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alittlewhump · 3 years

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Unbidden - Act 1, chapter 4

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Content warnings: fantasy violence, death mention, fantasy religion

They had travelled for another half a day before reaching the remains of the little town. It had been thoroughly sacked, most of the buildings now just burned out husks. Blaise was staring down at the body of what had presumably been one of the inhabitants. Morgan could tell she was distressed, and she was also sending signals of anger. It was becoming apparent that anger was a standard underpinning of most of her other emotions. Her hands were balled into fists at her sides.

"He was just a kid."

Morgan didn't know how to respond. The boy had been prepubescent, the small size of his body accentuated by the large and ungainly prosthetic leg still partially attached under one knee. The forces of darkness did not discriminate, equitable in their ruthlessness. That would not be the correct thing to say right now. He ventured a soft "Yes," to which Blaise did not respond. He raised a hand, thinking to lay it on her shoulder in a gesture of sympathy he'd seen many times, but then let it fall back to his side. She would likely only take offense, not comfort, from that action. He didn't particularly like touching other people anyway, if it could be avoided.

Morgan squinted instead toward the ruined town, looking more with his mind than with his eyes. There were more like the boy, all adults but recently deceased, their bones partially scattered above the ground. It was most often undead that left their victims this way, torn asunder carelessly. They were slow enemies whose movements were easy to predict. Should be simple enough. Hopefully the scholar they sought had been fast enough to hide himself away or make an escape.

Morgan's skeletons turned in unison, raising their swords in challenge. He often relied on their perception to fill in the gaps where he wasn't paying attention. There was a yelp, and a small red demon scampered out from behind a ruined building. It didn't make it far. Before the skeletons had a chance to charge, Blaise had planted an arrow between its shoulders. Its dying cry echoed through the remnants of the town, prompting a rush of activity. It seemed a number of demons had settled in. The undead had simply been scavenging, then. That could complicate things.

Morgan urged his skeletons forward, taking a step back as he started on a clay golem. He'd managed to get the time down to about thirty seconds, but it was evident that wouldn't be fast enough for most combat situations. He would have to keep working at it.

Blaise was proving to be an extremely skilled archer. Her shots were both quick and accurate, devastating to the smaller demons. It wasn't just the imps, though; there was a group of larger demons as well, goatlike bipeds wielding wicked-looking glaives. They moved to flank the invading humans, but Morgan spotted the maneuver and commanded his minions to intercept the closest ones. Their awareness was reasonably comprehensive, but his own let him down. If the goatman behind him hadn't bleated as it raised its weapon to strike, it could easily have finished him with a single blow.

He twisted sideways, narrowly avoiding the strike. Drawing his sword was easier from the far hip after all. He plunged it blindly into the demon's middle before it had a chance to raise its weapon a second time. Accuracy wasn't paramount at the moment, just so long as he got the point far enough in and wrenched to the side with sufficient strength. He jumped back, avoiding the spray of viscera that followed his blade as the demon fell.

He should have been checking for other threats instead; if he had, he might have noticed the small one creeping up behind him, emboldened by the presence of the stronger demons. It swung its blade with a battle cry, slicing into the flesh of Morgan's thigh. He cried out in surprise and pain, lashing out with his shield to gain some distance. The demon was already backing off, its fit of courage fading. It was watching him so intently that it didn't notice the skeleton behind it. A single well-aimed thrust saw it fall with a gurgle.

Morgan pressed a hand to the cut on his leg. The blade hadn't severed anything crucial, but the pain would hamper his mobility and the wound was deep enough to warrant treatment. He ordered the skeleton closer as he felt around in the pouch on his belt, fingers seeking a familiar shape - there. He uncorked the small bottle with his teeth and downed its contents. The taste of the potion lingered on his tongue, but it was mildly sweet and herbaceous, not at all unpleasant. It would only be a few minutes before the injury was fully healed. It already felt a little better.

The few remaining demons had incapacitated the other skeleton but they were fleeing now, not that it was doing them much good in the face of Blaise's arrows. She was merciless and efficient. Morgan could see why Kashya had chosen her for the task. Something was amiss, though. He couldn't quite put his finger on it. He looked around again, and his eyes fell on one of the deceased civilians. That was it - the body showed signs of undead interference, but they had slain only demons. The two types of creatures often coexisted peacefully, so it wasn't likely that one group had driven out the other.

"That's the last of them," Blaise announced, lowering her bow. "Now let's hope we can find this guy quickly so we can leave. I don't like this place."

"It looked like there would be undead, so be - oh, look there-" Something was stirring, far enough away that Morgan couldn't make out exactly what it was, but the movement wasn't promising. He pointed with his sword, his minions already on their way to investigate. Blaise nocked another arrow and raised her bow.

An enormous zombie staggered toward them. Had it been... hiding? Or just somehow unaware of the skirmish? It was surprisingly fast for its size. It was also unexpectedly strong, Morgan realized as it shattered the skeleton's skull with a single powerful strike. Blaise was on the retreat, peppering it with arrows that didn't seem to be having much effect. The clay golem made it stumble with a blow to its side, but it struck out in retaliation with such force that the construct crumbled to pieces. Morgan weighed his options quickly. It was too fast for another golem. A new skeleton might be fast enough, but it would only be able to serve as a momentary distraction. With his injured leg he wouldn't even be able to outrun this one if he fled, never mind what that might mean for Blaise. He had to find a way to separate the head from the body, or destroy the brain. Not ideal, given his limited physical capacity, but then again neither was dying.

Blaise called out, "Some support would be nice!" Yes, it - oh, she meant from him. The zombie was focused on her as the only aggressor. He did have the weaponry better suited to dispatch it, if only he could reach its head. He struck the hilt of his sword against his buckler and shouted, hoping the noise would get its attention. It did not. If it was going to ignore him, maybe he could use that to his advantage.

Morgan darted in, intending to strike at the zombie's knees. Joints were always vulnerable, good targets for incapacitating an enemy. He was too slow - it finally turned toward him with a fierce swing of its arm. He managed to get his shield up in time, but the blow still lifted him off his feet. The uneven terrain and his injury made for a poor landing but an idea sparked as he stumbled, falling into a crouch with one hand braced on the ground.

He sent a tendril of magic shooting forth through the soil, just a small one for the sake of speed. If this didn't work, he might not have the time for a second try. The earth in front of the zombie rose up and curled back to cover its feet. It was not coordinated enough to avoid the crude trap. Morgan picked himself up as the undead fell to its knees, finally bringing its weak point within range. He quickly positioned the tip of his sword at the base of its skull and gave it a hard thrust, pushing with the force of both hands. There was a snap as the spine gave way, and the body collapsed.

That had felt a little too close for comfort. Morgan summoned another skeleton and sent it to scout for any more undead. Another surprise like that would be disastrous. If he kept a steady trickle of magic flowing between himself and the skeleton, he would be able to tell immediately if it had been damaged or destroyed.

"All right, now let's look for your man Deckard. Carefully. There had better not be any more of these big fuckers lurking around." Blaise nudged the body gingerly with her foot.

They moved through the town warily at first, growing more relaxed as it became apparent that they had fully cleared out its new inhabitants. A few of the buildings had cellars dug out beneath them, but they had all been empty. It was starting to look like there had been no survivors at all when Blaise spotted something.

"Wait, is that him?"

Morgan followed her gaze to a crudely constructed cage leaning up against a building. He had assumed the prone figure inside it, half hidden by rags, had been another body. But when he reached out, first with his mind alone and then with an extended arm to better direct the magic, there was no response - no bones he could use, unlike the rest of the unfortunate townsfolk.

"That one's not dead," he said, moving in closer. The pale figure was unconscious, yes, but still living. It looked like it might be an old man.

"How do you - ugh, I don't want to know, never mind." Blaise made it to him first, reaching through the bars of the cage to check for a pulse at the old man's throat. She must have found one, since her next move was to shake his shoulder gently.

He startled awake, eyes wide. "Back! Back, foul demons!" he cried out.

"Whoa, hey there, it's okay. Don't worry, my name is Blaise and I'm here to help you. The demons are gone. Are you all right? You hurt at all?" Her voice was reassuring, soothing. Her features had softened into an expression of genuine concern.

"You... oh, thank heavens! It's so good to see a friendly face. No, my dear, I'm a little worse for the wear but I'm not injured. I don't suppose you might have some water to share, would you? I'm absolutely parched."

Morgan had reached the cage by that time, and passed his waterskin through the bars. Blaise moved to examine the lock on the cage, giving it a very brief examination before fishing out two slender metal tools from her pack. "I'll have you out of there in no time," she reassured him as she began working at the lock.

The scouting skeleton hadn't encountered anything of note, but the earlier surprise was still troubling Morgan. He decided to raise another golem to join the perimeter guard, just to be on the safer side. To his surprise, the old man brightened as the shape began to take form.

"Ah, geomancy! It's been a rather long time since I've seen that particular school of magic. And so sombre, too - would I be right in guessing you to be followers of Rathma?" The old man pulled himself upright, leaning on the cage bars for support as the lock cracked open in Blaise's hands.

"Just me."

"Just him."

Blaise seemed surprised by their response in unison, but it didn't appear to faze the other man at all. "Well," he said, "whatever your origins, I'm grateful for the rescue. My name is Deckard Cain." That was excellent news. A stroke of luck that the sole survivor was the man they had been looking for. He kept talking as he stepped out of the cage. "When the demons descended, I was sure I was not long for this world. I can't imagine what possessed them to lock me up in there, but it certainly saved me from sharing a fate with everyone else here." He looked sadly at one of the human bodies, a woman who appeared to have died in the street, reaching toward the door of a house. "I only wish there was something I could have done to prevent this tragedy. These were good people. They didn't deserve this."

"I could give them their final rites," Morgan suggested. Nothing could undo what had happened, but at least the dead could be laid to rest properly. It might give some measure of comfort to the old man as well. All things considered, it felt like an acceptable delay.

Cain laid a hand on Morgan's shoulder. He flinched only slightly at the unexpected contact. "Thank you, friend. It is kind of you to offer, and I can think of no one better than a priest of Rathma to lay these people to rest."

Blaise coughed. "Are you sure about that? You... you know what they do with skeletons, right?"

"My dear, I assure you there are none more suited to care for the dead. I visited a temple of Rathma once for several months in my younger days, far to the southeast..."

Morgan half listened as he stowed his shield. It was a simple enough line to draw, though it seemed unlikely that Blaise would be interested in the particulars: bodies that had been consecrated, no matter the particulars of the faith that informed the process, felt different than ones that had not received that treatment. They were easy to sense and avoid, and besides that, they were considerably harder to raise. Powerful practitioners were capable of such feats, but despite their reputation, priests of their Order gave the dead every courtesy they would afford the living. It wasn't uncommon to meet resistance even in the dead that had passed on unremarked; in these cases, a necromancer could either leave the spirit be or pass it through the veil as they deemed appropriate. Morgan preferred the option of assisting with the passing on, though he hadn't ever personally had the opportunity. It felt like it would be better than just leaving them to linger.

The first stages of preparation for this particular ceremony didn't require much concentration, just some physical effort to collect and lay out the deceased. Including the boy from the outskirts of the town, there were six bodies to inter. There was a good spot near the central part of the town, likely once a market of some sort. It seemed unlikely that anyone would be rushing to rebuild the town any time soon, he reasoned.

"Excuse me, young man." Morgan stopped to look at Cain, who was wearing an apologetic smile. "I hate to be a bother, but..." He gestured toward the remains of the enormous zombie. "This gentleman is... or was, rather... Griswold, the town blacksmith. Stone deaf but a heart of gold in him. He did great things, in life. Is there any way you could include him as well?"

"Yes, of course." Morgan considered the body for a moment before calling his golem back over from where it had been patrolling the area. Even with its help, it was difficult to maneuver the corpse over to the others. But they managed eventually, making him the seventh in the line. Cain chattered on to Blaise the entire time, but clearly he was also paying some attention to Morgan.

"That's everyone," he confirmed before Morgan had even opened his mouth to ask. "It saddens me to see this lively town reduced to so little. Rest well, my friends."

That was a recognizable cue. Morgan began by consecrating the zombie, drawing a small phial of oil from his chest pocket and anointing its head and hands. The oil glowed faintly as he said a brief incantation, an ancient prayer. The first step completed, he switched to a different oil and drew a simple sigil on the forehead of each of the deceased. This anointment was to help guide the spirits up to Anu. As he recited the liturgy, he was surprised to hear Cain's voice joining his own during the repeated segments. He filed that away to consider later. Right now he needed to concentrate.

Seven was a lot of bodies to inter, but if he let the constructs fall and paced himself he could probably manage. He knelt by Griswold and touched the earth. Carefully, slowly, it parted beneath the giant of a man. Once the body was several feet deep, the dirt filled in on top of him, leaving a small mound on the surface. The effort left him slightly winded. It had been a good idea to start with the largest. The next two were easier, but the cumulative strain was growing faster than he'd anticipated. Sweat was beginning to bead on his forehead and he'd lost his breath again. Better to pause now than to have to stop in the middle of an interment, he decided.

He took a small bottle from his belt, uncorked it and tossed back the bitter bluish liquid in one motion, kneeling again before the dizziness set in. The familiar buzz of magical energy crackled through him. It itched under his skin. He would have preferred to rest instead of taking the potion, but interrupting the ceremony was not an option. The whole point was to respectfully lay them to rest; stopping for a break would have felt disrespectful. He had to press on.

Despite his measured approach, Morgan was trembling with exhaustion by the time the last body was safely entombed. Seven had turned out to be too many. The potion had helped, but its borrowed energy left as suddenly as it came, and the body shakes it left in its wake were uncomfortable. He fell into a cross-legged position, elbows braced on his knees, head hanging as his chest heaved. Meditation wasn't going to cut it after this. He was going to need real sleep. Still, it was satisfying to feel he'd done a good job of the burial ceremony. He was also grateful that Blaise had elected to keep watch during the proceedings. He'd been forced to abandon his minions to save energy. Had he been alone, safety would have been a serious concern.

Blaise cleared her throat. "Not to kill the moment or anything, but we need to start going before it gets dark. It's a long way back to the Sisterhood."

"Perhaps I can help with that," Cain said. Morgan raised his head to see him produce a small scroll from the pockets of his robe. "This is a scroll of town portal. Have you ever used one before?" Blaise shook her head. "Oh, it's very simple. You just need to picture a place in your head as you read it, and it will open a portal to that place. It only works for human settlements, and the place has to be within a certain distance. But if your description is accurate, as I'm sure it is, the Sisterhood of the Sightless Eye should meet those requirements." He held the scroll out for Blaise to take. "I must admit I've never visited, so I can't use this to get to our destination."

Blaise took the scroll and opened it, peering at its contents. Nothing happened. She turned it sideways, then upside down. No portal materialized. She looked up at Cain. "Am I missing something here? I thought this was supposed to be easy."

He frowned. "It should be. Let me look - no, no, the scroll is in order. It should work for you if you're following the instructions. Unless - well, there are a few reasons it might not be working. It could be a matter of lineage, for instance. Were your parents both human?"

Blaise stared at him as though he'd just grown another head. "What else would they be?"

"I've used those scrolls before," Morgan said, rising unsteadily to his feet. He had used the portals fairly regularly, running errands during his training. A throbbing ache was building behind his eyes, and he wanted very much to rest. He was seriously considering curling up in one of the ruined buildings at this point. But that wouldn't take the other people into consideration. Assuming the portal scroll worked, it would be the best course of action to take.

Blaise held it at arm's length. "If you can make it work, go ahead. But if not, we start walking."

Morgan took the scroll, scanning the familiar runes. It wasn't reading, exactly, but they started to glow all the same. He thought about the rogue encampment, focusing on the spot just outside the gates where he'd first waited for Blaise. A shimmering blue circle materialized in front of him, the image of the camp faintly distinguishable in its centre. It stretched until it was big enough to walk through. No problem with the scroll, then.

"Magnificent!" Cain clasped his hands together. "It will be wonderful to be amongst people again. Please, after you."

Morgan would have preferred not to be the first one out of the portal, but Blaise wasn't moving to enter and he didn't have the energy to try to sway her. He stepped into the portal. It was like walking down a short hallway, the distance to the destination collapsed into a few steps. As he stepped out of the portal, he found a sword pointed at his face. His hands came up automatically in a gesture of surrender. Of course the rogues would be suspicious if they weren't accustomed to using this type of magic. That was precisely why he hadn't wanted to lead.

"Oh, it's you." Kashya lowered her sword. "Where's Blaise? Did you find Deckard Cain?"

"They are following," he said, letting his hands fall as he stepped to the side of the portal. He hoped they were following. He was too tired to explain if they weren't.

Sure enough, Cain emerged a few seconds later, peering around. "So this is the Sisterhood of the Sightless Eye! I've heard much about you. I wonder if you would indulge an old man's curiosity. I have some questions for you..." He had honed in on Akara without hesitation, taking her by the arm. She appeared surprisingly amenable; something about him seemed to put people at ease.

Blaise came through shortly after, straightening when she spotted Kashya. "Ma'am."

"Give me a full report."

The commander turned on her heel, going back into the encampment, and Blaise followed her. Good. That meant nobody wanted to talk to Morgan, and he could get some rest. He tore the scroll in half, disrupting the magic holding the portal open. Only living humans could use these portals, but it still felt safer to close it behind him. Unlike the others, he did not enter the encampment. Now was not the time to solicit an invitation. He'd noted a large, sturdy willow tree outside the northern corner of the rogues' camp. He dragged his weary body over to it, nestled in against its trunk, and promptly lost consciousness.

#my writing #story: unbidden #fantasy violence tw #death mention tw #fantasy religion tw

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rosaliestark01 · 4 years

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Like Father, Like Daughter

Tony Stark x Daughter!Reader & Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Requested by @ritiizzxxx : Hey I have a request can u do it where reader is Tony Stark's daughter and he has kept her a secret n when she was 15 and graduated from MIT and started creating her own tech then Tony decided to let the world know about her daughter. and also can u add some scenes where she's being sassy and sarcastic my father with all the Avengers.

Warnings: Swearing (maybe more than usual), fluff (kinda), and a bit of violence.

A/N: I’m not 100% sure if this was what you wanted, but I really hope you like it. As usual, I don’t own any GIFs and credit for the GIFs go to owner.

“Tony Stark, is it true that you have a daughter?”

“Is it Y/N?”

“Is Y/N Vulpine?”

Tony should have known that sending you to college at a young age would have major repercussions. You were already an intern at Stark Industries and after graduating at the top of your class at MIT at only fifteen year years old, he should have know that people would start to suspect something.

You majored in Physics and Engineering, just like him, but you also had a Masters degree in Business and Finance. Obviously, people would make the connections between you and him, but he never expected people to make the connection between you being Vulpine.

“What are you working on?” You looked up from your work station to see your dad walking up to you.

“Just something that analyzes an opponents fighting style and predicts their next moves and what their weaknesses are,” you say. You knew that you dad had created something similar, but not to exactly like this.

This automatically analyzes the way an opponent fights and tells you the best way to beat them in any area of combat. It would alert you if their form was ever off and would tell you the best way to use their weaknesses to your advantage.

Yep, you were definitely his daughter.

“I’m planning on installing it into mine and Peter’s suits so that we don’t repeat what happened in Symkaria.”

“What happened in Symkaria?” You freeze, suddenly realizing what you let slip. Your dad wasn’t supposed to know about Symkaria. You and Peter had agreed not to tell anyone about it because they’d probably never send you on a mission to a foreign country again.

“It was a disaster and you don’t want to know.” Your dad seemed to accept that before clearing his throat.

“So, listen. I am so proud of everything you’ve achieved,” he says. “You’re tough, smart, amazing, and-”

“What did you do?” You eyed him suspiciously. He tended to go overboard on compliments whenever he wanted something or did something he wasn’t supposed to.

“What? Nothing. I was just going to ask how you felt about the public finding out who you really are.”

You thought about it for a second. You were ready to let the world know that you were Y/N Stark, but at the same time, it could cause major problems. Just like how Peter’s made up name is Spider-Man, your is Vulpine. Vulpine was meant to be mysterious, mischievous, and somebody nobody knew anything about.

It made thing a lot easier when nobody knew who Vulpine was. You didn’t have to worry about people coming after you or your friends. Not that you couldn’t handle it, but the last time somebody found out who you were was a disaster.

“I’m not really sure how I feel about it,” You say thoughtfully. “I’m nervous that if they find out I’m your daughter that they might find out about me being Vulpine.”

“I know.” You knew that he understood where you were coming from. He had stopped trusting telling people that you were his daughter after someone had tried to use you against him. “I’m nervous about that too.”

“Y/N, the download is complete,” you AI says in a gravelly voice.

“What was that?” Your dad asks. “Did you make your own AI?”

“Yes, I did and his name is Cas,” you giggle, knowing that that your dad would know what you were talking about. Modeled the voice exactly like it sounded on TV.

“Like that guy on TV?”

“Yep.” You become serious again, because you needed to turn the topic back to the serious conversation you were having with your dad. “Anyway, before to tell the world that I’m your daughter, we need to figure out how to keep my Avenger identity a secret. People can’t know that Vulpine and I are the same person.”

Your dad had ended up setting up a meeting will all of the available Avengers. That included Clint, Natasha, Steve, Bucky, Sam, and Peter.

“We could say that Vulpine went on a vacation?” Clint suggests. He earns a few looks from people around the table for suggesting something so out of character for Vulpine to do.

“Why would Vulpine go on a vacation?” Peter speaks up. Out of everyone in the room, Peter knew the most about you and Vulpine. You were partners after all. Besides, Vulpine definitely didn’t seem like the vacation type.

“I don’t know?”Clint said as he looked at you nervously. “Even mischievous superheros need breaks.”

“Right, because that wouldn’t be suspicious at all,” you say. Around the table you see Nat, Steve, Sam, and Bucky nodding their heads in agreement with you. Under the table, Peter gently squeezes your hand.

“I thought it was a good idea,” Clint pouts.

“What about a look alike?” Peter asks. “While Mr.Stark introduces you as his daughter, we could have a look alike do something on the other side of the city.”

“That could work if we find someone who looks like me”, you say, nodding your head thoughtfully. “Wait a second!”

“What?”

“Peter, remember when we went to that Fleetwood Mac concert in California?” You ask. Peter smiles as he remembers the time the two of you spent in California. It was good timing because there weren’t any looming threats, Peter’s school was on break, and crime in New York had been pretty nonexistent while you were gone.

Excuse me, but when was this?” your dad asked. You really need to be better at keeping these things from your dad.

“Yeah, and we made clones of ourselves so that nobody would notice we were gone for a whole week!” Peter, ignoring your dad, says excitedly. You couldn’t blame him. You and Peter had a really great week.

“You made clones of yourselves?” Steve finally pipes up.

“They’re more like interactive holograms that we downloaded our daily routine and personalities into.”

“Definitely her father’s daughter.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you smile.

“Normally, I would ground both of you for running off for a week” Your dad starts. “but I’m impressed so I’ll let it slide.”

“Peter and I will probably have to go digging through my lab to find them first, but I’m sure we could get them ready.” You look at Peter, making sure he was okay with that.

“Great. You two do that. I’ll go schedule a press meeting.” The meeting pretty much broke up the second your dad left the room. You and Peter walked hand in hand to your lab that was right across from your room. You usually kept it pretty neat and tidy... except for the storage room.

It took about twenty minutes longer than you expected and Peter had to do most of the heavy lifting, not that you minded.

“I just realized how useful these could be,” you say as you and Peter begin to set up the ones modeled after yourselves. “Just think of all the prank we could pull everyone.”

“They could also be useful on missions. Like decoys,” Peter tells you. You may have graduated college when you were fifteen, but sometimes you wondered who the actual genius in this relationship was.

“Pete, your a genius!”

“Says the girl who graduated from MIT when she was fifteen,” Peter blushes.

“Says the boy who is way smarter than he let’s on,” you say back to him. Sometimes it was like he didn’t know how smart he really was. You knew for a fact that he is probably smarter than all of his teachers combined.

“Enough flirting! Just find your freaking clones!” Sam yells as he walks past your room.

“After what happened in Symkaria, I can flirt with whoever I want!” You yell back. Yeah, Symkaria ended up being a disaster, but at least it was the push you and Peter needed to confess your feelings for one another.

“But just me, right?” Peter asks.

“Just you.” You plant a soft kiss on his cheek before the two of you get back to work.

The next morning, you and Peter sent your “clones” to Brooklyn while you and Peter went to the press conference that your dad had set up. You couldn’t believe how crazy these reporters were asking. It was a lot of one talking right over the other so you couldn’t understand a single thing any of them were saying. Finally, your dad had somehow managed to shut them all up

“You all ask if Y/N is my daughter, and it’s easy to see why.” Your dad gets started on the speech that Pepper had made for him, but then he puts the cards down, planning to talk for himself. “She is gifted, talented, probably smarter than me, and an overall amazing person. She has created tech that I have never even thought of and she’s been an intern at Stark Industries since she was only eight years only. Y/N Stark is my daughter.”

“Is Y/N Vulpine?” a blonde reporter asks. That causes the other reporters to stark buzzing out questions too before your dad quiets them again.

“Y/N is not-” Before he could finish, you spot an all too familiar looking face. Freaking Symkaria.

“Fucking shit!” You say, letting your frustration out before the Symkarian guard pulls out a sword and approached you and your dad with it. Peter tries to stand protectively in front of you (you’re pretty sure he just wants to get back at the guard for what he did) but you push Peter away. He doesn’t have his web shooters or his suit.

Luckily, you were trained by both Nat and Bucky. Each time the guard swung the sword at you, you were able to dodge it with ease. Working around the guard as he kept swinging at you, you sneakily removed his belt. After you had it, you wrapped it around his hand that he held the sword with, effectively causing him to drop his weapon.

“You will never get away with what you did.” The guard hisses out at you with his German-like accent. “Prince Adonis will have his revenge.”

“Seriously?”You dad asks looking amused. “Whatever happened to ‘the world must never know’”

“That was before I was attacked,” you shrugged. There was no way in hell that people would believe that you and Vulpine were two separate people now. You literally just disarmed a Symkarian guard on live TV. “Would you like to do the honors?” you ask you dad, giving him permission to tell the world.

“The truth is...” he begins but you decided, for dramatic effect, to interrupt him.

“I am Vulpine.”

A/N: Again, I’m still not sure if this was what you wanted, @ritiizzxxx , but I hope you still like it.

#tony stark x daughter!reader #tony stark x daughter reader #tony stark x platonic!reader #avengers #avengers x reader #avengers reader insert #peter parker x avenger!reader #the avengers #vulpine #peter parker #peter parker x reader #tom holland peter parker #peter parker x reader insert #peter parker x stark!reader

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queenofthefullmoon · 4 years

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An exhaustive list of Dark Souls 3 bosses I would or would not date

Iudex/Champion Gundyr

We’re starting off this list with a strong yes. Our boy Gundyr has had a hard, difficult life, and he deserves some good company. He’s tall, strong, and I trust him to protect us as we set a lovely camp site outside of the fire link shrine.

Vordt of the Boreal Valley

Vordt is big and he is feral which are truly the only two qualities I look for in a man. Together we’d be unstoppable. I mean, think about how easy it would be to go around with him: just climb on his back and let the rodeo begin, baby. This argument alone should be enough to convince you that Vordt is a suitable boyfriend, but here’s another one: if you get too hot in the summer, worry fucking not for your gigantic man can hold his equally gigantic hammer over you and cover you with snow like an italian man covering his pasta with parmesan.

Cursed Rotted Greatwood

Now while I’m certain it would be a perfect partner for some people, the Cursed Rotted Greatwood isn’t for me. For one, I am not fan of curses, or rot, or weird sticky balls, or strange orange acid, or pale white and slightly viscous hands bursting through a living tree. Secondly, I feel like the crowd of Hollows who group up around the tree would be a big impediment to our intimacy, and I’m not ready to be the mother of 20 Hollows.

Crystal Sage

No offense but you’d be an idiot for not wanting to date the Crystal Sage. All wrapped up in one package, you get a super competent sorcerer bf, who wears the coolest hat in the galaxy and an equally cool cape, and who overall looks like the upgraded version of a plague doctor. In addition to that he also has a pretty rapier so you can both engage in some sparring (which we all know is the most romantic couple activity).

Deacons of the Deep

Probably one of the worst options on the list, they’re all crusty, rotting men moaning around a biggass coffin. There are many technical questions. If I dated a deacon, would I have to date all of them? Can we go out on dates or are they obligated to stay next to the coffin at all times? Can I even date them at all?? Not that I would, because I have standards. The only pro to entering this relationship(s?) would be that I’d probably get one of their robes for free, but the cons are so numerous that I’d rather buy it myself.

Abyss Watchers

Let’s be real and honest even if it hurts. Would I date an Abyss Watcher? Yes. Maybe I’d even date two. However, would an Abyss Watcher date me? No, because they’re all in love with Artorias, and I can’t blame them for that.

Old Demon King

At first I considered dating the Old Demon King like a Russian Instagram model dates an old, rich American man: with a great deal of fake love but above all great patience in order to be the only person on the will. But then I thought about it more, and what does the Old Demon King have to offer, really? A big firework show that will leave him exhausted like the old creature he is, and maybe some pyromancies. Truly, it is not worth it, especially since I’d have to take residence where he lives, in a big old room filled with the corpses of his kin.

High Lord Wolnir

I’ve got nothing against Wolnir personally, but I have no interest in skeletons, nor in his army of skeleton children. As stated above I’m not ready to be a mother. I feel like if we got in an argument and he sighed, he would poison me with his awful breath and I would die a horrible death. Also, living on the brink of the Abyss doesn’t appeal to me that much. However I would like Wolnir to be a good friend I can talk jewelry with because let’s be honest, the man (skeleton?) is blinged the fuck out even in death and I respect that.

Yhorm the Giant

Yes, I would date Yhorm. He was nothing but a sweet, misunderstood giant who always tried to get people to trust him and he convinced me. I would put my life in his big hands. Think of the possibilities. Just like with Vordt he could carry you everywhere but in a less reckless way if you prefer proper manners. You’d never have to worry about not seeing anything at a concert. Also, may I add that waiting for you to show up while sitting on his biggass throne is an absolute power move? Yhorm is a Lord of Cinder, but above all, a Lord of this heart.

Pontiff Sulyvahn

Would I date him because of his appealing aesthetic? Yes. Would I date him for anything else? No. Sulyvahn is absolutely terrifying, completely unhinged in the most frightening way, which is that he doesn’t look bat shit crazy. I could be thinking that everything is going well in our relationship then suddenly he’d lock me in a dungeon then would feed me to his weird friend because I put a fork in the knife drawer. He could pretend to propose and give me a weird fucked up ring with his eye in it and the next thing I know I’d be running in a field on all fours. I don’t trust like that.

Aldritch, Devourer of Gods

I’m so sad about Aldritch because literally everything about him is completely unappealing, unacceptable, unnatural, unholy, abhorrent, but he has the delicate and beautiful face of Gwyndolin. While our lovely Gwyndolin looks gorgeous as ever it doesn’t make up for the fact that Aldritch devoured people and probably wouldn’t find love to be a good reason to not eat his partner. The only reason I can find to have a friendship (not even a romantic relationship) with him is if you really like experimenting with cooking and you really, really need someone to taste your inventions.

Dancer of the Boreal Valley

I feel attraction, which means that just like any other being who feels attraction, I would date the Dancer. She is beautiful, graceful, a bit feral, and would not hesitate to put a flaming knife to my throat, which is the description of my dream woman. Imagine walking the streets with her, trying to hold her hand while it dangles 3 feet above you and she insists on holding her sword, actually, so she might slay anyone who tries to approach you, which she communicates through icy breaths and murmurs. The date of a lifetime.

Oceiros, the Consumed King

Another awful choice on this list, Oceiros is RABID and also, as far as we know, still a married man. You really want to date a man that hasn’t even gone through his divorce but already looks like this? Me neither. I’m already not big on dragon fucking but the fact that he’s all viscous and has weird growths all over him is not helping. Also, he has children, and we know how I feel about that — although, given how he treats them, he probably won’t have kids very soon (too far?).

Ancient Wyvern

So I’ve stated that I’m not very big on dragon fucking. With that said, do I think the wyvern is sexy and beautiful? Absolutely so. You’re probably like « Blue you’re sending mixed signals, are you gonna date the lizard or not? » and to that I say, date? Perhaps not. I would however like to form a lifelong bond with this wonderful force of nature and fight by its side, live a long and fulfilling life travelling along with it, only to die at the same time atop the tallest mountain in the world, where our skeletons will be discovers hundreds of years in the future by brave explorers, who will confirm that the legendary songs that were written about us were in fact not just a myth.

Nameless King

You’ve just read what I said about the wyvern. I feel like the Nameless King really understands me and would respect me for that. We could bond over our love of dragons and other flying scaly beasts and perhaps share some chaste kisses while soaring the sky on our companions. It’s nice to date someone who loves pets as much as you. I feel like he would be a fun guy to hang around in general, maybe he’d let you braid his hair or try on his crown. He can arrange personalized fireworks shows for you with his lightning powers. I don’t think you’d ever be bored around him.

Dragonslayer Armor

Dating an empty suit of armor has never bothered me (see: ds2 Ruin Sentinels), however I have beef with the dragonslayer armor. Is it a beautiful armor? Perhaps a bit worn off, but the reply remains affirmative. However, it is controlled by Pilgrim Butterflies, which basically means I’m dating one to multiple of these things in the shape of an armor, and I’ve gotta confess that I’m not down for that.

Lorian Older Prince and Lothric Younger Prince

Here comes the delicate moment where we have to make a choice without offending anyone. I personally, speaking for myself, in my own opinion, would rather date Lorian. Reason: he is big, strong, and a bit rabid, which I’ve made very clear is my type. I don’t dislike Lothric, but I feel like we’d be better off as best friends who have a really snarky group chat where we shit talk the entire kingdom. That’s pretty good because if I even just slightly disliked Lothric I’m pretty sure Lorian would sense it and would not hesitate to murder me on sight.

Champion’s Gravetender and Champion Greatwolf

Well the full name is just a formality here, I’m not completely insane so I don’t want to date this rabid wolf. I feel like the Champion’s Gravetender is just a normal dude who’s a bit in over his head and it’s not his fault but he just seems a bit boring compared to all my other options. Instead of a date I think he’d be more of an awkward flirt I had when I was bored and then I came to my senses but didn’t know how to disengage, but in the end it worked out because he was more interested in his work anyway.

Sister Friede and Father Ariandel

Again a choice has to be made and I will have to be predictable and say I’d date Elfriede. Just like Dancer she’s what the woman of my dreams is made of. She’s graceful and could easily take my life and I think it’s awfully sexy of her to be like that. I think I’d be accepted into the family pretty easily, which is important since Father Ariandel cares about Friede so much. I’d go visit him sometimes, play chess with him, bring him his flail, normal interactions with your girlfriend’s dad.

Soul of Cinder

I’m gonna be a tiny bit freaky here and say I’d date the Soul of Cinder. Dating it is just like opening a Kinder Surprise egg, you never know what you’re gonna get (sorry Americans for excluding you here). That makes life exciting and doesn’t let routine stall your relationship. Every day you can wake up with the question « What weapon will my darling walk around with today? The flaming sword, or the sorcery staff? » and be surprised by the answer. Truly ideal, but I understand it’s not for the faint of heart.

Demon Prince

I’m gonna go with a maaaaaaybeeeee? leaning towards no. I mean yes, the Demon Prince is a weird fleshy flaming demon, and that may be a bit gross, but I’ve gotta admit I admire his style, the drama of it all. The care he puts into his entrance, the attitude in his moves. If we don’t date I’d at least want to be friends so he can teach me his ways.

Darkeater Midir

I have very intense and contradictory feelings towards Midir. In one hand, holy shit, absolutely epic dragon, the spirit of companionship is growing in me. On the other hand, this beast is RABID and pretending I could tame him is foolish, and pretentious. I guess in the end the answer remains that I don’t date dragons, I just want to adopt them as my extremely exotic pets.

Halflight, Spear of the Church

Yeah I’d date Halflight, I know it’s the easy answer but look at him. I mean shit he’s walking around like a little thotty with his shirt open and you mean to tell me I’m not supposed to wanna date him because he looks pretty much like a regular dude? My boy Halflight WANTS me to date him or else he would not show up with his tiddies out to a sword fight, which as an activity already has enough erotic implications on its own.

Slave Knight Gael

I’m gonna say it unashamedly and I’ll say it again: I would date Gael. He’s been nothing but helpful and when he tries to attack you it’s to help his little lady that he’s adopted as his niece. We love a chaotic parental figure. Maybe he’s a tad bit old and dirty but there’s nothing a good bath can’t fix and I’m sure he’d appreciate having someone taking care of him for once. Again, he’s got that slightly unhinged quality to him that makes him delightful. When I walk around with my partner I want us to instill both fear and fascination in people which we would be able to accomplish perfectly well.

Dark Souls 1: Remastered date list // Dark Souls 2: Scholar of the First Sin date list

709 notes · View notes

follow-your-fire · 3 years

Text

In your tender hands

Rating: Explicit/NC-17

Pairing: Merlin/Arthur (Merlin)

Written for bottom Arthur fest 2020

@bottom-arthur

“You need to get that stick out of your ass. And you need to relax.”

Arthur bristles a little at the choice of words but holds himself back. “It’s a massage, not a holiday. How is that gonna relieve my stress?”

Freya gives him an incredulous look. “You’re an idiot. Have you never had a massage before?” she asks, and it’s obvious that the question is mostly rhetorical. Which is probably the main reason why her eyes grow twice their size at the lack of response. “Oh my God, Arthur! Seriously?!”

“You did what?” Arthur nearly spits out his coffee, glaring daggers at his assistant.

Freya only rolls her eyes at the dramatic response. “You heard me. I booked you in for one hour when you take your break.”

“You’ve got to be joking.” He rubs at his eyes in frustration. “How the hell am I supposed to squeeze a massage in? My break is one hour too, plus the commute, plus I want to have lunch.”

“You’re acting like I don’t know your schedule off the top of my head. How long have I been working for you?”

“Two years,” he replies automatically, taking a moment to appreciate the fact.

All in all, Freya is a wonderful assistant. Arthur knows she’s the only reason why he hasn’t had a mental breakdown yet. She’s punctual and diligent. Stubborn as hell and as ruthless as they come. It’s kind of a double-edged sword though. While she gets the job done - actually goes beyond her line of duty - she also takes great pleasure in bossing Arthur around. And of course, Arthur being the push-over he is, lets her get away with it.

So yeah, Freya is a godsent who saves Arthur from losing it on a daily basis. But she’s also the spawn of the Devil who loves to discover all the ways to drive him nuts.

“And four months,” she corrects. “So cut me some slack, Princess.”

Ignoring the jab - because really, Freya, it’s getting old - he comes back to his previous point of concern. “Then you should know that my schedule is fully packed today.”

“Not anymore,” she announces smugly, walking over to her desk to pick up the iPad before she returns to Arthur’s office. “I moved Masa to tomorrow at 11:15 and Cutforth to Friday at 2 pm, which gives you,” she does a quick count, “two hours and fifteen minutes for your break.” She closes the iPad, smiling victoriously. “Now, stop fretting and make sure you leave on time. I booked you for 12.:15. The commute is about fifteen minutes and you should be there at least five minutes in advance.” She grabs a pen and a post-it-note from his desk, scribbling quickly. “There,” she says, tearing the note off. “This is the address.”

“The enchanted cave,” he reads in disbelief. “Seriously?”

“Shut up, Arthur. Merlin is the best there is. He put me back together after I lost my parents. He’s usually fully booked weeks in advance. You’re lucky that he has a soft spot for me and let me squeeze you in.”

Arthur turns more solemn at the mention of Freya’s parent’s untimely passing. It doesn’t make him any less confused, though.

“Sounds more like a shrink to me than a masseur,” he thinks out loud.

“He might as well be,” she laughs, affection evident in her voice, which softens Arthur’s irritation somewhat. “You need to get that stick out of your ass. And you need to relax.”

Arthur bristles a little at the choice of words but holds himself back. “It’s a massage, not a holiday. How is that gonna relieve my stress?”

“I don’t have time for self-pampering,” he grumbles defensively.

“That’s exactly why you have to make the time!”

“That’s quite an oxymoron.”

“Shush.” She waves a hand dismissively. “Really, Arthur. You need to unwind.”

“I don’t-”

“Arthur,” she groans impatiently. “Go. Get. The. Massage. I’m gonna make sure you leave on time and I will check with Merlin that you actually turned up.”

“I think you’re confusing who’s the boss and who’s the subordinate here.”

“I think you’re full of shit and need to shut up and listen to someone smarter than you.” She turns on her heel and walks out of the office before Arthur has a chance to retort anything back. “Don’t be a prat, Arthur. For once in your life, do something nice for yourself.” And with that, she shuts the door behind her.

Arthur arrives at the place at 12:07, just in time to walk to the door as a woman walks out. He steps to the side, waiting for her to pass.

“Arthur?”

He snaps his head up from where he was blankly staring at the side-walk. “Oh. Hey, Mithian,” he greets when he recognizes one of his long-time friends.

“Don’t hey me and give me a proper hug hello,” she complains and doesn’t waste any time to rise on her tiptoes and wrap him in her arms. Arthur returns the hug with a smile on his face.

“How have you been?”

“I’ve been great but how have you been? I haven’t heard from you in ages,” she scolds him gently.

“Been busy.”

“Aren’t you always,” she scoffs, sympathetic. “Nice to see you’re finally doing something for yourself,” she says, getting a confused look. “You’re coming for a massage, right?”

“Oh. Yeah. Yeah, I am. My assistant made me.” Oh, shit. That shouldn’t have come out.

Predictably, Mithian bursts into giggles. “Figures.”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know, Arthur. Someone needs to look out for you if you don’t,” she explains, her eyes soft and a wave of affection washes over Arthur as he remembers his uni years and their brief but lovely time together as a couple.

Now that he thinks of it, Freya reminds him of Mithian a lot. It occurs to him he’s attracted to a certain type of person. Not necessarily in a romantic sense but more in general.

His sister is like that too. All fiery and strong-willed, calling Arthur names on a good day, but when it comes to it, she’s a protective mother-hen.

So is his best friend. Lance is usually calm and collected but doesn’t hesitate to call Arthur on his bullshit, in the most loving way, though. So does Gwen. Those two really rub off on each other.

What is it with him attracting people into his life who spend most of their time scolding or mothering him? He needs to look into it later.

“I still don’t see how this is supposed to help.” He shrugs indifferently.

“Oh, you’ll see. Just wait for it.” And good grief, she winks at him. “I need to get going. Let me know how it went. You have my number, right?” Arthur nods. “Great. Also, it wouldn’t kill you to get in touch here and there, you know?”

Sighing guiltily, he humors her. “I will.”

“You’d better. Okay, gotta go. Enjoy yourself!” She blows him a kiss and takes off.

He very much doubts he’s gonna enjoy himself but if he’s lucky, maybe he’ll get to nap while the guy gets handsy with him. He could use an extra hour of sleep. God knows the five hours he’s come to consider his routine are not cutting it anymore.

He sighs in relief as he walks through the door to find a rather unassuming lobby. Given the name of the business, he expected the place to live up to its cringeiness but thankfully there are no tacky lights, no magical crystals scattered around, no candles in every corner, nor every surface. The only thing that can be considered a bit spiritual or whatever is the incense perched on the counter, right next to the business cards and leaflets. Thankfully, the scent is very subtle and doesn’t trigger a headache.

“Good afternoon! You must be Arthur,” says a voice to his left and Arthur nearly jumps out of his skin. He didn’t even notice anyone in the room with him.

As he looks over in the direction the voice came from, he finds a man, presumably his masseur - Mark, Matt? - standing in the door leading to what Arthur guesses is the massage room.

“Oh. Hey. Yeah, that would be me.” He turns to face the man, straightening his back. He must look out of place, clad in his suit, still wearing his tie.

The man approaches him with a smile. “I’m Merlin. It’s nice to meet you, finally. Freya talks about you quite a bit.”

Arthur reaches to grasp his hand when Merlin offers it, giving it a firm shake. “Don’t believe anything the little minx lets out of her mouth.” He attempts a joke, hoping his discomfort at being told his assistant talks about him is not too obvious.

He must succeed because Merlin is throwing his head back with a laugh. “She said you would say that,” he teases. “That’s alright. I like to make up my own mind.”

Arthur withdraws his hand and gives him a stiff smile. Outside of work, he has no idea how to make a decent conversation. Not upon the first meeting anyway.

Tilting his head inquiringly, Merlin asks, “You seem quite tense. Is everything alright?”

“It’s just... Look. I know you’re busy, Freya said so. And I appreciate you making time for me. But,” he huffs, knowing he’s gonna sound like a jerk no matter how he phrases it, “I don’t really care for massage much but Freya insisted. She can be fucking scary sometimes. Don’t tell her that though! And I just... I feel really out of place, okay?”

He expects to see Merlin’s expression sour, thinking Arthur is just a pompous douche. He wouldn’t even blame him. But, to his bewilderment, the man’s face is nothing but open, not a single trace of judgement.

“I won’t, I promise,” he says with humor. “If you don’t mind me asking - have you had a bad experience in the past?”

“More like no experience at all.”

For the first time, Merlin looks caught off guard. “You never had a massage?”

“No. I just never saw the point. And anyway, I don’t really have time to spare. The only reason I’m here is that Freya did some magic with my schedule and cleared it up enough to give me two hours off today.”

“Oh.” Merlin suddenly perks up. “In that case, I’d like to show you some of my magic, if you let me.”

Arthur’s brain short-circuits for a moment. Did he just hear what he thinks he did? Or is he so tired he started hallucinating? Plus, his dry spell of six months is probably not helping either.

“Um... I... magic?”

“Yeah, you know...” Merlin sweeps his hand over the lobby. “The enchanted cave? Seems fitting?”

“Oh.” Arthur chokes out. “Right. Right...”

“Oh God, I just realized how cheesy that sounds,” Merlin reflects with a hint of embarrassment. “Anyway, I should stop talking. You didn’t come here for a chat, after all.” He steps to the side, gesturing towards the massage room. “I’d just finished setting it up before you came in, so it’s all ready for you.”

Arthur gets the hint and with a deep breath, he makes his way to the room. Unlike the lobby, it’s bathed in a soft yellow light and.... yup, those are candles alright. No crystals, though.

Merlin is right on his heels. “I’ll let you undress in private, to your level of comfort.You can hang your clothes here, or you can just fold them and put them on this chair.” He gestures to the chair in the corner. “After that, lie down on the massage table, on your stomach, this way around. You see the sheet over there? That’s for you to cover yourself with. I’ll be back in a few minutes when you’re ready. Do you have any questions? Requests?”

So many questions. He goes with the most concerning one. “Yeah, um, when you say my level of comfort...” He cuts himself off. Thankfully, Merlin picks up on it.

“Whatever works for you, really. I can even massage you with your clothes on, although...” He gives Arthur a quick once-over, “I can’t imagine it would be comfortable for you.”

Yeah, no. Definitely not. And he has to go back to work after and he’s sure that showing up in a wrinkled suit would earn him a few judgmental looks.

“But really, it’s up to you. You can keep your clothes on, or just your underwear. If you’d prefer to be completely naked, that works too.”

Arthur hopes the dim lighting of the room conceals his blush. There’s no reason why a man of 32 years should blush at the thought of being naked.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Merlin echoes with an encouraging smile. “Be back soon.”

Arthur releases a relieved breath when Merlin closes the door behind him. This whole thing is even more awkward than he expected. Merlin seems like an alright bloke, if a bit odd but Arthur supposes that comes with the job. He seems nice though, with all the reassurances and effort he put into making sure Arthur is comfortable.

He wonders how many male clients Merlin gets. So far, he knows that Freya and Mithian are swept away by him. Although it’s hard to tell if it’s because of his supposedly outstanding massage skills or his looks.

He groans internally and maybe even a bit out loud. Nope, don’t even go there. No hitting on your masseur. Yeah, that wouldn’t end well. Not with Merlin about to spend the next hour gliding his large hands over Arthur’s whole body.

A shiver runs down his spine and in an attempt to push his thoughts away, he begins undressing, starting with his tie. He hangs his jacket and shirt on the hanger by the door and the rest he puts on the chair, just as Merlin instructed. In no time, he’s standing there clad only in his underwear, debating whether to leave that on or not.

To hell with it. Merlin must have seen it all already.

He ends up ridding himself of his briefs too, face going aflame as he adds them to the pile on the chair and rushes to climb onto the table, settling on his stomach and doing his best to arrange the sheet Merlin provided for him so it covers him as much as possible.

A minute or two pass with him fidgeting in his position. Whether it’s from discomfort or nerves, he doesn’t know, but then Merlin is knocking gently on the door.

“Can I come in?”

“Y-yeah,” he calls hoarsely, grateful Merlin can’t see his face.

The door clicks open and Merlin walks into the room, speaking from somewhere to Arthur’s left. “You probably already figured but one hour allows for a full body massage. Is that alright with you? Or do you want me to forgo any areas? Or spend some more time on a specific one?”

Logically, Arthur knows these are all valid questions but they do nothing to help him relax. More like the opposite.

“Um, no, that’s... you can do whatever you want.”

“Alright. Any contraindications I should know about?”

“I’m not pregnant, if that’s what you’re asking.” Oh God, what did I just say? Stop trying to be funny, Arthur!

It draws a boisterous laugh from Merlin, easing some of Arthur’s tension. “Thanks for clarifying,” he says, catching his breath. “Any injuries?”

“No. I twisted my ankle playing football, but that was years ago.”

“Okay, good.” There is some rustling and thumping, then Merlin speaks again. “Do you care for any specific scent? I’ve got a variety of essential oils, energizing or calming. I have a special blend for stress relief if you’d be interested.”

Arthur winces a little at the fact he’s so easy to read. “Um... sure. But maybe not too much? I still need to go back to work after this.”

“Duly noted,” Merlin promises and busies himself with what Arthur assumes is mixing the oils or something.

Thankfully, he doesn’t take long, preventing Arthur from driving himself into a frenzy. He doesn’t know why he’s so flustered about all of this. So he never had a massage, so what? People do it all the time.

It’s just then that he notices that music is playing but it’s so soft it could almost escape his hearing. He focuses on listening in hopes of distracting himself.

“Okay, I’m all set. I’ll start with dry massage, working my way down from your shoulders. That alright with you?”

Yeah, he never had a massage but he’s pretty sure that asking for affirmation every two minutes isn’t how this usually works. It occurs to him that Merlin is doing this only for him.

He’s equal parts irritated and touched by it.

“Yeah.”

Gently, Merlin places his hands on his shoulders over the sheet. It’s just a simple touch, not even on his bare skin, but Arthur swears he can feel the heat of Merlin’s hands seeping into his own body and spreading throughout. He suppresses a sigh.

“I’ll start with medium pressure. Let me know if it’s too much or if you’d like me to go harder.”

Arthur hopes the whimper that makes it past his lips is not very audible. He clears his throat to cover it up.

Merlin doesn’t say anything. Instead, he presses his hands into the tense muscles of Arthur’s upper back, finding all the right spots from the get go.

A guttural groan escapes Arthur before he knows it.

“Too much?” Merlin asks, stilling his movement.

“N-no. No, it’s... it’s good. Just didn’t... expect it.”

“Good. Let me know if it changes.”

He stays on that area for a few minutes, lingering when he finds a sensitive spot, working out the kink. It’s a curious combination of pain-pleasure and Arthur is not sure if that’s what it’s supposed to feel like, but he knows it leaves him all pliant and floaty, so it’s probably alright.

Merlin makes his way down the spine, to his lower back, then goes back up and pays the same attention to his arms and hands.

He walks around the table and starts working on the legs.

Arthur releases a shuddering breath. He just had a leg-day in the gym yesterday and damn, can he feel it. Merlin’s touch is like a balm on his sore muscles and he exhales as pain gives way to relief.

It’s not long before Merlin comes back to the head of the table, hands grasping at the sheet.

“I’ll move onto the oil part now, yeah?”

“Okay.” At this point, Arthur will take anything. Why has he never done this before?

Merlin pulls the sheet down to his lower back, folding it over and leaving his back and arms exposed. The air of the room is not chilly by any means but Arthur shudders all the same.

There is a slick sound as Merlin covers his hands with oil before bringing them to Arthur’s shoulders again, spreading the oil over the whole expanse of his back and arms. Although the pressure is not as hard now, with the oil easing the way, Arthur finds this part even more intense, Merlin’s touch nearly searing without any barrier between them.

He glides his palms, fingers and forearms over Arthur’s back with long, confident strokes, then switches to short, firmer ones, alternating between the two.

Arthur’s vaguely aware he’s all but melting on the spot, feeling almost detached from his body despite every nerve ending being on fire.

At some point as Merlin rubs at the tense muscles of his neck, he slides his hands into Arthur’s hair, at the base of his skull, rubbing in circular motions.

This time, it’s definitely a whimper that Arthur lets out, blushing furiously.

“S-sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, Arthur,” Merlin instructs in a gentle voice. “You carry a lot of tension here. Plenty of people do but you even more so. Just let go.”

Against his better judgment, he does just that. As Merlin’s hands continue their ministrations, he lets out a series of little huffs and whimpers, unable to stop himself when he starts.

“That’s it. Just let go,” Merlin repeats and puts more force behind his touch, making Arthur’s noises grow in volume.

He both welcomes and mourns the loss when Merlin’s hands leave him in order to grab a hot towel and wipe the remaining layer of oil from his back before covering him with the sheet again.

“I’ll move to your legs now, okay?”

“Uh-huh.”

He’s surprised when Merlin touches his shoulder, prompting him to lift his head. “Since I’m finished with your back, you can have a pillow if you want. It might be more comfortable for you.”

Arthur doesn’t object in the slightest, taking the pillow Merlin’s holding and resting his right cheek on it, sliding his hands underneath. Yeah, much more comfortable.

“Thanks,” he mumbles almost sleepily and hears Merlin chuckle.

“You’re very welcome.”

Then, Merlin is exposing his left leg, tucking the sheet in the space between his legs and over his hip, revealing his left butt-cheek in the process. He doesn’t even have the strength to feel embarrassed.

Merlin doesn’t waste time before coating his hands with oil again and bringing them to Arthur’s leg. He starts with his feet, then moves to his calf, then thigh until he’s worked all the way to his bum.

Arthur nearly jack-knives from the table as Merlin’s thumb presses into the middle of his cheek.

“Sorry! Was it too much?”

Arthur presses his face into the pillow to hide his flush. “I... ugh... I just... didn’t expect... that.”

“Oh,” Merlin quips. “I can skip that part.”

Jesus, Arthur, stop being such a sissy. It’s just a massage. A professional massage.

“It’s fine. You just... surprised me.”

“Sorry about that,” he says genuinely and resumes the massage, albeit more tentative than before.

Now that the initial shock is over, Arthur begins to appreciate the attention Merlin’s paying to that particular part of his body. He never knew how tense he was in... well.... there.

He whines a little when Merlin presses his thumb into a tender spot.

“Shit. I would’ve thought that going to the gym four times a week would make up for sitting on my ass several hours every day,” he grumbles more to himself.

“I think you’re doing an excellent job at the gym,” Merlin replies with humor, then promptly freezes, Arthur following suit. “Oh God, I’m so sorry. That was... very inappropriate. I swear, I didn’t mean anything by it. Not that you don’t have a nice ass. I mean... oh shit,” he starts panicking, removing his hands from Arthur’s body. Funny enough, witnessing Merlin freak out makes Arthur strangely relaxed.

He responds with a huff. “Take it easy, Merlin. I appreciate the compliment. You can continue.”

“Are you... are you sure?” Merlin asks tentatively.

“I’m sure. You like my ass, so what? I’ve been working hard on it.”

Merlin laughs, a bit nervous, a bit relieved, and eventually listens, resuming the massage on the other leg, starting from his foot again.

Maybe the whole exchange should make everything weird but strangely enough, Arthur is even more relaxed than he was before. The realization that Merlin is only human, with no filter it seems, making it easier.

Merlin hesitates when he works his way up to Arthur’s bum again, but with no complaint in sight, he repeats what he did on the other leg.

When he’s done, he steps to the side of the table and lifts the sheet off of Arthur, holding it in front of himself like a screen. “Can you turn over, Arthur?”

Arthur gathers all his strength to prop on his forearms with the intention to do just that, but stills momentarily.

“Arthur?” Merlin questions when nothing happens.

“I... um....” Well, shit. How did I not notice I was sporting a semi?!

“What’s wrong?”

“I... might have a... situation,” he admits, face burning.

At first, Merlin is silent, then the realization dawns on him. “Oh. I see. That’s fine, Arthur. It happens more often than not,” he reassures but it doesn’t help much.

“But I... God, this is embarrassing,” he hides his face in his hands.

“I understand why you would think that, but I promise it’s alright. It doesn’t mean anything; it’s just a natural reaction.”

It takes some more prompting but eventually, Arthur flips onto his back and closes his eyes as Merlin drapes the sheet over him again, the outline of his half-hard dick painfully visible.

“I can fetch you a blanket if it makes you feel better?”

“If you don’t mind,” he squeezes out without opening his eyes, only doing so when Merlin hands him the blanket and he rushes to throw it over his lower half. “Thanks. Sorry about that.”

He dares a look at Merlin and finds him smiling in empathy. “Not at all. It’s no big deal, Arthur.” He reaches for a bottle of oil and puts his hands on Arthur’s arm. “Just lie back and relax.”

Arthur does his best to do just that while Merlin massages his arm and hand before switching to the other one.

By the time he’s finished with them, Arthur’s calmed down considerably and, thank fuck for that, the embarrassment was enough to have killed any interest his dick might have taken in the situation.

He expects Merlin to announce the massage has come to an end when he finishes wiping his arms with a hot towel, but to his surprise, Merlin slides a chair behind him, sitting himself down, hands coming to cradle Arthur’s head. Arthur lifts it automatically, assuming that’s what Merlin wants him to do.

“You just relax, Arthur. Don’t help me by holding your head up. I’ll manage.”

It’s not an easy thing to trust someone not to drop your head but Merlin is nothing but cautious as he maneuvers it around to get to the spot he’s aiming for and Arthur finds himself giving up control completely. Head massage doesn’t sound like anything special but to his bewilderment, it’s the most relaxing thing ever. At some point, he even starts dozing off. At least he thinks he does because he nearly jumps out of his skin when Merlin says his name.

“Arthur?”

“Yeah?” he snaps his eyes open, looking up at Merlin upside down, seeing the other man smiling fondly.

“Did you fall asleep?”

“N-no?” he stutters, cheeks growing pink.

“Of course,” Merlin says in the way that screams he doesn’t believe him but humors him anyway. “Well, I’m all done here. How are you feeling?”

“Weirdly disconnected from my body,” he says with a grunt, attempting to sit up. “Shit, I don’t know how I’ll get any work done for the rest of the day.”

“What time do you finish?”

“Officially? Around five. Actually? Seven. Sometimes eight.”

“God, that’s disgusting.”

“You have no idea.”

“Thankfully, I don’t,” he agrees. “I’ll let you get dressed. Meet me in the lobby when you’re ready, okay?”

“Okay.”

It’s with sloth speed that Arthur puts his clothes on. In the back of his mind, he’s aware of Merlin’s busy schedule and can only hope he’s not stalling.

He squints at the bright light of the lobby when he emerges from the massage room. When his eyes adjust, he spots Merlin walking towards him with a glass of water. “Here, have some water.”

“Thanks,” he accepts without objection, just because he’s barely standing. He doesn’t know what Merlin’s done to him but it feels like his body doesn’t even belong to him. He has no idea how he’s gonna drive back to work without driving himself into a street-lamp.

“How much do I owe you?” he asks when he’s chugged down the whole glass, reaching for his wallet.

“Oh. It’s already paid for. Freya used your credit card when she booked you in.”

Arthur blinks at him blankly. How dare Freya pay for something that Arthur hadn’t even agreed to yet?!

Yeah, as if she would ever take a no for an answer.

He sighs, pulling out a twenty pound bill regardless. “She would, wouldn’t she. That little shit,” he grumbles under his breath. “At least let me tip you,” he holds a hand with the bill to Merlin.

“Actually, she included the tip, too,” he says sheepishly, giving Arthur a crooked smile.

“Bloody hell,” he huffs indignantly, then takes a deep breath. “Whatever. Just take it.”

“But-”

“Merlin. Take. It. You’ve done a great job,” he insists, holding eye contact.

Merlin still hesitates at first but resigns eventually. “As long as you’re sure.”

“I am.”

“Okay. Thank you, Arthur,” he smiles appreciatively as he accepts the money. He bites his lip, seemingly in thought, then turns around and plucks one business card from the pile on the desk, grabs a pen and writes something down. “Here,” he turns to Arthur, holding the card to him. “If you ever feel like coming back for another massage.”

Arthur takes the card, noticing that Merlin wrote another number on in besides the one already printed. “Thanks but... I’m sure Freya has the number.”

“This is my personal number,” Merlin explains and Arthur’s brows shoot up in surprise. “I’m not always able to pick up the phone here but if you text me on my personal number, I’ll get back to you as soon as I can,” he says, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Oh. Okay. Thanks, that’s very... um... I appreciate it.”

“No problem,” Merlin mumbles, fidgety. Arthur finds it both amusing and confusing.

“Well, I should get going. Thank you again.”

“Oh! Of course, don’t let me keep you,” he rushes to say. “See you next time?”

“Yeah.” As non-committal as he sounds, he finds he means it. Something’s telling him he’ll be back sooner or later. Probably sooner.

“Take care of yourself, Arthur,” Merlin calls as Arthur opens the door on his way out and his heart skips a beat at the genuine tone.

He turns around to give the man one last smile before the door shuts behind him.

“So? How was it?” Freya advances on him as soon as he comes back. He slumps into his chair, sitting upright when Freya places a box of takeout in front of him.

“Fine.” Freya is not impressed. “It was good, okay?” he adds, opening the box to reveal his all-time favorite pad thai and all but inhales the food.

“Told you,” she says smugly, ignoring Arthur’s glare. “Gonna go again?”

“Maybe.”

“Well, that’s convincing.”

“Shut it, Freya,” he shoots back. “I got his business card. I’ll give him a call when I feel like it.”

“I can do that for you.”

“Nope, thanks. I’m sure I can manage to make a phone-call myself, even without an intervention of my obnoxious assistant.”

Freya throws a balled-up napkin at him. “Ungrateful prat,” she retorts and stomps out of his office.

“I heard that!”

Arthur lasts exactly four days and two hours before giving in and taking Merlin up on his offer to text him on his personal number to book another appointment. He didn’t expect to snap so quickly but after waking up the next day after his massage, refreshed and chirpy, feeling as though he had a brand new body - who could blame him, really.

Hey, Merlin. It’s Arthur. I was wondering if you had a slot available this week?

There, simple and straight to the point. Freya said that Merlin is usually booked out weeks in advance but asking never hurt anybody.

His phone chimes with an incoming message about ten minutes later.

Hi, Arthur! Nice to hear from you again. :)

Sure thing. Did you have a specific day and time in mind?

Nope, he didn’t. He was willing to adjust his schedule just to squeeze in an hour.

Not really. Freya implied that you’re usually fully booked so I thought I’d leave that up to you.

She’s over-exaggerating ;) I can make time.

Oh, God, he’s one of those people. Emojis and shit.

Oh. Okay, then. Thursday work for you?

It does :) What time?

This is... unexpectedly easy. He should have never let Freya bullshit him. But that’s what she does. She’d do anything to get her way and make Arthur do whatever she wants. No Christmas bonus for her this year!

Is 6pm too late?

As a matter of fact, he never finishes before six. Hell, he never finishes before seven. But maybe his friends are right. Maybe he should make time for himself once in a while. It won’t kill him, will it?

Thought you didn’t finish work until ungodly hour :D

He’s already typing out a reply but Merlin beats him to it with another message.

And it’s not too late. I’ll write you down for 6, then ;)

Oh. That easy, huh?

Thank you, he sends first, then rushes to add an explanation. I can make an exception once in a while. He hesitates with the next part but decides to throw caution to the wind, just this time. It’s worth it.

He regrets it as soon as he hits send, but doesn’t get a chance to wallow in it for too long before Merlin’s reply comes.

Oh no, now there are expectations I need to live up to :O

Jk. Thank you. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself last time. See you Thursday ;)

Red to the tips of his ears, he types out a quick see you before pocketing his phone, busying himself with the remaining paperwork in hopes it will calm down his racing heart.

He’s not that lucky.

On Thursday, he wraps up his work just before 5:30, hoping it’s enough time to get through the traffic.

It is, as it turns out.Though he’s cutting it close, parking the car just two minutes before six.

“Sorry, I underestimated the traffic,” he rushes to apologize when he bursts through the door, finding Merlin lounging peacefully on the sofa, swiping through his phone.

As soon as Merlin lifts his eyes to meet Arthur’s, his whole face lights up with a wide smile. “Hey! No problem at all. You’re my last massage for today, so no rush.”

“Thanks but it’s already late. I don’t wanna keep you any more than needed.”

Merlin dismisses his worries with a wave of a hand. “Nonsense. It’s no trouble. Come on in,” he smiles encouragingly and Arthur dutifully follows him to the massage room. It looks exactly the same but Arthur feels much more at ease than last time, now that he’s familiar with it.

“Thank you again for finding time for me,” he says gratefully because it feels like he hasn’t said it enough.

It earns him an indulgent smile. “I was happy to do it. It’s no trouble, really,” Merlin repeats and Arthur takes the hint.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he echoes. “You know the drill by now, right? I’ll be back in a few.”

“Sure. Thanks.”

Merlin nods his head in acknowledgement, leaving the room to give Arthur privacy.

Similarly to last time, Arthur hangs his suit and shirt and folds the rest of his clothes, laying face down on the table and covering himself with the sheet. As promised, Merlin knocks on the door a couple minutes later, entering when Arthur gives him a go-ahead.

“Any requests today?”

He suppresses the urge to crack an inappropriate joke. “Not really. Same as last time is good.”

“Alright,” says Merlin and he starts the massage exactly in the same way he did last time, humming appreciatively when he rubs at Arthur’s shoulders.

“You’re not nearly as tense as before. Both literally and figuratively,” he points out.

“Yeah,” Arthur agrees. “I felt really good when I woke up the next day. All loose and relaxed.” He clears his throat, cringing at his wording. “And I was just nervous because it was my first time, I guess. Now that I know the ropes, it’s easy to just...”

“Let go?” Merlin finishes for him and... is that smugness he hears?

“Y-yeah,” he replies, feeling silly all of sudden.

“I’m glad to hear that. Glad I could help.”

“Me too.”

They remain silent after that. While Merlin doesn’t do anything out of the ordinary - or rather, anything that would be different to last time - Arthur can sense a shift in the energy in the room. In Merlin. In himself. He might be imagining it but he would swear that Merlin’s hands... linger - which is kinda a stupid thing to say, this is a massage after all, touch is a crucial component here - but... yeah... that’s what it feels like.

Every touch of Merlin’s hands on his body feels amplified, Arthur nearly vibrating in response to... he has no idea what he’s responding to. He only knows it feels good.

It feels right.

When Merlin asks him to flip onto his back, he’s relieved to find that the humiliating experience from last time is not gonna be repeated - no awkward boners today, ladies and gentlemen!

He hisses through his teeth when Merlin presses into a tender spot of his arm.

Merlin’s immediately apologetic. “Sorry! I didn’t expect you to be so sensitive here.”

“ ‘s fine,” he mumbles drowsily. “I might have overdone it in the gym today.”

“When did you have time to go to the gym?”

“Before work. Around five.”

“God, that’s disgusting. Why would you do that?” Merlin sounds truly appalled which only amuses Arthur.

“I’m too tired by the time I finish work. At least this way, I get a bit of a boost in the morning.”

“I’m still not convinced.”

“Shut up, Merlin. Without the gym, I wouldn’t have the ass you like so much.”

He snaps his eyes open in panic and finds Merlin gaping at him in shock.

“I... I did not... ugh...”

“Oh my God, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to say that, I swear! I’m just really tired, basically falling asleep. I just talk shit when I’m like that.”

Forget the boner. This is the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to him.

Funnily enough, his stammering helps Merlin fight through his shock and now he’s more entertained than anything.

“No filter, huh? I can relate,” he brushes the whole thing off and resumes massaging over Arthur’s arm, softer this time and Arthur would moan appreciatively at the soothing effect the touch has on his sore muscles but given his previous faux pas, he doesn’t think it’s the right time for it.

Merlin works his way down to his hand, paying special attention to the spot at the base of his thumb that is always so stiff after spending hours and hours every day typing on his laptop.

A weird thing happens after that. Same as the last time, Merlin slides his fingers in between Arthur’s, squeezing and pulling until he hears a cracking sound of the joints. That is all well and good but instead of pulling away, he remains with their fingers interlaced. It almost feels... almost feels like they are holding hands.

Arthur opens his eyes again to give Merlin a questioning look but Merlin is staring at their joined hands instead, an expression on his face that Arthur can’t really decipher but if he were to guess, he would almost call it... longing.

Merlin must realize what he’s doing because his eyes widen as they lock onto Arthur’s, panicked and so blue.

“Sorry!” he blurts out, pulling away and ducking his head as he makes his way to the other side to repeat the process on the other hand.

Arthur feels the air around them grow thicker. He doesn’t know what happened exactly and doesn’t dare ask.

He can tell Merlin keeps himself in check as he finishes with his other side and it’s not long before he moves to the head massage.

After all of that, it’s really hard for Arthur to relax but he does his best as to not make things even more awkward.

He’s equally relieved and disappointed when Merlin’s hands disappear, signaling that their session has come to an end.

“I’ll meet you in the lobby when you’re ready, okay?” Merlin asks stiffly.

“Okay,” Arthur agrees, releasing a breath he didn’t know he’s been holding when Merlin shuts the door behind him.

Since he knows he doesn’t have to rush because he was the last client today, he takes his time putting the clothes on and mentally prepares himself for facing Merlin in a few moments.

It takes all of his courage to maintain eye contact when he leaves the room, coming to the desk where Merlin’s already waiting for him with a glass of water.

“Thanks.” He doesn’t finish the whole glass, his stomach too unsettled for that and pulls out his wallet.

“I know for sure Freya didn’t pay in advance since I booked the massage myself this time,” he comments in what he hopes is a light-hearted tone. It works because it draws a chuckle from Merlin.

“You’re not wrong,” he agrees, going quiet again but shaking himself off at Arthur’s expectant look. “Oh! Sorry, it’s seventy pounds.”

Arthur raises an eyebrow in surprise. While he wouldn’t know anything about the regular massage price, it doesn’t seem too much considering how popular Merlin is. According to Freya, anyway.

He plucks out two fifty dollar bills and hands them over. Merlin blinks at him in confusion. “Um... that’s a bit--”

“Just take it. You deserve it. You’re good and you went far and beyond to make time for me even at the late hour.”

“It was no tr--”

“Merlin, will you shut up and take the bloody money?” he nearly whines at the man’s stubbornness, relieved when Merlin eventually gives in.

“You’re so bossy,” he shakes his head almost fondly.

“Goes with the territory. I’m the CEO after all.”

“In that case, that was a lousy tip for a CEO.”

“I beg your pardon?!”

And just like that, the tension has disappeared and they are back to their easy banter.

“I’m just teasing,” Merlin reassures unnecessarily, a dopey smile still in place. “Let me know if you wanna do this again, yeah?” He sounds unsure, although why, Arthur has no idea.

“Actually, if you really don’t mind, could we make it a weekly thing?”

“Oh,” Merlin says with surprise. “Sure. Thursday again? Or do you want a different day?”

“Thursday is good. Six o’clock?”

“Yeah. Yeah, works for me.”

“Brilliant,” Arthur smiles back. “I’ll see you next week, then?”

“Looking forward to it.” The way Merlin’s face softens further shouldn’t make Arthur’s stomach do flip-flops but for some reason, it does.

Oh, no. Abort, abort!

“Yeah. See you,” he mumbles and all but runs to his car.

Arthur lets out a girly squeal when Freya slams a pile of papers onto his desk.

“Why haven’t you gone see Merlin again?” she asks accusingly and... wait, what?

“Excuse me?”

“I thought you liked the massage. That you felt better after. I thought you’d go back.”

Well, not that it’s any of her business but...

“I’ve been like four more times since,” he argues back, watching Freya’s furious expression turn confused.

“No, you haven’t. There’s no way you could have altered your schedule yourself without me noticing.”

Arthur rolls his eyes, annoyed that he, the fucking CEO, has to explain himself to his assistant. “Yes, I have. I’m going today, actually. I go every Thursday after work. Well, I finish early, so I can be there at six. Which, by the way, you could have done the first time around. I truly don’t understand why you’d rather mess with my appointments to get me a rushed massage on my break instead of simply booking one in the evening.”

If anything, Freya grows even more confused. “You’re lying.”

Arthur positively bristles at the insult. “I’m not!”

“You so are. Merlin doesn’t work evenings. And he doesn’t work weekends. His last bookings are for 4 o’clock. Hence why I had to book you for your break.”

He’s already preparing a come-back to defend himself when the words finally sink in. He snaps his mouth shut.

Then why... why did Merlin agree to Thursday evenings? That doesn’t make any sense.

“Are you sure you’ve got that right?” he asks instead because... because if it’s true, it puts many things into perspective.

Like the fact that Merlin literally beams every time Arthur shows up.

Or the fact that his touch seems to linger, seems to grow more and more intense with every visit. Like he’s enjoying touching Arthur.

At first, Arthur thought it was just his imagination, but upon checking the time when he got to his car only to find Merlin had extended the massage by at least ten or fifteen minutes, it was obvious that he wasn’t making it up.

Most importantly, it would explain why Merlin started texting Arthur randomly, usually on Fridays to ask how he was doing, if he felt alright and so on.

It would even explain why he would sometimes text on the weekend too.

It did not explain why Arthur indulged in the texting.

It did not explain why it was the highlight of his days.

“I’m sure,” Freya replies, confirming his growing suspicion. When he doesn’t react, she turns concerned. “Arthur?”

“Yeah?”

She hesitates. “You’re not lying.” A statement, not a question, but he still answers it.

“No.”

“Oh,” she breathes, out of words.

“Do you...” He clears his throat. “Do you know why Merlin would make an exception for me?”

The glint in her eyes suggests that she might have a good idea about that, but doesn’t say so. “I think you should ask Merlin that.”

Yeah. Yeah, he should.

He will.

“You seem very... serious today. What happened?”

“Why did you agree on 6pm Thursdays?” he asks directly before he loses the nerve.

“Huh?” Merlin blinks at him.

“Freya told me you don’t do evenings. Why would you let me impose on your time?” God, he feels so stupid.

“Oh,” says Merlin. “Well, first of all, you’re not imposing.”

“But-”

“Second, working for yourself has a lot of perks. Like that I can do with my time as I see fit.”

“So you decided to spend it on me.”

“More like spend it with you.”

Spend it with-- oh. Oh.

“What? Why?”

Unexpectedly, Merlin snorts. “You don’t know?”

No. No he doesn’t.

“No.”

“Oh, my, you’re a right dumbass.”

“Excuse you?!”

“Arthur,” Merlin says, apparently running out of patience. “I simply like you, okay? At first, I agreed because you seemed like you could use some relaxation. Quite a bit of it, really.”

Arthur bites his lip, hesitating with the next question. “And then?”

Merlin sighs, shoulders sagging almost in defeat. “And then I just liked seeing you.”

Arthur takes in a shaky breath, both startled and excited by the admission. “Why didn’t you just ask me out, then?”

Merlin laughs, but there’s very little humor in it. “That’s hardly professional, Arthur.”

“That’s what worried you?”

“Of course it did! It does! Jesus, Arthur, you have no idea,” he shakes his head, “no idea how much I have to hold myself back when I have my hands all over you.”

Arthur swallows audibly, noticing for the first time how dry his throat has gotten. Well, here goes nothing.

”What if... what if I don’t want you to hold back?”

Merlin stares at him with his mouth hanging open, his gaze roaming over Arthur’s face in search of something. Probably a confirmation.

“Arthur, that’s not--”

“It’s 6:02,” he blurts out.

“What?”

“It’s two minutes past six. You should have started with the massage by now.”

Initially, Merlin doesn’t respond, looking as though Arthur’s talking in a different language. When Arthur holds his eyes, hoping to prove his point, he resigns on any further arguments.

“Come on in then,” he instructs tiredly and Arthur follows him to the room. He’s shedding his jacket even before they get there. He hangs it and starts taking off his tie just as Merlin turns around to face him.

“Okay, I’ll let you--” He cuts himself off when Arthur pulls the tie over his head, throwing it on the chair and starts unbuttoning his shirt.

“Don’t bother,” he says, too pleased with himself when Merlin stays rooted to the spot, openly staring.

“Uh...” Is all he manages when Arthur gets rid of the shirt, exposing his chest (which - it’s not like Merlin’s never seen it before anyway) and begins working his belt and trousers open. Soon, he’s pulling them down together with his briefs, stepping out of his shoes in the meantime.

As he straightens up, completely naked, he takes a few seconds to appreciate the way Merlin looks at him, his jaw practically hitting the floor. Lips twisting into a smug smile, he turns to the table to climb on it, settling on his stomach as he does every time, except now he doesn’t bother covering himself up with a sheet.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he calls with barely concealed amusement when Merlin doesn’t move an inch.

“Uh... yeah. Yeah, let me just...” he stutters, reaching for the sheet.

“Leave it.”

“W-what?”

“No point.”

“But--”

“Merlin,” Arthur says darkly, “leave it.”

Thank fuck, Merlin actually listens and abandons the sheet in favor of grabbing a bottle of oil, pouring some in his hands with trembling fingers.

“Arthur...” he tries one more time, hesitant.

“Merlin,” Arthur returns. “Shut up.”

He hears Merlin exhale shakily and then, the familiar sensation of oil-slicked hands takes over all of his senses. He sighs in relief when the touch causes his body to go completely lax as it always does.

Merlin’s hands are unusually tentative, like he’s still not sure he’s got Arthur’s permission to touch him - like this - after what he admitted to him. It’s for that reason that Arthur starts making deliberate noises of pleasure, humming softly, or outright groaning and moaning when Merlin arrives to a particularly sensitive spot.

Above him, Merlin begins making noises of his own, but he sounds more pained than anything. Out of curiosity, Arthur turns his head to the side to peer at Merlin, just to be able to see what expression is on his face right now.

He doesn’t get that far because all of his attention is stolen by the very visible, very prominent bulge pressing against the front of Merlin’s trousers.

“Shit,” he utters before he can stop himself, feeling his dick twitch helplessly where it’s almost squashed between his body and the table.

Immediately, Merlin freezes on the spot, his breath hitching.

“I... Arthur...”

Arthur lets out another moan at witnessing Merlin’s obvious desire for him and returns his head to the previous position.

“You can do my legs now,” he says suggestively, but it sounds more like an order. For a moment, nothing happens. Merlin doesn’t withdraw his hands but he doesn’t move either. Arthur is about to impatiently prompt him to action but in the end, Merlin goes willingly, moving around the table until he’s standing at Arthur’s feet.

He covers his left leg with oil and proceeds to massage it from the foot up, almost as if nothing unusual is happening.

It’s not until he makes his way past the knee, to the hamstrings and inner thigh, that Arthur feels him falter, the pressure letting off and in a desperate attempt to urge Merlin on, he spreads his legs further apart.

Behind him, Merlin makes a choked off sound, his grip on Arthur’s thigh tightening.

“A-Arthur,” he says like a prayer and Arthur feels himself grow harder the lower Merlin’s voice drops.

“Go on,” he orders and this time, Merlin recovers faster, sparing barely a few seconds before he starts rubbing his thigh in circular motion, slowly working his way up, up, all the way to his ass - his very exposed ass.

“Arthur,” Merlin whispers, barely audible, but Arthur hears him all the same. He knows what he’s asking and in lieu of an answer, he digs his knees into the table to push his hip up and back, groaning when the movement provides friction to his now fully erect cock.

“Do it,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut. “Please.”

Merlin makes an indescribable sound and then his slick fingers are dipping tentatively between his cheeks, brushing against his entrance.

Arthur feels his pulse quicken, heat spreading throughout his whole body at the single touch.

“Gods, Arthur, the sounds you make...” Merlin praises, rubbing at his opening in tiny circles.

“Merlin,” he returns, attempting to spread his legs further apart. Merlin all but growls at the display and then he’s bending over to pepper kisses over Arthur’s naked shoulders, even as his fingers press against him more insistently.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, Arthur,” he mumbles into his skin and Arthur trembles at the soft-spoken words.

“Fuck me,” he moans, hitching his hips up. “I want you to fuck me.”

“Shit, Arthur, you can’t just.... can’t just say stuff like that.”

“I wouldn’t have to if you’d just hurry up and get on with it,” he tries to sound irritated but it falls flat when a whine is torn out of his throat as Merlin enters him with one finger.

“Shit. Shit...”

“Payback,” Merlin laughs, kissing just behind his ear.

“Merlin, I swear to God...”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say,” he retorts with fondness and starts pumping the finger in and out.

Satisfied when Merlin actually listens, Arthur is able to relax again, offering himself to Merlin’s skilled hands.

He is nothing but gentle as he works Arthur open, adding more oil before a second finger joins the first, then a third one.

Under him, Arthur’s rolling his hips against the table, seeking as much friction as he can because Merlin’s taking too bloody long, checking on him every two fucking minutes. Just as he’s about to call him out, the fingers brush against his prostate, successfully stealing all the words out of his mouth, together with his breath.

“Fuck,” he grips at the edge of the table, struggling to breathe.

Merlin chuckles at his reaction. “You like that?” he asks smugly, totally unhelpful and unnecessary and hits that spot again.

“Would l-like it better if you f-finally got your dick in m-me,” he trips over his tongue, panting.

“Impatient,” Merlin clicks his tongue but before Arthur can tell him where he can stick it (pun intended), Merlin’s fingers leave him.

His breath hitches at the sudden emptiness and in hopes of speeding up the process, he gathers his strength to hitch himself up until he’s on all fours. He expects Merlin to climb up behind him but instead, there’s a hand on his shoulder, prompting him to twist to the side.

“Not like that,” Merlin explains, nudging him until he’s turned over completely, facing him. “I want to see you.”

Arthur wants to crack a joke, call Merlin sappy and whatnot, but he can only blush.

“Oh.”

“Can you sit on the edge?” Merlin instructs, helping him to get into position. He manages just fine by himself, sitting on the side of the table with his legs hanging off. He watches, mesmerized, as Merlin rids himself of his T-shirt and trousers in under ten seconds, feeling accomplished at seeing him so impatient himself even though he chastised Arthur for it only minutes ago.

“Eager, are we?” he teases, hearing the blood rush in his ears. Merlin gives him a dark look, clearly disapproving of his tone, and takes the final step until he’s standing between his open thighs, grabbing him by the hips and pulling forward.

The movement is so sudden that it sends Arthur flat onto his back, hips hanging off the table. Merlin nudges him to wrap his legs around him and braces himself against the edge with his hands.

“You’re such a bloody tease,” he chides with a shake of his head.

“Shut up, Mer-- fuuuck,” he nearly chokes as Merlin’s cock breaches him without a warning, sliding in fully with one push. “Shit.”

“Okay?” Merlin checks with a quake in his voice, proving he’s not as collected as he makes himself to be.

“Y-yeah. Just move already.”

Merlin chuckles. “So bossy.” Then proceeds to do just that. He pulls back almost completely before pushing back in, again, and one more time until he’s settling into a rhythm.

It takes Arthur a couple more minutes to catch his breath but when he does, he focuses on meeting Merlin halfway, although the position barely allows it.

“M-Merlin.”

Merlin snaps his hips almost violently at hearing his name tumble from Arthur’s lips in that tone and Arthur moans loudly when he drives directly into his prostate.

“Fuck! Fuck, Merlin. R-right there.”

“God, Arthur. It‘s so good. You’re so good.”

Arthur keens at the praise, urging Merlin to go faster.

Instead, Merlin halts all the movement, earning a desperate whine from Arthur. He chuckles at the reaction and leans forward to slide his hands underneath him to pull him up until he’s sitting up, their chests close enough to touch.

“Arthur,” he whispers in the space between them before there’s none because suddenly, Merlin’s crashing their lips together, unexpected and so good. He swallows the surprised sound from Arthur’s lips, licking into his mouth.

Arthur moans in agreement, wrapping him in his arms and deepening the kiss.

Merlin grabs him by the hips again and starts a new rhythm, his thrust shorter but harder.

Arthur whimpers against his lips, squeezing Merlin between his thighs. He gives up any effort to help Merlin out and decides to kiss the living hell out of him while Merlin plows his ass.

It works just fine and it’s not long before Merlin’s thrusts grow erratic and uncoordinated.

“A-Arthur,” he chokes out between kisses. “I’m gonna...”

Instead of replying, Arthur takes his lips in another kiss and clenches around his cock, drawing a hiss from him.

“Arthur!”

“Yeah, come on,” he encourages and clenches his ass again.

Merlin manages two, three, four more thrusts before he stills, buried to the hilt and spills himself inside Arthur. He presses his face into the crook of Arthur’s neck, panting against the sweaty skin while his hips continue their subtle grinding motion.

Arthur presses a kiss to his temple, sliding his fingers through the dark locks, marveling at the silkiness.

Merlin lifts his head to peer at him from under his lashes. His pupils are blown wide, overtaking all the blue of his irises. There’s a lovely flush to his cheeks and the way his fringe sticks to his sweaty forehead is almost endearing.

Arthur’s never seen him like this and he wants to appreciate the view but doesn’t get much time because then, Merlin is untangling his legs from around him and slides to his knees in front of Arthur. He gives him a little smirk before opening his mouth wide and swallowing his cock.

“Nngh!” Arthur yelps with surprise, throwing his head back in unexpected pleasure.

“Shit, Merlin.”

Merlin hums around his cock and starts sucking him in earnest. It feels so good he can’t even feel embarrassed when he feels Merlin’s come leaking out of him and to his shock, he also feels Merlin’s fingers slide into him again, hitting his prostate with deadly precision. “Merlin!”

It barely takes another half a minute before Arthur’s screaming himself hoarse as his orgasm overtakes him and he comes in Merlin’s mouth. Still, Merlin’s mouth doesn’t leave him, working him through his release instead until he’s whimpering from over-sensitivity and pulling at his hair to pry him off.

Merlin releases his cock with an obscene sound that echoes in the small room, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he stands up between Arthur’s open legs.

“Are you okay?” is the first thing he asks and Arthur can’t help but laugh.

“Are you for real?” Merlin just blinks at him. “We should have done that ages ago, instead of the massage.”

Merlin groans in annoyance. “That’s not the nature of my business, Arthur!”

His irritation only amuses Arthur further. “You could make an exception for me,” he teases, pulling Merlin closer and Merlin goes willingly, although the scowl is still on his face.

“That depends on how much you’ll tip me,” he shoots back.

“Oh, I’ll tip you all you want, Merlin.”

Merlin slaps the back of his head gently. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Hmm. But I think you like it,” he says smugly, pulling him into another kiss, letting out a moan when he tastes himself on his lips.

“You’re awfully confident for someone who just got fucked on a massage table.”

“You mean for someone who just talked his masseur into fucking him on a massage table.”

“I think manipulated is better-fitting.”

“Or seduced.”

Merlin scoffs. “You did not seduce me.”

“Oh, really?” he teases. “I’d say you gave it up pretty easy after seeing me in my birthday suit.”

“I did not!”

“You did, though.”

“Your mind is misleading you.”

“Whatever you say,” Arthur concludes dismissively, then gives Merlin a wicked grin. “Next time, you’re gonna lie down on this table and I’m gonna ride you.”

Unsursprisingly, Merlin all but chokes on thin air. “That... uh... sounds... agreeable.”

“I’ll say.”

“You’re so annoyingly confident.”

“Just because you make it so easy.”

“Arthur.”

“Merlin,” he huffs. “Shut up. And kiss me again.”

And for once, without a single protest, Merlin does just that.

OMFG, Merlin! You DIDN'T!

Huh?

Don't "huh" me! You know bloody well!

Apparently not.

You fucked my boss!

!!! JFC, I can't believe he told you! :O

I sent him your way so he got that stick out of his ass. Not for you to replace it with your dick!

He didn't. His limp did, jsyk.

He could have hurt his leg or something...

And he brought me coffee. He'd never brought me coffee before! I've never seen him in such a good mood!

Your welcome :-*

*You're

That's disgusting. I'm never getting a massage from you ever again!

Oh, well... it was worth it :-p

*Freya has left the chat*

#bottom!arthur #merthur #top!merlin #massage #bottom arthur fest

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the-big-nope · 4 years

Text

While I’m certainly nowhere near ready for the story of the Mighty Nein to come to an end, I am also a D&D nerd and there’s a new sourcebook coming out soon with a bunch of new subclasses in it. By the time Campaign 3 of Critical Role gets underway, that book will be published, leaving a wealth of new options for the cast members to choose from, so why not entertain myself by making barely justified predictions of what the cast is most likely to pick for their next characters! (Disclaimer: Some of the new subclasses have been confirmed and some haven’t, so for a few of these picks I’m just going off of what I think is going to be in the book).

Travis

Cleric (Tempest Domain): Travis has been playing lowkey EMT since campaign one, and Laura’s already confirmed that Travis almost went cleric for campaign two. Between Grog with his barb-boosted movement speed to get around the battlefield so he could shove healing potions into his squishier teammates, and Fjord multiclassing into paladin and lovingly tapping his friends with single hit points to get them back up, it would be delightful to see him fully jump in and embrace the classical healer role. Of course, this is Travis, so I don’t see him picking a cleric domain that doesn’t allow for at least some whoop-ass, and Tempest Domain brings plenty of it. You get proficiency with all armor and weapons, Divine Strike at level 8 for boosted melee damage, you can use a reaction to inflict lightning or thunder damage against any enemy within melee range that’s hit you. And if you climb up high enough in levels, you gain a flying speed equal to your walking one whenever you’re outdoors. Pretty nifty, and makes for a fitting subclass for a guy that’s voiced Thor on multiple occasions.

Blood Hunter (Order of the Lycan): I mean, come on. The only reason it isn’t number one is that it was already widely assumed this would be Travis’s pick for campaign two, and I wouldn’t put it past him to surprise us again. But still, we saw him get a taste in Liam’s one shot and he was clearly having the time of his life. Besides, we lost Molly far too early to really see the blood hunter’s potential come to life; it would be damn cool to see someone else take a crack at it, and Travis is enough of a D&D gambler to not shy away from the class’s riskier features.

Artificer (Armorer): Speaking of Marvel connections, if Travis doesn’t lean toward fantasy Thor, then fantasy Iron Man might catch his attention instead. Artificer is an official class now, and since it’ll be reprinted in TCoE by the time campaign 3 gets underway, it’ll be a lot more visible as an option. The Armorer sits in almost a perfect middle ground of what Travis has done before: tanky and a frontliner, but also still has spells and tricks to help the party. Plus, you get a badass suit of power armor out of it. What’s not to like?

Marisha

Bard (College of Creation): After Hazel Copperpot, we all saw the pure magic that was Marisha Ray playing a bard. I know she implied that Hazel was supposed to be her campaign two backup character, but I hope this doesn’t discourage her from making another one. There are quite a few bard subclasses, a number of which I could see her being drawn to (Lore, Glamour, maybe even Swords), but I really vibe with the idea of Creation. I can’t exactly say why; maybe the idea of the ‘dancing object’ feature in Marisha’s hands is very funny to me (remember Keyleth’s adorable “Be Our Guest” moment? That, but this time it’s a walking wardrobe beating the shit out of the enemy).

Paladin (Oath of Vengeance/Conquest): As of yet, no one on Critical Role has ever played a paladin from the start, only multiclassed later down the line. I think this would be a cool departure for Marisha. Both campaigns she’s played characters that were either suspicious or at least indifferent to faith and the gods. Paladins are typically associated with deities, but they’re not tied quite so closely to them as clerics are. It would be fascinating to see what she did with it. As for the subclass, I just think Marisha’s earned her turn on the Goth Character Carousel, and while I know Conquest paladin is very unlikely given its moral grayness by default which might cause undue conflict and that Vengeance is a much more likely and acceptable pick, I just think it would be a sexy character choice.

Wizard (Bladesinger/Graviturgist): This is a much more pie-in-the-sky, wishful thinking pick on my end, but not impossible imo. Marisha has experience with heavy spellcasting already, so she probably wouldn’t shy away from a wizard, but like Travis I suspect she likes a bit of oomph to her characters, and probably wouldn’t play as support heavy as Caleb does. To that end, Bladesingers get a bit more survivability and some modicum of physical prowess alongside their spells, while Graviturgists are definitely on the more aggressive side of the spectrum for wizard subclasses, with unique dunamancy spells to boot. I’m not sure how restrictive Matt would be about Xhorhassian characters in the next campaign if it takes place on another continent, but hey, you never know. Plus, she picked one of Matt’s homebrew subclasses for the current campaign; it would be cute if it happened again.

Liam

Druid (Circle of the Shepherd): At some point before Critical Role comes to end (hopefully far in the future), I know Liam’s gonna play a druid, I can feel it in my bones. He's too big of a Kiki fan not to. However, while Circle of the Moon might feel obvious given the potential for homage and how much he likes turning into animals, I feel like he might regard it as getting too close to old territory (also, I don’t know if Circle of the Moon is like an exclusive thing to the Ashari tribes, and if it is that would be rather restrictive for building a backstory). If that’s the case, Circle of the Shepherd feels like the next best bet. It has some great support options via the totems you can put down, and rather than becoming badass animals, you instead just get really good at summoning a fuck ton of them. It’s like Frumpkin, but ten of him. And they’re bears. (Honorable mention: If Circle of the Moon would feel like treading old territory then I’m certain Circle of Wildfire would too, but I’d bet my dice collection it would at least be tempting).

Cleric (Unity Domain): Listen. The pure sap potential that would be at Mr. O’Brien’s fingertips with this subclass is incredible. The domain all about strengthening and protecting the bonds between friends and loved ones?? The domain with the Channel Divinity that can spread damage taken by one creature across the party however the cleric chooses to distribute it to lessen the blow to the individual??? The domain that used to be called the Love Domain???? I’m practically gagging on the soft moments and unspoken devotion conveyed through spellcasting already.

Fighter (Rune Knight/Psi Knight): Liam has yet to play a tank in a long-term campaign, and while I’m more enamored with the potential of the above classes, it would be novel to see him play a character with an actually respectable amount of hit points. However, I feel like if he was gonna commit to a straight frontliner, he’d probably want something a little more unique than a Champion or Battle Master (especially since he’s played those already for one-shots). Rune Knight has some fun options and built-in flavor, and with Psi Knight you can basically be a Jedi. Not bad options at all if you ask me.

Taliesin

Warlock (Fiend): Yeah, it might be expected, or Percy might have been too close to warlock anyway to feel like there’s new ground to cover, but hear me out. Both Percy (who, let’s face it, was a warlock multiclass in all but the actual mechanics) and Fjord were the classic reluctants. They got in over their heads without really knowing what was going on, and once they did they wanted out, cutting ties with their patrons and getting clear with only the scars remaining. I want to see Taliesin commit to a warlock in a way I imagine only he could manage to pull off. How fun would that balancing act be, to have a character that has no intentions of breaking their pact, who’s here for the powers, and is willing to work that delicate balancing act between keeping what he’s got and not letting his contract holder get the better of him? Give it to meeeeee.

Sorcerer (Psionic Soul): Psionic Soul has a bit of that eldritch flavor that vibes with Taliesin so much, with the added interest of introducing a brand new feature to 5E, the Psi Die (with this subclass, using them can do things like letting a sorcerer learn a spell they don’t already know for a few hours, allow you to cast spells without needing verbal, somatic, or material components, and can give you telepathy). Taking both Percy and Molly into account, it seems Tal likes to lean into those unique additional mechanics, and while Psi Die aren’t as risk-heavy as Gunslinger or Bloodhunter, they do add a layer of variability and unpredictability that seems to match his style.

Rogue (Swashbuckler): We only got a little bit of time with Molly, and so missed out on the opportunity to see Tal play a more cavalier character this time around. If he feels like leaning away from spells next time and back toward martial, I think a high-charisma, high-swinging swashbuckler from Tal would be a delight to watch.

Laura

Barbarian (Path of the Ancestral Guardian): Laura deserves to hit things, okay? Yes, spellcasting is great and comes in clutch frequently and Jester’s amazing, but you can tell Laura misses doing fat stacks of damage to the enemy in a single round. I personally think it would be amazing to watch her just cut loose and go full rage machine. As for the subclass, I’m not glued to the idea, but Ancestral Guardians are pretty kickass, have decent support capabilities for a barb without detracting from their DPS at all, and it doesn’t tread on any previous characters’ toes or their aesthetics.

Rogue (Scout/Soulknife): Laura deserves to play her favorite class at last, okay? She’s been class poached two campaigns in a row, and though that resulted in both Vex and Jester and I wouldn’t trade them for the world, Laura has earned first pick. Seeing as she already dipped into Assassin as Vex and Sam took Arcane Trickster, I could see Scout being a viable subclass choice. It’s in the classic sneaky vein, relatively simple in concept, but comes with features that grant easy-to-understand benefits that you can never turn your nose up at (boosts to movement, advantage on initiative, giving advantage against a target to everyone else in the party, etc.). If she’s looking for something a bit flashier, Soulknife has the benefit of retroactively dunking on Vax by taking the basic knife-rogue and making it better, with psionic knives that you can manifest with a thought, that can teleport you around Whisper style, and cranking up that stealth to ridiculous levels by just being able to turn invisible for ten minutes, no concentration or spell needed. The psionic die mechanics are a little funky of course, but I don’t imagine it’s any trickier than learning to manage all those cleric spells.

Monk (Way of the Open Hand): Between Beau just being super cool and her brief stint as Farriwen Breeze, monk wouldn’t be a surprising pick from Laura. An Open Hand monk might be the definitive version everyone knows, but you can’t deny it’s a solid subclass, and between previous overlap and the concepts of the other subclasses just not seeming to fit, I could see the classic being what she went with. But hey, it’s Laura Bailey. She could surprise us with Way of the Drunken Master or something.

Sam

Ranger (Monster Slayer): Let’s be real, I don’t think this would be his actual first pick for a Campaign 3 character, but the amount of shit-stirring he could achieve by making a character with the aim of pissing off Laura Bailey specifically would be hilarious (and since Matt isn’t completely opposed to UA and acknowledges that PHB ranger has a lot of issues, I wouldn’t be surprised if they went Revised Ranger this time).

Warlock (Genie): Actual first pick here, Pact of the Genie Warlock is confirmed by now, and the potential of a warlock in the hands of Sam Riegel is pretty vast (for some reason I’m imagining he would go the ‘spoiled sugar baby’ route). The subclass doesn’t matter as much, but the Genie one is nice in that, depending on the type of genie patron you pick, you can get a wide variety of extra spells, you get a container like a classic lamp or lantern that you can bamf into for short rests, and you get a limited Wish ability for your capstone, all features I feel like would especially appeal to Sam.

Barbarian (Path of the Wild Soul): I want to see Sam play a fairy barbarian. ‘Nough said.

Ashley

Fighter (Eldritch/Echo Knight): Ashley really seems to vibe with the crushing power of martial classes (she does love her brutal kill descriptions), so I could see her sticking with it rather than going back to full caster. However, I do see her picking one of the magical subclasses for some variety after Yasha. Eldritch Knight is a classic and reasonably easy to manage, but tbh I’d LOVE for it to be Echo Knight. And think, if my wishful thinking came true, with Ashley picking an Echo Knight and Marisha playing a Graviturgist wizard, they could link up their backstories and be a traveling Kryn battle duo that left their homeland behind to explore the world!

Sorcerer (Draconic): If she does want to go back to full-time casting, Sorcerer doesn’t require near as much bookkeeping as a cleric, druid, or wizard while still having decent variety, and the Draconic subclass is a bit beefier than the other subclasses. Also, it would be the third campaign in a row where Ashley Johnson’s character eventually got wings, soooo...

And tbh I have no idea what a third pick might be for Ashley, so I’m just gonna throw a dart or two at the board and say either College of Whispers Bard or Way of Mercy Monk *Shrug* We can only wait and see!

#critical role #if anyone else has thoughts i'd love to hear your guesses!

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optimistickidflowereclipse · 3 years

Text

So, I’ve never posted anything like this before but I actually write quite a lot of frostiron fan fiction that I usually can’t seem to finish (hi, executive dysfunction). And lately I’ve had this whump fic idea about Loki getting injured and Tony caring for him and I tried to start it but I’m not sure if this style even works? Anyway, here’s a snippet I currently have, maybe posting it here will give me some motivation to actually finish it unlike the others.

Circa 2012 (or alternatively post TR, but Jarvis survives and IW didn’t happen, at least not yet)

Loki is in a relationship with Stark and has long since become a part of the Avengers team alongside Thor. Tony predictably adores him, other team members except Thor don’t trust him too much but generally don’t mind a bit of magical help on the battlefield.

On one particular occasion they faced a group of (possibly Aesir) mages, so Loki took the leading role in this battle. During the fight he was momentarily distracted by Stark and as a result was repeatedly hit with a particularly nasty spell that on top of burning him was messing with his mind and left him caged in his nightmare utterly oblivious to his surroundings, which effectively translated to a totally defenseless Loki. That’s how the villain they were fighting had managed to pierce him with a sword several times before joined efforts of Thor’s Mjolnir and Stark’s energy blast sent them flying headfirst into the half-destroyed wall across the block, rendering them unconscious and ready for SHIELD to pick up. Or not, whatever pleased the one-eyed shadow master and his minions, Thor and Tony had way more important things to handle, like the stabbed delirious Loki bleeding out in the middle of dusty city pavement right in front of their eyes.

To be honest, when Tony doubled down on the power of his thrusters and rushed to the spot, choosing velocity over steerability after he had heard a crackling Clint’s voice drily remarking “Loki’s down” through his earpiece because to hell with his safety — Loki was down and he would never forgive himself for losing the guy because he was too afraid to scrape the paint of the Mark Thirty-Something, so anyway, frantically trying to reach him as soon as possible he was imagining many different things but he wasn’t, couldn’t, refused out of ridiculous hope and inexplicable faith to anticipate this.

Not Loki, his marvelous, strong, resilient, cunning, magic-wielding and supposedly almost immortal Loki lying in a blooded heap on the dirty concrete drifting in and out of consciousness, but never fully coming back to his senses. Even when his eyes fluttered open they didn’t seem to focus on anything in particular, blankly staring at the grey pavement in front of him before gradually closing again. But he wasn’t lethargic, oh no, his arms were flailing vigorously, albeit progressively weaker with each passing moment as the life force was seeping out of him, forming un ugly scarlet puddle underneath; his breathing ragged and labored; slurred, shredded gibberish pouring out of his mouth freely except for when he was choking on his moans whenever he clutched his bleeding flank too hard, probably semiconsciously trying to apply pressure to the largest wound, — all that made it clear that to his mind the battle still wasn’t over and that the agitated mage was desperately trying to fight back against some invisible enemy even if all it actually did was waste the last remnants of his energy in vain.

Seriously, though, why was there so much blood?

A heavy hand suddenly landed on his shoulder and shook him impatiently, startling Tony. He briefly looked up at Thor who had finally caught up with him before returning his attention to Loki who could not be possibly dying, no, it couldn’t be real—

The grip on his shoulder tightened. When did he even manage to undo the suit? His mind had no memory of such action.

Thor yelled something his brain failed to properly register and urgently shook him again and that gesture finally snapped Tony out of his horrified trance.

Loki’s moans were rapidly becoming quieter, his ramblings shorter and shorter. The puddle of blood seemed almost equal to his body and, if his extremely pale face was anything to go by, he was already bordering on the life-threatening blood loss even for an extraterrestrial being.

Wait a minute. An extraterrestrial being, of course.

“Thor, tell me you were yelling about Loki’s magic a moment ago”

His heart skipped a beat waiting for the response, a glimmer of hope growing in his chest.

“Exactly about it, friend Tony,” Thor hastily muttered taking off his cape and tearing it into stripes to, Tony belatedly realized, make at least some makeshift dressings for his brother’s wounds.

He really needed to turn his mind back on and help with something.

“So we don’t have to worry, his magic will heal him soon, right?”

“Were you even— No, Tony, that’s exactly the problem, that spell had somehow knocked off Loki’s own magic. I don’t know whether it’s broken, locked somewhere or simply busy fixing some magical damage, this craft has never been my forte. But what I do know is that he is not healing at the moment and if we don’t do something immediately we- he—“ Thor’s breath hitched and only then Tony noticed the lack of familiar green glow around the hands clutching the wound —“...then today might likely be the last time we see him in the realm of the living. Here, hold this end.”

A red cloth was shoved in his hands and he fought to suppress his instinctive urge to flinch away before clutching it because no, it wasn’t bloody yet, Thor’s cape itself was red for fuck’s sake, what the hell was wrong with him? Get a damn grip!

After using more than half of his cape on what seemed to be the most injured part of Loki’s body — his waist, especially its right side, Thor instructed Tony to keep pressing on the spot where the blood had already started to seep through the improvised bandage.

“I tried to wrap it as tight as I could manage but I am afraid it is still far from sufficient,” he said apologetically before turning to take care of a nasty looking, but probably less life-threatening burn showing through Loki’s torn chest armor.

How could the guy remain so calm around his dyi- no, nope, not a chance, around his wounded brother?

Or better yet, why couldn’t he be more like Thor?

Tony detachedly mused while grabbing an ashen restless hand to stop it from clawing at Tony’s own hand trying to save its owner’s life.

“I know it hurts, I know. But it has to stay like this, believe me, it really does or else you won’t even make it to the hospital,” he pleaded softly despite being almost sure of his words falling on deaf ears.

“Just hold on a bit longer, alright?”

The cold shaky fingers his thumb was tracing didn’t exactly incite hope.

But at least Loki wasn’t getting much worse. Maybe they were lucky and their feeble first aid attempts were actually working.

Soon enough the paramedics would come and he’d get an appropriate treatment, everything was gonna be alright.

Suddenly he remembered a tiny little detail.

Nobody had alerted the paramedics. As far as he could tell the line had stayed more or less silent for the last 10 minutes. Their teammates must have gotten all too used to Loki’s resilience and healing abilities and didn’t think much of his injuries, believing he’d be fine on his own. Oblivious idiotic bastards.

He had an important call to make.

“Jarvis, buddy?”

“Already connecting to Presbyterian Hospital, sir. It seems to be the nearest and the best equipped one.”

...

“Thor! What is Loki’s blood type?”

“What? My brother’s blood?” After a fraction of a second thunderer seemed to find an acceptable answer, “Why, royal, of course.”

Yeah, that invaluable info certainly helped a lot.

Tony got back on the comm.

“No, unfortunately we don’t know, you’ll have to figure it out yourself. Yes, sometimes people do get on the combat line without knowing their blood type, can you imagine?!”

Suddenly his frantic thoughts took an unexpected turn and his heart dropped.

“Um, listen, you do have some non-human blood as well, right? Just in case, you know?”

“...”

“I’m sorry, sir, I believe I didn’t quite catch your last question. If you are having a veterinary emergency we cannot really help you as we are strictly a human hospital, I can give you the contacts of this vet-“

What if Loki had some non-human blood type and there wouldn’t be any compatible blood for him?

It seemed rather obvious now, really.

Why would they even assume he belonged to a neat ABO system?

And Thor, dear Thor was clearly clueless about this part of their physiology.

Could they maybe use Thor’s blood for the transfusion?

He would certainly agree to save his brother’s life and since they were at least the same species there was a much higher chance—

Oh.

That convo in the lab.

Oh no.

Right.

They weren’t.

“... Mr. Stark? Mr. Stark?! Are you still there?”

“Huh? Oh! Yes, right, yeah, I am. We-we have an unexpected problem, incredibly urgent, I’ll call you back real quick. Send your team here, we’re waiting.”

“Mr. Stark! What are you-“

A loud beep in his ear cut off the indignant paramedic.

Think, Tony, think!

You can’t let him die!

#frostiron #loki x tony #fanfic #mcu #this was supposed to lead to Tony comforting Loki on their way to the hospital #and generally result in a couple of cute scenes #but boy had that escalated quickly #at this point Loki realistically shoud die before they manage to get him the appropriate care #but fuck realism #I’m the author and I’ll find a way to return Loki’s consciousness #somehow #because you can’t comfort a scared and confused partner when he’s unresponsive #also Tony freezing was never planned #it just happened somehow #tw blood #like a lot of it

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skinks · 4 years

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I see your “fake/pretend dating” scenarios and I ask instead of you: “we’re secretly together and desperately trying to hide it” scenarios

Richie and Eddie finally get their shit together a week before Bev and Ben’s wedding, and after a whole lot of arguing and contingency plans and naked, sweaty discussion, they decide that if they don’t wanna steal that hetero thunder, they have to try their hardest to act like they’re not a Thing

and it’s a mess. They spend the whole week of bachelor parties (Losers plus Patty sans Bev get sad drunk and wish Bev was there) and bachelorette parties (Losers plus Patty sans Ben wear feather boas and get sorority drunk with Bev’s fashion friends, gossip about Ben and sing karaoke) pretending they’re not sneaking off to bone in every unoccupied room they possibly can

It’s a MESS. Richie figures the years of practice at pathetic, secret longing mean they should be better at this than they are. Like yeah, they’re still hovering in this awkward limbo stage where it’s both terribly exciting and horribly embarrassing to be crossing meat swords with your long lost best bro, while knowing you’re both totally into it, but they already acted so couple-y beforehand that it’s probably WEIRDER if Eddie stops smiling all fond and fixing Richie’s hair, or if Richie stops slinging his arm around Eddie at every opportunity. But that’s letting their guard down, and they keep freezing and jumping apart in the middle of casual conversation. They’re standing with Bill and Audra and Patty and Mike in some hotel function room, discussing whether or not stealing Ben’s yacht is feasible when Richie oh-so-gently says “hey—c’mere,” and wipes a smudge of chocolate fondue (contains nuts!!) from Eddie’s mouth with his thumb. Everyone stops talking. Everyone stares. Eddie stares. And Richie needs to duck and cover so he sort of - slaps him? Not even hard enough to make a noise, it’s more of a tap-then-push. He pushes Eddie’s face. “Is that Staniel I hear,” Richie says, after a moment.

“I don’t hear anything,” Patty says.

“No no, that’s definitely Stan,” Richie says, backing swiftly to the door. Eddie’s eyes are on him accusing and hot, dark brown like the chocolate smeared on Richie’s thumb. Later, Eddie will suck the taste off where it’s stuffed in his mouth to keep quiet as they fuck below deck in Ben’s stolen yacht, Mike and Bill fighting overhead about who gets to wear the blue and white captain’s hat. Eddie’s pants are barely even pulled down. Richie does his Quint From Jaws Voice and goes duh-dun, duh-dun as Eddie pushes inside so Eddie will bite his thumb and fuck him harder. It’s all very undignified, and illicit, and stupid. Eddie loves it. “I have great ears, Pattycake, and Stanley makes this sort of, uh, echolocation type noise when he’s having issues with hotel staff. I should know, I went on vacation once with his family, to the Catskills? Stan spilled soup on a waiter and every bat in the fuckin’ place came right outta the forest and flew into the buffet. Don’t ask him about it though, one man’s vigilante origin story is another man’s traumatic childhood. Okay bye.” Richie definitely doesn’t run, but running away is more about aura than gait.

Audra frowns. “Did he just imply Batman didn’t have a traumatic childhood?”

“Haha,” Eddie deflects, stuffing his hand in his pocket, and missing. “He must’ve had the shrimp. Fucked up that he’s the one with the actual shellfish allergy, right? Isn’t that irony, or something?”

“That would be ironic, if you didn’t know everything we’re all allergic to by heart and would never let Richie eat shrimp,” Bill says, still staring.

“I would,” Eddie says immediately. He can’t find his fucking pocket. “I would totally let Richie eat shrimp.”

“You slapped his slice of pizza out of his hand last week because there was oyster sauce in the marinara,” Mike says, but Eddie is already actually running away. Wow, he’s fast.

Even with the Losers, Richie’s only out by implication, but it’d still be weird if he, for some reason, brought a woman as his date. He thinks about bringing Sven the Sound Guy because he’s as opposite to Eddie as it’s possible to find on short notice since Guy Fieri was unavailable, but he can’t decide whether this is genius cover or so on the nose as to be damning. He goes stag in the end, which is perhaps most damning of all. Eddie is in Schrodinger’s closet, because he doesn’t have to answer either way if nobody fucking asks him, and nobody does, because Eddie always starts doing whatever he’s currently doing to an incredibly intense level whenever the conversation turns to dating. One time at dinner when they were all in the same city for one of Richie’s tentative, low-key comeback shows, someone mentioned post-divorce dating apps, and then someone simply said the word Grindr not even in Eddie’s direction and Eddie cut his steak so hard he scratched the plate. This was an achievement in and of itself seeing as the clown took Eddie’s fork-arm, but Richie was spearing his steak for him while he cut it. He’s an enabler. An enabler to steak, and freakouts.

Anyway, even with all of this, it’s still weird that Eddie brings a woman. She’s Paula. From work. Stan sees her checking her phone so often that he figures out she’s one of the women in the matching white wedding dresses on her lock screen. Stan nudges Patty, who becomes very insistent that they should tell Eddie before he gets his heart broken, but Eddie is probably too busy periodically kicking out the backs of Richie’s knees to make him wobble and buckle against the bar to notice, or care.

Bev has great fucking aim, is the thing. There’s a lost catapult and a space-alien dead as a dodo can attest to it, but she’s still facing the opposite direction and could never predict that her bouquet toss would bounce off two different bridesmaids’ heads, straight into Richie’s hands. They’re so beautiful. White and orange and a rich, nautical blue that matches Eddie’s suit, tidily pinned up at the right shoulder and pressed hard into Richie’s side. Bev is laughing delightedly and Ben is taking a photo, and Eddie has been getting steadily drunker ever since he got back half an hour ago from gratefully sending Paula home to her wife in an Uber with some cake. He’s all pink across the bridge of his nose and he looks so fucking adorable with Ben’s blue and white yacht captain hat tilted on his head at a rakish angle, and the others are all catcalling so hard that Richie figures they might as well give up the pretense. He kicks out the back of Eddie’s knees so he’ll buckle into Richie’s flowery arms and fucking DIPS him like that old wartime photo even though Eddie’s the one with the sailor hat getting knocked off his head because they’re kissing so enthusiastically, clinging to the back of Richie’s neck and snortlaughing into his mouth, but suddenly everyone’s shouting, and they all sound - not pissed, exactly, but certainly indignant

“Are you guys serious,” Bill says, “you’re stealing their thunder right now? One major childhood romance realized isn’t enough, you’re gonna crash theirs?”

“Wait,” Richie says

Bev throws up her hands. Richie can’t see, because of her dress, but he’s pretty sure her foot is actually tapping. “Why didn’t you tell us!”

Eddie is still dangling off him like a monkey, all stunned-drunk limp with the bouquet shoved in his face. Richie hears what uh oh sounds like muffled by flowers, and Ben silently takes another photo, like he’s cataloguing a crime scene.

“You guys... didn’t know? We actually kept it a secret?”

“Until now, you jackasses!”

“What secret,” Audra asks, appearing with like eight plates of cake. “What’s happening? Oh wait, I’m caught up.”

“But—but—the fondue,” Eddie says, and seriously, it’s not like the clown ripped his legs off, he could try standing and facing this with Richie like a true bro, but Richie’s kind of enjoying the weight of him. Plus he’s pretty sure Bev won’t dare to go through Eddie to kill him, so. Human shield it is.

“What about the fondue?” Mike looks like he did after the end of The Usual Suspects. Like he’s re-evaluating every time Richie and Eddie left a room together, and wishes he wasn’t. “You guys are like that all the time.”

“Then why were you all staring!”

“Nobody was staring! It was a natural lull in conversation, we were weirded out that you were being weird about it! Have you always been this self-centered?”

“I guess so,” Richie shrugs. He looks down at Eddie, covered in pollen and thoroughly confused. He’s so drunk he’s looking kinda cross-eyed. “You hear that, dude? We were killing it, until we fucked it all up!”

Eddie grins up at him. “Good enough!” he slurs, and then lets go of Richie’s neck for a high five. Everyone’s gone back to ignoring them in favour of dancing to Journey, so at least nobody notices Richie’s so eager to return it that he drops Eddie on the floor instead

#this is so dumb but i made myself laugh #and im trying to get writing again by working it out through dumbass ficlets #reddie #ficlet

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astudyinfreewill · 3 years

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“look what you made me do” 2/? | masterpost

aka: me making taylor swift songs about dean winchester and/or deancas bc it’s what dean himself would want

second song on deck, as promised; this one actually has quite a few cas beats in it, especially at the start, despite it having a dean vibe overall, so it should be interesting. again, bonus fanvid link at the end <3

this is me trying

i've been having a hard time adjusting i had the shiniest wheels, now they're rusting

ok, we start off strong with a couplet that could suit either dean or cas. “the shiniest wheels” is actually a perfectly fitting metaphor for a show that treats cars like emotional avatars of the people who drive them (i could so easily go into a digression about how the same thing happens in trc but this is the wrong post for that... how do i keep finding myself emotionally invested in car-fetishizing media while barely being a can-drive gay myself). ANYWAY, the first thing that comes to mind is the impala and how it’s pretty much synonymous with dean’s sense of self, how it gets wrecked and rebuilt over the course of the show, often tied in to his emotional state. and dean, well. he’s built up a lot of trauma over the years, but he’s also just getting older, as humans do.

on the other hand, we could also see it as a cas line - he’s not as much of a carfucker car aficionado as dean but he’s an adoptive winchester so hey, it still kinda works (rip to the pimpmobile, gone but not forgotten). what i MEAN is -- cas has been slowly falling from grace ever since season 4. he was becoming more human in season 5 already, with a grim prediction of his human future in 5x04; then lived as human for a while in season 7; then became completely human in season 9 before regaining his grace. but in season 15, again, his grace was apparently failing (boy it would be SUCH a shame if that plot point just, like... got dropped... 😐). substitute “wings” for “wheels” and you get a picture of someone who used to be this unstoppable, super-powered angel soldier that demons cowered in fear of, but has slowly become more human over time. as for “a hard time adjusting”... well, cas’ journey towards humanity has not been the easiest transition: it’s come with self-doubt, mental and physical pain, and of course, as he learned about love: heartbreak.

TL;DR: LIFE COMES AT YOU FAST AND THESE GUYS ARE TIRED.

i didn't know if you'd care if i came back; i have a lot of regrets about that

‘kay, this next part is definitely cas. cas who, as i mentioned in the previous post, just keeps leaving, whether that’s because he’s sacrificing himself or taking off on his own. and because that typically goes over like a lead balloon with dean, either because it leaves him grieving and traumatised or it plays right into his abandonment issues (or both - hello purgatory arc!), cas would be tentative about coming back. it’s also very apparent that castiel feels like the winchesters only value him for his abilities and powers (and after all, he’s been created to be a soldier), so if he feels like he’s not being helpful enough, he also tends not to feel wanted (again: dean wants him to stay, but cas wants to be asked to stay). plus, we know every time they’ve had a falling out it takes dean a bit to get over his anger (“dean, i thought i was doing the right thing”; “yeah, you always do”) so i don’t think cas takes his forgiveness for granted, especially if he has lied to him in the process (yes i’m thinking about the mixtape episode). “a lot of regrets”, indeed.

pulled the car off the road to the lookout, could've followed my fears all the way down; and maybe i don't quite know what to say, but i'm here in your doorway.

here, again, the car can easily work as a metaphor for someone’s emotional state. pulling over to take a breather, to try to assess things from a distance; and with lookout points so often being perched on steep hills, it’s easy to imagine the sense of vertigo, your own fear and self-doubt almost pushing you towards dangerous, self-destructive ideas. and we know cas doesn’t do things by halves - when he’s committed to something he believes is right, he goes all out. and yes, that has led to more than one falling out.

but despite that - despite his worst fears telling him he should not come back to dean unless he’s “coming back with a win”, or able to protect him from harm (yes i’m thinking about the mixtape episode AGAIN), he does always come back to him. it’s the one thing that dean can always depend on, castiel finding his way back to him like dean is his true north. i’m here in your doorway; the please take me back once more is implied.

i just wanted you to know that this is me trying i just wanted you to know that this is me trying

(and dean does take him back, because however many times castiel feels that he has failed in his mission, he always comes back and tries again, tries harder, tries to make it right or do it better. and that’s something dean relates to - fucking up in the worst ways and getting beaten down but always getting back up, always starting over, always trying again. in fact, he’s kind of the one who taught cas that. and with that-- we move over to the dean portion of this.)

they told me all of my cages were mental so I got wasted like all my potential

ah, it wouldn’t be a dean pov without some good old fashioned self deprecation. “all of my cages were mental” isn’t 100% accurate in dean’s case because he has been dealt a pretty shit hand by life, but he also excels at self-sabotage. “I got wasted” is of course an allusion to his alcoholism, but then we have the clever play on words with “wasted potential”, which... hits close to home. all dean’s ever done is tried to live up to what he thought he should be, always feeling like he was falling short. never quite the favourite son, never the man his father thought he should be, not strong enough to resist hell, not the righteous sword of michael the angels expected, not good enough for the people he loves not to leave him, just not enough.

and my words shoot to kill when I'm mad i have a lot of regrets about that

...as i said above: though dean does always forgive the people he loves, it still takes him quite a bit to get over his anger at them. and when he’s angry, he lashes out, often saying things that come off cruel, things he absolutely does not mean. and this part reminds me, yet again, of dean’s painful confession in 15x09, about how he gets so angry and doesn’t know why (of course, the answer is trauma and childhood abuse; but he has no way to process that); and he tries to stop it but he can’t, and he always, always regrets it in the end.

i was so ahead of the curve, the curve became a sphere fell behind all my classmates and i ended up here

oh, dean. dean winchester with his ged and his give ‘em hell attitude. he breaks my heart. i touched on this in my previous post, but there’s something to be said for the fact that dean had to grow up so fast, he really didn’t grow at all in some ways ( “so ahead of the curve, the curve became a sphere”). from a young age he was shoved in a parental role, having to be both a father and mother to sam, which meant never getting to exist just for himself. which of course, in turn, means he never got to develop a healthy degree of emotional maturity. in “bad boys”, we find out that the only time dean even got close to being a normal teenager, receiving positive reinforcement by sonny and bonding with his peers, john ripped him right out of that safe haven; and by the time “after school special” is set in, he’s given up on ever getting a shot at a healthy environment, using denial as a coping mechanism by trying to pass off his and sam’s shitty, depressing lives as super edgy and cool.

pourin' out my heart to a stranger but i didn't pour the whiskey i just wanted you to know that this is me trying i just wanted you to know that this is me trying at least i'm trying

i don’t really need to explain this bit i guess, but it’s about the implications of how it can somehow be easier to open up to a complete stranger rather than someone you care about; and how for dean, who is used to frequenting seedy bars and dives, one-night stands are as much about comfort than they are about pleasure. that’s the only way he knows how to let himself be touched, seen, held -- because of course, “no chick flick moments”, and besides, we know that when he falls in love he falls hard, so it’s safer to just roll in and out of town.

the interesting part in this context though, is that “but i didn’t pour the whiskey”, especially since we know dean, like every other winchester, tends to drown out his problems with alcohol; so him choosing to not do that, and instead just look for comfort from a stranger (whether it’s through sex or just chatting away at a bar) is, in itself, a sign of trying to do better. because if there’s one thing dean knows how to do, is trying, and trying, and trying again. in fact, as i mentioned above, it’s kinda where cas learned it too. and we know dean is a stand-in for human nature, so of course, this is also a larger discourse of how humans are flawed and imperfect but can always improve, always do better, always try harder or be more. and maybe that’s what makes a righteous man, really.

and it's hard to be at a party when i feel like an open wound it's hard to be anywhere these days when all i want is you you're a flashback in a film reel on the one screen in my town

this next part... listen. i don’t know how it fits into the narrative of trying, but what i do know is i can’t stop thinking about grieving dean. about how every time he loses cas, a little piece of him dies too, but it’s a piece that gets bigger and bigger every time, carving a hollow inside him. it’s unsightly, it’s unforgiving, it’s raw - it’s like an open wound. and as much as dean has always taken on the role of the person who puts on a brave face, makes a joke, and pushes all his feelings down, well -- it’s hard to that; it’s hard to focus on anything else when he’s missing cas like a phantom limb. “all i want is you” which is to say i’d rather have you, cursed or not; which is to say, i need you. need you badly enough to see your face everywhere after escaping purgatory, just like “a flashback in a film reel”.

and i just wanted you to know that this is me trying (maybe i don't quite know what to say) i just wanted you to know that this is me trying; at least i'm trying.

so, yes. dean is trying. he’s always trying, even though healing and progress are not linear or easy. and he knows he’s got anger issues, he knows he’s bad with his words, but damn it, he always shows up for the people he loves, and he tries to do better, every. damn. time. partly because he’s us, he’s all of us, he’s human perfectibility incarnate; and partly because he loves cas so damn much and maybe if he gets it right this time he’ll get to keep him -- and i don’t know which of the two options makes my heart hurt the most.

---

fanvid rec link here! it’s only for the second half of the song, so the more dean-centric one :)

#spn #dean winchester #castiel #destiel #spn meta #deancas #taylor swift #lyrics #taylor swift x destiel #lwymmd #mp #this is me trying #long post

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seimeinotaka · 3 years

Text

Movie Review (Vil x MC Fic)

(Cross-posted from AO3)

His confidence shaking, Vil keeps pondering over himself and why he keeps losing to Neige. It somehow ends in a discussion with Ann about Type-casting, the role of an actor, and focusing on what is truly important.

Thanks to polyphenols@AO3 for beta-reading this!

The kitchen was empty, for everyone had gone to bed, having learned that crossing Vil and breaking the rules wasn’t something to take lightly. Twenty minutes before curfew, Vil was washing the cup he had just used. He needed water to clear his head. Beating Neige in the VDC, being the fairest of them all. He had these goals in mind, but no matter how hard he tried, it was never enough. The water from the faucet couldn’t flush his thoughts away, as it flowed down his hands, so cold but Vil hadn’t even noticed either.

“-senpai?”

Why?

Why couldn’t he beat Neige?

What did Neige have that he lacked?

The cute character he always showed? Was it just that? Something he couldn’t even work with?

The hero, the beautiful holder of the Legendary sword. That was Neige’s role.

The cold beautiful villain. That was Vil’s role.

The water stopped.

“!”

Vil suddenly realized someone was next to him, having been struck slightly by their elbow, as this person turned off the faucet.

“Schoenheit-senpai, are you alright?” It was Ann, who had taken him out of his trance.

“Manager…yes, I’m fine,” he replied, still in a daze. He hadn’t meant to get so carried away in his thoughts that anyone saw him like this.

He wasn’t as annoyed as before with her, since she seemingly didn’t insult him and had apologized for whatever she had meant to say, though he was far from being on friendly terms with her. She seemed to be treating him with a certain distance, since their discussion had ended abruptly when she stormed off. He was perfectly fine with this unspoken arrangement.

Ann didn’t reply to his calm reassurance, but her expression let him know she wasn’t buying his words. She could keep her worry to herself, channeling it to win the VDC instead.

“…There’s something I wanted to talk to you about…” she finally said, after taking a deep breath to break the awkward silence. “It’s not about Epel…it’s about you…”

For a second there, she seemed to hesitate. Actually, this expression was the same one she had been wearing ever since she apologized when they crossed paths. As if she had something to say but feared doing so. Vil had never intended to ask her anything, ignoring her gaze if she had nothing to add to their discussions or practice.

“…Go on.” He prepared himself mentally, he was going to end up annoyed, but if he didn’t pretend to hear her now, she would be nagging him later on. He could certainly do without that, so he would take the lesser of the two evils.

She took a deep breath, and somehow bluntly stated, “You are going to get angry at me, but I might have heard your conversation with that Adella woman. About a film where Neige Leblanche got the lead and they wanted you to play the villain.” And just as that, she looked at him, ready to face her punishment.

He would have actually punished her, if he hadn’t been taken by surprise.

“How…?”

He had been extremely careful in answering his calls, only twice had he been contacted, and she wasn’t around then. Had Rook told her something? Rook had fine ears and he might have heard the phone calls, but he doubted his vice dorm leader would betray him and tell that private information to her.

“The other day… at the end of practice. I forgot my tablet after we uhhhh…had a discussion.” She grimaced, and forced herself to look at him. “I left it there but you were talking on the phone and I couldn’t just enter.”

“So, you decided to eavesdrop instead,” he coldly replied.

“It was an accident, I didn’t mean to! By the time I had realized what was happening, you left the room and I didn’t know what to do,” she hurried to add, stepping back defensively. “I’ve been thinking hard if I should talk to you about it but… Whatever. You are angry anyway, so, before you kill me for eavesdropping, lemme ask the following: Is Neige really that good? Or was it because he looks like the good hero?”

She was extremely right in him wanting to kill her in that moment, though her second question took him by surprise. “What do you think, Manager?” He was not going to talk about Neige.

“So, it’s the second…. I had a gut feeling it was like that. I looked around the internet, he’s mentioned a lot, I guess, but he just looks cute to me. I honestly don’t see why everyone goes wild about him. But I guess he does have the appeal to play the good-natured hero, just as you do look like a good fit for a handsome villain.”

He certainly did not need to have her rub salt on his wound, it was bad enough that Rook would blab and praise Neige. Clenching his fist, he was wondering how to curse her to make her stop.

“That’s pretty disappointing and boring, actually,” she said flatly.

“…What?”

“What do you mean what?” She looked at him confused, unaware that she was the one not making any sense at all. “I looked up the Legendary Sword, it’s supposed to be a groundbreaking film series, right? But if they go for such basic casting, is it really groundbreaking?”

Vil stared at her for a moment, a mix of extreme annoyance and deep confusion because what did one thing have to do with another? Not to mention, it was a series he loved.

"Have you even watched the first one?!"

How dared she say that.

"....No, but that's not really my point."

He gave her a scornful smile, as he said, “Of course, Manager. Here you go again, please give me your opinion on things you don’t know the least about.”

"I don’t need to watch a film to get a sense of what they are going for. I can get the aesthetic they are going for, and usually that goes in hand with the setting.” She shrugged her shoulders. “From what I heard of your conversation, yeah I’m sorry, it won’t happen again, you didn’t get to audition, so they offered you the role. Probably the same happened with Neige, so it means they are basing the casting on your physical appearance.”

It wasn’t his physical appearance entirely, but she wasn’t that wrong actually. He was almost impressed she could have figured it out. And that meant he had to be more careful than he thought. Though he should have suspected something, if she managed to dupe Azul.

“That’s pretty disappointing, they aren't taking your acting skills into consideration. A true actor can make the audience believe in their character, no matter how they look. That's strength of their histrionics."

"Don't you realize you're being overly idealistic? You didn't strike me as the type," he interjected, arching an eyebrow. He wasn’t sure what she was trying to do, but he was almost curious to see how farfetched her ramble would go.

"But, am I wrong? Also, you got a point. The plot and allegiances, the roles of the characters shouldn't be spelled out from appearances. That actually lessens the strength of your acting. It kills the story when I can see someone and know exactly that he is the bad guy just because he wears purple and looks cold. That’s not creative, it’s extremely boring. I thought that as a fashion model and probably a trendsetter, you would prefer to break the rules."

He wouldn’t deign to give her an answer, but she didn’t look at him like she was expecting one.

"The fact that you said I didn't look the type, that's exactly my point. I prefer when my characters are deeper than what they only look. When they surprise me because someone looks cute but isn’t the cute type, that keeps me on my toes. To subvert the expectations of the audience, while showing them a story they can't predict, that's what I would call legendary. Surely, a movie like that should have a legendary casting too."

"I see you keep taking about things you do not know. You keep talking about a movie you haven't seen and the casting of a sequel you don't know."

"...You have a fair point, but I can tell that the casting is very safe. To cast the cute actor as the protagonist and the beautiful sexy one as the villain. They didn't really take any risks."

"Perhaps you weren't paying attention to what I said before,” he groaned. “You have to understand the visuals that suit the atmosphere. A group of elementary children singing metal will look off."

"I actually want to hear that."

"Forget it, your taste is too extreme to understand my point," he grimaced, giving up on trying to get through her thick skull.

“I guess… though I find it sad that for all the boldness you have, you’re stuck with mainstream ideals. Though it seems to come with the industry. They are the ones with the money.”

"Suppose you are in charge of casting, Manager. Do you mean you would have me as lead instead?"

"I wouldn't have a prince charming as the lead in the first place. But the role would go to the one who acts the part better. Not just looks."

Vil looked at her with a stony expression, somehow her words stung and he felt uncomfortable.

"Though, if we have a hero like that, to cast you as the prince charming, the good hero they are picking Neige for... I would honestly prefer that. It's a risky decision, and many would question your casting, but if you were to sweep everyone's minds with your performance, you would win even more than if you went with a typical casting. There's a higher risk, but an even higher reward."

"Fufu, you still have no idea what you're talking about. Unfortunately, as much as your ridiculous idea sounds compelling, the truth is, Neige was cast as the main character."

"If it makes you feel better, I can write you as a main character in a story I make."

He smiled mockingly at her. "Ara, should I be touched? That a mere potato acting as a manager makes me her main character in her story? Focus on your studies."

"I mean, we can’t change things now, but if you were the hero and people questioned it, it's your job as the actor to prove them wrong."

"You sound awfully confident in my abilities."

"Is there a reason I shouldn't be?"

Vil was taken back. That was the most unexpected way to compliment someone, though he couldn't say he hated it. That said, she was incredibly annoying.

"You do enjoy talking about things you have no clue about."

"What I don't have a clue about? If I look carefully at you, I can tell you've honed yourself a lot."

"...what?"

"It's the way you conduct yourself. To be this knowledgeable about food and skin care, about music too. Dancing styles, dance moves. There's a limit to natural talent. You could understand things in theory but you call them by their names, that doesn't come from simple experience. Your pose is always perfect, both when you're walking and when you're fighting. To be able to have that degree of grace, you can't always do it unless you've trained yourself to be graceful. I get the feeling you're always pushing yourself to be perfect in any way. No matter what. Like you could be wearing burning shoes and you wouldn't show your pain."

He looked at her, she liked saying the oddest things. Why was she focusing on that? Normally, people commented directly on his beauty. He wasn’t used to being told this, he was doing only the necessary things to achieve his goal. The obvious things that no one focused on. That no one praised.

You didn't praise the method, you praised the results. The finished product. It didn't matter if you did your best when you failed. The result was all that mattered.

Just as he couldn’t beat Neige.

However, her words made him uncomfortable. Was she offering a cheap clap on the back as his fate, and he hated that word, was to be the loser? Some cheap, meaningless sympathy as an equally miserable bandage to his mortally wounded pride?

"What is your game, Manager? Is this some attempt to get along with me to further your goals?"

She huffed, visibly frustrated and annoyed at him, when he should be the one groaning at her and her nonsensical questioning. "You know, you're really smart but you're horribly stubborn. I'm not dissing you. Damn this school. You're all a huge bunch of weirdos, you're always focusing on the oddest stuff."

"As if you can truly say that to me."

"Really? Riddle got so angry about breaking even the most ridiculous inconsequential rules that the Queen of Hearts made. I get things like ‘Don't run with scissors in the hall’, because you can actually get hurt, but the color of roses? The tea you serve after 6? That's just showing off your power in meaningless bullshit. It alienates people instead of making them like you. He is devoted and meticulous, except he's focusing on the stupid stuff.

“Leona is capable, he's actually smart and he could be an excellent student and magift player but he can't be bothered to do anything because he doesn't want to be compared to others. Well, duh, you're always going to be compared. Damned if you do it, damned if you don’t, it’s way better to be damned for doing your thing. The rest can go fuck off. It’s not like they are going to do things for you, and they won’t live your life.”

Was she trying to get on his good side by dissing everyone?

“Azul, for all the intelligence he has, is a big idiot. All the effort he made to hide his past, just to crumble because of a photo. Why would you want to alter it so much that you're no longer yourself? I don't understand. He could see how far he had come and how much he had improved himself, that the Azul in that picture, who was extremely cute mind you, would be just proud of who he had grown into. But no, he had to drag everyone with those shady contracts, trick everyone to profit off them, try to trick me instead of asking for help like a fucking normal person. I would have helped him without any of this idiot contract bullshit if he was just sincere and not an incredibly fucking shady yakuza.

“Jamil. Don't get me started on him, I'm still salty about it. It's a custom in his country, I understand that. His parents were in the wrong, I understand that but. Did he really have to try to fucking kill us? In the bloody desert?! Not to mention, he had Kalim, KALIM! Kalim wouldn't have minded that Jamil told him the truth about him having to play the incompetent servant when he's like a fucking genius. Getting average grades on purpose is really hard, you have to be super smart to do that! Hell, Kalim would have been the first one to support him if he knew the truth! Kalim trusted him, Jamil was his best friend. He even forgave him. With Kalim at his side, things would have been different. But no, Jamil had to fake this shady nice persona to get us to like him, then use everyone for his stupid nonsense and instead of talking! Like normal people! Attempted murder! Of course that is the right answer."

Her rant made him furious. It wasn’t her ranting about the others, as several of them, like Leona, were annoying in many degrees. It was because it showed how she saw the other students, and it made him wonder how she would later see him.

How would she casually dismiss all his struggles?

"I wish I had this much drive to care about stupid shit."

"You are exactly as Leona and Azul said you were,” he replied, wanting furiously to slap her, to make her shut up, “an obnoxious brat who talks as if she knows everything. Casually dissing everyone while supposedly praising them? I thought you were supposed to be a good quiet prefect. Your opinion doesn't matter."

"It does matter because when you die, you can't do anything of these things. You could fall off your broom next class, crack your skull and die, but all you worried about was an idiot meaningless thing, instead of doing what you really wanted."

Vil stared at her, shocked for a moment, her words a slap to his face. He didn't expect them nor the tone she used, a clear-headed but extremely heartfelt answer. It was rational, not spat out in the heat of the moment, almost a product of actual experience.

It was in that moment he realized she genuinely meant what she said before. She was genuinely praising his efforts, the things no one else even considered. And he wasn’t sure how he should feel. He was feeling annoyed, he could imagine her ranting about him next. 'You are an idiot, trying to best Neige in being the fairest.'

But what was the thing she would compliment him on as well?

The answer would have to haunt him, because he was not going to ask her about himself. He was scared of that answer. He was scared of being focused on something wrong, of being told his path was wrong from the start.

He had devoted himself to being the fairest of them all for so long, just to be told it was an impossible task from the start. The effort he put into it would be absolutely meaningless, as they weren’t in a fairy tale, and even if they were, they weren’t its main characters.

“Manager,” he said in a tone that he himself couldn’t discern. It was such, though, that Ann quickly cooled down from her rant, going from emboldened to suddenly stay silent, and hesitant. “I will not repeat myself. Stop talking as if you understand my feelings. You don’t know me, I don’t know you. All you need to know is that you have to devote yourself to the VDC.”

“But… I thought-”

“Yes, you always ‘thought’. Whatever you thought, you are wrong. Stop delving into others’ personal affairs.”

He saw her opening her mouth, but he wouldn’t entertain her any longer. She had damaged him enough, making him fear for a moment of his own goals, to let her destroy his shaking beliefs and crumbling confidence. With a fierce glare, hiding his inner turmoil as he had always done, the iron mask befitting a queen, he looked down on her once before leaving her alone, with only the wind to listen to whatever useless opinion she had to share.

This was a challenging fic to write given the limited information we’re given, at the time ofc, about Neige and the nature of the casting, as well as his personality. It was also interesting for me because it’s part of the culmination of the previous chapters. Vil is a very perceptive person and he would normally recognize when someone is genuinely praising him. However, in an overblotting state, where he is stressed and second-guessing himself, it wouldn’t be that hard to see that he finds it difficult to trust strangers, especially someone like Ann.

Ann herself is not entirely right either. She has good points about the others and about Vil, but she tends to see things from her own perspective and how she strongly feels, in particular to people like Azul due to her own personal reasons and past. Hence, she can’t sometimes really relate to things that oppose to what she believes and feels. Because she is also blunt, while well-intentioned, she can come off as obnoxious and intrusive, especially with how she words things. Basically both right now are not well emotionally and logically to reach an agreement and see each others’ points. But Vil wouldn’t be well right now because we’re in the middle of Pomefiore arc, F.

Thank you for reading!

#twisted wonderland #vil schoenheit #vil x mc #twst oc #twst

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houseisekai · 3 years

Text

FE3H:HI Shadowbringers - Part 3: Defenders for Enbarr

House Isekai Shadowbringers AU Masterlist Here

—

4 Years into the war, the siege of Enbarr has begun, with Dimitri, the Blue Lions, SEES, and Class VII rushing to its defense.

In the present, the mysteries surrounding the Agarthan helping House Isekai continue to grow, and the biggest question becoming more and more prominent: Why are they here?

—

Garreg Mach Monastery, Present Day…

Kazuma, Yuki, and Sitri rushed down the stairs to the entrance where everyone was readying their weapons.

(Aqua) “There you guys are!”

(Yuri) “Looks like it’s the Blue Lions up first.”

The former Blue Lions class walked casually towards the entrance conversing with one another. It looked like they hadn’t noticed them yet.

(Kurumi) “Wait, something’s not right. Why would they be just strolling right up to us if they were ready to attack?”

(Ainz) “Hmph. It may be possible they’re trying to feint us. We should remain on guard and-”

Before she finished that sentence, Class VII, Doomguy, and S.E.E.S came into view right behind them.

(Megumi) “They’re okay!”

(Cocytus) “DO YOU THINK THEY HAVE BEEN TAKEN HOSTAGE?”

(Sebas) “The Pleiades and I will move to intercept before they arrive, Lord Ainz.”

(Sharon’s Voice) “Oh, that won’t be necessary, Sir Sebas!”

(Kazuma) “GAH, FUCK!”

(Sitri) “DWAH?!”

(Yuri) “GODS-DAMN IT!”

(Megumi) “EEK!”

Everyone spun around but lowered their weapons once they saw Sharon standing right behind them with her signature unsettling smile.

(Aqua) “Do you REALLY have to keep doing that!?”

(Sitri) “S-She’s a friend?”

Yuri took a deep sigh and sheathed his sword.

(Yuri) “Yup. This is the retainer of House Isekai.”

(Sharon) “It is a pleasure to see you all again!”

Sharon bowed as the others finally made their way through the gates.

(Rean) “Everyone!”

(Minako) “I’d say it’s good to see each and everyone of you again buuuuut...I’d be lying.”

(Minato) “Tactful, Minako.”

Doomguy gave them a thumbsup.

(Dedue) “House Isekai? What are you doing here?"

(Ainz) "That's something we would like to know as well."

(Sharon) "Well, perhaps we can discuss this inside with tea once everyone arrives?"

Sara glanced over to the side and noticed Sitri.

(Sara) "...Who's this?"

(Sitri) “H-Hello...”

(Kazuma) "Oh right. Well, this is Sitri."

(Everyone) ?!

(Sara) "As in-?"

(Yuuri) "Byleth's mother, yes."

(Sylvain) “Well uh...That doesn’t exactly bode well.”

Everyone looked at Sylvain.

(Ingrid) “I’m sure we have loads of questions for each other, but let’s get inside first like Sharon said.”

They nodded and made their way to the Mess Hall.

After a few moments of everyone getting situated, they began discussing what had transpired for the past 5 years. Sharon and Doomguy remained near the entrance to keep a lookout.

(Yuri) “Good to see the Blue Lions fighting back in their own way, despite all the risks.”

(Dedue) “It was not easy. Especially with the risk of SEES being discovered.”

(Kurumi) “Oh yeah, you guys have been here the longest out of all of us right?”

(Minako) “Something like that. Mitsuru-senpai, can you explain?”

She nodded.

(Mitsuru) “When we awoke, we found ourselves 4 years later in the middle of Alliance territory. Fortunately for us, they were neutral in the war and we could move somewhat freely in towns. Claude informed us of what happened after our disappearance, and we were directed to help Dimitri.”

(Ainz) “So, what’s the situation like?”

Mitsuru paused for a moment before continuing.

(Mitsuru) “It’s far more complicated than we realized...”

The sound of footsteps came from the door, with Sharon and Doomguy in front of the newly arrived group.

(Edelgard) “More so than you could have ever predicted.”

The rest of the Black Eagles came into the room and made everyone but the Blue Lions, SEES and Class VII jump out of their seats reaching for their weapons.

(Yuuri) “E-Edelgard?!”

(Kazuma) “The hell are YOU doing here?!”

Dimitri appeared behind her and raised his hands.

(Dimitri) “There is no need for that. They are here as friends.”

(Darkness) “And...D-Dimitri? But...Don’t you-?”

(Edelgard) “Your confusion is justified, but please rest assured, the Adrestian Empire stands with you, not against.”

(Hubert) “If you won’t take our word, then perhaps your friends can vouch for us?”

The Black Eagles stepped aside and revealed-

(Akira) “Long time no see.”

(Yuki) “AKIRA!”

The School-Living Club were the first to lower their weapons, and Kazuma’s group and the Denizens of Nazarick slowly followed suit.

The rest of the Phantom Thieves went inside and everyone sat at the tables.

(Makoto) “It’s...quite good to see you all again.”

(Ryuji) “Heh, not that we had any doubts!”

(Kurumi) “How did you guys know to come here?”

(Kazuma) “Sorry to put that question on the backburner, but can someone explain what the FUCK IS GOING ON?! DIMITRI’S BACK TO HIS OLD SELF AND BUDDY BUDDY WITH EDELGARD, TIME SHIT IS GOING ON WITH EVERYONE GETTING HERE AT DIFFERENT YEARS, AN AGARTHAN BROUGHT SITRI BACK FROM THE DEAD, AND NOW EVERYONE’S TEAMING UP TO FIGHT THE CHURCH?!”

(Everyone) “...”

(Ainz) “...N-Not exactly the most eloquent way to phrase that but I harbor the same thoughts. What the hell is happening?”

(Rean) “Wait a seco-Did you say an Agarthan brought Sitri back?”

Akechi raised an eyebrow and turned to her.

(Akechi) “...Figured they had you six feet under with tighter locks on your grave this time.”

(Sitri) “This time?”

(Aqua) “We’ll get back to that later! Anyways, yes. Some Agarthan calling himself Lahabrea resurrected her with dark magic of some kind. We haven’t exactly been able to tell what he did.”

Dimitri put a finger to his chin before turning to Edelgard.

(Dimitri) “He never explained that he was going to do that before to me. What about you?”

(Edelgard) “This is news to me as well.”

(Megumi) “You...know him?”

(Dimitri) “He is why we are all unified under one banner to take down the Church.”

(Everyone) “...”

(Kazuma) “WHAT?!”

(Sharon) “Perhaps we should start at the beginning?”

(Edelgard) “Indeed, though I admit the details are a bit lacking from our point of view...”

(Dimitri) “Then I will begin...”

----

(Dimitri) “5 Years ago, after the Battle of Garreg Mach, the casualties sustained on both sides forced everyone to retreat to their respective territories, since no one could hold the Monastery.

Edelgard had officially declared war on the Church of Seiros, and by extension, the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus.

The Leicester Alliance as a whole remained neutral, though several territories flocked either to the Empire or Church whether out of fear, persuasion, or patriotism of their home country.

Without the interference or aid of the Alliance, the two sides could engage the enemy without holding back.

However, the most crucial part of this war, was due to the missing presence of House Isekai.”

(Kazuma) “Huh? Why the hell were WE the reason you all could duke it out with each other?”

(Edelgard) “Because you were wild cards.”

(Edelgard) “Your presence in Garreg Mach was not only noted by your classmates and the Church, but to the entire world. Whatever plans Rhea and I had planned were stopped completely into its tracks by your appearances.

Rean with Valimar, a massive Ashen Golem whose sword could cleave the strongest of fortress walls, not even including the skills of your Orbal technology with the rest of Class VII.

The summons of the Persona Users, who could change the tide of a battle within an instant using their full power.

Ainz Ooal Gown and the denizens of Nazarick, the strength of a Tomb who surpassed the strongest of this world.

The Doom Slayer, a name which even the demons of hell tremble to utter the name of.

Not only were you all insanely powerful, you all were unified under a banner not hung anywhere else in the world, House Isekai.

You had no allegiance to any nation of this world, and that meant you could end any of us single handedly.

(Minato) “We were a deterrence then?”

(Edelgard) “Correct. And when you retreated from the tomb that day, you had announced to Fodlan that you would wage your own war against everyone. Which meant that no one could afford to hold back, knowing you were here.”

(Minako) “Which means when we fell...”

(Hubert) “Yes, no one stood in our way.”

(Hubert) “Three years we spent our time fighting each other. It would have been likely that many more years were to pass were it not for rumors that troubled both sides.

The reappearance of a group of Persona Users.

(Mitsuru) “We were not aware that someone had made it here before us.”

(Makoto) “And you already know about our group so that means-”

(Dedue) “Yes. We confirmed it to be Yu and his group. They remain in Derdriu to protect Claude and investigate the Agarthans. But it was because of them that both sides rushed to finish the fight.”

(Yuki) “Huh? Why would you do that? Sure Yu and his friends are strong but its only one group against 2 nations.”

(Dedue) “Thankfully, it meant none of you were dead.”

(Hubert) “But because of that, that means at any time, you all could show up and put every one of our plans to ruin. Thus, the Adrestian Empire moved to strike first, going straight for the occupation of the Capital of Faeghus.”

(Dedue) “We moved to intercept their forces, and the Alliance moved to stop us both from intruding on their territory, which brings us to the Battle of Gronder.”

(art source:

https://www.reddit.com/r/FireEmblemThreeHouses/comments/jaaxlr/blood_of_eagle_and_lion/)

(Dedue) “Our armies clashed at Gronder and it was a bloody fight. The three leaders had nearly succeeded in wiping each other out then and there, but were stopped due to the intervention of a masked man with the former professor of House Isekai with him.”

(Megumin) “Byleth was there with Lahabrea!?”

(Dimitri) “It was those two that got Edelgard and I to snap back into our senses. They showed us what the Church and the Agarthans had been plotting behind all of our backs, and right as they finished, that was when our true war began. Agarthans began teleporting in from out of nowhere, decimating our forces. Then, the Church drew their trump card. Their “angels” descended from the skies, turning the skies from grey to a blinding white.”

(Edelgard) “I ordered our retreat from Gronder as the “angels” tore apart our frontlines. We had not formally made an alliance there, but in due time we would due to what was to come.”

(Minato) “Which brings up our part, I guess. A year had passed since then when we arrived at Dimitri’s front door, and we learned that the Church had imposed some sort of martial law. They would be spearheading the effort in the war, crushing any who opposed them. The Church seemingly multiplied in their forces, grabbing any able body and putting them into battle with a sword in the name of Lady Rhea.”

(Dimitri) “With Lahabrea revealing the truth to me behind the Tragedy of Duscur I had somewhat become clear headed again, knowing who our real enemy was. I was not keen of my people becoming subjects of a war not even against the Empire anymore. Rhea had become mad with power and obsessed with killing Edelgard and Byleth. It was then I sent a courier to Edelgard and Claude, requesting we unite our nations to fight the Church. All the while, we were receiving aid from Lahabrea, telling us where to go and such..”

(Minako) “From Lahabrea’s advice, we became the couriers. Slayer went to Enbarr while we took to Derdriu. It took us a month for our plan to help Edelgard to begin, which is when Class VII arrived.”

(Dedue) “We have acted as subjects of Rhea while moving covertly to aid Edelgard in the battle against the Church and liberating our people from their forces.”

(Rean) “This was all about a year ago. It was there we got a full picture of what we were up against and what made Edelgard and Dimitri set aside their differences.”

...

Year 4, Outskirts of Enbarr...

The spirit portal closed behind Valimar, as everyone was transported directly outside of Enbarr.

(Dimitri) “Amazing! So this is what saved you at Garreg Mach.”

(Rean) “It’s only used for emergencies since it drains Valimar’s powers greatly. That fight didn’t take too much out of him, but I want to say he’s about half strength.”

(Minako) “Then let’s not use him again for right now. We need a way out if it comes to that.”

(Junpei) “Holy shit.”

Everyone turned around and saw what Junpei was staring at.

The skies were black with smoke, as the flames from the city raged like a wildfire.

Multiple scores of Church Soldiers rushed through the gates as catapults fired artillery into the city.

(Sara) “Damn, the siege has already begun!”

(Dimitri) “Everyone, with me!”

[Tearing Through Heaven (Rain) - Fire Emblem: Three Houses]

City Interior...

(Imperial) “GO GO GO!”

Several Imperials rushed to the front with spears to meet the soldiers head on.

Ferdinand and Caspar moved with them and drew their weapons.

(Caspar) “Ah crap, they’re back!”

(Ferdinand) “Damn, the attack on the Eastern Gates was a feint!

(Caspar) “Well, no use complaining about it now. Let’s go have some fun!”

Caspar rushed headfirst into the Church forces with other soldiers as Ferdinand turned back to an officer.

(Ferdinand) “Inform the others that the second wave is approaching and we’re going to need reinforcements!”

(Imperial) “Yes sir!”

The officer rushed back to the first checkpoint while Ferdinand joined Caspar.

Bernadetta noticed the soldier first and her heart sank.

More fighting.

(Imperial) “Second wave incoming! We need reinforcements now or we’re going to get overwhelmed!”

(Bernadetta) “Aww...! Okay okay- U-UM, ARCHERS SUPPORT THEM! I’LL GET THE FORCES FROM THE EASTERN GATES TO REINFORCE YOU!”

The archers saluted and rushed out the checkpoint.

(Bernadetta) “THE REST OF YOU STAY HERE IN CASE THE WORST HAPPENS!”

The knights nodded and drew their shields and formed a blockade leading into the deeper parts of the city.

Bernadetta grabbed her bow and made a full tilt sprint for the Eastern gates. Part of her wanted to run away and hide but she knew she couldn’t.

Lives were counting on her.

Shaking her doubt away, she ran through the streets.

...

Akira’s eyes shot wide open when he heard a building explode, and stood straight up.

Looking around him, several of the Phantom Thieves were looking around the area with their weapons drawn.

They were still in their Phantom Thief outfits which meant someone here perceived them as a threat.

(Kasumi) “Senpai, you’re up!”

(Akechi) “About damn time, we have no idea where we are or what’s going on!”

(Ann) “It sounds like a war out there!”

Getting a better look at his surroundings, the room was absolutely massive, with pillars shooting up to the ceiling and red carpets and banners decorating the room.

(Futaba) “I’m getting a scan of other House Isekai members, but I don’t think everyone’s here...!”

(Ryuji) “Wait, we fell down into a cliff into a throne room? How the hell does THAT work?!”

(Morgana) “Not everyone is here? Then where did-”

KABOOM!

(Yusuke) “Now’s not the time, we have to figure out what’s going on!”

Akira dusted himself off and looked to the door.

(Haru) “Our orders, Joker?”

(Akira) “We follow Fox’s idea! Move outside!”

Everyone nodded and rushed to the door before it swung open with Imperials.

(Imperial 1) “INTRUDERS!

(Makoto) “Imperials!”

(Akira) “On me!”

(Imperial Sergeant) “Huh? The Phantom Thieves? S-STAND DOWN YOU IDIOTS!”

The Phantom Thieves were taken aback by the sergeant’s orders, and the soldiers’ looks of confusion.

(Imperial Sergeant) “You’re House...Isekai?”

(Akira) “...Yes?”

(Imperial Sergeant) “We’re sure you have a LOT of questions, but right now the Church is besieging Enbarr! We need your help!”

(Akechi) “Why the hell would we do that, you’re trying to kill us!”

(Imperial 1) “...D-Does he mean Garreg Mach?”

(Imperial Sergeant) “Listen...I’m not sure how you’re here, but it’s been four years since then! Right now, the Church is everyone’s enemy, not just the Empire’s anymore! King Dimitri is on his way to help, but we need to survive this fight if we’re going to get it! And lest you forget, the Church wants you dead too!”

(Imperial 1) “We’ve even met some of your class too. I-I can’t remember their names but, I think they had red armbands?”

(Kasumi) “S.E.E.S...Joker?”

Akira stared at their faces and it was filled with desperation. The sergeant didn’t had a helmet closing off his face, but from the sound of his voice, he seemed genuine.

(Akira) “Alright, we’ll follow along for now. But we want answers from Edelgard!”

(Imperial Sergeant) “Y-You have my word! Sergeant Percy at your service milord!”

(Akira) “Lead the way, Percy.”

[Tearing Through Heaven (Thunder) - Fire Emblem]

Petra’s sword swiped across the chest of a Church knight, and he slumped to the ground.

She plunged her sword into his neck then turned back to the others.

Dorothea disintegrated another group of soldiers as lighting shot out of her hands.

She knelt down to the floor exhausted.

(Petra) “Dorothea!”

(Dorothea) “Ha...D-Don’t worry about me dear. I’m fine.”

That was a lie. The constant fighting was starting to wear her down, not to mention she had to use her magic at full power to even take a single knight down.

(Dorothea) “We need to get to the others and-”

(Bernadetta) “GUYS, THIS GATE WAS JUST A TRAP!”

Bernadetta waved her arms frantically at Dorothea, Petra, and the other soldiers present.

(Dorothea) “-...Tell them this was a diversion.”

(Petra) “We are knowing already! We follow your lead!”

(Bernadetta) “Got i-WATCH OUT!”

A knight who had an arrow through his chest got up and charged at Dorothea.

Petra got into stance while Bernadetta reached for her arrows, but neither of them would be fast enough.

A pegasus swooped in and hit the knight into a building, crashing through the walls and taking him out.

A girl dropped from the Pegasus and shot a spell at the knight, igniting the whole building into flames.

(Annette) “Whew, that was close!”

(Ingrid) “Dorothea, are you okay?!”

Dorothea’s face beamed once she realized who it was.

(Dorothea) “Ingrid dear! Oh, I think I might swoon from being saved by a beautiful-”

(Ingrid) “NOT THE TIME.”

(Bernadetta) “Y-You guys are here already? Not that I’m complaining or anything.”

(Annette) “We had some help!”

Right on cue, Class VII, SEES, and the Blue Lions emerged from the Eastern gates, fighting the Church Knights.

(Dimitri) “Sorry to keep you waiting!”

Ingrid helped Dorothea up and looked around.

(Ingrid) “We don’t see an Inquisitor here. What’s going on?”

(Dorothea) “This front was a feint. Happy as we are to see you, you all showed up at the wrong gate.”

(Dimitri) “Damn! House Isekai, move to the front, we’ll secure this gate!”

Sara kicked a knight to the ground and nodded.

(Sara) “Got it. Come on kiddos, this way!”

As Class VII and SEES ran through the streets, Doomguy remained outside with the Blue Lions.

He destroyed the last of the catapults with his rocket launcher and hit a knight’s face with his elbow, sending him down into the floor.

He was sure he used all of his force to knock him out, the knight got back up as if he were only shoved down.

Doomguy then grabbed the knight’s neck and took off his helmet.

His eyes widened a little bit, then frowned.

The knight tried with all his might to kick Doomguy, but to no avail.

Doomguy had intended to just stun the knights, but after taking the helmet off, he realized that it was unnecessary.

With a simple pull, he ripped off the knight’s head and tossed his body aside.

He put the head on his belt and took out a shotgun.

Things were about to get messy.

...

Caspar cleaved a knight in half while Ferdinand put his sword through another’s chest.

Linhardt rushed to the injured Imperial soldiers and began healing.

(Linhardt) “Come on, stop bleeding, stop bleeding!”

(Wounded Imperial) “S-Sir...! It’s too dangerous for you to-”

(Linhardt) “Shut up.”

Hubert and Edelgard ran up to the front and stood in front of Linhardt.

Two knights rushed toward them, but were reduced to ash as a dark magic spel hit both of them.

(Hubert) “All too easy.”

(Edelgard) “Get the injured back to the checkpoint.”

(Linhardt) “Already on it.”

Edelgard nodded and held tightly onto Areadbhar.

Even more knights were pouring in, and it wouldn’t be long before the Imperials would get overwhelmed.

(Hubert) “I do not think you should be at the front. We would be acceptable casualties if-”

(Edelgard) “I would not be here if I did not have a plan to escape, Hubert. If I am here, then the Inquisitor will show his face, then we can-”

(Sharon) “Excuse me, lady Edelgard!”

The two spun around and almost jumped at seeing Sharon there with a smile on her face. Her wires and dagger were already unsheathed as she bowed in respect.

(Sharon) “Would you like our assistance?”

(Rean) “CLASS VII, FORWARD!”

(Minato/Minako) “ORPHEUS!”

Class VII and S.E.E.S ran into view and pushed back the knights, with the Imperials cheering at the reinforcements.

(Hubert) “That was part of your plan too...right?’

(Edelgard) “N-No. It wasn’t.”

Rean slashed away the weapon of a knight, only for the knight to rush Rean with his bare hands.

(Rean) “Why won’t they go down?!”

Minako’s persona blew away several knights into the wall to knock them out. However, all of them all got back up, weapons still in hand.

(Sharon) “If you would pardon me for a moment!”

Sharon shot her wires forward and wrapped a knight, making him trip.

Her smile faded away into a straight face when she saw the knight break out after a moment.

(Sara) “Huh. Didn’t strike me as the type to break out of YOUR chains, Sharon.”

(Sharon) “It is as surprising to me as it is to you, Lady Sara.”

(Hubert) “What are you doing, KILL THEM!”

(Yukari) “The hell, are you crazy?!”

(Elliot) “B-But we can’t-”

BANG!

The Knight that was fighting Rean now had a bullet hole through his head and fell down to the ground.

Everyone spun around and saw Akira and the rest of the Phantom Thieves with their guns out.

Percy and the other soldiers began moving the wounded out of the battle.

(Minato) “Akira?!”

(Minako) “Y-You just killed...!-”

(Akira) “Fight to kill, they aren’t human!”

(Rean) “W-What?”

The black sky suddenly turned into a blinding white, with the knights who weren’t killed yet suddenly twitching violently.

The Blue Lions noticed the White light in the skies near the main gate and began making their way.

(Hubert) “Well, looks like your plan is working after all, Lady Edelgard.”

(Edelgard) “So it would seem.”

The knights slowly began to cough out white blood as their bodies convulsed, with glowing white limbs breaking out of their backs.

(Akihiko) “What in the hell?!”

(Laura) “What’s happening to them?!”

The first one to finish transformation was a knight near Edelgard.

The knight had formed into some abomination with long limbs, wings, and a head that split into 3 jaws, the skin being a pristine white that showed no evidence of being even remotely human prior.

Sara was the first one to act, splitting it in half with her sword.

Sharon was the next, using her wires to enwrap a knight in mid-transformation and severing the head.

(Caspar) “What are you all standing there for?!”

Shaking off the initial shock, they begun killing the creatures that had just formed.

(Ken) “What are these things?!”

Ken speared one through the stomach as Koromaru summoned a persona and lit it aflame.

Ryuji hit one with his mace, crushing its head in.

(Ryuji) “H-Hey, don’t these things kinda remind you of shadows?”

Ann fired several rounds from her SMG and turned to Ryuji.

(Ann) “How did Shadows from our worlds get in here, and what are they doing in the Church Knights?!”

Fuuka and Futaba began scanning the field and sure enough, they were giving off the same readings as Shadows.

(Futaba) “How is this possible?!”

(Fuuka) “E-Edelgard! There’s a massive signature headed our way!”

(Edelgard) “That means that can only mean one thing...”

[Will and Reason - Tales of Berseria]

The creatures flew away from everyone and towards the gate, where a single knight with a white cape walked in.

With the skies so bright, the light reflecting off his armor blinded a few people.

Dimitri and the others stood next to Edelgard, realizing who was arriving at the gates.

(Dimitri) “An Inquisitor!”

(Inquisitor) “How troubling. I come to cleanse the heretics from this land, and what do I find? The King of Faerghus conspiring with them.”

His helmet shifted from looking at the rest of House Isekai.

(Inquisitor) “And the students not of our world to boot.”

(Minako) “You...you turned your loyal knights into monsters!”

(Inquisitor) “SILENCE, GIRL! These are holy angels of Sothis, who pledged themselves to defend our holy nation from heretics such as you lot!”

(Minato) “Don’t think Sothis would appreciate whatever the hell these freakshows are!”

(Inquisitor) “You DARE?!”

(Edelgard) “This world belongs to us! NOT YOU AND YOUR MONSTERS!”

(Inquisitor) “...Hmph. How very glib. I will make one offer, King Dimitri. Surrender these heretics to me, and I will not mention our encounter in my report. You are hopefully misguided with these...savages.”

(Dimitri) “These ‘savages’ are my friends! I will never! My people may have given into your reign, BUT I WILL SHOW THEM THAT YOU’RE OUR TRUE ENEMY!”

(Inquisitor) “Then by my right as Inquisitor of the Holy Church of Seiros, I HEREBY SENTENCE-”

(Akechi) “Oh, SHUT THE FUCK UP ALREADY!”

Akira and Akechi raised their pistols and unloaded all of their ammo into the Inquisitor.

He took all the bullets to his chest and fell on his back.

(Inquisitor) “...Hmph. I should have known that talking with such savages was pointless.

[Insatiable - Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers]

White blood flowed from the bottom of the helmet while sharp claws burst out from the sides of his body.

His legs began twitching as the rest of his body began to glow a bright white, and that light began to form itself into an insectoid like shape.

When the Inquisitor finished transforming, he had turned into a massive hybrid with the legs of and stinger of a scorpion, but the body of a human with soulless eyes with a golden lance and shield.

The lesser angels rushed towards the groups first, but were easily mowed down by the Phantom Thieves and Class VII’s guns.

The Black Eagles and Blue lions rushed in first ahead of their leaders weapons drawn.

The Inquisitor moved forward slowly, his legs skittering across the floor as he raised his lance.

The stinger impaled the ground, with Sylvain and Felix dodging out the way barely in time.

They were blown back by the impact of the stinger and the ground that shot out from it.

Petra and Dedue swung their weapons at the stinger, but the cut was not deep enough to deal any real damage.

His stinger moved back and dragged Petra and Dedue with him, flinging them into the air.

Ingrid’s pegasus flew into the air, catching Dedue by having him land on the pegasus while grabbing Petra’s hand.

The weight was throwing her pegasus off, and the Inquisitor’s shield arm rose up and struck them into a nearby building.

(Rean) “Valimar, what’s your status?!”

(Valimar) Awakener. It is likely I will run out of energy if I were to intervene.

(Rean) “Damn it!”

(Akira) “ARSENE!”

(Minato/Minako) “THANATOS!”

Akira, Minato and Minako summoned their Personas to fight the Inquisitor head on.

Rean motioned some of the group to follow him as those three kept him distracted.

Thanatos’s sword blocked the Stinger that almost impaled him while Arsene blew away the lance arm from making another attack.

The Inquisitor rose a shield without looking as the Persona Users and Class VII opened fire with their guns.

The bullets reflected off the golden shield, not even leaving a scratch.

(Crow) “Well, that’s just great!”

Fie looked at his legs and reached for her belt.

(Fie) “Frag out!”

The grenade landed next to his legs and exploded, making him tilt slightly.

(Inquisitor) “TCH, INSOLENT FOOLS!”

He spun his torso around with his lance aiming straight for them.

The winds from the lance forced Thanatos and Arsene back, lest their users would get blown back as well.

The lance stabbed through the roof they were on and the entire building gave out from underneath them.

Ashe, Bernadetta, and Yukari fired arrows directly into the eyes. They landed their mark and the Inquisitor recoiled in pain.

Dimitri and Edelgard held their relic weapons and jumped into the air, striking directly into his chest.

A bright light shone from where their weapons were crushing into him, and they landed with smiles on their faces.

It quickly dissipated when they found the Inquisitor still standing.

The wounds he had sustained were slowly regenerating.

(Akihiko) “Pretty clear we’ll end up dead if we keep throwing ourselves into him!”

Linhardt and Towa rushed to get everyone from the building who was injured while the others stood there confused.

(Shinjiro) “What do we do?”

...

After finishing off the last Lesser Angel, Doomguy looked at the bridge and saw a massive scorpion monster there.

His visor picked up the distinct red and blue colors of Edelgard and Dimitri.

The Blue Lions and Black Eagles tried rushing at him but that didn’t work.

It was clear to him that they couldn’t fight that thing alone.

Ignoring the sound of gunfire, he looked around for a way to get into the fight quickly.

And that was when he noticed a catapult he hadn’t destroyed yet at this gate.

...

(Rean) “There’s no choice! Heed my call...VALI-...?!”

In the sky, there was some sort of humanoid shaped person dropping in-

No, it was a person!

Doomguy landed on top of the recoiling Inquisitor, and shoved his wristblade straight into his neck.

(Angelica) “Where the heck did he come from?!”

Doomguy looked at them with his free hand and motioned them away.

(Rean) “He’s buying us time, we gotta get out of here!”

(Dorothea) “And leave him to fight that thing?!”

Doomguy activated a sword and jumped off his back.

(Towa) “I-I’m pretty sure he’s got this one! Now come on!”

Edelgard and Dimitri nodded and turned to the others.

(Dimitri) “Grab the injured and lets move it to Valimar!”

Before they could move any further, a black portal appeared in front of them.

Doomguy landed on the ground and used his massive sword to cut off the lower half of the Inquisitor’s legs and his stinger in one cut.

As the Inquisitor lost balance, Doomguy grabbed his Super Shotgun and grappled onto the Inquisitor’s neck.

The sword dug itself into his neck, and Doomguy used his momentum to swing himself around, making the sword cut halfway around his neck.

When he landed again he pulled out his biggest weapon, the BFG-10000 and fired a massive green orb at his center.

The Inquisitor’s upper half exploded into chunks of glowing white pieces, the body slumping over.

Doomguy sheathed his guns and was about to move in with the others before realizing the Inquisitor’s body was glowing white.

It was all the pieces he had blown and cut off, fading into bright sparkles before the missing parts formed themselves on his body.

The Inquisitor had regenerated his parts and somehow looked angrier despite the fact his face was incapable of moving.

Doomguy cocked his shotgun before a hand with a black glove and sleeve was put on his shoulder.

(Lahabrea) “I think you have done more than enough, my friend.”

(Inquisitor) “AN AGARTHAN? I THOUGHT THAT YOUR KIND HAD ABANDONED THESE HERETICS.”

(Lahabrea) “They have. But I have not. I’d rather you didn’t kill them, they’re too useful to me.”

(Inquisitor) “YOU ARE IN NO PLACE TO MAKE DEMANDS!”

(Lahabrea) “Yes yes, quiet down now. We will speak later. I’ll make sure your golem is with you.”

He raised his hands into the air and snapped, making everyone teleport away.

The soldiers, The Black Eagles, Blue Lions, and House Isekai in an instant left the battlefield.

...

Garreg Mach Monastery, Present Day…

(Edelgard) “...Lahabrea never did tell us what happened that day.”

(Rean) “We were teleported pretty far, to the point we could see the entire city on a hill. After a few minutes, the sky turned back to black, and he teleported next to us, telling us where to go.”

(Ainz) “But, a siege was ongoing wasn’t it? I doubt it ended JUST because you left.”

(Dimitri) “The only answer we got was...not to worry about it, which does NOT bode well.”

(Yuri) “What? But...We still have reports that you all are in Enbarr. It’s been months since you left, right?”

(Edelgard) “And that’s what has me worried the most...”

(Akira) “Lahabrea told us to come here first before we were to return, and he said not to worry about the time it’ll take to get us here.”

(Kazuma) “To Garreg Mach? What’s for you guys here?”

(Minato) “Well, first there’s you all, but I don’t think he accounted for that so...”

Minato turned to Sitri.

(Minato) “I think he wanted us to come for her.”

(Sitri) “I find that a little hard to believe, honestly. I’ve been dead for so long I’m not sure I have anything to offer with knowledge.”

(Aqua) “She’s not a fighter either, I’m not sensing any magic from her.”

Emma adjusted her glasses and looked at her as well.

(Emma) “Neither can I.”

(Ainz) “That doesn’t make sense. She was resurrected with what we’re assuming is Dark Magic, right? Then she should have some semblance of magic we can detect...”

Sitri examined herself and put her hand to her chest.

...And that was when she noticed something off.

(Sitri) “Huh?”

(Megumi) “What is it?”

(Sitri) “My...my heart. It’s not beating?”

(Sara) “...Just like Byleth.”

Sitri realized what Sara had said and turned to her.

(Sitri) “His doesn’t beat either? Then how is he...How are either of us alive?”

(Demiurge) “Perplexing. We’re able to detect life force from Byleth, so despite that abnormality he IS indeed alive. You on the other hand...”

(Kazuma) “Wait a second...are you like Wiz?”

(Albedo) “Who is Wiz?”

(Kazuma) “She’s an undead friend of mine, a Lich. If Sitri was resurrected by dark means then...”

Kazuma moved over to Sitri and grabbed her hand.

(Kazuma) “Aqua. Cast some baby healing spell or something.”

Aqua shrugged and did as he asked, a bright light formed from her hands and onto Sitri, making her hand recoil back.

(Sitri) “O-Ow!”

Kazuma reached for Darkness’s hand. She at first hesitated but when Kazuma raised an eyebrow, she sighed and gave it to him.

(Kazuma) “Drain touch.”

(Darkness) “OOOOOOOOW! OWWOWOW!-”

Sitri felt the pain go away in an instant when she felt Darkness’s life force enter her hand.

(Kazuma) “Sorry. And thanks to both of you.”

Sitri reached for her hand and stared at it in confusion.

(Miki) “Does that mean she’s a...?-”

(Junpei) “Holy SHIT, SHE’S A ZOMBIE?!”

(Yukari) “I’d hit you for saying that but...I don’t think thats far off the mark.”

(Cocytus) “THAT EXPLAINS WHY WE CANNOT DETECT HER LIFE FORCE LIKE WE CAN WITH YOU ALL...”

(Yuri) “Wait a second, you knew about this?”

(Shalltear) “It was...just a suspicion we had. We didn’t want to say anything until we were all here.”

(Akira) “Hmph. Fair enough. I think we would’ve done the same thing.”

(Kasumi) “Um, so getting back onto the topic at hand, Lahabrea made us come back for Sitri, who’s now an undead...But why? Why resurrect her at all?”

(Edelgard) “Not to mention how he didn’t bring this up until now. What is he playing at?”

(Kazuma) “And another thing. He seems to have a hard-on for our Household while the rest of the Agarthans just want us dead. I get why we’re important to you guys, but why him?”

(Everyone) “...”

A heavy atmosphere took over the room before Yuki spoke up.

(Yuki) “U-Um, excuse me.”

Everyone turned to her.

(Megumi) “Yuki-chan? What is it?”

(Yuki) “What time is it?”

Ryuji pulled out his phone and checked.

(Ryuji) “Hm...According to the phone, time in Fodlan’s about 9 in the morning. You forget something to do, Takeya?”

(Yuki) “Should...it be THAT bright outside?”

Everyone paused for a moment before slowly turning to the door behind them.

The outside shone an eerily bright white on the grass, and the wind appeared to stop blowing against the trees.

And the sound of footsteps seemed to be approaching from the main hall.

Megumi got the School-Living Club and Sitri behind her as everyone slowly stood up and reached for their weapons...

-----

Year 4, Outskirts of Enbarr...

(Lahabrea) “Yes yes, quiet down now. We will speak later. I’ll make sure your golem is with you.”

He raised his hands into the air and snapped, making everyone teleport away.

The soldiers, The Black Eagles, Blue Lions, and House Isekai in an instant left the battlefield.

As he turned around, another portal appeared beside him.

(Lahabrea) “I trust you find your new sword to your liking, Byleth?”

Byleth stared at the weapon. It resembled and functioned just like the Sword of the Creator, even down to the whip function. But...

(Inquisitor) “Y-...YOU ARE THE-”

(Lahabrea) “Ah, allow me to introduce my friend, good Inquisitor-”

The middle orb started to emit a dark purple, making Byleth’s reflection fade away into black.

Lahabrea looked to the side and saw Byleth’s white hair blowing back from the dark aura flowing from the sword.

Byleth’s free hand moved down his face, the Crest of Flames glowing a bright red and floated in front of him for a brief flash.

He took a step toward the Inquisitor, making him step back in terror.

(Lahabrea) “-Byleth. Wielder of many titles, Child of the Fell Star by the Agarthans, The Ashen Demon by Fodlan and yourselves but to me...

The Warrior of Darkness.”

PART 3: END

[Escape - Darling in the FranXX OST]

The forecasted rain wets us

What should I say to you, as you tremble? My soaked blazer is cold and heavy

I feel as helpless as a chick who’s left its cage. I felt that my dreams were on the other side of the heavy clouds

I digested only the sweet pain that spread in my chest

I wonder if it’d be better if I’d never met you

Hey, I can’t even see the stars

Hey, my tears won’t fall either

To Be Continued in:

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