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#visage; the mercenary
autoacafiles · 2 years
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Necromaster is the creation of @necromastersdomainstuff
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the-trails-we-blaze · 1 month
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Tag Dump
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regularshcw · 6 months
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em tag dump !
🐾 em // ic / should've known that you've been dancing with a wolf 🐾 em // musings / in love i've always been a mercenary 🐾 em // about / but it's really quite alarming 'cause I'm such an awful fuck 🐾 em // likes / aesthetics / living with identities that do not belong to me 🐾 em // music / that voice in your head is just me in your headphones 🐾 em // starter call / i'll kill anyone who gets in my way 🐾 em // visage / these are the devil's eyes
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enneadchosen · 2 years
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tag drop.
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celaenaeiln · 10 months
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Bruce: *sees a motorcade come up on his right* *ignores*
Timmy in the back eying the group suspiciously: ….
*tapping on glass*
Dick: B, there’s someone tapping on my side.
Bruce: Don’t roll the window down they could be-
Dick: *already rolling the window down* *GASP* ROMMEY?! ROMMEY! ROMMEY!!
A 45 yr old grizzled man with a smoker’s voice, nicknamed Rommey by Dick: heya Dickie, how it’s going kiddo.
Dick: ROMMEY IM SO EXCITED TO SEE YOU AGAIN!
Another motorbiker with a full claw scar down his face: what about the rest of us, kid? Forget about us?
Dick: MANES! DERRICKA! IZZY!!
Derrick-I take down mercenaries for fun but let a kid I like call me DERRICKA-Rolan: You little shit, why’d we not hear from you after you fucked off to neverland huh?!
Isabella-what? Someone went missing? I had nothing to do with it, it’s total coincidence that I hated him-Hodges: Maybe he doesn’t like us, Der. That right, Dickie?
Dick: *flabbergasted* No!! It’s a long story! After I left I ran out of gas and then some girl crashed into my bike and sent it flying off the cliff but I dove off it first and then I had to walk to the nearest motel on bare feet because I gave her my shoes and then I met this half bear half man and I’ll be pleased to tell you that it was a beary bearable encounter once he got his bearings hahahahaha- *progressively climbing out of the car as the story goes on*
Bruce: Dick! Get back in the car! *having one hand on the steering wheel and grabbing the back of his shirt with the other to keep his wayward son from falling out*
Dick: Wait- *accidently twisting too far and nearly braining himself on the speeding asphalt*
Rommey: DICK!
Bruce: DICK!
Rommey, Derricka, Izzy, and Manes: *grabbing the front half to prevent Dick from becoming like two-face*
Bruce: *letting go of the wheel to grab Dick’s bottom half for the same reason*
Tim: *high pitched screaming from the back* DICK! Tₕₑ Wₕₑₑₗ! ₜₕₑ Wₕₑₑₗ!!!
Bruce: *struggling to pull his son in while the motorcade struggles to pull him out to sit on a bike thus leading to Dick hanging in limbo out the window of a car going 80mph on a freeway* GRAB THE WHEEL TIM
Tim: *sacrificing a few ribs on the edge of the front car seat* IM TRYING! I CANT REACH THE CRUISE CONTROL AND DONT LEAN BACK AND OH MY GOD SIGN POST! SIGN POST! THE POST! THE POSSSTTTTT!!!
Dick, Bruce, Tim, and motorcade: *furious screaming and shouting and panicking*
*2 hours later*
*Arriving at the manor*
Jason: damn what happened to you lot, you look like you went through hell and back.
Bruce and Tim: *drained, pale-faced, messy, sweating, and heaving*
Dick: *a curl of hair falling elegantly into his shining eyes* I just had the time of my life, Jay!
Jason who is well acquainted with Dick’s “Time of the life”s: ah. My condolences.
Tim: Never again. *flopping on the ground and cater-pilling his way up the stairs*
Damian: Father, this is such disgraceful attire! Fix yourself at once, mother would be embarrassed by such a visage! What in holy reincarnation have you been doing?!
Bruce: Never again, Dick.
Dick: it’s nothing Dami, they were just helping me.
Damian: Father, I am ashamed of you. Why must you devolve to such a state when you assist Grayson, he is perfectly capable of extraordinary feats without your input. I suggest you refrain from interfering with his success again.
Bruce:
Bruce: Damian, you-
Dick: Bruce. *smiling pleasantly*
Jason: *immediately sneaking off*
Bruce’s life momentarily flashing before his eyes: …..nothing. Go finish your homework. *trudging off to whine to Alfred about how no one’s gonna believe him*
Dick: *sincerely* what a great day! 😊
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whereserpentswalk · 5 months
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Was there a first time a human killed a dragon? What did they think? Was it bronze or copper that was the first human alchemy to break their scales after thousands of years of weapons shattering against armor? Their horses finally fast enough to charge and doge them, their armors finally thick enough to protect from their venom.
Did the first human to kill a dragon think they would die? Did they attack the creature out of spite only to see blood flow onto the head of their bronze axe? Or was it a plan, had they tested it before? Did the dragon laugh to see a human try to attack them? Or were they killed from behind, not even knowing what humanity was becoming for them? What was the first time a dragon feared a human, when did they first realize something so small was going to kill them?
Did the first dragon slayer even know? Did they know how many people they were freeing? Did they know that their people weren't always going to fear having their treasures stolen, fear having their crops burnt, fear being ruled over by something inhuman?
How long did it take for the dragons to know? They had lived long enough to see humanity grow from apes, and in what must have felt like moments to them, how did they react? When did they first see one of their brothers dead, and realize what killed it? How did they feel moving from castles to caves, as humans sent mercenaries, then legionaries, then knights, then musketeers? What was the last dragon to tyrannize humanity? Who was the last dragon to call himself king?
Who was the first human to ride a dragon? Did the first dragon to be ridden remember when humans were their slaves? Who was the first human to take the power of their oppressors for themself?
Who was the first human to kill an eldrich horror? What did they think? Was it the laser or the bullet that was the first human science to break their distorted bodies after thousands of years of weapons shattering against their paradox. Their planes finally fast enough to swoop and dodge them, their goggles finally thick enough for their visage not to drive them mad.
How many humans will be the first to tell their oppressor, "You are no longer the predator"...
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arc-misadventures · 5 months
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A Solider, A Huntsman, And A Monster
They made a wide berth around me as I walked through the halls of, Atlas Academy. Many moved to the side to make way for my presence, others stopped in their walking to jump back in alarm as they saw my ghastly visage before them. I tended to create, although involuntarily, stirs around people who haven’t seen me.
Although, many offered me a kind, and polite nod of the head in acknowledgment as they saw me walk by. These were mostly the rank, and file soldiers you would find strewn about the academy. Be they enlisted, or officers, my actions in the defence of, Atlas, and Mantle had earned me their respect, and mine in turn.
But, peoples fear of me would have to wait, General Ironwood wanted to speak with me, and I for one wasn’t planning to keep him waiting, especially since his summons seemed rather urgent. A notion that filled my broken soul with unease.
When I reached the doors leading to, General Ironwood’s office I softly knocked on the door, and entered. Well, what what I thought was a soft knock made a sound more akin to a hammer pounding warped steel. I looked down at my right hand, inspecting the white bone plate upon it, as I entered the generals office.
Jaune: My apologies… I thought that was knocking softly… evidently not.
Ironwood: It is quite alright, Mr. Arc. Please do come in.
As I entered his office I saw several other individuals in the room. Specialist Winter Schnee, Specialist Ebi Clover, several of Atlas’s council members, including its latest addition, Robyn Hill. My gaze lingered upon her longer than others, but it was soon put to an ease as she walked over, and held out her hand.
Robyn: It’s a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Arc. How are you feeling?
I took her hand in mine, and simply replied:
Jaune: I’m doing fine.
There was genuine concern within her voice. Robyn, and I had created an ammoniacal relationship between the two of us. I found her presence calming, and her smile comforting, but more importantly I could use her semblance to gauge my mind’s true feelings. And, based upon the red grow that emanated from our hands. Well, there was much lies to be told.
Robyn: You’re lying, Jaune.
Jaune: To myself, or you? That’s the real question…
Robyn gave me a sad smile as she pulled away, patting my arm as she turned to stand beside her colleagues.
I thought my night with, Willow would have lifted my mood. But, seemingly only on the surface it had been lifted. But, now wasn’t the time for mopping about, or swallowing myself up in rage. I was summoned here for a reason after all. What that was, was the question.
Jaune: So, you wanted to speak with me, General Ironwood? May I assume this is about my work schedule, and teaching documents that I will need? Or, perhaps some individuals have voiced their objections to me becoming a teacher at, Atlas Academy because of various… circumstances.
I cast a cautionary glance to my left, I gazed upon the gaggle of council members currently present. I couldn’t blame them if they objected to my appointment as a teacher, I was a for the better part, a Valian after all, and not an, Atlasian. Many would find pause in that alone. Taking into consideration me being a Grimm/human hybrid, well, I’m still surprised I’m not locked up in another lab getter poked, and proded, again.
James saw through my not so subtle pointed questions, and smiled softly at that, and he shook his head dismissively.
Ironwood: No, no nothing of the sort. This is about something else all entirely.
Jaune: And, that would be?
Ironwood: I, General James Ironwood would like to, on the behave of, Kingdom of Atlas, and Mantle, would like you to offer you a military commission.
The eyebrow over my left eye rose as I looked at him skeptically.
Jaune: You want to buy my services as a mercenary? But, I’m already a Huntsman working for, Atlas Academy. Aren’t I already a mercenary under a contract?
General Ironwood, and the Specialists all looked at me wide eyed for a moment before bursting our in a small fit of laughter. Even, councilwoman, Robyn Hill chuckled at my expense.
Ironwood: Hahaaa… No, Mr. Arc, what I’m saying is that I want to offer you a position as an officer in the, Atlas Military. The process of doing so is called, ‘a military commission.’
My head nodded in understanding at the terminology, but I was nonetheless confused.
Jaune: I understand, but why are you doing this? Don’t I need to serve in the, Atlas Military for a while to become an officer?
Ironwood: Normally yes, however, Hunter’s, such as the, Specialists have, Huntsman level of training, and are a part of the, Atlas Military. This exemption to the rules also applies to you as well, since you were gifted you, Huntsmen license from, Atlas Academy. And, as for why we’re offering you a commission, well there are several reasons.
I could see an almost nervous sense of unease fill the room. I looked towards, Winter, and caught her gazing at me, her eyes quickly darted away from me. I did the same to other members of the, Specialists, and they gave the same distant look, but, Robyn kept her eyes locked with mine unlike the rest. Interesting.
I tore my vision away from, Robyn to look back at, Ironwood, and ask the question he wanted me to ask.
Jaune: And, those reasons would do doubt have to do with, Salem’s attack upon, Mantle, and Atlas, no?
Ironwood: You are correct. We lost a lot of people that day… Mostly soldiers who sacrificed their lives in the defence of, Atlas, and Mantle people. And, while we lost many of the common rank, and file soldiers, we have lost far more officers than we can allow.
I looked at him with a mild sense of confusion, his words didn’t add up. I knew the body count of that day, I knew how many soldiers died, I knew who were the grunts, and who were the officers among that number. I knew how many civilians they saved that day was, and I knew how many they couldn’t save that day. I knew all too well, and I could never forget.
Jaune: Unless I am mistaken the total casualty numbers for the day people have dubbed, ‘The Siege of Atlas,’ was around three hundred, and thirty eight, Of that number, one hundred, and seven were civilians, leaving that count being that there were two hundred, and thirty one casualties sustained by military personnel. Now, not counting the casualties sustained by the, Atlasian Knights, which I believe is around, three hundred, and ninety two. That number of, two hundred, and thirty one only, forty one of them were officers. Now, if we are not counting the nine, Paladin pilots who also lost their lives among that count. Since I assume you are counting officers that were in positions of command, and any soldier who is, ‘Fitted for their suit,’ as the slang goes is gifted the rank of lieutenant upon graduation. So that would leave approximately, thirty two officers who lost their lives in the line of duty. Now I mean to speak no ill of the dead, but is that not considered, ‘An acceptable casualty rating?’
My words may have been as simple as reading a causality report, but the shocked looks I received from those present was odd. It seems like they didn’t expect me to know the exact casualty rates we experienced that day, and based upon how, Ironwood was over looking a series of documents in front of him he couldn’t believe it either.
Ironwood: You are correct, those were indeed the casualty numbers we received that day. And, the number of three hundred, and thirty eight fatalities among the enlisted personnel, the officer core, and civilians is indeed, ‘an acceptable causalty rating.’
: An acceptable casualty rating?!
I looked of to one of the council members, a lady whose name was, Mrs. Alicia Ophilia. She seethed in a cold, and silent rage as she started us down at our seemingly disconcert regards towards the glorious dead.
Alicia: I for one do not consider over three hundred dead civilians, and military personnel as an acceptable casualty rating! How can you be so callous, and emotionless towards such a substantial lose of life?!
Myself, Ironwood, the Specialist, and even, Councillor Hill understood fully well the reason behind her rage. Which made the cold, grim logic behind, Winter’s following words all the more damning on an already weery soul.
Winter: If I may, Mrs. Ophilia. The term: ‘Acceptable casualty rating,’ is an euphemism used by the military, and huntsmen alike to address casualties, or destruction inflicted by an enemy force that is considered minor, or tolerable.
Alicia: Tolerable?
Robyn: Please put it into perspective, Alicia; we lost over three hundred people during the attack, and out of two cities whose total population nears ten thousand, which would you prefer; one thousand dead, or three hundred dead?
Mrs. Ophilia looked at the group of soldiers, and Huntsmen before her, and as she processed the words spoken to her, and gave a heavy sigh as she relented.
Alicia: I concede. You are right: Theee hundred dead is a more… acceptable number… than one thousand dead.
Jaune: While I agree with you, Mrs Ophilia, that one death is one too many, I was actually referring to the casualty rating among the officers, not the total amount of dead. Wouldn’t losing thirty two officers be acceptable, surely there is more than enough soldiers to fill in the holes they departure has created.
Ironwood: That is the case, and those officers positions have been refilled by newly promoted soldiers. I’m afraid to say we lost more than thirty two officers.
Jaune: What? How?!
Shock roared through my voice causing others to jump back from me, I could see, Harriet from the corner of my eye adopting a combative stance. Their shock was understandable, but they mistook my cry of alarm for one of rage. An understandable reaction at the end of the day; I sound like a monster as much as I now look like one.
Jaune: My apologizes. My voice betrays my mood. I am not angry, but shocked that we lost so many officers. But, how did this happen, did we have a sudden, Grimm attack, or something?
Ironwood: We didn’t lose any more officers to the, Grimm after that. We did lose an additional forty seven officers, most of whom were dishonourably discharged afterwards though.
Jaune: Dishonourably discharged?
The confusion laced within my voice was just as loudly heard as the silent rage that echoed from the, Generals.
Ironwood: Yes, you are aware of what a, ‘bought officer,’ is?
Jaune: A corrupt officer?
Ironwood: No… Well it wouldn’t surprise me a few if a few of those officers weren’t taking money on the side to look the other way. But, no, a ‘bought officer’ is a slang for officers who purchase their rank with lien, not years of dedication to, Atlas, and its people.
Jaune: You have such officers in your ranks? That doesn’t seem like something you would allow.
Ironwood: And, I wouldn’t have. But, a contract made by the founders over a hundred years ago said we had too, and it would have taken just under another hundred years ago for it to expire. Luckily, taking in the results recent attack in mind, I was given the ability to remove such a contract, and the filth it brought with it from our ranks.
Jaune: And, the individual reason these officers were removed?
Ironwood: General cowardice: abandoning their post, leaving their men behind, trying to steal military craft to flee, Atlas. Simple things such as that.
Jaune: Ahh, well that certainly explains things…
I could remember seeing individuals fleeing from the frontlines at the beginning of the battle, all wearing officer’s uniforms now that I think about it. I couldn’t pay too much mind to it though, there were too many pressing matters to attend to at the time.
Jaune: And, you want to offer me an officers commission to fill in one of these missing positions?
Ironwood: Yes. You would still be a teacher at the academy, you would just also have an officers rank, and be expected, if the need arise to, to lead troops upon the battlefield.
Jaune: Just like what I did during, Salem’s attack?
Ironwood: Correct.
He wanted me to be an officer. An officer in the, Atlas Military. It sounded like in the end I would just have a change of clothes, and some pretty bobbles on my uniform. But, I looked down to my right hand, and thought hard about his offer. The white bone plate that covered my hand, and the pale skin that rested below it. I wasn’t human anymore, would these soldiers follow my orders into battle? During the, Seige it was different; There were no officers, just soldiers fighting for their lives. I gave them orders, and commanded them to obey my commands, saving thousands in the process. But, that was in the midst of a battle, the largest, and most deadly battle, Atlas had ever experienced. Would these soldiers be willing to follow my orders, the orders of a monster during a time of relative peace?
Ironwood: They recommend you.
Jaune: Excuse me?
I was ripped from my musing at the, Generals words. I was recommended for this position; By who, and why?
Ironwood: Several of the soldiers you fought along side that day were also promoted, and made officers to fill in the ranks. Now we have competent, and skilled officers in our ranks. But, while these officers were being promoted, they often asked the same question: Is the, Hero of Mantle, Jaune Arc joining us?
Jaune: H-Hero of Mantle? Are people calling me that?
Robyn: Its the name the people have given you for your heroic acts for saving them that day.
Jaune: Hero…?
Robyn: Jaune…
I looked up to see that, Robyn was holding my left hand in a comforting grip as she softly smiled at me.
Robyn: Regardless of what you think, people don’t see you as a monster.
Jaune: They don’t?
Robyn: No. People see as a victim of the horrendous acts of a true monster. They see you as a man who risked his life to save them. You are a hero to them, Jaune. You are not the monster you believe yourself to be. You are, Jaune Arc, the Saviour of Mantle.
I couldn’t help, but snort at her words.
Jaune: ‘The Saviour of Mantle.’ Sounds a little much now doesn’t it?
Robyn: Well, it’s shows you how the people truly see you as.
Jaune: But, I’m just a huntsman doing my duty. There’s nothing more to it than that. I
Robyn: But, don’t you like being called a hero?
Jaune: No, not really.
Robyn: You sure about that?
I looked at her skeptically before staring down at my hand enveloped in a red glow. I looked back to, Robyn’s cheeky smile as I swatted her hands away.
Jaune: Stop doing that!
Robyn: Not going to happen.
Jaune: Damn…
Ironwood: So, Mr. Arc, what do you say?
I turned away from, Robyn to address, General Ironwood. I straightened my back, and stood tall before everyone with my hands held firmly behind my back.
Jaune: If, if I accept this offer I would like to make one request.
He quirked, and eyebrow at me, as he straightened his back in turn to address me.
Ironwood: And, that would be?
Jaune: A custom uniform that would fit me properly, and new armour as well. My bodies… alterations have made my armour rather cumbersome to wear.
Ironwood smiled as he took in my simple request.
Ironwood: I think we can do that. Anything else?
Jaune: No that is all. In any case, I humbly accept my commission to… uhh… what rank will I be receiving… Sir?
Ironwood: You can save the ‘sirs’ until after your commission. As for your rank; taking into consideration the deeds you’ve accomplished in the service of, Atlas, and Mantle. We have agreed on giving you the rank of, Colonel.
Jaune: Does this mean I will outrank the, Specialists?
Ironwood: As a matter in fact, you will indeed outrank the, Specialists.
Jaune: Oh good… Now, Marrow can be the one getting me coffee instead… Heheheee…
Everyone seemingly flinched as I chuckled to myself. If, Marrow’s face was saying if he had a pair of ears instead of a tail, they would have dropped in fear.
Jaune: …
Jaune: That did not sound like I was making a teasing remark in the slightest did it?
The resounding choir of nos soon swiftly answered my question.
Jaune: Great, not only did he turn me into a monster, but he took away my ability to make a joke… Godsdamn bastard…
Everyone seemed to find something else to look at, all seemingly not wanting to comment on my feelings towards that particular monster. Like there was anything else to comment on it anyway.
Ironwood: Ahem. The award ceremony where you will be granted your new rank will take place in a week from today. I recommend you get fitted soon, so they can make your new uniform soon.
Jaune: I understand, will that be all?
Ironwood: That’s everything. I look forward to working with, Mr. Arc.
Jaune: Likewise, General.
We grasped one another’s hands in a firm handshake, before others came along, and also gave me congratulatory hand shakes as well. The Specialists were open, and receptive to my commission, while Marrow did look nervous as I teasingly smiled at him. Though I doubt it was very teasing, a smile filled with fangs no doubt always looked threatening.
The council members gave me celebratory handshakes as well, they were pleased with my appointment to become a colonel. No doubt for some political bullshit they were planning to use me in.
But, then there was, Robyn.
Robyn: So, Jaune, how does it feel to become an officer in the, Atlas Military?
Jaune: Ask me again when I’ve dawn on the uniform.
Robyn: I’ll have to remember to do that. I’m glad you accepted the offer, the other two council members are actually opposed to your appointment. You no doubt understand why.
I looked towards the other councillors as they addressed, General Ironwood. No doubt talking about future plans, and meetings they must attend to. However, as I looked upon the three of them a thought crossed my mind.
Jaune: Wait… Two votes for, and two votes against? You were the deciding vote.
Robyn: I was, and I voted: For.
Jaune: Why? You don’t trust, General Ironwood, and the military, why would you agree to have me instated in the military?
Robyn: Because I trust you, Jaune. I trust that with your calm head, you will be able to keep the others in check. That with your help we can lead, Mantle into a brighter future for the good of everyone.
Jaune: A brighter future lead by a, Grimm/human hybrid? I find that hard to believe. No, Robyn you are the Bannerman, the one leading others to a brighter tomorrow with hope as your forge a better future. I however, will be the sword that protects that future. I am more suited for that role. Soldiers can easily follow a monster into a war, but not in peace.
Robyn: Jaune, just because you look like a monster doesn’t mean you are a monster.
My head fell as I shook my head. Blind optimism fuelled by hope, I never thought I would miss someone talking like that. At least, Robyn has a realistic head on her shoulders. But, still blind optimism will never help me.
Jaune: We’re all monsters, Robyn. We may not look like ones since we’ve all been well groomed, are well dressed, and given etiquette lessons. Some monsters wear the skin of monsters, others wear the skin of humans. But, it doesn’t matter, because at the end of the day we’re all just monsters, now we’re just well dressed monsters.
Robyn: Well dressed monsters…
Robyn looked away from me as she pondered my words before she shook it away before looking back at me with this mad glint in her eyes.
Robyn: Jaune, are you busy this afternoon?
Jaune: I was going to grab my teaching manifest, and study what I need to be teaching the students. Why do you ask?
Robyn: Class doesn’t start for two weeks, you can put that off until tomorrow. Come with me, there’s a victory celebration being held in, Mantle.
Jaune: A victory celebration? But, the Siege was over a month ago, why are you having one now?
Robyn: The Siege turned everyone’s lives upside down, people needed time to rebuild, to morn those they lost. The people of, Mantle need to let loose, and relax. To let the burdens of, The Siege fade away, so we can all move on from it. So, we’re going to have a massive party to do so. So, would you like to come?
Her logic made sound sense, but I wasn’t sure if this was a good idea, I would probably cause a small panic, being a monster, and all. But, the people of, Mantle do call me, ‘The Hero of Mantle,’ so maybe they might actually enjoy me being there. But, I had to ask something very important before I offer her any answer.
Jaune: Will I have to give a speech?
Robyn: No I don’t think you would will have to.
Jaune: I’ll hold you to that.
Robyn: So you’ll come?
Jaune: I will, but don’t expect me to dance.
Robyn: We’ll see about that. Come on, Jaune we have a party to go to.
I hope this will be fun event. a chance to unwind, and relax, just as, Robyn said. But, honestly I just hope this wouldn’t be an event that I would come to regret.
I can at least hope for that right.
Right?
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visage-of-hell · 2 months
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(Starter for @sirserpentine: Another busy night at Kingdom Cum, as was often the case on the weekends. Thankfully, all of her staff were bringing their A-game that night and for the most part, all she had to do was supervise from a distance and socialize with any of the bigger movers and shakers that decided to make token appearances. Aside from a weapons shipment scheduled for sometime later into the evening, it was shaping up to be a fairly uneventful shift. Or so the Overlord thought. From her usual spot on her favorite lounge cushion near the bar, the lupine was entertaining herself blowing smoke rings while watching Lyra's newest pole dance routine on stage. As usual, she was nailing it. She couldn't keep a proud smile from creasing her muzzle as she murmured under her breath, "That's my girl." "Boss?" A new voice came from just to her right, her ear swiveling towards it before she turned to regard the individual with a vaguely annoyed expression. If they were referring to her as 'Boss', she already knew who they were and their presence irked her when it wasn't specifically requested. "...What...?" The agitation in her tone was readily apparent. Unphased by his employer's cadence, the hellhound mercenary motioned with a thumb over his shoulder, in the direction of the club's front entrance. "Someone's askin' for you. Some kinda snake guy? Says he knows you." For a few seconds, Visage's mind scanned through the various names and faces she had met as of late that might match that description, before it finally dawned on her. The patron from the hotel. She snapped her fingers in recognition, her mood doing an immediate 180-degree turn. "Riiiiiiight! That guy! Yeah, sure, send 'em my way." She couldn't even begin to imagine what an eccentric fellow like him would want with a place like this, but far be it for her to judge. He was owed his R & R just the same as anyone else, after all.
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ownedbythescribe · 1 year
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Wanderer/Scaramouche | Heard Wish
ıllı Synopsis: Short Crack Sequel to Small Wish
ıllı Genre: Fluff, Romance
ıllı Notes: Gender Neutral Reader
ıllı A/N: I had been thinking of a short sequel to the ‘Small Wish’ I wrote for Tighnari. Thank you @koukiasterin for the idea! Please enjoy! Also something to post before the Tighnari one.
ıllı Part 1: Wanderer/Scaramouche - Small Wish
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'Not to interrupt this ending, (Y/N), but you might want to tell Tighnari that you're a living person. I think you spook the living mushrooms out of him after Little Collei asked who he was talking to from your last visit.' Nahida urged. You blinked owlishly at her words before shouting at Wanderer to wait for you as you rushed back to your shared room to change.
Wanderer raised an eyebrow at your antics but waited for you to come back. It had not been long, but the moment you came out, he thought to himself how lucky he was to be your lover.
“You’re dressed fashionably? Off to somewhere?” He asked, mildly concerned about your getup. You combed the stray hair back and relayed the Dendro Archon’s message earlier. He scoffed and held your waist to his, nuzzling his head to the nape of your neck. You flushed red at the affection.
“Don’t worry, I’ll come back soon enough. I’ll also visit the Aranaras on the way.” You whispered, the soft tone lacing your voice melting him. It took a few seconds before he let go.
“I’ll come with you to Vanarana. I hope the stupid blue vegetable won’t toss my hat again to Archon knows where.” He groaned, already imagining how Ararycan would appear from behind and grab his hat. The Aranara had a strange attachment to his hat and loved to play frisbee with it. You lightly chuckled before kissing his cheeks and pulling him out of the house.
After locking the door, Wanderer insisted that he would accompany you to the entrance of the city before going to the Sanctuary of Surasthana. You sulked and informed him there was no need, but could you blame the man? He did not want to part from you after your reconciliation. If he was given a choice, he would rather spend it on your lap, lazing like a cat. Oh, how he wished he was one.
“All right. I’ll go back here after my talk with Tighnari then we can go together to Vanarana. I’ll see you later, Kuni. Love you!” You grinned, sprinting away before he could even react. However, you knew that your words alone flustered him to Celestia. It was an amusing sight.
The path from Sumeru City to Gandharva Ville was short. It only took nearly an hour and a half to reach it on foot. The moment you entered the village, you were greeted by an elder and a mercenary. You immediately inquired about the availability of the Forest Watcher. This caught the attention of a forest ranger by the name of Amir.
“You’re looking for our Forest Watchleader? May I kindly ask what business you have with him?” He asked. You sheepishly smiled and replied that you were a friend he made outside of Sumeru and forgot to send him a letter that you would be visiting for a couple of days.
“If I really liked it here, I might even settle down in Sumeru City. So… Is he here?” You hoped, fidgeting with the creases of your clothes. Amir, who appeared relieved, led you to his hut.
Tighnari had just finished his report and was about to head out to check on the village’s supplies when he saw Amir escorting you to his place. He froze. Remembering Collei’s words, he squinted his eyes and examined your visage for any peculiar traits that caused the others not to see you. However, there was nothing. Not to mention, Amir was animatedly talking to you.
‘Just what the heck is happening?!’ He exhausted.
At the corner of your eyes, you noticed Tighnari’s strange gaze. It took a few seconds to understand what was happening, and when you recalled the Dendro Archon’s words, you chuckled lightly.
“Tighnari! It’s been so long. How are you doing these days?” You feigned innocence. Tighnari glared at you, but you remained unfazed, even challenging the fennec fox to figure things out. Amir saw the apprehension and was about to say something when Tighnari pulled you inside his hut and informed the forest ranger he would take it from there. Amir reluctantly left.
“Hmm? Nothing’s changed since the last time I visited. Oh, wait. Reports about Withering Zone. Interesting.” You mumbled. Tighnari coughed and your attention was on him again.
“You’re… not a ghost, are you? A vengeful spirit or something more? Please tell me why you’re hunting this village. Although I doubt you’re really a supernatural being, but I can’t assume.” He voiced. You sat down by his chair and grinned.
“So what if I am a ghost? What will you do, Forest Watcher?” You asked menacingly. The hairs on Tighnari’s neck stood up, chilled by your voice, but he noticed something in your eyes. There was mirth.
“Oh, come on. You’re better than that. Now, what are you really?” He pushed. You laughed and relayed what happened the past days excluding your lover’s past. It was better to keep that to yourself. After all, Wanderer did not want others to fuss or pity him for what happened.
Tighnari, finally understanding the situation, let out a loud sigh of relief. It was good you were not a ghost or something, else he might have to call an exorcist from Liyue. That would have been embarrassing on his part. He plopped down on his bed and asked if you had gotten used to your body. A wry smile marred your face. You confessed that it was strange to feel your limbs and not have the light feeling you had as a spirit. It would definitely take time to get used to it.
“I’m just happy that I have someone by my side to help me adjust. Although, he can get a bit snarky with people. He’s still cute though!” You claimed, giggling at the thought of a certain purple head.
Tighnari shook his head at your lovestruck visage before asking where you were heading after this. Pulled out of your stupor, you informed him of your planned itinerary. He hummed in acknowledgment before standing up to hand you a summary of the report he made on the Withering Zones.
“I hope this isn’t a problem. Do you mind if you give it to Lesser Lord Kusanali? It might help the Aranaras if you break this out to them in simpler terms.” He urged. You did not mind helping him out, so you placed it in your bag and prepared to leave. It was when you noticed two Aranaras beside him. You paused.
‘What the… I thought they fear you!? Is this a new development?’ You thought. They were charmed by his swishing tail. These Aranaras, really.
“So that’s how it is.” You let out loud.
“Is there a problem, (Y/N)?” Tighnari queried.
“No, no. Just an interesting finding on my part. Anyways, I have to go now, ‘Nari! Do tell Little Collei that I’m not a ghost. Hahaha! Don’t miss me too much!” You boldly stated. The fennec fox lightly hit your head with the scroll he was holding, flustered at your words. You sheepishly grinned before leaving, feeling happy that everything was cleared up.
‘How do I make Kuni wear cat ears and tail for my experiment? I don’t know what to bribe him. Maybe a kiss?’ You cheekily thought, already curious about the outcome of the experiment you wished to conduct with him and the Aranara. From afar, you could hear a light laugh coming from a certain Archon.
“The heck are you laughing at, Buer?”
“Nothing. Just a curious mind I heard. Ah! Please don’t put it there. I still have to make adjustments to that portion.”
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Please do not copy or repost my stories, but notes and reblogs are always appreciated!
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stuckyfingers · 4 months
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Idk what I'm even writing but here is a What If extension fic about Rogers Hood singing. The whole fic is there just for the song.
“Who are you?” Strange drawled, looking at the blue-green clad mercenary looking guy.
He had been stuck in Earth-1602, successfully evading capture by the Sherriff for only so long. T'Challa from Earth-527 was supposed to get him sometime soon, but the wait had stretched into days.
He was in the Sherriff's carriage being grandly arrested by the familiar looking official and his following army of guards, when a gang of tree swinging bandits had surrounded them, forcing them to dismount. A carriage up ahead with a man in a pentagonal hat standing outside, told them that the Bishop was also undergoing a robbery.
The man in the green and blue clothes chuckled. “I’m known far and wide as a legendary outlaw, Strange Wizard!” He dropped his hood with flair, revealing his face. “I am Steven Rogers, or Rogers Hood as people have come to call me.”
“Rogers Hood?” Strange scoffed. “Not surprising though… you do tend to do illegal things in every universe.”
“’Tis the powerful that maketh legality immoral, my friend. To abide thy morals, thou must break the law.” Steve replied unfazed at the mention of universes. His gaze turned rather cold when he looked at the other people from the carriage. "Sherriff Thaddeus Ross. Pleasant morn it is, but for thy presence."
The Sheriff growled. “Thy speech of morals shield not thine acts of disgrace! Thou hast lain with men as thou would with a maiden: it is frowned upon, verily!"
The guy close beside Rogers Hood shed his own hood to raise a haughty eyebrow. The manicured beard was confusing, but it was undoubtedly Bucky Barnes.
Rogers Hood did not seem perturbed at being accused of sodomy but rather, leaned sideways to kiss Bucky on the cheek, smirking at the Sherriff. “So be it! ’Twould be thine own visage that is marred!”
“ 'Tis God’s visage that you mar!” The Bishop cried from a few yards away, rather bravely for someone being searched for coin.
“How little must thou think of Him, that a poor outlaw can change His divine skin!” Rogers cried louder, throwing his hands up like he was on Broadway. “A Bishop, indeed, thy Bishop clothes don’t hide the doubt within!”
“Uhm, Rogers Hood, could you-?” Strange started.
“Interrupt him not!” Another Merry Man with a bow- who looked like Clint Barton- who was Clint Barton, shushed him. Rogers really began singing like he was in a musical- even jumping onto a sunlit tree stump as the Sherriff watched in agony.
“How little must thou believe in thine own self to bring an army: When Merry Men are armed with naught but bows”
“But bows!” The Merry Men added.
“How little must thou find it in thy heart to be more charming: When Merry Men, we zest while in the throes!”
“The Throes!”
"Well, maidens go to Church no more, for we have larger bells!"
"AYE!"
"But we insisted they must trust the Lord!"
"The Lord!"
"And maidens who skipped Synagogues for the reasons much the same, we led them back to their fine carven doors!"
"Doors!"
The Merry Men began chanting as Rogers turned to Strange with a flourish.
"Now this fine old Wizard doth seek to know us well, what ways of ours shall we queintein him with?"
"We spend our days with parties gay under the sunny glades," Sang Bucky Barnes.
"We give the poor what we steal from the rich!" Sang the Leonardo da Vinci looking version of Sam Wilson.
"We hate the King of England and the Sheriff we hate more, the travelers of Egypt* are our kith!" sang Clint Barton.
The trees around them rang with song:
"And maidens go to Church no more, for we have larger bells- hey! But we insisted they must trust the Lord! And maidens who skipped Synagogues for the reasons much the same, we led them back to their fine carven doors!"
The Bishop grew increasingly purple with every reprise of the chorus, like he was going to explode. They actually repeated it three times before Rogers took the stage again-
"And now my sweet Bishop thou seemst burdened with thy gold-"
"Let us free thy shoulders of this weight!" Scott Lang joined in.
"For, O wretched Bishop sitting in thy Bishop clothes, you've become the very thing He hates!" Steve finished with a laugh.
The guards waited for some command from the Sherriff, but the Sherriff was far too occupied with being gagged. Dr. Strange alone was not subject to such treatment.
"Go, now!" Barnes boomed, waving a crossbow at the army. "You don't want to be caught here with us! Return to thy wives before you get arrows up thy arses!"
The guards scattered nervously casting glances at the Sherriff. They couldn't all be punished if they left together, could they?
Dr. Strange started again: "So, er- Rogers Wood, I mean, Hood uhm-"
Steve nodded at him while rounding up the valuables. "I have heard of ye, Strange Wizard... I doth not doubt we are in f'r a delightful conversation!"
"Neither do I." A voice came from across the road. The calm, regal consonance of-
"T'Challa!" Strange cried, half relieved, half really annoyed.
The space pirate revealed himself- not bothering to hide his bootstrap jet boosters from the medieval folk. He was dressed like a Golden Age pirate but with a punk metal twist that was probably lost on the people present there.
"Fie! Fie!" The Bishop wailed, "'Tis the devil! 'Tis the- ack!"
Clint Barton gagged the Clergyman for good and stared at the new arrival. "And who may that be! He flies with fire on his feet, like Hermes himself!"
"And yet his name is T'Challa." Rogers Hood mused, signaling his men to lower their arms. "I know of only one T'Challa- and he is the King of Wakanda. Art thou he?"
Star Lord T'Challa's eyes glimmered with mirth. "Oh well, I'm not him. I just share a name with him, Captain Hood. I'm from another universe, and I am here to collect Dr. Strange."
"Thou art free to take him, if he doth not wish for our protection against you." Rogers smiled.
"How about... we sit down for a drink with them?" Strange sighed. "I don't want your protection, but I do want to get back at this asshole."
"Oh Bast, what slander!" T'Challa gasped mockingly. "Weren't you trying to leave this place as fast as you could?"
"I'm not leaving now that I've found the best part?" Strange shrugged.
T'Challa hopped down merrily to the ground. "Well, one outlaw to another, I would love the company!"
"Outlaw!?" Roger Hood perked up.
"Outlaw." Strange groaned.
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velnica · 2 months
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FFXIV Romance Novel Challenge (Cora/Seiryu)
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VillainValntine over on Twitter organised an #XIVRomanceCoverChallenge to create a fake front and back cover parodying those romance novels that we all know and love. This is my first entry featuring Cora and Seiryu!
The fake blurb reads as follows: (also in the alt text)
It started with a contract to assassinate the second most powerful man in Kugane… But the meticulous plan to kill the Daimyo’s right-hand man soon unravelled as the otherworldly forces of the Four Lords were summoned to protect the castle and strike down the assailants. In the ensuing chaos, Cora, a mercenary on employ of the Black Market dealer Hancock, was spirited away to the realm of the Gods where he was to be judged for his transgression against the divine order of the Emperor. Soon he found himself under the sharp piercing gaze of Seiryu, the powerful snake auspice who guarded the Eastern skies. To his surprise Cora found no swift retribution from the irascible guardian. Instead he became an instrument of Seiryu’s will by day… and lay constricted amongst his serpentine limbs by night; to pleasure the Fourth Lord as he saw fit, to take and be taken in whichever form his captor wished. It should have terrified him, sent him scurrying to escape at the earliest opportunity. Yet the feel of snake skin sliding against his body, smooth and sensual, electrified his senses, and the beautiful visage of an ethereal Elezen haunted his every waking hour. Can Cora tip the scales back in his favour and free himself, or will he let Seiryu slither deep into his heart of hearts?
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pudgecuddles · 11 months
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BTS Skyrim WG AU:
🐉 Jungkook: Dragonborn, main character. Loves mead and cheese. Eventually meets Sam Guevenne, the mortal visage of Sanguine the Daedric Prince of Hedonism. Becomes his devotee. Gets big but not big enough to wear him out. Honors Sanguine by fattening up his friends and lovers. Polyamorous.
💜 Taehyung: Jungkook’s Housecarl, takes the place of Lydia. He gets fattened up to the point of affecting his mobility. He loves whatever Jungkook loves, including his weight. Found in Whiterun, lives in Breezehome. Later in Lakeview Manor. Has to loose some weight to be moved by carriage. Gains it all back. Sexual with JK, Romantic with Jimin.
Jimin: A mercenary that Jungkook beats in a drinking contest and travels with for a while. Found in Whiterun’s Bannered Mare. Lives in breezehome. Later in Lakeview Manor. Takes care of Taehyung once he’s too big to fight. Asexual. Romantic with Taehyung.
💜 Namjoon: A sellsword werewolf Jungkook encounters in Windhelm. Travels with JK cause his wolf spirit has got a crush on him. Has no intention of curing himself of Hircine’s gift. Gets big but not enough to impair him. Romantic and sexual with JK.
💜 Yoongi: Head of the Thieves Guild in Riften. Runaway Vampire Prince. Gets fat off of Dragonborn blood. Very plump, but mobile. For now. Jungkook visits him in The Ragged Flagon once a week to feed him, since he’s now addicted to Dragonborn blood. Friends with Benefits with JK.
Jin: Jungkook’s Lakeview Manor steward. Takes care of everyone whether they live there or just visit. Gets chubby but doesn’t like it very much. JK likes to tease him for it. Honestly the only reason why things run as smoothly as they do. Platonic with JK.
💜 Hoseok: Head Apprentice of Restoration magic at Winterhold under Colette Marence. Meets Jungkook while out on request and they have a short fling. Visits him frequently when on fetch quests for Colette. Uses his healing magic to keep the especially heavy ones healthy. Romantic with JK. Too focused on his training to be very sexual with him or gain weight.
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teleostuber · 2 years
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!!! i loved your take on eyeless jacks backstory @__@ do you have any other lore headcanons 4 creepypasta characters?
Thank u a lot :] HERE is my Jane the killer lore
Jane is an independent killer for hire who had a traumatic run in with a Jeff the killer copycat mercenary during one of her jobs
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Even tho she ends up killing the copycat, she’s badly scarred and his visage haunts her years afterwards so she hunts the real Jeff down to ease her obsession BUT
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He’s not what she expected! so she just gives him some break-in and gutting tips then fucks off
Because as much as this funny kid reminds her of herself he also reminds her of someone else a lot more
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detectivelokis · 11 months
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From Nightmares to Sweet Dreams
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Words: 1.6 k Warnings: Nightmares/lucid dreaming and mentions of childhood trauma A/N: Gift 1/2 for @nightwingshero for the Resident Evil Gift Exchange hosted by @sstewyhosseini
“Look at you. So pathetic. So weak.”
“Not - not pathetic,” Ainsley whimpers as she thrashes in bed; limbs in a cold sweat and sticking to the sheets.
It’s just a dream.
She’s well-aware that she’s not awake right now. She’s been having enough lucid dreams since the Raccoon City incident to tell the difference by now. Still, it doesn’t make it any less terrifying.
“No?,” the blurred visage of Oswell Spencer asks as if he’s toying with her. “Look at your brother and sister and then take a look at yourself.”
“Stop it!”
Ainsley can feel herself screaming her throat raw as her father’s craggy face inches closer and closer. “Leave me alone!”
“Ainsley? Ains?”
A soft and warm voice breaks through the fog of her dream and directs her attention away from her father and towards it. She reaches out, begging for them to pull her back to reality.
“AINSLEY!”
Blue eyes flutter open and are immediately met with concerned brown ones. “Another nightmare?,” Carlos asks, bringing a hand to her shoulder as he starts to rub soothing circles into her clammy skin with his thumb.
“Yes. The same one as always.”
It’s been like this ever since she chose to leave Umbrella behind for good. Not that anyone she met would ever let her forget she worked for them in the first place. Her own peers would scoff at her when she would come in for conferences or try and get funding for one of her passion projects. As if she ever stood a chance. As if she wasn’t born to try and follow in her father’s footsteps; fighting like a rabid dog with Albert and Alex for a scrap of recognition.
But then Carlos came into the picture. Carlos who was a mercenary for Umbrella. Carlos, who almost couldn’t stomach being around her in the beginning due to the fact that she had a hand in creating the two tyrants that terrorized Raccoon City that night. But, like her, he was missing a part of himself, one that died as they escaped the nukes that sent the city asunder.
Carlos lets out a tired sigh as he slides down next to her, taking her into his arms. She feels bad for having woken him up all because of the same series of nightmares she has at least once a week. But that doesn’t stop her from resting her head on his chest, the sound of his heartbeat bringing her some much needed solace.
“I know you think this is corny, Ainsley, but you're so brave; braver than some of the men I worked with in the U.B.C.S.. And most of them were military trained.” He strokes back strands of her blonde hair, placing a lingering kiss to her damp skin. “Your father was a lunatic and a tyrant and clearly favored your siblings, but seeing how they both turned out, I would say that’s a good thing.”
“A daddy’s girl I am not,” she replies, relaxing into his touch. 
Her feelings towards her siblings are complicated, especially when it comes to her brother. When she had decided to work for Umbrella she was an ambitious young woman who had just wanted her father to see she was just as talented and equally as smart as Albert and Alex; two teenage prodigies. But she could never gain his favor no matter how hard she worked. Despite all that, she had been horrified to learn of Albert’s demise up in the Arklay mountains and even more hurt when he revealed himself to be alive and well, his body pumped full of the Prototype Virus. She had grieved for him and in the end she looked like a fool.
“Don’t worry, babe. I don’t mind a girl with daddy issues,” Carlos teases and she swears she can feel him smile against her skin.”
Ainsley lets out a faux shocked gasp, playfully swatting him in the chest. Before she had met Carlos she would have truly been offended by such a joke, but she knows that there is no malice behind his words; only love and an attempt to make her feel safe and calm.
“You and your jokes…”
Her blue eyes glare up at him teasingly, earning her a soft chuckle in return. “Yeah, yeah. You hate my jokes. I get it.” He leans his forehead against her own, his warm brown eyes staring into hers so lovingly it could almost make her melt into a puddle right there on the bed. “But you find me too irresistible to mind.”
Truer words have never been spoken. She hadn’t been expecting to find love with a man who worked as a mercenary of all things, her usual picks being those who worked in more scientific fields, but the red string of fate tied them together like no other. Besides, there is more than meets the eye with Carlos. The man has far more emotional intelligence than anyone else she has met.
“I mean,” her hand lightly caresses his cheek before trailing her fingers down to his neck, “I would have to be a fool to let you go.” Her eyes linger on his torso, his body toned and sculpted in all the right places. “Absolutely crazy.”
Peace flows through her as Carlos smiles at her words. “You know I love you, Ains. All I want is to see you happy.”
Ainsley nods, a soft smile gracing her features. Carlos understands the guilt she feels unlike no other. Their reasons may be different, but it connects them, bonds them, in a way that is truly unique to them.
“I know. I want to see you happy too.”
“How about I go make you some tea, yeah? How does that sound?,” Carlos asks, gently lifting her face to look him in the eye.
“That sounds perfect.”
Ainsley lets him lead her out into their living room, bare feet padding against the cool wood floor. Once they reach the sofa he helps her sit, propping pillows up behind her to keep her comfortable. How did she get so lucky?
“It was just one nightmare, Carlos. You don’t have to baby me,” she teases as he drapes a blanket over her. “I might get used to this and expect it every time.”
“And you know I would do it. You deserve to be spoiled, Ainsley. Especially after everything that you’ve been through.”
Carlos kisses her forehead softly before he heads into the kitchen, opening the cabinets to rifle through her meticulously curated tea collection. His hand lands on a purple tin, fingers tapping on it before pulling it out to show her.
“Chamomile?”
“That will work,” she replies softly. “It’s my favorite brand too.”
“I know.”
Carlos shoots her a cheeky grin before turning back to the task at hand. As she hears the electric kettle come to life, she lets her eyes slowly close. This man knows so much about her. Everything from her favorite type of tea to years-long trauma resides in his mind and he handles it with the utmost care.
This is true love.
After a few moments, Ainsley feels a dip in the sofa as the aroma of freshly brewed chamomile tea fills her senses. “You didn’t fall asleep already did you?,” Carlos teases, resting a hand on her knee.
“No,” she whines, her voice groggy with sleep. Just a few minutes of cuddling and talking out her feelings is almost always a balm for a night full of bad memories.
“Could have fooled me.” Carlos holds out her favorite mug, steam overflowing from the top. “Careful. It’s hot.”
Ainsley smiles in gratitude as she cups the mug delicately in her hands. As she goes to blow on the steam another idea pops into her mind.
“Thank you,” she says quietly. Leaning forward, she brings a hand up to Carlos’s cheek, urging him closer. She lingers for a moment before kissing him softly. 
It’s a gentle kiss, small pecks shared between the two as he runs her fingers through her hair. It may not be the intense make out session where their tongues are in each other’s mouths and they're grinding against each other, but it feels incredibly intimate.
As she pulls away, Ainsley rests her forehead against his. “I know it’s late, darling. But I was thinking,” she pauses, a small smirk toying at her lips. “I was thinking that perhaps we could share a bath before going back to bed. We need should be properly relaxed.
Carlos beams so wide she swears she can every single one of his pearly white teeth. “Damn, Ains. Look at you being a bad girl.” His eyes shift towards the clock on their oven before he turns back to face her. “At a quarter to three in the morning too.”
Ainsley simply shrugs in response before leaning back into the plush couch. “You know I can be a bit naughty now and then. Can’t be proper all the time.”
“No you can’t.” Carlos pats her knee playfully as he moves to stand up. “Because I am not about to pass up this opportunity, no matter how late it may be, I’ll go run your bath for you, honey.”
He places a chaste kiss to her lips before practically dashing off to the bathroom. “Thank you, darling!,” she calls after him, a quiet chuckle falling from her lips.
As Ainsley watches him go, her blue eyes following every inch of his body, she realizes things might not be that bad in the end. Not bad at all.
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creeping-kommando · 4 months
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Rebuild’in Wot Woz Skrapped.
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Boss Kommanda Grimgrod
Burgeoning Warboss of the Segmentum Solar:
“Ain’t nothing left but to start over. Lotta you runts fink we’re done, that without Da Kaptin, we’re good as ded. Well, I’m ’ere to tell you sorry gits that you’re wrong. Sure we mighta lost our Dakka, our Kroozerz, and ‘ell, we may ‘ave even lost the battle. But, we’re ORKZ Zog it! You good for nothing grots must’ve forgotten, that we ain’t ever beaten! We’re gonna come back bigger, better, and smarter than before, and show those bugs that they ain’t won yet!”
|Rules|
Height: 10’3”/ Age: 20-25 Years/
Grimgrod had always been seen as a joke to his superiors, and even to some of his inferiors. Many Orks would’ve heard stories of the infamously bad luck that tailed the Nob like a loyal Squig, and found it easy to bully him into jobs no one else wanted to do. So during the brutal tyranid attack that wiped out the Circuit Jawz, Grimgrod had survived by being made a lousy messenger. To tell the tale of good ole Kaptin Zagbad Grimgul.
It was only after he first regaled the death of his mighty Kaptin that Grimgrod finally decided he had enough. Something in the young Nob finally snapped, and from then after his misfit mob and him flew through the stars, tackling former Circuit Jawz, absorbing them into the fold, and brutally assaulting lost territories. This new tribe was dubbed the Doom’eadz, with Grimgrod as their Warboss. Only time will tell what plans he has for the former allies and enemies of Zagbad.
Occupation: Mercenary, Tactical Consultant, Part-Time Freebootah
Skills: ‘Diplomacy’, Close Quarters Combat, Amateur Mek Know How, Tracking, and Sneaking.
Goals: To pick up where Zagbad left off, but instead of being a measly pirate, Grimgrod wants true domination. He wants to prove every git who doubted him wrong, and crush the Hivefleet who did in his Kaptin first as a demonstration of his superiority. Not to mention a need to show that Blood Axe thinking is right.
Allies:
The Heg Ravens
Da Gear-Klaws (Begrudgingly)
Da Mad-Kapz
Appearance:
Standing at 10 feet and 3 inches tall, Grimgrod is much smaller than his former Kaptin, but still a hulking behemoth. Lightly armored, the heaviest implements the Ork carries are his taloned cybernetic legs and arm, while the rest of his attire is military wear based upon imperial foes. His helm holds a skull like visage, a visor hiding everything but the monster’s gleaming red eyes. Across his form, is a color of blue and black, a camouflage pattern with a bit more subtly to it than the average Ork would care to wear. Around his neck is a flag turned scarf taken as a final farewell from his Kaptin, which Grimgrod now uses as a sign of his era and the passing of the torch.
His shoulders meanwhile are armored by a typical checker patterned plate and a looted astartes pauldron. It’s been outfitted with spikes to present a more fashionable appearance, one befitting greenskin sensibilities.
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Equipment
Snik & Snakk: Two overly long knives that Grimgrod keeps on his person at all times. They’re great for slitting throats, picking locks, and generally giving anything a good stab.
Da Hush Hush Stabba: Grimgrod is a Blood Axe, and Axe Boyz never play fair. Within his bionic arm is a secret blade he can extend from underneath his palm, and then cleanly retract. Some gits need that extra nudge to understand that they’re deceased.
Da Final Say: A large revolver that Grimgrod uses when he realizes the time for words and headbutts are over. Snagged off a Beast Snagga who gave him lip, Grimgrod’s put the weapon to far greater use than its previous owner.
Da Kultural Exchange Bouquet: Grimgrod has an assortment of throwable weapons and explosives in his arsenal, and when in a real pinch, will decide to use all of them. Flash Bangs, Stikkbombs, 'Sploding Squigs, and Tankbusta Bombs are all deployed in a wired ‘Bouquet’, usually as a parting gift courtesy of the Doom’eadz.
Studguf’s Kustom Nanites: After Zagbad was deemed dead, Grimgrod attempted to replicate the past Ork Kaptain’s strange ability to both harden his skin and weapons to a steel like quality, a technique the Kaptin failed to teach him. After months of tensing his muscles and concentrating really hard, Grimgrod abducted and forced a Mek to instead make him an artificial copy. When faced with a knife to the throat, Studguf obliged, and Grimgrod was gifted with a similar ability to Zagbad. It’s still a sore spot however.
Credit Notes
The first image was drawn by @/rowscara
The second image was drawn by @/ChumiiCham
The third image was drawn by @/hydroxianchaos
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c3e39
"We didn't fucking cause this. We're his legacy." That entire speech from Ashton had big Caduceus vibes.
The necklace that Fearne found was one that Laudna's father gave to her mother on one of their anniversaries. He saved up for it, and got it with three stones to represent the three of them.
Laudna's name was Matilda Bradbury. She "kind of forgot who [she] was" after a while of running from town to town, and used to sing to herself.
oh god I had forgotten about Pate
Laudna's eldritch blast looks like the flame in her chest we saw in the dream realm. When she casts it, she feels what she's always felt — the magic coming from with in her, in her blood and bones, from the weave of arcana within herself. And she proceeds to bonk Ashton in the head with one of them.
"I was born with magic... that's why they [her parents] were so eager to push me out the door, to the castle."
Holy shit, that's one hell of a testament to Matt's character voices being distinct. The cast remembered Ollie's voice after months. The Green Seekers were sent by Shishadri to escort the Bells Hells to Eshteross' estate.
Chetney opens the letter from Eshteross to Shishadri against Orym's direct objection without hearing Orym out at all. I'm sure this will have no consequences in the future
The letter speaks on a couple of his last jobs as a mercenary, recalling the work he's done for her and the good will they have. At the very bottom, it states information about what the Hells are doing, what they've discovered, elements of the Grim Verity and the dangers of the solstice, and essentially says to stay out of their way.
Laudna casts mending on the wax seal Chetney broke. Marisha Ray has committed mail fraud on graph paper in two campaigns in a row
Mistress Shishadri called in someone to cast speak with dead on Eshteross. She has pale, pearlescent skin, powder-white. The hair is long and silver-gray, no eyebrows, with almost elven features but no sign of elvish ears. "Human, but more so — mystical, but like a creepy doll in energy and visage." Her voice is a lot like the eisfurra from the All-Minds-Burn. She wears a pendant of a golden, beaked skull — a symbol of the Matron of Ravens.
"This is the Grave Mystic Weva Vudol. She is a very useful talent when it comes to dealing with the unexpected demise of important individuals."
Her eyes roll back when she casts the spell and the face almost looks like a porcelain mask. There's a weird, sickly sweet joy to her voice as she asks the questions, and when she moves Eshteross' body, it's like moving a puppet.
"When did you die?" Not but a day before. "How did you die?" I was killed by the Legend. "And who was this legend responsible for your death?" The Legend of the Peaks, Otohan Thull. "Were they [the Bells Hells] responsible or involved in your demise?" No. "Do you have any final requests?" To be interred next to Mistress Prudaj, in the Lucid Memorial Mausoleum.
Shishadri asks the Hells to hunt down Otohan (after the Green Seekers turn it down), and offers them a contract, which they accept.
Otohan got that title during the Apex War because of her involvement with the Taloned Highlands and the Apex city Sruwargas, home of the Stratos Throne. The mountains where it resides are known as the Coven Peaks. For the people of the Throne, she was a hero, and for those opposing her, she was a nightmare.
The Stratos Throne holds rulership of the Taloned Highlands, including Imogen's hometown. She vaguely remembers having to hide, fields being burned, strongholds and military installments on the pathways along the mountains.
The death of the previous sovereign brought the Apex War to a ceasefire, alongside the mutual economic destruction that was happening.
Jovahn, Imogen's hometown, is a place where many warriors and soldiers passed through; there were many inns, homesteads, and barracks built for them that have since been repurposed. Otohan could have passed through or stayed here.
Shishadri takes all of Eshteross' letters, and will arrange the Silver Sun for pickup by the morning.
Weva's HP, AC, and levels are all much higher than Orym's. She works throughout the city and the Oderan Wilds, but works for Shishadri. Chetney smells no fey, fiend, or undead essence on her, but her skin is sort of sparkly and opalescent, sort of like that aasimar who was with Kotho back in C2.
She's flirting with Laudna.
She can..... see souls? She says Laudna's "a little dark around the edges... ooh, welcome back."
Pate!!
Keyleth had theories that the attack on Zephrah was a test, a way to test the abilities of Zephrah's defenses, but there was never a second attack.
She would sometimes talk to the deRolos about the leylines, and Orym thinks that that could be related to why Otohan wanted her dead.
FCG tries to identify the toxin residue on Eshteross' weapon. With a 26 medicine check, they recall "poisons, liquids, alchemical concoctions... and you feel with certainty that you have never seen something like this." There is no magic to it, but it's nothing FCG has encountered in the natural world.
This is the second or third time Matt has described something unidentifiable to FCG in this way — he makes a point to say how strange it is that FCG has never encountered it before or can't remember what it is, like it isn't the item itself that's strange but rather their inability to recognize it. So is this a situation where FCG's memory was wiped? Like they used to know about it but can't anymore because their "memory banks" are damaged or altered?
FCG also identifies the blade itself. It acts as a magical club when wielded as a cane, but when the command word is spoken, the ball on top of the cane becomes a scythe blade. It acts as a greatsword.
To the skyship!
But first, some shopping.
They got diamonds for revivify, and FCG got a 25gp commemorative coin. This is likely for divination, which has a material component of a 25gp "sacrificial offering."
To Yios!
It's a little less than an 1100 mile journey, and it'll take 7-8 days since they're going across the Hellcatch Valley again.
Day 1: No issues
Day 2: No issues
Day 3: Sandstorm! Chetney, Fearne, Imogen, and Orym all rolled below a 5 to stay on the ship, but everyone's tied in one way or another to the rails or the masts. No one actually fell off, but they lose a day of travel.
Day 4: No issues.
Ruidus is flaring. The date would be 30 Sydenstar 843,
Imogen is dreaming of her and Laudna baking in a cabin. "The candlelight goes from orange to a deep, deep red. The door is open, and outside the hut, you see a red cloud swirling. The storm is around you, you can hear the impact of it, the hut creaking and breaking apart. You can just barely see a shape walking into the storm, away from the hut, away from you — the darkened clothed shape of what looks like Laudna, walking away from you. Laudna? No response, just keeps walking. You will yourself to move faster, and your feet leave the ground as you glide until you are right at the back of the figure. You touch it, and it spins around, and instead, it is a darkened ruffled cloak. What you thought was Laudna's hair is tattered shreds of a funeral shroud. You see this scraggly hair in a lavender-like color, and that memory that unlocked, you recognize your mother. 'You need to run.'"
"While that's happening, Chetney. Roll a Wisdom saving throw. 6. You've concentrated on this in the past, the curse that you hold. It is tethered to the history of Catha, and the transformations have always been pulled by that massive white-silver glow in the sky. Ruidus didn't seem to have much of an impact. But as you've been more conscious of these flares, there's been this itch in your belly. Simple. But this time the itch gets stronger. And stronger. Until you can't help but try and scratch for it. You scratch and scratch, and you pull, and you tear. Fearne and Orym, you see Chetney begin to double over and clutch his stomach. Chet? Can you talk to me? You have to pull, you have to be free, you have to scratch, it has to be free. From behind, he tears the flesh away from his torso, and as you watch the skin and hair of the gnomish form flop away, the wolven body emerges with an aggressive howl, the eyes emanating a red glow. Who do you go after first? Orym."
Fearne casts daylight on Chetney, which gives him another saving throw against Ruidus' influence. He rolls 16. It has some kind of effect, but it doesn't knock Chetney out of it. (Meaning that 16 is still a fail against the influence.)
"As far as your consciousness goes, you just have to scratch the itch. This is primal impulse and instinct. You've been here a few times, but this is an odd timing."
Liam playing a battle master is so good. the battle master fighter is easily the most complex full-melee class (and is definitely more complex than many casters), and it's so nice to see the class played with such... poise? ease? skill.
Rolling another 16 save gets Chetney out of the influence and the itch goes away, but he's under half health, so he has to make another save against bloodlust, which he fails. Fearne's daylight spell knocks him out of that.
The flare fades away, and the ruddy moon is left dull in the sky.
But before that, back in Imogen land—
"As you see into the face of your mother, she steps back, and the wind whips her away like she was just strips of cloth. You glance up, and you can see through the cloud, the bright, flaring moon of Ruidus. What do you want? No response. Otohan? Are you here? Nobody seems to be present. Just the sound of strong, dangerous wind. [I reach out and lightning strike the hut.] As you reach out your arm, all the designs on your body, the extended tendrils of energy completely fill your arm and the bolt arcs across the outside of the hut. It burns and darkens, and as it burns up, the wind carries it away like the cloak but a moment before. [I fly up into the air.] The dust around you subsides slightly. You can see the darkness, the stars, beginning to come closer. You concentrate on the moon, and a few moments later, the bright light of the flare dulls, and in that moment, your ascension slows, then stops, and you begin to fall. Faster and faster. Faster and faster, you plummet. You spin and see the ground come towards you — and you wake up."
Sending to Liliana Temult: "Are you there?" "...Imogen?"
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