his loved ones, but it feels like it turned into an obsession.

There's nothing, there's nothing, there's no truth: let's add some angst because this one was not enough. O!Ciel never gets to discover the truth behind the murder of his family before he dies. Maybe we, as readers, can see it. Maybe from Sebastian's eyes. But yeah, we don't have a guarantee that O!Ciel will ever know anything, he could just die with Sebastian being unable to prevent it (either because it happened due to a Shinigami, or maybe an angel or god knows what).

But of course, we can also swap them! O!Ciel was so confident people wouldn't have liked him coming back alive and so started the whole identity swap, so he could still feel like the love he is receiving now is fake, since it's built on a lie. While R!Ciel's truth could now be either the murder or the family again, or the fact that he isn't "real" now. He is a BD, his action and thoughts are based on memories that are likely not his own. He has become a fake, a lie. "There is no truth" because that is a BD similar to him, and not necessary him.

I am exhausted I haven't thought about something this much since my thesis. Yes some of them are quite the stretch, hopefully I will trigger a smart person and finally we get a good analysis. Meanwhile you have to deal with me. Feel free to add your opinions pls, I love hearing theories.

PSA: I have formatted this half on computer and half of phone so idk how weird the formatting is I will check again tomorrow, now I'm tired of rereading it.

[areeis]

Vrains RPG charas (3/4)

Aoi&Aqua

Aoi&Aqua (Elf mage and ignis companion -DEF-ATK strength+MP+turn speed+move speed+evade chance) Fighting style: Close to mid range attacks using a whip, chance to cause poison upon landing a critical Defense style: Aqua generates water bubbles that change from mist to ice to obscure enemy vision and form a protective shield Special: Blue Ring (Surrounds all enemies with a ring of poison, chance to poison, chance to lower turn Speed; casting cost cannot be reduced) Blue Bite (Attacks one target with an icy whip, chance to lower movement Speed, chance to lower turn Speed) Party main: Inventory, debuffs and damage

Takeru&Flame

Takeru&Flame (half beastman warrior and ignis companion +ATK strength-move speed+turn speed+DEF) Fighting style: Close to mid range attacks using claws and Flame's fire Defense style: Takeru doesn't change from attack stance but Flame's fire surrounds him in an effort to protect him from attacks and hold him back Special: Blazing Breaker (Pummels one target with flaming fists, chance to cause burning; own max HP are reduced by 10% with each use until the end of battle) Sky High (Raises own and allies' ATK by 5% for three turns) Party main: Damage and buffs (inventory when on low HP)

[shadowhandss60]

and how Dorian got sick/hurt and Manon takes care of him, or how he returns tired from a meeting with the lords and Manon gives him a massage. I'm sorry, but I want to see Manon's concern🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹❤️

Concerned Manon gets me EVERY TIME. I’m a sucker for when she lets that hard exterior crack.

Anywho, enjoy. Here’s my take on Manon’s reaction after Dorian is severely injured in an ambush. (Your other idea is on my list 😏)

***

"I am not asking. I am telling."

Manon's voice was harsh, colder than the air whistling around the tent, but she didn't care; she was burning with a foreign kind of rage.

The thirteen were silent, tension building, adrenaline still running high from the attack.

It was Asterin who finally broke the silence. "I understand what you're saying-"

"Obviously, you do not, or it would be done." Manon spat, smacking her hand down on the map. "Our mounts are exhausted and hungry. I haven't seen any game, big or small, in days and they are running on fumes. We are all running on fumes, so I need you to stop questioning me and do what I say before we all starve up here."

The ambush earlier didn't just send them off course; it derailed their entire mission.

An avalanche had blocked any possible journey on foot for a hunting party and they needed a week or more to get back on track.

There were passes they needed to travel by foot or risk being spotted and the king was in no condition to be traveling on the back of a wyvern, regardless of his protests. Manon refused to risk him.

"Take your mounts and go south to stock up on food and supplies, it will be better with all as none can carry the food we’ll need; the warmer weather will undoubtedly offer more for food, and we will regroup back here in a week; Abraxos will follow Narene."

Silence fell again.

"And of the King?" Sorrel's words dropped like a stone in Manon's chest, and she barely contained her snarl.

"What of him?"

Sorrel continued, "He's severely injured and drained. The arrows-"

"We have enough supplies and he's survived worse."

Her third's eyes blazed at that, temper rising.

"I am not questioning his abilities, but he is still mortal and took two poison-tipped arrows to the chest; he has been straining his magic more and more every day. With the constant shields, fires for camp, his daily training, and now the battle, I am surprised he survived at all."

Manon surged towards her; there was a lump in her throat, her chest, a spreading ache ever since she heard him shout while she soared above.

She had seen the archer in the trees, the taught string, and the arrows flying.

She saw their mark, back turned. Manon had called out, but it was too late, and she could have sworn she heard the sickening thud as the arrows found their mark even from above.

They hadn't hit their intended target; no, Sorrel had her back turned, firing her own arrow at the witch engaged with Asterin.

Sorrel had likely sensed the death hovering behind her but she still fired to save Manon's second, not thinking for her own life, but someone had been.

The king of Adarlan pushed her out of the way at the last moment, and the arrows meant for Sorrel's back found their home deep in the right side of his chest.

Manon heard him grunt as he fell, propelled by the force of the arrows fired by the immortal and powerful witch. Manon would have ripped her apart if Dorian's magic hadn't snapped the offender's neck.

Abraxos had roared, likely feeling the agony pouring off Manon in waves. The sensation, the feelings stirring in her, felt blinding. She could barely hold her seat as she soared to the field below.

Half of the Thirteen had surrounded the king. The rest had quickly dispatched the remaining bluebloods that had been hunting them.

Manon slid off Abraxos the second he reached the ground, sprinting towards the others. She listened for a heartbeat, but there were too many pounding rhythms to clock in on his usually steady beat.

She refused to believe he was dead.

He was a king, needed for the war, needed for everything that came next, and she, she-

She pushed away the thought, the ice rushing through her veins at the site of him propped up with his left arm around Sorrel.

Unusually dull sapphire eyes had met hers, and she could have sworn something in her cracked.

His normally tan face was pale, sickly, the front of his dark jacket made darker with deep red of his blood, and the snow was drenched in it, so startling against the pools of blue by the fallen witches.

I’ll bleed whatever color you tell me too. His words from all those months ago ran through her mind and she didn’t want him to bleed at all.

Not for this, not like this.

He had given her a weak grin, and she could have raged at him as she now raged at her third.

Sorrel was her family. They all were her sisters through battle at blood, but the confusing mix of emotions roaring through her had her spiraling.

She couldn't think straight, and she couldn't bear the idea of the king dying to save someone else she cared for…she couldn't bear it.

"Choose your next words very carefully." She hissed, no more than a foot away.

"It's not me that you are angry with," Sorrel didn't balk, "I don't think you are angry at all. You are not thinking clearly. We will go if that is what you wish of us, but I suggest you cease with your projecting. I will not deign to say that I know what you are feeling. You need to come to terms with that on your own."

Manon's chest was heaving. No one seemed to breathe as they watched the witches standoff.

Sorrel's words bounced around her head, and her shoulders dropped, the fight leaving her as if it were ripped from her body.

"Please, just go." She stared at her third, her friend, and hoped she could see the plea in her eyes. "I won't have anyone dying in this pass."

They all heard the words unspoken, and Sorrel nodded her head once in agreement. The others left quickly after.

Manon flinched when a hand rested on her shoulder, but she didn't need to turn to know it was her cousin.

"Go to him. I will see to it that your orders are carried out."

Manon took a deep breath but didn't speak. She left the main war tent and made her way to the smaller one she shared with the king. She stopped at the entrance, schooling her features before going in.

When she entered, the scent of death lingered.

She had seen him almost succumb to his injuries at full power in Rifthold when he had been struck by the wyvern's tail, but now, after weeks of shielding their scents, weeks of training and killing and healing their ailments, and now his own, he was fading.

She knew the poison was raging through him, and the wounds had been made worse as the arrowheads were meant to shred flesh if pulled out so they had to shove the arrows through to the other side instead.

Manon could still hear the sounds, hear his teeth grinding as he bit down on the leather strap Sorrel had passed him, could hear his muffled screams as the arrow hit bone.

Manon had wished he would have passed out, wished she could get thouse sounds out of her head

His healing abilities and Asterin's own gentle hands were what kept him on this side of the darkness.

He stirred as she entered; it was still light enough outside that she could see him in the darkness as he moved to sit up.

She rushed forward; her promise from a few seconds ago to remain unaffected was broken quickly.

"Lay down." She barked out, her tone not gentle, but her hands against his abdomen were as she ushered him back down to his bedroll. "Are you a fool?"

He chuckled low; the sound was rough but still eased some of the ache in her. "Is that a rhetorical question, or are you truly seeking an answer?" He was smiling, damn him, smiling like he hadn't nearly died hours before, like he wasn't possibly dying.

"I know the answer already."

"In that case, I'd love to hear it." His hand lifted towards her, resting on her knee where she kneeled beside him.

There was a pregnant pause as she moved the blankets to check his wounds.

A sickly green color spread from the two jagged, angry wounds below his collarbone, now sealed by neat line of sutures that Asterin had stitched.

It was Manon who meant to do it, but her cousin took the supplies from her shaking hands without question.

"Why didn't you find another way?" She whispered as she reached for the clean cloth she had brought, dipping it in the sterilized water filled with herbs that assisted with healing.

He hissed as she touched it to his skin but didn't move, she’s get to the wounds on his back tomorrow. "Ice, wind, those damned hands you used to snap the witch's neck. Are you so ready to die to seal the gate that you are trying to speed up the process?"

She hadn't meant for her voice to rise as she spoke but the thought of that witch, what she wished she could have done to make her suffer, and the phantom sound of those arrows tearing through his skin played over and over again in her mind.

She could feel him tense as he spoke, "I was drained. However endless my magic may be, I still don't know how to channel all aspects of it. Rowan said I may never be able to without a proper trainer. I had already had my sites on the witch when I noticed Soresl was her target. I was already on edge, already fighting, I couldn't be certain that my magic wouldn't harm Sorrel-"

"So you decided some foolish heroics were in order? You are mortal; she would have survived-"

He scoffed, cutting her off. "You must truly think me a fool. You and I both know she would be dead within seconds. I may be mortal, but you were the one who told me the wyvern's poison can kill even the strongest among you. My healing isn't mastered enough to heal a wound of that caliber on another but with my own body I does it on it’s own.."

He was right. He knew it. She knew it.

Another pause and she sifted through what she was feeling, trying to latch onto something, anything in the torrent of anger, pain, and …fear.

She finally admitted it to herself, and her breathing guttered at the realization.

She was afraid, afraid of losing him of seeing the light burn out in those sapphire eyes.

She was afraid.

"You could have died." She held his gaze for a moment as the words left her lips but looked away as she saw him register the small crack in her voice.

His hand was cool when he gripped her wrist, halting her movements.

"But I didn't." He ran his thumb along the inside of her wrist, and she couldn't bring herself to hide her shudder.

"Hey," he squeezed her wrist slightly. "Look at me." She did.

The fire she usually saw was dosed, barely there, but the stubbornness and strength remained.

"I'm not dying; I can feel that much." He stroked her wrist again, and she rested her other hand on the taught muscles of his abdomen, needing to feel the rise and fall of his chest to confirm. "In a day or two, I will be right back to my charming self, and you can go back to wishing me dead."

She huffed a laugh, and the pounding in her chest began to settle. "I never wish that." Was all she said.

He released her wrist and raised his uninjured arm to her face, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear before he rested his palm on her cheek, and she swallowed, throat bobbing.

"I thought you were dead." She whispered.

He stared at her, gaze flicking between her eyes, voice quiet. "I thought I was too, but I would have done it again."

'Why?" She shook her head slightly, incredulous. "You have no true loyalty to us; no one would have blamed you had you been unable to save her."

He looked away at that, as if in thought. His hand slid from her cheek down her arm, her skin underneath her leathers buzzing at the contact before he rested it at her hip. His long fingers circled absentmindedly as he spoke.

"Much of my life has been stagnant, allowing awful things to happen around me. Though I always abhorred what my father did and knew I had no true power to stop it, I do now." Sapphire met gold again. "I won't stand by and let others die if I can help it."

Manon scooted closer, a balm spreading through her limbs where they connected.

"And I am loyal to them." He squeezed her hip slightly and she sighed internally. "To you."

They stared at one another as she shifted to lay beside him. He moved his hand from her hip and shifted his body slightly to face her, ignoring her protests.

She braced her head on her arm as she looked at the selfless, brave, beautiful man before her and tried not to dwell on what her feelings meant.

Tried not to look too close at the truth of her reaction.

She reached out, allowing herself to bask in his comforting presence and allowing herself to seek a bit more as she brushed the damp, raven-black waves from his forehead.

His eyes closed at the contact and she smiled though he couldn't see her.

She continued to brush his hair back and a quiet sound of contentment rumbled in his chest, Manon felt him drifting off and finally spoke.

"I'm glad you're not dead, princeling." He opened his eyes, lifting his finger to brush a knuckle against her cheek. "But if you do that again, I'll kill you myself."

He chuckled, smile dazzling and grazed her cheek once more before he dropped his hand. He rested it near her abdomen as if he, too, sought comfort in her closeness.

"I'll keep that in mind." Was the last thing he said before he drifted off.

****

Manon didn't sleep for hours, couldn't sleep. Though it was muted, she could still feel the fear stirring in her chest, a pacing beast she hated to confront.

She watched the king sleep, still stroking his hair as his breaths settled.

She shifted closer to him later in the night, tentatively lifting her arm to drape across his stomach, the action foreign to her.

She needed to know he continued to draw breath, that he was still with her.

She had never let him hold her, they had never allowed themselves to reprieves that would offer such intimacies but she needed this tonight.

His body gradually warmed as his magic fought the poison, and she sighed into his uninjured side.

Tomorrow, she'd surely kick herself for showing such weakness.

In the light of day, she may shut down again as the fear takes over. It would remind her of how helpless she was, how deeply she felt for the man beside her, but tonight?

She would allow herself this luxury; she would allow herself him.

[kalevalakryze]

talyc mir’am

“Yield.” The smooth monotone rumbled against her back, warm and steady like the rhythm of the golden woman’s heart, thundering beneath the confines of its cage. “Never” Bo-Katan spat, spittle sprinkling against the insides of her helmet. AO3: Here!

For Nitearmor Week Day 1!!!

There was no long list of things that Bo-Katan Kryze wouldn’t do for her people. She’d given Mandalorians and Mandalore everything she had on more than one occasion. With her sacrifices, an unshakable way of thinking was born in the embers of her home as it burned to the ground. 

They can hurt you, they can break you, and they can kill you, but they will never rule Mandalore.

When Din Djarin had returned to the planet and found that the only poison in its atmosphere was the sickness in the minds of the survivors, she would have assumed it out of a nightmare, rather than a dream. But they’d returned to the planet, and she was granted the ability to set foot on its ruined surface, to feel the freezing depths of the living waters on her skin once again, and, right from the legends, to see a Mythosaur in all its glory, and to find solace in… Well… They weren’t her people… but they were Mandalorian. And they made her into their  people. 

She moved through the Children of the Watch with unease, still felt an unknown anxiety clawing at the depths of her innards with each conversation she had with their people, could feel the way sweat perspirated on her brow and dampened the seal around her throat. The planet’s  heat didn’t make it much better, and the whispering around each corner only ignited the scorching inferno into a blaze she could not control. 

“Cautionary Tale.” Murmured one green and blue painted warrior. “...foredoomed.” She heard another whisper with conviction, as if the woman herself was a walking omen of failure upon failure. 

The weight only grew stronger on her shoulders with each meal eaten alone, with each night that found her soaking the aches of warfare in whatever ales she could find hidden aboard her ship. For a rainy day Koska would joke, as if they hadn’t been camping on Trask when she’d created each stash. 

The burning of her clan and planet would fade all the same, each night she found solace aboard her Kom’rk and drew shades over the transparisteel, allowing her solace in the comfort of solitude, a perfect attendance for her pity party. 

She settled her weight heavily into her pilots chair, allowing her helmet to clatter as she set it at her feet, seat creaking as her head dropped back and the springs adjusted to her weight once again. The neck of the bottle was cool enough to sink into the thick material of her gloves, condensation swating off the glass and pooling in the creases of goraslug leather. “This ones for you, Satine,” She grumbled, low and hoarse as she took a pull from the bottle.

Even the burning of Corellian whiskey couldn’t sate the holes in her bones, was unsuccessful in quenching the fires of a thousand tears from pricking at her heels urging her to run. You’ll burn them too.

There was a rapping of knuckles at the metal ramp to her ship. Desperate to chase away the ghosts she’d made along the way, Bo-Katan had only just remembered to grab up her helmet, allowing the glass bottle to take its place on the floor. Consoles beeped as she smacked the hydraulic release, allowing the ramp to lower as she straightened her demeanor. 

Artificial lights caught on the almost bronze gold of a helmet, highlighting the different colors of sunkissed fur along the Armorer’s fur cape as she strode up the ramp. Even in a place where she did not seem as if she belonged, the woman took up space, her presence was one that demanded to be known, even if the deity herself was one accustomed to shadows. 

Like a band snapping back into place, Bo-Katan found that her muscles tensed, her knees locked against her better judegment, and her chin rose. A way to say I belong here, even when the evidence proved otherwise. “Can I help you?” The Nite Owl queried, fighting to keep her hands stagnated at her side as her chin bowed, watching as the Armorer came just within a step of herself. 

The shorter womans head did not move, she couldn’t make anything out with the damned helmet concealing every reaction she was trained to read. All she could do was wait with bated breath until she could watch the other woman’s hands move just a fraction away from the tools at her belt. “I would like to see you in action…” Her smooth timber seemed to echo across the durasteel walls all around them.

Bo-Katan paused then, brows furrowing beneath the protection of her helmet. “The pirates…” She allowed herself to trail off then. Saving Ragnar, bringing the covert younglings… It was yet another example of how she could just never give enough of herself to satisfy anyone…

“In a controlled setting. I would like to see you in action where a life is not at stake.” The Armorer clarified, there was nothing mocking in her tone, but a playfulness, something almost like a familiarity that resided in the discordant notes of her vocoder. Bo-Katan bristled in unease when she realized she could not tell if she hated being seen, or if the first pair of eyes to see her through that dark tint was enough to crack through her own metaphysical beskar. 

Swallowing thickly, Bo-Katan nodded her agreement; she’d never been one to turn down a fight, perhaps a one-day fatal flaw of hers, though one she had no intention of giving up anytime soon. 

When the Armorer turned to sweep from the depths of self immulation and despair, Bo-Katan followed close on her heels as she could get without earning herself a second look. The ghosts did not need to see the light of day, these people did not deserve to be burdened by her failures any moreso than they already were. “Where are we going?” She rasped as they passed by quiet tents, the sounds of dead night creeping into her bones. 

“The shore.” The warrior spoke as if it were the only logical place, as if Bo-Katan had done more than follow in Din’s footsteps, careful not to step a toe out of line in fear that she would lose this too. 

The sand was uneven under her boots, pebbles and shells crunching under her weight as they moved from dry sand into the muck of what had been left from the tide, sodden greenery picking into the tracks of their boots and refusing to let go. The Armorer moved across this ground as if it were a minefield, and she laid all the charges, while Bo seemed to blunder into every treat waiting to wrap itself around her ankles and make a home in her greaves. 

“Do you have any limits?” The Armorer questioned as a circle was slowly dragged through the sand, leaving Bo-Katan clueless in the center. 

“What? Oh-” A pause, a blink, and a deep breath. No Mandalorian had ever been willing to set ground rules for a sparring match before, no one bothered to learn each other’s limits. The vode at your side would be dead if they made a limit, she’s testing you. “I’m alright.”

The dark visor turned to stare at her, contemplating for a moment. “Alright…” A gloved hand rose towards her own throat, thick leather padded fingers pulling ar the seal of cloth around her throat. “This is my limit. Nothing above the shoulders, please.” 

The admission of a weakness, of a preferred place to stray from an attack, was staggering; How could she believe they were born from the Watch, when she herself had killed recruits for as much as the Armorer was doing now, when Pre had so willingly tossed away Mandalorian lives, because they admitted weakness… Was that strength? Or was it a trait she could only see as a strength in the Armorer?

Her throat felt too dry to speak, so she nodded her head in understanding, marking the memory in the stone of her brain. The dying torchlight caught off the Armorer’s visor, setting the various golden tones of her helmet ablaze. The two stood in silence, waiting for the other to make the first move with bated breath. 

The dirt crunched under her boots as she sprung forward, the rermaining alcohol  in her system burnning through her muscles as they remembered the thrill of sparring over fighting for her life. She moved slower than normal, ensuring she would not pass the Armorer’s boundary while still being able to test the woman’s speed against a flurry of punches and jabs of the knee, all redirected to a point where the Niteowl could redirect the energy into another hit. 

Bo-Katan’s breath was ragged, fogging up the material of her visor as she worked to land a hit, the metal of her hand plates making an awful scraping sound each time her fist managed to drag across the crimson beskar of the shorter woman’s armor. 

A leather gloved hand curled tight around her gauntlet, fingers curled just enough to avoid triggering the canisters that would ignite to bathe them all in flame. Squaring her shoulders and pushing back against the restraining force, Bo-Katan Kryze bared her teeth beneath her helmet, offering only a primordial growl as she struggled through the sheer power descending upon her. 

She’s fought stronger, after all. The Armorer wouldn’t prove too much of a challenge, once she inevitably went to make an attempt on Bo’s life. She knew it was coming, anyways…

The armorer managed to wind Bo-Katan’s arm behind her back, wrenching the limb and pulling overworked muscles further than the beskar constructing her body would typically allow her to go. “Yield.” The smooth monotone rumbled against her back, warm and steady like the rhythm of the golden woman’s heart, thundering beneath the confines of its cage. 

“Never” Bo-Katan spat, spittle sprinkling against the insides of her helmet. The Nite Owl bent at the waist and jerked her hips backwards, upending the Armorer’s steady footing and sending her backwards. The weight against her back was gone in the clinging of armor against the dirt, moonlight reflecting up at Bo-Katan from the dark void of the shorter woman’s visor. 

Her breathing was distorted, coming in harsh gasps and leaving through the painful exhales that concaved her body and threatened to crush her ribs, audible through her vocoder, a complete contrast to the Armorer’ who’s chest appeared to still rise and lower as if she’d no more than laid herself down of her own volition. The silence between them was thick with tension as Bo-Katan gathered herself for what was next. Would she try to sweep her legs from beneath her? Would she produce a blaster and put plasma in the space between her chestplace and abdomen plate? Or would she simply order her to leave? Anxieties prickled into dangerous territory the longer time slugged forward, until at last, Bo-Katan’s head dropped along with her shoulders, content to leave the woman in the dust if it meant she could save herself the shame of being verbally sent away. 

“Raise your head,”  Brows furrowing, the redhead watched uselessly as the other woman rose from the ground, tracked the way a gloved hand raised, then lowered back to her side, before finally crossing the distance to meet the underside of her helmet. 

Her touch was gentle, fingers gently curling around the rim of her helmet, if only to raise her chin herself, until the Armorer was forced to tilt her own chin to keep looking at her. 

Bo-Katan swallowed thickly, chewing on the inside of her cheek as her eyes flickered towards the night sky, always finding the twinkling lights of the Mandalore system in the depths of the sky. The silence didn’t seem so thick here, as the Armorer’s fingers stayed curled around her helmet, and the nightlife around them seemed to release its own breath, critters and the like resuming with their nightly symphony all around them. 

It seemed an eternity that they stayed in such a state, Bo-Katan, mesmerized by the stars that reflected from the top of the Armorer’s helmet, and the goran’alor herself, mesmerized in an entirely different view of the woman from the legends. 

She didn’t want to leave, and while that was a fact Bo-Katan knew since Din had brought her to his people, it was stranger to realize that it was the Armorer’s presence that she didn’t want to leave the most. “I must retire…” She spoke at last, always the one to hold the blade that would sever her own connections to any form of tranquility. 

“Of course…” The Armorer seemed shaken from her own stupor as her arm dropped back to her side. As she went to turn back into the direction of her tent, her head turned back, watching as Bo-Katan fidgeted in the moonlight. “And Bo,” The Mandalorian went rigid at the name, head cocking to the side as she focused her sole attention back on the shorter woman. “Mandalorians are stronger together.”

Leaving Bo-Katan with her final statement, something she could only hope to understand through their coming trials and tribulations, the Armorer did not offer a second glance, leaving Bo-Katan to watch her disappear into the darkness of the camp before slogging her way back to her ship, hopeful to catch enough sleep to function for the attack on Nevarro. 

[sspextkr]

the weather outside is frightful - party poison/male!reader fluffmas ao3

Christmas in the Zones- Who would've thought such a thing existed? It's barely celebrated because of hundreds of reasons- The desert isn't the most Christmas-y climate, everything you find is used for survival, and there aren't any goddamn trees to decorate. Still, that doesn't mean the spirit of it is lost- Renamed 'Giving Day', celebrated through a vigil, you find yourself getting the best, yet most unexpected gift of all.

lots of unnecessary world building but my excuse is that im neurodivergent also you can ignore that the reader is male if you want im just gay, lots of pining, read on tumblr v or on ao3 (link above ^)

Christmas in the Zones- Who would've thought such a thing existed? It's barely celebrated because of hundreds of reasons- The desert isn't the most Christmas-y climate, everything you find is used for survival, and there aren't any goddamn trees to decorate. Still, that doesn't mean the spirit of it is lost- The sacred holiday has been renamed as 'Giving Day', and it's celebrated by vigil. You can either meet up with others by a bonfire, or celebrate it with your own crew. Crowds are too much for most of your crew- The Fab Four- So, you set up camp in the parking lot of The Diner. There's an unspoken truce between the dozens of killjoys that roam the desert, so you don't have to worry about your fire being spotted and your camp being ambushed.

The whole point of the Vigil is so you can have time to reflect on the past year, and say your thanks to the Phoenix Witch for keeping everyone safe, maybe make some resolutions and some plans to end this goddamn war. It seems pointless- Third year in a row of doing this and nothing has changed. If anything, things have only gotten worse.

You sat there awkwardly in front of the blaze, holding your hands out to try and keep yourself warm. Party was cleaning their gun off to the side, a sour look etched on their face. Ghoul and Kobra were off to the side, playing tic-tac-toe in the sand and Jet was observing what looked like a lizard while finishing off a rabbit leg. No one had said a word since you had set up camp, and it was getting a bit uncomfortable.

You cleared your throat before sitting back. "So.. Anyone gonna say grace or-?"

"What is there to grace?" Party groaned. "We're no closer to finding The Girl, it smells like rabbit shit, and my gun's fuckin' jammed-"

"Now it feels like Giving Day." Kobra added in, Ghoul laughing in response.

"This year hasn't been all that bad, c'mon-" You scoffed, giving the redhead a look as sour as their own. "Remember that battery station we found out in Zone 3, hm? It was a risk getting there and back, but we got loads of shit that kept us going for a good while!" They only huffed in response. "And- We took out that massive cloud of Dracs the other day, yeah? Must've ghosted like.. 15 at least. You gotta lighten up a little, man."

"But if you weigh the pros to the cons-"

"Nuh-uh. Zip it." You cut them off, getting up and walking over to them. "Can't you get your head out of your ass for one day, and just relax? You can be a prick in the morning."

"He's right, y'know." Jet chimed in through his chewing. "Just take it easy for five minutes at least. You'll feel better, trust me."

Party grimaced before setting their gun down to the side, raising an eyebrow at you and giving you a look that said 'Ya happy now?' You nodded, sitting down by them. Party pulled their knees up to their chest, resting their head on top of them and wrapping their arms around themselves. Their unpleasant demeanor persisted, but it wasn't quite as vicious. You pat their shoulder sympathetically.

"Welp.. If no one is gonna do it.." Ghoul mumbled under his breath, getting up and moving to the center by the bonfire. He cleared his throat before beginning to speak in a dramatic and slightly obnoxious tone. "O' Mighty Witch! We thank thou for thy protection and thy support throughout these heartaches! May thou continue to lead us through these conundrums, and lead us into better days!"

You laughed softly at his antics, watching as he went on and on like he was performing a damn play or something. The others got a kick out of it, too, it seemed- Even Party gave a snort of amusement. When he finished, he bowed, and then burst into a fit of laughter himself.

"Well.. I don't think anyone's gonna beat that." Jet snorted, tossing the bone of his rabbit leg off to the side before standing up with a stretch. "I think I'm gonna turn in for the night."

"Aw, c'mon-" You pouted playfully. "I'm sure you got a speech somewhere in you."

"Nothing as good as that. G'night." He ruffled your hair before walking off and heading inside the Diner, door slamming shut behind him. Why was that door so damn loud, anyway? You'd think it was made of titanium or something.

"I think I'm gonna turn in, too. I'm still in all sorts of pain from that fire fight the other day-" Kobra finally spoke up, wiping the lenses of his sunglasses off with the sleeve of his red leather jacket. "Don't get into too much trouble." He told Ghoul, who stuck his tongue out in protest.

Ghoul glanced at you before getting up as well, giving you a look. “I.. Think I will too. ‘Night, y’all.” That little fucker. 

You may have accidentally confessed to him on a drunken night that you had a crush on your fearless leader. You were hoping he had been too drunk to remember, but when would the universe ever grant you something as kind as that?

Ghoul winked before leaving you and Party alone by the dying fire. They got up and rearranged a few of the logs, striking another match or two to keep it burning bright. You were supposed to leave it going all night, granting the Phoenix Witch safe passage as she roamed the Zones.

“You’re not going to bed?” Party asked, sounding hesitant as they tossed another few twigs into the fire. Their soft features were illuminated by the warm glow of the fire, leaving you feeling a little breathless, although you’d never admit it to anyone.

You shook your head no after snapping out of your trance, your cheeks nearly going as red as their hair in embarrassment. “I’m not tired. Plus, I got some Giving Day thinking to do, y'know?"

"Yeah?" They turned, now fully facing you. "Whatcha thinking about?"

"Oh.. Uh.. Just Zone shit.. You know how it is." Party didn't buy it, you could tell, but they didn't press it either. They never were one to press or intrude, only insisting if it was a life or death situation. A part of you was thankful, but the other part wished they cared a little more. Maybe it was for the best they didn't, though. You were the outsider, only in their crew because they found you bleeding to death on the side of the road, still a kid. Kids could be pitied. But now that you had grown up? Not so much. "A lot has happened lately."

"Damn straight.." They replied, giving you their signature grin that sent your heart soaring once more. They were so goddamn charming and attractive without even trying, which was incredibly unfair. They took their seat beside you again, sitting a little closer than last time. 'Don't overthink it.', you told yourself.

They stayed quiet by your side, hazel eyes locked on the fire in front of them. That was another thing you had come to notice with them- They had a thing for fire. They loved the stuff, lighting fires when possible and always playing in it, seeing what they could burn and what couldn't be burnt. You're surprised they haven't burned themselves yet.

The silence was broken by the sound of Party reaching over to their beat up backpack and pulling something out, speaking to you in an impossibly soft tone. "I got you something, by the way."

You turned your head, attention caught instantly. Party getting you something? No fucking way. They shifted closer, holding out their hand to you to reveal a small necklace resting on their leather clad palm. Dull silver chains with a charm in the middle that looked like it was supposed to resemble a cassette tape. ".. Oh.. Wow.. This is-" You stumbled over your words, giving a giddy laugh. "I love it. It's incredible."

"Yeah?" They gave you another smile. "Want me to put it on you?" They looked down at the necklace, unclasping the chain. You nodded, turning your head and pulling back your hair. Carefully, they draped the necklace around your neck, adjusting the sizing before clasping it shut and letting it go.

You turned back towards them, now looking at the charm that rested on your chest. ".. Thank you."

Party nodded, gently holding the charm between two of their fingers. They were dangerously close, soft breath ghosting over your neck. It nearly made you shiver. "Found it the other day, I kid you not, laying in the desert sand.. And it reminded me of you, I guess." They looked back up towards you, hazel eyes doused with something unusually affectionate.

You couldn't stop yourself from leaning in a tad bit closer, gaze flickering down to their parted lips for a brief second. ".. Tell me I'm reading this wrong."

"You're not." They reached a gloved hand up and brushed a strand of your hair out of your face, fingers gently caressing your cheek. "I've heard what Ghoul's said, seen the looks he's given.. And I'd be a fool not to do anything about it."

Before you could even comprehend what they had said, they leaned in, and kissed you tenderly. It was soft, hesitant, giving you the chance to pull away at any moment. Like you would. You brought your own hand up and cupped their jaw tenderly, drawing them in closer as you kissed back, eyes fluttering shut. It was odd to think that they were even capable of being this gentle or this sweet, normally acting loud and disruptive. Maybe this side was saved for you.

You broke off the kiss when you needed to breathe, hearing them make a small sound of disappointment. Holy hell. You kissed them again when you had caught your breath- Firmer. Party was the one to break this kiss.

".. Well, I'll be damned." They breathed, resting their forehead against your own. "Looks like I got the best gift of all, hm?"

"Oh, shush-"

"Make me." 

And you did, with another kiss.

[blackjackkent]

All right, time to learn to fight Thisobald!

Our boy the booze elephant ("Wretched Distiller") is uh. Sure something.

That's... gross. :P At max damage he could two-shot Rakha by burping.

Numb also makes things somewhat complicated. Rakha's party, though, is actually better suited to this fight than Hector's would have been; Hector's primary damage dealers at this point were himself and Karlach who did bludgeoning and slashing damage respectively. Rakha has a bit more of a spread by comparison; she herself focuses on fire, Wyll does force and necrotic damage with Eldritch Blast, Minthara does radiant with Divine Smite and various other things (or potentially fire with Searing Smite). Lae'zel's weapon is a slasher but also does 1d4 psychic damage, and Minthara can use Inquisitor's might to imbue it with some extra radiant as well.

Also we're on easy mode. :P Thankfully.

-----

After Action Report:

OK this fight is actually a bit more goofy than I thought at first glance. Thisobald's reflux feature CHANGES based on the type of damage you do to him!

I had to do a couple reloads to try out different damage types to see what happened. Each of them changes the feature name, a new skill associated with it, and dialogue from Thisobald and Rakha in response.

ACID DAMAGE "Acid Reflux" -> "Acidic Regurgitation" Thisobald: "SIZZLE! FIZZLE! MELT!" Rakha: "Watch it - the acid's altered his brew!"

FIRE DAMAGE "Burning Reflux" -> "Fiery Regurgitation" Thisobald: "Fire and flames, blaze and burn!" Rakha: "Flaming brew? This battle's taken a heated turn."

COLD DAMAGE "Cold Reflux" -> "Icy Regurgitation" Thisobald: "Brr. Cold, chilled, frozen." Rakha: "The brew's been chilled!"

LIGHTNING DAMAGE "Electrified Reflux" -> "Electrified Regurgitation" Thisobald: "Lightning strikes. Drink up!" Rakha: "Damn - the brew's acquired a spark!"

NECROTIC DAMAGE "Rotten Reflux" -> "Rotting Regurgitation" Thisobald: "Drink of dead, dying, death. Order up!" Rakha: "The drink - it's turned necrotic!"

POISON DAMAGE "Toxic Reflux" -> "Venomous Regurgitation" Thisobald: "I've picked your poison!" Rakha: "Hells. His brew's turned to poison!"

I just love that Rakha, who is like the least one-liner-ish person, ends up cracking jokes here. This is clearly not her canon behavior but I thought it was funny. :P

Anyway. There's probably some kind of interesting strategy one could do here around orchestrating him having a particular damage type that would be beneficial to us, but I am not thinking that strategically about it. XD

I did have Lae'zel focus on the other four little zombies wandering around the place since we have to fight them too and her damage is more effective on them. Everyone else just sort of laser focused on Thisobald to try to burst him down.

The other interesting mechanic here is that every time Thisobald does a puke attack, he gets drunker. After three attacks he is "Profoundly Intoxicated":

This is basically how he died with Hector - exploded after drinking too much - so it would certainly simplify things if we didn't have to bust his health bar all the way down.

And sure enough, after his next fire puke:

Nice. Rakha was downed in the fire but Minthara, being the hardened warriors that she is, immediately prioritized beating the shit out of their adversary:

Obliterated.

"A shame, what the shadows did to him," Wyll says thoughtfully, looking down at the strange, bloated corpse. "His death gives me no pleasure."

It's perhaps a good thing that Rakha is still unconscious when he says this, because probably neither he nor she would be very proud about what she would have to say about how much pleasure Thisobald's death gave her.

[forlornmelody]

Outlaws, Chapter 2: Bad Things

Rating: Explicit (Smut, violence, drug addiction.)

Fandom: DC Comics, Titans (2018-2023) to be specific.

Ship: Jason Todd/Rose Wilson. Rose Wilson/Roy Harper. Jason Todd/Roy Harper, Rose Wilson/Artemis of Bana-Mighdall,

Summary:  The road to redemption is fraught with twists and turns, especially when one has been to hell and back. Jason Todd swore he’d never work with a team again, but when a familiar foe shows up in Gotham, A.R.G.U.S. leaves him little choice.

Note: chapter titles are named for songs from my Outlaws playlist. This one is named for "Bad Things" by K.Flay

Link: here

--

It’s a terse day at Gotham National Bank. Their rival, Gotham Financial, got hit the week before. Their safes cleared out, their executives and security guards dead. It was only luck that the bank was closed for the day when the robbers hit. The customers don’t seem to notice, or care. Maybe it’s just Gotham. Risking your life running errands is the price of dirt-cheap rent, after all.

It’s a hot day at Gotham National Bank. The tellers sweat as they handle transactions, and the bankers wipe their foreheads as they instruct their clients to sign on the electronic pads. Somewhere on the roof, HVAC techs grumble as they work on the broken system, cruising the engineers who cut corners, again. Honestly, some Joker gas funneling through the fans would be a blessing in this weather, wouldn’t it?

But it’s not Joker gas that gets them this time.

BANG.

The heavy gold-plated doors slam open, and she enters shadowed by the blazing sun behind her. Her crimson hair glows as if on fire, and her green eyes simmer with fury. One teller hits the panic button with his toe, and another next to him watches as half a dozen security guards train their sights on her like a small army.

And an army is exactly what Poison Ivy wants.

She holds up her hands in mock surrender but keeps walking forward. A green mist, visible only for the sun shimmering in its wake, flies from her fingers.

At first, nothing happens.

But the security guard closest to the door, one week from his retirement party, has witnessed a Gotham bank robbery before. And he’s heard the stories of what that woman can do. He’s more disappointed that there’s not a kiss involved. He aims his gun at the guard next to him. That guard aims at the guard across the room–next to the vault. And then they all fire on each other.

The bank manager walks toward the vault, unperturbed by the screams of the customers and employees. “Right this way, Ivy.”

Her eyes flash. “Queen Ivy.”

—

Breathe in…2…3….4…out…2….3….4…5…6…and in…2..3…4

Jericho swears by this exercise. Says it gets him to sleep every night without a problem. Good for him.

Breathe in…2..3….4….ou–

There’s a knock at the door. Rose squints at her phone. Who the fuck knocks at 1 in the morning?

Yanking the door open, Rose says “Whatever it is, Roy. I’m not fucking–Jason??”

He smiles at her as if nothing has changed between them–that gentle smile that he seemed to save just for her–that soft smile that twists her gut into a knot. “Hey,” he says, barely above a whisper. “Can I come in?”

Rose–who always exists five seconds in the future, who always has a quip or a comeback at the ready–can’t find the words. She just opens the door and lets Jason Peter Todd just waltz right in. Like nothing ever happened. Like they never broke up. Like she never broke his nose. She should say something. Not just stare at him.

Jason’s taller now. He’s stopped putting gel in his hair–letting his curls have free reign. He’s still got that scar on his left temple–strange how the Lazarus Pit didn’t take it away. Rose starts thinking about the scars he’s got under his shirt…and below his belt before she can stop herself–focus. His eyes watch hers, and his soft smile turns into the slightest grin. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too.” The words fall from her lips before she can stop them. Fucking hell, Rose.

He closes in, one hand cupping her face and the other winding through her hair as he kisses her. Rose kisses back, her hands roaming across his shoulders, his back, his hips–only half-convinced he’s really there. She should come up for air, but she drowns in him instead.

“Did you?” Jason says playfully, tumbling into bed with her. “Did you miss this?” He murmurs, kissing her neck in that spot that makes her melt. “Or this?” Her tank flies off, and his. Planting gentle kisses on the tops of her breasts, he bats her hands away from his sweats. “Or this?”

Rose swallows, watching him trail kisses down her abs, to her shorts. Jason glances up at her mischievously, edging them down, letting his breath ghost across the wet spot on her panties. “Oh, you have.”

“Fuck you.”

“Mm, you first.” He snickers against the fabric, planting a few lingering kisses, peeling the soaked fabric off her skin. Jason breathes her in. “Fuck, you’re so wet.”

All she can do is whimper his name as he tastes her, slowly, gently worshiping the feel of her melting at his touch. Her fingers grip those soft curls as Jason picks up the pace, watching her with a knowing look in his eyes. Jason adds one finger, then another, easing them in and out, curling them just at the right spot. Rose arcs off the mattress, swearing. She’s so close–so close–

Just as she’s about to cum, Jason leans down to whisper in her ear. “Miss me?”

Rose shoots awake, panting for air, with every nerve on fire. The empty space next to her in the bed is as cold as ever. She almost reaches down to finish what her dream started but thinks better of it. Jason’s her teammate, again–she can’t be thinking about him like this. Not when he probably hates the air she breathes. And rightfully so. Cold shower it is.

Throwing on a hoodie, Rose stumbles out of her room. She turns to head down the hall towards the bathroom, only to collide someone’s hard chest. Rose recognizes the scent–Armani–musk with a barrage of tea-like flavors that just screams money–she used to give Jason so much shit for it. You’ve any idea how much I sweat in that fucking uniform? he’d snap back. In the end, Rose used to sleep next to the t-shirt she stole from his luggage, long after he left.

“Uh–” Rose grunts, looking up at his wide green eyes. Those same eyes that looked at her with desire just minutes before. The same eyes that glared at her with disgust when blood poured from his nose.

Jason staggers back. “Rose,” he whispers.

“Good night,” she mutters, darting around him before he can say anything else.

—----

“Another nightmare?” Artemis doesn’t look directly at Rose, just smirking at their reflections in the gym mirror.

“Shut up.” Rose wraps up her wrists, glowering right back at that smirk, wanting to wipe it right off.

“Make me.” She doesn’t even bother to turn around.

Rose doesn’t know what’s going to happen next, and she’s more than okay with that. Fuck the future. She charges at Artemis, swinging for her head.

Artemis doesn’t duck. She just turns, sweeping Rose off her feet with a well-aimed kick. Rose falls to her back on the mat. Okay, maybe she’s off her game. Get up, her dead father’s voice yells in her head. Tilting her hips up, Rose launches her legs, wrapping them around Artemis’s legs, bringing her down on top. Some of that fiery red hair falls from her bun, fanning around Rose’s head as they breathe each other’s air. “Answer the question, Rose.”

It’s Rose’s turn to smirk. “Make me.”

Artemis’s mouth crashes into hers. It’s all lips and teeth until Rose hooks her leg over hers, flipping them over so she’s on top. She grins down at her, digging her fingers into that red hair, biting down her neck in a fashion that’s sure to leave a mark. Shoving her hand up Rose’s sports bra, Artemis murmurs “What was it this time? Falling off a cliff? Murder chase?”

Goddammit. Rose bites her neck harder in reply, pressing the heel of her hand into Artemis’s shorts. “Fuck you.”

“That’s the idea.” Artemis rolls them over. “But maybe we should take this to my room?”

Gym. Right.

Rose answers by pulling Artemis up by a fistful of her crop top, dragging them both into the hallway, and into her room. The amazon locks the door behind her, smirking at Rose as she takes in the sight of her. “You are a mess, Wilson.”

Fuck, it feels good to be looked at like that. “And whose fault is that?”

“And I plan to make it worse.” Artemis presses forward, running her hands up and down Rose’s sides.

This time, Rose doesn’t have a comeback. Not a verbal one anyway. She slips her fingers underneath Artemis’s top, grinning at the goosebumps that rise across the amazon’s skin. Rose presses a kiss against her neck, tasting the salt her workout left behind, melting at the soft sound she makes.

Artemis pushes her to arm’s length, with one hand on Rose’s shoulder. She can’t help but admire the way it makes the amazon’s muscles flex. “What do you want from me?”

Rose shrugs her off and starts to kneel down, but that same arm catches her and holds her in place.

“Rose. What do you want from me?”

The question stops her short. To get Jason out of my head. But Rose has a feeling that answer won’t get her what she wants. She swallows, whispering. “I want you to use me.” Same difference.

Artemis’s eyes darken with want, and her fingers grip Rose’s chin, drinking in the sight of her. “As you wish.” She tugs Rose toward the bed, pushing her down with one arm against her shoulder. Rose falls onto the bed without fighting back, goosebumps traveling up her spine as she sees the amazon fish around in her bedside drawer. Kneeling on the bed, Artemis slings one muscular thigh on each side of Rose’s hips, her sweaty breasts right above Rose’s face as she ties her wrists to the headrest with silk scarves. “So you want to be used,” she says as she shimmies out of her gym shorts, and her boyshorts. “Why don’t I start with that smart mouth of yours, no?”

Rose wets her lips, her gut twisting as Artemis grabs the headrest behind her head and shifts forward so that her thighs straddle either side of Rose’s face. The musk of her cunt overwhelms her senses, and Rose drinks her in, licking wide circles around her already soaking lips.

“Stop teasing, Rose.”

“Mm,” Rose hums against her clit, catching the amazon off guard. Finally. She sucks on her clit, her own cunt throbbing as Artemis grinds against her mouth. Rose rubs her thighs, trying to relieve that itch, but the motion brings Artemis to a halt.

“Ah-ah. I didn’t say you could pleasure yourself.”

Rose swears under her breath, but she doesn’t beg, even when Artemis pulls back.

“You get to come when I say so. Not a moment sooner.” She unties the restraints from the bed, but not from Rose’s wrists. “Now turn over.” After Rose flips over onto her belly, Artemis leans over her, flush against her back, tying her wrists together. “But since you’re so desperate…”

Her heart quickens when she hears Artemis digging through the drawer again. And she watches with flushed cheeks as she pulls out a familiar leather harness and steps into it. “On your knees.” Artemis shifts on the bed, clicking the dildo into place. “Get it wet, won’t you?”

Oh, fuck. This isn’t helping. Well, it is helping Rose get wetter in her shorts, but her mind keeps wandering to another familiar cock, and how much she wants to suck it. Focus. Rose keeps her eyes open as she licks up and down the strap.

“I knew you were hungry.” Artemis gazes down at her with her own hunger in her eyes. Rose could get lost in those green eyes…which are almost the same shade of green as Jason’s. Not again. Rose takes the cock into her throat, relishing in the way Artemis swallows with want. She pushes Rose off hastily. She usually uses her words in scenarios like this one, but apparently Rose has her in a hurry, because her big strong arms maneuver Rose into position. “There,” she manages, grabbing Rose by the hips.

The strap-on slides so easily inside her, filling her in all the right places. “Mm.”

“Shh.” Artemis says, but a moan slips out to match hers.

Rose bites her lip, digging her fingernails into her palms to keep from begging when the amazon slowly pulls out, only to dive back in. She sees stars as she sets a brutal pace, hitting the angle just right. “Art–”

She growls. “I told you nn, not to talk.”

Rose does beg when she pulls out for good this time, rules be damned. Artemis grips her chin, meeting her eyes with furry and hunger. “Ah-ah.” She undoes her bindings. “You have to, mm, earn it.”

Without wasting any time, Rose dives in, adding a finger, then another, circling Artemis’s clit with her thumb. Her own cunt throbs, especially when Artemis starts swearing in Greek. Or is it Arabic? All Rose knows is she wants to hear more. The Amazon’s words dissolve into moans, then groans, and finally she buries her face into Rose’s shoulder as she trembles around her fingers with a breathy fuck.

Following a bead of sweat as it slips down Artemis’s tan shoulders, Rose sucks in a breath as the amazon’s fingers find her swollen clit. “Nng.”

“Mm.” Artemis barely brushes her, making Rose tremble. “How many more times are we going to do this, Rose?”

“Dunno, mm, what you’re talking about.”

Artemis leans over her, another finger circling the edge of her cunt. “Tearing each other apart at night. Ignoring each other during the day.”

Damnit. Rose is willing to say anything at this point for release. “Art–”

“Answer the question, Rose.”

“What do you want?”

“Tell me who has you flushed as red as my hair.” A finger slips inside her, and Rose’s hips buck off the bed. “Who has your heart.” She slips another in, and pumps Rose mercilessly, until she comes with a cry. “I know it isn’t me.”

When Rose comes to, Artemis is already in the shower next door. She grabs her clothes, worming into them in a hurry before the water stops.

—---

“Looking for beer?” Jason jumps out of his skin. Roy’s sitting on the counter on the other side of the fridge, munching on some chips and guac–freshly made guac by the look of it.

Looking back at what’s inside the fridge, Jason mutters. “Looks like you don’t have any.”

Roy flips a coin. Jason catches it by reflex. “Two years sober. Adeline keeps this place clean of the stuff.” Also by reflex, Jason flips over the sobriety coin to check for scratch marks. Not that Two-Face would ever use such a coin.

Closing the fridge, Jason levels with Roy as he folds his arms. “Do you?”

The ginger’s eyes look him over as he also folds his arms. “Do I what?” he says neutrally.

Jason’s not above flirting to get what he wants. Doesn’t matter who he’s flirting with. Hero. Villain. Girl. Guy. He closes in, leaning against the counter with one hand and jamming the other in his pocket. Jason almost sticks his hand in Roy’s back pocket but he thinks better of it–he could totally be misreading the situation here. Better keep his distance in case he gets punched. “C’mon. You gotta have your own stash somewhere,” he whispers, “right? Beer? Your own custom brew?”

Roy doesn’t look angry as he pulls away, just disappointed. “No, man. I don’t do that anymore.”

—-

Jericho’s paintings curves with blank paint when he hears a soft knock at his door. He sets the brush down but leaves Queen’s “Fat Bottom Girls” blaring in the background. Opening the door, he comes face to face with Donna’s bemusement.

“Realy, Jer?”

Shrugging, Jericho lets her in, doing his best to wipe the paint off his hands.

“What’ch’ya working on?”

Looking at the canvas with her, Jericho takes it in for the first time. He turns his body, waiting until she’s looking at him again before he signs. “I’m not really sure.”

Donna sits at his drawing table, clearing her throat. “I brought us some ginger beers. You like those, right?”

Jericho nods, taking one off her hands. He takes a gulp, then sets it aside. “Something wrong?”

She rolls the bottle between her hands as she picks her words. “We haven’t really talked since…”

“Since my father ran me through with a sword.”

Donna coughs. “Yeah.” It’s convenient that Jericho has so much art for her to look at it–she has trouble looking at him. She never saw his body–only took Dick’s word for what happened. As if Dick had ever been a reliable source of information–Donna tries to shake the thought off. That’s not what she’s here for.  This room is more art studio than bedroom. The bed itself is neat and tidy, but it does nothing to draw attention to itself. The walls, however, disappear behind canvas after canvas, and the shelves holding his prolific music collection. The vintage turntable sits beneath them.

It’s only when Jericho switches brushes that Donna remembers herself. “So, you were trapped in his body for five years?”

“His mind, yeah.” His hands move in a flurry, Donna struggles to keep up as he describes Dick and Slade fighting–Rose stabbing him in poetic fashion–jumping from his father’s body to his sister’s.

Donna swallows hard. “That must have been hell.”

Jericho’s hands twitch as he stares at one painting in the corner. It’s splashes of orange, blue, and black, with a single red line spearing through the middle. “Worse than dying,” he signs finally.

“Sucks getting stuck, doesn’t it?” Donna worries her lip, thinking back to that train. How exhausted she always felt, but cold never sleep with the constant chugging along the never-ending rail, and the blare of the train horn. Watching so many people get to disembark, but never her. Not until Tim showed up.

A gentle hand shakes her shoulder. “You okay?” Jericho mouths when he finally has her attention.

“Yeah,” she smiles softly, sadly. “I am now.”

—-

“I’m telling you this is a bad idea.” Barbara Gordon, nonetheless, rolls her wheelchair down through the halls of Arkham Asylum.

“As bad as selling me out?” Jason shoots her a pointed look.

She barely spares him a glance. “I had nothing to do with that.”

“Bullshit.”

“She’s telling the truth. I pinged your location when you lured Shimmer’s goons to your hideout.”

That stops Jason short. He swears under his breath. “Didn’t realize you were tracking me.”

“We track everybody.” Jericho signs, stepping right through the security gate like he lives here. Roy is about to follow when he gets stopped by the guard.

“Sorry, no weapons.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding.” Donna hands over her lasso reluctantly. Roy sets down his bow and quiver. Rose shrugs, handing over her swords with a yawn.

Jason clears his throat. “You guys go on ahead. Gonna take me a moment.”

Donna rolls her eyes. “Don’t tell me you have one in your pants.”

“Wanna stick around and find out?”

Shaking her head, Barbara rolls on. “Whatever. Don’t take too long.”

They find her sprawled across her cot, her jumpsuit wrinkled and her red hair a frizzy mess. Her skin, clear of makeup, looks a little dry and pale.

Rose’s nose twitches. “You sure this is the right cell?”

“Yessirree–that’s Pamela Lillian Isley, as sure as I got mugged last Thursday.”

“You need to move out of Gotham, Gary.” Donna stops next to her, folding her arms. They still don’t talk, and Rose can’t blame her. And honestly? She didn’t mind until Jason showed up. The silence was peaceful before. Now it’s deafening.

Pamela Isley turns another page, and Roy clears his throat. She shifts out of her reclining position, her eyes registering them all for the first time. Her gaze lingers on Donna’s lasso. “Wasn’t me.” And then she goes back to her book.

“Pamela Isley, we don’t have all day.”

She snaps her book shut. “Doctor Pamela Isley. And like I said, it wasn’t me.”

Barbara fans out a handful of snapshots of the crime scene, leveling her with an icy stare. “Alright, Doctor. Explain these.”

Pamela quirks an eyebrow, slowly leaning forward to peruse the grisly crime scene. Corpses with fungi growing out of each pore, and any exposed skin. Decomposed as if they had been sitting out in the woods for months, not hours. “You came all the way down here to talk to a botanist?” She laughs. “Surely Gotham U. has replaced me five times over by now.” Turning away, Pamela picks up her book again. “Go bother one of them.”

Artemis looks ready to knock it right out of her hands. Roy pushes her back. Artemis swats him off. Barbara rubs her forehead like she needs more scotch in her coffee.

And that’s when Jason finally shows up.

“Where’s your helmet?” Jericho signs.

“Oh, that?” Jason shrugs, wearing his old domino mask in its place. “It has a bomb inside, so they made me leave it behind.”

“You have a bomb in your helmet?” Donna stares at him incredulously.

“In case someone tries to take it off.”

Pamela freezes in the middle of turning a page. Her head turns slowly, taking him in for the first time. Eyes widening, she whispers “Kid!?”

 Jason’s head whips around to face her. “Ivy! How’s it going? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Sitting up again, Pamela stares at him. “Maybe I have.” She sucks on her teeth. “Heard you were dead.”

“I got better.” He brushes past Donna to get closer to the bars. “Whatchya readin’ there?”

“Nothing. Just a book I got from the–hey!”

Jason pulls the book back through the bars, opening the front cover. “To my prettiest Daffodil, love Harls. XO.” He turns the book sideways. “Actually, there are a lot of XOs.” Enough to fill up the rest of the page and the next.

Ivy looks ready to strangle him.

He smiles disarmingly. “How’s Harley doing, by the way?”

Barbara grimaces, motioning for him to drop it. Jericho pales.

She snarls. “That supposed to be funny?” For once, Jason has nothing to say. “She’s been gone for months.”

Jason softens, pulling up a chair across from her. “What happened?”

Chewing her lip, Ivy answers, “Don’t know, really. Except that some feds waltzed in that day and waltzed back with her.”

“Feds? Like the FBI?”

Roy stiffens. Jericho exchanges a glance with him.

“No. Something else. Had a weird symbol on their shoulder pads.” Ivy narrows her eyes as she searches her brain. “Kind of looked like an A.”

“A.R.G.U.S.,” Barbara whispers.

Ivy’s head whips to face her. “Argus? What the hell is Argus?”

Jason grins, leaning his elbows on Ivy’s table. “Tell me what’s in these pictures, and I’ll tell you.” Leaning closer, he murmurs. “I’ll even tell you where she is.”

“You don’t kn–” Donna starts to say incredulously, only to have Rose cut her off with a hand on her mouth.

“Uh-uh. “I want coordinates, a date, and time.” Ivy folds her arms. “For all I know you could be feeding me old information.”

“Done,” Jason says without hesitating.

Jericho tugs on Rose’s sleeve. “Can he do that?” he signs.

Rose would kill for her precog to start working again. But something in her gut trusts what Jason’s doing.

Leaning toward Jason, Ivy smiles salaciously. “When are we leaving?” She chuckles at Bab’s glare. “These could be any number of species. To know what they really are, I have to see them in person.”

[tadbitfooled]

The Abduction

This fic is tied to Gwenifar's personal quest. It is if the party fails the defeat Klaudius Sarrick in time and he takes Gwenifar through a dimensional door. The quest is to find Gwenifar's notes to figure out the location of the Loviatar Cult and do a rescue mission. This is what happens while the party is looking for those notes and making their way to the hideout. Word Count: 2,818 words Characters involved: Gwenifar van Hol, Klaudius Sarrick, Gale De.Karios mentioned (but to give an idea of what kind of discussion would happen with Gwenifar having a romantic partner) Point of Piece: To give a better illustration of the characters involved as well as background for Gwenifar's Act 3 personal quest. Warnings: Contains darker content, such as kidnapping, light coercion, discussion of future coercion, light torture, and just general creepy dude obsessed with someone vibes. By clicking read more, you acknowledge to read it and know you can back out of reading it at any time if anything is uncomfortable to you.

               She felt herself coming to, albeit slightly dizzy from the effects of poison which had been used on her. She swore at herself. How could she have been so…Blind? It never should have happened. As her vision started to come back, she slowly realized she was not in a place she recognized. Taking care as she sat up, she made note of the surroundings. It was a small, simple room. It was dark, with no windows and only a wooden door. The furniture was sparse, with a bed, and a chair.

               There was something that drew her eye, though. Above the bed upon which she was lain, was the symbol of Loviatar. So, she had been taken to the Loviatans’ lair, then. She knew the fate of any Ilmatari taken by them. She glanced towards the door, trying to figure out the best way to make an escape. A shame she didn’t have Astarion’s skill at lockpicking.

               But there were other possibilities if she had patience and paid attention to her possible openings. This appeared to be a holding cell of sorts, not where they would execute their rituals. Slowly, she rose to a stand, seeing if there was anything of use. Before she had a chance to take proper stock of her options, the door creaked open.

               She lifted her chin up, blue eyes blazing as the Loviatan entered. It was a woman, not the man they had met and spoke to her with an unsettling tone. The man she assumed had taken her. The woman had some clothing in her hand and in that moment, Gwenifar realized her own armor was gone, leaving just her underclothes.

               “You are to change and meet with Truescar Sarrick,” the woman told her. She wore the typical leather attire of the Loviatan, with a skirt and top, an amulet with Loviatar’s symbol on her neck. Riddled across her pale skin were scars and she wore them with pride.

               “If I refuse?” Gwenifar asked the shorter woman.

               A cruel smile spread across the woman’s lips. “I was hoping you would,” she said. “He said to make sure you do so by any means necessary. So, I could make it harder for you, or you do it of your own free will. The choice is entirely yours.”

               Gwenifar felt a fire building in her at the threat. She lunged at the woman, only to feel woozy from the effects of the poison. The Loviatan easily avoided, striking her on her cheek. Gwenifar let out an angry huff, glaring at her.

               “We can do that again, if you like, you pathetic Ilmat.” She spat the word like a curse as she stared down at Gwenifar. The time for her move wasn’t yet, then. Gwenifar wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth, blue eyes a heated blaze as she rose to a stand.

               “I’ll change,” she said, holding her hands out for the garments.

               “Shame,” The Loviatan said, throwing the clothing to her in distaste. She turned to leave the room, allowing Gwenifar some privacy.

               This may very well be something Gwenifar could utilize. She had been seeking out this group prior to her kidnapping, wanting to put a stop to their work in Baldur’s Gate. Perhaps this was a moment to take advantage of, if she could come up with a feasible plan, then escape, and reunite with the others.

Thinking of the others caused a weight in her chest. An ache in her very being swelling into her throat. No, she wouldn’t think about that right now. Right now, she would focus on how to get out. And the first step was to play docile until she would be able to handle herself.

Gwenifar examined the garb given to her, noting it was black leather material. It had a long skirt, but the top was straps with different buttons and ways to figure out how exactly to put it on. She gave a bit of a huff, unsurprised at the choice. She couldn’t help but roll her eyes, knowing very well her underclothes wouldn’t go beneath such attire.

“Hurry up in there.” The Loviatan was impatient, apparently. Gwenifar stripped down, quickly putting the attire on as quickly as she could. The skirt had cut outs at her hips, and she could feel the air nipping at the exposed skin there and on her torso. Wider straps to support her breasts but two thin straps wrapping around her abdomen, a strap around her collar bone to keep it in place. Running down the center of her torso was a vertical strap to keep it all in place.

“I’m changed,” Gwenifar called gruffly, annoyance clear in her tone. The Loviatan woman entered again, holding something in her hand. There was a cruel smile on her features, one Gwenifar knew not to trust. The woman removed the black silk covering of the object, revealing a black leather choker necklace with a large red ruby in the middle of it. Something felt…Wrong about it. As if there were some sort of magic tying it to something else. It made her stomach churn.

“The Truescar wishes for you to wear this gift from him,” the Loviatan woman explained. “He believes it will suit you nicely.”

“What is it?” Gwenifar said, staring at it in apprehension.

“Merely a trinket to show his interest,” the Loviatan explained. “He will be sorely disappointed if you do not wear it.” There it was. The underlying threat hung in her words. It would appear there was no choice to be had in the matter. The Loviatan saw the way her squared shoulders lowered, taking the sign of defeat with glee as she placed the piece of jewelry on her. The zing of magic gave a tingle on the back of her neck. A locking spell. She was collared like a dog.

“Follow me.” Despite her desire to spite her, Gwenifar knew better. Besides, this could give her a chance to take in where she was to figure out how she could escape. She watched as the shorter woman left the room and held the door for her. With a deep breath, Gwenifar crossed the threshold into the corridor, her mind taking in every detail to come up with a plan.

The halls were long, narrow, with little light from windows. It would prove to be difficult to navigate, given how they would twist and turn. But if her notes were correct, she would be somewhere in the lower city near the waterfront. She had been so close to figuring it out to contact the Flaming Fist before she’d been taken. She just wasn’t sure precisely where on the waterfront. There was a salty mildew smell, so that did confirm it.

Finally, they stopped walking at a large, ornate wooden door. The Truescar’s quarters, judging by the other signs about them of this being a residential wing of the complex. The Loviatan knocked on the door, the sound echoing against the cold stone around them.

“Enter,” the deep, male voice said from within. The same voice as the man from before she was so rudely taken. The Loviatan opened the door, revealing the dark room, lit with candles and a large door to what appeared to be a balcony. Perhaps that could be her way out. Everything else in the room was dark but lavish, with black silk curtains darkening the windows, and some paintings of true Loviatan flavor upon the walls. There were seating areas with chairs and couches and then another door; perhaps to the bed chamber. Something she did not want to think about.

In the middle of the room was a large table, set with food and prepared for dinner. Gwenifar had to fight the urge to roll her eyes at the set up. It was terribly cliché, wasn’t it? And there was her host, standing beside the table in a black leather robe. It had silver garnishes on it, as well as fastenings to keep the various straps in place. So much work to put on Loviatan attire, it was almost laughable. The black leather made his pale and gaunt skin even more so in the dimly lit room. He made his way to them, his cold gray eyes scanning over her and her attire. Gwenifar couldn’t help the deepening glower on her face at that. Her eyes flitted to his hands, seeing a black metal ring with a red ruby on it, a similar but smaller cut to the one on the neckpiece she now wore.

“Leave us.” This was the first time Gwenifar thought two Loviatans was better than one. She looked over her shoulder as the woman who escorted her gave a bow before leaving, the door shutting and sounded like locking behind her. No one in and no one out until he said so, it seemed. She turned back to look at her captor, raising her chin a bit higher in defiance as she glared at him. This only seemed to amuse him as he walked up to her, stopping far too close to be proper.

“Sister Gwenifar,” he greeted. He made a motion to the table. “Shall we?”

“You ask me to dine with a viper,” Gwenifar told him curtly. “Who knows what toxins await for me.”

“You’re expecting me to just kill you now? After all of this?” He asked her, sounding offended.

“Hardly,” she threw back. “I’m surprised I didn’t awaken tied to some contraption for you to torture.”

“As lovely of a thought that is, I have other plans for you.” He moved beside her, placing a hand on the small of her back to forcefully guide her to the table. She spun on her heel quickly, slapping the arm away from her and giving him a contemptuous look.

“Don’t. Touch me.” There was a heated warning in her voice. She may not have her weapons or her armor, she may have the adverse effects of the potion still, but she was not going to be a lamb lead to slaughter.

“And who can touch you? Your wizard?” That caused her breath to hitch in her throat. Klaudius moved behind her, noting the change in her demeanor. “Oh, yes. I am quite aware of your adventures, your friends, and your love. That comes with having the correct allies.” He stopped behind her, leaning in where she swore she felt his breath on her neck. “Now, shall we try again? Take your seat.” There was a quiet threat laced in the order.

Gwenifar took a breath, squaring her shoulders and walking to the chair. Klaudius walked beside her, pulling out the chair and offering his hand to assist her in sitting down. She refused it, sitting down on her own. She kept her head forward, but her eyes briefly glanced to the perceived balcony door. When could she make her move?

Gwenifar could feel him hovering behind her. His hands resting on the back of the chair as he adjusted it a bit longer than necessary. Gwenifar remained on the edge of the chair to create distance. She eyed the cutlery before her, thinking carefully and waiting for a window.

“You see, that’s something I admired about you,” he began. “That fire. Your brothers and sisters were content with tending the wound after it was inflicted…But you…” Gwenifar felt a hand in her hair and she jerked her head away, using the motion to swipe the knife and tucked it beneath the table in her hand. His hand remained where it had been before pulling it back. “You were more invested in stopping the wound before it was struck. You have a passion about you, waiting to be unleashed in a way suitable for it.”

“My work is my passion,” Gwenifar argued, not keen on what he was suggesting.

“It sates you, but it’s not enough,” he countered, moving to seat himself on the opposite side of the table. “And thus, our game of cat and mouse began. You would try to figure out my next move, my next attempt to spread Loviatar’s glory, and attempt to stop it. Sometimes you would win, sometimes I would…” He gave a bit of a chuckle, picking up his glass of wine. “And I enjoy someone who stands on equal footing with me.”

“Quite conceited of you to think you stand equal with me.”

“What bravado,” he chuckled, picking up his cutlery and starting to cut into his meat. “But you don’t always have that confidence, do you?” He leaned back in his chair, watching her for her reaction. She hoped to not reveal anything. “Because you are just a simple cleric in service of Ilmater, are you not? With so little personal experience, just throwing yourself into your work and study to compensate for that. Your wizard, though…He’s lain with a goddess, from what I’ve heard. Besides that, I’ve heard of his acclaim and what his standing was in Waterdeep. If you succeed in your endeavor and everything ends well, what makes you think you could hold a candle to that?”

He was playing right into insecurities she had buried away. He had studied her, and apparently taken the time to study anyone close to her. Even in times like these. Save for taking deeper breaths and a heat to her cheeks as she simmered, she did her best to keep her body language in check. She narrowed her eyes at him, keeping her chin up and not letting him know the words did strike like a knife.

“It’s very rude to discuss my personal relationships when first meeting.” It was a deflection, and she knew he knew it. But it only seemed to amuse him.

“You’re right, where are my manners,” he said. “But where are yours? You haven’t touched your food. It’s very rude for a guest to refuse to eat when food is offered to them. Eat.”

“I have no reason to trust it.” Plainly spoken and not wanting to play these games. There was a sudden sensation around her neck, a tingling feeling turning into a painful feeling of a thousand little knives. She gripped the hidden knife, keeping herself from doubling over in pain. She gritted her teeth, blue eyes glaring at him. She would not give him the satisfaction. And that explained the ‘gift’ he would have been disappointed in her not wearing. He rose to a stand, finger tracing the ring she had noticed before.

“I do enjoy that will of yours,” he said, stalking closer. “And I cannot wait to break it. Tear it apart, bit by bit by bit until you submit entirely to my wants and commands.” He stopped beside her, reaching under her chin to tilt her face up to look at him. His hands were cold, devoid of any warmth like his eyes. Merely cruel excitement lay within them. “I will break you down and rebuild you how I want you to be, Sister Gwenifar. Allow you to reach your true potential underneath my Maiden of Pain.”

“If you’re so fond of pain, how about this!” Gwenifar took her opportunity, pulling out the hidden knife and aiming for an artery in his thigh. Missing the artery due to the angle, the knife still went in and caused him to start in surprise. Gwenifar took her chance, jumping up from the chair and running towards the balcony door. The tightening around her neck took her by surprise, as well as the yank pulling her back towards him. She stumbled back, realizing there was a magical leash tied between the ring and the choker. His hands were on her shoulders, straightening her up but having a death grip to keep her near him.

“That was absolutely delicious.” His tone was darkly excited and Gwenifar struggled against his grip. “But don’t think you’re too clever and can get away that easily.” The sound of someone at the door drew his attention. “This better be good,” he called, giving permission for them to enter. A Loviatan entered, giving a bit of a bowing head.

“There are intruders, Truescar Sarrick,” he told him. “The Ilmat’s allies.” The frustration on his face gave way to a darkly pleased smirk.

“So, they found us,” he said, turning back to look at Gwenifar, holding onto the magical leash. “What do you say we go say hello? And I’ll have them killed right in front of you? Especially your wizard. That’ll be fun to see your reaction, won’t it?” Her eyes widened, fear flowing through her veins at the thought. He had something up his sleeve to be so confident about it. But the fear gave way to anger as she glared at him.

“You won’t succeed,” she snarled, trying to pull away from the hold on the leash.

“Oh, we’ll just have to find out, won’t we?”

[grape-soda-dreams]

The Answer Fights Kaizo edition

So for The Answer DLC i think it'd be really really funny if they just cranked the difficulty up tenfold. Here's my 2am ideas for how to do that. Bit of a longer post but here's my ideas for how to turbo each character into a winnable but not enjoyable fight. Everyone gets their tier 2 characteristics and access to all of their theurgies but only once per fight each. They'd also have greatly improved HP and SP pools to make these fights last a while while stealing some bonuses from pieces of equipment. Arena Fight 1: Akihiko + Ken. Akihiko gets: Strike Amp/Elec Amp/Shock Boost/Akasha Arts/Maziodyne/Heat riser/Matarunda/God's hand. He gets his Buff Amp characteristic and starts out with an auto heat riser like the evil gloves. He gets to use both theurgies. First theurgy is electric spike, while the next is electric onslaught near the end of the fight. Ken gets: Mediarma/Kougaon/Light Amp/Vile Assault/Ziodyne/Tetrakarn/Makarakarn/Divine Grace. Overall this is meant to be the easiest of the fights. Ken is support packing a mean Kougaon and generally is meant to follow up akihiko. Sets up barriers if possible. Arena Fight 2: Junpei + Korumaru. Junpei Gets: Crit Amp/Apt Pupil/Vorpal Blade/God's Hand/Inferno/Marakukaja/High Counter/Regenerate 3

Korumaru gets: Debilitate/Dark Amp/Poison Boost/Ailment boost/Fire Amp/Eigaon/Virus breath/Maragidyne. The man is here to crit you to death and use blaze of life to heal once per fight. The dog is here to spam debilitate and poison at you. Starts off the fight with a power howling into vorpal blade.

Mitusuru + Yukari Mitsuru shows up with: Concentrate/Ailment Boost/Freeze boost/ Mabufudyne/Megidolaon/Nuero Slash/Marin Karin/Rakunda Yukari appears with: Multi-Target Boost/Wind Amp/Pierce Amp/Myriad arrows/Megidolaon/Magarudyne/Mediarahan/Amrita Shower The idea is that Mitsuru is fishing for status conditions on your party to capitalize on the +15% crit rate her secondary characteristic provides for the team. Yukari capitalizes off of this via myriad arrows each having a chance to crit. If Mitsuru can't do that for some reason she then starts to just hit you with concentrated megidoloan spam or the blizzard's edge theurgy. Yukari does a similar thing, but with a multi target boosted megidolaon every turn rather than charged ones.

[not-krys]

1. Introduction (Houki, Abby, Clara)

Totally dropped the ball on August's prompt (in that I completely forgot to do it in favor of doing some art stuff instead), but I did some of the prompt that was meant for August today.

These ideas stem from taking the beginnings of routes and putting my OCs in those meeting scenarios. As such, I guess technically spoilers for route beginnings? I guess? Houki gets IkeSen's prologue with rescuing Nobunaga, plus snippets from her original game's lore; Abby gets the beginning of Vincent's route, and Clara gets the wonderful beginning of Nokto's route.

Other warnings are that this is raw writings, no editing, and cuts off in places, maybe a lil rambl-y in others. Nokto is also a lil shit, but what else is new?

----------

Houki

Houki tried to close her eyes, trying to think this was all just a dream. That she was going to wake up in her room on Vale Island and that Jasper was going to scold her for sleeping in when there were other suitors and activities she needed to participate in, like Cordelia's tea party, or to watch the boat race that was going to happen later today.

Instead, all she could feel was heat and all she could smell was burning wood and smoke.

Had her room caught on fire? It wouldn't surprise her, really, since that incident with the poisoned letter.

But, no, this was certainly not her room. No plush curtains or glass windows in sight. Just burning pillars and the sound of creaking wood, straining under great pressure.

She also wasn't alone in the blazing room.

A man in black armor was laying on the floor, unconscious. In most matters, he seemed a handsome man, black hair to match his armor, a tall frame. A general, perhaps? His face was scowling in his 'rest'. Perhaps he was left to die in the blazing building. Not a comforting thought. Who was this man that would be left to die in such a place?

Going against her better judgment, Houki bent down to shake his shoulders, the crackle of the fire seeming to lick her cheeks.

Fortunately, her trapped companion seemed a light sleeper, as his eyes snapped open immediately, staring at her with bright carnelian eyes, red as the flames surrounding them.

"Who…?" his deep voice started before a pillar fell behind them with a loud crash.

"There's no time!" Houki said, grabbing hold of his hand, "we need to leave!"

The man didn't need to be told twice, standing up with the grace of a hawk taking flight. Houki covered her nose with her sleeve, trying her best to navigate through the blaze, coughing from the smoke. Her eyes were drying and hurting, as were her lungs. It didn't help that she was still recovering from the poisoned letter incident, making her breathing hurt much worse.

-----------

Abby

Abby sat on the floor, her back against the wooden door, hugging her knees to her chest. She wiped her eyes and saw the familiar brown coat, much too long and big in the shoulders for her, but the comforting scent of sunshine and fresh laundry eased her racing heart.

She was living in a mansion filled with vampires, as Arthur had made so plain to her. Rattled her with it, even. To make matters worse, when she tried to escape, she ran into two unscrupulous gentlemen. If Vincent hadn't happened by when he did…

She shuddered at the thought. She pulled his jacket closer, taking in more of his scent. The bruise on her wrist throbbed.

'She is a very special guest of this mansion,' she remembered him saying, his voice stern and vaguely threatening 'Touch her again and face the consequences.'

Vincent had been so protective of her, even if they had just met barely hours prior. She felt bad when she had swatted his hand away in her fright. She tried to apologize, but Vincent just smiled gently.

"Ah, it's my fault for trying to touch you without your permission, especially after going through something so scary."

He tried his best to comfort her, telling her that she can talk to Sebastian if she felt more comfortable, since he was still human like her. And, like a spell spoken, Sebastian did appear, taking her off Vincent's hands, helping her to her room. In her stupor, she had forgotten she was still wearing his jacket he had so gently and carefully placed on her shivering shoulders. She promised herself that she would return it in the morning, but would also ask Sebastian how to launder it first, since she was no doubt wrinkling it and staining it with her tears. She didn't want to cause him, or anyone else, any trouble. Especially if everyone else surrounding her was a vampire. Would they eat her if she did something out of turn? Arthur seemed to delight in the idea, especially when she saw the red touches on his starched and white collar.

She pulled the jacket closer, trying her best to hold back a sob. She didn't want to leave, lest she get a repeat of running into Arthur again, or anyone else for that matter.

The scent of Vincent's jacket wafted to her nose again.

—-----------

Clara

Clara felt like she was going to be sick. Her head pounded something fierce and she was surrounded by silken sheets and scent she normally would have associated with the unsavory parts of town.

Her eyes shot open, the morning light burning her eyes. She closed them again, a pained groan escaping her lips.

"Good morning, my dear." A voice said beside her, soft in delivery but the tone was full of amused mischief.

Her eyes shot open again, taking in the sight of ruby red eyes and a hand with painted black nails reaching for her forehead.

She shot up in the bed, immediately regretting that choice and held her head, her dark hair cascading over her face and shoulders.

"Well, that wasn't very smart of you, now was it?"

Clara gritted her teeth, still holding her head.

"Where… where am I?"

"My bedroom," that voice cooed, "you were so insistent last night, not letting me have a choice. It was quite bold of you, telling a prince you wanted to sleep with him."

"I would never-" her head throbbed, stealing her of her voice, "I wouldn't-"

"And yet, here we are, Belle."

Belle, right… She agreed to that yesterday. She had wanted to get to know the princes. And she had taken Nokto's word that he had sincerely wanted to help her.

This was not the direction she had thought, or hoped, the previous night would take.

She looked down at herself, still thankfully dressed in the fancy underclothes of the dress she had been given to go to that ball with that sleazeball of a prince, but the poofy dress was not on her person, instead laying in a precarious position on the floor. She wished she had the strength to glare at the prince no doubt grinning at her on the bed, but her head barely allowed her the pleasure of concentrating. The room even smelled like stale rose wine, making her stomach turn.

"Ah yes, you should know that you had wine spilled on your dress last night," she could hear the smirk in Nokto's voice, "thus why it's on the floor over there."

"What, I didn't just throw my clothes at you in my lust filled state that you seem to imply I was in?"

"You did try. I just dodged."

[darkx-the-dragon-kn1ght]

Chapter 17- Part 8

So, first thing’s first- Paralysis!

And from here, well- it’s a low-level Taillow, I don’t even think I need to lower its health? Just a Poké Ball should be fine?

And that’s that, welcome to Ace the Taillow! And now for the other half of these Rhodochrine encounters…

Stantler! Let’s see how this one goes.

Still gonna paralyze it, that’s just objectively good capturing strategy.

And from here, I think Acid will be sufficient enough to lower its HP at a safe rate.

And now, just to be safe, let’s use that Great Ball we just picked up, yeah?

If you didn’t know, I named her after the love interest deer girl from Bambi. Seemed appropriate enough.

So those are about all the encounters we can get right now, so let’s address that Egg.

Taking a closer look at the Egg like this…mainly yellow with significant brown portions…immediately, my mind goes to Drowzee. But I guess it’s possible for it to be Girafarig, though I feel like Girafarig would have some pink on it too due to its triangle scales. So um- Drowzee is my main guess, with Girafarig as a secondary guess?

But we won’t know until it hatches, so let’s just do some rearranging of the party-

There! With Magma Armor, this Egg should hatch in no time!

(Many steps later…)

The second guess it is! Look at this…not-so little guy!

Pardon me, the little guy is a little girl, in fact-

Anyways, if you’re curious about the name, it’s a reference to Girafarig’s inspiration (both generally and in terms of etymology)- the kirin, which is not only a mythological creature, but also the Japanese word for ‘giraffe’!

So yeah, a Psychic-type that also has immunities and extra resistances thanks to its specific dual-typing! I like it!

Anyways, with that, it’s time to do some team-building. And with the information I have about the Fields of interest as well as the general characteristics of Poison-types…I think I know who I’m bringing to this fight.

Riptide and Glare are pretty self-explanatory- Riptide because I refuse to take the starter out of the party, and Glare for probably Poison immunity. Crater and Kirin are for the type advantages (and in Kirin’s case, a certain move she hatched with that could be useful for…reasons), Breeze for whenever I want to blow the Corrosive Mist away, and Blaze to take advantage of the Corrosive Mist to power up her Fire-type moves in case Crater or Kirin aren’t cutting it.

Obviously, some level-grinding is in order, but that’s what the Grand Hall battle corner is for, yeah?

(Then I had to go to sleep…although, the pull for the battle corner that day sucked, so I didn’t mind waiting another day to see if better Trainers would show up.)

Wow, my luck with Grand Hall sure has been sucky, huh? Yesterday there was just one (1) Trainer with Pokémon in the early 20s and who only gave less than 60 Pokémon Dollars, and today? One (1) Trainer with Pokémon in the early 20s who only gave ~100 Pokémon Dollars. Would it kill this game to at least give me more than one Trainer to battle against?? 

I know what you might be thinking- “Oh X, just use the extra Exp. Candies (S) that you have to level your Pokémon!” And I could do that, yes- but I’m not just grinding for exp. points, I’m grinding for money too! Because I want to be able to afford items! What the heck is this, then??

Well, despite how unpleasant it was- seriously, why do I keep running into this guy with a Mawile?- I was able to get the team to a good level.

Lv. 29 seemed like a good stopping point, I doubt Corey will have any Pokémon above Lv. 30 at least. Plus, still no idea when we’re gonna get to the actual third Gym, which has a level cap of Lv. 35, so the lower I can keep my party’s levels while still being able to do this specific boss fight, the better. Besides- if Riptide levels up one more time during the battle, it’d make for a very cinematic evolution moment.

You might have also noticed how everyone now has an item. Breeze and Blaze have Elemental Seeds because they’re most likely to come out on Corrosive Mist, so that’ll give them a power-up (in spite of poisoning them too). Riptide and Kirin have Pecha Berries (I only had two to begin with) to deal with any poisoning of their own, and Crater has an Oran Berry for HP reasons- I would have liked to give her a Sitrus Berry instead, but I didn’t have one. Oh, and Glare’s item didn’t change, still Protective Pads.

Now, I think we’ve prepared rather thoroughly- in the end, it all comes down to what actually happens during the battle. So no more delays, let’s do it.

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[selfdiagnosedeyemotif]

Chapter Four (Aestia):

Opens in The Far Harbour, which is notably not a town (there's a tavern so that you can choose to do this chapter when you want but you can encounter enemies and shit)

Aestia comments a lot about missing Lylah but soldiers onward

Not much to do beforehand, so travel through the route straight to the entrance of…

The Fourth Dungeon: The Masterless Wood

Largest dungeon in at least Aestia's story, maybe the game (I dunno I'm not actually making the damn thing)

I have genuinely no idea what its gonna look like but I want it to have a crazy wacky puzzle

Probably gonna include a six-springs-two-poison type thing

Not sure on the exact details but it's gonna be wacky

Enemies: Howlers and Revenants and Remnants oh my

I WISH THIS WAS LONGER THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A COOL DUNGEON BUT I DONT HAVE IDEAS

AAAAAAAAA

Reaching the end of the dungeon, Aestia finds a clearing with a small cottage worked into the trees

In front of it is a small campfire, with Sir Eldroy and an incredibly old woman speaking to each other

Sir Eldroy is claiming to have doubts with his path, is clearly glancing back at the house in the trees again and again

Aestia bursts in to stop them, Eldroy turns immediately, kicks Aestia in the chest, and summons a circle of flame around them, locking The Great Seer out

The Great Seer screams at him, calling him a liar, as we cut into…

The Fourth Boss: Sir Eldroy Herres

Summons in three lackeys at the start of the fight: more Greater Embers (they don’t block weaknesses they’re just nuisances enough to need to be dealt with

Eldroy starts with a shield that makes him immune to stat debuffs, will disappear after the first break

Also has a Sacred Slash attack

Can hit a lot harder with fire attacks, has some AOE bullshit

Can also inflict Silence and Terror

Maybe has an attack that specifically only work against Silenced/Terrified targets (think of Father’s insta-kill attack that only works if the target has that blood effect or Kaldena’s insta-kill that only works on Blinded targets)

Boost mode effect: kills all Embers like the Tormented Blaze fight, displays the message “Sir Eldroy is becoming filled with light”

Boost mode attack: Ending Strike (one sword strike, lowers elem. def., one fire attack, single target, inflicts Terror on whole party with no save against it)

After beating him up enough, cuts out of the fight into another cutscene

“ENOUGH, heretic. You have walked too far in defiance of the word of the Pontifex, and you will pay the price. Mother Orsa, Father Finis, grant me now the power to strike down Aestia Trititaka, APOSTATE OF THE SACRED FLAME!”

Reaches and grabs a pendant like the archbishop, smashes in on the ground

Circle of flames shrinks to barely fit the two, Sir Eldroy becomes wreathed in flame

Cuts back into a battle sequence, fighting against…

The Second Phase: Eldroy, Ablaze

Before the battle officially starts there’s a small dialogue segment of Aestia being absolutely FLOORED by this

Eldroy looks INSANE, he’s covered in green fire, eyes glowing, broadsword looking as though it might melt any second, standing stock-straight

Summons two more lackeys at the start of this phase: Perfected Embers

These are the first actually dangerous forms of Ember, these guys can do real damage

Eldroy has ten shields and regenerates two each turn

No more immunity to debuffs only PAIN

A small HP drain is in effect as well (there is FIRE)

Has one attack themed after Orsa and one after Finis, those are the ones that get animated sprites

After the first break has only eight shields, then six (will sit at that for the rest of the battle if you keep breaking them)

Boost mode message: “Eldroy is grasping at divinity!”

Boost mode attack: Smite of the Ending (same as Ending Strike but also inflicts Silence)

After the fight, Eldroy is about to start on a monologue when he stops, as if looking at something directly in front of him (some of these mannerisms will NOT work with octopath graphics but I care not)

“Pontifex… I… the mission can still go on without issue. I have not failed you. Fabian has likely completed his objective yet. I have… no… Pontifex! Your Holiness! Please! Have mercy! HAVE MERCY!”

Eldroy is seemingly sucked away by fire (not like the archbishop, he had a burnt corpse), completely gone

Aestia enters one of those black-screen fugue states and promptly passes out from shock and exhaustion

Wakes up in bed with The Great Seer

Loredrop time!!!!

General gist: The Great Seer insists upon Aestia first-naming her (her name is Aschei, thanks for asking), drops a ton of shit about Orsa and Finis

The pontifex came to ask a question of Aschei a while back

Her main question: why would they create a world if that world included death and suffering?

Aschei was unable to answer and then-Sister Victoria Inaméa stormed off

Aestia and Aschei pool their knowledge and conclude that the Pontifex is somehow trying to harness the power of The Maker Gods to eliminate death and/or suffering from the world

The purpose of palimpsests remains mysterious

Aestia explains the situation with the mysterious figure, who Sir Eldroy called Fabian

Aschei is mortified, goes to check her library, and finds a book missing from it

It turns out that Aestia has been out for TWO DAYS

She asks why Aschei didn’t wake her sooner, Aschei says it was to recover her strength

“I can see it: you are a great woman. Yours is a soul that shines with the light of many stars, and I would not let you go unless I thought you would be able to walk away from the pontifex safely. But you are ready. Go.”

“Like the stars… Lylah said the same thing…”

“Lylah?” [pause] “Hmm, I see. She is very important to you, yes?”

“I think of her every day.”

Aschei directs Aestia to The Spire of Beginnings, in the Peaklands, where the land of [continent name not found] was first touched by Orsa and Finis

“Go, my child, and take great care to stay safe. If not for this old woman, do it for that Lylah of yours. I’m sure she would like it.”