#like all the spells i have for him are area of effect and are pretty much useless for that fight i was like damn i wish i had gale for this | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hana-no-seiiki · 5 months ago

Text

BROKEN EXPECTATIONS, NEW ASPIRATIONS (I/III)

⟣┄─ ˑ 𝐈. ✧ yandere! batfam + dc heroes x yandere! alien! reader (ft. ocs of mine, and other dc characters)

synopsis: you weren’t as innocent and benevolent as they thought you were, but that just makes things all the more exciting

tw/cw: dddne, reader is yan (platonic for this part, romantic for future parts(diff people). yandere themes, general violence, torture, sadist reader, incest (one-sided/not reader n it’s a brief mention so it’s not a main part of the story oh god-). reader is half based on jingliu/jingyuan from honkai star rail + laezel from bg3 worldbuilding. and there’s also a bit of malenia/miquella inspirations. reader has a background. reader’s alieness is explored/talked about. op! reader. wish fulfillment.

in short this was an oc insert of mine that i reconfigured for you guys to read. not your thing? scroll past thenks.

[next]

YOU HAVE ALWAYS BEEN THE KINDEST, MOST LOVING PERSON THE BAT-FAMILY EVER KNEW. You were so gracious with your benevolence that each and every vigilante took it upon themselves to take care of you at all moments lest you fall into unsafe situations or the hands of people who would ruthlessly take advantage of you.

Eventually, they forgot the fact that you were the sibling of the notoriously violent DAYBREAK, a vigilante that could be easily called a villain or terrorist instead if it weren’t for his close affiliation and friendship with the old Teen Titans crew when he was younger. He helped once in a while, but only if it meant he had free rein to cause carnage.

“This is useless, they won’t fess up.” Jason grunted as he fumbled around with his weapons, all broken after the battle just moments prior. Aliens and their abilities always made him feel so small in the grand scheme of things, and especially when they completely obliterated his entire arsenal.

Tim groaned, his back ached from the amount of times he was flung away towards whatever wall or ally the enemy wanted him to go to. He was used to being man-handled and even enjoyed that once in a while, but not in that way. “Aren’t they one of your kind? Cant you like… I don’t know…”

Your brother huffed, a pout on his pretty features. Quite similar to yours. Yet, he doesn’t spare the rest a glance. His eyes were trained solely on a restraining spell he managed to conjure as a last ditch attempt to stop the fight before it got . . . irreversible. Usually he’d just disintegrate whatever or whoever even looked at him wrong but even this titan-like intruder was proving to be a pain in the ass. “I can’t believe you, doesn’t mean we’re the same kind or whatever that means that—“

“He’ll be lucky to be even considered as one of us, filthy —“ The massive form spoke. Its metal like body clanging as it struggled in the spell’s area of effect. A soldier from your home planet, not as well trained as your brother — but he was brimming with aetherial ardor. A sort of magic source your people used.

“Okay, that’s it.” [Brother’s Name] groaned, summoning the last piece of his strength to open up a terminal. “Hey mooncake, need ya to do something for me.”

“No, we aren’t letting [Y/N] anywhere near this one. They could get seriously hurt. We were barely even able to—“ Dick held him by the shoulder, only to get burned by your brother’s leaking ardorial energy.

“Relax. Besides I’m not in your team. I don’t have to follow orders from you.”

“Daybr—“ Rachel, her cape almost completely burnt and tattered opened her mouth to admonish him.

But the sound of your sweet voice (more like hoarse, and half awake) silenced them all, “What do you need help with this time?”

“[L/N] don’t listen, go back to sleep, beloved.” Damian moved in from behind, learning from Dick’s mistake and instead using his blade to warn [Brother’s Name].

But if anything, that made the man more excited to annoy the “demonspawn”.

“Oh, mooncake you can’t believe who I stumbled upon today! Smile for the camera why don’t you?”

[Brother’s Name] flipped the terminal to show your face.

“You’re . . . General [Y/—“

And then flipped it back, showing his injured body. “He hurt me real bad. Look.”

Your face does not move nor your voice waver,

“Come back to the base.”

“No.” Black Canary, Dinah, slammed her hands on the table. She couldn’t believe this. It was already bad that they allowed you to be involved in their line of work, now they were letting you come face to face with a being that almost wiped an entire team of experience fighters? What were they thinking?

“That . . . thing is dangerous. We cannot allow this to continue!” Arthur concurred. He saw the state of your brother. A civilian like you had no business with something so dangerous.

“Unfortunately I have to say no to your refusal as well.” You calmly responded, “This situation is under the jurisdiction of the Fleet. It is only right that Daybreak and I deal with it.”

“Father you can’t possibly allow them.” Damian gripped your shoulder as he pleaded with Bruce. He had known you the longest next to Tim. You were barely able to hold your own as a normal student. Not that he was looking down on you, but if you couldn’t even fight for yourself in conversation, how could he let you be around that monster?

Bruce closed his eyes in deep contemplation. He studied your kind comprehensively. He did so for every vigilante and villain alike (Contingencies were his specialty) From how your magic system worked, to how society and customs were like. A lot of his knowledge came from Clark, who had also done his fair share of investigative work into your background.

He of all people in this line of work knew how dangerous you and [Brother’s Name] can be. He had done his calculations based off of what Daybreak could do. But curiosity drove him further.

“Fine.”

“Father!”

“But the whole league will be watching you, alongside the Young Justice and Teen Titans.”

“Sheesh, overkill much?” Daybreak, now plain [Brother’s Name] in a bunch of casts, piped up.

You nodded, quite honestly just aching to get out from this stuffy room already. “That is fine.”

Before you left, you head swiveled to take one last look at your sibling, building up whatever emotions you needed to see the job through, “Get some rest, brother.”

“Are you kidding? I gotta watch this.” Your brother laughed in earnest, almost-too-wholesome-for-him manner. You managed to understand why as his eyes scanned the people in the room.

He wanted to see them react to your true nature.

Your form finally disappeared from his sight as his eyes finally settled on another image of you glued atop a folder. “What are those?” He pouts to gesture at the objects, too injured to move his limbs.

“Files on [Y/N] and the being.” Bruce answered, opening up the screens for the cameras to the interrogation room.

[Brother’s Name] knows you’d give him a sermon for using his powers while he was already banged up but he had no choice. His arms were too broken to open up the folder after all. “You guys work quick.” He commented as the papers levitated and flipped through itself.

His eyes scanned the typewritten document swiftly, smile growing by the moment, “Pffft — kind hearted soul? Who wrote this?”

“It was compiled by me, but our sources vary from vigilante to civilians.” Clark mumbled. As one of the only other aliens, and people who could feel aetherial arbor. He felt your presence, your anger leaking earlier. It was heavy, as if the world was suddenly placed upon his shoulders. Yet he felt no fear for his own safety, only yours.

The gigantic door before you slid open revealing the enemy the vigilantes struggled to subdue earlier.

The soldier stood upright, sensing your presence. The rumors were true it would seem. Many wouldn’t be able to spot it, a testament to whatever you did to conceal your prowess, but they immediately recognized the magnitude of your ardor practically oozing around you.

He was expecting your anger. He knew of your protective nature towards your brother.

“My apologies.” But you didn’t. Instead you began nursing their injuries, repairing their armor, and even initiating casual conversation. “It must have been a long journey. I can’t help but resent whoever sent you here.”

“Your Excellency! I came of my own volition.”

“Oh? But judging from your armor you must be one of the knights.”

“Yes, 512th Squadron of the Imperial Army.”

“Of course, my eldest brother’s . . . “ Your fought to keep your hands from clenching. A gentle smile on your features remained unshaken even by the sudden revelation.

“Y-yes, your Excellency. It took many jumps for me to get here on my own.”

“Alone? What did you wish to come here for?”

“I-I wished to meet you but those Earthlings wouldn’t let me.”

“Mm. And so you fought them. As is right for one of our kind.” You brought out a handkerchief and wiped down your hands after finishing the task at hand. Then you took a seat in front of them.

“You understand! Of course.”

“Actually I came here to bid you to return. The Emperor misses you dearly and wishes to see you.”

“Do you know why he does?”

“N-no?”

You looked down. Voice soft, relaxed shoulders, a solemn tone, and a tremble to add on top. “My brother. He wishes to have a child with me. To use my powers in the form of a future heir to the throne.”

“I am not quite ready to have a child yet.” Nor were you interested with being a babymaker for that tyrant. But that wasn’t an appropriate excuse in the grand scheme of things.

“I understand! Your Excellency is quite young and even then, you have saved countless of lives. You deserve only to do as wish and nothing less.” The soldier slammed the floor in front of it. “Besides, his Majesty had already taken so many concubines I’m sure an heir wouldn’t be needed anytime soon.”

You nodded. A moment or two of silence for your mind to recollect everything that has been said before you execute what you came here for in the first place. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. “How incompetent must the new Imperial General be at the moment?”

“Pardon?”

“Information is the most valuable asset to any sort of battle. As a general I kept a tight leash on it. Lest it spilled and caused unnecessary ruckus.” My knights were drilled, put through fire and blood, wiped clean before they were thrown back into hell again. And most importantly they were taught to sew their mouth shut or die. You, you just spilled everything I needed to know the moment I showed that I cared.”

“Your Excellency, I —“

“I was only going to punish you for trespassing. A measly act of destroying your Aetherial Helix.” “But in all honesty, I might be doing that brother Emperor of mine a favor by going . . . further.”

“N-no, you wouldn’t, you’re—!” The soldier was about to defend you even in its dying moments. But as it truly recounted all that has been told about you from its peers and seniors, it realizes one truly fatal fact.

You were never known for benevolence.

“Please! I did this all for you! I only wanted you back as my General!”

“Let this be a lesson.”

“No, please ! I- I - I beg of you—“

You looked up to the ceiling, beyond it — the stars and the infinite darkness you once called your home.

“And so I’ll continue to wield your blade, until I cut the stars from sky. I will protect you even from the gods I serve.”

You chant. The blood on your hands once again becoming too visible and distracting.

“Thank you for your service, soldier.” You deeply bow your head to the disintegrating corpse beneath you. Allowing the fallen's drained life essence to cover your forehead. [Brother Name] smiles. To others it may seem to have been a sign of respect — but to your kind, you were simply absorbing the spoils of battle. Taking in the dead and disgraced's remaining imprint on this world.

“My deepest apologies for the mess and time it took. The matter has been dealt with.” You returned. The blood, having dripped down your face, had dried and turned dark.

“I hope this has not soured your view on me.”

“Not at all . . .” Tim was the first to speak at your return. His fingers unconsciously replaying the footage of your . . . execution. Millions of questions already shot across his head as he was eager to probe you on them one way or another.

If anything it only made their obsession with you worse.

“Let me be your sinner, brother. This oath I shall never forsake.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere oc #yandere imagine #yandere fic #yandere oc x reader #yandere core #yandere scenario #tw yandere #yandere batfam #yandere concept #yandere dc x reader #yandere teen titans #yandere young justice #batfam x reader #yandere batfam x reader #yandere tim drake x reader #yandere various dc x reader

358 notes · View notes

samcarter34 · 7 months ago

Text

Since people seem to once again be having trouble remembering the order of operations, let me just remind everyone:

The ability Laudna possesses to feed Delilah is Hunger of the Shadow. In the fight with Bor’dor, Laudna used that BEFORE Orym’s head nod. Bor’dor attacked them and her response was to do the thing she knew would give power to Delilah. Matt even makes the sound of Delilah’s heartbeat.

The spell she used after the head nod? Whither and Bloom. The same spell she later attacked Orym with, which isn’t even a warlock spell.

And speaking of the head nod, you want to know what’s it’s prefaced with? ‘Laudna you can do whatever you want.’ And Marisha responds by saying that Laudna is ‘barely present’ because she’s having ptsd flashbacks to all of the times something horrible happened to her and she couldn’t do anything about it. So she kills Bor’dor because it makes her feel in control of the situation.

And yeah, the 4SD where Liam says Orym thought Delilah might come back. Except y’all somehow took that and made it seem like he’s the one who shoved Laudna over the edge when what actually happened is that Laudna flung herself off it because betrayal is triggering to her.

And the sword. The sword which apparently wasn’t triggering enough that Imogen contemplating whether the Vanguard were good guys didn’t cause any reaction. Or for that matter, make her object to Ashton’s ‘this is permission statement.’ But she saw Orym wearing it, got uncomfortable and then all it took was one sentence from Delilah for her to decide to steal it. Delilah, who mutilated her, murdered her, has been possessing her for decades, and who basically held her soul hostage when BH wanted VM to resurrect Laudna. But what Delilah didn’t do? Tell Laudna to steal the sword.

I wasn’t around for campaign 1, but in campaign 2 I definitely noticed a trend that people who were all ‘I love women! Female characters rock!’ would, the second one of their alleged faves did something controversial (or just something they didn’t like) would find a way to shift the onus onto someone else so she could remain blameless. And that is definitely continuing this campaign, and if anything is getting worse (which, not to get into speculation, but I wonder if it’s because all of the female characters this go round are more traditionally feminine than last campaign.)

I think the reason Orym’s been getting raked across the coals so hard by certain parts of the fandom is actually because of this. Because Imogen’s repeatedly gone ‘what if the Vanguard have a point’ and Laudna agrees with everything she says, whereas Orym’s been pretty consistently ‘no, the murder cult that murdered my family are bad guys.’ And well, can’t go around admitting that our faves did something wrong.’

And so we have a situation where Laudna attacks Orym, but somehow that’s Orym’s fault because the possibility of Laudna doing something wrong ruins people’s lesbian cottegecore fantasy. But the thing is, that whole thing was all Laudna. She chose to listen to her first murderer when Delilah said ‘maybe it’s cursed’ and then she chose to blanket the room in magical darkness (sorcerer ability, not warlock) chose to cast an area of effect spell to destroy the thing Orym was using to sheath the sword (sorcerer spell, not warlock) and, upon hurting Orym, chose not to drop said darkness, which meant Orym couldn’t see who attacked him. And when she got caught, she tried to downplay what she did, tried to say that because she didn’t mean to hurt him it didn’t count, refused to apologize for actually hurting him, kept shifting her argument (and even low key got called out on it by Imogen when she asked Laudna why she’s want its power inside her if she thinks it’s so evil.)

There is an alternate universe where Laudna wakes Orym up and they have what probably would have been an intense discussion about the sword (and that might even have been what Marisha was aiming for before Delilah got involved) and THAT truly would have been the ‘both sides are equally right’ scenario, but that’s not what we got. And you can say Orym shouldn’t have taken the sword unilaterally (but somehow Laudna’s allowed to unilaterally steal and absorb it?) or that she’s being manipulated by Delilah, but the fact is that Laudna’s an adult and is responsible for her own decisions. Yes, Delilah is a powerful and malign presence that they all downplayed/ignored, but, to use Marisha’s addiction metaphor, making amends with those you’ve harmed is a part of recovery for a reason. Because ultimately, you are the one who did that. Yes, it does immensely suck for Laudna that she’s been handed the cards she has been, but it’s up to her to make the best play she can.

Wow this got long, but my overall point is that Laudna is a character with her own agency and makes her own decisions (well, Marisha makes them, but at this point y’all should know she’s not conflict averse and is willing to have her characters make controversial character choices). And really, take all that away, what’s left? How much onus can you take from a character before you might as well go look at a painting?

#critical role #cr spoilers #long post #Like this is a Marisha character and a warlock. Do you think she’s going to sit there and be pretty #some of you would hate Fig Faeth’s ‘Complicated Women’ podcast #also this is the part where I say that the cast can say whatever they want on 4SD. If it contradicts the actual show I ignore it #anyway very curious to see what happens when they get to Aeor #Imagine what happens if Delilah tried to get her to eat the beacon

448 notes · View notes

theemporium · 1 year ago

Text

The mission was supposed to be a simple lookout and scope.

The Order had received some intel about dodgy meet-ups and gatherings that seem linked to Voldemort, or at least some of his most loyal followers. But with little information on the place and the fine details, the Order had decided the safest option would be to send a few members out to sweep the area before they sent out a full team.

The team sent out were you, Remus and Sirius—a strong team that should have been able to hold themselves pretty well if something went wrong. And to be fair, you were a strong team until you realised the whole thing was a massive trap.

However with all three of you trained in combat by some of the greatest wizards in the Wizarding World, the countless battles and duels were a breeze. The issue came from the smoke bomb thrown at the three of you as you fled to find a safe place to hide until backup came.

The effects didn’t kick in until you had lost them, finding safety in a small abandoned building near the edge of the town you were visiting. The place was damp, creaky and cold, but it was far better than battling off an unknown amount of deatheaters without extra help. You didn’t even notice yourself until Sirius kept shuffling beside you, squirming as he pulled at the collar of his shirt.

“Would you stop?” You hissed, your eyes peeking through a slit between boards of wood as you waited to see if you had been followed,

“I can’t,” Sirius huffed, letting out a noise of distress as he tugged on his clothes. “‘m fuckin’ boiling.”

You rolled your shoulders back, trying to ignore the sudden acknowledgement of how hot it was in an abandoned tavern that should have had the three of you shivering for warmth without any heating spells.

“Fuck,” Remus groaned, his eyes fluttering shut as he pressed his back against the wall. “It must’ve been that fuckin’ bomb they threw at us.”

“What was it?” Sirius groaned.

“Not sure,” Remus bit back.

And for a while, it stayed like that. It stayed unbearably warm as the three of you squirmed and fanned yourselves and hoped that the others were coming soon—maybe even with a cure to whatever it was that was affecting you.

Your eyes wandered over the two boys, taking in their appearances.

Remus was leaning back against the wall, the sweater of his long gone and leaving him in a tight t-shirt that moulded around his arms. His neck was exposed as he leaned his head back, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed deeply and let out a shuddering sigh. Your eyes wandered down his body, noticing the faint outline of his abs through the shirt before you paused on the tent in his trousers.

Your cheeks burned, your gaze quickly snapping over to Sirius.

His chest was completely bare, the remainder of his clothes sitting in a pile beside him. His hair was tied into a low bun on the back of his head, his jaw softly clenching as he hummed and drummed his fingers against his thighs. Your eyes focused on his hands, on the way his rings glinted in the low light and the way they moved with such speed and dexterity.

“You’re staring.”

Your eyes snapped up, finding Remus watching you with hooded eyes.

“What?”

“Don’t act all innocent,” he mused, his lips twitching upwards. “You were staring. At both of us. It’s making your lil’ head spin, isn’t it, love?”

“Remus,” you breathed out, but no further words came out.

“Shhh, don’t need to be shy about it,” Remus murmured as his eyes wandered over to Sirius. “I don’t blame you.”

“I—” You started, but you didn’t know what to say. You found them both attractive, you would have been fucking blind to think otherwise. But they were your friends. Your friends you had known for years. Your friends who you had never thought about in such a way—at least, not in broad daylight when you were around people.

“Bet you’re fuckin’ soaking for us,” Remus continued as he pushed himself off the wall. However, just when you thought he would be close enough for you to touch, he made his way towards Sirius and you couldn’t help but whimper in response.

Sirius let out a groan when Remus pulled the bun, unravelling his hair and making it easier to pull the boy’s head back. Remus glanced down at him, at the neediness in his eyes and the flush of his cheeks and he couldn’t help himself as he leaned down to kiss Sirius.

You squirmed in your spot as you watched them. As you watched Remus’ tongue slide into Sirius’ mouth. As Sirius’ hands gripped Remus’ waist before sliding over the bulge in his trousers. As both boys moaned and panted and kissed until their lungs were burning for air.

Remus’ hooded eyes found yours when he pulled away, his lips swollen and wet as Sirius desperately palmed himself. You didn’t even hesitate as you crawled over, settling yourself on Sirius’ lap even if your eyes stayed locked on the other wizard.

“Stinging nettle.”

You frowned. “What?”

“A plant used for multiple potions, most harmful,” Remus stated as he gripped your face in his hand, his thumb brushing over your lips. “If brewed right, it can kill someone slowly and painfully.”

Your lips parted, wrapping around his thumb wordlessly as he pushed it deeper into your mouth.

“Brewed wrong and it can have many varying effects,” he continued as his eyes darkened. “Itchiness…overheating…dehydration…increased libido.”

“Some smoke made us fuckin’ horny?” Sirius scoffed, only to let out a low groan when your hips bucked against him, grinding down on his painfully hard cock. “Shit, sweetheart.”

“And there’s only one way to fix it,” Remus replied as he watched your eyes roll to the back of your head, your body seeming to move on its own accord against Sirius as you eagerly sucked his thumb. “Feelin’ needy, honey?”

You whined, nodding.

“You want us to fill you up? Make you feel better?”

You nodded again. You needed them. You needed them in a way you had never needed anyone before. You needed them both inside you. You needed them fucking you. You needed to feel them both fuck you, keeping your holes stretched and accessible to them. You needed to be pressed between them as they groped and squeezed and touched every single inch of you.

You needed them so bad, you could have sworn you would die if they didn’t fuck you soon.

“Then be a good girl and listen,” Remus said. “Gonna need to make sure we deal with this properly, okay? Now be a darling and get on your knees, I wanna see Sirius’ cock bulging in that pretty throat of yours.”

967 notes · View notes

the-travelling-witch · 2 years ago

Text

𝐂𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬

summary: kissing your friend aka your crush

pairings: riddle :: jamil :: vil :: idia x gn! reader

warnings: none! just fluff ♡

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

Sunlight was falling through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Heartslabyul Lounge and reflecting in your tea cup as you stared at the paper in front of you. Tapping the pencil against your chin you read through the assignment again only to lean back against your seat and sigh.

“Prefect, is there anything I can help you with? Please, do not hesitate to ask me if anything is unclear.” Riddle’s voice rang through the quiet room, the scraping of his pencil momentarily stopping as he looked up at you. “I’m sure it must be hard having to study an entirely new curriculum, especially when you can’t draw on any practical experiences with magic. As a housewarden it is naturally my duty to help my peers in their education.”

You were sure Riddle’s offer to help went beyond just his housewarden duties, having become pretty close friends with you after the overblot incident in your first month. Since then, he had gradually warmed up to you, inviting you over for unbirthday parties, study sessions or a stroll through the rose labyrinth.

So, quite inevitably, you slowly felt your feelings for your friend change. What used to be gratitude for getting the Adeuce combo off your back or joy at having someone to eat lunch with shifted into excitement at seeing him again or disappointment when you thought you had caught sight of him in a crowd, just for it to be someone else. Once you realised the situation you were in, it became even harder to hide those feelings, especially when you could feel the heat crawling up your neck when the housewarden reached over to fix your tie or straighten your uniform.

“Thank you, Riddle. There actually is something I don’t understand,” you sheepishly scratched the back of your head. Sliding over your Applied Magic homework, you pointed out the question you were struggling with. “Why is it dangerous to use a spell like this in that situation?”

“Ah, I see.” Taking a moment to reflect on how to explain it best, Riddle’s steel grey eyes flitted to the roses outside for a moment. “Try visualising the question’s context and the effect of the spell you're casting before your mind’s eye. What kind of environment are you in and how would the magic affect it?”

“Hmm, the energy released from the spell could… shake the unstable structure of the walls and ceiling and cause it to collapse? And even if it doesn’t collapse, the falling debris could still cause major injuries?”

“Yes, that’s correct. A lot of offensive magic packs more energy than defensive magic and therefore has a greater impact on the environment rather than the caster themselves,” Riddle explained further. “Now, consider all previously used magic. In this example, a few spells have already been cast, like this shielding spell for example. How straining are they on the caster and how long do they linger in the area?”

“Uh, let's see… The elements of previous spells might react with that of the current one, causing unpredictable side-effects. And in a stressful situation like this casting an unstable spell could put more pressure on the magic user, leading to… faster blot accumulation?” The last part was a total stab in the dark and you nervously watched Riddle’s unreadable expression before he gave you a satisfied smile.

“Correct again, Prefect. It is very impressive that you have such a nuanced understanding of Applied Magic, despite not being able to use it yourself.” The gleam in his eyes was genuine before he let out a defeated sigh. “If only some of the Heartslabyul first years would give magic a second thought before leaping into action…”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at that, having a pretty good image of just who he was referring to. Now, with your work out of the way, you could finally let your thoughts drift. And almost immediately they went to the housewarden sitting next to you.

Looking at him, it was almost as if time stood still. In the afternoon sun, his hair was positively glowing and his grey eyes seemed even brighter than usual. As always, his posture was perfect and poised and there was such an elegance in the way he carried himself. You wouldn’t be surprised if he was actual royalty.

When he put the tea cup to his lips and took a sip you suddenly remembered the videos you had seen back in your world where people kissed their best friend to see their reaction or to confess. Riddle probably wouldn’t approve but when he turned to you, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his lips. You’d bet on the fact that they were soft with the taste of tea…

“-fect! Prefect! Are you alright? I’ve been calling your name multiple times now.” Blinking back into reality, you came face to face with a concerned Riddle who was leaning over. Putting the back of his fingers against your forehead, his brows creased even more. “I wanted to ask if you want to try the strawberry tarts Trey baked but you’re burning up. Perhaps you should go and rest up. The rules might not state it but you can even stay at Heartslabyul if Ramshackle’s too–”

Before the thought process registered in your brain, you had already pulled Riddle closer by his collar and connected your lips. You were right. As with every aspect of his life, his lips were properly cared for and pillowy soft and after you parted, you thought you could make out a hint of sweets and lemon.

With a shocked yelp of your name, Riddle snapped you back to the present once more. Under different circumstances, the sight of the usually put-together housewarden staring at you with saucer-wide eyes and his face decorated with a rose-red hue might have been endearing but, right now, it chilled you to the bone.

Jumping up from your seat and noisily scraping the chair over the floor, you hurriedly stuffed all your belongings in your backpack, ready to book the hell out of there. “I’m sorry, Riddle, I really have to go water the cat and feed the plants–”

“Prefect please wait.” A hand gently wrapped around your wrist and made you turn around. The short-tempered housewarden wasn’t yelling (yet), which you took as a good sign. In fact, he wasn’t meeting your eyes at all. “I have to admit that was quite the surprise. But… not an unpleasant one. Prefect, if I may be so bold, do you have feelings for me?”

“Well, I don’t kiss just anybody I meet,” you awkwardly chuckled but you quickly abandoned the idea of joking yourself out of this situation at Riddle’s unimpressed reaction. With a sigh, you conceded. “Yeah, I do have feelings for you. Look, I am really sorry, I don’t know what–”

“I’m not,” he quickly interrupted. “I’m not sorry this happened. I, too, like you. More than a friend, that is. I might not have the most experience in this field but I’m willing to try if it’s with you. However, I do believe there is a proper protocol to be followed.

“Prefect, before you spring another surprise kiss on me, may I take you out on a date first?”

JAMIL VIPER

The sound of boiling water and knives moving over a chopping board filled NRC’s kitchen. At this time of day -or should you say night?- nobody but Jamil usually came here. Most students were probably already heading to bed or cramming in a late-night study session right about now but the vice housewarden of Scarabia was still diligently meal prepping for the following day.

“Could you pass me the turmeric please?” He didn’t even look up to see if you had heard him, eyes still trained on his task at hand.

“Sure, here you go.” Sliding over the spice, you took another moment to study his side profile. As always, there wasn’t much of an emotion readable on his face but you noticed how his shoulders seemed less tense than during the day. Or maybe it was just your imagination.

After he hummed a ‘thanks’, both of you went back to working in silence. You really appreciated Jamil trusting you enough to let you lend a hand, knowing just how strict he was about being the only one to prepare Kalim’s food. The first time you asked to help, in fact, he had watched you like a hawk and your hands had never shaken more.

At first, Jamil had been a little annoyed, thinking he’d have to look after someone else instead, but as you swung by more often, he started to appreciate the company. Not only did you not cause any trouble for him but you also stuck by him even after his overblot, whereas the rest of his dorm gave him a wide berth. So he allowed you to stay and if he ever ‘accidentally’ made too much food he let you take the leftovers.

And you, too, started to enjoy his presence more and more. You didn’t necessarily need to do something together, just being in the same space while working was enough to put you at ease. That was when you realised your actual feelings for Jamil but you didn’t know what to do with them.

Besides fear of rejection, you were also well aware of his position as Kalim’s retainer. Acting out on your feelings could cause a lot of problems for him even if he were to reciprocate them. Could he even accept them?

Before you knew it, your thoughts had distracted you enough to where your knife was merely hovering over the poor vegetable in front of you. As you were about to shake your distractions away, two warm hands already took the knife and board from you.

“You shouldn’t handle sharp objects when you’re not feeling well,” Jamil sighed but you could tell he wasn’t upset with you, rather, he was concerned. “You could seriously injure yourself.”

“I’m feeling fine actually,” you said. It wasn’t like you were physically unwell.

“Are you now? I couldn't help but notice you spacing out a lot more often lately.” Quickly throwing everything into the pot, Jamil leant against the counter with his arms crossed, giving you an earnest once-over. He was quiet for a while before mumbling “It’s okay to ask for help you know. You don’t have to do everything yourself.”

“That’s rich coming from you, Mr. Workaholic,” you snorted. “Between the two of us, the one in need of a break is not me. Anyhow, it’s nothing, so don’t worry about me.”

“So there is something after all,” Jamil cocked his head to the side with a raised brow.

“Great Seven, if you must know. Yes there is something that’s been weighing on my mind,” you groaned. “Are you happy now?”

“I’d be happier if you also told me how I can help you.”

“And if I told you you can’t?”

“Then I wouldn’t believe you.” This guy…

“Agree to disagree, then,” you deadpanned. Turning your back to hide your burning cheeks, you pretended to wipe your hands. This once, you had wished Jamil’s sharp senses would fail him but of course not.

The irony of this situation wasn’t lost on you.

As you had your back turned, you hadn’t noticed Jamil stepping closer, so you nearly collided with him as you went to face him again. Quickly, he steadied you by your shoulders, his touch lingering perhaps a little longer than necessary.

“Prefect, let me be perfectly honest with you, I’m worried about you. You’re not normally this distracted or careless.” And whose fault was that?

“You know it’s hard to keep saying no to you like that. But I really don’t think you’d want to know,” you sighed.

Aside from the bubbling pot, the kitchen was quiet as you leaned against the countertop and examined your fingers. For a moment, nothing but you two in this moment seemed to exist. Jamil wasn’t bound to the Asim family and your future wasn’t so uncertain. If only it matched reality.

“Try me.” Jamil’s voice was a lot gentler now. You thought you saw his hand hover over yours for but a second, then chalked it up to wishful thinking. “You’ve shown me that it’s okay to be my own person and that it’s possible for me to have my own dreams despite my status; I’m very grateful for that. I also really like… spending time with you, so please tell me what’s wrong.”

Heaving a deep exhale, you braved yourself for whatever was bound to happen next. Maybe you were about to lose a friend.

“I don’t know if it’s wrong but… I like you, Jamil.”

As you looked up you caught a glimpse of surprise on his features before it was replaced by his usual poker face. “I’d hope so, seeing as you’ve referred to me as your friend.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know that.” If you took the leap you might as well see it through to the end. Leaning in, you placed a quick kiss against his cheek before turning and marching straight towards the door, leaving Jamil alone in the kitchen. “I like you like that.”

Luckily, the next day was a Saturday, so you could stay in bed and pull the covers over your head. Ignoring the yelling cat in your house and the absolute flood of text notifications from what you assumed was the first year group chat might as well have been your signature spell.

Eventually, you did crawl out from under the sheets and got dressed, even if it was just because the growling of your stomach became too annoying to ignore. As you were rummaging your fridge for something edible that wasn’t tuna, the doorbell rang which was suspicious enough. Nobody ever rang the doorbell.

As you approached the door, you could already make out Jamil’s neatly tied back hair. Steeling yourself, you slowly opened the door to find he hadn’t magically transformed into someone else.

“Jamil, what brings you over at this time of day?” Forcing as much normality as possible into your voice, you hoped that maybe he had just forgotten.

“I wanted to talk about what happened last night.” So much for that. “I sent you a few messages but you didn’t respond.”

“Nya! What’s that? Are you the reason my henchman has been hiding in bed all day?” You whipped around at hearing Grim speak, promptly grabbing him by the bow around his neck and throwing him out of the dorm.

“Go play with Ace and Deuce for the day.” Ushering Jamil inside, you threw the door closed before Grim could protest. “Don’t mind him.”

“I didn’t see you at breakfast,” he started as he handed you a container with some of the food you cooked yesterday. “I thought you might be hungry.”

As on cue, your stomach growled rather loudly. “That’s very thoughtful of you, Jamil, but you didn’t have to come all the way here just for that.”

“I also wanted to apologise,” he blurted out. Ah, so he came to reject you once and for all. “I didn’t give you a proper response. Well, to be fair, you didn’t give me the time to do it.”

You bashfully looked away, standing with your back towards him, at the memory of storming out of the kitchen. Your response came out a lot more seriously though. “Jamil, I’m sorry for saying something so selfish, I know that your work–”

You were cut off by being spun around suddenly until you were looking into Jamil’s sharp eyes. “No, I’m tired of my work getting in the way of what I want. You said it was selfish of you to tell me your feelings? Then let me be selfish as well and tell you I reciprocate them.”

There was such genuine certainty in those pools of grey, you couldn’t help but reach out and cup his cheek. One of his hands wrapped around your waist to pull you closer as the other found yours. Bringing it up to his lips, he held eye contact as he placed a tender kiss on your knuckles.

“For once, I’d like something entirely to myself.”

VIL SCHOENHEIT

“Hold still.” At Vil’s commanding tone you completely froze despite not moving much in the first place. “Good. Now close your eyes.”

You did as he said and tried your best not to flinch as the cool brush touched your eyelids. While Vil concentrated on perfecting your eye make-up, you did your best not to think too hard about his fingers currently holding your chin or how the scent of his perfume invaded your senses.

Despite being close friends with the Pomefiore Housewarden, it was still quite the task not to shrink away under his scrutinising gaze, even if it was directed at his own work rather than you. How did Epel endure this every day?

Well, the first year was most likely not head over heels for Vil and didn’t turn into a stuttering mess every time he talked to him. So much for your plan to play this crush cool and be as graceful and elegant about it as possible. Yeah, there was probably a reason you weren’t a Pomefiore student.

But then again, this was Vil you were talking about. The walking, talking, breathing definition of perfection. On top of that, he was smart and hard-working with the skills to back up his confidence. Naturally, he had people falling at his feet, no matter how intimidating he came across as. Not wanting to be seen as just another one of the masses, you decided to hide your feelings to the best of your abilities.

And so far, it seemed to be working. You were a regular visitor at Pomefiore dorm, so much so, the guards already let you pass the gates as if you actually belonged there. Seeing the actor achieve loftier goals over time, surpassing others and himself on numerous occasions, was fulfilling in its own way. There was a spark of pride every time he was chosen for a new lead role or when he had the chance to work on a new line of skin care. Yet, although you got to be close to Vil this way, it still kind of stung to know that this would be all there’d probably ever be between the two of you.

“My, I have to say, this is a job well done,” Vil concluded, giving you a content smirk and turning your chair to face his pristine vanity. What could you say, he was right. Even though the make-up wasn’t all that elaborate or out there, you still almost didn’t recognise the person staring back from the mirror. “You clean up nicely, potato. I’ll permit you to stand by my side now.”

“You never fail to impress me, Vil. Just, how do you do it?” you chuckled, your eyes finding his in the reflection. “Normally, I would’ve called it magic, but I know better now.”

“Magic has nothing to do with this. It’s solely hard work and practice which makes perfect.” Spinning you back around, he came face to face with you again. “While you flatter me, I am far from finished. I will see this through ‘til the end and perfect this look.”

With that, Vil went back to work, prepping your lips to the point where you were convinced this would be the smoothest they’d ever be. Then, with a look of utmost concentration, he started tracing them with a lip liner before filling them out with lipstick and applying gloss after blotting it.

Despite being finished, the housewarden didn’t move away from you and you were suddenly keenly aware of the distance between you. Or the lack thereof, rather. Subconsciously, your gaze drifted to Vil’s mouth before snapping back up as you caught yourself. Your heart was racing so fast, you’d be surprised if he didn’t hear it. Was this how you died?

You knew you shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t, but screw it. The few months here had already put you through so much, at one point you stopped thinking things through twice and just leapt into action. If you’d learnt anything in this school, then it was that you had to take what you wanted because nobody would just hand it to you.

So, against better judgement, you closed the gap between the two of you.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise but a simple kiss from Vil was overwhelming; it was entirely too much and then again not nearly enough. If you had to find just one word to describe it, it would be intoxicating. He might be the death of you but you couldn’t care less.

Even after such a short contact, pulling away wasn’t easy. Especially because you didn’t get far before a hand at the back of your neck held you in place. Your eyes flew open to see the challenge and amusement written in his lilac ones. Not that you minded per se.

In the end, you were positively stolen of your breath whereas Vil looked as dazzling as ever, except for the slight smudge of lipstick in the corner of his lips. In your opinion it only added to his charm though.

When you had sorted your thoughts again, your tone was slightly accusatory. “You did that on purpose.”

“Whatever do you mean?” His infuriatingly handsome smirk looked just a tad too smug for him to play coy. “May I remind you that you are the one who kissed me?”

“You weren’t even surprised!” You bristled at his act. “You knew, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did. I can read you like an open book, sweet potato. I just wanted to test if you’d be daring enough. Seems as though you’ve passed.” Reaching out a perfectly manicured hand, Vil wiped the stains under your bottom lip with his thumb while his gaze was trained on how your mouth parted at the movement.

“Hmm, it seems I need to do this again...”

IDIA SHROUD

Standing in front of Idia’s room, you firmly knocked on the door in a very specific rhythm to let him know it was you. Otherwise, there was a rather slim chance the housewarden would even open it. But luckily for you, you were one of the only people who were granted access to his abode.

After grumbling a greeting, Idia widened the crack of his door just enough for you to slip through. The two of you might be friends but that still didn’t mean he was suddenly a ray of sunshine, especially when it came to social interaction. As you adjusted to the artificial blue light, you were already prepared to be tackled by a certain blue-haired boy but the anticipated weight never came.

“Huh? Is Ortho not here today?” you wondered.

“Ah no, uh… Ortho’s out running errands,” Idia mumbled, shifting from one foot to the other. “You’re probably disappointed now, right? It’s like seeing your bias is not at a fanmeet…”

“No, not at all! I was just noticing it. You’re the reason I’m here.” Winking at him, you were already grinning at his reaction for what you were about to say. “I’m Idia-biased after all.”

And he didn’t fail you. Instantly, his eyes widened and you could practically see him blue screen behind his golden irises. Meanwhile, the ends of his long hair tinged pink as he tried to hide himself by tugging the drawstrings of his hoodie tighter. “HUH?! I- You- What– You can’t just drop SSR dialogue like that on me…”

“Why not? It’s the truth and you’re supposed to tell the truth, no?” You tilted your head to the side expectedly.

“What’s with you and your ability to turn a supposed buff into a massive debuff?” Idia shook his head miserably.

“Come on, I’m just teasing you. Although you are my fave, that part’s not a lie.” Nudging him back into the realm of the living as you pass, you plopped down on one of the gaming chairs in front of his PC. When had you asked him why he had two, he’d said that one was for Ortho, yet it was perfectly adjusted to your height. You just pretended he had fooled you though and didn’t comment on it further. “So, what’s on the agenda for today?”

“Uhm, that show we’ve been watching released a new episode today, so maybe we can catch up on that…” At your approval, he started setting everything up as you watched his fingers fly over the keyboard with such practised ease it amazed you every time. “You still remember the plot, right?”

“Of course, who do you take me for,” you playfully accused him. “The protagonist basically gets isekai’d to a mmorpg-like world and would die almost every two seconds if it weren’t for the cooler side characters.”

“Ya, cut him some slack. Everyone else grew up there while he’s a total noob.”

“Trust me, I know the feeling,” you deadpanned. “But even you have to admit his decisions are questionably stupid.”

Idia just looked at you as if you had grown a second head. “Is the outside perspective making you realise something or what?”

“HEY! I can go three minutes without being an orc’s breakfast.”

“Only because there’s no orcs on Sage’s Island,” he taunted with a grin, showing you his sharp teeth. In return you gasped in faux indignance before dissolving in a fit of giggles.

“Just imagine there’d be a show like this about NRC…” You tapped your finger against your chin. “I wonder what kind of tropes everyone would fall into. Like, Kalim and Jamil are your classic deredere and tsundere duo.”

“Riddle is the type of crazy skilled character you wouldn’t consider at first. But then he saves everyone by casting some seriously dangerous magic or something,” Idia sniggered.

“Meanwhile Malleus is the impossibly powerful, show-breaking character who is always conveniently absent when there’s a problem to be solved,” you sighed. Turning in your seat, you leaned your head against the back of the chair. “Say Idia, what kind of character am I?”

He tried to suppress his tiny squeak at the drop of your voice. To be honest, you had never been shy about showing your affection for the housewarden but you had come to the realisation he just wouldn't catch on, no matter how many hints you threw his way. Or rather, he’d convince himself you couldn’t possibly mean any of it.

“Y-You? Uh I guess, you always jump in to save the day no matter the risks, so you’d probably be some sort of knight in shining armour type. But with a serious case of ‘chosen one syndrome’,” he mumbled. “Seriously, only crazy people would play hard mode with those gimmicky stats of yours.”

“Aww, really?” you cooed before preparing yourself to strike. “What if I want to be the love interest though?”

By the look in Idia’s eyes it was a critical hit.

“Lo-Love interest? You can be both I think… I mean there’s a lot of people you’re close to…,” the poor guy stammered. Seriously, how could one person be so smart yet so dense at the same time? But fine. If you needed to spell it out for him, so be it.

Getting up, you slowly came to stand in front of his chair and propped your hands on the arm rests. You almost felt bad for him with how he was staring at you like a deer caught in headlights; Idia looked as if his life was flashing in front of his eyes. But you’ve had enough of your little cat and mouse game, it was time for the chase to come to an end.

“I was talking about your story. I want to be the love interest in your story, Idia. Hmm, how am I going to get that thought through your thick skull, I wonder…” You pretended to think about it for a moment before giving him a cheshire grin. “Ah, I think I have an idea.”

By now Idia’s hair was bright pink, matching the colour of his face, and he was radiating heat like a fireplace. As much as you wanted to see his reaction to a kiss on the lips, you were afraid it would actually kill him and you didn’t want this experience to end in giving him CPR.

So you settled for a sweet but lingering kiss to his forehead. Just as expected, his skin was warm to the touch and you felt him relax after the initial tense up. Maybe it were your own rose-red glasses but as you pulled away to cup his cheeks you could swear little hearts were flickering at the end of his hair. “Pardon the straightforwardness but I really needed to get my point across.”

“Wait, so you like me?!” Apparently his brain had kicked back into action at this point.

“I have for a while now,” you laughed, “but thanks for noticing.”

“So you were serious when you got me roses? And chocolate? And said I was your favourite?” The incredible tone of his voice was simultaneously endearing and heartbreaking. How could he not notice how amazing he actually was?

“I told you, it’s the truth,” you smiled. “So how about it? Can I be your love interest? Or is my affection already high enough to clear your route?”

“Woah you’re like straight out of an otome game,” he breathed. “Is this the super secret ending you have to play flawlessly for?”

“Oh come on, Idia,” you shot him another wink, paired with a teasing smirk, “You don’t really think this is the end, do you? If anything, it’s only the beginning."

if you want to be notified whenever i post for twisted wonderland (or in general), send an ask to be added to my taglist! ♡

2K notes · View notes

fenrysmoonbeamswife · 2 months ago

Text

I posted this in a reblog already but I feel like it needs its own post

The original post was about how people say that "Rhys didn't touch her below the waist" isn't a sound argument that he didn't SA Feyre because he showed he can manipulate the paint so that isn't proof that he didn't touch her.

I agree and my thoughts on it are also, even if he truly didn't go below her hips he still

• forced her to drink fairy wine (essentially drugging her due to the effects it has on humans) when she explicitly said no and pushed him away multiple times

• dressed her in pretty much nothing and paraded her around naked in front of everyone for absolutely no reason

– Please keep in mind when people make pretty fanart of this scene, they have to censor it for social media and they're romanticizing it. It isn't accurate. This was not romantic or girl boss, Feyre was essentially naked and it traumatized her

• had her dance naked on him in front of everyone for absolutely no reason—to the point that she vomited and he *checks notes* made her keep going

• forcibly kissed her

• spied on her through the tattoo he forced on her

And he still touched her. There are a lot of places you can touch someone above their hips/waist and if they don't want it, it's assault. And in this specific scenario, with these other instances of assault/abuse, it was sexual assault. It's not a debate.

Feyre had immense trauma from what he did to her and she even tries to bring it up but he makes it all about him (ironic that his fans do the same).

You Rhysand stans have a freak attack when someone tries to debate or invalidate Rhysand's SA (which is valid, so why is it okay to debate Feyre's when it is written right there on the page for you? If you genuinely and truly believe that Rhysand did not SA Feyre then I beg of you to check your internalized misogyny (and your literacy) because the "logic" you're using is the exact same logic that people who say Amarantha didn't SA Rhysand are using.

And if you can't even handle comprehending what happened UTM when it's spelled out for you then prepare yourself for this one:

Rhysand SA'd Feyre when they had unprotected sex because he knew the risks and she didn't

Oh and every time he has sex with her to shut her up/get his way is manipulation and is absolutely in the SA grey area because it's part of his emotional abuse towards her

#anti rhysand #anti inner circle #anti feysand #feyre deserves better #feyre archeron #acotar critical

57 notes · View notes

wardensantoineandevka · 1 year ago

Text

So, there's a possibility that Fjord will be at least warlock 13 for the live show. Which means: 7th level Mystic Arcanum! There is not an abundance of options to choose from, but I'm curious what people would choose for him. Here's a poll about it. Tell me why your choice in the tags if you're so inclined? Brief summaries of what each spell's effects are at the end if you're not familiar with them.

I personally think he should take Crown of Stars because it's really pretty, thematically vibes with the Star Razor, and also because I like the spell a lot. Forcecage is my next favorite choice because that sort of spatial control seems like the right vibe and the concept of the time out box is so funny. I also like Etherealness and Plane Shift. The clerics do have Plane Shift, but I think it'd be funny if he used it exclusively like Banishment+.

Crown of Stars - Seven motes of light orbit the caster's head for one hour. The caster can use a bonus action to expend a mote and make a ranged spell attack against a creature or object within 120 feet. A successful hit does 4d12 radiant damage. The spell ends early when all motes are expended. Four or more motes sheds bright light to 30 feet and dim light to an additional 30; three or fewer sheds dim light to 30 feet. Action to cast, no concentration.

Dream of the Blue Veil - The caster and up to eight willing creatures fall asleep for six hours and experience visions of another world on the Material Plane. This world is of a magic item that originated from the world that is in the caster's possession or the origin of one of the affected creatures. The caster must be aware of the world's existence. If the spell reaches the full six hours, the caster and creatures still under the spell are transported to that world. The spell ends early on a creature if the creature takes any damage. If the caster takes damage, the spell ends for all creatures. Ten minutes to cast, no concentration.

Etherealness - The caster enters the Border Ethereal. While in the Border Ethereal, they may move in any direction, though moving vertically costs an extra foot of movement. The caster sees and hears the plane they originated from, though everything is gray and vision is limited to 60 feet. They cannot affect anything on the original plane, nor can anything there see or affect them without special means to do so. The spell lasts for 8 hours or until the caster uses an action to dismiss the spell. When the spell ends, the caster appears in the plane they left in the spot they currently occupy. Action to cast, no concentration.

Finger of Death - A creature within 60 feet takes 7d8 + 30 necrotic damage on a failed Constitution save and half that on a success. A humanoid is killed by this spell is raised at the start of the caster's next turn as a zombie permanently under their command. Action to cast, no concentration.

Forcecage - The caster created an immobile, invisible, cube-shaped prison of magical force around an area within 100 feet. It lasts for one hour. The prison can be a cage with bars up to 20 feet on a side or a box with solid walls preventing everything (including spells) from pass through up to 10 feet on a side. Imprisoned creatures cannot leave by nonmagical means and must succeed on a Charisma save to teleport out. The cage extends into the Ethereal Plane. Action to cast, no concentration.

Plane Shift - The caster and eight willing creatures are teleported to a different plane of existence. The caster may also make a melee spell attack against one unwilling creature in their reach; upon a hit, the creature makes a Charisma save and upon a failure is teleported to plane of existence of the caster's choosing. Action to cast, no concentration.

Power Word Pain - The caster chooses a target within 60 feet. If the target has 100 of fewer, it is subject to intense pain. The target's speed cannot be higher than 10 feet, has disadvantage on attack rolls, ability checks, and saves that are not Constitution saves, and must first succeed on a Constitution save to cast a spell or the casting fails and the spell is wasted. Action to cast, no concentration.

#Critical Role #Critical Role things #Fjord #Fjord CR #Fjord Stone

179 notes · View notes

blackjackkent · 15 days ago

Text

Off to the temple of Bhaal!

XD Jaheira is so tired of walking around with sewer muck on her boots. :P

"Use a round street hatch to enter the City Sewers," says the map found on Sarevok's body. "Proceed northwest to find your way into the Undercity Ruins."

Minus a few run-ins with lingering greaseballs, this turns out to be pretty easy instructions to follow.

The circle of blood splatters seems like a good sign, as does all the corpses hanging from the ceiling.

I noticed something here that I didn't notice before, which is that there is one (1) cranium rat hanging around in the corridor outside the temple.

It's just vibing and doesn't really do anything, and it doesn't require Speak With Animals to talk to; interacting with it causes the Absolute's voice to suddenly emerge from it:

Creepy.

Other things in this area, some of which I didn't notice last time:

A weird fragment of a poem, titled "Grimlark Verse 2":

A merchant named "Voiceless Penitent Bareki" who says nothing but sells really nice armor for Jaheira that improves her wildshapes and a nice Rage Helmet(tm) for Minsc:

A side passageway full of dead people:

Which leads to a room I completely missed on my first playthrough, full of treasure chests:

I was briefly surprised that the chests didn't appear to be trapped, but apparently they were just not trapped in a way that could be Perception Checked, because as soon as Rakha went to open one, everyone got hit with something called "Spell Rot" which is pretty gnarly:

And an assload of zombies appeared to join the fun:

Oops.

The combatants here are several Greater Zombies, several Ancient Servants (mummies), and a handful (har har) of "Crawling Claws" which are basically Thing from the Addams Family:

I learned that Minsc's new helmet does psychic damage in an explosion radius around him when he rages, bc I turned on his Frenzy and three of these melted instantly.

The Spell Rot curse isn't nearly as scary as I thought it was because it does damage per spell level, which means that cantrips (including Rakha's Fire Bolt and Wyll's Eldritch Blast) don't trigger the effect. So it didn't hamstring the party as bad as I was worried it would.

This was more an irritating fight due to the number of combatants than a challenging one. Honestly I'm just always excited to find new things I haven't run across before in this game. :P

The spell rot apparently can't be cured; it comes back after a turn or so after Remove Curse is used. (Jaheira, though, is completely immune to it because of Khalid's amulet, which I choose to find adorable.)

Luckily once the battle's done there's not any cause for spells and we can check out our sick loot for all this trouble, which turned out to be a solid thousand gold, along with a Pike +2 that no one in the party wants to use.

Perhaps more interesting were two documents sitting on a broken pillar near the back of this room. The first, titled "Immortality (Practically)":

And the other, titled "I shall ascend with him":

Huh. Not at all sure what's going on here. This feels like a reference I should be picking up on but I'm not sure what it is.

Jaheira also detected a hidden door in the stone wall nearby:

Wyll was able to smash it open pretty easily, and then commented, "A death ritual, I wager. Necromancers love that sort of thing."

Inside the room is a tableau guaranteed to get the beast in Rakha's head growling like crazy:

Aha! I think maybe I know what was up with that message about the High Priest:

Interesting. IDK exactly what, if anything, Rakha is going to think about Mystic Carrion when we finally get to him; we'll leave this here for now. But good to know it's around. His liver is also in a nearby chest, along with some poisons and more gold. This note's on a table against the wall:

Holy shit. Is THAT what Mystic Carrion is? Sheesh.

Rakha and I have very different ideas of poetry.

#bjk plays bg3 durge #rakha the dark urge #well that was a fun little side jaunt i did not expect

7 notes · View notes

castielmydarling · 1 year ago

Text

Suptober 2023-Day 4: Nimbus

I Can See You-850 words on AO3 or below. Summary: Dean is hit with a spell to see what's in front of him

“Dean!” Cas shouts running to where Dean has collapsed.

Sam approaches the witch, gun drawn. “What did you do?” he yells.

“Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!” she pleads. “He’s fine. It’s just a simple spell so he can see what’s in front of him, so he can see that I’m good, I’m not a threat. Not all witches are evil. You know that better than anyone.” She cautiously gestures at Sam. “I can see the magic coming off you. I tried telling him it wasn’t me but he wouldn’t listen!” She says angry. “So, I did the only thing I could think of to show him I wasn’t evil. I’m not lying. I didn't kill those people!” She yells frustrated. Fucking hunters.

Cas helps Dean up. “Are you ok?” He asks, worried.

Dean rubs his head. “Yeah no thanks to this bitch.” He says. When he looks at her he sees it. A shimmering light surrounds her, almost like she’s walking through fairy dust. A quick glance at Sam reveals the same, not as much or as bright as her, but it's there.

“Well?” Sam lowers his weapon a degree but he’s ready to take the shot at Dean’s word.

“Yeah, yeah. Your auras match. She’s telling the truth.” He grunts.

The witch breathes a sigh of relief. “It’s not actually our auras you’re seeing…” she starts before Dean cuts her off.

“I don’t give a fuck what it is!” he yells exasperated. “Sam, get her out of here. Find out what she knows.”

Sam puts his gun away. “So what is he seeing?” he asks as he walks her away. Dean might not care but he’s interested in what kind of energy he’s giving off.

Cas is still holding on to Dean worried. “Are you sure you’re ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, just feel a little sore. Her so-called simple spell really knocked me out.” He looks at Cas for the first time since being hit, he takes a step back. “Woah.”

Beautiful white light shimmers and glows around Castiel. A halo of intensely bright light is concentrated above him. It almost hurts to look at him but Dean doesn't want to look away. Like a moth to a flame he reaches out to touch, afraid and excited at the same time.

“Dean?”

“Do you always look like this?” He says in awe.

Cas looks down at the same outfit he’s worn pretty much the entire time he’s known Dean. “Since I first took Jimmy Novak as a vessel, yes. There have been a few wardrobe changes, this coat is not the original nor is the tie. And I suppose this body shows typical signs of aging due to my inconsistent levels of grace.”

Dean laughs. “No. I mean the light that’s around you.” He says, mesmerized. “Your halo, it’s…it’s so beautiful.” He finally reaches up to touch it. He can see his hand go through it but he can’t feel anything.

Cas rolls his eyes. The spell. He remembers now what the witch said. Show him what’s right in front of him.

“Yes, Dean, I always look like this. And it’s not a halo. You must be seeing some residual side effects of my true form contained in a vessel on this plane. The spell must be bringing it to light, so to speak. It's temporary, I assure you.”

“But I like it.” Dean pouts. He waves his hand through the halo again. “Can you feel that?”

Cas laughs. “ No. I wasn’t even aware this was happening. It’s just particles, like fairy dust. It’s not a part of me.”

“I don’t know” Dean can’t stop touching the halo even though he can’t actually feel anything. “This halo seems pretty Angel-like to me. A ring around an angel's head? That’s a halo.” He takes a step back to look at Cas and the area around him.

“Now what?” Cas asks amused.

“I’m looking for your harp.” He steps closer to lift up the trench coat.

“Dean, for the last time I don’t have a harp.” He says laughing. “I do not know how to play any musical instrument.”

“I don’t know, you keep insisting your halo isn’t a halo so I thought you might be lying about the harp.” He teases.

He brings Cas in, kissing him deeply. His eyes are closed but he can see the light getting brighter. The kiss even feels different.

“How long do you think the spell will last?” He says breathless.

“I don’t know.” Cas replies. “While she said it was a simple spell it must be pretty powerful if you can see my essence. I would say at least a day. Why?”

“Good. Let’s get back to our room. I want to see what else you’re hiding underneath all these layers.” He says grabbing the coat and suit jacket. Not even getting to the dress shirt or undershirt Cas is wearing. He really does wear too many clothes for his own good. He pulls Cas along toward the Impala, forever grateful they now book two rooms when they hunt.

“Seriously, Dean. There is no harp.”

#suptober23 #destiel fic #destiel #castiel #dean winchester

68 notes · View notes

mellaga-karagani · 7 months ago

Note

AAAAH I saw a prompt and I'm here in your ask box!

For Nandu from Athadu:

"I'm scared of the things I would do for you, but I also hate the idea of anyone else having you."

(lots of love 💖)

Ahhh omg wait did you think I could actually write!?!? I swear I can't write for shit bro, some of the beautiful humans that I know can write and do what they do pretty damn impressively well are @allari-ammayi, @vijayasena, @mahi-wayy. But since ily sm and I have nothing better to do, I'm willing to give it a go! (Also ignore any spelling mistakes, typos or just how generally bad it is, I wrote it in like an hour lol)

❝I'm scared of the things I would do for you, but I also hate the idea of anyone else having you.❞

Nandu, or rather Pardhu, now that he had become a part of this family who had no idea what happened to their real Pardhu, hated the sight of you.

He hated the way you looked, he hated the way you spoke, he hated the way your eyes sparkled whenever you talked to him, and the thing he hated most of all was that he didn't even hate you at all.

He hated the way you made him feel. He hated that whenever you were around him, he felt things he hadn’t felt in years.

Every word you spoke made him feel warm on the inside, every light touch of yours that accidentally grazed over him felt like it melted the ice on his skin. He wanted to hate you. He wanted his soul to shrivel up with disgust at the mere sight of you because he was scared. Scared that if he fell down the rabbit hole, there would be no return.

Nandu has thoughts when he’s alone. Thoughts that scare him. Thoughts that tell him to tell you that he loves you. Thoughts that tell him if you say no–! Nandu smacked himself on his cheek lightly, dreading what the dark part of his mind would tell him to do if you said no.

He didn’t know how or even why, but the longer he was near you, the more often these thoughts came, sometimes even while you were talking to him.

The thoughts were endless. What if you said no? What would he do then? Would he take you away? Away from your family to have you all to himself?

Had he had this same thought before he met you, Nandu wouldn’t have hesitated to get it done, but that was the worst part. You made him a better person, and now, whenever Nandu thinks about the things he would do for you, a feeling of terror washes over him. So he tried to hate you.

And you, much to his horror, understood that he ‘hated’ you. You understood the way he left when you were around, the way he wouldn’t reply to you if you greeted him, or the way he dodged every chance to be in the same area as you.

Being the sweet and understanding girl you were, part of the reason he hopelessly fell for you, you distanced yourself from him, not wanting to discomfort him.

Nandu didn’t know whether to be happy about this or not. His brain, the more logical part at least, told him this was good. Now he could forget you a lot easier. But his heart – ooh, his heart.

The more you distanced yourself from him, the more other men started approaching you. Coming up to you, talking so casually, making you smile so easily.

Nandu hadn’t realised until you distanced yourself from him the effect he seemed to have had on the men around you.

The dangerous looks he gave to men who spoke to you, the extra hard handshakes he would give to the ones who you introduced him to, Nandu never even realised he did any of this stuff.

It all just came out naturally. And now that Nandu wasn’t as close to you, more guys, hoping to be potential suitors approached you.

Each of your interactions with other men acted like a boulder, pushing Nandu closer and closer to the edge of the cliff, and it shivered Nandu to the bone when he thought about what could happen if the boulder fell off the edge.

This feeling – seeing you with other men – was worse than those thoughts.

❝I'm scared of the things I would do for you, but I also hate the idea of anyone else having you.❞

☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆

Taglist: @allari-ammayi , @vellipo-mellaga , @vijayasena , @lite-teesko, @toomanyfanficsbruh , @voidsteffy (Please reply if you wish to be part of future taglists!)

Note: Requests are open, I write mostly for Telugu and Tamizh characters, but I also accept general Indian!!

15 notes · View notes

vigilskeep · 1 year ago

Text

quick tactics advice (i wrote this caption before i remembered how long my paragraphs get) from someone slowly figuring out dao! this might not work for everybody but i’m doing pretty well with it

i turn off all my player character’s tactics. i don’t want her to do anything and waste stamina/mana or move out of place while i’m popping over to micromanage someone else

i set archers & mages’ behaviour to ranged and leave everyone else on default. i could probably be doing something more interesting here but this works

sword & board warriors like alistair are pretty simple to run. shield bash and shield pummel both set to enemy: nearest visible. i have him activate threaten constantly and i have taunt set to “self: health >= 75%” which makes sure he keeps enough attention off the rest. you want to place taunt below shield bash and shield pummel in his tactics bc those are the priority. and then whenever his health is below 75% i have him put on shield defence, or shield wall instead once that’s unlocked. those reduce damage but damage isn't what he’s for. sometimes i also have him set to attack any enemy attacking the weakest ranged companion, that depends on ur party setup

templar activated talents i would handle manually. berserkers absolutely must be set to berserk whenever combat starts

when it comes to healers, a trick i figured out recently is for their top tactic to be regeneration set to "ally: lowest health". it’s a fairly cheap spell, mana wise, and it means whoever’s doing bad is constantly getting a big helping hand. can't express enough how helpful this is. they do keep doing it constantly even out of combat which some people might find annoying but u can always turn it off whenever u r just walking around if it bothers u

otherwise the main things i have my healer doing are the heal spell on anyone under 50% and a glyph of warding just set to any ally being melee attacked. spirit healer spells are great but all have a bitch of a cooldown so i would handle those manually. i have my healer set to run death magic if she goes under 50% right now but no constant sustained mode, everything even offensive spells is a waste compared to keeping up constant heal and regen spells. the occasional elemental spell can work in a tight spot but you want to be sparing and do that manually. ur healer should be attracting no attention at all from enemies

for more of a damager mage, set winter's grasp or lightning as the lowest tactic so that's their standard behaviour if they have nothing else to do. i have a weapon mode sustained constantly (self: any), frost, flaming or telekinetic weapons will do, i believe morrigan comes with frost. otherwise damagers are going to attract more attention so run something defensive like mind blast on 'self: surrounded by at least two enemies', set drain life for if their health goes down, and generally remember to keep an eye on killing anything that touches them. do not set cones (cone of cold, flame blast) on tactics; it requires moving in from their ranged position and getting the right angle to avoid hitting the party, so handle that manually, but remember to do it and often because they're great. area of effect stuff you CAN do on tactics but considering there's friendly fire if you play above easy and just generally it requires an awareness of what's happening, i would handle that manually as well. the same for spells like forcefield that are adaptable and strategic (use it if you want to keep a particular enemy out of the fight until you're done with the rest, if an ally has been crushing prisoned or curse of mortalityed, if your warrior is dying and unsalvageable but could still keep attention off others if there to be pointlessly attacked, etc.)

remember to keep an eye on the resistances of whatever you're mainly fighting e.g. winter's grasp cone of cold and frost weapons are great spells cold is a great tree but if you set them for a place full of walking corpses you will die

i honestly do not find archer activated abilities that helpful at all with a party beside you especially for how fucking LONG they take. i would much rather have leliana constantly firing than trying to do what a mage could do in half the time. instead set multiple sustained modes to always run (self: any). right now i have leliana running rapid shot, song of courage and suppressing fire. you can't run rapid shot and aim simultaneously and i find rapid shot more useful. dirty fighting is too fucking good to waste so i also have that on for if she gets melee attacked or, since she should really be out of range for that nonsense, i switch to her occasionally to dart in and stun someone manually

take my two-handed warrior advice with a grain of salt bc mine die on me frankly but i think that's an attributes problem. i recommend constant indomitable and powerful swings. mighty blow and sunder arms are great generally just do whatever tactic keeps those coming. i would hold off on pommel strike and use that manually whenever u really need to interrupt what an enemy's doing or are dying and really need some breathing space

i do not know how to do dual wielding rogues yet god bless. or hexes. i can't help you

#long post #interested to hear opinions on this setup but frankly im killing it like this.

91 notes · View notes

utilitycaster · 1 year ago

Note

What is your favorite build for any of the cr pcs?

Fjord. I think I've answered a few similar questions recently, so I thought I'd elaborate here on what I'm taking into account specifically when it comes to PC build!

The following all works in concert in a good build - in fact "cohesiveness" is part of the consideration - so it's not like, a discrete point-based system or anything, but I've tried to break it down for ease of understanding.

Is it a build that requires a lot of player skill to craft/customize? This doesn't mean that a very straightforward build can't be good, but if we're talking mechanics, a character like (for example) Caduceus is both a very good build, but doesn't demonstrate a ton of build choices. He has a strong subclass and some good proficiency choices given the party composition, but there's no need for spell choice (prepped caster), no multiclassing, and generally very little that's modular. This is going to be true of basically all the clerics and druids we have - they're powerful classes, but the main decisions made by the player are just day-to-day spell prep. There needs to be modular choice with long-standing consequences for me to actually get intrigued by the build: this means casters who are not prep-based (ie, those for whom spell list matters); multiclasses; and classes or subclasses with lots of ongoing choice involved (eg: warlock invocations; battlemaster maneuvers). So this rules out a lot of characters. (Feats are modular for everyone, but they're infrequent and also ASIs are really valuable and I am in favor of them; they are taken into account here but they're the cherry on the sundae, not the ice cream itself.)

Are the mechanics good: part 1: optimization. Are you good at things? What are you optimized for? As my url indicates I do prefer versatility/support casting capability, but I'm open to being optimized for something more specific. However, in that case...

Are the mechanics good: part 2: party comp. This is tough in Critical Role in that their sessions zero are more screen tests than a consideration of party composition, which is one of the things I associate heavily with a session zero. As such this is about how the character evolves once the gaps within the party are revealed. But there's more to a character than min-maxing themselves or rounding out the party, which brings us to...

Are the mechanics good: part 3: integration with character. Are the build choices being made because of the character arc? Is this narratively earned? Does it tell us something about who that character is?

And so: Fjord is a very modular build (spell choice, invocation choice, multiclass, weapon/fighting style). He is strong on pretty much every possible combat/utility ability with the exception of area of effect, which in a party with a wizard, two clerics, and an arcane trickster isn't terribly important: he serves as a tank; he serves as a capable backup healer; he is an impressive damage-dealer with a wide range of damage types available to him and who is equally capable in melee and at significant distances; and he has multiple short-range teleportation options and the mobile feat making it very easy for him to get around the battlefield. His charisma-based skills are important in a party with relatively low charisma. Hexadin is one of the rare good multiclasses for warlock and actively addresses his comparably low physical stats and is extremely narratively earned in-game. His classes, subclasses, and invocations are strongly worn into his character, thematically, and are extremely useful, and his spell choice was something Travis actively picked and revised during the campaign.

#answered #Anonymous #cr tag #fjord stone #d&d mechanics

62 notes · View notes

kayawolfhorse · 1 year ago

Text

Supermoon – Chapter Three | Read on Ao3

Previous / Next

— ☾ —

The second day of traveling is quieter than the first.

Everyone had awoken at dawn in noticeably grimmer spirits. Tents were deconstructed and stowed away in inventories, breakfast was eaten, and horses were cared for and tacked up all with almost mechanical efficiency. There was light banter here and there, but the serious atmosphere weighed down upon everyone.

Grian checks the communicator on his wrist for their current coordinates, as the forest around them transitions from dark oak to birch. If his math is correct, they’re far enough away now from the second portal to begin searching for their destination. The thought sends a chill down his spine as he reaches for the first eye.

Grian calls for the group to slow as he steadies his arm, preparing to throw. Under the expectant gazes of his friends, Grian tosses the eye of ender in front of him, and it catches itself midair, floating upwards and swerving to the side. Grian glances towards the sun to calculate the eye’s position. Further north it is, then. They can’t be more than a thousand blocks away.

An unlucky throw; the eye breaks midair. With nothing left to linger for, Grian urges his horse forward.

Dread tugs at his stomach, and it only grows as Grian glances around the haggard faces of the Boatem crew. Though nobody has said it directly, he knows no one has gotten a restful sleep the night before. Grian thinks of his own terrible dreams and hopes none of the others had suffered the same.

Could the Watchers see them? Grian put an illusion over everyone before they left, making it seem like they were all still back at their bases, but all that smoke and mirrors stuff has never been his strong suit. If it has failed, he has failed, and they will lose the crucial element of surprise.

He may not be good at illusions, but he knows someone who is.

Grian turns to Scar, who rides next to him. “Hey, Scar, could you help me with something?” Grian may still remember some of his old Watcher tricks after leaving them, but Scar is a vex, far more skilled in misdirection and trickery than Grian suspects even some Watchers are.

After quietly listening to Grian’s explanation, Scar hands his reins over and dismounts, coming to stand in front of everyone. Another round of explaining is given to the other three, and Scar raises his hands, palms pointed upwards.

Scar’s normally green eyes, so vivid they’re akin to emeralds, glow a bright silver-blue. His hair changes to match them, white streaks threading throughout before devouring the brown entirely. Grian glances at Scar’s teeth to find them normal. Not full vex then; just the stage that Scar calls his ‘wizard mode’, allowing him to cast magic.

Small, elegant slivers of magic, so unlike the vex mob’s jagged points of it, dance across Scar’s palms as he turns them out towards the group, and though the slivers dissipate a block or two after leaving Scar’s hand, Grian still feels the effect of them, settling over his shoulders like heavy silk. Looking behind him, Pearl is the only other one that visibly notices the feeling, her antennae twitching slightly.

As Scar finishes his spell, the energy seems to evaporate off of Grian. He stands still for a moment before shaking his head and wringing his hands out, heading back for his horse.

“All set!” Scar confirms, coming to grip his reins once more. “So long as none of you get too far away from me, the spell is in place. I should be able to hold it pretty long with the energy I’ve got.”

“And our Boatem selves?” Grian asks, after giving Scar a grateful nod for his effort.

“Working on our mega bases, of course! Lots of staying in single, confined areas,” Scar says with a wink.

“Good thinking. Now, for the ‘energy that you’ve got’, how much do you actually have?” Vex magic always saps Scar’s energy, to a degree, and though he seems lucid enough as Grian assesses him, there’s sleepiness in Scar’s slightly slowed blinking.

Scar waves a hand dismissively. “I’m a bit tired, but nothing extraordinary. I’m used to it.” Grian believes him, mostly, but resolves to keep an eye on him anyway as they urge their horses into a canter.

If the Watchers can’t see them... Grian tentatively extends his vision beyond his own two eyes, a movement that has always felt like unfolding a spyglass, and is met with nothing. The trees they walk between appear completely uninhabited, save for the mobs of the forest.

Ahead of him, Scar tilts his head slightly, and Grian realizes that he must be able to feel the magic upon his own. “Just me,” he calls out, just loudly enough for Scar to hear.

“I know,” is Scar’s reply, soft enough Grian almost can’t catch it.

When the mountains from Grian’s map start to appear at the horizon, sun directly overhead, he gestures for the group to stop. “It’s close enough now we should be able to walk. Let’s leave the horses here, for safety’s sake,” Grian says, whipping out materials for a temporary fence from his inventory.

“Would we be able to fly?” Impulse asks, clipping a lead to his horse.

“We’ve got to stay in a pretty tight group to keep in range of Scar’s cloak. I’d rather not risk it.” Grian shakes his head. He wishes they could fly. Being on horseback instead of his own two wings for two days has him feeling restless.

Scar pats his mount’s neck. “I’m sure going to miss you, Peanut Butter.” The horse nuzzles his hand, and Scar feeds it a golden carrot.

“You named your horse Peanut Butter?” Grian asks in amusement.

“Well sure! They’re a matching set, you know,” Scar replies.

Impulse laughs before saying, “Ah, I get it. Peanut Butter and Jellie, I like that.”

Scar regales the group with tales of Peanut Butter and Jellie’s supposed friendship as they walk, mostly of the cat sitting aloofly in front of Peanut Butter’s stall and graciously allowing a single curious sniff from the horse before sauntering off to find a better place to lay. Grian’s grateful for the goofiness, amidst it all, and surrounded by the warmth of laughter and the afternoon sun above him, he tosses up the next eye.

— ☾ —

“That’s my last one,” Grian says, watching the fragments of his final eye of ender sparkle and disappear midair. “Does anyone have more ender pearls? I have blaze powder.”

“Yep, I’ve got you.” Impulse hands over a few ender pearls. “We should be getting pretty close anyway, right?”

“Yep,” Grian confirms as he crafts up more eyes of ender. “Just a couple more eyes should do it.”

“Good, because that’s all I’ve got left.”

Mercifully, the second to last eye Grian tosses up shoots downwards, burrowing under the grass beneath Mumbo’s feet.

“Well, looks like we’ve got our spot. Start digging, fellas.” Grian summons a shovel and starts clearing away dirt, Mumbo joining in next to him. Together they carve out a winding staircase, Grian mining the stone and Mumbo placing torches behind him.

“I’m not seeing it,” Grian says, their staircase surely far enough down now.

“Start poking holes?” Mumbo asks, grasping his pickaxe.

Grian’s about to confirm when Impulse shouts, “I’ve got it!” somewhere nearby. Following the sound of his voice, Grian and Mumbo tunnel towards him, and the group reunites atop blocks of stone bricks.

“Are we ready?” Impulse prepares to break through the bricks.

“Only one way to find out!” Pearl mines the block next to her, and after peering down it for a second, drops through it.

“Armor on, everyone,” Grian says, and follows Pearl’s lead down.

It takes Grian’s eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness around them, as he listens for the telltale thump of Mumbo, Scar, and Impulse landing behind him.

His vision brightens, and the view Grian’s met with is spectacular.

The ceiling, high above them, is supported by slender, curving stone arches spaced evenly apart that stretch from the top of the room to the floor of it, torches hung on every one to give the room a dim glow. The builder in him grudgingly admits the beauty to it all, but the arches remind Grian of a ribcage, and he can’t help but feel like the massive room has swallowed him whole.

Between the pillars, lines of unmoving hostile mobs stand in the shadows, and Grian does a double take before realizing that they, like almost everything else in the room, are carved from rock. The surly stone faces of vindicators, illusioners, and witches stare back at him. Grian only hopes there aren’t any real ravagers nearby.

The sight is impressive, but what really cuts deep is the chill, slicing through protective layers and directly piercing bone. Grian shivers without meaning to, and pulls at the jumper beneath his chestplate. He’s never liked the armor—too restricting, despite the flexible leather back to accommodate his wings—but he’s grateful now at least for another layer.

Grian and Mumbo huddle together for warmth as they search for traps, tripwires, anything. There’s no obvious lead to another room, as far as Grian can see. Beyond the difficulty of finding their way deeper into the stronghold, this all feels too straightforward and too still for what Grian would expect of the Watchers.

Scar voices Grian’s thoughts, “I hate to say it, but this feels too easy.”

Just as he gets the last syllable out, the room explodes into movement. The statues crack and burst open, spraying chunks of rock and revealing the mobs they were sculpted after. Witches crackle and pillagers load crossbows, all rushing forward at them, as Grian scrambles for his sword.

Impulse shouts a warning, and Grian whirls just in time to avoid a vindicator’s axe. He catches the edge of the axe with his own blade and shoves it aside, plunging his sword into the vindicator’s chest. From this close, he can make out the mob’s eyes, and with a sharp inhale, Grian realizes its irises are purple.

Grian disposes of the vindicator and runs to help Mumbo, who’s having troubles with a witch. To his right, Pearl holds a sword in one hand and a sickle in the other, slicing at the mobs after her, and behind him, Grian can hear the clang of Scar and Impulse’s weapons.

Swing, dodge, slice, leap back. It’s a stupid amount of mobs after them, and their tactic seems to be to surround and overwhelm each person. One pillager aims for the vulnerable part of Grian’s back, and he swerves, but pays for it with an arrow caught in a wing. Biting back a scream, he keeps going.

They hardly have time to breathe after the wave of mobs is finally dealt with. The few remaining statues lining the walls explode into life. Illusioners, the last mobs to remain encased in stone, hold up their hands, particles billowing above them.

Grian’s vision goes dark, and he blindly, desperately, feels around for something, anything, before it clears moments later. A strangled yelp comes from someone somewhere behind him, and it matches how Grian feels as he stands before an army with his friends’ faces.

— ☾ —

An Impulse thrusts an axe towards him, and Grian doesn’t react quickly enough to prevent it scraping against his chestplate. “Impulse!” Grian shouts, “Impulse!”

“Over here!” comes his friend’s reply, distant amidst the clang of blades and armor between them.

Even with the assurance that the real Impulse is not the one in front of Grian, it hurts to kill the doppelgänger. Grian stabs at Not-Impulse’s side, and his own heart aches with it. Without so much of a jolt, the Not-Impulse disappears, and a Not-Mumbo and Not-Pearl are quick to run up Grian’s flank and take its place, Grian rushing to keep up.

The worst part is the faces. Grian’s never seen such hateful sneers curve his friends’ lips, nor have their actual eyes ever held so much malice. His real friends’ eyes aren’t that terrible, terrible purple. They’re not real, they’re not real, Grian repeats to himself, over and over, as he fights the illusions off, looking for the source.

The illusions even manage to mimic the fighting styles of those they take after, and the Not-Pearl Grian fights now twirls its sword in an upwards arc, and as Grian’s distracted, trying to block it, sweeps a leg under his foot—a move the real Pearl favors when the fight isn’t completely clean.

Mumbo’s illusions place down end crystals. One explosion catches the side of Grian’s arm and it burns, its wake filling the air with thick, concealing smoke that catches in Grian’s chest. Hardly able to see, Grian swings his blade wildly, desperately, and it clangs against the actual Scar’s sword.

“It’s me!” Grian shouts, panicked, and Scar looks as relieved as he feels to see one of his real friends.

They share a nod, and in tandem, Grian and Scar move to protect each other’s back, cutting down the illusions as they come. Another Not-Mumbo places down a crystal, and it’s pure instinct that moves Grian’s hands, shoving Scar away from it and taking most of the blast himself. Grian curses beneath his breath in place of the whimper threatening to escape his throat, and Scar turns and kills the Not-Mumbo who’d placed it with a fury Grian hasn’t seen on him in a long time.

Scar switches to a bow, and one of his arrows finds the illusioner pretending to be Mumbo. Another shot kills the thing, and with its death the Not-Mumbo’s dissolve into nothingness, taking the smoking crystals with them. Moments later, Pearl gets the Not-Impulse illusioner with her sickle, cloak billowing out behind her, letting out a whoop of ferocious victory.

In the center of chaos, Impulse nicks the real Mumbo on the arm, and the distraction unsteadies Mumbo’s movements enough that a Not-Scar—who has now switched to a bow, to mimic the real Scar—is able to get a good aim on him, and releases its arrow. Grian, faster than he thought possible, darts between it and Mumbo with his summoned shield held aloft. The arrow meets wood with a twang, the projectile disappearing seconds later as the real Scar finds and kills his illusioner self.

The Not-Pearl and Not-Grian illusioners are found and disposed of mercifully fast after that, and, sweaty and exhausted, the group is given a real break.

“Nobody move,” Grian whispers between heaving breaths, lest their movement activate another trap. Slowly, carefully, he lowers himself to the floor.

Impulse and Mumbo sit together, Impulse murmuring apologies as he wraps Mumbo’s upper arm in bandages. Mumbo waves it off and hugs him to prove there are no hard feelings.

Hugs. Grian could use a hug. He turns, and after checking them over for any injuries, gives one to both Scar and Pearl. The solidness that marks their realness is reassuring.

The next couple minutes are spent eating, tending to wounds, and simply leaning against each other. As the adrenaline fades Grian’s side and wing start to ache with a sharp stab, and though the golden apple Impulse hands him helps heal the most of it and his wing entirely, where the explosion had most directly touched his skin still hurts.

The battle they’d just faced is burned into the back of Grian’s eyelids, and every time he blinks he sees flashes of himself, hurting his friends—not his friends, he reminds himself sternly—over and over.

Grian tried to coax his brain into not running endless loops of things he doesn’t want to think about. He’s drowning in the misery.

It doesn’t work. Grian’s grateful, desperate for distraction, when Scar takes a breath, as if he is about to speak.

“I’m sorry, I think we made that fight harder by being here.” Scar slumps against Pearl before jolting upright, attempting to shake the exhaustion from his face. It still shines through the cracks, in the worried lines on his forehead and crinkle of his eyes.

“Actually, I don’t think we could’ve made it without the extra help. There were five statues when we came in—we would’ve still had to fight them,” Pearl points out, and nudges Scar with her shoulder.

“Would they have just mimicked whoever came through here?” Mumbo asks, looking inquisitive in the same way he might looking at a complex redstone problem.

Pearl shrugs. “It’s possible, I guess. Maybe Grian and I would’ve just had to fight multiple versions of ourselves.”

Grian shudders. “Let’s all be glad we didn’t. Just one of each of us both is enough.” Pearl snorts, and everyone else is quick to follow with quiet, tired chuckles.

“Well! What do you say we get a move on?” Scar says brightly, after a few moments of resting.

“Um... I’m not sure where we can get a move on to.” Grian looks around the room. The stone walls are smooth and solid, and there are no indications of any rooms beyond this one.

After testing that movement won’t trigger another trap, the next task is to find a way to the next room that Grian’s sure exists—it would be stupid to have all this set up and nothing else, right?

Thankfully, it doesn’t take long, and Scar finds a trapdoor that Pearl confirms must’ve been under one of the statues.

The hole is dark, with a single long, wooden ladder mounted against one wall and a dim glow at the base. Pearl and Impulse climb down first, as arguably the best fighters among them, and Grian can just barely make out the displeasure on their faces as they reach the bottom and glance up to give everyone the okay to follow them down.

“Well.” Mumbo peers down the long, narrow corridor filled with lava ten blocks down, bits of broken floor sporadically dotted at the same level as their feet across it. “You reckon we could just build across?”

“I do enjoy completely disregarding stupid rules!” Grian moves to pull out a stack of cobblestone from his inventory. He attempts to place it down, and frowns. He tries again. No luck. The cobble will not leave his hand.

A pang of dread stabs at Grian’s gut. “Fellas, I don’t know what sort of magic they’ve managed to put here, but I think we’re essentially in adventure mode.”

Adventure mode is rare, used on servers and maps the admins wish to keep untouched. The Hermitcraft server should most certainly not be in it.

Pearl swings her pickaxe at the closest wall experimentally. The stone doesn’t so much as crack. “Well, that’s frustrating. And the hallway’s too narrow for flight.” She attempts to spread her wings only for the wall to stop her, proving her point.

“You think there’d be a lever or something at the end, that would put the floor back in place if someone manages to cross and activate it?- No, the Watchers aren’t that nice, that’d be boring,” Grian interrupts himself with a sigh. “Did anyone pack fire resistance, at least?”

As it turned out, Impulse did have fire resistance potions, but the lava was too low to simply swim to the other side, they quickly deduced.

“Guess we just have to parkour it?” Grian says, scratching the back of his neck. No one looks particularly excited at the prospect.

Just as Impulse is about to leap forward onto the first platform, Mumbo cries out, “Wait!”

It’s too late. Impulse is already midair, and the moment his boot touches down, a pressure plate clicks and the platform is slammed back into the wall. Mumbo and Pearl both lurch forward, making a desperate grab for him, but the distance is too far, and Impulse plunges into the lava below.

“Fire res! Drink the fire res!” Pearl and Grian shout in tandem, and Impulse is just barely able to get the bottle to his lips before slipping under completely.

Seconds later, Impulse bobs back up, and the sigh of relief amidst the adrenaline is shared four ways.

“Do you have any pearls?” Pearl calls down, and Impulse shakes his head. He’d given them all to Grian earlier, and Grian had made them into eyes of ender.

“Could we just throw a rope down? I’ve got a lead,” Mumbo offers.

“Oh, that’s not a bad idea.” Pearl nods, and the lead is cast down to just above the lava. Impulse grabs hold, and the four of them work to haul him up.

Orange particles float off of Impulse as he lays face up on the floor, heaving. The fire resistance had saved his skin, literally, but his clothing hadn’t escaped completely unscathed, bits of char eating at green cargo pants and his black-and-yellow shirt.

“You alright mate?” Pearl helps Impulse sit up and hands him a water bottle. Impulse nods, but mid gesture, he’s cut off by an awful, low groaning sound that reverberates all around them.

“Uh... Guys?” Scar points at the wall behind them, the way they came in. The wall steadily edges forward, stone grinding against stone. Grian looks up. The entrance has already been covered, the ladder broken beneath the moving mass.

“We go now!” Pearl shouts over the noise, taking a running jump at the next closest platform, to the right of the one Impulse triggered. Grian’s yell dies in his throat as Pearl lands, and the floor stays steady beneath her.

“Toss me the ladder!”

At the team’s confused glances, Pearl makes an urgent motion with her hands and raises her brows. Mumbo shrugs, gathers up the broken sticks on the floor, gingerly throwing them to Pearl.

She catches them with a grin, and breaks one of the pieces further. The stick she holds is just long enough to reach the next platform, and as Grian realizes her plan, Pearl leans over and jabs the pressure plate with the ladder piece. The floor holds. She leaps to it.

Grian crosses after Pearl and follows the path she makes, poking the plates as she goes, Mumbo right behind him. On the second to last step, Grian pitches too far forward and almost falls, flapping his wings as far as the walls will let him to no avail. Mumbo grabs his arm just in time, and they make it over.

At the end, Grian turns to watch Impulse and Scar cross together, the latter’s movements wobbly. The moving wall crashes into the platform just behind them, destroying it, and shakes the room.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Grian’s heart pounds in his ears, anxiety gnawing at his stomach. Come on, come on, he silently urges the pair, the rumbling too loud to speak over.

One last push and Scar and Impulse are safe, and together the five sprint for the next room, just as the wall envelops the parkour completely and comes to a halt with a shuddering slam.

Panting, Grian looks away from the group and takes in the room. It’s small, wooden- the only room so far that hasn’t been made out of stone. Two chests sit side by side in the center of the floor. Dread prickles at Grian’s fingertips. He knows what this is.

Wordlessly, before anyone can stop him, Grian steps up, and opens one of the chests.

“Grian, no, it could be a trick!” Impulse surges forward.

Inside the first chest is a brilliant blue, shiny stack of diamonds. Inside the second is two measly pieces of coal.

Grian knows this test. He knows what they want from him.

He takes the coal, leaving the diamonds where they sit. Impulse is unmoving next to him, and for a moment, everything is silent.

Something clicks. Grian’s held flint to steel far too many times to not recognize the sound. The wooden room is on fire, and they are trapped.

(Reblogs do more than likes!)

#they had a nice campfire last chapter now they get to Go Through It #my writing #hermitcraft #grian #pearlescentmoon #goodtimeswithscar #mumbo jumbo #impulsesv #boatem

18 notes · View notes

archivalofsins · 1 year ago

Text

Let's talk about Caligula Effect 2 and Milgram again today~ Though this may not make much sense or be hard to follow. Because still sick so I'm just typing stuff honestly.

I really like Cocoa #QP. She reminds me a lot of Mahiru. I've also finished Doktor's fight. To be fair I might have been a bit over leveled for it. So, he went down pretty easy. Yet, that's not the only reason I'm here.

I'm actually here to discuss how people put themselves and others into boxes and how that's impacted Milgram. This is something discussed over the course of Gin Noto's character story. Mostly showcasing how sometimes not having an exact box to fit into can cause a person emotional distress or to feel alienated.

There's discussion to be had around how labels and boxes are a way for some to foster not only a sense of community but a sense of self. Tangent I feel that this is why Caligula Effect 2 is very hit and miss for me because most of the lessons in it are things I already know. Plus, the narrative can be a bit more on the nose and leading than it was in the first game.

Something that makes a bit of sense consider how the first one was received. However, I tend to like the first games and Milgram's way of letting the audience draw it's own conclusions. Being put in a position where one has to think for themselves, and they only have themselves to blame for the conclusions they've drawn is far more invigorating to me then having everything spelled out for me. All nice and neat.

Yet, even though Caligula Effect 2 is very heavy handed in my opinion and this makes the characters rather grating in certain areas. There were still things that I feel went over a lot of people's head. That I feel Yamanaka is striving to hone in on through Milgram.

That thing being bias and idolization. Because the player is with the Go Home Club and those are the characters who the player gets to know through character episodes the audience leaves Caligula Effect 2 feeling more sympathetic for the Go Home Club members while it's far easier to ostracize and other the musicians.

The Go Home Club members direct parallels. Even easier for one to downplay how the Go Home Club members threat these other people within the narrative because through playing you learn more about these characters and feel as though you have adequate explanations for their behavior and the times they do end up lashing out.

The Go Home Club members end up lashing out a lot. In very unjustified ways where it's clear that they are taking out anger they hold towards themselves and their own personal situations out on the musicians. Hell Kiriko, flat out admits she did this to the second musician we fight. The only redeemable thing in that encounter is the fact that Kiriko and Pandora are doing the same thing in that instance projecting personal issues on the other party.

However, this continues to be a consistent issue the Go Home Club Members have when encountering the musicians moving forward. The most egregious examples of this being Mu-kun and Gin Noto in my opinion because Gin just hates on this guy and trash talks all his dreams when the dude is genuinely curious about why we want to leave.

Something not really fixed in my opinion by the implication that Gin was a fan of their music or them later. Like the treatment Mu-kun faces is so undeserved that the plot literally pulls a Deus Ex Machina to have him forget the last seven days entirely. Because he's still rightfully mad and doesn't give a fuck about Gin's apology after everything that occurred.

Because people don't need to be nice to you after you take all your personal frustrations out on them. Turning this whole ass other person with feelings into an object for you to release your hate and anger out on for a cheap bit of a catharsis is dick behavior and no one has to accept and I'm sorry about that after it's done to them. Just because someone is having a bad time doesn't mean it's okay for them to make someone else's time bad.

Yet, this isn't really something I've heard discussed when it comes to Caligula Effect 2. No one has gone yeah that was a very rude way for them to consistently treat the musicians. In fact I've been streaming it and most of the stream I've been a bit on edge because I've been seeing these assholes do asshole things. Yet, I keep being told there will be something that will excuse it later you'll find out why it was actually okay they treated people like this later.

While every part of me is like yeah I don't think there's much that excuses this behavior. I don't think there's one damn infallible reason to treat another person struggling with their own things the way I've seen these people treat others. While the game is completely showcasing that it is not okay to treat others like this regardless of what you have going on.

Through characters like Sasara, Shota, and literally how most of the group reacts to Gin's behavior in the planetarium with the same distaste and drawing of attention to the change in attitude that was shown towards Mifue's behavior during the Sweet-P incident. Like why are you so mad this isn't like you.

Yet, again because people have grown to know these characters through playing the game benefit of the doubt is immediately extended to them and a us vs them mindset is formed. Giving off this feeling of how could you be sympathizing with the musicians. How could you feel this treatment is out of place? I mean it kind of is but they have their reasons.

Cool what if those reasons don't justify in anyway how they treat others and by extension themselves to me? What if it is my personal belief that regardless of what goes on in someone's life they shouldn't make whipping boys out of themselves and those around them. What if childishly I believe living this way is unhealthy and unproductive? What if it's not excusable to me to deny yourself and those around you happiness simply because you've taught yourself to hate yourself without measure for one reason or another.

What if for as much as I understand where the mentality is coming from I'm at a point where I recognize that is not an excuse for how that mentality impacted others and at points could have done irreversible harm if someone didn't intervene? Which it gets to that point a few times actually.

Well, that's when the bias that Caligula Effect 2 seeks to highlight comes in. This is highlighted first through the glorification and idolizations of the original go home club and μ by X. What can a person defend just because they have a good relationship with someone. Just because they're someone's kid. How willing are they to assume the worst of everyone around them because everybody is someone pulling down the name of their favorite person.

Is enough for them to not care for humans without even knowing much about them? Is it enough for them to break into someone's else's mundane everyday- Dragging that person back to reality because they need the help. Because they need to prove mom didn't cause this and the mean humans need to stop blaming her for everything. How much is it worth to crush someone else's dream? How far are people willing to go to get what they want and does it matter what they do to get there? Do the ends justify the means?

Possessing someone else's body without warning making it so if the one did that were to die that person would die too. None of that matters. Talking all this good shit about people she doesn't even know lauding them on high just because of what mommy told you. The first go home club members were good people- That's a funny thing to just say without any firsthand knowledge. Mommy said so and that's enough? She doesn't even know these heroes that saved the world and showed her mom the error of her ways or what it took to get to that point.

Yet, X created this silly fairy tale of grandeur and good intentions. How childish and gross. I hope she grows up one day~ Then we get to the root of the issue with Doktor-

"I'd care more about one of you being sad than a bunch of humans I barely know."

Ingroup bias. Or basic favoritism. People are more likely to be kinder to those they view as being on their side and do more for those they view as emotionally important. Sound familiar-

"“Throw down”, someone’s value cannot be the same as another. “Throw down” should choose between superiority or inferiority."

This person is more important simply because I will it to be so. I think it therefore it is. I feel that they're more important therefore they are. Of course they had their reason for behaving in this way. I know this person well enough to say it was justified. I know them well enough to know they're good/can be good.

I don't want to questions if they've just been good to me, if they could be wrong, if someone could be a victim to them. Because that would mean I don't know a good person when I see one that would mean I could be bias. That would mean I could forgive something unforgivable if it was just attached to a person I liked- Oh, well that's just Milgram isn't it?

That's just like Milgram except instead of holding your hand to that conclusion Yamanaka is watching you leap towards it willingly this time. Because bias hurts. Bias is inherently unempathetic. Because bias will always create an us against them scenario. A Go Home Club in oppossition to musicians. It's much easier for the human brain to frame those in direct oppossition to them as wrong regardless of how polite they're being about it. Regardless of if they're about to be physically assaulted in front of you. Hell even if they were on your own side but it turns out cutting them down happens to be an easier way to your goal.

It came up in one that we were crushing peoples dreams. That there were people who could only get their happiness in Mobius. That there were possibly hundreds of thousands of people who could not do the things they could do within here in the real world. Without much pause and completely recognizing this was the case the first go home club continued forward with what they wanted. Because the only thing worth crushing another's dreams is a dream of one's own. Fact is if anyone wants to go home they have to come to terms with the fact that the dreams of some of these people are things that are absolutely impossible in reality.

That sort of person would have to constantly spit in the faces of those who may want to stay here to do that. Spit in the faces of the people this world was made for even. Never once discussing how easy it is to face reality when a person has one to go back to at all and never touching on the people who may not. At least as far as I know right now that's not happening but it might. Again in one we talk about this tentatively and the go home club feels bad but ultimately decides to leave because it's what they want to do. However, their is recognition of our own desires conflicting with and ruining the wishes of others.

Because virtual or real the reality is when it comes to the wishes of others someone is always getting the short end of the stick. Because not everyone's wishes can come true. Sometimes one person's wish conflicts with another's. Because of this there can never be a world without regrets. Because sometimes one person's happiness can be another persons misfortune. That can be a regret in itself.

Yet, that doesn't mean we shouldn't strive towards what will make us happy. Just because things are like that doesn't give anyone the right to step on others and end their lives just because they were having such a hard time. That's not fair, that isn't right. Everyone is having a hard time what makes this hard time so different from anyone else's? What makes it forgivable.

The only thing that does is that feeling in people's chest that tells them that they know this person. That there's good in this person that they have their reasons. The reasons they've projected on them, the reasons they can sympathize with, the reasons that make it all make sense in their book. Yet, those reason come at the expense of someone else's good name, someone else's life. It comes at the expense of dehumanizing someone in the worst way making them out to be a problem that needed solving instead of a person that was deserving of the exact same consideration being shown to the people that hurt them.

No one is above bias and that's why sin isn't easy. Milgram shouldn't be easy. It's not meant to be easy. People aren't easy- Relationships not only to individuals but groups aren't easy. Because easy things are painful. Easy things ignore the intricacies of a situation that people are usually suffering under.

Easy puts the fault on individuals instead of systems. Easy says the Go Home Club Members and the Milgram characters had to repond how they did because life was hard on them. They didn't have a choice. Conveniently without ever touching on why life was hard, if it had to be, who made it that way, the services and systems that failed these people over and over. Because why change the way things have always been when one can just put it on the individual to save themselves and choose whether or not that's forgivable or not later. Why think about it any harder when we can wait for a crime to happen and then administer the punishment?

Let's keep it simple. Sure they couldn't hack in their environment but others could so they're the odd ones here. Let's just have the punishment fit the crime and if I can forgive I can forgive. No need to think more deeply of it. That's how this has always worked. That's how Milgram is. It's how people are giving excuses to those they biasely like and having no mercy for those they don't. Be more bias because that's the best way to make it hurt more.

None of this is meant to be easy. Honestly, if it is for anyone then chances are they just haven't thought about it enough. Because bias isn't all fun and games. When a person is bias the only thing that comes from it is pain regardless of how positively or negatively they view someone/something. There are boxes and there are cages bias is a cage that doesn't help anyone.

#gunsli rambles #milgram #caligula effect 2

13 notes · View notes

angstproducer · 11 months ago

Text

Farmer Sans x Witch Nightmare Sans

I got some kind of story head canon thing for Nightmare, I don't know. Still in progress and probably forever will. It's inspired by friefen new 2nd opening song, Haru by Yorushika.

The setting of the world would be modern except witches are normalized in some places while others not. Their magic solely depends what type it is and where it's set in the ranking. Think of a family tree or butterfly effect, there's a main magic and it's split to the sun and moon magic then splits to different kinds then it just keeps on splitting.

Nightmare always envied his twin brother who was born to have a powerful type of magic and was rare to have. Considering Dream's type was Sun magic and it rose to have a high ranking type close to its main source, everyone deemed for him to be special. Nightmare didn't have anything planning for himself and felt a bit envious yet never enough to hurt Dream. He already accepted that he'll never beat Dream. Nightmare had a wind type which was pretty far away from its main source. When he was young, everyone wanted to make sure if Nightmare was just a late bloomer and had more than just a pitiful wind type only to be wrong. Because of his weak and hard to train type of magic, no one bothered to tutor him since it was expensive to train someone with such a useless type. Only being able to control the wind was hard and only a few in history could do a powerful spell. Most could just make a breeze and fly like any other witch. For Nightmare's type, he could barely make a breeze and he couldn't be trained properly outdoors. Every time a gust of wind or god forbid a breeze pass by, it blows Nightmare away. Leading to him to fly off the air with nothing to control with. So for most of his life, he has to carry something heavy to not fly off like a piece of paper. For most wind types, they wouldn't have the trouble of being blown away by a simple breeze yet for Nightmare, he somehow got the short end of the stick.

After high school, he had enough of the city and packed everything to leave. Days worth of traveling in peace. After a week and a half, all the allowance he saved up since he was little was finally running out. Nevertheless, he was almost to where he planned to be in, the countryside. Unlike the city or suburbans, being a witch was less competitive but unlike the city, they're not very fond of witches. Since they have less regulations for having less police in the area, witches have a bad reputation for ruining crops with their magic or making herds run away. Nightmare planned to live in peace being an untrained witch in the countryside. There was more wind but if he was careful to keep his identity intact and to carry something a bit heavier than the wind could carry them he should've been good... Should've been. After almost an hour of walking with luggage, he meets a farmer who was tending to his crops.

Nightmare had promised to pay him to stay for at least one night in his house. Farmer who was ironic named Farmer denied the offer and rather wanted the help of tending for his crops. When asked about witch encounters in the area, Farmer said nobody in this area or any other surrounding farms wanted a witch around. Especially for what happened almost a decade ago where they saw a magic circle in a far away sky was activated where the aftermath of the explosion had made a gust of wind that ruined crops and scared animals away like sheeps or cows. After a couple of days, Nightmare helped Farmer with the normal chores. Nightmare had thought that no wind would come up for that one day and decided to be careless and not carry a small bag of sand in his pocket. After having lunch with Farmer, they head out to the field when suddenly a breeze passes by. He held Farmer's hand like he was about to die as he was blown up. Farmer held him in panic as he not only realized that Nightmare was a witch but he felt light as paper. They have an eye to eye moment before the wind disappeared as Nightmare fell to the ground. They have a talk between it and Farmer for some reason suggests to let Nightmare live in his home. Nightmare was shocked by this newfound kindness but all Farmer said that he needed a lending hand as he blushed. Nightmare oblivious to his emotions agreed happily as long as Farmer allowed him to live there.

Sometimes they'd farm and sometimes, Farmer would tie Nightmare with a rope to a post to help him train to at least fly a broom. Helping Nightmare conquer his fear of being blown away. It wasn't the best but he learned to at least slowly fly but he needed a leash tied to his stomach to keep him from being blown.

Character development, blah, blah, blah and etc. I had a plan where Dream finally meets Nightmare and they have an argument on who had it harder. Nightmare with his lonely neglect or Dream with his overbearing expectations. I also had an idea of what if Nightmare wasn't a bloomer but also had a hard time being trained and was actually a moon type like Dream being really close to having a sun type.

Reaper would be able to sense death and everyone was scared he had an original death type instead of sensing death so they made him cover up, leading to no one touching his skin so no one dying.

Geno would be a human who was cursed and died so he's a ghost. Also was thinking of him being a psychic witch(?)

The trio would be wanted witches. Ink can control any liquid to a limit.

I was thinking of Blue just being a normal or a witch because I couldn't think of a type at the moment.

Error carries the guilt of accidentally killing his big brother by being a witch who can summon strings to destroy, he can only destroy things by summoning his strings and nothing else interesting, idk or maybe Error is a Geno incarnate.

Fresh can be a witch with mind manipulation as in taking over their mind and controlling them, living people have a time limit while dead people don't since there's no soul fighting their will back.

What should I call it?

#undertale headcanons #story ideas #nightmare sans #dream sans #farmer sans #dreamtale #undertale au

16 notes · View notes