#he really has a skill to make everything sound so otherworldly

[paivazenbriha]

hozier will hear a song and be like "is anyone gonna add some hauntingly beautiful wailing to this" and not wait for an answer

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

On Rising Swells

Part Seven of The Pirate AU. As always, 18+ for this series. No smut in this one, but they do take off their clothes for plot(?) ~4.4k words

You expect more to change, after finding out that your husband has strange, unexplainable magic running through his bones, after finding out that he died.

But nothing does, not really. Kori brings your dinner to Jason's quarters, you fall asleep alone, and when you find the courage to make your way above deck in the morning, there isn't a hint of blood on the wooden planks.

Jason keeps his distance, at least his version of distance. He lingers just out of your space, pretends to occupy himself with coiling lines and inspecting the horizon.

The crew treats you as if you've never left, as if an entire ship of soldiers weren't slaughtered in your name. It's almost overbearing, but Rose's lessons with your dagger and Roy's endless, friendly jokes and easy-going conversations lull you into a routine.

The Outlaws' ship is by no means small, but with only so many places to go and Jason's inability to be unaware of where you are, you're not surprised that within a few days he finds his way back into your bed as the moon rises. You should be more upset when he lifts the covers carefully, and oh so slowly, wraps his arms around your middle to pull you back against his chest.

But you can't find it in yourself to be mad, not really. His affliction, as otherworldly as it seems, kept him alive. And for as hurt as you want to be over being on the outside of another secret, what has its clutches on your heart is how much you missed him.

You missed his warmth when you were in Central City. His kisses across your skin. His sweet words and adoration and eyes that shine at you like you hold all the secrets of the world between your fingers.

You missed your husband, so if you trace his scars after his breathing evens out in the night and thank whatever higher power has healed his wounds time and time again, it is no one's business but your own.

The days pass to weeks as you settle into place. You relearn which knot is less likely to slip when you work high on the mast, you find your sea legs during a particularly nasty storm that cracks lightning across the ominous clouds.

You find out exactly how many rounds of ale, wine, and rum you can handle as Jason and his crew spins and sings tales of their adventures.

Their stories no longer seem so tall now that you've seen evidence of magic with your own eyes. The words they share about glowing stones, demigods with impossible strength, and sea monsters no longer ring as falsehoods or myth.

You can't help but be fascinated by Donna's whispered memories of her childhood, of the island made entirely of woman warriors that sound like they come from legend. You're equally enthralled by Roy's stories of Atlanteans and the sorcerers he's met who can command water and sea creatures with just their minds.

But skills and stories aren't the only things you've taken to committing to memory. It's your husband, Jason, who takes up most of your thoughts and time.

The sound of his laugh rings in your ears long since it's faded from the air. The feel of his hand steady on your back lingers even after he moves away. The smell of the sea and leather and something so uniquely him fills your bedsheets even after he's slipped from your side to navigate his ship through choppy waters.

You study him, when he's occupied with shouting orders to his crew, when his back is to you and all you can see is the foreboding red of his hat and coat that sends even the bravest of sailors to a state of panic.

He feels like a mystery sometimes, with scars even he fails to remember where or how he got.

But his breath still shallows the same when you press a kiss to his shoulder. His eyes still darken and focus completely on you in the moments before he drives you into seeing stars. He still kisses you like you're everything he's ever really wanted.

Weeks at sea with him have proven one thing over and over again, Jason Todd is still your husband, and that means he still feels like home, no matter how your doubts fester and curl in the pit of your stomach.

And you've found that you like being at sea, the adventure it brings. You like the crew and the friendship they've offered you. You, though you would never admit it out loud, like Jason. You like that he treats you the same as when you had first gotten married.

You like when he calls you treasure, when he says it as if you're truly the most precious thing in his possession.

You know all this, but you can't seem to stop yourself from darting closer and closer to the ship's railing, eyes fixed on the dark, churning water below.

All of this is true, and all of this you know. Even if it isn't perfect, you're the happiest you've been in years.

The world is at your fingertips, a pirate lord is at your beck and call, and the ships maps have been plotted for an island with sandy beaches and a secret lagoon that Jason swears has the most beautiful waterfall you'll ever see, and he can't wait to see you try jumping from its cliffs.

There's yelling behind you, shouts of your name and pleads, and your brain vaguely catches the word 'sirens'. In the back of your mind, you know that means something, but all you can really focus on is the mesmerizing song filling your every sense.

"Come closer," it– they– the water tells you. The voice is a symphony of everything you've ever wanted, all your innermost desires and longings in the cadence of Jason's.

A part of you knows that doesn't make sense. Jason went below deck to fetch you a heavier coat to stave off the chill of the impending storm, the wind that whips and bites at your face. But logic doesn't rule your mind at the moment.

"I can give you what you want," the ocean sings, and you listen. You don't feel the desperate hands grabbing at the back of your clothes as you launch yourself over the railing, all you notice is that there's suddenly no surface beneath your feet and that the voice– voices in the water are pitching with glee.

The fall is quick. A rush of air against your skin, and then you're freezing. It's enough to shake you from your trance for a moment, for you to realize how much danger you're in, for you to know that no matter how sweet Jason's voice is, it's not really him.

You have just enough time to be grateful you're not wearing the heavy layers of your old dresses, before the symphony of melodies starts again, surrounding you and drawing you back under their spell.

The waves crash over your head, cold fingers brush over your ankles, threatening to pull you down beneath the sea, but you aren't afraid. The song is beautiful, it whispers soothing promises of a pretty garden filled with roses and flowers you've never even dreamed of before.

He– they– sing about the life you were going to have, the life you did have. It weaves ballads of sunrise and sunsets while you lay on silk sheets and you swear you can see all that it's vowing to give you just below the surface of the water.

So you reach for it, draw in a deep breath and swim down and even as your lungs burn and vision blurs, you kick and claw and beg for the chance to just brush your fingers over the tune that's hypnotized you so completely.

The human-like shapes that dart around you aren't important, the bell-like laughs and dark dots that start to take over your vision don't mean a thing.

The voices lament poetry of promises of your future, even as your world starts to go black, "A family," they sing, painting you a picture of Roy, of Artemis, of Kori– the entire crew grinning and reaching for you, "You could be so happy with us."

A hand caresses your face, and the water itself seems to smile at you, beckoning you closer. You think you're about to reach it, you just need a little more, just one more second and everything you've dreamed of since the night you first lost your husband will be yours.

But it doesn't come. What comes instead is an arm around your waist, hauling your head back above the waves. You think you scream, or maybe the sea wails at the loss of you. You kick your feet, shove at the body dragging you through the water and away from the voice.

"Treasure," the voice– no– Jason snaps at you, "It's me, it's me. Stop fighting."

You sag for a moment, confused and exhausted. The song still has a hold on your mind, still has you wanting to dive back below the waves.You were so close, and if he could just let go of you, you could sink back down to where all your desires are waiting for you.

You suck in a breath, soothing your aching lungs as you try to find the energy to fight him. But something stops you.

Just pass his shoulder, a face bares its teeth at you. It's beautiful, with eyes reminiscent of crystal and diamond, but your every instinct screams danger. The thing– the siren lunges at you, and you bury your face in your husband's shoulder for what seems to be the last time as you wait for it to drag you below the waves.

But the siren never touches you. You're hauled into the air instead, Jason's harsh curses filling your ears, as he grapples with keeping one hand on you, and one on the rope tugging you both to safety. You feel nauseous as you scramble to grab onto Jason, digging your nails into the fabric of his shirt to try and steady yourself.

Rough hands grab you once you near the railing, pulling you on deck as you cough water out of your lungs. The hypnotizing melody still hums in your ears, though it grows weaker, you still have the urge to follow it, but Jason's warmth against your side keeps you grounded, even as the ship rocks precariously in the rising waves.

Your throat burns as you sink to the ground. You didn't realize how much salt water you swallowed. Boots pound on the planks around you, gun shots occasionally sounding as the crew shouts at each other, but Jason doesn't move his body from yours. You don't look at him, can't.

You're almost embarrassed, ashamed to have been so desperate for a past you can't go back to that you fell for the siren's cursed song. You knew it wasn't him, that the Jason you married doesn't exist anymore, you just didn't realize how much of a hold that memory still had on you.

You feel even colder now that you're out of the water. You've lost one of your shoes to the sea, and your clothes stick uncomfortably to your body.

Jason says something. You can feel the vibrations of his voice against you, but you don't register the words. He presses a kiss to your temple. It makes your throat tighten. You almost died and, in turn, almost got him killed.

He stands, helping you up on your shaky legs before carefully passing you to Kori. He says something again as you slump against her, you catch the word 'tea' and 'just need a moment', before his presence is gone from your side.

You force your gaze to his back as he leaves. He's soaked, hair matted and dripping. There's claw marks torn into the back of his shirt, down his pants leg, but no sign of blood or injury. The sight makes you all the more nauseous and ashamed.

Kori turns you away from him and guides you below deck, towards the galley. She only stops to let Bizzaro wrap your shivering frame in a heavy blanket. She helps you sit, before flitting around the kitchen, and neither of you speak until she's pushed a hot mug into your hands.

You fidget, reeling, and eyes downcast. Your mind clears more, now that you're out of the air that seemed to vibrate with magic. You remember how you wanted to watch the storm clouds roll in over the horizon. How a soft lullaby started to fill the air, just after Jason left you to go below deck, and how the crew laughed over song.

'Pointless,' Roy had said, grinning and fearless, 'Siren magic can't touch us.' But it had certainly affected you.

"Why didn't anyone else jump," you ask quietly, almost uneasy to hear the answer. You wait for Kori to tell you that you're weak. That you were never meant to be among a crew of ruthless, but none the less talented pirates.

She says none of those things, just sits herself at your side, uncaring that you're slowly creating a puddle of sea water on the bench. "Oh, that would be Garth's spell."

You run a quick mental check, and, no, there's definitely no Garth on this ship. You huff, frustrated at yourself and your own lack of information, "Who's Garth."

She hums, absently mindedly, reaching out to push at your mug, encouraging you to drink, "He is known as Tempest, he sails with The Titans."

She waits for you to drink before continuing, "They owed us a favor, so he cast a spell on us that nulls siren's music. It's a boring story compared to what I usually tell you, no?"

"The Titans," you mumble, taking another sip of the tea. The Titans are familiar enough to you, a group of treasure hunting adventurers that've occasionally taken out some rather dangerous pirates. You think you recall them coming to Gotham once or twice, but you don't think you've ever seen their infamous captain Nightwing, "Why did they owe you?"

Kori pats your knee, eyes going a little sad, "There was… They had an issue with a mercenary. One we took care of. I suppose we forgot the spell's protection didn't extend to you. I'm sorry we didn't think of it and– I'm glad you're safe."

You open your mouth to wave off her apology with your own and explain that you should be thanking her for how much she's done for you, how at home and welcomed she's made you feel with her stories. (and maybe to pry into what mercenary could cause issues for a group like The Titans, who apparently have spellcasters within their crew)

But your words die in your throat as she continues to talk, plucking your empty mug from your hand to place it down, "But, you know, Jason never needed a spell. Even before, siren songs never affected him. He always said it was because he knew you couldn't be out here, that what they were promising wasn't real."

She smiles at you, then, warm and soft and fond, "It's easy to see why he loves you so much."

You think she's trying to make you feel better, and it almost works. You crave stories of your husband from the times you were without him, and it makes your heart ache to know how much he's really, truly loved you even after so much time apart.

But it serves just as much to make you guilty. Maybe you don't love him as much, or as strongly, if you were entranced by the spell. Maybe you're fighting a losing battle, by staying with him and his ship.

Your thoughts are cut short as the galley's doors are thrown open, and Jason, who you barely have time to note is still dripping with salt water, strides over to where you and Kori are sitting.

His eyes dart over you as he kneels at your feet, lifting your hands to rub some semblance of warmth back into your fingertips. "Does anything hurt," he asks gently, fretting as familiar worry lines crease his brow.

He raises your hands to his lips to blow warm air over your skin when you shake your head, his gaze not reassured of your truthfulness. You think he'd strip you bare right there on the table if not for Kori's easy, knowing smile over his mother henning.

She stands, pressing a kiss to your cheek and then one to Jason's, "Go dry off in your cabin, lovers."

Jason spares her a reluctant glance before focusing back on you, "But the storm–"

"Is something we can handle, Captain. Now go on, before they catch a cold," Kori nods to you on her way out the door, voice all light and teasing as she disappears down the hall. It's only then you start to notice that you've been shivering, the blanket nearly as wet as you are.

"Dry clothes first," Jason murmurs, eyeing your one boot. He scoops you up without warning, one arm under your knees and one across your back, to carry you through the door and towards his quarters. You hardly have the energy to protest, but you are aware enough to notice that his skin is warm to the touch.

"How are you not cold," you grumble, fidgeting with the threads of the blanket to occupy yourself. He seems to relax at the sound of your voice, but you can't quite pinpoint why.

He hums as he pushes open the door to his room, walking over to the bed to slowly sit you on the edge. He kneels down, removing your lone boot and making a face as you both watch the water that pours out of it. Jason pulls the blanket from your shoulders, tossing aside before answering, "I rarely get cold now."

He doesn't elaborate, and you want to pry, you do, but his fingers dip under your shirt, callused and hot against your skin. It's distracting in the nicest way.

He removes each layer of soaked fabric with a reverence that makes you want to melt in relief and cry in distress all at once. He peels the stockings from your thighs, a frown crosses his face at the faint scratches across your ankle. "You didn't mention these," he says, eyes snapping up to yours.

"I didn't feel them," you admit, honest. You don't remember losing your boot, didn't feel the claws that tried to drag you down. You just remember how much you wanted to swim deeper, follow the haunting melody that spun around you beneath the waves.

His gaze never leaves you, as he presses a loving kiss to your skin, soothing the sting of the marks, "I'll make it up to you."

That pulls you from your lulled state, and you knit your eyebrows as he begins to kiss his way up your calf, murmuring apologies, "It shouldn't have happened, treasure. Not to you."

"You're being ridiculous," You breathe out, reaching for the linens to cover your bare skin, "It was no one's fault but my own, and I'm fine, you pulled me out of the water."

His hands travel up your legs to rest on your thighs, not hiding his concern over the way you try to hide yourself from him, "My love, being affected by magic is not a burden for you to bear. Everything that happens on this ship is my responsibility. And that goes double for the one that's wearing my ring."

You lose your words at his reaction, his sentiments, unsure of what to do. Jason sighs heavily, wrapping his arms around your middle to draw you close, so that he can bury his face in your chest and listen to the beat of your heart.

You instinctively reach up to card your fingers through his wet hair. It's silent for a moment, and then he exhales shakily, "I thought you had– I was afraid, treasure, when you weren't where I had left you. I couldn't– all I saw were those things trying to lure you further from the ship."

You squeeze your eyes shut at his words. You knew, of course, that Jason was the reason you were alive, safe on board his ship. You knew he was the reason you didn't drown, left to be a meal for the mythical sirens. You knew that you both could have died.

But it's only now that you're settled, out of harm's way and on his bed that it really registers that he'd jumped into the stormy tides after you.

You wonder if he hesitated. You wonder if he doubted, for even a moment, that you were worth the trouble. You know it's unfair, and you can't find the words to ask, so you open your eyes to look down at him. "You're still soaked," you say instead, pointing out the obvious and letting your hand fall from his hair.

He laughs a little, pressing a kiss over your heart, before standing to strip out of his own sea-matted clothes. Jason doesn't bother dressing as he guides both of you towards the center of the bed. You can tell he has half a mind to just lay on top of you, to keep you shielded on the off-chance there's magic still controlling your mind.

You're grateful that he doesn't. He tangles his legs with yours instead, as you lay on your side, and he presses his forehead to yours, eyes blown wide, but so intently focused.

"I can't lose you again," he tells you, one hand pressed firmly against the small of your back, and the other curled around the nape of your neck, holding you steady.

"I don't have the strength for it, treasure," he whispers, voice lowering as he searches your eyes for something, though you can't begin to guess for what. His words are familiar, heavy, and you find yourself wanting to say the right thing.

"I have nowhere to go," you try, hoping your words are what he's looking for, "and I want to see that island you promised me. Santa Prisca, right? With the best rum of all the isles?"

You think you got it wrong, that he might be disappointed, when his arm leaves your waist so he can cup your face, "Darling, you know you can rely on me for anything. Whatever you saw down there, whatever they promised you, I'd find a way to give it to you. You know that, right?"

"I know," you say softly, almost overwhelmed by the sureness of his voice, the firmness of his gaze. Flashes of the life they showed you rear their head in your mind's eye. The garden. The roses. The sunrise on your skin. A family. Him as he was. The past and a future that seemed so secure ripped away.

"And if, treasure– if this isn't enough–"

You surge forward to kiss him, silencing his words. The ache in his voice, the anxieties in his eyes, every part of you wants to quell them. What the sirens showed you is unreachable, and for as broken and confusing as things are now, Jason Todd is your husband. Your vows, your love– none of that has changed even if both of you have.

You only pull away when the tension starts to fade from his body, "This is enough. What they showed me doesn't mean anything. It wasn't real."

He studies you for a moment, thumb brushing over your cheek, "What did you see, love? What called you away from me so desperately?"

"I don't remember," you answer quickly, maybe a little too quickly to be believable. But Jason doesn't press, only wraps you up more securely in his arms, warding off the chill of the ocean that lingers in your bones.

"The sea should calm tomorrow," he murmurs, pressing his face to the top of your head, "With the wind on our side we'll be shore side in a few days and you can try all the rum you'd ever want to, treasure."

It's an olive branch, you think, a way to let you keep your words buried in your throat. Jason would let you drift to sleep, pretend that none of this happened, and he didn't dive headfirst in danger for you, and you didn't lie about why you did. It feels wrong, cruel even, to not attempt to trust in him.

"There was a garden," you whisper like it's a grand secret, "filled with flowers I've never seen before. Some that I didn't even know existed." You know it's not enough, that there's no way he'd believe you'd throw yourself over the side of the ship for just the promise of some pretty petals.

But he smiles into your hair and starts to trace patterns across your back, "Flowers, huh, treasure? I can do that."

"I saw the crew," you breathe out, tucking your face against him to hide whatever weakness you're sure is painting your face.

"Aye," he prompts, dragging his hand tenderly over your spine, "Did you?"

"You were there, too," You say, speaking before you can second guess yourself, voice going even more hushed as the air seems to go still at your admission.

His fingers still on your skin before continuing their absentminded path, "Is that so?"

You nod against his chest, you almost feel lighter, freer, at peeling away some of the armor around your heart.

Jason nuzzles at the top of your head, and starts to press kisses down to your ear, "I am here. With you. That's not going to change." He pulls the blankets higher over your body as you melt against him, all your worries, wrongs, and doubts, quiet and locked away in the back of your mind.

His warmth, his touch, the steady rocking of the ship, and promises of new sights to see on calmer waters is enough to let you succumb to your exhaustion.

But even as you drift off, you can't quite escape from the memory of the siren's song in your ears. A family, they'd sung, an idea you'd never really thought of before, at least not past Jason. But they had sung it to you, pulled it, supposedly, from the deepest parts of your heart.

It nags at you, from the corner of your mind as sleep wins out, even with the steady sounds of Jason's breathing and his fingers soothing over your skin. And it almost feels like, maybe, they knew something you didn't.

[mochinomnoms]

When you posted about twst not having the same foods it made my brain go... "what if their bf really tried to recreate the food based on description only"

Imagine Azul toiling away in the kitchen trying to re-create Bugals from scratch

Jade testing out different combinations of potions to recreate coca cola

Floyd trying to make the grandma candy that taste like strawberries

Jamil fighting with spices to make hot cheetos

Trey baking Twinkees and oatmeal cream pies

Lilia trying to make Macdonald fries but just creating poison

They all understand how food can help with homesickness and they want to do everything they can to help, even if it is trying to make something they have never had before

The ultimate love language is devoting time, money, and materials to recreated your lover's favorite foods. In our world, this could be going to your partner's parents or grandparents to learn their family recipe for a dish, cookie, drink, etc. Or it could be trying to look up a dish that they had growing up, but can't remember. Or maybe it's a cultural dish from their home country that they loved but haven't been able to have because the ingredients are available nearby. Painstakingly measuring, making, tasting, failing and failing over and over again to get it just right. Love is the ultimate love language.

So I think it's beautiful to imagine Azul trying to recreate your favorite dish based solely how you described how it looked, smelled, and tasted. Making the lounge's kitchen a mess until he can get it just right.

Trey calling his parents to describe the sweet treats and cookies you described. They're digging through their recipes so that he can combine and take what he needs to recreate them.

Jade has full confidence in his potion making skills, yet is dumped when you can only describe your favorite soda as "sugary and fizzy." He racks his brain over and over, taste testing the concoctions himself until he's positive they won't poison you, then bringing you into his little sessions to remake your favorite soda together.

Jamil, familiar with some spices and chilies you describe, but the others sound so otherworldly, messing around with the ingredients he's familiar with to make your favorite foods and snacks. He knows they'll never be the same, but that he they are good enough for you to want to stay.

Floyd is nothing if not determined. If he can't make you that candy you love so much, he's going into the ends of the earth to find you his world' equivalent. Don't question how he managed to get over a hundred different candies, some incredibly rare, others expensive as hell. His father has connections and money, it's nothing to spend on you.

And Lilia…well. He means well. It might be better to let him watch you make some of your favorite dishes, as well as you can when you're missing ingredients. He can watch and slowly start to understand, as you burn and hiss from the splattering oil, why food is a love language for humans too.

Food is a timeless love language. If it doesn't mean time and effort, it means money and sharing an experience that makes you happy. It's shared by nearly every culture, in your world and theirs, for a reason. Love is giving food when you're poor, love is the cuts and burns on your hands and arms, love is in the taste on your tongue, love is the smell you wake up to. Love is the effort, the time, the care. Love is food. And they love you.

[tokoyamisstuff]

Spellbound pt. 2

Chapter 2: Parce Domine (Lt. "spare, o lord")

3,1k. words | f! Reader | pre-canon | slow burn | not proofread

[Previous Chapter]

"Where is it, bloody hell, where?!"

Anderson frantically searches his room for that particular bible among the many he owns, internally cursing himself for keeping his room so unorganized.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he tucks it from a pile of books, making it collapse. He opens it, shaky hands flipping through the pages until he found the page you wrote your number into.

A clever move of yours, in hindsight - any other paper he would instantly have disposed of, but he'd never dare such sacrilege as to throw away the holy scripture, couldn't even bring himself to rip out a mere page of it.

He's found himself admiring your handwriting, mutely pronouncing your name as his finger runs over the dried ink. You had additionally scribbled a little arrow towards one certain bible passage, along with a smiley and an exclamation mark.

! -> "Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you."

He grumbles loudly at your subtle provocation, but needed to swallow his pride for the situation at hand was dire.

At the very same time on a different continent, you were deeply concentrated with an experiment when you got startled by the ringing of your phone. Not many people have this number, and those that do certainly don't call with a suppressed number.

"Hi! Y/N here" you speak with a cheerful voice despite not knowing who it is, and Anderson can feel his heart pounding against his ribcage at the delicate sound.

For a while there's only silence from the other side, until a grim voice finally wrung out an introduction. "...this is Father Anderson."

A self-satisfied grin formed on your lips. If only you could see his face right now, he's probably seething at this humiliation of crawling back to you.

"Ohh, look who decided to call. And so soon already..." you tease, smugly leaning against your table. "To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"

You hear him take a deep breath, the gravity of his sigh a bit concerning. "...a child in my care is...sick, very sick through something otherworldly, but we can't identify the cause. We've tried everything, even our most skilled doctors and exorcists, but..." his voice is shaking in apprehension, "I'm...at my wits end here...what if the boy dies...I can't-"

"Hey." Your whole demeanour shifts immediately upon hearing this, tone stern yet reassuring. "Calm down, it's alright. We'll find a solution, I promise."

Anderson lets out a small whine, running a hand from his face through his hair before speaking up again. "Please, just...hurry..."

It took you half a day until you were close enough to teleport, already the midst of night when you draw the coordinates Anderson gave you into your magic circle.

The orphanage is almost empty as you appeared in a blind spot outside in the garden, sending the paladin a quick message that you had arrived. He came to pick you up almost instantly, a dissheveled mess of a man rushing towards you only to be taken aback by your appearance.

"What in the world are you wearing?" he speaks between grit teeth at the modest, almost pious clothing you currently had. Even a gold cross necklace adorned your neck, and he could barely hide the obvious disdain of using his religion as a disguise. But he bites back any argument due to lack of time. "I'm in the midst of enemy territory, did you really think I'd draw attention by looking like a walking target?"

The priest nods mutely at your reasoning, waving for you to follow him. As you walk unseen through dark hallways, he can't help but keep glancing over to you, unable to decide if he was irritated or astonished by the way you presented yourself.

Seeing you like that almost makes him forget that you were far from innocent. He can't believe his desparation drove him into doing this, putting the orphans at risk by bringing some evil savage like you here.

But then again, this orphanage is not only symbolically a spiritual place - it is enhanced by countless precautions to keep the underworld away. Yet you roam it so freely, without even the slightest effect or repercussion.

Deep down he knew the plain truth - it's because you weren't a threat.

"How is the child?" you cut through the heavy silence coating you two, and his expression turns pensive. "Getting worse by the hour. But see for yourself."

When you entered the small bedroom your heart dropped. A small and frail boy, five or six years old at best had been tied hands and feet to the mattress. The noises he made were heartscattering, his misery causing you to let out a choked sob.

Anderson put on his usual strong and calm front as he walked over to the child, strained creaks filling the room as the massive man sat on the edge of the bed, exchanging a cold cloth on the little one's forehead. "We saved him from the fangs of an occultist a few days ago, and shortly after he fell into this state."

Your bottom lip trembles slightly at the sight, but you tried to keep it together. Not thinking about the impression it makes you pull out a small dagger from your sleeve, and without hesitation Anderson grabs your wrist roughly, twisting it just shy from painful. "Don't you dare try something, wench. I'm protecting these kids with my life, do you hear me?"

The paladin was on high alert ever since you stepped foot onto these holy grounds, and now all of those images Iscariot had indoctrinated him with were resurfacing.

One in particular, the old superstition that witches use the body parts of children to make their ointments.

"Darling..." The endearing term only adds to his fury, blaming himself for having been blinded by your innocent facade. Still, he automatically softens his hold when he sees your face grimace in pain. "Don't you think if I wanted to snatch a child I wouldn't have to go out of my way and come to the Vatican of all places?"

You drop the knife to the ground, looking at him and the boy with pleading eyes. "I just wanted to cut the ropes, I swear. They're unnecessary and cruel."

Anderson narrows his eyes at you before letting go with a frustrated growl, using a bayonet to cut the child free himself. You sit down way too close to the man but he wouldn't protest, since it means he can better stop you shall he not like anything you do.

"That's not a demonic possession, not entirely at least" you ponder, evaluating the black marks spreading like vines across the child's body. "It's a pact. The occultist wanted to use him as a human sacrifice...he asks the fiend a favor, and in return the boy either dies or the curse takes physical form eventually, causing a lot of harm."

Anderson angrily works his jaw, brow sinking deeper and deeper with every word you say - until he sees you tend to the child so tender and careful, genuine worry present on your face. Letting go of the tiny hand to put yours on the priest's shoulder, you try to raise his spirits. "I got this. Don't you worry."

He sees you rummaging in the small bag, to his confusion taking out way more things that could possibly fit in there. You let out an amused huff at his puzzled expression. "Pocket dimension, jealous? I bet carrying all those bayonets is really difficult."

It takes a while until everything is set up for the ritual, and Anderson already dreads how to explain all this stuff if anyone unexpectedly interfered.

You position yourself at the foot of the bed, while you sent him to a corner of the room, still wary yet trusting enough by now. "Oh, and Anderson?" Cutting deeply into your palm and letting blood drip onto the sheets, you look at the priest with a conflicted, almost fearful expression. "Yes?"

Your voice is filled with dread as you tell him your request. "Promise you kill me if things go south."

Although the mental image somehow made his guts churn like he had just been disemboweled, he wouldn't let it show. "...no need to tell me." You crack a forced yet hopeful smile at the man and continue.

The whole ceremony didn't even last a minute, and before Anderson could comprehend what happened - let alone if it succeeded - you collapsed to the floor, holding your face while screaming in agony. Instinctively he drew his bayonets, but then tossed them away and rushed to your side against all common sense.

"Hey, hey, talk to me!" He gently shook you as he called your name, but you remained paralyzed in pain. For a while he couldn't do anything but just held you firmly into his arms until your squalls ebbed down to breathless whimpers.

When you finally recovered and opened your eyes again, he was horrified to see the same pitch black that was tainting the child had swallowed your whole left eye. The iris is white and absent of a pupil, and yet he could still feel your soft gaze on him.

"Heh...heya there..." you chuckle weakly, and he can't help but mirror your smile in relief, reluctant to let you out of his grip just yet. "Oi, you scared me half to death.

"Sorry, sorry..." You blink heavily trying to adjust to the partial blindness on the left, only now realizing the position you're in. Wriggling your eyebrows at the man now that your usual smugness had returned, you sit up, positioning yourself in his lap.

Despite feeling his head spin at the indecent proximity, the priest's attention shifts to the boy again. He looks...better. Great, actually. All marks were gone from his body and color had returned to his cheeks. He was resting peacefully, finally able to give in to exhaustion after such a long period of torment.

"Thank god..."

"God had nothing to do with this!" you object with a sour expression, feeling like you're robbed of your credit. Anderson laughed heartily at the adorable sight, squeezing the sides of your shoulders ever so slightly. "Oh yes, he did. He sent me an angel to save my wee boy."

The word slipped his throat faster than his mind could catch up on and for a while you just stared at each other in disbelief. "...maybe" you mumble eventually, straightening your clothes and hair after standing up again. Seeing him so approachable and uncharacteristically happy for a change certainly did something to you, but you'd rather drop dead than to admit it.

Suddenly the door slams open and you both startle, leaping away from each other to gain some acceptable distance again. Two girls around their early teens bark in, visibly upset for their younger 'sibling'.

"Heinkel, Yumie..." The paladin speaks strict yet with a profound affection, "It's far late for you to be up. What are you doing here?"

"We-we heard screams and got worried" the more timid one of them explained, but the blonde was boring holes into your skull with her questioning glare. "Who's that?"

Anderson panicks briefly, feeling caught. "That's Y/N. She's..." He gazes over to you, sharp features softening briefly as he scans his mind for an answer. "...a-a friend. Yes."

Your eyes widen for a fraction but you're quick to play along to save his integrity. "Right. Your dear father called me to assist him heal your brother in faith. I'm somewhat of an...occult expert, if you may say."

That answer obviously wasn't satisfying their curiosity and they kept prying. "What oder are you from?"

"Oh, I tend to work alone..." You rub the back of your head nervously, pacing on spot. "I'm more of a consultant."

They both stare at you for a while, eyes darting between you and the father until they notice the soundly sleeping child. "So he's doing better?"

"The boy is completely healed." You smile gently as you reassure them, "He'll be alright." Hearing this the two practically rejoiced, rushing towards you as they riddled you with questions.

"That's amazing! How did you do that? What caused it? And why is your left eye closed? How long do you know our Father?"

"Heavens, girls..." Anderson shooed them away from you, adjusting his glasses as he scolded them. "Remember your teachings. Stop harassing the poor gal, we all need to get some rest now."

They pout a little, too excited to want to leave and yet obeying without question. "Alright..." one of them ends the sentence of the other. "...but will you still be here tomorrow morning?"

"I'm afraid not. Remember to study well and not cause your Father over here any trouble, alright?" You put one hand on each of their heads and they beam up at you with a pleading look. "But you'll come visit again, won't you?"

"W-Well...I-I don't think that's-"

"Who knows" Anderson interrupted your pathetic struggling for words, "She's a busy woman, but she'd be thrilled to come when she's needed. Or am I wrong?"

You choke on a gasp for a second when he looks at you as if that was an order and not a suggestion. "I-I mean sure, yes...anything to help..." Oh, he'd definetly get payback for this.

That compromise seemingly placated the already yawning tweens and they finally trotted towards the bedchambers again, leaving you alone once more.

"What sweet girls..." you say dreamily as you look after them, beginning to laugh. "And so well-behaved. I almost can't believe you raised them." Only almost, though. That blunt stubbornness surely didn't fall far from the tree.

"Silence" he speaks between grit teeth, but they hint a small smile beneath. "Don't you dare getting too cocky, little witch."

"Did you truly mean what you said earlier?" You then give the man a side-glance, unbelieving that he'd seriously want to associate with the likes of you. Actually you were prepared to never hear from him again after this was over, lest allowing you to step foot on here ever again.

He crossed his arms in front of his broad chest, scoffing as he internally finished his moral debate. "Why not? After all, you're a frie- ally" he corrects himself in time.

Your lips curled into a crooked smirk at his revelation, yet you didn't want to push his buttons too hard. "I think I might need some fresh air..."

Anderson safely guides you out of the orphanage, away from any watchful eyes until you finally drop on a nearby bench. He keeps a watchful eye on you, face twisting in sorrow when you look up to the starry sky.

Despite everything, you still look like a surreal piece of art.

The priest sighs as he plummets down on the other end of the bench, looking anywhere but your face. "So..." he finally dares asking, though dreading the answer. "What about your eye?"

Leaning against the backrest, you let a hand run over the closed lid. "There was no way to purge the curse, so...I absorbed it instead." You turn to look at him, cheerful and appeasing. "I just need to keep it in check. I'll make it work somehow, I always do. Hell, I bet I even find a way to use it to my advantage. You just wait!"

The paladin faces the floor, arms resting on his knees as the familiar weight of guilt begins to settle in on his shoulders. "Why didn't you ask me on your stead?" You didn't even know this child, but you knew doing this would cost you this greatly.

Again, you just didn't make any sense at all.

"Too risky" you brush it off, waving in a dismissing gesture. "I doubt anyone would be able to stop a behemoth like you if the curse overwhelms you."

"...I honestly don't know what to say."

"How about 'thank you' for a start?" you laugh as if your sacrifice meant nothing at all. Your stoic friendliness despite the circumstances was almost deterring.

Anderson's mind keeps wandering back to what he's been conditioned to believe in without question - that witches are eldritch devil worshippers, capable of heinous evils.

But a person caring so deeply, so selflessly to protect an innocent soul cannot be completely corrupt, he concludes.

"Thank you, Y/N, truly" he speaks in a meek whisper, until his voice becomes more firm as he convinced himself to believe in you. "And I need to apologize too, I...misjudged you."

"No worries. Actually, you're full of pleasant surprises as well!" You pat his back lightly and the touch sents a shiver down his spine. "Didn't think you to be a children's man, for example."

"Heh. And I didn't think you'd be the type to fraternize with catholics."

"Touché." You snort, fondling with the cross dangling from your neck. "But I don't despise christians, I'm very fond of any believers in general." Organized religion that tries to twist their god's teachings for personal benefit, however... "Us witches believe in unison of all humans. Our philosophy is benevolence, unraveling the wonders of this and other worlds, and using this knowledge to aid others...so I'd personally call myself a researcher more than anything."

He nods at your exposition and tries to bite back any snark comment lying on the tip of his tongue. "Why are you telling me all this?"

"Well, I was wondering..." You shuffle closer, stopping only when you felt him becoming uncomfortable. "...what limits you could break if you let me enhance you. I could give you equipment or teach you some spells. Imagine how freely you could move if you can summon those bayonets instead of carrying them in your coat, for example."

Anderson raises an eyebrow at you, his lip twitching in mild distrust. "And you're gonna do this out of your great pagan altruism?"

"Exactly...well, not completely." You poke his chest and he lets out an irritated huff. "You're gonna let me know the secret behind your regeneration."

"Oh please, I couldn't tell you even if I wanted to. Not even I have access to those kinda documents." You grin almost devilishly as you continued to persuade him. "Doesn't matter, I can figure it out myself. I just need you." That wording made the fine hair in his neck raise into goosebumps. "Also, you pretty much owe me one."

Right now it felt like he was offered a contract with something demonic, and it frightened him how close he was to give in. "And I will set my face against anyone who turns to mediums and spiritists to prostitute themselves by following them, and I will cut them off from their people." (Leviticus 20:6)

This again. Ugh. "Your regeneration ability also isn't standard nature. As are our conjurations. It's all science at the bottom line, or god-given, or whatever you want to call it."

"...let me think about it."

Gotcha.

"Well, you know how to find me, darling" you coo and he feels his resolve crumbling, the sound of your voice a witchcraft in itself. "You wouldn't be the first cleric to accept enlightenment."

[Next Chapter]

[greenerteacups]

I was going through your advice on good writing like "Oh, that write-consistently-even-if-it's-bad-and-eventually-the-skill-will-develop-like-a-muscle thing sounds exactly like Brandon Sanderson" and you mentioning him right in the next paragraph just hit me like a brick in the face. It always does when one person you appreciate and respect for what they do mentions another such person (the wildest one was seeing Sanderson's book in Henry Cavill's instagram)

Thank you! I have mad respect for Brando Sando, and probably would even if I didn't enjoy his books, because that man seriously goes to bat for young writers. He cares about us so much, and it shows. He doesn't pretend that having skill will magically make you successful. He freely admits that the literary market is a weird, chimerical beast with wildly oscillating appetites and nobody really gets why one thing sells and another doesn't. He straight up says, like, "I am a one in a million success story, please God do not base your career expectations on me." But then he goes on and tells you everything he knows, so if you do want to do what he did, goddamnit, he's gonna try his best to help you. (He filmed and uploaded his entire creative writing course at BYU to YouTube! For free!)

What's most meaningful to me personally is that listening to him made me realize there's nothing mysterious or otherworldly about being a Published Author; it's a career, like anything else. It's a very cool career! It's wonderful to share your work with others! But it's also just that: it's a job. It's work. The primary difference between an author and a writer is that one has to worry about marketing. I think that a lot more young writers would have healthier expectations for themselves, not to mention better relationships to their work, if more successful authors were as vocally honest and kind as Brandon Sanderson is.

[apompkwrites]

reader impact || first meetings: adventurer edition

series masterlist characters: amber, bennett genre: fluff summary: a game has been released entitled genshin impact, consisting of otherworldly abilities relying on the basic elements of nature. the game follows the story of an interdimensional traveling twin in search of their other half. along this journey, they meet different characters that live in this world. including you. notes: i decided to put these two together since i've already done one for diluc!

amber's playthrough -

amber's more of an outdoorsy type of person but that doesn't stop her from streaming!

she likes doing camping streams where she just camps out in her backyard and shows her chat what she would normally do. and the occasional cooking stream to show how you can make good foods healthy <33

she has a little bunny that she shows on stream sometimes :))

there'll be some days where she just sits at home talking to chat about her day while playing with her little baron bunny.

she plays games occasionally, but their mainly adventure type ones that mimic the lifestyle she holds.

like minecraft, rust, any survival game really.

she's still very energetic so any stream of hers is just bustling with excitement.

she'd probably host some streams where she teaches basic survival techniques?? idk man i don't go out much AIHSDASHLDKJ--

anyway anyway, she got a bunch of requests asking her to play genshin ofc.

i mean?? cute game, cute models, cute characters, and aDVENTURE.

i feel like she'd go with the male traveler solely because it isn't very practical to go exploring/adventuring in a dress?? like girl's over here genuinely thinking about real life scenarios.

anyway she's sitting there after finding dvalin's corrupted tear and the cutscene plays.

she's there vibing with chat and her little bunny by her side because of course they'll be sitting there while she plays.

"hey you! stop right there!"

"aCK!"

please she screeched when you yelled at her--

and then she squealed when jumped in front of her character.

pLEASE

the camera showing off your cute little headband mimicking animal ears makes her melt.

and then you jump from the little cliff and you have to stumble to regain your balance?!?!??!

PLEASE YOU'RE SO CUTE

"may the anemo god protect you, stranger! i am (name), outrider for the knights of favonius."

catch her copying your little salute.

"they're so cute!!!!"

she will point out the animal ears constantly.

and then your vision has a cute little ribbon at the end of it!!!!!!

"just! just! just look at them!!"

and then you join her party officially!!!

please she switches to you automatically--

she'll just jump around for a few minutes to watch all your accessories bounce around.

and she can just tell that your story would be a delight to read about.

when paimon mentions her mc's missing sibling, you sound so soft and caring and just aGH.

and then she gets to try out your elemental skill and it's the aNIMAL THAT YOUR CHARACTER'S HEADBAND IS BASED OFF OF!!!

if it's a bunny she would definitely find a matching headband she can wear when she plays :00

her chat's usually a really sweet place to vibe and hang out but of course, there's gonna be those kinda people.

she catches wind of some people badmouthing you and calling you the worst character in the game >:((

she's not too keen on banning people for their opinions so instead...

"hey, guys, can we just have fun with this game? if you don't like how i'm playing you can always just?? leave??"

please girl's fuming inside but she's trying her hardest to be nice about it >:((

back to you <3

she'd get another pet that matches yours and name it after you or your elemental skill.

she'd find ways to copy your outfit too ngl--

she'd definitely cook your signature dish!!

gotta make it all cute for you <3

bennett's playthrough -

ah yes, our unlucky baby boy bennett <3

like amber, he really loves adventures!!

he's still pretty unlucky for some reason???

idk man he's just vibing and his bad luck says too bad,,,

he's kind of a baby streamer if you catch my drift?

like he's new to everything so he's just trying to figure it out.

he used to be in a streamer house but... yeah.

we don't like them anyway, it's fine.

unlike in the game, bennett's bad luck didn't bring the other members harm, it was just... little inconveniences i guess.

but he left so now he's all on his own!

he's kinda inexperienced in all of this but he's trying his best!

for now he's sticking to gaming because that's a majority of what he knows.

lots of survival games!!!

and, sadly, luck-based games.

his chat just wants to see if his luck impacts games!!

and it does,,,

luckily they request genshin, which has the best of both worlds.

bennett's got all of the adventuring and his chat gets to see his misfortune in action.

sadly you don't appear in the main archon quests so bennett actually goes a long while not knowing who you are :((

veterans of the game, however, know exactly who you are >:))

first, they'd help show you off by posting links to your splash art in his chat.

bennett, being the baby he is, just clicks on the links without a second thought.

and he's in aWE!!!

LOOK AT YOU!!! LOOK AT HOW COOL YOU ARE!!

"woahh!! who are they? can i meet them soon?"

cri

they tell him he has to roll for you and he's sad, but only for a bit!

at least you're not an exclusive character because if he were, he thinks he'd have no chance at getting you :((

but he can get you whenever!

anyway, one stream he's rolling because he's stocked up a bunch of primogems (which took a long time) and he's like might as well use them up now.

he gets a lot of weapons :(((

he's basically dedicated his whole team to c6ing his characters he has now because he "knows" he won't get a good character.

luckily the pity systems exist so he gets the occasional four star <33

so he thinks it's another character he already has, so he's very prepared to get another constellation in.

he's looking through the trash weapons and then splash art appears!

"wait... i recognize that--"

IT'S YOU.

HE WASN'T EXPECTING IT BUT IT'S YOU!!!!

"THEY'RE HERE! THEY'RE REALLY HERE!!"

his chats hyping him up as he's running around his room because they love him <33

please i love this boy with a passion.

he'll put you in his team automatically with all of his c5/6 characters asdhaklsf

he doesn't even care you get everything and anything he owns in the game <3

"this is your team! it's really cool! i'm (name), leader of (name)'s adventure team! is there... do you think we could team up? i-it could even be just once!"

"they're staying on my team forever."

he loves you so much.

not just because you're a cool character but because he can relate to you--

anyway, he goes to your voicelines because that's the only time he can actually hear you fully :((

he's genuinely excited to learn about your story.

and then he learns that you have extremely bad luck too???!?!?!?

please y'all can be unlucky together!!

would that cancel out or just make you more unlucky??

huh.

he gets all sad when he hears you talking bad about yourself so he's here to reassure you (even if you're a fictional character).

[tigerkirby215]

5e Shaco, the Demon Jester build (League of Legends)

(Artwork by Evan “Somnicidal” Monteiro. Made for Riot Games.)

I hate Shaco I hate Shaco I hate Shaco I hate Shaco I hate Shaco I hate Shaco I hate Shaco I hate Shaco I hate...

Honestly Shaco is probably the most Roguish character in the D&D sense because he hides before jumping out and stabbing you while you’re distracted. I mean hell he even has an ability called Backstab. Despite the fact that Shaco has no lore and playing against him makes me want to punch someone it was merely a matter of time before I did end up making him. Just... Try not to be too annoying as him, alright?

GOALS

Look... behind you - Like I said: Shaco is probably the trademark Rogue in the D&D sense because he’s actually sneak attacking you.

For my next trick, I'll make you disappear! - Invisible jack in the box to scare you? How about invisible murder clown to scare you?

March, march, march, march! - What’s more fun than one Shaco? Well I’d say zero Shacos. Shame there’s now two!

RACE

Shaco doesn’t have a race because Shaco doesn’t have lore. I swear if the Kender were out already I’d make Shaco one but since he’s a demon or whatever Glasya Tiefling works well enough I suppose. You get +2 to your Charisma and +1 to your Dexterity and Hellish Resistance for resistance to Fire damage. Oh and you get Darkvision too.

Finally your Legacy of Malbolge gives you Minor Illusion as a Charisma cantrip at level 1, and more spells as you level up. But you can use Minor Illusion to scare people with weird sights and scary sounds, or just make Jack-in-the-boxes. Honestly Thaumaturgy would’ve been arguably better but the other spells you get are better overall.

ABILITY SCORES

15; DEXTERITY - Dexterity is good for handling knives.

14; CHARISMA - You need Charisma to be scary in 5e, which combined with the +2 from our race gives us a nice 16 to start of!

13; CONSTITUTION - Put simply we don’t need anything else much, so more health is good.

12; WISDOM - You need Wisdom to know how to scare people.

10; INTELLIGENCE - No lore means no intelligence. Or is it the other way around?

8; STRENGTH - You’re a wormy little clown man, and we simply need everything else more.

BACKGROUND

Shaco doesn’t have any lore, and while I’d love to cop out and say “fuck this character pick whatever you want” Volstrucker Agent is a good background to give your rogue a bit of otherworldly magic. (But ya know maybe talk to your DM and give your character a proper backstory.)

You get proficiency with Deception and Stealth as well as a Poisoner’s Kit and a language of your choice. You also become in-tune with a Shadow Network of demonic assassins you can speak to by writing magical letters with special ink. Or not: depends on your DM really. I’m just giving you a background that works for a character with zero lore!

(Artwork by Wang Xun. Made for Riot Games. For whatever reason all my friends keep getting this skin as an option for Hextech Crafting.)

THE BUILD

LEVEL 1 - ROGUE 1

Starting off as a Rogue for good ol’ proficiencies in skills like Acrobatics, Intimidation, Insight, and... look you should probably have Persuasion really. But feel free to take skills like Performance I guess. You also get Expertise in two of those skills: Stealth will help you be sneaky and Intimidation will help you be scary! (But leverage how often you’ll be using Intimidation in your campaign.)

Additionally you learn Thieves’ Cant, for a secret demonic language only you and other Rogues can speak. But really what we’re here for is Sneak Attack to deal an extra d6 of damage if an ally is near the enemy you’re stabbing, or if you’re stabbing them in the back (with advantage.)

LEVEL 2 - ROGUE 2

Second level Rogues don’t need Flash because they have Cunning Action to Dash, Disengage, or Hide as a Bonus Action.

LEVEL 3 - ROGUE 3

Do you want to be a scary clown who can stab people without getting hit back? Then Swashbuckler is a good choice for you! You have Fancy Footwork to move away from melee range without provoking opportunity attacks, and Rakish Audacity lets you backstab foes who are alone.

Rakish Audacity also lets you add your Charisma modifier to initiative to get in place for a good gank! And finally you get Disguise Self once per Long Rest thanks to your Legacy of Malbolge, and your Sneak Attack increases to 2d6.

(Artwork by Augusto Quirino & West Studios. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 4 - WARLOCK 1

Feel free to take the 4th level of Rogue for an Ability Score Improvement but I felt that getting our spooky demon clown abilities in order was necessary. So what a better way to get Fiendish powers than with the... Fathomless Warlock? Feel free to choose another Warlock subclass if you want it but there’s a reason we’re going for Fathomless.

That’s because Tentacle of the Deeps will serve as a decent replace for our Jack-in-the-Boxes, if you don’t mind them moving a bit on their own. You can summon a very visible and very untargetable tentacle within 60 feet of you as a Bonus Action, and every turn after that you can make it hit your enemies as a Bonus Action. If they strike they’ll deal a d8 of Cold damage and slow your foe down by 10 feet. And like I said: you can also move the tentacle up to 30 feet before making it attack with your Bonus Action. You can only have one tentacle up at a time, and can summon a number of them equal to your Proficiency Bonus per Long Rest.

You also get Gift of the Sea for a 40 foot swimming speed and the ability to breath underwater, I guess. And finally you get Pact Magic! You learn two cantrips from the Warlock list like Eldritch Blast to Eldritch while you Blast and Mage Hand for some trickery at a distance. You can also learn two 1st level spells like Hex and Cause Fear to... cause fear... Honestly we don’t need much from the 1st level other than Hex, and we’re going to replace these spells as time goes on.

LEVEL 5 - WARLOCK 2

Second level Warlock get Eldritch Invocations like Lance of Lethargy to put a slow on your ranged dagger throw, and... I dunno Armor of Shadows isn’t that bad. Honestly all I really needed was Lance of Lethargy.

Speaking of things we don’t need: there aren’t many other 1st level Warlock spells I’m interested in, so I’ll instead comment that you can cast Invisibility once per Long Rest.

LEVEL 6 - WARLOCK 3

Third level Warlocks get to choose their Pact Boon and sure Pact of the Blade would give you knives but Pact of the Tome is kinda just better overall. You can learn 3 cantrips such as Thaumaturgy to make some scary sounds, Guidance to pretend to be a support, and Vicious Mockery to be annoying and target enemies in a way that can’t be negated by high AC.

You can also cast second level spells like Mirror Image for more Shacos, and Misty Step. For Flash! Not that you need it.

LEVEL 7 - WARLOCK 4

4th level Warlocks get another Ability Score Improvement and what’s funny about this build is that you can actually choose which stat to increase depending on how you want to build Shaco! Want to go for AP with better dagger throws and boxes? Increase your Charisma! Want more damage with your knives? Then go for Dexterity!

You can also learn another spell but we’re going to wait a bit. Instead take the Prestidigitation cantrip for more magical pranks to scare your foes. Or your friends! (Don’t scare your friends.)

LEVEL 8 - WARLOCK 5

5th level Warlocks can learn 3rd level spells like Summon Shadowspawn, which as long as you can pay 300 gold for the component will serve as an upgraded form of your Jack-in-the-Boxes. That’s because their Dreadful Scream ability can fear everyone around them! Oh and a bunch of other abilities worth mentioning that you can read in the spell. Alternatively if you want to CC a whole group of enemies take Hypnotic Pattern to lock them in place while you take them out one by one!

Also by this point you can probably replace Hex and Cause Fear with like... Fear and Gaseous Form? Because something something Pact Magic.

You can also get more Eldritch Invocations like One With Shadows to hide in plain sight (well, as long as you’re in the dark) and Tomb of Levistus in case you need a Stopwatch.

(Artwork by Zuoan Dong & Kudos Productions. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 9 - FIGHTER 1

A three-way multiclass? This is truly MADness! Regardless Fighters get a Fighting Style at level 1 and I’m going to suggest Dueling. Why not Dual Wielding? Well your Bonus Action is taken up by a lot of other things, for one. And because Dual Wielding is bad. So grab a Rapier and a Shield instead because remember: flavor is free.

Oh and speaking of too many Bonus Actions: Second Wind will let you heal as a Bonus Action!

LEVEL 10 - FIGHTER 2

Want to stab some more? Second level Fighters get Action Surge to take an extra action on their turn. You can still only Sneak Attack once per turn but you know what you can do with your extra action? Cast two spells! So summon a Shadowspawn with your first action and then jump in, stab your foes with your second action, and run away with your Cunning Bonus Action!

LEVEL 11 - FIGHTER 3

Third level Fighters get to choose their Martial Archetype and if you want another Shaco Echo Knight will provide! You can use your Bonus Action (again) to Manifest Echo within 15 feet of you. After you make the clone you can move it around for free and it lasts until it’s destroyed or you dismiss it with your Bonus Action.

Your clone has AC equal to 14 plus your proficiency bonus and you can attack as if you were in its spot. You can also swap places with it as a Bonus Action to further confuse your foes! Well I say confuse but they do know which one’s the real you...

At least you can Unleash Incarnation to make your clone make an additional attack a number of times per Long Rest equal to your Constitution modifier.

LEVEL 12 - FIGHTER 4

Speaking of Constitution modifier: why not bump that up a bit with the Resilient Feat for Constitution? +1 CON and proficiency in CON saves so you won’t lose Concentration!

LEVEL 13 - FIGHTER 5

5th level Fighters actually get some Attack Speed with a whole Extra Attack! I mean yeah you could’ve probably done better with Booming Blade at this point, but isn’t two stabs much more fun?

(Artwork by Wang Xu. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 14 - FIGHTER 6

Maybe if you’re going to level 20 more levels in Rogue would be better, but I’m just going to grab +2 to Dexterity here.

LEVEL 15 - ROGUE 4

Finally back to Rogue town! Is your Dexterity maxed out yet? If not increase that. If it is then Charisma is right there!

LEVEL 16 - ROGUE 5

5th level Rogues can use their reaction when attacked to make an Uncanny Dodge, lowering the damage by half. I mean sure by this point it’s probably not that useful overall (especially since you or your clone could make an Opportunity Attack instead), but at least your Sneak Attack now does 3d6!

LEVEL 17 - ROGUE 6

6th level Rogues get Expertise in two more skills! Take it in Acrobatics and honestly? You really want expertise in Persuasion at some point.

(I had to at least show off one of Shaco’s uglier skins. Artwork made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 18 - ROGUE 7

7th level Rogues get Evasion! Sick of getting clipped by skillshots? Now when you succeed a Dexterity saving throw you take no damage! Oh and your Sneak Attack now does 4d6!

LEVEL 19 - ROGUE 8

More Ability Score Improvements? That means you can max out your Charisma modifier!

LEVEL 20 - ROGUE 9

To be at the peak of annoyance you require some Panache. As an action, you can make a Persuasion against a creature’s Insight check. If you succeed and the creature is hostile to you, it has disadvantage on attack rolls against targets other than you and can’t make opportunity attacks against targets other than you. This effect lasts for 1 minute unless one of your companions attacks the target, or until you and the target are more than 60 feet apart.

Oh and you know: maybe ask your DM about using Intimidation for this instead. Idk.

If you succeed on the check and the creature isn’t hostile to you, they regard you as a friendly acquaintance. Of course they’ll stop thinking you’re just a funny clown if you or your companions do anything harmful to it. And yeah perhaps this isn’t impressive as a level 20 capstone, but at least your Sneak Attack does 5d6 now?

FINAL BUILD

PROS

Just a little bit closer! - You have insane area coverage between your echoes and your “Jack-in-the-Boxes.” You can be everywhere at once and strike all your foes at once too!

How about a magic trick? - Crowd control tied with your positioning strengths is incredibly useful. Your tentacles slow and you can cause fear with many of your abilities, herding the crowd for your allies to deal with them.

This will be fun! - You also have a surprising bit of team support with Guidance and strong ability checks along with your magical utility.

CONS

The joke's on you! - You only have one Bonus Action, and you have a lot more than one Bonus Action with this build. You’ll often be choosing between your tentacles, clone summoning, or Cunning Action. That does tend to happen when you’re everywhere at once.

Why so serious? - A three-way multiclass obviously hurts your viability in the earlier levels, with a lot of your abilities being subpar at lower levels. Of course this doesn’t matter if you’re playing in a Tier 3 campaign, but if playing Shaco at a lower level perhaps choose to focus on either Warlock or Fighter instead of doing this three-way MADness.

Here we go - The other thing about mixing three classes is that your capabilities with each individual class will be somewhat lacking. Summon Shadowspawn will fall off late as will your other spells, as good as utilities like Misty Step and One With Shadows is.

But I suppose it doesn’t matter that you’re MAD, as long as you have options to get the job done however you want! Remember that my builds are always open to reinterpretation, and especially when talking about a character like Shaco you’re free to do just about anything. As long as you’re playing with the party and aren’t being too annoying you should be fine. And you’re a clown, so whatever you’re doing will be funny!

(Artwork by Victor “3rdColossus” Maury. Made for Riot Games.)

[the-melting-world]

IX. The Hermit | Shelter from the Storm

Asra x Reader

Enjoy these daydreamy highlights from Asra’s Route! Masterlist

In-Route Prompts & Options Selected Prompt: “We should go home and rest.” Options: “We should go to the shop” / “We should go to the palace” Prompt: He wants to introduce me to his oldest friend Options: I’m happy / I’m nervous *Coins* Prompt: “Don’t tempt me” Options: “Come lay by the fire” / “Don’t take too long” Prompt: Asra can’t look away... Options: “Like what you see?” / “I must look a mess.”

~ 1.3k words

****

As you and Asra approach Vesuvia, you see that there are red storm clouds brewing over the palace minarets. When you start asking questions, Asra hesitates.

“We should go home and rest.”

You wonder, is Asra simply deflecting? Or is he being genuine about the two of you needing all of your rest and wits about you when you come before the Countess? In the end, you decide to take him up on that offer instead of suggesting that you head to the Palace.

The two of you take the path through the forest. Somewhere along the way, Faust appears. You’ve never seen her so chipper as she greets you and Asra. Not long after, the air grows heavier and it begins to rain. Asra says that the two of you can wait out the storm at his friend’s place.

Suspicious, you think. Who lives all the way out here in the middle of the woods? There’s not really time to probe him with questions. The worsening weather forces the two of you to run through the rain, hand in hand, while you leap over roots. Asra calls forth a floating glow-orb to light the way.

Asra, who is grinning and enjoying this more than you or Faust, wheels you out of the way of sudden downpour of water from a canopy of leaves overhead. Close one.

The two of you huddle under a dryer tree to take a break. “We’re almost to my friend’s place,” he says as he glances around, as if he’s getting ready to do something.

“How come I’ve never met this friend?” You tease him.

Another one of those glimpses of sadness flickers across his features before he mumbles, “He’s not much of a people person.”

Before you could press the issue any further, Asra is drawing you in and humming contentedly as he bathes your cheeks and chin in the rainwater clinging to his own. Then he kisses you for real and you kiss him back, guiding his spine against the trunk of the tree that shelters you both from the rain.

You blush at the soft smack of lips when the two of you finally break apart. He gives you an encouraging smile and pulls you out from under the tree. He leads you to a hut made of stone, pulsing in magical wards that Asra takes some time to unlock.

You enter the hut and it’s like night and day. The protective stone walls and the woodsy dryness in the air is a stark contrast against your cold, soaking bodies.

Once again, Asra gives you the chance to test your elemental skills. Your spirits lift at the opportunity to help him get warm instead of the other way around.

While you conjure the flame needed to warm the hearth, Asra explains the spell that his friend is under and the reason why you’ve never heard of him. You process what he tells you and… it’s so sad, is all you can think.

You assure Asra that you’re happy about meeting his old friend. And you are, truly.

This seems to put him at ease. He’s excited about the two of you becoming friends as well. Muriel is his name.

As much effort as you’ve put into getting the fire started, you’re still cold. Before you know it, you’re snuggling up under Asra’s arm. Still it’s not enough. Asra promises to be back with more wood. You decide to shed some of your wet layers in the meantime.

You’ve pulled your shirt over your head when you realize Asra hasn’t left. He’s still at the door, staring at you in a way that makes you forget the two of you were ever roommates. Determined to keep the moment from becoming any more awkward, you stretch out beside the fire, tip your knee towards the ceiling and add a slight arch to your spine.

“Did you leave something behind?” You meant it as a joke, but then Asra leans his back up against the door for support and lets his heavy gaze slowly drift over your body. He shakes his head once.

“Don’t tempt me.”

There is a slight purr behind each word, altering his usually airy voice.

Before you can stop to think about what it could lead to, you beckon him back towards you.

Asra’s purple eyes turn to magenta flame as he comes and lies down beside you. Soon his arms are wrapping around you and his forehead comes to meet yours.

“Oh, you’re so cold” He chides. In a way, it almost sounds like he’s blaming himself. You play it off. It’s not that serious and besides, you don’t really notice the cold. You raise Asra’s spirits again with a little game of footsies. But it doesn’t last long before Asra’s tilting your head back and filling you up with his warmth. He’s determined to warm up every part of your face. Carelessly, his lips move over your blushing skin. Every spot he greets spikes heat at your core. Now he’s onto your neck. You whimper in confusion when he suddenly breaks away.

“Let me get some of these clothes off.”

Asra mutters something else – something about the furs while you’re lying on your back, trying to catch your breath after all of that. How can he manage to busy himself with some household task seconds after bringing all of the heat in your body to the surface? You take a moment to swallow and try not to stare too hard at him while he’s taking off his clothes and hanging them over the fire.

Asra muses, “If we weren’t in my friend’s living room right now, we could…” he lets the thought linger in the air.

You lift an eyebrow. “We could what?”

Asra bites his lip and breaks eye contact. He shakes his head, chuckling, “Nothing. Forget I said anything.” Soon he’s back with a massive, smoky gray bundle of fur.

Whoever this Muriel person is – he better not come through that door. You’re too wrapped up in heaven under these furs with Asra, listening to him recall a time when he used to yearn to be close to you like this. The two of you help yourself to more kisses, the slow and lazy kind. You could stay like this forever…

It seems as though the same is true for Asra. He can’t take his eyes off of you.

“Like what you see?” You ask, hoping he’ll give a little insight into whatever is going on behind those otherworldly irises.

Asra’s answer is immediate. He loves what he sees. He loves everything he sees in you.

But then he takes it back as if he’s said something wrong. You thought he was being sweet and playful, but now that you’re turning his words over in your head, you understand how they could be taken the wrong way.

But… even if you had registered his words that way, did it feel wrong?

As always in these strange moments, Asra finds something else to do. He gets up to leave and tells you not to open the door. Not even for him.

“Especially not for me. I’ll open it myself. If I can’t do that… it isn’t me.”

This gives you goosebumps because... what in the name of the gods was going on in this desperately dark and eerie wood? What could possibly be walking around wearing Asra’s face?

After Asra leaves and you’re still shivering over what he told you, someone enters the hut. It has to be Muriel, who else could it be?

Before you get a chance to explain yourself to this guarded fortress of a man, he takes one look at you and speaks in a way that reminds you of the sigils on his door – meant only to keep everyone out.

“You’re not welcome here.”

[carminite-wyrm]

A Kingsglaive Time Loop AU, Part 1

Nyx Ulric wakes up, the memories of a burning city, of betrayal and loss, fresh in his mind. It is not the first time that he wakes this way, and it won't be the last.

Or: Nyx has a very, very bad time.

Now with a Part 2!

Nyx gasped awake, the scent of ash and burning flesh, and the sound of war and ruin still fresh in his mind, a burning ember of phantom pain deep in his chest. He lay there, eyes quickly taking stock of the room he was in, a room that was so familiar to his senses, a room that he could have sworn should have been reduced to so much broken rubble, like the rest of Insomnia. He could see the fading curtains, the walls that were slightly cracked, the photos of his family and friends. By all appearances, this was the same damn apartment he’d lived in for nearly the past decade, down to even that one corner where it would always leak when it rained. Off to the side, he could see his phone, the date and day clearly marked upon it. The day that the ceasefire, and the peace treaty, had been declared.

He slowly ran his fingers over the worn fabric beneath him, the soft texture slowly easing the rapid pace of his heartbeat. He finally managed to drag himself into a sitting position, and lifted his left arm into the thin strip of sunlight that managed to peek through the curtains. There was no sign of the magical scarring that had crawled up his arm like wildfire, when he had put on that damn ring. His arm moved freely, none of the pain he still remembered slowing him down.

With a groan, he stumbled to his feet, shaking his head as he tried to dispel the…dream, it had to have been a dream, one born from that crippling loss that had nearly seen him lose Libertus, alongside the other fellow brothers and sisters in the Kingsglaive. There was no way everything had been real, even if there were elements of reality to it, such as that damnable giant daemon that had nearly been the cause of Libertus’ death. Now that he thought about it, really thought about it, away from the panic and adrenaline of oh shit everything is going to hell and the King is dead and so was-

Yeah, there was no fucking way any of that was real. It had felt real, sure, but Nyx was pretty damn sure that rationally, there was no way the King would have deigned to give him of all people the all-powerful ancestral ring that held together the shield over the city, and much more to boot. After all, didn’t the King still have people like Marshal Leonis, who definitely had the proper skills and strengths to guard something as important as that? Not some random Glaive who was in the process of serving out yet another punishment for insubordination.

Feeling almost like he was a ghost in his own body, Nyx decided the logical thing to do was to find Libertus and Crowe, his two best friends. Not just because he wanted to make sure they were fine, of course, but also-

Oh, who was he kidding, the dream – and yes, it was absolutely a dream, Nyx affirmed to himself – had in fact rattled him enough that he wanted to hug those two for at least an hour.

As he stumbled out of his apartment, blinking at the sunlight above him, he tried to remember where he was meant to be going, where he would be able to find Libertus and Crowe at…around midday, now that he checked his phone. His phone buzzed then, from where he had haphazardly crammed it into his uniform pocket. Taking it out, he smiled slightly at the message, which turned out to be from Libertus, and handily reminded him that they were meeting up in one of the training grounds.

Nyx tucked the phone away, and decidedly pushed aside the little part of himself that quietly reminded him that this was exactly how things had played out, in the dream. He still had to hold himself back from desperately clinging to Crowe and Libertus like his life depended on it, when he finally met up with them, though he did still give them both a slightly calmer hug, to their surprise.

That dream was just a combination of recent trauma, his own over-active imagination, and also probably more trauma.

Right?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thirty minutes later, he was watching the news report about the coming Peace Treaty with Niflheim, the other Kingsglaive around him murmuring in discontent. As Commander Drautos -and how could he be a traitor, how could any of them be traitors- debriefed them, Nyx found himself having to hide his hands in the pockets of his uniform, the phantom urge to reach out and just end the man keeping him on edge the whole time, to the point that he almost missed Crowe being called away for a separate assignment.

Two days after he had woken up from that terrible dream, he watched as Libertus stormed away, the death-glazed eyes of Crowe staring up at him from inside the bodybag.

And on the 16th of May, four days after that dream, everything fell apart.

Nyx screamed wordlessly as he watched King Regis die at Glauca’s hands, the scene identical to the one he had dreamt, as Lunafreya spoke words that almost fell on horror-deaf ears, that only registered because he could almost speak them word for word himself.

He stumbled as the King’s magic disappeared, only kept upright by the fact that he already knew, somehow, what it felt like to lose that connection, the steel-spark buzz of power fleeing from where it had lain within him.

He received Drautos’ call almost in a fugue, his words echoing those from his dream. And it was only the memory of that dream that meant that the bullet from that traitorous bastard Lazarus only went through his arm, instead of through his shoulder, though the shock of it still had him on the ground. He mouthed the words Lazarus spoke, as he gloated, as he was goaded by Lunafreya into putting on that ring.

Libertus ramming into Drautos- no, Glauca, with the car, nearly made Nyx laugh out loud, it was so ridiculously accurate it felt like it was scripted. And when he faced the old Kings of Lucis, in that otherworldly time, it was only the faintest sense that he needed to save Libertus and Lunafreya, no matter what, that stopped him from cackling hysterically in the face of those reticent ghosts.

Nyx died with burning scars tracing up his left arm, with the rising sun in his eyes and the ruins of a dead city behind him.

And then he gasped awake, the scent of ash and burning flesh, and the sound of war and ruin still fresh in his mind, a burning ember of phantom pain deep in his chest.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

All in all, Nyx thought it was perfectly justified that he missed the treaty announcement, and the subsequent debriefing, curled up in bed for the past hour as he realised, truly, that this wasn’t all just a horrible dream. That he was indeed reliving the same five days, the five days that would culminate in the fall of Insomnia, the deaths of almost everyone he’d cared for, and his own death at the very end of it all.

The ringing of his phone had eventually stopped, if only because he’d thrown it haphazardly off to another end of the room, and probably broken it in the process. With that in mind, he absently gave himself another twenty or so minutes before Libertus or Crowe, or both of them, broke into his room demanding if he was alright.

Oh shit, Crowe.

He dragged himself off his bed, and stumbled over to his sink, as the image of Crowe’s corpse rose unbidden at the thought. He stood there, hunched over the sink, as he desperately tried to bring some semblance of rational thought back.

He just. Needed to make sure Crowe wouldn’t go on that damned set-up of a mission, the one that would have Luche -that fucking traitorous bastard- killing her for- For what, exactly? Luche had only talked about what Niflheim had promised him and the other traitors, after he had revealed what he had done.

Alright, then. Nyx nodded to himself, taking a moment to wash away the acrid taste of bile. Crowe first, everything else can wait.

He had four days, or three, if he discounted this one, before Niflheim would attack during that farce of a treaty ceremony. Four days to figure out how to avert disaster.

Nyx briefly entertained the thought of just, grabbing Crowe and Libertus, and heading for literally anywhere other than Insomnia, before roughly brushing it aside. No, he had a second, well, third chance, somehow. A chance to make things better, to make it so that no one (except those who really, really deserved it) had to die, so that the Empire wouldn’t be able to run rampant with their magitek armies and tamed daemons. And what sort of hero would he be, if he just ran away from that chance?

A sharp knock on his door, and the sound of it being flung open, had him spinning around in surprise, stumbling back into the counter in barely-concealed panic, before he registered that 1) it wasn’t a magitek trooper or some other sort of attacker 2) it was Libertus and 3) Crowe wasn’t with him.

Somehow, he had forgotten that Libertus had his apartment’s spare key.

“Oh shit, Nyx!” Libertus crossed the room with surprising speed for someone on crutches, eyeing how Nyx was practically trying to meld with the countertop. “When you didn’t pick up the phone-“

Libertus broke off with a yelp as Nyx grabbed him, half in a hug, half so that he could drag him in closer.

“Lib. Where is Crowe?”

“She’s off at some confidential briefing with the Commander, Nyx, are you alright?” Libertus managed to extract himself from Nyx’s grasp, giving him a once-over with a critical gaze. “You look- you look like shit, Nyx. And you weren’t at training. Do I need to get you to a doctor?”

“N-no. I’m…fine.” Nyx slowly inhaled, then exhaled, before trying to make himself look a little less like he’d just had a breakdown for the past hour and then some. “I am definitely fine. But I need to see Crowe.”

“Nyx, I’m sure it can wait.” Libertus sighed, filling a glass with water and passing it to Nyx, gesturing for him to drink it. “Me and Crowe covered for you during the briefing you missed saying you came down with something, though Commander does want a confirm on that. Though, man, you actually look terrible.”

“Just…had a bad dream, that’s all.” Nyx admitted.

Libertus raised an eyebrow, before shaking his head.

“You know that you can tell us anything, right? Anything that’s troubling you.”

“I…”

Nyx considered telling Libertus everything. Telling him about Crowe’s death, about the Glaives turning traitor, of Commander Drautos being that hated General Glauca, of the city burning under an Imperial onslaught, of the Old Wall and the old Kings. Of how Nyx had died.

But would Libertus even believe him? Nyx barely could believe it himself, and he’d lived it. Twice.

Libertus was one of his best friends, his brother in all but blood. But even so, he was fairly certain that Lib was probably going to check him into a hospital, at least initially, and he couldn’t afford to spend time trying to assure him of his sanity when he only had four and a half days.

“I’m fine, Lib. Really. Just had a bad dream, about Galahd.” Nyx paused, before he added. “And that giant daemon.”

“Oh.”

“Now, please, I need to meet up with Crowe.”

“She should be out of that meeting by now, I told her to meet up with us here, after I checked on you.”

Almost as if on cue, Crowe burst into the unlocked room.

“Oh good, you’re alive.” Crowe said, looking at Nyx and Libertus. “Wow, you really do look out of it.”

“Crowe!” Nyx swept her up in a hug, trying not to tear up.

“Hey, hey, Nyx. You good?” Crowe asked.

“You’re alive.” Nyx breathed, clutching her harder. “You’re alive.”

“I…am?” Crowe looked over at Libertus in confusion. Libertus shrugged, mouthing ‘Bad dream’ at her. Nyx instinctively lifted his middle finger at him, having caught the action even as he swallowed back his tears. “Look, Nyx, I’m fine, alright? Now, sit down, and let us catch you up to speed. Some shit’s gone down.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you are.” Nyx nodded, slowly moving to sit down. Libertus and Crowe both perched themselves nearby, Libertus taking the other seat, whilst Crowe leaned against the counter, wrinkling her nose at the mess in his sink.

“So…what’s happened?” Nyx asked, though he knew what it was they were going to tell him. But…well, he couldn’t just tell them how he knew that anyways, might as well give himself plausible deniability for some of his foreknowledge.

“Niflheim wants a peace treaty, at the cost of all other regions of Lucis besides Insomnia. And the King accepted it.” Libertus spat.

“There’s…not many in the Kingsglaive are happy about things at all. The general sentiment is that the King’s throwing away our homes.” Crowe continued. “On that note, the Commander’s given me a mission to recover the Princess Lunafreya from Tenebrae, I’m leaving first thing tomorrow.”

“No.”

Libertus and Crowe both turned to stare at Nyx, who was clutching the glass of water in his hands like a lifeline as he spoke.

“What-“

“You can’t. Crowe, please,” Nyx looked up at her, trying to convey the importance of his words, the desperation behind them. “Don’t go on that mission.”

“Nyx, I have to-“

“I don’t want to lose you, Crowe.” I don’t want to lose you again.

“Look, Nyx, you know I can handle myself.” Crowe patted his shoulder comfortingly. “Don’t let some bad dream get you all worked up, what did you dream of, me dying?”

Nyx dropped the glass, sending shards scattering across his floor. Distantly, he heard Libertus cursing, and Crowe…saying something, something that he probably imagined was supposed to be soothing, but couldn’t hear over the rising static as he remembered Crowe’s death, Libertus’ fury, Luche’s smug shitty face, Drautos half covered in that cursed armour-

Eventually, things slowly came back into focus, and he blinked as he looked up at Crowe and Libertus’ slightly relieved expressions. His neck ached, and it was only then that he realised that somehow, he’d gone from sitting in one of the terrible bargain chairs he had in his flat, to being on the floor, back pressed to one of the walls.

“You back with us, hero?” Libertus asked softly.

“Y-yeah.” Nyx croaked out, tilting his neck back and forth for a bit in an attempt to ease the soreness. “Sorry.”

“No, no, don’t be. Guess I must’ve accidentally hit the nail right on its head, then.” Crowe said, crouching down and slowly extending her hand. “Now, let me help you up.”

Nyx nodded, getting his breathing under some semblance of control, and he briefly closed his eyes, waiting until he felt calm enough to actually move.

He let Crowe hoist him to his feet, and went in for another hug, this time getting both her and Libertus in it. They gradually relocated to sit on his bed, Nyx practically wrapped around his two siblings-in-all-but-blood.

“You died, Crowe. You died and there was nothing I could do to stop it.” Nyx sobbed; the words slightly garbled considering his face was mashed into Libertus’ shoulder. “A-and Libertus left, and then everything just, went to hell and then some, the city was attacked-“

He broke off, unable to put the rest of what he’d seen and lived into words.

“Look, hero, you know what I’m capable of, right?” Crowe said reassuringly, after a silent minute, slowly carding her fingers through his hair. “Whatever it was that your subconsciousness cooked up, it won’t happen, alright?”

“It-“ Nyx choked up, the words he desperately wanted to say lodged in his throat.

“I’ve called you in as sick, so the Commander won’t be all up our collective asses when you don’t show up for duty for the rest of the day.” Libertus said, patting Nyx on the shoulder. Nyx felt like he should be flinching from that, even though he knew that there wasn’t any kingly power burning its way through his body. Yet. “Come on, you should get some rest. Proper rest, after I get you something to eat. I’ll be here, though Crowe needs to go prepare for that mission of hers. We can see her off in the morning.”

The meal that Libertus cooked up an hour later tasted like ash in his mouth, and as Nyx was herded to bed, he couldn’t help but think that he had failed, once again. But he couldn’t go after Crowe, not now, not when Libertus was already keeping a cautious eye on him, not when all they knew was that he just had a panic attack, and a dream terrible enough to spark it.

And on top of all that, he had no idea what to do now, not when he knew that Libertus and Crowe probably wouldn’t believe him at this point, not when he’d made everything out to be just a bad dream. He’d had some sort of grand plan, to convince Crowe to not go on that mission, in the hope that it’d derail at least part of the Empire’s plan, derail it enough to give him time to figure out how the hell else he’d be putting a spanner into the rest of their planned invasion.

That plan, at least for now, was in utter shambles.

Now that he thought about it, actually thought about it, there were so many things that would eventually lead to the fall of Insomnia.

Crowe’s death, which would fracture the Kingsglaive even further than what the initial ceasefire announcement had done.

Lunafreya’s arrival, and subsequent kidnapping, which would be the bait that would draw the loyal Kingsglaive to their doom at the hands of the traitors, and signal the initial attack on Insomnia.

The theft of the Crystal and the fall of the Wall, which, he still didn’t know exactly how that had even happened.

The whole mess with the – rebels? Faction? – that Libertus had joined the other two times, the ones who had bombed the signing ceremony.

The death of King Regis, which would inevitably ruin much of their chances to stop the invasion, because it would mean that no one would have their borrowed magic anymore to help them against the forces of Niflheim.

How to deal with those giant daemon weapons withoutbringing forth the Old Wall, an act that would cause a decent amount of destruction in itself.

And General Glauca, that traitorous Commander of the Kingsglaive who was, Nyx admitted, quite possibly the greatest threat to everything he held dear at this point.

He could deal with rescuing the Princess, having done it twice already. Could probably even deal with the traitorous Glaives, hell, he knew at least Luche and Tredd were in on it, and if he took those two out then the others would lose a good part of their leadership.

But how in hell was he going deal with everything else? Nyx wondered, not a little desperate, as exhaustion finally set in, and he fell unwillingly into a fitful sleep.

He woke again, sometime in the evening, eyes tracing the cracks along his ceiling as he tried to parse his racing thoughts. There was just so much to do, so much he had to stop or fix before the Empire burned the city to the ground.

Well, he eventually thought, a little sardonically, I could always just knock Luche out now, and maybe he won’t kill Crowe tomorrow.

He sat bolt upright at that thought, and tried not to fall out of the damn bed in his haste. He fumbled blindly for his boots, and looked around for something heavy enough to give someone a bad concussion. The frying pan hanging on the rack above the shitty little stove, still a bit damp after Libertus had washed it, looked like it would do nicely.

He couldn’t kill Luche yet, even if every bit of him really wanted to do so. It’d probably de-rail things to the point that his foreknowledge would be rendered completely useless, and he hadn’t yet come up with ideas on how to deal with the next few days to make that murder as feasible as he wanted.

But he could just. Make sure that Luche wouldn’t be able to kill Crowe, or at least he’d be able to give Crowe a better chance at surviving the ambush, if he couldn’t convince her not to go in the morning.

Nodding to himself, he opened his door, preparing to march down the hallway and bait Luche into sticking his head out so he could bash it in with roughly three kilograms of steel. Fortunately, no one appeared to be outside of their own flats, though considering it was late in the evening by now, that was unsurprising.

He knew Luche had a habit of sleeping early if he had the opportunity to do so, so Nyx was fairly certain that if he knocked on the man’s door now, Luche shouldn’t be aware enough to register it was Nyx holding the frying pan before it hit him.

Sure enough, Luche opened his door with bleary eyes, and Nyx had a moment of vicious satisfaction watching the man crumple to the ground with a single hit of the pan. Now that Luche was unconscious, and not dead (there was a pulse, Nyx had checked), all that was left to do was shove him somewhere in his own apartment and hopefully have him out of commission for the next day at least.

“Uh, Nyx?”

Nyx looked up from where he was dragging the surprisingly heavy Luche the rest of the way into the apartment. Libertus was standing there, one crutch held limply in his hand.

“This…isn’t what it looks like, Lib.” Nyx winced, as Libertus looked incredulously at where Nyx was holding onto Luche’s limp arm.

“Is it?!” Libertus’ voice somehow reached another octave, as he cautiously approached Nyx.

“Look, this is going to sound incredibly crazy, but would you believe me if I told you that Luche is a traitor and he’s going to try to kill us all, except for the fact that I just knocked him unconscious.”

Libertus’ expression told him that no, Libertus didn’t believe him, and also that Nyx was…probably in some deep shit now.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nyx awoke, for the fourth time, in his bed, in his flat, a burning ember of phantom pain deep in his chest, clutching at where the piece of the collapsing hospital ceiling had stabbed right through him.

Well, he thought, somewhat hysterically, that could’ve gone better. Much better.

[twelfth-harbinger]

Kaeya fluff headcanons please??

A/n: So I clearly can’t read lmao. This came out as a scenario instead of headcanons lol I will post Kaeya headcanons shortly after this 🤣 Please enjoy this fluffiness.

Mentions: Kaeya being suggestive bc he’s Kaeya. Diona having ridiculously good hearing because she’s basically a cat.

Warnings: None this is funny & fluffy.

The In’s & Outs

“I think it’s about time I show you the in’s and outs of the city of Monstadt. I’m sure you know quite a bit already, given your keen intellect. However, there must be something I can show you that you haven’t seen or..tasted, just yet.”

Kaeya’s smile is bright & charming — everything about him is alluring, right down to the glimmer of playfulness in his icy pale bright eyes. After sight seeing, he takes you to the Cats Tail. He didn’t want to run the risk of bumping into anyone he was too familiar with at Angel’s Share. Diluc.

Charles is a great bartender and all but, Diona literally has the skills to make your tastebuds dance with ecstasy. It makes you wonder if she’s really trying to bring down Monstadt’s wind industry. She may deplore alcohol itself but, even she knows how to make a great drink. Kaeya sat down with you at one of the rounded tables of the Cat’s Tail. As you take your seat across from him, he simply stares your way. As if he’s trying to study you the same way Mona scrys the stars.

“You are extraordinary.” He thought out loud, witnessing your blush first hand was a treat indeed. He moved to raise a hand to his chest giving a not so apologetic smile. “If I may be so bold, it’s just reading you is quite the task in itself.” His chuckle melting in the bustle of the Cat’s Tail. His left eye lowered a bit in admiration of your sweet smile. Your lips were so full and the air around you smelled enticingly sweet. He wasn’t sure if he should put that into words in fear of sending you on your way and away from his side.

“Kaeya?” A random patron of the Cat’s Tail, he recognized that melodic voice anywhere. So much to not running into a familiar face. A bard, a beautiful one that Kaeya had to charm as soon as he saw them. You looked their way and smiled happily. They didn’t smile at you, in fact they ignored you and spoke again. “Did you come to hear me sing today?” They asked with a soft smile on their gorgeous face. Kaeya looked at you, who paid no heed to any of the tension that sat in the air like an elephant sitting on a top hat. He was undoubtedly grateful for your somewhat oblivious nature.

“No.” He spoke, seeing as it was best not to lie to this bard. He gestured to you who he wanted them to acknowledge. “I’m with this lovely individual right here. Showing them the in’s and out of the city of Monstadt. It’s pleasure to see that you’re doing well and still singing.” He complimented them and they looked over at you who sipped idly on a drink made by Diona. You looked over at Diona who was “minding” her business. She thought it was all amusing and her tail flicked behind her as she idly cleaned a glass. The bard blushed deeply as she heard his words. They must’ve thought he’d disregard you and pay attention to them. Kaeya would never.

“I-I see well, when you get bored you know where to find me.” With a huff they turned, leaving you alone with Kaeya. He was glad that moment of awkwardness was over. He looked back at you, seeing you drink form the straw in your glass. It was cute, you were cute.

“I apologize, for that...I was quite fond of their music and sound.” He was going to joke about how they couldn’t get enough of him but he didn’t want to sound like a sleaze.

“You slept with them?” You asked curiously sipping on your drink. Kaeya nearly spit out his own. He quietly stared at you, looking you over to see if he should answer it. He nodded, blush tinting his dark cheeks; a bit embarrassed by the abrupt question. Diona was thoroughly invested in this conversation though, of course she didn’t show it as she served a drink to one of her loyal customers. “Do you want to sleep with me? Is that why you asked me out?” You asked, Kaeya sat there frozen in his seat. He was usually the one doing the interrogation. He thought you were oblivious before but, you were definitely the sharpest tool in the shed.

“That’s not...all...” He trailed off, feeling like he got caught red handed. Or maybe he was a bit offended by the fact that was what you thought of him. Kaeya couldn’t blame you though, if he wasn’t the definition of a flirt he didn’t know what was. He wasn’t going to lie to your face, mainly because he did have genuine feelings for you and you’d also see through it in a heartbeat. You smiled at him, his eye went wide as you flashed him that teasing smile. He didn’t realize it but, he was indeed falling for you. With every passing minute he spent with you the deeper in love he would tumble.

“I’m teasing you Kaeya.” You finally say, it was what he needed to hear. He wasn’t sure how he could answer that question without sounding coy. It had been quite some time since he had difficulty reiterating his feelings towards someone. Something about you drew him in like a moth to a flame. “I’m having fun tonight. I like being with you. Finally melting that charming and icy visage you sport to effortlessly.” You spoke with a smile that warmed his heart. He enjoyed getting to know you too. Your personality was utterly stunning.

“You know, you’re the only one to make my silver tongue not so silver.” He chuckled and you followed suit, he liked hearing you laugh and your smile was breathtaking. “Albeit, you make me smile like no other.” Your eyes lit up when he said that, he took pride in making you blush. You purse your lips together as you sip from the straw.

“Do I, do...other things to you too, Kaeya?” You asked, sheepishly your blush deepening as you stared to the side; finding it quite difficult to keep eye contact now. Kaeya’s cool expression faltered yet again and he fought the blush that threatened to flush his cheeks. It took quite a bit of willpower not to turn table talk into pillow talk. Simply because it was habitual. It’s a good thing he was something of a romantic right?

“Of course you do, more than you know.” He laughed a bit awkwardly as he sighed out. “In fact, every time I see you my chest tightens.” You looked at him a little alarmed, he gave you a reassuring smile your concern was fairly cute. “In a way that leaves me wanting to see your smile everyday.” He said, your eyes flicker with a bit of awe not expecting to hear that. He went on, now was a good a time as any to confess his feelings for you. “Showing you around the city of Monstadt has made me realize that today. It was initially a ploy to get you to go out with me but, I wanted you to feel at home in my home.” The more he talked the more difficult it became to say anything else. He decided to stop right there, especially when it rewarded him, he got to see that smile again; it was otherworldly. “You’re so beautiful..” He thought out loud again, the comment made you blush and your smile widen. He couldn’t stop the deep red blush from tinting his own cheeks.

“Kaeya, I don’t know what to say. You’ve...made my night.” He wanted to really make your night, but alas, he thought against saying something that would ruin the moment. “You’ve been very sweet to me, ever since I’ve returned from Liyue. It almost made me think you had ulterior motives.” Kaeya laughed a bit and his head tilted a little as you eyed him.

“I’m hurt you would think that I only want to get into your pants.” He spoke, a playful glint in his eye. You roll your eyes a bit as you sip your drink with a smile.

“Don’t you?” You quipped, Kaeya chuckled he wasn’t going to deny it. Which made it all the more amusing to you both.

“I’d actually like to take you out again.” He changed the subject rather smoothly, only because if he didn’t he knew he’d say something lewd. “Tomorrow for breakfast at Sara’s.” He flashed a charming smile your way, as you opened your mouth to speak Diona came and dropped two tankards in front of you both. She placed a hand on her hip, her tail waving back and forth.

“Alright love birds. If you’re gonna go out for breakfast tomorrow you better come here! These are on the house, if it’ll get you two to come back.” She grinned, Kaeya realizing she heard everything sat there trying play it cool. You laughed and picked up the new drink. Diona wasn’t going to have her customers get away from her that easily.

“As long as you’re cooking Diona, we’ll be here. Right Kaeya?” You asked, accepting his invitation. His smile was bright as you reassured him. He was going to have you at his side for as long as you’d have him.

“That’s right Diona, so cook us something nice!”

[animeyanderelover]

Requested from @ririshiana

Request: Can I request Pein with a female darling who is part of the otsutsuki clan and Kaguya’s sister?

A/n: Never in my dreams did I ever think of something like this, but now I’ve been inspired.

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessiveness, paranoia, kidnapping, violence

Pain’s s/o is Kaguya’s sister

🌧Pain is not someone who gets very easily shaken up, but this would be even for him shocking, having suddenly a celestial being in his village. When he first met you, he put you most likely under custody at first, not trusting you enough. He also didn’t want other villagers to panic upon seeing you since your appearance is the one of a typical Kaguya. The same white skin, pale eyes, which resemble the Byakugan, and the horns protruding from your head, even your looks being otherworldly.

🌧He wouldn’t really show it, but he was at first a bit scared of you when finding out just what exactly you where. He might have never met Kaguya personally, but he knows the stories of the rabbit demon and her powers. Whilst he also knows that Kaguya earned her powers because she ate a chakra fruit, there’s no guarantee in saying how much power and experience you have.

🌧But after he formed his obsession with you, the fear turned more into respect. He really couldn’t help, but respect you due to the fact that you possess longevity, having been existing for probably a few thousand years. That is what earns you his respect in the first place, you’ve seen more than him and you know more than him so he might feel like his whole experience wouldn’t really compare to you. That would be even more the fact when you tell him that you are one of the last survivors of your clan, except one member everyone else having massacred themselves and that you witnessed countless planets being destroyed and falling apart due to the chakra tree robbing them off their energy. Your sister plays a huge role in here as well.

🌧So given the fact that you lived thousand of years longer than him, saw whole planets being rotten out, lost your sister and barely managed to escape before your own clan destroyed itself, he can’t really say that he knows better about how cruel life and this world really is. It might be your first time on this planet, but if you saw the cruelty of one planet, you saw them all.

🌧You better not be like Toneri who thinks the earth has to be destroyed, but since Kaguya loved the earth, you might just feel the same. And despite everything Pain is still paranoid and I do not really know if the given situation would either increase this or ease him. Because he is pretty much torn apart. On the one hand you have longevity, far more experience than him, most likely a great amount of chakra and control over it and one inborn skill. That could be the most common one which would be the Byakugan or, given the fact that you are Kaguya’s sister, the same bone-manipulating skill which would make you an ancestor of the famous, but sadly died out, Kaguya clan.

🌧On the other hand it is your first time on the earth, you’re more inexperienced on this planet and despite everything you have seen, Pain believes that the earth has it’s own pain. Furthermore you are not nearly as strong as your sister since you didn’t eat a chakra fruit. So whilst you are strong, there are people who will be able to beat you. But the thing that terrifies him the most is the fact that people might loathe or torment you when finding out what you are. Your sister is not known as a demon for a reason so people might fear you as well, thinking you might possess the same power and greed to rule over this world just like her. If he should find out that your clan has forced you to be eaten by the Ten-Tail in the past in order to harvest the fruit before your soul was transferred in a vessel, this won’t help his paranoia either. He will grow even more overprotective over you than normally.

🌧So you would still be hold in that tower of his, Pain having told you that it would be more safe to come with him and offering you to tell you everything. Because whilst rumors about what happened on earth definitely reached you on the moon, you still don’t know a lot of things, making you appreciate the help of him.

🌧This is maybe one of the very few times that Pain feels actually insecure whether he will be able to keep you locked up in the tower or not. Because whilst he had so far always confidence in being mighty and stronger than his opponents, he isn’t certain if that counts for you as well. You surely aren’t overpowered like Kaguya, but you are still incredibly strong and if he’s being honest, he doesn’t want to hurt you.

🌧This is a first time as well, but comes from the huge respect due to knowing just how special you really are. If I’m being honest, it might just lead him to being a fully delusional Yandere. The whole ‘you’re going to be my goddess’ speech will sound a lot more believable than with a normal human s/o. Because Pain really does see you as a goddess. You are a celestial being, you possess powers which trump many others, you are otherworldly and your sister enjoyed herself a long time the name goddess herself. It just feels justified for him to see you as one as well. It makes him borderline a worshipper.

🌧That’s why it’s more important than ever for him to convince you from his plans that humans are evil and that he wants to finally bring peace to this messed up world. And depending on how similar you are to Kaguya, you might just start seeing what she saw, that humans can only fight and for that need someone who rules and watches over them in order to protect this world.

🌧Konan is the only person allowed near you and would become for that your best friend. They will at one point tell you their story since you told them at one point yours, making you maybe understand their intentions and beliefs even more. Weirdly feel like that since you saw so many things before, you might not be really afffected when seeing Nagato’s real body which is a huge relief for both, hun and Konan. In fact you might not even be intimated by Pain himself which makes bonding with you so much more easier.

🌧Won’t force you into telling him more about you and your clan, though he will not object if you let him in on the one or another thing. He is interested in you, your species and backstory after all.

[thinkillwatchitburn]

Heyaa! Can ya do a Beni x reader first impression please!

Heya anon!!!! Thank you so much for reaching out to me!! 🥰

So, I just wanna say I have a very over-analytical brain and so any not-super-specific-requests seem to kind of get away from me? So I hope I’m able to answer this satisfactorily for you!!

Beni x Reader - First Impression

Aight so Imma write this as word-vomit cause I really do want to answer this, and I don’t want to get all caught up in my head, SO:

I imagine it’s hard for Beni to be especially impressed by *anyone* honestly, at least until someone catches his attention.

I used to get hung up on the idea that only sheer power would catch Beni’s attention - but the more I think about it, the more I doubt that.

Like yeah, he’s DEFINITELY impressed by sheer power, especially if it’s something that can challenge his own. He likes a good fight, we all know that.

But.... we never really get much of an opportunity to see Benimaru outside of his role as Leader, Trainer, Most-Skilled. The Destroyer King of Asakusa.

But also.... lets be honest, he’s not super in love with the idea of that title. He begrudgingly accepts it because it’s kind of been behooved to him, he’s inherited it, as the most ~pyrokinetically powerful~ of the Asakusa residents, privileged to be trained by Asauka’s Defender himself, Hibachi. He was the chosen one, he AND Konro always knew that - maybe especially Konro. Beni always, always felt that pressure - and when Konro suffered injuries that left him physically incapable of running Asakusa and the Hikeshi - Jesus I can imagine that panic attack.

He’s been put in the HIGHLY unfortunate position of both having TOO much expected of you, and being ~actually~ overly-capable but terrified of your own power and competency. I’ve been there - oh man. It’s ROUGH, and it really does feel like nobody really understands - half the people think you’re underestimating yourself, the other half are jealous, expect too much, and won’t give you a chance no matter what you do.

ANYWAYYYYYYY, sorry I go way off on tangents.

It would definitely depend on *who* the person is that he’s meeting, but in general - he’s not impressed by many people. Personally I think he’s so wrapped up in feeling overwhelmed by everything expected of him and over-analyzing everything in his own head that he’s really not impressed by much of ~anything~. Yeah, strength and power is cool, and if you could knock his ass back and make him feel actual pain it would definitely give him PAUSE - but what would really catch his attention is the little things.

Maybe he sees you interacting with a group of Asakusa orphans, listening and treating them with the same respect you would adults. He knows first-hand what it feels like being one of those young, “futureless” street rats - and to see someone be so nurturing, accepting, respectful. It touches him in ways he was UTTERLY unprepared for.

Maybe he sees you interacting with animals, understanding their feelings without a sound exchanged between the two of you, your kindness and pure intentions translated throughout species.

Maybe he sees you interacting with the beleaguered of his streets, people nobody would ever bother or dare to take a second glance at - the same people he might offer a shot of Sake to share with him, knowing he sees them more thoroughly than most ever will. Sex workers, “drug” dealers, “criminals” - after all, the Hikeshi is literally made up of gang members, criminals, and otherwise thugs who have NO respect for authority, but EVERY respect for a man with morals and a defensible cause, like fighting fires, extinguishing Infernals who were once their friends, and protecting the people they love.

No matter what it is, he sees something special in you that he hasn’t in any outsider in a long time. He knows his people, he’s confident there’s not a single individual among the population of his city that he doesn’t know, hasn’t seen through, inside of, behind, above, and in between. I firmly believe he perceives SO MUCH more than he’d ever let on. He works too hard to protect himself and put up a nonchalant front for me to believe he isn’t actually HYPER aware of his surroundings and all the people inside them.

He feels comfortable, heard, SEEN. I feel like he’s fairly used to people admiring his handsome face or his sweet physique. He’s no stranger to physical attraction and lust. I feel like he likely shares his body pretty freely, especially with the deep understanding he has of his own people - he’d know who’s “safe.” Who’s “fun,” nothing too serious or heavy. He’s always looking for a good time - or a nap. LOL

ANYWAY - I’m so sorry, I get SO sidetracked with these things 😂🤦🏻‍♀️

TLDR I guess is that Beni is honestly impressed and intrigued by a wide array of things, honestly I think anything you feel especially confident/proficient in, when he sees how skilled you really are he’s gonna just fall all over himself. Despite his otherworldly talents, he’s really a simple man. He has simple needs and wants, and he’s impressed by what catches his eye. I feel confident, if it were in the real world, he would 100% feel the fact that you are a good match for him and he’d be impressed by whatever skill/talent you have to offer, no matter how insignificant you might feel it is. And honestly, to have Beni’s admiration is just the best, most validating feeling in the world, ESPECIALLY knowing he’s not really especially impressed by much at all. I feel like when he finally finds that person who catches his eye - it doesn’t matter how mundane or “Silly” you feel your particular talents/interests are, he’s going to be utterly ~fascinated~; #1. Cause it’s so different from what he’s used to (traditional, edo-period japan, I still have a lot to look up but it’s generally pretty minimalist from what I’ve seen; also brute-strength visa-vie Konro and Hibachi); #2. They’re so genuine. If anybody else said the words they said he’d be sure they were absolutely full of shit, but the more he hears the more he understands what those words, when they’re really meant, actually sound like. You give him a reason to trust.

That really wasn’t TLDR and I am SUPER sorry about that.... but I really wanted to answer your request 🥺 I hope it’s what you were looking for!!! Of course, if you have any more suggestions, comments, complaints, my inbox is ALWAYS open and I am ALWAYS happy to. hear from you guys!!!

[hopeymchope]

I don't know how well you know Dungeons and Dragons (if at all), but if you can answer this, what races and classes would each character in THH pick for their characters in a given game?

Do I know anything about Dungeons & Dragons? ... Aside from the classic Alignment Chart, no. I don't know much of anything about it.

Or at least I didn’t know much about it. Because: Will I do a bunch of unnecessary research into the current version of D&D just so I can try to answer this question? YES OF COURSE.

So I dove into the various classes available and the various races that are playable (including current expansions), read the official descriptions for them all, verified which race/class combos were allowed, and finally came up with a list. Obviously, I don't have the depth of knowledge that a legit D&D player might have, but based on just the base descriptions available in the official materials, here's what I came up with.

Makoto Naegi – Human, Paladin. It makes sense that Naegi would go for the most commonly played race in the whole game. You might think he’d go for the most common type of class, too, but nah — his passionate sense of justice lures him towards being a Pally.

Kyoko Kirigiri – Half-Elf, Artificer. Artificers are the class that most values knowledge and intelligence, making them easy for Kiri to respect. And the Half-Elf is a being of two worlds who is said to be curious, inventive, and ambitious. Those traits are certainly present in Kiri.

Celestia Ludenberg – Elf, Rogue. We know Celes loves the physical appeal of thin, pale, otherworldly figures, and we also know that she’s hardcore into playing games of deceit. Ergo, this is perfect.

Aoi Asahina – Gnome, Ranger. I think the gnomes’ joyous embrace of life and all its pleasures would really grab the cheerful Hina. Plus she’d like how cute they are. Obviously, we’ve seen her bond with a fellow athlete quickly in RL, so for her class, I think she’d be drawn to a physical type — one better known for dexterity than raw strength. That brings it down to Monk or Ranger, and I think Ranger allows her to be less self-serious than the focused studies of a Monk.

Toko Fukawa – Tiefling, Bard. The bard is a primarily a storyteller, after all. It fits with her talent, and besides, it’s not like she’s inclined towards direct violence. The Tiefling is what fits with her personality. The constant abuse and suspicion that the Tieflings receive really reflect how Toko feels in her daily life.

Genocide(r) Jack/Syo – Half-Orc, Rogue. If Jack/Syo is in charge during the selection process, a Half-Orc who feels that inexorable pull towards her inner bloodlust is natural. I waffled on whether to go straightforward Fighter or Rogue, but I think the Rogue’s sneakier aspects and tendency towards smaller blades has to speak more to Jack/Syo.

Chihiro Fujisaki – Halfing, Fighter. A combination of what Fujisaki would clearly relate to (the small, peace-loving halfing) and what Fujisaki most wants to be (strong in both body and mind) resulted in this unlikely pairing. I think the evident dichotomy between class and race also hspeaks to 

Sakura Ogami – Leonin, Monk. As the Ultimate Martial Artist who is constantly training to be the best, she’d see herself reflected the Monk that constantly strives for physical and spiritual perfection. But what wins out when she picks a race – her noble warrior side or her girly side that loves cute things? I found myself waffling between the noble, physically imposing Leonin and the adorable Gnome. But ultimately, her combatant side has to win out, because she’s prone to hiding her girlier side.

Mondo Owada – Dragonborn, Barbarian. Dragonborn are loyal to their clan above all else, which is something Mondo can get into. Barbarians value strength, obviously, but they also have the ability to explode into a powerful rage. Mondo might not even be aware of why that speaks to him…

Kiyotaka Ishimaru – Dragonborn, Wizard. I think Taka would feel lost and perplexed when faced with a choice of what race to take, so when Mondo takes “Dragonborn” because he thinks it’s rad, Taka is just inclined to stick close to his bro. Then he chooses Wizard because it’s said to be the most scholarly of the various classes, and he wants to make sure he’s taking his studies seriously in every possible version of his life.

Mukuro Ikusaba – Leonin, Fighter. Leonin are mostly concerned with their own race and are nomadic. They’re a proud race of warriors and tend to keep to themselves. Mukuro has lived a similarity nomadic life, and the one person she usually lets close is her sister. Besides, mythical beasts like a Leonin sort of fit with the iconography of Fenrir. And then the Fighter class is… just obvious.

Junko Enoshima – Elf (Drow), Warlock. I think it’s extremely Junko to choose the most beautiful and noble of races and then pick the most chaotic/psychotic possible sub-race within it. The Drow are a group of subterranean elves who murder and enslave however they see fit, typically killing entire families if even one member stands in their way. Perhaps she’d try to disguise herself as a Wood Elf for most of the game, only to reveal her true nature once they’re deep into play. Furthermore, I can see her choosing a Warlock that has sold their soul to a demon or a dark god in exchange for power because of how incredibly despairing that sounds.

Hifumi Yamada – Dwarf, Bard. Given his own stature AND how much pride Hifumi takes in his “craft,” I think he’d identify with the skilled craftspeople who are stout in build. Hey, he already has shown a preference for characters with a similar build to his own body if you take his love for Princess Piggles into account. I doubt Toko would appreciate him sharing a class with her, but he’s even more overtly proud of being a storyteller than she is, so it’s a natural choice.

Leon Kuwata – Human, Ranger. With an eye for speed and precision, I picture Leon being drawn to the Ranger class. I also see him finding most of the fantasy races too weird/goofy and preferring to go Human, which actually fits nicely given that Humans in D&D are known for their ambition. Leon is definitely big on that.

Byakuya Togami – Refuses to play because it seems so foolish and frivolous, of course. But if he somehow is sweet-talked into it: Elf, Sorcerer. The Elf is a being of otherworldly grace with a larger perspective on world events that other races can’t gasp. The Sorcerer is a character with a magical birthright thanks to their powerful bloodline. Everything about this speaks to how he sees himself.

Yasuhiro Hagakure – Satyr, Druid. Satyrs are gregarious and just want to enjoy life’s pleasures, which sure sounds like our boy. But a Satyr Druid? The way I see it, Hiro will be put off by the typical magic-wielding classes, which’ll mostly make him think of his hatred of the occult. But the Druid derives all his power from nature, so Hiro will somehow figure that’s totally ok in the same way that his own weird powers somehow aren’t occult to him.

Sayaka Maizono — Half-Elf, Bard. OH CRAP I ALMOST FORGOT SAYAKA. I think the push and pull of the two worlds that Half-Elves feel, which often leave them feeling like they belong to neither one, is something that Sayaka would find understandable given the pull of her industry vs her desire to live a more “normal” life. And the Bard thing isn’t just because it’s typically a musical role — it’s also because of Maizono’s desire to be someone’s sidekick/supporting role and step out of the spotlight. 

..........and there it all is! Sorry that this took so long to reply to, but as you can see, I’m a wordy bitch. I wound up with quite the variety across the cast, actually. I used almost every class and almost every race (no Clerics and no pure Orcs, but that’s all that got ignored). 

Now, the typical D&D party is recommended to consist of 4-5 players, so this is obviously waaaaaay too many characters for a single session to contain. But if I were to pick the 4 or 5 people I think would most easily get drawn into a single D&D game? I’d think it’d be Hifumi, Makoto, Celestia, Chihiro, and Hiro.

[staticscreenwriting]

Skin deep - Chapter One || B.H.

Synopsis: Billy survived the battle of Starcourt but is left with a body full of scars. Scars that remind him of the pain he had to go trough and the horrible person he has become. In order to forget about all of that and move on, he wants to get them covered up. Good thing Hawkins has a brand new Tattoo studio and the girl who works there might just be the help Billy has been looking for.

A/N: I needed a TattooArtist!Reader x Billy story so I wrote one and you know me, I can’t keep it short and simple. There will be several parts to this. Don’t ask me about an updating schedule because I don’t have one. I try my best to be consistent but I make no promises. Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. 

[additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.]

Billy’s palms are clammy as he steps out of his car. His eyes wander towards the sign hanging above the door, welcoming him to “Little Bear Tattoos” as an American traditional bear face grins back at him.

This isn’t his first time getting a tattoo, by all means, he shouldn’t be as nervous as he is. But things are different now. Everything is different. Things change after you almost die because you sacrificed yourself to an otherworldly creature to save a little girl.

He had just turned 18 when he got that stupid little skull inked onto his arm. That’s now just a little over a year ago but it seems like a lifetime has passed since then. Sometimes, Billy thinks, sometimes It feels like that was another person altogether. That dumb little boy who thought he knew shit. The one that paraded his tattoo around like a complete and utter douchebag. He thought it made him look rough and cool and dangerous.

In retrospect, it just made it more obvious that he didn’t know shit about anything. Not life. Not death. And most definitely not about what it means to look rough and cool and dangerous. Sometimes he wishes he could go back to that moment and just relish in ignorant bliss. Most of the time he tries not to think of the past though because thinking of the past means thinking of all the things lost that night in July. Most of all himself.

Back then, getting a tattoo was easy. Now, it feels like the entire world is resting on his shoulders. It feels like he can barely keep it all from crashing down on him. 

The bell above the door chimes as he steps inside the tattoo parlor. It’s a relatively small shop but it looks clean and the walls are covered in framed drawings of very intricate designs. If those have been drawn by this place’s artist, he’s in good hands.

A fluffy little brown dog is lazily resting on a pillow by the shop window and only raises his head as the sound of footsteps approaching fills the room.

“ Hi, welcome to little bear. “ a cheery voice calls out to him as a girl steps out from behind a curtain leading to some backroom. She has a big radiant smile on her face though it exudes a certain warmth that only genuine smiles do. 

“ Hi uh — I was wondering if you have a free spot. “ 

“ Hmm… that depends. What are you wanting to get? “ 

To be quite honest, he hadn’t really thought much about it. All he wanted was something to cover up the ugly scars still streaking most of his body. When before, he felt a certain kind of pride whenever he passed a mirror, now it sends a sharp pain straight to his heart. Everything about him, from the perpetually tired look in his eyes to the scars, it’s al a reminder of the bad things he’s done. And the worst part is that he can never talk to anyone about it. Ever. No one will understand but the people who’ve been there, and though he and Max are getting along much better now, he still doesn’t fancy having long profound conversations with her about his demons.

“ I uh — I’m not sure but it needs to cover something.” 

“ Old tattoo? “ 

Billy swallows audibly “scars.” 

He’s not sure what reaction he’s expected from her but a casual “Okay, we can figure something out. “ is not it. Though he avoids wearing short sleeves these days, whenever someone manages to catch a glimpse of his damaged skin he got 1 of two reactions. Either people started regarding him with pity or disgust and he honestly wasn’t sure which was worse. At least those disgusted by him left him well enough alone and didn’t hold a million questions they expected him to answer in great detail.

“ Let’s sit down and we can talk about some things you like and see how we can incorporate those into a tattoo. Also, I would have to take a look at the area you want me to tattoo and see how bad the scarring is just so I can take that into consideration when designing the piece. Scar tissue is harder to tattoo but don’t worry, I promise I can do it. “

“ You’re gonna be tattooing me? “

It seems like a dumb question but honestly, Billy hasn’t met or seen that many female tattoo artists in his life and this girl seems to be about his age. That’s not something you see every day.

“ Yup. I’m (Y/N), this is my shop. Now, do you want something to drink while we discuss the piece? I got all kinds of sodas, I got water and I got non-alcoholic beer. 

“ Dr. Pepper? “ 

“ Good choice. Coming right up. “ 

She walks behind the counter with the cash register and reaches into a small fridge taking out two cans of Dr. Pepper before leading him towards a little seating area by the window. 

The fluffy little dog lifts his head once again regarding the two of them with only mild interest before plopping back down. 

“ Oh, you okay with dogs? I can take him to another room if you’re uncomfortable. “

Billy shakes his head. Nah, he loves dogs. Always wanted one but Neil, being the miserable bastard he is, never allowed the kids to have any pets. Too much work, too much responsibility. What an asshole. 

Though Billy is never going to admit it, the bedside drawer, that was once filled with issues of Penthouse magazine, now holds a bunch of self-help books and magazines dealing with topics of PTSD and trauma. A lot of them mention getting a support animal whether that be a specially trained dog or just a hamster to keep you company. It makes sense, it gives you someone who listens to you vent about all your problems and insecurities. If only his dad cared enough about his mental state to reconsider his stance on pets. Then again, when has Neil ever cared about him?

“Nah, it’s fine don’t worry. He’s cute.”

“Thanks. His name is Bear and he’s kind of the mascot of this store.”

There’s a twinkle of pride in her eyes while she talks about the shop and her dog. Something Billy is infinitely envious of. Everything he’s ever felt any hint of pride in is gone. His car. His looks. All of it.

“Okay so tell me a little about yourself. Is there anything you can think of that you’d like to get inked? Any interests, hobbies? Maybe you wanna tell me a little about yourself.”

Back before, when things were different, Billy would’ve packed as much ego enlarging words and compliments into it as possible. Would’ve mentioned his car and his most satisfactory performance skills in the bedroom. But now, he hardly knows who he is these days. 

“ Um … my name is Billy. I’m 19, I’m from California. ‘Bout two years ago my dad packed us all up and had us move out here to the end of the world. Then … things happened.”

“You miss California?”

“Every day. The thought of going back one day is the only thing that keeps me fucking going. I miss the ocean. I miss surfing. I miss home. I miss all of it.”

She looks at him intensely for a moment, sizing him up, contemplating her next words. He can almost see the creative gears running in her head. 

“Alright. I might have an idea. I’d have to see the area first though.”

He expects pity in her voice though there is none. Her words are comforting and warm and calm. Billy wonders how often she has to deal with clients like him. Those who come to her with painful and ugly reminders of their past.

His hands are shaking as he pulls off his denim jacket and reveals his left arm to her. The skin is streaked with scars. They’re the same paths that used to wind up and down his arm in inky black hues like poisonous vines. Now they’re a faded pink but that doesn’t mean he hates them any less.

Billy can feel his heart beating in a fast rhythm as anxiety floods his system. Maybe this was a bad idea, maybe -

“Okay how big would you want to go,” (Y/N) asks, her voice gentle and soothing and her eyes switching from his arm to his eyes. She doesn’t ask him what happened and that’s a relief.

“As big as you can. I know you can’t make it disappear but I’d like as much of it covered as possible.”

“ I won’t be able to do an entire sleeve today but if that’s something you want we can start with a bigger piece on your upper arm today and then work our way to a full sleeve in the future?”

“Sounds good. I just want the scars gone. I need them covered.”

“Well my guy, you’ve come to the right place. It’s my specialty. You’re in luck too, I’m free all day so depending on your pain tolerance and the trauma of your skin, we might even be able to finish the first piece today.”

Pain tolerance, he wants to scoff at that. What he’s been through, the pain and the anguish and the emotional trauma, nothing will ever compare to that. Not even close. He’d get a 100 tattoos all at once and it still wouldn’t measure up.

“Alright, let’s do it.”

“Cool awesome! Imma go over to the drawing board and you can feel free to keep yourself entertained in the meantime. We have an arcade machine in the back. There’s records in the corner if you want to listen to some music. I’ll even let you choose.”

“Is that an honor?” Billy asks, a small smirk on his face. Every once in awhile a flicker of the person he used to be shines through. But then it’s gone and he’s left as this shadow of his former self.

“Oh you have no idea.”

As (Y/N) settles behind a big wooden table and starts scribbling away, Billy wanders over towards the corner of the studio. A bright red record player is resting on a sideboard surrounded by several boxes filled with vinyl records. They’re sorted by band name then chronologically. There’s all kinds of genres too. AC/DC and Judas Priest but also Stuff like The Mamas and the Papas and the Monkees.

“Anything, in particular, you wanna listen to? Kinda hard to make out your taste with this selection. There’s … everything.” Billy calls out to her, leaving through the records.

“What can I say? I like a bit of everything. Don’t like to limit myself.”

Old Billy would’ve raised his eyebrow and asked her if that extends to her love life as well. But old Billy is gone and so he keeps his mouth shut.

“I know it seems like just your kinda music, but maybe stay away from the hard rock. Maybe something a bit more mellow.”

He hasn’t really listened to a lot of music since … well since everything. He mostly sleeps or reads and sometimes when it’s a good day he even attempts to do a bit of writing. It’s nothing spectacular but it’s - something. An outlet really. The stories vary from an autobiographical retelling of the incident to silly tales of young boys going on space adventures. It's a way to get lost in the save parts of his mind. The ones that can create make-believe worlds and happy thoughts. Not the ones tainted with gruesome images of the past.

The opening notes the Monday Morning by Fleetwood Mac fill the air and Billy doesn’t miss the smile tugging on the corner of (Y/N)’s lips. 

“Nice. Didn’t really think you were a Fleetwood Mac fan.”

Billy shrugs his shoulders casually “they’re a classic.”

He sits back down in the seat by the window, watches as the clouds pass the sky and the people go about their day. That’s until a furry little ball of fluff settles down in his lap and demands to be cuddled.

“Oh hey, you.”

“Sorry about that. Bear does not understand the concept of personal boundaries. He thinks everyone is only here to pet him. If he bothers you just set him down.”

But he doesn’t mind one bit. In fact, combing his fingers through the curly brown fur fills Billy with a sense of calm and it grounds him a little. He really needs to adopt a dog for himself. 

“It’s fine. No bother.”

Time passes with Billy cuddling the dog and ever so often glancing over at (Y/N) while she’s working on the sketch. She’s drawing then erasing then redrawing. Copying then throwing it away then doing it all again. All the while she’s dancing along to the music. There’s a lightness about her that Billy wishes he could possess. Even before the Stacourt situation, he never had this unbothered lightness about him. That’s just not the person you turn into when you grow up in a house with Neil Hargrove.

A light drizzle falls outside and Stevie Nicks sings along to it and life feels … almost peaceful right then. Billy lives for these small moments of normality. These glimmers of what life used to be. 

“Okay, I’m ready. Wanna have a look?” 

There’s a bright smile on her face as she looks at him and waves the sketch around. “I think I nailed this one. I hope you’ll like it.“

Billy can see that she actually means it. It's not just a silly phrase she’s tagged onto her sentence. She’s genuinely nervous for him to see it.

Bear follows Billy as he walks toward the counter, a smiley (Y/N) watching their every move. There’s something about how passionate she is about her work that makes Billy both happy and sad. There used to be things in life that he was passionate about. His car. His clothes. The music he loved. Now it’s all dull and trivial and he’s lost. So damn lost.

His eyes wander towards the sheet of paper. Delicate black lines run across the page, swirling and arching and creating a beautiful composition. It’s a lighthouse. A tall and sturdy one. It shines it’s light out into the distance to guide the ships safely around the sharp edges of the cliffs. It’s a beacon of safety and hope surrounded by the rough sea and crashing waves.

“I thought it was a nice symbol, you know. Light in the dark. Guiding ships to safety.” (Y/N) explains. She’s biting her lip nervously and Billy thinks it’s insanely adorable. This piece is perfect, to think she’s uncertain and nervous about his reaction …

“I tried to incorporate the ocean and the crashing waves. You know, as a reminder of your life in California.”

Billy is speechless for a moment. Everything he wanted. All the ideas swirling around in his head. She put it down on paper, made them visible. And he didn’t even have to voice them. They were all just mushy gray clouds in his head, non forming a coherent picture. Just a feeling. A feeling of peace and belonging. Of being strong when everything around you tries to push you down to your knees.

“Do you like it? I can change it if you —“ 

“I love it!”

Her mood immediately changes after hearing those words. As if a switch is suddenly flipped and sunshine floods her face. Her eyes light up and her smile widens.

“Okay perfect! Wanna get started?” 

“Sure, let’s do it!”

The black leather chair is soft underneath him as (Y/N) puts the stencil onto his skin. She has a soft gentle touch which only matches the tone of her voice. Very calming. A complete opposite to the rest of Billy’s life.

“Okay, so it’s not gonna be pleasant since I have to tattoo over scar tissue. If you wanna tap out or take a break just let me know.”

He’s fairly sure that whatever pain he’ll have to endure, it will be nothing compared to what he’s already been through. Pain has a completely different meaning to him now. 

“I’ll be fine.”

And he means it. Not just about the tattoo, about everything. It feels like this is the first step into a new life. One that won’t be determined by his past mistakes. By the trauma.

The buzzing sound of the tattoo gun fills the air and (Y/N) starts pulling the first few lines. Short strokes. As if to test his pain tolerance. Her eyes wander up to meet his, a silent question shining through them.

He grants her a nod. One of pure determination. One that says, without question: “I’ll be fine!”

For a while, they sit in comfortable silence. There’s just the humming of the machine and the raspy voice of Stevie Nicks to lull them into a soft tranquility. 

“ I’m not gonna ask about the scars but can I ask about the skull on the other arm?”

Billy lets out a mix between a laugh and a scoff. “Sins of my youth really.”

“ Oh geez, that makes you sound so old. You’re what, 19?”

“ Almost 20.”

“ See. You’re still in the prime of your youth!”

Billy shrugs his shoulder as she dips the tattoo gun back into the ink. Truthfully, it doesn’t feel like he’s in the middle of his youth. He feels so damn tired. He never got to be a kid. Never got to be a teen. Always wandering in between it all, lost and disillusioned with no one there to guide or help him.

“ How old are you?”

“ Just turned 20 a few days ago.”

“And you already have your own shop. That’s impressive.”

“Yeah well, it’s all I ever wanted to be. Worked my ass off. Spent all my free time at my cousin's tattoo studio up in Carmel. He taught me everything I know. Worked after school and on the weekends and then when I graduated my cousin gave me a little loan and I had enough to open the shop. He believed in me when no one else did and it means everything to me. Hope I make him proud. I just always felt like this is what I'm meant to be. An artist. And this way my art gets immortalized on people’s skin and in some cases it can help them overcome difficult times in their lives. I hope I can make even the smallest change in people’s lives. “

It doesn’t get lost on him, that she doesn’t mention her parents. Something must be up there but it sure as hell isn’t his place to ask about it. Families, he knows quite well, can be a touchy subject.

“Well, you’re definitely making a change in mine.”

“Yeah?”

She looks almost bashful as the question tumble from her lips.

“Yup. I … I need to make those scars disappear. They — they remind me of the worst time in my life and of a version of myself I never want to be again. Having you cover them for me with this art piece that’s so fucking cool, it means everything.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“You should be proud of yourself.”

There’s a connection there, one he can neither grasp nor explain. It’s like she understands parts of him he doesn’t even put on display. And it’s both scary and exciting. And maybe, he understands parts of her she’s not aware she’s putting on display either.

“Okay. I’m done!”

There’s an infinite sense of pride exuding from her words. Billy wishes there was something in his life that he was good at. Something to let him be proud of himself.

“Wanna take a look?” (Y/N) asks with the most radiant smile playing on her face.

“Absolutely!”

His legs are stiff from sitting in the chair for so long but he can’t wait to see the finished piece. Slowly he walks towards the full-length mirror, (Y/N) hot on his heels.

His eyes fall onto the artwork now permanently inked into his skin. There are vibrant shades of blue and dark black lines. The sea is alive, it’s unforgiving and rough. But there’s the light from the lighthouse, the hope, the safety. It’s all there’s and it’s beautiful. Where there used to be ugly pink scars thick and burning, there’s now a beautiful painting. The scars are gone. The pain is gone. All that’s left is beauty and hope.

He doesn’t realize that tears are running down his cheek until she hands him a tissue. His first reaction is to wipe them away and pretend they weren’t there in the first place. A Hargrove man isn’t allowed to cry. Not in front of people anyway. Especially not in front of women. Hargrove men are bitter and numb. They’re stoic. Silent. Angry. Above all they’re sad.

But isn’t that the person he wants to leave behind?

So he lets himself feel it. Lets the tears fall as if it were nothing. 

Maybe this can be the next step into becoming the person he wishes so desperately he can be.

“I take it you like it?”

“I love it.”

And he hugs her. Pulls her close and tight as if he’s known her forever. She reciprocates the hug in no time. Softly oats him on the shoulder.

She smells like flowery perfume and clean cotton. Soft. Sweet. Intoxicating

“I can not thank you enough.”

“Billy, trust me this means as much to me as it does to you.”

He doesn’t disagree with her but he’s sure that’s not true. It means everything to him.

They talk for a little longer then he pays her, way too little if you ask him. She deserves way more and he suspects that some kind of personal sympathy plays into the price. But he’s not one to argue. Not when he’s sure he’ll come back. There are more scars. More pain. He’s not fixed but he’s at least a work in progress now.

She takes a few Polaroids of his tattoo, to put on her wall. To show people she can cover scars. Can help them. Help fix them. Make them feel less broken. 

“They’re burn scars.”

Billy finds himself sharing a piece of his story. One he’s kept so close to him, sometimes he almost wondered if it was true. But it is. And there are more reminders all over his body. It feels right to share it though. She helped him cover part of it, without judging. Without questions. She deserves to know.

“Huh?”

“My scars. They are burn scars.  Not — not from the outside but from the inside. Like fire going through my veins. I uh don’t know how to explain but that’s what they are. You can tell that to your clients. That you covered burn scars. That you’re that talented. “

For a moment she just stares at him, a deep sense of affection shining from her eyes. It’s comforting and nerve-wracking all at once. But he lets himself feel it. He promises himself to let himself feel the good things even if they seem scary.

“That’s … hey, would you like to grab some dinner with me? I could really go for a burger at the diner round here. It’s real good. “

And with the way she smiles, how the hell is he supposed to say no to that.

“Sounds good to me. Lead the way!”

The sun hangs low above the horizon almost dips behind the line to vanish and make room for the moon but not quite yet. They step out into the dawn, Bear pattering alongside them his leash grabbed tightly in (Y/N) hand. 

As hues of red and pink and orange surround them and dip the world into a golden haze, Billy feels like maybe this is the way. Maybe this is his path leading into a new future. With less pain. Fewer scars. More color and more smiles.

And maybe a beautiful and talented girl and a little dog by his side.

[forgedroyalseal]

Why would they be jealous?

Will over hears some rangers talking about him in a less than flattering way at a gathering. Gilan takes care of it like the good big brother he is. Takes place at the gathering at the beginning of book 8

Trigger Warning: vague suggestions of rape/non-con. Nothing happens.

Jealousy is the tribute mediocrity pays to genius

Fulton J. Sheen

Will was not accustom to people being jealous of him. He was an orphan, left at the ward as an infant. Growing up he was alway the smallest, and despite the comforting words of his caretakers, he did not hit a growth spurt at 10, or 12, not even at 15. Will was denied a knights apprenticeship. Halt had chosen him as a ranger’s apprentice, something he would learn to realize is exactly what he was destined to do, but most people were wary of rangers. The simple commoners believed them to be evil sorcerers, who had dark and dangerous otherworldly abilities. Those who were better educated might not believe the folk tales surrounding rangers, but they still crossed the road if they saw a ranger approaching. Ranger’s keep to themselves, mystic was a cloak just as useful as the gray and green one they wear, and their mysterious tendencies made them a target for speculation. Rumors and hearsay surrounded them, ensuring that practically no one wants the title of “Ranger”. And those who do often found themselves either as a ranger, or being hunted by one. So it wasn’t until Will was well into his apprenticeship that he would even be noticed enough for someone to envy him, and at that point, he was too occupied with his apprenticeship to notice when young boys would stare at him as he passed, or the way young men would puff out their chests and give him a look that said, what is so special about him? I could do what he does. It wasn’t until Will had graduated that he had to deal with the ugliness of jealousy being aimed towards himself.

Will knows that it isn’t fair to eavesdrop on his fellow Rangers. It’s just that Will was so accustomed to moving silently in the shadows, that sometimes he forgot to turn it off, and he didn’t intend to overhear the conversation of the group of four rangers who were sitting around a fire. He was just passing by when he heard his name mentioned. And while Will had a lot of self control, no one has enough to pass by a conversation that seem to be about themselves.

“What do you think of Halt’s boy, Treaty?” One of the men, Ranger Donovan, asked the group.

“That boy has grown too full of himself. He thinks he’s something special. The only special thing about him is that he managed to get Halt to take pity on him.” Ranger Hawthorn barked.

The other men grumbled in agreement. Ranger Lee cleared his throat to speak, and Will hoped that he might stand up for him, or at the very least change the conversation. Will and Lee had gotten along well during this gathering. They often ate at the same table and Lee had even asked Will to watch his apprentice during an archery practice and give the boy some advice. Will’s hope drowned though when he heard what Lee had to say.

“He acts all high and mighty, consulting with Halt and Crowley as if he were on the same level they are. I’ve been a ranger longer than that boy has known how to walk, and yet he is they one they have assessing the apprentices, he is the one they send off on important assignments.” Lee spits at the ground and scoffs.

“If I didn’t know better I’d say there is a reason that Treaty is getting special treatment.” Donovan said.

“What kind of reason?” Ranger Ben asked. Ben was the youngest of the group, he was probably only a few years older than Will, and had stayed silent up until now. He wasn’t accustomed to rangers talking so negatively of each other.

Donovan ignores Ben, instead turning his attention to Lee and Hawthorn, “Halt and Treaty are very close. Closer than any of us have ever been with our apprentices. Maybe Halt found a skinny orphan that no body cared about and groomed him into-”

Will’s stomach was rolling and he put his hands over his ears. He knew that if anyone saw him he would look very childish, hunched over, trying to block about the voices by the fire, but he didn’t care. He was disgusted at Donovan’s implications and simultaneously wanted to run far away and show all of them exactly how skill he was with his bow. Before he could do either, he heard a familiar voice.

“If you would like to keep the ability to speak, you will shut up right now.”

Will looked back over to where the men were gathered around the fire. But this time there was a fifth figure standing next to them. Gilan. Will sighed a breath of relief. Then a deep blush rose on his cheeks, Gilan had apparently heard what Donovan had been suggesting.

“I don’t know what why you think you have the right to imply such repulsive things, but let me make one thing perfectly clear. Halt would never take advantage of a child in his care. And if I ever hear any of you say otherwise, I will personally make sure that you are removed from the corps.” Gilan’s voice was low and measured, it sounded as though he was holding back the flood gates.

Ben looked terrified and Gilan found it hard to believe that Ben had much to do with any of this. The ranger was quiet and polite, his biggest flaw was his need to be accepted. Which is most likely why he remained in the company of the older rangers when the conversation took a nasty turn. Lee and Hawthorn had the decency to look at least somewhat ashamed, Donovan however, look furious. He stood and stepped toward Gilan. Gilan was taller (he was taller than all of the rangers in the corps), but Donovan was thick with muscle and probably had nearly 40 pounds on Gilan. Will knew that Gilan could handle himself, but his hand still instinctively floated down to the hilt of his throwing knife. Just in case.

“Why do you care what we say about Treaty?” Donovan said.

Gilan leaned closer to Donovan ever so slightly. “He is my brother, that’s why.” Then Gilan turned and left. Will also took his leave, nothing good would come from remaining where he was.

The conversation between Donovan, Lee, and Hawthorn had infuriated Gilan. When he first left the men he wanted to go straight to Crowley. Crowley was almost as defensive of Will as Gilan was. They both saw greatness in Will that he couldn’t see in himself. And since Will was practically Halt’s son, that made Gilan and Crowley his protective big brother and uncle. He had actually made it to the front of Crowley tent before stopping himself. Gilan figured it would be best to check in with Will before he involved Crowley. If anyone had said or done anything to Will, Gilan knew that he wouldn’t say anything. He would just try to sweep it under the rug and move on. He wasn’t one to draw attention to himself or cause a stir. Gilan, on the other hand, had zero qualms with making a scene if it meant justice would be delivered. And justice was necessary. Rangers should be united, and rumors such as the ones Donovan was spewing were dangerous.

Gilan didn’t see Will until dinner that night. He had looked for him, but if the young ranger didn’t want to be found, he made sure that he wasn’t. By the time Gilan had entered the dining tent, Will was already seated at a table alone, moving his food around his plate, but never bringing his fork to his mouth. Gilan felt something in his stomach sink. Something was wrong. Will never sat alone during meals at the gathering. In fact, just yesterday Will had said to Gilan that he was almost never alone during any part of the gathering. He was always followed by young apprentices with stars in their eyes, or by those who wanted to see what kind of ranger Halt’s small, wide eyed apprentice had turned out to be. So seeing Will alone, in a dark corner of the tent was unusual and alarming. Passing by the line to get a plate of food, Gilan made his way across the room to Will.

“Will-” Gilan started as he took a seat on the other side of the table, but he was cut off before he could finish.

“I was there. I was passing by in the woods when I heard them. I should have just keep on walking. I shouldn’t have listened. But I did.” Will’s voice knocked Gilan off guard for a moment. It was so small and lonely, it made Gilan remember just how young Will really was.

“You need to know that Donovan and the others are just jealous Will. They’re words don’t mean anything.”

“Jealous? Jealous of what Gil? Of an oraphan boy that no one wanted? Or of a druggie slave would had to be rescued by the crown princess? Maybe they are jealous of the ranger who can’t stand his assignment because he hates being alone? Yeah, there is a lot to be jealous of.” Will scoffed.

Gilan sighed, he hadn’t realize that Will was this blind to what everyone else saw in him. “No Will. They are jealous of your natural abilities. They are jealous of what a genuinely good man you are. They know that you will become the best ranger the corps have ever seen.”

Will rolls his eyes but Gilan continues, “Will, men like that know that no matter how hard they work, or train, no matter how much experience they have, they will never be what you are. They will never be remarkable Will. And they don’t know how to accept that. So they try to find fault in you when there isn’t any.”

“But I’m not remarkable Gil. I’m not anything special.”

“Yes you are Will. You may not realize it today. You may never see it, but everyone else around you can. And unfortunately that makes you a target. But you cannot let them get in your head. Just keep being you Will. That is all you need to do.”

The two rangers sat in silence for a while. Gilan knew that Will had to process everything he had just said, and there wasn’t any point in trying to bring up discussing the matter with Crowley until Will was ready.

“Please don’t tell Halt about any of this.” Will said, breaking the silence.

“Will, he won’t think any less of you.”

“I know. I just don’t want this to get out to everyone. And I don’t want Halt to know what Donovan said about him.”

Gilan thought about it. He should tell Halt. Gilan knew that his former mentor would lose it if he heard about what happened, and Gilan wanted a front row seat to the confrontation that would end with Donovan, Lee, and Hawthorn bleeding on the ground, or swimming in a moat, or both. But Will had a right to want to control the matter. The implications that they made were revolting, and they would hurt Halt, even if he acted like they didn’t. And Will had a valid point about not wanting others to find out about what was said. If Halt went ballistic on the men it was only a matter of time before word got around about what had been said about Halt and Will.

“Fine, we won’t tell Halt. But we do need to tell Crowley.”

Will began to protest, but Gilan put his hand up to stop him.

“You may not be Halt’s apprentice anymore, but Crowley is our Commandant, he needs to know what is going on. We will tell him together, and we will ask him to keep it to himself. I’m not negotiating on this Will. Crowley needs to know.”

“Crowley needs to know what?”

Both rangers turn to see the man in question standing by their table. Will turned his attention back to Gilan.

Gilan nods, “Go ahead Will. Tell him. It’s just us.”

And Will tells Crowley everything.

[onestowatch]

Hannah Jadagu on the Black Artists That Inspire Her

When immersed in the raw beauty of Hannah Jadagu’s SubPop debut EP, What is Going On?, many things spring to mind. How does she build such nuanced melodic tension with her lyrics? How does she write such introspectively brilliant lyrics? What inspires this NYC via Mesquite, Texas songwriter? What other artists inspire her eloquent, sublime sound? 

So we did just that. In honor of Black Music Month, these are six black artists who inspire Jadagu and her otherworldly sound. 

KennyHoopla - “Plastic Door”

“Plastic Door” is a song that really helped inspire the feeling of the title track on the EP. KennyHoopla is a black artist who has this certain swag when it comes to alternative rock, and I think he’s really special.

Read our review of KennyHoopla’s latest mixtape, SURVIVOR’S GUILT: THE MIXTAPE. 

Jean Dawson - “Bruiseboy”

“Bruiseboy” was a song I was listening to a lot when I was making the first single off of the EP, which is “Think Too Much.” The overall genre blending/high electronic energy that Jean’s music has was super influential for that track. I’m also just a huge fan of everything he does.

Dijon - “Nicos Red Truck”

“Nicos Red Truck” by Dijon was such a crucial song for my EP making era as well. I dedicated “Bleep Bloop,” the closer on my EP to that song. Dijon is just so great at displaying his emotions in his music, and being extremely creative yet poised while doing it.

SZA - “20 Something”

“20 Something” by SZA is another song that helped influence my song “Bleep Bloop,” but also just the overall meaning of the EP. I feel like in my EP you can hear a lot about my anxieties, and the sort of unsure feelings I have about the world. My EP is a bunch of 20 somethings, except I’m speaking from a younger prospective.

Arlo Parks - “Black Dog” / Yves Tumor - “Romanticist” 

Honorable mention: Two black artists that I’ve really been enjoying listening to are Arlo Parks and Yves Tumor. Arlo is just a gem and seems like the sweetest person ever. Her music is extremely poetic, smooth, and vulnerable. Yves Tumor is an artist who is absolutely taking over the experimental world, showcasing that black artists are extremely versatile, skilled in both writing and production, and fearless. Both artists really helped me get through 2020.