#bolt ( paladins )

[rouxipanda]

S' been a while since I last drew those guys.

Can you believe I wouldn't be where I am today if it wasn't for those 2 idiots ? hah

Also, progreesssss

[theskyexists]

Bashasha is a great character. Damn. He's kind he's a great leader he's affable he's steel he's loved and he's very smart he's energetic he's got humour he's committed to whatever he can manage to do

He's also so self-controlled but I think that's grief. And a certain kind of grief that has had time to be shaped by a persistent sense of helplessness and fury and then he got pushed over the edge when he lost his sister. He is truly operating under 'there is nothing more to lose' mindset. I understand that deeply

[boltlightning]

muscling my way through honor mode again for some reason. cleared act 2 tonight. look at my beautiful boy. look

[b1gwings]

swashbuckler rogue my beloved

[clanoffelidae]

How to politely ask my group’s cleric to stop trying to play dps with her spells slots and to save them for healing because everyone else in our party is dps and I, the paladin, am currently having to play tank, healer (for myself mostly, shock and awe), and try to get some melee dps in on the side and it would be a lot less stressful if I knew I could count on her to get me back up after getting downed but I cannot

[kodocell]

Line 'em up, boy, we don't got all day

[Character: Ajax (He/They)]

Image ID under the cut!

A person with a dark brown mullet, tan skin, and a vibrant gold eye points a finger gun towards the viewer. Their left eye is squinted closed as they aim, at their finger tips a bright flair of solar-like energy from his guiding bolt just moments before casting. /end ID

[lincolndjarin]

Best Kept Secret ☆

A MANDALORIAN SERIES MASTERLIST

[ COMPLETED ]

✩ a bodyguard!din x princess!reader fic ✩

series summary :

Married off to a prince on a planet that you hate? New husband doesn't know you, and doesn't want to know you? New husband gifts you a personal Mandalorian body guard as a wedding present? Mandalorian is a wiseass who won't leave you alone? Lucky you.

18+ mdni

do you like kitschy, campy romance novels? if you're reading this, I hope so.

behind the scenes & chapter notes + other extras (spoilers) :

chapters 1-5

chapter 6-15

spotify playlists

Lysa & Elaine information

the bks screen adaption

bks q&a

bks what if's

reader is generally not described past being picked up a few times, and having hair long enough to be put up

✩ chapters containing smut!

chapter one : honeymoon (6.7k words)

[ Absurd.

That is the only word that comes to mind as you stare at yourself in the mirror. “His favorite color is blue.” ]

chapter two : silent treatment (7.4k words)

[ Something is wrong. You bolt up from the pile of blankets that you call a bed and your eyes dart around the closet as you furrow your brow trying to discern why you feel so much different. ]

✩ chapter three : the smitten paladin (4.6k words)

[ You’re starting to think the planet isn’t the reason you’re so hot all the time.

You had woken up this morning feeling a bit better than you thought you’d be, your stomach is full of butterflies but you're still standing and considering the night you had you’re gonna take that as a win. ]

chapter four : sarad'ika (6.8k words)

[ Sarad'ika. 

You won’t forget it this time, you can’t. So you write it in your book, just under Mando’s favorite color you write the two little words that have been keeping you up at night. ]

✩ chapter five : lunar interlude : just a man (5.0k words)

[ Absurd.

It’s absurd how much the job pays. Din’s not even sure he should take it at this point because it’s too good to be true. ]

✩ chapter six : torment (5.1k words)

[ Okay, maybe you didn’t think this through. 

You didn’t think he’d actually come in and now suddenly the door is shut and you’re alone with him. ]

✩ chapter seven : just friends (3.1k words)

[ Maker it feels like it’s been an hour and you’re both just laying here. He was just inside of you; it shouldn't be so hard to find something to talk about at this point. ]

chapter eight : solar markets (5.3k words)

[ It’s nice to wake up excited again. 

You wish you could say that it happened more often but hopefully it will from now on. It’s going to be your first time leaving the castle grounds since you got here. ]

✩ chapter nine : shuk'la rules (5.6k words)

[ You need sex.

Normally you would be satisfied for quite some time after getting off but for some reason with Mando it was different. But it’s only been two days and you need more. ]

✩ chapter ten : lunar interlude : briikase gote'tuur (4.1k words)

[ He’s grateful for the break from you, even if brief. 

That’s not to say that he doesn’t enjoy every moment he gets to be in your presence but the more time he spends with you the harder it gets to remember that this isn’t real. ]

chapter eleven : he loves me not (4.6k words)

[ Something is wrong. 

All day it’s been wrong. 

He’s different. Distant. ]

chapter twelve : pretend (4.4k words )

[ Two days.

That’s what you’re willing to give yourself. Two days to get over it. One to get it all out of your system and one to pull yourself together. ]

chapter thirteen : lunar interlude : vercopa (3.5k words)

[ He did it.

He did exactly what he knew he needed to do.

So why does he feel worse than ever? ]

chapter fourteen : condemned (4.9k words)

[ You’re having trouble sleeping. 

You have no problem falling asleep, it’s mostly staying asleep. There’s a million different things that consume your thoughts and everytime you drift into unconsciousness you find yourself jolting awake, barely able to stay asleep for more than an hour at a time. ]

chapter fifteen : two tea parties (5.4k words)

[ “What did you do to her?”

Her voice breaks through his sleepy haze as he sits up properly. 

“Excuse me?” ]

chapter sixteen : absolution (4.6k words)

[ There’s a visceral sense of dread when you wake up, for several reasons. 

The glaring obvious culprit of your discomfort would be the fact that today’s your husband's birthday. ]

chapter seventeen : the apostate’s cabin (3.5k words)

[ Just Din. 

It’s sinking in as you walk in silence, holding his hand tightly as he pulls you towards his home. ]

chapter eighteen : portrait of a man (5.4k words)

[ It’s deliciously warm when you wake. You can feel his heartbeat and you can feel the soft traces of sunlight dancing along your back. You stretch in his arms slightly but freeze up as you feel him nuzzle his chin into your hair, planting a kiss against your hairline. ]

✩ chapter nineteen : reverence (7.3k words)

[ You really want to. 

You couldn’t possibly want to more than you currently do. 

It’s actually a bit mean. That he’s left you here in this state. ]

✩ chapter twenty : like real people do (8.4k words)

[ Mando and Din. 

All you can think about right now is how there must be two of them. 

You’re playing with his curls. ]

✩ chapter twenty one : te mirci't (9.0k words)

[ “It means I love you.” 

You aren’t entirely sure how long you stare at him, looking rather silly with your jaw practically on the floor. ]

✩ chapter twenty two : it’s you that i lie with (11.3k words)

[ Naboo has several trading ports. 

You could get him on a cargo ship. That would be the most inconspicuous form of transport. It would help if he was willing to ditch his armor. ]

✩ chapter twenty three : lunar markets (15.0k words)

[ Sneaking out of the castle gets easier every time you do it. 

It only takes a few minutes and you’re walking outside towards the forest trail, Din’s hand in yours, still giddy. ]

✩ chapter twenty four : lunar interlude : riduur (7.8k words)

[ He doesn’t deserve this.

How could he possibly be deserving of you? Yet somehow you make him feel as if he is. With your soft touch and the way your eyes get just a little bigger when you see him. ]

✩ chapter twenty five : wedding bells (11.7k words)

[ Four days of Leo. 

You were upset that Din was leaving you but you got over it rather quickly with the promise of his hasty return. ]

chapter twenty six : crucifixion (12.7k words)

[ “My room is too big.” 

He bursts into genuine peals of laughter and you gently smack his arm.

“Don’t laugh, it’s a serious issue! My room is enormous.” ]

chapter twenty seven : the apostate (6.0k words)

[ Silence.

That’s all there is in his brain. 

It’s hard enough as is for him to hear. It doesn’t help when he’s been beaten half to death. ]

✩ chapter twenty eight : a place for us (8.4k words)

[ You’d spent the better half of the day trying to get on top of him. 

Every time you managed to get close he’d simply set you down on the nearest surface with a kiss on the cheek and go back to doing whatever he was working on. ]

chapter twenty nine : the best kept secret (epilogue) (6.1k words)

[ The morning sun is warm against your face, you bask in it, unmoving and only half awake until you feel a tiny hand slapping your cheek. The illusion of tranquility is immediately shattered as you softly laugh. ]

[the-griffons-saddlebag]

⚔️ 𝗡𝗲𝘄 𝗶𝘁𝗲𝗺! Celestial Bident
Weapon (trident), legendary (requires attunement by a cleric or paladin) ___ This bident’s prongs are designed as celestial wings. A ball of pure light radiates between the wings, which sheds bright light in a 30-foot radius and dim light for an additional 30 feet. The light is sunlight. While holding the bident, you can use a bonus action to light or extinguish the ball. Alternatively, you can use an action to expand or reduce its radius of bright and dim light by 5 feet each, to a maximum of 40 feet each or a minimum of 10 feet each. If you’re attuned to the “celestial bident,” you are considered proficient with it. You gain a +2 bonus to attack and damage rolls made with this magic weapon, which deals an extra 1d6 radiant damage to any target it hits while the ball of pure light is present in the bident. Immediately after you make a ranged weapon attack with the bident, it flies back to your open hand. While holding the weapon, you also gain a +2 bonus to spell attack rolls. 𝘽𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙬 𝙇𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩. While the ball of light is present between the bident’s prongs, you can use an action to touch a creature with the bident and confer the light into them. The ball disappears within the creature for 8 hours. For the duration, the creature can’t be blinded, deafened, diseased, frightened, paralyzed, petrified, or poisoned. If the creature is already affected by such a condition, the effects are suppressed for the duration of this effect. The ball of light returns to the bident at the end of the 8 hours or when the creature is reduced to 0 hit points. If the creature is reduced to 0 hit points, the ball lifts from the creature’s body and returns to the bident, and the creature immediately regains 1 hit point. Once a creature has benefitted from this property, it can’t do so again for 24 hours. 𝙂𝙪𝙞𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝘽𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙣𝙩. While holding the weapon, you can use an action to cast the “guiding bolt” spell from it, using your spell attack bonus. When you do, the bolt appears as a duplicate of the bident made of pure light, and on a hit, any allied creature within 10 feet of the target gains 10 temporary hit points. ___ ✨ Patrons get huge perks! Access this and hundreds of other item cards, art files, and compendium entries when you support The Griffon's Saddlebag on Patreon for less than $10 a month!

[radioactive-reactions]

How would the companions react to discovering not only Vault 111 but also the frozen Sole Survivor

Whether they saw it as a potential treasure trove, a nostalgic relic, or just a safe, quiet refuge, Vault 111 always seemed to attract the odd scavenger or adventurer. After slipping past the door, however, this particular intruder would end up stumbling upon something far stranger than they could expect...

Cait hadn't really taken the time to scope out the Vault before diving into it headfirst- having a pack of feral dogs nipping at your heels will do that to you. Coming face to face with the frozen Sole Survivor down there is freaky enough to give her a heart attack, but as the perfect audience for her rambling stories and a nonjudgmental drinking buddy they soon become the centerpiece of her impromptu hideout. As for actually getting them out? Fuck if she knows how.

Codsworth knows full well what the Vault up the hill contains, of course. How could he not? Much of the aging robot's time is spent tending to his owners' pods: tightening every bolt, polishing the glass, keeping the steel casing free of even a single speck of rust. The only thing that keeps him going is the thought that on some level, under that thin layer of frost, they might know he's there for them.

Curie's unbridled excitement at making contact with another Vault is quickly tempered once she actually sets eyes on the denizens of said Vault. With nothing but time and centuries' worth of medical expertise to work with, she immediately sets to the task of bringing Vault 111 back to life- not just the Sole Survivor, but everyone consigned to a cold and inglorious fate in those cryopods. This is a mission worth spending another two hundred years on.

Danse has been assigned to scour the Vault as part of a routine sweep for useful technology- a task entirely beneath a Paladin, but what he finds there more than makes up for it. Immediately, a whole field research team is dispatched to the vault and the cryopods are airlifted out one by one. The Sole Survivor's first memory of the new world is waking up to the harsh white light of a Brotherhood lab, bombarded with questions and shoved blearily through a battery of tests. Not a great first impression.

Deacon still thinks the Vault would make an ideal fallback hideout, even with the rows of corpsicles. The eerie blue glow and residents in cryosleep are pitched to Desdemona as enhancing the ambience, but the suggestion is soundly denied for the Vault's visibility. Even so, Deacon maintains a post outside, just in case one of those poor bastards stumbles out one day.

When Hancock inexplicably wakes up in the Vault after partying a little too hard, he immediately assumes he's still hallucinating- that, or he's been picked up by Zetans. It takes him hours of trying to pry the Sole Survivor's pod open in a hungover haze to finally give up, writing the place off as another of the Old World's many sins and decent subject matter for his next speech.

MacCready almost feels at home in the vast underground chambers of the Vault. Almost. No matter how convenient the Vault is as a last-ditch hideout, its residents creep him out too much to stay there for any real length of time. He tries his hardest to avoid their frozen stares, endlessly grateful that it's them in there and not him.

Valentine relates to the frozen Sole Survivor a little more than he'd like to admit. Two abandoned relics, used to serve a greater purpose and then thrown out like so much junk when they were done. He knows more than anyone what a harsh awakening they're going to have- if they do wake up. Every so often, he'll wander back to check on them, sharing a yarn about his latest case and watching for any progress. On the day that pod does unseal, he'll be there to lend a helping hand... but until then, all he can do is maintain a file. It's one hell of a cold case.

Piper feels a little guilty that her first thought is how good of a story this will make. 'Pod people slumber among us', maybe? She doesn't want to risk the Sole Survivor's life by touching anything, but maybe if she spreads the word someone out there will be able to help them. That's how she justifies it to herself, anyway- now if only there was some concrete link to the Institute she could work in...

Preston has been surveying the area around Sanctuary for potential threats to the burgeoning settlement... and he still isn't entirely sure that this doesn't count as one. It takes a moment to line up the resident registry with the names on Sanctuary's rusted-out mailboxes, but once he does, he has the Vault sealed up again out of respect for those who came before. If he and his scant resources can't help them, he can at least let them rest in peace.

Strong hammers away at the pod to no avail before stomping off in a huff to seek his next victim somewhere else. Canned food clearly isn't his thing.

X6-88 is here for a routine checkup - nothing more, nothing less. Although the Director had been cagey about what exactly he wanted to be kept safe down here, there was nothing X6 wouldn't be prepared for... so he thought, at least. The sight of a person, frozen and contained, gives him a rare moment of pause and elicits an uncomfortable, involuntary comparison to the dormant synths rolling off the assembly line. Nevertheless, he makes sure the cryopod is still functional and returns home, all the while trying to forget their strange resemblance to the Director.

[zenless-zideblog-zero]

Girls night VS. Boys Night

Zhu-Yuan: *In a High speed chase with a vehicle*THIS IS PUBSEC! PULL YOUR VEHICLE OVER NOW!

Nicole: *in passenger seat Old Smokey, the car Zhu-yuan's chasing* Be careful! This thing hasn't been serviced in a good while!

Piper: *Driving* I can tell. These tires haven't been rotated in at least six years, and I can't begin to imagine how old the oil is. You should take better care of this old girl~

Belle: Less talk, More Speed!

Corin: Master Proxy, are we in trouble! If I get caught Victoria Housekeeping's reputation will be Ruined! WAH!

Belle: Corin, Sweetheart, please listen to me when I say Ellen and Lucy should have a distraction coming!

~~~~~

Wise: That's ... Twelve Ice Damage, and Nineteen Slashing damage.

Anton: Brometheus Fought the good fight! He believes his friends will save the world, even in his Death!

Wise: Stellar, Arctunoct the Frost-Bringer has just knocked your dear friend unconscious, and the Rituals Almost Complete! He give you the most vile, toxic smirk as he pulls his spear from Brometheus! What do you do?

Billy: Uh, how bad does he look?

Wise: He's decently hurt, but so is the rest of your team. You're the last in the initiative order, and if he's still up when your turn ends, the world may just end.

Billy: Okay then ... Stellar draws his hand-crossbows, looks Arctunoct in his dumb face, and proclaims "You are nothing but a selfish fool! And the Void of your heart will be pierced with STARLIGHT!" and will fire his crossbows.

Billy: And that's- NAT 20!

The Table erupts in cheers

Wise: Okay, how much damage?

Billy: Uuhhm, first I'm throwing Smite on that with my last level two slot and Lightbringer's final Divine Charge, so that's ...

Billy: Twelve piercing, and ... FOURTY THREE RADIANT!

The Table erupts into louder cheers

Wise: okay! WOW! That's a LOT of damage! uh- You Lightbringer's bolt CRACKLE with the fissile power of the stars, bleaching the shadows from view, stirking him square in the heart!

Wise: He clutches the metal piercing his chest, falls to one knee ... *grinning* and Laughs ...

Billy: WHAT!

Anton: NONONO!

Seth: HOW TOUGH IS THIS GUY!

Wise: Spitting up blood Arctunoct wheezes out "And so the light is swallowed by shadow ... a brave show young Paladin, but this ... THIS IS WHERE YOUR SUN BURNS OUT!"

Billy: Hold on! I have one more attack!

Wise: Yes, yes you do.

Billy: okay so that's ... Thirteen.

Seth: Bless!

Billy: Uh, Fifteen?

Anton: Brometheus's Inspiration!

Wise: And inspiration. You just need to roll a three.

Billy: ... I GOT THREE!

The Table erupts in even LOUDER cheers

Wise: Okay, Billy?

Billy: Yeah?!?

Wise: *Writing something down* I'm writing down Exactly how much health he has left, And then I want you to roll your damage.

Billy: Okay ... it's just the one roll ...

Billy: *Rolls Damage*

Billy: Okay,so that's Four damage, plus Five for my dexterity, and one for the Enchantment.

Wise: ... the first shot brought this beast of a man to his knees, but he still breathed.

Wise: Billy ... he had only nine Health after it, How do you Wipe him out?

*Seth, Anton, and Billy Freak the fuck out*

Billy: okAy! Okay! Okay! As he's laughing from the first blow, Stellar whispers under his breathe "It's always Darkest before the Dawn." And send this last bolt right into his neck, causing him to fall into the ritual, and is eviscerated as the spell goes haywire, unfinished!

Wise: Perfect. As his body is wrenched apart by the arcane Energies misfiring, you feel in your heart as you've accomplished what you were meant to do. The World is saved, the Sun just peeks over the horizon, as if to say thank you, to the knight that has let it blaze one more day.

[blackkatmagic]

Kat you’re planning on writing/publishing a book!?! Could we perhaps have a hint about the genre …👀? Either way I’m so excited and hope to hear more about it in the future.

:3

There's water dripping somewhere close, echoing off the broken stone, and Grey’s breath rasps in his throat, too loud, too harsh, too noticeable. Jagged edges of stone dig deep into his spine where he’s pressed up tight against a fallen column, and the world swims like a heat haze.

At the edge of the cracked column, sprawled out and twisted, still twitching, is the commander’s hand. Grey knows it is because he saw the man fall there, but—

It hardly looks like a hand at all anymore, and fear beats harsh and bloody in the back of Grey’s throat as he strains his ears, tries to quiet his breathing. Nothing is moving but the dripping water, and somehow, that’s a thousand times more frightening than the screams that rose a moment ago.

In the echoing darkness, something shifts. It drags, scraping and crunching and liquid all at once, and blind panic rises, almost drives Grey to his feet to make a run for the distant dot of light that is the entrance. The limp, twisted forms of those who tried are scattered across the temple’s floor, though, and at the last moment Grey forces himself back down, digging his fingers hard into the stone as he tries desperately not to move.

The dragging slide of something too large and misshapen pauses, and then there's a high, thready, terrified moan. Armor scrapes across the stone, a desperate attempt to crawl to safety, but a bare second later there’s a hiss, too deep and multifaceted to come from any mortal throat. It rises and falls like a tide, and the paladin screams, bare and weak and full of nothing but terror—

The cry cuts off so sharply it makes Grey’s stomach turn, and something wet and meaty cracks, cracks again, thumps back to stone and metal and drags like a flayed corpse rolled across the floor.

The door, Grey thinks, that unbearable fear clawing at his insides. He needs to get to the door. They came to fight a god and failed, and now there’s no one left standing but him. If he can just get to the door while it’s distracted by the bodies—

“Please,” a thin, reedy voice calls, cracking in the middle of the word, falling away in fear. “Please, Ylthos, please—”

The fear doesn’t abate. Nothing changes. Ylthos doesn’t answer her paladin’s cries, even though Grey holds his breath, waiting. There's another hiss, another dragging, scraping slide as the thing moves, and nothing happens.

That paladin, or maybe another, is crying, and the thin sobs echo in the hidden temple, drowned out a moment later by the sound of a body twisting, breaking, reforming into something horrific. A wash of blood slides across the floor, stained black in thick ripples as it moves, and Grey squeezes his eyes closed, then forces them open again.

His sword fell into the water, back when the thing first hit them. It vanished into the deep pool, and if Grey turns his head, he can just see the edge of the water, still perfectly clear in the guttering light. All the other weapons the paladins bore in here were twisted, or changed, or broken, but—his sword wasn’t. If he can just get to it, there might be a chance.

Ylthos isn't answering their prayers, but the light of that last blessing is still there. Grey can feel her kiss against his forehead, can see the lights of the Sun Temple if he closes his eyes. Ylthos isn't answering, but maybe she can't. Maybe Grey is the only one who can do anything.

And then, dragging, slick and wet and heavy, something moves on the other side of the broken column.

This isn't how it’s supposed to go. This isn't how it happened.

Grey wrenches to his feet, but instead of bolting for the pool, he turns. In the same moment, a hand closes over cracked stone, and the thing that they came to contain hauls itself up, a dark, twisted shape that only shares the vaguest similarities with a human form. It drags itself along with its hands, long nails scoring deep into the stone as it hauls itself up and over the column, keening, reaching. Grey recoils with a shout, reaching for the blessing, the flame inside him—

Even as light kindles, pure white and blazing, the creature cries, the sound scraping Grey’s flesh raw, sinking barbs into his mind. He stumbles, goes down, sprawled out on the wet stone, and the creatures surges up, grabbing, pinning him even as he struggles. It’s like struggling against a tree, though, or a mountain, and his fingers slip on raw flesh that oozes black blood. With a surge of terror, Grey grabs for that light, throws it up between them like a barrier, and the thing wails. Ichor splatters Grey’s face, drips into his mouth as flesh singes, and he looks up into burning red eyes that are fixed solely on him.

Dark, limp, stringy hanks of hair tumble around them as the thing lowers its head, those long, broken spidery fingers clamping down tight around his arms. A mouth opens, too many teeth, another splatter of ichor that burns sharp enough to make Grey scream, and then—

A voice, wavering, broken, as sharp as needles and knives. It keens, right next to Grey’s ears, so loud it burns. None of the sounds it’s made have ever had words before, but now there are. Now there’s something in the midst of the rage and hatred and fear, and it inscribes itself into Grey’s bones like a vast hand is writing it with a red-hot quill.

Save me, the god says, and Grey stares up into red eyes, the perfect mirror of his own, as it leans in, claws digging in all the way to the bone. Save me save me save me save me—

[yandere-wishes]

The Spider’s Web

Summary: You are a hero, you feel it within your bones. Calamity may strike and villains may rise. But you are still a hero, it's time to start acting like one. 

Continuations of Imposter Syndrome and Perfect Girl. But can be read as a stand-alone

 Warnings: Yandere themes,  violence, angst, just the worst Spanish you've ever heard.  SFW but Miles and the reader are 18+

Author's note: Last part of the Prowler Miles x Hero reader trilogy. Reblogs and comments are appreciated. 

There's a weight in your hand, familiar and awkward, worn yellow plastic stuck to rusted metal. You count the rotations it takes for one bolt to tighten, twist, twist, and repeat. You cradle the metallic gadget with such fragile care, lips tracing silent prayers across the cold alloy. This shall be your salvation once it's complete. Another key to unbinding these appalling shackles.

It's been months since the Prowler took you away. Locked you within his new hideout and threw away the key. He claims he loves you as he leaves sugar-tainted kisses upon your neck. Whispers that he's the only one who can keep you safe as he nibbles the shell of your ear. His claws have become a constant force upon your hips, his presence a burden, invariant and throttling. He's stripped you of your mantle as a hero, reduced you to a limbless, formless creature that merely exists within the dark of his room. Una muñeca, he calls you as he extinguishes the air from your lungs with a life-sucking kiss. 

But you're not a doll, nor a puppet, nor a toy. You're supposed to be a paladin, a saviour, the one who was going to alleviate this city of evil once and for all. But you're not a superhero, not now, not anymore. The thought is enough to make you sick. 

Your own reflection causes you the most pain. The glass paints a stranger with hollow eyes and a decaying soul. Defeated and broken. You've taken to smashing mirrors as a way to exercise your demons. Miles has stated his vexation over this and warned you not to invoke his anger again. It's hard to explain that his anger makes you feel human. The way his eyes narrow and his lips merge into displeasure is the only thing keeping you alive right now. You hate him, but he's practically forgotten that.

Your ears perk up as footsteps tread outside the room. You quickly rush to hide your new gauntlet under the bed, rolling to the deepest corners where the dust bunnies and boogeyman roam. You perch yourself on the bed, stretch to grab a framed family photo from one of the shelves, and focus your eyes. Keep busy, it's the best way to avert his suspicions. 

There's a light creek before Miles steps in. Footsteps heavy as if the ground's going to give way under him. He looks exhausted, practically dead. You wonder what he's been up to all day. You turn your head to face your nemesis, your jailer, your lover.

"Mi Vida" he mutters as he falls back on the bed, he turns wrapping his arms around your waist. "That slimy alien insisted I do some physical training today. It's exhausting. Says I need to be in shape for the big operation". You stiffen, ever since the sinister six had you out of their way, they'd been content with ruling the city with an iron fist. Nothing major, nothing extreme. But something is going down, something bad. Desperation throbs within your heart, you need to escape. 

Miles pulls you down until you're lying next to him. Gently prys the photo from your hands and looks it over. There's an endless moment that reverberates between you two. "I miss him sometimes'' he confesses, his eyes locked on his father's face. He looks like a child hopeless and lost. Desperate in all the ways you've never been. He pulls you closer and buries his head in the crock of your neck. It almost feels like love. If love was a thousand leeches that stick to every crevice of your body. Slowly infiltrating the heart. Slowly sucking away your life. 

Miles is a storm, a typhoon, a calamity. All hurling winds and bellowing thunder. A hurricane that shakes the world to its core. You've gotten so used to thinking of him as anything but human that you forgot he's just a boy. A boy with a heartbeat and a thousand painful memories all locked behind golden eyes. 

You remember when he used to tell you stories. Back when the safest place for a hero and a villain was the midnight sanctuary of a rooftop.

Stories of his childhood back when his father was still alive. Back when he was seven or maybe eight naive enough to believe his father's empty preaches about justice and righteousness. Mind too preoccupied with the new Rover red hot wheel his father had brought home after his shift. He'd been happy once, a long, long time ago.

Back then you used to think about him, in the spare moments between explosions and your blood pounding through your ears. You used to think about what kind of boy Miles would have been if his father had still been around. How sweet his smile could have been, how precious his soul would have been. Even after he kidnapped you and put you through horrors untold, you still think about the boy he could have been. Dare to imagine who he could have been. You wonder if his touch could have been endearing, could have made you feel safe. Half addicting and half comforting. It's laughable really, you never thought it possible to miss someone you've never met. Yet it unlocks a special kind of sadness within your heart. Maybe in some other lifetime, the two of you could have been real lovers. 

"We're planning to expand outside of New York, take over everything else," Miles says as his eyes grow heavier. He's tired, you think, that's good, that very very good. "There's no one left to get in our way." There's a dreadful banging in the back of your head. A screaming voice begging you to escape, to run away, to do SOMETHING, anything. There's a fatigue that has encompassed Miles, engulfed him whole. He's dead to the world in minutes. Whilst you are tortured by your consciousness. Your gadgets aren't ready. They're made from scrap bits you found around the hideout. Half assembled and never tested. Yet Miles is asleep, exhausted and unconscious. It's the perfect chance to run to return to your old life. 

Take a leap of faith, what's the worst that can happen...

You spare one last glance at Miles. Close your eyes and take in a shaky breath. A leap of faith you repeat within your head. You roll out of the bed and rummage under it to find your hidden gems. They're not perfect, not finished, but hopefully, they'll work. Your gauntlets are the most important part, they should theoretically be strong enough to break the seals on the window. From there you can use what little web filler alternative you were able to make to swing away from this dreadful place. Run and hide, New York is huge he shouldn't be able to find you. 

You rush for the window, pry the bolts loose, pull and pull until your muscles begin to collapse. The window creaks open and it sounds like freedom and hope all entwined with a fleece of dread. You step out onto the ledge. A hunting summer breeze ghosts across your face, as sirens scream in the background. A million lights bathe the city in a welcoming glow. You take a breath, turn around and fall. Diving into a concrete ocean, a place where you can finally feel alive. 

The rebirth of a hero has begun...

What is a hero in a land of villains? A shining star or a decaying light. To them, you are a monster, ripped from your mother's womb with a craving for blood and justice. To Miles, you used to be a beast, chained and tamed. He forgot that you were a numen. That you were something he had to fear. 

There's a divinity hidden inside each hero. Bones made of golden marrow that births sacred cells. A hero's blood is holy Ichor running through their veins. Ripping them apart from the inside and reassembling them as modern martyrs who shall die amongst the neon lights. 

How can you expect anything less from yourself? How can you be anything other than hallowed? You refuse to be anything other than sacred, trimmed in gold, and born of desert diamonds. 

Your eyes are focused on the last warehouse, Vulture, and Dr.Octopus are overviewing the newest cargo shipment. They're the last of the sinister six to die. The final lines to add to your tally. Then you can focus on the prowler.

After you escaped it took many days to find a safe place to hideout. You spend every second rummaging through the streets in search of new parts to use. You need a functional suit, one that could at the very least get you in and out of the Sinister Six's stock houses without detection. Then you could focus on stealing upgrades. You needed the strength, the extra power. There's a festering hunger pounding in your cranium. Desperate to get out. It screams the ballads of a vengeful melody. The need for retribution has become a cruel addiction, one that has driven you further than you ever dreamed possible. 

You stare out at the warehouse from your perch upon a skyscraper. 

 Count the seconds before the bomb detonates. On the count of three, a shiver goes up your spine. An acquainted terror, he's found, you feel his digital case price you from inside the shadows. Phantom pains resurface as old bruises begin to bloom. You earned your freedom to the symphony of breaking bones and tearing flesh. To the desperate tugs of your heartstrings as if it were a harp. There is no way you'll permit him to take it from you again. 

"Long time no see mami" His voice is gruff, hidden behind the layers of his mask. A small part of you used to miss this. Missed the Prowler you had fought almost daily. Missed the punching and kicking and the desperate need to kill or kiss one another. "Hello Miles" you spit his name like poison behind your teeth. Somewhere in the distance the bomb detonates, vermillion and smoke fill the air and you feel your heart skip in jovial delight. 

You twirl across the edge of the building, hands stuck out on either side. You look like a bird, like a ballerina. Like a friendly neighborhood Spidergirl. "What, you want us to beat each other up? For old time's sake."

Mile's mask slips away and he looks at you with eyes too dead for his young age. "You left me!" he screams, with a voice sheathed in pain, in anger, in broken dreams that had shattered far too quickly. 

You wonder if the mask has cut off the oxygen going into his brain. "Of course, I left you!" You scream, "You turned me into a metaphysical, gutless monster, you stripped me of every heroic deed I had embedded into your heart. You robbed me of my faith, my morals, my soul. Did you ever think I could love you after all that..." 

"You're talking crazy little bug, I was protecting you"

"From what! From the villains, I could have destroyed!"

There's rage leaking out of every aperture of his body. Anger within his lungs, pounding and prudent destructive at best. He rushes towards you, with every intent to kill to maim. He tackles you over the edge. You wonder if he has a death wish. You wonder if he's in love. 

You're falling into a sea of dying stars. Miles's arms wrap tightly against your waist. The ground seems infinitely far and yet ever so close. 

You wonder if Miles fears death or if he welcomes it. It wouldn't matter either way. For the first time in longer than you care to remember you feel so alive, dead tissue gives way to the howling wind in your ears. There's no end in sight. If you die, at least you'll die in each other's arms. Raindrops race past you splattering across the pavement, in a final moment of yearning, you sling your web against a low rise hoping it'll soften the fall. 

You wake up to the wet street. Miles's body sprawled out next to you. Inching closer you feel his pulse throb under your fingertips, a caged beast vying for its freedom. Desperate, desperate, desperate, exactly how he makes you feel. His eyes peel open, stardust and nectar falling from them. He's beautiful you think, he's deadly you recall. "and here I thought we had something special mami" he mumbles as his eyes begin to close. He'll live, you're sure of it. You just have to muster enough energy to drag him back to your lair. Tie him up for good measure, give him a taste of his own medicine. Maybe now with the Sinister Six gone and the city finally at peace. Maybe now with every bad influence scrubbed clean from his life. Miles can finally become a real boy. Maybe you two can finally become real lovers. 

There's a light that dances in front of your eyes. Rogue fire and magic all wrapped in one. A man steps out of it or maybe a seraphim. It's really hard to tell with the throbbing at the back of your head. He introduces himself. He looks just like you, spiders etched into his skin and pain pooling inside his eyes. You wonder if he's been through the same horrors as you.

But Miguel is older, a crooked thing. All fangs and blood and claws. You peel yourself from the ground and wobble over to him. Collapsing in his arms. Tears fall from your eyes matching the tears of the heavens.

"It's over little one, the pain is finally over" You know he's lying. Yet it soothes you. You know your new life as the protector of New York has just begun. 

You are Spidergirl now and your life has just turned into a Sisyphean labor

Sorry it's not as good as the other two, I was having a hard week lol

taglist: @nkmblackhyuuga @itsnotino @huicitawrites @bennybenten @scarleste @the-rouge-robin @murderofravens

[gnomishcunning]

Sometimes, you wonder if he knows how pretty he is.

Pretty really isn't the typical word you'd use to compliment a man like Zevlor, but it's the best word you have. He tends to render you a little stupid sometimes, despite your best efforts.

High-arching horns, as heavy as a crown. Striking infernal features, ridged cheekbones and a pronounced brow framing eyes that glowed with the brilliance of a guiding bolt. Broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist. An old, tempered strength hidden in underneath shining chainmail that somehow allowed him to wield a longsword with the dexterity of a rapier, yet carriedwith the deference he held for all his people.

He drew eyes. You weren't sure if it was a Hellrider's subdued bravado, a former Commander's quiet confidence, or a paladin's reassuring charisma, but there was just something - something that stole your gaze straight to him everytime he entered the room. Something that made everything go quiet when he'd seek your eyes across the Hollow, offering a nod of acknowledgement or a tip of his horns. Something that made you beam your stupid, smitten smile straight across the crowd, offering a little wave, or a wink if you bold enough. Something that never failed to make one side of his mouth quirk up with that little crooked grin you'd grown so fond of.

Something you'd do just about anything to see again.

"Tav? Are you listening?"

The quiet concern in his voice snaps you back to reality as he glances your way. The words emerge before you can do anything to reign in your traiterous tongue.

"Sorry. I got distracted by your handsome face."

The conversation drops dead in middair. A pause so pregnant it's having twins. His eyes go so wide you wish the flames in them would consume you, but the only rising flame is your brilliant blush as you clap a hand over your mouth.

And then-

The tiny quirk in the corner of his mouth, that crooked grin.

[commander-yinello]

Do you happen to have respec advice for other characters apart from Wyll?

Heya, thanks for asking! ❤ Here's what I like to run the other companions on.

Shadowheart: Light Cleric all 12 levels. She becomes a beast using Spirit Guardians, Fireball and Guiding Bolt. Also ridiculous overpowered in act 2. Give her Lathander's Mace and win.

Lae'zel: Battlemaster Fighter 12. Or if you don't like extra buttons, Champion Fighter 12 is great too. Fighter is a fantastic beginner class imo.

Astarion: Thief Rogue 4/Gloomstalker Ranger 5/Champion Fighter 3. You want the double attack from ranger, the action surge and ofc all that sweet lockpick proficiency. Give him a bow, he'll destroy everything.

Gale: Fighter 2/Abjuration Wizard 10. Finally that poor man not only has some good defenses, he smacks hard too. No more lying on the ground for him. (credit to nix on discord for this bc I was struggling lol)

Karlach: Open Hand Monk 8/Thief Rogue4 hits like a truck and imo fits Karlach. But Berserker Barbarian 8/Thief Rogue 4 where you throw all the things is also very good. I keep forgetting to buy weapons hence why I went with monk 🤣

Minthara: MUST have Thief Rogue 3. Soul Branding is stupidly good not to cast on everyone and only costs a bonus action. You can give her Paladin 9, Fighter 9 or build her exactly like Astarion.

Halsin: Storm Sorc 1/Land Druid 11 has my heart right now because of all the nice spells and mobility. However I am currently experimenting with a Moon Druid build bc I do feel Halsin is at heart a Moon Druid. Will post if I find one I like.

Jaheira: Same as Halsin, who I feel is at heart a Land Druid. Land Druid 12 also is great if you want those super high level spells.

Minsc: Berserker Barbarian 8/Thief Rogue 4 is his thing, let's be real. Let him be the Mad Man and throw everything.

[dark-and-kawaii]

˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱‧₊˚ A Paladin & His Princess ˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱‧₊˚

Notes: I wanted to share a small story I worked on for Zevlor & Lofn that involved her dragons. I really hope you all enjoy this as much as I do ♡

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ Paring: Zevlor x Lofn/F!Tav

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ Content: Comfort - A Sweet Reveal - Romance - Love

There had always been rumors since Zevlor was a child that had always whispered about Thay's & Cormyr’s rulers keeping ancient dragons by their side. He was always in awe when he heard the tales, but seeing them in the flesh was another matter entirely. He was told that the last dragon sighting was in Baldur's Gate many years ago, a distant memory now. Yet, here they were standing before him, a daily marvel that still took his breath away.

Aetherion, a massive dragon whose scales resembled amethyst, laid beside Lofn. Beside them both was Vyrmoth, slightly younger but no less imposing, with a golden brass body like a worn gold coin and scales with an iridescence hue. The scene was one of serene beauty and raw power.

As he approached Lofn and her two dragons, her back turned towards him, Vyrmoth's piercing eyes tracked his movements, the dragon's maw opening revealing teeth bigger than the tielfing, and a tongue capable of crushing a man. A warning no less should he try anything.

Lofn, however, remained focused on Aetherion, her small frame pressed against the dragon's face as she rested against him. Zevlor moved cautiously, his steps slow, not wanting to disturb the delicate balance she maintained.

When he finally reached her, he paused, hands clasped behind his back, watching his beloved lover, his princess, in silence. Watching as her hands gently massage and caress the beast's scales, the creature sounding as if it was purring as he leans into her touch as she speaks in ancient tongue. Her long lilac hair and pale complexion against Aetherion made quite the sight, something Zevlor wouldn’t mind admiring for hours. She was truly something, the way she handled the dragons- so gentle and sweet. So kind. The contrast between the formidable dragon and her soft, delicate body made Zevlor feel something in his stomach, his chest- his heart. It made him smile as he continued to watch. He felt honored that she had let him stay at her side, allowed him to watch her do such things with these ancient, powerful creatures…

“Give me your hand,” Lofn said suddenly, not even turning to look at her love.

He blinked, a little startled. She hadn't turned around and yet she still knew he was there, watching. He smiled, a small chuckle leaving his lips as he brought a hand from behind his back, holding it out to her. He watched as her free hand moved from the dragon and grasped his, tugging him closer and closer until finally she placed his hand upon Aetherion, her hand still over his as she guided his fingers across the rough scales. Aetherion's eye opened again and looked over the two, his eyes half lidded and a low rumble emitted from the dragon as Zevlor was pressed against the side of the creature.

“Feel him,” Lofn whispered, leaning back into her gorgeous beast, her hand never leaving his, “feel him breathe, listen to the rhythm of his heart…”

Zevlor let his eyes close, focusing on Aetherion’s breathing, the steady beat of his heart, the way the dragon rumbled beneath their hands. The way Aetherion leaned into their touch, and how Lofn’s hand felt on his own…

“They feel what I feel,”

Zevlor could feel the warmth of Lofn as she moved closer, his eyes opening as she placed a hand on his cheek and turned his face towards her, “they know that you are a part of me,” Her hand slid from his cheek, down his arm until she moved his hand to her still flat stomach, her own hand pressing his against her body, “that you are the reason I wake in the morning, and the last thought on my mind before I sleep...”

Zevlor's eyes widened, a soft gasp escaping him as the realization hit him like a bolt of lightning. His hand trembled slightly against Lofn's stomach, feeling the warmth and the life growing within her. “I- Truly!?” he stammered, his voice barely more than a whisper. The shock was evident in his eyes, “you are with child?”

Lofn's eyes sparkled with unshed tears, her cheeks dusted with a gorgeous pink hue. She nodded, her smile so wide it seemed to light up the entire realm. A small, joyous laugh escaping her lips, “Yes, truly.”

As her laugh escaped her lips, the sound so pure, so sweet, so beautiful that it was almost deafening. He thought he’d be alone, that he'd never be given the honor of starting a family with the love of his life, a woman so beautiful and powerful and amazing that she was practically a goddess in his eyes. And yet, here she was, the one who held his heart in her hands, his soul tied to hers and hers alone.

She was pregnant with his child… she was- she was carrying a piece of him, a piece of her. He was so lost in his thoughts that he barely registered his own laughter, his hand still pressed to her stomach. The next thing he knew, his arms were around Lofn, pulling her tight to his body and burying his face into her hair, her scent intoxicating.

His people abandoned him, rightfully so. His city had fallen, his oath as a paladin broken for the longest time. But her? She took him in, accepted him. Allowed him to call her his queen, his princess, his lover, his wife. She made him feel whole again. He was truly blessed by the gods to have her, his light, his hope.

As they stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, Aetherion lifted his massive head and let out a quiet roar, a sound that echoed through the ancient land of Thay. The dragon understanding, his emotions mirroring those of his beloved princess and rider.

Zevlor’s eyes were closed, a single tear rolling down his cheek as he held onto his love, the dragon and their child. His family. He would protect them, cherish them. He would never let anything happen to them.

Vyrmoth, though still cautious of Zevlor, let out a soft coo and moved forward. His large body coming to lay around the couple, his snout resting beside Aetherion's. Their rumbles shook the ground around them, a sound most would fear- a sound that still made Zevlor weary, yet right now it soothed him, made him relax into his princess' hold.

It was at that moment, he realized he didn’t just have a family.

He had a home. A home that was with her.

[callmelyc]

Angsty post canon concept:

When Allura dies what if the Altean magic she used on Shiro and Lance weakens and that's how ppl find out Lance also died?

Both Lance and Shiro start with symptoms they can ignore and ones doctors brush aside. They get told it's fatigue, they get told it's after effects from fighting In the war like they had for all that time. Neither realize it all starts after Alluras death.

Then they end up with things unexplainable. Things like extreme full body tremors, sudden extreme chills and are icy cold to the touch no matter the temperature. Their bodies ache in the ways they had in their deaths but neither man admits it out loud too afraid of what that might mean so neither is aware they aren't alone is this bizarre and sudden turn of events.

It's not until Lance collapses and is rushed to the Garrison hospital that they discovered it something more.

His body deteriorating from the inside out seen visibly from their newest high tech scans. Rotting, closing down, slowing or lacking proper function like his body has given up. Like his body is referring backwards to lack of life but no one knows why.

It's almost like its frying itself from the inside out, it's path crawling closer and closer to his heart with every passing day like bolts of electricity pulsing more and more upward.

Shiro is the first to realize what it means once Lance is finally giving the symptoms they'd had to pry out of him. He realizes with dread that his fellow paladin has things that match up too close to his own.

He only realizes bc he's felt similar things, only his resemble his own death and he knows for a fact its thinfs in Excruciating pain, a pain he thought no one but himself would ever understand.

To get lance to admit what happened Shiro goes through the scans himself to prove his point. No one enjoys hearing Lances story, Allura hadn't even known she was capable of what she'd done to him So he's worse off than Shiro is and terrified of the idea of dying again this slowly

both get taken to an off planet hospital, one that could preserve their symptoms until the rest of their team and families could find a way to heal them

But without Alluras alchemy No one knew what to do.

First they try talking to the alteans on new altea but none have any knowledge of the alchemy allura had used for them

Then the team spreads out

Pidge uses her ranking in her field to gain any and all database information she can get her hands on

Hunk uses his connections To the Balmera and other species to attempt to find any information on healing abilities that might help

Keith is the most successful, the man he loves and his brother are dying and he wouldn't accept that one bit

He sends all the Blades willing to look for any possible Leads and anyone who might know anything about healing magic or alchemy

Keith is the one who comes across one of haggars old druids, one well versed in altean alchemy and one bitter at what had become of the craft

She had understood, to a degree, what Allura had done to Save both men

She had tied their life force to her own to ground them back to this plane of existence and now that she's no longer tied to one universe her connection has faded and so has theirs

"You must tie them to another life to keep them but this practice is taboo. If this next life dies they will with it."

Keith doesn't hesitate for a moment "just tell me what to do and I'll do it."

He ends up tying Lances life force to his own, Lance so sickly he didn't get a choice and Keith apologizes the entire way

He combs fingers through lances thinned hair hoping it brought any comfort to the man that had no energy to even stay awake anymore "you can be as angry as you want after this, as long as you survive I don't care anymore..."

Shiros husband does the same for Shiro

They know it's worked when their bodies stop dying and start to finally try to heal.

The damage so extensive they both spend months in newly crafted healing pods that do everything to try to reverse it.

Both come out whole, alive and maybe a little worse for wear than before All this took place.

But no one cares so long as they stay alive.

And, if when Keith tells lance what he'd done to save him, Keith earns a strict slap to the face for his recklessness that's followed by a gentle kiss.

Well, no one says a word.