#they have to take in mana to survive

[the-red-thread-that-strangles]

It tugs, sometimes. Curious and foolish.

That traitorous heart mana of his, reaching out, drawing in, seeking connection in the way that's in their blood, their soul, their nature. Synchronicity.

Rei's not known it, before.

Where other demons might be attuned to family, Rei has no one to claim the spot. So, his heart mana sings, unblemished, its lonely little sonata, the song of his homeland. All there is to him, granted by air and earth and starlight.

He has so much to give, and yet, it isn't good enough. Discordant, they say. Human, they snarl, disgust evident in their tones.

Thus, growing up Rei learns to compose himself. Pushes himself to the brink in order to rewrite his heartbeat's melody. Puts himself out there, gets stronger, richer in experience, whenever he draws back. Over and over and over again.

Until one day, pushing himself past reason, he almost doesn't return.

But while he hasn't been looking, a new melody has taken residence by his side. Soft and steady high notes, barely perceptible.

Morofushi Hiromitsu, faded, yet giving himself so generously.

Rei hears him, takes him in and amplifies the notes he's given, until others may do so, too. Until Hiro may do it himself.

Their hearts mana, separate but inseparable, resonating in response.

And Rei's called back home.

.

Rye is low notes, a deep bass, slow and steady.

He could enrich their harmony, if only he wasn't so gratingly offbeat.

Rye's unrefined and ever-contradicting himself. Cold and uncaring, yet bleeding red like the rest of them. A long-ranged combatant, always too close. The smartest fool Rei ever has had the displeasure of meeting.

He takes Rei's heart mana greedily, gives it back tenfold.

Then he takes Scotch's, and their tentative song, not yet given voice, dissolves into dissonant whispers.

.

When they meet again, Rei doesn't want to feel Akai's heart mana for the longest time.

It's too painfully familiar, echoes of the past still trapped reverberating within. Misery-in-resonance almost dusts Rei.

It's his duty to be here, and so he stays, but there's others to preoccupy himself with.

So, he remains a careful distance away from Akai. Doesn't see the muted melancholy wrapped around him until it's too late, until Akai's almost gone dark and quiet.

When he heals Akai, he pours all of his heart mana into him. Their hearts still sing the same tune, after all these years, discordant notes and all.

.

The journey is too perilous to allow them senseless grudges. Their lives are one. If either falls, the story ends.

They rely on each other's mana like air, sharing desperate breaths like drowning men in a land that wants to drag them under.

What even is left of their individual songs? It doesn't matter, anymore. They've shared so much it really is one and the same, disjointed notes smoothed out through time and touch and trial, into an elegy for Scotch.

.

As they finally reach tentative harmony, they rip themselves apart.

.

There is dissonance in Demon Lord Furuya’s heart. A furious ache that even Hiro's return can't soothe.

But he has a duty, to his land and his people. He can't stop to rest. Besides, the one to replenish his heart mana, he who's grown so good at it over the years, has left, exiled by Rei's own hand.

Akai is a fool, but so is Rei.

He clings to the thrum of Akai's low warm notes, barely an echo within himself.

.

Da capo al coda, the cyclical rhythm of life remains the same.

Rei's still not good enough.

He's bested their best. He's saved the realms. And all that matters, in the end, is that they see his heart mana, and find it lacking.

But he's no longer the lonely manaspawn he once was. His song no longer just his own.

He's holding the position through skill and strategy, through force of personality. With the help of friends and allies gathered on his journey.

They'll have to listen to his tune, this time.

.

The key, of course, is an argument.

Their feverish crescendo crashes into mellow adagio - along with their lips.

Rei knows, then: if no one else accepted him, the boundless love in Akai's heart would be enough to supply his heart mana for as long as he lives.

It's exhilarating, to share every last bit of himself, to accept all of Shuuichi in turn. Synchronized in full, for now and as long as they live.

Pulsating, between them, the potential to compose a new melody, together. Point and counterpoint. Bright and warm and vibrant and home.

.

When he takes Akai's hand, leads him to the dancefloor, the festive joy of friends and family soaking the ambient mana with joyous ringing, it's enough to put pressure even on Rei's heart mana.

He can't help thinking that this should've been so much easier. But theirs has never been the easy way.

And it's not the conclusion, but the overture to their new life, together.

The waltz of their future, a thunderous symphony.

.

@floofiestboy's Demon King Furuya AkAm AU is giving me too many feelings. Go read it here.

[genderqueer-karma]

guys can i talk about that fucking guy. clap if you think i should talk about that fucking guy.

(accidental ramble in the tags. oops. don’t read if you don’t want to read a crisis.)

[lesbianralzarek]

its possible that your deck(s) were designed to do (or you were taught to do as part of this tutorial so as to not overwhelm you) what mtg players refer to as "playing solitaire", which is when you play cards at one another without caring about whatever is going on on your opponent's side of the battlefield. "solitaire" is a derogatory term due to how wildly unfun it is in nearly everyones opinion to both play against solitaire strategies and to pilot them. the fun part is interacting with your opponent and trying to 1) disrupt them and 2) outmaneuver their disruptions

as an extremely general example: control decks (esp ones with few low-curve creatures) struggle to weather the storm of low-to-the-ground aggro decks in the early game, but if they do manage to stabilize the boardstate after turn 4, they usually win. while aggro decks tend to prey on control, control tends to be combo decks worst nightmares, as a few well-timed counterspells and kill spells will completely dismantle fragile engines. there are a total of 5 major archetypes and hundreds of regular archetypes and thousands of specific strategies within an ever-growing list of formats, so im just gonna stop myself there

as a more specific example of a very common type of situation: imagine its turn 4 and youre playing a monogreen stompy deck in standard. your opponent has 5 cards in hand, and has put down their land per turn every turn, giving them 4 total mana in the colors of white and blue. they have two small creatures on board and have played a single removal spell against you. next turn, you technically have lethal even if they chump block your two biggest creatures, but if they remove even one of them or play another creature, youll be a bit short. you have an additional creature in hand that, if put on the board, will threaten lethal damage next turn even if they have a removal spell for your biggest creature. should you play it? well, it depends on the deck youre up against. you can likely come back from a single removal spell putting you back one turn, but a boardwipe would wreck your whole shop. is that why they havent put many creatures in board, or does their deck just not play many creatures? are you familiar with what cards are often played (and in what quantity) in the kind of deck youre pretty sure your opponent is piloting? if your opponent took a mulligan and has drawn 2 additional cards (other than one per draw step), that means theyve seen 1/3rd of their entire deck at this point, and if theyre playing 4 copies of sunfall, theres a solid chance that they have at least one of those in hand. can you afford to run the last creature you have in hand (but not in your whole deck, theres always the possibility that youll draw more) out into a boardwipe? but with the odds against you increasing the longer you wait out against a control deck, can you afford to not take that chance? what cards do you think, based off of your knowledge of the cards in the format and the way your opponent is behaving, they have in hand? this isnt even accounting for the possibility that they have a counterspell or some flash creature (or both) being held up right now, or that they might draw more removal or a boardwipe next turn even if they dont have it right in hand right now. additionally, might they be bluffing and actually have nothing in hand? if you pass turn without dropping anything, will they know that youre bluffing? does that change anything with the specific strategy your deck is going for?

thats the fun part imo

our boxing class was cancelled for the holidays so my friend taught me how to play magic the gathering instead

i kind of hate it?

it felt like it was just playing itself once the deck was built. do the things you can do, end your turn, rinse, repeat. it has the illusion of complexity with the long-ish skill descriptions and different effects, but at the end of the day that's just homework to learn the rules, then it plays itself.

would love to hear from people more experienced to tell me why i'm wrong

[ohbo-ohno]

run until you feel your lungs bleeding (ghost x reader)

summary: You're on the run after finally escaping from your abusive husband's clutches, hitchhiking south along California highways. A strange man in a black mask picks you up, and it doesn't take you long to realize that not every hand offered should be taken.

word count: 6.5k

cw: dark fic!, noncon somnophilia, referenced abuse from a past partner, ghost does not care about reader's feelings, mentioned drinking while driving but no intoxication

read on ao3 - see the pinterest board

One of your blisters is about to burst. You’d worn through your only pair of clean socks yesterday, leaving the back of your heel vulnerable to your old tennis shoes and their vendetta against your feet. You can feel your skin rubbing thinner and thinner with each step, know it’s only a matter of time before you’ve got blood flowing freely into your shoe. 

You keep your left arm stretched out, thumb held up in the hope that someone will take pity on your limping form and give you a ride.

It’s not likely, you’ve been hitchhiking for days now and not a single person has slowed down. You’ve got no real destination, just a goal of putting as much space between you and your piece of shit ex-husband as possible. Your end goal is Arizona - you’ve got an aunt somewhere in Scottsdale, if you can get to her you can only hope she’ll help you get back on your feet.

A few people honk as they drive by. In the two days you’ve been walking, none have stopped. You take short power naps at night off the side of the road, pray to every god you can think of that you don’t get run over or eaten by something.

You haven’t yet. But you know if you don’t get a good night's sleep soon, don’t start putting actual distance between him and you, then you might not survive your escape.

The sun is at its apex when the semi-truck pulls up beside you. It’s black, the trailer attached is plain white with no logo painted on. You can hardly believe your luck, gape up at the massive thing as it slows. The door pops open a moment after the truck rolls to a stop, but it’s so high up that you can’t see who’s driving past their hand - gloved - before they pull it back.

You don’t have the luxury of asking questions. You just stumble over, flinching back with a little hiss when you place your palm on the metal of the truck and burn your hand. It takes a minute to finagle your way into the truck, but you manage it eventually, huffing and puffing all the way up. 

The first thing you notice about the man in the driver’s seat is his size - he’s big. Bigger than any man you’ve seen before. You just reach his shoulders even with both of you sitting down, his legs are spread so wide his knees nearly rest on his door and the gearshift, his head is close to brushing the roof. He’s just… big.

He’s wearing a black neck gaiter pulled up to cover his mouth and nose, which strikes you as odd considering he’s driving on his own, but you brush the thought off. His hair is blond, greasy and limp on his scalp, you doubt he did more than run his fingers through it getting out of bed. His eyes are blue, a light shade that surprises you for some reason. You don’t know a thing about this man, certainly not enough to be surprised by anything about him, but the blond hair and the blue eyes… it doesn’t quite fit with the black gloves and the mask.

He’s reclined back in his seat, one hand resting on the wheel and the other on his thigh, eyes scanning you like a king his subject. His eyes linger on your tiny shorts (sleep shorts, what you’d been wearing the night of your escape), skip right past the sluggishly bleeding scrapes on your knees and scan your ratty backpack.

You hope he won’t ask you to empty it. You’d like to keep your gun for as long as possible, can’t imagine this trucker would be ok with the hitchhiker he just picked up having a loaded weapon.

He doesn’t speak when he finally makes eye contact with you. You can’t hold it for long at all, only manage a few seconds before you’re glancing around his truck.

He doesn’t speak. Neither do you.

His car reeks of smoke. There’s a beer bottle in his cup holder, open and helf empty. There are more bottles - empty - by your feet. He doesn’t have the radio playing.

When you look back at him, his eyes are already trained on yours. You can’t help but flinch - the intensity of his gaze feels suffocating, even after only a few seconds of being held under it.

You work up the nerve to speak, take a few deep breaths and a few more long looks around the truck, the space this man spends most of his days in.

There are cigarette stubs on the dashboard, which has clearly been used as a makeshift ashtray. The seats are old, the leather peeling and tempting you to pick, and the dash itself is sunbleached.

“I’m trying to go to Arizona,” you finally say, flickering your eyes quickly to his and away again. His jeans are worn - but naturally worn, like he’s had them for months and washed them so many times they’ve lost their color. “Are… are you heading that direction?”

You look at him long enough to see him incline his head a bit. You don’t think he’s blinked since you got in the car.

“Goin’ south,” he affirms. His voice is a low grumble, British accented. Not necessarily unsurprising to hear in California, but a shock from a truck driver. “I’ll drop you somewhere along the way.”

He pulls away from the shoulder with that and turns away from you, apparently finished with the interaction. 

Being dropped somewhere along the way isn’t necessarily your ideal situation, but your feet scream in relief at the lack of pressure, so you’re certainly not going to complain.

You shift a little further back in your seat, tuck the backpack between you and the passenger door. He could reach it if he wanted, but keeping yourself between this stranger and your prized possessions feels like the right choice. You think about propping your feet up on the dashboard, but decide you don’t want to seem too rude to your apparent savior.

You look out the window. You’ve never been in a car this high, and even the flat California highways look more interesting at a new vantage point. It’s easier to focus on the far-off mountains than the giant beside you.

“So,” you cough lightly, awkward in the relative silence of the truck. The engine is loud, but the driver’s radio is dead silent. “What’s your name?”

He grunts, gives no other response. You glance over to him, a little unsure of yourself. Had you made that bad of a first impression somehow?

He doesn’t turn to you, and he doesn’t answer your question.

Alright, you tell yourself. Maybe he does this all the time, maybe he’s tired of making small talk with homeless and desperate hitchhikers. That’s probably it.

You don’t give him your name. Instead, you tuck your feet up to the seat beneath your thighs, turn your body fully to the passenger window, fold your arms on the windowsill and lay your chin on your elbows.

The drive is smooth enough for you to relax, even though you know that logically you shouldn’t. You’re a young woman who’s just gotten into a car with a strange and intimidating man who could very clearly physically overpower you. Nobody knows where you are. You should have a hand on your gun already, ready for anything the driver might try.

But you’ve been walking for days, and hadn't been sleeping well before that either. You haven’t had a good night’s sleep since your wedding night. The low rumble of the engine, the heat of the sun beaming through the glass, the surprisingly gentle motions of the truck…

You don’t quite let yourself fall asleep, but it’s a near thing.

———————————————————————

The two of you stay like that for hours. Your benevolent driver seemingly comfortable in his silence with you drowsy and relaxing in his passenger seat. You don’t stay in the same position for more than an hour or two at once, shifting your legs and always keeping any pressure off your feet.

You’d like to pull your shoes off, to ask if the man has any band-aids. Maybe any food, any water. But you can’t risk pissing him off, not when your other options are nonexistent. So you settle for slow movements, trying to keep your blisters from being irritated.

He finishes his beer before the first hour has passed with you in his vehicle. Waits another two to have a second. You don’t comment on it, but the scent makes your lip curl, and you bury your face in your arms to hide the reaction. You hope he’s not a lightweight. And despite the heavy stench of cigarette smoke sunken into the interior, he hasn’t had one yet. 

He’s the one who speaks next.

It’s a quarter until 6, and the sun has started her slow journey to sleep. You’ve been watching the sight for a while, entranced by the slow process with nothing else to amuse you.

“Pullin’ off,” he grunts.

You can’t help but jerk up straight at the sound, caught off guard. You’d nearly forgotten about his accent, about how deep his voice really is.

“For gas?” You ask, turning in your seat to glance at him for the first time in at least an hour. He only grunts again, a noise you’re just going to assume means yes. 

“Alright,” you nod, letting your feet drop to the floor from where you’d crossed them beneath yourself. “Are you… do you want me to find someone else to ride with?” You cross your fingers where you tuck them beneath your thighs, pray to every god you know of that he doesn’t make that yes grunt again.

He looks over to you this time, and the two of you make eye contact for the first time since you’d gotten into the car nearly six hours ago. His eyes are brighter than you remember, and the impact of them sends a jolt up your spine.

You’re not sure how long he looks at you. You feel stuck under his gaze, a little wide-eyed prey animal spotted by a predator who can only lay still and hope they move on. You’ve never felt quite so pinned before, quite so unable to break eye contact. You don’t think you like it.

He looks away first, shifts in his seat and drops one hand from the steering wheel to lay on his thigh. You swallow at how tight his jeans are, how his thighs seem to nearly bulge from them. 

“No,” he finally answers. It takes a moment for you to remember your own question, but your sigh of relief is loud once you do.

If you’re lucky, he’ll try and drive through the night. Dangerous, since it’ll make for nearly twenty-four hours on the road, but you’d rather take your chances with him than falling asleep at the wheel then spend another night staring into a dark forest and wondering if there are wolves in this part of the country.

He turns off the highway three exits later, pulls his truck into the first reststop. It’s the only structure in the nearby area, a McDonald’s-Subway-Shell mix with ten pumps, less than half with someone using them. It’s the kind of rest stop you’ve seen on countless roadtrips, one that you know exists off half the exits in the States. The familiarity of it makes your lips twitch up in the corners.

There are several other semi-trucks pulled up getting gas, none quite the size of your driver’s. He parks quickly and easily, in one try, and turns the truck completely off. You shift a little in your seat, unsure what he’ll want from you, but he’s hauled himself up and out of the truck before you can open your mouth to ask.

You settle a bit. He’d said he wouldn’t make you leave but you still can’t fully relax for some reason, can’t bring back the looseness to your shoulders you’ve had since he picked you up. You entertain yourself by watching a middle aged couple try and wrangle six kids that look like they’re all under ten, since I’m sympathy when the littlest one’s face goes red and he starts to wail.

The door next to you opens without warning. You manage to catch your bag before it can go tumbling out of the car, can’t hold back the little yelp of surprise. Your eyes are wide, fingers holding tight to the bag, when you look up through your hair.

The driver’s face looks the same as it has for the last six hours - expressionless. Even with the mask, surely his eyebrows should move at least a bit? He looks almost like a corpse above you - pale face and flat features. It unnerves you. 

“Gettin’ food. You got money?”

You hesitate for a moment - you do have money, small bills you’d snuck from your husband’s wallet that you’d planned to use for a bus ticket. You’re not starving yet, the few granola bars you’d taken in your escape will tide you over for a little while longer.

You shake your head.

He nods, like he’d expected that, and glances over your form from head to toe again. “Alright. You want somethin’ to eat, now’s your chance. We’ll be back on the road for another few hours before I stop for the night.”

With that he turns away, jumps down to the parking lot and stalks off toward the McDonald’s. It takes you a minute to follow him, still a little shocked that you’d gotten multiple sentences from him at once.

The thought of free food is far too tempting to let you linger for too long, though, and you’re throwing your bag over your shoulders and scampering after him only a moment later. You have to trot a little awkwardly to keep up with his long strides. He doesn’t hold the door open for you, but you catch him glancing over his shoulder to see if you’re there.

The teenager working the register looks like it’s their first day, and you assume a middle-aged man leaning against the counter beside her is meant to be showing her the ropes. He’s far more occupied with whatever’s on his phone screen, leaving the cashier to stare up at your driver with wide eyes.

You get it. Standing next to him now, you decide he’s not big - he’s huge. Has to be at least six and a half feet tall, and at least a foot taller than you. Combined with his muscular form - another odd thing for a truck driver - and his all black attire, he seems almost like some sort of monster or omen come to warn about the future.

You step up to the counter beside him, give the cashier your best reassuring smile when she glances at you. It gives her enough courage to stumble over, “Welcome to McDonald’s, what can I get you today?” after only a few stuttering starts. You’re quite proud of her.

“Five Big Macs and fries. No drink.” The man rumbles, his mask umoving. He glances down at you, finally cocks an eyebrow (an expression!) for you to order.

“Uh, just… just ten nuggets for me,” you smile at the cashier, glance up at the driver to make sure you haven’t somehow ordered too much. “And, uh, a Coke?”

“Will that be all for you today?”

“Make it a twenty nugget meal,” your partner corrects, then pulls a worn leather from his back pocket and pays with a shiny card. You can’t help but eye the many bills folded neatly in the wallet.

“Thanks for the upgrade,” you say as the two of you slide onto a pair of stools to wait for your food. “I really appreciate it. I, uh, I can’t pay you back, though.”

He glances at you again, holds you pinned under his gaze and kicks your heartbeat up a few notches. It becomes a conscious effort to keep your breathing steady when he spreads his thighs enough to brush against yours. 

“Don’t worry about it.”

Your meal is largely silent. He all but inhales three of his five burgers, leaves the other two wrapped up presumably for later on the drive. You try and eat all of your nuggets and fries, but your granola bar diet of the last few days means your stomach feels stretched to his limit only a few bites into the meal.

After your fifth nugget, you tuck the little box closed. Shift towards your driver and glance up from the window you’d been staring out to see him already looking down at you.

You clear your throat, take a little sip of your Coke. “I’m done.”

He shakes his head once, reaches forward to pop the little box back open. “No, you’re not. We’re not getting back on the road ‘til you eat at least half.”

You can’t help but blink in surprise at him, not moving to take any more food. He won’t tell you his name, won’t make any small talk whatsoever, but he will worry about how much you’re eating?

He grunts when you don’t make a move to listen to him, pushes the little brown box closer to you. “C’mon. Eat.”

You get through another five under his eye. He doesn’t look away from you, and now you know about the stare. It feels heavier now, like every little twitch from you is catalouged by him. It makes every bite difficult to swallow.

He nods when you tuck the little box closed again, glance a bit wearily at him to make sure he’s content now. He picks up your tray, tucks his two sandwiches in one hand, and leaves. You scramble to keep up.

His strides are a little shorter in the parking lot this time, and the slower pace keeps your blisters from further irritation. You’re not sure it’s intentional, but you’re thankful nonetheless.

The truck is still difficult to get into, but the worn leather seats are a familiar comfort now. This time, your driver flicks on the radio as he pulls out of the rest stop.

For some reason, you feel like maybe he likes you. There’s something in the line of his body that feels a little softer now, the tension in the truck feels a little drained. It could be the music, but you prefer to think that he’s taken a bit of a liking to you. It means he’s less likely to end up hurting you, means you're less likely to have to rely on your non-existent shooting skills.

With the sun nearly fully set and the soft music from the radio, it’s much harder to keep yourself awake. You curl up in the seat, lay your head down on folded arms, and try your best to keep your eyes open.

———————————————————————

You don’t know how long it’s been when you wake up.

The truck is silent now, no engine and no radio, and the world outside is pitch black. You jerk up at the realization, quickly lay a hand on your bag and turn to your driver.

He’s staring at you. You nearly yelp in surprise, bite your tongue so harshly to keep the noise back that you taste the tang of iron.

He looks nearly inhuman in just the low light of the truck. Pale skin, blonde hair, blue eyes, a dark black mask obscuring half of his face. His body is turned towards you, black shirt and dark pants making him look almost like the top half of his face is just… floating. 

“I need to sleep,” he rumbles, keeping you held captive in what almost feels like a staring contest - like if you look away now, you’ll lose something. “You can take the bed in the back.”

That gets your heartbeat quickening, the thud of your pulse loud in your own ears. “Oh… I thought…” you swallow, finally tear your eyes from his to look around. You seem to be at another rest stop, this one a small dark building with two bathrooms and a few vending machines. There aren’t any other trucks parked around you. “I thought I might try and find a motel or something.”

“With what money?”

He’s got you there. You work your tongue against the roof of your mouth, clear away the blood and try to make your mouth not so bone-dry. “Yeah,” you nearly whisper, eyes darting back to his before away again. He hasn’t moved. You clear your throat before speaking again. “But, uh, I don’t want to kick you out of your bed. I can sleep up here.”

“You’ll take the bed,” he reaffirms, with no room for argument in his tone. You can’t help but feel like there’s something more here, like you’re missing something. You don’t feel safe anymore, not like you had after the McDonald’s. Why did you let yourself fall asleep? You could have pressured him to pull off somewhere with a motel, tried to finagle or scam yourself into a room with a lock on the door.

Now you’re stuck in this dark truck, no one else but the driver around for miles.

You swallow again, force down a cough.

You don’t want to sleep in his bed. But a glance over at him tells you that’s what’s going to happen. Your driver doesn’t seem the kind of man to take kindly to disobedience.

“What’s your name?” You ask again, voice weak and quiet. For some reason, this feels important. Like a name will make him more human, easier to swallow.

He only tilts his head a little, face still stoic. “Get in bed. We’ll drive again when the sun rises.”

“Please,” you try, a hint of desperation creeping into your voice. You can’t explain it, but you need his name. Need some evidence that he’s more man than he looks. This moment feels pivotal, and there’s a little voice screaming at the back of your head that things are going in the wrong direction.

“Sleep, doll,” is all he says. His voice isn’t softer, but it’s quieter, like maybe he understands the fear coursing through you.

You squeeze your eyes shut a moment before pushing yourself up, both hands holding onto your bag - your literal only possible defense againt this man - like a lifeline. You know they’d shake if your grips was any looser.

It’s too dark to make out much in the back of his cabin. The bed is a decent size for you, but you wonder if he’s able to stretch out fully on it. You think you can see the outline of a minifridge and a few books resting on the floor. 

He’s still watching you as you sit on the bed, his body unmoved but his head turned towards you. You try to keep your breathing steady as you toe your shoes off, tuck your feet up to the bed with you and curl up on your side.

The bag doesn’t leave your arms. His eyes don’t leave your form. He makes no move to stretch out and sleep like he’d said he would.

You force your eyes closed, no matter how wrong it feels. You try and will yourself to sleep, tell yourself everything will be fine. If he tries anything, you’ll shoot him.

You can still feel his gaze on you when you finally slip into unconsciousness.

———————————————————————

You wake slowly to movement behind you. 

You blink heavy eyelids open, let them fall shut again when there’s no difference in what you can see.  You feel cloaked by sleep still, like your brain has been held underwater and everything moves a little slowly, a little muffled.

The bed dips behind you, and there’s a warmth behind you. A hand at your waist. The top of a foot against the sole of yours. A chest against your back.

Your eyes stay closed, but your brows furrow a bit. Your husband has always hated the idea of cuddling, slept like a corpse on his back and berated you if you dared to touch him in your sleep. You nearly roll over, but figure that might set him off. Your arms still ache from the last argument you’d had.

The hand slips beneath your shirt, rough palm against your waist, thumb smoothing in little circles.

That catches your attention, too - your husband’s hands are soft. He’s never done a day of work in his life, the only job he’s had is some fake title made up by his father at his company. The hand on your skin isn’t soft at all, it’s rough with big, thick fingers that rest heavily on you.

The realization comes to you in pieces.

Your master bedroom was never this dark, the large windows always left wide open to allow moonlight into the room. Your ex-husband’s hands are smooth, boney and nearing on frail. The foot brushing against yours triggers a burning sensation in your blisters.

You keep your breathing even - an effort that feels impossible. 

It’s not your husband at your back, it’s the truck driver.

He’s silent as he tucks himself fully to you. His breath is damp against your neck and you fight down a shudder at the sensation. 

Your bag isn’t in your arms, which means you don’t have your gun. Whatever happens, whatever he does to you, you have no way of defending yourself.

The only reason you don’t cry at the thought is because you don’t want him to know you’re awake. It’s pure self-preservation that keeps your breathing even, your limbs loose, and your breathing slow.

He brings his head closer, his breathing loud in your ear. Every part of him is pressed against you, and you can’t help squeezing your eyes shut more tightly at the hardness poking into your back.

He’s silent as he sets his chin over your shoulder. His groin is tucked right beneath your ass, his knees behind yours and his feet benath yours. He’s just… spooning you.

It feels like an eternity passes just like that. Your heartbeat pounding in every bone, the heat of the driver’s body against yours. His breath is the only noise you hear, ghosting over your ear, heavier than your own.

Eventually, he starts to move. You almost whimper when you realize what he’s doing. 

He’s humping you.

His movements are slow at first, just a little rock of his hips against you. But as the minutes pass he becomes more incensed, his thrusts harder against you, his breathing heavier. He grunts at one point, and it takes everything in you not to flinch away.

You want to scream. You want to open your mouth and shout, to roll over and make him stop.

But you don’t have your gun. And he dwarfs you, every inch of your back covered by him and then some. You can’t stop him.

So you let it happen. You keep your eyes screwed shut, try desperately to go anywhere else in your head and pretend you don’t feel how quickly his hips begin to rock.

His hand moves from your hip to your stomach, his pinky resting on the waistband of your sleep shorts. You don’t think you could stay quiet any longer if his fingers slipped beneath the hem, and you let out a near silent breath of relief when his palm continues up instead of down.

He almost rolls you onto your stomach, angles you so your front is closer to the mattress and he can grind more on you than beside you. His hand slips further up your shirt, and you bite your tongue at the feeling of his rough palm against your nipples.

That gets another huff from him, another low sound that could almost be a moan. You feel him shift again, his hips working a little more roughly. You’re not sure how he possibly thinks you’re still asleep, but you pray he doesn’t take it any further as long as he does.

He doesn’t pinch, just softly strokes over one breast. His hand engulfs it fully, fingers wrapping all the way around the little mound of flesh. The calluses on his palm send little sparks down your spine, and you curse your body for the buzzing sensation between your thighs.

His breath gets heavier in your ear, he’s nearly panting over you. If you weren’t wearing shorts and he wasn’t wearing jeans, he’d be fucking you. His thrusting almost feels like he is. The… thing grinding against you is clearly large, even through all the layers of clothing, and you say another prayer that he doesn’t do more than this.

“Fuck,” he grunts, his chin pushing hard into your shoulder. You almost jerk at the sound of his voice, the evidence that this is real and not some horrible nightmare. 

You wish you could fall back asleep.

You don’t know how long the whole thing lasts. The pitch dark, the driver’s oppressive weight against you, it makes time feel liminal. You’re not sure if he lasts for five minutes or five hours.

But eventually his hips slow, give a few harder thrusts before he goes completely still and lets out a loud groan. Again, you wonder how he expects you to have slept through the noise. 

He shifts back a little in the aftermath, rolling you back to your side with a heavy hand on your stomach. You try to keep yourself as limp as possible, try to make your face go slack.

He lays with you for a while, breathing even and slow. You wish he would leave, wish he would let you start pretending this never happened. His hand stays on your stomach, and you can feel the other crossed over his midsection at your back. His feet hold your ankles to the bed. You hope he can’t feel that you’re squeezing your hands into tight fists where they rest against your thighs.

He doesn’t leave. Instead, he shifts his own thick thigh between your own, the rough denim of his jeans irritating the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. He tucks his leg up, settles it right against your core.

You can’t help the way your breath hitches at the sudden pressure. You hold it immediately after, then try to breathe normally again when you realize how obvious the sudden change sounds. He doesn’t react, though, so you think you’re safe. 

The pressure increases a bit more before stopping. You’re almost propped up on his thigh, your pussy pressed against him through your shorts. It’s hard not to open your eyes, to look down and see what’s happening.

His hand slips down from your stomach to the waistband of your shorts. You can’t keep yourself from moving this time, already knowing what he’s going to do. You shift your hips a little, make a tiny noise in your throat that you hope comes off as a normal still-asleep sound. The movement only presses you closer to him.

He hums lowly in your ear, fingers stroking across the waistband of your shorts before dipping inside, then past your little gray panties. You can’t help the little squeak you make, the way your hands twitch before you force them still.

The sound he makes is almost a laugh, too low and quiet to really be one though. He hushes you softly, pushes on the meat of your most vulnerable part to still you. 

You don’t know if he thinks you’re awake. You think he must, there’s no way you could have slept through what he’d just done, and you’ve moved twice now. But he doesn’t speak to you, doesn’t become more aggressive.

You debate putting up a fight when his fingers sink lower, his palm resting heavily over your cunt. But the thought of him becoming rough, of him restraining you… it makes bile churn in your stomach.

You resign yourself to waiting until it’s over, go limp against the bed again.

Another hum, and his free hand moves beneath your body to grasp your hip. He moves you slowly, little grinding motions over his thigh. The hand over your heat uses two fingers to spread the lips of your cunt, tucks the gusset of your underwear and the fabric of your shorts to the side so your clit makes direct contact with his jeans.

You keen quietly at the sensation, a little animal noise of fear, of pain. You wish you had your gun, wish you could make this man stop.

But you can’t. So you bear it.

He doesn’t touch your clit with his fingers, doesn’t touch any part of your pussy but to spread you wide. His thigh moves along yours, his hand grinding you against it. You hate the slickness gathering at your hole, hate the way your nipples tighten, the way your breaths become heavier.

You bite your tongue to hold back any other sounds, that tang of blood returning after only a few seconds.

“C’mon,” he says into your neck, his voice a low whisper. “Come f’r me, doll... be good.”

You don’t want to be good, can’t suppress the little whine you make at even the thought. He rumbles low in his chest in response, pushes against you a little harder.

You can’t stay quiet through your orgasm. It’s a slow thing, rolling and deep. You feel it in your toes, in your scalp, and in every vein between. Had you been willing, been with a partner of your choice, you may have thrown your head back and cried out. But here in the truck, with this man you can’t believe you were stupid enough to trust, you squeeze your eyes so tightly shut that tears eek out the corners and bite your cheek until there’s a sore. And still, a moan vibrates in your chest.

He stops grinding you against him when your orgasm is finished. His finges slip from you slowly, tuck your panties back over your mound and give you two little pats before he fully pulls his hand away. 

Both of his hands slip back up your stomach, grab a handful of your chest and massage you there for several moments. Your breathing gradually slows as your body comes down, your limbs going limp again despite the fact that his hands are still on you.

He rolls you to your back when he’s finished. You feel his lips press against each of your eyelids, squeezed shut no matter how hard you try to force your face to relax. Another tear slips down the side of your nose, and he kisses it away before it can reach your lips. You feel his tongue stroke beneath each eye, know that he’s cleaning away your tears. He gives you a final, chaste kiss on your lips before pulling away.

He’s gone a moment later, and you’re left cold and alone in his bed.

———————————————————————

He smokes a cigarette while he watches you sleep. Your nose twitches at the first hint of smoke, and he almost smirks at the expression.

He can’t believe he found you. A perfect little doll of a girl, limping all filthy and sad along the side of a highway, just waiting for someone to scoop you up. God truly does have a sick sense of humor, gifting a bastard like Ghost a gift like you.

He hadn’t planned to keep you at first. He figured he’d ride with you for a while, fuck you a few times to have a warm place to dump his cum before dropping you off at a rest stop for another driver to scoop up. But no, that won’t do now that he’s felt your cunt against his hand, watched you try desperately to hold back every expression because you thought it might keep you safe.

He’ll have to find out where the finger-shaped bruises on your arms are from. After this trip, he’ll find whoever left them and take care of them. He’ll be the only one hurting his little doll, no one else. Might even win him a few brownie points with you, if he’s lucky.

Your feet probably need bandaging, too. He’d seen the redness at the back of your ankles when you tucked your feet up on his seats, felt the blisters against his own feet when he laid with you. He’ll make sure you stay off your feet for a bit, give them time to heal.

That gets another smirk. You won’t be leaving the truck for a long time, there’ll be no need to worry about your blisters after tonight. He’ll keep you off your feet. Maybe have you thank him for taking such good care of you.

He’ll try your mouth next. He bites back a moan imagining your face pressed against his crotch, knows already that the difference in size between the two of you will be absolutely pornographic at that angle. Can’t wait to teach you to deepthroat him, salivating at the image of you holding him in your mouth on the road.

He’d already wasted one load, it’s only right you take the next. You’re his now, which means he shouldn’t have to come in his fucking pants like a teenager ever again. 

But he’d gone easy on you, hadn’t made you take him in any of your holes this first night. Even let you pretend to sleep through the whole thing, though your shifting hips and little scrunched up face gave you away as soon as he pressed himself against you.

It was endearing, really, the way you tried so hard to pretend it wasn’t happening. He can still taste your tears on his tongue, mixing with the acrid taste of nicotine. He can’t wait to learn what your pussy tastes like.

He takes a long pull from the cigarette and considers your little shaking form.

You won’t need much now that you’re with him. Only a few outfits in case he needs to bring you in somewhere, but you’ll be kept naked when in his truck. He’ll have to find a motel sometime soon, get all the grime washed off your skin and the grease out of your hair. He’d like to see it brushed out, see how you might style it for him.

He’ll take good care of you. Feed you when you’re hungry, maybe get some little toys or books if you’re good, fuck you whenever you - or he - needs it. 

It’ll take a while for you to settle, he knows. You’ll spend a bit looking for that girly little gun you’d been keeping tucked away in your bag. But that’s okay. He already knows he’ll enjoy training you, showing you just how to be the perfect little doll for him.

He stubs the cigarette out in an ashtray, climbs back into bed with you and tucks you tight to his chest. Your little sniffling breaths draw another little twitch of the lips from him, and he buries his nose in your hair before shutting his eyes.

Yeah, you're going to be perfect for him.

[starlightdreaming]

Lucifer Morningstar x Reader! Ch. 4!

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel!

Content warning: more blood! *Niffty’s manic laugh* i guess maybe some comfort this time (not from Lucifer lol) also more angst but a smidge bits of it, also LONGESTT CHAPTER YET and small implications of Season 1: Ep. 2 of Hazbin Hotel. (not proofread)

Synopsis: after waking up in hell, you try and find help of any kind.

Further note: I LOVED WRITING THIS CHAPTER SMM U HAVE NO IDEA (sorry it took a while) ENJOY READING MORE THAN I ENJOYED WRITING I!!/! - ✨Lolo💫

Chapters!: Chapter 1 ✧ Chapter 2 ✧ Chapter 3 ✧ Chapter 4 (you are here) •<•)b ✧ Chapter 5

this chapters song is:

(optional but recommended to improve reading experience!!:!)

｡･:*:･ﾟLululuna･ﾟ:｡*:･｡

“Lucifer, do you want to play with the stars with me?” You ask him, him turning to you and taking your hands into his, him looking at you with loving and caring eyes, you looking deeply into his as well, “I’d love to!” He says, dragging you to the oak tree you had agreed upon to be your hangout spot from now on.

You both rolled into the grass together, told stories at night and used magic to display your dreams of creations, everything was perfect, he was perfect, everything felt perfect.

“I never want to see you again,” He snapped, “And I fucking mean it.” He says as he looked at you with pure hatred in his eyes, oh those eyes, once full of love now full of hatred. Your heart began to beat harder as it ached, ‘this whole mess was your fault wasn’t it?’ you thought as your breath hitched, staring at those eyes he gave you, oh how you never wanted to see them again but here you were. You tried to breathe again but you just couldn’t, those eyes were staring deeply into your soul, you just couldn’t find a way to breathe as you began to hyperventilate, your body felt frozen in terror as you stared back into those careless, dull, hatred fueled eyes, breathe, breathe, breathe!

You sit up quickly, coughing out golden blood before gasping for air desperately, coughing out again before regaining your composure, groaning from the metallic taste in your mouth, you looked down at your hand to see the lavender blue star Emily gave you, seeing that was your only comfort now, it was stained in gold blood as well as you winced in sharp pain behind your back, you look at your back to see a lot of damage was done to your wings, golden blood covered all your feathers as you can see the clear cut Sera did, she attacked your two middle wings as they now seemed split, it made your skin crawl from how horrible they looked, you then looked up to the sky, your stars were barely raining anymore stardust, trying to heal your injured state, they began to fade, if it weren’t for the sentient stars you made during the extermination, you don’t think you would have survived the fall.

You looked at your stars with a tired and weak smile before they could crumble away into dust, thankful that your creations saved your life, you then looked at your surroundings, seeing cities in the distance, followed with screams and cars crashing, you sat for a moment trying to endure the pain that was coursing through your body, you held a wing to ease the pain but all you felt was a wet liquid that now covered your hands, more blood. You needed to find help or something but who in Hell would want to help? Maybe you could try and find a place to stay or hide so you could focus on healing yourself, you didn’t have any attributes to regeneration, so you needed to try and find someone or something to stop the bleedings.

You recovered a bit of mana from resting but it wasn’t enough for you to completely focus on healing since you weren’t very good at it, you decided to try and finally get up but your body was so sore you stumbled a few times before you could manage to even stand, you slouched to your side, limping as you tried to walk out of wherever you even were.

You decided to try and seek help in the city, hoping there might be a blessed heart willing to assist you but just a precaution, you made a little bit of stardust and with Emily’s star she had given you, you made it sentient with the little bit of mana you had left, thankful for her gift and her warm comforting smiles.

The little star chimed to life, floating around you, it was your only sort of defense it wasn’t much but it can for sure pack a punch you wanted it to, you hugged yourself as you limped toward the city, a trail of golden blood dripping behind you as your wings dragged behind you. The lavender blue star floating next to you calmly.

Upon entering the city, you expected monsters and sinners to be in chaos but… no one was here. “Hello?” You called softly, walking into the city, the emptiness making you feel uneasy, the star chimed next to you for comfort, floating around you as it kept watch of your surroundings, “Is anyone here?” You called out again more loudly, “please, can anyone help me?” you begged, not receiving a single answer in the abandoned city.

You held yourself more tightly as you walked, leaving a trail of gold as you looked around, high and low, left and right, you’d hear a sudden noise but it the source or cause would be long gone before you could turn around, I guess it only makes sense seeing as you were an angel and it was extermination day to them, the lonely and uncomfortable silence made you feel like an outcast, something you were used to in a way but it still hurt nonetheless, tears formed from your eyes but you tried to not let them escape from how lonely you felt in your situation and once again, you feel completely helpless as you walked down the empty streets, the silence was completely loud.

You wiped your tears as you passed by stores, broken glass and blood, it really showed a difference between Heaven and Hell, it made you wish you were back in your bed for all eternity, it was better than the pain your were enduring currently. You passed by a store full of televisions, you looked at it- it being the only thing that was making noise in the silent city, you watched the screens as it showed a thin waisted lady in red, her voice loud and clear, “Greetings, my name is Katy Killjoy, here to discuss to you about last weeks extermination, after deep analysis and investigating, we can officially confirm it was canceled thanks to an none other than an Angel itself!” She says before it showed a video of you making it rain stardust in stars in Hell’s skies, dragging every exterminator back into Heaven, your eyes widened as you didn’t expect to be shown to all of Hell.

“And thanks to that, we now have more information about how our deadline is cut in half, down to six months! do you know what that means Tom?” She says as she turned to face him, giving him the chance to finally speak, “yes it-“ “it means we are completely fucked!” she shouts through the screen, your mouth agape from shock, Adam and Sera- despite trying to stop them, they decided to continue this meaningless chaos? the thought of Sera ignoring your words, your voice, it made your blood boil unexplainably, especially on how she tried to kill you behind Heavens back.

You were so frustrated and in so much pain because of her, it made you want to cry and lash out at her angrily but trying to kill her back, the thought of killing her made a smile crawl to your face but you shook that thought out immediately, it was not the answer. If you tried to use violence like she did, you were no different than her and that’s worse than the thought of her death. You snapped out of thought to look at the television again, it was another video of you, of how you fell from the sky, you stared in shock again, they really have their eyes on the skies don’t they? It was you falling practically to your death! but that made you realize, oh- they evacuated the city because you arrived.

That alone, made you realize how lonely you are now, no one was going to help you, familiar feeling eh? history just doesn’t seem to stop repeating itself with you. Your head began to ache as your stomach grumbled, all that stamina you had used was getting to you for sure now but there was nothing you could do, you didn’t have food, shelter or any help, there was nothing here in this place of damnation for you. You were pathetically helpless, at rockbottom, completely.

You wiped the tears that escaped, your lavender blue star pressing against your cheek for comfort, it chimed to you, trying to tell you something, you gave it it’s attention, floating toward the window full of televisions, “Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel, where all sinners are welcomed and redeemed, if you want to escape the extermination and get up into Heaven, please head to the building on the top of the hill in the pride ring.” A White haired woman spoke, with other figures who stood there and a glitched out man who was facing away from the screen which was quite concerning- but that wasn’t important, what was important was that they were willing to help and once again, that small sliver of hope reignited in you as you smiled to yourself weakly, you just had to go find that hotel, if they didn’t accept you then… maybe you could just live in a box? that thought made you shudder, not the box but the fact you would be out of luck.

You tried to find the hotel, quickly limping down the streets as you tried to find that said hotel, “Can you help me find it?” You ask your star as it chimed, swiftly floating up in the air, looking around, it wasn’t long before it went back down to you and started guiding you as followed, gold blood still following behind you, you tried your best to keep it together, try to make it to the hotel, it wasn’t much long as you panted heavily up the hill, once upon making it, you collapsed in exhaustion and pain, you sat at the door for a moment to recollect yourself.

It took awhile but the sentient star waited with you patiently and that was enough for you to get back up on your feet, you took a deep breath before knocking, stepping back from the door, hugging yourself in anticipation, shaking a little from exhaustion.

The door opened and you saw a tall blonde female, she looked down and gasped in surprise, “Welcome!- oh- oh my gosh, are you alright?” she says quickly, cutting her introduction off after seeing your terrible state, “Is… this the Hazbin hotel?” you ask politely and kinda desperately, “Yes, yes this is! do you need uh, do you need to come in for a moment? theres a trail of blood coming from you.” She pointed out with concern, “please.” You say weakly and nervously to the stranger in front of you, feeling completely light headed from the blood loss, you felt like you were going to faint any second.

“Oh goodness, just sit here for me okay? I’ll go get something real quick-“ she stammers before running back inside after making you sit and lean on to the door, you waited as you heard the same voice shout “Vaggie!” and “Emergency!” You rested your eyes as you leaned your head against the door, you began to hear static, and it got only louder the longer you had your eyes shut but as soon you opened your eyes the static disappeared, ‘that was weird’ you thought as the tall lady came back and immediately tended to your wounds with another person behind her, you backed away when the blonde tried to touch you, “Oh don’t worry, i’m just trying to help.” She says as she waited for your permission this time to tend to you, her smile was oddly calming and it let you give in as you slowly turned your back, allowing her to touch your wings, the purple female also assisting her, you winced in pain after some places they touched, a “sorry” escaping one of their mouths as they kept going, you all were silent the whole time before the blonde moved to sit in front of you, leaving the other lady to focus on your wings.

“My name is Charlie.” She smiled at you, reaching her hand out for you to shake, you looked up to her, her red eyes staring back at you, “Y/n.” You say as you took her hand to shake, “Nice to meet you, Y/n! Now if I may ask, why were you so injured?” She asked, you looking away, “Oh uhhh, I fell..?” You say not tell her the full truth, she tilted her head confused, “fell? fell from where?” she said confused, “Uhhmm, fromm.. Heaven?” You laughed coyly, as she gasped, “You’re fallen?” She says quietly, “I guess,” pausing now acknowledging that you were actually fallen now, “yeah, I guess so.” you finished, feeling a little ashamed.

“Vaggie, are you almost done?” Charlie asks as she looks over your side to see that she wrapped your last wing up, a tug was felt and you winced a bit, “Yup, finished.” She says after she tied the last knot, Charlie bend down to help Vaggie up before they both helped you up, “Thank you.. for helping me.” You say with a tired smile, your star bouncing on your head, “Oh who’s this little guy?” Charlie says pointing to the star that chimed, “Oh this one of my creations or like a child of mine, same thing.” You say as you put the star in your hand, “I could only make this one sentient because im so tired.” You say, your eyes obviously showed that to them, black circles and all, “Well we can give you a place to stay in the Hotel!” Charlie smiles as she walks in the building, you following after Vaggie but as soon as you stepped into the building, your exhaustion you endured collapsed all at once, making your face plant into the ground with a ‘plomp’

The stared at you in surprise, “Oh, she was that tired.” Charlie responds, walking up to you, “are you alright?” she asks as you just muffled a reply, “foof.” “Uh, what was that?” Charlie asks, turning you to the side, “food.” you say, falling back into place, “Oh, okay just one sec.” She says before getting up to running off, leaving Vaggie to watch over you, she crossed her arms as she stared at you, “So uhh, who’s dis?” A new voice spoke, “Fallen angel, probably same one from the extermination on the news.” Vaggie replied as someone spat out their drink of something, you didn’t bother to get up to look up who was talking, too tired to care, “the hell you mean the angel from da news?” the voice shouted as you heard something rapidly approaching your body but your tiny star pushed them back, launching whatever was going after you, “That thing just launched Niff across the parlor! why are you allowing angels into this place?” The voice shouts again, “Angel, look at her, she’s defenseless, well, except that thing.” she pointed to your star.

Your star stuck to your back, trying to move you but it ended up just dragging you across the floor as everyone silently stared, “Okay i’m back!” Charlie says with a plate of food, walking to you and giving it to you after your star dropped you to the floor again.

You raised your head, resting your arms as you ate on the floor, not caring who’s watching, she also gave you water and that made you feel all the more better, with something finally in your system you managed to sit up, looking up at your surroundings, seeing everyone stare at you in silence, “uhh, hi.” you say awkwardly, with a small wave, as one of then waved back at you.

“Are you feeling alright now?” Charlie asked as you nodded, “Yeah, I just really need to rest, if you would let me please?” You ask as she gave you a hand to help you up, you thanked her as you tried to pat down your tattered dress, it was completely stained with blood from sinners during the extermination and your own as well, “Maybe let’s get you cleaned up?” Charlie asks as she took your hand to help you up the stairs, Vaggie following, “We can introduce you to everyone else once you’ve recovered.” She offers as she guides you down a hall, taking you to a room that was themed with red and black, “you can rest here,” she says as she walks into the room, you following suit along with your star.

You sat on the bed before falling back into it, your sore body finally feeling that euphoric comfort of a bed for who knows how long, your small lavender blue star rested on your head as you stretched a little, feeling your muscles ache, it hurt so bad it felt so good, “Do you need spare clothing or anything?” Charlie asks, Vaggie standing at the front of the door to the room, “Yes, if you wouldn’t mind.” You say shyly, sitting up again, you weren’t used to such hospitality, “thank you.” You say genuinely, extremely grateful that you found this place in this upside down world, “It’s no problem, you just get some rest alright? Vaggie can you go get something from my dresser?” She says, Vaggie nodding and leaving the room.

“So, can you tell me what happened? about why you’re here perhaps?” She questions, trying to start a conversation in the meantime, waiting for Vaggie to return, “Oh.. that..” you say looking down, away from her gaze, “oh! you don’t have to tell me anything if you want to,” she says, seeing how your expression has changed, “no, its just- it’s kind of a lot? I’ll just cut it short.” You smile at her, waving off her sudden intrusion of a question, “long story short, I asked for for a job and my, err, ‘manager’ gave me one,” you say scratching your cheek, the thought of Sera made you itch, “it was the extermination and I was so shocked on how Heaven was allowing the people to slaughter, so I used up so much of my power to drag every exorcist back to Heaven, leaving a bit of healing, hoping some sinners would recover,” You say as you as you rub your shoulder, still feeling guilty about the lives you witnessed being lost from the angels attack, “I’m really sorry about that by the way,” you apologized on behalf of the angels, “I tried to talk to my leader and it just got.. messy.” you sigh, Vaggie walking back to the room with clothes in hand, Charlie held your hand into her own, making you look up her, her comforting and sympathetic smile made you feel at ease from your riled up stress and tension, “hey, its alright,” she says, trying to soothe your nerves, “i’m just surprised an angel actually went out of their way to stop the extermination, it’s a complete first for anyone in hell to witness,” She smiles again, “i’m really glad you did, it shows that maybe not all angels are as bad as they seem.” she finishes, Vaggie walking up to you both giving, putting the clothes next to you, on the bed.

Charlie stood up, taking Vaggie’s hand into hers, “We’ll leave you alone for now, feel free to join us when you’re ready.” she waves as she leaves the room, closing the door behind her.

You got up from the bed after she left the room, changing out of your tattered dress and robes, the clothes they gave you were kind of big on you, the shirt was maybe too big, it was like a short night gown on you but you weren’t complaining since it was comfortable, the pants didn’t even fit so you tossed them to the side along with your tattered dress, wanting to deal with it later, you jumped into the bed, sighing in relief again, you laid on your stomach as you hugged the the fluffy pillow, the coolness of the sheets making you feel relaxed, best feeling ever.

Your star chimed as it floated off your head again, it was telling you it was going to keep watch as you slept, that was enough for you as you quickly drifted off to sleep, hugging the pillow as comfort.

✧•✧•✧•✧•✧•✧•✧

“look at that one, it looks like a duck!” Lucifer says under the oak tree, pointing to the clouds that drifted by, “Yeah, it does!” You say in awe, “that’s cause I made it be.” he giggles, showing you his pure golden light in his hands, you admired it as you giggled as well.

He laid in the grass as he continued to stare at the sky, his smile was so pure and full of life, “I’m so glad you came into my life, Luna.” He says before looking at you with adoration in his eyes, you stared back at him with a sparkle in your eyes, sitting up next to him, “everyone in my life thinks i’m a problem and avoids me cause of that,” he vents, looking back up at the blue sky, “and ever since you came along, everything just feels so… right.” he smiles, as you continued to stare at him with doe eyes, “I don’t think I could ask for anyone better, you are the first person to believe in me and my dreams for so long and I don’t think I want to lose you,” he says, sitting up and looking back at you, taking your hands into his own, “ever.”

You smiled at him comfortingly, “I don’t want to lose you either, Lulu.” you say as you look back into his eyes, you both stared into each other’s eyes, the silence between you was calm and comforting, “hey I know!” he says, brightening more from an idea, “lets make a promise,” he says, leaning closer to your face, “let’s promise each other that no matter what happens, we will stay together, we will help each other out in the time of need.” he says, pulling out hand in front of you, his pinky finger out, waiting for you to intertwine your finger with his.

You look down at his hand, back to him, you smiled more, “okay, I pinky promise.” you say as you brought your pinky out to hold into his, you both stared at each other with admiration for one another before he quickly pecked your forehead, leaving a warm kiss, your eyes widening in surprise at the sudden gesture, “I love you, my Luna.” he says, you felt your face heat up as he gave you a closed eyed smile, it became silent for a moment again before you spoke, “what’s a love?” you ask, breaking the silence as he looked at you bewildered, going back to smiling at you gently, “maybe one day, you’ll understand.”

✧•✧•✧•✧•✧•✧•✧

Your eyes fluttered open, as you groaned from a nights rest, you laid there for a moment before sitting up, groaning from the soreness in your body, you rubbed your eyes as you looked around, beginning to remember where you were. Upon waking up, your lavender blue star chimed as you awoke, happy to see you awake, you put your hands together for your star to rest in your hands, “oh, hey there,” you smiled tiredly, as it floated down into your hand, your used a bit of your mana to make cosmic dust, feeding the little star as it began to glow brightly again, after feeding it, it went to rest on your hair, seeing as your aren’t completely defenseless anymore.

You say in the bed looking around again before turning to your dress, it wasn’t filthy or dirty anymore, it looked clean and new, curious, you shifted out of the bed and went to collect it, they must have cleaned this for you while you were resting, you smiled, thankful for that, seeing as walking around in a shirt and undergarments in public was rather… explicit and embarrassing.

You turned around in the, realizing there was another door in your room, you went to open it curiously, behind the door was a sink and a tub, a personal bathroom, you smiled about that, you can take a bath without any worries now. You went into the bathroom, locking the door, deciding to take the chance to clean the blood and grime that stained your body. You sat on the hem of the tub, your clothes and bandages discarded, you were now scrubbing yourself clean, trying to avoid your wings soaking into the water, after cleaning your body, you focused on your wings, trying your best to not make them sting in pain as much as they already did in the contact with water, you washed them carefully and delicately.

After your relaxing bath, you changed your set of clothes, careful to not hurt your wings that looked like an absolute mess, the feathers were everywhere but you didn’t really bother with them, you’d groom your wings when they were healed up enough, with that thought out of the way, you went to leave the room, walking past a dresser with a mirror, you halted for a moment, stepping back and looking at the glass, your reflection showing, your hair was absolutely frizzled, your eyes were covered with black circles, like you just put black eyeliner around your eyes, you looked like an absolute mess and thing is, you were, emotionally and physically.

You saw a brush on the dresser, you decided to try and brush your hair, trying to look a little more presentable, a small chair sat underneath the dresser, pulling it put to sit down, focusing on your tangles.

You sat the brush down, looking at your now somewhat more clean state, there was nothing to do about the bags under your eyes, so you would just have to let that go, you got up from the chair, pushing it back under the dresser and walking to the door, exiting the room.

You explored the vast empty halls, taking in the details the hotel had, heading down the hall to the lobby, recalling that Charlie said you could join them anytime when you were ready, when you turned the corner, you saw some of the demons gathered in the corner of the lobby, you stood there quietly observing the people who were doing their own things, after scanning around the room, you saw Charlie talking to Vaggie in the parlor, on a sofa, it wasn’t long before Charlie spotted you as well and waved, “Over here, Y/n!” she calls to you, getting up to walk toward you to the stairs, you smiled nervously as everyone’s attention turned to you as you walked down the said stairs.

“How are you feeling?” she asks after you took your last step down, “I’m feeling much better, thank you,” You replied with sincerity, “and thank you for your hospitality.” You say as you bowed a little in respect, “just to make sure,” a male voice spoke as you turned away from Charlie’s to follow the voice, “you ain’t here to kill us right?” a tall feminine male asks, approaching you. You were taken back by his question but it made sense for them to worry, seeing as angels were sent to slaughter the poor souls, “what? no, i’d never-“ you tried to explain, being cut off quickly, “seeing on the news, she was the one who stopped the extermination, I don’t think those are her ideals, Angel.” Vaggie deadpanned to him, defending you.

Charlie laughed awkwardly, “Before we go into details any questions or details, how about a few introductions?” She asks, seeing how the atmosphere quickly turned, she guided you to the parlor, calling everyone to gather around, “Okay, so we have a new uhh,” she pauses trying to think, “guest at the hotel,” She says pointing her hand toward you, you waving shyly, “This is y/n, she arrived here yesterday as we all know and saw but welcome her nonetheless.” she smiles, only you getting stares and glances, “And these are our staff and residents,” she says, showing you the other three that were there, “this is Husk! our bartender,” she pointed to a cat with wings, who only stared at the distance, unfazed, “this is Angel, who is our single resident aside from you,” she says, pointing to the tall male who only scrolled through his phone before smiling and waving at you, “this is Niffty.” she says, pointing to a short woman with one eye who was staring into your soul, she ran up to you quickly, “are you an actual angel? why do you have so many wings? do you casually just wear eyeliner like that?” she says, pointing out your darkened eye bags, intruding your space, you only smiled nervously at her, she was asking to many questions before you could answer them, “and lastly, this is Alastor,” she says as you look at a man covered in red she pointed at, you were surprised about the male since you hadn’t seen him at all until now, he looked at you with an intimidating and intense gaze, smiling at you, making you feel uncomfortable, “he is our facility host.” She says, clasping her hands together with a smile.

Alastor walked up to you with a cane and his hands behind his back before bending down slightly to greet you properly, “it’s a pleasure to meet you, dear.” He says, stretching his hand out for you to shake, his hands had red sharp like claws making you hesitatingly take it with a nervous smile, “pleasure..” you say, shaking his hand lightly, you got more nervous than before when you began to hear radio static coming from him, the same static you heard when you first arrived here.

“With that out of the way, I was wondering- since you’re an angel and all- what do you think about sinners and redemption?” Charlie asked as Alastor backed away, trailing off to do his own thing as Charlie began to speak to you again, “what do you mean?” you asked curiously, requesting she’d go into more detail, “Well as you see, I began this project a few days ago,” she says, sitting next to you, summoning a pile of paper before taking one in her hand to show you hand-made drawings.

“What I want is to save my people and I thought maybe if they were given a second chance they could be redeemed and go to Heaven,” she says as she points to the drawing but your mind trailed off as soon as she said, ‘my people’ “wait- wait-“ you tried to cut her off, “your people?” you asked, “uhh, yeah?” she answered, confused about your reaction, you then stared at her, noticing her facial features, red cheeks, white skin and blonde hair… Your heart began to twinge a little from the thoughts that began to bubble your mind, “What’s your name..?” You ask, hesitatingly, afraid to find your suspicions might be correct. “Charlie… Morningstar.” she answers, putting down the drawing to respond, your eyes widened as you leaned back from her for a moment before leaning toward her, “You’re Lucifer’s daughter?!” you shouted completely shocked and somewhat… hurt? You felt a pain that couldn’t be explained in your stomach.

“Yeah, my parents are Lilith and Lucifer Morningstar,” she states, answering the truth you tried to avoid for so long, you were just lost in thought as she began to ramble about then both, “and that is why they call me the princess of hell- oh, are you alright?” Charlie asks genuinely, seeing the hurt expression on your face, you snapped out of your thoughts as you shook your head, putting up a facade, “huh? yeah- yeah, I was just surprised, sorry.” you tried to exclaim, “I was just not told about any of this is all, y’know? since being in Heaven and all?” you tried to excuse, not really convincing yourself, Alastor gave a side eye to you, interested on how you were baffled from the mention of Charlie and her parents, “Where are,” you trailed off, hesitating to finish your next question, “your parents?” you asked, nervously.

Charlie looked away from you, thinking momentarily before speaking, “My mother has been gone for quite a while,” she says as she looks back at you with a tinge of sadness in her eyes, “she’s only been gone for like.. seven years now? but i believe she’s off on some sort of business trip,” She says as she tried to smile and wave it off like it wasn’t a big deal, “and my father… we don’t talk much.” she says as she hugs her arm, rubbing it slightly and awkwardly at the topic of her parents but to you, knowing that they don’t have much contact, it all just put your nerves at ease, you don’t think you could handle randomly seeing either of those two… ever.

You sighed, regaining composure, “sorry if I intruded on your personal life,” you apologize, looking at Charlie, “I uhm,” you paused, thinking if you should tell her anything about you, “you see, I used to be best friends with Lucifer,” you smiled, “and I am just happy to know that he’s alright.” You say with a half lie, you weren’t happy about him and Lilith, you never were and you never wanted to let him go like you did, like you had to.

Charlie smiled from surprise, “wait, are you Luna?” she asks, the name being said in so long, you felt rather uncomfortable with it, “I don’t really go by that name anymore but yes, I used to be..” You admit, trying to avoid saying the name yourself as it became more of a haunting of the past. She jumped in her seat on the sofa with a radiated smile, “my father told me so many stories about you when I was younger!” she says as she began to shake in happiness, “it’s so nice to meet you! I didn’t even know it was you!” she continues as she shook your hand suddenly, surprising you with her sudden enthusiasm, “he told me how you’re the daughter of the universe, the way you make stars and constellations align,” she began to ramble, “he even told me about the stars you make are always and are more beautiful than any other angel would ever create.” She smiles as she leaned in toward you with admiration.

You sat there with mixed feelings again, Lucifer said all this about you? the compliments she stated out made your heart flutter and you didn’t know why, surely he’d hate you by now after everything you did? the thoughts began to stress your mind and you just didn’t want to deal with them, you look down at the desk and remembered Charlies hotel project, so you decided it was best to change the subject, “I’m glad he seems to see me that way,” you smiled, “but how about you tell me about your project? I think we trailed off.” You stated, pointing to her drawings, she gasped as she picked up her paper drawing again, “that’s right! as I was saying before, I was thinking of maybe we could try and redeem sinners and try to bring them to Heaven! that way we can stop overpopulation in Hell,” she continued as you listened, taking a liking to her idea, “and if we find a solution to the overpopulation,” she says, bringing up another paper for you to see, “we can end all these exterminations and everyone will be smiling and happy!” she finishes as you smiled to her ideals, “So what do you think?” she asks as she puts down the drawing and looked at you eagerly awaiting your answer, “I actually think this is a great idea!” you say as you sit up in your seat eagerly, loving the idea of second chances, Charlie smiled more at your response as she squeed in excitement, having an angel finally agree on her passion project, “I’m so happy you believe in my cause!” she shouted in happiness, Vaggie smiling that someone else agreed who was the same as her.

“I was so upset when I found out extermination was allowed, it’s completely terrible as a whole.” you say as you leaned back into the sofa in distaste for the thought of ‘divine judgment’ amongst Charlie’s people, “So do I! None of them deserved what was given to them.” she says as she frowns, “I agree,” You say empathetically, “If you would let me, I’d like to stay and help with your cause.” You offered, Charlie smiling once again, “Really?” She asked with pure joy, “Yeah! I believe this could work!” You say with full confidence.

This made Alastor raise a brow at you and Charlie as he subtly listened in your whole conversation, he turned away with a ‘hmm’ as he thought to himself, he then shadowed up behind the sofa you and Charlie sat, nudging Vaggie away a little, “So we have a new staff member now?” Alastor smiled, Vaggie rolling her eyes at Alastor and walking around the sofa to sit next to Charlie, you blinked at him in surprised from his sudden join in on the conversation, “Yes we do!” Charlie says as she sat up, to gain everyone’s attention to announce you were now part of the crew, “everyone, everyone, I’d like to announce that we have a new staff member on our team!” She says as she points to you, they weren’t very enthusiastic as you had expected but not really expected them to but it really didn’t bother you since you preferred to avoid attention. Not to mention that Alastor had left the lobby before Charlie even began.

“We can discuss what you can do later,” Charlie says to you, before heading toward the middle of the lobby to pace around, “right now, what we need to do is discuss how we can try and bring sinners in,“ she began as Husk walked off to the green creepy area at the back of the lobby, drinking whatever green glass he held, “extermination is coming in six months instead of a year, it’s no big deal, just a little set back,” she says as a cat appears and follows her before jumping over to the sofa to sit next to you, you stared at it in surprise as it tilted it’s head at you, blinking its one eye and all you could process in your mind is- oh my stars its so cute.

You stared at the cat as it walked further to you, you didn’t want to move to touch it, afraid it might run off, she sat right next to you, you hesitated to pet it but it leaned into your touch and you never felt so much serotonin fill your body all at once, you pet her head gently as the kitty purred and you were squealing on the inside as you continued to pet her. You picked up the black cat, carrying her in your arms as you walked toward Charlie and Vaggie, “don’t you think if the next extermination deadline is sooner than expected, wouldn’t sinners be desperate?” you asked, while petting the cat in your arms, “yeah,” Vaggie thought, “maybe desperate enough to try and do anything to escape the extermination.” Vaggie spoke with a smile appearing on her face making Charlie gasp, getting the idea she was leading on, “this is the perfect time to recruit more sinners for the hotel!” she shouted, raising her arms in the air, you smiling as you thought the same as well, only to frown when the kitty jumped out your arms, feeling the world shatter again inside your soul.

“Cute idea and all,” Angel says, tapping through his phone, “but you really going to go out in all of this?” He asks, showing a video of demons screaming through the city with fire everywhere, “well, it’s not like people are just going to show up on our doorstep-“ she says before being cut off from a loud explosion, making you jolt in surprise, hiding behind Charlie and Vaggie.

Everyone ran outside to see what the ruckus was about, you following last, you weren’t sure what to expect being new in Hell and all but when you saw outside was a massive war machine and Alastor at the top of one of the hotels balcony, talking with the attacker who damaged one of the hotels walls.

Well, needless to say, your ‘first day’ in Hell was going to be quite the ride to your new step in your new fallen life but you couldn’t complain, it was much more freeing than it ever was in Heaven.

✧•✧•✧•✧•✧•✧•✧

TAGGLISSSTT YIPEEE:

@ag-cookiebat800 @meow-meowo @kyo-kyo1 @darling-may-i @pink-apples001 @sparkleyfishies @mollzaj @glowymxxn @hyperkaiperrose

thank you for reading!!:!/!

AMERICA YA :D

[rennybu]

AAAAUHG.. so many things come to mind so i will start with... i like to imagine he and Fenris are the same height :') (5'11"). This got a bit long but i'm always happy to talk about this guy!!!!!!!!! @trebuchet151

he's got a big garnet signet ring with the Amell family crest carved in it, and that's about the only recognizable thing that denotes his lineage... he has always liked stamping wax seals on letters with it!!! he's a ring guy generally, he likes mixing and matching stones and metal.

his hands are very scarred and rough from reckless casting, and especially casting fire magic without a staff (in a pinch).

He has a heart tattooed on his ring finger for Fenris :') their wedding was very. Andraste as the witness, on the road, impulsive. Vows for themselves, nothing legally binding. Fenris has a plain gold band on a red cord somewhere on his person at all times.

his testosterone is taken via oral tincture, some kind of oil solution he takes drops of daily. like a mild and highly personalized potion recipe! it's the only reason he sometimes needs a home base or shop to set up in, to prepare a big batch. He stores it in little glass vials he collects from trinket shops. Malcolm found the recipe for him after he came out in his tweens.

Bethany is kind of sainted in his mind, when he's exasperated or stunned he might utter an "oh Bethany" (in the tone of "are you seeing this shit") rather than an "oh Maker"

He struggles a lot with empathy, in that he frequently can logically recognize when he should feel for another person's situation, and yet finds himself unmoved. He will deliberately go out of his way to care for others, sometimes more than is needed, to try to make up for what he perceives as a personal flaw. This is how he ended up like a wrung out mouldy rag, emotionally, by the end of DA2.

His spell class is fucking terrifying, he has a lot of mana and not much hp, but is really reckless about his reserves. He combines force magic with fire magic, trapping foes and incinerating them, and sometimes leaving himself winded in the wake of too much magical exertion at once.

he's pretty spry and strong but doesn't have a great constitution. He tires out quickly in fights, hence trying to end them explosively and quickly.

Was briefly stalked by a sloth demon, perhaps around Act 2, and passed a very "get off my doorstep" homebrew harrowing as a result. Burnt it out of his shadow and got some spring back in his step, around roughly the same time he recognized his feelings for Fenris, settled into his role as Hawke within Kirkwall, etc. He Killed Dysphoria, Forever!!!

His love for Merrill makes him very "blood magic is okay", he loves her worldview and wisdom about its use, but his upbringing prevents him from extending that grace to himself. He was forced to use blood magic in his duel against the Arishok in order to survive it!!! Angst. Hates himself quite badly for this. Until Merrill is like "why are you special" and he's like ooohh. I get it

We all kno Hawke goes thru hell but I love reflecting on Orson's arc from early family life to Now/post-DA:I, he found closure among his friends and family and was able to fully remove himself from a public leadership role and is doing much better for it. He's a bit of an anarchist i guess, jack of all trades with a pretty rigid set of personal morals that sometimes forces him to act outside the law. He's very grey market, hard to contact, arrive in the nick of time.

He and Fenris do not ever shut up around each other. Two dudes who talk about fuck all, very intelligently. If you see Fenris in the wild, Orson is probably around, too. They love hunting Venatori and only sometimes get in the way of other spy/subterfuge activities.

he smells like BRITTLE sun-baked wood, with a hint of oily herbal medicine.

[esamastation]

Well

Metagaming started with a plan and then veered WAY off course. Also, a little bit of spite was maybe involved.

Might end up lol. But yeah, the Cast Iron thing was plan from the very start. There was also some video I watched on YouTube, can't remember by who, but it had a mention of concept of mana in Polynesian cultures and how it can be gained through sexual acts, etc, not really important. Still, there was some spite and previous random research influencing the planning process.

*going out his way.

Yeah, so the original plan was for Shen Qingqiu to figure out the sex thing out and also have a lot of it probably, and eventually turning it into mastery, etc etc. It was a fun enough plan. There was going to be a lot of smut. Experienced and confident sqq, hell yeah.

.... And then I actually wrote a bit further and the story turned into something else. Arguably what it ended up becoming as it progressed is probably better - but I still have this other story in my head about Sqq with more confident and comfortable attitude towards his own, healthy, sex life. Alas, no plan survives encounter with the enemy and Sqq's various issues won, and then various issues of Qing Jing Peak started cropping up. That's the risk you take when you go in depth - you find the depths.

Still, the rough shape of the harem survived, if not all the educational and casual sex I was planning for sqq to be having. His character just didn't work with it.

Yeaaah this sort of thing happens to me a lot. I start writing one thing and end up writing another. But that's fine, it was fun exploring mental health care and stuff in xianxia setting and it went interesting directions later on in Character Optimisation. I ended up hanging onto the idea of "Sqq as eventual Master of Dual Cultivation" probably to the story's overall detriment, really should've killed my darling there, but I just couldn't. Hindsight is whatever, that's just what happens sometimes when plans go awry.

I haven't abandoned the fic yet. The last part is going to be called Power Levelling and I have like 10% of the start and 20% of the end roughly planned out but I have no idea what happens in the middle and that's why I haven't yet written a word of it. Still, I hold onto hope. I'll write it one day.

In conclusion, plans change, stories go off the rails and overall it's all going to be okay 👍

[ancha-aus]

DoubleNoot AU Drabble - A New Day

Welcome back to another installment! this time we see the new family getting used to their new family member and taking small steps to get comfortable int heir new normal.

Last Time on DoubleNoot Adventures! Nightmare took a moment to think about what is going on and how he feels about it. Only for him and Killer to have a conversation as the others slept before slowly waking up.

*-------------------------*

Corrupt is happy to see Nightmare comfortable in his tendril. Safe and sound and by the looks of it he seems well-rested.

Which makes Corrupt happy as it means he truly did feel safe enough to let himself rest.

Killer grins at him "Morning Moonlight."

Corrupt notices two of his mates already awake and chuckles "Morning you two." he makes sure to nuzzle both before looking at them and Nightmare at the same time. "How did you all sleep?"

Nightmare mutters a soft reply that he slept okay while Killer and Dust tell him they slept great as always.

Corrupt smiles as Horror gives asleepy mutter. Dust is quicker though as he leans over and kisses him as he sends a spark of magic to Horror.

Horror is immediantly more awake and mutters a soft thank you as Dust just shrugs.

Nightmare looks at Corrupt shocked as Corrupt looks at Horror "Horror? Are you okay wiht me explaining things to Nightmare?"

Horror blinks and looks over before nodding "Of course." a bit softer "Sorry for worrying you there. I am alright." with that said he nuzzles Dust again before giving both Killer and Corrupt their own nuzzles. "I was thinking eggs."

Killer looks excited "Oh i can help wtiht eh chickens!" and he gets out of bed together with Horror and the two walk off.

Ngihtmare looks at him anxiously "What is... is he okay? was he sick?" he rubs his hands together. Corrupt makes sure to make his tentacle into his hold and Nightmare starts kneading that instead.

Corrupt makes sure to keep his voice a bit down. Bot for Nightmare but also for Cross. Seeing as he is still asleep Corrupt thinks he overdid it the day before.

Corrupt starts to explain softly "Horror has a few physical conditions that we need to keep an eye on. We have this under control so you do not have to worry about it. The foremost one is his injury on his skull. It can cause him migraines and will always be sensitive." Not to forget that Horror is more sensitive to light. He can however see through camouflage which is helpful.

"Further his soul has gone through an starvation. If we are unable to take energy from food a monsters body will start going into survival modes. Which is when they won't make any magic or mana and store any magic left. This stored magic will be reused over and over again to make the monster able to move."

Ngihtmare frowns as he keeps looking at him. Waiting.

Corrupt sighs sadly "It is why his skull never healed. His body did not have the energy or magic available to heal. And the longer the starvation lasts the more consequences there are once a monster exists these survival modes."

Corrupt smiles "After we made him able to eat more and rest his body slowly started to recover and go out of survival mode. Sadly we noticed quickly he was unable to use magic aside from very minimal things. Furthermore we found out his body can no longer efficiently gain magic and mana from food and energy. Leaving him with the ened to eat very regularly to make sure his body has what it needs."

Mostly it is to make sure that his body doesn't get stressed and starts reusing the same magic again which can cause even more complications now that his body isn't saving energy and magic.

Nightmare frowns as he glances at the door "And a long ngiht is rough?"

Dust shrugs as he mutters "Not always. But some mornings his magic is a bit slower with waking up and becoming active. It is quicker and healthier for him to give him a little boost over letting his magic stress itself out."

Nightmare frowns as he gives a slow nod "and the.... kiss was giving this magic?"

Corrupt nods "It was. It doesn't need to be a kiss however. that is just Dust's personal preference."

Dust shoots him an unamused look but doesn't go against it. Probably because he doesn't want to explain he and Hroror found out on a mission that Horror can also get these moments and at the time they hadn't known a simple spark could be used.

Instead Dust had to quickly eat rations to partly transform it intt magic before transferring it to Horror.

This was well before they all started dating. Neither of them had been too excited about having to explain this situation in their reports.

Nightmare gives a slow nod "Oh.... okay... and he is okay?"

Dust nods "Horror is fine. He is though." he glances to the side.

Corrupt follows it and chuckles as he sees Cross look up confused as he yawns. Corrupt chuckles and mutters a soft "good morning" before giving his skulla kiss.

Cross stares confused before shooting upright "It is already morning?! I need to go train!"

Dust yawns lazily "You will miss breakfast if you do that now."

Cross looks annoyed at Dust "Why didn't you wake me?!"

Dust looks bored at him "Because you were once again hiding the fact you were exhausted. It was time for a long nap for you. after breakfast we can work out together."

Cross grumbles but doesn't go against it.

Nightmare is watching the interaction curiously as Corrupt just holds him clsoe in a little bundle of tentacles.

Corrupt hums "Dust is right. We will miss breakfast which will saddens Horror. After breakfast we can look through what you and Killer collected for Ngihtmare?" he offers it.

Cross immediantly looks more excited about that idea nad easily agrees as he gets up. Dust sighs but follows thier mate.

Leaving Nightmare nad Corrupt alone. Corrupt looks at the young skeleton "How are you feeling?"

Nigtmare seems to think for a moment before answering "I am... okay? I feel rested but... stuff aches?" he traces some of his bones through the soft sleeping shirt "Even when i know the wounds are gone it still hurts..."

Corrupt frowns and studies the bones Nightmare offers up for inspection. Corrupt gentle touches and presses against the bones but there are no flinches or any signs of pain.

There isn't... until Nightmare moves his own arm and his face pitches.

Corrupt frowns "We will need to look into that... first some food. Maybe your body jsut eneds more energy... Then we can ask Cross nad Dust."

Ngihtmare lets Corrupt pick him up and carry him out "Why them?"

Corrutp speaks as he brings them downstairs to the breakfast nook "Cross is out main healer. He has healing magic you see. Dust however knows the much about it even if his magic can't heal. Before Cross joined us he was the one who took care of us if we got hurt."

Ngihtmare blinks "oh... oh! is that why Dust knew what to do to help Horror at that mission?"

Corrupt nods and smiles "indeed. It is why i paired them up on missions. Both are very strong and compliment each others prefered fighting style in case of emergencies. But in the end Horror's skull could cause complications and Dust would be the best to send with him just in case." and it proved to be the correct choice as Dust managed to save Horror's life because of this knowledge.

They get to the breakfast nook and see the table already set and the others all seated.

Corrupt takes his seat and after a moment decides to just keep Nightmare in his left and arms. It is more stable for him and Corrupt just wants to be sure he is stable with his bdoy being sore.

His mates shoot him amused looks but don't mention anything.

horror serves the food and Corrupt is happy to note that Horror already seemed to have eaten a bit by the sight of the dirty plate. Corrupt shoots hima look but Horror waves him off. Clearly his larger mate feels fine.

Corrupt checks the food and spots eggs and omeletts all laid out for them. They all have glasses of milk set before them and fresh orange juice.

Corrupt thinks for a moment before figuring it out. Eggs for proteins but not too intense of a taste and an easy place to start with. ommelettes for the same reason but with some extra greens and vegetables in them. Milk to help boost their calcium and orange juice for much needed vitamins.

Corrupt smiles and shoots Horror a thankful look but Horror jsut give s gentle smile and a shake of his skull as he fills up his plate again.

Corrupt fills up his and Ngihtmare's shared plate and he starts helping and encouraging Ngihtmare to taste the food. His face lights up at the taste of the eggs and Corrupt smiles as Nightmare focusses on the different tastes and flavours.

Breakfast is spend talking about the plans for the day and if they need to do any trips to get anything. Horror mentions that they will be fine for food for a few weeks longer as their hens and gardens are growing beautifully. Ngihtmare feels intrigued about these but doesn't ask any questions.

Horror is about to clean up but Corrupt stops him "Let me."

Horror looks unsure as he sends him a look "You are busy."

Corrupt smiles "I will manage. You ened to rest. Go to the couch." the others will get the bags with Ngihtmare's stuff unpacked as Corrupt cleans. Horror doesn't deny it or challange it as he makes his way to the living room.

Nightmare frowns as he looks around "I... i don't think i can help... sorry."

Corrupt smiles at him "You don't need to." as he holds Nightmare in his arms as his tendrils clean everything around them. Moving things around and putting them in the dishwasher.

Ngihtmare stares in awe and Corrupt has to at least stay slightly focussed as he moves things around.

He does take the time to transfer Ngihtmare to his tentacles as he takes the time to wipe any surface down with his actual hands. Making sure he got every spot.

With the kitchen and breakfast nook clean he moves himself and nightmare to the living room.

The bags are paid out unto the table and Corrupt smiles. There is a pile of clothes and other necessaries. Further there are a few piles with books. He can spot some puzzles and drawing supplies.

Nightmare is shocked as he stares and can't seem to take everything in fast enough.

Corrupt gets them comfortable adn Killer takes the lead easily as he starts talking about what they found and which things the broguth back.

Almost all the things they brought back fits Ngihtmare just fine. the few exceptions are a bit too big and Corrupt hopes nightmare will grow into it nicely.

They make sure to test if the jacket fits him all right. Msotly because if they want to take him outside they want to be sure he is warm and comfy.

Nightmare stares in awe at the many books and is quick to hug the fiction books near. The cover shows a cat and something about warriors. Corrupt just knows tha tKiller picked it out.

They continue lookign through it all and Nightmare is overwhelmed. WHcih is why corrupt pauses the moment and check in on him "Are you okay? we can take a break if you want... it is a lot of new information."

Corss nad Killer look slightly embarrassed as they mentioned they got excited getting stuff for Nightmare.

Nightmare looks so unsure as he rubs his hands together "You didn't... need to... i didn't mean... i don't want to be... difficult... or a burden... or..." he looks down as he shakes lightly.

Corrupt remembers of course. the villagers always taking the few things Nightmar ehad. destroying his things and then telling dream that nightmare just lost it and look aren't they nice for replacing it?

Corrupt picks him up and holds him close "These are yours. you deserve to having nice things and to be able to enjoy them. we can make a corner and get a cabinet to keep your new things safe and in a spot where you can easily get them."

Ngihtmare rubs his sockets. Feeling embarrassed as he nods. Corrupt makes sure to keep him close as they all encourage him to pick a few things he wants to keep with him to play and relax with. Nightmare ends up jsut picking one of the books. All the othr stuff they makes sure is safely on the coffee table as they promise they will take the time together to look for a cabinet he likes and a spot he likes his stuff.

The clotehs they put in a drawer in Corrupt's room for now. Until a bit more time has passed and Nightmare feels safer. Then they can look into getting him his own room.

For now?

They move towards the training room togehter. Killer, Dust and Cross wish to work out and Corrupt likes to watch them.

And maybe after seeing them move Nightmare will feel a bit saver and a bit mroe protected.

*-------------------------*

Next part

[starleska]

a darker theory about why the Contestant went on the Finding Frankie show

tw for discussions of suicidality, attempted suicide and mental health user @mana-is-lost figured out that the Contestant went through an extraordinary amount of Frankie's Fruit Flakes in order to get on the Finding Frankie show...which raises a lot of interesting questions and ideas.

the first is that the Contestant appears to be a long-time fan of the show - Mana also noticed that they have a sticker of Frankie on their VHS tape. a few people have speculated that the Contestant wanted to get on the show just for the money, but in order to go through that many boxes of cereal, they would've had to spend thousands of dollars. more importantly, they are constantly buying the family size cereal (presumably the only kind in which the tapes are available), although there is no evidence they have a family...they live in a small apartment and are on the verge of bankruptcy.

Mana also noticed that the Contestant has a Finding Frankie sticker on the side of their VHS tape, establishing that they are likely a long-term fan. it may well be that we've gotten things backwards. is it possible that the Contestant was not on the verge of bankruptcy due to normal life circumstances, but lost a lot of their money trying to get on the show, finding the golden ticket video tapes?

we know that the Contestant is down on their luck and living in a squalid environment. however, take note of everything about this setup. the trash hasn't been taken out. items are scattered and free-floating to convey disarray, and recalled through a hazy fog, as if the Contestant hasn't been in the best frame of mind. most tellingly, the oven is open and there's a carton of some kind of liquid behind the stovetop. i believe this liquid, based on the shape of the container, is either gasoline or bleach. consider this. what if the Contestant wants to die?

i believe that the Contestant has been suicidal for a while, and has been psyching themselves up to try and kill themselves: the remnants of which we see scattered around their apartment. in the midst of a mental health crisis, they've lapsed back into a longtime fixation of theirs: Finding Frankie, which until recently was nothing more than a feel-good parkour show. however, over the past year ratings have declined and more troublesome things about the show have been reported, including rumours about injury and even death. the Contestant, rather than being horrified and no longer idolising the show, sees this as a way out. if people really are being killed in the Parkour Palace, there's no way they'd survive...and the agency is removed from them to perform the act themselves, which they have been unable to do. i think this is where the true horror lies for the Contestant in the final scene with Frankie. it isn't that they will have to go through the terror of surviving against the odds over and over again as the star of the show. it's that they have been denied the one thing they came on the show for: death.

[savaralyn2]

Regarding the topic of monsters outside dungeons, there is a good deal of evidence to suggest that they are not outlandish or exceptional, but also not super common. For example (some spoilers below):

There is a notable amount of culture, beliefs etc surrounding monsters (they exist in suitable numbers to have implications for the lives of people semi-regularly).

Senshi discusses the taste difference of monsters in the dungeon and outside (seeming to suggest that various monsters exist both in dungeons and in the outside world).

Melini has monsters along its border in such numbers that they present a kind of unintentional defense against outside aggressions (seemingly because Laios' influence pushes them out of Melini itself, but they have no reason to wander farther than that), seeming to indicate that monsters can survive in the outside world rather decently, and exist in non-trivial numbers. Laios also notes that monsters, specifically, seem to be able to survive in environments unlivable for normal animals (for example in a salted wasteland with no sources of food).

There's other stuff too, but that comes to mind quickly. My rough estimation would be that a normal person in a settled area might not expect to see monsters with regularity, but most people likely have encountered a monster, or know about someone in their sphere who did (and in certain places this is likely much more common).

Sometimes in fan circles, there's a kind of assumption that the supernatural elements in DunMeshi are almost solely in the dungeons, but there's plenty of magic and supernatural elements depicted as part of the various cultures that clearly aren't just for dungeons (for example, a trained mage might become a graveyard keeper due to the restless dead, and the Eastern Archipelago has magic systems, despite explicitly being very poor in dungeons and monsters).

I would also, like you, assume it has to do with mana density between areas, in large parts. Since dungeons are what tends to generate mana (due to the ecosystem inside it allowing a lot of mana sprites to spawn and all that, essentially), we may assume that a dungeon "leaks" mana into the world. Natural dungeons likely form when a suitably sheltered location attracts monsters that form an ecosystem inside, stabilizing into a kind of new mana sprite breeding ground.

Good takes, honestly.

Only thing I'd say is that modern Melini may be something of an outlier due to the fact that the dungeon implosion flooding basically that whole area with magic power would presumably having a lasting effect (as we see with the fact that Yaad and the GK residents are still alive a year past the end of the manga), even if it slowly ebbs back to normal over time. Laios's monster repelling aura keeps monsters out of the kingdom/main city itself, but them gathering around the outskirts definitely shows that the land steeped with magic is drawing them in like a magnet anyways. I'd guess once enough time passes the country won't really NEED Laios's power to keep monsters away since the magic will have reached a point where the monsters go back to regular numbers along with the regular magic levels.

[arkhammaid]

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ S-RANKS AND THEIR INHUMAN TRAITS.

fandom. solo leveling

pairings. beak yoonho, choi jong-in, liu zhigang, sung jin-woo x gn!reader

content warnings. s-ranks are not quite human, written in lower caps, not edited/proofread

word count. 1.1k

notes. first solo leveling fic here on tumblr!! i hope you all like it, some food before i focus on the event fics :)

S-Ranks are not only distinguished by the fact that their mana levels are so high that they can't be measured by any means, but also by taking almost animalistic traits. Those are a result of their own high mana reserves and in which way the mana has manifested in them. Each S-Rank is individual and shows different inhuman traits. 

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ baek yoonho. 

beak yoonho is an s-rank, who focuses on transformation magic. while he clearly has the power of a tank, his mana manifests in a weird mix of tiger and wolf

having practiced rigorous control of his mana and with that his animalistic instincts, he’s one of the few s-ranks who rarely shows his inhuman traits

and still, his appearance changed the moment he awakened to a s-rank. canine teeth, his pupils turning to slits when his control slips— those small things bleed through his ‘normal’ appearance 

these traits are the most obvious after baek cancels his transformation, mana still pulsing strongly through his body and only slowly turning him back fully human. the tips of his hair stay white, streaked with black, while his eyes continue to glow and usually round pupils remain as thin slits

when he’s like this, mind still hazy and led by instincts, his words are more like growls, deep and snarling, showing his teeth to anyone who dares to touch what’s his

that’s what happens as well. baek normally hides it well, but post-transformation leaves doesn’t exactly clear his mind, instincts influencing his acts and decisions

you know all of this well, after being baek’s partner for years, you got to know all his traits, those he hides so well. sometimes you wish he wouldn’t, you don’t mind seeing him like this, but baek is careful. he would never dare to hurt you, he fears it, fully knowing his claws could easily sink into your delicate flesh, ripping you apart while his mana lusts for blood. 

baek doesn’t show his inhuman traits often, he doesn’t like showing them, because showing them means exposing them to you, someone who could never survive an s-rank.

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ choi jong-in.

compared to baek, his long time rival, choi jong-in isn’t the one for hiding his less humane traits, but he doesn’t parade them around either. choi is a dragon through and through, sly and with a knowing glint in his eyes

he loves to hoard things, his apartment filled with trinkets, weapons he collected from all around the world, armor, artifacts— everything and anything, if something interesting catches his eyes, he will drag it to his hoard and no one will stop him

choi is a being of fire. the slumbering embers and roaring fires, calm and passionate, he embodies it and it often shows. running hotter than most s-ranks, choi is a walking heater. he himself isn’t bothered by it, but others can get uncomfortable 

and like any other beast, he has fangs and is proud of them. showing off his impressive teeth isn’t something he doesn’t do often, and yet, when the smoke of his cigarettes curls around him, sometimes you can glimpse a flash of them

despite choi being a professional and known for being one of the ‘nicer’ s-ranks, he can have a nasty temper as well. several times you’ve heard him snarl, teeth gleaming, a low rumble in his throat and the heat in the room steadily rising. he has a good control of himself and knows when it’s getting dangerous, choking his own mana and becoming seemingly completely human again. 

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ liu zhigang. 

liu zhigang could be compared to a berserker. he is a mighty warrior, one of the strongest s-ranks known and his blood runs hot, his hunger for blood and battle never satisfied

liu is a berserker, always ready for battle, lusting after it, no matter how strong the enemies are

and like any other proper berserker, he loves weapons. be it any blade, swords and spears, he wants them in his possession, even if he will never use them twice. sometimes his interest in a weapon is just enough to properly ‘bloody’ it, mesmerized by the view of splattered guts and flesh of monsters

war is his calling and it shows. his instincts are wired and completely focused on battles, it’s hard for him to just turn those off. he can mute them, and still he often scares other hunters and ordinary humans with his laser focus

he’s a predator and everyone is his victim, no one is safe. this is what most feel, no matter what liu does. when he was still young, inexperienced, nothing more than a small boy in this large world, he was scared. scared to hurt others, if he could never control this bloodlust

but nowadays, this fear is nowhere to be seen. liu is confident in his skin and he fully embraces his whole being, the fierce mana that has changed him forever. when he grins with a fierce glint in his eyes, own blood already boiling, his whole body ready to jump and tear through flesh… it’s then when he truly shows his animalistic, inhuman traits. 

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ sung jin-woo. 

sung jin-woo has probably the most control of his inhuman traits out of all s-ranks known to earth. and still, he can’t hide them completely, just as he can’t hide his power

there are his fangs, just a bit longer, a bit sharper than normal human teeth. there are his eyes, dark and glowing, his whole body shrouded in shadows— sometimes they cling onto him, sometimes jin-woo becomes a shadow

he’s not feral, bloodthirsty or a slave to his inhuman instincts. he just is someone, something powerful in a human body

a reason why other s-ranks are so careful around him. what kind of power does he have, to completely control his urges, those inhuman traits, while walking among them as if he’s a normal human being. yet he can’t be, not with the mana tightly around him— no matter what rank you are, sung jin-woo is one of the most powerful s-ranks known and everyone can feel that

as can you, not even a hunter, your body devoid of any mana but you can feel it. feel jin-woo’s power, how the shadows cling onto him, how his eyes glint, the mana wisps around him. you can feel it, sometimes see it but rarely, rarely jin-woo shows it. hidden away, in his arms, where darkness takes over him, but you’re not afraid. he keeps you safe, clothed in shadows and mana, while his rumbling chest fills the peaceful silence around you. 

taglist. @keyz-writes , @obsidianjewel , @keqism , @aimixx , @venexus , @themercyverse

if you want to join the taglist, please read this post!

ARKHAM MAID 2023

[tobythewise]

My not-so-secret favorite ship is Dorian x Anders and I adore hurt/comfort (Anders is just so good for it)! So, with that in mind, I’ll suggest “It would have been a lot easier to treat if you’d mentioned it sooner.” For Dorian x Anders, if you’re up for it!

Thank you so much for this prompt!! Dorian/Anders is ALSO one of my secret favorite ships (although tbh I just love anyone with Anders don't at me... LOL)

Written for @dadrunkwriting featuring Inquisitor Anders, hurt/comfort, getting together

“Gods damn it, Dorian,” Anders grits through clenched teeth. He winces as Dorian slides out of his pants fully. Normally, the sight of an attractive man getting naked would bring Anders to his knees. 

Dorian makes a broken noise, sitting down on the bench, carefully pulling the front of his shirt down to cover his dick while giving Anders the full view of his upper thigh. They’d just gotten back from that cursed swampy marsh. He’s not sure his boots will ever be dry again. 

Apparently, Dorian took a knife to the upper thigh and instead of telling Anders about it straight away, the handsome mage decided it was fine and would heal on it’s own. What’s the point of being the Inquisitor if the people who follow you won’t use your spirit healing for their benefit?

Anders sighs, poking and prodding at the wound. It’s clearly infected. Probably a mix of undead grossness, swampy muck, and sweat being pressed into the wound inside Dorian’s tight pants. He’s not sure he can use his magic to pull the infection out. He’ll need to use herbs and once the infection is gone, he’ll be able to close it up with his magic. 

“See,” Dorian says, his voice clearly strained as he puts on an easy smile. “It doesn’t look all that bad.”

“Not that bad? Are you trying to convince yourself?”

Dorian lets out an awkward chuckle. What is it with Anders falling for men who can’t seem to take care of themselves? Something like this could be deadly if they’re not careful. Blood poisoning is no laughing matter. 

“This would have been a lot easier to treat if you’d mentioned it sooner.”

Dorian’s eyes dart away. “I didn’t want to be a bother, darling. You were so busy with,” Dorian flicks his wrist in a circle, gesturing around them. “You’re saving the world. Every day you’re on a new mission, saving lives, healing every soldier you can get your hands on. You deplete your mana until you’re glowing with Justice’s juices. I didn’t want to add anything more to your plate.”

Oh. 

Anders’ heart skips a beat at the idea of Dorian caring for him. He wanted to protect Anders, even if the idea of hiding an injury is stupid in Anders’ book. It’s the thought that counts. 

Anders hums softly, reaching into his bag and bringing out a jar of poultice. “This is going to hurt,” he says softly before putting a large amount directly into the wound. Dorian whimpers but Anders is careful and uses a tiny bit of magic to soothe the inflammation. Then he wraps up the wound with clean bandages. 

Sweat drips down the side of Dorian’s brow, his eyes glued to Anders’ face. 

“I’ll need to change these every morning and as soon as the infection has run its course, I’ll be able to properly seal and heal.”

Dorian’s hand touches Anders’ wrist, stopping him from pulling away. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I didn’t want to be just another burden.”

“Dorian,” Anders breathes out. He’s still on his knees, between Dorian’s legs. They’re so close, achingly close, yet at the same time Anders wishes they were closer. “I’m not upset. I was worried. If anything happened to you--” Anders has lost too many people that he loves. He doesn’t think he’ll survive going through that yet again. 

It would be better to put distance between them. He can’t get hurt if he doesn’t love again. 

Unfortunately, it’s too late for that. 

“Nothing is going to happen to me. Do you really think a little flesh wound could stop the evil magister from Tevinter who surely does blood magic while he’s reading those evil books all night?”

Anders’ eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, unable to stop the surprised chuckle that leaves him. “Is that the current rumor?”

“Yes,” Dorian says, raising his nose in the air. “There’s also a rumor about how I’m corrupting the Inquisitor.”

“Really? If anything, the abomination is corrupting the mages.”

“Nonsense. I’ve seen my fair share of abominations and none of them hold a candle to you. A handsome renegade if I’ve ever seen one.”

“Don’t let Varric hear you say that,” Anders says with a smile.

The hand on his wrist moves up to his face, gently cupping his face. “You have everything on your shoulders, Anders. You do so much for everyone. Who takes care of you?” Anders can’t meet Dorian’s eyes. “Ah, as I suspected.”

Dorian cups his chin, forcing him to raise his face. “I’m going to kiss you now. Is that agreeable?”

“Is that? By the Maker, Dorian. Yes.” 

They lean into each other, their lips meeting. Anders doesn’t remember the last time he did something just for him, but this kiss? This is just for him. The world fades away. There’s no anchor running up his arm, there’s no Corypheus, there’s no demon army. There’s just Dorian and Anders. 

“Every time I love, it ends in disaster,” Anders whispers against Dorian’s lips. Despite how perfect this moment is, he feels like he has to warn Dorian. 

Dorian huffs against his lips. “We’ve only just started and you’re already planning on it ending?”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“It’s okay if you do. You’re the best healer I know. Let yourself have this. Let me have this. You’re not the only one who hasn’t let himself imagine love.”

Anders wants to fight against this but he can’t. Dorian is right. There’s no guarantee of tomorrow, so why not embrace the here and now. This might not last but that’s no reason to cut it off before it even has time to bloom. 

Instead of fighting, Anders embraces these feelings welling up inside his chest. He grabs the back of Dorian’s neck and kisses him again. 

[sexhaver]

it is once again time for me to be extremely normal about building an Obeka deck. my first impression here was to use stuff that scales exponentially on your upkeep or straight up wins you the game after triggering enough (yes i know Endless Ranks needs at least two zombies to get started shut up):

which i think still has potential, HOWEVER. i think the actual direction to take this for consistency is including a bunch of stuff that makes you say "wow, that would be really strong if it survived until my next upkeep" before realizing that would never happen and cutting them from the 99. except it always happens here because you can just play it during your precombat main phase and then get the bonus immediately:

other funny potential includes:

mana rock that turns into a draw 7

mana rock that turns into NINE mana rocks (repeatedly!)

this thoroughly mid piece of equipment becomes busted here because it lets you swing with Obeka the turn you cast her and then doubles her power (and upkeeps) (and almost doubles toughness) every time you connect

i know land destruction in EDH is verboten, but i maintain that it's only a problem if you're Armageddoning for shits and giggles with no gameplan beyond "haha lands go boom". once i get even a single Court of [X] on the field, blowing up everyone's lands actually helps my gameplan because i just need to keep connecting with Obeka, and the benefit of making sure nobody else has the mana for removal or blockers vastly outweighs the detriment of me not having any mana any more

[dunmeshistash]

omg i’m just yapping in your inbox (sorry) but i wonder if elves might have low fertility to begin with (maybe on account of their long lifespans?). their population is in decline due to their low birth rate and their children, when mixed with other races, seem to be infertile no matter the other parent’s lifespan… i wonder if it’s just that their gametes require extremely specific bodily conditions to survive? i don’t understand biology like that lol but i’m thinking about how mithrun seemed to get much colder much quicker than kabru… that could have just been poor circulation or mana exhaustion but he did keep having to wear the coat and scarf so i kind of wonder if a half-elf/half-tallman’s body temperature would be higher than a full-blooded elf’s to enough of a degree that that would impact their fertility

I wonder, my assumption was that the low birthrates were because of just how long they need to care for their young before they reach age of maturity (80 years) I imagine lots can happen in that time? just reaching adulthood takes more than it takes for all the short lived species to be born grow old and die lol

[privatebooth]

The epic battle with the Arishok!

Didn't think I could pull it off, but what do you know!

The world will never know just how much of... everything was put into this :')

Anyway, the duel. Sometimes you just need someone to cheer for you, so Hawke gets his little cheerleading squad! I usually take these guys with me here. Obviously, they couldn't really do much, but at least Hawke had their emotional support.

Fenris remained calm because of course he would. He must have a lot of faith in Hawke to put him forward to fight the effing Arishok! (I use the mod that makes it so he always arranges the duel - even if Isabela comes back. So happy it exists! Without it I only managed to hear this dialogue once - on my very first PT when Isabela left me for real. Got a lot less fun without her, but damn did it make this fight incomparably more epic! That one time we really fought for the entire city, and not just one friend.) Of course Fenris worries, he just really believes in Hawke this much)

Aveline had to accept her helplessness and also trust and rely on Hawke. Bear with it, girl!

Isabela was not thrilled about someone fighting for her, so she's very displeased and not hiding it.

Varric is the most openly worried one here because he's a sweetheart and gives his all to root for his buddy <3

And then Hawke gets stabbed and held up on a blade like a piece of meat and everyone looses their shit, because why the heck wouldn't they?!

With how the Arishok ran his sword through him I'm still not sure how Hawke survived at all. Isabela freaks out because it's all her fault.

Must have been very painful for all of them to stay put while Hawke took a brutal beating, and I'm sure they were all itching to rush to his aid. But no.

Thankfully, Hawke somehow managed to get up and patched himself up. Yay! The city is saved!

I'm a tiny bit bummed that the base difficulty of this fight was significantly lowered down by patches. The first time I played it... It all happened so suddenly I was not prepared at all! Didn't have nearly enough potions, was slow to notice that my foe was immune to fire, and kept wasting mana on useless spells... Running in circles to recharge... and to not die because I did run out of potions at some point. And I really didn't want to replay the game...

Oh, but we couldn't die there: the entire city was at stake!

Just... What an experience! Nothing could possibly compare to it EVER.

Next

[ponett]

(rot 13 because spoilers)

ubj (vs ng nyy) jbhyq gur zber snagnfgvpny enprf bs erirevr or nssrpgrq vs ireranf cyna jrag guebhtu? punenpgref yvxr gur zvabgnhe arjf thlf va fnapghnel be gur haqrnq ryirf va zhzsbeq, onfvpnyyl nalbar jub vfag ornfgsbyx

Hiding this below a read more because of major SLARPG spoilers.

convenient rot13 cypher translation:

how (if at all) would the more fantastical races of reverie be affected if verenas plan went through? characters like the minotaur news guys in sanctuary or the undead elves in mumford, basically anyone who isnt beastfolk

So assuming everything went down exactly how Verena said it would go down in Act III, most people would have made it through her plan relatively unscathed, though they would no longer be able to cast spells. She wasn't trying to drain their life forces or anything, she just wanted to take their excess mana for her own use and prevent them from doing further damage to the planet and each other with magic. And, of course, they would be living in a world that's been completely reshaped into a new form by the Scramblers.

The undead and the robots in Mumford are perhaps a different story, as their bodies technically aren't alive and they run entirely off of magical energy. But as we saw in her POV sequence, Verena didn't even realize that magic was being used to do things like that on Reverie. She would probably take pity on them and leave them enough magic to live, if faced with the choice. It's not like she had a big red button labeled "steal the magic from every person on Reverie," she would probably have to actually go to Mumford to do it and grapple with the fact that they're sentient beings who need it to live.

Frankly, most of the "plan," as it was presented in Act III, was secondary to Verena's actual main goal of just wanting to siphon a bunch of magic to make herself as strong as possible so she could go kill Reverie's gods, avenging Zinnia and her old students. (She admits this before her boss fight, and also when reuniting with the very much still alive Zinnia in the epilogue.) How much would she have actually been able to accomplish beyond that? Who knows! If she was able to steal the gods' planet from them and fix it by freeing it from the "curse" of magic, undoing what she perceives as the biggest mistake of her life and reshaping it to undo the damage done by magic, then hey, icing on the cake. You know, if the Scramblers are even able to craft a fully habitable world. But these were things for future Verena to figure out the specifics for, assuming she even survived her battle with the gods. This was a Verena whose worst impulses were being encouraged and amplified by Javis, not a Verena who was thinking clearly.