#like yeah those are there. but He's the tool and magic's the wielder not the other way around
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
talentforlying · 1 year ago
Text
i'm building a treatise on the magic system of hellblazer because frankly, i'm a little obsessed with it. emphasizing that you get out of magic what you put into it, that your intentions matter just as much as getting the spell word-perfect. i think constantine says at one point that everyone thinks it's all about the rituals and spells, but that's just the gift wrapping for the real thing: it's like a personal amplifier, not a pet to be tamed. and, of course, the price you pay is always too high.
13 notes · View notes
mokulule · 10 months ago
Text
A Pinch of Salt - part 3
First | Masterpost
John couldn’t believe he was doing this, listening to the bloody kid. The cigarette hung forgotten from his lips. Every instinct told him to hunt down the kid and get him out of there; he’d seen enough dead kids to last him several life times.
Yet here he stood, counting down the minutes with a watch in hand. A spectral storm was dangerous, it could hurt a lot of people, attract even worse things. The plan was sound.
The end justified the means.
He felt sick.
There hadn’t been any screams from the kid (yet) - just the feeling of the malevolent energy moving further away. As long as it was moving away the kid had to be moving too.
Time was up and John was running. Kid was not getting a second longer than he’d asked for. It took him a minute to reach the plaza.
He spun around taking in the space. The central installment, which would have been some kind of fountain had it been finished judging by the exposed piping, was kinda in the way.
John huffed in annoyance.
This was clearly not gonna be the prettiest binding he’d ever done, just circle and a sigil for each cardinal direction, but it’d have to do. He pulled out a compass and promptly grimaced at the way the needle shook from electromagnetic disturbance.
Yeah, so north was probably over by the escalators.
The malevolent energy had turned around and was now coming back. Kid better be alright or John would have to murder him himself.
Time was hastily running out. It was a bloody good thing John worked well under pressure. He’d barely drawn the last squiggle when he heard fast running footsteps. He looked up just in time to see the kid take a running leap off the first floor banister.
Fuck. John’s heart jumped into his throat. He was only halfway through a levitation spell when he realized he would be too late. He wasn’t fast enough. At best the kid would break a leg at worst he’d break his neck!
He braced himself and then- John didn’t believe his eyes- the kid ducked into a rolling landing jumping right back to his feet like some kind of bloody knock-off Robin.
“Ya nearly gave me a fucking heart attack,” John said clutching his chest.
“We don’t have time for that. Here they come!” Kid yelled as he ran over to him. And right he was, the storm burst into the room in a tornado of trash, tools and now gray dust - just great, it had gotten into a bag of cement powder.
It was John’s turn. Just as the storm entered the circle, John slammed his hands onto the circle and activated it. His hairs rose on end as the magic activated. The wind and dust slammed against the binding, but it held despite the less than ideal circumstances.
Time to do the banishment. John couldn’t wait to be done with this.
-
The hairs on Danny’s arms stood on end; so this was magic.
Danny knew magic existed. He’d been mind controlled by a magical scepter. He’d seen magic used and reality itself changed at the snap of a finger - heck Danny had wielded the Reality Gauntlet himself. But that was just it, wasn’t it? those were magical items. Objects of power that bestowed a certain set of abilities to the wielder.
It was real, but it was less real somehow, or rather more mundane. Not quite so different from the crazy things his parents invented and that was just science.
It was something quite different to see, to feel, the power in the air, the way pressure increased and his ears popped when he swallowed all because Trenchcoat held out his hands and said a series of strange words.
Danny could feel reality warping at this guy’s will, a point above the ghost where this world was growing thinner. He was making a portal right here, with nothing but words and will and whatever magic was supposed to be - something that had been his parents’ magnum opus, taken years of study and then not even worked until Danny stumbled inside, an unwitting sacrifice.
Would it have even turned on without him inside? Or had that been a little bit of magic too?
Danny laughed with an edge of hysteria. And here Trenchcoat made it look easy.
So much time spent - missed dinners and awkward school events waiting for parents that never came and they should have just found this dude instead.
Something caught his attention. At first he couldn’t tell what it was, but invariably he was drawn to the forming rip in reality.
Something was wrong.
Heat and sulfur stuck in his nose. A sense of dread pooled in his gut. There was something malicious about it. That wasn’t a portal to the ghost zone.
“Where are you sending them?” Danny yelled over the whipping winds.
“To Hell,” Trenchcoat yelled back, not taking his eyes off his task.
“Hell!” Danny squeaked in horror.
Trenchcoat spared him a bewildered glance. “It’s a banishing, kid. It’s what it does.”
Danny’s gaze shot from the portal to the ghost back to Trenchcoat. No, it was all wrong. The ghost was in pain and yes they were out of control but they didn’t deserve to be sent to Hell for it. Danny had to do something.
“Stop! You have to stop!” Danny stepped in front of the man hands raised almost in mirror, except Danny didn’t have anything as potent as magic at his disposal, not unless he wanted to reveal himself. He felt some of his resolve crumble at that thought. Danny still didn’t want to find out what the man had intended to do to him, had he not passed his salt test.
“Hell’s bells, kid! What are you doing?”
“You have to stop they don’t deserve this!”
“Kid, it’s out of control! This is how it’s done.”
Absolute certainty.
Danny wobbled. Clearly, he knew what he was doing, he was the real deal. Who was Danny to question that?
The ghost screamed in despair, cutting straight to Danny’s core. His lips pressed into a thin line. He met light blue eyes, held them, and then he took a step backwards - into the circle.
-
Am I being mean? A little bit XD Sorry I couldn't help it. I hadn't planned for Danny to do it quite like this in my original plan but he sure did it.
Thanks for the lovely comments on the previous part :D
You can subscribe the masterpost for the series here
382 notes · View notes
shewhowas39 · 6 months ago
Text
a bantery sneak peek of chapter 6!
i'm hoping to post chapter 6 of Juniper & Starlight tomorrow, so here's a preview. this is a banter heavy chapter. enjoy.
***
“So. Four days in, and not a tentacle to be seen.”
“Mhm. Let’s hope it stays that way.”
“Naturally. But I was thinking - what if it doesn’t?”
June finally looks up from the book she’s been reading as the party has made their way along the rocky trails. Astarion is a bit impressed by this, really. How she can manage to have her nose so deep into a book and still manage to avoid every obstacle that comes into her path. More than once he’s considered just nudging a branch or a rock directly in front of her, curious to see if she would have the reflexes to avoid it while keeping her eyes on the pages of her book. 
But his little plan requires her liking him, so instead he opts for a conversation.
“Of course, the first sign of change, and I’ll have to stop that pretty little heart of yours,” he says, and immediately winces internally. This? This is his attempt at friendly conversation?
In truth, Astarion hasn’t had much friendly conversation in the past two centuries. It’s mostly all been seduction, flirting, or brutal verbal sparring with his “siblings.” It dawns on him suddenly that he doesn’t know how to have a normal conversation with someone anymore, and he feels the knife of grief twist in his gut as he realizes this is yet another thing he’s lost. 
June raises an eyebrow at him. “Yeah. I reckon you will.”
Astarion can see it’s too late to backtrack now, but perhaps he can course correct. Steer the conversation in a more pleasant direction.
“I am open to suggestions. Knives? Poison? Strangulation?  Whatever you’d prefer?”
That was not the way to do it, though, he realizes once the words have left his mouth. If anything, he’s sure he’s just made this so much worse. Methods of death may be a fun topic to him, but he doubts someone like June is going to feel the same way. She’ll probably be horrified, and this pathetic attempt will just end up setting Astarion back.
To his surprise, however, June tilts her head in thought, as if seriously considering this question rather than running away in disgust.
“Well, I do got that wyvern toxin in my bag,” she says. “Poison might be the most peaceful, in a way, but…”
“Hm, no. I don’t think poison is for me,” Astarion says, suddenly flooded with relief that perhaps he hasn’t fucked this up as badly as he’d assumed. “Nor stabbing, come to think of it. I always felt decapitation was a fine choice. One good swing and then…nothing.” 
“Only if the person doing the swinging has a strong arm and a sharp blade,” June points out. “If you’re missing either of those, it ain’t gonna be fast.”
“Fair point. And I’m not certain any of our companions have the muscle to do it in one chop.”
“Shadowheart might. Or Wyll, but I don’t think a rapier is gonna cut it… No pun intended.”
Astarion grimaces. “No, I don’t want the experience of being decapitated by a rapier. And Shadowheart might make it slow just for her own entertainment. I sense a sadistic streak in that one.” He shakes head with a sigh. “Perhaps I need to rethink my preference. But we were talking about you. What would it be?”
June closes the rather heavy looking book and tucks it under her arm as she considers. “Probably stabbing? As long as you got someone with the right aim - and between you and Wyll, I think we do - it could be pretty quick.”
“A classic!” Astarion is almost giddy, delighted by what he thought was a disastrous conversation opener being entertained. “One good thrust to the heart and you’re gone! We’ll need a good blade, though.”
“Yeah. I reckon it’s like decapitation. Or any other form of killing. You gotta have the right tools and the right wielder or it’ll get real messy.”
“Absolutely. Oh, but there’s always magic, too, I suppose. I hadn’t considered that. Perhaps you could make my head explode with one of your loud thunder spells?”
“A good Shatter spell? Maybe.” June’s eyes are sparkling. She’s having fun, he realizes, and he’s pleasantly surprised to see it. “I could also do a Magic Missile. Three quick bolts right to your heart might stop it from beating.”
Astarion laughs. Not quite, darling, he thinks, very aware of the unbeating heart in his chest.
***
the boy just doesn't know how to talk to people abouta nything but murder, okay? lucky for him, this goody-two-shoes he's trying to seduce is also the fucking dark urge.
if you wanna read more, you can check the full fic out on Ao3 here.
14 notes · View notes
Text
DAYLIGHT VOL.? : Komori Kayo
Tumblr media
a piece of lore i decided to format as a drama cd, specifically modeled after the daylight series! though, the premise is a little different. it's not a tear-jerking kind of story, but i think it's pretty somber. the events of this cd are canon, and are set during lost eden.
WARNING: violence, explicit threats of violence, and body horror are present throughout all the tracks.
Tumblr media
Track 1: Ultimatum
(The Mirror of the Afterlife, the church’s most prized hunting relic. A mirror that can augment one’s physical prowess and act as a portable gateway to the Demon World. 
I was tasked to retrieve this mirror from the basement of that manor when the Vampire King, head of the Demon World, Karlheinz passed away, handing his power down to one of his sons. 
Still, with such a powerful tool, it had its consequences. Those who would use it would eventually succumb to insanity one way or another. While its cause is unknown, a common theory is that the mirror shows its wielders such a distorted reflection of the world that one can only go insane to cope.
I was able to resist such effects for a while. What insanity can it feed if I’m nothing but a hollow shell? Though, I can’t deny that a deep-seated sense of nihilism within me began to grow as I continued to use it to subdue demons. It showed me an empty void.
This mirror is also a powerful magical catalyst. It can absorb almost any magic used on it and grant the user access to its magic. Naturally, if something like the Vampire King’s powers were absorbed into this mirror, then I would potentially have the power to completely destroy the world.
Doesn’t that sound fun?)
— Distant blasts are heard. 
“Hahaha… hahahahaha! You’re going to have to try way harder than that, Adam!”
(He’s clearly inexperienced with that much power in his fingertips. If I keep baiting his blasts with silver bullets, I can get close enough to go for the kill.)
— Kayo shoots a few more times, with each shot accompanied by another blast.
“He’s getting sloppier… this is really taking the wind out his sails, huh? Well, good for me then.”
“Hm… he’s pretty well-guarded, though. If I can’t get any closer, we might hit a stalemate soon—“
— Another blast, considerably louder. There’s a sound of cracking bones.
“Oh… my arm. It’s gone.”
— Her blood gushes endlessly, though it suddenly stops. Her arm grows back.
“Fufufu… isn’t that the third time you tried to blast my limbs off? It’s useless.”
(This eye has been keeping me alive, constantly regenerating my limbs. 
The Vibora are very potent healers, better than any other race. Its royal family, even more so. There was once a story of the Demon Lord Burai regrowing his entire body from his decapitated head after the final battle against the Founders.
Naturally, with his eye in my socket, on a new moon when Vibora are most powerful… regrowing a limb or two isn’t a big deal for me.)
“Still, I might grow tired if I keep focusing on growing my arms back… I’m also running out of bullets. Tsk, how can I…?”
“Ah, that girl…”
— Kayo runs towards Adam, grabbing the girl beside him and quickly moving away. 
“You’re surprisingly easy to steal away. Don’t move, or this knife will slit your throat.”
“Eeh? Why am I doing this? It’s nothing against you or your boyfriend here, honestly. It’s kind of like stepping on a few marching ants when you’re bored. You do it because you can. Isn’t that reason enough?”
“So, don’t take this personally.”
— She turns her attention towards Adam.
“Adam, if you choose to die peacefully, I’ll make this girl’s inevitable death as easy and painless as possible. Otherwise, I’ll make her know what it’s like to have your body parts ripped straight from your body. If it’s anything like how I experienced it, it won’t be that bad asides the excruciating pain.”
“‘Inevitable death’? Yeah, either way, I’m going to kill you and destroy the world anyway. That includes her. If you love someone, wouldn’t you want their last moments to be peaceful? So choose—let her die as quietly as falling asleep, or have me tear her limb from limb in front of you. Come on, choose.”
— Adam begins to back down.
“That’s right. You really do love her, don’t you?”
“Wonder how that feels. Pfft. It seems that it only leads to a lot of embarrassment. You look pathetic kneeling down like that. Would you start barking like a dog if I demanded it of you, too?”
— She brandishes her knife.
“Now, be a good boy and stay still—“
— Kayo is pushed to the ground. The mirror is thrown to the ground, shattering.
“Ah, you’ve got a lot of fight in you, huh? Even when you know I’d kill you if you make one wrong move…”
(I suddenly feel exhausted… Is it because she shattered the mirror?)
— She laughs.
“In that case, I’ll just kill you both! Right here, right now. How’s a bullet to your temple—“
— Kayo quickly loads her gun, though Adam gets up and rips her heart out. 
“Gah—ugh…!"
(My heart, of course… Anyone would die with their heart ripped out, wouldn’t they?
Hopefully…)
— She falls wordlessly to the ground. Hurried footsteps leave the area.
To Be Continued...
Tumblr media
15 notes · View notes
hunterontheedge · 2 years ago
Text
Hi. Hello. I am going to discuss Elliot. If you do not want to see a wall I suggest you scroll
Tumblr media
Elliot, White’s companion and Elizabeth IV’s weird counterpart that’s also her friend I dunno uhm. Yeah !  So. Elliot has two separate lore pathways and the boring one is that he’s a failed copy of Liz but the more interesting fabricated one White made up so he wouldn’t feel like trash is that he belonged to another hero beforehand and was left in a stone for the next one to arrive. Kinda like a sword in the stone situation mixed with brush wielders. And he was just. Passed down. Taken, fought heroically, saved the day, got put to sleep for decades, and the cycle repeated. He tended to forget things while he slept but occasionally he’d get deja vu and it’d barely save them by the skin of their teeth (them in regards to him and unimportant faceless heroes)��
Prior to White wielding him, he only functioned as a standard pop-out blade. Like Elizabeth, but much more limited in what he could do. If the hero wanted to hit a flying target he’d have to be thrown or they’d need a bow/slingshot/something with range. Heavy attacks and a shield were also out of the question.  The last hero he was ever with perished fighting an ice dragon of sorts. Generic final boss fight material. Though, all the years of fighting and being stuffed into a rock and being used as a tool made his blade flimsy enough to snap it. So good on him! He no longer functions as a sword. Well, until paired with a bit of elemental magic, his soon-to-be gimmick. See below:
Tumblr media
A diagram of the various blades Elliot can become. They’re very much and evidently inspired by various types of swords/unconventional anime swords. 
Water - A Cutlass, more specifically a cartoonishly disproportionate one that looks more like a chef’s knife than an actual cutlass. Fire - A katana. Electro - A Kris. Or, at the very least, inspired by one.  Geo - A very clunky claymore. It’s not very good for stabbing but GREAT for smashing things. Wind - A classic sword with a gap in the base of the blade. Claimed to help give it more power. Ice - An Icicle, simply put. Shockingly, it doesn’t melt in hot weather! Nature - A spear of sorts.
The “Ellements” (Elements) can indeed be combined. Fire/Electro possibly being the best combination there is! 
Tumblr media
Personality wise, Elliot is just… a guy, really. New wielders see him as a guide whilst those who know him well see him as friend. Pretty simple. He’s particularly like this to combat Realms!Liz and her general insanity (with a side of losing thought comprehension and just wanting to fight).  I may reblog this w/ more info but I’ll also respond 2 questions if ppl have any :3 
4 notes · View notes
kruberatrollsrule · 2 years ago
Text
"As long as time has existed, their has been two kinds of this world: Humans, non magic beings that are surprisingly resourceful. And those born of magic, beings who shape the world around them. The races have lived together for as long as this world stood, two sides of a coin, same but different. Thought the ages both sides have come into conflict whether it be one or the other, either side would always try to conquer the other, but a tentive peace would settle over....
...til the age of the human you wpuld know as King Arthur. A King of his people, he had dispised those born of magic that did not follow to his will. Capturing and ending any and all he saw as a threat. Which unfortunately was about any and all beings born of magic so eh? What can you do with stubborn.
To end this threat of "rogue" magic, he had his personal wizard Merlin craft a weapon that could control and end these threats these Trolls and monsters. A task that would succeed. But all was not lost! For you see Merlin's apprentice, Arthur own sister, the Mistress of Shadows, Morgana would not let that happened. She was a well-meaning, and understanding sorceress. Powerful of arts of magic and out speaker for wrongly imprison beings, Had sought to let her brothers crusader go any longer.
She had travel to the trolls of both fractions(The trolls of Dwoza and the Gumm-Gumms), to make a alliance between them......it went about as well as first but it was made.
During the battle that would forever be known as the Battle of Kilahead, Arthur wielded his weapon: A Green broadsword that could unless shards that put any and all things under his reign, with armor as green as emeralds, He became known forever more as the Green Knight. Morgana to combat Merlin weapon had made a tool of her own. Or should i say Tools.
As a saying goes, Two are stronger then one, so she created two objects to embody that: The amulets of Daylight and the amulet of Moonlight. Daylight to be used by the Trolls of Dwoza and Moonlight to be used by Gumm-Gumms. Two sides of a whole, A Sword and a Shield, Guardian and Warrior. Together Daya the deliver wielder of Daylight and Orlagk the Oppressor wielder of Moonlight defeated the Green Knight and sealed him away. But he would not yeld so easily and even now his servents work to free him.
So it has been for centuries that A Guardian and Warrior would protect noth humans and trolls and the occasionally gnome and others and you Master Jim have been chosen to wield the Amulet of Daylight! Isn't that an honor."
Said one Dictatious Galadrigal older brother of Blinky said. A large semi nervous smile pn his face as said younger brother looked between Jim and Dic, not sure how the half-Human would take it-but hoping it's with less...."enthusiasm" than the likes of Unkar the Ultimate.
Jim himself, could only stare as his own thoughts whirled. One thought cane throught.
"What the heck did i do?"
--------------------------------------------------
Hey so this year has gotten me in mulitvese stuff and broken timeline aus where canon is thrown out the window. So i had this thought last night and went with it.
So based for this Au: When Jim reset time, it didn't reset correctly and like another teen hero, didn't reset/remake the world the same so now Jim stuck in this timeline him. Also I'm combing book and show canon so things will be different or same and changing troll biology to fit this au cause I'm A) a shipper. B) It's only way i can make changes to somethings. C) Troll ageing is weird so yeah making it something i can understand.
Will post more probly. I don't know i like this idea so yeah.
4 notes · View notes
lonesilverw0lf · 1 year ago
Text
I’m glad that you’re still wanting my ideas! I know you’ll make some juicy goodness with them. And I don’t mind if you have to tweak/ignore stuff to make it work, you’re doing all the legwork here! Writing, wristwork?
Yeah, sorry Gramps but that’s the bricks ain’t it? None is us are getting any younger. As much as I wanna give him a good ol Whitebeard, Garp, Captain Commander Yamamoto, or Netero persona, old guys who can still wholly wreck your shit, without magic or Aura it’s kinda hard. The best I can come up with is the old man from the movie Nobody. I recommend that movie, it’s great. The comedy is pretty subtle, so pay attention. But I can see him having a Cornel Potter from MASH kinda energy when he’s not in soldier mode. Telling all sorts of stories to the enjoyment of the younger folk. Not many people his age left to chew the fat with. He might also give lessons about guns. How best to use them, what types to get, safety, and whatnot. Give some subtle aid to the people. Or is that part of the Knights movement?
Gramps is obviously not going to be thrilled that Jaune’s found himself in tight with the Xiongs, but it is what it is. Not like gramps can reliably count on his son to aid Jaune, pops grew up in a peaceful world so is pretty soft. Not his fault mind you, but soft doesn’t work well in this kind of work. Jaune got ‘lucky’ he’s in the stage of his life where he could make the transition easier than what pops could.
Crocea being a meteoric iron ore combined with bone steel forging and a couple of enchantments along the way is great! It’s well made and beautiful by sword standards, but ultimately unremarkable without aura. The meteoric metal can maintain its edge and durability easily. I’m just imagining the sword basically sleeping until Jaune’s Awakening when it wakes up with a “Ah yeah baby! Let’s fucking goooooo!” Jaune nearly takes his leg off his first few swings. Baby can cut through most anything now! Watch out Grimm, daddy has a new toy! It still has some weight to it, but to the wielder it’s noticeably lighter with Aura. If it has some gems in the pommel or something to hold an Aura charge it’ll be even better. Yes I stole that from the Inheritance Cycle books. Or they can be an Aura manipulation device to add more versatility to his actions, like elemental sword, sharpens an Aura Slash, and stuff. Truly a weapon to fight on any front against any enemy. Of course the knowledge of how those work has been lost until someone accidentally finds out again.
While everyone else is playing Devil May Cry Jaune is stuck playing Dark Souls. But there are some godly weapons that eventually come into our hands. But this is well down the road.
It’s also been said that Crocea has a spear(or similar pole weapon)twin that has been lost to the ages. The spear is a shameless reference to my favorite weapon in the mobile game Archero. It shoots lasers. Pew pew. Opposites yet complements. If the sword can be wreathed in fire then the spear can channel lightning. Or at least one can do a job better than the other, like swords easier with the fire and harder with the lightning and vice versa. Considered the only weapons to ever beat each other outside literal god forged tools like the Relics. No trouble if it doesn’t appear. Not sure if we wanna give the sword an Saber Artoria spirit to train Jaune after his Awakening. If we did then the spear has a FGO Jeanne.
For BLGA+Ying, I was thinking a spell/artifact that reads “conjures an alternate version of your target”. People can easily misinterpret “alternate versions” as “direct opposite” as could be the case here. Cinder thinks “the alternative of good is evil, so if I hit the Girls with this then I can get a squad of evil magic girls in my side! Absolute win!” Unfortunately, mostly for Cinder and Jaune and some measures everyone else, the ‘alternate version’ are still good guys just different. Watch out world, because Blue, Onyx, Silver, Pink, and Obsidian are here! We have three characters with black motifs, gotta come up with some better names.
Blake can be green with envy (stupid pun I know, but couldn’t pass it up!) upon witnessing her alter version Aiko keeping up with Lily! How?! And with how open and approachable Aiko is only exacerbates that feeling.
Weiss can be fuming with how straightforward and crass Bleiss is, how dare she try to steal her not-husbando! The nerve!
And then of course there’s the altered version envious of the originals for their own reasons too.
Now we can just hope that Ren doesn’t get hit with some gender swap spell here. Jaune need to have at least one normal friend. Or not given his luck. Kampfer anyone?
For Penny my thoughts were along the lines of: some people rightly don’t like the idea of a handful of magic girls with the power to flatten countries flying around unchallenged and unchecked so we need a contingency for them. Since magic is ultimately a tool it’s up in the air if the Magic Girl is going to be good or evil. You can’t convince me there haven’t been more than a few bad eggs throughout history to validate their concerns. So the automatons were made to help counteract them. Made back in the day when vestiges of magic were more common and made with the aid of the Relics, they could reasonably fend off or even defeat rouge magic girls with the right numbers and competent commander. Penny could be inspired by some models for starters but they couldn’t get those original models started. Some scientists would probably think themselves better than their predecessors in making anti-magic girl drones as well. Arrogant assholes not realizing they’re standing on the shoulders of giants. Humanity has never been stupid. Geniuses exist throughout history, they just didn’t have the accumulated knowledge that you do. I could’ve made this idea a little more clear from the start, but it’s easy to miss stuff trying to rewrite this a few times. Not your fault for the rewrites, but I’m still blaming you.
I’m chill with no spoilers if it’s difficult to explain, I have to be level 7 to access her tragic backstory, or you have some d5 chess move for her. I’m sure you’ll surprise us with the Relics reveal. I’m sure it’ll be fun when you get to her!
Ah great, now I’m laughing at the idea of 2B getting woken up and registering Jaune as her leader. Blake, your Bellabooty has some serious competition now. Ah man. That’s the what, fourth car accident her tookus has caused today? We gotta do something about that.
Amber is a pushover normally, but get her doctor mode fired up and she’ll put the fear of god into anyone. CRDL can gain even more respect for Jaune if during one of their workouts they hurt themselves and Amber just happens to be nearby and helps them. They’re crying for mercy, but she’s doing this for their own good. “Oh come on, quit your whining! Jaune only made half as much noise when I did this to him!” The sound of bones cracking back into place even impressed Port! Scares the hell out of anyone else. Now if she only get that duty driven, bonehead , gorgeous, Adonis Jaune to just take the night off and let those wounds heal! If she didn’t want to risk aggravating any other injuries she’d strap him to the bed! “Does she have any idea how kinky that sounds?” “We’ll tease her later for it.”
Nice idea for Arslan, makes for an easy introduction for NDGO. While I can see her simp squad falling over themselves trying to ‘avenge her’, I can also see more than a few of PRWBY’s jealous fan club also trying to get dirt on Jaune. Thinking he’s doing some long con, manipulated/brainwashed/blackmailed Ruby to get close to the others or something stupid. A mob is only as smart as it’s dumbest member.
A piece I forgot to add last time is some events to stir up the bad boy rumor mill. I know there were some more, but I forgets. Ruby has last been seen walking into the bathroom with Jaune, he must be having his way with her! No, he needed to answer nature, Ruby was just babbling on not paying attention to her surroundings or destination, and Jaune almost had his pants down before he realized his situation and kicked her out. He grew up with seven sisters, bathroom privacy is nonexistent. So forgive him if it took a hot minute to register.
Terra wanting a ‘donation’ from Jaune is going to be fun. Welcome to manhood friend. Adrian is from her previous marriage or Jaune’s kid. Jaune can also be immune to Ruby’s puppy eyes. Sorry Rubes. You are adorable, but Jaune had puppy eyes as a kid so did all his sisters. It’s an Arc trait.
One thing for Jaune’s perfect student example can be where Jaune gets into a fight but isn’t expelled for it. I know that a ‘perfect student’ doesn’t fight, but to me that doesn’t mean much. Grades don’t equate to real life the way schools pretend. The difference between a weak and gentle person is that a weak person can’t hurt anyone, but a gentle person chooses not to hurt anyone yet has the capacity to do so. So perhaps a team from another school arrives for a sporting event and tries to stir up shit. Jaune is taking none of that, especially when he’s protecting the weak, and puts the beat down on him. (Introducing the uber shy May?) Glynda is a hairs breath away from expelling him when Port loudly congratulates him. Saying stuff like this is how a real man acts, in defense of others, controlling himself to only injure/restrain and not cripple/kill them unless absolutely necessary, and so on. Glynda has to concede Peter’s point here. It’s not often that Glynda is in the wrong or admits someone else has a point. Sometimes fighting is necessary. Just next time try to use some deescalation tactics before you let your fists fly.
Jaune can take a page out of Uncle Iroh’s book. Knight has the girls try -try- to cook him some food or brew some tea. I saw a breakdown on how Iroh is the strongest firebender: his sheer control over his element. The jasmine tea he loves so much has to be brewed at a specific temperature for a specific amount of time or else it tastes bad. Too hot and it scales the leaves, and so on. Ruby trying so hard to not boil the hell out of a pot of water only to have it blow up in her face is a good scene. That’s the times he’s being nice, instead of being Drill Sargent Shadow Knight. How can a guy without magic or aura instill that kinda fear?! Of course he can, he’s Batman. And then there’s your aforementioned internal issues they’re struggling with. Get out Sokka’s fake beard for a Therapy Session.
The Knight will sure be in awe when Lady Purple shows up. “Finally, some competent help! Why are you looking at me like that? What’s up with you girls all scared like that?” Are you planning on some milf and ara ara energy with Purple? Then what about Seinna? Are you just going to leave her out? You’ve given roles to side characters like Amber and Vernal, why not her? I’m just kidding. It won’t surprise me if you add her. Not expecting the RWBY moms though.
I thought a little more for Illia, she tracks Blake down to try to get her friend back to the White Fang only to find her actually happy and with friends. Of course she denies this reality, but she can’t deny that there’s some humie getting pretty close to her crush! To prevent a travesty(in her mind alone) she tries to make herself more appealing to this Arc character to take his eyes off Blake. And when the time is right and Blake is safely out of his reach she’ll strike! Of course the man in question is oblivious to this, so just treats her like a normal person. The feeling of someone recognizing her and giving her kindness is weird. Like she saved some kid from an accident or something and he sees this. Just telling her she did a good job and the right thing with a warm hand on her shoulder. If he gave her a headpat like he wanted she would’ve either melted into a puddle or tried to take his hand off. Or both. She didn’t get this kind of feedback with the Fang. How can she get more of this, just so she can ‘endure’ this mission to protect Blake of course. Strictly for the mission, Loid Forger style, the goob. She’s such a bottom she has no idea. We can only hope that she doesn’t try to create situations that she solves to get more praise when she switches sides. There’s plenty of work to do without having to create issues for ourselves.
Adam is just another asshole in need of realignment. He’s still an issue, but nowhere near as lethal without his aura and ergo semblance. At least not yet. He’s definitely more bloodthirsty than the Knight could ever be. His trusty sidekick Banesaw is no wimp either. He can join Cinder to get Blake back, not realizing that she’s Black and if Cinder gets her way Blake dies. Now if only he has a twin sister Eve in this…
Watts is an evil genius as we’ve seen, so what if he makes a lot of robots? Jim Carrey did a great job as Dr. Eggman in the Sonic movies. Clearly more in line with his Watts personality, but the extremes Dr. Eggman goes with his droids. “Droids never get tired, never get hungry, never say no, never let you down.” Evil robot army incoming. Now he just has to find a way to control the Grimm and he’s set for world domination.
For Cinder, I’m just curious what you mean by going crazy for Knight. Like in a yandere form, or like a Joker crazy over Batman form? Because if it’s a Joker form then I can see her refusing to admit that life is beautiful and she’s the one who needs to rethink her life. She tries to get him to see things from her perspective and join her cause. She could also ‘do him a solid’ by eliminating any who try to find out his real identity like how Joker does. She can also be in awe of how he doesn’t need magic to be useful and dangerous, something the MagicGirls clearly aren’t without their magic.
stupid rwby au idea
set in a world where the Grimm are hidden from the general public five heroes stand to defend them the maidens Pyrrha the fall maiden blake the spring maiden Weiss the winter maiden  yang the summer maiden and ruby the silver-eyed warrior  together these heroines fight to drive the forces of darkness out as magical girls the story would be focused on the character interactions of the girls and would generally have a happy tone to it. ya know your typical magical girl anime while at the same time jaune arc is a teen in the city of vale. his sullen jaded attitude tends to drive others away but his friends ren and Nora still stick by him. a delinquent through and through he spends most of his day sleeping and recovering from the wounds that he no doubt got from fighting at night. the truth is however that jaune isn’t fighting humans, no he fights monsters. armed with only a sword and his wits the boy faces off against creatures of darkness far beyond human capabilities, always just a swing of a sword and a misplaced step away from death. but still, he fights to save others as a knight of house arc jaune’s story is an urban fantasy mixed with horror. he’s a completely average human just trying to survive and protect people. unlike the maidens, he has no powers to heal him so he’s perpetually tired and wounded when he shows up to school giving him something of a reputation. only ren and Nora are willing to actually talk with him. that is until one day he meets a girl by the name of ruby rose. a snap decision from him leads to her befriending him (by force) along with her little gang. now as an even greater threat looms over the city jaune has to juggle his duty as a protector with the expectations of his new friends all while hiding what’s really going on behind the scenes the core of this story is the dramatic shift from the cute girls doing cute things of rwby and Pyrrha’s magical girls story, and the dark terrifying world jaune arc finds himself struggling to survive in as an urban fantasy/horror. with each side hiding the truth of what they are and what they’re doing from the other trying to protect them. some things to note, jaune’s a really great fighter. and if he was fighting anything other than Grimm he’d win hands down. but against superhumans, he’s barely holding his own with his ancestral sword. ruby and the maidens are all superhumans who slaughter Grimm by the hundreds but they’re not very tactical fighters and tend to rely heavily on their powers for everything.  outside of the fantasy, elements jaune has to deal with the negative reputation he has as a delinquent and how that affects his friends. while his friends have to deal with the fact they can tell jaune is not happy with how things are but won’t let them help out of what they assume is stubborn pride and maybe even suicidal depression. the dynamic is jaune tries to pull away to keep his friends safe, his friends forcibly befriend him because they know he’s a good guy who goes out of his way to help them some things i would wanna see is. a story about the girls following jaune around and coming up with all sorts of wild theories about him jaune being weirdly intense about certain things and making references to Grimm the girls have only ever heard about jaune finding out about blake being a catgirl and just shrugging like “it doesn’t matter, not like you guys would let me stop being your friend anyway, you’re still blake” rumors about jaune building a harem because he’s only ever around pretty girls or ren (who’s a very pretty man)  the girls coming up with crazy excuses for why they’re always missing and jaune totally believing them because he’s still jaune and kinda dense feel free to add your own shenanigans to this if you like
136 notes · View notes
itsclydebitches · 2 years ago
Note
I don't want to come off as a nitpicking bastard but you're kind of made a blunder mentioning how those warriors before Oz didn't have magic. The thing is they did this was explicitly a story about the first stage of humanity where everyone had magic but these guys were too much of Scrubs to mount anything against Salem's dad. Pretty sure the only reason we never see them use Magic is because they're nothing more than nameless meat for the grinder before the real hero shows up. Thoughs?
The reason I assumed they had no magic at all was because 1. I don't think it's been explicitly said that everyone had magic during Humanity 1.0, just that magic existed? I've always interpreted it as the first version of semblances: maybe everyone has the potential to wield magic, but that doesn't mean everyone actually does. The same way everyone has the potential to unlock aura/develop a semblance, but only a few people (from what we've seen) actually get through that process. For me, saying all the warriors have magic is like saying all the Atlas citizens have aura. I mean yeah, maybe technically in regards to the potential that exists within humanity at this point in time, but it's not presented as something they currently have access to. The Atlas citizens can no more summon up an aura shield to save themselves than the warriors can throw a magic beam at the King. Because...
2. If they could, wouldn't we have seen it? I mean yeah, I totally get that they're the grunts before Ozpin shows up, but that doesn't erase the fact that the animation (a key source of information) paints them as non-magic wielders. They, along with the King's army, all carry swords, maces, and other close-combat weapons. He uses a scepter. Ozpin uses a scepter. The implication is that magic is kinda rare. The King flattens everyone because 99% of the warriors who show up have no magic to face him with, just normal weapons, hence being obliterated the second they walk into the room. If they wanted to imply that the King is much more powerful in regards to his magic than the others, have them throw up a shield that quickly cracks and fails to save them, or they throw out a beam he easily dodges. Instead, what we get implies that the King is powerful because he has magic, period. Ozpin wins because he's the one guy around who has the proper tools to face him.
Which is cool and fine except for the fact that Salem also has those tools, has no trouble using them while leaving, is visually shown to be Ozpin's equal, wanted others to use them to kill the King, etc. ... but didn't use them herself.
13 notes · View notes
remmushound · 4 years ago
Note
Hello! I have another request. Could you do a story where 2012 Donnie decides to use the Rise!Turtles' weapons for a test drive without their permission? I imagine 2012 Donnie trying to figure what kind of materials it has in order to create the mystic weapons and testing it out. But then things goes wrong and he attempted to fix it but can't. Bet the Rise!Turtles won't be so happy at Rise!Donnie's counterpart for taking their weapons without their permission.
@assanmaharielsreblogs
He had to get a better look at them. I mean, when else was he gonna get a chance like this one? In his world there was no magic— there was tech far behind his understanding, sure, but that was still tech. Tech that someone engineered, using their own knowledge, for a specific purpose. But here? It was all over the place! Just one patrol using Donatello’s goggles had keyed him into hundreds of mystical hotspots all around the city! He had seen their weapons in action, but he needed to see them closely— in controlled settings under a microscope! To see the inner workings and try to replicate them! If he could get his hands on that kinda tech, then he and his brothers would be unstoppable! And these guys were just using them like toys! Well, not on Donnie’s watch!
Michelangelo’s kusari-fundo had been a difficult thing to snatch. The box turtle was sleeping with the thing on his bed, hugging the weapon like it were a toy. If Donnie hadn’t known better, he’d have said the blades looked almost soft. Michelangelo snored just like Donnie’s Mikey did, tucked under a soft, fluffy comforter and dressed in an orange unicorn onesie. Mikey shared the bed with him (as did Leonardo with Leo and Raphael with Raph), but the older box turtle was sleeping like a rock.
Donnie carefully pried the tool from Michelangelo’s grip with the skill and delicate touch of a true ninja, quickly replacing it with a stuffed animal. Michelangelo gave a soft groan at the disturbance, but quickly hugged the toy as he settled once more. Donnie grinned and looked at the weapon in his hand. Staring into the slick, painted surface, Donnie almost thought he saw an eye staring back at him. He quickly shook his head, looked back, and the eye was gone. Just his mind playing a trick. Leonardo was next.
******
“What are you doing?”
Donnie almost screamed. “Wha— what are you doing awake?!”
Leonardo crossed his arms and glared, his face remarkably bare without his mask and only slightly stifled by a blue nightcap.
“I’m a ninja with crippling insomniac tendencies— sue me.” Leonardo said calmly. “What are you doing with my sword?”
“Uh.” Donnie glanced between Leonardo and the katana he was holding, “nothing?”
“Nothing?” Leonardo scrutinized with a piercing gaze that seemed to call Donnie out in his lie
Donnie hesitated, then sighed. He gave a light laugh and ran his hand across his head. “S-sorry! Just panicked. Other Donnie wants to uh. See if he can use some of the mystic energy from your katana to reverse-engineer a rift for us to get home— me and my brothers, I mean.”
“Ooookay.” Leonardo’s eyes betrayed his distrust, but he didn’t say a word against it, “just ask next time, okay?”
“Yeah. Will do.”
********
Getting the Tonfa from Raphael was nerve wracking. Access to Donatello’s staff was easy— Donnie already had permission to examine and admire its inner workings, so his touch was programmed into the systems anti-theft database as a non-threat. Michelangelo’s kusari-fundo required stealth, sure, and Leonardo’s sword required cunning, but this? This required him escaping with the Tonfa and from the crushing bite of a genetic predator. No matter how calm and content he acted while awake, after that first night’s run-in with savage Raph, Donnie was more than cautious to avoid another similar outburst. Lucky for him, the Tonfa were hung up at a safe distance from the snapper on the wall, and Raphael’s snoring drowned out any noise he might have made.
And just like that, Donnie had everything he needed for a test run. Of course, he was far more skilled with the familiar bō staff than with any of the other weapons (past experience had taught him just how difficult learning a new weapon could be, nevertheless mystic ones), so naturally Donatello’s bō was the first one to try out. Though it itself wasn’t of mystic origin, Donatello had stated many times of the mystic enhancements that made the weapon flourish from a simple multi-tool to what could classify as a weapon of mass destruction.
“Okay...” the staff, despite its greater size to the one he was used to, was surprisingly light in comparison. A quick weigh-in brought it to only fifteen pounds which, given the amount of tech it carried, was an incredible feat. Just how his younger counterpart could manage such a thing seemed almost impossible to the older Donnie’s mind, but that only served to scratch his curiosity even more! There were so many buttons on the shaft he didn’t even know where to start...
He went for the biggest button first out of pure, childish curiosity. This curiosity led to the worse possible outcome as the end of the bō furrowed out and turned into a compact rocket, which turned sideways on itself and shot out sparks of power. Donnie tried to catch himself, but it was too late. Already the power of the launcher dragged him off his feet and forced his unprepared body into a spin. It took his mind a few seconds to catch up with his body and press the same button to withdraw the blaster.
“Note to self... big button bad. Shoulda known that.”
From them on, he was much more careful with his examine. Every press of a button was met with a brace-for-impact in case a similar issue occurred, but he thankfully avoided such an outcome. One button shot a burst of electricity out the opposite side of the bō from where the blaster was, while another button shot two reinforced wings out either side to form a glider. Another button produced a blade on either side of the staff, and another revealed a compartment filled with gauze and alcohol thread and a needle safely tucked into a surgical pouch— an emergency kit, he supposed. He remembered Donatello also having a much bigger one in his battle shell, so this turtle obviously came prepared. Another compartment had a pair of glasses and a bottle of ibuprofen.
“Wow. No such thing as traveling light, I guess.”
He put the bō staff safely to the side before grabbing the Tonfa next. He placed both Tonfa on the table and the first thing he did was examine one of them under the microscope. It was nothing special— just redwood, as far as he could see— albeit old enough to date back to ancient Japan and perhaps even further. Then he put on Donatello’s goggles and looked at the Tonfa through the lenses, which opened up a whole new world of beauty to the normal-looking weapons.
The Tonfa lit up an impossible red, and on the screen appeared the word Muladhara. The red chakra— the root chakra as Donnie knew it best, represented by a red lotus with four petals. Vitality and strength. Instinctual tendencies and the densest of all seven chakras. The more his mind worked it over, the more it made sense. Muladhara was Raphael down to the finest detail. It commands attention and can be forceful at times. The color of passion and love and determination— the color of anger and daring. A color and chakra associated with abandonment and inherited trauma...
Donnie didn’t want to think about it anymore. And he didn’t dare try to activate the weapons knowing their power. He sat them aside and moved onto Leonardo’s katana.
Like the Tonfa, they were nothing special at first glance. Blades made from tamahagane steel common in ancient Japan, and the Tsuka was as unique as every tsuka, covered in ray skin and silken rope, with writing from the first ever wielder of the blade.
Anatawa Hitorijanai... you are not alone.
Under the goggles, another new vision of the mystic weapon opened up for him. The blue chakra of course— Vishuddha. The throat chakra. It took a lot more critical thought than with Raphael’s weapons, but Donnie supposed that the chakra could fit Leonardo. The balance of Vishuddha would speak truthfully, encouraging conversation and relying on self expression. Speaking with confidence and feeling compassion for those around you— communicating your worries even when you were scared to... but an unbalanced Vishuddha with no way to express it could easily lead to the anxiety Leonardo often felt in social settings. Perhaps his chakra was underactive, or blocked completely, by the feeling of something... unfulfilled in his life.
Donnie had more confidence experimenting with the teleporting sword than he did with the Tonfa. He wouldn’t have to go through it himself, he figured— he could just toss something through and study how it worked. He picked up the blade and looked it over before holding it out to the air in front of him. Leonardo had told him that he had to have a very clear image in his mind— no other thoughts clouding it. Any mistake or misthought could lead to an unstable portal, and unstable portals were extremely dangerous. You could get trapped between rifts, or get portal jacked, or end up hundreds of miles away from where you intended! Donnie closed his eyes to better imagine the room in front of him. Every fine detail... every flaw and crack and puddle and crawl space... every bug skittering around and every sound and every smell surrounding him like a cloud of mist.
He traced the blades point through the air and he was sure he could feel some minor resistance, but he kept focusing on the room. Droplets falling on the stone floor... forming puddles...echoing down the tunnels...
He completed the circle and opened his eyes. Immediately he pulled back as the brightest shade of turquoise almost blinded him, and after a moment of shielding his eyes he finally forced himself to look toward the brightness. The circle wasn’t perfect. In fact, the rift itself seemed almost squiggly, as if distorted by water. Distorted, but hopefully functional. Donnie took a pen out of his tool belt and reluctantly approached the portal, resisting against the temptation of its mystic pull and holding out the pen ready to throw it in. Then another thought occurred to him. What if he just…
He dropped the pen. At first the pen made as if it was going to fall but stopped midair by some otherworldly force. Then it was drawn to the portal and through it with a bubbling noise as it disappeared. Then another rift came to existence above Donnie and, before he could do anything more than look up to it, the pen fell out and hit him on the head.
“Ow.” It didn't hurt, but he said it anyway as he picked up the pen and put it back where it belonged. Curious. Very curious…
He took the sword and slashed through the original portal, destroying both it and its awkward counterpart with nothing more than a soft blip as the magic returned to the blade. There, no harm done! Now all that was left was Michelangelo’s.
A long chain, surprisingly rust-free for how far back it dated. The previous owners must have taken extreme care to keep it in the shape it was in. A chain that, despite how flexible and controlled it looked in Michelangelo’s skilled hands, was short and almost stiff in Donnie’s. The weighty was only on one end, as opposed to both as would be used with most kusari-fundo. A round weight with a ring of spikes across it. Donnie gave one point an experimental poke and yelped as it broke the skin and he started to bleed.
“Another note to self— pointy bit sharp.” He examined the serrated edges a bit longer before moving onto the goggle-inspection.
The sacral chakra, as Donnie had expected. Swadisthana, the orange chakra located in the lower belly. Connected to empathy and intimacy, pleasure both sensual and sexual. Creativity, fantasies, feelings. Everything that made up Michelangelo. An imbalance could lead to someone with boundary issues… yes, definitely Michelangelo, Donnie added to himself with a slight snort as he remembered just how clingy and touchy this world’s Michangelo’s was. At least his world’s always directed that touch-hunger to Raph or Leo and not to him.
A carving on the side of the weight caught Donnie’s attention and he spun it around to get a better view. The design was very faint, but it was there. It looked almost like a smiley face with closed eyes, something Donnie figured to have been added quite recently by Michelangelo. But further examination of it showed that the carving was old, as old as the weight itself, and installed by a previous owner. He even doubled and triple checked just to be sure he wasn’t seeing things.
Now all that was left to do was test it out. He had minor experience with chain weapons (the likes of which still haunted him to his day and made him give an uncomfortable shiver) and it wasn’t like he was actually going to fight with it! He was just going to test out the weight distribution and how effective it would be during fights since he had yet to see any of the other-world counterparts in battle.
He grabbed the handle securely, nodding at the nice distribution he was already feeling. He was just about to take a swing when he remembered the goggles still on his face and decided to take them off first, in case they somehow screwed with any of his data. He did so and turned to swing the kusari-fundo once more until something else this time stopped him in his tracks. 
The glow didn't stop. He had taken off the mystic sensors and he tapped his head just to be sure! But the glow didn't stop. The smiling face was a much more prominent yellow against the orange, and Donnie was sure its eyes had been closed before… 
The pupils in the eyes moved to stare at him and Donnie screamed and dropped the weapon in horror as he crawled back against the wall. The weapon pursued. On it’s own with no master or anything physical to command it. It drifted up and it’s living, flaming eyes followed Donnie’s every move. He made an experimental motion toward the door and the weapon made the same motion as it readied to pursue until Donnie returned to his original position.
The thud of approaching feet sealed Donnie’s fate in stone. Seconds later, seven mutant turtles poked their heads into the room, three of them armed and the other four looking confused and concerned by their lack of weapons. 
“Donnie?” Leo tried to make a motion to approach his brother, but quickly withdrew out of the room when the kusari-fundo gave a warning spark. “The hell’s that thing?”
“Sparky!” Michelangelo ran into the room confidently with his arms extended, his brothers spilling in after him.
“Wait, no!” 
Donnie awaited a terrifying assault that didn't happen. Instead, the fiery weapon subsided it’s flame and fell swiftly through the air to land in Michelangelo's arms. Michelangelo cuddled it closely and churred as he covered the tiny face in kisses.
Finally able to breath, Donnie went to part from the wall, but was stopped by a rough hand the size of his plastron.
The anger in Raphael’s eyes was uncanny. “You have a lot of explaining to do…”
80 notes · View notes
currentfandomkick · 4 years ago
Text
Marinette did not sign up for this part 9
so not as polished but it wouldn't shut up. enjoy!
first part here previous part here ao3 here
--
            Ladybug focused on talking to Bunnix first. Why? Bunnix would get the information she needed—one way or another. Perks of time traveler family on your side—a few questions and you get a lot of answers quickly.
            “Bunnix, you saw what was happening to Chat’s suit, right?”
            “Yeah, and uh… might want to restrain him or something until your threat level goes down.”
            Ladybug froze at that. “Explain—now.”
            Bunnix rubbed the back of her neck, looking away from the screen and Ladybug’s gaze. “okay, so long story short, Chat isn’t working with all his abilities.”
             Ladybug sighed as she knew where this was going. “Just like how my suit is too similar to Bridgette’s to be mine, not hers.”
             Bunnix nodded. “I’m not sure if it’s a holdover from the old timeline, or just a Black Cat miraculous thing—family was out of the loop for a gen or two before Grand-père—but if his stories are right, then this won’t calm down until after you’re safe from whatever life-and-death thing sent him off AND he believes it…”
             “Bunnix.” She needed more than that. “What’s happening?”
             “Uh, you know how he’s the only one with a color as part of his name?”
             Ladybug nodded.
              “There’s a reason for it. I don’t know how, timeline hopping side effects and all, but I’m pretty sure that he’s controlling condensed destruction for his Cataclysm, and it’s either leaking—which is bad—or he has some shadow ability. The Chat Noir from Grand-père’s timeline was after his Ladybug to free him from a curse his shadows… well Grandpère changed the timeline a lot for a reason. Whatever happened, haunted him.”
              Ladybug took a deep breath. High threat coming from her partner… “Chat Blanc bad?”
              “Honestly? Chat Blanc is a walk in the park by comparison.”
              Ladybug felt sick.
              “Got it. So what set him off—Murder Robin situation escalating?”
              Bunnix sighed. “Probably when the guy showed up.”
              The building rocked.
              “Gotta go, Bug out!”
              Ladybug snapped her compact shut and ran to where she could feel Chat—another perk of being Ladybug. Always knowing where your other half is when transformed—and sighed in relief when she saw he was hit by Miss Sting before he got anyone.
              Murder Robin was not doing good. Probably. She couldn’t read him.
              “Get him back to Paris and leave him at the museum—secret passage.”
              Miss Sting nodded, grabbing Chat Noir and throwing his frozen form over her shoulder as she ran.
              Green Lantern ran to the room only to see a paralyzed Chat Noir carried by Miss Sting.
              “Should I be worried?’
              Ladybug rubbed her temples.
              “Voyage!”
              “Stay in the library, I’ll fix this.”
              “But—”
              “Please.” Ladybug wanted to scream or cry or something because this is more than too much and overwhelmed would be a welcome change from how she felt at the moment. She was far beyond overwhelmed, in over her head, and whatever other way someone could think up to describe her current situation.
             Green Lantern closed the door for her, walking off.
             “Lucky charm.”
            Why was she given knitting needles? (she missed how Damian’s eyes went wide at the sight of them, something clicking.)
             “Miraculous Ladybug!”
             Ladybugs filled the room, undoing whatever Chat’s cataclysm did to it. it was an old training room, one she hadn’t fixed all the way before…
             A series of training dummies, wooden ‘blades’ (swords, knifes, spear staffs) and a few staffs appeared.
             Ladybug didn’t even say spots off before her timer ran out. Tikki blinked curiously at where they were.
            “Marinette…”
            “Not now Tikki, just, please?”
            Marinette took out a macron from her purse and gave it to the tiny goddess. Tikki took it with a sigh. “Do you want me here for this?”
           Marinette glanced at Murder Robin. Who was tied up, and she could feel had words to say but was going to butcher probably.
           “Private conversation this time. He came after me as me, not Ladybug.”
            Tikki nodded, finishing her cookie in one go.
            “You know how to call me if you want,” Tikki said before phasing through the floor. She likes to check on the plants on the lower levels.
            Marinette took a deep breath. “So, I get the whole rival heir thing and how off-ing rivals is a big thing in history, but uh…” and she forgot where she was going with this. Great.
            “Is it safe to say the flowers were not an adequate apology?”
            Marinette blinked. “What.”
            That was what those were for? Really?
            “The flowers, my teachers said the language of flowers was an important consideration when apologizing, and given your residence I assumed you were not familiar with Arabic, and I doubted your intelligence in English given your grades…”
            Marinette rolled her eyes. “You try being the main hero on-call 24-7 and see how well you do learning your non-sense language. Why didn’t you just say it in French?”
            “That is…” she had a feeling this had backstory he wasn’t wiling to share. “A fair judgment.”
            Marinette took a deep breath, trying to incorporate this tid-bit. Murder Robin was apologizing with the flowers. Which… many levels of ‘who raised this kid?’ and ‘I am assuming child custody’ warring in the back of her mind. He did try to kill her once…
            “And given your lack of defensive abilities, I assumed you would require weapons more suited to your frame, stature, activity level given your social media—”
            “Are you social media stalking me too?”
            “And your boutique. But that’s not the point—I wanted to ensure your safety once better understood that certain things taught to me were wrong. That I was wrong, and I needed to apologize for it.”
            Marinette was seriously debating if this kid was from another timeline. She wouldn’t put it past one of the Kubdels to do it either—the whole family could randomly have a ‘cousin’ appear for a bit to fix something later down the road and no one would be able to tell the difference…
            “So why the daggers?”
            “Mother favored them, I assumed it would be a good weapon of choice for you. I misunderstood your preferences… I hope the rapier is making a fine decoration to your liking at least.”
            “Used it in a few akuma attacks at home actually, so good call there, awkward explanation to Maman and Papa as to why I had one and why I was hiding it.”
            Robin’s face soured a bit. “Yes, Agreste’s… gift.”
            Marinette decided that was a sore spot to examine another time.
            “Yeah, big weapons aren’t my thing.”
            “My mistake. I hope the knives and throwing stars have been to your liking at least.”
            Marinette felt awkward about her (very reasonable) reaction as the (still foreign) information began to shift the picture. Insecure kid with a questionable home life that is in desperate need of socialization… “The ball point pen was a good call—had to add a few decorations to it so I stopped mixing it up. The Swiss army knife is really useful on the days I knew there was going to be too much going on to remember where I put my backup tiny tool kits.”
            Robin nodded at that. “And the throwing stars?”
            “Uh, may have turned a one or two into hair accessories, but haven’t really had the time to test them out with everything.”
            Robin nodded, mulling something over. “Okhti Al Kobra?”
            Marinette looked at him when he spoke, trying to get his meaning(s) and not just the surface. If Alya was there, she’d use her gut. But Marinette’s gut is an overacting jerkface that she refuses to trust at the moment…
            She might ask to borrow Wonder Woman’s lasso later.
            Or see if Alya has leveled up as a Fox enough yet to sense what Marinette needs her to. Maybe she could just borrow Trixx?
            “I haven’t told the others who you are.”
            Marinette paused at that. “But it’s the Ghosts of Gotham, you guys kind of know everything.” And are unofficially the ‘check’ to the superhero community if anyone goes rogue. At least for who the bats met. Crap—is there a file on her too? Maybe she’d ask the LoS if they could destroy hers…
            “I assumed the same. Apparently Father didn’t know about you until Aquaman confronted him on the matter.”
            Oh… oh. Oh! She… she outted herself. great. Wonderful.
            Marinette sighed. “That’s… good. I think.”
            “I doubt they’ve realized who you are yet. If my memory serves, Grandfather said only those most trusted by the God-touched could figure out their secret identities.”
            Marinette was grateful for Trixx’s twist to all miraculous magic, she really is.
            “So safe on that front, for now.”
            “Correct.”
            Marinette had a feeling he had more to say on the matter, and let him find what he had to say.
            “I know your identity, and that compromises you… You may compromise my own. I am Damian Al-Ghul Wayne.”
            Marinette’s brain shorted for a moment and needed time to reboot. And proof… and time to understand what just happened (and get the urge to kidnap this child out of her system. That was. No. Bad. She thinks. Maybe… he’s tiny and doesn’t even have magic protecting him! probably.)
            “Do you mind if I…”
            Robin—Damian. Damian lifted his head and nodded quickly.
            Marinette took off the mask and memorized his face. Shape is congruent with what she remembers of the latest Wayne Heir in a picture when Adrien and Kagami got at the Wayne Galas last year. It was the first time either family was invited.
            She had a feeling Ro—Damian. Damian was behind that… He could have been gathering information, but why? to learn about her, or Kagami who she knows he’s fenced against.
            Kagami who might have put things together and she needs to damage control there next. Great. (What is she the guardian of again? Lately its felt like miraculous wielders and not the kwami.)
            Marinette could sense Rena getting close.
            She put Robin’s mask back on and transformed wordlessly. Tikki must have returned at some point.
            “Can I come in?”
            Ladybug and Robin were in place then. both behind more comfortable masks.
            Ladybug went to the door and slipped into Gaurdian. The chances anyone besides her team knew it were slim… and she’d rather not ask Wonder Woman for her lasso… just in case.
            “Can you do me a favor?”
            “Yeah girl, what do you need?”
            “Just… let me know how you feel about his next answer.”
            At Rena’s nod, Ladybug turned to Robin as she let Rena in.
            “Have you answered my questions truthfully?”
            “Yes.”
            “Did you withhold information you believe to be important?”
            “Not consciously.”
            Ladybug looked at Rena.
            “I…” Rena kept scanning him, looking for something. “Why the…” she trailed off as her eyes went wide. “oh. Oh That happened.”
            Ladybug raised an eyebrow. “Uh, those were very loud whoosh with a bell. I think that means truth, just, wow.”
            And Rena’s ability to sense lies has a new manifestation, good. Downside—Alya will probably have it too and she may have been trying to delay this…Trixx will be happy at least, and no need for lasso of truth.
            “Well, I’ll be back in a bit. Rena, feel free to go home for a bit and rest up.”
            --
            Marinette almost screamed when she got home. She’d only be in her room for fifteen minutes tops—but still.
            Maman and Papa told her they’d be at a catering gig tonight, so she didn’t have to worry about them checking up on her once they left.
            No, she had to worry about the pics she was checking from her feed a year ago… which included Damian’s face for the Wayne Gala.
            She could have been a Wayne.
            She’s not, and she’s not mad just… wow. (Gotham/bullet dodged?)
            Which meant Bruce Wayne is likely Batman, and by order of appearance… Nightwing must be Dick Grayson-Wayne, Red Hood (who makes zombie jokes, like, a lot according to Gotham’s #Batwatch #OnlyinGotham twitter accounts) is probably Jason Todd, who died. Timelines match and she has questions. Many. But then there are more horrible realizations to make. Like Red Robin is probably Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne (does he have a not-first name anywhere in his name?) who she consulted as Marinette and designed a suit for two days ago. And his blonde friend (who was in her bakery. She debated her. just. Fuck.) was probably Spoiler who is the current Batgirl, and if she bothered to check his friends’ list, she’d probably find the girl’s real name. Cass was obviously black bat (only one who doesn’t mouth off in every fight, gave very short responses during their debate but agreed with Marinette so is probably smarter than the rest). Oracle is a mystery (thankfully. She’s certain she’d lose her tech forever if she found out who the woman was and it wasn’t on said woman’s terms).
            Just… a lot to take in.
            Once her parents were gone and Marinette had her brain (mostly) back, she texted Adrien that “latest situation was handled, talk tomorrow.” In response to him trying to make her phone explode with the sheer volume of texts he sent her.
            Not even five minutes later Chat made his way into her room, shadows still rolling. “What happened?”
            “I… long story short? I’m pretty sure he’s been brainwashed or something and Fox’s seal of approval on him telling the truth—he was leaving flowers and weapons as apologies and ‘here, to protect yourself’ things which is kind of sweet in a really, really messed up way that I do not have the capacity to process. He won’t be a problem—I have his secret identity and he has mine—apparently the other Bats haven’t figured it out, and didn’t know about me until I blew up.”
            Chat’s shadows settled on his suit. Returning to the familiar leather pattern. “Really?”
            Marinette nodded. “Really. Its to the point I have to remind myself not to adopt him—he needs help, and I doubt letting tiny child fight is a good thing.”
            “Anything on Bat-threat?”
            A smile twitched on Marinette’s face. “We both know you already checked.”
            Chat grinned at that. “Yeah. Wonder Woman took out four bodies and threw them into those tube thing-ies.”
            Marinette shook her head. “Oh, and you have a new thing that I have to watch for.”
            “Oh, I do?” Chat looked around, examining himself.
            Marinette shook her head at him fondly. “Shadow suit.” Once she had Chat’s attention, she continued. “You were a little…”
            “I’m going to guess not me?”
            “Miss Sting said paranoid in her messages, extra aggressive and then you almost killed brainwashed murder bird.”
            “Are we changing the nickname now?”
            “… honestly I’m debating just calling him a crow at this point. Maybe fix his suit to match so there’s less awful traffic light.”
            “It would be a great public service,” Chat added as he wrinkled his nose. “who makes a child a traffic light.”
            “Apparently the donor.”
            “Donor needs fashion advice.”
            “Can’t, he’d try to ruin mine with a god-awful color scheme, and I refuse.”
            Chat snorted at that. “So, these guys… where do we stand?”
            Marinette hummed. “Sent the ‘not trusting them at all’ back already… I say we keep Robin for now and figure out what the hell made him think murder is okay and if its still encouraged then…”
            “Then we do a ‘this is my many times removed relative who lives here now?’”
            “No. I tell Gina, she gets the documents ready, and then I introduce him as my bio mom’s cousin’s kid and tell them he’s staying in paris and wants to connect.”
            “You do realize his mother probably has a stance on this.”
            “Shhh, cousins.”
            “Shhh, someone is bound to notice.” Chat countered, shaking his head.
            Okay, would gotham notice a Wayne missing? Probably. Would they really try to look for him is the question… and how easy would it be to fool them if they did find him? Maybe have Trixx help with Markov?
            “I doubt he uses social media, so low chance there. He thought everyone knew the language of flowers… I think either he was taken from a cult, the bats are a cult, or both.”
            “I’m leaning to both, why else would he be that level of offensive to fashion?”
            Marinette snorted at that. She has met many fashion disasters that never needed a cult as an excuse.
            --
            Batman was… nervous.
            Wonder Woman was giving him and his kids (minus Damian. Who has not made contact with them yet…) a series of looks that he knew meant trouble.
            “In our defense,” Dick began.
            “There is a baby bat in danger, what were you expecting?” Stephanie continued.
            “And you were the one that thought we should be ready for any contingency,” Tim added while clinging to some unholy combination of energy drinks.
            “Little sister. Needs help.” Cass tacked on. “We help.”
            When eyes turned to Jason, he only gave one explanation: “Kid facing city-wide drownings regularly, brainwashed buddies daily, and superpowers, and extra overt terrorist targeting the kid. What were you expecting?”
            Tim snorted at that. “Me thinks he forgets he taught us how to bend and break rules.”
            Stephanie nodded from her location. “We weren’t told it was no bats, just no Batman.”
            Diana glared at Bruce.
            “By the time I checked their trackers, they were turned off and no longer responding to their communicators.” he had a feeling Agent A or Oracle may have helped them… but no proof.
            Jason rolled his eyes. as they did have a ‘Bat-free’ set of comms—a set of phones they changed just enough that Bruce couldn’t keep track of them and relented to a ‘civilian only’ cells that he would not track, tap, or try to under threat of Babs.
            “We are very independent,” Tim added as he drank his questionable concoction. Bruce didn’t even ask where he got it from at this point.
            Wonder Woman narrowed her eyes. “I am making this clear now—you are not to approach, contact, or even look into Ladybug, her identity or her city’s issues without her explicit permission. Am I clear?”
            There was grumbling from his kids.
            “Crystal,” Batman answered. Once Diana seemed satisfied for the moment, he decided to ask. “Have you heard anything about Robin?”
            Diana paused. “Not yet. When Ladybug has what she needs, she will likely send him back, or ask to keep him in a location she deems secure until this matter has blown over.”
            Bruce didn’t like that. At all.
            His kids didn’t either, each readying for a fight.
            Diana could tell what they were thinking. She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Given Ladybug’s age, and that now two of you,” she cast a glare at Jason, “Have threatened her and her team in the mask, I doubt she will be very trusting. Nearly being killed by fellow heroes is not something one gets over very quickly.”
            Tim rolled his eyes. “She’s a bat, give her like, two, three weeks tops. You get over it.”
            Diana shot Bruce, not Batman, but Bruce a look.
            “I was lost in the time stream when that happened.”
            Diana rolled her eyes.
            “To be fair,” Dick added, “Damian has tried to kill most of us at first, me included, but you get used to him.” At Diana’s eyes getting wider, he backtracked. “He’s gotten a lot better since we worked on the Robin code and he’s working on his own. Top of his list was apologizing to those he wronged just… didn’t do it the best way.”
            Tim snorted. “Speak for yourself.” He got a lot of photography equipment and Redbird back… plus a few other things as Damian’s form of apology. The only one he wasn’t that big on was the ‘I will invade your hideout to ensure you are resting properly’ no matter how many times he said he was on black out. It didn’t help that Dick encouraged it and Jason had already been doing that. The only ones who gave him breathing room was Stephanie and Cass, which is why they are his favorites.
            Dick sighed. “He used flowers and weapons on the girl for two years.”
            Diana twitched at that. Ladybug had been twitchy because she thought she was being watched. That… didn’t bode well.
            Bruce made a pained sound. “Please tell me he left a note.”
            “He didn’t.”
            The bats did what they have a habit of doing during these situations. Look at each other, sigh, and maybe drop their head into their hands in shame. Mentally of course. Externally they can’t—gotta keep up appearances and all.
            Jason broke the silence. “So, who’s turn is it to fix it, because not it.”
            “You were disqualified before this started.”
            “Not it!” Stephanie said quicklying.
            “Not it,” Cass agreed.
            “I got it the last time, not it.” Tim added.
            “Batman you were already disqualified,” Diana stated before Dick could avoid being it.
            “Why is it always me?” Dick wanted someone to explain why he’s in charge of every other Bat’s problems. He loves them, he loves helping them, and Damian is his Robin (Bruce can fight him on that, he knows that was Bruce is for himself, he is to Damian).  But it would be great if someone else did this too. “Can’t Babs help?”
            “Who’s taking care of Gotham again?” A voice said over the intercom. “My birds.”
            Dick sighed. “I get it. But I can’t do much from this end.”
            Diana whistled to get the bats to stop. “He will handle this himself.”
            The group shot each other looks. In theory he could, in practice… they wanted their contingencies, okay?
            --
            Marinette transformed and went into the portal, this time with Chat at her side. she noticed the shadows started to move once they got in the temple… she’d need more information on that another time.
            “Behave.”
            Chat rolled his eyes. “Don’t I always?”
            Marinette narrowed her eyes.
            Chat looked away and went into the room from before. Green Lantern had taken to checking up on Robin while they were gone.
            “Should I be worried?” Green Lantern asked.
            Ladybug raised an eyebrow at Chat. “Probably not.”
            She could feel Green Lantern look at her.
            “This isn’t going to stop until he thinks the threat is gone…”
            “Ah.”
            Ladybug glanced between Chat and Mur—Damian. Damian. Damian who had the worst murder apology tactic in history. (Seriously, flowers and weapons. What the hell?)
            Chat walked up to him. “Not going to apologize for protecting my Lady.”
            Robin didn’t seem insulted. “I would have to remove you as her partner if you did.”
            Ladybug almost choked. Shadows were moving more.
            Green Lantern sighed.
            Chat glared. “Well you can’t.”
            “I will not as you have proved to at least have a functional brain. Your skills leave much to be desired, but you are at least capable of adequately protecting my sister.”
            The shadows were settled at least… for now.
            “Why you little!”
            “Robin!”
            “Chat!”
            “What—he started this!”
            Ladybug sighed. She had a feeling these two weren’t going to get along anytime soon.
            “Is that enough for you to get he doesn’t want me dead or anything?” Ladybug asked Chat, keeping an eye on the shadows.
            “For now.”
            “Chat.”
            “Well we don’t have any leverage.”
            “She knows who I am.”
            “What.”
            “I checked.” Ladybug admitted. “He is who he said and I’m sticking with ignoring the implications for another time.” Robin was smiling a bit. and not the murder-y one that haunted her nightmares sometimes. Good. What was she saying? “Oh, and I may have figured out Hawkmoth, but uh, consequences to that reveal would hurt a lot of people if we go in how we wanted to initially. So, I need to work out that plot since telling you may set off the shadows.”
            Chat crossed his arms. “And who is it?”
            Ladybug wanted to rub her temples. But Professional Time. “We both know you and Bunnix have your own things you don’t tell me about things that would be good to know but not good for me specifically. And that’s fine, it keeps Paris safe and our team from having internal issues. So trust me on this kitty. I’ll tell you before it happens. But it will be a lot closer to it happening than you’d like. Just like our usual.”
            Chat… wasn’t happy about that.
            “…fine.”
            Robin watched the exchange. He wasn’t sure if it was a good thing to offer at the moment, but…
            “Would it be acceptable if my family offered to help?”
            Green Lantern gave him a look.
            “You have seen our credentials.”
            Ladybug wanted to scream again. just a bit.
            “I have a way, probably, and am not in the mood for American take-overs.”
            Robin thought for a moment. “I could ask mother. She won’t tell father if I ask.”
            “And we trust that why?” Chat asked, shadows not dancing off his suit... but not still either. Interesting… she’d really have to look into this with the scrolls when she gets a chance.
            “Mother and Father have… fundamental disagreements.”
            Chat and her looked at each other, then Damian. They had a feeling he wasn’t telling the whole truth.
            “And how do we,” Chat gestured at himself and Ladybug, “know we can trust her. I barely trust you.”
            Robin was quiet.
            Ladybug was tired. “Look, I can see if maybe the League is a good fit for this.”
            Green Lantern looked up at that. “Batman would find a way to access it.”
            Ladybug took a deep breath. “Not that one, uh, League of Shadows. Old branch that went rogue, but leader is an immortal and was supposedly a top choice for Black Cat for a while.” Until his partner got caught in a trap on a mission and sort of ended up becoming some death cheat. Ladybugs and Black cats are always trained in pairs. One is unfit, the other can’t continue with training. Not that the Green Lanterns needed to know that…
            Robin was staring at her, and seemed… no felt nervous. Not showing it though. “Then you’d be meeting mother or Grandfather then... They go by the League of Assassins now.”
            What even is her luck at this point? (Probably his first cult, and ancient overzealous ally of the Order… she was beginning to think it’s a good thing its going to be rebuilt from the ground up as yikes.)
            “Is it acceptable if I accompany you? They’re not,” Robin was struggling to find the right word. “good with heroes or non-adults.”
            Ladybug sighed. Chat narrowed his eyes, but his shadows were staying put.
            “You can stay until after the meeting and plan is hashed out, but no passing it on to Batman, okay?”
            “Understood.”
            Why did it feel like she had a million things to do still? This would be much easier if she had her team, well, whole, instead of missing two miraculous. One of which she still had to fix… she hopes Sparrow is okay with helping on that still…
            And she has a damn test tomorrow… Maybe Mandeliev will give her extra time since she was made news as Marinette being stalked by Robin?
            ---
DONE! This was a long update, and Damian and Marinette are awkwardly trying but uh, understandably, Marinette still has a lot going on and no time to process since her life is a mess with or without the Bats invading. Lets not forget, she still has tests at school because life on top of the crazy that’s been tacked on recently.
Oh. And apparently Talia wants to be involved, so that’s a Thing. Rah may or may not want to show up, I kind of just roll with it. feel free to add to insanity as always, since the group decided to tie up somethings... but not everything.
Marinette may know, but batfam doesn't. only damian does. who is still not back.
Also, thanks to those noticing plot hole fixes and tags are basically open until its a wall of tags.
again, if anyone find out how to insert/add a readmore, feel free to message or leave a comment.
TAGS:  @heldtogetherbysafetypins @laurcad123 @raisuke06 @chaosace@jeminiikrystal @toodaloo-kangaroo @kris-pines04 @bisha43rbs @izang @dreamykitty25 @emu-lumberjack
124 notes · View notes
merlin-emrys-wyllt · 2 years ago
Text
Gauis considers the question for a moment, "well I'm not really sure where Merlin would have you begin, for me it would be learning the languages of the spells you want to learn most. Old English is the most popular here, it's what Merlin uses, along with the language of the Druids. Then there's Homeric Greek, and Old Irish". He pauses to take a sip of his tea before continuing, "Merlin would probably have tou start with something practical though, maybe learning to see or feel magic in all things, or something like that".
Merlin nods, "magic is a tool like any other, depending on the wielder it can be used for good or for evil". Merlin technically already knew about Morgana, but he's unsure if she has magic in the reincarnation or not. If she's having dreams though it's likely she does have atleast some magic.
Arthur has a slight frown on his face as some hazy memories appear, he can't really make anything out though. Merlin goes to say more but feels like someone is watching him, he pauses with a frown and looks behind him noticing someone he hadn't seen in many years. They make their way over to Merlin with a small smile on their face, their eyes are golden with magic.
Tumblr media
Merlin stands up with a grin, "Kilgharra!" He hugs the man tightly for a few minutes, "it's been so long!" The man chuckles, "yeah it has, uh... I go by Kilian now, helps me blend in easier". Merlin nods, "that's a good idea, though the eyes still kind of stand out". Kilian raises an eyebrow at him with a grin on his face, "you really want to start that?" Merlin chuckles and holds two hands up in the air, "no no I've learnt my lesson mate".
Kilian snorts and then glances around the table at everyone, his eyes resting and lingering on Arthur fro longer than the others. He then turns back to Merlin with a grin, "I felt a shift had to come and see it for myself". He then adds a little quieter, but some of those at the table would still hear him, "and give you a warning".
Modern Au setting
Arthur reborn AU starter
1,480, that's how many years Merlin had been awaiting Arthur's return. He'd given up hope several years ago, but then he'd found Gaius, and later Lancelot and Gwaine. This gave Merlin hope that he was returning, it had been 5 years since he'd found them again though. The trio hadn't remembered Merlin at first, he'd had to remind them who they were, thankfully it hadn't taken too long. Now the three of them were working in a museum.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Merlin was working as a tour guide for the Arthurian part of the museum, with Gaius working the stock. Gwaine and Lancelot are both guards of the museum. In the museum there's some paintings of Arthur, his crown and throne, and Excaliber inside an anvil sitting ontop of a stone (people are allowed to try and pull the sword from the 'stone'.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Arthur had indeed been reborn, to a corrupt Lawyer called Uther. He owns his own Lawyer firm, all of the Lawyer's there are corrupt. Arthur is training to become a Lawyer just like his father, he's at College with his best friends Perciful and Leon, and his girlfriend Gwen. Today they're going on a trip to the local museum.
Merlin is in the room with the sword and the stone, waiting for anyone who might want some information from him, or a tour. He did love doing the job, it allowed him to give people actual factual information about the time period, but it could also be boring at times. He yawns and stands against the wall at the door to the room, a walkie talkie connected to his hip, when Y/M walks in. He smiles at Y/M and greets them cheerfully, "hello!" But doesn't make any move to show them around, incase they want to be left alone.
//who is Y/M? Perhaps they work at the museum, or are they one of the college students? Or someone else? They can be whoever you want them to be
53 notes · View notes
infinite-xerath · 3 years ago
Text
Runeterra Retcons: Ruination Episode (Prologue)
Prologue Part I
You stand before the remnants of the Sentinel base, taking in the sight before you. Looking past the crumbling architecture and growing moss, you can see the echoes of dignity that this place once possessed. Now, however, it stands empty and silent, devoid of life save for the insects, birds and slugs. You call out, but no one responds. Finally, it becomes obvious that any chance of joining the Sentinels of Light here is long gone.
You stare at the ruins for a little while longer before turning to walk away. As you approach your boat on the beach, however, you notice another vessel drawing closer. Two figures step out from the craft and begin making their way up the beach.
“Those outfits… Are you two Sentinels?”
“Halt! This is the headquarters for the Sentinels of light!”
“Um, hello? Mind if I catch a ride?”
Lucian: “Well I’ll be. Looks like we were right to come here.”
Senna: “We need to speak to the one in charge here. Where’s your commanding officer?”
“Gone, along with all the other Sentinels.”
“I’m not sure. This place was abandoned when I got here.”
Senna: “What? Then you’re the only one here?”
“Yeah. Sorry about that.”
“Not for much longer. This place is a dump.”
Lucian: “Great, just great! We come all this way and all we can find is one damn Sentinel?”
Senna: “What’s your rank, Sentinel?”
“Rank? I don’t exactly… Have one.”
“I’m kind of new here, so…”
Lucian: “Oh, great! The kid’s a rookie, too!”
Senna: “Enough, Lucian. Listen close, Rookie: right now, there’s a Harrowing on the way bigger than any we’ve ever seen before. Like it or not, no one’s leaving this island until we drive them back.”
“Woah, hang on! A real Harrowing? I did not sign up for this!”
“Oh, finally! Here I was, worried that I wouldn’t ever get to see some action.”
Lucian response 1: “Suck it up, Rookie! You’re a Sentinel, so this is EXACTLY what you signed up for. Wait, where’s your weapon?”
Lucian response 2: “You’ve got spirit, Rookie, now let’s see if you can back it up. You know how to use that weapon, right?”
“Um…”
“I don’t have one. I thought I’d receive one here, but…”
Lucian: “Oh, for the love of-”
Senna: “No time for talk, here it comes!”
Prologue Part II
The Black Mist rolls up onto the shoreline. From the haze, countless malformed creatures emerge, moving toward you with murderous intent. The sight sends a chill down your spine, but Lucian and Senna respond calmly with a torrent of light from their weapons. Their movements tell of years of experience, each shot carefully aimed to tear through the onslaught.
“Wow…”
“I almost feel sorry for the monsters.”
As you watch, transfixed, a shadow looms over you. You turn and see that hulking undead figure with several faces has raised its claw, preparing to strike you down then and there.
Senna: “Look out!”
Senna fires a blast from her Sentinel gun that seems to go right through you, blasting a hole in the monster’s chest. Rather than harm you, however, the light seems to invigorate you.
“What just happened?”
“I didn’t know Sentinel weapons could do that!”
Senna response 1: “No time, Rookie. If you can’t fight, then get inside the base and take cover!”
Senna response 2: “Most can’t, but there’s no time to explain. Get inside the base and take cover, Rookie!”
You start to do as told, but you quickly see that your path is blocked by howling wraiths. The undead have you completely surrounded.
Lucian: “Senna, a little help over here!”
Senna: “Lucian, hang on!”
Dread begins to wash over you as you realize how hopeless the situation is. Outnumbered and with no way to fight back, the wraiths start to close in on you. Just as they’re about to reach you, though, something cuts through the Black Mist and strikes down the undead before they can reach you.
???: “Are you quite alright? That must have been quite the fright!”
“Thanks! You really saved me there.”
“Uh, not to sound ungrateful, but who are you?”
“Uh, is that… A giant pair of scissors?”
Gwen: “Oh, pardon my manners! My name is Gwen, but we haven’t the time to talk now! Quickly, we must get you inside!”
Before you can think to respond, Gwen grabs your arm and pulls you along, leading you into the remnants of the old Sentinel base.
Prologue Part III
Gwen: “Ah, so this is a Sentinel base? I must say it’s rather drab in here.”
“Uh, thanks again for saving me, Miss Gwen.”
“Wait, we have to go back! The others are still out there!”
“Yeah, it’s kind of a dump.”
Gwen response 1: “Oh, you’re very welcome! Now then, if you’ll excuse me, I believe your friends require some help as well, no?”
Gwen response 2: “Yes, quite right! You just wait here where it’s safe, and I’ll see to them.”
Gwen response 3: “Well, regardless, it seems that the undead do not wish to enter. I should go and find your comrades to bring them in as well.”
With that, Gwen rushes off, charging back into the fray. You watch from the entrance as she slashes apart the undead with her giant scissors and pierces them with floating needles. Around her, a peculiar mist seems to form that repels the Black Mist around her. Eventually, Gwen vanishes from sight, though you can still hear the sounds of battle from the shoreline.
“…Whelp, time to sit back and relax until they sort this out.”
“Damn it… There has to be something I can do to help.”
You looked around the Sentinel base and notice a peculiar table in the center. Inspecting it closer, it looks to be a map of Runeterra, carved out of Relicstone. A peculiar object rests on top of the table, shaped like a key with a small orb at the end. Curiously, the objects begins to glow, almost as though calling out you.
You reach out and clutch the object in your hand, lifting it from the table. You then notice that a portion of the map seems to be glowing in response: the small island where your base is located. Cautiously, you bring your weapon closer to the table. The two seem to thrum in unison together, before both going dim. Then, the building starts to shudder…
Prologue Part IV
The shaking stops abruptly. All around you, ancient markings in the walls start to light up one-by-one. Then, in a flash, you see the entire island outside consumed by golden light. In a massive pulse of magic, the Black Mist is dispelled and the markings return to normal.
“…”
“What… Just happened?”
“Woah… That was awesome!”
You hear footsteps behind you and turn to see Lucian, Senna and Gwen walking into the base.
Lucian: “Rookie, you mind explainin’ what in the many hells you just did?”
“Honestly? Your guess is as good as mine.”
“What makes you think I did anything?”
“Just how many hells do you think there are?”
Senna: “Hang on, Lucian. He’s not the only one we should be questioning”
Senna turns her attention to Gwen.
Senna: “Thanks for helping out back there, but just who are you? You’re not a Sentinel, and those scissors aren’t Relics, but they cut through the undead just the same.”
Gwen: “Ah, I suppose I should reintroduce myself properly this time. I am Gwen, the Hallowed Seamstress, at your service! A pleasure to make your acquaintances!”
“A pleasure to meet you, too!”
“What’s with that weird mist you can summon?”
Gwen response 1: *Giggle* “I’ve heard a great deal about the Sentinels, and how you devote yourself to fighting the Black Mist! I’ve come to offer you all my aid.”
Gwen response 2: “Ah, you mean the Hallowed Mist? Truthfully, I’m not entirely sure myself. I suppose you can say I was born with it.”
Lucian: “Hmph… Well, right now I’d say we could use all the Sentinels we can get. It ain’t exactly standard procedure, but you weren’t half-bad out there, Scissors.”
Gwen seems delight to receive the praise, but before anything else can be said, the map in the middle of the room starts glowing again.
???: “Hello, is anyone there? This is Sentinel Fetu of Buhru! Please, respond!”
Prologue Part V
You and the other Sentinels gather around the table as the image of a strange man flickers above it.
Fetu: “Ah, good, it seems we weren’t mistaken. That’s odd, though… I thought the old headquarters had been abandoned.”
“What’s going on?”
“Is that another ghost? How did it get in?”
Fetu: “Not the brightest relic in the vault, are you? Hard to believe that you would be chosen to use the Wayfinder.”
Lucian: “Wayfinder? You mean the Relic Rookie’s got there?”
Fetu: “Bah, don’t they teach anything at the other outposts these days? Alright, listen closely: that Relic you have there? It is the Wayfinder, a very special and ancient Sentinel tool. It has the power to link itself directly with the Nexus crystal in the heart of Sentinel bases. Nexus crystals, as I’m sure you are aware, are conduits for magical power.”
Senna: “So that explosion of light earlier, that was from Rookie using the Wayfinder to link with the base?”
Fetu: “Aye, but that’s not all it can do. The Wayfinder also has the power to connect to the Nexus crystals of other bases, allowing instant transport between them and communication across vast distances. That is how we are speaking now.”
Gwen: “My, what a versatile little took you have there!”
Lucian: “I’ll say. Definitely not something that should be in the hands of a greenhorn.”
Fetu: “Unfortunately, that is not your call to make. It is said that the Wayfinder chooses its wielder, and can only be used by the one to whom it is bound.”
“So… I’m its chosen wielder?”
“The Wayfinder chose me… What an honor!”
“So it’s less of a weapon, and more of a multitool?”
Lucian: “Ah hells… You mean to tell me that no one but this kid can make use of it?”
Fetu: “Hmph. The Wayfinder is strange with its choices, but perhaps this is a blessing in disguise. No one has been able to wield that Relic in ages; that it awakens now may be our one hope of overturning this nightmare.”
On the map before you, you see much of the land being overtaken by darkness.
Senna: “Damn it… He’s growing stronger.”
“Who’s growing stronger?”
“I… Assume that’s bad?”
Lucian response 1: “The Ruined King. The guy responsible for the Black Mist and the Harrowings. Right now, he’s spreading his damn mist all across Runeterra, and if we don’t stop him, it’ll be the end of life as we know it.”
Lucian response 2: “You don’t know the half of it, Rookie. A Harrowing this big can only be the work of the Ruined King. If he’s not stopped, that darkness is gonna take over the entire world.”
Fetu: “Then it’s as we feared… Listen closely: the Black Mist is at our doorstep, and we cannot hold out for much longer. Soon, this Sentinel outpost will be abandoned, meaning that it is up to you all to stop this calamity. Use the Wayfinder, travel to the other Sentinel outposts and recruit as many of our comrades as you can. If Runeterra is to survive this Harrowing, we must stand united! We must-”
The image vanishes and Fetu’s voice goes silent. You and the others all stand around and stare at the map for a moment before Gwen speaks up.
Gwen: “Oh dear. I hope he’s alright.”
Senna: “If he is, maybe we’ll meet him again one day. Right now, we know what we have to do.”
Senna turns and stares at you.
Senna: “Looks like we have a job to do, Rookie. Fire up that Wayfinder.”
“Yes, ma’am! Where to first?”
“Geez, I wasn’t expecting all of this so suddenly, but I guess I can’t back down now. Where do you guys wanna go?”
Lucian: “Demacia. Looks like the Mist is all going there, which means there’s a good chance the Ruined Creep’s there too. If we take him out, this whole nightmare’ll be over.”
Senna: “It won’t be easy, but with more Sentinels on our side, we might just stand a chance. You ready, Rookie?”
You nod solemnly, clutching the Wayfinder closely. Though not what you expected, it seems the time has come for you to partake in your first proper mission as a Sentinel of Light.
3 notes · View notes
k7l4d4 · 3 years ago
Text
Midnight Striga: Fairy Tail/Owl House Cross Fic Episode 5 Part 5
Hello, and once again, I come before you with another piece of Midnight Striga!! Everybody Clap Your Hands!!
“U-Um, Luz? Do you… know these guys?” Willow nervously asked, flinching away from the chuckling group surrounding them. Amity was confused, but wary, while Gus was torn between fanboying over the humans and panicking. Several were brandishing weapons and tools, while others were gesturing with faintly glowing hands.
“Unfortunately.” Luz growled, hands pressed together to cast. “Let’s just say that they’re a problem from back home.”
The largest figure, still cloaked, chuckled at that. “Oh Blinder, you always did say the sweetest things.” They hissed out. They flicked off their cloak, the sight underneath sending the Witchlings reeling back, Luz’s eyes narrowing in hate. 
The man was tall, Six feet and several inches easily, a rippling hulk of muscle. What was most eye-catching, and more than a little horrifying, was the state of his body; the tones and types of his skin were different shades, held together by stitches, screaming faces sewn into the body, contorted in agony. Extra limbs were attached haphazardly across the body, with the ‘arms’ in particular actually being multiple arms and hands forcibly bonded together. The head was misshapen, the jaw awkwardly bulging on one side, the pupils of his eyes slit, screws jammed into the scalp with blood leaking from the puncture sights. The cheeks were torn, crudely sewn back in place. The man opened his mouth, a skinless serpent slithering out in place of a tongue.
“You were rather naughty, Blinder, running away from your brothers and sisters as you did.” The snake hissed, acting as the brute’s voice. The figure blinked, before clapping it’s patchwork limbs together. “Ah, where are my manners!? I haven’t introduced myself.” A deep rumbling chuckle echoed from him, setting the Witchlings’ nerves on edge. He bowed slightly, a mocking leer across his face. “Reticulus Creeve, at your service. I look forward to integrating your remains into my masterpiece.” He said, gesturing to the patchwork monstrosity that acted as his body.
His faux-pleasant expression fell, and he turned to his troops. “Kill all but the human, she is to be captured. Afterwards, you are to raze this location to the ground and kill every being you come across not affiliated with Oroboros.” He said in a disinterested tone, before jumping into the rafters above, cackling in the twisted, hissing voice.
“Tch, bastard’s still underestimating me.” Luz bitterly muttered. She turned to the chuckling troops before her; none of them looked like anything other than goons, random thugs who had been brought in to pad the numbers. Still, if they were part of the Black Dog Squad, then they were more than willing to commit the atrocities Reticulus had ordered. “Well,” Luz sighed, “at least you guys will be a good warm up.”
“Luz?” Amity questioned, her eyes widening at the light building in Luz’s palm.
“Light-Make: Wolf Pack!” She shouted, her constructs pouncing on the Black Dog agents surrounding them. With savaging jaws, they lunged for their prey… only to be turned back when one agent stepped forward.
“Air Rot!” He shouted, a black haze emitting from his palm, the wolf constructs crumbling on contact. Turning to them with an ugly smirk, the agent reared back his fist. “Palm Rot Pulse!” A bullet of compressed miasma rushed the group, only to be intercepted by Amity’s abomination. Acting on the agents’ brief confusion at their resistance, Willow summoned her vines, slamming them into the circle of agents and sending them back.
Willow turned her eyes towards the others. “Run!” With that, the group bolted, ignoring the curses and shouts from behind them. Screaming started sounding all around them, figures wearing the same uniforms as the agents who had surrounded them attacking the Covention goers. “Look out!” Willow shouted, summoning her plants to block a bolt of flame launched their way.
“Shit!” Luz bit out. “Light-Make: Spears!” In a flash, a dozen spears ripped through the air, impaling an agent standing over the cooling corpses of a pair of Covention goers, a man and his wife from the looks of it.
“Bolt Zone!” “Hail Shot!”
Eyes widening, Luz shoved the others away, a scream ripping through her throat as lightning slammed into her from above, and a chunk of ice crashed against her back, sending her flying.
“Luz!” Willow yelled, only to scream in pain herself as a bolt of flame slammed into her back. Turning, she just barely caught sight of Amity sending her Abomination after her attacker, she could barely see through the pain. Growling, Amity directed her Abomination to defend them, splitting its arms to intercept as many of the strange spells flying their way as it could, its amorphous body acting as an excellent barrier against attacks.
Luz flipped herself onto her feet, a spell already forming. Gritting her teeth against the pain, she called out. “Light-Make: Daggers!” A pair of blades formed, and she launched them, a grim smirk forming as they found their mark between the eyes of the agents who had attacked her. Dropping to a crouch, she spun, spells already forming. “Light-Make: Halberd!” She swung the massive, bladed polearm she now bore, catching two more agents by the ribs, the way the first folded around the blade indicating she had severed his spine, or at least chopped deep into it. Turning to the others, their jaws dropped at the sight of her actions, Luz’s eyes widened at what she saw. With a shout she leapt into the air, aiming for Amity.
Amity’s eyes widened. Was Luz going to attack her!? What was even happening!! The Covention was being attacked, that… thing from before somehow knew Luz and wanted to capture her and kill the rest of them, and all the invaders, and Luz herself, were wielding magic completely unlike anything within the Coven System! As Luz descended, Amity braced herself and her Abomination, only to relax as she saw Luz’s trajectory would take her roughly behind Amity… behind her!? Whirling around, Amity just barely caught sight of the maliciously grinning figure, arm reared back with a knife in hand, before Luz drove a glittering sword through the top of their skull. “Oh, so that’s what you were doing.” She muttered numbly, flushing at Luz’s raised eyebrow.
“Phew! Looks like we’ve got some breathing room!” Luz sighed, relieved at the break. She opened her eyes to find the group huddled close to her face, staring. “Uh, you guys mind backing up a little?”
“How did that sewn-up pile of parts know you!” Amity demanded.
“What is going on?” Willow asked in a calmer tone of voice.
“Since when are humans super scary!?” Gus begged to know, near hysterical.
Luz frantically pushed them back. “WHOA WHOA!! Guys, give me a little room!” After they backed off, Luz sighed. “In reverse order, humans have always been scary, we just usually aren’t, these guys are here to kill everyone to send a message to the leaders of the isles, and to make a very long, painful story short, I used to work for them until I decided I’d had enough and left.” Luz bluntly summarized. The group was shell-shocked, which Luz figured was fair; she just did drop a massive bomb on them after all.
“Wait a minute, kill everyone here?” Amity demanded. “That’s impossible, the Emperor’s Coven has guards stationed everywhere at events like this!” She insisted. Sure, those humans had displayed magic unlike anything native to the Isles that she was aware of, but they had just caught them by surprise!
Luz’s eyebrows rose into her hair. “Well they haven’t been much of a deterrent.” She stated, gesturing to a nearby corpse. As the others peered closer, they pulled back as if burned; it was the mangled corpse of a Coven Guard, one melted away, chest ripped open, and head crushed against the ground. After gazing upon the dead guard, the Witchlings’ eyes were drawn to the area around them, horror dawning upon their faces; dead Witches and demons, everywhere. A woman and her child, ripped open by what looked like giant claws. A man cowering in a corner, his flesh melted from his bones. And many, many more.
“Why?” Willow croaked out, tears in her eyes. “Why are they doing this?”
Luz stared, eyes filled with sorrow and weariness. “Like I said, they’re here to kill everyone. Them,” she gestured to the corpses, “You,” She pointed at the three, “Me,” she aimed her thumb at herself, “everyone.” She finished with a shrug.
Amity perked up at that, puzzled. “Wait a minute, that… thing from before said to take you alive. Why would they be trying to kill you?” She asked.
Luz snorted. “Yeah, he said that. That doesn’t mean anyone would listen.” She sighed. “These guys are the Black Dog Squad, the absolute worst of the worst in Oroboros, in terms of morals and self-control at least. All of them are rapists, sadists, and murderers of the highest order. They weren’t chosen for this mission because they’re powerful, even though some of them very much are, but because they are vicious and will do anything without regret or remorse.” She turned hard eyes on them. “Reticulus is a sadist and a bully, most of these people are. If he gave the order instead of capturing me himself, it means I’m not a priority. If one of them catches me, great! I’m caught and the poor sap who thought it would get him a payday becomes a volunteer for Retic’s experiments. If they don’t, then they all die, or I’m dead, along with everyone else.”
“Speaking of that, just what was up with his body!?” Gus hysterically exclaimed. “If everything you told me about human anatomy is true, not that I doubt you, then how is he even alive!?” He shouted, pulling at his hair in fright.
“He uses Flesh Sculpt, a form of magic that allows the wielder to alter and mold flesh and living material however they wish.” Luz explained gravely. “Retic took that and ran with it, harvesting body parts from victims on a murderous rampage to build himself the ideal form; nobody knows how much of his original body is in that thing, not even him at this point, and he’s ALWAYS looking to add to it.”
Amity paled. “So, wait, when he said about integrating our remains…” She trailed off, the three turning green at the thought.
“Yup.” Luz said flatly, her face just as green at the thought as theirs. “Guys a real sicko.” She pulled herself to her feet. “And I’ve got to go stop him.” She said grimly.
“””What!?””” The three exclaimed.
“As long as these guys are here, everyone is in danger. I’ll go after Reticulus and his goons, try and slow them down, and you all get as many of the civilians to safety as you can.” She said firmly, jaw set.
“Absolutely not!” Amity shouted. “Did you not see the size of that monstrosity?!? If you go after him, strange magic or no, you will be dead!”
“And that’s a price I’m willing to pay.” Luz said coldly. “As long as Oroboros has a foothold in the Isles, no one is safe. If dying is the price so that this place can live, I’ll gladly pay it.”
“Oh, so it’s okay for you to sacrifice yourself, and not let us help?” Amity snapped. She leaned in, grabbing hold of Luz’s collar. “In case you’ve forgotten, these Isles are our home. We have a right to defend ourselves. It doesn’t matter what you say, I can’t speak for them,” she glances at Gus and Willow, before turning back, “But I refuse to run away and let someone else fight when I can do something.”
“And the same goes for me.” Willow said firmly, drawing surprised looks from the others. “I’ve been letting myself get pushed around for years, never speaking up or trying to change things. But Luz, you helped give me the courage to try and change things! Now that I can, I’m not just going to let people get hurt.”
Gus stepped forward, throwing his hat into the ring. “I don’t really have as many selfless bones as Willow, but she’s my friend. If she’s staying to fight, then I’m gonna help.”
Luz glanced around, recognizing the stubborn intensity in their eyes. She groaned, dragging her hand down her face. “Ugh, fine. You all can help.” She glanced up as they cheered. “But promise me, if things get dicey, you’ll run, and help as many people you come across to run as well, okay?” At the round of hesitant nods she received, Luz reciprocated. “Okay, let’s go!” And with that, the group turned on their heels, marching towards the chaos, the screams of the dying and the afraid ringing in their ears.
Skara shuddered, nervously backing away from the strange man in front of her. The strange man who had just killed a COVEN GUARD RIGHT IN FRONT OF HER AND HER FRIENDS!!!! She took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. “Now, now, you shouldn’t do anything hasty!! You’re going to be in a lot of trouble for that, you know? When more Guards come, they aren’t going to ask you nicely now, right?” She hated the way her voice quivered, the way it kept doing when she had been afflicted by that jewel, when she tried to reason with her.
“Freeehehehehehe!! Moooorre Guards? Mooooorre bodies to play with!?” The strange man drawled, the cloak obscuring his body jiggling oddly. “Ooooooohhhhh I bet they’ll taste so yummy!! Soooooo much meat!! Yuuuuuummmmyyyy meat!! Freeehehehehehehehe!!! Iiiiiiii had better get changed then! Doooooonnnn’tttt want to ruin my cloak with food stains.” With that said, the figure tossed his cloak into the air, multiple other cloaks following suite throughout the crowd. The figure… was horrific. The body was horribly misshapen, the sheer amount of fat present should’ve had the figure at least twice as wide as they currently were. Skara stared in disgusted fascination at the oily sheen to his body, the way his flesh rippled and rolled with every movement, as if his entire body was gelatin held in a man-shaped skin. Pitch-black eyes set deep into a face that was just as fluid and gelatinous as his body, an uncomfortably wide and toothy mouth set into a perpetual smile (Skara hoped it was supposed to be a smile), and his nose was essentially gone, a ring of distinctly teeth shaped markings surrounding the missing chunk.
“Freeeeehehehehehehe!! Moooorrreee guards! Mooooorrreee meat!!” The distorted lump of fat squealed, eyes focused on Skara. “Ooooohhhh it will be so tasty!! Buuuutttt… What's even tastier than the men I kill, are the kids I kill. Aaaaaannnndddd what’s even tastier than the kids I kill…” He leaned in closer, the rotting scent of corpses wafting off his breath. “Are the pretty, pretty girls I kill.” Without another word, the slob lunged forth, jaw stretching open a mind-bogglingly large six feet, ready to swallow Skara whole in a single gulp. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t-
“Move it!!” “Demon King’s Rocking Roar!!”
Two things happened in that instant before Skara became the grotesque people-eater’s meal; first, Boscha, who had come out of nowhere, had shoved her clear of the kill zone, and some kind of magic was pinning the fat glob in place. At the sight of his body depressing into the ground, so tightly Skara could see bones against his skin, she figured her guess about him being mostly fat was closer to the truth than she’d thought. Suddenly, Skara became painfully aware of the panicked, screaming crowd around her. Boscha turned a burning glare Skara’s way; she suddenly felt very, very small.
Boscha jerked her head towards the group of their, or, rather, Skara’s friends. “Get her out of here.” She bit out. Skara’s heart sank even further at the cold tone. There… really was nothing left between them, was there. She didn’t protest as Cat and Amelia dragged her on, as the crowds roared and screamed as they tried to pry the doors open, people dropping to the ground as the strange figures who had come in cloaks picked them off. What was the point in saving a useless life like hers? No point at all.
“King, let him up.” She said, voice cold as winter ice. King mutely complied, getting clear of Boscha’s attack range. This was going to be ugly. “Hey! Fatso!” She called out, prompting the figure to pop up from the ground, that damn smile still stretched across his face.
“OOoooohhhh you know our name!?” He cheerfully giggled in that disgusting voice of his. “Hooooowwww strange! Weeee didn’t think we’d told you yet.”
“Wait, Fatso is your actual name? I was just trying to insult you!” Boscha exclaimed, briefly distracted by the odd being in front of her. She quickly shook her head, clearing it of confusion as best she could. “Wait a minute, that’s not important!” She shouted. “What is important is that you just tried to eat someone, and murdered a Coven Guard!! Just what the fuck is wrong with you!?”
Still giggling, the man, Fatso apparently, refused to answer, instead lunging forward with that freakishly large jaw of his. Biting back a curse, Boscha leapt back, barely clearing the now missing chunk of stone that the fat freak had ripped out of the ground, swallowing it whole. “Ooooohhhhh, nice and earthy, like yummy veggies!” He cried, lunging again. “Yooooouuuurrrr yummy meat will make a nice addition to this meal!!” He squealed, fleshy limbs lashing out, trying to pull Boscha to his waiting maw.
“Like fuck!” Boscha shouted, flames bursting into her hands. “Try and eat this, you psycho!” She hurled the flames forth, grimly expecting screams of pain to howl forth; what she wasn’t expecting was for the maniac to actually eat her flames!!! “WHAT!?!?”
“YYYUuuuuuummmmyyy, spicy flames!!” Fatso giggled, cheerfully gulping down Boscha’s attack. His eyes honed in on Boscha again. “Gggiiiiivvveee me more!!!!” He screamed, leaping towards her, jaw expanding to chomp down.
3 notes · View notes
namjoonspiration · 4 years ago
Text
ON [3]
Tumblr media
Pairing: Jungkook x reader
Rating: M
Word Count: 7.7k
Summary: Jungkook’s life in the Citadel after everyone escapes is revealed. Later, you have an unfortunate encounter with a Death spirit named Hoseok; however, it leads you to the right place at the right time.
Warnings/Tags: violence, imprisonment and torture (again, not too hardcore because that’s not the point of the story), pain, escape, destruction, heartbreak, trauma
Author’s Note: Sorry, I lost track of the days, but I meant to post this earlier because the last chapter was so short. Anyway, I decided to rate this chapter M because this chapter consists of depictions of torture, imprisonment and pain that is up to the viewer’s discretion whether or not to read that material. As always, enjoy!
Masterlist
Part 3
Year 3049 – 388 years after the Fall of the World
“Haul that weevil to his feet!”
Hands harshly clawed and gripped under Jungkook’s arms. He groaned in pain and was drug up to eye level with the menacing Lead Governor. Blood dripped down the man’s—no, monster’s—arms and face, painting his skin to show the truth of who he was. A murderer. How many Mages did he manage to slaughter tonight?
“You brat!” The red monster hissed, spraying spittle in Jungkook’s face. “Do you have any idea what you’ve just cost me? Cost this city?” He raised his knifepoint to the young Mage’s throat. Fresh, hot blood transferred from the sharp metal to under his chin. “You kids had it good. Fed, sheltered, clothed, unharmed, vouched for by that fucking old bag, Michael!”
“Doesn’t matter,” Jungkook replied lowly. “You took us away from our families, our home. Don’t think that because you’ve tricked yourself into thinking that you’ve provided for us, it excuses you and this entire damned city from the atrocities you committed against my people.”
“I’d hold your tongue boy. You are, after all, the last Mage in the city. You are quite outnumbered.”
“Yeah? What are you going to do about it?” Jungkook smirked fiendishly. “Lock me up and throw away the key? Make me grow plants for the rest of my life?” He began to laugh humorlessly. The fucking irony. Despite the endless heat of the outside, his blood was cold in his veins.
The Lead Governor let out his own grin, one that promised cruelty.
And there it was. Two worlds in a universe of darkness and pain, challenging each other to do their worst.
“No.” He said at last, eyes searching the Mage’s face for any sign of fear.
He would find none. Jungkook was not afraid of this sad excuse for a man of power. There were only two things to be afraid of—the darkness and Hell. When he died, he would not be going to Hell. As for the darkness… he’d stand a better chance against it then these cowards.
Get ready to start losing everything, old man. Your time is starting to run out, Jungkook’s heartless eyes told him. But deep down, he was glowing with pride. He was glad you had escaped and were probably far, far away. If he couldn’t save himself, he was happy he had saved so many and given them a second chance at life.
“I’ve got a special place reserved for you where you’ll be more of use to us. I’ve already got a few ideas… Big ideas.” the Lead Governor smiled in triumph. He may have lost all of the Citadel’s Mages, but this one. Jungkook had just proved to be a valuable asset. “Take him down to level Five. This brat needs to be taught a lesson before we move forward with reconditioning.” The black guard who’d taken him down replied in affirmation, signaling the soldiers to take Jungkook away.
Jungkook tried to tap into his magic, but he was severely weak. Whatever was on that guard’s blade had his magic writhing in pain, screeching like a wounded animal. The loss of his magic made it feel like he’s lost the ability to walk. He betted that his magic would heal soon. He’s a dead man to the Citadel without it, and they wanted him alive for whatever sick plan of theirs. Whatever it was, he wouldn’t be participating. At least not voluntarily.
They drug him back down to that cold, wet dungeon, but they passed the level that he’d been living on for the past 10 years of his life. He was taken to a much darker part of the seemingly endless levels down, down, down stone steps upon steps to where the light of day does not touch. Metal hinges creaked, and the black guards unceremoniously tossed him into a cell. Jungkook slid across the slimy dungeon floor littered with straw. They yanked harshly on his arms, ripping his shirt off and clamping too tight manacles around his wrists that immediately dug and rubbed his skin raw. Suddenly, he was lifted up by those manacles, chains—black like oil—attached to them and to a flywheel the guards turned until his toes were left touching the ground. His shoulders barked in pain, but he gritted his teeth, refusing to scream in front of these monsters.
He finally got a good look at those black guard. Humans, definitely. Dressed in all black from the top of their head to their toes. He could barely make out a thick meshy material where their eyes, nose and mouth would be. They looked like cloned shadows.
One of them approached him—the same one that took him down. The guard held the knife covered in Jungkook’s blood and poked it sternly against his chest threateningly. Jungkook’s magic shook in his veins at the feel of whatever it was that coated that blade. His magic may be afraid, but he wasn’t.
“You won’t break me,” Jungkook hissed. “One day, I will walk out of this Citadel with it burning to the ground behind me. That’s a promise, and I always keep my promises.” His breathing picked up, chest puffing out with the increased ventilation. His body was preparing for whatever torture his jabs were about to bring him.
The guard snorted and reeled his bladed hand back. The metal sliced cleanly in an arch from the Mage’s right collarbone to left hip.
His magic began screeching inside of him again, shying as far away as it can from the armed man. Jungkook’s body went limp at the pain, too exhausted to let out any cry. Sweat dripped down his face, mixing with the dried blood that remained there from his head wound. He looked brutal—like he’s already been through several beatings, but no one has managed to break him yet.
Distantly, he heard himself letting out breathless laughter. His soul was moving farther and farther inside himself until he didn’t even know what was happening to him; what he was doing what day it was; how old he was.
He thought it went on for years. He was beaten too many times to count. They kept him chained up at all times and subdued his magic regularly with those poisoned blades. However, even though his magic refused to express itself whenever he was conscious enough to will it for simple levitation practice—to see if his magic would want to come out at all—it grew and grew like a ball of fire. Every year that he could older, his magic got stronger and more powerful. He had to release his magic, or it would burn him alive.
When he couldn’t coax it to express itself, he would wait and wait and wait. His magic started with simple hiccups, and then turned blasts of energy hitting the guards and walls around him, for which earned him more beatings and days without sunlight. Until the Lead Governor heard about these outbursts.
He realized then that he could brandish Jungkook into a weapon. Not just one against the darkness outside, but against neighboring civilizations that proved to be a nuisance to him and the Governing Circle. To test the Mage’s abilities, he would send haggard-looking people down into the dungeons for execution by the Mage’s fire.
Jungkook vehemently refused. He would not kill innocent people. The Lead Governor tried to convince that these people were criminals who plotted against the well-being of the Citadel. Jungkook didn’t give a shit even if it were true and continued to refuse the Governor’s orders. However, it did not stop him from getting what he wanted. He knew Jungkook’s magic was a ticking time bomb. Even if Jungkook refused to burn those people himself, his magic would do it at some point. And despite Jungkook’s efforts to suppress his magic, it did exactly what the Governor wanted. Even so, they dumped Jungkook outside in the harsh sun for endless hours afterwards as punishment for his insolence.
He never knew where he was in the Citadel. It was seemed like a different place every time. He could never get his vision to focus on his surroundings due to the glare of the light against his eyes, which were starved of any kind of light for weeks—months? So, he’d lay in the sunlight and try to pretend he was somewhere else beyond the Citadel. The white of the light allowed him to imagine a greener place with blue waters and chirping birds. And you were there too, smiling at him, waiting for him to join you in that peaceful place. Before he could join you, he was dragged back to his small hell deep below the earth, where the darkest parts of his mind would take over his heart.
He thought to himself, I’m merely a tool, useless without a wielder. After about the second or third round of these executions, Jungkook was convinced he lost control of his magic. If he couldn’t keep it from burning people alive, what could he possibly do? The Lead Governor now controlled his magic. It performed those executions. It was the thing the Lead Governor treasured above you. Jungkook was merely a vessel—one that took the magic wherever the Lead Governor willed it.
Nonetheless, his magic became more and more volatile. Jungkook couldn’t control the bursts of power that now escaped from him several times in a single day. At first it made him sneeze, like he had a cold, but it quickly morphed into the kind of power that cracked stone walls. Several of the guards posted outside his cell had been roasted to a crisp one particularly bad evening. Even the Lead Governor began to receive a healthy dose of fear at the news. However, it meant the worse for Jungkook.
The Lead Governor entered his cell one day—he wasn’t sure of the date—with a “present” for him.
New shackles.
Except those weren’t any ordinary shackles. These were made of twisted wood covered in inch long black, metal thorns. When they exchanged the shackles on his wrists, Jungkook’s spirit lifted for mere seconds the metal chains he’d had on his wrist for so long clanged to the ground. But that sweet taste of freedom was short-lived and replaced with a new layer of hell that he could not hide from.
The tips of the thorns were bathed in a fluid of the same family as the poison that liked to use to make his magic tremble and whimper in his blood. The barbs pierced his skin constantly, drawing out a steady stream of blood that pooled on the cracked stone floor beneath him. The Governing Circle had hoped that by draining his blood it would release his magic steadily, like a running faucet, in hopes that it would control the outbursts.
They couldn’t have been more wrong. Jungkook knew it wouldn’t help. They could drain him of his blood, but it could not drain him of the anger and fire in his veins. Every day, his mind screamed vengeance. One of these days, those motherfuckers would pay for taking everything away from him and locking him up like a dog.
And when that day came, it sounded with a piercing chorus of hundreds of screams.
Year 3061 – 400 years after the Fall of the World
A ravaging sickness overtook the Citadel. It started as a simple flu, but it mutated into a paralyzing virus that started at the limbs and made its way to the heart and lungs, where it eventually froze the ventilatory muscles and cardiac muscles that kept one alive. No one knew the cause—the contagion.
It drove the citizens into a complete frenzy, praying to whatever god might still be listening. Sacrificing goats and chickens and spilling their blood into the ground in an effort to appease the dark forces that are on the horizon. They blamed the sickness on the approaching darkness. The Governing Circle assured the people they had a plan to drive the darkness back; however, many people wanted to migrate East, but they simply couldn’t pack up the city and leave. They grew impatient with the Governors and decided to take matters into their own hands, protesting outside the Governors’ Assembly Hall, even being driven towards pillaging it.
Somehow, one individual had discovered the dungeons that had molded with age, but still held one last Mage deep, deep down within its walls. He was drug from his cell—still half asleep from the drug-induced haze from the poison.
“Get up! Get up! You must go!” Jungkook heard the cracked voice of an old man. “Wake up!” Cold water suddenly doused Jungkook, and it broke him out of his haze. It was Michael. “Now is your chance to go!” Michael hauled the Mage to his feet and up the dungeon stairs.
“Why?” Jungkook’s voice came out in a weak breath.
“I’ve done a lot of wrong in my life. I won’t atone for it all, but I won’t let a victim of my sins die a meaningless death after living a enslaved existence.” The old man explained as he used every last bit of his strength to get Jungkook up the stairs.
Sunlight slowly crawled into his vision, willing the muscles in his legs to stand him up on his own legs. His body propelled him forward towards that light, feet pounding up the stairs and hallways.
Fresh air filled his lungs, invigorating his body and bringing his mind to the present.
He was finally outside. He was finally being freed from the grave he’d been living in for so long. People stood outside of the Governors’ Assembly Hall and along the pathway that led to the gates of the Citadel. They were shouting at the Governing Circle perched on the Hall’s balcony, cursing at them, begging them to let people leave so they had a chance to survive. Only a few noticed Michael dragging the shackled Mage towards the Gates.
“Stop! Stop!” Jungkook knew that voice, and it sent his magic skirting away from it. The Lead Governor. “You can’t let him go! He’s going to protect us!” Jungkook turned around and saw a shell of the red monster he remembered him to be. His muscles had atrophied significantly, leaving his skin hanging of his bones. His eyes were hollowed and shaky as he descended from the balcony to stand in front of the Mage.
Shit… How many years has it been since he delivered the thorned shackles to him?
“Look, look! He’s going to help us! Our weapon against the darkness,” he pleaded, stumbling forward on his weak limbs. He smiled at the Mage, “Show them what you can do,” and pointed at the pile of rotting bodies on a wagon, dead from the contagion. “Burn them,” he commanded. The Mage remained without reaction for several tense moments before gesturing to the shackles on his wrists.
“I can’t very well do that with these on.” The Mage deadpanned.
The Lead Governor’s face morphed into that of the red monster the Mage knew so well. “Trickster! Useless brat!” He spat at the Mage, kicking a hard boot into his chest. The Mage was knocked to the ground from the surprising force of it.
“Shut up!” A burly citizen yelled. “You told us you eradicated the Mages two decades ago to keep the darkness away! But you secretly hide these Mages for your own benefit, and it ends up killing all of us!”
“No, no! I was trying to help us!” He exclaimed.
“The Mages are a curse to the Earth! It’s time they paid for the treachery they’ve brought upon this city with blood!” The giant man grabbed the Mage by a fistful of hair, baring his throat to the sickle he held in his hand.
The last thing he saw was the burning flames in the Mage’s eyes before he was incinerated to ash. The Mage’s magic had burst from his veins and out through his hands—his fingertips and where the shackles pieced his skin. The Mage roared in pain as the poison tried to rip through the fire shooting from his hands. Fresh blood began to stream down his arms.
The sickle clanged to the blood and ash covered ground where the man once stood. The Citadel had fallen silent with terror at the Mage who so easily had destroyed one of their own. The Lead Governor began to laugh hysterically, “See, see, see! I told you what it could do! That magic can protect us!”
The Citadel erupted into shouts and hollering. “Protect us?! Are you insane?”
Suddenly, another citizen stepped forward with a rifle. The moment the safety clicked off; the flames erupted from the Mage’s hands once again. Except it did not stop so easily this time. The fire burned the man and his rifle into ash and liquid melt. It reached beyond to the tightly packed houses and shacks, to the clothed bodies lying on the street, and to the fiendishly cackling shell of a man.
By the time the flames ceased, the Citadel had become more like the hell Jungkook had grown used to. Sheer panic and fear as flames licked across the city at a rapid speed, engulfing everything in its raging spirit. Humans battled for the last of the weapons and resources. Blood began to stain the soil.
No one dared try to battle him. Not even as he began to sprint towards the gates. The stone giants boomed before slowly splitting apart to reveal a barren outside world. He quickened his strides to a full-on sprint. The people around him became blurs, the outside world becoming his only focus. With every step, the thorns in his restraints dug further into his skin, but he couldn’t stop now. Freedom was so close he could taste it.
20 meters.
10 meters.
5 meters.
And then he passed through the gates… and kept running.
Jungkook ran and ran and ran, looking back only once to bestow a final goodbye to his previous home and living hell.
His long-standing promise was fulfilled.
….
He didn’t know how long he ran for or how far, but he didn’t stop until the Citadel was long gone behind him. At one point, he came upon a wooded area and quickly figured there must be water there.
The poison from the shackles was starting to get to him again; the adrenaline rush from running out of that place was wearing off. Blood dripped from his hands, creating a trail behind him. He cursed at himself for not demanding removed these infernal things from his wrists.
Soon, the world began to tilt and blacken around the edges. Jungkook’s legs gave out from under him, and he toppled into the grass. His breathing slowed, body feeling the pull under until he was too exhausted to fight it anymore and passed out under the burning sun.
….
“Ya!” You snap the reigns on the horse, which took off towards the direction of the oasis to collect more herbs for Namjoon and for the trading expedition you were about to embark on at the last meet. A merchant came by the camp yesterday, swearing that he had heard the sound of the Citadel’s gates opening. It sounded like giants stomping on the Earth’s floor. You can’t miss it. It was the first news you’d heard in over a decade. There had been sporadic reports of the Citadel open and closing its doors up until two years after you escaped. After that… nothing.
You didn’t need any further proof. You would be on the road tomorrow before the sun was up, combing the routes for any word of the Governing Circle and the last Mage that remained in the city.
The silver-haired warrior’s words rung in your head constantly. That Citadel is a locked box, probably to never be opened again. No one decided to take the chance on launching another attack again. There was no simple solution how to get past those walls. You tried not to dwell on that too much, instead focusing your energy on how to possibly infiltrate the Citadel through its trade routes. You’d tried several times to track down Citadel merchants, who seemed to come out once in a blue moon, but by the time you got to the trading market or their camp, they’d disappear into thin air.
Your jaw sets in frustration.
The horse suddenly begins to step from foot to foot in anxiety, making noises of discomfort. You break out of your thoughts and hush the horse, stroking its chocolate brown coat. Coaxing it to continue forward with soft nickering, you peer beyond the trees in front of you as the horse slowly crosses over the oasis’s soft green ground.
That’s when you hear it.
High-pitched cackling and giggling—like a kid who has just won a carnival game.
Quietly, you slide down from the horse and tie it to a nearby tree. You fish through the pouch on the side of your saddle and grab a handful of what you needed before slipping through the trees to get a closer look at the jubilant being. And it was as you expected.
A death spirit.
He is dancing about a lying face-first in the grass. The death spirit is chanting a low and gibberish chant, kicking and poking the body, which remains unmoving. You suspect the person was nearly dead, judging from the spirit’s merry attitude and the fact it hadn’t started sucking the soul from the body.
You learned about these life-hungry demons from Namjoon years ago, when he warned you about their presence in these wooded areas and oases. Many people liked to come to these places to die in peace, so death spirits knew they could find their next meal here. Unfortunately, for you, it meant dealing with them somewhat regularly when you needed to get supplies for the doctor. He hated sending you out here, but you stood a better chance against them than he did. Namjoon encouraged you to get rid of them when you could.
You step out from behind the billowing trees, cautiously approaching the death spirit. “Be gone, malicious spirit,” you command, “You have no place here.”
The death spirit whips around, eyes wide in surprise, before he cracks back into laughter. “Haha! It’s my lucky day! I haven’t had two souls to eat in one day in centuries.”
“You must go demon! I’m not planning to die today.” You spare a quick glance at the body that lied several feet away from you. You see the faint rise and fall of breath. “And it appears that neither are they, so you shouldn’t be here to collect yet.”
The spirit whines and stomps his foot, annoyed that you ruined his meal.  “He’s almost dead! Just a little while longer…” Its grins broadly in unadulterated excitement, but it looks more fiendish than innocent. The death spirit turns to the body, watching it like it was a ticking clock.
You take a moment to scrutinize the death spirit. It wears clothes from the Old Word that were rarely seen nowadays—a white t-shirt with basketball sneakers and matching dark jean jacket and pants. It is much younger than most of the death spirits you’ve encountered. It was probably no more than twenty-five when it sold its soul to the Devil in hopes of gaining power over the human race—a large reason why the world fell, you came to learn. The price when that power ran dry: Its soul would wander the earth forever, starving for the souls of the dead and serving anyone who called upon him.
“That’s too bad, spirit. It’s time for you to go.” By the time, it turns around, you throw a handful of ground sage at its feet. The spirit yelps, but the sage merely dusts its shoes. More of the sage lands on the body and the grass surrounding it.
The death spirit cackles. “You foolish girl! That can’t kill me.” It dustes the sage off its sneakers. “Almost dead…” he mutters again before extending a finger to poke the body again. A shield of force knocks the spirit’s hand back. It gasps in surprise before banging his hand against the air again but getting knocked back repeatedly. “Ah!” It screams in frustration. “You’re dead now!”
You didn’t expect the spirit to move with such swiftness, slamming you up against a tree and pressing his forearm against your throat. You push against him, trying to keep him from stunting the blood flow in your neck with his arm. Your mind scrambles for a plan, a solution, an idea. Then, it hits you. “Spirit, what do you want?”
Instantly, the death spirit backs away. “What do I want?” He repeats, confusion lacing his tone.
“Yeah. What do you want? If you leave me and the body alone, I’ll grant you a request.” You explain with a soothing tone.
He laughs. “What could you, human, do for an old, powerful spirit such as me? Give me a sack of potatoes? A prayer to save my soul?” He continues to laugh at you.
“I’m not a human. I’m a Mage.”
This piques his interest, eyes alighting with delivery. “A Mage,” he considers you, eyes looking you up and down. “Alright, I’ll bite. But that doesn’t excuse you from what you are to owe me. Two bodies, two requests,” he olds up two fingers on each hand for emphasis.
“How about one request, and I won’t call upon you to serve me?” You retort.
“HA! You don’t know my name! It’s still two requests, now hurry and agree or I might just get impatient and call it off. That body gets closer to death every second you waste, and I’m really hungry.”
“How do you know I don’t know your name?”
“Because I haven’t told you, of course! Don’t get smart with me, or you might end up dead before he does!” The spirit jabs a finger in the direction of the body.
“I think you should be careful with your threats,” you warn lowly.
“Oh?” He raises an eyebrow, clearly amused with your gutsiness.
Well, how about this for amusement? “You shouldn’t threaten your future master… Jung Hoseok.”
His face falls, becoming pale very quickly. “I—I didn’t even tell you my name!”
You smile with bitter sweetness. “Yes, you did Hoseok. Didn’t you say not but a few minutes ago, ‘You genius, Hoseok! This barren world has nothing on you Hoseokie—all powerful, great Jung Hoseok!’” You repeat his earlier chants back to him, and his scowl deepens. He dares a step toward you, and you raise a finger, “Uh-uh. You play by my rules now, spirit. We either make the deal on my terms or you remain tethered to me. Your pick, Hoseok.”
“Fine.” He bites out.
“You get one request of what you want, and then you leave me and that man alone. That’s the deal. Do you agree?”
“Yes.”
“Excellent.” In an afterthought to yourself, you could have used this to get him to let you both go, and he gets away with nothing. However, you didn’t plan on keeping this death spirit tied to you. It was a cruel joke, and you didn’t want some random man appearing out of nowhere during your daily life. And if you release him from servitude without so much as some benefit, he would still be sticking around for the day of your death to collect your soul. That definitely wasn’t on your list of things to do. “Alright, then. Jung Hoseok, what do you want?”
He casts his gaze downwards in thought, swiping at the grass with the bottom of his shoe. When he stills, you assume he thought of something. What you didn’t expect was the sorrow that darkens his features—a stark contrast to his earlier bubbly appearance. “I want,” he starts. “I want something that would make me happy.”
“You’re going to have to be more specific, Hoseok.”
“You didn’t say I needed to. Besides, I’m a death spirit. How would I know what would make me happy?” You groan in frustration at his response, which earns you a triumphant smile from him.
“I release you from service,” you state firmly. It is worth a shot.
“Thank you, sweet Mage. However, that didn’t make me particularly happy. Not the kind of happy that I was talking about.” Suddenly, the cackling fiend is back, and he’s clearly getting a kick out of testing your patience. “I’ll tell you what Mage… For being clever and a good sport, I’ll let you and the almost-dead man go. I still want my happy thing, and I’ll give you three summers to find it.”
Great… Another thing to be worried about. You have absolutely no idea where to start, and you didn’t get a chance to ask him questions that might clue you in before he waved goodbye and disappeared. “Just perfect,” you mutter, brushing off your clothes. You look around the area to be sure he was gone, and you are reminded of the near-dead man lying face-down in the grass.
“Shit!” You rush over to the man’s side and heave him onto his back. The first thing you notice are the horrid shackles around his wrists—thorns piercing mangled, dark pink flesh. You move to find a mechanism to remove them but touching them burns you and sends your magic scrambling far away from those infernal things. Dried blood coats his hands and forearms. His skin is ghostly pale—a sign of having one foot in the grave. But these shackles couldn’t simply be the reason he was dying. You gently touch and run your hands over his torso, searching for any mortal wound, but finding none.
You run your fingers across his scalp, looking for any head wounds like how Namjoon taught you. You found none, but that’s not what struck you. It was the hair itself—so dark, so soft, so… familiar. The feel of it sent the deepest part of your memory scrambling for a match. You turn his face skyward, wincing at the thick, deep scar that ran from his hairline down to his right cheek. A number of other scars litter his face, marring the fullness of his cheekbones, slopped nose, sharp jawline and pink lips.
All of it so handsome and familiar.
You choke on a sob, tears flooding your eyes and falling down your face. You stroke a gentle hand across the side of his face, cradling his head.
“Jungkook?” You whimper. Was it really him? Was he really here? If so, how did he get here, and why was he so close to death? You had to know if it was him, and there was only one way to check. Sniffling, you rip up his sleeve, instantly spotting the matching tattoo you had on your forearm.
Three evenly striped lines—a symbol every Mage was required to have while living in the Citadel for identification. However, your people had learned to take pride in it as it knit you all together and made you a family.
Oh my god, it was him.
“Jungkook,” you call him name, firmer and louder. “Jungkook! Jungkook, wake up!” You grasp his shoulders and pat his cheek in attempt to get him to open his eyes. “Open your eyes!” You check his pulse and to see if he’s still breathing. Weak pulse and even weaker breaths. “I’m not letting you go when I’ve just found you,” you hiss.
Doing the only thing you know might work, you lay your hand on his cloth-covered chest and take a couple deep breaths. Your magic presses up against Jungkook’s chest under your hand, searching and waiting for his to find yours. “C’mon, c’mon.” He didn’t have much time left, but you couldn’t focus on that. You had to coax magic forward.
You think of the serenity around you—the birds chirping in the early morning sun; the trees rustling and whispering to each other; the softness of the green grass under you; the trickling of the water over river rocks. You think of the time you spent together as kids in the village and as teenagers in the hidden corners of the Greenhouse to eat stolen fruits and vegetables. You think of first and last time he kissed you; the softness of his lips and touch, seeking for more but never too greedy. Always incredibly gentle.
Despite the cold shade of Jungkook’s skin, warmth begins to radiate from him under your hand. Your face lights up with hope. His magic is coming forth and responding to yours. You bite your lip in concentration, calling out his name in your mind for him to come back.
He is safe and here with you.
He is safe and here with you.
He is safe… with you.
Jungkook’s eyes flutter open, gazing blearily on the light blue sky above him. He draws in a deep breath, chest inflating under your palm. “Jungkook?” It takes him a few moments, but then he finally turns his head to see you.
“Y/n?” His brown eyes spark with recognition, but his voice conveys that he wasn’t really sure if you are actually here.
“Yes, it’s me. I’m here, and I’m going to help you. You’re going to be alright,” you try to reassure him to spark some life back in him. You push his short hair from his face, so he could see you better. Despite your words, he still seems so distance, like he was teetering between life and death—between one and zero.
“It hurts,” he whimpers roughly. Suddenly, his breathing becomes rapid and he begins to squirm under your touch. “Get them off. Get them off!” You track his gaze to the shackles. You begin to panic. You couldn’t touch them, but he is in so much pain, and he might go out again from it alone. Your hands dove for the wooden shackles again, but you couldn’t handle it for more than a few seconds before it sears into your skin. You cry for Jungkook as you can’t imagine how much pain he’s in, how long these damned things have been on him.
He is writhing, like a demon had just gotten possession of him. Fresh sweat dampens his skin as he keeps crying out for help. My god, you have to get him to Namjoon, he has to help. You scramble to your feet and run back for your horse. Ripping the pouch off the saddle, you dumped the contents and clamber for the little green vial.
Once you find it, you dive back to the place behind Jungkook’s head and spill the contents of the vial onto your hands. “I’ll make it stop, Jungkook, I promise,” you say, although it is drowned out by his screams. You cup the back of his neck, and his screams cease immediately. He relaxes, the oil sending him into a calm, numb state. “Don’t worry, Jungkook. I have you now. I’m going to help you.” You let out a sob, wiping your face on your shoulder.
Pull yourself together, y/n. He needs your help.
“I have to get him to Namjoon,” you say to yourself. With purpose, you rush back to your horse, untie it from the tree and bring it back to Jungkook. With the aid of your magic and all your physical strength, you pull him up onto the saddle in front of you. Mounting the horse swift, you rest Jungkook back against you before snapping the reins and riding back as fast as you could to the camp.
Namjoon. He’ll know what to do.
….
“Namjoon! Help! Come quickly!” You shout. He comes tripping out of the clinic, but thankfully doesn’t fall.
“What is it? What happened?” He shouts back.
“Help him! These shackles are killing him, and I can’t get them off! You have to get them off right now!” You grunt as Jungkook’s body falls, dead-weight, into yours when you pull him off the horse. “Help me, Namjoon, dammit!”
He breaks out of his thoughtfulness as to examine the situation and helps you haul Jungkook inside to a hospital bed with significant strength. Inside, he runs for a serrated knife and sticks the blade in the oven’s fire. Once the blade was white with heat, Namjoon grasps the wood carefully to hold it in place while he saws through them. Despite his efforts to hold the shackles still, they shift with every quick back and forth of the sawing.
Jungkook begins to stir with the activity, whimpering. Fresh sweat coats his forehead “Hurry Namjoon!”
“I’m trying. I’m halfway through.” He tries to encourage you, but it’s taking too long, and Jungkook is starting to hiss and pant. No doubt those thorns were shifting and digging even further into his skin from the movement of the blade. Any more time wasted on trying to saw it open—
It was going to kill him.
“Move, Namjoon!” He dives out of your way as you lunge for the partially split shackles. Your fingers brace against the serrated edges from the sawing, the contact already burning you. With a scream, you bring forth every bit of magic you have and break the infernal device cleanly the rest of the way through. The thorns tear themselves from Jungkook’s skin.
You lift the shackles from his wrists, fresh blood and bits of flesh drenching it, and you throw it against the stone wall with great strength. You cry from relief when the shackles finally leave you, hissing at the burns on your hands.
“Y/n!” Namjoon calls.
“What the hell is happening?” You distantly hear Taehyung yell through the ringing in your ears.
“Help, y/n,” Namjoon instructs. “She’s burned her hands.”
Taehyung grabs the topsides of your hands, not touching the burns, and uses his magic to send a cooling sensation to ease the pain. His face flickers with disbelief at his magic quivering in fear, “What is this?” You knew what he meant. Whatever was on those shackles left a residue on your hands, and Taehyung’s magic could sense it.
You look over at Jungkook to see he’s stopped moving again. “Namjoon, did he pass out?” You watch him check for a pulse. When he nods, relief sags your shoulders. “It appears so. He won’t die, don’t worry. I think he’s finally getting some rest.”
The good news breaks your heart all over, bringing your mind back to the many questions you had about those shackles. How long has he had those on? You knew the Citadel had put those on. What other place is there out there that would do this to a Mage? What other sick and twisted things did they do to him?
You begin to cry again. Taehyung frowns and moves you to rest your head on his shoulder. He rubs a hand up and down your back to soothe you.
Silently and swiftly, Namjoon disinfects and bandages Jungkook’s wrist, which were covered in pierced holes and mangled, ripped, scarred flesh. Some color had started to tone his skin again. Namjoon cut Jungkook’s shirt off to examine for more wounds.
You gasp, horrified. Your breath leaves your body in a rush at the sight of Jungkook’s torso covered in scars of all different shapes and depths. You feel your stomach turn and bile rise in your throat. Taehyung grips you harder when your knees buckle. “Get her out of here,” Namjoon directs at Taehyung. He even sounded sick. Shaking his head, willing himself to focus, Namjoon hands Taehyung a tin can. “She can’t be here for this, right now.”
Taehyung nods and pulls you up, supporting your body weight against his as he takes you out of the clinic and back to your little house.
In there, Taehyung lays you down on your bed roll in the back room. You continue to sob quietly, wincing when you try to use your hands to push yourself to sit. “Here.” Taehyung opens the tin and scoops out generous amounts of cream to slather on your burned hands. “You need to rest. I’ll stay close by if you need anything.”
He starts to leave to sit outside your house, but you stop him. “Wait. You come wake me if anything happens to him? Right?” Taehyung nods, and you let him go.
It takes a while for you to shut your eyes at all, and when you did, it is only for a few hours. It restores your magic and energy a little bi—enough to get you on your feet to go back to the clinic. Taehyung catches you outside your house, but you reassure him that you’re good now. You notice that it’s almost well into the evening, so you send him off to check on his sister and go to dinner.
Back in Namjoon’s clinic, he’s writing down notes frantically at his desk, not wanting to forget a thing. “Hey,” he greets softly. “How are your hands?”
You examine them, seeming how the skin already looks less red and irritated. “Much better. Your medicines are like magic.”
He shrugs. “I try my best. Your magic is what makes you heal much faster though. It harmonizes with the natural properties of the plants I use.”
“How is he?” You ask, watching Jungkook rest peacefully. He is curled up on his side, cheek squished into the pillow.
“His condition has improved greatly as well. Physically, he’s going to be alright. Emotionally, mentally…” He trails off. “It’s like how I explained to you when you first arrived at the camp. A person can have many internal wounds, and it will take time for that person to heal.” His words hang heavy in the air, reminding you of the reality you now have to face.
He’s not the same Jungkook that got left behind 12 years ago. He’s scarred and broken on the outside, and there was no doubt in your mind that the inside might very well look the same.
You can’t imagine what the Citadel was like for him. All alone. The last Mage.
He must have been punished severely for taking part in the escape and aiding in saving every other Mage. Saving you. The survivor’s guilt settles back in after so long. It had faded with time, but its resurfacing had returned with even more guilt for the fact she had failed to do anything to get him out of there.
Namjoon sees your face crumple as those thoughts circulate in your head. “Y/n.” Your eyes meet Namjoon’s. “Do you know him?”
You nod, gaze weighed down by sorrow and happiness all at once. “This is Jungkook.” Namjoon’s eyes widen in recognition of the name. You had told him several stories about your best friend. “It would seem he just escaped from the Citadel. Fuck,” you curse, squeezing your eyes shut before opening them. You let out a shuttering breath. “He was in there all by himself for twelve years.”
“Those shackles he had,” which where thankfully nowhere to be in sight, “I studied them with another Mage while you were gone. It appears those only affect Mages, not humans.” Which would explain why when Namjoon touched them he didn’t hurt; why those things were the perfect weapon for the Citadel. “Those thorns were coated in a poison from a herb known to be dangerous to Mages. It was rumored to be called the Witcher’s Sage. It was destroyed with the Old World, but it appears there is still some floating around out there.”
Natural silence falls between you until Namjoon’s stomach growls. “You go eat. I’ll watch him for a little bit.”
“You sure?” A simple question, not a doubt of capability.
“Yeah. I’ll be fine.” Namjoon heads out of the clinic as you take a seat across from Jungkook’s bed.
He looks so much livelier than when you found him. Body rising and falling with even breaths, and face relaxes in slumber. His skin returns to that natural beautiful tan tone you remember. Despite the scarring on his face, you can see through them to his handsome features. Of course, long gone were the remains of baby fat around his face that were there the last time you saw him.
He’d grown into a man. He looks so much longer, like he sprouted another half a foot in height. His bones grew bigger, giving him broader shoulders and thicker arms and legs. Although he was imprisoned, the Citadel must have kept him fed. Muscle still remains on his body, albeit larger in volume than they were twelve years ago, but he was still very lean. You’d venture to say he is wavering towards being a low normal weight for his age and stature.
You brush the uninjured back of your hand lightly against his shoulder, needing to feel him. He didn’t even stir the slightest. You wonder if he is dreaming. A part of you hopes he isn’t so he’d get a deep, restful sleep while another part of you hopes he is dreaming of happy things.
You have no idea how he is going to react when he wakes up, but you know that you’d be here to help him heal from the trauma. There were going to be good days and bad days, but it isn’t anything you couldn’t handle. It would be a while longer before you could see if Jungkook still saw, or even remembers, you as his best friend and lover, but you could wait for him because you never stopped loving him any less ‘lo these many years.
32 notes · View notes
masterweaverx · 4 years ago
Text
Nora Valkyrie is one of the most engaging characters in RWBY, because she’s always engaging with other characters. And as much fun as she has doing so, especially with her hammer, you’d be forgiven for thinking she’s just another boisterous bruiser genki girl hybrid. But when it comes to Dungeoneering, Nora ain’t nobody’s fool.
When coming up with this build, I found out that I had a lot of goals I wanted to kit. Obviously Nora wouldn’t be complete without her Legendary Boomhammer, so I needed a way to let her blow things up and smash things to bits. I also needed to figure out how to represent her skills at scavenging, I don’t think she lost that from her early days. And of course, she needs to be fun but able to lecture people about their emotional constipation at a moment’s notice.
This all led me to an interesting realization: Nora’s highest stat would have to be Wisdom. It’s the ‘notice things’ stat for a reason, so 15 points go into it. And next, after some very careful consideration, I figured 14 points of Dexterity would be good to handle some multiclassing requirements. 13 points in Constitution fits her prodigious appetite quite well, and 12 points in Strength gives her hammer a little extra oomph. Admittedly, 10 points in Charisma doesn’t quite fit with how bold a personality she has, but for all her boldness she’s only pressed her opinion when it absolutely needed to be pressed. And that leaves 8 points for Intelligence, which is booksmarts, which... Nora’s not dumb, but she didn’t really have a formal edumacation.
Variant humans are a bundle of nice little goodies, like two Ability points to even out Wisdom and Constitution, a free skill training so Nora can learn Survival, and a feat of choice--the Fell Handed feat is perfect for a hammer-wielder, giving a +1 to all attack rolls with the hammer, a chance to knock an enemy prone if the attack has advantage, an equal chance to deal Strength damage on a miss if the attack has disadvantage, and the ability to knock away an enemy’s shield if Nora is helping somebody else attack them. I mean not many people use shields on Remnant, but the option is there.
As for background... sigh. The background’s name is Urchin. Sorry, that’s just how it is sometimes. Nora gets proficiency in Stealth, Slight of Hand, Thieves’ Tools, and Disguise Kit. She also gets the City Secrets feature, which means she just knows how cities work and can find shortcuts anywhere. Is it the most useful skillset? No. Is it in character? Mmmyah.
Now, I looked at Barbarian for Nora. I really, really looked at it. At the Rage feature. At all the subclasses. And in the end... I decided we could get what we wanted without having to give up casting, just through careful application of other classes. So no, Nora isn’t a Barbarian. She’s four levels Hunter Ranger, eight levels Zeal Cleric... and first and foremost, 8 levels of Kensei Monk.
Yes. Monk. You heard me. Nora is a Monk. This will make sense shortly.
Monks get proficiency in simple weapons, and also shortswords (but we’ll be multiclassing into Ranger so we get proficiency in all martial weapons anyway). They can also choose one set of Artisan’s Tools or one Instrument to be proficient in; Chibi Nora was apparently good with drums, buuuut realistically I kinda think maybe Nora would be better served with Leatherworker’s Tools. They get Strength and Dexterity saving throws and, oh yeah, two skills--Athletics and Insight would fit pretty well.
At eight levels of Monk, Nora gets a lot of special traits--Unarmored Defense means that if she’s not wearing armor her AC is 10+her Wisdom Mod+her Dexterity Mod, Unarmored Movement means she gets +15 feet of movement on top of that, Slow Fall lets her reduce falling damage by 40 points as a reaction (great landing strategy!), and Evasion means if she has to roll a saving throw to take half damage, she takes half if she fails and none if she succeeds. Also she gets Stillness of Mind, letting her shake off one condition making her Charmed or Frightened; admittedly that’s not a good name for a Nora skill, so maybe she comes at it the other way, having a mind so chaotic that she can just bulldoze through mental effects.
Of course Monk also gives Nora Martial Arts, letting her use Dexterity in place of Strength on attack and damage rolls with unarmed strikes or her monk weapon (Remember that! Remember that!). Unarmed attacks deal 1d6+Dexterity Mod damage, count as magical for purposes of determining resistance, and she can use a bonus action to make an unarmed attack after she takes the Attack action. Nora also gets Ki points to spend, eight in total which recharge on a rest, and she can use them for a Flurry of Blows, Patient Defense, Step of the Wind, Deflecting Missles, or a Stunning Strike, all great in combat. Also she gets an Extra Attack, letting her make two attacks per Attack action.
This all comes together with the Kensei Way, which lets us choose two weapons--one ranged, one melee--that aren’t heavy or special, and make them into Monk weapons. And Warhammers are versatile, not heavy, so they’re a valid option. As are Light Crossbows, which are about the closest thing in the book to a grenade launcher? At eight levels Kensei weapons are considered magical and can be used to make an Agile Parry, giving +2 AC after every turn Nora makes an unarmed attack as part of an attack action, give the ability to give her ranged attack +1d4 damage, and the ability to spend a ki point to do an extra 1d6 damage to attacks with those weapons. Also, Nora gets proficiency with Painter’s Supplies. I’m sure that will be very important.
Multiclassing into Ranger gives us proficiency in Light Armor, Medium Armor, and Shields, but really why would we use any of that with Unarmored Defense? Also we get proficiency with Martial Weapons, but Nora’s already got a really, really good hammer. But we do get an extra skill proficiency, and picking up Perception couldn’t hurt. We’re mostly here for the four levels of ‘I know how to survive in the wild’ this gives us.
Favored Enemy lets a Ranger pick a certain kind of enemy, making them easier to track, and boy howdy are there a lot of Grimm on Remnant! We’re actually going to swap out Natural Explorer for Deft Explorer, a variant feature which lets us pick up the Tireless trait; Nora can regenerate 1d10+her Wisdom mod HP, a number of times equal to her wisdom mod per long rest, and also reduces her exhaustion level by one every short rest. Of the Fighting Styles, I chose Druidic Warrior, giving Nora two Druid cantrips on top of the spells she’s going to get from Cleric and Ranger--there’s a reason for that, but I’ll wait till we get to the spellcasting to explain. The Hunter archetype gives us one of three traits, and Horde Breaker lets us make an extra attack on a creature next to another creature after we hit the first creature with a weapon. And of course Primeval Awareness gives Nora the ability to melt a spell slot so she can sense Grimm in the area. Or jerks. Actually, make her favored enemy “Jerks” if the GM will let you get away with it, she’s partners with Ren and he can spot all the Grimm for her.
Eight Levels in a Cleric of Zeal is mostly good for spells, but there are some side perks. Proficiency in Heavy Armor is one of them, and Priest of Zeal is another, letting Nora make a bonus attack when she hits something with a weapon attack a number of times equal to her wisdom modifier per long rest. Resounding Strike lets her shove something back ten feet every time she does Thunder damage, and Divine Strike gives her an extra 1d8 damage to one weapon attack per turn. And then there’s Channel Divinity, which she can use twice per rest; either to Turn Undead, making them scared of her and any less than CR 1 just flat out die, or engaging in Consuming Fervor, letting her max out any Fire or Thnder damage she does on an attack.
Now that all has stunning implications for Nora’s spells, but before we can figure out what spells she has I think we should talk about the 5 Ability Improvements this build gives us. That’s ten points to spend on abilities, which is just enough to max out Wisdom and Dexterity at 20 each. If you’ve been paying attention, that really adds extra oomph across the board for the girl.
And now, the spells. The Zeal Domain means Nora automatically knows a few spells, and Fireball works great for her grenades, but for the rest I aimed mostly on either mimicking her semblance or giving her new and creative ways to smash with her hammer. There’s a lot of thunder spells. A lot. So in total Nora has four cleric cantrips and two druid cantrips, and she knows three ranger spells up to level one and all the level 1-4 Domain of Zeal spells, and... huh, I miscalculated, I thought it was half her cleric level plus her wisdom mod, but it’s her total cleric level plus her wisdom mod cleric spells she can prepare. Oh well, it’s almost midnight, just add four more cleric spells up to level 4 that you like. And here’s the list:
Cantrips:
Gust (Druidic Warrior)
Mending (Cleric)
Sacred Flame (Cleric)
Thaumaturgy (Cleric)
Thunderclap (Druidic Warrior)
Toll the Dead (Cleric)
L1 (four slots):
Absorb Elements (Ranger)
Guiding Bolt (Cleric) (Concentration)
Hunter's Mark (Ranger) (Concentration)
Inflict Wounds (Cleric)
Sanctuary (Cleric)
Searing Smite (Zeal Domain) (Concentration)
Thunderous Smite (Zeal Domain) (Concentration)
Wild Cunning (Ranger)
L2 (three slots):
Deafness (Cleric)
Locate Object (Cleric)
Magic Weapon (Zeal Domain) (Concentration)
Shatter (Zeal Domain)
Silence (Cleric)
L3 (three slots):
Haste (Zeal Domain) (Concentration)
Fireball (Zeal Domain)
Remove Curse (Cleric)
L4 (three slots):
Banishment (Cleric) (Concentration)
Fire Shield (Zeal Domain) (Warm Only)
Freedom of Movement (Zeal Domain)
Stone Shape (Cleric)
L5 (two slots):
Two slots, no spells
Lots of fun and interesting variations on ‘hit it with your hammer’ here. Mostly based on causing a lot of noise, moving things around, or pulling out a grenade and using a touch of flamey booms when she needs it. Plus a few utility spells to make life on the road easier.
So yeah, that’s Nora.
13 notes · View notes
thatonecomicgirl · 5 years ago
Text
So you want to play the Batfam in D&D?
Here’s some ideas for you—this party is unbalanced as heck, entirely human, and kind of a mess. I did this for Disney Princesses on another blog and am probably going to do more for other superhero teams at some point.
Bruce Wayne / Batman
Look, I feel like this man would be multiclassing as heck because he is That Extra. Depending on optimization and whether certain things matter more in your version of the bat, you might lean more heavily or entirely on one class more than another, but my main ideas for Bruce would be:
Barbarian—Path of the Totem Warrior. Use stats for Eagle but call it the Bat, or homebrew a Bat Totem.
Fighter—Champion, because Bruce hones his skills so heavily
Paladin—Now, I don’t see him as a heavy magic user, but Oath of Vengeance is pretty much his schtick, and he could use Gotham personified as a deity/a bat god or a similar being as his divine patron.
Rogue—Inquisitive, because he’s the World’s Greatest Detective guys.
Now, his background could be Noble, Folk Hero, or Haunted One, depending on what you choose to focus on backstory wise, but whatever you do for his background keep in mind that he is Rich as Hell so his wealth is going to factor in to how much he starts off with.
Alfred Pennyworth
The man takes really good care of the batfam, and though his background was British Military or spying if I recall, I would leave his class as Cleric—probably in the Life Domain, as he’s always the family’s rock and if they don’t make it to Leslie Thompkins’ clinic you can bet he’s the one helping them stitch each other up
Commissioner Gordon
Look, I know he’s not a vigilante, but he’s important to the Batfam and is on their side in the ways that matter. As a cop, I’d have him as a Paladin (Order of the Crown) or a fighter of some kind (maybe Battle Master?)
Dick Grayson / Nightwing
Dick would be—wait for it—a bard.  He grew up in a circus, remember?  But he would be College of Valor, imo, because he inspires the teams he leads and is a fierce fighter. If you want to multiclass him, I’d add Monk (Way of the Open Hand) as is useful.  As for background, I would lean into him as a Folk Hero, because Nightwing is respected among many circles, and back when he was Robin he was Boy Wonder after all.  
Barbara Gordon / Oracle
*slams fist on desk* we need some spellcasters and you cannot tell me that Barbara Gordon would not make a good Divination wizard. Let’s face it, it matches the name perfectly.
Jason Todd / Red Hood
Well, if you ever cast Detect Undead in the room, Jason’s going to ping off on that, so yeah.  As for his class, Jason’s a fighter—definitely has the Firearms Specialist feat—though I can’t decide whether I would place him as a Brute (these new subclasses are interesting!) or an Eldritch Knight ultimately. Both fit into his undead black sheep of the family thing.  
Cassandra Cain / Orphan
Okay so I would place Cass as some kind of Rogue—her stealth is known to be amazing, so perhaps a Scout, with maybe enough levels under the Fighter category to make her a Samurai, because of her assassin background.
Tim Drake / Red Robin
TIM why are you so d i f f i c u l t okay so I would make him a Battle Master fighter because of those other tool proficiencies and his intelligence would be higher than his wisdom because the boy is smart, but not necessarily able to transfer that knowledge to good decisions.
Stephanie Brown / Batgirl
Stephanie would definitely have a higher wisdom than intelligence for the opposite reasons of Tim—she means well, wants to make correct decisions, but doesn’t always know enough to do so.  I would place her as a rogue Scout because I’m reminded of her Spoiler days where she always had the intel on her dad to share, and she builds on that with the fam to maybe learn some wizardry from Barbara or fighting from Cass.  
Duke Thomas / The Signal
One that I know little about, but I’m going to go ahead and call him an Oath of Devotion paladin with some potential aasimar traits, depending on how you handle his abilities.
Damian Wayne / Robin
Rogue Assassin to start, adding some levels of either monk or fighter based on his inspiration from Dick or Bruce.  Since he was Dick’s Robin, I’m inclined to actually give him some Monk levels, as he would not be impressed by the whole bard thing, but his fighting? Heck yeah.
Kate Kane / Batwoman
I believe she’d be a paladin, Oath of the Crown to start with, as she was military if I’m remembering her backstory correctly, but then later would turn to Oath of Vengeance as she intermingles with the family.
Selina Kyle / Catwoman
Um. Rogue thief.  With a criminal background and maxed out charisma. She’s probably the easiest to pick out for anyone—I hardly have to explain myself for her like I do others.
Harper Row / Bluebird
Probably a ranger; if I recall she is a sniper?  Gloom Stalker conclave, because Gotham and because she’s probably going to need the disguise spells to hide that very recognizable hair and keep her brother safe and out of the line of fire.
Jean-Paul Valley / Azrael
Okay, I know the least about Jean-Paul of the people on this list, but I’d actually leave him as a Scourge Aasimar (the angel name was too good to pass up) Oathbreaker Paladin.  It seems to fit him to some degree, and while I know little about him I understand that he breaks off from the family and goes crazy, so Oathbreaker works for me here.
Helena Bertinelli / Huntress
Ranger—and I bet you’ll never guess what conclave?  No? Hunter Conclave.  Yeah, real original. She’d probably take Horde Breaker and Uncanny Dodge when she levels to them.  Definitely a crossbow wielder, or hand crossbow depending on what your personal game allows.  
Terry McGinnis / Batman
Terry is new-ish to the game, so I would have him be less extra than Bruce.  Probably a Champion fighter, with maybe some Artificer levels in there because Neo Gotham translates into battle magic tech for me—likely as an Artillerist.  His brother, Matt, as Robin, would probably just have the same classes. 
36 notes · View notes