#journey to the [relic] | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

journeytothewestresearch · 1 year

Text

Buddhist Dragon Balls

I first became interested in Journey to the West thanks to the manga/anime Dragon Ball Z. The series is named after a set of seven glass-like orbs (fig. 1) that were created by the Namekian-turned-protector deity Kami for the benefit of mankind. When all seven are collected, they summon the dragon god Shenron, who grants a single wish. One common wish is to resurrect a beloved fighter who had previously been killed in battle.

The seven dragon balls.

But what would the Dragon Balls be like if they appeared in the Journey to the West universe? There are two possibilities. The first is the most obvious, the Cintāmaṇi (Sk: "wish-fulfilling jewel"; Ch: ruyi baozhu, 如意寶珠, lit: "as-you-will treasure jewel"). Also known as "dragon jewels" (longzhu, 龍珠), these luminous orbs are commonly held by Bodhisattvas in Buddhist art (fig. 2), thereby signifying their ability to grant any wish that a believer may have. They are also mentioned in Buddhist scripture. For instance, the Treatise of the Great Perfection of Wisdom (Sk: Mahāprajñāpāramitāśāstra; Ch: Da zhidu lun, 大智度論, c. 2nd-century) reveals that the Cintāmaṇi is a bodily relic found in the brains of dragon kings (longzhu chu longnao zhong, 龍珠出龍腦中) (Buswell & Lopez, 2014, p. 193). Therefore, we would be able to maintain the connection to dragons in Journey to the West.

A 14th-century Korean painting of the Earth Store Bodhisattva holding a Cintāmaṇi.

In East Asia, the Cintāmaṇi is closely associated with our second possibility, the Śarīra (Sk: "body"; Ch: Sushe/zi, 舍利/子) (fig. 3). These pearl-like beads figure among the bodily relics left over from the historical Buddha's cremation. [1] Strong (2004) explains: "[They are the result] of a process of metamorphosis brought on not only by the fire of cremation but also by the perfections of the saint (in this case the Buddha) whose body they re-present" (p. 12).

They are said to come in different colors and sizes depending on the country and religious tradition (Strong, 2004, p. 11).

Photo of Śarīra relics.

Journey to the West could have one or even both of these bodily relics. For example, the Cintāmaṇi would allow demon kings or lesser spirits to wish for powerful heavenly weapons, thereby helping them fight stronger opponents; or, the Śarīra could grant the devils more spiritual power, thereby allowing them to bypass centuries of spiritual cultivation.

But neither of these items could help evil beings achieve immortality. I've previously noted that Journey to the West was heavily influenced by the Buddho-Daoist philosophy of the Southern Quanzhen School Patriarch Zhang Boduan (張伯端, mid to late-980s-1082). He believed that in order to become a true transcendent (xian, 仙), one had to achieve both the Daoist elixir of immortality and Buddha-nature (Shao, 1997; 2006). The first extends your life, while the second frees you from the endless rounds of rebirth. While the aforementioned spiritual objects may grant them divine longevity, it won't make them unkillable. And if they are killed, they would still be subject to the wheel of reincarnation. It would be up to them to achieve the last step in this two-step process. But that would require these spirits to mend their evil ways and “return to the right path” (gui zheng, 歸正)⁠—i.e. convert to Buddhism.

Note:

There are three main types of Buddha relics: 1) those of the body left over from his cremation (hair, teeth, nails, bones, and Śarīra beads); 2) those that he used (walking staff, alms bowl, robes, etc.); and 3) those that he taught (i.e. lessons from scripture) (Strong, 2004, p. 8).

Sources:

Buswell, R. E., & Lopez, D. S. (2014). The Princeton Dictionary of Buddhism. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.

Shao, P. (1997). Monkey and Chinese Scriptural Tradition: A Rereading of the Novel Xiyouji (UMI No. 9818173) [Doctoral dissertation, Washington University]. Available from ProQuest Dissertations and Theses database.

Shao, P. (2006). Huineng, Subhūti, and Monkey’s Religion in “Xiyou ji”. The Journal of Asian Studies, 65(4), 713-740. Retrieved from www.jstor.org/stable/25076127.

Strong, J. S. (2004). Relics of the Buddha. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.

#Dragon Ball #Dragon Balls #wish fulfillment #Journey to the West #dragon jewels #JTTW #Lego Monkie Kid #Buddha relics #Cintamani #Sarira #body relic #holy relic #Sun Wukong #Monkey King #Son Goku #Goku

34 notes · View notes

aubins · 9 months

Text

＊ unfettered will fare the fenris wolf .

fetters of dromi awakening drabble. ‘ awakened on 08 . 04 . 23 ’ . 837 words

　 “This is a story about regret.”

When you are four, a man collapses on your doorstep.

At first, you think he is dead— and it would not be the first time. When the plague first swept through Faerghus, snatching babes from their mothers and fathers from their sons, death had become an old friend. Each life lost was immortalized in letters that your mother received from places that were not home, in funerals held for strangers that you would cross paths with on the street, in the old houses that started to empty out, until there were more ghosts than people haunting the town.

“Hey, mister,” you say, nudging him with a foot. “Dying here is rude. Mama says it’s bad luck.” And only when the stranger rolls over, staring at you with empty, but blinking eyes do you jump, crashing backward against the door. “Mama!” you wail, voice raising as you fumble for the doorknob. “Mama! There’s a dead guy!”

Later, when the old man is asleep in mama’s bed in the next room and you both share the worn out sofa, she chides you for calling him dead. That it’s important to be kind and rude to speak ill of others.

(Mama is a liar, though. Sometimes, you see her scowl at a letter that you can’t read when she thinks you don’t see, hear her curse a lousy bastard under her breath when she thinks you don’t hear.)

You don’t say anything about how he might die anyway, despite her best efforts. It’s not the plague— he really would be dead if it was, and you and mama would follow soon after— but it’s not anything that mama knows how to help with either. She’s not a healer, not like the mages that sometimes pass through the town for the night, but she’s lived alone enough to know how to tend to a fever.

By the time the season turns to spring, the old man is well enough to walk again. Mama asks for no payment, but when he catches you staring at him writing his thin, slanted letters into a leather notebook, he asks if you’d like to learn how to write. You think about the letters mama hides away in a locked drawer and ask him if he can teach you how to read too.

It’s a selfish ask from a child he barely knows, but he just seats you in his lap and puts his notebook in your hands.

　 “Huh? Why regret?”

Sometimes, when you’re practicing your letters, the elder will tell you stories. One of his hands will wrap around your waist to keep you from falling from his lap, the other settled over the hand you’re not using to write. When you are older, most of them will be reduced to hazy memories, as most of your time with him shall be, but you will remember the important stories. The important memories.

You do not have a father. You wonder if it would feel like this if you did.

…Probably not, but you know he’s family. That’s nice, you think.

　 “Well, Regulus…the heroes of this story couldn’t save anyone.”

In winter, you almost die.

　 “Can't they try again? Save someone else?”

If it hadn’t been for him, you would have.

　 “Maybe. Their failure blinded them for a long time.”

In spring, the elder dies.

You think that somehow, he knows it’s coming. The night before you find his unmoving body, he doesn’t tell you your usual bedtime story. When you go to say goodnight, he calls your name, “Regulus,” murmured gently as he beckons you closer. “Promise that you’ll grow up well, hm?”

Maybe you should have promised. If you knew, you would have. Instead, your face crumples into a faint frown, your arms crossing. “You sound like mama.”

He laughs. “Your mother is very smart. It’s an honorable comparison.”

“He was kind of weird,” you tell mama when you bury him, “but I liked him.”

Mama smiles, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, and doesn’t even scold you for calling him weird. “I know, my star. I liked him too.”

　 “Do you think they would try again? If they had the chance?”

When you hear whispers of a Heroes’ Relic for a rare Crest that has come into the church’s possession, you are are struck with the inexplicable urge to have it. Fool’s errand it may be for anyone else to try and steal from the church, but if you believe in anything at all, then you believe in yourself.

You’ll have the relic. It’s only a matter of when.

　 He watches you for a long while before he answers.

Your heist is not perfect, but the relic is yours, in the end.

Fitted over the back of your hand, the Fetters of Dromi glow, warming like the ghost of a hand that once settled over your own.

Strangely, it fits you perfectly.

　 “...Perhaps, child. But I think they might pray they never have to.”

#❛　𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒. 　 anything lost to you is what needs to be #“isn't this supposed to be about yuri's journey with the fetters of dromi”#uhhh looks at heroes relic lore and looks away #i don't know how i feel about this honestly but i've rewritten it too many times so i'm just sending it

11 notes · View notes

achilleid · 2 years

Text

EPYLLION { wip intro }

audience: new adult, adult (explicit violence and sexual content) genre: dark fantasy pov: trio third person limited, past tense rep: bisexual characters, gay characters, transgender character, character with emotional intensity disorder, multiple characters of color inspo: shadow of the colossus, gangs of new york, bloodborne, shadow and bone, final fantasy pinterest board: link spotify link: link tag list (+/-): @ladywithalamp @bebewrites @faelanvance @reowrites @pinespittinink @cream-and-tea @flowerprose @touchingmadness @measlywritingblog @inkingfireplace @muddshadow

Prologue and first four chapters: link

☾ SUMMARY ☽

Born without power in a land that covets nothing else, Shio Moravek has been outcasted and ostracized since the moment she was declared to be an illuni. "Moonless". One who can not manipulate the threads of reality to her will. Her position as the grand general's daughter provided her with protection, protection that vanishes in one night of bloodshed that will shake the foundation of her world to its hollow core— again.

✩ SETTING ✩

Argo is a wonder of Eldred making, the last remaining walled city built by the precurser race that came before. The final bastien of safety in a world of monsters and darkness, the city is Mavros' shining jewel... and the world's most desired conquest. The armistice between Mavros and the neighboring Illyrius has held true since the marraige of the Illyrian Emperor's daughter to the Mavronian king, an armistice that trembles on the brink of destruction. Outside the walls of the ancient city, the world has all but ended. The Eldred, in their hubris and desire for more power, had thrown the world to the edge of an abyss. A rift in the fabric of reality shattering the land and pouring out unnatural creatures and foul, incurable diseases that poisons what little remains to rot. And beneath? Beneath the hollows of this dying earth lays the Below. As mysterious as it is deep, it has held the secrets of the extinct Eldred for centuries, entombed in shadow. This is a world that has ended. A world shuddering its final death rattle while those lucky few cling to its last remaining life raft.

☾ Main POV Characters ☽

Shio Moravek; eldest daughter to Leos Moravek, the grand general of Mavros. Raised on duty and expectation in equal measure, Shio has always strived to be what she was expected to be— until the day she failed her testing and was proven to be an illuni. With her background mired in rumor, the proud and cold nobles of her homeland have shunned and rejected her all her life. Through her father's friendship with the king, she was admitted to the prestigious Anthea College to study spherence despite having no sphere of her own.

Leonores "Nell" Moravek; youngest daughter to Leos Moravek and the second most powerful spherest to be born in a century. Having inheirited her father's kineti abilities, much is also expected of Nell and her future as a protector of her homeland. Unlike her sister, Nell chaves beneath the chains of honor and duty, wishing instead for a freedom she may never be afforded.

Enoch Volkov; The thief lord's boy. The king's bastard. All Enoch's life, his parent's titles have proceeded his own identity— an identity no one is keen to let him forget. All his life he has been treated as a chip to cash, a favor to call in, ignoring at all times the gnawing desire in his chest to be more. To be the heir to a destiny of his own making... a wish he may grow to regret.

#wip; epyllion #writeblr #wip introduction #wip intro #current wip #there are three other 'silver trio' characters #but ill cover them in another post EVENTUALLLLY #the first book is 125k words long approximately #and ive edited 50k #im hoping to have it ready to be published sometime at the end of 2023 but WHO KNOWS #so essentially we spend the first half introing everyone and the world and then a coup happens and these three have to go on the run #with the kings bastard and a relic of the old world #it is very much part political intrigue part journey to the center of the earth #dark fantasy #original writing

53 notes · View notes

cola-vampire · 7 months

Text

Hey, real quick can we consider that comet Rufus Aldebaran (I fucking forgot his name he's so forgettable LMAOO) discovered is a catalyst comet from adventure time??

#professor layton #professor layton and the relics treasure #rufus aldebaran #laytons mystery journey #i had to dig for his wiki #but he found a comet heading straight for earth and estimated it to hit within a century and a decade #which would be proven to be off by the professor in the end before rufus fucking evaporates in some water #i want to say itd be the lichs comet but in this universe mf is late to the party #because aint no way in hell do the elementals like evergreen could co-exist with puzzles #and finns doesnt come until AFTER the mushroom war #unless its that yellow one orgalorg tried to snatch before grob gob grob gob nerfed him

2 notes · View notes

antihibikase-archive · 7 months

Text

Slater teams if he was chilling through each gen instead of focusing on being a trainer + adjusted gen 5 team thats different from the one he has in Blur/Blight

#antihibikase.txt #((Some Slater teams for AUs where he's not necessarily journeying to be champion or anything-))#((Like in Paldea its for a Relic Trio Paldea AU so he's just essentially trying to talk down Team Star))#((So for the most part! His team doesn't evolve. He's not focused on battling.))#((But that doesn't mean his Pokemon aren't strong!))#((But yeah. If he wasn't focused on battling/gym leader duties- in most AUs he just looks out for kids and Pokemon and sometimes gardens-))#((-or is a Pokemon psychology student.))#((These are also subject to change but for the most part. If not water he usually picks fire starters.))#((The reason I picked Treecko for the hoenn team is actually because. If I recall. Kurosawa has Torchic in Neela's ORAS run))#((And spqp picked Mudkip in its Pokefarm))#((So. Descante Mudkip Kurosawa Torchic and Treecko Slater..))#((And also because PMD <3))

2 notes · View notes

slaket-and-sprash · 1 year

Text

Y'all need to play these frogger games they're so underrated. Just avoid frogger the great quest at all cost.

Also where can I find the fandom to these games?

6 notes · View notes

terendelev · 2 years

Text

Bozja (final post)

NOOOO I hate this just want him back...

Miss Fran why are you so tall and gorgeous? (Calian had a unrequired crush on her lmao)

I wish that too Fran... Dalmasca as a region when?

Oh, so he is sick and dying?

Comparing their dialogue and the field note... Lyon knew that Noah would accuse him from what I have understand then why would he kill Noah? I think they faked his death for some reason? But if it is real what a shitty way to kill the main villain especially after him being absent during the entire questline.

#so it is the ending of my bozja journey...#i still need to do relics etc. but the questline is done #bozja spoilers

7 notes · View notes

jerriisspeakingnow · 8 months

Text

I can’t believe my Imbibitor Lunae is slapping as hard as he is and I haven’t even leveled up any of his relics.

#rant time!#personal #I don’t even have ANY of his relics leveled and he’s mopping the floor with the amount of damage he’s dealing #it’s the same as my Blade and he HAS relics that are leveled #my Imbibitor Lunae is dealing with an outgoing healing chest piece AND HIS DAMAGE RIVALS MY BLADE #(TRUST ME I’m working on getting that chest piece replaced ASAP the relic set bonus is currently worth it for now)#however the journey to get this man: absolutely embarrassing #…I may or may not have fucked up and while not paying attention spent my ~50 saved up rolls on his LIGHT CONE and not him (RIP)#HOWEVER my sister was ready to give me money so I could get him and fix my massive fuckup #and after LOSING TO YANQING I finally got both Imbibitor Lunae AND his light cone #guess all the fucking up I did worked out because I had no light cone for Imbibitor Lunae #I’m just currently obsessed and I will not allow him to leave my main team EVER #Honkai Star Rail #delete later? delete later

1 note · View note

nyrandrea · 7 months

Text

Everything's Fine

As you try to deal with everything that has been thrown at you so early into your journey: forced leadership, mindflayer tadpoles and taking on everybody's personal problems, it all just gets a bit too much for you.

(Takes place during Act 1)

Word Count - 3.5k

Also available to read here on AO3!

Enjoy!

xxx

You felt your patience starting to wear incredibly thin when you realised Astarion had been staring at you for over five minutes now.

Not directly, he would never be so conspicuous—at least, not intentionally— but you kept catching those fleeting glances he was throwing your way; the corners of his red eyes crinkling every so often before returning to whatever book he was pretending to read. It wasn’t one of those charming, smouldering gazes he would sometimes give you after a night of feeding, asking if you were alright, knowing full-well that your answer was a resounding ‘I’m fine’, and that you would provide for him again soon.

No, what he was doing right now—very carefully—was scanning you, studying you, judging you. It was as if he was trying to leer right through to your very soul.

You almost had half a mind to stomp over to his tent and demand what his problem was, but there were other unfortunate issues to contend with.

Namely Shadowheart and Lae'zel.

“I already told you that the artefact is my responsibility,” Shadowheart said, her aloof demeanour and confident tone betrayed by the hand hovering over the hilt of her dagger. “This way it will protect us all, I thought we had already established that!”

“We have established nothing,” Lae’zel hissed back. “We only agreed not to slit each other’s throats in the night, though...,” she grimaced. “I still have no reason to trust that you will not try again.”

“At least there’s still some sense in that bullish head of yours.”

“Tsk!” Lae’zel spat at Shadowheart’s feet, much to the latter’s disgust as she recoiled back. “However, the matter still stands that the relic you hold onto belongs to my people. Therefore, it should be in my possession!”

The cleric sneered. “I would sooner slit my own throat.”

“Then go right ahead. Nobody will stop you.”

Rubbing at your temples to try and ease the incoming migraine that, for once, was not caused by the mindflayer parasite living rent-free in your head, you decided to step in-between the two women, not really caring about risking a gutting from their trigger-happy blades.

“C’mon, we’re not seriously having this fight again?” You huff incredulously, the question already sounding stupid as soon as it left your mouth. Because of course they were having this fight again. They had it yesterday, and the day before that, and they were probably going to have it tomorrow as well.

“We are, as it happens,” Shadowheart replied, her eyes flickering briefly to you before narrowing forward again. “Because this savage bitch won’t leave me alone!”

Lae’zel bared her teeth in a cruel grin. “Better to be that than a revrykal of Shar.”

At the mention of her Goddess’s name, Shadowheart practically lunged herself towards Lae’zel with an enraged scream, her dagger raised high with the intention of plunging it straight into the githyanki’s chest, who in turn raised her shield to protect herself. In that moment, you were nothing to them but a speck of dust in the wind.

It wasn’t until your hand shot up in a blind panic when Shadowheart realised what she was doing, forcing her to suddenly pull back to avoid injuring you, only a moment too late as her knife slashed the palm of your hand. Blood sprayed across the ground as your short but pained cry echoed throughout the camp.

“Oh Gods...” Shadowheart muttered as everyone was suddenly on their feet and crowded around the three of you in a matter of moments. “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t... mean to...!”

“What? Attempt to kill our leader in cold blood?” Lae’zel muttered as she took your trembling hand to examine it, you only stared ahead as the shock took a moment to wear off. You didn’t even register her uncharacteristically gentle touch as she turned your palm up. “Only a flesh wound, you will live.”

“Still,” Astarion piped up from behind. “Perhaps it would be best to get that dressed up lest you attract any...*ahem* unsavoury visitors.”

“It would seem we already have,” Lae’zel replied, to which the vampire put a hand up to his chest in mock offence.

“Lae’zel, you depreciate me,” he pouted. “I’m hurt.”

Astarion’s sudden cold grasp on your wrist startled you as he decided to examine the cut himself in a much less gentle manner than Lae’zel. “Not that I would be able to get much from this anyway, even if I tried.”

You were slightly worried that he was pondering the idea the longer he stared at the wound; you could practically see him drooling. It wasn’t until you cleared your throat that he snapped out of his daze.

“Well, we should probably get this cleaned up anyhow,” he finally said. “To avoid infection and whatnot.”

“...You’re not gonna lick it clean, are you?” Karlach asked with a grimace.

“Of course not!” Astarion bit back, much more flustered this time. “I’m not some savage beast, you know.”

“That’s... debatable,” Gale piped in.

“Well! It’s lovely to know that you all think so little of me; the feeling is very much mutual,” Astarion said with a fake smile before taking you by the shoulder. “Now, if you’ll all excuse me, I’ll have to nurse this poor wounded soul, as well as my pride.”

He started guiding you away from the rest of the group, you only allowed him to because the whole situation had you in a bit of a daze, but not before Shadowheart tried to get in another “I’m... I’m sorry.”

“It’s... I’m fine,” you replied with whatever level of composure you could muster up with a smile in a small attempt to reassure her before allowing yourself to be led towards Astarion’s tent. Your words seemed to satisfy her as Shadowheart returned a sorrowful but grateful nod, though her expression turned sour when Karlach stepped between her and Lae’zel.

“Alright now, ladies, what do you two say we let out our pent-up aggression towards each other in a healthier and less murder-y way, huh?” The tiefling suggested before holding up her finger to not let the other two get a word in edgewise. “And before you ask, I will not be taking no for an answer.”

A small smile graced your lips at Karlach’s enthusiastic yet surprisingly pragmatic way of taking charge, and it seemed to be working as Shadowheart and—to your utter astonishment—Lae’zel agreed to whatever training regimen she had in store for them.

‘Perhaps Karlach should take over as leader...’

The idea was extinguished as soon as it had entered your mind, replaced with thoughts of the tiefling messing everything up, of her killing you in your sleep, that you shouldn’t trust her to lead your party. The only one who should have any authority over these subordinates is you. Only you are worthy.

The voice quieted down after a few moments, leaving you only with a pounding head—just another one of the many wonderful side-effects of the parasite.

You didn’t take any heed of whatever thoughts the tadpole forced upon you. You knew that Karlach would never hurt you, or any of the others for that matter—not by choice, anyway. However, those flashes of betrayal and blood were starting to wear you down a bit, especially with the lack of sleep; the very notion of it had been non-existent since you escaped the nautiloid and accepted the leadership that everyone had practically forced upon you.

You weren’t exactly a natural-born leader; hell, you barely managed to keep yourself alive never mind a whole group of people.

“That’s going to need stitches,” Astarion said as he observed your hand more closely now that the two of you were in the privacy of his tent. Heat flushed around your cheeks at how close the two of you were. Flashes of that night you had shared a bed—or well, the forest floor—came to mind, and you hated how flustered it made you. It was a one-night stand, a bit of fun to ease the stress of adventuring; clearly it meant nothing. At least... that was what you were made to feel.

What had been a night of passion for you, had been the same old dance for him.

“Take a seat there,” Astarion’s said, his voice cutting through your thoughts like a knife. “I should have a needle around here, somewhere.”

“You know how to sew?” You asked, settling down on a cushioned stool.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he said, and a sting of guilt surged in your chest. “How do you think I’ve kept these clothes looking so good for over two hundred years? Certainly not by magic.”

“Why not just buy new clothes?”

Your prodding seemed to hit a nerve as he paused for a moment.

“Why waste the coin?” He finally replied, sounding a little dejected.

“Sorry,” you said, biting your lip as you tried to think of a way to quickly rectify your carelessness. “You do look great, by the way—y-your clothes, I mean,” embarrassment takes over as you trip over your own words. “The gold embroidery is um *cough * it’s nice.”

Astarion seems amused at your inability to grasp basic English as he chuckles, the sound deep and almost musical. “Why thank you, darling. I’m glad someone around here appreciates the finer details.”

The vampire kneels next to you and threads the needle before gesturing for you to hold out your hand. “It has been a while so... let’s just hope I’m not too rusty, hm?”

Those words don’t instil a great deal of confidence within you, but you won’t allow it to show, trusting in him to get the job done. If you ended up getting sepsis, well... Withers was always on stand-by.

“Now, hold still,” Astarion instructed. “This may sting a little.”

You nodded, only wincing a little when he made the first stitch, the pain became more bearable as you watched him focus with the kind of laser-like precision that only came with a practiced hand; it made you wonder how many times he had done this. His methodical movements almost lulled you into a sort of relaxed trance, had your mind have not been working overtime, you honestly might have fallen asleep: Gods know you could have done with a bit of shut eye.

Ever since the ship crashed, your problems just seemed to keep piling on top of each other: Lae’zel was hellbent on getting to that githyanki creche, and there was the matter of Karlach’s engine, Gale was close to blowing to kingdom-come if he didn’t get another magical item to consume soon, Astarion would probably need another feeding at some point, not to mention the dog, Scratch, and the owlbear cub who had started hanging around the camp. A dog was one thing but how much did owlbears need to eat?

It was fine, you reassured yourself. Everything would be fine.

“There we go,” Astarion said, relinquishing your hand back, freshly stitched and cleaned. The pain was still there, dull and throbbing, but it wasn’t anything a quick healing spell couldn’t fix.

“Not my best work but it will just have to do for now,” he huffs, as if he was annoyed with himself. “You’ll have to excuse the sloppy stitching, it’s... been a while.”

“It’s beautiful work,” you can’t help but admire the stitching; it was flawless. “Thank you, Astarion.”

His gaze remains on you for a moment, as if he were expecting some sort of quip or punchline, and his eyes widen slightly when he realises you’re being genuine.

“I... uh... you...?” He pauses and squints; still nothing. “You are... most certainly welcome.”

You raise an eyebrow; did he really think so lowly of you that he believed you simply weren’t capable of a simple 'thank you'? Or was it himself that he had no confidence in? Your thoughts turn to when you asked him about how he came about becoming a vampire. Astarion kept most of his history closed off from you but told you just enough to let you know that this ‘Cazador’ fellow had treated him poorly. Belittled him. Enslaved him.

You couldn’t begin to imagine how horrible it must have been; no wonder he didn’t trust anyone.

A part of you wanted to pry into his thoughts, to let him know that you were here for him should he ever want to talk, but a new figure entered the tent, startling you into closing your mouth.

“Hello!” Gale cheerily greeted with a smile, his eyes latching onto you immediately. “How are we feeling?”

“Oh, we’re feeling quite dandy, thank you,” Astarion interjected with a frown. “You didn’t think to knock before deciding just to barge in?”

“Well, given the materialistic structure of this very sound establishment, I think you’ll find it’s a little difficult to uh...” Gale trailed off, attempting to rap the tent flap to no avail. “...knock on.”

“Then why not just knock on the wooden beams with that...” The vampire waved lazily towards Gale’s staff. “Very large stick of yours.”

“Duly noted, but I think we’re getting a bit off track here,” the wizard said before turning to you. “I need a word.”

You were taken aback slightly by his bluntness, and you couldn’t help but notice the almost pained way he was wringing his hands and how his eyebrows subtly twitched. He looked incredibly... uncomfortable.

His hand hovered over his chest briefly, just above the mark that glowed whenever he consumed magic.

Shit. Was it that time already? But hadn’t you given him something only yesterday? Or had it been a few days now? With recent events, it was hard to keep track of the time anymore; day and night just meshed into one big messy blur.

Judging by your panicked look, Gale held up his hands in a placating manner. “Now, I know you’ve had a lot on your plate recently but this little uh... situation of mine is growing quite dire again so... if you could just relinquish whatever magical artefact you have, then all will be fine and dandy.”

“I... don’t have anything on me at the moment.”

Gale’s expression dropped. “Come now, you must have picked up something along the way, surely?”

You grimaced.

“In a dungeon? Along the road? What about that little goblin camp you rampaged through recently?”

His sudden passive-aggressiveness made you feel uneasy.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Astarion cut in, folding his arms. “But we were a bit preoccupied with fighting for our lives to be on the lookout for any magic boots for you to chew on.”

Gale chuckled dryly and drew the vampire a dirty look. “I don’t think you quite understand the gravity of what might very well happen if I don’t find something to contain the beast within me very soon- “

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, darling.”

“This isn’t a joking matter!”

“Ugh! Just shut up!” You snapped. “I do get it, Gale. Because you remind me Every. Damn. Day. About this big, scary, mystery catastrophe that might happen without actually explaining anything about it! A bit of context would go a long way!”

Gale’s hurt wince suddenly had your stomach churning in guilt; you shouldn’t be snapping at people; you were better than that.

“I’m sorry,” you quickly apologised. “As soon as we’re out on the road again, I’ll make it our priority to look for an artefact for you, alright? You have my word.”

Astarion scowled and Gale forced a smile; his lips too strained for it to be genuine. It seemed like you couldn’t please anyone today.

“That’s all I can ask for, and I promise... all will be revealed soon, otherwise the tadpoles will be the least of our worries.”

When Gale left, you plopped down to the ground and took ragged breaths to calm your nerves, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of hurt as you nestled your injured hand in your lap. Had Gale only checked in on you so he could ask you for a magic item in return? Was he really that desperate? He must have been, seeing as you had completely forgotten about his predicament.

What kind of leader were you?

“You know, you can’t go making promises all willy-nilly like that,” Astarion said. “We have enough problems as it is without having to worry about...”

His chastising faded into white noise as you grasped your head, the sting of your fingers curling and tugging through unkempt hair was just enough to distract from the pounding that came from within your brain. The ability to focus was suddenly lost to you as your heart raced, and dark emotions swirled within your chest like a wild tornado; it was tempting to let them sweep you away, to ride the waves into the unknown. To be anywhere but here without anyone depending on you for so, so much.

“Hello?” Astarion drawled. “Are you even listening to- Darling...?”

He moved closer to you; his steps measured and deliberate as he lowered himself down next to you, still allowing you enough space while being close enough to reach out a hand to your trembling shoulder, his touch cold yet oddly comforting.

“Hey,” he spoke in a soothing, soft tone, his crimson eyes locking onto yours with unwavering support. “I’m right here with you, you’re safe, just breathe along with me, alright?”

You nodded, albeit shakily, and tried to mirror his calm, measured breaths, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly, attempting to regain control over your racing heart.

Astarion’s voice never wavered as your frantic gasps slowly started to synchronise with his calm breathing. “I know things are tough right now, but these feelings will soon pass. You’re stronger than you think, darling.”

He continued to gently rub your back, tracing comforting circles with his fingertips, a rhythm that matched the cadence of your breath. Your hands slowly unlatched from your hair as you felt Astarion’s reassuring presence and honeyed words grounding you.

“There we go, you’re regaining control,” he encouraged softly. “Now, I’m going to get you a glass of water, will you be alright for a moment?”

You nodded again, and with a quick squeeze of your shoulder, he left. As your panic attack started to ebb, your breathing evened and your heart slowed as you felt yourself returning to the present moment, the tension that had your body rigid starting to ease.

Astarion was back by your side within moments, gently pushing a glass into your hand and helping you lift it to your lips for a small sip of water, the cool liquid soothing your parched throat.

“How do you feel?”

“I’m-”

“And don’t you dare say ‘I’m fine’,” he scowled. "Because we both know you’re clearly not.”

You racked your brain to try and find a way to explain that you were okay and that this was just a small moment of weakness, a blip in the road, that there was nothing to worry about and you had it all figured out.

But the words never came, instead you draw your knees up and hug them close to your chest as if to hide away from his piercing gaze.

Astarion lingers by your side for a moment, his expression unreadable.

“Would you like to stay in here for a while?”

Unable to find the energy to speak, you simply nod.

“Then come on, scooch over.”

As you shuffle slightly to the side, Astarion sits down next to you, draping an arm over your shoulder and allowing you to settle your head into his side and cling to his shirt in a way that a child might cling to their mother.

“...I’m sorry."

From the corner of your eye, you could see Astarion’s expression soften as he waved a nonchalant hand. “Oh, you have nothing to be sorry for, dear. If anything, I should be the one apologising, who knew being in my mere presence would be so breathtaking?”

You managed a small chuckle at that.

“But in all seriousness,” he continued. “I know a thing or two about putting on a façade and... well...,” he paused. “Just... know that if you ever want to talk, I’m all pointy ears.”

You hum in acknowledgement, though you can tell by his undertone that he’s being disingenuous, kindness wasn’t exactly his forte after all, but you appreciated the attempt all the same. But you were just content to sit in his arms for a while, and he seemed pleased enough with the silence. So, for now, you inhale the comforting aroma of bergamot, rosemary and brandy, letting yourself get lost in his comforting presence.

And exhale.

xxx

Hellooooo Baldur's Gate 3 has me in a chokehold and the brainrot is real. I'm only in Act 1 hence why this fic takes place so early in the game but this idea wouldn't leave me alone so here we are. Apologies for any inconsistencies :'3 Let me know what y'all think!

*Edit - since this has been pretty well received, I've opened up requests! Pop me an ask if you would like one :)

#astarion x reader #astarion x mc #astarion x tav #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #my writing #tw panic attack

1K notes · View notes

ladykf-writes · 6 months

Text

Find the Word Tag

Tagged by @case-of-traxits for this interesting word hunt through my fics. I'm trying to do a different fic for each! And I'm tagging @thegeeksqueaks | @vorpalgirl | @wandererriha | @yuzukimist

Rules: Search your writing for the following words, and post an excerpt containing them. Your words are the following: light, hope, alive and feeling, or some derivative like "lights" or "hopeful" --- tag me if you do these, folks!

My words were: blood, soft, feather, and sunlight. I've mentioned the chapter and linked to the fic each is from as well as the fic's status. (If you're interested in the WIPs... let me know. It's really, really appreciated.)

Blood

She struck at him, blow after whirling blow, almost too fast to follow. Almost too fast to block. Definitely too fast to reclaim the offensive.

And like an absolute idiot rookie, he went down. Tripped, of all things, and landed on his ass.

Rosso was on him in a breath with a vicious, bloodthirsty grin as she pointed her weapon at his chest. "And now, SOLDIER, you die and I will live on. I will -"

Maybe Benji should have been more brutal, in his desperation. But instead he was reckless.

He grabbed her weapon with both hands, felt the bite of metal into his palms, and offered a positively wicked grin because he had nothing left to lose.

The force of the Thundaga that he released in her split second of baffled shock threw her like a rag doll and sent Benji crashing back into a building. Her weapon went flying off somewhere, but he didn't care because she didn't get back up.

Benji managed a wheezing laugh, licking blood off his lips and tasting copper as he coughed. He got to his feet with bullheaded stubbornness, and made his way over to her still body. After a moment, he rolled her over, and hummed as he saw her chest rise shallowly. Just unconscious, then. Nice.

"Gloating is a terrible habit," he muttered, keying his mic. "Rosso is down. I repeat, Rosso the Crimson is down."

From CH 62, Nothing To Lose: Dog Whistle - a canon divergent FFVII fixit [Incomplete]

Soft

“And you said Shield Amicitia was the one who took you on, right?” Prompto asked. “When you first got in with them.”

“Adopted me like a feral stray,” Cor said dryly.

“Did you bite him?” Prompto asked, mostly teasing.

Then Cor did that ‘trying not to smile’ twitchy thing with his lips, blue eyes gleaming, and Prompto gasped.

“You bit Shield Amicitia?” He said, yet again both scandalized and delighted. Cor was really good at getting that particular response.

“I said no such thing,” Cor defended.

“Your eyes said you did,” Prompto retorted, grinning. “Oh my gods, you bit him? What did he do?”

“If I bit Clarus, I assure you he would have deserved it,” Cor said. “And taken it as his due for being a jerk in the first place.”

Prompto cackled, sinking into a chair. “Oh my gods, Cor, you are impossible.”

Cor finally let himself smile a little, soft and unaccountably fond as he watched Prompto cackling. “Do I amuse you?”

“So much,” Prompto said, wiping his eyes. “Oh man. You’re something, you know that?”

“I may have been told that on occasion,” he said, still clearly amused.

Which, fair - that made two of them. “You’re crazy, but I really appreciate that about you.”

Cor chuckled softly. “Mmh… thank you, I think.”

“Definitely,” he said, laughing one last time before getting himself under control. It was weird how comfortable he’d gotten with Cor. He didn’t feel like a stranger anymore. He was… well, he was treating him like a friend, because he felt like it. He still couldn’t picture being ‘friends’ with the Immortal Marshal of the Crownsguard but… Cor, like this, smiling and joking and softening those hard edges… yeah. Yeah, he could see himself being friends with Cor.

CH 7: Returning the Favor, A Place to Call Home - a FFXV gift / exchange fic from 2021, pre-canon Dad!Cor and Prompto [Complete]

Feather

Hojo stared at him a long moment over the rims of his glasses. "How you ever made it to First Class, let alone cultivated a reputation for being level headed and intelligent is beyond my understanding. I admit, I didn't think you or Rhapsodos should have ever been allowed to enter the SOLDIER program. I still think it was a foolish mistake as this debacle proves, but the problem here is not that you are some sort of abomination. What's wrong with you, Hewley, is that you are entirely too human."

Angeal stared back in disbelief. "Too human? Have you even looked at-"

"I have been looking at the literal design of your being for days, Hewley, so kindly shut up and let the person who knows what they're talking about talk," he interrupted, glaring at him. "Your mother was injected with Jenova cells well before your conception, and you would have inherited them along with her own natural genes in a much more complete way than Rhapsodos had. They tied into your genome thoroughly enough that you could have been promoted through Second Class with no ill effects, but the higher doses of mako required to become a First Class SOLDIER were too stimulating; it immediately began to awaken those genes to higher activity, priming you to be responsive to Genesis' manipulations."

"I don't believe he did this to me on purpose," he insisted, though the arguments the professor made left him a bit wide eyed and shaken. He didn't dare look at Zack, and a quick look at Sephiroth's too still posture kept him from a second glance. "He's lost a lot of himself, but he wouldn't do that. Not to me."

"Why not? You're far more sane than he is and you turned on your so-called friends without hesitation." Hojo was merciless with his honesty. "Is he really the better man? Is there even such a thing? You're both human. The nature of humanity is to betray others to protect themselves, it has been since the beginning of its existence. I'm honestly not sure why you keep holding it up as something to aspire to."

What was he supposed to say to that? Angeal swallowed hard, but it didn't get rid of the tightness in his throat, and no amount of blinking rid his eyes of their burn.

Hojo shook his head with a dismissive sound, turning back to the computer. "What's the human genome but a long line of advantageous mutations that have been adapted over millennia? Not, mind you, that Hollander has provided you with anything of the sort. But it's the principle of the thing in that this is nothing new, and we would all benefit from you realizing that this really doesn't make you special. You're a grown man and a SOLDIER First Class; it's about time you get over your identity crisis and realize nothing has actually changed beyond you now knowing more of your genetic history. You're the same man you were before you clued into that fact, quit being such a child about it."

Angeal made a little strangled sound, shaking his head and shaking his wings out. He followed the path of a pair of stray feathers, noting numbly when Hojo took another in gloved fingertips to set aside. "But…"

"But nothing. I'm not going to put up with your excuses." Hojo crossed over to his side table, snapping his fingers. "Get a tech in here. We need to draw a few samples and get actual testing going since there's clearly not going to be any further narratives for now."

CH 16, Too Human, To Be Human - an older but well loved FFVII FIx-It [Complete!]

Sunlight

The massive gate leading out of town gave way almost immediately to an old, untamed forest that stretched out as far as the eye could see. Admittedly, it was hard to be sure how far that was, when looking through a heavily wooded area. Several paths branched off, but Mint took off down one without the slightest hesitation, so he followed her. Hopefully she knew where she was going.

The forest was thick with trees, sunlight streaming down through the canopy to rich, dark earth under their feet that had been worn and packed from people walking the path. It was decidedly peaceful, comfortable, with an easy breeze that rustled the leaves above and the foliage below. Somewhere in the distance, quiet birdsong could be heard.

Of course, like most forests, there were dangers amid the deceptive peacefulness. They came upon a group of Pollywogs, more of a nuisance than an actual threat even in a group. They bobbed through the air in silence, their fat yellow bodies showing up clearly against the backdrop of greens and brown. As soon as they spotted Mint and Rue, they came over with a burst of speed, lavender head tails whipping behind them as they snapped their jaws in an attempt at menacing. Mint didn't even bother to raise her hoops, making a sharp gesture instead and sending out a spray of energy. Balls of golden light shot through the air, impacting into the monsters and taking several down in the first shot. Only one of them had the presence of mind to evade the attack, but when it swerved it went directly into range of Rue's Arc Edge. A single powerful slash downward and the final Pollywog hit the dirt with a soft thud.

From CH 6, A Fortunate Encounter: Dewprism: Journey to the [Relic] - a Threads of Fate semi-novelization [On hiatus]

#askbox games #prompts #dash games #my work #dog whistle #a place to call home #to be human #dewprism: journey to the [relic]#ff7 #ff15 #threads of fate #dewprism #fanfic #ff7 fanfic #ffxv fanfic #dewprism fanfic

3 notes · View notes