#gw2 fanfic

[i-mybrunettelady]

zine piece teaser

hello, hi. the parties have died down, and it's time to go back to fandoms. i'm part of the amazing team of people responsible for the @gw2-zine and i've been sneakily working on a big nyra character study that you'll see come february!

right now, though, here's a little snippet of it :>

A clicking sound of hundreds of little heels echoes against the stone floor as they all make one step forward.  A choice has to be made, and soon. Alysannyra carries her head high, taller than most other kids already, and stares at Lyssa’s graceful form in the center of the Six. Pinks and purples of the vitrage behind her twin forms cast an inviting light that seems to twist and bend in strange shapes, as if to spite the harmony that doesn’t seem perturbed by them. Balthazar’s helmet feels comfortable; Alysannyra, too, will one day wear a helmet, as a member of the Seraph. Its weight feels irrelevant, necessary, part of the regalia as much as the white robe is. She can almost feel the pressure of the hot metal in her bare hands and she feels the war call to her.

keep your eyes peeled for more teasers. as usual, every year has to start with nyraposting <3

under the cut is a funny nyra screen bc lets not forget she's gremlin

#gw2 #gw2 zine #commander of your heart zine #alysannyra #2k words of nyra lore coming soon tm <3 #god i'm so proud of this one #i can't wait for y'all to see it #this is baby nyra. enjoy <3 #guild wars 2 #gw2 fanfic #gw2 writing #cyoh zine

[dualumina]

Seductions of the Obscure

The Commander has felled dragons, gods, and hearts aplenty. But can they prevail when the mysterious voice from their thoughts offers more than sweet words?

First chapter of the Commander x Peitha fic, as promised.

#gw2 #peitha #gw2 peitha #commander x peitha #snargle goldclaw #gw2 fanfic #wayfinder x peitha #gw2 soto

[nullvoidface]

Downtime in Cantha

CW: touches on the commander’s PTSD very lightly, spoilers for Icebrood Saga

Arborstone had many nooks and crannies to hide in if you needed to get away from everything for a bit. Though if you needed to be approachable for whatever reason, the back of the building opened into a clearing in the dense forest. That was usually where you could find the Commander if one needed him.

It wasn’t hard to spot him, he was tall even for a charr. Reddish striped fur broken up by large black patches, he was pretty difficult to miss.

Corvus sat in the grass beneath a large tree, papers strewn about and weighed down with rocks and sticks to keep them from flying away. A book was placed in his lap as he wrote.

His mane was frizzy and had patches of dirt and grass in it, presumably because he had napped at some point.

“Are you answering letters?” Kasmeer carefully sat down on the grass, not wanting to disturb any of the pages in the area.

Corvus flicked his ears before turning his head to look at Kasmeer, she had sat down on his blind side, completely forgetting about his missing eye for a moment.

He sighed and lowered his shoulders, seemingly releasing subconscious tension he had built up. “It’s for my warband. Or… I guess what’s left of them.” Corvus scratched the top of his head.

“And how is that going?” Kas didn’t want to assume.

“Well… Admittedly not great.” Corvus chuckled. “I don’t want to bother you with it though-“

Kas gave a comforting smile at that before replying. “You really have an odd idea of what ‘bothering’ someone is. If I can help, just ask.”

“I- Thank you.” A rare smile managed to reach the corners of his mouth for a second before once again fading.

“So, what are the letters about?”

Corvus took a second to think, like he hadn’t expected her to ask. “You know how I covered up my face in Drizzlewood?”

Kas nodded.

“I-“ Corvus chuckled. “After everything… After Zhaitan even- I tried to return, y’know?” Corvus looked past Kas, like she wasn’t there.

“Why?”

“Going back to my life after everything… It seemed impossible. I couldn’t- I can’t connect with people who haven’t seen those things. And I thought I was, well, saving them I suppose.” Corvus sighed, he knew how wrong that idea was now.

“And then Almorra-“ he cleared his throat, trying to compose himself. A good soldier doesn’t show sadness. “I just couldn’t face the Charr after that. Couldn’t look them in the eyes knowing that they knew I couldn’t even keep Soulkeeper alive.” He sounded angry, Kas knew it was mostly directed at himself. That was pretty normal for Corvus.

“Sure, Ash agents knew who I was, but- that’s Ash. I knew they wouldn’t tell on me to Blood or Iron, and certainly not Flame.” Corvus sighed. “I hid, because I can’t talk to people anymore, and I abandoned my warband because I couldn’t go back to my life, so I left.” Corvus shrugged like it was nothing, but Kas knew better.

“Corvus,” Kas reached out, placing a hand on the charr’s paw to comfort him. “If anyone would understand it would be your warband.”

“Euryale, sure, but I don’t even know the others. The ones who were there before I joined the pact are all dead.” Corvus chuckled. “Joined Bangar, had to kill them before we even crossed the river in Drizzlewood.”

“I’m… Sorry.” A look of concern spread its way across Kas’ face as she squeezed Corvus’ paw.

“I’m fine.”

“You know you don’t have to be, right?” Kas let out a chuckle.

“I do.”

#guild wars 2 #gw2 #gw2 fanfic #gw2 charr #gw2 commander #corvus blightstep #kasmeer meade #I HATE YOU ANET WHY WOULD YOU SAY THE COMMANDER DOESNT CHECK IN ON THEIR WARBAND

[drakeheart]

MEMORIA

Decima receives a visit from a ghost of her past, and is faced with a decision that will shape her fate. Set just before the start of IBS.

cw: trauma, manipulation

---

Waning rays of autumn sunlight carved golden paths through the mist-laden boughs of a secluded Ascalonian forest. Varinia Stormsounder picked her way carefully through this rugged terrain, noting the signs of her quarry: faint but recognizable scratches upon the bark of the trees marked out a carefully concealed trail. Its seemed her information had been good, after all.

As if to confirm, the dense underbrush soon gave way to a clearing, revealing a humble dwelling--a small grotto set against a rocky outcrop, complete with a makeshift scrap-metal door and several ill-tended patches of wild plants. Barely a settlement, but a sure sign that someone lived here.

Cautiously, she stepped forward and reached out to knock, but before her hand even made contact with the door, an arrow whistled past her head, lodging itself into the metal frame. Startled, she turned to see the looming silhouette of a tall female charr emerging from the treeline, bow at the ready, another arrow already nocked.

"…you. Why are you here? How did you find this place?" the charr growled, her voice deep and wary.

"Decima. It's… good to see you again." Varinia responded, doing her best to smooth down her bristling fur. "You're a difficult charr to track down, you know that?"

"Yes, and I intend to keep it that way. Now answer me, before I make you regret your efforts." She bared her teeth.

"Come now, is it too much to believe I simply wanted to catch up with an old friend?"

Decima's pull on the bowstring tightened. Varinia nervously cleared her throat.

"No, I, uh… I suppose not. But will you at least hear me out? I have a… proposition, of sorts. Something I believe you'll be very interested in. It'll be quick."

Decima's expression was unreadable, but after a few moments of tense consideration, she lowered her weapon. Varinia exhaled in relief, a wry smile curling across her muzzle.

"Excellent. I promise, you won't regret this."

---

The inside of the grotto was just as unassuming as the exterior. Charr did not typically live lavishly, gladium even less so, but this was meagre even by those standards. The room was barely furnished, with little more than a workbench, a straw-lined bed and a small table with a rickety stool. Upon being let in, Varinia had promptly perched herself upon the single seat, so Decima paced restlessly about the floor, listening as the smaller charr spun her tale.

"…a legion rally? Why are you telling me about this?" she rumbled, scowling deeply.

"It's not about the rally, but what comes next. Bangar has plans for the future of the charr. He seeks to forge a new era, one of unity and strength. All charr beneath a single banner, legion and gladium alike. No one left behind."

"That seems unlikely." Decima snorted, shaking her head. Her voice then grew quiet. "Besides… the legions made it very clear that I have no place with them anymore. Old, or new."

"Decima…" Varinia sat up straight, her expression serious. "What the legions did to you is disgraceful. Despicable, even. After all those years, all that you'd done for them, and your warband--"

"You keep them out of your mouth." Decima snarled, suddenly rearing up to her full height, her scarred face contorting with anger. Varinia couldn't help but flinch.

"Fine! Fine." she yielded, holding up her hands. "But it doesn't have to be this way. Gladia deserve better than this. You deserve better."

Decima turned away, struggling to maintain her composure, fighting against the sudden tide of fragmented memories flashing through her head. Searing flame, twisted steel, shattered bone. The remnants of all she had lost. Wounds even time couldn't heal.

She took a deep breath.

"Even if that were true…" she hissed out bitterly, "Why would an imperator want a crippled old gladium like me in his ranks? He's got the pick of the legions. I've been out of the fight for... years, now. What purpose could I even serve?"

"You and I both know that a soldier like you doesn't simply retire." Varinia rapped her claws across the table, leaning forward intently and fixing her with a stare. "You're no wretch, Decima. War is in your blood. Even if you can't fight quite as you used to, you're nothing if not… adaptable."

Decima shifted uncomfortably, suddenly wondering just how much the charr had poked her nose into.

"I didn't let you in here so you could stroke my tail, Stormsounder." she retorted stiffly.

"No, I don't imagine you did." Varinia's stare was relentless. "But you do know that I'm right."

Decima remained silent for a long moment, keeping her eyes averted, then spoke again.

"…do you really believe he can change things?"

"Bangar is strong! He has seen the rot that festers at the heart of the Black Citadel, and he intends to excise it." Varinia's voice rose with fervor and pride. "He is the only one who lead us to claim to our rightful place! But he alone is not enough, we need unity, for in unity there is--"

"Don't preach at me. A simple 'yes' would have been enough."

"…very well. Yes, I do." Varinia sighed, rising from her seat and stepping closer. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't. Decima, I want this change. For the charr. For you."

Decima startled as a hand softly touched her arm, turning instinctively to find herself transfixed by Varinia's bright blue eyes, glittering in the dim light of the grotto. A new memory tugged at the back of her mind, of warm youth and feelings left unspoken--long since buried, now drifting dangerously close to the surface. A time she yearned for nothing more than this gentle touch.

She tore herself away.

"…it's getting late. You should go."

"I… suppose you're right." Varinia reluctantly withdrew her paw and began to make her way towards the door. "Just… promise me you'll give this a chance. Come to the rally, hear what Bangar has to say, and make your own decision. You deserve that, at least."

"I'll think about it. Now, leave."

She paused at the threshold, casting a final glance over her shoulder at the gladium behind her.

"Trust me, sister. I'm offering you a place in the new world. You need only to come and take it."

---

Long after the other charr had left, Decima stood still in the doorway of her home, staring silently out into the darkening forest. A cold breeze threaded its way through the trees, ruffling her fur as it slipped past, carrying with it the promise of coming frost. The seasons were once again preparing to change.

Perhaps this time she would join them.

#gw2 #gw2 fanfic #charr #rhys writes about gw2 #c: decima soulspire #waugh. i am nervous about posting this. #hope you like indulgent fic about sad and fucked up cats #bc that's all i got babey

[neverloseguy]

Imagine if there are people protesting the Mists War after the whole Elder Dragon thingy...

Recruiter: You're wasting time by standing here, go fight in The Mists and help our world!

Some random Charr: We can't even solve our problems at our own soil; the Branded, the Ascalonian Ghosts, the Separatists, and you expect us to fight for you?

Recruiter: None of these problems will matter if our world is being invaded by warmongers from The Mists-

Some random Charr: It matters for me, and my hands are full. Go figure out your own problems.

-----

Citizen: So...why are you trying to fight them? Couldn't you just...leave them alone?

Recruiter: These threats will not go away on its own! We need numbers to defend our own lives and the ones you care about!

Citizen: But that doesn't answer my question...why are you trying to fight these 'threats'? You wouldn't need to defend yourselves if you don't attack-

Recruiter: Am I talking to a brick wall? You have no idea what it's like there.

Citizen: And how do YOU know what it's like there?

Recruiter: You clearly haven't been into the Mists War yourself.

Citizen: And I have no interest in joining your war.

-----

Angry Citizens: SAY NO TO MIST WAR!

Angry Citizens: MAKE PEACE, NOT WAR!

Angry Citizens: DO NOT TRUST MIST WARRIORS!

-----

Dude 1: You wouldn't believe it but...one of my friends isn't from this world.

Dude 2: Really? What's it like to meet them?

Dude 1: She's just like the rest of us. Same look, same language, same everything.

Dude 2: If that is true, why are we even fighting?

Dude 1: You tell me.

-----

Citizen: I was told that we waged war against other Tyrias for resources?

Recruiter: That...is true.

Citizen: But what for? We are not under the terror of the Elder Dragons anymore, we don't need to invade their worlds.

Recruiter: No, that's...not...we are not 'invading' anyone's worlds. We are defending ours.

Citizen: If you think that, wouldn't you believe that others will think the same from the other side? And if that is true...what would be the reason for war exactly?

Recruiter: Look...if what you say is true, we wouldn't be standing here fighting against the Mist Invaders.

Citizen: Or maybe you fight as long as you do because you ARE the Invaders yourselves?

Recruiter: What? No, that's ridiculous...I would never...no...

#gw2 #guild wars 2 #gw2 fan submission #gw2 fanfic #gw2 wvw

[otvian]

Fucking god I finally made a story for my asura I like,,,

Basically Marcell lives in a cave where he made his own kingdom full of his clones (he is a mesmer) and he will only listen to people who respect him as the king of Marcelldom.

He acts like every clone has their own personality and is their own person but they all are still named "Marcell 1, Marcell 2, Marcell 3".

He is very paranoid and rarely leaves his kingdom.

#guild wars 2 asura #gw2 #gw2 oc #gw2 fanfic #gw2 character story #asura

[sylvarisalad]

New ✨spicy✨ Sylvari fic

Hello GW2 nerds! I know I haven't done anything with Tumblr in a FAT minute but I wanted to share something I've been working on! A couple years ago I worked on a fic called Reaper's Rising, a very spicy M/M Sylvari fix featuring a male Sylvari OC and Trahearne. It hasn't been updated in a loooong time. Instead of continuing it I decided to restart it with a new outline and much better writing (considering I'm quite a few years older and out of college lmao). SO if you're into very spicy, very gay fics about plant men, check it out if you have a chance! I hope you enjoy it! https://archiveofourown.org/works/53655082/chapters/135824398

#gw2 #guild wars 2 #sylvari #guild wars #gw2 necromancer #gw2 sylvari #gw2 fanfic

[elder-dragon]

Sugar On My Wounds

5307 words | General Nephus x Sylvari Commander

Rating: Mature Kindly read the tags on AO3!!!

Summary:

After the coliseum, General Nephus has a proposition for the Commander—one hero to another.

Takes place after the end of "Eventide's March" chapter in Secrets of the Obscure.

#general nephus #my writing #guess who's been obsessing abt Nephus since patch day! #gw2 fanfic

[guildtree]

Other Writers Appreciation

Alright, here we go again! Now that I've shared my own writing, time to pick on some other people in the GW2 community!

We've got my friend @accidentallyadorable, also known as casualloveroflesbians, also known as the person who wrote a truly terrifying amount of Kasjory fic! As in literally they are half of the tag; I've highlighted my favorites here. She's written a whole bunch of other good stuff too (including very spicy stuff I've heard is quite effective but am too asexual to judge myself) with a variety of different canon characters, so I would honestly recommend just going through his backlog and picking whatever you like - it will last you a while. We've got my other friends @dualumina and their ongoing Zommoros/Miyani fics that I always look forward to (and they will also answer your comments with giant infodumps, which is always fun.) And my other other friend @commanderkenegalle (Deathicus_Sling) who wrote the best Trahearne and best Trammander I've ever read here - it will hurt you and it should. @fireskarr(Skarrfics) wrote an excellent Mai-Trin-lives Wintersday fic here. @draw-you-coward (WingsOfTime) has a writing style I adore and if you're into Canach and Trammander you'll probably love all their stuff, but here are my favorites.

People I only know on Ao3: if you want charr/human romance Mimiga has a series for you, which also has an awesome plot and a cool dervish character! The new ongoing entry is wonderful and their oneshot with Joon and Kuunavang discussing Soo-Won's demise has incredible characterization. Teratornis's slice-of-life Canthan oneshot is funny and features great descriptions. Endothyme has a fantastic classic messed up Mai Trin here. sparxwrites's tumblr seems to have vanished, but they wrote a terrifying Countess Anise here. And if you love OC stuff, Nibswrites and antelopunny have such a wide variety of characters that you'll probably find something even if you skim these two.

And if you just want ABSOLUTE CRACK: here, here, and here.

Again, feel free to reblog and spread this with your favorite writers attached, GW2 or not, whether you got tagged or not! Fanfic writers do not get enough appreciation for all the wonderful work they do.

#gw2 #guild wars 2 #gw2 fanfic #gw2 fanfiction #writing #kasjory #zommoros #miyani #trahearne #mai trin #gw2 joon

[dualumina]

Seductions of the Obscure

CHAPTER 2!

The Commander has felled dragons, gods, and hearts aplenty. But can they prevail when the mysterious voice from their thoughts offers more than sweet words?

Commander x Peitha fic

Added tags: Consensual Possession, Stripping, Voyeurism, Kissing

#gw2 #peitha #gw2 peitha #commander x peitha #snargle goldclaw #gw2 fanfic #wayfinder x peitha #gw2 soto

[i-mybrunettelady]

Ivre d'un rêve heroïque et brutal

Summary: Commander is trying to recover from her last fight with her latest enemy. Unfortunately, it’s not a smooth sailing. Content warnings: Mild blood and mentions of injury. Spoilers: Heavy spoilers for What Lies Beneath (LWS6) Title taken from José-Maria de Heredia’s sonnet, Les Conquérants.

It’s the first time she’s slept for the entirety of the night in days. Nyra’s well familiar with the blurred edges of working on interrupted, bad, or straight up absent sleep; this morning snapped into sharp focus that hasn’t left her since. 

That’s all thanks to Trahearne, his calming presence and the spell he’d devised years ago to combat this very problem. With a frustrated sigh, she admits to herself she couldn’t have done it herself. Allies are a good thing after all, she jokes inwardly, though it fails to produce more than passing, brief amusement. These days, few things can.

It’s been seven days since their encounter with the demon in the mine. Not nearly enough time to recover from merciless claws digging into her regrets and barely healed wounds, not nearly enough time to stop the terrified shake of her hands in the morning. At first, she woke in cold sweat and with trembling shoulders, wiping away tears beading in her eyes still. She could feel Rama and Yao’s sympathetic grimaces and her first instinct was to throw them in their faces. Who the fuck are they to question her strength? 

Thankfully, Nyra isn’t a slave to her instincts and she reminds herself that they both mean well and that they’re friends. Rama’s hand on her shoulder suddenly feels comforting, a far cry from the initial anger she felt bubbling inside her. Oftentimes, she leans into him, lets out a sad, exhausted groan and he wraps his hands around her. It only lasts for a minute or so, but she already feels steadier on her feet. 

Then Trahearne comes, vivacious green in the sea of jade (too vivacious for a necromancer, she thinks; another one of those brief, passing jokes she keeps telling herself) and joins her on her bedroll. His lips are soft on her forehead, his fingers gentle when they rub up and down her arm. That steadies her too. Sharply, she thinks when will Oni decide to fuck with that regret as well. 

It’s only a matter of time, really. And she has to be prepared.

“I’ll help heal injuries here,” she tells Trahearne one night, curled beside him on the bedroll. She looks at her hands. “If I think too hard about things, I’m almost half-sure the demon will have more ammo to use against me. I need something to keep myself occupied.” 

His remaining eye squints slightly. “But you won’t overwork yourself, yes?”

“I can try,” Nyra replies quietly. Her breakdown in Eye of the North is still too fresh to forget. “I can’t promise I won’t slip into it by accident. My head feels so heavy I don’t trust myself not to do it.” 

“I can watch you,” he proposes, reaching out to hold her hand. “Make sure you’re as good as you can reasonably be for Gorrik’s idea.” He considers. “I’m not sure I like it, Lyss. I know what it feels like and to see you go through it–” 

She laughs bitterly. “What other option do we have? If I have to play a sacrificial lamb, I will. Gods know I’ve done so more than once. Gods also know it’s brutal every time but if there were any other alternative, we’d have pursued it already!” She closes her eyes and exhales. “I don’t like it any more than you do, Trahearne. It’s gonna suck so bad, but someone has to do it. When my torture draws the damn thing out, just hit it until it’s dead.” 

“Lyss,” he repeats and pulls her close. “I just don’t want to see you in pain.” 

“I didn’t sign up to be who I am now to live a comfortable life,” she says. “If I wanted that, I would’ve been just another noblewoman from Divinity’s Reach. Me, just another noblewoman? Gods forbid.” 

Trahearne purses his lips. “Just take care of yourself, please.”

“I can try,” she repeats and means it. She can try. Has to, even. 

So here she is, in the mining camp’s healing corner in Gyala Delve, spreading pale blue light on an open injury on a woman’s arm. It’s an ugly one, obviously painful, and Nyra’s not the best of the best at healing, not by a long shot, but she can make these people feel better. She knows her way around poultices, salves and stitches. She knows healing magic, Dwayna’s blessing. In a twisted way, the metallic tang of blood is comforting, familiar. It’s a residue of battle and she gets to wipe it off, but the scent remains. 

Battle never leaves you, after all. She knows as much. 

The injured woman groans when Nyra guides her magic to stitch the flesh shut. Guardian healing can, in truth, feel a little invasive. Despite the supposedly unsettling way her eyes look, Nyra never breaks eye contact when she guides her down and whispers in a soft tone, “Rest now. It’ll feel better in a bit. And do try to not strain that arm much for the next few days, yeah?” 

“Yes, Commander,” the woman intones, exhausted but still horribly formal. Nyra pushes sweaty hair from her forehead and smiles slightly. She knows it doesn’t look very convincing - people think she’s angry half the time, for fuck’s sake - but she tries anyway. 

Dying light of day reflects, rickety, in the reflection of the water bowl where she washes her hands. For a brief moment, Nyra observes the way blood sticks to the scars on her hands and knuckles, bright red against faintly scorched skin. Once, she would’ve shivered in discomfort over running her fingertips over it, but now it’s a part of her. 

There’s so much blood on her hands. The thought comes uninvited, sneaky little shit. Nyra vividly remembers Apatia’s blood on her hands when she killed her ten years ago. Trahearne’s sap, when she ran through him with Caladbolg, seven years ago. What had Almorra said? That she hasn’t changed, that all she does is kill and corrupt? Nyra turns sharply to the injured woman. Her arm is still red, but mostly fine. 

If she wasn’t careful, she could’ve killed her. 

Nyra’s never washed her hands faster in her life. She leaves wet handprints on the wooden table as she leans over it, watching her own wide eyes in the bloodied surface of the water, trying to catch her breath. In and out. In and out. 

Hands hover over her arms. She knows Trahearne’s presence like the palm of her hand, a heavy blanket against her shivering body. “Are you alright?” he asks, hushed. Nyra shakes her head and grips the table tightly. 

“I think I need to take a break,” she says. Before, she would’ve pushed herself, powered through the panic; now she needs every bit of that strength she can muster. One battle, a failure at that, doesn’t mean the end of a war. She must strategise, try to outmaneuver that fucking creature. 

She feels her breathing even out. Trahearne’s holding her arms in a comforting grip, but it’s the tactical approach that makes her think straight once more. She’s a soldier, after all; why not use what’s at her disposal as such? Still, her hands are shaking and she still feels like a giant, human-shaped, raw wound. 

“Do you want to get something to eat?” Trahearne lets go of her arms to hold her hand. “Some tea?” 

“Tea would be nice,” she replies, holding onto the way he rubs her fingers like a lifeline. “Very, very nice.” 

He leans over to softly kiss her on the lips. “We’ll get one cup of tea for the lady, then,” he whispers. 

She’ll outmaneuver the enemy however she must, one cup of tea at the time.

#gw2 #inspo birb has come to town #eod spoilers #lws6 spoilers #alysannyra #trahearne #trammander #detective rama #hi im jumping on the angst fic train :)))) #also the image of a nyra with rbf and just. muted emotionless eyes smiling slightly as a way to comfort someone is sending me #that woman has many things but a comforting face? god no #still she tries #and we have a trahearne!!! #we missed him!!! #anyway. enjoy this fic #return of the nyra #gw2 pact commander #gw2 writing #gw2 fanfic #my writing

[commanderhorncleaver]

this is all only a journey

August stood with his knife at the ready, his former mentor watching from across the field. The older charr scrutinized him carefully before raising his sword and shield–but still he didn’t move. It was almost painfully nostalgic; at a glance, Zerek hadn’t changed much, from his simple garb to his plated helm. Beneath it, the sandy-furred charr’s black mask had grayed, but given his experience with his own sire, August doubted the passage of time had dulled the old cat’s senses or reflexes much, if at all.

“What are we waiting for, old man? I know you aren’t afraid I’ve improved that much.”  The click of Zerek’s tongue was audible from twenty paces away, and August didn’t fight the grin that brought to his muzzle. “The match will continue until one of us is at the other’s mercy. Use the spells you’ve honed since we last met, but don’t involve bystanders. Weak-minded souls won’t always be at your disposal.” 

August charged the moment Zerek finished stating the terms. He swung his blade upwards as he ran, releasing energy along the ground to sweep towards his mentor–as it exploded forward, bright luminescent magic mixed with dirt and stone, he shrouded himself and ducked away. Zerek charged through the wave of earth and magic as it hit him, and three copies of the old charr materialized in formation around him on the other side of the resulting cloud of debris, on watch for August’s attack. He could hear the other charr’s thoughts like his old mentor was shouting them aloud, Come out, Augustus. Where will you strike from?

A clone of August took form and shot forward towards Zerek, and as it ran forward, three phantasms split from it. Zerek responded without hesitation. Two of his phantasms intercepted August’s clone, running it through the neck and chest with their swords, and the third threw his shield, charged with magic, in a powerful arc that punched through the psychic projections August’s clone had generated. As the phantasms shattered into glimmering purple shards that danced and glistened in the air, the shield slowed before returning to its owner’s paw.  “You know that’s not enough to distract me, Augustus!” The Zereks called out together. “I’d have thought you’d be better at facing your enemies by now, after so long with your sire?”

“Of course,” August said, stepping out of his shroud, knife in paw, behind the group of Zereks. “Let’s dance, old man.” August slashed with his knife, freeing one phantasm of its sword arm, and stepped into the group of Zereks. A Zerek jumped away while two others swung at him–their attacks were brutally cut short as streaks of amethystine light shot through their chests, shattering their magic as August mentally tugged at the remains of his projections which Zerek had just destroyed. 

The magic of Zerek’s apparitions destabilized and August blinked forward as they exploded, lunging his knife forward at the older charr’s torso. The gleaming pink blade was parried away by the other charr’s sword, and there their dance began in earnest. He slashed and stabbed while Zerek blocked and evaded–anytime the older charr would attempt a strike of his own, August would simply allow the blade to glide through him as the amethyst needles that floated in an array behind him winked in and out of existence. August had learned a lot in the twelve years he’d been working alongside his sire, but the most important thing his old man had imparted upon him, perhaps, was patience–this, he hoped, was enough to handle Zerek’s precognizance. Whenever Zerek’s form blurred and a clone would appear, he would launch a needle out to destroy it, all while continuing to press his advantage against his former mentor. This, however, was only a means to an end: Zerek’s first lesson to him, after all, was that a mesmer’s greatest strength was the array of weapons at his disposal. 

The telltale ticking of Zerek’s chronomancy began slow and echoing in August’s ears as the older shaman’s eyes glowed bright behind the visor of his helmet. The younger charr had tried to replicate it himself many times in the previous months–he knew its distinctive sound as well as he’d memorized the older charr’s lessons, but as of yet, he’d been unable to reproduce the specific unraveling of chaos that Zerek could unleash.  “Your old man really has been a good influence, hm?” Zerek grunted as he weaved away from a swipe of August’s knife. “I have to admit, I didn’t approve at first.” “Suppose so. It was bound to happen eventually,” August answered as he shot his needles away from him in a fan, one behind them and one to his left and right. The old man’s shield shattered the only one that went for him, and August ceased his barrage of spellcasting and blade swinging. 

Zerek’s magic reached its zenith, and August could see the smirk stretch across the older charr’s muzzle–his old mentor knew he’d won. His stomach shifted as the spell activated and his eyes flared: Gaius had never fully explained how his spell-jacking worked, but he’d seen it in play numerous times during the early days–as with most things, that was generally enough for him to pick up on how something worked enough for him to replicate it. Unlike his sire, he had to stop his own casting whenever he stole someone else’s spell, but if the situation was right, it wouldn’t matter that he was defenseless for a moment.  Here and now, time slowed to a halt around he and Zerek: airborne debris, sweat, and even both charr’s breathing decelerated to an almost imperceptible crawl. Exactly two seconds relative stretched into ninety seconds experienced–and then August jerkily finished his breath as his spell took hold of the well of magic beneath them, releasing him from its grip on space-time. He doubled over, paws on his knees from the exertion, and two more seconds passed before August teleported back to where one of his needles waited where their magic had clashed earlier, and then he transmuted his two remaining needles into clones. He peered through their eyes and saw from three angles the bright dome of pink light. Each version of him raised his paw, and as the well finally began to pop from bottom to top like a bright bubble, they let loose a torrent of needles into it. 

The psionic blades sang as they flew along the wind, shredding the air itself as they shattered the bubble and pincushioned the charr inside. Five seconds passed before he dropped his paw–his clones dissipated with the last of the blades, and August called, “If you’re gonna counter, I think now’s a good time for it!” Dust obscured his vision, and August realized he had indeed gone a bit overboard when the shifting of sand alerted him to Zerek’s movement. The older charr stepped out of the dust cloud entirely nude, armor shredded except for his helmet, and growled, “No, I think you’ve made your point.”  August whistled appreciatively. The older charr sighed as he pulled off his helmet and situated it to protect his modesty. “What is it that you want from me after so long, Augustus?” August sighed, but kept his smile as he looked at Zerek. “I need your help, I think.”

#horncleaver content #horncleaver fic #Augustus Silverhorn #Zerek Mindrender #gw2 fanfic #gw2 oc #charr #charr oc #gw2 #Zerek belongs to @meeeeeeese

[thatonebirbnerd]

Twined In Thorns

Siofra challenges her liege’s title, and a trial by combat becomes a trial in the bedroom. When both sylvari are used to being the one giving orders, who can come out… quite literally on top?

In which an ace writer's Nightmare Court blorbos are much spicier than she is. Not safe for work whatsoever. Involves all four letters of BDSM, and then some.

Read on AO3 [NSFW]

#guild wars 2 #gw2 #gw2 fanfic #kestrel writes #well look at me just diving headlong into writing smut lmao

[ratasum]

In the aftermath of Claw Island, taking care of one's family gets difficult for the members of Artistic Integrity... (part 1)

No one seemed to know what to say. After they were settled into temporary barracks following informing the Captain’s Council of the wave of Risen preparing to make for their shores, an uneasy silence had fallen. So many lives had been lost, and for what? More would die if they couldn’t figure out how to retake that island.

Rissia, however, had other things on her mind. Pulling on a cloak to protect her from the chilly breeze off the ocean well after last light fell, she’d made for rooftop, sitting down quietly on an overhang to look out at the sleeping city unfurled before her. A few moments later, a second form sat on that same overhang, and she jerked her head around, startled to find Vezz sitting there, his hands folded in his lap, red eyes focused over the harbor.

“It’s a chilly evening, isn’t it? I don’t get to Lion’s Arch often.”

For a moment, Rissia didn’t answer, her ears twitching. At last, however, she gave a gentle sigh and followed his gaze, picking at a loose thread on her cloak with her claw tips. “...that’s not why you’re up here, is it?”

He didn’t start or seem surprised. He just chuckled, a mirthless smile crossing his face. “Mmh, I... suppose that’s true. I was worried, if I’m being honest. It’s been… quite a day.” He paused, and the smile faded. “I’m sorry about your sister. Will she be all right?”

“She… she will be. It’ll take some time. She’s- she’s so bright, and clever. A genius in every sense. But this… oh, Vezz, I never meant for her to see this sort of horror! She wanted to have adventures, you know. That’s all I wanted to give her.”

#gw2 fan submission #gw2 fanfic #gw2 asura #gw2 commander #claw island #bunny writing #keeper vezz #arcanist rissia #qirri tinkerfirst

[valiaint]

Stained Glass (Chap 5, Path of Fire)

When a stray fireball from Balthazar takes out half of the wooden stairway, Teraphany summons wings of light to bring her up instead, just barely making it onto the next ledge. “You’re fucking dead when I get back!” Her hands dig straight into the rotting wood, and she pulls herself up before continuing her reckless sprint. “I’ll never forgive you! I’ll--!” The whole world shakes around Teraphany, nearly knocking her back off the edge. Balthazar lets out a loud, rippling laugh, and it’s enough to set Teraphany on fire alone. “I’m the one who gets to decide if I want to fight,” she rasps, and even as the desert itself quakes under Balthazar’s wrath, she continues to drag herself up the steps, then the rocks, carelessly cutting her palms on the jagged cliff face. “I’m the one who decides if I want to put my life on the line! NO ONE tells me what to do! I’m not under anyone’s control but myself! I’m doing this duty with you because there’s nowhere else in this stupid, godforsaken world that I’d choose to be!” She leaps across a final gap in the bridge, and finally, she pulls herself up onto the top of the spire. “Do you hear me, Erin?! I’m--” There’s nothing left on the peak except clear desert skies and a burnt corpse. Teraphany doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t even realise what she’s doing until a bird perches onto Erin’s broken body, landing as gracefully as snowfall. Her hands fly to her greatbow to shoot it out of the sky, because she can’t-- no fucking desert scavenger is going to pick at Erin when she’s-- "What are you doing?” When Raven speaks to her, voice as cold as the snowstorm where Erin found him, Teraphany knows that there is no more playing pretend. “She’s already dead.”

Path of Fire, huh.

AO3 link

#fic: stained glass #teraphany #gw2 #gw2 fic #gw2 fanfic #gw2 fanfiction #gw2 writing #path of fire sure is a... #path of fire #gw2 pof #pof #also #rytlock/canach #why is there so little rytlock/canach #what the hell is going ON between those two #rytnach