#Even more so the one coat of arms you can found on 'The Wiki of Ice and Fire' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

anonauthorsworkshop · 2 years

Note

MORE MHA SCP AU PLEASE???

sure lol

for new people, this is an AU where MC, (transported to the MHA world), has a summoning SCPs quirk. i have literally never read or watched MHA. everything i know about it is from fanfics alone, so take anything ooc with a grain of salt. you can find more of this AU under the “pp mha au” tag.

You’re convinced that someone cursed you with a horrible streak of luck.

First, you’re shoved into a new existence: a child in a world where society runs on “quirks.”

You’re ill-fated enough to have one -- the ability to pull anomalies of a different cosmos to yours.

Anomalies, as in, unimaginable horrors you once regarded as fiction. Ones you've been killed by in video games, hell, even played as. Ones you've read and seen online. Ones that you know like the back of your hand.

What was once an ambitious wiki project has been rebuilt as a part of your reality.

Whoever gave you, out of all people, the magic to conjure SCPs as you please, has made a horrible, horrible decision. Because you have no idea what to do with them.

To make matters worse, you always seem to run into the "villains" of this universe. A myriad of people have attempted to either kill or steal from you ever since you arrived. And you're just some homeless kid who wants to get back to their cardboard box in the alleyway.

A body enveloped in ear-like growths lays beside you. You rummage through the mass, satisfied once you find your grocery bag. They tried to steal from you.

They're dead now, though. Thanks to the teddy bear you hold in your arms, made entirely of human ears.

As you walk back to your makeshift cardboard home, you come to the reminder that you may be acting too nonchalant for your situation.

You can't blame yourself. Instead of feeling, you've shut everything down. Maybe that's what you need to do in order to get by each day. It's fine.

Who draws the line of fiction, anyway?

Gripping the bear closer, you decide to further indulge in the comfort of hugging stuffed animals. Even if the plaything's sentient.

Another cold case.

Another dead body to add to the pile.

Tsukauchi Naomasa rubs his nose, mouth parted. These homicides have been continuous for a month, unsolved.

Mysterious disappearances. Bodies with their necks snapped. Limbs torn apart, portions seemingly eaten. Corrosive secretions seeping through skin. Marks of claws and teeth at a size inhumane.

And today, another body found with the skin, trachea, and internal organs coated with the same ear-like appendages.

The first responders started to bring a bucket with them to throw up in.

Tsukauchi can't blame them. These bodies have all been discovered in grotesque forms. But they do have a commonality.

They're all villains. Thieves, murderers, prison escapists. Each body identified with a face even recognizably human had criminal records.

It seems a vigilante has found their calling.

Or, rather, a group of vigilantes. That is the recent debate. The causes of death have all been different. A single quirk could not be responsible for each case.

However, it's contradictory. A significant amount of people must be involved in these murders if so -- but each murder has been committed in a certain region, not across the country. Coordinating a group of this size in such a small area would ultimately lead to their downfall.

They waited for a mistake. The deaths didn't stop.

These cases aren't normal. They're irrational. Logic only applies to a certain extent. It's impossible to fully explain them until further evidence is provided.

Tsukauchi doesn't like to admit it, but like the rest, he's stumped. The detectives are all-

He pauses at a familiar ringtone, reaching for his phone. Humming at the caller's name, he accepts the incoming call.

"I have something that may be of help!"

"All Might?" Tsukauchi inquires, putting the phone on speaker. "What is it? It's unusual for you to call at this time of night."

"Before I found that speed-quirk villain, I saw something."

Tsukauchi blinks, listening intently. Was this the evidence they needed?

"Actually, I saw someone."

"Oh?" The detective grins. "Do tell."

#anonymous #author #answered #ask #pansophical pretender #pp mha au #mha #scp #scp x reader #mha x reader #scp 1048 #scp 1048 a #detective tsukauchi #all might

261 notes · View notes

nekos-nightmare · 1 year

Text

BSD Dazai Osamu x Reader: Summer Vacation.

The story was based on the Bungo Mayoi Card- 0316 Dazai Osamu: Summer Vacation and the time is two years after he left the Mafia.

You guys can look for the story here: https://bsdmayoi.fandom.com/wiki/0316_Dazai_Osamu

It's just an old draft so not good and my health is quite bad, after getting better, I will start to focus on writing more.

‪𓂃𓈒𓏸︎︎︎︎⁡🌸*✲ﾟ*𓂃𓈒𓏸︎︎︎︎⁡🌸*✲ﾟ*𓂃𓈒𓏸︎︎︎︎⁡🌸 *✲ﾟ*‬‪𓂃𓈒𓏸︎︎︎︎⁡🌸*✲ﾟ*𓂃𓈒𓏸︎︎︎︎⁡🌸*✲ﾟ*𓂃𓈒𓏸︎︎︎︎⁡🌸 *✲ﾟ*‬‪𓂃𓈒𓏸︎︎︎︎⁡🌸*✲ﾟ*𓂃𓈒𓏸︎︎︎︎⁡🌸*✲ﾟ*𓂃𓈒𓏸︎︎︎︎⁡🌸 *✲ﾟ*‬

After many days off, and relaxing on the beach, the holiday is finally over. Time passed so quickly, yet the night had fallen to cover the coast, leaving all the bustle of the morning left with an unusually quiet landscape.

While everyone is enjoying the last day of the holiday, you feel a bit empty. Turns out Dazai was gone, normally it's at times like this that Dazai is the one to make things busier but where is he now? A little worried, you search the room, asking each person but no one knows where he went. Suddenly, you subconsciously look out the window, towards the bright moonlight in the night, and you immediately realize that there is a familiar figure in the distance standing in the cold seawater.

You quickly put on a thin coat and ran out quickly, looking for that person's shadow. You just kept walking along the beach, walking without knowing when it was too far from the hotel, but strangely, you didn't feel scared at all about it. All you do is let the moonlight guide your way to finding that person.

Finally, you come to a rather deserted area, perhaps because few people are passing by but the trees around are tall, and all over the sand are seashells, snail shells, and starfish that were hit by the waves. The scene looks romantic but full of sad feelings.

You finally found him.

In the distance, Dazai was in the middle of the sea, he kept walking until the water level was a little higher than his ankles before stopping. Dazai holds small fireworks in his hands, lights them up, and then gently swings his arms, the rays of light from the fireworks shoot out with his gentle movements, combined with the starry night sky that looks like [Fireworks are falling along with the stars].

Dazai's eyes were constantly glued to those rays of light, even though he was smiling, his gaze was a bit lonely. That scene made your heart burn like fire, you tried to walk to him step by step, despite the waves that seemed to stop you along with the bone-chilling water in the middle of the night.

Fortunately, the waves are not too strong, so you can easily overcome them. You stopped when you were only a few feet away from Dazai, standing looking at his lonely back in the middle of the sea. Dazai's eyes were still focused on the light trails of the fireworks, reflecting the rays of light like a mirror, as if it were reflecting the starry night sky.

"Dazai..."

He suddenly jumped when he heard your voice calling his name. It seems to be because his mind has merged with the ocean, to the point where he no longer realizes that you are near. Seeing his surprised face makes you more nervous because Dazai rarely shows that kind of expression.

"(Y/N), you shouldn't be here, you'll catch a cold," Dazai replied, his voice a little shaky, his face seeming to relax a little.

"I'm not that weak, you're the one who shouldn't be here in the middle of the night.."

"I'm just enjoying the beauty of this beach, it's just that it reminds me of some memories."As soon as Dazai finished his reply, you immediately realized he was thinking about his old friends, unfortunately, one of them is no longer in this world.

Dazai reached out his arm, gently patting you on the head. Feeling the warmth from his palm, you feel a lot lighter inside. Suddenly, his hand is intertwined with yours, holding it tightly, and the other hand moves as if drawing something in the air:

" When I wave this sparkler around, I can write and draw things in the sky. Do you know what I just wrote?

“No, how could I have guessed when you were moving so fast?” You giggled because Dazai looked like a child playing with his toy.

“Then I will slow it down this time.”

[ I love you.]

Your cheeks start to blush, but you quickly realize the difference, you pout:

“Stop teasing me, obviously this is a different word right?”

“Because this is for you, it was a secret just now.” Dazai chuckled, pulling your body into a tight hug.

Your body is now filled with this sweetness, and your hands are on Dazai's cheeks, giving a warm smile.

"Don't worry, I will never leave you."

Dazai's heart is now a bit heavy mixed with happiness. Because two years ago, he used to have fun on this beach with two old friends with the hope that the joy would last forever, but it never came true. He is afraid that one day you will be like them and will leave him from this world.

Dazai hugs you tighter, his feelings are getting stronger, he wants to scream or cry like a child, and wants to be comforted by you. He wants to be relieved of the pain that he has endured by sharing with you his burden, but he is also afraid that it would affect you.

The space is very gloomy now, just two people hugging each other in the middle of the sea, the waves are no longer rushing like before, the sea wind howls, through each rock crevice as if singing, and the moon is bright and the stars are shining down as if blessing you and him.

Suddenly a voice came from afar, maybe other people were looking for the two of you, you went out for too long without telling the others, so it's natural for them to worry. You hurriedly pulled Dazai's hand to the shore to find your way back. Seeing that, he carefully carried you into his arms like a princess and moved quickly to avoid other people's eyes.

“Shall we take in the stars with a drink?”

"All right." You gently stroked his hair, thinking that sometimes it's okay to indulge him a little bit.

#bsd x reader #bungou stray dog x reader #dazai x reader #dazai osamu #dazai fanfic #bungo stray dogs #bsd dazai

113 notes · View notes

bracketsoffear · 8 months

Text

Clara/The Changeling (Pathologic) "Clara does not exist until the game begins. She takes on the role of a healer in this town with an emerging plague, but the first person she attempts to heal dies. She is told that someone who looks exactly like her is committing crimes in the town, so she has to actively work to maintain her reputation throughout the game, or else citizens will start to attack her in the street.

Though she does have healing abilities, the game purposefully misleads you on how they are used. She doesn't understand it any more than you do. She is also aware that she is a character in a video game, and knows that she cannot exist outside the framework of the game. Because Pathologic is about a town dying to the plague that you are trying your hardest to prevent, and then mitigate, and then destroy at any cost, Clara comes to believe that she is the cause of the plague. After all, she cannot exist in a world without one. She comes into being as the game begins, and will likely stop existing after it is over, as what more is there for her to do? Kill an already dead town? Save an already healed town?

Each character you can play as can choose their own ending, and hers involves asking people to sacrifice themselves to her routinely to keep the town alive. Even when you make the correct choices and try to heal the town, the plague is still a constant threat and will never truly go away, and Clara is indeed responsible for this looming threat, as her healing hands are the ones people are blindly following into a routine of self-sacrifice and reminder of the plague that almost destroyed their town. In a way, it is fully possible to interpret her character as the true source of the plague, and the game allows you to believe this. There isn't really anything to contradict it, after all."

Taylor Hebert/Skitter (Worm) "Taylor gained the ability to detect and control a wide variety of bugs and bug-like creatures (including insects, spiders, earthworms, and crustaceans) after being stuffed into a locker full of used tampons and pads. She set out to become a superhero, but ended up becoming a supervillain named Skitter instead. Her powers let her inflict anaphylactic shock (bee stings), comas (black widow spiders), tissue necrosis (brown recluse spiders) or death (all of the above), and she later gets access to bullet ants for 24 hours of pain. The applications she’s found for her powers include include attacking with hundreds of venomous creatures, spying on people from two blocks away by looking through the eyes of insects, devising a bullet-resistant costume by commanding spiders to spin one from their silk, improvising a costume with carefully directed insects (which not only conceals her identity but intimidates her opponents with a giant, creepy-looking human-shaped swarm), arming even the nonstinging, nonvenomous insects (imagine being divebombed by bugs whose undersides are coated in capsaicin who are guided to your mouth, nostrils, and eyes), have her bugs vibrate to mimic speech, using bugs pull the pins on grenades, employing spider threads as triplines or to cocoon people, and even killing a Nigh Invulnerable character by cramming insects down their throat so that they suffocate. After what she did to Lung, The Merchants, and Dragon, she is considered, quote, "one of the scariest motherfuckers in town." By the end of the story, this has been upgraded to 'one of the scariest motherfuckers in the multiverse'. After Scion's defeat the entire superhero community goes out of their way to forget her because they're so traumatized by what Khepri did. It's eventually revealed in Ward that, since no-one knows what happened to her, the entire superhero community tries to avoid saying her name because they're scared of drawing her attention."

Image from the Worm Wiki, credit to Neoworm.

#corruption poll #the corruption #the magnus archives #poll #redemption bracket #pathologic #worm

15 notes · View notes

pomnenka-kyticka · 1 year

Text

Ravka from slavic person pov

I wanted to talk about Ravka and its culture for quite some time now. Keep in mind that Ravka is inspired by Russia and I am not Russian. I´m Slavic tho and I have some points that stood out to me (mainly) from the KoS duology. My sources are my bad memory and The Grishaverse Wiki.

I´ll start with the similarities and explain a few things you might have missed. The Ravkan coat of arms is the double-headed eagle. If you´d look at Russia´s coat of arms it is also a double-headed eagle. They have some different detailing but even at first glance, you can notice the origins of the Lantsov coat of arms. Serbia also has the double-headed eagle on its coat of arms and Albania has it on its flag (but it mostly resembles the Russian version). It originated from the Byzantine Empire´s double-headed eagle which adapted to some of the countries that used to belong to it after its fall.

The names and surnames have been discussed a lot so I´ll be brief with that. I think that it´s fine to change the grammar rules about names but it should have made more sense. Slavic languages have gendered surnames and there are two versions. One for women of that name and one for men with the same surname. For example, Zoya would (according to the grammar) be called NazyalenskA, not NazyalenskY. I don´t have a problem with distancing the Grishaverse from the real world by swapping those rules, but I feel like they were just thrown around randomly and that didn´t really make sense. I still liked the names and think they were memorable. Also, this isn´t a critique but I think that there weren´t enough (if any) nicknames. The only mention of nicknames (that I can remember) is that the Grisha are called Grisha because it´s named after the first one Grigorij. Which doesn´t really make sense if you avoid the use of nicknames.

Ok, moving on to the next topic: food. I must say, I really didn´t like the portrayal of Ravkan food in the books (at least KoS duology). The thing that I remembered from RoW is when Nikolai is leaving some dinner and comments on his chef’s food. He says that he found even more things to put in aspic. It all sounded more like a caricature of the actual Slavic food. While there are dishes that use aspic, I wouldn´t say that is something that defines it. There is much more to Russian cuisine than various ingredients covered in aspic...

Some things I liked: mention of permafrost and climate in Ravka, the worship of the Saints (supposedly based on Slavic paganism), and Sankt Juris who is probably a Grishaverse portrayal of Saint George. Oh, also the pronunciation of names from Fedyor´s actor was on top!!

That would be all. I hope this wasn´t too confusing (in my defense it is late and this was proofread by Grammarly).

#grishaverse #ravka #king of scars #rule of wolves #nikolai lantsov #zoya nazyalensky #alina starkov #alexander morozova #mal oretsev #nina zenik #genya safin #david kostyk #shadow and bone #shadow and bone netflix

13 notes · View notes

oxenfurt-archives · 3 years

Text

When the Time Comes - witcheress Ważka aka Dragonfly

The Witcher Lore (143/∞)

Gra Wyobraźni

Gra Wyobraźni, A Game of Imagination, is a pen-and-paper role-playing game published by MAG in 2001. There's no English translation of the system other than the ones created by fans, and even those are more focused on the mechanics of the game than the bits and pieces of lore. And there's surprising a lot of lore. Most of it obviously no longer applies to the versions of canon presented in the CDPR's games and Netflix show, but are still pretty interesting.

Gdy nadejdzie czas

On wiki the title is was translated to When the Time Comes. The story was published in polish rpg magazine Gwiezdny Pirat (issue 8 from 2004) written by Joanna and Maciej Szaleniec, writers involved in never published expansion about the Falka's Rebellion. Gdy nadejdzie czas was supposed to be one of the adventures leading up to that expansion, but unfortunately the publishing house MAG ceased to exist before it could be finished.

The adventure takes place in the 1160s in Gemmera, before the kingdom was conquered by Nilfgaard. The party should be composed of the Prince, heir to the throne, son of late prince Wodaryk and Dairida, who after 16 years returns to the homeland his mentor and other friends. The Prince had to fly from Gemmera when he was 12 - Wodaryk was killed by his own brother, Ponderyk. Ponderyk wanted to make it look like Dairida and her son were responsible for Wodaryk's death, so he could easily take the throne for himself. But the Prince managed to escape and only Dairida was imprisoned. The new prince of Gemmera locked her in a tower, Wieża Wiatrów [Tower of the Winds], from where she never escaped, lost her mind within the wall of her cell and eventually died. When the Prince and his party visit the tower they can't find anything that could have belonged to Dairida, no one other than her was held there, but it's just an abandoned place. Only the ones with really keen eyes can notice the traces of writing on walls, floors, and even the ceiling. All that can actually be read is a nursery rhyme:

Aa-a, kotki dwa, zaśnij już, córeczko ma, nie płacz, nie kwil, będziesz śpiewać, gdy nadejdzie czas.

My rough translation: Aha, two kittens / sleep my daughter now / don't cry, don't whine / you will sing one day / when the time comes.

[Also it seems to be to some extent based on the most popular polish lullaby Ach śpij kochanie that was first performed in the movie in 1938. So that's a fun fact.]

In this seemingly crazy rhyme, the Prince finds a clue that will help him fight Ponderyk - in her prison Dairida gave birth to Wodaryk's daughter and trusted Destiny to keep her safe.

As the Prince learns from common gemmerians, there was a legend about Wodaryk fighting a monster, just a few nights before he was killed. The seven-headed dragon lost most of its head to Wodaryk, but had the prince pinned to the ground, reading another attack, and then the vedymin from Stygga appeared. He proposed Wodaryk a deal, Vedymin will help with killing the dragon, and the prince will give him "what he already has at home, but doesn't expect". Wodaryk agreed and Vedymir cut off the seventh head of the monster. This story leads the Prince to believe that Dairida believed that her daughter will be safe in Stygga castle among the witchers of the school of the cat.

The party travels to Stygga, a grim, full of cruel mutants castle. The is plenty of gossips about the cat witchers and their experiments, who they change even the youngest ones, even the unborn ones. Cat witchers are fast and capable warriors and mages, with shattered minds - unable to coexist with the rest of society. But they greet the Prince and his companions and point out the child that was found years ago on a beach underneath the Tower of the Winds.

Ważka is a 15 years old witcheress - she's the monster slayer, not a princess. Uncannily agile. The only thing that makes her look anything like Dairida is her strong and healthy golden hair, braided in a single thick braid. She doesn't care about her legacy, but she agrees to go with the Prince back to the Tower of the Winds and try to find some other clue their mother could have left behind.

[Ważka is a name of insect, dragonfly, but it can be also a feminine form of somewhat old-timey ważki, meaning important, crucial]

Before the party reaches the Tower of the Winds they are however met with forces of Ponderyk and the prince himself. Most of the people of Gemmera heard of the return of the Prince and they start to doubt the legitimacy of Ponderyk's claim to the throne. That's why Ponderyk is forced to meet with his nephew and speak with him. Ponderyk tries to persuade the Prince to join him, as the fight between the two of them would inevitably lead the country to ruin. Ponderyk's speech is so successful that the Prince is ready to agree to do whatever uncle wishes of him. But Ważka doesn't feel the same - she's immune to Ponderyk's magical words and without even climbing down from her horse, she simply kicks uncle right in the jaw. The party regains their senses and realizes that they were under the charm - Ponderyk wasn't really speaking, his mouth is empty. Years ago he gave his tongue away for the magical powers of persuasion. The party fights Ponderyk's forces.

After the battle, the Prince notices that Ważka's clothing was ripped revealing her naked back and a weird old tattoo on her skin. The shape is deformed but still resembles Gemmera's coat of arms. All her life Ważka believed that the mark is just an ugly deformation after the Changes she did undergo during her training. Instead, it's a clue Dairida left their children - she tattooed on newborn's skin a map of one of the provinces of the country, with a single dot marking a spot there.

It's deep in the mountains where people rarely wander, where the party finds a cave occupied by the same monster years ago fought Wodaryk. The monster was placed there by Ponderyk, to guar whatever is deeper in the cave. After the party kills the monster they go inside and discover the old abandoned shrine dedicated to Coram Agh Tera, The Cult of the Lionheaded Spider. Years ago the cultist convinced young and ambitious Ponderyk to join them. They promised him power and the throne, and Podaryk cut off his own tongue and offered it to the Spider, who gave him the power of manipulation. As long as the tongue is within the temple, Ponderyk can use his dark powers. Cultists planned to use the prince and blackmail him, but Ponderyk was smarter - he killed all of them but Strażniczka Bramy [Keeper of the Gate]. The old woman was imprisoned in her temple where for years she performed rituals preventing the Spider God from leaving the mountains.

Sixteen years ago, just a few days before Ponderyk killed Wodaryk, the priestess used her powers to give Wodaryk a dream - revealing to him the location of her cave as well as warn against the brother. Wodaryk went to investigate this, fought the monster, was saved by the witcher, and wounded returned to his castle where he was killed by Ponderyk. Now knowing everything the Prince can destroy Ponderyk's tongue, leaving him mute, decide what to do with the traitor, and take back his throne.

The story seemingly has seemingly a happy ending, but as it turns out while Ponderyk was a greedy dictator, his dark powers made him also a remarkable diplomat. It was he who negotiated Gemmera's independence from Nilfgaardian Empire... And soon after his dethronement, Nilfgaard once again begins to pose a threat to Gemmera.

#the witcher #witcher lore #school of the cat #dragonfly witcher #ważka witcher #wiedźmin gra wyobraźni #the witcher trpg

63 notes · View notes

ogsherlockholmes · 2 years

Text

The Stolen Cigar Case

In my Sherlock Holmes collection, there is a book included that is a collection of short stories inspired by Sherlock Holmes. For example, there are parodies in there or other detective stories similar to Sherlock. One of there parodies is written by Bret Harte and it is called The Stolen Cigar Case. The detective in it is called Hemlock Jones, which isn’t even the strangest part, and it is narrated by an unnamed character that is supposed to take the place of John Watson.

In the story, Hemlock Jones is living at Brook Street lodgings. The narrator enters and begins massaging his shoe (?). Hemlock makes a deduction, which was really simple, but the narrator was very impressed. They then talk about other ridiculous cases Hemlock has solved, before he announces that someone has stole his cigar case. The narrator tries to help him by suggesting ways to find it, which Hemlock writes down. Hemlock then leaves to do something, so the narrator looks through the jars in the apartment, all containing wildly specific substances. The narrator tries to open Hemlock’s drawers to see if he forgot that he put his cigar case in there, but one of the handles was sticky. He goes to sleep, and thinks he can feel hands in his pockets, then wakes up to see Hemlock smiling at him. The narrator goes to leave, and Hemlock hugs him (?) and helps him put on his coat. During the days after, he finds Hemlock wearing disguises in the street, but pretends he doesn’t recognise him. One day, he visits Hemlock. Hemlock accuses him if stealing the cigar case, and lists how he knew it was him, but they were all ridiculous reasons. The narrator continuously tells him that he didn’t steal it, but Hemlock would shout at him every time. At the end, the narrator opens the drawer and Hemlock’s cigar case is in there. Hemlock kicks him out.

These are all lines that are taken from it:

[The narrator] gently caressed his [Hemlock Jones] boot.

[After Hemlock knew it was raining] There was no deceiving this man!

I became dumb at once.

I rose and embraced him warmly.

"Do you remember the cigar case presented to me by the Turkish Ambassador for discovering the missing favorite of the Grand Vizier in the fifth chorus girl at the Hilarity Theatre? It was that one. I mean the cigar case. It was incrusted with diamonds."

I could scarcely believe my senses. He, the great Hemlock Jones, accepting suggestions from a humble individual like myself! I kissed his hand reverently

Left to myself I cast a cursory glance over his shelves. There were a number of small glass jars containing earthy substances, labeled "Pavement and Road Sweepings," from the principal thoroughfares and suburbs of London, with the sub-directions "for identifying foot-tracks." There were several other jars, labeled "Fluff from Omnibus and Road Car Seats," "Cocoanut Fibre and Rope Strands from Mattings in Public Places," "Cigarette Stumps and Match Ends from Floor of Palace Theatre, Row A, 1 to 50." Everywhere were evidences of this wonderful man's system and perspicacity.

When I came fully to my senses, I found Hemlock Jones sitting on the other side of the hearth, his deeply concentrated gaze fixed on the fire.

"I found you so comfortably asleep that I could not bear to awaken you," he said, with a smile.

on my turning to go he embraced me warmly—a rare exhibition in that man of ice. He even helped me on with my overcoat and pulled out and smoothed down the flaps of my pockets. He was particular, too, in fitting my arm in my overcoat sleeve, shaking the sleeve down from the armhole to the cuff with his deft fingers.

There is a lot more in there, so this is the link for the PDF https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Condensed_Novels:_Second_Series/The_Stolen_Cigar_Case

When I read this, I thought this was a modern day parody, but it was written in 1900. The fact that people were basically writing fanfiction in the Victorian times is hilarious, but also how they wrote it so that Watson deeply admired Sherlock.

#sherlock #bbc sherlock #sherlock holmes #arthur conan doyle #fanfic #notreallysherlockbutanyway

3 notes · View notes

coffeewaff1e · 4 years

Text

This is my opinion on Kimi’s merch. I just wanna say that I also love this man a lot, he was basically why I fell in love with the sport itself. I’ve supported this man for his driving and interview ways but that doesn’t mean I agree with everything he does.

The merch line I’m talking about is the one with West Coast Choppers (WCC), founded by Jesse James (JJ). Things will be hyperlinked for easy reference. This gets very long. I’m long-winded.

So in case you didn’t know, Kimi’s merch has raised some eyebrows due to certain symbols on them that could point towards the Nazi Party. Namely being his face mask and t-shirt design as seen below:

Now, where does the Nazi symbolism come in? Let me start with the face mask. On the right of “7″, there is a symbol, and it’s supposed to point towards WCC, since it is their logo (1st in collage below).

However, it is more commonly known as an Iron Cross (2nd pic below) and it has been in use for a very long time, ever since 1813 as a military decoration. Nazi Germany picked it up in 1933, with an added swastika in the centre (3rd pic below). Now compare those three and look at the logo of WCC, pretty damn similar right?

The Iron Cross, with the swastika, is still unfortunately used by and seen on neo-Nazis. It’s also recognised as a hate symbol. In the article linked, it is said that bikers adopted the Iron Cross to add “shock value” or to signify rebellion and as time went on, it became a logo used by many on clothing, equipment, etc. So we do have to keep in mind what context we see the Iron Cross in, as it’s not always representing neo-Nazism or white supremacy.

JJ has said before that his logo is actually based on the Maltese Cross (2nd pic below), and I don’t need my glasses to see that they’re very different.

Instead I think he might’ve actually been referring to the Cross Pattée (3rd pic below), which is a similar cross that at times, is mistakenly referred to as the Maltese Cross. However, it is worth noting that the Iron Cross is recognised as a variant of the Cross Pattée. (mentioned in the Wiki articles of Cross Pattée and Maltese Cross)

So, the WCC logo is a Cross Pattée, which the Iron Cross is a variant of, but definitely not a Maltese Cross, as stated by JJ.

So now you would say, it’s a Cross Pattée, not an Iron Cross, therefore there’s no link to Nazis. I can agree with you on that, it is a stretch to connect the 2 at this point, but let me add more context as I go along in this post. Bear with me.

Moving on to the t-shirt design.

“Kimi” is designed with a lightning bolt for the “K”, to represent him being fast, as seen from the t-shirt’s name, “Kimi Fast As Heck Tee”.

Though...there is also a hate symbol that depict lightning bolts, called the SS Bolts (seen below). As you can tell from the name, it’s also related to neo-Nazism and white supremacy. You might say, “both bolts (“K” and SS bolt) are different”, which I agree they are, but who in their right mind would copy it so blatantly? Would you want WCC to add another bolt? Make the base of the bolt in the “K” to be flat as well? This is already after they’ve been accused before of using Nazi symbols and having their merch outright banned for it.

Like the Iron Cross, the bikers adopted it for themselves. So, we cannot say for sure that just because they sport this symbol, they’re bad.

I know lightning bolts are used EVERYWHERE. Even Harry Potter had one on his forehead...does that mean he’s bad too?! No. With context provided, things can change. So if the books had mentioned Harry doing salutes with his right hand and swastikas decorating his room then that bolt would mean something...🤷🏻‍♀️y’know🤷🏻‍♂️.

So is it still a stretch at this point to say WCC/the design is linked to neo-Nazis? Yes, but the stretch has lessened a little bit.

We move on to just WCC and JJ now. I’m just going to straight up use these pictures lol. I don’t think there’s anything much to say for the 1st pic, it speaks a thousand words. 2nd pic, I understand it’s his friend doing something stupid but JJ seems fine with it and it’s obvious he doesn’t find it wrong, as evidenced by the 1st pic.

Now, let’s look at a bit of WCC’s merch that I found online. There are other designs I wanted to include as well but I’ll just focus on these two.

Left | Right

Do they look familiar? No?

How about now?

The Reichsadler (Imperial Eagle), is the heraldic eagle used by the Holy Roman Emperors and in the coats of arms of Germany, even till now. Different eras in Germany had different depictions. Nazis used the ones above, with swastikas.

It is also recognised as a hate symbol, appropriated by neo-Nazis and white supremacists. In their case, the swastika can be replaced by other symbols such as the SS Bolts or Celtic Cross. In places where swastikas are prohibited, the inside of the circle/wreath are occasionally left blank.

Notice how both the swastika and WCC logo is tilted slightly, and how a wreath is being held by the eagle on the white shirt. The resemblance is uncanny, no?

Before you bring up the eagle depicted on the Great Seal of the United States, I’m just going to say, don’t. The designs are very different and original sketches of it dates all the way back to 1782. It uses a bald eagle, holds an olive branch and arrows on each leg and has a shield as the focal element.

The 2nd pic looks more like the 1st than the 3rd. Just saying.

I’m at the end of my comparisons. If I see everything on it’s own, without taking into account the others for more background/context, of course there’s no link to Nazis or whatever. It’s just a Cross Pattée and a lightning bolt. No big deal, right?

Bikers, which is what WCC is about, did use the Iron Cross and SS Bolts for shock value. They weren’t promoting neo-Nazism or white supremacy with them.

But now that I’ve shown you the pictures of JJ and his friend doing a Nazi Salute and other merch resembling Nazi symbols, it kinda adds up. It’s no longer a stretch to say it’s linked, it’s reasonable. I’ve given you more context, do with it what you will.

To me, WCC designs are in very poor taste since they are based on “outlaw biker culture”, who literally appropriated them from Nazis. Am I calling them Nazis? No, because I don’t know what went through their minds when they designed and approved them, so I can’t say that. I am, however, calling them really fucking stupid though, and that’s being nice. They have shown that they do not care for what the symbols represent and the history behind it, it’s being wilfully ignorant.

So for Kimi to collaborate with them? It’s disappointing for sure. For him to wear it so blatantly? I’m just gonna say he’s an idiot, because I really don’t think he knows what it means, which...might seem confusing but Kimi really doesn’t seem to be the sharpest tool in the shed when it comes to stuff outside of F1 cars. Really. I honestly think he sees things in a literal way so this collaboration to him is just with a famous person and motorcycles, nothing else. At this point, I just hope he stops wearing them and stops the collaboration.

So the above was the logical and rational part of me explaining why I think it’s wrong for Kimi to have those symbols on his merch. It is my opinion and my perspective.

Now here comes the irrational part of me cause I feel like it’s really obvious?

The damn crosses are so similar, like wtf Cross Pattée or not, it still looks like a fucking Iron Cross, no?? And who do we think of when we think of the Iron Cross? Then there’s the SS Bolt, which is nothing on its own but seeing WCC’s other merch with the fucking eagle holding a wreath with the WCC logo tilted, JUST LIKE THE NAZI’S, isn’t it fucking obvious?? Omg like I don’t like people “reaching” or “twisting things to fit the agenda” but this is literally fucking not. I started out trying to defend Kimi in my mind but after reading about JJ and seeing the other WCC merch designs, I just can’t.

Context/background matters!! Though it wasn’t really a good one, please refer back to my Harry Potter and his lightning scar example.

I also liked what @mistressemmedi had to say about it here.

This post won’t show up in searches/tags so...haha fml I’m speaking into a void.

#f1 #formula one #formula 1 #kimi raikkonen #kimi räikkönen #me

62 notes · View notes

necromancy-savant · 3 years

Text

Recently I gave into the internet ads telling me to come back to Runescape for its 20th anniversary. Back in 7th or 8th grade it was my first MMO and a game I was totally hooked on for a few years. I think I played the most from about 2004-2007 and last played in 2009. After two weeks of being completely unable to tear myself away from it, I’ve compiled my thoughts into a pros and cons list, compared to what I remember from middle/high school.

Pros:

Leveling is way faster. I don’t think it’s just that I’m better at video games now or that you can easily get xp lamps from the Treasure Hunter mini game (in fact, the easiest way I’ve found to level is to complete quests to get Treasure Hunter keys and then use the xp rewards on combat skills), the levels themselves just go up faster even when you’re doing them normally. This is great for me as a returning player because I’m now getting close to being back to where I was without having to spend months or years getting there.

You can also make money faster and easier. Everything costs more but you also get more money, so I now have 2 mil, but this has about the buying power that 200k did back in the day. Regardless, I can’t imagine getting 200k this easily back in high school. I did it mostly by selling random items on the grand exchange, getting rewards for quest point milestones, and mining and smithing.

The combat is more similar to that of other MMOs where you have an ability bar. You can choose to ignore this and put it on autopilot or just set the combat to work the way it used to. Either way the animations look a lot better and more varied, there are way more weapons, and you can dual wield now.

Most skills actually give you more to actually do while leveling them. For example, while mining, you have to click on different rocks periodically or they won’t yield any more ore.

You now start the game with tool belt that comes with a tinderbox, chisel, hatchet, pickaxe, etc. that is separate from your inventory.

A lot of the quests have been reworked and many new ones are fully voice acted. It is a little weird having the NPC chat heads come with audio while mine is still silent, but I just read aloud for my character and that’s fun for me.

The graphics, while still not fantastic, are greatly improved, particularly the environments. Al Kharid looks stunning. The human character models are a bit dated, but it’s come to my attention that they are in the process of completely overhauling them.

Character customization is less limited and in particular is much more convenient. You can change your hairstyle for free at any time, all the outfits from the in-game store in Varrock are free, and the gender wizard who can trans your gender (sorry, Makeover Mage) also offers services for free now.

The Free-To-Play content has gotten a pretty decent upgrade. Skills, quests, and areas that were once Members Only are now F2P (notably, the quest where you get a kitten, Burthorpe and Taverley, and most if not all of the new fully voiced quests.) There are a number of entirely new skills, but I haven’t really tried any of them yet. I will make time for Archaeology at some point.

Many of my cons are going to be “they removed x,” but the easy solution there is to just play Old School Runescape. While I myself have been too preoccupied with RS3 to play any OSRS, I think the community over there is actually larger.

The community seems very chill on the whole and is mostly just players trying to have a good time and help each other out. Everyone is just like, getting stoned/drunk and vibing in this game.

There’s an achievement system that will direct you to specific challenges and give you something to do if you’re lost/overwhelmed. Particularly useful in the beginning.

Fast travel for everyone, no Magic skill requirements.

The website itself links to a Runescape Wiki that has all the game info and quest walkthroughs you could want in one place.

The quests are still fun and unique for an MMO. Lots of puzzles and creative problem-solving, lots of twists and turns.

Cons:

They took away the random events. All those NPCs are now scattered around the world. The Sandwich Lady now runs a bakery stall in Ardougne.

The Burthorpe Games Room is gone. How am I supposed to play Connect Four using death runes as my game pieces so everyone knows how edgy I am? Actually, Burthorpe on the whole looks different and a lot smaller, but at least the trolls look really cool now.

They removed the Romeo and Juliet quest and now there are 0 quests based on Shakespeare plays when really there should be 37. We are moving in the wrong direction here.

The quest Imp Catcher has been revamped so that now the beads are based on the four humors and you have to recover them from imps that have swallowed them and taken on those characteristics, and yet for some reason they missed the opportunity to rename the quest “Every Imp in (or out of) His Humour.”

This is the part where I admit that I shelled out the ten dollars for a month of membership so I could revisit all my favorite areas. While many of the F2P areas have received massive improvements, not all the Members areas have. I don’t think Ardougne has seen an update since 2008, which is a shame since it was my favorite city.

The dark wizards in front of Varrock don’t attack you on sight anymore. Idk why this bothers me but I found it shocking upon discovery.

The cities and towns now each have their own coat of arms which is cool except that I disagree with the colors they chose. Varrock should be red and blue, Ardougne should be blue and white, Falador should be white and black, and Lumbridge should be green and blue. I could go on. This is every bit as vital to me as knowing which color folders/notebooks go with which school subjects.

The fast leveling does mean that practically everyone is at least level 100 and there’s not quite the same sense of accomplishment that used to come with reaching a high level. While it used to be very rare to see someone at the level cap it is now quite common. Still, this is on the whole a very small price to pay to be able to do more of what I enjoy without grinding for hours on end (for those who aren’t aware, you unlock many quests in this game by meeting skill requirements.)

This game is very British. I don’t think I realized just how British it is when I was younger. One of the primary downsides of this is that the aforementioned wiki’s quest walkthroughs call the first floor the ground floor, which is all well and good, but then they call the second floor the first floor and the third floor the second floor and I’ve gotten lost on multiple occasions specifically because of this.

While there is an “outfit” system that lets you override whatever you’re wearing with special appearances you can unlock through various means, there is nothing like the WoW transmog system which would allow you to override it with other in-game items.

Combat abilities are sort of locked by weapon. Like you can’t really do magic without a staff.

All in all, my impression is that Jagex has made a ton of quality-of-life changes while keeping everything that made the game great.

TL;DR play this game it’s worth it.

6 notes · View notes

zedecksiew · 4 years

Text

Encounters on the Paper Route

(Am still procrastinating by writing this 40K-adventure thing.)

+++

ENCOUNTERS IN THE CORRIDORS

You are bound to run into something:

1: d20 crew. A single power tool between them 2: d6 armsmen. Nervous, running low on ammo 3: d6 work servitors. Led by a robed tech-adept 4: Rats. Swarming and running over each other 5: A midshipman. Inexperienced, trigger-happy 6: A grot on stilts. Wearing a midshipman’s coat

1: Hiding from 2: Surprised by 3: Clumsily tracking 4: Trying to escape 5: Wrestling down 6: Cornered by

1: A screeching klaxon. It drowns out your voice. 2: Pressure: groaning, hissing, twisting the pipes. 3: d4 security servitors. Who’s controlling them? 4: d20 grots. Whoopy, letting off wooden blastas. 5: A cameleoline shimmer. This is Irrigomantayel. 6: A genestealer. An ominous clatter in the vents.

The first time you roll doubles, you also meet Soror Vihart. She is tailed by an altar boy, who watches her -- and you -- for heresy.

+++

VIHART EMPEROR’S-DAUGHTER, SOROR DIALOGOUS

“I’m cataloguing warp phenomena. I’m going to be a primary source!” A servo-skull records her observations in a slate-covered codex.

Usually cloistered in a library, Vihart is excited to be on this field trip. No filter. Once she starts info-dumping it’s hard to get her to stop.

+++

GROTS

“Orkus diminutas, the Gretchin. A secondary component of green-skin ecology.

According to Taeltis et al they are part-fungus; once their spores get into an organic substrate they are difficult to eradicate. Starships aren’t a problem, normally -- but doesn’t this ship carry wood pulp in vast quantities?”

Grots fight dirty. Will flee if outnumbered. Will taunt you by lifting their barkskin loincloths. No genitals underneath.

Slugs from their wooden pistols pierce flak armour, but stop working in your hands.

+++

SERVITORS

“Servitors often babble, and sometimes beg to die. The Liber Ryza says we should rejoice at such anguish -- ‘thusly do we know of its human soul, thusly are we certain it hosts no inhuman, abominable intelligence.’”

Human bodies, mind-wiped and fitted with heavy augmentics. Work servitors have power claws for arms. Security servitors are armed with electro-flails.

Without a supervisor’s commands servitors get stuck performing their last command -- “Tighten valve”; “Purge corridor” -- or start whispering random words.

+++

CREWMEN & ARMSMEN

“Genetic variance is common in void-borne communities. See that one’s eyes? That one’s webbed hands?

Borrus of Stella Sancti considered all ‘born beyond a planetary sphere’s grace’ unnatural. He was nearly elected Ecclesiarch. What shape would the Imperium have taken, if he had?

Armsmen usually carry lasguns. They are the only crew allowed weapons. And personal hab units.

+++

MIDSHIPMEN

“Naval aphorist Jacques Aubrei writes:

‘The officer is the head of the crew, even as the Emperor is the head of all humanity. As all humanity is subject unto the Emperor, so let voidsmen be to their officers in all things. To do otherwise is sin.’”

These junior officers are outsiders -- petty nobles from core planets. They are too haughty and too green for the crew’s respect.

+++

RATS

“Rattus rattus astra, the common rat. Found wherever humans are.

They are seen as lucky; more rats mean fewer mutants living in the bilges. A study published in the Merchant Trader’s Almanack 871.M41 found that, on average, rat matter makes up 35.7% of all void-ship rations.”

Void-borne rats tend to grow to cat size.

+++

GENESTEALERS

“Corporaptor hominis! Our most recent additions to the Prohibitorium are about these!

Genetors now believe it is a pioneer organism for the Tyranids, a xenos threat from beyond our galaxy’s borders. Imagine! We stand so close to a creature more remote to us than daemons from the Empyrean!”

Quick, quiet, four arms, talons that rip ceramite. And with their ovipositor they turn you into brainwashed breeding stock.

The ones on the Flaxen Demoiselle have compound eyes. Their vestigial hornet’s wings buzz as they attack.

+++

ELDAR

“Van Kraus was sentenced to arco-flagellation for suggesting that we can learn from the xenos: ‘Consider cameleoline,’ -- he wrote -- ‘now used by the hallowed Astartes to cloak their passing. Yet cameleoline’s secret comes to us via the Eldar -- proof that even base mud sometimes reflects the Emperor’s light!’”

+++

IRRIGOMANTAYEL, ELDAR RANGER

He was born to verdant green -- a Maiden World now called Lethe’s Vision.

Returning home after four centuries peripatetic he found his world logged; its skies red at noon from continent-wide peat fires.

“My name is Irrigomantayel. You killed my world. Prepare to die.”

Active camouflage cloak, wraithbone rifle, unerring aim. Preternatural reflexes; kills a human being every time you encounter him.

His ultimate goal is to kill Lictus VI, so he has a vested interest in keeping the ship functional.

+++

(Pretty fun, though? Because bestiaries often are. Vihart’s info-dumps are a conscious riff on the style of the entries in the Old World Bestiary.) ( Image sources: https://alienseries.wordpress.com/2013/02/04/narcissus/ http://wh.reactor.cc/post/2220548 https://www.pinterest.com/pin/368591550740252345/ https://www.pinterest.com/pin/339599628132928702/ https://warhammer40k.fandom.com/wiki/Void_Born https://www.reddit.com/r/totalwar/comments/70pwmj/scared_scribeslave_is_the_best_thing_to_come_from/ https://www.mobygames.com/game/windows/space-hulk-vengeance-of-the-blood-angels/screenshots/gameShotId,9852/ https://animeonly.org/Fantasy/Fantasy-art-series/john-blanche-warhammer-66863p.html )

#procrastination #silly 40k #warhammer 40k #origami orks #pun names

12 notes · View notes

lady-divine-writes · 5 years

Text

Snow in the Desert (Rated T)

Summary: His first Christmas away from Warlock, Crowley misses him so much, he makes it snow in the desert. (1007 words)

Notes: For @drawlight's '31 Days of Ineffables' prompt 'snow'. Includes a little tidbit at the end that I found on the Good Omens character wiki.

Read on AO3.

“Is it …? Is it really?”

“If it is, it’s really odd …”

“It can’t be …”

“It … it is! It’s snowing!”

“What? How?”

“I … I don’t know.” Mrs. Dowling turns to her husband, affecting an expression of surprise but careful not to furrow her brow because wrinkles. “But it’s definitely snowing.”

“It can’t be.” Mr. Dowling rises from the breakfast table and shuffles to the window, staring up at the clear blue sky overhead, completely cloudless – which makes the larger than normal snowflakes falling from it certifiably bizarre. “Well I’ll be …”

“Snow day! Snow day! Snow day! Snow day!” Warlock chants, grabbing his jacket off the hook and running for the door.

“Warlock! Darling! A few flakes does not a snow day make!” Mrs. Dowling calls after him, giggling to herself over her clever, albeit unintentional, rhyme. But the moment Warlock opens the front door, the largest mound of snow Mrs. Dowling has ever seen falls atop her son’s head, burying him head to toe.

“Warlock!” she screams, certain her son has been squashed like a roach; that she’ll dig him up and find a flat, frozen Warlock pancake. “Talk to me, sweetie! Tell me you’re okay!”

His father rushes forward to rescue him (after sensibly putting on thick gloves and a wool coat) when, from within the mound, the chant continues – muffled but strong. “Snow day! Snow day! Snow day!” Warlock bursts out of the mound, covered in white but somehow not soaked to the skin, and races for the yard.

What had started off as simple white flurries stick to the ground and clump together with record speed even though the sky above them remains clear and the sun hot. All the children of their secluded, gated neighborhood have gathered with their various security details to build snowmen and start snowball fights as if heralded by an invisible but mutually agreed upon cue.

“How could this happen?” a parent asks.

“The weather service said nothing!” another offers.

“Who could have known?” a third pipes in.

“It’s a conspiracy, that’s what!” a fourth declares. “The liberal media is hiding this from us!”

“Not that I agree with any of your nonsense,” a fifth sniffs as they hop from website to website on their phone – CNN, NBC, ABC, The New York Times, “but I will say it is rather odd that no one’s reporting on this.”

“This valley hasn’t seen snow in close to two decades. Did you know that, darling?” Aziraphale says after a series of deep, concerned sighs. Beside him, both hidden beneath the branches of a lush willow tree, Crowley stands still as stone.

“Hmph,” he returns, his attention fully captured by the beaming boy with straight black hair plowing down snowmen left and right as if on some sort of vendetta. He grins slightly when Warlock clambers to the roof of his house and fearlessly leaps off into his mother’s begonias, landing remarkably safe regardless of the fact that the snow is piled shallow beneath the eaves that shelter her flowers.

“The news will be here soon, dearest, don’t you figure?”

His smile slips and Crowley grunts. “Ngk …”

“Crowley? Crowley, are you listening to me?”

“What, Aziraphale!? What!? What is it?”

Aziraphale looks at his miserable demon and sighs. “I know how you feel, but you can’t go around messing with the weather!”

“Why not?”

“You’ll disrupt ecosystems, confuse wildlife, endanger the humans …”

“They moved him to California, angel,” Crowley mumbles in his defense.

“Adam moved him to California because he thought he’d like it here. And he was right. Warlock does like it here. He has friends here.”

“There’s no snow in California.”

‘It barely snows in England,’ Aziraphale could remind him, but that would just be cruel. He places a comforting hand on the crook of his demon’s elbow, but Crowley keeps his arms folded tight across his chest. “Not here in San Diego, no ...”

“It’s almost Christmas.”

“That it is.”

“And Christmas requires snow.”

“Does it now?”

“Yes, it does. It’s one of the rules.”

“Whose rules?”

“My rules.”

“I see. Well why didn’t you miracle him and his family to Big Bear? Or Mammoth Mountain? Some place close by that already has snow?”

Crowley’s lips part but only just, whatever objection he had overruled before it leaves his mouth. “Meh. This was easier.”

“You didn’t think of that before, did you?” Aziraphale teases, unable to help himself.

“Look, if you’re so against this, why aren’t you stopping me? You have the power to reverse it.”

“True. But I love you.” Aziraphale slides his arm through the rigidity of Crowley’s posture and hugs him. He doesn’t force himself on him, simply lends him quiet assurance. Aziraphale could argue the ramifications of making it snow in the desert for days, but it wouldn’t change the fact that, as improbable as it seems, Crowley misses Warlock. After years of grumping and complaining that being a nanny is dull work for a demon and a thankless job in general, he feels a connection to this boy. He can’t be there for Warlock and, heartbreakingly enough, it seems Warlock has forgotten him, which is probably for the best anyway. So Crowley traveled thousands of miles to ensure one little boy (a boy who died because of him but was brought back when Adam changed reality) has a white Christmas. What’s the harm in that really? Aziraphale knows angels who do less over more important matters. And if there are any negative repercussions ecologically, which he doubts there will be, he can fix them in a snap. “And you’re not wrong. Christmas requires snow. So I’ll let it slide this once.”

Crowley watches Warlock nail a guard in the face with a huge, tightly-packed ball of snow and chuckles. He wants to say something to him. Aziraphale can feel it. Give Warlock an Attaboy! at the very least. But he can’t. He sighs, loosens his grip on his defenses, and hugs Aziraphale back. “That’s right generous of you.”

#good omens #ineffable husbands #31 days of ineffables #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #frankie writes

67 notes · View notes

barbarasbae · 5 years

Text

Just a Taste-The Aftermath

Part 2 of Just a Taste

Word Count: 1.4k

Warning: blood mention, threats/blackmail, implied smut, threats of violence against women/teenage girls (small scene but I don’t want people to be thrown into it and be uncomfortable)

Notes: Y/n is cousins with the Byers and that is simply because the Party’s and Hopper’s involvement are pretty crucial to the plot of this series towards the climax so far. The vampire information from Dustin in this chapter are all almost just copied and pasted from the vampire DnD wiki page. I have italicized the text I am referring to. Also, this is about to be the most used gif:

Y/n woke up that morning with a special kind of pain permeating through her brain. With a groan, she trudged out of bed and pulled on her favorite sweatshirt and jeans. Due to the hangover, she was already running late and was forced to down a muffin and banana in the car. It didn’t help that she was also battling against the movement-restricting puffy coat her mom always made her wear. School was uneventful, boring as always. By lunch, Y/n had convinced herself that she had just dreamt having sex with Billy Hargrove, as well as him most likely being a vampire. That is until he threw his arm around her shoulders as she left the building. “I need to talk to you.“

“Okay?” He pulled her behind the school building, looking around like he was trying to make sure no one saw them. “So last night was...good.” He said, lighting a cigarette. She saw the fangs. Oh. She hadn’t made that up. Well, fuck. “You’re cousins with the weird kid right? Zombie boy?”

“Don’t call him that.” He flicked the bud of his cigarette to the ground before advancing towards her until her back hit the cinderblock wall. “He’s one of my step-sisters little nerd friends.” They were so close she could feel that he wasn’t really breathing like he should. It was like he forgot to inhale every third or fourth breath. “Do not tell anyone about what happened, got it?” He said, fangs looking much more prominent. “This is why all those girls are scared of you aren’t they?” She murmured, his gaze too intense on her face for her to keep eye contact. “Wait...really?” His brows furrowed. “Yeah. Girls start acting different after going out with you.” He twisted one of his rings, looking like he was thinking. The moment was over as soon as it started, him looking back into her eyes. “Good.” Y/n found it easy to say this was one of the scariest moments of her life. “I know where you live, princess. If Max finds out, I can and will drain your body in two minutes.” The tip of his nose brushed hers. She wanted to cry. “Got it?” He snarled quietly. She nodded, biting her lip. He walked off, leaving Y/n to deal with her pounding heartbeat and weak legs.

Once she was able to form a cognitive thought again, she immediately went to the public library. It just didn’t sit well with her that such a creature was free-roaming Hawkins. She checked out some classics: Dracula, The Vampyre, Interview with the Vampire, Survival Skills for boys (you never know), and Varney the Vampire. She spent the night completely ignoring her homework, pouring over the books and writing notes in order to help her understand what the hell was going on. And maybe help her get rid of him. She felt a little queasy at the thought of going against him; everyone knew how Billy had almost hospitalized Chris Nickleson his second week in Hawkins. Despite feeling like she was walking on eggshells, Y/n didn’t actually see Billy for the entire day. Which could be a good thing. Or really bad. As soon as the final bell rang, Y/n beelined to the middle school, cornering Will and his friends as they came down the front steps. “Hey, you guys gonna play Dungeons and Dragons today?”

“Yeah.We’re gonna meet up at Mikes house.” Will answered. “When?” She pulled out a pen.

“Four.” Y/n marked it down on her hand.

“Ok. I need to ask you guys about something. I’ll see you then.” She said, trying to keep her wits about her and make sure no curly haired blond heard her discussion. The kids looked perplexed, but went along. They thought Y/n was pretty cool. Maybe cooler than Steve. (A big maybe).

After returning her books (getting rid of the evidence), she went to the Wheeler’s house with her notes in hand and was greeted by Mr. Wheeler. “Hi Mr. Wheeler, is my cousin here?” He didn’t look like he knew who she was talking about. “Will Byers?”

“Oh yeah. They’re in the basement.” She thanked him and scooted into the door, almost running to the basement. “Hi Mrs. Wheeler!” She called as she ran to the steps. “Hey Y/n!” The boys looked at the out-of-breath teenager as she threw her notes on the table. She tossed her coat, sitting down at their little table, getting her pen and paper out. “So, let’s say theoretically, if there was a vampire in Hawkins, how would I kill it?” They looked at her like she had a third eye. “Or even turn it back into a human?”

“Is there something happening?” Mike asked, looking for his walkie talkie.

“It’s for a...book I’m writing.” She fibbed, Dustin grabbing the manual and looking it up. “A vampire can be of any evil alignment, and if its alignment was not evil in life it becomes so in undeath.” He scanned for some more stats a little farther down. “It retains all the abilities it had in life, plus it gains the ability to drain blood and life energy, and to dominate other creatures with its gaze...it can also command rats, bats and wolves or take the form of them. They are superhumanly strong and regenerate/heal quickly from injuries. They can also turn into a gaseous form.” He finished, looking up to see Y/n furiously writing down more notes. “How do I get rid of it?”

“You stab it through the heart with a wooden stake. You can also deter it from attacking you by wearing a cross and throwing holy water at it.” Will supplied, looking over Dustin’s shoulder. “Okay. Thanks guys. Have fun with your game.” She went home and spent the evening organizing all the information she had gathered, writing a plan of sorts down. Then there was a knock on her window that scared her half to death. She looked up, the blood draining from her face. Billy. She collected her stuff and hid it the best she could in her closet. She walked over to the window, his eyes dark. She cracked the window as little as she could so she could hear him. “What do you want?”

“Food. You smell so good. Could smell you from the street.” Okay, creepy. He kept his eyes trained on her, watching her leave the room and return with towels. After laying them on the bed, she walked to the window and begrudgingly opened it all the way. “You’ve got to invite me in.”

“What?”

“Just say to me ‘you can come in’.”

“Okay. You can come in.” He came in and kissed her, hands greedily seeking the warmth her skin held from laying in bed. She leaned over and closed the window, him breaking for a moment. But then he just kissed her deeper. She kissed back, but he could tell it was different. “You know I wont drain you, right? I was just saying that stuff to scare you.” He was suddenly a teenage boy again,not a monster, rubbing his thumb into her waist. A faint blush was painting his cheeks, which she didn’t think was possible. “Well it worked.” She said softly, hands going to his biceps. “Sorry,” he sounded sheepish, like he was genuinely embarrassed by his decision to threaten her. He stopped touching her, walking over to her bed and sitting. She sat next to him cautiously, feeling more and more anxious as he kept his eyes trained on her bandaged neck (now decorated with a Batman bandaid).

“Were transformers not good enough for you?”

“I needed to change it because it was an open wound that hadn’t been cleaned.” She retorted with an eye roll and a little smile. His hand ghosted over hers that was resting in between them. He gently kissed the wounded spot, then trailed his lips up to her cheek. She winced, clutching her fist as an especially painful cramp throbbed in her lower belly. “Can I help? Please?” He begged, hand gripping her upper thigh. His fangs had grown longer, Billy ready to eat. “Y/n, I won’t bite again. I promise!” The look in his eyes was very innocent compared to what he had just asked her to let him do. She nodded. A smile grew on his face. She was on her back, hungry lips against hers before she could blink.

#billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove #billy hargrove imagines #billy hargrove imagine #billy x reader #billy hargrove x fem!reader #billy hargrove reader insert #vampire!billy #vampire billy au #stranger things vampire au #stranger things imagines #just a taste #jat

372 notes · View notes

thebiasrekkers · 4 years

Text

Fragmentation 0.6 - JJK

Plot: How does one measure freedom? Are our choices truly our own, or are they part of a preset design outside of our control? We all have a question burning inside of us, though few speak it out. It is the question that drives us forward, seeking purpose in our lives. What is The Matrix?

Rating: NC-17 // NSFW

Pairing: N/A

Warnings: Strong language, allusions to suicide, extreme angst, graphic violence

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 2,615

AN: We are now jacking back into “The Matrix” with Jungkook. The heaviness with his story rivals Yoongi’s, but that’s my own personal opinion on the matter. Again, all information in the universe can be found on the official Matrix Wiki so please use that as a reference guide if you ever get confused!

Tag List: @aroseforyoongi, @prisczero, @pinkpjmin, @btsaudge, @flowerwrites06, @unoriginal-username15432

© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

Jungkook shoved the blankets off of him, rolling out of bed with a grunt. As he sleepily rubbed at his eyes with one hand, he used the other to blindly grope around on the floor for a pair of pants. Grabbing the flannel pajama bottoms, he hopped on one foot as he slid one leg into them while pivoting on one heel to get into the other. Like a delirious dancer, he spun around until Jungkook perfectly landed ass first into his computer chair.

It didn’t matter that the girl he’d just fucked out of her mind was passed out in his bed. He didn’t care that she was spiraling down an ecstasy-laden highway in her dreams. Jungkook didn’t remember her name and he honestly couldn’t have cared about what it was, either. Why should it matter when she wasn’t going to stick around when the morning came? She’d leave Jungkook once she was satisfied with everything she’d gotten.

She was just like the rest of them; no different than the others.

Another nameless and faceless individual in a sea of nameless and faceless individuals that forgot him just as easily as he forgot them.

Shifting the mouse with his pinkie, the monitor to his computer flickered to life - chasing the spiral fractal screensaver from view. The brightness from the screen caused him to squint slightly and he fumbled around on the desk for his glasses. The fringe of his hair tickled his forehead, making it itch, and he absently rubbed at his face before sliding his glasses onto his face.

Leaning his neck slightly, he popped and stretched the stiffness from it. Pulling up a browser, he activated his console command and quickly activated his ghost hack. It would take him about ten minutes to pick back up on the trail he was on previously, but at least Jungkook managed to figure out all the shortcuts now. Tracing his footsteps wouldn’t be as hard as it used to be. Not like it was a year ago.

“Frost,” he murmured, waiting for the encryption to fully settle before his fingers flew across his keyboard, “I’ve almost got you…”

But what am I gonna do when I finally find you?

It was a question Jungkook often asked himself, unsure of what the answer would have been and if he even really wanted to know.

At first, the days bled on and it was just something to pass the time; to give meaning to his seemingly monotonous existence.

School.

Part-time job.

Party.

Home.

Rinse and repeat.

Something always felt off about his life. Jungkook blamed it on teenage hormones and falling into a hole that belonged to an angst-filled emo subculture that he thought he wanted to be a part of. For a time, he was. The acquaintances he met and the people that he was introduced to seemed genuine. For a time, Jungkook felt like he found a sense of belonging.

Drugs and booze and rebellion coursed through his veins - shredding through his blood like the best kind of high. He joined up with a group that believed they were meant to serve a higher purpose. Jungkook wanted to think that maybe he’d found a place with a few more answers regarding the “meaning” to his existence. He’d been alone for so long that there was an opportunity for him to obtain that which he so desperately was seeking. It wouldn’t have been illogical for him to cling to that feeling with everything that he had so he didn’t fall into an empty pit of wastefulness.

Three months slid by faster than he could process it. Jungkook received a message in an encrypted email. It was one sentence. A question.

When you look in the mirror, who is staring back at you?

At first, Jungkook thought it was a prank; some twisted internet joke from some hacker he’d pissed off. But the question lingered in the back of his mind. It was a seed that was now planted, growing and taking root. Like the itch that yearned to be scratched but your arm just wasn’t long enough to reach. It was a question, a splinter, that very nearly drove Jungkook mad.

What was the answer? Was there an answer?

Jungkook continued the monotony of his day-to-day life, wondering if he would ever be able to catch up to Frost. His cryptic question festered like an infected wound, yearning for healing, but only Jungkook could solve this internal dilemma. Chasing after Frost would do nothing because somewhere deep inside, he already knew that Frost wouldn’t tell him the answer.

Only Jungkook had the answer to the question. No one else.

The months continued to slide by, the seasons changing with the times. Jungkook, alone, often found himself staring listlessly out of his bedroom window. The world seemed so desaturated. When had everything lost its lustre? When did the rain pouring from the skies start looking like black tar tinted with green? Like an oil slick abandoned in a construction zone - lying there without purpose.

He was getting no closer to finding out the truth. He wasn’t able to find the answer to the question that Frost asked him. It frustrated Jungkook to no end. How was he supposed to know? Of course the person staring back at him was himself! Who else would it be? It was the same dark eyes, the same unkempt fringe and lightly tanned skin, the same beauty mark on his chin and below his bottom lip.

It can only be me, he thought as he stepped out of the shower, looking at his steamed up reflection in the mirror, the person staring back at me...is me…

Drying his hair, he slumped into his chair and lit a cigarette - inhaling the smoke and exhaling it out across the computer screen. His fingers slowly began to type, searching out for something. His ghost hack was always present, allowing him a chance to bring up various articles in the darker parts of the net. Most people traversed this forbidden area of the internet because it gave people a sort of adrenaline kick; the thrill of the chase. Some made illegal deals, indulged in illegal gambling, and even went so far as to hire someone to “clean up” some mess in their lives.

Jungkook merely sought out information.

He was getting closer. He could feel it. Was it because he finally found the answer? Or was it something else?

Again, the months continued to press on. When there wasn’t rain, there was snow. The frost collecting on his window may have been the signal that he was waiting for. The time must have been right.

It was another lonely night filled with emptiness. He perched himself up on his windowsill, smoking a cigarette as another nameless girl moaned out her pleasure on his bed. Another one he could say he’d taken advantage of, even though she believed she was the one doing the taking. Confidence was a hell of a drug and she seemed to be teeming with it. Like he could fault her for such a thing.

As he stared mindlessly out across the snow-covered sidewalk below his apartment complex, he watched more of the frost collect itself on the glass. Jungkook didn’t think much of it as his breath blew across the window. But then something changed, causing him to drop the cigarette into the tray by his feet.

You are still in a cage, Miles…

Something heavy banged against the door to his apartment, startling him to his feet. Jungkook’s heart drummed heavily, causing his breathing to puff out in short bursts. Not wasting a single moment, he grabbed his coat and jumped into a pair of sneakers. Thank God he was still wearing his jeans, though he would regret the cold soon for not bothering to put a shirt on. There wasn’t any time and somehow Jungkook knew that. Danger hungrily clawed at the other side of his door and he didn’t have time to question whether he would be able to face it when it finally burst through.

Jungkook slid the window open, shivering at the cold wind that whipped clean through him. Snow covered his eyelashes, forcing him to squint. He tumbled out of the window just seconds before the door splintered open from it being forced open. Jungkook landed on the fire escape, rattling snow off the bars, and he quickly descended. There was urgency in his steps and he didn’t bother with the last stairwell, choosing to hop over the railing.

His feet landed on top of the large metal dumpster below, the force of the landing causing his legs to tremble. Jungkook pressed forward, rolling off it and crashing to the ground. As he looked up, he saw a man wearing sunglasses and dressed in a suit peering down at him. This wasn’t good and he knew it. Jungkook scrambled to his feet and took off in a dead run down the alley. As he reached the street, there was the sound of squealing tires as a motorcycle pulled up right beside him, causing Jungkook to jump to the side.

A woman dressed in a silverish gray windsuit peered back at him. Her eyes were dark, her skin a soft mocha, and her head of curly hair peeked out from beneath the hood of her jacket. She revved the engine to life, glancing at him. “Get on,” she barked.

Jungkook knew the level of danger he was in and he could sense he was safer with this stranger than what was pursuing him on his heels. He quickly hopped onto the back, wrapped his arms around her waist, and she gunned it down the street. The world of neon zipped by in a blur and Jungkook could barely keep his eyes open. Tears leaked from them as the cold air cut across his skin.

“Where are we going?” he yelled over the roar of the city and the wind whipping around his ears.

“Shut-up, Kid,” she hollered back, weaving in and out from between other vehicles, “before you bite your tongue.”

Well, he certainly couldn’t argue with that. So, instead, he closed his eyes and gripped onto his forearm resting against her stomach.

“Wake up, Miles.”

Jungkook groaned, lifting his head up sleepily as he took in the world around him. He slowly fisted one of his eyes, attempting to rid it of the haze of sleep that was still trying to fog up his mind. How long had he been asleep? Or, more importantly, how long had they been stationary?

The first thing he noticed was the feeling of warmth. He quickly deduced they were no longer outside. But when had he been transported from outside in the first place?

The light in the room was dim, which he was thankful for. He wasn’t sure if he could handle any bright lights or weird experimentation on himself after just waking up. As he sat up from the couch, he looked around and saw that there was a large glass of water set on a table in front of him. Past the glass and the table sat two individuals in two separate wingback chairs. One was the woman who rescued him, the other was an Asian man with dark, crimped hair. They both looked at him pointedly, one of them steepling his fingers as he rested his elbows on the arms of the chair.

“What the hell is going on?”

“There isn’t much time, Miles, so we’re going to do this quickly.” said the man, his face devoid of any emotion. “You know who I am, don’t you?”

Did he? Jungkook swallowed the lump in his throat. And why did he keep calling him by that--?

His eyes widened. “...Frost.” Jungkook leaned forward on the couch. “You’re Frost!”

“Bingo. Gold star for you.” Frost sighed, casting a sidelong glance toward the woman in the other chair. “So now we’re going to give you the choice that I never had.”

The woman rolled her eyes. “Oh God, not this again.”

Frost’s expression darkened. “Animus, you said I could do this my way, so let me.”

“Fine.” The woman called “Animus” looked at Jungkook, holding her right fist to him. When she opened it, there sat a blue pill in the center of her palm. “If you take this, you’ll never see us again. You won’t recognize us even if we were to pass you on the street. You get to remain in this life of monotony, but you’ll no longer agonize over what your purpose is in this world.”

Jungkook blinked. How could she have known that? How could she have known that he was searching so desperately for the meaning of his existence? His eyes slowly shifted over to where Frost sat. Had he told her?

Frost held his own fist out, opening it and showing a red pill situated on his palm. Jungkook stared at it for a long time, hearing the rate of his heart escalate against his ear canals. “If you take this, you’ll be able to come with us. You’ll find out the truth and you can finally discover what your purpose is.”

He didn’t hesitate. Reaching for the pill in Frost’s hand, he grabbed it and the glass of water. Popping the pill into his mouth, he swallowed it in a single gulp - washing it down with the water. Suddenly, other people began walking inside as Animus began hooking Jungkook up to a few heart monitoring pads connected to an array of machinery that he managed to miss spying when he’d first woken up.

“W-What’s happening?” he asked, looking to Frost for guidance.

Animus stroked her fingers through his fringe, smirking as she walked away. Frost approached him, his expression stoic but his eyes were just a bit more gentle than earlier.

“You need to breathe, Miles.” There was a distinct beeping sound off to the right as everything rippled around him. Why did everything look so fuzzy? “We’re almost there.”

“Almost where?!”

Animus pulled out a cell phone, dialed a number and held it up to her ear. “I need a location, Spectre. Agents will be all over this place in five minutes.”

Jungkook’s heart froze. He didn’t know what that meant, but he had a feeling that it meant something dangerous. Were those men who barreled through his apartment those so-called “Agents”? He tried to stand, but Frost immediately pushed him back down into the seat.

“Frost, what is going on!?” The world was starting to grow a little bit more fuzzy as his heart rate increased, causing him to hyperventilate. “What’s happening to me?!”

“You made the choice, Miles. Now you have to live with it.” Frost sighed, his brows furrowing slightly. “I’ll be waiting for you on the other side.”

And when the white noise fully enveloped his surroundings, Jungkook felt the floor open up beneath him as the darkness swallowed him whole. He tried to scream, but it sounded hollow in his ears. Gravity pushed his stomach all the way up to his chest, causing tears to stream from his eyes. He was afraid, but something told him that he wouldn’t be alone when he finally stopped falling.

In a flash, everything began to grow dark around the corners of his eyes. The walls were covered in strings of green code against a black background. It flickered like this for a few seconds, chasing away the fear that was attempting to suffocate Jungkook. Wonder replaced it, his arm reaching out to try and touch it.

Darkness spread like an oil spill.

“Welcome to the Real World.”

7 notes · View notes

akilah12902 · 4 years

Text

Creature Feature: Rock Troll and Ice Troll

It’s like killing a puppy. Admittedly a super fucking dangerous anthopophagous puppy, but STILL.

Hello everybody! Today we’re talking about Rock Trolls, one of the few sapient monsters!

Check the tags for your warnings and hit read more for the feature!

Man must riddly talk. But no tricksy. Or troll boom man head. – rock troll dwelling in a cave on Undvik If while hiking high in the mountains you come across a walking stone, do not think your eyes deceive you. Instead, draw your sword – for before you stands a rock troll. True, not every encounter with these creatures ends in a fight - while not particularly intelligent, trolls are capable of reason – but it is better to prepare for the worst. Otherwise, your hike might end not on the summit, but in their stew. Trolls are able to use fire and simple tools, and some of them have even mastered the basics of Common Speech. Though linguistic nuances such as conjugations and declinations escape them, they are extremely fond of riddles, rhymes and all sorts of wordplay, a fact a witcher in possession of a bit of wit can use to his advantage. If a fight proves inevitable, one must watch out for the stones these trolls throw with great strength and shocking precision. Their powerful, heavy fists also present a danger, for they can buckle even the sturdiest breastplate or cuirass. Since their backs are covered in a layer of rocky growth, blows delivered from behind will not do them much damage. They must thus be fought directly, standing face to face – and preferably armed with a sword covered in a fresh coating of ogroid oil.

Witcher 3 Bestiary Entry

Our winter's cold and deep, frostbite eats your feet, snow falls down and hides the ground and ice trolls wake from sleep!

– folk song heard in northern Kaedwen

Climbing to the top of snow-covered peaks is never a safe endeavor. One can slip and fall into a ravine, be buried in an avalanche – or stumble across ice trolls. Unlike the rock trolls found at lower altitudes, these permafrost-dwelling monsters treat every man they encounter as a possible ingredient for a tasty meal.

Luckily ice trolls live atop high mountain ridges so inaccessible they rarely encounter humans, and some suppose this is why they have not mastered the basics of Common Speech. Others claim their harsh mountain home has stripped them of an ability they once possessed, for in a land of never-ending cold there is no room for mercy or understanding.

Ice trolls are crueler than their rocky kin. Though they use similar tactics in battle – tossing stones and swinging with their mighty fists – they are heartier and stronger than rock trolls and thus more dangerous. Like rock trolls, their backs are covered in thick protective armor, meaning one should never strike them from the rear. Meanwhile their mass means that the Aard Sign cannot move them. Lastly, never think of attacking them during a blizzard. At such times they draw power from the surrounding cold and fight with increased strength.

Witcher 3 Bestiary Entry

Ice trolls are reskinned rock trolls but they’re always hostile. They also are not particularly weak to Igni. Okay, that’s all we need for them, let’s move on:

I am going to be straight with you: I love rock trolls. If they’re not completely hostile off the bat, they’re like dealing with a slightly concussed golden retriever. That golden retriever is still capable of killing people, and will sometimes threaten it, but it is possible to talk almost every single non-rabies-infected rock troll out of a fight.

The list of all the rock troll encounters in the game is, regrettably, too large for me to me to want to undertake, so I’m just going to detail my favorite one—okay, there’s one other that’s really short—and you can have a look at the list of Notable Rock Trolls on the Witcher Wiki for the rest, okay? Okay.

I’ll go with the shortest story first:

One of the sidequest/minigames in the Witcher games is fistfighting. There tends to be a different little tournament for each distinct area in the games. In the interest of mixing things up a bit in Witcher 3, some of the fistfights much later in the game mix things up a bit; for example, in Skellige, you’re not always fist-fighting humans...

The champion fistfighter of Skellige is, yes, a rock troll. Yes, they want you to fight him bare-handed. They’ll even cover your funeral costs. No, actually, it’s not as crazy as it seems, because he won’t throw rocks at you; it’s much easier to slide in, throw a few punches, and sidestep away without having to worry about getting a boulder to the face. I didn’t even get hit once in that fight.

The troll has picked up the idea that he is a knight errant, and he will only reveal his name if he is defeated in battle. If you talk to him after winning the fight he declares that his name is Athak Akydalv.

My probably absolute favorite encounter is with a rock troll named Trollololo, who was recruited by the Redanian army to watch over a number of boats the soldiers had seized. Trollololo was delighted to have been recruited by the Redanians, and promptly picked up a number of Redanian military songs, mostly insulting Nilfgaard, as the soldiers got drunk, which he sings happily and at full volume.

Unfortunately, the peasants who owned the confiscated boats were not particularly happy with the situation, and attacked the soldiers to try and get them back. Trollololo joined the fight to defend the soldiers and the boats but. unfortunately. He was not used to fighting alongside humans and accidentally killed all the soldiers in addition to the peasants.

Not one to be too set back by sudden changes, Trollololo proceeded to make soup with the bodies, reasoning, rather understandably, that whatever consciousness had been occupying them was gone and wouldn’t be needing the meat anymore.

After starting up his cooking, Trollololo continued his dedication to protecting the boats... by disassembling them to create a fence to keep people out!

When Geralt happens upon him, he’s loudly singing Redanian military songs and happily guarding the disassembled boats, believing he’s an official member of the Redanian military.

Given the lack of true malice in any of his actions and the real unlikeliness of anybody to willingly wander into Trollololo’s camp, I decided to help him out.

He wants some red and white paint so he can decorate the camp with the Redanian eagle, to make it more official. When you return with the paint, you can either try your hand at art yourself or suggest Trollololo do the painting himself—and it turns out Trollololo is quite the artist, as his rendition of the Redanian Emblem is almost indistinguishable from the official one! (Geralt’s is. recognizable.)

In any case, most rock trolls can be reasoned with, although they’re a bit like children in their logic. The one exception are the so-marked rabid rock trolls, which both provides the interesting data point that rabies exists and affects rock trolls, and provides an opportunity to actually fight some of these monsters, assuming you were as charmed by them as I was.

#Witcher Creature Feature #The Witcher #Witcher #troll #rock troll #rock trolls #anthopophagy #eating humans #Trollololo

12 notes · View notes

dicedungeons-and-dragons · 4 years

Text

Waylan’s Sabbatical (6/?)

A chunk of writing following our party NPC (and my Son) as he breaks away from the party. Our campaign uses names of places from various fandoms for fun but they have no real relation to the source material. (We also call the Raven Queen Nara because of some hasty Wiki reading) This section contains Terran and Waylan’s first meeting!

TW: Mentions of past torture, general violence, injury.

Part: First | Previous | Next

“Wake up!” The slap rattles his teeth as it hits him. If he wasn’t already crying he thinks the blow would force tears to his eyes. A fresh taste of blood coats the inside of his mouth as his vision swims around the dimly lit room. The Crimson Sign sneers down at him. Gods what he wouldn’t give to forget the times that Maurak sat down at the bar to share a drink with Gadreel. Because those memories only make the monster standing in front of him, a monster who has shattered his bones and hacked away at his arm, more vivid. Maurak was always a monster. He had just hid it well.

Another blow snaps his head to the other side, but this one is harder, hard enough he feels his cheekbone crumple inward and one of his teeth splinter and jam into the side of his tongue. Black spots dance across his vision and he tries to spit out the blood that’s rapidly pooling in his mouth before he chokes on it.

“He wasn’t the only monster in hiding.” Oh. Oh, thank Gods. It’s another one of these. His head spins as he forces himself to look up. He’s standing in front of his own bound body, Maurak’s knife in his flesh hand, and his metal one raised to deliver another blow if need be.

“It’s just a dream.” Waylan slurs to himself. “You’re not real.”

“Not yet.” The blow comes again. But this time he feels it reverberating up the gears of his arm. Sees Gadreel’s head snap to the side. Sees Lugh spitting out blood. Sees Vani’s legs bent at odd angles. Sees Ray’s arm hacked off, tattoos still burning. And it feels so good. He loves pressing his metal hand against their begging mouths, love watching his hand catch fire and the flesh bubble and blacken on their face as their screams rattle against his palm. He burns them until he can’t see their faces anymore, until he wakes up screaming with smoke clinging to the back of his throat.

****

It’s rare he wakes up screaming, and even rarer that he loses control of his magic nowadays. But when he comes out of his nightmare, brain soaked in pain and fear and sees a shadow moving towards him he strikes without thought. Magic dripping from his lips as he throws out a hand and blasts the approaching figure with a burst of flame.

“Waylan!” The Knight’s voice, so unfamiliar compared to the ones that haunt his dreams, manages to shake him from the lingering terror.

“Fuck, shit, Gods I’m sorry,” he jumps from the bed and rushes forward. “Are you alright?”

“I’m well enough. It would take far more than that to incapacitate me. You were screaming.”

“I’m sorry. That doesn’t usually happen.” The Knight stares down at him for a long moment. It’s times like this, with glowing red eyes looking down at him, he remembers that the lich towers over him just like Radiance, Lugh and Gadreel used to.

“The screaming, perhaps, doesn’t happen. But I watched over you as you healed. I had thought your nightmares a symptom of fever, but they haunt you now as well.” Waylan swallows the wave of shame that tries to crawl up his throat, reaches for anger instead.

“It’s none of your business.” The words are covered in barbs but the lich doesn’t seem to notice.

“Why do you keep coming back into the forest, Waylan?”

“What the fuck does it matter?” He turns away from the Knight, stalks over to the wardrobe with no doors to grab his few belongings. “I won’t be back.” Because this is too much. Too close. He left Creta so that no one would ask him questions he can’t answer. He doesn’t need those questions to find him here, least of all out of the mouth of an undead. He gathers his things as quickly as possible and makes for the door. The Black Knight’s gloved hand slams into the stone beside his head, cages him against the wall before he can make a break for it. Sparks flick up over his fingers nervously. He can’t fight a lich. He’s not strong enough for that. And even if he could get away from him he doesn’t know the castle as well. The Knight could certainly catch up to him if he wanted.

“Waylan.” He says his name lowly, the sound of it reverberating against his helmet. “You are not a traveler are you?”

“What’s that even supposed to mean?” He says, his throat tight.

“You are not traveling, you are running. A coward, fleeing from a person, or a memory. And you have found a home in woods that makes cowards of all who journey inside.”

“You’re still here.” He snaps. “Two hundred years later in this place for cowards. What are you hiding from?”

“I’m not hiding. The forest you see and the one I live in are very different. You will stay here and I will show you.” The Knight drops his hand and gives Waylan a bit of space. “Maybe when I am finished you will be able to face what you were running from.”

“You aren’t going to keep me here against my will.”

“I’m not. But I think you know as well as I that you’d return again even if you left right now.”

And every nerve in him is scraped raw and pulled taut and he desperately wants to walk out the door, take his things, find a ship, and move on to a new place. He could be away from Okren in four days time if he didn’t rest. He could leave and never come back. Never blink at what might have happened to the Dark Forest and the warrior lich that lived there.

But the stump of his arm is aching, and his throat is still raw from screaming. He hasn’t heard from the others in weeks. He hasn’t slept well in months. And he’s tired of running.

****

The next morning the Knight has him up at the crack of dawn and as soon as he’s dressed and fed they’re heading out through the service tunnels and into the forest. To be honest he’s still half furious with himself for staying. The other half is furious with the lich for presuming to know so much about him and having the gall to be right. Which doesn’t make him much for conversation and they head deeper into the forest.

Waylan’s been past the castle before. He’s gone about four days further, but it was extremely slow going. When he’d first started traveling through the Dark Forest he thought that the castle would be at the heart of the forest and the most difficult to make it to. But while there are plenty of monsters and treacherous land serving as deterrents, he found the actual landscape of the forest beyond the castle is far more hazardous. The Knight navigates through the foggy landscape with ease even as Waylan starts to struggle for breath as a the mist takes on a sharp and nauseating odor. It takes until about mid day, but eventually he has to pause, coughing hard enough that he thinks he might shake a lung loose.

“Apologies, I forget the boons my existence offers me.”

“Yeah, well, do you know if this fog is toxic for us lowly humans?”

“It will not poison you, but it will be uncomfortable.” The Knight looks around and then says, “Ah, little one,” Waylan is about to start cursing when he sees the lich looking over at a squirrel that’s sitting up in a nearby tree. “Get a message to your master. Tell him I have come to visit and hope he will extend the same hospitality to my friend as he has graciously done for myself.” The squirrel cocks its head and then skitters across the branches, leaping into the next tree and then on into the thick forest until Waylan can’t spot it anymore.

“I don’t think I want to meet your friend.”

“I will do my best to keep you safe.” And Waylan doesn’t like the sincerity in the tone.

“What am I about to meet?”

“‘Who’, you’re going to meet the dragon who has made his home within my borders.”

“A dragon?” Realization slides sickeningly along the same path as sour air to his lungs. “A green dragon?” The lich inclines his head. “I can’t meet a green dragon, Knight! I helped kill one!” He hisses.

“And why would I care about that little human?” The words come in raspy tones and Waylan tenses as he turns to face the new speaker. Fuck him with a dull pike. Fuck.

There is no towering creature before him and somehow that makes what is standing there even more terrifying. Only old dragons can take human form and the one standing in front of him has to be old. And the older a dragon is the more dangerous. The man is tall and thin, too thin, with his dark leathers clinging to his body. His cheekbones jut out sharply as if he’s missed a few dozen meals, and the long fingered hands that he folds in front of himself as he considers the two of them are thin with his knuckles making knobby protrusions. His eyes are an unnatural vibrant yellow and his hair is shorn very short against his skull, so short Waylan can’t really tell the color, only that the fuzz is very dark.

“If you managed to kill a dragon that means it was not worthy of life. What kind of higher being gets slain by a flea?”

“Waylan this is Terran, the Hungry One.” The Knight dips his head respectfully and Waylan follows suit. “Terran, this is Waylan, the human who has been mapping the forest.”

“Yes, yes, your little pet project. Why bring him to meet me?” Terran looks Waylan over disinterestedly. “Unless you’ve brought me an offering, Lich?”

“Not this time.”

Waylan is half a second away from casting a fireball between them all, turning invisible, and making a run for it.

“He speaks draconic. You so often complain you no longer get to converse in your mother tongue I thought you would appreciate the opportunity.”

Waylan thinks he sees a spark of interest in the dragon’s eyes. “Is that true little human, do you speak a language far superior to the one that humans use to grunt through their meaningless lives?”

Every inch of him bristles at the comment. And for a wonderful, suicidal moment, Waylan considers telling the dragon to go fuck himself in clean curt draconic. Instead he settles on, “If a language’s worth is based on how many know it then the ravings of a madman must be far more blessed than even Tiamat’s tongue.”

Terran stares at him for a long moment and Waylan wonders if he can still spit poison in this form. Then he looks over at the Black Knight. “He lives, for now.”

“Your patience is appreciated.”

#wow i was really up my own ass with the purple prose when i wrote this huh #cotd fics #waylan's sabbatical #waylan #terran #corzaren #my writing #dnd fic #this is what happens when you let something sit in your docs for a year

1 note · View note