#and that... alongside his guilt of the concept of bringing it upon himself... is why Valin has not killed that Ghost.

[miscellaneous-obsession]

Hi, I'm not sure if you do requests but I came across your ongoing fic about Alcina Dimitrescu and the maiden. I was wondering if you could write an angst piece about the family involving Ethan Winters and him carrying out his mission in the castle (as hinted during gameplay)? You can make it as sad and gory as you want!

Ah thank you for the ask, I really tried to go all out with the piece! Also please note this was written before canon details of the girl's weakness was revealed.

The Inevitable

Warnings: Graphic violence, death of main characters, implied suicide, details of injury and blood, use of blades and guns and not suitable for minors.

Anguish consumed her entire being as sobs were ripped from her throat, each more violent than the last. Her chest heaved, becoming more breathless as tears relentlessly trailed down her cheeks, falling only to land on the creamy expanse of Alcina's dress.

Being the last to have turned, Ethan presumed her mortal connections of humanity lingered longer than most. The emotional intensity of the scene that unfolded before him forced him to avert his gaze as guilt threatened to tear through his heart. He was the cause of such destruction; he had laid waste, bringing about the death of a family in reparation and retaliation for the loss of his own.

He called them monsters, but there was always a chance he was wrong. Was it he who was becoming the villain of the story?

Forcing himself to face the consequences of his actions, his stomach turned. Recalling the events that led him to believe that the brunette was the first he had slaughtered. She had walked into the hall unsuspecting of the company hovering above on the bannister, perched in wait, ready to leap onto her frame. Unable to swarm and seek help from her sisters, Ethan had plunged a blade through the skin and muscle of her neck with such force even the crunch of bone and cartilage echoed alongside a gurgled scream. Her eyes had widened, arms flailing helplessly as her mind continued to fight, hoping that this was not her untimely end.

"Cassandra," the cry of her name rang throughout the expansive room and with force, Ethan was flung from his position over the fading woman. The redhead looked torn; anger and sorrow clashed together like waves against a cliff. Her bottom lip trembled as tears threatened to spill over with the force she blinked, a truly futile effort to contain them.

"You can't go, Cassie; who will I bicker with?"

Ethan had recovered by then, his heart aching with a drop of adrenaline as these sisters were forced to part, separated by planes of existence by his actions. The brunette now lay lifeless in a pool of her own blood, cradled by whom he knew to be Daniela. The very same redhead remained unguarded, vulnerable, and against his better judgement, he retrieved his gun. Solely focused on Cassandra's corpse, Daniela had less than a second to react as she unsheathed her sickle, refracting the bullet, so it embedded within wooden panelling rather than her head. 

"You bastard," with sloppy movements, she swung the blade that remained coated in her previous victim's blood. Advancing with ferocity, Ethan was compelled to retreat; his steps backward created a minute distance only to be quickly eliminated by Daniela's persistence. With both knife and gun in hand, Ethan continued to parry, deflecting potentially lethal blows, waiting patiently for an opening.

Two sounds followed in succession, first a second shot of the gun, then the thud of a fallen body. Not far from her elder sister lay Daniela, her body shaking as she slid across the marbled floor leaving behind an abhorrent bloody trail in her wake. Her effort was not in vain as she curled into Cassandra's now cooling body, hoping for a semblance of comfort in the absence of her mothers and only remaining sister.

Seconds later, the matriarch's wife stormed in, her fury no less palpable than her youngest’s. "No," her voice was soft as disbelief seeped in; ignoring the direct threat before her, she came to her daughter's side. The redhead forced a smile, hoping to alleviate the distress that crossed her mama's face.

"Mama," that sole word was enough for the maiden to hush the girl who she pecked on her forehead.

"Relax, Dani, you did so well, my darling. I am proud, so proud."

The slight smile, still as toothy as ever, cracked the maiden's heart, knowing it would be the last she caught from her daughter.

"Cassandra will be waiting, so do not fear, for you won't be alone."

The comfort Daniela sought was given in tenfold as always, and as she closed her two-toned eyes for the final time, she was only aware of her mama's delicate fingers carding through her hair. 

Much like her daughter, who had just passed, the blonde could not contain her pain at the sight of her deceased children. Although before Ethan could act, the two remaining ladies of the house emerged, summoned by the ruckus he was responsible for.

Bela surged forward after a single glance to her younger sisters; her protective nature had not dulled even in their deaths. On the other hand, Alcina flew to her wife's side, sharing in the grief that constricted their unbeating hearts. Never had she thought that a single man could enact such damage.

Bela was relentless, her anger conforming to her will and an advantage as she slashed with precision. Her blade getting too close for comfort for Ethan's liking, but he was prepared. Blocking and countering with his own attacks saw the blonde thrown off-kilter, her movements becoming sluggish as she expended her energy far too much over the course of the evening.

Observing her daughters struggles, Alcina moved to step in, only to be too late as Ethan used Bela's momentum against her. With her sickle wedged within the hearth of the fireplace, unable to rip it out in time, both blade and bullets penetrated her unprotected abdomen. The inhuman cry from Alcina sent Ethan staggering as she pulled Bela into her embrace, coaxing and pleading for her to stay awake. Quickly cream became crimson within seconds but was ignored in favour of re-joining her wife. Held safely in her mother's arms brought Bela a semblance of peace; she desperately wanted to stay but knew there was nothing to fear anymore, for she had her sisters to join.

"I'm sorry, mother, mama," she looked to them in turn as she spoke their favoured terms of endearment, eyes fluttering with each movement.

"Nonsense dragă mea, you were perfect." 

A small nod from the maiden confirmed Alcina's statement, confident that her daughter had succeeded. "Rest Bela," was the last thing the blonde heard as she slipped into an endless sleep, still held and cradled in the soothing caress that her mothers provided.

Only when they were sure did they let go, allowing Bela to lay by her sisters, placed with such delicacy it surprised Ethan. Only two to go; it was a thought that crossed his mind as both women stood, bodies stiff and ready to pounce as though they were predators and he was their prey.

Both matriarch and her wife were riddled with injuries by the end of the fight, Alcina more so as she had taken blows in an effort to save her beloved. Foolishly it was this notion, her own sentimentality, that brought about her end. Having collapsed her wife catching her with practised ease, Alcina was held against the blonde's chest. With an urgent need to convey her love, Alcina forced herself upright, seeking the lips of her maiden. Granting one of her last requests, her beloved closed the distance, savouring what would be the final kiss in which the matriarch would or could reciprocate. A hand rose to Alcina's cheek as she came to rest her head in the column of her wife's neck, fingers tracing skin with unparalleled tenderness. Ethan's own heart ached, he had lost his wife, his Mia, and he was the reason his ancestor was losing her own.

"I'll be with you soon, my love; I promise even death won't separate us."

Alcina hummed, although not in disagreement; she too did not want to be parted in the afterlife. "You are mine dragă mea."

"I am yours just as you are mine; that will never change."

Smoothing out tangled curls, the maiden pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of her wife's head. Seconds later, Alcina's chest stilled and only then did the final Dimitrescu shed her tears, leading to the scene Ethan saw before him.

"Where is my daughter?"

No success, her sobs continued to wrack her body, oblivious to the man's question as she pressed her face into the top of her wife's head.

"Where is Rose?"

He demanded louder each time, growing more frustrated with a lack of results he had hoped to achieve from this massacre. Eventually, without any patience left, he drew closer, his footfalls treading carefully across stained floors. Extending an arm, allowing a hand to come into contact with the blonde’s shoulder, snapped the maiden’s attention to the man who murdered her family, her innate fear of being removed from her beloved squashed upon meeting his bitter gaze.

"Why would I tell you anything, Ethan Winters?"

For once, he had no response, but she filled the silence with her resentful tone, despite her wavering voice and quivering lip. "You hold no more bargaining chips. You played your cards much too early. How foolish a man to have made such avoidable mistakes."

He scoffed as if to refute her statement; despite all of the stacking evidence that she was right, some small part of his mind refused to acknowledge or toy with the concept that she was wrong.

"You want a daughter you will not find; I will not divulge a secret of which I was entrusted with. For you killed my daughters, my wife, my everything. Nothing you can say or do could repair or undo the damage you have caused. You will leave here knowing you have failed."

With that said, the maiden prepared for the inevitable, for Ethan's weapons to end her life much like he had the other four Dimitrescu's at her refusal to share what information he desired. Holding her wife tighter and an arm resting across her daughters, she waited. But the blow nor bullet she anticipated came, leaving a hollow, empty sensation festering in her chest.

"I won't kill you until I leave with what I came for."

"Unfortunately for you, that is the opposite of what will happen."

Before Ethan could stop her, she grabbed her youngest’s discarded sickle, and for all to hear, she said aloud, "In life and in death, glory to Mother Miranda." The weapon was swung with force, finalising the end of the Dimitrescu household, allowing the last member to come to rest, still clutching her wife's body with a loosened grip.

Ethan had failed.

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

Only hours later, without hearing from his sister, did Heisenberg approach the castle. Lacking his lycans or other substantial back up he entered silently, aware of the games that may be ongoing. He did not want to spoil his niece's fun.

Entering the hall brought about a shock; in the light of the fires dying embers lay those who he had called his family. Untouched from the fight, Daniela was held between her sisters, flanked on either side, just as she had adored as a child. Alcina was to their right, body held by her wife, who distinctly lacked the sickle once embedded in her skin. The very weapon was strewn to the side, still marred by her blood. Those emerald eyes Alcina adored to talk of were now closed in respect, an unforeseen gesture carried out by none other than the man who wreaked such havoc before having absconded. The matriarch's wife had her arm extended, albeit stiff with rigour mortis, across the girls, forever comforting them in a maternal gesture.

Never did Karl anticipate an ending like this, although he was only thankful for their departure together, for they remained a family even in their time of death.

But for now, it was time to inform Mother Miranda of their demise.

#Anonymous #resident evil #resident evil village #resident evil alcina dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #alcina x oc #alcina x unnamed maiden #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #karl heisenberg #mother miranda #angst #mostly angst #tw: blood #tw: injury #tw: graphic depictions of violence #tw: death #tw: implied suicide #tw: gun violence #tw: use of blades

[yaboylevi]

Hi! I love ur blog, especially ur Snk Metas and Ereri metas. What are your thoughts on the whole “Eren has always been like this” (always been evil or capable of great evils like genocide) that a lot of people seem to agree on? I’ve always had a hard time believing in that idea because we’ve been shown multiple times that Eren is capable of sympathy and empathy, so to say he’s ALWAYS been like this is wrong.

Hi! Thank you!!

Looking through my snk 121 tag I found that I have already received similar questions, so I’m gonna link one here if you want the short version of it. Even if it was something I wrote up right after the chapter was out, it’s not like my opinion has changed much... more like, my faith in Isayama writing a decent conclusion and explanation in regards to Eren has plummeted in the past year and a half.

But anyway, now we have some new information pertaining Eren, so I feel like I can add more on this moment and my take on it in light of such new perspective.

Let me preface this with: Eren hates what he’s doing, is despising every second, was scared of his future visions, often paralyzed, desperate to find a better solution than this, because he knows - let me repeat it - HE KNOWS this is horrifying. We had hints throughtout the story, but many have ignored them. For me, Eren going through grief and apologizing for something he hadn’t even done yet in chapters 131 was no shocker at all, but I guess some people may have actually been surprised, I don’t know. It was right there since the Marley arc and his breakdown over Sasha, but many have completely misinterpreted that scene, denying it was desperation that he was feeling, so it was nice to finally have confirmation. Kinda.

However, you know, Isayama doesn’t seem to have picked a side on his characterization of Eren. Or maybe there is still something that’s concealed, because everything we have seen, isn’t evething that has happened, and it doesn’t explain yet some things about Eren and, relevant to this post, why Eren has decided to give up and give in to his future self’s memories of destruction. I’m sorry, but Eren believing “there is no other way, other than killing the whole world’s population, because the future cannot be changed” due to some memories is not gonna cut it, especially because we haven’t seen him fight too hard against it. In my opinion, at least. Or maybe he did, but we haven’t been shown.

The most hopeful part of my heart wishes he is already trying to change things, in a very roundabout and secret way, but the tired and logical part is done hoping. After all, Eren is alternating between being hellbent on going through with rumbling the world, and being absolutely horrified by it. I’ve been getting whiplash every month for a couple of years now.

As for your actual question, and that line during the Paths Time Travel...

Let’s start from here, shall we? That whole conversation with Zeke in Paths was to Zeke what chapter 112 was to Mikasa and Armin, imo. Chapter 121, huh, same numbers...but anyways. I think I have already wrote it somewhere, but I believe Eren lied, and purposely hurt Zeke. To make him, and Mikasa and Armin, realize something and act accordingly, maybe against Eren himself.

In Mikasa’s case, the realization was gradual since then, because Eren’s lies kickstarted it immediately. In Armin’s case, I think we still haven’t seen the full potential of it, though it may come next chapter - and I mean the “You were influenced by Bertolt, an enemy” angle. I am surprised Armin hasn’t followed this reasoning in regards to Eren, who has three titans within him, none of them particularly allied with Paradis. We left Armin seeing Bertolt, who is, in turn, watching him. I wonder if a conversation won’t happen right off the bat in chapter 136.

Anyhow, Eren, in chapter 112, also very much hit Armin and Mikasa where it hurt them the most - which is the same thing he did to Zeke here, bringing up his hate for Grisha and how it was the only think really fuelling him, and went through all the effort of making him reconcile with Grisha. Mmm, sus. Am I the only one feeling it’s sus??? I really have to wonder if he doesn’t kind of want/need Zeke to stop him, just like I believe he did with Armin and Mikasa. After all, there was no need to antagonize them and make them have reasons to stop caring for him, if he didn’t want to be stopped.

So, if it wasn’t already clear, Eren is a big liar, and he’s good at it if you don’t know him (and Zeke, Armin, and Mikasa have proven they don’t know or understand him very well at times). His acting skills have been shown all the way back in the cabin scene when he was 8 years old and tricked those traffickers.

There is another layer to these lies that I’d like to touch upon, though.

The line you were inquiring about feels exactly like his “I am free” in chapter 112. He sounds so sure, but it is a freaking lie.

See how both Armin and Mikasa are confused by such a bold, out-of-the-blue statement, the same way Zeke asks Eren “Since birth?” because, like, what is that all even about?

Eren has been feeling trapped in his own future memories to the point that his freedom of choice even existing anymore has become a big question mark. There is no freedom in following the path you were shown.

Eren’s urge to save someone from “having their freedom solen” by “physically assaulting the perpetrators first” has never, ever meant that he was willing to or okay with sacrificing innocents. Quite the opposite, in fact. There have been whole arcs about that. About Eren freaking out over people dying for him, refusing to sacrifice friends for the bigger picture, grieving for or sympathizing with innocents losing their lives or having them destroyed by some bigger threat. That has not changed.

So the big question remains: Why?

With these outrageous and confident statements about himself, I don’t think Eren is merely lying to his interlocutor to change their perception of him. I think he is lying to himself as well in the meantime. It looks like it did the trick, or not - based on how you want to interpret it. He really has been dissociating hard during his rampage.

But it all depends on what Isayama's angle is with Eren. In 112 Eren seemed to believe his “I am free” statement because he had an instant reaction to Armin challenging it. At the same time, now that we also have chapter 130-131 to enrich our reading, there is no way Eren felt free into the choices he made after hearing Willy’s declaration of war. He saw a terrifying future, he hoped against hope that it would change, but felt powerless and gutted and desperate that all pointed to such a future being unchangeable. So I do wonder if maybe he didn’t end up lying to himself - subconsciously or not - that he is free... and that he is always been this way - a cold-blooded murderer who did it all for justice.

Zoom in on Eren forlornly watching himself as a kid show pure kindess to a girl who just went through the most traumatizing experience in her life.

For the matter, I don’t believe Eren “has always been this way”. I actually don’t believe he’s ever been that way. I don’t know why many(?) people just accept whatever Eren says at face value, ignoring all context surronding it.

As I posted very recently, it doesn’t make sense for Eren to go from one extreme to the other without a better excuse, or explanation, or a more believable writing of it...or a plot twist that I guess I will wait for for another 4 months:

Eren came to realize that outside the walls people are just...well, people. There are good ones everywhere, people who suffered just like him, people who deserve better, certainly don’t deserve to be caught up in the Rumbling, people who have lives, children, moms, loved ones. This is highlighted again in chapter 131, because maybe, when Eren brought it up in the basement with Falco and Reiner, people didn’t think he was being genuine. So Isayama shows us again that Eren truly believed that.

And yet, the chapter before, Eren put those very same people on the same level of Titans when he used to think Titans were scum, a nightmare sent to eat them alive, because he addressed them with “匹”, a derogatory counter when applied to people, because it is usually used for small animals.

The parallel to how he used to feel towards Titans is smacked in our faces, because in Japanese, it’s the same exact line. He now feels that way about people.

...What?

It doesn’t make sense, right?

Because really, the same way Eren’s first impulse in Marley was to save Ramzi when he was being beaten up (and threatened with a worse fate than some bruises), the same way Eren helped him regardless and again went against 3 full-grown men, it’s the same way Eren rushed to Mikasa’s rescue when he didn’t even know her... or the same way he pushed himself into a Titan’s mouth just to save Armin. it doesn’t come from a sentiment of “I need to punish these monsters because they are threatening me”. It comes from a natural, intrinsic need to help and save others. It is deeply saddening that at the end of this journey, with Ramzi, he just feels like this natural predisposition of his is just a fake and turns him into a hypocrite.

So for Eren to say he has always been that way while looking at his 8 years old self stabbing a human trafficker in the chest to save a little girl to try and explain why he’s killing innocent people who happens to be living alongside “the bad guys” is a false equivalence. Either it’s a lie Eren tells himself and to Zeke to make both of them believe this is what Eren is, and has always been, and there is nothing they could do to prevent it - in a sort of twisted liberation from guilt because “if I was always like this, then you and I both shouldn’t have expected anything different”...

...or it’s Isayama’s failed attempt at presenting a theoretical concept he liked and talked about in interviews, suddenly turning Eren into a poster boy for it and canceling previous sides of Eren’s complexity as a character. I would like to believe Isayama hasn’t lost his magic touch this badly, but every day I’m less sure of it.

My opinion, for what is worth, is that that line you quoted is something he said to trick Zeke into detaching himself from Eren and going against him - breaking the bonds of love all around him has been a very deliberate choice Eren has made post time-skip - and at the same time it’s something Eren is trying to believe himself, in a desperate attempt at explaining to his own conscience that he was destined to bring such destruction, that he was always capable of it, and that there is a sort of justice in it where there isn’t. And he knows, deep down. That’s why he dissociates in the end.

In a very twisted, self-deprecating way, Eren is a liar to everyone, himself included. He has become an unreliable narrator about himself. Eren has completely shut down because he cannot stand what he is doing.

And I would very much like to know why he gave up on trying to find a different solution, if that’s what it is that happened, and why he sounds like a different person every other scene he appears in, in the next 4 months.

#eren yeager #snk spoilers #snk meta #shingeki asks

[sir-huffman]

Moral Alignment | Lawfully Good...or so he says

TL;DR: Huffman is a man with very high morals, however although his hands are clean he leaves a trail of blood where-ever he goes. Unlike the Dark Knight Hero who takes matters into his own hands, Huffman plays from the shadows and let others do things he cannot. Perhaps he’s an egotistical arrogant bastard who looks down upon those who kill out of spite. Perhaps he’s a coward too scared to get caught himself. But either way...the job get done and that’s all that matters.

Note: Duke can’t get away from writing morally ambiguous characters, not that this isn’t anything new with the lore in Genshin. Duke must thank astrakyn who has unknowingly help me question how far Huffman would go for Vlad Mondstadt. --

General Information

Huffman works closely with Kaeya and the Fatui (should their goals align)

Huffman is stationed outside of Angel’s Share to look after Diluc (requested by Kaeya)

Huffman works with Swan (his subordinate) to restock and dispense medication

Huffman is one of the few knights who works with the Fatui instead of against them. And as such, he does his job well by keeping this fact a secret even from the others within the Knights of Favonius - after all:

“it is forbidden to disclose details of any matters concerning Knights of Favonius operations and strategic deployment to any persions from outside the organization while not on active duty” - see Section Five (new) of the Knights of Favonius Handbook 5th Edition

Should he be caught, he would be severely punished for being involved so heavily with them as well as being an accomplice to many crimes committed within Mondstadt. Huffman, although innocent of committing the crimes himself, has aided many assassinations and illegal transactions that happen within the city walls. He would even go so far as to help orchestrate them

...BUT don’t mistaken his acquaintanceship to be a true partnership - after all he IS a Knight of Favonius and NOT a Fatui. Huffman just isn’t afraid to move the board pieces when no one is looking - he learned best from his superiors after all.

(see below for an expanded version of the points above)

KAEYA

Huffman works very closely with Kaeya to the point where Huffman knows more about Kaeya that many of the other knights (even that is a weak claim by itself). He can pick up things Kaeya hints and drops without Kaeya having to break his facade, and as such Huffman has learned how to manipulate and read people quite easily. With this, Huffman is able to maintain many secrets of his own - even ones that Kaeya can’t figure out (or chooses to ignore).

However, Huffman is highly recommended by Kaeya and has been requested to help out in many places. From being stationed outside of Angel’s Share to taking over the task of keeping inventory of the medication for Lisa, Huffman has a tall order to fill as Kaeya is a man who wants to have eyes and ears all over.

And as such, Huffman knows the true reason why Kaeya has requested him so many tasks...and another reason why Huffman makes sure that he is always fifty steps ahead of his superior.

THE FATUI

Huffman is known to be polite and courteous to all who arrive in Mondstadt. As such, he is often tasked to watch over all the Fatui as he is one of the few (or rather ONLY) knight who treats them with the upmost respect genuinely. He takes care to watch their every move and makes sure they are not a threat to Mondstadt as there is ongoing tension between them.

However, this would bring up concerns within the knights and there have been plenty of investigations of Huffman’s exact relationship with the Fatui. All of them confirming that the knight was nothing but the pinnacle of the ideals written in the Knights of Favonius Handbook.

But of course, that just means they don’t have the evidence to prove his guilt. This is because Huffman is the only Knight willing to work with the Fatui - after all they scratch his back and he scratches theirs. It’s a mutually beneficial relationship despite it being a very dangerous one.

STATION: ANGEL’S SHARE (in game)

Huffman was assigned to patrol outside of Angel’s Share for one specifically reason: to watch over Diluc for Kaeya. This was a personal request, one that Huffman granted as he had worked alongside Kaeya for plenty of years. So while Kaeya is away, Huffman keeps watch over the people who go in and out of Angel’s Share and always keeps a close eye on Diluc should he show up.

MEDICATION INVENTORY (see Lisa’s story 3)

Huffman was assigned to help keep inventory of the medical supplies, restocking and dispensing them, with the help of Swan. This was a recommendation to Lisa by Kaeya, who had suggested Huffman take over as he had proven his reliability plenty of times.

This, in turn, has allowed Huffman to become vary familiar with all all the herbs and treatments used for those in need. He keeps strict inventory checks every day and goes above and beyond to make sure they are well supplied for emergencies. He also knows where every single medication is going and why they are needed - to say the least he knows many things that happen in Mondstadt.

As such, Huffman is very keep on keeping a supply of medical herbs and ointments on him. That is to say someone is in need of medication or could be used as a poison...depending on what is needed at hand.

OTHER INFORMATION

Huffman either knows (or has inklings) that Diluc is the Dark Knight Hero - however as Kaeya said “he has been known to be wrong on occasion”, Huffman keeps this information to himself and doesn’t go spreading rumors (especially to the Fatui) - after all Huffman had been tasked to watch over Diluc as requested by Kaeya

Huffman has helped (and will continue) to help Fatui with their missions in Mondstadt. He will help create alibis, covering up their tracks, and being a cleaner for the Fatui should their goals align

Huffman prefers to uses poison as his weapon - he doesn’t do this often as he has other pawns to use to do the deeds

Huffman awaits the day  the Fatui or the Dark Knight Hero assassinate him as he (1) knows too much about the Fatui for a non-member, and (2) he has helped the Fatui as well as being a Knight of Favonius - a disgrace that should be punished with death

Huffman is very manipulative, however he hides this well with his kind and caring nature. He is no master at it, not at all, but he will give advice to help push things in the direction he wants them to go and isn’t that what manipulation is?

CONCEPT IDEAS (not official but thoughts)

Huffman has yet to kill, but has tortured many

Huffman is known as “an Informant” to to the Knights of Favonius, the Dark Knight Hero, and the Fatui. As such he plays all sides as his main goal is to protect Mondstadt despite his loyalties to be to the Knights

Huffman originally was direct subordinate to Diluc before he had left

#ooc: { references } #ooc: { post } #ooc: { long post } #//when duke just word vomits #//yeah this is what i think about at night #//=-= #//duke: forgets the dark knight hero exists #//duke: remembers the dark knight hero exists #//duke: welp i guess huffman is the more hands off vigilante #//idk if this makes sense at all #//*posts when everyone is asleep*

[aaetherius]

@ohreinsof​ (Plotted Starter)

     Lyria, he believes is the name of the blue haired girl who has been in and out of his room over the past few days, had spent the last six hours describing various places, people, and something called coffee in vivid detail to him as she had sat upon the stool beside his bed - fingers curled about its wooden edge as legs swung back and forth. The dragon with her...Vyrn had occasionally chimed in, either adding to the stories she had told him or cutting her off before she could finish. They, alongside a brown-haired individual they referred to as the captain - who had laughed when he referred to them as such, and the alchemist who always run in and out of the room with one too many supplies in her arms as she ran various tests he didn’t quite understand nor know the purpose of, were the only people who had been allowed, according to said alchemist, in his room until now. Something about making sure he was ready for proper guests first (because apparently the other three didn’t count as ‘proper’ guests, whatever that meant), and constantly hushing the dragon when he and the blue haired girl would bring up someone named Sandy or Sandals, but according to Lyria’s rant today his actual name was Sandalphon, telling them both to keep this (he’s fairly certain she was referring to him when she had said that) a secret from him just in case ‘something else went horribly wrong’. 

        Well, he already knew what the ‘something that had gone horribly wrong the first time’ was. Lyria had so passionately described people he should have known to him to such an extent one would believe she was an artist recounting a painting, yet, no matter how long or how agonizingly detailed her recounts were, he still did not know who she was talking about. Save for a slight tug at his core when she mentioned coffee and the dreadful feeling of knowing but also completely not knowing when she described Sandalphon to him. He couldn’t remember much of anything. Not the Primarchs she had rattled off nor the details of any battle she had brushed over, nor the fact that he had died. She, actually, hadn’t informed him of that. The alchemist had told him that much while grumbling about the fact that the other two would probably never bring it up. Sometimes he learned more from her grumbling than he did from their rambling as they would often get sidetracked partway through the conversation. But it didn’t much matter what he could gather from them about himself when everything they said felt distant and unreal and foreign to him. 

        Today, after that six hour session of Lyria describing, primarily, Sandalphon and coffee to him, the alchemist (he still didn’t know her name - she came and left like a whirlwind most days and he only understood roughly one third of what she was saying) finally informed him that nothing she had tried thus far had worked and he was doing fairly well in regards to ‘adjusting to the body she had made him’ so they might as well, finally, tell the crew that he was around and that, apparently, also meant telling Sandalphon the good news alongside with the bad news, which was why Lyria had spent so long talking about him today - likely hoping she could jog his memory, but failing. They seemed to hope speaking with him would do the trick. He had his doubts, but he humored them regardless because he didn’t have much of a choice, but a part of him already felt guilty, especially when the alchemist informed not to tell the other that he had actually been ‘revived’ for almost a week now and it had taken everything in their power to keep that a secret from this Sandalphon and if he gave them away on it she wasn’t about to deal with the consequences of hiding him from the other for a solid seven days because he had been unbearable, apparently, the one time she had mentioned possibly attempting to ‘make him a body’. He’s not sure what her definition of unbearable actually was. She seemed to get frustrated fairly easily. 

         So, he sat, back leaning against a collection of fluffy pillows Lyria had shoved behind him to help his aching back and ‘just in case his wings came back they’d be comfortable’. What wings, he had wanted to ask, but she hadn’t given him the chance, in a small room somewhere on the ship that had been mentioned to him passing because apparently none of them had seemed it all that important to tell him much about it. The curtains were drawn back and the sun filtered in through window - highlighting the almost empty room in a flaxen glow that warmed the side of his face and painted golden streaks upon silky, white locks. Slender hands were folded neatly upon his lap where a white sheet was draped. They told him they had managed to recreate his armor, as well, but it was in the closest at the moment because the alchemist had told him if he damaged his body at all that ‘I brought you back into this world and I can take you out of it again’ so the Captain stole some clothes from someone named Lucio instead and shoved them on him - just a white robe and then he had gone rummaging through the closest and wrapped the red ribbon there about his shoulders said ‘perfect’ and ran off to fetch Sandalphon alongside the others.

       Now all he could do was wait. The room silent aside from the handful of footsteps and hushed voice he could hear running around just outside of it - the most he had heard in days so they must have informed the rest of the crew of that he was alive - that’s still a concept he’s having a difficult time grasping, but he doesn’t think it wise to linger on it. Instead, he tries to go over the various things Lyria had told him about Sandalphon - having committed them all to memory. But still, nothing, just a faint hum of his core that sounded almost pitifully sad and fingers lifted to press gingerly against his chest where it had started to ache. Blue eyes staring down at their tips where the light caught his skin. And then the door creaked open, his gaze snapping away from his hand to lift in order to meet the brown-haired man who now stood in the doorway. He was just a bit taller than the Captain, but his hair looked just as messy as theirs. A faint, polite smile stretched onto his lips, though it fell soon after. Despite all of their best efforts, even when looking directly at him and knowing, somehow, that this is him, he still doesn’t actually remember him. 

        Lips part to speak, but then close again. That hand upon his chest pressing just a bit harder the louder and louder his core threatens to hum violently. The guilt he feels is overwhelming. He should know him. Lyria had tried so hard. And he doesn’t speak for a moment because he doesn’t trust his voice not to crack under the weight of it all. But he does manage, after a few painful seconds of prolonged silence to muster something up from the depths of his throat. “You are...Sandalphon, correct?” He tries to smile again, but the corners of his lips quiver slightly. “Lyria has...told me quite a bit about you.” He doesn’t know what he should say, this is first time it’s felt almost painful for him to speak to someone and now, he realizes, why Lyria and the others had been so very desperate to get him to recall something - anything - about this man.    

#ohreinsof #| ☩ And once again the sky rises; sincere and melancholic ☩ (IC) | #| ☩ Silver-seeped twilight ☩ (verse: AU - Post ) | #| ☩ Thread 13: Sandalphon: ohreinsof ☩ | #| ☩ And I will leave this light on to warm you in the dark ☩ (queue) | #{ Let me know if you need anything changed or if this doesn't work for you! } #{ There's so much set up in this and I am sorry about that hfeujhfueg }

[milkygcf]

Hiii I c ur doing reqs. U don't have to do this one though. I'm sure you'll be getting many so only if it inspires you 💖 buuttt here goesss. Vkook x reader. Jealousy. Angst. plshappyending. kluvvyouuu.

//credits to @jjks for the gif!//

Pairing | jjk x reader (ft. kth)

Genre | angst, s2l

Warnings | none

Summary |  ❝ Hiii I c ur doing reqs. U don't have to do this one though. I'm sure you'll be getting many so only if it inspires you 💖 buuttt here goesss. Vkook x reader. Jealousy. Angst. plshappyending. kluvvyouuu. ❞

Word Count | 1.6k

Author’s Note | hi anon!! your request is finished! i tried to make it as angsty as i could, although it does stray a bit from the jealousy you asked for 😅😅 yet if you squint, it’s hinted! alongside this, i hope the somewhat happy ending satisfies your wishes! i also hope this is to your liking ❤ thank you for requesting ✨ ________________________________________________________________

Taehyung has to moderately be the most romantic fellow you’ve ever met. You’ve known the dork for a good four years, befriending him at a summer camp your parents practically forced you to attend.

During the span of time, you earned the pleasure to watch him evolve into one fine man. From wearing those ugly pink shorts he was quite fond of, to having half of his wardrobe being nothing but pairs amongst pairs of slacks. You have to admit - despite your imposing disdain towards that garment, you kind of miss it. 

You also miss the countless nights awake tallying the stars that scattered across the sky with him. Or perhaps all the times he’d invite himself over and insist you watch Avatar: The Last Airbender with him.

Anyway, back to Taehyung being the hopeless romantic he is - lately, he’s been hell-bent on trying to find someone he can share his life with. 

And by time, he did.

However, you are not that someone. 

In fact, you are the side character that doesn’t obtain as much luck as the main character does. You sit and stare in the sidelines, watching as Taehyung relished in the confines of euphoria with someone he now calls his soulmate. 

That soulmate is not you.

“If love was a thing, what would you associate it with?” He queried silently one night, fumbling with his phone. Your fingers coursed through his soft locks that splattered across your chest and you frowned. 

If love was a thing, to you, it would’ve been Kim Taehyung. It would’ve been his deep, rich voice, the way it soothes your very soul and leaves you wanting to hear more. Or the constellations in his eyes - those who suppress every memory he has ever endured. Eyes who spill tears and crinkle when his lips curve into a jovial beam.

There are a mass of qualities you consider to be a concept of love.

He took your lack of response as cluelessness, locking his phone shut and letting a sigh flutter out of his lips. “Don’t you think it’s something akin to a warm summer? Or like a walk by the sea, with the fresh, chilly breeze making your hair flow.”

“That’s a way to put it,” you shifted under him, “Although everyone has different perspectives of the very subject.” “And I hope one day I’ll be able to meet someone with that same perspective.” 

Taehyung’s wishes eventually come true. After a span of perhaps a month, he comes running to you with tears of joy sprouting down his cheeks, the most merry smile spread across his lips. He engulfed you in a jostling hug and pecked your cheek, his sentences nothing but a jumble of words that you couldn’t seem to comprehend. 

If you had known back then, you would’ve told him that to you, love was like a rose trapped in an eternal winter. To you, it was lifeless - non-existent. How could you know of such a thing when you skipped the basics and immediately jumped onto heartbreak?

You are in love with Kim Taehyung - that much was clear. 

Nothing could possibly define the state of your heart as you listened intently to the way his voice spoke ecstatically about someone he was going to share the world with. 

“She’s like a rainbow after a murky storm, Y/N, I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so exquisite. Her eyes shine brighter than the crown jewels of England!” The way he interprets her makes you giggle - Taehyung always had a peculiar way of saying things. 

Although, the way your name rolls carelessly down his tongue makes you choke - no longer do you find it soothing, no longer do you find that same old caring tone laced into it. Like you were the only person he ever needed. You and him against the world. 

Heartbreak is a menace - god forbid someone ever experiences the turmoil it brings along with it. It is a plight that once you bump paths with, it encases itself around you and never fades. 

Unlike heartbreak, Taehyung becomes a distant memory. He does fade away - lets himself disintegrate in the nooks of your mind. You can do nothing but watch as he scatters any remaining thought of you and leaves it to his youthful moments in life. 

“Ah - sorry Y/N, we’re going out today! Our anniversary is soon, and we were hoping we could plan a small party.” 

“Right, yeah, that’s okay.” You lie right through your teeth, “Can we meet anytime soon? I miss you, you dork.”

Taehyung’s light laughter reverberates through your phone. Another fragment of your heart cracks and crumbles. “I miss you too silly! I’ve been a bit busy lately… What a bummer! I promise I’ll text you as soon as I’m free! Love ya!” 

You’re left with the eerie sound of your phone beeping. 

There’s a reason why you were never really fond of promises. They were meant to be broken - made to be hopes and dreams only to be twisted in the end. Unfortunately for you, the reason for your heartbreak never texted you back after that.

It’s your fault, really, you were the one who couldn’t come clean to your best friend. If you had told him just a sliver of your feelings, maybe things would have been different. Maybe you wouldn’t be watching raindrops trickle down your bedroom window alone. Maybe, just maybe, your sleepless nights would’ve been replaced with warmth spreading through your skin at Taehyung’s tender touch. 

You can do nothing but sulk now.

Except, you sulk until you stumble upon a stranger whom, just like you, battles the scarecrow lurking around them. It tore them down, made sure they praised regret for as long as they reminisce about each memory conceived with their last love. 

His name is Jeon Jungkook, and just like you, he lives with remnants of heartbreak staining his very soul. 

“She was the light of my life,” he announces grudgingly, eyes gleaming under the dimly lit night sky. “It’s like you finally start seeing colour. Like, actual colour, you get me?” 

Of course you do - you’ve been seeing that colour since you laid eyes on Taehyung at summer camp. 

“What about you?” Jungkook queries then, turning towards your slumped figure. Your fingers anxiously pick at the grass beneath you, a frown curving onto your lips. “Me?” Your voice comes out rather silent, a bit distressed. 

“What’s your story?”

“Well, Jeon, I thought I had everything until I carelessly let it slip away. A dumb move, really, it’s all my fault.” But in reality, how could you tell him? Was the result of rejection better than the state you’re left in now? You would’ve easily earned yourself an answer if you’d confessed. 

Jungkook looks at you with pity circling in the pits of his eyes. He makes it his mission to understand your anguish, what causes such disappointment in your features.

And then? He interlocks his fingers with yours and offers you a mellow smile. You turn to him with wide eyes, mouth agape as to what he was insisting. 

“In that case, I hope we can mend each other.” 

---

Taehyung has been out of it since the moment he cut the last call you’ve had together. Your very last interaction. Since then, he’s been throwing himself into his significant other’s arms, hoping that eventually, he’ll rid the guilt etching into him. 

Perhaps if he weren’t so foolish, things would have been different. How else was he supposed to spend his free-time now? He was used to your constant presence - your pearly whites out on show whenever he makes the dumbest of jokes. 

He craves the enjoyment he used to earn himself with you - the euphoric feeling bursting through him as he continues to relish on the beauties life offered with you.

It’s different now. 

The person he wakes up beside isn’t you - the same warmth he’d find himself aching for every time isn’t there. He finally found someone he could course life with, but it wasn’t you.

There’s a feeling nagging at him, yet despite how much he tries, he just can’t seem to fathom it. 

Taehyung is suddenly aware of his current standing. He’s aware of how you’ve become a distant memory - a fragment of his older life, a life he’s abandoned because he seeked out what he’d wished. 

But was it really what he’s always wanted?

His queries are answered when he spots you by someone else’s side. You’re smiling so brightly it’s almost humanly impossible. Something bubbles within the confines of his mind. It’s clear you’re with someone who’s clearly making you happy, although that someone’s not him. 

The very fact makes him feel somewhat conflicted, however he has no clue as to why he feels so distraught. 

You don’t notice his presence whatsoever, focus put directly on Jungkook and the little ministrations he was making with his hands. He was telling you about this one time he watched an animated movie and how he’d further on adapt to the idea of hearing bells when meeting his soulmate. It’s endearing - it makes you want to tune in to more.

Both you and Jungkook found solace in each other, trying to mend your broken hearts despite how challenging it is. You found comfort and happiness, and by time, you both let go of the burdensome heartbreak sitting on your shoulders. 

That, however, didn’t count on Taehyung’s side. 

And as he watches you be whisked away by a stranger he has no knowledge of, it finally dawns on him how he’d lost you due to his foolishness.

#btscreatorscorner #bts #bts jungkook #bts taehyung #bts v #bts yoongi #bts suga #bts hoseok #bts jhope #bts seokjin #bts jin #bts namjoon #bts rm #bts jimin #jeon jungkook #kim taehyung #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #park jimin #jung hoseok #jeon jungkook x reader #kim taehyung x reader #taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts angst #kth x reader #jjk x reader

[athenadcvell]

If you're up for it, Stephen Strange and any brotp (I prefer friendship to romance lol). But any other character, common or rare, male or female, human or alien. Any genre from comedy to whump. I just really like Stephen. I need more Stephen.

@aelaer ... Hiiiiiiiii.... ok. So. I don’t even know if you remember making this request, but long story short, you probably made it near the end of July, or beginning of August. So ages ago. And me being me, I decided to postpone writing it until just now. Basically, I lost a lot of inspiration for writing and found it really hard to even sit in front of a computer, but I miss doing something I love, so I’m back and ready to write again. And I finally finished your ask, and I wanna say how sorry I am for taking so long. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this fic!

Word Count: 2,606

Warnings: None, unless you count angst and a little fluff

A/N: The brotp is Wong and Stephen, because I don’t think we get enough of their friendship and I thought this would be fun to do. Tbh I don’t think this is my best work because I’m trying to slowly get back into writing again, but I still tried really hard on this, so hopefully you enjoy :)

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So many things were wrong with today. Not just because today was today, but because of small, simple things that you don’t normally think about. The weather, for instance. It was too sunny. The clouds were too white and the sky was too blue. And that god awful sun. Why would it shine so brightly? 

The birds were chirping too cheerfully. The sang their meaningless songs of nature and serenity, not a clue what effect they were having on the humans around them. Don’t they have any respect? They wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for… 

Stephen closes his eyes slowly, trying (and failing) to block out those pestering thoughts. What good will it do now? What’s done is done. 

Today was the funeral of Anthony Edward Stark. A father. Husband. Mentor. 

A hero. A dead hero. 

And it’s Stephen’s fault. 

He can imagine what Christina would say if she were here. Hell, what Wong would say. 

“It’s not your fault, Stephen. It was the only way.” Or would they even say that? No one knows it was the only way except for him. No one else manipulated the time stone and underwent the millions of scenarios, only to find one that didn’t result in the world ending in a fiery ball of Thanos’ wrath. He’s the only one who will ever be burdened with this. With having to witness Earth being destroyed over and over and over… 

Stephen looks up, seeing the small silhouette of a little girl by the lake. The funeral ended about an hour ago, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave just yet. He should leave. Go back to the sanctum and get to work in rebuilding the chaos the world is left in at the moment. But he can’t bring himself to. 

Tony was his friend. Someone he had come to care for. Perhaps this Tony didn’t consider Strange a friend, however, Stephen considered all of them his friends and teammates. He had gone to hell and back with them fourteen million six hundred and five times. He had developed bonds, whether they knew it or not. 

Morgan Stark. The daughter of the man he… he what? Stephen didn’t kill Tony. Sure, he could have let the deceased remain deceased, however, eventually, another threat would come. He saw that. He saw the Avengers being slaughtered and humans being taken as slaves. He saw it all. This was the only way… right?

Stephen has to turn away from her. He can’t bear to look at this small child who can barely understand what is going on today. All she knows is that her father won’t be there to tuck her in tonight. And that kills Stephen. It lays an unearthly amount of guilt upon his shoulders. One man’s life for half of the universe shouldn’t be a difficult concept to accept. 

So why is he having such a hard time accepting that Tony Stark is really gone?

Stephen lets out a quiet sigh, turning away to walk into the woods. A walk, before he goes back. To clear his head. That’s what he needs right now. 

He doesn’t get far when a shadow appears in front of his feet. Raising a brow, the sorcerer follows the darkness of the shadow to its owner, slightly surprised to see Wong standing in front of him. For once, he’s dressed in something other than  his robes, adorning a simple black suit instead. 

“Shouldn’t you be guarding the sanctum?”

  “I left Master Awiti in charge,” Wong waves him off, hands clasped professionally behind his back. “Besides. I never did get my tuna melt.”

Stepehn stares at the sorcerer, dumbfounded. He can’t be serious?

“You’re telling me,” Stephen begins, raising a scrutinizing brow. “That in the last five years, you never bothered to buy a tuna melt?” Wong shrugs. 

“Everyone at the deli was dead.”

“Oh, so there were none other open?”

“Come, Let’s go get a sandwich,” Wong ignores his last question, opening a portal and stepping aside. Stephen rolls his eyes, nonetheless stepping through the circle crackling with golden sparks. 

“This place is still open?” Stephen questions quietly as they come to a halt in front of the deli. It was a continuous favorite of his. Even before all… this. Before the accident, when he was just a surgeon who was impeccably good at his job. 

“Yes,” Wong nods, walking ahead of him to enter the shop. Stephen runs a hand along his peppered hair, sighing once again and following after his friend. 

It’s a simple deli, with an array of meats on display in front of the cash register, and a few wooden benches to sit and eat on. After ordering and receiving their sandwiches, the two men take a seat by the window and dive in. 

Well, Wong dives in. Stephen, on the other hand, doesn't touch his food, simply staring out the window with a longing look in his eyes. Wong follows his line of sight to across the street, where a row of condos sit. A teenager knocks on the door, holding a slip of paper between her shaking hands. She knocks on the door, once, then steps back, pushing her shoulders back and standing straight. As the door opens, and as a young man comes into view, her shoulders immediately drop. They speak for a bit, before she sulks away. 

“She’s looking for her family,” Stepohen states, attempting to come off as casual. Wong hears the tenseness in his voice. 

“Many families were misplaced after Thanos,” Wong explains, folding his hands together. “I’m sure she will find hers soon.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

“I actually wanted to speak to you about that,” Wong clears his throat, leaning forward. “I had plans to bring it up after a meal, but this works as well. Myself and some of the other sorcerers thought it would be fit for us to assist in reuniting families, as we have locators on every person-”

“Do what you want,” Stephen waves him off, catching his friend by surprise. 

“What?”

“You ran the sanctum just fine for five years,” Stephen crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back. “Take over. I’m done.”

“Strange-”

“I completed my purpose, Wong,” He cuts Wong off, brows furrowing together. “I helped save the universe. And in doing so, I took a father away from his child. A husband away from his wife. I robbed the world of a hero. So no, I don’t want to go back to the Sanctum and continue being the Sorcerer Supreme. I… I can’t.”

Wong has never seen him like this before. So… broken. Stephen doesn’t do broken. He does confidence, and a bit too much pride to be healthy. But broken? Wong knew he had put himself in a time loop, but he didn’t think it had affected him this much. 

“Get up,” Wong stands abruptly, looking down at Stephen with a hardset gaze. Stephen stares back, clearly confused. “We’re walking now. Up.”

Strange lets out a heavy sigh, smoothening down the sides of his hair and following after Wong. The golden portal opens up, and the two step through. Stephen is surprised to find himself standing in the midst of a forest. Pine and leaves drift through the air, the sounds of squirrels scuttling up trees and birds chirping happily the only ones to hear. The sorcerer’s pale eyes drift up towards the sky, clouded by towering trees wearing soft blankets of moss. 

All in all, it’s very calming. Serene. Well, it should be serene. Stephen finds it… plain. He used to find all of serenity and happiness in an O.R, before the accident. Before every aspect of his life changed. 

“Where are we, Wong?” He sighs, turning towards his friend tiredly. Wong ignores him, continuing to gaze calmly at the scene. 

“I come here when I am feeling overwhelmed,” Replies Wong after a long moment, hands clasped behind his back. He closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath. 

“Okay…” Stephen’s eyes flicker left and right before back to his friend, who happens to be weirding him in this particular situation. “So what do I-”

“I grew up in the sanctum,” Wong interrupts, slightly annoying the other. “I come from a long generation of Chinese monks that served the Ancient One. I watched my father- Master Hamir- practice alongside her for years. It was quite the image to live up to, and I remember constantly being frightened that I would not achieve the level of excellence and perfection he had in his work.”

“Master Hamir is your father?” Stephen chokes in disbelief. “H-How did I not know this? I thought we were friends, Wong. Friends tell friends when they’re fathers are working in the same building as them!”

“This forest in Northern China gave me peace and moments of redemption from the real world. Trapping myself in the mirror dimension and meditating allowed me to think, and grow.”

“All this time, I just thought you two talked a lot because you were friends,” Stephen scoffs, shaking his head, still hung up on the earlier subject. Wong rolls his eyes. 

“I failed to mention it because there was no benefit in you knowing. Now pay attention. I brought you to this sacred place to help you.”

“I don’t need help,” Strange mutters stubbornly turning away. 

“Do you hear that?” Wong asks quietly, closing his eyes. Stephen snorts. 

“What? The sound of my time being wasted? Loud and clear, buddy.”

“The river,” The librarian corrects. “The splash of water against the stones? The creatures of the forest lapping it up?”

“Sure,” Stephen plays along, shrugging. “I hear it.”

“Do you hear the sounds of the birds chirping in the trees?”

“Yes.”

“And the squirrels running up the trees to the safety of their burrows?”

“Yes, Wong, I have ears,” Stephen snaps. “Now that we’ve confirmed that I’m not deaf, can we go home? I have work I need to finish.”

“The animals,” Wong, once again, ignores him. “The trees, and the grass. Even the insects crawling beneath our feet. They wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you. You helped bring them back”

Stephen freezes in place, stiffening up. He’s an idiot. He should have known what Wong’s goal was all along. But then again, Wong isn’t exactly a “help you feel better’ kind of person. He’s the kind of person who will tell you to suck it up and keep fighting, because that’s the only thing to do. This… all of it… if very new territory. 

“I know that,” Stephen glares at him, whipping around. “I helped. We all did. You think I don’t know that?”

“You blame yourself,” Wong tells him. “For the deaths. Iron Man. Widow. Gamora. The Vision. Loki. The Asgardians. All the lives lost after the snap, those who weren’t strong enough to handle the losses. Those who couldn’t survive without-”

“I don’t,” Stephen cuts him off harshly, clenching his shaking hands in frustration. When he gets particularly angry, it’s hard to control the tremors. “That’s not my problem. My priority was defeating Thanos, and it’s done! It’s over! I did what needed to be done, and I can’t do anything about anyone whose dead! I can’t bring them back!  I can’t… ”

It’s too much. Too much pain, and guilt. Too many emotions. 

Shit. 

It’s an overload on his heart, and before Stephen knows it, he’s breaking down. He stumbles in his place, falling to the floor messily. It doesn’t matter. The stinging in his knees and palms, the stinging in his eyes… nothing compares to the pain in his heart. The weight crushing his shoulders. 

He buries his head in his hands, pulling at his hair. It all comes rushing at once. The millions of scenarios, and deaths… Flashes of memories… Thanos stabbing Tony threw the chest with no chance of resurrection, Quill being practically ripped in half, Peter’s being thrown back with so much force he dies on impact… that wasn’t dust. They didn't turn to dust. They died. Horrifying and gruesome deaths, in front of those who cared about them. Over, and over, and over, and-

“Strange!” Wong’s booming voice pulls him back into reality, and the sorcerer realizes tears are making there way down his cheeks. Not just one. Several stain his skin, small little indications of sorrow written across his features. 

“I’m fine,” He pushes Wong away, attempting to stand up. It’s a failed attempt as he stumbles back and lands back on the floor with a defeated thump. “I’m fine. I’m… I’m …,” He harshly wipes away the tears, wanting to force himself to stop this madness. There is no reason, no reason to cry. To be sad. He survived. His friends. Survived. But this toll…

Wong doesn’t try to comfort or help Stephen up, which he is thankful for. Instead, the librarian takes a seat on a rock beside him, and folds his hands together. He sits quietly, closing his eyes and peacefully meditating. 

“I helped save them,” Stephen finally speaks, leaning against a tree stump. “I protected the stone and gave it up. I helped orchestrate the events so they would happen. But… five years, Wong. Five years of parents mourning their children. Of friends having an empty void in their lives, and children wandering around mindlessly without the guiding hands of their mothers and fathers. Five years… you know in one instance, it was five hundred years? Everything happened the same, except this time, I let five hundred years go by. A new age of heroes saved the Earth, but it wasn’t the Earth anymore. It was so broken and different that I had to scrap it. Another time, five months went by. I changed some events, leaving clues. But they weren’t ready, and Thanos came in contact with the stones again. He destroyed the Earth. This was the only way.”

He waits for Wong to cut in with some sort of inspirational note, and is caught by surprise when he does not. Slightly relieved, as well. 

“I close my eyes, and I see them. Dying. Because of me-”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Strange,” Wong finally speaks. “You always like to make it about you. Everyone who died died because of a reason, and that reason was not you. The Asgardians happened to come across Thanos’ ship. The daughter of Thanos died at his hand, and Stark was always ready to sacrifice himself for the greater good. They did that. Not you. Them.”

“But-”

“No,” Wong cuts in, opening his eyes just enough to roll them. “No more buts. This is a sacred place. Sit and be silent, I no longer want to hear about your non existent self pity. It was a war, and individuals die in war. That is no one’s fault but the enemy. And you’re solution is to give up? That’s a cowards way out, Stephen.” 

Stephen slumps back in defeat, pressing his thumb into his right palm. “Anyone ever tell you you’re kind of a hardass?”

“What do you not understand about, be silent?” Wong sighs, causing Stephen to smirk and begin talking about something else mindlessly. Wong mocks annoyance, but deep inside, he feels relief, and even a bit of happiness. Five years was far too long for Strange to be gone. Sure, he may be annoying, and though Wong would never admit it, he missed the Sorcerer. For the obvious reasons, of course. Stephen is his superior, his partner, and someone he had once had the pleasure of helping and teaching. 

And dare he say it, Stephen Strange is his friend.

***

Hope you liked it! 

#stephen strange #doctor strange #doctor stephen strange #benedict cabbagepatch #benefit cosmetics #benedict cumberbatch #wong #benedict wong #tony stark #iron man #robert downey jr #rdj #marvel #mcu #marvel fanfic #brotop fanfic #brotop #fanfic #stephen strange fanfic #doctor strange fanfic #doctor strange fanfiction #fanfiction #ask #avengers #the avengers #avengers endgame #endgame

[cfsculselfs]

LET ME LOVE THE LONELY OUT OF YOU

( continued from x. )

WHO: Peter Parker and Raven Roth WHEN: 1-2 Weeks Ago, 2:00pm EST WHAT: In which a lonely boy and a war torn girl decide to let each other in ( they are nowhere near perfect, but they are e n o u g h )  aka spideyrae gets their shit together

@spideyroo

PETER: 

to  say  the  least,  he’s   exhausted.  this  whole   BACK  AND  FORTH   redundancy  between  the  two  of  them  isn’t  beneficial  on  both  parties,  and  they  may  as  well  quit  before  matters  turn  worse.  there’s  no  valid  explanation  as  to  why  his   PERSISTENCE  won’t  shake,  perhaps  all   of  this  will  soon  be  worth   it.  there’s  going  to  be  a  day  where  the  awkward  tension  vanishes,  and  they  can  spend  hours  on  end  sharing  conversations  under  the  stars  again.

peter  wishes  he  can  do  something  to  help,   anything.  it’s  evident  that  she’s  holding  back  a  plethora  of  hidden  feelings,  as  if  there’s  a  pair  of  hands   SUFFOCATING   her  lips  to  suppress  her  true  emotions.  a  half  smile  appears  upon  the  compliment  ———–  that,  he’s  mentally  saving  forever,  and  the  boy  shakily  reaches  over.  carefully,  he  places  his  hand  over  hers,   PRAYING   that  it’ll  have  some  sort  of  positive  effect  in  this  situation.  his  thumb  lightly  runs  over  the  back  of  her  hand  in  repetitive  linear  motions,  with  him  not  leaving  sight  of  what’s  in  front.  

his  heart’s  never  beaten  so  fast.  he’s  never  been  so  out  of  breath,   anxious.    “  i’m  not  asking  for  a  lot,  ”  his  vision  strays  away  for  a  hot  second  from  glancing  down  at  the  carpet,  though  keeps  his  hands  put.  and  he’s  right,  he  isn’t,  he’s  a   SIMPLE  SOUL.  almost  anything  can  make  him  happy,  and  he’s  learned  to  appreciate  what’s  around  rather  than  having  the  constant  feeling  of  dissatisfaction.   “ i  just  want  things  to  go  back  to   NORMAL  between  us.  i  want  to  tell  you  about  my  day,  what  episode  of  star  wars  i  had  a  dream  about  during  my  nap,  i  want  to  tell  you  about  how  i  stole  captain  america’s  shield…  even  if  you’ve  heard  that   STUPID   story  five  hundred  times.  ”  a  laugh.  more  of  a  chuckle,  but  it  feels  good  to  lighten  up. 

  and  he  can  understand  where  she’s  coming  from,  if  anything,  he  can   relate.   he’s  been  in  her  shoes  before.  there  were  many  in  his  life  whom  he  felt  terrified  of,  not  because  of  them,  but  because  of  who   he  was.   INFERIOR.  they  deserved  the  world,  not  some  below  average  guy  who  fails  to  be  taken  seriously  in  any  situation.  up  until  now  with  his  alternate  image  as  the  friendly  neighborhood  spider-man,  peter  parker  still manages  to  drive  by  the  world  as  invisible.   nothing  special.  it’s  a  sad  reality  he  has  to  face,  but  he’s  learned  to  deal.

so  maybe  they  weren’t  so  different  after  all.

“ i  can’t  let  go  of  someone  who  means   THE  WORLD  to  me, ”  the  confession  rolls  out  of  his  tongue  with  pure  ease.  he’s  not  there  to  play  games,  only  to  tell  the  truth.  he  wishes  he  could  grip  her  hand  tighter  to  prove  his  seriousness,  though  he  doesn’t  want  to  push  things  further  than  what’s  already  on  the  table.  throat  dry  and  palms  sweaty,  he  continues  on.   “ and  i  know  your  scared  ———-   jesus,  i’m  terrified  too.  but  i’m  sick  and  tired  of  convincing  myself  that  i  don’t   DESERVE anyone  because  of  how  i  am.  i  can’t  feel  this  lonely  anymore.  not  when  i  know  that  you  make  that  go  away.  i  need  you  ————  we  need   EACH  OTHER  and  you  can’t  deny  that.  ”  taking  a  forceful  exhale,  guilt  begins  to  edge  from  his  previous  vent.  he  takes  a  moment  to  reset,  hoping  to  pick  up  where  it  was  left  off  with  no  hard  feelings  by  sliding  his  fingers  perfectly  within  the  spaces  between  her  fingers.  they  stop,  and  peter  gives  raven  a  look,  if  she’s  comfortable  enough  for  him  to continue  further.   “  c  —  can  i  ?? ”

RAVEN:

  He reaches out for her, and raven fights the urge to flinch. no one touches her, lest they face her fury ( koriand’r and dick are exceptions, people who have torn down her walls brick by brick until only pieces of clay and mortar remained. fools. her dearest friends. )

                She does not receive such affection, does not d e s e r v e the reverence of his touch, the way his thumb ghosts over the back of her hand. As if she were something delicate and holy instead of barbed wire and broken glass.

               “ You don’t know what you’re asking for. “ her voice is quiet, barely above a whisper. She needs him to see how bad this will turn out. She needs for him to willingly walk away before she can cause any more damage ( just because she needs him to do so doesn’t mean she wants him to ) she’s so weak for him, it’s horrible. it’s wonderful. “ It’s too DANGEROUS. All I would do is hurt you. “

                PRIDE.  she is the original sin, she cannot reveal anything that would make her vulnerable to the judgement of those around her. her past, trigon. the monks of azarath, how she brought genocide upon her people because she got too curious. It would be BEST for her to mention it, he would finally listen to REASON if she did. But despite everything, she couldn’t bear for him to finally see her for the monster she actually is. He looks at her with such affection, with such sweetness. To see those features morph into fear or detachment would destroy her.

              I can’t let go of someone who means the world to me. Her eyes S N A P to his: the words for a response don’t come, the emotions coursing through her veins unfamiliar. What was she even supposed to SAY to that ?? raven’s lips part, but whether or  its a gasp of shock or a quest for the air that is having such difficulty reaching her lungs at present is uncertain. perhaps it’s  the slightest bit of both.

                                          “You deserve the world.”

            “You deserve kindness and goodness and all things wonderful.”

                      “You deserve so much more than I could give you.”

              But raven doesn’t S A Y any of this, despite the words dancing on the tip of her tongue. She can’t bring herself to. Not because he doesn’t deserve to hear all of it, but because some force is tightening its grip on her lungs, pushing down her voice until it’s caged to the bottom of her stomach and no amount of effort can draw it out. He’s right, though. To an extent.

               Raven Roth has never NEEDED anyone in her life but god,                                       she WANTS him so much.

              His final question is hesitant, voice stuttering. her own heart SKIPS a beat. he’s trembling- or perhaps that’s her. she can’t tell who is feeling what, feelings filling the air of the room and merging into a single tidal wave, threatening to overtake them both. it’s overwhelming. Raven doesn’t answer- not with words, at least. She doesn’t trust her voice to work, doesn’t know what she even could say in such an instance. Instead, her fingers bend, pulling their palms together until they touch.

              He is sweating: if raven hadn’t been an empath, if she hadn’t already been able to feel his nervousness radiating through the air and mingling with hers. If she wasn’t just as frightened, she would have laughed.

            “I want you.” the words come out. It’s as if the dam has been broken, the words following swiftly, “ I want you more than I’ve wanted anyone else, But if you got hurt because I lost control, I would never forgive myself. ”

PETER:

                    peter    knows  she’s  being  genuine,  but  it  doesn’t  change  the  pain  he  feels  letting  those  words  engrave  his  mind  as  if  it’s  being  slowly  carved  into  his  skin.  she  claims  to  be   DANGEROUS   for  him,  it  stings  rather  terribly,  but  he  honestly  couldn’t  care  less.  in  fact,  the  rather  tenacious  boy  is   MORE  THAN  WILLING  to  take  his  chances  for  what  its  worth,  if  it  means  for  him  —–  for   them  to  be  happy  again.  he’s  gone  through  his  fair  share  of  trials  and  tribulations;  there’s  no  harm  in  the  risk.

                    “ i  know  you  won’t  mean  it  …   hurting me,  ”  brown  hues  glimmer  under  the  light,  expressing  pure  sincerity.  all  he  needs  to  do  is  convince  her  to  take  that  leap  of  faith  too.  if  anything,  he   HIMSELF   will  provide  a  sturdy  support  system  if  things  go  awry.  he’ll  be  more  than  HAPPY  to  catch  her  when  she  falls  helplessly  to  the  floor,  and  will  effortlessly  do  it  again  and  again  until  she’s  able  to   accept.  even  if  it  costs  him  his  own  stability.  

                    so  this  is  what  it  feels  like.  to  care  about  someone  at  a  level  where  in  hurts,  but  in  such  a   GOOD   way.  

                    one  could  say  he’s  a  little  selfish,  but  he’s  craving  for  more.  he’s  craving  for   her.   he  can’t  stop  staring  at  the  way  her  lips  move,  the  way  the  light  breeze  in  the  room  sweeps  strands  of  her  hair  in  a  perfect  manner.  there’s  no  need  for  him  to  get  ahead  of  himself  though,  so  his  mouth  stays  shut.  the  moment  is  savored,  allowing  for  the  two  to  sit  in  silence.  no   AIMLESS  BICKERING  back  and  forth,  only  these  lost  souls  practically  screaming  for  a  sense  of  direction  on  where  to  go  from  here.

                    a  beam  of  hope.  and  suddenly,  amidst  the   darkness,   peter  feels  it.  perhaps  it  was  the  way  their  palms  met,  or  the  way  their  fingers  begin  to  fully  interlock,  he   DOESN’T   feel  so  lost  anymore.  the  void  he  previously  suffered  in  his  chest  is  filled,  simply  by  these  small  yet  MEANINGFUL   gestures.  the  heat  begins  to  place  his  ears,  and  he  shyly  feigns  a  bright   smile,  almost  forgetting  that  she’s  experiencing  front  row  seats  of  a  sweat  show.  starring  eighteen-year-old  peter  parker  —–  also  known  as  nervous  wreck.   CORRECTION:  a  now   buoyant  nervous  wreck.

                   and  the  next  few  words  that  follow  send  him   over  the  moon.   she  feels  the  same  way,  only   TERRIFIED   of  the  consequences  alongside  it.  feelings   are  a  puzzling  concept,  though  from  what  he’s  learned  from  his  aunt  may’s  advice  on  the  topic,  they’re  never  going  to  get  anywhere  without  taking  action.  she’s  made  her  step,  and  now  he  needs  to  take  his.  

                 “ i  want  you  too,  ”  he  almost   laughs,   mainly  because  he  still  can’t  process  what’s  happening  between  them  as  a  part  of  their  reality.  he  feels  like  he’s  a  part  of  some  cheesy,  poorly  made  romance  movie,  and  this  was  the  part  where  they   DISCOVER  their  true  feelings  of  infatuation  towards  one  another.  the  part  that  is  always  sealed  with  some   prolonged  kiss,   and  they  live  happily  from  there.  if  only  it  wasn’t  so  complicated.

                   he  forgets  to  ask  permission  due  to  the  heat  of  the  moment.  slowly,  and  as   STEADILY   as  he  ever  could  with  his  trembling,  he  brings  his  free  hand  up  to  gently  cup  the  side  of  her  face.  “ we  gotta  stop  running  away  from  what’s  there,  ” it’s  almost  in  a  whisper,  though  he  makes  sure  she  can   EASILY  hear  by  closing  the  distance  between  their  faces.  “  we  can’t  be  scared,  okay  ?? i  —–   i  like  you,  and  even  if  i  don’t  know  where  the  hell  to  go  from  here,  it  doesn’t  change  the  fact  that  i  do,  raven.  if  we  have  to  take  things  slow,  we  can  do  without  a  problem.  i  just  want  for  there  to  be  an  US   again.  i  can’t  go  another  day  without  you.  i  really  can’t.  ”

RAVEN

                   “That doesn’t make it any better.” maybe she wants to cry ?? possibly laugh ?? she won’t do either, of course, but the range of emotions she’s experiencing at present is a roller coaster. he’s just so… there’s not even a word to describe peter parker: he doesn’t make ANY sense. he makes PERFECT sense. he’s the personification of confusion in that he’s not confusing in the slightest. he’s remarkably simple to understand, and in this world of heroes and monsters and clowns and fucking government-constructed robots, he’s an oasis, a calm in the storm.

                      his hand moves to her face, and raven finds her breath hitching, throat tightening as her mind attempts to figure out how on EARTH she’s supposed to be feeling right now. she does not read romance novels, she does not watch movies with romantic subplot aside from kori’s forced twilight marathons in their youth. what she’s supposed to say or do is lost in her, and it’s not FAIR to him. this entire situation is unfair to him, actually, and if she were a better person, raven would have rejected him and left.

                      but she’s horribly selfish, isn’t she.

                “I…” god, he deserves so much better than her shitty attempts at feeling like a NORMAL human being. but he wants her. that’s such a  c o n c e p t, another thing she’s not quite sure how to deal with. there is no catch, it’s just him. standing in front of her, his hand on her cheek. asking her to let him in, asking her to let him give her love. FUCK. her mouth opens again- she can’t keep it inside anymore, he needs to hear it. he deserves to, “ I don’t know where to go either. “ she confesses, looking down at their hands. the sight sends her heart fluttering into her throat, and it takes a beat before she can continue, “ But I want that too.” the words come out in a rush, as if they were the last bits of air from a balloon. are her hands shaking? they might be shaking( they are )

                     there’s a moment of silence: it’s good. she gets to take in the curl of his hair, how his eyes look when the sun shines through the window at 2pm. the sound of his breathing, the way he looks at her, how his hand feels pressed against her cheek. the urge to laugh bubbles up again- perhaps it’s the confusion, perhaps it’s disbelief at this situation, but she forces it down regardless.

                  “ I just…don’t.” a breath, “ I don’t know what taking it slow means.” her lip goes between her teeth, pressing until a sharp sting jolts her to continue, “ I would, though. I would…want to try. With you.” she fights the IMPULSE to apologize, face twisting in uncertainty and embarrassment. Her thumb slowly, softly runs across the back of his hand. she can FEEL the blood rushing in her veins- it’s dizzying. it’s a bit intoxicating, if she’s honest. he makes her feel as if she’s floating and falling at the same time.

                   There’s another beat, and she’s suddenly afraid she’s said the wrong thing. But the look on his f a c e. they are messy and young and confused, but the look on his face, the squeeze of their hands. it’s enough. it’s a beginning. 

#oh my god the end is so cheesy but here yall are *FIREWORKS IN THE BACKGROUND* #it only took like #roughly five months and six hiatuses between us <3 #( spider man )

[wizards-need-not-apply]

WNNA Speculates Part 2: Guildmaster’s Guide to Ravnica

Hello and welcome to the second iteration of my speculation into Ravnica! n this week, I’ll be going over the ten different guilds from Ravnica. The guilds are featured prominently on cardboard, and each bears something unique and flavorful. Each guild has their own agenda, their own claim to power, and a legion of loyal followers to help make those goals a reality.

Chapter 2: Guilds of Ravnica

Even after all that, we still need to get to know the Guild of Ravnica proper. As the most important part of Ravnican life, it’s big enough to get it’s own chapter just to get things right. To supplement, I will provide my own summary of the Guilds alongside some fun little tidbits because I’m a nerd.

In this chapter, they introduce something notable: Guild Spells. While we only have the ToC to go off of, there are a few things that we can speculate upon thanks to context clues. Based on what we have, I can conclude that there are not going to be many new spells listed in the Guild Spells list. Rather, the Guild Spells list is a list of PHB spells that would be very common for members of that Guild to cast. We know this because in the ToC, they single out two specific spells: Chaos Bolt and Encode Thoughts. Chaos Bolt is a spell from Xanthar’s Guide that is the ONLY Sorcerer exclusive spell in the entire game. Meanwhile, Encode Thoughts is a completely new spell, made specifically for this book. From these two spells, I think it is reasonable to assume that Guild Spells will not have many new spells in them, and is more of a roleplaying guide than anything else.

But aside from that tangent, every single guild has a guild specific Background and a bit describing what adventurers of that guild would be like.

Why the Azorious is the most powerful Guild: They make and control the laws of Ravnica, including the Guildpact that binds the peace of Ravnica, using the magic of bureaucracy to subdue upstarts.

Why the Azorious will not take over Ravnica: Pretty much every guild has a way to ignore the law (often in spectacular fashion), and they are too focused on stasis to bring about any change. As such, they react very badly to change (Evidenced by this card.)

Guild Spells: Counterspell, Hold Person, Geas

Guild Classes: Wizards, Fighters

Why the Boros is the most powerful Guild: They are a very proactive guild, taking action where others would prefer to sit back and mull over books.

Why the Boros will not take over Ravnica: Their one track mentality often leads to them getting confused and befuddled easily by those who know that they’re about to come knocking. (Evidenced by this card.)

Guild Spells: Branding Smite, Compelled Duel, Wall of Fire

Guild Classes: Paladins, Clerics

Why the Dimir is the most powerful Guild: They hold the power of secrets, and the biggest secret that they hold in their halls is so horrifying, all who learn it fade from existence.

Why the Dimir will not take over Ravnica: For all of their scheming, they don’t actually get a lot done. They are so wrapped up in secrets, that they forget to take actions other than hiding and erasing secrets. OR MAYBE THAT’S JUST WHAT THEY WANT YOU TO THINK.

Guild Spells: Feeblemind, Scrying, Detect Thoughts

Guild Classes: Wizards, Rogues

Why the Golgari is the most powerful Guild: Anyone who dies will be turned into a zombie, allowing their numbers to be ever constant and ever growing. They have also recently killed the leader of the Azorius with minimal effort, with plans to do that to every other Guildleader.

Why the Golgari will not take over Ravnica: They are blinded by a sense of pride, and in their lust for revenge, they have caught the attention of the Boros and pretty much every other guild (Evidenced by this card.)

Guild Spells: Raise Dead, Blight, Giant Insect

Guild Classes: Druids, Warlocks

Why the Gruul is the most powerful Guild: Chaotic and loose, it is hard to stamp out, just like nature itself. Even if you stomp one clan into dust, the others will rise up and push you into the dirt!

Why the Gruul will not take over Ravnica: They have zero structure, and even fewer ideas as to what they do after they accomplish their goal, which is near impossible due to all nine other guilds wanting to have a city to live in.

Guild Spells: Ensnaring Strike, Earthquake, Spike Growth

Guild Classes: Rangers, Barbarians

Why the Izzet is the most powerful Guild: Niv-Mizzet. We’re talking about a dragon who decided on a whim to kill all other sentient dragons on Ravnica “because he felt like it”. He also has access to the Firemind, a dragon founded form of the internet that helps to pool ideas and information among all league members, which has the side effect of making all connected to it into geniuses.

Why the Izzet will not take over Ravnica: Niv-Mizzet. It is stated in lore that Niv-Mizzet could probably take over Ravnica if he wanted to, but he really does not want to. He finds the prospect of running an entire city to be boring, and would rather experiment on his own.

Guild Spells: Fireball, Lightning Bolt, Chaos Bolt

Guild Classes: Sorcerers, Wizards/Artificers

Why the Orzhov is the most powerful Guild: They hold powers from beyond the grave, and anyone they can get their fingertips under becomes their plaything. They are also quite skilled in the art of killing masses of people like they were nothing.

Why the Orzhov will not take over Ravnica: They are way too lazy, and rely upon guilt to get their power. They are also trying to play the extreme long game in a game that ramps up dramatically and suddenly.

Guild Spells: Bane, Compulsion, Spirit Guardians

Guild Classes: Clerics, Wizards

Why the Rakdos is the most powerful Guild: Rakdos himself could level the entirety of Ravnica if the Cult stops slaughtering people. Also, the cult is really good at killing people, just fyi.

Why the Rakdos will not take over Ravnica: They are too busy catering to the whims of Rakdos to advance anything that isn’t the Slaughter Games. Also too chaotic to consider the future of Ravnica.

Guild Spells: Cloud of Daggers, Otto’s Irresistible Dance, Bestow Curse

Guild Classes: Bards, Barbarians

Why the Selesnya is the most powerful Guild: Attacking the Selesnya is like attacking a homogeneous tidal wave. All of them share the same ideals, and all of them are willing to do whatever it takes to enforce and protect those ideals.

Why the Selesnya will not take over Ravnica: Their hivemind allows for little to no independent thought, which means there are no new ideas that can spawn. There are also too worried about their own defenses to make an offensive effort.

Guild Spells: Wall of Thorns, Entangle, Bless, Awaken

Guild Classes: Druids, Rangers

Why the Simic is the most powerful Guild: They have the means and abilities to bend the nature of life itself, and they are constantly on the cusp of a discovery that can change life as we know it. If something big comes their way, they will adapt and make something even bigger!

Why the Simic will not take over Ravnica: You can’t really improve upon something without any subjects, and there are plenty of guilds waiting to take away their toys.

Guild Spells: Polymorph, Alter Self, Regenerate

Guild Classes: Druids, Wizards

Chapter 3: The Tenth District

As a way to promote Ravnica, WoTC introduced the concept of the Tenth District. Ravnica is divided into many different Districts, the Tenth of which has never been alluded to in the past. Since then, it has been used in all sorts of promotional material. Magic the Gathering Arena has a playboard dedicated to the Tenth District, and the details of the Tenth District are to be filled out in this chapter. The District exists near the center of the City, and may act as some sort of neutral ground, if the Arena board is to be trusted. The Tenth District has only been mentioned explicitly in one card to my knowledge: Tenth District Guard. Housing is cheap, citizens scurry about their lives, and it is a place of business and commerce. According to the ToC, the District is further divided into six precincts, which suggests some level of police control.

#speculation #DnD 5e #guildmaster's guide to ravnica