#that's how it rolls when you're all in it to kill mages who go out of control

[thesimpsbasement]

How do you think Azul would deal with having a s/o where he would say they would do crimes to people who would bully their s/o and s/o is like “That’s illegal, but awe 🥹”? Like if he paybacks someone, s/o is trying to be the voice of reason, but they’re smiling so it ruins it?

You're so right. omg, he'd be so extra about it, too

Azul is definitely the type to beat the shit out of your bullies no questions asked

But only after making sure you're okay of course,he has to take care of his precious angelfish before he gets his hands dirty

Even if the bullies didn't bother you that much, Azul is not having any of it.He's not going to let people disrespect you like that.He'd pamper you even I'd you protest,shower you in affection and after he's certain you're feeling better he excuses himself and leaves the room

You begin to worry when he still hasn't come back, that is until you hear a familiar voice or rather voices shriek in pain as 2 other familiar voices laugh hysterically. Rushing towards the VIP room,the scene you're met with was truly something.

Floyd and Jade holding your bullies still,said bullies bruised and bloodied.One might think the twins were responsible for this but as soon as you see the now injured bullies the dots connect. Despite not being the tallest or the most muscled man,Azul's physical strength shouldn't be underestimated. The damage on the now crying victims’ of Azul's wrath made you wince

Azul simply turns to you “hello darling,sorry for making you wait for so long,just have this mess to clean up” he says with a menacing smile. You want to feel bad for them especially when being held in a death trap like the tweels but you can't help but smile,letting out a chuckle. “Azul you can't just beat up people to a pulp like that,it's mean” you say.A part of you is telling you to be the voice of reason,to somehow convince Azul to not strangle anyone who dares to badmouth you,but at the same time another part of you is all over the moon.Seeing them in such a pathetic state made you feel giddy almost. “Nothing is too mean when it comes to protecting you” Azul simply replies “Now be a dear and wait for me in my room,I'll be back shortly” he says in a sweet voice.The bullies turn towards you with a pleading look but you simply smile,waving “Alright dear,don't bully them too much” you tease “Oh don't worry,I won't bully them, I'll just give them a piece of my mind” he says as he watches you leave.

Eventually, you hear the door opening,revealing your darling boyfriend.He sheds his outer layer of clothes,leaving him in his white button-down as he plops right beside you on his comfy bed. “Hope you didn't miss me too much” he says,pulling you towards him “you know I always miss you” you reply,pressing a kiss on his cheek,not missing the way his cheeks are dusted pink. “And I always miss you”, he replies,kissing your lips softly. When you pull away, you stare lovingly at him,admiring his beauty. You both stay in comfortable silence before you speak once more “you know you didn't have to do all that. it could've gotten in trouble”.Azul chuckles,hand cupping your cheek “Don't worry about that,angelfish ,besides even if they were to report me to the head mage I have my own ways of getting myself out of trouble” he says,almost menacingly. You sigh,shaking your head at his antics “Do you really have everyone wrapped around your fingers?” You ask “hmm not everyone” He says ,eyes locked on yours “You're the one who has me wrapped around their finger” he says before leaning in to steal a kiss.You sigh again,giggling as you cup his cheeks “mhmm just don't kill anyone next time alright?”.Azul smiles “I'll think about it” he says,causing you to roll your eyes ,hands moving towards his waist to pinch his sides,making the octopus yelp. “I protect you, and this is the thanks I get? Siiggghhh” he says in a fake sad voice. “Thank you, Azul, for your service” you say in a sarcastic voice before pressing your lips against his once more, “It's my pleasure”

[rxqueenotd]

Magic In The Hamptons

Pairing: Lukas Matsson x f!reader

Summary: Lukas is shocked to see his new GC’s Instagram feed after she heads back home to NY for a week. (Heavily implied that reader and Matsson have NOT slept together... yet)

Warnings: literal phone sex, dubious content if you squint, mentions of alcohol/drugs, sexual themes, bodily fluids, etc. MINORS DNI!

Word count: 2033

Notes: absolutely no one requested this but I’m about to join the ranks of everyone else suffering from Matsson brain rot. I’ve been silently writing a fic involving Matsson/f!reader/Kendall and this is me testing the waters to see if anyone would even entertain the idea of reading it. This all unedited as well, so please look over any mistakes!

“Lukas,” Oskar bellows from across the room. Once again, he’s moonbeamed on edibles. The entire room is buzzing on something. Oskar holds his phone up, shaking it back and forth, “have you seen what your new counsel is posting on insta?”

Lukas looks around, quirking an eyebrow. “Should I have seen it?”

Lukas is quick to break away from the crowd of people surrounding him. Finding a small corner, he leans against the cool tile as he fishes his phone out of his pocket. He opens Instagram and there you are- happy and loose and alive. Something you hadn’t felt when you’d been in Sweden. He doesn’t take it personally. He knows it shocked your system when he asked you to come to Sweden to assist with the legalities of laying off upwards of a thousand people. With the WayStar acquisition and merger in its early stages, the both of you have been tense. Moreover, the sexual tension between the both of you seemed to hit an all time high before you were called back home for a family friend’s wedding. 

“Too bad she won’t let loose like that with all of us,” Lukas looks up at Oskar who peers over his phone and watches as he scrolls through the slides. 

 Amongst the curated feed, the newest post stands out from its tailored predecessors. Gone are the days of a carefully monitored feed. Gone are the days of Logan Roy. The first photo is innocent, it’s you and a group of friends clinging to one another. You're tanned, practically glowing, he notices. The next one is a panoramic of the estate he assumes you’re staying at for the wedding. The well curated lawn, hedgerows, and statues meticulously placed along the sprawling grounds screams ‘old money’ and a quick click of the tagged location lets him know you’re in The Hamptons. He’s back on the slides again as he thumbs over to the third photo. You’re lying back on a lounger by a pool. The smallest bikini covering the most intimate parts of you, with the rest on full display. The first thing he notices is the Jacques Marie Mage sunglasses you’re wearing. If he had exquisite vision and the capability of zooming far beyond anything an iPhone offers, he would be able to make out Kendall’s initials on the right sided temple. You’ve had them for years, an old pair Kendall had given you when you lost yours in the ocean. Things may have soured between you and Kendall but his sunglasses were your favorite amongst your precious collection. The most peculiar thing about the photo is the reflection in the lenses. Lukas zooms in further and sees, what he assumes, to be a man leaning towards you. He’s smiling down at you in an appetizing way. Like he’s going in for the kill. The next slide is a Live Photo of you letting smoke billow from your slightly agape mouth. Your eyes are glazed and slightly rolled back.  The first thing that comes to his mind is vivid. He imagines this is how you look when you cum. He thinks of his thumb on the crest of your tongue as he rolls his spit around your mouth with the pad of his finger, your doe eyes staring up at him as you come undone. He swallows the lump in his throat. He secretly wishes you were here with him. The next photo is of you sitting in a corner booth. The lights are dim, except for a small amount of candlelight spilling across your face from the centerpiece. There’s a man, someone he can’t place, sitting beside you. He looks like him. Same build, same profile. His face is brushing against your cheek, arms snaked tight around your waist. Your arm is wrapped equally as tight across his shoulders, your right hand tangled around his arm. He notices no one is tagged. No matter, he thinks, he will find out who he is regardless. The next photo stops him in his tracks totally. Your front is pressed against a marble wall, back completely bared for the photo, a slinky dress hanging off your waist. Your fingers splayed out in your hair, pushing it upwards, away from your face. You don a smirk. The one he wants to fuck right off your face. There's a small hint of a tattoo spanning the length of your right side. As much as he zooms, he’s unable to make it out. He wonders what you were thinking when the photo was snapped. Specifically, he wonders who took the photo. Without another word, he slides his phone deep in his pocket and takes off upstairs. He sits idly amongst the deep cushions of the couch spanning the wall of his bedroom before he slides his phone back out. He finds your contact with ease and initiates the call. 

It rings four times before he dejectedly pulls it back from his ear. 

“Hello?” Your sleep laden voice calls out before he can end the call.  

“What’s that tattoo on your side?” He sets off into the conversation. No need for formalities. 

You sigh loudly into the receiver, “it’s three in the morning, Lukas.” 

“Show me.” He insists. 

Another sigh leaves your lips. “It’s a sword.” 

You tell him. 

“I’m a visual learner,” he says lowly, “show me.”

Another loud sigh and he hears your phone being shuffled around. His phone vibrates against his ear and he slides it down, opening your highlighted name in his Notification Center. 

No face at all, just your left hand covering your breasts, right arm hovering above your form to snap the photo. Your stomach is partially bared to him from your position on your side with your lower half wrapped in a deep green down comforter. He pays attention to everything but the tattoo. 

It’s his turn to sigh now. 

“Did you fuck him?” You’ve begun to notice how his accent slips through when he’s turned on or worked up. This isn’t his first time getting riled up around you. You figure it won’t be the last either.  

“I did.” you admit. Lukas notices more shuffling from your end. 

“Tell me about it.” He pushes you further. There’s a certain longing in his voice. He lays his phone on his chest and taps the speaker icon as his hands come to rest on his hip bones. He pulls his cock free and it springs out, slapping against his belly, resting just below his belly button. He’s hanging on your every word. 

You inhale deeply. 

“We drove out to the beach a few days ago,” you tell him. “Just for a little while to get away from the wedding chaos. I climbed over once he parked the car and fucked him right in the driver’s seat of his Audi.”

A groan manifests deep from his chest. He has a firm grasp on his cock now, his pointer finger and thumb rolling over the swollen head repeatedly.

“You let him cum inside you?” His question comes out breathy. 

You chuckle lightly, almost sardonically, “I didn’t.” 

The phone is pressed tightly against your ear as you imagine what type of state he’s in. 

“Would you let me cum inside you?” He asks. You clench at the mere thought. His breath hitches and you can tell his hands are no longer idle. 

On the other line, he throbs viciously in his hand. He slows his movements as he waits for your answer, a tight grip around his thick base. 

“Do you want to?,” you suck in a gasp of air, “Is that what you’re thinking about?” 

“Yeah,” he breathes out, “it’s all I’ve been thinking about.” 

“Mmm,” you muse, “maybe if you ask nicely.”

“I don’t ask,” he growls out, “I take.“

Against your will, a light moan flies out of your mouth. The sheets are clinging to the edge of the mattress as you squirm and writhe around, squeezing your thighs shut for any sort of relief. 

“Yeah,” he questions with a tinge of a chuckle, “you like that?”

“I do,” you admit, “I thought about you the entire time I fucked him. I closed my eyes and imagined it was you.”

There’s no response to that. The only sound you hear is flesh on flesh. A slapping noise that echoes around the room and straight into the receiver. 

He’s working himself viciously on the other end. Thinking about you tight and slick around him, a silken vice, fucking you until you forget anyone else has ever fucked you. He imagines being deep inside you, filling you up to your belly, fucking you so good, you don’t walk right for days. 

“You like that?” It’s your turn to taunt him. 

“Yeah,” a murmur of a grunt slides out of him, “I am going to ruin you.”

You don’t doubt it. You anticipate it. 

You can tell he has met his end when a few strangled grunts pour out of him, followed by a dull, scratching sound reverberating from his side of the call. You hear him sigh loudly, chuckling as his voice comes back into earshot. 

“Dropped you.” He says with no indication of what has just transpired between the two of you. The casualness in his tone, as if you’ve both just spoken about the weather. 

You only laugh in response, squirming around in the bed, pulling yourself up to rest on the mountainous pillows.

“I am tired,” you whisper out, “still a little drunk.”

"Let me see you,” and before you can tell him ‘absolutely not,’ your phone vibrates with an incoming FaceTime from him.

You reluctantly answer, squinting briefly before adjusting to the light filtering in from behind his face.

“You look like shit,” he tells you and you laugh, nodding in agreement.

“When did you go to bed?” He asks and you glance at the time pinned in the corner of your phone.

“An hour ago?” You shrug, “if that.”

It’s obvious he is no longer paying attention to you, rather doing god knows what else on a different tab. You take the moment to glance at your reflection in the small window hovering beside his face. You’re missing an earring, your eyeliner has bled down onto your cheeks, and your hair is wild. You tuck the duvet further under your arms, making a mental note to search for the earring amongst the sea of sheets. 

And then he’s back, staring at you as you disassociate to the view out the french doors across from the bed. 

“There’s going to be a car there to pick you up at eight,” your phone vibrates with a text from him, “just sent you the details.”

You swipe down to see he has scheduled a meeting with you for later this afternoon.

“A meeting?” You groan, “The only meeting I want to have is with a pillow.”

He is up and moving now and you can tell by the new surroundings, he is in his bathroom. He has placed his phone down on the counter, crooked, and you watch as he grabs a tissue, wiping it across his lower stomach.

He shoves the cum filled tissue close to his phone.

“All for you, baby!” He maniacally laughs out. He takes his shirt off and tosses it haphazardly in the corner.

You grimace, turning the deepest shade of red. “You are disgusting.” You don’t mean it. In a sick way, you’re almost flattered. 

You inhale sharply, suddenly aware of what has transpired between the two of you. The gravity of the entire situation weighs heavily on you as you shift in bed.

“We can’t make this a thing.” You tell him, “there’s work to be done.”

“I know,” he assures you. He’s on the move again, only stilling when he plops down on his bed, “but the way I see it is either we fuck it out or we fight it out.”

‘And I don’t fight fair,” he continues, “and I know you don’t either.” He smiles at you knowingly.

“I will see you soon,” he says and you’re back on your home screen. You lock your phone with a groan and roll over. 

[lorellaishc]

Wounds Unhealed

(( DWC February 2024 Day 4, Vengeance/Satisfaction, CW: None, @daily-writing-challenge ))

In the wake of the celebrations of the Blooming

The air that blew through the greenery of Amirdrassil smelled sweet in Ghorren's nose as he stood on a hill, feeling the soft loam and grass beneath his toes. After years serving Zandalar as a mercenary hired out by the crown, both to gain riches for the nation and to keep the other peoples of Zandalar properly intimidated by his people, fighting alongside bonafide heroes, and saving people he did not know was a new feeling. A welcome one, but new nonetheless. Thus as the celebration went on, he'd decided to take a moment to himself to enjoy the moment free of the noise. Well, most of it.

The grass behind him rustled as footsteps approached, heavy and angry. Three figures, he guessed. Sighing, he turned to take them in. Three kaldorei, young in face but far too old in their eyes. Survivors of Teldrassil, he guessed. Young, fired up, and not quite feeling sated by victory. And here he was, a troll separated from the party.

Perhaps he ought to have waited for his quiet moment.

"You don't belong here, monster. Draw your weapon and defend yourself!" the apparent leader of the elves declared, holding out a sabre. The two behind her were armed as well, a mage's staff and a bow with a nasty looking arrow.

"Easy now, I'm here by invitation. We all fought against the primalists to save this tree. We're all trying to enjoy the victory."

"You don't deserve to be here, filth! Not after what your kind did to us!" the leader shot back. The staff wielder joined in. "You horde monsters destroyed our home, killed our families, and think that you can just come in here and help and all will be forgiven?"

Ghorren's heart hurt. He fought down the urge to point out that Zandalar wasn't part of the Horde when their warchief had assaulted their former capital. He knew well the pain of loss, and how it defied logic and reason. But at the same time, he really didn't want to lay a beating on a bunch of hurting kids, or leave them to go after some other tempting target. "If you're going to kill me, I'd appreciate it if you didn't do it with such an amateur stance," he said, rolling his shoulder.

"What?" the leader asked, confused.

"Your stance, your legs are too close together, and your grip is too tight. You're going to hurt yourself. Spread your feet more, and loosen up a bit on the sword, you need to be able to move it. And you, your bowstring is loose, you're not getting enough power to kill a stag with that, much less a troll. As for you, mage, you'd be smart to have an incantation charged and ready if you're going to pick a fight, you don't want to be the slowest to act in a fight."

"Shut up troll! Pick up your sword and defend yourself!"

"No." Ghorren replied. "I've fought enough today. Elves and trolls and orcs and dragons, all who wanted to destroy this place. I'm tired, and trying to enjoy some rest. You want to do this, then do it."

The kaldorei's courage wavered. Ghorren let out a mental sigh of relief at having read them right. He looked in the eyes of the leader, that were now wet with tears of frustration, anger, and loss.

"Elune damn you, you're a savage, why won't you fight?" she cried.

"What was done to you, to your families and home, was monstrous. Those responsible have faced judgment, either here, or elsewhere at the hands of your leaders. But the pain is still with you. I know. So is mine, from the losses I have faced. The only way to lessen that pain is to grow beyond it. The war is over. You and your people have a new home. It's time to stop surviving, and let yourself live and grieve."

The leader's face was wet with tears as the grip on her blade loosened, and the tension in her body dropped with a sob. "This isn't fair, none of this is fair, our families are still gone, and we're just supposed to move on?" she cried, falling to her knees. Her friends set down their weapons, and knelt to hold her, sobbing themselves.

Ghorren looked upon them sadly. Even though they were elves, even though their peoples had long been enemies, it was taking every ounce of his self control to not reach out to them. He was a father, and they were hurt children. But none of them were ready for that. So instead he kept his voice soft, like when he sought to soothe his own daughters when they felt anguish. "Go back to your people. Go to your priestesses, and tell them of your pain. Causing more won't make it go away," he said, gathering his things and slowly walking away, putting distance between him and them. Once he'd gotten out of sight, he pulled out his hearthstone, and triggered it. He'd explain his failure to return to the party later. For now, the relative peace of Valdrakken called.

[scrollsfromarebornrealm]

wip: bad choices

CW: Use of time-period ableist language.

(so originally this was a response to the Cameo I got from Robert Vernon, I was inspired to write a dust-up between Estinien and Mathye in HW. And then while I was writing, the thought occurred to me that probably up until the beginning of the Field Trip or when Heustinne vanished, Estinien was still fucking right off to try and bait Nidhogg again. And probably was not paying attention to the actions of his 2IC--with it being possible to play the game that Heustinne goes missing right around the time of the Field Trip.)

------

Mathye's reaction was swift and brutal. Estinien's legs were immediately cut out from beneath him, and he slammed back-first onto the floor. As his bruised muscles howled in pain, Mathye loomed over him, staff still in hand.

"You now have two choices, my lord." He said, violet eyes now gleaming dragonfire. "You can be a good little patient and let yourself heal, which then allows you to go back on your line Dark-Knight-esqe suicidal vengence quest, or you can be a stubborn ass and bleed to death on the floor, giving our so-called 'betters' the opportunity to perform one of their favorite spectacles, a funeral for a fallen soldier! Which robs you of your chance to be the big damn sacrificial hero, and makes the Eye pick another victim to drain dry."

"How do you know of the Eye?" Estinen challenged. stopping to catch his breath. "Let me guess, you had fantasies of being Azure when you were still wet behind the ears! During that disaster that was your first and only year as a dragoon!" Mathye snorted in derision, rolling his eyes.

"I might have had aspirations, but fortunately, I was given an opportunity to do something more meaningful." He countered. "And do you know, you learn a lot when you become a cripple! Even more when you become a healer!" Estinien's eyes narrowed.

"You? With that void between your ears?" He said nastily. "Learn something?" Mathye smiled, a flash of white fang showing. Reaching for a chair, he pulled it alongside the prone elezen. Uncaring of his skirts spilling about, the white mage straddled the seat.

"Let's have a discussion about the facts of life." His leg was screaming, but Mathye steadfastly ignored it. Pain was a small price to pay for clearing the air between him and Estinien.

"Your suicidal determination aside, you're actually not a shitty commander! You're actually careful with your-" Mathye air-quoted with his fingers- "commodities. But unfortunately, you are beginning to develop a case of your head up your own ass. As evidenced by us having to send a hatchling to track you." Mathye's eyes narrowed. "And while it's tempting to let you carry on and ultimately explode in your desperately sought-after little death with Nidhogg, the reality is that unlike yourself, many of us can't just pick up and waltz out of the city whenever the whimsy strikes. Nor can we shirk and tell our 'betters' to fuck off, and not deal with whatever hare-brained scheme they have for playing solider. And leaving us in the hands of a second-in-command who effectively sodded right off with a full squad of badly needed troops on her own revenge fantasy, getting damn near all of them killed, is not the mark of a good fucking commander."

[chloearit]

// mention of self-harm

She ran off again.

I found her by the side of a river nursing a cut on her leg. It was bleeding, staining the water red. I set my bag down next to her and tended to the wound.

"Let's stop that bleeding quick, don't wanna have you faint again."

She watched me bandage her leg.

"I'm not weak."

"No, you're not." I smiled at her.

She looked at me.

"You're stronger than most twelve-year-olds I know."

She still didn't respond.

"Listen... I'm sorry. He shouldn't have said that."

"Why are you sorry, you didn't say it."

"Aya? You're not a burden. You're so young and you're already one of the most talented mages I've ever seen!"

"Yeah, who can't cast one spell without passing out."

"It's not just any spell, it's some pretty powerful stuff."

"I guess."

"You're a really smart and talented kid. You remind me of myself, honestly, when I was your age."

"I've seen the hits you can take - the hits you can hand out."

"And have you seen the spells I can cast?"

"Yes" The hint of a smile crept on her face. "At least you're better at healing than me." She looked at her leg.

"We've all got our strengths and weaknesses."

For a moment, she seemed lost in thought.

"Do... do you think I'm going to die?"

"What? Why would you say that?"

"I'm sick. You know that. Do you think it'll kill me?"

"The-" I shook my head "No, it's... not a disease. It's a disability. You were born with it, you'll live with it."

"So you don't think the fainting after casting a spell is dangerous?"

"No. Maybe. I don't know. I think you'll be fine."

"But you're not sure?"

"I... don't know how I could be. I'm not a doctor. But it's gotten better, hasn't it? I think your body just needs to get used to it."

Suddenly, she grabs my glove and pulls it up from my arm.

"Hey!" I stop her and pull it back down.

"Why do you have scars?"

"Huh?"

"On your arm. There's so many cuts. You always hide them, except when you're washing your hands."

After a long pause, I roll down the glove on my left arm and show it to her.

"Is this why you're so good at healing magic? You're always using it on yourself..."

"Yes."

"Why? Where do these cuts come from?"

"I... do it to myself."

"Why?"

"Because... I don't know. I just need it sometimes."

"To hurt yourself? Because you think you deserve it?"

Huh.

"Yes."

"I do it too, sometimes. Though not like this."

"You really shouldn't. I can take it, but you..."

"I'm not weak," she repeated, and I could have sworn just for a moment she had a self-satisfied smile.

"You're not. But you're not invincible." I ruffled her hair. "You're an elf, you may outlive me tenfold. Don't die before it's your time."

"I won't."

I hugged her from behind. Despite her age she was only slightly smaller than me. "The world will need you."

She grabbed my head with one of her hands and looked me in the eyes. "I think it needs you even more right now. Don't you die, either." Tears welled up in her eyes as she said that.

"I won't. I promise you, baby, I won't."

// by Lúcia

[shivunin]

Ooooh you're doing it again? NOICE! **

"Send me an npc (or your own oc! For funsies) and I'll tell you what my oc thinks of them."

So let's see...

Wade and Herren for Arianwen.

The Arishok and Keeper Merethari for Maria

Sir Woolsey for any/whatever of your Lavellans you feel would have the strongest opinion about the real Arl of Redcliffe.

And take Aisling and tell me all any of your characters will think of her, go. (again, pick any of these you want, no obligations! ✨)

Thank you, Arja! 💗

(NPC Opinions thing)

Oh man, Wen and those two. I won't say she likes them, but she's sort of accustomed to them? She's definitely grateful when they turn up at Vigil's Keep, but they talk so much. It's sort of in one ear and out the other for her. Most importantly, they made the really nice armor that she gave Zev and it kept him alive. They'd be on good terms just for that. She's definitely not about to start baking them cookies anytime soon, but then I can only think of one or two people she would bake cookies for.

Maria starts out with a lot of respect for Keeper Marethari, but that respect vanishes during Act 2. She gives the arulin'holm to Merrill, of course, and it really, really bothers her that Marethari not only left that choice up to her (a human) but also that she has apparently poisoned the whole clan against Merrill. The idea of having a home to go back to is so, so important to Hawke. Knowing that Marethari has essentially stolen Merrill's from her forever (how could she ever go back to the clan if they all think she's a maleficar?) is deeply upsetting. She is cordial, perhaps even cold with the Keeper after that. She comforts Merrill when the Keeper dies, but she isn't really sorry about it.

As for the Arishok, Hawke also starts out with a deep respect for him that isn't at all affected by his decisions leading up to the end of Act 2. She doesn't even really mind him killing the nobility, tbh, though she wouldn't say it in so many words. Frankly, the conditions in Kirkwall are as bad as they are because it benefits the ruling class and she despises it. As far as she's concerned, let them all burn. The only caveat to all this is that she takes exception to the rampant damage to the city and, obviously, the Arishok taking and/or killing Isabela. Even after all that, she regrets having to kill him and continues to have very mixed feelings about it long after he's dead.

Emma is the most comfortable with spirits in general and she kind of adored Sir Woolsley. She tells Adhlea stories about him all the time and even started a research project to locate and document other spirit-possessed animals, should they exist. She anonymized his location in all her documents, of course, lest someone track him down in Redcliffe and turn him from spirit to demon.

Regarding Aisling:

Arianwen would have the most complicated feelings about Aisling, I think, if she were present to watch the events of Inquisition go down. On one hand, she really doesn't like humans much and she'd be glad to see an elf in charge of such a powerful organization. On the other hand, she would not like the idea of the Chantry using an elf to spread their dominion even further. She would also have very conflicting feelings about the role of the Wardens and their level of cooperation with the Inquisition (though! I don't remember which way Aisling rolled with that, tbh). Wen's walls are pretty high, so I don't see them becoming friends exclusively because I don't see her being willing to open up like that for anyone new. Also, she would be extremely suspicious of someone referred to as the "Herald of Andraste"

Maria would get along with Aisling really well, I think! She'd be a bit taken aback by Cullen dating a mage after everything, I think, so she'd approach with caution. But they have a lot in common and Maria really likes thinking things through logically and weighing the pros and cons, so I think they'd do some good sciencey magic together c: (Also, anyone who's a friend to her friends gets a little extra leeway where she's concerned and Varric's opinion carries a lot of weight for her. Aisling would be worth befriending based on that alone, but I think she would come to like Aisling for herself pretty quickly).

Elowen would grow around Aisling like a vine on the walls of Skyhold. Aisling is exactly the kind of friend she needed so desperately in those early days and I think their strengths would bolster each other's weaknesses. So in short, I think she'd adore Aisling c:

Salshira is really uncomfortable with any personal questions. So as long as they could talk about Aisling/neutral topics, she'd be happy to spend time together. The second Aisling expressed direct worry about her/how she was doing, Salshira would run (but, you know, that's how she is; she's scared of deep connections, at least at first).

I was thinking about Aisling and Emma earlier haha! Because of that trap post. I feel like there is some universe where Aisling is the Inquisitor and Emma is some kind of researcher/magic specialist. I think these roles would suit them and Emma would appreciate Aisling's input (as long as she stops touching things, Creators, she just finished putting all those mosaics back where they were!). They would definitely start talking through theories about some magical apparatus or another, forget that time exists, and scare everyone into thinking something awful happened to them. And then keep doing it, because it's so nice to have a friend to talk about your favorite things with!

[sky-fire-forever]

happy Friday and welcome to DADWC! for Hawke/Anders, how about "it appears that you have mistaken my dislike of causing harm as an inability to do so." for a prompt?

Thank you so much for the prompt!

My Hawke in this is Mal, who uses he/him pronouns.

In the clinic, Anders is at peace. He has something to focus on, something that consumes every aspect of his attention so he can get lost in it. It's so easy for the hours to fly by while he heals the sick and the needy. 

And it feels good to help, to heal. It feels right to bury himself in his work and to get out of his head for once. When he's working, his spiraling thoughts can't catch up to him; he can't worry about all those he isn't able to save or what a monster he's become.

Hawke, however, dislikes when Anders gets lost in his work. 

“You've been in here all day,” Hawke says while Anders is cleaning up after his last patient. “When was the last time you ate?”

“That doesn't matter.” Anders waves him off easily. “I'm fine.”

Hawke grabs his arm. “No, you're not,” he says firmly, his dark eyes staring into Anders’. “At this rate, you're going to drop dead.”

Anders rolls his eyes and pulls his arm away. “I'm helping people, Mal.” 

“Help yourself for once!” Hawke snaps. “You're wasting your life healing other people and it's fucking killing you.”

Anders’ eyes narrow and he can feel Justice bubbling just under the surface. “It isn't a waste.”

How could Hawke call this a waste? After all Anders has risked to help the people of Kirkwall. The refugees and the poor and the people who have nowhere else to turn for help. What Anders does is good and Hawke dismissing it so easily makes his blood boil. 

“It is when you starve yourself and work yourself to the bone.” Hawke crosses his arms. “Come home.” His voice softens. 

Anders sighs and rubs a hand over his face. “I can't. I have more patients.”

“Let them find someone else to help them tonight.”

“There is no one else!” Anders can't take this anymore. “I'm the only one who can help these people and it's my job to do so.”

Hawke stares at him. “No, it's not.”

Anders grits his teeth. “I'll meet you at home tonight, Mal. I promise.”

He can't handle arguing with him anymore. It doesn't help and it just succeeds in upsetting them both, so Anders turns his back on Hawke to continue cleaning up. 

Before Hawke has the chance to leave, there's a pounding on the door. 

“Just a moment!” Anders calls before looking at Hawke. “I'm very busy, so please.” 

Hawke looks like he might argue, but then he sighs and shakes his head. “Fine. But we're talking about this later.”

Anders doesn't see the point in that, but if it allows him to be left alone to work, so be it. “Fine.”

He ushers him towards the door and holds it open for him. Only to be met by templars in full armor on the other side.

“Are you the Darktown healer?” One of the templars asks.

Anders’ staff is on the other side of the clinic — too far for him to reach. 

Hawke’s eyes narrow and he stands close to Anders, positioning himself in front of the mage. “Who's asking?” 

“I am,” the templar says, all authority. 

Anders looks behind the lead templar, trying to figure out what he's up against. The last thing he needs is to be outmatched in his own clinic. 

There are about five templars standing outside the door, pushing all of Anders’ patients behind them. Anders’ fingers itch and his hair stands on end just looking at them. They don't belong here, not in his place of healing and safety. 

Anders clears his throat. “I'm the healer,” he says, looking around at the templars. “If you need healing, I'm afraid you'll have to wait unless it's urgent. I have patients who have been waiting.” He gestures to the people still gathered by the door. “You can speak with Lirene at her shop in Lowtown to schedule an appointment.”

“We're not here for an appointment,” the templar says with a sneer. “There have been reports of an apostate pretending to be a healer in this clinic. I'm afraid you're going to have to come with us.”

“We are not pretending,” Justice roars to life within Anders’ mind. 

The templar places his hand on Anders’ arm, but Anders pulls away. “I'm afraid I don't have the time to go anywhere with you when I have so many patients to tend to.” He steps back, farther into the clinic. 

“It wasn't optional.” The templars move around Anders, but Hawke places himself between them.

“He says he's busy,” he snarls

The templars push their way past Hawke, backing Anders into the clinic and away from the bystanders. Good. 

Anders puts his hands up. “This is a place of healing,” he says, watching Hawke out of the corner of his eye. “I would not have you ruin it.”

“They wish to ruin our sanctuary,” Justice speaks from inside Anders’ mind. “We must not allow them to poison this place with their destruction.”

“Grab the mage,” the lead templar points to Anders. “He's just a healer. He can't hurt us.”

Hawke scoffs from behind the templars. “Is that what you think?”

Anders feels Justice beneath his skin, sparking just under the surface. “It appears that you've mistaken my dislike of causing harm as an inability to do so,” he says before closing his eyes and allowing Justice to take over. 

He retreats inside of his own mind to allow Justice to do what must be done. When the haze clears, the templars are dead and Anders is exhausted. He sways on his feet as Justice leaves control and barely catches himself on a table before he falls.

“Anders!” Hawke appears by his side, reaching out two strong arms to steady him. “Are you alright?”

Anders nods even as the clinic comes in and out of focus. “I'm fine.” He can feel the blood on his skin and can see how it paints the floor. It's horribly unhygienic for a clinic. “I need to–”

“You need to come home,” Hawke says with a growl in his voice. “That fight exhausted you.”

“But the patients–”

“Can wait.” Hawke tosses Anders’ arm over his shoulders. “I'm sure Lirene or someone can handle cleaning up. I'm taking you home.”

Anders is too tired to argue, so he just nods and rests his weight on Hawke. His eyes slip shut and he allows Hawke to take him home so he can finally rest. 

[ghstdoll]

she shouldn't have laughed as hard as she did, giggling at his joke with a wide smile on her face. if only he could see how much he amused her, he was so lovely. "he could use a leg day, but actually it's because he came home wasted..." he hit her again that day, giving her a bruised cheek that night. but she doesn't wanna ruin the moment but talking about her trauma, she doesn't need to tell him everything right this moment and theo is dead tomorrow anyway.

she rolls her eyes with a soft smirk. "well if you killed her first there would be no need to kill the guys she tries to get me to marry?" she teases. but she feels happy that he wants to protect her, keep other guys away because he loves her so much. but salem would never be with someone else by choice, she didn't even like most people because they didn't understand her. most thought she was this beautiful manic pixie type person, someone who liked sex and flirting, who didn't care about anything or she was stu's daughter, a future killer and a monster just like her father, once she drew her first blood then they would all know what she really is but she wasn't just that and it felt like regulus was the only person who could ever really see her for what she is. she was passionate and she loved so hard, she loved the sunshine in form of a man named regulus black.

she smiles at his words, eyes flickering towards her ring for a moment. it was the most beauitful piece of jewelry she ever had and it wasn't just because it was gorgeous, a green emerald that reminds her of his eyes but because it was given to her by him, something they never really had to do but they made their engagement their own.

she tears up at his words, dropping her gaze for a moment with conflicting feelings of being turned on and emotional because of her love for the boy. "nobody is ever going to know me the way you do, you know that?" she saus warmly. "my mind...my body, my desires and thoughts....no one else gets me the way you get me." she smiles softly. "you mean everything to me." he tells her how he touches his ring when he misses her most and it makes her soft, lips curling into a smile because shes glad that just the thought of her could bring him so much happiness and safety.

"I'll be sure to let him know how much his daddy loves him." regulus had the softest heart she's ever seen that truly shows in the way he takes care of their family, even a sweet black cat couldn't resist his charm. she smirks a bit when regulus threatens her soon to be ex fiancé for touching mage and she purrs. "I'll be sure to pass along the message before you bleed him out." she says in almost a seductive purr.

his following words catch her off guard a bit even though they shouldn't because really what is the option? she can't live without him and her mother would never allow him to come back with the fear that once regulus does marry salem he'll be able to expose her for everything, he'd be higher ranking than stacy and she would no longer be able to get away with her abuse. her mother dearest regulus and what their relationship could do and so...she would never allow her daughter to have what she wants. but salem doesn't know a life outside of the family, they raised her and moving on from that seemed like it was impossible. what would she do? who would she be? it all scares her so badly but not as much as it scares her to know she could end up losing regulus again and that's something she can't do. she shakes her head a little even if he can't see it. "no, reg...I wanna go with you." she says. "I wanna be with you because you're the only real happiness I've ever even known." she says shaking her head. "I can't lose you again regulus...I can't do it."

she wants to drown out reality, replaying the video he made just for her as she moans a bit at the thought of his cock, he talks while she watches again and again, smirking at the sight. "yeah..." she breathes because how could she forget. the way he stretches her out that way making her lose her mind. she can't help but whimper, biting down on her lower lip. "I could cum now just thinking about the way you stretch me apart, fucking my tight little holes...it's so unfair the way you make me feel." she hums, fingers sliding against her clit. "yes sir..." she purrs with a smirk. "I'm so wet and pretty I wish you were here to taste it." she says, pulling her panties to the side, feeling the cool air touching her needy clit as she slips her fingers against herself again. "maybe just a little..." she chuckles at his question about her mouth watering, knowing her all too well.

he laughs and then wonders if he’s a little insane for thinking it’s funny that his girl tried to poison her ‘fiance’. “why didn’t it work? did he turn down what you made because of leg day?” his tone is mocking, annoyed even just thinking about how much of a jock theo was, as if it would make up for how much of a tiny-dicked loser he was.

he smiles when she seems genuinely happy that he would kill for her. “i meant the people your mom tries to set you up with. but i would kill her too, if she ever hurt you again… if she tried to keep us apart anymore.” he’s tired of people thinking they can keep him from salem, especially after raising him to be a killer. he has so many different knives for the job, thanks to how he was raised (and his beautiful girl, with her interest in collecting them).

she explains she still wears his ring and he smiles, running his thumb over his own. the band is dark silver with a small rose engraved upon it, something he’d had custom made to represent his girl, since her middle name is rose. “i wear yours, too,” he says softly, hoping she can hear the love in his voice for her. he’s spent so many hours tracing his own ring for comfort, hanging onto the memory of her and how much he loves her because he doesn’t feel whole without her.

“he is an idiot, though. he doesn’t realize how much he’ll never have you.. he doesn’t even know how much he’s missing out, because of that.” he sounds almost sad, because he really does love her so much. “he’s worried about you not putting out and meanwhile he doesn’t realize that it’s just as bad he won’t ever get you emotionally either.” he can’t imagine not wanting to talk to her or hold her if the opportunity was in front of him. it would be torture to be married to her and not have her love, just like it’s torture to not have her with him in person anymore. “every time i’m sad or anxious– which is most of the time, since i had to leave– i touch this ring and think about you until i can breathe again.” salem is his center and his everything, and he doesn’t know how he could live without her at this point.

she mentions how much mage misses him and his heart aches, grieving a little because he wants nothing more than to see his bundle of fluff again. “i miss him, too,” he says, frowning. “will you kiss his nose for me? to hold him over until i get there tomorrow night.” he misses cuddling his sweet boy, but more than that he misses their family cuddles too, when they would all pile up together and sleep. between his girl and his cat, it’s the most loved and safe he’s ever felt. he would give anything for a night like that again, and it looks like he might just do that tomorrow. “and tell theo that if he touches my cat again, i’ll cut his balls off and use them to play hopscotch or something. that’s the most action he’ll be seeing for the rest of his life.” maybe it’s sick of him to be planning his death so carelessly, but he doesn’t have any remorse for someone who could hurt salem or mage.

he frowns again at how broken she sounds, not wanting to be stuck there without him. “you won’t be… i don’t want to leave you again. sal, i know you don’t want to do it, but i think we have to run away from them. and i understand if you don’t want to go with me, and it’s your choice… but i don’t want us to be apart anymore, and i don’t think it’s safe for you to stay. i mean, who is she going to try to put you with next? and even if she doesn’t, whose to say she won’t hurt you again herself?” just the thought of leaving her with her mother makes him sick to his stomach. he plays with his ring absently, trying to calm his nerves. 

he listens to her words, that warmth stirring in his chest because it feels good that she loves him back. “i miss you,” he says softly, but falls quiet as he realizes she’s about to watch the video he sent.

it’s kind of hot knowing she’s watching him right now, so he goes back to stroking his dick, a soft purr leaving him as she starts telling him how big he is. “i’ll make you remember, tomorrow night,” he teases. “i’ll make you scream so loud that the neighbors think there were two murders instead of just one.” he swipes his finger against his slit, realizing he’s already leaking again. “do you remember how tight you were, with me inside of you?” he thinks about it all the time; how perfect and small her cunt was, always clenching around him like he was too big for her, but they made it fit anyway.

he hears her moan and it makes him bite his lip, touching himself a little faster. “are you rubbing your clit for me, angel?” he murmurs, trying to listen to any sounds she might be making while getting off. “is your mouth watering again?” he asks, referencing the long text she’d written him earlier. “thinking about how good my cock tastes, because you’re my little whore..” it gets him off knowing she’s that desperate for him too, wanting his body like he wants hers.

[rotshop]

So, I’m sure you know where I’m going. Reader, captured and MAGed. Encounters Wank and must either fight her or doesn’t recognize her. Maybe gotta be tranquiled or severely damaged to be reasoned with. Listening or watching an argument between Wank and co about bringing and keeping reader back to the base.

Did Wank know reader before hand? Did they not? What do you think?

smmiles but in a way that shows off my molars cutely slash threat (/j)

[ tw some violence maybe? ,,,,, ]

-FOR this im saying u two knew each other before you got mag'd .

-9/10, newer mags are the most dangerous. they're the most pissed off considering the fresh pains and new trauma, meaning they're harder to control and tend to take out any sort of pent up emotions out on the nearest grunt around. like. recklessly. older mags tend 2 be a little more careful in their motions w/ experience from past revivals, newer mags will charge at you like a wild animal and tear you to shreds like one

- n e way. Wank was not at all expecting the facility she shows up at to already be in distress. seeing scattered bodies around wouldn't be as shocking if it weren't for the sheer amount of them joined by the damage to the building. long claw marks against the walls, hard indents with the cracking drywall stretching off of them, wires hanging out from the ceiling and strung across the floor, the works.

- safe 2 say !! it puts her on guard as she progresses further, confused by just how quiet it is. the only other sound being the building creaking and the occasional drip of probably one of those big fancy vats that's probably broken open because they always are. yet, she's still caught off it when there's suddenly a huge weight on her and she's rolling on the floor.

-she has to speedrun gaining her bearings as she looks at her assailant- who looks an *awful* lot like someone she remembers pretty vividly. you'd seemed pretty weak, some sort of scavenger who'd been going about your own way when you'd come upon her in one of the buildings in the area. she'd been pretty fucked up after a run in w/ tricky and not in any condition to try and snap your neck, she just hoped the probably hard to see piercing stare would be enough to go 'fuck off.' but , you didnt. instead, you'd rifled through your bag for a moment before pulling a roll of bandages out, hesitating a moment before walking closer. she'd initially been ready to try and muster all her strength to deck you, yet she forgot all about it when you were actually working on her gashes and cuts. she showed her appreciation by grabbing you by the hair and holding you still while she gave you another hard stare, waiting for you to make some sort of move (you didn't, you just sat there and stared back in confusion and some fear). your thanks was a (mostly) gentle headbutt.

-she goes :/ > :[ but like back and forth a few times. it would be a LOT easier to just fight back and probably end up killing you in the process about it but .. she didn't rlly want to. she made an excuse that she would if she HAD to .. anyway hope you like chasing someone much smaller and faster than you through a facility. eventually you end up getting caught on a bunch of wires you thought you just just run through (which !! you could, if they hadn't gotten around your neck and choked you in the process, making you stagger and fall. aka get even more tangled up.) . its. a little comical just seeing her sitting a few feet across from you and waiting till you tire yourself out. WHICH APPARENTLY ... takes a while, given how you keep seething and thrashing whenever she tries to take any real move towards you. eventuall y you do like calm down a little because all the thrashing only made you sore lmao. she just kinda . comes a little closer and stares at you again.

-its . hard ( she doesn't talk. neither do you. you don't know sign language. she can't understand what any of your grunts or huffs mean.) but you're able to like loosely understand each other and umm long story short you're hanging out i guess. you come along with her on missions n wreck shop (therapeutic reasons 4 u) and she also helps. if you go to far she does the like. so. so you remember when hank goes 'KNOCK IT OFF' at tricky. she like does that at you. but like more lh. you just huff and like. begrudgingly stop. she pats ur arm n then continues on like nothing.

-gets rlly attached to her own surprise?? she really doesn't notice it at first but. yeah. she's a lot more ok with touch than others but its like. different with you. you both are just kinda wanderers most of the time (its not super easy to constantly be going back to base) and she's always curling up against you at night. yes its partly for warmth but ????????? she????? stil does it??? when its hot out?????? she just throws her coat off to the side????? n then lays back down????/ so you know damn well its not just that.

-n e way.

-she pets you to hear you purr and you hate how effective it is. she scratches under ur chin and you narrow your eyes at her (and also like fall asleep sometimes. she thinks its cute but also you sometimes pass out with ur head on her thighs so she loses blood flow to her legs and is stuck there till you wake up) and she grins back. she purrs as well but it's harder for u to mess with her involving it. you can TRY and pet her but. its more you just kinda . squishing her down a little. she made a squeaking type noise once cause she wasn't expecting it and you went into hysterics over it. she did Not Find It Funny. (she didn't care that much though she likes seeing you have fun :] )

[definesanity]

The Beginning of a Strategy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the time of the Eclipse Dynasty, the name 'Xenophillius Tungsten' was well-known throughout the whole of Khaenri'ah.

A master alchemist, who is known for his research into the seven elements of Teyvat, the creation of H.A.N.K., and his ability to wield the power of Geo without a Vision. In addition, his sword, 'The Earth-Shaker', is known for being able to absorb the elements around him thanks to the combined efforts of him, Royal Alchemist Rhinedottir, and His Majesty, King Ophanim.

What is most notable, however, is his lack of worship to The Divine Creator; he may attend worship every Saturday or so, but beyond that? He doesn't exactly care for them.

And, it seems, for a good reason as well.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The earth was shaking more, Phillip noted.

As someone who's lived multiple lives, he would think that he'd seen it all by now: he's been a mage, a god, the father of a god, bard, a freedom-fighter, a Giant, a wizard, a god again, and now an alchemist.

And yet, as he watched the white-haired women cursing to herself, he found himself humbly amused by it once again.

"Having fun, Dotty?"

Rhinedottir jumped and whipped around, hissing through her teeth, "By the Creator, Xeno! Learn to make a noise before talking!"

Xenophillius looked at her, raising a brow at her.

"Oh for-- fine, then; Philip." she corrected herself in annoyance. "What do you need, anyways? I take it that you'd never go outside the Palace just to see me."

Philip rolled his eyes. "Ophanim wanted to see you and that 'Rifthound' project You're working on."

"The King?!" she yelled at him, blueish-grey eyes now glaring at him. "Why didn't you say that first?!"

"Dotty."

"Don't you 'Dotty' me you--" she muttered angrily underneath her breath. Then, oddly, she looked up. "What was that?"

"That," Philip replied, "Might be a group of certain someones who are here to kill us all."

"How are you calm?!"

"I'm not!" he flung his arms out, walking backwards towards the door. "Anyways-- when, you're ready, meet me outside; we've got to meet with King Ophanim in an hour's time."

Rhinedottir glared at him, before groaning into her hands, unaware of the approaching footsteps going towards her.

"Master? Is something--?"

"Albedo, don't."

(Just something I wrote when I was bored. Any thoughts?)

[anotherclassicpretence]

The head of every guild/faction seems to start losing braincells when they meet the Dragonborn. Their history implies they are these highly intelligent, capable, (in some cases) devoted people but.

Yes I know it's bad writing but it's still irritating

Astrid: rose to become the leader and kept the Falkreath branch alive when every other one was destroyed, kept the DB running without a Listener for years, but when there's a slight challenge to her authority, she goes off and takes the incredibly stupid decision of selling out the Sanctuary's location??? We're supposed to believe she trusted Maro??? After all that talk about family, you'd think she would not just... endanger everything? Desperation is one thing, this is just crazy. She should've just offed you herself if she was so insecure. No way the woman who managed to handle this Family doesn't know how to deal with the odd bit of insanity. Someone who acts like this would have lost control of that branch in seconds. (This is not even getting into the stupidity of locking yourself in a room with a possibly manic murderer and three people who would help them kill you if they freed them. She kept the DB alive by taking chances like this lightly?)

Mercer: so this guy managed to kill the former guildmaster, blame Karliah, steal the Key, and stay guildmaster for 25 years. Then when he learns that the guild is tanking (more than usual) because Karliah's taking it apart from behind the scenes to goad him to come to Snow Veil Sanctum where she is 100% prepared to kill him, he takes the new recruit he doesn't trust and fucking goes there? Like okay, the dragonborn is kinda his shield and he's tying up loose ends but why not like. Cut and run? He has all the plans and he's emptied the vault. What in his character, solely consisting of blind devotion to money, suggests he would stay there and fight? Arrogance? Maybe, but to this level? He goes AWOL after that anyway, why give Karliah an opportunity at all? (The real question that always bugged me was why he stayed at all. How long could the high of being in charge have lasted when the guild was going downhill? He could've struck out and used the Key to keep rolling in cash without the pressure of having to show basic human decency to the guild members).

Delphine: Considering everything she's been through, treating the Dragonborn the way she does is just plain inefficient. She's supposed to have evaded the Thalmor all this time, you're telling me she doesn't understand the concept of compromise? She'd be dead already, if so. And she's not exactly a fanatic, either, she's nursing her grudges when she makes membership to the Blades conditional. Which would make sense if it involved something else, but... turning away the dude you're supposed to follow is not what someone like her would do if she wanted the Blades revitalised. The fact that she does turn them away tells us she values turning the Blades into her version of them more than... you know, actually giving them a chance to stick around. And personally, she doesn't give me the power-hungry vibe. Blunt and stubborn? Yes. But fanatical and power obsessed? Not really.

Savos Aren: yeah no this guy was already negligent enough not to realise that the college was in crisis. He just lost more braincells when the dragonborn showed up by not realising what Ancano was planning to do. Honestly after his trauma in Labyrinthian and his reaction to it why is he the Arch-mage at all? Not good for him either.

Idk about Harkon cause I didn't join the Volkihar, but Isran is the one exception to this? He's great at pissing people off but he does keep his head and agrees to work with Serana. He even thanks her in the end.

~

[writer-and-artist27]

[Image Description: Four screenshots from Fate/Grand Order showing in order, (1) the Bond Level Up screen for Berserker Miyamoto Musashi, where her Bond Level has gone up from 9 to 10; (2) the “Craft Essence Extracted” screen that shows Musashi’s Max Bond Craft Essence of "The Summer I Will Never Forget"; (3) a screenshot of Musashi’s Servant card, with emphasis on all 10 of her bond diamonds in the level screen being filled and about to be enhanced to Bond 11; and (4) a “Bond Level Limit Released” screen that shows Musashi's Bond Level limit being broken to reach Level 11. End Description.]

We're nearing summer again with this post (5/16/2022), and with that comes another Bond 10 - this time for the one Summer Servant I've been relying on since she came home to my Chaldea in the Summer 4 event last year.

Thank you for fighting for so long, Shii-chan. In farming embers, killing bosses, and just being you. I hope the time we've had has been worth it, because it's definitely been that way for me. Not just "data lost" in the Spirit Origin List.

Out of the original Big Seven, that's five down, two left to go for Bond 10s. Four, if we're counting the extra duo too.

And with all Bond 10 celebrations, I have to follow up with a story, right? Song included.

---------------------------------

Ever since leaving home, Musashi never took anything for granted. Lodging, food, water, even kindness. That's what happened after missing out on the Pruning Theoretical Phenomenon. Which is why she was not expecting to be summoned after that summer in Las Vegas, allowed to stay in Novum Chaldea like any other Servant.

Being in Novum Chaldea was like she could take things for granted again. Like she could live again.

Her journey was supposed to meet its end after Las Vegas. Vy's journey was the one destined to be boundless, not hers. But if there was one thing Musashi learned since getting stuck in a swimsuit for a Berserker Spirit Origin, Vy was stubborn.

So, so stubborn, even when holding up a Bond Chalice with its rainbow flames in Musashi's direction.

"...You're sure about this, Master?" left Musashi's lips before she could stop it, holding back a dry chuckle at the confused look the younger woman gave her with a tilt of her head. "I'm a selfish person, y'know. Not so much a hero but someone who might drain your wallet dry from how much I eat. Yet," Musashi jerked her head towards the gold cup in Vy's hands, putting a hand on her hip. "You're still willing to give me something as valuable as that?"

To Musashi's surprise, a pout formed on Vy's face as she stomped her foot against the floor, the black mantle of her Mage's Association fluttering with the motion. "Don't say the same thing as your Saber self, Shii-chan. I already cried my eyes out enough with that."

"Wait, wait, wait." Musashi wasn't expecting that response either, and she found herself cracking her knuckles before she realized it. "What did my Saber self say? Do I need to challenge her to another udon-eating contest?"

"Don't you even dare try to make an excuse to get out of this." Vy rolled her eyes while shaking her head, a wry smile of her own forming on her face with the movement. "Your Saber self one time said in Shimosa that she was a selfish person. That I might have a hard time, even if she got a different Spirit Origin."

"Ah."

"But still." Vy raised the Bond Chalice up in Musashi's direction again, nearly pushing it into the Berserker's cheek out of sheer stubbornness if not for the fond glint in her brown eyes past her glasses. "I wouldn't be giving this to you if I didn't love you, Shii-chan."

Musashi froze, her hand on her hip falling to her side limply.

"Sure, there's lots of things about you. Selfish, sword-loving, dense, but still recklessly cool," Vy added after a moment, a flustered shade of pink starting to climb up what Musashi could see of her neck past the brown ponytail and lotus hair clip. "And you didn't have to stay with me throughout Shimosa and Las Vegas, Shii-chan. But you did, and I couldn't help but love you after that. So the least I could do to show that is just give you one of the most valuable things Chaldea has to offer after a Holy Grail, right? And," Vy paused almost for extra effect, exposing some teeth with another smile. "You can't eat udon out of this cup!"

"Vy..." A few blinks revealed mist starting to form in the corners of Musashi's eyes. "I..."

"Oh. Silly, silly Shii-chan," Vy giggled, shaking her head while reaching over with one hand to grab one of Musashi's own, gently depositing the Chalice in her limp palm. "When will you get it through your head that even if Humanity turned its back on you, I'm not gonna? There's no other reason I would've Grailed you otherwise. I love you."

Musashi felt her nose seize up before she was tossing the Chalice aside to tug at Vy's mantle sleeves. The young woman was yelping, a bit of snot may or may not have started forming somewhere, but it was something once Vy was safely nestled in Musashi's front. "You... You really are stubborn, aren't you?" Musashi wasn't sure if she was laughing or sobbing. She still kept a hand on the back of Vy's head, holding her close while wrapping her other arm around Vy's waist. "What is a swords practitioner supposed to do with a little riceball like you, Vy?"

Thin arms carefully wrapped around Musashi's back in return, being careful of the many straps keeping her swimsuit together as another giggle echoed between them. "Just take the affection, Shii-chan," was the warm whisper in her ear, Vy's figure shuddering underneath Musashi's arm, most definitely from standing on her tiptoes to meet Musashi's height. "If we're all riceballs, it's hard to see the pickled plums on each others' backs. I can see yours and remind you it's there, at least. It's what friends do."

"That so..." Musashi ducked her head to press her cheek against the top of Vy's hair, barely able to keep the hitch in her voice away. "Then that's the same for me, Master. My little riceball."

Even if her Saber self was the one who came up with the nickname first, it was fitting.

Riceballs were the most simple and tasty offerings from Japanese cuisine. And with her thin arms and short stature, Vy was an example of one of the best. Tiny, but plentifully packed with the nutrients of stubbornness and love.

[snowbazzledestielshipper]

"You can't keep running off into every adventure you lay eyes on, Snow." He snarls.

It's the first time he's called me Snow in ages, and it stings, but not as much as his next words should.

"You're going to get yourself killed, you don't have magic to protect you anymore."

"You called me Snow…" I say, feeling something shatter in me.

Baz freezes for a moment, realizing what he had done.

"Wait, simon-"

"'S ok." I turn away, and start walking.

He catches my hand.

"I'm sorry. I was worried, and frustrated, and I hurt you."

"You haven't called me Snow for a long time."

"Please forgive me."

I nod, and turn towards him only sort of taking his words in. My ears are ringing.

Baz gasps.

"Simon…" There's fear in his eyes. Why? "Your magic-"

He coughs, cutting his words short, but it brings me back to the present.

I smell of smoke.

My smoke.

My magic.

"I-" I magic away my tail and wings, and take off my coat, rolling my shoulders.

"Simon." Baz breathes.

The world starts spinning, but all I can think about is kissing him.

So I do.

He pushes me away.

"Simon, how did this happen? What did you do?"

"I didn't-"

"Magic doesn't just come back, Simon! What did you do? Where were you?"

There had been an attack on a care home.

He'd been just down the street, in a shop buying milk, and I had tagged along, but I went off on my own to buy coffee for Baz and tea for myself, when it happened.

I felt the magic leaking from the building, and then the explosion happened, and knocked me off my feet.

I blacked out and everything was fixed, except for a little boy, lying on the ground.

I left before I could see what happened. I have been close to disaster like that before.

Usually I was the one who caused it, but still, I didn’t want to stick around and get into a bad situation.

I must have looked dazed, because when I found Baz, he took one look, and started in on me.

I tell him as much.

“Simon, you beautiful idiot, the humdrum. That was him. He’s here.”

The boy.

“Darling, he’s dead.”

“You saw him?”

I’m certain it was. I nod.

“Christ.” He whispers.

“I know.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I dunno Baz. The world is saved, the Mage is dead, the Humdrum is dead. I don’t want anything to change. I think I’m going to get a job, take you out to dinner, and then go visit Shepard and Penny later this week.”

“So nothing changes?”

“Nothing.”

Then he kisses me.

[other-cullen-ficrecs]

I can't choose so... angst 8 or comfort 8 XD Adoribull ofc, but you already knew that <3

8. “it hurts.” & 8. “i promise i won’t be mad.”

A true hurt/comfort ask ;) Also, I see you're all giving me prompts that can be easily about Dorian leaving but I already wrote one of those so nah. (PS this one will also be edited later, I just wanted to finish those prompts before falling asleep.)

_______________________________________

"Vishante kaffas! What is wrong with your leg?"

"It hurts," Bull groaned, stumbling despite being help up by Krem and Grim.

"That much seems rather obvious!"

One leg of his hideous pants was stained dark with drying blood and the leg underneath it had to be severely damaged, considering how wobbly it was. Bull was clearly trying to put as little pressure on it as possible and he was moving it oddly as if not fully in control of it.

Dorian looked past him, glancing briefly at Krem who deftly avoided his gaze and settled straight on Stitches.

"We did what we could. Got a mage to help through the worst of it. He will live."

"<i>He will live?!"

"And keep his leg," Stitches assured as if that was so much reassuring when Dorian was just waiting for Bull to meet him as agreed for a few weeks of a romantic get-away.

Dorian planned nice dinners, good wine and passionate nights, not being glad that Bull was only slightly ripped apart.

"... Bring him into the main room, I'll take care of it."

"Hey! I'm fine, don't worry too much about it."

"So help me Maker, make this any more difficult and I'll cut off this leg myself."

"Love the fire, big guy, but you have no idea how tempting it sounds right now."

Dorian only rolled his eyes and led the Chargers and their leader into the cottage. Bull's shuffled slowly, mixing the rose petals spread carefully on the floor with the blood and mud from his shoes.

"Shit, I'm sorry, Kadan," he said as he finally gathered the breath after being put in the armchair in front of the fire.

The Chargers barely nodding at Dorian before slinking away hurriedly. Clearly worried Dorian's wrath will focus mainly on them. He could've sworn Krem had to turn into a rogue for long enough to disappear back out of the door.

"We will camp nearby, next to the river. I will check on him tomorrow, but if anything happens-"

"You will be the first to know."

"Well, I'd like to think I'd be the first to know, after all-"

"No one finds you amusing," Dorian informed him coldly and Bull surprisingly fell silent.

Stitches only nodded and left the house, following the rest of his company.

Dorian pinched the base of his nose, praying for some patience.

"If I promise I won't be mad, will you tell me what happened?"

Bull squinted at him suspiciously.

"Are you promising or saying you could promise?"

"Bull."

The man only sighed, finally dropping the jovial act of an unruly patient and unbeatable mercenary.

"So, there was this dragon-"

"For the love of the Maker, I'm gonna kill you myself!"

"Definitely only saying you can promise then."

Bull sighed in defeat as Dorian only glared at him for a long moment.

"You can't go off fighting dragons, Bull! I know you hate the idea, but you're not getting any younger! You can't be mercenary until you're old and wrinkled! Definitely not the kind that fights dragons! I'm not saying you need to give it all up, I- I know how much it means to you. But we've talked about it, haven't we? About giving more leadership to Krem? Settling down a bit perhaps? What a wild idea!"

The Iron Bull chuckled, carefully stretching his legs, leaning tiredly into the cushions. He looked beat and exhausted but happy for some reason, smiling at Dorian softly. At the moment looking more like a love-sick kid than a weathered veteran.

"Stitches gave you something good for the pain, didn't he?"

"Yeah," Bull agreed with a smile. "I'll be good though, don't worry. I talked with Krem. I will settle down. Just had to kill that one last dragon, Kadan. I'll tell you all about it later."

Dorian rolled his eyes and went to the kitchen to fetch their food. He figured they could at least still enjoy that.

[utilitycaster]

Bladesinger requires a totally different playstyle. To really take advantage of it you have to play really selfishly, lots of self buffs and the like. If played right you can be invincible and put out damage that matches fireball every turn for free, but one crit will kill you. It's definitely different, I think it's a subclass that is almost an entire class by itself. You won't lament that you didn't choose a different subclass because you're barely playing a wizard in the first place

With the caveat that I haven't played bladesinger this actually doesn't sound like what the problems are (other than needing to play really selfishly, which is also, for me, a complete dealbreaker: I don't want to play that and I don't want to play with or DM for people who play like that).

The class gives you armor proficiency and one one-handed melee weapon. The bladesong, additionally, boosts your AC by your intelligence mod (which is presumably in the +3 to +5 range at levels 2 and up), increases your speed, grants advantage on dexterity checks, and a bonus to con saves to maintain concentration; it later lets you attack twice or attack once and then cast a cantrip.

Here are the problems as I see them:

1. Zero attack or damage buffs until level 14. Everything is defensive. This isn't bad and indeed it's very necessary but compare to like, a hexblade, who can use charisma as their attack stat, or a swords bard who gets a fighting style with mild damage buffs and who can use flourishes to boost damage. Those classes also get medium armor proficiency rather than merely light and already have a d8 hit die.

2. You only get the benefits of the bladesong when the bladesong is active, so if someone crits on you not only do you go unconscious as you said; you wake up and your AC is lower and your con bonus to concentration is gone. Now, this is comparable to say, the rage mechanic, but the crucial difference here is barbarians have a trillion hit points and you do not, and also they get equal or more rages than a bladesinger gets bladesongs per level. Oh by the way: Mage armor AC is 14+dex, 8 hours, no concentration. Standard Light Armor is 11+dex, so the net effect of the bladesinger benefits is a cool +2 AC for up to 6 minutes a day at level 17 or higher. Granted, you can get enchanted light armor but that costs money and you're (checks notes) a wizard.

3. The Dex check ability is rarely useful in combat; dex saves would have been. So that's nothing, unless you want to burn a bladesong during a skill challenge.

4. You're a melee wizard, so Int and Con better be good. Probably isn't great to dump Wis too much because a hold person will kill the bladesong and also probably you, although your proficiency means you could stick a 12 in that stat and hope for the best. You need good dex or strength for weapon attacks; probably pick dex unless you are dressed to the nines in enchanted light armor which again, ok wizard with no discounts to certain schools. In other words: unless you rolled like an absolute dream - and to be fair, I have done this - you are getting grappled every damn day. Oh also good luck fitting in the warcaster feat with all those stat needs, again, unless you rolled very well or took variant human from the start.

5. Unlike a hexblade or valor bard, who can in fact build themselves as a ranged fighter with little issue, you really can't without dropping or not using the bladesong, ie, your core class feature.

In short: I actually don't see how it boosts your damage. It does boost your AC by a lot and offer a buff to con saves but honestly mage armor + the warcaster feat +mobile are almost as good as the bladesong features and they don't have the weird conditions.

Now, there is a way around some of these issues, but it is slightly silly: drow bladesinger with a hand crossbow (since drow get that proficiency as a racial ability). It's a one-handed weapon, but it's ranged and unlike daggers you don't need to run in and pick it up when thrown. You can stay far enough away from melee to avoid things like grapples or the worst of attacks, while still getting the AC boost from any ranged attacks from others. And because you get no damage bonuses predicated on you being in melee? It doesn't really matter! The one downside is you do sort of need to exclusively fight outside of bright sunlight, although you're a wizard, just use AOE/saves/teammate buffs in sunlit fights

[secret-engima]

So you're done with Chapter 1, okay. Oof the next two pre-chapters will reveal a lot more about the Abyss Order. I'll try to keep any questions about Genshin pre-chapter 2. I've asked this to a lot of my friends but I kinda wanted your opinion. Is Monstadt lesser for not having their Archon guide them for years like Liyue, or do you think them greater for being able to thrive without it

Yeah, I have *some* spoilers for what's coming up with the Abyss Order, but I do appreciate not having any more.

Hmmm. That depends on what you mean by "lesser" or "greater"?

If you mean like- economically, then clearly Liyue is standing tall here, because it's shown to be this trade hub of the known world, it's bigger, it's got more vendors... but honestly that is not entirely (possibly not even mostly) because of Rex Lapis. Yes he gave advice every year and was clearly influential in its founding and protecting it until it found its feet in those early years, but Liyue is in a very advantageous place, geographically. Even without Mora having magic to influence it being the universal currency and without Rex Lapis there to guide- in a setting without Archons, I can still easily see Liyue becoming a powerhouse economically just because of location and resources. Not that Monstadt clearly hasn't also done very well for itself, considering they have valuable resources to export (wine, and its implied their meat product is something special if Xiangling would go all the way to Monstadt to personally get some).

But setting aside economics, I do personally think Monstadt is ... more durable. More adaptable. They've had, at best, bare minimum guidance from Barbatos, to the point where they cannot take someone seriously if they claim to be their Archon, they don't even think it a possibility unless proven otherwise. Yet they are strong, they are thriving. They have their businesses, their city is in an easily defensible place, and while we get more quests involving the Abyss Order causing trouble in Monstadt than Liyue (so far), we also see that Monstadt has it *handled*. They treat the Abyss Order as this- dangerous but almost ordinary annoyance. Like people in the high mountains going "ah yes, avalanches" or people who live in swamps going "beware the crocodiles". Abyss Mages running around are dangerous, and the knights take it seriously, but you don't see anyone panicking or being more than just- kinda annoyed that "oh look the hilichurls are trying to build a fort on the road. again" Supernatural stuff happened with Stormterror and people were honestly more upset about all the mess they had to clean up than going OH NO. DRAGON. SOMEONE SAVE US.

When trouble comes, Monstadt mostly just rolls with it, picks itself up and keeps on trucking.

Meanwhile in Liyue, the moment they think their god is dead, the whole city goes a wee bit bonkers. The authorities panic and try to find who "killed" him, the Adepti even debate *smiting the city* for "letting it happen", and it's clear that the head council (can't spell them for the life of me) kept Rex Lapis's passing secret until the last minute to avoid people straight up panicking. While I personally think Liyue will be fine so long as they figure out how to keep producing Mora without Rex Lapis there to spawn it, some of the in-game dialogue makes it clear that the citizens just- don't know how to handle the thought of living in a city that isn't being guided by their Archon. Even in stuff like contracts and business deals and what product will sell best this year.

Like. People. You have brains, business training, and 3,700 years of history to take examples from. Figure it out. You'll be fine.

So tl:dr while I think Liyue definitely benefited from having Rex Lapis around to guide their founding and early years, I think at this point that guidance turned into over-reliance well before Rex Lapis was like "imma retire now". And if I had to pick a city I would feel *safer* living in? Honestly I'd move to Monstadt. They've had their stuff figured out for a while now, and they don't constantly need an immortal with a (possibly questionable) grasp of politics or money (looking at you mister "i never have Mora on me even tho I literally make it") to tell them what to do or how to fix a problem.

So yeah I do think Monstadt is "greater" for having learned long ago how to pick themselves up and deal with problems themselves instead of sitting there waiting for a divine dragon to go "sell the apples, they'll do good this year" or something.

Does that answer the question? Idk if that answers the question but there we go.