#slowly building up my charm arsenal and no one can stop me

[sheepb1t]

YIPPPYYY I now have new Portal 2 charms in stock! They came out very nicely :) you can check them out here!

[themaribatpit]

Jasonette July Day 9: Pixie

Written by: The Maribat Pit  @jasonette-july-event

Prompt: Pixie

Rated: T

(By popular demand, a slight continuation of Game On @aespades, @certainmuffinbagelcalzone.)

A/n: Edits have been made because I noticed the paragraph errors AFTER posting this.

Marinette was really starting to miss the days of working with Chat Noir at that moment, and that was saying something.  “Bugaboo” and “My Lady” were starting to feel more tolerable when she wasn’t being called that every second of the day.  Being called “Pixie” regardless if she was Ladybug or Marinette, was really starting to get old, fast.  For reasons that she could not understand, that’s what Jason insisted on calling her.  Sure, she was a lot smaller compared to him, but that coupled with needing to hang back and let Red Hood and Arsenal deal out the heavier hits was starting to get on her nerves.  She was just as experienced as them, she had a mentor just like they did, and had been saving lives for just as long as they had.  Ever since she had joined them, she thought that she would be fighting alongside a team again.  Now she was either supporting them or using her sewing skills to add improvements to their suits.  She was in good hands, some might say hands that were a little too good.  All this frustrated her to no end because she liked Jason, she would have thought that someone who had been a vigilante from a young age would understand what it felt like to be constantly underestimated. 

“Unbelievable,” she snapped one night as she came home from another mission.  She pulled off her pink flats and threw them across the room as she entered her apartment.  She didn’t even get the chance to use her Miraculous, she was effectively closely guarded bait on that last mission.  She slumped on the bed in frustration and Tikki hovered over to her, her antenna drooping in concern.  “Some days I want to wipe that smile off of that stupid face, just to prove I can.” Marinette grumbled into her pillow.  She didn’t hate Jason, she knew that there was some good in him.  Roy was the more optimistic and cheerful of the duo, like Jason, he had also been mentored by a more experienced hero.  Jason was a lot more reserved and cynical by comparison, though he wasn’t a complete Ice Prince like his brother Damian. 

“Maybe it’s because they’ve been doing this for a little bit longer.” Tikki suggested, after Marinette complained about it for the umpteenth time.

“Batgirl and Black Bat are only a few years younger than me,” she reminded her, “and there’s no doubt that they could hold their own in a fight.  No one gives them stupid nicknames, just shortened versions of their real names out of costume.” Tikki awkwardly scratched the back of her head.  “I bet you that he barely remembers what my real name is.” Marinette was getting increasingly furious at the thought “it’s always ‘Pixie this’ and ‘Pixie that’. I know I’m shorter than him, but I have taken on giant robot dolls, literal monsters, and I once rode a dragon!” Marinette yelled. 

Marinette throws a pillow at Tikki, only for it to phase through her. “What does he think I do as Ladybug? Create Christmas presents with my Lucky Charm?!” 

 At this very unfortunate moment Jason happened to return back to their apartment with Roy in tow. “What’s got you riled up, Pixie Pop?” Jason quipped after seeing the frustrated look on her face. This was the last straw for Marinette, “Stop calling me that! Does it please you to demean me? Does it bring you joy to fucking bully me day in and day out?” Jason and Roy take a step back from Marinette’s outburst. Marinette continues “I have kept Paris safe ever since I was 13, I didn’t have the World's Greatest Detective or a Robin Hood cosplayer helping me. It’s always you two off saving the day while I’m the distraction. Do I have to remind you that I’ve beaten Robin and Red Robin?” 

 “So have we, right Roy?” Jason says look backwards to Roy. Roy meanwhile was slowly walking backwards with his arms up in surrender.

 “Don’t drag me into this please.” Roy pleaded. 

 Marinette continued her rant, “So why do you keep calling me Pixie Pop like I'm some pet or stuffed animal?” She storms up to Jason and pulls him down to her height by the collar. 

Roy sensed the tension and wanted absolutely no part in making it worse, “You know what? I’m gonna go get us some shawarma.”

Jason looked over at Roy “Really, Roy?” A slight scowl made it clear he knew Roy was essentially leaving him to face Marinette’s wrath.

“All I know is that they are open at four in the morning and I’m hungry, so I’ll be right back.” Roy said, and he left the room.  Just as he thought Roy was out of earshot, Jason heard sprinting down the hallway.  Roy had abandoned him to face the burning blue fire in Marinette’s eyes.

Marinette let go of him, she didn’t need them, she had made that absolutely clear. 

“I’m done,  I don’t expect you to understand what it’s like to be underestimated all of the time.” she muttered harshly, “to always be kept at arm's length, because no one trusts you to do anything right.”

Marinette had no idea just how deep her words cut him, and Jason couldn’t really blame her.  As far as she knew, compared to his brothers, he might as well just be ‘the one with the guns and leather jackets’.  He hadn’t really told her about what had happened all those years ago, he didn’t even like to think about it himself.  Roy was one of the few people who understood what he’d been through. It was true that both of them started out as sidekicks, maybe the red in their costumes helped them stand out from their mentor’s shadows.  Their time as young crime fighters had left their scars. They were blindsided when they found someone who had been a heroine since she was 13, and took to it with the same determination they had when they were younger, more innocent, more naïve. 

 As Marinette flitted around the room, gathering her things, every nerve in Jason’s body was screaming at him to stop her.   He reached out and grabbed her by the arm, trying not to think about just how small it felt around his hand.  “Look, I’m sorry,” he began. What could he say to her? That he knew exactly what that felt like? That the last thing they wanted was for her to end up like them?  That every hit they took in a fight was one that she wouldn’t have to, so that she wouldn’t turn out broken like they were?  The problem was she didn’t see them as broken, she saw them treating her like glass.  If she was put through the same ordeal, Jason had no idea what he would do.  If she shattered just like they did, then in a way, they would have failed her.  If she came out still whole, still brimming with light, then what did that say about them?

 Marinette pulled her arm away, “I’ll show you, then you’ll be sorry” she told him bitterly.  With her backpack in hand and shoes on her feet, she pushed past him and walked out the door.  

 Jason remains staring at the open door, regretting how he had treated her. He grew fond of her during their time together as ‘Red Arse Bug’.  She had a cute face, cute voice and she wasn’t afraid to get her hands dirty. “Stupid, stupid” he says to himself, facepalm at each syllable. Even with the now hostile relationship with Marinette, he knew he had to follow her. He had to stop her from making the same mistakes he did, so that she would not become like him. He put on his helmet and left to search for clues as to where Marinette would go and what she would do.

 Marinette wandered through Gotham city, unsure what to do now that she stormed out of the apartment she shared with Jason and Roy. She felt like everyone belittled her, Selena did, and now so did Jason. She needed to do something eye-catching, to prove to everyone that she didn’t need their help.

As she wanders past the Iceberg Lounge, she gets a spark of inspiration. If she could take down the Penguin single-handedly, nobody in Gotham would doubt her ever again. With unyielding determination she calls out “Spots On” and turns to Ladybug, ready to take on one of the cruelest crime lords in all of Gotham. Ladybug walks up to the front door and kicks it down, sending the door flying and knocking any unfortunate goons behind it. Penguin’s gang whipped out their guns, tire irons, pipes and anything that could count as a weapon and were now charging in to stop the intruder. 

 Marinette swings her yo-yo to wrap around one of the goon’s ankles, before swinging him around crashing him into several others. A guard points his rifle behind Ladybug, she spins around, sending her yo-yo towards the gun and pulling it from his hands. As the guards begin to group up together in an attempt to minimise the effectiveness of her yo-yo, Marinette looks up and begins to smirk. She flings her yo-yo upwards and hooks it onto a chandelier. She yanks it down, sending the chandelier crashing onto the unsuspecting guards. 

 Marinette dusts her hands and proceeds to walk through into the main hall. She proceeds to kick down that door too, she is then greeted by The Penguin surrounded by his gang. “I’m taking you down Cobblepot.” She shouts, swinging her yo-yo as if it was a lasso, preparing for a fight.

 The Penguin stands up from the seat of his large chair. “What are all you idiots waiting for?” He shouts all around him. He points his umbrella at Ladybug, and begins shooting his umbrella gun. “Get her!” The penguin roars, at this cue every gangster charges at Ladybug. 

 Marinette gracefully dodges and weaves around Penguin’s army, knocking each one out one by one. Until only The Penguin remains, she wraps her yo-yo around his umbrella, easily disarming one of Gotham’s most wanted. She walks towards The Penguin, slowly unravelling her yo-yo in anticipation of tying him up and sending him to Arkham Asylum. 

 The Penguin takes out a little remote control from his suit pocket, “It's not over yet.” he snarls and pushes a button. At that moment the entire building shakes.

“Born on a Monday” a voice groaned, followed by another loud thud. “Christened on a Tuesday.” the same voice groaned. Then a giant hand shoots up from beneath the floor, “SOLOMON GRUNDY” roared the giant as it emerged from the floor. 

 Red Hood and Arsenal had been watching the fight from a careful distance outside the Iceberg Lounge.  “Well, she’s managed to take on Penguins goons just fine,” Arsenal observed through the small pair of binoculars,  “she’s certainly had plenty of time to get very creative with that yo-yo”.

Red Hood’s hand was still itching to reach for one of his pistols, ready to jump in at the first sign of trouble. “By the way, how was your shawarma?” he asked sarcastically.

Arsenal looked over at him, raising an eyebrow “Hey, I’m not the one who said the one thing that just made her angrier, you were on your own there.”

“Nice to know you had my back.” he grumbled.

“Oh I do in a fight, you just decided to be an ass and poke the angry girl with a stick.” Arsenal pointed out.

Their banter was interrupted by an earth shattering thud, following a loud groan “Born on a Monday.” At that moment their blood ran cold. Red Hood and Arsenal rushed towards the Iceberg Lounge. Both worried for Ladybug and aware of what comes after that dreadful nursery rhyme. 

 “What are you two doing here? I can handle this.” growled Ladybug as Red Hood and Arsenal arrived. 

 Before either Red Hood or Arsenal could answer, they were interrupted by Solomon Grundy smashing the ground where Ladybug was standing. Ladybug gracefully dodged the punch, grappling onto a ceiling lamp to swing towards Grundy with a kick. 

 The giant grabbed Ladybug while she was mid-air and threw her towards her partners. Red Hood catches her, holding her tightly as the two fly across the room. He shields her from the shock, taking the brunt of the impact as they crash into the wall. 

 Red Hood groans “You okay?” Ladybug looks up to see she was relatively unharmed, but Red Hood had taken the brunt of the throw. Concern visible on her face as she sees Red Hood’s damaged helmet, and the bruised and bloodied face beneath.  

 Their quiet moment together was interrupted by Arsenal's cries for help. Every arrow he had in his quiver wasn’t making a dent in Solomon Grundy. Ladybug decides to cast Lucky Charm in desperation, and swings her yo-yo up. The ladybugs converge to form...a polka-dotted stick of dynamite. 

 “Arsenal!” She called. “Tie this to the end of an arrow, Red Hood and I will keep it busy.” She tosses the dynamite to Arsenal and tells Red Hood to tie Grundy down.

 Ladybug using her yo-yo grabs on to Solomon Grundy’s left arm while Red Hood uses his grappling hook to hold on to his right arm. Leaving Grundy exposed and immobile, giving Arsenal the opportunity for a clear unobstructed target. 

 Arsenal draws and aims the special Lucky Charm Explosive Arrow. The giant zombie growls “Arrow Boy no hurt Grundy.” 

 “Arrow Boy yes hurt Grundy” quipped Arsenal, before releasing the arrow causing a thunderous explosion into Solomon Grundy’s face. The giant slumps, Ladybug and Red Hood quickly release their hold and watch its body fall back into the hole in which it came from. 

 Solomon Grundy’s body lays motionless in the basement of the Iceberg Lounge as the three peer over the hole in the ground, “Let’s get outta here before the GCPD or worse, Batman arrive” Red Hood points to the front door, and the three of them leave the lounge to head back to their apartment.

As the three arrive home, they each find a nice comfortable spot to collapse onto. Jason claimed the sofa, slumped down Roy in the middle of the living room floor and Marinette sat at the dining table. “I vote for a week off.” groaned Roy.

“I second that motion” agreed Jason. 

“I still have design work to do.” Marinette told them, not really looking at either of them at that moment.  She was torn between appreciating their help, and frustrated that she hadn’t been able to handle the situation herself like she thought.

“Still that was one hell of a fight, and hey, you still managed to take on a squad of goons by yourself.”  Roy said, “I’m so proud” he said dramatically pretending to wipe away a happy tear. 

He nudged Jason in the leg, “um, yeah, good work” he said awkwardly, slightly lost in thought. Marinette smiled slightly, before turning her attention back to her little fairy friend perched on the table. 

“So does this mean Red Arse Bug is back together?” Roy asked enthusiastically, Marinette wasn’t really paying attention. 

The name still needed work, for one thing.  For once Marinette felt like her powers were being used in harmony with their abilities, but she wasn’t sure if it was a feeling that she should get used to.  Marinette could still vividly remember seeing Jason’s bruised and bloodied face beneath his helmet.  Jason stood up and walked over to the fridge, looking for ice to dull the swelling on his face.

“Not with that name,” Jason grumbled, not entirely sure if Marinette was willing to stay after their argument.  Someday, somehow, he would tell her the full story of what happened to him.  Right now, that was a whole Pandora’s Box that he just wasn’t prepared to open.  Nestled at the bottom of that box was hope, a hope that no one else would meet that same fate.

“...Lucky Shot?”  Marinette suggested as she carried Tikki over to the sofa and sat down.  Both Jason and Roy looked up, it made some sense, seeing as they both used projectiles and she had her lucky charms.  Jason tentatively made his way back to the sofa, ice pack in hand.

“Sounds better than ‘Red Arse Bug’.” Jason remarked, as he sat back down. 

“Well, let’s see if our little adventure made the news” Roy said, as he reached for the TV remote.  Jason tuned out Vicki Vale’s voice as she reported on the fight that took place at the Iceberg Lounge. 

As Roy slept at their feet, Jason knew if they were going to continue working together as a team, they couldn’t keep her in the dark any longer.  

“Hey Marinette.” Jason speaks softly. Marinette's ears perk in surprise, hearing speak her name for the first time. “I’m sorry, for what I said and how we treated you. You’re right.” He gestures to the sleeping Roy on the floor, “Both of us started out as sidekicks, we both grew up in the shadows of Batman and Green Arrow. Both old men with impossibly high standards, everything we did was never enough.”   Marinette listened intently as she shuffled closer to him on the sofa.  “We’ve both been to hell and back, Marinette. Literally in my case.” he explained, Marinette glanced down at Tikki for a moment, as if silently asking if her magic was somehow involved in this.  “But always remember, we have each other’s backs, just like The Three Musketeers.” Jason told her, Marinette giggles at his literary reference.

“Roy’s Porthos, you’re Aramis, I guess that makes me D’Artagnan.” Marinette chimes. Jason loved to see that hopeful smile on her face.  What scared him the most was the idea that something or someone would try and take that away from her.  They couldn’t keep treating her like glass, and they couldn’t keep treating her like a sidekick if they wanted to keep her from making their mistakes.  They were all going to fight like hell to make sure this world didn’t break her the way it broke them.  Marinette leaned in close and rested her head on his shoulder.  He felt her calm even breathing, fanning his neck as she slept peacefully at his side.

[monstersdownthepath]

Spiritual Spotlight: Rovagug, the Rough Beast

Chaotic Evil Qlippoth Deity of Destruction, Disaster, and Wrath

Domains: Chaos, Destruction, Evil, War, Weather Subdomains: Blood, Catastrophe, Corruption, Demon, Hatred, Rage, Storms

Inner Sea Gods, pg. 124~131

Obedience: Smash an assortment of items worth at least 10 gp, preferably something fragile, aesthetically beautiful, or with significance to a good-aligned deity (particularly Sarenrae). Roll in the shards of the destroyed items, howling and shouting praises and curses invoking the Rough Beast, until the shards draw blood and your lungs ache. Benefit: Gain a +4 bonus on attack and damage rolls against objects.

It is impossible to hide your faith in the Great Destroyer, is what I’m saying. I know I haven’t said anything, but look at that. Do I need to? You need to destroy a pretty hefty (for a commoner) handful of goods, and you need to do it incredibly loudly and incredibly obviously. You don’t get to pray quietly to Rovagug, no, you have to SCREAM your praise until your lungs ache while rolling joyfully around in shards of broken garbage. The Obedience specifically requires you to draw blood with the shards, as well, so no cheating by getting a hoard of pillows and blankets and ripping them to bits. You need to put the whole bed in there, frame and all!

Thankfully, actually obtaining enough items to use for this Obedience is rather simple. Normally player characters wouldn’t look twice at enemy gear if it wasn’t enchanted, but the fact of the matter is that even the bargain-basement leather armor is worth 10gp and just two or three simple weapons will add up to 10gp quickly. A normal adventurer that frequently goes on missions will have no shortage of scrap to shatter and discard, and even a single goblin camp can often produce enough of a yield to carry you for several days. The only real problem is whenever you rejoin society, as worship of the Rough Beast is often severely punished; there’s a reason most of Rovagug’s cultists live in the wilderness, where their screaming and smashing won’t draw attention.

The benefit is only truly useful if you go for a sunder build, otherwise, you’ll likely very rarely ever see its full power aside from the odd bit of door-kicking and rope-snapping. For people who enjoy destroying enemy gear while it’s still on them, though, a +4 to both damage and ATTACK rolls is incredible.

Boons are gathered slowly, typically gained at levels 12, 16, and 20. However, you can take the Diverse Obedience feat to gain them at levels 10, 14, and 18 instead, and worshipers of Evil deities can enter the Evangelist, Exalted, or Sentinel Prestige Classes as early as level 8, which allows you to gain the Boons as early as levels 10, 13, and 16 if entered as soon as they’re available. Unless you take Diverse Obedience or enter the listed prestige classes, you may only take the Exalted Boons.

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EVANGELIST

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Boon 1: Agent of the Beast. Gain Protection From Good 3/day, Align Weapon (Evil only) 2/day, or Magic Circle Against Good 1/day.

We’ve gone over the general usefulness of ProFroGo and Align Weapon before, with Align Weapon getting the short end of the stick here since creatures with DR/Evil are much less common than ones with DR/Good. However, since you’re an agent of Rovagug, you’re likely to be accosted at some point by Good Outsiders and their agents... at which point it’s much better to have Protection, or even Magic Circle in your arsenal.

ProFroGo is also a little less useful than ProFroEv is because, strangely, Good Outsiders are more likely to wield weapons than Evil ones, so they’re less inclined to use the natural attacks that ProFro would normally thwart. They’re also significantly less likely to possess or control you, BUT they ARE likely to use forms of charms and compulsion to steer your path, making ProFro equally as valuable against Evil or Good.

The only thing we really need to discuss, then, is the usefulness of Magic Circle Against Good. As a defensive measure it’s impeccable, though frustratingly easy to bypass with ranged attacks, but using it to bar the path of enemy Outsiders and summoned beasts or to serve as sort of a “bouncer” at a gate to brush charms and compulsions off your visitors and guests is quite strong. The power to snare creatures called into the plane for days in order to interrogate it or negotiate with it is a more niche use, but you never know when you’ll have to catch an enemy caster’s called bodyguard or stop an angel from smiting your team.

Boon 2: Destructive Spell: Whenever you cast a spell that deals hitpoint damage and has a casting time of 1 standard action or less, you may instead make its casting time a full-round action. If you do, its save DC is increased by +4 and any 1s rolled for the damage become 2s.

Evangelists can technically be from any class, meaning this ability has a chance to do absolutely nothing.

If you CAN cast spells, though? Please note that this ability has no per-day limit. None. It is an at-will ability. Just an at-will +4 to the DC of any of Pathfinder’s infinite number of spells which deal hitpoint damage at the cost of giving up your move action for the round. Do I really need to go into how Big that is? Probably! Do I want to go into how Big that is? Not really, since it’s an otherwise pretty boring ability.

It’s insanely strong, mind, especially if you can get yourself into a spot that’s difficult for your enemies to reach (such as in midair), though there is a bit of fiddly wiggly weirdness in that as written it technically affects spells like Create Pit. Spells which create a hostile environment rather than doing direct damage, Talk it out with your DM ahead of time! Until then, though, enjoy the free +4 to the DC of your Fireballs, Harms, and Disintegrates.

Boon 3: The Destroyer’s Gifts: You gain an extra spell slot of the highest level you can cast. This spell slot may be used to cast your own spells, or you may use this slot to hold a spell from the Chaos or Destruction Cleric Domains. You may cast from the Domains only once per day.

Oh yeah extra slots! Evangelists really get the Boring But Practical gifts here, but this one is at least made extra spicy by the addition of giving your character access to a pair of Cleric Domains. By the time you get this spell, you should be able to cast level 7 or 8 magic, meaning you can use Word of Chaos, Cloak of Chaos, Earthquake, or Disintegrate. A few more levels and you can fit in Implosion or Summon Monster IX! I’d personally prefer SM9 in my list, since Rovagug’s alignment means you can summon a Nalfashnee or Glabrezu to your aid.

Note, though, that unlike most Boons, these are not spell-likes. You must provide components for them! However, this also means that you can slap additional Metamagic feats onto them should you desire! The spell slot is typically devoted to the highest level magic in the Domains but if you, say, have Heighten Spell or wish to Quicken a Dispel Law or Shout, you can totally get away with that. I mean you can also be boring and just stuff your own spells in there, but that seems like a waste of a good Summon Monster IX or Extended Earthquake.

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EXALTED

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Boon 1: Destructive Force. Gain Break 3/day, Bull’s Strength 2/day, or Shatter 1/day.

I’ve spoken on Shatter before (scroll down to Thuskchoon) but, to complete my incomplete thoughts from that page, being able to destroy an item weighing up to 100lbs (which rises by 10 per level) without making any obvious moves can be invaluable if you use it just before a fight breaks out to obliterate enemy armor, shields, or weapons, but it has no effect on magical items, making it fall off as you level up.

Eeeehhh, I’d just go with Bull’s Strength most of the time. Break, well, breaks a single item in Medium range, in that the item itself gains the broken condition, which isn’t super special when you compare it to Shatter, which destroys the item outright if it fails its save. Break requires you to cast it again on something that’s already broken in order to destroy anything, and is negated by a successful save. There IS the benefit, however, that Break CAN target magical items, letting you shatter staves, wands, and enchanted equipment... but I don’t know if that’s a good use of your action.

I’m still not fully convinced either of them are worth taking over the less funny but more useful Bull’s Strength, though, since Break is also negated if the item succeeds a Fortitude save against a level 1 spell (meaning its DC is Cha mod + 11), and attended items can use their attendee’s saves. If you’re going to risk everything on a Save or Suck, just use Shatter to blow up their equipment with only one spell.

Boon 2: Bestow Destructive Smite. As a standard action, you may expend one use of your Destructive Smite ability and grant it to an ally within 30ft for 1 round. Your ally uses your level to calculate the damage of their smite. If you do not have access to the Destruction Domain, you gain access to Destructive Smite, but only for your personal use.

This ability has a lot of problems, but the biggest and most egregious one is that it has no text that changes the fact that Destructive Smite’s power only scales with your Cleric level, NOT your Exalted level. Without DM fiat, your smite will be stuck dealing only an underwhelming 4 damage unless you slow down your Boon’s progression in order to take more levels of Cleric.

Even without acknowledging that oversight, giving up your standard action to let an ally deal anywhere from 4 to 12 extra damage (provided they connect with all of their attacks) is absolutely pathetic. Using the smite on yourself at that point is barely worth it, and it’s a free action!

TERRIBLE showing, Rovagug. Please tell me your Exalted aren’t completely screwed...

Boon 3:  Once per day, you may summon a pair of Nyogoth Qlippoth to your side. You gain telepathy out to a range of 100ft to communicate with them, and they obey your commands perfectly for 1 minute per Hit Dice you possess. The qlippoth don’t follow commands that would cause them to act in overtly good or lawful ways. Such commands not only earn terrifying roars from the creatures, but could cause the nyogoths to attack you if the command is particularly egregious. 

Oh! Ok, then! There IS a cherry on top of this terrible mud sundae! It’s not really worth putting up with a million levels of lackluster abilities, but looking at the ability in a vacuum? It’s great!

Nyogoth are semi-tanky bruisers that can attack from both a range and in melee with acidic projectiles and biting maws, and have a bit of utility in their 7/day Fear to scatter enemies and their 1/day Acid Fog to provide cover and cleave through crowds of foes. Since they’re immune to Acid damage, they can also wade into their own fog to malice creatures inside... And their numerous limbs make them wonderful at grappling their victims and keeping them inside the acidic vapors.

And speaking of grappling: their 30ft flight speed and 16 Strength means they can technically pick enemies and allies up to suspend them in midair. In a pinch, they can make a poor-man’s hot air balloon to get over gaps... Just significantly slimier, much toothier, and way more filled with acid than a normal balloon. I don’t think it’s worth serving as Rovagug’s Exalted to summon them, but they at least don’t feel like a letdown.

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SENTINEL

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Boon 1: Inexorable Death. Gain Doom 3/day, Death Knell 2/day, or inflict Serious Wounds 1/day.

DOOM is a funny spell to me. You’d expect it to have a terrifying and dramatic effect, but it’s a level 1 spell that makes the target shaken. For minutes at a time, yes, but shaken as a status effect has starts to become less and less effective around level 6, and you have to be at least level 10 to gain this ability. It’s also negated entirely by a save, making an already-weak spell even less useful.

Death Knell, as always, is one-dimensional but useful in that single dimension. A Sentinel will likely have more success merely coup-de-gracing a downed foe, but Death Knell grants you several benefits that make casting it actually worthwhile. An extra bit of temp HP and a boost to Strength that makes you slightly more deadly, and as the beefy and armor-clad Sentinel, you can afford to get into touch range to cast this spell even if other enemies are still around. It’s especially useful against bosses with medical mooks!

Inflict Serious Wounds deals a decent 3d8+10 (max +15) damage, but most of the time it’s not worth giving up your attack action to do. Death Knell is actually the choice here for once, unless you have some Undead in your party (or someone with Negative Energy Affinity)... though only really if you have no other way to heal them.

Boon 2: Wicked Claws. Your fingernails grow into horrible, chitinous talons that resemble insectoid spurs, or the fangs of a terrible beast. You gain a pair of claw attacks that are a primary natural attack which deal 1d8 Slashing damage if you are Medium, 1d6 if you are Small.

I said it before and I’ll say it again: Rovagug is current reigning king of Boring But Practical Boons. An extra pair of natural attacks never hurts (you, i mean; it’ll hurt everyone else plenty) and assures that you’re always armed even if disarmed. You even get heightened base damage when compared to normal claws of your size category! The downsides are primarily that it’s only a standard claw attack, though; they aren’t magical and get no tricks like piercing DR or adding Rake or bleed.

Unfortunately, that means that by the time you get this, you’ve likely already got a powerful and enchanted weapon, relegating the claws to a single extra attack you get to make whenever you full-attack. It’s an extra 1d8+Str damage made at your highest BAB, but it’s nothing grand.

Boon 3: Disintegrating Blow. 1/day as a free action, you may designate your next attack as a Disintegrating Blow. If the attack hits, the target is affected by the Disintegrate spell as if it were cast by a Wizard whose level equals your HD (max 20). If the attack misses, the ability is wasted.

All RIGHT! Finally, one that’s not boring! ... or practical.

Granted, you likely have ways to guarantee that your attack will connect, but its’ a 1/day that... deals...

32d6 untyped damage (average: 105).........

and you can shoot it via an arrow, sling bolt, or even a thrown rock.............

hwoof.... Alright, alright, I’ll agree on this: This is NOT a case of “1/days negated by a save that I Do Not Like” because slapping someone for a whole 32d6 (+2d6 per level) damage ON TOP of your weapon’s damage is pretty beefy. Even if they succeed their save they take 5d6 damage, turning it from a huge chunk into what is basically an irresistible Sneak Attack, and you still have all your other attacks behind that one to back it up. Plus, think of the intimidation factor! Just running up to someone and hitting them so hard they stop being.

I’ll throw Rovagug a bone here and say that I enjoy this ability even if it’s only 1/day, especially since it works with the claws he’s gifted you (as well as any other natural attacks you possess, including ones gained from Improved Unarmed Strike), which allows you to slap someone so hard they turn to dust.

You can read more about him here.

[chaotic-neutral-logic-sass]

?? I'm crazy??

So I've been playing around with a old writing and thought 'why not post it' and I might try to continue writing if I get a good response? Opinions are very welcome, so is criticism. (There are a ton of references in this)

"ARE YOU INSANE" He shouted over the comlink to which his accomplice responded "My codename is not Death Wish for nothing". Upon hearing that he pinched the bridge of his nose closing his eyes to recompose himself. He then muttered into the comlink "I swear to God Payton if you get caught, with your butt in the vents of the enemy headquarters, That you're suppose to be analyzing from AFAR.-" she cut him off with "You will need a Xanax and then resume assisting me. Am I not far from the truth?" He responded with "I can feel you roll your eyes from here, and maybe if you do it hard enough you'll find a brain back there" Payton huffed and said "out of the two of us. Which one of us can take a gun apart and reassemble it with their eyes closed, hmm?" Too which Roman said quite pleased with himself "can you hack into the Pentagon?" She facepalmed.

He laughed that she didn't have a come back at last, although it didn't last long cause her face lit up even though he couldn't see and she said "can you bleed for 7 days and not die?" He huffed and said "How about we get back to the task at hand?" "Touche" as she crawled threw the vents she saw an exit to the main room of the Warehouse. She put a finger to her comlink and asked Roman "are there any heat signatures in the room below me?" Right after he heard her he hurriedly put away his Pringles and took a big gulp of his black coffee before typing away at his screen to answer her question. Wile she waited she chewed on her lip in anticipation. It had been nasty habit of hers since she was a kid. "Yep" at that she skillfully and silently jumped through the vent landing in a crouch.

Then scanning the room before she came to the realization that she had screwed up. when she made eye contact with a security camera her hand immediately shot up to her earpiece. As she started running for the exit she spoke into her comlink. Realizing he was right "Ummmmm.... You may or may not need that Xanax I was talking about. Can you send me the best route out of here?" afterwards he instantly shot out of his seat leaning over his desk staring at his screen. With a slightly annoyed voice he asked as he pulled up the blueprints for the building she was running through. "what did you do now?!" "I made eye contact with a security camera" she huffed out as she ran."ok, I sent you the way out" she smirked, "thanks" at that he leaned back in his chair and let out a sarcastic, self pitying laugh. With that he said "after this job can I get my sanity back?" As she exited the building jogging to her Harley Davidson she cherished, she asked "is that a rhetorical question or.......?" She let her sentence trall off.

He ran a hand through his dark curly hair, as a small smile rested on his face he responded "rhetorical, I highly doubt boss man will give it back." She smirked and inquired "what? Isnt this fun?" He shook his head and quickly replied with "Nah, I'm just getting bored of watching you get thrown off buildings" she scoffed. "I take personal offense too that comment, I only fall off a building when i need too". He rolled his grey eyes for what felt to be the hundredth time. He replied, "How about we skip too the part where you save the day and I get too; Oh, I don't know swoon?" He smirked. She rolled her green eyes, and with a shake of her head she said "thought we already did that, and it's team work". He wore a shocked expression. Then he smiled and said "Thanks. Meet you at headquarters, Daredevil out."

She smiled then shook her head, and started heading that direction. Now there boss happened to be her little brother, although not so little being 6'3, but he earned his place in the hierarchy he was the second most skilled agent in the force, first being Payton. His code name was Demon, but in the public he by Damian Batson.

As Payton pulled up in the parking garage and saw a familiar neon orange Jeep with Roman leaning against the tailgate on his phone. He looked fairly casual in Black jeans and a red t-shirt compared to her skin tight catsuit she only wore for missions and with a utility belt and a leather jacket. The moment he looked up his eyes widened significantly, it was quite a comical sight.

After she parked next to his neon ride she turned around to be met with him standing there gawking at her. His mouth was wide open. She commented "Are you just going to stand there and gawk?" He replied with a simple "Yes" she said "Well stop it, you look stupid" and with that the short brunette started walking towards the elevator. He Quickly caught up considering he towed over her with his 6'2 compared too her 5'4.

The elevator ride was quite till she piped up with some interesting news "I heard that little bro hasn't slept since they brought the kid home" after a moment of silence they both burst out laughing. The reason for this is because their boss was NOT a people person, infact when people learned he had a wifey they were astonished.

After Roman remembered how to breathe he chuckled out "I was dreading this staff meeting, now I'm actually looking forward to this. It's going to be so amusing" they both shared a mischievous grin as the elevator door opened. "DAREDEVIL!" Upon hearing his codename Roman called out a uncertain "Yes?" And turned around followed by Payton to see a agent who's codename happen to be Sherlock A.k.a. Tim Redder a blue eyed ravenette that stood at 5'6,behind them only to see him trip and all of his papers too go airborn.

Tim just looked at the ceiling with a defeated look and closed his sleep deprived eyes that had dark circles under them for a second. While he was doing that Payton grabbed all his papers, when he opened his eyes they instantly widened. Nobody help him or gave him credit. Heck he was one of the most underappreciated agents, so to say that he was surprised was a under statement. As Roman opened his mouth to ask the poor guy if he's ok, Tim cut him off with "I'm so,so very much sorry. I was going to-" this time Payton cut him off while handing him his papers "- it's fine, we don't mind. What got you in such a hurry?" Tim looked at them like they were on the brink of insanity and said "The staff meeting -" he checked his watch "- started five minutes ago" as he checked the time so did they, Payton quirked a perfectly plucked eyebrow. Roman held up a finger signaling them to wait a minute and checked his phone, a half second later he turned his phone toward Tim and as his eyes glanced at the screen his expression slowly morphed into one of embarrassment. With his cherry dusted cheeks he let out a nervous laugh and scratched the back of his head looking at the floor. At this Payton and Roman shared a look, hesitantly he asked the embarrassed man "Do you know what day it is?" See Timmy man had a history of not sleeping, and too add on top he's 90% caffeine. Back to the point, Tim thought for a second and unsurely replied back with "Friday?" at this they shared another glance as Payton barked out a laugh. While Roman tried to hold some giggles back. Tim's confusion was very visible, he scrunched up his eyebrows and tilted his head where he looked like on of those adorable confused puppies. Payton sputtered out "it's Tuesday" at this her partner finally bust out laughing. Tim let out a very long drawn out "CCCCCCRRRRRRAAAAAAPPPPP" as Payton finished chuckling she said "you're fine, in fact we should get going to the meeting if we want to be early" as they walked Roman opened his mouth only to be cut off by one voice"AYE BATSON!!!-" well two voices "-THINK FAST!!" At this Payton whipped around to catch a katana mid air and see three of her best friends; Clint Hawk, Roy Arrow and Jason Hoods. They where the most knowledgeable Weapons experts in the Shadows. Clint was about 5'8 and had brown eyes and brown hair, his codename was Falcon. Roy had fire truck red hair, light blue eyes and was about 6'1 his codename was Arsenal. Jason was about 6'3 with black hair that had a white highlight and teal eyes. With a nose that had been broken so many times it was crooked, his codename was Arkham Knight. As she caught the katana, Tim let out a squeaking noise and jumped.

While Roman just turned around and sighed. After knowing them for about four years he was used to this kind of shit. As she marveled at the katana, she was in awe of its earie elegance. It was roughly 3 feet long and solid black, the handle was wrapped in blood red satin ribbon with a small scythe charm on the end. She then flipped the sword in the air catching it by the handle. By this time Tim had went ahead to the meeting, Roman was still standing there at her side watching her. Roy was holding the sword seath. Clint had went ahead with Tim. Jason crossed his arms and smirked, surprisingly not hot in his neon red hoodie. When Payton looked up at them and grinned evily, Roman smirked knowing her, while Jason gained a confused expression and Roy turned to the color of a sheet looking completely horrified.

She lowly said "So boys, love the katana" then Burst out laughing with Roman at their expressions, and grabbed the cover and adding it to her belt putting the Katana in its sheath. Her comrade laughed out "What? Ya scared?" At this point Roy was glaring at them, while Hoods just rolled his eyes and said "No, we had this horrified expression on our faces for fun?!" The glaring red head just huffed and said "let's go ahead and get too this meeting" as they entered the board room they were met with a funny sight of their boss. He was sitting at the head of the table with his arms folded under his head snoring loudly. All you could see of his head was his signature black messy hair. While Tim was going through his papers and Clint was playing on his phone like that was a normal every day thing. Roy and Jason shared a shrug and took their seats, meanwhile Roman and Payton nodded too each other and also took their seats. Payton's chair was to the left of her sibling's, and Roman's was to the right. While she YouTubed her master plan, Roman got his phone in video mode to record this. As she found the right video before she hit play she made sure the volume was max and right next to Damian's ear. With that she hit play on the audio recording of one of the most annoying sounds know to man: a babies screaming.

At this his Bright Green eyes shot open, he jumped out of his chair landing on the floor not so gracefully. Groggily looking for the thing making the scouce of announce and Awakening. As Damian saw his surroundings he instantly scowled and debated on revenge options. But decided against it, she turned off the sound and smiled innocently while saying " Morn'in lil bro, enjoy your nap?-"putting her phone in her pocket and turning to Roman she continued "- thanks for the assistance" Roman also grinned and replied "no probs, I'll send it to you" turning too the groggy man glaring at Payton and nodding "sup". She turned back to her sibling and ask "Why ya glaring Dami?" The grumpy man replied with "hoping for spontaneous combustion" she now held a very fake hurt expression with a hand on her heart, over dramatically sticking out her bottom lip and asked with a horrible British accent "honestly dear brother you wound me" said sibling responded with "I hate you" "why darling? I'm lovely" Tim rolled his eyes and piped up "alright, alright let's start with the meeting. You too can finish your glaring contest later"

}~(SpongeBob voice) 3 hours later~{

Now it was just Roman, Payton and Damian in the board room. Payton felt the need to enlarge the meaning BORED. Maybe adding a smidge of annoyance, Roman was drumming his fingers on the table and Damian was grinding his teeth. She had her boots up on the table and her arms crossed. While her incompliance had his head propped up on his hand on the desk also bored out of his mind.

After going through the last of the files Tim gave him. Damian let out a sigh and said "I've got another mission for you, the packet is at your apartment. Report back tomorrow". With that he was gone. As they walked to the elevator and waited Payton said " Ya'know what Vader's wife's name is?-" while pointing to the elevator "- ELLA-VADER" smirking at his face, she turned too the said object waiting for their trun. He shook his head, his face held a lazy smile. "so what do ya think of the sword?" He inquired "It's perfect. I mean the handle is so soft, and it's so so pretty. Plu-" She went on, only to be cut off "Can you please not talk about a sword like most females talk about dresses?" To that she crossed she arms angrily and scoffed " first of all, since when do I talk about dresses like that, and it is a katana." By now they were in the elevator heading back to the parking garage and he simply shrugged and nonchalantly asked "What's the difference?" At this her hazel eyes widened significantly and stared at him in shock then said "how about I put this in simpleton terms, you know how you call vehicles automobiles and there are different types like trucks, cars and SUVs same with swords" she explained with a good bit of hand gestures and flailing of the arms. As the elevator door opened they exited both heading towards their vehicles she added on "and since I came here on my bike you're going to have to let it ride with you" and with that she was gone.

×|}~ At a random Cafe somewhere~{|×

As her deep beautiful blue orbs concentrated on the daily paper, she blinked. Reconcentrating back on the previous words before the spot was lost.

Her companion let out a loud overdramatic groan while rubing the back of his neck. At this she set her paper down and leaned forward putting her chin on her palm, resting her elbow on the table top. A amused eye brow raised, she inquired her British accent being quiet thick "Darling Peter, what's got your nickers in a twist little brother?" his response was too lay his head on the table then he said with an equally thick accent "I'M BORED, you've been nose deep in that bloody paper for an hour" at this exclaimed with a very fake gasp while giggling and hitting his arm in a playful manner. "Peter Francis Grace watch your language" all he did in response was lift his head and roll his eyes at his elder sibling.

}~• A few blocks away from Payton's apartment •~{

As she sped through the streets nearing her desired location, home.

The black Tahoe in the lane to her right suddenly swerved into her throwing her to the left.

[spookyblackwidow]

Nat x Reader request

Author’s note: this is my first ever attempt at writing a reader insert, but I did my best to keep the character as neutral as possible! Enjoy some fluff at a party with the team <3

Luminous

1622 words

“Ready to go?” You smile at Nat, her blue minidress sparkling in the bathroom lights. She sighs, sets down her lipstick, and flashes you a coy grin.

“What if we stayed here instead?”

“Hmm,” you arch an eyebrow as you take in her final look—the long legs, plunging neckline, and loose curls, “tempting, but you look far too good not to be seen.”

“But it’s just a stupid party,” she pouts, batting her eyes in that ridiculously over the top way you claim to hate, although it usually worked.

“Not this time, Nat. Clint insisted that we at least make an appearance, and I have a feeling my life will be much easier if your best friend doesn’t hate me.”

“Fine,” she groans, “but if anyone even mentions bringing out the karaoke machine, we’re leaving.”

“What, not in the mood to watch Tony attempt some classic rock while absolutely plastered?” you laugh.

“Ugh, I saw enough at his 40th to last a lifetime.” Natasha shudders but fails to hide a slight smirk. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen her pretend she didn’t care for Tony, but this was her worst bluff yet. You wonder if she’d cracked open the vodka without you in preparation for this event; unfortunately, she holds her liquor well and rarely shows definitive signs of intoxication, so there was no way to tell how many drinks she’d had.

In order to protect his safehouse from inevitable damage, Clint had called everyone to the Avengers compound under the guise of team bonding, not that they necessarily needed it. He’d tasked you with luring Nat there, as she isn’t particularly keen on socializing, especially not with people outside her immediate circle of friends.

She grumbles all the way from the car into the compound. Most of it��s in Russian, but you don’t need to ask what’s upsetting her.

“Welcome! You’re only,” Clint glances at his watch, “32 minutes late! That might be a new record, Nat!”

“You’re lucky I’m here at all. But now that we’ve arrived, I can leave at any time and not feel a shred of guilt, so keep it up, I dare you.” Natasha winks at him and heads for the bar, where she ushers the bartender away and starts mixing her own drink.

“How much has she already had?” Clint drops his voice to a whisper as he hugs you.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” you shrug. “But hey, at least she’s here. Wouldn’t want her to miss the celebration.”

You make your way around the room, politely greeting the rest of the guests before settling in on a barstool next to Nat and Maria.

“Now, this may just be a rumor, but I heard he has an issue with toast being cut diagonally,” Maria laughs.

“Think that applies to other types of bread? I’m tired of losing my lunch to all these boys.”

“It may only discourage Nick, but it’s worth a shot, right?”

“Busy conspiring against the boss?” you ask.

“Always!” Nat winks. “Maria, if you’ll excuse us a moment.” She leads you away from the others, down a dim hallway and into a training room. The lights flicker on in rows, revealing an arsenal of weapons. You’re finally close enough to smell the vodka seeping from her pores, to see the faint glaze in her eyes, and you start to panic, knowing she’s gone too far.

“Nat, love, let’s go back to the party, maybe get some water?”

“Shh, it’s fine. I’ve had way more than this and survived, it’s kind of an annual tradition. Besides, if Clint didn’t want me to get drunk tonight, he wouldn’t have stocked the bar with my favorites.” She reaches out to intertwine your fingers, tugging you even closer. With her other hand she smooths the worry lines across your forehead. “I’m fine, I promise.”

She kisses you gently, slowly, and pulls away, leaving you desperate for more. With a teasing wink, she slips through the doors, leaving you in the middle of the nearly empty room. You regain your composure and follow, back to the bright lights and animated chatter of the party.

Thor is in the corner daring Tony to lift Mjolnir, egging him on to see if the suit will help. Curled up on a couch nearby are Pepper and Rhodey, deep in discussion, but each keeping a close eye on their best friend and the Asgardian. Bursts of laughter draw your attention to the bar, where Maria, Sam, Clint, and Bucky are loudly cracking jokes with an increasingly embarrassed Steve. Nick and Bruce appear to be discussing schematics for new tech at a table across the room, which would seem odd if it were anyone else, but in the time that you’d known them, you’d never really seen those two loosen up.

You scan the room again, certain you’d somehow missed her, but discover that Nat’s nowhere to be found.

“She’ll come back, when she’s ready.” Clint sidles up beside you and hands you a glass of champagne. “You know this is a big deal for her, even being here today. Give her space to sober up a bit and calm down.”

“She didn’t seem mad,” you shake your head, “just suspicious that I know.”

“As long as they don’t,” Clint nods toward the other guests, “she’ll be fine.”

You make the rounds again, doing your best to bond with these wonderful people you hope will be in your life forever. Pepper and Rhodey commiserate with you over dealing with a loved one being a stubborn ass at times, although you have to acknowledge that they have it worse; Natasha could be completely unwilling to compromise, but she was much less likely to behave recklessly.

As you rise from the couch, Thor calls you over and tries to goad you into lifting Mjolnir, but, much like your girlfriend, you aren’t sure that’s something you want to know. Instead, you smile at Tony, his repulsors on full blast, the magical hammer refusing to budge whatsoever.            

“The physics of it don’t make any sense!” he yells, releasing his grip and finally quieting the hands of his suit.

“That’s because you’re relying on such primitive knowledge!” Thor laughs. “See, what you consider magic is quite simply science so advanced, your realm likely won’t understand it for another thousand years or so, at the rate you’re going. You may be smart on Earth, but the genius of Asgardians—”

Fearing an incredibly technical argument above your pay grade, you slink away to join the group at the bar.

“—and he looked at her, eyes wide, like a fucking deer in the headlights, completely silent, until she gave up and asked someone else to dance!” Bucky claps a hand on Steve’s shoulder and throws his head back, practically cackling.

“Okay, Buck, I think that’s enough about pre-serum me.” Steve smiles weakly, his cheeks tinged red.

“Pre-serum?” Sam chuckles. “Man, he could’ve said that was last week and I would’ve believed him!”

“Making fun of Steve again?” Nat’s voice, low and rough, startles you, but months of her intentionally sneaking up on you has taught you not to jump. She wraps her arms around your waist, her head resting between your shoulder blades.

“Welcome back to the party, Nat.” Clint grins. “Got any stories you’d like to share?”

“Well,” without relinquishing contact, she slips around you to stand at your side, “there was this one time in New York…”

The details of her stories would seem exaggerated if you didn’t know the realities of their abilities and jobs. You spend the next hour or so laughing along with the others, blissfully unaware your time together is quickly drawing to a close.

“Hey, anyone want to break out the kar—” Tony yells, but Natasha is dragging you outside before he can finish his ill-fated question. Clint comes running after you, his tie flipping up over his shoulder as he jogs.

“Wait!”

To your surprise, Natasha actually stops and lets go of your arm, even starts walking back toward the building as if this all was anticipated. They embrace and whisper a few words to each other in a language you can’t hear well enough to identify. Clint smiles at you before heading back inside at a leisurely pace.

Nat’s quiet as you climb into the car, the toll of so much social interaction weighing on both of you, although you know the night’s not over yet. What comes next scares you more than it should, but you will your heart to slow, beg your voice to stay steady.

“Nat? Would you grab something out of the glovebox for me?”

“What could you possibly need—”

“Please?”

She sighs heavily and opens the compartment to discover a flat black box tied with a red satin ribbon. She shoots you a quizzical look as she loosens the bow. Inside sits a dainty silver chain with a single round charm, five small diamonds set at the points of an engraved design.

“It’s the constellation Delphinus,” you start to explain.

“Named after the dolphin Poseidon sent out to find Amphitrite,” she finishes the thought and traces the engraving with the tip of her finger. When she looks up at you, she’s smiling softly, her eyes brimming with tears. “How did you…?”

“Clint told me because he knew you wouldn’t.”

“Of course,” she laughs, wiping at her eyes. “How many other secrets has he shared?”

“Just the one, I promise.” You reach over and give her hand a reassuring squeeze. She gently kisses you, the bracelet slipping from her free hand as she moves to hold the back of your neck.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

“Happy birthday, Nat.”

...

Tag list: @romanoff--natasha @clintashaotp @baker151910 @unholyromanoff @unsociable-hobbit @thexploress

[paigenotblank]

The Age of the Wolf (6/9)

Rating: Mature overall, this chapter is teen

Pairing: Eighth Doctor x Rose Tyler

Written for @doctorroseprompts and Eight x Rose August. Prompt: Dimension hopping!Rose meets Eight / What if Rose was with Eight or met Eight during the Time War?

Read it on Tumblr: Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9

AO3  TSP

“I’m sorry, sir, but there’s been absolutely no sign of him.”

The Lord President turned angry eyes on the Doctor and his bondmate. “How can the Master just have disappeared without a trace?”

“The Cruciform was in chaos when the Dalek Emperor took control, maybe-”

“We were winning, how did we suddenly lose?”

“I can’t say, but the Master has always been very good at using distraction to-”

“Enough!” Rassilon narrowed his eyes at the Doctor. “The two of you have worked well enough together in recent years.”

“What are you implying?”

“I want every stone unturned until he’s found. The loss of the Cruciform is on him. I want answers. Check the Matrix. Check the Drylands. Get that little human hunter you’re friends with on it.”

“Leela has more important things to do than-”

“Recall every TARDIS that’s left Gallifrey if you have to. And while you are busy with that, have the…” Rassilon looked with disdain at Rose. “...Abomination you call wife check the fortifications over Arcadia.”

Rose bristled at the insult, but when the Doctor took a step forward, she grabbed his arm and shook her head and hissed under her breath, “Let it go, Doctor. Let’s...just go.”

“She’s a goddess. You’re not fit to breathe the same air as her.”

The Lord President laughed. “The closest the Time Lords have to a god is me. I brought Gallifrey out of the Dark Times. I gave us time travel. I molded us into the greatest society in all the multiverse. Your little human pet is only allowed here as long as she holds some usefulness. It’s lucky for you she’s so very bad at dying.” Rassilon sneered and made a gesture dismissing them.

Rose gritted her teeth and dragged the Doctor from the President’s private chamber.

He turned to her when they were alone in the corridor. “Rose, I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault the Time Lords elected giant prick as President. He doesn’t bother me.”

The Doctor raised his eyebrow.

Rose smiled. “...Much. I’m here for you, not him. Now come on, we’ve got a job to do.”

“The Master is slippery and a master of disguise. If he doesn’t want to be found-”

“Not talkin’ about lookin’ for that nutter. We should check the sky trenches and ramparts. That’s what’s keeping the people safe and is actually important.”

The Doctor pulled his wife against him and kissed her. “I love you.”

Rose sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. “I’ll never tire of hearing it.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’ll never stop telling you.”

Rose pulled away with a sad smile and pressed a quick peck to the Doctor’s lips. “Love you too. Now let’s get going.”

--

“Rose!”

The Doctor ran to where his bondmate had fallen in the desert. She’d been inspecting the fortifications high over Arcadia, as commanded, when the Dalek Emperor's Flagship attacked. After being hit by an energy ricochet, she’d plummeted thousands of feet back to the ground.

When he reached her, she was unconscious and her clothing still smoldered. He fell to his knees in the sand beside her and used his jacket to extinguish any embers left burning. His hearts pounded with fear every time she was sent to do something dangerous, even knowing she couldn’t die. It didn’t matter; when something went wrong, it was torturous. They had been fighting side by side for 117 years and she’d had 37 almost deaths. Each time he worried that this time it would be different, that this time she wouldn’t come back to him.

“Wake up, sweetheart. Please.”

Her body took on a golden glow and her burns and injuries quickly healed themselves. Her eyes opened and her oxygen starved lungs gasped for air.

“Doctor!”

He bent over her prone body and hugged her close. “My darling Rose, I love you, but you scare me every time you do that.”

“Better me than you.”

“Don’t say that, love. If I could save you one moment of pain, I would.”

“How are you going to give me forever if you’re the one dyin’ all the time? Let me do this for us.” Rose pressed her lips to his in a soft, easy kiss. She collapsed back into his arms with the need to breathe. “We have to go...the Sky Trenches aren’t going to hold much longer.”

He looked down at her and shook his head. “I’ve sent word to the General at High Command, but before we go back we need to find you some new clothes.” She glanced down. Hers were burned nearly from her body.

The Doctor carried her through the Drylands toward a small settlement in the hopes that someone remained or at the very least had left some supplies behind after fleeing. He slowed as he approached a wooden homestead that, like the rest of Gallifrey, had seen better days. He awkwardly shifted her in his arms so that he’d be able to knock.

“Put me down, I can stand.”

They stood side by side, as the door was answered by an old woman. Her hand went to her mouth. “M-my Lord Doctor and Lady Moment.”

The old woman stooped to bow, when Rose gently stopped her. “None of that now. It’s just the Doctor and Rose.”

“Might we come in?”

“Oh! Of course, please.” The woman stepped back and waved them entry.

The woman walked over to her fireplace and prepared two bowls of porridge. She brought them to the table for her guests. “I’m sorry I can’t offer more.”

The Doctor and Rose sat on a worn bench.

“You are most kind, madam.”

Rose raised the spoon to her lips. “It’s delicious. Best we’ve had in months.”

“I hate to ask for anything more, but if you have anything to spare...Rose could use something to wear.”

The woman jumped up from her seat and went over to a large trunk. “My daughter left these behind when she and her husband enlisted in the war.” She removed a selection of women’s clothing.

Rose walked over and smiled gratefully at the older woman. “Thank you.”

Rose changed from the tattered remains of her uniform, into a long skirt, leggings, jumper, and a sleeveless jacket. She removed her mother-in-law’s charm from where she kept it around her wrist, and used it to tie off a small plait. Biting her thumb, she returned to the Doctor. His eyes sparkled in admiration and he gave her a chaste kiss. “You look lovely.”

Rose rested her head on the Doctor’s shoulder and cuddled into his side. “Doctor, I think it’s time we went back to the Capitol for the-”

“No. That’s...that’s our last option. We...it’s...not yet.”

Rose reached for the Doctor’s hand and squeezed. “It’s getting close, Doctor, an’ I’m not saying it’s time to use it, but I think it’s safer for everyone involved if we have it with us. They’re...well I think Rassilon is getting suspicious, even more than usual, which is never good. And with the Dalek’s recent attack, he’ll be desperate. Not a great combination. Who knows how much longer we’ll even have access to the Vaults?”

The Doctor hugged her closer, and rested his cheek on the top of her head.

--

The Gallifrey High Command was in the War Room plotting changes to their current strategy. The General studied a hologram of the Dalek ships hovering above a map of the planet. His lieutenant, Androgar, entered the room with a report. “The High Council is in an emergency session. They have plans of their own.”

“To hell with the High Council. Their plans have already failed. Gallifrey's still in the line of fire. The Time Lock will buy us only a little more time.”

“As you can see, sir, all Dalek fleets surrounding the planet are now converging on the Capitol. Thankfully the Sky Trenches are still holding.”

“For how much longer? We’ve had word from the Renegade and the Abomination-”

“Sir!”

“What? She’s no more a goddess than I am, no matter what the common people believe. She doesn’t deserve the title Lady.”

“She’s been instrumental in our defense, surely she deserves a measure of respect.”

The General shook his head and muttered to himself, “The Doctor’s bloody humans. First I had to deal with Leela for years, and then this one.” He turned back to Androgar. “Regardless, they sent word that the Trenches are weakened after that last flurry of attacks from the Dalek Flagship.”

“But almost nothing in the universe can get through a Sky Trench...nothing in history’s ever gotten through. And there are 400 that protect the sky above Arcadia!” There was a large blast from outside and the building shook. The General’s underlings looked around nervously. “This is their biggest attack yet. They're throwing everything at us. Does the Lady Moment really think-”

A Time Lady burst into the meeting. “Sir, there’s been a security breach to the Time Vaults.”

A map of the area being discussed was loaded onto the security screen. A red dot could be seen moving along the corridors.

“The Omega Arsenal, where all the forbidden weapons are locked away.”

Androgar looked confused. “They're not forbidden any longer. We've used them all against the Daleks.”

The General clenched his jaw. “No. No we haven’t.”

--

Arcadia was in flames. The dead and injured lined the streets. Battle droids and Dalek fighters flew through the air firing lasers and energy blasts. Buildings were crumbling and civilians were fleeing, no longer safe in the “safest place on Gallifrey.” Time Lords and Gallifreyan Soldiers were fighting side by side, doing what little they could to protect their people from the overwhelming waves of enemy combatants that had descended upon them seemingly in no time at all. Children were crying in the street, separated from fleeing parents, as chaos reigned.

Daleks swept through the streets shouting, “Exterminate! Exterminate! Exterminate!”

Rose and the Doctor walked slowly through the rubble, sadness weighing heavily upon them. Rose spied a small girl about to walk into the path of a formation of Daleks. She ran behind a toppled wall and grabbed the girl, covering her mouth so that she wouldn’t give away their location. “It’s okay, sweetheart. But I need you to be quiet.” The girl’s frantic mother fell to her knees before Rose in gratitude. “My Lady Moment, thank you! Thank you!”

“It’s okay. Now hurry. Get as far away from here as you can.” The little girl gave Rose a kiss on her cheek and hugged her before taking up her mother’s hand.

The family hastened down an alley, as a missile exploded into the side of a nearby building. They disappeared under the weight of the falling stones. When Rose turned around aghast, the Doctor was there waiting. He opened his arms and Rose held onto him tightly, crying silently against his neck.

“Oh, Doctor! I can’t...I can’t do this anymore.”

The Doctor looked down into Rose’s tear stained face, and nodded. “It’s time.”

They walked hand in hand back toward the Citadel. They passed a soldier screaming into his wrist-com. “Message for the High Council. Priority Omega. Arcadia has fallen. I repeat, Arcadia has fallen!” When the man had completed his task, he closed his eyes and leaned back against a wall. He locked eyes with them and his fear and dejection were palpable.

Rose and the Doctor nodded their respects, and while the weight of what they were about to do slowed their steps, they trudged onward, the calm in the storm raging around them.

--

The General was followed by several of his aides into the Time Vault. He walked directly to an empty podium and slammed his fist into his palm.

“That mad fool! The Eye of Discord is gone.”

“I don't understand. What’s the Eye of Discord? I've never heard of it.”

The General turned to Androgar. “The Galaxy Eater. The final work of the ancients of Gallifrey. The scientist, Roppen, made a weapon so powerful it is to only be used when all other hope is lost. It’s said he fitted the core with sentience and a conscience, so that the user must not only face their choice but argue on behalf of it. Because not only does it destroy all traces of an enemy, it destroys all traces that the enemy had ever existed including everyone who had ever even heard of them. At full power it’s capable of destroying every living thing in the universe.”

“Rassilon’s Rod! No wonder it’s never been used.”

“How do you use a weapon of ultimate mass destruction when it can stand in judgment on you? There is only one man who would even dare.”

--

There was a soft knock on the door to the Doctor and Rose’s private chambers within the Capitol. Rose was packing up the meager supplies that they kept there, and so the Doctor walked over to answer it.

At the sight of his best and oldest friends, he moved out of the way and bid them entrance. “Romana. Leela. Andred.” He greeted them each with clasped hands.

“Hello, Doctor. Rose.”

“Hello.” Rose walked up to the group and frowned. “I thought Brax was supposed to join us?”

Romana ran a hand through her hair. “I’m afraid he’s been taken in for questioning regarding the Vault. Your mother’s gone to plead his case.”

Rose turned to the Doctor. “We’ve got to help them.”

Andred shook his head. “No, you’ve got to do this.” He took the sack his wife was holding and handed it to the Doctor. “We’ll do what we can for your brother, but in the end it won’t matter. The end is coming. All that is left to be determined is how much of the universe will be going with it.”

Leela clasped her hand in Andred’s. “I shall make sure Brax spends the last of his time where he belongs.” She darted a glance at Romana. “With his friends.”

The Doctor studied those surrounding him. Leela, his beloved former companion; Andred, the most loyal of friends; and Romana, a Time Lady he watched grow from an inexperienced though brilliant young woman to an accomplished and respected leader. “Leave. Leave Gallifrey. All of you. While there’s still time. Please. Let some good facet of Time Lord society survive.”

Romana took his hands between her own and smiled. Her eyes drifted to Rose before returning to her friend. “Oh, I think it will with or without us. Besides, we’re needed here. We each have our roles to play. We came to bid you goodbye and good luck.”

“No.” Rose teared up at the anguish in the Doctor’s voice.

Leela stepped forward to give the Doctor a hug and whispered in his ear. “You must leave now, while you still have the chance. Rassilon’s snares grow ever tighter.”

Andred clapped the Doctor on the back. “Doctor, it has been an honor knowing and serving with you.”

“And you, my friend.”

The Doctor turned to face Romana. She stood tall and proud. “Romana.”

She arched one delicate brow. “Yes, my Lord Doctor?”

He grinned. “Take care of that rapscallion brother of mine, would you? With whatever time you have left.”

Her eyes went wide and she blushed hotly. “I...what? I mean...I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

“No, of course not.” He kissed her on the cheek and grabbed Rose’s hand. “Well, my dear, sounds like we’ve got an important mission.”

She waved at the friends she had made during her life on Gallifrey. “Goodbye, all of you. I’m so glad I had the opportunity to know you.”

Leela smiled. “You are a true warrior, my Lady. And it was an honor to fight by your side.”

“That’s high praise indeed coming from you, Leela.”

Romana snorted. “I just can’t believe I lived to see the day that the Doctor voluntarily settled down.”

“Oi!”

“Who are you fooling, love? When we first met all you did was grouse about domestics.”

“Did I? Must have been because I didn’t think I could handle them without you by my side. Better with two, eh?”

Rose blushed. “Yeah. Better with two.” She laced their fingers together, and nodded her final goodbyes to their friends.

They closed the door behind them and then immediately opened it at another knock.

Rose gasped to see the Doctor’s son and daughter standing there.

“Hello, my Lady Moment, may we come in?”

“Sure. Of course.” She stepped back and bid them entry. “And please, I’ve asked you to call me ‘Rose.’”

They bowed to her and nodded to their father. “Doctor.”

“What are you doing here? Not that I mind, but you’ve both made it clear that you didn’t wish to have an association with me...us.” He gestured between himself and Rose.

The Doctor’s daughter looked nervously at her brother. “We may have been hasty in our estimation of you.”

“This War has gone on far too long and done irreparable damage to the universe. The High Council and our Lord President Rassilon are no longer acting in the best interests of Gallifrey. We see that now.”

Rose snorted. “The Citadel is literally crumbling around us, is that all it took?” The Doctor shot her a look.

His daughter blushed. “I’m sorry that we allowed our biases to prevent a deeper relationship to develop between us. It will be something that I regret for-”

“No. No regrets. You’ve come now and that is something I will treasure always.” The Doctor embraced his daughter who stood stiffly in his arms. He pulled back and kissed her crown. “Thank you.”

She nodded and gave him a small smile.

His son cleared his throat. “We came to warn you that the third prophecy has been found, and, er, well...we’ve also come to wish you luck.”

“Luck? What’s the prophecy?”

“‘The Last Son of Gallifrey will be the one to bring about the moment,” his eyes flicked to Rose, “that ends the Time War.’”

Rose paled as her hand went to her mouth. “The Last of the…”

The Doctor darted a glance at her. “The Moment. It says that exactly? And Rassilon is aware of this?”

His daughter nodded. “He was just informed.”

“We’ve got to go now, Rose. Right now.”

She was already moving toward the TARDIS in the corner of the room.

“Thank you. I’m sorry I wasn’t a better father to you, but-”

His daughter raised her hand. “No. No regrets is what you said. Please. Go and save what’s left of the universe.”

“Be what you’ve always been - the Doctor.”

“Please, both of you, run. Take your families and get as far from here as you can.”

The siblings shared a look. “Rassilon will send people to look for you here first, we can buy you some time.”

“Please-”

“We’re not like you, Gallifrey is our home. Save something of it in our memory and don’t diminish our sacrifice.”

“Never.”

“Now go.”

The Doctor paused and took one last look at his children, perhaps they were more like him than he’d ever given them credit for, before turning and following Rose into the TARDIS.

--

Lord President Rassilon, flanked by two members of the Chancellery Guard, strode briskly through the halls of the Citadel to his private Council chamber. He sat down at the head of the table with the other members of his Inner Council.

“Is there any word of the Doctor?”

The Lord Chancellor paused before stating, “Disappeared, my Lord President.”

The Lady Partisan informed him, “But we know his intention. He took possession of the Eye of Discord, it’s likely he'll use it to destroy Daleks and Time Lords alike.”

The Lord Chancellor inclined his head and picked up a scroll. “The Visionary confirms it.”

The Visionary, an old, weathered woman covered in tattoos, sat opposite the Lord President and furiously scratched quill to paper. “Ending, burning, falling. All of it falling. The black and pitch and screaming fire, so burning.”

“All of her prophecies say the same. That this is the last day of the Time War. That Gallifrey falls. That we die, today.”

“Ending. Ending. Ending. Ending!” The old woman screeched with fervor.

The Lady Partisan took a deep breath. “Perhaps it's time. This is only the furthest edge of the Time War. But at its heart, millions die every second, lost in bloodlust and insanity. With time itself resurrecting them, to find new ways of dying over and over again. A travesty of life. Isn't it better to end it, at last?”

The Lord President sneered, “Thank you for your opinion.” He stood and aimed his gauntlet covered fist at her. The whole thing pulsed with blue light and an energy beam shot forth. She screamed before being reduced to ash and atoms. He yelled at the rest of the Inner Council, “I will not die! Do you hear me? A billion years of Time Lord history riding on our backs. I will not let this perish. I will not!”

The Lord Chancellor stood nervously. “There is, er, there is one part of the prophecy, my Lord.” He unfurled a scroll and brought it to Rassilon’s side. “Forgive me, I'm sorry. It's rather difficult to decipher, but it talks of survivors, two, beyond the Final Day. And also a mention of two children of Gallifrey.”

“Does it name them?”

“Not as such. But it does foresee them locked in a final confrontation, ‘The Enmity of Ages,’ which would suggest…”

Rassilon’s eyes lit with recognition. “The Doctor and the Master.”

The Chancellor pointed to a section of the parchment. “One word keeps being repeated, my Lord. One constant word. Earth.”

The Visionary cackled, “Earth. Earth. Earth. Earth. Earth. Earth.”

The Chancellor pulled up a holographic projection of the Earth. “Planet Earth. Indigenous higher species, the human race.”

“Earth. Earth. Earth.”

Rassilon examined the primitive planet. “I don't know what the Doctor sees in it, but maybe that’s where the answer lies. Just think, our salvation. On Earth. There is a certain justice in that. The Doctor plots to take Gallifrey, but the Master will give us the Earth.”

The Visionary tapped her finger against the table in a rhythm of four.

Rassilon looked sharply at her. “A rhythm of four. The heartbeat of a Time Lord.”

“History says the Master heard such a rhythm when he looked into the Untempered Schism during his Awakening. A torment that stayed with him for the entirety of his life.”

“A drumbeat. A warrior's march.”

“A symptom of insanity, my Lord.”

“A solution to this madness. Send the signal.”

The Chancellor opened a small rupture in time. “Four beats transmitted back through time, and implanted in the Master's mind as a child.”

“Perfect, then we have a link to where the Master is right now. His disappearance was ordained.”

“But we're still trapped inside the Time Lock, sir. The link is nothing more than a thought, an idea.”

“Then we need something to make the contact physical. Something simple.”

The Visionary chanted, “So small and shining. Shining bright and cold. The tiny, tiny star, falling, falling, burning, burning, burning.”

Rassilon looked down to his staff and removed a diamond from the tip. He rolled it between his fingers and smiled. “Small enough to follow the link. And if this were on Earth, at the same time as the Master…” He took the diamond and threw it at the projection of the Earth.

--

The Doctor and Rose walked for miles through the heat of the double suns. They crossed rust colored sand dunes and barren lake beds, heading for the Doctor’s childhood home. The only sound was the rise and fall of their footsteps. The Doctor had the sack containing the Eye of Discord slung over his shoulder. Every once in awhile Rose would offer to take his burden, but each time he’d solemnly shake his head. They were both lost in thought, when suddenly Rose asked, “Why did we park so far away? You didn’t want her to see?”

“Want who to see?”

“The TARDIS. We’ve been walking for ages.”

“It’s given me time to think, plus I didn’t want to make it easy for the Time Lords to find us.”

Rose captured his hand in hers. “But they know my energy signature well enough. Shouldn’t be too hard to track us down...unless, you’re not planning on doing something stupid are you?”

He laughed bitterly. “Worse than destroying my own people?”

“You know what I mean...I’m not leaving you. Not when we’ve made it this far together.”

The Doctor sighed. “No. Right or wrong, I won’t send you away, don’t think I’d be strong enough to do this on my own.” His fingers played with the band of Rose’s wedding ring. “The Time Lords shouldn’t be able to find you. Your wedding band is a bio-damper. It hides you from them.”

“The wedding band you gave me on our 80th anniversary? The wedding band I’ve been wearing for nearly four decades?”

“Erm, yes...”

She lightly slapped his arm. “An’ you never said? Over a century in, and you still manage to surprise me.”

He gave her a small flirty grin and an overly dramatic kiss on the cheek.

They walked in silence for several more minutes, before Rose asked, “Thinkin’ ‘bout what?”

“Hmm?”

“You said you needed time to think. ‘Bout what?”

He let out a deep breath. “Ways to avoid what we’ve got to do.”

“Doctor…”

“I don’t think I can do this, Rose. I...I know Rassilon and the High Council are planning something unspeakable. There’re rumors he’s considering the Ultimate Sanction, but I can’t...when I think of all the innocent people...all the children...how can I?”

“If there was any other way...”

“I can’t believe that this is the only way. There has to be another. I just need more time to think. To find it.” He stopped suddenly, dropping the sack, and turned to Rose. “Rose, you have to tell me what you know.”

“What’re you talkin’ about?”

“From the future, what did I tell you about how the War ends?”

“Doctor! You know I can’t.”

The Doctor gripped Rose’s upper arms. “Rose, please.” Rose bit her lip hard to keep from breaking down and cupped the Doctor’s jaw. “I...just this once. I can make it-”

“Doctor, I can’t.” She held his gaze and begged him to understand.

He closed his eyes tight.

She whispered, “I’m sorry. I can’t tell you what you want to hear.”

“I’m so afraid I won’t do the right thing.” He laughed harshly. “I’m a coward, Rose. You married a coward.”

“You...you’re the bravest man I know. I love you. I’ve always loved you just like I will always love you.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Stop it. Just remember, you’re not alone. Yeah? I’m right here. You said it yourself, ‘‘S better with two.’”

The Doctor pulled her close and feathered kisses across her brow, the bridge of her nose, before finally tilting her head and kissing her deeply. Rose ran her hands through his hair. He’d let it grow out a little longer than when they first met. He knew how much she adored playing with the curls. Their foreheads rested against each other as they caught their breath. From the corner of his eye, the Doctor noticed a star shoot across the sky. “What? No!”

“What was that?”

The Doctor laced their fingers together and bent down to retrieve the bag with the Eye of Discord. “They broke through the Time Lock.”

“Who?”

“The Time Lords. If they can get out, then so could anyone else. Come on. We’ve got to go. We’re out of time.”

--

Rassilon stood proudly and addressed the full Time Lord Senate. “Now the High Council of Time Lords must vote. Whether we die here, today, either by the Daleks or one of our own. Or do we return to the waking world and complete the Ultimate Sanction? For this is the hour when either Gallifrey falls, or Gallifrey rises!”

The chanting of the Time Lords is almost deafening. “GALLIFREY RISES!”

Rassilon lifts his staff and leads the call. “Gallifrey rises! For Gallifrey.”

“FOR GALLIFREY!”

“For victory!”

“FOR VICTORY!”

“For the end of time itself!”

“FOR THE END OF TIME ITSELF!”

[glowyves]

Can you do small introductions on each loona member? Or i mean not all of them if u dont want ik theres like 27 of them but just little descriptions of what u think of em would be cute

a chance? to talk abt the loves of my life? 

heejin: you knwo that friend who like if u fuck around during the school yr and need someone to help u out w notes and getting yourself together bc u know shes always on top of her game? thats heejin. girly is an all rounder tbh she can sing dance and as much as ppl like 2 clown her for her rapping shes really not all that bad. LIKE shes just so versatile. she showed that thru mixnine which lol i didnt watch besides cuts but if u watch her performing on there and then see her performing with loona 1/3 it’s like complete opposites but she manages to shine no matter what like it’s effortless for her. shes such a sweet girl too i really do feel like theres a reason she was picked to go first bc she has such a likeable personality. shes funny, hardworking, humble (but not to the point to where she downplays her worth), and just seems like a real ride or die type of friend

hyunjin: MY BABY i hav such a soft spot for hyunjin and it’s hard not to??? she comes across as a little quiet at first and she acts like she doesnt care but she does u know she does shes not fooling anyone idc how many times shes told yeojin 2 shut up on camera i know she’d be one of the first if not THE first girl 2 be by her side (and any members side) if some shit went down. shes such a determined little thing too and when she has her eyes on something she goes for it no thinking abt it no questions asked she just does what she wants and thats something so impressive for a girl her age to be able to do. i feel like shes the type of person to just sit in the back and watch more than participate bc she doesnt mind if the other girls take the spotlight like shes such a chill, laid-back soul. i aspire to be like her. and shes so fucking funny really it’s almost criminal how hard she makes me laugh. ALSO she has the best reactions it’s a disgrace more than anything that i dont hav a folder of just her making stupid faces

haseul: the absolute love of my life? THE jo haseul?? theres a reason shes the member i latched onto the most at the beginning and ultimately kinda the member that tied me down to loona for good. like i was onboard w them from the get but it’s her that sealed the deal. i dont joke when i say she really is their guardian angel and no matter what u think of her in the comparison to the other girls u cant deny the fact that shes born leader material. she makes the other girls feel good and at-ease yknow. like she was always around vivi in the 1/3 loona tvs and u could tell it was like 2nd nature to her being by her side as vivi navigated her way through a country and language she wasnt all too familiar with. and like w/ yves for another example like yves if all facts check out was only w/ bbc for a three week period before they debuted her so obviously she wasnt familiar with any of the girls which is why she was so awkward at first. but haseul? bless her soul she did all that she could to make her feel at home. and she has such a beautiful voice i feel like not enough ppl praise her for it. also fuck yg for making her feel bad during mixnine she deserves the world and he can suck my big toe

yeojin: miss thang miss thang. what 2 say what 2 say. first things first shes a trooper. shes a baby i mean a lot of them are babies but yeojin is an actual baby baby i almost fainted when i learned how old she is. but despite her age shes so firm yknow. when shes doing things she wants to do them right to the best of her abilities and shes always striving to be better which is so admirable bc for me personally at that age i was a goddamn mess i couldnt be doing and juggling even a third of the shit she does. and shes right next to hyunjin when it comes to making me laugh shes just so loud and full of energy even 2 the point where i get tired watching her and im loud and full of energy but her being loud and being full of energy kicks my being loud and being full of energy in the ass. if any of that made sense. but theres never a dry eye in sight when shes in the room and u can tell shes such a joy 2 be around as much shit as the other girls give her lol i just feel real protective of her bc shes just so full of life and laughter and i just want her to be out here living her best life

vivi: it needs 2 be said that i have such high respect for any kpop idol who’s from another country bc theres just so much thats going against them. miss vivi is away from home away from her comfort space away from her friends and family away from a place where she can speak proficiently and fluently bc shes struggling to learn a new language and?? on top of that shes doing all the other standard idol stuff. thats some tough shit thats some scary shit but she takes it all on with a brave face and an open mind. and being able to slowly watch her build up more confidence in the language and basically everything else has been such an honor. like when im out here on my weak shit feeling sorry for myself i gotta think 2 myself what would miss vivi do? how would miss vivi tackle this? i lov this girl honestly i would die for her she does so much and i feel like not all of it is fully appreciated but she’ll have her moment i know she will and it’ll only be a matter of time before ppl see how amazing she is 

kim lip: giiiiiiiiirl. lip is such a strong person. like in all aspects. shes crazy talented it’s a little scary to think abt how much she’ll grow once they properly debut as a group and she gets more experience bc?? she just has so much going for her. her charisma is off the charts she can easily pull a crowd if her solo being a real big jumping point in spreading the loona name says anything at all. and shes such a good pick for the oec leader she definitely has those vibes like u just cant help but listen to her regardless of whatever bullshit she says and she says a lot of bullshit but do i liv by that bullshit and eat it up like shes spouting out the new testament u can bet ur ass i do. lip is definitely one of those girls that u cant help but be drawn to like u just want 2 be her bff bc once u remove her from the stage she has such girl next door vibes i feel like she’d be the type of girl u see in the club and u make small talk by the bar bc u made eye contact by accident and all of the sudden before u know it youve spent ur whole night w her and u hav her phone number and plans to meet up next week bc shes so friendly 

jinsoul: i make fun of her a lot. but w good reason: shes easy 2 make fun of. shes so quirky but not in the ironic way like shes really quirky and a bit of a walking disaster but it’s charming and she makes it work. even if shes not ur fav? shes still? kinda ur fav? even if u dont know it? if i made a list of some of my fav loona moments i assure u she’d be included in about 80% of it like shes such a staple to the group i really cant imagine her not being w them i mean i cant imagine the group w/o any of them but jinsoul especially. sometimes i watch loona vids knowing good and damn well shes not gonna be in them but i still end up thinking where is jinsoul?? bc not 2 speak for everybody (i will tho) but no one can get enough jinsoul. also her voice? i love it it’s one of my favs in not only loona but kpop in general. both speaking-wise and singing-wise. it’s just so pretty i really did astral project the first time i heard sitr & love letter. true out of body experiences 10/10 would recommend the yelp reviews are in shes 100% worth It. what is the It shes worth? idk but whatever It is .. shes worth It.

choerry: i just want her 2 be my little sister wow. miss yerim really has my heart. truly the embodiment of :) . shes so smily and has such a strong energy u cant help but like her. in every loona tv shes in shes making someone laugh or smile and it’s no coinkidink it’s bc shes really just that much of a ray of sunshine and u cant help but fall for her. give her some time i pledge w my life that once they debut she is going 2 shine on variety shows theres no way she wont. she has such good sense and shes so flexible. and if lcm is anything 2 go by shes able to switch it up and kill different concepts and sounds at the drop of a hat. def one to keep ur eye on bc u just know shes gonna go far in the future theres no way she wont she has all the tools in her arsenal to make it big no problem. does she resemble the annoying orange? yes and i’ll hate kim lip forever for putting that image in my head but that wont stop her shes truly a force to be reckoned with.

yves: my baby! u didnt hear this from me but i lov her a lot. she was kinda just thrown 2 the wolves w/ her three weeks of training i can only imagine how nerve wracking it must’ve been for her. here is an army of girls bbc has as potential loona members whove been training for years/knew the other girls who were already chosen as loona members/have even gone along for the ride with the chosen loona members to film their mvs and yet shes the one who was picked to be added after three weeks of her being w the company. three weeks !!! thats a lot of pressure but despite that she gave us everything she got. she was real nervous in the beginning anyone could tell when u watched her loona tv arc but she got over it and by the time chuu’s arc rolled around she was joking around w/ the others like it was nothing. shes so funny too but in an awkward way. like she doesnt mean to be but she says and does shit that makes u ?? and u cant help but laugh. her gig with marishe? i have never seen anything funnier like that bitch really took 100+ photos all w the same face and w the same three poses if that’s not talent idk what is. and i dont think it’s been confirmed in writing yet but shes gonna be such a good leader for the eden unit i feel it in my bones 

chuu: when i tell u my heart has skipped a beat over this girl. im not saying it 2 be dramatic im deadass. my heart has skipped a beat multiple times watching her whether it be a fancam or a loona tv or even a selfie. i’ve watched that little instagram update of her in her pig onesie more times than i want 2 disclose. her voice???? oh my god im in love with it. shes such a strong singer like STRONG and u can hear that in heart attack and girl’s talk and see saw but if u listen to her covers shes done before being introduced as a member it’s like !!!!! wow. and she makes a lot of noises. like just incoherent sounds and its so cute i could cry. like i dont have the attention span 2 sit and watch a vlive if it’s not subbed … but i’d do it for her just bc i love hearing her talk i love her voice on any and all levels u could love someones voice. and all her little mannerisms are adorable and this could really turn into me typing a whole mla formatted essay on how i find her 2 be one of the cutest girls in the world but i’ll spare u. and ofc shes not just cute like i said before this girl is talented and i cant wait for loona to grow as a group so she can be on bigger and bigger platforms for more and more ppl to hear her sing bc thats just how it should be

gowon: i lov her i lov her i lov her!! i’d do just about anything for this girl if she asked but i feel like regardless of who u are u wouldnt be able to refuse her even if u wanted to. i latch onto every word she says everything she says is gold. shes so giggly and a lot of that giggling is bc she probably feels awkward but it’s still real cute. shes also lowkey highkey gotta mouth on her like she’ll really come for ppls throats if she feels it’s necessary and thats beautiful to me. she doesnt get enough credit but as pretty as she is more attention should be focused on her talents bc she is a talented girl. her vocal tone is high and ‘cute’ but i think it melds so well w/ the other girls’ voices and theres a lot of opportunity there if and when they decide to create new sub-units/have more duet songs. and my girl can dance im tired of ppl overlooking her bc?? her pre-debut vids are a little stiff ye but theres so much potential there shes such a gem and i cant wait for her to grow more bc i know theres so much she could be doing w/ what she has

olivia hye: when she said love myself today let u go today? i felt that

[thefanficmistress]

GUY OF GISBORNE - 30 Day Writing Challenge: Day 10

Taglist : Let me know if you would like to be tagged ^_^

@deepestfirefun​ @armitageadoration​ @shikin83​ @patanghill17​ @princecami​ @sassytyphoondetective @xxbyimm​ @nowiloveandwilllove​

Pairing : Guy & Elena

Prompts: 

“There are 215 bones in the human body. That´s one! Stop whining and get the hell out of my sight,”

“You broke my nose!”

“You´re safe with me, I won´t let them hurt you again,”

 ELENA

Elena hadn’t slept all night because of the note and flowers. She couldn’t even bring herself to through them away. She didn’t want to touch anything that he touched, it would have been like he was touching her. When the servants would wake, she would have them disregard them. Maybe burn them. When he had touched her, it took many bathes for her to feel clean, but she still felt the linger of his fingers on her skin.

He was a gorgeous man, but a horrible one. A beast hidden behind the mask of a charming, angelic face. He drew her in, only to get possessive, and rough with her. She shook the memory from her head. Resting back against the stone wall of the bath she made for herself.  She needed to relax. The water was hot, and steam danced along the wet surface. She had poured smelling oils in the water, and petals of heather, and lavender.

When she heard the door open and close. She called out to see if it was one of her servants but received no reply. She stood and walked through the warm bath water to the steps and climbed out of the sparkling pool. She picked up her white cloth gown and put it on over her wet skin. Her wet hair was soaked and hung long in tiny curls.

She walked out of the side room and gasped as she was taken back by the man she saw.

A man, clad in a dark blue and borwn, was standing in the foyer, glancing throughout the room. Of average height, wiry build, with short brown hair, he was well dressed and had a cultured air about him.

Apparently, he wasn’t concerned about strolling in uninvited. She thought she locked the lash behind her. She could have sworn she did. What if she’d still been in the bath, or had wandered downstairs to find the stranger there?

The man turned at her gasp. “I’m sorry I startled you. “he apologized gently. “Might the Master of the house be about?”

“I didn’t hear you knock,” Elena said. She didn’t think he had. Maybe her father’s friends didn’t. “Are you a friend of his? Does he owe you money from the tavern games?” He smelled of ale and rum.

“No.” he said, not specifying which question he was answering. “Is he in?” His eyes racked her entire body.

She was aware that her attire was not suitable for the occasion, after all she was still wet, and parts of her white dress stuck to her body. Her breast was full, and her dark nipples showed through the thin fabric.

“Not at the moment, but I’ll be happy to tell him you stopped by.” She peered at him, curiosity never dormant. “Are you a close friend of his?” she fished.

“No.” He smiled. “And who might you be? The House Maid?”

“The master’s Daughter--. “

She broke off as the man’s demeanor changed abruptly. Gone was the disarming smile. Gone was the appreciative gaze. Replaced by a cold, calculating expression. And—her brain seemed to resist processing this fact—there was suddenly, bewilderingly, a knife in his hand.

She shook her head sharply, unable to absorb the bizarre turn of events. With a menacing smile, he moved toward her.

"Don't touch me!” She yelled.

“He’s happy that he found you.”  

Just a few words, but they brought tears to her eyes. She didn’t want to see him anymore. She thought she made that very clear the last time she saw him. It wasn’t an easy goodbye, or a happy one. He was furious with her for wanting to go. For turning him down. So furious it turned abusive, and she ran. They both ran for months at a time. Hiding in many towns and villages just to get away from him. She thought they were safe here and had more time. 

Still trying to get some dim grasp on the situation, she said stupidly. “You’re one of his friends.”

She inched slowly backward, afraid to make a sudden move.

“Not exactly,” was the man’s bizarre reply as he paced her.

“What do you want? If it’s coin, I have lots. And I’ll happily give it to you.” she babbled. She was almost to the shelf that had her fathers dagger.

“The coin is nice, and more would be better, but It’s not coin I’m after.”

A dozen horrid scenarios, each worse than the last, flashed through her mind. All of them ended with Guy Finding her dead in this house. He’d duped her into freely admitting that she was alone. How gullible she’d been!

When he lunged for her, she scrambled backward, adrenaline flooding her. Frantically, with hands made clumsy by fear, she snatched things off the shelf and flung them at him. The books bounced off his shoulder; A newly acquired butcher block hit him squarely in the chest. Flailing behind her, she grabbed one goblet after another from the next shelf and flung them at his head. He ducked and dodged, and glass after glass exploded against the wall behind him, raining down on the floor.

He hissed with fury and kept coming.

Gasping for breath, dangerously close to hyperventilating, Elena groped for more arsenal. A bowl, spice jars, bottles of wine, rum, ale, books. She needed a freaking weapon! In the midst of this damned house, surely, she could get her hands on one blasted knife! But her bare feet kept slipping in wine as she tried to avoid both her assailant and the broken glass.

Afraid to take her eyes off him, she backed into the small kitchen area where the cook prepared his meals, and she fumbled for a drawer behind her and felt frantically about for anything.

Glass crunching beneath his boots, he advanced, backing her against the counter more.

Wine bottle. Full. Thank you, God. She kept it behind her back and went motionless.

He did exactly what she’d hoped. Gave her the bum’s rush, and she smashed the bottle down on his head with all her might, drenching them both with glass-spiked wine.

He grabbed her around the waist as he went down, taking her with him. She was no match for the wiry strength of the man as he wrestled her onto her back beneath him. His hands wrapped around her throat and he started to squeeze.

“I just need you out enough to take you without a fuss.” He admitted.

She caught a flash of silver perilously close to her face. She went limp for a moment, just long enough to make him wonder, then twisted and went for his groin with her knee. He curled into himself and released her. She managed to quickly get out from under him and crawled towards the door. Her feet were bleeding too badly for her to walk. She snatched up a dagger that rested at the door and she turned to see the man on the floor slowly coming back around after her kick to his groin.

GUY

Pushing the door open, he gaped, incredulity and shock paralyzing him for a precious moment.

Elena—dripping red liquid that his mind refused to accept might be blood—was crawling out of kitchen on her rare, her back to him, sliding backwards, her hand clutching a blade.

A man stepped out of the kitchen, his murderous gaze fixed on Elena, a knife in his hand.

Neither of them registered his presence.

“Elena back away,” Guy hissed, pulling his sword from his side.

The man startled and saw him then, his face registering shock and … something more, a thing Guy couldn’t quite define. The intruder’s gaze darted to the door behind Guy, then to the open doors leading to the back of the house.

That’s when Guy lunged for him. The intruder parried, and both men began a dance of blades. Guy ducked when he swung his dagger, and when he came back up, his hilt smacked the stranger in the face. Blood shot out everywhere as the mans head snapped backwards. Guy then pushed him into the wall, and took another blade, swirled it in his hand and placed it to his face. The strangers hands trapped in a maze of locks, while Guy held him still and firm. The smell of wine, and blood washed over him.

“You broke my nose!” the intruder screamed.

“There are 215 bones in the human body. That´s one!” He pressed his body against the mans harder, the knife snipping his skin, and a small teardrop of blood wet the tip of the blade. “Why are you after my woman? “Guy demanded.

“Someone paid me to get her!” he confessed.

“Who?”

“I didn’t see his face, he just paid me and said that his master wanted her.” He guy started to whimper and moan. “Look at what you’ve done to me! I can never show my face again!”

“Stop whining and get the hell out of my sight,” Guy pushed him harder into the wall, the weak wood gave out and the man fell back. “Guy kicked him repeatedly in the stomach and gave him a final blow to his face with a hilt gripped fist. The mans face slammed into the hard floor. His mouth poured with blood.

He rose to his feet, and Guy shouted, standing over him. “If I ever see you near her or this house again. I will kill you.” He added with lethal calm.

The guy scrabbled to his feet and ran out of the door and disappeared in the bright light.

He turned to see Elena laying in the glass, unresponsive, her feet bleeding, and her gown soaked in red. He dropped his sword and rushed over to her. Kneeling at her side, he picked her up and carried her to the bathing room where her bath still waited. Fully clothed he walked into the water, washing her face, and waiting for her to wake up.

“You’re safe with me. I won’t let them, or anyone hurt you again.” He whispered on to her wet face. Kissing her cheek.  He was shaking with fear, and rage. He wanted answers now.

[selinaneveahcrystal]

The Marks Of Their Souls—Part 4

Prompt: @irenehogan-blog Marcos first sees Lorna’s green hair and tells her she’s beautiful.

Soulmate AU, where they all have words from birth and no one sees colours for the first time until they meet their soulmate and have a kiss, and certain phenomenons show up to mark the soulmates as soulmates—where the Aurora Borealis is Marcos and Lorna’s soulmate phenomenon mark.

Continued from Part 1, 2, 3

It’s dark out when they finally settle down at the safe place John and Lorna called The Headquarters. A rundown, scaffold filled rickety old place filled with dust but with rooms that could possibly be nice if effort was made. Marcos didn’t mind. He’d actually been in worse places before, so when Lorna had offered him one of the more comfortable places in the Headquarters, he was pretty sure his eyes raised in utter surprise.

“You do know I’ve slept in worse place before right?” He’s changed out of his suit to a more drab grey but comfortable shirt, and his cheeks feel hot as his soulmate’s eyes trace his abdomen quite unbashedly.

Was she always so daring like this?

“Walk with me.” She offers him a gentle smile, and he decides that she is always that daring—not that he didn’t like it.

It’s only a moment before they’re outside again, surrounded entirely by chirping insects and the quiet balm of the forest night that does almost nothing to cool his hyped up nerves and senses. She’s comfortable though. Marcos could tell through the spring in her step that contrasted with his drag, and the slight tilt of her head and body as she turned to smile at him lightly, sending butterflies fluttering through his chest and belly.

“Is it always this quiet out here?” He decides to start the conversation, because her happiness was overwhelming to his awkwardness that he was exuding from his body.

“You’ll get used to it.” The smirk she sends his way warms him from the tips of his fingers to his toes, and Marcos fights the urge to smile stupidly at her. Did she not know the thrall she held over him? It was quite difficult to concentrate with the…charm she was exuding and holding over him.

He grunts.

“Well, how did you guys get this place? It’s huge.” He forces his eyes away from her beautiful form to rake through the uninteresting building, hands awkwardly twisting with each other. If she ever noticed—Lorna didn’t bother to say.

Marcos presumes that she answers his question with a whole load of facts that —he actually doesn’t listen to, because he’s too busy staring at her lips and face to be jerked out of his reverie and listen to the information coming from her mouth. She finishes her explanation, looking at him half amusedly and expectantly, eyes slightly guarded.

“Well, love what you’ve done with this place.” He goes for the lame jokes in his arsenal, and she cracks a knowing grin and shakes her head, huffing out a soft laugh, the tension from his staring released from her stiff shoulders.

“So..ever wondered what we did in a past life to deserve this? Having a gene that forces us to live this way?” Marcos is very clear with his stand—he hates the part of himself that makes hiding a necessity instead of a random thing, but surprise flits across Lorna’s face at his words. He knows instinctively that she comfortable with who she is and what she can do, because he feels it through the connection that they have, streaming through the close proximity and distance between their bodies. She’s proud of being a mutant, and loves who she is. That feeling of pride and honor overwhelms him as he touches their empathic connection slightly, and she jerks feeling for the first time the touch of the soulmate she’d been hesitant to connect with.

Marcos withdraws sheepishly, raising a hand to his head, and her eyes catch hold of the words twined around his wrist.

“Can I see?” Her pale fingers latch and find purchase around his hands, and his words burn and tingle as she strokes them gently, his vision flaring with bright colours as her fingers graze the marks on his hands.

A twitch of a wry smile Graces her face.

“Well who knew yours would be the first phone call we’ve ever had.” He laughs, taking the initiative to pull her a little closer.

She’s surprised at the distance between them,her palms flat on his chest as he locks his hands around her waist, watching the pinkish red blush work it’s way up her neck into her cheeks, before finally coming to her ears.

It’s cute that she blushes, he decides there and then, and he’s definitely gonna try to make that happen as many times as possible.

“You’re giving me a shit eating grin.” Lorna complains almost immediately, and he’s suddenly taken over by the urge to kiss her lips.

“Can I?” He whispers, and her eyes widen instinctively at the question, understanding the implication he meant behind it even though he’d uttered nothing to give it away.

He watches as she swallows, and he’s just as nervous as she is, with her hands surging to twine around his right hand—and they both stop, staring in surprise as their visions flare with colour—to see the brightly coloured lights that rise from their hands into the dark night sky.

“Uhm.” He let’s her scramble for footing emotionally as his eyes linger on their phenomenon mark—its a symbol of something that fully belongs and embodies the compatibility of both soulmates, and Marcos doesn’t know what it is until she opens her mouth to gasp in wonder.

“What is it?” He asks lowly, eyes skimming over the blindingly beautiful colours.

“I..I think it’s the Aurora Borealis. They’re both too captivated by their phenomenon mark to turn to face each other. "It’s when the Sun’s solar energy hits the Earth’s Magnetosphere.” Her voice trails of silently as they both latch simultaneously onto the meaning of their phenomenon mark. He turns slightly, feeling her breath fan against his, eyes searching as she licked her lips. “They say it’s the most beautiful thing on Earth.”

His vision is bright with colours of blue yellow brown and black of the surrounding trees, earth and dark nights, but she’s the most beautiful creature that he’s ever seen in that moment his sight permanently floods with colours—and all he manages to capture from her visage is her stunning hazel eyes, pale skin—and suddenly he’s crashing his lips to hers, swallowing her gasp of surprise as her fingers dig into his words on his wrist. It burns in a solid and sweet kind of way that only she can make so, and his fingers are reaching around her waist instinctively, palming and finding his mark on her. It’s near her waist, he can feel that much despite it being hidden from view, because her skin is breaking out in goosebumps as his heated fingers skirt around her stomach. He presses lightly on the spot near her navel and she suddenly shudders, her breath rushing out in a sudden gasp of electrifying shock.

There.

He feels it as his mark sends a shock of it’s own up his fingers as he grazes it just so slightly.

“You..” She pulls away from their all consuming kiss, eyes hooded and half open as she tries to regain her bearings.

“Told you we’re made for each other.” He mumbles, immediately missing her touch and lips as he looks down at her beautiful face. She huffs almost incredulously, roughly yanking him forward to this time—crash her lips to his almost painfully.

“You should stop talking.” She mumbles back at him between kisses, and Marcos chuckles.

“I’m glad I found you.” He pulls back, framing her face with his own hands as he watches a flurry of emotions and panic rush through her eyes and face. “I won’t die on you.” He promises, somehow knowing that her reluctance and panic stemmed not from her fear of a relationship but that she might just very well lose him suddenly in this tumultuous world. Lorna gasps soft cry, chest heaving with emotion, the fear blatant rising in her face as she clutches his shirt almost painfully and tearfully.

“I won’t.” He catches the tears that escape from the corners of her eyes as her emotion brims over in her and spills out. Marcos chuckles as she immediately buries her face in his shirt as he runs his hands over her back gently and comfortingly. She’s embarrassed at that sudden show of emotion, and was fighting desperately against that particular embarrassment as she hid her face in his shirt. He contemplates on shushing her like a small child, then entirely abandons that idea as she pinches his arm hard as soon as that thought pops in his mind and Wells in his chest, and turns her slightly glaring eyes up at him.

“I just…can’t lose anymore people in my life.” She sniffles hard.

“So that’s why you didn’t want to find me?” He’s half amused half aching in pain for the losses she’s experienced and unintentionally sharing through their bond.

Lorna turns her head away from his scrutinizing stare immediately, and Marcos chuckles.

“Alright, beautiful. I’ll stop with the teasing.” He fingers her green hair slowly, playing and tangling his fingers teasingly in the strands of her hair.

“Really, beautiful?” Lorna chuckles at his choice of nickname. “I’d have to call a raincheck on that.” Marcos hums delightedly, the scent of her skin sending thrills through his body.

“What? You are beautiful.” He admires the way the light shatters on her green luminescent strands, and breathes out a feather gasp of wonder. “Did you know your hair is green?”

“What?” His words momentarily take away the attention she’s had on his features and skin to look down in astonishment at her coloured hair. “Oh.” Her eyes are half crossed between amusement and resignation as a wry smile crossed her lips. “So that’s why people always looked at me funny and why they could always tell I was different.”

“Oh, you think? You’re stunning.” Marcos grinned. “If they didn’t know you were different and stunning before, then I’d say they have something wrong with their eyes and brain.” Lorna laughs softly as he gathers up the soft strands to let them fall through her fingers gently.

But something else caught Marcos’ eye.

“What’s this?” He enquires, lifting the green strands off the place where her neck meets her collarbone to eye the dark reddish purple mark on her neck. His eyes follow it slowly as it trails down her collarbone, and suddenly he’s struck with a strong sense of possessive jealousy as he realises that the bruises were actually—love bites.

From having sex.

His eyes snap to hers immediately, and she avoids his eyes almost guiltily.

A growl escaped Marcos’ lips. He knows that she can’t possibly be a virgin at her age, but knowing that another male had laid his hands on what was his struck him with an almost overwhelming sense of jealousy and fury. Lorna yelped as her back crashed into a tree, sending a momentary sharp pain shooting through her back. Marcos’ pressed his nose to the skin of her neck and inhaled, snarling almost ferally as he detected a stray scent that wasn’t hers that permeated her skin.

“Marcos!” Alarm flooded Lorna’s voice as he pressed his lips right over the marks on her skin, biting, suckling and printing his own mark possessively over the bruise mark that had been left behind in her nightly escapade the day before. Lorna tried to push him away.

But one should note the word tried.

The moment his lips had latched to her skin, it was just mostly just her gasping incoherently as his lips sampled the skin of her neck, sending Sparks shooting through her body and skin as her brain nearly melted and reveled in the desire and possession he held over her.

Once the skin was neatly bruised by his own lips, aching and swollen, did Marcos lift his eyes to meet hers guiltily.

“I…” She reaches for him, slightly stunned as he turns abruptly away from her touch, his eyes stunned and horrified at the impulsive action he’d just done.

“Hey. It’s okay!” She reaches for him, pulling him tightly against her as she cupped his face. “It’s the bond. I get it.” Marcos grudgingly turns, pressing his fingers regretfully to the spot where his lips were just moments ago.

“I’m such an ass.” He said grudgingly, swiping slow circles comfortingly over her skin gently.

“Well. I thought it was pretty hot that you’re so possessive.” She leaned slightly towards him, a small smile flitting across her face as she grinned at Marcos, whose eyebrows rose almost to his hairline, before a breathless laughter escapes his lips.

“You’re one unpredictable lady.” Marcos curls his hand around the side of her face gently. “Most people would complain.”

“Well..I’m not most people.” He only beams at her comebacks, grinning as he presses his fingers against her navel where his word marks her and Lorna yelps, jumping as the electrifying tingle surges through her body from her soul mark.

“Ugh. And you’re annoying.” Both of them know she doesn’t mean what she says, because it’s only moments later that they cave, lips meeting softly in a kiss that sends their Aurora Borealis curling and shattering in beautiful lights all around them.

~~~~

@eclipsepolarisxauroraborealis

@irenehogan-blog

There.

First Fanfic to tide over the horrendous two week wait completed.

Comments are life, reblogs are rejuvenating. So if you like it comment and reblog :3

[ax100]

hewwo it is your vewwy mewwy fwend asking fow a numbew fouw

I briefly contemplated answering this ask in owo but decided that I like having followers.

4. name three authors that were influential to your work and tell why

Christopher Paolini - For better or for worse, the first book series I ever got super invested in was the Inheritance Trilogy. Eragon charmed me in a way that books hadn’t been able to do until that point. The world that Paolini built was vivid and the pacing of the story was glacial because of the great care he put behind each word. For a long time, I tried to emulate his writing style and I still find it most comfortable to “take a stroll” rather than “walk with purpose” when it comes to storytelling. I love the feeling of discovering things, like slowly unwrapping a gift, and I think those are the qualities that shines through the most when I read Paolini’s writing.

David Levithan - If Christopher Paolini taught me the beauty of flowery words, then David Levithan taught me the art of crafting an enjoyable story with a limited arsenal. “High fantasy epic” writing is not a style suitable for all kinds of stories, and to be honest, it’s not a tone that is easy to maintain as a writer. The first Levithan book I read was Boy Meets Boy, but the book I keep coming back to is actually How They Met And Other Stories. Levithan’s style is casual but entertaining--a style best suited for short stories, in my opinion. Despite this, he’s still able to touch on concepts and topics that can sometimes be hard to talk about in a way that feels natural. Overall, his works are easy to read--sentence structure isn’t complicated and the vocabulary is accessible to mid-level readers. An enjoyable story doesn’t always have to put a big mental strain on the reader, which is the style I try to go for in my more casual works now.

Yuki Urushibara - oh man is this cheating?? I know the question calls for authors but I couldn’t be honest about my answer if I didn’t cite Yuki Urushibara and her manga Mushishi. When it comes to works (written or otherwise) that have influenced me as a writer, a worldbuilder, and a storyteller, Mushishi really changed my life. This manga taught me the value of an individual character’s story. While most works follow the story of one particular character, Mushishi’s protagonist Ginko is as much a main character as everyone else you meet along the way is. You do find out his own story, but it’s just one of many. More than anything else, he’s just there to serve as a pillar of continuity between all the stories--none of them more or less important than the others. Aside from that, whereas most stories have a clear-cut beginning, middle, and end, Mushishi is truly a quintessential example of the slice-of-life genre. You are dropped into the middle of something that has already been happening, and the series concludes in much the same way--you know it will continue on without you. To me, this style of storytelling was revolutionary. Urushibara puts so much care into all the characters we encounter, all the stories we’re told. No one person is more important than the rest, no one story is more interesting than the other. It’s this respect for each individual character and their personal narrative, paired with the somber tone of the work as a whole, that makes you think, “Ah, the world is such a big place.” 

Bonus: Pablo Neruda - again, is this cheating since he’s a poet? I’ve always tried to push for vivid imagery in my writing, the kind of thing that really digs deep inside you, carves a space, and hits home. It’s very difficult to do; word choice, pacing, build-up--all these things combine to become a really show-stopping piece of writing, the kind of line that hits you like BAM. Pablo Neruda’s writing is incredible; when I read his poems, it really feels like he just ripped his heart out and slammed it down onto the table, still beating and bloody. In a literary sense, I mean. His writing is magic--he seems to be able to write the exact words most writers only wish they could grasp at. More than command of the language, this kind of writing takes a lot of courage, as it’s one of the highest forms of vulnerability. Baring your heart to people you know is hard enough, but to take those sentiments you bury deep in your heart and just write them so openly and explicitly with no self-censoring and in complete honesty is nothing short of amazing. I only wish I could write as fervently as him!

(ask me stuff about writing!)

[10oclockdot]

True/False 2017 Festival Report, part 2:

in which I give capsule reviews of films that I viewed on March 4 and 5, the last two days of this year's True/False, in order of best to worst. Part 1 here.

The War Show (Andreas Dalsgaard, Obaidah Zytoon, 2016) Imagine Five Broken Cameras, but in Syria. Mix in a deeply wise coming-of-age story that tragically spirals into a tale of existential perdition with poetic voice-over to rival The House is Black and ending with the most clear-throated call for piece I've heard in ages. That's The War Show, and that description doesn't do justice to this rich, multi-modal, and severely underappreciated film. It all begins with Obaidah Zytoon, a young woman who liked shooting home movies with her friends (and who became the film's director), playing forbidden music as a DJ on a Syrian radio station. "Going on air was like dancing in a mine field," she recalls. As the anti-Assad protests begin, she films the people marching with her. "I'm doing it to breathe," says a kid named Nawarah. A bevy of catchy chants fill the air with the bracing spirit of revolution. And so we meet her exuberant friends -- Houssam, her lover, Lulu, a friend who removes her hijab for the first time, Hisham, Lulu's boyfriend and a poet, and more. But even as their spirits remain high and the crowds swell, "demonstrations turned into funerals," she tells us. Journalists are targeted, the country's "senses polluted" by the ensuing flow of disinformation. "No one raised in Syria can define freedom," says one of her comrades. Dozens of locals show off scars left by torture at the hands of the Assad regime. The friends take one final trip, and then, out of nowhere, they start to be arrested, kidnapped, houses destroyed, one is even killed, the halcyon opening smashed. As the film goes on and the madness of the conflict spirals ever farther away from believability, I found myself lost -- I didn't know where we were, when we were, or what to believe. Intelligently, the film doesn't attempt an encyclopedic or journalistic account of the conflict -- it would be impossible as yet anyway -- so what we're left with are fragments that we can barely situate or hold onto. Scenes of destruction, of protests and counter-protests between those wanting democracy and those wanting a caliphate, children playing with unsafed rifles, and, of course, an inside look into how a revolution gets co-opted by warlords and arms dealers, each staging some unreality for YouTube to further their financial cause. "There was a place for everyone in the war show," Obaidah explains, "except for the people." Many moments of brilliance follow after this, but it culminates in the very final scene of the film, just as a felt most poetically and tragically lost (which, of course, is the point). After years of prison, a disappeared friend returns unexpectedly, reconciling the lives of the few friends who remain. "Syria as we know it is gone," she intones, but kneels over a clay pot, gathering soil and planting seeds, and she says of the Syrian people, "We will plant the seed of peace around the planet." And there it is: the powerful, beautiful, perfect message of The War Show -- that the Syrian diaspora is, contrary to what every xenophobic isolationist asshole has ever said, the greatest peace movement of the 21st Century. Because the Syrian people, each scarred by the madness of their country's war, will carry the scars of that war their entire lives, scars that will always speak to the necessity of peace, wherever they live and as long as they live. It's an essential message and an essential film.

Brimstone and Glory (Viktor Jakovleski, 2017) I guess that in the back of my mind, I knew that documentary could be pure spectacle -- what, after all, are IMAX documentaries? -- but I never imagined I'd spend fully half of a feature length documentary leaning forward, mouth agape, absolutely in awe of the visceral madness taking place in front of me. Brimstone and Glory is a documentary about fireworks -- specifically the absolutely bonkers annual fireworks festival in Tultepec, Mexico, where half the buildings in town are labeled "Peligro" (they build the fireworks there, year-round), where they erect hundred-foot-high towers of fireworks (castles of fire, they call them) and where they build sculptures of bulls the size of buses and run them through downtown, shooting fireworks off of them into crowds of thrill-seeking and oft-injured spectators. Director Viktor Jakovleski spent went three years in a row, shooting with drone cameras, an arsenal of Go-Pro's, and cinematographers covered head-to-toe in protective gear diving headlong into the middle of the mayhem. Add to that eruptive sound design, sharp editing, and a driving original score co-written by Behn Zeitlin (the guy who directed and wrote the music for Beasts of the Southern Wild), and you've got one of the best adrenaline rushes you can get sitting still in a seat. Best moment: as they're setting up the castles of fire, lightning strikes one of them, setting it alight. Cut to the perspective of a Go-Pro mounted on a man's head whose job it is to rapidly scale the wooden tower without a safety harness and put things in order. Damn.

Manifesto (Julian Rosefeldt, 2017) Extreme close-up, shallow-focus, ultra-slow-motion: a fuse burns across the screen, sending sparks in all directions while Cate Blanchett quotes some delicious gobbledegook from Tristan Tzara's Dada Manifesto, culminating with, "I am neither for nor against and I do not explain because I hate common sense." Thus began a film that refused common sense and did not explain itself. Cut to old women shooting off fireworks over some abandoned Eastern bloc factory or weather station. As a drone camera flies over the tumbledown complex, we find Cate Blanchett, dressed as a shabby character that recalls Denis Lavant's Monsieur Merde, dragging a suitcase through the ruins and quoting Marx. In a flash, the opening credits are a barrage: huge white block letters on a black background, the names of artists and thinkers who wrote manifestos, each on screen for about a third of a second, like a stripped-down Enter the Void. The ensuing 90-minute film follows Blanchett as she dons a dozen different disguises in a dozen different environments -- from a puppet shop to a garbage processing facility to an anechoic chamber, all brilliantly photographed -- and speaks excerpts from a few dozen manifestos from across the last century and a half. To be clear, this is not a documentary. In fact, it began as a 13-channel video installation that editor Bobby Good transformed into a feature. Though most of the audience was probably befuddled and confused about the origin of these words (the film does not caption the quotations), they were generally amused by the absurdity of deterritorializing the tone of the manifesto into more quotidian environments (a highlight: Blanchett as a news anchor conversing with Blanchett as a field reporter in a rainstorm). I enjoyed the handsome cinematography and the Nils Frahm score, but I had the most fun whenever I recognized the origin of the words: Maciunas, Lewitt, Jarmusch, Brakhage, and a few others. As for the words I didn't recognize ("Equal rights for all materials," "One dies as a hero or an idiot, which is the same thing," "Elephants are very big and cars go very fast, but so what?"), I looked a bunch of them up and learned something. A nice provocation of a film. Perfect for screening the last week of a class on avant-garde art history.

Distant Constellation (Shevaun Mizrahi, 2017) A lovely, slow-moving film made of lovely slow-moving and somewhat haunting images. The whole is not greater than the sum of its parts, making it a film that's not especially worth seeking out, but a few of the images will probably stick with me. In Istanbul, languid shots of a building under construction intercut with languider scenes of life in a retirement home. It all seems to take place neither in the past, nor the present, nor the future, but a place disconnected from time, where the overworked young build a future that won't happen while the un-visited old disappear from a past equally unreachable. Two old men ride up and down on an elevator in order to have a private conversation with each other. A very old woman who insists on being known by a pseudonym (Selma) falls asleep in the middle of an interview. One old codger, not without some charm, recounts the sexual exploits of his youth before proposing marriage to the director, saying she'll surely outlive him, which would make the marriage to her advantage. A stopped clock labeled USSR sits next to a working Western one. An old woman complains that now she walks too slowly to make it all the way across the street while the walk sign is on. The rhythms of the modern world aren't kind to everyone, but as tales of the Armenian genocide reveal, perhaps the world was never all that kind. So this constellation drifts on, and fades away.

Still Tomorrow (Fan Jian, 2016) A woman with cerebral palsy living in a remote Chinese village writes a poem that gets shared a million times on Chinese Facebook and scores her a book deal. That sounds like a good hook for a documentary, but the film lacks a clear shape or direction. For the most part, Yu Xiuhua spends the film not charismatically soaking up her newfound fame (though there's a bit of that, and it's really fun), but rather fighting with and divorcing a husband she's never loved. That focus feels strange until you notice that the poetry isn't really the object of investigation here, but rather the abuse which lower-class disabled people suffer in exchange for a caregiver. Sadly, this theme receives scant development. Still, there's plenty of her lovely poetry on display. "Silent wheat in the moonlight / the frictions between them / are the trembling of all the things of the earth." Here the image shows a wheatfield near her home. It's a choice not entirely without grace, but when a documentary's images cannot stand alongside its subject's words, the project falters.

Lindy Lou, Juror #2 (Florent Vassault, 2017) I desperately wanted to like this film. Lindy Lou served on a jury two decades ago that sent a murderer to death row. There's no doubt the man was guilty, but in the intervening years Lindy Lou has come to deeply regret this decision. So she and the documentarian travel around Mississippi tracking down her fellow jurors and finding out whether any of them changed their minds. It's a clear spine with clear motivation and all, but the structure ends up deeply limiting the film, since many of the people she goes to talk to aren't all that interesting people to talk to. The film was at its best when one of the jurors who'd also felt pangs of guilt years later suggests that their ought to be a state-funded counseling service for jurors who have to do such work. In the Q&A after the film, Lindy Lou, who was there in person, suggested that the trauma experienced by jurors on such cases was a bit like the trauma experienced by soldiers -- and she ought to know, she's a veteran herself. But she made the mistake of mentioning the film American Sniper to the fairly liberal crowd at T/F, which drew a couple of muted snarls from people seated near me. And in that moment I realized that even if Lindy Lou's on the right side of the death penalty debate, the Confederate flag flying on her property and her husband's gun enthusiasm (both depicted in the film) put her in such a different world from many of the folks in the audience that effective bipartisan collaboration might be impossible. I rarely learn more from the Q&A than from the film, but that was the case here.

[thekindmagic]

In which Ardyn makes good on his threat to keep Noctis’s friends company while he’s in the Crystal… Specifically: Ignis. Because that’s where my brain always goes.

( @demishock here you go!! Thanks so much for talking this idea out with me!!)

Seven years, eleven months, thirteen days.

To whatever extent one can speak of “days,” any longer.

Ignis has been keeping careful track of the time and date since the incident in Altissia, to make up for his inability to rely on cycles of light and darkness.

He started counting after Gralea.

For as much time as it took just to learn how to navigate with his blindness, as much time as he’s spent cooking in Lestallum, researching with Talcott in Hammerhead, hunting with Prompto and Gladio… Ignis has spent the majority of these years alone. It’s easier this way, somehow. Time passes more smoothly in his own head, when he can get lost in memories of the past and hopes for the future.

That’s not to say that travelling and fighting alone is a particularly good decision. Ignis takes risks the others might chastise him for, risks he would never let them get away with.

Tonight, for example, he’s settled in to rest and eat without bothering to find a warded campground. 

When he hears the footsteps approach, the brush of thick layered fabric, he curses himself for his own insouciance. He deserves this.

Ignis stays very still, continues working on his soup as though he he’s taken no notice of the new arrival.

“Enough for two?”

No matter how many times this happens, the mocking tone will never fail to set Ignis’s teeth on edge. “No,” he snaps.

“Not expecting company? I understand.” Ardyn’s voice drips with false sympathy. “I suppose it has been some time…”

Ignis is ready to throw his dinner in Ardyn’s face, for all the good it would do. “What is it you want, Chancellor?”

“Why, company, of course! This eternal darkness can get so lonely… Though I suppose you might know better than anyone, yes?”

Why does Ignis put up with this? Why does he engage? He knows Gladio still attacks on sight, swinging uselessly until he exhausts himself and Ardyn departs, laughing. He knows Prompto gave up on wasting ammunition years ago: now he covers his ears and sings to himself until he’s alone again. Why does Ignis let Ardyn speak?

Because sometimes he says something useful, of course. Because from a handful of thoughtless words scattered over the years, Ignis has been able to piece together a story corroborated by the royal tombs. Because listening is all he can do.

That doesn’t make it easy.

“You aren’t welcome here,” Ignis says flatly.

Ardyn laughs, delighted. “My, my… You are unshakable, aren’t you?  I suspect you may find the idea of death rather agreeable. Or is there truly nothing you fear?” 

Ignis smiles bitterly. "Do you expect me to fear you?”

“And why not?”

“You ran out of ways to hurt me in Gralea, Chancellor.”

The title is the best weapon he has, perhaps the only weapon. If the theory Ignis has labored over is correct, then being conflated with the Empire will always be a thorn in Ardyn’s side, regardless of how long it’s been since Niflheim’s collapse.

“Always dear Noct, isn’t it?”

Ignis nearly flinches. He isn’t the only one armed with pointed words. He tries so hard not to let their conversations drift this way, but Ardyn must sense his weakness - they always end up here, sooner or later.

“Come now, be honest.” Ardyn can be so disgustingly conspiratorial. “It’s a relief, isn’t it, to be free of the endless babysitting? It must be.”

“You are not as all-knowing as you think.”

Ardyn scoffs. “Please, there’s no need for rudeness. You’ve simply piqued my curiosity. What is it you see in your Chosen King? Are you so eager to cook his dinners and wipe his nose?”

Ignis’s hands go tight on his soup bowl.

“Ah, not fond of such jokes? They do seem accurate, if you’ll excuse my saying so.”

“They are not accurate. I assure you.”

“You would say more, but you don’t wish to speak of him to me. So private. In all things, so I’ve gathered, but in none so much as…” Ardyn makes a deeply concerning sound of realization. He lets out a long breath, almost a whistle. “Oh, Ignis. You’re right. It’s taken me far too long.”

No.

Ignis stands up abruptly.

Ardyn laughs. There’s a strange sound in the air, a pulsing chill, and suddenly Ignis can’t move. His body goes rigid. His fingers straighten unbidden, every muscle flexing and straining like he’s been struck by lightning. He drops his bowl. It shatters against the hard ground at his feet with a heart-stopping crack. 

Ignis tries not to panic.

“Perhaps you should thank me,” Ardyn drawls. “If I’d left well enough alone, he’d be married, now.”

“You think-” Ignis knows he shouldn’t keep talking. But his heart is racing, he’s flooded with useless adrenaline, and it’s not as though he can do anything else. “You think I wouldn’t prefer to see him and Lady Lunafreya alive and well? To see him happy? At peace?”

“How admirably selfless.” Ardyn’s voice is closer now. The dark amusement is as constricting as the magic, unbearable.

Ignis cannot take much more of this. He’s been so careful not to let on about what he’s learned from the tombs, so diligent in not tipping his hand. But the potential consequences his rational mind understands feel like nothing at all compared to having a way to push back.

“We do not all expect payment for our love, Chancellor. Nor do we all desire to harm others when we, ourselves, are hurt.”

Ardyn is even closer, now. Ignis can feel the amusement rolling off him in waves. “Are you lecturing me?”

“Yes. Noctis’s story surpasses yours a hundredfold. Even were he never to return, he would still be a far greater king than you have proven.”

The deadly silence is all the confirmation Ignis needs. Rash as it was to tip his hand, it’s so satisfying to make the unexpected move for once. For a single moment, he feels like a strategist again.

In the next moment, there’s a hand around his throat.  

Ignis reaches out on instinct for his weapons. He can move again, but he can’t reach Noctis’s arsenal. Ardyn’s doing, it has to be, because Noctis isn’t- can’t be-

Frantically, Ignis clutches at Ardyn’s arm.

Ardyn laughs. It starts quietly, barely a chuckle, and builds until it seems to echo back from all around them. “So ingenious, aren’t you?”

Ignis gasps, growing lightheaded.

“If you know my story,” Ardyn says softly, his breath against Ignis’s face, “then surely you know my title? My true title.”

Ardyn removes his hand, but the suffocating pressure remains. Ignis wraps his hands uselessly around his own throat. Dizzy, he falls to his knees.

“Oh, what a magnificent start! I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. This should all be so familiar to you, after all.” Ardyn threads his fingers through Ignis’s hair, a mockery of benevolence. “Go on: Your Majesty.”

This is not how Ignis wants to die.

That’s the thought he holds on to in the midst of his fear, his anger, his pride: he’s waited nearly eight years against the hope that Noctis will come back to him. He’ll wait eight more, and then eight more after that, he’ll wait as long as he has to.

He’ll do whatever he must.

Ignis reaches out in his mind to the wall of Noctis’s arsenal, the wall he can’t breach with Ardyn blocking him. He presses himself as close as he can get, willing Noctis to hear, to forgive him, to understand who he’s truly calling out for as he whispers, “Your Majesty.”

Ardyn lets him drop.

Ignis lands face-down in the dirt, gasping, his arms too weak and shaky to push himself up.

“There,” Ardyn says pleasantly, “now we understand one another. Such an important thing between friends, don’t you think?”

We are not friends, Ignis thinks viciously. But the fact that he’s still alive certainly means something.

Ignis manages to prop himself into a slightly more upright position. “You won’t kill me, will you?” His voice is raspy and painful. “You won’t kill any of us.”

Ardyn hums blithely. “Won’t I?”

“How else would you hurt him, while he’s out of your reach? How else would you vent your petty rage?”

“Adorable,” Ardyn purrs.

“You subsist on hatred.” Every word hurts, every second is a fight to stay lucid. “Do you think you can turn us into men like you? Break us and twist our hearts?”

“Oh, perish the thought! You are far better men than that.” The poisonous mockery is a fog in the air. “No matter how the years of darkness stretch out before you, you will never waver in your precious hope. Your love.” Ardyn laughs.

Ignis shakes his head, willing himself not to be sick. “It will not happen.”

“Hmm. For argument’s sake, I might invite you to look around at the world my petty hatred has wrought. But I’m afraid your stalwart devotion has left you… unable.”

Ignis’s arms finally give out. He rolls clumsily onto his back, breathing hard.

Ardyn kneels beside him. Very slowly, almost gently, he removes the visor from Ignis’s face. Ignis turns his head away, vulnerable, wincing.

“I might have killed him already, have you thought of that?” Ardyn traces idly over Ignis’s scarred eye. “Perhaps that’s why you couldn’t reach your weapons just now. Oh, imagine if you’d passed him bleeding on the roadside while he choked out your name? How it must have felt to watch you leave him behind, as he once refused to leave you…”

“No,” Ignis whispers, beyond any semblance of rationality. There are tears on his face: desperate, ashamed. “I would know. If he were near… I would know.”

“Thank you for your company, Ignis,” Ardyn says, a smile in his voice. “You’ve been a charming host.”

There’s a sharp pain in his head, the cold ache of Ardyn’s magic, and Ignis slips into unconsciousness.

[terryblount]

Daemon X Machina – Review

”Don’t worry Coop, I won’t forget our Adage”

“I dig giant robots, you dig giant robots. We dig giant robots, chicks dig giant robots”

”By the gods, I dig giant Robots”

-Provost Coop and Vicar Jamie

Giant robots just won’t go out of style. While they may never be pop-culture giants like superheroes, the fact of the matter is that for as long as there are niche interests, there will always be love (sometimes too much) for giant mechanized humanoids.

Daemon X Machina is game that steeps itself in the Real Robot subgenre of mecha. You play a mercenary who uses their giant robot to complete missions on behalf of three mega conglomerates and fight an army of AI machines. While the game is easily a good mech game, it oftentimes drops surprises so out of left field that it stops it from being a great one.

Design

Like many games designed specifically for the Nintendo Switch,  Daemon X Machina looks amazing. Bold colors mesh with Armored Core-esque mecha designs and interesting looking characters to make for a game that just oozes visual appeal.

The bosses in this game all look amazing too, with all of them taking on the form of futuristic vehicles. The faceless, bold shaped designs combine with their purpose-driven shape to give them an almost megaman-level of informative design.

One of the strongest features in this game is the addition of a customizable HUD. The entire HUD is fully customizable via the menus, allowing you to reposition, resize and even adjust the opacity for every item on the display.

All this comes together for a game that just looks good. The environment colors look amazing, and everything’s just the right amount of detailed to not lose your mecha in all the on-screen chaos.

Gameplay

At its core, Daemon X Machina plays really well. The handling of the mechs feel good, and the game’s own integrated lock on makes sure that you don’t need too much precision while you’re zipping around the arenas.

War In The Handheld

The game’s mission structures remind me a lot of games like Monster Hunter where there are story missions which you do once, while you have “Free Missions” to be repeated ad nauseam and co-operative missions to do with either AI partners or friends.

The game’s story missions are particularly frustrating, especially once you start seeing the pattern to them. If the mission is story-driven, there will be a lot of dialogue both before the mission and during it. The start of the mission is particularly bad for this, as often times the game will load you into the mission but just give you nothing to do until the characters finish mouthing off at each other.

The game tries to change it up occasionally, most memorably with a mission where you play as your pilot without the mech. Unfortunately playing as your pilot is such an alien experience as there’s nothing particularly unique for you in that form, the game would have probably been better off without it.

Just Get In The Robot

But when you’re piloting the robot, the game is good. The boosters feel good to use, and there’s enough different equipment to build your mech to play up and down the tank-DPS scale.

Another gripe I have to bring up, however, is with the weapons. While the game has plenty of them, it suffers from a lot of balancing issues. Laser weapons, for example, cost both ammo and Femto (a special resource you generate or pick up) and don’t do all that much more than your standard gun, making them effectively useless.

Limited Blade Works

While my love of giant robots make me want to experiment with all the weapons this game throws at me, at the end of the day I end up using mostly machine guns because they are blatantly the game’s best weapons. Since so much of this game moves at high speeds, naturally a weapon that gets more dice has a higher chance of hitting its target. I’m not sure how I’d fix this, but I feel like there is an answer to be explored on how to fix this.

Melee combat is also uninspired, with not many options for the player who prefers to get in close. Most melee weapons have only one attack, except the light swords which will dash between targets. Again, I don’t know how I’d fix the problem, but I’m sure that there is a solution to make the melee combat feel rewarding to use considering the challenges of connecting to a mech moving way faster than you in the opposite direciton.

The best way to describe the gameplay would pretty much be an A+ on the basics, but falling apart when you add any kind of depth to it. While it gets the absolute basics- flying the robot and shooting bad guys- down, it does start feeling empty if you start wanting any more than that.

Content

Mono Build Fighter

Daemon X Machina has some form of communication disorder. While many of the bosses have cool motifs going for them, one of the most frustrating things you will encounter is a lack of any real way to apply those to your own mecha.

When you unlock the factory, you’ll find that there are some boss weapons, but not nearly enough. The truth is that the game has a second, secret factory which produces more boss equipment. While I always enjoy a good secret in a video game, I feel like the sheer ease with which to miss the secret factory puts it in a dangerous position.

I’m not going to lie and say discovering the secret factory didn’t drastically improve my thoughts on the game. Many of the boss weapons unlocked there are actually fun, from laser drills to giant jet boosters to several greatswords. My only complaint is that once again, I wish there was more.

Fashion X Machina

When it comes to customizing your mech, I feel like the game could have taken a few pages from Gundam Breaker. Eye colors are not customizable, for example, which really makes planning your Fashion X Machina game a lot less fulfilling if ultimately it has to look good with the game’s pre-set red visor.

Most offensively, weapons are not color customizable, either. For whatever reason the game decided this, making many of the coolest weapons look quite the eyesore if they don’t sync with your colorscheme.

Your pilot is customizable, too, with a variety of upgrades that slowly mechanize their body. While this is cool it is also very tedious if you screw up, as the only way to roll back upgrades is to start back at level one, meaning you should be fairly loaded with cash if you suddenly want to change your upgrades.

08th Arsenal Team

Equipment aside, the game also gets quite the mileage out of its cast of mercenary pilots. They exist to be unlocked as supports in Free and Co-op missions, and this can be quite the fun task. However the game doesn’t really explain much to you on how to unlock them, and it seems like their appearances also seem to be entirely random.

Again, while Daemon X Machina’s options certainly aren’t bad, they do feel like they missed a few obvious choices that could have been so much more.

Personal Opinion

I Dig Giant Robots

As a mecha fan, I quite like Daemon X Machina. The thought of high speed dogfights against other pilots is a seductive one, and the game nails it down quite well.

However, like a date that starts strong only to run out of topics partway through, Daemon X Machina does start to leave you wondering if there’s anything missing from the game as you get to the end.

…But I Also Dig Customization

The game plays it quite safe with its weapon options, with most guns being your standard assault rifle/machine gun / shotgun types, rather than play with the weirder stuff you can do with giant robots.

The shoulder weapons have a bit more variety to them with railguns and laser cannons, but ultimately you do wish there was a little more of each of them.

This Story Isn’t Just For Show

The story for the game isn’t that good, either. It’s charming at the start, with all the mercenaries having their own quirks and dynamics. However, the story seems very intent on being as dramatic as possible, leading to some truly frustrating plot points in the game (further compounded by the earlier mentioned delay of gameplay because of it).

There’s some nice callbacks to Mobile Suit Gundam, though, most notably with two of the characters in the game being voiced by the voice actors for Amuro Ray and Char Aznable.

Considering some of the dialogue said by the characters towards the end of the game and how you unlock co-op partners, I can’t help but wonder if there are iterations of this game with more Persona-like social elements. Some kind of fleshing out of the Co-op partners would have definitely been good, as some of them can be genuinely charming.

Conclusion

Daemon X Machina is by no means a perfect game. While certainly rough around the edges the game excels at its strengths enough to stand on its own two mechanized feet.

I guess the problem with being a niche game is that you will inevitably be taken apart, and have your individual components judged against games that did those well. This happens any time you try to look at the aspects of Daemon such as its hunting and mech building.

Daemon X Machina certainly zooms past the “Good” rating for a game, but to push it into “Great” does require some personal taste assessments on the part of the end user.

For all my gripes though, hunting a giant drill mech with my friends or going 2v4 against a mercenary squad is, well…

nice.

Copy Purchased By Reviewer and played on Nintendo Switch In Handheld Mode Primarily

Daemon X Machina – Review published first on https://touchgen.tumblr.com/

[spacepirateafterdark]

Ricky x Evil Rick

They had taken a stop for the night, having spent the majority of that day on a destruction spree across a small planet. The inhabitants of this world could do little more than run in the wake of two Ricks mad with power. Even with their military at full force, it wasn't any match of the arsenal the Rick's had brought with them. Ricky had volunteered to keep the clearer head, steering their vehicle so Rick could drink and get as high as he wanted. She liked it better anyway, watching him get carried away. Not thinking before firing a barrage on a helpless crowd... It excited her.

Now, they rested, holding up in an abandoned hotel. They had set up a perimeter of robot sentries just in case, but they doubted the locals would have the balls to try anything. Ricky stood by the window, looking out at the wreckage she could see through the glass; fires and toppled buildings, people still fleeing. It was quite a sight.  After a little while, her attention is pulled from the view by the feeling of eyes on her from across the room.

Rick as laying on his back on the bed, propped up on the pillows and he was staring at her with an almost sly smirk. He was still quite intoxicated; she could tell by the look in his eye. She also noticed the lazy way he was rubbing at his crotch. Ricky smirked back, making no attempt to get any closer. "What are you looking at, old man?" Though of course she knew full well. At first, she thinks he might not answer, just keep up the slow rhythm his hand had picked up on the outside of his pants. But finally he sits up a little more, his arm going to his side.

"I was thinking about what it would be like to have those gorgeous lips of yours wrapped around my cock..." He replied, his voice rumbling pur. His smirk grew to a crooked grin. It was something of a wonder to Ricky how he could somehow manage an odd charm in spite of his lewd language and obvious lack of sobriety... If she had been any other person, she was certain she would have already gone to him. "Or, you could push me hard against this wall and fuck me like a man." She challenged, a grin of her own appearing. "Not too drunk and lazy, are you?"

To her surprise, she had no more than finished speaking and Rick was standing with unexpected grace and closing the space between them in quick strides. He had her by the wrist in a tight grip before she could react and suddenly pushed her chest first against the wall, forcing her wrist behind her back. He moved in close behind her to pin her there. Ricky could feel his hard on against her ass; that with the rough treatment gave her a quiver of excitement. Rick spoke directly into her ear in a low tone, his lips just grazing her flesh as they formed words. "Mmm... I'm going to make you regret saying that Ricky," He was opening his pants and yanking down Ricky's as he was speaking, kicking her legs wider apart and rubbing his cock against her pussy. " 'cause I'm about to destroy your asshole before I turn your throat into my personal cock cozy."

Ricky couldn't speak, her arousal getting the better of her, and so her only reply was a quiet groan as Rick started to forced himself into her under prepared asshole. Thankfully, he wasn't going in completely dry as he had some moisture from her pussy as well as the dribble of his precum, but Ricky could still feel every inch of him entering her, stretching her painfully. Still, her head swirled with building lust and pleasure; she couldn't help but love this. All too soon, he slams the rest of his length into her ass until his groin is flush to her cheeks. Ricky clenches her teeth, stifling a moan. She won't give him the satisfaction, at least not yet.

Rick pulled out about half way before slamming right back in, his balls slapping against her vagina. He could tell just how wet she had gotten and it made him smirk. "Come on, Ricky - you can let it out," more low growling purs from him into her ear. It made her shudder. "I want to hear you moaning for me like a grateful little slut." He rips down her tank top with his free hand, exposing her breasts. His rough yet nimble fingers explore over her skin, stumbling over her nipple ring and taking hold. Soon, he's tugging and twisting torturously at her nipples as he picks up pace on her ass. She holds back as long as she can, but it quickly becomes too much and she starts to let out moan after pleasured moan. "F-fuck... Rick~ mmmph -Ah ahhh... Oh~ fuck~" 

Fluid ran freely from Ricky's pussy, coating Rick's balls and her own thighs. She's would cum soon. "Mmm...Rick - I'm close~" His thrusts became shallower at this, keeping his cock as deep in her as he could; he was close too and he was as determined to cum inside as he was for them to cum together. "Hnn, I know; you're making such a fucking mess -I hope you're ready to clean it up."

Feeling the familiar roiling in his balls, Rick presses harder against Ricky, his hand releasing her nipple and winding tight into her hair. He pants heavily as he slams hard into her hole a few more times and with one final thrust, fills her insides with his hot jizz. The sensation of the first gooey rope of his cum is enough to send her over the edge, and she climaxes along with him. Shuddering and squirting, moaning and panting as she rides it out.

Slowly, Rick eases off of her, watching his dick slowly slip out of her spent asshole. It's not without some pride that he watches a large wad of his cum slip out of her still twitching sphincter. After a minute, he releases her and letting her turn around and face him. "You look good with your clothes half off and an assload of my jizz..." He taunts, taking hold of her again and starting to guide her to her knees. "But I'm not done with you yet."

-To Be Continued-