Okay someone who knows more about dnd than I do help me sort out princess tutu rpg classes. My thoughts so far:
Tbh I could see Duck as either a bard or a cleric. Bard for nonviolent approaches to conflict and a dance focus. That said I could totally see her as a cleric, she’d make a natural fit as the healer of the party and princess tutu could be her deity.
Ok so Fakir has to multiclass in like the most inefficient way right? Starts as a low hp high dps melee fighter and eventually makes the transition to a magic user class (warlock perhaps?? Wizard of some sort?). It’s kind of funny to imagine him as guy who desperately needs a high wis/int but keeps dumping all his stats into strength out of sheer stubbornness. I mean he doesn’t HAVE to switch classes but I think it makes the most sense, he starts in a class that he’s really not suited for and has to transition to what’s best for him even if he’s not happy about it.
Mytho is a natural fit for a paladin tank (though I’d listen to an argument for cleric). He’s throwing himself in the way to protect all the members of the party with no regards to his own safety. Probably dies a lot.
Rue I’m most undecided on. I could see her as a magic using class like Druid (preferred form is a crow) or warlock (makes a pact with the Raven) or even a bard who uses her persuasion to start drama. In a totally different direction, I could also see her as a rogue just to balance out the party; she’s clever, resourceful, nimble, etc.
PLS GIVE ME YOUR THOUGHTS IVE BEEN ARGUING WITH MYSELF ABOUT THIS FOR AGES
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Me to my brain when I joined the TF fandom: No oc's, got it?
Brain: Yep, got it. No oc's. Just canon characters.
Me: That's right because oc's are cringe and we don't need any!
Brain: *less than six months later holding two oc's like the most precious gems in the world*
Me: What. Are. Those.
Brain: *proudly showing them off* These are our oc's! I made them to be super cute too! See look! This one is named Error and he records data and is a minicon and is super nice and had all his kin slaughtered by the Quintessons-
Me: Wait hold on-
Brain: And this one is Delirium and she's a medic who is also a minicon because minicons are cute, and she wears a medical mask all the time because she lived during the rust plague and watched everyone she ever loved die so now she's scared of germs-
Me: Two minicons?
Brain: Yeah! Cuz minicons don't get enough love. Anyway they are also going to eventually fall in love because they are the perfect foils for each other-
Me: *suddenly really invested* Really?
Brain: *nodding enthusiastically* Yep! It's real bittersweet too because Error constantly needs to get his memories wiped in order to not lose his mind and so its super cute as he falls in love with Delirium over and over again every single time!
Me: Dude...
Brain: I love them. We are keeping them... right?
Me: *already coming up with drawings, reference sheets, and a whole fic outline* Absolutely.
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A Slice of Lime, Please⎮Ink Drinker Modern Vikings AU [Ivar x F!Reader]⎮Deleted Scene
read more Ink Drinker here
Author's Note: With the general time line of this blurb, and the video I saw earlier, I've concocted this piece. And trust me, I was grinning like an idiot the whole day at the station as I kept going back to this. This is a much lighter piece over the angst of the next blurb coming. I said what I said.
It’s sweaty bodies, music a bit too loud for your liking, and the general wave of the patterns voices as eye swatch the game on the screen. They pull out quietly, only to round up their decibels a moment later. You agreed to the night out when you were in much better spirits and now you’re following through with it all and you hate it.
These are the moments you loathe—being out with nothing to show for the fact that you and Ivar are together. Except, you’re not. To keep the bubbling beast of Ivar’s anxiety at bay, but you would go to the ends of the earth if you thought it would help him.
Sometimes, you wonder if anyone knows; every so often you catch Hvitserk looking at you for a second more than what seems appropriate. And rather than question it, you let him sit in his own unease with whatever it is he’s searching for. Right now, it’s his expression as he watches you, watch another woman offering to buy Ivar a shot.
You watch this woman undress him with her eyes, pulling the black tee from where it’s tucked to reveal the ink on his chest, the muscles you traced your nails over that morning. How she brings her pupils up and down and wonders if his size matches with what she’s looking at. You have half a mind to tell her that it does. You wonder if she wants to know about his interest, his quirks, or if she just wants to look at him. Instead, you look back at Hvitserk and raise your brows; if you’re going to have a feeling, it better be towards something you can handle.
“What?” You ask Hvitserk and he shakes his head.
“Nothing, nothing,” He lies and you narrow your eyes.
“Hvitty?” You then ask. “Hvitserk,” You demand.
“Y/N, it’s nothing,” He then tells you and you can see he’s starting to dig the hole.
“You’ve been doing that for the last week,” You grumble.
“It’s just…” Hvitserk starts.
“Yeah, a slice of lime, please,” You hear Ivar say to the bar tender.
“On the rig check yesterday…” Hvitserk starts.
“Hey, brother,” Ivar snaps his fingers behind him, “No work talk. No firefighter stuff,” And Ivar turns back around.
“I’m trying to tell something to my partner,” Hvitserk says, placing a very careful emphasis on how he speaks.
“Are you having a stroke?” Ivar tries.
The woman follows, two shots, two lime slices, and she hands Ivar’s respective parts to him.
“No, I’m not,” Hvitserk snaps.
“Well, you’re about to,” Ivar says and he takes the lime slice—and much more quickly than you anticipate from his large hands—shoves the rind between your lips. Without a word to the other woman he tosses the shot back, his neck snapping backwards before his hands reach to your cheeks as he pulls you forward, sucking the lime from between your lips.
You feel your heart stop, your body moves with how Ivar dictates, and Hvitserk doesn’t miss the way you close your eyes, or the way both yours, and Ivar’s beings deflate. He tries so very hard to hide the smile that comes over his lips and he fails. But, he doesn’t quite care.
The moment you feel Ivar slowly pulls back, your eyes open quickly, widely as they watch his slowly open.
“Oops,” He tries, “Must have mixed you two up…” He says so that only you can hear it, bastardly smirk on his lips. “Is she still there?” Ivar adds, louder.
“Nope,” Hvitserk states. “And for the record, Ivar, cardiac arrest is the correct medical term. That wouldn’t cause a stroke,”
“It wouldn’t?” Ivar tries, “Oh, I guess that’s why you majored in para-medicine and I majored in mathematics,”
You spit the lime out into your hand and hand it to Ivar, who only offers you a wink.
“Can’t be surprised by what you already know,” Hvitserk sings.
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