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spacebarbarianweird · 4 months

Note

headcanons or one-shot (pick your poison!) of astarion and gn!tav celebrating midwinter/winter solstice together? technically, it does exist as a holiday in the forgotten realms! blessed yule as well! :D

I suppose this prompt can't wait forever so here we are. A short fluffy drabble.

Prompt ✶New Beginnings✶ for BG3 Winter Holiday Challenge

Thanks @bhaalbaaby for beta-reading! Especially for re-writing some sentences!

I fucked a bit and didn't notice the requester asked specifically for gn!reader and did f!reader as usual. So, this one is f!reader and I will do gn! later

Winter Solstice

Synopsis: Astarion and Tav spend Winter Solstice in the northern town of Firesheer, and the subject of marriage comes up.

Tags: fluff, comfort

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

You are freezing.

You've never been so far to the north, and you have never understood why people were afraid of winters.

Now, you do.

It's Nightal, 20. The longest night of the year. And probably the coldest, because the only thing you can think of, is how to get inside the inn and hide under fur blankets.

Till snow melts.

You look around. People of Firesheer are festive as if the cold doesn't bother them. They sing and dance, resting after months of hard work in the mines.

You put your hand inside the pockets of your traveler fur coat, golden coins jingling in the pockets. The only redeemable quality about this frozen hell is the danger always lurking. The city is always under attack: orcs, crag cats, giants. Though citizens have their army, they don't mind paying adventurers rather than risking their own people.

"Bracelets! Rings! Necklaces! All of the finest copper and silver!" A dwarf shows you his goods, "Take a look, traveler!"

You look disinterested as you take a look at the jewelry, shrugging at the selection.. You can wear silver things, but Astarion won't talk to you anymore if you put on something like that. Meanwhile copper... He would find it dull.

"No, not interested."

"This is copper of the best quality! Will last for generations!"

You chuckle. There is a very popular joke about things made by dwarves. They think humans are dumb to buy something that lasts only for four generations. Forgetting that the human generation lasts less than a century.

"Look at these bronze rings. They are engraved with protective runes!"

The ring is simple. but there is something elegant, something powerful about it. You look at the runes - "protection", "love", and "safety".

"I will take this one", you say.

"Oh no," the dwarf laughs. "This is a wedding ring, you need two. Unless there are more people involved."

And before you manage to object, both rings are placed in your palm.

And why in nine hells did you decide to buy them?

You've never discussed marriage with Astarion. Boundaries? Traumas? Feelings? Yes. Sometimes, you talk about the future. But such things as marriage never came to your mind.

You have no idea what he thinks about it. You have no idea what you think about it.

But now you have two wedding rings in your pocket. Dwarven bronze will last for centuries.

You look around, trying to notice the familiar silver curls. Astarion has gone to see the ocean at sunset, and you agreed to meet in the city at midnight.

“Darling, there is something utterly nightmarish about a dark cold ocean."

You refused to go. Astarion is already dead - he can even swim there if he desires (the ocean isn't running water, so he will be fine). You, on the other hand, want to keep this heart beating.

Suddenly, a drunk man blocks your way.

"Leave me alone," you mutter, putting a hand on your dagger hidden below the cloak.

"Why is a beautiful woman alone? It's a sin to be on your own at the Winter Solstice."

You step back. The man is much bigger than you, but he can barely stand on his feet. If you were out of the city, you could snatch your dagger - but within the walls, fighting isn't wise.

"So, what d'ya think, pretty girl?" he reaches out for your chin, but before his dirty hand touches your skin, the man is pulled away from you.

"Hands away from my wife", Astarion hisses. "Or I will turn you inside out and feed the crag cats!"

The man recoils. "I-I beg your pardon, didn't know she is... taken."

"Fuck off," Astarion is quiet, but you know - one false move and the vampire will rip his throat.

The man stumbles and walks away as fast as he can. “Thanks”, you mutter, still feeling scared. "How was the ocean?"

"Dark. Cold. Frightening," He wraps his hand around your waist and tugs you closer. There is something possessive in this gesture. You don't mind. "Come on, we have the longest night ahead!"

You shiver. Night plans are set in stone. Astarion cherishes the nights when he can walk freely and see the world not hiding in shadows, and he rarely wants to walk alone. Besides, you already abandoned him when he went to the seashore. You can't leave him alone again for the rest of the night.

You walk through the city square. The songs are loud and lively, and the festive mood warms you up. Or maybe this is Astarion's presence. You plant a kiss on his cheek and notice he stiffens.

"Let's go somewhere less crowded," you suggest.

Maybe he is afraid people will notice he is a vampire. Maybe big crowds remind him of his hunting spots - who knows how many drunk idiots he would drag to their deaths during the same festivals.

You walk together in silence until the houses disappear. The winds howl like hungry wolves. The snow reaches up to your ankles.

Astarion kneels and you notice he tries to make a snowball but the snow crumbles in his hands.

"I see what you are doing," You say, "Don't you dare"

"I was just touching snow," He smiles innocently.

You put your hands deeper into the pockets and feel the bronze rings. Wedding rings.

"When that man approached me, you called me your wife."

Astarion turns away as if trying to see something in the distance. "Never mind, just slipped off my tongue."

"Why did you call me that?"

"I am sorry to have offended you with such vulgar words."

"That’s not what I mean. Just weird, considering we have never officiated anything."

"Do you want me to kidnap a cleric and make him marry us? I don't know... I just... " he sighs. "We sleep together. You care about me, and I care about you. I want to be with you until your mortal days are over or until I am killed by some monster hunter."

"And how long have you seen me as your wife?"

He shrugs. "The night in the graveyard, when I realized I'd never truly experienced real lovemaking? When you found me in that cellar, hiding from the sun, and kissed away my fears and pain? One of those nights when I woke you up, screaming, and you held me until the nightmare finally let me go? What about you? Have you ever thought about me as your husband?"

"I mentally married you when you tried to slice my throat. But, I realized you were mine when I noticed you standing between me and danger for the first time,” You say, stepping closer to your love.

“So, what now?" he asks.

You grin, playfully pushing Astarion into the snow. He either expects that or simply decides to play along.

You straddle Astarion, taking in his expression. He smiles - a very rare joyful smile when he doesn't try to pretend or to laugh things away. It's the real him you saw for the first time on his grave. It's the real him you see in the darkness of the tent when he thinks you are still asleep. The real him who somehow survived his own death.

"What are you up to, little pet?" he grins.

You snatch the rings from your pocket, quickly taking his left hand.

"Will you marry me?"

You wait for his reaction. Sometimes even the most sincere forms of affection cause him mental pain, and he locks himself inside the shell. Once, he couldn't bring himself to talk to you because you tried to force him to stay inside the tent during a snowstorm.

Maybe it's too much, you think, ready to let him go. It's not like he doesn't like being dominated by you, but it depends on his mood.

"How could I say no?" He grins, allowing you to put the ring on.

You giggle like a little girl, leaning down to kiss him.

"There is supposed to be a second one," He notices when you pull away.

You give him the other ring, and he graciously takes your hand. Before putting the ring on it, he kisses your wrist and pierces it a bit with his fangs.

You sit like that for a while, looking at each other. Gods, does he even know how truly beautiful he is?

Your love. Your man. Your husband.

The winds howl again, and you shiver.

"Seldarine. Why didn't you tell me you are so cold?"

"Didn't want to ruin the longest night for you."

"Really? So you decided to ruin the next two weeks for me because you will get sick, and I will have to take care of you?” he chuckles. “Besides, we are married now, and I don't have any excuse to leave you!"

"Oh, I would never think I was such a burden to my husband!" you pout.

The next moment you are in his hands. You love being carried like that, especially knowing you are weightless to him.

"You are the most insufferable sweet burden I've ever wished to have, my little wife," he kisses you. "I suggest we return to the inn and consummate our marriage."

You giggle again and wrap your hands around his neck.

"As long as you offer me a hot bath as a wedding gift."

"It absolutely can be arranged, my dear!"

Nightal ("The Drowing Dawn") - the last month of the year. Winter Soltice is celebrated on Nightal, 20.

Firesheer - a mining city in the Frozenfar in northwest Faerûn

Seldarine (Elven) - Gods

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @astarion-beloved @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati

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animehouse-moe · 9 months

Text

Chainsaw Man Chapter 137: Chu Chu Lovely Muni Muni Mura Mura

Oh what, you thought we were going to be thought provoking and actually dive into Denji's struggle as a character through a normal lens? Ha-ha, you fool! You fell victim to one of the classic blunders, the most famous of which is “Never get involved in a land war in Asia,” but only slightly less well known is this: "Never expect Fujimoto to be normal".

The whole chapter is expectation subversion, which perfectly captures both Fujimoto's sense of humor, and his absolute desire for b-list and camp. I mean, just look at how we open, Denji giving a surprisingly long winded (for him) monologue about maturing past the point of taking whatever kind of affection he can.... before it's revealed that it's all in his head and he's sucking on a dead devil.

In all honesty though, this is rather unironically an important moment for Denji. Why? Because he knows better. He himself understands the situation that he's in, that he should be better than what he's doing, that he shouldn't be caving to the whims and mockery of a girl offering an empty promise. But he can't stop himself. He's so far below rock bottom in this moment that it doesn't matter if it's a lie, it doesn't matter if she's hazing him. What matters is that she's giving him attention, and a chance to delude himself from his current station in life.

Anyways, the pair go to a karaoke place and the girl gets going on a song, leading to probably one of Fujimoto's best action sequences in all of part 2 now.

And no, it's not the action itself that makes this an incredible moment, it's quite literally everything else. Denji fell for the trap, he took it hook, line, and sinker and is now stuck fighting off a small army of men with baseball bats while the girl sings an absolute rager in the background. The entire setup is just incredible, the sheer thrill that both viewers and Denji alike feel from the moment is impeccable, and it ends the chapter on just the right note.

I mean, look at this, the pile of bodies littering the hallway, the three panel shot of Denji's face, the matchup to end the chapter. Absolutely masterclass Fujimoto work on display.

I'd really like to take a closer look at Denji's reaction (and all the guys with bats too). These three panels give sort of a double meaning to Denji's character, in my opinion. The first, is self-deprecating humor at the fact that he ever thought he might stand a fraction of a snowball's chance in hell for the trap to not be a trap. And the second, well the second is Denji finding that Chainsaw Man spark again. Pure unadulterated violence, the feeling of superiority, of a challenge or uphill fight laid against him. Denji's in his element now, and that's dangerous for our girl here.

Anyways, the guys with bats. Very funny idea considering the girl "gets around", so seeing a lineup of guys appear with bats while Denji and this girl are on a "date" is a pretty good type of humor.

Overall, for how insane this chapter is, it's exactly what Denji needed. He needed to be beat down, he needed to feel that desperation, he needed to remember who he is. That even if he goes to school now, even if he has a little sister and a house and food and all sorts of stuff, that the part of him that became Chainsaw Man is still a part of Denji. That they're two sides of the same coin. That he's still strong and capable and dangerous, and that he can keep chasing all the dreams he could ever want.

#chainsaw man #csm pt 2 #chainsaw man manga #csm manga #chainsaw man part two #chainsaw man part 2 spoilers #csm part 2 #csm part two #csm spoilers #csm denji #csm yoshida #manga recommendation #manga review #anime and manga #manga

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halibellecter · 6 months

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Is That You?

"Is that you in the picture?"

"Yeah. But I mean we're not supposed to talk about that stuff-- so what can I do for you?"

And she's not lying. It is her in the picture...

So far she's headed off every opportunity to ask, oh, is that your husband? is that your daughter in the middle? look at you, you look so happy!

She's in the picture. But she's in the middle, about nine and a half, long braid decorated with little dragonfly clips. Between her mom-- she's the spitting image-- and dad, one of the last pictures of all of them together. You can't see their faces too well, they're scrunched up with laughter. Both of them are tickling her and she's shrieking and wiggling all over the place; it's a wonder the picture isn't more blurry than it is already, her hands and feet smearing details that get dimmer every time she tries to remember what they were.

Her father's next deployment ended, just a few days early and already on the return trip, with her being handed a smartly folded flag that her mother was crying too hard to take. She was ten.

Mom had lasted for another four short years after Dad died. Four years where they barely spoke-- not angry, just busy. Mom was already a successful doctor, already more dedicated than most. Being the single income must have been a good excuse, because she threw herself into her work. Kay-- no, no, not Kayla, no, the person that would be Agent Oklahoma, eventually, proto-agent, not-yet-medic, freelancer-in-the-future, to be worth something later on-- she-- already barely saw her. Between a dad on active duty in the army, and a mom with such a demanding job, she was a career latchkey kid; but sometimes after he died, she could go for weeks without direct contact. It almost seemed like her mom liked it that way. Looking back on it, home must have hurt.

If she'd known she only had four years left with her...

Just like her father, she was on the way home when she died. So close to home-- familiar territory. Got tired and fell asleep at the wheel. Kayla-- no, no, no! that girl, had been on the phone with her. Trying to keep her awake. It's blurry now but she can remember her desperate, raw-throated screaming and the crunch of metal and... and her mother's voice, a little choking whisper. Baby I'm so sorry. I'm not going to make it, there's too much blood. Sweetheart I love you---

But she tries to remember how lucky she is: unlike with her father, at least she got to say goodbye.

They're so happy in the picture.

The challenge coin leaning against the frame was what finally trained her out of that bad habit she used to have where she got attached to other people. A close friend. Nearly a brother. A safe place after the accident, the one who scooped her up and held her as she cried herself out into his chest. He had been all she had left.

If she squeezes the coin hard enough, her pulse throbs in her fingers like his heart thumped under her ear that night. And a lot of nights afterward. They joined up together; they were practically fused at the hip. He was a medic like her, a brilliant fighter, a...

a credit to his unit, and to the UNSC.

The words echo when she remembers them, engraved on her bones on the day they laid him in the ground. The person who loved anyone enough to cry over them like that no longer exists.

Is that you?

Yeah. Well. Not anymore.

#sad #very sadness #rvb fic #angst with extra angst on the side #freelancer oc #agent oklahoma

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seoul-bros · 1 year

Text

Jimin FACE Master List

Master Lists

FACE in the Press Master List

Set Me Free Part 2 Master List

Others

Billions Club

Like Crazy hits 1 billion

Fools for Jimin

Beat Coin

BLVSH celebrating the one year anniversary of Like Crazy

FACE live highlights

Congratulations Jimin! One year with FACE!

One year on!

Big Week for Jimin on the Charts

FACE Spotify Hero Film

FACE on UK iTunes

Letter on Vinyl

Face on Vinyl

Waiting for FACE

Best Male Artist Award

FACE Photoshoot

Jimin's MAMA Nominations

Jimtober Coincidences

Tetris is the biggest Jimin fan

FACE flashback - Green room riffing

FACE No.1 in Nicaragua

Jimmy Fallon's Version of Like Crazy

Congratulations Jimin!

Jiyoon is next! That sounds Korean. Well he wasn't wrong! Ha ha ha ha ha!

Jimin's Like Crazy co-writers receive their Billboard Hot 100 #1 plaques

Like Crazy Songs of the Summer

Jimin Like Crazy Mnet Kpop

This is hilarious

Shall we talk about this?

My God he looks so fine

Jimmy will be singing Jimin's Like Crazy for his August Song Challenge

FACE 100 day anniversary

Lost in the lights (of his eyes)

An IG shout out from Geffen Records

Dear.ARMY

Jimin's NYC interview with Vogue

JM on IG - More photos from the LC MV set

The way he moves

Yoonmin Like Crazy

He's so funny!

Like Crazy on the UK Charts

Like Crazy Cutie

Like Crazy in London

Jimin

On the Street and Like Crazy Tik Tok Challenge with Enhypen

Jimin's choreography video

Hidden Histories: Kyu Sakamoto, the last Asian soloist to reach No.1 on Billboard Hot 100 in 1963

Twitter tribute to Billboard achievement

Jimin on Weverse after Hot 100 No.1

Jimin says Wow!

Like Crazy is my main jam

Be Original Like Crazy

Jimin and his Hyungs

UK ARMY let's celebrate Like Crazy

Beat Coin

Now that's what I call mirroring

Jimin is King

Jimin on MCountdown - It's a Win

Like Crazy with Taeyang

Woah Park Jimin!

Like Crazy Behind the Scenes

Back to the Eighties with Like Crazy

Tonight Show Performance of Like Crazy

Dance Practice for Like Crazy Live Peformance

Jimmy is Jimin's Superfan

FACE in your face -Glorious Park Jimin

Jimin Fallon

Give me a good ride

(Love) Letter - This is Beautiful

Jimin on Beat Coin

Romantic Film Poll

Like Crazy out on Friday

Emotion of the Day - Confusion (slowly becoming clearer)

Face - Concept Photo (Software Version)

Face - Concept Photo (Hardware Ver.)

Face - Mood

FACE Tracklist and Behind

FACE Promotional Schedule

FACE by Jimin

#park jimin #jimin #FACE #set me free part 2 #hardware #software

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youandtom2 · 2 years

Note

OMG YES to the sequel to Contraband AND YES to the little drabbles of soldier!Tom. I can't wait for this!!

EEEEEEEEEE I'm excited tooooooo fuck it here's one for you! Here's how I imagine firearm training would go with Sergeant Holland ;) *set during the contraband storyline*

Ready, Aim, Fire.

"For fuck sake," you quickly mumble to yourself, reloading your small pistol with yet another magazine of 17 rounds. There's a dirty smudge on the lens of your glasses, your headphones sit askew on your head and your uniform scratches even more than usual. It doesn't take the multiple missed bullet holes on the target to know that your head's not just quite in it today, and you don't know why.

The day has run on a little longer for you being the last soldier left in the firing range while the rest of your squadron left a little over half an hour ago. There's no one but you, a puddle of bullet shells by your feet, the wooden dummy and 45 meters of empty space separating you. Your heart is set on making the centre of the dummy's head your primary target; an immediate death shot in reality and you're stubborn enough to not leave until you do it. Just one bullet to the head, that's all.

You take your stance again, legs shoulder-width apart, two hands grappling the pistol with straight, sturdy arms, shoulders bracing to take the recoil. You line up your shot, your gun falling into a blur as your eyes focus on the wooden target at the far end of the range. A steady breath flows easily in and out your lungs as your finger curls around the trigger. You think you've got it this time...

"Too low."

A rumbling, critical voice appears behind you just as you shoot your shot, somehow managing to slot itself in between appearing just a fraction too late and soon enough to predict the outcome.

Fuck. Too low. And a little to the right. You barely hit the shoulder.

Blame it on him anyway.

"Well I would've gotten it if you hadn't thrown me off," you grumble, clicking the gun into safety and whipping around to meet Sergeant Holland who stands with his arms folded and leaning against the entrance of your cubicle. Uncharacteristically, he wears a simple blue, muscle-fit t-shirt paired with his cargo army trousers and sturdy boots. There's something about Sergeant Holland after training hours that always emanates attraction like never before.

Despite it, his expression falls flat with judgement, a challenging brow craning with just an ounce of annoyance at your tone. His eyes flit over to the wooden target meters from the firing range, noticing how the human-shaped target is riddled with charred coin-sized holes, a few magazines' worth at least. But none of fired shots tarnish the pristine wooden oval head.

"So you're not aiming for the head?"

"No, actually." Deny. Deny. Deny.

"No?" He knows you're lying.

"Nope."

"Then go ahead. Headshot. Between the eyes. Right now."

"I--"

"Is there a problem with that, soldier?"

The sincerity behind his tone has you conditioned to shake your head no, swallowing the heavy lump of guilt down and leaving behind a bitter taste of regret. Damn him. He knows fine well you can't make that shot.

Like before, you position yourself as close to the boundaries as the cubicle will allow you and with the sharp raise of your arms, you aim down the barrel of the gun with a feigned confidence, the oval head in your sights. Slowly, when you're almost certain you've got it right this time, your finger curls around the trigger and fires.

You hit the neck. Your closest shot yet. But not close enough.

Defeated, you begin to think it's an impossible shot. Perhaps you should be using a rifle from this distance...

"Your stance is all wrong, your hips aren't positioned correctly and you focus too much on the target that you barely pay attention to where you are pointing your gun."

Fuck off. "I don't think there's anything wrong with my stance, actually. The target is at 45 meters. Accuracy lessens with distance. It'd be pretty hard to aim--hey!"

Sergeant Holland, eyes rolling, snatches the pistol from your hands and assumes the position at the front of the cubicle, and without a moments hesitation, he fires one, two, three, four, five shots in quick succession, absorbing recoil like it is nothing. He barely blinks, barely stops to aim as each shot lands exactly like the last; directly between the eyes. He stands poised, stoic, unbothered by the sheer display of his own skill, one that you would literally kill to have and as much as he aggravates you, you would be lying to yourself if you said that him shooting those five rounds like that wasn't the hottest thing you've ever seen.

Steady, dark orbs find yours again, now twinkling with a certain arrogance he wears as plain as his uniform. You fucking hate it more than having missed hitting that headshot. "Show off."

"Like I said," he hands you back the gun which you take with a sulk. "Positioning."

You whip off your glasses and headphones in a huff. "Whatever. I'm done for the night."

"I haven't dismissed you yet, soldier." This man. "You're not finished here until you hit that target square between the eyes."

You're sure he can hear your teeth grinding together. "Yeah, well we're going to be here all night. I can't make the shot, okay? I can't do it."

"Is that the excuse you're going to make when you've been ordered to shoot and kill an enemy from the firing line? When there's miles of bombs, mines and traps ahead of you, what are you gonna do? Wait it out until one of you get closer? Get real, soldier, that's never going to happen, one of you will have to take the shot and I won't have you being the one falling to your own weaknesses. Not under my watch. Now, take that gun and make the shot."

The frustration is getting the better of you and your confidence is slipping. You hold his glare for just a second too long that it overwhelms the shame, and you cast your eyes downward at the cold, metal gun in your hands. He's right. As ever. You should be able to use this with the best of your ability at the very least. It seems so inconsequential now, but that won't be the case in a couple of years time when you're at the front line, staring death in the face at every turn.

"Sorry."

Wordlessly, he sidles behind you, slipping out of your sight to let the target take lead and with a sigh, you step forward and raise your arms, cramp slowly settling in.

"Lift your arms, they should be in a straight line at eye level--" His presence suddenly surrounds you. Standing directly behind you, his arms slither down the length of yours, teasing them upwards as he lowers himself to share your line of sight. He's so close to you that you could feel the intensity of his breath skimming over your ear just as easily as you can hear it. Yours wobbles the second his warm, earthy scent invades your sense of smell and replaces the burnt lead of empty bullets. He's so close.

"Your hips should be at a 45 degree angle, like this..." Those hands curl around your belted waist yet somehow squeeze even tighter, twisting you ever so slightly to your left. "And bring this leg back a little bit." His voice reduces to a whisper, salacious like the hand that sinks lower between your thighs, salacious like the small gasp in the back of your throat when his palm cups over your cunt and teases with a soft pressure, but no where near as devilish as his decision to divert his hand over the curve of your thigh, pushing it a step backwards.

"Now that you're relaxed..." His cheeks raises into a sinful smirk and it brushes against the heat of yours. "Find the target. Lock onto it."

Teeth sink nervously into your bottom lip. You're trying so hard to listen to his instructions but you're struggling to concentrate, especially when your mind is screaming obscenities about the way his body burns against you, the way his hands tug at your hips, the way your ass sweeps against his hips.

"Focus, soldier." He gently prompts. "Find the target."

Between the eyes. Between the eyes. Between your thighs--Between the eyes.

"Ready, aim, fire."

When you pull the trigger, your arms take the brunt of the recoil but a small percentage of it forces you back just a fraction closer to him. Promptly, you click on the safety before you truly take a look for yourself, and when you find another black, charred bullet hole just millimeters above Sergeant Holland's, your lips split into a smile. "Holy shit. I did it."

Soft lips press themselves tenderly against your cheek, his fingers squeezing with reassurance. "Well done, soldier. A little above where you were instructed to shoot but I'll allow it."

"I can never win with you, can I?"

"Hmm," he hums, softly chuckling. "Don't get ahead of yourself, soldier. You've still got a lot to learn."

"True, but can I at least tell the others I made that shot by myself when they come in tomorrow? Please? It's the only thing I have over them." He leans away ever so slightly with a smirk stretching across his lips and you twist in his arms with a hopeful glint to your eyes.

A strand of your hair gets swept away by his thumb, leaving behind the lingering buzz of a kiss to your forehead. "Don't push your luck."

#soldier!tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland fic #tom holland imagine #fluff #contraband #tom holland x reader #short fic #tom holland x you

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undeaddredhead · 6 months

Note

What is funger << could easily Google but want friend to tell me about it instead

Funger is short for Fear and Hunger, the first installment in the Fear and Hunger video game series. Its an awesome game that combines a jrpg play style with roguelike elements where each room of the dungeon, and the items found inside, generate randomly with each play through.

It's a one person endeavour created by a Finnish dude called Miro/orange, and it's a love letter to the horror game genre. It feels like a mix of Soulsbourne, Binding of Isaac, Silent Hill, and Pokemon vibes to me.

Basically you start out as one of four characters/classes: D'acre, the knight, Cahara the mercenary, Enki the dark priest or Ragnvaldr the outlander, and your quest is to enter the terrifying and mythical dungeons of Fear and Hunger in search of the leader of a mercenary army named Legard, who has been captured and imprisoned there.

The kicker of the game is that you only have 30 minutes to find him from when you first start the game. After that even if you find his prison he'll be dead, but you can still keep exploring the fucked up dungeons. There is SO MUCH to explore in the dungeons and truthfully I think it would take at least a few days of play time to actually find Legarde in under 30 mins.

Oh right, the other kicker of the game is that everything kills you. Like everything everything. At the start of the game you're way too weak to fight anything on your own, so it's more a survival horror game of trying to hide and outrun enemies while rooting through barrels and crates for items that coukd potentially be helpful. You have to keep track of your hunger bar by eating and drinking water, your body bar takes a hit whenever you get hurt (even from stuff like stepping on a rusty nail that can cause an infection that slowly drains health), and your mind meter is constantly dropping and needs to be sustained with whatever substances you can find, from wine to opium.

It's also not shy about sex and violence. You can lose limbs, which affects your ability to wield weapons, you can chop them off to prevent infection, you can use found limbs as weapons. There are several gods and their cults in the game and receiving their blessings can help you tremendously, but their rituals involve things like orgies, human sacrifice, and cannibalism. The game has a wonderfully bleak and beautiful artsyle, where the environments are decorated with torture devices, corpses and skeletons in various stages of decay or mutation, strange plants, tons of other shit that I don't want to spoil.

Fear and Hunger also has this incredible/awful mechanic where your whole game can evaporate on a literal coin toss. Certain enemy moves or rituals, or even saving the fucking game, require a coin toss where you literally lose everything if you fail it, and the death scenes are... pretty graphic. My first death involved character being chained to a torture table and having my limbs and genitals cut off one by one by the torture master on the second floor. I picked the wrong conversation option.

Every choice you can make in the game could go in any way. You never know who to trust, which way to go, or if the floor is going to collapse under you. This game makes you fucking insane, it's bleak and horrible but somehow it's so charming and beautiful at the same time. It punishes you SO HARD for your fuck ups, but getting it right is SO REWARDING. The dungeons seem endless with so much to explore, so many interesting enemies and such intricate lore and world building. It's a LOT and it's definitely not for everyone, but if you're the kind of person who likes a challenge as well as a fair amount of horror and storytelling in your games, you will LOVE it.

I haven't played the sequal, Fear and Hunger: Termina because even though I've been playing the first game for months I'm still not finished haha. Apparently Termina is even BIGGER with more characters and backstory and laakhsgdhsjahgshddjd. I'm trying to pace myself hahaha.

I got it pretty cheap on steam and I'm pretty sure it's only available on PC. The controls are so simple you could play it on an old SNES controller, which I'm a big fan of cos I am not the kind of gamer who has the patience to learn complicated multi button moves and shit. 4 direction keys, yes and no, straight into the game. The combat is turn-based which I enjoyed a lot because once you have a few other party members you can strategise your way through most fights.

It's definitely the kind of game where I've found myself keeping the wiki page open in the background because the game explains NOTHING to you and you have to figure everything out step by step. It makes you work for every tiny morsel of progress or story it feeds you. It pavlovs you into having visceral reactions to small sounds. It's a horrifying masterpiece and one of the most beautiful pieces of art I've ever experienced. I might have already been driven insane by it though.

So yeah, that's my current obsession in a nutshell. Thanks for coming to my ted talk :3

#funger #i like this game A LOT #can you tell?

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lokidokieokie · 2 years

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You’re Stuck With Me Now!

Summary: Because the compound is in chaos, you venture off to your room and find something that you weren’t meant to. Safe to say that you are now officially Loki’s problem.

Warnings: Language

It was just like every other day in the compound; and by that, you meant chaos. The compound was chaos.

For some reason, there was a wide variety of different coloured silly string coating the walls of the common area, specifically over Vision’s tower of toasters that he ‘saved’ from Costco. Clint was hanging upside-down from the vents after, what you’re assuming, was a prank gone wrong; Natasha was (probably) rightfully threatening him with a taser because of it. Thor was sitting in a dark corner, huddling with his ‘army’ of Pop-Tarts, forming some sort of battle plan. Wanda and Pietro were sitting on the couch, hysterically crying because the Notebook was on, Vision was trying to comfort them both to no avail. Tony was dancing on the bar shirtless, singing (quite terribly) to Aqua’s Barbie Girl. Bucky and Sam were trying to one-up each other on the ‘best’ pick-up lines they could come up with, much to poor Peter’s chagrin. And Bruce—sweet, sweet Bruce—was about to have a nervous breakdown because of shit hitting the fan.

It truly was pure chaos.

Deciding that it would probably be better to venture off into your shared room with Loki, you left the rest of the gang to their psychotic tendencies.

Silence.

“Perfect.” You smiled.

Looking around the room that you shared, you noticed that it was absolutely filthy. Clothes were thrown all over the floor, Loki’s books were everywhere (literally), the rubbish bin was overflowing, paper from your failed drawings littered the floor...it was just a mess.

Deciding that you could use your spare time wisely, you connected your phone to your speaker and began belting out your favourite tunes. Slowly—due to your constant need to dance to your favourites—you began to clean what was known as your room. Clothes were either neatly folded away or placed in the hamper, the rubbish and paper were carefully separated and disposed of.

Now came the fun part: Loki’s books.

Putting Loki’s books back was a challenge. Things were organised in such a meticulous way that you were sure he would notice if one was out of place just by walking in through the door. Shoving some books in (hopefully) that right places, you notice that one won’t budge further than half-way into the shelf.

“Why won’t this stupid book go into its place?” You continued to try and push the book in, but it just wouldn’t budge. Scared that you would damage it, you pulled the book back out, and began to investigate.

“Something must be blocking the book. God knows what he’s shoved onto these shelves.” Quickly moving some things around, you come across a nice wooden box, with a golden rose on the lid. Wonder what could be in here?

Hoping that you weren’t opening Asgard’s version of Pandora’s box (your boyfriend would be the one to own such an item), you carefully unlatched it, and lifted the lid. There pretty much was just a bunch of junk. Some Asgardian gold coins, crumpled pieces of a paper and a-

Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. Is that what I think it is?

Can’t be. I’m imagining things. Someone must’ve spiked my water at breakfast.

The most beautiful emerald ring that you had ever seen was sitting inside a little velvet box. The intricate swirling of the rose gold ring perfectly encompassed the large tear-drop gem.

He’s going to propose. Your eyes widened.

Running out of your room, you made your way back to the common area, hoping to find your magnificent boyfriend. Finding him on the couch, you sat down next to him and stared into his eyes, hoping to find some sort of indication that proved that you did, in fact, find an engagement ring.

Deciding that you should just test the waters, you spoke, “Loki, I found something that I shouldn’t have when cleaning our room...”

“Whatever did you find, my dear?” He didn’t even look up from his book when he answered, that meant war.

“Something green that’s expensive and shiny and was hidden in a wooden box on your bookshelf.” His eyes widened, and he coughed.

“I have not a clue what you are talking about, love.” You frowned, you wanted to coax it out of him.

“Is it not for me?” Cue the fake tears.

He sputtered, “of course it’s for you, Darling. Who else would it be for?” Got him, you smiled.

“You’re going to propose!” That seemed to gain the attention of the rest of the Avengers, as the chaos seemed to stop.

“Of course, I was! Now put it back where you found it and pretend you didn’t see it.” You huffed.

“Na-uh, Trickster. Ever heard of finders-keepers? We’re engaged now.” He laughed and kissed your cheek.

“Are you not going to do the whole, get down on one knee, declare your undying love bullshit?” Tony asked. Clearly, he doesn’t remember his proposal to Pepper.

“Will you marry me, Darling?” He asked, with a hint of laughter in his eyes.

“You’re stuck with me now!” You grinned, he smiled, everyone celebrated.

Here was another one!

Find my Masterlist here!

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satoshi-mochida · 2 months

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Penny’s Big Breakaway now available

From Gematsu

Kinetic 3D platformer Penny’s Big Breakaway is now available for PlayStation 5, Xbox Series, Switch, and PC via Steam for $29.99, publisher Private Division and developer Evening Star announced.

Here is an overview of the game, via Private Division:

About

Ready. Set. YO! Join Penny & Yo-Yo in a kinetic 3D platformer bursting with innovative gameplay! Showcase your catalog of tricks and chain impressive combos to deliver Penny & Yo-Yo’s perfect breakout performance. Take the stage with this vibrant pair in Penny’s Big Breakaway. Penny is a street performer with big dreams; she has her own spin on what it takes to be a star! When Eddie the Emperor calls for new Palace Court Performers, Penny gets herself tangled in an audition she’ll never forget. A strange encounter with a Cosmic String transforms Penny’s Yo-Yo into a living creature with an appetite for snacks—and mayhem! Use Yo-Yo to help Penny clear her name, outrun the Emperor’s penguin army, and unravel the mystery of the Cosmic String. Burst onto the scene in the fluorescent world of Macaroon, home to this over-and-under escape! Discover your true star power in this easy-to-play, difficult-to-master challenge. Penny’s Big Breakaway is the debut title from Evening Star.

Key Features

Walk the Dog – Yo-Yo’s big appetite will earn an even bigger reward with snack power-ups! Use these tasty treats to temporarily transform Yo-Yo, granting it the abilities to improve movement speed, protect Penny from harm, and much more!

Around the World – Flee from Eddie the Emperor’s massive penguin army as they chase you clear across the planet! These clumsy flightless birds patrol the halls, come bursting through walls, and will stop at nothing to seize you! Help out friendly denizens along the way and make use of your spectacular surroundings to evade your capturers.

Encore Stage – Play your way with multiple game modes! Show off your skills as you chain awesome combos and rack up multipliers in Story Mode. Take on the ultimate speedrunning challenge and dominate the leaderboard in Time Attack Mode. Redeem coins for bonus items, secret stages, and more unlockable extras.

Watch a new trailer below.

Release Date Trailer

youtube

#Penny’s Big Breakaway #Evening Star #Private Division #platformer #Gematsu #Youtube

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synonycostore · 2 years

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US Army Rangers Silver Challenge Coin

#https://synonyco.com/products/us-army-rangers-silver-challenge-coin

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sakura-rose12 · 10 months

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After a month of playing around with these new #oc’s, I’ve finally got a solid base. So let’s do a brief intro!

General world notes: land is split into sky islands, beneath is an ocean. Travel by airships. Islands can be as small as a village, some big as a multiple cities.

Vin (Vincent) is closed off to strangers, but since his island is so small, everyone considered each other family. He can be sarcastic, sassy and fun, but after his home was destroyed, all he can think about is revenge. He needs to learn to open up to others again. A farmer lad!

Susi is Vins best friend. Her family own a livestock farm. She’s loud, cheerful and has one heck of a punch! Which she likes to do in good nature so watch out! She gives everyone a nickname. Her home is destroyed and Vin spirals, she makes sure he has family by his side.

Ophelia appeared on the tiny farmer island one day found by Vins older brother, injured and needing medical attention. She is calm, collected but seems to be hiding something if her urgency to leave the island is to go by anything. It seems she has something very important to do.

Elijah is a charismatic, cocky man. He uses his charms to trick the soldiers that invaded his home island to take their coin to give it to the less fortunate, as he was also raised on the streets. Bit of a tease, but if someone he’s interested teases him, he’ll stop functioning.

Morgan is a quiet young woman who is in the process of figuring out who she is. Unnoticed and pushed around for most of her life, she wants to become bolder. Her island has frequent rainfall, so she pretty much lives in her raincoat.

William is gruff and rarely shows emotion. A retired army man, William lived to care for his young ill daughter. But it went down hill when the invading army arrived and monopolised all the medical supplies, taken from those that needed it most. Now William is all alone…

Petra is…odd. She’s got a colourful personality and a genius, constantly inventing gadgets and the like. Confident in her abilities and inventions, nothing can get her down! Even if someone tells her something was invented already, she takes it as a challenge to make it better!

And some random sketches I did during the design process!

#oc #original character #sentai #roseyart #vin #susi #Ophelia #Elijah #William #Morgan #Petra

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honey-minded-hivemind · 4 months

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The 🔥SkyWing🦅 Monarch Backstory Post:

(A small warning note: SkyWing Monarch Reader is named Falcon, implied dubious consent because of old queen, implied murder, old queen is a narcissistic tyrant, implied abuse, blood, fighting, and death. You have been warned)

They don't think they've ever felt so relieved. Their talons tap sharply against the throne, the sharp clicks echoing around the room. It was hard to believe all of this was their's now. All the mounds and mounds of treasure, gold and rubies and emeralds and garnets shining like polished stars among crowns and tiaras and scepter and necklaces and rings, wrought of metal and stones that gleamed as bright as the sun. An entire army, filled with dragons devoted to them, and their kingdom, ready to attack or defend at the drop of a coin. The lavish banquets, filled with wine and mead and ciders (and the dragonet-friendly cinnamon milk and steaming teas), all sweet and refreshing, and all the roasted boars and sizzling cows and baked hawks and seared sheep, all succulent and juicy and dripping with flavor, that any dragon could ever want. It was all so... divine.

How could their mother have squandered it so?

Their mother had been a mean, vicious snake of a dragon. Poised and perfect, beautiful and cold, a true wolf in sheep's wool. Dripping with saccharine sweetness one minute, and full of acidic poison the next, she always had a crafted phrase or sneering remark for anyone she addressed. Whatever she wanted, she got, and whomever she wanted, she got them, too. For a trophy, for a servant, for a spouse, for a gladiator in her arena, it never mattered. If she said she wanted it, she would have it. Anyone who said no was killed, and those who fought her were thrown into the arena to be slaughtered. It was a wonder that any dragons survived around her...

Falcon had once loved their mother. Their mother had even seemed to like them, too. But, over the years, they realized how hollow it was, how their mother tried to twist them into another her, and that once she was bored, she'd likely kill them, if not just imprison or exile them. She had done it before, after all. And how awful was it, to discover that they'd had siblings, many of which were massacred by their own mother, after she had no need or want for them. Falcon had soon come to realize how fragile everything around them was, and how their life, and the life of the other dragons ensnared by their mother, all hung by the edge of a dagger.

Was it any wonder they grew to hate her so?

They had cried for days and nights on end after finding out how the dragons they loved, those who they thought were family, were treated. For weeks afterward, they couldn't look then in the eyes. How could they? They were the surviving child of the queen, a dragon they hated, while some of their own children never made it to their seventh hatching day. It was hard, trying to keep going after finding out their life was a lie.

But, they continued.

What choice did they have? Someone would have to replace the queen one day, and so far, the only old enough heir happened to be them. The next few years had been spent building up their strength, lengething their wisdom, refining their cunning, all so one day they could take back their life, and the lives of those they loved, back from the monster who crushed them under her talons. A few of their other parents tried to talk them out of it. Tried to dissuade them from challenging her so soon. Warned them of what would happen to them should they fail. Falcon knew, then, that despite how their mother hurt them and abused them, her many spouses never hated Falcon for being the one to survive. If anything, they were more protective because of it.

But... they didn't have a lot of time left. Falcon had to challenge the queen soon.

Their other parents had finally had a few dragonets hatch over those years, and had adopted others over that time. Falcon couldn't wait while the queen planned to strike them down, while they were still too young, too weak, to do anything against her. So, if that meant Falcon paid the ultimate price, so be it. It would all be worth it if it meant the few dragons that loved them wouldn't suffer any longer.

The challenge had been issued in the throne room, in front of the entire SkyWing court, at the early hours before dawn. Their mother, the queen, had a look of pure, unfiltered shock on her face. That was swiftly replaced with anger, and then a saccharine venom.

"A challenge, child? Isn't that too much for you? What has gotten into you? Ha! As if you, my sheep-brained dragonet, could even last five minutes," trilled the queen, a snort of flame escaping her nostrils. A few dragons laughed along, those who enjoyed the queen's cruel games as much as she did. "Fine, child! I accept your challenge for my throne. Just know I'll enjoy executing you once we're done, as a sign to any who dare to challenge me again." The queen stretched her large wings out, her tail lashing wildly behind her. And in a flash of fire and smoke, the queen attacked.

Falcon dodged, ducking under the flames before the queen landed where they used to be. The two royals circled each other, looking for any signs of weakness. The queen's poisonous eyes watched Falcon's every move, searching for anything to use against them... Then, in a flash of scales, the queen leapt onto them, crashing them both against the throne. Large wings beat against their head, sharp claws raking down their neck. Falcon had twisted, lashing out with their back talons and clawing them queen's stomach, shredding it. With a piercing shriek, the queen rolled off, clutching at her stomach.

"YOU INSOLENT DRAGONET!" she screamed. "HOW DARE YOU?!" Fire streamed from her mouth, nicking Falcon's tail. They lunged forward with a pained breath, setting fire to the wing closest to them. The queen had screamed even louder, batting desperately at the flames. Falcon wasted no time in knocking the larger dragon down, pinning her wings under their back talons and wrapping one of their front talons around the queen's. Their other talons slammed down beside her neck, the claws scraping against stone.

"Good-bye, Mother," they said, firm and unwavering. They had raised their talons-

SLASH!

And shredded the queen's throat. Ruby red oozed from the wounds, staining their talons crimson. The floor was soon flooded with the dark wine-colored liquid, pooling across the stones. The room then quickly filled with the sound of cheering, as the gathered dragons realized they had a new monarch.

And after that, Falcon spent the next month freeing those oppressed by their mother, paying those harmed or affected by her with treasure, and turning the arena into a peaceful gallery and garden, full of art and flora, to usher in peace and healing, and to provide a calm environment for the wounded to enjoy. They've entered their second month of being monarch, which brings them to now:

"Falcon, we aren't leaving you."

"Are you sure? You don't have to stay. I realize Mother wasn't kind to you all, so if you need or want to leave, you are free to do so," they answer, tapping their claws anxiously. They're grateful their other parents (and subsequently, their few surviving and adopted dragonets) love them. But...

"You don't just have to say that. I understand if you all would feel better in a place containing less... bad memories," Falcon insists. The parent seeing them right then sighs, and looks back at them.

"Falcon, I promise you, we aren't leaving you. We love you: you're our dragonet. Even if you are the new monarch. Just... please, believe us. Believe me," they respond, their eyes sad. They approach them, until they're at the bottom of the throne. And in a careful motion, they pull Falcon into a hig, wrapping them up in their giant wings.

"I... I believe you," Falcon replies softly. They slowly pull themself away, and straighten their posture. "Is there anything scheduled for today?" Right back to business. It's easier to act like a monarch than accept they feel like a scared, guilt-ridden dragonet.

"Hmmm... yes. I believe you wanted to check the wingery today," muses their present parent. They give them a soft smile, and gesture towards the door. "Shall we visit it now, Your Majesty?"

"Yes. We shall," Falcon says, and they slide off the throne, heading towards the throne room doors, their parent trailing after that. Then, the doors open, showing a new dawn, and the two step into the light together.

#honeycomb thoughts #platonic yandere marvel #yandere platonic marvel #platonic yandere xmen #yandere x-men #platonic yandere #platonic yandere x reader #platonic yandere marvel x reader #🐉Wings of Fire AU #👑Majesty💍 AU #🔥SkyWing🦅 AU

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ineffably-human · 2 years

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Okay. [cracks knuckles] Let's do this.

"never beat him at anything"

Already this isn't secretly describing Guillermo. Guillermo beating him in a fight earned him a marriage proposal. He starts this list after he's bested in a fight specifically, which is meant to invoke that confrontation - and remember the fight was "what [he's] been waiting for." So we are not looking for Guillermo in this list, or if we are, we have to be selective to do it.

"humble"

I mean, Guillermo CAN be humble, or can at least humble himself. He didn't walk around with a secret enormous ego all those years. But he loves being flattered and given positions of power, he knows his worth and likes it being vocally appreciated. (Y'know who isn't humble basically ever? Nandor.)

"an excellent listener" I think he is, actually. You'd have to be, to be any good at his job.He once very clearly complained that Nandor wasn't listening, because Nandor wasn't. Listening was, at one point, not a Nandor strong suit. "not petty"

They both can be this, for sure. Guillermo moreso. Usually when he's jealous. "or slovenly Neither of them. Slovenly dude is being walked towards the djinn execution room over this line, though. "or vain" Another thing that is VERY Nandor and can sometimes be Guillermo, but not appearance-wise. 'Slovenly' and 'vain' are contrasts, too. Because Nandor is trying to describe perfection.

"or manipulative" THIS is Guillermo, but it's a recent trait and it's kind of from necessity. At this point Nandor's leading four different people down the hallway that presumably correspond to these traits, all to the djinn coin room. "never asked [him] to shave off [his] beard" Only a madman would do such a thing. But clearly at this point we're not looking for 'these are all things Guillermo has done,' either. Background dialogue: 'This guy I don't trust.' (In what? But Nandor clearly trusts Guillermo.) 'This one never learned to read.' (A little unfair but sure, wants education, good conversation..) 'I like her but she's so much smarter than me.' (Again two contrasting things, and a hilarious side-eye from Guillermo at this line that also looks a little worried. Because Nandor's clearly all over the place, or because he's gonna have to look hard to not find anyone smarter than him? You decide!)

"warm, and wanted to be with [him]"

This is Nandor's insecurity again, it's about his own desirability to the person. Contrasting images in the montage: a woman literally shivering in the pool next to him, because he has no body heat, and a guy (one of the Dalals) who clearly is not into him and vice versa.

"kind"

I do think this describes Guillermo, for more please see [gestures to wall of Guillermo apologist meta]

"a good haggler"

When the hell would Nandor have seen this in action during his living years, when he led a country/army? Guillermo seems pretty decent at this though. Something to watch out for in the actual Night Market.

"never borrowed [his] boots without asking [him]"

Nandor, honey, do you even want to get married? (No. No he doesn't. Not this way, anyhow.)

"merciful"

Applies to Guillermo. Applies IMO to modern Nandor who seems to value it. Does not apply to Nandor The Relentless Who Is Pillaging Everyone You Included. Also not sure when he would have had an opportunity to see this in action.

"horny"

Give Guillermo a few rounds with a British starter boyfriend, Nandor, I think he'll get there.

"had a sense of spontaneity and fun"

Applies to both of them, I think.

Okay, so this isn't all describing Guillermo or his opposite. Some of it is describing the opposite of Nandor, some of it is countering anything that might challenge or inconvenience him. But this person isn't anybody, like it's not even a made-up version of a person. They almost certainly didn't exist.

The episode hands it to us, actually. The one thing he remembers is that his love had long dark hair. (He could've just ruled out anyone who didn't without summoning them, but nope.) At the end, when fucking with Marwa's hair, he says he always imagined his wife would have blonde hair. Then he immediately changes his mind, ultimately taking it back to how she started while not being fully pleased with it, saying nothing is too good for his 'perfect wife'. Because he's gone from a supposed memory of true love to a fantasy of perfection, and he can't land on what 'perfection' means to start with.

Nandor didn't want to get married until five seconds after he asked Guillermo to be his best man, and he didn't want it to be this mysterious past love until he realized he could resurrect old romances. What he really wants is to cover up loneliness with a new endorphin high as soon as possible, because Guillermo is so close to walking out that door the minute these made-up tasks run out, Nandor can feel it. And this is how Nandor deals with feelings.

#fandom: wwdits #what we do in the shadows #otp: nandermo #i am a meta gremlin

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contrasting-realities · 1 month

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Hunter/Knight Character Intro

You were born with the soul of the Solitary, which signifies your tendency to move from place to place.

Your father and mother are unknown to you, as they died soon after you were born. Instead, you had been raised by your uncle Belos Goldborn, who established a mercenary band soon after taking you in.

From the earliest time you could hold a sword, your uncle has been training you to be a knight. It isn’t an easy life but it was what you knew.

In your first ever sparring match with a member of the mercenary band, The Knights Of The Golden Eagles, you were pitted against their weakest member yet it was still a challenge for you.

However, a fighter’s true colors show under harsh conditions, when you saw your opponent's sword coming, you…

Quickly stepped aside and dodged it. (Fast Stance)

Raised your buckler and stood your ground. (Defense Stance)

Your uncle was pleased with the results and inducted you as a knight a few years later, however…As time went by, Belos became distant from you and his men, quickly becoming obsessed with arcane tombs and rituals.

You suspect that this may be due to the curse that he has suffered from since childhood, an enchantment that turns him into a horrifying beast.

One night, you sneak up on him reading and express your desire to help him. Belos turns down your offer and ushers you back to your room in the local inn, but this doesn’t seem like it will help, you…

Run away and search for a cure for the curse (nothing, enables dash)

You suspect that Belos doesn’t want you to worry about him, yet that doesn’t quell your fears.

Running off in the dead of night may have gotten you away from the others, but over the next few months you find nothing.

Eventually, your uncle tracks you down and takes you back.

Do as Belos told you and remain with the mercenary band (20 silver coins)

You decide to hide your fear and remain with the group, as running off wouldn’t help its other members.

Over the next few months, you manage to obtain a personal allowance of 20 coins.

Over time, commoners begin to gather around Belos and sing his praises, as he started from roots similar to them.

You were lucky enough to watch it play out over the years and must agree with them, your uncle is an incredible man.

The army grew rapidly after that and you were promoted to his right hand man, however you noticed that Belos was even worse for wear than before, as his curse had been rapidly spreading.

Things would only go out of control once he ordered a raid on the capital of the new world, Vinland.

Without any warning, Belos slaughtered everyone between him and the ancient relics they held.He seemingly targeted the dark priests and left none alive, either stealing their tombs or burning them.

It was enough of an overblow for the kingdom of Rondon to use it against him, sending knights to quell your army.

As their troops marched towards your smaller army, you had to choose which position to take the upcoming encounter.

Take the rear and manage defenses (long sword, eagle crest shield, plate mail, leg guards)

Spearhead the upcoming assault (iron spear, iron cutlass, arm guards)The Knights Of The Golden Eagle lost the fight.

Many of your comrades died but you managed to escape the battlefield.

Belos was taken alive and will likely be either publicly executed or used for propaganda.

You knew that there wasn’t much time left so you had to act fast.

Even if it was a suicide mission, you had to save your uncle from the prison he was held in.

Before leaving for your desperate journey, you…

Stock up on equipment (x7 tinderboxes, quill, blue vial)

Stock up on food (x3 dried meat, a moldy bread, and cheese)

Rush straight after him (Dash if certain options above were selected)

#fear and hunger #fear and hunger au #philip wittebane #emperor belos #hunter the owl house #toh x funger au

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latibvles · 1 year

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SAD, BEAUTIFUL, TRAGIC.

beautiful, tragic // amen, amen, amen.

sometimes i can’t help blaming you for leaving me here, what am i supposed to do?

masterlist | gallery | taglist

TAGLIST: @liebgotts-lovergirl , @softguarnere , @monalisastwin , @brassknucklespeirs , @mads-weasley

WARNINGS: major character death , descriptions of bombings , civilian death , gore , etc.

SUMMARY: As Christmas Eve comes around, it proves challenging for the battered medics of Bastogne to find reason to celebrate — as General McAuliffe’s response reaps lethal consequence.

She used to love Christmas

Well… used to love wouldn’t be the right term. She still does — but Christmases at home, with her brother, with Ron, with warm fires and a belly full of food. It nearly slipped her mind that Christmas was tomorrow, until Laura slipped a coin on a string to her with a soft smile and a “Merry Christmas Eve, Lieutenant.” Daisy put it on, took note of the matching one hanging from Laura’s neck — and it was the first time she smiled that morning.

It’s been four days since they were cut off, and three days since another Aid Station opened down the road with staff from 82nd Airborne and 705th Tank Destroyer. Ironically, the opening of it is an astute reminder of the Army’s lackluster medical training — filled with green replacements who make mistakes that Daisy has to amend. She doesn’t know when it was agreed upon by the officers that the enlisted would come to her for any and all questions, but she has a feeling it has to do with the ones who don’t like her very much. Now it’s just another thing on the long list of responsibilities she has to shoulder.

When the skies cleared yesterday it did little to lift her mood — but the supply drop certainly helped. Still, with men coming up to her for questions on even the most self-explanatory of procedure or direction, her patience ran thin. Poor Sergeant Lipton became victim to her outburst; she mistook him for another doe-eyed medic, but he took it in stride. He’d even cracked a joke, flashed her a smile, no harm, no foul.

“It’s bullshit and you know it, Charles.” Daisy spits out, her words sharp as they make their way down the street of the bombed out town. Lieutenant Phalen, or rather, Charles Phalen, as he asked her to call him, says nothing — so she continues. “I swear to God it’s like all those men learned was how to pester their goddamn nurses. And if Evans gives me that sideways glance one more time I’m gonna—”

“Tug his ear?” Daisy looks at him and shakes her head.

“Break his glasses.”

Charles takes a tentative glance towards the sky as an engine whirrs overhead, and Daisy looks up at it too. To her reluctant relief, she recognizes the black and white stars and stripes of the C-47. For two nights they’ve been getting hit with bombs all over town, and Daisy finds herself praying way more frequently now that the bombs don’t hit the church.

“Wonder where he’s headed,” Charles muses.

“Fiji, probably. Holiday vacations and all that.” She hears him snort beside her.

“You know a lot about vacations, Daisy?”

“Oh yeah — I’ve actually got a holiday foot massage in an hour with my best friend George Evans.” She fires back dryly, garnering another small laugh.

She can laugh and rant and curse all she likes, but none of it shakes this helpless feeling that’s long-since festered in her heart and taken root like a weed. There’s not much any of them can do, and Daisy hates that especially. That feeling that no matter how many people get back on their feet — it’ll never be enough. Trying not to give in to her own despair has proven harder as of late, with the crumbling buildings and civilian casualties demanding her attention.

The streets reek of rot. The air smells like smoke. The once-clear roads are littered with debris. It looks like the end of the world. She can only imagine what it’s like out on the line.

As they return to the Church, Daisy watches for a moment as they carry Smokey Gordon out by stretcher. They’d been so busy when he was brought in that morning, she couldn’t give Eugene more than a sympathetic look before she was being whisked away by her other duties. His eyes are half-lidded and his skin is sallow, but he’s alive, and he might get to go home. She feels Charles clap her shoulder and give it a squeeze.

“I’m gonna be with 82nd tonight, if you need anything.” He offers, and Daisy gives him a stiff nod.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She puts a hand over his and gives it a squeeze, before shaking it off to head back down into the stuffy Church, bursting at the seams with civilians and soldiers all in desperate need of a relief Daisy doesn’t know how to provide.

“There you go. Take this. Couverture? Couverture?” The French in Laura’s thick accent sounds a little strange rolling off her tongue, but something’s better than nothing. In the supplies had been some extra blankets, and they’d scavenged for what they could in the ruined buildings, washing the sheets until their fingers pruned and the water ran black with dirt and grime. Now they pass them out to the people finding shelter — elderly and women and children with dirt-smudged faces and tired eyes.

Daisy tries not to stare for too long as mothers wrap their children in the scratchy wool-covers, kissing their heads as the children let out wet coughs.

Christ, she misses her mother.

They’d be getting ready for Christmas Eve service right about how. Her mother, in her red-brown church dress and her father in a cable-knit sweater vest. And her eldest cousin, Mary, would be trying to wrangle in the other two, Abigail and Joseph. Her mother would be fretting over her father’s Christmas tie while her Aunt Marie desperately tries to calm her mother’s nerves. And the house would be warm — from Christmas lights and dinner cooking in the kitchen. It’s been two years since she walked the halls of her aunt’s stately Maryland colonial, and the thought makes her chest ache.

“Rogers, come with me. I wanna head to 82nd and see if they have any extra blankets. For the little ones.” Laura looks at her and nods.

“Sure thing!”

They make their way up the stairs and out into the frigid night quickly, and Laura hums to herself thoughtfully. Daisy looks at her with a raised brow.

“I’ve been thinkin’...” she starts out, “Tomorrow maybe a few of us could go n’ poke around, see if there’s any toys lying about that the kids might want. Since it’s Christmas n’ all. Somethin’ nice for the little ones,” The blonde suggests. Daisy smiles at that — her friend’s idea making her feel a little warmer.

“Wouldn’t be such a bad idea. Could see what we can scrounge liquor-wise for the guys. Something nicer than moonshine, maybe?” Laura’s grin grows wider at the thought.

“I like the way you think, Dais,” She throws her arm over Daisy’s shoulder, pulling her into her side as the lights from the other Aid station come into view around the corner. “That really oughta—”

Pop! Pop! Pop!

Their eyes snap up as 88s light up the sky, and make out the silhouette of planes. Then, there’s the familiar orange glow further in town — just like the one in Holland. Her blood turns to ice. A whistle pierces through the air and then…

She watches as a building goes up in a burst of brilliant orange flames. Her heartbeat picks up. It’s dangerously close to the Church and before she can register it, Laura’s taking off down the road.

“Rogers! Rogers!” Daisy calls out. The girl whips her head back, eyes lit up with courage.

“We’ve gotta get ‘em out of there, Dais!” Another whistle. Another explosion that shakes the ground. Daisy can’t look away. She takes a breath and nods. She’s right. No matter how much she wants to keep this woman close to her — she knows she’s right.

“I’m getting Phalen and some other guys and we’re gonna get everybody out, okay?”

“Yes ma’am!”

Daisy turns and takes off into the Aid Station. The able-bodied are ducked under tables and other means of cover. Her head whips around in search of Charles, calling out his name until the man comes from one of the off rooms of this building.

Another boom.

“What is it, Clarke?” he asks. Her face feels hot.

“We’re evacuating the people in the Church. Bombs are hitting way too close and I—,” Whistle. Boom. “Look. I just need guys, alright?! And a jeep.” Charles nods, his expression changing from concern to determination. He barks out a few names, and a couple medics spring up as he gives orders to each of them.

“I’ll get you that jeep.” He decides on, giving her shoulder another squeeze.

“Thank you.” Daisy responds, and she’s dashing out the door once again.

There’s fire, a lot of it. And screaming. Cries for people to clear the roads and get out mixed with the popping sound of 88s and the powerful groans of jet engines. She lifts her arms to cover her head as she runs, heart pounding in her ears, drowning out the cacophony. Gotta get back, she repeats, gotta make it back. As she approaches she sees specks in the distance rushing out of the building. She thinks she can make out those precious red crosses, and Laura’s blonde head as she rushes inside when—

Whistle. Boom.

The force of the explosion on her left is enough to thrust her into the opposing wall. Her head slams into the brick. Her ears are ringing. Glass and debris slice her skin and sting her eyes. Everything is muffled. She can’t see through the cloud of dust — she shuts her eyes. For a moment, Daisy just sits there in a daze. When she lifts her fingers to her temple, it’s warm and wet. She can taste blood in her mouth and her tongue aches.

“Get out! Quickly!”

“Clear the road! Outta the way!”

A flash of orange behind her eyelids, the screeching of tires. Her legs feel a little shaky. Gotta get up, she desperately tries to will herself into it. Stand up. Keep pushing forward. She holds her breath for a moment, pressing her palm into the brick and pushing herself up on trembling legs, squinting to see through the clouds of dust. Daisy takes a tentative step forward, and then another, forcing herself through the cloud and opening her eyes fully as she does so.

As three men stumble out of the Church, scattering to the wind, she brings a hand to her mouth.

It’s completely caved in — glass shattered and littering the ground. Dust pluming. A lump forms in her throat as she stumbles forward.

“Laura..?” Daisy whispers, her voice cracking as she approaches the entryway.

“Daisy?” Daisy whips her head around, only for her eyes to meet Eugene’s. He rushes forward, towards her and the debris as a medic warns them against it, falling to his knees and pulling out a familiar blue scarf. Daisy’s fingers ghost the coin hanging from her neck with trembling hands. She feels like she might be drowning. The throbbing of her head becomes a distant pain in comparison to the piercing pain in her chest.

“Gene, I—” Daisy struggles to find the words, grasping at something, anything, praying it isn’t real. “Renee and— Laura was right here. I saw her go inside and— and my nurses, and the women and the children. They were all…” she trails off, staring at the rubble with a quivering lip.

She feels a hand curl around her own in a death-grip. Squeezing tight enough for it to hurt. She doesn’t care. She looks at Eugene — his eyes aren’t glassy, but they hold the same grief that’s splitting her apart.

“Easy needs a medic.” He murmurs. Despite his grip, she squeezes back with all the strength she can muster, giving him a nod.

“Medic! Get your ass out here!” Eugene turns his head to look, and she follows, watching a man as he darts away. Then he’s climbing down the pile of rubble, and leading her with him. She doesn’t let go of his hand, not until they pile into a jeep headed back out onto the line, and even then she says nothing. She and Gene exchange looks, but nothing more. She wants to hold his hand again — but doesn’t. Daisy doesn’t even cry.

She says nothing when the jeep pulls into the woods she’s never been in before — not when they get out, and not when Liebgott practically springs out of his foxhole, scruffier with a bright red nose and a look of excitement that immediately shifts to worry upon seeing the state of her.

“Holy shit, Dais, what’re you doing out here?” He whispers. Eugene clears his throat.

“Can she share your foxhole t’night, Liebgott?” And then, shifting his eyes back to Daisy, “We can… talk to Captain Winters in the morning.” Daisy nods at that, weakly, as Joe places his hands on her shoulders, guiding her back towards the hole he sprung up from. When was the last time she’d slept in a foxhole? It had to be Normandy.

They slump into it, Joe placing an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side. He’s warm, and familiar, and Daisy finds herself leaning into him.

“I slapped my father,” she whispers, her voice cracking in all the wrong places. Joe turns to look at her. She can feel his gaze on the top of her head, burning through her. “I almost died tonight and… and his last memory would’ve been of me slapping him before I got on the train.” There’s a heavy silence for a moment, before his fingers dig into her arm a little bit.

“But you made it.” Joe responds, definitive, in a way that makes her ache for home.

She stares at the dirt wall — and sees a dreamlike woman, with soft blonde hair and sky blue eyes. A smile to die for, an ability to charm almost everybody she ever met. A kid brother at home, a father, so determined to make it — she remembers that first day, when Daisy pressed her fingers into her back to push her over the finish line. Their first night out. The first time she followed Daisy without question, back in Holland. They were supposed to find toys and whiskey tomorrow, for the kids and the men.

But she didn’t, is what she says, except it comes out as a strangled sob. And then another one, that lurches her body forward, and before she knows it, she’s sobbing and hiccuping and Joe’s pulling her fully into his arms — so she’s sobbing into his chest now, incoherent and blubbering. Daisy can barely breathe, gripping onto him for dear life and trying to stifle her cries into his jacket. It hurts. She feels like she's drowning and scrambling for air, only for a hand to maliciously shove her down again and hold her under the water until her lungs cry out. Over and over, just when she thinks things could be a little okay, something happens for her to be proven stupidly, horrifically, wrong. And she hates it.

Joe says nothing, rubbing circles into her back, kissing the top of her head and keeping her close in a way that's so familiar it makes her cry harder. It's only then, that he tells her, soft as ever, to just breathe. Daisy doesn't know if she can do that.

She doesn’t know when she falls asleep — but it’s somewhere between the sobbing and a prayer

#fic // sad beautiful tragic #band of brothers fic #ronald speirs fic #ronald speirs x ofc #ronald speirs x oc #hbo war oc #hbo war fic #band of brothers oc #band of brothers ofc #yeah I didn’t write for like three days after writing this #because my heart was #quite frankly #BROKEN #and I was left in shambles because of it

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