#SO FUCKING. TYR CORE.

[tiredassmage]

PLEASE I’m in fucking TEARS NO ONE PREPARED ME FOR SMUGGLER LIKE THIS

#SO FUCKING. TYR CORE. #FUCKING SOBBING I CAN'T I CAN'T THIS IS SO GOOD #swtor #videos #vs: king and lionheart [smuggler!tyr] #swtor smuggler #swtor kotfe #knights of the fallen empire #how am i supposed to actually play when he keeps dropping line deliveries like this

[silvertonguedcharlatan]

I want to run a durge cleric because it would be equal parts touching and funny, imagine waking up with cleric powers and knowing you at one point worshipped a god and you have to in the moment try to figure out which one it is and hope you pick right

AND THEN you very obviously do not pick right but the god you do pick takes you in anyway!!! Maybe it’s mercy or maybe all the gods LOVE fucking with bhaal and this is the best opening they’ve had in YEARS

Like a drow durge cleric of eilistraee, goddess of freedom and expression, would go SO HARD or any durge cleric of tyr trying to atone for sins long forgotten, they take durge in out of divine mercy and hope

Or a durge that picks another evil god like talos or umberlee because they know at their core they were made for destruction, they take durge in and immediately break down bhaal’s door and say “remember your kid????? I’m their dad now fuck you”

#ive been wanting to try tempest cleric so this might be the way in #evil stepdad talos enters the chat #anyway #wont even THINK about if the dead 3 were option for cleric gods #durge cleric of bane?????? #gortash’s wet dream #durgeposting again #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #the dark urge #I edited a grammar error

[transsexual-ghost]

ok i am now having coherent thoughts about the Guys:

so gow:r at its core is about fatherhood and learning to let go, even if it's gonna hurt like a son of a bitch. (to me, at least)

the scene where atreus tells kratos that he must find the remaining giants, alone, because he has to. because at his core, atreus is a victim of a genocide. (odin and thor had a vendetta, and as far as he knows, he and angrbroda are the only living giants left in midgard) he wants to connect with his culture, because he never really got that with his mother and the only other giant he knows is angrbroda, and they've only known each other for a short amount of time. not to mention that she's also fourteen and watched her parents and the people around her die until it was just her and her grandmother

and atreus is only fourteen, he's watched the end of the world nearly come to fruition, not to mention that he saw brok get killed by odin, posing as tyr. and atreus. atreus has to take this on because he has to.

and we saw that kratos at the beginning and for most of the game, he had accepted that he was going to die, so he pushed atreus. but he wasn't willing to let go of his son. so he refused atreus being the champion of the jotnar, because what if he lost another child to something that could be prevented?

and i am not going to go into kratos' guilt complex about his first family. (for now. might be a separate post or a tag ramble, who knows)

so when kratos, at the end of the game says, "Loki will go... Atreus shall stay." not only is it soul shattering and the emotional equivalent of a brick to the face, it highlights his growth as a character and a father and his reluctance to let go.

but he does. and yeah, it hurts. but atreus'll return.

and kratos and thor are two sides of the same coin. both of them had shitty fathers who insisted that they were destroyers. hell, even thor acknowledges that at their core, both he and kratos can very easily destroy things. they love their respective children to death, and are willing to kill for them. (even if thor didn't treat his sons well. like he beat the living shit out of modi because his brother was killed by a much older god who was stronger than him.) but kratos broke out of the cycle of sons killing their fathers. (or fathers killing their sons)

yeah, he killed zeus. but instead of hurting his son and restricting his growth, kratos encouraged that. and yeah, kratos wasn't the best with atreus in gow:2018, but he was fucking terrified that he would hurt atreus like he hurt calliope. but he didn't.

thor, unlike kratos, never got to break out of the cycle. from what we've seen, asgard had a "kill or be killed" culture. you couldn't afford to be soft and kind. you had to be a hardass, you had to hurt people. and odin cultivated that, to the point where it was his downfall.

from what we've seen, odin encouraged thor to be a violent and drunken monster.

"I think, you kill."

and then thor died, leaving behind a violent and bloody legacy for his only surviving child to unpack.

so at its core, god of war: ragnarok is about breaking the cycle and having good supports.

#god of war #this is honestly just a big thing of word vomit so don't expect any *good* analytical essays n shit #the power of hyperfixation is keeping me afloat on the gow raft and goddammit i'm gonna start rowing

[ravenstone12]

FUCK IT IM WRITEING THE BAD GUYS FANFICTION WOLF AND SNAKE BACKSTOY THATS TOATLKY NOT A SELF INSERT GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Tw: attempted scuiside, knives,murder,threats,smokeing.and also just a bunch of fucked up stuff happend to me and the peopel around me so if you dotn mind I'll be putting it here I'll also add in other rtrumamtising stuff so that you'll never guess what actually happened.

Chapter 1. Humble beginnings (aka they are children)

It's not easy being this good at hide a seek, you gotta learn, and you ca never use the same place twice or you lose, and losing is the worst when big sister mindy is babysitting. Luckily me and my best buddy Mr.Snake are REEEEEELY good at hideing. Right mr.Sna- wha-hey! Stop smoking you'll give away our hiding spot-!

"Neahh calm down woofie mindy's too dumb to look up"

(Mindy)Found you! Dumbasses

Cut to next scene

Oh well a couple of new bruises and one more whisker cut, at least we didn't get caught immediately! And-and! We got to eat a WHOLE SANDWICH

Sssshhh Keep It down woofie, dont wanna get in any trouble. [He watches the door as he lights his next cigaretteby the window]

Oh yeah, sorry I've never been so full!

Ya've bee. That full before, when ours fosters was still here, still cant give ya convinced them we were siblings.

I know right! And they didnt sperate us!!

.

Do you think mindy will ever... get, better

Mabie wolf... ma- *violent coughing and hacking*

Snake!!! I'll get your mist machine domt move tyr to keep breathing

*franticy scrmabliling to open the zipper, plug in the mashine then attach the tubes and open the medicine packet all while snake is desperatelytrying to breathe, he is no longer coughing but only from lack of energy, not need, and while wolf squishes the medicine into the masks container for it he attaches the mask to snakes face, turns on the machine, the loud loud mashine and connects the tube to snakes mask*

WHO IS MAING ALL THIS RACKET- SNAKE I BOUGHT YOU AN INHAILER SO YOU DIDNT HAVE TO USE THIS FUCKING THING ANYMORE[screaming and kill king things including the mist mashine with yanks snakes barley breathing body with it, and while wolf trembles I fear] YOU ARE A COMPELATE WAST EOF OXYGEN YOU THING YOU CAN SMOKE AND THEN CONPLAIN ABOJT YOUR ASTHMA?? this is the LAST time you use this machine Got It? *She holds a knife to snakes throat* next time you need to use this thing, just kill yourself or I will. *she storms outs, stabbing the knife into he floor*

Hey wolf. *GASP* c-can you hold me...

I'll hold you snake. After all I'm a good boy and good boys a-always help others.

*snake is too weak to anser*

.

.

.

Between you and me snake. I'd hold you even. If we were both rotten to the core.

The end for now I am tired.

#the bad guys #thebadguys #snake #spider #webs #wolf #shark #chrimson paw #diane #fanfiction #fanfuc #love this #i just relise di accidentily used the bi flag colors #oops

[devilbat]

Claimed

Loki x reader

Warning: Fluff, Smut, Mention of blood and abuse former lover and Fluffyness. That’s all I can think of.

@silverlightsaber Loki with a side of smut 13, 15, 21 I hope you like it.

​

13 "Are you hurt?" "No." "Then why are there bruises all over your face?"

15 "Is that blood?" ".....No?"

​

21 "I'd take a bullet for you." "It's not romantic when you're immortal."

The beautiful green and gold dress you wore was ruined, having a small amount of blood on it. Sadly it was to be worn for tonight's ball at the palace. Unfortunately, a casualty just like your face that was covered in small about of bruises. After a fight broke out between you and a man that was to be your fiancé, one that was willingly provided to you by your family. He was an awful man and had no regard for you. You were just some prize to be won to him. Your family's wealth was what he was after. No matter how hard you tried to tell your parents that, you did not want to marry him, that he was hurtful to you. But to them, this was what life was like. Your father was an awful man that would hurt your mother. He would only tell you that you most like deserved it. And that you will understand when you became his wife.

The countless time you tried to run away only to be caught. The one and only male you had trust in your life was the God of mischief. You both had been friends as kids. The love of your life. A prince you know all too well you could never be with.

Luckily no one was home when you arrived; everyone had left for the ball. You ran from the man you told you would never marry after he struck you for leaving, his mark on your face grabbing you by the arm before throwing you down. You had never noticed the blood coming from your nose until you got home. Tears stained your cheeks and burned your eyes. You never noticed that you had left the door open to your home or your bedroom. You also never heard a man call for you.

"lady y/n." Loki's voice came from the door as he pushed it open. You screamed and jumped, grabbing anything to cover your naked form.

"Norse Loki, get out!" You yelled, throwing the pillow you had grabbed to cover yourself as the Prince just stood there stunned. You quickly regretting the only thing that covered you to throw it at him as you suddenly grabbed the discarded dress, holding it to your body. Your head tilted down, letting your hair fall in front of your face.

"I'm sorry, darling I-" Loki had casted his eyes downward. Only for him to realize there was something off, and it wasn't you naked a pleasant sight sure, but your dress had blood on it.

"Is that blood?" Loki asked, looking back up at you, taking a step further into your bedroom.

".....No?" you squeaked out, flipping the dress around backing away in the process, still hiding your face from him.

​

"I think I would be able to recognize blood, so would you like to try again?" Loki crosses his arms over his chest.

"Loki," you sighed heavily, still keeping your face down. "I only had a bloody nose, no need to worry, now can you kindly leave so I can get dressed." Hoping Loki wouldn't see past your somewhat of a lie. Loki was about to take a step back. You turned just slightly to watch him walk out, but he stopped. "Are you hurt?"

"No." you Stammered out, turning your head away. "Please, can you go." you never noticed Loki used an illusion until you felt his finger hooked gently under your chin, lifting it, giving him a better view of your face. He winces at the state of you.

"Then why are there bruises all over your face?" He asked his voice soft yet stern. His eyes were watching you waiting for you to lie to him.

"I-I fell." You pulled away slightly. "As I said, it's nothing." You heard Loki sigh his head fell before he spoke again.

"My little dove." He looked back at you, your heart flutter as it always did at the nicknames he would give you. He was making it hard not to tell him everything. "Try again."

"I broke the engagement off. And this was what he had to say about it. Now can we move on and let me attempt to hide this." You sobbed out, still trying hard to hold on to the tears that threatened to spill. The anger rose in Loki. He knew something was off when and if he got to see you. As of late, the time the two of you spent together was sparse at most. Ever since the announcement of betrothed to Tyr. Loki loath the pathetic excuse of a man that your father had arranged to marry you. Loki had always thought it would be him that would get the honor. Loki never likes your family. But who believes kids no one.

"I'm going to kill him. Is he going to the ball?" Loki seethed jaw clenched as he moved from you storming out of the room, catching his arm before he could get further than the door. Your gown now forgot on the floor.

"Please, Loki, don't it's not worth it for you to get onto trouble." you pleaded as you pulled him back into your room. Loki notices you were now complete expose to him. His eyes couldn't help but look mostly to look for other marks on your beautiful skin. Taking note at what seemed to be old bruising and a few scars. That he knew you never had before. Considering no matter how many times you told him not to look when the two of you would sneak off onto the forbidden forest just to skinny dip in the hot springs. Loki would use his illusions to make it look like his back was turned to you. Making him smile when he would catch you trying to take your own peek at the God.

"Darling, you know I would do anything for you, right?" Loki looked at you with soft eyes when you stopped making sure the door was shut. You nodded slightly. "you know, I'd take a bullet for you."

   "Loki, It's not romantic when you're immortal." A small smile formed on your face as you watched him. Suddenly your lips whereon his. Kissing him, fiercely years of longing pinning over the other in that one kiss. You pulled away slightly," Please stay with me."

"Are you sure about that little dove?" Loki smirked as he towered over you. "I am not sure I can control myself around you knowing you are no longer betroth freed from someone who had no claim to you."

"Are you sure it's not because I'm naked in front of you." Your hand ran over the detail of his armor.

​

"well, that doesn't help, but I have longed for you. I may have claimed you as mine when we were children — telling my mother that I was going to marry you someday." Loki chucked his hands held on to you tenderly. "I wish I had tried harder, and for that, my love, I'm sorry." your mouth pressed against his once more. Your hand fisted into his raven hair. Pulling him as close to you as you could. You needed him more than you ever thought.

​

        "This, " You moaned against his lips. Your hands roamed over his armor. "Need's to go." Fingers were digging into the leather at his neck. "Please, I've needed you for so long." Like an answer to your prayer, he did as you bid with a simple flick his clothes were gone, and you were on your back with Loki hovering over you. His hands moved along your naked body finding there way between luscious thighs. While his mouth worked over your neck, sucking on the soft flesh.

"Well, well, my pet is oh so wet for her prince." Loki growled his head, moving down towards your heaving chest. The side of his hand rubbed along all ready wet folds. Loki smirked against your skin when you gasped out, moaning his name. Your hips buckled as his skillful fingers explore what lies beneath wet fold. Loki's smirk only grows more sinister as you praised him, calling his name over and over, egging the God on further. His own growing need pressed along your thigh. Your thigh rubbing delightfully against his length as you squirmed under him.

           Loki's suckled on peaked nipples teeth, and tongue worked harmoniously together his teeth held just enough to make it a pleasurable pain while his tongue swirled and flicked over the stiff peaks. Taking his time worshiping each one as they should be. Your whole body is a Temple for him, and only his worship to play with, to have his way with, to love. You were moaning his name night after night day after day. Greedily he would not share you. Your hands found themselves fisting into Loki's raven hair. Loki's hand continue its assault to your core two fingers sliding skillfully in and out while his thumb did a number to your clit within moments you came arching your back, screaming out his name. He Climbed over you after he worked you through your first orgasm.

       "Such a beautiful creature withering beneath me, her God." he purred before kissing you passionately. Loki then eased himself inside you; your welcoming walls squeezed the life out of him. He was rather enormous when he entered you. Your nails dug into pale flesh as you gasped out when he finally settled into you, allowing you some time to adjust. You arched into him with a roll of your hips, giving that silent nudge. Which he gladly did taking you slowly as not to hurt you moving in and out of you. "Norse, you are remarkably tight."

            Loki wasn't sure he could last much longer being you were a nicely a snug fit around his throbbing member. Your moans of pleasure only had him picking up his speed as he trusted deep into you. Making sure to hit the spot deep inside you with each welcoming thrust. Moving your hips in tune with his trusts, your legs wrapped around his waist. Your body was on fire that Loki could only ignite. This was how he felt, and tasted, it was everything, and more finally able to seize.

              "Loki, oh gods, I'm going to- please harder." you cried out Loki smiled at your request. He Pulled your legs from his waist only to place them over his shoulders. Changing the angle hitting new areas, and further just grazing your cervix. Pounding into you, taking you harder, your screams were music to his ears. He fucked you into the mattress, and you came hard around his throbbing cock.

           "Yes, that it cum around my cock." He growled, finding it hard to last as you socked him even further. He came into you hard and deep. Your walls were milking every last drop of him. Loki captured your lips with his as he stilled. Moving your leg as he slowly pulled out, you whimpered at the empty feeling. "I think all of Asgard knows now who clams you." Loki pulled you to him as you both laid there, panting heavily. The feeling of his seed seeped out, your bodies covered in sweat.

         "Loki, how em I going to explain this to my family?" You asked him, Loki tenderly traced your jaw, making sure not to cause you any pain.

          "No need to worry, love. I will take care of it. I will also be taking care of that worthless man that dared to lay his hand on you." Loki promised you as he held you tightly. The joyful sounds of the ball range throughout the town, only missing two of its people. Though as you slowly started to drift off to sleep, you felt a change in the room. Loki had brought you back to his chambers where you would reside forever.



Permanent tags: @kitkatkl @lokilvrr @instantnoodlese @drakesfiance @meyoko10 @miraclesoflove @madleiine, @teageowen @scorpionchild81 @redlipsinkorea @mintzxi @it-jinxed-us @heylals

Tom/Loki Tag's: @theoneanna @graveyard-groupie @silverquartx @moonfaery @kcd15 @moonlightprime @youveseen--thebutcher @shockwavee @sabine-leo @screw-real-life-i-pick-fandoms @vethrvolnir, @darkprincessloki92 @archy3001 @chaoticwithpurpose @paanchu786, @metalheadspider @myownviperroom @arosewithdaisies @jilldsumner @daughterofsunandmoon93 @too-cold-for-youhere @iamverity @sterwild @hiddlefan81 @matczvkv @desimarie12 @loser-alert, @cest-le-temps-de-lamour @lucantis @sherlokiholland @kryptonite2116 @justthatfangirloverthere @littleredstarfish @amore-p-siche @thathedonistgirl

#loki fanfic #loki x reader #loki imagine #loki x you #loki #loki laufeyson #loki fluff #loki of asgard #loki odinson

[tactyl-ymon]

DnD session write up - Remorse and Revelations

Boy howdy, who knew a global pandemic could disrupt social gatherings? Anyway, straight into it kids. Enjoy.

We open with everyone still laughing on an empty beach, catching their breath after narrowly escaping a collapsing demi plane that held an imprisoned dracolich that fed off peoples memories and the revelation that they'd been in said hell plane for a month when Eridol, Veiraen & Whisky all collapse on the ground trying to stop their skulls from retching open as the magic Nervlyth had used to repress every memory from before coming to Ostaria shattered and lifetimes of memories snap back into place. While Whisky and Veiraen take a few minutes to shake off their psychosis, Eridol is trapped in an kaleidoscope of his worst memories and is probably stuck that way for a while, whisky offers to stay back and drink the pain away/keep him safe until he's somewhat functional again and the other three decide they need to debrief Core and the council and with their magical fax machine out of commission it means a jaunty several hour trek through the woods to the capital city and we have our first proper split party of the campaign.

It's around sunset that Whisky notices Eridol doing something besides mutely staring directly at the sun and drinking too much beer and she asks if he's ok after everything they went through and in between too large gulps of booze and those gross sad snot bubbles you get when you cry too hard he tells her about his fiance and how happy they were, about the friends he'd lost to cultists of Bane, the torture they had put him through, the brand on his abdomen that won't go away no matter how many times he burns it off. He tells her about being freed from the cultist camp by clerics of Tyr, he's about halfway through explaining how he ran away from his fiance when he clams up, realising what he was saying and without thinking, gets up and mentions that they should really catch up to everyone else or at the very least head back to the keep so it's safer than camping on the ground near a possible exit from hell space and before Whisky can stop him, the tiny heavily armoured drunk wades into the water and begins paddling for the mainland and Whisky has no choice but to wade in after him.

Because Eridol has the emotional processing power of a particularly dense rock, he's too focused cramming everything he just said back in his head that he doesn't immediately notice that he can't hear Whisky swimming behind him anymore. In a panic he frantically scans the water that accompanies this thought shoving itself to the front of his mind he notices several small bubbles clearing the surface 20 feet away and Eridol does what he does best, which is stupidly dive and swim to the bottom of the lake to find a thrashing Whisky tangled in some kelp. He gets her free just as the bubbles stop and she goes limp. With the fear and adrenaline of having someone else he cares about die, Eridol drags her along with his exhausted chainmail wearing self out and with his limited resources, immediately channels all his remaining energy into a single healing prayer and using it to force the water out of her lungs. While Whisky is busy taking her first of many new breaths, Eridol is babbling about how this is his fault and he can make it better as he begins digging through his pack and shakily offers up a small, rough cut gem necklace. Offering apology after apology even as he slumps into unconsciousness.

Whisky silently tries to take stock of the situation which now includes one severely passed out and heavily waterlogged gnome with a pendant laying on the sand just out of reach and with a single solitary “fuck” she scoops up the necklace and begins thinking on how to move what is effectively canned dead weight and decides the best option would be to get the armor off him and at that point he's basically just a toddler sized sack of potatoes. With the armor off, Whisky gets an unhindered look at the hodge podge of scars that make up Eridol's torso. Skin knitted back together over burns, cuts and punctures, a deep cut through one shoulder surrounded by lots of interlocking circles and a large patch of heavy burns on his right side that he would normally keep hidden. She takes all this in for a moment and decides the most immediate need is to draw a large charcoal penis on his forehead before bundling the tiny man up and dragging him through the forest back to the keep before dumping him in front of one of the fireplaces for the guards to find and wandering off to bed.

Meanwhile, the adults of the group were finishing their several hour trek to the capital and began to notice small camps dotting the farmland outside the city, growing more and more dense until they were smack in the middle of a makeshift tent city. Taking a moment to look around they see the normal array of humans, elves, dwarves and the like but also a greater population of half orcs, goblins, bugbears and teiflings than would have been allowed this close to the city before the slight jaunt through time and space. As they wander through the shanty town fearing some kind of attack had taken place within the city walls to displace everyone, they learn that the newly formed ruling council ordered the lower quarters of the city to be upgraded to decrease the gap between the elite at the centre of the city and the less wealthy that surrounded them. Continuing through the city gates and past the city wide work sites, they come to where the ostentatious council building should be. In its place stands a squat, single storey wood and stone hall, a few small meeting rooms sit on either side of the larger council room. A short queue of the days remaining business slowly filtering through the rough wooden doors of the central chamber, which Veiraen, Septima and Emmi attempt to bypass because they’re big damn heroes, but faced with several town guards and a fairly aggressive half orc with a hard on for bureaucracy at the head of the line, they are momentarily pushed to the back of the queue until the council chamber doors open and Core pokes his head outside, spots the responsible half of the adventurers group and merrily ushers them inside to debrief.

They enter the central chamber to find the two remaining council members, Rorstaad, the human and Sharona the high elf. While Rorstaad remains seated, on seeing Emmi, Sharona immediately strides over and hugs the daughter she had magically forgotten for so many years. Emmi doesn’t say anything but just shrugs off the affection and Sharona meekly walks back to her seat and the trio take turns covering the basics of what happened after they had left through the Slyph’s portal, how they found themselves in an overgrown mushroom forest which paralysed or caused hallucinations in some of the party when it was burned. Whisky’s impromptu growth spurt. Fighting off a giant bird that looked like the night sky itself. Following Septimas sometimes moral compass through the woods and to the druidic village of Kincaid, jumping through a tree into a voided hellscape of nothingness that contained a highly intelligent undead dragon that had been eating peoples memories as a way to sustain itself after Septima, Fulgur and Fafnir had sealed it there a few centuries ago. They go on about how the dragon asked for two people to sacrifice their lifeforce because he just wanted the freedom it deserved, that was all and after a clever ruse from Septima all hell breaks loose and then he kind of dies twice because nobody really knows how warforged work and now the dragon is free. Somewhere in the material plane, maybe. Things got a bit fuzzy after that point. But with the dragon gone, Ostaria is now back in the material plane properly and there’ll be no more weird amnesia things going on so it’s a win win really. 

After taking a moment to take all that in and pour himself half a bottle of wine, Core tries to change the conversation and ask where the other members were? It was strange not to see the group together and with the magic words uttered, Septima gladly mentions how Tornur disappeared as soon as they made it out of the mushroom forest and left a note saying he was called for something and they left Whisky next to a non responsive, shaking Eridol back on the beach they tumbled out onto. Hearing all this, Core pours the other half of the bottle of wine into his cup and downs it in an instant, takes a deep breath and begins very uncalmly explaining why literally all of those are horrible choices. They can deal with Tornur when the time comes, but why did they think leaving the easily spooked, emotional powderkeg of a cleric basically on his own was a good idea? Septima mentions it was fine, he had been like this since Veiraen set him on fire before trying to break his curse on top of a mountain with Fulgir the sometimes dragon a few days prior to them leaving. Veiraen to his credit who had mostly been standing there quietly trying not to draw attention to himself doesn’t shy away from the slew of verbal abuse Core throws at him, only offering a small apology before retreating back into himself. With the initial debrief over, Core dismisses the trio but asks that they get in touch with Eridol and Whisky to make their way to the city just in case the council needs some additional information. Septima opens his hand and like the disney princess he is, snatches a bird out of the air and asks that it deliver a message to Eridol about Core needing to speak with Whisky and him, before the trio make their way to the short barracks building they had been using before the keep was built. 

In the morning, Eridol is woken up by a bird landing next to his head, slowly opening its beak and without moving begins emitting a message in Septimas voice, Eridollets out a shriek and immediately scoots several feet backwards in terror at what is obviously a literal nightmare. Animals can’t talk. The bird repeats the message a few times before Eridol calms down enough to realise what’s going on and quietly thanks the bird and it closes its beak and takes off through a nearby window. The gnome takes in whatever that was before realising that this is definitely not the beach he passed out on and he is definitely half naked on a couch in the keep, with no idea on how he got there Eridol grabs his armor from the foot of the couch and scuttles upstairs to get ready before getting Whisky who successfully stifles a laugh at the large charcoal dong on the tiny mans forehead and they set off to the city, encountering the same large tent city surrounding Principium as they make their way towards the bar the rest of the party were waiting and spend several hours drinking and carousing with the locals. During the impromptu pub crawl, Whisky and Emmi take a spot of gambling with bar patrons, Veiraen makes several attempts to apologise to Eridol who refuses any attempt to have the conversation and Septima befriends a travelling merchant and they begin talking about how the group has a lot of money and money can be exchanged for goods and services and Septima being the good boy that he is decides he should get gifts for everybody, but he doesn’t have much money on him so he asks a very drunk and distracted Eridol for the bag of holding because that’s where all the gold is. Eridol can’t see any faults in this logic and begins handing the bag over before Emmi swats the bag out of his hands and glares at the tiny drunk who sheepishly shrugs before being distracted by a dog and runs outside to pet it.  Emmi and Septima have a short discussion with the merchant about where he’s set up and that they’ll come by in the morning to check out his wares but for now they’re just going to keep drinking and enjoying the company. After a fairly extensive shopping montage that got the group some new weapons, armor and several magical wands for future shenanigans the crew makes their way back to the keep, trying not to discuss the tension between Veiraen and Eridol on the way. It’s a couple hours after midnight, with everyone capable of sleeping being out like a light that Eridols door quietly opens and Septima creeps in and grabs Eridol’s mount and occasional emotional support dog, Pickle from the base of the bed and taps his newly bought staff to the dogs head, asking him to be the friend that Eridol desperately needs at the moment and blessing it with enlightened intelligence and the ability to speak before whispering not to wake Eridol just yet. Which lasts a whole 5 seconds after Septima shuts the door behind him and Pickle begins headbutting Eridol and licking his face and yelling his buddy’s name excitedly and saying how much he loves his tiny master. Faced with all of this, Eridol not sure if this is a dream or that all the psychosis finally caught up to him and he does the only thing that makes sense and begins hugging his dog and quietly crying into his fur for the remainder of the night. 

#dnd #Tactyl Ymon #Eridol #Veiraen #Emmi #Whisky #Septima

[halflingdeath]

✩ (sorry I had to do it! we can discuss it if you like)

Disagreements:

Who is more likely to raise their voice? Tomi Who threatens to leave but never actually does? Tomi Who actually keeps their word and leaves? I can’t see either or them walking out on each other - not for very long, anyways, and when they come back to each other it’s tears and apologies Who trashes the house? Tomi Do either of them get physical? NEVER How often do they argue/disagree? Rith keeps Tomi in check whenever he tries to steal or lie or pull a fast one on folks, so I can see those arguments short-lived before Tomi gives up the ghost and plays by the rules. “Can’t blame a bloke for tryin’, eh?” Who is the first to apologise? Surprisingly Tomi, he gets it in his head after a while that maybe Rith is too good for him. If he doesn’t treat her the way she deserves to be treated, he might lose her for good - so he apologizes before Rith wises up and walks away

Sex:

Who is on top? Rith I think, Tomi’s more likely to cede control to her Who is on the bottom? Tomi’s absolutely a bottom Who has the strangest desires? Tomi Any kinks? “Oh no! Don’t arrest me, miss! I’ll do anythin’!” “Hmm... anything, you say?” Who’s dominant in bed? Rith Is head ever in the equation? Rith is one of those rare cases where he absolutely would give head if she wanted it instead of claiming to be too tired, and on the other side he’d 110% be down to get a BJ If so, who is better at performing it? Rith Ever had sex in public? Nope Who moans the most? Rith probably Who leaves the most marks? Tomi Who screams the loudest? 'Tough Guy’ Tomi :P Who is the more experienced of the two? I’m banking on Tomi Do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’? Definitely make love Rough or soft? They’ll start out soft but Tomi will want it more rough and ragged towards the end How long do they usually last? I can see it lasting 45 minutes to an hour, especially if Tomi focuses on her for a while Is protection used? The question is, do they want protection? o: Does it ever get boring? I don’t think so Where is the strangest place they’d have sex? I’m not sure if Rith allowed it but I can imagine Tomi trying to convince her to let them fuck in a temple

Family:

Do your muses plan on having children/or have children? With Rith? I can see him wanting to settle down and have kids at some point. If it were anyone else, he’d say no If so, how many children do your muses want/have? At least one Who is the favorite parent? Tomi Who is the authoritative parent? Rith Who is more likely to allow the children to have a day off school? Tomi Who lets the children indulge in sweets and junk food when the other isn’t around? Tomi, but saying “shh! Don’t let mum know or she’ll have my arse, aye?” Who turns up to extra curricular activities to support their children? Rith and Tomi. Rith is the supportive parent and Tomi brings the enthusiasm Who goes to parent teacher interviews? Rith, because if Tomi goes then the teacher might lower their standards for the kiddo XD Who changes the diapers? Tomi Who gets up in the middle of the night to feed the baby? Rith Who spends the most time with the children? Tomi, often enough that he’s considered “the other ragamuffin” she looks after xD Who packs their lunch boxes? Rith Who gives their children ‘the talk’? Tomi would give their teen the standard “that’s the way babies get made, don’t know much about changes and hormones but here’s some handy advice--” “Tomi don’t tell them about that stuff!” Who cleans up after the kids? Team effort Who worries the most? Rith Who are the children more likely to learn their first swear word from? TOMI

Affection:

Who likes to cuddle? Rith Who is the little spoon? Most of the time Tomi Who gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places? TOMI Who struggles to keep their hands to themself?  Tomi How long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable? I’m not sure o: Who gives the most kisses? Rith What is their favourite non-sexual activity? Probably trying to make each other laugh or listen to each other Where is their favourite place to cuddle? I’m not sure, I can see Tomi being up for anywhere Who is more likely to playfully grope the other? Tomi, only to get surprised if Rith decides to reciprocate :P How often do they get time to themselves? Probably not terribly often if Rith is stuck in the temple, or meeting with Nasher, and if Tomi’s off trying to build an off-brand thieves guild :P

Sleeping:

Who snores? Tomi If both do, who snores the loudest? Tomi Do they share a bed or sleep separately? They would likely share a bed I think If they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart? Cozy up Who talks in their sleep? Tomi What do they wear to bed? Either pajamas, night shirts, or nothing Are either of your muses insomniacs? Since Rith’s an elf and technically doesn’t need sleep, would she count? Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside? Nope Do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side? They’re probably a tangled mess of limbs at some point, especially if Tomi holds on to her like a Koala :P Who wakes up with bed hair? Elven hair is usually immaculate, which leaves Tomi with the messy hair Who wakes up first? Rith Who prepares breakfast in bed for the other? Tomi tries to prepare breakfast in bed. Rith might eat it just to be nice, but even the toast is beyond recognition XD What is their favourite sleeping position? I can totally see Tomi being the jetpack XD Who hogs the sheets? Tomi Do they set an alarm each night? Can a television be found in their bedroom? Who has nightmares? Is it possible for elves to have nightmares? If anyone does, I’m thinking it’s Rith. Of course she’d have nightmares with the things she saw Who has ridiculous dreams? Tomi Who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed? Tomi Who makes the bed? Rith What time is bed time? Any time Any routines/rituals before bed? Maintenance and hygiene, maybe faith stuff for Rith Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up? Tomi

Work:

Who is the busiest? Rith, by far Who rakes in the highest income? Tomi, though he may not come by it honestly 100% of the time Are any of your muses unemployed? I don’t think so Who takes the most sick days? Neither Who is more likely to turn up late to work? Neither Who sucks up to their boss? Does Rith count as Tomi’s boss? :P What are their jobs? Tomi’s a hired mercenary and Rith’s a hero for Neverwinter Who stresses the most? Rith Do your muses enjoy or despise their careers/occupations? I can see Rith’s job weighing heavily on her, while Tomi’s off gallivanting after her being like “Hells yeah! I love this part!” Are your muses financially stable? Yes

Home:

Who does the washing? Tomi Who takes out the trash? Rith Who does the ironing? Who does the cooking? Rith Who is more likely to burn the house down just trying? Tomi Who is messier? Tomi Who leaves the toilet roll empty? Tomi Who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor? Tomi Who forgets to flush the toilet? NEITHER Who is the prankster around the house? Tomi Who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere? Who mows the lawn? Who answers the telephone? Who does the vacuuming? Who does the groceries? Both Who takes the longest to shower? Rith Who spends the most time in the bathroom? Tomi’s gotta get that hair just right somehow

Miscellaneous:

Is money a problem? Nope - (Tomi winks) How many cars do they own? Do they own their home or do they rent? Own Do they live near the coast or deep in the countryside? Coast Do they live in the city or in the country? City at first but I can see them retiring to the country Do they enjoy their surroundings? Tomi makes wherever he is a home, so it would be up to Rith to find somewhere she enjoys for them both to settle down What’s their song? I’m going by Home by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros :P Otherwise it would be Don’t You Forget About Me by Simple Minds. (I really need to find more shippy-type songs) What do they do when they’re away from each other? Tomi boasts to whoever would listen about his girl back home and I can imagine Rith would be doing the best she can until she comes back to him Where did they first meet? The temple of Tyr in Neverwinter’s city core How did they first meet? Rith was in search for a henchman and Tomi stepped up - after she offered up a satisfactory sum of money, anyways Who spends the most money when out shopping? Rith, since Tomi’s more likely to find ways to get a ‘discount’ Who’s more likely to flash their assets? Tomi, out of a compulsion to brag Who finds it amusing when the other trips over? Tomi would have a giggle while helping her up. “Doin’ awright there, miss Rith? Or should I call you Linu?” Any mental issues? Tomi’s a kleptomaniac, and I can see Rith maybe eventually developing PTSD or depression if she doesn’t already have them? But that’s something I don’t know Who’s terrified of bugs? Rith maybe? Who kills the spiders around the house? Tomi, with a slingshot Their favourite place? Wherever they’re together and not being chased by terrifying monsters :P Who pays the bills? Rith Do they have any fears for their future? Plenty of fears, I think. I can see Carefree Tomi’s attitude sobering up a little more as he commits and accepts responsibility, because Rith shouldn’t be dealing with apprehension for what may come all by herself Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner? Rith, because Tomi would end up surprising Rith with a burnt dinner Who uses up all of the hot water? Rith? Who’s the tallest? Definitely Rith Who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other? Tomi Who wanders around in their underwear? Tomi Who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio? Tomi What do they tease each other about? Tomi would tease Rith about her goody two-shoes attitude, where I can see Rith poking fun at Tomi’s inflated ego XD Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times? Not sure o: Do they have mutual friends? Of course! Who crushed first? Tomi was probably head over heels rather quickly, at least by Chapter 2. He can’t help it, she’s a pretty elven miss and she tolerates him longer than most do! Any alcohol or substance related problems? None, I think? Who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am? Tomi, but he won’t make a habit of it if it upsets Rith Who swears the most? TOMI

#neverwinterforgottenhero #((Let me know if I should change anything!))

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #13: To Tend the Flame

Prompt: wax | Master Post | On AO3

Notes: Spoilers for Shadowbringers MSQ and spoilers for the Binding Coils of Bahamut side story.

She first noticed it during the battle at Laxan Loft, but it’s not until they reach Il Mheg that Synnove really paid attention to the new aether curling and weaving amongst her own.

Oddly enough, it’s not the Lightwarden’s. That had felt ice-sharp and rotten-soft at the same time, white to the point of pain and not singing but screeching of broken glass and denied, raging hunger. No, that aether sat in the core of herself, sulking and bitter, but otherwise not influencing her spells.

No, this aether was…warm. Fiery, but the welcome flame of a campfire in the night, or the hearth of a well-loved home. She outright dismissed it as Ifrit’s aether leaking from Ivar; that was too distinctive and too familiar. This new aether was familiar, too, and the way it intertwined among her own, yet remains separate, reminded her of a primal’s lingering touch, so clearly at some point she had come into contact with it.

There was a niggle of an idea at the back of her mind. The hypothesis was set; now to observe.

First: the Dreadwyrm’s aether coalesced much faster. Previously, she had needed to trance at least twice to build up sufficient reserves to (grudgingly) indulge Ivar and use him as the core to summon Demi-Bahamut to the field. Now she only needed to trance just the once. Ivar, at least, was delighted by this change, her bloodthirsty, rage-filled boy.

(And at least she’d stopped having panic attacks every time she’d needed to activate that array.)

Second: the new, strange aether reached peak coalescence only after she had finished coalescing Dreadwyrm aether, and then dissipating it with a summon of Demi-Bahamut. In fact, she couldn’t even tap into Dreadwyrm aether again until she’d tranced with the new aether.

Third: while trancing with the new aether, it affected two of her spells. Outburst was a relatively new creation that the aetherochemistry department had only recently finalized; Synnove had offered to field test it shortly before she and the others had been whisked away to the First. That spell fluctuating due to an unexpected outside influence was unusual, considering how rigorously the Guild tested and developed their arrays, but not impossible. Ruin III, however, was an old standby, a tried and true blast of pure, unaspected power reserved for the most talented members of the Guild that had been in circulation for years. The only arrays more stable were the ones for the rest of the Ruin series and the standard carbuncle summons they gave to the baby arcanists (who weren’t insane overachievers like herself who had to write her own from scratch).

And it wasn’t just subtle effects. No, both Ruin III and Outburst were unaspected; arcanists liked working without the interference of specific elemental affinities, or alternatively with an equal amount of each kind so that they all canceled one another out, it made the math behave. (There was a bloody good reason she’d run into the wall on her artificial aether infusion project: working with elementally aspected aether was essentially working with literal fucking chaos and sometimes it was fun, but sometimes it just sucked.) This new surge of primal aether turned her respectable, unaspected spells into roiling balls of fire and pitch.

Ivar, of course, loved it. Heron and Alakhai, who also preferred to fight in the melee, not so much.

Fourth: the aether sang, as it always did. It reminded her very strongly of the Dreadwyrm aether’s dirge-like ballad, but this aether’s song was slower, more solemn. Wordless crooning matched with the resonant tones of an Ishgardian pipe organ. It was a funeral hymn: no rage, only deep, boundless sorrow, and a bottomless well of love.

Observations complete, she compared the data sets the night they vanquished Titania, absently rubbing her chest every so often as she did. The carbuncles curled up around her in various stages of patience—Galette in her usual spot around her neck, Tyr loafed next to her, Ivar sprawled in her lap and reaching up to either bat at his sister’s tails or his brother’s ears—as she set up the portable readout device she’d thankfully packed back on the Source. Synnove flipped open her grimoire sitting on the ground next to her on the opposite side of Tyr, paging through until she got to the first page of the arrays for Ivar’s passive sensor programming.

Humming quietly, she took the channeling stylus from her mouth, and placed the tip on the activation sigil. The array lit up, and so did the readout device, pulsing out a hologram that scrolled through the most recent aether readings. Synnove squinted as she skimmed the data, scratching Tyr’s neck until the big carbuncle turned into a happy puddle of brass purrs.

Then she called up data from nearly four years ago.

“Synnove?”

She looked up, only a little startled, to meet Alisaie’s worried gaze.

“Is everything all right?” said Alisaie.

Synnove looked back at the data, gnawing on her lower lip as the implications of the data sunk in. She let out a slow breath and said, “Don’t know yet. Fetch your brother, please, the both of you need to see this.”

Alisaie, Twelve bless her, didn’t hesitate, just turned and hurried off to find Alphinaud. She returned with her twin in a handful of minutes to the spot out in the fields surrounding Lydha Lran that Synnove had settled in to review her notes. By the time they reached her, Synnove had pulled up both data sets onto the viewer at once. She gestured, and the siblings both sat in front of her.

“So,” said Synnove, setting down her channeling stylus carefully to ensure the tip still touched the activation sigil of the array, “I’ve noticed a peculiar bit of aether mixing with my own recently and no, it’s not the Lightwarden’s.”

Alphinaud and Alisaie’s looks of alarms quickly subsided, in favor of concern and interest as Synnove outlined for them the changes she noted. Then she pointed to the readout device.

“The display on the left is the recent data Ivar’s passive sensors have recorded,” she said. “I’m sure Galette and Tyr’s would read the same, but since Ivar is the only one installed with the Dreadwyrm Protocols, he has the most complete set.”

Alphinaud scratched Tyr behind the ears, as the big carbuncle had crawled forward for pettings during Synnove’s explanation. “And I note that it’s exactly the same as the display on the right,” he said.

Synnove hummed agreement, rhythmically running her hand down Ivar’s back from his head to the base of his tails

Alisaie sat with her arms crossed, just staring at the displayed data. Finally, she said, “The data from the right is from the Binding Coils, isn’t it?”

“It is,” said Synnove, quiet and serious.

“That’s,” and Alisaie swallowed, “that’s Phoenix’s aether.”

“I believe so.”

Alphinaud didn’t look as rattled as his twin, but Synnove had known him long enough to spot the tension around his mouth and eyes. “Why now?” he said. “You’ve been using the Dreadwyrm Protocols for a number of years by now, so why has Phoenix’s aether remained dormant for so long?”

“My best guess,” said Synnove, “is because we’re here on the First. Eorzea is upfront about the fact that Dalamud’s fall and Bahamut’s rampage unquestionably fucked up the continent both on a physical and metaphysical level. The rest of our home star claims suddenly only having a single moon in the sky after the second one blew up a few miles directly above the surface had no effect on their magicks and aether, but we can all three agree that they’re probably trying to save face to a bunch of foreigners how mucked up things got for them, because that is a load of chocobo shite.”

Alphinaud coughed, smothering a smile, as Alisaie momentarily forgot her distress and snickered loudly.

“Bahamut’s aether didn’t just insinuate itself into everyone at Carteneau,” continued Synnove, continuing to pet Ivar and reaching up with her other hand to scratch behind Galette’s ears. Both carbuncles purred happily. “And it didn’t just insinuate itself into everyone in Eorzea, though I’ll grant that Eorzeans have the highest concentrations. No, Bahamut’s aether is everywhere on the Source; it’s permeated every rock and tree and beastkin and Spoken.

“It’s always been too easy to coalesce Dreadwyrm aether; when I’ve run through my own aetheric reserves, I can still use the Protocols without much fuss. If I was only ever using the aether comingled with my own, I should run out, but I don’t. Thus, I have to be unconsciously drawing upon the Dreadwyrm aether all around me.”

“But here on the First,” said Alphinaud, thoughtful, “Bahamut’s aether only exists in you and us Scions. I have noticed you still have had no issues using the Protocols, so we can assume you are able to draw on the Dreadwyrm aether within us and the others.”

Synnove inclined her head to him. “Just so.”

“So, with a finite amount of Dreadwyrm aether,” said Alisaie, “Phoenix’s aether is finally detectable, and even able to exert influence and become usable with the dissipation of Bahamut’s. And with how quickly and how strong it coalesces, it needs to be dissipated in turn before repeating the cycle.”

“That is my theory for what’s occurring,” said Synnove. “And, of course, I’ve noticed it steadily growing stronger and more stable since this began. No doubt it’ll continue to do so, although at the moment I couldn’t tell why.”

The twins shared a long, silent look. Alphinaud raised a single eyebrow. Alisaie nodded.

They turned back to her, their expressions serious, but the gleam of excitement was in their eyes. Synnove recognized it and grinned; bless their nerdy hearts, her darling little sibs.

“What would you like to do with this, Synnove?” said Alphinaud.

“And how can we help?” said Alisaie.

“Well,” drawled Synnove, “we’ll need to build some arrays to control how Phoenix’s aether warps my spells when I’m trancing with it. And then, I believe, we should prepare for the day when his aether has grown strong enough that Phoenix will fly the skies of the First as he once did at Carteneau to vanquish Bahamut, with all the prayers of Eorzea to guide him. If you two are all right with that?”

The twins dove forward to embrace her; Galette squwaked unhappily at being jostled, but they ignored her. Synnove returned their hugs, smiling, and tucked them in under her arms. Tyr immediately came over to flop across all three of their laps.

“You’re the only one I’d trust with it,” Alisaie said.

“We couldn’t think of anyone better suited,” added Alphinaud.

“Thank you,” Synnove said, as heartfelt and honored as she could. “Now then, my fellow nerds, let’s get to it!”

#ffxivwrite2019 #dt's writing #final fantasy xiv #spoilers #ffxiv spoilers #5.0 spoilers #oc: synnove greywolfe #synnove's carbuncles #alisaie leveilleur #alphinaud leveilleur #my three favorite things: #worldbuilding #bullshitting how arcanima works #and FEELINGS

[thanidiel]

Establishment

[Taking place in some fuck-off time bubble a month after the current phase of the Kris storyline]

From the green horizon that divides Dawnspire Province from its Kingdom whole, a curious sight greets the scarce workers tending the plots of winter-wheat surrounding ailing Autumnvale.

Like the rolling fields of the Goldsea, the Sun, posed overhead, shines onto a glinting sea of bodies. Two-hundred men and women, all donning the winged greathelm of the Phoenix Guard, march in unison along the stone-laid road set centuries prior and maintained since. In the center of their army, space is made for the movement of herded cattle and wagon; evidencing that these elves had no intention to return to the bounty of the Dawnspire garrison any time soon.

At the head of this formation, two horseriders post to the rhythmic trot that leads them closer and closer towards the approaching village. To the left, overtaken by the other, a woman with a mass of hair as black as the beast ‘tween her knees. To the right, a figure with the same greathelm as the host behind them: their body below bathed in red and slivering gold (striking against the white of their steed) and in their hand, standard breaches skyward. Large and paramount, the weathered, scarlet, symbol of Tyr’s Hand, and beneath, the more vivid gold and crimson of the Sunguard.

Once, the movement of such armies along this route between Quel’Thalas and its Dawnspire whether in war or peace was a regular occurrence. Now, the flow of migration that met Autumnvale has trickled to near-nothingness beyond the most bold, or desperate, of elves.

So unique this sight is, the marching host observes the quick withdrawal of the labourers specked all along the soon-to-be-harvested green of winter-wheat towards the disrepair of the village.

Allowing no pause, the army draws ever-steady to the very edges of the farmland surrounding the village buildings within. And that is when the leading figure releases their grip on the reins of their companion. Their unoccupied hand raises high and flat into the air. A succession of shouts and the two hundred come to clean halt in moments with the thud of feet and the ache of wagon wheels.

Once the din of noise settles, the low feminine that had been in quiet discussion to the woman to her right raises to a high thunder that carries over the army and to the ears of the villagers already beginning to gather in the square ahead.

“Harthen! Establish the company’s encampment along the plain. Lynxfury, Dragonsroar, Hawkspear Platoons - you are with me. Assemble behind me in phalanx as the others disperse. Gather the supplies we spoke of last night, the wagon marked with yellow paint.”

The Captain’s vision lolls lazily to regard her partner; a feat that is, by no means, done easily with the weight of her greathelm. her volume lowers to something only heard to Bricini.

“Get the fuck out of my sight. I don’t need you.”

“Oh, Light, you’re such a romantic. Say it again. Once more. With feeling.”

“I mean it - you can’t fuck this up. Go take a nap in one of the supply wagons.”

“I! Want! ...to see my girlfriend, my partner, in her element. Is that so unbearable to deal with?”

“Yes.”

“I’m gonna be in the crowd.”

“Get off the horse, then.”

“But–”

The Phoenix Guard presses her knees into the bare flanks of her mare and bends her head to murmur into its ear. A slow, precise, walk of its hooves commences with another flourishing wave of left hand towards the gathered thirty-six behind them.

Flowing around the dismounting Dawnmender, the soldiers make their way to the center of Autumnvale: where, already, about half of its population has gathered in curious interest towards the seemingly paused army. Worry, hope, fear, caution: she catches all of these murmured sentiments through the whispering people. Very few seem to have recognised her from past days.

The soldiers move in quiet succession around the barren market stalls and prominent statue that make up the core of the square. Ultimately, presenting themselves to where the crowd has condensed the most, towards where the square bleeds into the majority of the sprawling buildings.

From there, one squad breaks from the three-platoon-strong phalanx and quickly establish themselves a large, empty, space behind the Duskward. Unslinging their packs from their shoulders, they work to establish a framework of wooden pole and stake in the earth interspersed between the pieces of stonery below - displaying the reason for the long roll of fabric that spanned the length of the phalanx before it.

In the meantime, Thanidiel pulls herself from the saddle of the dirt-slicked and pale horse below her. Clutching the reins of the placid animal in her left hand, she steps forward towards the crowd. She continues her silent march, closer and closer, to the growing citizenry. Until the phalanx’s backline steps backwards over the tarp to heft it up in smooth coordination and the whole of the formation strides to cover the space made between the working six.

Only then, she brings herself to a squared halt. From her slitted visor, the newly-instated Kin’taris gazes upon the sampling of her wards before her. Many are too young for work, with disproportionate bodies and stringy muscles to their bones. Some are too old for work, with curled, shriveled, bone and hair of fading pigment. Few of those who do not take to the sides of either caretaker or charge possess the weight of true adulthood, even their ears lack length. She could not even call what she had to work with here as ‘scraps.’

The doubled standard raises overhead, the noon-sun catching along the lengths of weighty fabric, and crashes down towards the earth in one beat (of course, it had cantripped an hours’ time before to cut through and settle in the soil as well as it does: thank the Sun for the unsuccessful arcanists ‘mongst the men). Her hand goes for the lip of her greathelm shortly after, already unstrapped from her head before they had entered village, and pulls away the heavy metal.

In the woman’s grip, the armour-piece fall to clatter against the golden steel of her chausses. Easing the ache sparked down her muscles from a motion more theatrical than based in her usual practicality, she hefts the same shoulder in a rolling motion. The draping mantle of a once-great lynx shakes around her in the process as Thanidiel lofts the strong of her imperious chin upward, flicking aside loose curls of her platinum hair. Her one eye falls upon the approach of Sir Reval through the villagers.

She thunders.

“Hail, People of Autumnvale!

Above all, I provide to you condolences concerning the passing of Besari Vella. The most deep of sorrows gripped me the day it was discovered that the efforts of your’s, Kin’taros Reval, Serdari Truefeather, and myself, failed to preserve the life of your own.

As we all know well, however, we, Children of the fallen Blood, must push on with the clockwork of the seasons ahead of us no matter the grief that clutches our breasts. We must honor the memory of not only the late Besari, but those that fell around her, as the Sun and Earth return their bodies to the wheat. Thus, your Serdar has assigned me, Thanidiel Highdawn, to warden these lands under the charge of Kin’taris.

From this point forward, Sir Reval and his troops are dismissed from garrison. His Lord has greater needs of his talent in regions beyond here.

The absence of his skill and the absence of his soldiers emphasises the gaping void that these foreign wars have exacted upon Autumnvale. In exchange; I bring you not only replacement, but I promise you growing respite of the burdens felt here.

Here is a fraction of the able-bodies I have brought you:”

In practiced unison, the thirty soldiers planted behind the Captain all remove their grandiose phoenix helms from themselves - all daring to throw the priceless armour forward with the lob of Thanidiel’s own signature of battle. All displaying the vibrant youth in their taut skin and seafoam eyes staring out to the Citizenry.

The winged gold falls in a rain of metallic racket, rolling this way and that way to strike either stone or the rims of the crowd’s well-worn boots. The Phoenix Guard allows the din to fall down to creaking hints, though not long enough for the people to recover from stupour.

“—the largest misconception suffered by the World is that soldiers eke their livelihoods on the sole spill of blood. We come here to alleviate such falsehood. We will work. We will perform our duties to not only the protection of Autumnvale, but its succour as well.

Aye, People of Autumnvale, we will harvest the ready bounty of your fields alongside you. We will repair what the Broken Men have razed here and more. We will take your ill and your hurt into our camps with open arms. We will assure that there is always bread in your bellies and a fire for your bones. And never shall we ask of you of anything but to live your lives as you ought to live them, anywhere where the Serdar’s Sun strikes the grasses.

Not only will we assist in the going-ons of the village, but we will work to revive the trade route that runs here from Dawnspire to Western High Home. The Broken Men that we all once called siblings terrorise our livelihoods. Telchis Truefeather, as both Serdar and Archon, possesses little patience for Oathbreakers, especially those who would exert their sorrow with ill upon their former loved ones.

It is his Will and, thus, mine to provide security to this region once more and reestablish the flow of trade. We would have Autumnvale’s square and streets filled to the brim with merchant stalls and first-privy to the goods that flow between this province and beyond - as the days of past prosperity.

So it all shall become and be.

I will make myself available here, in this square, for the People as long as there are troubles to plague us; I refuse to spend a single copper of your funds nor hour of your time to repair Sunvalor Estate, a pointless indulgence that benefits only myself.

I want all remaining businesspeople and those you call leaders to speak with me in orderly fashion during meal or passing times over the next week. I wish to evaluate what we are missing here in terms of resources and specialised labour to better my judgement of Autumnvale’s needs going forwards.

Please disperse and return to your days. The army beyond your fields will make rounds starting on the morrow to find and make work with you. Step forward if there are words to be passed.

Belono sil'aru, Tel rea Belore’dorei.”

Having refined to good time in the days prior, Thanidiel’s speech commences right as the crimson and gold tarp is completely fastened and secured to the Commander’s tent established. Pushing out a lengthy breath of repose from her lips, the woman passes off her reins to one of the soldiers now breaking from formation to recover their helmets. She accepts trade of her distinct helm, with its engraved horses into its fore, in return.

The Duskward pulls on the standard she had plunged into the earth minutes ago, turning away from the din of cheering younglings. She notes the squad from before, periodically jogging in and out of the tent with her needed furnishings in the wagon that had followed some distance away: table and stool, bed, armour-and-weapon stands, maps, papers, inks, quills. Their Captain drives her standard back into the ground where it near brushes against the pulled-back tent flap behind it.

The hours drone on in the aftermath of her introduction in a flurry of countless conversations hunched in stool, and painstaking notes generated by the new Kin’taris - a library of cross-reference birthed in a days’ half and promising much more in the length of this evaluation period.

By the time nightfall truly engulfs the village - the woman’s eye strains in throbbing pain, not to mention her spine and backside. She drains her waterskin like she had escaped the heat of Hellfire once again with the exit of the last tradesperson (a carpenter lamenting the lack of lumber for needed reconstruction) into the darkness beyond.

The thrumming relief in her breast is palpable when, minutes later, the smell of just-cooked beef wafts in through the tent opening. Followed by a characteristic smirk and wild of black hair.

[Appearance by @jessipalooza | Mentions/interest of @felthier @azriah ]

#writing #thanidiel #bricini #autumnvale #sunguard #telchis #ellasha

[sigurdjarlson]

I loved Thor 3 and all but I do have some issues with it. Some of these aren’t even issues as much as thoughts on what i personally would have liked to see.

this is probably one of my top three biggest issues. Jane Foster deserves better

the warriors three’s death were absolute bullshit. We didn’t even see Thor’s reaction so what’s the fucking point of killing them anyway?

the lack of Sif is very noticeable and agonizing.

the humor was really fun and all but having a few serious, emotionally impactful bits isn’t a bad thing so..maybe try it next time lmao. A balance of both is key. The few bits we got were quickly stuffed with humor and it ruined the impact imo. I didn’t even cry once. Marvel movies always make me cry and that’s a sign of some good emotionally impactful scenes imo

they are cowards when it came to Valkyrie and her gf

They’re totally gearing up for Thor/Val and I’m...not here for it. I mean alright writers you already treated Jane like trash but now pretending Sif doesn’t exist doesn’t do you any favors either.

the plot was..I’m sorry a film about the destruction of their entire home, countless people including Thor’s closest friends and Father should have been a bit darker.

I wish they would have went the gotg-esque fun route with a different plot. Cuz I loved it and all but Ragnarok is..supposed to be their apocalypse.

how can you have Ragnarok without Jörmungandr.

Some more nods to the actual myth would have been interesting. Obviously not completely but mixing that with the marvel universe would have been interesting..

This would have been a good opportunity to introduce characters like Tyr, Balder or other Norse gods. Freya and Freyr. Naturally they might have to have their characters changed somewhat (like Hela) but nothing wrong with making versions of characters.

not enough Fenir. Also Odin could have had a much more interesting part.

As always I loved Thor but there is also something about the way he was written that irks me just a tiny bit but I can’t put my finger on what it is..

AH! I think I know. They didn’t showcase one of my favorite things shout Thor. His compassion. His kindness. Thor can be a dick don’t get me wrong. He can be arrogant and stubborn and has a nasty temper but at his core he is a very kind, loving person. And I just..don’t see that here. With?? Anyone?? Him interacting with his people would have been nice.

in general I did really enjoy it though. It was super fun and I always love seeing Thor on screen.

#nerd ramblings

[saturniiddae]

A Leisurely Stroll Down

After the Armageddon't, they take a stroll. (Also posted to AO3, updates there first!) 

i. Help me piece it all together darling

After the trial and the toast and a leisurely walk around the block in the pleasantly mild night, the shock of it comes.

It hits them both at the same time. All it takes is Crowley pausing mid-sentence, his lips parting without sound and then Aziraphale stops as well, their eyes locking.

He presses his fist to his mouth, trying to find words through the cold wash of horror that washes over him. Aziraphale makes a noise that reminds Crowley of a toad being stepped on[1]. Their thoughts, not for the first time, and certainly not for the last, are entirely in alignment.

It’s a mutual realization: They both thoroughly expected to be smote during dinner, burned to a crisp by God’s own wrath, right there in the Ritz. Because even if their superiors were dumbshit enough to not put two and two together and make Four, Oh Fuck They Swapped Places, God sure as hell wasn’t.

They exchange looks, nod, and turn towards Soho to get unspeakably plastered. Ideally even more so than they had the night that Adam had been brought into the world, though perhaps without as much talk about dolphins and mating out of water[2] and The Sound of Music.

“My question isss,” Crowley slurs some hours later, waving his bottle about. He manages to knock over an empty wine glass, and it rattles as it rolls across the uneven floorboards. “What crawled up Gabriel’sss ass and died?”

“God, I expect.”

A beat, then, Crowley starts to laugh like he’s choking.

Aziraphale fumbles with his glass. “I, I did not say that!”

“No take-backs! I already heard it! You really are a bastard, aren’t you?” Crowley says, hearing the warmth and wonder of it seep out of him, eyes wide with wonder. He means it as an endearment, just like he had at dinner, and judging by the look on the angels’ face, it’s taken the same way.

“You’ve said that twice tonight,” Aziraphale points out, leaning forward in his chair and shaking a finger at Crowley.

“You are! Bit of a bastard,” Crowley repeats, shaking his head. He grins and locks eyes with Aziraphale, and he feels something heavy settle across his shoulders, pressing on his chest.

Aziraphale, with his fussy waistcoats and fussy foods and voice and his inability to part with a single one of his books without great lamentation; with his wine-flushed cheeks and the tufty white-blonde hair mussed from drunkenly fussing with it as they prattled on about everything and nothing all at once[3].

A bastard, but the best sort, and no one can truly see it, no one but him. He’s not even sure if God cares enough to see Her best and most steadfast angel, and She was who made him the way he was, poured the stubbornness into his essence and hemmed love and protection and adoration into each feather.

Well, bollocks to Her, then. Six thousand years and not even a phone call? He gets calls from Satan. (Or, well, he did.) That’s abandonment right there, and in the words of the Not-Anti-Christ, that’s no parent.

“A good bastard,” he elaborates. “Not like… not like, like, uh—”

“Michael, bit of a tosser,” Aziraphale sniffs into his wine glass, then chuckles. He rolls his shoulders and smirks as he sinks into the act. “I need a bath towel. Maybe it’s a little wicked, but, goodness! I hope to never forget that face.”

He melts; it feels like melting, this feeling. Hotter than driving through the ring of fire that was the M25, hotter than the blazing burn of the ring of hellfire, as bright and searing as the white pylons of Heaven; perhaps, then, this would be what it was like to die in holy water. Hot and aching and liquid in his gut.

As Aziraphale laughs, positing the question of the electronic bay and novelty rubber ducks to commemorate the occasion, Crowley raises his bottle of scotch to his lips, grinning around the rim.

“Angel, you really are the best of them, aren’t you?” he murmurs.

“What’s that?” Aziraphale asks, licking his lips absently. His face is flushed, slack and wide-eyed, and Crowley feels like he’s fumbled a play he’s practiced a thousand times.

He leans back against the sofa cushions and drapes one arm artfully over the edge. “You really bested them, didn’t you?” he says, and tries not to take it back the second Aziraphale’s brow crumples, lips pursed.

Crowley clears his throat and gestures with his bottle, knowing with absolute certainty that he’s missed a chance, a chance to do something real about the space—or lack of space—between them and what it means.

“I sssuppose,” he drawls, leaning hard on his drunkenness to hide his slip. “I can whip you up a rubber duck.”

And he does.

There are two, and if they bicker about who gets the one with the tartan bow tie, it really means that while everything has changed, they still, at their core, are the same.

NEXT >> 

1 It’s very wet. 2 That would be the splash tetra, Copella arnoldi. 3 He had been trying to explain the plot of Friends, while Aziraphale was trying to talk over him by doing a (bad) reading of Pericles, Prince of Tyre.

#good omens #Good Omens (2019) #Aziraphale #crowley #my fic #fanfic #HEY HOW ABOUT I USE THIS BLOG FOR WHAT IT'S FOR #I literally made this blog to post fic #I'm super late to crossposting this like I wanted to

[tiredassmage]

Betrayal, failure, and monster for the not-so nice OC asks. For Tyr!

[not-so-nice oc asks!]

These were all really good, so I'm warning now that I got... quite rambly about answering them. xD One of my favoritest guys ever, fr. Thank you for coming to my TED talk, etc etc lol

betrayal: Has your OC ever been betrayed by someone they thought they could trust? Has your OC ever betrayed someone who trusted them?

Oh, I am so glad you asked this one for him. One might say the surface-level answer is that betrayal is part of an agent's job, but there's some occasions I really want to dig my teeth into for this where some of Tyr's... surprises, shall we say, come across. This is gonna take us right into Imperial Agent chapter 2 spoilers, however, so beware those beneath the cut.

I can't resist starting with... the asterisk? The "should probably be the expected answer" that Tyr decided to fully turn on its head?

One deeply important thing about Tyr (and his perception of his own career) is that he chose, agreed to Imperial Intelligence, went through Academy training, and was thus... as prepared as one could fairly expect to be for the kind of half-truths and lies an operative can expect to both perpetuate and be expected to swallow as part of their job, he might say. Which is just... background to add flavor to the fact that Tyr cites his reason for joining Intelligence as something one might call a flavor of patriotism - a genuine drive to serve the greater good of the Empire's citizens. Something that is complicated by Tyr's distaste for stereotypical Sith in-fighting and powerplays, but I digress.

This point is really just when Tyr says, Imperial Intelligence never betrayed me, he does actually believe it. With his entire heart. And that won't actually change even as he learns more about the Castellans and what he's been subjected to.

Tyr's faith in Keeper (or rather, the Minister of Intelligence, as his role is at that point) is... not that the man is perfect and incapable of fault, but that the man's in a rather tight position and genuinely does what he can for his operatives, even with his hands tied behind his back. I guess you could call it a kind of "you couldn't hurt me in a way that matters," but like... meant as a positive?

Some might call that one hell of a mental gymnastics routine. Maybe it's because they're related, even if Tyr never fully realizes it, or maybe it's just really that Tyr's short on authority and parental figures that he can rely on, so he's willing to do a lot to hold on to the ones he feels he does have.

So, arguably, that doesn't particularly answer the question, but it does set-up that Tyr's... really fucking ride or die, at his core. Once he really commits to someone, it... well, frankly, it takes a lot to dethrone them from his confidence. Tyr never feels betrayed by Intelligence, even if you might argue he very well should. He feels hung out to dry for doing his job by the Sith and the Dark Council. And there isn't really arguing that Kaliyo has essentially toyed with selling him out for the equivalent of a bag of corn chips and some salsa, but, really, neither of them expected much more or less of each other, so Tyr doesn't... tend to be fussed about it, honestly.

I think the one that stings, really, is his... dynamic with Lana Beniko, really. I'd be tempted to say there's a lot about their relationship that isn't necessarily exactly either of them's fault and, ultimately, I'd say on most days, in the end, they're actually quite perceptive of one another's needs and the differences and bonds between them. What does make him feel betrayed by her is a little unfair in the sense that there's no real way she could have known at the time what kind of traumas she was touching him off on - and, frankly, they're not particularly great at ever clearing it up out of some sort of "mutual respect to not talk about the past" that does cause them a bit more trouble than boons at times. The short of that (in this... already very long ramble, oops) is that it's Rishi, and it's the matter of Theron Shan. And even without Tyr's growing affections for Theron by then, Lana getting Theron caught by the Revanites without forewarning him would have still shot their budding trust in the foot and it leaves them somewhat hobbled even to this day. It made Tyr want to throw his guards back up - it reminds him of Corellia (which was no vacation, sure, but it was an operation he was made well aware of what he was agreeing to when Shara sent him in), but what the real issue is is that it reminds him of Castellans, and of the very touchy "job security" he's not particularly had since Imperial Intelligence was cannibalized. One thing Tyr always has strong feelings about is that you take care of your own, that operatives aren't disposable for the sake of being disposable. Risks are inherent in this work. They hardly need to make them more prominent by holding knives to each other's throats for the slightest of inconveniences.

And that leaves me with the second question, which is... also maybe not as clean as an answer as it could be, lol. But to dig deeper than the surface level of the occupation's inherent moments, I think... the one that haunts me the most, and the one that haunts him, though he'd need to be forced to actually admit it and realize (let alone deal) with his feelings about it, is Shara - Watcher Two.

They never intend to hurt one another. Both of them realize in their relationship's infancy that it's an inherent possibility, maybe even a likelihood. What I think happens is they sort of... accidentally fall in love with a reflection of one another rather than... who ends up standing before them. And some of that - a lot of that, even - may well ride on Tyr. And what's left unsaid.

He never confronts her about the whole of the Castellans. He never even says to her that he knows - that's a secret he keeps between himself, his crew, and the old man, as far as the people who were there to live through it with him. Tyr never tells her he's made a deal with Ardun Kothe, that he's turned genuinely double agent for the SIS. I can't say with certainty it even... occurs to him to consider it.

Some of it is the relatively high certainty that, in the end, as things are, they're not likely to ever see each other again. They'll both be reassigned, if she continues work at all, and that means both of them have to say goodbye. It's better for both of them if she puts him from her mind, and he doesn't need or want to make that any harder for her.

Either of them.

And he's not convinced he'll ever actually make it out of the Empire. Most Ciphers don't survive five years of the work, after all. Certainly not Ciphers who have already once caught the ire of the Dark Council, despite their best intentions. There's few people Tyr genuinely holds close, and he wants to see none of them take the fall with him when the day comes that he finally pays the price for his betrayals.

Shara should've gotten out. At least one of them deserved it, as he'll tell the old man on Rishi. At least one of them actually made it. He hopes. He has to believe, in that moment.

Until that all falls apart when he sees her face on Nathema again, years later. And she calls him a liar - cites the Republic alignments of the Alliance - except it's not about that, is it? It's about trust. It's about working with someone so long that they knew the back of your hand as well as you - maybe even better. It was about, why didn't you ever tell me? That you were suffering, that you wanted to run? It's... it's if it was love, if we would've crossed galaxies for each other... why wasn't she invited to return the favor?

Something he'll never have the opportunity to try to explain now. Just the bitter-tasting realization that none of his answers would've sufficed anyway. In the end, he'll feel he robbed her of the one thing he's been so damn afraid of losing for so long: the chance to choose.

failure: What's your OC's greatest failure? Have they been able to move past it? Does anyone else know about it?

I think there's a part of him that would consider his greatest failure what we just covered: that one of the few people he'd relied on in one of the darkest times of his life, he'd betrayed, he'd hurt - in one of the gravest ways he's ever experienced hurt. And on that note, no, no one really knows about it. When he says his initial goodbyes to her after wrapping the Star Cabal operation, and then has to face repeating those goodbyes on Rishi, he bundles that part of himself and his experience up and sets it aside. What other choice does he have, really? It's safer that they never see one another again, and dwelling on it isn't going to change that.

He remembers her and their time together fondly, can be caught by later partners contemplatively watching rain droplets race each other down the windows at times during a storm, but he rarely makes an even indirect explanation of their relationship, let alone an explanation of it. He'd probably like to say there's nothing to be done about it now, so it doesn't matter, but that doesn't change the ache in his chest.

Aside from that, I think... there is genuinely a part of him that is realizing more and more that it's... it's not exactly great that he hasn't been able to get out. Maybe that's more in-line with greatest flaw, but... Tyr is the type to dress self-sacrifice as, if not a virtue, then just... a core of what he does, what he's meant to do. To be really bad at recognizing it's self-sacrifice.

And it's hard to miss the way he works, but... his own mindset isn't particularly good at saying no, enough, and... neither has the galaxy exactly been the most accommodating at telling him to quit already, lol. But... he's gotten more and more aware over the years - with age, with experience, with more and more wars under his belt - that it's not just himself he's harming with that kind of mentality. The very people he wants so badly to protect, to look after aren't having a great time watching him burn the candle from both ends, either. And he's... he wishes he was better at this also, really.

monster: Is your OC monstrous in any way? Is there something that makes them monstrous? Are they aware of their own monstrosity? Do they accept it or reject it?

I do spend a fair amount of time going on about how Tyr's actually an idealist, despite his consistent failure to fully recognize this, but I do also get reminded when I go back through chapter one with him that he's just as capable of calculated cold cuts as any Cipher. 'Monstrous' isn't something that'd come to mind for him, or as a descriptor of him coming from me, however.

If there's anything in this territory, it's that his more ruthless streak - that thread of him that's capable of channeling more Cipher Nine and less Tyr Deckard, agent of Imperial Intelligence, if you will - still slumbers, and still has a passing fancy for the false allure of vengeance, at times.

There is absolutely a part of him that could probably still be goaded to try burning the Empire and its systems down in a scorched earth blaze of glory. Tyr has almost always remembered that such tactics... never really worked. If they did, they wouldn't be in this war - or the last, or the one before it. They wouldn't have inherited the war of their fathers, and their fathers before them, and he wouldn't be facing down a galaxy that seems hellbent on leaving it to their children, either. The Republic has already tried to eradicate the Sith, and the Empire was still standing to make him an agent of it.

But there's that itch, still... it grows a bit quieter with each year, maybe - the seasonings of age and experience to temper its hiss. But the trigger itch to light a match and watch it burn for the way the Empire's eaten people up and discarded them - for that way it's used him. It's been tempting, at times. There's a reason he has such a damned hard time walking away when there's still fighting going. Even if he is starting to feel too old for this bullshit these days.

#answered #ch: tyr #imperial agent #this is. yeah this is. i really really rambled. i'm almost a little sorry lol #will never forgive this guy for having supposed to be 'just some guy' and then consuming my life for what. like 2 years at this point?? #i've lost track. i'm sure the timestamps exist. #love his ability to be such catnip to me he distracts me from doing other things. for him. with him. about him. because Him. #swtor ocs

[tiredassmage]

I’m potentially over-reading into this, though I’d argue if that’s even possible when you’re doing it to your own oc, but what I’ve found so intriguing staring down playthrough number three of my same damn agent (love you, Tyr, lmao) is the... smaller inconsistencies. I didn’t think too much on them going from first playthrough to replay because there’s a lot more understanding to be had once you’ve seen the story once, right?

Of course, these are replays because I enjoy how Tyr’s story plays out to begin with, so the overall theme is to remain consistent. But it’s interesting to see where he might waver on something - what particularly part of his training or ideology won out this time? The large story beats remain the same. The destination will always remain the same. He’ll still find the same flaws in it all at the end of the day. But there’s something so... human to watch the smaller moments where training, pragmatism, and idealism all weigh in on him. And it always stands out the most to me in Chapter One. Where everything is still a choice. A conscious choice made before things have really made him question his loyalty.

Does he take a man at his word to spare his life and additional pain from being pried open for information against his will? Does he think farther ahead with Watcher X to the potential security risk that involves? That someone might walk way knowing his face, too much information about what he knows before they can strike at the Eagle’s network? Is that risk acceptable? Is it enough of a risk to cross that boundary anyway? What’s the justification of the day for the areas where he bends? Where he doesn’t?

It’s so important to the core of him that there’s always an element of willing participation and choice in the matter so early on. When he’s still afforded the agency and autonomy of an operative expected to be able to think for themselves in the field and make split second decisions, he’s willing to make bends on his personal lines for the “greater good.” It’s interesting to see how much harder he leans into those personal boundaries, that personal sense of right and wrong, when things start to go wrong and control is taken out of the equation against his will. How much less willing he is to compromise. How the loyal, if somewhat idealistic hound learns to test the sharp snap of the leash a bit more actively.

He walks the line between awareness of all of these higher pressures and quiet obedience so carefully in Chapter One. He tells Watcher X he’s not interested in conspiracy theories, that he’s loyal and he “knows” what he signed up for joining Intelligence in one breath and cedes in the next that, regardless of their agreements or otherwise, the choice is already made. Even if he took the offer to walk away, that’s not an option. Intelligence would intercede. He’s not blind to the whispers of truth in the former asset’s words. He’s not naive enough to think he’s any safer from such a fate - none of them ever are and Tyr always knew that. He reasoned he was willing to live with it, for as long as it would last. After all, most Ciphers don’t survive past year five.

Knowing it and living it are just several levels of hell apart. No matter how honest Academy training is or isn’t about all of the risks, it’d never be enough. It isn’t. It never willingly would be.

Fuck, I love agents....

#dot talk #ch: tyr #i'm sure i'll come back to this when its not 2:30 am but like. preliminary thoughts i needed to get down out of my noggin before i sleep #squeezes him like a squish mallow. love this man.

[tiredassmage]

Glass case of emotions, but also Tyr under the microscope again, I still have no answers. Only many thoughts. Maybe some vague insight extrapolated from... whatever the fuck is going on in this. No promises though.

Hottest rotating record at the moment is... the unintentional(?) mirror Tyr’s developed. The emotional damage uncovered in this answer (last question in particular) hasn’t weakened in persistence and I’m suffering from the realization that it’s... how Tyr’s relationship with both the Minister and Ardun Kothe ultimately plays out.

They’re father figures. They’re his mentors. He respects them. They made mistakes. They speak in veils and out of the corners of their mouths and only in private about the depth of the relationship. Explicitly, that bond doesn’t get stated. While they did what they could, maybe it didn’t save him. They ran as much damage control as they could.

Tyr has never been able to explicitly trust someone. Even in family, there was always a purpose to interactions. Can I really be surprised then that, even with someone he loves, he would think “duplicity in the name of the greater good” is viable? Is it really any or such a surprise that he’s willing to remold himself for a cause, to make ends meet, even if it scares him that he has no good answer for who he is, what he values at the core?

It’d maybe almost scare him that he’s willing to mutate and mutilate what those values are for the sake of another, so that they don’t have to. He’s not a perfect ideal, but what he keeps fighting for.. Ideals. Ideas. Are people really grounding points if he’s willing to risk himself for the goal? So uncompromising, yet so, so malleable.

They’re, of course, not the only contributing factors, but I’m a little not okay about it all, lmao.

But the care that’s still there!!!! Acknowledging their missteps. The indirect recognition of their similarities. Idk where I’m going anymore, like three directions at once, probably.

Possibly the one glaring difference between Tyr and the two men he considers mentors and father figures is that he chose Intelligence. The Minister describes it as an initial “distraction” to his military career. Ardun was a Jedi mentions the change, that maybe whoever he was as a Jedi isn’t compatible with who we meet as the SIS operative. Tyr, however, was offered a place among Imperial Intelligence’s ranks and didn’t hesitate.

As Keeper, the old man muses that he’s perhaps idealistic. He believes in serving the Empire, though Keeper’s worries about not being wholly prepared for the bleaker reality of that task are semi-misplaced just as much as they are ultimately wholly accurate. Tyr isn’t as blindly rose-tinted about it as he could be, but what he goes through is still more than enough. (Something something prepared for it to not be a beautiful oil painting, still incapable of ever being prepared for just how deep the rabbit hole went and, really, could you expect anybody to be that prepared without a heapload of prior digging?)

Anyway, what he did believe - what proves to be so idealistic is genuinely working for that checks and balances. That the purpose of having something like Intelligence at all was to defend the Empire and its people. It’s shredded, like so many other similar efforts, by the infighting and the power plays. Absolute destruction within their own borders does naught to stay devastation, so why would it be any different against their enemies?

It crops up again in one of those last conversations - goals instead of ideals.

How to heart did he take that advice? Lokin and Tyr never grow particularly close, but there’s almost never been a finer assessment than how he walks a thin line - Lokin says between “ingenuity and obedience,” I believe. Some mutation of ideals and goals seem to be the basis of Tyr’s bottom lines - what very few it seems he’s capable of holding to.

The standards for him, for Cipher Nine, have always been shifting, changing, mutable, amorphous - the inescapable nature for being a librarian and keeper of secrets for a career, so he continues to inflict such upon himself.

On one hand, maybe it’s one of the only supporting beams that keeps something as ludicrous as challenging the would-be immortal once-Emperor of the Sith within this realm of “why the cursed hell not as if we weren’t already all insane enough” instead of sending him running or cowering like maybe anyone with an ounce of good sense would. What’s a wayward rogue operative with a blaster against one of the most powerful Force users that ever lived?

Tired of your damn shit apparently is what he is.

He can’t think too hard about his problems and I can’t think too hard about his problems. He’d probably have a breakdown if he did and I’m left here making concerned scientist faces at the complex jigsaw puzzle I just found under the rug and maybe he does have the right idea, what if we left that there kaldnflkadfnla;dsfnldsf

#literally lost the plot of my thoughts about halfway through this so??? #idk it makes sense in my HEAD #but also it doesn't bc this bastard can't make sense of himself so good fuckin luck to the rest of us kadnfladnsf #ch: tyr #how do i even tag this microscope experiment #just. thinking about how he continues to keep messing with fire and poking him about why

[tiredassmage]

Hear, see, and speak no evil (the monkey emojis lol) from the OC ask game?

Tyr gave me such a FIT over these, okay? Naturally, I had to bother him to be stubborn, but woof. This was a bit of a heavy one.

I feel like he needs a sticker warning about... veering a bit dangerously close to that self-sacrifice (aside, I read that back in HK's voice and now I'm just. sighs @ myself) is the answer thing, but... he doesn't quite cross that line. He just. Flirts with it. A lot. Without telling anyone else. I don't know, he's just kfnalskdfnlsaf. Keysmashing. It isn't the answer. He theoretically knows this. Theoretically.

This will not stop him from making fucking stupid decisions. Send help. For me or him? Yes.

My poor little glowstick 😔 smth smth his arresting looks and layered identity crises have captivated me, etc etc

Hear-no-evil: What is the worst thing your oc could hear from someone?

It was all a lie and you are alone.

This was the trickiest one, honestly. Tyr takes a lot not exactly on the chin, but... He’s good at… pretending he’s fine, really. He conceals. He swallows. Because it’s part of how you could survive living with the Sith watching your every move. Tyr says one of his worst fears is to lose the few people he cares about - and, to an extent, it is.

But he also spent a while without being able to fully, genuinely rely on others. He’ll fight ‘til he’s worn down to the bone to protect those people, but the inner, ‘uglier’ (I’m stumbling to find a better word) realist in him recognizes its always a possibility. Forever’s not a guarantee. Especially when your husband’s also a spy.

“We’ll take everything from you” isn’t an unfamiliar threat. Hunter made it and made all but complete good on it. I think they succeeded a bit more than Tyr will ever want to admit; the interlude period between Chapter 3 and… even as late as Shadow of Revan? Tyr doesn’t trust almost anyone. It’s hard to completely trust even someone like Vector because he did, in a sense, lose everything. It’s not that Vector got any less trustworthy and more that Tyr was painfully aware how thin the ice underneath his feet was and how dark the waves were beneath it. He’d never want to drag anyone else into that.

But a betrayal, an abandonment by the extremely few people he’s tried so hard to let in, whom he’s trusted enough to try to figure himself out in front of? That’d cut him to the core.

It's also probably worth noting that while he doesn't exactly refrain from speaking his mind all the time with Sith, there is always an apprehensive tremor that runs through him about it. Lana may be the only eventual exception because they ultimately finally find ground as equals, but that back of the mind knowledge of being undone with no power to change or stop it never leaves. Acina's scathing Intelligence should have retired you when they had the chance! from Iokath clocks quite high on the list of things that dealt way, way more damage than Tyr has ever talked about or admitted to. That was a sore one on multiple levels and, as John Mulaney says, we just don't have time to unpack all of that.

Is what Tyr maintains about it, anyway. [inhales] Boy.

See-no-evil: What's a side of your oc that they don't want to show to other people?

Alright, okay, you got me, this one was also rather difficult, largely because his “sides” aren’t that well-defined - rather nebulous and shifting like dissipating fog. And it’s different for different people - which, obvious, I suppose, but particularly complicated given how much Tyr walks a tightrope through intrigue and opposition for so long.

Ultimately though, I don’t think he really wants to share just how far he’d be willing to go - the risks and compromises he is willing to put himself through. He doesn’t shy away from this, per se - I have written him practically verbatim telling Malavai Quinn he’d tear the Empire down to the foundations with his bare hands if that’s what it takes (and a 'same scenario, different take' version where he admits basically the same to Vector; one day maybe I'll finish either of them, F). But saying it and enacting it in front of these few souls who care so much for him, have come so far at his side are two drastically different things.

It won’t necessarily be enough to stop him, I don’t think. He still can’t see it, won’t admit it, but Tyr is dreadfully dedicated to his ideals at times. And he’s willing to wade through blood and plasma bolts to get there if he needs to. Ideals they may be, but this world has never been spotlessly idealistic. That makes him no less willing to fight for it though.

He doesn’t even quite acknowledge this as much as he maybe should to himself. Just another part of Cipher Nine, mayhap, that he won’t dare to wake until he’s necessary.

Speak-no-evil: What is something your oc will refuse to remain quiet about?

Haha, maybe all of this was just building to this kanfdlkadnslf!

Alright. Boy’s really keen to talk back to their pretentious Sith overlords about the value of mere “pawns” like himself, no matter that it continues to kind of genuinely startle him probably… until he has to deal with Valkorian on a daily basis and it finally wears the edge off (because that shit’s gotta be exhausting, what energy is left over to worry about the consequences?).

Because while he talks back somewhat often for an operative that’s all too well aware that they’re living and serving on borrowed graces and he wouldn’t change this, necessarily, he still knows a little too consciously that he’s playing with fire. He just… continues to choose to do so. To say it’s because he knows his work is necessary overstates his confidence of his position. He’s really not that confident about it. It’s just… he’s tired? Tired of trying to please while trapped in the constraints of a web. The Dark Council’s already proven they don’t trust his judgement or his loyalties and that’s what gives him a reason to genuinely question those loyalties so far as to actually break them.

The way he sees it is kind of that he’s already been a target. He has just enough of a reputation to turn heads when he speaks up, so he can’t, in whatever good conscious may be left to him, stand by silently. It happens with Lord Razer, it happens on Makeb when he talks the mission over with Darth Marr, and it, in a sense, happens on the Dominator against Darth Jadus. It definitely happens with Lana on Rishi. If there’s a single consistency to Tyr, it’s that he stands by people he cares about even a little - no matter how fucking blind he is to that quality. He’s been around the Empire long enough to know more than enough about what it’s like to be thought of as a means to an end first and anything else - friend, citizen, ally, what have you - second. That’s not acceptable to him. He’s not a spy or a soldier to spread fear and destruction. That is the cursed domain of the Sith. He signed on to look after things - people. And if they’re not doing that, then the system’s gone wrong. That’s supposed to be their jobs, their purpose. And his passion for that will always overrule any apprehensive notion of self-preservation in the face of a loosened Sith lord. Because if he doesn’t stand ground there, who will? How do you change the precedent if you’re not willing to make that change?

So, really, in short... double-edged character traits and Tyr, I guess. x,D He fascinates me. I love him. I pity him. I want him to get better and I'm going to watch him possibly get worse akldnfldsanfsdf. He's got such a Pandora's Box thing going on and idk if any of us are ready for him to actually recognize that, ignorance might genuinely be bliss klfdsalkn; or at least... maybe a little less emotionally damaging. If still potentially incredibly self-destructive. Stars help him.

#answered #ch: tyr #swtor ocs #i'm staring at him under a microscope is he uncomfortable yet? very likely #the amount of a lil fucked up he is when i pull back some of his defenses is a little like!!! yikes!!! you okay bestie!!!! he's so not!!! #i love him i do he just has SO many problems my GOD #imperial agent #dial it back my boy go pet a fluffy critter i hear they're good for the happy chemicals #genuinely i need this man to adopt his random alley cat and finally take his cat and his husband and fuck off this is for your health tyr

[tactyl-ymon]

DnD session recap - Towers and Tribulations

Guess who’s bad at doing things? It’s me! Hence why I’m currently 3 sessions behind on these writeups and this one’s taken me too damn long to finish this one.

We start the session with everyone wandering back towards the main city and splitting up for now, Drackuss goes to spend the night at his favourite temple where he has a free room, Eridol and Merla are camping in the forest outside of town because of the whole “Merla’s wanted for murder” thing and the rogues trudge back to the barracks to crash for the night. Partway through the night, Emmi gets woken up by Eridol and Merla’s dogs, Pickle and Flufferbuns, scratching at one of the bedroom doors upstairs. She decides to let them in because it’s not her room if they destroy anything. Pickle goes and sits on Eridols bed like the good boy he is, but Flufferbuns gets a whiff of something that reminds her of Merla and starts digging at the floor, this of course gets Emmi’s attention so she dramatically rips the rug off the floor and sees the slightly warped floorboard that Flufferbuns has started pawing at. Cracking it open she finds a very bloodsoaked blanket hastily hidden in the floor. So the obvious thoughts come to mind “This must be Merla’s … but Merla’s too proud and not smart enough to hide something like this. Eridol’s hiding something” So with this knowledge she replaces the floorboard and takes the blanket to the only other lawful person on the squad, Drackuss to figure out what to do about it.

After climbing the frankly ludicrous amount of stairs to the temple, she finds Draccus deep in prayer and offers up the mystery she’s found. A blood soaked blanket, hidden by one of the tiny folk in the group. Either it’s got something to do with Merla or Eridol’s been taking his frustrustrations out on something and trying to hide it. Drackuss looks at all the available information and decides they’ll get their answers in the morning, satisfied with that plan, Emmi heads back to the barracks to sleep and we get to spend some time with the tiny ones in the forest. Eridol and Merla have a quick heart to heart about how Merla’s doing with the whole murder thing and it’s starting to sink in that there’s no getting her way out of this, Eridol sadly brings up that actions have consequences and we need to be held accountable for what we do, even if he understands why she did it. With this final nail in the coffin, Merla breaks into a sprint to escape her friend turned reluctant prison guard. By the time Eridol realises, she’s out of the way of most of his abilities. In a panic he releases a guiding bolt, which hits too true and causes Merla to trip over a root ... sending her neck first onto her axe. After a string of gnomish cursing he runs over and stabilises her before getting in touch with Core to fill him in on the attempted escape and very near murder. Receeving instructions to tie her up and bring her to the gates, Eridol strips Merla of the majority of her weapons and begins carrying her towards town. Feeling deeply conflicted between following the teaching of his god which require justice above all else and having had attacked someone he cares deeply about, Eridol doesn’t notice Merla slipping her bonds and taking off into the woods until it’s too late and she’s too far away to catch up. He sends a bolt of divine energy after her knowing full well it’ll dissipate before reaching her. With a solitary fuck and his fondness for a friend winning over his sense of duty to Tyr he sits down in the road and for the second time since waking up in a prison cell with no memories, Eridol fully opened himself up to Tyr to meditate on whether he did the right thing trying to stop Merla. Drifting off, he finds himself surrounded by an expansive white void, he blinks and before him is a monumental set of scales unmoving as a statue. Perfectly balanced and behind it a single, all encompassing blue eye staring down on the frightened gnome. It takes 30 minutes to come out of the trance, ample time for Merla to have made an escape. Eridol gets up and wanders back to Principium. He meets Core at the town gates and mumbles that Merla got away before straight up lying to the government official about not knowing which way she went. Eridol shrugs off Merla’s pack and her axe, gives them to Core and wordlessly heads back to the barracks and oozes into his bunk to sleep off that “I nearly murdered someone I care about then had to face down my divine sugar daddy to see if I made the right choice” migraine. He awakens to the telltale sound of Drackuss stomping towards his door wearing full armor, fighting the instinct to grab his weapon Eridol stands and really hopes his trust in Drackuss can outweigh his fear at being cut down by that flaming sword again. The door slams open and the ever imposing figure of Drackuss fills the frame, Eridol stamps down his fear before noticing the slightly less imposing figure of Emmi behind Drackuss. They know about the bloody blanket under the floor and that Merla didn’t put it there, they need answers. WIth no reason to hide it anymore, Eridol tells them the truth. He found Merla had used the blanket to wipe off her axe after killing that peasant, he was going to look into it when he had a chance but they had to all leave in a hurry for their last assignment so he hid it so Merla couldn’t get rid of it in the mean time ... but that’s not really of use anymore and he retells how Merla failed to run before succeeding to run away. Everyone receives a message from Core to meet him later in the day and we all get dressed up to head over. With a quick stop over at a local tavern, eager to get drunk enough to deal with whatever fresh hell Core points us towards and never talk about it ever again. We enter to find Veiraen already there making a scene trying to swindle some drunk out of their money before he comes over and with the deftest of fingers manages to steal a control to what equates to a fantasy shock collar he’s currently wearing before legging it out the door with a cheeky grin and a brief “Fill me in later” before setting off for solo shenanigans. Knowing nobody can catch the man when he’s like this, we settle in to have a few drinks to generally grumble about life which leads to drunkenly exclaiming that Core is secretly a devil and an argument over what kind of devil he would be. This gets the attention of a particular dwarf sitting at the bar, a wizard named Tornur specialising in transmutation who up until this morning had been working for the large fight pits in the city helping to maintain their incredibly complicated magical fields but had been sequestered by our wonderful sorcerer patron for an unspecified amount of time

We drunkenly accept the newcomer for a few rounds before heading off to Core’s place for our next group assignment. Which is very similar to the last assignment, head back to the mistress’ underground temple and finish the last ritual to unlock the towers of perdition and hopefully find a way out of the country before population control becomes a necessity. But first some good news! For everything we’ve done so far, Core has gotten the ruling council to agree to give us a plot of land and have a keep built, he just needs everyone to sign some paperwork first to say we agree and being the drunkards most of us are, Emmi, Eridol and Drackuss eagerly sign and cojole Tornur into signing as well. With all the members of Tacty’l Ymon who were present signed and accounted for we head off back to an accursed underground temple that was used by a weird hag and several cultists which is a sobering enough thought to ward off the booze haze everyone except Drackuss was in on the way there. We make our way towards the underground temple in relative silence to finish what we started. A ritual to possibly find a way out of the country, the ritual goes off perfectly and everyone feels a earth shattering kaboom as somewhere in the country, a gleaming tower appears in an instant. Everyone treks back to the city and Core once again tries to get Eridol to open up about the frankly worrying amount of emotional stress he’s putting on himself and receives a quiet “There’s more important things to worry about”  before Eridol moves further away from everyone.

As we exit one of the large forests between the towns, we see it. A single break in the horizon, impossibly tall even at this distance. A tower of perdition. With nothing else to go on, we trudge towards the tower and the small crowd of people who had come to see the new addition to the landscape, a flash of Core’s credentials and the gawkers disperse as we enter the tower to a frankly underwhelming experience. The tower is a singular room containing the usual stuff you expect in an interdimensional hell tower, some books, a skeleton, a stone well, a weirdly animated brick that paralyses whatever it touches. You know. Stuff. As we all look around, Tornur finds a hidden compartment with a singular vial of pearlescent liquid inside and calls it out to everyone. Core demands that Tornur gives it to him immediately, going so far as trying to snatch it out of the dwarfs hands. Without hesitation, Tornur refuses and asks what it could be to get Core so possessive. Core says he doesn’t have time for this and points Drackuss towards our new companion with a dismissive “Get the vial and don’t kill him”. Before anyone else can react, Drackuss has his flaming sword out and strikes Tornur across the side of the head. The distinctive flair of divine magic empowering his strike and making the damage so much worse. Drackuss peels the red hot steel out off Tornur’s fractured skull, taking several sheets of flesh off the mortally wounded dwarf as it goes.

In the few seconds it takes Eridol to make his way over, he is already chanting words as he transfers part of his essence into Tornur. He gives more than he means to in a panic. But still bone fuse, muscle repairs and breath returns until all that is left of the wound is a large red band of scarring running mostly into the dwarfs hairline. Drackuss hands the vial over to Core and apologises to Tornur, he didn’t mean for that to be so much. Core explains that this is a vial of allmagic. Highly unstable, transformative, concentrated magic that shouldn’t be able to exist and is too dangerous to be left in unprepared hands. While the fantasy Mexican standoff eases up between the men, Emmi is searching the room and finds something in the well that gets everyones attention. A figure made of a silvery liquid appears and exits the well. Calling themselves a slyph and asking who wishes to partake,  we have a maddeningly circular conversation with the being who gets the majority of the group to let her test if they are able to travel except Eridol who thinks someone should not let the weird water person mess with their head that they met 5 minutes ago in the weird otherworldly tower. The slyph mentions that this continent was quarantined from the material plane centuries ago for reasons beyond their knowledge, but for a price she can allow travel. With this, everyone decides to break for the night. Tornur and Core return to the city to finish some business and research their respective needs while Drackuss, Emmi and Eridol stay in the tower for the night as security. While Drackuss and Eridol take turns whipping coins and books down the well to pass the time, Emmi dreams of her life.

A silhouetted figure she knows is her mother

A broken ship sinking into the ocean

Things slipping away under a veil of magic

#dnd recap #dnd #Tactyl Ymon