#they get a happy ending so its fine

[dat1angel]

To the Victor Goes the Spoils

Somehow, by the watchers or fate or whatever twisted gods threw them into these games, not only had Jimmy not died first, but he had made it to the final two. Not that Jimmy would know how momentous the feat really was, the losers never remembered. But Scott did, and god he was so proud of his husband. Even if it meant that Jimmy was currently staring him down, calculating how best to kill him. 

It had come down to the two of them. 

The two of them. Always the two of them. Flower fields and hand built wooden walls and a pair of houses dug into stone across from each other and poppies and nights spent in warm arms and that stupid misspelled pufferfish and green then yellow then red red red–

It had come down to the two of them. They had decided to bring themselves down to one hour each and have a fair duel. Whoever died first would be out of time and whoever remained would be the victor.

That’s how they came to be here, facing off in the same place Bdubs and Skizz had their fight on day one, armor tightly fastened and swords gripped in hand. Eyeing each other as they looked for weaknesses and waited for who was going to make the first move.

It was Jimmy, impatient and impulsive, who made the first strike, lunging at Scott and swinging at his left side. Scott raised his shield, blocking the attack flawlessly, and returned a strike of his own. Jimmy tried to dodge but wasn’t fast enough, his arm getting grazed by the edge of Scott’s blade. He hissed in pain but shook it off, going for a second try at landing a hit on Scott. This time he succeeded, managing to make a gash in Scott’s shoulder. Scott let out a shout of pain and took a few steps back. Jimmy saw this and continued to keep the pressure up, taking a step forward for each of Scott’s steps back. Scott threw his shield up, trying his best to keep from taking further damage.

Jimmy’s sword swung towards him. Scott braced for the hit and, when the sword collided with the shield, pushed upwards against the force of the attack. Jimmy was knocked off balance and suddenly Scott had the advantage. Scott pushed and struck, the offensive suiting him well. Jimmy blocked and backed up, trying to get a break from Scott’s relentless attacks, but he was struggling. It wasn’t long until the opportunity Scott needed presented itself. Jimmy stepped back but his foot slipped and he stumbled. He was off balance and vulnerable to attack. Scott could do it. He could strike right now and take the win. But…

Scott hesitates. Because in that moment he was no longer facing down enemy Jimmy of the Bad Boys but his husband, Jimmy of the Hobbits. Gone were the shades resting on his face, leaving warm brown eyes shining up at him. His leather biker jacket was replaced by a Captain America suit. The sight stole the breath from Scott’s lungs and in that moment he just couldn’t bring himself to strike.

Jimmy, however, had no such qualms, taking advantage of Scott’s moment of hesitation to thrust his sword forward and straight through Scott’s chest. Scott gasped and slowly looked down at the wound as blood began to drip down his front then back to the man whose hand still gripped the hilt of the offending weapon.

Something they don’t tell you about these death games is that you don’t have to be the last one alive to be the winner, you just have to be the last one not fatally wounded. If your opponent has suffered an injury that they cannot recover from then you are crowned the victor regardless of if said opponent has actually passed yet. After all, with no way your opponent can survive their wound, what difference does a few minutes make? What happened next, Scott recognized both from experiencing it in Last Life and watching it in Double Life. 

A warm golden glow began to emanate from Jimmy's chest and slowly spread outward to engulf his whole body. The glow then began to migrate upwards, towards his head and then above it, finally coming to rest as a crown perfectly fitted to Jimmy’s head. Scott couldn’t help but feel mesmerized. It was one thing to experience it, but it was a whole other thing to see it happen. He was broken from his trance as a regal chiming of bells sounded throughout the world, officially announcing the game’s end.

The effects of winning weren’t over for Jimmy just yet, however. To an observer, Jimmy now stood there, staring ahead but not seeing as his eyes lit up that same golden color from before. To Jimmy, it was like living a thousand lifetimes all at once. He was overwhelmed as his mind was flooded with sounds and images of him. Him and his friends. Allies, lovers, enemies, strangers. A blonde haired imp, their life forces bound, a ranch, goat horns, burning, wardens and revenge, dying first. Further back, a group of five, walls and towers made of cobblestone, spy-glasses, trust circles, breaking trust, being exiled, dying first. Further still, cyan hair, poppies, promises, cottage homes in a flower field, burning a red banner, alliances with the desert dwellers, a pufferfish- no, a pufferish, a bunker, explosions, dying first. Dying first and leaving him behind, grieving and alone. Jimmy shuddered back into awareness and he was finally released from the trenches of his mind.

Scott, staring into his lover's eyes, could see the moment he remembered. Watched as confusion, then realization, then horror flashed across his face in waves as he processed the new memories, looked at the scene in front of him, his husband, the sword in his husband's chest, his arm holding the sword, and realized what it all meant. Scott simply smiled, even as tears welled in both of their eyes, and brought a shaky hand up to gently cup his husband’s cheek.

“There you are, Petal.”

That was all it took to send them both crashing to their knees, Jimmy’s hands coming up to grip Scott and holding on as if he would be gone if he let go for even a second.

“Poppy,” Jimmy’s voice was watery, “Oh Scott, what have I done?”

“What you had to,” Scott’s voice was quiet as the last of his strength began to seep away from him, “What I wasn’t strong enough to.”

“Oh Poppy, I’m so sorry-”

“Don’t be,” Scott poured as much conviction as he could into the words, “If this is what it took to get you back? I would do it again a thousand times over. I don’t regret this.”

Whatever response Jimmy was going to give was cut off as Scott began to fade. His skin became pale and see-through and Jimmy’s grip began to slip through his lover’s arms.

“No!!” Jimmy cried out as he desperately tried to hold on tighter to his husband. “ I just got you back, I can’t lose you again!”

Scott smiled and let out a weak laugh, “I’ll see you on the outside, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

With the last of his strength, Scott pushed himself up to bring his husband into a kiss. Jimmy let his eyes fall closed as he sank into the lip contact, enjoying their first kiss in far too long. When he opened his eyes again he was alone.

Jimmy choked on a sob. His arms that were cradling his dying lover just seconds prior came to wrap around himself as he screamed and cried and cursed at the unfairness of it all. The spectral victors of the past watched on in sympathy.

Jimmy remembered what Scott had said, though. I’ll see you on the outside. He scrambled to pull himself together, fumbling with his server directory in his haste to return to the main hub. Upon arrival he searched frantically for his husband, but he was nowhere to be found.

~~<*>~~

Smajor1995 has joined the server

Jimmy froze when he saw the notification. Before he knew it he had taken to the skies and was flying as fast as he could towards Chromia, leaving the build he was working on half finished. It had been a week since the end of that infernal death game and Jimmy had not seen hide nor hair of Scott. The most he got was a claim from Martyn saying that his teammate had spawned in the hub and was immediately approached by some people wearing NoxCrew uniforms. They had exchanged a few frantic words then dragged Scott off somewhere. From what he gathered, nobody else had seen Scott after that either. Until now, that is.

Jimmy could feel his heart pounding the closer he got to the colorful empire. He landed with a stumble, taking some damage as he was too frantic to bother with the slowing technique. He immediately took off, running through the empire looking for a glimpse of that familiar shock of cyan hair and the explosion of color that was his clothes.

“Scott?” Jimmy called as he ran, “Scoooott? Sco-”. Jimmy cut himself off as he finally laid eyes on the man he came to find. Relief crashed over Jimmy in a tidal wave. A week of worrying and thinking up worst case scenarios put to rest at the sight of his husband safe and sound in front of him. 

“Scott!” Jimmy cried, launching himself into a sprint towards the man. Scott barely had time to turn towards Jimmy before he was being barreled over in a hug. Scott wasted no time in bringing his arms up to wrap Jimmy in a hug of his own. They stayed like that for a while, just holding each other close and taking comfort in the proximity.

“I’m so sorry,” Scott spoke into Jimmy’s chest, “I didn’t mean to just disappear like that. There was an issue with MCC and they called an all hands on deck and I tried to tell them I had to wait-”

“It’s okay,” Jimmy cut off Scott’s rambling, “You’re here now, that’s all that matters”

Scott lifted his head to meet Jimmy’s eyes.

“I love you,” Scott said with insistence, like if he didn’t say it in that moment he would never get another chance

“I love you too,” Jimmy replied and with the same level of insistence Jimmy pulled Scott into a kiss. It was enthusiastic and desperate, like Jimmy was a man drowning and Scott was air, and when they parted they were both slightly panting.

“God, I missed you.” Scotts voice was watery.

“I’m sorry for forgetting.”

“That wasn’t your fault, there was nothing we could have done about that.”

“That doesn’t change that I left you alone for so long.”

“I’m not alone now.”

“No, you’re not,” Jimmy smiled, “and I’m never leaving you alone again.”

[chatlote]

If you wish to go, Do I have the right to ask you to stay? Guess not.

[bamsara]

Also why did July become of the most busiest, hottest and most expensive month of my life

I need August to become boring as shit. No more shit happening to me, no more emergencies, no weddings, no birthdays, no health scares, no more heatwave, no more social obligations, no nothing I just want to stay home, make stickers for my life blood aka patreons and write fanfiction in an air-conditioned space PLEASE

[luck-of-the-drawings]

POOR GABRIEL MONTEZ! YOU NEVER SAW THIS COMING DID YOU? ALL YOU WANTED WAS POWER. SECURITY. SAFETY. & THATS EXACTLY WHAT YOU GOT! JUST IN EXCHANGE FOR YOUR BODY. LETS JUST HOPE NO ONE FUCKS THIS UP. LETS JUST HOPE YOU WONT HAVE TO CLEAN UP THE MESS.

[ymeisli]

happy gay month i drew codywan as the lovers tarot card + i got attached to the strawberry mana doodle i have a version where hes just in the corner

[bugeyedfreaks]

I bought the comic! 💖

I have a couple of my usual little minor nitpicks (as I am want to have), but I don’t even want to get into them because there were so few and they didn’t impact my enjoyment of the comic all that much. I thought it was super cute!

I won’t spoil anything in case anyone’s interested in buying it for themselves (which, I would say… yeah, buy it, totally!), but what I appreciated the most– especially since this is the first issue and it’s establishing who the girls are for anyone not super familiar with them– is that the girls end up saving the day together. It shows the importance of them not just being heroes, but also being a team (and also being supportive sisters, which… 🥹🫶) and that makes me feel like, even on a basic level, they get the characters. And that’s reassuring! Yay!

[happistar]

"Father said that this world isn't for me // I tried to pray for a new reality"

---

HELLO I just had to draw @zalliafawn's guys over at @pitiful-sermon-ask and @pitiful-host!! LOVE whatever the hell is going on with those two. <3

[moeblob]

What Deacon thinks: what did that mean? did he want me to wear a collar too? why else would he mention my neck? i mean, if he /asked/ me i would wear one but he didn't so would wearing one be weird?

What Ymber meant: It's nice to be near someone who isn't tethered to this world to serve it with a physical reminder for all to see.

[triglycercule]

ok horror didn't go through all the different hundreds and thousands of resets that dust (and killer) went through sure but like. he went through something id consider pretty similar???? because through 7 years there HAD to have been a plethora of humans falling down into horrortale like we can see the countless amount of people that died there in toriel's home or in blue snow or in grillby's or even just that first human that aliza hides behind when she first enters snowdin!!!!!!!

and (i dont really know where this rant is going i will not lie 💀) horror (the prick he is) has to see all these humans he has to meet them and introduce him to all of them and at what point does it just turn into routine for him?? they all just blend into one skin colored bipedal figure and the only important part of them are their insides (which i could go on and on about how gross that probably is 🙁🙁) and how them eventually all fall to their deaths

everyone in horrortale is far too gone to particularly care anyways if aliza wasn't so smart and lucky (plot armor SMH) nobody except horror and paps would probably remember her name. and horror would only remember to add a name to the list of "spices" that are in papyrus's spaghetti and then forget it all again. it's all just an endless cycle of human falls down and eventually dies. nobody in horrortale cares enough (if the human doesnt make some sort of big event happen like how aliza stood up to undyne (i doubt snowdin monsters gaf about her b4 that aside from eating her)) and in the end theyll just turn into food again and then the cycle repeats. its kinda like a reverse dusttale (❓❓❓) where instead of the monsters dying over and over to the human's hands it's humans dying over and over to horror's hands

and now that i've established that 🤓👆 time to tie the trio into this! i mean technically dusttale is a loops of both those things happening with the human killing the underground over and over and then dust killing them in the end??? so i think both dust and horror could relate to that?????

a repeated cycle of a human entering the underground and eventually dying,,,, feeling everything go back to a fixed state (literally with dust's resets and a bit more metaphorically with snowdin not caring all that much in horrortale)

having to start off disgusted with killing and then eventually learning to find enjoyment in it (likely because satisfaction of death is the only reprise from the repetitive slog and boredom that is their aus),,,,

somehow feeling guilt for everyone in their world because of what you've doomed them to by your own hands but also being over it and having grown apathetic. theyre still alive. dust sees his underground alive all the time and so does horror his underground's still (mostly) alive. but dust's underground doesnt survive longer than a few minutes now when they see eithe him or the human (so does it even count as life or is it just a barely fufilled light snuffed out) and horror practically already considers them all dead men walking and theyll all probably die one day anyway with how things are in horrortale so whats the point in even trying and doing something fufilling when everything is so so so shit??? (on dust's end this next similarity is ambiguous :3)

& also what they did to their respective papyruses and how they feel??? ik horror probably feels like shit for tricking papyrus into eating humans but he did the right thing (in his eyes. his EYE). he made the right choice to trick him even if it was bad it was the only thing he could do to help snowdin (sure as hell better than undick's choice to try and use him as cannon fodder for the core) and dust i feeeeel would have a similar thought process. papyrus shouldnt die he doesnt deserve to die but its what needs to be done. he's giving papyrus the longer end of the stick by killing him because its better than being killed by the HUMAN. he doesnt like it but he does it anyway because its what "needs" to be done!!! more similarity,,,,,,, esuaghhhh mtt parallel,,,,,,,

how many more similarities can i milk out. i dont know but anyways i doubt they'd bother talking to eachother about their feelings on this because gawddamn these guys and vulnerability!!! horror wouldn't tell a soul (especially not some freak version of him that killed everyone with some cheap excuse that it was to save them from some freaky human that dust swears he should remember but doesnt. but for the sake of this rant just pretend they dont know about eachother's lore :3) about what he did and what happened in horrortale because THATS HIS BUSINESS!!! dont stick ur head into stuff that youre not involved in PRICK he never gave permission for dust to know that

and dust wouldn't tell either because (i think!!! this part is just me fanonizing dust's reason necessary for this part of my silly horrordust rant. also obligatory "this is all my fanon interpretation of them" because i ran out of space in tags) he doesn't think horror would relate nor would be care. he's gotten too used to not telling anybody what he's doing or why or explaining himself to those he knows and loves back in dusttale so why would he even tell any of that to some random stranger with his only connection to him being that they both used to be the same person b4??

he wouldn't horror wouldn't and they both live in not so blissful ignorance about eachother and just how similar they are. or maybe they only know surface level and make up assumptions and stereotypes because they dont care enough or simply just dont have any attachment invested into eachother to want to actually think things through

TRIGLYCERCULE THIS IS TOO LONG I DIDN'T READ!!!!!! ok 🤣🤣🤣 tldr horror has many parallels and similarities with dust that would only be realized by them if they got self aware enough (which like. when is that ever happening). maybe if they cared enough and liked eachother enough they'd probably bond over their shared similarities,,,,,,,, aka by hunting down horrortale frisk

[theadventurek9]

My week has finished out with more just bleh feelings about training. Just a pity party down below so nothing important

I am stopping doing any training on retrieves with Ryker. I will give him a month or so off and see if I can start it again after, if not maybe it will have to wait until he gets out of adolescence. He shuts down the moment I grab the dumbbell or the PVC I had been using, or if I say "take it".

He is really really handler sensitive. Which is a bit surprising and I am really going to have to learn to adapt. Aayla is a little handler sensitive, but not like this. It makes things so frustrating and then I spiral down and things are just hard.

I think this is getting compounded by the fact that I'm seriously debating retired Aayla from obedience. Her avoidance to sitting at the last trial just has me worried about her hips. She DOES do no-sits when feeling stressed or there is too much pressure. Which the judges were doing a lot of pressure during the whole weekend. Yet the amount she was refusing to sit was embarrassing and has me worried its physical pain versus stress.

We got 0 utility Qs and therefore 0 UDX legs and her two qualifying open runs had such poor scores she got 0 OM points. The whole weekend did not progress her to those titles I want her to have...and I would like to retired her from AKC sooner than later. Maybe I should just give up. Getting her UD was amazing and she has had fantastic runs, but I am not going to trial her for two more years to get those titles.

I also decided Aayla will not do anymore agility. I had thought maybe the ASCA senior ACE program would be okay, but if she is struggling in obedience there is no way I'm making her do any agility.

I always thought I would go back to AKC rally after I stopped having her jump 20" for obedience but if sitting is bothering her than rally isn't fair for her to do either. That's a lot more sitting.

She isn't ready to retire from training or sports, I know it. She is getting upset more and more if I don't work her when I'm working Ryker but I'm getting to this point of what can I have her do that isn't asking her to do things that possibly hurt? Do I work her because it makes her happy and accept if she says no? Will she say no? I doubt it, unless it really hurts.

I'm going to be taking her into the vet within the next few weeks, might get some hip x-rays and ask about adequan and anything else we can maybe do.

I hate this. So much. It's breaking my heart. I worry that her body is going to give out on her long before her mind is.

[vani-ash]

I support Nons wrongs

[mirrortouchedsea]

dark. that was all he had ever known. cold, dark, damp. the boy shivers in the small room, painfully alone, only a book and his magic to keep him company. he tries not to use his magic very often, though. it seemed that the people above knew when he used it and they always always always refused to give him food until he “woke up” next, if they bothered to keep track of that. maybe this time he’ll learn their lesson. the boy whispers his spell, cur memini, and creates a small light in his fingers. this is the only spell he can cast safely, too small to be noticeable by the people above. he holds his hand over the fading book on the floor. the boy can’t read the letters on the page, but this book has pictures. he flips through it again, careful of the pages that were falling apart, admiring the figure in armor who always comes to rescue the figure in the tower, cut off from the world, just like him. the boy frequently dreams of a figure in armor coming to save him, despite the years he has spent alone. dark and cold and damp. 

the room the boy lives in, the only room he has memories of, is empty besides himself and the book. sometimes the people above would give him water and stale bread to eat, and then there was a cup and a dirty plate, but otherwise it was just the boy and the book. the boy knows why the people above have locked him away, they told him that he was a freak of nature, unnatural, dangerous. but the boy could only make lights in his palm, and that wasn’t very dangerous at all. he thinks to himself that the people above are the dangerous ones, locking away a child for something like this, but he can’t say that out loud. he doesn’t want to die again. 

the boy’s stomach grumbles and he curls in on himself, the light in his palm fades out. he longs to see the sun again, to play with the other children he can hear through the ceiling, to be normal. the people above must have decided to punish him again, though, as he doesn’t remember the last time he had anything to drink, to eat. his stomach would eat through his skin and he would still wake up the next day. why can’t he just die once and for all and be rid of the pain? why is the world keeping him here? why was he even born?

the boy closes his eyes, and falls asleep. maybe this time it won’t hurt so much. 

--- 

how long has he been here? the boy doesn’t keep track of time. he knows he’s died at least a dozen times, but how long does it take for a dozen lifetimes to pass? 

--- 

a clattering on the floor wakes the boy up. the people above decided he can eat today. stale bread and water again, but better than nothing to the boy. he crawls closer to it, listening to the door. it closes and the voices disappear. where was the sound of the lock? did they forget? 

the boy scarfs down his food and water before tiptoeing up the stairs. he doesn’t hear any voices, but he needs to be careful. he doesn’t remember what the above looks like, but he needs to leave. he needs to be free. 

slowly, quietly, he opens the door. it’s dark on the other side of it, but still much, much brighter than his room ever was. he closes his eyes but keeps the door open. breathe in, and out. opens his eyes again, blinking the brightness away. pushes the door further open. steps on the hard ground outside the door. he’s so close. closes the door quietly. turns around and holds his breath. where was outside? pick a direction and go. his legs hurt. turn the corner, listen for voices. voices are dangerous, get away from the voices. whisper his spell, create a small light. keep moving keep moving keep moving. window ahead. break it? open it? is he strong enough? lift the window up. too weak. voices coming. hurry hurry hurry must get out now. whisper spell again, hand on window. break the glass and jump through it. cuts on feet cuts on legs deal with that later. voices getting louder voices shouting. run run RUN. 

the boy runs away from the building, away from his room. freedom is so close. first get to the trees, then… he hasn’t thought that far, but he will find a way. gunshots from the house. he runs faster, must get to the trees, must hide, must be free. cur memini, he whispers again, crossing into the forest. his spell can make lights and now break windows, but he needs it to protect him at this moment. run run run until the voices are quiet again. his legs are giving out, but he needs to run. he can’t die now or they’ll find him. keep running. bare feet on sticks and stones and sharp things, everything hurts but he can’t stop. he keeps running until the sun comes up. his heart beats out of his chest. 

--- 

when he wakes up he doesn’t know how much time has passed. his heart beats fast and he sits up. did they find him? he looks around. trees, rocks, a gurgling stream. he’s free. he’s free. he sighs and lays back down. how far did he run? he needs to go further. away from other people, away from anyone who might lock him up again. he sits up again and forces himself to stand and walk towards the sound of the stream. he can start there. water is important, and he might be able to get food from the little stream too. 

his first drink of the stream water is icy cold, quenching his lifelong thirst in just a few swallows. he washes his face with it, removing years of sweat and grime. he wants to sit by the stream forever if only he could, but the people will find him eventually if he doesn’t keep moving. but he allows himself a few minutes to bathe in the water, savoring the feeling of water on his skin. his stomach still growls, wanting something more filling than the freezing water of the stream, but that would have to wait. he needs to get his bearings. 

the light of the outside world is almost blinding, he realizes. the sun and the snow made it almost impossible to see anything. he should get up above the trees. can he even do that? cur memini, he says, trying to get his voice to be louder than a whisper. his feet float a few inches above the ground. he closes his eyes and says his spell again with more conviction. Cur Memini. he feels himself shooting into the air before he opens his eyes. he can see the forest stretch out for miles around him. trees covered in snow in every direction. if the old house is behind him, he should fly straight ahead, towards the forests on the mountains. tentatively, he leans forward and focuses his magic on keeping himself afloat. 

it doesn’t take much to exhaust what little magic he has, but he’s put more distance between himself and the old house and the people above now. he should be safe to rest, truly rest. but first he should find something to eat. is there anything to eat out here? something in his head tells him to look a little closer to the ground. to his left. there’s a bush full of berries. he’s never had anything but stale bread, and doesn’t know what to expect as he crushes one with his teeth. 

the sensation overtakes him for a brief moment. the berry is sweet, yet tart, and delicious. it’s the best thing he’s ever eaten and he thanks the little voice in his head for the information as he picks several more berries from the bush. the juice runs down his chin and makes him sticky, but it feels good. he feels truly alive for the first time. 

once he’s finished picking the bush clean of its fruits, he needs to find a place to rest, to stay warm. he’s shivering in the intense cold of the north, but it’s nothing he isn’t used to. the room was never very warm after all. he listens to the little voices calling out to him, guiding him towards a small cave, instructing him on how to make a small fire to warm himself up. a small rabbit brushes against his leg and he swears one of the voices is coming from it. and with the fire going, he thanks the rabbit before it hops away back into the snow. he would be roasting that same rabbit over the fire a few months later. 

the boy can’t stay in the cave forever though. as days turn to weeks turn to months, he worries that the people above are getting closer to him. they’ll put him back in that cold, dark, damp room again. he needs to keep moving. he has been practicing his magic, casting stronger spells, and he needs to be ready to fly. it's been long enough. cur memini he says holding his hand out. a rough stick with twigs tied to the end flies into his hand. it’s a poor excuse for what he understands is a broom, but it will work. he climbs onto it and focuses. cur memini cur memini cur memini. he lifts off the ground and watches as the branches of the trees get shorter and eventually he passes above the treetops. 

he takes a moment to gather his bearings. he no longer remembers the direction the house was in, but going up is his best bet of staying away from the people above. he laughs, realizing that he is the one above them now. after a moment, he flies into the mountains. the small voices change into bigger, unfamiliar ones as he gets further into the mountain range. they tell him to hide, to stay away. he doesn’t listen. they cannot be more dangerous than the humans he is running from. 

the boy lands, still exhausted from using so much magic, but he was able to travel further this time. that has to count for something, surely. he gathers some sticks and looks for another cave to make his home in. the caves remind him too much of the room he left, so he chooses to stay close to the entrance, close to the light that reminds him he is free. the fire keeps the animals away, but the voices are curious about the new presence in their woods. they make him curious too. he should stay in the cave tonight though and regain his energy. maybe he can get some small game to fill his stomach before settling in for the night. he listens for a rabbit’s voice, or maybe a squirrel, anything that would be small enough to kill with his hands. 

at last, a small fox’s voice is heard nearby. he wonders if fox will taste different from the other game he’s eaten thus far. he lifts a hand-sized rock and slinks out of the cave towards the voice. it takes a few minutes to find the source, but the fox is curled under a tree, shivering, hungry, just like him. the boy hesitates before bludgeoning it and slinging the corpse over his shoulders. there are more foxes. he is much more important. 

the fox is only the first animal he hunts in those mountainous woods. he spends several years in that forest and eventually humans settle up there as well. the boy, or rather, the man now, has made a name for himself amongst the human populations of the north. he is no longer afraid of humans capturing him and locking him up. they are still terrified of him, but now he is in control of that terror. the hunters that left his territory alive whispered tales of the great wizard owen who inhabited the mountains and terrorized anyone who had the bad luck of running into him. 

all of this is perfectly fine with owen. eventually his reputation will grow beyond himself, encapsulating atrocities that were impossible for even someone as strong as oz to commit, but that would be a problem for future owen. for now, he is still young and living in his cave on the outskirts of a small village and scaring hunters who stray too far from their boundaries. the wolves don’t like these visitors either and gladly listen to owen’s lamentations. it keeps his hands clean of the bloodshed if he isn’t casting the spell himself. the wolves don’t care for owen either, but they respect him. and that is enough for owen. 

the first of the unwanted visitors was a young man, someone who wanted to provide for his family. he pleaded with owen and the wolves to let him go and he wouldn’t cause any problems. those pleas fell on deaf ears though as owen looked the man in the eyes. won’t your family be disappointed, he asked almost innocently, you don’t have anything to show for your efforts. the man stammered a response, they’d rather i come back alive with nothing than die trying to find food. is that so, owen reached out for the man’s chin, the distance between their faces was almost nothing. y-yes, sir, please just let me go and i won’t bother you anymore. owen grinned. oh i’m sure you won’t be causing us any trouble again. the wolves stalked out of the woods, drooling at the prospect of tearing a piece of that man for themselves. owen snapped his fingers, and they came running forward, only to stop mere inches from the now trembling man. there was a suspicious yellow stain in the snow beneath him. p-p-please sir, anything you ask, it’s yours! then make sure you tell the rest of your little village that this forest belongs to the great wizard owen. the man ran off, leaving behind a hunting rifle and a ratty sack. the rifle would be of use, but the sack became tinder for his fires. 

despite the warning from that first man, hunters continued to enter into owen’s territory. and one after the other, they ran off screaming with their tails between their legs. this should have annoyed owen, that people would ignore all of the warnings and stories that had started popping up about him, but it doesn’t. their fear feeds into his magic power, only making him stronger, and that is all fine with owen. he is no longer a weak child locked in the damp, dark basement, and he never will be again. 

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

i only just found your au and i need everyone to have a happy ending so badly im gonna cry ;-; sally is gonna be so freakin upset when she wakes up for real and sees she decimated barnaby.

oh, Barnaby already has his arm stitched back on when she wakes up! and really, even if he didn't, that'd be the Least of her worries. she wakes up into a Real nightmare - partially of her (unintentional) making

[sysig]

Anime good :) (Patreon)

[stop-breaking-my-heart-dragonage]

This week on "CJ needs to gush about DAO": Morrigan's dark ritual.

I adore Origins because depending on how serious you take roleplay, every decision you make is a thread that leads back to your origin, and in this case of the ritual, who you choose to romance can have a major impact on how you handle this choice.

For context, my canon run is with a female Tabris who romances Alistair and keeps him as a Grey Warden, and is close friends with Morrigan. It's more in character for my Tabris to reject Morrigan's ritual and not even bring it up to Alistair, which would result in her leaving him behind while she makes the ultimate sacrifice in killing the archdemon... however, agreeing to convince Alistair to do the ritual with Morrigan is the only choice in the entire game where I break roleplay because I'm selfish and weak and I want Tabris to live.

I have a lot of strong feelings about the ritual, like it hurts me. It makes me want to chew on furniture. I can talk about it until I can talk no more. I so badly want to be strong enough to remain in character and reject the ritual.

Let me explain: Tabris survives an origin that deals with sexual assault. She gets kidnapped on her wedding day, she watches the other kidnapped women and her husband get murdered, and then is too late to save Shianni from being assaulted... and Tabris carries that trauma with her throughout the entire game.

If the way to save her life is to ask the two most important people she cares about; one being her lover and the other being her best friend; who she knows hate each other, to have dubiously consensual sex in order to make a baby to absorb the old god soul... she's saying no. The last thing Tabris would ever do is put someone into a sexual situation where consent is at all dubious after what she saw happen to Shianni and nearly happened to herself. She'd rather die than force that upon Alistair and Morrigan.

That's what I mean when I say origin affects everything; I know some will side eye that with "Really? Your warden would rather die than let Alistair sleep with another woman? It's one time, and Alistair agrees to it, so no one needs to die?"

Let me be clear in saying this isn't a "Morrigan slept with my man" issue. Sure, that part's awkward and it sucks, but that's not even breaking water tension, let alone diving into the deep waters to the core of the issue.

For my Tabris, this is about betrayal, consent, and accepting fate.

The person offering Tabris this deal is someone she thought of as a trusted friend who has actually been lying to her the entire time. It doesn't matter what Morrigan's intentions are now or if she genuinely wants to save the wardens. She knew from the beginning why Flemeth sent her with them, she admits as much. She knew a warden would need to make the ultimate sacrifice and then leveraged that to get what she wants. Morrigan waited until the night before, when Alistair and the warden learn one of them has to die to defeat the archdemon, and took advantage of the high running emotions and possibly the fear of dying to make the warden agree to her ritual.

At least, that's how my Tabris interprets this confrontation. She feels betrayed by someone she came to love like a sister and went out of her way to help Morrigan with her mother upon learning what's in Flemeth's grimoire. And then that someone tells her no one needs to die, she just needs to convince Alistair to sleep with her... which is a huge fucking problem.

The Alistair and Tabris romance is slow; it took a long time for either of them to be comfortable with being emotionally vulnerable and trusting each other with basic intimacy, let alone sex. Tabris is mortified at the idea of putting Alistair in this situation. Not only would it feel like a betrayal on her part to ask that of him, but she knows the last thing Alistair ever wants to do is father a bastard who then goes on to grow up without him. How could she possibly ask him to do that?

Then you consider that ritual or no, there isn't a guarantee that they'll survive anyway. Say they do the ritual and Tabris dies anyway; she made Alistair sleep with Morrigan in order to save her and then she died anyway. Or if Alistair dies then Tabris gets to live with the fact that the last person Alistair was with was a woman he hates because she asked that of him… and either way, Morrigan gets to walk away with what she wanted.

Tabris led the group, and she's accepted that if Riordan dies [which he does] then she'll be the one to make the sacrifice, even if it means breaking both hers and Alistair's heart.... except she doesn't because I'm a coward who doesn't want to lose her because my worldstate isn't good without her in it but I also refuse to lose Alistair so I just pretend it plays out differently in my head it's fine-

But... that's how I play Tabris and view the situation. My friend @pi-creates and I have discussed the dark ritual at length. While I play a Tabris who romances Alistair, Pi plays a Mahariel who romances Morrigan, so we have vastly different interpretations of the ritual itself and Morrigan's intentions.

Which yeah, it makes total sense that someone who romanced Morrigan with a different origin, and has the option to do the ritual with her rather than asking someone else to do it, wouldn't see this the way I do.

To quote Pi: "Playing as a male warden in the Morrigan romance makes the whole situation feel different, and maybe it’s because she’s presenting it differently due to the emotional connection, but it feels more like she’s opening up about her initial instructions (that she had been given by Flemeth) and offering a solution to avoid the possibility of death. And for my Mahariel, the constant threat of sudden death has haunted him from the start – he caught the blight and was ripped away from his clan (something he did not want to do in the slightest), got forced into a Grey Warden ritual that could kill him, was forced into a battle that could kill him, going on this whole quest that he never wanted but has now become responsible for regardless of his thoughts on the matter… the dark ritual may be one of the few moments where he is presented with an option to decide if he wants to walk into certain death, or take actions of his own volition to stop it.

"The idea of the ritual still feels like a dodgy thing to do since the ultimate outcome is unknown at that point, he’s taking Morrigan at her word that it will save the warden and that this child would be unharmed, just with an old god soul that she isn’t exactly clear on why she wants that and is determined to runaway immediately after the battle to secure it properly. It could be interpreted that it’s purely a preservation thing, but I’m biased to wanting Morrigan's intentions to not be power based.

"But also, taking part in the ritual isn’t as outlandish for my warden since he and Morrigan have already been involved in an intimate relationship. It’s the future of the ritual that is scarier – the idea of this old-god baby, and the idea of Morrigan insisting that she’s leaving afterwards when Mahariel and her have a loving relationship. He’s hurting, but he doesn’t want to die, he doesn’t want Alistair to die, he doesn’t want Morrigan to leave, he definitely doesn’t want pregnant Morrigan to leave on her own… it’s complicated, but for completely different reasons."

And I find that fascinating. I want to know how other players approach this part of DAO, what origins they play, and who they romanced. Seriously, this is an invitation to anyone reading to share their thoughts.

What about a warden who doesn't even have Alistair in their party because they made Loghain a warden? Is there anyone out there who has Loghain do the ritual with Morrigan and why? What about male wardens who don't romance her? Do you choose to do it with her anyway, or do you ask Alistair or Loghain to do it? Do you tell Morrigan to fuck off with the ritual? Why? Who makes the ultimate sacrifice in that case? And what about Morrigan herself? How do you interpret her intentions/motivations? I want to know.

I'm telling you, this is a discussion that gets me excited, as most discussions about DAO do.

[anxiously-sidequesting]

So I don't know if it was ever revealed how Duncan felt when we killed Malistaire all three times but I'm wondering if maybe some part of him could hate us for that too. Like you hear that and you go "but why. Malistaire was terrible and even Duncan knew that(?). Why would he hate you for getting rid of him."

But like I think it's so....... interesting in a very, very, very sad way how Duncan so easily latches onto anyone who directly feeds into his delusions of grandeur. And that's no fault of his own that he was manipulated by the nasty Schism but when you think about how desperately clung to the idea that Malistaire, easily one of the greatest necromancers any of us had ever heard of (at that time), somehow actually recognized Duncan's talents (even when canon supports that Duncan wasn't all that talented, at least no more than the next necromancer) and then praised him for it so often that Duncan believed that he would be the next Death Professor is. I mean ☹️

So like with that mindset I unfortunately feel like it would be quite easy to twist even Malistaire's death as something that's horrible and awful and all our fault. ESPECIALLY if the Schism was feeding into Duncan's already broken mind and shattered ego and was constantly telling him that everything bad that ever happened to him ever in his life was Our Fault. That's like a realistic conclusion that someone like Duncan could come to

And like, at this point in time, are Malistaire's crimes even a factor in how he thinks????? Was Duncan ever able to separate Malistaire's talent and skills and prowess from the terrible and awful things he did? If Duncan wasn't able to consciously tell that distinction in the first place I can't imagine it would be any better during the years he was being manipulated and isolated and lied to

Like in Duncan's mind it probably isn't, "maybe I shouldn't idolize a national criminal, or idolize anyone at all for that matter, and aspire to be like someone so harmful when I can recognize my own talent and build from there" it's probably more like, "you (the wizard) permanently got rid of a brilliant mind, an innocent person who just made a few mistakes, and someone who believed in me no matter what just so that you could be the better than me and loved by everyone else" and that's! very sad actually!