#my poor glaives

[andywinter16]

Random FFXV thought of the day ...

Do you think that Bahamut not only persecuted glaives but also their families?

Because let´s be honest ... He totally would! cus he´s a dick!

[garbria]

Liza Miller during the events of Kingsglaive.

For Kingsglaive Lore day 4, ends

[luvsavos]

WHERE is the extra aiden lore. where does his name ever came from where is his backstory i have never seen it 😭 he’s been my fav npc since 4u and only just now have i known he HAS A NAME.. AND THAT NAME IS THE EXACT SAME AS MY MH4U PROTAGS NAME COMPLETLEY COINCIDENTALLY—

the legends of the guild animated movie on netflix! it goes over his whole backstory on how he joined up with the ace hunters/became an official hunter and met julius + nadia

iceborne is where he first got his name though iirc, in the ingame cutscene post-fatalis both he and julius get name-dropped directly, and i think they were the first npcs to ever have that happen in-game before? i don't think nadia was mentioned, i Think the movie is where she got her name but i Could be wrong on that

also JHFGJNSDH that's so funny omfg.... i feel like aiden would also find it very funny he'd probably love having a Name Twin

[monsterdoodling]

the Monster Hunter Wilds demo allows me to create a wonderful little palico :)

Some thoughts on the demo:

The muscle slider for men is just the boob slider for women. This is extremely disappointing.

My poor Steam Deck is not powerful enough to run the game. I'm getting ~15-20 fps walking around the map, and around ~10-15 fps during hunts, which makes dodging a bit tricky. Also it crashes a lot.

since my steam deck is so weak, the graphics are very PS1-core. It's making me oddly nostalgic for trying to play Psychonauts on my old potato laptop when I was a kid.

insect glaive would be more fun if the kinsect wasn't SO SLOW >:( like come on man, I need the extracts STAT

Switch Axe is very fun :)

Both bowguns are SUPER fun, which is surprising since hbg is usually slow and clunky compared to lbg, but focus mode makes it feel really powerful!

Sns is still ol reliable :)

still need to try the rest of the weapons

i can't decide if I like my palico talking or not. I'm a prowler main in GU, so not hearing meows is just... weird. I hate that the two settings are "cat talks" or "cat meows," I'd prefer "cat talks in cutscenes and meows during hunts."

When did modern AAA video games start costing 70 fucking dollars

[primaverapeace]

Here's my gameplay with Azure Dragon Crescent Glaive and Guan Yu outfit.

Basically, I think the weapon's move set was based on Golden Lies but with heavier and slower attack. Its fable art was amazing though.

I'll try to find the best clearer angle to film him then. It's PS5 poor fixed angles.

[sanvirtheobserver]

Taking Flight, Chapter 51: Now Hiring

The afternoon sun bears down as Tari and Pomni face each other in the courtyard, both standing on the opposite ends of a large circle drawn on the ground. From the sidelines we see Meggy, Mario, Ragatha, and Shiro cheering them on as they both steel themselves for what comes next.

Ragatha: Alright, let's keep this simple. First one to knock the other out of the ring wins.

Tari's Glaive blinks into her palm with a shower of blue sparks. In her offhand, a blue ball of flame ignites as her gauntlet forms.

Tari: Just as we practiced. You ready?

Pomni: You kidding?

A pair of prisms begin to form around Pomni hands, creating a formittable set of gauntlets. She clashes the knuckles together with a crystaline spark.

Pomni: I've been waiting all week to test these out!

The air crackles with anticipation as Shiro raises his hand into the air.

Shiro: FIGHTERS READY!

Meggy: Give it all you got, Tari!

Shiro: THREE........

Ragatha: I believe in you, Pomni!

Shiro: TWO.......

Mario: Can I have a hotdog please?

Shiro: ONE.......

SMG3: LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, MAY I HAVE YOUR ATTENTION PLEASE?

Anticipation gives way to confusion as they all turn to SMG3 flashing the biggest smile on his face.

Clench: Dude, really?

Meggy: Ugh. This better be important, Three.

SMG3: Oh, it is! With the success of the Café (and our "supplementary" financial efforts) I have been working on the next big step for the past week and am proud to present said next big step to all of you. FOLLOW ME!

Pomni and Tari just shrug. It seems as though their sparring session will have to wait. The group now stands before the result of SMG3's weeklong project. The building itself looked noticeably larger. Two single-story extensions on each side and a three story extension at the back form a "throne" around the central Café. A new name now sits atop the massive bomb prop on its roof.

SMG3: Welcome........to THREE'S LUSTROUS LAIR!!!!

The group now seems at least somewhat interested in what SMG3 has to say as they step inside. Everything feels so much bigger now. To the sides of the Café counter we now have a fancy diner and kitchen to the right, and to the left we have a pub setup with a drink bar. And of course, you can't forget the barrels of plushies and the racks of various weapons he has for sale.

SMG3: This marvelous venture now provides much greater amenities that'll help expand upon my brand. Along with our signature Coffee and Bombs, we now have a Devious Diner for lunch and dinner, and there's always the option of happy hour specials for the "legally" ambitious over at the Graveyard Shift Bar.

Mario: OH, does that mean you make.......?

SMG3: *sigh* Yes Mario, we now serve Spaghetti.

Mario: YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!

Tari: Hm..........

SMG3: What? Too impressed to speak?

Meggy: As impressive as it is......... this place seems awfully big for one guy to run. Especially since he's usually out gallavanting for ill gotten gains.

Tari: Yeah, you aren't exploiting those poor Echidnas again, are you?

SMG3: Oh god no! I'd never do such a thing to Terrance's friends and family! Besides, I'm not necessarily alone on this one. While I am still the boss, it's about time I had a more efficient system for running this place. A new manager will help things run a little more smoothly.

The rumbling of engines can be heard at the back of the complex.

SMG3: Oh! That must be the crew coming back with our new employees!

He heads over to the back door and leads the way into the back of the complex. The first floor appears to be a workshop, complete with a working forge, several worktables, and a variety of machines meant for maintenance and construction. The second floor is a lounging area with a large projector screen and............ a double decker couch. Awesome. There's also a small bar that Rob is currently tending to.

Rob: Corn Colada?

The top floor is where things get interesting. SMG3 flips a switch and a large gate opens in the back of the building, revealing a custom made Airship dock. A bridge unfolds onto the ship's top deck where several new faces are waiting. One was a mighty tall Boo Woman in a seafoam green dress, with a much smaller Boo in a green vest and hat by her side. A pair of blue-in-black eyes peer from beneath her wide brimmed hat as she makes her way across the bridge where SMG3 is waiting. She was quite the imposing presence as she looked down upon the crew before her.

SMG3: Everyone please give a bow for Mrs. Martha Mildenhall. Pleasure to have you here, ma'am.

Martha: The Pleasure is all mine, Mr. Three. And you must be his....... companions. I must say you are quite the colorful bunch.

Mario: Are you calling Mario gay?

Meggy pulls his hat down over his head to shut him up.

Tari: It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Mildenhall.

Martha: Oh please, call me Martha.

Three more figures make their way across the bridge. Two young women and one young man. They looked like triplets, all bearing the same pale skin tone, ivory white hair, radiant yellow eyes, and thin arrowtipped tails. There was also these circlets on their heads bearing a set of glowing bulbs, as well as these metallic talon-like arms and legs. The boy dawned a pilot's jacket and hat with a pair of cargo pants. One girl wore a blouse with a variety of pens in its pockets, and her hair was tied into two neat pigtails. The other wore a winter coat that extended all the way down to her calfs, with most of her face obscured by a collar that covers her mouth and nose.

Martha: And these are my three little helpers. Why don't you introduce yourselves.

The young man came first. He was positively BEAMING as he greeted the crew with a salute.

???? Salutations new neighbors! My name is Noah, and I'm THRILLED to be working here with you guys! Over here is my antisocial sister Vale.......

The sister with the coat just waves.

Noah: ........and over here is my beloved big sis Julia!

The sister with the pigtails does her best to look presentable.

Julia: Ready to serve.

Tari: What about her?

She points towards one more figure making its way across the bridge. She had all the same traits shared among the other three, but appeared much younger with a maid's dress and bonet. She ignores the crowd and rushes straight to Noah's side.

Noah: Oh, Hey there, Cyn. Didn't think you wanted to come out.

SMG3: Now, if you would follow me, I'd LOVE to give you a tour of our newly refurbished establishment.

SMG3 and Martha head back down to the Café, leaving the rest of the group with the siblings.

Pomni: So......... um........., I was gonna say I like......... whatever it is you have going on here.

Noah cocks his head in confusion.

Meggy: I think she's talking about your look, like the circlets.

Noah: Oh, this little thing? It's actually an auxiliary optics array, but thank you for noticing.

Pomni: Then there's your matching gloves and boots........ wait, is that a knife?

He looks down and notices the switchblade-like claw hinged between his knuckles.

Noah: Oh! I'm so sorry about that.

He quickly and hurriedly folds it back into his hand with a nervous smile.

Noah: The hinges get loose sometimes.

Tari: Are those......... prosthetics?

Noah: Well, yeah. It's......... it's a long story.

She can notice the somber look in his eyes as he says that, same as the other two.

Tari: I'm sorry. I didn't mean to strike any nerves.

Noah: Oh no no no no no. It's fine. Just.......... um.....

Julia: We should get going. We're likely overdue for orientation.

Noah: Right! What She said.

And so the four head downstairs for their "orientation," leaving the rest of the group in the hangar.

Pomni: Well they were certainly....... interesting.

[raynewton]

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖚𝖊𝖑 𝖔𝖋 𝖍𝖔𝖓𝖔𝖗 𝖆 𝖑𝖆 𝕯𝖔𝖜𝖓𝖘𝖎𝖉𝖊

Sir Gilman: Sir, forgive this knight for not addressing you more respectfully, but your means of revenge are unacceptable!

Oralech: So what am I supposed to do?

Sir Gilman: You must challenge Master Sandalwood to a duel of honor! Choice of weapon--

Oralech: Great duel. The physician and the historian trying to stab each other! That rotten log doesn't even know which side to hold the sword on!

Sir Gilman: In that case, we must find some brave knights to fight on your behalf!

Oralech: It's all a bunch of hogwash!

Gareph: I like the idea! Let off steam, then do some chit-chat.

Sir Gilman: You describe the sacred ritual of a duel of honor too vulgarly, but in essence--

Oralech: Gareph, you too?!

Gareph: I'm done with freezing in the swamps! Gonna duff their nomad up and then finally talk!

Sir Gilman: Could this knight interpret your statement as a challenge?

Oralech: No! I did not consent to-- Stop, you undercooked noodle! Stop!

*a few hours later*

Sir Gilman: In the name of establishing justice, we are gathered on a star-blessed... khee... swamp to end years of strife through a glorious duel! Today, the former Master of the Nightwings Order, Volfred Sandalwood...

Sandalwood: I still find this idea highly questionable.

Sir Gilman: ...are fighting with Oralech, acting master of the True Nightwings Order!

Oralech: Idiotic.

Sir Gilman: Their seconds are Hedwyn the Deserter and Gareph the Shipwright. Exchange bows.

Hedwyn: *sharply nods*.

Gareph: *makes a mocking curtsy*

Sir Gilman: And the judges: this knight, who solemnly promises to act only according to the law, and--

Iq'sa: The magnificent and enchanting Lady Iq'sa!

Oralech: *facepalm*.

Sir Gilman: According to the fifty-third verse on chivalry of the Ores Codex, seconds are equal to knights of honor and shall fight among themselves if both duelists are from peaceful professions or have taken vows of nonviolence.

Hedwyn: So how does that apply to a military physician who spit on his vows from the heights of Alodiel?

Oralech: Oh, so you'd rather have your kidneys beat out by me personally?

Sir Gilman: As practice has shown, we have no evidence of a breach of physician's oaths.

Gareph: Are we just gonna keep talking?

Sir Gilman: Must choose the weapons. In a duel of honor, you may use swords, glaives, axes.

Gareph: Can we make allowances for the poor financial situation of the participants and fight with mallets?

Sir Gilman: In special cases it is allowed to fight hand-to-hand.

Hedwyn: Good, now I'm going to smack that desecrator of the Rites in the face!

Gareph: We're desecrators? It's shameful to look at your rabble from the stars, that's why the Scribes lost their nerves!

Hedwyn: You have defrauded the Rite system!

Gareph: And you rammed the blackwagons! You broke over the Tempers' trunk, you knocked down the Dissidents' zodiac, the Fates' blackwagon almost collapsed in mid-air!

Hedwyn: You got the drive-imps to pull the Pyrehearts' blackwagon aground!

Gareph: You put a spell on Lendel just because!

Hedwyn: And your demon got into the blackwagon and scared the Reader half to death!

Gareph: The Reader who gave the order to run him over with the blackwagon!

Hedwyn: So we're the villains and you're the nice and fluffy ones?

Gareph: We never thought we were good. And you sons of bitches are yelling on every corner what kind of good liberators you are! You accuse others of all deadly sins to make yourselves look better and cleaner against them!

Hedwyn: Come here, and I'll show you who is the son of a cur!

Sandalwood: My boy, calm down--

Gareph: I'd love to! Now I'll paint your pretty face in such a way that the Reader will never recognize it!

Oralech: Hey, you two! We agreed that you would fight for me and Sandalwood, not--

Gareph: To hell with your stupid squabbles!

*Hedwyn and Gareph throwing fists at each other*

Sandalwood: It's true what they say, like priest like people.

Oralech: Are you referring to yourself?

Sandalwood: Just thinking out loud. The wise one will understand.

Oralech: Your wisdom is beyond us, you shriveled splinter! Every word of Gareph should be written down and pasted under your agents' leaflets! A bunch of hypocrites!

Sandalwood: You're the one who provoked it.

Oralech: Me?! You think I encouraged Erisa to push me over the waterfall?

*they both lash out menacingly at each other*

Iq'sa: Hey, sir-wyrm, if both duelists and seconds are fighting, what are judges supposed to do?

Sir Gilman (confused): This knight knows of no precedent!

Iq'sa: Well, then the decision is obvious. For the True Nightwi-i-ings!!!

[allastoredeer]

Hello! It's the Archangel anon again! I finally found the time to type out some "general" headcanons I have about the Archangels! Also, I'm sorry that even when trying to keep things short and sweet, I still ended up writing a damn novela🥲

Okay! A quick refresher first! Before he fell, Lucifer was an Archangel, along with his father (the Metatron) and his five siblings (Michael, Raphael, Uriel, Gabriel, and Zadkiel). We see, presumably, the other six Archangels during Lucifer's brief flashback in episode 5. I headcanon that the two angels with the biggest, most ornate halos are the Metatron (the leader of the Archangels) and Michael (the Metatron's second in command). The Metatron is on Lucifer's right, and Michael is on his left.

There! Nice and refreshed! Now for the others. The angel standing directly behind Lucifer, I feel, is Zadkiel. The angel on Michael's left is Uriel, and the one on his right is Gabriel. This means Raphael is the tall angel standing between Zadkiel and the Metatron.

Now for more detailed general headcanons. These are all a hodgepodge of actual attributes I found after researching the Archangels, along with ideas I liked and thought would work. To keep from going on and on about their personalities and stuff, I made lists of characters that reminded me of the siblings. Hopefully, that will give you a quicker idea of what I think these guys are like.

Michael (He/Him): Patron Archangel of Warriors (also chivalry, the sick, the poor, the suffering, and tradesmen ((grocers, bakers, fishermen, etc.))

Characters I associate with Michael: Zuko (AtlA), Hunter (The Owl House), Alucard (Netflix's Castlevania), Miles Edgeworth (Ace Attorney), Donatello (Rise of the TMNT)

Associated color: Royal Blue

Primary weapon: Shortsword

Bonus:

Tells everyone his favorite instrument is the harp

(it's actually the accordion)

(Lucifer is the only one who knows this)

Raphael (He/She/They): Patron Archangel of Healing (also travelers, lovers, the blind, and children/young people)

Characters I associate with Raphael: Katara (AtlA), Nani Pelekai (Lilo & Stitch), Willow Park (The Owl House), Martin Blackwood (The Magnus Archives)

Associated color: Green

Primary weapon: Pike

Favorite weapon: Bo staff

Bonus:

Favorite instrument is the bugle

Is the "wine mom" sibling

(Keeps a secret flask on them at all times)

(Uriel is the only one he shares his booze with)

Uriel (She/They): Patron Archangel of Wisdom, Truth, Purification, and Devine Flame (also the arts and sciences; ALSO also, was assigned by the Metatron patronage over "Light" after Lucifer's Fall)

Characters I associate with Uriel: Garnet (Steven Universe), Luisa Madrigal (Encanto), Yasha Nydoorin (Critical Role: Campaign Two), Daria Morgendorffer (Daria)

Associated colors: Red, Yellow, and Purple

Primary weapon: Claymore

Bonus:

Favorite instrument is the lyre

Gabriel (He/Him): Patron Archangel of Messengers, Postal Services, Communication, and Communication Services (👈 remember this one, I'm gonna send a separate ask later, going into more detail...😈)

Characters I associate with Gabriel: Literally every single blue character Ben Schwartz has ever voiced, specifically Rise of the TMNT's Leonardo (I don't know why, but I feel in my bones that Hazbin Gabriel is a Ben Schwartz Blue Guy™️. Maybe it has to do with the association I have between Gabriel and the Greek messenger god Hermes?🤷)

Associated colors: White (and light blue)

Primary weapon: Glaive

Bonus:

Favorite instrument is the trumpet

Lilies are his favorite flower (likes to wear them in his hair)

Stamp collecting is a secret hobby of his

Zadkiel (She/Her): Patron Archangel of Mercy, Forgiveness, and Freedom (most well known for being the angel that stopped Abraham from killing his son Isaac)

Characters I associate with Zadkiel: Luz Noceda (The Owl House), Keyleth (Critical Role: Campaign One), Jester Lavorre (Critical Role: Campaign Two), Charlie Morningstar (Hazbin Hotel)😊💖🌈

Associated color: Violet

Primary weapon: Dagger

Bonus:

Favorite instrument is the drums

Goes by the nickname "Kiki" (Keekee, the cat is named after her)

Second most skilled Archangel at hand-to-hand melee combat

Out of all her dad's siblings, Charlie clicks with her Aunt Kiki the best

Pre-Fall Lucifer, aka "The Light-Bringer" (He/Him): Patron Archangel of Humility, Music, and "Light" (both literal and metaphorical)

Associated colors: Gold and Pink

Primary weapon: His FISTS (the most skilled Archangel at hand-to-hand melee combat)

Bonus:

Favorite instrument is the violin (he calls it a fiddle to annoy Mike)

Loves all his siblings but is closest to Mike and Kiki

In the event of a prank-war, he can either be your greatest ally or your worst nightmare

Can always get his siblings to smile and laugh no matter how down they are

Is his father's second biggest mistake

And that's the six siblings down! All that's left is the Metatron. But, to be perfectly honest, that piece of work is gonna need an entirely separate ask dedicated solely to him. Plus, I have another separate headcanon ask about Gabriel that I desperately want to type out first. So I'll have to get back to you about Old Man Meta at a later date.

I will say this, though, out of all the shitty dads that exist within the Hellaverse, the Metatron is on a completely separate level all his own.

Oh! Also, he and Roo have MAJOR beef with each other. The Metatron and the Root of Evil go way, WAAAAAY back🙂

Whoa O.O That is...that is indeed a lot.

I am writing them down. I might not use all of them, but they seem like a very good foundation to build on. I like all the little tidbits and fun facts about them too XD And specific relationships they have with each other.

Also, everytime I see Metatron I read it as Megatron and I'm surprised by it each time. What are Transformers doing in the Bible. Hahah, but yeah, I didn't even know of the Metatron until "Good Omens." Very interesting that he and Roo have some beef that goes WAY back.

It makes sense, in a way, but still 👀 I like it.

Thank you for these!!

[icebrooding]

I was rereading my Deimos/Kanaxai fic I wrote back before LT came out and basically crushed all my headcanons thanks to Deimos's epithet being <Curled Fist> instead of <Glaive> like his Astral Ward statue said... but I still kind of stand that sth about those two kind of feel like they make more sense to have interacted/been sort-of-friends than Kanaxai and Cerus?

I'unno really, cause while Kana and Cerus are both massive edgelords, Kana's possible role as an inquisitor (as seems to be House Aurkus's way) kind of sits up neatly with Deimos's 'torture one dude for a couple'a centuries' shtick. Cerus just... well, he's like those videos you see of apex predators going a hundred miles an hour after a poor gazelle or sth. It's really brutal but at least it's somewhat 'fast'. I get the vibe that Kana and Deimos are both more methodical about their violence.

I just see them as personalities that would mesh better.

ANYWAY, I also like it since funnily enough Deimos is the least developed of the three siblings as of now, and posthumously is basically the only way we'll get to know anything about him. Would have been nice to have some possible memory/notes from him in Nayos somewhere (unless I missed one?). Him having a connection with another established kryptis could help flesh (heh) him out a bit more.

But it is kind of funny to think that despite being the unfavourite, Cerus is the one making all the friends and getting a wife while Deimos doesn't wheeze

[ivyprism]

Betrayal (Old Fell AU: Backstory)

Warning: Brother murder, death, sacrifice, manipulation, cruelty, dust, blood, child murder, they remember everything, betrayal, etc.

-----

"What have you done...?" Heath breathed as he stared at his brother. The cold recoiling pain in his side growing. He gripped his side as he fell to his side. He felt blood run down his chin. He looked up at his brother, who was trembling. Passerine's eyes were wide and terrified.

"Paps- I-" Passerine said as Heath looked over at the dust and the bodies around. He knew Heath was in a fight, but his eyes landed on Myrthe whose lifeless body was surrounded by bones. He looked back up at his brother.

"What have you done, Passerine?" Heath hissed as his blood spilled. He forced himself up. "You... You killed them?" Heath looked back at his brother. His eyes started to glow as Passerine held his hands up.

"I... I had to. Please, I had to. I had to sacrifice someone-" Passerine looked back at the corpses. Heath felt his formerly cold rage begin to burn as bright as the red blood on the ground.

"What the Hell does that mean? We agreed to not hurt the humans! You just- you just betrayed everything we stand for!" Heath's voice rose an octave. His soul began to beat with his righteous fury.

"Toxin said if we killed the humans, he'd stop this!" Passerine tried to reason and Heath's eyes turned to slits as he looked at his older brother.

"And you believed him?" Heath spat those words out like they were venom. Passerine glared at his brother. Heath felt his magic begin to spark. "You're a naive fool!" Heath's rage was overflowing as he saw Myrthe holding Frisk, the child taken in by the royals. He felt his fury grow. "You truly believed that Viper's sweet lies? You're nothing but a murderer." Heath growled out as he glared at his brother. His wound healing as he uses his green magic.

"I'm the murderer? How many times have we soiled our hands with blood?" Passerine snaps back at his brother. Heath stands up straight. His eyes glowed bright red.

"You think I don't live every day with the grief, the regret of what I did? But I had to! You listened to a viper and killed innocent people! I cannot let this go." Heath clenched his teeth as he held his hand out. He never formed his weapon before, he was sure he couldn't, but his brother summoned his pair of gauntlets.

"There are no do-overs anymore, Papyrus." Passerine glared back at his brother who stared back at him blankly.

"And yet, you killed our friends, Sans?" Heath coldly responded. Passerine flinched a bit at his brother's cold tone. Not expect his loving, but rough around-the edges brother to sound so cold before.

"At least I did something to stop this war..." Passerine snapped back at his brother who tensed again. Heath kept a cold look in his eyes.

"You wanted this war to end so badly that you murdered innocent people? We have fought a war before. What is different now?" Heath growled at his brother, who hesitated to respond. He took a step forward, and Heath tilted his head. His eyes gleamed brighter. "What justification can you give me? Toxin told you to? The man we've been at war with since the very beginning? Desperation? At least make your piss-poor excuse a good one." Heath's power swirled over his bones, and then it began to create red armor around him.

"I...had to." Passerine gripped his hands. He wanted to stop the war, but the sight of the corpses, his brother's anger, and then he saw his brother's magic swirl more. Heath clenched his jaw together.

"Then you have forced my hand." Heath holds his hand up as he prays and hopes that, finally, his weapon will form. That's when he feels a hilt in his hand. His eyes snap towards his hand. He moves the weapon and smooths off any magic as a glaive form.

"Don't do this, Papyrus." Passerine half-begged as Heath glared at his brother again. Heath, however, began to move forward. His eyes focused on his brother.

"I can't do that, Sans," Heath growled back at his brother. Passerine tenses, but prepares for a fight. "I have to make you pay for what you've done." Heath didn't hesitate to attack after that line.

He sliced, moved, and stabbed, while his brother dodged and struck back. He didn't pause to reflect or hesitate, but he couldn't believe he was battling his brother. The same brother who taught him how to fight, how to wield magic, and who he trusted above all others. He sliced faster, and quicker, and used magic to force his sibling away. The struggle continued, and it became increasingly intense. As the struggle progressed, magic mixed. Heath closed his eyes as he channeled a red attack against the sword. He felt a wave of nausea wash over him as he sensed the power channel. He saw his brother begin to prepare his own attack, but he couldn't let it pass... So...

He slashed.

The red attack flew across the field and hit his brother. The nausea grew as the blood of his brother spilled onto the ground. He was about to stop when his brother threw his own final attack at him. He didn't think about it until the stabbing pain filled his soul. He coughed blood as his brother hit the ground. When he saw that, all he could think of was his brother. The brother who he trusted and loved above all else. He dropped his glaive as he felt his body weaken from his own blow from his brother. He managed to get to his brother as his blood spilled.

"Paps, fuck... You've really grown, haven't you?" Passerine coughed out as his brother looked at him. "You've even beaten me in a fight, after all those times you'd fail as a kid..." Passerine said as he looked up at his brother. Heath couldn't utter a single word as he fixed his brother's position. "I'm sorry, Paps..." Passerine managed to choke out as his blood kept spilling. Heath felt numb in the moment. He couldn't even speak. He was dying, he knew it, as he felt his own blood on his hands, but they were more coated with his brothers.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Sans..." Papyrus choked out as he looked at the blood on his hands. If he survived this, he could never wash off the blood. Will he ever get the blood off his hands?

"No, you shut the fuck up," Sans ordered his brother who flinched and looked at him. Sans coughed up a bit of blood. "It's my fault... I shouldn't have listened to Toxin..." Sans whispered out, he closes his eyes. "I'm sorry, Paps..." And then Sans dusted in Papyrus's arms. Papyrus felt his emotions finally flood out. He just killed his brother. He was a murderer, through and through.

He could feel his own magic begin to snap and flicker as he heard the familiar, but sickening laughter of Toxin.

"Wow! What a show!" Toxin hissed out. Heath felt sick as he glared up at his opponent. Toxin smirks at him. "You actually did it! You murdered your own brother. I gotta hand it to you, you really got him." Toxin's sick smirk was all Heath could focus on as he stepped over. Mist almost flowed off of him. "But... It'd be a shame if this is how you died." Toxin cruelly grinned as Papyrus paled. What the fuck did this sick man mean?

"What the fuck does that mean...?" Heath hissed as he felt his consciousness begin to stutter and weaken.

"Well, of course, I'm going to be so nice and grant you one reset." Toxin grinned sickly. Heath paled immediately and he opened his mouth to protest. "Ah, ah! Don't thank me! Don't worry, it will be just like how you left it, but this time, I won't mess with your brother's head~, deal?" Toxin grinned as Heath felt absolutely sick. The cruel skeleton leaned against a tree as he quickly killed Heath before he could say a word...

Then Heath woke up... In his warm and comfortable bed. The sound of birds, the uncomfortable silence...

And he remembered...

Everything.

----

[jazzraft]

32, nyxnoct >:3 ♡

this and two other prompts have been sitting in my mailbox since march of last year, and I am so sorry about that! I know you won't mind that I deviated a bit here for the sake of general nyx propaganda. there's still hints of nyxnoct because I'm me, but I threw nods towards every other major nyx ship I could remember into this as well.

vote for nyx in this round of the most fuckable ff man! or just enjoy this silly nonsense as I continue to drag my ass out of my worst writer's block ever

---

“This is, by far, the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.”

“Nothing done for charity is ever dumb.”

Nyx rolled his eyes in response, trying so hard not to laugh at the prince’s pouting puffed cheeks. Noctis did not find it funny. Building barns for therapy chocobos was not a crusade he undertook lightly, and quite frankly? He knew his people. He knew that, if fluffy yellow chicks and dewy-eyed war veterans weren’t going to attract donations, than sex sure as hell would.

“I thought you were above this kind of exploitation, Your Highness,” Nyx said mildly, allowing himself to be pushed along.

“I’m not above anything for a good cause,” Noctis wheezed, leaning his weight into Nyx’s back as he all but shoved him in front of the cameras. “Those chocobos need houses and the veterans need rehab, so shut up and take off your shirt!”

“But you’ve already got volunteers!”

The whole tenth floor of the Citadel had been invaded by ring lights and photographers and drop sheets and clothes racks. Men and women from all of the Crown’s departments were shuffling about with half their clothes on, posing in front of cameras with a variety of different props. One man was drenched in way too much tanning oil, slipping into frame and trying for a smile that was too white on his orange face.

“Look at what I have to work with,” Noctis mumbled.

“He’s not so bad,” Nyx reasoned, appraising the man’s trim waist and broad chest.

“He’s greasy. And I don’t like his face. His eyes are small.”

“Wow, this calendar sure sounds judgmental.”

“This isn’t about him. This is about you, being a soldier, and therefore relatable, and also hot.” Noctis heaved the deliberately uncooperative glaive in front of an unoccupied drop sheet, punctuating every other word with the effort it took to get him in position. “Just think of your former brothers in arms,” Noctis said, gasping for breath. “Think of how their mental health could be significantly improved with some relaxing therapy riding.”

Nyx smirked, preparing an affected mockery for all of this being “in poor taste,” but Noctis stopped him before he could, planting his hands on either side of Nyx’s face.

“Yes, that. Hold that face while I find Prompto.”

“What face?” Nyx laughed, bemused.

“Don’t play coy… No, wait, do play coy! Do what you’re doing!”

Noctis could never really tell if Nyx was oblivious to his own sex appeal, or he knew damn well. Sometimes, he’d look at him with those innocent blue eyes and Noctis would think, “Oh, how cute, he has no idea.” Then, other times he’d pull that smirk, that devious little quirk of the lips that dimpled his cheek, softening the sturdy, scruffy line of his jaw. His eyes all of a sudden turned sharp, lids hooding and darkening the irises a stormy gray. The sly glint to them skewered Noctis in place, both terrified and attracted to the dangerous potential of that smirk.

Mercifully, the hallway doors banging open snapped him out of it. Unmercifully, it was Cor.

“Noct!” he thundered, zeroing in on the prince like a targeting missile. “When I said it was a no to the Crownsguard, a no to the Kingsglaive was also implied.”

“They are not the same things,” Noctis insisted. “You get to order one around, not the other. Drautos is cool with it.”

“Titus Drautos said yes to you pimping out the Kingsglaive for charity,” Cor said, dryly, not a question, pointedly not looking at Crowe Altius in a leather catsuit revving a fake motorcycle across the room.

“He encouraged me to use the Glaive’s greatest ass for good.”

“Asset.”

“So you agree!”

Cor sighed, witheringly, palm flat against his face. Why did reasoning with the Crown Prince always fall to him? Why did the word “reason” have absolutely no definition to the Caelum line of kings? He found out about this ridiculous affront to altruism through Regis when pressed on the prince’s schedule for the day.

“Oh, he’s just doing a sexy photoshoot for charity,” the King said over his morning tea, as flippantly as a comment on the weather. “I hear it’s going to be very tasteful.”

“Noct,” Cor said, presently. “It’s one thing to waste the Crownsguard’s resources, it’s another for you to – Ulric, put your clothes back on!”

Nyx blinked over at him, confused by the outrage, shirt halfway up his torso. He smiled, teeth peering from beneath his lips in a wolfish grin.

“What? If the Crownsguard thinks they’re above getting down and dirty to save a few innocent chocobos…”

“That’s not what I think.”

“And yet, I don’t see you stripping, Marshal.”

Nyx pulled off his shirt and Crowe whistled from across the room, “Yeah! Take it off!”

Cor wished this entire level of the Citadel would implode underneath him and take everyone else down with the rubble. Nyx rolled his neck, wheeled out his arm, and the whole room warmed up by ten degrees.

Miles of ochre flesh stretched before them, sun-bronzed and sculpted. A youth spent scaling canyons had honed those rippling abs, flexing casually with every breath. Straight shoulders, levied by decades of standing at attention, framed the wide planes of Nyx’s chest, no less devastating for the spidery scar bursting like bolts of lightning across his sternum. The thin line of ink around his arm strained as he worked his muscles awake – as if he were going into battle. Divots formed in his firm biceps as he moved, the ridges of his collarbone pulling out and in under taut golden skin.

“So, do I just stand here or…?”

Cor thwacked Noctis upside the head to knock him out of staring – as if he wasn’t doing the same. The Crown Prince sputtered something incoherent, then scuttled away to find Prompto. Of course Noct’s little blond cohort was roped into directing this nonsense. At least he had the good sense to look cowed once he was dragged in front of Cor.

“Oh, h-hey, Marshal!” Prompto greeted, sheepishly. “Don’t suppose you’re here to contribute.”

“I expected better from you.”

“Ignore him,” Noctis insisted upon seeing Prompto’s eyes go wide and watery. “Remember the chocobos. Nyx, sit on this!”

Noctis dragged an ornate divan into frame, his tiny body surprisingly strong when he was motivated. Nyx obliged the Crown Prince’s frenetic orders with that same roguish smirk, bouncing onto the plush blue cushions. Noctis scurried out of the way and gestured for Prompto to do his thing.

“Right, so, just relax,” Prompto told Nyx, fiddling with the camera set-up. “Lean your arm against there… okay, put your legs like… yeah, like that… Now, just look off to the side a little… Yeah, perfect!”

Prompto went on like that for a couple minutes, Nyx obediently following his lead. He sprawled across the divan like an ancient war general, casually awaiting news from the front or effortlessly issuing commands before he’d donned his armor for the day. He shuffled through a few expressions towards the invisible compatriot he was meant to be acting against.

Prompto would tell him to narrow his eyes as if he were displeased, his dark brows withering his whole demeanor with the barest crease of pretended annoyance. He’d ask him to run his fingers through his braids and open his mouth to yawn, as if the whole affair bored him - and the state of his undress was of no concern before his imaginary council. Nyx would lean his chin in his palm and wink at the camera sometimes, unprompted, and on reflex, Prompto would hit the shutter to capture the brazen flirtation.

“What else can I do for you?” Nyx eventually asked, after Prompto’s instructions had run as dry as his throat. “Any other way you want me?”

“U-Um… I don’t know,” he spluttered, rifling through the set of pictures so he didn’t have to make eye contact with the subject – instead just starting at the replication of his bare chest on film. “I think that’s enough, right guys?”

“What? Oh, sure,” Noctis said vacantly. (Cor remained mum.)

“It’s missing some spice,” said Ignis, startling all of them.

“How long have you been here?” Prompto squeaked in alarm.

“You asked me to be here. I’ve been catering all morning,” Ignis reminded him, dismissively – evidently it hadn’t been the first time. He glanced up at Nyx. “Try adding something that’s unique to you.”

“It sounds as if my presence bores you, Scientia,” Nyx laughed, wounded.

“Hardly,” Ignis said, and if Noctis didn’t know him better he would have missed the compliment hidden in that single, dry word. “What sets you apart from all the other glaives in attendance?”

Crowe was mussing up her long, brown tresses for the motorcycle shoot; Tredd was in a bath towel, face doused in shaving cream as he ponderously pretended to swipe it off with a razor; and Libertus was lifting a few of the volunteers’ kids off the floor by his biceps.

“I don’t know. I can do magic tricks?” Nyx offered, calling up a burst of flame to his palm.

The fire gave his skin a coppery glow, dancing shadows accentuating the even lines of his abdomen. The light deepened the links of muscle that built his chest and brightened the subtle tattoos marked upon them. It burned his silvery blue eyes into hammered steel, which shifted around the gathered audience expectantly.

“That’ll do,” Ignis said, matter-of-factly, adjusting his glasses as he nudged Prompto into action.

From the next setting over, a shirtless Gladio snorted, “Show off,” as his artfully damp abs shined under the overhead lights. (“Eyes here, please,” his photographer advised, to which he quickly jerked back to attention.)

A few months later, all the way across the Cygillian Sea, Lunafreya Nox Fleuret received a parcel with Noctis’ diligent dog-based correspondence. She loved hearing about his passion projects, praying that one day she may contribute to them herself.

“What’s he up to this time, eh, Pryna?” she murmured, idly scratching the messenger behind the ears as she reviewed Noct’s notes.

He had provided a small, desktop copy of a calendar he’d organized for his chocobo charity, which he had only just been planning the last time he’d written. She laughed now, as he warned her of its contents – as if she were so naïve to human anatomy, given her doctoral discipline. Lucians she’d never met posed in scanty costumes across a variety of different scenes, smoldering out of the calendar in the name of veterans across the country.

She was particularly drawn to the August spread, where a mohawked stranger in leather pants and nothing else reclined upon a gothic divan, holding fire in his hand. He stared beyond the page with lowered eyelids, face pressed into his palm, one tattooed finger lining his temple in an affectation of profound thought. Given the dark dive of his smile and the knowing mischief in his eyes, what he could be thinking of left little to the imagination.

She was just about to start in on her response – warring with herself if she should ask after any models in particular – when from over her shoulder, a slithering voice inquired, “My, my, who is this handsome stranger?”

Ardyn Izunia leered unabashedly at the provocative photograph, which Luna smacked him in the face with as she screeched, “Get out of my room!”

The charity campaign was a huge success.

[andywinter16]

Shapeshifting glaives - Nyx Ulric- Coeurl

 He´s embodiement of cat in human skin, so when he changed nobody was that suprised it was coeurl. They would be more shocked if it wasn´t. So Nyx doesn´t have the typical coeurl colour, he´s more blackishly blue with silver spots and belly. Speaking of belly, Nyx adores belly rubs! But he´s little shit about them (just like every cat honestly), especially to Luche and Tredd (usually they get smacked by his paw, Luche is lowkey sad) Obviously Nyx´s much bigger than normal coeurl and heavier. He´s quite talkative kitty, let me tell ya. Nyx ultimately decided he would become a terapeutic coeurl. How that works, you may ask?

  Let me explain: when some of glaives are too stubborn to relax and go home cough Titus and Luche cough. He devised a few techniques: The first one is being annoying,(which may include borrowing their stuff or just straight up lay on the stuff) the second one is jump them and lay on them until they gave up, if they do Nyx will happily purr. (Funny thing, Titus was especially stubborn once picked him up and carried him around like a furry baby, glaives had photos of this) If any of the glaives are feeling low, Nyx will lick their face and let them cuddle him. (Ladies often use him as heating pad for their cramps) In his coeurl form he also likes zip people with his eletricity (nothing harmful, he´s just playful boy)

 Oh my, when Nyx changed, Luche swears he never saw such shit eating grin before. It happened during a lunch break, Nyx and the gang was happily chatting with Soni and Axis about the party that was planned for their captain when furious Tredd came to their table. “I swear to all the fucking Astrals, If Luche won´t come out of his office right now, I am tearing the fucking door down.” Nyx scrunched up his nose at that. “ Don´t tell me, he´s in that workholic mood again.” Libertus said angrily. “Fucking hell, Lazarus!”  Nyx immediately got up and marched with Tredd into Luche´s office. They found there only poor Mat who almost dropped his documents at such abrupt entrance. “Guys damn it, please knock next time!” he sighed. “ If you´re looking for Luche, then he´s at training grounds. He looks like a shit, btw.”  Both men hastily leave for the training ground, bidding Mat farewell.

 Nyx could feel electricity running hot in his veins. His eyes started glow in the dimmed light, like a storms in Galadh. Nyx knew something was happening, but right now it wasn´t important. They were half way through when Tredd noticed Luche who was training with Tobul. Even from such a distance, They could see how pale and tired  Luche was. The circles under his eyes looked purplish. “LAZARUS!” screamed Nyx, while throwing his kukri to Luche´s direction. That moment was so brief that people swore it was their imagination. When Nyx´s got from warp, he felt the magic wash over him in such intimate manner. It was overwhelming, eruption in every cell of the body. Nyx felt like so much emotions at once, like it stripped him into his bare core and reshaped it. 

 Luche was caught off guard when something heavy tackled him. It was beautiful black coeulr with silver spots, who was snarling at him. He was really out of it today. “ Nyx, don´t eat him! He would taste like a bitter shit.” Luche heard Tredd yell in somewhere in the background.  “ Nyx, get of me this instant.” The coeulr let out a angry roar. “Nyx Ulric, let me up or I swear it would not end well for you.” Luche´s eyes changed colour into light blue. “ Nyx, I - ... Did - Did you just lick my face?”  The grin that was plastered on coeurl was definitively answer. “ Stop ,hahahaha, stop it! Noo, that tickles, Nyx!” Luche started laugh so much it hurted.

Titus from his office witnessed the whole thing. “ I am fucking quitting this job.”

[dragonologist-phd]

Owlcatober Day 16 - Camping

With as far as Rosemary has come since her early adventuring days, it’s nice to know some things are still the same.

(also on ao3)

When Rosemary first asked to join the Varnling Host, she’d been warned that life on the road was hard. And of course she’d rolled her eyes at the warning; she wasn’t some soft-handed, silver-spoon lady of luxury. She wasn’t afraid of discomfort.

Now, she admits: maybe her life at the temple was a little soft. Maybe she’d grown accustomed to slow, easy days filled with lessons in poetry and medicine, and her peasant-girl hands have lost a few of their calluses.

She only admits it to herself, of course. To the rest of the party, she remains cheerful and optimistic. She will not act a burden and get herself sent back, no thank you. She will adjust, and in the meantime, she has magic enough to soothe her aching muscles when she wakes sore and stiff after another night sleeping on the forest floor.

She holds up remarkably well, in her own opinion, until Varn takes it upon himself to teach her swordplay.

It’s a shame. Under any other circumstances, Rosemary would be delighted to have Varn’s attention wholly upon her every evening, as he flexes his muscles and works himself into a sweat.

The only problem is that Rosemary is absolutely dreadful at swordplay.

“Perhaps it’s time to try my hand at something else?” she asks somewhat desperately after Varn disarms her for the fourth time. She kicks her shortsword over to him and casts a look around the camp. They’ve gathered a decent collection of weaponry- surely there’s something here she’s better suited for. “How about a longbow?”

“I’m not giving you a bow,” Varn says with mild amusement. “Not after you nearly took my ear off yesterday.”

“You’re being dramatic. My aim was not that bad.”

“I’m known for dramatics, I admit…but maybe aim for the monsters near Cephal next time, instead?”

Rosemary sticks out her tongue and hold out her middle finger, which only makes Varn laugh. It’s almost annoying, how handsomely amicable he is. He sheathes his sword, still smiling, and gives Rosemary a curious look. “Didn’t they teach you any martial skills at the temple?”

“We had lessons once a week, for an hour or so.” Rosemary frowns at the memory. “My instructor assigned me the rapier, but I never liked it much. I was terrible then, too, if you must know.”

“Why the assignment, then?”

“Oh, because my needlepoint is extraordinary.” Her poor performance is almost worth the look of utter confusion which crosses Varn’s face as he takes in her statement. Rosemary can’t hold back a laugh as she shakes her head at the man. “It’s a Shelynite thing. ‘Poetic parallelism between your different tools of trade.’”

“I’ll take your word for it.” He walks over to their supply of weapons and begins carefully lifting a few from the crate. “Anything else catch your eye? Daggers? Scimitar?”

“I’ll remind you I know quite a few spells. Some of them are even offensive.”

“True, but I’d prefer you know how to use something else, if you’re going to keep running into the thick of battles.”

Oh, now that is the clearest case of a pot calling the kettle black that Rosemary has ever heard. She crosses her arms and gives Varn a stern glare. “What choice do I have, when you rush in first? Duty demands I not let you skewer yourself on a goblin spear- at least not without me at hand to patch you up again.”

Varn turns to protest, but Rosemary interrupts him to grab at the latest weapon in his hands.

“How about this?” she asks, foisting the large thing away from him while he looks on in surprise.

“A glaive? It’s…heavy.”

It is, and it takes some effort for Rosemary to hold it upright. But the heaviness of it feels good. Sturdy. Like she could knock out an ogre, should the need arise.

“I like it,” she decides. “You know, I never got to try one of these before. My instructor said my calligraphy wasn’t good enough.”

“…Another Shelynite thing?”

“You catch on quick,” Rosemary says with a wink. Her flirtation is slightly ruined as the glaive nearly slips from her grasp, but she clambers it back in place before she can make a total fool of herself. “Oof. I’ll have to build up some muscles to handle this thing.”

“It’s all about consistent training,” Varn tells her. “Every night before bed.”

Rosemary is certain she could turn that into some kind of innuendo, but the glaive nearly slips from grasp again and she decides for once that flirting can wait. She does actually want to learn how to use this weapon now, and there’s no time like the present.

“Okay, then. Let’s get started.”

-

The memory of that night springs to Rosemary’s mind as she uses her glaive to knock Maegar Varn flat on his ass.

He’s still just as handsomely amicable as he ever was; hells, she’s never seen a man look so pleased to find himself bruised and splayed out on the dirt. She rolls her eyes ad bends over to offer him a hand up. “At least pretend to be trying to win, would you?”

“Nothing ‘pretend’ about this, Rose, and I’ve got the bruises to prove it. You’re more of a menace with that thing every passing day.”

“Practice makes perfect,” Rosemary quips. “As for the bruises…well, my spells still come and go, but I could try to give you a kiss and make it better?”

Varn grins readily, but Rosemary can suddenly feel the prickle of Cephal watching them with impatience. Right- they’re supposed to be demonstrating something to Varnhold’s new recruits right now. Varn must feel it, too, for he gives Rosemary a rueful smile. “Maybe later?”

It’s a smile that fills Rosemary with warmth, that simple pleasure of knowing that whatever changes, some certain things will always be there for her. “Definitely later.”

[wolffyluna]

I have been working on my "f/f VR streamers in not a death game" by writing little scenes outside of the story itself to get a feel for the character voices of the two leads. I think they're some fun little scenes, and seeing as they aren't going in the story itself, I can share them!

RatGlaive's Scene:

RatGlaive logged into the Coliseum, and logged into stream. “Hi all, just playing something casual. Don’t expect too much fancy footwork.”

27wheelsofcheese: ha, as if you can play casually

Norvegicus: and that’s why we love her! <3

The Coliseum was always good to make some easy content, a nice schedule filler. The only problem was the Coliseum after a patch was it’s own very specific brand of chaos. The crowd was a mess of jittery time travel as the netcode fought the lag. The lobby was silent except for the royalty free music, which was good, because otherwise it would be a cacophony of mostly racial slurs.

RatGlaive was partway through putting out an ad when the ‘bloop’ of a speech request came through.

“RatGlaive! I never thought I would see you slumming it here.” And that would be Matchiavelli. She’d friended him for a reason, he was good collaborator for content. He was a good heel. The problem was he didn’t seem to realise that. His model could best be described as “renaissance anime fuckboy,” the sort where some poor artist had spent the better part of a week modeling his doublet.

He always looked at her like he expected this time she would have bought a better model.

Sucked to be him, a free model made by furries with some jankily added equally free clothes was part of her brand now. “I wouldn’t say I’m slumming it. There’s some people here who know what they’re doing.”

“Oh, Rat, I’m wounded.”

“Would you like to be actually wounded?” That’s why they were both here. “C’mon, I’ll call bush dance rules if you don’t.”

Match grinned the broad grin of someone with expensive face tracking. “I never thought you’d offer your—“

“Do not finish that sentence.”

He gave a flourishy bow. “I would be delighted to join you in honourable combat.” He was slimy nerd who’d read too much Meyer, but she couldn’t even call him that because she was a Meyer nerd too. “Flat ground, first blood?”

She shrugged. “Sure.”

He put in the request, they were teleported to a blank box with gridlines.

Rat felt the lag disappear like surfacing from a pool filled with honey. She selected a saber from the menu, and pulled it out from her scabbard.

He looked at her quizzically past his own drawn sabre. “You? Without your big stick?”

“You see, Match, unlike some people, I read the patch notes.”

“It’s a poor fighter who changes what they do just for the meta.”

Well, he could think that. “Ready?”

“En garde!”

They fought each other carefully, feeling out the other’s reactions while trying to give away as little of their own as possible. They’d fought enough times she knew what he was like— careful and technical and an annoying arsehole if you let him be. Still, he’d had as much time to practice since last bout as she had.

It was true he’d used a sabre more than she had. She was inexperienced. She’d spent the last two days pulling all nighters helping out the wiki people. Getting all the new frame data and damages for each weapon, comparing the button inputs to the full body inputs, the works. It was a shame how’d they’d nerfed polearms, but she had the cold hard data to see how bad it was.

She liked her glaive, but she didn’t like her name enough to lose fights about it.

She focused on reading him, tuned out the comments flowing into her stream. (It was mostly “RatSabre! RatSabre!” and random emojis anyway.)

Match fought her like she was his mirror image.

Match fought her like she was still on 3.2.

A bad fighter followed the meta.

A good fighter forged their own path.

A great fighter made the meta her bitch.

She left an opening near her face.

The poor fool took it. He thrust straight at her.

She blocked him with the flat of her sword.

That very nice face tracking showed the moment of confusion. She could have parried that. She ‘should’ have parried that.

That moment lasted for less than a tenth of a second.

She swung at his face. “PLUS EIGHT ON BLOCK, FUCKER!”

She drew a stripe of blood across his cheek.

The Coliseum kept the pain turned low, but that still would have stung like hell. His sword clattered to the floor as he grabbed his cheek and worked his jaw. “That was unsporting,” he said, though he sounded secretly thrilled.

Rat leaned on the tip of her sabre. “You think I’d be sporting in a slum?”

Her chat became a mess of cheering and open mouthed emojis.

Sternumambush: YOOOOOOOOO

Veeringbiryani: FUCK MATCH GO RAT

27wheelsofcheese: OUR CASUAL QUEEN REIGNS SUPREME

And this was why you helped the nice wiki people get their frame data.

Lamatyave's Scene:

“Hello pianists and prose poets!” Lamatyave reached up and adjust the party hat on top of her model’s head. “Guess what day it is! It’s the fifth birthday of Catacomb of Cataclysm! I have to celebrate the birthday of my darlingest baby!” That everyone forgets I made. “Come on, let’s jump in.”

She did a new version of her loading screen dance while she waited for the server to connect. She’d put a copy on her private server— all the publically available copies had the pain turned up way too high for her tastes, even SplitValley— but it meant she missed out on the joys of a high budget paid server, like a proper CDN.

She popped into the windswept field outside the castle. She’d worked hard to make it look imposing, but it had been so many years and so much tinkering with it in Builder Mode that she forgot how much it looked over you in first person. Past her knew what she doing.

Lightning flashed behind the castle, carefully modulate to not cause problems with photosensitivity.

She opened the ornate wooden doors. There was deep echoing groan. She expected it— it was her voice, modulated and edited and fought to the death— but it still sent a chill up her spine.

“Now, you have to understand I made this five years ago. This map had graduated it’s bachelor’s and is planning to go for it’s master’s. Which means you can’t laugh too hard when I get my derriere handed to me.”

Flonkingbaggins: could you beat this when it first came out?

She smiled. “Aww, come on. Despite my reputation, I did playtest this one. I was the best player of this—“ she stuck her tongue out between her teeth. “—until I put this out into the public.”

And that got her chat laughing, and not doubting her abilities too much.

She summoned a torch and an eleven foot pole from her inventory. “It may have been a few years, but I do remember who designed this.”

Weirdobazooka: and the 60 foot rope?

She smiled wide, flicking her eyes to her preview in the corner of her screen to check face tracking had picked it up properly. “Never leave home without it!”

She walked through that first dark corridor. In the distance, an organ played “My Grandfather’s Clock” muffled by the sound of rain on a roof. …why was that the ambient music she had chosen for this floor?

She tapped her pole in front of her, feeling the satisfaction as she set off each dart trap in front of her. Catacombs had always run on reputation and sheer bloody mindedness. It was hard and tricksy, she’d worked for months to make it that way, but at the end of the day, even she could beat it. “See, easy peasy lemon squeasy. You guys are more scared than me!”

Flonkingbaggins: because we’ve seen you play before

Well, that was uncalled for. Another tap, another click, and a quick spark of satisfaction.

And then a jet of flame came barelling right towards her face.

She dived to the floor with a yelp.

The pain was low enough that it just felt like a hair dryer against her back.

The thing that made her heart rate spike was the flashing health bar in the corner. Down to 50% already, and she’d made this without health bar gradients (or any coyote time, which was going to make the jumping puzzle splendiforously fun if she ever got there.) “I should have rememembered I made this for the eleven foot pole people.”

The chat was laughing, at least.

She picked herself up, and checked for traps more carefully. It was for show mostly. She knew that flamethrower trap was meant to catch the overconfident, and then it was quiet. Give people time to stew in distant music and the fact the torch only shone 15 feet in front of them.

She reached the first right angle turn of the dungeon. She remembered what she put there well, she remembered the tips and tricks to get around it. She put out her torch.

She wasn’t in complete darkness, the game’s lighting engine wouldn’t let you do that, but she had to look hard to see where the walls were.

She dropped low, and shuffled slowly, hoping the stealth engine would be kind to her.

There was a growl.

The first corridor ogre.

She’d seen them a lot, from rearranging them throughout the dungeon. She’d got so sick of them, she’d never used them in any project again. She thought they would have lost all terror for her.

She’d forgotten exactly how they loomed over a crouching opponents. They low glow of their eyes, that reflected off the studs in their clubs just enough for you to see them properly.

Her audience wanted to hear her scream ‘like a little girl.’ They also wanted the fool Lamatyave Experience. “Hi there, stranger. You come here often?”

It wound up for a blow.

The hit felt like cat jumping onto her ribs, but the rushing blackness made her scream anyway.

She respawned back outside the castle, text floating into view: ‘You Have Lost to the Catacombs: One Time’

“Well, second time’s the charm? Maybe me and that troll might get to know each other a little better. ”

[luvsavos]

So, 4U Aiden is a treasure, you will definitely love him. Practically all he does is give you stuff (and he does that like…up to World.) And it’s mostly shiny rocks. (Which seems to be how he shows his affection, throughout the game he just gives monster gems to Sofia, the Guildmarm…my friend and I have…issues with her, honestly) he does this in World too, after you defeat Fatty he gives you some sort of crystal necklace (My friend and I chose to believe this is practically a confession from him

AH YES the Shiny Rock Gifts, i've also always seen that as a way he shows his affection too, gift giving, primarily shiny rocks and other similar things

very neurodivergent of him i too give shiny rocks as gifts to show my fondness and appreciation for my friends

i did Not know about him giving monster gems to sophia but given iirc he had a crush on her that both tracks and is also kind of funny to me given [vague hand gestures] her whole Thing LMAO

poor aiden, no competing with mr brachydios😔😔😔

i have the crystal pendant he gives after fatty on my main weapons, my fatalis glaive and lance, and i Refuse to take it off ever because it is very pretty and also 🥺 is a gift for me?? thank u aiden i will treasure this for the rest of my life

[freedomarrow]

My Good Friend Micaiah (Derogatory) || Leonardo & Kurthnaga

@goldoandragonprince​

Now this takes him back, in a way. He did not actually end up in jail back at Glaive, though it got close enough. No doubt this is an even bigger blast from the past for poor Kurthnaga - now Professor Kurthnaga, but back then, a Dragon prince for whom the prison cell was probably one of his first experiences of the world outside Goldoa.

He glances around, worried. The town had already received news of the imposter prior to their arrival, but that ended up being a double-edged sword as they, too, wound up attracting suspicion. Neither the documents from the Church nor his Academy uniform helped dispel it - the former brushed aside as forgery, the latter ignored as disguise - and now, they find themselves held in custody, presumably until the word reaches the monastery and they send someone else to vouch for them. Which might take several days.

“... And I’m sure you’d rather not wait for ages, right?” As though to answer his thoughts (an ability normal for his actual friend, this one was merely responding to what had been said aloud earlier), the “Micaiah” chimes in, and the more he listens to what feels almost like a mockery of Micaiah’s voice, the more annoyed Leonardo gets, even if he continues to successfully conceal it.

“So what do you say? Do we have a deal?” She continues, and Leonardo looks over at Kurthnaga, hoping the Dragon will chime in - not finding it in himself to answer for now.