#a family of dysfunctional powerful mages

[storywolf]

wolf is the youngest of his siblings, and he had 11 older siblings. there is also quite a gap between himself and his siblings, so when he came around, most of them didn't really care that much. some used his youth as a reason to use him as a punching back or be overly judgemental. some were jealous bc despite being the youngest, he was more magically powerful than some of them. so they bullied him. some just didn't care about him enough to bully him or stop the bullying. the one of his siblings actually seemed to care. the eldest one. she was the only one wolf could stand to be around for a long time too.

[sweetmage]

Gaze From The Pavement (AO3 Link)

Relationships: Hawke siblings, Hawke & All Companions, eventual M!Hawke/Anders, eventual F!Hawke/Fenris Word Count: 6901 Tags: Magitechnology, dystopia, found family, hurt comfort, organized crime, banter and humor, twin!Hawke AU ⚠️The following tags are TWs for later chapters but are not central themes of the fic: Mentions of abuse (all kinds), mentions of suicidal ideation, canonical major characters death (Leandra, Karl, etc.), unnamed character death, mentions of drugs and addiction. (Please see the AO3 link for the full list of tags and future TWs!) Summary: After Lothering is overrun by 'darkspawn'—mysterious self-replicating organic and mechanical beings from a bygone age—the Hawke family is forced to flee to the towering, smog-filled City of Chains. There, they find themselves embroiled in hard mercenary work, family dysfunction, and the Chantry's high-tech and overbearing systems of surveillance and oppression built upon the backs of generations of Circle slave labor. At least the drinks at the Hanged Man are still cheap... ~~~ The same Thedas we know but set in an AU where the Chantry has forced rapid technological advancements over a few generations by using their Circles to research, develop, and manufacture magitechnology, including those used to further mage oppression and aid them in their grasp for economic and political power. This is a highly canon divergent rewrite of Dragon Age 2, though expect similar themes and a similar tone. The world is bleak but the Kirlwall Crew is making it through together!

[rumeysawrites]

IINTERDIMENSIONAL LORE POST #1 CHARACTER IMTROS: #1

Ever since college started last month, I could barely post anything. So instead, I'm doing a summary of the characters I was planning to post about throughout October. I was going to make brief lore posts about each of the characters during the birthdays I assigned for each character. But since I couldn't, here're s a 1-2 line summaries for each one! Enjoy!💙

Oh yeah! Some spoilers ahead-

~~~

October 2nd: Arwyn Iluthmil

Polite, quiet, abd naive and dreamer of an elven prince who who acted as a diplomat for his queen sister, who then gets entangled in legendary (and more) shenanigans far beyond even his imagination, and ends up having to be the peacemaker of the most delightfully dysfunctional and chaotic team in the entire Interdimensional series (yes I'm talking about Team Space).

October 5th: Melitia Solis:

A sweet and friendly but resilient craftswoman in training, later moves on from her unrequited love for the cute waiter boy from the café across the street, and becomes a respected and powerful enchantress, also becoming one of the main supporters of the Legendary Carriers throughout their missions.

October 6th: Nahia Bernalmi / Bluebell:

Non-magical firstborn princess of a magical kingdom in the sky, gives up her right to the crown after her younger susters are born and becomes a scholarly temple maiden, encouraging edication and literacy across the kingdom.

October 8th: Wendolana Witxen:

Adventurous and hotheaded, yet loyal and funny shapeshifter woman, raised as a Lightning Warrior, and now watching over the Legendary Spirit Hui, while also being an epically fun and chaotic older sister figure for the rest of Team Space.

October 9th: Taika Marisol:

The friendly neighborhood magic shop owner, who actively practices witchcraft and is known for her cheerful attitude.

October 10th: Ludus:

The playful messenger of an echanted city state thriving in the middle of a desert somehow, and the character with weirdest and most random lines and pranks.

October 11th: Alondra Busker:

A young musician and sound mage, still grieving her mother's loss, having to take her mother's former title amongst the ranks of BSA and act as a guide and protector to the young Legendaries. She's also one of the eight POV characters in book 1. Also, she's the leader of the band "Radiance" which falls apart due to interdimensional shenanigans but gets back togather in time.

October 13th: Sarannah Hudson:

The chaotic and moody younger sister of The Lawful Good of the Legendaries (Kent), who actually just wants equality between Trickers (people with magic but no powers like herself and her mother) and Ekermins (people with both magic and powers, like her father and brothers), but doesn't know how to go about it, yet.

October 15th: Selene Roussit:

Cheerful, adventurous, and charismatic mountain princess, prankster eldest child, and the leader to one of the Legendaries' most important group of allies.

October 17th: Ninlil Bernalmi / Bluebell:

Youngest sister of Nahia and Aella, and the most carefree, talkative, and humorous one.

October 17th: Koios:

Brilliant minded but also troublesome, little Elulai boy (Elulai are an original spieces), who followed Tom (one of the very main characters) around and persisted until Tom accepted him as his first ever apprentice for his craft (and inventing) shop, also hyping him and the other members of the shop as well as the people for whatever's to come.

October 18th: Maritza Renshaw:

Brave, fun-loving, and friendly noble lady of the biggest trade city & island in Yugenri, who accompanies and helps the Legendaries through the Solium War, then gets married to a kingdom with problematic traditions (which I can't go into detail just yet) which she starts a silent rebellion against.

October 20th: Florea Leratis:

The black sheep of the noble Leratis family, also the reason why some of her siblings ended up with a traumatizing amount of pressure throughout their childhood. While all ten of her other siblings are members (and some even chosen heroes) of BSA, Florea willingly joins Dark Crystal (the enemies of BSA) and currently acts as a healer and spellcaster for them.

October 21st: Naima Hakeem:

Wise and comforting elder sister of a Legendary Carrier (Nour) and one of the best friends of another main character (Alondra), as well asa master of light and illusion magic. (I also just realized there are three birthdays from that same friend group in October with Alondra, Naima, and Selene-)

.

October 22nd: Eliarys Greggoff:

Lady Wind Knight who ends up accompanying Miracate (Rosena's younger sister) in an epic quest, while she (Eliarys) herself is aiming to help rebuild her destroyed hometown and find her misding brother.

October 23rd: Elinor Hudson:

The only character who can balance having the full time job of an interdimensional guardian, and raising three kids and at the same time, while being fairly well at both (even if her daughter is a bit of a problem child and her oldest son gets into life-threatening quests in other worlds regularly from teen years onward). Despite her troubled past, she's also a really fun person and a bit of a prankster, famous for inventing a charmed hot chocolate that makes whoever drinking it breathe bubbles.

October 24th: Cassia Dacre:

An intelligent and perfectionistic small town noble girl from the kingdom in the sky again (Eliri, for reference. This is the fourth character from Eliri-), who's later involved in tracking and and unmasking of spies of Lorkness inside the Legendary Alliance, however falling in love with one of them herself.

October 25th: Cecimeric Wiannlieth:

A new character I'm developing. Is the king of the elves of Mirunia (the only kingdom in Meras who're openly allied with BSA and the humans in Yugenri) and the first target of Eihlor when he's released for this reason, along with the rest of Mirunia.

October 26th: Jake Springlet:

The moody, stubborn, and sarcastic prince of Yugenri's agricultural center region ((a kingdom but not reaaly), with the power of thorn manipulation, a noticeable hatred for the humans of Tiria (regular Earth), funny one-liners, and a temper even shorter than him somehow. :D (And he's the last nobleman for October! Thank goodness! Eiwen doesn't count-)

October 27th: Libet Lamarre:

A teenage shapeshifter girl who who was trained to be a "villain", swore to evenge her childhood best friend who was killed when the Legend was first revived, joined the Solium War on the "villains'" side, fell prisoner, and joined Team Space to reclaim her freedom, and became one of the most delightfully chaotic members of the most delightfully chaitic team in all of Interdimensional. Yeah. She's something.

October 28th: Eiwen Iluthmil-Niarien:

The weird aunt of Maerwynn, Arwyn, and Aelwen; who's married a member of a wealthy member of the Merchant Council in one of the trade cities in Meras, and lives a distant life. However, no one also knows the fact that she's started to hear voices...of the spirits.

October 29th: Kelley Trace:

Ey! It's Kelley! My first ever character in the Interdimensional series! She's a double agent, a healer, a die-hard survivor, used-to-be assassin; blunt, sarcastic, humorous, can be mischievious, but also has a caring and empathetic heart. There's far too much to tell about Kelley, but she's a blast for me to write regardless!

October 31st: Helevisse Arinimavel:

Of all my characters, she could be the best definition of a "don't judge a book by its cover". At first glance, she's a cute little wood elf girl with pigtailed pink hair, floral patterned dresses, and a magic staff with a cute flower shaped gem. Upon further inspection, you notice she's a master of poison, banned types of magic, and is the type to enjoy some popcorn while watching the world burn; is also among a class of 20 "villains" in training, being one of the two that even the higher-ups noticed the chaotic nature of. She heard of Halloween from her Tirian classmate Ellenie and loves the fact that her birthday is on a holiday where people scare eachother.

~~~

So, if you read them all, thank you! I hope you enjoyed this all! Let me know if any of the characters sound particularly interesting or if you'd like to hear more about any of them! And yes. I have A LOT of characters and only one of them in this post will be a POV character in book 1, two others in following books. But yeah. They all have a role. :)

Tagging: @dearunreliablenarrator @seastarblue @daishitheprofessionalfool @avalordream @heycerulean @author-a-holmes @writeblrfantasy @the-ellia-west @azz-writes @the-letterbox-archives @thecomfywriter @leahnardo-da-veggie @imsoveryveryconfusedatlife @illarian-rambling @paeliae-occasionally @charbroiledchicken @ and everyone else! I hope you all enjoyed this!

[askatrigenderlgbt]

Marvel Prompt~

(Loki is sitting on the floor of the common room facing the window, deep in concentration. Constantly fidgeting around, scratching at his arm absent mindedly. Tony and Clint walk into the room.)

Tony:Lokes? What are you doing on the floor?

(Loki didn't answer, not even appearing to hear Tony at all. Sharing a look with Clint he tries once more. Still, Loki doesn't answer. Clint walked carefully into Loki's field of vision before getting closer, then he gently taps on the mage when he still doesn't seem to notice him. Loki startles.)

Clint: Sorry! Sorry, didn't mean to make you jump. Just wanted to know if your okay?

Loki: *Confused* I... I am fine, really. But what made you think I wasn't?

Tony: *Walking over* You were staring out the window at nothing with a look. We thought you had something on your mind that was bothering you.

(Loki paused, considered it, then blushed slightly in embarrassment.)

Loki: *voice slightly quieter* I was trying to remember what I forgot, that I was supposed to remember, but I can't remember. My head feels... Full. Yet, it feels full but also feels like it's empty. Different things seem to be too much right now, things are louder without any logical reason, and I just can't seem to start any of my tasks. I can barely focus on getting these words out coherently.

(Clint and Tony turned to one another, a rapid and clear conversation passing within seconds by mere eye contact. Tony faces Loki and asks him a question.)

Tony: Loki, I think I might have a clue what is wrong but I need to ask what might seem to be a random question. Is it ever hard for you to sit completely still? Like, without fidgeting at all?

Loki: *head tilt* People can actually sit like that?

(Tony and Clint recommend Loki to take a few tests in order to confirm their suspicions. It didn't take much to confirm that Loki in fact had ADHD like them.)

(Finding out he had ADHD, Loki found a few answers for things he would do in the past. The emotional dysregulation, anger issues, body dysmorphia, and ect, made a lot of Loki's past more easier to understand why he did things the way he did. It also probably didn't help that his family was already dysfunctional as it was.)

Loki:... Up side is, I now know I have potentially MORE power if I am able to manage my disorder! I maybe unstoppable now! Villains shall face my fury!!!!

[talldarkandroguesome]

21st of Last Seed, Middas

We have arrived back home. It feels good to be back in the manor, though I miss the easy days of being with the Nest or with Sildras and Avon. I spent more time tending to my ancestors as well.

There is a strange feeling in the house. I think it is all the residue of the magicka that had to be used to diagnose and then reward the house. I cannot believe that something had disrupted wards that had been placed on this manor in the 1st era! I suspect that something even beyond that which Urtisa was capable of must have happened.

I wonder what might have the power. It would have to be something very strong. A high powered mage or even a Daedra of some kind. The specialists at Shad Astula are still working to try and piece together the source of the disruption. They say something altered the enchantment in the wardings and had caused it to actually begin to fuel whatever strange maladies were befalling us, rather than protecting us.

They say that it is very peculiar indeed and are trying to figure out if it is because the age of the wards that they failed due to circumstance, or if something actively caused it. Regardless, it was a very frightening thing to behold. I was glad that Zethith was willing to clear out my hidden temple chamber and replace it with what would appear to be a secret room designed to keep one alive should the house be under siege. It meant that even if any of the illustrious mages of the university did somehow manage to stumble upon the place, the fact that there were extra protections there would make sense.

Of course, I now owe quite a few favors to Zethith and already I have had one that has been called due. Zethith wanted me to reconsider my stance on killing within my own House. I had initially been very against the idea. For a start, I am always the first scapegoat for all the House when it comes to any slights against them.

Second, despite how dysfunctional the House may be, it is the product of the House system and the well being of those whom I love so often depends upon the might and influence of our House. I would not risk anything that might sway that balance and risk weakening our House and exposing those I love to danger.

And finally, I have always feared that if I start to take the lives of those who I know well, it might eventually cause me to dull that part of my mortality that keeps me from simply murdering anyone at anytime that I am displeased. I have heard of many a soldier who, having taken countless lives, starts to see those around them as just as likely an enemy. I was raised on tales of those with the ambition to raise their ranks, who grew bold and cold and suddenly found it easier to take any life that stood between them and their desires, even if it were over the most mundane inconvenience. Even in House Intelligence, we constantly were reminded that, unless it were for some grave reason, we would never be asked to so much as consider harm to one within our House. Not unless they had betrayed the House itself.

Everything I have ever been taught has spoken of staying your hand when it came to taking the life of one of your own. It is a slippery slope and not one which I wish to fall down. As with my own uncle, if I had simply killed him, I cannot imagine the plight of our House. And in the end, when he was able to lay pride aside, he recognized me for who I was. We had little time to mend a rift that was older than my whole life, but he was still able to find that before he passed.

A life taken cannot have that opportunity.

Yet I needed to protect my family and myself. We needed to have the House looked at. Zethith agreed to add more protections once the matter was settled and so I agreed that I would lift my ban on targets within my own House.

A part of me feels like I have made a grave mistake. That I have given up more than I gained. It would not be unlikely given that I am bargaining with a Daedra. Yet I know that Zethith and I are bound for as long as I am useful to my Prince. That I am going to become more and more like Zethith with each death I face. And perhaps with each life I take. Does an act of giving to my Prince do much the same?

How would I even know if it is changing me? Would I only know when it was too late? Or should I even know then?

[paeliae-occasionally]

OC Deep dive

Thanks to @saturnine-saturneight, @the-letterbox-archives, @willtheweaver and @ominous-feychild for the tags.

I will answer for Apollo, Marsh and Xaeren.

What uncommon/ common fear do they have?

Apollo has a really bad fear of being helpless, specifically not being able to help and provide for those he loves.

Marsh is secretly afraid of loosing Daimion, the only true human connection he has left.

Xaeren has a fear of failure. He has to achieve highly in everything he does, and he cannot lose now.

Do they have any pet peeves?

Apollo really doesn’t like silence. He will always start humming or talk to someone just to fill the quiet.

Marsh gets bored really easily so gets frustrated when people repeat themselves or at any repetitive task he has to do.

Xaeren hates useless things. If something or someone serves no purpose he just has no time for it. He gets quite frustrated at people he considers useless keep trying to interact with him.

What are 3 items you can find in their bedroom?

Apollo: A set of carving tools to make runes, a set of diagrams to plan and some food.

Marsh: knives, letters from Daimion and a plastic prison issue hairbrush.

Xaeren: scattered papers covered in notes and workings, runic tools, stacks of books for his research.

What do they notice first in a person?

Apollo notices a lot about people. Usually pain first though. He looks into peoples eyes and can tell if they have been broken like he was.

If marsh doesn’t recognise someone, he notices their role and rank first to determine whether their life has worth to him.

Xaeren notices someone’s magic and intelligence first. He first will check if they are a god, a mage or non-magical becuase two of those categories likely want him dead, then he will check how clever they are because again, he needs clever friends but is targeted by lots of powerful people.

On a scale of 1 to 10, how high is their pain tolerance?

Apollo: 10 he has been through a lot. There is very little physical harm that would phase him.

Marsh: 7 just above average. He was a part of the military for a while and as such has been through a bit, but he was too good to get badly hurt, so he is still not really used to pain.

Xaeren: 8. Physically lower, emotionally higher. He escaped from the Ponturesi quite young so never got the long term abuse Apollo went through and since then he has done quite well for himself.

Do they go into fight or flight mode when under pressure?

Apollo is quite calm under pressure, but when something tips him over the edge his instinct is to take his friends and run. He knows when all is said and done, it is better for him to be alive to try again.

Marsh goes into fight. Obviously.

Xaeren also fights but in a different way to Marsh. He will start thinking at a million miles per hour and find a way out. This will usually be attacking in a new and inventive way.

Do they come from a big family/ are a family person?

Apollo never knew his bio family but he has 5 adopted siblings and loves them more than anything, so yeah a big chosen family.

Marsh only has Daimion. Their parents had a really dysfunctional relationship and were never there for them, they both joined the military young and had each other the whole way. Marsh is incredibly loyal and will do anything for Dai.

Xaeren has always been more of a loner. He values alliances but struggles to see people as friends. This is only made worse when he decides he likely won’t live past killing Schaeres, and basically gives up on connection altogether.

What animal represents them best?

Apollo could be a swallow. They are quick, agile and protective while also being travellers and resilient over long periods of time.

Marsh would be a hyena or a caracal. Both of these animals kill for sport, are incredibly efficient killers and can form very specific but strong bonds with others.

Xaeren would be a snake or a stoat. He is incredibly persistent and attacks creatures much bigger than himself routinely.

What is a smell they dislike?

Apollo smells like a coniferous forest. Like pine needles. He has been living in the forest for a bit, he cleans himself with runes and streams, but he still smells like nature.

Marsh smells faintly of iron and rust. Blood never fully washes out.

Xaeren smells like many things. The ocean from living on the coast, old books, market spices in Zairel and many other blending cultures.

Have they broken any bones?

Apollo’s bones have been broken.

Marsh has never broken a bone. At least, not his own bone.

Xaeren’s wrist was broken as a child, then since he has had a series of travel injuries that he can quickly heal with the runes.

How would a stranger likely describe them?

Apollo would be described as practical, kind and observant.

Marsh would be terrifying. He looks like he would kill you, and would eagerly do it if provoked, or just particularly bored.

Xaeren is mysterious with his coat with a thousand pockets and his magic subtly engraved in nearly everything he wears.

Are they a night owl or an early bird?

Apollo is both. He wakes up at the crack of dawn and then stays up to see the stars. He never wants to be underprepared and uses all of the time he has carefully.

Marsh is an early bird. He is awake at 4:30-5:00 every morning. That might be because of his unit’s timings in the military, then he is asleep as early as he can be.

Xaeren is a night owl. He thrives in the half-dark of dusk when no one sees him running across the rooftops of Zairel.

What is a flavor they hate and a flavor they love?

Apollo loves cinnamon and he hates gooseberries.

Marsh loves curry and hates stew

Xaeren loves spiced deserts and hates root vegetables.

Do they have any hobbies?

Apollo sings. He is actually quite good at it.

Marsh can whittle. He used to make more knives.

Xaeren is great at sculpting clay and stone, because he has used them to make runes for so long. He also has a great memory.

Boom, surprise birthday party! How do they react to surprises?

Apollo doesn’t like surprises, but he would go along with the party as to not upset the people who organised it. He would play up his gratitude for the thought of the party and play down his discomfort at the sudden event.

Marsh would enjoy it. He is naturally quite spontaneous.

Xaeren would not be pleased, but would act unsurprised to regain his composure. He would be very suspicious if someone threw him a part and would probably leave quickly if he couldn’t find their ulterior motive.

Do they like to wear jewelry?

Apollo doesn’t really wear much jewellery. He doesn’t own much.

Marsh doesn’t either, it isn’t worth the effort of getting that into jail and it would get in his way.

Xaeren wears specialist jewellery engraved with runes so if he is ever without his pouch of runes he can still cast teleportation and simple combat spells.

Do they have neat or messy handwriting?

Apollo’s handwriting is semi-neat. He was never formally educated, but still he writes letters to tyro sometimes so he has a bit of practice. He has learned to be precise in his writing when making runes but he rarely bothers with that in normal letters.

Marsh has terrible writing. Like straight up illegible. He doesn’t write very much.

Xaeren has impeccable handwriting. His lines of equations have to be very neat to be re-read and he carves runes so is very precise in his detailing.

What are two emotions they feel the most?

Apollo: fear and love

Marsh: Boredom and joy

Xaeren: stressed and sarcastic

What kind of accent do they have?

Apollo has a central altic accent becuase most of the Ponturesi are from the Altic capital.

We are unsure about Marsh.

Xaeren has a zaireli accent while speaking wysindi but an altic accent when speaking altic and runic.

Tagging @sunglasses-in-the-bentley, @sunflowerrosy, @phoenixradiant, @wyked-ao3 and @theink-stainedfolk

[softlyspun]

Costuming Research: Elliott Vale

After the chapter that @ginger-and-mint just put out, the least I can give poor Elliott is a set of costumes. (He would not thank me for it.)

So. This is just about the opposite end of the socio-economic spectrum from Greyson. Elliott is the scion of one of the most powerful families of di-mages, both in terms of political and magical power... and heir to all the pressure and dysfunction that comes with that title.

Elliott's most striking and consistent garment is a black jacket. Sticking with the turn-of-the-century time period laid out in Greyson's post... I'm giving the man an Inverness Cape. You've seen an Inverness Cape before.

Here's Basil Rathbone as Sherlock Holmes wearing a plaid one.

And here's a fashion plate of one from 1901 (Thanks, Wikimedia Commons!)

This one's technically an Ulster Coat, but it's an extremely similar beast.

It's dramatic! It lets you swoop around melodramatically if you're in such a mood! It's a profoundly practical garment, especially if made out of black wool: it can be practically waterproof or snowproof, which is an important factor given Oppendorff's snowy winters. Its silhouette neatly hides the shape of your actual body. (And it's exactly the sort of thing I would have worn at 23 if I hadn't made myself a full circle-cloak, and would have considered the epitome of cool. Still might, actually, if I can ever get the hang of button-holes.)

Under that coat, Elliott is probably wearing high-waisted wool or linen pants (depending on the season), as typical for the turn of the century. (I'm going to have a later post on the specifics of fabric weave/composition, because I have Opinions on how to construct in-period garments with extra stretch to them.)

Elliott is described on his character sheet as "Always dressing in nice clothes, which people chalk up to snobbishness." I would interpret this as him dressing a level more formal than the situation calls for. "The Black Tie Blog" did a fantastic job curating some more formal fashion plates that would be appropriate. I'm including a couple of my favorites here.

We have an Inverness Cape on the left! And such nice high collars! (This set is from 1894). I'm a little torn on whether Elliott would go for waistcoats: on the one hand, wearing one when the occasion doesn't call for it would add another dimension of apparent snobbishness, on the other hand, he's generally hiding under his black coat anyway, and having an additional restrictive garment wouldn't' really help with his di-mage casting.

And, in honor of the latest chapter, we should look at some turn-of-the-century sweaters. These are courtesy of "The Victorian Dancer." Now, it's possible that Elliott would end up with something fairly simple: the Vales don't exactly seem like a "knitted sweaters from the aunts" type family.

This ad from 1899 gives a few options available for sale.

But honestly? I want to put him in something more intricate, with some pretty cabling, like this Guernsey sweater:

Next time, let's dig into someone with potential for some interesting folk designs in his outfit: Bramley Nubbins, and the fun of folk art and embroidery in shepherding communities.

[ashitakaxsan]

My  Review about Konosuba

Recently I’ve  gotten into “Konosuba”,I watched both two seasons.They’ll be Spoilers ahead.Plus We see that irony in the real Strong Degree.

The whole light novel uses a lot the irony,and that the MC Kazuma’s flaws,perversion and miscalculations really buy him  trouble.He’s a skilled  teenager forming a team of dysfunctional adventurers,in the town of Axel.Namely with the goddess Aqua,the Magician Megumin and the  masochistic crusader named Darkness(her real name is Lalatina Dustiness Ford) .

“Hold it.How does Kazuma buy by himself troubles?”,you’ll ask me.

Obvious:His perversion to steal(with magic)the panties of rival girls,and relish it.*1 Plus with his misjugdement about where to teleport way the power source of the Ominous fortress Destroyer(before finishing the self destruction).They did..only soon Kazuma gets under arrest because this one ended up destroying a noble's mansion!!Thus he goes on trial.

Below:How embarassing for an Adventurer  all the trial and the accusations of his wrongdoings.

 Plus  Kazuma is accused of having malevolent business with the Devil King..On the Trial all of his perverted crimes are brought to light.

But unexpectedly to everyone Darkness reveals she’s member of the Dustiness family,and convinces the judge to give Kazuma a stay of trial. Now tasked with proving his innocence and repaying the damages to the mansion, Kazuma quickly sees all his belongings get confiscated to pay his debts.Be aware the scene is a shock.

Just on the end of season 2 the team goes for vacations to  the  Arcanretia Hot Springs.However nothing goes as planned!The team finds out that one of the Devil  King’s generals,Hans the Deadly Poison Slime,contaminates the Hot Springs.Thus the team charges to fight him,the really made it.

But how ironically,albeit the Goddess Aqua purified the Springs She couldn’t make them healing,as in the past. Now they were mere  water,and the citizens kicked out the hero team. Man,it sits so Ugly(:

But not all are so.Because the Explosion mage Megumin has love feelings for Kazuma:)The hints in the first two seasons are subtle,but obvious about how much she cares for Kazuma.Such as when she gives a name to Kazuma’s katana:”Chunchunmaru”.

How will the third season of Konosuba go?It will be focused on Megumin chan:)

*1:That’s an insult to women.As far as I can tell the “equality on all sexes” doesn’t make you look good,neither justifies this action.

[loominggaia]

What is the process of zefer taking down a vampire clan

Zeffer himself talks about this in "The Aldfog Mystery". Basically, every clan requires a different strategy.

One clan lived in underground tunnels, so he planted dynamite in strategic areas and caused a cave-in, crushing them all to death.

One clan was full of telepaths. They always sensed when he was nearby and they would blockade all their doors and windows when he approached, so he planned to start a forest fire to flush them out of their house and then snipe them with his crossbow.

He infiltrated multiple clans by marrying into them, earning their trust over several years, then betraying them when they least expected it. Once he knew their weaknesses, he exploited them for a swift clan-genocide, either stabbing, shooting, or poisoning everyone. In one case, he lured everyone into a single room and locked them inside, then set the room on fire.

As Zeffer explains in the story, he had a serious edge over these clans because they were all descendants of Evangelite slaves. This means they received zero education and didn't have much--if any--money. Taking them out wasn't hard for him because it was like murdering a bunch of poor, dysfunctional hillbillies that the whole town resents. These ex-slaves were hiding away in the wilderness of Evangelite slave-country, plus they were vampires, so the law definitely wouldn't protect them and neither would anyone else. Each individual clan was on its own.

Zeffer wasn't able to take out the Dusks at first because their clan was too powerful. The Dusk clan had a lot of money, a lot of allies in Taybiya, and they only accepted well-educated, powerful mages into their "family". Zeffer would've been shredded if he tried anything.

Of course, that situation changed later on...

*

Questions/Comments?

Lore Masterpost

[revelisms]

A big prosey ramble on Terzo, Omega, and messy love, because I haven't been able to get these two out of my head recently.

WC: 1k | Suggestive themes, complicated relationships, existentialism, dysfunctional family dynamics, hurt/comfort

There's a pact one signs, once the Gate has been handed what it's due:

When the old tongue has been spoken, and the dark psalms sung; the Devil's touch fishhooked through a human eye, and its Sight wrenched to nothing, a blinding everything, an All few could endure;

Once the lines of the Undead have marked them: sanctioned them as the Unholy, the Half-Living, the Above and Below: draped them in silks fit for kings and gloves for killers;

A prophecy so ancient one could choke on the dust off its words.

Their fate will devour their Will, like a shark waiting to feed—and chain any of scrap of agency left, like a dog.

Few would dare to deny it.

Terzo, though, has never been one to play by the rules. 

Even now—with the Sight of what is yet to come thorned about his mind: every rut and stone he could walk known as well as the blood-bitter sting of his own spite.

It's why he twists crowds around the points of his fingers, for those scant hours of freeness; hunts for lovers' touches in hands his rooms will rarely welcome again; wanders the paths of his own head more than the gravel beneath his feet. 

Why the sight of his brother's summoned Unnamed—the First and the Last, the End All-Be All, the One (his One)—had left him stuttering on his heels.

He could see it. Hell beneath, see this:

The two of them, trapped in the maws of a forest fire; in a promised somethingness.

A path veering off course like a runaway train.

A doomed light at the end of a self-made tunnel.

And this—

(Demon-claws at his waist, his shirt shucked to the floor, the chain at his neck clapping to his skin like a noose—) 

This is a loophole. Legalese in a contract penned in his own blood. A selfish want fueled by a hunger to be seen, to be known:

To be shoved back wontedly, greedily, in a music room spidered with dying light, and feel the brand of those otherworldly hands on him—thighs and ribs and lungs, dragged through the hair that silks down his stomach, through the beat-beating valley that puffs beside his heart:

To let himself shiver and sigh and roll his head back, bite down the burr behind his teeth, beg—

"Cardinal—"

A voice like Hell itself. The keyboard clanging beneath his hips. 

"Come here," he growls back.

They shouldn't be doing this. 

He knows the superstitions. Growing up in these halls had spoonfed him with it: the crumbling of the Gate that had nearly been; the fear that even lesser ghouls, under the right circumstances, could usurp the Exalted's power.

It had happened, once before. The Bloodline only had so much demon-magick in it, after all.

This one knows it, too.

"Cardinal."

He doesn't care. He's lightheaded. He's lonely. 

The chipped varnish of the piano's edge whines beneath his nails.

"Shh—shh. Not here, eh? Not—ah—not now." 

He wants to peel back the point of that silvered mask; to drown in those eyes, blue as the tainted Heavens. Wants to feel his teeth on his neck. 

"Not—" 

His fingertips stipple over Omega's shirt—and tug. 

A switch flipped. A permission devoured.

That clawed hand plummets. Melts his breath to liquid. Sparks an addiction without a goddamned cure.

The first line crossed of countless. 

(Countless more, now, and countless still—until Nihil Nihil always Nihil—

Don't think I don't know what you're doing. All the mages can damnwell smell it on you.

Terzo, fox-grinned, steel in his eyes: And?)

And maybe that's all it had started as. All it had ever been.

A middle finger jabbed in the face of their All-Father's millennium-soaked paranoia. 

A foolish, spiteful clinging to a promise he'd already stripped from himself.

(If nothing else—even if the world burns—you can still have me. And I can still have you.

I can still have you. Can't I?)

So he'd thought.

Papa, now—and the world's a stage, burning, purple-bleeding-black, a stranger's hands combing through sweat-dampened hair on sheets that don't smell like him, and he shouldn't want it to. Saints, he shouldn't want it to.

But he's tired. His head is spinning. He's lonely. 

"Papa?"

He brushes a callused thumb over their temple. "Shh—shh. Not here, mh?" His fingertips glide over the glitter at their back: splay a slow touch between their shoulders. "Not right now," he rumbles, eyes closed. Their hair tickles his mouth. "Not..."

Sometimes, these curious souls press, prod. Try to dig beneath the points of his own mask: to look for the man tucked away in the corner, that doesn't want to speak, to open his eyes from the lull they've found themselves in. Not yet.

This one doesn't.

After a long moment, Terzo sighs: a buoy their body floats on, weighs down like a blanket of sunlight, like lead. "How are you feeling, darling?" The words come lazy and low, tucked into the soft space behind their ear.

The breath he's given in response is boneless, satiated. "Good," they whisper.

He hums. "Good." His thumb skims over their temple, again. "Very good."

Another performance due, soon. Another mass; another ritual. The robes shaken off the floor, the paints reapplied, the stage a handful of moments without deafened expectation.

(Why do you care what he thinks? Omega had snuffed at him once, lounged out like a god in their dressing room.

Terzo hadn't been able to say it, then. Still couldn't, now. 

That one day, his father's passive threat of this ghoul's banishment would come to fruition—one day, his reign would fall—one day, the only ones left would be the rat, and Sister, that old, bullish bastard, and he—

Satan. He'd always loved him, hadn't he?

Why do you care?

The doomed light at the end of the tunnel.

He'd twitched a half-painted smile. Looked away. Don't you know?)

"Terzo?"

He blinks. Dredges himself out of the paths of his own mind: focuses instead on the moon-silvered river of this priestess's fringe. Heat is still beaded between them, tacky where their hands shift. There's a trace of perfumed oil on their neck. 

He noses further into it, lays down a kiss. "Mnh?"

Their fingers slide unhurriedly through his hair. Weave a gentle knot—and tug.

A switch flipped. A permission devoured.

He lays down another kiss, and another. Their breath melts to liquid beneath his hands. Sparks an addiction without a cure.

"Please," they hush. "Don't leave yet, please—"

His lips catch at the veins that flutter through their throat. His palms lost in the valleys of their waist. "I won't."

The touch of their mouth feels like love, almost. A flicker of soft lashes, bumped noses, lungs haggard and starved.

Their fingers scrape at his shoulders. Cling, and claw, and beg.

Against their lips, he gravels it again. "I won't."

Another line crossed of countless. 

[gauldheri]

Next on his list was… Sylvain! Ooh this was gonna be a fun one! He was one of the easier friends to buy for, Ewan figured. It wasn’t hard to find him- he was in their classroom! “Hey, Sylvain! Happy winter festival!” He called out to his fellow red-head. “Hope you’ve got room for a present, because I got you one! Hehe.”

He pulled out a black box with a red ribbon out of his bag, handing it to Sylvain. Inside was two things: a fancy looking hand mirror, perfect in case Sylvain needed to look at himself on the go. The second gift was a small jar with a sparkly powder. “This is warp powder! Not the super powerful stuff, but If you’re ever in a hairy situation, you can use it to poof yourself out of there! You’ll reappear a little ways further off!” He explained. Ewan imagined it would come in handy in case he ever had to handle some nasty criminals, but Sylvain could probably use it too to avoid the wrath of the feminine kind….

Sylvain finds himself entirely caught off guard. The Winter Festival had never been something to celebrate, really. Just another frozen day in Faerghus' northern tundra, stuck making pleasantries with his horrifically dysfunctional family. Wonderful. It had never been worth the effort. He might exchange cards with Ingrid, buy his mother a gift in an attempt to play the dutiful son. Beyond that it was a holiday he'd rather forget about.

So he's naturally completely unprepared for one of his new classmates to offer him a gift. Usually glib and garrulous Sylvain finds himself, momentarily at least, silenced.

It hadn't even occurred to him that Ewan might consider him a friend, but the box on his hands certainly suggests such a thing. The contents don't matter - he is trying to listen to Ewan's speech but finds himself distracted. Friends, huh? Sylvain had no expectations of making new friends at Garreg Mach, didn't need any more. Had plenty enough people to care about already. Yet he finds himself accepting the gift, quiet and pensive. He wants to be Ewan's friend. Strange, how such a simple gesture could evoke such a powerful response.

"Thanks, Ewan. It means a lot but--" guilt's cold fingers squeeze his gut. He hadn't even thought to do such a thing for the mage. Had nothing to offer in return, no token of friendship of his own. Woefully underprepared, Sylvain's hand reaches to the back of his neck sheepishly. "I didn't get any gifts. Don't really celebrate to be honest."

Does he always sound so selfish? He needs something.

"Tell you what, let's go out tonight! Guys night, on me. I promise to be on my best behaviour. How about it?"

[dr-dendritic-trees]

Dooo iiiiittt! Joooiiin meee!

Yeah, I think Varice's family must be, at minimum, very dysfunctional, for her to think that the way Ozorne's family treat him is good and fine, but really, its probably worse than that.

I like this Baker AU. I'm still puzzling out how I'm going to fit her into my new AU, because I could write her a couple of ways, but I think I'm leaning towards the exact dynamic you describe.

Varice's family wants her to become a military alchemist, she wants to be a baker.

Ozorne's family have to convince the whole political structure that they've washed their hands of him (because nobility can't be, or control, warlocks), but actually still want to be in control of him

Arram comes from one of the nicer parts of the other half of the setting and is trying really hard to be open minded but is actually just like "Are you guys Okay?? Do you need like... refugee status or something, because I technically can do that?" (I have so many thoughts about how Arram's particular brand of obliviousness about his own power translates to a setting where powerful mages are titled by default).

Really really really with the Venn Diagram of Melissa Caruso fans and Tamora Pierce fans wasn't literally just, my blog.

Because my AUs are eating my brain without ever actually coming together.

@mihrsuri I specifically feel like your Varice opinions on AU would be more interesting than mine.

[dontgofarfromme]

I really love the Briarwoods bc the whole 'we are evil but have the most supportive marriage ever' trope is so fucking funny to me. Like they have everyone else beat into the ground in the competition for healthy relationships. Silas is frankly appalled at the fact that your father refuses to make dinner himself, he can't even eat normal food and they have cooks but he's still on top of this. Delilah is adamant that frequent clear communication is key especially when you're a powerful mage and need to establish beforehand that in the event of ur husband's death he would, in fact, like you to pull out all the stops to bring him back. They go on monthly weekend getaways to relax and torment random peasants in obscure villages. Silas attends all of Delilah evil mage conferences as her date even though he doesn't understand anything they're talking about, because it's important to be engaged in your partner's interests. Delilah became nocturnal for him because sometimes marriage takes compromise, and it only improved her overall aesthetic in the end. They're pressuring you onto going to marriage counseling as they murder your whole family. They wrote a book about keeping the spark in your relationship (even once you're settled down in your usurped kingdom and are no longer traveling around carrying out coups, love is still so exciting if you put in the work!). Your parents and their dysfunctional relationship are quaking in their boots.

[carnivalls]

— bio.

dollar store greek, currently studying in the uk 🚬

writer of dark fantasy and character-centric narratives. alternatively, everything involving unhealthy devotion and loss of identity/autonomy.

my redbubble

second person pov superiority >>>

— main wip.

GOOD INTENTIONS.

genre: new adult dark fantasy

features/themes: greek-inspired fantasy setting, low empathy love interest, state-sponsored codependence, a religion built around dysfunctional family dynamics, anger as catharsis, your least favorite toxic homoerotic formative female friendship, incredibly normal ways of handling grief and guilt, body horror, emotional (and some physical) incest, lgbt characters

summary:

As a Core, Hespera 'Hess' of Nefele has made a home in being hated.

She knows her lines by heart: she's unpredictable, dangerous, with too much magic coursing through her veins and no control over when or how it rises to the surface. She's been memorizing them for sixteen years now, and fashioning the world's fear of her as a guide on how to be.

So when a horrifying new institute threatens to undo all her efforts, siphoning her magic away from her and into a form more useful to society, Hess knows she needs to do something– before her hard-earned identity is erased altogether, and she's turned into some rich kid's magical battery for good.

As a Mage, Juve Mizani would love to see what 'something' looks like.

Being enrolled at the first-of-its-kind Institute for Attunement, with the aim of drawing the raw power out of Cores to be shaped by an artificially created class of magic-users entitled Mages, Juve should be delighted– both at ushering in a new era for magical relations, and at living her dream of leaving her stifling home town.

But this dream isn't technically hers to live, and Juve finds her own interests a lot more caught on the angry Core girl she's been partnered with: the one who refuses to lend her her magic, and will do anything to bolt for the door.

Attuned, it's push and pull– can pride be put aside long enough to accept help? Can it be called 'help', if it hides another face? And how do you know you've gone too far, when you want someone to hate you?

—

MORE TBA.

[acacia-may]

Breaking the Cycle

A Family Bonding, Emotional Healing, and Hurt/Comfort fic for my favourite spatial mage boys, Finral and Langris, in a brighter future where they actually get along with each other (Let's hope we make it there one day!) 😊Thank you for reading!! 

Description:  Were you scared, Uncle Langris? When you got your magic? It isn't a time that Langris likes to think about, let alone talk about, but when Finral comes to him for help and advice after his daughter presents with an extremely powerful offensive spatial magic, Langris is forced to confront memories he would rather forget in order to comfort his niece and help his brother be better than their parents ever were. The cycle stops with them.

Rating: T for Langris and Finral's childhood trauma: both implied and depicted in a flashback. 

Warnings:  Implied/Referenced Past Child Abuse (also, briefly depicted in a flashback). Emotional/Psychological Child Abuse. Dysfunctional Family and Childhood Trauma. However, the point of the story is healing from the abuse & childhood trauma and building a better future, so the past isn’t dwelled upon.

Fandom: Black Clover 

Genre: Family Hurt/Comfort. Langris and Finral's rebuild their brotherly relationship, heal from their childhood trauma and become a wonderful uncle and father, respectively. 

Characters: Langris Vaude, Finral Roulacase, Original Child Character (Narah)

No clear/explicitly stated pairings (There is a line about Finral being married but it doesn't say to whom as that isn't what the story is about so you can "choose your own adventure" and fill that bit in as you see fit). 

Word Count: 4,171

Link to original post on AO3.

Story Under the Cut: 

“Langris!” greeted Finral with a wave as he popped into the study through a portal in the wall.

Langris huffed but didn’t look up from his report. “Just because you can portal in here any time you want doesn’t mean that you should.”

“Sorry,” answered his brother sheepishly scratching the back of his neck. “I tried knocking on the front door, but no one answered.”

Langris sighed. He vaguely remembered hearing a faint pounding sound earlier but had been too focused on his paperwork to pay too much attention to it. He blinked. “What do you want?” he huffed, almost certain he would regret asking. “I’m busy,” he added for good measure.

“I really need to talk to you,” said Finral hurriedly. “It’s important. You see back at home…”

“Finral,” Langris interrupted. “I don’t have time to deal with your marriage problems or…whatever it is, right now.”

“You think I’m having marriage problems?” Finral gasped genuinely concerned and hurt as he stared back at Langris with wide, sad eyes like some kind of wounded puppy.

“How should I know? It’s none of my business,” huffed Langris instantly regretting bringing it up.

“Well…why would you say that? Do you think that things aren’t okay? Because—”

“Can this wait? I don’t have time for this!” he snapped irritably before taking a deep breath to collect himself. He shook his head and continued more calmly, “Look, this report is due tomorrow so if this isn’t an emergency…”

“It’s only going to take ten minutes,” Finral insisted. Langris rolled his eyes, and Finral held out his hand correcting, “Five minutes.” Langris sighed, and his eyes narrowed. The last time Finral had insisted something was only going to take five minutes, Langris had ended up stranded in Nean on a day-long shopping excursion. It was not an experience he wanted to repeat.

“Narah’s magic presented today—or at least this was the first time she used it,” Finral continued as if he was taking Langris’ silence as permission.

“That’s great, Finral,” he answered returning to his report with a shake of his head. Not that he was trying to be dismissive of his niece presenting her powers, but he had a lot on his plate right now and his brother clearly couldn’t prioritize. “But that’s not an emergency.”

“She made a giant hole in the wall.”

Langris stopped writing and looked up from his paper. “What?”

“Yeah…” Finral cleared his throat and chuckled lightly. “Broke all the way through brick to the outside. It kind of reminded me of when you first used your powers. You completely destroyed that gazebo, remember?”

Langris’ chest tightened, but he swallowed and answered curtly, “I remember.”

“I wasn’t expecting her to have offensive spatial magic like you—or for it to be that powerful already. Once the shock wore off, I called some of my friends to help patch up the wall before it gets dark, but…it really is something! You should come see.”

“Maybe later,” answered Langris returning to his report. He supposed Finral’s daughter presenting a powerful offensive spatial magic was newsworthy and the gaping hole in the wall was a pressing issue but as it was being attended to, this wasn’t Langris’ emergency.

“Are you sure you couldn’t come for just five minutes?” asked his brother. He was fidgety—almost nervous. Langris blinked at him but shook his head.

“I don’t have to see the wall to believe you,” he said matter-of-factly. “I’ll admit it’s unexpected but given the strong link in magic ability between family members, it’s not completely unheard of.”

“That’s not…” Finral began but stopped abruptly. “Um…well…I didn’t just want you to see the wall…”

“I’m sure your friends can handle patching it up without me,” he answered picking up his pen again. “I don’t have time for…”

“Langris, she’s scared!” his brother cut him off empathically gesturing with his hands.

“Who?”

“Narah. After she saw what she did to our house, she started to cry, and she hasn’t stopped crying since. I’ve tried everything but nothing I say helps! She’s terrified,” he explained with a concerned worry and almost desperation in his voice. “I thought…you might be able to get through to her.”

Putting down his pen, Langris turned to his brother, but he insisted, “I’m not sure I can say anything that you haven’t already.” He didn’t feel he needed to add that he wasn’t very good with children and his callous and curt demeanor was particularly ill-suited for these kinds of situations.

“Langris, I have no idea what using offensive spatial magic is like. I spent most of my life afraid of it, and I couldn’t even wield it. To have something so destructive just burst out of you like that—that has to be terrifying…” As his brother’s voice trailed, Langris stared down at his report. Something twisted deep in his stomach, but he pushed it away.

“Fine,” he conceded. “I’ll talk to her.”

___________________________________________________________

As Langris exited the portal into Finral’s living room, he almost gasped but caught himself. Finral was not exaggerating—if anything, he was downplaying the level of destruction. It wasn’t just a hole in the wall; it was as if the entire wall itself had been removed. Out of the corner of his eyes, Langris could see that Asta, Magna, and Luck were hard at work fixing the brickwork from the outside, but they had barely even made a dent in it. It was hard to believe a child so young who had never even used her magic before was capable of something like this. If Langris was being honest, it was actually kind of impressive.

“Henry’s supposed to be coming over later to help, too,” said Finral. His tone was cautiously optimistic despite the concern in his face. “We’re not sure if he’ll be able to do anything since this isn’t his house, but with his recombination magic, it’s worth a try, right?”

Langris had always been a bad liar and knew now was not the time to be blunt with his brother who was juggling both a crying child and crumbling house so he refrained from saying anything as Finral led him up a nearby staircase. The wooden planks creaked with every step they took up to the second floor, and when they reached the landing, Finral turned back to Langris.

“She’s been hiding in her room since this morning,” he said before knocking on a door in the hallway that was decorated with colorful paper flowers. The corners of Langris’ mouth twitched just slightly. His niece had given him some matching flowers about a month ago, and though he probably wouldn’t admit it—at least not to Finral, they were still in the top drawer of his desk.

“Narah? Narah, sweetheart, are you in there?” No answer. “Narah, your Uncle Langris is here to see you. Can we come in?” Again, no answer. Finral chuckled lightly and turned to Langris before knocking on the door again. “We’re going to come in, okay? Narah—?” Finral opened the door into his daughter’s room, and they walked inside.

Langris didn’t spend a lot of time with children, but he supposed it looked as you’d expect the room of a typical six-year-old girl to look—bright and colorful with lots of drawings, crafts, dolls, and toys. There was even a small table and chairs with a lily-patterned tea set that he knew was from Finnes. The only thing missing was the little girl who lived here.

“Narah? Narah?” called Finral. After waiting for a few moments, he shook his head. “She was up here when I left. Maybe she went downstairs? I’ll go check. I’ll be right back…” he said before portal-ing away.

Sighing, Langris gave the room another once-over and picked up a somewhat-frightening looking doll, he assumed must be from Gordon, which had fallen or been left on the floor. As he placed it on one of the chairs, he caught sight of the corner of a quilt on the ground. It was beautifully and intricately embroidered with flowers—definitely Vanessa’s work. He took a few steps towards it, watching it rustling before it completely disappeared under the bed-skirt.

“You can come out now. It’s just me,” said Langris in an even, gentle voice. He didn’t believe in talking down to children, but he didn’t want to sound harsh either.

“How did you know I was hiding?” asked a quiet voice from under the bed.  

Langris sighed and took a seat in one of the chairs in front of a perfectly laid out tea setting. “I saw your quilt.” It seemed like the easiest answer. “Also, your dad always used to hide under the bed when we were growing up.”

The bed-skirt rustled, but his niece didn’t come out from her hiding place. “Really?” asked Narah curiously. “From monsters?”

Something twisted in Langris’ chest, and he looked away even though he knew his niece couldn’t see him. “You could say that…” He paused. “He was also afraid of thunderstorms.”

“I’m afraid of thunderstorms,” she admitted shyly.

“It’s sunny right now,” said Langris matter-of-factly, glancing out the window. “And there are no monsters.”

“I…I’m not hiding because of thunderstorms…or monsters…” Narah sighed. “Did you see the hole in the wall?”

“Yes,” he answered. “That’s some really powerful magic you have there.”

His observation was met with silence followed by an apologetic, “I didn’t mean to…We were just sitting down for breakfast, and there was a mouse, and Dad screamed. It was scary. I just wanted it to go away.”

Langris resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the thought of Finral screaming about a mouse. No wonder his daughter was frightened.

“Everyone was really scared when I broke the wall,” Narah continued. “I don’t know what happened…” She paused. “Dad says I have magic like you.”

Langris nodded even though he realized afterward that his niece couldn’t see him. “That’s right. It’s offensive spatial magic. Your dad was the first person in the history of our family not to have it. It must’ve just skipped a generation to be passed down to you,” Langris replied in a somewhat curt, practical way, but his face softened at the sound of quiet crying noises coming from under the bed. “Narah?”

“I don’t want it. It’s so scary,” she cried in a mix of a sob and a hiccup—a truly pitiful sound that would’ve broken anyone’s heart—even Langris’. Something twinged deep inside him at her words, and his chest constricted.

“It’s…” he began, but he had to admit he didn’t know what to say. “It’s okay to be scared,” he said stiffly, awkwardly. The words felt unnatural, and Langris knew it sounded pretty pathetic. Besides, he was sure Finral had probably said the same thing a hundred times, and it hadn’t worked. Why did his brother think it was a good idea to leave this to him? He glanced over at the open door hoping Finral would come back, but he didn’t see him in the doorway or out in the hall.

Langris was mentally cursing his brother for leaving him to handle this when the quiet voice of his niece pulled him out of his thoughts. “Were you scared?”

“What?” asked Langris genuinely taken aback by her question.

“Were you scared, Uncle Langris?” she repeated. “When you got your magic?”

Langris swallowed hard, and his chest grew tight as if all the air was being squeezed out of him. It was not a time he ever liked to think about, let alone talk about. But even now, after all this time, he could call it to mind as vividly as if he was still there…  

___________________________________________________________

“What was that, you pathetic weakling? Disgraceful.”

Langris flinched even though he knew his father’s harsh words weren’t directed at him…at least not yet.

“I’m…I’m sorry…” Finral sniffled staring at the ground as the tiny spatial portal he had made flickered in front of him. “I’m trying…”

“Stop your sniveling apologies,” snapped their father—hard lines forming on his face and a cold, stony expression in his eyes that was so threatening Langris could barely bring himself to look at him.

“The Noble House of Vaude has produced the premiere spatial mages of the Clover Kingdom for centuries,” their father continued, towering over Finral intimidatingly and glaring at him with a look that lingered ominously like a heavy, dark cloud before a thunderstorm. Langris swallowed hard and something twisted in his stomach. “This worthless excuse for magic is an embarrassment to this family.”

Turning away abruptly with a sharp wince, Langris shut his eyes. He swallowed hard as he felt his mother’s hand on his shoulder. When he turned to look at her, her face said what it always did: you have to do better. He knew this—had known it ever since Finral had presented with a magic power that only brought their parents shame, frustration, and disappointment—the only problem was he didn’t know if he could. He stayed awake at night hiding under the covers and trying to make the type of portals that his parents wanted but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t use magic of any kind. He wasn’t sure which would be worse: having magic like Finral’s or having no magic at all. He didn’t want to find out.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…” Finral apologized again. His shoulders were trembling as his wavering voice grew softer, smaller. Langris’ hands began to shake as he watched the tears well up in his brother’s eyes. “I…I just don’t want to hurt anybody…”

“Useless coward! You’re a disgrace to this House,” bellowed their father. He huffed. “The humiliation—one son with such worthless magic and another who hasn’t shown any ability at all…” Feeling his father’s attention falling on him, Langris shuddered and recoiled. His insides were twisting, and he was torn between desperately wanting to run away and hide and being unable to move.

“Langris is still very young,” intervened his mother. “I’m sure he’ll present with a very powerful magic any day now.” Langris stared down at the ground under the weight of his mother’s tightened grip and pointed stare which warned louder than any words: you had better.

Langris’ toes curled up tightly in his shoes. He felt like he was going to be sick.

Finral turned to look at him with teary eyes, but he tried to smile at him slightly. “Let me try again…” he said wiping his eyes and taking a step nearer to Langris, stepping in between him and their parents, before trying to make another portal. It shined and shimmered in front of him before flickering and disintegrating. Langris had always thought it was remarkable that his brother could make something like that, when all Langris could ever do was stare at his empty hands desperately willing the appearance of portals that never came. Their parents, however, were always unimpressed.

“Pathetic,” scoffed their mother.

Their father frowned irately before shaking his head. “They’re getting even worse. Utterly worthless. You don’t deserve to call yourself a Vaude.”

Finral hunched over—seemingly curling into himself, and his eyes welled with tears again as he choked out a barely audible apology. “I’m sorry…”

“You incompetent good-for-nothing!” Their father glared at him. “And now you’re crying?” he scoffed in incredulous disdain at the tears that streamed down Finral’s cheeks. “As if it isn’t your fault that you’re wielding such ineffectual magic, you blubbering idiot.”

Finral sniffled and tried to wipe his eyes apologizing profusely, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry…I’m trying…I just can’t—” Whack. Langris flinched at the horrible slapping sound of his father’s hand striking Finral’s face and his brother’s painful whimpering.

“I told you to stop your whining and excuses!” their father thundered. Langris clinched his trembling hands into fists. His chest felt tight and heavy. Stop it. Make it stop. He desperately pleaded internally to someone…anyone…as tears poured down Finral’s face and he frantically and hopelessly tried to wipe them away as their father raised his hand again.

Langris’ heart beat faster and faster and his stomach warped and coiled into knots—a weight building up inside him too heavy for him to bear. His knees buckled, and he un-clinched his fists. Stop it. Stop! St…

Crash. Boom. Thud. A bright burst of blue collided with the nearby gazebo sending pieces of wooden debris flying. The world seemed to stop as the roof caved in and the structure collapsed on itself.

“Woah…” whispered Finral with wide eyes, but their parents were stunned into silence. Tears prickled in Langris’s eyes, and his heart was pounding so rapidly he was sure it was going to beat out of his chest. His whole body trembled as his father turned towards him, and he shut his eyes tightly flinching in anticipation of his father’s rage.

“That is spatial magic worthy of House Vaude,” said his father. His head reeling, Langris opened one eye in blinking disbelief.

“What wonderful power, Langris!” his mother exclaimed placing a hand on his head.

Langris blinked at them. Was this it? Was this the magic his parents so desperately wanted—the magic that somehow he possessed? It almost seemed too good to be true.

“I…the gazebo…” Langris began quietly and apologetically still completely bewildered by his parents’ reaction.

“We’ll have the servants clean it up,” answered his father dismissively before he turned his attention away from Langris to his brother. “Finral,” he began, and Finral looked up almost hopeful but his face fell immediately as his father said, “You would do well to wield your magic like Langris. You wouldn’t want the shame of being shown up by your younger brother again, would you?”

Finral stared at the ground and shuffled his feet as their father walked back into the house. His face looked so sad and dejected.

“Come along, Langris,” said his mother leading him off by the arm. “You have a lot of practicing to do. If you can prove that you’re a better mage than this weakling, all of this may be yours one day…” All mine? he wondered. Her words didn’t make sense to him. His father had always made it clear that he was the spare child, the extra. Finral was the one who got the attention as the eldest, the heir to their house, and Langris was just fading, disappearing, in in the background. But now…now, his father had seen him—had even praised him. If he learned how to use this power—if he was the best—would he finally be enough?

The sound of Finral sniffling and whimpering quietly to himself caught his attention, and Langris turned back to his brother one last time watching as a single, glistening tear cascaded down his red, swollen cheek before he followed his mother into the house.

___________________________________________________________

Were you scared, Uncle Langris? His niece’s question repeated in his mind, and Langris swallowed hard, forced to admit the truth to himself: of course, he was scared—how could he not be? Life at House Vaude was a delicate balance that he had spent every waking moment terrified of upsetting—terrified of failing to live up to his parents’ expectations, of stumbling on the tightrope of perfection, of making a mistake. Because he knew—he had always known—that he was expendable, a contingency, and the minute he put one toe out of line, the minute he wasn’t the perfect son, wasn’t useful to his mother and father anymore, he would be berated and discarded just like Finral—slipping into oblivion until he would completely disappear. The burden of this had always weighed so heavily on him—a constant terror and unease that he could never fully escape—that even now, years later, he felt it twisting and gnawing in the pit of his stomach. He had never stopped being afraid.

“Yes,” he confessed quietly to his niece. “I was scared.” He paused, but his face softened as he reassured her. “But you don’t have to be. You have so many people who love you no matter what kind of magic you have or what you do with it.”

There was a long pause after which Narah began very quietly, “Do you…do you think Dad is upset I don’t have magic like him?”

Langris shook his head. “No. Not at all. I don’t even think he’s mad about the wall.”  

“Really?” asked Narah sniffling, and Langris nodded.

“Mhm,” he hummed curtly.

“I…I don’t know why I don’t…don’t have magic like his…” Narah cried—her wavering voice soft and constricted. “He says that his magic is like that because he doesn’t want to hurt anybody. I don’t want to hurt anybody either so I don’t…I don’t know why…”

Her words got choked up in a sob that sounded so much like Finral’s at that age. Langris could almost hear his painful whimpering in response to their father’s cruelty—could almost see the tears in his eyes as he tried to smile for him in the face of so much suffering, as he stepped in between him and their parents, before that incredible power had burst out of Langris for the first time.

“Maybe you have something you want to protect…”

Langris heard a very quiet gasp from under the bed and after a short pause, Narah asked in a voice that was no longer weepy, “Like with the mouse?”

“Yes, just like that. You were scared and wanted to protect your family from the mouse, didn’t you? You didn’t mean to hit the wall,” answered Langris. “You don’t have to use your magic to hurt people—you don’t even have to use it at all. But you can learn to control it, and when you do, I know you’ll be a powerful mage and would be a great Magic Knight if you want to be one. Then you can use your power to defend the Kingdom and protect the people you care about. It doesn’t just have to destroy.” Langris sighed and continued gently, “But even if it does…even if you accidentally break down a hundred more walls, there is nothing that could stop your family from loving you. Your dad especially” —he rolled his eyes almost-affectionately—“He was so worried about you that he even came to get me to help. I don’t know what he was thinking…”

Langris chuckled dryly, almost teasingly, but at his words there was a swift rustling sound and his niece bolted out from under the bed and wrapped her arms around him. Langris gasped quietly in surprise as he awkwardly draped an arm around her and gave her a pat on the back.

“You helped a lot, Uncle Langris. Thank you,” she said as she stared back at him with a wide, kind smile that looked just like her dad’s. Langris’ face softened, and the corners of his mouth twitched just barely into a slight smile.

“Narah!” exclaimed Finral appearing frazzled in the doorway, as if he somehow knew Langris had been thinking of him. “There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

“Dad!” she cried before running towards him and throwing her arms around him. “I’m so sorry!”

“It’s okay. It’s okay. You don’t have to be sorry,” he gently reassured her—patting her back comfortingly as they hugged each other.

After he gently kissed the top of his daughter's head, Finral mouthed an extremely grateful and tearful, Thank you!, to Langris over Narah’s shoulder, but Langris shrugged it off. He shook his head with a slight roll of his eyes—his dumb brother had tears in his eyes and was blubbering more than his daughter—but even Langris had to admit there was something genuinely moving about the scene and almost gratifying when the thought, if only Father and Mother could see us now, passed through his head.

Langris' mouth twitched into a smile. Somehow despite their parents’ absolute best efforts to turn them into equally corrupt, heartless clones of themselves—as Langris could only imagine that every generation of Vaudes had done to their children in a vicious cycle of cruelty and suffering—they had failed in possibly the most epic fashion imaginable. Sure, neither of Finral or Langris were perfect by any means, but they were better—and they were trying to be better—and that was enough. The cycle stopped with them.

Finral wiped his eyes and held out a hand to Langris. “Would you like to stay for dinner?” he asked with a kind smile.

“I have paperwork…” Langris insisted curtly, but his niece slipped her tiny hand into his and looked up at him with big, pleading eyes.

“Please, Uncle Langris?”

Langris sighed. She had eyes like her father’s too. The thought almost made him smile just barely in spite of himself.

“Alright,” he conceded as his brother and his niece led him down the stairs, and it wasn’t long until his report was completely forgotten.

Fin

[we-are-a-dragon]

DM: I want to start the session off with something new I saw recently, which is called Dad Facts. You each share something that your character would have at some point told the group, perhaps around the campfire or while travelling. Things we wouldn't normally get deep enough into roleplaying to bring out, but that may help your relationships. Would you like a prompt for the first one?

Adam (playing Billie): Yes, a prompt would be good.

DM: Okay, there's a list. 'How does your character feel about the character to your right?'

Tati (playing Seraph): I thought they're supposed to be in-character.

DM: Hm, yeah, that one's not quite right. Well, let's go with it, and we can do a proper one next week. Thaddeus?

Hamish (playing Thaddeus): Er... Thaddeus looks on Kjell kind of as the son he never had. He's proud of him and wants to protect him.

M (playing Kjell): That's really sweet, since Kjell kind of looks on Thaddeus as a better father figure than his own dad. Alright, Una... Kjell doesn't really have a strong opinion about Una. They're companions, but not close.

Andy (playing Una): Yeah, they haven't really interacted that much. Una doesn't really understand how Seraph got so powerful.

Tati (playing Seraph): Is that Una not getting Seraph, or you calling out my backstory?

Andy: A bit of both, I guess? It doesn't make sense for a fifteen year old to be more powerful than some of us.

Tati: *confused* She's a sorcerer. They just get power for free.

Hamish: Yeah, that's literally sorcerers' whole deal. Cheat mages.

Andy: Oh, okay. Well, Una doesn't get that and is a little intimidated by Seraph. She's nervous of pissing her off.

Tati: Lol. Seraph is... don't take this the wrong way... Kind of frustrated by Godric a lot of the time.

Marijn (playing Godric): *laughs*

Tati: *quickly* Frustrated by his recklessness. It makes her very nervous, she feels like Godric regularly endangers the party with his chaotic nature. At the same time, she admires the fearlessness and self-assuredness that makes him that way.

Marijn: Godric's not very self-assured at all.

Tati: *shrugs* He seems that way to Seraph.

Marijn: I'm sure he'd love to hear that. Uh... Godric is sad about Billie.

Adam (playing Billie): Aw!

Marijn: They used to be really close and they'd be hyper-chaotic together, and with Hanako too, but since Godric's been trying to be a better person he's been spending a lot of time hanging around Thaddeus to I guess, pick up how to be good?

Adam: *snorts* Ouch. Aw, I miss that too. Okay, Billie feels... safe with Thaddeus. He's like the dad of the group. He's comforting.

Hamish: He really is the dad of the group.

DM: One big, dysfunctional family. Good work, you guys.