#Soldier is still looking for Magic anon

[sargetblu]

Oh. He got eagle wings and is now going feral

Of course he is! That is not proper conduct!

The commie bastard doesn't know how to act on the battlefield!

[pursuitseternal]

“The Fourth Day” of Bats, Blood, and Mirror Smut in “Antics of the Newly Ascended”

Ascended Astarion x Reader |E| 2.3K of Batstarion and Self-indulgent mirror sex

Summary: He’s late to arrive back, and then you hear… scratching at your window. Bat nibbles and head scritches quickly shift into other sensual indulgences. Ones that allow him to experience other benefits to his ascension… and to your own pleasure.

CW: “Right Hand” puns, Batstarion bites, cunilingus, mirror sex, Extra Emphatic performance from the Ascendant cause he likes the way he looks, “oh yes, I see what all the fuss is about”

Previous Ch | Ao3 Link | Masterlist

A gift for @icybluepenguin

🪞🦇🪞🦇🪞🦇🪞🦇🪞🦇🪞🦇🪞🦇🪞🦇🪞

You lay in your bed, tossing and turning. Waiting for Astarion to return. The camp needed supplies—potions and scrolls and armor. And it was Astarion’s turn to go fetch, even as he had grumbled how beneath him it was as the Ascendant.

Of course, Wyll had only laughed all the harder, shoving the purse of coin in his pale hands and slamming the door on his ass. The goods had been sent ahead by a maid from the Elfsong’s tavern, the Ascendant adding in the message delivered along with the bundle that he would return anon, once he deemed his presence sufficiently missed.

That was hours ago… Now even sleep sounded good. Long, lonely sleep. With him somewhere out there in the dark of night.

Your stomach swirls, knowing he is powerful, knowing he is experienced in how to care for himself, but… you have so many enemies now. So many assassins and monsters and soldiers. The list of beings that wanted you dead seems to grow ever bigger.

He shouldn’t have gone alone.

Stupid, arrogant, exalted idiot.

Every sound in the tavern, every creak on every floor reaches your ears. And it’s not your heightened vampiric senses.

You’re worried. For as much as he preens and postures and bites and drinks, you can see it plainly with your eyes and your heart. You see what others can’t since his Ascension.

He’s still just the same, poor at planning, smooth brained rogue. Good with his hands, silken with his words, bad at anything to do with plots or logic or calculations or…

A soft scritch scratch at the window made you sit up from your good- humored, condescending musings.

Something… big… rests against the panes of glass. You look closer. Something largish and fluffy and… white.

“My dear consort, let me in…” he speaks in that way that caresses your mind with his own.

“You have got to be kidding, Astarion. Are you stuck again…”

“No, not stuck. I am positively famished. I need to rest, to feed, before I can use my magic to return to the handsome body you know and crave and worship….”

“Pfft,” you roll your eyes. “So you need help, is that it… mighty Vampire Ascendant?”

“You wound me, my darling…. My treasure…” he flaps against the glass again. His little claws scratch so hard as he grows clearly more and more agitated. “My right hand…” he purrs so silkenly.

You cross from the bed, your body naked as you stroll so slowly towards his blurred shadow on the other side of that pane. “It’s funny, my love, that night you offered me this…” you pause to flourish your hand the same way he had, “gift of immortality… I didn’t realize by your Right Hand, you meant things so literally.”

That made him flutter harder and bang his little bat feet against the window. “I swear when I do get in there… when I do finally feed and shift back… I’ll make that right hand do so much more for me than opening this fucking window….”

You laugh…. So adorable. So dramatic and ridiculous. So… him. “You should see yourself, my love. I suppose II would miss you if I should leave you so… indisposed.”

You cackle, reaching for that handle. The instant a gap was big enough, he flapped his way inside. Circling on his beautiful, membranous wings, you feel the wind brush your hair away before he lands on the back of your shoulder. His itty, bitty fingers hook onto the crest of your back, the only warning you get before you feel his small razor fangs bite into your neck.

So much smaller than normal, you gasp in surprise more at the sensation of warm fur on your skin. His little claws hook tightly, and his quiet breath snuffles beneath your ear as he drinks. You reach your hand around, his little ears twitching as you blindly brush them, scratching one finger in that small space at the top of his head. His mouth still contentedly suckles on your blood.

Tingles of magic wash down your back, and suddenly your hand raises with the top of his head, that silken mess of curls wrapped around your finger. Lips replace bat teeth, the wide span of his warm tongue swirls lazily over the teeny marks he’s left.

“Now… about that defiant, rebellious right hand of yours,” he rasps against the sensitive spot behind your ear.

“Oh…. This little thing?” you taunt, wickedly, childishly, gripping that bulge between his legs from behind you. The “oof” that comes from his smirking mouth is music to your ears. You spin smoothly, pivoting your grip on his cock, and you give it just a few hard strokes to make it harden under your touch.

It doesn’t take much. It never has. He bucks against your palm. One of his elegant, long-fingered hands clutches underneath your chin, dragging your lips for him to consume. You taste the blood on his tongue, feel his hunger mixed with yearning. The way his tongue dances with yours hides nothing of the want you were so quick to incite in him.

You lose your breath as he shoves you against the wall. Moonlight floods from behind him, his sharpened face barely lit in the shadow. But those curls, ravaged by the winds of flying, mussed from his shifting, those silver-white curls sit like a halo in the pale light. Left hand closing around your right, he presses it against the wall, a silent command to hold still. Very still.

A single kiss on your lips, a rakish arch to his brow, and he drops to his knees. His hands force your leg over his shoulder so quickly, you have to grip that wall behind you, caught only by the way he shoves his shoulder under your thigh. His face already presses hard into your mound, fingers already prying your folds wide for his tongue to lap. Careful, you use your left hand to comb through his curls, riding the circling of his head as he licks through your seam.

The same sort of little noises come from between your thighs, little low hums of feeding, muffled grunts amidst the wet suck of his tongue on your clit. Your hips buck, catching on his nose, his hands keeping that new angle for him to push deeper into that wet.

You pound your right hand into the wall, a closed fist, and your legs shake. He drives you closer and closer, pools of heat and lightning racing to your belly and down your nerves. He laughs into your cunt, fingers slipping into your channel from somewhere below your ass. You can’t see, can only feel that rhythmic lap and suck of his perfect tongue and thick smirking lips. But those fingers crook hard to catch your spot, that itch he knows how to scratch and make you shatter.

You pant, riding the brush of his nose on your clit and the suck of his tongue as he devours you even in climax.

“Fuck me…” you groan, head smacking against the wall as you raise your hips even higher. His hands hold you firm, even as your legs twitch and threaten to go boneless in your orgasm.

“Oh yes, darling, I am about to do just that,” he stands to rasp into your ear. “You did say… if only I could see myself… a delightful suggestion, my pet. Come now,” he purrs, “but you will only use those defiant hands of yours as I see fit. And…”

He flips you around, drags you across the room to the corner, until you’re staring at your own reflection. The simple wooden-framed mirror shows every pale line of your bodies as one. You can barely tell where your soft curves melt into the edges of every hardened rise of him behind you in the moonlight. “…you’re going to watch ever little way I fuck you…”

“You mean you’re going to watch every little way you fuck…”

His hand reaches from behind you, clawing around your mouth and twisting to bring your ear against his smirking lips. His crimson eyes lock into yours in that reflection, a matching color. “Well, it was your suggestion, my love, since we both have been given such a gift. And I haven’t yet seen how ruinous I am in this process…”

“Tch,” you suck your teeth, a humored and condescending shake of your head. “Fine… it is a sight to behold. And after all, these days are about you discovering yourself, indulging in your powers.”

“And I’m so grateful it’s you who enables my indulgences, my darling,” his silken voice croons. His tongue visibly sticks out to run that warm, wet pad up the curve of your ear.

His gaze watches yours flutter, your body shivering involuntarily as you want more. “Bend,” he growls into those little circles and folds of your ear. His grip fastens on your wrist, making you reach for the wall beside you, turning you sideways to that shimmering mirror glass. You look through the messy curtain of your hair, watching in that reflection as his hand smooths down the vertebrae of your spine, his other grips and pumps his cock. That hard, veined length dripping onto the floor, twitching relentlessly as he catches your eye with a wicked grin.

“You keep those insolent hands where I can see them, darling, and you… will… watch me.” His voice drops into a deep-throated growl, his head cocked back, hips bucking into his fist. Even as he clutches the cheek of your ass, his sharp nails finding purchase, drawing blood to the surface as he marks you.

His. Forever.

Fingers leave your skin, pulling back that long, tousled mess of your hair so you can obey him.

So you can watch.

Watch as he lines himself up with your entrance, watch as he drags that blunted tip, forcefully and slowly back and forth through your slick. Watch as his hand beats his shaft against your folds, smearing your arousal up and down his velvety smooth skin as he does so.

It’s… burning in your belly, the way he’s licking his lips, stare alternating between watching his body in the mirror and your eyes drinking in his every sensual stroke.

You can’t look away, watching him shut his eyes, head thrown back in pleasure, arching as he sheathes himself until you feel that brush of his balls against you. You want to shudder and hang your head, instantly filled and throbbing and so… very… full.

“Don’t you disobey me, pet,” he hisses. “Best keep watching, or else…” Eyes still shut, he groans in deep delight as he pulls out once more only to grip your hips and shove inside again.

Deeper. Harder. More punishing. Fangs bared, he smirks down to watch his perfect shaft entering you, a slow beating rhythm to the snaps of his hips. Every little ripple of muscles in his body, you get drunk on the sight of him. Even that slight gleaming slick on his cock that you see, that base of his shaft as it glistens before it disappears to ram you full again. It makes your mouth water.

He picks up the pace now, your body so warm and wet from how he pleasured you. He smiles at himself, tilting his head back towards the mirror. You can feel it, the extra undulations of his body, a little extra shove, a little harder buck of his hips to make your ass slap hard on his body.

A performance of pleasure just for him.

Deep, subtle pants leave his gaping mouth with each thrust, his eyes watching the way his own flawless, ruinous body clenches as he fucks. Every tweak of his abs, every clench of his ass, you can see his eyes dart in the mirror to savor the sight.

You laugh, well, barely laugh. As breathless as you are, riding every pummel into your cunt, you manage to speak. “Careful, or I’ll have to get a blindfold if you can’t stop watching yourself…”

“Oh darling, I finally see what all the fuss is about,” he pants between his words. And you hear it, that edge to his voice, reckless and uncontrolled. His words catch in his throat just as stilted as his thrusts become.

Hard and random and rough.

Your cervix grows numb, your channel walls so swollen, so hot. Pounded over and over again until he finally groans and folds over you. Arms yank you back against him by your hips, slamming your body against his wild bucks. You watch that magnificent reflection as he unravels, how his knees buckle as he comes.

How his seed spills so hard from his cock deep inside you, it’s already dripping to the floor at your feet. The sight of sweating pale skin and undulating muscles bent over for you… you shatter too. And it makes another groan, a whimper come from where he’s laid his head on your back, just below your shoulder blades. Your walls milk him of every last drop, your own arousal joining the mess on the floor beneath your feet.

Breathless, your arms shake, still extended towards the wall. A naughty grin on your mouth as he looks at your lust-hazed eyes and tousled hair. His face is a matching set of post-coital mess and beauty.

You reach that right hand of yours between your legs, slowly, delicately teasing over your own slick clit, drenched in both your cum. Stroking further to brush the soaked base of his cock that is still buried inside you, he nips into the skin of your back, not hard enough to break the skin.

Just enough to make you look again in that mirror.

“Your right hand is forgiven… I’ll allow it…” he purrs one more time.

His crimson gaze still looks hazy and dunk on that sight of you coupled. And you wonder if he will ever let you stand.

[comfortless]

AHH I was the anon from the Bear!Ko ask ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ I adore it so much like I’m kicking my feet and twirling my hair your ideas are CHEFS KISS AND IM GLAD YOU LIKED THE PROMPTT

Definitely not excited that you’re considering more hybrid stuff.. TEEHEE ʕ •́؈•̀ ₎

BUT YEAH JUST THOUGHT TO DROP SOMETHING NEW CUZ WHY NOT! Maybe Ko being deployed on a mission to some wild terrain, having to camp out on the grounds for a while by himself. Reader taking interest in the behemoth and toying with him until he finds out they’re a fae or nymph

Or a game of hide and seek.. in the dark.. with him.. maybe even a wolf!ko

ONCE AGAIN ID LOVE TO SEE YOU WORK UR MAGIC ON THESE IDEAS (｡♥‿♥｡)

hi, 🧸!! working on something with a lycanthrope Kö at the moment, but this is… well it is something! i adore the idea of König with a cute (insatiable) nymph!! definitely give @cookiepie111’s Drink From The Leche of Sirens a read if you haven’t already. <3

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. fae nonsense (reader is a tree nymph), vague smut.

It isn’t that he ever intended to be here, not really. Simple surveillance, Fender had told him. Any knowing soldier would recognize the equipment that did not even need hands to tend to it, the cameras that should be set and monitored, and yet there were none in place here— just König, a loaded gun, and the stillness of the forest that seemed to stretch ever onward.

There’s been a lapse for the past week, with Kortac’s most adept at retrieving information out seeking just that, off with their radios constantly abuzz and adrenaline running rampant through their veins.

There’s an envy harbored somewhere in the back of his skull, twittering and hissing when he thinks on it too much… shelved for an uncharacteristic mistake to be left here amongst plants and scattered animal sounds, a temporary solace that would be ripped away when something new came through the chain of command; an overabundance of the very things he would care to think less about.

König hasn’t seen another person in days, not out here, tracking a vehicle carrying supposed smuggled weapons. There are no tire tracks, not even air traffic passing above: only gloom, loneliness, and the chill of early spring.

Then the abandoned house, where he takes refuge. It’s dated: the furniture all in various states of disarray, shattered porcelain about the kitchen and vaulted ceilings so high he doesn’t even need to bother with ducking to cross from room to room. It’s old on the exterior, stately, with vines creeping up its walls to reach the warmest height to bloom. Though internally, it is clear the place has not been left to rot for long: no loose boards, no holes in the ceiling or floor, just seemingly preserved somehow, as though time itself had come to still.

He doesn’t mind the daily patrols through the forest, the pensive stalking and creeping to find any hint of what he was after. Even through the night, when sleep forgets to lure him in for warmth and comfort amidst the pollen and silence, the walking never seems to grate on him.

There are lights, often, amongst the trees, faint pulses of glowing white that dissipate the moment his gaze sweeps over them. He’s read the fairytales as a child, even witnessed Conor get so drunk once that he shared his own tales of the ‘wee folk’, but König would feel a fool to believe any of that at face value. Most of his own kind were not interested in him, shying away with laughter or pitying gazes the moment he approached, so why would anything else be drawn to a man who could never quite scrub the blood from his fingernails or keep a conversation from spinning out into silence and uneasy glances?

It’s during one of these nightly walks that he first sees her, a vision bathed beneath the milky glow of the moon, ethereal, yet still nothing short of a proper blessing from the earth. Despite the distance from his path to her own, her body looks soft, bare and gentle. The growing thorns and clusters of ivy do not scrape her, only gently pull aside as she walks, tender and swaying like the petals sprung up from the plants for little fingers ghost over.

He only thinks that, assuredly, he’s lost his mind. The vision fades away when she looks at him, curls her lips into a smile… and then it is all gone. She leaves not a trace, no footprints indented into the soil he knows he had only just watched her tread. The flowers he saw her pull into being have vanished, too. All that remains is a dulled aura of dread, a strange thing that he has not felt in years, if ever at all.

König does not think of the woman until she appears again, during the day amidst the leaves of a sprawling sycamore. She lies against the bark, body resting over a healthy branch where she sleeps in a position so demure it sets his heart ablaze. The breeze caresses her hair, something he wishes to feel beneath his own fingertips; it whistles over her bare skin while the sun bathes her in rays of gold, filtered out through pinprick partings in the leaves, begs, pleads for him to touch. Forbidden fruit, too lofty to touch, too dainty for ash and blood.

He only walks away, carries on with the focus of his mission, reminds himself of every time that he’s sought some semblance of companionship and how those escapades had all simmered down to nothing but taunting echoes for sleepless nights. There was no need for any more ghosts, not even the pretty ones.

With nothing else in sight, he returns to that house where time halts and loses himself to want; swallows dry when he frees himself of his buckle and pulls out his growing erection. A release and an expelling of memory all in one.

He thinks of her, of her graceful walk amidst the darkened woods, of the way she lay, perfectly unscathed and beautiful, unknowing of any thing that plagues him, scatters from his grim expression right down to his very marrow. The imaginings… he would never speak of them, perhaps would only have the information pried from him that he thought of her smile when he spilled himself into his palm, but only if she came to beg for it with a voice he imagines must be tree sticky and sweet like warmed honey. Only if she came for him.

There lies a meadow just past an abrupt opening in the tree line, small and subdued by outstretched branches that curl over the grass and wildflowers still yet to bloom. No chill lingers here, as though summer stretches over the little glade and settles atop it with its warmth, masks even the little pond that does not seem to carry the same frosted panes of ice that the others he had seen do. There is fruit, puny red berries and hefty pears causing their limbs to bend, gently set them down for the earth and all of the animals roaming about to eat.

And he knows he’s stumbled upon her home.

He finds his voice when she peeks at him from behind the trunk, wide-eyed and curious with the softest curl about her lips, playful but tentative.

“Hallo,” he whispers, raising his gloved hand as if to wave, but curling his fingers into his palm instead. He’s horribly uncertain, caught between the alarming thought that he’s dealing with some perturbing nudist or something… else entirely.

“Hello,” she says, almost shy as she unveils herself from behind the tree, takes a step toward him with a tender look in her eyes and a long draw of breath. Sets his nerves at ease with her silent admittance that she, too, at least seemed wary.

König immediately tells her why he’s here, not in full detail, sparing the poor doe the tedium and the confidential bits that would likely only make her head spin, and then… he mentions how he had seen her, how the forest seemed to yield to her whims, her dancing beneath the moon that appeared to shine only for her. He gives her a curious look, undetectable beneath the darkened hood, pleads for her to explain in his own silent sort of way.

“I have seen you too,” she says instead, curling her arms behind her back, pushing out her chest, and… he doesn’t think to ask any further.

She’s the loveliest thing that he has ever seen or felt: places herself right into his lap when she guides him down to the grass. There’s sap on her fingertips when she presses them to his lips, curiously grazing them over his mouth as he speaks to her about the forest, a forest he’s already deemed to be her own, obscure princess that she was. She giggles when he dares to lick over each intruding digit, even gives a shaky, soft sigh when he suckles at one.

The nymph whispers things into his ear that he’s never heard before: things about each sprouting plant, of other things that hide away in the shade beneath branches and how they had all seen him too, about the earth and life and softer secrets about her beloved tree. Home and love without ever daring to speak words so simple. She does not ask about the dreadful things he does not think about, only lies back in the grass when he praises her beauty and the lovely notes of her voice.

He thinks for a moment that he should not touch her, should not have her grace wasted on something like him, but she rises up only enough to kiss him through the hood and he finds himself tugged down to tickling blades of grass and his mind finally does quiet.

She cradles him close as he claims her love for his own, steals sap from her lips and follows her sighs to a comforting oblivion. Her hands find his neck, his shoulders to offer gentle touches, tracing patterns like the intricate twisting of vines against his flesh all while he praises their union, her sweetness.

He doesn’t know how long he’s spent with her, the day seems to to stretch on for an eternity with the sun high above, but when he wakes… he is back inside of the old, quiet house, lying in the bed he knows with a certainty that he’s never even touched. Fender’s voice is calling to him over the radio, clipped and demanding for a report, one that proves nothing at all, a barrage of words filled with wonder and bliss with no intel on the mission.

And König isn’t shocked by the leave he’s given once he does return to base the following day. Three weeks time would be just enough to clear his head, regain his focus, pull money from his account to purchase that lonesome old house in the forest. He couldn’t bare the thought of never seeing such an angel again, never hearing the soft chittering of her voice or being blessed with the feeling of her beneath him, intertwined like the vines she so loved.

[sorceresssundries]

Writing prompt - Gale surprises Tav with a bunch of red roses and a candlelit dinner.

The Rose of Reithwin

Pairing: Gale x gn Tav - SFW

Word Count: 2k

You must have sensed i'm struck in a rut! Here you go, my lovely anon. I got a bit carried away. I hope you enjoy <3

Tav ached all the way down to their bones. The lack of sunlight, breeze, and even the stagnation of time itself was a burden which they could feel cloying in their veins. Tav dreamed of flowers and sunlight, of food that wasn’t dried out and looted from long-rotted barrels or the backpacks of fallen soldiers. Tav ached for comfort in a land which still throbbed with ongoing pain.

After a long needed wash in whatever water they could find amongst the shadows, Tav headed back to camp, hoping to find some solace in Gale’s warm words and strong arms. It had been a couple of nights since they had spent their first, proper night together. Just the memory of it was enough to spark a small flame of comfort, but Tav needed to be in his company for it to fan into a heat warm enough to melt away the icy shards of the shadow curse. 

To Tav’s surprise, Karlach was hovering outside Gale’s tent,  excitement evident in the sparks and flickers glowing from her engine. She couldn’t stay still, practically vibrating with energy. She was dressed... unusually.

“You’re wearing a bow tie?” 

“I know!” Karlach’s ability to light up with even the slightest taste of joy was enough to keep even the darkest shadows at bay. “I found it on a corpse!!” She added with unbound enthusiasm.

“Oh, well... well done?”

“Thanks! Oh, wait a minute.” She rummaged around in her pocket and pulled out a piece of paper covered in elegant writing, along with a single, slightly flattened, rose. “Sorry, it looked better before I sat on it.”

Tav took the paper, perplexed. “This... is a menu.” They read over the intricate, swirling script in total confusion.

“Yeah! Gale asked if I would help him, and well... he said I may have gone a bit too far with everything, but I thought I could help! He, um, said the Simulacrum freaked you out a bit last time.” She mimicked the jaunty pose that Gale’s mirror image had performed a few nights ago, and Tav tried their best not to laugh at the impression. “And he was busy concentrating on other magicky, wizard stuff, so I told him to leave it with me.”

“So... here I am, my liege.” She bowed dramatically. “Mr. Dekarios awaits the pleasure of your incom... incom... incompra...” She suddenly unfurled another, smaller note from her top pocket and scanned over it, mouthing the words soundlessly. “Fuck it, his handwriting is awful. Gale is waiting for you at the Waning Moon.”

The abandoned pub was not far from where they had set up camp, and Karlach pointed to a trail of floating lanterns illuminating a path for Tav to follow. They glowed with gentle magic, and Tav grinned to themselves, amused by the wizard's flair for the dramatic. Gale was always one to create a sense of wonder, and it seemed like whatever he had planned for the evening would be no exception.

When Tav reached the building and pushed open the doors, they could not believe the view. 

In the centre of the room stood Gale, his hands aglow with arcane energy as he conducted a symphony of magic. With a wave of his hand, ribbons of light twisted and twirled, weaving themselves into elaborate decorations. Flowers bloomed from thin air, their petals unfolding in bursts of colour to settle upon various neglect-scarred surfaces.

“You’re here!” Gale said, his voice filled with warmth and excitement. “I’m almost finished.”

Tav watched in awe as Gale orchestrated the magic around them, bringing the abandoned building to life with his spellcraft. Tables appeared, draped in luxurious fabrics and adorned with silver candelabras that flickered with ethereal flames. Chairs formed from wisps of mist solidified under their touch, their cushions embroidered with intricate patterns that seemed to shift and shimmer. The cracked wooden floorboards were mended, and gleamed under the soft glow of floating candles. The grimy, stained walls had brightened, and were now streaked with vines of ivy that bloomed with small, colourful flowers.

In the centre, a table for two stood, set with fine china, crystal goblets, and a centrepiece of roses that flitted between various shades of rich red in the candlelight. The once dingy bar was now a haven in a hellscape.

“You… you did all this? For me?”

Gale made his way over to hold Tav’s hand, and the contact immediately relieved a tight coil within their chest. “I meant what I said. If we had more time… well...” He gestured to the scene around him. “I would do it all better.”

Music spilled from an unknown source, soft and comforting. It had been so long since Tav had heard music, since the air around them had been filled with anything other than death and shadow. The song was familiar, warm...

Gale seemed to pick up on their thoughts. “You may not remember, but... it's a song Alfira played at the party with the Tieflings.” He blushed slightly, the pink in his cheeks glowing in the soft candlelight.  “It was playing just after our conversation, after I told you to go enjoy your evening.”

Tav let a smirk play at their lips, recalling their attempt at propositioning the wizard. The heady mixture of joy and wine had urged them toward Gale, to flirt with the man with the disarming smile, who had very gallantly turned them down. 

“So… you did want me that evening?”

“Oh, I wanted you.” All hint of self-consciousness dropped from his expression, leaving only raw sincerity. “This song was playing when I realised I was falling in love with you.”

Tav’s heart fluttered. The music made the air feel lighter. For a moment, they were not soldiers in a battle-scarred town but two lovers in the bliss-filled infancy of a new relationship. Where possibilities crackled with lively potential. Where each touch and loving word was a promise heavy with pure, unfiltered intention.

“I remember that night,” Tav said softly. “I remember wishing for more moments we could just be us for a little while.”

Gale’s eyes were a mixture of hope and regret. “Maybe we can still have those moments. Maybe we can find a way.”

Tav squeezed his hand. “Maybe you already have.” “I hope so.” He kissed Tav’s poor, battle-worn fingers. “I am torn between wishing you had never had to endure any of this horror, to being extraordinarily grateful to have met you.” He was suddenly aching with sadness. “It is a heartbreaking realisation, to know the person you love is in your life due to a tragedy you wish had never befallen them.” He cupped the face of his love, and stroked his thumb along fresh scars and the fading stain of bruises which lurked just under their skin. “No-one should ever have to learn how brave they can be.”

He leant forward then, and brushed his lips against theirs. Chaste and gentlemanlike, the kind of kiss one would expect from a gallant partner on a first date, and Tav couldn’t help but think of the heavy, moaned kisses which Gale had lain across every inch of their body just a few nights prior. He really was doing everything backwards. 

Tav decided they would play along with the honourable behaviour, for now, and instead turned their attention to the beautiful display of roses. 

“A very traditional choice, Mr.Dekarios.” 

“‘Rose is a term of endearment in Waterdeep. To refer to one’s beloved.” His eyes were soft and shimmered in the light. “I thought they would be fitting.”

Tav picked up one of the roses and admired the velvet of its petals, the rich, wine-like scent, and the sharp bite of thorns.  “I hope you do not think the thorns are due to any slip in my arcane proficiency. I know it’s just illusionary, but.. I wanted to make the whole thing as.. human as possible. The old ways, if you will. Thorns and all.” 

“Well, whatever you’ve done - the food smells incredible.” The savoury scent of roasting meat mingled with the earthy, buttery smell of cooked vegetables and fresh herbs enveloped Tav in much-needed comfort. 

“That is no illusion, my rose.” He pulled out one of the chairs, and motioned for Tav to sit and with a click of his fingers two mage hands appeared with plates of fresh, steaming food. “That is the dedicated endeavour of a man with exceptional culinary skill and limited resources.”

“How on earth did you find all this?!” 

“Well, I may have used some of my charm and resorted to a bit of bribery.”

“You’re rubbish at bribery!

“Yes, okay, that’s true. But Astarion isn’t, and for a small fee, he was able to get me what I needed.” Gale raised his hands at Tav’s indignant expression. “I did not ask too many questions, and he gave no answers—so, for all intents and purposes, this food has been legitimately acquired and therefore should be enjoyed guilt-free.” He smiled his lazy, heart-melting smile and tucked into the meal.

The food was delicious, the wine full and rich, the company unrivalled. 

Tav thought how full of life this little pub in Reithwin must have been all those years ago. How locals would come through the doors after a day's hard graft. How mason’s would grip pint glasses with dusty hands and let the cold beer soothe their calloused fingers.

This place must have been filled with wine-fuelled singing, drinking games and endless, mindless, repetitive stories of the residents of Reithwin. A place for midday companionship, and late night solitude. This little heart of Reithwin town would have beat with stories and laughter of those lost to shadow.

And for a little while, in the long-dead town of Reithwin, life returned. The glow that enveloped Gale and Tav outshone that of even the moon’s blessing. There was light enough here to cast out curses, just for a little while. Just for two lovers in that hopeful, crack of a dawning relationship, where the impossible danced and shone, and took no notice of lurking shadows. 

As they ate and laughed and shared stories of times before tadpoles and curses and nautiloids, Tav took in the unrivalled beauty of the setting Gale had conjured with awe.

“I’ve never seen illusionary magic like this.” Tav ran their finger through one of the flames from a candle, and felt the heat bite their skin.

“That's because this is no ordinary illusion.” He reached over to hold Tav’s hand across the table, stroking them gently with his thumb.

“This is a promise of things to come. This is an illusion that I intend to make into reality, and the magic is all the stronger for it.”

There were no words, conjurations, or illusions powerful enough for Gale to express his gratitude, or his genuine intention. He knew that promises and declarations would not be enough, that these conjured roses were just saplings in the entire sun-filled garden he wanted to grow for Tav. It would take time, it would take nerve and messy, mortal dedication. But he would do it. 

He would plant seeds, feed them with water pulled from the deepest well . He would sweat and toil under the relentless summer sun, remaining vigilant through the bleak winters. With human hands, he would grow flowers, watching patiently as the slow spell of time brought life and beauty from nothing. He would wait, earning each soft-petaled rose, cherishing the joy they would bring, ribbon-tied and wine-scented, to his brave love. He would place them in crystal vases, where light would dance through and spill colour throughout their home.

And, when the inevitable happened, when the petals curled and dipped and eventually fell like feathers. It will have been worth it. All the toil and grief and mortal determination of it all will have been worth it, just to remind his love of the promise made in that hopeful night in Reithwin. 

[its-jaytothemee]

WIP Wednesday

Part of a one shot for an anon request I received that I hope to have completed in the next couple of days <3

Word count: 800

Tags: Halsin x reader, wood elf Tav, druid Tav, loss of magic, will include hurt/comfort and fluff in full fic.

Summary: Tav struggles to regain their strength after the encounter with Orin in the Bhaal temple.

Baldur’s Gate goes against everything you stand for. Nature, harmony, peace, community. But not even the city itself with its walls of stone and locked doors to prevent helpless refugees from entering could compare to the horror of the Bhaal temple lying in wait beneath it.

At least on the surface you could still breathe the fresh air, listen to the singing birds flying high above the stone walls, hear the breaking of the waves in the harbor. Nature is out of balance in the city yes, but down here? Here in this wretched temple the scale has broken completely. Only death and suffering and a necrotic miasma that seeped its way into every fiber of your being can be found in the God of Murder’s domain.

The battle with Orin the Red had been vicious. You and your companions fought with ferocity and courage to end her reign of blood and carnage in Bhaal’s name. Though as the fight persisted, you noticed a corruption to your magic. The beautiful verdant vines that you would usually call forth to ensnare your enemies had taken on a sickly brown color. When you try to call on the magic granted to you by Silvanus to heal your allies’ wounds, the bright magic flickers at your fingertips before puffing out of existence.

No matter, we’re leaving this accursed temple. I just need some fresh air. The stench of death is simply clouding my mind.

“You okay, soldier?” Karlach kneels on the bloodied floor, clutching the large gash on her arm.

“I…I think so. This rotten temple must be affecting my connection to the Weave.” You respond as the light pricking pain behind your eyes builds to a loud pounding. Given your magic seems to be touchy here in the temple, you opt to give your friend a potion from your bag.

“This should make it manageable until we can get out of this place.” You go to take a step towards the exit, but your head swims and your vision darkens. Luckily, a deep breath steadies your legs and pushes the fatigue from your mind so you can continue your way to the surface.

You never thought you would be so happy to see the streets of Baldur’s Gate. A new appreciation swells within you after your time in the temple. Sure, there’s hardly any trees and the only animals you see running about are the stray cats and dogs or an occasional rat, but at least now you know there’s far worse things.

“Hells…” You press your hand to your temple as the sun pierces your eyes, agitating the already pounding ache you feel behind them.

“Tav?” Wyll looks at you with deep concern. “You don’t look so good, friend.”

His hand extends to touch your forehead, which you now realize is coated in a thin layer of sweat.

“I…I’m fine. I just need to get back and rest is all.” You try to inhale the surface air, desperate to clear the deathly fog still lurking from the Bhaal temple.

Your companions keep a wary eye on you as you all continue your trek through the Lower City. Normally, you’d stop at some of your preferred vendors to sell some of the bits and baubles you’ve picked up on your latest quest. Today though, everyone insists on getting you back to the Elfsong so Halsin can tend to whatever sickness obviously plagues you.

Halsin…

At least the thought of him makes you smile and helps push the pain away for a moment. Your sweet, considerate, strong, bear of an elf. All of a sudden, you feel dizzy again, but not from the incessant ringing in your ears or pounding against your skull.

The familiar sounds and smells of the Elfsong Tavern pull you away from your daydreams. Normally, the smells of wine and stew and bread would make your mouth water, but right now they cause an uneasy churning in your stomach. You gag to keep what little food you’ve eaten today in your body. With some significant help from Karlach, you make your way up the stairs.

Surely they’ve added at least twenty more since we last left?

By the time you’re standing outside the door to your large, rented room, the light layer of sweat coating your skin has drenched your underclothes. You gasp for breath, the taste of death still prevalent on your tongue from your time beneath the city.

The doors open, and you can hear your friends speaking to you, but everything is warbled in your ear. You see Halsin come running up to you, a look of panic spreading across his face.

What’s wrong, my love?

You try to form the words as you feel his arms wrap around your waist, but everything fades to black.

[x-neurodivergent-reader]

Adoration Equation (Loki x Autistic!Reader w/ Dyscalculia)

Anon’s request: “Could you possibly do 'Loki with a S/O who has dyscalculia?' (And also autism, if you're comfortable with including more than one?) Perhaps they're on a mission and split up from the others, only for the reader to find themselves in a situation where math is involved (Idk, maybe a keypad equation to open something?), and Loki had no idea about their dyscalculia until right then?”

Summary: You and Loki started dating recently, but as seeing you struggle with a seemingly simple part of a mission will show him, there are still some things about you that he doesn’t know.

A/N: I don't have dyscalculia myself (I did research it, but that's not the same as experiencing it), so please let me know if any of my descriptions of it aren’t accurate, so I can revise them. Apart from that, enjoy!

The reader here is gender-neutral.

Content warnings: Slight insecurity from the reader.

The hallways of the facility you were infiltrating were silent, save for the distant sounds of gunfire and crashing as your teammates fought through anyone who attacked them, to allow you and Loki the chance to get to the main office. The USB stick that would be used to hack into one of the computers and download classified information about the organisation’s plans, along with the ID card you swiped from a higher-up earlier, felt heavy in your pocket, as you stayed alert to avoid anything that could compromise your mission.

You and Loki found that you worked together quite well in the field. Your respective skills matched up nicely, he made sure to communicate clearly with you, and you were often on the same wavelength. It was no wonder that the two of you would be grouped together for this mission – nor, perhaps, that you had become a couple about a month previously.

Just as you were about to turn down the next corridor, Loki stopped you, gently guiding you behind him as he checked around the corner for any guards. His eyebrows creased after a moment, as he slowly walked further down the hall, tentatively giving you the gesture you had both agreed on to follow him.

Surprisingly, despite the door to your destination being in sight, there were no soldiers near it.

“The coast looks clear.” You murmured, just audible enough for your partner to hear you.

“But why…?” He inquired, seemingly listening out for anyone trying to sneak up on you both. “Why would they not guard somewhere so important?”

You looked around for any hidden cameras, and sure enough, you saw a few – one at each end of the hall, and another that seemed to be embedded in the office door. You lightly tapped Loki’s arm, and silently pointed them out to him.

“They might be planning an ambush.” You whispered.

Loki nodded in response, before summoning a small pellet of green magic, and throwing it at one of the cameras at the end of the hall. Before you could process it, he turned, shooting another at the camera in the door and, finally, at the side of the corridor you had arrived from.

A thick silence fell over you both, knowing that someone was bound to come for you now that the cameras had been destroyed. Sure enough, you both heard footsteps, soon followed by a small group of soldiers rounding the corner in front of you, weapons ready to attack.

Being the seasoned warrior he is, Loki immediately had a plan.

“I’ll take care of them,” he murmured to you, “you open the door.”

“Right.” You agreed, turning back to the direction you were heading in, while Loki dove into battle behind you.

Approaching the door, you took out the stolen card, and looked around for a machine on the wall with a slot to slide it through. Your eyes stopped when you saw what appeared to be exactly that, except it had something extra alongside the card slot.

It was a keypad. You hoped that, perhaps, there would be a code on the card that you could enter without too much trouble – but when you used the card as required, the screen on the device lit up with an equation, an extra security protocol that had to be solved to enter the room.

‘Shit…’ You thought, a sense of dread starting to rise within you, as your mind blocked out the sounds of the fight happening nearby. You realised that this was going to be much harder for you than you had expected, if not outright impossible.

Regardless, you read the calculation, hoping it would be simple enough that you could at least make an attempt at it, perhaps by counting on your fingers. You just hoped that you could get it done before Loki finished fighting…

"8 x 2 x 5 + 750 =”

…and, not knowing where to even start in comprehending this, your mind immediately drew a blank.

‘Shit!’ You thought again, your panic increasing with the knowledge that you were absolutely not going to be able to do this part of the mission.

You weren’t sure of what to do now, the pressure from not being able to act on the job making you feel on edge. Should you help Loki finish his fight? Would he be mad at you for not opening the door? Would he think less of you for not being able to? Why did nobody check to see that this was how it needed to be opened-?!

Your train of thought was interrupted when a hand reached in front of you, catching you off-guard and almost causing you to attack on instinct, until you realised that it was Loki, having already finished his fight. You chanced a brief glance at his face – he wasn’t looking at you, focused on reading the equation, but his brows were downturned, like he was either confused or annoyed by your lack of action. You deeply hoped it wasn’t the latter.

Loki entered the answer into the keypad almost immediately, and the door slid open, revealing the dimly-lit office. The one window in the back wall seemed to pour daylight over the desk with the computer you needed to use, immediately drawing your attention to it like a spotlight on a stage.

Your partner stepped aside, silently gesturing for you to enter the room first, so you could use the USB and finish the job. Avoiding his gaze, you practically speed walked into the room, still feeling self-conscious about what had just happened – you hoped the download wouldn’t take long enough for the subject to be brought up sooner, rather than later.

You pressed the button on the monitor that lit up the screen, and plugged the USB into the tower next to it, the device releasing a virus that automatically broke into the computer’s security details, and collected the necessary information for you.

“We’re in.” you told Loki, as he approached the desk. The adrenaline from the mission up to that point caught up to you, and you cautiously decided to slouch in the chair until the download was complete. “Tony said it should take about five minutes, if no one interrupts us.”

Loki nodded, giving a small hum of acknowledgement. You still didn’t have the courage to look at him yet, but were at least grateful that he wasn’t admonishing you. You were dealing with enough mixed feelings about the situation as is, particularly with regards to whether you should have told him about your dyscalculia before all of this. Especially since you were now in a relationship with him, you were starting to feel guilty about not bringing it up.

“Do you have trouble with maths, by any chance?” Loki’s voice broke through the silence. His tone of voice was neutral, giving little indication as to what he was feeling.

Your leg started to bounce as you stared at the screen, internally cursing the fact that this conversation was, indeed, happening already. You still couldn’t tell whether he was mad at you – you never were the best at telling how people were feeling, especially when they were this subtle – and that fact, combined with the previous issue with the keypad, made you start to feel slightly frustrated. You felt like you couldn’t figure anything out today.

“Yeah, I…” You spoke under your breath, leaning forward to further avoid Loki’s gaze. You rested your forearms on your legs, one of which still jiggled as a nervous stim. Given that there was no other explanation, and you could never successfully lie to your partner about this, you supposed you might as well tell the truth. “…my autism isn’t the only, uh… neurodivergence I have. I also have a learning disability called dyscalculia. It basically makes it a lot more difficult for me to understand maths and numbers than it would be for most people. It doesn't matter if it's equations, telling the time, reading maps... I’ve just never been able to really comprehend it.”

Loki stepped forward, and placed a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. His voice was quiet as he spoke. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

You knew that he most likely felt guilty for unknowingly making you do something you weren’t able to, but the gentle tone in his voice made your stomach churn. You couldn’t help worrying that he was looking down on you, whether he meant to or not.

“I didn’t want you to think less of me for it.” You admitted. “I mean, look at how quickly you solved that keypad. It barely took you any effort! You’re one of the smartest people I know, and…” You finally looked up at your partner, seeing how his face softened at the implication, and you moved your hand to cover his, giving the same reassurance he offered you. “…I don’t necessarily think that I’m stupid for it, but I’m not always sure that other people will feel the same, especially since I joined a team full of people who can do maths so easily. I didn’t want you to think that I’m stupid, just because my brain works like this.”

You glanced back at the computer screen, seeing that the USB was close to finishing its download. You sat up against the chair, and let Loki’s hand move to hold yours.

“Darling,” he squeezed your hand, grounding you, “your dyscalculia doesn’t change how I feel about you. It would be preposterous for anyone to judge your intelligence based on a learning disability – you don’t need to be able to do everything to be worthy of respect.”

Loki looked at the computer screen, and with his gaze away from you, you took a moment to watch the way the monitor’s light emphasised the blue in his eyes. You wondered if he ever noticed that when there was no risk of eye contact, you couldn’t help admiring them, no matter how briefly.

“I love every part of you,” he continued, and your breath caught in your chest at what was his first explicit confession of love towards you, “and this is no exception. I simply wish I had known not to put you in that situation before. I’m sorry for causing you stress by doing so.”

“It’s okay.” You grinned up at him, your body relaxing at the knowledge that there was nothing to worry about. “We’ll know to have me be the one to kick their asses next time.”

Loki chuckled under his breath, looking back at you with that sweet, lovestruck smile, reserved only for you.

In front of you, the download window on the computer screen disappeared, signifying that it was complete. You stood up from the desk chair, pushing it backwards on its wheels while you disconnected the USB and stuffed it back into your pocket, and zipped it to ensure it wouldn't get lost.

You then turned to Loki, and gave him a quick yet heartful kiss on the lips. When you pulled away, he gave you that cheeky smirk that you adored so much.

“I love you, too.” You confessed sincerely, before you both made your way to the office doors, ready to face any threats that may wait on the other side together. “Now let’s finish this.”

[nicstylus]

How did Aztec die? She looks so interesting

Great question, thank you anon :D Aztec (any pronouns, but he/him is the default)

Basic Info:

Aztec used to be a necromancer. There's lots of different types of Necromancy, as that's the umbrella term for all death magic.

Aztec in particular had* the ability to harness the remnants of souls** to reanimate/manipulate corpses. An easier way to say it is that he could control bones, but he couldn't control living bones. He could control full corpses, half corpses, etc. Those zombie hands you see crawling around in movies? He could control those. As long as its dead, and it has bones, he could manipulate it.

*I say had because he no longer has this ability, because he's dead. Dead things, no matter how alive they are, cannot manipulate Makar (mana/magika/whatever) on their own and will always need an outside source to help them. i.e. using a magic sword would still work, but trying to enchant a normal sword is impossible.

**When something dies, very small bits of it's soul stays forever in the corpse, until it decomposes completely and disappears. Sucks for fossils, but it is what it is

How he died:

Aztec kept trying to push the boundaries of his magic and use his Makar in unconventional- and frankly dangerous- ways.

He ended up waking up after self experimenting to find that his magic had consumed him: killing and burning his body away and severing his ability to harness his Makar. But since he was still 'alive' per se, we have one 'truly' living skeleton, and the only of his kind.

He can't reverse his condition because 1) His body burned away while he was unconscious (Makar is hella scary y'all) 2) He's dead, so he can't use his old abilities/Makar won't respond to his will. Other Necromancers refuse to try to help because 1) They risk killing themselves, since the angry supercharged Makar that killed Aztec is still swirling around his bones (that's why he's still 'alive') 2) They risk killing Aztec the rest of the way by disturbing said angry, supercharged Makar and causing either a second overload or just dissipating it and leaving his living corpse. Basically he tried to do magic science, messed up big time and now he's an anomaly that no one understands and he's too dangerous to dissect said anomaly (though many have tried to duplicate, because come on, living skeletons- not just the mostly non-sentient undead variety-would make great soldiers. Or, if you're not the world domination type, great board game buddies)

Moments before disaster:

[ganeshpnf]

To the anon that sent me an ask about asking my thoughts about the tv show, Im so sorry but something happened and I think it got deleted 😭 But dw I would still answer it here-

So this would be a critism post and I want to make it clear that everyone is free to reblog and comment their thoughts freely, while being kind. Critism is valid and its not rude, but any bad comments or hateful remarks to any actor, especially child actors, would be deleted. I dont like blocking so dont make me please!

Okay to start, I would be so honest and say I did not find the show successful and I did not like it. I would explain all the reasons, but did it make me feel nostalgia a bit? Yes it did. Did it make me cry at the end? Yes :) I would add pros at the end. But first:

Cgi was really bad, I mean that claiming scene would be a laughing stock in a few years. Chimera? Nope- Medusa's hair also looked better in that movie in 2010. Also they avoided showing Grover's legs so much, also didn't even show us riptide's change...They got 15M per episode and if these are the results, then it is a problem. Background of Percy and Ares's fight- so so greenscreen. I wish Disney can take things seriously.

Lighting was so dark, especially for the lighting thief. Which was such a humor filled book and it was way too colorful. Why make it all so dark and lifeless?

Also humor? Way too low for pjo. "But we are not reading Percy's mind!" Yet, there were so many jokes in the books that could have been add, but they didn't. Yes there are some good jokes (pinecone fate) but to the standart, I expected to laugh way more. Its pjo!

Changes? Well to be honest I am a person who keeps book and show separate, I dont think they are the same at all. So I dont complain about the changes at much. But most of the changes were pointless to me and so many things left unsaid. I wish they didn't make Gabe way too soft. Children's show, yes. But then again, what would you do for later seasons if they cant even show Crusty's dead. Sally's real reason to marry Gabe never get explained, why? 4 pearls, why? Missing deadline? Totally pointless. Not mentioning Riptide's name? Chiron might have say it. Love tunnel? Now its a long one. Rick explained they couldn't do spiders and its hilarious, you gotta do sea monsters man- And instead of a chance to see an actual comedy: live on Olympus and Annabeth losing her shit. We get to see such a early scene of Percabeth drama. Why changing one of the funniest scene in the books to drama? You needed more edits for view or smt? Hephaestus falling over to the speech of friendship was nothing but cringe to me. Moving on, Thalia's acting to Annabeth. Why she is not nice to her and Annabeth had to earn her love. The point was Thalia to remember Jason and taking Annabeth under her wings immediatly bcs of it. Medusa's scene- Instead of us laughing to trio's silly behaviours and falling to her trap like little kids would, we get to hear a monster-hero talk. Yay another speech! Ovid's side of the story also bothered me. Greek mythology, why adding Ovid? Just us to sympatize with Medusa. Lotus Casino scene- We could have watch them have fun and going crazy but noo- they had do add more drama with Hermes. Did not see the point of his appearing either. Why is he there? I wanted to see them being children...And wanted to see the magic of the place!

Now if I move to characters, Percy's I know it all side is just annoying and adds no suspense to the viewers. What's the point if he knows everything already? "But his mom taught him!" But guys, remember, the whole point of pjo was: us to learn with Percy! We were learning the Greek myths with Percy, who is new to the world. They go somewhere and Percy immediatly: "You are Crusty, my mom told stories about you!" 😑 What a relief then! You tell us. Percy's sudden bravery at the end? Dude, he has 5 books for that.

Annabeth turning to a stoic child soldier? Suddenly goody-two shoes? Where are her emotions? Her fears? Her flaws? Her fricking love of architecture? She doesnt need to know everything to be smart girl. She had ADHD, she is 12! Ofc she was supposed to fall in traps. We should have watch her blushing as Luke talks, getting all wet by Percy in the toilet, she was supposed to our little girl. She is not just a badass queen yet, please. Give her personality back. Why she only smiled once at the end of the series? And not having a childhood, not even watched a movie? You guys cant be serious- She grew up in chb! She picked up strawberries, she played games and she watched movies when she was little, remember? She was not in legion... She is one of the most emotional characters, should we remind this to Rick and writers? She cries, she has feeling! Dam she was crying when they left Cerberus! She was a trouble-maker, she stole clothes, remember? Her portrayal was awful...

And about the Gods- Just..."He is trying to make them look awful at the beginning" Then why the hell it was only Athena? Almost turning her to second Zeus- Are you kidding me? You make her suddenly a child killer, when in the books she was nothing like that. Why making her worse, when other gods(Poseidon, Hermes, Hephaestus,Dionysus,Ares,Hades) seem way more human and nicer? You cant tell me he tries to make them worse when they are portrayed like that! No sir- Hephaestus is nice enough to release Percy after a friendship speech. Poseidon is suddenly a perfect dad, he is not sorry that Percy is born. Ares is just a dumb twitter bully, where in the books he was threating them to no end. And fricking Hades?! I am sorry but Hades like that- He should have been scary. But no, he is just a lonely cool guy. I thought he softened after Nico. Cant wait for the development now...

Other than that, one of my most important things: vibe. Sorry...Like I said, it was way too boring for pjo. Even that horrible movies had more vibe! Gimme the vibe!

Pacing? Has a problem and I hope they fix it. Episodes being too short? Also another issue.

Now for the chb, I was hoping to see more activity. Why the camp is not full of noisy kids running around, playing hide and seek like in the books, training wild around the areas, camfire and silly songs? Where are our children screaming and being ADHD demigods? Instead they play chess in the cabin- Please, give more life to chb.

Finally, for the things I liked:

Riptide song!!! That song is my favourite thing in the whole show- Like its soo good.

Seeing Sally's struggle to raise Percy. Also a plus for me. Because I was curious. Also adding Poseidon to the scene was okay. I loved that parts.

Young Percy did awesome and he was such a good actor :)

Percy's dreams were good, I loved seeing them. Congrats! Andd, child accurate cast. It was important. But I wish they hurry so then we wont have it anymore 😭

That was it! Like I said, I find it a bad show, as a fan of 12 years. I waited this for so many years. I was dreaming this. But sorry, bad show is a bad show. At least it did give me some nostalgia and it did make me cry at the end :) I hope they improve because it would suck if they get a cancel before season 5. The bad thing is, I feel they knew we pjo fandom wanted a show for years. And they knew we would eat the crumbs. Its just not fair, you know. They would like it anyway, type. They are not taking it as seriously as they should. With that budget, look at other shows with that budget. I know, its still a kids' show. But I dont think its an excuse for them to upset the fans who waited this long...

Thanks for the ask anon! And like I said, feel free to add your thoughts :)

[dootznbootz]

Can I be for real? I hate when people hate on Circe/Kirke for being morally gray >:( Because all the gods are to an extent. Also I think the saying "You can like her as long as you acknowledge she's a bad person" doesn't really work because you could say that for all the gods. I think it's better to say "You can like her as long as you don't try to justify her actions" because that's what most Circe/Female god fans do. And it's so double standard-y I hate it >:( NORMALIZE LIKING CHARACTERS WHO ARE BAD PEOPLE WITHOUT TRYING TO JUSTIFY THEIR ACTIONS BY MAKING THEM VICTIMS. Especially when there are ACTUAL victims in the myth. Circe wasn't trying to protect herself. She's a goddamn goddess and a daughter of a titan. If she truly felt threatened she would've done something more permanent/serious to them. And if she was a male no one would he saying she was just trying to protect herself or something! I get there's a lot of misogyny in Greek Mythology but Circe is a GODDESS, she's above mortals. If Odysseus had to eat a MAGIC DRUG to defeat her that what could've the other soldiers done???

That's one of the reasons I really hated the Circe Book. It just feels so icky when people try to justify the shit she did. Like boo don't. We don't try to justify Zeus' actions. We don't try to justify Apollo's actions. We don't justify Calypso's actions (Or at least we shouldn't). We don't justify Theseus' actions. Because we shouldn't! So don't justify Circe's either >:((((((

Lmao sorry this kind of turned into my own little rant- Anyways do you have any Circe headcanons/shenanigans? I love my old ass mean witch wife 👉👈

And have a great day too, Mad! :D

All of this!!! Yes! Great points!!!

And that's the thing! You can be a fan of two different characters even if they're at odds or one has hurt the other! I do NOT hate Circe at all! Did she traumatize my special lil freak, Odysseus? Yeah. He's in therapy (AKA Penelope's arms). I still don't hate her!

And I absolutely agree with the whole "I just wanna protect my nymphs!" being kind of silly. It's fine, but I prefer her just being selfish in that moment (at least in my writing. There's more to it but I HAVE A PLAN!)

For headcanons/shenanigans, I'm...trying to be a bit more "stingy" with them, as for 1.) I really love my Circe and she's very special, and 2.) I've...honestly been doing too much into headcanons and not as much into actually WRITING. ;~; Which is what I really WANT to do. So I'll give a few basic silly ones that I'm okay with sharing. :D

1.) Circe has a habit of saying words twice. Like "Oh, oh", "My, my", "Yes, yes," etc. She has that habit from her papa :3 (I really love Helios lol. I wanna have him visit Aeaea during the year Odysseus is there just because I can lol) Once, though, Hermes pointed it out and teased her about it so she's a bit embarrassed and tries to not do that. (it slips out)

2.) She is basically her own lil sun. (not as much as Helios ofc, but yeah. enough) You can't look her in the eyes too long as it's basically like looking at 2 mini suns. If you're a mortal and sit close to her, you may get a sunburn. (she has mostly dryad nymphs working for her because it's a bonus to get extra sunlight.) It's kind of nice when making potions to be very warm so then she can hold it for a while and it'll warm up.

3.) She's kind of a behavioral psychologist/researcher in a way?? (putting my own field of interest into my shit lol) She much prefers the company of animals and immortals. She thinks humans are neat but she sees them more as something to "study". She does not see them as equal in a way. She also finds humans to be a lil gross. Being as warm as she is, mortals tend to sweat if they share the same room as her for a while and...Ew :') (Fun fact: Odysseus is a very sweaty dude, so... yeah. "I'm putting up with this because you're handsome and I want to study you.") It's part of the reason WHY she turns them into "cuter furred creatures". Also cats like laying in sunbeams!!! :D She's so warm! (Odysseus' men were to feed her pets eventually)

4.) She tends to laugh at her own jokes.

5.) Her and Artemis have beef because her having her pets run amock on Aeaea is fucking with it's balance in nature xD basically a bunch of big cat/wolf predators being introduced and what's naturally there can't keep up.

Some other stuff would give spoilers and some are not safe for wormlings so yeah! :D I hope this is good!

You have a great day too, Dear anon! Thank you! :D

[aimfor-theheart]

If you are still doing the ask game how about kaeya + howl's moving castle au? Only if you want!

oh anon this one is so fun i will CRY! the idea of a dramatic magical kaeya....I LOVE. thank you for submitting! <3

howl's moving castle au

kaeya x reader

cw: light catcalling similar to the beginning of the movie!

∘₊✧───────────────────✧₊∘

on your way home from work, you try to keep your head down, lest you attract any unwanted attention. the cobblestones are gleaming like river stones after this afternoon's rain.

you're tired, bones aching, feet dragging. you're excited to get home, enjoy some warm tea and maybe a good book—

"hey cutie, where ya headed?" a man in a military uniform calls out. and the other beside him chuckles, elbowing each other.

you swallow hard. should you answer? should you acknowledge them? maybe you can pretend you never heard them—

"i'm talkin' to you!" he tacks on as you pass, moving suddenly to follow after you. his companion follows as well. and suddenly they're your two shadows in this alleyway. "where are you going in such a hurry?"

you turn barely over your shoulder to address him, but keep walking, picking up your pace, "i'm headed home, sir."

"aw, that's too bad, why don't you come out with us?" he leers, continuing to follow.

you let out a frustrated sigh, "no thank you!"

"don't be like that—" he says, jogging a little to get in front of you. you stop dead in your tracks, coming up just short of him. "why don't you come have a drink with us?"

his companion joins his side in front of you, "yeah, wouldn't that be fun?

"i-i've had a long day, i'm afraid—" you get out, keeping your eyes down. "i'd prefer to go home."

the man leers closer, "surely you can come out for just a little bit—"

"there you are, darling—"

a voice that you've never heard and yet—

"i'm sorry i'm late."

you could've known your whole life.

an arm, easy and gentle, slips around your shoulders. you turn, looking into the face of a man that you've never seen before—umber skin and an eye as brilliant as a star in the night sky. midnight hair like the color of the inside of a magpie's wing; shimmering dark blue.

his coat is a beautiful patterned blue and flaring behind him, gems twinkling in his ears, around his neck. he looks otherworldly, he looks—

"i've been looking everywhere for you."

he smiles and it's beautiful, it's wild and lovely and fond.

"uh—"

"i'm sorry, gentleman, we'll be on our way now." he says and lifts lithe fingers adorned in glinting silver. he flicks them up, then away, and suddenly the soldiers, almost as if puppetted, jerk away from the two of you.

"don't mind them—" he then says to you, ducking his face so his voice is low and warm in your ear, "where to? i'll be your escort this evening."

and as if you've known him all your life, he leads you off, down the alley, and into a bright, new world.

[moonspirit]

Tw: ed

Have you ever thought that armin can have an ed? Like bc he is not as big as other soldiers and all so he just eats and eats and eats even if he wasnt hungry so hed get bigger but it ends with him throwing up bc of these large amounts .

i think armins physique is pretty nice. Like its that slim body but with nice muscles. (Idc what anyone says abt that its the truth) but just him hating himself and his body and when annie finds out shell just be crashed and shell sit next to him and tell him that if he doesnt like his body, she can train him to make it better for him but he just declines bc i hc that armin knows that his body is not half bad- like its standard really but still hates it anyway

Hi anon!

Well, I can see him having some issues with food, perhaps.

I'm a believer in Armin having a severe hatred for his body; while it first probably started out as a simple thing like: "I wish I was as strong as Eren and Mikasa", joining the military made it worse. The preliminaries to become a cadet in training must've been very hard on him and I imagine there may have been some very competitive and derogatory talk amongst the trainees - children can be cruel, and big children with confidence can be extra cruel.

Given the scarcity of meat and other animal products in Paradis after the walls broke, Armin may have tried, during his time training in the military, to eat at least as much as the bigger guys (Jean? Marco? Reiner, certainly) in the hopes that he'd put on height and gain more muscle. Only, when he throws up in the empty lavatories later because his system can't take so much for his build, the self-hatred only gets worse. I don't think he'd have found any solace in confiding either to Eren or Mikasa, resorting to swallowing his feelings and putting on a brave face instead. Military life also doesn't allow for much privacy, and post-graduation, given the Scouts' irregular timetables, it seems unlikely that he'd have been able to stick to frequenting the baths early in the mornings before it fills.

Post-timeskip, however, despite growing taller and stronger, changing substantially in physique as well, Armin's issues with his body are ten-times worse. He hates his body, he's still small and weak, he should eat more, but also has very little appetite thanks to a severe slump and depression. Because he's lost so many people now, perhaps he thinks that if he'd just been built stronger or taller, something may have been different. Somebody may have lived. It's an irrational connection to make even for his logic-wired mind, but sometimes such irrational downward spirals can get the best of you when you hate yourself so much.

It could be that this struggle with food and appetite carries over into his civilian life post-rumbling. Many people seem to agree that Armin periodically just forgets to eat too, thanks to his diplomat duties and stressful lifestyle, and I'm on the same bandwagon.

With Annie, I really think what Armin would benefit the most from is accepting her wholehearted admiration and love for his body. See, I think Annie would get it too; it's not that Armin's dislike of his body will magically disappear if he just gets jacked like Reiner is--and anyway, that's an unrealistic goal to achieve, all things considered--but she can tell him she loves the way he looks, loves the way he feels, loves the way he is, and perhaps that will make it easier for him to go from "I'm not bad but I still hate myself" to "I'm fine. I'm okay. And I'm happy with that."

[chronosdawn]

don't be shy, you can rewrite the howl's plot while still making the crossover 💞💞 (the feral dynamic between howl reader and wotw scara would be so funny (tired exasperated reader vs jaded simpering brat scara lmao)

In reference to this post.

You get it anon, you get the dynamic I'm going for.

Sadly I don't think I can commit to rewriting the whole plot of the movie because that would be a fairly tremendous undertaking (especially when I already have quite a few WIPs that I'm slowly chipping away at). However, because I really love this concept and as a thank you for being my first ask, I have written a little drabble for you anon. I hope you enjoy it!

I'm also open to taking asks about this AU and may write some more drabbles for it in the future so keep your eyes peeled!

A lone figure stood at the mouth of the alleyway leading to the main square, the dark colors of his outfit at odds with the cheerful banners and fluttering flags adorning the nearby buildings. His countenance too, did not match that of the other parade-goers, for if one were to peer into the shadow cast by his wide-brimmed hat, they would find his features twisted in bitter fury—his eyes trained not on the merry townsfolk, but the two figures soaring high above them, one with their arm wrapped around the other.

The figure sank his teeth into the skin of his lip. Even though he’d been working at pursuing you for some time now, he hadn’t expected you to make a trip into town today, not with all the soldiers and crowds. It had been so long since he’d been this close to you that it’d made him desperate, acting with far too much haste and not enough forethought to keep you from getting away. It hurt more, somehow, to have come so close only to have you slip right through his fingers. 

Again.

A faint noise like that of shifting fabric alerted the figure to a presence behind him and Scaramouche, the Wizard of the Waste, turned to face one of his poor excuses for a servant. 

The creature made of writhing shadows bowed deeply, arm held over its chest where its heart had once been before the wizard had carved it out and replaced it with his own dark magic.

“My apologies, my Lord,” the thing rasped, “the sorcerer has escaped.”

Scaramouche’s expression twisted further in distaste as he hissed through his teeth, “yes, I could see that much.” He turned back to where your retreating figure still hung in the sky, his fingers twitching at his sides as though he might reach out and pluck you from it. “At least tell me you’re still following them.”

“The others are trailing them from the ground, my Lord. Once they descend, we shall inform you of their whereabouts immediately and attempt to seize the sorcerer—”

“No,” Scaramouche interrupted, keeping his gaze trained on you. “By the time you catch up to them, they’ll be long gone. Follow the other one, the peasant looking fellow they have with them. Find out where he lives and report it to me immediately.” 

“As you wish my Lord.” The creature’s form started to disperse, the shadows that made up its body slithering away into the dark nooks and crannies of the crumbling alleyway stonework.

“One last thing before you go.” Scaramouche raised a hand, black-purple smoke curling around his pale fingers. A hiss of pain came from behind him as the magic making up the creature’s body began to constrict, distorting its shape even further from anything that could have once been called human. “I’ll be lenient on this occasion, but the next time you disappoint me, well,” his tone dropped, turning deadly, “I have no need for useless things, do I?”

“No, m—my Lord,” the thing stammered out, the tearing vocal cords in its throat rendering the sound akin to nails being scrapped across a chalkboard. 

“Go on then.” All at once the magic at the wizard’s fingertips vanished, and the creature wasted no time in making its exit, leaving Scaramouche alone in the alleyway.

You were so far away now it was difficult to make out the shape of your form—where you ended and the irksome worm pressed against your side began. He couldn’t stand it, the thought of someone else at your side—a place that used to belong to him. No, a place that still belonged to him, and would continue to, regardless of your feelings on the matter. 

But no matter how irritating it was to see someone else touching you, he’d have been a fool not to see it for the opportunity it was. 

Scaramouche knew you, knew that no matter how much you liked to run and hide away from your problems, there was a kindness in you that you’d never quite managed to truly ignore. If some unfortunate soul, particularly one you’d already shown a hint of favor to, were to turn up at your door, cursed and bereft of other options, you’d surely allow them into your home.  And if that cursed individual just so happened to be carrying a talisman upon their person that contained enough of a wizard's magic to break past the infernal seal you kept on the door of your so-called castle, they would be able to lead said wizard right to you.

How fortunate then, Scaramouche thought, that he now had someone he wanted to curse with every fiber of his being.

And once the fool allowed him access to your residence, all he had to do was find where you were keeping your heart hidden away and take it for himself.

[ciaossu-imagines]

Ikerev & Zombie Apocalypse?

Of course, anon dear! I'm so, so sorry this took forever to get back to you but if you're still reading, I hope you'll enjoy the headcanons I thought of for this AU!

Okay, so we're going into this with me forewarning everyone. By it's very nature, a zombie apocalypse AU is going to get dark, gritty, angsty, and probably a little fucked up and as I love getting the chance to get angsty and dark, you know things might get fucked up here and there with some of these headcanons. If that is not your cup of tea or something you think might bother you, it might be better for you to stop reading.

So now that we have that out of the way, if you're still reading, let's get this all started. So, in my head, this AU is less of an actual alternate universe. I still very much see this set in Cradle, with the same universe existing of Magic and the Magic Tower and the different armies. However, I don't see the armies as still really fighting each other - they are at peace and the Magic Tower, though definitely still shady as fuck and definitely still up to no real good, isn't thought of as an absolute threat. Everything seems good and peaceful and that's part of the real set-up of this AU.

So, to get to the real meat of this AU. So, everything is nice and peaceful. Life seems idyllic. But then things start to change. The Magic Tower, still headed by Amon Jabberwock, is doing what the Magic Tower always does - experimenting with the Magic Crystals, seeing what can be done with them. Their latest experiment is working with the crystals and humans to see if, by ingesting bits of the crystals and thus integrating them into the human body, they can enhance the boundaries of what a human body and mind can do. The experiments seem to be well-meaning, are sold as looking to find cures for aging, for disabilities, for anything bad that can possibly happen to a human body or mind. What they're really after, or at least what Amon wants them for, is to create his own army of superhuman soldiers to conquer Cradle, though not even his followers are really privy to that fact.

Too bad the experiments seem to be failing. Most of the humans experimented on are dying…and then things seem to change. Things start to appear to be going well and the Magic Tower rejoices and gets inspired to really test even further limits of the experiment. The long and short of it though - these new Crystal infused humans? They're super-strong, seemingly impervious to all harm except complete decapitation to sever the connection of brain and body, with superhuman senses…oh, and they all go insane. Like, their brain goes bad - all limiters are taken off and they start to act solely on impulses and basic desires instead of any rational thoughts or logic. They're extremely violent if threatened at all or if something stands in the way of one of their wants. They experience extreme hunger at points and if food isn't readily available….well, humans are a source of meat too. They crave sex, food, shelter, warmth, liquid. Some of them retain enough of their personalities to have cravings for things they especially loved before the experiments as well.

The worst thing? Though they start as mindless, they quickly seem to link up into some sort of hive-mind and they start enhancing their numbers. If they don't outright kill, they forcibly turn others into beings like themselves by forcibly feeding them crystals. If the person survives this, they join The Hive.

It starts in the Tower. Amon willingly joins The Hive, makes himself the Head of it. Dalim, being a Disciple of the Tower, is in this initial first attack by these creatures. Terrified and no longer trusting in Amon, Dum does do the right thing in the end and tries to ensure that the experiment dies in the Tower, that none of the infected escape the Tower. He helps get other Disciples out but unfortunately, he succumbs to an attack by several of the infected and gets forcibly recruited into The Hive.

The infected surge out of the Tower and it's not too long before the peace of Cradle is completely shattered and things become a full out 'zombie apocalypse'. The armies each do their best to fight The Hive and protect the citizens but still steadfastly refuse to join forces with each other until much later on in the story.

I see Jonah as being one of the first to die. It's not because he's not strong and more than a capable fighter. It's because he's just genuinely someone who doesn't have a lot of common sense. His death comes in the first wave of the infected out of the Tower. He chose bravery and doing his duty but, after seeing other soldiers downed and even seeing some be forcibly infected, his ego and lack of common sense really did him in and he gets slaughtered and eaten.

Though he'll last throughout most of the story, I do see Lancelot dying. It's his death that inspires the two armies to join forces and come together, actually. The thing is, as a magically strong person already, the Hive (and Amon, their leader) didn't want to kill Lancelot. No, they became almost obsessed with changing him, with making him a part of the Hive. Though Lancelot was strong and clever enough to hold them off for a long time, while saving someone else whilst in the midst of battle, he was left vulnerable for long enough to be force fed what was needed to ensure he would eventually turn. Though the only one who was aware of this was Kyle, who steadfastly maintained that they would find a way to save Lance, Lancelot knew what needed to be done. He told Sirius and Harr the truth of what had happened and begged his two best friends to do what needed to be done - to kill him.

Sirius was the one to actually end up doing the deed. He'd already lost most of his family and by that point, had seen enough other people die. He'd been so strong up until that point and he'd inspired so many people to keep going with his never give up attitude, his optimism that things would get better, and his hard work. But after that, after being forced to kill one of his oldest and dearest friends? He sure kept trying, so hard, but the fact of the matter was that after that, Sirius really started to give up. Another major story event really did him in and he almost recklessly charged into the next major battle with The Hive and was taken down. Those close by at the time said he seemed almost relieved as The Hive killed him.

That other major story event? It has to do with Harr. Harr was a Magic Tower Disciple who had abducted his position the second the Tower started experimenting on humans. It was just something Harr could not handle, could not get behind, so he left. He did his best to keep his eye on things with the Tower though, worried about what might happen. When the worst does happen, Harr feels immense guilt for not having done more to stop this from happening. He becomes obsessed with finding a cure for those infected, with stopping this with as little bloodshed as possible. Loki helps him, as does Kyle, who also becomes obsessive about finding a cure.

As the days and weeks go by though and they seem to be getting nowhere, Kyle starts drinking harder and harder and becoming more and more reckless in his efforts to learn more about the infected. He needs test subjects and by the time the armies manage to trap and transport an infected person to him, not only have they suffered major casualties, but the infected in question is normally dead as well. Kyle becomes tired of seeing people die and being helpless to stop it and he directly goes out into the field. Dead infected specimens aren't helping; he needs a live one and becomes bound and determined to get one. While trying to do so, Kyle gets captured and changed.

The newly infected Kyle is feral and attacks his former comrades, killing Loki. Between Loki's death and Kyle's change, combined with watching Sirius kill Lancelot just the day before, Harr cannot handle things anymore. It's too much and his brain just can't deal. Harr takes a dive, head first, from the place this all started - the Tower itself. He's dead upon impact with the ground, quick and painless, but dead nonetheless.

Because the idea, while horrible, was too delicious to resist…I really do see Dean being brutally savaged and beaten to death by his own infected brother. The sibling rivalry had carried over enough in the infected Dalim's mind for the need to kill his brother to be a major desire of his.

Now, I have always kind of headcanoned that Mousse has narcolepsy. Obviously he doesn't have a route so I don't know for sure if that is canonically true but I see that being his undoing in this AU. He gets infected in his sleep very early on in the story.

Oliver becomes very useful though. He devotes himself to making weapons and traps and fortifying buildings to become shelters. Though he doesn't go into battles himself and is very protected, he's such an important and integral part of everything.

I do see Edgar, Fenrir, and Seth becoming rather famous as front line warriors against the Hive. All or any of them alone become major targets of the Hive because of how many infected they take out and how integral a part of survival in this new world they become.

After Lancelot's death, Blanc and Ray become co-leaders, trying everything they can to gather and ensure the safety of all non-infected individuals. Blanc keeps an eye and really dedicates himself to ensuring the non-infected are safe and taken care of and that shelter, food, water, and basic needs can be met for everyone while Ray leads the more military side of ensuring continued life and safety for the survivors.

Zero ends up specializing in rescue missions, in getting groups of non-infected people to safety, and really ends up becoming Blanc's second in command. Luka, meanwhile, stays under Ray and does fight…Luka's biggest regret in everything though? That he couldn't save his brother. So he becomes foolhardy and reckless at times, taking risks he shouldn't, because to him, if he can save even just one more person…maybe that will take some of the guilt away, absolve him even a little. Even just a smidge.

[ao3wasntenough]

Hehe Friendship is magical! Right back at ya Sam anon! 🫶

Chatter again happy to share some hcs on Ultra Magnus or Mags as Rodinus calls him. He a large mecha and I feel at times he can be intimidating to others even if it’s not his intention. He has seen so much and as Optimus second in command/ leader of the wreckers. The fact he briefly in some transformer series was leading the war on cybertron while the autobot on earth.

Shows a great deal of respect. I enjoyed how in transformer prime series, when we first introduce him, he comes across as in charge and doesn’t want slacking or familiarity. This could be because he lost so many soldiers. He not one to get close to others, this is him coping as for so long it’s been war.

I love the hc that he from the same batch as Optimus hence their similar frames and that they are batch brothers or bonded brothers. He not afraid to raise his opinion or concern.

He more that stoic silent guardian type, but he observes eveything. He the sort who does paperwork to get his mind off things and a way to show he cares. It would be little things like perhaps taking some reports off a bot or taking them off duty. He also very very patient.

For his interactions with bot!Sam I believe he would take a similar role like Prowl did to Sam with providing him tasks/jobs to get him better intergrated into the autobots and for a way to Sam to better get use to his new body (he won’t take dad prowl rights tho). Ultra Magnus possibly hadn’t met Sam as a human so with that prospect he easily over looks.

But he cares for the next generation of his species so Sam unintentionally is a mascot to show there is a chance for Cybertronian to not go extinct and have a future. Mags would also try to take on a teaching role, he feels the need to if he sees other bots like Optimus doing it.

Most of my view of Mags comes from Lost light and Mtmte comics, they can be found for free online and I fully recommend them! Tho warning they are absolutely spark wrenching and wholesome.

That version of him happens to be very intriguing which I won’t spoil in case you read the comics but let’s just say he could understand Sam on the smaller level.

Contrary to belief Ultra Magnus does indeed have emotions, he just doesn’t show them in a usual way. He basically the strict military leader who prefers to address in formal terms then personal ones.

I believe I mentioned Turning point as a good fanfic but I forgot to mention that it is decepticon Prowl redemption centric. But still a great read.

I love so far how you’ve done his character. So just some little thoughts.

I do recommend a YouTube video about Ultra Magnus it’s the Tfp version but it’s cool if you’re interested. It’s called ‘TFP Ultra Magnus Has Emotions. The channel called Emperor Kumquat. He seems to do deep dives into different characters to give perspectives on their personalities.

The idea He lets prowl or Sam’s many parental candidates because that means he basically gets to be the fun uncle now is amusing to me. Like he doesn’t want one of his own but his brothers kid? That’s his kid too, sometimes you know? Gets to return him to whoever so he can go back to his own mess

I know he and Rodimus are often portrayed in the same materials which feels kinda funny that I’ve come full circle from my first cybertronian Sam ideas being him reborn on cybertron during Rodimus era. Strange ways you always happen to find yourself back where you started in some way.

So I’m just imagining he often invites himself along if HotRod or any of his common team are a hanging with Sam so they don’t play a game “how high can we get Sam”

[diezmil10000]

do you have thoughts abt lysinette...

ouughghghhhh many!! many thoughts!!!! i’m still bitter that a lot of good ships didn’t get an A support and lysinette is on par with dorogrid, which is one of my favorite ships in the game. they wrote two girls who are incredibly passionate about magic, love sweets and are younger than most of the other characters, made them fight and make peace about overworking themselves and refused to elaborate. don’t get me wrong, i like their support chain, but—uh. wait.

fe3h spoilers under the cut because we’re talking about lysithea

i just can’t believe they didn’t give annette the opportunity of knowing about lysithea’s crests when she can’t shut up about them in all her other supports. they literally refused to elaborate on why lysithea seems naturally gifted in annette’s eyes, and to me that would have given their fight a better closure that what they chose to end it with. annette should have also been one of those characters who help lysithea remove her second crest if they could end up together, despite her being a teacher and not a researcher in most of her endings.

what i’m saying is that if they can write 3243347 supports of hilda needing help with cleaning and 23789432 supports of sylvain hitting on women who dislike him they could have made a linhardt-lysithea support chain copy with annette. just that, instead of the autistic gay boy with zero empathy (i love him) that wants to study her, lysithea has to deal with the hyperactive girlfail with no filter that wants to study AND kiss her.

i’m just realising i’ve been complaining for a while, but i hope that i don’t sound too negative – i do have other thoughts that aren’t pretentious attempts to Fix The Bad Game. if lysithea developed feelings for annette during the academy phase she would be sooo embarrassed like what do you mean i have a CRUSH? on a GIRL who is a NERD? and her stupid classmates (claude and hilda, maybe leonie) would find out and tease her forever about it. like c’mon lys ask her to dance with you at the ball!! and she does and annette is stupidly oblivious and she just gives up because she doesn’t have time for that.

the reunion post-timeskip would be awkward as fuck for both of them too: annette comes back fully grown and serving cunt while lysithea-- she looks exactly the same tbh but she is 12 whole ass centimeters taller and that’s wild. if they had any prior feelings for each other the timeskip would be like boom! gay reason spell that always crits!! it’s been 5 years and the girl from the other class is now a soldier, and i’m a soldier too and i fight by her side and she’s beautiful, but the war isn’t stopping and no one is stopping me from kissing her either. we’ve grown so much and so differently and i don’t know where to start teaching her the kind of magic i now know about, if she even wants me to. if she even wants me. and goddess do i want her.

anyway. thanks for letting me talk about my brainrot, i’ve been reading a lot of fics about them (something i should have done in 2019 when i first played but hey, better late than never. i’m so thankful for ao3 and all the fanfic writers out there, it’s so rewarding to get back to an old fandom and find all the cool stuff that has been written while you were gone). i hope you have a nice day anon~

[skullsandsteel]

Magic!Anon: Victory!

HYDRA won, INSIGHT was 83% successful! Unfortunately, not every target was eliminated, and there's something of an underground resistance. The Winter Soldier is presumed dead. This is the world Brock wakes up in.

Brock Rumlow woke up to silence.

The first thing he noticed was the air-- It was cool. Clean. And it hit his lungs without the sting of smoke, or the bite of antiseptic. No scorched tang of burned flesh or ache in his ribs.

Brock's eyes snapped open, his heart hammering in his chest before he could even realize where he was. Where he'd woken up.

✘✘ Send Victory! for a roleplay starter in this verse. ✘✘

Note : All characters mentioned can be considered alive- We can discuss it all.

The ceiling above him was pristine-- White with a fresh coat of paint, a far cry from the burning ruins he vaguely remembered being hauled out of. Nothing like the hospital bed he'd been dumped into afterwards, struggling to breathe through the molten wreckage of his face. His face.

Brock's hands flew to his jaw, to his cheek-- Smooth, save for a smattering of stubble. No bandages. No burns.

The realization hit him like a punch to the gut-- Like a building falling on his-- ... Was that all a dream? Them failing to capture Steve Rogers, Insight failing to launch and his entire life going up in fucking flames? It had to be--

He was still half-asleep as he stumbled to a mirror mounted on the far wall of the bedroom-- The face staring back at him wasn't his, or it hadn't been, not for a long time. No melted flesh, no patchy stubble over mottled scars. His skin was smooth, unblemished. And his hair-- His fucking hair-- Was thick and dark, swept back like he'd just stepped out of some mission briefing. "What the hell..?" He muttered, his voice steady. Steady.

There was no tremors in his hands, no underlying ache in his flesh and bones-- He felt... Perfect. A rush of adrenaline shot through him-- He needed answers.

---

Outside, New York- When did he get back in New York?-- Gleamed like a goddamn monument. The streets were spotless, the people orderly. The skyscrapers, now adorned with HYDRA insignias, stretched high into a quiet sky.

"Good morning, Captain Rumlow." A driver greeted him coolly, his voice clipped, polished. Captain Rumlow.

He'd said it before Brock could ask the first question burning in his throat-- Like he should have known.

And him? He was a goddamn king.

Brock Rumlow, HYDRA captain, and Secretary Pierce's right-hand man-- Had found himself in the center of it all, riding in sleek HYDRA-issues cars, escorted by agents who saluted him at every turn. He didn't know how he'd gotten here, but everyone around him acted as if he'd always belonged. Agents stepped aside when he entered a room-- Men saluted him, women smiled at him and, hell, sometimes it was the other way around and Brock didn't mind that too much, either.

And then came the rest, it was a goddamn whirlwind. The endless intel briefings, regard from agents he'd never met, invitations to lavish parties hosted by Pierce. And, when Pierce looked at him, it wasn't with the barely-muted contempt Brock remembered. It was respect, hell-- Brock might have even called it admiration.

And why not?

For a while, he drank it in like a man dying of thirst-- He accepted what was brought to him because that was what he'd always done. He told himself that was what he fought for, what he deserved. And he knew better than to ask too many questions.

The first time he asked about Jack, it was in passing. "Rollins still in DC?" He'd questioned, giving a half-glance over at one of the newer recruits. The agent just blink, obviously uncomfortable, and shook his head. "Rollins didn't make it, sir."

"The fuck you mean 'didn't make it'?"

The poor kid shifted uncomfortably, "He was.. Terminated.. During Insight-- All that with the Triskelion-- They couldn't recover the body."

Brock's hands clenched into fists in his jacket pocket, the room around him buzzing with normalcy-- Like no-one even noticed the weight of what he'd just heard.

Rollins. Dead. Gone. No-- Not just gone. Erased.

Pierce stood in front of them, rattling off numbers and metrics that now meant nothing to Rumlow-- Something about their success rate of suppression units in Chicago. Brock wasn't listening, his eyes kept drifting around the room-- Agents he didn't know, didn't give a shit about.

"You seem distracted," Pierce said later, once the room cleared.

Brock clenched his jaw. "I had a team-- A real time-- Where they hell are they now?"

Pierce tilted his head, his voice was calm-- Patronizing. "They're gone, Rumlow. You're here. You're better than you were before, isn't that enough?"

It should have been-- But it wasn't.

--

The conference room was cold, eerily quiet-- The walls were lined with sleek black monitors, each flashing data streams or surveillance feeds from across the globe. Brock stood at the head of the table and, across from him, Agent Dalton-- The new recruit that seemed too young and too eager-- Fidgeted with a tablet. The kid had been rattled ever since Brock brought up Rollins a few days prior.

"Pull up the Insight files," Brock said, leaving his position to go and stand closer to the agent. Dalton hesitated, "The Insight files, sir?"

"Are you fucking deaf? Yes, the Insight files. I want a list, everyone Zola's algorithm flagged-- Deaths, survivors, the whole goddamn thing."

The agent swallowed thickly, nodding. "Of course." He tapped a few commands into the tablet, and one of the monitors blinked, displaying a categorized list of names.

“Start with the big ones,” Brock demanded, he could see Dalton shrink as he leaned forward, looking over his shoulder at the tablet, ignoring the large screen.

“Tony Stark, dead— Eliminated in the first wave.”

Brock’s jaw tightened, unsurprised. The man had always been too loud, too public. Too dangerous.

“Bruce Banner,” He continued, “Flagged as high-risk but untraceable- He was eventually taken out in India. HYDRA had to utilize specialized units for it.”

“Thor?” Brock demanded, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“Returned to Asgard before launch— No knowledge on his current location but he’s not been back, since.”

Brock hardly wanted to ask— Wanted to know the answer.

“And Rogers?”

Dalton sucked in a breath, tense.

“Out with it,” Brock hissed.

“Captain Rogers was KIA during the launch, last seen on one of the helicarriers before it breached. No body recovered, warm or otherwise.”

That hit harder than Brock expected. Steve, dead? It didn’t sit right— None of it did. He’d seen that man shake off things that would have killed a lesser human.

Dalton had the sense to move on quickly, “Clint Barton was eliminated at his family home. Romanoff went underground, but she’s resurfaced as part of the resistance.”

Brock huffed out a bitter laugh. Of course she had.

“And Wilson?”

“Sam Wilson escaped after everything, he’s confirmed to be underground with the resistance.”

Brock’s lip curled— It should have been expected. Wilson was loyal to Rogers.

“What about the Soldier?” Another question he didn’t want the answer to.

“Well- the Winter Soldier…”

Dead the Soldier was dead. “Well?” Brock snapped, the back of Dalton’s chair creaking under his grip.

“… Is unaccounted for.”

Brock’s eyes narrowed, “‘Unaccounted for’..” he repeated, “You mean he’s dead?” That was going to be the end goal, anyways.

“No sir— No record— He went dark shortly after Insight. Some reports are suggesting he was pulled out by rebels but…”

“We don’t know.”

“Correct, sir. But it’s all classified, remember? We’re not supposed to know.”

“Who’s left?” Brock questioned, ignoring Dalton and leaning forward. “Anyone else?”

“Romanoff and Wilson are leading the major cells, there are whispers of others, people we couldn’t hit right off the bat or people the algorithm overlooked.”

Dalton kept rattling off names and statuses— Lesser agents, his agents.

Rollins, dead. Jensen, dead. Hayes, dead. Riley, dead. On and on— STRIKE was a fucking ghost of what it used to be and he’d not even met his ‘new’ assignments yet. HYDRA expected him to rebuild it with fresh-faced kids who didn’t know how to hold a knife right.

Rogers, Dead. The Winter Soldier, Missing. Romanoff, Alive.

Everyone HYDRA had feared or wanted gone was either dead or pushed underground— Brock sat there, unease roiling hot in his chest.

“Dismissed,” Brock snapped, turning on his heels and stalking out the room— Leaving Dalton alone.

He’d gotten everything he’d ever wanted, right? But there was a weight he couldn’t shake—

*What the fuck was the point of all this? If there was nothing left for them to fight against?*

HYDRA had won. They’d burned the world to the ground and rebuilt it in their image. But somehow, for the first time, Brock wondered if the rebels had the right idea.