#i want a teenage mages fight | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

marlinspirkhall · 5 months ago

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The Un-Maker

To the uninformed, you are nothing more than a necromancer. You wear their sigil on your chest; the chief mage insists on it- after all, he can read magik better than most. He is the first to discern the true meaning of your gift, years before even you do.

His own magik is significantly strong- though, like him, it has withered with time. By and large, the other mages ignore you. After all, you are only a svvein.

The first time you leave the magery, he gives you a cloak. It's dark purple- the robe of a novice- which is a generous assessment at best. You can barely resurrect a magefly.

His eyes sparkle, then grow serious. “Take it,” he insists. “It will help you blend in.” Of course, you take it only to humor him- blending in comes naturally to you. It might be your only skill.

You perform small tasks in the village, basic magecraft which is little more than a conjurer's trick. You un-break a wheel. You un-graze a knee. When you pass, the best blacksmith in the village watches with baited breath.

You un-forge his sword.

•

While hiding from the smith, you crouch behind the stables. You won’t realise for many years, but the gate you closed on the way in prevented the escape of a horse. The horse- who dreams of the apples in the nearby grove- snickers sadly to herself.

There is a boy at the magery who wears red. Red, the robes of a master. He holds himself with the confidence of someone older, but both of you are five-and-ten.

One night, he lifts a heavy staff above his head, and performs a summoning spell: the most powerful of all magecraft. In an instant, the sky trembles, and rolls with dark clouds. The old masters rejoice, and sing his praises in the downpour, of a boy so powerful that even lightning obeys his command.

You shelter at the edge of the courtyard, and watch without envy.

He's the first to leave, when the war comes.

•

In the coming weeks, you wander the village. You are the only teenager left now that the others have gone, but there are still children to babysit. There are still bloody noses and scraped knees to un-attend to. By now, the villagers know your gift well- that strange, backwards magik you perform without intention. When your mere presence stops an axe falling on his head, even the blacksmith learns to forgive you.

But then, the war comes for the innocents, too.

Families flee Vale-Meg'ed with oxen, horse and handcart. The mages buy them time, and instruct you to leave with them.

“I want to help,” you say.

“Svvein-”

“Perhaps I can un-make the war!”

The chief mage smiles a grim smile. “It will not obey you.”

“But we haven't tried-”

“No.” He wheels on you, his eyes fury and fire. “Take this, and flee.”

It's his first-hewn staff: a spindly thing he carved as a mageling. It's little more than a bolt of wood, but you feel its weight when you touch it. Your hands tremble, and the old mage drives it into the ground afore you.

Sparks flicker.

“Go!”

When you stumble, the staff catches you.

You flee. You trip on your robes, drive the staff into the path, and watch dust fly where sparks ought to instead. You drive the staff down again and again, but it leaks no more magik.

In the distance, storms rage over Mages' Hill. Thunder crackles, and lightning flickers back and forth. Two dark clouds loom beside each other, fighting for dominance.

•

There's a body on the road out of Vale-Meg'ed.

You can't help but slow down. You've seen dead bodies before, of course– they used them for practice at the magery, even those that you couldn't resurrect– so you know what they look like.

For the first thirty seconds, this person is definitely deceased. Then, they gasp, and sit bolt upright.

You scream, and they do too.

Once the shock of not being dead has worn off, they cough soundly, and offer you a swig of water from their flask. Not knowing what killed them, you shake your head.

They down it, then cough some more. “Young svvein. You are but a novice?” They say, seeing your simple robes.

“I–” you say. “I didn’t–”

“Why, magikst most powerful!” They declare, as they check their wounds. “I thought I was going to lose my leg.”

You stare at them in silence as they reach for their purse. “Svvein, I know not why you've saved my life- and I have few coins to give- but accept my thanks.”

You take their silver, if only to preserve your cover, and help them to their feet. They accompany you to the end of the road, where the path splits. Then, they give thanks, and head towards Mages’ Hill.

It’s silent now, but the fires are still burning.

You turn away, and touch the embroidered sigil on your chest: the necromancer’s coil. You wonder if the chief mage knew more than he let on.

•

True necromancing is a complex task, often requiring a pack of mages. Death has compounding interest. The more injuries, the more mages are required. The longer dead, the longer the spell must prevail. Ordinarily, necromancers work long, arduous hours to resurrect a single person. Those who have an understanding of the mage’s art are shocked to see only one of you.

“Where are the others?” someone asks, as you pass them.

“They... Went to lunch,” you say.

“That's unheard of.” They stretch, and crack their back. “The first thing they do is always to collect payment.”

“This isn't your first time being resurrected, is it?” You realise, with a sinking feeling.

They grin toothily, and accept a discount, in exchange for not asking too many questions.

•

In the coming weeks, you un-kill many people along the battlefield. The bodies you pass wake up more often than not, always coughing and spluttering. That which once was jarring becomes routine. Some scream in fright, others clutch at long-healed wounds. Others jolt at the sight of a mage, and cower in your presence.

“Get away, get away!”

Beside them, a cracked mage-staff lies in the mud, snapped cleanly in two. You decide to forgo payment.

You make a living this way for a while, drifting from battle to battle like a vulture. It pays little- the soldiers that die are never the best-equipped, and you get there long after the looters do. Still, those who find themselves alive are invariably grateful to do so, and reward you as well as they can. It's enough to buy you board at the tavern most nights, if not a meal, too.

With time, the war moves on from the valley, though it rages in the distance. You are older now, broader of shoulders, and the First-Hewn staff is older, too. It grows brittle in your fingers.

Before long, it is broken.

You stare at it for a long while, for you are not in the business of breaking things. Still, breaking is a kind of un-making, you suppose. It falls to pieces with nothing more than a whisper, and you mourn it: the First-Hewn staff of an elder holds great power. That it is freed from your possession is a bittersweet relief.

For the first time since the war came, you think of the man who forged it. They say in the early days of war, Mages' Hill was razed to the ground. You haven’t returned to Vale-Meg’ed since.

That night, you rent a room at the tavern, and weep.

•

It's impossible to blend in without your staff, so you attempt to carve your own. For seven suns and seven moons, sparks fly, and lightning pummels the forest. You abandon the task.

The trees are scarred and pockmarked, and the ground will never be the same, yet not a single beam struck you.

For a week, you remain in the valley, but your purse-strings are tight, and the taverns are fit to burst. With little choice, you venture out into the marshland. You out-grew the purple robes years ago, and you’re dressed simply: in a linen shirt and trousers. For now, you are simply a traveller, and you don't intend to continue your grift. Without a staff to speak of, you hardly look the part of a necromancer anymore.

•

Battle does not suit the marshland. It makes the swamp reek worse than usual, and the reeds are soaked with blood. When you trawl for treasure, you find bodies instead.

Bodies who wake up confused, and ask you what's going on.

You sigh, and help them out of the mud.

You wade through the bog for a while, stepping on stones where you can. There's a strange smell in the air; acrid, like burning. The tips of the reeds are signed.

A soldier lies in the dirt, facedown. You roll her over so she doesn’t choke when she wakes, and begin to move on your way.

Her dark eyes open, looking up at the sky. She coughs, and you offer her your water-skin.

She refuses to take it. “I have nothing with which to pay you.”

“The water is a courtesy.”

“And the undying?”

You shift your feet. “That wasn't me.”

She leans back on her arms, and peers up at you sluggishly. “You have no staff.”

“Well-noticed.” You offer a hand.

She doesn’t take it. “There is one other mage who summons without a staff. This war is his design.”

“I am no summoner.”

“Yet you summon the dead.”

You watch her mutely.

“Have I revived you before?” You say at last.

“No, but I've heard of you. You travel alone, and revive villeins when others raise kings.”

You bristle, and take a step backwards. “Your payment is commuted,” you say, and retreat as fast as the mud will allow.

It is not fast at all.

“Wait!” She curses, and coughs furiously. There's a rending, and the slap of footsteps.

You turn. This time, when you offer herr water, she drinks.

“I'm Merra.” She hands the skin back, and wipes her mouth.

“I'm no-one,” you say, which is true enough. You fasten the skin to your belt, and, again, walk away.

Merra keeps pace with you. “I heard you were once a Svvein.”

You remain silent, heading back across the marshland to see how far she will follow. This is the path you cleared earlier– free of bodies– and you retrace your steps where you can. Merra follows all the while, and her sword creaks at her belt.

“Have you no business to attend to?” You say, at last.

“No more than you,” she says, with a smile in her voice.

“I have my living.”

“Then attend to it,” she says. “You think I haven't noticed you're avoiding the dead?”

“Necromancing is a hallowed ritual,” you say.

She scoffs. “Which is why you perform it in galoshes.”

You look down. “There's nothing wrong with my galoshes.”

“Most mage-shoes are hidden by their robes,” she muses. “But I'd imagine mage-shoes are made waterproof by enchantment.”

“That would be a waste of enchantment.”

“And what of your robes, or lack thereof?”

You grunt. “The war destroyed Mages' Hill.”

“Yes, many years ago. But I have seen robes since, and mages too.”

“And what of their magikal shoes?” You ask.

She purses her lips, and surveys the landscape. “There were bodies here, Necromancer. Did you resurrect them all?”

You say nothing.

“It's just past noon,” she reasons. “And this swamp was full of the fallen. How did you recall them all in one morning?”

You glance at her. “How can you be sure I revived you on the same day you fell?”

“As surely as I know there are no maggots in my mouth and nose.”

“Perhaps you have them on the brain.”

You spy the valley up ahead, and slow your pace. You're not eager to return to the villages, with their heroes and veterans and small opportunities; but you can't cross the marshland with Merra- there are too many bodies. Tentatively, you turn onto the village path.

“What killed you?” You enquire, as you walk along.

Merra gives you a look.

“It must have been significant,” you say. “For not all undying know they are so.”

She falls silent, and so do you.

•

You encounter a body on the way into Vale-Egar.

It's a maimed thing, old, bloated, and past its prime. Ordinarily, you wouldn't worry about it- you never seem to wake those who are too far gone- but, today, you pass it with a kind of trepidation. When nothing happens, you let out a breath.

“He looked like a noble,” Merra says, as you hurry past.

“Nothing noble is found in Vale-Egar, especially not by the side of the road.”

“Is that why you won't resurrect him?”

“No,” you say. “It's because he won't come back.”

•

The next body you stumble upon is more intact: a young man with a gaunt face who might as well be sleeping. He's hunched over and leaning against the wall, a tin clutched in his frozen hand. You don't wonder how it stays there- you know better than anyone that rigour mortis begins in the fingers.

As you pass, some colour returns to his face. You hurry Merra along.

The next person you pass is alive, and welcomes you to the village with a smile.

You have no coin with which to pay, but it's no matter. The presence of Merra's sword is payment enough, for there is a bed for all warriors in Vale-Egar.

“That explains why it's so crowded,” you say, as you untie your shoes and leave them at the foot of the bed. You offer to sleep on the floor, but Merra won't hear of it. Apparently, she's got it into her head that she owes you a life-debt. Tonight, you are too tired to argue, so you lay down beside her.

For a long while, she watches you.

The room in this upstairs tavern contains five beds, all of which are crammed with people. You lie on your back and listen to their breathing. This is the closest you've been to the living in a while, and so many, at that. You recall the last time you were around people, of the dormitories on Mages' Hill.

You can feel Merra's breath on your cheek.

“You said not all undead know they are so,” she says.

“Yes,” you murmur.

“So, that beggar outside-?”

“He was merely sleeping.” You move to roll over, but she catches you by the shoulder.

“Credit me some intellect.” She peers down at you. “It was fast; faster than any magecraft I've seen. How did you do it?”

The others in the room are all sleeping soundly.

“I know not how,” you say, in a single breath.

•

In the morning, you leave the village.

“You have no staff,” Merra says, again.

You watch her for a moment. All these years, the staff was your only companion, and now, you have another.

“I haven't the skill to make one,” you admit.

“So, you are no mage.”

“No.”

“And yet you raise the dead.”

•

Over the coming days, Merra accompanies you across the marshland, and the dead spring up in your wake. There's no coin to speak of, but the soldiers pledge fealty to you. You tell them you already have a knight, and a fine one, at that. Merra smiles, as a knight clad in well-made plate armor shakes his head and walks away.

“Have you seen her fight?” Asks another, dressed in mail.

You bristle. “No, but neither, sir, have you.”

He offers her his armor, but she won't take it.

“I travel light.”

•

As you traverse the valley, the marshland turns to grass. You encounter fewer bodies, and those you find are too degraded to wake.

The horizon alights with a flash, and Merra freezes. Thunder roils over the hills.

“You never did tell me what moved you to fight,” you say, quietly.

“I had a quest,” she says, simply. Her hair whispers in the wind, and you nod.

“Then you are bound to it.”

She looks at you with pleading eyes. “But I was dead.”

You shake your head. “It doesn't work like that.”

Thunder resounds.

After a day's travel, the once-lush grass turns to scorched earth underfoot. You stop in your tracks.

“This is Vale-Meg'ed.”

•

Amongst the rubble, there is but one field undisturbed by ash. It's the stable where you hid from the blacksmith all those years ago. Most unusually of all, the gate which you closed has since remained intact.

The horse stands alone in the field, her tail flicking back and forth. She's much older now, and has a grey streak on her nose, but you'd know her anywhere.

“You survived the war,” you comment, as you reach for her mane. She huffs, and hoofs at the dirt. You raise an eyebrow, and turn to Merra. “Could you open the gate?”

She opens it, and the horse races through the ruined grove. You follow behind.

Merra gasps. Right before your eyes, the charred treetops flourish and bear fruit. The horse gallops towards them, and you sprint to catch up.

You chuckle, softly. “Do you forgive me now, mare?”

The horse scarfs down her apples, and allows you to pet her mane.

•

You sleep in the rubble of the magery, and Merra takes first watch. The next morning, you are woken by the sun.

“You didn’t wake me,” you say.

“No,” she says, as she watches the sunrise.

You fall silent. This is her quest, not yours.

•

You spend the day on Mage’s Hill. Merra prepares barricades, and whets her blade. Somehow, you feel as if you've known her a lifetime.

You search the ruins one last time, and are not surprised when you find it, in the remains of the novice quarters.

It is a first-hewn staff. The wood crackles beneath your fingertips.

The ruins are painted orange by sunset.

•

Past nightfall, you remain alert. You sit a few paces from Merra, twisting the staff in your hands. There's a familiarity about it you cannot place, a raw power which stings you if you hold it tight.

The wind picks up suddenly. Too suddenly.

“This is magewind!” She yells.

You jump to attention. It's been many years since you've felt anything like it, but it chills you to the bone. All you can picture is that night on Mages' Hill, on the eve of war: a staff, held aloft as red robes billowed in the breeze.

Tonight, a mass moves upon you: denser than storm itself.

“Merra!” You cry, as the gale sweeps her aside. She catches hold of one of the barricades; hefty chunks of stone which buckle under the pressure.

You run for her, but the wind picks you up like a ragdoll. You fall, and scrape upon every rock as you’re dragged dowhill. You are drowning in wind itself, the breath rivened from you faster than you can draw it. Your clothes tear, then your flesh. You thrust the staff forwards, blindly, and puncture an air pocket. You push down, and pressure slaps you back. You tumble again and again, until at last you make contact with the ground.

You lie, spread-eagled on the floor.

A numbness overtakes you. You grip the staff so tight that it flares with energy.

The sky above you dances. Merra lunges at clouds, and purple lightning arcs around her. A shadow flits through the smog, impossibly light and fast.

The shape moves upon you: dark, tattered robes, deeper than blood, deeper than red, but unmistakably the same robes from all those years ago, held together by magiks. His boots- made of a fine, red leather, have similar weatherproofing, and your eyes dart to Merra.

“Face me,” says the storm.

Your head tilts back to observe him. It hurts to watch, this splicing-together of mage and fury. You try to turn away, but the wind holds you fast. You see Merra from the corner of your eye, silhouetted against the storm.

The Summoner moves upon you slowly, as if he isn't used to walking. “You’re no mage,” he says, at last.

On the hill, Merra drives her sword into the clouds, but The Summoner ignores her. He circles around you. Far too slowly, the feeling returns to your legs.

“Years ago, when the battle was won and there were less bodies on the battlefield than there should be; I heard the strangest whispers from the valley.” He speaks in a low voice, barely above a whisper, but the breeze carries every word. “They spoke of a novice, who summoned the dead.” He turns his attention back to the top of the hill, where Merra is fighting shadows. “You have resurrected one of mine.” He raises a hand. “It’s time to correct that mistake.”

Lightning connects with the tip of Merra’s sword, and the flash lights up the mountainside.

“Mer…” you twitch.

Soil cascades from the heavens, and you hold the staff aloft. “Heed me,” you say. “Heed me!”

It might as well be a twig.

The Summoner laughs. “You cannot resurrect ash.”

You roll onto your front, too weak to stand. For the first time in your life, you attempt to use your powers with intention. You draw runes in the dirt and chant long-forgotten spells, as The Summoner watches with cold amusement.

“You don't know our craft. The magik you do have is little more than a parlour trick.”

“I knew enough to thwart you,” you wheeze.

“Can you undo this, Pretender?”

He unfurls his palm, and the storm rages louder than before. It howls and howls, and lightning blasts the ground until Mage’s Hill is cratered.

Earth is loosened. Stones and rocks turn to vapor, and become part of the storm.

You crawl towards the place where Merra was standing, though you know it is useless. You might as well be crawling through mud in the swamp where you found her. There's an uphill climb past jagged rocks, and another fall would kill you. You have never had to un-make your own death. You wait, as the land continues to slide.

The hill remains un-mended. This cannot be undone– but you can still fight.

“This staff was yours,” you whisper. You haven't seen it since you were three-and-ten, but you recognise it's power.

“Yes.” He holds out a hand, and it flies to him. The staff cracks with energy, and he weighs it in his palm. “I have surpassed the need to bind my magik to the physical realm. But you… You cannot even cast an illusion.” He tosses the staff back to you, and it lands in the dirt.

You make no attempt to pick it up.

“You saw that first summoning spell on Mages' Hill, and were powerless to stop me then. What makes you think you can stand against me now?” His hand forms a fist.

For the first time in your life, lightning makes no effort to avoid you. It arches out of the sky, and bears down on you again and again. You lie in the dirt. You know there is no escape, for this is the mage who commands the four winds as he pleases.

You should be dead, like Merra.

The Summoner’s voice booms, magnified tenfold by the storm. “All that I call for comes to me but The Dead. You have hidden that power from me for too long!”

You open your eyes. A flash of silver runs down the hillside, too small to be lightning. You steady your breathing, and fix your gaze on The Summoner.

“You are no chosen one,” he bellows, as the light flashes again.

“No,” you gasp. “But she is.”

He turns, as Merra strikes true. It's a killing blow, perfectly aimed for the heart, but the storm coalesces around him, and the sword is ejected from his chest. Red blood whips around him, the same colour as his robes, as the heavens bend towards Merra. With a yell, she drives her sword into the ground, and the sky detonates. The energy flows through it once more, illuminating her skeleton, but she stands strong.

She grabs The Summoner with both hands, tearing his robes. He holds out a hand for his magestaff, and you close your fingers around it. It drags you through the dirt until you fall beside him, and you grasp his foot.

You have never needed to fight before, and you're not suited for it. Your attempts to trip him are met with a single kick to the forearm, as the wind tears at you. The lightning which rains down upon you hits all three of you indiscriminately, but The Summoner only grows stronger from each strike. He holds his arms out, bathing in it, as Merra wrenches her sword free.

The blade swings in a wide arc. It hits him at the same moment the lightning does.

For a moment, they are bound together; Knight and Summoner both. They fall as one unit, and crumple to the ground.

Merra smoulders. You struggle towards her. Your back stings; patches exposed to the open air as rainwater falls into the cuts.

Though it feels like an age, you reach her. The Summoner lies mere inches away, motionless.

You place your hands on either side of Merra’s head, and call on a power you have no control over.

With surprising strength, her hands push yours away.

“You must leave this place,” she whispers. “Leave, or he'll never die.”

You grasp her hands with your own. “But you will live.”

Her laugh is a death rattle. “He has killed so many. What's one more?”

You shake your head, and force yourself upwards. Your arms tremble with effort; your legs won't respond.

The Summoner does not stir.

“Leave,” Merra utters.

You fall at her side. “I cannot.”

•

You're not sure for how long you lie there. It could be days, it could be mere hours.

The storm passes on, though the skies remain grey.

The horse trots towards you, and, at last, you find the strength to sit up.

“Merra,” you say.

She looks up.

The two of you struggle to stand, sliding in the mud as you do.

You stroke the mare. The grey streak has disappeared from her nose, and Merra notices it too. She scratches her ears, and you let out a breath.

“A fine steed,” you say, “For an immortal knight.”

She looks at you with wonder. Neither of you know if it is true.

No one has ever died in your attendance before, and you've yet to see if it's possible. As you leave the crater which was once Mages’ Hill, ash falls upon you, followed by light rain. Merra tenses, but says nothing as she climbs onto the horse. She helps you on, and the horse moves in a direction of her choosing.

Neither of you turn to see what becomes of The Summoner’s remains, but the rain doesn't follow you for long. There begins a light sunshine, and the horse gains to a canter, as Merra hugs her mane for balance, and you cling to Merra for yours. She laughs, and spurs the horse onwards with a shout.

The three of you ride towards Vale-Egar.

#writing-prompt-s #writing prompts #writing fills #making this its own post #short story #thank you Ursula Le. Guin you are the blueprint #long post

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uraichievents · 8 months ago

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UraIchi Week 2024

Monday, July 1st, 2024 - Sunday, July 7th, 2024

AO3 Collection

Full Prompts List Submitted This Year

(Click images to enlarge. Alt text under the cut.)

What is UraIchi Week?

It’s a week-long fanworks event to promote the Urahara Kisuke x Kurosaki Ichigo ship. There’s no sign-up, it’s just for fun, and everybody can participate. Completed works and wips are both acceptable, and any type of fanwork (fanfic, fanart, gifsets, etc.) is welcome. NSFW and/or potentially trigger-y content is allowed, although please remember to tag your works properly.

The ship itself can be written romantically or platonically, as lovers or friends or even enemies, so long as it stars these two characters together in some way. Poly ships are also fine so long as Ichigo and Kisuke are still the focus of the fanwork. And crossovers and fusions are also allowed even if it isn’t one of the given prompts for the event. Basically, anything goes, and the only criteria is that it has to be UraIchi-centric.

Posting:

UraIchi Week is hosted here on Tumblr and on AO3. For posts on Tumblr, remember to ping @uraichievents and tag #UraIchi Week 2024. For AO3, you can add your work(s) to the collection linked up above. You are also welcome to join the UraIchi Discord server if you haven’t already and come and talk about what you’re working on!

Themes:

July 1st, Day 1: i've met you before / i'll meet you again / this is the first time we've met.. right?

Time Travel / Dimension Travel

Identity Porn / Hidden Identities

“I've suffered from traumatic dreams of my past lives since I was a child, and I'm just now realizing that coming up to a beautiful stranger who looks like someone I've seen die a thousand times in a thousand different ways at a bar and asking if we've met before sounds a lot like a come-on haha no wait come back that doesn't mean I'm not desperately attracted to you please kiss me again” AU

July 2nd, Day 2: It's fact that killable problems are not real problems.

Murder Husbands

Ichigo is Deadpool / unbreakable / any other accidentally immortal being who is really kind of annoyed about it (because it’s boring, and he’s still young enough to be within his lifespan, but it sure takes the fun out of fighting).

All the times Ichigo died, he ACTUALLY died, he just came back. Every time he comes back, he comes back Wronger.

July 3rd, Day 3: Things I Should've Told You / Things I Don't Tell Anyone Else

The skeletons in your closet are about to overflow. Would you like me to tidy it up?

Ichigo is experimenting with self-expression, a hobby, etc., making up for lost time as a regular teenager. Urahara is always the first one (sometimes only one) to see or hear about a new idea.

“The person I trust most is you.”

July 4th, Day 4: Sword and Shield

I am yours to command, use me as you please.

Shiba!Ichigo and Second Division!Kisuke

Summoner/Mage AU: Paired summons who are good apart but unmatched together.

July 5th, Day 5: That One is Mine

Hollow Instincts / Feral Protective

Possessive!Kisuke: He stepped aside for Sui-Feng because Yoruichi was always master first and friend second and love interest never, and because Yoruichi wanted her in a way she's never wanted him. But Ichigo is different, and everyone soon realizes that when Kisuke truly wants something, he always gets it in the end.

“Death can’t have you. You’re mine.”

July 6th, Day 6: Monsters come in all shapes and sizes. Some are born, some are made, and some decide being a monster's pretty fucking cool.

Visored!Urahara Kisuke AU / Vasto Lorde!Kurosaki Ichigo AU

“Ichigo forges a friendship with his Hollow in the Shattered Shaft” AU

vs. Gotei 13 AU: Ichigo time travels back from a future where he was chained to the throne as the next Soul King by the Shinigami.

July 7th, Day 7: Creator’s Choice!

As always, the above prompts are all optional, and you’re free to come with your own ideas. You can also find an excel sheet with all the prompts submitted this year linked up above, so feel free to look through that if you want, and you can also make a copy for yourself.

And that’s it! We’re looking forward to what everyone comes up with!

#psa #uraichi #uraichi week 2024 #uraichi week #bleach

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green-eyedfirework · 7 months ago

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It was a slow day, and Dick was finally getting around to reorganizing his herbs after Tim and Cass had gone through them. He loved his little siblings, he really did, but Tim’s organizational system could only be comprehended by him, and Cass had a bad habit of not cleaning up after herself. His last client had hobbled home to finish resting her once-broken ankle, the house call to the new mother and baby was over in early morning, and he had all the time to rearrange his cupboard.

The door creaked, and a shift of fresh air tugged at his hair, accompanied by heavy, bold footsteps.

Well. Dick stared at the array of herbs spread around him and sighed. Maybe he should invite Jason over, his little brother wouldn’t be able to help himself from organizing Dick’s stuff. “I’m coming,” Dick called out, levering himself off the floor and clearing a path to the front with a snap of his fingers.

Three sets of footsteps and no greeting, so Dick wasn’t expecting anyone from the village. He lived a little further into the woods—closer to the plants he needed and the wild call of nature he used to replenish his magic—but most of his clients came from the village. They were familiar and friendly.

He sensed the spark of wild magic a second before he saw the scowls on their faces. Werewolves.

“Hello,” he said pleasantly. “What can I do for you today?”

The one in the lead, silver hair bound tightly in a braid, bared her teeth at him. It would’ve been a lot more intimidating if she wasn’t a teenager. “You can come with us, mage,” she sneered, “We require your services.”

There was a chill down his spine, easily brushed off. Everyone and their pet wanted a collared mage—the trouble was putting the collar on them in the first place. Someone like Dick, who’d honed their magic for years? It would be easier to put a leash on a werewolf.

Healing and killing were two sides of the same coin, after all.

“Are you injured? Is someone in your pack injured?” Dick asked, still pleasant as he sent out a testing probe. Three werewolves here, three more skulking at his back window, two outside the front door. No more in the immediate vicinity, but their pack had be close by for a show of force this large.

The posturing werewolf snapped her teeth. “We have enough wolves to take you down,” she threatened, “Either you come with us quietly, or we’ll drag you behind us.”

Dick let his smile drop. “Well,” he said in the tone of voice he used whenever he found Tim and Damian fighting, “That’s rude.”

On his little brothers, it could barely quiet a vehement argument. On the wolves, it sent them skittering a step back, hackles raised.

“You’re coming with us,” the wolf said, but her voice wavered, her gaze locked on his hands as he rested them on the table.

The door behind them swung open. In the distance, they could hear growls and curses. “You should probably not threaten a mage in their own home,” Dick chided lightly, and flicked his fingers.

The wolf’s eyes widened to pale blue saucers, but she couldn’t get out more than a half-strangled, “Wait—” before they were spun out and the door slammed shut behind them.

Dick exhaled slowly, and let the sparks of magic recede back under his skin. Then he stepped back, over the piles of unsorted jars, and picked up his satchel.

~#~

The curse is a nasty, sunken, barbed thing. Half of it is hidden, which means that Dick spends more of his magic than is wise before he realizes the scope of the thing, realizes he can’t just yank the thing out.

Under his hands, the wolf is screaming. He does his best to tune it out.

The surge of magic battling magic is enough to keep any interference away, so Dick settles into the slower, longer, more meticulous path of prying the curse out, tendril by tendril. It fights his attempts to destroy it as he goes, so he has to expend even more magic on containing it until he can get the whole thing out.

It’s tedious, draining work. It’s gone firmly dark by the time he finishes sliding the last piece out, and the twist it takes to compress the curse into a tiny speck and shred it to whispers nearly makes him stagger. His magic reserves have gone distressingly low.

Dick abruptly remembers where he is. The camp around him is full of wolf growling, loud and agitated. His patient is passed out, skin gray and clammy and looking ten times worse than when Dick started. The cuts—the cuts are bleeding freely, red and thick.

He needs to leave. He has just enough magic to put on a show of force if needed, and he needs every last sliver to bluff his way out. He cannot be caught here. Not by a pack that’s already expressed interest in putting a collar around his neck.

The boy is bleeding. He will die, werewolf healing or not. Dick can sense the corruption the curse wrecked, magic gone but its effects lingering. If he heals this, it’ll take every scrap of magic he has left.

It’s a choice that’s not a choice. Dick’s a healer. He can’t go against his nature.

Dick breathes in and breathes out, and lets his magic pour out.

Heart and lungs and kidney and liver, a thousand tears in muscle where the wolf tried to fight the curse, blood loss and weakened bone and a hundred small damages. The cuts, large and bloody, slowly knitted together under his trembling fingers. Too slowly.

His vision is going black. Dick fights it, fights it with every breath. As long as he can remain upright when it’s done, as long as he can walk out—he’s proved his fighting capabilities, as long as he gives them no reason to doubt him—

Dick’s head swims. When he forces himself back to consciousness, he’s half-collapsed against the bed. He uses the movement to examine the wounds, as though that was his intention all along, his heart pounding loud and sluggish. They’re almost closed.

Something pops in his ears and the growling disappears to a low buzzing.

He does one last check for any lingering damage as pink, waxy skin unfurls across the wounds. There are some minor injuries left, but the werewolf can heal those on his own as soon as he’s gotten some food.

It’s time for him to go.

Dick curls shaking hands on the edge of the bed and allows himself one breath before he lets go. Everything is curiously muffled, muffled and ringing, and when he drags his head up, he can see the alpha on the other side of the bed.

Mouth moving. He’s saying something. Dick can’t hear him.

He takes a step back, away from the bed, away from the alpha—he needs to get out, needs to watch for a path, needs to avoid being cornered because all he has is dregs and it’s not enough to scare off a bear.

His head aches, like someone took a hammer to it.

Dick needs to leave. Now. Only he’s not sure he can turn without everything spinning. The ground feels like it’s roiling under his feet.

He blinks, and the alpha is suddenly much closer. Dick stumbles back another step in surprise. His stomach turns over, but there’s nothing in it. He worked too long and without food.

Dick has to get out. He has to—everything inside him is screaming danger—he can’t stay, they want to keep him, he needs to leave—

Something wet touches his lips. Dick raises a hand, feeling like he’s moving underwater, and wipes it across his mouth.

It comes away red.

It’s the last thing he remembers seeing.

~#~

No one can get to Grant, no one can even touch him with all the magic swirling around the mage, and Slade is forced to stand there, a few steps away, and watch his firstborn scream under the onslaught.

Nothing works to stop it. Not words, not weapons, not every magic-dampening sigil they’ve ever collected. Slade can do nothing but wait.

Grant stops screaming. His wounds run red and red and red. Slade’s claws are fully extended—he will tear the mage from limb to limb if it’s the last thing he does. He just needs an opening.

Slade doesn’t know how long before the magic falters. It’s just a second, but the second is enough to register how much worse Grant looks, like the mage is draining his life away. By the gods and the moon, they should’ve left it alone. At least Slade would’ve been able to hold his son while he died. At least he wouldn’t be in so much pain.

The magic swirls back before anyone can attack, and the pack paces restlessly along the perimeter. Everyone’s expressions are twisted in grief and fury.

The mage will not leave here alive. That much Slade swears.

The magic is…quieting almost. Like it’s slowly winding down. Still impenetrable—Rose tries and fails to get past it, but the shimmer is receding. Slade stares at Grant, half-dreading that his son is already dead.

But Grant’s chest still rises and falls. The amount of blood loss is…shrinking. The wounds seem to be closing over. In fact, when Slade darts a glance at his son’s face, Grant appears to be getting better.

His skin is no longer ashen, his breaths are fuller, and as the magic recedes, Slade steps forward, stuck in an incredulous daze. Grant looks better. Grant looks like he’s healing.

Slade pays no attention to the mage’s movements, his gaze fixed on the miracle in front of him.

The magic dies down to nothing but flickers, and Slade can finally touch his son again. Grant is warm and alive and healthy under his fingers, and Slade lets out a shuddering gasp.

“Thank you,” he says hoarsely, lifting his gaze to the mage. He doesn’t know what the man did, but Grant is alive, Grant is healed, Grant is safe. “I don’t know how I can ever repay you—”

The mage looks terrible. His skin is waxy and gray, his eyes sunken, his frame curled in on himself. He’s trembling, and his breaths keep breaking. As Slade watches, the mage takes a step back and nearly trips on flat ground.

“Hello?” Slade calls out slowly, tension creeping back in. “Hello, can you hear me?”

The mage looks at him blankly.

Slade rounds the bed, casting one last glance at Grant—alive, healthy, alive—before inching closer to the mage, who looks as worse as Grant had at the start. Slade doesn’t know a whole lot about mages and magic, but he doesn’t think this is a good thing.

“Can you hear me?” Slade repeats, before he notices the red creeping down from the mage’s ears. The mage’s expression has gone unfocused. There’s red creeping out of his nose too, blood smearing across his lips, and the mage raises a hand to wipe it off.

He blinks down at the blood on his hand. And then he crumples.

Slade is close enough to lunge and catch him before he cracks his head open on the ground, and the mage is alarmingly light. “What’s the matter with him?” Slade growls as the pack presses in, all concerned murmurs.

Villain manages to fight his way to the front. “Magic overuse,” he diagnoses after taking in the mage’s—too weak—pulse and examining his face. “He’s drained himself nearly dry.”

Slade looks back at Grant, sleeping peacefully on the cot, and down at the mage, who appears to be two and a half steps from death’s door.

“Will he recover?” he can hear himself ask. Slade was willing to do near anything for his son’s health, but to use a life to restore life? That kind of sacrifice, from someone not pack—

“He should. Time, and rest, and enough food. Come, he’s too cold, he needs to be kept warm.”

#my snippets #mage/wolf au #magical exhaustion #yet another one

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howtofightwrite · 1 year ago

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What do you think of the squishy wizard trope? Shouldn’t people that travel around and go “adventuring” have some baseline of athleticism?

So, we're back to a game design discussion, again.

The short version is, if it doesn't make sense to you, don't use it.

Squishy wizards are almost more of a gameplay consideration. If you have a game, and you're balancing ranged damage against melee damage, if your ranged damage units do enough damage, you can create a situation where melee damage straight up doesn't work. It's not viable. The 40k meme about the Tau comes to mind: “Sure, they suck in melee; too bad you'll never get there.”

If you tone down ranged unit's damage, that can easily create a situation where they become the ones who are irrelevant. Such was the experience of every level 1 Wizard in AD&D. Once in awhile, you can get into the perfect situation to end an encounter, but most of the time you're just biding your time until you get to level 5 and can learn to accidentally fireball your party's front line, but that is a long time from now.

If ranged units can do a lot of damage, they need to be fragile enough that you can remove them from the board. And the Tau comparison comes back to mind once again.

All of this combines to create a board environment, where melee fighters need to be tanky enough to get into combat and stay there. Ranged units need to be fragile enough that they can remove each other, deal enough damage to harass the melee units, without doing so much damage as to render them completely irrelevant to the board.

And, while you can build a story around that structure, you don't need to.

Gandalf isn't a fragile wizard. He's not some “book nerd,” who spent high school getting shoved into lockers. When the time comes, he goes toe to toe with a Balrog (or, the Balrog, whichever), and doesn't immediately die. He clearly manages to hold his own, in melee combat, with a massive monster. (In fairness, he's also not human. I mean, none of Tolkien's, “the race of men,” are conventionally human, but Middle Earth's Wizards are an entirely different race of beings.)

In a lot of games, solution is to give the frontline fighters a ridiculous amount of health. Now, I'm going to trash on D&D for a second, but consider that a 10th level Fighter should have somewhere around 94 - 114hp. Remember that critical hits represent some kind of significant injury. These are not just blows that connect with your armor and will leave a bruise, this is someone ran you through. Someone could crit on your fighter, with a long sword, and stab them in vital places at least 4, and probably 5 times, before it actually kills them. That's a comical amount of damage someone to suffer. (Now, granted, a 10th level character in D&D is basically a superhero. If you're thinking of Boromir's death in Jackson's Fellowship of the Rings, that is what it takes to put down a relatively high level fighter in D&D. Which is to say, hilarious amounts of abuse.)

If you signed up for that, cool. I'm not going to stop you. I'm not even going to tell you it's wrong. If you want to tear down a super-humanly powerful character through prolonged combat sequences, or due to attrition of multiple fights in quick succession, that works. I mean, hell, that's how DC killed Batman in the 90s.

If your wizard power fantasy is that a wispy intellectual gains cosmic power through hard academic study, cool. Again, that's entirely valid, and as I mentioned, it even fits into a power fantasy. If you were bullied as a teenager for your atypical interests, and habit of reading, here's a character that studies strange and esoteric subjects, and has real power as a result.

At the same time, it's entirely reasonable to have an averagely healthy mage, whether they study magic academically, or have some ingrained talent that they've honed, plop them down next to a veteran swordmaster who's fought in wars on nine continents with the scars to prove it, and while they may look a bit anemic in comparison to their buddy, is still in better shape than the average villager they interact with on a daily basis.

That's where I tend to land in all of this.

When you're creating characters for your writing, it can be helpful to assign them attributes. Now, I don't mean this in the literal RPG stat blocks. (I've tried that a few times, it doesn't really work for me.) But, just a few text descriptors (which, does sound like Fudge, come to think of it.) You might describe your mage as Smart, or Intellectual, Wise (or Absent Minded), Willful. You know, “wizard stuff.” If you describe your warrior as, Strong, Tough, Tenacious, and Cunning, you're not making the wizard squishy, you're making another character less squishy. A lot of the time, we set the base line by what other people are doing. It's reasonable to say your mage is less durable than your soldier. (Unless your mage has a reason to be that tough. Maybe they're from some frozen wasteland, and are just absolutely jacked from surviving in a hostile environment.) But, that comparison doesn't mean that your mage is deficient.

Now, on the other hand, frail characters can be interesting. You're taking out their ability to fight conventionally, so when they do start decisively ending situations, whether that's through their own creativity and guile, or sheer magical power, it can be very gratifying. And, to be clear, I am very fond of flawed characters, especially when they have to work within the framework of their flaws to find solutions, rather than just overcoming them through the power of love, friendship and mescaline.

When handled well, flaws are about creating limitations for how your characters can solve problems. These can also make your story more interesting. If you say, my character can't fight, (and you don't back down from that and just let them cheat so they can fight, because they're so goddamn special), they're going to need to find other solutions. That can result in a better, more interesting, and less predictable story.

-Starke

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#writing reference #writing advice #writing tips #how to fight write #starke answers

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hulloitsdani · 2 months ago

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i want to know your anna thoughts so bad hi.

Hullo! Sure I can provide some Anna thoughts! I have so god damn many. Some other characters are also going to work their way in here too, if you don’t mind. And buckle up, this is gonna be a long one. I got a whole short story for y’all here.

Without further ado, I present to you: The Commander Anna Post

Let’s have some fun, shall we?

So in the age discussion of the feh main cast from a while back, I mentioned how I accounted for Anna’s bizarre position in Askr’s military by making her a child soldier. She has been fighting since she was a young teenager and has logged a decade of combat experience at this point.

I want there to be some fun consequences for this. For example, Anna is rocking some very serious injuries that will likely be with her for the rest of her life. Most notable being her left shoulder. Just by looking at her in full commander regalia, it’s not obvious that there’s any kind of issue. But Anna can’t lift her left arm all the way anymore. Her armor does an excellent job covering up the inconsistency, as it doesn’t allow for that level of mobility anyway. But take the armor off and you can see her shoulder is an absolute mess. It is, and I quote, “the worst healing job I’ve ever seen” according to Veronica.

It’s a bizarre sight for the kid. It’s not the type of thing she expected to learn about an enemy commander. Perhaps THE enemy commander. But in this situation that hardly matters, as she is the group healer as they all trek deeper into the realm of the dead. And Veronica is tending to her wounds only to find the pitiful scarred skin, warped and uneven from a hastily rushed healing process. It’s from a long time ago, she explains. From when she was still just a foot solider. But that… doesn’t make sense does it? Was Bruno not her ally? He has the capacity to heal— he was the one who taught Veronica the little she knows. Even his worst attempts were leagues better than the work done here.

Anna can only shrug, a motion made mostly with her right shoulder. He didn’t reveal that he was a mage of any kind while he was with them. So, even if he wanted to, there’s a chance he could not afford to. Veronica doesn’t know what to say to that. There’s this… uncomfortable knowing between the two of them. They know now, in retrospect, that swallowing down the truth like that must have ate Bruno alive. Just another reason for his sorry state that they didn’t catch until it was nearly too late. Add that to the pile of tiny behaviors that now make sense, right? The intensity of his expression as he insisted Veronica learn how to heal despite her protests and the daggers he’d stare into the intricate scaring on Anna’s shoulder. Throw them all in. Every last piece.

Commander Anna looks at the princess and unexpectedly breaks the tension with a laugh. You see, it’s funny, because this is exactly how she started to figure out Zacharias was Bruno. Very few know about her shoulder. She’s not exactly brazen about it, nor do the people she interacts with have the medical knowledge to glean how serious it is. She doubts even Kiran knows, to be honest. The only person who knows without a shadow of a doubt is Zacharias, because he was there when it happened. He’s probably the reason why she survived that day at all. So, you must imagine her surprise, when a masked stranger targeted this weakness and forced her to fight left handed. It was the most bizarre fight of her life! Fighting someone who clearly knew her, but she herself could not place!

Veronica was not there, but she can picture the lunacy of it. Bruno fighting his comrade as the commander attempted to fight a stranger. She hasn’t really seen Anna entirely thrown off before, but knowing that her brother managed it brings her satisfaction. She deserves it after all the times her and the rest of these fools have done it to Veronica. Feels like comeuppance. She chuckles. They both do. Gods she’s having a moment with the enemy commander. What has the world come to?

Fjorm has a far less positive reaction to piecing it together. After the events of book 2, she knows her time is short. She… cannot face the remains of her family in this state. It would be a slow painful death to rot away behind castle walls and wheeze into soft silks. No, she would much rather die on her feet. Put her body to good use while it’s still able.

So she trains. She trains until she feels her bones threaten to snap. She must have been at it for hours before the commander offers to spar her. With how busy Anna normally is, it’s a rather rare opportunity to spar one on one. Fjorm instantly leaps for the chance.

So they fight, and Fjorm can see it. The way her left arm lags and the scarring that curls out from beneath her sleeve. Burns maybe? Possible electricity? Clearly an old injury from a mage. A weakness in her defenses that she can exploit, surely.

Anna makes no such thing possible. Maybe she learned since her fight with Bruno or maybe Fjorm isn’t fast enough to take advantage of it, but Anna easily evades any attempt to use this against her. Focusing her left just seems to earn Fjorm a swift jab in return. From there, the fight might already be over. Anna’s left arm might be lacking but her legs and mobility sure aren’t. She takes the opportunity to effortlessly bully her way into Fjorm’s space and renders her lance useless. It’s infuriating, but Fjorm is learning. She can do this— she has to. Ten losses deep is when Anna calls it. They put good work in and it’s time for lunch!

Fjorm is ready to throw her lance into the sun.

She insists she can keep going, but the commander is not budging. Still, she tries to push her luck. But once a look of annoyance makes a home on her features, Fjorm knows that’s it. Another disappointing loss. Damnit. She turns to find someone else to spar, but is very surprised to find Anna will not allow such a thing. They are both going to take a break, or Fjorm might find herself barred from the training grounds. She states that if Fjorm cannot be trusted to keep her own wellbeing in mind, then she cannot be trusted out here at all.

However, Anna provides her with a singular counter offer. This can all be avoided if Fjorm tells her what’s wrong. Because she isn’t stupid, something is clearly amiss. And Fjorm— at wits end and most definitely exhausted, dehydrated, and starving—flips her lid a bit. Begins to go off. She’s angry at Anna, and her stupid backswing with her axe, and her own inability to deal with it despite her inherent disadvantage with a lance, and how she keeps failing in front of the people here, and how weak she must appear, and how even the commander of an army in Askr is outclassing her as a warrior and leader, and how she can’t even hate her for it because Anna is just doing her job, and how that all means that the problem must lie within herself!!!

That’s, uh, wow. That’s more than Anna bargained for. She briefly internally wishes that Kiran or Sharena was here right now, as they’re far better at this type of thing. Maybe… she should just go for the most obvious one, yeah? Yeah! Anna isn’t a leader. Commanding people and leading them are vastly different skills. Complimentary! But different.

Look, on ledger, the order entirely under her name, but in practice it is run by four people. Alfonse, Sharena, Kiran, and herself. And it very much HAS to be. The order operates at such a large scale now that the division of labor was necessary. Anna is not so egotistical to think she could run this whole operation by herself, either.

This includes the actual leadership position of the order. Anna is very good at telling people what to do and when to do it, but actually rallying people to a cause? That’s wayyy above her pay grade. Hardly has the force of personality to pull that off. But the others do, and so does Fjorm. Hell, Fjorm has that is SPADES. Despite having lost just about everything, she managed to rally her broken beaten homeland against Surtr and Muspel through sheer force of will. That’s kind of insane, and it’s a little bizarre to the commander that the savior of Nifil can’t see that.

Besides, she’s not a better fighter than Fjorm either. She quite physically can’t be! Fjorm is angry that she couldn’t defeat her in less than ideal circumstances, but let’s be real, all she needs is a little practice. And maybe a full eight hours of sleep. And some food. And water. Can you see what she’s putting down here? The only real leg up Anna has on Fjorm is that she’s going to ask for help, despite the heavy hit to her ego. It’s why the order exists as it does, after all.

That conversation leaves Fjorm with a lot to think about. Both as a person and of her view of Anna. She apologizes for behavior and swears to do better. As proof of her determination, she takes her up on the offer of lunch, much to Anna’s amusement.

Much later down the line, Sharena learns— PROPERLY learns, within the realm of dreams. She’s not blind though. Over the years she has noticed the scaring and the favoring of her right hand. Soooo, Sharena makes an effort to cover her! Stick by her left! Her massive shield is more than capable of protecting her too! And that’s the routine they fall seamlessly into as they follow Peony through Freyr’s dream land and Freya’s nightmare.

Anna generally deals with the challenges of that place better than the rest, for the aforementioned reasons. She knows her limits, she asks for help, and she talks her problems through. The vulnerability may be uncomfortable for her at times, but it is not enough to prevent her from doing so in order to progress smoothly. It might hurt her pride a little as commander, but Sharena and Alfonse are her friends, no? She can say that now, after walking through literal hell and back with them. So she doesn’t mind if they are the ones to see the child she grew around to protect.

Rather angry kid, if you can believe it! Stubborn too. Getting split and copied throughout time and space as a result of Askr and Embla’s never ending war had that effect. And Sharena gets to see that little girl, stubbornly clinging to her axe, bleeding from a wound on her leg that she knows one day will scar over.

It’s from one of the first battles she was ever in, Anna explains. As a merchant, her dad saw it fit to train her in order to defend herself from bandits. And she had put those skills to use before— but not like this. Never like this. It was the first true fight for her life. Not very pleasant, as you can imagine! She still gets nightmares sometimes, as you can see. Happened a few times in the realm of the dead actually. But, luckily, it no longer haunts her as much as it once did. It’s just a scar on her leg now!

The sentiment doesn’t comfort Sharena much. This is, frankly, awful! She hates how scared she looks! A-and how large the wound on her leg is! She hates how… unaware of it she personally was! Why didn’t Anna tell her about this sooner? To which Anna can only shrug. Nobody asked, and if she’s being honest, she probably wouldn’t have told. Not the whole truth anyway. She can admit when she needs help but… she’s still human. It’s a lot easier to admit she had a nightmare than admit that she finds the very thought of bleeding out a worse death than drowning. Still gets her the help she needs, without being more vulnerable than necessary. Sharena rests her head on her shoulder.

“Are all of your scars like this?”

Anna… blinks. No. They’re not. Not even the one on her leg is all bad. She was saved by this elderly couple and their son, who saw the fighting and began dragging injured soldiers off the battlefield. They made awful puns the whole time they stitched up her leg and gave her the best tea she ever had. Anna has bought a lot of different teas trying to find it, but to this day, she has no clue what it was. Makes it better, to be honest. Sharena looks at her expectantly, waiting for her to continue.

Ah, story time then? Okay. Well. Uh, this line on the inside of her elbow is from a bandit. Rather nasty encounter, but she returned the favor by shoving an entire container of expensive makeup powder into his eyes. Her dad was so mad but god it was so worth it. And this scar on her thumb is from one of her first times cooking in the road. She was pealing a potato but one of her sisters slammed into her and nearly took off her finger. This nick on her clavicle is from the first battle she ever won. When the enemy finally retreated she screamed so loud that her voice was raw for a week. Then there’s this scar underneath her chin, which has to be the most embarrassing ones she has. Zacharias and her had some leftover money one week and decided to treat themselves to a drink or two or five. In trying to make it back to the barracks, they both fell. Hard. She walked away with this, but Zacharias fully fractured his wrist. Explaining what happened to the healers the next morning was dreadful. And… and then there’s the one on her shoulder. Anna was actually recovering from it when she met Alfonse and Sharena.

The princess sits up for that one. Really? Gods she didn’t show it. And it’s because, on some level, she couldn’t. It was from the last battle before the shaky truce was called between Askr and Embla. The one Veronica will inevitably break. And the truce was called for good reason. The battle was hell on earth. Anna… nearly died there. She should have died there, frankly. A point blank strike from a lightning mage with metal armor in the rain should have been the last mistake she ever made. But by some miracle, it wasn’t.

… In retrospect, she thinks it’s because of Zacharias. Things got hazy after she went down, but knowing what they do now, he must have used his own magic to kill the mage and heal her. She didn’t walk out unscathed, but it was enough.

Haha, gods, she will never stop feeling guilty about him, will she?

Anyway, the injury was pretty bad. Her shoulder never moved the same again. But seeing as they were both recently hired to be Sharena and Alfonse’s retainers, they couldn’t exactly let Gustav know how serious it was. Might cost them the job. So a truly comical level of shenanigans went into ensuring it was kept secret. Including this game she created where every time Zacharias accidentally touched her injured shoulder, he would pay up 10 gold. He was not a very touchy guy, but even Sharena knew that this was something he just did. A tiny reassuring shoulder pat to convey that he was listening. So this was, perhaps, the best money making scheme Anna ever came up with. His apologetic look would shift so quickly into one of so much instant regret. And Sharena, upon reflection, remembers this.

WAIT WAIT WAIT SHE REMEMBERS THIS. THATS WHAT THE NOTE PASSING THING WAS!!!! Alfonse had pointed out in one meeting that the new retainers were passing something between each other and Sharena insisted it must have been notes because of how boringgggg it was. BUT NO IT WAS GOLD. ZACHARIAS TOUCHED HER SHOULDER EARLIER IN THAT MEETING AND SHE WINCED. HE THEN WAITED A WHILE BEFORE PAYING UP TO NOT MAKE IT OBVIOUS. THATS HILARIOUS!!!

Anna starts cackling as Sharena begins to line up all the pieces. The nightmare fully dissipating as she shares in this silly secret. There’s a chance she would have died with it. Hell, we know of a world where she probably did. This is not a story she’d even give to her family of merchants, who despite being direct reflections of her, do not share the scars she’s littered with. Never had to be, and thus don’t quite understand. But, Sharena does. All her friends do. And it feels weird to say that because real friends have always been in short supply. But gods this is too good. How absolutely absurd it is, that they are in the realm of dreams trying to find their missing friend and defeat the goddess who took them, and Commander Anna of the Order of Heroes is about to pop a lung laughing as she tells Princess Sharena of Askr about the fallout from the time she nearly died.

It’s dumb! This is dumb! And it’s possibly the happiest she’s ever been.

#WHOOOOO CREATIVE WRITING TIME LETS GOOOOOOOOOOOO #Wow this was in me and I need to get it OUT. Free fanfic for your reading pleasure god damn.#ah heck wait should I put this in a place to read fanfic? Is that allowed?#Problem for future Dani to solve because right now ITS ANNA TIME BABEYYYYYYYYYYY #So here’s some fun facts. I have some of these scenes already written as dialogue. Mainly the Fjorm bit and time Anna got one hit K.O.ed.#The later being part of a collection of scenes showcasing Bruno and Anna’s friendship before the events of the game #Wanna make a comic out of that real bad. I got pages sketched out and everything.#I will make it…. one day…. BUT UNTIL THEN ANNA SCAR TIME LETS GOOOOOOOOOO #Taking the ‘Anna and Kiran are the characters I have the most fun writing’ Chekhov’s gun off the wall #If you took the time to read all of this: thank you. genuinely.#Art is something I came around to during some time in middle school. Writing is the thing I’ve been doing for as long as I can remember.#And I like that Tumblr lets me to do both. Get to show them off in equal measure.#feh #fire emblem heroes #fire emblem #fe anna #feh anna #fe veronica #feh veronica #fe fjorm #feh fjorm #fe sharena #feh sharena #fe bruno #feh bruno #feh zacharias #fe zacharias #fe alfonse #ask answered #FEH Ted talk

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k-looking-glass-house · 1 year ago

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Sam Fairy Gala~ Flower and moonlight

Gah I'm a bit shy to share my "crazy" lore" about twisted wonderland, but you already know that I love making outfits.... Kinda the reason my mascot/"oc" can sew and create outfit.... I also have an obsession with the NRC staff.....hnnnnnnnn *help them*

Anyway in my lore Sam was an NRC student for only his 3rd years (around 17/18 y.o), getting his mage certificate and taking shortly after the shop! He already has his familiar K and tried all sort of way to get very rare items during his scholarship!

Mister Crewel was the almost futur NRC alchemy teacher, he tried an only girls school before thinking it would be only cutie, soft stuff and talk.... While it was only cat fight to panthers/lioness fight and love letters, with some crybabies moments (that's what he said!). He returned to his former school making Trein already tired about the situation! He tried each time to put every puppies in good stylish outfit!

Mister Crewel took a soft spot about Sam (knowing since his teenage days about Sam's grandfather and the shop) and vice versa. They help each other to get items they want (actually they kept from spilling:blackmailing the fact that they both smoke behind Mystery S shop, catching the other by surprise from time to time)~ And so Mister Crewel helped Sam getting some fairy powder, while K would help with sewing the fairies's dresses and they would both promote his fashion collection during the next Fairy Gala~

In the end the fairy gala is a success, K is revealed to eat blot (canon to her disney counterpart), Mister Crewel has fairy blood and can't stand alcohol and Sam believe in fairy tale and has one of the pure heart a fairy could sense (the Fairy Queen said so).

You can see more of it ....somewhere on my tumblr ah ah

Sam (NRC student)~ SR Moonlight De Vil suit

Summon Line: "Even shadows appear under the moon light, gnee hihihi" Groooovy!!: ....Finally....FINALLY HA HA HA!! I got the fairy powder! Home: I am ready, so are my friends on the other side gnee hihi~ Home Idle 1: I must say that when Mister Crewel told me that he could help....I didn't believe it at first! Looks like everyone has their secret! Home Idle 2: Fairies are truly something, my sisters* were right about them, back in our childhood stories! Home Idle 3: This night is truly something, between Mister Crewel "STAY!" and K making him berseck....*sigh* I must stay strong and not get eaten by shadows~ Home Idle - Login: Glitters! Jewel! Silk!! IN STOCK NOW! That's what I would say if I was a seller! Home Idle - Groovy: Thank you Ko-yousei-chan! Yes I'll give you Mister Crewel personal jewel designer contact~ Gnee hihi! Home Tap 1: Mister Crewel is part of the De Vil fashion's house, that's truly something, no wonder he has such style! Home Tap 2: If you want to attract fairies, be kind, be nice, be polite and pour a lot of glittery things! ....Also being handsome help! Home Tap 3: I don't need a bell to talk to fairies, we learned it with grandma it's important to talk to any kind of friends gnee hihi!! How? It's a secret, I'm not going to tell you! Home Tap 4: Arwwghhrr K please stop eating the flower, we'll get scold again by "KURUELLA"! Also stop eating the remain blot TOO!! Home Tap 5: I'll be sure to make good use of that fairy powder! Home Tap - Groovy: Ha ha ha! Somehow it was a good night! We had a lot of fun! Right everyone?!

.....we don't even see the lotus pattern huh....

-Credit-

Sam fairy gala (young version) concept done by me

The lanther bell was ref from "Handbook of ornament; a grammar of art, industrial and architectural designing in all its branches, for practical as well as theoretical use" (1900)

#twisted wonderland #twst #sam twisted wonderland #twst sam #k imeart

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astor-and-the-endless-ink · 2 months ago

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Astor’s Intro

✦ Christian

✦ 17

✦ She/he/they

✦ This is my writing and character art blog!

✦ @encre-sanguine is my main blog :3

✦ I change my name a lot, but I’ll always keep the and-the-endless-ink part so yk who I am XP

Works In Progress

🪽💫 The Gift and the Ghostspeaker 🌙🤍

-> Masterpost Link Here <-

On the planet of Zephan, three teenagers live their lives the way they always have.

Rhys Lucen—the son of the world’s ruler, the Ghostspeaker—lives in luxury with his family, including his secret and possibly cursed half-sister, Brynn. But when word gets out that three-year-old Brynn is alive, people start to panic and riot, and Rhys has to run for his and Brynn’s lives, aided by the same Ghosts that his father has the Gift of speaking to…

Sterling Pierce and his sister, Sage, struggle to survive their abusive Mage father’s magic addiction—which he feeds using them as an endless supply. But Sterling has the Gift of using magic as well, so when his father threatens to murder the siblings in a fit of rage, Sterling uses his power to fight back—killing his father, and nearly killing Sage by mistake. Now she needs a magic transfusion bigger than what any hospital on Zephan can provide, and there's only one way to gather more…

Kairo Rayos is descended from a long line of Ghostspeakers—one that ended with his infamous immortal father, Lev, who started the Lunari Alliance to fight the Ghosts’ rebellion against the Creator God, Solaios. Now Lev has been banished to the abandoned Blanklands surrounding Zephan City, and Kairo, thanks to a deal his father struck with the Ghostspeaker, is safe inside—but most Zephnic people don’t take kindly to followers of Solaios, especially immortal ones, and all Kai wants is peace. This kind of peace, however, can only come through the afterlife, and as his family and therapist are always quick to tell him, immortals can’t die. But when proof appears that they can—and have, as an immortal’s dead body was found in the Blanklands, seemingly murdered—Kai sets out to find the killer, and through them, eternal peace…

As Rhys finds himself assigned a seemingly impossible task from the Ghosts—killing every living immortal—and Sterling teams up with him to collect the immortals’ magic for Sage, they discover that things are not what they seem on Zephan, and that they're included in a prophecy called The End of Immortality. The question is whether or not the prophecy is true, let alone morally right—and will they find the supposed ‘chosen one’, who happens to be trying to get himself killed?

💚🗡 This Blood Will Remember ✒️🩷

Okay so it’s basically just vibes rn but I love it, stay tuned?

♠️♥️ Unsuited ♦️♣️

The Game for the Unsuited has officially reopened - and Alana Hargreaves, a girl with no proficiency in any of the four Suits of magic, is the first of the chosen Pawns.

She has a plan to win the Game without playing by the rules; anyone who had ever won before had gotten in, gone a bit insane thanks to the Game's mysterious challenges, developed Sanity magic, and gotten out. But if everything goes according to plan, Alana - and her best friend, Penn, who was chosen for the Game the year before - will learn a different Suit of magic and, once no longer Unsuited, be allowed to go back home.

But as Alana realizes upon entering the Game's giant forcefield, there are two problems with her plan:

One, Unsuited Pawns aren't the only ones playing - in fact, the Game is practically ruled by a Queen of Hearts Mage, and she doesn't want any of her victims to leave.

Two, Penn has almost lost her mind already, but Sanity wouldn't be her first Suit of magic; she now wields the legendary, reality-altering Suit of Creativity.

As Alana investigates Penn's strange new abilities and befriends other residents of the Game - including the Queen of Hearts' messenger brother, Ace, and Charlie, the Game's built-in AI assistant whose origins are somewhat murky - she discovers that the reason for the Game is darker than anyone would have guessed, and that to make it out alive she'll need more than her sanity...but will she fight her way out, or give in and give up her mind in the process?

🩸👻 Destined for Death 🕳️✉️

Nicholas Acker is a ghost—and a special one, because not every ghost can say they were killed by their best friend…who also happens to be a half-vampire-half-bloodwielder.

Jameson, said best friend, feels terrible for accidentally killing Nick—especially considering that he just got engaged.

So Jamie does what any decent gentleman would do: set out to kill Nick’s fiancee so they can be together in the afterlife.

But when Jamie’s undercover-vampire-hunter twin shows up at Nick’s funeral, bringing with him a whole new set of complications, and Nick runs into a teenage ghost with dreams of curing vampirism, they all have to team up to save themselves—and all vampires with hope of becoming human again.

💎⏳ The Soulrobbers 🗡🪨

It’s been a long time and I don't have a synopsis and I’m too lazy to write one, basically it’s about rocks with your souls in them and fighting over them like kindergarteners XD

#new intro post #intro post #introduction #blog intro #pinned intro #my wips #wips #current wip #writing wip #tgatg #the gift and the ghostspeaker #tbwr #this blood will remember #unsuited #dfd #destined for death #tsr #the soulrobbers

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eclecticprincecollector · 1 year ago

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The real lives of the great seven + my flower

Chaos

That is what it is, pure unadulterated chaos.

The cradle, the house my yuu grows up in, is full of it.

Whether it be Grimhilde chasing yuu to give her a bath, or Mary Elizabeth ( queen of hearts), depending on the day. ( they have a rooster)

You, my flower are naturally at the center of this chaos, getting front row seats to every inane argument, that these so called god tier mages get into.

Now, the conflicts in this household are divided into the following categories: The silent wars, the raging rows, the arson inducing kind and lastly the conflicts of your parents(7) vs you (yuu).

The silent wars occur only between the great seven when you were younger and include you in your teenage ' none of you get me' era.

Maleficent and Grimhilde are the ones most likely to he these types of conflicts, they last up to one week or so, with conversations like: " humph" "hmm" and you are like: " why is mama fighting with grandma" and Jafar is like sipping tea and saying " Fashion, dearest, fashion.".

Sometimes Jafar himself can have this with either one of the queens stated above.

The raging rows most obviously include Mary Elizabeth, usually with Ursula and Hades pitching in: " what do you mean i cAnT LEt fLoWer-" " I MEANT WHAT I SAID YOU USELESS TORCH LIGHT" " HOW DARE YOU VERTICALLY CHALLENGED MORTAL" sighing you ask "whose going to remind him all of you are immortal now.", "most certainly not me little fry" answered Ursula.

Ursula often instigates these occurrences, and sometimes even has a row of her own with Scar.

Speaking of him, he and Maleficent have a nasty habit of working out there...differences through elaborate, illeagal, ways. Arson being the most popular: "Hmm, only a dozen, my royal lizard you are losing at your own game." Gulping you say " Grandmas about to lose it." Indeed her eyes were slits at this point.

The last type of conflict, happens often as soon as puberty hits, you lot will be seeing more about it in future parts.

In conclusion when they aren't about to rip eachother apart on what you are wearing or doing or whats best for you or petty stuff in general, the g7 and you(yuu) are a lovely family.

Only dysfunctional 85% of the time.

Also, if you want to know who is called what and who calls you what, vote on it.

taglist

@twistedcece

Im not able to tag the other person who asked sorry ghosty.

Reblogs and likes are appreciated.

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #octanivelle #twisted wonderland #twst x oc #savanaclaw #pomefiore #octavinelle #Scarabia #ignihyde #heartslabyul

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nonokoko-is-daydreaming · 1 year ago

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Post-graduation hcs part 1

I have been thinking about what might await the boys once they graduate, realistically speaking. I'm tempted to do another hc series similar but them as parents or with a s/o or something 🙈. Sorry, some are shorter than others. Hope you like them:

🌹 Riddle

He moved in an apartment with Trey and Chenya temporarily until he has enough savings to live on his own, alternatively moves in with his s/o, if he has one, ideally after graduation. He had been preparing for an independent life away from home post-overblot without telling his parents and when the moment arrives there's probably a big fight between them, especially when Mrs Rosehearts discover he won't study to become a magical doctor like she planned.

In his birthday vignette he shows interest in studying law, so I think he would be a judge. To me it's canon because it's a reference of how the Queen of Hearts was the judge in Wonderland trials.

Riddle disappointed his parents —more like infuriated Mrs Rosehearts— and had multiple arguments with his mom about what his future but he no longer cares what she says. He might like to continue being in contact if they come to terms he's free to do whatever he wants with his life; most likely only his father accepts this. #DisneyletRiddlehaveatleastoneredeemedparentchallenge

Riddle will need time to heal and accept this rupture is the best for him, but he'll still look at the past and mourn for the childhood and family he never had. He likes his job but sometimes he feels beyond exhausted after certain cases. Praying he gets the growth spurt or self confidence on his height he deserves 🙏

♠ Deuce

Deuce had one goal already in mind since his early freshman days, being a police officer, and by his determination you can bet he worked on it until the dream became a reality. Needless to say mama spade is super proud of her boy.

Oh the delinquent angsty teenager becoming a police. The irony. The amount of comments and stories his mom will share with his friends when they come to their hometown. They're not letting it live down.

Trey mentioned in chapter 5 that the best mages from fire and policemen are recruited by an international organization called Arcane Response Unit, which if I remember correctly it's the one that responds in OB cases when they aren't extremely dangerous. I find it sweet imagining Riddle and him keep seeing each other due their jobs.

❤ Ace

I'm sorry I have no idea which career he could be interested in (╥﹏╥) Maybe when we know his unique magic and more about him I'll write something else. But you know that joke shop the Weasley twins had where they sold magic artifacts and miscellaneous stuff?? Yeah, that could suit him. I believe he could have more ambition than just owning a shop though...idk

After graduation I can see Ace, Deuce, Grim and MC choosing to share an apartment while studying their major studies, if MC is still in TWST of course. Main trouble gang now as roommates, imagine the chaos.

♣ Trey

If he's roommates with Chenya and Riddle, they split chores: he's in charge of the cooking most of the time. He's also the one who keeps most contact with Heartslabyul classmates due his popularity as the "dad friend", but his closest relationships aside from Riddle are with Cater and Adeuce. Often reminds them via message to rest and gets upset if he finds out they have been slacking on a healthy lifestyle after moving away from home.

Either chooses to run his family bakery after his parents retire or becomes a chef in some restaurant. I imagine Azul would be interested in keeping Trey close or tries to hire him for his restaurant business.

♦ Cater

Your Cay-Cay keeps being fire on Magicam! ✧⁺ /hj

Just like Ace I believe Cater tried to make the most out of his school life, so planning from the start what he exactly was going to do wasn't in his top priorities. He knew he still wanted to have time for social media, and despite some minor existential crisis about his future he was realistically listing his abilities and cons in his search for okay-ish jobs.

Eventually he set up for working on social media management or marketing: him being able to read the room + being updated with the latest trends and internet language + meme culture + his obsession liking of Magicam + knowledge to make great pics to post = Best job for him!

In spite of the time being a publicist for brands and influencers take he still updates his Magicam account. Not exactly a worldwide star but I can see him having around +500K overtime and even hitting the million there or in his twst youtube channel. Because of his job and hobby he still cross path with Vil sometimes.

About his family... Just like Riddle I see him looking forward to move in #ASAP, but Cater kept in contact with his family because their relationship still could still be fixed. Therapy may be needed to further explore and heal his family issues and roots of his depression but eventually he's better, if anything still a bit salty with his sisters (don't get me wrong everyone here should go but Cater is in the list or easier to convince) Extra good sis points if they are the ones who talk with Cay-Cay about going to therapy and agree to go with him if asked <3

🦁 Leona

For a moment I wrongly thought "This man is filthy rich, I 100% can see him not doing anything with all the money he has if he feels like it." before the realisation that contradicts his character smacked me in the face. Seeing how he denied the idea of losing without a fight in the tournament I think he'll try to exit his title as being only the second born and make a name for himself.

Given he's a respected leader in his dorm and how he can put in work his leadership skills when the moment requires it Leona would want to be involved in his kingdom management.

Leona has a tattoo that resembles Scar's, and I think that was a symbol of the royal guard, so maybe he'd become royal guard captain. Something like an ambassador or related to military or diplomatic relationships, representing the royal family and travelling for politic reasons.

Knowing Leona he'd be keep ignoring his depression until others talk him out of that procrastinating attitude and force convince him to search help, most likely his s/o or Farena's wife scolding, since it seems he'd do what they tell him even if it's grudgingly. Cheka probably goes to RSA and by then any ill feelings towards his nephew are gone, although he'll always act like he annoys him.

🍩 Ruggie

In Ruggie SSR dorm card is shown Ruggie is fluent at Animal Linguistics. With his participation at the Animal Linguistics Speech Contest I'm positive he could find a job about it, perhaps work alongside Leona as the royal family interpreter.

Regardless of which career he chooses he'll make some good cash and after receiving paychecks he'll spoil his grandma and give small treats to his neighbours by buying a lot of food and making occasional meals for everybody when he visits.

🐺 Jack

Unless he marries somebody whose homeland is different I picture him living in his hometown tending to his cactus. He has a nice house, big enough to raise some kids, and space enough to grew his plants. Man has simple needs and he is content with it.

Definitely the most likely who ends up having a spouse out of all the students, closely followed by Epel and Rook imo.

At first I was blank about his career but thanks to a user on Reddit I agree with them that Jack could be a personal coach or some sort of athletic instructor, for instance ski/snowboard teacher since he likes it. Or a professional athlete.

🐙 Azul

Azul invests in the market and hit big numbers earlier than anybody else. Technically he doesn't need to work anymore or worry about making an income but he still runs a restaurant, expanding his empire as the owner of high quality restaurants both in land and sea. Chains like Applebee's are shit under his foot in comparison lol

Still trying to keep in contact with his dear classmates who he spent so many wonderful days Definitely not because he could use having the Asim new family leader or the royal captain or a honourable judge like Riddle or the STYX leader nono-

🐬 Jade & Floyd 🦈

The ones who mop the floor with Azul's competition

They are still by Azul's side, but they continue in their family business behind the scenes. Probably meet Riddle in the courtyard. Not because they are careless to leave traces behind mind you, Floyd just felt like squeezing some annoying dude and the law is being unfunny and charging him for aggression. Jade is never caught on the things his twin is accused of, but Riddle has the feeling he's never too far from the fights.

Each time the case is closed or paid with community services. Azul pays the penalty fees and the octotrio always act oh so casually about it while getting in Riddle's nerves. Poor golfishie thought he'd see the last of them after ending NRC and now he's near a mental breakdown when he reads "Leech" in his next trial file. Said trials must be a sight to behold, which is why Jade goes whenever he's not busy, amused.

👑 Vil

The octatrio preferably lives on land for different reasons: Floyd has an expensive and varied shoe collection he can't wear underwater, Jade happily built a greenhouse for his terrariums, and Azul has houses both in land and sea to supervise his restaurants and going on vacation when he feels like it.

Despite their shared shady business is likely the twins do secondary jobs to entertain themselves: Floyd keeps starting projects and dropping them once he gets bored, from modelling to participate in monster truck events. Jade studied economics and is in charge of the financial administrations of the business, but is member of a mountain lovers forum and its most active and enthusiastic user.

Vil had already planned his career since a child. However, he continued to expand his horizons: actor, super model, movie director, guionist, activist for lgbt rights and other causes, maybe helping Crewel to make a new fashion collection for upcoming seasons...you know, he takes Barbie's motto seriously. Probably loves being a director because he can envision and lead a movie while being on screen. He's Barbie because he can be everything he decides to be except being more popular than Neige

He keeps in contact with several classmates, including Rook, Epel, occasionally Cater etc. He has an online shop that sells products made by himself, except collabs he makes with other brands like Azul's moisturiser. Don't worry Floyd is okay, they found other merman to use :)

🏹 Rook

✨ Le chasseur de tes cauchemars ✨

Leona and company keep feeling observed, he has many people terrified. If hunter isn't his job then it must be related to beauty, but because he sees beauty in everything I'm not sure. Perhaps he has the same job as whatever his family worked to get all those villas but maybe they are just rich and inherited that CMON DISNEY TELL ME IF HIS FAM HAS A SHADY BUSINESS ALREADY! ARE THEY COPS?? WTF I NEED INFO

If he doesn't follow his family footsteps he could enjoy working as a photographer, capturing the inner beauty of the world both as a naturalist photographer and a fashion one. Hunting and stalking are his hobbies.

One of those who has higher chancer to get married at some point I think, but it's a bit tricky. He sure loves many things but something about it tells me in the present time he thinks he still has so many beautiful things and people to meet that he cannot imagine committing to somebody for the rest of his life yet?? Unless that person was fine he would marvel and compliment and stalk anyone he's around...

Open to having a longtime and stable relationship but it would make more sense if he waits until later in his life to get married in my opinion, realistically speaking at least. But be could also jump straight to marriage if his love for his s/o is that big, if his s/o is Neige, Vil or someone he adores as much as them.

🍎 Epel

Another student who had his future somewhat well thought out since he was a freshman.

Not long after graduation he studies a major degree and works in his family farm, trying to improve the Harveston farmers laboral conditions by implementing innovative methods to grow apples more resistant to cold temperatures...First he has to convince the skeptic elderly that technology and science can mesh together with tradition just fine. (This idea is from what he says in the Harveston event)

As weird as it sounds I can see Epel gaining more muscle after all those years working out. I'm divided between him growing taller or being ripped but continue being the shortest of the first year gang lol

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slightly-warmer-hibiscus-tea · 11 months ago

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My Touchstarved MC / OC time

Because I've been saving it for today^-^

[Warning: long rambling, and possibly no editing]

I have come to the point where I view the main LI's as my side characters to my silly little cannon divergent lore. So everything is completely made up, and also I'm going to rewrite my MCs to fit the actual game when it comes out. so there is my disclaimer before I head off into Lala land.

I've made different MCs based on the three backstories you can choose when you enter the game.

The Alchemist (Naudedel)

Hound (Hound)

Unnamed (Noble)

Each is still cursed but each curse takes on a different form or is gained at a different time along the journey to Eridia.

Noble is the one with the original curse from the game. They corrupt the minds of those they touch. Except on rare occasions...

Hound is a by-product of Nobel's hands. Hound is (till they reach Eridia...) the only one who can touch Nobel without punishment. Though she seems to have still retained her sanity, there is one man who refuses to deny the golden veins running under her skin.

Naudedel was an experiment gone rogue. An attempt to create an artificial God gone wrong. Turning his back on his creator, but still tries to reach for a false heaven on his own.

In my little headcanon world, they are all traveling together as a found family. Hound acts as their guardian, Noble is the oldest, Naudy is the weird middle child, and then there is Cetcher, who is a stand-alone OC who was adopted into their little family.

| And here is a little family photo/reference sheet :D - I'll explain the designs later |

Also, designs aren't finalized completely!! (which is why Hound is missing the prosthetic mentioned below)

The General BackStory: part I

Hound meets Noble when they are around six and takes care of them along with the help of her then-husband Cove. The two worked as mercenaries till taking Noble in as their own. The young couple promised to watch over Noble as they travel to Erida to try and find a cure for their curse. Along the way Hound and Cove hit what they called... a rough patch. Which resulted in Cove severing Hound's leg, not before she could take his good arm. Though Hound can't remember much of their life before that fight. She does know that he is still out there, and looking for them. But a swordsman without his dominant hand isn't much concern for her so she pushes on with the child at her side.

That is when they find Naudedel. The prodigy son of a mage who lived at the top of the hill in the remains of a small standing town. The mage was an older woman, but hospitable to the young mother and her child. She was also very taken by Noble after learning about their infliction. And wanted to help them in their journey to Erida seeing she had ties there from her past. This is where Hound was given her prosthetic, fueled by alchemy and mechanics. Noble took a liking to Naudedel despite his moody disposition and the two (to Naudy's dismay) were stuck at the hip during their stay. However, things didn't stay pleasant for long. As if the air changed in the small town, dire truths flowed with it. Hound and Noble soon learned about the true nature of the boy bound to the hill. The 12th experiment, the 12th body that surprisingly hadn't been dropped in one of the many pre-made graves that ran along the hillside yet. "What a resilient boy she's found!" was the last macabre expression Hound was willing to put up with from the townsfolk before marching up that damned hill only to find a darker twist in the doorway. Naudedel was the one to free himself. The one to kill his mother and step off that hill in his own shoes. Hound just happened to walk in front of him. Or at least that's how he is allowed to tell the story.

The now trio continue their journey, arriving in one broken small town to the next. Around the time the young ones are teenagers and Hound is theoretically pushing late 30s yet every familiar face they meet on the road swears she hasn't aged a wink, They start a town riot...

...

However, that's a story for another time. Anyways, the kids adopted Cetcher as their new baby sister. Cetcher worked as an assistant for an apothecary in town. Though assistant is more of a stretch, servant or pet would have been more fitting. The man running the shop treated the child less than an errand boy and refused to elaborate on where he got her. So Naudedel made it his mission to run off with the kid with the ever-so-graceful help of Noble. After convincing Hound to take her in, the glossy-eyed baby joined their one-wagon caravan. With surprisingly great help from Naudedel, Hound taught Cetcher how to read and write, which might have been the start of her greatest joys, at least in the moment.

But they were on their way. And spent another 5 years on the road before getting close to the city. But that was where they would part ways for a year. Naudedel had found a lead to possibly undoing Noble's curse. But it would be out of their way and a possible goose chase. And Due to an unfortunate run-in with a certain swordsman wielding his signature longsword in his non-dominant hand. They needed to get on the move fast. The plan was for Naudedel and Cetcher to go off the path and for Hound to watch over Noble and make it into Eridia safely. This was the plan, but of course, things would never go accordingly. Here we are in the current day, Noble alone in Eridia left in Leander's care, Hound presumed dead, Cetcher lost in the Fogfall, and Naudedel making contracts with deities he is too proud to admit are over his head.

But yes, my cornerstones of my silly found family.

#oc rambles #touchstarved oc #oc #oc: noble #oc: hound #oc: naudedel #oc: cetcher

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selnyam · 6 months ago

Note

— “You fell asleep in my arms. It was kind of adorable.” For the touch starved prompt :3

A morning after shot I've been wanting to make from my story "You Find A Way" story below, contains Shadowbringers spoilers. Story takes place shortly after Holminster Switch

It was still bright outside the window of her room. Flidais lay on the bed, sleep eluding her. Her mind kept going back to the day prior. Killing the Lightwarden at Holminster Switch and having all that light flow into her body. The Exarch had been so sure the effects wouldn’t kill her, and something about him seemed so familiar it had caused her to trust him. Now she lay, trying to adjust to the way the Light felt, her throat scars itching in a way no amount of scratching would help. The itch almost seemed inside her skin. She eventually gave up and walked to the table, needing some water to refresh her dry throat.

The First was such a strange place, so much light. Her Void touched body, one that had spent so much time lost to Darkness felt out of place, like at any moment she could just break apart and dissolve away. There was also that nagging sensation she knew the Exarch, that he knew far too much about her than she should be comfortable with. Her Floppy ears twitched, and she turned to the door just in time to hear a soft knock. Someone was there, someone who by the sound of their sniffing and breathing had been crying. Her keen Viera hearing picked up smaller feet, their knock had been lower on the door. One of the twins maybe?

The tall woman threw on a robe and tied it before moving to the chamber entrance. She creaked open the door and peered out into the bright hallway. Alisaie stood there, a long nightshirt reaching below her knees exposing bare feet. The young girl looked up at her friend, an almost adoptive mother to her and her twin. Her eyes were about as red as her Red Mage soul crystal could suggest. Her soft voice when she spoke was almost imperceptible and Flidais was grateful to her excellent hearing.

‘I’m sorry. I know it’s late and you might be sleeping and I didn't want to wake you up but… I… I’m sorry but. I don’t. I can’t…” Flidias ushered the young girl, a teenager but still so much younger than her own century and more of life, into the room. Quickly kneeling, she put an arm around her.

‘Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay, I’m here.” Alisaie; sweet, confident, tough Alisaie looked into her eyes and tears formed again. What she said next nearly broke the older Black Mages heart and she hugged her daughter tight.

“How do you continue on after losing the love of your life?” Memories filled Flidias’s mind.

K’shai.

Fighting together, laughing, falling asleep in each other's arms talking about a little cabin in the forest.

Running through the bloodstained, corpse filled Waking Sands, heart in her throat.

A still form crumpled against a wall.

The anger and loss.

The brutal revenge quest that left her empty and drained.

The ache that still hadn’t gone away.

She held Alisaie as the young woman cried, heaving sobs of loss and pain. The Elezen girl whimpering “Tesleen! Tesleen, I’m so sorry!” What do you say? What can you tell someone so young, someone experiencing a loss so immense and raw? Flidais stood and scooped the young Elezen into her arms, feeling her cling tightly, her slender arms wrapping around her neck. Carefully she carried her bundle to the bed, sitting and holding the girl tight.

“I’m sorry dear, I don’t know. Loss is never easy and yours is especially hard. I do know that Tesleen cared for you as you cared for her. I didn’t handle my loss well, as I’m sure the stories you’ve heard. All I can offer is that we find a way. We find something to keep going, to honour her memory. We keep her in our hearts and live a life that would make her proud. I’ll be right here beside you each step of the way, for as long as you’ll have me.” The Viera bent and placed a soft kiss on her forehead, Alisaie tightening her grip as her sobs lessened.

“Can I stay by you tonight? Sleeping alone is…” she trailed off and swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the lump in her throat. Flidais nodded and gestured to the large bed they sat upon,

“There’s plenty of room, if you want I can cast Sleep to help you rest” Alisaie shook her head. She shifted off the older woman’s lap and lay down

“I just don’t want to be alone. Thank you. For everything.” exhaustion was clearing taking over the girl and Flidais carefully tucked her in before laying beside her in the large bed. The poor girl was far too young to have to deal with such a loss, and hopefully their work here in the First could prevent so many more losses. Her heart swelled in her chest though, as sleep finally seemed to overtake the girl, her last words before drifting off so quiet Flidais almost missed them

“I love you Mom.”

#flidais oakclamber #ffxiv #ffxiv viera #ffxiv gpose #alisaie leveilleur #shadowbringers spoilers #loss of a loved one

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tabitha42 · 7 months ago

Text

The Wizard's Apprentice - Chapter 3

Saffron is just a lowly apprentice with barely a successful firebolt to her name. So what chance does she have with the arch mage she's slowly falling in love with?

Gale x Tav, slow burn, eventual smut

Chapter 1 Previous chapter Next chapter

Morning came all too quickly. Her body still ached from the day before, made worse now by sleeping on little more than the ground. She could hear movement outside - seems the others were already awake, or some of them at least. The smell of food wafted in and was enough to finally pull her out of bed.

Outside the others were preparing for the day - sharpening weapons, readying armour, inspecting arrows. Gale sat at the campfire, cooking once more. “Saff!” he called once he saw she was up, beckoning her over. “I’ve saved some for you.” She wandered over and sat down next to him. He handed her a plate with some bread and cooked meat. Considering it was rations looted off of dead bodies cooked over a campfire, it looked pretty damn good. She thanked him and eagerly began eating. “We’ll be heading out with the others today to help search for the tieflings. Lae’zel thinks she knows what direction to go in,” he explained, filling her in on the discussions that had happened before she’d woken up.

“Ah… ok,” she said, a little bit nervous. “What about the camp? Shouldn’t someone stay to guard it?” “Shadowheart will stay here.” That took her by surprise. Even though Shadowheart had been pretty quiet last night, one thing Saff had gotten from her was that she was very determined to do whatever needed to be done to free herself of this parasite, and staying in camp for the day didn’t seem to fit in with that.

“Really?” she asked, glancing over at Shadowheart, who was eating her breakfast in front of her tent. “Yep,” he said, before lowering his voice and leaning in slightly. “Between you and me, I get the impression she wants to be in Lae’zel’s company for as little time as possible.” “Ah…” she murmured. Now that she thought about it, that matched up with how they’d been acting around each other last night. The two of them clearly weren’t exactly friends. “What about our stuff? Can we trust her with it all?” Gale shrugged slightly. “We don’t have much choice, unless you want to carry that backpack around with you all day.”

She certainly didn’t relish that thought.

“Suppose you’re right…” she muttered. Still, she wondered if this was really the best idea. Shadowheart looked like a much more capable fighter than Saff herself was…

Soon breakfast was done and the four of them were ready to go. “Good luck,” Shadowheart said with a wave as they were about to leave. “Do try not to get yourselves killed.”

“Same to you, darling,” Astarion replied. “It can be awfully dangerous in these woods all on your own.” “I can handle myself, don’t you worry.” With that, they were off. Lae’zel took the lead while the rest of them followed. “You sure you’re ok with this, Lae’zel?” Astarion asked after a while. “Two wizards and a rogue… we won’t exactly be joining you on the front lines.” Despite the apparent concern in his words, the playful nature with which he said them seemed to lack any real concern at all.

“I am perfectly content with that. Less people to get in my way,” she said confidently. Everything she said seemed to be confident, like she had not a shred of self-doubt. Given the stories she’d told them of Githyanki culture, Saff supposed anyone with any self-doubt wouldn’t have survived their training.

“Are you saying our dear Shadowheart got in your way?” Astarion asked, with the tone of a teenager wanting to start drama. “Shadowheart’s been getting in my way since we met her. I will fight better without her.”

Astarion glanced at Saff and Gale, now with the look of a teenager excited about the drama they’d started.

“Well if you can fight even better today we have nothing to fear.”

At this point Saff wasn’t sure if he was actually being sarcastic with everything he said or if that was just how he spoke.

The walk was long, interspersed with the occasional conversation. Astarion seemed quite chatty now, as long as the subject wasn’t himself. During the conversation she decided to tell them all to call her Saff, though mostly because it would be odd to have Gale call her one thing and the others call her another. But she hoped once she got to know the others more she’d feel as comfortable round them as she did right now with Gale.

It was early afternoon when they heard the shouting. Running to catch up with it they discovered what they’d been looking for - a large door, disguised with ivy, manned by tieflings atop the wall. Had it not been for the group of adventures outside the door shouting to be let in, they’d probably not have noticed it.

Then came the goblins. Hollering war cries, the group descended on them and the battle began. Lae’zel wasted no time charging in, and before Saff even knew what was going on, Astarion disappeared into the shadows. She might have thought he’d fled had she not seen an arrow fly out from his hiding place right into the skull of a goblin, before he quickly darted to another hiding spot. Next Gale ran forward and effortlessly threw a firebolt at one of the worgs as it went to attack a tiefling. His hand gestures were so quick she barely saw them. She’d never seen someone cast a spell with such ease… but she soon realised she’d been staring a bit too long as she suddenly noticed a goblin running towards her, taking advantage of her lapse in concentration. In a panic she quickly summoned a firebolt and threw it at the goblin, but her aim was off, and even if it had hit it lacked the power to kill, and the goblin easily dodged to the side. She tried to summon another, but her shaking hands couldn’t do the movements, and before she knew it the goblin was on top of her…

The goblin was slammed aside by a bolt of fire, leaving a huge clump of burnt flesh sloughing off the side of the corpse. She looked in the direction it came from to see Gale looking back at her, taking a moment to be sure she was ok, before quickly turning back to the battle, another spell in hand.

She knew in that moment she had to be better than this, and for now adrenaline drowned out the fear and she found herself running to Gale’s side to join the fight. It was mostly a blur, throwing firebolts and dodging arrows as the sounds of battle cries and dying screams echoed in her ears.

Then just as suddenly as it started, it was over. But she didn’t hear the celebrations of the survivors. She could still hear only the dying, the screaming. The cracking of bones and skulls, the thud of bodies hitting the ground, the stench of burning flesh. She heard voices, but the words were lost. Her hands shook, her heart raced, her ears rang, and all she could do was stare at the massacre in front of her…

Suddenly she was being pulled away. She didn’t resist - she couldn’t even register what was happening enough to consider resisting it. A familiar figure by her side, one arm around her shoulders, the other taking her hand, leading her away from it all. Then she was sat on a stone next to him in the quiet serenity of the forest.

“Saff? Saff, look at me.” His words gradually made their way through her muddled mind and his face came into focus in front of her, a look of deep concern in his eyes.

“Saff, can you hear me? It’s ok…”

She felt him squeeze her hand, and finally the visions of the battle left and she found herself back in the real world. With a deep gasp, as if finally being released from an iron-like grip, she closed her eyes and shook her head.

“Gods… oh, gods…” she whispered, her voice shaking as much as her hands. “Hey, it’s alright,” he said softly, gently rubbing her back. “It’s over now.”

After a long moment she finally opened her eyes again, and when she did they were full of tears.

“I… I… oh, fuck, what am I doing here…” she whispered in a panic. “I shouldn’t have come… I should have told you I can’t do this… you should have taken Shadowheart, not me…”

“Saff-” “I’ve put you all in danger, I’m just going to slow you all down, I can’t fight like you all ca-” “Saff!”

She went quiet, looking at him in surprise.

“I know this is difficult. Trust me, I do. The first time I ever found myself truly fighting for my life, I was terrified. But I also know that it gets easier. Don’t give in to panic and fear, trust and believe in yourself. You can do this,” he said honestly, squeezing her hand as he spoke.

She looked down, letting his words sink in. Gradually the panic faded, leaving just the warmth his voice gave her. Finally she wiped her eyes and nodded. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice still shaking slightly. He smiled, giving her the time she needed. Eventually she took a deep breath and steadied herself. “Lae’zel and Astarion weren’t impressed by this, I’m guessing…” she murmured, dreading the judgemental stares she’d get next time she saw them. “I told them we would stay behind and loot the bodies. I’m not sure how much they realised what was actually happening,” he explained. “Oh,” she said in surprise. “Well… thanks for covering for me,” she said, realising what he’d done for her. “But still… I shouldn’t have let it get to this. I should have told you from the beginning. Someone who can’t fight doesn’t exactly make for a good travelling companion…” “Oh I don’t know about that. I’d still rather travel with you than with any of them.”

Again, she looked at him in surprise. “Really? But… they can all fight. You’d be so much safer with them.” “Perhaps, but a good travelling companion can do more than just fight. Most of travelling is, well, travelling, not fighting. It’s long and boring, and you make far better conversation than they do.”

She had to look away to hide the blush on her cheeks. Though she wondered if he saw anyway, given the way he chuckled.

“Still… I won’t be able to talk us out of a fight, if it comes to it…” She said quietly, feeling doubtful again.

“Then how about some lessons?” he offered. She looked back at him in curiosity. “You clearly have a fairly good grasp of the Weave, but you’ve never really studied combat magic, correct?” She nodded. “Then I shall teach you. And with as great a wizard as me as your teacher, you’ll be a powerful battlemage in no time.”

She was sure whenever he said something a bit full of himself like that it was intended to command respect, though all it ever seemed to do was make her laugh. Luckily, that was exactly what she needed right now.

“Alright, I’ll hold you to that. If I’m not throwing fireballs within a tenday I’ll blame you.”

“Deal,” he said with a smile, holding his hand out. She gladly shook it, feeling a bit more confident about this now. “The lessons start tonight, after dinner.” “I’ll be there,” she promised him, quite looking forward to it. “I suppose for now we’d better get back to the others before they realise something’s up.” “A good plan,” he agreed, standing up. She stood too and together they returned to the site of the battle.

By now several tieflings had come out and started looting the bodies for weapons and supplies. Saff tried to push the images out of her head as they walked past them and through the gate into the grove.

Once inside they met Zevlor, shaking his head over the unconscious adventurer he’d apparently knocked out in a moment of rage, who pointed them further into the grove where the others had gone. They found them talking to one of them men from the fight earlier, who had agreed to join their group in search of a cure. After a tadpole-induced vision of Avernus and quick explanation as to the one-horned devil they saw he introduced himself properly, and Saff's face immediately lit up. “You’re the Blade of Frontiers??” she gasped in excitement. A smile spread across his face, as if he’d been hoping someone would recognise him. “The very same. You’ve heard of me, then?” “Of course! I’ve heard all the stories! You’re fighting evil in the Hells now??”

“Indeed I am. Wherever evil lurks, I will be there to flush it out,” he said proudly. Lae’zel rolled her eyes, Astarion sighed, and Gale looked… just a bit uncomfortable with how much Saff was suddenly gushing over their newest companion. Not that Saff noticed any of this.

“We need to focus on the tadpoles,” Lae’zel reminded them. “Zorru. Where is he?”

“Ah, he’s over there, by the hut,” Wyll said, pointing to a tiefling further down the grove. “Let’s move,” she ordered, starting to head in that direction. “Quite the merry little party now, aren’t we?” Astarion said, referencing how many people they now had. Lae’zel paused. “You’re right. Five is too many. Once we leave here, we will attract too much attention.” “Well, I for one think we should explore all avenues,” Astarion continued. “How about you and I talk to this Zorru while they go talk to that druid healer the trader mentioned?” Lae’zel looked at the others, considering this suggestion.

“A pointless exercise, purification is the only way to cure ourselves. But if seeing for yourself that no others can cure us is the only way you will accept this, then very well. You three seek this healer in the grove - this Nettie. We will speak to Zorru. Return here when you are done.”

With that she turned off and headed towards Zorru. Astarion gave the three of them a look, then went off with her. Gale couldn’t help but wonder if Astarion had some ulterior motive to splitting them up like this… he’d probably never have guessed his motive was just to see what drama would come out of it after seeing how uncomfortable Gale looked just now.

“This way, then,” Wyll announced, leading them towards the druids.

#gale #bg3 gale #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale x tav

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literallyrousseau · 7 months ago

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(would take wayy too long to comment thread this, so;)

The entire Rot & Ruin series by Jonathan Maberry: a post apocalyptic zombie series that follows a teenage boy and his buds as they learn the horrid reality of the world they live in (horror/sci-fi)

The Simon Snow trilogy by Rainbow Rowell; orphaned kid goes to magic school bc he's supposedly a chosen one, aka gay mages & vamp/human subplot romance, enemies to lovers (urban fantasy)

The Boneless Mercies by April G. Tucholke; an unfinished series abt a group of female mercenaries in the death trade who travel to kill whoever they are assigned, gone off path to fight a beast in hopes they'll earn enough that they won't have to be mercies anymore. (Fantasy/action)

Midnight Strikes by Zeba Shahnaz; girl stuck in a time loop, whole lotta violence and decent world building, barely there subplot romance (fantasy)

Hell Followed With Us by Andrew J. White; another post apocalyptic, but this time with religious imagery, whole bunch of body horror and a subplot gay romance, trans main character (horror/fantasy)

How to Bite Your Neighbor & Win a Wager by D.N Bryn; a deal between a dude desperately trying to figure out what the hell happened to his mother and a vampire who's starving. Gayness and angst ensue aka the inherent homoeroticism of letting ur vamp bro feed off you (fantasy)

Ethan & Jag Destroy the World by Maz Maddox; monsterfucking w a splash of saving the world that you broke by accidentally binding a demon to u bc you wanted a fake bf to piss off your ex. Gay. So gay. (Fantasy)

Angels Before Man by Rafael Nicolás; a retelling of Lucifer's fall from heaven but make it angsty gay shit. Oh, and a terrifying amount of gore and violence at the end. It actually made me super uneasy, something not many things I've read have done. (Dark fantasy)

Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon; if you really like world building, high fantasy. DRAGONS so many dif pov's and lovable characters. Takes a bit to get into it, then it's addicting (high fantasy)

Boyfriend Material by Alexis Hall; fake dating, good character development, dudes bein gay . Pretty sure there's a second one? Haven't read it yet tho (romance)

These are just a few of my favs, I've got a bunch in my mini library.

I've prolly got more if you're lookin for something different

MY FRIEND I DON’T EVEN KNOW HOW TO REACT

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS MATE

the synopsis and everything⁉️🔥 dude this convinced me to buy a kindle just to read foreign books without paying for the [very expensive] freightage

Aside from the ones with heavy gore and body horror [my bad bro, weak-ass stomach😔], I gotta read them all

Thank you for the recommendations man🫶🏻🫶🏻 fr thank you🫂

And you got a whole mini library⁉️⁉️ Man thats so cool, genuinely

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wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 2 years ago

Note

Firstly, thank you for keeping my Sterek obsession fed and watered all this time- you are the best!

Secondly, I have searched tags and can’t quite find what I’m looking for:

I am obsessed with fics where Stiles is developing magic ability but finds out he gets a huge power boost from Derek (maybe tied to Hale territory and the like) - that ultimately makes them an unstoppable force. Derek getting hurt then healed by Stiles always a plus. Do you know of any in this particular vein?

You are so welcome! And thanks to @kevaaronday because she did all the work for this list.

light a spark by raisesomehale (8/15 | 30,778 | Teen | Sterek) “It’s not” - Derek cuts off as quickly as he starts, teeth gritting with frustration - “It’s not like the others it’s… There’s a reason I came to your house last.”

Stiles’ eyebrows raise. This is hands down the weirdest Derek has ever acted around him, and it’s making him curious.

“And that reason being…?” He rolls the sleeves of his flannel up to his elbows and leans against his desk to start untying his shoes.

“I need” - Derek grits through clenched teeth - “Your help.”

Stiles just blinks at him, shoes in his hands. “That was excruciating to witness, just so you know.”

Teen Witch by Mr_Bilinski (9/? | 29,956 | Mature | Sterek) After the Nogitsune possession, a bit of the darkness remains, unseen by the Pack. Due to his connection to the Nemeton and having been possessed, Stiles finds himself more on the "super" end of the natural/supernatural spectrum. With power unseen by any before, who can hold Stiles in check? Will the darkness and the seemingly unlimited potential of what his powers could do corrupt Stiles or will he heed the infamous words of Uncle Ben?

Canon compliant up through the end of season 4. Some elements from later seasons will be incorporated with some twists.

The Spark of a Wolf by WolfMadeFromAsh (9/9 | 24,540 | Teen | Sterek) Stiles is a Spark.

WTF does that even mean? Other than the fact that he needs an anchor to maintain control and that anchor is a shapeshifter, he has no idea. It seems that everyone around him is figuring things out before him and no one is thinking about cluing him in. His best friends act as if he's not right in front of them and Derek Hale is the most reliable person in his life right now.

What the hell?

Of Mischief and Trickery by GrimReaperlover11 (14/? | 24,258 | Teen | Sterek) A fight with a witch ends in a big secret regarding Stiels' parentage being brought into the light.

a leak of light in a blue town like this by sikenlore (1/1 | 21,153 | Mature | Sterek) stiles spent the summer of his freshman year of college practically living at derek and cora’s cozy, three bedroom a-frame. he carved a space for himself in their house, in their lives.

(snippets of moments in the lives of the beacon hills pack, or more specifically, in the lives of stiles and derek, the pack emissary and the alpha.)

Born Out of Magic by sparkandwolf (4/4 | 20,850 | Teen | Sterek) “I’ve—we’ve—kept this town safe ever since we were teenagers without the help of—” Stiles couldn’t bring himself to say his name, not yet.

“It was only a matter of time, you know?” Scott said, his voice clearly sympathetic.

“Why are you all just standing around?” The voice was like ice through Stiles’ spine. As much as he wanted to run or to lash out at the person he thought he disliked most in the world, he froze in place like a coward.

Even as the most powerful mage on his side of the country, he was still powerless against Derek Hale.

Or, Stiles gains magical abilities he never knew he had while battling the Darach all while slowly falling in love with the person he least expected, Derek Hale. After the pack defeats her, Derek leaves Beacon Hills—and Stiles—behind. A few years later, there's a new big bad the pack is struggling to defeat. The only thing their alpha can think to do is call on the one person who can truly bind Stiles' powers and complete their pack.

Derek saunters back into Stiles' life as if he never left and the past seems to surge to the forefront of Stiles' mind.

Mage: Gajos by DaoOfGay (2/? | 12.472 | Explicit | Sterek) "These are the Gajos." The book whispered in delight, his voice broke in a near maniacal villain laughter before it awkwardly coughed. "Many Gajos placed their knowledge in me, in hopes of making the future generations as powerful as they were- I have the knowledge of every single Gajos that has ever lived... Including you, Mieczslaw Genim Stilinski, or should i say- Vklay Klein Gajos."

"Wait, what?"

X-x-X

A.k.a: Stiles finds out he's from a powerful Magic family and royalty as well.

It's a little rushed.

Also cringe, but cringe culture's dead- Embrace second hand embarrassment

5 times that Stiles saved Derek and the pack, an one time they saved his life by Sivan325 (1/1 | 5,080 | Teen | Sterek) Stiles and Derek were a co-alpha to the Hale pack, and Stiles was over the moon. He enjoyed his role and was delighted that his spark gave him the power and being the alpha.

Also written for Teen Wolf Bingo - Creature AU

Heart Spark by DaoOfGay (1/? | 4,183 | Explicit | Sterek) "He's more than a simple spark, Derek-" Peter smiled softly as he held the sleeping Stiles on his arms, the entire pack either asleep or almost asleep around them: "-He's a Divine Spark of Hestia, a spark directly from the flames of the Heart, he was born to be protective, motherly, born to be a healer and to have a large family... And, of course, with the ability of providing the means of having said family."

A little shocked by his Mate's divine powers, Derek whispered a little confused: "...what?"

"Pregnant, Derek." Peter ignored how half of the entire pack just froze and stared at Stiles with shock: "He can get pregnant- In fact, he already is."

Oh. That's why everybody has been so overprotective of him recently.

"Oh."

X-x-X

Or; The one where Stiles gets a pack and Derek gets the love and happiness he deserves.

#teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #magic!stiles #anon

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a-drama-addict · 16 days ago

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1, 3, 5, 9, 10, 12, 13, 18, 19, 20, 22, 25, 31, 36, 44, 46, 49 SABRI BLAST!! SABRI ATTACK!!

SABRI BLAST! SABRI ATTACK! [ask game]

1. How old is Rook?

Sabri is 28!

3. What was Rook’s life before their faction?

didn't have one SHOUTOUT CRYPT BABY! no i guess she's always just... been in the Mourn Watch. She was raised with them and doesn't remember anything prior to it.

5. What was life like for Rook before joining the Veilguard?

Pretty... tame? She spent a lot of her time just. Researching. She definitely cleansed the occasional haunting and restless undead, which is WHY she became a warrior. A lot of studying and reading mostly. She spent a lot of time researching necromancy in theory, even though she could never actually perform the magic herself. Also she likes studying insects. SHE GOT THAT WHIMSY IN HER !!!!

9. What is Rook like on the battlefield?

She's strong and pretty good at anticipating where and when an enemy would strike. She's spent a lot of time observing how different armies, factions, types of people fight. Of course that can't give you everything, but she's pretty good at thinking ahead like cornering an enemy to the edge of a cliff/rooftop/etc and kicking them off. SHE WANTS TO PLAN EVERYTHING OUT SO BAD

10. Does Rook know their history? Do they know of the HoF, Hawke, the Inquisitor?

SABRI HEARTS THE HERO OF FERELDEN EMIRA TABRIS!!!!!! no but seriously she knows of them. She thinks Chloe also rocks because like "Woagh a blood mage became the champion of kirkwall? That's cool I wonder if the public knew" then asks varric and varric lies bc he's protecting hawke 5ever.

She knows of the Inquisitor too but. Less. Mostly heard about his alliance with Cassandra because OooOoOoh did you know a PENTAGHAST is helping the inquisition? Crazy

12. Does Rook have any family? Do they keep in touch?

Not that Sabri knows of. No family ties by blood she's ever met

13. Did Rook bring any trinkets/sentimental items to The Lighthouse?

She has an emblem in the shape of a beetle. Beetles are prized in Nevarra and allegedly brings good luck. She always keeps it on her

18. Their fondest childhood memory:

When Sabri was around 7 or 8 years old she tried talking with wisps for the first time. She was too shy at first, having been told that dwarves can't do magic so it might be more difficult to summon or communicate with them. One night she was feeling very brave and asked one of her mage friends to help her find and connect with wisps.

After a long trek to find them in a room, Sabri sat down on the floor and started talking to them. She spent that whole night talking the (metaphorical) ears of those wisps who very eagerly flew about around her while she rambled.

19. What is Rook’s love language? What love languages do they respond best to?

I'd say quality time and physical touch definitely. she's a cuddle bug that wants to spend time with those she loves damn it! in terms of reacting i would also words of affirmation. she goes real well on that

20. What’s it like to see them smile? Their laugh?

Sabri's smile is very warm, always genuine. If she doesn't have a reason to smile she doesn't, every time she smiles or laughs she gets a crinkle in her nose. Her laugh is loud and shameless, she isn't afraid to let you know she is happy, and it's definitely infectious.

22. Most embarrassing memory as a teenager:

Oh man trying to invent some kind of mechanical entrapment that would give dwarves the ability to mimic necromancy when she was 17. She spent months, almost a full year, trying to build a skeletal set of armour that would have necrotic magic infused in the palms of it's hands so it would deal necrotic damage, and hopefully be able to raise and speak with the dead because of the magic.

Loooong story short, after the help of a professor to mimic the spellcasting, the necrotic powers in the palms overloaded and exploded. Her hands hurt like hell for weeks and she was too embarrassed to walk out of her quarters for two weeks straight.

25. How does Rook like to spend their free time?

Reading! Researching! She loves learning things and reading stories!!! SHE WANTS IN ON THE VEILGUARD BOOK CLUB NEOW!!!!!!

31. What specialization does Rook pursue? What called them to it?

Reaper! Because MOURN WATCH FOREVER AND ALWAYS!!!!! RAGHHH. No but seriously she was kind of already training for this as an apprentice in the necropolis anyway, it just seemed... right.

36. What would Rook say are their flaws?

Sabri believes she is too soft. Not as willing to fight or kill as she should be. She would also feel herself too... dwarf-y. She loves being a dwarf, the traditions and cultures from Orzammar, definitely believes in the Stone. But she feels so inadequate to be part of the Mourn Watch. Even the non-mages at least can dream, she can't even do that. No connection to the Fade. What good is a Mourn Watcher with no connection to the Fade?

44. What is Rook really good at?

Sketching! It's mostly mechanical sketches, studies, that she usually does. She keeps a journal where sketches everything that catches her eye, and if she's lucky she can take it with her and study it up close.

46. What does it take to earn Rook’s trust?

Helping people, honouring the deceased in ways appropriate to the deceased person (respecting different costumes from different cultures in that front), being nice to insects and animals.

49. What will always make them laugh?

Assan. Also dad jokes and puns (That whole segment with the giant stone hand.)

#THANK YOU FOR THE SABRI BLAST I MISS HER!!!!!!!!!!!!#<- finished the game 13 hours ago #SABRI IS MY SILLY BILLY AND I LOVE HER #im just so augh #aughoughhhhh #roscoe rambles #oc: sabri ingellvar

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