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jq37 · 7 months ago

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The Report Card – Fantasy High Junior Year Ep 17

It’s Emily Axford’s World, We’re Just Living in It

Welcome back to Fantasy High where this monster 3+ hour bombshell of an episode is dropping during one of the busiest weeks of my life! There is SO much going on in this episode that I’m absolutely going to have to speed through things to get this out before the next episode but I’ll try to hit on all of the most important points. OK, ready, set, let’s go!

We closed out last ep in the middle of downtime where we learned that Jace had a scar from being infected with a rage crystal shatter star and from there we still have a bunch more downtime to get through. Highlights!

Riz investigates the footage from the crystal cam and again has the feeling that he needs to go back to his office and check out any open-ended clues because he’s missing something.

Gorgug tries to work on a way to harness the power of the Night Yorb’s darkness since it’s trapped in his van since they’ll probably be fighting a solar deity soon. He does mention it to Henry but not why he’s doing it. He also looks into the Cloud Rider and confirms with the Aviation Club goblin kid that it would be powerful enough to lift the Hangman (referring not to the motorcycle, but to Bill’s ship which is now Seacaster manor).

Fig writes another Ankarna themed song and rolls an insane 37. That’s powerful enough that she’s able to commune with Ankarna in her dreams. She calms the distressed Ankarana with the paladin spell Atonement and by commiserating that both of their girlfriends are “out of town”. Ankarna calls Fig her hero and says that “She’s always known” before she wakes up.

Fig keeps haunting Ruben's dreams but they're abjured so she can't straight up talk to him. In his dream, she sees his house in Elmville and feels rage as well as fear. She sees a glade in Far Haven Woods and a scared pre-emo Ruben which makes her think that that's where they did whatever they did to kick things off and that maybe the old Ruben is still trapped somewhere.

She then goes full Emily Axford and–along with the help of Fabian, British Kristen, Gorgug, and Adaine–goes to Ruben’s house and FAKES THE DEATH OF WANDA CHILDA BY KIPPERLILLY. Once she’s “dead” Adaine casts Enlarge on Gorgug and throws a cloak on him so he can take her away the in the same way Buddy’s body was taken away. It’s the performance of a lifetime with a 34 but the craziest part is they know someone was watching through the window but they have no idea who it was. InSANE. Imagine if it’s just Kipperlilly watching from Ruben’s window like ???????

Finally she gets Eugenia to design a tattoo for Fabian’s bday that will let him cast Ghost Step. She’s gonna secretly tattoo it on him because sure why not.

Kristen talks to a very stressed Jawbone who has been dealing with a lot of angry kids lately which is, como se dice, troubling considering the whole rage god situation. She downloads him on everything going on and reveals that she was gonna try to have British Kristen steal files so she can see if the addresses of the angry kids form a 24 pointed star but instead she helps Jawbone clean his office and asks if she can have the addresses. He can’t give out student info but he says he’ll check a map and see if they form a star as well as checking on Jace. Kristen tells him to be super careful because the last teacher they talked to was Yolanda, RIP. (He also mentions the Sophomore Year Hotel Cav fight as being a weird thing that happened and the murder attempt of Lydia–things that we’ve already flagged as loose ends. We’ll get back to this).

Bobby Dawn is freaking out because they can’t find Buddy’s soul in corn heaven. Kristen reveals that he’s not in corn heaven and in fact is following a new god (after confirming he doesn’t have a rage crystal). Bobby Dawn thinks he’s being punked–especially once Kristen says the new god is her god’s ex-wife–but Kristen is being pretty sincere (so sincere that Murph is melting into a puddle anticipating she’s about to give the game away to one of their least fave NPCs–imo, she didn’t give away anything game ending but she was def playing with fire). Bobby tells Kristen to call him if there’s anything he can do to help find Buddy and Kristen dips to go talk to “[her] friend Murph.” Not Riz, Murph the irl guy, lol. As that happens, Bobby goes to have a whisper convo with his wife Pam who is also there. Suspicious.

Riz/Murph makes the connection that Lake Shimmerstone is called that because of the gem filaments that flow from the Mountains of Chaos. It's a classic "no rolls necessary" moment.

Kristen finally checks the bylaws and sees that the major change made was that there is no longer any inaugural period post election. So once the votes are counted, whoever wins is president right away. It was a change by Mazey requested by a faculty member--they think Jace.

Kristen checks on her brother finally and it doesn't seem like he has a rage crystal but he's pretty bummed that he hasn't been able to convert any of his friends despite being a good paladin. He's also having a little existential crisis because he has non Helioic friends who don't actually seem like scary heathens. But then he was warned that sin might be tempting. Kristen tells him that she understands and that he has to decide whether he knows himself better than their parents. She says she's always around to talk. She then does a Relaxation roll and loses 3 stress tokens! Brennan also has her roll a d6 for the Relationship track roll with Buddy and on a 6, loses her final stress token!

Like Fig, Kristen also gets to commune with her goddess. Cass says that she's trapped and the king will come to Spyre. She says her wife's "fiery hand" grasps her in death and she has to protect her from the upcoming destruction--but she can't do it as herself. She tells Kristen that Ankarna has a champion as well and when Kristen asks who Cass says she already knows the champion. Finally, she urges her to look into what Kalina said because there was to be a good reason for her saying Ragh’s name.

I’m going to leave the bullets for a moment (largely because Tumblr gets mad at blocks of text that are too big) to say that Adaine and Fig go to Ayda’s geocache and find an insane amount of spell components which would have been super useful earlier in the year. It also has instruments for Fig including a new bass that Brennan says he’ll get Emily the item card for ASAP. Back to bullets!

In his research, Riz finds the location in the Mountains of Chaos of the Temple of the Fallen Sun where Lydia's party members stopped in their travels.

Riz looking into the Loam files sees that the person they're after must have had some ability to stun their opponents which is probably the reason for the lack of defensive wounds. He also learns that Ruvina's festival was called the Festival of Frost which sounds a lot like Frosty Fair.

He finds some text about something called the War of Shattered Stones which apparently took place around when Ankarna's domain changed.

On a hunch that there is more going on with the rat grinding than meets the eye, the whole gang takes a field trip to Lake Shimmerstone and Riz finds evidence that at some point the Rat Grinders were taken here while a massive giant was fighting deadly monsters. That doesn’t make sense so they call in some rats to question who tell them that there was a giant fighting these monsters and basically leaving the killing blows to the Rat Grinders so they’d get the XP–which is mechanically insane diegetically but we’re gonna ignore that. The rats also confirm that this was when Lucy was still around. The Bad Kids think that the RG’s made a deal with this giant (who the rats say is a guy btw) to get powered up and they got crystals as their end of the bargain.

OK, that basically wraps up downtime. One more piece of business before we head to the Temple of the Fallen Sun! Zara has a talk with Fig where after heaping praise on her, she passes along a message–the appearance of a surprise meteor shower which was arranged by Ayda and is the most romantic thing ever. I won’t recap it, just watch it yourself. I can’t do it justice. Before Fig leaves for some hot tub time, Zara asks about Fig’s evaluation and Fig assures her she already turned it in.

Time for a griffon road trip! And strap in because this is a MEATY lore dump. Sandra Lynn brings everyone on griffons to the Temple of The Fallen Sun and Riz brings his files because he can’t shake the feeling that he’s missing something.

They find this infernal temple littered with humanoid bones and Fig can tell with her divine sense that it's a temple to Ankarna. There is a place where Ankarna’s name was destroyed and replaced with a Ranger’s symbol that says: Do Not Enter. Fallen Temple. There’s also evidence that someone tried to rewrite Ankarna’s name but it’s not her actual name. It’s the glyph that means her but isn’t her actual name. Which suggests that there’s a group of Ankarna followers that are trying to do stuff involving her but that don’t know her name.

Everyone who can loads up on Truesight and See Invisibility before they enter the temple. There are a bunch of pretty good Investigation checks but, in particular, Riz gets a 32 and Fig gets a Nat 20.

Fig sees a vision (and Adaine can see it too--I assume as elven oracle she can just piggyback on anyone else having visions lol) of two giantkin wearing robes with a sun emblem being executed by armored individuals wearing robes with a fiery emblem on it. This temple was built right when Ankarna's domain was changing. They’re seeing the old priests of Ankarna being executed by the new ones.

It's clear that this temple was built as a part of a state religion--the focus on conquest and strength is very empire-y. Adaine sees some writing in Giant and casts Comprehend Language so she can read it. There’s a bunch about the War of Shattered Stone and some new stuff about the temple being built for the glory of the House of Sunstone. They walk through the temple and see all this awful equipment for torture and execution. They get the sense that this is where Ankarna was changed. Her new followers did a bunch of heinous stuff in her name to force her to become infernal. As above, so below and all.

Adaine casts Legend Lore and Brennan basically salivates. 30 seconds later, Riz rolls a Nat 20 to Investigate his files. So we’re about to crack this whole thing wide open folks. Let’s do this!

Fig and Kristen explore a chamber and Kristen's shards glow so bright she has to wrap fabric around them so they don't hurt peoples' eyes. They realize that their goddesses have been in this room together before. It's where they got divorced. Fig sees a vision of a bunch of Cass's followers dropping their weapons and backing up slowly and then being brutally slaughtered by the new guard of Ankarna.

Adaine's Legend Lore starts: Sunstone was the top clan of the giants and conquered all the others--Thunderfist, Hornspear, Moonspeak, and Frostblade (Lucy’s ancestors). Ships got better which meant people started mingling and so did their gods. Ankarna and Cassandra got married. Things were good for a while but the leaders of the church of Sol didn't like having two sun gods in their pantheon so they whispered in the ears of some of the Sunstone guys that maybe conquest was the way to go (this was when they started conquering the other clans).

Clan Frostblade rose up to fight because Ruvina was so concerned with stopping her sister and at the sundering of the Cliff's of Colcath, House Sunstone was destroyed.

At this point, Riz realizes the thing he was missing in his files and it’s the thing we noticed ages ago. The weird moment in Sophomore Year. How did Ragh get cursed so he could see Kalina in the first place? Brennan plays the clip, looking like the cat who ate the canary. Porter did “Barbarian Healing” on him. That’s not a real thing. Lay on Hands is though. Porter is the one who infected Ragh. Emily, who has hated this man from day one, is LIVING.

Back to the Legend Lore: The sundering of the Cliffs of Colcath. Sundering as in breaking. As in Cliffbreaker–Porter’s last name.

They start putting things together. Him telling Fig he's a paladin to his ancestors. Gorgug sees him smite a giant stone with the force that would be needed to fell a bunch of trees in the woods. Disasuding Fig from being a paladin of Cass. His connection to Jace from the start. The large figure healing Buddy? He’s big as hell and Paladins can revivify. And Ankarna telling Fig that she’s known all along.

The Legend Lore Concludes: After the sundering at the cliffs, the remaining Sunstones changed their names (to Cliffbreaker) and went into hiding. The Frostblades destroyed Ankarna's name to free her from the corruption (but I guess that went a little too far and backfired). The name was lost but a lot of Ankarna's true followers waited for her return. That includes Bakur who the Bad Kids realize was trying to bring back not infernal, ragey Ankarna but sunny justice Ankarna. But he was stopped by her mortal followers.

Sandra Lynn watching all of this is like, “Well shit,” and points out that if the world isn’t already in chaos they must not have everything they need yet. The Bad Kids figure the opposition must be missing the name and a successful election. The election is in four days so that’s how long they have to stop it. In one final sick fusion of bard and paladin, Fig uses a riff from her base to uncover an older image of Ankarna and Cassandra pre-corruption and then they head back home.

(Note: This comes up later retroactively but before they leave, they also check for footprints and see recent ones of Porter, Jace, and Buddy. It looks like they teleported in.)

Kristen casts Sending to warn Jawbone that Porter is bad news and then they speculate some more. There was a question in an earlier episode about what does it actually mean that Ankarna died in the Red Waste. They figure out that it means that the last follower who remembered her name was killed there.

They talk to Bakur who says again that he was betrayed by Ankarna’s mortal followers. He also mentions that even in her infernal state, she would refuse to grant her followers spells when they had plans to hurt her sister or wife (even when Ruvina’s followers were attacking her).

Bakur realized that Ankarna's followers were interested in her power but not in her. Bakur also overheard conversation from Lydia's party that said that Ankarna needed to be remade in a place where a god has been borne. A god. Any god. Riz flashes back to Kipperlilly Jawbone asking where Yes! was borne.

Fig with some help from Adaine makes a fake version of Ankarna's name to give to Porter--Bacharath written in Giant. While Fig goes to give this to Porter, Adaine is hiding outside with Detect Thoughts on and Riz is hiding nearby invisible and recording.

Fig finds Porter and tells him and she found a new god and found her name but it’s annoying because she can’t read Giant which she needs to do to rez the god. She does it really casually and acts like it’s no big deal and Porter tries to play it cool but Adaine can tell with her Detect Thoughts that he’s chomping at the bit to get that name. She makes sure that Fig crits on her Deception with a portent. He (not at all) causally offers to help Fig translate and snatches the piece of paper from her. Fig then challenges him to spar and he agrees. Brennan asks for a Con roll and when Porter stomps his foot, everyone is immediately stunned (remember the mention of the stun effect and not defensive wounds earlier). Everyone but Riz who rolled a Nat 20. So he keeps his Invisibility. He also gets a high enough luck check to feel that there is someone else invisible nearby, close to Fig and Porter (note: later, Brennan tells Adaine that while she had Detect Thoughts up, for a moment she could detect the thoughts of an invisible KP).

The last thought Adaine gets from Porter as her concentration drops on Detect Thoughts is, “Did I lock the office?”

Porter helps Fig up and doesn’t actually fight her but it feels like they just saw Porter do a Legendary Action which is a weird thing for a teacher to do–even a strong one. Fig asks what the hell that was and Porter plays it coy, saying senior year is gonna be really exciting. Riz is absolutely not having that non-answer and Misty Steps into Porter’s office. With his high investigation, he just finds everything so back to bullets:

There’s a note where he’s intimidating Halo St. Croix (the paladin teacher) into letting him teach the multiclass paladins.

There are MCATs signed for him to teach both Lucy and Buddy paladin lessons.

There’s an encrypted message between Porter and Bobby Dawn where Bobby is basically saying he’s very happy for Sol to remain the ONLY god of the sun in town but a new war god? That could be OK. He also suggests Porter look into Devil’s Honey for his plan.

There's medicine to help with a psychosomatic allergic to feline dandruff (prob Kalina related).

There’s filo dough–the kind you use to make baklava (a honey based dessert).

There’s a leather cord, probably used in the casting of Spy’s Tongue Curse than smells rank.

There are tons of blenders full of whey, protein powder, and ambrosia–food of the gods. Together, they piece together that mortals aren’t supposed to eat ambrosia because it kills them. Not in a violent way–they just ascend to the afterlife. They figure that Porter is basically eating god supplements, with the intention of supplanting Ankarna and becoming the new god of rage. Explains why he suddenly has legendary actions.

There’s some cryptic, vague communication with the Rat Grinders which doesn’t give much away but is enough to tip them off that Ruben’s house is the place where they plan things.

With that they go to investigate Ruben’s place. Before they go, Riz sets up a dead man’s switch that will release evidence if he doesn’t stop it–just in case they get trapped or held up or something. Adaine also calls her sister so she can cast a bunch of protective wards on Fabian’s place–she’s a master abjuration wizard after all.

Riza goes in first and disables all the traps in Ruben’s house which means they won’t get caught but the RG’s will know someone was there later. Here’s everything they find and, like the rest of this episode, it’s a lot:

Adaine finds Oisin’s workstation and most notably finds a picture of his dragon ancestor hanging out with Kalvaxus, some notes about the Cloud Rider, and notes about stealing summons from other people (remember Adaine's mephits going haywire at Fabian's party). There's also some notes about a way to write telekinetically on the inside of a sphere. They’re not sure what that means.

In Ruben's sound studio, they find notes from Porter helping Ruben write the song Get Mad--the song he did at Frosty Fair.

Gorgug hacks into their private servers and sees all their communications. KP insists that they only call Cass the Nightmare King and (presumably) refers to Porter as the "Big Guy". She says he wants the Nightmare King and should have her locked down sooner rather than later just as soon as she shows herself in the Astral Plane. There's also stuff from last year where KP is really excited. She says the Big Guy has been looking out for them for a while and she's hyping Lucy up saying she gets to be the champion (something we know she didn't want). KP is specifically excited that this will allow them to keep up with the Bad Kids. Jace is also mentioned as a conspirator under the acronym JSD which isn’t slick at all lol.

Kristen sees evidence of Buddy helping with a ritual and stuff about where a god was "borne" (spelled correctly) so clearly they know a lot about what's going on. She also finds out what KP wants to do once she's President: she wants to shut down Aguefort as a school forever which will nullify the protections and wards it has centered on it, the big one being that Elmville can't be moved to any other plane of existence while school is in session. They think the Rat Grinders want to teleport the whole town–perhaps to set up a divine domain. Which would need followers–specifically angry followers. IDK about y’all but I feel like being randomly teleported to the Astral Plane would make ME pretty angry.

There are texts post Lucy but pre Buddy where they're like what are we gonna do now? There's a "We're all in this together now" vibe (like some kind of twisted High School Musical) and they resolve to "talk to the Big Guy"

We learn Buddy was chosen for the same reason Lucy was a good candidate–connection to Ankarna. Lucy because Ruvina was her sister and Buddy because of similar domains (Helio’s domain is a Solar offshoot). Also I didn’t mention this before but Buddy did *not* know what he was doing. Oisin and Ivy are joking about his cluelessness behind his back (Booooo I was rooting for you dude).

There’s a message from Jace telling them to stop antagonizing the Bad Kids even though they want revenge which leads the Bad Kids to question what they ever did to them.

In Oisin's room they also find a lot of stuff about dragons and an image of a fetal god being protected by the Nightmare King. Also they remember how cloudy the Nightmare King's realm was (maybe a cloud rider connection?)

Deep breath, this is a lot of stuff and we’re almost done.

There's stuff about the Thistulespring tree and Ruben’s song spreading the rage vibes that represent the crystals in the ground.

They realize that Porter is probably using the Devil's Honey to lie to Ankarna about his intentions as he's communicating with her.

They see that for the ritual they needed a body (Porter), Ankarna's name, the protective storm of the NIghtmare King, and his name inscribed by the champion of the old goddess. They realize that’s why Zara never got her eval. Fig is the champion and she did Porter and Zara’s eval on the same sheet which he swiped for this ritual. He literally made Fig a paladin so he could get what he needed. Diabolical. Aguefort needs better hiring practices.

OK. Phew. Finally done. They head out and the next day is election day. Porter isn’t at school that day which is not surprising but is concerning. They don’t see the RG’s either. After school it’s time for the big party/election at Fabian’s place. Mazey gets a booth set up and Jawbone is there as faculty to make it legit. Aelwyn has warded up the place. Fig is there as Wanda cause she’s a maniac. Adaine is casting Detect Magic continually at the voting booth to watch for shenanigans. Also Ragh shows up and he aced his tryouts! He’s gonna be a profesh bloodrush player! Hoot growl all around!

But Riz (and honestly Murph) is unsettled. Everyone’s at this party where Fabian’s victory is a sure thing? All in one location together? Rat Grinders nowhere to be seen? This is WAY too easy.

Which is Brennan’s cure to drop the other shoe.

Things are just like Adaine's visions...until they're not. The sky was always clear in her visions and now storm clouds are brewing. She gets a Sending spell from someone, "You didn't see the storm coming? Must not be a very good Oracle." Oisin. Suddenly, ping pong balls with runes inside of them start raining down from where they've been stuck in the unkept Seacaster manor for months. From when Oisin "missed" his shots. Telekinetic writing inside a sphere. Runes inside ping pong balls. As they fall, there's a sudden lurch. Winds kick up and Seacaster manor is flying above Elmville. Everyone rolls initiative!

I’m not doing proper Honor Roll/Detention this week because this was such a long episode and I'm exhausted. Honestly, Honor Roll for me for getting this up in time. Detention for Fabian for not using is 10k gold allowance to have someone clean his house in the past 9 months.

Random Notes

Gonna just stick to a few plot relevant ones to keep this brief.

Re: Adaine not seeing the storm in the same way that the previous oracle couldn't. I wonder if that’s just a blanket thing that weather evades predictions or if they did the same thing that was done during Kal’s plan to evade that oracle's sight before Aelwyn sunk her ship.

I don’t think I made it clear but Porter def killed Yolanda according to this ep.

Porter’s Legendary Action is able to stun someone for multiple rounds which in combat would be devastating.

I’m shocked they never tried to talk to Ruvina at any point during the campaign.

I am still VERY concerned about Riz being made staff by Jace and given silver. That feels suspicious given we know he’s on Team Porter Ascension.

I didn’t get into it because it was nebulous and would have messed with the flow of the recap but there was something there about teleportation circles and the Rat Grinders continually casting teleport to make a circle and maybe that’s how they’re gonna get Elmville into the Astral Plane. Just mentioning it in case it comes up again.

I don’t think we got closure on the “where the god was borne” thing. Because borne means carried, not created, right? I wonder if Seacaster manor would count because the corpse of Yes! Was brought there by Ankarna.

The Rat Grinders and Porter have at least 2 obstacles they don’t know about. They don’t have the real name (unless they got in since Fig gave Porter the fake one) and Fig is literally domain squatting on Ankarna’s domain. She already called dibs so any claiming will have to go through her.

I think it’s really nice that Adaine tried to do a relaxation track for Kristen. Handshake meme, her and Riz.

Emily insisting so hard and consistently that Porter was evil that Brennan just made him evil has some real as above/so below energy lol.

#Dimension 20 #dimension 20 spoilers #d20 #d20 spoilers #fantasy high #fantasy high spoilers #fhjy #fhjy spoilers #spoilers #the report card

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gothyanki · 9 months ago

Note

For any: hate, bound, hunt

OC asks: not-so-nice edition.

Thank you!! Answering questions for Vin'ath:

bound: Has your OC ever been imprisoned or captured? What happened? How did they get out? Did the experience leave any scars?

They have (before the nautiloid, that is), and it set the entire course of their life. They were taken captive by mercenaries on Baby's First Practice Raid at the age of fifteen, where they were one of several adolescents sent out under adult supervision to conduct a raid on a small settlement. Unfortunately for Vin, the place wasn't quite as undefended as intelligence suggested; the leadership had contracted the services of a group of mercenaries/heroic adventurers(tm) and alongside the resisting people, they put up a real fight. The githyanki won, of course, but that victory wasn't entirely bloodless on their side. Vin, who'd managed to kill two of the "enemy" before being incapacitated, was left behind for dead and taken prisoner when the final accounting of bodies revealed they weren't.

This didn't quite sit right with one of the mercenaries, a drow paladin of vengeance named Iskrae. The others claimed various motives for holding Vin captive in grim conditions - hoping to ransom them back to their people, wanting to find out the location of the crèche - but Iskrae was well aware the real reason was revenge. Having come from a similar place to Vin, she identified with them straight away (probably more than with her own associates, who'd never fully trusted her). In the end, she turned on them to rescue Vin, breaking her oath in the process.

As an adult (and as a paladin now estranged from Iskrae, who became their mentor/guardian), Vin obviously has very complicated feelings about this. Guilt over what they did, trauma from what was done to them, relief that they never have to see the inside of a githyanki crèche again (or so they think), a whole tangled mess of gratitude and anger and love and resentment toward Iskrae herself... it's all there, babeyyyy.

hate: What does your OC hate? Why? How do they act towards the object of their hatred?

...unfortunately, the #1 answer to this is "Vin'ath". :( Their standard responses of "run towards it and hit it with a sword" (if the hated thing is tangible) and "avoid thinking about it ever" (if it's not) don't work very well in this case, so they cope by detaching and treating their body like a machine - they're here to fulfil the vengeance oath and hunt down the wicked, nothing more. Other people's kindness is something they really struggle with, because it puts a serious dent in this "I'm not a person" mentality. Karlach and Wyll were a bit of a shock to the system.

hunt: Who or what is your OC hunted by? A person, a feeling, a past mistake? Is your OC able to let their guard down, or are they constantly alert?

I've thought a lot about how "hshar'lak" literally translates to "traitor who should be hunted on sight", and I feel like that word would have wormed its way into Vin'ath's head. They're always looking over their shoulder, but the truth is no githyanki have ever actively come after them - they've had a couple of run-ins with gith raiders while paladining in the company of mercenaries, but those were encounters they sought out. It's that complicated messy mixture of feelings again - their worst fear is getting hunted down as a hshar'lak should be, but there's also a sense of longing present when they think about it (which scares them even more). The same part of them that longs for approval from a commanding officer wants their people to care enough to punish them and drag them back.

#thank you again!!!#me getting the opportunity to witter on about an OC: FIRST OF ALL #oc: vin'ath #ask meme #asks

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nightingaelic · 4 years ago

Note

POODLES IN THE WASTELAND

i jest I jest

But 👀

What about pets? Either ones companions would have or a very uncommon one that someone wouldn’t think was a good pet, BUT IS. Deathclaws you can ride like a pony, mole rats that want belly rubs, cazadore’s as cattier pigeons! What are your thoughts?

Or like, Danse or Piper or Fawkes with something hilarious Idek ignore me

Oooookay, here’s my comprehensive list of companions - ALL companions, across Fallouts 3, 4, New Vegas and 76 - and their (headcanon) choices in wasteland pets. I’ll give a little explanation for each - particularly as many of these companions are transients and don’t have the luxury of owning a home to keep pets at. Also, I feel like most of the companions, while they might not necessarily like pets, would be somewhat fond or at least respectful of the pets of the Lone Wanderer/Courier/Sole Survivor/Vault Dweller, like Dogmeat and Rex.

Bighorners

Lily Bowen: Everyone’s favorite super mutant grandma is already an experienced shepherdess in Jacobstown, and she’s more than willing to tear some night stalkers apart to keep her herd safe. If that’s not love beyond the norm for wasteland livestock, I don’t know what is. She’s probably given all of her bighorners names after the characters in the television reruns she used to watch on holotape in Vault 17, like Grace and Audrey and Lucille.

Brahmin

Raul Tejada: Actually spent a decent part of his pre-war life living on a ranch, so he knows that most brahmin don’t deserve being labeled “irritable” just because people don’t know how to read their body language. I think he’d follow wild brahmin herds around a bit on a whim and keep them from coming to any harm, especially the little ones. He gives them names like the cattle he grew up with, Corazon and Gordo and Blanca.

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: Doesn’t truck with the wild herds, but she knows that part of the success of a caravan lies with how well they treat their pack animals. All of her caravan’s brahmin have names - Penny, Magic and Sprinkles - and she’s careful to pair them up with drivers who are patient and work well with their various personalities.

Cats

Butch DeLoria: While Butch ultimately decided to leave Vault 101 behind, I don’t think he would ever truly lose his fear of radroaches after what they did to his mom. Having a little friend to warm his bunk in Rivet City and pounce on intruders would probably set his mind at ease, maybe a black tomcat with one ear named Pepper. He might even gift his mom a kitten when he next comes to visit.

Star Paladin Cross: I don’t think Cross much sees the use of an animal that doesn’t contribute to the community it lives in, like most of the Brotherhood of Steel. Cats, however, are excellent at pest control, even if the rats are bigger nowadays. I think she’d give the resident cats at the Citadel some pets in passing, and she’d smile when she has to extract playful kittens from inside her power armor frame. She’s especially fond of the cat colony’s matriarch, a scarred old tabby named Gemma.

Curie: Upon her transition into a synth body, Curie is overjoyed with most animals and their new willingness to approach her for attention. She especially loves cats because she can pick them up and better feel their fur and purring. Her favorite cat is an orange stray in Diamond City that she calls Claude.

Piper Wright: A companion for Nat when she’s out adventuring, an unbiased friend to bounce the latest opinion piece off of before going to print, and a lap-warmer for when you’re typing up the latest article about the exploits of the Minutemen - what’s not to like? The Wright family cat is a slippery, elegant calico named Sugar Bomb.

Preston Garvey: While the Minutemen forts and settlements definitely lean more toward keeping dogs around for security purposes, I think Preston likes his pets quieter and less likely to bowl you over in excitement. The one most likely to sleep with him in his bunk at Sanctuary is a grumpy gray gentleman named Anchovy.

Deathclaws

Veronica Santangelo: If anyone is crazy enough to swipe a deathclaw egg from a nest and try to hatch, rear and train a personal killing machine named Izzy, it’s Veronica. This will probably just alienate her from her Brotherhood chapter even more, but I’m sure she would take special care to make sure that her usual Mojave Wasteland haunts take a peek through a scope to see if the approaching deathclaw has a human on its back before taking a shot.

Dogs

Clover: I don’t think Clover gets out beyond Paradise Falls much, so the only animals she’s used to are the dogs the raiders bring around when passing through. She probably has favorites among the usual visitors and enjoys tossing them bits of meat when she’s allowed to get away from Eulogy and Crimson. If liberated, she’d probably get at least three of her own dogs to watch over her while she sleeps: One small dog to carry with her, a Pekingese or Pomeranian descendant named Coco, and two large dogs to follow through on intimidation and protection, a mastiff named Rock and a Doberman descendant named Roll.

Jericho: Jericho doesn’t deserve a dog but he’d probably have one around anyway to sniff out caps caches and hidden loot after he’s shot everyone in the vicinity. Some slinky beagle mix named Dewey, probably.

Fawkes: I don’t think Fawkes would be picky at all about what kind of dog he’d have. He strikes me as the type who would adopt any half-friendly mutt he ran across. I do think he would have a bit of a soft spot for friendlier mutant hounds, though, and maybe view their mutated circumstances as similar to his own. He’d also be absolutely amazing at playing fetch. Just imagine how far he could lob a stick or ball. All of his dogs would have literary names too, like Byron and Agatha and Edgar.

Craig Boone: Though he’s a bit of a prodigy at sniping, Boone knows his limitations when it comes to spotting hidden enemies on the horizon. I can see him having a hound dog at his side to find the more elusive ones and help him get rid of them faster. Maybe a bloodhound mutt named Bravo.

Cait: Doesn’t like people, but she adores dogs. Having had the life where she’s been abused, exploited and forced into slavery, she’s keenly aware that those like the ones who took advantage of her treat dogs much the same. She’s very protective of any dog she encounters and is very likely to punch you in the face if you so much as look at one wrong. She’d probably name any pup she adopted Lucky.

Hancock: Honestly, he’s just a fan of any animal that is happy to hang out with you whether you’re drunk, high, fighting raiders or patrolling downtown Boston. The Goodneighbor strays know him as the guy who always has mirelurk jerky in his pockets. His favorite is a rough-and-tumble, black-and-white spotted cattle dog descendant that he cheekily calls King George.

Robert MacCready: He’s not quick to trust dogs, but once he’s sure they’re not a threat, they’re one of the few critters around which he’ll relax completely. He’s still a little wary of them around Duncan, but any dog that’s a part of his family is more or less his son’s permanent babysitter.

Nick Valentine: Dogmeat is also basically his dog. The two have a history of working cases together, with Dogmeat just turning up whenever a trail goes cold and leading Nick to the evidence he needs to reopen his investigation. Nick doesn’t know how or why Dogmeat does it, but he’s not about to ruin a good thing.

Strong: I don’t think he would turn down a ferocious mutant hound as a friend. He’d probably feed it mole rats and call it something like Killer.

Foxes

Beckett: This former raider has a love-hate relationship with a fox that keeps going through his trash. He affectionately calls him Lil’ Bastard.

Sofia Daguerre: Having crashed back to an earth she doesn’t recognize, I think Sofia would be tickled that the foxes of Appalachia have basically stayed the same despite the bombs. I can see her leaving dinner scraps out on her porch for one that she sometimes spots in the foliage, and slowly coaxing the critter to come into the light. She names her Scarlett once she finally convinces her to eat out of her hand.

Mega sloths

Settler forager: I would not be at all surprised if this man ran into a mega sloth in the Mire and decided to try befriending it. The creature, probably surprised at this old guy’s nerve, decided to accept the handful of leaves he offered and grew slowly more fond of the guy’s persistence. It doesn’t know its name is Fergus but it does know that if a human is wearing overalls, it’s probably not a threat.

Mole rats

Deacon: Alright, hear me out. Deacon has a fondness for underdogs, and mole rats are about as underdog as they come. I think Deacon thinks these little guys are cute despite their wrinkles and buck teeth, and I think he sees the value in having a tunneling pet that likes to collect shiny things. One of his deep cover hideouts is in an old tunnel system in the northern Commonwealth, where he hangs out with a young mole rat named Henry.

Owls

Raider punk: This radio operator got wind of an abandoned nest of owlets in Appalachia early on in his career and, being the nearest to the report, decided to rescue the little guys. Now he has three owls that occasionally drop in at his camp to hoot and accept handouts: Nona, Decima and Morta. While he’s still fond of them, he’s usually disappointed that they aren’t the Mothman coming to visit.

Rad chickens

Yasmin Chowdhury: Ever the opportunistic cook, she picked up the practice of raising chickens from the settlers at Foundation and has four hens of her own: Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme. The “ladies,” as she refers to them, give her a constant stream of eggs for omelets.

Ravens

Settler wanderer: This gal has an affinity with birds, who are always on the move like her. She admires their ability to be untethered and let the wind take them far and wide. Nevertheless, she likes to scatter corn when they come close to her on the road, and formed a sort of friendship with a particularly handsome specimen that she calls Tornado.

Wolves

Old Longfellow: This guy is the epitome of the meme about dads not wanting pets and then instantly falling in love with whatever animal enters their life. He probably found an injured wolf pup in his travels around the island and took pity on it, nursing it back to health in his cabin. It’s still got a bit of a twisted paw, but follows him around and listens like any other dog and answers to the name Lamoine.

Yao guai

Porter Gage: I bet this guy adopted an orphaned bear cub and raised it by hand. Now it’s so big that even if Gage thinks he’s an easy target for other raiders due to his age, he’s much less likely to get singled out than he thinks because he has a yao guai following him around like a puppy. The bear’s name is Fuzzy Wuzzy. It has no hair.

No pets, thanks

Charon: Too likely to accidentally wind up in the line of fire.

Sergeant RL-3: Too easily corrupted by Communist influences.

Arcade Gannon: Too much time spent getting in your way.

Codsworth: Too likely to make messes.

Paladin Danse: Too many wasted resources.

X6-88: Too much of a liability.

Ada: Too easy to lose when on the move.

Solomon Hardy: Too unsanitary.

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sasskarian · 4 years ago

Text

First Line Meme

I was tagged by @asaara-writes. Thank you, my dearest! <3

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 of your favorite authors!

My Heart and I -

If there’s one thing about Evelyn Swann that the entire Commonwealth knows by now, it is her love of music. Silence does not mark Evelyn’s arrival anywhere— instead, the soft tones of Billie Holiday do, crooning about mountains moved for love. Or the sultry voice of Lady Day herself, Ella Fitzgerald, floating around her and the companions like a bubble of the past, dreaming on into the future. Heavy footsteps beat out a tempo contrasting Butcher Pete and his big old ‘knife’ and everywhere she goes, she trails ribbons of jazz and cheer.

Like Afterimages -

The settlers call her a survivor. Sanctuary calls her a savior. Codsworth cries when she returns from the wastelands, dragging in another minute— heh— victory for the Minutemen, or another rescued synth she doesn’t tell anyone about. But Mama Murphy just calls her a ghost.

That’s what she is, after all. Just a two hundred year old ghost. Like a mirage, superimposed on the darkness, burned into immortality by nuclear fallout and tragedy. Evelyn is only sometimes here, those dark gray eyes a pair of rain clouds on the distant horizon, drifting on invisible fronts. The thunder is inside of her, too, a raging storm swirling in her chest, beating fists made of babies crying and gunshots rimmed in frost ringing out against her ribs.

The Thrill of Your Hand -

Danse has been a soldier too long to be a deep sleeper.

That’s the first thing the Brotherhood trains you out of. The indoctrination comes later, because only a good soldier can be indoctrinated, and a good soldier has to wake up at the first hint of danger. So when he hears the first whimper from across the room, his eyes snap open.

Paladin’s Bubble -

The Commonwealth is quiet tonight.

It’s not silent, by any stretch: Evie can hear the hounds in the distance, their mutated throats sending their boofs echoing through the streets of Boston even from a long distance, and somewhere— a mile or more— the whoop of a raiding party rises over the station’s lookout, too far away to do anything but pity the poor prey they’ve caught. Dogmeat grunts, his paws pushing against her armored thigh as he stretches. His ears are perked, though, so he’s just catching some rest while he can. Even the thwomp-and-hiss of her partner’s power armor is missing from the darkness, the red light of his scope the only thing highlighting his face in their little bubble of quiet.

After the Glitter Fades -

“If there is a future to be had,” Fenris murmured, his lips hovering near Hawke’s, “I will walk into it gladly at your side.”

His gorgeous green eyes were fixed on hers and Hawke fumbled for a moment, a half-smile playing across her mouth as her fingers played with the crumbling stone behind her. Silly, but part of her almost wanted to believe him. With the smallest sound, Fenris leaned in, his gauntleted fingers sliding through her hair as he kissed her— it started out soft, a chaste brush of warm lips and warmer breath, but within a couple of heartbeats, it deepened into something that promised wildness and fire.

Glitter: Marginalia - (E)

She can’t remember what dragged her awake— only that it left a sour, desperate taste in her mouth like old coppers and the cheapest bottle of whatever would get her drunk enough to sleep.

Waking up with nightmares is nothing new. The Amell curse, as most of the Kirkwall film crews call it, has yet to hit Hawke directly, but it had taken her father (a stunt gone wrong) and her mother and uncle (an unlucky intruder)– had struck Carver, too. She and Garrett and Bethie are safe, so far, but it's only a matter of time until it circles back around. The curse is a generations-long predator, still and patient, and it will hunt them down one at a time if it has to

Ah, Kirkwall, she thinks, some blend of annoyance and fondness and adrenaline mixing uneasily in her heart. You fuck with us again and again and still, here we are.

He Might Like That -

“So. Let me get this straight.” Greef lifts his bad knee with a groan, settling it over his other leg so he can sprawl a little more indolently. Din’s HUD focuses in, shows the elevated temperature in the joint in a dark red, and he turns it off with a flicker of his eye. Greef lifts his glass again, takes a sip, and gestures with it before continuing. “You two. Not together?”

Where I Can’t Follow -

The day Geralt of Rivia dies, he hears the whistle of the sword which almost kills him. There’s a series of tiny holes stamped along the spine of the blade, keeping weight down and adding a sinister shrill hiss through the air on each pass. The raiding party - if it can be dignified with such language - are nearly all armed with similar steel, with hunting horns, rattling chime-spangled shields, and bullroarer slings wailing and droning like an oncoming swarm of giant wasps. The effect is deafening, overpowering all efforts to coordinate the various companies on this mission.

Malicious Compliance - (M)

So this is how it feels to have a galaxy tremble at your feet.

Not just the galaxy, though— millions of lives shuddering under the weight of your boot on their necks cannot compare to the half-lidded gray-blue eyes drinking you in like you’re his salvation and damnation both. No, there is power in this, in these stolen moments with him, that rivals nothing else you’ve found anywhere among the stars.

He’s a brave man, your Captain.

Counting the Days (since Exegol) -

“That’s good, Finn.”

Rey smiles, feeling the Force ebb and flow around Finn as he manages to lift himself a few inches off the ground-- along with the meditation mat, two glasses of water, and the plate of snacks they keep for anyone who comes to visit. Finn cracks an eye open, smiles back at her, and lands with a thump. For half a moment, she almost expects him to be disappointed that his training is progressing slowly: hyper-competency is a Stormtrooper trait he’ll never outgrow.

Star by Star -

The galaxy looks different now.

It’s not just the cautious celebrations still happening, weeks later. And it’s not just the way people step back from her now, too much reverence in them for her comfort. It’s in the way she looks at the sky and sees the color of Luke’s eyes, and the gentle wind that feels so much like Leia’s hand, she cries. The way that Poe’s back straightens at the podium, broadcasting Republic news to everyone, and Finn’s hand clutching his under the table, their life forces bright and right in her senses.

Stardust and Memory (and a little bit of romance) -

“Wow.”

Jaal chuckled against her ear, hands firmly on her waist; a good thing, probably, or she’d be on her face on the floor. “It is… a lot, I know.”

“No!” Sara protested, only wilting when Jaal tilted his head at her. “...okay, maybe a little. There’s just— a lot of them?”

Scars and Holes and Broken Things -

Whispers follow him wherever he goes.

What’s left of the crew whispers in the halls, the mess, on the bridge, and conversations trail off when his ghost walks through, haunting the only place that's ever felt like home. Whatever they’re saying doesn’t matter, though—he doesn’t care. He’s too tired to care. He hasn’t slept more than his body demands in weeks. Tali’s immune system has already begun to destroy itself, and even though the Normandy is stocked with more dextro rations than it’s ever carried before—

Almost like Shepard knew. Always prepared, that’s my girl.

Heart of the Woods - (E)

You left the Templars, but do you trust mages? Can you think of me as anything more?

Less than a fortnight of sweet words, gentle touches, and stolen kisses are the only weapons she could levy against the trauma that shaped a man’s youth. And for a moment in time, Isera hoped.

Common Ground (isn’t so hard to find) -

“Skkut! Ryder!”

“Sorry, Enroh— oh!” Sara tried to stop, bounced into a low bench, and crashed into a pile of bruised, groaning Pathfinder on the other side. At least this time, she remembered to shield her head as she skidded to rest against the wall. Lexi would be pleased. Another concussion would get her put back under the scanner and that just ruined everyone’s day. “...ow.”

A Language Reserved for Lovers - (M)

The first time you touch him, his skin flushes red; the first time he touches you back, he trembles. Interesting, since if there is a word to describe him, it is steadfast. But there is more beneath the easy surface, beneath the deadly grace and unflagging stamina. He is loyal, and good, and so fascinating under the burden of his name. But nineteen is a young age, even if you're only a little older, and he seemed so young at first, unsure and innocent— then he gave you that crooked little grin, and stole your heart with it.

Every Beautiful Thing -

I would prefer to be Mary Shelley. She died a widow.

Despite a foolhardy counter, thrown in indifference and pride, Edith never really thought she would be a widow. Despite her foolish quip so many years ago, she is no Mary Shelley. And despite moderate success as an author and teller of stories, the only thing she and Shelley have in common is a belief in a world outside of the everyday, and widowhood.

Yesterdays -

He’s always thought she was invincible.

Sure, Morrigan told them the truth of the Archdemon’s death, an account more grisly and heartbreaking than the one Riordan gave; just the sort of tale that might ensnare a young boy’s heart, give him delusions of grandeur, while an older man might look upon it with resignation. But the truth doesn’t sink in until now.

If You Ever did Believe -

“There are people dying,” Isera repeated slowly, as if she could make her advisers understand what she'd seen. As if giving her memories voice might lift some of their weight in her heart. “We couldn’t even get to Redcliffe because of the fighting.”

Three days of being stuck on a horse, only to have to turn around after three skirmishes— their first mission to the Hinterlands had been a remarkable experiment in failure. Isera had learned her skills at the hands of the best of her clan, had fought alone for years, and yet the shock of tripping over Varric and accidentally hitting Cassandra with a ball of ice had made their first fight a near loss.

Some saviors, Varric had laughed afterward, staggering around like baby nugs.

Glitter: Velvet over Veridium -

If anyone had ever accused Marian Hawke of being a reasonable adult human being, she might have laughed at them. No, she'd have pointed and then laughed at them. But under all her bluster, and all her immature jokes, her dirty one-liners and cheesy pick-up lines, there was an adult hidden in there somewhere.

Okay, maybe I put more than one opening line, but I have a thing for context, dammit!

This got so long -- mobile users, I’m sorry omg.

Forwarding the tag (no pressure as always!) to @mayihavethisdanse @athreehundredthirtythree @thebisexualmandalorian @natsora @loquaciousquark @valdomarx @theggning @cullywullycurlywurly @systlin and @third-rail-vip

#dragon age #mass effect #star wars #cullavellan #fenhawke #fallout 4 #the witcher #shakarios #danse x sole survivor #geraskier #lavellan x fairbanks #ZevWarden #wardistair #rydaal #long post #my fic #i did the thing #do the thing

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feyborns · 4 years ago

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AU IN WHICH NIMUE WAS NEVER SHOT WITH THE ARROW/OR SHE WAS SAVED AND REUNITED WITH THE REST OF THE FEY. Lancelot and Squirrel have also joined the camp, and it’s been a few weeks since they’ve all come together. (Pls don’t give me shit if something is not accurate. I loved the show and liked the theory of these two being a thing so PLS. Fan fiction is called fiction for a reason ok thnx)

The night was still, as the only thing to be heard was the crackling from the dying fire. Nimue silently curses herself for being one of the last few awake, as her eyes settle across the flames against the logs, they meet his. Was he a night owl as she was? Apparently so. A sigh emits into the vicinity, and she hates how quiet it is. Her village was always humming with life, and she clung the camp for the fey close to her heart as it mirrored her village in that aspect. Someone was always awake, up to something. Oceanic hues squeeze shut if only for a moment as she remembers their few days of bliss within those confines. Hidden away from the rest of the world. But most importantly, the Red Paladins. Optics narrow then, at the Weeping Monk. He’s given his true name, but she refused to give him the honor of using it. Even her thanks in saving Squirrel were limited. She loved that little boy, and hated that monk. His intentions were still unclear to her, and as she thinks of the Red Paladins, she’s reminded of his actions as well. He doesn’t meet her gaze from across the fire pit, but the way he avidly he avoids it shows he knows that she’s eyeing him carefully. Squirrel sort of looked up to him now. As any child would after being rescued in such a manner, but Nimue still held her guard up. She wouldn’t be considered Queen of the Fey if she was so easily trusting outsiders. Especially ones who had massacred his own kind. Still - it was clear that Father Carden had made his mark on him. Mentally and physically. And despite her best efforts, the heart kept behind those guards felt for him. Pitied him. Felt sad for him. Ripped away from his own culture, his people. Used as a puppet for majority of his life. Never knowing anything else. The way he saved Squirrel made something clear to Nimue, though. He couldn’t deny his true self, and when they came for a child, much like himself back then, they couldn’t allow them to murder him. He looked at Squirrel as if he was looking at a reflection of himself.

She’s stirred out of her thoughts only when he stifles up a cough from the back of his throat, meeting her gaze if only for a moment before averting it immediately back to the grass. “Something to say?” She questions, though she knows he was just trying to get her to stop eye boggling him. “No.” He mutters in that hushed tone of his, and for a moment she feels bad. She wished she didn’t. It would be so much easier for her if she was able to keep up this hardened shell toward him. It was, unfortunately, coming undone. He was an asset to the Fey, of course. He was an extremely skilled warrior. A master of the sword he weilded. It stirs an idea up within inside of her. “Could you teach me some of what you know?” Motions toward the weapon, and all he offers in response a swift nod.

A week later.

She’d never seen him so lively. So full of movements. But as he weilded the sword toward her, she’s awestruck. Father Carden was a beast, and a monster. A vile creature. But he surely toward Lancelot well. She’d retracted her earlier sentiment about using his given name - as their dusk meeting to fling swords at one another had become an every day thing. It seemed only respectful. If he was going to teach her, it was the least she could do. She felt like a master with the Devils Tooth already, but she knew it was the Hidden that guided her. There was room for improvement when it came to her fighting skills, and she found herself growing fond of the time they spent together. A part of her still hates herself for it.

“Distracted, today?” He questions, monotone as he is, he peers at her carefully. She shys away from his gaze, chocolate tendrils doing well to cast over her cheeks as she shakes her head.

“Never. Just awaiting your next move. I think I can already guess what it is.” She taunts, though there’s a mischievous grin settling upon crimson lips. And for the first time, she thinks ever, Lancelot is cracking the tiniest hint of a grin - before leaping forward into another lunge attack.

Two weeks later.

Sweat glistens in the rays of the sunlight, bouncing off the pairs bodies. They’d finished their practicing for the evening, and were now heading toward the lake to cool off. However, Nimue halts at the foot of the water, as Lancelot had already shed himself of his clothing, waist deep into the water. She’d only shown herself fully to Arthur - and he’s there in the back of her mind. Back at their makeshift camp, he was helping hunt for dinner. Gods, what’d he think of her right now? About to undress and indulge in a swim with someone who was once their enemy. It makes her stomach flip.

“Are you just going to stand there?” Applies the cool water to his long locks as he speaks, and she thinks herself he looks more so like an angel as opposed to what Father Carden had called him his whole life. A demon. She chuckles faintly, shaking her head. “Can you turn around?” He obliged without hesitation, and she appreciates that of him. Quickly, she’s tiffing off her garments, before slipping into the water. Careful to cover the entirety of her body.

He remains still though he had to of heard her come into the water. His back remains facing her, and it’s impossible not to notice the abundance of scars scattered about his shoulders and entire backside. It reminds her of her own, and she feels compelled to reach out and touch them. The pads of her fingertips smooth against the redness, soft. She didn’t want to startle him, but he tenses at the touch anyway. Something she expected. It’s abrupt, as he turns around, palm grasping fully at her wrist. “Don’t.” The single syllable leaves her frozen in place. Or perhaps it was his close proximity? A combination of both, she decides on.

“I’m sorry. We’re just... alike.” And she moves to find a grasp on the hand around her wrist, surprisingly he allows her to do so. The expression on his face was that if curiousity, as she moves his limb to rest against her shoulder blade, his fingertips mirroring her actions just seconds before. “See?” It’s a mere whisper, and when she lets go of him, he keeps it in place. Breath appears to be stuck in the back of her throat, and for a fleeting moment she’s thinking of Arthur.

It’s all flushed away as she makes a rather confident and last minute decision - pushing up the balls of her feet, it’s enticing as their lips meet for only a brief second. She’s petrified he’ll be disgusted. He’ll push her away - but wasn’t she supposed to be the one appalled with him here? Yet, he doesn’t move. He keeps the closeness between them, and she takes it as a motive to continue. Pressing full lips firmly against his own, petite hand finds place within his curls, and she feels as if she’s going to faint when he kisses her back.

It’s messy, and rough. Just like him. But she doesn’t mind. She never thought she’d want this, or stare at him long enough to wonder what his lips tasted like, but here she was. Finding the answer to that question. They tasted of salt, a mix of the water and the sweat from their pretend battle. Their tongues dance with one another, and goosebumps arouse her fair skin as his large hands find residence against her waist. Why was she craving this touch so badly? She doesn’t know, doesn’t have a clear answer. But as he does so, a muffled sound of pleasure emits into the others mouth, and she’s glad his eyes remained shut, as her cheeks flushed.

It’s as if her mind as gone completely blank, and all of her caution was thrown out the window. She’d never ached for someone this way, and she props one of her legs up around him, tugging him in flush up against her nude body. This earns a grunt of approval from him, and she yearns to hear more of them. It’s a swift action as her back is being pressed up against the side of the lake. Not a tactical place, but she wasn’t complaining as their lips continued to mesh together. She feels him between her legs, and can tell he’s not quite sure what he’s doing. It then dawns on her that he’s probably never done this before. Probably has never even kissed a girl before.

“It’s okay,” she whispers, breaking their kiss for a moment, her breath hot against his. “I want this.” Evidently she finds this is the only thing he needs to hear, pushing himself inside of her, slowly at first. The two’s noises of pleasure mix with one another in the air, as he’s beginning a rapid rhythm of thrusts inside of her. It was only the second time she’d done this, but why hadn’t the time with Arthur felt this good? Felt so right? It felt like Nimue and Lancelot were entangled within each other at this moment. Completely in their own world where the lust they silently held for one another could finally exposed and truly felt.

Grunts continue as his hands wander her body, exploring, and she likes it. It seemed as if he wanted to know every dip and crevice of it, as he was deep inside of her. Nimue’s head falls backward, mouth agape as his thrusts only quicken. He takes this opportunity, lips attaching to the exposed porcelain skin, nipping at sucking at the area. She feels ultimately euphoric as they reach their climaxes together.

It’s silent after, as he’s still inside her. Almost as if they’re both afraid to move and disturb the peace they’d just felt. However, the serenity could only last for so long, as he’s shifting his weight and moving a bit away from her, but not too far.

“Maybe we are,” he starts. “... alike, I mean.”

#cursed #weeping monk #nimue cursed #nimue #nimue x weeping monk #cursed fanfic #listen i made this side blog just to write this #please appreciate lmao #daniel sharman #katherine langford #nsfw.

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writing-the-end · 4 years ago

Text

LoL Chapter 12: Family Dynamics

Masterpost

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU belongs to @theguardiansofredland )

Safe on their home island of Eremita, the hermits need to practice, grow their magic stronger. A day in the life of the illegal guild of hermits includes food- practice- more food- practice- contemplating of life.

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

The Order returned to their island, healed by the remaining Asklepions and left with more questions than answers. They know almost nothing more about dark magic, despite fighting it twice now. When they thought husks only appeared around crystals, Danes proved they can move. When they believed they understood why a husk appeared, the monsters just tore apart their theories.

One thing they did learn from the two experiences is they need more training. More experience, especially against dark magic. The hermits were strong, but the forces of darkness were stronger. But before any of them can take on each other, they first need to take on breakfast.

Which is a challenge in itself. Half of the hermits want to jump right into training, ignoring the guild hall and insistence of TFC. The other half are easily enticed by the scent of food.

Grian is practically vibrating in his seat, to the point that Iskall has to reach out and press his hand on the blond hair to keep him seated. “Who thought it was a good idea to give him syrup?”

“It’s not the breakfast, I can’t wait to get back to sparring!” Grian grins, turning to Mumbo. “You ready for another round of quickdraws?”

Mumbo groans, head falling back and mouth falling open. “Gri, you know I can’t quickdraw my magic circle.”

“Like, at all, dude.” Iskall hums, picking the skin off an orange.

“That’s how you’ll get better! Learn by doing!” Grian points out. He knows that Mumbo struggles with his magic- it’s a lot of magic to handle, being a multi-mage. But he’s seen Mumbo’s strength, he sees the potential in his best friend. And only someone as equally powerful as him, like Grian, can take on that power. Once it shows itself.

Stress walks by, rolling up her sleeves and brushing the rat’s nest from her hair. She sits down next to False, squeaking as the sharp slice of rock against metal cuts into the air. Stress realizes the shining alloy isn’t a plate. “False, haven’t we said before- no weapons on the tables?”

“It’s no used weapons. This is brand new, just finished forging it last night.” She picks the chakram by the handle in the center, tossing the disk blade across the table to Wels. “Why don’t you give it a try today?”

Wels laughs, giving the weapon a slice and a spin. “Let’s see Etho dodge this.”

Etho, hearing his own name, abruptly stands up from his seat and scurries into the nearest shadow, a strip of bacon shoved into his mouth as he pulls up his mask. Doc and BDubs only laugh, divvying up the remains of Etho’s breakfast.

Under the quiet seats under the massive oak, as old as the island itself, Keralis and Xisuma are studying. Keralis stopped by his family’s bookstore on the mainland, sifting through ancient tomes in hopes of finding something about dark magic.

“Ugh, why does no one write about dark magic, sheshwammy?” Keralis growls, his thick south Lairyon accent struggling to say Xisuma’s central name.

“Probably because it’s illegal to practice it, so no one knows anything about it.” Xisuma sets down another book, picking up the egg sandwich he made and taking a frustrated bite. “Though someone obviously does. But we need proof that this is dark magic, written proof.” He knows they can’t stop it themselves- that’s the arcane guard’s job. But after seeing all of Gildara abandoned, and most of the Asklepions killed, the least he can do is this.

“You really think the pen is mightier than the sword?” False questions, raising an eyebrow. She presses her knife into the sausage patty on her plate, daring Joe to answer.

“I mean, when my pen can make a giant magic sword with fire and lightning, yeah.” Joe grins, pressing his chin to his open palm. A dangerous glint appears behind his glasses, and he uses the other hand to push them up. Sun reflects off the spectacles, making it impossible for False to see anything beyond the smirk and the light- infuriating her.

“Cleo,” False grabs the pirate by her long coat and dragging her into the conversation. Without the paladin here to back her up, she needed someone else with a way with words. “You get what I’m saying. Tell me your blade there wouldn’t completely destroy Joe in a fight. I mean, all I’d have to do is cut up that journal of yours and your magic is useless!”

“Well, Joe does have a point. Sure, your forged weapons are the best in the kingdom, and Joe is screwed if he ever has to face you without his magic.” Cleo pauses, watching the two. “But I’m inclined to believe that words should come before violence- which is why anytime Mr. Joe of the Hills here refuses to finish his breakfast, I remind him with my words that I’m going to break his knees before i actually do.” Cleo pulls out her sword, setting the tip on the wood table.

Joe shoves the last of his pancakes into his mouth, quick to retreat from Cleo. He was asking for trouble with False, but he knows any of the women could easily kick his ass. Even as an S-Class. “Hey False, why don’t we take this debate to the training field, see how mighty the sword is to the pen?”

“You can’t escape me forever, Joe!” Cleo calls, watching as the two S-Class mages run down the hill and onto the latter half of the island. Their home island, Eremita, was separated into two parts. The southern side of the island lays claim to where the hermits live. An odd mix of towers and forges, ships and caves. It was up to the hermits to chose their own style of household- which created some disunion of the overall complex, but allowed for each member to express themselves. Everyone helped, whether Scar packed stone bricks or False forged iron nails.

The other half of the island, however, was left mostly untouched. A large field of grass, combed by the salty sea air, dotted with targets and barriers. A dirt circle cuts into the field, where hermits can duel one on one. Beyond the field, a large pond expands like an eye to the face of the island. Caressing the other shore, a dense forest grows on a slow rise of a hill, before stopping at the edge of the cove of a broad, sandy beach. It was a perfect home, a perfect place for an illegal guild to lay claim.

Training grounds quickly filled with groups and teams, even TFC getting in on strengthening himself. He wasn’t going to let some little rock keep him down for long. “Hey Cub, lets show these guys a thing or two about magic.”

The two silver haired, bearded men join the others well settled into today’s training. Deep in the forest, a soft explosion can be heard, followed by the giddy laughter as Zedaph leaps from tree to tree. Tango and Impulse struggle to follow him, and the birds diving for their heads don’t help. At the interface between trees and grass, Doc and Jevin have teamed up to amass an army. Objects under the devious control of Doc’s puppeteering magic, violent and unshaken to mimic the husks they fought. Jevin’s slime soldiers add bodies to the battle, flanking Iskall, Ren, and Xisuma. Hiding behind a barrier, Etho is waiting for the sun to reappear and for shadows to return, ducking his head as the chakram whizzes past. Despite his terrifying predicament, he has a coy smile on his face.

In the field, BDubs is practicing his aim with Scar, shredding apart haybales with their unique magic. Plants grow from one, thorns dug deep into the tightly bound material. The other has been knocked over and crushed by a boulder, Scar cheering his success. And in the center of the dueling ring, Mumbo and Grian stand still as stone. The quietest Grian ever has been. In a flash, as simple as a shift in the wind’s direction, Mumbo rushes to summon his circle. A second later, he’s blown off his feet, Grian grinning with blue embers fading away from his fingers. Mumbo groans, rubbing the dirt stained fabric on his rear. “You couldn’t have given me a few seconds? It’s not like I’d ever win.”

Grian offers an easy smile, waving Mumbo closer. “Come on, let’s practice the basics again. I know you can do it, friend.”

The hermits continue into the afternoon, only stopping their training briefly for lunch under the cool relief of the oaken guild hall. Groups disband and reform, training and practicing and learning from each other. Trying to be better, stronger together. So that next time they come face to face with an enemy, or the dark magic, they can win. They will win.

No guild is quite like the Order of Hermits. Apart from being illegal, they’re a mix of just about every kind of magic. A healing mage like Grian can stand side by side with Cleo’s underworld magic, no set skill required on requested. Varying strengths train side by side, not separated from better or worse. They all have something to learn from each other, even the strongest S-Class can be surprised by the newest mage. And often, Grian is. The magic is just as diverse as the people, the hermits that call Eremita home.

Training is cut short by a squall, appearing like magic and blowing across the Ashioll sea. Broiling grey clouds engulf the sun, and quickly send the hermits scattering into shelter. Well, most of them. The ZIT trio remained wrestling in the mud, and BDubs couldn’t help but join in.

Wels returns the chakram to False, a number of other hermits huddled around the blasting heat of False’s outdoor forge, nestled under the stone roof. Stress jumps back as an ember sparks out, nearly catching the trim of her robes. She rubs her exposed arms, the warm material of her fur coat wrapped around her waist. So much for the hot summer day.

Joe and Cleo have made up, and are plucking books from his library to read as the rain pours down, laughing as they watch Ren skitter away to his home, ears and tail tucked.

Xisuma sits at a window, looking out across the clouded green sea from his tower. He chose the Ashioll sea for a reason to make this his home. To start a guild here. No one else dared called these waters home. Old magic, magic so wild and arcane that not even the kiplings can control, residing here in these waters. Merchant vessels and battleships avoid the sea, and even the hermits don’t have every island mapped out. Though Grian and Xisuma are working on it. The sea was their safe haven, the island their home.

Xisuma turns his head, glancing at the white envelope on his desk. The yellow seal bearing a sun remains unbroken. He’s not ready to think about his brother. He knows he could have valuable information, and is likely concerned about him, but he can’t bear to open the letter today. He turns his head back to the storm, watching lightning streak across the sky, smelling the scent of the void left behind by the bolts. He doesn’t need his brother- he has his own family, right here.

They’ll do this, without Ex.

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cadcnce-archived · 4 years ago

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BIG ASS CHARACTER SHEET FOR FANTASY VERSE WYLAN

I found an image while going through my files for cursed pics to send @spiritmaiden, they had the audacity to take it and fill it out for the fantasy verse of their sky-zel, so I of course have to match the effort for Wylan because I’m not about to be shown up. It’s hella involved, nobody’s getting tagged but damn if you want an exercise in hitting your character then give it a shot. Most is under the cut because of length.

Character’s Name: Zachary Reis (Born) Wylan Rechtur (Used) Character’s nicknames: Ze (by his sister) Wy (by his friends and preferred) Zephyr (mercenary name, also what you’d see on any wanted posters) Gender: Male Righty or Lefty: Righty Age: 25-26 Height: 6′-0″ Weight: ~180 lbs Eye Color: Emerald green, bright and wide filled with a mix of confidence and playfulness. Hair color: Dark brown, messy and falling to his ears. Unkempt may be a good descriptor, but he generally keeps it down flatter at the least. Distinguishing marks: His body is pocked with marks and scars from fights and other disagreements, but the ones most easily discerned are knife scars on his hands, and a short arc above his left brow. Describe physical traits in one passage: A good way to view him is concealed strength and agility. He’s toned and in good shape but doesn’t often dress or carry himself in ways that would flaunt this. His posture and pose are loose, and his expressions can be lazy and playful. So the moment he flips that switch and uses the full brunt of his power? It’s a surprise. He’s also a bit on the lanky side, his body size doesn’t fully compliment the size of his limbs.

FAMILY/ RELIGION

Parents: Mother and father were disappeared/dead when he was just a bit over 6 years old and his sister was an infant. They were involved with the church but not royalty themselves. Wylan never spent much time figuring out what. They had a life left for him and his sister that he threw away as well. His father was a gentle soul while his mother was razor sharp and firm. Siblings: Younger sister, Katelynn Reis, but goes by Lyn with her friends. Wylan calls her Kat. She’s ~5 years younger than he, and remains with the church training and working as a healer. Whereas Wylan ran away from being a Paladin, she stayed strong to become a Cleric. Significant Other: Verse dependent, Wylan typically is averse to romance and prefers casual encounters. Children: None, nor is he open to them initially in his canon. Other relatives: None remain living that he is aware of. He and his sister were raised by his grandmother on his father’s side, but she passed away shortly after he left the knight’s academy, when Wylan was roughly 16-17. Pets: None. But he does enjoy talking to cats. Friends: Wylan is the type who ‘knows a guy’, he’s close with many tavernkeeps and makes nice with the adventurer’s guilds and their members as well. His work as an informant necessitates things like this. Wylan is also the type to consider most anyone he encounters and converses with a friend, whether they like it or not. His best friend though would easily be a wandering adherent by the name of Emke. I don’t care what the thread is about in some way she’s involved in his life. They’re platonic soulmates. Enemies: As a mercenary and hunter, some others in his craft would consider Wylan to be their rival, and in many cases he would view them just the same. It’s hard to say he has any enemies outside of pointedly evil factions however! Relationships (other): His relationship with his sister is an odd one. They’re still in touch via letters and the occasional visit, and he does what he can to support her with his money, but they’re not close like conventional siblings. There’s a strange codependence between them. Wylan depends on Lyn as a ‘rock’, and she depends on him as the ‘sea’. Ethnicity: Human! His origins are mostly a mix of Germanic/Portuguese if you wanted a comparison to Earth races/ethnicities. Religion: He recognizes the existence of higher powers but his relationship with them isn’t the best. As if being rebellious to his parents wasn’t bad enough he has to be tsundere towards The Light. This is noted when he uses holy magic such as wards and smiting spells and getting rebound into his own body upon use. Superstitions: He’s incredibly wary around the undead and spirits. So catch him spreading salt when he has to camp somewhere less than lively. Also give him a moment to sharpen his silver weaponry... Diction, Accent, ETC.: His dialect is pretty clean, though this depends on who he’s speaking to, being the travelling sort he is he’s capable of lightly ‘faking’ various accents, or just being lazy with his own manner of speech. Traces back to proper speaking that was drilled into him as a child and then his own rebelliousness. SCHOOL/ WORK / HOME Education (Highest): He was well learned with the academy work that he actually accomplished. While he never finished and never put his all into his studies, it was clear to his teachers that he had a gift for learning but a problem with conviction. Degrees: None! But just so I still have something here, one of his informal titles is ‘The Gale’s Fang’. Vocation/Occupation: Jack of several trades, wrapped up best as a mercenary informant, and a monster hunter. He’s good at tracking both people and monsters and taking them down- lethally or not so much. Employment History: Wylan was fully involved with the knight’s academy from the age of 6 to 16, so for those 10 years he had his hands full dealing with that and trying to figure out himself (poorly). Upon leaving the academy after the accident, he took up arms and was given tutelage by the thieves’ guild which taught him how to use his senses and move quietly through the shadows. Wylan didn’t make a good pickpocket, but he was good at reading other people and exceptional at duels. It wasn’t long before he took the advice of the guildmaster and made better uses of his talents. Not necessarily for good, but for more profit. By the age of 22 he was an accomplished and well connected informant, bartering information as well as putting his swordwork to use headhunting and slaying monsters that made issue outside the cities in which he frequented. This continues to current/canon start of interactions. Salary: He’s affluent enough not to worry too much about his state of living, but he can be prone to splurge spending that puts him in a bind for a few weeks at a time, at least until the next job puts money back on the table. Status and money: Continuing off the above, he’s decent enough with his funds (after sending money back to help out his sister) but wouldn’t be well off enough to be considered rich compared to his modern verse. Fortunately he has enough renown that jobs aren’t too hard to come by for him. And many barkeeps and friends are willing to open a tab for him. So he’s not too desperate. Own or Rent: Wylan typically rents inn rooms when he stays in the cities, and camps when he’s out in the woods. Technically he also owns if you count helping his sister keep her own place running (thought it’s really about 30-70, with his sister funding most of it) Living Space: Wylan never stays long at the room. It’s a place to go back to and sleep. Personal belongings? Very few. Most things he owns that he wouldn’t want to lose stay back with his sister kept in a basement or separate room that he uses on the rare times he’s back in the capital/holy city from which he originally hailed. As you can imagine, this isn’t very often. Work Space: N/A! He doesn’t have one! Given his work is almost entirely in the field. Main Mode of Transportation: CATCH A RIIIIIDE. Though he’s apt to have a horse around for transport if he isn’t going too far. Long voyages for when he changes locales would probably be hitching a ride with a caravan. He also doesn’t mind voyages on foot too much. PSYCHOLOGY Fears: Externally he has an aversion to ghosts and spirits. The concept of the dead coming back to haunt you isn’t something he much cares for. Having access to light magic should mostly assuage this, and yet it can give him goosebumps anyhow. Ironically he has a fear of large mammals in his modern verse but that shit doesn’t apply here given he’s a monster hunter! Internally he fears being forgotten, not making a name for himself, and dying before he can truly feel alive. Secrets: His birth name, Zachary Reis, isn’t something he will bring up with anyone. It’s not necessarily a ‘dead name’ for him, but it’s one he threw away the same time he decided he was going to toss away his ‘fate’ as a paladin. Taking the name of Wylan was another way he took his life for himself in his mind. Despite this being a path of self destruction. His sister is also something he doesn’t often bring up unless he very much trusts that person. IQ: Surprisingly high. He picks up a lot of information doing the work he does, but you wouldn’t be blamed for not believing this. Eating Habits: They could be a lot better. He eats enough to get by, but his diet isn’t as varied as it could be. Wylan hunts small game when he can, but he isn’t an exciting cook so ALAS. This boy prefers hitting up taverns and getting basic meals like stews, jerky, sandwiches, etc etc. Sleeping Habits: Wylan is a very light sleeper. Typically if you so much as step into the room he’s sleeping in he’ll snap into awareness. It takes a loooong day of exertion to keep him sleeping deep otherwise. Frustrating is how he ‘fakes’ being asleep. So someone could come in and start rummaging and he would still breathe and move as if he were still sleeping. Up until he sits up and stares or cracks a joke. Dare you to kiss him when you think he’s asleep. Book Preferences: History tomes every now and then. Wylan doesn’t read much fiction and prefers any time he spends reading to be somewhat productive! Make up for other education he missed as part a result of running on the academy. He also reads up on magic and sorcery to work on the wind affinity he also has. Music Preferences: Wylan doesn’t play any instruments but he DOES love love love to dance and sing. He’s an entertainer at heart and loves to rally people however he may. Suffice to say he’s amusing to go drinking with. And not just because he starts bar fights to amuse himself. Groups or Alone: He’s primarily a lone fighter. Some hunts he will of course work with a team of other hunters, he’s not stupid enough to take on the larger beasts by himself, but there’s a preference for doing things on his own terms. He’s self aware enough to know that his ways and methods can be grating, but ah... how all of that clashes with his desire to show off and have an audience. Being Wylan is suffering. Leader or Follower: He’s both, but prefers to be a follower if he can help it. Let other people make the plans then nudge them this way and that to better fit your own methods. He’s a prankster and a good compliment to most parties after all, so you’d be wise to utilize him! Lest he utilize himself... but that said, he’s an anti-hero, so there’s possibility in there for him to be a leader as well and take charge. It just isn’t his default nature and he’d rather not. Planned Out or Spontaneous: Wylan is chaos incarnate. Most everything he does outside of necessity/work is spontaneous. All his mischief and plans are cobbled together and thrown out there. Sometimes he’ll do a bunch of things at once, like throwing a bundle of darts at the wall to see which ones stick. And oh my fucking god don’t get me started on being romantic he can’t plan for shit in that department. Journal Entries (Do they keep one?) Nope. Not a daily journal at least. He’ll keep notebooks and the like for jotting down intel and what have you for jobs he takes up. But most of the time he’ll just have little notes in his pocket, and not really chronicle his life. He may also make ‘fake’ entries to tease people or trick them. See what he did to Zelda the one time. Be careful what you believe... Hobbies, Recreation: Tricks!! Sleight of hand!! Cards and dice!! Part of growing up and learning with a thieves’ guild is getting involved in lots of things that make use of your hands and dexterity. He likes playing random games with folks and oh! People watching. Stalking. Not the cutest thing but Wylan makes a hobby out of ‘testing himself’ and exercising his talents. His hobby is unfortunately annoying people, to summarize. How Do They Relax: His hobbies help him to relax! Also, if you can believe it, sitting back in a group conversation and watching the conversation happen and move forward. Learning about other people is something he likes doing, which is hypocritical since he can make himself so difficult to learn by contrast. BUT THE REAL THING HE DOES.. is practice sword fighting. Slow rhythmic swings of his blade, almost like a dance. He focuses his thoughts and calms his soul when he practices. It’s like a mix of swordfighting, dancing, and yoga. Controlling himself. Feeling himself. It’s multiple things. What Excites Them?: PEOPLE. Things! Happenings! The unknown and pushing himself to new limits. Honestly one of Wy’s biggest drives is doing something or becoming something that will make him ‘Feel Alive’. Because for all of his antics and frivolity he’s very much fighting an encroaching darkness in his soul. So he’ll search out bizarre things to get involved in. It’s one of the reasons he’s bugging Zelda, because her involvement in witchcraft and his own suspicions have him interested huehue. Pet Peeves: Being ignored. Like perfectly disregarding his existence and whatever he’s getting up to. If you’re not reacting to him being him then that means he’s not being effective and he’s losing. It’s his only real weakness... Prejudices: None. He’s not the most respectful person so most everyone, royalty or important or otherwise gets subjected to similar treatment. If anything, the more important you are the more likely you are to get annoyed! Attitudes: He’s usually with a front, a mask if you will. His general attitude is curious and nosy, but that’s fronted with a playfulness and proclivity for being annoying. Don’t be fooled, he’s usually something more pensive and calculating underneath that exterior. Wylan actually quiets a fair bit once that mask is taken away, his mood swings down and his tone is a touch deeper. Stressors: Things going awry and his friends being put in danger. He absolutely does not do well with people he cares about being hurt. One of the worst things that can happen to him is his sister dying for example, and has lead to one of his most self destructive plots I’ve written, in this verse especially. Lovers? Don’t hurt them. Don’t endanger them. The idea of rivals or enemies going after people he cares about.. hoo. MAN. None of that please. He can be SO damn possessive. In relationships he’s very self conscious as well of fulfilling their needs. So if his partner remarks, regardless of how offhandedly, they’d like more of something he will TRY TO MAKE THAT HAPPEN. Obsessions: Being an absolute pain in the ass. And in cases where someone has wronged him or someone close to him? Tracking them down and getting closure/revenge. That shit takes him to the brink of killing himself. Addictions: None to the point of being problematic, but he does love eating pickles. Ambitions: To make a name for himself, to be renowned and respected. To feel alive and accomplished as a person. He’d also like to take down a dragon someday. Get some armor from its scales and a sword out of that shit. As Seen by Others: Capable and dangerous, but impossible to work with for long periods. Keep a tight lip around him lest he use that information against you and learn things you’d rather keep secret. A lecherous womanizer. As Seen by Self: A body of broken glass, encased in a shell, covered in masks. Who are you? What are you? Where are you even going? You’re lost. You’re aimless. You’re swimming and swimming and eventually you’re going to be tired, aren’t you? ASTROLOGY/PHISIOLOGY Birth Date: October 10. Time of Birth: Evening. Western Astrological Sign: Libra Traits Associated with Western Sign: Social, Clever, Unreliable, Diplomatic Traits Associated with Chinese Zodiac: N/A, seeing as I don’t age Wylan with the years this doesn’t really apply. Handwriting: Clean when he needs it to be, but otherwise a quick script with lots of pen strikes. He’s capable with drawing diagrams and the like as well! This boy can throw out monster diagrams with weak points and other ecological notes oh yes yes. Sexual History: Wylan was already exploring that sort of thing before he left the academy, so yes... as early as 16 he’d already lost the v-card. He doesn’t really do relationships and enjoys casual encounters. Many a maiden at the bar or elsewhere has taken him for a spin. Typically partners aren’t reoccurring in fantasy verse, however. He’s... well, very good in the performance category. General Health: A+ healthy aside from the sleep and subpar diet bits. Strong and good stamina. Medical History: He’s nearly died one times too many. Been stabbed, cut, poisoned, bitten, but hey he’s still alive! And that’s what he’d argue matters with this business. Allergies: SHELLFISH. Chronic Illnesses: None to speak of. Handicaps: He’s somewhat of a type B tsundere. It’s awful. OBJECTS Purse / Bag: He’s got a coin purse that he’ll carry spare gold around in for spending on what have you. Supposedly food but he’s weak to splurge purchases. Most everything else he keeps on him in his pockets and his belt. Wallet: Uhhh see above, coin purse!!! He’s got enough for the week or so!! Don’t try and pickpocket him because he will catch you and you will feel stupid. Fridge: He doesn’t keep food around. He more or less has to scavenge for everything he eats either through buying or hunting. That’s kind of the life for the vagrant he is, isn’t it? Medicine Cabinet: N/A, but he does keep bandages and salves at his room. Glove Compartment: N/A!! Junk Drawer: NNNNNN/AAAAAAA Kitchen Cabinets: Wylan get a house so I can fill this out challenge. Bedroom Hiding Place: Behind a wall panel or somesuch if he can manage. Otherwise in the floor or outside the window. Closets: His wardrobe typically includes tunics, coats, leather armor and harnesses for his weaponry! He’s got a couple swords in fantasy verse, and he’s got throwing knives and a grappling hook!! Backback: Yeah uh see above, what a question. Locker: None Desk: WYLAN KEEP ITEMS AROUND CHALLEEEEENGE. Clothes pocket: Daggers, notes, maybe a writing implement and paper so he can jot things down. He’s also got little knick knacks like a gem or a monster tooth to show off. Isn’t it cool??? Also lint.

OTHER Halloween Costumes: Werewolf!!! Get him in either just a lazy one with gloves and ears or deck him out in the whole garb. Love that idea on him. In one verse Big Bad Wolf is his nickname, and in another he flat out IS a werewolf! So yeAH. Tricks: He’s very skilled at sleight of hand!! Card flourishes and dice rolls. Cup games. Illusions and dexterity... he’s a slippery one! He’s also likely to catch you in words, using things you say against you. He gets really meta and oh how annoying that can get... Talents: SWORDPLAY- He learned from a very early age at an esteemed academy where only the best knights get trained. He mixes that style with a more ‘street’ type that he picked up with the thieves’ guild and even further as a monster hunter and mercenary. Suffice to say that all mixes together into multiple stances he can switch between depending on what he’s up against. Strong sweeping strikes, vicious stabbing and leaping, poised dueling and parrying... he’s a TOUGH fight. MAGIC: Wylan is at odds with his use of holy magic that utilizes the light to bless and heal. Until he comes to terms with himself and the power he wants to channel it’ll have ‘blowbacks’ on himself. Fingers will burn, head will ache, and his stomach will flip. But it’s still undeniably effective for where it is! Aside from that he knows some wind magic to supplement himself. He’s not known as ‘Zephyr’ for nothing after all! Gusting steps, slashing winds, REALLY BIG JUMPS!!! If you throw him he’s a fantastic projectile! And lets see- DANCING! He learned it first as part of his etiquette as a knight, but it’s something that’s evolved with him and oh does he enjoy festivals for that reason. Ballroom styles are what he’s most familiar with. Dance with him. Please dance with him. Politics: Indifferent! Doesn’t care for authority figures to begin with so in any case or kingdom with a monarchy he’s very buh about it. He’s very self-accomplished and his beliefs would push him towards meritocracy over anythign else if you ask me! Flaws: Suspicious, possessive, and very persistent. This could be a strength too but for the most part can be seen as a detriment because of how it ends up being applied. Which is in self-destructive tendencies WOO. He’s also very lustful, and can be distracted by a fine woman and let himself be swayed by his desires over time. Have I mentioned he isn’t the most reliable? He’s apt to lie to people and give intentionally wrong impressions just to make it easier for him to slip away. You gotta go up a few levels to unlock that... So yeah, sins are WRATH, LUST, and ENVY. Strengths: NONE. Okay if you earn a solid place as his friend there is almost NO limit to what he’ll do to protect you. Wylan has a ridiculous amount of determination and mental fortitude and he can and will strike down a GOD to keep those things that are precious to him. He’s also an amusing character to have around, if you are feeling bummed he is almost guaranteed to find a way to cheer you up and support you if only so he can not feel as guilty teasing as he usually does HUE. He’s got a very up beat personality! Sure, a lot of it is a mask but he WANTS it to be real and that’s what really matters if you ask me. His reckless optimism can be endearing. There’s a lot of other surprising mental qualities such as how clever and quick witted he can be. Part of that mental fortitude lets him think and fight on his feet regardless of how much pressure he’s under. It takes a LOT to dampen his thought processes. Drugs/Alcohol: He drinks frequently, but he wouldn’t be counted as a drunkard. Wylan rarely drinks to excess, and prefers to do so among friends and good company. Passwords: Uh, do ritual prayers count? Magical spells? Heh. Email Address, Home Page, Blogs, etc.: Oh if only this were for modern verse... Time and place: Medieval fantasy! Magic and creatures! I also love throwing Monster Hunter vibes in for the big monsters he goes up against. Special Places: For him? Cliffs overlooking the ocean. Abandoned temples he can just chill at. For all he enjoys being around people now and then he really appreciates quiet isolation. Special Memories: Lots of memories with his sister before they more or less split ways. There’s one in particular where he was trying to teach her swordplay when she was just a little girl, and she about stubbed his toe when the wooden practice sword fell right on it. Her panicked attempts to try and heal him were something that really stuck with him.

#musings :: about #verse :: fantasy #dash :: games hc #THIS TOOK FOREVER #but was so satisfying to write and get out there #hell fuckin yes #if you actually read this? props tbh

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curiosity-killed · 5 years ago

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a hard night

@synergetic-prose ahhh okay i LOVE this prompt and also am sorry that this got....somewhat sidetracked and only sort of followed said prompt orz

Pairing: Shiro/Allura/Ulaz Word count: 2045 Warnings: Major character death (fake), PTSD, nightmares

They all have their own ways of handling their scars. In the middle of the night, Shiro will slip out on silent feet to train against the gladiator until his legs quiver from exhaustion and his arms can no longer lift his bayard. Allura will hole up in the command center, monitoring the surveillance both within and without of Atlas — making sure no one attacks and no one disappears. There are nights where Shiro can’t stand the softness, the openness, of a bed and tucks himself into a corner of the room where he can keep an eye on both them and the door. A chair is his only concession to comfort those nights. Nightmares wake them all. But tonight — tonight is a good night. It’s been a long day, filled from the first moment to the last. Ulaz’s shoulders ache with the strain of having been well-used, and the soft pads of his fingertips sport the tender rawness that comes before callouses have had a chance to form. The bricks they used and the tall beams were still rough, and he probably should have worn gloves. Still, it’s his favorite kind of fatigue: one born of rebuilding instead of fighting, hope instead of fear. The industrial showers of Atlas had washed away the dirt and dust of reconstructing from his fur, and Allura had insisted on braiding back his crest till only the very tip was loose to tickle the back of his neck.

Now, curled around Shiro with his ankles tangled in Allura’s, Ulaz has only enough energy to seep into the honey-warm contentment that has settled deep in his chest. Already, Allura’s chest rises and falls with easy long breaths, and Shiro gives him a sleepy smile from where his face is smushed into the pillow, half-hidden. Lifting a hand, Ulaz combs gently through his bangs, brushing them sideways out of Shiro’s eyes. His smile broadens and he closes his eyes, nestling deeper into the mattress and pillow. Taking a deep breath and letting it out easy, Ulaz does likewise and lets sleep slip blanket-like over him. The grass is soft, flattening beneath his boots rather than crunching and breaking off. The fire hasn’t reached here — yet. Already the air has turned thick and grey, smoke a living thing that coils against his suit, forms feeble hands around his neck. If he peers hard enough, he can make out the shapes of the buildings, half-ruined, crumbling in silhouette through the smog. He can’t be that far away. He has to make it. Urging his limbs to move faster, he finds them heavy, sluggish. Silence rings in his ears, the echoes of an explosion he wasn’t there to witness. There’s a kind of pressure deep in his skull that buzzes in the curves of his inner ears, and the edges of his vision are blurry, smudged like fingerprints on a visor. He trips on the long arms of the smoke still rising from the ashes of these strangers’ homes. Kolivan is first. His eyes are still open, dulled and paled against the stark scarlet dried over his throat and jaw. White bone gleams through the ruin of his cheek. Ulaz’s stomach lurches but he stumbles on. There’s no saving his leader, but the cause has always been greater than one soldier, greater than any of them put together. It must go on. He must go on. More bodies follow soon after, some he knows, some he only saw in passing. Some wear masks but others are bared and their faces look so young, too young, barely older than kits. He cannot stop to grieve for them. The time for helping the dead is long past. All he can do now is search for the living. He doesn’t find them. One by one, the broken bodies of the paladins appear through the rubble. Garish red streaks across the white of their armor. Hand prints pattern Hunk’s cuirass and finish at his cheek, too small to belong to his own hand. Beside him, Pidge is crumpled with her face hidden in the rocks. Lance is a little further off, facing away. Ulaz can’t bring himself to walk to the other side, to see the aftermath of the helmet fractured and dripping red just beside the paladin’s lean body. He doesn’t find Keith at all, only the red bayard and the shards of a luxite blade. His hand flexes, curls tight on empty air instead of his own saber’s handle. Rare and terrible is the force that can shatter a Blade. Swallowing, he forces himself to go on. The urgency of before has drained away, replaced with a heavy despair. Desperation is the only thing that keeps his steps from halting completely. He hasn’t seen Shiro or Allura yet. They could still — they might not be — he could — He finds them together — and alive. Shiro’s grey eyes burn violet, quintessence a toxic blood crackling through him with the acrid taste of Haggar’s touch. His left hand wraps around the black bayard’s handle, curled over Allura’s fist. The tip of the blade juts scarlet and wrong from his back, a perfect line to Allura’s arm. His right hand is pressed to her belly, knuckles kissing her skin where the blade of his prosthesis has burnt through armor and undersuit. The scent of burning flesh clogs the air, chokes Ulaz where the smoke hadn’t succeeded. Rigor alone seems to hold them in place, bodies using the last of their fight to make sure that this gruesome sacrifice is complete. When Allura turns to him, it is with jerky motions, mechanical. Her blue eyes burn. “You,” she hisses. Blood trickles dark down her lip, sluggish. “You were supposed to stop this. This is your fault.” He knows enough about Altean anatomy now to know where her injuries must fall, know the source of the thick black-burgundy blood staining her teeth. His mind, inconsiderate beast, turns to that with a kind of detachment, cataloguing the damage done to her as if he were still performing research in Haggar’s torture chambers. A punctured lung, internal bleeding, potential rupture of digestive organs — by rote, it notes them down as if in black-and-white text on a report. “Why didn’t you do anything,” Allura snarls, voice rising in a hoarse call. “Why didn’t you save us?” His feet are planted to the spot, staked into the grass as if they’ve grown roots. Even if he could move, he doesn’t know what he’d do. To touch her would be an insult, a disgrace. She’s right. Her words deserve more than his faltering comfort, his insufficient justification. He should have fought harder, should’ve done more, sacrificed himself before accepting the death of a thousand others. “You failed us,” Allura cries. Beneath his feet, the planet shudders and groans, giving way at last. When he falls among the rubble, the darkness is almost a relief from the hatred in Allura’s eyes. He wakes to the soft hush of Atlas’ air cycle kicking on. Their room smells of soft things, clean fabric, a hint of juniberries, but the smell of death clings to his fur and mind. Swallowing, he unfolds his fists to lay flat over his belly and forces himself to breathe. Long, slow inhales and matching exhales expand his chest, press the warm fur up against his palms. His heart beats a frenetic rhythm in his neck, ragged with remembered fear and adrenaline. He remembers that planet, that mission, that failure. He’d been so much younger then — in heart more than years — and still heady with the arrogance of the newly initiated. Back then, he’d still believed that their sacrifices meant that no one else had to sacrifice, that their deaths meant that no others had to die. And then Kijala Four had happened. His fingers tighten, claws scraping through his fur, and he forces them to relax once more. He taught himself this practice back when he was working under Haggar. Any discrepancies, any odd behaviors, would jeopardize the mission, and so he could not afford to get up and walk the ship’s cold corridors or commandeer a training room until his body was too exhausted for dreams. Any comfort he sought, he found alone and in stillness. The witch’s eyes were ever-present and rarely inhibited by wall or closed door. Like a small creature, he holed up in the darkness and stilled his trembling limbs to keep away from the hunter’s gaze. The mattress dips and there’s a rustle to his left. “‘Laz?” Allura mumbles, his name a mush of sound. “Apologies,” he murmurs, “I did not mean to wake you.” “Didn’t,” Allura says before a yawn splits her words, squeaking on the end. She lifts a hand to sweep back the great tide of white hair tumbling over her forehead. “Atlas thought you were in distress.” Despite himself, Ulaz’s lips twist in displeasure. He should be used to it by now: Allura and Atlas are nearly a single whole, divisible only with effort and never completely, and though Shiro’s connection to Atlas is dwarfed next to his with the Black Lion, his time nestled in Allura’s soul left them bound. By extension, occasionally, Ulaz benefits from a strange sort of benevolence from the ship that offers him rooms at a preferred temperature or pathways opening up to speed his trips around the many levels. Still, he cannot quite accustom himself to the invasiveness of the ship’s sentience and omniscience. “It is nothing,” Ulaz says, stiff. Propping her cheek up on one fist, Allura eyes him in silence for a moment. There’s a keenness, a knowing, to her gaze that tiredness doesn’t abate. “Was it a nightmare?” she asks. He hums, reluctant to give much answer. It was a nightmare in the most basic sense, a terrible dream wrought of his own fears — but it was not only fantasy, was grounded in true failings, in sense memories that linger in his hands and ribcage. He doesn’t want to burden her with the phantasms his mind concocts or the terrible truths from which they’re born. “Would touch make it worse?” Allura asks. That gives him pause, and he hitches up his shoulders in an uncertain shrug. “Not worse,” he offers. It’s enough for Allura to give a firm nod and turn around to swing her legs off the edge of the bed. The motion seems to rouse Shiro, who lifts his head to squint blearily first at her and then at Ulaz. “What’s wrong?” he asks, voice thick with sleep. “Nothing,” Ulaz answers. “Just a bad dream.” Shiro’s forehead scrunches up in a frown. It doesn’t ease as Allura steps around the foot of the bed to clamber up on the other side. Ulaz has to shift inwards to make room, and in doing so, realizes that something’s changed about their relative proportions. He twists around to look at Allura and finds her his same height, tall enough to curve around him from back to toes and reach over him to Shiro. “How is that?” Allura asks. Her voice comes out in a warm breath against his shoulder, and he can feel the steady thump of her heart against his back. Swallowing, he gives a little nod. “Good,” he says. She hums and nestles a little closer, tucking her feet between his ankles and her face into the curve of his neck. On his other side, Shiro watches the proceedings with a solemn, confused frown before it eases into a gentle smile. Smallest of their trio, he folds himself into Ulaz’s chest so that his head fits under his chin and his left arm curls around his side. If they stay like this, that arm’s bound to go numb, but Shiro shows no sign of discomfort, and Ulaz makes no move to dissuade him. The weight of their bodies on either side seems to form a kind of gravity, a grounding force that tethers him here and now. He sinks into it, lets his lungs follow the steady rise and fall of their chests, lets his heart settle into a matching rhythm. The nightmares will return someday, will crawl back on broken, bloodied feet. For now, though, his princess and paladin will keep him safe.

#shalluraz #shiro #allura #ulaz #voltron #vld #voltron ficlet #my writing #ot3: asterism

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the-lightning-strikes-again · 6 years ago

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Hello. I'm Dasha from ao3. As you say, you opened reguests, so i ask a Lion King (first and second cartoons) for Lotor's movies might. Thank you.

Movie Time With TSL Lotor: The Lion King I (1994) and II (1998)Edition

“And this,” Lotor was saying, leaning his elbows against thepillow in his lap, “is another Disney movie, yes?”

Pidge sat on the floor beside the couch, flanked by both Hunkand Lance. “Yep.” The image of the movie’s cover flashed onto the main screen,revealing an image of a hand-drawn lion and the title The Lion King.

Lotor’s white brow quirked. “Strange,” he murmured. “Are youcertain we did not already watch this? What was that children’s programming youintroduced me to earlier…” He snapped his fingers a few times to jog hismemory. “The White Lion, with Kimba.”

“A separate cartoon, but uh, yeah. Lions, man.” Hunk laughednervously. “They’re everywhere.”

Lotor hummed. “I am beginning to think so as well.” Heleaned his cheek in his hand curiously, narrowing his eyes. “Regardless, knowingthat this is Disney, I can assume with a particular level of certainty that theprotagonist is a young one whose parent or parents are in a tragedy of sorts. Thestory will undoubtably pull my heartstrings in some way, regale me with song,and then round back to a message of hope or self-discovery. Does that aboutcover it?”

The three young paladins paused and looked at each other.Lance scratched his chin and said, “Yeah, that’s about right. Way to spoil it,dude.”

The prince shrugged in a light humor. “I enjoy sensiblepatterns.”

But as the movie began, an inspiring call of song rosethroughout the hall. Lotor’s brows raised in interest of the sound, which wasdifferent from the other music he had so far heard from the planet Earth.

Pidge then turned to Lance and whispered, “Ten bucks saysAllura’s gonna fly through that door any second.”

Lotor’s ear flicked, caught between listening to the wondrousmusic and the paladins’ whispering.

Lance whispered back, “I’m so not taking that bet. She’sprobably already in the hall. I give her like, five seconds.”

“I give her three.”

Just then, Allura slammed open the door, eyes wide in a franticexcitement. “Lions!” she called. “Oh, this is The Lion King, how dare you all watch something about lions withoutme. Honestly, the nerve. You know I love lions.”

All four sets of eyes stared up at her—with Lotor’s beingthe widest.

Allura swept in, her regal dress and perfectly set curlsflaring behind her. And then she, with an upmost lack of regality, flopped ontothe couch opposite Lotor. She dared to stretch her slippered feet out, to theprince’s surprise. He stared down in shock, face flushing, as he realized thatshe had propped her feet right into his lap as if such things were perfectly ordinary.

“I…was sittinghere, princess,” he strangled out lightly.

The tips of her slippers wiggled in excitement, the goldthreads catching the light upon the pillow. “And now I am too. I cannot say noto The Lion King.”

Lotor swallowed hard as he gazed upon her excited face.

Hunk broke his maddening race to think of something to say.

“You’ve seen this, like, four times,” Hunk called to Allura.“So we kinda figured maybe you’d be bored or something.”

The princess gasped, raising a hand to her chest. “Never.This movie is precious. And it has talking lions. I could not ask for more.”

Lotor hesitantly leaned his arms over Allura’s calves insearch of a comfortable position. He had seen the paladins flop over oneanother often—with Pidge falling asleep on top of Lance, Hunk leaning his headagainst Keith’s shoulder, and even Shiro dog-piling on top of them all once in thename of claiming the couch. Such actions were, Lotor believed, signs of deepcamaraderie.

He wondered if Allura’s candid movements were a sign ofincreased trust. He felt a rising sun in his chest at the thought, and theglimmer of stars bursting in his lungs when she did not move away but wiggled abit in all her finery to get comfortable for the rest of the movie.

He could feel her warmth through the fabric of theirclothes.

“If you all must know,” she declared airily, “Nala is my favoritecharacter.”

Lance deadpanned, voice light, “Would have never guessed.”

“Oh, hush, you. Your favorite characters are the laughinghyenas.”

“Hey, those hyenas are legit,alright?”

Lotor’s lips twitched, knowing at a certain point that thepaladins were growing careless in their discussions of spoilers.

——

As the movie progressed, Lotor’s merry smile turned to a suspended,thoughtful expression. The character of Simba was such a curious thing. Like him.But not like him.

The relationship he had with his father was something thatLotor almost felt envious of.

“You are more thanwhat you have become,” said the cosmic Mufasa. “You must take your place in the circle of life.”

Simba returned helplessly, “How can I go back? I’m not who I used to be.”

“Remember who you are.You are my son, and the one true king.”

Lotor felt chills down his body in an odd way, and for a time,he completely disengaged from the movie at the statement.

You are my son, andthe one true king.

He looked down at his emaciated hands. Despite eating enoughfor three people, he was still struggling to regain who he had once been. Helooked up.

“Going back means I’llhave to face my past,” Simba was saying to Rafiki on the screen.

“You can either runfrom it, or learn from it.” And then the baboon took a swipe at Simba withhis staff, and the young lion avoided the strike.

Lotor’s eyes widened in surprise, his previous thoughts fading to the back of his mind. “Ah, I know this tactic.How familiar and strange to see it here. Friends, this is the Galran way of the palen-bol.Learning from pain so that you may avoid it.“

Hunk’s eyes slid to his. “Ah, yeah, I’ve heard about palen-bol.Interesting stuff.” He laughed nervously.

The prince raised his chin in a quiet delight, to seehimself—somehow, a merrier version of his own people—in the movie.

—-

As it turned out, one movie about lions merged into two, the story continuing with Simba ruling over Pride Rock. Lotor was leaningforward now, brows furrowed in increased interest. So far, he had never seen asequel to a movie. He had not known that humans continued their stories onoccasion.

Now that Simba had ascended and claimed the throne of hisfather, what else was there to his story?

And then, after a short time, Lotor’s furrowed brows relaxed. “Ah, I see wherethe plot is going. This is a romance, with a forbidden element per Scar beingoutcast in the first movie.”

Lance waved his hand. “Romeo and Juliet style, with a lil’lion razzle dazzle thrown in for fun.”

Pidge cut in then. “Except they don’t die in the end.”

Hunk waved his hand and deadpanned, “I mean, nobody’s that heartless with a kid’s show, right? You can totally tell this is going somewhere good.”

Lotor leaned forward, lightly squishing against Allura’slegs as he grabbed for one of the rolls Hunk had so kindly grabbed from thekitchen. The princess herself had fallen asleep at some point toward the end ofthe first movie—her acts of diplomacy across the Coaltion often exhausted her—andshe grumped lightly at his movements.

Lotor stilled for a moment before hooking his claws into aroll, carefully leaning back. “At least,” he murmured, “a benefit of spoilersis knowing what I’m getting into. I can feel the themes of prejudice in thisstory. I should hate for it to end poorly.”

It was around then that Keith walked in, somewhat dead-eyedfrom a nap. He took one look at the movie screen and groaned. “Seriously, guys?This movie again?”

Lance raised his nose. “It’s a totally valid movie, Keef.”

“It’s so cliché,” the older boy moaned. “Just a dumbromance.” He turned to Lotor and added, “Seriously, if you ever wanna watchreal movies again, just—”

Lotor lightly set his roll aside and leaned down to clap hishands over Pidge’s ears. “—Best not to speak such criticism before the children,”he called merrily. “They are impressionable.” Pidge squawked. The movements wokeup a bleary-eyed Princess Allura, who found herself staring at the side-profileof a Lotor who was smiling without reservation, his lips wide.

The princess blinked several times at the image.

Her heart skipped, the sleep wearing away from her as sherealized that Lotor had her feet quite pinned between his lap and his chest.

Lotor seemed to sense her waking state. “Apologies, princess,”he murmured to her, still holding his hands strong to Pidge’s ears while Keithcomplained about the movie. “I believe we are all engaging in…play of somekind.”

Allura rubbed her eyes and giggled a bit. “It sounds likeit.” Her sleep-rough voice softened. “It is such a merry sound, though.”

And on the screen, one Kiara and Kovu stared at each otherin close proximity, awkwardly brushing off their increasing attraction.

Lotor turned to her, a quizzical arch in his brow despitehis merriment. “You would speak so highly of our chaos?”

“Always,” she said softly. And then she teasingly poked her slipperedtoe against his side.

The prince’s eyes widened as a noise escaped him. For a second,he grew very still. Then he slipped his hands away from Pidge’s ears to graspfor Allura’s foot. “Princess,” he said, voice strained. “You should know I amticklish.”

“I’m not sure you should admit to that around here,” shesaid merrily, still a bit sleepy in her eyes with a lazy smile stretching herfull lips.

He could not help himself.

Without warning, he ran his finger up the flat of her foot.

She squealed, eyes widening as she jerked her feet closer toher, her skirts slipping up her calves. “Oh, what a dirty trick!”

“On the contrary,” he said lightly. “Now I know you areticklish as well.”

Allura forced herself to sit up, her face flushing brightlyas she hid her feet well beneath the long length of her skirts, giving him adirty glare. “Well. At least I know we are evenly matched.”

A glimmer of a smile danced in his eyes. “For all ourdifferences, princess, I fear I must agree with you.”

And back on the floor, Hunk whispered to Pidge and Lance,jerking his thumb up, “You guys getting Kiara and Kovu vibes from these two orwhat.”

“Oh, man. Totally.”

“Not even a question.” Pidge rubbed her ear where Lotor hadlightly muffled her hearing with his hands. “But I worry about what that makesus.”

#Movie Time With TSL Lotor #Lotor #Allura #Lotura #Pidge #Hunk #Lance #Keith #Thanks for the request Dasha!#I hope you enjoy it!#this ended up a bit happier than I thought it would haha #it's hard to get the paladins to just watch a movie #i had fun writing this though #After so many movies Lotor must be feeling more at home with the paladins #my writings

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nocleansocks · 5 years ago

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Zephyr: 1. Yuri: 10, 65. Lumi: 16, 73. Hush: 7. =)

Ahahaha everyone gets a slice of this ask meme life1. If [Zephyr] wasn’t an adventurer, what livelihood would they lead?

I actually already had an answer for this one that was a big influence in a level-up decision! It’s been really fun watching Zephyr grow, even in an adventure league atmosphere where there isn’t much consistency or roleplay. Nonetheless, him dying and coming back (understandably) impacted him pretty hard, but for the positive! He made an almost paladin-like decision to fight and understand undead while ensuring common-folk and other adventurers wouldn’t meet an untimely death. With that being said, he can’t save everyone in the world himself, so one of his biggest character traits that’s developed in these higher-tier levels is that he’d 100% be a mentor or teacher! He took the magic initiate feat for the sole purpose of getting guidance, not as a mechanical benefit, but because he doesn’t want to see other people fail. Be it training them in battle or offering (ultimately confusing) advice, he would be a guiding force in others’ lives.

10. If [Yuri] had time to pick up any artisan’s tools, game set, instrument, etc., what would it be?

Tool-wise, I’d say Yuri’s strengths definitely lie in cooking and brewing, she even actually has calligrapher’s proficiency! In terms of something new to pick up, I could absolutely see her being interested in pottery. If she were to pick it up, it would be in secret. Sneaking off to train, practicing in a simple kiln somewhere downtown Stormhelm. Then, when she feels she’s good enough at it, she’d convince Lumi to gather her favorite flowers or plants “in whatever way you gardener’s do. I don’t know, can you just bring a plant inside? If you can, you should do that tomorrow.” Then, next thing you know, surprise! All of Lumi’s favorite plants have a new home in the windowsills in handmade pottery!

65. What is [Yuri]’s favorite food? Beverage?

She’s definitely a meat girl, preferring steaks and the like when possible! She by no means wants any part of the, er... “collection” process, she’s seen Lumi as an animal too often, but she knows who’s the most humane to buy from and she certainly knows how to cook all! Drink wise, she likes just about anything. Probably drinks more water than she needs to, but you can never bee too safe! Oh, but, man, she can make the best comfort drink out of warm milk, honey, cinnamon, and just a small pinch of tea leaves...

16. If [Lumi] wasn’t [a druid], what would they be instead?

I actually think she’d be a cleric, not necessarily for any capacity as a healer, but mainly because it’s another one of the wisdom-based classes. Specifically, she’d be in the nature domain, which feels like druid to a certain extent anyway, but it’s the second best way I see for her to stay connected with animals. I thought about sending her down the ranger path for the sake of this question, letting her get conjure animals and such, but I think the utility of nature cleric fits her much better. The channel divinity is a charm effect on animals and plants, and if that doesn't’ scream Lumi, I’m not sure what does.

73. If [Lumi] knew that they were going to die in a month, how would they spend the rest of their life?

Wew, that’s a question, isn’t it. As much of a cliche as it’s walking into, I think she wouldn’t tell Yuri for the first week or two. She’d care less about easing the process for herself or knocking out any sort of bucket list, but she’d spend the month making sure Yuri is prepared and taken care of. In her ideal world, she’d convince Yuri to take a month to travel, be it coast to coast, up to the mountains, or even hop over to a different continent real quick. What’s the point of committing to these druidic powers if you’re not gonna put ‘em to use, right? Once Yuri’s convinced and they’re on the road, that’s when she’d tell her, then she’d insist on them enjoying the rest of their trip. She’d make sure Yuri was home before the month was up and that all their business was in order and that Yuri had the support she needed, mainly emotionally. That’d be her dream plan, but if the month pans out that they stay right where they are and keep providing a safe haven for others, then hey, that’s a great set-up too.

7. Describe [Hush]’s current appearance: clothes, armor, scars they’ve picked up along the journey, etc.

Hohoho wouldn’t YOU like to know! There’s a lot I could say about how he looks right now (Is he bloodied and bruised in a dungeon somewhere? Sitting high up on a throne of dead bodies, sipping wine?) so let’s instead focus on how his appearance has changed since living in Stormhelm. Obviously his scars haven’t healed, thos are basically with him forever. they’re pretty much all on the back of hands, fingers, a few on his palms. He probably wears a lot more hand wrapping now. Traveling the road, he actually looks a little less colorful. Not the Belprin khaki’s-whites-and-grays look, but that Indiana Jones-esque adventuring professor look. His accent is less so on accessories and more so hat-focused now! Sun hats, wide brims, fashion hats of every sorts. (Does he just throw em away after wearing them? How does he travel with so many? Who knows it’s fantasy).

Nope, now that I think about it, I lied. He still has accessories. They’re just more mundane. Like glasses that he totally doesn’t need. Necklaces. He’s still rocking the low-cut Vs and poofy sleeves of course. Oh no is he turning hipster

#long post #ask meme #soc

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violaswimmer · 6 years ago

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A Mini Voltron Fic

Just a thought I had for the beginning of season 8, what I wish would happen but probably won’t! Still excited for season 8 which I think is coming out in November?

“Most of the paladins should be recovered in a week.” The doctor said smiling softly. Shiro’s shoulders visibly sagged with relief.

Keith had just been released the day before. He and his mother went with to the grave of his father, the visit long overdue. Shiro suggested waiting to do so, since Keith and the paladins had just been through so much, but Keith insisted. Shiro himself had just been released from the hospital a few days before, though he still felt the exhaustion in his bones.

Hunk, Pidge and Lance were still recovering however. Allura was released having some kind of special meeting regarding the machine that nearly destroyed Voltron. Apparently they had wanted to ask her questions regarding the power source, Shiro volunteered to go with her but she declined, saying that he should take this time to recover himself. But Shiro couldn’t sit still, the loss of Adam was clear in his mind, a regret that was too painful to touch just yet. If he sat still… he’d think on it too much. So instead he opted to keep an eye on the recovering paladins.

The doctor continued.

“There is only one we’re concerned about, Lance, he suffered injuries that were more extensive than the others.” She said quietly, looking at the holopad likely with Lance’s medical records on it. The bright screen reflected across her glasses.

“How so?” Shiro asked, trying to keep his voice level.

The doctor looked up at him quizzically and sighed.

“I suppose no one informed you. Lance was injured previously to the battle with Sendak, when he was attempting to get to the Galra base on Earth.” She said stiffly.

“When his comms went out…” Shiro said quietly.

“Yes. When speaking with Veronica, his sister, she informed us that their vehicle had been attacked, nearly exploded in half and the both of them were thrown from it. She already received treatment for her injuries which were luckily not severe. Their suits taking most of the damage...” The doctor paused, “They were both unconscious for several seconds, Lance woke up first and was immediately thrown into a battle while he waited for the Red Lion to appear, which luckily it did. But these factors in combination with what the paladins suffered afterwards… it will make his recovery a bit more difficult.” The doctor sighed.

“What do you mean?” Shiro asked, the shake in his voice a bit more present than before.

The doctor placed a gentle hand on Shiro’s arm, giving a soft squeeze.

“Luckily, Lance has already told us that we are allowed to speak to you regarding his recovery, so we can go into detail. We are doing everything we can and Lance understands the circumstances completely.” She said softly, letting go before tapping at the holopad.

“This is an image of Lance’s brain, taken while he was at the Garrison after a head injury during a flight simulation. It’s several years old but does give us some insight.” The doctor said, turning the holopad so that Shiro could see the scans more clearly.

The image on the screen showed what appeared to be a healthy brain.

“This is an image taken after he was brought in from his lion.”

The image was different, the brain looking crowded in his skull.

“It’s swollen.” Shiro said, swallowing, his throat felt dry.

The doctor nodded, swiping away the images.

“It’s called Cerebral Edema. We believe that he had a concussion when he was thrown from his vehicle which was exasperated by the ensuing battle and fall to Earth. We caught it in time, gave him some medications to help reduce the swelling but it hasn’t performed as we would have liked. Tomorrow we will be making an incision to remove part of his skull to relieve the pressure. Once the swelling goes down, we’ll perform surgery again to replace the missing piece. He’ll be as good as new after that, with the addition of a new scar but he will be perfectly healthy. But what he needs is time, and likely a little bit longer than the rest of the paladins. Maybe three weeks, maybe less, maybe more. Medicine has come a long way, and the other species of alien that have been coming to Earth have helped us immensely with his recovery. But even then time and rest are the best medicine for the body.” She said.

She continued to flip through the records on the holopad and continued.

“He had other injuries as well that need time to heal, several broken ribs, a fractured elbow, bruising on his lower stomach and some mild internal bleeding. Out of all of the paladins he is the most injured. His family has been informed. The procedure will take place tomorrow afternoon, he should begin to feel much better after it’s done.” The doctor said with a smile.

Shiro’s throat still felt dry.

“Okay... Is it alright if I visit him?” Shiro asked.

“Of course, just keep in mind that he is under some intense drugs, his family has already visited and he seemed semi-coherent, but he might be a bit slow.” The doctor said, “My office is right around the corner if you need anything, Captain Shirogane. Lance will be just fine.” She smiled and turned down the hall, her shoes clacking in the empty hallway.

Shiro swallowed and turned to face Lance’s door, his name written under the room number. He hesitated, was it even right to visit him in a time like this? To be honest Shiro hadn’t spent a lot of time with Lance out of all the other paladins. Plus he isn’t even sure what his clone was like during his absence, since he was stuck in the astral plane and all. Given everything that’s happened, they didn’t really have to catch up or get to know each other better. But he still cared for him. He felt so afraid when he when Lance hadn’t been responding, he never wanted anything to happen to him or the other paladins… ever. He was too young, they all were.

Shiro stepped in the room, door sliding closed behind him. Lance was on the bed, tubes strapped to his arm making him look very small. He wore a hospital gown, Shiro saw a hint of bandages under his collar, another wrapped around one of his elbows. Currently Lance wasn’t looking at him, looking instead out of the window. But hearing the sound of the door he turned his head slowly.

Maybe Shiro hadn’t noticed it before, but Lance had dark circles under his eyes. His blue eyes unfocused.

“Hey.” Shiro said gently, walking over to the bed, taking a seat next to it.

“Hey, Shiro.” Lance said, his voice sounding far off.

“How you feeling kiddo?” Shiro asked, placing his hands on the bed.

“Hmmmm... Okay I guess.” Lance said, looking at the ceiling, “The doctors said that I’m getting surgery tomorrow, and that I’ll feel better after that.” Lance said quietly.

“Yeah that’s right, you hit your head pretty hard. The surgery will help your brain stop swelling.” Shiro confirmed.

“Cerebral Edema. Yeah.” Lance said, “I’m a bit nervous though. I’ve never had surgery before.” Lance said, frowning.

For the first time Shiro thought he saw the true Lance, his walls temporarily down because of the drugs. The 17 year old who has experience far more than he should. He should be dating and finishing school, pursuing his dreams and making dumb mistakes. He shouldn’t be in a hospital bed, worrying about the fate of the universe.

If Lance had been more coherent, Shiro is sure he would be laughing it off, telling Shiro that he’d have a cool scar on his head, making him the third paladin to get a scar (after Shiro and Keith) and that everything would be fine. He’d smile away any concern and gush to Shiro about how cool the Atlas was, mindlessly soothing away any of Shiro’s fears and at the same time drawing attention away from himself.

“Hey,” Shiro said, lightly holding Lance’s hand, the one covered in tubes, making sure not to disturb them, “It’ll be okay, these doctors are some of the best at the Garrison.” Shiro said quietly.

Lance nodded, “I know, still nervous though.” A thought seemed to come to his mind and he looked at Shiro intently, “You’re okay right? Do you have family coming to visit you?” Lance asked concerned.

Shiro smiled, how very like Lance.

“I’m okay, exhausted but okay. My family was located yesterday, they’re being flown here. They should be here tomorrow.” Shiro said.

Lance smiled, “Good. You deserve to be happy.” Lance said quietly.

Shiro stared, such a simple statement and yet it felt profound, Lance saying it like it was a fact. Some tears came to Shiro’s eyes. At some point Lance’s fingers had grasped Shiro’s instead of the other way around, not tightly and just barely, but Lance squeezed.

“I know about Adam. I’m sorry.” Lance said, looking at the ceiling still as if knowing that Shiro needed some privacy.

It took a moment for Shiro to say anything.

“How?” Shiro’s voice came out choked, and he noticed tears already streaming down his face. He hated crying.

Lance shrugged.

“You were my hero, I knew a lot about you. I admired you, not only were you one of the youngest pilots to come out of the Garrison but a high ranking, openly gay officer? That was incredibly brave. Not a lot of people knew that you and Adam were together but, Adam was one of my instructors, he taught me a lot, he mentioned you off hand once… he looked very happy. I guess I sort of put two and two together.” Lance stated, “I don’t know what happened before you left for Kerberos. I don’t know what it feels like to lose someone that close to you, so I can’t say I know what you’re going through. But know that you have a lot of people who love you, and care for you. You shouldn’t feel guilty. I didn’t know Adam well... but I think he wouldn’t want you to grieve too long, I think he’d want you to be happy, Shiro.” Lance said quietly. “It’s not your fault.” He whispered.

Shiro was now bent over their clasped hands, Lance squeezing his fingers gently. Shiro’s eyes full of tears that kept streaming down his face, low sobs escaping from his mouth before he could stop them. Lance’s fingers squeezing a steady rhythm into his palm.

“It may take awhile… but I believe you can… you deserve to be happy.” Lance said, and as Shiro looked up he met Lance’s unfocused gaze who smiled gently at him looking tired and worn.

The rest of his visit felt a lot like a therapy session. But eventually Shiro stopped crying, Lance fell into peaceful sleep and Shiro left, his chest feeling a bit lighter than before.

“Cerebral Edema?” Hunk asked, his voice shaking a little bit.

Hunk, Pidge, Shiro and Keith were gathered in Hunk’s room. Pidge being wheeled into it, even though she insisted it wasn’t necessary. Hunk’s room was right next to her’s but nevertheless she was forcibly dropped off by Matt who instructed Shiro to keep an eye on her.

Shiro nodded, “They’re performing surgery tomorrow, to relieve the pressure, part of his skull will be removed and the swelling will eventually go down and then they can put it back. The doctor’s are confident of his recovery, it’ll just take him a bit longer to heal.” Shiro said quietly.

Hunk nodded but seemed to swallow thickly, small tears on the edges of his eyes. Pidge had turned pale in her wheelchair, looking very young. Keith was crossarmed in the corner, mouth in a thin line, staring at the floor.

“How did it happen?” Keith asked quietly. Everyone in the room looking at Shiro.

“The doctors believe that he had a concussion from when we lost communication with him. Apparently according to Veronica, the two of them were attacked on the way to the base and thrown from their vehicle, they both fell unconscious. The doctors believe that his concussion became worse when the lions fell back to Earth.” Shiro said, “I didn’t tell any of you this before, I didn’t want to scare you... but Lance was the only one who was unresponsive when we pulled him from his lion. The rest of you we a bit out of it but you were conscious.” Shiro sighed.

Keith nodded gravely.

“How is he now?” Pidge asked, her fingers turn white against her chair.

“He’s on some pretty heavy drugs, to keep down the swelling, so he’s a bit out of it. But we talked for a bit before he fell asleep, he was pretty coherent. A little nervous about his surgery which is understandable.” Shiro said.

Obviously he didn’t mention how he had sobbed into Lance’s hands just hours before.

Keith stood.

“I think I’ll go sit with him for awhile.” He stated.

“Wait! I’m coming too!” Hunk said, making to sit up.

“Same.” Pidge said, getting ready to wheel her way out.

“Woah. You two need to rest.” Shiro said gently.

Both Hunk and Pidge made to protest before Shiro cut them off.

“No buts. Rest today so you can be a bit better tomorrow, Lance is going to need both of you after his surgery, alright?” Shiro said, putting a soft hand on Pidge’s shoulder.

The two of them considered and grudgingly agreed, Shiro escorting Pidge back to her room. Keith made his way to Lance’s room, but paused outside the door. Shiro noticed, and put a hand on Keith’s shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” Shiro asked quietly.

Keith sighed, “Not really sure Lance will want to see me.” He admitted, hand inches away from the door. “I’ve been such a jerk to him lately, and we haven’t really had the time to fix it.” Keith said.

Shiro sighed, “This is a pretty good way to start. Plus I’m sure Lance doesn’t see it that way.” Shiro said.

“But how do you know?” Keith asked quietly, turning to look at him.

“Cause Lance isn’t that kind of guy.” Shiro said with a soft smile.

It took Keith a moment to smile back, but he did. His hand pressed on the door and it opened with a small swish.

Lance was still in the same position as he was before and appeared to still be asleep. Keith hesitated before walking into the room, walking quietly to the chair that Shiro had occupied just hours before. Keith took in Lance, his eyebrows crinkling in concern as he sat down, placing his clasped hands on the bed. He looked at the monitors, and the IVs his face stern.

Shiro took another chair and sat it next to Keith, the noise despite Shiro’s best efforts to make it quiet, seemed to wake Lance who stirred.

“Hey.” Keith said gently.

Lance blinked and looked around the room, as if he wasn’t entirely sure where the sound was coming from but eventually his eyes landed on the two of them and he smiled.

“Hey, Keith… Shiro.” Lance said softly, his voice still sounding far off.

“How are you feeling buddy?” Keith said, smiling gently. It honestly surprised Shiro how gentle he was being. But he had forgotten that Keith had matured greatly in the last year. But maturity wasn’t something that happened in a year or even several, it was a constant learning experience. Keith was still a hothead, still let his emotions get the better of him on occasion. But in this moment he seemed softer.

“Everyone keeps asking me that.” Lance said, grumbling, “For the last time I feel okay.” He huffed.

Keith chuckled.

“Sorry, but everyone wants to know how you’re doing, we’re all worried about you man.” Keith said genuinely.

Lance huffed out a breath and closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again.

“Well you shouldn’t be, I’m fine. These drugs they gave me kept me from any pain so I feel like I’m floating, also I’m a little dizzy, but someone told me that was normal.” Lance said, “Plus let’s be real no one is worrying about me, you guys should be worrying about yourselves or your families or whatever… I’m fine.” Lance said, the last part coming out in a hurt and grumpy tone, Lance practically pouting as he said it.

Keith looked at Shiro with eyes a bit wider than before and then looked back at Lance, looking concerned, his eyebrows crinkled together.

“Of course we worry about you Lance, why would you think otherwise?” Keith asked quietly.

“I don’t know.” Lance shrugged, seeming equally confused, eyebrows knitting together, “I just do okay? I’ve been lonely… the past few months, since you left with the Blade. It sucked.” Lance said, pouting even more, some small tears at the corner of his eye. He looked away from the two of them quickly, but the action seemed to make him dizzy and he closed his eyes causing the tears to slide down his cheek. He opted instead to stare out the window, seeming to ignore them.

Keith and Shiro didn’t interrupt, but Shiro felt his own stomach sink through the floor.

“I mean Hunk and Pidge are closer than ever. Whenever I hangout with them they’re always talking about stuff that goes way over my head. Making fun of me, you know, whatever… and Allura and I have become closer but… I don’t know, I’ve gotten over the fact that she doesn’t like me, which is fine but now she’s said some really nice things to me and now I’m... confused. Keith I missed you so much, we were really becoming friends and then you just… left like that. And Shiro, well that wasn’t really you was it? But you were an absolute jerk to me like all the time. Like I know it wasn’t you but he had your face so it’s kind of hard to... I had no one to talk to. It’s been… rough.” Lance sighed, closing his eyes, the conversation seeming to drain him, “I mean, I feel a bit better cause I have my family but I… still feel pretty lonely. Like I’m always gonna on the outside or something.” Lance trailed off, seeming to close himself off as if he thought he may have said too much.

Keith and Shiro looked at Lance in utter shock and silence blossomed between them for several moments.

“When did you start feeling this way?” Shiro asked quietly.

Lance shook his head, more tears falling down his face.

“Since the beginning? I don’t know! But it got worse once Keith left…” Lance said his voice quivering, “Ugh. this is so stupid, stupid drugs, stupid head injury. I’m the dumb one after all, I shouldn’t have said anything! Forget it. It’s the drugs talking forget I said anything!” Lance said, roughly wiping his eyes with the hand that was not strapped with IVs.

Something seemed to dawn on Keith, because he grabbed Lance’s hand from his face and held firm.

“You’re not dumb. You’re smart and talented, that space guy was the dumb one for not seeing all the stuff you can do. I’m sorry I’ve been such a complete jerk to you. When you said that stuff about me being the future, I was caught completely off guard and I just said the first this to come out of my mouth. It was stupid and I didn’t realize how much it would hurt you.” Keith said sincerely, Lance sniffling and his eyes red, but he looked at Keith.

“That’s no excuse though. I need to be better, I’m sorry. You’re my family, Lance. I’m sorry, I know I messed up but I’m a bit new… at the whole family thing.” Keith said.

Somehow most of this conversation was going over Shiro’s head, but a small chuckle came from Lance, it was a little wet with tears but the smile was genuine.

“Yeah, you’re not really good at this.” Lance said weakly.

Keith smiled, “I know.”

“I’m a bit scared for my surgery tomorrow.” Lance admitted quietly.

“I’m sure, it’s scary. But were all going to be there when you wake up, okay? You’re family too.” Keith said, squeezing Lance’s hand.

“My Earth family and my space family.” Lance said.

“Yeah.” Keith agreed.

They talked a bit more, about everything and about nothing. Lance slowly fell asleep exhaustion seemed to take him. His hand cradled in Keith’s and the two of them stayed that way for a long time. Shiro watched Lance as he slowly fell into a deep sleep, his hand on Lance’s knee. For the first time in a long time Shiro felt that everything would be okay.

#lance #shiro #adam #keith #hunk #pidge #matt #klance #voltron #vld spoilers #vld #voltron fanfic #voltron season 7 #voltron season 8 #shance

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c-is-for-circinate · 6 years ago

Text

5 headcanons re: the end of Voltron Season 7

(with many thanks to @mzminola for listening to me ramble and also being at least half the inspiration for #5)

Colleen Holt and the entire McClain family sans Veronica surge off the Atlas and into their childrens’ hospital rooms the moment those things are possible, Romelle hot on their heels to check on Allura. Shiro has an enormous spaceship to captain, and Sam has to keep it working, and Coran has to pilot it and Veronica has to run it and they still tear off to see the paladins as soon as they possibly can.

It takes several hours before anyone manages to get in contact with Hunk’s parents, mostly because 90% of the people who would normally realize it’s high priority are preoccupied with the entire paladin team or unconscious themselves. In the end it’s Griffin and Veronica who fetch them and bring them to their son’s bedside, shaking and in tears.

It was a bad crash after a bad explosion after a string of bad battles, drained quintessence, head injuries. One or two of the paladins might rouse just a bit then fall back unconscious, but nearly all of them need surgery, they all have broken bones and internal damage, none of them are going to be going anywhere any time soon. None of them can sustain consciousness for more than a minute. Some of them haven’t opened their eyes at all.

Colleen’s known the McClains for almost a year now, bonded with them over their missing starfaring children, offered to babysit and helped tutor some of their kids at the Garrison, so when Sam has to be at the ship and Colleen needs to stand up and walk somewhere, anywhere, get a cup of coffee just for ten minutes, one of them offers to sit with Pidge. She’s unconscious and likely to stay that way for a while, but just in case. Just in case.

It takes a little bit longer for someone to think about it and extend the offer to the Garretts, but they’re drawn into the family almost immediately. Lance and Hunk’s families have never met before, but they both remember their respective sons’ stories from what seems like a thousand years ago. They both know what happened in that last battle. They’re family, now, and that’s all there is to it.

Everyone is so exhausted, so war-weary and drained, that it’s another half-day or so before they really process the fact that in a hallway with five occupied hospital rooms, they’re only coming and going between three. They’ve all seen Shiro spending time in all five Paladin rooms, and Coran coming and going from Allura’s when he can, but they’re so desperately needed on the Atlas right now that they can’t stay any more than Sam can. Romelle hasn’t left Allura’s bedside in two days. Some of the MFE pilots have visited, but Colleen and the McClains remember, now that they spend more than half a second thinking about it: Keith doesn’t have any family on the planet that isn’t captaining the Atlas or unconscious in a hospital bed right now. There’s a large space wolf sleeping at the foot of his bed. That does not, in Lance’s mother’s opinion, count.

Nobody even discusses it when the add Allura and Keith into the rotation. It’s family. The paladins are each others’ family, to some degree or another that their parents don’t even entirely understand, so this is all family now.

Hunk’s mom finds her way down to the hospital kitchen and brings back actual cooked food for all of them an hour later. Romelle stands up and almost falls over, but gets to take a shower and change her clothes for the first time in days. Lance’s niece and nephew make half-hourly rounds of all five rooms, checking on all the adults and cheerfully asking if anyone needs a bathroom break, or running for any specific blood family if one of the paladins has woken up for a few minutes. Everyone swaps out, relieving one another on constant round-the-clock watch.

None of these kids are going to wake up alone.

It’s several days before anyone manages to get word to rebel forces or Blade of Marmora agents about the state of the Earth. Krolia and Kolivan show up just over a week after the final battle with Sendak and the horrific robeast, disembarking from their ship on a packed-dirt airstrip just outside the wreck of the Garrison and scaring dozens of nearby Earth forces into grabbing for weapons.

Shiro is there to greet them. Kolivan shakes his hand. Krolia grabs him by the shoulder and pulls him in for a hug. Three people almost shoot her before Iverson glares them into holstering their weapons.

They have intelligence, more information about the state of the universe than any allies they’ve managed to contact via deep-space radio transmissions yet, which Kolivan promises to share once they’ve been to the hospital. Krolia is somewhat single-minded, herself.

Shiro brings them to the hospital himself--it seems prudent, given the general attitude towards Galra in these parts--and nearly scares Lance’s sister-in-law Marta half to death. She jumps out of the chair next to the bed, eyes darting wildly around, frozen between jumping behind the hospital bed to take shelter or in front of it to shield its unconscious occupant with her body, settling on Shiro with a look of terror.

Kosmo teleports off the foot of Keith’s bed rather than disturbing the covers by moving around for a leap. He pushes up against Krolia’s legs affectionately while Shiro rubs the back of his neck with a slightly embarrased smile.

“Marta, hey,” he says. Probably he should have explained this earlier to somebody? Hadn’t someone mentioned? “This is Keith’s mom Krolia, and Kolivan, a...family friend. They’re with the Blade of Marmora. The good guys,” he adds, just in case that doesn’t cut it.

“What’s his status?” Krolia asks, turning her attention instantly to her son and dismissing Marta almost entirely. “Has he woken up at all?”

All of the paladins have woken up at least once or twice, though Keith hasn’t managed to stay that way more than a minute. He had a bad reaction to some anaesthetics from surgery. So had Pidge, and nobody had said anything about it besides cursing a lot about too-old medicines and drug allergies that nobody found out about until the worst possible moment. Of course, so had Princess Allura, and Coran had thrown a fit and also thrown a bedpan when he found out what the doctors had given her. Marta slips out of the room to let Shiro do the explaining on that before the two enormous Galra get angry over anybody’s treatment of their...son? Adopted son? She doesn’t know and doesn’t know if she wants to.

Half her family is in Hunk’s room with both his parents--Hunk is actually awake, sitting propped halfway up in bed and more coherent than most of the paladins have been in days, for all his eyelids are starting to droop shut. Marta darts in and tugs both of her kids with her from the hall.

“Shiro is here,” she reports to the room at large. “He brought someone he said was Keith’s mother.”

“Oh hey, Krolia’s here?” Hunk asks, and then yawns hugely. “That’s great. Keith’ll be glad. I’m glad. Tell her,” and he yawns again, “tell her to come say hi next time I’m awake, if she can pull herself away. It’ll be good to see her.”

Hunk’s eyes are falling closed, and his mother is patting his hand as he falls back asleep, and Marta’s mother-in-law is about to usher them all back out into the corridor probably back towards Lance’s room, but Marta can’t. “She’s a Galra!” Marta hisses.

“Well yeah,” Hunk mumbles, eyes totally closed now. “That’s where Keith gets it. We said Keith was half Galra, right? Someone should’ve said that. We must’ve said that. I bet Shiro told the doctors. Or Coran. They remember stuff like that...”

And then he’s asleep, and everybody in the room is gaping, and that’s the end of that.

Nobody at the hospital actually knows what the hell to do with Krolia.

All of the other paladins seem happy to hear that she’s around, as they drag themselves towards more time spent awake than asleep, but she doesn’t actually leave Keith’s room to see any of them. As far as anyone can tell, she doesn’t leave Keith’s room at all. Nobody has seen the chair by his bedside empty even once since she’s been here, including the doctors and nurses. Marco swears she must get up to use the bathroom sometime, but nobody’s witnessed it happen, and if it does, it’s probably while that other Galra, the incredibly tall, scarred, stern one is standing there at the doorway like some sort of terrifying sentry.

Still. Still. This is family, they all decided that a week ago, and if Pidge and Keith and Lance are all swearing in between yawns that Keith and by extension Krolia are family...well. They all made it through a hostile alien occupation intact. They can face two Galra.

Colleen elects herself, then, to be the one to walk into Keith’s room and start the conversation. She’s hard as nails anymore, after so many years without her children, so many years living in the middle of a war. She’s got this.

“Colleen Holt,” she introduces herself. Krolia’s moved the chairs around in the room for some reason, sitting now directly in front of the door. There’s a knife laying across her lap. Something is glowing purple on the hilt. “I’m Katie’s--Pidge’s mother.”

“Your daughter is a quick thinker,” Krolia says, proving that she’s spent at least five seconds in Pidge’s company at some point. “Clever at infiltration, quick on her feet in a fight, and a good pilot. You should be proud.”

“I--I am,” Colleen says, somehow already off-balance here. “We are. Thank you.”

Krolia nods once, and doesn’t say anything else. Colleen blinks. Waits. Krolia doesn’t say anything else.

"We’ve all been taking turns looking in on Keith,” she tries again. “There are enough of us here that if you wanted to stretch your legs, you wouldn’t be leaving him alone.”

“I’ve stayed longer in worse posts than this,” Krolia says. There’s something unreadable in her expression, something Colleen thinks she might recognize, even behind the purple skin and the ramrod-stiff posture and the wickedly sharp knife. She’d been prepared to sit next to Katie’s bed for as long as it took, too, after all.

But she hadn’t had to. It had meant so much to be able to share some of that burden with somebody else. She can do that again.

“I do understand,” Colleen says. “He saved all our children’s lives, you know. They consider him family. We consider him family. It’s not an imposition, and we wouldn’t leave him alone.”

Right now, Hunk’s father is reading technical manuals at Katie’s bedside, just in case she wakes up and wants something to listen to while Colleen is here. Coran, on a brief visit from the Garrison base, is keeping watch in Hunk’s room while Veronica has some sort of conversation with Allura. Colleen’s had the chance to spend time with them all, both before and after that horrible battle. It is family now, one way or another. She lost two children and got back five, for all she’s still waiting on another radio transmission from the sixth.

Krolia just looks at her, eyes yellow and violet and piercing. “Thank you,” she says eventually. “I’d prefer to let Kolivan or Shiro relieve me. No offense intended, but I suspect they’re somewhat more equipped to deal with any assassination attempts.”

“Assassination attempts?” Colleen is flabbergasted. Krolia doesn’t blink.

“The paladins of Voltron have returned after three decaphoebs and taken out an entire Galra faction nearly overnight,” she says. “The entire political balance of the four closest galaxies has shifted. They’re the most famous weapon in the universe, and they’re vulnerable. I’ll leave his side when he can defend himself again.”

“I...I understand,” Colleen murmurs. She doesn’t stay.

It rips through the collective team of families like wildfire--there’s an assassination risk? Even Romelle seems to believe it, eyes going wide and frightened.

“Highly unlikely,” Allura presents her opinion, though she hasn’t quite graduated to lifting more than her head off the pillow yet. “We’re remarkably difficult to kill.”

“No, hey, hey, it’s totally going to be okay,” Hunk says. “Krolia’s just...being Krolia. Don’t worry.”

“Ugh, those two are exactly the same,” Lance sighs. “It’s fine. We’re fine.”

It sounds too much like teenage boys who think they’re invincible, teenagers who don’t know what it was like to see them limp and blood-streaked and pale for so many days. Teenagers who’ve cheated death too many times to understand how quickly it could come for them.

“Why don’t you ask Shiro how likely he thinks an assassination attempt is?” Katie grumbles. “Or no, wait, don’t, if he freaks out and gets all overprotective it’ll distract him even more from the rebuilding efforts. Ask Kolivan how likely he thinks an attempt actually is. Or even ask Krolia herself.”

Three or four of them go, this time: Colleen, and Hunk’s father, and Lance’s mother, who grabs a visiting Veronica from the hall on her way and drags them along. Krolia’s shifted slightly--one hand stroking Keith’s hair, the other on the knife still in her lap, thumb moving over the hilt just as gently.

"Are our children in danger?” Sonia McClain barrels right ahead, swift and unstoppable. Krolia looks up at them and doesn’t blink.

“It’s possible,” she says. “That’s why there are Earth security forces around and inside this building, right?”

All three parents exchange looks. Veronica says, “Those are a precaution mostly intended to make the population of a planet that just threw off its Galra conquerors feel safer. Do you think it’s likely that our family members are in danger from an assassination threat?”

“Likely? No, of course not,” Krolia says, though she doesn’t move either hand, not from her son’s head and not from that knife. “But nothing these paladins have done is likely.”

“I know they’re just children,” Colleen tries. “But--”

Krolia does move, then, just a raising of eyebrows and laser-gaze fixed on Colleen specifically. “They’re not children,” she says. “My son is no longer a child. They’ve toppled empires. Keith has killed Galra warlords and piloted suicide missions and liberated entire galaxies, all without a mother watching his every step. It’s a reason to be proud of all of them. But I have no intention of leaving this room until he can pick up this knife and fight with it again himself.”

Veronica’s the one who pushes them all out of the room and back down the hall. They kick Luis and the kids out of Lance’s room for some privacy and the hopes of a second opinion, maybe, since Lance seems less groggy than he has in days.

“Maybe we can ask Commander Shirogane for more guards?” Hunk’s dad suggests, wary, darting glances out at the corridor again. Lance groans.

“Is Krolia still being all Blade-of-Marmora paranoid?” he asks. “She’s spent like fifteen decaphoebes as a spy in deep cover embedded in Galra territory, you can’t trust her judgment about normal stuff.”

“What about this is normal, mijo?” his mother demands. “We need to keep you safe!”

Which is where it clicks, in Veronica’s head. “Mama,” she says, “what did you do when Lance went missing?”

“I--we looked, you know we did, we looked--”

“You adopted every stray cat in Cárdenas just to have something to do,” Veronica interrupts. “Even though we all knew it wouldn’t help anything, and Papa said we should let you because it gave you something to focus on.”

“Really?” Lance asks, looking all soft and touched. “Every stray cat?”

“That’s not the point,” their mother hastily moves on. “The point is--”

“No, no, that’s totally the point.” Lance shifts in bed, stiffly, but pushing himself up a little more to look them all straight on. “I told you, Krolia’s just like Keith. Neither of them know how to express emotion except through threats of violence or like, maybe hugging back if someone hugs them first. And I think Keith actually had an actual conversation with Hunk about feelings that once, but that’s like, years of personal growth.”

“She doesn’t think we’re wrong and inadequate to hold off an actual credible assassination threat,” Veronica agrees. “She’s being a mom.”

“Exactly,” Lance says. “She’s just scared and overcompensating because her kid almost died like six times in pitched battle, and she wasn’t here and she couldn’t do anything about it.” He looks around the room, at three other parents whose kids almost died like six times in pitched battle last week. “Um.”

“...Well,” Hunk’s dad says, a little bit of forced cheer and a lot of determination. “We can help her find something more useful to do.”

An hour later, they bring Krolia a tray--some of Hunk’s mom’s special home-made hospital kitchen concoctions, with more flavor and a thousand times more care than the hospital MRE rations everyone else is getting--and Romelle and Hunk’s dad sit with her while she eats it. The next day, she actually lets Kolivan take over guard duty for a whole hour while she walks the hospital corridor, making suggestions for security patrols and incidentally checking in on all the other paladins. They’re all delighted to see her. Lance actually gets her to smile.

She’s definitely a weird addition to their family, but if there’s one thing any of them can understand, it’s fear for their children. And besides, Princess Allura’s apparently-talking mice are weirder.

The paladins are more or less awake well before they’re allowed to actually leave their beds. The somewhat humiliating assisted trips to the bathroom (albeit still an improvement--with all the things Allura wanted to learn about Earth, ‘what is a bedpan?’ had NOT been on the list) are a start, but not particularly fulfilling for five young intergalactic defenders used to running around between entire solar systems who now can’t even move room to room.

Besides which, the paladins have all now seen and met each others’ parents and families, have all seen Shiro a dozen times, looking exhausted and relieved and beaming at them, but haven’t been able to see each other. It can’t stand.

The very first thing any of them does as soon as they’re allowed out into the hall, then, is visit the other paladins. Allura is first (and if anyone has any commentary about the fact that she starts with Lance’s room even though Hunk’s is right across the hall from hers, they don’t say it out loud to her face), but the others all start joining in, one by one. Hunk and his broken leg need a wheelchair or a pair of crutches, and Pidge managed to wrench a knee trying to struggle out of the Green Lion’s cockpit upside down and half-conscious, so she needs crutches or a mobile human support, but they’re all moving soon.

Without any need for discussion, they instantly take to congregating in each others’ hospital rooms as soon as they can. Usually this means piling into Keith’s room, since he took the worst head injury, had the worst reaction to human medicine, and is still sleeping about fourteen hours out of every day, but he’s also stubborn and pushy and hikes himself all the way across the hall to fall down on the edge of Pidge’s bed whenever he can.

The hospital rooms aren’t large and they get crowded fast, but the paladins are good at squishing. Hospital beds aren’t intended to hold five people at once, and definitely not five people and a space wolf (or six people, including a newly-minted starship commander that time Hunk and Lance grab Shiro and drag him down on top of them all), but eh. They manage. Crammed together is better than being alone.

Of course, once the paladins are up and awake and seeing each other again, the whole tone of their quiet, worried hospital hallway changes. Their parents might have been tense and nervous for days, but the paladins are nothing but smiles. They won. Their hardest battles maybe ever, and their connection to their lions, to each other, is deeper than it’s ever been, and they’re here on Earth with everyone they love, and Earth is safe. War wounds or not--and they’ve all had that before--this is the best.

Suddenly instead of quiet and dire, the whole wing seems sunny and full of laughter. Matt shows up with a ponytail and hugs for everyone. Fully a dozen people crowd into any hospital room where the paladins are piling up, ready to gather around and tell stories.

It’s pretty obvious that after that last battle, everybody’s parents are a little bit terrified to think about what the paladins went through out in space, but it’s not like space was that bad. There were tons of cool parts, amazing parts, fun parts.

“Oh hey, how about the story of how we got Kaltenecker?” Hunk suggests. “And we got chased by a mall cop at an intergalactic space mall that Coran thought was a pirate swap moon?”

“Didn’t you almost get kidnapped on that trip?” Allura laughs, because it is an easy fun story to tease each other over, after all.

“I wasn’t kidnapped, I was briefly in indentured servitude as payment for my dine-and-dashing ways to a man named Vrepit Sal whose life and business model I forever changed for the better,” Hunk says. “Honestly, the biggest risk the whole time was that everyone would come looking for me at the end of the varga and have to break me out from the food stall at a mall food court and Keith would get in trouble for causing a scene.”

“Me cause a scene? Pidge and Lance bought a cow.”

“Hey hey hey, Kaltenecker was free with purchase. And we’re not the one who attracted that mall cop’s attention.”

“To be fair, I’m pretty sure that was Coran’s space pirate disguises...”

The space mall story really is funny, and innocuous, and has the whole room laughing with the exception of one or two off moments, like when someone asks why they were trying to find an Unilu swap moon to begin with or what Shiro was doing the whole time. It spins off into a flurry of tales about the Voltron Show that have half the paladins blushing and Keith smirking until Allura reaches across two other paladins to punch him lightly in his uninjured shoulder--“I had to be you for that show, you know, and it wasn’t easy!”--with only a brief tangent into how Coran had been possessed by an alien brainworm the entire time, but oh well.

After that there are more stories: that time they sort of helped run the entire Galra Empire for five minutes. Diplomatic incidents or near-incidents caused by Lance flirting with the wrong alien or any one of the others not realizing the wrong alien was flirting with them. Embarrassing flying and training mistakes. That time Hunk accidentally got everyone in the castle but Keith high on some alien seasoning that apparently reacts really oddly with human biology. All of the many times one of their potentially-allied planets assumed some subset of paladins were dating each other and had to either be coaxed along or disabused of the notion before they started talking to the rest of the Voltron Coalition and entire galaxies got confused. Typical space stuff.

It takes a while for the paladins to notice which parts their families have started to wince at. A funny story, to the paladins, either involves a lot of effort to avoid very low-stakes danger (”no, no, nobody on that planet could actually have killed us, we’d just have had to leave kinda quickly and it would’ve been embarrassing”), or very high-stakes danger that was easily avoided through weird alien rituals or personal humiliation (”well okay yeah they probably would have interrogated and tortured us, but it was never going to happen because Pidge was still free and she got us loose with a plan involving the Macarena, how is that not hilarious?”).

It’s just...after almost dying, actually almost dying, in pain and fear and desperation so many times, certain kinds of danger aren’t scary any more. Especially not in retrospect, not this long later, when they’re safe and warm and all the pain is from injuries that are treated and recovering and going to get better.

The stories just...they fray around the edges, is the problem, the places where the funny ends and the serious would begin if any of them were talking about serious right now. That time Hunk shouted at a pair of Galra officers about the true meaning of loyalty and vrepit sa until they saluted and fell into line like shamefaced cadets is hilarious, except for the solar storms that could have killed them all, except for the thousands of years of Galra culture of victory-or-death, the thousands of Galra soldiers every paladin in the room has helped to kill in battle, blowing up cruisers just like the ones they briefly helped protect. Not knowing, or knowing, sometimes, which might be even worse, just how many of the people they’re talking about are dead right now.

Except their parents are still wincing at all the wrong points, not the places where one of the paladins trails off and realizes that they’re talking shit about someone who’s probably dead. No, they get all tense and unhappy every time someone blithely dismisses the possibility of death or defeat or capture, and seriously, capture by the Damoreans is nothing, was nothing, it only even happened because Allura turned out to be allergic to half their planet and couldn’t stop sneezing the whole time, it was fine, it’s funny--

“What about that time we all played Monsters and Mana?” Hunk tries, a little desperately.

“Yeah, and Shiro kept wanting to be a--” Lance starts, and then cuts off mid-sentence.

“What’s Monsters and Mana?” his brother prompts. Lance bites his lip and leans his head back against Hunk’s side, and doesn’t answer.

“What did he want to play as?” Keith asks, like it’s just the five of them and nobody else in the room really matters after all.

“A paladin,” Allura says. She’s tucked in between Lance and Keith, all of them piled together like kittens on one bed, Hunk behind them all leaning against the headboard and Pidge sprawled out over everyone’s legs, and they were all smiling, a moment ago, even most of their families for the moment. “He died and recreated a character at least three times, but he only ever wanted to be a paladin.”

They can all hear Allura take a deep breath, because her lungs are still recovering from the amount of water she breathed in after Blue crash-landed and she wheezes, just a little. They’re cuddled in close enough that they don’t have to hear Keith’s to feel it.

“Maybe that’s enough space stories for right now,” Pidge says. “I’m getting kind of tired.”

“That’s fine, everybody out,” Lance’s mama directs, and suddenly half a dozen people are standing up and crowding around the bed ready to help various paladins back to various rooms. Pidge presses back into the curl of bodies more tightly.

“I can sleep here,” she says. “If--”

“Stay,” Keith says, sounding like the Black Paladin giving orders and not like he’s pleading at all. “There’s space. If you want to.”

“I want to, if we’re welcome,” Allura counters. Lance tucks an arm closer around her shoulders.

“We’re not going anywhere,” Hunk confirms.

Everyone in the Holt family, Colleen included, can quote the full script from all fifteen Star Wars movies: the original trilogy (”because it’s awesome, duh, and a total classic”), the prequel trilogy (”it’s not actually that bad, and parts of it really hold up over time!”), the sequel trilogy (”they took several interesting directions--tracing the changes in Star Wars movies really illustrates a lot about shifting social fears and the preoccupations of the day”), the various side movies (”Rogue One is better than Solo and you know it, Dad, come on,”) and even, Shiro learned once on a long, cold day in space, something called the Star Wars Holiday Special (”Look, Katie found a copy online, learning it was self defense, it meant I could strike first.”)

Shiro was always more of a Star Trek fan: boldly going, seeking out and exploring, humanity guiding the whole galaxy forth into an era of peace. The bridge of the Atlas feels like coming home, and some of it’s the low, sub-audible hum of Altean technology resonating with his arm and the synapses in the back of his brain, but some of it is far-off distant memories daydreaming of the Starship Enterprise. He lets himself have that.

When Matt lands, after he clings to his mother and hugs his father and visits Pidge in the hospital room she’s very steadily working her way out of, Shiro gets a chance to see him in person. Matt pulls him into a hug without hesitation, which isn’t much like the high-strung and slightly nervous junior scientist Shiro remembers from Kerberos, but it’s been a lot of years since then. The distant, hazy Black Lion memories of his clone’s life suggest that this body’s hugged Matt before, even without him in it. Shiro’s happy to refresh the experience.

They hadn’t known each other well, before Kerberos: Shiro had been close with Sam Holt for a couple of years, but Matt was younger than him by a year or two, in a completely different track at the Garrison, focused on xenobiology and interstellar communications while Shiro just wanted to fly. They’d been polite coworkers and crewmates right up until they found themselves stuck in a small space shuttle for what all three of them assumed was a six-month mission with no human contact besides the ground crew on the other end of their coms, and learned to be family on the fly. He’d never met Katie Holt before the Kerberos takeoff, but he heard plenty about Sam’s daughter and Matt’s little sister on that three-month flight towards the fate none of them were expecting.

And Shiro had heard about Galaxy Quest.

“I can’t believe you’re a classic Star Trek fan and you’ve never seen Galaxy Quest,” Matt said about sixteen times over the trip. “Dad, how have you let this happen?”

“Must’ve slipped my mind between missions,” Sam chuckled, clasping one fatherly hand over Shiro’s shoulder. Shiro hadn’t had a parent in a long time, but Sam...Sam Holt came close. “You can see to it when we get back to Earth.”

“We’ll all see to it,” Matt grumbled. “By Grapthar’s Hammer, I’ll see it done.”

By the time they’d hit Kerberos, Shiro suspected he could have recited the plot and enough actual quotes from Galaxy Quest to convince almost any fan he’d seen it several dozen times, as Matt apparently had. There wasn’t that much to talk about in space, and they’d mutually vetoed ‘discussing romantic entanglements’ by day three. Still, Matt and Sam both swore it was an experience he ought to have for himself, and Shiro was honestly looking forward to it. Maybe heading back to Earth, leaving the wide free starfields of black again for maybe the last time, wouldn’t be so rough with Sam and Matt both on his side.

Like a lot of things, he’d forgotten all about it since then. It hadn’t exactly come up much out in the depths of actual space.

“Hey Shiro,” Matt says. “Looks like Pidge and the others are getting out of the hospital soon. What do you say we celebrate with a little movie night?”

It takes Shiro several seconds to realize what Matt’s holding in one hand, to remember those long-ago conversations, to put together what he’s suggesting. When he does, he laughs. There’s something incredible about the idea, after seeing so many galaxies, of coming back to Earth to watch a movie about fake aliens played by human actors in face putty. Something amazing.

“Sure,” he says. “We’ll invite all the paladins. There’s a lounge on the Atlas we can use.”

There are several lounges on the Atlas--it wasn’t designed to be quite as comfortable as the Castle of Lions, but it’s intended for spending up to months at a time in deep space, so living quarters were a priority--but not, Shiro swiftly discovers, one big enough for what they’re apparently going to need.

All five of the paladins are predictably enthusiastic--Hunk and Lance to watch anything that looks like home, Allura to discover more human culture, Keith at the prospect of any time spent with the team where he doesn’t have to talk much or admit out loud how much he enjoys being with them, and Pidge at what’s apparently a very specific part of her childhood.

“By Grapthar’s hammer!” she vows, grinning with determination, “you’re not watching that without me.”

It’s great, it’s exactly what Shiro was hoping for. He just hadn’t accounted for quite how many other people that would drag along.

Colleen Holt is a given at a Holt-sponsored movie night, of course, and while Lance’s family seems more willing to give him some breathing room now that he’s walking around on his own, they also aren’t about to be left out of what’s turning into a family event. Hunk’s sister and nieces were just found last week, so nothing is splitting that family up--and Shay and Rax are visiting from the Balmera, “And it would be rude to abandon them just for a movie night, so they can come, too, right?” Hunk asks, as though anyone would say no.

Shiro can’t imagine why most of the Blade of Marmora would find a human parody movie entertaining, though Krolia and Kolivan seem like givens for the invite list, now that there’s an invite list, but he’s not about to turn them down, especially when he realizes the figure lurking a few steps behind Krolia’s shoulder, head down, is Acxa. So it’s a much larger, extended family affair, then--okay, that’s great. The more the merrier.

“Oh,” Matt adds in passing. “My crew’s coming too.”

Shiro swiftly has to revise his mental why would old Earth sci-fi movies ever come up in space? assessment as soon as he realizes that he may have been the first crew member Matt subjected to an endless string of plot summary and quotes from this movie, but he is far from the last. Apparently, he discovers, half the rebel fleet has heard Matt rambling on about Sigourney Weaver and Grapthar’s hammer. Whoever the hell Grapthar is.

“It’s historically significant!” Matt defends. “It’s a loving parody of an entire genre of hopeful speculative fiction developed by humans at the very dawn of our space program with no idea what might be out in the galaxies surrounding us, in which the moviemakers mock the concept that we could reliably predict what we could potentially encounter on other planets while maintaining the same hopeful speculative tone that inspired so many early space explorers in the first place--”

“We know, Matt,” Nyma sighs. Shiro doesn’t ask how many times she’s heard this before. He can guess. “Come on, let’s go find a place big enough to hold everyone.”

At that point, it’s just simple math to realize how many people are going to end up coming. Veronica confirms the MFE pilots before Shiro even thinks to ask, and then he’s not going to leave Iverson or any of the rest of the Atlas crew out, and there are all the refugees, and the new aliens who keep coming to Earth day by day...

It ends up happening on a Friday night. Matt and Pidge manage to rewire a Coalition spaceship to project the holographic image of the movie file on the side of the tallest un-destroyed building still on the Garrison property, and hundreds--no, Shiro realizes, no, it’s thousands of people, sitting on blankets and ledges made out of rubble, wrapped up together, mostly humans but aliens too, dozens of species, and is that Vrepit Sal working with Hunk and his mom to supply salty snacks that nearly resemble popcorn to the whole crowd, everyone gathered up here together--

The Black Lion has been hanging back at the edge of the Garrison airfield with the other lions for days. He lowers his head until his chin touches the ground, and when Shiro looks around in surprise, Keith grins at him, proud and a little wicked, almost like the fifteen-year-old troublemaker he used to be. Shiro helps boost Pidge up onto the Lion’s head, then hauls himself up, reaching a hand down to help Keith, Coran, Romelle, until the core of their whole family is clustered here on and around the Black Lion, all their extended relatives and loved ones rippling out around them into the crowd. Lance and Allura sit on the Black Lion’s nose, not quite touching, and Hunk and his broken leg stay ten feet lower down sitting on his paw, one arm around Shay’s shoulders, and Krolia and Kolivan are somewhere nearby half-invisible in the shadows, and Matt spots them from below and waves determinedly until Kosmo teleports down and then zaps him up to the top of the head with the rest of them.

“I’m not letting you watch this without me,” he says with a grin. “Come on, share the not-popcorn.”

Halfway through the movie Shiro hears Shay ask quietly, “These are the stories that people of Earth tell each other of the stars?”

“Well...yeah, kind of like this,” Hunk tells her. “I mean, not all of it, there’s lots of different stories, but...do you like it?”

“I think that if these are your stories, it is no wonder that your planet produced the great Paladins of Voltron who would face down the very Galra Empire to save us all,” Shay says, and it’s nowhere near dark enough for Shiro to miss the bright scarlet of Hunk’s face at that.

Allura laughs, and it coincides with another joke on screen and the laughter of the crowd, but that’s not what’s funny and Shiro knows it. “She’s right,” Allura says, loud enough for everyone on the Black Lion to hear it. “This film says a great deal about humans that I’ve already learned.”

Shiro’s not entirely sure how he feels about the whole of humanity getting compared to a comedy sci-fi movie, and Keith looks wry and resigned, but he glances to his left and Pidge and Matt are both smiling at him, proud and sure.

“Never give up,” says Matt.

“Never surrender,” Pidge finishes, and they fistbump like they’ve never been apart, like all of this, everybody here as they are now, triumphant and bruised and mourning and alive and ready, is exactly where they were all of them always meant to be.

Movie night turns into a biweekly Garrison tradition, after that.

#voltron #vld #C writes stuff #apparently I go here now #what can you do I've got feelings #season 7 was good fight me

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acquisitive-adventurers · 6 years ago

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How did Singlar lose his wife? Did he feel he lost her through his own negligence or ineptitude, or does he blame someone else for her death? Has he ever considered looking for a way to bring her back from the dead? Would he ever consider that?

(Thanks for the ask, @calabren-iarian !)

THIS IS LARGELY MY FAVORITE THING TO TRY AND WRITE??? It came out in an rp AGES ago with Singlar’s mun, and he was like (oocly) “what if you were my wife but I thought I’d lost you?” during a really sad part of an rp. It ripped my heart out and it’s been that way forever.

It’s evolved from something akin to screaming into the void to something else less screamy.

Singlar was pretty young as a dwarf – few decades old, probably 60 or so – and he was out exploring with his older brother, Kóri. They were out, being stupid “young” guys, when they came upon a night elf village. They weren’t used to meeting any of the other races beyond dwarves, gnomes, and humans, and the elves were… gorgeous, to say the least. Kóri would joke at Singlar about “staring too long,” but as a young paladin, the starlight that emanated from their eyes was intoxicating.

Though he and his brother left the village after a particularly bad cold snap (it was only like a few days before the weather opened up), Singlar had developed a major crush on the elf that would become his wife. It took maybe ten years before they actually got married, and they stayed that way for almost 80 years (so he’d be roughly 150-160 when she “died”). They’d made a home in the mountain ranges between Mount Hyjal/Felwood/Winterspring, and they were pretty happy.

Emerald Dream portals would open randomly though, and the village they lived in believed they were well defended, so no one left. Singlar left to go visit his brother in Ironforge (for some business) and left Zaha’a alone at their home. When Singlar returned a few weeks later, it was a gory mess: the village was reduced to smoldering ash, fresh corpses of elves and worgen were everywhere, and Singlar couldn’t find his wife anywhere among the survivors. So, he thought she’d perished.

For another 90+ years, he held a hatred for elves and worgen (and anyone that could turn into one tbh). He blamed himself for staying too long in Ironforge, for not taking the first boat and being delayed by a few extra hours, for not bringing his wife along in the first place.

Since there wasn’t anything left of her – possessions, body, even a photo – Singlar was left with nothing of his wife, but her visage haunted him every day for nearly 50 years. He went and drank himself nearly to death, until the kingdoms of men started asking for the other races to help build up their cities. He spent the next few decades working, drinking, sleeping with everyone, and refusing to allow himself to grieve or let go of his anger. He got sick, and sicker, and sickest of all when the orcs invaded Azeroth. He was one of the first to put his skills into the armies for the Alliance, and used it as an excuse to shed blood.

(Even that left him so very hollow inside, and it did not feel good to watch the blood go down the drain after a battle.)

When his commanders realized what he was doing, he was sent to Silithus to keep the supply chains there flowing for the Alliance and keep them as long as possible from the Horde. It was only when he touched down in Stormwind and was given the orders to go did he see Ahilyah for the first (and only) time fully decked out in her commander’s armor – at the time, he didn’t know she was his commander and was pretty awful to her, but she let it slide – as they were both introduced to the other members of their team.

All seven of them left to go to Silithus. Eventually, after battles and literal years spent in the bug-infested cesspool, everyone but Singlar and Ahilyah died or were transferred. They didn’t get any other teammates, and it was just them holding down an entire outpost.

They grew comfortable, enough to drink and sleep in the same room together (more for camaraderie than anything else), and eventually they started sharing their lives. She told him about her explorations and commander school, he told her how it was to grow up in the heart of a mountain; he explained paladin teachings (that he often scoffed at in the same breath of whispering his prayers to the Light), she explained beautiful and terrifying worlds beyond their touch that only a few could (or would) ever see. They were friends.

Between fighting the Horde and the old god worshippers and the bugs, Ahilyah was often given secret missions that they’d go and usually sabotage Horde encampments (”don’t explain anything to me, and I’ll have no questions to ask,” Singlar would tell her), but one time there was a month of nothing. Singlar asked if the war was over, if they’d be released from this Hell and they’d finally go their separate ways; she explained she’d already been given her orders, and had been given plenty of mail about not completing it yet.

When he asked why they hadn’t gone out to do “another get-this, kill-that” mission, she explained it wasn’t that type of mission anymore. It was supposed to have them go outside of the combat zone and kill any and every Horde village nearby. She had twenty-four hours to respond, or she’d be court marshaled, judged by the king and his peers, and executed. (She still didn’t know which part of the kingdom this order came from, but it had an official seal. She had asked the high command for a repeat of the orders, but she never got one – so, she stayed put, mostly because of her morals and also because she didn’t believe it was a real King Varian-stated order.)

They had a screaming match due to misunderstandings until she screamed something in anger – basically “you’re such a stupid dwarf, I can’t believe I put up with you for so many centuries” – and he was like “????what????”

And then they had a very awkward reveal that she was his wife.

He was angry, hurt, confused, and felt like he wanted to throw up. He ended up camping out in the next outpost over, thinking everything over.

Ahilyah never did the mission. At this point the Alliance basically forgot about Silithus as the Legion expac started, King Wrynn dying, and the other Alliance leaders straining under Anduin’s leadership. He came back after fighting on the Broken Shore for a while (she was in Suramar for a time), but they went back to Silithus when the Broken Isles were secure.

Days before the Sargeras skewering of the world, they started to talk about things. Though Anduin’s reign was much different than his father’s, their relationship would never be able to heal. Silithus was going to be released so the people there could refocus elsewhere in the world, but so far it was just a waiting process.

They were on their way out of the zone (near the northern mountain range) when the sword came down. The group they were traveling with were able to get into a nearby cave, but it turned out to be a straight view of the valley; they’d be burned alive if the shockwave didn’t kill them.

And being stupid, Singlar kind of just stood in front of Ahilyah as they curled up in the corner of the cavern while Silithus erupted in flames. In the last few seconds before the flames hit them, he was like, “I wasted years over you.” And she just had to tell him to choose: the anger, or a clear future.

When the shockwave hit, everything exposed to the flames was horribly burned. Chunks of Azerite were thrown into bodies of people, killing some instantly due to the intense high while others were in severe agony. The dwarves and gnomes that sat in the cavern came out completely different, half infused with this rock that deformed their bodies but also gave them immense strengths they hadn’t had before.

Ahilyah ends up with horrible burns/scars across the right side of her body (and flecks on her left). The warrior’s right eye glows like the Azurite does, and parts of her scars sometimes glow if she gets too enraged. She goes into blind rages whenever she loses control of herself, going into a frenzy due to the Azerite in her system.

For Singlar, he’s got these giant rocks (kinda like the rock giants in Deepholm?) sticking out of his back, pulsing every time his heart beats. His eyes turn from an ice blue to brilliant gold, and the veins along his body pulse the same color. He’s got burns along the skin that isn’t infused with Azerite, and the back of his head/neck have diamonds/Azerite crystal hybrids growing out of it.

(The other dwarves and gnomes come out looking similar to Singlar, only with their own molecular type – some have sandstone/Azerite, sapphire/Azerite, etc. Each one’s experiences with the Azerite infusion range wildly to “this sucks” to “what could go wrong?”)

((I want to make an entire post about what gnomes, dwarves, goblins, and (maybe) humans taking baths in this stuff would do to them (being descendants of the Titan constructs and all), since the initial “explosion” can’t really be recreated. So it’ll just add to that layer of “well this might actually suck for us” by being so dependent on Azerite.))

#ask #ask answered #Singlar #Ahilyah #warrior #warrior oc #paladin #paladin oc #dwarf #dwarf oc #worgen #worgen oc #nelf #nelf oc #wow #wow oc #world of warcraft oc #world of warcraft #oc

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sol1056 · 6 years ago

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Your posts on clone Shiro have been really interesting - I hadn't considered why the Black lion would lead Keith to the clone when it knew where the real Shiro was (unless maybe it was thinking that Shiro's spirit needed a new body and hey, that one's close enough!). But also, since Kuron had all of Shiro's memories from the time he first escaped back to Earth thru the end of S2, does that mean Haggar's been spying on them via Shiro's arm from the beginning?

Judging from my inbox and comments on other posts, you’re not the only one asking that question. A few examples:

The saddest thing about Kuron is that he wasn’t even actually bad. ... He is compassionate when there are no witnesses. Haggar yells at him to stop resisting when she possesses him, and his screams of agony make it clear that the process is nonconsensual.

i can’t see any [clone resolution] scenario being handled well. the worst one would probably be if keith (maybe lance) has to kill him … the only thing that could be even worse is if they have the clone commit unambiguous suicide. they can’t do that any justice.

If Kuron had wanted to kill the paladins from the beginning, all he had to do was NOT intervene when they were being destroyed in S4E1. It seems like he was a good guy who got brainwashed into doing evil against his will, so it wasn’t even his fault.

I was really disturbed with what happened to Shiro and clone. Do you think they’ll even address this in the future?

A clone plotline – like a brainwashing/personality implant plotline – will inevitably raise heavy-duty questions about humanity, individuality, personality, and how great a role memories play in who we are. Going in unprepared will result in a story crumbling under that immense philosophical weight – or alternately, providing so many conflicting messages that the readers react with a variety of concerns like the ones quoted above.

So, let’s talk science, philosophy, and metaphor.

Behind the cut: cloning vs SF make-believe, the ethics of cloning, the question of souls, fictional metaphors for souls. I’ll do a follow-up that gets into the clues in VLD’s text, how a cleaner metaphor could resolve the clone storyline’s plot holes, and what tweaks could’ve unified the metaphor.

The only way to avoid these reactions is to think through the ramifications, and give the narrative a very clear opinion on the answers. You’ve got to do the worldbuilding and decide whether this story’s world is essentialist or existentialist, and how that will change the consequences. It helps to pick a metaphor, but it must be relatively simple (so you don’t need exposition hell to explain), and it must be consistent. The instant the narrative starts waffling on its opinion of its ‘truth’, audiences will sense this and suddenly all those philosophical questions are going to come down, hard.

real cloning vs SF make-believe

In 1885, Hans Adolf Eduard Driesch produced the first viable clone: a sea urchin. In 1902, Hans Spemann cloned a salamander embryo. It wasn’t until 1996 that anyone managed to clone something other than embrionic cells, when Dolly was closed from adult somatic cells. And now, in 2018, biotech company Stemagen has come up with a process that uses an adult human’s cells to create the embrionic material needed for an actual, human, clone. It’d still need to be implanted in a womb, and from there on follow regular human birth and growth, but yes. It’s a human clone.

A clone is not born full-grown. A clone has no memories of anything that gave it genetic material, any more than you remember a parent’s tenth birthday or first kiss. A clone is no more artificial than a baby created by in vitro fertilization. The only difference between Dolly and other sheep was her method of birth; in all other ways that matter, she was a normal sheep. She grew up, had kids of her own, and died. Once the person (or animal) is born, they are their own person, with their own experiences and memories.

A cloned being does not automatically look like its genetic parent; you can still end up with a crapshoot in terms of appearance. Sometimes genes switch on and off, as a body grows; even identical twins are not truly and perfectly identical. Also, injuries (including scars) do not convey. On a glossy level, what’s stored in the DNA isn’t the injury but the body’s need to create collagen to repair that injury. Think of it like a band-aid: even if the body records the need for that bandaid, the clone’s lack of injuries would prompt the body to dismiss the bandaid.

ethics of cloning & the question of souls

Once you recognize you’re talking about a living creature, the ethics simplify into being the same as what you’d raise for any other living creature. Banks and banks of post-birth clones, even in stasis, are as much living creatures as any other. Slaughtering them is still murder. Enslaving them is still slavery. Brutalizing them is still abuse. Cool clone, still murder.

Where things get sticky is when the issue of clones runs up against religiously-based beliefs, most of which lack a solid framework for this modern concept. (Some religions have addressed in vitro and cloning birth technologies, but the specifics aren’t really relevant here.) Since this show is American-made, I’m going to stick to Western concepts, since that’s the most likely influence on the various creators involved in VLD. But to discuss souls, first we have to talk about the two theories on how personhood develops.

essentialism vs existentialism

In essentialism, essence precedes existence: the person’s essence comes before all other things, even the spark of life itself (or alternately, the essence is the spark that kicks life into being self-aware). Spirit, soul, whatever word you use, it’s some inherent and inviolable thing that forms the basis of the individual’s personhood. It maps roughly to the nature half of the nature-vs-nuture debate – but it’s bigger than that.

Essentialism, at its extremes, is a position of seeing that originating spark/soul as the entirety of a person’s truth. When you reduce someone to their gender, or their race, or some other facet of their birth, that’s essentialism; when you declare that someone born X at birth can never be Y, again, that’s essentialism. When essentialism mingles with religious beliefs, you get a concept of a soul that exists before birth, and continues after: the person’s true essence, for which the body is only a thing to put it in. It’s the ultimate Cartesian separation between the mind-that-is and the body-that-experiences.

Existentialism is the opposite, and maps more closely to nurture-over-nature. Existence precedes essence: personhood is the culmination of all our experiences, our memories, our interactions, our successes, our failures. Everything you’ve ever done, known, said, thought, or dreamed: these are your interactions with the world, and they are the entirety of what has shaped you into who you are. If there is an essence in play, it is formed out of your existence, rather than informing it. We are each born a tabula rasa, and there is no division between mind as objective observer and body as the vehicle of experience. These things are basically one and the same, in existentialism.

This perspective can also be taken to extremes; at its worst, it’s been turned into a kind of AI-like philosophy, where culture, genetics, family, can be swept aside – along with any future paths. Nothing is true; everything is permitted – a phrase whose roots are deeper than any video game, in a murky muddle between François Rabelais and Hassan-i Sabbah (by way of Vladimir Bartol). If you’re curious, this is the best short explanation I’ve found.

fictional metaphors for souls

I bring up those competing paradigms because for most religious worldviews, ‘what brings life’ can be hugely important. If the process of birth is defined as a soul exists, the body is created, the soul enters thus making life, does this change if a body is created intentionally? What SFF likes to ask is whether a creature could be only as the shell, lacking that pre-existing substance. (Existentialism bypasses all of this, of course – but that would make for a boring story. It’s just one more individual who is born, lives, and eventually dies.)

The hitch lies in our real-world metaphors mapping to computers. I’ll walk through a metaphor based on real-world computing rules, and hopefully it’ll become clear how this contradicts with the Western religio-spiritual assumption of a pre-existing, unique, 'soul’.

The mind-body separation exists in the basic metaphor. Hardware is the body, which can run with little oversight; the software (the mind) can usually be updated without disturbing the hardware. Sometimes the hardware ages out and this impacts the software; extend this metaphor and you get the SFF premise of transferring to new hardware so the software (the mind/soul) continues to run. Sometimes the software demands too much and burns out the hardware.

Overall, the computer-based metaphor plays neatly into the Cartesian system where the two (mind and body) are separate but co-influencing. Note that part about 'transfer to new hardware’ – this is where this metaphor breaks down.

Remember that Cartesian (yes, 'I think, therefore I am’ guy) posits a separation, and lends itself to an essentialist view where the mind can exist separately and objectively from the body. The same is not true of computers. Ask questions about pre/post life and the computer metaphor swerves into existentialism.

To illustrate: let’s say you have a laptop running a Unix OS, and one day you uninstall Unix and install Windows. It’s now common enough to do fresh installs that the average audience-member will grasp the metaphor: the laptop is now Windows. There is no more Unix. If there is a ghost in the machine, it’s a newborn with factory settings. If you were to reverse your actions and go back to Unix, the original system doesn’t pop up out of nowhere; you now have a newborn system that just happens to be Unix. Unless you took other precautions, the original is gone.

I mention precautions because there are real-world alternatives in the process, and those impact the metaphor. The first is ghosting to an external drive: that entire Unix setup was copied over to a secondary home, broken away from the hardware. It’s no longer interacting; it’s in stasis.

Yet, from the perspective of the laptop, it’s now Windows and must start over. The computer has no knowledge of once being Unix. Its self-knowledge begins with its 'birth’ as a Windows machine. If the computer is then wiped and the ghosted Unix is returned to the hardware, the re-installation would have no record of what happened in the meantime, because from the OS’ perspective, there’s no break in its experiential record. It was Unix, it was in stasis, it woke and was still Unix.

The alternative is an OS split into two; memory (the database) and personality (the OS). This paradigm gained strength with the rise of large external drives for long-term storage, while the laptop acts like a terminal, storing little and retrieving as-needed. An uninstall/install will produce artifacts: tiny footprints of a previous OS. (In an archive moved from Mac to Windows, you can see this in the .DS_Store files in every folder.) You could say that the newborn Windows system arrives with clues to its hardware’s previous existence, but in this metaphor, those 'memories’ may make no sense to the current OS. Windows has no idea what to do with a .DS_Store file; it doesn’t need it, and can’t even read it.

the narrative needs to be certain of its opinion

Given those variations in the person-as-computer metaphor, it’s imperative that a story know exactly how its world works. Without that strong and settled opinion, a stray remark within the narrative can mislead readers into thinking they should be following a different version of the metaphor.

If your story will stand or fall on the concept of a ghost in the machine, you’d better clarify that there’s a backup copy somewhere. If you want the memory without the personality, you’ll need to bring in the concept of external memory paired with a new OS. Otherwise you risk readers kneejerking at the notion that the unprepared, unsaved, and uninstalled Unix OS is just floating out there in the ether, waiting to return. You’ve broken your metaphor.

Next post: the clues in VLD’s text, fixing the clone-created plot holes, and some minor tweaks that would’ve unified the metaphor.

#voltron legendary defender #metaphors and themes #storytelling #operation kuron #vld #voltron

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somethingfoe · 6 years ago

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You’re SPECIAL (FO4): Tacticians

This took some time as well, didn't it? Considerably longer than my Medics one, considering that I had that scheduled for release but got pulled back as a result of me moving out. Why? Well, Fallout 76 was as much of a fucking disasterpiece as I feared. It's barely even wearing the skin of the Fallout franchise as it tries to be some rust clone 3 to 5 years late on that bandwagon, with rehashed out assets from Fallout 4 with all kinds of dialogue interaction skimmed out for audiologs spitting out diatribes. It seems to me that Bethesda have rested on their laurels way too long to give Fallout the kind of treatment it deserves, and don't give me this bullshit that it's just merely a 'side' project and won't have any effect on future titles. Fallout 4 was basically them testing the waters of the settlement crafting system and attempting to skim down the dialogue options prevalent in previous titles, if Fallout 76 would've succeeded off it's own laziness, guaranteed that Elder Scrolls 6 would've had the same treatment as well as other future titles. Considering that not barely a month into release and Fallout 76 has been knicked off half it's retail price is probably a tell tale sign that Bethesda have fucked far beyond just making their typically buggy games, and that they seriously need to reevaluate their ethical decisions for the long run, because at this point, the fucking fans are making better games than they are. Fallout New California, a 6 year old mod based off of the working parts of Fallout New Vegas, just came out and is indefinitely superior in what Fallout is conventionally known for, save for the isometric view and turn-based combat. As a result of this disappointment, I found it really hard for me to continue on this You're SPECIAL series considering that that was primarily why I even wanted to make a 'FO4' version of it, but alas, I must continue with the ones I made prior. With that side note out of the way, here is the tacticians of the respective FOE and PH lores! I figure that I first cover the Main protagonist's companions across all boards before doing the side entries like Malevolent Relics and Main Antagonists, which means that the Odd One Outs (or Pets) will be the next entry on that. I'm not sure if I intend to slash their base SPECIAL attributes Like I did previous, maybe just lower their level cap a hair and see where I can skew some of the attributes too. With the nods in mind, the Xenith art was by :DevClutterCluster: and the Lacunae art was by :DevInLucidReverie:, and boy was the Lacunae art fucking hard to make work in this format, what with the huge flowing mane that I had to cut out but not too much to make it obvious. As with Saboteurs and Medics, This is taking into account a build that is at Level 65, with 12 perk points put into the actual Attributes themselves, pitting it at 40. If you're curious how I decided the Attributes, like with the others, the link for the original is right here https://www.deviantart.com/somethingguy912/art/You-re-SPECIAL-Xenith-VS-Lacunae-525076774 since I'm going to have to explain why I chose what perks. With that, here is the technical mumbo jumbo, as always.

STRENGTH

Strong Back Xenith :star: :star: :star: :star: - Seeing that Xenith lived all her life as a slaver, I'd imagine that her being forced to lug around huge items was a day to day part of her life. Not to mention how Xenith was capable of carrying Littlepip unconscious on her back after Littlepip's attempt to save both of them from captivity of Red Eye is a impressive feat on it's own. Armorer Lacunae :star: :star: - Seeing that Lacunae is not keen on either fiddling with guns or armorer, we are merely talking about the hypothetical armorer work in that Lacunae can project a 'bubble' around herself as a means of protection, what with being a Alicorn under manipulation by The Master of Maripony. Iron Fist Xenith :star: :star: :star: :star: - Xenith is the master of Fallen Caesar, a sort of close quarters combat brought down through the generations even beyond the apocalypses attempt to eradicate it, and with Xenith being a hard boiled gladiator for the mere spectacle of the other raiders, Xenith is not one to be tussled with in close proximity.

PERCEPTION

Refractor Lacunae :star: :star: :star: :star: - Borne of a weird radioactive experiment and being artificially made into a Alicorn, it only makes sense that being so attune with magic can make nearly resistant to any sort of plasma or energy weapons to the point that they might as well bounce off of her! The aforementioned protective bubble also helps to confirm this notion. Night Person Xenith :star: :star: :star: - Being thrown in a dark, dingy cage outside of having to fight in a dark, bloody arena would make one a bit more perceptive of the goings on during the night, so it makes sense that Xenith would have superior eyesight during those times. Lacunae :star: :star: - While Lacunae does sport some of that same ability as well, not to mention by her being previously a trained assassin post-apocalypse, Lacunae's innate ability to project light out from her horn in times of darkness gives her less of a edge when it comes to matters of the night. Still, having a weird connection to other Alicorns across the globe helps too. Demo Expert Lacunae :star: :star: - Lacunae is a big guns babe, and she likes all things big, from Miniguns to heavy grenade launchers, so Lacunae does sport some fascination with the big and loud and brutal, even if it makes her a sort of open target for ongoing attacks. Awareness Xenith & Lacunae :star: :star: - Both these lasses sport the same skill in awareness, with Xenith's more isolated nature helping to observe things around her, and Lacunae being a agent of misery for the Master's worst parts. You need the Nuka World DLC to get a 2 star in awareness, so if you don't have it, Xenith would get a one star in Pickpocket, whereas Lacunae would get Three stars in Demo Expert.

ENDURANCE

Adamantium Skeleton Lacunae :star: :star: :star: - Being irradiated with pure magic makes it quite difficult to knock down someone, and Lacunae has that in spades. Barely able to even get hurt, save for the perchance of getting a train dropped on you, Lacunae is completely numb to the idea of having limbs damaged. Rad Resistant Lacunae :star: :star: :star: :star: - Almost in comparison to resistance as Steelhooves is, perhaps being doused in radiation makes you almost nearly immune to it, to the point that it might beef you up too! Who'd funk that! maybe everyone should just dump in radiation...oh wait, it doesn't quite work THAT way! Chem Resistant Lacunae & Xenith :star: :star: - Again, both lasses are pretty resistant to chems, even if both don't really use it that much. Probably Xenith for Med-X what with her battle scars and slight trauma, and Lacunae's inherently somber nature needing some version of AntiDepressants? Lifegiver Lacunae :star: :star: - Being a large body Alicorn would tend to give you a bit more resilence, even if Lacunae doesn't really need the help. Her protective bubble, and her slightly regenerative radiation also gives her a bit more longevity than most. Lead Belly Xenith :star: :star: - Both hated as a Zebra and a outcast, Xenith has had to take the worst from others in order to survive, so I wouldn't be surprised if she's been able to tolerate some otherwise dirty water to keep going. Toughness Xenith :star: :star: :star: :star: :star: - Being beaten, bruised, raped, tortured, and splayed as a exotic attraction for the arena, Xenith can take the worst that anyone can bring upon her, assuming that it's not to the expense of her lost daughter. Lacunae :star: :star: - Lacunae can similarly take some beatings, but not nearly as much as Xenith has. Lacunae does have to endure with all of the negative feelings that the Master pumps into her, but not much more beyond that.

CHARISMA

Lone Wanderer Lacunae :star: :star: :star: :star: - Lacunae is absolutely isolated from everyone else, despite being tied with Unity and the other alicorns. Treated merely as the ugly duckling of the pack, and vilified on sight by anyone else, Lacunae is the very definition of a lone wolf. this requires the Far Harbor DLC, so if you don't have it, Lacunae will get a additional point into Cap Collector. Xenith :star: :star: :star: - Xenith is almost equally in measure to being isolated from everyone else, but unlike Lacunae, being a Alicorn, Xenith is not immediately killed on sight, so I guess she does get 'some' interaction, even if it is almost entirely abusive. Xenith could be considered a 'Haphephobe', which is being afraid of being touched by others, a trauma that Littlepip had to learn once she got to know her better. Lady Killer Lacunae :star: :star: - I know this might seem strange, given Lacunae's demured nature, but Lacunae does catch some eyes, like with Paladin Stronghoof, in spite of her Alicorn nature and personality. You could also say that Lacunae's more quiet nature does give her a bit of a allure to others as well. Cap Collector Lacunae :star: - In the most basic means, Lacunae can collect caps, if merely as a half measure. More interested in trying to lead Blackjack to the goddess more than anything, I merely put this in on account of Lacunae's desire to keep her black dress in check so others don't immediately recognize her as Alicorn.

INTELLIGENCE

Nuclear Physicist

Lacunae :star: :star: :star: - while Lacunae is not one to delve in using specifically energy weapons, Her innate alicorn abilities more than compensate for that and factor into her ability to use a multitude of abilities to either fire projectiles out of magic, or cast shields for herself and allies. Robotics Expert Lacunae :star: :star: - Seeing that Lacunae can master levitation with relative ease, she can inadvertently use enemy robots on her side by merely directing them towards another target for her own purpose. She can even use her own magic to literally shred robots to pieces, from the inside no less if need be! Chemist Xenith :star: :star: :star: - Supporting the stereotype that Zebras tend to delve in the alchemical, Xenith is one such, being able to brew unusual potions that help with wounds or other ailments if need be, even if it's a rare thing for her to do. Science! Lacunae :star: :star: :star: - Again, while Lacunae is not keen on using technology to win the battle, her intense knowledge stemming from her connection to the other Alicorns around her, and her fascination with heavier weapons gives her some desire to amp them up from their initial build. Xenith :star: - Another stereotype of Zebras is that they are technophobes, which I guess requires some idea as to how weapons and technology works to be afraid of them, so I guess Xenith gets merely a one for her paranoia of it. Scrapper Xenith :star: :star: - with the aforementioned technophobia, Xenith doesn't tend to let those weird do-hickys stay functional, vying to scrap them or strictly warn others of using them. Basically she is the bane of the philosophy behind the BoS. Gun Nut Lacunae :star: :star: :star: - While Lacunae isn't quite the aficionado when it comes to all things gunpowder, Lacunae still enjoys using the otherwise unwieldy weapons to great effect, like with the Anti-Material Rifle for example. Medic Xenith :star: :star: :star: - Xenith does surprisingly sport some knowledge of healing ailments, what with her being somewhat capable of deterring Killing Joke as well as her ability to use healing powder during her time as a slave to heal some grievous wounds. Lacunae :star: :star: - While Lacunae can indeed 'heal', so to speak, she really only can do it for herself. Other with her being able to levitate friends out of trouble, or give them a protective bubble, Lacunae cannot gift her friends her healing ability.

AGILITY

Blitz Xenith :star: :star: - Xenith is almost entirely melee based, so it makes sense that her prowess in Fallen Caeaser would require that she needs to close the distance with her enemies, thus giving her maxed out in Blitz. Ninja Xenith :star: :star: :star: - Xenith is quite a sneaky zebra if you give her the ability to get out of her cage, metaphorically or no. A lot of Zebras have a good knowledge of what amounts to Sun Tzu's the Art of War; covert attacks. Seeing that Xenith is equally melee based as Rampage is, it only makes sense that Xenith would want to quickly make that distance. Moving Target Xenith :star: :star: :star: - Continuing to be agile and fit as she is, Xenith got her recognition as a deadly fighter in the arena, being nearly untouchable as a result of her nimble ways. Action Boy Xenith :star: :star: - Xenith has to keep moving, goddammit! she's moving to avoid enemies, moving to close the distance, and moving to stay out of sight, she's got to have as much action points in order to win! Sneak Xenith :star: :star: :star: :star: - Xenith would more than likely prefer to hide than be seen by a crowd to be mocked at until she drove their face in the dirt. This also confirms the suspicions that Zebras adopted Sun Tzu's tactics of hit and run and subdue the enemy psychologically then moreso. Commando Lacunae :star: :star: :star: :star: :star: - Lacunae is a star when it comes to all weapons two handed, and seeing that Miniguns, Launchers and .50 Cal Sniper Rifles are ostensibly two handed, it only makes sense that Lacunae would have a fondness for them.

LUCK

Mysterious Stranger Xenith :star: - this might be a strange inclusion for me to put on here, but Xenith does have the help of her lost daughter later on to get the slight upper hand, as both are very good at sneaking and attacking when necessary. Bloody MessLacunae :star: :star: :star: - Lacunae can tend to get a little out of hand with her excitement of heavy weapons, often times literally making paste out of her enemies once Unity starts to control her moreso than other times.And that is it with the Tacticians! I have a photo run planned to do sometime tomorrow, as I have only one day off and I figure that I do one considering how long it's been since my last proper one! enjoy this for now!

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