#can't fight off TWO determined tieflings

[avocado-writing]

hi!! ive.. gone and read so much of ur work in one sitting. its all so much to take in, IN A GOOD WAY, and i absolutely adore every single word

would u be so kind.. to bless my angst durge needs..

Durge Resist tav, was strong for all until the brain was finally defeated but now, with what she believed her only purpose/chance at redemption (brain), they can't help but feel utterly empty and,, unredeemed. They mourn all those they have robbed from this world, nameless, and countless numbers of people they robbed of the life that they were now being given the chance at living. Surely they don't deserve it(Is what they think..)

They are pathetically in love, and if they deserve anything, its to tell their special one just how much they are adored before casting themselves out of society (or taking their own life, if ur comfortable writing such things-)

Rolan, Dammon, Zevlor, maybe even Rugan if u write for that loser LMAO. just.. whoever u write for, its the tieflings i adore most ahegege

if this didnt make sense IM SORRY i havent slept in so long and sleep is not choosing me. i just crave angst, perhaps with a happy ending if u would indulge me so..!! thank u if u read this, so much!!

hi, I don't write fics about suicide, but here's the tiefling bachelors with a durge who's planning to disappear after the absolute is gone and giving them one final confession:

Dammon

senses something is wrong when you take him aside for a heart-to-heart.

it isn't that you avoid these sorts of moments per se, he just knows you only affirm your affections when something big is going to happen (you did it before you went off to fight the elder brain)

he holds your hand tightly, gets you to look him in the eye.

"I love you, no matter what, and I never want to be without you. tell me you'll be there when I wake up tomorrow. in our bed. swear it to me."

you can see the utter adoration he looks at you with, and you think: maybe you aren't so bad if a man like this can truly love you.

the next morning Dammon wakes up. you're not in bed next to him. he panics, getting to his feet - only to find you in the kitchen making breakfast.

he's never been so relieved. walks up behind you and wraps you in his arms. he loves you so dearly, and will keep on loving you until you believe yourself worthy of it.

Rolan

Rolan doesn't quite understand why you're having this great outburst, but chalks it down to emotions running high after the final battle.

says goodnight, kisses you, and heads off to his tower - he has a lot of admin to do after all.

the next morning he comes to meet you at the elfsong, only to be met with the realisation that you aren't there. he curses himself for not understanding why you were so melancholic last night.

he tracks you down. uses all of his resources to scry on you, grease palms with the money the tower has. he's up all night for weeks. Cal and Lia worry about him but he is determined.

and find you he does. manages to locate where you're hiding out, a little hamlet in the middle of nowhere. you burst into tears when you see him, and he just pulls you into his arms.

"come home with me."

you do, moving into his tower. and you never leave him again.

Zevlor

immediately knows something is wrong. takes you to a quiet place where the two of you can be alone and talk things out.

discusses how he feels like being a failure for breaking his oath -- but you always saw past that. saw the goodness in his soul. he wishes you would treat yourself with that kindness.

you begin to cry, softly at first, and then with sobs which wrack your whole body. he holds you ever so tightly.

"I love you. you are not who you were. you have strived to be better every day, fought against your own family, and always chosen a righteous path. you deserve to be happy. I'd want to make you happy, if you'd let me."

eventually your tears run dry and you look up into his face. his eyes are so sincere. he means every word.

when you kiss him, it's a promise: that you're with him for good. that whatever comes next, it will be faced together.

[remidyal]

Bad Ideas of the Day Part 8 - The Ocho

Part 8 of the series of my occasional roundup of my bad ideas of the day from the D20 Fanfic Discord, as always the link back to the prior one is available here and as always anyone who wants to do something with these ideas is moreeeee than welcome to do so, though I'd love to hear about it!

This list contains spoilers for FHJY through current as of writing (episode 10) as many of the ideas on this edition involve events from this season; I've put it below the read more for that reason. Some of the ideas mark where spoilers are contained up through.

Bad Idea of the Day, Trust Issues Edition, FHJY spoilers through episode four: Fabian, wanting to cash out but not wanting to give Chungledown Bim 18 million gold pieces, tries to find a convincing nemesis who the bank will believe and who will use the money they get in a way that won't bother him, such as to further shitting in his mouth. He finds someone who both has a history that often leads to nemesis-dom and is willing to commit major financial crimes for money: His ex-girlfriend, Aelwyn Abernant. Now, they just need to stage a public enough fight to get her on the list before he cashes out…

Bad idea of the day, Total Party Kill edition: The bad kids and Aelwyn cut a little TOO loose during the fight at Ostentatia's, and instead of nobody getting THAT hurt during the timestop they actually collapse the house on top of all the hudol kids inside, landing all of them in a world of trouble BEFORE they can meet up with Biz…

Bad idea of the day, 'fake' dating edition: Kristen decides that she can maybe make her parents okay with her being a lesbian if she starts off with the worst possible partner for her parents and then backs down to just a normal girl like Tracker. So she asks her friendly local tiefling to come with her to a family dinner as her girlfriend…

Bad idea of the day, the beauty of nature edition: On a trip to the far haven woods to spy on the ratgrinders, Adaine is alarmed to discover that as she grows up the Oracle becomes imbibed with full disney princess powers, and it is very difficult to go about one's business sneakily when all the trees and wildlife are constantly singing to her as she goes

Bad Idea of the Day, spoilers through JY episode 5 edition: In the middle of a fight of gods at the mall, one man whose soul truly represents the very worst the mall has to offer appears, immune to the rage from the stars, wielding a comically large sword and looking like a reject from the Armour Zombie and Lich catalogue: One Cody Walsh.

Bad idea of the day part two, I can't believe I forgot about this detail from the Seven edition: The Ministry of Adventure, in a timeline where their shit isn't pushed in by the Seven, send one of their honeytrap agents to try to ensnare one of the brightest up and coming adventurers in all of Solace. Then, when that one fails, they send another, and another. How is eligible bachelor detective Riz Gukgak seeing through all of their schemes, they wonder?

Bad idea of the day, reclassification edition, JY spoilers through six: In a determination to make certain Kristen can stay in school even without a god, the Bad Kids look for another class to fit Kristen into. Can she try out for Rogue or Fighter or anything else without stabbing herself with her -3 dex?

Bad idea of the day, backup escape routes edition, spoilers through episode 5 of Junior Year: Instead of being bailed out by Connor Counterspell, the Bad Kids are forced to take a different exit from the Mall of the Synod of Spyre through the only obvious portal: The one into the strudel dimension in Oodles of Strudels. There, they find themselves in not just a strudel dimension, but in fact an entire plane of pastry, including a giant octopus-esque monster who is very angry with Adaine in particular as the strudel she has been chopping has been one of its tendrils. Can they survive long enough for Adaine to hit level 13 and get Plane Shift, or will they fall to the forces of the Pop-Tart King?

Bad idea of the day, impractical bard forms edition: Encouraged towards something that is 'respectable' and in which her 'lack of wizardly talent' won't be as much of an impediment, Adaine ends up a bard of visual arts. Specifically, oil paintings. Can she be a useful party member with a form of bardic work in which even a simple spell takes an hour, just because it's the sort of thing that's okay in Fallinel's high society?

Bad idea of the day, soulmates edition: Every pirate gets a birthmark that appears within the first few years of their life indicating the highest rank they'll ever hold on a crew. Bill Seacaster's heart is crushed when his darling boy Fabian's birthmark appears and indicates that he'll never be higher than a First Mate.

Bad idea of the day, courtesy of tumblr edition: Adaine, party wizard, has a sister with crazy drug dealing stories and a dad with crazy drug dealing stories and a need for cash. Who could have seen, when she started drug dealing at parties, that it would end in crazy stories and pain?

Bad idea of the day, Fantasy High edition, spoilers through episode 7 JY: The bad kids do, in fact, do drugs at the party, and there's a fight to the death with Grix during the assembly instead of happening later. Can they rally the other students to not be cowards for once?

Bad idea of the day, stop spreading the news edition: Pete and Maddy lead a strike force against the evil wizard who is running the New York Times and using it to spread all sorts of hate and propaganda, especially on a personal level to them the transphobia.

Bad idea of the day, Aguefort didn't know what he was doing REALLY edition: After the murder-suicide in the cafeteria, left with nobody but the corpses of three staff members and some other confused freshmen, Gorgug Thistlespring and Kristen Applebees are brought back from the dead… Shame their souls went into the wrong bodies, isn't it?

Bad idea of the day, wizard tomes editions: Less a plot idea and more just a general notion, we need more cursed items, and in particular here I'm thinking cursed spellbooks. Give Adaine a book that seers knowledge out of her brain, or reverses portent rolls to be the opposite of what she thinks she's doing, maybe (Though actually on that latter note - it would be EXTREMELY on the nose, should Adaine ever become a follower of Cassandra, if her portents stopped working as she became only able to see the worst that was to come but not prevent it.)

Bad idea of the day, keep your friends close and your frenemies closer edition: In the time in between The Unsleeping City 1 and 2, an insurance investigator comes knocking about a very suspicious house fire. Sofia thinks she'll be fine… until she realizes that the investigator is also going to ask Ricky, as the heroic firefighter who first responded to the scene. Can she train Ricky into convincingly lying, or will she be visiting that famous New York prison of Riker's Island?

Bad idea of the day, class swap secret santa edition: Following a decree from Arthur Aguefort that students are too reluctant to try new things and they should dabble more, every student at the Adventuring Academy is required to try out a class they have not previously attended for two weeks that the rest of their party secretly votes on without consulting each other. What will each Bad Kid be stuck doing, and can everyone else figure out a class they're certain Fig has never snuck into?

Bad idea of the day, stunning strike edition: Realizing that they're being exploited by a system that risks their lives and pays them only with grades, not money, for saving the world, the students of Aguefort go on strike. Can they remain united in the face of the Ministry of Adventure and their union-busting assassination squads?

Bad idea of the day, dirty laundry edition, spoilers through jy 10: Taking Adaine's offer to come over and do her laundry while under the invisibility spell so she can avoid people other than Adaine caring for her, Aelwyn unfortunately triggers an investigation from Fig, Kristen, and Sandra Lynn into why their washing machine is suddenly haunted and running on its own. Can she remain unnoticed without causing a problem, or will Kristen banishing her clothing to the Elemental Plane of Detergent?

Bad idea of the day, with grating power comes grating responsibility edition: Adaine never manages to become much of a wizard, but instead manages to tap into something even more core to her personality than the anxiety: Being a petty insulting brat, and finding herself a Lore Bard on the strength of study + cutting words combined. How does her family handle it when the bickering at the table becomes much more deadly?

[redroomroaving]

Don't burn alone in the dark (Rolan x Geraldus, G, what-if one shot)

The wizard is hurting, drinking himself useless as he waits at Last Light Inn, refusing to let anyone get close to his pain. Geraldus, trying to hold on to hope in the dark, can't help but see it. (Aka: What if Geraldus was with the Harpers at Last Light Inn?)

He was there again; at the bar.

Geraldus slid the bow from his shoulder, resting it on the table as he took a seat, glancing across the length of the inn at the figure at the other end, slumped over, a wine glass in hand, eyes staring into oblivion.

Tumeril was saying something, but he wasn’t really listening; distracted as he took in the tiefling and felt the familiar, aching pang of guilt in his chest.

They hadn’t been fast enough; by the time they’d made it to the source of the noise - the crash of thunder and clatter of swords that had echoed even in this place that seemed to swallow up all sounds - it was too late.

Bodies strewn across the floor already, and there, gathered in dark in a cluster - just a few left; a young woman with lavender hair was shielding two of the small children - children, mostly, were left - and there, chest heaving and eyes wide, flecks of fresh blood across his cheeks - the wizard.

He must have spent nearly all he had to fight them off, his limbs shaking as Geraldus’ compatriots rushed to their side, quickly gathering up the children and fighting back the last of the retreating cultists.

He could still remember what he said as he approached him - those gold eyes meeting his, glowing there in the dark.

“They took them,” he said, “I have to go after them I have to -”

Geraldus took a deep breath as he watched him across the bar now; recognising how absolutely defeated he looked. They hadn’t been fast enough, and the tiefling had lost his family for it. No amount of wine was going to change that, but he seemed determined to try.

“-again once the others are ready to take back over, I guess. We’re not going to find them, though.”

Geraldus glanced back at Tumeril, realising he’d barely heard a word of that, but understood his sense of defeat. They’d lost more than a few already to this place and the unending dark; he knew why Tumeril thought it pointless to try and find survivors at the cost of more lives.

“We can’t give up,” Geraldus said quietly, looking at a pair of the tiefling children huddled together in one corner, playing games together to pass the time, “there’s still…”

Tumeril laughed sharply, shaking his head.

“You’re too naive,” he said, “they’re already dead, Geraldus.”

Maybe he was right. It was getting harder, the more nights they spent in this place, to hold on to the threads of hope that Geraldus had always kept so tight, but he wanted to try.

It all felt like a nightmare that didn’t end, no matter how many times you woke up.

Every morning the sky was still black, and in this place it was always the middle of the night, all of them clinging desperately to the light; even as they bristled against one another in these confines - the Flaming Fist no less frustrated than they were, the refugees struggling to stay afloat, and the High Harper there in the middle of all of it - her sharp gaze overseeing everything.

She was talking quietly now to another; an elf finely dressed in an elegant dress, with dark hair who seemed to be responsible for the Fist. They’d arrived a few days back now, before they’d found the tieflings, and had spent most of their time gathered in one of the side rooms formulating a plan.

Everyone seemed to be looking for a plan; but as each day passed, the hours all starting to blend together, he could feel the weight of this starting to bury them all, one by one.

It wasn’t too late; Geraldus was sure of it. He’d picked up tracks this time - found a path towards the edges of Reithwin, the path to Moonrise Towers; some, at least, had not been pulled away with the cultists. Someone had made it to shelter there in the ruins; he felt sure of it, and he prayed that whoever they were, they were staying safe.

We’ll find you, he told himself, and we’ll find the rest of them, too.

His eyes drew back to the bar; the tiefling’s voice was raised, not quite a shout but close to it, carrying across the bar as he addressed the woman; the bard with the lavender hair.

“A song?” He was saying, voice sharp and filled with spite, “oh of course, what could possibly help more?”

“Rolan-” the bard was saying, a soft, sorrowful look on her face, “I’m just…”

“No please, Alfira,” the wizard replied, leaning back a little, his glass lurching in his hand, a little wine spilling across his hand that he was heedless to stop, “do play us a song, I’m sure this captive audience will appreciate your caterwauling.”

“It will help pass the time whilst we wait to find out just how many of us died for you to get here,” he said, every word sharper than the last.

Geraldus fiddled a little with the edge of his arm-guard, watching as the bard sighed deeply; watching her features crushed with hurt as she crumpled with defeat, slinking away, a glittering of tears in her eyes as she did.

“At least we’ve got quite the supply for them to drown their sorrows,” Tumeril said wryly across the table, eyeing this unfolding scene, “although at the rate they’re going, we won’t have that either soon.”

Geraldus watched the wizard’s face; the victory was fleeting - his face triumphant for only a moment at the bard’s retreating back before the spectre of reality set in, a shard of something impossibly lost, the rawness of mourning fresh and burning, flitting across his features.

The tiefling slumped back against the bar, lifting his glass to his lips, and, finding half of it across his sleeve instead, let out a string of curses under his breath, face turning spiteful again as he rolled up the edges of his cuff with a hiss.

Geraldus watched as he held his glass out again, demanding another. One of the children, glancing at the other nervously, reached for a bottle and poured it.

Geraldus thought faintly that perhaps someone ought to intervene, or at the very least, that the children shouldn’t be behind a bar at all.

“I’d get a drink myself,” Tumeril said, “but I don’t fancy being in that one’s blast radius.”

Geraldus glanced back to Tumeril then.

“He’s lost his family,” Geraldus said quietly, “he’s hurting.”

The tiefling had tried to rush after his family even then, as they had gathered up the others to pull them back to safety. He’d watched as Skywin had grabbed one of the children and lifted them onto her back, calling the retreat.

“Geraldus, there’s no time for this - we have to go.”

He’d reached for the tiefling just as his shaking legs gave out, and helped to pull him to his feet, listening as his compatriots had promised the wizard that they would go after them as soon as they could - that he just had to come with them now first.

Geraldus hadn’t made the same promise, only helped to hold up his arms as they pulled him with them.

“We’ve all lost people,” Tumeril said, a little sombre now, “they’re out there right now paying respects to the three we lost just today.”

Geraldus had seen them, clustered out there on the outcrop by the side of the inn, looking out on the strange light that surrounded them; this false sky conjured by the Cleric above, saying their prayers for the fallen.

“You don’t see the blacksmith drinking himself useless,” Tumeril added, blonde brow raising slightly.

But the blacksmith could still hammer; the bard could still play; the children still had one another to play with, the Harpers had their mission, the Fist had their charge to protect.

The wizard, though?

What could he do other than wait? No wonder he felt so powerless.

“No one should be powerless,” Geraldus said quietly. Tumeril let out a little sigh, reminded, glumly, of their tenets.

“No one should be powerless,” he agreed.

He thought of going to the bar - not that he wanted to drink, he never really did - but then thought better of it.

Tumeril had been right about one thing; around that man at the bar was a tempest, and no one that stepped close would be able to cut through those waves until the storm had passed. He’d condemned himself to facing it alone, and the thought of that created a little uncomfortable swell of sadness in Geraldus’ gut.

Try as he might, he couldn’t stop his heart from aching a little for him; sitting there, his pain spilling out behind the sourness on his face, a pyre burning in silence.

What had she called him, the bard? Rolan.

He committed the name quietly to his memory. Rolan.

–

Rolan’s head was swirling as he leant against the cold stone, letting his forehead press against it for a moment in a vain effort to stop the spinning.

Stepping outside had been a mistake - some loose headed notion that the air would help stop the sensation that he was on the deck of a lurching ship, the ground perilously close to rising up and meeting him as he took each step - but of course, there was no fresh air here - not in this place.

No wind. No stars. Just more spinning and darkness and the images of them - of Lia’s face, her amber eyes burning bright and wide, telling him it would be ok, that they would be ok, of Cal’s hands wrenched behind his back - the sword clattering from his side as he shouted in defiance of the face of his captors.

The feeling, like ice through his heart as he realised there was nothing else he could do to stop this, hearing the sounds of crying behind him - and knowing that no matter how his heart was tearing apart - if he left them these children would die.

Fuck, he thought, feeling the soft scrape of the stone against his skin as he let his forehead slide just a little down the wall, they could be dead already. They’re dying. I’m here and they’re dying and I can’t think and I -

Here, alone, with the swirling void beneath him and just the feeling of stone to anchor him before it swallowed him up, he had no more defences left to stop the tears. They were falling now, whether he wanted them to or not.

Crying, Rolan? You’re crying now like that means anything to them? A tear shed for their loss is as useful as one of Alfira’s fucking songs. It doesn’t help anyone but you.

His stomach was turning now, the spinning sensations starting to lurch in his gut too now, and he could feel it - the wine rising in his throat; his evening of poor decisions ready to stage an encore.

His hand went to his mouth, a vain attempt to stop it before it started, but it was too late - he felt himself retching already.

He span in place and gravity finally claimed him, feeling himself falling forward to the floor with his mind still half in the air, everything feeling a little as if it were happening a few seconds later and a few steps away.

He heaved as an unstoppable wave of wine and iron and bile rose up through his throat.

In his dizzy mind, he hoped, at least, nobody was around to see this particularly heroic display of vomiting.

Alas; that hope was quickly dashed.

He was still spinning, unable to even really look up as he felt a presence beside him, kneeling - fingers reaching, carefully and tentatively, to pull his hair back from his face. He felt those fingers drawing his hair together and gathering it at his nape; and wondered when it had even come loose.

He was still heaving; painful, sharp lurches through his gut that he couldn’t stop, a whole night’s worth of wine determined to make a second appearance.

He was aware of the fingers on his neck the whole time, a hand placed on his shoulder and guiding his wobbling body slightly to lean some weight against them, crouched.

“It’s ok Rolan,” a voice, soft, unfamiliar, was saying, “you’re ok.”

He was grateful at least his tears would be disguised like this; his eyes watering now from the sudden sickness just as much as the pain.

Finally, as it started to cease, he reached up and wiped at his lips with his sleeve. Well; at least he didn’t feel quite as swirling any more; the pain in his gut and the horrible, sharp smell of bile dragging him rather abruptly back towards something more sober.

He let his other hand steady himself against the stranger’s knee, feeling himself shaking a little and trying, desperately, to stop doing so. After a moment that felt far longer than it was, Rolan managed to lift his head, and braved himself to meet their eyes.

He blinked away the watering of his eyes, and found himself looking at a familiar face; one he’d seen only once before, but one he remembered.

He’d heard his saviours before he saw them - a sharp arrow shot striking into the chest of the looming cultist, sending it crumpling to the floor, a deadly hit. Then, to his side, a streak of magic, and the clattering sound of approaching footsteps and metal scraping, armour and swords.

A pair of wide, hazel eyes, dark hair framing soft features, drawn together in concern, a hand placed on his shoulder, the other still clutching a longbow.

“They took them,” he had said, trying to get the stranger to understand that it wasn’t him that mattered, “I have to go after them, I have to-”

Those same eyes were looking at him again now, dark brows drawn together in gentle concern.

He didn’t know what to say; his mind still too filled with haze, his body still wavering, the taste of bile on his lips reminding him just how little dignity he had in this moment.

“Don’t worry,” the stranger said, releasing his gentle grip on Rolan’s hair, and after a moment, whispering in a low voice, words echoing with arcane energy, “te absolvo.”

Rolan felt it; a wave of energy rippling out from the stranger’s grip on his shoulder, spreading out across his body, washing over his mind like water, soothing and cool against the heat and pain that occupied his skull.

As it lapped through him, he felt a little bit of his own mind returning, but not as it had been before the wine, not filled with shrapnel and anger, but simple, clean, feeling like the moment of waking, that blissful space before you remembered all of the details of life that waited in the day.

He was lifting him, slowly, carefully to his feet. Rolan felt himself wobbling, his legs not quite steady enough, and let his weight lean into the stranger's body a moment, unable to do anything else.

His body felt solid, and warm, and a much better anchor than the cold wall had been.

“We should get back inside,” the stranger said gently, “there’s a door, through the back - it’s quieter.”

Rolan pulled back, testing his own feet a moment, and the stranger released his grip. The strange false moonlight was reflected in his eyes, looking at him, aching and genuine in a way that made the creeping sense of shame in Rolan’s gut grow.

What are you doing? Rolan thought, what is the point of you, Rolan?

“I don’t need your help,” he managed, wanting the shame to stop and not knowing how else to get it to stop other than to get this man to stop looking at him.

The stranger smiled; just a small one, the tiniest curve at the edge of his lips.

“No, you don’t,” he said, “but you can have it, anyway.”

Rolan felt a twist now, in his chest; an unexpected sensation there he was struggling to identify, battling with the guilt and misery, and not knowing what to do with any of it. He was exhausted, now, and the world still felt too loose for him to stay in it much longer.

So, he nodded.

“I’m not thanking you,” he said quickly, even though he wasn’t quite sure why he did.

The man smiled again.

“You don’t have to,” he said simply, and then started walking, slowly, leading the way.

As Rolan trailed after him, doing his best to keep his steps steady, he noticed the half-elf glancing back at him, eyes darting across him, making sure Rolan was following him.

He was tall, dressed in impressive armour; a little more notable than many of the other Harpers he’d seen lingering about, not that he had paid any of them any particular attention. He hadn’t cared to learn anything about any of them - they mattered even less than he did.

Still, as they rounded the corner, heading towards the back door, he found himself asking a question.

“Who are you?” He asked.

The man looked a little surprised, but smiled, brushing a little hair back over a pointed ear as he reached for the door handle.

“I’m Geraldus,” he said.

Thank you, Geraldus, he thought, silently, holding the name in his mind a moment before it slipped back into the haze.

[eidolonartt]

Hey! I just wanted to say I really love your character art! I might have said it already and straight up forgot, but that just means you get to hear it again, right?

I was wondering, could I possibly hear some fun facts about Ulrich and Finnick? I love Tieflings so much! Also, what is their dynamic like?

WAHHH THANK YOUUU!!!!! U CAN HEAR PLENTY OF FUN FACTS

Ulrich: - He's not necessarily anti-magic or anything that severe, but he prefers fighting people who don't use it. He feels like dueling with blades only is more fun, and what he can't articulate as well is that he enjoys the connection between him and the other people. He can determine more about them as a person based on their fighting style, but he feels that's not as easy when they're a mage bc he's just not familiar enough with magic - He's a pretty good baker overall and his favorite things to make are regular breads! He's a good enough cook as well. - He doesn't eat most meats because of issues with texture, but fish somethings is an exception. If it's meat in other forms, though, he's usually fine with it (ground red meat in particular is a-ok) - His parents are circus performers who have not talked to him since he was 16 mostly because they couldn't be bothered Finnick: - Wasn't originally born a grey tiefling, at a young age he stumbled onto his parents performing a ritual that went awry, killing them and leaving him drained of his color. He doesn't know why and is still trying to figure it out - As such he doesn't HAVE to dress in greyscale but its something he's embraced as a way to come to terms with the outcome. His blood is black as well, and he does have a gnarly scar on his back - I DID design some of his tattoos with the explicit intent for them to be magic. You can see the tattoo sheet here! I don't even fully remember what I was going for, but the ones on the right from top to bottom I believe are detect magic, identify, find familiar, and sending. His chest piece and other arm are just decoration, and I designed those too :] - He runs a magic store and the hours are kind of ???? ?? heehee <:3 because his sleep schedule is nonexistent. He half-jokingly claims he doesn't keep consistent hours to make the shop seem more exclusive

Dynamic: - Finnick and Ulrich generally get along because they're both kind of jaded and sardonic in similar ways and it led to them understanding each other off the bat more than either of them normally do with new people! They both do the thing where they're kind of prickly and difficult to deal with but they're not earnestly mean or cruel - At the same time they're also both stubborn and difficult to deal with so they butt heads because of that too lol - What brings them together more is Finnick showing thoughtful, unprompted kindness to Ulrich and Ulrich being very stubborn about getting Finnick to improve his own circumstances (eating regularly, not just hyperfocusing on magic books and leaving the house a mess) and helps him through that. - Ulrich is more extroverted between the two of them but in a weird way Finnick has more charisma and is better with people lol

[the23rdnerd]

current writing wips projects i can remember off the top of my head:

a corporation has unlocked a genetic code that gives people biological superpowers, and an alliance of rebels fights them under the guise of a university. Main characters powers include lightning, future sight, stars and making knives cut like through butter.

Magic and superhumans are slowly re-emerging and the UN forms a team of young heroes to fight threats. Members include a guy who is perma-bonded to a tech alien, Mother Nature's chosen one who is a drunk southerner, and a magical supersoldier who carries the mysterious, ambiguosly sentient blade that gave him free will.

two college students [a trans guitarist and a badass biker] are suddenly teleported to an endless plane containing the entirety of human creativity, imagination and mythology, and must partner with various eclectic weirdos from both sides to get home.

Aliens invade in the future and humanity fights back from advanced bunker systems. Also the alien's initial attack recharged the earth's magic aura that had dried up over the centuries, so magic is present too.

The adventures of The Eclectic Thieves, Murderers and Morality Guild, an adventuring party determined to wreck [their own] shit, with such characters as a bodybuilder tiefling with a flesh sword, a pair of twins [an artificer and a druid] who can't stand eachother, a pretty regular noble heiress who moonlights as a thief, a bloodhunter with severe hemophobia from trauma and a satyr bardess who isn't stoned, definitely.

A horror movie script despite the fact i hate them, about 4-6 friends who become the target of a serial killer. There's a supernatural theme and a twist at the end.

A sort of buddy cop drama about a woman who needs help investigating the crime ring she's involved in, so she gets her friend. Said friend is a sociopath who lives in a cabin in the woods and has no aversion to killing if necessary. He's a pretty nice guy compared to the rest.

An SCP Foundation fanfic about a barista/thrift store employee who joins a magical freedom fighter group by accident, gets magic powers and a cool ghost friend, and becomes a wanted figure by the secret organization controlling all of human history.

A Jojo's Bizarre Adventure fanfic set in the early-mid 2000s about the main jojo and her rootin tootin cowboy stand on a scramble to get allies to stop the Y2K Bug, which is a stand controlled by the main antagonist. Said allies are a nerd who can summon things, his brother the street brawler who absorbs energy, a biker who can reflect things, a goth with a lovecraft stand and a sentient, animate stuffed crow/raven who can appear as a larger bird.

A gender-neutral teen in alternate history early 2000s toronto unintentionally finds a piece of asteroid that is alien technology, and now must gather each piece before they cause damage or people use them for bad things. Inspired by shows like Static Shock and Spider-Man, basically.

A story in the style of shows like B99, Parks and Rec, Community and Abbott Elementary. Set in an office studio environment [NOT the office, have not watched it] and mainly serves as a tour of the big city and fictional US State i came up with. The main characters include a depressed bitch, her wheelchair roommate, a Palestinian-American michael jackson impersonator [Free Palestine], and a senior who's off his meds and on the latest trend.

And various spinoffs and sequels i'd rather keep secret for if i ever write my damn things.

Clearly i have too much of the thoughts. Just wanted to share.

[ticklishnonsense]

yasha nydoorin is the ideal woman.

[railroad-migraine]

May I request how each of the campaign 3 characters act with a blood hunter order of the Lycan s/o (maybe their a teifling and instead of turning into a werewolf they turn more demonic?)

Ooohohohooo nice idea! I included a lot of characters here, so enjoy!

Lads, I'm so busy with college, hope y'all understand why I've been quiet :)

~ Poet

S/O is a Demon!Bloodhunter

Ashton

Is your number one fan. His favourite person has a deadly curse that they have mastered and full control over - what's not to like?

At this point, things between you can't get any weirder, and they're convinced that y'all are simply meant to be. They jokingly suggest eloping after seeing your demonic form for the first time, and laughs it off with you, but fuck, that was hot. Absolutely is certain that you guys are soulmates at this point.

He thinks that you're the most badass person he knows, and he won't let anyone not worthy of this side of you say otherwise. Tiefling, demon, bloodhunter - it's a package deal, and Ashton is all for it.

Chetney (lol)

Holy shit, you too??? Thanks for stealing my thunder there. In all honesty though, he's only teasing, because you also having two sides to you puts him at ease - he's not alone in this weird situation, not anymore.

Probably the most unfazed of the party whenever you start shifting forms, because he's got his own stuff to deal with ie. not get stepped on/trip someone up. Plus, he trusts what you're capable of - you don't need his short ass telling you how to fight when you're like this. You guys may share respective curses, but he gets the fact that you both understand and deal with them differently.

Place Chetney on your shoulders and parade around the battlefield with a cackling lycan-gnome wielding woodworker's tools while in your demonic shape. Y'all will either make the enemy cry, retreat or laugh themselves silly; it's a win-win situation.

Dorian

Is so so so accepting of who you truly are, and is so proud of you for revealing this part of you just as the party's ass was getting kicked. You were his knight in shining armour, hellfire wrapping around your body as you fought the enemy; Dorian has committed that image to memory for a future song.

Softly cups your face after the battle, because yes, in moments like this you are far more intimidating in appearance, but he can still make out that impish look on your face. It's you, but at full power, harnessing your curse's ultimate potential.

Will happily argue with Chetney throughout the night that his lovely tiefling partner changing into a demon is NOT the same as transforming into a short and squat werewolf - they actually have the decency to wear clothes, he says with a flushed face.

Fearne

When in your demonic shape, you and Fearne are arguably the most noticeable and eye catching of the party. She's a seven foot tall, drop dead gorgeous faun, and you're a stunning tiefling in your most hellish of forms.

Power couple goals, honestly. Look, we match, she coos as she winds poisonous flowers around your horns in a similar fashion to hers. Who says power can't be pretty?

She has a goal to time one of her own transformations with yours, shifting into a direwolf the moment your eyes burn brighter and your frame heightens. Such a badass way to make an impression at the beginning of a fight, and Little Mister screeches enthusiastically from behind you as you fight with newfound primal determination - Fearne can't help but huff with affection.

Imogen

Squeaks every time you switch forms. It doesn't scare her like it did the first time she saw it happen, because now she understands that it's still you under the guise of a demon - she just doesn't expect it to happen so suddenly and with little notice. That'll never get old, y'know that right?

If you are just as curious as her, while she's venturing through libraries and flicking through ancient tomes trying to figure out her strange dreams and powers, she'd love to find some books to help you understand your infernal bloodline and bloodhunter talents. Knowledge is power, and she already knows you're pretty powerful.

She gets a little shy when you stand next to her in your transformed state. You exude a different energy, magic and strength and wow, it's a lot to take in. She feels so safe at your side, and it's enough to mute the voices she hears and give her own thoughts back, just for a little while - even if they are mainly all about you.

Laudna

As your limbs twist and elongate in the middle of a particularly tough battle, with horns emerging from the crown of your head and your eyes blazing... you hear delighted applause from the warlock-sorcerer beside you. She cheers you on as you tear your way through enemies, whooping and pointing as she looks at the party, because did you see what they did? You're doing splendid, darling!

Laudna is equally fascinated and enamoured by your transformation, but should it cause you any pain during it, she is so gentle afterwards. Makes sure you're spoiled rotten when you return to the form she's more familiar with.

She's even more convinced that you're meant for each other now - you're scary, she's scary - both very *fun scary* in her opinion though. You just get each other, understanding that some people may not understand you both, but that's okay cuz you have each other and this strange found family you have. Match made in heaven (or hells...?) <3

Orym

He's heard of people like you before. Not much, but a little. He already knew that some tieflings were simply born this way, while others change over time. Either way, your heritage combined with your blood hunter curse only accentuates how special you are to him.

Finds it fascinating how it's all still you, but your entire body changes shape, as if formed by some divine template. Laughs as you grow in height, asking if you've got a few extra inches you can lend me?

He can't really put it into words, but to him, he sees you as nothing short of an angel. You were meant to bring harm and despair to this world, and yet you chose good. Orym sees past the hellfire and sharp edges; all he sees you, and how much you care for your friends and for him. And that's enough for the halfling.