#change in brain & body to your advantage in battle. saving/helping someone who actually wants to be your friend -- who has their own

[chaosgenasi]

thinking about all of the laudna & ashton paralells and losing my mind about it actually

[mrpenguinpants]

Xiao: Fainting HCS

FUCK. I FORGOT TO POST THIS EARLIER. AHHHH. I HAVE WORK IN LIKE 2 MINUTES SO I’LL BE BACK TO REPLY TO EVERYONE. 

Hey anon! So sorry it took me forever to finish writing this but good luck if you’re planning on pulling Xiao. I really wanted to finish writing this fic as an offering to the gacha gods that c1 xiao wants to bless me (even tho that’s not gonna happen). But good luck to everyone rolling today^^.

Disclaimer: I have not watch anything about Xiao because my hype can only take so much. This was written before 1.3. So if I get anything wrong or I’m missing something. That’s why.

---

Can I just say how far Xiao has come in my writing since the first part of the semi series? Sniff, feel like we’re making character development for a character that’s not even out yet. I can’t wait for mihoyo to take my HCS and rip them apart.

Xiao Semi Series

[ Friendship ] [ Falling in Love ] [ Cuddles ] [ Protective ] [ Affection ] [ Jealously ] [ Opposites Attract ] [ String Of Fate (Soulmate) ]

[Masterlist]

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[taglist]  <- if you want to be added, please read this first.

​  @hanniejji​@mikeysbike​​ @unionwitch​ @musekala​ @sunnshiii​ @stanzastic​ @akaasea​ @xoneaboveallx​ @adoring-ghost​ @asheseiler​ @childelover​ @dilucsz​ @dai-tsukki-desu​ @thicmitten​ @nonniechan​​ @snowy224 @mayumintsu​ @tigerpriestess @yuu-yuukurotsuki​ @legionqueensav​ @eva-0403 @youaskedfurret​ 

Xiao: Fainting HCS

Instant panic mode engaged. If you’ve ever doubted his adepti power of swiftness you’re about to be mistaken. He’s noticed that you seem a bit out of it but brushed it off as you being tired from your recent journey. If there was anything bothering you, you would tell him. But as he turned around to greet you back, it seems like time is slowing down for him. He sees how your eyes glazed over and become unfocused. The muscles in your body snap and you drop to the ground. He can feel his blood run cold as past memories that have been waiting to jump at him suddenly claw at him but he doesn’t even register them. He’s already running towards you.

He’s already caught you in his arms before you can even meet the wooden floor. His brain is racing as he quickly checks your pulse to make sure you didn’t suffer from a heart attack or a curse. He makes a quick search over your body to check for any injuries, he can already feel the red hot iron of anger fill his system at the thought of someone trying to take advantage of you or threaten you. He’s usually logical in these types of situations, even the death of Rex Lapis didn’t shock him this much, but he’s been battling his conflicting feelings ever since he met you. But now that he’s finally accepted you and himself, he wouldn’t know what to do if anything happened to you. His mind flashes to Guizhong before he shakes away the thought.

It doesn’t occur to him that you might be sick as he tries to shake you awake. Whatever teachings Guizhong and Morax have taught him fly out the window as he holds you so close to his chest, he’s pretty sure his grip on you is bruising. He knew mortal souls weren’t as strong as adepti and staying around one might cause sickness or even worse- death. Was this his fault? He can feel the drop in his stomach as he tries to reign in his emotions and powers, not here.

Verr almost screams when Xiao breaks the wooden ceilings and lands in front of her. She’s scared that there was a monster outbreak or something was wrong with Xiao before she notices your passed out form in his arms. As much as she likes to joke around and thinks your relationship with Xiao is cute, she knows that if anything came to seriously harm you she wouldn’t able to calm Xiao before he goes on a rampage. You mean so much to him and he hasn’t opened his heart to anyone except you.

She can tell he’s nearly past his breaking point as he looks at her with dilated eyes as he asks, no commands, her to help you. It’s such whiplash to her. Xiao’s always been polite and reserved that she almost forgets he used to be a demon slaying Yaksha, but this isn’t the time for her to worry about that. She quickly leads him to the backroom since there’s no way Xiao wouldn’t bite any hand that comes near you. Bless Verr’s heart since this isn’t the first time she’s had to handle Xiao’s outbreaks that she manages to save face and contact a doctor that was staying at the inn to look at you. She does feel a bit bad for the doctor who looks like he’s about to piss himself in fear as Xiao growls and watches the doctors every move with piercing yellow eyes.

Xiao is still wary when the doctor and Verr try to calm him down and examine you more closely, always flinching back whenever their hands get too close to you, letting out a dangerous hiss whenever there’s the slightest twitch of discomfort in your face when the doctor feels your heated forehead. As soon as the doctor concludes that you’ve been sick for the past few days and your body just needs to heal itself and recharge, the tension on Xiao’s shoulder loosens and the suffocating aura that’s been filling the room slowly filters out. Verr can’t help but sigh in relief but can’t bring herself to scold Xiao for breaking the inns roof as she watches him look over your form with worried eyes as he softly nudges your cheek. He’s still holding you but his grip has loosen slightly as he rests his forehead against yours. He breathes a sigh of relief as he rubs small circles in your hand. Xiao’s never been the most affectionate or shown to be the most caring but you’ve seriously scared him. She quietly leaves him be and closes the door as she begins to prepare to fix the damages.

Xiao never leaves your side as he waits for you to wake up. He can’t help but berate himself for not confronting you. The doctor said you would be fine but he can’t but imagine your body falling in a more violent scene. He quickly shakes those thoughts away as he paces around the room, sits besides you, then goes back to pacing. Usually he would go on a walk or beat his aggression out but he doesn’t want to leave you alone should you awake early.

Xiao doesn’t ramble about his day while you’re asleep, instead he just observes your features and the small movements you make to remind him that you’re okay. How your chest moves up and down as you breath or how your eyes sometimes scrunch in sleep. You’ve made him almost trip when you did it the first time since he thought you were waking up. He can’t help but think back to his fellow Yaksha’s and what they would say if they saw the way he was acting now.

Since his panic attack has mostly subsided he’s found himself growing more curious. He’s still worried about you but he’s managed to reason with himself that you’re okay, just sick which he’s going to scold you a bit for when you awake, so he softly brushes his fingers across your face. Before snatching his hand away in embarrassment. What the hell is he doing? Guizhong would slap him sideways if she saw him now. He huffs at himself as he deflates a little and rests his head on the bed beside your head. He’s patient. He will wait when your ready to wake up.

When you suddenly gain consciousness, it feels as if the entire world is weighing you down. You slowly blink open your eyes to see a worried Xiao hovering over you, his hands awkwardly in the air since he’s not sure if it’s okay to touch you.

“How are you feeling?” Xiao asks as his eyes dart all over the place before resting on your face. You’re still a bit out of it but you can tell he must have been really worried. You try to give him a small smile but with how scuffy you feel you can bet it’s not a pretty picture.

“Like I got slammed with one of Zhongli’s meteors,” you tried to laughed before coughing as Xiao quickly pressed a cup of water to your lips. Slowly letting you drink and calm down. 

“If you have time to make jokes then you’re alright” Xiao sighs before his features change slightly. His eyes glaze over in concern as a small frown appears. He really does look like a kicked kitten as he slumps over as the stress finally lifts as he feels your hand softly run through his hair.

“Sorry,” you say, he must have been so stressed out while you were passed out for him to look so exhausted. He simply nudges into your hand before turning his face to kiss your palm,

“There’s no need for apologies. I’m...just glad you’re okay,” Xiao mumbles before he’s back to pressing his head into your stomach. You can’t help but smile delicately as you reach over and bring Xiao up with you until he’s lying over you as you hug him gently. There’s a bit of shuffling before you’re able to spoon him as he let’s himself relax after the two day panic attack he just went through.

---

When you’ve fully recovered Xiao seems to hover around you a bit more. Well not a bit, a lot more, but no one has the heart to tell him that. It’s actually kind of adorable seeing the aloof and reserved adepti seem to follow you around like a loss duckling. Making sure you’re okay and you’re not overworking yourself. He still keeps his tough demeanor but you seriously gave him a big scare.

When Zhongli and Childe come over for their weekly visits of tea, they were aware that Xiao had locked himself in a room to watch over you and anyone that even stepped near the door would be skewered with a spear - and Verr would make them pay for the damages (Zhongli) and whatever consequences Xiao saw fit (Childe) - but they are happy to see you’re okay. You all fall back into your usual rhythm of conversation or Childe trying to get a rise out of Xiao while you and Zhongli talk about how lovely the weather’s been.

Zhongli let’s you in on some details that Xiao or Verr never mentioned while Childe and Xiao are fighting about who knows what. How Xiao wouldn’t leave your side or that he resembled a kicked kitten as he nudged your hand when he thought no one was looking. He offers you some medicine herbs to help with exhaustion and to take care of yourself. Likewise, to give Xiao some pain medication on his behalf. You’re one of the few good things in Xiao’s life and he doesn’t want anything bad happening to you.

---

Hmm. I didn’t mean to but I totally believe in the dad zhongli train and I think Zhongli basically just gave you his blessing? Maybe I’m thinking too hard on this haha.

Maybe this is better? Trying to figure out writing styles are hard. Either way, I’m never gonna end up kicking my paragraph HCS habit haha. If you couldn’t tell, I really like feral protective but lowkey vulnerable types (coughrazorcough). Xiao is so OOC at this point I don’t even know how to fix it. Please come home Xiao. 

(Edit: FUCK YEAH HE CAME HOME WITH DILUC. WE 90ED THIS BITCH AND IM ABOUT TO MAX HIS TALENTS. ILL SHARE IT WITH YOU ALL (since people have been asking) WHEN I GET BACK FROM WORK)

[morganaspendragonss]

Hello! Fic request please. Okay, so TK and Carlos never got together. During the Boba date, TK let Carlos know that they should be friends and Carlos understood. So they became good friends but TK just self sabotages a lot so he loved Carlos then but didn't want to let Carlos in so he thought it better to just let him go and settle for a friendship. So one day, they decide to check out this new place for lunch. TK excuses himself for the bathroom and he hears this huge explosion and feels the impact. When he gets out, it's a fiery mess. All that is on his mind: I have to find Carlos. Even when the 126 respond to the explosion, TK refuses to leave until he has found Carlos. Carlos is found unconscious, injured and with severe smoke inhalation. 📍

holly's august extravaganza day 13: couldn't utter my love when it counted

thank you! you've given me such wonderful prompts and it's been a pleasure to write every single one of them! 💚😊

ao3 | 3k | canon divergence, explosions, major character injury, angst with a happy ending, love declarations

TK has made a lot of mistakes in his life, but undoubtedly one of the biggest was letting Carlos Reyes go. He hates the person he was back then, the one who was too blind to see that what he needed—what he wanted—was right in front of him, in a very literal sense.

“How long are you going to avoid talking about it TK?”

“Us?”

“What are we? Are we even a ‘we’?”

TK wants to say yes. He looks at Carlos with his soulful brown eyes and kind tilt to his mouth and he just knows that this is someone he could let in. He’s already seen some of TK’s darkest depths, and yet he’s still here, still asking, still wanting to be with him.

Then again, Carlos isn’t the only one who has been with him despite, and the last person who did that ended up growing tired of him. Carlos would promise against it if he knew what TK was thinking, but it’s an impossible promise to make, far easier said than done. He isn’t that kind of person, TK knows this—but then, neither was Alex, until he was.

He can’t risk it. Besides, he barely recognises his life anymore, and he can’t ask Carlos to hang around indefinitely until he can get his head in order again. If there’s one thing TK is certain of, it’s that Carlos is a good man, and he doesn’t deserve to have to deal with all of TK’s bullshit, however much TK may want it.

So. That’s it.

“I like you, Carlos. I want to get to know you better. But as friends. I’m not in a place for a relationship—I don’t know if this is where I belong, or even if I can be a firefighter anymore. And I just. I just think that I have to work out who I am before I can let someone else in on that, you know? So… Can we? Be friends, I mean?”

Carlos would be well within his rights to say no, after all. But instead he smiles, a little sad, but still as gentle as ever, and says, “Sure. I’d love that.”

TK realised three things pretty quickly after that moment.

One: Austin is his home.

Two: He belongs at the firehouse—but as a paramedic.

And three: He is in love with Carlos Reyes.

But his moment has come and gone. That conversation is the kind that can’t be taken back; the damage has been done, and now TK has to live with the consequences. It’s not all bad—he still has Carlos in his life, and things are… Things are good. They hang out regularly, they have an ongoing text thread, there’s no awkwardness or resentment between them. All things considered, they’re in a better place than they were back during their pseudo-dating phase.

But still, TK misses him.

It’s a strange feeling, missing someone who’s right there beside him. TK hadn’t realised how much he would lose when they became ‘just friends’ for real, but now he finds himself noticing more and more the absence of a flirty twinkle in Carlos’s eye or the suggestive lilt to his words. There’s still an air around them, a sense that, if he just pushed a little, they could easily tip over into more. Into whatever they were on their way to becoming before TK drew his line in the sand.

He won’t, though. It wouldn’t be fair—Carlos has already put up with so much from him that it’s a miracle he’s even still around at all—and TK is not willing to risk what is now the best friendship of his life. If having Carlos in his life means keeping his hands to himself and forever refusing the urge to kiss him senseless, then it’s a small price to pay.

*

“You’re such an ass!” TK shoves Carlos lightly as they walk down the street, rolling his eyes at the smirk sent his way. “Why can’t you just suck it up and accept that maybe you don’t know Austin as well as you think you do?”

Carlos raises a solitary eyebrow. “Because I’ve lived here my entire life?”

“That doesn’t mean anything. Besides,” he cuts in, before Carlos can come back with some other stupid, logical argument, “this place only popped up a few months back so there’s no way you’ve had enough time to make a proper judgement.”

“And you have?”

“Shut up.”

Carlos laughs and, though TK tries to glare at him, he can’t help but be drawn into it. He shakes his head and looks down to avoid Carlos’s eyes, only for his gaze to catch on their hands, swinging in sync mere centimetres apart. How he aches to close that distance and thread their fingers together; to tell Carlos everything he’s been pushing down for months—

Carlos lifts his hand to run his fingers through his hair, and the moment is broken. If he noticed TK’s lapse, then he doesn’t show it, instead turning to him with an amused smile. “Alright,” he says, “how about this? You take me wherever this is, and next time, I’ll take you to the actual best pizza place in Austin; then we’ll see who’s right.”

TK wishes he could kiss that self-satisfied smirk off his face. See how smug he is then.

“Fine,” he agrees. “Prepare to eat your words, Reyes.”

“Looking forward to it.”

God, TK hates him.

*

Carlos is being infuriatingly quiet as they eat, and it’s grating on TK’s every nerve. TK is well aware he’s doing it for that exact purpose, but he’s never been known for his patience—a fact which Carlos knows all too well and is rudely taking advantage of.

“So?” TK demands, folding his arms on the tabletop. “Was I right, or was I right?”

Carlos hums, pretending to consider the slice in his hand with great care. Then, he meets TK’s eyes and drops it back on the plate, re-settling in his seat with a shit-eating grin. “It was okay.”

TK’s mouth drops open. He blinks at Carlos for a good few seconds, then snaps his jaw shut with a click, shaking his head and sighing. “I hate you,” he grumbles, refusing to look Carlos in the eye.

Carlos has the audacity to actually laugh. “No, you don’t,” he says, and he doesn’t know quite how true that is. TK feels a blush start to rise on his cheeks, which cannot happen, so he clears his throat and slides out of his seat.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” he says. “Maybe you’ll have reconsidered by the time I come back.”

TK can’t stop a grin from forming the second he turns his back, his heart doing a stupid little dance in his chest. He doesn’t need a mirror to know that his face is bright red, and he’s going to have to splash a significant amount of water over him before he can even think about facing Carlos again.

He takes his time in the bathroom, stopping to stare at his reflection in the mirror for several minutes and trying to talk himself down from any more-than-friendly feelings towards Carlos.

Later, they’ll tell him that this saved his life.

But that won’t be for a long time, until after the smoke has cleared and the dead have been counted and the statements have been taken.

For now, TK steels his resolve and nods at himself, then turns to the door, a hand reaching out for the handle.

That’s when the explosion rips through the building.

*

He’s floating.

He’s… He doesn’t… Something’s not right. Something…

Underwater. He can’t hear anything and he’s floating and he’s underwater, except he can’t be because he was just in a restaurant with Carlos and they were talking and—and—

The world slams back into him with the force of a freight train and TK coughs as he instantly feels like his entire body is being compressed, his airways closing up. It takes a few seconds to realise his eyes are closed and several more before he can open them, only to be met with even more darkness.

He blinks—so he definitely has opened them—but he still can’t see a damn thing. Is he… He can’t be blind. He can’t.

TK’s chest tightens even further and the panic causes his limbs to twitch, to scrabble at the ground, and the movements must be enough to dislodge something because suddenly there’s light streaming into his eyes. He slams his eyelids shut instinctively, and it’s a long moment before he can crack them open again.

His surroundings come to him in bits and pieces. To his left, a pile of cracked porcelain—the sink, he realises. The floor glitters with a material TK can’t identify until he catches sight of his reflection in a shard of glass just in front of him. And on top of him, something heavy, rough—wood?

The door!

Slowly, agonisingly, he manages to shift to all fours, then to his knees, then finally staggers to his feet. He sways in place, watching the bathroom door hit the floor, and—that’s strange. It doesn’t make a sound.

He can’t hear anything, actually, aside from a faint, high-pitched ringing. The paramedic in him tells him that this is a bad thing, but he feels separate from both his brain and his body; he’s floating somewhere outside his body, this whole situation feeling like a dream, or perhaps a nightmare.

A thought drifts through his mind then. No, not a thought, a name.

Carlos.

He was with Carlos. He has to find Carlos.

TK stumbles forward, grabbing onto anything within reach as the battle to stay upright gets harder with each second that passes. An intense heat hits him as he makes it into what he thinks is the main seating area and the change in atmosphere is instant—thick, black smoke invades his lungs, sending him back to his knees, body heaving with coughs.

The restaurant is on fire and TK can barely keep his eyes open as he searches for any sign of Carlos. He forces his aching body further, any pain taking a back-seat as the need to find Carlos grows. He’s still not sure what’s happening or how they got in this mess, but he knows that Carlos is in danger, and TK isn’t going to let him die. Not now. Not ever, if he can help it.

He crawls through the restaurant, blind and deaf to where he’s going, but he’ll know it’s Carlos when he finds him. He knows he will. There’s nothing that could stop him from recognising Carlos.

TK doesn’t know what’s happening when he suddenly feels himself being lifted, something bulky being placed over his face. It’s a shock, the sensation of being able to breathe clean oxygen, and it goes to his head for a moment, the dizziness growing even as his vision begins to clear up.

He catches sight of 126 emblazoned on a helmet and familiar, worried eyes looking down at him, and that’s when it connects. His family are here, they’re here, but Carlos is still somewhere and TK is not leaving without him. He struggles in his father’s grasp, managing to squirm and flail enough to get his feet on the floor and for his dad’s grip on him to falter.

But the relief is momentary; no sooner is he standing than the vertigo and nausea takes over, and he crumbles.

This time, when the world goes black, it stays that way.

*

They tell him it was a gas explosion in the restaurant’s kitchen. They say he’s lucky to be alive, that his trip to the bathroom saved him. They say he needs plenty of rest and time to heal.

They don’t tell him anything about Carlos.

TK asks, he’s been asking since the moment he woke up in the hospital. But the team knows nothing and the doctors keep saying to focus on his own injuries rather than worrying about someone else.

Someone else, as if that’s all Carlos is. He’s the love of TK’s fucking life, but they might never get the chance to be anything more than friends; TK has seen the news. His dad had switched it off the second he caught him watching it, but he’d seen enough to know that survivors are few, and, of those, most of them weren’t as lucky as TK.

His injuries were serious, but they’ll heal. He’ll probably have scars from the shrapnel from when the explosion first went off and from the burns he acquired looking for Carlos, and he’s going to have one hell of a tinnitus case for a while, but it’s nothing. Less than nothing.

He’s alive, which, if Carlos is dead or dying, is far more than he deserves.

*

On his fifth day in hospital, they tell him he can go home later. He should be grateful, but it just feels like another thing that’s happened to him in a long line of things. He’s waiting for his dad to come back from picking his prescription up when there’s a knock at the door, and TK looks up to see an older Latino couple, the woman looking at him with a deep sadness in her eyes.

“I… Are you TK?” she asks haltingly.

TK frowns and nods, surprised by the relief that floods her face when he does. He doesn’t have to wonder for long, though.

“I’m Andrea. Carlos’s mother. This is his father, Gabriel.” She gestures to the man next to her, who nods at TK, his mouth pinched. TK swallows nervously, terror building in him at the thought of what Carlos’s parents could be doing here. “The doctors tell us you’ve been asking about our son,” Andrea continues. “We wanted to come and talk to you and give you the news ourselves.”

TK swears his heart stops in his chest. “Is he…”

He can’t get the words out, can’t put the idea into existence, but Andrea clearly picks up on what he’s thinking as she crosses the room, taking his hands in hers.

“He’s alive,” she says. “He… He lost a leg in the explosion and his lungs were damaged from the smoke, but the doctors have told us that the worst danger has passed. We’re just waiting for him to wake up now.” Andrea pauses, biting her lip. She looks at Gabriel, then back to TK, releasing his hands. “How do you know our son? Are you…”

“We’re friends,” TK says, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. “He’s the best friend I’ve got. Thank you for telling me.”

*

He leaves his number with Andrea and Gabriel, and they promise to keep him updated on Carlos’s condition.

Four days after TK goes home, he gets a phone call to say that Carlos is awake. He’s back at the hospital within the hour, racing as fast as he can (which, infuriatingly, isn’t very fast right now) to the room number they gave him.

The sight he’s greeted with just about takes his breath away.

Carlos smiles at him, and he’s covered in bandages and scrapes and he’s clearly exhausted, but he’s smiling, and TK swears he’s never looked more beautiful. He stands in the doorway for a long time, just staring at Carlos for the first time in nine days, so captivated by him that he doesn’t notice the knowing look that passes between Andrea and Gabriel.

“We’ll give you boys some time to catch up,” Gabriel says. He pats TK’s shoulder when they walk past him, and it’s enough to spur him back into action.

TK crosses the room in three quick strides, reaching for Carlos’s hand the second he’s settled in the chair. He almost sobs when he feels Carlos squeeze his hand back; it’s weak, more just a twitch of the fingers, but it feels like everything.

“Hi,” Carlos says, his voice quiet and raspy.

TK sniffs, opens his mouth to say hi back, but maybe the explosion knocked him about more than he realised, because what comes out instead is, “I love you.”

Their eyes widen at the same time, a flush rising on TK’s face as he processes what he just did. “I—I’m so sorry, Carlos, I—” He shakes his head and tries to pull his hand back, but Carlos’s grip tightens, keeping him firmly in place.

“Say it again,” he demands.

TK blinks. “What?”

“Say it again.”

He hesitates another second, but the slight uptick to Carlos’s lips gives him the confidence he needs to look Carlos in the eyes.

“I love you. I’ve loved you for the longest time and I’m so sorry that I couldn’t see it before. I was scared, and I thought I wouldn’t be able to handle a relationship, and I figured it would be easier to let you down than risk hurting us both when we inevitably realised it couldn’t work out.

“But I was so wrong, Carlos. Back at the restaurant, after the explosion, all I cared about was finding you and making sure that you were okay. I couldn’t stand the thought that anything might have happened to you, and I’ve been going out of my mind since it happened because I didn’t know how you were. I—I can’t lose you, Carlos.”

He takes a deep breath and blinks away the tears beginning to gather in his eyes, attempting a trembling smile to match Carlos’s own. “I love you,” he whispers. “If it’s too late, then I understand. I just. I need you in my life. I need you, Carlos. However you’ll have me.”

Carlos holds his gaze for a long time after TK has finished speaking, and it feels like he’s seeing right through him. Eventually, after so long that TK’s lost all sense of time, he slowly raises his hand, brushing his knuckles across TK’s cheek, then coming to rest on the back of his neck.

“I love you, too.”

And the light pressure from Carlos’s hand is all the invitation TK needs to close the distance between them, his heart pounding as he kisses Carlos for what feels like the first time.

Hopefully, it’s the first of many, and the first of the rest of their lives.

[multifacetecl-archive]

@hereticlord​ has reported :  💋     —     FOUR TIMES MY MUSE THOUGHT ABOUT KISSING YOURS AND THE ONE TIME THEY ACTUALLY DID .     /    OPEN .

001 .

“I’m mad at you,” Apple said with a small huff, eyes narrowing at him as fingers worked on wrapping the bandages around his injured arm. They were sitting in the grass, or rather, he was while she sat on a fallen tree to give her a slight height advantage to make her work easier. “That was careless, and stupid, and just because—” A deflated sigh escaped her then, knowing she was wasting her breath; he won’t change. This will be part of his life. And she didn’t want him to change. She just worried. A lot. It was simply in her nature to do so.

He teases her, as he often does, and Apple finds it is hard to stay mad at him. No, she didn’t want him to change. Never. She accepted him, every part of him, even the parts that make her twist with anxiety. “Come here,” she chides, hands catching his face and tilting his head up to face her. Her eyes scan his features, gauging the damages done; a small bruise against his cheek, something she can easily tend to. A few cuts here and there, but they’re not too bad.

Her eyes fall on the split of his lip, and she tutted her tongue. Except, her eyes linger longer than she intended to, and she felt her cheeks burn red when he catches her.

“Try to go a few days before I see you as a patient again, will you?” She said, pushing him away playfully. 

002.

Apple absolutely loathes unnecessary violence, which was what made their relationship — whatever it was — rather ironic. While she lived a pacifist lifestyle, to the best of her ability anyways, he had chaos and the urge for battle coursing through his veins; she can’t figure out if it was simply because he loved the adrenaline, or if it was something deeper than that. But she kept her comments to herself, unless it was violence done in her name.

Though, admittedly, Childe had plenty of reasons to worry — how many treasure hunter camps has she walked into, throwing herself in danger, for the act of healing. Knowing that they can just as easily hurt her as easily as she trusted them.

“Childe, I can’t breathe,” Apple protests, arms held out at her side before fingers moved to his shoulders and she shoved gently at him. He was holding her so tight, it was almost as if he was afraid. The idea of anyone worrying about her well being was beyond her, which was so hard to believe, given how beloved the traveling doctor was to most. But she comes from a place where . . . People hated her for the reasons the people of Liyue adored her. And it was the opinions of home that leaves her damaged.

He finally releases her, ruffles her hair, and she pulls back and looks up at him. Heart hammering in her chest, she smiled at him, catching his hand and holding it to her chest. “Let’s get out of here, okay?” 

003.

She never forgot the way Childe held her that day at the domain. The color of his aura when he found her, bound, amongst a bunch of hoarders despite her pure intentions of helping them. That was simply in her nature, it was her legacy. Her dying right. The history of her people has taught her that she was nothing but fodder to the Gods. A being meant to sacrifice themselves to the beasts that once terrorized Teyvat and bring peace to their slumbers so the people of the world can have one less catastrophe to behold.

Bone Witches were made with despair, revenge, and self-sacrifice. She was made by the woes of her fallen sisters, centuries in the past, to uphold their heavy burden once more. Sometimes she dreams of a woman from centuries ago, crying over her, pitying her poor great granddaughter whom she tried to save from her same fate.

Apple never learned the meaning of self-preservation until that day. It never, ever, ever occurred to her that she was seen as someone cherished and precious. Cared for enough that they would cling to her in such a way. Sure, anyone else would have saved her, but it was a matter of morals, not affection.

Pacifistic ideations aside, there’s a small sense of pride at the look of shock that comes from the archer. Electro sparks and hops off of her blade, the hirichurl that had charged at her sent flying into the cliffside. She will fight, rather than accept her fate. Rather than fear and wonder if she will one day meet Death like she has not been tempting him and silently hoping to be relieved from her responsibilities.

She had forgotten the rush of adrenaline when her metal sings with every strike of sword. When they’re done, the electro swordswoman practically throws herself at him. “Did you see me? Bet you never thought I can do that, huh?” She sing-songed, arms wrapped around his neck. She pulls back, and their faces are inches apart. 

She’s forgotten what it looks like to have someone proud of her.

004.

“Did . . . Did you see . .. ?” 

Apple’s voice wavered, and it was clear that she was fighting back the tears that threatened to pool in her coppery gaze. Her back was turned to him, shoulders stiff and raised as if she was trying to recoil into herself, like a turtle in its shell. It was a stupid question, of course he did. Why else would he be here? Have followed her? Most people here were good at minding their own business, even when something like that happens for everyone to see.

“Stay away from him, you — you monster! I thought we saw the last of you! You’ll curse us, you should have joined your sisters!” The words spoken from the woman from her home village stung more than the slap across her cheek and the soreness of her back from when she was shoved into the moat of water. She had thought the little, lost boy she was helping looked familiar. She could tell by his clothes that he was of Inazuma origins, but she didn’t think that he was the grandson of one of the elders of her village that had, almost literally, chased her out of her own home.

Not that would have stopped her. Knowing it’d end up like this, she would never leave a boy to wander by himself through Liyue harbors, with its maze like design.

Turning to face Childe, the sight before him was absolutely heart breaking. Her lips were curved in their usual smile, still filled with warmth and care and love. But she was crying. Tears flowed from her eyes, even though they were clenched shut in a desperate attempt to keep them in.

“Please tell me you didn’t see. You didn’t hear.  I don’t want —” . . . I don’t want you to hate me, too.

Apple remembers sobbing then, as he pulls her in silently. She’s grateful he doesn’t comment on the show that was so graciously provided to the citizens of Liyue. Just offers her the comfort she needed to hear, and was too afraid to ask for. When she calmed down enough and he offered to treat her out to help lift her spirits, all she wanted to do was kiss him.

Even if she meant something to him, and not in the way he did to her, it was all she could think about the rest of the night. But the many sweets she indulged on was enough. 

005.

To say that Apple knew no fear would be the farthest thing from the truth. She knew fear. It was not in the form of her own well-being, though that was something she was starting to work on. But it was in the form of the well-being of others. The people she cared about. Deeply. She knew fear in the form of failure. In the form of abandonment. One would think that, someone who was as pure - hearted as she was, would harbor a hatred for those who were meant for darkness—willingly or not. One would think that she would side herself with the good, and yet, here she was. 

The chaos and havoc is thick in the air, it was almost  nauseating to someone who was so sensitive to auras and the dark. She picks her way through the masses of bodies, hands clutched to her chest, as her eyes scan the corpses around her, steps hasty and almost timid.

Apple is no stranger to the dead. But if there was something she feared: it was this draw she seemed to have to them. Her vision glows, and her hand rises to cover it, clenching it tight in her grasp. “Don’t—” she whispers to herself, mouth dry. Dark magic churns in the pits of her stomach, calling out to the bodies around her.

Bone Witch, the souls of the dead call out for her, and she does her best not to answer. All it would take to raise an army of the dead is to raise her finger in the air and a rune for its namesake to be drawn in the air. The Foul Legacy had left her an army to her disposal, if she so wished.

“There you are . . .” Came a breath of relief when she finally catches up to Childe. Though . . . She wasn’t sure if that is who she should call him. She is unbothered and equally unfazed by the gore that stains his skin, or the inhuman glow of his hypnotic gaze.

It’s voice is almost hypnotic as It speaks at her. Speaks her name in a voice that was both Childe’s but not at the same time. Like an echo in a cave, the voices fill her brain. “Do you hate me too?” It seems to ask, mocking her with the words she was afraid to speak that night in Liyue. 

She surprises It with a small laugh, hand moving to stifle the sound with the bend of her knuckle. It’s a little funny to her, and she knows she shouldn’t laugh. Her hating him . . . Would make her just as bad as her people. Who hated her for something she could not control. Apple understands now, why she has this draw to him. Felt a likeness she has never felt with anyone else before.

There’s more confidence in her steps as she approaches, though a small falter of slight annoyance that size is, as always, an obstacle. But, she makes do and stops before It. Fingers find the fabric of their scarf, and she pulls them down. The kiss is rather gentle for something filled with havoc and blood, and when she pulls way from It, copper on her tongue, her eyes locks with Its purple.

“Never,” she answers it, soft and sweet. She can never come to hate him, no matter what side of him stands before her. 

[jq37]

thoughts on this week's ep?

**spoilers for broadway brawl**

***Before we start, I remembered as I was typing this one of the important notes I lost from last week’s recap: Interesting that Christmas seemingly went off without a hitch. I expected Santa to come back into play somehow (like, someone would check on him to make sure Christmas was still on or he’d call them in to help or something) but he hasn’t, at least not yet.***

My guys, my guys, my guys. Was that something or was that something?

I think I am on record as saying that combat is my least favorite part of ttrpgs generally speaking because I’m here for the RP but when a combat episode shines it really freaking shines (see eg: that first combat ep of Bloodkeep where everyone went full Galaxy Brain except for Matt who couldn’t hit a single thing) and this is such a good example. This is easily a top five ep of the season for me, maybe top three so let’s get into it and break down why it was so awesome.

We start right where we left off with Titania and members of her court having come into the theater to beat the tar out of Misty mid-show.

Quick note: At the end of last ep, it was set up so that Misty was thrust on stage right after hearing the mirror was on stage which would place this fight right at the top of Act 2 but at the start of this ep, Brennan seems to indicate that it’s taking place during what would be the closing number. Which would make more sense but imagine you go see a play, the first act is super dope, and then the second act is an insane, minute long fight that’s pretty unconnected to the plot and then a buff, naked, beautiful man tells you the show is over and you should leave. Wild. Anyway.

Pixies with tommy guns in inherently funny.

So one of the things that makes this fight really great is the way it directly ties into the story in a way besides “These bad guys are in our way.” Misty is using this show as a part of her reincarnation spell so if the show is messed up, it fails and she’s on her last life. Brennan has a cool mechanic of making her roll death saves every round at a difficulty lower than her modifier (which is s/t crazy like 11) but that gets harder with damage done to her and performance checks failed by other players who decide to jump on stage. It’s a great way to make the battle feel like it has more personal stakes and it’s my fave original Brennan mechanic since the Family in Flames Sophie’s Choice situation.

(I love that the death save counter is changed for theater comedy/tragedy masks for this. Nice touch.)

Em, Esther, and Wally are also at the fight which is clutch.

Also, Sondheim is specifically here which is an insane detail to add just because.

WILD that no one knows what’s going on with the ritual initially because, as Lou almost does, getting all the civilians out is the smart move and it would COMPLETELY ruin Misty’s plans instantly.

Lou having Kingston take the stairs bc’s he’s 50+ years old and has no time for that nonsense has equal but opposite energy to him doing extra rolls for Fabian to do unnecessary parkour before a simple attack because Fabian’s Like That.

Murph fireblasts the hell out of Titania’s foot soldiers right off the bat from outside of counterspell range which is very cool.

“Give me a performance check for the cockroach.”

“You’re upstaging me bitch?”

Another great thing about this fight is that because of it’s theatrical nature, everyone’s RPing it more than a usual battle ep (or more intensely maybe is what I mean).

Titania hypnotizes Don Confetti and his goons into fighting for her.

“She doesn’t know she’s in a play but she does sing most of her dialogue which is helpful for you.” Titania is just Like That.

Pete drops an erupting earth and drops a sick 37 damage on those same minions Kug got.

I didn’t notice before but yeah, Ally does roll die like a f-ing beyblade champion.

Emily hearing Murph’s low key, offhand comments and cracking up is great.

“Get Sondheim!” (Emily and then Ally: WHAT?!)

Actual living dude Stephen Sondheim being involved in this fight is just so ridiculous and fun and crazy.

We go around to Misty’s turn and she has to beat a 28 (upped from 10) and she fails which feels worse than a normal failed death save somehow.

Lou, in a very good RP move, tells Pete to tell Misty to end the show so she can tell them not to so the group has a valid reason to not evacuate which is a thing they (or at least him and Ricky) would obviously want to do.

Sophie, the madwoman, jumps out of the balcony, grabs a costume, then runs on stage. Emily’s glee at being told that her grabbing the costume will give her advantage is great. She’s always trying to figure out how to make the most of her moves. She is the living embodiment of the concept of method to madness (which is from Hamlet since we’re talking Shakespeare today). 

Ox is constantly dying (Brennan!) but also it’s like, why was he even there before the fight started? I’ve never seen a non-service dog in a theater.

Ricky: Is this part of it?

Oh, forgot to mention that everything that happens on stage is kinda shielded by the Umbral Arcana so everyone watching thinks it’s part of the show, which is a cool plot detail.

Ricky gets fULLY NAKED (Emily, with perfect comic timing: Now do I roll with disadvantage?) and leaps into the fray. He casts Protection from Evil and Good on her which (1) He does by Magic Mike body-rolling on her while he’s naked and considering how much shorter she is that her raises some interesting questions about positioning and (2) is the most clutch use of this spell I’ve seen in a while. It’s a spell I always wanna take as a Paladin because it makes sense character-wise, but I’ve never been able to actually use it because we’re never fighting fiends, fae, or celestial.

Brennan’s dime change change reversal of the critic’s comments on Ricky’s body rolls when Zac re-rolls his 11 makes me glad I never had to face him in a debate team setting.

Ally: What’s Esther’s deal ;)/Brennan: *Esther’s Weapon Stats*

“Your only secret you’ve ever had in your life is that you have a crush on her.”

Wally has a beautiful singing voice and a working knowledge of Midsummer's which is wild.

Lou’s periodic, “My man”’s when Ally/Pete does something cool. He’s very dialed into being Kingston.

Ricky’s aura keeps everyone near him from being charmed and Misty saves everyone else w/ a nat 20 counterspell. Few things in D&D are more satisfying than a well executed counterspell.

Titania trying to get Pete to be her consort or something when he just over the super posh Priya is very funny.

“I mean between me and Sondheim, get Sondheim!”

“DO WE HAVE HOMEWORK TONIGHT?” (“We did have homework.”)

Anyway, Misty has one success now!

Misty tries to use puppet to get Titania to drop her crown and it doesn’t work. Brennan says the crown is Crown of Stars which I looked up and it’s actually a spell, not a physical crown, but I’m assuming he used the mechanical effects of the spell on a physical item.

Brennan doing all these musical/singing bits when he absolutely doesn’t have to. I love it.

I love Ricky and Sophie being the two martial fighting heavy hitters of the group. Like, the two fighters, having the spellcasters’ backs.

I hope the one kung fu fan in the back of the theater never sees another Broadway show again because he’s gonna be so disappointed. 

“I’m just so inspired by that beautiful penis.”

Murph, out of character, verbally acknowledging how insane what they’re doing is. I love when someone pauses in a game of D&D to just recite what’s currently happening out of context so everyone can appreciate how crazy it is. D&D. Gotta love it..

Emily and Siobhan have a quick conversation in the background about whether Sondheim did Les Mis or not (not, that’s Claude-Michel Schönberg) while Brennan and Murph are Ring nonsense.

I also was mildly suspicious of Alyssa so I’m glad Kingston checked her out.

The entire roast of Brennan when he’s selecting D6s is an instantly iconic D20 moment. I can’t do it justice. You kinda just have to see it.

“Someone call Wizards of the Coast!”

Em, Wally, and Alyssa go out when Titania puts out a huge spell that blinds Kug.

“Yummy, yummy, tastes like ass.”

On Misty’s next turn, she rolls a fail which makes it 2 failures to 1 success. Brennan mentions that a nat 1 counts as 2 failures and a nat 20 counts as 2 successes. I’m sure that won’t be relevant later because you can’t foreshadow things when dice rolls are completely random.

Misty fails on puppet again again and Titania goes full Wicked Witch of the West on her and starts Jonesing for those shoessss.

Emily’s Emily(tm) move of the session is doing a flying leap at Titania, hitting her with a stunning strike and having Brennan retract the Box off Doom he was pulling out because she can’t save when she’s stunned. She just plummets out of the sky.

Don Confetti respecting the sacrament of marriage as he goes full Opera ghost and tries to garrote Sophie.

Ricky (still naked) grabs the crown from Titania, tosses it to Misty, and, with some improv and a good charisma roll, makes the show suddenly make sense to the very confused but entertained audience.

I’m so glad that Murph decided to turn into a bear and that they made the Winter’s tale ref. I should have had faith in Brennan and Siobhan, the theater nerds. Exit pursued by a bear y’all.

Lou and Emily bonding over being proud of their die for rolling well when they lend it out for a big roll.

Really wish Pete had wild magic surged in this fight. Just to add that extra bit of chaos. 

With a very good turn (no damage taken, no performances failed) Misty only has to avoid snake eyes to get through this turn. She leapfrogs over that low bar and rolls a nat 20, instantly fulfilling her win condition. At this point, the play is superfluous and Titania is still down.

“Brennan lost and now he knows reddit is gonna eat his ass.”

OK, remember how I said earlier that Misty seems like the kind of character you nudge a little temptation at just to spice things up? Yeah, her killing Titania and getting the crown of the Seelie Fae makes me a liiiitle apprehensive, but we’ll see how that turns out.

“I killed my queen! This is America we don’t have royalty here.”

“Bear, I don’t know who you are, but take me on your back, let me ride on stage.” —creator of West Side Story, Stephen Sondheim

Misty charms the critic at the show to make sure they get a good review which is such a fae thing to do.

Kingston’s clearly not loving attacking Don and Co. post “real fight” what with his whole Do No Harm thing (well, that’s Dr’s but same principle applies I assume) is a good character detail. For that matter, so is Ricky just taking Titania’s crown and not beheading her which he super could have done while she was down but it would have been very incongruous with everything else about him.

Brian “This isn’t Loony Tunes” Murphy throws Sondheim as a projectile weapon at a pixie who snaps the pixie’s neck and then does a monologue at the audience.

I love it when someone rolls low on an insight check and Brennan gives them useless info and then they repeat it in their character’s voice.

4 mins from the end of the ep, Siobhan realizes there are two Perrys in this story for the first time and has a bigger reaction to that than almost everything else in this ep except her nat 20.

Ricky looks for costume faun legs to cover his fully out dick instead of costume pants or even his own pants.

Misty starts glowing with reincarnation energy and she runs into her dressing room for privacy. Also, she still super hasn’t told anyone what’s going on. (ALSO, assuming she’s gonna make the world think she died, it’s gonna be wild for the company of the show to have their leading lady put on the performance of her life and then die on opening night).

“Who am I to refuse a crown when it’s placed so deftly upon my head?”

You know that behind the scenes thing where Brennan is like, “Yeah, I knew Siobhan was gonna steal that book,”? I got some of those vibes during the crown scene.

The implications of what Misty did are gonna be left until next ep but Brennan says something about her creating her own court and it looks like she’s recruiting followers in the promo. IDK how I feel about that (these stories tend to have great power--especially tied to powerful magical items--as a corrupting force) but I am very excited to see how it goes down! See you then!

[thecarteradministration]

Calm in chaos. || January 5th, 2018.

It was another quiet night in, which meant there was another chance for him to delve further into his thoughts. A dangerous combination for him given the last couple months of his life. The days after a therapy session were always like that, though; lots of time where he’ll space out and find himself ruminating over what they spoke about the day or days prior. It was his chance to use the usual daunting quiet time to his advantage to calm the storm brewing between his ears as best he could. At least that’s what he would usually do in these times; can’t so much when the blonde-streaked head of his girlfriend was resting comfortably in his lap as they partook in some evening television watching.

He wasn’t opposed to it in actuality; hell, it was one of the things he’d find himself idly doing--playing with her hair when they were doing nothing but enjoying the presence of the other on a nice and calm evening. Preferred it, even. It was nice and allowed for him to tune out everything as though they were pure white noise and just focus on his thoughts with close to perfect equanimity. As tough as the previous month and a half had been on them, his relationship with Allysin was probably the most certain he felt about anything in his life.

As a shock to absolutely no one, Ethan flatout hated uncertainty. He hated the feeling of being stuck in a sort of mental purgatory whenever something in his life was in the air, up for interpretation because he couldn’t exactly be the deciding factor in his own fate. It was a human trait--possibly the most human trait he could share with other people--that forced him in a corner when he had to figure what was best for him. Which, funny enough, was a concept he had gladly implemented in his life 8 and a half months ago when he smashed a beer bottle over James Storm’s head to cost him the then-TNA World Heavyweight Championship.

...Ethan’s World Heavyweight Championship. A point of contention he deemed as a fact that hadn’t been lost on him since it was stolen from him two years ago. A title that had gone under a facelift and name change since Anthem took hold over the company and had since ousted Dixie from her post as czar of TNA/Impact. A title that Ethan was damn sure they would never, ever allow him anywhere near again. And because of that, he looked at Impact and saw something virtually unrecognizable to the point he was wholly unsure of his future.

That was the source of all his uncertainty; it wasn’t the same company it once was. Many of the men and women who had been in the company when he made his debut nearly five years ago were either gone or in the process of leaving and in their place were people he had minimal interaction with. Sure the regulars were there--Eddie, Moose, Trevor, Allysin, Allie, Rosemary somewhere in the shadows. Even Eli’s annoying candor that left Ethan feeling moribund after every interaction was there but he recognized that it was all dwindling. When the man he previously had a heated rivalry with, James Storm, leaves after fifteen years of devoted service, it makes him notice the landscape.

He wasn’t sure of much but he had the feeling that he wasn’t going to be able to ascend in the company like he previously did and it made him sick. It made him fill up with anger every time he thought about it. Anger he had since used to make thinly veiled comments about the three-headed dog that was currently battling over ownership while Ethan was given the task to be the flag bearer of the Grand Championship division--a prize that, under the strongest of truth serums (aka alcohol), he’d admit felt was a consolation prize made only to keep his mouth shut when he started talking about opportunities. It all made him circle back to what his therapist told him, in the most vague of manners.

Whatever decision you choose to make about this will be what’s best for you but you can’t worry about the reactions others have.

And that’s what he had been doing for the better part of the last 10 months. Unfortunately, everything he did had consequences and their own built in systems of karma attached. From breaking a beer bottle over Storm’s head, which led to him getting a shot at the title that was ultimately lost to Alberto to him volleying back and forth between Alexa and Chelsea that led to him ultimately getting left by the latter during their relationship to him forsaking the unspoken code of “don’t fuck your ex’s best friend and damn sure don’t get into a relationship with her” that led to his, Allysin, and Chelsea’s personal lives all being splattered for the world to comment on, everything he did for seemingly selfish reasons all led back to life knocking him back down a peg in favor of altruism. Life’s natural order of checks and balances had him keenly observant of what the aftereffects his actions might be on people around him.

It was that level of heightened self-awareness that made him cognizant of what questions would be asked of him if and when it came out that his contract status was, indeed, in flux. Something he had only shared with Layla and  Allysin, the latter of which he shared information at great length and detail with. It was a level of uncertainty that was quickly becoming chaotic with each passing day, to the point he found himself awake at night, lost in his own thoughts when he should be fast asleep, unable to shut his brain off enough to get a few more hours of sleep.

The inevitable was reaching his doorstep sooner than he would like. He did his best not to think about it, put all thoughts at bay so he could enjoy his time with Allysin and in retrospect, the last month they’ve had together in his house, just being a regular couple who did regular couple things helped him not acknowledge the one problem they both knew was facing him as soon as he got to the TV tapings. Among other things, the time they had spent together helped reassure him of the certainty he had with her; that he loved her more than he was willing to let on, which also meant whatever decision he made would’ve no doubt had an effect on her.

And so, he sat there, staring at the television screen, eyes blank, ears hearing nothing but white noise coming out of the speakers. An almost catatonic state of calmness that was only broken up by the feeling of a hand swatting him on the thigh to break his concentration.

“Ethan! Did you not hear me? Less scratching and more playing with my hair.”

Allysin’s voice broke him out of his train of thought, causing him to shake his head of the apparent cobwebs that were floating around. Lost in his own world, he seemingly forgot that he was petting Allysin’s hair and instead, his method went from petting to scratching her scalp because of it.

“Oh, shit; sorry.” He muttered in response, blinking hard as he snapped out of it, finally.

“You doin’ okay? You’ve been strangely quiet today. What’s going on up there?”

She had since sat up to look at him, her eyebrows furrowed in momentary concern as she looked to try and discern what his nonverbal cues meant. In the time they had been together, they had become aware of the little quirks and tells the other had when something was wrong or on their mind, like their bodies were telling on them when they didn’t really want to speak.

“Oh, nothin’. It’s...it’s nothing. Just me being stuck in my own head as per usual. Don’t mind me.”

“Yeah? You...do you wanna talk about it?”

“Nah, not right now. Not tonight anyway.”

And there the conversation went, the door closed almost all the way except for a small crack as he pulled her in so she could rest her head on his shoulder. Wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk to her about the it--he did. She was probably the one person he could talk to about this without feeling like someone was going to use it against him. His reason for not wanting to talk about it were that he didn’t want to burden her with his issues, knowing the amount of cumulative stress she had gathered on her shoulders over the last few months. In reality? The person he was protecting from this conversation was himself.

And that? That was what caused him to shy away from all the chaos. Because if he couldn’t save himself from that uncomfortable conversation, then the next best thing was to save the woman he loves. At least that’s what he’s telling himself.

[kingdomstroops]

Understanding The Helmet Of Salvation

UNDERSTANDING THE HELMET OF SALVATION

Before we dig into the helmet of salvation, we need to understand the purpose of the armor of God.  Every day you encounter temptations, trials, situations, and circumstances that test your faith in God. The good news is that God never asked you to face these battles alone. In Ephesians 6:10-18, the “armor of God” is presented as one of the keys to victorious Christian living. There are six pieces of spiritual armor that we can wear to withstand and overcome the attacks of the enemy.A Quick Look at the Armor of God Belt of Truth: The belt holds all of the pieces of armor in place. The truth of God’s Word serves as the foundation of faith in Jesus Christ. Because the Bible is true and never changes, we can depend on what it says. Breastplate of Righteousness: The armored breastplate protects some of the most vital organs in your body, including the heart. In your walk with the Lord, being righteous, or living a God-honoring life, is only possible with God’s help. You can only be righteous because of what Jesus accomplished on the cross. That righteousness protects your heart from sin and helps you to live for God from the very core of your being. Shoes of the Gospel: The good news of Jesus and His gift of salvation is referred to as the “Gospel.” As believers, God’s Word directs your steps and leads you to live a holy life, as Jesus lived. We are commanded and compelled to share the Gospel everywhere we go. (Mark 16:15) Shield of Faith: In Roman times, a shield was used to deflect anything that was used to attack a soldier. It was held out in front of their bodies and protected them from whatever was intended to cause them harm. Whenever a soldier dropped their shield, they became vulnerable to attacks. Strong faith in God can protect you from fear and doubt that can make you vulnerable to attacks from the enemy, the devil. Sword of the Spirit: A sharp sword can pierce just about any object. The Word of God is powerful and can cut through even to the hardest of hearts and keep the enemy at a distance. Let's take a more in-depth look at the final piece of armor mentioned in Ephesians 6 – The Helmet of Salvation.What is the Helmet of Salvation?  And take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God. ~ Ephesians 6:17 The function of a helmet is to protect the head and, more importantly, your brain from injury. The human brain controls movement, the function of vital organs, and memory and speech. It also controls your thoughts. If your brain is damaged, it affects your entire body. Severe injury to your brain can impact your mobility, stop organ function or even lead to death. Helmets are a priority for construction workers, cyclists, and athletes because they drastically decrease impact injuries to the head and brain. In battle, a soldier would be at a severe disadvantage without a helmet. In Roman times, the enemy would first attack a soldier’s head. Because the brain controls decision making and reaction time, they could gain an advantage if they were able to injure the soldier’s head and cause them to enter a state of confusion. The devil operates similarly in your life. If you are confused or feel unstable in your relationship with God, then you are more vulnerable to his attacks.The Purpose of the Helmet of Salvation  But since we are of the day, let us be sober, having put on the breastplate of faith and love, and as a helmet, the hope of salvation ~ 1 Thessalonians 5:8 This verse reminds you to "be sober" or sensible in putting on your spiritual armor. When you wear the helmet of salvation, you are making a conscious effort to ward off fear and doubt, by allowing God to protect your minds. You are putting your hope in the confidence you have gained from accepting Jesus as the Lord of your life. No longer are you left utterly vulnerable to attacks. Instead, God provides all of the protection you need to feel secure in times of spiritual battle.Believers and the Helmet of Salvation  The helmet of salvation is only available to believers. Why? Because someone who does not trust in the saving grace of Jesus, would not want God to protect them from anything. Unbelievers inadvertently, or purposefully, decide to face life's battles on their own. As a believer, you can have complete confidence in the eternal salvation you have received from the effects of sin and death. It’s not dependent on what you do or say, but on God’s perfect grace. You might fail, but God never will. When you face tough situations, you can put your hope in God and be at peace in your mind. It’s not uncommon for attacks from the devil to hit you at times when you should be at peace. If you lay down at night and your mind races with thoughts of worry and dismay, you need to rest in the fact that God is always with you. He can handle anything that comes your way. If you are in the midst of celebration and joy, but suddenly feel scared and troubled, remind yourself that God is guarding your mind. In order for fear to affect you, it has to pass by God first. Allow yourself to rest in God’s infinite love for you.Wearing the Helmet of Salvation In the Book of Isaiah, we read about a time when the Lord Himself fought against His enemies to protect His people and gain victory.  He put on righteousness like a breastplate, and a helmet of salvation on His head; and He put on garments of vengeance for clothing and wrapped Himself with zeal as a mantle. ~ Isaiah 59:17 God had given the Israelites numerous opportunities to turn from their sin and turn back to Him. But when asked, not one person offered to step forward for the Lord. So, God Himself stepped forward. This scripture says God “put on” the pieces of armor, including the helmet of salvation. There is a direct correlation between the armor of God you read about in Ephesians 6 and the armor mentioned here in Isaiah. When Paul refers to the whole armor of God, he is referring to God’s actual armor – it’s belongs to God. As a believer, you have permission to wear His armor. This passage in Isaiah is also a reminder that God is not dependent on man. He always desires to work through the life of a believer, but if you don't step up, then He will step in.Protecting Your Mind from the Enemy God knows every thought you have ever had or will ever have. Sometimes your thoughts lead you away from God, and other times they draw you closer to Him. It's always your choice. No one, including the enemy, can make you think anything. The helmet of salvation protects your mind from the attacks of the enemy and helps you live victoriously every day. The battle always begins in your mind before it becomes an action. In 2 Corinthians 10:5, we read, “We are destroying speculations and every lofty thing raised up against the knowledge of God, and we are taking every thought captive to the obedience of Christ…” When you focus your mind and heart on holy things, you are putting them under the Lordship of Christ. As a follower of Jesus, your goal is to become more like Christ. Every action reflects whether you are modeling His character or following your own will. When you surrender your life to Christ, you allow Him to be in control instead of choosing your own ways. The goal is to honor God in your mind, as well as in your actions. You can't control whether or not you have an individual thought, but you can choose to quash it and keep it from moving into your heart. In that way, you are “taking every thought captive.” It’s the difference between being ruled by your thoughts, or causing them to submit to the Ruler of your life.Examining the Motives of Your Thoughts For as he thinks within himself, so he is.(Proverbs 23:7) Every thought has value. As a human being, you are not smart enough to control your mind. You need the help of the Holy Spirit. He can provide the strength and power you need to run every thought through the filter of God’s holiness. The Holy Spirit can also reveal what is at the root of your thoughts. Here are a few questions to help you determine whether your thoughts are affecting your walk with God in a positive or negative way. Are these thoughts godly? Are they influenced by the world? Do these thoughts lead me closer or further away from God? Does the surrender of these thoughts provide an opportunity to grow in my relationship with God? As a follower of Jesus, you are called to live separate from worldly desires that pull you away from God. You should continuously be in the process of developing the mind of Christ. (Philippians 2:5) In times of battle, the enemy doesn't want to hurt a soldier; he wants to destroy them. The enemy of your heart wants you to doubt your salvation and tempt you to live in your own strength. Until you completely surrender your mind to God, you will continue to struggle in your thought life.

The Hope of Salvation 

Romans 6:14 says, For sin shall not be master over you, for you are not under law but under grace.  A helmet only protects your head; that's why it's essential to put on the entire armor of God. Your mind is protected by the assurance that God's grace has saved you. No longer will you face God's judgment for your sin, but instead, you will receive mercy because of Jesus' sacrifice on the cross. You have the opportunity to put on the whole armor of God and rest in the hope of salvation that protects your mind and helps you live a godly life. Read the full article

[joeybelle]

Starlight - Chapter 14

Relationship: Cassian Andor x Original Female Character

Rating: Mature

Tags: Pre-Rogue One, Romance, Adventure, Canon Compliant Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Foul Language, Explicit Content :)

Samarkand is from now on under Imperial protection. Please stay calm.”  

“Why are there Imperial ships on Samarkand?” Cora asked, her back against a wall, Cassian’s body protectively shielding her.

“Remain non-violent and no one will be harmed.”  

“I don’t know,” he said in a low voice, watching the people in the streets scurry for cover. Blaster shots could be heard in the distance, making the hair raise on the back of her neck. “We have to get out of here fast.”

“Please take shelter until the Imperial troops have secured the perimeter.” 

He grabbed her arm and guided her away from the crowd, walking as fast as they could through the narrow lateral streets. This was a side of Samarkand Cora hadn’t seen until now. If the rest of it looked shabby, the back alleys were positively filthy. They had to be careful not to walk into the piles of trash that just lied on the pavement or get bitten by vermin. When Cassian decided they were far enough, they hid under a low balcony and he took out the com-link, contacting K-2SO.

 "There seem to be a lot more stormtroopers than any of us anticipated,” came the droid’s mechanical voice.

“Did they take over the spaceport?” Cassian asked, hastily. “Can we still leave the planet?”

“Probably. If you were here, we could leave right now,” he said in what Cora could recognize as being a condescending tone. “They seem to concentrate their efforts on taking on the streets. But who knows for how long.”

“That’s good. Keep the engines running, we’re coming to you.” He seemed to want to turn off the com, but then changed his mind. “If we’re not back in one hour,” he added, “leave without us.”

 “I’m not leaving without you,” the droid scoffed.

“If we’re not back in one hour, take off without us,” he repeated, more convincing this time. “We can hide until they send someone after us.”

 “The odds of surviving in case of…”

“Do as I say!” he barked and turned off the com.

“Do you think we’ll make it in time?” Cora asked, hoping her voice wasn’t shaking. She was just starting to get scared. It all changed so fast, her brain didn’t get the chance to fully process the situation until now.

“Yeah, we will.” He tried reassuring her with a smile, but despite that, she could still see his face clouded by worry. “But we have to move fast.”

They took off in a hurried pace, taking only the most secluded alleys, avoiding to go out in the open. They kept quiet, often listening for the the sounds of battle and taking a detour if it seemed like their path would lead them directly to it. When they hit a dead end, they climbed on the roof of a small building.

The city looked desolating. While just a few hours earlier the streets were brimming of life, now they were deserted. The shops had been closed and the colourful stalls full of merchandise were nowhere to be seen. The neon ads that lit the streets at night had been turned off, leaving the city bleak and grey. Only closed doors and barred windows everywhere. In the pale light of morning, the city looked dead.

They kept walking on the roofs for as long as the terrain allowed them. She had no idea where they were, so she trusted Cassian to bring them to their destination. Once again she realized that she was useless in this war they were fighting. Without him, she would have probably cowered in fear and died in an alley sooner or later, unable to fend for herself. The blaster felt heavy on her hip.

“Get down!” Cassian urged, pulling her behind a parapet. He fished a pair of macrobinoculars out of his backpack and sneaked a peak over the wall. Cora waited silently until he let her look too.

In one of the main streets there was a fight taking place between stormtroopers and a group of people dressed in dark grey. From what she could see, their clothes didn’t have any military insignia on them. “Who are they?” she asked, handing the binoculars back to Cassian.

“They’re the local militia,” he explained. “The planet’s unofficially ruled by a smugglers’ guild, but they have all the actual power. There’s no military force, or any other line of defence besides this militia.”

“Do you think they’ll be able to resist the attack?”

“I doubt it,” he said, zipping up his backpack. “Let’s go.”

They climbed off the building and took another detour. Whichever direction they went in, they seemed to always be just one step away from getting into a fight. Cassian’s hand never really left the blaster, being prepared to retaliate at any sign of danger. Fortunately, and this was only thanks to him, they didn’t run into any stormtroopers.

When the spaceport finally came into view, Cora allowed herself a sigh of relief. She could see ships taking off and leaving the planet, so she felt like they’d made it. The sound of an explosion made her realize that she had relaxed too soon.

“K! K!” Cassian yelled over the com, as they were running towards the spaceport. There were no stormtroopers in sight, so they risked going in the open.

 “They seemed to have changed their mind about the spaceport once someone blew up one of their transport shuttles,” K replied, a bit too calmly.

“Are you alright? Are they attacking the ships?” Cassian asked.

“The ship is fine. They’re currently engaged in a fight with a bunch of smugglers and seem to take on anything that moves, but don’t attack the ships directly,” he said. “But I guess that isn’t so good for you. Do you want me to cause a distraction?”

“No! You stay on the ship and wait for us!” he barked, before turning off the com.

Cassian readied his blaster, so Cora did the same, even though she doubted she’d be of any use. She feared she’d only be a burden to him, but he looked at her gave her an encouraging smile. “It’s not that big of a deal,” he tried reassuring her. “We just have to stay outside of their firing range and move as silently as possible. It’s worked for us until now,” he smiled.

“Well, I hope you’ll be just as lucky from now on,” she smiled back, but only for a second, as worry took its place.

“What makes you think I’m the lucky one?”

“You don’t think it’s me?”

“Why not?” he shrugged. “We have to get going,” he said, his smile vanishing in the blink of an eye. He was Captain Andor once again. “Stay behind me, but try not to fall too far behind,” he instructed. “If I tell you to duck, you duck. If I tell you to run, you run. If I tell you to run to the ship and leave me behind, you do that, understood?”

Cora didn’t like where this was going. She tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but her mouth was dry. He was asking her to leave him behind if anything happened and save herself, but she knew she couldn’t do that. She couldn’t just leave him if he was injured. It was her duty as a doctor to never abandon someone in need of help.

“Understood?” He must have noticed her avoiding the question, so he insisted. Eventually she nodded. It was easier to lie when she didn’t open her mouth. “Good. Listen to me and everything will be alright.” But she was afraid.

She followed him, the blaster in her hands, her heart somewhere in Limbo. She could hear the shots and the explosions becoming louder and louder but she kept repeating to herself that she had Cassian, so everything was going to be alright. She had fought space pirates a while back and lived to tell the tale, so she was probably gonna make it this time too.

Once they entered the spaceport, they took the most roundabout way towards the ship. They stayed as far as possible from the fight, walking in the shadows, hiding behind the ships that still remained docked. Cora kept her eyes down. She didn’t want to see all the people who were being wounded that she couldn’t help. She just wanted to leave the planet already, and she was blaming herself for delaying the takeoff so much because she selfishly wanted to spend time with Cassian.

Their tactic of crossing the spaceport unseen would have worked if it weren’t for the AT-ST that joined the battle and started shooting at the docked ships. If until then the smugglers seemed to have a slight advantage, with the addition of the Scout Walker, the tables seemed to have turned.

With their cover literally blown to pieces, they had no other choice but to run in the open. Cassian was shooting while he was running, trying to stay between the blasters and Cora, dragging her along when she was falling behind.

The U-Wing was getting closer and closer, and Cora hoped that they would make it. The ship had the engines already running and the lateral door was open, so the only thing they needed to do was to reach it and they were out of there. Or at least, it would become Cassian’s job to bring them out of there.

But a stray blaster shot hit her back. The pain was white and searing hot, burning and seeping into her bones. For a moment she lost consciousness, waking up on the stone floor, with Cassian running back to her. She wanted to scream and tell him to go, to leave without her. But she had no power to do it. Her vision was blurry. She didn’t want him to leave either, she didn’t want to die alone.

“It’s alright, it’s ok,” he hummed in her ear, holding her by the shoulders and helping her in a sitting position. He looked at her wound and Cora could see the colour drain from his face. “It doesn’t look that deep. Can you feel your legs?” he asked, and Cora wondered how bad it actually was. The adrenaline rush had taken over and she didn’t feel that much pain.

She tried moving her legs and was relieved to notice that she could. She smiled at Cassian. It meant that her spine wasn’t affected, or at least, it wasn’t that badly affected. She tried standing up, holding onto his shoulders for support, but her legs felt like jelly. He helped her out of the firing line, placing her down behind the smoking body of a ship. She could feel the blood slowly dripping.

“Do we still have time to get to the ship?” she asked, her voice weak, still clinging to his jacket.

He looked around. “Yeah,” he said, but didn’t sound too convincing. “We could…” The AT-ST came into view, shooting at another row of docked ships, getting dangerously close to their U-Wing. He looked at the ship, then looked at Cora and took the com out.

“K! Take off! Leave now!” he yelled. “K!”

“The AT-ST is getting closer, but you could still make it if you hurry,” K said.

“We can’t make it. Leave without us!” The AT-ST turned his attention to the ship closest to their U-Wing and fired. “Leave already!” he yelled in the com, and Cora saw the ship finally take off without them. It narrowly avoided the shots fired by the walker, but in the end it left unscattered.

“We have to get out of here and find a safe place. Can you walk?” he asked, his hands back on her shoulders.

“I think so,” she said, trying to get herself together.

“Ok, get ready,” he said, and fished a flash grenade out of the backpack. He set it on a timer and threw it.

He helped her up before the grenade detonated, placing one of her arms around his neck for support. He held her close, careful not to touch the wounded area, and guided her away from the fight. When the grenade exploded making a loud noise and lighting the room up, they used the ensuing chaos to slip out of the spaceport unseen.

Back on one of the deserted alleys, they found a hidden spot to rest a little. Now that the initial shock had died down, she realized that her injury wasn’t that bad. Yeah, it hurt like hell and it was still bleeding, but the quantity of blood wasn’t significant and the pain was superficial. It was probably just a graze, but it had incapacitated her at a crucial moment. Cassian had walked around for hours with broken ribs and a gushing wound and it didn’t stop him.

“Give me an emergency patch,” she told him, awkwardly twisting and shoving a hand under her clothes, trying to at least feel the wound if she couldn’t see it. “I need to stop the bleeding.”

“What are you doing?” he asked, slapping her hand away from the wound. Her hand returned smeared in blood.

“I need to know what’s going on,” she whined, but he hoisted her up once again.

“I’m gonna patch you up, but we can’t do that here,” he said, and Cora noticed a little tremble in his voice. “We’re too exposed. I know a place, do you think you can walk?”

“Yeah.” Now that the blasters weren’t shooting around her head, she was feeling a lot calmer. “Let’s hurry.”

They started walking again, this time a lot slower than before, with Cora’s injury holding them back, but they were still leaving the spaceport behind pretty fast. Cassian wasn’t looking as self-contained as he did just a while back. He was paler than usual, and kept looking at Cora as if expecting her to just fall down and die any moment. His hand never left her back, even though she didn’t need his help holding her up anymore.

They reached a building that looked deserted, with broken windows and no door. It looked even more deplorable than the rest of the buildings, if that was even possible. What confused her, she noticed, was that this was the only building she’d seen until now that was completely deserted.

“Space is very valuable here on Samarkand,” Cassian explained, as they took the stairs up to the attic. “So not that many places are abandoned.”

“So what’s wrong with this one?” she asked, curious.

“It’s haunted.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“I’m not. People here are surprisingly superstitious,” he laughed. “Right now, that works in our favour.”

He picked the lock on the attic door in mere seconds. The room was in a much better condition than the rest of the building: it was relatively clean and dry and it had intact windows. A mattress on the floor indicated that someone was crashing there occasionally. She assumed it was Cassian.

He closed the door behind them and dragged the mattress to the middle of the room, asking Cora to sit down. He looked outside the window for a brief moment, probably to make sure that no one had followed them, then took out the medipack.

Taking off her clothes took a little effort and a lot of help from Cassian, but he didn’t seem to mind. Left only in her bra, the cool air hitting her skin made her shiver. Her top was bloodstained, and the jacket, her precious jacket, had a hole in it.

She tried once again to touch the wound when she thought Cassian wasn’t paying attention, but he stopped her. She snorted, frustrated. She hated not knowing how bad it was.

“I’ll patch you up,” he said, taking a seat behind her. He took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves.

“How bad is it?” she asked, trying to look over her shoulder. When she couldn’t see anything, she instinctively tried to reach for the wound again, but Cassian grabbed her hand and placed it back in her lap, holding it there. She could feel his shirt brushing the skin on her shoulder, and it made her hyper aware that she was almost half naked in front of him. “Cassian,” she groaned.

“I’ve already told you, it’s not a big deal,” he said, running his thumb over her fingers. “Don’t you trust me to do this?”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you…” she mumbled. “It’s just that I hate not being able to do it myself. It makes me feel helpless.”

He let go of her hand, opened the medipack and started cleaning the wound and the blood around it. “Well, you have no choice but to let me do it this time,” he said. “You’ll have the pleasure to assess my first aid knowledge, since you once accused me of knowing nothing.”

“That’s all your fault for not knowing that emergency stitching is just that: emergency stitching,” she scolded. “By the way, how did you imagine you’d heal without any medical help?”

“I’ve survived worse,” he said, and then concentrated on her injury. “You’re really lucky. I’m not a doctor, but it doesn’t look deep at all. You’ll be needing stitches, and it’s probably going to scar, but you’ll be fine.”

“I don’t understand how being shot by a blaster counts as being lucky?”

He chuckled. “A few centimeters deeper and it would have hit your spine. That’s really just a matter of the angle of the shot. If they held the blaster just one centimeter to the left…”

“You’re not helping!” she laughed. “Just shut up and disinfect it. I’m gonna get stitches when we get back.” If we ever get back, she thought.

“Don’t you want me to stitch it?” he asked, and Cora couldn’t tell by his tone if he really intended to do that or he was just joking.

“No, Captain. I trust you with the blaster, but I really don’t trust you with that needle,” she said. “Just disinfect it, smear it in bacta and put a patch on it and I’m good. The disinfectant is the purple bottle, by the way,” she instructed, pointing at the medipack.

“Cora,” he said, stopping whatever he was doing, “I got this. I’ve done it a million times before.”

“I know, I’m just… micromanaging,” she said, looking at her fingernails. There were still traces of blood on her hands.  

“Alright then, would you like passing me the disinfectant?” he said.

Cora took the medipack and handed him the bottle over her shoulder. She felt a little more in control now that she had the first aid kit in her hands. She felt like she was actively doing something, as opposed to just waiting for him to finish, and that eased her anxiety a little.

“Is this your first blaster wound?” he asked, as she hissed from the burning sensation given by the disinfectant.

“No, I shot myself in the leg once before,” she laughed at the memory. “But I guess this is the first one that isn’t self inflicted and completely accidental. My first real battle scar.” It sounded awesome until she realized one thing. “I’ll look like shit in a bikini!”

He laughed. “I doubt it.”

“Is that a compliment, Captain?” she asked, smiling cheekily at him over her shoulder.

“Maybe?”

He worked fast and clean. Even though she couldn’t see what he was doing, and after he administered the local anesthetic she couldn’t feel anything either, she knew he didn’t lie about doing this plenty of times before just to make her feel better. She could sense it in the way he moved, it was muscle memory. She still told him what to do, even though it was clear that he didn’t need the instructions.

“Now press on it tightly, and hold until it seals,” she said, as he placed the waterproof patch over her wound. She sighed, relieved. They had done everything that could be done so now her brain was at peace. Somewhat. She had other things to worry about. Like the fact that they may not leave the planet soon (or ever). Or that she could feel his fingers pressing into the skin above the patch, reminding her how his hands once roamed freely under her clothes.

He seemed to remember the same thing, because she could feel his fingers inching upwards, idly caressing her skin. Even though the contact between them was minimal, she still felt enveloped by his warmth. One finger was brushing against her spine as his hands traveled towards her shoulders, giving her goosebumps. She leaned into his touch, but it was a mistake, because he seemed to realize what he was doing and took his hands away.

“Umm…” he muttered, shifting away from her. “You’re all done.”

“Thanks,” she said, pulling the bloodstained shirt over her head. It was a little gross and definitely unhygienic, but she had no other choice. She was supposed to be a badass smuggler who shouldn’t be queasy. She grabbed her jacket and sighed, poking a whole hand through the charred hole in the fabric. “I really liked this jacket,” she complained, before putting it on.

“I think we can get you another one, if you’d like.”

“I don’t think General Draven would give me one for free, as a reward for getting shot on a mission…” she shrugged.

“Probably not,” he laughed. “But we can ask the guys in Storage. If we ask them nicely…”

They both jumped at the piercing sound made by the com. Cassian hurried to turn it on.

“The situation on Samarkand seems to become increasingly unstable,” came K2’s voice from the small device. “I see more and more locals organize into groups and start to retaliate. I’d advise you to leave immediately. I’ll be waiting for you at the old spaceport up north. It’s currently pretty silent here.”

“I thought I told you to leave without us,” he shouted into the com.

“I did exactly as you told me,” the droid said, calmly. “You told me to leave, you didn’t tell me to leave the planet and go back to base.”

“Semantics,” he growled.

“Very important. You wouldn’t want to be misunderstood.” Cora couldn’t help but smile at the cheekiness. “Anyway, I’d advise you to hurry. Ours isn’t the only ship docked here.”

Cassian seemed to think about it for a minute, the lines between his brows deepening. He got up and looked out the window, silently assessing the situation. “Give us two hours,” he finally said. “If we can’t reach your location in two hours, leave without us. And this time, you leave the planet and go back to base, no tricks. Understood?”

 “Understood,” the droid agreed, and the line went dead.

It seemed there was still hope for them. As long as Cassian was with her she wasn’t that afraid, but she still felt like this whole situation could have been avoided if she hadn’t insisted to spend more time on the planet. She was making things difficult for him, so she just wanted to go back to base and call it a day. She was sure that General Draven would yell at her for the rest of her life, but she took responsibility for that.

Cassian had taken out the macrobinoculars and was looking out the window. “I see two sets of stormtroopers patrolling. I think we’ll lay low for a while. I don’t think we should risk getting into a fight.”

“Do you think they’ll let us leave?” she finally asked what had been bothering her for a while now. “I assume they have a star destroyer up there and TIE fighters. Do you think they’d let us just leave the planet and go into hyperspace?”

“Yeah, they will,” he said, and seemed quite certain of it.

“What makes you so sure of that?”

“I assume they want to take control of the planet, not wipe it out, otherwise they would have used a different tactic,” he explained. “Most of the people you saw on the streets today aren’t locals, just like us. It would make no sense to just imprison them all. Most of them are rich citizens of the Empire that just came here to have a little fun. Yes, most of the businesses on Samarkand are illegal, but it would bring the Empire a good deal of money if they were under their protection.”

“So they’ll just let them go in the hopes that when they come back and spend more money, but in this case, the taxes would go to the Empire?”

“Yeah,” he said. “It’s a good business. Besides, I don’t think there are enough stormtroopers in the city to fight them all right now. They can be very dangerous people and who knows what illegal weapons they’re hiding on their ships. If they all took up arms, there wouldn’t be much of an invasion. The stormtroopers just scare them off and let them leave, so they only have to deal with the locals and the militia.”

“So why don’t they?”

“What don’t they what? Fight back?”

“Yeah, why doesn’t everyone just fight the Empire if they hate it so much? This is the perfect opportunity to fight it.”

He looked at her and smiled. “Is the Rebellion finally getting to you, Doctor?”

“Oh, shut up.”

“You’ll soon become more dedicated to the cause than General Draven,” he joked, and Cora glared at him. “First of all, they would need someone to organize them,” he said, taking a seat besides her on the mattress. “Right now, they’re just a bunch of people, each with their own agenda. For them to work together, you’d have to offer them something big enough for them to risk their lives for. Most of them live well enough in the middle of the Empire, there’s no reason to fight it. Plus, they probably hate each other, so you’d have to convince them to put aside their differences and work together, and you won’t be able to do that today, in just a few hours.”

“Yeah, I guess,” she replied, thoughtful.

“You could still try to do it,” he laughed. “Cora, Defender of Samarkand. It has a nice ring to it.”

“I’m not sure they’d listen to someone with my pedigree,” she shrugged. “You do it.”

“I don’t think they’d listen to me either. Not really the hero type,” he said. “But even if they did, and let’s say we got them all to work together and we stopped this invasion, it would be a wasted effort on the long run.”

Cora raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“They’d only send a bigger fleet next time and wipe the whole planet out. We’d win a battle, but in the end we’d lose the war.”

“So what do we do then? We just let them take over, one planet at a time until there’s nothing left?”

“No, that’s why the Rebel Alliance exists,” he said, getting up and moving to look out the window once again. “We fight the Empire and we actually do some damage. Instead of fighting back now and risking to be completely wiped out, Samarkand can help the Rebellion and sabotage them from the inside. One planet as tiny as this one can’t fight the Empire on its own, but it can help us face this common enemy and win in the end.”

Cora couldn’t help but smile. He looked so full of passion when he spoke about the cause. There was a fire in his eyes that burned brighter than what she’d seen before. There was hope, and there was determination. Now she understood why he hated her so much in the beginning. It probably wasn’t personal, he just hated what she represented.

“Well, Captain, I think I now know why you can’t get a girl,” she laughed.

“And why is that?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest, pretending to be seriously interested in what she was about to say.

“You’re in love with the Rebellion,” she said, getting up and stretching her legs. Her back wasn’t hurting anymore, but the sensation of numbness was strange. Still, it didn’t bother her when she walked.

He smiled, but it was a sad smile, and Cora realized she might have made a mistake with her joke. “You may be right this time,” he said, and went back to looking out the window.

She joined him by the window, looking at the depressing city. “It’s not a bad thing, you know,” she said. “Being passionate about what you do. We wouldn’t be having a rebellion if there weren’t people who really loved the cause.” She smiled. “Do you think we can win?”

“Maybe, one day. But not today. Today we have to survive.”

They looked out the window for a while, Cassian actually scouting the city, while Cora was just lost in her thoughts. She realized that she had been really selfish. She didn’t leave the Empire because she wanted the world to be a better place, she just wanted to be free and safe. The world could have gone to hell for all she cared, if her tiny little world remained unshaken. But there were people like Cassian who were sacrificing the quality of their lives to fight for people who they didn’t even know. Who were in this fight because they made a choice, who could leave any time but every day, they chose to stay and keep fighting, because they hoped for a better future for everyone.

She looked at her bracelets and wondered, if tomorrow they took them off, would she leave? Would she still be here, with Cassian, trapped on a planet that was slowly being taken over by stormtroopers, if she had the opportunity to just get away and live peacefully someplace else? She liked to think she would. Maybe she didn’t care that much about the Rebellion, or about the world, but she cared about him. So she decided she was going to stay, no matter what happened next, because the Alliance was important to him and he meant a lot to her.

“I think we can go now,” he said, breaking her train of thought. “They seem to have left the area. Are you feeling up for it?” he asked, and Cora nodded. “We can stay here for a while and wait for a rescue team to come pick us up if you’re not feeling ok.”

“Stop coddling me, Cassian, I’m ok.”

“Just making sure,” he said, gathering the rest of their stuff and shoving it back in the backpack.

The streets were silent, but the air felt tense. She could see where fights had taken place, like burn marks scattered throughout the city. Occasionally she could see the brief, fearful gazes from behind the curtains of the people who had made Samarkand their home. It might have been filthy and depressing, but for some this was the only place they had ever called ‘home’. And now they could be close to losing that, because greed was stronger than compassion in the Empire.

With her back numb and adequately patched Cora could move a lot faster than before and Cassian didn’t have to keep an eye on her anymore. However, she still caught him throwing her quick glances from time to time. For someone who treated all his injuries, even the more severe ones, like they were nothing serious, he certainly seemed to worry about the graze on her back. He probably considered her quite incompetent for getting injured so stupidly, and she hadn’t proved him wrong until now, but she also felt like he was genuinely worried about her.

They reached the old spaceport without any incidents. Most of the troops seemed to be concentrated in the center of the city, where the smugglers’ guild had their headquarters, so the streets were rather calm. The spaceport, if you could call it so, was just an open space surrounded by tall walls that looked ready to break down at any moment. Safety wasn’t something that Samarkand inspired, but this was a special kind of safety hazard.

They kept a safe distance and contacted K. He had the ship on the far side of the spaceport, meaning they would have to cross it all to get there. Not surprising at all, there were also other ships docked there, some of which could be a little hostile, Cassian concluded. No stormtroopers were in sight, though.

“So… do me make a run for it?” Cora suggested. “100-meter dash?”

Cassian laughed. “I don’t think that’s the best tactic.”

“It’s the fastest,” she shrugged. “We either reach the ship or we die. Either way, it’s gonna be fast.”

He raised an eyebrow at her, then smiled and shook his head. “Do you have a death wish, Doctor?”

“Not a very well defined one,” she joked, but he didn’t smile this time, listening intently.

“We may actually have to follow your suggestion,” he said, his face serious. “Something’s coming.”

Cora listened, but didn’t hear anything that hinted that there was a battle going on. However, she was going to trust Cassian on this. She was sure he had better hearing than her, or maybe even a sixth sense. He readied his weapon so she did the same, and started advancing towards the spaceport.

They quickened the pace when they reached the gates, a deep thudding sound becoming louder and louder. Before they even knew it, they were surrounded by a bunch of raggedy looking people, running for their lives.

“Run, you two!” one of them yelled, passing them.

“Shit!” Cassian swore and started running, Cora following closely looking over her shoulder from time to time.

The thudding suddenly materialized into the shape of an AT-ST that was apparently following the others. And now, them too, since they were all running in the same direction.

“Fuuuuck!” Cora screamed, trying to run faster. There was nowhere to hide. Besides the few ships awaiting their owners, there was no place to hide.

They ran in zig-zag, trying to avoid the walker’s laser cannons. Cassian and a couple of others kept shooting back, and occasionally threw a grenade at it, but Cora focused on running. When she had joined med school she thought she was done with running for good, but here she was, hoping she wouldn’t trip and get crushed under the walker’s feet.

The AT-ST was catching up fast, especially since the terrain was working in its favour, and Cora could see its shadow almost covering her. The others had scattered, or had been shot, she didn’t pay attention, so the walker was left chasing her and Cassian. However, they had somehow managed to disable one of its cannons, and damage the other one, but even with the decreased accuracy it was still so close to blowing them to pieces.

Cora’s heart was beating a million times a minute and her lungs felt like they were on fire, but she kept running. She knew that if she stopped, she’d be dead. The only thing that kept her alive was Cassian who was pulling her towards one of the grounded ships. She hoped it would shield them until they found a way to take the walker down. She tried remembering how they dealt with situations like this while she was in stormtrooper training, but she couldn’t recall any scenario in which two people, very lightly armed and armoured, were chased by a nine meter tall war machine.

They were close to the ship, just a few meters away, when she heard a loud bang. She turned her head just in time to see the AT-ST falling towards them. She didn’t have time to react, but Cassian grabbed her by the jacket and threw her forward, under the hull of the ship. She fell down, her legs not working anymore.

Fortunately Cassian had enough time to throw himself besides Cora, before the walker fell over the ship, the crashing sound almost deafening. He grabbed Cora and pulled her under him, shielding her as much as he could. She knew that if the ship gave in it would crush them both under its weight, but it was comforting having Cassian close. At least she wouldn’t die alone. She put her hands around his neck and pulled him closer.

Surrounded by the the ear-shattering noise, in a state of detachment from what was going on around her, Cora had no idea if she was dying or not. Only when the noise ceased and she felt a foul smelling liquid dripping all over her did she have the courage to open her eyes. Jet fuel, she noticed, probably mixed with engine oil by the colour. She turned her head before it got into her eyes.

“Are you alright?” Cassian whispered in her ear. She didn’t even try to speak, so she just nodded. “Are you hurt?” he asked again, and she shook her head after wiggling her legs a little to make sure they were still in place.

“You?” she whispered, her voice small and shaky, arms still around his neck.

“I’m ok.” His body relaxed, letting Cora support all his weight for a brief moment, before propping himself on his elbows and looking around. “We have to get out of here before it crushes us.”

The ship had sustained a lot of damage, but even if one of the landing skids had given way under the force of the impact, the other one was still holding, saving both their lives. They scrambled to get out from under it while it was still standing, managing to get drenched in fuel and covered in dust, probably also bruising their elbows and knees. They were alive.

The U-Wing was waiting for them behind the fallen scout walker, K-2 hurrying towards them.

“That was a really close call,” he said, in a deeply disapproving tone.

“Thanks for saving our skin,” Cassian said, breathing a sigh of relief.

“Well, someone had to do it.”

“I guess we should hurry,” Cora suggested, pointing towards a squad of stormtroopers who were just entering the spaceport gates.

“Shit!” Cassian cursed and urged them to the ship.

They took off before the stormtroopers had the time to reach them, and Cora could finally breathe freely. Somewhat. She had jet fuel in her nostrils and it was burning. Actually, the chemicals irritated her skin and made it itch. She hoped the patch on her back was still holding, because she really didn’t want to know what jet fuel would do on an open wound.

“K, make the hyperspace jump as fast as you find a safe route. It doesn’t matter where to, just take us out of here,” he said, looking out the viewport at the star destroyer looming over Samarkand. It was the smaller, Victory-class destroyer, so Cora knew the Empire didn’t go all out on this mission. No one seemed to notice (or care), that they had left the planet. They weren’t the only ones anyway, as she could see other ships going into hyperspace. “We have to take a shower before we get chemical burns,” he said, pushing Cora towards the living quarters.

The doors opened and the lights automatically turned on and Cora found herself in a tiny cabin. Tiny was an understatement, as there was barely any space for anything there. There was a table that could be pulled up to make more space when it wasn’t in use. The bed, that looked oddly similar to what she had slept on while imprisoned, was currently pulled up, otherwise she was sure they wouldn’t have enough space to move.

She felt a little awkward intruding into Cassian’s personal space, even though she knew she really needed that shower before she smeared everything in jet fuel or she caught fire. However, it was unusual seeing something as intimate as the place where someone slept.

There was a pair of worn out boots thrown in a corner and a sniper rifle leaning on the wall next to it. A parka and some trinkets were negligently flung on the table, but apart from those, and a few diagrams stuck to the walls, the room looked clean and empty. The cabin of a soldier.

“The shower is in the back,” he said, urging her to go first. “Just throw your clothes on the floor, I’ll get you some clean ones.”

She entered the shower and peeled off the wet and sticky clothes, dropping them into a pile on the floor, kicking them into a corner so she didn’t trip on them. She regretted having to part with the badass smuggler outfit, but she was sure it was already ruined. Maybe she’d find another cool one in Storage, but she knew it would be of no use to her: after another mission that almost ended with them getting killed (even though, again, it wasn’t her fault) she was sure Draven would never let her leave the base. White, medical uniform would be her only outfit for the rest of her life.

The water felt good on her skin, washing away the fouls smelling fluid. She grabbed a bar of soap and thoroughly scrubbed herself, but her skin still felt oily and dirty. Getting it out of her hair was another challenge, the engine oil and jet fuel mix seemed to stick to every strand and even after soaping it a few times still didn’t seem to wash off completely. Fortunately, the patch on her back was still holding.

She jumped in surprise when the door opened and a naked Cassian stepped in. She didn’t expect him to join her, but she realized that she was taking her time with the shower and they were in a hurry. She backed into a corner, leaving as much space between them as possible, even though it almost wasn’t enough for both of them to fit.

Cora was very aware of how close and how naked they were. Cassian had his back turned to her, offering her a little privacy. She knew the right thing to do would be to get out of there as fast as possible, looking away, but the only thing she could do was stare at the way his back muscles moved as he washed himself. She was absent-mindedly clutching the bar of soap in her hand while the water washed down her skin. She was amazed at how fast the adrenaline that was still running through her veins turned into arousal.

“You’ve missed a spot,” she said, making up her mind.

He looked over his shoulder, trying to find the spot he couldn’t reach, but Cora covered it with a soapy hand. He looked her in the eye for a moment, then turned back around, letting her clean it. His skin felt soft under her fingers and even after the dark spot of grease was no more, she still couldn’t take her hand away, letting her fingers follow the shape off his spine down to his waist.

He slowly and hesitantly turned around, as if giving her the chance to stop him. She didn’t. She extended her arm and rested it on his abdomen, right above his semi-erect cock. She felt him tense for a moment, then relax and cover her hand with his. He looked at her for a second, wet hair sticking to his forehead and water dripping from his beard. There was a look of determination in his eyes when he pulled her closer, pressing his lips onto hers in a hungry kiss. She grabbed onto his shoulders, pressing herself into him, finally able to feel his naked skin on hers. She hadn’t realized how much she needed to feel him like this and her body was shivering a little at the contact.

His hands were roaming freely over her body, his fingers over her naked skin giving her goosebumps and making the fluttering in the pit of her stomach increase to the magnitude of a medium tornado. However, the moment he touched the patch he seemed to remember her injury and started to back away.

“Don’t you dare run away now,” she growled in his ear, grabbing his hand and pulling it down to her ass. He chuckled and gave it a playful squeeze, making Cora jump a little and press her chest onto his, before he resumed the kissing and touching and nibbling. Her hand fell down to his cock, squeezing and pumping slowly, making his breath hitch.

The conditions were less than ideal. It wasn’t the time and place for this, a shower module on board of a U-Wing was definitely not designed with sex in mind, but even with water getting into their mouths and the constant risk of slipping and breaking something, they were too immersed into each other to care. They seemed determined to make up for that missed opportunity in the catacombs, so now their hands and lips were freely touching each other’s bodies, trying to draw out as much pleasure in as little time as possible.

A sudden jolt that sent them flying into a corner signalled that they had entered hyperspace. After making sure neither of them was hurt, they decided that shower sex was a fantasy they would have to fulfil another time, on less shaky ground, and reentered the cabin, leaving the shower door open and the water running. The cabin wasn’t designed with sex in mind either, but they were both intent to somehow make this work.

Cassian lifted Cora up and placed her onto the small table, without bothering to make some space first so her ass landed on the blue parka.

“Is there anything that may go up my ass?” she asked, touching the material with her hands, making sure nothing was going to poke her.

“Uhm…” he looked around and picked up a metal tube off the table. “A silencer?” he said, before throwing it on the floor.

“Kinky,” she laughed, and pulled him closer, running her fingers through his hair and kissing him passionately.

He positioned himself between her legs, holding her thighs in a firm grasp. Their foreheads were almost touching and he was looking into her eyes, hesitating for just a second, so she grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him into an embrace. He buried himself deep into her as she gasped into his ear, pressing herself even closer to him. She could feel his breath on her neck as he let her adjust and then the tiny kisses along the sensitive skin behind her ear.

They were mostly silent, like they were only used to having sex where they risked getting caught. The water still running in the shower was muffling any stray moan or gasp that may have left their lips as they rocked into each other. It wasn’t rough, but it definitely wasn’t gentle. It was primal and needy, their bodies almost moving on their own, finding a rhythm that suited both of them.

It didn’t take long before they found the much needed release, the excitement of the day, the fear and the adrenaline contributing to it. They collapsed into each other’s arms, ragged breaths and heated bodies, their brains floating in the clouds of pleasure. They stayed like that for a while, snuggled up into an embrace, Cora’s fingers idly playing with the hair on the back of his neck. She was feeling drowsy and content in his arms.

Cassian broke the embrace, a little too soon for Cora’s liking. “I have to take us home,” he whispered in her ear, his voice a little deeper than usual.

She nodded and hopped off the table, her knees feeling weak, and her body aching for rest, but she knew there was no time for that yet. She was still wet and without his arms around her, she started feeling cold, but before she started shivering, Cassian protectively wrapped her in a blanket.

She leaned against a wall, patiently watching him get dressed. He was way too energetic for someone who was just coming down from the heights of an orgasm, but she assumed cuddling after sex was something he just didn’t do. No matter how much she wanted to pull him close and hold him there for a while, basking in his warmth, she knew she couldn’t do it. So she just wrapped herself tighter in the blanket and yawned.

“I have to bring us home,” he said once again, putting a stack of clean clothes on the table for her to use. “We’ll have to make a few jumps until we get back, so you can pull down the bed and rest for a while.” She nodded and decided she may actually take him up on that offer, a sort of sluggishness taking over her. “See you later,” he said, and before she could say anything he was out.

Cora smiled. “No kiss goodbye, Captain Andor?” she whispered to herself before going to turn off the water.

*

When Cassian entered the cockpit he noticed that they were no longer in hyperspace. He didn’t feel the ship leaving it, but to his defence, he hadn’t been paying attention. He took a seat on the pilot chair and grabbed his headset.

“You took your time,” K2 criticised him.

“Yeah,” he didn’t deny. There was no point. “Do you have the calculations for our next jump?” he asked, not wanting to delay their arrival at base any longer.

“Where is she?” the droid asked, looking back over his shoulder.

“Resting, I assume.”

“I see.” The droid was curiously looking at Cassian and he didn’t understand why. “You’ve showered,” he said, and Cassian raised an eyebrow. It wasn’t like the droid to state such banalities.

“Yes,” he replied, not knowing where this was going.

“Together?”

“What?” He looked at him wide eyed. He couldn’t have heard them, not with the water running, and not while in hyperspace. Then what? Did he just assume it? That wasn’t like him either. “Of course not,” he denied it, going back to looking out the viewport.

“Right,” the droid said, as Cassian started the procedure to enter hyperspace. “Because that would be highly unhygienic,” he finished.

“Kriff!” Cassian whispered.

Previous chapter

Masterlist

[nerdolopedia-blog]

Why I Stopped Using Initiative

“Everyone, roll for initiative.”

Probably the most iconic phrase we hear in Dungeons & Dragons. It is seems to be a core mechanic that everyone is looking to modify and debate over how best to accomplish it. I have read countless articles on the topic and even attempted to dive into creating my own initiative system.

That was until I can across an article by The Angry GM. I do not know which article it was, and I have searched high and low for it. At its core he presented a thought I had never once decided to consider: why not just remove initiative? (If anyone comes across this article please feel free to send it my way or put it in the comments so I can properly cite it here.)

So I took the steps to removing initiative from my table. At first my players were skeptical but after a few attempts the system we chose worked well. The main point for me writing this article is to explain why and how I go about running a game of D&D 5e without the initiative system, because to be honest I’ve had so many people ask me how and why that this just makes sense.

What do you do instead?

This the first question I get asked when I bring up not using initiative. The short answer is: nothing. That answer is boring and has no meat. First I have to explain how games at my table play out. Overall my players are more roleplay focused than they are combat focused. I lost count of the number of times I set up a combat encounter just for the players to talk their way out of the fight or end it before it even began. Sure I could totally force a combat on my players, and I certainly have, but I also give them opportunities to stop the combat short from a narrative stance (e.g. seducing tavern goers from starting a fight, or using mass suggestion to make everyone non-violent).

With this in mind the initiative system causes a lot of problems for me. So instead I have each round of combat play out where everyone decides what turns they take, while I interrupt with what the enemies/allies decide to do. At the surface it might sound like the table would descend into chaos with everyone arguing with who should go first and that louder voices are going to go first. Luckily that doesn’t happen and its largely because of me. It is true that louder voices at the table have the upper hand in this system, but that isn’t the case when the loudest voice at the table is the Dungeon Master. All that changes is that the DM is no longer making sure whose turn it is, but rather that everyone has had a chance to go each round.

This system does have its flaws. It could be very unstable in an online game where you are not able to read body language as easily (and no, webcams actually don’t help much with this). In the hands of a particularly spiteful DM this system could be used disproportionally against the players. This system has to be used with the mentality of the DM that it is not them versus their players, but rather that you are crafting a better experience for them. This system also pulls away from a more rules heavy game, which some individuals prefer. You need to know your players and communicate effectively to them in order for this to work. A mutual agreement at the table has to be established.

I do ask my players to keep initiative written down but only for the sake of player versus player combat when going first is absolutely essential and I want to be impartial.If a player becomes mind controlled when they go becomes the Dungeon Master’s decision. This is simply to remove the ability for players to game when they have to do something against their character’s wishes.

What is wrong the normal Initiative system?

Overall there is nothing inherently wrong with the existing initiative system. It serves a very specific style of play. However, people like to meet different expectations with how combat is ordered. I like my games to be far more narrative. Lots of my combats are gridless and often mapless, or as the favored phrase is: Theater of the Mind. It helps save on resources and can be particularly effective for Actual Play podcasts since there is an absence of a visual component.

What The Angry GM pointed out in that article was the sudden disconnect that everyone gets the moment everyone is asked to roll for initiative. If you have ever played a Pokemon game or the older turn based Final Fantasy games you already know this disconnect. The moment you ask to roll for initiative everyone’s brain switches over to combat mode. They are no longer playing “a bunch of adventures existing in the world” they are “a bunch of adventurers going to beat the crap out of X”. It suddenly feels like a different game.

The transition between in-combat and out-of-combat is my main issue with the entire system. When do you declare combat starts? When do you say its over? What if they want to negotiate mid battle? The existing system does not make for a narrative way to handle the pausing, starting, and stopping of combat. It doesn’t break the surprise round either because then the outcome just occurs as normal. If the combat doesn’t end in one side getting completely wiped what do you do? If one side decides to flee do you call combat over when the party is incapable of catching them, or when the opposing party flees? What if the players try to flee? The current system encourages that everyone stays for every fight and wipe the entirety of their opposition out. While those fights are satisfying, I see it as a burden to get other outcomes.

The existing system also does not work well for coordinated actions. What if you want you and an ally to flank the bugbear to put him at a disadvantage (and grant yourselves advantage)? You have to work with your GM on making sure you do the right set of actions, like using the Ready action to do what you want and maybe fudge the rules. Removing that restriction lets for more creative cooperation between your players without having to house rule a patch to the existing system.

You are stealing opportunities from your players!

I actually had someone say this at me during one of our livestreams. I have not taken anything away from my players. The only time I may have cheated a player was when I failed to keep track that she had not gone, which you can’t say hasn’t happened using initiative either. We still do combats in rounds, so any abilities that end during a certain point during a turn or round still ends how it would, it is just more up to the player when that occurs.

I am aware that there are bonuses that some individuals get to initiative based on feats or class abilities. The way I handle this is that I am more likely to ask that player first what they are going to do than the other players each round. Even with those bonuses you are not always guaranteed to go first anyhow. The point of this system is to give more control to the players over the order of combat rather than restricting them, so I also remind the players of this before they make a choice that would grant them such an ability.

Final Thoughts

I have had quite a few discussions on the top of initiative and this concept often comes with people being skeptical. I completely understand, this is something that everyone sees as core to Dungeons & Dragons, but I do not believe that is reason enough for me to keep it. Every time I discuss this I try to remind people that this works at my table, but it might not at everyone else’s. I also do not use this system with newcomers to the hobby, they already don’t know the game so I try to not to set them up for misunderstanding when I am not sitting behind the DM screen at their table.

By no means do I think initiative is a horrible mechanic. In a situation where you don’t know the other players or you are just getting to know them, it keeps one of the most suspenseful parts of the game impartial. It is one less thing to argue over. It brings order to what could be a chaotic situation especially if all you can hear are each other's’ voices. For those massive dungeon crawls, or combat heavy games where your only goal is to get to the end and kill all the monsters in your way, initiative works just fine.

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Featured Image Credit: Wizards of the Coast