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imjustgoose · 2 months

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Harold Trotter and The Draconic Boogaloo

I wrote the next chapter for my strange fanfiction. I'm quite pleased at how it turned out. Just like before, you can read it on Ao3 here and leave comments, kudos or likes wherever you please! I hope you enjoy reading! |

“Did you hear about what really happened to Dolores?” Minerva whispered to Miraak, who sat by her side during assembly. The school year was about to start again, with cheer in the faces of students again. Miraak leaned in close to her with a calculated smile.

“Yes, terrible business to be attacked by…what this world calls centaurs. In my realm, we simply call them-”

“Welcome everyone to another exciting year at Hogwarts! Please, let the first years feel especially welcome as they feast with us for the first time tonight!” Dumbledore loudly interrupted what was likely going to be a racial slur from Miraak. The hall erupted with clapping and some cheers from the students. He simply rolled his eyes and gave a few claps. The tink tink from his gauntlets turned a few heads, but he wasn’t fussed.

“I’ll tell you about what we call centaurs later. I expect nothing but the finest sweets in exchange for such gossip,” Miraak spoke softly, in a voice made of gravel. Minerva giggled and gave his pauldron a fond pat before focusing back on Dumbledore.

“Tonight, I am very pleased to welcome back our former potions teacher, Professor Slughorn, who is eager to get back to teaching.” Dumbledore gestured to the old man on his other side. Miraak found older mortals amusing, their feeble movements and grey hair would never grace his person. “Now, enjoy the feast!” And Miraak would do just that. In a manner found only in children’s tales, he piled his plates high. Fried chicken legs, saucy kelpie ribs, salted broccolini, sausages, buttered corncobs, roasted newts, baked potatoes and a total of 48 oysters surrounded him. When he began dousing the oysters in lemon and Chinese Fireball sauce to slurp them up, Professor Snape eyed him with scrutiny.

“48 oysters, Miraak? One should hope you don’t lose your stomach from the overconsumption of shellfish,” he drawled. Miraak looked up from his plate with a splatter of hot sauce on his face.

“I have been invited here to feast. A dragon will eat when he is offered food so graciously, Severus,” he answered sharply. Snape quirked a brow and looked at Miraak’s goblet.

“Lemon wine, too? Such a voracious…app-e-tite,” Snape punctuated each syllable as he spoke. Miraak only snorted and feigned a look of pride.

“You sounded that word out perfectly. You’re doing very well with your basic speech work after years of stuttering from being bullied, keep it up! Ten points to Slytherin!” Miraak grinned before moving onto his fifth plate of oysters. A few teachers chuckled at the exchange before turning back to their dinners.

Snape shortly had to obliviate himself of that very moment, for the pain of being patronised by the bitchy dragon who took his job was too much to bear.

~~~~~~

“I can’t believe we have that bleedin’ maniac for a teacher again,” Ron grumbled as he walked with his friends to their Defence Against the Dark Arts class. Harry didn’t respond, but Hermione felt the need to silence his gob with a zipper charm.

“He can hear you, Ronald! Don’t you remember that he can hear almost anything?” She chastised him, “I quite like him, actually. He’s mysterious and a good teacher. Certainly beats having Voldemort, Coc- I mean Lockhart or a death-eater in disguise for a teacher. At least he’s a responsible adult! He actually teaches us things!”

“Are you mad? He’s a psycho! He’s also in Slytherin!”

“YES!” A familiar voice boomed across the corridor. Miraak looked down at his students from where he was perched on a pillar before jumping down gracefully and landing in front of them, “the house of the Serpent! I am ambitious, cunning and I am a real dragon! A serpent with wings.”

“Professor Miraak! It’s good to see you again!” Hermione went to shake his hand. He eyed her hand curiously before taking it. On instinct, she shook it politely, but Miraak decided to send a small bolt of electricity to her palm, causing her to rip her hand away with a yelp.

“Pruzah! How I have missed tormenting the youth and teaching them how to be warriors! I feel….ahhhh. Potter, why is your nose mishapen?” Miraak ceased his torment for a moment to look down and inspect Harry’s nose, twisted and bruised.

“Oh, um reading. It was a….gripping novel,” Harry lied worse than the Last Dragonborn when they ate the rest of the leftover Bosmer Beignets.

“Mmm, it is broken,” Miraak’s voice softened for a moment, “did someone do this to you?” He pressed his fingers to Harry’s nose.

“No! Can we just- Argh, let’s just go to class,” Harry pulled away from his touch. If Miraak had been less professional, hot flames would burn in his throat at the thought of someone hurting his children. Instead, his draconic pupils narrowed, but he put on a smile and looked behind the three to see his other students waiting patiently.

“You will stay behind after class, Potter. Welcome students! Vosaraan! My classroom has been rearranged!” Miraak waved the group over before dashing to his classroom. What had once been a generic classroom had become what Dumbledore described as a ‘shrine worthy of the most evil cults, with a touch of whimsy’.

“How’d you get the budget for this stuff? Looks like you had a day out in Knockturn alley,” Seamus marvelled, looking at the many dragon skeletons hanging from the ceiling. One dragon skeleton lay on the floor, coiled around an ancient throne where Miraak had placed a table with a fancy goblet and a plate. A strange being grumbled in a nearby cage, eyes glowing blue and form swaying lightly from the ancient armour hanging off its body.

“What? These are all mine, Finnegan! Relics of my conquests and artefacts with magic unknown to your realm!” Miraak gestured to everything in the room, “Back in my day I had a temple dedicated to worshipping me. More than twenty dragon skeletons laid dormant in the snow around my temple after I killed and ate their souls . I sat on this throne when I’d watch traitors dangle helplessly in cages. Humans, Elves and Beastfolk who dared to defy me made very good fodder for my enchanting services, for their souls were the most potent of all. Ahhh, good memories!”

“You killed people!?” Ron gawked at him, paler than usual.

“Only the ones who didn’t like me.”

“But, surely you heard me talking before? I don’t like you!”

“And have you felt alive since I started teaching?”

“What- no?”

“Then write your obituary, Weasel. I shall not be laying flowers but I will attend your funeral for the refreshments,” Miraak finally silenced Ron and stood still in front of the class, waiting for everyone else to be seated. He caught sight of Draco, but more concern bled into him when the boy didn’t laugh at the torment of a Weasley. If Miraak was capable of one thing, it was knowing his students well.

“Professor? Are you alright?” Hermione asked out of the blue. Miraak’s face must have looked concerned again, given that he still couldn’t hide his emotions. He let out a small sigh and began wandering around the room, his eyes not leaving the students.

“I know that this year may be a bit…unnerving. You are getting closer to the end, but I will make sure you are prepared,” he stopped to sit on a desk and cross his arms, “you have endless resources to help you, including myself. So, do not allow yourself to fall into the trap of melancholy as I once did. It can… krii , it can be the end of you.”

Miraak worked hard to bring up the mood in the class. It seemed that a lot of students were feeling stiff, especially when Dean spoke up.

“It’s hard to feel okay, Professor. Ever since the Dark Lord-”

“Perished? Yes I take full credit for that. He was an easy foe, really.”

“No, he’s still alive!”

“What, HOW!?”

“I don’t know how, Professor! He’s just been sighted again!”

“ RUTH! How dare he live!? I killed that hairless creature and took his wand!” Miraak pulled the bone wand from his pocket and flicked it at the Draugr in the cage. The undead simply started dancing, causing Miraak to look back at his students, “If he still lives I will hunt him down….in my spare time. Grading papers takes a lot of my free time, these days. I should have you all battle dragons for your exam just to save time and paperwork.”

“Harry fought a dragon in fourth year!” Seamus's words immediately stilled Miraak's anger, prompting him to stare at Harry with hardly-subtle pride and amazement.

“You survived? Tell me, did you feel power coursing through your veins? Did you strike it down and take its bones to be fashioned into weapons? Or perhaps…you awakened a new power within you?” Miraak closed in on Harry, his hands on his desk and eyes locked on him.

“Oh, no I just took the golden egg. We needed to for the trial. The dragon lived, I had to run away from it.”

“……”

“Professor Miraak?”

“Three hundred points from Gryffindor.”

“WHAT!?”

“Four hundred points to Slytherin.”

“He’s totally unfair!”

“I am perfectly fair, Weasel! Now, we shall see where you’re all up to…..”

~~~~~~

“Potter, I told you to stay,” Miraak called out to Harry from where he dangled from the ceiling beam by the toes of his brassy boots, “Sit. We have much to discuss.”

“After that lesson? I’m not sure I’ll be able to have a proper conversation,” Harry spoke with slight jest as he settled back in his desk area. Miraak scoffed and waved him off.

“Learning to speak to spirits from their bones whilst upside down is no small feat, but it won’t damage you permanently,” Miraak countered with his arms crossed. Suddenly, he jumped down onto Harry’s desk, startling the boy, “Someone has hurt you. I don’t wish to force you, but if you don’t tell me it will make everything much more difficult than it needs to be.”

“Do I really have to?” Harry asked, shifting uncomfortably. He looked as if he were in pain, which would make sense.

“Now, Potter. I won’t ask again,” Miraak demanded in a low, careful voice. His fingers curled into the wood of the desk, eyes narrowing dangerously.

“Can you maybe not tell anyone about it? It’s…I think it might be because of something dangerous,” he whispered. Miraak was immediately intrigued further, mulling over each possible outcome that Harry could relay to him. Petty squabbles over partners flittered across his mind a few times, it seemed likely enough.

“You have my word, Potter.”

“It’s Draco. He’s upset about his father going to Azkaban…who is a Death Eater.”

“That gives him no right to-”

“I know! I know. There’s more to it than that…. I saw him at Borgin and Burke’s with other Death Eaters, performing some kind of ceremony. Nobody else believes me,” Harry explains, lowering his gaze to his desk. Miraak let out a breath and held his hand to Harry’s nose, allowing Healing Hands to channel through his fingertips and heal Harry’s nose.

“It can completely isolate you, to shout into a void that will not listen. But I will listen,” Miraak reassured him, his voice low and rumbly. Harry’s nose went back into place without any pain, carefully unbreaking. Miraak slowly pulled his hand away and offered a warm smile, “ Drem , you look much better now.”

“Thank you, sir! That feels much better than when Luna tried to-” Harry stopped for a moment and squinted his eyes, “did you smudge my glasses? They look horrible.”

“Hmmm, no. Even if I did touch your glasses, my gauntlets are clean,” Miraak defended, his head tilting as he watched Harry take off his glasses and rub them. Harry took his time trying to clean them before slowly stopping and looking up at Miraak with wonder.

“Professor….what spell did you use?” He asked, watching each line and stray hair on Miraak’s face.

“A most basic healing spell. Are you unsatisfied with your nose?”

“No, no! It’s not that…it’s just that my eyesight, it’s…” Harry trailed off before slapping a hand to his mouth in amazement, “You healed my vision!?”

“Is that why you wear those wires around your eyes? Your vision was impaired?”

“You didn’t know?”

“It’s not a problem in my realm.”

“That doesn’t surprise me in the slightest Professor.”

~~~~~~

Further into the school year, Miraak had unfortunately been forced to take sick-leave due to contracting oyster pox. When the Dragonborn entered Miraak’s bedroom with a cup of tea, they looked at him with worry.

“I don’t mean to alarm you, but the school was attacked,” they sat on his bed as they spoke. Tea almost spilled from how quickly Miraak sat up.

“Attacked? No, I must be there!” Miraak scrambled to get out of bed, but was stilled by gentle fingers on his chest.

“You will die if you exert yourself. Aghhh, I told you to not eat five plates of oysters! You know that four is your limit!” They chastised him, sighing when he didn’t relent, “ Drem , please. You likely won’t be going back to teach anyways.”

“Hm? What do you mean?”

“The Headmaster was killed by…I think the message said ‘Snap’?”

“Dragonborn….fetch my travel bag.”

“Miraak, you can’t!”

But Miraak would.

Miraak will return in: Harry PotRoast and The Dragon’s New Clothes, Part 1

~~~~~~

Miraak's language key, translated by Thuum.org:

Pruzah = Good

Vosaraan = Make haste/Quickly

Krii = Kill

Ruth = Rage (Used like how you'd say 'damn!' when annoyed

Drem = Peace

#here I go again #writing my silly little words #i'm actually proud of this #I am really loving some of the lines I came up with #I'm like that meme of Obama giving himself a medal #Miraak gets to torment kids for a whole new year!#yippee!#skyrim fanfiction #miraak #miraak x reader #but its only slight xreader because its just The Last Dragonborn and they are “roommates”#Teacher Miraak #Somebody stop this dragon man

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fuzzy-set · 4 months

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Name: Thexikas

I wanted to make him look scary with half of his face ruined by Orin, but I couldn't replicate the look in bg3's character creator. So here is my little sketch instead.

Nickname: The Thrice-sworn/The Dark Urge

He swore his oath three times, each for a different purpose. (Details at the back)

Gender: Male

Star Sign: Aries

Height: 190cm(ish)

Orientation: Panromantic

Race: Tiefling

Romancing: Gale

Despite their rather rocky start (the distrust was mutual), Gale won him over with his cooking. After that, they were always there for each other, with Thexikas hunting any magical artefacts that Gale could consume and Gale watching over him when the tiefling was deep in the urge's throes.

Fave fruit: Anything sweet, such as bananas and dragon fruits. He may not show it, but Thexikas has a huge sweet tooth.

Fave season: Mid-summer

He is a tiefling, so he is accustomed to high temperature environment, and for some inexplicable reason he really likes those violent thunder storms with lightning flashes and heavy rain.

Fave flower: Thexikas knew little about flowers, but he did have a preference for roses, especially the red ones. The colour reminded him of blood.

After his memory returned, he was still drawn to roses, but he felt very guilty about it.

Fave scent: Roasted meat, because he liked good food. It was hard to come by during the days when he lived in Bhaal's temple.

After he moved to Waterdeep, the scent of old book/alchemical mixtures became his favourite- because it reminded him of home.

Coffee, tea or hot chocolate: Hot chocolate because it is sweet.

Average sleep hours: Eight, but when he was on the road he slept much less than that. Most of the time he would stand guard for his companions.

Dogs or cats: Both!

Thexikas is a bit afraid of Tara, because he knows her fireball is capable of penetrating all his fiendish resistance. (Besides, Tara gave him the shovel talk.)

Dream trip: While he was amnesiac, he wanted to visit Avernus- or any realms belonging to the infernal. He wished to see the source of his fiendish blood, for Thexikas mistakenly thought the urge to kill is due to some sort of a devil's curse. If he could unravel the mystery, perhaps he could either master it or be rid of it.

Amount of blankets: It is either none(summer) or 10(winter), there is no in between.

Random fact(s):

He had been an oath of conquest paladin during his Chosen days, spreading the cult of murder in his father's name. After losing his memory, Thexikas experienced vague flashes of him wielding immense power. Angered by the loss, he took up the oath of vengeance to kill whoever took that power. However, the taste of justice was bittersweet. It was after his sister's death that the tenets of vengeance lost their appeal.

He broke his oath by sparing Viconia Devir. Jaheira told him about the story of the last Bhaalspawn who spurned divinity to be with his lover- a former Sharran drow. Unfortunately, even with all his intellect and arcane might, the Bhaalspawn still lost his life to protect his beloved from assassins. Thexikas intuited that Viconia was the woman whom his predecessor fell for, although the drow seemed not to remember Gorion's Ward anymore. Moved by the tale, he decided to free her again in honour of his predecessor. (Yeah, I am unhappy about how bg3 handles Viconia's arc, so here's my little headcanon as a remedy)

Inspired by the life of the last Bhaalspawn, Thexikas broke his chains. He was no longer his father's pawn, nor was he a blood-crazed madman who killed for vengeance. Now he could truly live, with the one person he swore an oath of devotion for.

Alternative Ending: Fearful of his love life sharing the same trend as the last Bhaalspawn, he made Gale a god. In this way he would not die- at least not in a mortal sense. Then Thexikas went back to the root and became an oath of conquest paladin again, because it was what he good at. Many would know him as Ambition's hound, conquering new domains in his god's name.

tagged by @galedekarios!

#baldur's gate 3 #oc #thexikas

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dimalink · 6 months

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Treasure saga

Retro role-playing game about to walk in dungeons. With simple automatic level up. And a big part of storytelling, in a form of text screens between levels. Become a searcher for adventures. And collect all useful items as gold, sapphires, and all other valuable stuff from dungeons. And also receive lots of experience.

You are suggested to choose who will you be. Two classes at your choice. Warrior or magician. Warrior is good with sword. And magician is good with spells. Everyone will find lots of interesting for him in this dungeon. New spells and a new sword. It is very good to go for every adventurer.

Classes are playable equal way.

In dungeon you can find lots of treasures. Such as gold, sapphires. And, in some way, it is a game about scores. For all useful steps you are acquiring scores. Collect gold. You receive gold and scores. Destroy monster and gain scores. And aim in being in dungeon – as a rule for adventurer – it is gold and all other sapphires and gems. There are lots of them. So, walk by dungeon and collect all of them.

As soon as game field has a treasure. It will be automatically added to you in a counter of collected.

Also, a valuable part of the game – it is plot, story. Story is in a text screens. Text is made in fantasy direction. Here as ideas it was taken idea of fairytale fantasy, fantasy. It can be something like Dungeons and Dragons. Once again, games like Might And Magic, Eye of the Beholder, Bards Tale. Something like that. But all the story mainly goes to describe floors of dungeon. Every floor of the dungeon – it is just like a standalone world. With its own theme. And it is fantasy, by the way. Whole pages with text. Somewhere it is about two pages for a level. Somewhere it is page or one page of text. 10 floors of labyrinth. Plus introduction and game final. It is about even more text there.

Reading of fantasy text. About one more floor of the dungeon.

Tell me what do you prefer more

Sword or fireball?

You will have a meet with fantasy creatures. And another adventurers. It is about to fight with them. As a part of idea of a classical dungeon explore.

It is rat, big rat, zombie, evil gnome, gnome hunter, lord vampire, skeleton, ghost, dark lord, nosferatu, dead knight, mad eye, moon lord, gremlin, ogre master, Pegasus, rust warlord, giant viking, dragon, bird of prey.

4 types of useful items for search. They are gold, sapphires, crystals, gems.

And also, it is going score counter. For items you find and battles with monsters.

You are making updates though levels. You are upgrading your character with each new level dungeon. Floors of dungeons are full of useful items. And you are as a adventurer should be very interesting into it.

It is labyrinth made random way. Every labyrinth has exit. At every labyrinth you will find a new weapon. As for warrior, as for magician.

You will find a sword, axe of fire, energetical morning star, sword of barbarians kings, mythical claymore for undead.

You will gain powerful meteor, deadly spell, ice stone, tongue of fire, energy lighting.

Weapons and spells. All of these you are for sure will find in a floor of dungeon.

Basic Pascal pack - whole pack of games and programes, written with basic and pascal. It is retro. With each game and program there is a page at author`s website. There are aditional information, descriptions, pictures, arts.

Basic Pascal: http://www.dimalink.tv-games.ru/packs/basicpascal/index_eng.html

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niuttuc · 9 months

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New budget Commander cards: Wilds of Eldraine: Red

You know these by now, we'll go color by color, mixing main set and commander set. Reprints can be included if they brought the price down under our bar or are otherwise notable. All the cards presented here are under $2 at time of writing Note that the set hasn't officially released yet, so some prices may still be inflated, and others might spike in the future. Cards will be evaluated as part of the 99, not as commanders. Adventures with off-color parts will be carted off to the multicolor section.

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Filling the bottom of the curve of any given deck is important, and this lady does so quite well. She can jump your mana up to a four mana commander, and often will, she can filter your dead draws away (or get card advantage later on), or she can provide just a bit more damage. It's a solid cheap card to put in any red deck, but is particularly useful if you're particularly keen on having effects on legs, or if you're using Red's temporary creature copies.

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I'm grouping these two despite one being wider ranging than the other. For a couple years now, WotC has been working in making a new form of Aristocrats in Rakdos that specifically wants your tokens to attack first before being sacrificed. These two are shoe-in for any commander in that strategy, that I think is exemplified by DMU's Garna.

With that said, they both have their uses. A trumpet blast with upside is nothing to scoff at, and the Song is a on-rate hasty token maker that ALSO doubles as a one mana haste enabler to finish off a combo turn with an attack. With any form of buff, it'll outperform a fireball.

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+3/+1 and trample, at instant speed, for a single red, with a lingering buff, it's pretty much the best one mana combat trick in red to this day (that doesn't draw a card.) Any deck interested in those, be it Feather or Zada, might want to give this one a look. The fact the buff is an aura also opens it to any voltron or aura synergy commander in red that can take advantage of that. +5/+3 onto an Uril at instant speed is quite interesting for a single red.

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In a similar realm, this is a tormenting voice like we get every set, but with a huge difference: it targets a single creature you control. This opens a lot of interactions with mostly the same decks as Monstrous Rage. Feather gets repeatable Tormenting Voices that buff a creature and drains, Zada buffs the entire team while laughing all the way to the bank as she draws 16 cards and also if you board wipe her she now drains the table for 18 total life. A bit less synergy with aura commanders but some might still want to give it a look.

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How to Keep an Izzet Mage Busy was a mystery booster playtest card, this is now the main set version of that. This spell that does a bit of everything begs to be copied as many times as you can muster in stormy ways. It may not look like much if you're not familiar with these decks, but trust me, someone somewhere is cackling imagining what they'll do with this.

Mythic dragon go brrr. There's better dragons available out there, but this is a pretty decent one. The mana sink being able to ping literally anything is quite good at holding the table hostage, bargaining should be trivial in a format of Treasures and mana rocks, so you get a rebate of most of the cost and a big hasty dragon with quite a bit of upside.

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Paying two mana to fling artifacts is quite a bit for any strategy that would want to make use of it, this is no Goblin Bombardment, but it is notable that even with a single copy, this turns every single Treasure into two potential damage, you can point at anything, at instant speed. Ironically, Food may be one of the worst types of artifacts to pair with this.

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Reprints

All these Enchanting Tales are now below our $2 threshold!

Goblin Bombardment is a messed up magic card that instantly makes your creatures much less attractive removal targets and can hold on a board by itself. Any red token deck basically needs it, and any creature-based red deck likely won't regret running it.

Mana Flare was last printed as a legal magic card in 1997. Saying it was awaiting this reprint is an understatement. It wasn't super expensive anyway, but this is the first black border (well, borderless) version since BETA, so if you're a group hug player or a spicy storm player, this is very welcome.

Shared Animosity is a great finisher for any typal deck in red that wants to go wide. It used to be pricey, but this is the last in a series of reprints that brought it down to under a $1.

Impact Tremor is a common find as a combo finisher with infinite etbs, as a way to turn many tokens into many damage, in decks that increase or double the damage output of their permanents, or any combination of the three. It's a very popular commander card, and despite being a common that got reprints into commander precons, it still managed to climb to nearly $5. This should tell you just how played this card is in commander.

And finally, a few more Enchanting Tales saw their prices SMASHED by this bonus sheet, but not quite down to our $2 cut. They're still included here because all of these might be inscribed into your brain as expensive cards that aren't accessible at all, but this reprinting brought every single one of these under $10, and most under $5.

#mtg #commander #edh #sleeper #long post #red #budget

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thebuginthecornerofyourroom · 10 months

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Imagine you're a mage, right, but not just a mage, a top-notch fire mage, immortal, absurd levels of power, got the knowledge of the True Fire Magic from elder dragons, can melt dark steel asi if it were wax, sbsolutely scary stuff, and you and your fellow immortal heroes have fought calamities and fallen gods and brought peace to the world, and through guidance and patience have produced first an era of enlightenment and then technological advancement, we're talking living androids, flying autonomous cities, colonies in three of the moons, and things are not without some degree of conflict, but nothing that the people can not handle, so you find yourself in a personal crossroads, because with the magic technology, people are much less dependant on classical magic than before, and while the rest of the immortal heroes have found some purpose in research and study, or teaching, or some other ambicious goals, you, the living weapon, the calamity in the shape of a person, the one that holds the Sun in the palm of their hand, find yourself useless for the society, because no one really wants to study or document True Fire Magic, as talking to dragons was prohibited with the Law of Mythical Entities of 6548, books already say everything needed to know about it, and if you need fire there are other ways less dangerous than learning by trial and error how to modulate the intensity of a fireball, so you quietly leave the group of adventurers trying to find something new in your eternal life, and your travels are not as successful as they should because you cannot really hide yourself, as the Magic brands your body, and while people are not scared since they all have seen the stories and the old shows in the TV, they are still distant because of the whole living weapon and all that, so you continue your travels and you end up in an old inn, beautiful place, in the side of the road in a clearing in the forest, and the ambience inside is chill and calm, and no one seems to lay an eye onto you, which is a strange sensation for once, and you start talking to the innkeeper and by the Gods this person loves to talk, and they tell you about how they inherited the inn from their father and his father before him, and how the building is set atop some kind of sacred ground so no big disasters have hit it, just the usual manteinance for a building of its kind, and you spend the whole afternoon listening to this person who should have been a bard but is an innkeeper, and night comes, so you ask them to pay and also for a room and they refuse because no one really stays this much and it has been a long time since they could tell their stories, and so you spend the night and in the morning the innkeeper serves you breakfast and starts again telling you stories from the decades and decades of people that have come and gone from the inn and they sure have a lot of stories, god damn, and they keep chatting interrupted only by the occasional customer and the usual tasks of the inn, but they keep chatting with you, even if you have to go with them to each room to see them clean it because they are in the middle of a story and it would be a shame to leave it unfinished because you are absolutely transfixed into this person and their tales, they are the most intesresting thing that has happened to you in millenia, and it's nothing epic, nothing heroic, just tales of a world alive, so you stay one more day, and then another, and another, and you start noticicing yourself paying too much attention at their beautiful hair, starting to grey, and the wrinkles around the mouth and forehead from smiling too much, and their hands, rough from work but full of life, and some nights you just talk and some nights you laugh, and some nights you drink, and some nights you cry, because they have no children so when they pass no one will be there to run the inn and they feel a small piece of magic will die, so you look deep into their eyes, plain and common, with yours, crowned by the eternal fire, and you speak true for the first time in centuries.

You confess feelings you had not felt since you were an apprentice, how they've been the first person in forever that has treated with such kindness and respect, and how you cannot bear the thought of leaving their side, and you kiss, and you love them, and they love you, and in a newfound life you stay, you run the inn with your partner, you start a small library with their stories, and the years pass, and you see them grow older and older, but it's ok, and you start taking more and more of the tasks of the inn yourself, but it's ok, really, and every year they are more and more old and tired but you still love them the same, and they still love you the same, and the time comes with sadness, but also joy, because you understood it from the beginning and treasure the small time you've spent together, and you bury them in the magical grounds, in a spot where years later thousands of different flowers bloom every year, even plants from other regions, and you keep the inn, full of memories, full of a magic that cannot be taught or manufactured, and after all this time of unrest and uncertainty, you finally feel at peace.

Imagine that.

#writing #writeblr #writblr #how in the hell can I ramble stuff in peace when paragraphs can only be 4000 and a something characters long #imagine that #short stories

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cosmicshitshow · 1 year

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Vent story I wrote in notes app. I didn’t really try with this but feel free to critique it if you want.

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Unbeknownst to you, a land of potential exists. A populous and vast land where everything can have ten times the colour yet also might be coated in grey boredom and a black depression depending on where you travel.

In this land is a cave where an old and withered dragon lies hopeless and alone. Everyday he will heave himself off his pillar and lazily hunt unfortunate goats wandering nearby his cave’s mouth. Once he’s eaten enough, he returns to his cave where he will ponder his past until he falls asleep. Maybe, if he was lucky, a foolish knight looking to prove himself to a lord would enter the cave to slay the dragon, but would be scared away by the dragons fiery breath.His cave was grey.

A scraping of metal on stone is heard one day by the dragon’s strained ears that awoke him from his slumber. The familiarity of the sound scared the dragon. It reminded him of an age of his long gone, ripped away from him by greed.

“Aha!” raised a young man’s voice, as if he had found his missing keys. “I have found a beast long hidden. Only showing his evil face on the tongue of old wives scaring their children. No longer shall you hide from humanity, for we will have our revenge.”

The young man seemed much more confident than the typical knight. This intrigued the dragon. He decided to throw him a few words instead the usual routine of spitting a fireball or two. He rolled over on his belly and asked “What makes you, a single knight, think you could best me? Ah is it the classic tale? Your sword was crafted by the most skilled dwarf of blah blah blah…”

The knight dropped his sword on the ground as it clattered against the cold stone beneath him. “No, sir, for this tool was only for the journey. This is my true device.” The knight reached into the sack he heaved off his other shoulder and revealed a lute. “Every brave soul to come face you has done so using iron and might. I shall use song and dance.”

And so the knight played the most beautiful melody the dragon had ever heard of his entire life. The dragon dragged his thin grey feet and began to dance along to the melody. “Aha! This is wonderful, my friend! Only once have I encountered a bard. Evil things, I thought they were, but you, my friend, are a prime example of a true joy-bringer.” The knight stopped playing for a brief moment to ask “Ay? And why was this bard so evil? We’re usually friendly folk.” And began playing again. “That you are; for the most part. See, a winter ago a bard came to me and offered me the greatest dance of all. I obliged and for months me and this bard travelled. But after a falling out, we separated for many more. We suddenly encountered each other once more and rebuilt our friendship, but little did I know he was simply using me to get to my gold. A few months later, I was bardless and goldless in one fell swoop. This is what drove me here, to this grey and dusty cave when once I lived in a cave full of gold and colour.”

The knight played on for days, only stopping for rest and meals. One day, he asked “Good sir, I am having the most wonderful time performing here for you. But I must tell you my mission. I came here to tame you. To be your new bard. I wanted to prove to my people that you shouldn’t be slain. That you could be assimilated into our society. I believed you to be a friendly beast and I was correct. So please, come to my town and prove yourself to my people.” The dragon responded. “My good bard, I would love to. But my former bard has cursed me to this cave and the surrounding area. I may no longer leave. Only a certain song may lift my curse, freeing me upon the rest of the lands.” The knight felt deep sorrow for the dragon. “Sir, I will help unleash you from this cave!” The knight sat with the dragon as they tried to recreate the song to free the dragon with the dragon humming what he could remember and the knight piecing together combinations of it. Eventually, after several days, they cracked it.

The dragon and the knight left the cave, and although the dragon never felt completely safe around another bard, he knew in practicality that not every bard was terrible, and this knight truly did sympathise with him, and helped him escape his accursed cave.

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artzychic27 · 2 years

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I have an akuma story idea, where Zoé becomes a dragonfly/dragon humanoid creature. The dragonfly is gracefully on her feet, flexible, and very fast as well as like a fairy tale prince or Disney prince. She is also very tall and has extra arms with the addition of the dragonfly’s wings. Her dragon form is very large however, like to the point a person can fit in her hand. She has very sharp teeth that can bite literally anything and has horns and dragon tail but still has the dragonfly’s wings. She just wants to dote on Cosette and call them cute names and take them on dates stuff like that. While Cosette is pretty confused and very flustered by this. Also the akuma is very protective of them so I wouldn’t hurt Cosette or you have to say bye bye to your life when the akuma finds you. That's all I got for a story idea and I don’t really know what other power to give her.

All I can think of is she can shoot fireballs🤷🏾

#Zoé x Cosette #miraculous ladybug #miraculous #fic idea #zoé lee

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mrapplethorn · 10 months

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Artificers that don’t use tech

One of the classes of which it doesn’t always feel like it belongs in your (or the adventure’s) world is the Artificer. Its name does not imply that though, we all know the Artificer in Dungeons and Dragons is a person that combines steampunk-esque contraptions with the magic found in most D&D worlds. An Artificer should be, according to the word’s description, a trickster or an immoral craftsman of clever devices. Confining this description to a person that uses metal contraptions to cast spells feels a bit shallow, so here are a few ideas you can use to build your next Artificer.

Art by Kris Theorin (left) and Lily Abdullina (right)

The Gingerbread Man’s Baker

Battle Smith Artificer – Cook’s Utensils

Delirious Barnsforth started out as a simple cook, working for a local noble family. Wanting more out of life, he accidently poisoned the lord and lady of the house. He fled into the forest where he met a benevolent Hag. She gave him shelter and taught him the basics of spellcasting. Delirious showed some affinity for the arcane arts, but he lacked in creativity.

Only after he discovered that there was a way to combine spellcasting with cooking did he really become a force to be reckoned with. His first ‘Steel Defender’ was a blob of dough that he somehow managed to trap a fey spirit in. These days he is known for bringing to life the famous Gingerbread Man.

How to play him

If you have spent one second on the internet, you know there are people on there that love to correct everyone that says Frankenstein when they mean Frankenstein’s Monster. Likewise, Delirious also corrects anyone that calls him anything but The Gingerbread Man’s Baker.

Every spell Baker Barnsforth casts is somehow shaped like a cook’s utensil, food, or other items you’d find in a kitchen.

Delirious, as an Artificer with the Battle Smith subclass, has a steel defender, although his is not made of steel but of dough, and in the shape of his oh-so-famous Gingerbread Man.

Art by Marcin Kulesza (left) and Dan Dossantos (right)

The Tatted Artificer

Armorer Artificer – Painter’s Supplies

Born without a shred of magic in her bones, Diana Jones studied to become an archeologist. Her interests also lied with art and painting, tattooing in particular. So, when she stumbled upon a mysterious dark fluid within a buried temple her first thought was to test it on her skin.

How to play her

Every feature, feat, spell, and ability of the Tatted Artificer is represented by a tattoo on her body. As shown in the image the spell Shadow Blade could manifest as a set of removable scimitar tattoos on your characters back.

The armor she would need to wear to gain her subclass abilities has taken the form of tattoos also.

If you play in a campaign where money has a prominent place, You and your DM have to agree on some things. Armor is a big aspect of the Armorer Artificer. Something we just replaced with tattoos. The easiest step is to keep the cost of an armor improvement but let it technically be an added tattoo.

Art by Alejandro García

The Snake Oil Salesman

High Elf Alchemist Artificer

Smoke billows from their workshop. The Healer of Harkonen goes by many names. But most people know them as Dietrich the Knife-eared Snake oil Salesman. Tall tales of their past are whispered in taverns. They speak of an elf who brought down the destruction of an ancient city with their disease-spreading elixirs. What the stories leave out however is that this simple alchemist does not work alone. They and their twin have travelled the world, fought beasts, and harvested magical components. Now they run a shop that sells miracle potions, miracle in the fact that you will never truly know what happens when drinking them.

How to play them

Dietrich or their sibling do not contribute to a fight with their physical skills. Their spells take on the form of potions, salves, and other concoctions. A fireball for example could be akin to a Molotov Cocktail.

Art by Oleksandr Kozachenko (left) and Victor Titov (right)

The Woodsman

Plasmoid/Reborn Artillerist Artificer

Once a man, the creature now only known as the Woodsman, is a hulking green figure. Raised as an orphan in a Druid Circle, his past is not well documented. His abilities are druid-like but also very alien to them. The forest is his home and the object of his protection. When provoked he breaks of pieces of himself that can act on their own and can only be described as vinelike cannons.

How to play him

The Woodsman has a lot in common with the Oath of the Ancients Paladin, you could even use the tenets of this subclass to guide you in your actions.

The spells the Woodsman casts all thematically link back to his plant-based nature.

#dnd #dnd character idea #artificer #dungeons and dragons #dungeons & dragons

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neonmcqueen · 2 years

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Stranger Things

Season 1

Eddie Munson X OC ( Eddie will come in and out of the Seasons )

Chapter 1

Hawkins, Indiana; mom moved us here, back in 1979. Mom and dad divorced. To be completely honest the man was a shit father and even a worst husband. I’m not saying this cause thats what mom told me, I say this cause I saw it first hand. Dustin my brother was lucky to not see it like I did. I was able to shield him from it. Insert D & D. For those of you that don’t now what it is; Dungeons & Dragons is a fantasy role-playing game. Dustin and I could play this for hours I would make dungeons for him to play, though it’s a lot better with more people and it makes for a longer game.

Dustin found three others with the same love for the game when we moved here. Lucas Sinclair, Mike Wheeler and Will Byers. They became fast friends; we would play the game in Mike’s basement along with Mike’s sister Nancy as she was around the same age as me, we got along for the most part. As the years went on Nancy pulled away from us and the game. She started focusing more on her studies and developing more “friendships” specifically with one person or should I say boy by the name of Steve ‘the Hair’ Harrington.

As I lay on the couch reading Christine once again as Mike DM’s the game; listening to Mike as he tells the tale of what’s happening in his campaign. “A shadow grows on the wall behind you…” the boys quite, “swallowing you in darkness…” keeping them in suspense, “it is almost here…”

The boys began to speculate as to what it could be, “…What is it?” I hear Will’s voice as I turn the paper in the book.

“The Demogorgon?” I nodded my head as Dustin tosses his theory. I’ve tried to keep my mouth closed as he got me killed earlier in the game.

The boys keep going back and forth - Mike waiting for them to calm down, “An army of Troglodytes charge into the chamber!” I move my left wrist having my watch faced me seeing time causing me to sit up and close the book; the sound of the miniature hitting the map, “Their tails drum the floor. Boom! Boom! Boom!”

“Troglodytes?!” Dustins voice was that do relief and happiness.

“Toldja!” Lucas said smugly causing the boys to laugh.

That was till they see Mike look over his shoulder looking at me as I place my book in black studded back at my feet, “Wait…do you hear that?” His eyes going wide as he looks back at his friends, “Boom! Boom! BOOM! That sound…,” he pauses for effect, “it didn’t come from the Troglodytes. No. It came from behind them…” Then Mike slams down a miniature on the map one the Dustin predicted, “The Demogorgon.”

The boys stare at Mike hopelessly, “Bet you all wish I was alive now.” I teased the boys.

“We’re in deep shit.” Dustin called out his hands playing with his cap.

“We’re all going to end up dead like Vivian.” Lucas cried out his hands up in the air.

“If someone looked around instead of walking down the hall.” I teased once more with the boys.

This cause Dustin to pull his hat down over his eyes, “I’m sorry.” He whined knowing that they could be using my help right now.

“Will,” Mike calls to his friend at the card table, “your action.”

Will sallows, unsure of what to do next, “I…I don’t know…”

Lucas and Dustin go back and forth trying to get him to do a Fireball or a Protection spell, “If I do fireball I would need a thirteen or higher…” Will taking out what he would do and what would need for his roll.

Dustin cut him off, “Too risky.” Hopping he would cast protection on him and his friends.

“Don’t be a pussy!” Lucas chimed in, “Fireball him!”

Mike try’s to use a deeper voice, “The Demogorgon is tired of your silly human bickering; it steps toward you. Boom!”

“FIREBALL HIM WILL!” Lucas yelled out.

Mike continues to speak, “Another step. Boom!”

Dustin and Lucas start to call out there choices once more causing me to smile at the boys I call my ‘brothers’. Will yell’s out, “FIREBALL!” As he toss’s the dice, just a little to hard as it roll’s right off the table somewhere on the floor. This caused the boys to jump out of there sets to find the die, needing to see the number it held on it face.

“What is it?!” Lucas asked out loud.

“I don’t know!” Will said in frustration as they all looked.

“Is it a thirteen?” Dustin asked Will.

This only caused Will to yell out. “I DON’T KNOW!”

As they scramble to look for the dice when the sound of the basement door opening meats my ears, I can see the boys all look up, “Mom,” Mike began calling up to his mom, “we’re in the middle of a campaign..!”

“You mean the end.” Mrs. Karen Wheeler told him, “Fifteen after.” This cause the boy to run up after his mom, I’m sure trying to get a few more minutes of game time.

I gather the boys bags and hand them out, soon Lucas, Will and my brother were stuffing there backpacks, I swing my bag over my shoulder.

“Does the seven count?” Will ask us holding the dice in his hand.

“It was a seven?!” Lucas asked as Will nods, “Did Mike see it?” Will shakes his head, “Then it doesn’t count.”

Dustin was putting his coat on as he looks from his friends to me then the pizza on the table. As the boys go to run up the stairs my dear bother picks up the pizza box, “Yeah,” the boys stop on the stairs causing me to shake my head,”does anyone wont this?”

This cause’s both of them to say, “No.” at the same time.

“Come on Dust.” As I began walking up the stairs, hearing light ones fallowing me up. “Hey Mrs. Wheeler,” I say seeing Mikes mom as I see her standing there looking into my eyes.

“Ten Hours.” Was all she said to me with a very little smile.

I try giving her a smile, “I did make sure their homework was done before hand.” I try to plead my case with the mother.

Dustin had passed me with the box heading up stairs to see Nancy, I guess seeing as Holly was in bed. I move from the kitchen hearing Dust ask Nancy if she would like the last pice only to have the door close on him. Making my way outside as I say good night to everyone. It didn’t take lone for Dustin to come outside, “There’s something wrong with your sister.” As he closed the door.

Mike looked at him confused, “What are you taking about?”

“She’s got a stick up her butt.” Dustin lets his friend know as I try not to giggle.

“Yeah,” Lucas agreed getting on his bicycle, “because she’s been dating the douchebag Steve Harrington.”

“Yup.” Dustin agreed causing my to laugh out loud, “She’s turning into a real jerk.”

“She’s always been a real jerk.” Mike lets is friends now as they get on there bikes and putting the lights on for them to see.

“No she used to be cool like Vi.” Dustin countered to his friend as they began to leave, “She even dressed up for when we did the elven campaign.”

“Four years ago Dust.” I call out walking to my car, “That was four years ago.”

“Just sayin.” As he pulls away form the driveway and my car.

“Lucas,” I say causing him too stop riding, “call my house when you get home k?” Not giving him any reason, knowing the drill by now.

He rolled his eyes’ nodding, “I will.” Just before yelling over his shoulder, “C’ya.” Pushing off to get up to my bother.

Just as I unlock my car I call out to Will, “You too Will call when you get home.” Will gave me the thumps up as the lights at Mikes house flicker. Getting into my car seeing the kids peddling away. It was easy when they would just let me drive them home, to be safe. With a sigh I start the car AC/DC playing as I leave.

Getting home was quick and painless; only taking a couple minutes, mom always leaves the outdoor light on. Once in side it doesn’t take long for the phone to ring, “Hey Vivian.” Comes Lucas voice as I pick up, “home safe.”

I could here his mom and dad talking in his end, “Hey Lucas,” I smile into the phone, “thanks for calling.” Not long after I hear Dustin making his way into the house, “Night Dust.” I call out knowing my mom is passed out in bed.”I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Night Viv.” He said softly making his way to his room, his door closing with a light click.

I sat there waiting for Will to call, fifteen minutes had passed and nothing. My leg bouncing as I wait. I pick up the phone calling the Byers home only for me to hear static on the line, “Will you there?” I question as the low hum slowly becomes a growl then it dies. I hang up the phone and call again still nothing not even a busy signal. I hang up once again trying to figure out what could have made the sound. I wait before calling once again this time the phone rings, and rings. “Come on Will.” I softly talk to myself as I leaned on the wall in the kitchen, “Pick up.” Put still nothing I hang up for the last time having a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach as I look at the clock in the kitchen. Seeing the late hour - 9:45 - I could only hope that this was a joke and my dream no a nightmare coming a realty.

My alarm was piercing in the morning, I stayed up hopping for some kind of call from Will or his mother or brother. Swinging my legs out of the warmth of my bed hitting the alarm off, “Yeah,” I yelled out making my way to my bedroom door opening it. “I’m up.” Seeing mom already dressed for the day. Gunning my way to the bathroom getting ready for the day, as I was twenty minutes into getting ready the whine of my bothers voice cut through the door.

“Vi!” The light hit of his hand on the door, “Come on!” I open the door still brushing my teeth seeing him dancing on his toe’s causing me to let out a small laugh.

Spitting the toothpaste out with a swish of water I was out of the bathroom with a light smile on my face hearing the door close behind me. Once back in my room I picked my outfit for the day. I pulled out a black top that had words bleached out - IN ROCK AND ROLL WE TRUST - along with one of my favourite pair for black jeans that had rip’s though-out the front of the legs and a pair of socks. My jewelry was mainly chains along with my silver rings.

Looking over myself one last time in the floor length mirror and some hairspray in my hair I approved. Taking my black leather jacket that I made my own - I had put studs all over the front, top and sides - and grabbing the current book I was reading in the bag I was good to go for the day.

Seeing my dear bother eating at the table still not dressed for the day, “You going in with me today Dust.” He looked at me with his mouth full of food shaking his head. “Got enough food in there.” The playfulness dripping from my mouth. Seeing as mom had left me coffee I happily grabbed a mug, ‘tis the nectar of life. With mug in hand I took a quick sip. “Mom leave?”

“Yeah,” he swallowed most of the food in his mouth as he looked at my face, “you look like shit.” He pointed out.

I stopped mid sip to give him a pointed look, “Thanks Dust.” Glaring at him; my face softening, “Hey did Will say anything to you last night?” I question lightly hopping I was wrong.

His head shaking, “Why?” Taking in the last of his food, I took the dish and placed it in the sink.

He gave me a confused look, “No, reason.” Without giving him a full answer I moved quickly to get my black leather biker jacket, throwing it over my shoulders, “I’ll see you tonight.” With that I hurried off to school to talk to Jonathan, Wills older brother. Waiting by my car for Jonathan seeing him pull in, I rush over, “Hey.”

His face was one of confusion as he got out of the car, “Hey,” closing the door looking at me, “what’s wrong?”

“Will never called.” I jump right to the point, looking into Jonathan’s eyes, “I asked him to call when he got home.” His eyes drop from mine. “Please tell me he got home last night.” I beg him as my hands grip my bag on my shoulder.

“I was in the dark room late.” He look guilty as he was telling me this. “He wasn’t at home this morning.”

“I should have drove him home.” I tell Jonathan, “You didn’t see him?” He shook his head once again.

“Your shaking Vivian.” He stepped closer to me placed his hands on my shoulders, “What wrong?”

Letting out a shaken breath, “The pace few months I’ve been having the same nightmare.” The words coming out in a whisper, “Last night was the first time I don’t have it.”

“Okay,” He looked confused yet concerned, “what about?”

I scolded myself for even saying it out loud, “About something taking Will.” His eyes meeting mine widening a little as I say this. “I know I sound crazy.”

He drops his hands from my shoulders and stepped away from me, “Maybe he just forgot to call you.” His eyes looking at anywhere but me, “He’s probably at school.” The bell rang telling us that school was about to began, “I’ll tell him to call you.” And with that he walked away from me and all I could do was let a tear roll down my face.

It wasn’t till about the middle of the day in History that the principal came to the room, “Miss. Henderson, please come with me.” He called into the class, causing everyone to turn and look at me as I gather my books and bag. Following him down the hall to his office stood Chief Hooper and Deputy Callahan.

I sat down in the chair as Hopper leans on the principal’s desk, “It’s Vivian right?” Hopper began speaking to me.

I nodded my head, “Yup.” It was all I could get out with having to a break down.

“Can you tell me what you did last night?” He asked as his Deputy had his pad and pen ready to take my statement.

“Sure,” trying to give a smile, “almost every Sunday Dustin goes to the Wheelers; this Sunday was D & D.”

“What’s that?” The Deputy asked his head tilted.

“Oh sorry,” I looked to both of them, “its a board game - Dungeon & Dragons the more players the funner the game.” I try to keep it simple. “I play the game with them.”

“After the game?” Hopper pushed on not caring about that part.

“Right,” I nodded moving on, “when we were leaving I asked Lucas and Will to call me once they got home.”

“You don’t give them a ride home?” Hopper’s eyes were as if they were looking into my soul.

Shaking my head at the older man, “No the only time that they willingly get in my car is when it’s raining or snowing out.” Telling them truthfully, “They think it’s uncool to be seen with your sister or something.” I let a dry laugh, “Plus they like to race home.”

“So did he?” Hopper’s voice cut the tension in the room.

Shaking my head once more, “No I called the house.” Filling them in, “The Byers house, but…” I looked down at my hands.

“But?” Hoopers hands moved about as he said this.

Looking back up at him, “The phone never rang.” I could only hope he didn’t push this aside like Jonathan, “It was just this low hum then this growl.” I tell the Chief and his Deputy, “Then nothing, and I tried till 9:45 but sill no answer at their house.”

The both of them look to one and other, “That’s it?” He looked unbothered by this, as I just nod my head.

As he pushed off of the desk, “He never made it?” My voice sounded broken as I asked, causing Hopper to look at me sadly, as a fresh tear rolled down my face.

“We’re looking into it.” Was all he could say as he and the Deputy leave the office. I could not help but feel guilty about this.

The rest of the day moved on as I tried to stay away from people the rest of the day that was till I was making my way to my locker, I heard the grating voice of one of my least favourite people call out, “Aww look at the freak.” What a why to end the day.

Closing my eyes as I take a breath, turning I see Carol Perkins standing with her boyfriend Tommy Hagan and Steve Harrington. I look her dead in the eyes as mine blaze, “You know Carol I’d like to see things from your point of view,” The smile on my face was a wicked one, “but I can’t get my head that far up my ass.” Very much done with today, as it was.

The people around us slowed as they watched on, “What,” she took a step to me, “did you just say to me?” Her voice was getting higher if that was at all possible.

“I’m going to assume that’s rhetorical.” A few teens around us scuff a laugh, as I walk away from the trio, not caring at this point. Once at my locker I took the books that I needed and made my way out of the hellish place and headed home.

I made it home and waited for Dustin - thankfully mom would not be home for some time - I tossed my bag on my bed and waited at the dinner table. My foot banging on the ground, stopping as Dustin came through the door, “We need to talk.” We both say at the same time, he closed the door behind him.

He crossed the house to me, “Did the cops talk to you, too?” I nod my head trying not to cry, Dustin saw my eyes getting red, “What happened?”

The question caused the water works, “I call…called his house last night,” Dustin came to stand before me not sure what do to with me, “he never picked up Dust.” I cried harder looking up to him, “Dust, there was this growl on the line.”

He looked concerned, “A growl like GRRR?.” His growl caused me to laugh as he could never do anything menacing.

“No deeper.” I say looking at deep into his eyes, “But thats not the weird part Dust.” I pushed out of my chair making my way back into my room as he followed behind me. There on my bed side table was a book. I picked it up and handed it to him, “This is my Dream Journal,” I sat on my bed watching him read it, “last night was the first night I didn’t have that same dream.”

He slowly looked back up to me, “You’ve dreamed of what happened to Will?” Before I could even say anything he cut me off, “For months!?!” This caused me to cry harder into my hands, “Viv.” His voice soft as I feel his arms wrap around me, “It’s ok.”

We hug for a few minutes but soon pull away from one another. I try to wipe the tears away, “I tried to tell Jonathan but he looked at me like I was crazy.”

A beat passed before he said anything, “Did you tell anyone, like the cops?”

My head shot up to him, “If I told them that I think they would take me away,” pushing myself off of the bed, “cause it sounds crazy.”

I began to walk around my room unsure of what to do, Dustin taking my spot on my bed. “You’re not crazy Viv.” Dustin tried reassuring me, “The odds of having the same dream over and over for…” he trailed off when he saw my eyes looking unimpressed, “its zero.” I rolled my eyes as he said the odds moving around once more, “Maybe clairvoyant.” His voice was low as he was talking to himself.

I toss my hands up in the air, “Dust really?”

“I said that out loud?” His eyes big as he looked at me; my head nodded vigorously my lips tight. “Maybe you are I mean you always know where things are.” He said matter a factly.

“Just because I know where to put your things Dustin doesn’t mean anything.” I try to point out.

He jumped up to his feet, “Maybe we can find someone that can do the same thing,” it was like he had an eureka idea, “they can help you.”

I thought my head back looking at my ceiling, “Dust I love you,” looking back at him, “and I know your trying to help.” I moved to get out of my room, “The odds of finding someone with ‘powers’,” my finger doing air quotes as I turn to him, “are the same odds as having the same dream for months.”

“Technically,” he began with a smile on his face, “it’s now one cause you know.” He held the book out, “So yeah one in a million.” He was so proud of himself for that one.

I let out a sigh knowing full well that he was right, “Fine the odds are one.” He all most jumped for joy, “But that doesn’t mean that someone with powers is going to fall into our laps.”

I waited for dramatic effect and nothing, just as Dustin went to say something the front door open causing to two of us to jump. There in the door was just our mom coming home from work. The evening soon went into mom comforting Dustin and us making dinner. Dustin soon went into his room and mom began to watch M*A*S*H as I was doing the dishes listening to the shenanigans of Hawkeye and Hunnictt.

“Psst.” I looked over my shoulder to see Dustin waving me down. I look over seeing mom still watching the TV. I slowly walked over to him and we walked to his room as he closed the door, “I need your help getting out.”

This caused me to cross my arms, “You know you can’t, mom will freak if she founds out you’re gone.” I tried to keep my voice low.

“Come on,” he was on his knees bagging, “I’ll to the dishes for a week.” I stayed unmoving looking at him, “A month.” He tried again.

I placed my hand out for him to take helping him up, “Where you going?”

The looked up me with hew found hope, “Im going to meet Mike.” I was about to open my mouth in protest, “We are going to see if we can pick up a trail.”

I stood there looking him over, “Fine,” his fist pumping as I said this, “but I’m coming.” He was about to argue with me, “Dust if my dream was a ‘vision’,” using my fingers to quote, “then I’m going with you do make sure you all are safe.” Compassion and concern pouring out in my words, “I don’t know what I would do if I lost you.” Light tears trickled from my eyes. Wiping the tears away, “I’ll distract mom, go out my window and wait by my car.” As I walked out of the room.

I can’t believe I’m doing this, “Mom.” I called out walking into the living room, “Can I ask you something.” She was unmoving from her spot and just nodded her head, “Can I get a pet?”

I don’t think Ive seen her head move so fast, “A pet?” Myself nodding keeping my eyes on her, “Sweetie we have Mews…”

“But Dustin has Yurtle the Turtle and I would really like to have a pet of my own.” I could see Dustin sticking to the wall like he was some kind of agent as he walks into my room. “Just think about mom.” Just before I walk away, “Mom I love you.” Giving mom a big smile as I walk into my room and close the door and lock it. Soon I was walking next to my brother, “Thanks.” As he gives me my bike.

We biked for a few minutes before seeing Lucas in the distance, “Really.” He whispered as we got closer.

“Yes really.” I whispered back, “If anything ever happened to any of you and I could of done something I would never forgive myself.” Dustin looking at me sadly, “Lets go.” I pushed off and peddled ahead of them.

The two of them seemed to take it as a race as they passed me chatting with one and other. At least I can keep my eyes on them. It didn’t take much time till we came across Mike.

“What happened to ten minutes?” Mike questioned his friends.

Lucas spoke first, “Parents were watching M*A*S*H. No way past.”

Dustin’s voice filled the air, “Same..” As I rolled up on them, Mike looked at Dustin with big eyes.

“It was this or nothing.” I let Mike know with a sad smile.

Mike passed a walkie to me, “Stay on channel six just in case, but no splitting up or anything stupid like that.” He told the group the gist of the plan, Dustin nodded in understanding as Mike climbed on his bike.

“Where are we going?” Lucas called out.

“Mirkwood.” Both Mike and I say at the same time, Dustin looked from me to Lucas.

I pedalled fast to get to the planned search area, hearing my brother and Lucas try to catch up from behind. Riding along with Mike it didn’t take long before he broke the silence, “How did you know?”

I looked over at Mike, “Call it intuition.” I shrug it off, I don’t know why I said it, I just did. How can you just explain that to a kid.

We then came to a point at the woods that was blocked off; the darkness of the woods looming ahead. I was already off my bicycle tossing it to the ground, “Guys feel that,” my brothers tired voice filled the air, “I think maybe we should go back.” I stopped just pass the barricade as the rumble of thunder passed above. Mike looked from me to his friends talking with them and soon they fallowed.

The rain began to fall walking into the dark woods Dustin and I still not willing to bring up my dreams. The boys started to yell out Wills name, as I push on ahead of them scanning the trees. Dustin was even trying to yell out about the comic Will won with their race. Soon that turned in them yelling at one another about going back.

“Why are we even here?” Lucas questioned, “My mom says there’s a whole search party…”

Mike cut him off, “But they don’t know Will,” I could tell he was upset by his tone, “and he doesn’t know them. He knows us.”

“Do you ever think,” Dustin began, “that maybe Will was taken by something bad and we are going that way…”

I turned, “Stop it!” I shouted at the group before Dustin could say anything more, “All of you!” Giving my brother a pointed look, “We are going to find Will,” looking over at the other two, “One way or another.”

There was just the sound of rain fall around us as the boys looked at me with big doe eyes; the sound of movement caused us to turn.

“You hear that right?” Mikes spoke softly, as more movement could be heard around us.

As we turned once more there was a small figure in a yellow Fish ‘N Fry shirt being illuminated with our lights. A shaved head of hair and eye wide - Ive seen her in one of my dreams but that was years ago. She was looking at Mike holding his gaze, I looked at Dustin, he returned my gaze.. by my expression he could tell that I recognized the child - the girl from my dreams. With my eyes I try to tell him not to say anything.

I took off my coat and walked over to her slowly as her head whipped around to look at me; I placed my coat on her shoulders as she looked deep into me eyes as if she knew. “Will you come with us?” She nodded looking back at the boys, “We will keep you safe,” I raised my right hand making a fist with my pinky out, “I pinky promise.” I gave her a bright smile.

Mike spoke from behind me, “She never breaks a promise.” Assuring the girl, as she looked on in confusion.

“Place you finger in mine.” My voice no higher then a whisper to her, “Mike’s right I never break a promise.” She slowly raised her hand placing her pinky in mine. With that little touch I saw so much of her life from being a baby to now it was like I was fast forwarding a tape to get to the end. When she let go her eyes were wide with astonishment, the next thing I now she was hugging me and I her. “It’s ok I got you,” I whispered softly to her, “I got you.”

She pulled away form me, “Vivian?” Mike asked looking at what just happened confused.

“We need to get her someplace safe,” I looked at Mike, “and out of this rain.” Looking back at the girl as we began to walk back to the bikes, with Dustin and his friends falling behind.

“So to the police?” Dustin asked, I could feel his eyes on me as we walked through the mud.

The cold girl tensed at that, “Nope.” As I popped out the ‘P’, “Only one place that comes to mind.”

Thankfully Mike seemed to know what I was talking about, “My house.” Nodding my head not looking back, “We have the basement and Mom only goes down there for laundry.”

Don’t get me wrong I like Mike’s mom but sometimes she doesn’t see what’s happening in her own home, making Mike’s house the perfect hiding spot

#eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x henderson!reader #stranger things x henderson!reader #stranger things

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sardoniqueen101 · 5 months

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Saran Orquina

Mephistopheles Tiefling, Draconic Sorcerer, Folk Hero Background

Background:

Saran was born to a silver dragon woman and tiefling man, hence her Draconic ancestry. She spent her first years in Baldur’s Gate, growing up on tales of heroes who saved cities and being taught the value of the good you can do for others. Her parents loved the city, as it was where they met but when Saran was 8 they decided they wanted to travel and help the common people. It wasn’t long after until Saran was allowed too occasionally fight alongside them, something her mother was never keen on. However, raising a child with Draconic magic coursing through their veins leads to a need to train that magic as soon as possible, and fighting was a great teacher.

Life was good, except the occasional assholes who treated Saran and her father like garbage. “Devils!” they shouted. Her parents did her best to shield her, but they couldn’t protect her from everything. One of the times they settled in a small town for a few months, Saran met a human boy whom she grew fond of. He was brave, and defended her from a few of the boys who called her derogatory names. Alas, she learned that not all those who act heroic have heroic intentions.

“Why do you hang out with the demon? Aren’t you afraid she’ll curse you or something?”

“Nah, my parents say hellspawn are good at magic, so that’s why we should avoid them. But she can’t even cast a decent fireball. Just wanted to see if the stories were true, hellspawn are weak, no where near as frightening at they ought to be.”

When she told her parents, her dad had a talk with her about the plights of their people. Saran asked why her father bothered to help people if all he got in return were harmful words and hurtful actions.

“Little love, I don’t do kind things because I expect kind things in return. If one person is helped by my actions, then I’ve helped one person. That is one small, positive change I made in the world, and I’m content with that.”

Unfortunately strife followed the family. Saran’s mother disappeared not long after her 13th birthday, no note or anything out of the ordinary. Her father was devastated, although he did his best to provide for Saran on his own. A proper magical education was out of reach, and all he had were the books her mother left behind. Adventuring became strenuous, the stress taking a dangerous toll on her father. Saran started taking jobs solo to help provide for her and her father, but it never seemed enough. Helping common people didn’t exactly lend itself to riches, and doing good things wasn’t making her father’s health better. At 16, her father died, her hands held in his, him apologizing that he couldn’t see her grow up, and reminding her to choose good, even when it wasn’t rewarding.

Saran wandered for a while afterward. She kept everything her parents left her, although she didn’t use her parents books as the memories were too painful. She was angry at her parents for abandoning her, but still wanted to make them proud. A couple years after her father’s passing, she decided to study an ancestral book that belonged to her mother. To her surprise, there was a magic infused note written in Draconic.

“Saran, if you’re reading this note, I was called away from you. I am so sorry, to you and your father. I never meant to hurt either of you, and one day, when I find my way back to you, or if you find me, I’ll explain everything. I love you.”

She recognized the handwriting immediately belongs to her mother, in her native tongue. Determined to find her, Saran set out on a new journey. However, people still need help, and despite wanting to find her mother, she still puts the needs of the common people first. Ten years after her father’s passing, she made her way back to Baldur’s Gate, hoping that the place of her birth may yield some answers.

Unfortunately, being kidnapped by a mindflayer ship has set that goal to the side for now, and now she’s on her biggest adventure yet, saving the world.

#bg3 tav #oc tav #bg3 oc #baldur's gate 3 #bg3

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roll-britannia · 1 year

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#IFTTT #Roll Britannia

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spainkitty · 1 year

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Blasted Halla and Drunk Lavellan

Lanil's Pieces Masterlist

Her blood was still boiling as she stomped down the stairs. Blasted halla. Blasted halla. How dare he? The halla were sacred! The request from the Hawen clan had been moving and earnest! And he called it a blasted halla. She wanted to punch him in the face. Normally, her initial knee-jerk reaction was fireballs. Or lightning bolts. But no. She was going to physically shake him like a ragdoll and punch him.

So what she had gone behind Fairbanks' back and his noble birth was exposed? So what he'd explicitly asked her not to? He had a duty. They all had a duty. Of every Orlesian silkbiter she'd met, he was the only decent one. Of course she'd want him as both agent and ally! He'd already been doing a noble's job better than any of them. Clara hadn't been some misty-eyed girlish dreamer, she'd been absolutely right. And Lavellan had been right, too.

Cullen and his blasted sense of privacy could go dunk their head in a horse trough. Where had her privacy gone? Where had her choices and her life gone? She didn't get a pass, why should Fairbanks, who was arguably a better person than her anyway?

She steamed and glowered and stomped towards the main gate. There were trees out there. She would find one and sulk under it in peace.

"Hey, boss! Boss!"

Lavellan forced her feet to stop, turning towards the Iron Bull with a very forced and pained smile on her face. Iron Bull, she liked. Iron Bull hadn't called it a blasted halla.

"Yes, Bull?"

"We took down two dragons, and lived to tell the tale. We have to celebrate!" He approached her, completely ignored whatever 'fuck off' vibes she might’ve been throwing off, and cuffed her around the neck. "You look like you need it. What's with the face?"

"War table," she bit out.

"Politics shit," Iron Bull said wisely with a nod. "You definitely need this. Come on, meet the boys while they're all here. Have a drink, have ten!" He laughed heartily and steered her towards the tavern.

It was either walk or be dragged like a toy, and Lavellan hated feeling small. Plus... drinking. She liked wine. Briefly, she thought of that night long ago, her and Varric and Solas, drinking wine and laughing. Toasting to 'whatever friendship means'.

Yeah, that wouldn't be so bad. Better than sulking in the snow by a long run.

"I have to leave at first light for a mission, but... I wouldn't mind a few drinks. Or meeting all the Chargers," Lavellan said, sloughing off a little of the rage as the Iron Bull opened the door.

"That's the spirit, boss," Iron Bull guffawed, slapping her on the back so hard she stumbled into the tavern and barely managed to catch herself.

...

Lavellan stumbled through the empty main hall, weaving unsteadily. She felt so much better. She barely remembered why she was angry earlier. Her face hurt... oh, she was still grinning. But other than that, she was basically flying.

Or spinning.

Dizzy.

Lavellan wobbled, grabbed at a chair, and breathed raggedly. She hiccuped. Giggles bubbled out of her, more and more, giggles like bubbles. She shoved a fist in her mouth because she had to be quiet. It was really dark, so people would be sleeping, and she couldn't wake them up.

Cullen probably wasn't sleeping. Stupid insufferable bastard never slept. She should tell him to sleep. And that he was insufferable.

Also, she wasn't angry anymore. She was kinda sorry about Farbates. Fairdates.

Lavellen scowled at the wall.

Fairbanks! Fairbanks deserved his privacy. Cullen was right. She was right, too, but so was Cullen. She should say sorry. And make him say sorry. Then, they could be friends again.

She liked it when Cullen smiled at her. It wasn't fair that he was so mad at her. She didn't like that, so she got madder at him. She had to explain that to him. It was very important he know.

She nodded to herself and almost toppled over, but luckily she was smart and was still holding onto the chair. Slowly, carefully, like walking on a tightrope, she headed towards the door near the fireplace. One foot in front of the other. When she very intelligently figured out walking again, she picked up the pace. Already eager to see Cullen and make him laugh again. She walked into the first room, blinking at how dark it suddenly was. No fire. Only the faint blue and disturbing hum of the skull shard on the table.

Solas' room.

Right. To get to Cullen, she had to go through Solas' room. She better be careful. Solas liked sleeping. She shuffled across the floor, cringing, holding her breath. She could do it. It was only a few feet away--

Her shoulder banged the scaffold in his room and she cussed virulently. A light so bright it instantly blinded her filled the room and she fell to her ass with another grumbled curse.

"Who is--Lavellan?"

Lavellan shaded her eyes and gazed around. Finally, she found him peering over the scaffold's platform at her.

"You sleep up there!?" she blurted.

"Why are you in my room in the middle of the night?" Solas asked, sighing and rubbing his temple. The light faded and he set down the staff.

"I didn't mean to, but Cullen's that way," Lavellan said, scowling. "I have to apologize."

"You have to apologize to Commander Cullen in the middle of the night."

Lavellan nodded, and tipped over sideways. She barely managed to right herself, and looked at her feet with a frown. "I don't know if I remember how to get up."

"Lavellan, are you drunk?"

"It's not my fault. Iron Bull was drinking, and I couldn't let him drink more than me. That stuff is awful, though. Don't drink... uh... that stuff. It's bad."

Solas murmured something in elvish she couldn't catch, but she smiled dopily up at him.

"Your elvish is prettier than mine. I should practice so I can be as pretty as you."

"Oh, da'len, you are a mess. Must you do everything in excess?" He was climbing down now and Lavellan frowned.

"What you doing? Go to sleep. You like sleeping."

"I'm afraid tonight I have more important matters to attend to," Solas said. He knelt next to her and slipped an arm around her waist, wrapped her arm around his neck. "I'll help you figure out standing."

"No. Go to bed."

"You can't give me orders now. You can't even keep your eyes focused."

"I am very focused and I'm the... Quizanater. Go to bed."

He merely chuckled and hoisted her up. She grumbled and scowled, but it really helped finding her feet leaning on him.

"Even drunk, you're a force of nature. What will it take to break that, I still cannot help but wonder," Solas murmured, chuckling.

"I don't wanna be broken. I like being strong. If I don't feel strong, I gotta pretend. But don't tell anyone I'm pretending, promise, Solas?"

"Yes, lethallan, I promise. Let's hurry now. You need sleep."

"You need sleep," she muttered mulishly. She balked when she realized he had turned them around. "No, Cullen's thattaway."

"We are not going to bother the Commander now."

"But I have to apologize! I was mean to him."

"You're rather mean to a lot of people."

"I am?" she asked it quietly, head bowed. "I am. I'm sorry."

"I need no apology."

She glanced up at him, leaning close and holding tight around his neck. He was sort of blurry, and the room was spinning. But he looked sad. Gazing at her like... like he had on the balcony. When he said the words that scared her.

"I am mean. I couldn't say it back. I wanted to, you know? I really did. I've never met anyone like you, Solas."

"Lethallan, you don't have a memory older than eight months," he reminded her gently.

"Oh. Well, I'm still right."

He chuckled. "You are right, and you were right then. Romance is not an option for us, though I forgot for a moment. It's exceedingly difficult to remember some days."

"It's suseedingly difficult to amember every day."

"Yes. That proves it's time to get you to bed. Let's go."

Lavellan gave in with a sigh. Bed did sound nice. And it was getting harder to keep her eyes open. She didn't normally stay up so late. She stumbled a bit, hitting a chair when they reached the main hall, and Solas had to wrap both arms around her. She was suddenly so close, and he smelled like wine and parchment and brisk winter wind. She nuzzled closer, humming contentedly.

"S'good. Les's stay here."

"At least you're compliant. And light."

"Not small. You're small."

It took a lot of Solas prodding at her, and half-dragging her, but they got up to her room at last. She sat on her bed, blinking owlishly, while Solas brought a bucket towards the bed, and then poured water from the ewer on the bedside table into a cup.

"Drink."

"I'm already drunk." She pushed his hand and the cup away.

"I am very glad this was not my first impression of you. You are ridiculous. Drink the water."

"Oh." She gulped it down thirstily. "Thank you."

"Good." His hand touched her hair and she leaned up into it. "I should go."

"No, stay," Lavellan grabbed his sleeve. "It's so empty. I hate it. I hate it."

"Lethallan--"

"Please, Solas?"

He slowly knelt in front of her, taking her hand in his. "And so she says please."

She nodded, lips pressed tightly together, glaring down at their hands. She wouldn't say it again. In her alcohol-hazed mind, there was already a sliver of shame worming its way in.

"All right. I am worried about when you wake up," he said, sighing.

Hurriedly, before he changed his mind or the shame took stronger root, she kicked off her boots and crawled into the bed. He slipped in after her and she eagerly snuggled closer, burying her nose against the crook of his shoulder. She sighed, contented and happy. His touches were always so comfortable. The kissing had made it complicated, had taken away her easy enjoyment of it, but now it was back. Solas was back.

"Ma serannas, falon," she murmured, rubbing her cheek against his shoulder.

She was already deep in a dream, the Fade pulling her in like an anchor dropping into the sea, when his hand touched her hair. Brushed a strand away from her brow. Gently covered her vallaslin with his palm.

"I must remember, ma vhenan, but you make it so difficult."

Part II

#Lanil's Pieces #Look this awkward love triangle is SOLAS' fault #I FRIENDED him and he kept kissing Lanil in the second playthru #i have posts of me going nuts over EHAT THE FUCK is happening #i glitched myself into a love triangle and i added some of that here even though i DID NOT originally plan that #dai lavellan #kitty writes a thing #oops love triangle #and yes it's written in a way where the reader SHOULD want them together #in fact they seemed destined for each other #and they both say NO repeatedly #muahahhahahaha #suffer with me #dai fanfic

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lightdancer1 · 2 years

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Among African states of early modern times the Oyo Empire is one of the most unusual

It remained a proudly polytheistic society rooted in traditional African religion and culture. The Yoruba religion is one of the longest-lived fully intact polytheistic traditions in the world. It is the founding influence on Voudoun, Candomble, and Santeria, as well as other elements of the African Diaspora. In surviving as a proudly polytheistic culture and state that was both densely urbanized and itself the inheritor of a very long tradition going back to the Nok culture, the Yoruba and their kingdom bucked the rival influences of Islam and Christianity until the rise of modern industrial armies with machine guns.

The Yoruba also point to a vast gulf between the racist stereotypes of 'traditional African culture' and note that there was nothing stopping an African polytheistic society from inheriting an ancient tradition of urbanization and indeed being one of the most distinctly urbanized cultures in Africa in general and Sahelian Africa in particular into the present.

Another good example of Eurocentric blinders is that in the history of influential traditions the Yoruba religion rivals the Abrahamic ones for geographic spread and the sheer diversity of cultures affected by it a a marker of where Yoruba people were dragged into the hellbound ships of the Middle Passage. It is a grim narrative, but it is also a narrative of cultural survival and defiance and how the very worst things cannot overbear or crush human nature.

#lightdancer comments on history #against eurocentrism #oyo empire #yoruba history #yoruba culture #the dragon and the fireball and other tales

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yandere-wishes · 3 years

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A Story Told In Maybes {Part #1}

🗡️Yandere! Enma Yuuken x reader

🗡️Summary: Enma Yuuken lives on the fine line between "Hero" and "Villain" but his story will never end in a "happily ever after" or a "tragically ever after" it will only end in Maybe...

🗡 Edited by the amazing @tealyjade-libran

🗡️ Alternative title: How many times can Genie use "Damn" in a story...

Maybe in some other world, they could have been lovers

Imagine that...

picture it as vividly as a fresh stab wound to your heart. Sketch the vision of a red waterfall carrying away your life.

Now picture two people. A young man and woman, sitting on a park bench, holding hands and laughing, inching closer and closer.

Imagine love, happiness, tranquility...

But those things only exist in fairy tales. And his life was most certainly not a fairy tale.

They were foreigners, outsiders, aliens. Banished into a strange land were twisted fairy tales, roamed the earth. Where magic and mischief came as naturally to the inhabitants as breathing. Where nothing mattered, because nothing was. Everything is and thus it isn't. Nothing made sense, and sometimes, in some rare moments of stolen repose, Enma Yuuken was scared that nothing would ever make sense again.

All of it, every microscopic thing about this 'new world' was wrong, abnormal, twisted.

Everything except his traveling companion. Another lost soul as disjointed and out of place as he was. Another ghost trying to survive in this matrix of a so-called reality.

There was no shock initially, no surprise in not being the only normal creature to be transported to this bizarre world. Enma knew full well that he wasn't special in any way. Another foreigner being here was one of the few things that actually made sense.

But as the old expression goes, everything comes at a price.

Someone else just like him being here, being stuck in this nightmare, made sense. Yet the price of logic was a thread of hysteria that had woven itself deep within his battered heart. A maddening sense that gripped his lungs, robbing them of breath. That picked off pieces from his tattered mind, replacing them with clear cutout thoughts of her. It was always only her.

His companion in this broken world just had to be you. A frail, naïve little girl with no sense about her. Some pretty-girl protagonist straight out of the pages of Shojo Beats. The kind of girl who finds her happily ever after no matter where the hell she is.

Yet he did not have that luxury, his life was dictated by a series of maybes and could bes. He was a secondary character at best, a background shadow at worst. With no purpose other than smiling and waving. And listening to the protagonist weep about their love-driven woes.

Some days, when the dreary bell chimed for the last time, when the students marched back to the solitude of their dorms, Enma would wander around the halls, squirming in his own misery. Pondering why, oh why of all the people, in all the towns, in all the worlds, did you have to be the one to wind up in this grim land along with him.

Why fate always had to be so cruel, so domineering, thinking it knew better than the people whose miserable lives it toyed with. He wanted to be your lover, your prince, yours. But what would a guy, who doesn’t even belong in this backward world, have to offer some heroine-type sweetheart?

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

The Ramshackle’s flickering porch light glows in the distance. Like a dying star beckoning him to a destroyed paradise. He knows what's waiting for him behind the worn door. He knows you'll be there standing by the cracked dinner table, laying out days-old sandwiches for dinner, while Grimm rangles with an expired can of tuna. He knows you'll smile with tears in your doe-like eyes as you retell the fables of your endeavors. Telling him in great detail how the so-called king of beasts overpowered you in the school garden. How the King of poisons stole yet another kiss. The tales go on and on. Never-ending, never stopping, never giving him the chance to scavenge the fragments of his shattered heart.

You play your role so damn well. You know how to be the damsel in distress, the poor thing in need of saving. It's repulsive, disgusting...but only because he doesn't know how to be the hero that you need.

If he was being honest -something he rarely did nowadays- Those "prefects" were the root of all his problems. They were the evil that made this dark world an endless horror. They'd been the ones to drive him into the "caring older brother" role. They had twisted his hand, leading him to the role of the "side-hero" like a lamb to the slaughter. Made him into a prince charming in a world that ate princes alive and spat them out once more.

They had sealed his fate with a few insults and loaded threats. With just a few longing stares overflowing with lust and envy. They were villains, in a world that celebrated sinners. A world that cheered when the dragon steals the princess and rejoices when the evil king sits upon his skeleton throne. They were villains in every dreadful sense of the damn word.

It's hard to be in love when all odds are against you.

When your fate binds you into one role with no way out.

Like a rabbit hole made of quicksand. It dragged him deeper and deeper into intimate madness.

Maybe in some fair world, those leeching villains could keep their greedy blood-drenched hands off of you.

Maybe in a world where the sun never dies, you could bring yourself to love him.

Maybe he could have been the love interest, maybe, maybe, maybe.

It's always only MAYBE!

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

"Welcome home Nii-san,"

It's a sweet greeting that ties his guts into ribbons. His hands grow damp as his heavy eyes stare into yours. His lips curl into a painted smile, shielding you from the pain that's clawing in his stomach.

"Hi..(Y/n)"

His voice cracks and croaks like a dying frog. His lips feel abnormally dry and his eyes sting as if they've been pierced by diamond daggers. His steps are heavy as he plops down in his seat. The weight of his worries pulled him down harder than gravity ever could. He watches you through tried, restless orbs. Watches as you waltz over to your seat and sit down with the half grace of some future queen to be. It's bitter, dreadful, leaving a sickly toxin-like taste in his mouth. The mere thought that someday one of those, sinners, will take your hand and drag you to some kingdom far far away makes Enma want to claw his brain out with his bare nails.

Enma's focus shifts over from his traveling companion to the silver-coated fireball licking his paws. Grimm's teal eyes scan him nervously before he offers a nervous smile, a rarity for the narcissistic cat. He's usually so talkative, so boasting, there was never a moment of tranquility with that cat around...

It takes a moment. A steel coated moment before the gears in Enma's head begin to turn. Before he can place his finger on the heavy abnormality weighing down the atmosphere. His nerves jolt to life, leaving a freezing sweat behind their trail. The room is spinning like a ballroom floor. Something's off, something big and obvious and hidden and...

Maybe...

"So..."

It's your sweet voice that breaks the tension creeping into the air. Melodic and luscious just like the sensation of a blissful dream. The room freezes in its tracks. The heavy atmosphere melts away like a cube of ice. Normality has one foot through the door. Behind it, hope and tranquility peek their heads through the tiny gap.

Maybe just maybe everything is alright. Maybe it's just him, his stress and anxiety are starting to play cruel jokes on his wonder mind. Maybe he's just going mad. Yeah, that's the sanest conclusion to draw from all this.

Enma cranes his neck to the side to get a better view of your face. Distress is scribbled all over your skin, like pristine razor cuts. You shift around in your seat, clawing at your uniform skirt as if the midnight black fabric is cutting off your circulation. Your fingers nudge the entrance to your pocket fiddling with something he can't quite make out.

His voice is low, shaky, as he replies. The unusualness of the situation has him on edge. Nervous to the bitter bone. Maybe he was wrong, maybe his nerves were right to be wary of whatever this was. This uncertainty permeated the air-tight room.

"What is it?"

Slowly you drag out a white envelope flooded seven times over from your pocket. You stretch out your hand placing it in between his fingers. Enma throws a passive look at the note, his nose wrinkled up at the familiar scent that pervaded from the paper.

"What's this?"

It was rhetorical, asked out of dull, morbid courtesy. This time he didn't bother looking at you, in fear of seeing you look -lord forbids- gleeful.

"A love letter, Grimm found it in our locker after class."

There was a pause, lengthy, nerve-wracking, heart wrenching. Yuuken could hear the way your breath hitched in your throat, he could almost feel the excitement radiate off your body.

"Can you believe it Nii-san? Someone actually left me a love letter!"

It hurt it really did, this time his heart didn't shatter. It simply broke, in two or three or maybe four. Who knows, who cares. They had escalated from simple harassment and unsightly displays of public affection to leaving you love letters. How ungodly, how absurd, how brave...

He laments, eyes tracing over the fog of his breath as it wafts through the musty room. He wants to rip that damned piece of paper, shred it into millions so the words become ineligible, so you'll never read those horrible words again. So you'll forget that some damn fool other than him can actually love you. But he doesn't, he has too much self restraint and too much respect for his dear "little sister" to actually do it.

His arm stretches over the table, skin illuminated by the dying candle on the center. He places the letter back safely in between your fingers. His eyes meet yours for only the second time that night. He takes in your face, Committing every piece of it to his miserable memory. The heartily glow in your crystal eyes, the faint schoolgirl smile dancing across your lips, the rose blush kissing your cheeks, the way the candle illuminates your skin, wrapping in a sparkling glow like the princess from those tales of old. You're mesmerizing in every way, it would be reasonable for other men to notice your elegance. No wonder those "prefects" were drawn to you so naturally like moths to a golden flame.

"Who sent it?"

His voice comes out like a block of ice, shielding away any and all his stray emotions. He doesn't want to know how doleful he is, he just can't have you taking pity on him.

Your smile fades ever so slightly, your brows draw closer. Confusion is etched on your face. You haven't got a clue.

"Well...I'm not sure, but they did say to meet them at the school gates when the clock chimes twelve."

Oh, joy, another fairy tale reference. It's comedic how fairy tales have begun to dictate his life. Everywhere he turns there's a grim tale awaiting him. Yuuken spares a quick glance at the crooked clock hanging by a loose thread. It’s a minute to midnight.

"I should come with you"

It's not a request but you take it as so.

"No need to bother, I'll take Grimm, he could use the walk. He's starting to bulk up a bit"

"HEY! The great Grimm-Sama doesn't "Bulk up" He only gets more powerful!"

Before the older male can protest, you're already halfway out the door. Grimm scurrying to follow you on all fours like a pesky rat. The door slams on your way out, leaving Yuuken alone with his morbid screeching thoughts.

There goes the only good thing in his life. Into the arms of another.

For a second he contemplates leaving you to fate, after all, who's he to disobey fate, go against whoever orchestrates this universe. But it's only a second, short lived and quickly died.

Maybe he's a hero.

Maybe he's a Prince Charming.

Maybe he's a villain.

Maybe he's just some honorary older brother looking out for his kid sister.

Maybe, just maybe, he's your future lover;

and he'll be damned if he lets you slip out of hands.

Enma's quick to grab his old practice blade from the overstuffed closet. It's not much, but it's all he has from the normal world, from his world.

The door grates for the last time that night as he steps out into the cold midnight air. The stars blink in some sort of secret tongue, either warning him or encouraging him, he doesn't know. Nor does he truly care, for Enma Yuuken is done letting life and fate and villains decree his meaningless life. Here and now that's where he'll make his stand, he'll save you. Kiss you. Love you. Marry you. You, You, YOU

But there's still one nagging thought that screams inside his head as he dashes for the school gates. This world worships villains, prays at their feet, and hands them death and destruction on golden plates. And he's no villains, he's some sort of upside-down, in-between. Rotting alone in the border between Hero and Villain. By law of society, he's a reject, a useless foreigner, an alien, an outsider.

and MAYBE he's already too late...

Who wrote the love letter? Was it the head of the savanaclaw dorm or maybe the head of the heartslabyul dorm ? Maybe it’s the ever mysterious Tsunotarou...

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