#but yeah the deep lore for these guys continues to spiral

[desiredcrescent]

So ya like BG3 Characters?

I got encouragement from one (1) person and im ill with oc thoughts so here we go ✨ Maybe more characters to come but we're dealing bg3 here!

Always open to discuss characters with others, receive asks and the like! I just get very distracted so it might take me a few days to get to you 😅

have some memes before walls of text ✨

Farryn, Tiefling Wild Magic Sorcerer (25 years old)

If you think there's a favourite here on the blog ur right. this is my babyboy. He occupies my brain most of the time. First bg3 tav realness. (the art is by my lovely partner bwee)

- Romancing Astarion and Halsin

- Besties with Karlach

- Dancing around emotions with Wyll (The potential that larian purposefully stood in the way of actually makes me ill fr,,,, why did i not get the dance scene besties.... what did i do wrong...)

~~~

- Glass cannon who's willing to push himself to the limit (magical fatigue themes my beloved) to guarantee his survival. He IS reckless but he will make sure everyone gets out alive.

- He's a city boy stumbling around out here, Perishing at the rough and tumble camp life but he is also in awe of the natural world.

- He mostly acts with self preservation in mind, leading to him being largely non-combatitive whenever possible, or at worst making bold but necessary sacrifices for his and his companions' safety.

- Hates the idea of gods being these fonts of absolute rules and fate being prewritten. Hated everyone being on their god related bullshit.

- He will claim to be a hater!!! he is lying with his 20 CHA score!!! he is in fact a lover at his core. He has so much love for his companions and the world around him despite how it's treated him.

- he's kinda vain in that rich kid way, he has an appreciation for dance and fashion, definitely has standards when it comes to meals eaten too.

~~~

Farryn is the 3rd child to an influential Baldur's Gate family. He was raised in complete secrecy from the prying eyes of the Baldur's Gate elite due to him being born a tiefling. It'd simply ruin his family's image. His family were deeply devoted to the God of Fate, Savras, and in turn all were either skilled diviners, or various clerics in His service.

When he turned 11, he awoke to his magic in a display of chaos, and gifted the slight gift of being able to take control of the wheels of fate. His family then suddenly doted on him, believing him to be the potential chosen of Savras, and this being a blessing for new followers. Their dedication and warped ideas of Farryn lead them to trying to canonize him as some sort of figurehead on the day of his 14th Birthday. After the failure, they bide their time until Farryn's 21st, to try again. But this time he ran, and has been since trying to live in a world where he never truly existed.

~~~

Daeris Cylian, Half-Drow PalaBard, Oath of Vengeance/College of Swords (57~ Years old)

So he was conceptulised as: how fucked up would it be to play a dark urge paladin who fights so hard to keep his oath and yeah. answer is pretty fucked.

- Romancing: Undecided! the allure of Wyll romance is true,,,

- Besties with: Lae'zel, he likes her forwardness and devotion.

- He's not taken his bard levels yet but we're getting there guys. Fic incoming.

- Resisting the Urge (i might be splitting saves to have him break beneath the urge but shh not rn)

~~~

- Soft spoken and gentle mannered, until he's on the battlefield.

- Being a durge he's perhaps a bit too comfortable being covered in blood

- His two instincts being 'kill' and 'be killed for the cause' creates a guy fr.

- He'll never wield a shield, but he'll put himself on the front lines to take the hardest hits. He believes that if he gets hit, its one hit that hasn't landed on someone else.

- He tries to see the best in people, but the second they're responsible for another's suffering?? thin ice.

- Hot. He's hot.

- He plays the lute and violin but he doesn't know that. (calloused hands perhaps better suited to the delicate playing of an instrument, rather than the brutal grip of a heavy weapon)

- Martyr complex off the CHARTS. He will throw himself into every situation possible with little to no regard for his safety. He'll always take the opportunity to suffer in place of someone else.

- an "I'd die for you" kinda guy if that wasn't super clear.

~~~

Daeris awoke on the Nautiloid with the prayers of Ilmater rattling in his head before even his own name. He fought through the nautiloid, horrified at what was going on but unable to save anyone else or lessen the pains they were experiencing. As he awoke on the beach in the wreckage, he swore an oath of vengeance for those who perished on the nautiloid, to hunt down those responsible for... well everything.

Being quick to dedicate himself to Ilmater, he remembers pretty much the core beliefs, about shouldering the suffering of others and acting as selflessly as possible.

~~~

Cress, Tiefling Circle of Spores Druid/Gloomstalker Ranger (20 something, they never really kept track)

- Romancing: No one yet but they have eyes for Karlach

- Best friends with: Lae'zel and Wyll

- Not sure the split on Ranger/Druid levels just yet, I'm not a min-maxer with this stuff and its mostly based on vibes.

~~~

- Happy-go-lucky to a fault! They're so energetic and trusting but this comes with its issues.

- They're SUPER trusting of their 'guardian' and are grateful for some direction.

- Due to their mostly spore-based connections with the Myconids, Cress doesn't love talking. Their voice is often hoarse from disuse, and they definitely prefer any psychic or magical means of communication.

- They're in LOVE with the flora of the surface, they have no idea how to garden but they're so happy to learn.

- They're a psychical touch kinda person, purely because of the lack of it they had growing up.

- If we got one guy who hates gods (Farryn) and a guy who's whole thing is abt his relationship to a god (Daeris), Cress is the guy who simply is a bit clueless on the gods. They live under a rock in those terms. They've read books on some gods but that's probably as far as they've gotten.

- They literally want everyone to like them sooo much.

~~~

Cress is a tiefling who, after being abandoned by their parents at a young age, found themselves scared and alone in the Underdark.

They were just a child stumbling around, and happened upon the Myconid Colonies. Being a child who didn't particularly understand, they just saught shelter and community. And the Myconids offered them this, wearily at first, but as soon as it was clear this child wasn't really going to mean them harm, it was an easy enough transition. Being raised by Myconids was a strange one, perhaps distant in a way but Cress only yearned for acceptance, which they offered freely.

As they grew older, they conversed with outsiders and assisted adventurers and acted as the go to for vibe checking those who wished to temporarily stay in the Myconids' company. They also became an expert navigator for lost adventurers, only asking for seemingly meaningless trinkets from the surface. On one such trip up to the surface, they found themselves snatched up by a nautiloid, and the adventure begins from here.

~~~

Honourary mention to my bastard (affectionate) Serene- I'm just eepy otherwise I'd do a full breakdown.

He's a Knowledge domain cleric to Mystra because i want to menace Gale personally. He's in my co-op game with my lovely partner and between the two of us we've made our tavs the good ol Excited Labrador and Black Cat friendship. Serene is relatively fearless which doubles up as his greatest flaw. idiot for the sake of research and curiosity. the weird hateful yaoi they could have with gale is definitely compelling

~~~

#farryn (tav) #daeris (durge) #Cress (Tav) #Serene (Tav) #I've got a type of character i make and its largely lovers in any form #but yeah the deep lore for these guys continues to spiral #I'll have to remember to take screenshots more often especially with Daeris <3 #man on the verge #Also big up Neon's hair pack I'm using for Serene for this screenshot #hot <3

[ranboo5]

Anon ask received 2 main regarding early/pre-LM disc: (ask and response both under the cut bc uh . Long)

Hey! I saw you requests lore questions So my questions r like , how come c!dream is so unfair(?) to c!tommy in those disc streams, ik he stole and griefed but everyone did plus if its about ctommy killing him, csapnap also killed him and cdream killed ctommy in the stream previously to it. How come cdream confiscates the discs despite csapnap being the one to drag ctommy into this, as well as admit to cdream he started it. Ctommy even says "dream just threatened to burn my discs because of what you said, sapnap" Yet cdream blames ctommy. Why do you think this is in ur opinion? (Im just curiois about cdreams perspective from diff peoples takes cuz its interesting to me ) Also do you believe that cprimeboys were friends in this era (pre-lmanberg) Because it seems a if cdream rlly tried to befriend ctommy as again the stream previous to disc battle one has cdream helping ctommy the whole time (despite seeming threatening at first glance). And a few streams later, he says "tommy is under my protection" saving him from csapnap. What are your thoughts? And what do you think cdreams intentions and motives are here. Do you think he was justified? Was he controlling? Whats his perspective here?

Okay so I don't have a great amount to say here necessarily 'cause Angela is much more of a Dream lore knower than I and in big part I can kind of just agree: cDream is irrational and paranoid, just knew cSapnap better at the time, and cTmmy as a variable having more unknowns made cDream freak out abt him

(dropping tags but continuing 2 b c!, /RP etc)

In terms of motive like . Okay and here I go into a little less just repeating what Angela said I hope but like

Controlling, yeah, I think is a pretty good way 2 put it; Dream has a lot of immediate objection when stuff appears to spiral out of a controlled environment but what's kind of interesting is it's less even about his control personally and more the right kind of control in general ? Like it's less even that Dream sees himself as particularly deserving and more that Dream has a way he thinks the world is supposed to work and when that is threatened he flips out. Dream assuming controlling roles is thus less for self enrichment like w/ some characters and more for what he sees as the sanctity of The Way The World Should Work; the fact that it's him doing it is kind of a similar "why am I the only one who seems to actually get it" to Ranboo (you know the ranboo5 blog has 2 say it) (also smth smth "would do anything and everything" WHO SAID THAT !!)

The main difference in that sense is while Ranboo (like Techno) evolves his perception of what that should be intentionally, keeps to its intent but actually develops it w/ what it sees and experiences, all the change in Dream's perception of what's right and good is from the natural distortion that happens when you spend 40000 years chasing an ideal At Any Cost w/o really examining it Dream hangs on 2 this greater vision of how the world works that seems obvious to him with this childish insistence like a kid who is really frustrated at why people consistently threaten his playground rules like that's why I keep making Reddit moderator jokes abt him the power trip is secondary as a result of this deep controlling petty rage at the violation of a poorly defined social status quo of a small group of people and when his friends do it that's annoying but it's one thing it's his friends he can talk to them offline and at this point the resistance is petty and the ecosystem of the subreddit, crucially, is stable, but then when this new guy shows up and doesn't respond to moderation at all Dream loses it. You are Destroying This Community. And he doesn't stop 2 think about those rules being poorly defined and more poorly enforced as much as he feels that what he thinks was stable is now being, in his eyes, interfered with. It's a combination of major blind spots in reasoning (as you and Angela and others have pointed out when you try to consistently codify Dream's ideas they fall apart real fast) and a refusal to accept change and, following from those, that the idea of what is right and what a stable community looks like has to change as that community grows

TL;DR: Dream is childish and uninterested in understanding how the world around him actually works as much as his ideals about how it should work and is trying to bring it "back in tune" with an imagined order in that sense and always kind of has been even though it's never really been "in tune" with it and the order in question doesn't actually make sense

#This is not coherent but it's my read as a cRanb lorehead and a political read madman #These r the thoughts..... it's all I can give #I love to talk about . Lore

[legends-live-in-memories]

Talk So Pretty, But Your Heart Got Teeth

AYO another day another oneshot as a part of the MGI Trope Tussle! BUT WAIT THERES MORE thanks to @nightlychaotic for letting me continue her oneshot that can be found HERE! 

Fics Masterlist

Dickinette Oneshot 2.8K words 

Summary:

“Nightwing was desperate to figure out Kit Noire. For reasons beyond professional.” 

without further ado:

Some days, you're the only thing I know

Only thing that's burning when the nights grow cold

Can't look away, can't look away

Beg you to stay, beg you to stay, yeah

It had been two weeks since Nightwing had last seen Kit Noire. While the lack of thefts and reported break-ins was doing wonders for his day job, he found his nightlife severely lacking its usual luster. He had done some research into her powers, cross-referencing with some of his more magically inclined coworkers. Aquaman had an interesting story about some god of destruction but it was Atlantean lore that led nowhere. He was drawing blanks on what his next move was going to be. Conflicted on whether to bring her to justice or to help her get justice. 

His team was of no help either. Batman was adamant on chasing her out of Gotham, her destructive powers too dangerous in the city, while his siblings were more engrossed in teasing him about his affections for the cat thief. Jabs about ‘learned behaviour’ and ‘truly being the next Batman’ went ignored for his own piece of mind. He loathed to admit it but his intrigue in her, his adamance to be involved with her case, stemmed from less professional intentions. He was compromised in this investigation but he was unwilling to relent to anyone else.

Kit Noire was his to solve. 

Sometimes, you're a stranger in my bed

Don't know if you love me or you want me dead

Push me away, push me away

Then beg me to stay, beg me to stay, yeah

He finally found her one night by the Gotham Harbour. She was in the middle of an altercation with the same guy who had stolen some grimoire from her. ‘Guardian’ he had called her. 

Rather than intervene immediately, Nightwing hung back in the shadows, observing the two of them. The man was obviously much older than her and was particularly equipped to combat her style of fighting. He used what appeared to be a wooden staff and was dressed in Buddhist-inspired robes. Another piece to add into his investigation. 

Their fight was approaching a stalemate, neither willing to yield to the other. Nightwing decided to make his presence known. A couple smoke bombs were tossed into the fray, halting the fight. Taking the opening, he jumped in between and threw two bolas at the old man. He was wrapped securely in the wires and collapsed gracelessly on the planks. Not giving him anymore attention, he moved to intercept Kit Noire; choosing the evil he knew over the one he didn’t.

“Sorry, songbird.” She spoke with more bite than usual, her frustration with the older man still clinging to her. “But I already have plans tonight. None that involves you sadly.”

“What?” His casual drawl, partnered with his carefully crafted smirk did nothing to placate the hissing cat in his arms. “I can’t let the kitty have all the fun.”

“Please,” she scoffs; she slackens in his hold only fractionally. “As if I need a little birdy like you to give me permission to do anything.”

She slipped under his grasp and shot a leg up directly into his chin. He was taken completely by surprise and before he could react, one of his own smoke bombs was thrown at his feet. He was disoriented and by the time he switched his mask to infrared, she was already gone with the older man. His discarded bolas were the only thing that remained between the clearing haze of smoke.

Call me in the morning to apologize

Every little lie gives me butterflies

Something in the way you're looking through my eyes

Don't know if I'm gonna make it out alive

He was pulling into the precinct parking lot for his morning shift with a poorly concealed bruise on his jaw and excuses already on his tongue for how it got there. His ego wasn’t fairing much better but that was concerns for his punching bag back at his home gym. Now, he was Dick Grayson, rookie cop at the GCPD. Now, his nighttime problems can’t reach him.

Or so he thought.  

He didn’t make it ten feet into the building before detective Montoya was slamming a file into his chest. He quickly glanced into the file, partially listening to her debriefing of the case, then immediately wished he hadn’t. In the file there were pictures taken from the most recent crime scene and sitting on top of the pile was a picture of a wall from the local aviary. The words ‘Sorry about last night, Songbird -KN’ were spray painted in steel blue. 

He felt his irritation flare as heat crept up his neck while a weight settled in the base of his spine. His warring feelings drowned out everything around him as he fixated on her very obvious declaration. Kitty Noire had been gaining infamy for never being caught by both the cops and the bats. Some in the precinct hadn’t believed she was actually real, just some urban legend the streets were stirring up to cause trouble. To let herself be caught like this, and to admit to contact with one of the bats— it didn’t take a genius to guess which side of the law she was calling out with ‘songbird’— was damning to say the least. 

Fight so dirty, but your love's so sweet

Talk so pretty, but your heart got teeth

Late night devil, put your hands on me

And never, never, never ever let go

Fight so dirty, but your love's so sweet

Talk so pretty, but your heart got teeth

Late night devil, put your hands on me

And never, never, never ever let go

It was another week before he was crashing into her midleap, throwing both of them down onto the nearest roof. They rolled a couple of times before he stopped them by pinning her down. Both of her arms were held above her head; his grips were tight around her wrists, avoiding her palms in fear of what her destructive powers could do. They were on top of the platform that had the doorway to the building’s stairs. Her distracting smirk curled up further as she was about to speak. Probably a suggestive comment but he wasn’t in the mood for their usual back and forth.

“Enough games, Noire.” He shifted his knees to brace on her shins, in case she had any ideas. “You need to tell me what’s going on. You’re bringing suspicious people into the city, dangerous people, and it’s my job to drive them out.”

“I’m not bringing anyone into the city,” she all but spat at him, the fury in her eyes burned bright at the accusation. “He tracked me here.”

“And he is…?” He was getting tired of being out of the loop, meta-abilities and magic are safety hazards if left unchecked in Gotham. He needs to put a lid on this before it spirals any further.

“He is my business and soon to be not a problem for the both of us.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“You have no other choice, songbird. Above your paygrade, remember?” She mumbles something he doesn’t hear but from the shape of her lips it looked like Cataclysm. He didn’t have time to react before the roof was caving in under them. 

The freefall was disorienting but he could see from his periphery that Kit Noire was prepared. She had extended her staff out to fit between two walls and was hanging on, dangling over what was probably twenty flights of steps. Nightwing wasn’t so lucky and he had to angle his fall to crash into steps a couple flights below her.  

“It was nice crashing into you, songbird, but I have things to steal and people to rob.” Retracting her staff, she let herself freefall to the bottom floor of the building. Nightwing dove after her, shooting out his grappling line to one of the higher railings. She had reextended her staff, this time aiming for the height of the building, and was sliding down it like a pole. Banishing the improper thoughts of ‘Noire’ and ‘pole,’ he questioned how the staff was even able to extend that far. 

Right, magic.

Once they were more comfortable feet above the bottom floor, she paused in her descent and let him over take her. He wasn’t given a chance to question her actions as she immediately swiped at his grappling line, snapping it with her rather sharp claws. This time he was prepared enough to brace himself for the fall. He landed on his feet and crouched to roll out of the harsh impact.

“I thought it was cats that landed on their feet, not birds,” her jeer echoed against the walls. He looked back up to see her rapidly climbing her staff. She was gaining distance fast and he was running out of options just as quickly. He didn’t trust climbing her staff so he took to climbing the steps from the railings, jumping and swinging himself around to gain altitude.

“Maybe you’re rubbing off on me.” She had made it to the door that led back to the roof and her staff retracted in an instant. He was still a couple flights away but he knew he wasn’t going to catch her. He resigned himself to knowing that tonight was another failed night. He had let her go again.

Some days, you're the best thing in my life

Sometimes when I look at you, I see my wife

Then you turn into somebody I don't know

And you push me away, push me away, yeah

Something Kit Noire had said was bothering him. She said she was a hero once. That she had given it up because of accusations that ruined her reputation. He had half a mind to not believe her. Write it off as one of her tricks to try and get under his skin. But the other half, the louder, more desperate half, implored him to keep searching. To uncover the cat themed enigma he had grown frustratingly fond of. 

He expanded his search, looking for anything or anyone cat themed with destructive powers. A deep web search had him discovering an old video. It was labeled ‘Reflectdoll’ and nothing else. It was a part of some long forgotten blog that had an entire catalogue of videos labeled in similarly vague ways. Desperate for answers, he rationalised that if anything else, he would cross this source and narrow the search further.

The video was quite the fanfare, looking something out of a movie with impressive CGI. He was about to label this video as another bust but something paused him in his tracks. Her. Kit Noire, or at least a younger version of her, lept into the action. Her and some ladybug patterned partner dealt with the fiasco and Nightwing watched, enthralled and hopeful, as the two worked to take down the foe. He was both impressed and even more confused because he recognised that infamous tower but had no memories of there ever being attacks of that caliber in the city of love. He had done several missions there over the years, and there was never any call for help or an attack to get his or the League’s attention.   

Just what was going on? 

Call me in the morning to apologize

Every little lie gives me butterflies

Something in the way you're looking through my eyes

Don't know if I'm gonna make it out alive

Fight so dirty, but your love's so sweet

Talk so pretty, but your heart got teeth

Late night devil, put your hands on me

And never, never, never ever let go

He had her pinned again, one of his hands holding both of hers above her head, the other was fisting her braid in a tight pin. They were staring at each other, neither wanting to tip the scales in their own favor. The air was charged and each breath felt like one step closer to a dangerous precipice. Nightwing was struggling with what to do. He had a responsibility to this city. This was his home. And he was letting some magical ex-hero trample all over it because he let his infatuation get to his head. He was too involved but he didn’t care. She was his case to solve. 

“Something you would like to share, songbird?” Her smirk was enticing and infuriating. He couldn’t look away. 

“I have a lot on my mind.”

“What? Is keeping me here not entertaining enough for you?”

“I’m not keeping you here for entertainment.”

“That could be rearranged.” She had surged up to kiss him, her lips soft and inviting. He would be a fool to pass up the opportunity.

Blood on my shirt, rose in my hand

You're looking at me like you don't know who I am

Blood on my shirt, heart in my hand

Still beating

She was hurt. The old man found her again and left her with a painful reminder of who she was up against. Nightwing wished he could track him down and beat him to bloody pulp but right now he was more concerned with patching her up. She was lucky he found her when he did. The gash on her side would be easy to stitch but he first needed to get her to somewhere safe. His options were limited. No clinic would take them in, she was still a notorious criminal after all. Batman would have his head if he brought her to any of their safe houses. The cave was completely out of the question. 

But she was still losing blood. 

“Why the long face, songbird?” Her voice which was usually jovial was tinted with strain. 

“Oh, you know, just getting blood on my suit while a cat bleeds out in my lap.” He tried to lighten the mood and her chuckles were relieving. 

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Just need to find somewhere to put you.”

“Oh, is the birdy worried about his kitty cat?” She was teasing him, he knew, so he decided playing along would do more for his own peace of mind than trying to refute.

“And if he is?” He mirrored her own joking tone but he couldn’t help the taxes of sincerity that slipped in. She caught on if the slight widening of her eyes were an indicator.

“Oh.” The stunned look she had on her face would be adorable if it weren’t for their situation. “I have a place, not far from here you can drop me off there.”

“Lead the way,” he said, picking her up bridal style. If he pulled her closer as she wrapped her arms around his neck then no one had to know.  

Fight so dirty, but your love's so sweet

Talk so pretty, but your heart got teeth

Late night devil, put your hands on me

And never, never, never ever let go

Fight so dirty, but your love's so sweet

Talk so pretty, but your heart got teeth

Late night devil, put your hands on me

And never, never, never ever let go

Nightwing never noticed this before but Kit Noire was small. Her waist fit in the palms of his hands so well and her legs were slender and lean as they tied themselves around his hips. He looked like he could overwhelm her but he knew better. He knew how strong and dangerous she was but the mental image of just holding her down as she submits beneath him spurred him on further. Her lips were cherry sweet and intoxicating. And her weight on his thighs left him reeling, silently begging for more.

“Someone’s eager,” she had pulled away from his mouth to speak but rather than entertain any conversation he just moved to suck bruises into her jaw. The hand she had in his hair tightened and pulled at the short strands. Her breathing became laboured as she pants into the night sky. He wanted to coax out more reactions from her, wanted to see if she can really mewl like a cat. 

A wayward hand had her grinding down harder in his lap. They were in their own bubble on this abandoned rooftop; it sat between two skyscrapers, both casting the roof in an almost impenetrable shadow, one would really have to be looking to see them. The sound of traffic below was nothing more than white noise, a background soundtrack for their current encounter. Using her grip in his hair, Noire dragged him up from her jaw and crashed their lips together again. Her kittenish licks asked for entrance and he eagerly granted it, savouring the taste of her as she mapped out his mouth with her tongue. 

He gripped her tighter, not wanting to let go, blind in the pleasure of her lips and tongue and teeth.

Teeth

Teeth

Teeth

Never, never, never ever let go

#maribat #dickinette #enemies to lovers #mgi- server event #mgi trope tussle #no beta this is tussle #enemies to lovers speed run #ml x dc #mlb x dc #tumblr do me a solid #tumblr please stop hiding my posts #brina is amazing for letting me do this #songfic #song is Teeth by 5sos #cat! mari #criminal mari #i hope im not forgetting anything #tumblr im on my knees please #tumblr stop fucking cockblocking me #and hiding my posts this is ridiculous

[catcherofmonster]

Flowing Stream

requested: no

People involved: c!Wilbur, c!Tommy, c!Philza (mentioned)

Warnings: angst :), crying I guess, swearing, drowning mention, panic attack

Notes: what’s this? Something that ISNT an x reader/& reader? Yep. This was inpired by this post! Sorry if it’s all over the place, I tried to get my thoughts together but they ran away from me in this one lmao

———————————————————————

After all those years.

He could feel the tears try to nudge their way to run down his face.

He wouldn’t let them.

Not while there were so many people around. After all, he did have an appearance to keep up.

The tall and slightly intimidating man stood in front of his brother and his friends, looking as composed as ever. He wasn’t facing them. No. He was facing the skyline.

His own personal sunset.

The rays gently caressed his face like a past lover.

The thought of her alone almost made him break. He couldn’t though.

Not now.

Later.

“So, Tommy, I had a think, right?” He finally spoke. “I had a think, I've made some plans, I- I- I've debated with myself about what I should do,” he takes a shaky breath and turns to face Tommy.

“And I've made my decision what I need to do. Tommy...” he lets out an airy, yet awkward laugh before continuing. “I'm sorry.”

“...what- You gonna kill me?!” Tommy shouts at the man.

“No! No- no, sorry, ignore- ignore the Lore-sword, I'm...” he laughs again. There was nothing funny about the situation, but he needed to fill in the space with something, anything.

“I'm just- Ah, I'm not good at this, man... I- I need to make some apologies. I told you I needed to have a think. And I don't think an apology would ever sum up, uh... what I did here.” He turns and gestures to the deep hole that used to be a thriving nation. A nation that he fought and died for. “I mean... look at this mess. But like...”

“You did this.” Tommy pipes up, before back tracking a bit. “Well, actually, not all of it. You did a little bit.”

“Yeah, I didn't do the glass.” He waves off the comment as he continued. “But I think- I think I do need to, um... I need to apologize to some people! Y'know, I've gotta make amends! I've gotta make amends, and I- I promise that's- that's true, I know- look at me! Look me in the eyes.” He turns to face Tommy, a demanding tone flows into his voice. “I know it's- I know it's hard to believe when you look at me that I... I- Y'know, I've turned over a new leaf! Turned over a new leaf! Y'know?”

————

It was much later.

He was alone in L’Manburg, having sent Tommy off to collect some stone for him back at Phil’s place. Of course Tommy didn’t necessarily know that he was doing this for him, due to the fact that he delicately crafted his sentence to make it sound more of a challenge than anything.

It was getting all too much for him. The years spent alone on the dark and damp platform were finally catching up to him. He took small shaky breaths as he made his way back to where he had died.

It seemed fitting to return to the place. He had vague memories from Ghostbur of when Phil, Tommy, Tubbo, Eret, Fundy, and that new guy, Ranboo tried to revive him, instead they got Glatt. He remembers Glatt boarding the train. But it’s hazy after that. It’s been so long since then.

The dark had become a constant. Somewhat comforting, in a fucked up way. The dark didn’t betray him. The dark didn’t hurt him. But it was lonely. So lonely.

He sinks down against the hard jagged stone walls surrounding where he had pressed the button. There was no one around. After all, who would want to visit a detrimental relic of the past.

That’s all he was now. A relic of the past.

The tears gave him no warning this time. They fell down his face in steady streams. He curls upon himself and presses his back against the wall.

That’s all he was to them.

Some old, explosive relic.

The more that he thought about it, the more he spiraled. Deeper and deeper into his own thoughts. They were drowning him. The tears wouldn’t stop. His chest heaved for air, trying to calm himself down. His cries were mixed in with the gasps for air, though they were a bit quieter. The thoughts wouldn’t stop either. It was all too much.

Being isolated for so long has its effects on people.

#catcher writes #tw angst #tw crying #tw swearing #tw drowning mention #tw panic attack #c!wilbur soot #c!wilbur #revivebur #c!tommyinnit #c!tommy

[caroline-nighthunter]

The Ending Of The 3rd Arc

I said I would go on and rant about it, didn’t I?

Now, even though this is a kids game (13+ may I add) the 3rd arc especially touches on some heavy topics and if you’re not comfortable with that I’d advice to skip this one. Otherwise, let’s take this ending apart, shall we?

The Backstory

Ok so first things first, lets talk about the backstory that let to the happenings of arc three.

I.

KI really thought they could get away with this, huh? And they nearly did.

The Spirals lore was retconned to fit the dispute between Spider and Raven. Bold move KI, bold move.

You see, at the beginning of the game it was established that Bartleby sang the Titans into the world. Not Spider or Raven.

The titans were Bartleby’s children, but I guess the writers of the 3rd arc forgot about that.

II.

Retconning aside, let us look at the reason of the dispute between Raven and Spider.

The core issue of the dispute is that the Titans, who were “the children” of Raven and Spider, destroyed the first world by fighting against each other.

Raven blamed Spider for the happenings, due to his “chaotic influence” on the Titans. She began a bitter fight with Spider and ended it by locking him away in the black hole in Khrysalis.

The first world still lied in shambles, but out of ashes there must rise something new. So she and Bartleby created the Spiral or tried to. 

Yet without chaos there cannot be order and thus the spiral couldn’t properly exist. Raven realized that and therefore stole Spiders heart to ensure the stability of the Spiral.

This puts Raven in a questionable light, because it’s never fully told what the cause of the fight between the titans is and we cannot trust Ravens narrative, for she does not tell the story in a neutral standing.

The Ending

So, after centuries of being heartbroken and bottled up hatred, Spider is finally at the point of regaining his stolen heart again and destroy the Spiral. Until the Wizard and his (not so) merry band and Raven come along to stop him, but then the Storm Titan appears and crashes the party, just to get kicked by the Wizard. After that there is some talking between Spider, Raven and Bartleby and suddenly Raven and Spider are a couple and everyone gets their nice Happy Ending.

(Video if you want to see that ending for yourself: Link)

And yeah if I sound a little pissed, that is because I am.

You can’t tell me that this:

Is an acceptable apology after all that Raven did to Spider.

And I don’t think that the writers were aware of how wrong this sounds:

If you look at it from a different angle.

What angle you ask? Let’s find out in the next part.

If You Take It, You Gotta Take It All

KI always made their stories have dark and mature undertones, while wrapping it up in some lighthearted dark humor, but as you venture into the dark realm, you also gotta prepare for it or you’ll end up in unfavorable places.

Malistaire’s story was the one of a person who went mad because he couldn’t handle the grief of losing his wife.

Morganthe’s story was the one of an overly ambitious person, who didn’t know to have boundaries and lost everything to her blindness.

And Spider was the story of someone who got subjected to abuse and decided to take revenge.

Now I know abuse is a very touchy subject, where the lines aren't cut so clear, but locking someone you "love" up and ripping their heart out for your own convenience is pretty much abuse? Or at least a hardly forgiveable offence. And something that should take more this:

To be forgiven.

The Problem Of The Implication

With the abuse in mind the ending of Empyrea is something hard to cheer about. I don’t think that the writers intended the ending to have this undertone, because I believe that higher ups went down to the writing department and said: “Guys, you gotta end the arc, we’re going to have a different story for the next one, oh and Grandmother Raven is not a bad guy! And you have a week for it.” (Now I’m not sure if it was only a week, but they definitely hadn’t enough time for proper proof reading, otherwise I don’t think we would be here today.) Just like they probably did with Pirate’s book 15.

My problem is, that in my opinion, Spiders suffering gets brushed under the rug with this ending. He suffered for centuries under Ravens hand and somehow he forgets it all, just because he saw her again. I don’t want to say that it’s unbelievable writing, in fact I do understand his decision too good. 

He loves her too much to actually hate her, even if it the betrayal was crippling, he cannot get over her. Deep down he wishes that things were back to old times, when everything was “right”, so when Raven gives him the offer, he takes it. And that’s the thing, he shouldn’t take it. Because nothing is what it was anymore, you can’t erase what has happened. And would you really want to spend the rest of your days with someone who tried to kill you? The answer is no.

On top of that the ending tries to forcefully paint a good picture onto Raven, weakly justifying her actions, by guilt tripping the audience that it was “for the sake of the Spiral”, like Bartleby somehow said, even though she tried to kill him too:

My man, as your scion can I have a personal word with you?

Not to mention her last words:

It seems as if the writers knew that people would not buy into it...

An Alternative

Of course we cannot have Spider destroying the Spiral either. Not only would that mean that you fail to be the saviour of the Spiral, it would also mean that he would lose his fight against Raven in another way. He’d let the bitterness consume him and maybe, just maybe regret what he has done.

So, what would be the best ending?

To me the best ending would be the middle path. Let Spider and Raven settle their disputes without terminal outcome, but let them go parted ways after it. Spider could go and travel the spiral and take it in as something more than the creation of Raven. (This could make a nice questline too you know, showing him around everywhere.) While Raven continues to deal with the matters of the Arcanum and the impending dooms of the spiral and try to make up with Mellori, after all she kinda owes her that.

#wizard101 #w101 #[ essays ] #//You know something bugs me when I decide to write an essay about it >:'D #//If I missed some important info tell me #//And if you want more info tell me too #//So yeah I'm just gonna leave this here

[chris-evans-indian-fanfic]

Lifetimes

Chapter 2

Description - Detective Okoye finds out more about King Steven's past as you are subjected to further torture

Warning - Horror, mutilation, torture, Dark!Steve

PROCEED ONLY IF YOU ARE 18+!

Chapter 1

My Main Masterlist

I don’t consent to have any of my work published or featured on any third party app, website or translated. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but Tumblr and AO3, it has been reposted without my permission. In that case, please do share the link and let me know.

…

Detective Okoye sipped coffee as she examined the crime scene report on her desk. It had been more than 2 months since you had been the victim of the heinous crime. She narrowed her eyes as she read the report for probably the millionth time. The case was littered with problems.

First of all, they couldn't find your dead body. They had searched across the city and the state and had turned up empty handed. 

Secondly, the forensic team had secured two different sets of fingerprints from the crime scene atop the cliff. One set belonged to you, the other, your killer. However, their database couldn't match the fingerprints with any US citizen and known terrorists. Even the CIA, FBI and even the Interpol turned up empty-handed. 

The team also found paper-thin scraps of ash scattered across the cliff and the road. Their scientists could not make sense of that either. 

Lastly, they had absolutely no leads to chase down your attacker. The security cameras hadn't caught anything. There were no witnesses, except the one statement from Chris Evans, who continuously rambled on about the deep scar on the attacker's face. 

"You need to stop reading that file Oko. You are not a part of the investigation anymore," Detective Natasha's voice broke through Okoye's thoughts.

"I can't let it go Nat," Okoye responded, rubbing her forehead, "I keep thinking that I have missed something."

Nat closed the file and sat on the desk, "Look, I know it's frustrating to break your perfect record. But sometimes there are cases which you just can't solve."

Okoye sighed, "10 years Nat. I have solved every single case in the last decade. No matter if it was a simple house robbery or taking down a drug cartel, I have always cracked all of my cases. And now this?" Okoye slammed down her coffee mug in disgust, "I have been assigned desk duty because I couldn't solve this case."

"You know it's temporary till things dial down a bit," Nat tried to reason, "When the girlfriend of an international superstar goes missing, his fans and the media tend to erupt," Nat placed a hand on her shoulder, "You will be back soon Oko."

"Evans hasn't received a call for ransom?" Okoye inquired.

Nat shook her head, "I don't think she is alive Oko."

🌑

You opened your eyes, the whispers in the dark playing on a loop in your head, "What does he want?" , "Ya no puedo soportar esto" , "Who is she?" , "Quiero ir a casa" , "I make my most humble apology" ,"Nobis auxilium Dominus!" You only recognized English, the rest of the few languages alien to your ears. Besides you, you could see the terrified figures of ancient women who resembled your features.

You tried to speak to them, but no sound escaped your orifice. You were frozen, but were yet somehow still moving. The edge of your skin, along with others, shed like thin layers of ash, only to be replenished by the wind. 

It's this what death felt like? Were you a ghost?

The voices in your head suddenly went silent as everyone heard the despicable cackle of the man who commanded all of you.

🌑

It was dusk when Okoye walked towards the National History museum with her 5-year-old daughter in tow. She waved when she saw Carol with her son.

"Thank you so much for coming along!" Carol grinned as they hugged, "David was dying to look at the new exhibit."

Okoye brushed her off, "Please there's no need to thank me. Aurelia is just as much of a history enthusiast as David."

They joined the long line of people, mostly parents with their kids, waiting for their turn to enter. "I had no idea this exhibit was so popular," Okoye admitted as she took in the crowd. 

"Yeah. Ever since the discovery of the Aveninfin kingdom, suddenly everyone is a history nerd," Carol commented, "Still, I think it's cool that they found the remnants of an entire kingdom underneath the Texan desert." 

As they entered the museum, both the kids ran off towards the children's section of the exhibit where the tour guide was handing out pamphlets.

Okoye sucked in a deep breath, "Umm Carol, I wanted to talk about the bake sale this Saturday-"

"Yes Maria and I are going to bake lemon squares, chocolate cupcakes and vanilla-strawberry cookie spirals," Carol interrupted her, "I was thinking Maria will present the lemon squares from your end? We will say you are currently caught up with work and handed over your goodies to us," she knowingly winked at Okoye.

Her eyes filled with tears at Carol's kind words, "I am sorry," Okoye barely whispered.

"Oko, you have nothing to apologise for. It's difficult being a single mother and an awesome ass-kicking detective at the same time. Don't be harsh on yourself," Carol tried to console her by rubbing her back, "We love Aurelia. And we love you! It also helps that you gang up with me to prank my wife," Carol beamed.

They strolled in the museum, always keeping an eye on the kids as their activities continued. After about an hour or so, the kids dispersed. "Mommy," Aurelia called out, "did you see the handprint painting?" 

"No baby I didn't," Okoye replied. Her daughter led her by taking two of Okoye's fingers in her small hands. "You should see this mommy! You are a defective. This is also like defective work."

Okoye couldn't help but laugh at her daughter's innocence, "That's right baby, I am a defective."

She picked her up when they reached the fingerprint portion of the exhibit. Aurelia pointed out to one set of fingerprints, "See? Just like you explained," she clapped her hands once for impact. 

Okoye chuckled, kissing her daughter's forehead. She looked at the various sets of fingerprints. Most of them were unnamed, except three. One belonged to the King's right hand man called Buchanan, the other to the Queen named Luna and finally, the King himself, Steven Grant. 

Okoye stared at Steve's fingerprints. There was something eerily familiar about them. She stared harder, trying to identify them when suddenly, realisation hit her like an iceberg. 

Could it be? No it was impossible. But the intricate pattern of the fingerprints undoubtedly matched the ones in her file! 

She immediately unlocked her phone and compared the two images. They were identical! Okoye dialled Natashas's number, informing her of the development. "I will be there in 20 minutes," she replied.

🌑

Detectives Okoye and Natasha sat across the table from Dr Bruce Banner, the archeologist behind the discovery of the Aveninfin kingdom. It had been three days since Okoye's lead, and now, it seemed they were back to square one. 

It seemed that nobody on Bruce's staff had used the fingerprints to commit the crime. Everybody had airtight alibis, even the doctor himself. 

"I don't know what I can tell you ladies anymore-" Bruce started saying. But Natasha swiftly interrupted him, "Detectives," she spat with authority.

He held up his hands in resignation, "Sorry. Detectives. I have nothing new to share. You guys have been to my house, my lab and my office. You have interrogated my staff and colleagues. I really don't know how can-," he was interrupted again.

"A heinous crime was committed, and," Okoye pointed a finger at him, "fingerprints of your King Steven were found at the crime scene. So you really expect us to believe that he came back from the dead just to murder Chris Evans' girlfriend?"

"Legends share that King Steven never died," Bruce half-smiled at his pathetic joke. "Look, you guys are the detectives. Isn't it your job to," he gestured in a random direction, "detect this?"

"What was the need to even obtain fingerprints from an archeological site?" Okoye inquired.

Bruce looked squarely at her, "Fingerprints help us study human evolution Detective. We were lucky to have found their fingerprints painted on the wall and imprinted in the mudcakes."

"Mudcakes?" Nat cocked an eyebrow.

Bruce took a deep breath, "The people of Aveninfin believed that the dead would find a way back in case the living ever needed them. However, the dead spirits would need to identify their graves and their loved ones. So after the death of any citizen, they would press the deceased palms onto a patch of damp mud, which would then solidify, leaving behind an imprint."

Okoye bit her cheek, "But you just said that King Steven isn't believed to be dead."

Bruce shook his head, "I said legends claimed that. Folk-lore, fairy tales, ancient myth. There's no way to actually verify this."

Natasha checked her watch, "Well, we still have about an hour or so left for this interrogation to end. So why don't you indulge us Doctor?" she requested in her sweet venomous voice.

Rubbing his eyes, Bruce took a deep breath. "Okay," he said, "How much do you remember about the history of Aveninfin from school?" 

Both the women looked at each other. "Wasn't it a kingdom ruined by greed and ambition?" Okoye guessed.

Bruce nodded in response, "The king, Steven Grant, wanted to conquer the entire world just like Alexander had once set out to. In the 17th century, when the kingdom of Aveninfin was at its peak, King Steven married a Sorceress by the name of Luna. It is believed that Queen Luna gained her powers from the moon. A bit Luna-tic, amirite?" Bruce's another lame attempt at a joke was met with stony silence.

He cleared his throat, "So anyways, Queen Luna saw how the kingdom and it's citizens suffered in poverty while the King, his aid Buchanan and the corrupt traders and officers enjoyed the riches. She knew of his ambition to conquer the world and so, she killed him by poisoning him. But, here is where things get interesting."

Bruce shifted in his seat, the  excitement in his voice mirroring in his body language, "The Queen didn't account for Buchanan's loyalty. You see, in some iterations of the legend, it is said that the King and Buchanan were lovers, in others, they were mentioned as close comrades. Buchanan was said to be raised by witches, and so, when he realised that the King had been poisoned, he went and dug open his grave to revive the King."

Natasha looked disinterested and Okoye managed to keep a passive expression as Bruce rambled on. "Buchanan apparently gave half of his soul to the King, so that King Steven can live. But this only made matters worse. Now both, the King and Buchanan, existed in the world of the living, and also in the realm of the dead. This place… this-this sweet nexus of two dimensions cursed the beings with unimaginable power, and pain."

Okoye gave Natasha half a smile as the latter yawned, "Let me guess the next part Doctor," Natasha offered, "The King laid waste to the entire kingdom and buried it within the ground where the sun doesn't shine?" 

Deflated, Bruce sank back in his chair, "Yeah."

🌑

You were passing through buildings, cars, houses, trees and God knows what. Suddenly, you came to a stop. You were surprised when you saw King Steve, or "Conqueror of the Paranormal, Leader of the Occult Study and Summoner of Death, His Majesty King Steven Grant" as he liked to call himself, converse with another man. 

This stranger's hair was tied in a small ponytail. His physique was just as massive and looked just as strong as Steve's.  

His magic command wore off just a bit as he was speaking with the stranger. You were able to move your face and a little portion of your limbs. You gasped in your head as you finally took in the condition of the women around you. Some women were missing their palms, feet, or even entire hands and legs. A few had their entire torsos cut so that you could only see their spine connecting their head with their hips. While the face of one woman was absent of her eyeballs, the other one's neck had been chopped off in a gruesome manner.

Steve's power over you started weaning further as he became more agitated in his conversation. Your eyesight became a bit clearer, the shades of black and grey slowly shifting into focus.

You had to find a way out of this prison. By now, you understood that all the women in King Steven's harem had been murdered and kept captive. This could not be death. You didn't want it to be.

Looking downwards at your feet, you noticed the faint wisps of ash detaching from your body and collecting on the ground below. It could easily be confused as dust in a small quantity, but when shed in a larger amount, it could form a trail of sorts...

🌑

A FEW DAYS later saw Okoye sitting at her desk with her head in her hands. "Oko," Natasha approached her gently.

"You know, if I had any hair on my head I would be pulling them out right now," Okoye joked miserably. 

"I told you before Oko. Some cases are too twisted to be solved. Do you know how many cases in the US go unsolved? Probably-"

"Wait," Okoye interrupted Natasha, "What did you just say?" 

Natasha looked a bit surprised, "Ummm… Do you know how many cases go unsolved?"

"That's it!" exclaimed Okoye. She rushed towards the Records room of the precinct, with Natasha hot on her heels. "What's 'it'?" she asked.

"We need to check whether these fingerprints have come up in the last 6 months in the unsolvable crimes committed," Okoye explained, "Think about it Nat. Dr Banner told us that they retrieved the prints 6 months ago right? So there has to be-"

Natasha sighed, "Well it is a lead. But…" "But what?" Okoye responded. 

"You are grasping at straws Oko. Don't you think it would have been in the news if a murder went unsolved heart because the prints couldn't be traced? Look I…," Natasha hesitated, "I know you are desperate. Frustrated even. But this has started to affect your health and work and I can't just stand by and be a silent spectator."

"Then don't be one. Join me and help me in solving this," Okoye urged.

Natasha just shook her head, "If… if you don't give up this case Okoye then-"

"Then what Natasha?" Okoye almost spat her name.

"I will have to report you," Natasha's threat sounded like a plea.

Okoye squared her shoulders, "After everything we have gone through?"

Natasha looked at her with a painful expression, "Yes. Especially after everything we have gone through. I just cannot let you destroy your career behind one case. You weren't even supposed to interrogate Dr Banner! This… this stops now."

Both the women stared at one another, refusing to back down. Finally, Natasha muttered something under her breath and left the Records room as Okoye kept glaring at her back.

36 HOURS LATER, Okoye found a nondescript manila envelope on her desk, buried under her pile of unprocessed files with a note, "Hope this helps! - Peter P." She casually angled her body in a way which hid the contents of the envelope as she opened it. Her eyes widened at the information displayed in front of her.

King Steven's fingerprints were found at crime scenes that dated back all the way to 1915, almost around the time when the police started using science and technology to obtain and analyse fingerprints. 

As she flipped through the pages, she noted the years of the crimes committed. 1915, 1933, 1954, 1974, 1997 and lastly, 2020. A quick mental calculation made her realise that the average number of years between these murders were approximately between 20-22.

But nothing prepared her for what she saw next.

The photographs of all the female victims closely resembled your face. Sure, there was a difference in the colour of their skin, languages and backgrounds. But their facial features were identical. 

Moreover, there was a striking similarity in the way the crime was committed. The women were kidnapped and then disappeared without a trace. 

Okoye sat back in her chair as realisation struck her like a thunderbolt. Could it be? Was there really an undead entity hunting these women? And for what?

🌑

You were moving again. Every part of you was frozen, except the tips of your thumb and forefinger, thanks to King Steve still seething in anger. Rubbing them together furiously, you tried to communicate with others through your mind, urging them to do the same.

It continued for a while when suddenly, you felt yourself freeze completely. 

That disdainful cackle was back in your head, "Hehehehe. Honey wants to shed her skin? HER SKIN!!! Wants to be rescued. RESCUED! Don't like me? ME! Doesn't want skin? SKIN? SKIN! Then I will take it. TAKE IT!"

You felt his shadow push into you with force as your now solid forms collided with the ground. His blade, now shining brighter than the sun, cut into your sides as you silently screamed in agony. 

Pain seared through you as he started peeling the skin from your entire body, only to reveal the ghastly organs beneath. Muscle, bones, veins and all were now on display. Nobody could hear your blood-curdling screams except the women surrounding you, their howls of horror joining yours as once again, you were reminded about who was in charge.

"Need skin," Steve muttered as he kept cutting into you, "Have hands, legs, face, torso, everything. EVERYTHING! Need skin to put her back together. To bring her back. She will breathe. She will be alive. ALIVE!"

__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__

Permanent tag: @donutloverxo

Taglist for this series: @buckysteveloki-me @cheeseburgersstuff @ninefuckingoneone @keenmarvellover (I tagged you guys because you had requested to be tagged if I ever write a part 2. If you guys don't want to be tagged in this, just let me know. No hard feelings 😊)

Taglist open! Just comment, send an ask or message!

#okoye #Natasha Romanoff #okoye x natasha #dark!marvel #Marvel au #dark!mcu #dark!avengers #dark!steve rogers #dark!bucky barnes #horror #Marvel horror au

[monkey-network]

The Glory of No More Heroes

Who would’ve thought a Wii game by Suda 51 would be the best slap in the face. Let’s not beat around the bush, No More Heroes throws you right in. When Travis says, “It’s Game Time”, he means it. The swinging of the light saber, the splatters of blood, the essence of this badass looking weeb fills me with joy every time I play. NMH is a game I cherish and I wanted to express why.

The Touchdown

Honestly when I think of a realistic take on an anime anti-hero, I immediately think Travis Touchdown. He’s basically Saitama from One Punch Man except not invincible, considerate, bald. He doesn’t have a luxurious status compared to everyone he meets and he’s fine with that. Then again, they both have this subconscious pride in either looking for a challenge or, for Travis, becoming #1. Then again, where Saitama’s story is about understanding the humility of being a hero, Travis’s story is more macabre with how far you’re willing to go with your aspirations.

Travis isn’t facing any bad guys that are out to take over something like the city or whatever. They’re cantankerous mercenaries where the job of assassin has driven them to the deep end. Travis goes down the same path, the garden of madness, but in a different light; he at first gets a kick out of facing his enemies like its a movie where he’ll get the girl at the end, but soon enough empathizes with the idea that not everyone feel the same way and everyone has their own goals in this gig. 

Beyond the finale, he doesn’t really possess a chip on his shoulder in the first game and that clashes with everyone that’s been through a lot. The game does a great job veiling the haunting spiral Travis goes through by making his attitude towards it all eclipse the harsh reality of his journey. He’s becoming a remorseless killer, but that never gets in the way of the thrill you and Travis gets when slashing down some dudes or talking shit. 

At the same time, he’s not a complete asshole in spite of how sees this game. This is generally where we have to talk about...

The Ranked Fights

Every assassin in NMH is memorably unique, some more than others but they nonetheless capture the point of the game, without ‘em this would’ve been a standard beat ‘em up all things considered. With the exclusion of one, the assassins aren’t as enthused with their job as Travis is and even that excluded one, Destroyman, takes it to a level far beyond Travis’s likeness. That is the thing, all of them are Travis yet taken to differing yet equally extreme turns as assassins. For Letz Shake and Dr. Peace, it’s a euphoric calling. For Shinobu, it’s about the honor of the fight. For Bad Girl and Holly Summers, it’s all they think they have for a life. Each believing that being an assassin was their exit to something better but, aside Shinobu who was spared, had their fate sealed until Travis showed up. It’s kinda how Batman internalizes his “No Kill Rule”, you kill one and you’re potentially going to continue until someone stops you. And really, you probably appreciate every one of them. A couple fall by the wayside personality wise, but most the assassins has their moment before and/or after that makes fighting them feel gratifying. It’s almost impossible to hate them and they each subconsciously welcome you to give it your all.

This helps makes Travis a great protagonist. Moments like when he holds the mic for the defeated Dr. Peace, when he spares Shinobu, especially when he feels remorse for not killing Holly himself are what shows the true man in him, the growing protagonist. He tends to be cocksure, but isn’t a full on scumbag to everyone and is never rewarded for his shitty moments. Travis has an ego, literally rising in the ranks, but he doesn’t consider himself so above the people he fights. He’s kinda the hero in a way of giving each assassin a humble end, a sense of satisfaction that comes with the 1v1 challenge. Travis doesn’t cheats his way to the top and the assassins aren’t stripped of their humanity regardless of the downward spiral that came with the job. 

He is no hero and the people you fight aren’t either hence the title, but at the end of the day, as badass as everyone is, everyone is human wanting that paradise. But, with that want comes...

The Work

I often think of No More Heroes as a balanced Male Power Fantasy. DMC5 and Bayonetta are ones where while the action is earnest and the cutscenes are spectacle gold, the joy lacks in everything else. NMH fixes that by making exploration genuinely fun to do. The jobs, the challenges, the training, the clothing you’re able to get, all pay just as well in investment as getting to the main event. I seriously get in the zone when I finally maxed out my combos, got the final beam katana, and get to the timed challenges where I’m slaying as fast as possible. The previous two I mentioned are already badass in their own right and it’s mostly up to you, the player, to make them dance with your gameplay. But I say NMH takes that extra step, while having simpler controls, to where it’s not just your gameplay that makes you feel epic, but taking your time to gradually make that epicness come to fruition not just with earning money but doing the odd jobs and exploring the city.

Santa Destroy feels like more of a character and you feel better integrated in that world than you admittedly do in most hack and slash games. It also helps that getting to the next ranked fight isn’t as frustrating in the grind. There are a couple stinker jobs and assassin gigs but they all pay well that beyond getting to the first event with Dr. Peace, earning money never felt like an insufferable chore. Once again, this plays well into Travis as a character. He’s not immediately given immense power locked away inside him; he earns it all. You train him, you collect those balls for the special moves, you earn money for those beam katanas, he’s strong enough to suplex and pile drive people effortlessly, but you know he’s capable of becoming better. The only thing you generally got no charge is the motorbike which honestly is the sweetest damn thing in the game. It adds up to a character that, in a typical modern environment, you make happen.

The Beauty

I say the genius of No More Heroes is its portrayal of everything. You’re not the chosen one destined for greatness, you’re an average anime lover that got his fighting skills from VHS tapes and won a weapon from eBay. You’re not fighting in grandiose locations but everyday buildings like a school, parking lot, the beach, train station, warehouse, etc. And again, you’re not fighting chaotic supernatural enemies but people with lives that just happen to love killing people. NMH makes a playground out of the mundane without making it cynical or boring; honestly reminiscent of home movies where you’d have epic battles take place in the backyard or mall lot but given that legit bloody action flare of video games. With the humor and music being the jimmies and cherry on top. 

This is why 1 works far better than the sequel but that’s for another time. 

Suda overall sets you in an believable environment to go nuts in but doesn’t sucker punch you when shit gets real. He gives you exactly what you crave but doesn’t make you out to be an emotionless killing machine. The synergy between the player and Travis is what makes NMH great, potentially underrated, and it never shames you for enjoying it. Even when there are no more heroes on every front, 

You still feel like one in the end

The Conclusion

So yeah, I love this game. It’s one where I’m just into playing it in one sitting and as I grew up, came to appreciate more than before. It isn’t the most complex unless you really dive into Suda51′s “Kill the Past” lore but doesn’t need to be. Like I said before, compared to most big titles nowadays, this one jumps right in and whether you find it deep it or not, it’s all compelling. It’s up there as a favorite with Great Teacher Onizuka where it’s an underrated celebration of the no shits given badass counter part of pop culture while having some meaningfulness in what it actually says. I’m glad I got into this game series.

#No more heroes #NMH #travis touchdown #Suda 51 #grasshopper manufacture #video games #analysis #Good Stuff #long post

[gayregis]

blood and wine rewrite au basic layout

i already posted something like this before but i cant find the post so im just rewriting all of this from the top of my head

everyone’s repurposed roles:

geralt - he’s still a witcher. he’s geralt of rivia. obviously. i don’t have time or interest to think about how to rewrite the entire witcher 3 game to be lore-friendly, but i assume there would be less triss and more dandelion involved in it. for this let’s just take him as geralt having done everything in tw3 but with the personality of geralt from the books because geralt from the games doesn’t have much of a strong personality good for writing or thinking about.

regis - a bitch. nah jk. he’s same regis but just what he was like 100 years ago when he got his head cut off. he’s less spiralling-into-doom than he was then, and is less desperate and hopeless overall, but is slowly getting there once again. he doesn’t remember anything about learning from his mistakes and becoming a good person, because this regis didn’t get any of that. to this regis, it’s like no time has passed at all since he died, and he’s ready to start partying again without any thought of the consequences. he’s moved to toussaint because everyone’s already tipsy there and the north is plagued by war so it’s not a really great source to be drinking from (like if there was a sewage leak near the vineyard you sourced your wine from). he doesn’t remember anything about maturing up or about becoming a surgeon or about the hansa, so that sucks.

dettlaff - not a fucking maniac. actually a character geralt will likely spend a good amount of time talking to. total character overhaul because he does not have a personality in the actual DLC. he arrived in toussaint because he had heard that regis had returned and wanted to fix things wih him, he had previously left him.

syanna - not a fucking dumbass, yet still naive in her own way due to being blinded with the promise of power. in this, she is planning to stage a coup on the duchy (because she is the older sister, so it IS her right by law) and she supports regis’ slow dive again into uncontrollable insanity because it helps her prop up rumors that her sister’s reign is ineffective against real threats and is cursed. but this alliance does not go as she planned...

orianna -  in this, she is the owner of a gladiatorial school (instead of an orphanage), and is still like in canon a wealthy and influential individual of beauclair, yet reclusive from human society. she is regis’ best friend and goads him on, because she never fixed her own issues with alcoholism and now is elated to have him back and forgetting that they had disagreements which drove them apart in the first place. they’re best friends (NO romance) and it’s just good to see how insanely different orianna and geralt are because they’ve both been regis’ close friends at different points in time.

the purpose of this:

fix regis’ relationships with the vampires. he slowly drove all of his good friends away by going off the deep end and many are likely wondering whatever happened to him. but books regis would never consider partying like that again, so we bring the party regis back and then slowly de-escalate him into normal books regis again, and we finally get closure with him and his old friends.

cool dramatic stereotypical vampire shit. i’m talking about a final battle or conversation in a giant dark castle with large open windows and billowing drapery.

regis’s hairstyle

give syanna actual agency as a character and give her motivations that extend beyond pure revenge (although they are related to revenge) and make her more unique so she is not just a ripoff of renfri. 

demonstrate anna henrietta and geralt’s relationship as it was in the books. he was genuinely intimidated by her and i interpret him as being jealous of her relationship with dandelion, so he in practice was quite withdrawn around her as she was her overemotional and embellished self

give dettlaff an actual character, holy shit. i hate how sorely underdeveloped he is in the game. i understand why because it’s not meant to be writing, it’s meant to be a video game, but come on. i hate having the vampire with the cool character design be the ultimate villain of the whole narrative. in this, he’s someone geralt can talk to and sees himself in. he’s emotionally mature and doesn’t mix with the other vampires. since we already know what regis is like, we don’t have to sit through dettlaff making excuses for him and trying to describe what his character is like. we also get a better view of regis’ past through dettlaff’s lense. 

give orianna an actual character, holy shit. i hate how they didn’t even try with her and just used her as a “surprise, she is quite evil!” gimmick. have her actually have a larder for blood that is lore-friendly yet still jumps out at the audience as morally wrong.  give her more personality and development.

examine regis’ backstory without actually getting into every single year of those 4 centuries. we can examine how it started good, turned bad, went worse... there’s a lot of loss involved and i think this would be nice to process it.

roughly what happens (under cut because if i ever do write this fic out, this is spoilers, literally the synopsis of the whole thing):

anna henrietta sends envoys to geralt. they establish that the duchess has no conflict with geralt and that her conflict was with dandelion, only. she has requested his help because he effectively dealt with many monsters while he was in beauclair and established a trustworthy reputation (also, he’s famous, and toussaintoirs are superficial). instead of the beast of beauclair killing particular victims, it’s the countryside which has been plagued by vicious attacks of the devil knows what.

geralt arrives and examines the scenes of the attacks. the sincere majority of the victims are alive, so he speaks to them. they remember nothing, but woke up with their village fucking absolutely trashed and with vomit everywhere. they all have wounds on their necks. geralt thinks he knows what’s up, but is reluctant to deal with it because of his memories of regis, who he misses

damien de la tour is assigned to geralt as a sort of backup. they argue and geralt manages to get him to stay put in beauclair while he rides to a village they believe will be attacked next. it’s not even a full moon so the vampires don’t even come out in their bat form (disappointing) but instead just mesmerize their way in in humanoid form. dettlaff sneaks up on geralt who is (ahem) staking out the situation, and is like hey dont kill regis hes not evil hes just misguided!! and geralt is like REGIS? EMIEL REGIS? THTS WHO’S LEADING THEM? i ..... i know him.... and dettlaff’s like what the fuck how... then they get caught and regis is like oh hey dettlaff who’s this guy and geralt feels very left out :( and also sad bc regis doesnt remember shit and geralt even lists the hansa members by name and regis is still like O_O ok yeah im just going to hypnotize you to get lost ok goodbye! but dettlaff prevents him from doing this and they both get thrown out of the party.

after the party geralt is a mess and is like wtf so hes back and what... how... huh... and dettlaff doesnt know how he returned or why he returned either but they compare geralt’s knowledge of how regis died with dettlaff’s knowledge of how regeneration works and they figure out that regis just regenerated from his past body and that’s why he doesn’t have any of his memories from when he turned good.

then they eavesdrop a little more and find out that syanna has been talking to regis and making deals with him (its... not really like she thinks, regis really hasnt been doing anything he doesnt want to. shes just like “hey can you attack this village here” and regis is like yeah i was gonna host a party there tomorrow night ...) so they are like who the fuck is this woman and track her down to her base of operations, and then they find out that THEY got followed by damien de la tour, who identifies her as sylvia anna. geralt is a little miffed on behalf of dandelion that damien seems to be so close to anna henrietta but i digress.

geralt reports his findings to the duchess but does NOT mention regis because the duchess knows who regis is. then we get the same vampire talk from canon b&w where the duchess and damien are sorely misinformed on every single thing ever.

geralt is defeated and has no idea on how to fix this and hes looking hard into a mirror by candlelight and then decides to go to bed so he turns around and regis is right behind him like hey. cue ‘holy shit what the fuck’ moment and freaking out. regis explains himself and says that he doesnt remember him but the fact that he gave so many specifics weirded him out and he kind of wants to know more out of curiosity. also he wants to talk to dettlaff but feels too bad about how he argued with him like 3 centuries ago that he cant just ask him directly.

so they talk and geralt is all :(( and regis is like ok well. i kinda want to get these memories back because they sound pretty significant and also im pretty miserable. but also im not going to stop partying bc its the only thing that makes me feel alive rn. so long!

geralt and dettlaff talk to orianna and she dislikes them both but still talks to them and then regis materializes and also begins bothering them and its quite civil but this scene just serves to demonstrate how annoying they are as friends lol

there’s scenes where you can either save damien / syanna from being unalived by the vampires’ / regis’ hand, only if you let syanna die will the duchess be mad and accuse you of being heartless like dandelion is and then geralt and the duchess actually get into an argument bc of that comment but geralt ofc loses bc hes scared of her lol

no matter what you get regis his memories back but your decisions to either continue helping him or not is what makes him change or not. even after he gets his memories back (or because he gets his memories back?) he decides to raze beauclair bc hes just so fucking miserable and geralt has to talk him down, if you are harsh and not understanding and shame him etc then he doesnt change, if you condemn his actions but still offer your support then he does.

if you offer your support > geralt talks about the hansa like For Ever and regis then adds in everything and yay regis is back to normal. theres like a wholesome montage of geralt being like “just TRY to sew up a wound i promise you you will be good at it” and regis does and hes splendid at it. regis and dettlaff finally make up and are bros once again. we help orianna with her issues and she realizes stuff but is still going to have a drink once in a while. if syanna is alive she doesnt hate on any of this but just decides to make up with the duchess and then become captain of the guard (damien gets fired for being a dumbass).

if you do not offer your support > regis goes to cry in a delapidated creepy old castle and you have an epic fight (geralt is backed up by dettlaff) and he turns into a bat and geralt almost dies, they manage to decapitate regis again and put him in the ground and set a timer for 50 years

if you redeem regis then there’s an ending scene where the duchess is like “oh regis i didnt know you were in town” and hes just like <:) ahaha... yeah...

cue crying about milva/cahir/angouleme For Ever. maybe link this with the fic where geralt and regis bring them all back as ghosts/real ppl and then they have to deal with those consequences

#blood and wine rewrite au #regis #geralt #thoughts

[beanie-beebo-writes]

It follows

Series Summary: Reader is running from financial problems and his/her studies, will they catch up with him/her? Charlie's close friends (none other than Sam and Dean) go to check up on the reader due to Charlie becoming worried for him/her. Trouble pursues, as the reader wants to keep silent about his/her struggles.

Warnings: Brief description of panic

Masterlist

Chapter 16

Three knocks pounded on the door, instantly waking you from a deep sleep. Your eyes quickly snapped open; none of your surroundings were familiar. You spiraled into a panicked state and began to hyperventilate, completely unaware of the movement around you. Frantically you started to yank yourself out of what seemed to be a hotel bed. Before you could move further, a large pair of hands softly, but firmly framed your face. Looking up, you met a pair of green eyes.

"(Y/N), you're safe, it's okay." The attractive man said calmly, searching your face for recognition.

As you began to fully wake up, you took in the room and slowly recalled the past 48 hours. You sighed and pulled Dean's body closer to yours without hesitation. He tensed up for a moment, but relaxed into your embrace willingly. Before you pulled away, he briefly rubbed your back and smiled reassuringly. Realizing what you had just done, you blushed furiously.

"You good?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, uh, I'm good." You replied quietly.

You turned to the sound of Sam and another man talking, who you could only assume was Bobby. At the sight of your attention, they stopped conversing with one another.

"(Y/N), this is Bobby Singer. He was the one who called us during the night." Sam introduced.

"So this is (Y/N)? The one who decided to tag along with you?" Bobby asked.

"Uh, yeah." Sam said.

"I'm sure you two tested her, correct?" Bobby asked.

"Yeah, of course. We made sure to do it while she was out the other day." Dean said.

You turned your head at Dean with a look of pure fear, nowhere near knowing what they could have possibly meant by that. All three men returned your expression with apparent confusion.

"I thought you said (s/he) was helping you." Bobby said.

"(S/he) is." Sam said.

"Well then how about you explain that look on (his/her) face." Bobby retorted.

You gulped, still not knowing how to explain the situation without it sounding unsettling. They all stared at you as you briefly pondered, waiting for your response.

"I- I watch a lot of horror movies, I kind of know a thing or two." You lied.

"Bullshit. Horror movies don't teach you this crap. Now, how about you tell us the truth?" Bobby said as he strode towards you.

"I don't think you would like the truth." You admitted.

"Tough, because we ain't going anywhere until we know what's going on." Bobby said.

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. "You know how Charlie is my best friend, right guys?"

"Yeah..?" The brothers said in unison.

"Well, she introduced me into this book series a long time ago, called Supernatural-" the three hunters groaned "-and before you label me as a creep, I'm not another Becky Rosen, I swear. I don't want you like that, at all. If anything, you guys... inspire me. When I was going through shit, I wished I could escape with you. I wished I could handle things like you did; I admired you. I didn't want to tell you at first, because, well, I expected this. I didn't want to freak you out. Hell, I didn't even know you guys were aware of the series' existence, and I didn't want to be the one to put that on you, " You explained, not allowing yourself to look at any of them.

Unbeknownst to you, all three of them were not disappointed in the slightest. They exchanged glances with one another before deciding to respond.

"That actually... makes sense. I'm.. honored." Sam said.

You looked up in confusion. "...What?"

"I've never really had someone look up to me like this, ever. And now that I know we could be inspiring others.." Sam said.

"..It means you help more than you realize." Bobby finished, looking them square in the eye. "You boys are heroes, and I've been telling you that since day one."

Flabbergasted, Sam and Dean shifted and looked around; it pained your heart with sympathy. You couldn't help but wonder if those books were almost serving as an autobiography, based on how touched they were.

"Alright, I think we have more pressing matters here, so maybe we could return to this later?" You suggested.

"I agree, let's stow it until this hunt is solved. Now," -Bobby clapped his hands together- "Where are we headed?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By nightfall, the four of you set out towards the wooded area, where the Kumiho had been reported numerous times before. You and the Winchesters lead the way in the Impala, while Bobby followed in his rusty pickup. As you hoped, the area was absent of anything but wildlife when you arrived, which would make the search less difficult.

"So, you have a plan how to exactly trap this thing?" Dean asked as he closed the driver side door.

"What, you think I'm gonna haul my ass up here without a decent plan?" Bobby asked.

"I didn't think you would." Sam said.

"Thank you. Anyway, I figured, it's basically a spirit, right? So I looked at some spirit entrapping and banishing spells, and I found a few things. I mean, this isn't your average Casper, but something is bound to work on it." Bobby said.

"Go on." You said.

"Lore says that the most common ways to lure and trap a spirit are with lengths of string, and a jar with certain types of incense, which I have both of." Bobby informed.

"Like a God's eye or a witch bottle." Sam said.

"Exactly. So I think we should try to lure it into the container and have someone keep watch over it, at least until the Kumiho transforms back into a human." Bobby said.

"Sounds like a plan to me." Dean said.

Bobby handed out the materials, which were conveniently and loosely packed into the small jars. Each of you were also sure to grab a heavy duty flashlight and your cell phones before you headed towards the edge of the dimly lit park.

"Can I tag along with Dean this time around?" You asked. "If not, I don't really care."

"Uh yeah, sure." Bobby said.

"Cool. So how are we going to give out a signal?" You asked.

"We have phones, I think that should be good enough for one." Dean answered.

"I think so too;" Bobby said, "be sure to keep your eyes open."

"Will do." Dean said as you split off into different directions.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hey Dean?" You asked, crunching through the foliage.

Dean briefly turned around, but made sure to continue walking. "Yeah (Y/N)?"

"Back at the motel, I didn't really mean to put you guys on the spot there, you know." You said.

"I know (Y/N), I know you couldn't really help that. Bobby can be like that sometimes, trust me." Dean said.

"Okay… Um. How did you find out about those books, anyway? I mean, you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. I just-" You stopped him and turned him around. "-I wouldn't want a series written about me either. I'm just curious, that's all."

Dean looked around before setting his gaze back on you, making sure they weren't being actively hunted. "Is it like a stalker thing or something?" You asked quietly with anticipation.

"No, uh, it's nothing like that." He said. "It's actually a long story, that you may or not believe."

"I mean, the story itself is real, right? There isn't much crazier than that." You said.

Dean awkwardly shuffled his feet, careful to not make too much noise. "Yeah, it's real, down to the last detail."

"I'm sorry, I won't pry-"

A twig snapped somewhere in front of you, silencing any thoughts but of the task at hand. You simultaneously turned to the source of the noise and silently communicated to one another. The forest suddenly seemed a little too quiet, but of course, that could have easily been you. Turning around a thin tree that blocked your view, you jumped back at the close proximity of a doe. Dean chuckled quietly at your reaction before firmly placing a hand on your shoulder. You sighed in relief and surveyed the area, to see if there could have been anything else to blame the noise on.

"Ugh, how long have we been in here for anyway?" Dean asked out loud, pulling out his cheap phone.

You peered over at the digital numbers on his screen. "Almost two hours… Does it normally take this long?"

"Not really," -He scrolled through his contacts until he landed on Sam- "I think I'm gonna give Bobby and Sam a call."

You stepped forward a few steps to give him some privacy, even though he wouldn't likely mind you listening in. It gave you a chance to observe the area anyway, as well as making the situation less awkward for yourself.

"Yeah?" Sam answered audibly.

"We've got nothing over here, how about you two?" Dean asked into the phone.

"Same as you, dead silent."

"We're gonna head East then I think, I saw some more woods on the drive back yesterday."

"Be careful, alright?" Bobby added, apparently overhearing the conversation.

"Of course Bobby." Dean said, flipping the phone closed.

"What do we do now?" You asked as you walked back over to him.

"We're gonna search in the woods I spotted when we flew out of here yesterday, since it's close by. You still up to tagging along?" He asked.

"Of course, I'm not letting you do this by yourself, even if you are Dean Winchester." You said.

Just as Dean had said, not too far down the road from the last location was a wooded area of similar size. The only difference, was the surrounding environment. Dean parked the car; you looked out the window at what resembled the beginning of the countryside. The previous area was more urbanized, unlike where you currently sat.

"Stay together, just in case if it decides to pop up in here." Dean said as you both made your way to the forest.

"Obviously." You said.

The large field that lay in front of the line of trees was lightly dusted with frost, almost like a warning of what could be waiting for you. Putting action over thought, you shook off the slight cool air and fear, and barreled into the dark forest. You were around halfway in when you realized the vibe had definitely changed. You made a move to stop but instead almost tumbled into Dean, who beat you to it.

"You feel that?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, I'm not surprised you felt it too." You said.

"Stay close." He said.

You nodded and continued to quietly trek through the dark trees; a small clearing instantly appeared into your fields of vision. Just as you were about to comment on the irony of it, you froze at the sound of multiple branches crunching to your left. You prepared for the worst and tightly gripped the contents you would need, Dean followed suit. And then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw it, a beautiful woman emerging from the depths of the shadows.

#spn fanfic #spn x reader #spn reader insert

[terraclae]

The Twilight

The Paramo Court residents deal with the finiteness of things in their own ways. Epoch is only briefly in draconic form but then immediately shifts before he hits the deck. 

Lore pings: @yuushanoah-fr @cityofinoue

‘Well, this is the last time we'll be opening this baby today.’ Atlas pat the door which resonated with a satisfying hollow sound. It was currently in the process of moving open with a hefty noise to only allow passage for one person at a time. ‘Well, plenty of fresh air to get tomorrow.’

‘Not in a good sense.’ Arodan grumbled behind him. He followed him out and had to shield his eyes against the sunlight that streamed in from the outside, immediately pelted by salty sea air. ‘How am I ready for this?’

‘In a sense, none of us are buddy.’ Atlas took Arodan’s wrist to pull him along so he wouldn't get accidentally get wedged between the door and wall. I've seen my fair share of battles and wars but it always is terrifying when a new one rears it's head.’

‘Are you scared?’ Arodan asked. He leapt over to the edge of the balcony and took in the salted air and allowed it to settle in his lungs.

‘Of course I'm scared!’ Atlas stood besides him and nudged him with his shoulder. ‘But I can't let it freeze me. You know, otherwise things like this happen.’ He pointed jovially at his chipped ear which looked a little red from the treatment still. The doctor had deemed it to be not too serious beyond part of his ear was chipped.

‘Yeah, right.’ Arodan himself was dead terrified and filled with a dread that made him want to stop breathing sometimes. Guilt wracked him above all for making one grave mistake regarding another already. ‘Atlas?’

‘Yes?’

He gave pause to his question, then dared to ask. ‘If I die, there's unsent letters in my desk in the library. I need them delivered and let the people I care about know I'm no more.’ He folded his hands in front of him and turned his gaze away from Atlas. ‘And there's a picture of me too in my desk and I kept it mostly because Mimir, a friend of mine, made it. If you maybe… Want to remember me, then you can have it.’

Hey now-’

‘I'm not saying I will die.’ Arodan interrupted Atlas. ‘But I'm saying it's a possibility.’

Atlas’ ears dropped in a fashion very unlike him, and it was visible in his eyes and furrowed brow that he didn't understand why Arodan would ask him specifically. He responded physically however by closing his hand around Arodan’s. ‘Of course. But let's try not to die, will we? For all I know I'll bite the dust tomorrow and I can't deliver your letters.’

‘That's not a very comforting thought either.’ Arodan pulled his hand away and opted for looking the other way. ‘I want you to stay alive. People would miss you.’

‘Well, did you think I wouldn't miss you if you left or died?’ He nudged Arodan once more and this time Arodan physically flinched. This stopped Atlas from trying a second time. ‘It's been short and eventful for you, I know, but we're happy you're here, we really are.’ He fidgeted with his hands instead. ‘And uh, sorry, I can see you don't want to be touched right now, so sorry I tried to.’

‘It's not as much the touch, or the contact.’ Arodan responded, Atlas’ apology striking a guilty nerve even harsher now. ‘Well, no, that's it. Some days are fine, today's just not… I'm happy to be around you and the others too, yet it feels so unfamiliar.’ He this time very carefully sought Atlas’ hand and he felt he was allowing him to take it on Arodan’s own terms. ‘It feels wrong.’

‘You know, you never went into detail what happened to you on that ship.’ Atlas looked intently at Arodan's hand and didn't dare move yet. ‘You don't have to tell me, but I do want to understand you.’

‘Well, it's sort of… Sort of stupid.’ Arodan glanced to the side, then back to his hand in Atlas’s and he put his other over the hand. ‘I set out because I've wanted to see the world for as long as I remember, and traveling on the Big Ham seemed like the most ideal way to do this.’ He didn't look up yet and decided for this occasion maybe it'd be better if he didn't. ‘On this boat, I met this peculiar man, Altair. He was a preacher, and well, as the journey went on I got to know him in ways I didn't want to. He was so nice, he was forward initially.’

‘I see, and this guy, you…?’

‘I… I maybe- Perhaps I was infatuated with him, at some point.’ Arodan withdrew one of his hands to rub his face in apparent shame and agony. ‘Too much to see what he was doing to me. The one time I didn't obey him, it was to see a doctor because I was growing so terribly sick I thought I was dying.’ He unburied his face from his hands and took a deep shaky breath. ‘That night, I remember he approached me privately and as soon as no one was around, that he dropped his cheery facade, hit me over the head with a book and I'm pretty certain that he broke nearly all of my ribs that day. The places where one couldn't see the bruises and such, and because I was already sick no one suspected that.’

‘That's horrible.’

‘Yeah right? It's… Stupid I let him do that to me.’ A little laugh even escaped Arodan. ‘You know, that wasn't enough for him, apparently. When that happened, he dragged me over to the nearest chair by my hair and tied me down and well… After that everything is blurry. I just know that something he did sent me in a spiral of visions showing me the worst things imaginable, what I fear most.’ He grew hazy-eyed and his gaze slowly drifted back on his hand that still tangled with Atlas’. ‘Next morning, I woke up, disheveled with my ribs misaligned and feeling like the world grew a little lonelier.’ He closed his eyes. ‘I shouldn't have fallen for him, I know. And there's people that have it worse, so I shouldn't make this as big of a deal, look at me, I tried to scare you guys off because of this-’

'Dan?' Arodan could see Atlas had started to reach for him but paused. When he continued to reach, he still hesitated, drawing back whenever Arodan seemed to shake. Finally, when he did touch him, it was to wipe away tears he hadn't noticed welling up. On Atlas' fingers were black smears that he studied with narrowed eyes. 'Of course there's people that have it worse. That doesn't make your hurt you haven't had the opportunity to cope with yet any less important.'

'How can you say that?' He bit his tongue a little and felt something akin to blood may have started to stream out. His chest ached more painfully than all the other pain at the moment as if it could burst, as if someone has stuck one hundred spears into him. 'You even- I mean, look at me, look at what's on your hands. It's not important what I feel.'

'It is. It's to me, it's to the others.' He looked off the balcony towards the ocean. 'If you want to leave, I will not stop you. But I want to help you Dan, I like you.' He seemed careful in what he was saying. 'Me saying I like you won't soften the pain, I know that, but it does mean I'll be with you along the way.' He looked once more at his hand and the black smears started to fade away. 'Shade infection doesn't matter to me either, even if it scares me.'

'I'm sorry for that.' Arodan apologetically lowered his head. 'When did you know I was Shade infected? And why keep me around if you knew?'

'Kassa had a feeling of sorts, back when you first met them.’ Atlas said. ‘And you didn’t harm us now, did you? If anything-‘ He put his hand on Arodan’s chest and pat it. ‘Yours is dormant. You’ve already been treated once I noticed.’

‘That’s… That’s true.’ He glanced away. ‘I worry though. I mean, what if it springs up without warning-‘

‘It won’t.’ Atlas stubbornly responded. ‘You know, just sorta… What's the word, you need to assess what it acts on, and stop yourself when you feel that way, take a moment to breathe.’ He gestured vaguely between them. ‘Kassa said that. It attaches itself to a specific emotion and grows stronger as that emotion surges. You get me?’

‘Yes, I get it.’ He grimaced and then let a faint smile slip through. It was rather funny to him how Atlas attempted to explain something serious like this. ‘Atlas, I have one more question.’

‘Well, shoot dude.’ Atlas grinned, his ears perking up curiously.

‘What do you think about me?’ The question came surprisingly easy to Arodan and it seemed to even surprise Atlas at the moment who immediately seemed to think of what was the best answer to give. ‘Maybe that’s a little weird actually-‘

‘I mean, I like you, I told you right?’ Atlas quickly answered. He assuredly pat Arodan’s shoulder with his free hand. ‘In the friend sense and romantic sense if you’re up for it.’

‘Oh, well, that’s…’ Wait, hold on, Arodan thought. He gave pause, momentarily scratched his eyepatch, and then slowly like a boat ramming the shore head on he processed what Atlas said. ‘Uh.’ He turned. ‘Um…?’

‘I said if you’re up for it. I ain’t putting you in an situations you’re not comfortable with.’ Atlas said, and his hand withdrew from Arodan’s. ‘And I know I’m ravishly good looking but you know, that shouldn’t be the only reason.’ He smiled, but now looked searching as if he feared he had said something wrong.

‘I’m… Speechless.’ He hadn’t been in a long time. Only a few people throughout his life had managed to inflict such a state on him. ‘That’s a bit contradictory- what am I…’ He took a deep breath and with a heated face and fumbling hands he turned to Atlas. ‘I like you too. In that sense. But it’s also a little too soon for me, and I need some time.’

‘... Okay.’ Atlas whispered, his grin softening to something that maybe was too grave for him, that painted him in heartfelt and illuminating manner. ‘Want to still be friends or-‘

‘Of course. Above all, we’re friends. I want to know you as well as I can to make this work.’ He sought Atlas’ hand on his own now and tangled his fingers with his. ‘I’d like to not mess up and know how to apologize if I do. Because I’m not perfect in the slightest. Just give me the time to find myself again, so I can be the best person for you I can be.’

‘I think you’ll be fine Danny.’ Atlas said, and stifled a giggle. ‘We’ll be fine. I can do slow.’

'Slow's good. Quiet is good.' Arodan hummed, and he let go to lean on the railing. Atlas followed him and didn't respond, but by his breathing he sounded at peace with the quiet. The sun had started to sink beneath the ocean and nothing but the wind disturbed their moment. Only when the door opened again the silence was fully broken.

'Hello boys.'

'Yo, Kassa.' Atlas turned, paused, and then dropped on one knee. 'And my liege, I see.'

'No need for formalities now Atlas, rise.' Balam said, his voice not sounding as loud and booming now that he was outside. Arodan turned now too and could see Kassa wore something more akin to a very furry and large bathrobe that glistened with every movement, and that Balam was dressed in a considerably plain shirt and pants. 'How are you two? You seem rather jovial, Arodan.'

'You could say that.' Arodan said, bowing his head respectfully to Balam. 'I'm… I'm happy yes. Probably the best I've felt in a while.' He could guess Atlas was grinning at him at the moment. 'I didn't think that could happen.'

'That must be a surprise for you.' Balam came to stand besides him and Kassa tailed after him. They had already been in the process of lighting their pipe and looked like they intended not to speak, the bags that were visible from under their glasses only emphasizing this. Atlas joined Arodan's left hand side and listened in, enjoying the sounds of the ocean to himself. 'Will you be safe tomorrow? The offer still stands for you to remain inside the city.'

'I'd rather be out on the battlefield sir. Besides, I wasn't planning to die.' He sounded a little snippy as he spoke but meant it with only good intentions. 'I have reasons not to and I want to somehow repay the comfort you have provided me.'

Balam chuffed in response and rubbed his hands together. Although he looked tired he wore a mischievous smile that was if not a little infectious. 'Well, you wouldn't have to repay us. After all, this started with us locking you up.' He leant his hands on the railing. 'But any reason that makes you want to stay alive is good, after all, there's things I still have to discuss with you.'

'Like what?'

'Books. Cooking. Maybe I'll have you teach me the fine art of jewelry making.' Balam held up his hands apologetically. 'Would you be able to teach me this despite my big and very unrefined hands?'

'... Yes. Yes of course.' Arodan should have known Balam wouldn't have wanted to discuss something serious, just something that clearly meant a lot to him. 'We'll start on something less refined and then work our way up. If you can cook well, you can adapt that finesse.'

'We'll see.' He nudged Arodan and looked out over the ocean. He looked melancholic as he did but at least not as stressed as he had seemed the earlier days. 'Thank you Arodan.'

'Dan will do fine sir.' That caused Balam to have and stifle a laugh and he ended up burying his face into his arm as if it was the funniest thing he had heard that day. Things will be fine, Arodan thought. He could hope. Along the way Carmen, Caer, and Langdon who paled compared to the heights of the others joined. He sat on Balam's shoulder in bipedal form, while Carmen had elbowed Kassa out of the way whose coat seemed like one big shockbreaker, They didn't say anything beyond the complaint that it was getting far too busy. Caer remained watching by the door with a self assured smile.

Maybe this was home. Only Epoch was-

'Epoch!' In a flurry of brown, blue-tipped feathers Carmen welcomed Epoch into her arms who flew right into her embrace. The two crashed onto the deck laughing and yelling to each other, their tails tangling. Luckily Epoch had shifted to a more manageable form, Arodan thought, since he would have crushed the rest of the group this way. No one really gave them any thought, since Epoch and Carmen had already engaged into a long winded and fast spoken conversation about Epoch's travels, holding each other's hands through it.

'So, boy-' Kassa slipped around Balam and snugly ended up next to Arodan. 'You ready?' The coat almost swallowed Arodan's side and he was a little worried he might drown in it somehow. 'Thought about what death looks like yet?'

'No. I'm not as nihilistic as you are at the moment.' Arodan grumbled. Atlas nudged him at his other side and he righted himself. 'I'm sure it's cold and lonely.'

'Well, as opposed to you I'm rather fond of thinking of death as a living concept. You know, someone who looks after you in the life beyond.' They said. Their lips twisted into a sly smirk as if they were intentionally attempting to prod Arodan into a corner. 'Meeting them sometimes, wouldn't that be nice?'

'Implying I should die?'

'No. If you're a sensible person, get yourself a medium darling.' Kassa pat him idly, the entire coat swishing around. 'You can meet Death and not die.'

'Usually you don't just meet Death. It usually means you're dying or dead.' He waved his hands around rested them on the railing once he lowered them. 'Is this a perspective thing? Have you met Death or something?'

'Yes to both those questions.' Kassa said, and they immediately snickered darkly knowing they knew a lot more things than Arodan within this subject. 'That is all I will share with you.'

'I'm not sure if this is a particular conversation I'd like to have anyway.' Arodan responded with finality and he turned away to look at Atlas. Kassa was still smiling at him, that much he could guess. He went quiet again, and found it in himself to smile again. Atlas shot him a curious look but grinned in return and nudged him with his shoulder so they stood joined side by side. Arodan threw one more longing glance over the people by the railing who stood mostly silent thinking of their fates except Epoch and Carmen who spoke as if there wasn't a care in the world and all was right. Arodan, as jaded as he was could find himself in that sentiment at the moment.

#my lore #fr #The Paramo Court #ch: Arodan #ch: Atlas #ch: Balam #ch: Carmen #ch: Kassa #ch: Epoch #ch: Caer #ch: Langdon #I have no idea if this is too fast a development hmmmmmm #but I am also quite a few pages in