#so you can run him with just shields so he can deal with low health

[homoeroticvillain]

there was some post a while ago that was like tag the last character you wrote about and last game you played. and for me it was nagito and star rail so i made the joke that that sounds like a crossover i would make and not tell anyone about. anyways guess what

[mdhwrites]

Fire Trailblazer is Slept on Too Hard

Since I got him, he has been a permanent part of my team. Literally only Skaracabaz has ever convinced me to take him out. He was my sole sustainer until Phantylia, at which point I rocked dual sustainers with him and Bailu and I have cleared up to Conundrum 6 of Gold and Gears with him as my SOLE sustainer running Nihility.

And very reasonably you might ask "HOW THE HELL DID YOU DO THAT!?"

They (and sorry that I'll likely use He a lot in this, I have Caelus) don't look impressive. They don't even look functional! A LOT of people have stories of what is supposed to be their showcase fight leaving only them alive to fight the Phase 2 of Jarilo 6's boss specifically because he couldn't keep them alive. So what gives? Do I just have the most cracked out Trailblazer on the planet with literally as high defense as you can get it?

No, I just have the defense set on and the Belobog Planar Ornaments on. I have okay defense substats but when I put together the set, I wasn't paying hard attention to substats and haven't grinded the set since. I admittedly have even defense boots on him so quite literally EVERYTHING gives him defense besides his gloves but that's it.

The thing that needs to be remembered about the role of sustainer, especially for preservation is that their job isn't to make sure you take no damage, it's about keeping you alive. Fire Trailblazer does that. Even if you're taking chip damage each round on your characters, he's still reducing the damage they're taking by roughly 10-20% of their health for most characters in the game. After all, max level of his ability might only be a bit over 6% of his defense but 6% of FIVE THOUSAND DEFENSE is still over 300, plus another 89 base on top. That's 400+ shield in a game where most characters have less than 4000 health at level 80, even when fully equipped, if not almost 3000. And the game's damage understands this, keeping damage a lot lower than you expect in most scenarios so that your DPSes in main content don't just crumple up and die from a light breeze. This gives them the extra buffer those DPSes need to stay alive A LOT longer.

And that's without recognizing two elements:

1: He has an emergency button for if aggro gets off of him and your DPS is getting hammered. His ultimate not only deals not an insignificant amount of damage (his damage scales off that giant defense stat after all) but also reups his shield because

2: Literally every action he takes gives you his shield. You don't need to spend skill points to get this buffer. If you do use his skill, not only is his defense already super high but he takes 50% less damage than he'd already be taking while giving a 15% damage reduction to your allies for those pesky AoE attacks. Which...

Let's admit one of the biggest issues for him: He doesn't have a natural taunt, he only has his skill. Admittedly, Preservation characters inherently pull more Aggro inherently but you DO want a Landau's Choice or Moment of Victory on him. I went from sometimes everyone ganging up on my DPSes and causing problems despite the party wide shield to that being a LOW chance of happening after getting Moment of Victory on him. But that only happened for me maybe two months ago. Slightly before Scaracabaz came out. I still used him before then because any defense Preservation LC works and I literally didn't get Landau's Choice until like maybe a month ago. My luck in this game is not good.

The other big detriment for him is that he is slow and his shield only lasts two turns. This is okay usually but it easily can leave your party open to the first attacks from the enemies (then again, there are enemies with 140 speed and so will outspeed most DPSes with their speed boots on so good luck stopping that damage with anyone) and there can be times where because your other characters lap him, they may briefly be without shields, especially if you don't hold back on his ultimate to be able to cover those blind spots. And the defense aren't insignificant. They give me 600 defense. Sure that's like 40 points of shielding but you are barely keeping your shields on people after an attack already. It can be daunting to want to swap out for that speed even if it means more consistent defense. But if you want speed boots on him with some good defense substats to help make up for what you're losing, it's the ONLY variable relic he has that has more than one substat you care about. Heck, his chest, rope, boots and orb could all be dedicated to getting speed substats if you wanted because they can't get the ONE substat he cares about otherwise which is Defense%. Unless you want to go Energy Regen Rope which is an interesting idea that I wouldn't go for personally but that's because I use his ult as a panic button.

I've saved his best role for last though, and frankly want to do a couple blogs about this game mode: He is the best sustainer in Simulated Universe. Aventurine is the only who is going to rival him in this and you get Fire Trailblazer for free.

That might sound even more insane than the rest of these claims but it's actually really simple. Shields are a lot harder to come by than healing in Simulated Universe. Literally only Preservation and Remembrance don't have a way to give you back health in their blessings. The only ones with any form of shield though are Preservation, Remembrance, Destruction and now Erudition. Erudition's requires using its keyword though so it's not easy to pull off while funny enough, the only one who can't heal in combat with a healing blessing they have without their keyword is Abundance. There's also only one relic that gives health during combat... But zero that give shields.

And hey, the way to get shields in these paths isn't consistent. The ONLY consistent shields (especially ones that are worth a damn) for multiple rounds in Preservation, the shield path, is a level 2 blessing that has an 80%/100% chance to give a 12%/15% shield, usually weaker than Trailblazer's already, and a level 3 blessing that gives its stackable shield. Meanwhile, the blessings that heal? Most of them are level 1 blessings with a couple stronger level 2s. Some paths like Hunt even get more options for healing once you have their keyword. That healing can turn on Abundance's blessings but you're going to hard pressed to enable Preservation through blessings alone.

Which is a kind of a big deal when one of the level 1 Preservation blessings just gives a flat damage decrease of 16/24% damage which is a LOT for the only requirement being that you have a shield on. Preservation in general has a lot of strong blessings that can be utilized by any other path, not just when you're focusing Preservation... So long as you have a shielder.

And Fire Trailblazer doesn't even stop there as his offensive ult makes him able to take advantage of some fringe elements like ANYTHING in Erudition and being able to be given a follow up attack from Elation. All while giving a shield that makes sure that your characters aren't one shot. Hell, I run dual sustainer a lot of the time with Bailu as backup and those teams literally HAVE to be oneshot to die at that point most of the time. I don't know if I've ever lost an SU run with those two as my sustainers.

So yeah, I REALLY like Fire Trailblazer. It'll be hard for any other version of trailblazer to be better than them in my opinion, especially as a free character. Aventurine after all is the one I said could dethrone him as the best sustainer in SU after all and he's a limited five star. The fact that no one else in my opinion has beat him yet is kind of a big deal. I won't say he's the best sustainer everywhere, Huohuo kicks ass and Luocha is honestly so mechanically perfect as to be a mistake, but there's a reason I haven't pulled on another sustainer's banner yet.

I already have one that has almost never let me down.

======+++++======

Frankly, I could try to use Fire Trailblazer against Scarakabaz at this point. His death balls just kind of spooked me with their damage and so I actually swapped to running Bailu and Gepard for the fight so that essentially I could ult for ult his explosions. It's not a fast way to do the fight but it got me through it, even with Welt and Yanqing as my two DPSes otherwise.

And I am serious about wanting to talk more about SU stuff. I saw a comment of someone going "I can clear Memory of Chaos 12 but can't beat Swarm Disaster 5" and that has gnawed at me because it's a skill issue but a reasonable skill issue because not everyone is good at roguelikes. It's just that talking about that has so many facets it's probably going to be multiple blogs interlinked to each other because just general advice/rules I have on the mode would be LONG.

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

A Twitter you can follow too

And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.

[jcmarchi]

Black Myth: Wukong Preview - A Classic Tale Retold - Game Informer

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/black-myth-wukong-preview-a-classic-tale-retold-game-informer/

Black Myth: Wukong Preview - A Classic Tale Retold - Game Informer

Black Myth: Wukong is an action role-playing game that closely follows the events of Wu Cheng’en’s seminal novel Journey to the West. The work, based on Chinese mythology and Buddhist folklore, follows a monk who meets a spirit called Sun Wukong, often called Monkey King, during his search for sacred religious texts. While its central narrative is still unknown, Game Science’s upcoming Soulslike depicts Wukong’s encounters with Yaoguai, various creatures and demons in Chinese myth, set within stunning Eastern landscapes.

My hands-on demo begins at the base of Black Wind Mountain’s summit, in a place called the Forest of Wolves, populated with rich greenery, alpine trees, and all manner of wind-weathered stones and shrines. The path to the top is guarded by scattered groups of foxes and wolf-like humanoids who wield axes, shields, and bows. While these enemies aren’t challenging, they serve as great punching bags to learn combat fundamentals like dodging, charged-up staff techniques, and early spells like Immobilize, which freezes enemies in place for a burst-attack opportunity.

Black Myth: Wukong Release Date Trailer:

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Wukong’s primary weapon is a bō staff, referred to as Ruyi Jingu Bang in the inspirational literature, which he can shrink down to the size of a needle for safe-keeping inside his ear. The Monkey King commands an arsenal of weapon combos, including the ability to charge up Jingu Bang to pool together Focus Points, which allow him to unleash flashy heavy strikes. While you can’t store the Focus Points you acquire by charging his weapon – Wukong automatically attacks as you release the button – you can store up focus points to use later in the fight by landing enough light attacks on an enemy. Learning the timing of these weapon flourishes and how to use them alongside your growing library of mystic spells is critical to success against large opponents like the game’s many bosses.

While there are at least half a dozen optional and required bosses in the Forest of Wolves, I spend my time challenging two of its more difficult adversaries. The first is a flame-spear-wielding wolf named Guangzhi, who rushes me down and overwhelms me with flame-bending sweeps and dashes. After beating him on my fourth attempt, which I manage to do by relying on my immobilization spell’s cooldown, Guangzhi drops his double-tipped spear, called Red Tides, which slots into one of Wukong’s empty spell slots rather than replacing his magical staff. Upon activating the ability, Wukong momentarily transforms into the wolf I just defeated, allowing me to wield the boss’ fiery powers to inflict Scorch Bane, a status effect that sets enemies on fire and deals damage over time. Notably, Wukong’s health pool is separate from the Yaoguai he embodies, making this new ability a great tactic to use when low on health against Black Wind Mountain’s ravenous bosses.

I run past another optional boss – a gargantuan humanoid with a disproportionate golden head – and maneuver a bamboo-laden mountain ridge, finally making it to my destination: the Guanyin Temple, which is home to Lingxuzi, a building-sized canine appointed by a mysterious character known as the Black Wind King. The towering white wolf jumps in the air, scaling the entirety of the arena in a few seconds, and gets a taste of my blood after a swift strike. While Lingxuzi licks his lips, I freeze him in place and begin a flurry of light attacks and focused heavy strikes. Of course, this is a Soulslike, so I end up dying multiple times, slowly memorizing the Yaoguai’s movements and tactics over the course of roughly five attempts. When I finally triumph, I equip a rare wolf mask I loot from Lingxuzi’s corpse, granting me a damage buff against critically wounded enemies.

Black Myth: Wukong seems to present a compelling world of striking character designs, boss fights requiring skill mastery, and gorgeous environments. I eagerly await the game’s release, not simply for its excellent combat and promising character building, but to experience its take on the prominent Chinese folk tale.

[fanframesftw]

Warframe Concept: Uzziel, The Flayed

Medium Armor No Shields Medium Health Low Energy.

General Ability: Health-pool manipulation, lifesteal. In-Game Abilities: Passive - Increase the amount of health regenerated per second for teammates, while Uzziel loses health over time. Fear Not - Cause enemies to scatter, attack each other, and cause general chaos as they run about in abject fear and terror. Each enemy killed increases the overall health of teammates by 5 points when under this effect. Additionally, while this effect is active, teammates deal increased damage to the affected enemies. 25 energy. Crown of Thorns - Summon fleshy "thorns" around the heads of enemies within a several meter radius, gradually killing and draining them of health, which is then used to replenish the health of teammates and Uzziel himself. 50 energy. Wear and Tear - Every time you take damage from any source while this is active, transfer said lost health to friendly units in the form of raising their overall health for the duration of the mission. 55 energy. Run Red - Flay and wear your enemy's skin, increasing your overall health, armor, and increasing status resistance. 70 Energy. Summary: A truly tortured soul, Uzziel underwent some of the most inhumane torture possible at the hands of the Orokin. It is said that for every day he spent being tortured beyond recognition by them, he spent that same amount of time slowly enacting his revenge upon them. Use Uzziel to become what your enemies fear most. Reset the clock that's ticking to your ultimate demise. Make sure that nobody has to suffer the way Uzziel did, ever again.

Background:

"Dearest Uzziel. Why must you struggle so? What's that? You want your face back…? I can oblige, I suppose… Just sit still, damn it!" ~ Unknown Orokin.

During the war between the Tenno, Sentients, and Orokin, Uzziel was one of the few conscious and sapient warframes, made by Ballas in a fashion similar to Excalibur Umbra, but with significantly less venom and hatred involved. During the war, his operator was killed in front of him, and he was captured and taken in by the Orokin. After years of endless torture at Ballas' hands, Uzziel's helminth-induced outer skin was cut from his body and fashioned into a horrifying metallic patchwork, that was then given to Uzziel to wear. Everything but his face was removed, that is and to this day he wears a "mask" of his previous warframe appearance, which appears veiled and crowned with "thorns".

Uzziel will never be satisfied, not now that Ballas is dead, not now that his only purpose has been taken by the Dealmaker… Uzziel's endless obsession and neverending pain will only cause more pain to himself, and others around him, now.

To be Uzziel is to embody suffering, pure and simple. Appearance: Skinned and tortured, the entire surface area of Uzziel's flayed form is covered with painful lesions and helminth-inflicted scar tissue. Most of said lesions are self inflicted. The same thorns crowning his "masked" head spiral tightly around his arms, while his patchworked helminth skin is pulled into something resembling a toga.

Signature Weapons: Crucified - A four barreled gun with the first two barrels in a row (horizontally), and the other two lowered downwards, to where it forms something resembling an arch. Gold filigree outlines it the weapon, and verses in an unknown language are scrawled across its surface. It is fairly large, and deals primarily slash damage, alongside piercing. It shoots rounds not to dissimilar to what the boltor uses, but significantly larger, and alongside that, unlike the boltor, it is not a full-automatic. It is in fact semi-auto, but one pull of the trigger sends all four barrels firing. Hierophant - A whip made of the same "thorns" that Uzziel can summon, its handle is one carved from the wood of a tree that only grows now in and around Cetus. Extreme slashing damage, as well as leeching small amounts of health per enemy killed.

[haldenlith]

Warframe x Destiny 2

Okay, since I’ve kind of, on and off, compared the two, my brain got thinking on a “What If xyz Destiny 2 Character was an Operator in Warframe? What frame would they use/main?”

So here we go!

This will be excluding a lot of the new frames because I’m just not familiar enough with them. So that means we’re excluding everyone added after (and including, because I only know him vaguely as Gotta Go Fast frame) Gauss.

I also might have gone in and done custom appearances too... (Fashion frame, the true endgame.)

I’ll start with my D2 OC, Hal.

Hal: Inaros

At first, I was going to say Rhino or something, given Hal’s beefy build and tendency to just charge in and not often die (mm, yes, delicious almost 100 Resilience). But then, I realized, wait, he’s not just a Warlock, he’s a DEVOUR Warlock, and there’s one frame that ticks both the “eat your enemies and regain health” and “never die” boxes. That’s the Sand King himself, Inaros.

 Gotta love the Ramses helmet looking a bit like Nezarec’s Sin.

   Crow: Harrow

You know, you’d think, with his bird theme, I’d immediately say, oh, Zephyr. I’ll grant you, it’s not a bad choice. However, think about Crow’s whole character arc: it’s ultimately been about redemption and penance for past sins. There is a perfect frame for that, though the religiousy theme doesn’t fit, the idea of penance fits. Harrow. It also works in that Harrow tends to be something of a support and protection frame, while also being able to do damage. Another good suggestion would be Ivara, for her mechanics (they’re very Hunter-y). Maybe Crow would main Harrow, but would have Zephyr and Ivara back in his Orbiter for if he needs them?

   Ikora: Nova

So, initially I was going to say “Saryn”, but then I remembered that sheeeee got kinda nerfed, so she doesn’t deal out damage like she used to, and she doesn’t have very good survivability. Then I realized there’s another frame that works for our Warlock Vanguard: Nova. Ikora is supposed to low-key be the most powerful warlock in at least the entire system of Sol (yes, stronger than Osiris), so a frame with incredibly high DPS would be appropriate for her. There’s also Mesa, but I feel like her theme doesn’t fit as well, being a Gunslinger frame. Also, come on, the name. Nova. It’s perfect.

   Zavala: Hildryn

Big Shield Woman for “GET BEHIND MY SHIELD” Titan. Memes aside, I do think Hildryn is good for Zavala. She can take a lot of damage and still stay standing, while also protecting her allies. Very appropriate for our Titan Vanguard Dad. There’s not much else to say, honestly.

I don’t have Hildryn so I can’t do customizations to suit Zavala.

  Cayde-6: Mesa

Also why Ikora didn’t get Mesa, because I was going to give it to Mr. (Dead) Gunslinger, Cayde. At first, I considered Mirage, given her trickster theme, and Cayde was certainly a trickster, or Ivara because of her kit, but ah, the theme of Mesa just fits too perfectly, along with her general kit and damage. Also, just look at that fabulous hat with her Prime version. Cayde would wear that fancy ass cowboy hat if he wasn’t doing a cloak.

I also don’t have Mesa because I hate grinding Alad V, and I have terrible RNG with farming Prime parts.

  Saint-14: Rhino

Big chonk frame that offers some small amount of support to his allies (increases their damage), but is ultimately about charging in, head first, and wrecking face. This is very much the sort of frame you run in and headbutt things to death with. Also I feel like Rhino’s big Stomp ability is very Saint-ish. Angrily stomp the ground so hard you send your enemies flying into the air.

And an honorable mention:

Uldren Sov: Excalibur Umbra

Okay, so, I almost went with Equinox, because of the dual thing. Why? Well, when I think of Uldren, I think of co-dependent, unfortunately. As much of a badass as he was, he... required having another half, which was Mara. He fell to pieces when that other half wasn’t there. So, it’d have to be a frame that works in some dual-dependent sense. Equinox’s kit doesn’t really fit, though. Or, rather, only the Day form fits. Sure, one could go “Oh, but the Night Form is Mara,” buuuut this is a singular frame used by a singular operator. Also, I... don’t think Mara would play pacifist support. SO! I went with Excalibur Umbra.

Excalibur because he’s just an all around good frame to run into a fray on his own and be a badass, plus his Exalted Blade ability performs essentially the exact same as the sword that was dedicated to Uldren, Black Talon. However, it has to be the Umbra version, not just because the whole “edgy tortured existence” thing (although that too), but because Umbra is unique in that, when the Operator steps out of it, it can act on its own, unlike other frames which are basically just... weapon suits, at the end of the day. Umbra is, in essence, dependent on the Operator, in spite of being able to move on his own.

As an addendum, I’d really pick Stalker, but Stalker is unique and not a Warframe, technically. That said, Stalker is 100% an irritating bully to every Operator and Warframe out there. (No, Stalker, I don’t feel like fighting you today, please get out of my mission, ugh...)

(I used the Zato helmet because it’s so damn extra and I don’t have any of the other fancy helms. Also, careful not to get cut on that red/black EDGE.)

[subwalls]

i simply think a sensory deprivation curse on c!dream would be like. hm.

raising a world seed into a full-blown server requires some negotiation. it’s not hard, because the universe loves each and every player that exists, but the voices are pickier about it, so it’s still a process.

dream is very good at it. he has to be, to spawn so many little worlds for manhunts and the like. this time, though, he’s asking for a lot more than he normally does: every natural feature the universe has to give, enough room for those he loves, every barrier to keep out those he does not, and enough power to administer justice as he sees fit.

the universe sings in eager delight. the voices twist closer, curious but skeptical. the starlit glimmer of their speech curls around him, staying just clear of the wishing seed he cradles between his hands.

now, hold on. the structures you seek are many. whose eyes will it be to appreciate them, even if they lie at the edges of the world, even if their gifts are not worth the trek taken?

mine, the player says.

the vast space you seek is heavy. whose shoulders will it be to hold the weight of it, when the world becomes too burdened to sustain its own place in the universe?

mine, the player says.

the protection you seek is unyielding. whose hand will it be to carve every permitted callsign into its most protected chambers, to tame the roaring blaze of its defense so that some may pass unharmed?

mine, the player says.

the power you seek is heady. whose body will it be to anchor the soul that must bear that responsibility, which will cave to the rebellion of the world against the will of its soul, if it must?

mine, the player says.

there is silence as the voices contemplate this. they drift away and draw near again, intelligible static moaning quietly from their unseen throats as they discuss amongst themselves. and then, at last, one addresses him again.

this is much to put on you and only you. but you have accepted this. do not forget.

you make this for the joy and laughter of your friends—this is easy to see, young dreamer. do not forget.

a server world is a world that serves. it will serve your friends. we will not tolerate anything less.

we will not tolerate oathbreaking. the world will not tolerate abuse.

you are its vassal.

you are its to punish.

dream says, i understand.

and the universe says, i love you, and the seed cupped in his palms pulses gently, and then fiercely, boldly, life blooming under the sworn promise of someone who will tend to it, and—all at once, the void is forced back. land shudders into existence in a rushing wave that reaches far and wide, and the core of it purrs to life into dream’s heart.

the wind whistles along the plains, laughing through the trees and their countless leaves. lakes lap gently at their shores at the base of mountains that stretch up to the sky, high and waiting.

and dream has his server. he inhales the sweet air and runs his fingers along the grass, curling his fingers along the soft petal of a flower and feels nothing but love and anticipation for what the server is and what it might become.

he lifts a hand and the protective borders of the world roar to him, walls of flame rushing past his senses before a shimmering white list coalesces before him. it is empty until he carves a few callsigns into it. just three, for now, but there is room for many more.

his friends arrive, after that. they play, and they relish, and they ask for more. who is dream to deny them, in a world meant to be theirs? he carves more names into the list. they arrive, they play, they ask. he carves more still, and then more, and more.

there is as much room as dream needs.

they skirmish and play-fight. it’s an easy thing, running rings around each other while shrieking for mercy or blood, building ugly things of wood and faith and cobblestone and friendship, playing pretend without a care in the world.

at least, it was easy, up until—

wilbur soot says, “this is a different server, independent of dream smp.” 

wilbur soot says, “you and yours are forbidden from stepping foot here.”

wilbur soot says, “this is l’manburg, and this is mine, and we will stand our ground.”

wilbur soot, whose father is the winged angel of death, who could nearly call the blood god his own family, whose bloodline is so entrenched in the dealings of voids and voices that he must know what dream had to do to turn a world seed into a haven of a server, this wilbur soot is the one who meets dream’s mask with a wide grin and an open taunt, daring him. mocking him.

and dream, remembering the responsibility he swore to take on as his own and no other’s, the word mine in echo through his soul, says, “no.”

and they war.

(you know this story.)

but it’s odd. it’s odd because after dream’s arrow sinks into tommy’s heart and dashes his soul against the rocks, he tastes ash in the back of his throat. it does not go away when he rinses his mouth out in the clear rivers of his land, nor when he gulps down a bucket of milk, nor when he bites into the cake his allies make to celebrate their victory.

the pastry melts on his tongue with what must be copious amounts of sugar, but he cannot tell that it is meant to be sweet.

dream tastes nothing but ash.

he laughs past it. there is an inkling of fear in his gut, but compared to the rib-shaking thunder of his heart when he’s low on health on a manhunt, it is easy enough to overlook. especially when tommy comes to him.

tommy offers a trade and dream is intrigued enough to accept. he figures that if tommy was willing to give up his most treasured items for this, for what is little more than a name and an toothless claim, then maybe this nation deserves a... chance.

in name, at least. not true independence—no more than a flower can be independent of the land it is rooted in—but there is no need to overreach his control when he’s already proven that they cannot do anything to him and his.

he lets them play. that’s what this server is for, in the end.

(the end. that should’ve been the end, but it’s not.)

not long passes before the fake nation festering like an unwelcome cancerous growth on dream’s land suddenly wants to make itself realer than before. it turns words to action with an election that goes sideways at its peak and buckles under itself. by the close of the day, its new leader has driven out its founding members, lighting the fuse to its own destruction.

dream, overlooking the chaos of it all, sighs.

this nation will never be anything more than a mistake, it seems. whether it is l’manburg or manburg does not matter; it binds its population by excluding something else, and thus by definition is a sin against a world made to be shared.

in the aftermath, dream curls a little tighter around his family, but it’s too late. the first crack has already been made and everyone is all the more fragile for it.

when a few more decide to take leave of the heartland, they do not tell dream. he finds out by the empty houses and unfamiliar flags, and he...

they...

... it’s fine. they did not like the fighting, is all. of course they would rebrand and skirt the violence.

it does not mean abandonment, surely.

dream does not raise his sword against his inner circle, no matter where they place their allegiances. he instead focuses on the one he’s certain is rotten to the core, and he’ll sing l’manburg’s praises if it means that piece of land will finally stop inciting war after war after war.

“its name is l’manburg, not manburg,” he says in the dark ravine of pogtopia, and wilbur cheers and tommy raises a brow and dream feels sick to his stomach.

tommy mumbles something about carbon monoxide poisoning and complains about the smoke from all the torches and campfires and lanterns they use to light up the place. wilbur rebukes that they cannot ventilate the smoke without giving themselves away, and so they bicker, but it occurs to dream that he hadn’t noticed the difference.

the stale smoke-tinged air smells the same as the fresh winds outside.

he’s handed a baked potato as he leaves. he holds it to his face for a beat before tentatively biting into it.

ash. dust.

the lack of taste, he’s grown used to. but his sense of smell is gone now as well, and that inkling of fear strengthens.

he remembers what he promised to the voices. his body will cave to the rebellion of the world, should he stray from its intended purpose. but he has yet to break an oath or abuse his powers. he doesn’t understand.

is it the side he’s on?

if the server vies for him to join manburg, then of course he will flip sides for it. of course he does. he even conspires behind their backs, ensuring that if pogtopia wins l’manburg still does not win.

he was right to, because the day of reckoning comes with the failure of manburg’s leader.

he was wrong to, because dream’s fingers go numb on the handle of his axe when he brings it down on his rival’s shield, and the feeling never returns. something in his chest sours with frustration.

(something cracks, deep inside, ripping apart hairline fractures into something more serious, more troubling. his soul quakes. the universe wails, but nobody has touched the server’s End by law decree, and the void goes unseen.)

dream rips off his helmet and lets time run out the invisibility running through his veins. he yields to pogtopia’s glaring victory with ease, because it was never the nation he fought for but his responsibility to the land it sat on.

and because he still wins, in the end. the ground ruptures as a blast consumes the remnants of manburg, and yet even then dream is the last to move away from it.

he knew it was coming, but reacted last, and not only that but overbalances along the way. he nearly tips sapnap into line of fire when he meant to pull him free from it.

they laugh it off later, but. sapnap looks over his shoulder more often. dream does not meet his gaze, instead contemplating the ground and how he did not feel the rumble of the earth before it blew.

he needs to sort this out. so he goes to find an open field.

he spends hours and then days in that field, figuring out how much he needs to pull back a bow to loose it swiftly. how tightly does he need to hold a weapon before he cracks its hilt? how roughly can he handle his own armor before the thorns bite back at him?

(elsewhere, an entity realizes it can touch, and it does. it uses that touch to kill those who kill on its sacred lands. the rules of the world must be followed. it does not know anything else.)

later still, a mushroom house burns.

dream looks to the smoldering remains with something tight and knotted and insufficient between his ribs, and then he looks to george, upset by the loss but upset more by dream taking back his crown, and he says, “it’s to keep you safe.”

his words leave his mouth, and the world falls silent.

dream blinks.

it’s not silent. he knows this because he can still feel the flames that should be crackling behind them, because george’s jaw is moving, because sapnap is nodding in agreement.

but they are silent. the world is silent.

no, the world is not silent. the world louder than it has ever been in its rebellion and his body is caving to it as he promised it would, and dream—dream does not falter, despite the sudden knowledge that the server he raised loathes every step he takes. he does not stammer.

he repeats the words he cannot hear but knows have left his lips, turns, and leaves.

he does not look back. he does not know that sapnap is calling after him, that george pauses mid-turn, that among the vitriol thrown at his back there is also a worry and a question. but there is no way for him to know, not with the server itself in uproar, devastatingly loud in the utter silence it inflicts on him.

fear claws up his lungs and he breaks from a walk to a jog to an outright run, and he runs and keeps running past all the structures he knows and built until it just forest and land and silence. safe, far, and alone, he digs his hands into the grassy dirt and says is this not what you wanted? is this not what i swore to do?

why do you hate me?

selfish, his precious world accuses. it is not a sound because there is no sound he can hear, but it is a hiss in his marrow, a keening in his soul. selfish, selfish. you leap for control you oughtn’t take and will burn them for it.

they burned me first.

did they? what did they do but till the fertile land? speak. speak. what did they do but flourish as you bid them to, wished them to?

they took from me and would not return it and struck back when i came to them. you are mine. i raised you.

and did you not freely give? is that not the purpose this world serves? do not forget. do not forget. do not forget.

dream does not so much pull back from the foundations of the world so much as it throws him out with teeth bared in warning and talons pressing down over his ribs, the ever-fragile beat of his heart cowed in its cage. it is a thought rather than a feeling, thankfully; just as it is the force of an arrow nearly knocking him down that makes him aware of the two others sticking out from his shoulders, once he lifted his arm to see what it was that had bumped into him.

his blood trickles down his arms as he yanks out the arrows, unfeeling.

fine, he thinks.

and dream, creator and administrator and player who cares too much and brought too much on his own shoulders, takes the injured confused uncomprehending thing so soft in the back of his mind, and puts it out.

enough is enough. his world is his server is his, and it will be brought to heel. even if it does not want him, and he does not want it, it is his to raise or raze and he will not have this haven ruined at the hands of the clumsy and unknowing.

who do you love, he asks it bitterly, yanking a netherite axe out of the air.

all of you.

who do you love, he asks again, and this time he finds his own answer in the way the events churn around one person, one survivor, one person who moves the server with a word and turns it against itself with another and leads every storm that rages: tommy.

all of you.

if you will not be mine, he says, then you will be no one’s. and he knows that this is a dangerous line to walk, and he has seen wilbur walk it to its bloody, deadly end, but he has right where wilbur had only words and songs. dream made this server for a reason and he will not give that up.

so he walks back.

he walks back, and he thinks, sourly, that maybe this is a blessing. the world takes his senses but he is stronger without them, really. who has need of taste or smell on a battleground? he can fight better like this, unfeeling, unburdened by pain.

it is easier to talk over their protests when he cannot hear them to begin with.

“exile tommy,” he tells tubbo, carefully shaping the words on his tongue, “and i will forgive you.”

and tubbo sputters and tommy rages and the world claws at him from the inside out, no, no, why are you doing this, this is not what was wanted.

he is calm, because their words pass over him without ever reaching.

he is calm, because they’re running out of time, and they will agree to him or die failing to. night is coming; shadows fall over them.

and then:

—nothing.

(nothing?)

nothing.

dream blinks. the void stares back at him, unblinking, stars aswirl and dancing, and just as he realizes that maybe night hadn’t come and maybe the void is not rising around him and maybe it’s just that his last sense is failing and maybe the world has rejected him for the last time and maybe everything he swore to do thinks he’s broken them and—

the silence breaks.

why why why why did you break what you swore was yours to uphold why did you lie why do you hurt and abuse and break. you were warned. you were told.

i didn’t.

you did. a server serves and you got in the way. do you not do this for your friends. why give them a beach to build on if you’re only going to punish them for using what they have. why. why why why.

... ,,uhhh honestly i don’t. know where this would go from here but because dream gets stopped early he still gets a chance to be better. the exile arc doesnt happen because dream just like collapses mid-negotiations lmao and even tommy feels kinda weird about stabbing him while he’s unresponsive. but i think i would like for the conclusion to be something like—

the universe says, i love you.

the world says, i love you more.

but it’s the the players holding him to their chests, hearts thumping in syncopation, tugging him from the brink of an edge that might have killed his love in a month’s time, who say, “i love you most. come back to us. come back.”

[your-turn-to-role]

Hi there! I'm not a d&d player so often mechanics confuse me and you seem to be very knowledable. So I have a question concerning Allura's Staff of Power. So when Liam switches it with stone of fortitude and drops to 80 something hit points, I thought that it was rather significant drop. Especially when enemies can deal like 70 damage on one round. Or what if he switched it with his other two items? What do you think would be best for Caleb? Because the staff seems to be really great.

the staff is very good, yes!

not sure if you've looked it up or not but to put it simply, it basically makes everything caleb can already do more powerful, and also allows him some extra protection!

so, first off, what the ioun stone was doing is increasing his constitution modifier by one point. con is important because it's what he uses to keep concentration on his spells, as well as adding to your hit points (since you calculate hit points by adding every dice you've rolled to your con mod multiplied by your level. and this is a fluid number, it's always equal to that equation, change any part of it and the total changes)

so when his con mod dropped from +3 to +2, he lost 1 con*his level, or 14 hp (from 101 to 87)

87 is kind of a scary number when most characters are in the 100s, but also, wizards are built to have low hp, they do a lot of damage from range, most classes have some kind of a weak spot to balance them out and the wizard's is that they're in a lot of danger if they're in melee

but also the staff helps with this too! it gives a blanket +2 to AC, which is a very powerful boost. caleb's AC right now is 15, because of the elven chainmail he's wearing. with the staff that increases to 17. and he also has the 1st level spell shield, which he can choose to cast whenever he gets hit, and that boosts his AC by 5 for the round. to summarise, with the staff's bonus, he's currently harder to hit than anyone else in the party, as long as he has spell slots (and it's very rare for a high level wizard to run out entirely)

makes up for the slight loss of health pretty well!

as to his other items, he's carrying the lucky stone and the ring of evasion

the ring means that three times a day, whenever he fails a (dex) saving throw, he can choose to succeed instead. the staff does give him a bonus to all his saves, but sometimes you still roll low and it's not enough. the ring of evasion negates that!

it's, a little up in the air whether you want real good dex or a little good all, but i don't think liam's ever gonna give up the ring, because he's a rogue at heart 😂

(rogues have a skill called evasion that when they succeed on a dex save, they can ignore the damage entirely, no matter how bad it is. his campaign one character, vax, avoided around 500 damage from the most powerful damaging spell in the game last time, simply because he was real good at dodging)

his lucky stone grants him a +1 on all ability checks and saving throws. now, it's worth noting, while he's holding the staff, he gets a +2 on saving throws. so that part's negated. his lucky stone at the moment is just giving him a plus one on ability checks. ability checks are all skills, initiative, and things like intelligence checks or strength checks. basically, any time in the game you try to do something that isn't attacking someone, you roll an ability check

this, is where it comes down to personal opinion. with the ioun stone, he's more durable. with the lucky stone, he's a little bit better at everything non combat he tries to do. if you're only looking at it battle wise, it's probably a better choice to ditch the lucky stone instead, and keep the ioun. but considering the way liam plays caleb, i think the health trade-off in exchange for being even better at all his useful skills, and a little bit faster in combat, is probably worth it to him

[fabricated-misslieness]

pairing: kaeya x gn reader

req: no | wc: 607 | cw: mentions of battle

a/n: so there are plenty of theories surrounding Kaeya’s eye (especially because of his Khaenri’an origins) but i’m just gonna go with plain old battle consequence

"Kaeya, can I see under your eyepatch?"

It’s a silly question, though only because it is quite unlikely that he will accept.

You’re spending the last few minutes of your evening with him before you inevitably have to prepare dinner together. The night is barely arriving, with the sky painted in magentas, reds and oranges. You watch the sun slowly slip behind far mountains and hide from your gaze, but as you ask your question, you turn to him.

The colors start bathing his skin with a cool shade, and under the melting sky, you find him more beautiful than ever.

"I would usually say no but…” Your lover lets out a low chuckle, cupping your cheek softly, “I guess I can make exceptions." With his other hand, he pulls the eyepatch over his head.

As your eyes land on his eye, the world seems to fade. His hold on your cheek feels ghostly and absent, as all you can focus on is his beauty. A scar drags over his smooth skin, splitting his eyebrow and ending right at the end of where his eyepatch would sit. It’s quite the long scar, making you wonder how you hadn’t spotted it before. His eye is colored deathly white and surely enough, he can barely see with it. Still, you can’t contain the low “Woah.” from escaping your lips.

He laughs, running a finger over your cheekbone. “What’s so awe striking?”

“You.” Tenderly, you reach a hand out to cup his chin. You don’t know why, but you reach out curiously to trace your thumb over his scar. “Do you have a story for this one?”

He had plenty of stories. Some were bluffs used to coerce information out of unsuspecting drunkards; some, like this next one, were true.

“Of course I do.” He smiles softly at your dopey look and clears his throat. “It’s kind of lame, though.”

“Nothing’s lame about the love of my life.”

“Sappy, but alright.” He snickers. “Well, one day…”

Around every corner of the battlefield, loud clangs were emitted: blades against shields, arrows missing their mark, and wooden clubs against metal armor. Very few vision bearers were on the knights’ side while among the groups of hilichurls were elemental beings, samachurls. They healed their allies while causing rain to fall, leaves to cover the knights’ vision, and tornadoes to knock their foes off their feet.

Hilichurls with their primitive clubs, at first glance, did not seem like very formidable foes. Except to men on the battlefield, regular soldiers without visions such as Kaeya, they were quite hard to deal with. They may be weak in health, but they had numbers and unprecedented reinforcements.

From afar, they seemed small. Face to face, however, hilichurls were about the same height as the average soldier.

Thankfully, no soldier had fallen. Although eventually, the record became no soldier except Kaeya.

Kaeya was not weak, instead, he was rather cocky. He led the battle at the front rows recklessly with no shield and no means of defense aside from a sword to parry with. Due to his careless nature and bold attitude, he made a fatal mistake.

“What was the mistake?” You ask curiously.

“Not telling you.” He pouts, “If I did tell you, your reaction would strike a hole in my ego.”

“I promise you, I won’t laugh or-”

“Nuh-uh!” He suddenly pulls away from you, swiftly sliding on his eyepatch. “Would you look at the time? The sky’s turned navy blue! Time to prepare dinner.” With a slight skip in his step, as if he was nervous to have his secret exposed, he heads back inside.

[soyeahitsmiddleearth]

Hello there! Can I request a Legolas x reader oneshot where the reader suffers from an injury, and Legolas being the best friend takes care of them? Fluff pleasee. Thankyou <3

Safe With Me

---

It happened during the Battle at Helms Deep. 

There was death, pain, anguish, and sorrow everywhere. No matter where you turned or where you looked, someone somewhere was suffering (either from the pain of death, grief, or fear). 

You've always been confident in your fighting skills; you know that you're good and can hold your own in a fight, but 'holding your own' paired with protecting others never seems to end well. 

Those fools thought it better to put weapons in the hands of children rather than the shield maidens who hide down below in the caverns, and though it does make sense that they would be the last line of defense, surely they could still spare some women instead of forcing the children to pick up their slack?

Even so, it's because of this decision that you're in your current state of injury. 

After the wall had been blown to bits and everyone began their retreat to the inner levels of Helms Deep, you tried to gather everyone you possibly could. 

Being as you're a rather skilled fighter, having trained from a very young age within the confines of Mirkwood, you managed to save a good deal of men and slay an excellent number of orcs, but there is a limit to your victories.

With each stroke of your short swords do orcs fall; every slash and stab reaching a mark that leaves the orc army with one less ally. Try as they might to overwhelm you, you're just too quick for them, so their blows remain useless for the most part (though you do get the occasional cuts and slices that leave you hissing in pain). 

You're in the midst of battling those nasty orcs 4 on 1 when it happens. Having been doing all you possibly could to keep the numbers off of the unskilled and dying men and young boys, you begin to focus more attention ahead than behind you, and one of those foul creatures manages to run up on you and finally get in a proper hit. 

The initial blow is easy for you to dodge, for you feel its' presence lingering behind you, but you quick duck prevents you from escaping the lower blow dealt to your right leg.

As soon as the blade makes contact with your calf you know you're done for. 

The deep slash causes your leg to give out from underneath you and you collapse to one knee, left crying out in shock and pain as your arms grow weak. 

Very vaguely do you hear someone yell your name, your sharp elf ears enhancing your hearing so that it may reach you, but you can't turn to look. 

In your downed state the enemy begins to overwhelm you, so you push your pain away and drop back as another blade comes swiping above your head, an action that would've taken your head with it had you not moved in time. 

You jab your sword up and impale the closest creature, muscles shaking and aching as it goes lax and slumps over towards you. 

Your energy wanes quickly, and the heavy, dead orc only further drains what little fight you have left in you. 

There is no time for you to reclaim your blade from the body of the dead monstrosity, so you're forced to release your beloved short sword and strategically roll away from the other oncoming attacks, and while it does prove to serve you well, you're now left injured and with only one of your weapons. 

The imbalance caused by losing one of your short swords is an alien feeling, for you always have both to fight with, and on rare occasions, neither. 

Another one of those dastardly abominations comes for you in when it sees your hasty retreat and weakening form and tries to stab you, but you role low to the ground and knock it off of its' feet, jabbing your remaining sword down into his belly as soon as he's at your level. 

Fighting so low to the ground, unable to stand is no easy task, and very quickly are you overtaken again. 

A large armored foot comes up and hits you right in the face, and you go down with it having been unable to react in time.

You fall back and land none too gently on your aching spine, and in mere moments is your left shoulder run through and pinned to the ground.

The unnatural feeling of the intruding weapon in your shoulder draws a pained cry from between your parted lips, and you find that you can no longer move that arm (if it were any bigger of a blade, you would've lost the arm altogether), so you rely on the other weaponed arm to stop the killing blow. 

With the last of your strength, you jab your sword upwards and stab it through the chest, relishing in the telling squelch and screech as metal and flesh alike are ripped to nothing, and then the wriggling creature stills and slumps heavily atop you. 

It's heavy and knocks the wind out of you completely, an unwelcome and suffocating feeling, and you'll later learn that this saves your life. 

Moments later, your world fades to black.

---

You were so sure that it was all over. That, while you tried your hardest, you failed. 

The last thing you remember was the horrible pain blooming from your shoulder and the blade protruding from your broken and battered body, and then the newly dead orc falling on top of you followed by complete and utter darkness. 

The bodies of man and orc alike littered the very ground you once stood on and the enemy was gaining more ground than you had to spare, so when you did finally wake up to see color again, you thought yourself to be dead just like all those around you. 

Only, you didn't quite anticipate that the Halls of Mandos would allow you to feel the pain and anguish of your past life. 

A quick look around tells you that you are, in fact, not actually in Valinor, for one of the very first sights you see is that of a dim wooden ceiling and your body laid out of a bed of mans creation. 

Pain is the first thing you feel once the anesthetic of unconsciousness wears off, and it's quite the pain alright. 

A quiet, agonized groan puffs past your chapped lips and your teeth clench together in tandem with your soft whimpers.  

You try to sit up, slowly raising your upper body from the bed, when a fresh pang of pain shoots through your shoulder and pins you back down to the bed. 

Instead of trying to get up this time, you just angle your head down and analyze your shoulder wound.

It's at this moment that you realize that your outer layer has been removed (probably cut away), and you're left with nothing but the gauze wrapping your shoulder and a covering for your modesty.  

When you look further down you see that your cut up calf has been treated much the same, and the only missing layer is that single leg of your trousers. 

Your vision suddenly goes blurry and you're forced to squeeze your eyes shut again, but this time when they open, there is another presence in your line of sight. 

It takes a few seconds for you to recognize the person hovering above you, but as soon as you do a small smile up turns the corners of your lips.

"Legolas..." Uttering that single name takes quite a bit of energy from your already bone dry reservoir, but you don't regret it for even a moment. 

Those sparkling pools of blue shine with relief when your whispered speech reaches his ears, and as soon as he's there does he disappear from your immediate vision. 

"I thought you were never going to awaken." He breathes, leaning over you once again with a damp towel in hand this time. "Tell me, how is the pain?" 

The towel is most likely to keep you from overheating, though you can't feel any sort of cold or hot like other mortal beings, and you appreciate it greatly. 

Your voice is barely a whisper when you reply, and it makes his elven heart throb in his chest with many emotions. "Painful?" Truthfully, it's a rather intense suffering that makes it hard for you to even think straight, but you don't wish to worry him any more than you already have. "Nothing that I cannot handle, I believe."

"That look in your eyes betrays a different story." He counters softly, reaching down to graze your too-warm cheek gently. "I will have to change your dressings soon. But I'm not so sure you will want to be awake for that." 

An alluded to promise of pain much worse than what you currently suffer, something you seldom wish to experience, though it's not like you can just pass out on command. 

"I will have one of the healers prepare for you a sleeping elixir, should you agree to have it." 

"What of the others? Surely I am not the worst of the wounded. You should conserve what you can." The words leave you even though you don't necessarily want to abide by them, but you don't take it back either. If you could prevent pain from anyone else, then you would. There's no guarantee that you'll react promisingly to it any ways. 

"There is plenty to go around. Do not worry yourself over others for the time being and allow me to help you." Those words don't make you feel any better.

If there is an abundance, then that means there haven't been enough wounded to use it (and not from a lack of injury either). 

A moment of silence washes between the two of you, and then in that same delicate whisper of yours do you ask, "How many...?" 

Hesitation rears its' ugly head and morphs his pleasant stare into a sorrowful, crestfallen frown, and it promises you nothing good. 

"Too many. But we must worry about that later when you have regained your strength and replenished your health. Please, rest." His places his hand over yours, touch as soft and careful as a feather, and he says no more on the matter. "I shall-" 

"Please, don't leave." You plea before you can engage your filter, curling your fingers around the warmth of his own, "I cannot handle the solitude right now." 

He hesitates once more but does not require further prompting, for he takes the seat next to your bedside and sits down. "Then I will stay right here with you." 

Your head tilts to the side to look over at him and the smallest of smiles brightens your pale face, "Thank you, Legolas. You've always done well by me." 

"For you, my friend, I would do anything. This is nothing." 

You're in good hands being left in his charge, and this thought lulls you into a pleasant, painless sleep. 

[tigerkirby215]

5e Aphelios, the Weapon of the Faithful build (League of Legends)

(Artwork by Pan Chengwei. Made for Riot Games.)

(Shit meme by yours truly.)

Yes I hate Irelia so much I’m genuinely making an Aphelios build before her.

But I really don’t get the “Aphelios too confusing 200 years” memes. Don’t get me wrong his kit’s weird and certainly overtuned but it doesn’t take that long to figure out what his guns do. Calibrum has long range and fires a skill shot, Severum has lifesteal and attacks fast, Gravitum slows and roots, Infernum attacks in a cone for AoE damage, and Crescendum attacks very fast and creates a turret.

Just because I understand this does it mean I can play Aphelios? Fuck no. Did I learn all this from Legends of Runeterra by playing Labs with Aphelios? Yeah kinda. But all I’m saying is that if my stupid support-main ass can do midway decently as Aphelios on free-to-play rotation I really think the hype around him is overblown.

That’s enough hot takes from me. He’s the point where I list 5 goals for this build instead of 3 and make 200 years jokes.

GOALS

Calibrum - We’ll need a long-ranged weapon to harass our foes and pick them off when they try to run.

Severum - If enemies get too close or we get too low we’ll need a way to keep ourselves alive in a 1v1.

Gravitum - We’ll need to control our foes to always stay in an advantageous position.

Infernum - AoE damage is always useful to deal with crowds.

Crescendum - To take down the toughest of foes we’ll need to unleash all our firepower and even get our weapons to fir themselves.

Basically we need literally everything, all packed within 20 levels of D&D and 200 years of game design.

RACE

Aphelios is a human... but ellipsis means that another race makes more sense. Aphelios has his sister advising him wherever he goes in life, so to play two spirits in one a Kalashtar is a good choice! Your Wisdom score increases by 2 and your Charisma increases by 1. Alune’s Dual Mind grants you Advantage on Wisdom saving throws, and her Mental Discipline lets you resist Psychic damage. Alune also keeps you Severed from Dreams, meaning that you’re immune to spells that require you to dream (like the Dream spell) but not spells that require you to sleep (like Sleep.)

Aphelios doesn’t talk (unless you want him to) but Alune can make a Mind Link to speak telepathically with others! You can speak telepathically to any creature you can see that’s within a number of feet of you equal to 10 times your level. You don’t need to share a language with them, but they must be able to understand at least one language. You can also use your action to give that creature the ability to speak telepathically with you for 1 hour or until you end this effect as an action. To use this ability, the creature must be able to see you and must be within this trait’s range. You can only give this ability to only one person at a time however, as it ends when you give it to someone else. Oh and speaking of languages you know Common, Quori (which no one is going to have outside of Eberron lol), and one other language of your choice: Celestial probably makes the most sense but you can pick whatever you fancy.

ABILITY SCORES

15; CHARISMA - You’re a kpop pretty boy, because Aphelios has more guns than body types in League of Legends.

14; WISDOM - I mean you get advantage in Wisdom saves anyways: may as well make the skill good too?

13; DEXTERITY - You are a marksman but we aren’t really using DEX for combat. So in other words: something something Medium Armor.

12; CONSTITUTION - You are one of the squishiest ADCs in the game but you do have enough sustain to keep yourself alive.

10; INTELLIGENCE - You were trained spiritually, as opposed to academically. That being said Religion is an Intelligence skill for some reason.

8; STRENGTH - I mean look at Aphelios’ arms; kid’s a freaking twink.

BACKGROUND

Aphelios fights for him and his sister’s faith in the Lunari... bit unorthodox, but you’re certainly quite the devoted Acolyte. As an acolyte you get proficiency in Religion but I’d replace your proficiency in Insight with Medicine, which you’re probably used to after drinking so much poison. You also learn two languages that you won’t use because Aphelios is mute. (But yeah pick whatever you think will be useful and if you want to feel free to swap your languages for tools or something. A Herbalism Kit or Poisoner’s Kit actually works rather well given your favorite drink to keep close to your sister.)

Alune may be in the Shelter of the Faithful but you can return to the temple from time to time for solace. You and your adventuring companions can expect free healing and care at a temple, shrine, or other established location of Lunari faith (you have to provide any material components for spells though.) The Lunari will support you (but only you) at a modest lifestyle in the temples.

If you’re near your sister’s shrine you can ask the chosen Lunari priests for assistance, provided the assistance you ask for is not hazardous and you remain in good standing with your temple and your sister.

(Artwork by SixMoreVodka Studios. Made for Legends of Runeterra by Riot Games.)

THE BUILD

LEVEL 1 - SORCERER 1

Starting off as a Sorcerer for proficiency in CON saving throws lol, but also for proficiency in Arcana and the Insight skill we skipped from our background. But Sorcerers get to choose their subclass at level 1 and to get closer to the Aspects grab a touch of the Divine Soul. As a Weapon of the Faithful you are Favored by the Gods, letting you add 2d4 to a missed attack roll or saving throw once per Short or Long Rest for a touch of Alune’s guidance. I’m going to mention now that a death saving throw is technically a saving throw, and I mention it because your AC is 11 and your health is 7. Level 1 ADCs, am I right?

Anyways: Divine Souls get Divine Magic for one extra spell from the Cleric spell list: technically you’re supposed to take one of the ones they suggest to you but I’d recommend Guiding Bolt for Calibrum’s Q: a long ranged shot that lets you shoot the target more easily afterwards.

And of course being able to cast spells implies that you have Spellcasting! You can learn four cantrips from the Sorcerer or Cleric list which means you can grab Guidance for a bit more of your sister’s help. You can also grab Word of Radiance to attack everyone near you with Severum’s Q, Acid Splash for some AoE damage from Infernum (should it be doing fire damage? Yeah probably), and Light to see with your dumb Kalashtar eyes. You can also learn two leveled spells like Sanctuary to protect yourself or your allies as long as they act peacefully, and Ice Knife for a more ranged AoE blast from Infernum.

If you want you can grab Mage Armor or something because your AC and HP are kinda uhhhhhhhhhh... trash?

LEVEL 2 - WARLOCK 1

Hopefully you didn’t die as a level 1 Aphelios with 7 HP and 11 AC; we didn’t even get 200 years of damage yet! Warlocks get to choose their subclass at level 1 as well which means you can shape yourself as the Fiend the Solari see you as. Dark One’s Blessing grants you temporary hitpoints equal to your Charisma modifier plus your Warlock level whenever you slay a foe for Severum’s lifesteal and passive shield.

You also get Pact Magic, which is like regular Spellcasting but your spell slots are funny! You can learn two cantrips from the Warlock list like Eldritch Blast to blast while you eldritch, and Chill Touch for some Grievous Wounds. You can also learn two Warlock spells like Burning Hands from the Fiendlock list to blast your foes with Infernum, and Hex to mark your foe for death under the moon.

LEVEL 3 - WARLOCK 2

Second level Warlocks get access to Eldritch Invocations like Agonizing Blast to agonize your blasts, and Lance of Lethargy to slow your foes with Gravitum. You can also learn another Warlock spell like Unseen Servant for some extra sisterly help. I mean, you’re probably going to replace these all next level anyways.

LEVEL 4 - WARLOCK 3

Third level Warlocks can choose their Pact Boon and truthfully? Just about any of them work. Pact of the Blade would be the most “in-character” but your Strength and Dexterity are both kind of bad and you don’t need to use weapons. Pact of the Chain will let you personify Alune on your person and get a shitty version of Crescendum’s turret but Aphelios doesn’t have a pet. Pact of the Tome lets you get Aspect of the Moon which is funny in its own right and more cantrips are universally useful. And hell: even Pact of the Talisman is useful for your sister to lend her aid to someone else in the party. Basically this is an elaborate way for me to say that your Pact Boon doesn’t matter much for this build, as we won’t be using any of the abilities or invocations from your Pact Boon much. So pick what you think will be useful and fun and make your own Aphelios!

With that being said: you can also learn second level Warlock spells now! Shadow Blade will serve as Crescendum’s blade that you can throw at the enemy, but it is based on your DEX which is kind of... bad? Well at least you can replace Unseen Servant with Misty Step, because a summoner’s Flash is more useful than your sister’s unseen help.

LEVEL 5 - WARLOCK 4

Man isn’t it fun to wait until level 5 to not die when the enemy support breathes on you? That uneven Dexterity score was done so you could grab the Moderately Armored feat for +1 to your Dexterity and proficiency in Medium Armor and Shields. Grab both to get hit less, basically!

You can also learn another spell like Hold Person for Gravitum’s root. And another cantrip like Minor Illusion for your sister to summon some props that you can hide behind.

(Artwork by Jennifer Wuestling. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 6 - WARLOCK 5

Hey that Medium Armor doesn’t really fit your outfit: how about the Mask of Many Faces invocation to put on some skins?

Third level spells are also useful! Vampiric Touch will let you heal in close range by damaging your foes with Severum.

LEVEL 7 - WARLOCK 6

6th level Fiend Warlocks get more guidance from Alune. The Solari may call it the Dark One’s Own Luck but all it lets you do is add a d10 to an ability check or saving throw once per Short or Long Rest. I mean hey: if you want a load of saving throw insurance this plus Favored by the Gods basically means you’re adding +10 to a saving throw!

You can also learn another spell but the only ones I’d want have very expensive components. Basically I want a Tasha’s summoning spell for Crescendum’s turret, but you’re going to be replacing it with...

LEVEL 8 - WARLOCK 7

4th level Warlocks can learn Summon Aberration which is a little more than just a turret! You can choose between a Beholderkin turret, Slaad tank, or Star Spawned Aspect! I’m not going to go too deep into this spell as you can read up on it for yourself but the point is you’ve got some backup now!

Alternatively if you want I think your sis could use some friends: Banishment will send them up to the temple where they’ll have to sit around and chat peacefully with Alune. Or if they’re not from the plane you’re in they’ll just be sent home.

Oh and you can also get another Eldritch Invocation like Eldritch Spear to keep your range with Calibrum.

LEVEL 9 - WARLOCK 8

8th level Warlocks get another Ability Score Improvement: you should probably increase your Charisma for more damage and accuracy with your weapons.

Speaking of weapons Dimension Door will let you head back to fountain to buy more weapons, or get out of danger and in range to use your weapons.

(Artwork by SixMoreVodka Studios. Made for Legends of Runeterra by Riot Games.)

LEVEL 10 - SORCERER 2

We’ve gotten all of out basic auto attacks: now I want some of Aphelios’ finer abilities. Second level Sorcerers get a Font of Magic for Sorcery Points which currently do nothing other than let you get more spell slots. You can melt down your Warlock slots however to get more Sorcery points, which will be useful later.

And of course you can learn more spells, but we’re going to wait for...

LEVEL 11 - SORCERER 3

Third level Sorcerers can finally learn Metamagic to empower their spells! You can take Quickened Spell for some Attack Speed, or Seeking Spell for some armor penetration to deal with higher AC enemies.

You can also learn second level spells like Icingdeath’s Frost (UA soon to be in Fizban’s hopefully) to blast foes with Infernum then Gravitum, or Dragon’s Breath to blast Infernum all throughout the fight.

LEVEL 12 - SORCERER 4

Would be good to cap off that Charisma, so go ahead and do so with your ASI.

You can also learn another spell like Spiritual Weapon for a turret you can move around a bit, and a new cantrip like Mage Hand for your sister’s help reaching the top shelf.

(Artwork made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 13 - SORCERER 5

5th level Sorcerers can get some Magical Guidance from their sister to reroll ability checks, because she’s been reading up on Tasha’s Cauldron of Everything.

You can also learn a new spell like Fireball... I mean I really shouldn’t need to justify this. It’s Fireball. Blast them with Moonlight Vigil for a burst of Infernum’s fire!

LEVEL 14 - SORCERER 6

6th level Divine Soul Sorcerers can use their Sorcery Points for Empowered Healing... wait you have healing? Well whenever you or an ally within 5 feet of you rolls dice to heal from a spell, you can spend 1 sorcery point to reroll any number of those dice once, as long as you’re not incapacitated. This technically doesn’t work with Vampiric Touch (since that spell does damage and then heals you based on how much damage it deals) but if your support heals you or a nearby ally there’s no reason not to give them an extra pick-me-up!

You can also learn another spell but I’m going to hop back to second level real quick for Mirror Image. It perhaps doesn’t fit as well (which is why I didn’t take it until now) but it’s very good to keep yourself alive, and as a squishy Lunari boy it’ll be very helpful to make it harder for the enemy to hit you.

LEVEL 15 - SORCERER 7

7th level Sorcerers can learn 4th level spells like Guardian of Faith for a turret that actually stands still! It shoots at anyone who comes close, and when it runs out of ammo it disappears. But what’s cool about this spell is that it lasts for 8 hours, which is plenty of time to rest through the night while your sister watches over you.

LEVEL 16 - SORCERER 8

8th level Sorcerers get another Ability Score Improvement or Feat: seeing as you’re mostly casting War Caster would be a good pickup to keep your Concentration with your bad Constitution and also hit those who come too close with magic. Or you could just get better Constitution maybe since it’s a bit late for War Caster tbh...

You can also learn another spell like Death Ward, for a Guardian Angel that you’re probably going to need seeing as you still have less than a hundred health.

(Artwork by Francis Tneh and West Studios. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 17 - SORCERER 9

9th level Sorcerers can learn 5th level spells like Teleportation Circle to recall back to base or to your sister’s temple. If you know the sequence of sigils to go back to a teleportation circle you can use this spell to link yourself back to it. You can also create a new circle over the course of a year. (And by spending a lot of gold.)

Basically this is my way of saying that we got all we wanted after level 16 tbh and I’m kinda just going through the motions of grabbing your last few levels.

LEVEL 18 - SORCERER 10

10th level Sorcerers get their third Metamagic option! Hurrah! By this point you have enough spells that force saving throws that Heightened Spell is a good option to make it a lot harder for your opponents to resist 200 years of magic!

You can also learn another 5th level spell like Hold Monster for Gravitum’s root against a ganking Fiddlesticks. And another cantrip: I somehow didn’t take Prestidigitation until now, so grab it for all sorts of basic Lunari magic.

LEVEL 19 - SORCERER 11

11th level Sorcerers can learn a 6th level spell! This is going to be your final, highest level spell; your ultimate ability! And I’d consider an ultimate from a fed Aphelios to be a Circle of Death. It’s a huge AoE that does a lot of damage: a simple nuke for a simple ADC that isn’t remotely confusing.

LEVEL 20 - SORCERER 12

12th level Sorcerers get one last Ability Score Improvement or Feat... I’m going to be honest: this doesn’t fit Aphelios but you likely have around 100 HP. Do yourself a favor and grab the Tough feat for 40 extra health.

FINAL BUILD

PROS

For every phase, a weapon - Wow who would’ve guessed building for versatility makes you versatile? You have a huge variety of spells for just about any occasion: AoEs to deal with crowds, single-target spells to take down big foes, crowd control to keep enemies in place, summons to keep enemies targeting them instead of your allies, and of course more than enough damage to shake a stick at.

In your hand; from my heart - Sorcery points also give you plenty of flexibility, notably in your ability to greatly increase damage output thanks to Quickened Spell on Eldritch Blasts and Seeking Spell to reroll missed Eldritch Blasts. But being able to turn your Warlock slots into ammo for your more useful guns is extremely useful and allows you to better adapt to various situations.

I am with you... shining above - Medium armor goes quite a long way! A Breastplate and Shield gives you a solid 18 AC, and if you’re willing to have Stealth Disadvantage upgrading to Half Plate gives you a respectable 19 AC!

CONS

You make yourself a weapon, so you do not have to feel - Skill proficiencies are reserved for those who don’t spend 200 years on damage. You have two skills from your background and two from your class and none of them are particularly great. Sure your Insight and Medicine skills are fine enough but you’re going to be beaten in Arcana by a Wizard and Religion by a Cleric also a Wizard, because Religion is an Intelligence skill for some reason.

Your life upon the altar, brother... - Even with the Tough feat your health is extremely poor. d6 hit die hurt and anyone with Power Word Kill can easily execute you. While I did give you good Wisdom for roleplay’s sake you could (and probably should) opt for Constitution instead.

An omen in your grasp - Your low health is kind of a problem when a lot of your spells force you into close range. There are ways to use spells like Burning Hands, Dragon’s Breath, Shadow Blade, and Vampiric Touch without getting too close (those methods being the Distant Spell Metamagic which we didn’t take; you could totally replace Seeking Spell if you wanted though) but Severum and Infernum are balanced around their low range. There’s no reason you can’t throw balance out the window to take spells that will likely be more useful.

But you are a weapon, sworn to carry your faith and show the world the light in the darkness. Your task is to slay those that deny the right of your people before they even know you are there... Sure confusing them as to what you are even doing is also effective, and I guess it doesn’t matter if your abilities make sense if they’re all dead. They’ll have 200 years to figure out how you killed them: I’m sure that’s plenty of time to read your ability descriptions.

(Artwork by @NAOMM29 on Twitter.)

[ibijau]

chap 4 of the modern xisangyao, also on AO3

Meng Yao faces his past and his future

Meng Yao screams upon seeing the face of those two intruders, and nearly stabs himself in the cheek with his tiny knife as he brings up his hands to cover his mouth.

He knows these men.

They killed him, once.

The one in blue chopped off his arm.

That one in red destroyed his reputation, exposed the darker sides of him for all to see, leaving him no choice but to die.

And Lan Xichen, of course, dealt the fatal blow.

Three men in this desolate house with him. Three murderers. Or is it really three? After all, none of this would have happened without…

Meng Yao, who refuses to fall to his knees like Lan Xichen out of sheer pride, sobs. He doesn’t know when, exactly, he started crying. But his face is now wet with tears and snot under his hands and his breath fogs up the blade of his knife. He hasn’t cried like this since his mother died.

In every life he’s lived, she has died too early.

A curse bound to repeat itself, a punishment for everything Meng Yao ended up doing after she died in that first life, and the second, and the third, and…

Somewhere a thousand miles away, heavy footsteps climb up stairs two, three at a times, rushed and loud as they never are usually. Meng Yao can’t see through his tears, but he still knows it must be mister Shanzi. A suspicion confirmed when a moment later his employer speaks up, breathless from running up those stairs.

He never was an athletic man, mister Shanzi, not if he could avoid it.

“Don’t hurt him!” Mister Shanzi cries out, trying to run again, only to settle for stumbling along until he’s in front of Meng Yao.

It’s a surprise, and it’s not. Either way, it startles Meng Yao out of his tears. He blinks a few times, until his vision clears. Mister Shanzi is there, shielding him from the other three, arms spread wide as if to better protect him. Meng Yao can’t see his face, but he can imagine the fierce, determined expression on his employer’s face.

His fourth murderer, and yet now Meng Yao feels less scared at last.

The newcomers aren’t impressed with mister Shanzi. The man in white and blue, kneeling next to Lan Xichen, glares up at mister Shanzi. Meng Yao feels he should know his name. He knew it, once, but they haven’t met in many lifetimes.

“You didn’t say,” the man says coldly, eyes darting toward Lan Xichen, still prostrated on the floor, as if he’s remembering as much as Meng Yao does, and enjoys it as little. “You know how much I’ve tried to find…”

“I’ll buy you lunch, Wangji,” mister Shanzi cuts him. “Deal with your brother, I’m taking care of Meng Yao.”

Lan Wangji frowns at this answer.

That’s his name, Meng Yao recalls. Lan Wangji, the one who goes where the chaos is. And the other, then, is Wei Wuxian. Two parts of a whole. Meng Yao thinks he hated them, once. Even before they destroyed him, he hated them for their freedom, for their right to be careless, when he had to measure his every word, his every action. Or perhaps it is just that a part of him always knew they would kill him.

As Meng Yao tries to remember which came first between hatred and murder, he feels mister Shanzi reach for his hands. The knife is taken from him and put away on the nearest surface, which ought to scare him. He knows, though, that no weapon he might yield could protect him, should mister Shanzi have it in mind to murder him again. Meng Yao has never once been successful in defending himself against him.

With this certainty in mind, Meng Yao doesn’t resist as mister Shanzi pulls him away, back to the basement. This, too, reassures him. Mister Shanzi loves his paintings more than anything in the world, more than scamming powerful assholes and overconfident idiots. If he had to kill Meng Yao, mister Shanzi wouldn't do it somewhere that would taint his precious art.

Once they reach the workshop, mister Shanzi gently brings Meng Yao inside and invites him to take the chair while he closes the door, locking it behind them. This too should scare Meng Yao. It doesn’t.

“How are you feeling?” mister Shanzi asks, coming closer but stopping at few steps away from Meng Yao. Giving him space, so he can feel safe. “How much do you remember?”

“I remember dying because of you,” Meng Yao says, falling onto the chair which rolls away from his employer. 

Mister Shanzi is unphased, his face showing only polite interest, the way he does when meeting sellers and buyers. With him dressed like this, the neutral expression feels wrong. Funny, almost. Meng Yao would laugh, if he remembered how.

“You killed me several times,” Meng Yao says. It should make him angry. When he looked at Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, he felt unfathomable rage over what they did to him even if he doesn’t understand what, exactly, it is that they did. They only killed him once, though. But mister Shanzi, who he can remember towering over him, holding a blade wet with his blood… “You also saved me, didn’t you?”

Mister Shanzi smiles, if you can call it that.

“I had to find a new way of dealing with you,” he casually admits. “After the first few times, killing you wasn’t as fun anymore.”

“I was a child the last time you killed me,” Meng Yao protests, and maybe there is some anger to be felt over that. He was just a child that one time.

A toddler really, playing in the street with other kids, Meng Yao suddenly remembers. His mother hadn’t quite died yet in that life, but her health had been declining, so he’d been left to his own devices too often. Someone had offered him sweets and he’d been too young to know he should refuse.

He hadn't even gotten those candies before getting his throat slit.

“It was a low point for me,” mister Shanzi admits with a shiver. “At that time, I was... You see, you had killed my brother in the first life in which we met, and in a truly horrible manner too,” he explains, and Meng Yao nods. It rings a bell. A corpse butchered, a melody... “and since he had never reincarnated, I didn’t see why you should get to. I’d always found you as an adult before that, and it was easy to find some failings of yours to excuse killing you. A child though…” He grimaces in disgust, looks down as his hands as if they're still stained with the warm blood of a three years old. “After that, I started reconsidering the way I was doing things. My brother had believed you were worth giving several chances, once, so I thought I’d honour his memory and do the same.”

“I suppose I should be grateful?” Meng Yao asks. “Just as I was supposed to be grateful toward Mingjue.”

Hearing his brother’s name makes mister Shanzi jump. But he’s not mister Shanzi, Meng Yao realises. That was never his true name.

“You’re Nie Huaisang,” Meng Yao says, mostly to himself. “You’re… after so long, and you’re still doing all this for him. I’d murdered the wrong brother, back then.”

Realising what he just said, Meng Yao tenses and throws Nie Huaisang a sharp glance, terrified that he might lash out at the reminder of that crime which has entangled their fates through centuries.

Nie Huaisang turns away, curling up on himself, shoulders shaking. Meng Yao braces himself for an attack, verbal or physical, but instead after a moment Nie Huaisang bursts out laughing, loud and unrestrained.

“Every time!” Nie Huaisang giggles. “Every damn time, you end up saying that! And every time I say that…”

“Da-ge would have been just as fierce in avenging you, so there was no right brother to kill, no right brother to spare,” Meng Yao finishes in a whisper. “I’m not saying that I want to kill you now,” he quickly adds. “I don’t. Not after what I owe you.”

Of course in that very first life, he owed Nie Mingjue, and that hadn’t stopped him. Meng Yao can feel the reek of the terror he’d felt then, stuck between a rock and a hard place, certain he didn’t have a choice. Perhaps he didn’t. Those were different times, and he had promised his mother to be a good son so his father would give him the status he deserved. So she hadn't suffered in vain when raising him.

Meng Yao had tried to be a good son, which had turned him into a poor friend. Not to Nie Mingjue exactly. They weren’t friends anymore by then. But to Lan Xichen, who had suffered first the loss of Nie Mingjue, and then years later the horror of having helped it happen.

And then Lan Xichen had killed him.

Maybe he hadn't been a very good friend either.

“I’m really sorry for this,” Nie Huaisang says. “You’ve always remembered, whenever I’ve taken you in, but it’s never been quite so fast and brutally. And it’s the first time that…”

He trails off, looking over his shoulder toward the door with a mix of dread and longing.

“Lan Xichen,” Meng Yao guesses.

“Lan Xichen,” Nie Huaisang agrees, before chuckling sadly. “Did you… does he… did he know before coming here, or…”

Meng Yao thinks on it, and shakes his head. He might be deluding himself, but he doesn’t believe Lan Xichen knew, not until they arrived to the Hanshi, not until he saw Nie Huaisang, not until he was confronted by his own brother. It took both of them by surprise.

Meng Yao wants to ask about Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian, but doesn’t. It’s not necessary, he realises. Having been in their presence, he can guess that they are more like Nie Huaisang than like him or Lan Xichen. There is just something about those people who no longer die that sets them apart from ordinary humans, even at first glance.

“He was just here about the painting,” Meng Yao explains. “He’s writing a book on… well, on you, I guess.”

The expression on Nie Huaisang’s face is a complicated one, equal part regret and relief.

“Wangji had been looking for him,” he says. “Quite desperately. Well, he found him now, good for him. As for myself, I don’t think I should… well. Well. It doesn’t matter. Lan Xichen made it clear once how he thinks of me, and I know better than to impose myself where I am unwanted. I’ll just disappear for a while, make sure we don’t run into each other. The antics scene was getting a little bothersome anyway. Damn technology, ruining my life. I’ll have to find something else to keep me busy. I guess I’ll have to leave this house, too.”

As he speaks of abandoning the Hanshi, Nie Huaisang looks truly sad. Almost in spite of himself he raises a hand to touch the nearest wall, brushing his fingertips against it as one would a lover.

He's owned this house most of his life, he once told Meng Yao. At the time, Meng Yao had thought his employer had bought it young, or inherited it somehow, meaning he’d lived there for maybe twenty years.

He wonders how long “most of his life” really means.

“Am I fired?” Meng Yao asks instead. A more practical question, and one to which he’s more likely to get an answer.

“Fired?”

“I… I betrayed you. I took someone here without your knowledge.”

Nie Huaisang blinks a few times, then laughs softly and comes to kneel before the chair, taking Meng Yao's hand. His skin his warm, his touch grounding, and Meng Yao, stupidly, wants him to never let go.

“Oh, A-Yao,” Ni Huaisang sighs, squeezing his hand. “Neither of us would ever know how to refuse Lan Xichen anything that he asks. How could I blame you for this? No, you’re not fired.”

Meng Yao lets out a deep exhale.

“I still can’t keep you around anymore,” Nie Huaisang adds, tilting his head slightly. It makes him look like a curious bird. He’d like the comparison, Meng Yao thinks in a panicked effort to not delve on what his former employer just said.

“I won’t betray you again,” he promises, grasping Nie Huaisang's hand tightly, as if that could keep him here.

“If Lan Xichen asks, you will. I don’t think he’ll ask, mind you,” Nie Huaisang says with a smile. “I haven’t seen him since that first life we all shared, and we didn’t part on good terms. You wouldn’t know, you were dead already, but I… well. He did not take kindly to being used as my weapon to kill you, to put it mildly. And now you’re in love with him again, in a world where… well, it’s easier to love him these days, isn’t it?”

“I’m not in love,” Meng Yao says, but the protest sounds hollow as it leaves his lips.

If he’s not in love with Lan Xichen, he’s more than halfway there already. Why else would he have betrayed Nie Huaisang, whom he does love, in spite of how stupid it is? Even without realising exactly what 'mister Shanzi' was, Meng Yao could tell there was something off about the man, something unnatural and dangerous. He's an idiot, though, and loved him all the more for it.

“I’m not in love just with him,” Meng Yao corrects, which startles Nie Huaisang. Good. Meng Yao isn’t quite as cruel as he was in that first life or some of the following ones, but he wouldn’t call himself kind either. If he must suffer, why shouldn’t others do too? “Take me with you. Wherever you’re going, take me with you.”

“No.”

“Do you really think Lan Xichen would still have anything to do with me, now that he remembers?” Meng Yao insists, rising from the chair. Nie Huaisang lets go of his hand and stands up as well, takes a few steps back as if putting distance between them will do anything. “It’s pointless to leave me behind. Take me with you.”

“No. You’re mortal,” Nie Huaisang sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You… I’m not doing that. I’m not involving myself with a mortal. I’ve seen what it does to people like me. I won’t… I can’t allow anything to destroy me like that. Not until I’ve found da-ge again, not until I’ve seen him safe and happy.”

Meng Yao nods, because he understands, because he’d give everything for a chance to see his mother again, would sacrifice anything just to make sure she’s happy. And still, he says again: “Take me with you.”

“No.”

“You’ll need an assistant. You need one. You're useless on your own. You suck at keeping track of appointments, and you still haven’t figured out social media, and… just that, just your assistant.”

“No.”

“I can keep things compartmentalised.”

“I can’t,” Nie Huaisang snaps. “I… I would have let you go soon, anyway,” he adds, more quietly, as if confessing a terrible secret. “You are… I got attached, more than planned. You’re good, in this life. I think the world is finally changing enough to allow you to exist and you’re… but it doesn’t matter. I was always going to let you go, it’s just happening sooner than I’d planned.”

“So I am fired.”

Nie Huaisang grimaces. For a moment, just a second, he looks exactly as old as he is. There’s an exhaustion in his eyes, so deep and ancient it is almost frightening to behold. Centuries after centuries of looking for the same person, of never finding him, of meeting instead his brother's murderer over and over and over again.

“You’re not fired,” Nie Huaisang tiredly insist. “I’m going to continue paying you until you find another job, and I’ll make sure the right people know you’re on the market again, if you want to stay in that line of work. I also don’t mind paying for any school you like. I’ll write you letters of recommendation, I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you’re good even without me, but… but after today you won’t see me again. I just can’t risk it.”

“And if you found your brother again,” Meng Yao suggests, because unlike Nie Huaisang he’s good with new technology. If Nie Mingjue is alive somewhere, he can find him. He will find him. It can’t be a coincidence that Lan Xichen and him met like that, so maybe…

Nie Huaisang shrugs, and shakes his head.

“I’ll never stop looking for him. But I don’t think he’s coming back. I think the damage to his soul was too great, and it was just the end for him. I’ve got to keep looking, but I think there’s nothing to find. So I won’t make promises to you, Meng Yao. I’ll have that decency, at least.”

It’s funny, Meng Yao thinks, how little Nie Huaisang has changed since that first life. 

By which he means, Nie Huaisang is still the same dramatic asshole as he used to be, still so wrapped in his own problems that he doesn’t really care about the effect his decisions have on others, because he’s a Nie so of course he’s always right.

It used to drive Meng Yao grazy, in that first life, when he thought all Nie Huaisang had going for him was a good inheritance and a pretty face.

It still drives him crazy right now, when he knows Nie Huaisang is perfectly capable of being more than this, should he feel like it.

Before Meng Yao can insist, there is a knock on the door. They both startle, having half forgotten there are others with them in that house. Nie Huaisang looks panicked for a moment, but quickly gets himself under control. He probably guesses, as Meng Yao does, that it cannot be Lan Xichen, who surely would never reach out to either of them.

That guess turns out to be right. When Nie Huaisang goes to open the door, he finds Wei Wuxian there, who looks… not quite angry as such, but ready to be pushed there if anyone says the wrong thing.

“You still want us to take you away?” Wei Wuxian asks.

Nie Huaisang nods quickly, than shakes his head, looking up at the ceiling.

“Zewu-Jun can’t… If he's coming too...”

“He needs time to digest, and he says that one…” Wei Wuxian nods toward Meng Yao, who flinches on instinct “...called him a taxi, so he’ll make his own way home. Lots to think about. Did you fucking know, Huaisang?”

“Not until today, and I called you right away. You think I wouldn’t have told you, if I’d known? You think I’d have gone anywhere near him by choice?”

Wei Wuxian shrugs, in a manner that seems to imply he doesn’t really know what Nie Huaisang might do about anything.

“What about that one?” Wei Wuxian asks, nodding again toward Meng Yao.

Nie Huaisang shrugs. “He has his car. Wei-xiong, I just want to leave now. Please.”

They do leave. Wei Wuxian glances one last time at Meng Yao, but Nie Huaisang doesn’t look back as he exits the room.

Just like that, Meng Yao finds himself alone, with only paintings and a broken game console for company.

He allows himself a moment of sorrow because, and he can admit this to himself now that it no longer matters, he’d been hoping to spend the rest of his life with either Lan Xichen or Nie Huaisang. Both, if fate chose to be kind to him.

Fate has never chosen kindness, when it comes to him.

So Meng Yao dries his tears, and picks up that shattered console on the floor.

The paintings in this room are worthless to him. Over half are fakes, and even Nie Huaisang, who painted them, doesn’t always recognises just from looking what’s real and what’s not. But the console… well, there’s a guy who lives in Meng Yao’s building who’s made a business of buying broken electronics and either repairing them or scavenging them for parts.

Maybe Nie Huaisang really will continue paying him, or maybe he won’t, but Meng Yao hasn’t gotten where he is in life by counting on the kindness of others.

He’ll sell the console when he gets home.

[priscilla9993]

Killian Jones and Alcoholism

This is mainly a summary of things relating Killian/Hook to alcohol/rum. It was done for a college paper and is very long, therefore it’s under the break. To warn you, it is going to be mainly Wish Hook based since I needed to narrow it down and it was easier to show how he handled alcohol as a recovering alcoholic. Enjoy!

The character in question for this case study is Killian Jones, well known by his more colorful moniker of Captain Hook, as portrayed from the ABC TV show Once Upon A Time. He lives in a region of a fantasy realm known as the Enchanted Forest. He used to be a Royal Navy Lieutenant with his older brother Liam, straight-laced on being good and not getting into trouble in any way, especially after getting somewhere in life and no longer subjected to being an indentured deckhand like when their father abandoned them as kids. During a daring quest to Neverland to find some medicine for the king, Peter Pan said they had been tricked to bring back a poisonous plant called Dreamshade, meant to be used as a weapon against unsuspecting enemies. Killian was wary, ready to denounce his service to the king, but his brother was willing to have faith in a noble king and country. With one swift motion of the plant’s prick hoping to prove otherwise, Liam began dying and realized his mistake. Recruiting the help of Pan and some magical water, Liam was cured but soon died in Killian’s arms on the voyage back to the king, the price of the magic being death if Liam ever left Neverland with the water running through his veins. His brother’s death made Killian vengeful at his king and country as his brother had been noble until the very end and everyone else was corrupt, playing noble, proving to him that the world was at fault. From that day on, he took over the ship and decided to be a pirate named Captain Jones, pursuing freedom, and throwing away all he’s ever known because being noble didn’t serve justice. This starts his life of thievery, promiscuity, and never-ending drinking. His coping solutions to deal with his emotional pain only gets worse when he loses his hand, first love of his life, Milah, and his honor after losing a duel against Rumplestiltskin, a coward turned into a powerful Dark One; which leads him on a path of revenge to kill the Rumplestiltskin, “the crocodile”, to avenge Milah and his pride. This leads him to makeshift a hook for a hand and him going by the nickname of Captain Hook, leaving the last piece of his past behind and never letting himself be vulnerable again.

Throughout the series, whenever he or someone in his vicinity is having a rough time, his solution is to pour out some alcohol and drink his feelings away, acting like an egotistical flirt rather than expressing himself and wallowing in misery. His choice of alcohol happens to be rum, a hard liquor. The acute symptoms he has in the show are the loss of judgment, a reddened face, confusion, potentially heightened sexual desire, and sometimes blackouts/unconsciousness. There are multiple times where he’s in a tavern, pouring doubloons into drinks for his crew, rum for himself, and flirting with women/barmaids to have a nightcap with. From here on, I will refer to him as Hook unless stated otherwise. On one occasion of his usual proclivities displaying or implying such symptoms, Hook tries to seduce a woman named Emma. She manages to use his habit of drinking to her advantage, making him jolly and willing to take her back to his ship for the said nightcap; her actual objective was being a distraction while his future self did recon for info on how to get back to their timeline in a Back to the Future sort of way. He continues heavily drinking on the way back with Emma without a care for his health. As soon as the plan goes awry with Hook seeing double, Emma not realizing Future Hook was still doing recon, he gets knocked out for good measure and partial jealousy. Future Hook justifies this, saying his past self was “asking to be knocked out, will wake up upset, and blame the rum.” The lines construe how frequent the drinking was for his future self to determine Hook’s ill-mannered disposition while drunk. 

Eventually, in a parallel way that stems from drunk Hook, is a feeble and spent pirate coined as “Wish Hook”. I have and will be focusing on this iteration for the whole of the paper, but what was written before was his younger self’s background. Wish Hook is the same guy as Hook, but years older down the line, differing paths from Future Hook as he never found love again with someone like Emma and had let his grief and alcohol from more recent negative events consume him. Wish Hook had lived out most of his lifespan, having been a sober father, but cursed to be poisoned any time he drew near his daughter after a witch encounter. Haunted by his regrets and somber circumstances, he turned back to an alcoholic, spending his days eased by rum. His body and actions in this form show the physical and mental effects of chronic alcohol consumption. About ten years or less had passed between his younger self and he had become an experienced middle-aged man with a complicated history, yet he looked far older than his years and decrepit. Without a doubt, by looking at him, people could assume he was an old drunk, his liver and heart having gotten fatty and overworked from the alcohol catching up to him. His belly was rotund, his hair disheveled and gray with streaks of white, his stance crumbling to nearly falling over with each step, and clothes dirtied with filth and old rum stains. Wish Hook still had a flirty and dramatic personality to cheer himself up and mask his turmoil, rum making him courageous and numb, while his actions told another story. He didn’t have sexual desires or try to provoke anyone by that point, just wanted to drown himself in alcohol. His words typically came out slurred, his movements sluggish and unrefined, and he had low problem-solving skills when it came to formulating a plan based on anything other than motive.

In the Enchanted Forest, alcohol like rum is not hard to come by as long as money is involved. Killian Jones/Captain Hook as a pirate drinking rum all the time did not affect him negatively socially or career-wise. If anything, it boosted his status and reputation. For him to be mingling in bars asking for expensive hard liquor and fine women to spend time with was a pleasantry. Bar owners got money, the crew got free alcohol, the women got paid, and he got to immerse himself in pleasure rather than thinking about trivial or serious things. Hook was the life of the party as a pirate captain, seen as a person with good tastes and great to have a fun time with when it came to alcohol. However, when it came to settling down and being a father later on in his life, Wish Hook reserved himself back to his more vulnerable side, caring about how his alcoholism could affect his parenting or child’s perspective. There are moments like that where he’s introspective and wants to do better by others that look up to him or who he cares about. In the show, when he is parenting, there is never a time where he has a bottle or flask of rum stashed nearby or is drinking. Wish Hook deems alcohol as the problem when it affects his judgment or his perceptions on how he could hurt the way people he loves view him. Love in any form brings him back to his core of being the best person he can be.

Killian Jones’s problem originates in nurture rather than nature because his alcohol problems started after he needed a reliable coping mechanism to lean on to deal with grief and anger. Although both nature and nurture influence him, for argument’s sake, nurture has the upper hand. Growing up, his father was a person he looked up to and wanted to be like, but that changed when he found out his father was a criminal who sold him and Liam to pay a route for a selfish escape. What little of his parents shown on-screen left betrayal or sadness in him, not the desire to drink. His parents weren’t clear on alcoholics or drug users as far as it goes. The only things he inherited from nature were probably his mischievous personality, temper, looks, and a high tolerance for alcohol. Living on a ship and being a poor deckhand, Killian didn’t seem to be the kind of guy to squander his savings on alcohol or other frivolous means. However, he would be on a ship constantly surrounded by adults who drank with a captain who cared more about money rather than morals, feeling squandered by his oppressed freedom and building resentment for authority. Without his brother steering him on track, Killian was no more than a young man with impulsive rebellious nature. When Liam went to get them navy papers to earn them their freedom from Captain Silver, it took Killian an offer of temptations from Silver, as much alcohol as he could drink and a bet on his money, for him to fall hook, line, and sinker; no pun intended. Alcohol and gambling meant a reprieve from thoughts, a chance at earning more than what he had before, and the same social standing as the other men aboard the ship. Perhaps, as much as he wanted to be strong as his brother, one good force cannot shield against all of the negative parts of society and adulthood. From Captain Silver, Killian got his first taste of alcohol and his desires did the rest, leaving him blackout drunk and penniless for Liam to find. As he grew older and slowly became Captain Hook, there was nothing about pirate life, being an adult, or people to keep him from drinking. He needed people to talk to, who supported him and he could feel vulnerable in front of, but the few people he trusted in his life were dead. As anyone knows, pirates steal treasure, so they’re not exactly the forgiving or down-to-earth types. Instead, rum became the solution to drown or fuel his emotions, being the substance of celebration and de-stressor.  

Hook’s rum/alcohol addiction would fall more on the dependence spectrum rather than abuse. What had started as a small reprieve to the woes of life became a daily saving grace when he was wracked with loneliness or anger. He depended on the rum to mask his disposition of physical pain from his missing limb as well as emotional pain having experienced love and loss. Abusing alcohol meant that it would put him into dangerous scenarios, have little to no commitment to change his habits to improve his health, and he’d put off important social aspects. If it was alcohol abuse, Hook wouldn’t try changing his habits when he sees it affects others or his relationship with those he loves. Sure, he spends most of his life binge drinking and making merry with the tides of life, but when given the chance and support to abstain from alcohol, he takes it in a heartbeat. For Wish Hook, the thought of being a father who abandons his child or messes up under hazy judgment didn’t add up to him. With the birth of his daughter, Alice, he made a vow to stay with her as long as he could and to be the person he thought she could be proud of. Nevertheless, when he had lost purpose in life by something he had no control over (via death, distance, or curse), his first reaction was to either turn back to alcohol or solve his problems. Sadly, after he had spent a couple of years looking for a cure for his poison heart curse, he gave up hope and chose to go from sobriety back to alcoholism, into a form of regrettable self-destruction. Hook knew that it was not the way to go about life but he felt he had no other choice and had nothing left to lose, leading him to further prioritize and depend on rum to continue living. He built a tolerance to it, needing a copious amount to get drunk, and potentially suffering withdrawals from it after getting in too deep. From the state he was in by the time he gets old and portly, being a nearly homeless drunkard, it can be assumed that he spent most of his days looking for money to acquire more alcohol so he could feel okay.  

Finally, by the end of the series, Killian Jones had managed to go through all the stages in the Stages of Change Model. He was in the Precontemplation stage as a pirate and Captain Hook as he didn’t see a problem in his daily rum and alcohol festivities, making no commitment to change his ways. By the time he gets to be Wish Hook and becomes a father, hesitant about settling down, he could be in the Contemplation stage. He’d want to do something about his alcohol problem and not be stuck relying on it but doesn’t know how to go about it or why he should, therefore staying stagnant to change. When he has his daughter, Alice, in his arms for the first time, we see him in the Preparation stage, planning to give up his ship, sea life, status, and most importantly, rum. Hook gives himself time to think of why he would do so and how he’d commit to it, eventually telling his crew the news. By the time he is taking care of her, he has already taken the actions needed to wean himself off alcohol and apply himself towards abstinence, taking him through the Action and Maintenance stages. There is a relapse back to the Contemplation stage in the paragraph before when he becomes poisoned and loses hope. Even so, the silver lining is that he had made the hard journey back into the Maintenance stage with the help of Ariel detoxing him and others giving him a magical second chance of bodily time renewal, sparking the hope to reunite with Alice and find a cure for his poisoned heart.  

Plans go awry on this end as we get to his final iteration as he is teleported and cursed into our modern day and age as Detective Rogers. Although his memories of what happened in the past as this persona are fuzzy, he is shown to stick to his renewed alcohol abstinence and maintains that in many ways, just like when he was Wish Hook. His habits become integrated as a function rather than a hindrance as part of the Maintenance stage. As Rogers, we can see him frequent bars such as Roni’s or Flynn’s Barcade when he is invited out with others. He is shown to let others know what to get him, as a regular or not, something non-alcoholic. This usually shows up as sparkling water or regular water with a lemon slice in it. His friends and work partner continue to support his sobriety through friendly acceptance and never forcing him to drink alcohol along with them. Rogers is tempted by alcohol again when he believes a missing girl from a cold case, one he was responsible for since he was drinking on the night she went missing, is dead. He sits on a park bench alone grieving, a full bottle of rum next to him, ready to drink. As Rogers gives it a whiff, he is disgusted at himself for getting back to this state again and slams the bottle down on the bench in frustration, not even having taken a sip. He came too far that doing so again would be meaningless and would get him nowhere. Even though he is in situations full of temptation, he makes huge strides to not relapse and maintain his sobriety, with the hopes that it will eventually lead him back on the right path of happiness and belonging. Fortunately, his actions have positive consequences that ring true when the curse breaks and he gets reunited with his daughter and has the strong support of friends and family. In conclusion, Hook is a flawed human being that is more complex and his struggle with alcohol/rum is just a part of him, one he will never lose but continues living with.

[zosonils]

Crossover you say 👀

OKAY SO. SONIC COLOURS/MEGA MAN CROSSOVER

i don't have much in mind story wise, but i'm thinking it takes place under the same conditions as worlds collide, which i insist on believing also happened nearly identically offscreen in the game timeline because nobody can tell me otherwise. fairly basic setup of eggman and wily teaming up to cause problems on purpose and sonic and rock working together to stop them, and now there's wisps in the mix >:O i'm sure i could think up a fun excuse plot for why sonic colours happens twice and also mega man is here now, but mostly this was just an excuse to put the special interest in the hyperfixation and come up with some fun weapons for rock based on my first and favourite sonic game

each robot master is based on a wisp from either version of the original colours, which causes a little confusion given that you end up with two burst men and drill men but these ones have different EWN-XXX serial numbers and are entirely unrelated to their canon mega man counterparts. i haven't actually drawn the robot masters yet or thought up designs or personalities, just come up with their weapons and what stage they'd inhabit, but maybe i'll do that sometime. the robot masters are something like this

EWN-010 BURST MAN - weak to drill dash, gives bursting blaze, sweet mountain stage

EWN-011 ROCKET MAN - weak to cubic satellite, gives rocket jump, terminal velocity stage

EWN-012 DRILL MAN - weak to spike spin, gives drill dash, tropical resort stage

EWN-013 HOVER MAN - weak to rocket jump, gives hovering shockwave, starlight carnival stage

EWN-014 LASER MAN - weak to frenetic void, gives prism laser, aquarium park stage

EWN-015 CUBE MAN - weak to prism laser, gives cubic satellite, wii game land stage

EWN-016 VOID MAN - weak to bursting blaze, gives frenetic void, asteroid coaster stage

EWN-017 SPIKE MAN - weak to hovering shockwave, gives spike spin, planet wisp stage

i wrote up some really detailed information on how all the weapons work but i'll put that under a cut to prevent this post from getting too long! if you don't feel like reading massive paragraphs of game design ideas, here's the microsoft paint scribblings i did of all of them [sonic is there too]

BURSTING BLAZE

a chargeable attack that blasts out a sphere of fire to deal damage. charging it longer sends the fire out further and increases its damage output, but costs more weapon energy. without any charging it's a pretty standard low-range attack, but at maximum charge it functions as a screen nuke on par with the likes of rain flush, tornado blow, or astro crush. if rock takes damage while charging bursting blaze, he'll automatically release it at whatever charge level it was at when he got hit. in addition to the obvious usefulness of a fucking screen nuke, a less- or uncharged bursting blaze can be a handy way to quickly get some personal space in a tight situation.

cost: 1 unit when uncharged, 7 when fully charged [28 uses uncharged or 4 fully charged from a full gauge]. has five in-between charge levels costing 2, 3, 4, 5, and 6 units from least to most powerful.

i came up with this name first because i wanted it to have blaze in it because i fucking love blaze the cat.

ROCKET JUMP

an explosion that launches rock much higher than a normal jump would take him, about the height of one screen. in addition to the explosion at the bottom dealing damage, rock's body deals contact damage until his upward momentum stops, which tears through enemies with low health or a weakness to rocket jump but doesn't protect him against bulkier foes or stage hazards. while he can still move left or right while rocketing upwards, the only way for rock to stop moving upwards is to either naturally run out of momentum, hit a ceiling, or take damage.

some platforms can only be reached by using rocket jump.

cost: 3 units per use [10 uses from a full gauge]

obviously a joke based on the rocket jump technique in a lot of video games, lmao. rock blows himself up and ragdolls so hard he clips out of the interstellar amusement park and sonic watches as he falls past every kill plane and into infinity forever

DRILL DASH

a dash attack slightly faster than the slide going straight down, sideways, or diagonally down-left or down-right, similar to the pile driver but shorter and without upwards reach. has fairly low attack power, equivalent to two mega buster shots, but pushes surviving enemies back, allowing them to be hit again and again with a chain of drill dashes. underwater, it moves significantly faster and further, and can be fired up as well as down, unlocking eight-directional dashing.

if rock hits a solid wall he'll bounce off of it, but if he hits certain types of dirt-like walls he'll drill into them, which can uncover helpful items like health and weapon refills and occasionally 1-ups or e-tanks [probably in scripted locations].

cost: 2 units per use [14 uses from a full gauge]

i've never played mighty no. 9 but i've seen footage of like the dash thingy he can do? because it probably looks kinda like that.

HOVERING SHOCKWAVE

fires a shockwave that doesn't hurt any more than a standard mega buster shot [unless the enemy in question is weak to it], but stuns most enemies and has a fairly decent range. if you fire it in midair and then hold down the attack button, rock's falling speed will decrease dramatically, and he'll continue to float until either he hits the ground, the attack button is released, or he takes damage. hovering will cost additional energy, and if hovering shockwave is used in midair it can't be used again until rock hits the ground at least once.

cost: 1.5 units per use [19 uses from a full gauge], plus an extra 3 units per second of hovering, for a total of a little under 9 seconds of hovering taking the initial shot into account.

this one's pretty directly lifted from the hover wispon in sonic forces.

PRISM LASER

a laser projectile that either bounces off or goes through anything it hits a set number of times, maybe three to five. if it destroys an enemy its movement is unchanged; if it hits a wall or an enemy that doesn't immediately die to it then it bounces instead. can be fired in all eight directions, but once fired its trajectory is out of the player's hands. basically imagine gemini laser, then imagine it being obscenely better in every conceivable way. best used in enclosed rooms where it can bounce around a lot and doesn't have much opportunity to get lost offscreen.

some rooms have prisms in them like the ones in colours that automatically redirect prism laser, guiding them to destroy enemies blocking paths and the like.

cost: 6 units per use [5 uses from a full gauge]

cyan laser was my favourite colour power when i was a little baby because haha bright colour funny sound go wheeee. prism laser is probably overpowered because of this bias lmao.

CUBIC SATELLITE

summons four [?] orbiting cubes that shield rock from one hit each. they deal damage to enemies they touch unless said enemy is immune to the power. standard shield weapon, blue cube is a lame overly situational gimmick and i couldn't think of anything better. rock can still fire and charge his mega buster while shielded, but obviously can't use any special weapons. every time a cube is destroyed, the remaining ones spin faster, looking something like the tubinaut badnik from sonic mania. that's just a visual effect i don't know what else to write here it's a shield weapon.

cost: 3.5 units per use [8 units from a full gauge]

i think i'd like shield weapons more if i knew how to use the attacking ones to actually attack. i used leaf shield about 3 times in mega man 2 and every time i flung it in the wrong direction and got hit anyway.

FRENETIC VOID

sucks in any enemies that rock is facing for as long as the attack button is held down, drawing them to a point just in front of him. when released, the blasters on his arms [which in this form morph to look like the purple frenzy mouth] crunch down in front of him, dealing slightly more damage than a charged mega buster shot to anything that's been pulled in close enough and knocking back anything that isn't destroyed. rock can't move while using frenetic void, and if anything hits him while he's vaccuuming he drops the move without the finishing bite or knockback. this move can also draw in most types of bullets, which are absorbed and disappear if they reach the void, or continue in whatever direction they were pulled in if the move ends before they get there.

cost: 3 units per use [10 units from a full gauge]

i thought it'd be cool to combine purple frenzy and violet void somehow. i used void for the robot master name because i believe in sonic colours ds port supremacy, but the decision was ultimately pretty arbitrary.

SPIKE SPIN

what top spin wishes it was. a close-range attack where spikes emerge from rock's body as he does a speen, giving him a somewhat bigger hitbox. when he hits an enemy, he bounces off of it in a manner similar to the way sonic bounces off of everything he hits. the move lasts as long as the attack button is held down, draining weapon energy over time, and rock can still walk and jump while speening. some projectiles will bounce off of spike spin [generally small bullets like those from mets or sniper joes will bounce off while anything stronger will still hurt], and holding the move makes rock immune to spikes, allowing him to walk over them safely until his weapon energy depletes.

some items may be tucked away in places that are difficult or impossible to reach without walking over spikes, requiring the use of spike spin to reach them.

cost: 4 units per second, for a total of 7 seconds of spinning from a full gauge. the first unit is depleted the moment the button is pressed so the move can't be scummed into lasting longer.

honestly now that i'm thinking about this i might change spike spin to act a little more like how pink spike spindashes, but i was overcome by a desire for justice for top man.

i don't know how to end this post lmao but i've been thinking about this crossover for days on end. i know damn well it's a pipe dream but right now i'm in just the right mode of hyperfixation that if sega and capcom announced a sonic/mega man crossover in a video game that isn't smash lmao i would ASCEND

[dromaeo-sauridae]

TIPS FOR YOU. TIPS FOR YOU FOR ONE THOUSAND YEARS.

So you struggle with Hornet? I'm assuming Sentinel (second one I think) but I'll give tips for both! Also sorry if it's a little sloppy my hands are numb

Hornet Protcter is fairly slow. At least, slower then her counterpart. You can do damage as soon as she touches the ground, so go straight for her an you can get a few hits in. You can for the most part chase her around and continue to smack her without getting damaged but if you'd prefer a different route you can wait for her to come to you. She has a dive attack where she jumps and then swooshes at you! Just wait an when she gets close move by going in any direction by dashing. Then just turn an hit her. This works for Sentinel as well, she's just a littke faster. It's best not to chase Hornet in the air, due to her silk spin attack. You can tell when she's about to do this when she jumps and falls only a littke. That means she's about to do her attack so if you're standing close to her dash away. For the most part you can just chase her and to repeated damage. So she's not that difficult.

Sentinel is different but once you got it down its fairly simple. So! First! Don't be intimated by the speed. Just keep steady and don't immediately try to do damage. Wait for her to come to you. If you need to heal just wait for her to be on the on one side . If you rush to the other she'll generally throw her nail. This gives you time to heal. Again, it's best to be persistent and chase her, but if you don't want to do that try sticking to one side and let her come to you by either jumping and dashing, regular dashing or walking. She aslo has a block stance that lasts for a few seconds. Don't hit her during this as you can do damage and you'll only get hit. Ok so if you do the method I said like. Two lines ago the best way to dodge her with this is again, either dashing to the side or pogoing off her head. You're likely to gain soul while doing thsi so use that to heal or shoot some shade at her! Best way to avoid hits during the second faze is to stay on the ground. Don't jump if you don't need to. Besides she's generally almost done at this stage, so stick to one side and wait for her to come to you. In pantheon five there's a rest spot right after, so don't worry about healing unless you're near death. Again. Hit her as hard as you can an stay on the ground. Amd by sticking to a corner I don't mean don't move. Just stay in that general area. It's especially good to not jump around Sentinel due to her silk spin attack having a bigger radius.

Markoth is an ass. I can generally get through him but again do not get greedy with hits. This boss requires patience. HOARD THE SOUL. you can generally get a heal in when he flings his shield around. Just be careful because his shield also has a wide range. You could also use the soul to fire some shade at him but be careful. Also don't pogo off of him idk why I keep doing it but seriously I just get beat .try to stick to the platforms. Honestly most of the damage I get is from falling because I don't have a dash or wings to save me. Again it's mostly just patience an getting hits in when you can. His second faze is like the first but SPEED. You're gonna need to be constantly on the move. Try to get hits on him before he spins his shields because doing it while it's flailing around? Bad idea. Gonna get hit.

I can generally survive Markoth, but I'm usually low on health an soul. Problem is is that Grey Prince Zote is next. He's not difficult, but on low health he can be a challenge. His main attack is jumping and creating shock waves but every now and then he'll run around while waving his nail. Take this time to pogo off of him and deal damage. Be careful though because he'll fall over and you'll miss time the next pogo, and fall on him. You can get two heals in while he's stunned, but don't try to heal any other time. Again he uses shock waves that go all across the arena . He can also spawn in zotelings, either jumping or flying versions. Those are easy to kill, but annoying. The other is the zote bomb as I like to call it. These . Explode obviously. Don't accidentally jump into them because they do double damage. But while he uhm! Is doing his war cry to spawn them you can get a ton of hits in a generally stun him. As with Hornet a lot of it is just chasing him around and shade dashing .

Now. After this is Failed Champion. You do not want to mess up her. FC does double damage, and is much faster. Dashing is necessary. Again with False Knight, you can hit him till he's down, and do three shrieks and two hits on him when he gets back up (after you smack his face twice). It's a bit more risky but again. Makes it less likely to die. You can resupply soul by hitting him wirh the dream nail when he's down, but best to do that when you have Dream Wielder. You can also heal quickly while he's down and while he's flailing around. But you can get hits in while he does this so it's either hitting or healing. now, YOU WSNT TO BE ON FULL HEALTH. after this is NKG and there's no rest spot on after you beat him.

That's all I got for now but uhm! Hope it's helpful

HII!!!!!

HONESTLY I STRUGGLE WITH BOTH HORNETS LOL. i think bc i usually move around the arena a lot jumping and dashing and she does too so we’re always running into each other JFNSNNF.

and UUUGGH MARKOTH. i die bc i fall into the bottom so much lol. i gotta go into godhome and fight him a bunch bc im alwayssss getting smacked around a lot and its so FUCKING ANNOYINGGG i will keep what u said in mind tho :’))

I LET ZOTE DIE BC I FUCKING HATE HIS BOSSFIGHT AND HEARING HIM IN DIRTMOUTH CONSTANTLY SHAHRHAHAHAH SO I DONT HAVE TO DEAL WITH HIM LMAOO

FAILED CHAMPION BEATS MY ASS. im dreading having to fight that bitch cuz ik its gonna be sooo hard. usually i die bc i dash into his mace or when hes jumping on accident cuz my hands fucking suck

THANK YOUUUU FOR ALL THIS IM KINDA BAD AT WORDS BUT !!! I APPRECIATE U SO MUCH

[allcrncthing]

TITLE :: WHAT?

DESCRIPTION :: Flynn gets an unlikely visitor early one morning.

TIME PERIOD :: July, 2012

CHARACTER(S) :: Flynn Aspen, Nick Fury

WORD COUNT :: 1.7k

WARNINGS :: Swearing

NOTE :: This is part one of two in the DON’T RUIN HER mini-series!

It was seven in the morning when knuckles thumped against her apartment door. Flynn shuffled out of her room, rubbing her eyes as she went. God, I hope it’s not Mrs. Baust complaining again. Mrs. Baust was Flynn’s elderly neighbor located on her right. For whatever reason, she didn’t like the redhead; always complaining about stupid shit and trying to her the landlord to kick Flynn out.

She opened the door then nearly slammed it shut. Standing before her was Nick Fury, director of SHIELD. “Can I help you?”

With his one good eye, he looked her up and down. “You know why I’m here. Get important shit and meet me on the roof.”

“Mister, you must be confused.”

Fury scoffed. “Me? Confused? Hurry up and grab your shit, I’ll see you on the roof.” He closed the door for her, leaving a dumbfounded Flynn in his wake.

She pressed her forehead against the cool wood of the door. “How the hell did he find out?” She groaned, agitated. “Christ Flynn, he’s Nick Fury, he always finds out.”

Around three months ago Flynn found out she had powers. She gained them after a chunk of alien tech fell from the sky. Crazy, right? The tech--which was a good sized piece of metal if she was being honest--slammed into the back of her neck, embedding itself in her skin. Flynn could still feel it back there, sometimes rubbing her finger over the weird bump when she was nervous or bored. It must have been from a far-off society that thrived off radiation or something, because these new powers were seemingly radiation based. It was all still very new to Flynn, so she wasn’t 100% sure of anything regarding her abilities.

She trudged back to her room, shrugged off her lavender old lady nightgown, and stepped into bleach-stained grey sweatpants and an oversized I HEART NYC shirt. It was left over from her parents’ visit a while back. Hey, she wasn’t going to get all dolled up for a stranger who told her to “pack up her shit” at seven something in the morning.

Flynn grabbed a duffle bag and filled it with the basics; toiletries, a few pairs of clothes, and chargers for her devices. She hopped whatever Fury wanted with her was quick and easy. Trying to explain her disappearance at work would be a bitch.

Minutes later she appeared on the rooftop, seeing Fury standing off at the ledge, looking off into the distance. “Seen Fallen Soldier recently?”

Her blood ran cold.

Flynn licked her lips, “No.”

“Not after your skirmish in the alley?” He pressed, turning to face her.

Flynn shook her head.

Fallen Soldier was one of HYDRA’s goons. He was a fallen World War I soldier by the name of Dennis Van Dyke. According to what Flynn had read--which may or may not have been on the dark web. . .--HYDRA recently reanimated his once frozen corpse to snuff out anyone with powers. His supposed mission was to kill his target before dragging their body to a local HYDRA lab for testing.

It just so happened that he went after Flynn. Three nights ago while walking home from her shift at work, the corpse struck. He came at her with stinking, peeling flesh and the sharpest bayonet she had ever seen. While he moved at a slow pace, every time he made contact with Flynn she would get knocked over by his force. The fight was her first real power test-run. Flynn discovered she could fly and somehow create fireballs among other things. Going against Fallen Soldier was tiring. So much so she lit him on fire then proceeded to pass out on a nearby rooftop. Flynn was lucky he didn’t find her and kill her in her sleep.

Fury turned back around, facing the sun once more. From his coat pocket he drew a remote. In the sea of buttons he pressed a white one off to the left.

Hundreds of feet in the air floated the SHIELD Helicarrier. Flynn had never seen the beast of an air ship in person before. She only saw pictures of it from the battle in New York.

“Wow,” she breathed, nearly dropping the duffle bag.

“Welcome to your new home.” Fury said, watching as a ramp came down from the helicarrier’s underbelly.

Her brows immediately furred together. “My what?”

“New home! Can’t let you stay down here with that undead bastard looking high-and-low for you.”

Fury walked towards the ramp, taking quick strides. “Hurry up so we can get started on paperwork.”

She scampered after him like a puppy. “Why?”

“You’re just full of questions.”

“Oh no, how dare I question the man who told me to pack up my stuff and follow him.” Flynn groaned.

A look flashed over his face, like she did have a point. “I watched your fight with Fallen Soldier and I liked what I saw. Had to get to you before HYDRA.” Fury pressed another button, opening a door on the carrier’s side.

“Is this a temporary thing?”

“Temporary?” He howled. “Does Tony Stark shop at Walmart?”

“No. . .”

“Well, you have your answer.”

The inside of the helicarrier was bustling with life. Scientists in crisp white lab coats drifted around while armed security members marched from corridor to corridor, looking for any threats. Standing in the middle of that mess was Maria Hill.

The brunette had her arms crossed, eyes focused on Flynn. “How the hell did you get her onboard so quickly?”

Fury chuckled, “I have my ways, Hill.”

Maria rolled her eyes. “Welcome aboard, Aspen.” She held out a hand for a quick shake. “Come with me and I’ll take you for testing. It’s just to make sure your physical health is decent. If not, we have world-class doctors on board.”

“Don’t forget about that paperwork,” hollered Fury, walking away from the two women.

The ladies made eye contact. “The paperwork isn’t much, don’t worry. Most of it’s just new stuff the council requires.” Maria explained, easing Flynn’s mind just a little.

They walked down the hall, heading towards the lab wing.

Walking through the helicarrier was just mind boggling. Each part of the air ship held a certain meaning, and all of them served it well. She passed by a holding cell of lower-level, petty villains sitting inside. Many of which were whining about calling their lawyers. Another section was dedicated to the testing out of weapons. A tall ginger dressed in precautionary armor threw a small, onyx colored orb at a rubber dummy (akin to the ones found in dojos). Upon making contact with the dummy, the circle exploded, wrapping it in two thin but sturdy pieces of white rope. The tester let out an impressed noise and went to scribble something down on the clipboard next to her.

Now, they were in the lab wing. Each scientist aboard the helicarrier had their own designated lab, Maria explained. The one they were heading to belonged to their lead medical examiner, the one they sent all of the new recruits to, Doctor Sierra Warner.

Dr. Warner was a tall black woman with thick dreads dyed light brown almost blonde, pulled into a ponytail atop her head. She greeted the two with a smile, motioning for Flynn to take a seat on the examination table. “Welcome,” she said, voice as sweet as her smile.

“Thank you,” Flynn replied as she hopped onto the table.

“Fury’s newest recruit?” She inquired, eye flitting between Maria and Flynn.

Maria nodded, “Yup.”

The following minutes were taken up by basic tests; ones where Dr. Warner would check Flynn’s reflexes and her eyesight. Pretty standard stuff. Then she kind of went off track. “Fury showed me footage of your. . .fight with David Van Dyke--”

Flynn’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. He has footage of that? “How the hell did he get footage of that?”

Dr. Warner chuckled, “SHIELD has cameras all over New York.”

“God, you guys are like big brother.”

“I like to think we have flashier stuff here,” said Warner. “But as I was saying, Fury showed me your video and I thought it would be smart to use a dosimeter on you; just to check your radiation levels.”

“But why?”

The doctor shrugged, “I just have this gut feeling. Here at SHIELD we developed our own version. Instead of having you hold it, you’ll breathe into it like a breathalyzer. The results come back much faster and more accurately. For whatever reason.” Dr. Warner reached into a desk, and pulled out the SHIELD dosimeter, which did look a lot like a breathalyzer. “You can tell that I didn’t help in the development of this.”

“Who did?” Flynn inquired, grabbing the dosimeter. She brought the tube to her lips, sending a steady stream of air into the piece of tech.

“Dr. Celeste Flores-Rivero.” Warner replied, pulling the dosimeter from her mouth after it beeped, allowing her to know it was done processing the sample it had received. “Before she dropped off the map,” she muttered, observing the data displayed on the dosimeter’s digital screen.

“I’ll tell you later,” Maria whispered, giving Flynn’s shoulder a pat.

Dr. Warner chewed on her bottom lip, eyes flitting from Flynn to the dosimeter. “Flynn, I’ve never seen numbers like this before.” She rubbed at her chin, face full of uncertainty. “You’re as radioactive as Chernobyl. Hell, I didn’t even know that was possible.”

“Me?” She pressed the tip of her finger right in the middle of her chest. “Me? Flynn Aspen me?”

She nodded, “Yes.”

Flynn’s fingers went right to the back of her neck, feeling the foreign object just below her skin. “What will happen then?” God, I should’ve just stayed in my fucking room.

Dr. Warner wheeled her chair over to Flynn, resting two gloved hands on her knee caps. “We’ll figure something out. We’ve dealt with the Hulk, we can deal with some radiation. For the moment we’ll keep doing tests and then figure out what our next steps are. Some of the most brilliant minds are here, we’ll find a way to help you cope.”

She let out a heavy sigh, deflating a little bit. “Okay, yeah, that’ll work.”

[thetravelerwrites]

Karrghed (Orc) Lemon

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Female Human/Male Orc Additional Tags: Exophilia, Orc, Florence Nightingale Effect Content Warning: Blood Mention, Serious Injury Injured Orc Words: 5310

A young woman running a ranch on her own is surprised when an injured orc stumbled out of the woods during a storm. She nurses him back to health and the two grow close. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

The ranch your mother had left you when she died could hardly be called that anymore; a single woman running it by herself with no ranch hands could barely get the chores done by nightfall. When your mother fell ill, you ended up having to sell most of the livestock, and the majority of the house’s furniture, just to keep a roof over your head. As it stood, you only had three cows, one bull, a single carthorse, and a handful of goats, sheep, and chickens left. Your great mastiff, Jude, helped wrangle the goats and sheep, and was your only helper.

You subsisted on your small garden, apple tree, and by selling cows and goats milk, the chicken’s eggs, and sheep’s wool to the locals. Otherwise, it was hand to mouth every day of the week.

For the last few hours, the animals had been restless, which could only mean one thing: a storm was on the horizon. A big one too, judging from how the animals were stamping and lowing and throwing their heads around. You decided to forgo letting them roam for the afternoon, like you would on a normal day, and put them into the small barn, one by one, including the hens.

You knew the animals would be safe; your father had built the barn as sturdy as a rock. You were more worried about your garden. Too much flooding would destroy it, and then you were out of fresh produce. It’s not like you could afford to buy more.

It began to sprinkle as you started setting up a rain shield over your crops. Whether it would hold or not was the question, but you had nothing else.

The rain was coming down a bit harder as you finished up, and you were soaked through and getting cold. Just as you turned to go into your house and stoke up the fire, movement in the treeline caught your attention. You straightened up to see a man, orcish based on his coloring, stumble out of the woods clutching his stomach.

He wore furs and armor, looking to be a warrior from one of the strongholds to the north, but you weren’t sure which. He was too far away to make out any identifying features, but you could see a dark stain cascading down from where he was holding. Before you could call out, he collapsed.

Without realizing it, you were rushing out, heedless of the potential dangers, to reach the man. He lay face down in the grass, blood leaking out from his wound.

“Oh gods,” You gasped, settling down next to him, shaking him. “You have to wake up! You’re too big for me to move on my own!”

He grunted but didn’t move.

“Shit!” You swore, making a dash for the barn, throwing a blanket over the carthorse and leading him out into the rain. You made him kneel down in the grass and managed to roll the orc twice in order to get him onto the horse. The physician was too far away, so the only thing you could do was put the orc in your house, ride like mad to the doctor, and pray that he was willing to go out in a storm to treat a patient. Even still, the least you could do is get him out of the rain.

You somehow managed to get the orc into the house, though he was basically splayed out on the floor in front of the door.

“Watch over him, Jude!” You called to the dog. The big girl boofed at you and sat right next to the orc, not moving.

Afterward, you threw a riding blanket over your carthorse and vaulted up, urging it into a gallop and starting the two miles to the nearest town, praying the orc would still be alive when you got back.

The doctor, praise be, was actually willing to ride back to your house with you after gathering a few things based on your description of the wound. He saddled up his own horse and followed you the five minutes back to the ranch house with the wind whipping your face.

Thankfully, the orc was still breathing, though it was labored, and the blood was pooling on the floor underneath him. You helped the doctor pick the orc up and put him in your bed and assisted him in removing the orc’s armor and bloodied clothes, then you went out to tend to the horses to let the doctor examine the visitor in private, taking Jude with you.

“Oh, Jude, my linens,” You bemoaned. “I do hope the poor man lives, but I’ll be shearing the sheep early this year just to replace the bedclothes. I guess I won’t be making that winter coat I was planning.”

Jude whined a little and nudged your hip as you brushed down the horses, tired from their run. You were tired, too. It was barely mid-afternoon, but the clouds from the storm made it seem as dark as night outside. It was throwing off your sense of time.

After brushing, feeding, and watering the horses, as well as making sure all the animals were well in their stalls, you dashed back inside the house. You had Jude stay with the animals rather than have wet dog smell inside your home. Jude made puppy eyes at you, but you promised she could come back in when you were able to come out and give her a proper pat down with a towel.

“How is he?” You asked the doctor, putting on the kettle for some tea.

“Well,” The doctor said, wiping his hands on a cloth. “He lost a large amount of blood, but I don’t think any of his major organs were damaged. The bleeding has stopped, mostly, and I’ve stitched up the wound. My concern is that he didn’t wake up either when I was fishing around inside him or when I was stitching him up. Either he took a head wound that I can’t seem to find, or he’s more dehydrated than I thought and there’s not enough blood flow to get him to come to alertness. You should attempt to get as much water down him as you can.”

“Wait, you’re leaving?” You asked, alarmed.

“I’ve done what I can, miss,” The doctor said, shrugging on his coat. “It’s in God’s hands now.”

“That’s it?” You asked. Oh gods, you couldn’t handle a man that size. “What should I do with him?”

“Just keep him hydrated. I’ll leave you a tincture of wormwood and willow bark for if he wakes. You should also make a poultice from honey to put on the wound to prevent infection, if you have any. Good day, miss.”

The doctor put on his hat and walked out the door, setting a bottle on the table as he went, leaving you to deal with the orc.

The storm passed overnight, during which time you spent a restless few hours sleeping on the floor of your room next to the patient. Every hour or so, you got up to try and get some water down his gullet, massaging his neck to get him to swallow. You did manage to get some fluids down each time, as he swallowed reflexively, but it wasn’t as much as you liked. He was worryingly unresponsive, as the doctor said, you wondered if he was always this pale shade of green or if it was a symptom of the blood loss.

The next morning, you took down the rain shield, relieved to find your garden only slightly damaged in a way that could be fixed, took the animals out for a graze, being sure to keep them out of the field that was particularly muddy, and went to find some honey. You took Jude with you for some much needed exercise, and she happily bound over rocks and stumps.

You knew there was a wild hive just beyond the treeline and hoped you’d be able to get enough without being stung to death. An hour and five stings later, you did end up with a small honeycomb clutched in your hand. Thankfully, you weren’t allergic to them, but several stings in one place was causing a significant amount of swelling. You might need to use some of the honey poultice for yourself, if there was enough. Although, you did have some apple cider vinegar left…

You didn’t know much about medicine beyond basic first aid, but some herbalism was pretty universal. You made up the poultice with the honey and some witch hazel and a few drops of the tincture the doctor had left.

The orc was still laying straightened out on the bed, still unconscious. Last night, during the storm, you’d had only the fire in the kitchen and a single candle flickering, so it had been rather dark. Now in the full light of day, you could get your first good look at the man who had stumbled onto your ranch.

His face was relaxed and handsome, though there were scars on his lip and across his nose. His tusks were large and circled with gold bands, though the tusks themselves had several nicks in them. Additional scars criss-crossed his well-defined chest and abdomen. His stomach, where the stitched wound, was flat and muscular. His arms, too, were pretty well-formed and had scars up and down them. His hair was intricately braided and still a little wet, though there were a few wayward strands falling around his shoulders. He seemed older than his shapely build suggested, perhaps late thirties, though you hadn’t met many orcs and weren’t entirely sure.

You slathered the poultice on the wound and covered it with a bandage. You couldn’t move him to wrap it securely, so all you could do was press it down gently to keep the air off of it. You tried again to get him to drink before wrapping up your hand and going out to take care of your livestock.

The next few days were the same, and you were beginning to wonder if he would ever wake. He was in danger of starving to death, if his wound didn’t get him. But just when you were losing hope, he opened his eyes as you were trying to feed him some broth.

“Are you alive?” You asked him, setting down the tureen.

He coughed and grunted. “Doesn’t feel like it.” He stared at you with startlingly bright blue eyes. “Who are you?”

“You stumbled into my field,” You told him. “I’ve had the doctor round to look at you. Seems like he was right.”

“Doctors don’t know anything,” He said gruffly. “I need to get to my stronghold and see the medicine woman.”

“What is she, if not a doctor by another name?” You asked shrewdly. He grunted again. “In any case, you’re in no condition to be going anywhere. You’ve been here nearly a week. Another few days won’t matter.”

“A week?!” He said. “I’ve been unconscious that long? Has anyone come for me? Is my battalion outside?” He made to get up, clutching his wound. “They need to know I’m alright.”

You tried to stop him, though you had as much luck as you would have had trying to push down a mountain. “There was no one but you! You came out alone. Please, you must stay in bed or you’ll reopen your wounds!”

“I have to see for myself!” He said, standing up, not realizing he was naked. You averted your eyes as he looked down. “Where are my clothes?”

“The doctor took them off to treat you,” You said, blushing furiously. “They’re over there.”

You pointed to a bureau, where his soiled garments and armor lay. He began putting them back on gingerly.

“I need to find them! I need to find my battalion,” He said. “A commander doesn’t leave his men behind.”

“You’ll die if you go out there by yourself in this condition,” You told him sternly.

“Then I’ll die,” He said matter-of-factly. “Thank you for your kindness. I’ll return with repayment, though I don’t know when that will be.”

“Not if you’re dead,” You said in an undertone, but if he heard, he gave no sign. Instead, he strode off across the field to the woods as, showing no trace of the injury under his armor in his gait. He hadn’t even told you his name.

You watched him disappear into the trees grimly, petting Jude’s head as she whined, before wondering if you had anything in your stores that would get bloodstains out of linens.

Another day passed. You ended up burning the linens and, after mourning their loss, sheared the sheep. While you were carding the wool for spinning on your porch with Jude, she barked loudly and stood up, staring out over the field. You looked and saw the orc come back out of the woods. He wasn’t stumbling like last time, but you could see he wasn’t well, even from this distance.

You set down the wool and walked out. You’d already had a cup of water set down next to you, so you snatched that up.

“Here,” You said as he approached, holding out the cup.

His breathing was labored as he said, “Thanks.” He drained it in two large gulps and handed the cup back, his hand going to his belly.

“Did you find them?”

“A few,” He said. “They’d been buried where they lay. It’s too warm and we live too far for them to have been brought home, especially after the rain. Thankfully, it looks like most of my battalion survived and went back to the stronghold.”

“That’s good,” You said.

He nodded. “Yes. I am glad.” He listed sideways and then straightened.

You squinted at him. “Have you rested at all?”

He shook his head. “I hate to impose further, but if you have a place I might lie down.”

“Come on,” You said, leading him into the house. “I’m going to have to replace the mattress anyway. You might as well use it until I make the new one.”

“My apologies for the inconvenience,” He said as you pulled him into the bedroom and prodded him to lie down. “I’ll move on as soon as I’m able.”

“Don’t worry about that right now,” You said. “You were a fool for leaving in your state yesterday. A person your age should know better.”

“Aye,” He said in a tired voice, flopping onto the bed facedown. You pushed him to make him roll over.

“You never told me your name, you know,” You told him.

“Karrghed,” He mumbled.

“Well, Karrghed, let me look at your wound, will you?” You said.

He grunted and assisted you in removing his armor, though he blessedly left his clothes on. There was fresh blood, but the stitches were holding. You sighed in aggravation.

“If you want to make it back to your stronghold alive, you need to take better care of yourself. You stay in that bed until I tell you to get up, understand?”

“If you say so,” He said, already half asleep. You sighed again and left him alone, going back out to finish carding.

You made dinner for the two of you, and after eating your portion, you took the rest on a tray into the room for him. He was still sleeping, so you shook him awake.

“Hey. I brought you dinner,” You said.

He managed a ghost of a smile. “I must be dying if a lovely woman is bringing me a meal in bed.”

You snorted. “Well, if you’re feeling well enough to flirt, I’m sure you’re nowhere close to dying. Sit up.” He did so and you put the tray on his lap. “Can you feed yourself?”

“I can manage, yes, thank you,” He said sardonically, taking the spoon in his hand and scooping up some of the stew you made.

“So… what happened?” You asked, sitting on the edge of the bed. “What brought you dying to my doorstep.”

He shoveled a spoonful of stew in his mouth and swallowed before answering. “A local village came to us about a large bandit attack that had killed several merchants and stolen much of their money and wares. They asked us to find the bandits and take care of them. They didn’t know how many there were, just that several businesses were hit at once. I took my battalion, fifty men strong, out to track them, five men to a team, twenty teams each. Team H came back and reported they’d found a camp that had some of the items that had been stolen, so we went to investigate. We walked into an ambush. And they weren’t bandits. They were a rival stronghold.”

“Oh gods,” You said. “There has to be some serious bad blood for them to do something like that.”

“Oh, yeah,” He said. “They claim they own the land our stronghold is built on and have been trying to push us out of our territory for almost a century. They’ve been getting more brazen lately, but I didn’t think they’d resort to murder. Strongholds are supposed to have a code of ethics. Whatever issues we have with each other, we never get innocent outsiders involved. This incident is designed to provoke a war.”

“War?” You said, frowning with concern.

“Yes,” He replied, eating as though unfazed. “As soon as I’m well enough, I need to make the trek back to the stronghold. They’ll need me for the coming battle. If this was the precursor to a full assault, I will be expected on the front lines.”

“So I’m letting you recuperate here just to die back there?” You asked sourly.

He shrugged. “That is the nature of war.”

“That doesn’t mean I have to like it,” You said, staring out the window.

He was silent, and you could feel his eyes on you. “Are you alone here?”

“Yes,” You replied.

“No family?”

“I was an only child, and my mother died recently. She had been sick for a long time.”

“Your father?”

“He died when I was a little girl,” You said flatly. “In a war. That’s about the time my mother became ill. I always believed it was heartbreak. She was never the same after his death.”

“I see,” He replied in a neutral tone.

You stood suddenly. “I need to tend to the animals. I’ll return later.”

You left the room without looking at him, and he said nothing to stop you.

Another two days passed with a rather formal atmosphere. You came in only to bring his meals, give him the tincture, and check his wounds. He didn’t attempt to flirt with you again, merely thanked you for the food and care.

You slept on the floor in the weaving room with Jude, since there were no other beds in the house. It had once been your bedroom, but you had started sleeping in the same room as your mother after she had gotten sick. You had been working on the canvas for the new mattress. You wished you had linen for the canvas, but you could never grow enough flax for a full mattress.

“Is this where you sleep?” You heard him ask from the doorway.

“Well, a large orc has taken residence in my bed, so yes,” You said groggily, rubbing your eyes. “What are you doing out of it?”

“I had to take piss,” He replied, his arms folded as he looked down at you with a frown. “Why didn’t you tell me I’d put you out so much?”

“Because it wasn’t relevant,” You said. “Do you need your tincture?”

“No, I feel fine,” He said. “I took a look around. You run this place alone?”

“As well as I can,” You replied. “It was much larger before. I had to sell a lot of what we had to pay for my mother’s treatments.”

“That’s still a lot of work for a woman on her own,” He said, his face softening. “You’ve been doing all this and taking care of me at the same time?”

“I’m used to it,” You said as you stood, brushing off your clothes. “I did it for my mother for years.”

“Dedicated. I like that in a woman,” He said with a smile.

You frowned at him. “Don’t waste your time with flirting. You’re leaving soon, remember?”

“You could come with me,” He said, his face serious.

You considered him. “This is my home,” You replied finally. “Besides, I could never commit myself to a warring man. I won’t die like my mother did.”

“Dying as a warrior is the highest honor for an orc,” He said automatically.

“I don’t know much about honor, but it seems to me that dying a happy old man isn’t a bad way to go, either,” You retorted.

“You wouldn’t understand,” He said, turning away.

“You’re right,” You said to his back as he returned to your room. “I don’t understand.”

There was no reply.

The next morning, you and Jude went out to care for the animals, only to find that the morning chores had been done. The water troughs were full and there was hay in the feed bins. The chickens had been fed and the eggs collected. The cows and goats had been milked and the milk was in the jugs, seal and waiting to be distributed. This felt odd. You’d never woken up and had nothing to do. Bemused, you went to make breakfast.

Karrghed came out of the bedroom in just his clothes. They were freshly laundered, the bloodstain still present but cleaned as well as possible and the hole stitched. His hair was rebraided and he seemed to have washed himself.

“Thank you for doing my chores, but you shouldn’t do so much while you’re still healing,” You said, beginning to chop some vegetables for breakfast.

“It was the least I can do,” He said. “Besides, orcs heal fast.” He leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed and watched you bustle about the kitchen. “I think I’ll be well enough to get out of your hair tomorrow.”

“Hmm,” You hummed. “If you’re sure.”

“I was serious yesterday,” He said. “I’ve never considered taking a wife before. As you say, being a soldier means you’re always putting your life in danger, so it never seemed sensible to get married. But… you’re captivating. Loyal, hard working, kind. Beautiful. You wouldn’t have to struggle to survive. You’d be taken care of.”

“I don’t need to be taken care of,” You told him evenly. “Besides, I was serious, too. I won’t marry a soldier. And I won’t leave my home.”

There was silence for several minutes as he watched you cook. You had a feeling the conversation wasn’t over yet. You plated the food and set it on the table, and he took a seat opposite you.

As you were eating, he said: “Would you be willing to wait for me?”

“Wait?” You echoed.

“I have to go back and see this thing done with the rival stronghold,” He said, setting his fork down. “But… When it’s over… I could return here. I’ve been thinking about what you said, about dying happy. Being a soldier… it fulfills a sense of duty that every orc has, it’s rewarding, sometimes it’s even fun. It’s expected of me, but I’m not sure it’s ever made me happy. Most men my age have settled down, handed the battle to the next generation, usually when they’re wounded to the point that they don’t see the appeal anymore. Perhaps it took a gut wound for me to reach that point. Maybe it was meeting you. But… I’d like to try another life. A happy one.”

“What if you decide you’re not happy?” You asked him bluntly. “What if you give up your entire life and realize you made a mistake? Where does that leave me? Right back where I was. You’ve gotten what you wanted, and then you leave.”

He shook his head. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“You don’t know what you’d do, you’ve never been in this situation.”

He reached across the table and took your hand. “I know myself. No matter what, I wouldn’t abandon you. I’m a man of my word.”

“Karrghed,” You said, sliding your hand out from under his. “We don’t even know each other, and we certainly don’t love each other. We have two different lives. You can’t give up everything you know in an effort to repay a debt you think you owe because I helped you, and you won’t convince me that this offer of marriage isn’t some sort of misguided attempt to reimburse me.”

He sat in a stony silence for a minute, staring at his plate, his jaw working.

“You think I don’t love you?” He asked darkly. You stared at him for a moment before he suddenly stood, said, “Thank you for the meal,” and retreated into the bedroom. You sat stunned at the table, staring after him, feeling confused and out of sorts.

Karrghed didn’t reappear for lunch or dinner, nor did he respond when you ask if he needed anything. You spent the day sewing and stuffing the new mattress and covering, thinking hard on what Karrghed had said. The hurt in his words.

You think I don’t love you?

“Karrghed?” You called through the door that evening, just after nightfall. “I’ve finished the mattress. Will you help me move it to the bed? It’s unwieldy and I’m having a hard time moving it on my own.”

At first, you didn’t think he would respond, but just when you were about to give up, you heard his footsteps approach and the door opened. He didn’t look at you, just brushed past you and hauled up the mattress, taking it to the bedroom. You followed him inside with new linens, waiting as he swapped out the mattresses before making the bed. He took the old one out to the barn and returned before you had finished.

“You should sleep on the bed,” He said. “It’s yours anyway. I’ll sleep in the other room.”

“Nonsense,” You said, smoothing out the blanket. “You’re still healing. You should have the bed.”

“No,” He said, his voice like steel. “It’s shameful of a man to make a woman sleep on the floor.”

You took a big breath and said, “There’s room for both of us.”

His face hardened. “Don’t play with me.” He propelled himself off of the frame and stalked off to the other room.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you watched him walk off. You didn’t know what had overtaken you, but you knew you had to set it right. If he left tomorrow angry with you, you’d regret it forever.

“I’ll wait for you, Karrghed!” You called through the door.

He stopped there in the doorway of the weaving room, his back to you, breathing hard. Slowly, he turned on his heel to look at you.

“You swear?” He said in a hushed tone. “You swear you’ll wait?”

“Yes,” You said. “Karrghed, I swear.”

The first true, genuine smile you’d ever seen split his face. It made him look ten years younger. Three long strides was all it took for him to reach you, and you pressed his lips you yours. You’d never imagined you’d react the way you did, throwing your arms around his neck and drinking in his kiss as if it were a rare wine. He wrapped his arms around you and lifted you, laying you down on the fresh bed.

The heat flooded your body as he placed himself between your legs, kissing your lips, cheek, neck, and shoulders, pulling down your sleeves to expose more of your skin. You tugged up his shirt and pulled it over his head, wrapping your legs around his waist. Your fingers drifted across the stitches in his stomach.

“Wait, wait,” You said. “You haven’t healed enough for this.”

He groaned, but he knew you were right. “Very well. Then I’ll leave you with a promise, then.” He sank down between your legs and touched your swollen lips with his large fingers. You gasped and your head fell back onto the covers. He kissed your inner thighs as his fingers teased you, and you writhed underneath him. Nothing had ever made you feel like this before, and you wanted more.

He leaned forward and his tongue pressed itself to your slit, and your body tensed involuntarily with pleasure. You grabbed his hair and tugged hard, pulling him closer, and he chuckled. His tongue plunged inside of you and moaned, his fingers gliding over your clit, rubbing it in circles. He definitely seemed like he knew what he was doing. He sucked and nibbled and nipped, and you were glad you had no neighbors, as you didn’t realize you could scream so loud.

“I love a woman who’s not scared to make noise,” He said as he came up for air.

“You said you could stop?” You asked breathlessly, laying on the bed like a de-boned fish.

He laughed as he pulled himself up and laid on top of you. “Much more and you’ll be asleep for a week, like I was. You need to recover.”

You mewled unhappily, but submitted to his kiss.

The two of you slept naked, wrapped up in each other, and in the morning, he dressed and readied himself to leave.

“I swore to wait,” You said sternly. “But now you have to swear to come back. Swear to me.”

“I swear, beloved,” He said, kissing you gently. “I don’t know how long it will take to put this to bed, but when it is done, I’ll return. I swear.”

Six months passed, six months of letters, gifts, and treasures sent as “bride-gifts” as it was called in clans, presents to prove to the bride that the groom was more than capable of providing for her. From just these things, it was clear to you that Karrghed was very well off, apparently having made a name for himself as a commander early in his career.

The day finally came when he would return. You watched from your porch from dawn, waiting for him. Jude knew before you did, bounding off of the porch and launching herself toward the woods. He walked with haste up the gravel trail, a horse and cart behind him, followed by a line of cattle, two horses, and a procession of orcs, at least ten in total, all with packs.

You jumped off the porch and ran to him. He left off giving Jude a good pat in time to catch you as you jumped up, kissing you soundly.

When you broke apart, you asked, “What’s all this?”

“This is my family,” He said with a grin, extending a hand. “They’re here for the wedding, and my parents wanted to come in person to thank you for saving my life. My two youngest brothers will be staying on as ranch hands.” He pointed at two young orcs, perhaps not fully grown. “It’ll be good learning for them before they join the corps.”

“But!” You said. “I’m happy to meet everyone, but there isn’t enough room in the house for all of them!”

“No worries, my love,” He said, still smiling. “As their wedding gift to us, they will be helping to build a new barn and add on to the house. There’s no telling how many children we may have. It’s good to be prepared.”

You laughed and blushed at the same time. He chuckled at you.

“I kept my promise, didn’t I?” He asked in your ear.

“You did,” You replied, hugging him around the neck. “And so did I.”

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