#this was made with bren in mind

[hello-eeveev]

Now that Bells Hells know that Caleb is Essek’s partner, this seems like the perfect time to share the lists of things bh knew about Essek, Caleb, and Essek’s partner that I compiled in order to write Above All (and continued to compile afterwards). I focused pretty strictly on what was confirmed explicitly by the text, but there are a few notes outlining what I thought might be reasonable extrapolations for the Bells Hells to make that would lead to them linking Essek and Caleb in their minds. Enjoy!

What Bells Hells Know About Caleb Widogast:

- Chetney, Orym, Imogen, Laudna, and Ashton met him and Beau at the Tishtan Excavation Site

^ c3 names Caleb knows: Laudna, Chetney (wolf form only)

- He wears a deep purple scarf (that info is just for me tho)

- allied with planerider ryn

- friend to the grim verity

- has been following Ludinus for many years with the intent of taking him and his inner circle down

- was part of the team that damaged the shadowfell key

- has been up against other Cerberus Assembly membys

- he used the word dunamis, but they have no clue what that is. they ask, and he gives them a very basic rundown (note to self: compare to Essek’s?)

- Obscure reference to the beacon that aligns with what Essek says in 95, but there’s like, nooooo chance they could put that together. also not a defining characteristic.

- has “someone on the inside [of the assembly]” who had to back away

- seemed to know a lot about the Cerberus Assembly

- admitted thorn in Ludinus’s side for quite some time, to the point that Ludinus uses his first name and wanted to gloat about his victory to him (and Beau) specifically

- metagame knowledge that Beau is with the cobalt soul, thus aligning Caleb with them

- using context clues, they correctly assumed origin is Wildemount, Dwendalian Empire

- Allura is familiar with him. some of his and Beau’s allies have been in contact (Essek???) (probably cobalt soul let’s be real) (but Essek did say he was an ally to the exandrian accord, so it’s not impossible that he has made some contact with allura, whether she knows of Essek or not)

- Zemnian (presumed by accent, usage of “nein” and “ja”)

- Had Jester relay messages via Sending (either doesn’t have sending, doesn’t have it prepared, or no spell slots)

- sent an archivist of the cobalt soul to escort them to Aeor

^ extrapolating backwards: Keyleth said that she would contact someone who had researched in Aeor, and when this person was unavailable, she said they would send an archivist in their stead.

^^ this archivist was Seth Domade, who was announced as “sent by a Widogast.”

^ extrapolating forwards: Seth is revealed to be Essek. Therefore, Essek and Caleb know each other and have both researched Aeor.

- is Essek’s partner :)

What Bells Hells Know About Essek Thelyss’s Partner:

- Zemnian (presumed by “gesundheit. I learned that from my partner as well.”)

- has followed/is following the Cerberus Assembly’s machinations

- told Essek a bit about Predathos, implying that this partner is privy to information that is largely kept hidden away

- kind and smart and so strong (of heart)

- Essek talks to him before bed

^ could we make an extrapolation that Essek wanting to preserve spell slots to talk to his partner implies that this partner does not have access to Sending? It’s a bit of a stretch, and not one I think any of the bells hells would be able to make with their limited knowledge of the mechanics of magic beyond their own capabilities

- was with Essek in Aeor when Essek got wild magicked into a fish

- carried Essek while he was a fish

- is “one hell of a person” (paraphrase of Ashton, confirmed by Essek)

- has a tangled history with the Assembly

- is a man

- a powerful practitioner of the magical arts

- teaches on occasion

- his name is Bren (Essek what do you mean, I’m going to kill you)

- is very intelligent

- would have brought the Bells Hells to Aeor but he was busyyy

- is Caleb Widogast :)

What Bells Hells Know About Essek Thelyss

- sent by Caleb

^ whether or not they were paying attention to that fact is up for debate, but it’s possible, and the information was available to them

- disguised as a Cobalt Soul archivist

- fugitive

- formerly of the Kryn Dynasty

- is the reason Ludinus has access to as much dunamantic knowledge as he does

- reformed in his dubiousness

- first name basis with an assembly member, but doesn’t like the assembly

^ tbf Astrid doesn’t seem to like many members of the assembly either

^ Astrid only cooperated with the interrogation because of Essek’s connection to an old friend

- has been to Aeor, and the genesis ward specifically (we know why)

- defaced a bit of Aeor :)

- used to manage a dynasty outpost in Eiselcross

- turned into a fish in Aeor

- has a tangled history with the Assembly

Side note: Caleb, Allura, and Essek’s explanations of dunamis [50, 76, and 95, respectively] share a lot of similarities in structure and verbiage. And Allura mentioned that she has compatriots more knowledgeable about dunamis and the Dynasty [76], which just makes me fully believe that Allura knows Essek too, not just Caleb.

[brenhotapplepies]

Seen some stuff about Astrid being problematic in the same breath as praising Essek. I know media literacy is tough, but let’s examine.

How is Astrid problematic and Essek isn’t? They both are manipulative when it’s called for. Both are capable of lying, killing, and other untold horrors. Both are incredibly powerful.

One has had a lonely by choice and privileged life as the weird but useful son of the head of a Den.

One has had their identity stripped from them in a way that combines the worst of cults and the military. Tortured, experimented on, changed in ways we don’t even know the extent of.

One has had the pressure of his Den, his mother, his father, his brother, his whole community pressing on him his whole life. He stepped up into the air and took the weight as if it was effortless. He focused his life on study because it was the only thing that gave him worth in this society and it was genuinely what he enjoyed, whatever enjoyment was for him then. He had access to materials, books, almost anything.

One has had the pressure of her community, her background, in her face as she tried to beat the odds. The expectations for her were nothing, but she said fuck that. She studied with nothing, clawed her way into the venerated halls of higher magic learning. She does everything for the Empire, for Trent. She wants success for herself, because that is what gets her approval, keeps her safe.

One is in a position of power in his society. He has the ability to pull strings. He doesn’t think about how his actions impact his community or really anything besides himself. Sure maybe he wants to find something to impair the religion in the region, but it feels like even that starts out as a quest to prove himself right. His life is largely his own, despite the derision of some.

One is continuously tortured, tested, forced to PROVE herself. Cut her hair, stomp out any resistance to her mentor through any means necessary. Find some solace in their two peers. Made to kill their family to prove themselves based on a lie. She is conditioned to fight because who else will protect her country in the dirty, dark ways she has to? She is trying to salvage her sacrifices into a purpose. Bren is one of those sacrifices.

One kills indiscriminately if they get in his way. The man the Nein dropped off at the peace talks? I still remember how sad it was as he tried to piece together his broken mind, a mind Essek broke to save himself.

One kills for their country. Follows orders, kills when they find it necessary to protect those who cannot protect themselves. This is what she believes.

One GAVE AWAY a powerful religious artifact to HIS PEOPLE’S ENEMY. The intent was purely selfish curiosity.

One helped protect and study that artifact to PROTECT her country. The intent is curiosity to assist in her job, protect her country.

One finds the strength to allow himself to be loved and have friends after years of solitude. Because he just never was so fully loved. He finds the strength to let the ultimate time travel power and the knowledge that he was right go. To become comfortable with time he has left.

One finds the strength to listen to one of the only real, genuine relationships she’s ever had. Her first love. A reminder of her younger, hopeful self. She changes. She realizes the lies she’s allowed herself to believe. She finds the strength to not kill her torturer just to kill him. She finds the strength to testify. To promise that no other kids will suffer. Justice. To become comfortable with the time she has left.

One is a he.

One is a she/they.

I wonder what the issue is.

These characters are two sides of the same coin. They are both INCREDIBLY WELL THOUGHT OUT characters. They are more than just paramours of Caleb Widogast.

[callsign-rogueone]

allies - b.s.

cadet!Brennan Sorrengail x cadet!reader (part of my Brennan and Duchess series!) ✉: Would you mind telling us how they got each others attention in Basgiath? What made them fall for each other in the first place? words: 801 🏷: no book spoilers and no triggers! just bb bren and duchess meeting in year one at gauntlet training + a little happy moment from threshing day (and some info that will be relevant later in their story hehe). italics are spoken in Tyrrish!

Your foot slips out from underneath you, and there’s no recovering from it -- you’re falling. You manage to grab onto the nearest rope, the rough fibers burning your skin as they slide through your hands. Your descent slows, but you still hit the ground hard enough to wind you. You lie flat on your back for a moment as you attempt to catch your breath, just grateful to be alive.

A familiar face enters your vision; a boy in your wing whose name you can’t remember. He’s cute, his hair falling over his forehead in soft waves as he leans down, light brown eyes watching you with concern. “Are you okay?”

You blink at him, stunned at the sound of the words you’ve only ever heard from your parents. How hard had you hit your head? “You speak the old language.”

He nods in confirmation that you’re not losing your grip on reality. “My father taught me. The ancient languages are a passion of his.” His pronunciation could use some work, but he’s got the vocabulary down. 

He extends an ink-stained hand, and you take it, letting him pull you to your feet. 

“How did you know I was Tyrrish? That I spoke the language?”

He blushes, suddenly shy. “I saw you use it to write your notes for Battle Brief. And your hair. I’ve only seen braids like that on portraits of the old queens in history books. It’s beautiful.”

Your cheeks warm at the compliment -- Tyrrish doesn’t have the same parts of speech or grammatical structure as Navarrian, so his use of it, likely referring to your intricate hairstyle, could have very well been him calling you beautiful in your entirety.

“Thank you,…” you hesitate, trying to remember his name — he keeps to himself, and he’s never been a threat to you, so you had never learned it.

“Brennan,” he offers. A good name. Strong. 

You smile at him. “Nice to meet you, Brennan.”

The crisp accent you say his name in stirs something in his chest.

For a moment, everyone else ceases to exist. You’re the only people out here, the only two who can understand this conversation, who are aware of the magnetism between you.

You still can’t look away, both of you locked in place as you commit every detail of the other to memory; the small scar on his chin, the way his eyelashes move as he blinks at you, the light wash of freckles across his nose… the pattern of your braids, the impeccable neatness of the stitches holding your patches to your uniform, the soft curiosity in your eyes…

Something tells you to trust this boy with the soft voice who knows your language and recognized your traditions, who is looking at you like you'd hung the stars in the sky. 

“Allies?” you ask.

“Allies,” he agrees.

------------------------------------------------

You whistle across the flight field, and Brennan’s head snaps toward the sound, every muscle in his body relaxing as he spots you.

There’s a massive black dragon behind you, the largest of the group you’d seen at Presentation, the one that had taken interest in you from the start of the term. She stands with the same regal posture as you as she surveys her surroundings, appraising the rest of the freshly bonded cadets and their dragons.

You’re grinning from ear to ear, unable to contain your joy. You want nothing more than to run to Brennan and embrace him, but you keep your feet planted to the ground until you’re told to line up to have your names recorded by the scribe.

“Banriondorcha,” you state to the group of officers. A few pairs of eyebrows raise, including the General’s, but they quickly replace the concern on their faces with flat disinterest.

Professor Kaori is the first to speak, the only one who smiles at you. “I was wondering when she’d finally decide to bond. She has chosen well. I look forward to seeing your signet manifest, cadet. I have no doubt that it will be strong.”

“Thank you.”

Brennan had been ahead of you in the line; he’s already returned to his orange daggertail. They look right together, the afternoon sun bringing out the red in Brennan’s hair to compliment the dragon’s scales.

You stop ten yards away from them and lower your head in deference, not daring to speak to him directly, but it’s clear what you’re saying: you come in peace.

He steps back, allowing you to move toward Brennan.

You’re both freezing, having been wholly unprepared for the chill of the air at 3,000 feet above ground, but there’s warmth between you as you embrace, laughing in relief.

“We did it,” you breathe.

He leans down, resting his forehead against yours, a soft smile on his face. “We did.”

[qsycomplainsalot]

Lindybeige is Either an Idiot or an Asshole

Most Likely Both

--There could be more flattering ways to put it, but he's never once given us that favor so why should I. His videos are wildly speculative and often based in cherry-picked British sources, when they come with any sources at all - see his masturbatory piece about the Bren vs the “Spandau”.

--There are two videos that I absolutely loathe at the edges of my youtube recommendations, both just filled to the brim with misinformation and logical contrivances. Videos that neckbeards will endlessly quote at me without question, taking a frustratingly long amount of time to untangle by which point they'd have usually lost interest already. The first one is Shadiversity's video about boob armor, the other is Lindybeige's video about the French Resistance.

--This video will have you believe that the French Resistance on its own did nothing of worth, based in great part on the fact that De Gaulle glamorized its contribution to the war for political status. I cannot stress this enough, just because De Gaulle used the general idea of the Resistance to smooth over a lot of Vichy war crimes and restore national unity does not mean the Resistance did not exist as a capable fighting force. --The very first more specific argument he offers to support his view -if you ignore “ME AND ME PA FOUND THAT VERY FONNY”- is that most of the French armor was American-made and provided through the lend-lease policy, making French people less deserving of credit in winning World War 2. I assume that in his mind that would diminish the contribution of the French Resistance to war efforts, even though these tanks and armored fighting vehicles were used by the Free French Army, not the Resistance at any point of its existence, making the point moot while also conveniently ignoring that the United Kingdom received ten times the aid France did through that same program.

--The image is from War Thunder because it makes for a better glamor shot than having it stand behind a museum fence or in black and white.

--His next argument implies that De Gaulle was "allowed" to walk in the liberated Paris ahead of Allied troops to give a speech that solidified the myth of the Resistance I mentioned. Again, in this passing, deceptive comment, Lindybeige implies that De Gaulle walked in after the fact and that Allied forces did the heavy lifting, only allowing him to do his speech a their convenience. Even a cursory amount of research will tell you that Paris was in fact liberated by the FFI, the Parisian people themselves and Leclerc’s 2nd Armored Division composed of Metropolitan and Colonial French with Spanish elements, supported only on the very last day by the US 4th Infantry Division and a special British unit sent to gather intelligence. --Following this, he quotes the speech De Gaulle delivered in front of the town hall the day the German garrison surrendered, but cuts it short of the part in said speech mentioning “the help of our dear and admirable Allies” to then call De Gaulle ungrateful, which I have a hard time believing could be anything but intentionally deceptive. He then goes on to claim that the French Resistance was not organized by De Gaulle but by the British, justifying the ludicrous claim with 'they didn’t tell him because French intelligence services were bad and would have leaked all of it’. This is of course ignoring the fact that De Gaulle had personally sent Jean Moulin back to France for the exact purpose of organizing the five big Resistance movements into one organization, which he did, creating the Council for National Resistance that played a major role in the liberation of Paris. How the British would have any hand in this may be explained by his further comments, where he goes on to say that agents of the organization preceding the MI6 had been infiltrated in the Resistance to organize it, which begs the question of who's responsible for it being a non-effective combat force if it had been the case. He then gives us a voice in a sarcastic tone by saying, “of course you and your British bias would say that !” but does not really address it. Because honestly yeah, you and your British bias would say that.

--After quickly rambling that there were too many people in France and not enough bushes for all people to join the Resistance, which I have to admit is an extremely pointed and pertinent thing to say in a video downplaying the efforts and suffering of thousands of people fighting back against Nazi occupation under constant threat of torture and execution if caught, he mentions that the German forced labor system had severely depleted France’s manpower of fighting age. He says that by 1944, only teenagers and decrepit middle aged men were left to fight in the Resistance, to the great disappointment of the British agents he mentioned earlier. According to him, this meant France lacked the manpower and the communication capability required to pull the Resistance off, which is again contradicted by the actions of Jean Moulin, who had seemingly managed to access both before his death.

--There are a few problems with that argument. The Service de Travail Obligatoire, STO for short, was a system put in place by Vichy France to supply Germany with civilian manpower to make up for their own shortfalls due to the Eastern front. Because Vichy had negotiated a relative independence compared to other occupied country, its own government was responsible for the order, although it was in almost every point similar to forced labor orders in Denmark or the Netherlands. Now the STO did deprive France of over six hundred thousand young men, many of them skilled workers. However as an incentive given by the Nazis, every three forced laborer sent to Germany would lead to the release of one French POW, meaning that as far as manpower was concerned, France pretty much lost only four hundred thousand men and received qualified military personnel for its trouble. Not only is it hardly the manpower drain pictured by Lindybeige, it also ignores that many of these forced laborers, my grandfather included, immediately skipped work and joined either the Resistance or Allied military regulars after operation Overlord, as they were not as tightly surveilled as POWs and minorities in concentration/death camps. It also bears mentioning that it was teenagers, dismissed by Lindybeige as a negligible quantity, that acted as reconnaissance troops for the Free French using their motorbikes to scout and guide the way to the German Kommandantur. In any case, most members of the FFI integrated the regular French army after the liberation of Paris, meaning they were definitely of fighting age. Of course that whole argument is dropped as soon as he brings in British involvement, at which point he finally points out how the Resistance disabled most of the railway network and stopped the famously lightning-fast German army from facing the Allied invasion properly. For their role in this sabotage, a hundred fifty Resistance members working for the French national railway company were shot and another five hundred deported.

--To put it simply, Lindybeige dismisses the Resistance as a useless, wasteful and infighting group of functional morons, while every successful operation they carried out, every display of good mobility and coordination is attributed to British uniformed soldiers overseeing it. In reality most of that effort was done by either agents of the French government in exile or the Allied command under Eisenhower, with no account mentioning any significant autonomous British involvement which stands to reason as De Gaulle and Churchill could not stand one another. In fact Lindybeige tries to pass off operation Jedburgh as a purely British operation while it was specifically a joint one with American, British, French, Belgian and Dutch operatives all along the Atlantic coast.

--The next part is baffling. Lindybeige points at the Allies stopping their shipments of weapons to the French Resistance after July 44 and justifies it by saying the various cells were fighting each other and were uncoordinated. Thank god the Brits stopped sending arms or there would have been a civil war between these silly French Resistance members. Of course what happened in August was the liberation of Paris followed by the integration of the FFI into the new French army, which would go on to liberate the rest of the country. But Lindybeige pushes this civil war angle pretty hard, calling at this point of the video both Vichy France and the Resistance to be pro French in a way and underlining the conflicts between the two as a reason why the weapon shipments stopped coming, with examples such as Resistance members exacting reprisals against Nazi collaborators, which is a completely moot point because Vichy France and collaborators had nothing to do with the Resistance and were in fact, at this point of time, recognized as the enemy by all Allied forces, meaning acts of resistance against them would in no way prompt Allied command to stop supporting the French Resistance. Lindybeige goes so far as to say that the OSS and British secret service stopping the weapon shipments in August 1944 legitimately prevented an outright civil war between the different cells of the French Resistance, which was in actuality pretty unified in its support to De Gaulle at this point thanks to the efforts of Jean Moulin as discussed previously. This hardly gels with the events following August 1944, where the members of the Resistance and FFI were enlisted in the Free French Army and were therefore issued American military equipment and training to function as regular troops. Now stop me if I'm wrong but it appears that in Lindybeige's mind all French people were ready to tear each other apart until the British stopped sending them pipe guns, after which the Americans sent them tanks which obviously disabled their ability to start a civil war.

--Two French colonial soldiers using a blend of Allied gear during the winter of 1944-45. They are presumably thinking of killing each other.

--Much like the Phantom Menace review this is addressing a piece of media were essentially everything is wrong, hence the length of this post. Lindybeige has obviously researched the topic to great length, then ignored half of it to record 17mn of vague, dismissive and unsubstantiated claim that each take an equal amount of time to debunk. He present the facts as if everything that happened on British soil was under British orders so as to make the French Resistance only effective on their accord, all the while disregarding the French government in exile and slandering the efforts of French people but also inadvertently of the Americans. It is my honest belief that this sad excuse of an historian is either profoundly lacking in literacy or actively trying to justify his xenophobia by bending WW2 historiography around his bias, and whatever it may be he should be deplatformed to avoid spreading more harmful and disrespectful lies about a group of brave men and women who fought to liberate their country from fascism.

[wherethemagichappens]

A fic concept:

Imagine: Essek, whlie walking around a town square in Tal'Dorei during his post campaign 'travels' and overhears an older couple asking around after both a Bren Ermendrud and a Caleb Widogast, a blue eyes, red haired man in his mid 30s (or 40s depending on the time setting). Has anyone seen him? They were supposed to meet here, maybe they missed him? Somebody brushes them off or snaps at them, they've been doing this for several years once a week, then a few times a week, now almost every day... Never mind, then, they'll try again tomorrow.

He, of course immediately messages Caleb to meet him there and he explains what he's seen and heard. Essek leads Caleb to the square the following day, he breaks down. He approaches them the day after, alone at first. The story they tell him is the plan he burned with that research in Aeor.

....the 'plot'...

A different Caleb from a different timeline mada a different choice, but Una and Leofric got displaced into 'our' Caleb's timeline/reality. He made the right choice in Aeor and gets to see his parents again, talk to them, introduce him to his friends and partner, with no way to send them to the intended time line.... He just gets to have this.... (or does he try to 'fix it'? but these people have made lives for themselves here for the past 20+ years...)

Or just, what would some of the conversations look like, getting to know each other again? Meeting the gang... Meeting Essek too, would that be a harder pill to swallow, or did they change over time as well?

(if this tickles anyone's interest at all and you take inspiration from this, please share, I'd love to see/read!)

[peachesancreams]

Extended Wives

Sorry this took forever, lifes been kicking my butt and keeping me busy unfortunately so i havent ben able to have time to write, back to it tho!

Husk's Partner

To start with these two sour pusses they meet in a bar a year or two before WW2. (Husk gives me soldier vides and him enlisting to the Korean war didn't make sense, world war 2 however? made a bit more sense to me.)

The reason that they actually got married was because of their families actually. Brennan Feidlimid McKabe and Cian Aodhan O'Flaherty were both unmarried and seemed to have no plans to get with anyone anytime soon. What were their poor Irish immigrant families to do! Husk, once Cian, was raised by his immigrant grandfather and Brennans mother had been pregnant with her on the ride over to the states, basically giving birth once they'd touched American soil.

While it had been arranged Bren and Husk actually got along very well. She never really minded his heavy drinking, the most he did to her is make a pass at her and well that's more then most husbands. She didn't mind the drunken sex as Husk was a giving lover.

However she never fully put down her walls. Probably because of her parents relationship, but she never tried to get to know Husk. He was a decent man after all, but she just...was waiting for him to. Do something.

They never talked about it and though it wasn't spoken of, it was certainly the underling cause of many fights between them. The the whole world blew up in a war again, thing was they both were only teens when the first world war had broken out. They'd called it The Great War growing up thinking it'd be the only one. It was also the reason Bren's da had...changed.

Husk wanted to enlist, and while Bren could see why it was good or him to do so. She was afraid. She didn't want him to come back different like her dad did, she didn't want to finally see what kind of monster will emerge from this.

Brennan sat down with him and told him straight that if he comes home he can drink himself to oblivion but don’t become mean without cause. Don’t be cruel to her or anyone else.

Husk had kissed her hands and cheeks promising to not be terribly changed and to come home. She didn’t really expect him to keep either of those promises, war is a hard thing to come back from after all.

Bren let him make love to them on that couch after that conversation. Then they did it again because well, she didn’t really expect him to be loyal to her and her alone while deployed. Did tell him she’d take a lover herself to pass the time as well.

Of course a fat lie, she…liked him. It wasn’t long after he left for basic training and then off to a platoon or unit.

Brennan went to work of course, as many women did. Liked the hard work and building up a sweat, liked the camaraderie that comes from being around like minded women.

I see them having lived near Seattle, Washington, so Bren worked on Boeing B-17s!

Took having to leave the work force hard, but didn’t try to make them make her stay. Went home with her newly learned skill and don’t just mean drilling.

House broke down a few times so she rolled up her sleeves, went to the library to get a Plumbing for Dummies book (probably didn’t exist but whatever was the equivalent) and went to work fixing. Helped some of the wives in the neighborhood as well.

Then the war ended, ladies needed to hand back the jobs and go back to their lives with their husbands. Bren was looking forward to Husk being home, but she had liked working and was one of the many disappointed to have to leave it.

Husk had changed, many men had. Thankfully he didn't become violent but they both became poorer then they'd ever been their entire lives.

Drinking had always been Husk's vice but when money started going missing Brennan looked into where it could be going. Thinking at the time his infidelity had crossed the ocean back with him. That's when she learned of his newer vice, gambling.

Introduced to him while on leave overseas, Husk grew a taste for the highs of it. The money didn't hurt either when he was on a hot streak. But the lows hit hard when you don't have the consistent funds to keep that up. And they had both been raised poor, many men had fallen into similar habits so Brennan knew the signs.

They had ignored them however, a mistake on their part really. They should have talked with him. Done something before it got real bad! But they didn't. And then that night happened....

On a foggy spring night in the 1950's Husk had went out gambling.

He had come in like a hurricane, sweeping through the house grabbing some clothes and packing frantically. She remember waking up due to the noise and groggily asking whats wrong.

He hadn't said anything back, that is what got her attention. Sitting up she'd asked all kinds of questions, but he didn't say anything. Asked him why, what she did, where is he going, and more she can't recall.

Followed him out of their room down the hall and to the front door. It's there he finally spoke, but it wasn't a answer to any of her questions.

"I wish I had more time to love you better. You deserve that but all you got was my love. I'll probably lose that too when I leave..." Then he had kissed them as they had been too confused to think of anything to say. They'd cried like they were some teenager, snot and tears with those heavy sobs.

It was the last the saw of him, but they heard what happened years later....

[mattybraps10]

I Can See You | Brendan Brisson x Hughes!OC

Summary: Brendan and Phoebe reflect on their relationship as Matty joins them at the house, reigniting Brendan's feelings for Phoebe.

Word Count: 1093

By: M

Parts: part one | part two | part four | part five

PART THREE:

Brendan threw the sheets into the washing machine, turning it on and wandering onto the deck to finish his beer. It’d been a while since he’d seen Phoebe, and her presence was overwhelming. 

The door opened and Phoebe sat beside him, looking out onto the water. For Brendan it felt like he’d traveled back in time to before he’d gone to college, before he’d messed up what they’d had between them. 

“You really didn’t have to give up your room for Luke’s friend, I would’ve been fine with him on the couch.” Phoebe said, breaking the comfortable silence.

“I know, I just… I feel like I should protect you. I know you can handle yourself and Matty’s a great guy and all but… I guess I’m jealous? I don’t know.” 

“It’s not your place to be jealous anymore Bren, I mean you lost me.” She said, tucking her hair behind her ear and facing Brendan.

Bren.

Phoebe hadn’t called him that since they’d been together all those years ago, butterflies swarmed in his stomach as he looked into her blue eyes.

“I know Bea, I know.” He sighed, looking down into his almost empty drink, the moment shattered.

She rested her head on his shoulder as he finished his drink. Brendan imagined their lives hadn’t changed, that Phoebe was still his. He wished they were still sneaking around once her brothers were asleep, driving to Walmart and running through the isles at midnight, oblivious to the world around them. He wished he’d kept the photos of them she’d taken on her old camera when she’d been obsessed with documenting every aspect of her life. He wished he’d never left that night, that he’d turned down Michigan and promised to stay with her forever. But he hadn’t, he’d left and here they were. 

Definitely not nothing but also not something. 

An almost, a wish and a memory.

The next morning came, Brendan having slept on Phoebe’s couch as the sheets were in the dryer. He woke up, surrounded by her. Her clothing spread along the floor, perfume wafting through the brightly painted room. When Phoebe was younger she’d taken her paint set to the walls and painted intricate murals of everything and everyone she loved. Brendan wished he could still see where they had hidden their names within a heart, a new mural having taken its place. Intricate vines surrounded a large sunflower, the faintest lines of their names still peaking through. Brendan stood up, walking towards the flower, another reminder of all he’d lost. He slowly traced his finger over the remnants of his name, a smile on his face.

“What are you doing?” Phoebe said, stepping out of the adjoining bathroom in nothing but a towel. 

Brendan turned, startled as he quickly realized her lack of clothing. Despite the pure want clouding Brendan’s mind, he resisted the urge to grab her by the waist and remove the towel. 

“I- uh- well- I was admiring this flower. It wasn’t here before.” He said, a blush radiating up his neck and onto his cheeks.

“Yeah okay Bren, sure. Now turn back around so I can get dressed.” 

He turned around resisting the urge, once again, to see her without her towel. Her beauty hadn’t been lost on him as she’d walked through the door the day before. 

Once Phoebe was dressed, the two of them headed to the kitchen to get coffee and find out the plans for the day. Since Brendan had been in Vegas, he still hadn’t acclimated to the time zone which meant he’d woken up much later than everyone else.

“Good morning sleepyhead.” Jack said as Brendan walked through the door, still clad in pajamas. 

“Here, I made you a coffee, it’s kinda cold now though…” Quinn smiled, handing him the drink.

Brendan had forgotten how great it felt to be around people who truly loved and appreciated him. Don’t get him wrong, he loved his dad, but his dad had been away a lot growing up and the Hughes’ were the closest things he had to a functioning family.

“Where’s Moosey?” Phoebe asked, sitting at a barstool and picking up the tea she’d left earlier in the day. 

“Picking up Matty, he should be back soon though.” Jack replied, taking the seat next to her. 

Just as Brendan finished his coffee, the door opened and Matty bounded down the stairs. 

“Hugheseys, Brissy, I’m hoooome!!” Matty had never been one for shy introductions as he quickly scooped Jack, Quinn, and Brendan into a hug.

“Hey buddy, it’s been a while. How’s Seattle?” Brendan asked, a genuine smile painting his face. 

“It’s been good man, rainy, but good. How ‘bout Vegas?” Matty smiled, genuinely happy to be back at the lake. 

“Good, really hot, but also fun.” Brendan laughed, as he tried to mimic what Matty had said.

“Oh, hey. You must be Phoebe, rude of me not to introduce myself. I’m Matty.” He said, offering a hand to shake as Phoebe wrapped him into a hug.

“No need for pleasantries, if Lukey likes you so do I. How was your flight?” 

Brendan tried not to acknowledge the pang of jealousy he’d felt when Phoebe had so easily offered his friend a hug. She hadn’t hugged him when she’d seen him again, and Luke liked him more than Matty! He knew it wasn’t fair, knew their relationship was different, but it still hurt. 

“It wasn’t that bad actually, I got to watch some movies I wanted to see and catch up on my sleep.” Matty said, a charming smile plastered onto his face.

Brendan frowned.

“Ooh. What movies did you see? I watched Spiderman in the car yesterday. Tobey Maguire, obviously.” Phoebe said, clearly lapping up Matty’s unwavering charm.

“Oh well obviously Maguire was the best Spider-man, but Garfield was the better Peter Parker. And don’t get me started on Holland. His Spider-man had it so easy. As for the movies I watched, I saw the new hockey romance movie, Odd Time Rush, and I also started the Elvis movie but I fell asleep like halfway through.” He smirked, looking at Phoebe.

“Didn’t peg you as a romance guy, but I guess the hockey part makes sense. All work all the time.” She said, rolling her eyes.

“What did you peg me as, huh? You just met me, there’s so much to get to know.” Matty winked, as Phoebe chuckled.

“Alright guys that’s enough. Get a room.” Brendan said, finally having enough of their banter and skulking away to Phoebe’s room.

[feuerwizard]

do you have any unpopular opinions about caleb?

to clarify: no one in the rpc is guilty of what i am about to explain, more of the general c/ritical r/ole fandom as a whole!

i wouldn't say this is an unpopular opinion necessarily as much as i do find it a bit frustrating that the c/ritical r/ole fandom as a whole sometimes tends to overlook or ignore what a bad person early campaign caleb really was. they sort of just simplify him to sad quirky boy who likes cats and by the end, he's less sad quirky boy who likes cats.

a bit of caleb meta under the cut because i am obsessed with him.

this is not exclusive to the critical role fandom of course, but fandom, in general, can sometimes ignore a character arc starting from a less-than-ideal place if they have deemed that particular character as a favorite boy who can do no wrong. this absolutely happens in discussions surrounding caleb and his character arc because he ends up in such a positive (or positive for him) place by the end of the campaign. it's very easy to ignore the low if you can choose instead to focus on the high.

as a writer, this is something i feel very passionate about not doing. caleb is such an interesting character to me because of where he came from and the growth he overcomes throughout his character arc. is caleb as bad as trent? absolutely not, but he was still a pretty shitty person and extremely single-minded in his pursuits. even if his motivations were noble (saving his parents from himself) i think we have seen from a lot of popular media that even the best of villains start from noble pursuits. not saying caleb is a villain, not at all, but you get my point. he was clearly struggling with his worst instincts and it's his friends that caused him to start looking inwards.

don't believe me? ask liam o'brien!

i've been watching a lot of old liam interviews where he talks about early campaign caleb and this one stood out to me as the most direct example of the demons caleb was fighting with every day and how he sometimes allowed them to win. when asked why caleb chose to do the blood pact with fjord, this is what he said.

“…he saw fjord become tempted by power and in that moment, he’s very much like trent, the man who molded him, saw a split second in time where he [fjord] had hunger in his eyes and thought that it could be molded or bent for caleb’s use. and thought, I could take a risk here….and use him and pull a favor out of this.” 

this is very crappy and manipulative behavior towards a friend! liam then follows it up by expressing how guilty caleb felt over it due to his increasing care of the nein.

"caleb was disgusted with himself at that moment...i think that he was a product of his schooling in that moment. and part of him was like 'yes' but most of him went you fucking piece of filth. look at you."

was caleb, as a child, a victim of abuse grooming? absolutely. did this mold caleb into someone not super great? also yes. both things can be true and it doesn't minimize the abuse that caleb suffered. he's a product of his environment and that's what makes his growth so powerful. love saves people. he is genuinely changed by the friends in his life who chose to look past his mistakes and the man that trent molded him into and instead saw him for the person he could choose to be now. caleb is extremely kind and painstakingly earnest. he just needed the right people in his life to allow that to come out again. to allow the softness.

when caleb is talking to essek in the infamous forehead kiss scene, he is not talking just talking about the mistakes he made as a young teenager in killing his family, but he is also referring to the person he was when he met the nein. that is the fool in caleb's mind. not a manipulated child bren. he sees a lot of himself in essek because i think he sees how easily he could have become essek if not for the nein. and also why essek's redemption is so meaningful to him. if essek can do it, maybe he can too.

trauma doesn't define either of them.

i feel so passionate about this because i think caleb's character arc is genuinely one of the most powerful explorations of trauma and healing i've ever seen in a fictional property and overlooking the person he was at the beginning is a disservice to how far he comes by the end. the genuinely good person he grows into becoming.

"pain doesn’t make people. it’s love that makes people. the pain is inconsequential. it’s love that saves them."

[kagedbird]

Cicero Loves You, Listener!

TESSDE AU - Dark Brotherhood route

~ [First] ~ [Next] ~ [Prev] ~

I was humming a small tune that echoed in my mind as I plucked flowers free from a bushel.

Cicero had been teaching me more about alchemy, and I was eager to learn. The fact that potions existed still excited me, making me wonder if I was from some place that didn’t have any. Cicero disregarded the notion with a laugh, saying how odd it would be for that to be true.

My gut tells me otherwise, but I make no mention of it to him.

Instead, I was joyfully picking flowers from the bushes and gathering soft mushrooms where I could. Cicero was doing his duty of keeping the Night Mother, but I promised I wouldn’t stray too far from the door so he could come collect me in an hour.

It was wonderful to be in the fresh air again.

I sighed softly at the sound of the twittering birds and rustling of the trees. One might think the sounds overbearing after being stuck in silence for so long, and at times it was, but for the moment it was a comfort.

I felt at peace with the cold winds prickling my skin teasingly as it brushed up against me, or curling itself around my hair.

It almost felt like another presence, equally matronly, was grooming me after being gone so long. Trying to clean away impurities.

I shook my head, huffing softly. Magick may exist, but the biggest magick of them all was my imagination. Just because I hear a voice in my head one time doesn’t mean there are magical presences in everything.

…Right?

I paused momentarily at the thought before sighing and shaking my head again. I truthfully didn’t know. But if it was a magical presence like Mother, then I was grateful it was so overly friendly, rather than aggressive.

My chest was swelling again, with the urge to sing. I’d been humming to reduce it, but it seemed the urge only grew instead of fading.

I couldn’t find the words though. It’s as if it was another language entirely, and my brain couldn’t form the sentences correctly. But the tune was hauntingly beautiful.

Closing my eyes, I could envision someone with wings attached to their head, praying to someone’s corpse. A tall black haired person finding them, taking them away.

Messiah? Monster? It was impossible to tell who was who. There was blood on both of them.

Was that me? Was that my past life?

Was that the black haired man I kept seeing in my dreams?

Had he saved me from a cult before? Had I fallen right back into it without him?

Too many questions. Never any answers. Never any proper answers.

My head thrummed painfully, and I stood, dusting off my pants free from grasses and dirt, intent on waiting closer to the door for Cicero, when I heard someone call out.

“Allora?!”

I turned around quickly, hand falling to the dagger Cicero gave me as a precaution, and saw—

A… very familiar black haired man.

His features… by Sithis, he was beautiful. Prominent cheek bones, a beautiful, blood red tattoo with eyes match. A feminine masculinity, if such a thing were to exist.

And he knew my name.

“Allora,” he called out again, reaching out and stepping forward. “By the Gods, where have you been? I thought… we thought…”

“I…” My throat was clogged, taking a weary step back. He was too close to the sanctuary. He’d see the others and they would kill him. “I don’t know who you are. But you need to leave.”

“Lass?”

The flash of yearning and pain flickered across his eyes, and it made my heart seize. Was I doing the wrong thing, not greeting him like a friend?

Cicero would be back soon. He would flip.

“Please,” I begged, forgoing my basket to take another step back. I swallowed thickly, grimacing as he matched me step for step. “Go back.”

“I’m not leaving without you again.” The man said. Not a demand, but an equal plea. “Come home. Please. Bren misses you.”

“Bren?” I asked. A flicker of brown hair came as fast as it went in my mind.

“Aye. Lucien and Inigo too.”

“Lucien…?”

Blond hair, a scruffy beard…

“...Inigo…?”

Blue. Beautiful, beautiful blue.

“That’s right, lass. I missed you too.” He said, daring to take another step forward. His hand— by Sithis he was warm and it felt so right but so wrong— took hold of my right hand to keep the dagger aloft and away from both of us. “Kaidan. My name is Kaidan. D’ya remember?”

“I…”

My left hand trailed up to my neck, half expecting something to be there. What? A memento?

His thumb dragged against my skin, and it made my breath hitch. I felt weak— weaker than ever— and I wanted nothing more than for him to carry me away.

“Listener?”

I jolted, turning to see Cicero looking around for me near the door. I panicked, shoving the man’s hand away, and leapt for the basket, turning around and booking it towards the Keeper.

Cicero looked surprised to see me running towards him. Even moreso when I took his hand and fled inside the sanctuary.

A part of me wailed to leave the mysterious man— Kaidan— but I couldn’t risk the family seeing him. The fear was larger than the longing.

The need to keep him safe was larger than that.

I breathed a sigh of relief as the door closed behind me, and I hadn’t seen the man give chase. Hopefully he hadn’t seen the hatch, and hopefully he didn’t know the phrase to get in.

If he did, surely that meant he was part of the family too, though, right?

Surely…

“Listener? Are you well? You’re breathing quite heavily, and ran so quick!” Cicero asked, pulling my attention away from the man.

“I…” I huffed and puffed, lungs absolutely burning in agony from my sudden panic and subsequent race. A memory came to mind that made my cheeks flush further, dragging my eyes to the side. “There was… a bee…”

Silence. Large, still, silence.

Before rapturous laughter once more.

“Hohoho! Cicero did not know the Listener was afraid of bees,” he teased, squeezing my hand. “And here Cicero thought it was an unruly threat he had to take care of! Hahaha!”

“What?” I sighed, pouting lightly in disappointment. “You wouldn’t protect me from bees?”

“Cicero has to say, he agrees with their taste!” Cicero said, tugging me along down the steps. “Miss Allora, sweet Allora, is just like a flower! It is hard not to buzz, buzz, buzz around her! Hoho! Hehe!”

I rolled my eyes and tried to calm down my thumping heartbeat as I followed along the rambling jester.

I very pointedly did not look back to the doors, trying to ignore the part of me that still reached out to the man waiting behind them.

[beatriceeagle]

i wanted to send the part where bren tried to seduce beau and her reaction but it’s a bit longer than 500 words. so instead i’ll ask some questions (though feel free to talk about other aspects!!)

how did you come up with bren thinking that they were romantically involved?

what was beau thinking while they were dancing?

what do you imagine bren’s training was regarding charming and seducing people?

I have a million things to say about this section, so I'm gonna go ahead and give you the full essay, and make sure I answer those questions along the way. Heads up that there is non-graphic discussion of sexual abuse below the cut.

This was a scene that I actually went back and forth on a lot. I wasn't sure I wanted to include it, for a number of reasons: it's very sudden, and doesn't obviously play into the broader plot; it alludes to a very thorny aspect of Caleb's backstory that I knew I wasn't going to have space to fully unpack; and probably most of all, I kind of thought (and still think) that Beau would probably actually be aware of that aspect, so I was kind of suspending my own disbelief by having her go into it blind.

(I could probably have made the scene work even with Beau being aware, but it would have significantly changed the tenor of it. Also, a fun fact about me is that if I really like a joke and think it's in-character, I will fudge other aspects of canon to preserve it, and “If you’re secretly attracted to me, you have to tell me. It’s the bro code, I think," may be my favorite joke in this fic.)

I ultimately kept the scene because it's pulling weight in a lot of different ways. It puts the idea of sexual abuse very vividly in Beau's mind, which helps to prime her for the letter she discovers in the next chapter. It lays groundwork for the Essek plot line. And most importantly, it creates a foundation of trust between Bren and Beau, because Beau establishes a firm boundary in an area that Bren has been taught that his boundaries do not matter, and begins the process of establishing that her friendship and support are not transactional.

The answers to your specific questions, in order:

1. One of the fun parts of the very early chapters for me was digging into Bren's basic (extremely wrong) assumptions about the world. Among other things, it gave me the opportunity to imagine how Beau and Caleb's relationship would look to him, and the idea that he would mistake their relationship for romantic was the first thing I thought of. Their incredible closeness and affection is visibly obvious, and Bren believes them to be partners in capture and interrogation—and he is, after all, in love with both of his capture and interrogation partners.

2. As I said, I think in actual canon Beau would definitely be hearing alarm bells when Bren asked to dance. In this fic, however, she doesn't know about the seduction element of his training, and to her, dancing with Caleb is in no way romantically or sexually charged. It's something they've done many times before (as I allude to in the party at the Lavish Chateau). So Bren asking her to dance probably strikes her as, at worst, an avoidance strategy to deal with his feelings about having seen how different the dance hall looks. Which it is. Just not in the way she thinks.

3. Okay, this is basically all the stuff I didn't have space to unpack in the fic itself. I imagine that Ikithon's training covered, broadly, four subjects: magic (self-explanatory), history (propaganda), interrogation (torture), and spycraft. They all would have overlapped, but those would've been the four big areas. And what Bren thinks of as "spycraft" training was really an exercise in the systematic breaking down of his personal boundaries and sense of self.

Yes, they were taught all the things that Bren mentions when he talks to Beau about spycraft: ingratiate yourself with the subject, find commonalities and leverage, figure out what they want and present it to them. I'm sure they learned a lot about rhetoric and body language and tools of persuasion. But the actual key takeaway of those lessons wasn't any of that: it was that in order to do those things, they should be willing to go to any length, make any sacrifice, and cross any line. Their feelings shouldn't matter; their safety shouldn't matter; certainly the feelings and safety of their targets shouldn't matter. Only the mission should matter.

So I think that the lessons probably involved sexual abuse, not necessarily in the form of sexual contact, but in the form of overt and intentional boundary-pushing on topics of sex and romance. In fact, I think that there was probably overt boundary-pushing on a lot of topics. (I've thought a decent amount about how Eadwulf's religion could be transgressed in similar ways, for instance.) Because ultimately, the primary goal isn't an education on any particular topic; it's the systematic erosion of the concept of boundaries themselves.

[rosekasa]

HELLO PERSON WHO DEFINITELY DIDNT REBLOG THAT ASK GAME JUST BECAUSE I WANTED TO ASK QUESTIONS HAHAHA NO DEFINITELY THAT WAS NOT ABOUT ME

💖 Which of your fics is your pride and joy? (is this like asking you which is your favorite child)

🎭What genre of writing comes easiest to you? (hee hee it doesnt just have to be about fanfiction either !!)

🙌What's a line or paragraph of yours that you're proud of? (your writing is so beautiful if someone else already asked you this PLEASE still answer it again with another line or paragraph 🥺 I'm begging)

🍎What's something you learned while researching for a fic? (I KNOW you look up and learn lots of things while writing)

⏳If you could go back in time and tell your younger writer self something, what would it be? (🥺🥺 you always have such insight)

HI PERSON I DEFINITELY DIDNT REBLOG THIS FOR I LOVE YOU AHDJSJS

💖 Which of your fics is your pride and joy?

like poles of a magnet for SURE. i adore that fic. im not really sure why im so attached to it but it's really my baby. i love it so much

🎭What genre of writing comes easiest to you?

oh youre gonna think im so lame. it's essay writing. ahdjsjdkaksk. i think i told you before but i write book reviews for every book i read and my writing feels so Natural then because it's like. every line has a purpose to prove my point about the book. whenever im feeling rusty with narrative writing i find myself telling myself 'okay pretend this is an essay and this whole story is trying to prove your thesis about the characters' ahdjsj

🙌What's a line or paragraph of yours that you're proud of?

bren 🥹 ily. my hanahaki wip is really fun and i feel like has a lot of good writing because it really demands a lot of descriptiveness. i have this section when adrien sees gabriel for the first time in a while that i kept scrolling up and rereading

He knows, logically, that this is his father. You can't forget a face like that, the face you searched for in vain at every fencing tournament, piano recital, fashion gala that you knew full well he hadn’t attended but you were tired and wanted an adult to hold your hand and guide you around the crowds. 

It is that face. But a mimicry of it, like a portrait with the wrong proportions.

He’s gaunt — it’s the first word that comes to mind. His eyes sit deep in their sockets beneath his glasses, jaw a sharp trapezoid attached to his cheeks. It’s not just a matter of losing weight over the months — which, even if it was, would be a surprising deviation from the seventy-five kilos he had not shifted a decimal of a gram from in thirty years. It’s everything else, the biology hidden behind the layers of perfectly-tailored clothing, and well-combed hair, and skin, although pristine, textured like paper over the canvas of his skull. 

🍎What's something you learned while researching for a fic?

did i ever tell you about how when i went to paris last year i literally knew where everything was by arrondissements because ive searched them up so many times for ml fics. i think it was even specifically rue lepic that i remember the most because i once wrote about ladynoir patrolling around there and it turned out to be the road right next to my hotel (yes, we got a hotel in pigalle, my paris knowledge did not supply me with what exactly pigalle is known for,)

⏳If you could go back in time and tell your younger writer self something, what would it be?

literally not to lose that unwarranted confidence i had. at age eleven i was pounding out 50k+ word multichapter fics for my first fandom and like. the plots are so questionable. but when i reread them now im genuinely impressed at the quality of writing i had at that age. i think as i hit 13/14 i went through that phase where i was like ohhh my god i was sooo embarrassing when i was a kid and that insecurity really hindered my writing progress! i think creativity needs you to be unapologetic and cringe. that's when the best stuff is made because it's Real

i love you bren!!!

[callsign-rogueone]

Hey sweetie! (Me again lol 😵‍💫)

This was supposed to be one thing but the graphic audio made it two 🤦

Brennan and his children, I know I've asked before, but I need to know what he'd be like. And considering that you portray the characters so realistically... Please enlighten me, at least a little.....

There is this one line in IF that for some reason holds me my heart (a second just popped in my mind too 🤦 sometimes I had my mind) but it's a line from violet to andarna. Marbh was watching over Brennan while he was mending the ward stone 🥺 I need more of them. Marbh probably became more protective after the rebellion. But marhb staying on top of the chamber to look over Brennan 🥺

Do you remember that line from Brennan before the battle "disengage your limbs or whatever you're doing" ? If you wanna I'm sending that from the graphic audio you need to hear it, it gives peak "brother who accepts the relationship but is not happy with the thought of someone touching his youngest sister.

I think I overstayed my welcome. But alas. Here you have it. Brennan, bren, mender, the sweetest man alive 😵‍💫🥺

Love you 💐

Aura 🧡

hihi!! I still need to listen to the graphic audio but I’m scared lol

yes!! we need to talk about dad!Bren. he’s gonna be so sweet with his two little boys that look exactly like him 🥹 I’ll probably make a full post about him and some of the other guys as dads, but some initial thoughts:

he’s 100% always helping his partner take care of the babies. we stan an active father!! even if he’s tired from Lieutenant Colonel stuff, he’s always making sure that they have what they need and he’ll get up in the middle of the night to feed them / get them back to sleep etc etc

his mending! he’s immediately fixing any kind of injury. blocking the babies pain when they’re teething, and later when they’re running around, fixing any skinned knees etc. I think I talked about this before but he’d also be the go-to person for all of Aretia’s kids who need their favorite toys and stuffies fixed.

they’d 100% have little stuffies that look like daddy’s dragon 🥺 they’d love Marbh. and of course Marbh would protect Bren’s partner and their babies from anything and anyone. 🧡

Bren would also really value their education when they get a bit older. he’s always reading with them, teaching them another language like his dad taught him…

and of course when they’re more grown up, the age to enlist at Basgiath, he won’t pressure them to do that at all. if they want to be riders, scribes, healers, infantry, or take another path in kife, that’s fine with him. he just wants them to be happy. 🧡

and Marbh is definitely extra protective of his boy after the whole death and resurrection thing.

it must have been painful and emotional for marbh to feel Brennan fade away and then come back suddenly… and Marbh probably feels guilty for not being able to protect him then, too.

in my mind it wasn’t an instant recovery. like Naolin stabilized him and stopped him from dying but he still had to heal and rest for a while. Marbh would be worried about Bren and when he finally saw him again face to face he’d be so happy (even if he didn’t show it — I know they describe him as being kinda aloof lol)

I think he’d be a little glad when Bren went into hiding / wasn’t really in combat anymore. like, “good, he’ll be safe in the fortress. no arrows in there.”

and of course him watching Bren and the kids in the final battle 🧡 he couldn’t be there for Bren the last time, and look what happened then… so he’s being here now. and Marbh has grumpy dad energy to me (not as bad as Tairn’s, but close) so he’s making sure to protect the young cadets too.

that’s all I’ve got for now. more to come in a real post later perhaps, but I wanted to answer this and feed the Brennan girlies at least once this week 🥺🧡

love ya!!

[powerpolyculeshowdown]

Canon Polycule Showdown

(vote for your favorite! check the description if you don’t know them)

[ID: 1. Picture of Megaera, Thanatos and Zagreus from the videogame Hades. 2. Picture of Bren (aka Caleb), Eadwulf and Astrid, from the Mighty Nein Origins: Caleb Widowgast graphic novel. /end ID]

Meet the contestants!

Megaera/Thanatos/Zagreus

Status: Canon

Description: Zagreus and Megaera are exes, while Zagreus and Thanatos have very obvious romantic feelings for each other. As part of the story, you can romance both of them at the same time, and it is made clear that neither of them minds it. There’s also a scene that heavily hints Meg and Than had something in the past, although it might’ve been more casual than now.

Caleb/Eadwulf/Astrid

Status: Canon (past)

Description: The three of them were childhood friends who all received a scholarship to the Solstrice Academy, and together caught the eye of an influential mentor. Under the guise of nationalism, he groomed the three of them into the role of magical assassins/spies/interrogators. The three of them also entered a relationship as they became isolated from the rest of their peers. After Caleb/Bren had a mental breakdown thanks to some backstory stuff, he was isolated from Astrid and Ealdwulf, who consoled themselves with one another. Caleb ultimately went on to oppose Astrid and Ealdwulf, however, there was still a sense of fondness/missed opportunities/regret for the loss of the relationship between the three of them when they eventually met again.

[nicohischierz]

one knight - brendan brisson

it started off like any other party for brendan. pregaming with thomas and then spending the night playing beer pong with his friends.

the only thing that changed was the female body and unfamiliar bedroom he woke up in. but after further surveillance he found out it was his room, just cleaner.

brendan snuck out of his room and slipped into the kitchen. he’d gone around collecting panadol and water for you, just incase you woke up with a headache like him.

however, you were now wide awake. the loss of body heat from brendan startled you slightly, throwing your body into overdrive.

you didn’t remember much about the boy you hooked up with. just that he had nice hair and that you were pretty sure luke had introduced the two of you.

after snooping through brendan’s bedroom. finding out he was, having a panic session then deciding to be a big girl about it.

you made your way downstairs.

“and you have no idea who she is?”

“i think hughesy knows her,”

jacob, thomas and brendan were all seated around the kitchen counter. jacob was making pancakes for everyone as they discussed brendan’s events from the previous night.

it was matty’s presence that diverted the boys attention.

“now who do we have here?” he asked.

you were caught red-handed listening to the boys. when you turned around it took him a while to figure out who you were but once he did. he knew whoever you slept with was in deep shit.

brendan smiled over at you and gestured for you to come over. he was oblivious to the looks his three friends were giving each other.

of course jacob, thomas and matty knew who you were, your brother was possibly the best goalie from their time at the program.

a plate of pancakes was set down in front of you from jacob, the boy giving you a look to explain everything to him later. brendan handed you the condiments from around the counter.

“i’ve got panadol for you,” he whispered in your ear.

you nodded and thanked him. brendan thought you were cute and he wanted to see you again, he just didn’t know how.

once you had your breakfast and thanked the boys for their hospitality, you were out of his sights.

but you weren’t out of his mind.

so brendan spent the better half of his days looking for you. and to his luck, you were there in the stands as he looked up. you were with some of the other girlfriends as you laughed at something they said. 

a warm feeling filled his chest as he watched you interact with everyone around you. the boy was in high spirits when the game finished, he had a goal and two assists and he was finally going to be able to talk to you. 

however, when brendan walked out of the locker room he saw you tucked under henry thrun’s arms. johnny was there as well but he was too focused on the way you leaned into the older boys frame.

now brendan was drowning his sorrows in alcohol. thomas had tried getting his friend to open up about why he was feeling down but brendan just ignored the boy.

for brendan, his night was better than his day until you walked into the bar. you were with henry again. luke had welcomed you first handing you his drink and giving your companion a smile.

when you saw brendan you smiled and excused yourself from henry, luke and johnny who had joined your conversation. the three boys saw the sparkle in your eye, the only thing they wished was that everything worked out because if your brother found out he would be dead.

“that was a really good game today bren,” you complimented. 

the brisson boy just nodded and turned to thomas. you got the hint he didn’t want to talk to you and walked away. thomas took that as the perfect opportunity to slap his friend upside the head. 

at the action luke, henry and johnny all made their way to brendan’s table. of course, he scoffed at the sight of henry but never the less he waited to see what they all said. 

“what is your problem?” 

“you do you know she’s into you right,” 

thomas and luke let out. both boys then started every piece of information they could on you. 

“how are you okay with this, aren’t you dating her?” brendan asked henry. 

the harvard boy chocked on his drink. johnny started laughing and luke shook his head. 

“did you not hear me just now, i said she’s into you briss not henry. never henry,” luke reiterated. 

it took a while to register in his head but brendan finally understood what luke was trying to say. he hit his head against the side of the table, brendan groaned at his stupidity and looked up to find you. 

everyone else was either dancing with someone or in a group but you. you were sat by yourself tapping at the side of your glass, brendan caught sight of a guy trying to approach you and that’s when he made his move. 

“hey babe, i was wondering where you went,” he spoke aloud. 

he slowly gestured to the guy and you nodded. you didn’t really say anything. just appreciated his presence and the warmth of his body. 

“i was a bit of an idiot earlier but i really want to take you out on a date,” he whispered. 

you thought about it for a bit before nodding. “okay. but it better be worth it briss,” 

brendan smiled. 

he was going to get the girl 

[atlasarcana]

echo bren, act 2 fic 1 snippet (since it's been a while!)

Sydenstar 3, 839 P.D.

He arrives in Ank’harel a few days prior to the ceremony, thinking himself a good student for taking the time to scout. He gets a towel and an empty glass in his hands as a reward.

Bartender work. Well — there’s nothing wrong with scouting in disguise, in fairness. And it is a quick way to learn the clientèle. To overhear conversation and catch words where they escape secrets. More than anything, to make notes.

He spends three days bored out of his mind wiping down the wet bar of a long and golden casino room. He takes orders, he compliments the early-arriving guests. Technically on duty as Volstrucker (though when the duty ever ends is beyond him), he marks easy targets for cornering and conversation. A noblewoman here and there touches his collar too closely, champagne too heavy on her breath, and he takes her to the back room to see the estate wines, of course, and peeks into her mind — only a gentle folding back of paper, not a terrible knife-intrusion — and pockets the rumors and the drivel for himself before spinning her back out to the main bar without a break in charisma.

Twice he escorts a drunk out of the bathrooms. Thrice he rips down Missing posters nailed up in search of some halfling boy.

They smoke a great deal here in Ank’harel. That was the one thing he wasn’t expecting. On a mandated smoke break — a perk he ought to campaign to Ikithon — he steps out onto the great big flat white patios overlooking the great big flat fucking lake of a pool in between the buildings on either side of the property, and gets struck with the thought of diving in from the third storey. Which would be silly, and maybe suicidal, and he does not trust himself to know the difference. The white sun is a ball of eternity in the radioactive blue sky, and every shadow it casts grows long and crisp against all the other pale clay surfaces in a way that reminds him distinctly of ink on parchment. Out here on this patio, a hundred feet from the ground with layers of sandstone between himself and anything that makes a sound, he suddenly feels suffocatingly alone. The property is smack in the center of the Sand-Herald district, which is where all the money and noise is, and yet the two palaces of the resort are such tall, bright, architectural knives that the thousands of civilians beneath him are more like ants than anything. He could shut his eyes and only hear the birds and the breathing swell of the city. The slow, industrial chugging. A far-off clang. A distant splash as someone falls unceremoniously from the diving board.

Days like this made the rest tolerable. But days like this would end. And he would wake up somewhere new again, with another sin tallied under his name somewhere by an accountant in the Nine Hells.

He’s lost in thought for a while until a seagull lands by his feet. Quite a bit out from any ocean here, friend. Though, upon closer inspection, it isn’t a seagull — it’s just a white desert pigeon. Pretty little thing. And clearly, Nicodranas is still in his head if he first went to seagulls. He doesn’t fault himself for it; he doesn’t remember the last time he had so much vacation sex. Or a vacation at all.

Bren stares at the pigeon. He inches closer. He stoops.

On a whim, he uses the hand that isn’t holding a cigarillo to swish Sending into the air.

“Beloved,” he says, staring straight at the bird. “My goodest and greatest and sweetest friend.” He pauses. “Food. Ank’harel. Recommendations?”

He knows what he gives with this information. It is possibly the most treasonous thing he has done in years, and in as little as a word. But he cannot find himself to care.

The bird cocks his head at him. For a long moment, the spell doesn’t seem to take.

Then, the receiver picks up the line: Essek’s voice spins in his head.

Ank’harel… says the Shadowhand, very slowly and direly, as though still digesting his morning evil on the other side of the world.

The bird twitches its head this way and that. Essek’s voice could be speaking through it if Bren tried to overlap them in his mind. He experiments with the idea, squinting.

Well. Anything but a kurrak fruit, says Essek.

Essek-Birdy moves its head in a way that could look offended, and, oh, yes. It is quite funny.

They say it tastes like mango.

Liars. Curs. More like rotten eggs.

Avoid. At all costs.

Essek-Birdy pap-paps its feet on the ground. Pecks at Bren’s boot, thinking it a big brown worm. At the illusory-to-physical difference between a bartender’s boot and a Volstrucker’s boot, the bird spasms with perplexity. Then it flies away.

No kurrak fruits. Well, alright. At least that was one insider fact he hadn’t wormed out by sleeping with the Essek of another timeline. Bren puffs his cigarillo and throws it into the midden by the door.

He’d normally throw it over the side of the building, but he fears the bird picking at it later. He goes inside.

[ilovewhiteroses]

Dangerous Attraction

Pairing: Clement Mansell x GN! Undercover Cop Reader Genre: Smut, drama, romance Warnings: Unprotected sex, cursing Rating: 18+ Note: This fanfic was requested by @spider-bren. Thank you for the idea, sweetheart!🥰

You find out that the infamous outlaw, Clement Mansell is in town and it will be your task to go undercover and get close to him. However, you didn't expect to get too close to him…

As one of Detroit's best cops, you have been involved in undercover operations for years and thanks to your help, several criminals have been caught.

One morning, your boss called you in and told you that the "Oklahoma Wildman", Clement Mansell, is in town, a cruel killer who was once in prison, but was released relatively soon thanks to lawyer, Carolyn Wilder, and has been killing freely ever since. Your job will be to get close to Mansell, to learn as much information about him as possible, so that you can catch him at the right moment.

You learned that Mansell often spends his time at the casino. To be in character, you put on a shirt, jacket and jeans. While you were waiting for him, you started playing on one of the slot machines. Not long after, your person of interest arrived and you saw him sitting down at the poker table. You continued to play on the machine until Mansell left the poker and you walked over to him. He was hitting on one of the waitresses at the bar when you pretended to bump into him.

"Shit! I'm so sorry, sir! I apologize for my clumsiness, I'm just angry as I've lost a small fortune on the slot machine.”

"It's okay, I understand, I can't think straight when I lose money either. Come and have a drink with me!” he invited you in a friendly way. At first glance, you would have believed everything about this charming, attractive man, except that he was a real killer.

After Mansell told you to feel free to call him Clement, he told you a little bit about himself, which you expected because that was the main reason you were there.

"I am a businessman, or I could call myself an entrepreneur. Anyway, I deal with money.” he looked at you mischievously as if he was hiding something from you.

You knew very well about his ”job” and appreciated how strikingly he presented himself. He had something that other criminals didn't have: charisma.

"And what do you do?" he asked you.

"You know, I've been a fan of cars since I was a child and I knew that I wanted to work with them when I grow up. I work in a car dealership, they sell me the car, and I pass it on to whoever needs it." you told him the made up story and then moved closer to him. "I'll tell you that most of these are vehicles that don't have papers, which I know is illegal, but what does that matter these days, right?" you told him with a smug smile. You could see that Clement was into the story and he believed it.

But he liked you even more.

He took your hand and his mouth turned into a sleazy smile.

"How about we continue the evening at my place?" he asked, to which you didn't say anything, just nodded.

Yes, you are on track! It crossed your mind that if you continued to play your role so skillfully, the handcuffs would snap on Mansell's wrists sooner than you thought.

You got into a black Range Rover and Clement drove, even though he had been drinking. Fortunately, he was still able to drive well and you reached his apartment safely.

When you entered, it was dark and only the light of the moon shone through the huge glass windows. You didn't see much of the apartment, but you could tell that it was spacious and it had nice furniture.

You were a little drunk and felt a bit dizzy, but you were sane and tried not to hit anything. Clement took your hand and led you to the window.

"Look at this view! Do you know how cool it is to see this every day?” he told you while hugging you from behind.

"It's really beautiful. My apartment overlooks an apartment building." you said. It was the only true thing you told him about yourself. His body radiated such warmth that you almost melted in his arms… although you attributed that feeling to the alcohol.

He turned you to face him and slowly leaned in to gently kiss you, you let him. You thought that if this is what it takes to get closer to him, then so be it.

He carefully pressed you against the window, resting his palms on the glass and turning his head to kiss you even deeper. You clung to his waist and let yourself drift, immersed in the passionate kiss. You haven't kissed many criminals so far, but you had to admit that Clement kissed you the best. Compared to what you've heard about him, you were surprised how gentle he can be.

His hand moved to remove your jacket before you broke the kiss.

"Wait, don't...look, I'm not that type. I barely know you yet and I don't want to jump into bed, do you understand?" Clement was a little disappointed, but luckily he understood.

"Yes… You know, I find you very interesting and exciting. I'd like to see you again, but only if you want to see me too."

"Of course! I had a great time with you, thank you for the evening.”

"My pleasure!"

You discussed where and when to meet again, and then you called yourself a taxi.

You always tried to meet him in public places. You made up new and more interesting stories about yourself to him, with which you were able to impress him more and thanks to them, he also told more about himself. He confessed to you where he gets money by fraud or by using a gun, and you pretended to be interested in the subject.

During the time you spent with him, you noticed that you were becoming attracted to him. Being attracted to a murderer is quite a dangerous thing...

He was often in your mind, although no longer as the criminal who needed to be caught, but as the hot guy who swept everyone off their feet with his mere appearance alone.

You felt guilty. Clement was like a forbidden fruit to you: you knew he was bad, yet you wanted him.

You didn't have to wait long.

After a few meetings, you ended up at his apartment again and as soon as you entered the door, you were already ripping each other's clothes off. Only the pants remained on both of you, you knelt down without a word, freed Clement's cock and took it in your mouth. It didn't bother him at all that you were already in the middle of things, in fact, he liked it. You sucked him carefully, but firmly, sometimes running your tongue along the sides and tip of it. Whatever you did, he really enjoyed it. He carefully put his hand on your head to guide you a little and to take him even deeper in your mouth. His erotic moans were music to your ears, which made you suck harder and soon you felt hot liquid in your throat. You took him out of your mouth and as soon as you caught your breath, you looked up to see him gasping for air as well. It was good for your self-confidence that you managed to drive such a determined, controlling man crazy.

You stood up and placed a soft kiss on his lips.

"Can't find the words, huh?" you asked with a sexy smile.

"You blew my mind, baby! Just wait, I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you'll even forget your own name!" he said and picked you up to carry you to the bedroom and threw you on the bed. He pulled your pants off, then took off his own and knelt on the bed, between your legs. He slowly started caressing the inner part of your thighs, then he got closer and closer to your most intimate part.

"Gosh Clement, why are you torturing me like this?" you asked him half impatiently, half laughing.

"Really good things take time, darling!" he said, then grabbed a pillow. "Lift your hips." he said firmly and placed the pillow under your ass, intending to penetrate you as deeply as possible. He started stroking himself, even though he was hard enough again and he leaned in to kiss you. He returned to his starting position, then put his dick in you and lifted your legs up by your ankles. He kept his promise and soon he was fucking you fast and hard. You bit your lip and moaned and groaned. One of your hands was clutching the sheet and with the other you started masturbating.

"Damn, Y/N, you know how to drive me crazy!" he said amidst fast paced hip movements and loud moans. Clement fucked you so ferally that for a moment you were thinking that he was called ”wildman” for a reason, because it seemed that he can be wild in other, pleasant areas of life as well...

After sex, you rested a bit, then went for another round, after which you fell asleep as if you had been knocked out. You could hardly get out of bed in the morning, but you didn't mind it, because Clement gave you pleasure you hadn't had in a long time.

You have realized two things: firstly, what a good lover Clement is, and secondly, that you feel very comfortable with him. You had to remind yourself that he is a killer to watch out for, even if he was having sexy time between the sheets with you…

You didn't see each other for a few days, because Clement had something to do - you guessed what - and you went to your boss's office and told him what you had learned about Mansell. You obviously didn't tell him what happened in the bedroom.

Next time you were at your place. Clement looked around your apartment, made a few comments, and after dinner, which you prepared to please him, you ended up in bed again. This time you weren't so wild, you took your time. You undressed each other slowly, kissed all over each other's body, then you lay on your side and Clement fucked you from behind. This romp was more intimate and passionate than the previous one.

The next day you didn't find Clement in bed. You thought he had left, but when you went into the kitchen, he was sitting at the table with your police badge in the middle.

Fuck. You knew you were in big trouble.

"Sit down!" Clement said demandingly. At any other time, you wouldn't have tolerated someone talking to you like that in your own apartment, but this time was different. You sat next to him at the table and saw in his eyes that he would like to hit you. Or worse, shoot you.

"What is this?" he asked quietly but angrily. "Are you a fucking cop?"

"How did you find it?" you asked scared.

"I was looking for a pen and thought, since here is a desk in the living room, I would find one there. I reached into the drawer and found this instead.” he said pointing his finger at the badge.

You didn't say anything because it had obviously dawned on him that you really were a cop.

"Why didn't you tell me? Huh? Why did you lie?" he asked angrily.

"I didn't lie, I just didn't give myself away."

"So you just made up everything you said about yourself?"

"Yes." Clement thought to himself for a while.

"I think you also have a gun somewhere. You’re lucky I didn't find it, otherwise you wouldn't be sitting here now."

The situation was very awkward and you felt helpless. You ruined weeks of work with one small mistake...Why didn’t you hid your badge along with your gun?

"I think I better go now." he said, then got up from the table and went to the bedroom to get dressed. You didn't follow him and when he walked out the door, you didn't stop him. Even though Clement didn't hurt you physically, you still felt like he slapped you in the face.

Slowly, more than a week has passed since your fall out. You didn't dare tell your boss, instead you lied to him that Clement hadn't said anything useful, or that he had something to do and you two wouldn't see each other for a few days. You were very afraid that your blunder would come to light, because it could even cost your job.

One night someone knocked on your door, you were surprised that it was Clement. He wanted you to let him in, he wanted to talk to you. You went to the living room and started to explain to him.

"Clement, I..."

"Wait! Let me tell you something. Look…I've had a lot of feelings swirling since the fight. At first I was very angry, but as I thought more about you and what you were doing right now, it turned into something more serious and deep. I don't know and I don't want to explain. It's just that there's something about you that I simply couldn't forget you."

You couldn't decide if he really said all this honestly, or if he was just pretending so he can kill you. Although you had learned to pick up on the smallest signs in body language during your career as a police officer, you felt he was telling the truth.

"You know, I also thought about you a lot and it's true that I didn't tell you the truth, my feelings for you were real. And they still are.”

Clement turned away for a moment, as if he didn't want you to see him get caught up in his feelings.

"Really? Aren't you going to arrest me?”

"No. After all that, I wouldn't be able to do it." He was visibly relieved to hear this. You stood in silence for a few minutes. There were many things you wanted to say, but you listened to your feelings instead and kissed each other.

After this, you slept with each other several times, sometimes at his place, sometimes at your place. As your feelings for each other deepened, your love makings became more romantic. You knew that the circumstances were not easy and that there would be consequences, you did not concern yourself with that.

The only thing that mattered to you was the two of you and your love for each other.

Tags: @i-like-the-eyes @demi321win-chester

@thefloatingpickle @merryandrewsworld @delicateteenagerunaway

@sadnessanninthedark @e-dubbc11 @ray-is-dead