#unscorched | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

semisolidmind · 5 months

Text

(perhaps there's a certain sign, like a flash of light or the chime of a bell, that signifies readers' appearance in the monkey's world.)

and perhaps, it's been years, decades for the now-immortal monkeys, since they've seen their dear friend; that strange little human girl who would appear on their island home and dissapear with no explanation.

perhaps, they've pushed all thoughts of her to the backs of their minds as they've grown older and more powerful. there's more important things to attend to, such as the successful raiding of a human settlement. the victorious shouts of their demon soldiers. the valuable assets they've gained from the looting. and taking those treasures home to their people on flower fruit mountain. the scent of blood and smoke fills the air, incense of the destruction left in the monkey warlords' wake.

the monkey king is an expert at rallying the bloodied demonic troops, and he would be remiss to not thank them for their service and allow them their cut of the spoils. macaque, on the other hand, is less verbose, preferring to stand in his brother's shadow and quietly take in their victory.

his superior hearing catches everything, and he senses a change in the air.

something's coming.

but he's not sure what, and he struggles to focus over the cacophony of the war party.

macaque steps away, following a growing feeling of...something, pulling him towards the unscorched treeline beyond the village's remains.

he silences his steps, following the feeling a ways into the woods. fruit trees grow wild around here, he offhandedly notes.

the light chime of a bell, and a quick flash of golden light, a short ways ahead of him. the sound of something hitting the forest floor...and a quiet, pained groan.

macaque steps forward into the clearing.

there's a human woman, lying on her side in the leaves beneath a peach tree. she holds her head as if it's hurting her.

she seems strangely...familiar.

the shadowy simian steps silently closer, curious.

he watches as she pushes herself up, one hand still pressed to the back of her head. he steps closer still, crouching on one knee next to her. she opens her eyes. he sees and feels her entire being freeze in fear. the naturally sadistic part of him takes pleasure in it.

wide doe-eyes, filling with scared, confused tears, meet slowly widening, poisonous violet hues. recognition flashes there.

"You." he breathes.

he knows those eyes, he'd know them anywhere.

she'd called his eyes pretty, once. he'd always thought the same of hers, though his child self was too shy to say so.

he belatedly realizes what a sight he must be; armored, fresh from battle, carrying his staff (he shadows it away when her eyes dart to it). he's covered in blood, and the smell of death and ash clings to him.

and for all his acquired charm, and despite his silver tongue...macaque can think of nothing else to say. his dear reader sits before him, in the flesh. she's beautiful...though clearly terrified and failing to hold in her tears.

it's unfortunate that all his years practicing death and destruction have dulled his ability to comfort. so he just...stares, taking her in. he can't stop himself from smiling just a tiny bit. it seems she's turned him shy again.

his ears twitch, and he hears wukong coming towards them; no doubt curious as to what has captured his brother's attention.

macaque finds himself oddly excited for his brother to see who's just been dropped back into their lives.

—

reader's breath comes quick and panicked. she doesn't know where she is. but there's a monster, a demon, so very close to her. she recognizes him, in some obscure part of her subconscious, as a grown, terrifying version of one of the little monkeys from her childhood daydreams.

the shy, dark-furred one with too many ears, she recalls blearily. there's little left of that boy in the warrior next to her. the red of his mask-like markings and the two crimson lines trailing from his mouth to just under his jaw are new, unsettling additions to his visage.

reality hits reader in waves. she can't move, she can't think, not moments ago she was in her home getting ready for bed like any normal evening and now—!

she has no idea where she is.

it doesn't seem like the island paradise from her memories, and everything around her feels too real, too solid and tactile for it to be a dream. the grass and leaves shift and rustle, the wind whispers, she smells...peaches? nearby, along with smoke and the unsettling metal tang of the blood clinging to her shadowy visitor. there's the sound of many distant voices, yelling and shouting with raucous joy, somewhere ahead of her. the light of a large fire cuts through the trees, red and yellow hues illuminating the leaves and blocking out the sparse stars of twilight.

it sounds like an army. and it looks like the end of a successful raid.

it doesn't take much to deduce that that's likely where her current...visitor, came from. by the looks of him, he might even be one of the leaders. his armour isn't flashy; a wickedly sharp-looking shoulder paldron half covered by a deep red scarf and cape, simple black and gold coverings beneath with small red accents to match. it all appears very...antiquated, but reader can't bring herself to focus on what region he's supposed to be from.

not as her panic continues to rise.

reader doesn't—she can't—she can't handle this. it can't be real. she made them up, made up their world and all its magic; everyone always said so! there's no way she's actually there, and there's no way the monster beside her actually exists.

but the feeling of his tail, black and sinuous, curling around her ankle, tears a sob from her throat. it just...feels too substantial, and she can't keep herself in denial. the responding low rumble from the monkey beside her (like he's trying to comfort her, as ridiculous as it sounds) causes another cascade of tears.

reader jolts when she feels the demon's tail tighten slightly (it's a weirdly familiar gesture). she sees his ears twitch, and his eyes dart to the woods he came from.

someone's coming towards them.

reader is unprepared for the being that emerges from the trees.

he's clad in golden armor, its shine dulled by the blood streaked across it, and a tattered cape of the same crimson hue flutters behind him. the soot-stained feathers of his crown flow in his wake. he has a mask now too, the fang-like points on his cheeks decending into the fur framing his face, reminiscent of tears. a single, thick scarlet line spills from his bottom lip and dissapears under his chin. his red and gold eyes glow in the forest gloom, reminiscent of hellfire.

his fur is a horribly familiar shade of rusty orange.

reader feels like she's going to faint.

—

wukong wasn't sure why macaque had gone into the woods. after directing his soldiers to gather up any valuables they could find and start burning or cooking bodies, he decided he'd follow his brother and find out.

past the trees, he called out into the clearing. he sees his brother kneeling next to someone.

"Hey, Mac! Did'ya find a survivor or—"

he stills. not even his tail twitches.

there's no way.

he knows this human. would know her if he were blind, deaf, and in darkness. his best friend. the only one who ever really believed in him when he claimed he'd be the strongest one day.

reader.

it's unsettling to see such a boyish look of surprised joy slowly cross a face as fierce as the monkey king's, especially when it's still spattered in gore.

"It's you," he breathes, voice far too gentle for his visceral appearance. he steps quickly closer and joins his brother in a crouch on reader's opposite side, armor clanking on his way down.

she flinches away, and he moves a bit slower. wukong reaches a hand out to her face, curling his claws into his palm to brush his knuckles across her tear-stained cheek. the motion is tender, disbelieving. one ill-suited for a hand that causes mostly pain and death.

he unconsciously follows when she tries to move away; though macaque's tail, still clasped around her ankle, prevents her escape. the shadow general is still gazing at his quarry with soft eyes.

the monkey king smiles, baring fangs. "I thought we'd never see you again," he says wondrously. wukong catalogs every feature; soft hair, longer than when he last ran his claws through it, eyes still as pretty as ever, despite being wide with terror. she's changed, same as him.

he turns to his brother, still gently stroking reader's face.

"This day just keeps getting better, doesn't it?" wukong laughs. the sound feels wrong; too light-hearted to have come from a monster like him. macaque doesn't answer, but the small quirk of his lips is an agreement.

"There's so much we have to tell you, show you! The mountain is much more than it was, the monkey yao are prosperous and thriving, we've planted new orchards, the palace—we have a palace!—behind the waterfall is full of treasures; so much has changed! You've come back at the perfect time, you're going to love it there!" wukong rambles, his bright and excited tone clashing horribly with the coppery gore oxidating on his person.

"I'll take you there," macaque murmurs to reader, now covering her trembling hand with his.

"What?" wukong squawks. "No, I'm taking her! You've already got a head start, since you found her! You've been here for like, an hour already!"

"It's been barely ten minutes. And it's not like she's been very talkative, given the circumstances."

macaque looks to reader. her scared gaze is locked on his stupid, stupid older brother who can't seem to handle anything delicately—

"Besides, does she look up to traveling by cloud?" macaque gestures at a shaky and silently crying reader. she looks like she'd run if she thought she had a chance.

wukong would never say it, but his little brother has a point. poor reader is shaking like a leaf in a thunderstorm. it's then that wukong finds some self awareness; he looks terrifying, which under any normal circumstances, he'd have no problem with. except...

reader has always been soft. she never liked when either of the brothers felt the need to hunt, never liked the sight of blood when they'd proudly show off some small animal they killed.

well. she doesn't need to know just how much blood they've stained their hands with since they last saw her.

"You should go finish up with the soldiers. I'll take her home and get her set up in the palace. She likely needs food, and a bath. Her clothes are...strange, and nowhere near warm enough. I'll be faster by shadow, anyway." macaque grouses.

he reaches under reader, gathering her in his arms as quickly and gently as he can. she shrieks, pushing against him as he stands. her breathing picks up as she struggles, tears falling harder and faster. the dark-furred demon isn't deterred, holding her closer. the difference in power is clear. there's nothing she can do to make him let go.

wukong stands as well, hands curling into fists. he wants to hold reader, too.

"Go. Do your job, your majesty," macaque drawls sarcastically. "We'll see you at home later."

the shadow general summons a portal, stepping into it. it melts closed behind him and his unwilling passenger, leaving no trace that either of them were ever there.

wukong pouts. he turns back towards the charred remains of his latest conquest and his awaiting army.

he hates it when mac is right.

—

#bad end wukong #twice as bad au

439 notes · View notes

theyoterman · 7 months

Text

I probably should've posted this a long while ago but uh this the lucidia ze unscorched battle thingy

#deltarune #secret boss #shadow crystal #deltarune chapter 3 #deltarune fan character #freedom #lucidia #LUCID VINES #flowey #undyne #undyne the undying #green soul

72 notes · View notes

sleepinglikeabat · 22 days

Text

A once heroic prophecy of freedom twists into a painful tragedy as the love of one’s other is so powerful that it collapses even the most certain of fates.

To cast the sword of salvation into the sea as to not plunge it into his chest. No matter what you do to protect him, something will always go wrong. No matter what you do it will always be your fault. You were to be the saviour, yet here you kneel before your lover, in supplication to the fates to save him, knowing you failed your own people in desperation to try and protect him.

You have burned the world to keep him unscorched, and yet the flame still met his skin. This is the consequence of defying your destiny.

Was it worth it Emrys?

Perhaps it was.

#merlin #merthur #arthur pendragon #emrys

28 notes · View notes

loth-creatures · 3 months

Note

Sabine’s story you say? 👀👀👀

Ah yes, the elusive secret sabine's-backstory fic I slowly but surely chisel at on the rare occasion I have writing motivation. No promises on ever finishing it but I will publish at least some of it eventually I prommy

Here's one of my favorite snippets so far (below cut). Plus a lil illustration bc for a while this scene was burning through my skull but I couldn't seem to write it so I drew it instead.

Another snippet here, since two people asked about this :)

Sabine didn't know what she expected to see when she eventually picked her way to the bottom of the ramp, but it certainly wasn't a vast expanse of rolling golden plains, rippling in the wind like the pelt of a massive beast. Near certain she was hallucinating, she pulled her helmet off, forced to squint against the brightest sunlight she'd seen in months. Between endless night jobs on planets with filthy atmospheres divided only by days in hyperspace, the sensation was nearly alien.

Sabine felt the warmth on her skin and stared down at her hands, transfixed by the sun painting her skin in fiery gold, and the fierce yet gentle warmth of fire she hadn't felt in so long it hurt. For a moment she could have been sitting on her father's knee as a little girl, watching her mother work the forge, in the dead of a bitter winter. When the sun hadn't shown through the storm clouds for weeks, and the heat and amber light of the forge felt like her family's own little sun that would keep them warm and safe until summer.

Tears pricked at her eyes, something like homesickness swelling in her chest. This sun felt like summer in some distant past, illustrated in children's stories, the only place Sabine thought so much grass existed until now. The oceans of grass that once covered Mandalore's steppes, long before Sabine was born, long before endless war tore her homeland apart. Only stories, she'd thought. How could there possibly be so much unscorched land on one planet? All of the galaxy Sabine had seen so far was scarred and torn and mined far beyond any planet's capacity to survive. But not here it seemed, not yet.

It can't be real, Sabine thought.

She had to be dreaming. It sure felt like a dream, her head felt like it was floating and her movements seemed to lag far behind her. She wasn't holding her helmet anymore, couldn't remember setting it down. She didn't recall taking steps off the ship's ramp into the grass either, yet now it was brushing against her knees, leaving clinging seedlets on the weathered fabric of her borrowed clothes. Sabine reached down to touch it and her legs buckled.

Definitely not a dream. The cuts on her knees still stung as they hit the ground, her hands and ribs and head still ached. And the grass wasn't nearly as soft as she thought it would be, the stiff fronds bent and crunched beneath her. Not a dream. Just more exhaustion. Sabine knew she wasn't getting back up again, her body felt so heavy. But maybe, for right now, that was okay. Maybe, for a little while, there was nothing to run from.

She didn’t remember lying down, but the soft wind whispered through the delicate wall of grass that now surrounded and concealed her, thin dancing shadows making the sunlight flicker over her face. For the first time since the day she'd run, the unyielding pull of unconsciousness felt less like snapping jaws dragging her under, and more like a familiar and welcome embrace. And for once, she didn't fight it.

#star wars rebels #sabine wren #swr #star wars #eel fic #tag game #ask

33 notes · View notes

its-jaytothemee · 2 months

Text

Stolen Futures

Pairings: Gale x Tav

Word count: 2,533, one shot

Rating: General Audience

Read on AO3

Summary: Gale and Tav journey to Waterdeep to start their new life together, only to be interrupted by a devastating realization.

Tags: Fluff and Angst, Gale's Netherese Orb, Act 3 spoilers

Author's Note: Here's a sad fic that nobody asked for! Just a quick one shot to pour my depression into. Sorry in advance...

Tav opened her eyes to see the magnificent sight of Waterdeep filling the horizon as Gale led her onwards toward her new home. She had never visited the City of Splendors before, which Gale took as a challenge to recite every major detail of during their long journey here. How he was able to talk for days on end without losing his voice was as much a mystery to her as this new city. Tav didn’t mind though, listening to him chat ceaselessly about his home filled her with anticipation for their new life together. The sound of his voice was soothing, he was eager to share his home with her so how could she fault him for sharing every detail of what she could expect?

“…and oh, how could I forget. There’s a small tavern just down the block from my tower that boasts the best roast quipper fish in the city but don’t let that fool you. While it is quite delicious, the honor of the best still goes to my mother.”

Gale had been talking about his mother much more often in their last few days of travel. From the way he spoke, Tav guessed Morena Dekarios must be a goddess in mortal form. She scooted closer to him in the cart and squeezed his arm that she had looped through her own.

“Do you think she’ll like me?” She leaned her head against his shoulder.

“Of course! I inherited my judge of character from her after all. Besides, you’ve managed to win over Tara already and she’s much pickier about my choice in company than my mother ever was.” Gale gave her a reassuring kiss on her forehead. Tav smiled softly, listening as the sounds coming from the city gates grew louder every moment.

They passed through the gates with ease, slowly making their way through the bustling streets. After their travels in the past weeks, it was a surreal experience to be in a city that was so intact. While Waterdeep was of course the victim of many kidnappings in the name of the Absolute, the majority of the fighting was restricted to the areas surrounding Baldur’s Gate. The buildings here remained standing and unscorched. Children ran through the streets, laughing and chasing one another without a care in the world. Tav marveled at the vendors calling out their wares, she inhaled deeply taking in the new scents wafting from the various carts and taverns they passed.

“Ah, we’re getting close, my love. Just a few more blocks.” Gale’s smile was plastered to his face. Tav kept herself pressed close to his side, his enthusiasm easily spreading to her as well.

The smell of the harbor was familiar and stronger than she would have thought from their distance, it was almost identical to the smells of the Chionthar outside of Baldur’s Gate. They rode in comfortable silence the rest of the way, Gale practically shaking with excitement. Their small cart slowed to a stop outside of a long stretch of homes. She smiled as Gale hopped off the cart and moved around to help her down. He offered his hand up to her with a slight bow, causing her to giggle. She slung her small pack of personal belongings over her shoulder and stepped down onto the rough stone street.

Gale ushered her towards the door to his tower…their tower. He opened the door and gestured for her to walk in ahead of him. She took a step towards the door when she was suddenly swept off her feet into Gale’s arms, the startling motion elicited a small yelp from her.

“Allow me.” He whispered, his nose just barely touching her own. Tav wrapped her arms around his neck and let out a laugh, content to be carried across the threshold of her new home.

Gale gently carried her through the doorway before setting her down next to the first of several impressive bookshelves. It was dark except for the small stream of light peeking through the curtains that opened to the balcony. He made his way across the room to open the doors behind them and bathe her surroundings in the bright afternoon light. The room before her was exactly as she remembered it from the illusion Gale had conjured for her their first night together. Books, tomes, and scrolls adorned the shelves that covered every bit of the walls. The few pieces of the room that weren’t covered by a bookcase had paintings hanging from them. Despite the fact that each wall was taken up completely by shelves and cubbies, small stacks of books were also decorating every corner of the room and next to each chair as well. Tav smiled fondly at the sight, she knew that Gale was well-read, but she hadn’t quite expected to be living in a full library. She turned around and around, slowly taking everything in. The old, but still beautiful, rosewood desk in the corner had a few scrolls littered across its surface along with quills and an empty wine glass. She ran her fingers across the wood, leaving long marks in the dust that had settled across the items. The fireplace was dark and covered in soot, it had obviously been well used. A piano sat in the corner sporting the same thin layer of dust as the other belongings scattered around the room.

“What do you think?” Gale had appeared at her side once again, gently taking her hands in his before continuing.

“It’s not much, but I suppose it is better than the mud we’ve been sleeping in for the last month or so. This has been my place of solace for so long, even when I had confined myself here, I never truly felt trapped. But now, I can hardly believe that I have someone to share it with.” He was smiling at her, but he seemed nervous all of a sudden. Gale had always spoken wistfully about his tower, obviously missing its comforts. Now, he appeared to be worried that she wouldn’t share his love of his home. Tav smiled back at him and pulled him into a kiss.

“It’s perfect, Gale.” She whispered.

Her words caused him to relax, relieved to see that she wasn’t disappointed. He immediately started pulling her around the tower, excitedly showing off everything in sight. Pointing out his favorite collections of novels and explaining why it was better for the mind to read said novels by the light of a crackling fire. They moved out of the entrance into the kitchen, grimacing at some of the smells coming from the baskets that hadn’t been touched since Gale was abducted. He quickly ushered her out, promising to clean out the spoiled food first thing in the morning. Their tour continued down into his small cellar, still stocked with a lavish variety of wines that had originated anywhere from Cormyr to Neverwinter. He took her back upstairs showing her the small bedroom. The bed was covered with an absurd amount of pillows. Tav couldn’t help herself and immediately ran and flopped into the soft pile, letting out a heavy sigh.

“Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve touched anything this soft? Gods I’ve missed pillows.” She laughed as Gale came over and collapsed right next to her, burying his face into her neck and hair. They stayed snuggled into the nest of pillows for a few minutes before he stood up and pulled her back to her feet.

“Come on, I haven’t gotten to show you my favorite spot yet.” He kissed her hand lightly as he led her from the room.

Tav felt like she was floating, watching Gale bounce around her like an excited puppy eager to show her his favorite toys filled her with a joy that she hadn’t known in so long. So why was she suddenly feeling so troubled? She had an aching feeling in her chest, and she noticed that she had tears streaking down her cheeks. Gale led her to the balcony, but hesitated when he turned around and saw her tears.

“What is it? Is everything alright, Tav?” His gleeful expression immediately twisted into one of concern.

“I…” She stuttered, she wasn’t sure why she was crying. She was happy, happy to be here with Gale, happy to start a new chapter of her life blessedly free of a mind flayer tadpole.

“Oh, this was all too much, too soon, wasn’t it? I’m sorry, my love. Given all that we’ve endured I suppose I was over eager to start our lives together…” Gale looked away, blushing.

“No, no it’s not that. This is where I want to be, Gale, here with you. I think I’m just feeling a bit overwhelmed from the sudden change in our lifestyle.” Tav was desperately trying to make sense of her emotions without alarming him.

“We’ve had a long journey here and I’m probably just tired.” That had to be it, the long days of travel coupled with recovering from their adventure had worn her down more than she thought. Gale seemed content with her answer as he relaxed again.

“Well, let us retire to the balcony then. I find it difficult to dwell on hardship when looking over the harbor from here.” He led her outside, gesturing to the small bench located there.

Tav sat down next to him and laid her head on his shoulder, matching the rhythm of her breathing to his. He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer, resting his head on top of hers. They sat looking over the sparkling water, watching the small boats bobbing along with the waves. As happy as she felt, safe and content in Gale’s embrace, she couldn’t keep the tears from leaving her eyes. The salty sea breeze and warm sunlight dried them quickly but did nothing to help the horrible pain she felt gripping her chest. Gale must have felt her tense since he squeezed her just a little tighter.

She closed her eyes, trying to push away the bad thoughts. Gale was humming a tune and gently stroking her hand. The smell of him was almost enough to calm her anxiety, she turned her face into his shoulder, desperate to take in every bit of him.

“I love you, Tav. Now and forever.” He whispered, but his voice sounded distant. She didn’t say anything in response, just settled further into his arms.

When Tav opened her eyes again, she was still kneeling on the docks outside of the Upper City. Her eyes were fixed on the sky where the Netherbrain had been looming over Baldur’s Gate. The blast caused by the Netherese orb in Gale’s chest had enough force to almost knock her over, even from this distance. She remembered the searing pain that ripped through her head as the tadpole was destroyed. The realization of her surroundings caused her to wrap her arms tightly around her chest and hang her head low.

It was a lovely fantasy, thinking of their life in Waterdeep, the life Gale had planned and spoken of endlessly over the last few days. The future that was taken from her.

The rest of her companions had joined her at the edge of the dock. Shadowheart and Karlach kneeled on either side of her, arms wrapped tight around her waist and shoulders. Halsin’s hand rested on her left shoulder, while Wyll’s rested on her right. More footsteps sounded behind her; their adventuring party and allies had caught up with them. Withers’ unmistakable quiet steps followed close behind. Soft sniffles and cries moved between them as they realized that Gale was missing from the scene. The encounter with the Netherbrain came rushing back to her.

Tav had barely been given a chance to react, they had entered the brain’s psyche and thought they had it defeated. One last massive wave of psychic energy had knocked their entire party on their backs. The platforms around them started disintegrating, but the Netherbrain kept them all pinned down, unable to move or attack. She remembered lying next to Gale, their outstretched hands just barely out of reach of one another. The moment they regained their movement, Gale grabbed her hand and started an incantation. Just as he finished speaking, he kissed her hand, tears were running down his face.

“Forgive me, Tav.” He had told her, shouting to be heard over the tempest raging around the brain. “Know that I have loved you more in our short time together than I could have loved anyone else in an entire lifetime.”

He said a final few words to his incantation and before she knew it, she was whisked away from him. She tried to scream, but the air had been knocked from her lungs. Suddenly, she was on the docks looking up at the brain just before a massive explosion wiped it from existence.

“Withers,” Tav spoke up quietly, “I don’t suppose you could bring Gale back? One last time?” She was certain she already knew the answer.

“There is some magic even I dare not reverse. The power unleashed here destroyed all mortal traces of Gale Dekarios.” Withers spoke in his usual slow, deliberate tone. Tav could only nod in response.

For a moment, she allowed herself to drift back to her fantasy. The thoughts and hopes of their life together formed a knot in her stomach. Closing her eyes, she saw their wedding, their families and friends gathered in one place celebrating their love. The comforting feeling of lazy evenings in their home, the two of them curled up reading together, washed over her. She could still feel his gentle hands idly brushing away loose hairs from her face and tucking them behind her ear. As her eyes opened once again to her cold reality, the memory of their last night together caused tears to well up in her eyes. He had held her tightly against him until the morning, swearing to her that it would not be the last time he did so. They had been given so little time together and yet that was all it took for Tav to fall completely in love with the charming wizard.

Slowly, she allowed her friends to pull her to her feet. They all gathered around her, pulling her into a large group hug. Everyone exchanged kind words about Gale, promising to never let his legacy be forgotten. They tried to offer her words of comfort, assuring her that his feelings for her were clear as day.

Tav decided that there would be time for her to mourn later, for now she would be grateful to have her mind as her own again. She would be glad to be surrounded by friends, new and old. She would honor the sacrifice he made rather than wallowing in her own grief. Her life with Gale may have been stolen, but thousands of others now had lives of their own thanks to him. Tav followed her companions back into the city, still smoldering from the attack, waiting to be rebuilt, just like the future ahead of her.

#bg3 fanfiction #bg3 gale #gale x tav #gale dekarios #gale fanfic #bg3 angst #bg3 brainrot #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #gale of waterdeep

27 notes · View notes

celticseawych · 4 months

Text

Okay, I finally wrote something. Please be gentle with me.

FALLING

All the brilliant colours burned to black,

the luminous stars faded to grey,

as I fell,

away from your magical eyes

and miraculous smile

to the fiery abyss below.

Every last nerve screams in agony

but a small part of me remains unscorched.

The memory of you is seared into my soul.

That is my sacred place,

where your love sustains me,

keeps me whole,

even as I splinter into a thousand shards.

Find me.

Save me.

Make me whole again.

We can be...

We are....

... us.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #aziracrow

11 notes · View notes

ge · 6 months

Note

🎭— god.... just the idea of cheong myeong fighting cheon ma with that grief of just having lost his sahyung right before his very eyes ..... he never even got to grieve properly for his sect members too since he immediately threw hinself into training and raising up the sect to relieve himself of the guilt he has for not being strong enough. for not being able to save people. the thought that maybe if he could've trained harder he could change something. UGHHHH EXPLODES

also the link to my playlist (disclaimer some songs r in my first language: filipino): https://open.spotify.com/playlist/47yDsjD7iKKBmQFZXLQzxz?si=koepPbjjQHSpVX-ZO3u0Fg

no reprieve, no time to catch his breath, just a sudden and violent rebirth into a new world untouched by slaughter and callous towards its decay.. just mere seconds ago he was bleeding out onto a battle field covered in the scattered bodies of his friends, his family, his allies, and now all at once he finds himself standing on lush green grass and unscorched trees, things he hadnt seen in the ash blotted months prior, and so steels his heart and swallows his grief and makes his way to the skeleton of his home, the ribs of his childhood, and he spends every waking day of his new life training himself and the remnants of his sect in all the ways he should have in his youth..because if he can save even just one person, that would be enoguh..

#GILES COREY🫵#chung myung didnt drink meng pos soup is what he did now hes fucked up and has trauma like youve never seen before

9 notes · View notes

existingkirb · 7 months

Text

LUCID VINES

Art I made of @theyoterman’s Lucidia the Unscorched for a cover I’m currently working on!

I found out about Lucidia recently through SoundCloud and I really like her design and story!

And here’s the Lucidia art without the Background!

#deltarune #deltarune secret boss #deltarune chapter three #lucidia #i cannot draw hands but BOY do i try

14 notes · View notes

herrlindemann · 2 years

Photo

KERRANG! - Review of the 16.05.2002 concert in London

Four years ago, on a grisly Wednesday night in November, Rammstein played their first UK gig at the Finsbury Park Powerhaus. A dimly-lit-pub-cum-venue in one of the less salubrious parts of North London, it was a far cry from the arenas the sextet were used to playing back in Germany. Not that Rammstein were going to let such trivialities as a tiny stage and low roof stand in the way of their poker-faced sturm und drang, though.

In front of an audience that numbered no more than 200, Rammstein pulled out all the stops: the explosions, the flaming suits, the spurting dildoes. The audience — a mixture of Goths, Euro-metal fans and the merely curious — had doubtless seen this sort of things before. It’s just unlikely that they had seen it — or, in the case of the pyrotechnics, felt it — as such close quarters. It’d be a stretch to say that nobody went home disappointed. No one, however, went home unscorched.

In the four years since that Powerhaus show, Rammstein haven’t changed a great deal. They’re still getting themselves on fire and strapping on prosthetic knobs. They’re just doing it in front of more people. The London Arena, a huge, soulless shed that looks like it’s been borrowed from some down-on-their-luck Eastern Bloc State, located in the shadow of Canary Wharf, might only be a few miles across the capital from Finsbury Park, but it’s a world away in real terms. This is the first time Rammstein can really show the UK what they’re capable of when they’ve got the space to spread their wings.

And by Christ, do they spread their wings. Over the course of their 90-minute set, the band will, among other things, don flaming helmets, shoot fireworks over the heads of the audience and set their singer on fire. It’s safe to say that a large percentage of the crowd are here to see the visuals as much as they are to hear the songs.

The downside of this, of course, is that the support bands are comparatively inconsequential. Raging Speedhorn and American Head Charge — tonight’s twin aperitifs — couldn’t be more different. Where Speedhorn are crop-haired oiks with guitars cranked to 12, Head Change are more menacing, more theatrical, more — yes — American. Speedhorn are street thugs who don’t give a f**k whether the industro-Goth-metal massive likes them; Head Charge are an abject lesson in studied chaos who most definitely do. Speedhorn race around the stage as if imaginary Pitfalls were snapping at their backsides; Head Charge merely stalk it. Speedhorn makes a noise like a sack of spanners hitting the ground at 100mph; Head Charge sound like Ministry’s offcuts buffed-up for the nu-metal generation. Both get an equally moderate reception from the Rammstein fans in the rapidly filling hall, but Raging Speedhorn — thanks largely to their balls-out lunacy — win it on points.

But this is unequivocally the headliner’s show. A decade into their career, and Rammstein remain the oddest rock stars around. In a few days time, their new single ‘Ich Will’ will gatecrash the UK Top 30; an impressive effort considering the sheer incompatibility between a band of German-speaking 30-somethings and the British record buying public. But it’s here, onstage, bathed in the light of six UFO-shaped pods hanging from the ceiling, that Rammstein work best. On record, the likes of ‘Link 2 3 4’, ‘Rein Raus’ and ‘Du Hast’ — all aired tonight, all virtually identical to their studio counterparts — are brusque and stentorian; metal machine music that marches to the beat of a military heart. With the added benefit of, say, a trio of guitars that spurt out 20-feet long jets of flame, they’re turned into the sort of bombastic, all-encompassing arena anthems that Kiss would sell their back catalogue for. The fast that they’re sung entirely and unashamedly in German — not now, or ever, The International Language Of Rock ’N’ Roll — only deepens the sense of glorious ridiculousness.

It’s impossible to accuse Rammstein of not having a sense of humour. You wouldn’t get, say, Scott Stapp of Creed sodomising his bespectacled keyboard player during a song called ‘Bück dich’. Similarly, the sight of Till Lindemann — the man with the strap-on — goose-stepping sternly across the stage in boots that shoot out waterfalls of sparks indicates a man not unaware of his band’s earnest reputation. And Lindemann’s legendary flaming coat, unveiled during ‘Rammstein’ itself, was, is and always will be nothing short of f**king impressive.

Ultimately, though, it’s the spectacle rather than just the songs that has drawn people here. And, as 10,000 people gorge themselves stupid on the columns of flame that appear on the stage as the band prepare to take their bows, that spectacle couldn’t be in better hands right now.

#Rammstein #Till Lindemann #Flake #Richard Kruspe #Paul Landers #Christoph Schneider #2002 #*scans #*

27 notes · View notes

shikidixi · 7 months

Text

forbidden unscorched ingos. then just some candids. bc if i dont draw this guy every 5 seconds. ill explode

#shadow of the sun #craftmaster ingo #artificer mephistopheles #apprentice cat #indie

3 notes · View notes

kaylinasher · 1 year

Text

TW - VIOLENCE, BLOOD, TORTURE, MENTION OF RAPE, MENTION OF EXECUTION

Damien's a complete and total asshole k?

When Lucifer had ruled Hell, his sons had been granted great power in the realm. When he'd been overthrown, some had tried to grab the throne, and now were in Caligo for their troubles. Damien had played by the rules, even if that meant bending them occasionally. He was not willing to give up his power, but after seeing exactly how much of their own his niece and nephew wielded, he knew that he would not be able to overthrow either of them. That did not mean, however, that he did not rule those within his castle with an iron fist that came down swift and harsh on any who crossed him.

Down in the bowels of the castle, Asher had been hung by his wrists from manacles attached to the ceiling of a cell that had wrought iron walls, ceiling and floor. His feet were also manacled with a chain that ran through a loop on the floor that they barely touched. All the way down to the dungeon, Asher had fought the guards to try and get free so he could get back to Kaylin. He had known that there were too many of them for him to defeat them all, but he had to try. Too many times he’d seen Lord Damien’s cruelty against those who displeased him, and Asher feared for what Kaylin was being subjected to now that they were alone in her room together.

When Damien made his way down to where Asher was detained, the black blood on his shirt was indication enough to Asher that he’d hurt Kaylin. How badly didn't matter, the Prince had laid hands on her in violence and the dragon within him yearned to strike out in a violent and vicious vengeance. Straining against his restraints that bit into his wrists and ankles, he tried to lunge at the Royal Prince. Curses flowed from his mouth like water as he promised pain and death to Damien, who in turn just darkly laughed in return. He knew the iron kept Asher from shifting or using any other kind of magic. It was why that cell was used. Containment.

“You can threaten till your voice runs out, but you can’t do a thing, dragon. You're as helpless as the day you hatched, the day I really should have killed you; before you could ruin my daughter. You’ll only get out of those chains when I take off your head in the morning.” Damien grinned malevolently as he circled Asher, taunting him. “Maybe I’ll let you live long enough to hear her scream as my entire legion,” he leaned in close to Asher’s back to whisper in his ear, “fucks your memory out of her.”

The roar that came from Asher could be heard through most of the castle and got the attention of all the guards who were in the lower two levels of the dungeon area. All were supremely glad the dragon could not escape his bonds. If freed, there was no doubt not a demon nor a stone would be left unscorched by his fire. While there were none that would question Damien’s orders, they also knew that crossing Asher often lead to death, and a painful one at that.

“I will kill you before I let you or your men touch her again!” The manacles cut into his skin, causing his yellow blood to start to slowly drip down his tanned skin that was stretched taut over his straining muscular forearms. He didn’t know how quite yet, but he would figure out a way to get free and he would get his revenge on Damien for this. Oaths were silently made to deities that he wasn’t sure existed, but he did believe in.

The laugh that came from Damien next was pure evil. "You can't shift, you can't even change positions. You'll do nothing but endure my wrath. The pain you feel will be the cost of ever thinking you were worthy of my daughter. Her punishment will be much more drawn out. Remember that as you receive your own…" Reaching to the table behind him, Damien took hold of the cat of nine tails that had imp claws at the end of each of the warg leather lashings. Sharp as razor blades, there was no doubt the damage that would be inflicted. His grin was malevolent as he slowly turned the leather wrapped handle in his handle, already anticipating the joy of making Asher suffer. There was a warmth of satisfaction that spread through his breast.

For the first few lashings he received, Asher did not give Damien the satisfaction of hearing him scream. His jaw clenched, his eyes closed, and though the skin on his back was flayed open, he did nothing more than grunt at the white hot pain that each strike brought with it. Behind his eyelids, he was focusing on Kaylin’s face and the firm belief he would find a way to get free and save her. Even with golden blood forming building rivers that were starting to flow down the backs of his legs, he refused to admit defeat.

Every hard strike that Damien delivered had him jerking against the chains, soft puffs of dust coming from around the bolts that secured Asher’s chains to the floor and ceiling. Even restrained, the dragon was strong and fighting hard against the bonds that held him. But Damien had planned ahead; the wrought iron contained his magic and slowing his healing. It was only a matter of time before Damien would break him, and there was plenty of that before dawn. Pain was one thing that he loved to deliver and he was not particularly choosy about who it was delivered to. Unlike his father, Damien had no love or compassion within him, only a drive for more power.

By alternating the direction of the strikes across Asher’s back, Damien was ensuring maximum damage. After hours of flagellation, it was not just Asher’s back that was raw, his throat was as well. His voice long since lost from screaming at the ever intensifying pain and the deepening realization he was powerless to protect the woman he loved. He now prayed to any deity listening for death, but it seemed that no one was listening since Azrael didn't appear to claim his soul. How he would have welcomed the angel he'd been avoiding all his life, if he'd only show up now.

When light started to filter through the small window in the cell, Damien decided it was time to retrieve his daughter for the execution of her lover. He was no longer enjoying the torture of Asher since he had lost the ability to scream and his strength was failing so he just hung limply from his chains. At least he would get some pleasure from his daughter watching him die, then what he planned for her after.

12 notes · View notes

jamietukpahwriting · 2 years

Photo

wild sun hair lightning smile sweet nectar drips from ambrosia lips

a mortal looks but cannot touch

basking in warmth fertile heart unscorched by love

~~~~~

“Fertile Heart” by Jamie Tukpah

Image Source

Follow me to engage with more content like this! If you’d like to support me and my writing buy me a coffee!

#writeblr #poetryblr #poetry #poem #black poets society #fertile heart #fertile heart by jamie tukpah #jamietukpahpoetry #jamietukpahwriting

25 notes · View notes

theyoterman · 8 months

Text

Lucidia and Lucidia the Unscorched Sprites : ) character and sprites by me : )

#deltarune #chapter 3 #secret boss #deltarune fan character #deltarune chapter 3 #lucidia #undyne #undyne the undying #green soul #shadow crystal

31 notes · View notes

icgaminglogs · 9 months

Text

Nightwing's Log, Night 15

Hell. Oswald's in trouble. And we can't just leave him dangling; he did give us his help. Eventually. Besides, at this point it's about the principle of standing against the Court as much as it is balancing the scales. Let's take care of this.

Jesus. The Iceberg Lounge is a wreck. But I can hear Cobblepot's voice, so he's still alive at least.

...goddammit. That bastard set me up. I found him pinned to the wall. If he'd told me about the gas mechanism behind him I might have been able to get us both out, but no. What kind of deal did he cut to turn me over to the Court. And where the hell am I. That gas hasn't fully worn off yet, the world keeps wavering. But they didn't take my weapons and I'm not tied down...that's something, at least. I hope.

My AR isn't working. Broken? Or shielded? What is this place? I'm feeling a little steadier now I'm moving, maybe that gas is wearing off, but that doesn't help me if I can't find a way out. Hopefully this log is still recording, though I don't guess it'll do anyone a whole lot of good if I stay stuck in here. Comms are blocked. Again. And I can't figure out what those things on the wall are. I've got a bad feeling about

...okay. So that was a trap, but here I am back where I started. That doesn't make sense. So let's think about this. Triggered a trap, woke up back at the beginning. Is this place even real? What did that gas do to me?

That picture wasn't there before. I know it wasn't. But that's the trap that got me, and that's me, getting got. What the hell...? Come on, Dick, stay calm and focus here. Even if this place isn't real, you have no idea how to break out of it yet. Only option is to keep moving. If that trap is still there I'll just have to find a way past it.

It's still there. So that hasn't changed, at least. Okay, let's try this...

That worked. Was that Kane's voice? So I am being watched. Fine. Let him watch. But like hell I'm going to give up here.

Wait, was that-...?

Are there Talons in here with me? I think I preferred the creepy voice-overs, thanks.

Okay...a maze of death. I can do this...slow and steady, look at the floor. Unscorched stone should be safe. Should be. But there's two paths from here, and I don't know which one to take. Guess we'll start with the left one. Might as well, since nothing else about this place is right. Ha.

Die here? The hell I will. And even if I do I won't be forgotten. But go ahead and keep underestimating me, Kane. I'll beat this place yet.

Okay, dead end this way...oh, there's gotta be a better way to say that in here. Time to double back and take the other path.

Wait a minute. That wasn't there before. It was fire jets, not a blender. And there's no sign of the other path; there's two new ones instead. How fast does this place change around me? How is it changing? I didn't even hear anything, and in a place like this sound carries. This has to be some kind of illusion. What was in that gas they hit me with...?

Deep breath, Dick. Stay focused. Let's go left again, see if it goes nowhere again.

Wait. That was. Bruce? But...no, don't get distracted. Distraction in here means death. Stay focused, Nightwing. Keep moving.

Well, the left path led somewhere this time. A seating area and a badly out-of-tune record player. And two new paths. Left again; best way to get out of a maze is just to pick one wall and keep following it.

That's...that is not okay. Breathe, keep breathing, whatever this is it's not real, it can't be real, there's no way. That's definitely not me lying on the ground like a discarded ragdoll. Keep moving, just keep moving....

And the body just disappeared. Like this place wasn't spooky enough. But at least that proves it's just an illusion.

Somehow that really doesn't make me feel better.

Stop using his voice.

Wha-...are those mummies? Oh god...there really is no way to tell what's real and what's not. Has to be the gas still, doesn't it? There's mist in here, maybe they're piping the stuff in, I don't know. But panic isn't going to help, I've got to stay calm. It's the only way I'll get out of here.

Stop using his voice.

What the hell is that?

Another mimic of me? This time with a Court mask on, as if that would ever happen. Fuck off, Kane. I'm going to get through this, and I'm going to take you down.

Stop. Using. His voice. Bruce would never use anyone as cannon fodder.

Oh no. Okay. I've faced this once before, I can do it again, right? They died a long time ago, this isn't real, it's just this place screwing with my head. Kane screwing with my head. He knows who I am, knows my history. He's trying to shake me, that's all. Trying to break me. It won't work. I won't let it. I can't.

What...? No...no, that's not...no, come on, have to focus. Keep moving, Dick!

No, that's not-...goddammit, stop using his voice!

Thank god, a doo-...oh *hell* no. I'm getting out of here, moving doors or no.

Finally. So, now where am I? Apart from some room with a huge owl lamp? My AR still isn't working, though...interference of some kind? Or is this still part of the illusion maze?

Looks like it. But I got through the puzzle room, so let's keep going. Only way out is through. Air's cleaner now, though; guess I was right about the gas. My head's killing me, but at least it's clear. Onward.

...that looks suspiciously like the room I woke up in. Call me paranoid, but I don't trust it.

Okay good, there's a path around. How big is this place, anyway?

Okay, since when did Talons talk? Is this one of the new ones? The ones made with living subjects? It was bigger than the others, too. But slower. and probably hit harder, not that I offered a chance to find out. Even that thing couldn't survive a statue on its head, though. Through the wall we go, hopefully this is a way out.

Holy Labyrinth, the rooms were moving. How long ago was all this even built?

My AR's working again! must have been interference or shielding. There's no telling how far underground I am, and I'm surrounded by what looks like concrete. Okay, let's see what we can find. There's got to be an exit somewhere.

Sometimes it's nice to go out with a bang. And maybe that'll make it harder for them to use their labyrinth for a while.

Oh that water's cold...but hopefully it'll lead me out of here.

Found their lab, at least. And what looks like their chief scientist. Handy.

They are using living people, jesus. And volunteers? Who would volunteer for this? Actually I'm probably better off not knowing. The scary part is how many there are already...even the League would be hard pressed to fight them off. If they get loose, Gotham's done for. I've got to get back to the Belfry...

Well that wasn't the way out. But Kane's planning on releasing all those Talons tonight? I've got to stop it.

That should do it. Hard to overrun Gotham when you're frozen solid. It won't stop them forever, probably, but it'll buy us a day or two at least. Time to go home.

Thank god.

#nightwing's log #dick grayson #nightwing #gotham knights #gotham knights game #fanfic #fanfiction #dc fanfic #nightwing fanfiction

2 notes · View notes