#druidcraft is saying I love you

[annemaetion]

First date

I had a potential comic I wanted to do where Orym shows up with a bouquet of roses for their first date, but I grew obsessed with sketching their outfits and made this instead. 💚💙

[kirnet]

Epiphany/Wyll. 1.1 k words

“It’s an acorn.”

”The depths of your perception never fails to impress, High Harper.”

Jaheira breathes hard through her nose, a little agitated snort that makes you wonder if she picked it up from her time in wild shape or if she had always had it. Firelight dances on the shiny surface of the nut as she turns it about. “Bah. What do you want from me?”

Why are you accosting her in the rare moments of peace you share, you know she’s really asking. You shrug, your tail sliding across the cobblestones as you settle on the crate beside her, the campfire’s warmth kissing your infernal cheeks. Certainly only the fire.

“It was a gift,” you say as explanation, the syllables of your highborn accent dancing on your tongue. Back in Baldur’s Gate, only a stone’s throw from the manor you grew up in, separated only by the Upper City gate and an Elder Brain who would love nothing more than to liquify your neural tissue. “One I would like to keep close.” Jaheira has no need to hear about the events that followed that gift, about the loose smiles and laughter, about the blades of grass that tickled your bare back…

Gods damn her. For all of your teasing, she is perceptive. You feel her watching you out of the corner of her eye, hear the barely contained grin in her voice when she asks, “Say it plainly, cub.”

You stretch your hand out, your indigo skin the color of the night sky, and spread your fingers. “I thought it might make a lovely ring,” you mused. “Aren’t I lucky that I know someone who can druidcraft.”

“Do you, now?”

“I can always ask Halsin.”

Jaheira lets out a raspy laugh. “If you wanted a woodland creature you would ask Halsin. You want something to match your fine tastes, no?” She nods towards the rest of the jewelry adorning your hands, all silvered and sparking with arcane energy. Your wardrobe alone is worth enough to buy your grandmother’s manor out from under her.

You shake your head. “I want something to match him,” you whisper, fully looking at her now, wriggling the finger on your left hand.

Her brows shoot up, and for a brief moment you can only see the whites of her eyes. Whatever she had been expecting, it wasn’t that. “He-“ She quiets herself when Gale looks up from his book, leans in closer. “He proposed?”

“And I said yes.” It’s a challenge to keep the giggle in as you press a hand to her lips. “We haven’t announced it yet, because as romantic and charming as Wyll is, I would rather lick a Bhaal worshipper’s blade than show off a bare finger.”

“Good, you’re still you. I was beginning to worry that you were going soft.” Jaheira takes your hand in hers, one wrinkled and one plump with youth, and places the acorn on your knuckle. A wizard as powerful as you is no stranger to magic, but yet you still watch in wonder as the outer shell flattens and twists, twining around your finger. It’s rough at first, but you can feel the tickle of the druid’s focus on your skin as she squints in concentration, and soon small vines separate from the bulk of the ring, twisting in a fine filigree. They compound and stack, swirling into a delicate density that steals the air from your lungs. The only indication that this is in fact an acorn and not a masterwork from Dammon’s forge is the cap sitting in the center, prouder than any jewel.

You don’t know what to say in maybe the first time in your life, and that’s all the compliment that Jaheira needs. You hold your hand aloft, any desire to be secretive long forgotten, and twist it about to catch every flicker of light. “Jaheira…”

“I’ll take no criticism, not until the groom sees it.” Oh, but you can tell she’s proud. She watches it closely, too, the organic material shining brighter than anything else adorning your fingers.

“Bossy old crow.” You stand, press your forehead to hers, wary of your horns, and draw back. “Thank you.”

Wyll is running drills when you find him, fighting off the shadows with the gleaming tip of his rapier, his own included. Breathing hard, he dances forward, sweat trickling down the nape of his neck. He’s so enthralled in his phantasmal foe that it takes a few moments for him to notice you leaning against the wall, your eyes feasting on his form. “M’lady,” he greets with a flash of teeth, sheathing his weapon as he hops over to you. “What is it, my love?”

“Only that I miss your attention,” you sigh, draping yourself in his arms. He happily obliges as you pull him down, your lips just brushing together before you’re bowed back, his hands on the small of your back, keeping you steady as he deepens the kiss. Your noses bump together when you finally pull apart, and Wyll seizes on the opening, nuzzling into the side of your neck.

“Better?”

You hum in contentment. “Getting there.”

Before he can attempt to remedy that, you place a hand to his chest. He doesn’t hesitate to take it in his own, the corners of his eyes crinkling before he pauses, frowns. Looks down, the pad of his finger trailing over your familiar set of rings and landing on the unfamiliar one. Something inside you melts when his eyes practically sparkle at the revelation. “Well, this is new.”

“Oh, this?” You feign ignorance to be difficult. He catches your hand before you can snatch it away, turns it about to inspect every inch. “I can’t have a proper fiancé if I don’t have a proper ring, now can I?”

“Are you mocking my proposal?” he jests, finally settling for wrapping his arms around your shoulders, trapping you against his chest. “Should I have sought out the finest diamond to place upon your hand?”

“Don’t even joke about that,” you don’t mean to snap, defensive of the weightless, priceless thing now forever attached to your finger. He rumbles out a laugh, the low sound settling in your bones. “Isn’t it perfect?”

It takes a moment for him to respond, and suddenly you’re worried that you misstepped, that you just desecrated a sacred gift. The worry quickly melts away when you crane your head to look at him, meeting his eyes that have been watching you the entire time. “Only as perfect as the woman wearing it,” he whispers in your ear. “Though I seem to be missing one of my own.”

[ravendruid]

trick or treat👻👻👻

Send me Trick or Treat for a treat <3 Remember when I mentioned I had 3 new AUs? This is one of them.

“Close your eyes, focus on the energy of the world around you.” 

Vax’ildan does as Keyleth says. He focuses on the wind blowing through the open windows, feels the warmth of the flames in the sconces, smells the freshly cut grass outside. Energy surges through him, green and brown if he were to give it colors, and he doesn’t need to open his eyes to know he did it because Keyleth allows a quiet gasp to leave her lips.

“That is wonderful, Mr. Vessar,” The professor says, now standing in front of him with a big smile. 

“Vax’ildan’s fine,” He corrects. The man looks at Keyleth with a knowing look, to which Vax explains, “Keyleth has been teaching me for a few years now. I’m not very good, but it’s something.”

Vax admires the small, wrinkly daisy on his palm. The stem is short and the petals are frail, but he did it. He created this tiny flower himself. 

“You will get there with practice,” the professor says and nods at Keyleth, who expertly Druidcrafted a handful of multicolored wildflowers, before he moves on to other students.

“Let’s try again,” Keyleth’s excitement is contagious. “Close your eyes. Leave out any negative thoughts. In fact, think about what makes you happy and hold on to that.”

Vax closes his eyes again, hands still facing up on the desk. He thinks about his sister and his mother sitting by the fire in their dilapidated cottage, but dark thoughts take over the memory, so Vax shoos them away. Keyleth reminds him again, in a soft voice, to think about what makes him happy, and Vax does. He sees her face clearly in his mind, a smile as bright as the sun. He sees Keyleth laughing by the edge of the lake, shoes strewn about behind her as she splashes the cold water. She has flowers in her hair and smells like summer and strawberries. Gods, he loves her so much his chest fills up with joy and hope. Vax holds on to the image of Keyleth’s smile, the love he has for her, and sends wave after wave of energy to flow to his palms. This time it’s rainbow-colored because Keyleth is nothing but brightness.

“Oh my gods, Vax.” She all but shouts. Vax opens his eyes and sees a full-grown daisy in his hands. The stem is as long as if he had just picked it, with beautiful white petals that stand up tall and proud, not like the other attempts. It’s beautiful, just like Keyleth.

“You did it!” Keyleth jumps in her seat, clapping. The professor runs over to see what the ruckus is all about and his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline when he sees the flower in Vax’s hands.

“That is amazing, Mr. Vax’ildan. And on your first lesson, too. You’re a good tutor, Miss Keyleth. I must be careful or you’ll take my place,” He jokes. Keyleth laughs and the sound is enough for Vax to craft another flower, equally as beautiful.

Once they are alone again, Vax breaks the stem of the first flower he made and turns to Keyleth, whose eyes shine brightly with pride. Only she would look at him that way. Vax slides the flower in her hair, behind her ear and smiles. She’s so beautiful and strong, and has no idea how smitten he is.

“What did you think about?” She asks, curious.

“You,” Vax whispers. Keyleth’s smile vanishes into a shocked expression. “Only someone as beautiful as you could create the most beautiful flowers.” It’s when her cheeks redden and her gaze falls to his lips that Vax knows it’s time that Keyleth knows exactly how he feels about her.

[lunarrolls]

druidcraft + orym & fearne

this idea was in my head instantly and i’ve just been on vacation so i couldn’t write it for DAYS. but GOD i love fearne and orym. they’re my silly rabbits. their friendship is everything to me. so have some grade a feelings!

•

Druidcraft is a cantrip on the druid spell list. We all know what it does—it can do other stuff but those flowers man—they’re an rp killer.

•

Fearne misses Orym something fierce, and it’s really not fair. It’s not fair that they were separated after everything that had happened, it’s not fair that her prayers had gone unheard, it’s not fair that she can’t seem to hold onto her people in any substantial way, and it’s not fair that nobody seems to know what the hell is going on. It’s not fair that the sky is trying to rip Imogen from her arms, not fair that Laudna’s not here, and not fair that F.C.G. keeps running headlong at threats without Ashton there to watch their back. It’s not fair that Chetney has to face his past alone because Fearne certainly has no idea how to help him and couldn’t calm him down when he turned in the woods.

Also, Fearne’s flowers are dying.

She’d never learned how to make flowers like Orym could. He liked to say that he couldn’t do anything special, but Fearne couldn’t make flowers. She could try, sure, and if she tried hard enough, something would probably happen, but she can’t do it like Orym. Dorian was the one who first suggested her new hairstyle one night with the Crown Keepers, and after he’d left, Orym had kept weaving flowers and vines and honeysuckle through her horns, handing her belladonna when she needed it and thistles when she was mad.

And now, as she stares at her own face in Deanna’s lovely little house, she sees that the edges of Orym’s lovely petals are browning. Fearne doesn’t know how long it takes for flowers to decay, but usually Orym would help her daily, so it wouldn’t get close. But now, well, there’s no Orym, and all her flowers are askew.

She huffs, turning from the mirror, and resolves to ignore it. If she never sees Orym again, well—first, she’ll find whatever made that happen, murder them very harshly, and then she’ll cling to the shriveled carcasses of his flowers.

But it won’t come to that. Obviously. Because she won’t let it.

•

And, of course, the first thing Orym notices once they’re alone in the Spire by Fire is that her flowers are wilting. He smiles, that same halfling smile, the same lovable smile, even with the shadows under and behind his eyes, and leans in conspiratorially.

“Fearnie, you still haven’t figured it out?” Orym chides gently.

“I know how to do it, Orym,” Fearne says softly, “I just—I didn’t want to, without you. You—you do it better, okay? So—so you can’t leave again. Okay? I’d look like a mess. It’d be bad. Mister would start gnawing on my horns without any honeysuckle to snack on.”

“I know, Fearne,” Orym says. “I’m not leaving again. Not if I have anything to say about it. You deserve better.”

And ah. Well. Does she? Does anyone? Isn’t that just how this works, in this stupid dimension? People come into your life and change you and make you care and then they leave, unceremoniously and with ever-broken promises on their lips. At Nana’s, nothing ever changes. Her friends are always there. It’s always colorful and bright and fun.

Why is she still here? If they’re all gonna leave? Why?

And then Orym gently wipes her tears, already forming more vines of honeysuckle and mint sprigs because he knows they’re her favorite and always calm her down when she’s stressed, and she can’t help it. Of course this is why she’s still here. Because he’d miss her, and she’d miss him, and they’re together until the end of the line.

“I’m sorry,” Fearne says mildly, as if tears aren’t streaming down her face almost of their own accord, “I just… I missed you so much.”

“I know, Fearnie,” Orym says, climbing up to press his forehead against hers. He grips her hand tightly. “I’m so sorry we couldn’t be there. I missed you too. And you deserve us.”

“Can we change up my flowers?” Fearne asks. “I have new skirts now.”

“Of course, best friend,” Orym says, smiling brilliantly at her again. “Anything you need.”

“You should get some too, Orym,” Fearne says, trying to hide her damp face. “Color looks good on you.”

[batnsonswrites]

I know you were asking about the hurt/comfort prompt for last night, but if you're still doing it could you do #14? 🥺🤗 thanks!

OKAY! so this is definitely NOT a drabble. Try more like almost 700 words lollll. But here, have some Orym and Dorian feels!!

“Your hair is a mess,” Orym says suddenly one night early into their travels together, after a long day of trudging through tangled branches and trailing leaves. Dorian huffs, hating the reminder. 

“I know, I hate when it gets messy like this,” he grumbles, sitting down on the bed and starting to painstakingly separate twigs and leaves and tangled knots from his hair. Orym chuckles from the other side of the room as he takes off his armor. 

“Will always got so many leaves tangled in his hair, too, I always told him to cut it but he refused, so I always made him let me braid it for him. Whenever he tried it just fell out in five minutes,” he says softly, a small smile on his lips as he recalled his stubborn love. He looks up when Dorian makes a small sound of frustration at a particularly nasty tangle in his hair, and he laughs softly again. “Here, let me help.” 

“Oh! No that’s okay, you don’t–” Dorian tries to nonchalantly protest, but Orym just waved aside his protest like it’s nothing. And to Orym, he’s sure it truly is nothing. This is something kind to do for a friend, Dorian knows this. But he can’t help how he freezes in place when Orym sits behind him. He hates it, hates how quickly he’s transported back to being a child with his hair being yanked and pulled and painfully detangled without any care or thought. And he hates how easily Orym can read him. He feels the way Orym’s fingers still just before reaching his hair. 

“Dorian?” Orym asks softly, confusion and concern lacing his words. “Is this okay?” He asks carefully, and Dorian hates the way he feels right now. 

“I’m fine, it’s just… I don’t usually like… people touching my hair,” he explains lamely, knowing it’s not even remotely a fraction of what the real issue is but not really knowing what else to say. But Orym, gods bless him, somehow immediately understands. 

“I won’t hurt you,” Orym says so achingly gently, and Dorian somehow immediately trusts him. He forces his shoulders to relax, closing his eyes tight as Orym starts carefully detangling each individual strand of Dorian’s hair. It’s a surreal experience. Dorian’s never felt anybody handle his hair with such care and gentleness before. His mother had always demanded he cut it, to make the nannies’ lives easier, but Dorian could never bring himself to cut it. So his nursemaids and nannies, and sometimes his own mother, had simply taken their frustrations out on his hair. But Orym? Orym made it feel like this was a luxury. 

Dorian isn’t sure when Orym finishes detangling it, but eventually he realizes that Orym has started braiding his hair. Dorian is surprised, given the last time someone tried braiding his hair for him there was a lot more crying and yelling involved. Instead, Dorian notices Orym is humming happily under his breath, and he smells the light fragrance of flowers. 

“Do I smell flowers?” He asks suddenly, so thrown by the novelty of this that he can’t even stop it. Orym’s fingers still for a moment mid-braid, and he chuckles softly. 

“Oh, yeah. Sorry, old habits,” he says shyly. “I used to do this for Will and my sisters, i always druidcrafted some flowers into the braids,” he continues, and Dorian feels warm inside thinking about Orym doing the same thing for him he used to do for his family. 

“It’s okay, I like it. I just wasn’t expecting it,” Dorian assures him, and Orym continues humming softly as he continues braiding. Dorian lets himself relax even more, almost leaning back into Orym as he braids. He smiles to himself, listening to Orym humming a gentle melody and enjoying the way it feels to have his taken care of so well.  So this is what it feels like to have people who care about you, he thinks to himself. He finds he quite enjoys it.

[valiantstarlights]

The Endless siblings' (and Hob's) DND characters

Disclaimer: I only used stuff from the PHB (5E) to make things easier for everyone, including myself.

Destiny

Race: Half-Orc

Class: Monk (Way of the Open Hand)

Background: Acolyte

Wanted to be a monk so he can reason that his entire body is a weapon and therefore can't be allowed in fancy gatherings.

Wants to have a low INT character because he's tired of knowing everything IRL.

Likes stealing things and gets away with it thanks to his high DEX score.

Carries Death and Delirium's characters on his shoulders when the party has to flee. (Destruction can fend for himself.)

Death

Race: Rock Gnome

Class: Cleric (Life Domain)

Background: Sailor

Nobody dies on her watch. Don't fight her on this. She will win.

Helps everyone, even villains.

Loves shopping episodes.

Dream and Hob's characters' #1 shipper.

Dream

Race: High Elf (or Drow--check with the DM first)

Class: Bard (College of Lore)

Background: Noble

His character is literally the antithesis of what a bard is usually portrayed as.

Wears only black, grey, or white clothes and loves to play melancholic music. Flirting? He doesn't know her. (Desire once called him a College of Eral bard because he took the fun out of funeral.)

Wanted to have a sad ending for his character in the beginning but changed his mind after Hob made him feel so loved that he chose to live happily with him instead. (in-game and in real life.)

The looks like he could kill you but is actually a cinnamon roll. Donates 10% of his earnings to schools and orphanages and thus is well-loved by good NPCs of the realm.

Destruction

Race: Mountain Dwarf

Class: Barbarian (Path of the Berserker)

Background: Outlander

Tries his best not to be a murderhobo.

Sings Misty Mountains every short/long rest. He's actually more of a traditional bard than Dream is, and he's also proficient in a musical instrument thanks to his background.

Likes drawing (stick figure) fanart of the party.

Describes his character as having the most magnificent beard.

Desire

Race: Tiefling

Class: Sorcerer (Draconic Bloodline)

Background: Charlatan

Tried to seduce Hob's character once and it almost resulted in a PVP with Dream.

Calls the big bad 'mommy/daddy.'

Successfully fucked a genasi who was the big bad's right hand and in doing so saves the day.

They ended up married to him and they have adorable little tiefling-genasi children together.

Despair

Race: Green Dragonborn

Class: Paladin (Oath of Vengeance)

Background: Urchin

Amazing at roleplaying.

Likes having the tallest character.

The party's leader via unanimous decision.

Likes to haggle during shopping episodes.

(Note: The twins' characters are siblings. They have literally planned their characters to both have wings that matched the other's race.

Desire's tiefling will have dragon wings at level 14. Despair's dragonborn will have wings at level 20 and she's gonna describe them as bat-like and demonic in appearance.)

Delirium

Race: Lightfoot Halfling

Class: Druid (Circle of the Moon)

Background: Hermit

Just wants to turn into all the animals and talk to plants!

Druidcrafts flower crowns every day for everyone (Dream and Hob get matching ones)

Likes to be the party's weather forecaster.

Hoards all the dice.

Hob

Race: Half-Elf

Class: Rogue (Assassin)

Background: Soldier

Here to romance Dream's character. That's pretty much it.

Will do anything for Dream, including giving him all his gold. Literally the simpiest simp to ever walk the earth.

During character creation, when Dream says he's gonna be an elf, Hob immediately called dibs on being a half-elf. (They gotta be anatomically compatible, okay? For reasons.)

The sunshine of the party along with Delirium. That is, until Dream gets hurt. And then no one is safe from his wrath. He's the looks like a cinnamon roll but could actually kill you. Do not fuck with him (or Dream). He has the power of god and anime on his side.

[avengingannie]

Get to Know My Tav!

Faolan Gren | half-elf | wildheart barbarian | he/him | 29

• favorite weapon: double scimitars and bows (he's dex-based)

• style of combat: covering a lot of distance, quick and slashy, first to strike

• most prized posession: Faolan didn't really start out with anything of his own because the clan he belonged to considered all things community property, and trying to claim something for yourself usually meant you had to fight for it. Faolan stole Halsin's pipe from the druid grove and feels an odd possessiveness over it that he doesn't quite understand.

• deepest desire: To leave violence behind and live a soft life. In another life, he'd have been a naturalist. He loves flowers and animals.

• guilty pleasure: stealing looks at halsin when he bathes at camp

• best kept secret: he was the runt of his clan and spent his whole life being made to feel lesser than because he wasnt the strongest. he's never said it out loud, but he wants to be valued for his softness.

• greatest strength: his honesty. He speaks plainly and says what he means.

• fatal flaw: his instinctual need to prove himself, especially to stronger men.

• favorite smell: the earth after rain.

• favorite spell or cantrip: longstrider. and although it's not in the game, I think he'd love and would want to learn druidcraft.

• pet peeve: speaking in riddles. Just evasiveness in general.

• bad habit: going nonverbal. he's used to not speaking up, so sometimes he forgets that people want or need a response.

• hidden talent: tree and bird identification. he knows a shocking amount about both.

• leisure activity: nature walks, swimming, generally anything outdoors. he also loves listening to music though is not musical himself.

• favorite drink: water straight from the spring.

• comfort food: roasted game.

• favorite person: halsin, karlach, wyll

• favored display of affection: hair touching/care, really good sex, demonstrating gratitude through acts of service

• fondest childhood memory: he was orphaned then scooped up by a marauding clan at a young age, so he doesn't have many. He did once, as a child, stumble into the feywild and spend the afternoon in the company of a young fawn boy, but he's convinced himself it was a dream.

[hornedcraft]

for reference; my collection of cards.  (updated 07/06/2023)

i have so many. i am planning on getting more.

asterisks mean they’re favourites. little write-ups provided, to give insight into what questions they prefer to answer and what personalities the entities/energies have. in alphabetical order, separated by type of divinatory card system.

TAROT.

Antique Anatomy: studious and spiritual; takes magic from a very scientific standpoint and encourages research. is extremely excited to help anyone on spiritual path questions, but fumbles with things about the real world. helps clarify messy and muddled feelings about magic work, but makes emotional things feel even more confusing.

Architect: very composed; a lot more emotional than i’d expected! interested in building “bridges” between people, all interpersonal relationships and “reinforcing” the spine and the inner self. good for big feelings, social issues, and self confidence; as well as for identifying obstacles that are halting momentum.

* Art Nouveau: one of my prior default decks. purchased in salem, massachusetts during my first trip. feels like a knowing mother; very connected to the divine feminine. feels very bright in terms of energy, but encourages you to touch into the darkness to understand the balance required in understanding magic fully. good for both personal and path-related questions; often very kind and sympathetic, but still offers sage advice.

Black Ritual: a gift from a friend at work. redraw of the rider-waite, feels very clean but very fight-y, justice seeker. sits at crossroads, will either give you advice or listen to you vent- either way, he’s like a good friend. very much matches your energy, but won’t bend his advice to just what you WANT to hear, only change it to be the way you might want to hear it.

Crow: takes a little bit of effort to reach into its energies, but very fun, playful, and encourages a balance between physical and spiritual. feels like a whole flock of crows, a full family dynamic too, that balances out all the different directions because of how many voices seem to be speaking at once. a little hard to pin down, but a really rewarding deck for any question you have; just be ready to pull clarifying cards.

Druidcraft: the first deck i ever received, currently unusable since two cards were ruined in a moving accident. huge stoner vibes.

Ethereal Visions: gorgeous, really serious, needs you to completely surrender your headspace over to it or else it won’t work. guardian angel energies. focused on building a strong internal self (especially a firm backbone) so that you may become a leader, or at least a trailblazer, in whatever material things you may want to pursue. mostly about building strength to withstand hardships, instead of telling you how to avoid them.

Everyday Witch: town healer vibes, older grandmother witch who’s been around the block a few times. knows about risk versus reward, interested in teaching and teaching you to teach, old in wisdom but young in joy. best used for questions where you need to be assured in your abilities, regardless of where they are; as well as general questions about the path if you want to learn something useful.

Guardian of the Night: like the crow tarot, but more focused. also feels like several entities, but unlike the crows, they speak with one voice. feels very urgent in whatever it says. interested in big catastrophes- if you’re in your tower era, this is a good deck to call on. good at mixing pep talks with advice, very encouraging to move, extremely instinct-based.

* Herbcrafter’s: fun dual-use deck. half regular tarot, half herbs and medicine oracle deck, makes for a fun spread no matter what. GOLDEN GIRL ENERGY. older woman who loves herself and wants you to love yourself, too. self love, self care, self protection, self discovery, self confidence- it is all about you, and becoming someone that other people want to ask advice from. really good for any question; makes you feel good coming out of the reading.

* Hush: incredible vibes. i use this deck as my namesake for my main blog. feels like walking into a deep, dark wood that you don’t belong in. does not do well with more trivial day-to-day questions; it wants to dig into the soil of your soul. will not give you an answer if you aren’t ready for it. mostly for the spiritual. dances along the edge of the veil, and encourages a deeper understanding of magic.

Inversion: feminine tomboy energy; kind of a take-no-shit kind of chick, will not really offer emotional support but will tell you exactly what you need to know. better for day-to-day questions, especially ones revolving around working, careers, or craftsmanship. based off the marsailles style of tarot, so a little different from the rest of my decks.

Modern Witch: fun, but a little shallow. for low-stress questions. very fluffy, probably not best for serious path-related questions, but will offer good direction if you’re a little scattered in your real life. be advised that it’s always going to direct you to the option that brings the most pleasure; not necessarily the best one in the long run.

* Murder of Crows: extremely powerful deck. i cried actual tears the first time i used it. death and rebirth. if you have gone through something difficult, or feel stuck in the dark, this deck will hold your hand through the hard shit. better used after the hard times, so it can get you out of the wreckage. deeply personal. deeply magical. i must reiterate the power that radiates from this deck.

Murder of Crows (Limited Print Red Edition): this one feels like the more positive sibling to the original murder of crows deck; once the first brother has gotten you out of the wreckage, this one kinda helps you to stay in the good times without sliding back. older brother passes your hand to younger sister. not as powerful, but works well in tandem with the other.

Mystic Dreamer: not a fan of the art style, hard to connect to. feels conflicting in its advice, too; aware of the need for plans, but consistently warns that plans never go to- well, plan. strict in terms of logical over emotional. i don’t know what kind of question this deck would be best for.

Occult: deck of demons. literally made of demons. was not aware that it was meant to be used for summoning demons when i purchased it in a large lot. useful for seeking out important people in your life. i am genuinely too scared to work with this deck without my boyfriend (who’s worked with demons before) present to make sure i don’t fuck up somehow. it sure does feel like a bunch of demons in there! for sure!

* Rider-Waite Mini: the default deck i use- not because it’s a rider waite, but because it’s the deck i use to communicate with my deity, cernunnos. if you don’t specify your deck, there’s a high chance i’ll be using this one! i carry it with me at all times (unless i forget to swap it into a new bag if i change purses).

Spiritsong: eclectic animal commune. similar to guardians in the sense that each card is related to an animal, but a much softer energy. hippy vibes; not quite stoner like the druidcraft deck, but very peaceful and indulgent in a way. instinctual, but not intense. light and airy. probably best for making decisions; will guide you towards the answer you kind of always wanted in the first place, and encourage you to allow yourself to want things.

Tattoo: very dulled energy, hard to harness

* Urban: my favourite modern deck. very much feels like you’ve found a beating heart in the centre of a metropolis and it’s pulling on everything to answer you. a little bit hectic, but definitely useful in finding what path you’re meant to walk; think of it as a subway system, and it’s giving you directions.

Wildwood: new deck, never used

Wild Unknown: new deck, never used

Wizard: made by the same people as mystic dreamer, and has the same issues.

Zombie: my least favourite deck of all time. the second one i ever got. i keep it for laughs mostly, and also to point at when people ask which is my least favourite.

ORACLE.

* Celtic Tree: really in-depth, super interesting system. CANNOT be read in a typical spread; requires its own long-form system of wheels that takes hours. i still do love it, though.

Crystal Wisdom Healing: i’ve had it for a very long time, usually works better as a supplement to a reading from another deck

Flowers: new deck, never used

Green Witch: fun vegetables! need to dig my hands into it a little more, though.

Hedgewitch Botanical: new deck, never used

Prism: new deck, never used

Seasons of the Witch Samhain: new deck, never used

* Wild Unknown Animal Spirit: outstanding vibes, really motivational but still balancing.

LENORMAND.

Golden: more classic style, not a huge fan but definitely says what it means.

Green Glyphs: beautiful soft and smooth art, just haven’t fully clicked in for me yet.

* Red Hand: my first lenormand deck, gorgeous art, feels super blunt in a really fun way.

[space-city-traffic]

If you're taking more questions I'm very happy to keep asking :3 I love the sound of all these characters, I want to know everything about them. Anyway Byron: 10, 19, 27, Bellamy: 57, 59, 65, Silas: 14, 33, 68

i will happily take more questions!! answers are under the cut again for convenience. :D

10: how often do they lie? what situations cause them to be dishonest? oh, Byron lies All The Fucking Time. he likes to pretend to be just a normal tavern keeper, but he’s secretly a warlock who has to sacrifice people every new moon to stay alive, and so he sacrifices those who are hurting other in order to try to protect those who need it and justify his own continued existence that comes at the expense of others’ suffering……. yeah you can imagine there are a LOT of situations where I had to roll deception lol. the party didn’t even know he had magic, much less that he was a warlock, until several sessions in. wild times.

19: what haunts them? what doesn't? for Byron, it’s every time he fails to save or protect someone. especially the time he failed his little brother. he’s also quite literally haunted by noneuclidean horrors sent by a cthulu of chains, so. yeah he doesn’t sleep. what doesn’t haunt him… honestly great question. I think there are quite a few kills he’s made that don’t haunt him at all. men who took advantage of vulnerable people in Byron’s own tavern, those who dehumanized others, parents who hurt their children… yeah there are some folks he does not regret killing at all.

27: how do they mourn? on Sai, where Byron is originally from, every month is named after a god, and the month you’re born in is the god you’re sacred to. Byron’s little brother was born in the month of the moon. and while Byron isn’t religious at all, he keeps a candle to the moon burning somewhere in his tavern at all times. because to him, his brother is more sacred than all the gods.

57: what makes them angry? augh so much. Bellamy really struggles with his temper, he’s impulsive, he’s a fighter, he throws himself into life fists first. he’s getting better, but a sure fire way to set him off is always to threaten or shit talk his friends.

59: what is a quiet passion of theirs? Bellamy loves plants and flowers. he taught himself druidcraft, and he loves to make things grow.

65: what is holding them back? yknow, Bellamy needs to forgive himself for being him. he knows he’s too much, he knows his impulsiveness does nothing but cause problems, he was sent to Strixhaven in the hopes that college would fix him… but he really needs to accept that he has those flaws and let his guard down and be okay with people seeing him and supporting him. because as is, he goes out of his way to hide things from people and sacrifice himself, and it’s stifling him and doing nobody any good. he needs to accept that he’s fundamentally a teenager, and that’s going to mean being clumsy and making mistakes, and that’s okay, that’s normal. so I guess his perfectionism is what’s holding him back in the end.

14: what is something they love about themself? hm. love is a strong word. but Silas highly values his own dedication, his strength, his dogged determination, his investigative capabilities… everything that makes him useful and effective.

33: what makes them cry? loneliness. silently at night into his pillow.

(also this hasn’t happened yet, but my friend playing Thespa has said that next time Silas is threatened in combat, Thespa’s gonna yell “Stay away from my kid!!” which. oh my god Silas will so cry. because he’s not used to people protecting him—because Thespa’s the one he’s been sent on a holy mission to betray and destroy—he’s gonna CRY from the mixed up intensity of it all. and my friend doesn’t KNOW silas is gonna betray thespa and I’m gonna SCREAM if i can’t TELL anybody SOON oh my GOD)

68: what was the best moment of their life? Silas used to just be a kid on the streets. but one day, he came across a monster his mind couldn’t even begin to comprehend, and he jumped in to help a stranger slay it without a second thought. and after the battle, that stranger took his hood off and offered the now bloodstained child Silas a job. a purpose. a mission. a place to belong. that stranger became his handler, and Silas became an angel sent into the myriad planes of this world for a reason. that was the best moment of his life.

thank you for enabling my blorbo posting!!!! i love my ttrpg boys!!!!

68: what was the best moment of their life? Silas used to just be a kid on the streets. but one day, he came across a monster his mind couldn’t even begin to comprehend, and he jumped in to help a stranger slay it without a second thought. and after the battle, that stranger took his hood off and offered the now bloodstained child Silas a job. a purpose. a mission. a place to belong. that stranger became his handler, and Silas became an angel sent into the myriad planes of this world for a reason. that was the best moment of his life.

thank you so much for enabling my blorbo posting omg I have so many feelings about my dnd boysssssssssss

[yowhoevenami]

Totally saw and studied this picture for a bit before I even read the text with the post so here was my take without knowing any of the original references yet and I've not read the fic that was the inspiration. (it's crazy to me how many different thoughts and ideas can be sparked from the same piece of art):

Just gonna nerd about tarot for a minute and how perfect this is. The Hanged Man can have a lot of meanings but one of the major ones for me is the sense of surrender that is inherent in it. It can be about letting go of yourself and sumbitting to something larger than you.

My druidcraft deck says, "independence comes from an acceptence of our interdependence" and if that's not Mandalorian culture . . . I don't know what is.

The art is obviously awesome as well! The posing, the colors. I can tell that so much love and attention went into this and it's fantastic!

The hanged man bound by the Creed

I’m baffled how beautiful this turned out to be. This is my love letter for @ryehouses and her fanfic “a simple thing”. I poured my heart and soul into this piece and I hope you will appreciate. I was also thinking it can be a fanart for the season 3 but the series goes the different way. Not gonna lie, I was little bit sad about that. Hoewer this is exactly why fan works exist. The story is set up after the season 2 before the BoBF was released.

Now I will dive more into the details of making this painting.

The whole idea was to show Din’s struggles and emotions through his journey in this story. “The Hanged Man” is the card of sacrifice that is needed to move forward, as a representation of righting a past wrongdoing or just steadying himself before moving forward. To reevaluate and learn to live with the new Way. And that’s exactly what this story is about. Din is dar’manda, he removed his helmet, he is not mandalorian anymore, his covert shunned him. He has a saber he doesn’t want. Without the kid everything is meaningless. He has nowhere to go, so he just sinks more and more into depression. But Boba is there, steady as a mountain. He helps Din to understand himself, he sets him on his new path, the new Way he can walk.

The hammer in the corner is the covert. The shame and guilt Din feels when his alor’s and brother’s judgement falls on his head, strong as beskar.

The figure with the darksaber is Tarre Vizsla, the first Mand’alor representing Din’s future with the weapon, the heavy searing burden.

The blue flow is the Force. It is like a cloud, a mist that drifts from living creature to creature, set in motion by currents and eddies.

Lastly, there is a castle basking in the Tatooines suns, representing Boba Fett. His strong presence, Din’s safe space.

I was inspired by @penumbra_cosplay photo shoot and use them as a reference for the pose, so please check them out!

And the whole style is inspired by Alfons Mucha’s paintings.

To those who read all of this, I thank you. I was a journey! Love you and see you next time. 💜

[themerriweathermage]

Wrath and Ruin: Chapter Four

Chapter Four: Silvanus

Morning came too early, and Lydia was up before I ever stirred. “I thought it best to let you sleep.” I shook out the kinks from sleeping on the ground. As much as I hated to say it, sleeping in the dragon form was almost preferable to sleeping in this wolf form, phasing up to stretch out protesting muscles. “Breakfast?” I shook my head. At this point, with what loomed in front of me, I wasn’t particularly hungry. I would need to eat again before I took my dragon form, but that could wait a little bit longer. My path to what I was looking for would have to be made on foot.

“I’m going to head out.” I murmured. “No sense in waiting any longer.” She didn’t press me not eating, even though for a moment I could sense the concern. Instead she followed me out. This unfortunately wasn’t the time for small talk. I needed to concentrate and we needed to make fast tracks across unknown terrain. The countryside was overgrown. The highway that had once been here was still visible in splotches here and there beneath moss and dirt. Even the solar farm across the road had been swallowed by nature, although that was something to consider. I might see if anything could be harvested and taken back to the Badlands.

Another brick walled church marked the path I turned down. From here it was just a matter of time. I couldn’t say that I was really prepared for what awaited me, if there was anything left. And if I had to look, look and see what had happened, I wasn’t sure that I could take it. My pace slowed the more we came into view of the graveyard. I remembered the last time I was here. It wasn’t a good memory or a bad memory; it was just a memory. I had gone to say goodbye.

I don’t know if Lydia sensed it, but something told my senses that the air here was off. As if to prove our conversation last night about other magic users existing in this world right, I realized that the graveyard was warded. The magic was... stale, as if someone had set it a long time ago and it had simply never been pressed against. I wondered... who would have cared so deeply enough to respect this final resting place? Was it someone’s act of compassion or did they have loved ones who were buried here?

“It’s untouched.” Lydia murmured quietly, walking the rows of gravestones. Time stood still here, unaware of the world that had continued to spin on without it.

“It’s magic.” I replied. “A ward.”

“Yours?”

“No.” She glanced at me sharply. “But it is old.”

“I thought you said wards would unmake themselves on the death of the person who made it.”

“My wards will.” I murmured. “But this isn’t my vein of magic. This is not druidcraft.” I searched the names, pausing down a row. Pausing because my family name was written on the headstone. No one in the Badlands knew me by that name; few people even knew or called me by my full first name either. I let my eyes wander down one, down two, and in the third spot was my dad. I studied the marker. The year of death wouldn’t have been terribly long after I had disappeared. And it came as no surprise that my mother’s grave was beside his. Even in sickness, she never wanted to leave his side. Truly a ‘til death do us part’ couple.

And then my eyes fell down to the plaque between the two gravestones, a memorial marker no less. The one thing that I’d been hoping wouldn’t be there was there, with a name that no longer reflected who I was carved into the ornate stone. I knelt, my fingers tracing over the letters.

Here lies the memory of a beloved daughter and sister, who disappeared without trace. May the angels guide her path back home.

I scoffed then. My touch against the stone had revealed all. The arguments that followed their choice to put this here. The words that had been said and the way they had hurt the one person who loved me most. They knew. They had known, and yet they buried the memory of me in a religious rite. 

In a split second, I saw red, letting the rage take over, lifting the stone from the ground without effort and hurling it against a tree. “I wasn’t your daughter!” Lydia started out of the corner of my eye. “You buried a false memory of me! You had a son! A son to carry on your family name! But you buried a daughter; well, let me tell you that that person died a long time ago!” I seethed, feeling the change come over me, taking the stone and breaking it in half with my bare hands, not that they were particularly hands anymore. “He told you the truth! And you spat in his face. You couldn’t accept me for who I was.” My shoulders slumped, tears brimming in my eyes.

“You were my mother. My mother! How could you not?!” The tears came then. “How could you not love me for who I was?!” I folded myself in, sinking to my knees. “How could you hurt the one person who loved me most?” I whispered. I didn’t even want to think about how much he had been hurt by their words, or how much anguish it must have been to see my memory so willingly be tarnished.

“I didn’t mean to go.” I started. “I didn’t have a choice. I did not leave; I was taken.” I didn’t know if they could hear me. Some part of me hoped they could. Some part of me hoped that they could see me broken, to see what their words had done. “If only you could see the man I turned out to be, but even if you could, would you call me your son? Would you call me who I am? Would you call me by the name that fits me most? Would you call me Brenior, the enduring one?” I asked, wanting to fight and run and just... My chest heaved and my stomach was turning and I couldn’t bear the anguish that felt like it was tearing me apart inside.

Everything that had happened since we’d been thrown here all came pouring out in one agonized yell, like a bottle with too much pressure that had finally exploded, and I couldn’t even begin to describe the feeling. It was almost as if there was a power within me, bursting at the seams to be let out. A power begging to be released that wasn’t my Wrath, that didn’t belong to my anger or my temper, and I couldn’t carry it anymore.

Within the span of a minute, it felt-- and looked-- like a hurricane had ravaged the area, as power exploded out of me. I didn’t even know that I had that kind of power inside of me, but it had taken with it some of the aches and pains. Breathing came a little easier as I laid back in the wet grass, sapped of my strength. The only consolation I had was that Lydia had been protected during the affair. Even in the midst of everything, she remained shielded, protected by a thin ward that was quickly fading in the aftermath.

“Well.” A new voice sounded and my head immediately snapped up, eyes on alert. “That was quite the show.” The man stepped out from beneath the branches of the oak tree that had sprawled across the yard, undisturbed in these last years, and my mind immediately recognized that there was a part to him that wasn’t entirely human. My first instinct was to tuck Lydia behind me, and this action didn’t go unnoticed. “Is she your mother?” He asked. It took everything I had not to bare my teeth and raise my hackles at this intruder, the animal instinct in me ready to fight. “Your bonds burn so brightly.” I narrowed my eyes. There was something familiar about that statement and only I would know why. So who was this stranger who would recite my own words back to me? “You would die for her. You would kill for her.”

“Who are you?” I asked. He tilted his head to the side slightly. “Who are you to recite my own words back to me?” 

“I wondered if you would notice.” He stepped more into the light, taking the form, almost as if he were shapeshifting, of a man but a man adorned in twisting vines and stag antlers, life seeming to swarm around him in an aura. “But seeing how you two are like, I don’t find it surprising. Kin calls to kin.” When he took a step forward, life sprang forward to meet him, flowers and clover sprouting underfoot. It probably would have been in my best interest to step back at his approach but I held my ground regardless. “Tenacity. Most wouldn’t stand to greet me.”

“Who. Are. You?” I asked again. 

“In the common tongue, I am known as Silvanus.”

“The Oak Father. The god of druids.” I realized. That would certainly explain the phenomenon happening around him.

“Yes.” He replied. 

“Did you ward this place?” 

“Perhaps.”

“Why?”

“You were called to it, were you not?” Silvanus asked. “Not a place warded with a different magic than your own, but a place warded with a much more powerful magic, strong enough that not even you would recognize it on first glance.”

“You... wanted me to come here.”

“I wanted you to come to me a long time ago.” Silvanus started. “But it seems your duty as baron has outweighed that call.” He didn’t come any closer and yet I could feel as if he was right next to me. “And you’ve paid a high price for it.” I knew he was watching me, trying to gauge me, trying to gauge my reactions. My eyes flicked to the side, because I knew he had to be talking about the bruises, but I hadn’t entirely told Lydia the truth about why we had been leaving the Badlands.

“I think I’ve spent enough time chasing after things that aren’t important to my barony.” Silvanus offered me a wry smile, and I wondered if he knew, but he seemed to know things about me that only I would ever know, so my questions were probably answered already.

“But this is, is it not?” Silvanus asked. “As important if not more.” His eyes flicked over my shoulder to Lydia behind me and then back down. “I assume you feel a little bit better after your outburst, now that the power inside of you isn’t trying to eat its way out of you?” He asked.

“A fluke.” I replied. “A gift that’s cost me double its worth.” Silvanus let out an incredulous laugh, shaking his head at me.

“This isn’t the magic of the mountains that brought you and your sister those gifts. This is the magic of nature and all her glory, of Gaia and the nymphs, of thicketed forests and those who would wander in them, of rushing rivers and rhythmic tides. You kept it in, when it was begging to be let out. And it damn near killed you.” I blinked. Sure, Nix had reminded me that often magic came at a price, that overusing my gift could be causing my own pain, that it didn’t come without sacrifice. But what Silvanus was telling me... was the complete opposite.

“You weave it in ways only you know how, but even experienced druids would have a hard time containing the magic you have. You warded a man’s entire crop, did you not?”

“And it cost me.”

“Not in the manner you think it did.” Silvanus replied. “You were betrayed. Your magic knows you were betrayed. Your ward was built from hope. It’s hard to protect something when you’re being pulled in two opposite directions.”

“But...”

“You have a gift, Brenior Ithilion. Don’t you think it’s about time you started using it?” Silvanus steamrolled my protests.

“A gift. A directionless gift. That comes with no instructions.” He chuckled.

“Get lost in the wilds of your barony. A place will find you where you can learn more.”

“A grove.” I realized. He was telling me to find a grove. For us to meet? I had so many questions.

“If that is what you wish to call it.” And just as he seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, he disappeared into the mists that still remained after my outburst. I let out a soft sigh, sinking back into the grass with a million thoughts running through my head.

“Bren.” Lydia’s voice sounded so far away to me. “Brenior.” I glanced to the side to see her standing there, her hand reached for my shoulder but not touching, uncertain. The look in her eyes read what she wasn’t saying. She coaxed me to the tree, offering herself for a hug and it took everything I had not to launch myself at her. I didn’t want to hurt her, not like this especially, but the need for comfort overpowered that. I all but threw myself to her lap, burying my face against her and just crying until there was nothing left but dry sobs and shuddering hiccups.

Her touch seemed hesitant but considering the form I was in, I didn’t blame her. Careful fingers traced across the matte metallic scales, across my head and down my back in soothing motions. I knew the half shift was tied to strong emotions, anger, fear, sadness, pain. She didn’t say anything; she didn’t need to. The fact that she was there was enough. The fact that she had stayed was enough. Long after the tears had stopped, she stayed, she kept her hands on me, as if to make sure that I was okay.

“Are you alright?” She finally asked, her voice low and measured. I had turned into hellfire and wrath personified and destroyed what had been left of a life I no longer had. Now the only memories were the memories that rested with the dead. I leaned back against her, staring off into the distance, eyes unseeing.

“I... I want to hurt myself.” I admitted lowly. Her sharp intake of breath told me she was concerned. “I don’t want to kill myself; I just want to hurt myself. I want to make the pain I feel on the inside show on the outside. Not for sympathy or for pity, but to know that it’s real, to see it be real, to see the blood as if someone’s twisted a knife in my heart because it certainly feels that way.” I replied.

“Is... that why you’ve stayed like...” Like this? With an armor that’s impenetrable by normal human standards? 

“It’s tied to strong emotion. Most shifts I can do without thinking; they come almost second nature. But this one? But wrath? Wrath has a short fuse and a long cool down.” I admitted. “I’ll come out of it eventually, when the feeling passes.” When I don’t have the urge to destroy everything I’ve worked so hard to keep. Even in a half dragon form, I could still see the scars. And I knew it was the subconscious reason that I kept myself so mostly modest to my barony, even though I didn’t have to be anymore.

I couldn’t put the hurt into words. It was strangely reminiscent of loving someone so much it hurts only to have that love be dashed against the rocks, which was also strangely reminiscent of what had happened with Quinn, but worse. Worse because they had been my family and because they hadn’t seen me for who I was or wouldn’t see me for who I was, even after I had been lost. Worse because I would have brought down the moon and stars for my mother and yet still I’d been laid to rest with rites I didn’t believe in, blessed even, in rites I didn’t believe in.

“When I realized that it probably wasn’t safe to come out to my folks, I... tested out a last name. Something that didn’t tie me to anyone in this world. Ithilion, I called myself, in the same language that Brenior comes from.”

“What does it mean?”

“Son of the moon.” I sighed softly. “I was born in the morning hours. Too small and too weak for this world.”

“And yet you endured.” A small smile edged to my lips, the shift beginning to fade. And yet, I endured. She got it.

“Through hell and high water.” I murmured. Silence fell over the area, even more than normal it felt like.

“Bren?” I made a low sound. “I know it’s not my place, but... if you want me to call you my son...”

“I couldn’t impede.” I murmured. “I... Ryder...”

“Was an adult who made his own decisions. I do not hold you responsible for his death. Nor would you be replacing him. But if you want me to call you my son...”

“I’d like that.” I whispered. “Mom.”

[voidselfshipp]

Cw: critica role spoilers from episode 49 onwards.

For context: colored dialogue is the character talking, what follows is the actor who plays said character describing what their character does. This doesnt mean I selfshipp with the actor, this is just a "what if I was part of the critical role cast and my character was cannon"

Nova is played by me.

Ashton is played by taliesin

Imogen is played by Laura.

Solstice scenes w Ashton and my s/I.

Jerico:"Ashton Wait" I call out, reaching for them "I gotta tell you something...it's important"

Taliesin:"You can tell me when this is over" and I turn around to meet her gaze.

Jerico:"No! I wanna tell you now!. If i die , I wanna die knowing I told you!" I make a pause,looking at the ground for a moment before meeting their gaze and go "I have feelings for you!" And I give them a quick kiss and run off.

Taliesin:"Before she leaves I Grab her wrist and kiss her, a proper kiss if you Will, "you better come back to me or so help me" and I let go.

Jerici:I give them a warm smile "not even the Matron of ravens could Keep me away from you"

--Jerico (Nova) and Taliesin (Ashton)'s interaction before storming the Maeleus key in the hellcatch Valley.

《♡♡♡♡♡》

[Matt:And then theres a flash--]

Jerico:Wait! Dm can I do something before that happens? Nothing big, its just a small thing.

[Matt: okay. Ill allow it]

Jerico:Nova pulls Ashton in for a hug, and I imagine her tail wraps around them and she whispers "Te quiero!"

Taliesin:If I May, Ashton hugs Nova back and whispers "Yo tambien"

--interaction between Nova and Ashton before The God Eater Predathos is released.

《♡♡♡♡》

Laura:"Theyre alive, dont worry" I say standing besides Nova " he loved you just as much as you loved him"

Jerico:"I dont know what I'll do if they are not okay, or alive...I think ill go full kamikaze and try to kill Otohan by myself"

Laura:Imogen scoffs lightheartedly "You and Ashton are meant to be. Im sure he'd do the same if he was in your shoes. Yall are really cute toghether"

Jerico:"Thanks imo"

《♡♡♡♡♡》

Jerico:I see Ashton laying down, half drunk. I sit besides them and I say "I dont know what's going on with you. Im here if you need me, dont be scared of reaching out". And im guessing since Nova also knows what not being able to remember who you were before a certain age, she'd know the telltale signs of something triggered by that feeling so Nova would just slowly druidcraft a flowecrown

Taliesin:"I dont need your sympathy"

Jerico:"I know. But it's not my sympathy im caring for you just like you care for everyone else, Wether you admit it or not"

Taliesin: Im guessing Ashton would remain silent, looking at the floor. He just whispers "I hate how you care for everybody. Actually I dont hate it. I think its w-wonderfull..."

Jerico:"Let me take care of you for a change, try and rest" and I settle the flowecrown on them and lay down besides them, Nova interlazes their pinky with Ashton's so as to not cause them that much pain. And she looks into their eyes and whisper "Te quiero"

Taliesin: "What does that mean?"

Jerico:"Its like I love you, but less...strong? Like a level before I love you"

Taliesin:"And what do you usually reply?"

Jerico:"Yo también ,means me too"

Taleisin:Ashton looks like they stop themself from saying something, they just nodd and close their eyes, and im guessing they pass out.

--Ashton and Nova's conversation before reaching the Hellcatch Valley.

《♡♡♡♡♡》

->only mutuals allowed to reblog. Lmk if I need to tag something else

->DISCLAIMER: its common for Rping actors to refer to their characters in first and third person.

->♡lovely taglist: @malewifehenrycooldown @mercuryships

[ravendruid]

For the send me a sentence and I will write something VM thing. Vaxleth . "You know I'm in love with you forever and ever and always, right?" (Going for the gut punch with this. Some of their first and last words of their romance.)

Hi! I'm so, so sorry this took me so long. I started writing it and I quickly passed 1,000 words, so I decided to just keep going. Thank you so much for the prompt! Also available on AO3. This is an alternate ending to Campaign 1. Read with music (I had this song on repeat the entire time).

Forever, and ever and Always.

Spring is Keyleth’s favorite season. Vax knows it as well as he knows the sun rises on the east and sets on the west, and that is why it is no surprise to him when she announces that she would like their wedding to take place in the Spring. Keyleth has had the ring on her finger for less than twelve hours, and her mind is already running with plans, flowers and decorations, and who does what. It would honestly be exhausting if Vax didn’t take great joy in watching his girlfriend – no, his fiancée – ramble with a grin on her face.

“I think we should do it in Zephrah. I appreciate Percy’s idea of holding the wedding in Whitestone, but it would still be snowing, and it could be troublesome.” She rambles, fluttering about the kitchen of their small cottage. “Do you think we can fit all our friends here?” She looks around for a second and continues, not allowing Vax to answer, “No, of course not. Maybe I can ask my dad if Pike, Scanlan, and Grog can stay in my old bedroom. Oh, but then where would I stay? We can’t see each other before the wedding. It’s bad luck.” Keyleth looks at him, outraged as if he was the one to suggest such a ridiculous idea. 

The ramblings only get worse as winter ends, and Vax finds himself surrounded by a myriad of white fabrics, which Keyleth says have distinct tones – they all look white to him – a large platter of different types of cakes and desserts, one of the walls of their cottage decorated with small strips of parchment in what Keyleth affirms to be the seating arrangement and a multitude of different flowers and bouquets that Keyleth druidcrafted herself on every available surface. 

“What do you think, snowdrops or dandelions?” Keyleth asks Vax as he returns home from an exhausting day at the temple, holding two different bouquets. He toes off his boots and crosses the distance to kiss her passionately, dropping his bag on the couch. She gets the message and blushes, setting the dandelions aside, “You’re right. Snowdrops are prettier.”

The day finally comes, not long after Keyleth’s birthday. Vax wears the traditional Ashari garments that Korrin offered him months before, in rich tones of blue and green, with red and gold accents, and tries to make his hair presentable as Scanlan stands behind him with a smile on his face. Percy is with Keyleth, of course – Vax wouldn’t dare suggest otherwise – and Vex is getting ready in their small guest bedroom.

“Nervous?” Scanlan rises to pat Vax’s elbow, who nods in response. “You can still run, I can polymorph you into a raven, and you can just… go.”

“Thanks for the offer, Scanlan.” 

Syldor was invited, and to Vax’s surprise, he accepted. He and his family, Devana and Vax’s younger sister, Velora, are set to arrive before the ceremony through the teleportation circle that Gilmore and Allura were so kind to set up in the center of Zephrah. Syldor’s presence is clear to everyone: he was only invited out of courtesy and because Vax really wants Velora to be the ring bearer. Vax has no desire to have his father by his side at the altar, nor wishes for his presence any more than what he has to endure. No, that role falls to the gnome clad in purple behind Vax. 

—

Keyleth paces in her childhood bedroom in her undergarments. Pike finished her hair not long ago and ran out to grab something Keyleth doesn’t remember, and Percy is waiting in the living room, where she left him with her father, both dressed up for the ceremony. She would kill for some wine or ale. The anxiety that settled inside Keyleth when she woke up only worsened as the sun reached its apex in the sky. She has always hated giving speeches, often feeling like the sounds coming out of her mouth are nothing more than gibberish, so she holds a piece of parchment tightly against her chest as she mumbles the words repeatedly.

“Keyleth,” Pike is back, handing Keyleth a glass of water, which she gladly takes. “You’ll do great.”

“What if I choke, Pike? What if I can’t speak loud enough or blunder my words?”

“Keyleth,” The gnome woman holds Keyleth’s hands in hers, and Keyleth feels a warmth spread through her as if being blessed by Serenrae herself. “It doesn’t matter if others don’t hear your words. The only person that matters is Vax. Today is all about you and him and your love for each other. Nothing and no one else matters.”

Keyleth is so very glad for her friends, for her found family. She would not be where she is without them and their support. Pike was tireless throughout the entire wedding planning, often lending her ear and opinion when Keyleth couldn’t go to Vax. Both Pike and Vex had gone with Keyleth to shop for dresses and held her hand and hugged her when she found the one. Above all, both women had been there every moment that Keyleth didn’t believe she could go forward without her mom. Keyleth might not have a mother to hold her hand on her wedding day, but she has two sisters who love her just as much.

—

Thanks to the magic of the Ashari, the howling wind surrounding the Summit Peaks does not have a significant effect on Zephrah. However, and it wouldn’t be an air elemental druid tribe otherwise, there is a slight breeze in the air, carrying the sweet smell of cherry blossoms and the hints of summer. Friends and family – and frankly, the entire town – gather under the enormous cherry tree where Keyleth was given her mantle as part of completing her Aramenté a few years back, and Vax smiles at the familiar faces sitting in front of him, twisting his head to smile at Scanlan and Vex by his side as he stands in front of an arch of leaves and vines, highlighted with snowdrops and daisies, which was crafted by the elders of the council as a wedding gift to the Voice of the Tempest and her partner.  

As Kaylie readies herself by holding her flute against her lips, Vax notices the look of pride on Scanlan’s face as he admires his little girl. She plays a soft tune, signaling the beginning of the ceremony, and one by one, the crowd turns in their seats, looking at the goliath carrying a woven basket with flowers. There are a few snickers among those who don’t know Grog, but only one menacing look from him is enough to silence everyone. The goliath’s face opens in a grin as he walks down the aisle, adding white petals to the natural blanket of pink cherry blossoms that crunch loudly underneath his feet.

Not far behind Grog are Pike and Velora, the first holding a small bouquet and the second an intricate wooden box with two golden bands. Pike, who is just about as tall as Velora, takes the girl’s hand reassuringly as they pass by everyone, and when they reach the end, Pike takes her place to the side, and Vax bends down to hug his little sister.

“You did an amazing job,” He whispers before the small elven girl joins Vex by his side.

It is finally Percy’s turn to walk down the aisle, and he does so with all the pomp and circumstance of a member of a royal family. Vax sneers and shakes his head in amusement as his friend grins and reaches to hug him. 

“Be good to her. I know where you sleep,” Percy threatens with a smile before taking Pike’s side.

There is an eerie silence in the air, and Vax’s stomach flinches. It’s time. He turns his back to the crowd, feeling the muscles of his legs tremble in anticipation. Keyleth had asked him to wait until she was ready, so they had worked on a cue, and Vax knew exactly when to turn around. Not yet. He tells himself as loud gasps sound behind him. Not yet. He repeats it in his mind at Vex’s low oooh next to him. Don’t turn. He thinks, closing his eyes. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Vax hears the crunch of petals and the shuffle of movement behind him as someone approaches, and then there is silence again for a moment, leaving him hanging in expectation. A soft piano echoes around them as if the gods themselves are playing the melody, and Vex pats her brother’s elbow with a sniffle. So Vax turns around slowly, holding a breath. 

Keyleth stands at the end of the aisle. Everyone is already turned in their seats to look at her, crying and gasping at how beautiful she looks. She wears a long white dress, the bodice covered in different kinds of white flowers – real flowers, from what Vax can see – including snowdrops, roses, and daisies that cascade down the tule, spreading around the skirt and the hem of the dress. The sunlight reflects in Keyleth’s fiery hair, pulled back in an intricate Ashari braid decorated with tiny white flowers, her circlet resting atop her head, also decorated with flowers and vines. 

Vax’s mouth opens as Keyleth takes a step forward, one hand secured around Korrin’s arm while the other holds a bouquet of snowdrops, daisies, and greenery, like the arch behind him. Keyleth’s feet barely touch the ground – or so it seems – and there is an aura around her as if the sun is reflecting on her skin. She smiles at him with much more love and tenderness than Vax has ever seen anyone direct him, and, at that moment, he feels like he’s the luckiest man in the world. 

When Keyleth reaches the altar, Vax finally lets out the breath he had been holding as Korrin kisses his daughter’s forehead, whispering words of love and encouragement before he takes his place in front of the arch. 

“You look–” Vax tries to say, but the words falter as Keyleth’s bright green eyes fix him, and he says a silent prayer to the gods, thanking them for allowing him to be here with her. Keyleth’s hand finds his, squeezing reassuringly as she, too, cannot find her words. She doesn’t need to. They both know how much this moment means. The words are left unspoken but not unfelt.

“Dear friends and family,” Korrin speaks as the couple faces each other, their hands still holding tight between them. His voice is powerful and steadfast, and Vax sees the love and pride in his eyes, the twinkling of a tear in the corner, threatening to fall as he initiates the ceremony. “We gather here today to celebrate the eternal union of Keyleth and Vax’ildan as they bind themselves together by the traditional handfasting ribbons of the Ashari and speak their vows.”

Vax hears Vex sniffle behind him as Korrin continues the ceremony, and the corners of his mouth creep up in a teasing smile, even though she can’t see it. He did not have the opportunity to walk her down the aisle since she had decided to elope without so much of a warning, and he was still hurt by it. But she is happy, and so is the man that stands behind Keyleth, wiping a tear from his cheek with an apologetic look. Yet, Vax can’t stop thinking about that moment in his sister’s life and how it hurt to miss it. He wonders if she, too, felt the same way he feels as he glances at the two empty chairs in the first row where Elaina and Vilya should be. 

Vax looks back at the beautiful woman in front of him, who smiles softly as if she read his mind. Vax remembers a conversation they had months before, how he and Keyleth had sat down under this same tree and confessed to the other how much it hurt not having their mothers present at their wedding. They promised each other back then that, although there were physically absent, their presence would still be felt, and Keyleth started tracing plans to decorate their chairs. Snowdrops for Elaina, Daisies for Vilya.

“Keyleth, Vax’ildan, please take your hands and join them together,” Korrin gestures and Keyleth raises their still intertwined hands. There is a communal chuckle, as no one seemed to have noticed they had been holding hands the entire time. 

“You have been through many adventures. You have fought many battles together, but your greatest adventure is still to come. Keyleth, Vax’ildan, do you vow to join each other in this marriage?” Korrin asks as Vex hands him a small white box.

“I do,” They reply in unison.

“Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves,” Korrin takes an intricate woven ribbon from the box in tones of blue, red, and green. On one end of the ribbon is a charm with four triangles intertwined – which Vax recognizes as the symbol of the Ashari – and on the other is a charm of a mask surrounded by feathers and a raven skull – which Vax obviously recognizes as the symbol of his Matron. ���A ribbon of three strands is not quickly broken.” Korrin finishes, carefully placing the ribbon on their hands.

Vax’s heart jumps in his throat as Korrin explains the symbolism of the colors: green for the earth that binds them from the paths they have walked together; red for the fire that burns in their hearts and for the courage of overcoming their fears for the other; and blue as a representation of the challenge they faced in Vesrah together. 

“Your charms are a representation of who you are and where you come from,” Korrin continues, wrapping the ribbon around their intertwined hands and wrists. “The interlocked triangles of the Ashari symbolize your roots, as you are now part of our family,” Korrin smiles at Vax, who holds back a tear, “and the symbol of the Matron of Ravens the eternity of your love, for not even death can tear you apart.”

Vax’s gaze moves from their hands to Keyleth’s face, whose amused expression at her father’s words mirrors his. They have both died, Vax more than her, but their love brought them back stronger than before.

A raven feather falls just as Korrin starts to tie the knot, and he smiles, making sure it stays in place. Vax bows his head in gratitude to her for allowing him to stay, and a raven above their heads caws loudly, announcing its presence with the flap of his wings as it flies away from a tall branch of the cherry tree.

“Keyleth, your vows.”

“Oh gods, okay.” Keyleth gulps down the panic in her chest and takes a deep breath as Vax squeezes her hand and gives her a reassuring nod. “As we all know, I’m not very good with words, and I’m not very observant either. It took me a long time to figure out my feelings and even longer to overcome my fears, but your love was, and always will be, the wind underneath my wings, the earth that grounds me, the fire that warms my heart, and the water that washes away all my worries and anxieties. With you by my side, I know I will be better, stronger, and more confident. You inspire me every day, even though you can be reckless sometimes. You love so wholeheartedly and effortlessly, yet there is always room in your heart for more love and kindness. I am lucky to have you and to call you mine, and I want you to know that I will be by your side every day of your life. Besides, you know I’m in love with you, forever and ever and always, right?”

Both Keyleth and Vax’s eyes are filled with tears, and soft sobs and sniffles are coming from everywhere around them as their friends and family wipe away their tears. Vax’s throat constricts with how beautiful Keyleth looks, with how much he wants to kiss her. He does lean in, but Korrin stops him before he crosses the distance with a soft hand on his chest, pushing him back.

“Not yet,” They all chuckle wetly, tears falling faster. “Vax’ildan, your vows now.” Korrin pats Vax’s shoulder, who nods and takes a deep breath. 

“I never thought I would be here today. I could say I wasn’t supposed to be here today, but we all know that’s bullshit.” Vax’s chuckle is followed by Velora’s gasp and a soft laugh from his friends. “I was ready to die, and I did die several times, yet here I am in front of one of the most amazing and powerful women I’ve ever met. I’ve always been a lucky bastard, but meeting you was no luck. It was destiny. You taught me how to be better, to accept love from others and let them take care of me, and I would not be standing here today if it wasn’t for your love and dedication. Keyleth, I believe in you as fiercely as you believe in me, and don’t you ever forget that. I’m so very proud of you, and I’m so very grateful to have the chance to spend every day of the rest of my life by your side. You know I’m in love with you too, forever and ever and always, right?”

The tears flow freely now, not just on Vax and Keyleth’s faces but also on their friends’ faces. Somewhere in the first row, Shaun Gilmore holds a delicate purple handkerchief and dapples the droplets from his eyes. Next to him, an equally elegant Allura takes Kima’s hand, who isn’t as subtle in her sobs. The loudest is, undoubtedly, Grog, in whose hands is a handkerchief the size of a pillowcase. Regardless of whether they are close friends or less-known habitants of Zephrah, there is a wave of tears from everyone in the audience, for they have all, in some way or another, had the opportunity to witness the love and dedication that Vax and Keyleth have for the other.

“Keyleth,” Korrin’s voice is different, as if he, too, is trying to hold back tears. “Do you take Vax’ildan to be your husband, to love him, comfort him, honor and keep him in sickness and health, in sorrow and joy, from this day forward, until your drying breath?”

“I do.”

“Vax’ildan, do you take Keyleth to be your wife, to love her, comfort her, honor and keep her in sickness and health, in sorrow and joy, from this day forward, until your dying breath?”

“I do.”

Korrin hands Keyleth the end of the ribbon with the Raven Queen charm while Vax takes the end with the Ashari symbol, and he signals for them to pull the knot tightly, securing the raven feather within it.

“May your marriage ribbons draw your hands together in love, never to be used in anger. May the pledges you make never grow bitter in your hearts. You two are entwined in love, bound by all which brings strength to this union.” Korrin finishes with a soft smile. He nods gently at Velora, whose face opens in a grin, and walks closer to the older man. He gently aids Vax and Keyleth in removing the knot without untying it and places it back in the white box, handing it to Percy.

“Keyleth and Vax’ildan have also opted to exchange rings, a symbol of unity and completeness. Let them be a reminder of your love and the vows you have taken here today.” Korrin bends down to take the rings from the little girl, who promptly runs back to her sister, preening for a job well done. He hands Vax the soft golden band that the couple picked, something simple and symbolic, and asks him to repeat his words after him.

“Keyleth, with this ring, I take you as my wife. I promise I will love you forever, and ever and always.” Vax slides the ring on Keyleth’s finger with ease, smiling brightly.

“Vax’ildan, with this ring, I take you as my husband. I promise I will love you forever, and ever and always.” Keyleth says back, her smile as bright as his.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife.” The couple looks expectantly at Korrin, who sighs and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Go on, kiss her.”

Vax chuckles and leans in, placing one hand between Keyleth’s shoulder blades and the other on her lower back, and, without a warning, he dips her back and kisses her longingly as cheers and claps erupt around them.

This is a great feeling. Vax feels like his entire life finally has a purpose. He knows his job is not over yet, and will never be, but for some reason, the Raven Queen has allowed him to stay and be happy with the ones he loves. He can’t contain his joy as he faces the crowd, now standing in an ovation. He can’t help but mirror the smile on their faces, the tears of happiness that fall down his cheeks. Vax can’t contain a look of surprise as he sees his father stand proudly, clapping his hands with tears in his eyes, or at the nod he gives him, and how he mouths, that’s my son. There is still a long path to traverse between them, but this is the first step.

Keyleth pulls him into another breathless kiss, and as they break apart, she leans her forehead to his. Vax knows from how she looks at him that more than luck, she is his destiny, and their love is stronger than the gods themselves.

Dress Inspiration

[gefdreamsofthesea]

I would also say with regards to setting rules for your deck: you can modify your deck. This includes:

1) Trimming borders

2) Edging the cards in whatever colour you want

3) Adding text to a card

4) Altering the images (I know one person who loves the Druidcraft but was very distracted by the nudity of the Hanged Man who has a dick shaped like a banana, so they gave him shorts)

Your deck your rules

🔮 Absolutely random, assorted facts from my experience with Tarot:

You can set rules with your deck. Don’t like reversed cards? Don’t pull them. Don’t interpret them. Request not to get them. Don’t care about the position of the card and want only its meaning? Ask for it.

You can pull confirmation cards. If you are working with a companion, you can set up their personal confirmation card. If you’re working with the deck and the general universe, you can pick a feel-good card (or a rare card if you want) and request it whenever you want to get a vibecheck.

You can repull. If it feels weird, it probably is weird. If you keep pulling the same card all over again, it’s probably correct. But if you pulled one weird one that just doesn’t seem like it belongs, repull. Your deck - your rules.

You don’t need to sweat too much over “official meanings”. So what if the Tower means “something bad”? If it means something positive for you, go with your feelings first. Each practitioner will have their own associations with the cards. I for one quite like the Tower, but I genuinely hate getting the High Priestess. It’s individual.

You don’t need to work with a specific Deity, spirit, or daemon. The cards are powerful tools without any additional presence.

You can assign a deck to a particular entity. I have four decks, out of which three belong to (a) companion(s) of mine. This is completely individual and fully relies on who you want to touch your cards.

You can confuse the cards. When the reading starts to feel like it just reiterates your feelings, it probably is. Or you worded your question badly and the cards don’t know what to tell you. Or you already know the answer. Or maybe something else.

You might be turning your spread into multiple spreads. If your session with tarot can be broken into a number of smaller sessions, you are probably overworking yourself. It helps to step back and think whether or not your multi-card spread turned into a multitude of smaller spreads. Is that why nothing is making sense?

You might be told to read cards some other time. Bias, moods, instability, or the cards just being not in the good state - all of these can affect whether they agree to work with you in the first place. I’ve had decks that stayed “silent” for months on and decks that were willing to work with me every day. It depends.

P. S. One more time: this is just my experience. It is not universal.

[yashley]

do I need to see fearne excited and hopeful to return to the feywild to see her wonderful bedroom with all of her treasured trinkets and her several beloved fey friends again, looking from the faces of her new companions only to turn and see that her home* of ninety years had been a distorted illusion of disarray scattered with figures fashioned from scavenged junk. and the love and laughter and company she clung to her entire life had all been another lie.

[psychicdamaged]

lines from vox machina that took me out instantly and still live rent-free in my head

"Percival. Sweet Percival."

"your sister lives, Percival"

"do not go far from me"

"Do you think this is what mother saw before she died?"

"It’s going to be all right. Pike is here, it’s going to be all right, it’s going to be all right. Gil?"

"take me instead you raven bitch"

"You are a good person and I have always seen that. Please see it, please. Oh god, my heart is breaking."

"I do not work in wood. I am not brave enough for that. There is a comfort in iron, a promise of safety, a second chance if mistakes are made. But a city is more a forest than a sword. No, it needs more tending than that. Perhaps a city is like a garden, then."

"sometimes breaking is making, even iron can start again, and there are many things that move through fire and find themselves much better for it afterward."

"I love you. If I can find you, I will. If not, stay alive."

I hear the voice of my mother in the morning. “Fuck you.”

"but if he's gone forever I won't be the same"

"I was gonna ask you what your mother’s name is." / "It was Juniper." / "I’m sorry I didn’t know that."

"Well that's just it. I'm a really good liar."

"all we found of her was her leg" / "that means she's still alive"

I think back to Percy's workshop in Greyskull Keep. And I say "I love you too."

"I have a feeling she's pulling our fate strings, anyway. ...mine's connected to yours. Where you go, I go."

"I am here because I have completed my Aramente, and I have come for my blessing." / "Yes, you have. I just wanted to hear it from your lips."

"You look like mother right now. You do."

"And I thought that was it. I had ruined it. But before dawn, she came back, she unrolled her bedding, and she went to sleep, and woke up the next morning and said "what's for breakfast, Dad?"

"Promise me you'll come back with me, no matter what." / "I promise."

Vax is watching, frozen.

"Where's Vax?"

"I thought you died. I watched you die." ... "It's a trick. It's a trick of the feywild."

He's physical. He's cold. But he's there.

"Look. Look at me. Just remember. Whatever happens, remember me. That's all that's important."

"I remember. (softer) I remember. See? It's all up here. So whatever happens, keep me there. All right?"

"She'll probably outlast you, but while you're around, keep her company for me?"

"What if there comes a day when I don't even recognize the name Vox Machina anymore?"

"And you- you're not going anywhere."

"Is that my girl? Is that my baby girl?"

I grab Kaylie by the face and I say to her: "Goodbye."

"Bless. Shaun! It was an honor knowing you."

"Forever and ever and always." I steal what I assume is my last kiss.

I'm going to use a bonus action to look over my shoulder and see everyone that I know. I'm going to see my sister and her husband. I'm going to see the woman that I love. I'm going to see Grog. I'm going to see Arkhan. I'm going to see my friend Scanlan.

You all take a moment to imagine what you've lost, what you've gained. Everything has led to this moment. And in the quiet and the stillness, you hear a new sound. It's thousands and thousands of distant voices cheering from the city of Vasselheim below. Of wyvern and eagle riders above you. But a small example of the hundreds of thousands of lives you may have saved.

I walk to step in between. / In between the two of them? / Yes.

"I'm not ready." / "You're ready for your people." / " Not without you."

"I'm going to go visit my mother, and I'll see all of you again."

"Thank you for trying." / "I wish I could have done more." / "You did everything"

"I never had a greater friend than you."

"I feel like she's taking part of me away." / "I will bring it with me to remind me of you."

"I don't know how to live."

I use the druid cantrip Druidcraft and grow snowdrops out from where I stand, out to all of my family. Out to where they stand. "S.H.I.T.s, thank you. How lucky I have been to have had all of you. How lucky, indeed. Thank you."

In the darkness of her cloak, you see a brief light, and it's brighter for you. As you walk forward, you see reaching from the light the dark hair, the fair skin, and the wide smile of your mother, Elaina. As she greets you, she says, “I'm so proud.”

"I still count you as my sister." / "As I count you as mine. Going to have to look out for each other now." / "Yes."

"I think I really miss my family."

"I think we're all broken, Percy." / "I'm so tired of hurting people."

"The brightest and the darkest. To Vax."

"I think the most free I've ever been is with you."

"I think we should rebuild the families that we've lost." / "There's so many names."

"I don't have to appreciate this. Especially not after what I've seen. But I do." / "You need to." / "Only because of what I've seen."