#this fight look me like two days on tactician | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bamsywrites · 2 years ago

Text

Guilt (Tyrion Lannister x Reader)

paring: Tyrion x Reader; Tywin x Reader

summary: Tyrion is consumed with guilt as he sees just how his actions have affected you

word count: idk but sure as fuck not 13.k Idk where I got that number from 🤦

tags: pregnant! reader, mentions of miscarriage/infant loss, pretty fucking huge age gaps mentioned. tywin doing tywin things. angsty with some hurt/comfort. there's a lot of plot building as i want to attempt to make this into a series. pining. future friends to lovers.

AN: this is my first time writing in a loooong fucking time. I am open to constructive criticism and feedback. I have plans on making this into a series so let me know if that would interest you. this scenario has been in my maladaptive daydreams for so long lol. Please let me know how you like it!

Tyrion watched you from his spot overlooking the river where the women were doing the washing for the day. An older woman was showing you the best methods for getting stains out from the fabrics of sheets and clothes, you watched with a furrowed brow and genuine curiosity from your seat on a large boulder. Tyrion had noticed this was a new behavior trend of yours. You'd go to the kitchens, the stables, the rivers, all to try and lend a hand or learn. Your noble birth made it so you never had to wash your clothes or clean your rooms or make your food. He'd observed that since arriving in Mereen, you almost seemed to be trying to repent of the sin of being born a noblewoman by doing the chores and duties of those most would consider beneath someone of your birth. Not that you ever thought that way.

Tyrion's eyes drifted down to your swollen belly which you were stroking softly as you watched the woman and he scoffed with a quick swig from a flask of whatever wine he was able to get his hands on. You were nearing the end of your pregnancy, evident by your size and the waddle to which you walked. Dany had been accommodating to your state by having someone around to assist you if need be and keeping a midwife on standby for the impending birth. The queen had been more forgiving than he could have hoped for when it came to the two of you. You had given a rather convincing speech when you had arrived after fleeing Kings Landing. He could still hear the words ring in his mind.

"Your Majesty, I was but a child when your father was overthrown and family murdered. I was a child still when I was betrothed. No choice in my life has ever been my own. I was sold like cattle to the highest bidder and forced to have his children so he could in turn ship them away and form alliances with lords and kings. Everything I have done has been to protect me and my children. All I ever will do is to protect my children. I want them to live a life better than mine and from what I have seen here you would be able to provide that more than any man in Westores currently fighting for the throne. For that, you will have my loyalty."

It was well-spoken and you stood tall while you said it, but he could see the fear in your eyes. How could he blame you? A pregnant woman far from home in the territory of someone who wanted her dead simply because of who she was forced to marry. Staying in the Red Keep wouldn't have bode well for you either, his sister had never been fond of you and with the death of his father, the castle suddenly became very dangerous for you.

Tyrion understood why Tywin wanted to make an alliance with your house. Your father was lord of a southern house that was known for its impressive feats on the field of battle, no one had ever defeated House ____ on the battlefield and most were met with devastating defeats when they were on horseback. The best tacticians Westores had ever seen either came from your house or were mentored by the lords of your house. Tywin wanted that alliance and he was always looking to further his family line but Jamie had made vows and Tywin would rather die than give Tyrion any claim to Casterly Rock. That left him to marry you, which he did. You were young. Very young. He remembered how scared you looked on your wedding day as his father covered you in a robe of Lannister Red.

You'd done your duty as a wife very well. 6 years since your wedding to his father and you'd had several pregnancies and two living children - daughters much to Tywins dismay. You bore him a son named Tytos but he fell asleep one night never to wake again. Tyrion remembered that day very well, he walked into the hall to see his father holding you as you sobbed, pressing a kiss to your head and looking as vulnerable as Tyrion had ever seen him. Tywin always seemed to respect you and held some possessiveness over the fact that you were his lady wife. You were spoiled by him as was expected, always in the finest dresses and jewelry. Tywin made an example of anyone who dared to disrespect you, even if that person was the boy king himself. He seemed to value your intellect and wit, finding bragging rights in your brains and beauty. A fact that drove Ceresi mad. Though Tyrion supposed, the way Tywin treats your daughters was an even bigger slight to the Queen Regent.

Trysta and Nataria.

Tywin doted on them more than he did you. It was made known behind closed doors that Tywin would keep putting babes in your belly until you gave him an "heir and a spare" but there was a light to his eyes when his youngest daughters were around that made it known he cared for them too. There was an affection there that Tyrion did not remember his father showing Ceresi or Jamie as children. A fact confirmed by the jealousy his sister had for the two young girls, Jamie had never made a comment on it but he enjoyed the company of your daughters very much.

They were very sweet girls, with your eyes but the signature Lannister hair. Trysta was the eldest at five years old, she was smart and sassy, a combination that always brought a smile to Tyrion's face. There was nothing like watching a noble lord be put in their place by a small girl in a pink dress, knowing that they dare not comment back for fear of facing her father's wrath. Nataria was younger, still not quite speaking in full sentences yet, and always wanting to be picked up by anyone who would take her. Tyrion would never forget walking into the tower of the hand to see her sat on Tywins lap with her head nuzzled into his chest as she napped. Tywin informed Tyrion that the babe you were carrying was making you ill and the handmaids were unable to get her to stop crying. He didn't look up from the papers scattered across his desk and his voice was as stern and emotionless as it always was. It was almost alien to see it, to see how much Tywin was capable of some form of care for his children. Tywin often made the comment that his first three children were disappointments and that he was going to make sure his next turned out differently.

You had made the smart choice to send the two girls to stay with your family after Jofferys murder. Kings Landing was not safe for them and both girls adored Tyrion. You had not wanted them to witness his trial or execution or to be brought into the middle of dangerous court politics. You probably would have joined them if Tywin had allowed it. Tyrion was sad he never got to say goodbye to them. He loved them as much as they loved him, always reading books or buying trinkets for them. He missed them dearly but knew you missed them more.

Especially today. It was Nataria's second name day.

Tyrion was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of your laugh as you watched the children play in the water and their splashes of water soaking your dress and hair. He noticed that your laugh didn't quite reach your eyes and the guilt panged through him.

It's your fault. It's your fault. It's your fault.

You were distracting yourself, he realized, from the pain of what today meant. The pain of not being with your children. The pain of not knowing when you will see them again. He couldn't imagine the pain in your heart. Almost like you knew what he was thinking, your eyes locked with his and he gave you a curt nod before standing and heading away from the river.

---

Later that night he saw you again, sat in the gardens of a courtyard lit by the stars, and a few torches spread over the area. There was a piece of parchment paper in your lap and your fingers were playing with a necklace around your neck. Tyrion noticed your beauty in the light of the stars. The way the flames from the torches flicked across your features. He always knew you were beautiful but it was dawning on him that you were more than beautiful. He sometimes found the air leaving his lungs if the light hit you right. The sound of your laugh, your voice, when he heard you sing it was like the whole world stood still. It wasn't fair, he thought, that someone as kind and smart and witty as you could also be so beautiful.

The sound of a muffled sob brought him out of his thoughts and he felt that searing guilt tear threw him once more.

It's your fault. It's your fault. It's your fault.

His feet moved him through the courtyard and he sat next to you in silence. You quickly wiped at your eyes and shoved the paper, what Tyrion could now see was an old letter from your father about how your daughters were doing, into your dress. The two sat in silence for a few moments, neither knowing what to say. You'd always treated Tyrion with such respect and kindness and he'd returned the favor to you. You never let Tywin taint your view of him.

"You've been avoiding me," your voice cut through the silence.

It was true. He hadn't spoken more than a few sentences since defending you to the Queen when you were brought to her throne room. "And yet you have been watching my every move."

He nodded, eyes fixated on a particular patch of grass in the courtyard. "Always observant aren't you?" His voice was soft.

"You'd think someone of your size would be better at hiding but alas....."

Your comment made him laugh. The first laugh in a long time.

"Spying is not my strong suit, I must admit. Drinking, books, and whores are my real talents." His eyes traveled over to you and he noticed your small smile.

Your smile shouldn't cause him to feel the way he was.

The two of you sat in silence for a long while after that. It wasn't an awkward silence, neither of you seemed to know how to get the thoughts flowing through your head to form into words. There was so much to say, so much to explain. You broke first.

"I miss them," Your voice wavered and your lip trembled. "I miss them so. It feels as though my heart has been ripped out of my chest." The tears started to fall all at once, Tyrion swore he could hear them hit the ground like rain.

It's your fault. It's your fault. It's your fault

"Every time the babe inside me moves, I remember how it felt to feel them move too. I think of them from the moment I wake to the moment I sleep and then I dream of them. Are they happy? Are they safe? Where are they? When will I see them?" You rambled through the thickness of your tears, your fingers gripping tightly at the fabric of your dress.

Tyrion hesitantly grabbed your hand in his, afraid you'd hurt yourself and gave it a small squeeze.

"Your sister...Oh, your sister...she hates them. She hates me. She'll have them killed. I can't...I can't.." you choked on sob after sob

He said your name softly and moved to stand in front of you so he could look into your eyes. The tears falling down your cheeks and hitting the skirt of your dress broke his heart.

It's your fault. It's your fault. It's your fault

"Ceresi is many things. A hateful bitch is among one of her most prominent attributes. But, she is not stupid enough to wage war on your family. Her hatred for me consumes her. Last I heard they think I kidnapped you." He almost laughed bitterly at the thought. Remembering how he rushed you out of The Red Keep, it wasn't too far from the truth. "And despite even with all of that aside. Do you think Jamie would let her? Let her kill your children? Our sisters?" In truth, he had no idea what would happen but he had to hope. He had to have faith that his choice wouldn't lead to the fatalities of you and your daughters.

Your arms quickly wrapped around him and your face nuzzled into his neck. For a moment he just stood there in shock, this was the closest you'd ever been to him and he found himself enamored with how you smelt and soft you felt. But soon he ran his fingers through your hair in an attempt to soothe you. Tyrion could feel your hot tears on his shoulder and the mantra repeated in his head.

It's your fault. It's your fault. It's your fault.

"I'm so fucking sorry," He whispered into your hair. "I'm so sorry."

You pulled away and he found himself missing your warmth. He told himself it was because he wasn't used to such interaction, which wasn't a lie, but there was a stirring deep within him that he had to push down and hide. That would only bring him more shame and heartbreak and insult you further than he already has.

"All my life, my father hated me for killing my mother and for being a dwarf. He loathed my very existence. The only thing that kept me alive was my name. I was a Lannister. And then he lets me be led like a lamb to slaughter for a murder he knew I didn't commit. My only option is death or going to The Wall, there's not much difference there as people seem to think. He takes the woman I love and turns her against me, having her lie to all of Kings Landing. And then I find he's fucking her..." Tears were starting to well in his eyes now as he remembered Shae and how it felt to find her in his father's bed. "I didn't think about the consequences. Not for you or the girls until after it was done."

He remembered how the lamp light flickered across your face as you stood there, hand on your belly and mouth agape as he held the crossbow. He remembered how it felt to have the realization slap him in the face. Tywin had become fond of using you to belittle Cerasi, often saying you were more worthy to be a Lannister than she was. Cerasi was jealous of how Tywin seemed to care for and respect you. You wouldn't last long at The Red Keep. Tyrion remembered the scared look in your eyes as he took your wrist in a harsh grasp and led you through the corridors to where he was to meet Varys.

He was pulled from his memories when he could feel your fingertips lightly brush away his tears. "It's my fault," Tyrion's voice broke as he said those words to you, "and I can never express how sorry I am."

You swallowed thickly and looked at him for a moment before your eyes drifted up to the night sky. You were quiet again and this time the silence was thick and heavy. Tyrion could see your brain working hard to formulate thoughts and feelings into words.

"I was 15 when I was betrothed to Tywin," You said softly, your eyes still on the stars. "My father was so excited. The Lannisters would make a great ally and I was the only daughter he had to offer. For two years I waited, knowing that I was to be married to a man who rode into battle with my grandfather. It was the day after my 17th name day that we were wed. Within a year I had Trysta." Your tongue peaked out to wet your lips. "Tywin was not a moral man. He was not a good man. He was a smart man. An ambitious man. But not a good one. I know he respected me, I think he may have cared for me in his own complicated way. I know he cared for our children. But he was old and mean and arrogant."

Tyrion was silent as you spoke, you two had talked in the past for hours about books and history but you never quite opened up about your relationship with his father. Your eyes fell down to your lap and you picked at a loose string.

"I may be cursed for thinking it but I do not miss him. I miss my home. I miss Casterly Rock. I miss the sea and the beach. I miss Trysta and Nataria. But I do not miss Tywin. I am not naive enough to think that I will ever experience what it's like to be loved...to marry for love. That's not a reality for high-born women but I do hope the next time I'm married off it's to someone who is less of an ass."

Tyrion stood there for a moment and then took your face into his hands, "I promise you by whatever Gods are listening that I will get you back home. Back to your children. Or I will die trying." And he meant it.

You simply nodded. He took his seat next to you, his hand resting atop yours. The two of you sat there in a peaceful silence looking at the stars with his hand on yours and you weren't sure how long for. It could have been 15 minutes or two hours. When Tyrion noticed your head starting to bob and your eyes struggled to stay open, he stood up and silently offered you his arm.

The walk to your room was quiet. He had more he wanted to say to you but he knew this was not the time to say it. Once he got to your door he didn't know what to say, he didn't know if he should say anything. He cleared his throat and rested his arm at his side.

"If you, uhm, if you need me...." His voice trailed off.

"I know," you nodded, "thank you." You placed a soft kiss on his forehead before disappearing into your room.

Tyrion stood there for a moment, frustration rushing over him like waves. It was happening. He could feel the feeling creep into his heart: he was falling in love with the woman he widowed and he wasn't sure how to stop it.

#tyrion lannister x reader #tyrion x reader #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones fanfiction #tywin x reader #tywin lannister x reader #game of thrones reader insert #reader insert

1K notes · View notes

missygoesmeow · 10 months ago

Text

missy's tips for honour mode :) (it's very long I'm sorry) (oh and here be many spoilers) (but pictures too!)

please note I am not a pro gamer or anything. I sucked so bad when I first started this game (I had no idea wtf I was doing). Like seriously. I didn't know what an action was. what a bonus action was. "No movement left". WHAT DO YOU MEAN NO MOVEMENT LEFT. I had played DnD once before.

I literally bought this game because of Astarion.

I usually play one game and that is Overwatch. the only other time I stopped playing OW was to play Resident Evil: Village because of Lady D. vampire marketing works on me. specifically evil vampire. damn u Neil and Maggie.

if you have any questions about a specific boss or something feel free to ask! I didn't fight everyone though - like I did not do House of Grief because I didn't need to and also it's hard :)

I think a lot of it just came on down to...

ANYWAY. letsa go! this is very rambling!

Like I said in my reply to anon, the best tip is to do tactician FIRST. You’ll get destroyed otherwise. I didn’t finish my tactician run but I did get to act 3 and I did most boss fights (Gortash, Raphael, Cazador). Bosses have legendary actions in tactician and it’s fucking annoying. All the homies hate radiant retort….

Another tip is fucking collect everything. It’s hard to get gold and certain potion ingredients later on. Potion of Speed (you need hyena ears for this) is the BEST. I used them for my Ketheric fight (second phase) and killed him in three turns. I also used them for the final fight and used one or two with Raphael and Orin.

Smokepowder Barrels. I think people call this Barrelmancy? I didn't use them much. I hoarded them for one reason and one reason only.

To blow Raphael.

His soul pillar towers that is. To blow up his pillars. His big long pillars.

Okay I'm done.

(also I did use three in my last fight against the brain - popped them next to it and blew 'em up) Elixir of Bloodlust - sooooo handy with Astarion!

Invisibility Potion is a must - I used this to escape fights when three people were deaded (this happened a few times😅) and get my good friend Withers to bring them back.

bonus tip: don't go into a fight with half your spell slots because you think "she'll be right". she won't be...as seen above

HOLY FUCK WITHERS. You can pickpocket Withers. I used Astarion to get our money back anytime I resurrected, changed class or got a hireling - he doesn’t care if you fail either, just keep trying.

DON'T BE DUMB LIKE MISSY Don't be like me, don't half pay attention in cut scenes and accidentally press the wrong dialogue option. Or else your good friend Lae'zel will turn on you and you will have A Bad Time.

Gale has a stressful day💗

The githyanki are scary and actually now that I think about it, those were usually the fights I had to run away from like a leetle biatch.

Halsin has a stressful day 💗

I forgot that Psionic Backlash is like a thing that does damage and that if your entire worm filled party does it and the person you are casting is at like...say 19 health...they will die because that is not Passive Damage.

And then Jaheira will leave because you murdered her friend.

Oopsie.

(I lost Shart, Lae'Zel and Jaheira in this run) GENERAL STUFF

Always surprise the enemy if you can, it’s a massive advantage!

Get the eye from Volo. This run was not about looking pretty, it was about getting any advantage I could get. Let that man poke out your eyeball. And make sure it’s your Tav, you will mostly likely swap companions and it’s just better if it’s you. It's helpful in a lot of fights but especially Auntie Ethel

Become half illithid. I did this with my Tav, Gale and Minthara. Astarion was a little bitch about it so I didn’t give it to him but I wish I had made him do it.

She looks Not Great but she can fly (sorry Astarion but Z'hera only likes pussy)

Being able to fly is just SO helpful and cull the weak is OP! Also mmmmm worms :)

MY BUILD/PARTY

A Giant Woman (my tiefling) as a Paladin - Oath of Vengeance.

I broke my oath when I ascended Astarion but you can just get it back. Oathbreaker is still good (that’s what I was in my tactician run) but I wanted my channel divinity charges. I started with the Everburn Blade from the cambion Commander Zhalk on the Nautaloid (when you get Shart, give her the Command Spell and use “Drop” so you can just yoink it off him and save a fight). My final weapon was the Nyrulna which you can get in Act 3 at the Circus. To get this you must pickpocket the genie to take his ring and then play his game. He will accuse you of cheating and send you somewher. The prize at the end is this weapon. I love it. I just went invisible and walked through, I didn’t fight the creatures there.

Astarion - the classic gloomstalker/assasin. I had one level assasin and then did 6 levels ranger before going back to assassin. So he was 6 levels in each. With him ascended, he does INSANE damage. I never swap out that vamp, he’s too useful.

Shart/Minthara - I lost Shart in the Shadowfell - wouldn't let her murder Dame Aylin.

a simpler time. before I killed my beloved and my brain was full of worms.

I had to fight her (it was very sad). I changed her class to Life of Domain Cleric. I then made Minthara my cleric when Shart died (same build). She replaced my lover and my cleric <3

i love my new evil girlfriend

Gale - Evocation Wizard so I didn’t change him at all!

he's so hopeful. and Z'hera is very gay.

TIPS FOR POTIONS

If it’s throwable (like invisibility) group the gang together to throw one on the ground to get you all - saves using multiple.

Potion of Speed has an effect called lethargic that is active for one round after the potion ends. This means you miss a turn. HOWEVER! If you drink another one on the last active round of the potion, your Tav will become lethargic immediately and next round you’ll be fine :) I did this for the Ketheric fight.

It’s also helpful (because of lethargic) to not have all characters take the potion in the same round (if you give it to everyone). I never did, I usually gave them to Gale and my Tav.

I hoarded so many scrolls. I had so many dimension door scrolls at the end.

I did get the Necromancy of Thay and did all the things. And then I never used it :)

BIGGEST TIP ONCE YOU'VE UNLOCKING LEVEL 6 SPELL SLOT WITH CLERIC (ALSO AVAILABLE WITH DRUID)

I saw this on reddit! Pretty much what I did was get a hireling - Cleric - and have that Cleric cast Heroes' Feast on my party.

The affected entity is immune to Diseases, Poisons, and being Frightened, it makes all Wisdom Saving throws with Advantage, and its maximum Hit Points are increased by 12

Lasts until long rest!! I also then cast Freedom of Movement on everyone in the party. I then cast Warding Bond on someone - usually Gale because he's a squishy boy :) If I knew it was a BIG FIGHT! I got another Cleric to cast Warding Bond on another party member.

you can see Heroes' Feast (the condition is called Thoroughly Stuffed) and Freedom of Movement. These all last until long rest!

Pretty much any other companions were respeced as Cleric (though I made Jaheira a Wizard same as Gale so I could use her). I did this so that I could use Divine Intervention multiple times within the game!

I used Opulent Revival and nothing else

KEEP IN MIND.

anything can kill you in honour mode. even an elevator.

it crushed me. somehow.

thanks Larian

(if you want proper guides definitely go to Reddit!)

#missy the honourable #missy meows #bg3 #bg3 honour mode #this is very long and rambling #sorry!#but im no guy on reddit

37 notes · View notes

kaija-rayne-author · 2 months ago

Text

Review 2 in series for Dragon Age Veilguard

Spoilers for Veilguard

First part of review series is below.

I'm not an asshole disclaimer (same as the first one, if you read that, you can just skip down to the cut.)

Something came to my attention. I need to make it crystal clear that I utterly love the diversity in DAV. It's fantastic. I'm also a heavily left leaning, non-binary, queer as fuck reviewer, editor, and author.

I'm on media blackout while I play this, so I'm only getting second-hand info on how awful it is right now in the DA Fandom. Please be safe and take care of yourselves. Arguing with incels and white supremacists is completely pointless. They sea lion worse than an actual sea lion. Your mental health is important.

Though, every single time the anti-queer brigade comes out for a new DA game, I sit there thinking 'have you bozos ever played any DA game, like, ever?' My guess is nope.

9 hours in, 7 hours playtime.

Negative review

While I'm incredibly grateful that I can play this game, because I really hope the story actually starts soon, (yes, I said it, the pacing on this is terrible, and I'm both an editor and a writer, I have a clue). I hate to say... I am soooo glad I didn't buy it. Or I'd be demanding a refund. I didn’t actually look at the price tag, but it must’ve been around $80 Canadian. Given our cost of living crisis, that's obscene but whatever. Games are expensive.

It's just not worth that much in its current state. Sure. Games on release often have bugs. I kinda hate spending money to be an unpaid beta tester. BG3 had nowhere near as many.

My computer comes down right around the middle of the minimum and recommended specs. DA4 doesn't even make it get hot like BG3 makes it. So I'm really thinking glitchy game vs computer issues. Considering I'm not the only one it's happening to... welp. (I looked the glitch up, it's pretty common.)

5 out of 10 loads, my character glitches back to the stock elf body. And if I continue playing, it corrupts my saves and they won't load. It has also happened mid-battle, too. So I have to figure out which save to go back to before the glitch bit. Which, without pics in the save files is fun /s.

'Balanced' play isn’t. I play on tactician/hard in most games. I'm on balanced, and keep fucking dying. TBH I'm not extremely awesome with the controls and moves yet, but I'm not bad either. I honestly just think the bad guys are too overpowered (way too fast, hit too hard, and it takes too long to break their armour) for beginning levels. And yes, I have my Rook in the best armour I currently have. Maybe if I could carry more than 3 potions, it wouldn't matter as much, but IDEK man.

And you know what isn't actually any fun in games? Dying a lot. Also? Having to drop my difficulty level for regular bad guys less than ten hours into the game. It's still teaching me moves ffs, so is sorta the tutorial. I'm not a 'get gud' type. I think that's ridiculous. Gaming is supposed to be fun. If it makes it more fun to drop the level for a boss fight or whatever, more power to you. But I usually don't have to until end-game material. If I have to at all. It's honestly pretty rare. Load time is ridiculous, so every time an over-powered not-a-fucking-darkspawn slams my rogue (which I swear shouldn't be possible, I know how to fight with rogues, they're my first and favourite class), I get creamed because I'm bloody stuck in a place I shouldn't get stuck in.

I know they had testing on this. Wasn't that why the date was pushed back? My memory isn't great since COVID but I think I might’ve seen that somewhere.

Solavellans will likely be disappointed in the first seven hours. You see Solas twice. He may as well not even be in the game.

And I really hate to say this, but I'm just bored. I wasn’t itching to play it like I usually am with good games. (If a game catches me up, it's about the only thing I want to do.) I still loaded it up tonight, didn’t have anything better to do. (Because I'd probably have done that instead.) I'm mostly playing so I know what happens in the story myself. And I was hoping we'd get some answers to all this lore that lives in my head, rent free. So, whatever, I'm still hoping it will catch me up. I'll keep playing in hopes we actually get something resembling a story at some point soon.

And the number of editorial errors is ridiculous. Both developmental and copy.

'Cause bodies can't decompose in the Anderfels? Because nothing external lives there? Granted, I have specialized knowledge there (former forensic anthropologist) but, that isn't remotely how decomp works.

Does your 3 week old raw hamburger not rot because it was in a cold, dark place without any external decomposers? (My 17 year old knew the correct answer to that, so did my 12 year old.)

The primary forms of humanoid/mammalian decomposition come from inside us. Bugs don't even start showing up for a bit. Why do you think bodies bloat? Our gut bacteria going wild. Why do you think bodies are routinely embalmed? No bugs (usually) in a funeral home or morgue either.

And y'know? I actually outright told Epler on Twitter (before it went to complete hell) that he needed a better editor or 4 after playing DAI. And DAV already has more editorial issues than I noticed in the whole first half of DAI. Way to prove my point.

I'm an exacting editor. I'm pretty good at it. And I don't expect perfection in anything. Perfectionism is a trauma response, after all. But so many errors so soon? Really?

I'm not even getting into the story issues. Because I'm still hoping we actually, y'know, get to a story? And if I'm really lucky? That story will cover some of the glaring errors.

But so far? I'm not impressed. I've never, since I started playing DA games, been fucking bored.

Next one is here:

#Dragon Age Veilguard #DAV #DA4 #Veilguard #Veilguard Critical #Dragon Age Veilguard Critical

15 notes · View notes

baelpenrose · 18 days ago

Text

Project Praetorian 60: Arrival, Part VI

The Battle of Philidelphia finally ends, with a maneuver that sees the Praetorians take the fight out of Earth's gravity well, and the enemy finally withdraw.

Beta-read by @canyouhearthelight and @writing-with-olive

Mark

“Okay. Here’s the plan.” He was looking at the radar, which exhaustingly revealed that the aliens were coming in hot on more dropships - though not the command shuttle. He had to find some way of stripping their shields again, even if it nearly killed him, to try to stop off that trickle of reinforcements.

Which meant that he’d probably be out of action for a while, but it also meant he could do the most damage on the ground - with Xavier and him splitting focus to rip apart the enemy assault.

Which, in turn, led to the conclusion that Echo would be leading the attack on the ship, but while she was actually doing techy shit, she’d need someone else managing the operation…

He glanced at Jared. From what he’d seen so far, Jared was capable of balancing risk and reward, and good at improvising. He wasn’t sure he liked the ex-Nazi, yet, but Jared had been an excellent and ruthless fighter, and one who’d repeatedly proven willing to put himself on the sharp end. The fact that Jared was, in his own right, a decent tactician, and had done the math Mark had hoped after their initial confrontation…

Mark made his snap decision and divided his command.

“Okay. Two teams. Ground team, for discouraging alien landings and tearing apart any Ascendancy trooper who manages to touch Terran soil: me, Seraph, Boombox, Deadeye, Mags, and Titan. We’re going to support the troopers on the ground and keep them alive as best we can. Cipher, you and Frost are in command of the Shuttle Assault team. You will take Siren, Whiplash, Cat and Glitch. Get aboard the carrier, and take it down. Return alive. Do not waste any time or take any unnecessary risks. Skyflower, do not leave the shuttle.”

Jared looked at him in surprise, and Echo blinked.

“Yes. I trust you two to manage. Frost, do not let Cipher come to any harm under any circumstances. This war, as it stands, hinges on her as our most vital strategic asset. Keep her alive.”

Jared looked him up and down, then glanced at Echo, pale eyes inscrutable. Then he saluted. “Understood, Lieutenant.”

Echo shot him a look. “They’re gonna get the guns back online before too much longer, you know that, right? And once I’m on, I’ll be too busy to take them back off before we take the carrier down.”

“Then take it down fast, because I’d rather do that than wind up retreating and have them glass this place off the map once they get the guns online again anyway.”

Echo nodded. “Got it. I’ll get the shuttle online.”

Mark was already looking at the GPS, already praying he hadn’t sent friends to their deaths, and was already hearing Vergil note the positions of more alien dropships coming in, the screams of troopers minding radar. Bastards couldn’t even bother hiding from radar, like they knew human interceptors weren’t a…hm. No, wait. Shielding itself made radar irrelevant, but it also increased radar profile because of the way it projected…hm. If things were already locked…

He sprinted over and started drawing in the standing static from all the plasma shots. “Skyflower, hold takeoff. Mags, standby with AED.”

Then he raked the sky with lightning again.

And this time he dropped, seizing, vision gray, arm alight with agony, chest burning, and found himself breathing again, his arm no longer destroyed. He could barely stand, his nerves having been regrown a second time in less than a day, and Shiloh was shaky.

But the sky above Philly was now being torn with interceptors, and as he watched another dropship was blasted from the sky.

And their captured shuttle streaked skyward, under the cover of hundreds of surface-to-air missiles.

“Okay. Start the battle. Fuck this. This city is fully evac’d, right?” He said, thinking. “There a gas main along any of the avenues they’re advancing through?”

***

Molly

She was still buzzing with anxiety when she climbed into the shuttle. But felt, without knowing how, that this ship would be the death of someone she loved, maybe herself, maybe others. Needed to say it. As Echo booted the drives up, and Amaryllis touched the controls, she strapped in, nervously.

“Skyflower, are you sure?”

“I don’t love that Storm decided my first flight on this thing should be in live fire combat, but I’ll manage. Fly in, fly out. Survive. Hold on.” They started heading up, and Molly held on.

She had read somewhere that astronauts usually got sick when they started breaching the atmosphere, but whatever this shuttle was built from, whatever alien machinery it had, was keeping her from feeling the acceleration.

She didn’t dare look back, but she saw, on the instruments, that they were clearing atmosphere. Echo had forced her language model onto the alien computer. “Approaching alien ship. Cipher, send the signal, let them think we need to dock.”

Echo nodded, then did something Molly couldn’t see. She had to pray that it was going to work. She could see - through the viewport, that thing had to be enormous - the carrier. Massive, sleek, grey-green, with weapon emplacements all over. The ship loomed, shaped like a massive claw, in orbit - though absent the beacon, it now seemed a little less perfectly orbiting than it had, as though the navigators were trying to actively keep it on course.

Molly bit her tongue as Echo nodded. “We’re clear for landing. Docking port at your 2.”

“10-4.” Amaryllis was already steering in.

Jared nodded. “Unstrap, everyone. Lock and load, we’re probably dropping hot. Siren, get ready for another one of those interference frequencies - I don’t want us eating plasma on entry. See if you can’t spray down whatever their hangar security is with your carbine while you do it.”

Echo nodded. “Right. Looks like our first stop is along this wing by the hangar - there seems to be a shaft we can take almost straight to the main reactor. We could make a play for the guns to try to get pressure off the team if…”

Almost as if on cue, the massive ship shuddered and a massive pulse of actinic fire erupted from a weapon emplacement on it’s belly. Molly didn’t see what it hit, but she knew the guns were back online.

To her surprise, Jared shook his head. “Longer we can go without them being aware we’re here, the better. I don’t like our chances if we have to fight our way in and out of this place. Honestly, Micah - how far can you straight teleport us? Like if I ask you to get you and me to the reactor, can you do it from the hangar?”

Micah thought. “Cipher, how far from the hangar to the reactor?

“Just pure space? About half a klick if you could go in a straight line. Problem is you can’t.”

Micah thought. “Yeah. I can do that. If I only have to take one person.”

Amaryllis was almost in. Skyflower gently set the ship down. Molly bit her lip, then stopped. She took a breath in as they landed. Their hangar port was slowly repressurized - and she took a breath as a group of aliens moved into the hangar - a handful of the big Hulks, who mostly seemed to be here to check on the machinery, one that was carrying what looked like power cells - and many, many Croaks who were carrying containers of something else.

None of those were what had Molly worried. None of those, in fact, were even armed. No, what had Molly worried was the team of Spikes, almost twenty of them, that had moved into the hangar as a security team, blasters at their shoulders. She took a breath, warmed up her voice, and double-checked her rifle.

Then Amaryllis dropped the ramp and she desperately cried out the note, twisting it as it ripped through the air, hoping to stall the aliens before they could fire. If even one got a shot off, she knew, they were all dead.

Jared snap-threw a grenade out through the gap in the door, and even as she started singing, she heard the horrible buzz that meant an alien was trying to shoot but couldn’t, that buzzing itself would mess with her frequency - but then they were in sight and already they were out of the hatch, moving, guns blazing. She felt her heart pounding as she kept the note up, firing as rapidly as she could, Spikes dropping. She found her magazine empty, then rapidly reloaded, took a breath, and dove as a plasma bolt struck the shuttle they’d taken in. She fired again and saw a Spike’s leg blown off at the knee before Jared executed it, then saw Mia run around the side of the shuttle and lit up more of them.

Then Kimmy was among them SMG blazing, and the last of them were down. The Croaks were running and before she was even aware of what she was doing she was throwing a frag into the midst of them, and watching as Jared and Micah coldly gunned down the bigger worker aliens. After her grenade exploded in a rough thump, Molly walked over and began gunning down wounded Croaks.

Maybe, maybe once it would have bothered her.

But that was before one of these things had turned Annette into a smear on the wall. One of the aliens tried to crawl away, its forelimbs burned and damaged, one of its back legs missing entirely.

She raised her pistol and executed it without pausing. Only after the last of them was dead did it hit her that the girl she’d been when she’d arrived would never have recognized the girl she’d become.

Jared was already grabbing Micah. “Okay. Can we get to the reactor?”

“Are you certain we can take it solo?”

Molly watched as Mia zipped over to the hangar door, and checked it. “No company!”

Kimmy was breathing hard, but all the blood drying on her armor right now was the wrong color to be hers. The gymnast gave her a weak smile. “You okay?”

Molly nodded, blushing a little at the acrobat’s grin. “Doing fine. You?”

“So far.”

Jared and Micah had apparently reached some kind of decision, one that Micah clearly didn’t care for. They were talking to Echo and with barely an effort Molly brought the sound of the conversation to herself and Kimmy.

“-Just keep on the comms. Guide us in, and tell us when we’ve cracked it so we can get out.”

“Take out the pylons, then I’ll turn the shielding off once you’re clear. Once that’s taken care of, I upload a virus that takes them offline while the ship fails.”

Mia screamed. “Guys we have company!”

Molly rushed to the bulkhead, deeply amused to finally, finally, have a place where cover existed against the alien machines. She saw, out of the corner of her eye, Jared and Micah vanish.

Vergil

Headshot. Another Spike slumped down, brains splattered over a wall behind it. The eye not close to the scope picked up movement, and Vergil twitched his crosshairs just a little over, then fired again. Another Spike dropped, the round having slammed straight through its spine and leaving an exit wound the size of a small plate.

Jonathan was raining hell, but Vergil’s concern was far more precise. Spot enemy elites, kill them. Honestly, at this point, he was starting to note indicators of rank. Some of what seemed to be the officers wore adornments on their horns, or slight changes in the limited armor the aliens wore, and Vergil was learning to target those.

“Deadeye, check west?”

He did - “Uh…Scope’s clear. No contact. Wait, small fireteam setting up north of west. Four blocks. Be careful on approach.”

“Understood. Start potting them. There’s a bigger force coming up and we want to cut it off.”

Vergil was still confused about why the higher ups weren’t just letting Mark call down artillery on the bigger groups, but Mark seemed like he already had a plan.

That sounded entirely too ominous for Vergil’s taste, but he dutifully focused his fire on the advancing squad. It was at that point he actually started seeing the force that Mark was worried about - a small group of armored vehicles, at least a few tanks, a huge group of Croaks. Dozens of Spikes. Not in formation, but Croaks were being used as infantry screens even as the Spikes were moving along the buildings.

Mortars were still pounding other avenues, further off - and Vergil dropped another of the Spikes that was trying to reposition.

Then he got a sight of Casey and Xavier, acting stealthy for once. That surprised him. He could see from here that Mark was checking some kind of map, then indicating something to Xavier. Xavier raised his launcher, focused, and fired.

A thump, a crack, then a roar. Vergil saw something blow, beyond just the grenade, or even what Xavier could do with it. Then a blast of flame, one that tore open part of the street, one that raced up the avenue, ripped the fronts off buildings as the noise escalated and the flames ripped down the street towards the aliens.

The aliens had turned towards the formation - and Mark whipped the bits of shattered building with magnetism, raking them deeper into the damaged cover, flushing out any enemy hiding in them, and Vergil watched Spike blood trickle out the broken store high rises as Mark turned the now burning buildings into blenders.

It hit him all at once what had happened. Xavier had blown open a gas main and then he and Casey had turned it into a fuel-air bomb. Mark had taken metal blown loose by the explosion and used it to flush out anything too well covered to be killed.

Vergil snapped out of it, head pounding from the noise. They were already pulling away from the tanks, calling for Jonathan over the comms.

He was already redirecting his own fire, knowing that when Jonathan moved he’d need to start fucking up the alien officers to let Jonathan reposition and disrupt the Ascendancy enough that they’d be off balance when the other three jumped into the force Jonathan and Shiloh had been standing off with more conventional arms.

He didn’t get the chance to see what happened next - a blast rocked his bones, and he glanced over.

“Alien orbital fire back online!”

“Yeah, no shit. Just keep Titan covered. I need that switch to go smooth. Leave downtown to the US Army - unless they were the ones that just ate that shot.”

Jonathan was racing across, smashing something out of his way. Vergil was reloading, then firing, keeping up. It was strange to watch Jonathan serve as the mobile anti-armor, but it was what they had, even as Mark used plasma static to fuck up the tanks’ ability to target Jonathan.

Xavier and Casey were already repositioning to start firing on the alien forces that Jonathan had pinned down - but they’d circled from the north, and when they descended, they began slaughtering with fire and thunder like murderous angels.

There were a small group of troopers - Imperator troopers - fighting their way up the avenue. Shiloh rushed towards them. Vergil immediately saw why. Leading that squad was Curtis, face blistered and armor splattered.

That group was already pushing back into cover, engaging an advance with light machine guns and rifles, and Vergil added the weight of his fire to them. A plasma blast tore open a building and sent shrapnel flying, ripping one man’s face open, and Shiloh almost casually threw him to the ground, healed him, and shoved him back into cover.

Curtis flashed the kids a grin as Shiloh began firing at the aliens, face distorted in a savage snarl. Vergil saw a strange blur in the window and for a moment felt a surge of panic - then he fired, and saw a spray of dark blood. He kept his weapon closely trained on them. Not a chance were those invisible fuckers coming near his family again.

Micah

Being alone with Jared wasn’t exactly the most comfortable. Neither was flying into space with a totally untested craft they’d just captured. Neither was teleporting into an unknown part of a starship with unknown opposition.

Actually, almost every part of this had Micah ready to have a full tilt panic attack, and when they appeared in the reactor room, only for Jared to immediately shoot the two Spikes in the room and then immediately turn on the Croaks…

He started hyperventilating. Then he saw something new. An alien they hadn’t seen yet. There were the big ones, the Hulks - Jared was already firing on them, and grimly, Micah joined - but there was a species they knew existed but hadn’t seen.

Skinny, extremely gangly, with oblong, sloping skulls that looked almost like beetles in shape, with bodies that resembled upright salamanders, limbs more akin to those of a sloth…These must be the Slenders that had become the Ascendancy’s ruling caste. Supposedly incredibly intelligent, but physically weak. Used high technology to compel the allegiance of the Spikes, who had then…

Jared, face distorted in hate, was already walking over, and smashed one of them in the face with his rifle butt. It raised it’s hands, too slowly, and Jared smashed it again. And again. Micah was hyperventilating, but there was a rage in him. All the Spikes, all the death - it was the fault of these things. Being taken from his home wouldn’t have happened if not for the things standing in front of him. He shouldn’t have been here and next thing he knew he was screaming at them and had pulled his combat knife.

The ruined bodies of the Slenders would have been useless for Koleth to autopsy, but Jared grinned savagely at it. “Damn. Okay. Micah, I want it out loud and not just because of what we just did. I am sorry I ever called you a pussy. You are a badass.”

Micah looked at what he’d done to an enemy incapable of defending itself and felt sick. He started checking his ammunition, started checking the distance from here to the hangar…Jared put a hand on his shoulder. “Dude. You alright?”

Micah gave a half-hearted laugh. “No! We just murdered those things! We’re going to be doing this til we die or we’ve gone so insane that that makes sense! Allah yagfir lana, Frost, that doesn’t terrify you?”

Jared paused. “I’ll answer that on the way down. For now…” He keyed the comms.

“Cipher, we’re in position.”

“Yeah, uh…checked the schema. We’re holding out. Fuck up the pylons before I take down the shielding, and have Glitch move you the minute the pylons are down. There’s gonna be enough free-flowing radiation once both those are out that you don’t want to be there without shielding.”

Micah nodded. He looked around. There was some kind of dome of translucent material he didn’t know, and inside glowed a sphere that looked like a tiny sun. It didn’t hurt his eyes to look at it, though it was painfully bright. Surrounding that were several things that looked almost like…he’d seen a Tesla coil at a museum once, and this almost looked like that, but the connections looked…off.

Jared picked up the blaster and began heating the pylons. “Okay. Here goes. Keep anything that comes in off me.”

The next few minutes were the most tense in Micah’s life as Jared did it over and over. Shattering and melting one pylon after another. He let the sounds of cracking, screaming metal wash over him, collected the vibration, collected the sound, focused on the distance, and when Jared at last tore free the last one, it felt loud. Too loud. Like the ship was starting to shake. Jared grabbed him and they both shook, he went dizzy, and they were back in the hangar.

The first thing he saw was Kimmy backflipping. Then he saw that she’d done it to get away from a Spike. She pulled her pistol and shot it - her rifle had been shattered and lay away from her. Echo was still at a distance. Mia had picked up one of those fast-firing needle weapons that some of the aliens carried as sidearms and was spraying it down a corridor.

Echo cursed. “Okay, shielding down, can’t keep them from just flushing the airlock, get on the ship, NOW NOW!”

They bolted for the ship, Kimmy, then Micah heard Jared shout for him to get Echo. He sprinted to Echo, on the far side of the hangar from the boarding ramp to their captured shuttle.

He saw Jared go for Mia - start covering her as she bolted back, then back up onto the boarding ramp.

And Jared still wasn’t aboard the ship, even as Mia sprinted for it, starting to cover him, and Kimmy grabbed Amaryllis’s SMG and started covering them too.

Micah grabbed Echo as she started running and they warped back onto the ship.

“SKYFLOWER GET US OUT OF HERE!” Jared jumped aboard and the ramp came up.

Echo grinned as they took off. “I lied. I had started the depressurization when I said it. I didn’t want them evacuating. We’re out.”

They started falling through the atmosphere, Amaryllis laughing. “Holy shit. WE just took it down.”

Micah was laughing - but he saw how Jared looked at him, and fist bumped the other boy. He saw Mia looking at Jared, and he saw Kimmy and Molly staring at each other.

Jared muttered to Micah. “No. It doesn’t bother me. Because long as I’m here, I never have to go back to where I was, the people I was dealing with that made my cousin look good, and I can stick with you all. Probably going to die, but before I do, maybe I score with someone I would have been too stupid to notice before I got here. There’s definitely worse ways to live.”

“We’re coming down - Cypher, help me out, this is gonna be a trick. I know it was helpful but I do wish we hadn’t trashed that beacon.”

Xavier

“Almost got them!”

The aliens were now fully panicking. Groups of them were falling back, retreating, or otherwise bolting. The Army had managed to push it’s way out of an attempted encirclement and repay the attack, and now the Imperator troopers they were fighting alongside were pressing the attack.

Shiloh had been heroic - after Curtis’s squad had arrived, almost all of them were swearing up and down that the medic was the only reason most of them would be serving, and not a one was exaggerating. They now moved as a living screen around Shiloh when the medic broke cover, ignoring Shiloh’s pleas for them to stop.

Then Mark said something. “Colonel, General, I’m going to switch to all channels and ask you to repeat that, if it is convenient.”

“Acceptable, Lieutenant,” Xavier suddenly heard someone say. “The enemy are routing. Additional forces are surrounding the remainder. There seem to be some kind of pods dropping from the destroyed ship - your team is closest. Can you retrieve them? Once you do, fall back to base. You’ve already won this battle.”

“Understood, Colonel.”

Echo’s voice rattled over comms on their way over to the indicated coordinates. “Carrier eliminated. We’re all okay! We’re coming down, Amaryllis wants her normal gunship back.”

Xavier started laughing.

The drop pods turned out to contain a species whose existence Echo had confirmed but which Xavier had never seen. A handful of them, only. Sloping, large heads, slothlike limbs, and salamander-like bodies. The creatures panicked when captured. But they did now have prisoners - ones they hoped could be exchanged or used as diplomatic tokens.

When they got back aboard the gunship - with the prisoners in tow - they looked out over Philly. Over half the city was in ruins, and God only knew how many had died.

But their first major battle had been a victory, at least on paper.

Echo cursed as she glanced at the data pad. “‘Report. Multiple Ascendancy super carriers detected. Predicting simultaneous arrival within the month.’”

The team froze. Multiple supercarriers.

All of that had just been with one.

Molly glanced at Kimmy, and Xavier saw her desperately reach out a hand.

Casey spoke. “Not over, is it?”

“Not close. We’ll need to make some kind of statement. Ideally before they get here. People are scared. Let’s give them something to believe in.”

At that, Xavier smiled. It was time for them to commit. To really go for broke on keeping that promise to each other, made under the stars when they’d first heard the rumor of what was coming. To make themselves the public face that couldn’t be ignored.

#writblr #writers on tumblr #Project Praetorian #my writing #original fiction #science fiction #traumatized characters #found family #my fiction #sci fi #fiction #tw: guns #tw: violence #tw: explosions

5 notes · View notes

darklydeliciousdesires · 1 year ago

Text

Immortal Beloved - Chapter Eleven.

Previous chapters - Prologue One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 3,414

Warnings - 18+ only. Adult themes + vampire content throughout. Minors DNI!

With her love sleeping soundly, Bryn began to feel restless in the hour she had left before the dawn broke, pulling on her long, deep blue silk nightgown and matching floral robe, exiting the bedroom. Touring the corridors of Arrow House as she made her way to the stairs, she smiled to see the traces of herself there within the home. Her flourishing friendship with her soon-to-be sister-in-law meant that Grace consulted her at every turn where furnishing the property with art and antiquities was concerned.

The softly spoken Irish beauty had excellent taste, Bryn only needing to advise her here and there over certain pieces, all of which she had received a very nice little discount for purchasing. The Johan Baptist Reiter painting that hung to the left as she descended the bottom of the staircase looked particularly lovely in its placement. Just like Bryn herself, Grace had a fondness for Biedermeier.

Sensing a presence in the sitting room, she gravitated in that direction, pushing the slightly ajar door open to see Tommy sitting by the fire, a cigarette in one hand and a whiskey in the other.

“Tired our John out, have you?”

She laughed softly through her nose, Tommy rising from his seat, gesturing to the whiskey bottle.

“Please,” she spoke, sitting down. “And yes, for now.”

“I didn’t mean to be coarse, but the sound travels well in this house,” he commented, pouring the whiskey into a tumbler and passing it to her.

“The high ceilings often bode well for good acoustics. I apologise if my wailing awoke you. Your brother is nothing short of a very gifted lover.”

Tommy shook his head, returning to his seat. “Wasn’t that.” A shadow crept across his features, one he did well to hide from any other person. Bryn was a different matter entirely, though.

“The German guns still haunt you.”

Her assertion earned her a fixed stare, his cool eyes softening a touch as he slowly brought the cigarette to his lips, the tobacco embers crackling. “Didn’t think I was that obvious.”

“You aren’t,” she smiled, “but nothing gets past me. I know the look of a man haunted by his past, by the horrors that still dance a cruel waltz within his mind at everything he saw and should not have had to.” She paused, trailing the rim of the glass with her fingernail. “I tire of witnessing the harm that befalls young men, sent off to fight in the wars concocted by those who never leave their seats of power to fight alongside them. I never sent anyone into a battle that I did not join them in myself, too.”

“John mentioned that you were quite the tactician back in your human days. A warlord, I believe he coined it.”

She nodded, sipping her drink. “Correct, yes.”

“Then it puzzles me why, with that kind of experience, you have fled your enemies for so very long,” he spoke. “Surely your brilliance dictates you could thwart them all, especially taking your strength into consideration.”

A prickle of annoyance skipped over her chest, but Bryn remained calm. “You should know better than anyone, Tommy, that strength is found in numbers where war is concerned. My kind has been hunted to near eradication within England. I have no allies left, and I shall die before I bring my children into this. I am, however, currently in a phase of contemplation. Something happened tonight, something that meant I intend to put down roots in Birmingham. I can hide no longer, so therefore I must begin to strike back against those who have hunted me.”

He cocked his head, watching how the diamonds upon her finger glittered in the firelight, smiling softly. “It fits, then? He was having a right old panic over whether it would.” Watching a small frown settle between her eyebrows as her mouth twisted into a curious smile, he elaborated. “I got dragged to the Jewellery Quarter to help him pick it. Never seen our John in that much of a bloody flap over anything.”

His words touched her, Bryn imagining her sweet love losing his cool over which ring to choose. “Now that I am to be married, you see why I no longer wish to flit from place to place, to keep them guessing with guards upon the doors of my various residences across the globe. In order to do that, though, I must begin in making strikes against them.”

His next question was only natural, Tommy leaning forward in his seat. “And how do you propose to do that?”

Bryn smirked, mirroring his lean. “Setting the kind of trap they shan’t be able to refuse falling into, Tommy.”

It took many more moving pieces in the first phase to begin dismantling the Rasmusen’s infrastructure than just Bryn herself, five large vans en route to her London residence the day after Boxing Day. Predictably, they had a tail, which was exactly what John wanted as he sat in the passenger seat, Johnny Dogs driving.

“It’s a good job they weren’t convinced over the serving girl’s statement that Brynhild wasn’t there?” he stated, negotiating the bends that led them down over the main route into the capital.

John sniffed, taking a swig of whiskey from his hip flask. “I said to Pol she likely weren’t the only one they sent to spy our movements, and yeah, Dogs. I’m glad of it.” Looking in the wing mirror, the car that followed them appeared as a deep maroon dot in the distance, John lifting his chin as he swallowed hard. He just hoped that a few of the men within were notable within the family, for their strike to have the desired effect.

Once they had arrived at 14 Holland Park Road, John jumped out and headed to the front door, Bryn’s neatly pencilled list withing his grasp of the items they were to take from the property and transport back to Birmingham. He nodded at the two men under the employment of Alfie Solomons upon the door, pushing in the key into the lock and opening it up.

“Right, lads,” he began, standing outside of the large sitting room as he perused the list. “All the paintings from the ground, first and second floors, the baby grand, every vase and ornament and leave the rest. Get the packing cases in and hop to it.”

He had personally been tasked with bringing a few items of her clothing and all of her jewellery, Bryn not wanting anyone but her future husband rifling through her personal items, heading up to her bedroom to begin collecting those very belongings.

“Nice bed,” he muttered upon entrance, looking over as he strode to the wardrobe, “shame I won’t get to bounce her around on it for a few hours.” Once the designer pieces she’d listed had been pulled out, her furs as well, he went to the safe and removed all of her jewels, placing each into the heavy hessian sack he carried, picking up the clothing and exiting swiftly. Not before leaving a few items around before he did.

The house was emptied of everything she’d requested within two hours, the team heading back up to Birmingham minus their tail, who stayed parked up at the end of the road.

“Ay, what aren’t we following ‘em, Pat?”

Watching the vans driven by the Peaky Blinders pass them by, Patrick Rasmussen turned to Stanley, nodding back at the house. “Guards are still on the doors, lad. Since they only came back this morning, it means she’s still in there. I think it’s safe to assume she’s on the move, though, what with the contents of her house being cleared out by the Peaky lads. Go down to the phone box and call in with me dad, get him to have one team follow the van, but most of the lads to come down here and wait. We strike on her tonight, as soon as they step away from the door.”

Patrick thought he was being clever, but sadly for him, Brynhild Leifsdottir was much cleverer than he’d ever be able to anticipate...

“Ahh, look now. Pulled over for a break, they have,” spoke Matthew Rasmussen, the very man tasked with following the vans heading back to Birmingham, having been sat awaiting word from Edward on when to move. “Reet, lads. Ready yourselves. Not that we’ll need to, like. We’ve got ‘em well outnumbered.”

His grin of triumph fixed itself firmly, getting to strike a coup against the Peaky Blinders and partially disarm of her allies the vampire menace who had evaded his family for so long in one fell swoop, Matthew noticing there only to be eight men standing around smoking and chatting by the five vans pulled over at the side of the road.

Between his car and the other that followed, ten Rasmussen family members and associates strode out, guns ready, the scent of success bolstering them with every step.

“Can I help you lads?” John asked, flicking his cigarette away.

“Aye, lad. You can stand still and get shot,” Matthew chirped, aiming the gun in his hand towards his head.

“Are we getting shot today, John?” Johnny Dogs asked casually with a sniff. “Didn’t think it was a shooting day today, I didn’t?”

“Nah, Dogs. We ain’t getting shot today, mush.” John’s grin broadened, Matthew shaking his head, about to deliver his final words before the man before him spoke again. “Brynhild sends her regards.”

Perhaps if his brother Patrick was paying greater attention, he would have noticed that one the five vans in the convoy was not filled with the antiquities belonging to the vampire. Tragically for Matthew, nobody noticed until it was too late that it was instead filled with eight Peaky Blinders who stepped out with machine guns, rapidly opening fire.

“Back home by teatime then, John boy?” Arthur spoke casually, once the hail of bullets had ceased. Lowering the machine gun in his grasp, he walked to Matthew’s corpse, snorting deeply before spitting onto his face. “Fucking cunt.”

“Ar, brother. Let’s get off.”

With one team eradicated, the second sat patiently in their vehicles upon Holland Park Road, waiting for any signs of life within the property. At just gone five-thirty in the evening, a rapidly zooming Bryn opened the French windows at the rear of her house, looking around to see the items her love had left out in preparation before taking a tour of the home.

“I shall miss you, beautiful house,” she hummed, her fingertips trailing over each piece of furniture as she passed it by. “It is a most worthy trade, though.”

Entering her bedroom, she held a hand to her chest at the sight of a single red rose laid upon the bed, a note accompanying.

Hurry back when you’re done, sweetheart. I have plans, and they all involve burying my tongue and then my cock inside you until you’re screaming x

Romantic, yet filthy. That was her John to an absolute tee. Taking the note, she tucked it into the pocket of her smart, black trouser suit, pushing the rose into the long braid in her hair before moving downstairs and opening the front door.

“Evening, chaps,” she spoke warmly, giving them both a little wedge of notes each. “Go and enjoy yourselves. As explained to Mr Solomons I shall no longer be requiring his guard services, but please do inform him there shall be a very nice cheque to follow in the post as a personal token of my appreciation.”

The taller of the two nodded, lifting his hat to her. “A pleasure, Ms Leifsdottir. Thank you, ma’am.”

Bryn made sure she stood at the front door for long enough to be noticed while waving them away in their car, closing it behind her and heading to the sitting room in wait. They arrived in two units, as she suspected they would, the first storming the front door and the second the rear, twenty Rasmussen men filling the space.

“Finally,” Patrick grinned, the men surrounding her, “we’re fucking got you cornered at last. Stan, get her in chains.”

“Oh, no, no, my dear,” she hummed, shaking her head.

“No?” he laughed, Stan moving towards her. “We’ve got you surrounded, pet. One move and its curtains for you, it is.”

“My associates say differently, as do the trip wires you’re all about to stumble upon.”

Patrick and his men halted immediately, indeed seeing wires all boxing the area in which the vampire stood, Bryn flicking her hands. Sparks of ignition lit the very shortened fuses upon the strategically placed sticks of dynamite, her fangs glistening as she grinned. “Now, what is that my soon to be husband says, hmm? Ah yes. By order of the Peaky Blinders,” she laughed, delivering her final words with a wave. “Fuck you.”

She was gone out of the open French windows within a blink, her entire house exploding into inferno the next, Bryn hovering high above in the air to watch the fireball engulf her former home, and the twenty Rasmussen’s within it. The reflection of the flames twinkled in her eyes, Bryn feeling a piece of herself return.

“Splendid.” With that, she left London, racing through the night air rapidly, returned to Birmingham in just under fifteen minutes. She was so swift, in fact, she even beat John home, her beloved arriving not long after her, giving his coat and cap to a waiting Arthur and removing his boots before calling through the house.

“Where’s me bab?”

“Bedroom, darling,” she replied. He took the stairs two at a time, turning right to enter the bedroom, not seeing her anywhere in sight. His mouth upturned to feel her arms slide around him from behind, delicate fingers unknotting his tie as she laid kisses to his cheek.

“How’d it go?”

“With a very big bang,” she purred, tongue swiping a lick upon his cheek.

He turned, clasping her nakedness to him, laying lustful kisses upon her neck while his fingers went to her wavy, freshly undone hair. “Just like the rest of your night, then.” The scent of her lightly perfumed skin pulled at him like a heady intoxicant, his clothes all shed by the time they reached the bed, lying back and taking her with him.

His hands moved in slow tour down her back, grasping the rounded cheeks of her bum, making her squeal when he laid a hard slap to each. “Get up here,” he rasped, winking as he grasped her hips. “You know exactly where I want ya.”

Taking to her knees, she shuffled up the bed, levelling herself with his head. He pushed his elbows against her thighs, bringing her down until her sex met the long, firm swipe of his tongue. His breath misted hot against her cool folds, her skin soon warming to the blazing warmth of his mouth with every lick he pushed against her, groaning as the sharp honey of her cunt began to bathe his tongue.

His fingers trailed over the ancient etchings upon her hips, pattering up to her breasts, evoking an earthy moan as he began to roll her nipples into peaks between his thumbs and forefingers. Heat streaked over her nerves like a hail of comets as his lips wrapped her clit in a firm suck, tongue gently rolling, her thighs twitching in response.

The rich groan rumbling through his throat as she reached back to clasp his cock vibrated through her, Bryn pausing to lick her hand wet before curling it around his hardness again, a breathy sigh leaving her parted lips as he sank his tongue into the wet of her cunt. The pleasure surged through her, hips purling against his mouth, her hand working him to steel, all while crying out softly at the speed his tongue beat against her bud with.

He had her embers stoking to flames rapidly, the burn much too smouldering to withstand without him being inside her. The slick of her cunt grazed his abs as she moved down, and it sent a bolt through him, lightning that struck deep again as she speared herself upon his cock, leaning to circle his nipple with her tongue. Her walls flexed around him as the heat of his cock radiated through her, warming her walls as it dragged against them, her teeth closing in soft bite on his nipple, running a lick from his chest up to his mouth.

The momentum gathered rapidly, little shocks of burning pleasure skittering through them as their bodies moved together in perfect sync, Bryn leaving raspberry trails of lust upon the lily white of his chest with her nails. His muscles bounced beneath the clawed contact, the feeling sinking down to his bones as he watched her tits bounce, his hands moving to cup them before he reached for her neck, pulling her down to his level,

Moving to hold her in a grasp upon her hips, her wail sounded through the air as he fucked up into her hard, their tongues swirling, kisses all heat and sin, John making her shriek and giggle when he moved a hand to begin laying hard smacks upon the round of her bum.

“Fucking can’t wait for you to be my wife.” he groaned, kisses moving to her neck.

To be somebody’s wife again, she could scarcely believe it, to have finally found a man who loved her that much after crossing oceans of time alone.

Witnessing the wattage of her luminous smile was all the answer he needed, their mouths meeting again as he turned her onto her back, limbs locking around one another as sublime love and burning lust met in perfect alchemy.

Once they’d spent time thoroughly enjoying themselves, they lay idly stroking one another, Bryn’s nail trailing from freckle to freckle, mapping the constellation upon his shoulder. They were the stars, his body the endless sky she wished to sail through. Come January the first, it would be a month since he’d first met her and yet, it felt like a year. Already he struggled to remember a life without his beloved in it, and he never wanted that for either of them again.

“I’ve been thinking,” he began, Bryn reaching to the side of his head, miming winding a crank handle. “Oi, cheeky mare. Less of that.” Despite himself, he still laughed, his amused chuckles joining the tinkle of her giggles.

“So yeah, I’ve been thinking, right, about the future. After everything you’ve told me about your long life, it wouldn’t be fair for me to make you watch me grow old and eventually have to lose me an’ all. Once Katie is a bit older and won’t need me to be around for her quite so much, especially not in the daytime, I want you to make me vampire. I dunno, though, like will it cause issues, you being the one to do it?”

She understood the connotations clearly, since the bond between creator and offspring as just as deep, if not deeper than a human parent and child. There was an exception, though. “It shan’t, no. It is different if a vampire turns their lover or spouse. It is called Amantes Vinculum Sanguinis, which is Latin for the lover's blood bond.” Her eyes sparkled at him through the amber haze of the candle and firelight bathing the room in a warm glow, shaking her head softly. “You truly want this, to join me forever?”

He leaned to her, nuzzling her nose softly. “’Course I fucking do. Well, I dunno. I might get fed up of ya in five hundred years, but I doubt it.”

Her fist met the side of his neck in a playful punch. “I have never met anybody who has ever loved me that much before, to want to walk the darkness with me for all eternity.”

“Well, now you have,” he affirmed, linking his fingers through hers. “I reckon you probably have, though. You just ain’t ever wanted to let ‘em in, have ya?”

How well he knew her, understood her on an instinctual level. “I suppose this is fair reasoning, my darling. For you to propose this, though, goodness,” she began, reaching to stroke his face. “Nobody has ever meant more to me than you, John. I love you so completely and endlessly.”

The way he kissed her mirrored those words entirely.

#john shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfiction #john shelby smut #peaky blinders smut #john shelby x ofc #john shelby fanfic #john shelby fic #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fic #immortal beloved #john and bryn

24 notes · View notes

awakenthemusic · 1 year ago

Text

Close Shave

Dean hissed in a sharp breath as the razor nicked him, yet again. He blotted at the cut with a wad of toilet paper he'd brought in from the bathroom, preferring to perform his unintentional bloodletting in the privacy of his bedroom. He cursed the cast on his right wrist and reached for the styptic pen with a sigh just as a knock sounded on his door.

Tags: Short fic, ~1,000 words, Destiel, Fluff, UST

For Suptober 2023 Day 10 - Close Shave

Under the cut or on Ao3

"Yeah?"

Cas popped his head into Dean's room, saw what he was doing, then came in, closing the door behind him. "Dean, I know you don't want me to heal you—"

"You don't have enough juice right now to take care of my arm, and wasting what you got on a couple of nicks would just be stupid." Dean tried not to growl in his frustration. Of all the rotten luck, he would go and break his damn arm in the middle of a milk-run ghost hunt, leaving him to fumble through doing the most basic, everyday tasks like a clumsy child.

Cas shot him a look and continued, "So, I'll help you in a different capacity." He plucked the razor off the edge of the sink where Dean had set it down to take care of his most recent cut and rinsed it thoroughly in the sink.

Dean's eyebrows shot up when Cas turned to him with an expectant look on his face, brandishing the blade. "Uh, what did you have in mind, there, Cas?"

"You are struggling to take care of this task without the use of your dominant hand, so I will take care of it for you."

"Right..." Dean's mind hiccoughed over Cas' use of the word 'dominant' while standing so close, but he kicked it back into gear enough to process Cas' actual meaning. "Wait, you're gonna give me a shave?"

Cas rolled his eyes. "I have no desire to see you cut and bloody and, although I can't heal you, I do have full use of both my hands. You trust me, don't you?"

"Yeah, of course," The words rolled off Dean's tongue easily. The sky is blue. Two plus two equals four. Dean trusts Cas... to get all up in his personal space and drag a sharp blade slowly over the very vulnerable, very sensitive skin of his throat... wait.

"Cas," Dean started, scrambling for something reasonable to say to stop this train wreck before it got any further down the track. "You, uh, you haven't even been shaving that long yourself, are you sure you wanna risk—"

"I may have only started shaving recently, but I have been wielding blades on the battlefield for millennia, Dean" Cas scoffed, stepping closer and using a finger to tilt Dean's chin up.

The razor slid a chilly path down Dean's cheek, though whether his sudden urge to shiver was from the chill or from the reminder that Cas was such a badass in a fight was anyone's guess.

Dean stood frozen, his vision full of nothing but Cas, face serious, blue eyes bright and oh-so-damn close as Cas concentrated on his task.

Cas rinsed the blade again, scowling down at his finger, which now had a smear of shaving cream on it from Dean's chin. Ever the tactician, Cas squinted at Dean's jaw, his head tilted as he thought through his options. He rinsed and dried his hand, then solved his problem by threading his fingers into Dean's hair, using his grip there to tilt Dean's head in whichever way he needed.

Dean didn't quite manage to completely stifle the whimper that rose up in his throat at the delicious pressure in his scalp.

Cas froze, loosening his hold on Dean's hair and saying, "Sorry, did I pull too hard?"

"No," Dean's voice came out breathy and an octave or two too high to be called anything but a squeak. He cleared his throat and said, "No," again, then had to clamp his lips down over the urge to say, pull harder.

Cas hummed, threading his fingers back into Dean's hair and tilting Dean's head back to start on his neck.

Fuck, Dean thought, willing his knees not to give out as Cas dragged the blade slowly over Dean's pulse point.

It was about this time that Dean remembered that he was standing in his bedroom, about ten feet from his bed, in pajama pants that would do nothing to hide the situation if he popped a boner.

The rest of the shave involved a hell of a lot of Dean remembering, in vivid detail, some of the more gruesome corpses he’d ever seen in an effort to avoid embarrassing himself in front of Cas. In the end, he had to tug down his tee while Cas was still focused on his face and hope that that covered things.

"There," Cas said in satisfaction as he used a damp washcloth to clean the last of the shaving cream from Dean's face. "Much better! And see?" He grabbed Dean's chin and turned it until Dean was looking in the direction of his mirror. "I didn't cut you once."

Dean nodded in a daze of blue eyes, tingly scalp, and stinging skin. "Thanks, Cas."

Cas smiled proudly. "You're welcome, Dean." He glanced around Dean's room and asked, "Is there anything else you've been having trouble doing by yourself?"

Dean's brain (the traitor) leaped immediately to one other area where he'd found his left hand just wasn't quite cutting it, and his eyes darted over toward his bed before he could stop them, his (also traitorous) dick leaping at the suggestion. "No!" He rushed out, too fast and too loud. "No, Cas, that's fine. I don't, uh, I don't think I need help with anything else."

Cas frowned slightly, not fooled by Dean's pathetic attempt to cover up. "Alright," He said slowly. "Well, let me know when you're ready for another shave. If you think of anything else I can do—"

"Nope," Dean lied. "Can't think of a thing. Thanks again, Cas. Bye!" He slammed the door shut behind Cas, his entire body thrumming as his stupid brain helpfully supplied images of exactly what he'd like Cas to do for him.

He barely had the presence of mind to lock the door before stumbling over to his bed.

A pathetically short amount of time later, Dean lay, staring at his ceiling, breathing heavily, trying to decide if he should be grateful that he only shaved once every couple of days, or disappointed.

#suptober23 #destiel #fanfic #fanfiction #spn #supernatural #myfics

42 notes · View notes

hils79 · 1 year ago

Text

Hils Watches The King's Avatar - Ep 37

Uh...you can't just change the league rules right before the final. That's something you do between seasons. Yes, I know I need to stop acting like this is real sports

I love that they all immediately turn to their maths expert to tell them how this will impact their game. Luo Ji really is the unsung hero of this drama

I really love their dynamic. I wish we had time for more of this

They're like a little dysfunctional family. Like most of the teams in this drama

That's none of your fucking business, my dude

I knew he was going to bench her. What a dick. Well, that's your loss. She's one of your best players.

So he's told her she's not allowed to play in the final but he's happy for her to lead strategy meetings. Make it make sense.

Personal growth

It's funny because the game is called Glory. Also, wasn't Yang Yang in a drama called You Are My Glory?

I love this. First Chang Xian gave a Ye Xiu fan sign to Ye Xiu's dad and now he's given some of those inflatable noodle things (seriously what are those) to Ye Xiu's on/off boyfriend. Ooh but if Wenqing is there does that mean the other captains are there too? GIVE ME SOME BLUE RAIN HUSBANDS

There's Wang Jiexi. Come on where are they??

THERE THEY ARE! Oh my god are they doing the commentary of the game? Amazing! And look at this Shaotian is running his mouth and Wenzhou is smiling fondly. Business as usual.

Wait, who is Zhou Zekai?

Oh, wait, I think someone on discord told me about him. Is he the one from the book who is ridiculously good looking but doesn't like talking so makes his vice captain do it. We were joking that Zhu Yilong should play him. He's probably a bit old now but back in his Guardian days when he used to give one word answers during interviews :D

I love them

I love him

I swear I won't make the rest of this liveblog about them. But I love them.

I would honestly watch a whole drama of these two bickering

Shaotian: It's nice to see a tactician being taught a thing or two Wenzhou, a tactician: Excuse me?

And, lol, this is my 800th screenshot

Oh is this going to be a thing where they all bring skills from their day jobs to their game? If so I love it!

I'm glad the girlfriends are back together

Shaotian: Stop hiding and fight! This is boring! Other commentator: ...you literally do this all the time

Xiao Shiqin just stood up and wished my son good luck. I'm fine I'm not crying at all

Ahhhh! Yifan's other boyfriend is there too! He has to win!

Do these two have history that I have somehow forgotten? Yifan trapped Xiao Shiqin in an ice trap and Xiao Shiqin looked over and smiled at him like 'well done'.

GDI the fight isn't over and that's the end of the episode.

#hils watches #hils watches the king's avatar #hils watches cdramas #the king's avatar #cdrama

30 notes · View notes

soul-eater-novel · 2 years ago

Text

P182

関所へと戻っていく斥候に、マッシュも続いて馬を走らせた。 Mathiu made to follow after the scout as the latter turned to go back to the checkpoint.

しかしティルは呆然とデュナンの流れの向こう、東の彼方のゴウラン地方を見つめたまま、動こうとしなかった。 But Tir just stared out past the flowing waters of the Dunan river, dumbfounded. He gazed east, in the direction of the Goran region, not moving a muscle.

馬を止めたままのティルに気づいて、マッシュが馬を返した。 Noticing that Tir hadn’t come with him, Mathiu reined his horse in and trotted back to his side.

マッシュはティルの前に立ち、厳しい目を向けて言う。 The look he gave Tir was relentless.

「ティル殿…．．、お気持ちはわかります……。しかしあなたにもわかっていたはずです。いずれはこの日が来ることを……」 “Lord Tir… I understand how you must feel. But you knew this day would come.”

確かにマッシュの言う通りだった。 Of course, Mathiu was right.

いつかは父と戦う日が来るかもしれない解放軍の全権を継いだ時、確かにティルもそう思った。 Tir had known when he became the leader of the Liberation Army that there might come a day when he would have to fight his own father.

だがその時、ティルは父との戦いを避ける術が、きっとどこかにあるはずだと思っていた。 But he had thought that, surely, he would be able to find a way to avoid it.

だからこそティルは、帝国と戦い続けることができた。 That was precisely why he had been able to continue to fight the Empire.

たとえわずかであっても、その可能性を信じることで。 Even if the chance was slight, he had still held out hope.

しかし父との戦いが迫っている今、もう逃げることは許されなかった。 Now that the day was drawing near, however, he could no longer escape the fact of reality.

ティルの胸のなかで不安は迷いに変わり、目の前の現実が彼に決断を迫っていた。 The unease in his breast turned to doubt and hesitation as he realized he would have to make his decision, and soon.

「ティル殿……」マッシュが言った。 “Lord Tir…” Mathiu murmured.

「うん、わかっている…」 “Yes, I know,” Tir replied sadly.

p183

沈んだ声でそう答え、ティルはマッシュと共に、関所に向けて馬を走らせた。 The young leader and his tactician charged at full speed side by side on their steeds toward the Garan checkpoint.

--------

ティルが重い気持ちで関所の広間に足を踏み入れると、そこに居城から駆けつけたサンチェスと共に、一人の女性が立っていた。 Tir stepped into the checkpoint meeting hall with a heavy heart. A young woman stood waiting there with Sanchez, who had come running from their castle headquarters.

赤い薄手の衣の下に鎖帷子を着込み、鮮やかな黒髪の合間に悲しげな瞳を光らせたその女性は、ティルを見るなり。 The woman wore a thin red garment atop chainmail. Her eyes partly hidden by her gleaming black bangs, she watched Tir with what looked like a sorrowful expression.

ぺこりと頭を下げた。 She bobbed her head in a bow.

「ティル様、私はロッカクの里の忍び、カスミと申します」 “Lord Tir. I am Kasumi, a ninja from the Rokkaku hamlet.”

カスミの瞳を見つめたまま、ティルが言う。 Tir gazed into her eyes as he responded.

「カスミさん、早速ですが、あなたの村が襲われた時の状況を詳しく教えてくださいませんか？」 “Ms. Kasumi. Forgive me for jumping straight to the point, but could you please tell us in more detail about what precisely happened when your village was attacked?”

「はい……」 “Yes, certainly.”

低い声で、カスミはテオの軍との戦いを話しはじめた。 In her low, quiet voice, Kasumi began to tell the story of how Teo’s army had attacked.

それによるとテオの軍は完全武装で、国内最強とうたわれた鉄甲騎馬隊を率いているという。 Not only had Teo’s forces been armed to the teeth, but their ranks included the Gulhorse—the armored cavalry said to be the strongest in the Empire.

鉄甲騎馬隊はガルホースという動物に鉄の鎧を着せ、それに甲胄を着込んだ兵が乗った部隊だ。 The Gulhorse are beasts outfitted in iron armor of their own, and the riders are also clad in armor and helmets.

ガルホースは太い尻尾でバランスを取り、発達した後ろ足で立ち上がり草原を駆ける。 The creatures stand upon two well-developed hind legs and use their large tails to maintain their balance.

体は褐色の体毛で覆われ、走る速度は馬と同じくらいだが、瞬発力と跳躍力はそれを遥かに上回る。 Their bodies are covered in fur such a rich color of brown it is nearly black. They can race across fields at the same speed as a horse, but their physical strength and ability to jump far exceeds a horse’s.

体も頑丈で、馬二頭くらいなら体当たりで弾き飛ばせるほどだ。 The Gulhorse’s bodies are sturdy; one ramming attack from a Gulhorse can send two regular horses flying.

持久力がないのが唯一の欠点だが、ガルホースが疲れはじめる頃には相手部隊を壊滅状態に追いやっているのが常だった。 Their only flaw is their lack of stamina, but their opponents are usually completely destroyed by the time the Gulhorses begin to tire.

P184

しかしガルホースは扱いが難しいため、帝国五将軍のなかでは唯一テオだけが鉄甲騎馬隊を有していたのだった。 Since Gulhorses were known to be so difficult to use, Teo was the only one of the five imperial generals to incorporate them into his forces.

カスミが話を続けている間に、知らせを聞きつけた将たちが広間に��まってきた。 While Kasumi spoke, the leaders who had heard the news began to gather in the room.

「ついにこの時が来たか……」腕組みをしてクレオが言った。。 “So it’s come to this…” Cleo said, folding her arms.

パーンも複雑な表情で呟く。「俺はテオ様と、戦うことになるのか……」 “You mean I’m gonna have to fight Lord Tir…?” muttered Pahn, a complicated expression on his face.

ビクトールとフリックも、鉄甲騎馬隊の脅威にただただ驚いていた。 Viktor and Flik were both astonished at the threat that the armored cavalry units posed.

ティルもカスミの話を聞いて愕然としていた。 Tir listened to Kasumi in shocked silence.

テオが鉄甲騎馬隊を率いているということが、彼にひとつの事実を告げていた。 The most vital piece of information he gleaned from Kasumi’s tidings was his father’s intentions.

父さんは、本気で僕らと戦おうとしているーー。 Father really is serious about fighting us.

皆の顔を見回して、カスミが続ける。 Kasumi looked around at everyone present and then continued.

「我が村の敗色が濃厚になった時、我らの頭領ハンゾウはこのことを解放軍に報せるよう私に命じました。 “When it looked very likely that our village would be defeated, our leader Hanzo ordered me to convey this information to the Liberation Army.

テオの軍が南下しはじめたところをみますと、もう我々の仲間は……」 And since Teo’s army has begun moving south, I fear that my village and my comrades are…”

言葉を止めたカスミだったが、小さく息を吸い込むと、ティルを真っ直ぐに見つめた。 Kasumi stopped herself from finishing that sentence and took a breath. She looked Tir right in the eye.

「ティル様…、我が村のことは、もうどうしようもありません。 “Lord Tir… there is nothing more that can be done for my village.

しかし今ここで解放軍までが壊滅したら、いったい誰が帝国を正すのでしょう？ But if the Liberation Army gets destroyed now, then who will put a stop to the Empire?

どうかティル様、テオ・マクドールの軍勢を止めてくださいませ。 Please, Lord Tir, you must stop Teo McDohl’s army somehow.

微力ながら、私も戦いに参加させていただきますゆえ…」 It may not be much, but I would lend my own strength to fight in the coming battle.”

[ «-first // previous // next // archive // Ramsus-kun Scanslations ]

#Suikoden #Soul Eater #Chapter 19 #Kasumi #!!!

14 notes · View notes

aquanthis · 1 year ago

Note

tell me more about linore and linestelle separately .They both look so cute I want to learn. please. looks at you with autism in my eyes

OH YES i loooove talking about my less talked about wow ocs >:3c ty for asking!

both of these girls have Issues™, though which of my wow ocs don't tbh. i'll start with linore because she's just a little more developed <3

putting this under a read more because it is. Long

^ full version of the screenshot i used for the carrd btw

Huntmaster Linore Featherbow, the Stars' Fury

my BESTIE. she's a marksmanship hunter + a huntmaster :) she wields thori'dal because i can do whatever i want. teehee. she's transfem and bisexual and a horse girl. dw about it

she's very, uh, stable? i guess? firm and grounded, more logical than emotional. she's very gentle, though, which is why she works so well with her horses. she's honest and forgiving, though not to the point of being spineless. she didn't have strong feelings toward the horde until uh. well. You Know. and now she's more distrustful than she feels comfortable with. she's an amazing tactician and a great leader, though sometimes she's a little more cautious than her position demands, and sometimes it saves her ass. depends on the day. :)

she grew up learning skinning/leatherworking from her father, who was a talented leatherworker working in darnassus. her parents were relatively overprotective, so she wasn't allowed to go out hunting with her father for a long time, despite her keen interest in it. she'd work with him in the shop though, and has a great love and respect for the craft. eventually, when she got older, she finally talked her parents into letting her go, and she honed her skill with the intention to eventually take over for her father.

unfortunately, uh! both of her parents died in the fire. so . she had to do that earlier than expected.

she also had a childhood friend named maven (seb's oc!) who had a huge crush on her, and they were very close. she never realized she had feelings for him until she found him washed up on the beach as teldrassil was burning, nearly dead and horribly wounded, and everything came crashing down on her so so bad. it makes me so crazy. i love them

there's more stuff but i don't want to make this the longest post ever JSHDKJ here she is with her horses though

as for linestelle!

Soulreaper Linestelle Deathweaver, Deathlord of the Ebon Blade

ooooh girl who died and came back wrong for realsies. she's a blood death knight (despite looking like a frost dk lol she's taking after her dad!) and a deathlord. she wields the maw of the damned. you just so happened to ask about a couple of my champions LOL

she's a butch lesbian and should be much beefier than she is in game. she was killed and subsequently raised as a dk during the attack on silvermoon. she was in her late teens, and completely lost her memory, becoming a mindless soldier. she was adopted by koltira (hence the last name) shortly after he broke free from arthas, and then was adopted by thassarian by extension. she was scared, and the two of them took pity on her and took her in.

in her former life prior to becoming a dk, she had a bit of a romance going with a girl in silvermoon who survived the attack (one of my other ocs who is less developed and isn't listed on the carrd. her name is auridel though!). linestelle completely forgot her because she lost her memory, but auridel Did Not forget her, and actively hates her because she thinks she ran away and left her, instead of, yknow, Dying And Losing Her Memory. they were kind of toxic yuri. auridel is rommath's apprentice now if that gives you any idea as to Her character KJSHDKDHSKD

personality-wise, linestelle doesn't really have much of one anymore. she lost a lot of the personality she had before losing her memory, so nowadays she's kind of flat-affect most of the time. she used to be hotheaded and some of that comes out when she fights, because she's Super easy to rile up in a fight, but outside of that she's rarely emotive and tends to keep to herself. if you knew her before, she'd hardly be recognizable now. the only person who can get her to smile, even a little, is thassarian. with bad dad jokes. :) the only time you'd find her laughing is if she's tearing a zombie apart or something.

oh, also, she looks after invincible now. they're friends. :)

anyway, i like her a lot. i like her so much. linestelle my friend. can you tell i love thassarian and koltira also. sorry about that

i hope you like my girls!! <3

#oc: linore #oc: linestelle #info #img #answers #darkjusticiars #ty again for asking chaos i love u <3 mwah mwah

3 notes · View notes

convxction · 5 months ago

Note

[DISBELIEF]: after the receiver has done something completely unexpected (and reckless) the stunned sender cups their face in their hands while trying to get them to explain why the hell they did it. (from robin of course LOL)

After the previous intense battle, some of the crew were still had heightened senses, among them Chrom who decided to head to the local tavern in the nearby village they camped next to.

Even if he knows his body is aching for sleep and rest, his mind was racing with thoughts--thoughts that kept him wide awake. During one of his confrontations in the previous battle, he came to fight one of the ruffians one to one. That ...that man said something that made the blood in his veins boil.

The one who climbed over his sister's dead body and claimed the throne. Guess you wished for her death huh? Ha! That bitch had it coming hahaha--

Chrom should've known that these people would say anything to make him lose focus but ... it is never easy when someone drags his sister's name down like that. He cares less what anyone says about him but Emmeryn... Emmeryn is a red line, so is Lissa.

A heaved sigh, Chrom orders another cup of rum to numb any wild thoughts he had. There was a gentle tap on his shoulder but he didn't notice until Robin sat down next to him. "Uh ... Robin ...Mhm, no. I don't feel like sleeping. Yeah, yeah... I will once I finish this cup ... listen, you're one to talk about sleeping. Yeah, don't give me that stinky look. I bet you *hic* ... you're writing plans or something..."

A few more minutes passed by and someone drunk, run into Chrom almost knocking him off his chair. "H-hey..!" grunting and holding into the wooden table for support, the lord glares at the man who was so unbothered.

"It's your fault, lordies that we have to go to war again... your father first, and your sister then ...you..."

Without hesitation, Chrom swung a punch at the other and it weren't for some of the Shepherds who were there too, separating the two and making sure Chrom is out of the tavern before he swings more punches and regret them in a minute later.

"Damn it! Why--!? We're doing everything--Aaargh!!"

Robin followed the lord outside, seeing him in a state of frenzy he had to stop him before the man goes on some self loathing journey with his thoughts. The tactician's hands quickly seized the lord's face. When their eyes met, Chrom could see the disappointment in Robin's eyes and hint of sadness, perhaps.

"...I ... I'm not my father...! ... Big sister did her best and--grr... We're doing our best, too! You almost got killed the other day protecting Lissa! Frederick took a hit for Sumia! Everyone--Everyone is fighting and risking their lives and in the end-- ...damn it! Don't...look at me like that...please..."

reasons to cup a face || accepting || @illusorydungeons

[DISBELIEF]: after the receiver has done something completely unexpected (and reckless) the stunned sender cups their face in their hands while trying to get them to explain why the hell they did it.

#ic.||#illusorydungeons #illusorydungeons.| robin #[lock him up no more socializing lmao

1 note · View note

pageadaytale · 10 months ago

Text

BOOK REVIEW - The Art of War by Sun Tzu

So!

I've been reading two very dense books - Periodic Tales by Hugh Aldersley-Williams, and Jesus and John Wayne by Kristin Kobes Du Mez. They're both very detailed and very long, and they're taking me some time to get through. And while I'm at work, I can't just have a book on my desk to flip through.

So instead, I've been delving into Project Gutenberg. I was inspired by another Tumblr post to look into books on politics written through history, and this was the first one to come up.

A brief primer: The Art of War is a text by Chinese military tactician and general Sun Tzu, who was employed by the House of Wu to help fight their battles against various other houses of the day - "the day" being sometime in the 6th Century BC. And whilst this is treated as a seminal text on military tactics and battle planning, it didn't exactly help the House of Wu, which was crushed by their neighbour to the South, the House of Yue, about a century later.

The edition of The Art of War that I read was a translation by Lionel Giles, complete with annotations and footnotes regarding the translation. It was translated in 1908, piecemeal from various other modernisations in Chinese where the translators had added their own flavour, so there are definite ambiguities, but on the whole these notes are useful, as they give some insight into how other people have seen Tzu's words, and they give extra context to some rules. It also means we are treated to some stories of historical Chinese warfare, which may or may not be apocryphal, to illustrate some of the points. Such tales include:

Placing old and infirm soldiers on the walls and in plain sight, and hiding the able-bodied, so that spies sent to report on the conditions of your army to the enemy will underestimate the strength of your force;

Opening the gates of your heavily defensible city wide open and practically welcoming the enemy in, so that they suspect and ambush and retreat;

Putting your own men into desperate straits and then charging the enemy during a sandstorm to rout them;

Set fire to your enemies tents in the night, and have men bang drums and make noise to scare them from their camps so you can kill them with crossbows!

I'm being a little facetious here, but these are some of the tactics previous translators have suggested were employed against armies, enemies, and even generals' own soldiers to ensure victory. There are some thirteen chapters in all, and apocryphal tales aside, a lot of it is good advice - things like issuing clear commands, making sure your soldiers do not despise you, protecting your supply line, and getting the better terrain. There's a reason The Art of War is still talked about today, and part of that is because the core tenets of its message are still used in modern military thinking. Sun Tzu emphasises "the factor of Earth" in planning, and terrain considerations are still vital; protection of supply lines is still important for moving large numbers of troops, even if the methods of movement and protection have changed; and let's not forget chapters 12 and 13 as a whole, "The Use of Fire" and "The Use of Spies", which in moden times Sun Tzu could write whole novels about, I'm sure!

All jokes aside, The Art of War is a treatise of vital information which has lasted for millenia, and it's full of instructions and suggestions which can be applied to everyday life just as easily (although please don't try to adapt the Fire chapter for everyday life. Please, please, please). I genuinely enjoyed reading it, especially the asides from Giles which make up most of the text nowadays (even though he has a habit of deciding "supply lines" means "lines of communication" for some batshit reason. Idk man, he was a translator, not a soldier), and I think it's a useful book to read even if you have no interest in war, as it gives great insight into historical politics which is still useful in the modern day.

#book review #sun tzu #art of war #year of learning #nonfiction #military history

1 note · View note

trials-of-a-spirit-worker · 1 year ago

Text

I could go in all day about why I prefer Zutara.

The way the canon pairings (other than Suki and Sokka) were written were terrible in my opinion.

Even as a kid, I didn't understand why Katara and Zuko never got together. Katara and Zuko fought, yes, but you have to remember this was a clash of ideals and a story of change. Zuko changed for the better and wanted to prove it.

And he did. Then, he turned around and began to help the people he saw as the enemy for so fucking long. Beautiful redemption arc. Some of the best character writing I've seen in such a long time. There's Zuko analyses up to the eyes about his character development, you don't need me to reiterate it just go find one.

But what Zuko did for Katara that Aang never could was fully understand her. The southern raiders especially shows that. Zuko spent that whole episode being her support. Everything they did when finding and confronting Yon Ra was completely and totally KATARA'S decision. He just did what he could without overstepping on what she wanted.

Meanwhile, Aang was pressuring her to forgive a man who Katara already deemed unforgivable and offered a black and white way of thinking that only could amount to his immaturity and his lack of experience in this world.

Aang not only is a child, but he's a child who didn't grow up in war like the others. His naivety is part of his charm as a character. He's hope personified and a good glimpse of what a time of peace looked like in the past. The Southern Raiders and frankly the entirety of Book Three showed how painfully out of touch Aang still is with war currently.

From the dance party in the caves in avatar the footloose episode, being stubborn about hiding his arrow in the midst of enemy territory, all of the Ember Island Players and his sudden possessiveness over Katara even starting he'd go into the avatar state over it if he was able to. But especially when it hinged on taking out Ozai.

Now, I'm gonna keep my opinions on whether Ozai should live or die to myself. That part isn't the point. However, the way he handled dealing with how his friends felt about it sucked. And imagine the last lines you see exchanged between Aang and Katara, two people who are supposed to be together in the end, arguing. And I mean truly arguing with no resolution. Aang pulls his chronic running away from his problems gets a cheap way out to win the war and all of a sudden those two get together?

Katara had to deal with a little boy who constantly needed to be coddled and consistently ran when things got tough. Aang was babied by Katara.

I don't know many people who enjoy babying and practically raising their own life partner.

Zuko stepped in becoming part of the gaang and gave Katara support. They're referred to as momtara and dadko in the Zutara fandom for a reason. He was the sternness the rest of them needed and it showed. Zuko was another tactician, someone Sokka could bounce off with. He was another teacher that Aang sorely needed. He was the sturdiness that all of them needed. Hell, he's the one who stopped Katara from going after Aang in their big fight before the finale.

Zuko was the perfect boyfriend for Katara. The caves showed how they would end fights, Zuko was the first to extend the olive branch.

"I'm sorry, that's what we have in common." Without that sentence we would've never got the scene we love so much. He allows himself to be vulnerable with her, even to the point where he allows Katara to touch his scar. In the Southern Raiders, he allows her anger and instead of telling her not to be upset, he asks how he can fix it. And through her irrational asks, he allows her emotions. Meanwhile, Aang is the one who tells her she sounds like a man who basically was about to murder a town. He compares the loss of her mother, the person who gave her and Sokka life, to a fucking pet. There is a real give and take with Katara and Zuko. Katara is the only one who gives...and gives...and gives.

She is the emotional crutch. Aang never controls his avatar state, even in the comics where she has to coax him down from situations. There is no canon showing of him trying to control himself in that state. None. Only in Legend of Korra where all of a sudden Aang is just the perfect Avatar magically, does he have some semblance of mastery of his state.

I won't even get into the comic where he was all for separating people by nation up until his dream girl pointed out that they won't be together if that happened. Garbage.

Also, from the other zutara fics I have had the honor of reading, I've seen beautiful opportunities for Katara, from being the Fire Lady by Zuko's side and making her own path and prestige beyond being Zuko's wife. I've seen the badass girl I admired so strongly as a child when I first watched the series. I saw her stubbornness, her compassion. I saw her beyond being this damsel tied to Aang's arm.

Even in fics where she did end up with Aang for a while, she seemed more like Katara than she ever did in LOK. Katara is loved for being her in the hands of Zutaraians and that's what I love to see.

Zutara Poll

So claims have been made in the past that Zutara fans mainly like the ship because of aesthetics. My interaction with the fandom so far says otherwise. So I have quickly cobbled up this poll to get numbers! Please vote and share!

Also ZUTARA ANTIs DNI! This poll is meant for people who actually like the ship. Please respect that. Thank you!

#zutara #zutara poll #pro zutara #zutara antis dni #zuko x katara #not witchcraft #not witch related

246 notes · View notes

balladofaldelis · 1 year ago

Text

PROMPTOBER 2023 DAY 5: STRIPES

This one was really hard but I got through it! I had an idea but as I was writing I lost track of it and it went somewhere else entirely, but I think I'm okay with where it went. :) Draco and Regus are in this one!

PROMPTOBER 2023 MASTERLIST

TW for gore

Draco knows better than to get himself into petty fights. Most people know better than to get into petty fights with Draco.

He's everything a person wouldn't want to face in combat. Freakishly tall, fairly muscled, two horns on his head, a tail with jagged spikes, wings, draconic feet... even without his body, he's intelligent, a tactician, strong, swift: a killing machine, an amalgamation of deadly traits put into one man. If Draco didn't know better he'd think his father made him that way on purpose, to be his greatest monster.

He embodies it regardless. As he wanders the back streets of Capital Gore he knows he looks like trouble.

Draco sets himself up in a bar for the night, when he finally finds one. It's a back alley sort of place, run-down, not the sort of place a Prince should be. But he doesn't mind. When he was in the army in the civil war he'd go to all sorts of establishments with the men. They'd drink whatever there was, pick fights with anyone that stood in the way of whatever mission the special forces were on, do near enough whatever they pleased.

He's calmed down since then. Most of the time, anyway. Nights like tonight are a rare exception.

He will admit, he's drank a little. Not enough to completely numb his mind but enough to take down the barrier that would usually stop him from finding his way out like this. His nerves are buzzing and his long ears twitching, taking in the chatter around him. At first there's nothing of note being discussed, but eventually he hears the murmur of his name spoken among patrons, hushed whispers remarking how unusual it is to see him around here.

Draco keeps to himself for now. Chatter is nothing to worry about, after all. He stays at the bar to drink, tail curled around the stool and wings drawn close to his body.

Someone joins him a little later, words slurred as he greets him, "The great Draco Sanguis in a place like this? What's the occasion?"

"Melancholy," Draco sighs, his eyes flitting up to assess the human. He's built well from exercise but his skin is tight around his muscles and his face gaunt. One of the poor folk of Capital Gore, no doubt. There's no ring on his finger to indicate he's married, nor would any respectable man - at least as Draco sees it - be out so late away from their children. An ache settles in Draco's chest at the thought, the sorrow that brought him to the bar spreading throughout him and alongside it his restlessness. Draco does not handle emotion well: it often leads back to the same old violence.

"There's nicer places to settle your sadness than this. Unless you've come to laugh at us poor folk. That seemed to make your darling brother happy," the man retorts, stumbling over his words.

Draco prickles, the tip of his tail twitching. "Are you stupid, or do you have a death wish?"

"Is that a threat, pretty boy?" the man grins.

Draco is undeniably in a place of privilege, by no means should he look down on the common folk. But for people like this he has none of his patience nor humility. Draco gets up from his stool, towering over the man, glowering down at him. "It can be. Do you know who you're messing with?"

"The man that lost his own son?" he bites back, laughing to himself loudly. "Boy must'a been desperate to get away from you if you can't find him." When Draco goes stiff, brows furrowing, the man continues with a smirk. "Ex-guard, I am. Got to hear about all those little endeavours. That's right, that means I've got Sanguis protection too. Can't do shit to me, reptile. Means I can do whatever I want to you."

Quickly the man stands, pushing Draco harshly. He measures his strength immediately: more than expected, not enough. Draco is steady on his feet, the push making him take only one step back, but forcing that restlessness up, boiling it into anger. His fingers twitch and he reaches out to take the man's shoulders in his hands, twisting and throwing him to the floor by the door.

"Outside, if you have the stomach." Draco steps over him. Behind him there's a commotion within the bar, lifting its former silence into an excited murmur. They're expecting a fight, to see the Prince take a few punches. Draco knows it will not end so prettily.

He waits outside the bar for a few moments, drinking in the glow of the moonlight, lifting his head to Mother Artemis above. The stars shine down on him like a protective light, soothing, gentle. But Draco has none of Her tenderness. No, he is only full of rage.

"What, got under your skin?" the man says as he saunters out with a stagger, clearly inebriated. "If only daddy dearest took better care of-"

He never finishes his sentence. Draco lunges for him, pushing him to the ground, wrapping hands around the man's throat with a cry of fury, squeezing, constricting. The man croaks under him and Draco sees red.

"Oh, how terrible it must feel," Draco hisses, a growl rumbling in his throat, draconian in nature, "to not be able to run your mouth." The man's vocal chords try desperately to create some sort of a sound. Draco's rage can only be ignited further. "Shut up, shut up, shut up!"

But he doesn't stop, hands slapping weakly against Draco's, legs moving uselessly, and he can't take it. Quinn swirls in his mind, the boy he lost, the joys that disappeared from his life that day he couldn't find him in his room.

"Get away from me? Get away from me? All I did was protect him," Draco spits, releasing the man for just a moment, hands trembling too much to squeeze, "from fuckers like you. Putanas yos, you speak like a man that's never felt a loving touch in his life. What do you know about my son? What have you gone around saying about my son?"

By now the man's eyes are wide in fear, seeing Draco in a complete frenzy. He must've been sure the Sanguis protection all guards and ex-guards have would protect him, that Draco wouldn't infringe upon a code from his own family, that he would have thicker skin. But he doesn't, and nobody speaks of his boy like that. Nobody has any right - no, so he deserves this, doesn't he?

"Prince Draco-" the man begins, but Draco sees red. He flares his wings wide, encasing the man's view in salmon stripes. His eyes dart around, stunned by the display like prey dazed by a predator, his vision dashed deep pink.

With a cry that starts guttural and becomes a scream, Draco tears his nails into the man's throat. They don't breach at first. No, he has to claw. But his nails are long and sharp and with enough force he draws blood. But blood won't do. There's more to be done, more justice to be served. He claws deeper, stronger, the man's screams shrill in his ears. At first he begs, then Draco opens up that poorly-shaven throat and severs the tubes inside until all he can hear is the desperate wheeze and whistle of air trying to travel through. Blood sputters from his jugular, filling his windpipe, splattering out of his mouth and bubbling in his nose as he tries to breathe, fighting a losing battle for his life.

All Draco can do is stare, his hands dripping scarlet, arterial spray battering his clothes. They're nothing special anyway, nothing he will miss. He wonders if people will miss this man. He wonders who he thinks about as he relives every beat of his life. He wonders if he has family waiting for him at home.

That's what tears him out of his haze with a gasp of clarity. He draws in rasping breath after breath, his heart battering his ribs. He clutches his chest, shaking his head. Who knows who this man had left? He's someone's son - is that someone awaiting their boy to return home to them?

Draco's eyes are wide, his entire body shaking, as he gets to his feet. I got what I wanted, didn't I? This is what I wanted. But gods, he wanted a fight, not a murder. Maybe he should've thrown a punch first, not let him speak for as long as he did. A million possibilities run through his head, timelines where his hands aren't coated in the stolen life of another.

By now the patrons of the bar have moved past their shock and started to filter outside. Before they can approach him Draco beats his wings, lifting him into the air far enough to land upon one of the rooftops. He just has to make his way to the side of the Palace, then he can make his way through the portal and stagger his way back home.

To my father, he thinks, my father will understand.

But as he staggers across them, remnants of adrenaline turning his legs weak, he finds himself unable to continue. Eventually he collapses atop the roof of some shop towards the middle of Capital Gore, where the streets are guarded. He looks down at them for a moment, his chest filling with a deep ache. "Gods, Quinn, you'd forgive me, wouldn't you?"

He almost expects an answer, to hear that youthful voice tell him he would, but there's only the whistling of the cold air, reminiscent of the man's desperate wheezes. He can't stand to be alone a moment longer.

He drops down from the roof, staggering up to the first guard he sees, though it doesn't take long for a small group of them to surround him, concerned for their Prince drenched in blood. When he speaks he sobs, hardly aware that he'd been crying at all, "Please, just take me home."

That night he finds his father, who immediately draws him a bath in a tub and takes his own hands to washing him, gentle and tender. Draco sobs the entire time, flashes of the man in his mind, flashes of his son, flashes of everything that used to be. He feels pathetic lying here like a child, letting his father wash the blood from his wings and his hair and his face, especially so late at night when they should both be sleeping.

Regus doesn't know about Quinn. In fact, none of his family do. The guard... he must have been assigned to Draco's room, must have overheard something or seen Quinn poke his head out, curious about the world. His heart aches, wondering if he should come clean, but he's disgraced himself enough tonight.

As he dries off he sits with his head in his father's lap. Despite his wet hair, Regus doesn't mind, petting his head gently, his eyes closed.

"Are you ever afraid of losing anything?" Draco asks softly.

"There is not a man in the world who is not afraid of loss," Regus answers, the deep rumble of his voice soothing Draco. "Don't be troubled, liveloúla," Draco almost recoils at the nickname - he'd taken it from Regus to call Quinn, "it is inevitable that we will all lose things. Be thankful for what you have in the present, and treasure what you have had in the past. What is it that's brought you such melancholía?"

Draco hesitates, casting his gaze away. "Sometimes I lay in bed at night, thinking."

"Ah," Regus chuckles, "don't we all? Pay little mind to your imagination at night. Sometimes it exists only to upset you."

After a few moments, Draco's ears go a little red with embarrassment, but his heart is soft as he whispers, "Can I sleep in your room tonight, patér?"

No matter the fact that his son is grown, no matter if he could easily say no and tell Draco to grow up, Regus loves his children dearly. Regus smiles down at him, opening those bizarre red and gold eyes. "Of course you can, dear. Do you want me to speak to you like you're little again, too?"

Draco snorts at the joke, sitting up and letting out a sigh, wiping his eyes free of the wetness there. "I'll go get dressed into my night clothes."

"Go on then. Don't get into any more trouble on your way," Regus chuckles, calling the guards to tend to the bath as they depart.

That night Draco sleeps well, the man no longer haunting him as long as he has his father nearby. But his chest still aches with the sorrow he'd tried to drown, everlasting. He wonders if one day it will ease, or if it will always be there until the day Quinn comes home. And gods, he better come home. There will be a great party on the day he does, so grand that everyone will want to attend. He'll make sure to show his pride and joy to his whole family, and keep the secret that drove him out no longer.

dividers: by saradika

#ballad of aldelis #boa books #writeblr #writers on tumblr #promptober 2023 #BOA: Draco Sanguis #BOA: Regus Sanguis

1 note · View note

memorylcst · 2 years ago

Text

Children Lost In Time | Pt IV

A week of travel gave the twins a good idea of what was going on in the world, even if they still didn’t know much about what was going on with themselves. Although even if the twins didn’t have a map, it would turn out that the Shepherds weren’t hard to track. They were… Awfully busy people. Every so often the twins would stop at a village, or a travel house and talk with the people and always there would be someone who could tell them of the Shepherds in some way or another. A few times even they had been asked to pass along thanks to the group from people they had saved.

“Busybodies, I think they’re busybodies,” Morgan said with a shake of her head as they parted from some other travelers they had stopped a moment to talk to, making sure they were still on the right path to the port city.

Marc couldn’t help but laugh at his sister, “They sound like good people though. I’m looking forward to meeting them. Aren’t you?”

“I didn’t say that! I just said I think they’re busybodies. How many fights have they gotten into in order to save people? That doesn’t sound very efficient for an army.” Morgan retorted as they started walking again.

“Yes, yes.”

The girl huffed and turned her face away from her brother in a pout before she asked, “So what did that peddler say?”

“Ah, well, we’re about a day away if we keep a leisurely pace, half that if we hurry. It sounds like they’re setting sail tomorrow so…” Marc trailed off, only to get cuffed on the shoulder by his sister who started walking faster, then starting to jog.

“Stupid, say that sooner! Hurry up if we miss them now Naga only knows how long it’ll be until we can catch up!”

Marc picked up his pace to follow her, “Morgan don’t be hasty! You’re going to trip!” She looked back over her shoulder and stuck out her tongue before breaking out into a run, Marc groaning before he did the same.

They reached the port at about midday, the city bustling with lively people everywhere. Both children looked around a bit bewildered, and a little overwhelmed by the sights, the noise, and the smells. Their entire time since they had woken in that field neither had been in a place bigger than a small village, so what was laid out before them was… A lot.

“So…” Morgan moved a little closer to her brother’s side, her free hand reaching for his own to hold as if she were afraid that they would be separated in such a crowd.

“Now we find Mother, and tell her what happened,” Marc replied quietly as his gaze moved from here to there searching for a clue of where they needed to go next. Finally, he started forward, leading his sister by the hand through the crowds of people.

Finally, they reached the docks, and it became even more obvious as to where they needed to go, however, the twins stopped a bit away, standing side by side as they watched the ships being loaded with supplies.

“You ready?”

“Not at all… You?”

“We… Have no proof.”

“Great, well, let’s go.” The twins looked at each other and nodded, letting go of the other’s hands before heading right for the ship with the most people lingering at the end of the gangplank. It was truly now or never, and though their hearts were racing a mile a minute they did their best to keep calm outwardly at least.

“Excuse me!” When Marc called out the small group of warriors, two men and a woman, stopped talking, looking at them with what turned into curious gazes. He managed to give them a boyish smile, stamping down on the urge to hold onto his sister’s hand again like an unsure child, “We’re looking for Robin.”

“And what would two kiddos want with our great tactician?” One of the men asked. Admittedly he looked familiar... Maybe… Or maybe they were trying too hard to remember something that wasn’t there anyway. It was hard for them to tell right now.

The twins exchanged a look with each other, before looking back at the group. Morgan smiled at them brightly as she replied, “We’re the great tactician’s children of course. Now can we get through?”

A shocked pause held between everyone before one of the group, the only woman, turned and left after saying, “I’ll get Chrom and Robin.”

Morgan nodded her head in agreement waving with a cheery smile, while Marc looked curiously at the remaining people. “You believe us?” The boy could hardly believe it, especially given what they had heard was going on at the time.

The man who hadn’t spoken to them before smiled, a hand raising to scratch the back of his neck. “Well, you two certainly wouldn’t be the first kids to join us from the future, and you don’t seem like you’re lying.”

Marc couldn’t help but frown a bit in his own confusion. The future? That certainly didn’t seem right, after all, time travel was... Well impossible!

“Are these the two that say they’re Robin’s kids?” A voice from a bit away spoke, and the twins looked past the two men they had been left with up to the ship, there two new faces were present. One a man with blue hair, his clothes similar in color save for his cape, that was familiar, someone they surely knew they just... Couldn’t quite remember yet.

At his right though, there was the person the twins had been looking for.

#clarere audere gaudere | memories #veritas et fortitudo | memories #( q. )

0 notes