#leave your son out of it leave cathilda out of it leave gilear out of it SHALL I GO ON

[scalpho]

need gillariel breakup like a fish needs water not just for my sake fabian's sake and the sake of the world as a whole but for THEIR sakes too. not only is hallariel far too good-looking for gilear but also. i want to like gilear. he's my brother in yogurt. i want to chuckle at his pathetic loser antics. appreciate his GoodFather moments. but that's real hard to do knowing he looked at a woman who threatens to kill her son on the regular #AndMeansIt! and was like yeah i'll propose. yes she's hot but so is every other mother brennan lee mulligan's ever cooked up. grow a backbone you wet paper towel

[etanunu]

I’m sick and anxious as hell so in order to bring myself some hope and joy, I’m making some Fantasy High AU headcanons cause a girl’s too busy to finish a fic atm.

Here’s the first. Fantasy High Western. Like y’all just think of it. First of all I’d die for a D20 western but also the ✨aesthetic✨

Fig and Gorgug work at the local saloon. Normally, Fig works as a waitress and Gorgug tends the bar.

The saloon is called the Pit and is owned by, you guessed it, Gilear. Why? Because I think it’s hilarious and I also love the idea that Gorthalax is normally a bounty hunter/master of disguise who spends most of his time traveling. He figured after cucking Gilear he owed the guy, so he left him in charge of the Pit. Also, it was definitely all Fig’s idea.

Fig and the Cig Figs are normally the main entertainers at the Pit and they fucking rock hard. By which I mean Gorgug still plays the drums but sometimes he hunches over a tiny standing piano while Fig sings music made specifically written to roast the patrons of the Pit.

Kristen Applebees is still a follower of Helio at the beginning, still all about her god, but this time it isn’t meeting god that changes her it’s plain and simple the cult sucks and she witnesses their crimes first hand. Meeting the rest of the Bad Kids, getting close to people outside of her religion, and falling for Tracker are all things that slowly help her overcome years of brainwashing.

She meets Fig and Adaine at the Pit when she goes there to hang out and expand her worldview. She tricked Daybreak (the cult leader in this narrative) by saying she was there to recruit. Instead she has fun with Fig, who is the opposite of everyone she’s ever known, and Adaine, who’s anxieties open up some vulnerabilities in her. Also, I just want more moments with the three girls cause like it’s cute y’all.

Speaking of Adaine...so here’s the thing. It’s pretty simple, cut and dry stuff, she’s the daughter of wealthy diplomats who have been sent to Solace from Fallinel. Basically, things stay mostly the same except instead of being a wizard Adaine is a straight up witch. I’m talking covens, I’m talking moonlit potion making, I’m talking the Abernants have their status cause of magic.

Adaine meets witches from new covens throughout the story; namely Ayda and Tracker. But before she meets them she meets Fig, she meets Gorgug, she meets Kristen, and then she meets--dun, dun, dunnn!

Riz Gukgak, private investigator, son of Sklonda Gukgak, Marshal at Law. Sure, most of his cases have been about lost pets, and sure, technically his mom doesn’t approve, but he’s good. Like really good. He broke the case on an opioid ring run by Johnny Spells while solving the mystery behind Zayne Darkshadow’s missing rat.

Recently, his friend Penny and her family got on a wagon to move and settle outside the Nightmare King’s Forest but the wagon never made it far past the borders of Spyre. The wagon was found tipped over, all of her family was killed, but Penny’s body was nowhere to be found. Riz thinks she’s been kidnapped for some nefarious plot but everyone believes the coyotes just ate her body before anyone found them

Enter Fabian Aramais Seacaster. Do y’all know about traveling wild west shows? Think Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show. These were not super ethical, but they were traveling shows where a lot of the entertainment ranged from freak shows to storytelling to shooting demonstrations. Normally, these began because some writer would take a person’s heroic tales on the west and amp up what actually happened. Fabian Seacaster, son of the infamous outlaw and desperado Bill Seacaster, is riding across Solace in his three-man show (the other men are Ragh and Cathilda, who his mother sent with him to take care of him) spreading his legend  and showing off his amazing sword fighting. He’s most famous for his father’s legacy but following that he’s famous (or trying to be) for slicing a bullet in half and for beating anybody armed with a gun with only his blade alone. And Ragh is just a beast, does like a whole strongman routine.

I imagine the story starts with Fig, Adaine, Kristen, and Gorgug meeting at the Pit. Riz comes in for a drink, but mostly for a tip. He wants to know if Fig has been able to get in contact with Gorthalax because he has a lot of criminal contacts and Riz’s only clue is a matchbook he found from the Nine Hells Theater, a famous den of sin where a lot of outlaws and criminals hang. She asks him if it’s time sensitive cause Gorthalax has been deep undercover. Riz is bummed out, he needs a new lead. Then they hear a racket outside, Fabian Aramais Seacaster’s Wild West Show.

Riz realizes Fabian’s dad might be able to get him into the Nine Hells Theater and immediately sets out to befriend him. By which I mean they duel. If Riz wins Fabian will help, if Fabian wins then Riz will leave him and Ragh alone so they can do their show.

Basically the Harvest Men are involved somehow, got some classic found family stuff, shoot outs, and nonstop daring do. Also kisses, lots of kisses, cause your girl is a shipper and can’t help it.

I have some other thoughts, especially regarding shipping and shipping moments but that’s all I’ve got right now.

[annablosssom]

dream a little dream

He's alone.

He'd lost sight of Gorgug and Fabian, and now he's alone.

((a look into what Ragh's experience in the Forest of the Nightmare King might've been))

(((read on AO3)))

"Fabian!" He yells, cupping his hands around his mouth. "Gorgug!"

He waits, listens, but when no reply comes save for the faint rustling of leaves, he calls out again.

He wanders on for a few minutes more, hackles rising the longer he stays in the forest. He starts calling out for the rest of the Bad Kids.

“Adaine! Fig! The Ball!”

Five minutes more, and his voice has turned hoarse with shouting, but he continues nonetheless.

“Sandra Lynn! Tracker! Kristen!”

Five minutes more, and doubt starts to creep into his mind. Doubt that they’ve forgotten him. Doubt that they’ve left him. He isn’t sure which one is worse.

"Ayda! Fabian! Gorgu--"

"Ragh, dude," a familiar voice drones somewhere behind him, “chill out for a sec, man. You’ve been shouting for a while.”

He draws his glaive and turns in one smooth motion, baring his teeth, muscles tense. “Whoever you are, you better be prepared to have your ass kicked!”

“Hey, hey, I said chill, dude. It’s just me.”

From out of the foliage, Dayne Blayde steps out, hands up. He walks towards Ragh, wearing his letterman jacket. He grins in that crooked way Ragh found attractive a lifetime ago, before Jawbone.

Before the Bad Kids.

Before the black eye.

“Stay back,” he warns, brandishing his glaive, “I beat you during prom. I beat you in hell. And I’m gonna beat you here in this forest if you try anything.”

“Ragh, my man,” Dayne scoffs, tilting his head as he leans back against a tree, “ you  didn’t beat me. The  Bad Kids  beat me. There’s a difference.”

Ragh growls, that same doubt coming back twofold, “Shut up!”

“Dude, you’re only mad because you know I’m right. I mean, look at you,” he nods at him. “Sandra Lynn’s a cool ranger, Cathilda’s a badass maid, Tracker’s magic keeps everyone safe at night-- I mean, they even talk to  Gilear more than they talk to you. So, let's face it," he shrugs, "you’re worthless to them, dude.”

His knuckles whiten around his weapon. “If you don’t shut the fuck up, I’m gonna kill you!”

"Dayne laughs, saying, “You’re not a Bad Kid, Ragh. You never were.”

Ragh charges at him, blood pumping as he falls into a rage.

The glaive sinks into nothing tree bark as Dayne flickers out of sight.

“Shouldn’t have done that, man,” he says, reappearing behind him with raised fists.

Raghs growls, yanking on his glaive but then the tendrils of vines wrap around the weapon from where it remains embedded in the tree. Danger sense kicks in, and he lets go just in time to jump back from the thorny vines that whip towards him.

He turns, weaponless, and takes a direct hit to his sternum as Dayne lunges forward and socks his chest. He feels something break. Breath escapes his lungs, and he falls to his knees.

He tries to take a breath, and again, but his throat closes up each time. He reaches up, clawing at his neck.

Dayne kicks him in the ribs, the force sending him to the floor, lying on his side, struggling to breath. Another kick, in his stomach. And another. And another. Another.

The lack of oxygen and pain makes him lightheaded, but he hears Dayne’s voice insulting him crystal clear despite it. Pure vitriol fills his ears, makes shame burn low in his gut. His ears ring. He tastes blood in his mouth.

A hand grabs the front of his jacket, forcefully putting him face to face with Dayne. Still grinning that crooked grin. His mind starts shutting down from the lack of air.

“This is what you get, you fucking fa--”

Ragh flinches at the slur, black spots appearing in his vision.

Dayne raises his fist one last time, and punches him in the face.

 --

 Ragh Barkrock walks home with a bruise around his right eye.

It throbs dully with each step. It distracts him enough that he trips over a tree root jutting out of the sidewalk. He blinks, brow furrowed, because there are no trees in his neighborhood.

His eye throbs, and he looks back and sees a crack on the sidewalk.

Ah,  he thinks. That makes more sense.

So he continues walking down the familiar streets of Elmville leading to the only home he's ever had. He passes by the old park his mother used to bring him to when he was younger, the old swing set rusted, the ground covered with foliage. Forest foliage.

His eye throbs.

He continues walking. He doesn’t know how he got back to Elmville. He doesn’t know what happened in Sylvaire. The details become fuzzy right after Dayne punches him into unconsciousness and right before he started walking. But he does know he has to go home to his mother.

So he continues walking.

 And walking.

 And walking.

 And walking.

 And then he stops.

A familiar burgundy door. His childhood home. Somehow, the paint seems fresh.

He swipes his hand across it and it comes back smeared with red.

He opens the door.

Inside, he hears his mother in the kitchen. He goes there.

"Mom?" he calls out as he steps through the open archway.

Lydia Barkrock is seated in her wheelchair, facing the lowered stove and away from him, humming a little tune to herself.

"Mom," he approaches, but then his black eye flares with a sudden pain, and he gasps, knees hitting the floor as he clutches his eye.

The humming stops.

"What's that on your face, Ragh?" she asks without turning to face him.

He blinks through the searing pain, "Mom, wh--" the pain intensifies, sending him prone on the floor. It feels like a dagger constantly stabbing into his right eye, twisting in the socket as it exits and enters. “It… it hurts, mom--”

"Dayne Blayde gave it to you?" She says, cutting him off, "Why? What for?"

He tries to stand, to ask for help, but he can only scream in agony.

"Oh, you stupid worthless boy," there's mocking affection in her voice, and through the haze of pain, he sees the wheelchair turn. "Did you really think he would love you back?"

"M-mom, please--"

"Did you really think  anyone  would love you back?"

The smell of burning wood and smoke reaches him. Panic makes his guts twist.

The house burns, flames licking at the walls in his periphery. Have to get her out, have to save her--

"Mom, w-we have to go!" He manages to push himself up on his elbows.

"Look me in the face, son."

He urges his body to move despite the pain lancing through his eye, managing to kneel, hands clutching the sides of the wheelchair to keep himself upright.

"Look at me."

He doesn't look, a deep sense of fear telling him not to look. The smell grows stronger, and he feels heat.  Have to get mom out, keep her safe, away from the flames--

"Ragh," her voice softens, a tone of voice he rarely heard from her. "Look at me."

Slowly, he looks.

The vision of his mother's burnt face forever imprints itself in his mind.

"You killed me, Ragh," she whispers, tongue falling to ash as she speaks, her piercing eyes pinning him in place. The smell of cooked meat and singed hair fills his nose as he lets out choked sobs.

"No.  No ." Tears build up in his eyes as he tries to remember, "Principal Aguefort said--"

"He lied," she leans in, voice still whisper-soft. "You told your friends something you shouldn't have, and you killed me."

"I didn't," he whimpers, knuckles white from clutching the wheelchair. He tries to move, to twist his head away from her, but he  can’t . "I didn't kill--"

"You  killed  me!" She screams, the gem in her scorched chest pulsing with light. "You little snitch! You killed me, you killed me you killed me killed me killed me killed me--"

Charcoal hands wrap around his throat, and the paralysis loses its grip on Ragh. Instincts kick in, and he shoves her off him and into the flame.

His mother’s corpse falls to the ground, wheelchair clattering.

Ragh turns, and runs, the glow of his burning home elongating his shadow.

 --

 He runs.

He doesn’t know for how long, but he continues to run.

Exhaustion seeps into his bones, but the memory of his mother’s burnt corpse spurs him on.

So he keeps running.

Eventually, the smell of smoke fades, and he finds himself back approaching Aguefort Academy. He slows to a stop by the gates, legs shaking, feet aching.

He closes his eyes as he leans on his knees, panting with exertion.

A whistle blows, and his eyes snap open.

He’s sitting on a sideline bench. A dozen players stand in the bloodrush field, the stands filled to capacity by a boisterous audience, flood lights turned on as the evening game commences. He sees the Aguefort team playing against an unfamiliar opponent, their team colors unfamiliar to him. He hears a clapping sound beside him, and he turns to see a huge demonic entity wearing a tight white shirt and a tiny blue cap, holding a brown clipboard.

Gorthalax cups a hand around his mouth and yells, “Line, use your hips when you push!”

He turns to the field, He spots Gorgug in the line, pushing against a player much larger than him. The opponent pushes him down, a loud snapping of bones audible across the field as he lands on his arm. The enemy runner rushes past Gorgug and scores. A chorus of gasps and boos.

Ragh watches as Gorgug slowly gets up, fingers digging into the bench, expectantly darting his eyes towards the medical team on standby, but none of them go out into the field.

Horror fills him as he sees Gorgug stand and get into position, his arm twisted. The referee blows their whistle, starting the next play. The audience cheers.

“Coach! He’s hurt!” Ragh shouts, on his feet as soon as he realizes what’s happening, “You gotta get ‘im out of there!”

“‘Fraid I can’t do that, bud,” Gorthalax says, nonchalantly writing down something on his clipboard, before raising a hand to adjust his cap. “He’s our only shot at winning the line.”

“His arm’s fucking broken!” He yells, desperate, before pulling on Gorthalax’s sleeve. “Put me in! I’ll play! I’ll win the line, just get him out!”

He realizes his mistake the moment the coach turns to fully face him for the first time. Not Gorthalax, but a demonic Coach Daybreak. He snarls at Ragh, pushing him down on the ground.

“You’re  gonna win the line?” he snarls, pointing a thick, meaty finger at him. “You can’t even win against a bunch of  fucking freshmen! You’re worthless, Ragh!”

Another wave of cheers erupts from the crowd, and Ragh glances just in time to see Fabian get tackled to the ground. His attacker stands, leaving Fabian lying limp on the ground. Another blow of the referee’s whistle.

Ragh tries to run towards the field, but Daybreak grabs his arm and pulls him back. 

“You can’t do anything, boy,” he growls, “so just sit tight and watch them die.”

Gorgug falls once more with another violent push from the enemy line. He lands next to Fabian, unconscious. Another round of cheers. Another whistle.

Filled to the brim with desperation, Ragh turns and punches Daybreak across the face, shocking him enough to make him lose his grip. A glint of metal catches his eye, and he sees his glaive lying against the bench.

He grabs it and charges into the field and stands in front of his collapsed friends, teeth bared. He feels strength come back to his arms as he goes into an aggressive stance. Opponents start rushing at him, and he tries his best to hold them back. The roar of the audience doubles out here in the field, cheers and taunts and jeers and applause overwhelming his senses.

He gets into the rhythm of the fight-- dodging the hits he can and withstanding those he can’t with rage. He slashes at the approaching attackers, uses his weapon’s reach to keep them at bay.

His entire being feels clear in a way it hasn’t been in a long time. Battle ready and out to kill. Every single hit that lands causes the audience to scream with delight, blood spilling into the grass. The sound exhilarates him.

Keen eyes spy a slight figure clad in that unknown team’s colors crouched next to the unconscious Gorgug, and he roars. He swings his glaive high to come down on them, but they dodge out of the way as it does.

The crowd boos, insults falling from their lips with Dayne and Daybreak’s voices overlapping with theirs.

So he tries again, putting even more force behind the second blow, only to be rebuffed by a spectral shield.

Even more jeering from the audience, slurs and mocking laughter. He thinks he hears his mother screaming.

He moves to attack once more, but then another figure grapples him from behind, forcing him into a headlock.

A voice comes through, shouting above the crowd.

“Ragh, Ragh! This is not you!”

Out of the corner of his eye, he glimpses brown skin and dark hair.

“It’s  not you! ”

He looks up, and the moon gleams, before flooding the sky with its light. The world turns white around him, and the bloodrush field vanishes. A cool and gentle magic floods into his mind, dispelling the possession and the fear.

His knees immediately go weak and he collapses, the weight of exhaustion coming back all at once. He collapses to his hands and knees, gasping and sobbing.

When his sight comes back, he sees Aelwyn kneeling on the forest floor, crouched protectively over Adaine’s body. His guts twist at the hole in her chest, her denim jacket tacky with gore. Bile rises in his throat.

“Hey,” Tracker says, putting a hand on his shoulder. Her eyes are bloodshot but determined, mouth set. “Head in the game.”

He takes another gasping breath, and nods.

He looks up.

He sees Kalina, claws out and razor-sharp. He sees Adaine’s mother, floating as she readies another spell. He sees the real Gorthalax, grappling with the Nightmare King.

He sees his friends, bloody and bruised but not backing down.

Ragh stands, glaive in hand, muscles protesting and body shaking with the effort, but he stands nonetheless.

This nightmare's not over yet.