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emilykaldwen · 6 months

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The Maiden and the Drowning Boy | Aegon x OC | Chapter Three

Rating: Explicit Ships: Aegon II Targaryen x Abrogail Strong (Lyonel Strong's Daughter), Jacaerys Velaryon x Helaena Targaryen

Summary: As the kingdom teeters on the edge of chaos, Alicent Hightower swaps the pieces on the board: Aegon will marry Abrogail Strong, Larys’ younger sister and heir to Harrenhal. Caught in the web of intrigue and political machinations, the pair must figure out where their loyalties lie, and what they mean to one another.

Tropes: Childhood Sweethearts/Friends to Lovers, Generational Trauma and Cycles of Abuse, It's All About the Character Development, Unreliable Narrators, Multi-POV, Canon Divergent, Bisexual Aegon II Targaryen, Book/Show Mash Up, Fix-It Of Sorts, Stopping the Cycle of Abuse before it gets us all killed, Team Neutral, fairy tale vibes meets victorian medievalism meets grrm

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Chapter One | Chapter Two

CHAPTER THREE - SORROW IN IDLE MIND

Aemond is the most put upon person in the entire history of Westeros. Aegon is the most navel gazing, half drunk prince to ever hold the title. Alyn Hull is just here for figs and a good time.

Traipsing through the narrow, winding alleyways of the Street of Silk was not how Aemond Targaryen wanted to spend this evening. Nay, this was not how he wanted to spend any evening. He mourned the cloak he wore, for he was certain that amidst the cloying scents of perfume and incense, and of the sour of human stink beneath, he’d never get the evidence out.

He wished for the quiet comforts of mother’s solar with a thick tome upon his lap as he read aloud to Mother and Helaena as they sewed. Better yet were the times when he could retreat to Helaena’s room and read only to her. She would card her fingers through his hair, brush and braid the long strands back as she always had. Other times, she’d lean into his side, soft and warm and smelling of the peppermint tea she always drank before bed. Her long curls would tickle against his neck where her head tucked perfectly, like it belonged there, on his shoulder. Aemond would adjust the warm blanket over their laps to ensure she was cozy. The book would span across them both and he would wrap an arm about her, fingers playing with her beautiful hair.

He’d read stories of the lands beyond. The tales of djinn promising wishes and sphinx spinning riddles from the furthest parts of the Essosi continent. The monstrous woman with half a snake body, and hair made of living vipers from the Basilisk Isles, would always draw gasps when he’d describe the garden of stone heroes the monster made. Helaena would gasp at all the appropriate places, look at him with wide eyes and would ask, “Do they make it out alive?” He’d brush a soft, reassuring kiss to the crown of her head and with a grin, tell her to listen.

They’d read into the night, and then when it was time for bed, Aemond would relish the sleepy kiss he’d receive, chaste and innocent, and still able to make him flush. “Goodnight, dear brother,” Helaena would murmur and he’d eagerly press a kiss to the warmth of her palm, over the lifeline, the blood they shared thrumming beneath.

Dear brother, she always said with such love and reassurance; such care and surety that he was her dearest brother, her favorite brother.

“Goodnight, my sweet Helaena,” he would tell her before floating his way back to his own bed.

Instead of all those pleasant options, he was left grimacing as a patron from the tavern they were passing expelled the contents of his stomach all over the cobblestones. His brother called his name with obvious exasperation.

“Uncivilized,” Aemond muttered, and narrowly avoided pitching forward into the mess when Aegon’s hand grabbed his shoulder and hauled him up between him and Alyn Hull, who clapped him on the back with a hearty laugh.

The smile that Aegon gave was not a jovial one, although the drinks he had at the previous tavern made him less sullen and more focused, more intent on forgetting; running as far as he could in another direction. Though not so unusual for Aegon, the lone man in his brown robe and bare feet on the corner beseeching men to return home to the loving embrace of their wives had turned Aegon’s frantic need to flee into something darker when his gaze turned inward.

Aemond saw nothing wrong with what the man said. After all, he wanted nothing more than to return to the warm fire and loving embrace of his wife.

“Gellys!” Aegon called and Aemond immediately tried to hide behind the elder boys at the woman in the doorway. “A room for us! Best Arbor you’ve got. Some Dornish as well.”

“Milord,” Gellys drawled with that familiar smile - the one burnt on the backs of his eyelids - knowing better than to address the one before her as Prince. “We’re happy to serve.” Eyes swept over the trio and Aemond tilted his head down enough that his hood made it more difficult to see, yet it did little. “And you’ve brought this sweet one again! How lovely. Bess, the usual for his Lordship.”

The brothel had changed little since Aegon had dragged him here for his nameday nearly two years ago. The tapestries which draped the sandstone walls were not so dissimilar to the ones his mother had moved into the gallery back in the Red Keep. It portrayed men and women in acts of carnality and some kind of sexual acrobatics. The acts portrayed were ones that Aemond is not so certain of, but he’d rather study the ones back at the castle and not amidst the ribald laughter that clashes with the music. Aemond was sure that beneath the flicker and shadow of the torchlight, they were littered with worn spots and moth-eaten edges.

Heleana would know the kind that dwelled amid the fabrics and he wondered if he might find a dead one to bring back to her. Something good could at least come from this ridiculous adventure.

Laughter and gentle music permeated the first floor, and Aemond was grateful to be here and not in the boisterous racket of the last tavern they’d been kicked out of.

A sandy-haired bard, pug nosed and red-faced, strummed his lute with a flourish. Along with his three minstrels behind him, also clad in various clashing frocks, the four held court along the far end of the room while women flitted between light and shadow to entertain the men. Aemond thought he also spied a few feminine patrons as well, among the settees and tables, surrounded by a variable spread of fruits, wines, meats, and cheeses.

Another yank on his shoulder by Aegon’s hand hauled him towards the staircase, and his stomach lurched with the unpleasant memories of the last time he was in this place.

It’s different this time, Aemond reminded himself while being jostled up the stairs, following his brother’s silver head, Hull bringing up the rear. He did not need to ‘wet his wick’ on this particular sojourn into The Pearl and Oyster; instead he was here to make sure that Aegon did not end up going too far off the drunken path. And as little as he paid Alyn any mind, Aemond knew that the elder boy would also ensure that Aegon did not end up dead in the river or with a knife between his ribs.

Why was this a concern now? Aegon had frolicked about Flea Bottom for years. Not even three moons ago, his brother was dragged back to the Holdfast with a split lip and double black eyes from his broken nose by two broad Gold Cloaks who’d pulled him spitting and scratching from a tavern brawl.

He gave his brother credit where it was due. Though Ser Criston taught him how to wield a blade, Aegon taught him how to throw a proper punch.

‘Blades are good for when you have them, but in a pinch, use everything you have’, Aegon had said as he whipped the apple he’d been eating with surprising accuracy straight at his forehead.

It had hit hard enough to momentarily daze him, but luckily no one was around to see.

Wariness kept Aemond from immediately divesting himself of the cloak when they entered the room on the third floor. A roaring hearth was set along the outside wall and the primary source of light for what Aemond assumed was some attempt at ambience. Swaths of dusty, crimson fabric wound through the rafters and draped down to give the illusion of some Dornish pleasure tent and not a private room of a brothel in King’s Landing. A thick rug, far too fine for an establishment like this, muffled their footsteps as they crossed the room. Woven strands of scarlet and cream, embellishments in gold etched a design that would not be too out of place in his sire’s room.

Past further drapes of fabric, Aemond could see an enormous bed in the corner. His stomach twisted uncomfortably with nerves that barely eased at the reassuring sight of his companions taking to the table by the hearth and no women bursting from behind the fabric like shrieking ghosts in the night.

When Aegon and Alyn weren’t looking, Aemond tugged aside a drape to confirm that there were none silent and hiding - assassins or whores or some secret, third option that was just as unwelcome, if undefined.

It wasn't long before a stream of women and girls arrived, bearing plates of simple fare to go with the bottles of wine bearing the marks of familiar orchards of the Arbor and the Dornish sun, and a bottle of what he was certain to be a golden vintage from the Jade Sea - the kind his sire ordered to be served only in the company of the most important foreign dignitaries.

There were young girls with downcast eyes and soft blonde curls, women with bold gazes and plump red lips, ones with Lyseni features and hair that glowed in the firelight - though nowhere as fair or pure as his Helaena. Brunettes with messy curls and giggles batted their eyes at him. A pair of raven haired twins with lilac eyes and hair shorn to their bared shoulders brought up the rear.

Alyn already claimed the twins before they even finished setting their plates of meats and fruits on the scarred wood, giggling as he pulled them in. Aegon’s half-sullen, half-hungry expression gave way to heavy-lidded eyes as a buxom brunette carded her fingers through his hair.

Aemond wondered if this was the best the brothel had to offer, for they were perhaps pretty at most, but none truly stood out. He skirted away from the curious hand of the Lyseni and narrowly avoided bumping into a little redhead swerving around him with a quiet, “Excuse me, m’lord.” Young, and pale, with straight hair, she cut a path between the other whores and set a platter of figs and dates before his brother.

The scrape of the platter against the wood drew Aegon’s eyes from watching the woman who was crooning to him up to the new arrival. His eyes opened slowly, a frown pinching at his face, and Aemond watched his brother’s hands flex against the edge of the trestle. In a fascinating display, Aegon lifted a hand to reach for a lock of that red hair, eyes glazed and face flushed deeper.

“Aye, this is one of our new girls. We thought she might be to your liking, m’lord.” A laugh shook from her, breasts jiggling close to Aegon’s head but his brother didn’t even turn to look. Instead, whatever spell overtook his brother shattered and the hand that was reaching out for the girl’s red hair smacked on the table.

“Out!” he roared at the assembled women. The redhead gave a yelp of fright and stumbled back, toppling over a chair as the brunette crooner came to get her up off the floor. It was difficult to tell what fed Aegon’s angry outburst more: the mess she left in her wake, or the mere presence of her. “Get the fuck out!”

Alyn looked stunned. The whores about them looked stunned. Aemond was stunned.

Aegon’s jaw clenched as he rose to his feet. His brother was not a large man, not like their grandfather who looked above all, but the fury on his brother’s face ignited a flame of unease in his gut. Out of the pair of them, Aegon was, strangely enough, not the one most prone to outburst especially without an obvious reason for it. “If I have to tell you again, there won’t be any money for you to share tonight. Get out!”

The room fell quiet as the door slammed shut behind the girls. Aemond slowly took off his cloak and looked at Alyn, who met his gaze with confusion and then something like dawning realization. Aegon ignored them both, pulling over one of the Dornish bottles to fill his goblet.

“For fuck’s sake, Aeg-”

“Don’t you start with me, Hull.” A pause and then Aegon reached to his right side, grabbing the chair and sliding it out. “Aemond, sit your pissy ass down and eat something. Mother’ll have me locked up should I bring you home in a cart faint from hunger.” He took a large swallow of his third cup of wine that night, garnet liquid dripping along his chin like blood and staining the old linen tunic and along his pale chest, revealed from where the laces were undone.

Alyn shifted in his chair, striking with the way his freckles stood out along his darker skin with the silver twists of his hair leaving his expression clear. Aemond met his gaze as he took the chair his brother offered. Alyn did not have purple eyes - his were a vivid jade color, but he looked far more Velaryon than his own nephews. Aemond reached a hand up to adjust his new eyepatch. He ran his thumb along the strap, where he could feel the embroidery in the leather that Helaena had worked so hard on for her dearest, favorite brother.

Aemond tried not to sigh. He would not get his goodnight kisses tonight.

A sharp kick hit his shin and Aemond gave a startled, “ow!” Indignant and annoyed, he focused back on Alyn who raised his brows with the clear look of what in the name of the Seven is going on with your brother?

What wasn’t going on with Aegon?

They both looked back at the man in question, who was tearing into a fig with his glowering expression and greedy fingers. Aemond’s stomach growled, and he grabbed one for himself before his brother could devour them all. He sniffed it first, unsure about trusting brothel food, but it smelled of warm honey. Biting into it, the taste of apple and strawberry burst on his tongue. Alyn was helping himself to one of the dried meats on another platter. It was a higher fare than Aemond had expected, but the relative cleanliness of the room belied the money that lined the pockets of the one who owned the place. At least Aegon hadn’t dragged them to something filthy and (obviously) flea ridden.

He recalled the first and only time his brother had brought him to a brothel. This very one. It was a different room, him alone with that Gellys woman who kept pestering him about the type of girls he liked, or if he’d ever touched himself. She’d brought in a Lyseni girl, young but still older than him. She had a sweet face, and for a moment he wondered if he could just pretend to get through the night.

Instead, she listened rather sweetly while he spoke of saving his sister from the unwanted betrothal with Aegon. His brother had not relished in the duty, but Aemond did. He had a dragon now, Vhagar, the largest and oldest of all of them. It was with his dragon, he explained to the Lyseni girl, that he had enough power to storm in and break up this farce of a betrothal, And they listened to him. Helaena was ever so grateful about it, charmed, and touched, and gave him a kiss on the cheek and called him her gallant knight. She didn’t even protest when he told her they would be married instead. Helaena had only hummed in her little agreeable way while mother tried to protest that they shouldn’t be too hasty. Aemond did not share that marrying Helaena, riding Vhagar, and having his mother acquiesce to his demands, might even mean that he would be who they wanted to make heir. Of course their father wouldn’t put Aegon on the throne over their eldest sister. But Aemond? Aemond rode his grandsire Baelon’s dragon, and he’d marry his sister, and he had started to outpaced Aegon in the training yard.

Aemond had proven them all wrong. They had laughed and gave him a pig, and he’d gotten Vhagar.

He was grateful Aegon was disinterested in throwing women at him this time, let alone in taking any for himself. He could at least sit here and eat decent finger foods and wait for his brother to either pass out from drinking or give up and head home.

“Did you get called into the tower as well today?” Aemond ventured in ill-disguised casualness, reaching for a piece of cheese this time. He didn’t meet Alyn’s curious gaze, for both of them were watching Aegon refill his goblet already.

A grunt was all the answer he supplied.

“What got you pulled into that old fucker’s room?”

Another grunt and a roll of his eyes. “Not blamed for once,” he muttered. “Just bullshit.”

How taciturn. Aemond shifted in his chair, and carefully offered, “You know, Abrogail got pulled into his office as well. He came to Helaena’s room himself to retrieve her.” Aegon’s flushed face reddened more, pink eyes narrowing over his goblet he held to his mouth but did not drink from.

Aemond pursed his lips and thought of the scene in the gardens earlier. Abrogail came back from their grandfather’s office far quieter than usual before so harshly snapping at his sweet Helaena and squashing one of her bugs. At the moment, Aemond had been rageful at the behavior, for his Helaena didn’t deserve that. But hours later, he had realized that, mayhaps, he’d been a little harsher than he ought to have been. He would not apologize, of course, but Helaena was always getting on him about his temper. It had been rather unusual for his cousin. He could not recall the last time she spoke so angrily that wasn’t caused by someone doing something reckless in the training yard - however that was far more mother hen than annoyed and snappy.

“Abrogail?” Alyn rolled her name around his mouth and drew it out in a tease. “And here I thought it was simply wine not getting your cock up. But Abrogail, hm? All of that yelling over some red hair?” A lazy shrug, dagger stabbing into a piece of meat before him. “Makes sense now.”

“I told you not to start,” Aegon warned once more before taking another mouthful of the Arbor red. His eyes were dark, a smirk slashing across his soft face. “Came to Helaena’s room himself, you say? Spend the night, little brother? Has our sweet sister finally let you beneath her skirts or did you creep in again even though Mother forbade it?”

Aemond felt his cheeks color, and he slapped his hand on the table. “Don’t talk about her like that.” A deep breath, the way his book from Bravos recommended. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Center. Stay within the moment. Aegon’s eyes were slicing through him, as if he could peel back the layers of skin and see what lay beneath. A gaze even more dangerous, given his brother’s dance into the land of inebriation, but Aemond simply continued. “Abby got upset with us. Her eyes were red. It looked like she’d been crying.”

His brother made a sound and took another swallow. Alyn caught his gaze again and pinned him there until Aemond gave a slight nod, confirming that this was what in seven hells was going on. Whatever had happened in their grandfather’s office, whatever had his cousin crying and Aegon ready to bite everyone’s head off like Helaena’s pet mantis.

“Both of you pulled into the old Tower’s office this morning? Maybe it’s less about those two-” Alyn waved a negligent hand towards Aemond. “And more about, say, you finally getting under your little Maiden Marchpane’s skirts?” A laugh and the bastard Velaryon snagged up the Arbor red and pulled the cork with his teeth and spat it out towards the fire. “Then you what? Left her before sunrise covered in-”

“Don’t you fucking talk about her like that!” Aegon lifted the plate of figs and flung it across the table, sending the fruit scattering and the plate clipping off of Alyn’s surprised shoulder to shatter against the hearthstones. Aemond’s single eye widened, and he pressed back in his chair even though the trajectory was nowhere near him. “I didn’t fucking touch her.” The hand that flung the plate still hung in the air, trembling as his brother loomed over the table. He lacked any sort of threatening implement but Alyn raised his eyebrows and cocked his head. “I didn’t lay a hand on her. I wouldn’t. I never do.” Defensive, as was Aegon’s nature. Defensive in the face of accusations that were true. Except for once, Aemond thought, phantom pain lancing through his face. Except for maybe now.

“Well, you mope about her enough. Fuck me, no wonder you got so worked up over the redhead. So what happened, hm? Did she accuse you of something? Did they say no more rides on the back of that dragon of yours?” A smirk at the double entendre, but he raised his hands in surrender before Aegon could throw something else.

Silvery hair, limp with sweat, fell into Aegon’s eyes as he shook his head. “No, nothing like that.” He raised his goblet for another drink and collapsed back in the chair, slouched and melancholy in the worst of ways. Aemond tried not to roll his eye again at the display of dramatics. “Worse.”

Aemond’s brow furrowed. “Worse?” he asked, confused. Dramatic, yes, but he also wanted to know what had happened.

A log in the grate popped and cracked from the heat as conversation fell silent. The brothel outside the door continued to bustle. There was the distant shriek and laughter of someone down the hall, but no sounds of violence. Aegon was staring into his drink as if it held all the answers he could ever need. Aemond supposed that wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. His brother had gone to drink before anything else for years now. This wouldn’t be any different.

“They brought us up to go over all the missives asking for her hand,” he finally said. Aemond strained to hear him and Alyn leaned forward in his curiosity. “Had an entire basket of scrolls wanting the heir of Harrenhal. Mother was there, and her dog, who said nothing regarding his sister.” Aegon made a face and shook his head. “I’m marrying Abrogail.”

That wasn’t what Aemond expected. “Is that why she looked like she was crying when she came back to the gardens-”

“Yes, yes, that’s exactly fucking why,” Aegon hissed through his teeth and pelted him with one of the figs scattered on the scarred tabletop. It bounced off Aemond’s chest and rolled across the table where Alyn snatched it up. “Told her to be fucking grateful, stop lying about - it doesn’t matter. Made her cry, and she best get used to it.”

“Then why the hell are you complaining about it?” Alyn asked with a shake of his head. “Aeg, you’ve panted after her for years, now here she is. You don’t have to marry your weird sister, you get to bed someone you actually like. Sounds as if for once, Tower’s done right by you. What are you so fucking upset about? That you weren’t the only choice? You’re a jealous prick, you know-”

“Done right by me?” Aegon raged, his hand holding the cup gesturing out and splashing arbor red up his wrist and across the floor. He hissed and shoved at his sleeve, where deep red scratches stood out against his pale wrist.

Alyn looked at him with an almost bored expression. “They’ve given you a cherry ripe wife-”

“No, you fucking cunt, they gave me the fucking Maiden!” Clay and wine smashed against the wall as he flung it at his friend’s head and missed this time. “The last uncorrupted, perfect thing left in my life.” A stabbing finger punctuated each point, and the resemblance to the angry, spitting rage their father rarely showed was never more pronounced. “The last one who doesn’t look at me like they wish I were someone, anyone else. They give her in all that innocent glory on a fucking gold platter-”

Alyn bit into a date. “And you made her cry.”

“And I made her fucking cry!” Aegon’s sharp bark of laughter held the familiar, manic edge and it rang in Aemond’s ears. Tears spilled down Aegon’s face amidst it. Sad. Pathetic. The self-loathing in his brother’s face made him feel sick and uncomfortable, and Aemond said nothing, couldn’t find anything to say and left it for Alyn to navigate for the time being. “I’ve never fucking touched her ‘cause I… I can’t ruin her. I won’t. Get her sick with whatever the fuck is wrong with me. No. No, and you know what’s worse?”

“The others-” Alyn began patiently, prising open the fig.

“The fucking others! Bastard had a whole bloody basket filled with little more than filth not worth to look upon her, wanting to shove their cocks in her till she breaks giving them their muddy fucking brats.”

“But you wouldn’t break her.”

“I wouldn’t! Not unless she asked me to, and I’d make it so good for her. But no, she’d burn me as soon as I touched her. Too unclean to fuck her, get her belly full of me.” Aegon groaned and collapsed into his chair, palm on his chest. “She’d burn me and I’d sing her praises. Burn my filthy damned soul just to touch her, Alyn.”

Aemond did his best not to sigh, warring feelings of relief and annoyance that Aegon’s focus was on the baseborn Velaryon across the table.

On the one hand, he didn’t mind that his brother was mostly leaving him alone. Aegon knew he was only here because of their mother’s insistence on Aemond being his brother’s keeper. While he’d rather be anywhere but here, Aegon wasn’t poking at him or trying to get much of a rise.

On the other, every time Alyn Hull opened his mouth, every time the two silver-haired miscreants shared a laugh over some inside joke, Aemond wanted to scream. They spoke with easy familiarity to annoyed tavern keepers, and every time Alyn showed how close he was to Aegon, it burned something in the pit of his stomach.

He was used to jealousy since the day he could understand his place among his siblings. He was used to the jealous feeling that he would not be Aegon, had grown used to the jealousy that Helaena had been born for Aegon and not him. It was only with the breaking of the betrothal that Aemond felt a cooling of his blood towards his brother. However, now in the face of his so-called friendship with the bastard, it reignited. Aemond still felt awkward speaking up or inserting himself into the conversation, and both of them included him to a minimal degree.

Yet, Alyn was waving a hand at Aegon’s dramatics, and while Aemond also felt annoyed at it, he knew there was more. Aegon was snappish, perpetually amused, arrogant in the way of dragonriders, and thus closer to being a god.

His brother was moody and glassy eyed, flinching whenever their mother raised her voice or moved too quickly with wild gesturing. He became wide eyed like a little child whenever Ser Criston praised him in the yard, preening beneath the encouragement. Whenever Abrogail laughed in that bright and honest way of hers at one of Aegon’s dumb jokes, Aegon looked like he’d sprouted his own pair of wings to hover above the ground. She always laughed at his jokes. Every stupid one. She always had an encouraging word for him, for all of them, but he saw the way Aegon’s shoulders would straighten, the pink on his cheeks ill disguised.

It had been like that for as long as he could remember. For as long as there was the jealousy that he was not the eldest, that Helaena was not born for him, that Aegon had a bond with a dragon so innate that no matter how much of a disappointment he was, it seemed to be the only thing truly good about him.

Aemond had thrown him into their father’s jaws, and though surprised, Aegon didn’t even flinch. Aegon had stood stoic in front of the fire and without hesitation, had spoken the truth to their father’s face, to everyone’s face.

Alyn Hull would never have Aegon stand before their gathered family and protect him, them, and their mother. Aegon would for Aemond, and so Aemond would do his best to help.

He had the most relationship experience out of everyone here. Him and Helaena were practically married already, regardless of mother’s insistence on finding him a Baratheon marriage. Confident in his unique qualification for such a moment, Aemond would rise to the task the way their grandsire did. A true Hand, when his brother needed one most.

“Did you mean to make her cry?” Aemond broke the silence that had descended with his carefully worded question, and Aegon’s pink eyes, glossy and red from drink and the tears that threatened, gazed incredulously back through the strands of his silver hair. “You can be an idiot and careless, but you’ve never been cruel to her.”

Aegon had been plenty cruel to him and Helaena, the trio of them rolling in the dirt or knocking over side tables with the bites they took out of one another. Abrogail was different; she may have grown up with them and shared blood, but she wasn’t their sibling, rather, an innocent bystander to the theatrics of his family.

Alyn looked as if he might try to catch his eye but Aemond did not grace him with a return look. Hull needed to learn his place, and be reminded that he was Aegon’s brother, and knew him best.

“Skoros mōris aōhys issa, valonqus?” Aegon’s tone was flat and sullen and did a poor job of masking his wariness. His shoulders shifted quickly straight to the way he held them when Mother would broach the subject of Aegon’s doing better and Aegon’s acting more princely and Aegon’s doing anything but being Aegon.

What is your point, little brother?

What is your end, little brother?

Fuck, Aemond thought, fingers tapping on the edge of the table. Aegon never used their mother tongue, and only did so in the most dire, dangerous moments. He’d have to tread lightly.

“Have you bothered to ask her?” Aemond tried a different approach. Surely, his brother couldn’t know her inner thoughts without asking and the obviousness of such a thing shouldn’t stoke his brother’s ire. He was never certain of Helaena’s mind until he asked, and they were twin flames who rode the eldest dragons. Two halves of a heart like those songs that she so enjoyed.

It was foolish of Aegon to think he knew Abrogail’s mind, but luckily, he was here to offer guidance.

Aegon pointedly ignored him, turning his glare to Alyn. The older boy chuckled, “What? He’s right.” Alyn muttered something but he couldn’t hear. It did not truly matter.

Aemond continued, emboldened by the agreement, “Only, when Helaena and I argue -”

Aegon let out a laugh, his usual nervous idiocy replaced with a cackle and still with that mad sounding edge. “When you and Helaena argue? You, Mother’s Holy Voice of Reason? Dreamy little Helaena and her kingdom of bugs? Arguing?”

Dreamy little Helaena had left a scar on Aegon’s forearm from when she’d bitten him so hard she drew blood when they were young, but Aegon’s memory had been dodgy of late. Even in his growing annoyance and the heated flush creeping over him, Aemond could forgive.

He could try to forgive. Later. When his patience wasn’t running out and he wasn’t grinding his teeth so hard they might break.

“That’s not -”

“Which riveting topics ignite such quarrels between you babes? Whether you obsess over your blade and books too often? If Helaena’s upset about her stupid bugs being in the wrong place? Whether she actually likes you over the attention she’s been giving that squire lately and how she giggles for him instead of you? Do not presume to know my dealings with my Maiden, valonqus. You wouldn’t know passion if it were riding your cock.” Aegon was rarely cruel, but he was good at it, and the smirk that twisted his features was just that. Cruel. “Seven knows our dreamy sister has no interest in riding you, or she probably would’ve done it already..”

It felt foolish that the first thing Aemond thought of was that no simple squire could ever be a better option than he, for he was a Targaryen and above the laws and expectations of the simple, common man. They were as close to gods as any could hope.

The second foolish thing burst from him as Vhagar burned inside, his fury and embarrassment pulled him to his feet to lean across the table and get into his pathetic brother’s face. Aegon no longer loomed over him, and was no longer as intimidating as he once was.

Aegon may have the perfect bond with his dragon, but Aemond had Vhagar.

There was nothing left to be jealous of his brother for.

“At least I know what love feels like,” Aemond snarled, his single eye locked on Aegon’s face and his teeth bared, every inch of him vibrating with the insult, the desire to curl his hands around his brother’s flushed neck barely suppressed. “At least I’m not too stupid to recognize it.”

The air in the room vanished in the wake of his outburst. The world held its breath and not even the logs popped. Not even baseborn Alyn with his japes and his commentary made a sound.

Aegon was still before him, eyes bright and sharp with a focus he’d never seen before except in the eyes of a dragon. The instinct to pull away was screaming at him but Aemond remained pinned in place. His jaw shut with a click, his eye widening when he finally registered what he’d said.

Oh yes, he’d fucked it up.

Aemond could feel Alyn’s gaze fixated on him but he didn’t move. He felt like if he moved, Aegon’s teeth would sink into his throat and rip it out. He couldn’t move as the fear and horror trickled ice through his veins, quenching that jealous, angry fire.

Aegon’s face had gone ashen; the horrid, blank look he got when Mother or Grandfather screamed at him came over him. His wisteria eyes continued to pin him. Aemond’s mouth grew dry as his brother’s ashen pallor turned pink, and then slowly red.

A muscle in his jaw ticked, and it was like Aegon was releasing him from a spell.

“Aegon,” Aemond rasped. “I didn’t-” He could speak but the abject regret and humiliation strangled him from being able to form any words.

Aegon’s face had turned a shade of purple and with a feral yell and the distant sound of a dragon’s scream coming from the open window, Aegon lunged across the table at him.

They went crashing ass over chair, food and goblets scattering and Aemond hitting the floor hard enough to knock the breath from him. A startled shout sounded somewhere, distantly, but it took everything in Aemond to focus before his brother’s fist connected squarely, solidly with his jaw. His face erupted in a million bursts of pain with a crack in his ear, yet Aemond’s fists reached up to push Aegon off, wordless yelling doing nothing to prevent his brother landing another blow.

Instinct drove Aemond now, Ser Criston’s training discarded in favor of the overwhelming voice that compelled him: get up or he’ll kill you. Get up or he’ll pummel you like Harwin Strong pummeled Ser Criston in the training yard until he was beyond bloody.

Even with his incandescent fury, Aegon was still closer to drunk than sober, and after spitting in his face, Aemond got his leg up and kneed his brother in the stomach, pushing him off and scrambling away so he was no longer pinned like one of Helaena’s favorite bugs to the display board.

Viscous blood spat from his mouth. “I take it back!” he yelled, shoving the chair in Aegon’s way while he scrambled to his feet.

With a roar, Aegon threw the chair and Aemond darted out of the way, the wood crashing against the stone wall. Alyn shouted Aegon’s name, another dragon call sounded over the city, and then Aemond felt Vhagar’s bond vibrate in his own chest, concern that was not his own clouding his mind.

Oh fuck.

“Aegon! Stop!” Aemond darted around the table to get it between them.

Alyn, the useless bastard, backpedaled out of the line of fire.

Aegon was on his heels and yanked him back by his long hair, landing another hit square on his nose. A sickening, dizzy feeling swept through Aemond at the stab of pain through his face, blood pouring from his nostrils.

Aegon reared back again.

Sunfyre was screaming across the city.

Aemond could not reach for the platter on the table to smack his brother with, and so he did the only other thing he could do: as Aegon went to throw his next punch, Aemond grabbed him by the shoulders and kneed him in the balls.

Just like how Helaena taught him.

[Chapter Four]

#house of the dragon #asoiaf #house of the dragon fanfic #hotd fanfic #hotd fic #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii targaryen x oc #aegon ii targaryen fic #aemond targaryen #aegon targaryen fic #aegon x abby #fic: the maiden and the drowning boy

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eruden-writes · 10 months

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Sexy Robots & Pinups

I opened the cards!

I do want to say that I really dig Hajime Sorayama's work and looked him up further. If you like his rendition of robots here, check out his website! I find the art super beautiful.

I did record myself opening them, but I haven't put the videos anywhere yet.

Highlights:

No repeats!

A mispack

2 cards I considered iffy

no chromium cards :(

So, onto the pictures!

These were the packs I opened. They're from 1993.

I'm not going to show all of the cards I got. Just the ones I liked.

First, the robot ladies:

Of the 30, 10 were robot ladies. (But there were plenty of other interesting ones!)

My favorite is this Venus/Aphrodite robot. Just a sucker for a mash-up of classical and modern/futuristic.

Here's a better picture of this one:

These two being landscape are pretty notable.

I love the pink/yellow dress combo.

I like the jacket on this one and the faint gold coloration on her hip. Almost like a faint tattoo. Also, visor eyes. <3

I like the intimacy of this one. There's a fire in the background, she has a drink. I don't know, just gives me cozy sexy vibes.

Gotta love the splash of red against the silver body. Also, this is one where her feet aren't heels. Oh, and she has visor-eyes!

But that's about all I got to say for the robot lady (ladies?)

They were pretty much what I expected. Beautiful art, but the same kind of robot in each iteration with small differences.

Here are the human pinups that I thought were notable:

This lady is all dressed up like she's in a post-apocalyptic hellscape, but her titties are syran wrapped? Why? lol

Maybe a distraction technique?

This one just looked like a creepy pasta. I think it's the way they chose to shade it, but made the whites of the eyes and teeth white.

This one is actually in a completely wrong pack. Still love the art, though!

For reference, the back of this one is on the left compared to the back of this Sexy Robots pack:

I forgot to include this one in the group shot, but her expression is very somber. I just didn't expect somberness from this pack.

These are additional ones that I wanted to add, upon re-perusal.

Love the Typical Tinder Guy With Fish pose here. Also getting lesbian vibes from her.

Some sort of cyber punk goth cowgirl?

I was just surprised to see a muscle lady in this pack.

And to top it off, I really liked this one. Her expression, the color of the background, her pose.

But, yeah, that's it!

Of the 30 cards, 10 were robots and 20 human(y) ladies. (I mean, you could make an argument about a few of them.)

1 card was from a totally different pack. lol

The art is beautiful, but - as I expected - definite male fantasies. The longer I stare at some of these, the more the anatomy mistakes/choices become evident.

#exophilia #monster lover #monster fucker #robot #robot girlfriend #robophilia #suggestive #hajime sorayama

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grailfinders · 2 years

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Fate and Phantasms Viewer's Choice #11: Ritsuka Fujimaru (for real this time)

today on Fate and Phantasms we’re building Ristuka Fujimaru, technically for the second time. the first was more the nameless master though, this one’s the true blue Ritsuka, with all the mystic code stuff to match! like, all of it all of it. we put anything that boosted a card type down as just general attack improvement, but there’s still so many things Ritsuka can do with those funky outfits.

(also, just like the servants we’re only using the codes available in NA, so that’s Chaldea Pathfinder at the latest!)

anyways, they’re a Spirit Bard to summon some spirits and be the most friend-shaped motherfucker you’ve seen in your life, as well as a Clockwork Soul to be chosen as the protagonist in a videogame and get a little of their own magic out of the deal.

check out their build breakdown below the cut, or their character sheet over here!

Race and Background

as mentioned many many times in FGO, Ritsuka Fujimaru is a Human, but I want that feat so we’re using variant rules. that gives you +1 Dexterity and Charisma, as well as a feat and skill proficiency of your choosing. grab History proficiency so you have some idea where your party came from and the Lucky feat to not die in the opening cutscene. you get three luck points, and whenever a d20 gets rolled and its outcome direct affects you, you can spend one point to roll another d20 and use either one.

speaking of the bombing, it made you a Haunted One, giving you proficiency in Arcana and Survival, as well as a thousand-yard stare.

Ability Scores

your highest ability should be Charisma. you are so friend-shaped you can bend the will of literally all evil in the world to your side, and you also need that for multiclassing. after that, Constitution. they walked from one end of the US. on foot. in a few days. also, they’ve survived a lot of bullshit that frankly should have killed them by now, and they’re tough against poison. third up is Dexterity. none of your mystic codes so far have been platemail, and you fight living nukes for a living. best to not get hit in the first place then. after that, your Strength is slightly above average. I wouldn’t call Ritsuka strong, but they’ve gotten plenty of exercise and have been getting trained by the greatest warriors ever. that means your Intelligence isn’t great. they usually have some understanding of new servants, but thankfully Mash is always around for the exposition. finally, we’re dumping Wisdom. they were unhinged before, but I doubt killing multiple realities has helped any.

Class Levels

1. Bard 1: starting off as a bard gives you proficiency in Dexterity and Charisma saves as well as three skills of your choice. pick up Persuasion to get everyone on your team, Deception to survive kiyohime, and Athletics for a little bit of muscle tone.

aside from that, you can use Bardic Inspiration to give a d6 to a friend using your bonus action Charisma times per long rest. they can then use that d6 and add it to any d20 roll they make in the next minute- that’s a saving throw, ability check, or attack roll! a d6 isn’t quite enough to count as a mystic code skill in my book, but it’s nice.

speaking of mystic codes, you can start putting those on by using some Spells which you cast using your Charisma. pick up Friends, Animal Friendship, and Charm Person to just be real friendly. none of those are mind control, but you will be best buds for a minute, a day, or an hour respectively, and regardless of spell they will know you charmed them after the spell wears off. also Friends specifically mentions you might get attacked, but you’re normally getting attacked before you make friends, so it’s not a huge difference. you can also use True Strike to make an attack that pierces evasion next turn! all physical attacks ignore evasion, it’s only for dex saves! basically, it’s bad, but it’s not like Ritsuka was good at fighting directly.

you can also use Disguise Self to swap mystic codes mid-adventure, which is canonically the reason why guda can wear a bikini in the Russian Lostbelt, because she isn’t. you also get Heroism for some recurring healing, giving them your charisma modifier in temporary HP each turn, as well as making them immune to being frightened. boom, there’s debuff immunity too, we’re on a roll! three down, like 13 more to go!

Ritsuka has so many outfits

2. Bard 2: at second level we’ll pick up the spell Cure Wounds for direct healing, as well as gain Magical Inspiration so your allies can add that d6 to one instance of their spell’s damage or healing! that’s an arts up buff!

you also get a Song of Rest you can perform on short rests for a d6 bonus to healing, and your time in Babylonia has made you a Jack of All Trades, adding half your proficiency bonus to all checks you’re not proficient in, including initiative! which is really good, since your entire battle strategy is not being directly involved.

3. Sorcerer 1: before you can start summoning, we’ve got to get your heroic destiny underway. I was really tempted to go Aberrant Mind to play into Verse’s whole “the player is an eldritch god” thing, but while I headcanon that Ritsuka’s the scion of an outer god, there’s no denying that they’re a videogame character, a.k.a. a Clockwork Soul. with this you gain some Clockwork Magic, giving you extra spells as you level up. if you don’t like the official listing, you can also replace them with another spell from the sorcerer, wizard, or warlock spell list of the same level if it’s an abjuration or transmutation spell. we do that once, but I’ll mention it when it happens.

you can also Restore Balance as a reaction, turning a roll with advantage or disadvantage happening within 60’ of you into a straight 1d20 roll. you can do this proficiency times per day, but thankfully you’ll probably only have to deal with near death experiences once per chapter.

as I insinuated with clockwork magic, you get another Spell List, though this one also uses Charisma to cast. check the PHB to see how many spell slots you have at a given level, and know you can use your slots to cast either class’ spells whenever you want.

it’s long overdue for us to grab Mage Armor. you probably could spin the space suit as leather armor, but now you can use any mystic code in a fight without fear! with less fear!

you can also use Shield to give yourself invulnerability, adding +5 to your AC for the rest of the round. or use Blade Ward for a defense boost. Shocking Grasp is this build’s Gandr, dealing a little lightning damage while also keeping whatever you hit from taking reactions that round. use it to escape or keep a meddlesome wizard from countering your party’s NP, either works great!

We’re also picking up Create Bonfire for the Pathfinder’s Survival Kit skill. I know that’s not what it does in-game, but you’ve been in enough survival situations to know a campfire is super useful.

Mending as well as your clockwork spells Alarm and Protection from Evil and Good have no mystic code connection as far as I can come up with, but they’re nice to have. if your power comes from clothes, you’d better know how to sew.

4. Bard 3: even when we’re being serious, we still can’t escape from the gacha. as a heroic Spirits bard, the Guiding Whispers of your allies gives you access to the Guidance cantrip, and it gets a longer range to boot! for a minute afterwards, your target can add a d4 to a check of their choosing. it takes concentration, but it’s a cantrip so there’s no reason to always have this up outside of combat. a servant always fights a bit better with a master.

you also get a Spiritual Focus, helping you channel historical figures and fictional archetypes oh hey what a coincidence that’s what we’re here for. you get an expanded spell focus list, and if you use your spiritual focus to cast a spell you can add a d6 to one instance of the spell’s damage or healing.

but that’s not what you’re really here for, is it? no, you’re here for the gacha. and you get that with the Tales form Beyond. spend a bonus action and some inspiration, and you can roll on the tales table. you learn a tale until your next rest, and you can use an action to tell it to a creature nearby. afterwards, you’ll have to roll again for another heroic spirit.

on a 1, you summon Hessian Lobo, the Clever Animal. after you choose a creature, all their intelligence, wisdom, and charisma checks for the next 10 minutes get your inspiration die added to the roll.

on a 2, you summon Chevalier D’eon, the Renowned Duelist. you make a melee spell attack against your target, dealing 2dInspiration+Charisma mod force damage to them on a hit.

on a 3, you summon Anne Bonny and Mary Read, the Beloved “Friends”. your target and a creature of their choice both gain temporary HP.

on a 4, you summon Miss Crane, the Runaway. your target can react to teleport up to 30’ away, and can give other creatures the chance to make the same reaction. yes, we got the plugsuit in this build!

on a 5, you summon Angra Mainyu, the Avenger. anyone who hits your target with a melee attack takes your inspiration die in force damage. if you’re fighting him, don’t hit him while he’s a dog, simple as.

on a 6, you summon Mash Kyrielight, the Traveler. your target gains temporary HP, and while it has them it gets increased speed and a +1 bonus to its AC. even if no-one is playing as her, she’s still your shield.

one more thing- ring in the new year with your new spell, Aid! it increases your party’s max HP by five, and an additional five points for each level you upcast it. don’t sleep on this one.

Finally, you gain Expertise in two skills, doubling your proficiency bonus with Persuasion and Survival checks. You are very friendly, and you’ve been through quite a lot.

5. Bard 4: fourth level bards get your first Ability Score Improvement. bump up your Charisma for a friendlier face and stronger spells.

you’re also enough of a mage now to use Prestidigitation, or cast Invisibility on a party member to give them Evade until they attack someone or cast a spell.

6. Bard 5: fifth level bards can cast third level spells, and your Inspirational Speech finally gives your party a direct attack boost against anyone who hits them. they gain temporary HP, advantage on Wisdom saves, and have advantage on their next attack against anyone dumb enough to take a swing.

you’re also a Font of Inspiration now, so your inspiration comes back every short rest rather than every long one. that’s more help, more magic damage, and MORE GACHA!!!!!

speaking of more gacha, your tale pool improves as your bardic inspiration die increases to a d8. I guess you’re stuck with the story gacha this time, sorry.

if you roll a 7, you’ll summon Mephistopheles, the Beguiler. if your target fails a wisdom save, they’ll take psychic damage equal to 2 inspiration dice, and they become incapacitated for a round.

on an eight, you summon First Hassan, the Phantom. your target becomes invisible for a turn, or until it hits a creature with an attack. if it hits something, that something also takes necrotic damage and becomes frightened of the creature who hit it.

7. Sorcerer 2: second level sorcerers are Fonts of Magic, giving you sorcery points each day equal to your sorcerer level. they’ll be fun later, but right now it’s just giving you an extra spell slot per day. that’s not a bad thing tbh.

speaking of spells, pick up Absorb Elements. it adds elemental damage to your next weapon attack, but we’re more here for the elemental resistance. that’s right, we’ve got sunscreen now baby! yes that’s literally why we’re taking this spell.

8. Sorcerer 3: third level sorcerers learn some Metamagic, helping you customize your spells further. grab Extended Spell to really make your buffs stick and Heightened Spell to give one creature disadvantage on their first save against that spell.

neither of those really help when you cast Air Bubble though, but now you’ve got a proper space suit! it lasts 24 hours, so make sure you don’t sleep through that alarm!

you also learn Knock (replacing Aid) and Lesser Restoration from your clockwork spells. that’s some debuff removal and opening doors! the latter isn’t a mystic code power, but if you’re already in space at least it’ll be quiet!

9. Sorcerer 4: fourth level sorcerers also get an ASI to max out your Charisma for all that good stuff we mentioned the first time. you can also use the spell Shape Water to add some funky flavor to your next beach episode, and this also checks off box two of the swimsuit mystic code’s abilities, so there!

once again, I must remind you that your entire fighting style is getting others to fight for you. so if you do get surrounded, make sure you use Kinetic Jaunt to get out of there, giving you extra speed, letting you ignore opportunity attacks, and you can pass through other creatures’ spaces without using extra movement, though if you end your turn inside someone you bounce out and take damage, so don’t do that.

10. Bard 6: sixth level spirit bards get Countercharm, but better than that they also get to put on Spirit Sessions, and hour-long ritual that can be done while resting. you hang out with some catalysts for a bit and temporarily learn one spell of your choice with a level equal to or lower than the number of participants, and it has to be Divination or Necromancy. you’ll know this spell until your next long rest, and that’s also how long you’ll have to wait to do this ritual again! it’s kind of like the GSSR, but you can straight-up pick what you get!

11. Bard 7: seventh level bards get fourth level spells, like Charm Monster. Servants aren’t quite human nor beast, so this will be helpful when you try to convince a rogue servant to join your party. They’ll likely fight you anyway, but it helps.

12. Bard 8: You can use this next Ability Score Improvement to increase your Dexterity for a better AC and better skill with a knife. Geronimo hasn’t been teaching you in vain after all, it seems.

You can also use Chaldea’s translation runes whenever you wish with the spell Tongues, letting you understand and be understood no matter what languages you can speak.

13. Bard 9: Ninth level bards have a more powerful Song of Rest, granting a d8 of healing each rest. You can also cast fifth level spells, like Greater Restoration, for a more powerful Debuff Cleanse effect.

14. Bard 10: At tenth level, you quite appropriately gain a d10 for your Bardic Inspiration, unlocking two more possible tales.

On a nine, you will summon Spartacus, the Brute. your target will force a strength saving throw on every creature it wishes near it, and on a failed save they take thunder damage and are knocked prone.

On a 10, you will summon Jeanne d’Arc Alter, the Dragon witch. The creature of your choosing makes a breath weapon attack in a 30’ cone, dealing fire damage to creatures in the area.

Just as thrilling, you gain access to Magical Secrets, two spells you can learn from any spell list. We have assumed your “servants” for this build so far have been other players, but if you would like to go it alone, make sure you pick up some summoning spells like Conjure Elemental and Summon Celestial. You won’t be able to concentrate on most of your buffs while summoning a servant this way, but sometimes an extra body is just as valuable as any spell.

You also gain the Mage Hand cantrip, signifying you have been truly accepted by mage society. Whether that is a good thing or not is up to you.

Finally, you get another round of Expertise in Deception and History, making lying to Kiyohime easier, and also alerting you to the need to lie to her ahead of time.

15. Bard 11: Normally, an 11th level bard would gain a sixth level spell, but we don’t care for any of them. Instead, you can use Dream to slip into one of your servants’ dreamscapes, helping them with their inner turmoil. Or you can enter the dream of a foe and torment him, causing him to lose the benefits of that long rest and possibly turning him to your side if you play your cards right.

16. Bard 12: Use your last Ability Score Improvement to improve your Strength, looks like all those lessons from Leonidas have finally paid off!

17. Bard 13: Thirteenth level bards have an even stronger Song of Rest, but you are more likely here for the seventh level spell. I actually lied about not wanting a sixth level spell earlier, we just wanted to slow down Ritsuka’s spell progression even further than it already is. This time, pick up Mass Suggestion to sway entire groups of servants to your cause at once! You should have ninth level slots at this point, so if you suggest that twelve servants be your best friends forever and they all fail their wisdom saves, they will come back to Chaldea with you for a year and a day, or until an ally damages the creature. But that will still be more than enough time to win them to your cause, I am sure of it.

18. Bard 14: At 14th level, you gain a Mystical Connection, allowing you to roll twice instead of once on the spirit table and take either roll. If you roll the same number twice, you can choose any effect instead. This both improves the usefulness of the story gacha, and gives you access to the last two tales without having to improve your Inspiration Die.

If you choose 11, you will summon Brynhildr, the Angel. The target you choose regains HP, and you can end one condition they’re suffering from.

If you choose 12, you will summon Abigail, the Mind-Bender. This forces an intelligence save on your target, or they take psychic damage and become stunned for a round. On top of that, you get another round of Magical Secrets for two more spells of your choice.

Conjure Volley will let you temporarily summon an Archer-class servant to dish out a volley of arrows, water, bullets, servants, or swords, dealing damage in a wide area. Death Ward finally gives you access to a Guts-like ability, preventing a creature from dropping to 0 HP or instant death once in the next eight hours.

We are now almost done collecting mystic codes, but we will have to move back to sorcerer for two final abilities.

19. Sorcerer 5: Fifth level sorcerers can use their Sorcery Points to gain Magical Guidance, rerolling a failed skill check. They also gain third level spells such as Dispel Magic and Protection from Energy, though we are here directly for Haste to reduce allies’ cooldowns. It will also give them doubled speed, advantage on dexterity saves, increased AC, and an Extra Action with caveats. Also, they will have to take a turn to recover after the spell ends, making it all the more important that you stay safe!

20. Sorcerer 6: Sixth level clockwork souls become a Bastion of Law, letting you spend sorcery points to create a ward around you or another creature. When the warded creature takes damage, they can spend ward points to roll that many d8s to reduce the damage. It isn’t quite invincibility, especially at level 20, but it is still very useful.

We are also here to pick up one last mystic code ability, Counterspell. With this, you can counter enemy magic, blocking their buffs. Or their Noble Phantasms, if you don’t mind breaking character.

Pros and Cons

Pros:

as a caster, you have a little bit of everything. summons, healing, buffs, abjuration, damage, utility, and even mind control! if something needs doing, odds are you can at least lend a hand. and that’s all before we even bring in your bard tales, giving you even more leverage and random little ways to help.

you also bring all that and more to skills too! you have at least half proficiency with everything, the ability to ignore disadvantage on command, and then you can add advantage back in with luck, and even if that fails you can re-roll with magical guidance too. You turn disadvantage into rolling three times and picking the best number. let that sink in.

we also have to give a shoutout specifically to your charisma skills as well, with double proficiency in deception and persuasion, as well as a maxed-out charisma score and all those bonuses we went over in pro #2? it would be weirder if you ever manage to fail a check again.

Cons:

you’re not exactly a powerhouse damage-wise. it’s a good thing you’ve got some superfriends to back you up, because if you had to take on anything by yourself, you’d be a little bit screwed.

most of your abilities have decent reusability, but since we spend so much time as a bard you don’t have a lot of Sorcerer Points to go around, and those are useful for your skill checks, extended magic, and of course your Bastion of Law. Thankfully, you can burn higher spell slots for extra points, but that’s only because…

you don’t have any high-level magic since we multiclassed. don’t get me wrong, I love this build, but Wish blows everything else out of the water. (And we certainly didn’t help by deliberately keeping you from a seventh level spell.)

But of course, Ritsuka isn’t supposed to be the powerhouse here. ascend your servants and let them do the heavy lifting while you frantically search for a way forward. I mean, strategize. because you definitely have a plan.

#fgo #fate grand order #D&D 5e #DND #ritsuka fujimaru #sorcerer #bard

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goingrampant · 1 year

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The Boys #1 notes: cover to page 2

Alright, so The Boys was written by Garth Ennis, a man who hates genres and tries to end them with satirical fiction. The Boys is his attempt to end superhero comics. Alan Moore previously attempted that with Watchmen by portraying everything with deadly seriousness. Obviously, he failed and Watchmen was ultimately subsumed into the DC universe, but his effort shows genuine human empathy as comes from understanding the genre, recognizing how people actually behave, and presenting something people would develop a real emotional response to. Garth Ennis basically shits all over that and that's what The Boys is: Watchmen covered in shit. I don't usually get so graphic, but the sheer repugnance of The Boys demands a bit of rhetorical oomph.

Darick Robertson does the illustration. He also deserves some of the blame for making everything look like a fascist's satirical representation of degenerate art.

The first issue, released in October 2006, is given the appropriate title "This Is Going to Hurt".

Cover: Oooh, we're so edgy! Look at these tough guys and one girl ready to beat up the viewer in a bit of gangland violence. You'd have to be a reeeaaal tough guy to read it, right?!

Title page: A parody of Greg Rucka's Wonder Woman: The Hiketeia's depiction of Wonder Woman stepping on Batman's head, here distorted into a gross image of a boot (Butcher) stamping down on the face of a Captain America knockoff (Soldier Boy) and seriously mashing up his face in horrific gore. Like, this is completely unnecessary, just "Oooh, we're edgy!" to start off the edgelord book and let you know you're in for an edgy time.

Thematically, it nods to the communist idea of the working class rebelling against the oppressive capitalist class. Butcher's boot is the working class leather lace-up used as a symbol of the hard-working common man often seen in communist propaganda. However, it's also consistent with fascist art about a Volkish uprising against Jewish elites (national socialism borrowing various actual socialist concepts and grafting them to far-right antisemitism). A lot of stuff in The Boys feels fascist-friendly, if not centering them as the target demographic.

The title card tells us this arc is called "The Name of the Game: Part One".

Pages 1-2: We're introduced to Billy Butcher, an assholish looking black leather-clad man on a park bench with his bulldog named Terror. For some reason, female The Boys fans love this dog. Like, they love this dog. I guess he's kind of cute before Butcher reveals how he's trained him, but... I don't get it.

Butcher looks up at some superheroes flying overhead and pledges to get revenge on one of them (Homelander), calling him a "cunt". Now, the word "cunt" has different levels of obscenity in the U.S. vs. the U.K. In the U.K., it means something like "asshole" and is regularly used against men, while in the U.S., it's a misogynistic slur exclusively used against women with the connotation that they're only valuable for sex and shouldn't be considered real people. I think if a man were to call another man a "cunt" in the U.S., it might be taken as a rape threat because the concept of being used for penetration is bound up in it.

Butcher is a working class man from England, so he can use "cunt" in the freer way, but I really get the sense that Ennis (from the U.K. himself) specifically included a character from this demographic so that he could get away with plastering the pages with what American readers would read as a misogynistic slur. It's set in America and marketed to Americans. Ooh, edgy!

Now, what Butcher says is "I'm gonna fuckin' have you, you cunt." With the American connotation, that sounds like a rape threat. Our hero, everyone, starting things off with a rape threat.

Something I'm going to be saying a lot is "The show spins this progressively." The show is genius, finding the good parts in the dung heap. The "cunt" thing is spun in an interesting way commentating on American culture, challenging notions of obscenity, and fits into a pattern of musing on gender roles. Thank you, Rebecca Sonnenshine.

Next time... page 3!

#the boys notes #sexism #oooh edgy!#loose communist themes #sus fashy content #queue and i are one forever

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altairtalisman · 10 months

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Mashe's Bio

"Time, you say? What a priceless currency, and yet one worthless all the same~ Mashe will still take it though!"

More details on Mashe is under the cut

Name: Mashe

Age: 3696

Height: 157 cm

Birthday: 15 Itis 1674 BZ (Ebhi) [self-declared]

Orientation: Queer

Pronouns: None, uses name in place of pronouns

Species: Chronoven (formerly human)

Title: The Second Hour

Country of Birth: Roxanza

Likes: Jewellery, flowy clothing, hourglasses, caramel

Dislikes: Shoes, fungi, marionette demons

Hobbies: Escape room puzzles, building sandcastles, playing card games

Personality: A free-spirit, Mashe's always in a cheery mood and likes to go wherever Mashe pleases. With a flair for dramatics, Mashe's usually the one lightening the mood even when the situation is far from appropriate. Perhaps similar to Ma Li, Mashe's personality can be attributed to longevity reasons… though Mashe's much more empathetic than others credit Mashe for

Style: Flowy clothing that allows Mashe to freely move about and spin in, also wears bangles around Mashe's wrists and ankles, with the ones around Mashe's wrists containing scarab beetles carved from turquoise

Abilities: Able to freely cross between Ratein and the Astral Realm without the need of dimension gates. Is able to use cosmic magic, stop time, view events happening in the past, present and future, as well as cause anything that Mashe's weapon comes in contact with to 'dissociate' from existence (apart from chronovens, The Caretaker and The Artiste)

Like the rest of the Hourly Twelve, Mashe is also able to open portals that allow Mashe to travel anywhere. Also able to reverse time, but only once and at the cost of Mashe's life. Being a chronoven, Mashe's only able to die either by Mashe's lifespan naturally running out, or by time reversal

For reasons unknown, Mashe possesses the ability to create cosmic scarabs that serve Mashe, and can only be 'dismissed' by Mashe

Background: Growing up as an orphan, Mashe quickly learnt how to survive living in Roxanza's markets. As the tombs of the Roxanzan rulers were filled to the brim with treasure, Mashe deduced that if Mashe could get hold of even one item from their tombs, Mashe could spend the rest of Mashe's life in comfort

At 17 years old, the then-Roxazan ruler suddenly died, with the cause officially announced as 'the gods calling him to join them'. Mashe found this announcement to be ridiculous as not only was the belief of deities far-fetched to Mashe, Mashe had witnessed Criden happily snacking on his soul. While waiting for the ruler to be buried, Mashe decided to steal a few items of seemingly no value from the market in hopes of tricking some hapless tourist into buying said items

One of the items successfully stolen was a meteorite necklace of unknown origin, and Mashe decided that the necklace was a favourite as Mashe liked the coloured beads. After two months, the ruler was officially sealed in his tomb, which meant that Mashe had the opportunity to sneak into his tomb to steal whatever Mashe could find

Mashe enacted the plan a month after the official sealing, deftly navigating the tomb despite not knowing its layout. Mashe could only find two sets of bronze bangles and his ceremonial dagger buried with him, which disappointed Mashe as there was nothing else of value. Furthermore, the bangles were the signature jewellery of the late ruler, which meant that if Mashe tried to sell them, everyone would know that Mashe had raided his tomb and be put to death

Deciding to go back the way Mashe came, Mashe was about to leave the area when Mashe heard faint rumbling sounds coming from where Mashe entered. Hurriedly, Mashe made their way back to the entry point when Mashe realised that the rocks were closing shut, which meant that Mashe would be sealed in if Mashe didn't escape in time

Dashing towards the exit, Mashe was about to leap out of the exit but failed as the rocks slammed against each other, trapping Mashe inside the tomb. Determined to leave, Mashe sought other ways out of the tomb, including ordering stray beetles to dig a hole out of the tomb as well as using the dagger to chip Mashe's way out. After a while, Mashe started to cough out blood and Mashe realised that the tomb contained foreign fungi for the ruler was well-known to be a mycophile and he was most definitely buried with his collection

Slumping down against a wall, Mashe coughed out even more blood and wished that Mashe had just a few seconds in order to escape the tomb. The necklace suddenly glowed, seemingly acceding to Mashe's wish. Mashe then felt as though Mashe was burnt alive, Mashe's hair slowly but surely weighing down on Mashe. While in pain, Mashe's left eye felt as though Mashe was branded, and was terrified as Mashe broke up and reformed in a galaxy

After an eternity, Mashe was approached by a humanoid resembling a cluster of colours and stars. She soon introduced herself as Alexia of the Eternal Hour, the sole chronoven. Mashe, curious to who Alexia was, asked her about her title. Alexia shared that chronovens came to be when a human in possession of one of the 12 meteorite necklaces made a genuine wish related to time, and that these humans transcended to an existence that was no longer human

Mashe then jokingly asked if it meant that Mashe was now considered a deity, to which Alexia replied yes as in a sense, they were both in control over time and space, concepts that no species, save for celestials, understood. She then continued to explain that there used to be 12 chronovens including her, but due to reasons, she was the only one left

Realising that Alexia was actually lonely, Mashe declared to be her new friend and to find more people like them so that Alexia could have a family of chronovens, something that Mashe always wanted to have. Mashe then asked Alexia why didn't she go back in time to prevent the previous chronovens' reasons from occurring, which prompted her to explain that in order to reverse time, it meant giving up their existence as a chronoven was using their lifespan to reverse time

Alexia added that Mashe should have gained an exclusive chronoven ability related to Mashe, which delighted the latter as Mashe couldn't wait to play with said ability. Alexia laughed, informing Mashe that since the latter was a chronoven, Alexia was now the First Hour and the latter the Second Hour. This made Mashe's day, for now Mashe had an eternity to comfortably live for without worrying about money while learning more about the full extent of a chronoven's abilities...

True Form:

#Hallowed Hotel #Mashe #tw eyestrain #tw death mention #Altair draws

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equalseleventhirds · 2 years

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i am currently made of jello but most of my drowsiness from meds i slept off and mom says it's my turn to make a rec list of Other TTRPGS To Play

skipping over some stuff i've seen recced several times (like bitd) bcos everyone knows that already, gotta do other stuff

Familiars Of Terra - play as a human hero and their magical animal companion, traveling across a post-post-apocalyptic world and bringing healing in your wake. genuinely hopeful game, can take a turn for the dark fairly easily but generally cathartic, absolutely astounding amount of lore & worldbuilding. mechanics on the crunchier side, enough to provide interesting character building & good structure for gameplay, but not too-too crunchy, u kno? card-based.

Dwindle - magical cyberpunk in a virtual city that is slowly fading away. focus on community and fighting back against the big corporations leeching away at your city, because maybe you can't stop it dying, but you can damn well try. fairly rules-light and allows a lot of room for interpretation, has unusual dice mechanics that get really very fun when you get into them.

The Dark Below - you want a spooky dungeon crawl? we got a spooky dungeon crawl! exiled from the city above for crimes most arbitrary (as the rules up there are... subject to change), you must make your way through the strange and twisted tunnels of the dark below. those who make it through and find the exit have their exiles ended and can return to their lives, but first they must survive the darkness...... (also if u die/fall to the dark u can elect to join the gm's side and get spooky with it. wanna haunt the narrative? fuck yeah.)

Trophy - speaking of spooky! trophy dark is all about treasure hunters heading unwittingly for their own doom. put yourself at risk, lean into the darkness, betray your companions, and gradually change to suit the whims of the dark forest. trophy gold is adjusted to be a little less doom and a little more adventure. there are also many many MANY trophy dark incursions out there (modules/hacks ppl have made all ready for u to play)

Bubblegum Wizards 2 - in a mixed-up interdimensional sprawl of a city, an infinite number of worlds are mashed together. out of all of them, you are wizards, casting spells with bubblegum and trading cards, hanging out at the magical corner store, and surviving in a sometimes hostile, sometimes beautiful, always deeply weird city.

Godeater - the gods are dead and dying. they are also enormous quantum-magical places sprawled across the world; within them are worlds all their own, also dead and dying, and releasing all kinds of fucked-up dangers as they do so. most people survive in the spaces between them, just barely; you are godeaters, people who venture into these twisted worlds to bring back the magic necessary for survival and growth--bits of the gods themselves. (godeater 2 now out!)

this is now so so long so a few others:

Spindlewheel - tarot-based storytelling

Songs for the Dusk - hopepunk forged in the dark

Glitter Hearts - magical girls time

Songbirds - knights help dragons deal with their feelings~

See You, Space Cowboy - cowboy bebop the game

Dark Designs in Verdigris - adventure through a fallen oz

Weasel Overdrive - be a magical noir sorta person in an uncaring cyberpunk metropolis

Weird Weird West - the wild west, but weird. c'mon.

have i got more games than this? you betcha!!! this was just a skim through some of the games i could think of off the top of my head. y'all there are so many. so many.

#algie talks ttrpgs #i will never ever play every game there is to play but i lov them so many #lotta ppl makin game rec lists i gotta also do it. i gotta. i GOTTA.#maybe i will do more game rec later if i remember more. u kno.

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wickedsrest-rp · 1 year

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Name: Jazmine "Jazz" Markham Species: Human (Non-powered) Occupation: Scribe Age: 29 Years Old Played By: Meek Face Claim: LaKeith Stanfield

"No, I don't take this seriously at all. What’s your point?."

TW: Racism

“Jazz” was born in a small Texas town in the early 90’s to a prizefighter for a father and an accountant for a Mother. His parents divorced as he was still breastfeeding and he lived with his mother. He never knew any different so not having his father around didn’t bother him much. He is the great-grandson of comedian “Pigmeat” Markham. The legacy of Pigmeat was… “controversial” to say the least. It was a legacy that Jazz wished he could forget about. But how he felt about his great-grandfather wasn’t important to his parents and from an early age it was stressed to him that he ought to be a comedian. He didn’t care too much for being funny and inevitably being compared to his Great-Grandfather. He would rather follow in his father's prizefighting footsteps. His father also had quite the reputation of being a “Ladies man”. “Socializing” with so many women, just like his father, became his main focus; second only to boxing. His main goals in life became as toxic as his father and great-grandfather before him. Dating as many women as possible without regard to their emotions or humanity; and knocking out anyone who stood in his way. It was apparent from an early age that he wasn’t going down the path of a good person. While most kids were playing with trading cards he was doing his best to convince a girl to be his girlfriend. And if she said she had a boyfriend he’d find him and mash his face into the dirt. As he grew older his toxicity grew with him. His ego grew as big as a mountain. After graduating high school with an undefeated amateur boxing record he decided to forgo the Olympic trials and become a professional fighter. He figured it would be the easiest way to continue meeting more women to date. The money he earned hardly concerned him beyond using it to woo another woman every week. After a string of 1st round KO wins he made the ill-advised decision to accept a fight against an opponent that was far too experienced and more than a couple weight classes above him. He left the ring battered, humiliated, and unconscious on a stretcher. He vowed to fight again however, before he could step into the ring again the news of a broken hand suffered in his last fight not healing properly stopped his career in its tracks. After a bit of therapy he discovered his knack for being incredibly funny. He had made people laugh before but now it felt different. He began going to open mics and finding spots in vaudeville shows to practice. He was so heavily consumed by comedy that his goals of becoming a prolific ladies man faded into the background. He accepted what he saw as fate and began a career as a comedian and comedy writer. Before long he grew weary of the confines of his home and decided to head out on a road trip to find a new place to call home. He drove all over the country but eventually settled on the town of Wicked’s Rest. A town he had never heard of but the suspiciously low rent of a cottage near some quiet woods made him decide to give it a try. Besides, he figured the place could use a laugh or two and the road trip had very nearly depleted his funds. The town was a bit eerie and whispers of fairies and monsters made him chuckle. He met a sexy, spooky local at a coffee shop for what he assumed would be a date. They talked to Jazz non-stop about magical creatures and in an attempt to relate Jazz pulled what knowledge he had about fae out of his butt. He was convincing enough that after a few days he was contacted by someone who called themselves a “Scribe”. They wanted Jazz to be a Scribe as well but he wasn’t interested. At least he wasn’t until they told him the salary and benefits. Writing about Halloween monsters as if they were real? Sounded like an easy enough gig he thought. But everyone talking about these creatures as if they were real was a bit off-putting. But hey, it would pay the rent right? He’d lied to get jobs before but being an expert on “pixies” may have been a step too far.

Character Facts:

Personality: Playful, dishonest, insensitive, flirtatious, dysphoric, loquacious, non-committal, lazy

An accomplished amateur boxer but a broken hand derailed his career shortly after turning professional.

Great-Grandson of late comedian "Pigmeat" Markham.

Would rather make someone laugh than have a fight.

Very tough and physically strong (still very much a non-powered human).

#retired

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thedosianexplorer · 2 years

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Hagging Out - Veneration

This is a prose-only entry this month (click here for the adorable prequel image) and it is late because, well, *gestures at this human existence in 2022 America*. I haven’t shared my writing in some time but it is one of the many ways I venerate privately. Content mentions for US current events re: the Club Q/Pulse shootings, Supreme Court rulings, the general experience of being a queer American and former Catholic. Other relevant content mentions are in the tags below!

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Veneration used to mean a holy water font booked to the door, laminated prayer cards, statues of Mary that were given to the students who learned their catechism the fastest, the clack of rosary beads. Plastic, wood, metal, semiprecious stones. Clouds of incense wreathing our church calendar and our photo of Pope John Paul II. These things were in my childhood home to remind me that down the road was the church, and we had to show that we acted like we were in that church always. God, the Son, the Spirit, Mary, all the angels and saints, and the host of beloved dead. The Church Triumphant trumpeting loudly onto focus on every room. I made my first shrine this way, to Mary. Besides the obligatory Precious Moments crucifix nailed to my wall (yes, really, these exist), my shrines were to her, my prayers to her, and besides her, the saints, the Spirit, and the angels preoccupied me. I am proud to be an apostate of my old faith, but I was born on a Marian feast and she of any of them can find me still. Now she just has to share space.

My shrines are one of the first things you see walking into my home. They’re like comfortable seats for surprise visits from friends or older relatives. Veneration is still an act, but it no longer feels like a graded performance. This is my home and my temple. My gods know where to find me.

It is the first day of November and my partner is in the worst pain I have ever seen him in, which is saying something about a man for whom subluxations are a frequent enemy. Frigg finds me in the medicine cabinet pulling together the medications that can stand in for the stronger stuff in a pinch. Her light is a thrum across my shoulders as I call dentists, wrangle insurance, make sure there is enough food in the fridge. I often ask Her to help me find abundance and work with it. Patience yields a lead, an open appointment later in the week when every other clinic won't be open until March. The clinic opens doors with a referral, a consultation just five weeks away. The medications start to work. At Frigg’s altar (my kitchen) I mash up leftovers of beef stew and stir in dried basil I grew for Her.

Freyja has another cat for me and this one looks like he’s here to stay. I take care of the outdoor cats as a devotional act because She has kept mine safe. I’ve rehomed many strays over the years and gotten young ferals used to human company. Cryptid came to me just before Samhain two years ago, and this year the Sunday after Samhain my partner found a little black kitten curled against our porch. Within minutes, my partner decided. “His name is Zagreus.” It was the afternoon before the temperatures would drop below freezing at night, and he was barely weaned. His eyes were still blue and he clung to us immediately. I brought him up to Her shrine to say hello, and to ask for help getting him to the vet. As it happened, there was an opening at the same time I had to drop Cryptid off for surgery (this is an exceptionally rare occurrence at my vet). He is healthy, and the other cats have accepted him and taught him their catlore with a readiness that surprised us both veteran cat owners. He’s sleeping next to me now, and his eyes are turning a brilliant amber.

Cryptid’s surgery comes on a Wednesday, Odin’s day. I offer strong coffee for safe travels and our Lyft drivers are swift- they even wore masks! I am wrung-out with anxiety but of all my gods he understands that. Even though I ache through with stress and the toll of new kitten energy I feel cajoled to a Wednesday night walk, my usual ritual with him. I go, and go, and walk farther than I expected, and the old man smiles with a gift: a pristinely kept, solid wood and wrought iron coffee table the perfect height for my reading chair just… placed under a streetlight by the dumpster. He has left other gifts this way- a natural quartz point smoothed with years of rain, a solid copper candle-holder, and now this ideal replacement for the table that just broke. I whisper, “Odin give me strength” and somehow I can heft this heavy thing all the way home.

Macha is who I turn to when I am tired of running or being beholden to the whims of unjust rulers. She knows the burdens of both well. Until February (or longer), all of my student loans are forgiven now but a single Trump-appointed judge in Texas just decided to derail the already delayed day that forgiveness comes to pass. Now it’s up to the Supreme Court who have already decided to curtail my rights in other ways to decide. I didn’t have much to talk about with Her besides that coming right after the midterms, but I was glad to have Her shrine to stop at and catch my breath.

The Transgender Day of Remembrance falls on a Sunday, Hel’s day in my home. Each year I write the names, light the candles, sing the death songs, and this year it comes early. The news from Colorado Springs finds me in 2022, about to sleep, and in 2016, in the memory of too-bright hotel sunlight. The way of the gods is not linear and neither is grief. In my bedroom my partner and I check on friends and pray. I remember the Sunday morning when the joyful frenzy of AnimeNext fell silent with 49 names from Pulse. Hel is there as I walk the convention floor and listen to a mother’s worry that she wants her teens to be safe wearing those flags with their costumes. I do not tell her that my family doesn’t know I’m queer, that this is the first time I have heard a mother want her children to be out and proud. I tell her something but the words are lost with the sight of her daughter watches the doors behind her friends’ backs and fidgeting with the flag draped over her shoulders. Hel guides me home, bone-white and corpse-blue, cloaked in late autumn fog. She is with me, cemetery silent, in the late hours of grief. For hours I weep for people I will never know. She is much larger than I, and shoulders the weight of what I cannot. I make crockpot applesauce spiked with red wine and honey to warm us both.

Badb is never far. She found me first, before I knew Her by name. I can find Her in rage, in fear, in triumph. This month has brought it all in plenty. I offer pomegranate wine and angrily wrest my peace back from all that subdues it. She is with the part of me that is left when I think there are no more logs to toss on the fire, the choice in every ember to catch or snuff out entirely. She guides the discernment to see which is needed.

Mórrígan shares war wisdom and cold comfort as I wait on hold with insurance to remind them that, yes, I do still need the medication I’ve been prescribed since birth and yes, that medication I have taken every day for the past twelve years too. I pour out the acid in the pit of my stomach and imagine it full of the chilly cave water that runs through Her fit abode. I drink my ice water and the panic attack passes. A crow flies overhead as I walk the several miles to the pharmacy. I spoke up and my medication is the cheapest it’s been in years. I honor Her with the victory.

Loki popped in the last Tuesday of November to tell us that if we didn’t take a fucking break we’d keel over. By which I mean, we found ourselves with a massive Postmates coupon, a rainy drizzle, toasty pajamas, our massive beanbag chair and five cats that want nothing more to hibernate with us. I usually bake with them but as tired as I am, I know he enjoyed the heaping portion of tiramisu and cannolis. Even though we only had a few free hours that night it felt like a whole day of rest.

#witchy things #hagging out #alcohol mention #food mention #homophobia #us current events #pagan #norse heathenry

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