#I ALSO FOUND MY ITEM THAT I CARRY IN MY POCKET AT ALL TIMES

[smartichokes]

i cleaned 1 section of my room 😌

[norman-fucking-reedus]

Okaay we’ve talked about Daryl with his daughter but lets talk about your pregnancy for a second..

I can imagine Daryl coming back late in the night, so tired and sore from a long day of work. You had only found out a few hours prior, and seeing the physical ache in his body you knew he could use some hopefully very good news.

“Hi there hunterman” You whispered, sliding his crossbow off his shoulders as he kicked his muddy boots off.

Daryl dropped his head down onto your shoulder, sighing heavily. “Hi”

A moment a silence passed, you simply combing your fingers through Daryl’s hair before gently guiding him to raise his head, eyes meeting yours.

“I have something to tell you” Daryl raised a brow, hands settling st your waist. “Not dyin’ are ya?” You giggled, shaking your head

Reaching for your back pocket, you pulled the test out and handed it to him, watching as he took it between his fingers with a confused gaze, which quickly turned into excitement.

“No way”

“Yes way. We’re gonna have a little Dixon”

Daryl wrapped his arms tightly around you, smile resting on his face until it slowly disappear, a set of tears following suit. He sniffled softly, and you raised your hands up to wipe his falling tears. “It’s okay, big guy.”

“Wha’ if m’not a good dad?” He whispered, and you rolled your eyes at him. “I wouldn’t have picked you if I didn’t think you’d be a perfect dad” You wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him passionately as his arm circled your waist, a hand sliding up your shirt and caressing the skin.

When you start to go through hormone changes and start forming a bump, Daryl becomes super protective of you. Much so to the point that it annoys you but he doesn’t care, he’ll literally die before someone lays a finger on his woman.

He strictly forbids you from leaving the walls, telling everyone on watch duty to not let you out no matter how much you yell, which in fact, yelled at them a lot. He also refused to let you carry anything that looked just a hair too heavy.

“Nope. Nah. Give ‘ere girl.”

“I can carry it, Dixon”

“I’on care, give it ta me”

He’ll forcibly take the item out your hand, because simply how dare you have to even lift a finger with that baby inside you.

I also honestly feel like Daryl would be really scared to have sex during your pregnancy. Now if its pleasure that you want, Daryl has no probably eating you out till your eyes are rolling and his jaw is cramping.

“I dun’ wanna hurt tha baby”

“Hurt them how?”

“..With m’dick??”

I think about the scene from Big Mouth when Jay fucks his pillow and screams “My dick is right next to the baby’s head” That’s all i’m gonna say about that

Daryl makes sure to give you half of his food, and you don’t have a choice but to take it. (Unless the baby says otherwise) He purposely hunts extra food for that you can have more to eat, especially the further you get along.

By the time you’re about seven months and very undoubtedly pregnant, Daryl would murder anyone in cold blood if they even looked at you wrong.

Although you were crabby and yelled a lot, he was at your complete beck and call. Daryl could only loving stare at you when you complained over something, thinking about how gorgeous you were and how lucky he was that you were the mother of his child.

“Nothing fits right anymore! My shoes don’t even fit”

“Ya don’ need yer shoes if ya never leave”

“I never leave ‘cause you keep me locked here like a fucking prisoner”

“M’keepin my pretty girls safe”

Lots of his clothes have been sacrificed considering you’re literally busting out of yours, and something predatory washes over him seeing your belly prutrude through his shirts.

Birth is definitely hard and Daryl definitely passed out once or twice, but being the man he is he forced himself to pull through for you, and the scars from your nails dragging down his flesh will be a fond memory followed by the sweet sound of loud crying.

You know how much Daryl loves kids, and you’re exhausted from all the pushing, so it only makes sense that he gets first hold. You watch with a small smile as Siddiq guides Daryl to take his shirt off, watching the burly man nervously but eagerly (and carefully) take his newborn into his large hands.

In that moment, cradling his very own precious babygirl, it felt like you were the only three people on earth. Daryl couldn’t take his eyes off the wiggling bundle of life in his arms, rocking slowly in the chair as he burned the image of her tiny little face into his mind.

As you stared at him, you couldn’t help but think about how you really did pick the perfect dad. Daryl Dixon, a hard, strong, intimidating man fear by many, who was now sitting softly, gently and quietly with his daughter laying ontop his bare chest, a large hand keeping her secured. Already a major daddys girl.

The baby stage is easily Daryl’s favorite, and he definitely gets up in the middle of the night when she starts crying or fussing.

I don’t think he’d put her down for a second, like you just won’t see Daryl without her hooked around his arm. He doesn’t bring her into the garage during bike repairs until shes older, not wanting to let his baby inhale toxic bike fumes.

Dog is her protector. Most dogs understand what babies are and how vulnerable to the world they are, so Daryl definitely trains Dog to stay by her side when he can’t be. Instead of sleeping on the couch Dog now sleeps right outside her crib.

On the one occasion when a group a raiders had started searching houses, yours having been one of the first, one of the men made the mistake of opening her door, Dog jumping swiftly into protective mode and clamping his canines into the mans leg.

When it comes to breastfeeding, I can imagine the extra lengths Daryl would go. He makes sure you have enough food and nutrients to produce, and totally massages your boobs when you complain about the soreness.

When she’s big enough to start wearing clothes rather than onesies, Daryl definitely finds lots of super cute girly stuff for her because well only the best for his girls. He spoils her totally rotten.

Maybe not completely, but y’know. Her first words end up being an adorably butchered version of Daryl’s name, one that makes him wanna cry and scream cause his daughters first words were his own name.

“Baryl!”

“Ohh good jobs mommas baby! That’s daddys name!”

“She- said- she said- she just- she”

“It’s okay, Baryl we all heard it”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★

[lazywitchling]

[This is a fictionalized account of something that was communicated between myself and J, my familiar spirit. For storytelling / convenience / communication's sake, I will write it out as a conversation with words as if he were a person standing next to me, but the reality of it was less tangible and more... woo-woo. While dialog is fictional, the message that was communicated is accurate.]

--

I had my recently purchased copper pendulum in the pocket of my work jacket, and was fiddling with it in stolen moments in between stocking the walk-in cooler. I wasn't divining with it, just playing with it like a fidget toy. I had a theory about the conductivity of copper being good for communication with spirits, and judging by how apparent J was making himself, the theory was pretty sound.

"Some materials are easier for me to touch than others," he said. "Metal, stones, sticks, feathers, seeds..."

"Natural materials," I summarized.

"Sort of, but not always." It didn't exactly explain much, and my confusion was evident. So J continued with an explanation. "Show me what's in your pockets."

I pulled out two of my pocket trinkets, knowing which ones he meant. In one pocket, a small potato that had fallen onto the deli floor. A good thing to have on me to absorb unwanted 'bad vibes', of which there were many in retail. In the other pocket, a plastic d20. Not a nice one, just the generic blue one from the starter kit, so that I wouldn't be sad if it fell out of my pocket.

J 'pinged' the potato first. A nice spiritual reverberation, a sharp crack like a heeled shoe hitting a marble floor. Then he pinged the d20. A dull thud, more like a boot in mud.

"So... natural materials," I repeated.

Head shake. He indicated a wooden crate on the shelf I was stocking, then gave me an image of one of the plastic action figures on my bookshelf at home. "The action figure is easier to touch than the crate."

He'd lost me now. I was trying to figure out what the copper pendulum had to do with an action figure.

"It isn't necessarily the materials," he explained. "Natural material is one factor, yes. But narrative is also a material."

"So... my Caduceus Clay figure isn't magically resonant because he's made of plastic, but is beause he's also made of story?"

Somewhere in woo-woo land, I got the sensation of the little bell and woosh sound of a character level up in an RPG, and approval from J. The idea started clicking into place less like a slow conversation now and more like a file upload.

I had a plastic Yoda figurine that I found in my basement. He had long ago lost his robe and walking stick. The painted details on him had started to fade a long time ago. But I decided he was my Lucky Yoda, and I carried him in my pocket for every theatrical production I was part of all throughout college. When one of my cast mates was nervous about their role, I would pass Lucky Yoda off to them. 'Here, take Lucky Yoda. He'll help.' Soon enough, people would ask for him for comfort, or start asking about him during tech week to make sure I was going to remember to bring him. On days when I forgot him, the production was worse, even when I didn't mention to anyone that I hadn't brought him.

Was Lucky Yoda more or less powerful than a four leaf clover would have been? Common advice I had seen from other witchy sources said that the closer an item is to its natural state, the more powerful it will be. A tree has more power than a log which has more power than lumber which has more power than a picnic table. By this logic, Lucky Yoda should have been far removed from any sort of magic. But there was no denying that he had an effect on myself and my cast mates. (Whether or not this effect was magical or psychological is not something I'm here to debate. Believe me or don't. I'm not your priest.) A clover would have had more 'nature' magic to it, sure. But Yoda had story, and that story gave him power. J might not have been able to 'ping' Lucky Yoda as well as a clover just by nature of its materials, but the narrative of him was something that J could ping.

The ethereal concept of 'story' seemed to have a more concrete physical substance in the world of spirits. And I am reminded of the folklore that angels or fairies cannot be creative, and that the ability to create is uniquely human, a little spark of the divine in us. And in the world of spirits where everything is intangible, why wouldn't the intangible nature of a story be just as concrete as everything else in their world?

"Now you're getting it."

I found myself standing stock-still in the cooler at work, staring blankly at a half-unloaded cardboard box of packaged soup while the vaguely blob-like form of a spirit bounced happily at his student's understanding.

I shook my head off and got back to unloading. "So... story: good conductor. Copper: good conductor. Plastic: bad conductor."

"Plastic without care and creativity, yes." J gave me the image of a flimsy, shitty, plain dollar store pencil box. One of those ones where the plastic didn't form correctly, so there's little bits of sharp plastic that you can break off of the edges. "If there's anything you don't want me to touch, you can put it in one of these. But don't put stickers on it, otherwise it starts to get easier."

"I think I get it. Thanks! Here, would you like some soup?" I place a plain plastic container of soup up on the shelf.

"Ha ha."

[koolades-world]

Spellbound Secrets

chapter two: forgotten

synopsis: The House of Lamentation caught fire one night, and you were the only one they recovered from the wreckage. The brothers were in the house as well when you went to bed that night, but they were nowhere to be found. The pact marks are faded, and seem to be getting more and more indefinite by the day. You and Solomon get to investigating but oddly enough, nobody can seem to remember the missing brothers. It’s up to you, with the help of Solomon, to find your beloved demons, lest you never see them again.

navigation: playlist | prologue | chapter one | chapter two (you are here!) | chapter three (coming next saturday)

authors note: it totally slipped my mind last chapter, but i'm doing a tags list for anyone who'd like to join <33 just let me know at any time if you'd like to be added or removed :) also sorry if this chapter reads a little weird. I kinda had to force myself through the ending haha

"We're here!" Solomon patted your shoulder. You hissed slightly at the contact and he quickly removed it with an apology. Before you stood Purgatory Hall. You'd just been discharged from the hospital, and this would be your first time back at somewhere familiar.

"I don't know why, but I'm a little nervous." You absentmindedly messed with the bandages encasing your right hand.

"Do you need some more time before we head in? We could also head to the store. Simeon has a list of items we need for the next few meals, and I was planning to head back out after you got settled.

"No. It's alright. I'm not afraid or anything. Just…" You trailed off. Solomon looked at you expectantly. The feeling growing in the pit of your stomach was nearly impossible for you to place, but you weren't sure why. "Uneasy."

"It's alright. I'll be by your side. Do you want to hold my hand?" He extended it out to you. His fingers were long and slim, and his middle finger was a little crooked. Perhaps that had a story behind it you could ask about later if you needed a distraction. With your good hand, you took his. They were freezing, but in the heat of the Devildom, it was more than welcome.

"Thank you." You said. While the feeling didn't dispel, it was easier to quell it now that your hand was in his.

"Luke will be very happy to see you. You didn't hear this from me, but he made your favorite cookies as a welcome home gift." You could hear the smile in Solomon's voice. The two of you walked up the path to the front door of Purgatory Hall, and to unlock it, he fished around in his pockets for the keys. The bag he was holding of your things had to be temporarily set down. While you insisted you could've just carried it, he refused to let you anything.

Upon unlocking the door, Solomon announced that you were home. Like a hawk, Luke descended upon the two of you and attacked you with hugs. "Luke, settle down. Remember, they just got out of the hospital. We don't want to send them right back." Simeon wasn't far behind the younger angel. Despite what he said, he shuffled towards you to give you a hug of his own.

"Come with me, Mc! I have a surprise for you." Luke held your good leg and looked up at you with big, doe eyes. You glanced back at Solomon.

"You don't need my permission. This is just as much as your home as it is mine." He waved you off, and began conversing with Simeon. They were probably chatting about what the hospital staff had said to you when you'd been discharged. Since Solomon had already let you in on the secret, it was no shock when Luke pulled you into the kitchen and presented you with a plate of cookies. What you hadn't expected was the cute welcome home card that he proudly told you he made all on his own.

The two of you sat and talked for a while over the cookies. He caught you up on whatever he might not had told you on one of his many visits to you. At first, he was very against eating the cookies he'd made for you, but after you reassured him you'd never be able to finish them on your own, he caved. Simeon and Solomon walked in after a little bit, and the four of you sat together at the table. You got lost in the moment, fully enjoying it, just like you would have before the fire. It was like nothing had changed.

"I'd better get going. We still need groceries. Mc, would you like to come with?" Solomon stood up once the conversation lulled.

"I think you just gave Luke a heart attack." Simeon hid his laughter behind a hand. You turned your attention to Luke to see his eyes wide and mouth agape. He got up and stood between you and Solomon.

"They need to rest! They can't go shopping." He adamantly shouted.

"I'd like to go, if that's alright." You told the group. Luke whipped around to face you, an aghast expression etched on his face.

"Mc, no! Please! You can't be serious." Luke pleaded. You got up to stand beside him.

"Think about it, Luke. Imagine how awful it would be to be in the situation they were in. Would you want to be trapped in a hospital bed for a month? Besides, they're with Solomon. I wouldn't trust anymore more than the Demon Prince himself to look after them." Simeon explained to the little angel. As he processed the words, his expression began to change.

"Well, he does have a point. Do you promise to be safe?" Luke took your good hand.

"Yes, I promise." You told him.

"Do you promise to take it easy?" Luke inquired earnestly.

"I promise." You tried you best to suppress laughter as he leant in really close to look you in the eyes.

"Do you promise to come right back home if things go bad or if you get hurt?" Before you could answer, Solomon cut in.

"Alright, they get it. We're headed out now. We’ll be back with the ingredients for dinner!" Solomon took your arm, and pulled you back out the house. Luke watched carefully through the front window as you left.

"Thanks." You let of a sigh of relief. You were afraid Luke wasn't actually going to let you leave.

"It's no problem. I wholeheartedly agreed with everything Simeon said. You need to get out. Thanks to the power of magic, you have that luxury. I don't intend to coop you up if I don't have to." The two of you chatted all the way to and from the store. The trip itself was mostly uneventful, but you enjoyed the trip simply because it was time spent with Solomon.

He made sure to pick up lots of snacks for you, as well as various things the two of you had never tried before with the intention of trying it together. The two of you made the mundane task of regular shopping into something you'd actually enjoyed.

When you got back, Simeon had already begun prepping to start dinner. You gave him the last few ingredients he needed so he could continue. Once he was finished, the four of you sat down at the table together and ate the meal. The table was lively and you could tell the others were glad to have you back. You had a specific spot at the table where you sat as they left it open for you when you all initially sat down to eat. Soon enough, it was time for bed.

"Sleep well Mc. Just let us know if you need anything." Simeon went up the stairs to his own room. Luke had already gone up at that point, but he'd wished you a good night too. It was just you and Solomon left now.

"Where's my room? I was told I lived here, but I don't remember that." You turned to the sorcerer. His expression was unreadable, but you could tell he was thinking.

"Just follow me." He led you up the same staircase Simeon had just ascended and down a long hall. After one turn to the left, he stopped in front of a door you recognized. You tentatively placed your hands on the doorknob and cracked the door. You weren't sure what you were expecting, but it wasn't what you saw.

In front of you was an exact replica of your room back at the House of Lamentation, down to the plushies on your bed. You almost expected to see one of your missing demons to be seated somewhere in that room, waiting for you. It was incredibly eerie, and something about it creeped the hell out of you. You couldn’t place your finger on it, but it felt wrong. You took a giant step back and looked at Solomon. "I know you don't remember, but this is my room from the House of Lamentation." He kept his eyes trained on you. "I don’t like this. I can't sleep in here."

"Is it exactly the same? As far as I remember, it's always looked like this, but based off the information you've given me, this shouldn't exist." Solomon pushed the door open a little more and briefly scanned the room.

"It's identical." You closed the door, not wanting to look at the room anymore. Something that would normally bring you so much comfort was only making your situation more dire. "What exactly is happening here?" The implications of the existence of the room showed not only had the entire realm forgotten about the brothers, but there were also new, physical indicators of the implanted memories. This had to have been the work of someone, or something. It couldn't just be a case of a spell gone wrong. This plus the unusual circumstances of the fire and your injuries must’ve had to be intentional.

"You can sleep in my room tonight, if it comforts you. You don't have to enter that room again if you don't want to." Solomon offered.

"That sounds nice, yeah." You were tired, and while you could just sleep in one of the many spare rooms, sleeping in the same room as Solomon would put you at ease.

"I'll come up with an excuse." The two of you walked further down the hall to Solomon's room. It was cluttered, but there seemed to be a method to the madness. It was familiar and comfortable, in a way your room couldn't be. While you'd usually be awkward in a situation like this, you couldn't find it in you to be at that moment. "Make yourself at home. What’s mine is yours." He busied himself on the other side of the room with a little bit of tidying up. You settled into the farther side of his bed that seemed normally untouched, which happened to be up against the wall.

“Thank you. I’m sorry but I don’t really have an explanation.” You felt bad about invading on his personal space, but you knew he didn’t care.

“You don’t need to give me one. I understand. There’s a lot I don’t know.” He brought over a little lamp from his desk and set it beside his bed in the side table.

“Is there anything I can do to help you out or…?” You watched as he continued to do a little bit more picking up.

“No. Just sit there. I’ll be back with your antibiotics, salve for your burns, and some fresh bandages.” He left the room before you could respond. You’d totally forgotten about that. It wasn’t long before he returned with everything he said he’d bring along with a glass of water. You took the medication first with a shudder, then he started to help you unwrap your burns to treat them. He hadn’t actually seen them until now.

“They’re interesting, aren’t they?” You said softly.

“I did remember the professionals saying the coloration and pattern was unusual, but I didn’t realize this is what they meant.” He gently flipped over your forearm to study the burn.

“What are you thinking?” You could tell the gears were turning in his head.

“I haven’t gotten a chance yet because I was waiting for you, but after I get a chance to study the fire, I think I might have an explanation for this. I’m not certain though, so I want to do some research first.” He gingerly began to apply the salve over the burns. He worked quickly because he intended to repeat this for all of your burns. Your arm didn’t take too long and after he bandaged it up, he quickly moved onto your upper back.

“If I’m being honest, I hadn’t given the fire a second thought. I don’t really want to, actually.” It would be a lie to say you’d never thought about that night. Thinking about it was unpleasant and while you knew you’d have to revisit it in the further, you weren’t ready now.

“If you want, I could handle the brunt of this. It was my proposal, after all.” Solomon offered. His words were delivered with a thoughtfulness you’d never heard from him before.

“I don’t want you to go alone. We’re better as a team. As long as I have you, I feel like I’d be able to handle it.” You smiled at him.

“How does starting tomorrow sound?” He’d just finished with your back and had moved onto your leg. The burns on your leg covered more surface area than the burns on the rear of your body combined, so it was the most daunting task. Despite the fact that you could probably handle that alone, Solomon still insisted on doing it for you. It was a little odd to hear him so soft and gentle, but you could tell he really cared.

“Great. The sooner I have answers the better. More than likely, it has to be connected to the brothers, right?” You pondered out loud.

“Anything for you, my darling apprentice.” The playful Solomon that you usually saw was back. He’d just finished wrapping your leg back up.

“Thanks for the help with my bandages.” You’d never asked him to do it and the fact that he remembered really showed how much he cared.

“Don’t mention it.” He winked at you.

“You’re not going anywhere, right?” You were still a little on edge, and it’d been a long day. You’d be most at ease with him by your side.

“I wouldn’t for the world.” Solomon whispered. He pulled the covers over you and extinguished the lamp on his side table. It was pitch black, but you could feel Solomon shifting in the bed next to you. His presence was heartening. You felt less alone with him by your side.

“Good night. See you tomorrow.”

“Sweet dreams, Mc.”

tags list: @bagofmice

[milomilesmib]

Since I have been feeling a particularly strong attachment to my comfort item lately here are what I think PJO character's comfort items would be (short answers in bold text for those who want a quick read):

Percy: a blue stuffie from his childhood. He doesn't often have it with him but he always feels safer when he is with it. And yes, he probably calls the stuffie "he" because I said so

Grover: a little mushroom pendant from Juniper. He never puts it on anything, just keeps it in his pocket and takes it out to fidget with when he's stressed. It has a really smooth surface and pretty colours so it's a good sensory thing for him.

Annabeth: her camp necklace. She always has it and when she doesn't she feels bare. Every time she's stressed she looks at a bead and thinks of a good memory from that year.

Thalia: a shirt she particularly favours because she wore it a lot when on the run with Luke and Annabeth. Any time she's in a bad mood she wears it and it makes her feel a bit better.

Nico: canonically, it's his skull ring, but I also feel like he'd have a childhood blanket that he's really attached to. It's a really soft fabric and so he always uses it when he's feeling overstimulated or understimulated cause it works for both

Rachel: a scrunchie with a fall leaf pattern on it from Percy. It was the first birthday present he gave her. It was all he could find and afford to get her that he thought she might like and he was scared she'd be underwhelmed but she really appreciated that he went through the effort and now she always has it on her.

Leo: a rock he found on a beach field trip with Piper back at the Wilderness school. It's pink and translucent, so when he holds it up to the sun it lights up a bit. It reminds him that he's cared about and loved when he has an existential crisis about being the 7th wheel.

Piper: a rock matching Leo's, found on the same trip. It's grey and smooth with streaks of white and green. It was a big source of comfort for her when mourning Jason, and she was able to remind herself that there was someone out there who shared her pain.

Jason: a silver bracelet Thalia gave him with a lightning bolt charm. It's the only jewelry he wears and he always has it with him, even when he dies.

Hazel: a small keychain from Frank. It's a little bear holding a plastic gemstone heart. She always brings it with her on quests and outings, making sure never to lose it.

Frank: a purple and gold friendship bracelet Hazel made him when he became praetor. He always treasured it because it made him feel like he'd made someone proud, despite the fact he'd already made so many people proud.

Reyna: her praetor's cloak. She didn't think she'd form an attachment to it, but she really liked the fabric and it made her feel important and safe. After she gave it up, Thalia noticed her seeming sad without it and got her a new one, but silver and gold embroidered with the symbol of Bellona.

Will: a pressed flower from Nico. Nico started picking flowers to press when he was unhappy as a way to learn how to keep his powers under control when his emotions are strong. He gave Will the first one and Will was so honoured he decided to carry it everywhere with him.

Apollo/Lester: a new ukulele Will got him after he lost his old one. Like Percy, he doesn't usually have it, but playing it always calms him down and reminds him of the people he loves.

Meg: a chip of a terracotta pot from her childhood home (I forget what it's called). She found it before she and her dad left and decided to keep it as a keepsake.

Lavinia: her star of David pendant, canonically, but I'd imagine she also has a music box with a little ballerina that reminds her of childhood and makes her feel safe.

Feel free to add on with any characters I missed :)

[its-jaytothemee]

Until I Met You - Chapter 2

Chapter 2: The Party

Pairings: Halsin x Tav

Word count: 3,924

Rating: Currently M, will be Explicit in later chapters.

Read on AO3

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Summary: A slow burn Tav and Halsin romance fic about their relationship forming between the major events of Baldur's Gate 3, and probably a little bit after too. Explores Tav's friendships with some of the other companions, but mainly Karlach. Lots of longing and fluff, including plenty of soft Halsin moments.

Tags: Slow burn, hurt/comfort, love confessions, eventual smut, light angst, implied past rape/non-con

A/N: After starting another playthrough specifically to romance Halsin, I decided to write some additional details of how their relationship forms throughout the game. Not sure how many chapters there will be yet...we'll see where the game takes me :) There will be POVs from both Tav and Halsin throughout the fic. Enjoy!

Tav retrieved one of her arrows from the many corpses strewn about the courtyard. The inside of the temple was just as bloody of a sight. Three True Souls had been defeated and the remaining goblins slaughtered at their hands. One of the leaders lingered in her mind – Minthara, the drow. When their minds mingled, Tav saw something in her memories that she couldn’t quite place. She wasn’t sure how many more of these cultists they would be facing, but she had started to feel uneasy during this past battle. It dawned on her that the only difference between her adventuring party and these True Souls was the strange artefact they carried. Had they not been chosen for this mysterious protection, they would be meeting the same fate at the hands of a different group of adventurers.

She looked back around at her companions. Astarion was limping his way between all the bodies, checking their pockets with disturbing efficiency. Gale was sitting on the ground, leaning against a wall while catching his breath and favoring a twisted ankle. Karlach was helping Tav gather arrows and other weapons around them. A golden glow enveloped their bear companion, transforming him back into an elf.

“You did it. You actually did it.” He was smiling at her, his voice full of admiration. “There are no words to thank you for what you have done today, my friend.”

“Think nothing of it, I was happy to help.” She was still out of breath from the fighting, a small trail of blood tickled her cheek.

“It was everything.” One of his large hands rested on her shoulder. “Forgive me, but I must make haste back to the Grove. I can…see to some matters there and we can discuss your next steps further once you’re able to meet me.” He placed his fist across his chest with a small bow of his head.

Tav nodded her reply as he wildshaped into a rat and ran away.

“Let’s do another sweep of the place, make sure there’s nothing useful that we should take.” She suggested, gaining a small whoop of approval from Astarion.

They did a full sweep of the temple, eventually finding a secret entrance into the Underdark. Tav took note of that for later, she thought she had heard a rumor of a passageway from below that led to Moonrise. Only if we have to go there, she thought to herself. She was desperately trying to hide her anxiety from her companions. Halsin had sensed it when they were talking, but she sensed something from him as well. More of a deep sadness than anxiety.

Luckily, they also found plenty of useful items scattered about. Healing potions, weapons, armor, an abundance of camp supplies and no small amount of gold. They loaded Karlach up with as much as she could possibly carry before making the trek back to the Emerald Grove.

Once they arrived, they took the time to sell some of the extra equipment they had found, exchanging for additional potions and elixirs. Tav was being constantly stopped for one tiefling or another to offer their gratitude. She smiled and accepted their thanks, feeling awkward about being in the spotlight. Being alone by choice for so long made it overwhelming to be the center of attention again. As a new pair of hands seemed to touch her with every step she took, a hazy memory rushed forward to the front of her mind.

She was standing in a vast ballroom, wearing a light, elegant gown. The small circlet adorning her temple was light as a feather but weighed heavily on her shoulders that night. The room around her was filled with colorful patrons. All of them dancing and spinning together, slowly getting drunk on the extravagant selection of wines. She was constantly being pushed into one suitor or another, each doing their best to woo her into their arms. Their wandering hands were not as subtle as they thought, and she had to resist the urge to break their fingers on many occasions. If she caused too much of a scene, Father would not be pleased. Just as she thought she would have to headbutt the handsy nobleman groping her ass, her true knight in shining armor came twirling to her rescue.

Tev’aron, her older brother. He slammed his hips into the drunk noble, acting equally as drunk. She couldn’t help but giggle since she knew for a fact he would never partake. He offered multiple slurred apologies before easily taking his dancing position.

“Hello, Ria.” He flashed his mischievous smile at her, his drunken façade gone. “Your suitors this evening are serious lightweights. Father hasn’t even brought out the liquor yet. Best to pass on this batch as well, they’ll never keep up with this family’s drinking.”

“My hero.” She rolled her eyes at him. Tev was her best friend, always swooping in to rescue her when her noble duties got too overwhelming. And by noble duties, she meant being fondled by strange men.

They danced together in silence for a while, Tev earning dirty looks from the men around them. His ivory curls bounced lightly around his face as they moved around the dance floor.

“Tav’ahria…” He said quietly. “Why do you put up with this? You’re more than just a pretty collectible to be paraded about. You could snap the necks of half of the men in here before anyone realized what had happened. Have you thought more on my suggestion?”

It was all she had thought about for the last tenday. Tev’aron was planning on running away to join the Harpers, and he wanted her to come with him.

“I don’t know, Tev. If Father ever caught up with us…” She could see her parents on the other side of the ballroom, laughing with some diplomat from Cormyr.

“He doesn’t care enough about us to have us followed.” Tav’ahria could taste the venom in her brother’s words.

“Just promise me you’ll think about it, Ria.” He continued, his tone softening. “I can’t bear the thought of leaving you here to be married off to the highest bidder. You deserve more than that.”

She closed her eyes and hugged her brother tightly, desperate to keep a few more moments to herself before she was forced back into her flirtatious mingling.

“Alright, alright. That’s quite enough. The poor woman is bruised to the hells and back, she doesn’t need your extra hands on her.” Astarion’s voice cut through her daydream. Tav snapped back to the present, staring at him in surprise. He was bouncing around her, slapping away hands from her arms and shoulders.

“Astarion? What are you doing?” She asked quietly, still a little disoriented from her thoughts.

“Hm? Oh, nothing I just noticed you were maybe a tad overwhelmed by the affection coming your way. I can’t have all of this attention going to your head, darling.” He smiled sweetly at her, but there was something in his expression that Tav couldn’t quite place. For just a moment, it was like Tev’aron was standing in front of her again, fighting off unwanted advances.

“Of course. Thank you.” She smiled weakly back at him, fighting the tears stinging her eyes.

“Speaking of bruises,” she poked his arm lightly, “we should get back to camp soon. A couple more and you could easily pass for a drow.” He was not amused by her joke, but Karlach was cackling behind them.

“Fine. Let’s find your new lover and head back to camp.” He shot back at her.

“Excuse me?” Tav could feel a blush moving across her face.

“Oh please, Tav. You obviously wanted to climb that brawny druid like the tree he is.” He continued teasing.

“You’re really close to getting those last few bruises my soon-to-be drow friend.” Her gritted teeth were causing her jaw to ache. Astarion thought better of pushing her and turned away with a cheeky smirk.

Tav groaned as she felt her skin getting warmer across her face and chest.

“For what it’s worth, soldier…I think he might have liked you too.” Karlach had walked up beside her, hand hovering supportively above Tav’s shoulder so she wouldn’t get burnt.

“Ugh let’s just wrap up here and get back to camp. We have a party to prepare for after all.” Tav smiled at the large tiefling, surprised by how quickly she had gotten attached to her.

They wandered further into the Grove just in time to see Halsin finishing up a heated conversation with Kagha.

“…you may stay but consider yourself a novice anew.” Halsin’s voice had taken on a much more imposing tone compared to when they spoke in the goblin camp. “You have forgotten the ways of the druids.” He dismissed her with a wave of his hand.

“Yes, Master Halsin.” Kagha gave a small bow before walking away.

“You’ll have your hands full with her.” Tav called from behind him.

Halsin’s expression immediately softened when he saw her, causing Tav’s heart to skip a beat.

“The understatement of the century, my friend. Misjudgments aside, the Emerald Grove will have need of her. Still, nature prevailed on this day. The Grove stands, and I have you to thank.” He reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. She wanted to say something to him, but caught Astarion peeking out from behind Halsin, grinning at her. Tav glared back at him.

“So, what happens now? Will you still come with us to Moonrise?” She was trying to keep her voice from sounding too hopeful.

“Yes of course, I’ll join you in your camp for the celebration later and come morning, I will be at your side.” He still had his hand on her shoulder. His smile was making her knees feel weak. Astarion and Karlach could barely contain their giggles at his last statement. Their lips sputtered as they tried, and failed, to hide their laughter. Gale looked between all of them, confused. Halsin walked away with a small nod.

“I can’t help but feel I may have missed something while I was dead.” Gale was searching each of their faces for a way to decode their inside joke. Astarion hopped up next to him and slung an arm around his shoulders.

“Let me catch you up, my friend.” He dragged Gale alongside him, Tav just buried her face in her hands.

They wrapped up their business at the Grove, talking to Nettie and Rath who each gave them rewards for their efforts. Tav helped the last few straggling tieflings to pack up their remaining belongings. After a few more heartfelt thanks thrown their way, the four of them started the trek back to camp.

***

The sun was just starting to set as Halsin wandered into the small encampment. He had taken some extra time to say his goodbyes at the Grove. A letter was sent to the High Forest to request his replacement as Archdruid, a decision that brought him more shame than he expected. Not because he was leaving his position, but because of the overwhelming relief he felt after sending the letter. He never coveted that position, it was thrust onto his shoulders, but now he couldn’t help but feel guilty. Like he was abandoning those who had looked up to him for years.

Around the camp, it looked as if most of the refugees had already arrived, but there were some unfamiliar faces as well. He saw a Githyanki woman engrossed in the act of sharpening her sword, the shrill sound cutting through the various conversations. Another man with dark skin stood alone just off the edge of the camp. He looked like another tiefling but something was different about him. There was a young half-elf woman who appeared to be brooding into a glass of wine. From what he could gather, they had to be the other unlucky souls who had been kidnapped alongside Tav. Quite the curious group to be travelling together.

He looked around at the smiling faces, finding a feeling of relief and joy in them that he hadn’t seen in these people since he met them. It had been so long since he had witnessed the kindness of a stranger that he had seen today. His eyes scanned the camp until they found Tav. He watched as she stood next to Zevlor, wine glass in hand, waving her hand slowly in front of her, undoubtedly trying to waive off any praise for her good deeds today. She had changed out of her bloodied armor into a blue, sleeveless outfit. The corset-like shirt accentuated her hips, showing off more of her figure than he could see in the leathers she had been wearing. Her muscular back and arms were highlighted by the warm light of the sunset, not to mention her hair which was now tumbling freely down her back. The color and luster of the strands put the most beautiful of pearls to shame. Desire ached in his chest for the first time in years, a warm feeling that made his heart race. He felt like a lovestruck 60 year old again, he couldn’t stop staring at her, taking in every curve of her body. She suddenly turned around and caught his stare. He could feel his cheeks redden, yet he still couldn’t take his eyes off her. A huge smile spread across her face, making his heart skip a beat.

Oakfather preserve me…

She turned back to Zevlor and said something unintelligible before walking towards him. He shuffled awkwardly in place, suddenly unsure of what to do with his hands. They tugged nervously at pieces of his clothing as he averted his gaze towards the ground.

Oh, stop it you old fool. Nothing can happen anyway. You must stay focused.

When he looked back up, Tav had been stopped by a few more grateful refugees. He just barely noticed how she flinched at their touches, obviously uncomfortable by the contact. All her injuries from the day seemed to have healed properly, he couldn’t see any trace of bruises or cuts. With each person that reached out to touch her, the smile on her face twisted, no longer reaching her eyes. It looked flat and lifeless, like a mask. Eventually, she broke away again and continued towards him.

“I was starting to worry that you had changed your mind.” She called out once she was close enough.

“Nonsense, I just had a few additional matters to attend to at the Grove. It seems my absence had a larger impact than I had hoped.”

She gave him a curious look.

“It’s nothing for you to worry about, I promised you my aid and you shall have it.” He didn’t have the energy to explain himself to her right now.

“Okay, well if you want, I could introduce you to the rest of the camp. I’m sure the others are anxious to meet you.” She held out her hand. He started to reach out for her but thought better of it.

“That’s very kind of you, but I’m sure you have many other pleasantries to dole out this evening. It would be rude of me to keep you for too long.” He tried to smile back at her, but her expression fell slightly and her hand dropped back to her side.

“I uh…I do want to apologize for earlier today.” She ran a hand nervously through her hair.

“Whatever for?” Halsin was racking his brain trying to figure out what she could have done to warrant an apology.

“When we first met, I wasn’t exactly uh…subtle. I can’t help but feel that I made a real ass of myself. I’m not always great with first impressions.” Her face had turned slightly pink, now matching the color of her eyes. Halsin relaxed slightly. “When we were sent to find an all-knowing Archdruid, I was sort of expecting an old man. Not someone young like you.”

He let out a snorting laugh at that.

“Young? You are too kind. It’s not exactly a word I would use to describe my age.”

“Oh please, I put you at hardly middle age for an elf.” She was smiling again, a real smile, the sight caused another wave of warmth to wash over him.

“Regardless, let me put your mind at ease. I judge others based on their actions, and yours have spoken clearly for you. You have nothing to apologize for, my friend.” He placed a reassuring hand on her arm, noticing that she didn’t flinch away from him. “As long as we’re being honest, I was just as shocked to see a lovely noble elf to come to my rescue in a dirty goblin camp.” She blushed again.

“Now go on, enjoy yourself. Don’t waste your evening talking to me. There are many other grateful people who wish to spend time with you.”

“Take your own advice, come have a drink with me. I’d like to get to know you if we’re going to travel together.” She was still smiling sweetly at him as she placed her hand over his.

His heart started to race. How he yearned to feel a sense of companionship again, a luxury he couldn’t afford often in the last century or so.

Careful, Halsin. You cannot tolerate such a distraction now.

“Not unless you want to hear my terrible singing, or a love confession to the first soul that crosses my drunken path.” He chuckled as he slowly removed his hand from her arm, she laughed, and the sound sent a shiver down his spine.

“I fail to see the problem. I grew up in Baldur’s Gate, that was a daily occurrence for me.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it.” The words escaped his lips before he could stop them, causing his breath to catch. Tav’s expression shifted, a playful smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.

“Well, there’s other things we could do to get to know one another. If you’re not up for talking or drinking.” She chewed on her lower lip as she held his gaze.

No, not subtle at all.

He could barely control the grin threatening to spread across his face. It wasn’t often that potential partners were so forward with him. A small chuckle started in his chest making its way past his lips.

Silvanus give me strength…

“I have no doubt you could think of something. You strike me as extremely…resourceful.” He took a deep breath. “But as I said, there’s many others here who wish to spend time with you. I must not keep you all to myself, as enjoyable as that may be.”

“I understand.” She said with a small smile. “I’d best go claim some of the wine before it runs out, everyone seems particularly thirsty tonight. We’ll talk in the morning?”

“Of course. Oakfather preserve you, friend.” He gave a small bow of his head before she turned away.

If Tav was disappointed, she hid it well. He kept watching her as she strode through the camp accepting handshakes and compliments, as she checked in with each of her companions, and then finally until she went and sat by Karlach holding two large bottles of wine. The rest of the evening was uneventful, he allowed himself an evening of peace watching the happy scene before him. He longed to feel as carefree as those around him, but it would have to wait. For a hundred years he had been seeking favor with Silvanus and he couldn’t lose that focus now, not even for such a sweet temptation as Tav.

***

Tav walked over to the small box containing several bottles of wine. Hopefully her embarrassment wasn’t too obvious to everyone else around her. She couldn’t quite figure Halsin out, he seemed interested in her, but it was like something was holding him back. Two large bottles of firewine caught her attention. She grabbed them both and made her way over to the riverbank where Karlach was sitting.

“Want some company?” Tav asked, the wine held out in front of her.

“As long as one of those is for me.” Karlach smiled up at her and patted the ground next to her. Tav took a seat and handed over one of the bottles.

“What are you doing out here, soldier? I figured you’d be wrapped up in vines tonight or whatever weird stuff druids are into.” She uncorked the bottle with her teeth and took a large drink.

“Eh, he didn’t seem to go for it. I wasn’t exactly delicate either. I guess we were wrong.” Tav lifted the bottle to her lips, the spice of the wine helping to drive away the cool breeze.

“Really? He seemed a bit smitten with you. Nevermind though, let’s find you someone else, my friend. You and Astarion have been awful flirty. I’m sure he’d at least be fun.” Karlach’s suggestion nearly caused Tav to choke on her drink.

“I don’t think he’s quite my type, love. He…reminds me too much of someone.” She took another large swig of the wine.

“Okay then, how about Gale? He’s got gorgeous eyes, and you two seem to be fast friends. You could always add a little something to that friendship.” Karlach batted her eyelashes at her, causing Tav to laugh.

“I don’t think I want to risk an explosion the size of Waterdeep for a night of fun. Besides, I don’t think Gale is the casual relationship kind of man.”

“Fucks’ sake, mate. I’m trying to help you here.” Karlach chuckled into her bottle.

“Well, that still leaves Wyll, Lae’zel, and Shadowheart. What do you think my chances are with them?” She leaned back onto her elbows, nestling her wine bottle in the sand.

“I think Lae’zel is still upset with you for stepping in on her ‘interrogation’ so she may be out. Wyll has been moping in a corner since we got back to camp, I don’t think he’s in a fun mood tonight. As for Shadowheart, how are you feeling about her Shar worship?” Karlach gave her a knowing look.

“Okay, looks like you’re stuck with me for the evening.” Tav winked at her.

“Well then, welcome to the club of the touch-starved and sexually frustrated, my friend.” She held up her wine bottle and Tav lifted her own to clink against it.

“Happy to be here, love.” Both of them took long drinks and settled in for the evening. They talked long after the others retired for the night, enjoying their bottles of wine and telling jokes and stories from their pasts. Nothing tragic, even though they both had their share of sob stories. Tonight, they focused on happy memories – tales of foes felled, lovers of their past, their favorite foods from Baldur’s Gate. She recounted her conversation with Halsin, trying to hide her disappointment. Karlach still insisted that she had a chance with him. Tav burned herself twice giving Karlach friendly nudges, her instincts causing her to forget about her fiery skin. But she didn’t mind, the injuries only made them laugh harder. Their words started to slur slightly as their bottles emptied. It was refreshing to sit and laugh with her for so long, Tav didn’t have many people in her long life that she could truly call a friend. But it was easy with Karlach. They ended up falling asleep in the sand, the heat from Karlach keeping Tav warm thought the night as she drifted off into a trance.

[gerbiloftriumph]

Lost and Found (ao3):

Grandpa’s story of the goblin caves started out familiarly enough, but as he spoke, the story started to twist and change. New friends, new conversations, and new ways to use old items transformed the tale, and the young king discovered new ways to be brave in the dark tunnels beneath Daventry.

(7.5/?) (confused? Chapter 7 went up a little early, missing its second half. Here’s that second half now!)

~*~

The goblin made to stand, and its injured leg buckled beneath it. It fell, and Graham instinctively caught its arm to help. It growled at him, and Graham stepped back, wondering if he should try to carry the goblin in his pocket. Maybe not a great idea. It would probably find the key Graham had shoved in there, and be in prime biting location. But if it couldn’t walk...

The goblin reached for its broken spear before Graham could make up his mind. The pointy metal top was already snapped off, but it was interested in the wooden pole, which it used as a sort of support, like a walking stick. It tried another step, and this time it managed a few trembly steps. The goblin blinked up at Graham, eyes watering and button nose dripping, but it grinned and graveled something at him, gesturing at the tunnels.

“Do you...know a way out?” Graham asked, warily. Still not entirely sure if the goblin could understand him or if it had just like the cadence of the fairy tale.

It shrugged, pointed, gibbered again.

Well. It wasn’t like they could just sit there in the dark forever, either. May as well. “Do you need help?”

It growled again, and put its nose in the air, marching past with a determined air.

“...okay, then. I guess I’ll follow you.”

The fairy tale detritus of abandoned storage continued even here. They crept past more props: cat sized boots. Candelabras with wax dripped all down them. Broken lanterns perfect for runaway princesses to carry into dark woods. The goblin chittered and pointed these out also, like Graham should think about working them into his next story.

At one point, it picked up a smooshy, rotten apple, probably rolled here from a Snow White game above them, and offered it shyly to Graham.

(“While I was incredibly hungry, I was not that desperate,” Grandpa said wryly, eying the mirror king’s disgusted expression. “My stomach rumbled, but I knew that was not edible.”

The mirror goblin didn’t seem quite pleased with Graham’s non reaction. It grabbed the king’s hand, yanked him down to the goblin’s level, and mashed the fruit against his mouth. Gwendolyn yelped, “Ewww!”

“Turns out, beggars can be choosers!” Grandpa laughed. “I chose not to chew!”

“That’s disgusting, Grandpa!”

“I’m just telling it like it happened!”

“I thought you were an unreliable narrator. This story didn’t even have Acorn and Whisper in it originally! You could be unreliable about this part too! I don’t need to hear this!”)

After scrubbing his mouth with the back of his cloak, Graham took the goblin firmly by the free hand so it couldn’t go grabbing more props, and the two of them walked relatively peacefully for a while. Sort of peacefully. The goblin kept up a rousing chatter as it walked, expressing all kinds of probably fascinating things in goblinese, which Graham could only nod along to, occasionally muttering, “Oh, really?” and “Mmhmm,” as though he understood a single word. The goblin didn’t seem to mind one way or the other if he responded, and it kept babbling. And babbling.

(“Hey, Grandpa?”

“Yes, dearest?”

“This part is going on really long.”

“So it is. We’ll skip to the important bit, where I found the dragon egg.”

“The what?”

“Ohoh, that got your attention, didn’t it? Yes, the dragon egg. Although, I didn’t know that’s exactly what it was at the time. It just felt important.”)

It was hard to miss, what with what felt like a spotlight of glowing mushrooms. A bejeweled oval stone, tucked into a soft bed of moss. The goblin kept on chattering, apparently oblivious to Graham’s hesitation—the king had stopped and was staring at the stone, but the goblin kept trying to walk onward, its feet sliding on the floor with no forward motion, its hand still firmly held in Graham’s.

(“That goblin was going on and on. For the first time in my life, I didn’t feel rude interrupting.”)

“Hey, what’s this?”

The goblin said something or other in incomprehensible goblinese, with dramatic arm waving.

“Right, of course. Yeah. Totally.” Well, if it wasn’t nailed down.... And it looked important enough. Graham picked it up, rubbing his hands across it. It felt smooth and scaly at the same time. A fascinating, flawless stone. It glittered in the light as he held it this way and that, nearly iridescent. Very pretty. And, who knew, such things could be handy. Whatever it was. It was heavy, and it was almost warm in his hands. It felt comforting, somehow, to hold it. He slipped it delicately in his cloak.

Just a rock. A pretty rock. Probably.

(“Ehehehehe,” Gwendolyn squealed. “Why don’t we have a pet dragon in the castle, Grandpa? Where’d she go? She definitely hatched, right?”

“You may find out, with patience.”)

The rest of the walk was uneventful. Once you’ve seen one moldering goblin-sized princess dress on a headless mannequin, you’ve seen them all.

Graham set his last glittering bean, and was about to suggest that they turn around, that his path marking had reached its end, when the goblin yelped in delight, tugging hard on his arm, pulling him toward...a door in the wall. It was properly buried under fairy tale detritus, in such a way that Graham probably wouldn’t have seen it if the goblin hadn’t pointed it out. It sort of looked like goblins just threw broken props through the door and shut it again. Out of sight, out of mind.

He pushed aside the props gently, trying to avoid getting hurt on splintery wooden wizard staffs, trying not to further break already cracked crystal balls. Bells rang, shoes clattered, and at least one very real mouse squeaked and ran for cover. The goblin clapped excitedly, pulling a small hand-carved...something or other from the pile. Maybe a donkey. It had four legs, sort of. It was badly done, whatever it was meant to be, but someone had lovingly painted a smile on it anyway. The goblin dragged it back and forth across the floor in a vague cantering motion, making cooing noises.

This was sort of like a puzzle, he thought, as he tried to balance things so they didn’t fall on his head as he worked.

(“This part of the tale gets a little rocky,” Grandpa said, watching the mirror king balancing a bucket on top of a ladder, which was already teetering unsteadily on a pile of stones.

Gwendolyn sat up. “Oh, no, don’t—”

The pile of rubble collapsed with a ringing clatter, burying the mirror king, who gave a strangled yelp as he disappeared beneath a pile of trash. The goblin, on the other hand, leapt safely out of the way and watched dispassionately. A tarnished silver plate bounced and rolled past.

“That goblin’s armor was slate of the art,” Grandpa announced proudly.

“Wasn’t this originally supposed to be a bedtime story or something,” Gwendolyn said grumpily. “You’re not going to scare me to sleep, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

The puzzle reset in the mirror, as though nothing had happened. The mirror king tried something else, and again, the pile of rubble slipped loose and buried him. His hand clawed at the air for a second before a bucket clanged over it and he was gone completely.

“All I wanted to do was dig myself out of that hole!” Grandpa said.

“Grandpaaa.”

“Oh, am I bouldering you? I know what you’re thinking, that I’m out of rock puns, but give me a second to dig up some more.”

“Seriously, next time I need help sleeping I’ll just get warm milk instead of coming in here for a story.”

“Craters gonna hate.”

She groaned.

“Okay, fine. We should stop this story before it erodes any further. I didn’t stop to marble at my surroundings: I solved the puzzle first try.” And the little mirror king did so, this time, carefully scooting all the trash out of the way safely.)

Graham brushed aside a moldy piece of stage curtain, pushed open the door, and found a long tunnel. “This?” he said to the goblin. It chittered something, and it pushed him forward through the door.

The door led onto a steadily sloping path leading upward, well illuminated by the mushrooms. Newton stayed happily in his pocket, likely napping, and Graham and the goblin walked together. It was strange, Graham thought. To be walking peacefully with one of his jailors. Mostly peacefully—the goblin was still talking a million miles a minute, one hand holding the self-made crutch and the other moving the hand-carved toy up and down. Really, it was more like a child than anything else.

And it had been oh so easily distracted by a story. That was something well worth remembering.

Once they reached the top of the ramp, they pushed through a little gap in the wall, and Graham realized they had come out near the Frog Prince stage. He never would have spotted this entrance in the shadows. He might have been able to come here at any point—and in a route much less fraught than his discovered crack in the wall and slide down into darkness. Ah, well. Based on how forgotten it had seemed down there, Graham suspected the goblins didn’t particularly remember it existed, either.

He and the goblin parted ways, then, the goblin scarcely glancing at Graham as it hurried off to do whatever goblins did. And Graham, with his newfound coins, scurried off in the opposite direction, eager to finally get his hands on the best prize he could imagine down here.

“Merchant! How are you holding up?”

“These suspenders are helping.” The Merchant pulled himself up by his suspenders, and his very short shorts.

Graham made a face and sighed. “...thanks for that.”

“I mean, look. Our options here are 1: Buy, 2: Talk, 3: Move along. We don’t have infinite options here, okay? You want cute conversation, you go find that baker or something.”

“Alright, fine, option one, please.”

“Aah, what’re ya buyin’?”

Graham glanced over his shoulder before leaning in, whispering, “The good stuff.”

“It’s all good stuff.”

“Okay, the illegal stuff.”

“Me? With that? Never! Cross my heart and pray to all the saints and gods! Shame on you, boy, for asking for such things. Does your mother know?”

“Stars, Merchant, I just wanna buy that bow.”

“Oh. Right, right.” He plonked the case on the wooden slab between them. “Six shiny gold coins, eh? You got?”

“I got.” Graham spilled the gold out of his pockets.

The Merchant eyed the old coin with the queen’s profile warily. “It ain’t shiny, but I guess it’ll spend as well as anything,” he said, shoving it into some unknown depths in his trousers. “For your pleasure, Majestic, enjoy it. Don’t shoot your eye out.”

Eagerly, Graham grabbed at the wooden bow. It was rough, and ugly, and he missed Achaka’s bow all the more. This bow wasn’t worth six coins. It might not even be worth one. He tested the string with his thumb, tied it tighter, pulled the draw back, thought. He didn’t care for how it felt under his hands, and there was only one arrow, but with patience and a whole moat-full of luck, he might manage to make a single shot. Maybe. “I’m not going to be storming any castles with this,” he muttered.

“No refunds.”

[blocked-zombieartist]

Duct Tape and Disharmony

A request from @hathorneheiress Enjoy, superstar!

 “That’s it.” I muttered under my breath. I had been listening to my three baby brothers arguing for two and a half hours now. They were sixteen, fifteen, and fourteen, respectively. They should know how to settle a dispute peaceably by now. Key word: should. 

 Shockingly, no matter where in this huge-ass house I went, they always ended up near enough to drive me insane. If they weren’t gonna settle their differences peacefully by themselves, it was time for me to get involved. I stormed off to my room and rummaged through my beat up tool box. 

 “Little idiots…” I drawled quietly. I could still hear their raised voices, even now. Were they getting in a physical spat now? I sighed. I was about to put the fear of God and of a Hawthorne in them like our Grandfather never had. Finally, I found what I was looking for. I pulled it out and pocketed it. Now came the hard part. How to pick them off, one by one?

 Hoping this will work, I first text Xander. I feel a little guilty about having to dupe them all, but they’ve left me with no choice. I’ll make it up to each of them. I text him, asking if he wants to decompress from their argument and come to his workshop and show me his new-fangled contraptions like he’s been wanting to for a while now. He responded with a robot emoji and and excited emoji. I knew he was on his way. I stood behind the doorway and laid in wait. He burst in the room.

 “Big brother! I’m here! Are you ready for a full crash course of robotics history and my incredible robotics history-in-the-making?” He looked around for me. I lunged. It was a struggle, but after a few minutes of tussling, I got him pinned on the floor, face down. I wrangle the item of the hour out of my pocket. 

 “Hey! Don’t-ow! Sit still, dammit!” I cursed as Xander almost escaped my grip. I forced his arms back behind him and managed to duct tape his hands together. After that, it was easier to duct tape his feet, and to ensure no one found and helped him, I finally slapped a piece over his mouth, silencing his loud protests. “Sorry baby brother. You’ll see. This is for your own good. And your brothers too.”

 I stashed him in one of the many hidden rooms in the House and went off to wrangle another stubborn mule Jameson. I send a member of the staff to tell him that the car he ordered arrived. Another lie, but I had to do it. As predicted, he dropped his pissing match with Gray and came to the garages. Also predictably, he came through the secret passage. I quietly chuckled and mentally patted myself on the back. I knew my brothers so well. I quietly followed Jameson, ducking behind cars here and there as he searched for what he thought was the new arrival. I finally saw my change and pounced on it. And on Jameson. 

  Another scuffle later, this one a much closer call and with much more trash talking and cursing, and Jameson was on the ground, glaring up at me. He was effectively duct taped on the arms, legs, and mouth, just like Xander. We were both still breathing heavily from said scuffle, and we both had a couple bruises. I was still the stronger one, but damn, if Jamie wasn’t growing up and giving me a run for my money.

 “Sorry little brother. Had to be done,” I grunted as I hoisted him up and carried him to where I was keeping Xan. It was times like these that the secret passages all throughout the House were very helpful. I deposited Jamie with Xan and left to find Grayson.

  I went through the House in search of him. Finally, I found my oldest baby brother in the center Grandfather’s maze. He was practicing his sword sparing. I came up with my alibi.

 “Gray!” I panted. “Jamie… he’s trying to drive inebriated again. I tried to stop him from running off the garage, but got my ass handed to me.” 

 Like the ever dutiful big brother he was, Grayson immediately put down his sword and started heading to the garage to intercept Jameson. I followed him, not wanting to take him down out here and have to carry him all the way back to the holding room. I walked with him for a ways. I took note of his still present frustration. No words were exchanged, a result of his irritation with his brothers and thinking Jamie was going to be reckless again. 

  When we got near the passageway, I took advantage of his absent-mindedness and tackled him to the floor from behind. Since he was caught off guard, I was able to make quick work of duct taping his hands together behind his back. Despite his crocodile-style body roll in an attempt to get free and the uncharacteristic(though not unprovoked) slew of cursing he spat at me, I got the tape fastened securely around his ankles too. 

 “Love you, Gray, but watch your mouth. And your back next time.” I put a piece of tape over his mouth and hoisted him over my shoulder. I carried him to the room where his brothers were still bound and silent. I set Grayson down. 

 “Alright boys. You have been driving the entire House bat-shit crazy with your pointless arguments today.” I walked around the room and took the tape off their mouths. “I will be coming to check on you three in about an hour to see if you’ve resolved your disputes. If not, another hour. I’ll bring food and water when I come back in case you’ll be in here longer. See y’all.” I shut and locked the door, silencing their loud protests. 

 I returned with the water and food like promised, and somehow, they were still arguing. I ultimately forced some water and a little food down their throats and wordlessly left the room, locking it once again. I got a text half an hour later from Xander. “How the hell?” I muttered. He shouldn’t be able to text. His hands were bound. The text was a picture. It was the three of them, free, and taking a selfie. While I was a little surprised, their escape was not completely unexpected. They were Hawthornes, after all. Another text came through, this time from Grayson.

 “You’re next. -Your “baby” brothers”

 This was gonna be a long week.

[andres-ortega]

There was a moment a few months ago - a brief, painful moment - when Andres thought this would never happen for him.

The love of his life was slipping from his fingers, his friends were more distant than ever, and his life overall has gone from the highest of highs to the lowest of lows. But hitting rock bottom felt like a knock of sense, and from there, he got back up.

He was never the type to let someone else win. Whether that someone was Bernard, or just the pain of life in general — he always came out on top.

Through hard work and groveling, Andres found himself back on track for what his future should look like. Elyse was happier than ever after finding her mother, and together, they’d also found the home of their dreams. 

The movers and Andres worked all day to bring in boxes and furniture that’d be shipped from Miami, along with new items Elyse had picked out for the Victorian-style home in San Francisco. It was the perfect location to ensure they were close to her mother and her closest friend. 

Finally, at the end of the day, Elyse and Andres collapsed onto the couch set up in their living room. They were dirty, sweaty, and surrounded by unpacked boxes, but he knew it was the perfect time. After carrying it around for months, Andres dug a small, velvet box out of his pocket.

“Elyse?” Andres called to his girl as he slowly slid off the sofa.

Elyse had her head back with her eyes closed, clearly trying to relax after the day they had. “Yeah, baby?” She mumbled sleepily, sitting up and rubbing her eyes.

As she did, she would see Andres on one knee in front of her, the box opened with a blue, teardrop diamond ring catching the light.

“I bought this ring months ago in hopes an engagement could save us. What I didn’t realize then, was that the work we needed to put in could not be substituted with a diamond. I needed to be patient and prove to you, with my actions, how beautiful and secure our future could be. I kept telling myself that I’d know the moment when it came. I went through over the top scenarios that included trips to Paris, fireworks, and even a hot air balloon ride…” Dre laughed at this, tears now stinging the corners of his eyes. “But this is the perfect moment. My hair is flat from wearing a hat all day, and yours is stuck to your forehead. We’re wearing clothes with holes in them and you have a little dot of dirt on your cheek… and you know what? I have never loved you more. You have never seemed more beautiful; more lit from within than you are right now. I want our dreams to begin in this house, and that includes making you my wife. Will you do me the incredible honor of marrying me?”

[captain-writes]

If you’re taking prompts, can you do something with Jimmy overworking himself to the point of exhaustion and the other empires step in? I love sickfics with hurt/comfort.

Did I write this in less than an hour? Yes. It was wonderful. I've also posted the oneshot here on my Ao3 account!! Thanks so much for the prompt!

Jimmy wasn't sure quite what had happened, but he knew that he hadn't been in his bed with his cats sleeping on him the last time he opened his eyes.

Even more, he knew that no one lived with him, so the sounds of people downstairs and the smells of food coming from his kitchen were unusual and somewhat startling. He didn't quite have the energy to panic about it, however. So he pulled himself out of bed and began padding down the stairs, Norman cradled in his arms as Flick scampered along behind him.

Coming down to the base of the staircase, Jimmy blinked as he took in the sight of Sausage and Scott cooking in his kitchen as Lizzie and Joel played with Hermes in his living room. Shelby, Katherine, and Joey were sat on his couch near them as they seemed to be repairing his armor, which caused him to realize that the familiar weight of the protective gear wasn't pushing him down. Pixlriffs and Fwhip were going through some sort of paperwork over at his kitchen table. False was tinkering with his elytra and chatting with both of them. Gem and Oli had joined Sausage and Scott in the kitchen, but instead of cooking, they were pulling things out of storage and putting them back, presumably to sort the items.

"What are you all doing here?"

"Jimmy!" The rulers seemed to clamor over themselves to acknowledge the sheriff, causing the man to pull back from the attention. As he stepped back, his ankle caught the lowest stair, causing him to slip backward and land on his butt, now propped up by the fact that he was sitting on the third stair up from the floor.

"Everyone give him some space," Fwhip instructed, the man's voice carrying an edge that they didn't often see from the admin. "Jimmy, I found you collapsed out by the train. We were worried."

"Collapsed?" After a moment of thought, the story didn't surprise Jimmy as much as it should have. He had been over near the train earlier to deal with a few tasks that had cropped up, but he couldn't remember ever leaving the area.

"Have you been feeling okay, Sheriff?" Gem asked gently, approaching slowly and putting the back of her hand on Jimmy's forehead. The cool feel of her hand was soothing and Jimmy's eyes slipped shut only for him to hear: "Oh, Jimmy, you're burning up."

"I'll be fine. I've got stuff to do, gotta finish Tumble Town."

Gem frowned, unseen by the man in front of her, "You shouldn't be pushing yourself, Jimmy. You need to rest. If you've got a fever, you're not going to get better unless you allow yourself time to heal."

"Don't have time though. Already behind, not going to finish at this rate."

"What do you need to finish? If we can help, then maybe you could rest?" Katherine offered.

Jimmy frowned, a moment of uncertainty as he tried to figure out what to say, "Need to... need, uh, I have a list. It's in my vest pocket?"

Shelby recovered the article of clothing from the pile of garments that she sat next to, pulling a set of papers out of the pocket. It was then that everyone realized that it was not one page, but several, filled completely with to-do lists and duties that the sheriff had taken on.

Flipping through the pages, the witch finally looked up at Jimmy with concern etched into her features, "When do you find time to sleep, Jimmy?"

"But I just did?"

"You passed out!"

"But, I was sleeping? I had things to do, empire to run. You know how it is," Jimmy's nonchalance only seemed to concern his fellow rulers more, which confused him greatly.

"Jimmy, look at me?" Pix requested, drawing the younger man's attention his way. "Your health is always more important than your empire. Or anything else. You were collapsed on the ground in the middle of the day in the mesa. That can be dangerous."

"I have to finish my work though?"

"Jimmy, most of us don't even do all the things on this list. And you have things listed to do in other empires to help us."

"I'm the Sheriff. I have to make sure that everyone else's empires are safe and their citizens are doing well. Chromia's had a pillager problem recently and there's a spider nest that I haven't cleared out yet near the Eversea."

“You apparently also check in on some of our villagers at least once a week. And you have a task listed here that just says ‘double food supply’. Has Tumble Town been having trouble getting food?”

“Doesn’t really rain a lot here, crops don’t grow super well. We’ve got enough, but there’s some new families that have moved in and Lyra and Sara both had children last season. We’ve got more mouths to feed, but it’s been a bad harvest so far. Not really looking good going forward.”

“Oh Jimmy, you know I’ve got extra food. Dawn had a good harvest this year, we could easily help you!”

“Right. Yeah,” Jimmy agreed, though the vibrancy seemed to drop out of his voice.

Scott blinked, set down the utensils in his hand, and left the kitchen. He grabbed Jimmy’s chin with just enough force to direct the man’s movements, but not enough to hurt, moving the man’s gaze upward.

“You are not failing your empire. You are not failing us. You are doing everything you can and that’s enough. You don’t have to do extra things to make up for whatever you think you’re not doing. Jimmy, you are doing so well. But we’re worried because you’re doing so much extra that it’s hurting you.”

Jimmy searched Scott’s eyes for some hint as to the level of honesty that the collector was showing. Finding no sign of a lie, Jimmy began to blink back the tears of exhaustion that were finally making their appearance, the sheriff unable to hold them back any longer.

“Scott, I’m so tired.” The sheriff's words were weak, but the admittance and honesty rang loudly through the already quiet house.

Scott smiled gently, “Go rest, we’ve got you.”

[angeltannis]

I spent HOURS searching for all the stupid Dribbles parts, the journal said I had picked them all up but the pelvis was NOWHERE to be found. I searched every pouch, backpack, companion, and the camp chest like 50 times. I even installed mods to help sort inventory better. It was totally gone, and Reddit had me believing it was a quest-breaking bug and that I should just move on.

But then I remembered, faintly, from like 30 gameplay hours ago, that I had been busted “stealing” by an NPC in one of the part-containing houses, and I had selected “Drop the items and apologize” or whatever. I also remembered the NPC bc she was pretty memorable (a half-orc).

Went back and nope, the items weren’t anywhere in the house. That left only one remote possibility.

Long story short…as a last-ditch effort to complete the quest, I went back to that area, found the half-orc lady, did an Extreme Stealth Maneuver with my tiefling barbarian (cast Darkness, sending everyone running), and then in the confusion I pickpocketed the half-orc. And sure enough, she was CARRYING THE PELVIS AROUND IN HER DAMN POCKET!!!

So I finally got to complete the mission. and for some fucked-up reason, assembling dismembered clown corpses left Shadowheart inspired

[investigator-luna]

🌹 (rose) - What does your oc find attractive in other people? Are these traits found in their friends and/or romantic partners? Are they found in themselves?

🍎 (apple) - Does your oc go to school or take classes? Did they go to college? What was/is their favorite subject? Did/do they get good grades? Did/do they enjoy school?

🎒 (backpack) - What items does your oc usually carry? Do they have a bag or just keep everything in their pockets? Do they carry a lot or a little?

"things I find attractive, good music taste for one, and someone who is ok with me staying up late, and also going out with me to concerts and stuff. I don't really know, I haven't really thought to much about it really."

"my favorite subject? I don't really have one to be honest there, all ok. I think I get good grades for the most part, I enjoy it most of the time, not when i'm you know dying but otherwise I enjoy it."

"Let's see, normally I have my phone in case someone needs my help with something around school. I also normally have some kind of paperwork or case report. I normally keep my phone in my pocket and I don't really have a bag or anything." I don't carry a lot of personal stuff but I carry a whole lot of stuff for work. "

[luzdaydreamer]

Event: Mountain Journey

Xavier: Chapter 1

As I walk with Xavier through the streets of Blossom Town, I'm in a state of disbelief.

MC: This place really exists. I thought it was a story someone made up online...

Xavier: Or maybe we're lucky to have found it.

MC: Yeah. After getting lost in the mountains, we should thank our good luck for bringing us here.

The one who got us lost in the first place looked away. His gaze fixed on a stall selling roasted sweet potatoes.

Xavier: Are you hungry? It smells delicious, and I'm feeling hungry right now.

He lowers his head to search his pockets for his phone and wallet.

MC: Xavier, people pretend to be busy when they feel embarrassed.

Xavier: ...We should buy some.

Aware it's just a distraction, I find myself drawn to the scent of roasted sweet potatoes. I snag the last one from the stall, grab the spoon from the vendor, and cradle the sweet potato in its bag.

MC: Do you want to try it? We can share.

Xavier: Something's off, don't you think? Isn't this what you usually do when there's only one roasted sweet potato left?

He leans in and opens his mouth.

Xavier: Aaaah.

Everything he says hints that he expects me to feed him. I reveal a mischievous grin and scoop up a spoonful of roasted sweet potato. And then quickly shove it into my mouth.

MC: When there's only one of something left, I should keep it all to myself. It's delicious and sweet.

I get another spoonful. I plan to continue enjoying the sweet potato.

Xavier: Well, you can have what's on the spoon. I'll take whatever's in your hand. We shouldn't get in each other's way.

While I'm distracted, Xavier grabs the roasted sweet potato from my hand and bites into it.

MC: ...Xavier, you thief!

He chews and shakes his head

Xavier: I'm different. I'll share it with you... Just open your mouth and say ahh.

A local tells us that no tourists have visited this small town in a long time. Xavier and I are their latest guests.

Local: This is the only room we've managed to clean up. I hope it's okay.

The girl who's been our guide has an apologetic expression.

MC: It's okay. I figured this would be the case on the way here...

Local: Oh, tomorrow night we'll be having our Flower Festival. It will be really lively! If you have time, you should check it out and have fun.

With the local gone, silence envelops the room. I can't resist sneaking a glance at Xavier. He also sneaks a glance at me. We make eye contact.

MC: ...We actually brought our camping gear. But it turns out we won't be needing it after all. Haha.

Xavier: Carrying it on our backs was for nothing.

He walks over to our bags and unzips his. He takes out a camping lantern, a small stool, and a portable stove. He picks up each item, examines it, and then puts everything back into the bag. I don't know why he did that.

MC: What about tonight...

Xavier: We can still use this.

Xavier grabs a heavy purple duffel bag.

MC: ...A tent?

Xavier: I'll be sleeping here tonight.

Before I can respond, he unzips the bag and begins setting up the tent in the room. He follows the instructions.

MC: Huh?

Xavier: You can have the bed. I won't fight you for it.

MC: But I actually...

The words get caught in my throat. I let out a soft sigh and take the manual from

Xavier's hands.

MC: Don't worry, I'll help you.

[ N E X T ]

[ G U I D E ]

[hopeforkitten]

I found a tadpole in my head on the topic of interaction between Tav warlock and Gortash.

I see Gortash, who is 15-16 years old and who is bullied and disliked by everyone in the house of hope except Tav. At the same time, the boy is still prickly with her. We would, as Raphael's favorite, beg for grams of leniency for him, but since Gortash does not know how to keep his sharp tongue between his teeth, this is of littleuse.

Gortash tries to appreciate our kindness, but our voluntary cooperation with Raphael is too disgusting for him.

Tav, who brings sweets for him👉👈

I think they could hide in a secret passage to the dungeon, sit hugging and Gortash would cry on our shoulder

yes Gortash is my son

Gortash does not want to be a warlock, because he does not want to link his life and strength with Raphael and he will read our contract in absolute horror, where we have transferred all our rights and freedoms to the devil.

"How did he get you to sign this abomination?"

"Well, actually, some of the items are written in my hand. Perhaps... it was in a frenzy of love."

Tav recalls an episode where they literally lay like two schoolgirls with homework on the bed, shaking their legs and entering new points about eternal fidelity, love to the grave and after it, etc., sealing each point with an insinuating kiss, of course (it definitely looked funny next to the section about duties and punishments for warlock)  Gortash tilts his head and looks with disgust into Tav's dreamy face until she returns her gaze to him again and blushes.

"Well, maybe I'm still in a love frenzy. Don't look at me like that, you can see for yourself how kind Raphael is to me." Tav ran her hand through the young man's black tangled hair. "And he would be kind to you if there was even a concept of respect in that stupid head."

And now a more delicious thing that came to my mind when watching Ratatouille. Two scared teenagers Gortash and Tav spy from Zariel are abused by Raphael and just the world around them.

While cleaning, Gortash catches a mouse in the house of hope, something forces him to save the animal, and not kill it. Perhaps there is an obvious intelligence in the eyes of the animal. The mouse tries to run, but does not squeak and quickly realizes that it is safe.

Gortash is sitting in a secret passage to the dungeon when the animal is enveloped in magic and turns into a human. As scared as a mouse.

So the future Archduke found his first friend. Tav quickly told him that she was sent by another devil, that she was not here of her own free will and only wanted to escape.

Gortash will say that he will not betray her, in secret he will bring her food and a wet cloth to clean her dirty hands after being in the form of a mouse.

They will spend some time in the house of hope. It was enough just to hide your guest when he was a mouse. Gortash left Tav in a corner of the dungeon, or carried it in his pocket. The main thing is that Raphael does not hear their conversations while Gortash polishes the house and Tav quietly squeaks from under the layers of fabric.

They became real friends. The boy had never seen such sympathy in his direction before. They were in the same helpless position, but just being there was more than enough. And it was much warmer to fall asleep in a cage with more than one person.

It was also necessary to hide his friend from Nubaldin. In the guise of a mouse, it's also simple. It was not easy for Tavu to watch the beatings of Gortash. When Nubaldin left, she could take care of the prisoner.

A particularly bad blow to the chin, the scar will remain with him for life, and Tav can only ease the pain with cold spells and a healing potion.

Nubaldin may inadvertently notice Tav, Gortash will explain that this is another prisoner. The persuasion is successful, but their escape plan should start moving faster. They can't stay here anymore.

In the first dream, when Gortash opens his eyes, he sees Tav in Raphael's hands. He picked her up by the collar, shakes her and showers her with questions, Gortash remembers that the contract will not allow her to confess. Raphael had been angry at him before, but he had never seen him ready to kill. Gortash had never found Raphael's type attractive before, and now, speckled with malice, with eyes hidden behind wrinkles and bared truly bestial teeth, even more so. Pure evil holds his only friend for the whole world. It's getting hotter, the source of the heat is the formidable figure of Raphael.

It gets hotter and hotter until Gortash comes to himself again from the smell of burnt flesh, now the scene is a little different. He manages to catch Raphael and Nubaldin sauntering towards  his cage. The boy looks back at Tav, she shrinks into the corner of the cage, her talisman jumps in her hands, she frantically whispers a spell, but she cannot reincarnate, and it's too late.

Nubaldin opens the cage and pulls Tav out of it with deceptive ease.

"Mr. Raphael, I don't wish you any harm, I'm just a performer, I-I didn't learn anything significant." The owner of the house is incredibly restrained. Tav huddles at the door of the cage, and he gallantly holds out his hand to her, she accepts it.

"Who sent you, my joy?" He's calm, too calm. The devil slowly walks away from the cage, beckoning Tav to follow him.

"M-My mouth is sealed with a contract, no matter how much I would like to confess to you," Gortash sits motionless while Nubaldin closes the cage. Then he clung anxiously to the bars. He looks at the devil and Tav walking away. He sees how awkwardly Tav's feet move across the rocky floor of the dungeon to keep up with Raphael's long stride. Her small, light figure next to him is like a cat and a canary.

"So it's the devil, that's enough, dear." His gentle grip on her hand turns into a predator's clawed paw.

"You know, the emotions of people who cannot give away a secret even in torture because of the contract cannot be described in words, I think I will like working with you."

Tav pales, turning to the cage, in search of the only help in this world.

She calls Gortash's name several times louder and louder. Raphael inexorably pulls her forward, she almost falls, her legs get tangled. Gortash gets down on his knees and unsuccessfully shakes the closed door of the cage. The devil and Tav disappear around the bend, and it's as if only at this moment, when she disappears from sight, the boy realizes the gravity of their situation. A blow and a scream. He cannot identify the first, but he understands the second perfectly. Everything repeats itself. Panic overwhelms Gortash, and he wakes up once more.

This time, Tav is sleeping peacefully next to him. A few seconds of delay and he starts shaking her, waking her up from sleep.

"We need to run."

It will be somewhat easier for them to escape, because the same inquisitor from Zariel will help with his presence and they will dive into the portal in the hall.

They will end up right in the citadel of Zariel. Tav will immediately have to report to his patron (most likely Mizora) and beg to let his friend go, which is quite difficult, because he may also know something.

then Tav will be pleased to help Gortash settle into the city (the detail that tav will not find out anything and for this he will be punished with horns is welcome. Yes, Gortash will comfort him and try to look for advantages in a new look. oh gods, a soft teenager gortash next to the same scared tav, give me ten) yes, they are my children

I wrote this mostly for the sake of Raphael taking Tav out of the cage. And how convenient, I have three husbands in bg3, and if I need to write about Gortash or Astarion, Raphael always becomes the villain

[promethea-silk]

Midnight Daydream

Correspondence had been here and there between Cordelia and Ricard since the previous engagement had offered up such a surprise at dinner. The two had been considering their next steps in tandem but also apart, or at least she had been. Cordelia wasn’t relying solely on Ricard to hand her brother-in-law, she had some hand in the situation behind the scenes as well. Not to say that she hadn’t trusted Ricard to get the job done or that efforts weren’t being made, but she had secured an offshoot of information by way of one of Eivor’s men which was proving to be lucrative. 

Cordelia had planned to discuss her learnings at a previously planned time of meeting with Ricard, though upon her recent revelations she had inquired that they meet sooner than originally discussed. It was strange to her in some ways that with finding the Cress family book and letters between many members at play here that she thought to share this with Ricard. Partially she had hoped that he might be able to do some digging to find out more details on the matter but also she oddly sought comfort in wanting to unload this discovery with him. The night that she had found the items, Cordelia gathered everything she could find that related to her family and the Cress bloodline, carrying them back to her chambers where they lay strewn about the bed and nearby tables. She poured over them throughout the night straight until morning when she promptly had word sent to Ricard to meet her there. Still in her nightgown, hardly proper or prepared for company, she instructed the staff to have Ricard find her where she had been the hours previous no matter the time of day or night. 

Receiving word prior to his morning coffee had not been expected, to say the least, and Ricard had eyed the messenger with no small amount of suspicion for several moments before taking the missive, checking to make sure it was genuine and then - once he was sure, paying the poor man. After the events of the previous several days one couldn’t be too sure. “Cancel my day, Victor…and inform my father I won’t be into the office. I’ve an emergency that just came up.”

He didn’t wait for a response - trusting the young man to see that the messages were delivered - before dressing and heading out himself. He didn’t need to be terribly observant to recognize the change in tone between the typical missives he’s received from the Lady Gray and the one tucked away in his vest pocket this particularly brisk morning. The question was, what had happened between the time he’d left her estate the evening before and this morning to set her so off kilter. 

There was barely an opportunity to knock on the door to the estate before it was pulled open and he was ushered inside, directed back to the very chamber he’d been within the evening before - though for very different reasons. As his eyes adjusted, they narrowed, taking in the sight of the papers and books scattered across the various surfaces, and Cordelia herself. Ricard cleared his throat gently, announcing his presence as he moved over towards her, pulling the missive from his pocket, “Your message sounded rather urgent. Care to tell me what all this is about, Cordelia?”

His arrival did nothing to pull her attention away from the large book open on her bed, a finger tracing the written words from left to right. Despite him moving to her side and addressing her, there was a long silence before she finally replied. Slowly, almost creepily, she turned her attention to him as she narrowed her gaze onto him with a steady breath. “I… need your help with something.” Swallowing hard, she stood up straight, her hands lifting to about waist height with her palms outward to him almost as if she were showing an enemy she meant no harm.

“I need your help and I need you to try to look at this with a calm mind because what I am about to show you I suspect might bring about a certain reaction that I am attempting to avoid.” 

Ricard couldn’t help but tilt his head, attempting to read between the lines. “Cordelia - just tell me what it is you need my help with. I’ll…try to temper my response to whatever it is you have to show me, since you think it’s going to  bring about a response, but I can’t help with something if I don’t know what the something is…” He reached out, setting a gentle hand on her shoulder, turning her towards him as the other hand nudged under her chin and he offered a reassuring smile. 

“Now…what has you so worked up?”

Somehow his initial response caused her a bit of surprise, her tired eyes blinking up at him as she fought to ground herself and regain her typical ever stoic composure. A hand lifted to gently and kindly remove his touch from her chin, just as means to move back to the bed as her grasp held onto his for a brief moment before releasing it. She took a deep breath and gestured to the various and copious amounts of parchments, letters, as well as the tome in the center of it all. “Tell me this is not what it seems to be.” 

He noted the continued hold on his hand, brief as it was before moving to take a look at the scattered papers, letters, and eventually coming to rest on the tome, his eyes narrowing as he read. Slowly, methodically he moved from letter to letter - putting them in order and gradually putting together a timeline - then the papers, and finally the tome. 

“If the assumption you drew from looking over these forms is that your father is Adrian Cress…and that your late husband knew about it and utilized that knowledge to essentially blackmail your family into the arrangement you had with him…then I can’t tell you that. Because I would draw the same conclusion…” 

He gathered up one of the letters carefully, reading over it again before facing her. “...when did you find all of this?”

Lips pressed firmly together as she took a breath, holding it a moment before slowly releasing it. “I hadn’t actually expected you to tell me otherwise.” Her gaze flicked around the bed, continuing to take it all in the same as she had been hours before, nothing new standing out at her that she hadn’t already read. She felt an anger rising in her, the brisk rise and fall of her chest testimony to her growing emotions. Hands resting on the bed dug into the covers that lay beneath them,the grip tight enough to show tremors within her grasp. 

Multiple times she began to speak, struggling to form a word and essentially failing to do so. Releasing her hold to the sheets, she lifted her hands as her head fell into them. Vulnerable, in this moment she was entirely vulnerable and it was a state that was beyond her. “Vahalia does not know, she could not know this…” She chuckled, though it was obvious that it was out of frustration as it continued to grow further into an annoyed laugh. “Or perhaps she does and this entire thing has been a grand scheme between them all. Though I would certainly doubt so, what I do know of her I would imagine she wouldn’t have taken so kindly to this knowledge either.”  Her gaze was far off now as her fingers braided together to rest just at her lips, heading shaking softly. 

The letter in his hand was set aside, along with all the other pieces of parchment on the bed as he exhaled slowly, turning his focus to the woman next to him. “I would imagine, if she did know something would have been said prior to now…and I don’t know that there would be quite the paper trail either. Regardless…” He moved over so he would be in her line of sight, mindful not to get too close and not to impede on her space unless invited - he’d learned that lesson painfully well from another. “...telling you what you already knew wasn’t what you needed from me, was it, Cordelia? You have this information…but is this information alone enough?”

Looking back up to him, she scanned his features, almost as if the answer lay there within him somehow. “No…I-” She wet her lips yet again, struggling to keep her mouth from drying entirely, it was obvious she hadn’t slept. “I don’t know why, but I felt like I needed to tell you.” Her shoulders fell slightly, the ever pristine and elegant posture failing her in this moment. “But also, I wondered, outside of your…advice, and take this with the knowledge that I know it is a large ask, if you might help me learn more.”

“Better that I hear it from you than from some other source, to be quite frank.” His gaze met hers, the concern clear as he looked her over for a moment, moving away only long enough to neatly stack the various papers - the letters, and parchments all together and tucking them into the tome before turning back towards her. “What do you want to learn more about? What happened between Adrian Cress and your mother? Or what occurred between your ‘parents’ and your late husband…? What would you have of me, Cordelia? I need you to be clear in this…this is not the type of task I would be willing to hand off - this is something I will be seeing to personally.”

“All of it. Anything you can find.” She spoke abruptly, watching him gather all the items that had been sprawled out before them. “You…have no reservations about this?”

“I have plenty. You know my thoughts on dealing with the Cress family.” He knelt down, looking up at her carefully. “It seems the history of the Cress family is fraught with dangers and going around poking in those dangers is concerning, but it’s something I’m willing to do - if that’s what you’d have of me. Now…what do you know of this deal between your parents and your late husband? Just so I’ve an idea of where to start looking.” 

Her gaze followed him as he lowered, brows lifting curiously. She felt the word forming on her lips, curious as to why he was willing to do this now when he was so adamant to steer far away from the name Cress extensively. Opting to put that curiosity aside for the time being, Cordelia shook her head. “Not much, truthfully. All I know is that both heads of household relied on one another's businesses to function. Gray provided sourcing materials, Corvin handling production… though obviously that was just a front.” 

Ricard sighed heavily. “Indeed…but if they were ‘grounded’ in a business agreement, then that’s likely where I need to start looking. That, and in any correspondence between your late husband and your parents regarding arranging the marriage, particularly when they started speaking about the arrangement.” He frowned for a long moment. “Tell me, was it an abrupt arrangement - your marriage, or was it a long drawn out process?”

With a sigh, she turned to sit upon the edge of the bed, still finding herself wondering why he hadn’t simply done the same instead of kneeling to the floor. “The discussions were lengthy, but the decisions were abrupt and unexpected aside from the typical drone of needing to marry that you also understand. Our families had always worked together from what I had gathered but… I never thought to question where the marriage came from aside from what I assumed was the obvious.” 

“Then now might be the time to start asking where it came from and why it came about.” He stood before shifting over to sit next to her, lacing his hands together and letting them rest between his knees. “As you mentioned to me - there isn’t a child of a noble family within this city that doesn’t know the pressures of needing to marry, but how were their decisions abrupt and unexpected? Explain a bit more for me…”

Her fingers moved within her lap, thumb rubbing against the ring on her middle finger that constantly remained. “There were multiple suitors, options for choices, a choice that was out of my control, of course. Ambrose was at the top of the list in terms of options but he wasn’t initially their final pick. I knew he wanted there to be an agreement between us that my family’s business solely outsource to him but he really had little interest in the marriage as a part of that agreement originally.” She cleared her throat before continuing. “They changed their minds at the last minute.” Looking at him, a knowing and understanding in her gaze now washing over her. “That’s when he found out.”

“That would be a safe assumption - the question of how he came across the information still remains unanswered, and just how he utilized the information also remains up in the air…though,” he frowned, easily meeting her gaze, “-it’s not that difficult to garner a guess exactly how such information could be utilized in ‘negotiations’ to obtain both a business one wanted that might have originally been just out of reach and a wife in the process.”

He reached up, running a hand through his hair. “...Did your parents keep records of their meetings or discussions with potential suitors - or at the very least, with Ambrose?”  

“They kept records of everything but I’m not sure those exact details would be involved. The marriage contract detailed the signing over of the business titles to us as a married couple, instead of solely Ambrose. I suppose that was their way of attempting to keep it secure in some fashion.” Her toes tapped to the floor as she sat in thought before pushing from the bed and pacing. Hands rested on her hips as she walked the perimeter of the bed and then back, repeating it a few times as she spoke. “My father hated me, Ricard…well, my adopted father I suppose. He was so incredibly eager to be rid of me that he was willing to sign away the rights to his trade and secure simple financial lines to continue living. I never knew why.” 

Ricard shook his head and pushed away from the bed, walking over and setting his hands on her shoulders to stop her pacing. “Slow down, for just a minute, Cordelia - think this all the way through. I’ve no doubt  that your relationship with the man was as you said, but I find the idea that it would be so poor that the man would give away his company. We know that at some point, somehow, your late husband obtained the information regarding your lineage. We know that, even though he wasn’t their original choice for you - he was the final selection. And we know, that there were changes that seemed to be very abrupt. Could there be another explanation outside of your adoptive father’s dislike? I can think of at least one.”

The feeling of his hands on her shoulders brought a slight jump only out of surprise, though she calmed and stopped her pacing all the same. “If he knew of the affair and my true bloodline… Ambrose would have not hesitated to use it against my mother and father, he would have dug his heels in and threatened every form of blackmail at every opportunity, including involving Adrian Cress. If he wanted the business, and whatever else came of it, he would have done anything to secure it.  The snake he was… ”

“And I imagine, your parents would have wanted to submit to his requests, particularly if he was threatening to involve Adrian Cress…or any of the Cress family.” Satisfied that she wouldn’t immediately start to pace if he released her shoulders, he let his hands fall away. “Or it’s a good working theory. Now the trick is finding the information to actually back it up…surely Ambrose had a lovely hidden stash somewhere around here, hm?”

She waved a hand in the air, huffing a breath of air. “I’ve looked essentially everywhere in this house and up until last night I found nothing. There very well could be more there but it was in the middle of the night and..it was unexpected to say the least, to find. We could start there.” Cordelia closed her eyes, slowing her breathing even more. “What am I to do with this information once it is found if we are so lucky?”

“That, Cordelia, is the standing chocobo in the room. I’ll find the information, whether it’s tonight or in a few weeks. There’s always a trail, and with a clearer head and a good night's sleep, between the two of us I do believe we could find where your late husband might have stored his more sensitive documents. But what you choose to do with that information once we find it?” His voice trailed off as he took a small step closer, his gaze searching for hers.

“Do you march up to Cress manor and announce to Vahalia and Valeria that you’re their half-sister, and with paperwork in hand? Do you hold on to it to utilize at some ideal moment? Do you try to weaponize the name and circumstances, the way that it was weaponized against you? Information is versatile that way…” He hummed thoughtfully, the wheels in his head clearly turning as he watched her - eventually going quiet as he waited for her response.

“I don’t want to BE a Cress, Ricard.” Cordelia shook her head, turning her attention to look out the window nearby. It was slightly covered still by the curtains but light still shone in from the paned glass as a light snow fell just beyond it. “But as you said, this has its intricacies and is versatile in its uses, I will figure that out in time while we search for whatever it is we’re lacking. As for sleep, I’m unsure of how restful my nights will be.”

A tension left him that he hadn’t even realized was present to begin with as his gaze followed hers for a moment. “No one said you had to be. You are a Corvin and a Gray. Those are your documented, legal names. The Cress name - while I can find the information you want - can be buried under, connections never to be found again…if that’s what you want.” He exhaled slowly, closing his eyes, “...but, that’s not to say that it can’t be useful in and of itself. Much as I loath to admit it. That being said, none of this needs to be decided right now. You are still Cordelia Gray. You’ve simply discovered that your mother had more secrets than you knew and you already knew your late husband was a snake, you just have more information that confirms how much of a snake he was.”

Slowly she looked back to him, brows slightly furrowed. “And that is why he is dead and I have taken everything.” Cordelia stated firmly, beginning to piece together how ironic it was that Ambrose worked so hard to take over each business while taking her in the process only to have his actions be the beginning of his own downfall and demise in the end. “I don’t plan on showing any of my cards until I know the entire story. Not to Vahalia, certainly not to Damien. I just need to get my head straight first and have everything managed before then. It is hard to discern how either of them would react or what they would do and I’m not giving them any more power than I have to.” 

“Stop trying to find all of the answers right this second.” He grinned, it was easygoing, certainly the most relaxed he’d appeared since entering the room. “You don’t need to guess, or know how either one of them would react, certainly not right now. Right now we focus on identifying where some of this information might be located. I’ve some ideas within the city of where I can ask…discreetly, and after we’ve gotten you a bit more relaxed and your head a bit clearer then we start sorting through rooms to see if there’s anything within the estate here, or perhaps hidden within any business properties you have. And we go from there.” 

 He leaned in, playful grin shifting to a smirk for a moment, “And while I’m certainly not encouraging you to think ahead…wouldn’t it be something if little lord Gray thought he’d finally gotten one up on you by involving himself with the Cress House, only to discover that you were part of the House all along? Imagine the surprise….” He trailed his tongue across one of his canines easily as he straightened up with a small shrug of one shoulder. There was…potential there, to be sure.

“Despite seeing your point on that avenue, I also see a weak spot where he can come in and claim bastard on me.” 

“When we’ll potentially have evidence of his brother blackmailing your family? Ambrose knew you were a ‘bastard’ and married you - a legally binding contract - anyway, leveraging the fact that your father was Adrian Cress to get what he wanted. Don’t misunderstand me - this would all need to be planned carefully, and I wouldn’t suggest letting it slip without making sure that all our…informational ducks are in a row.”

Cordelia allowed her head to tilt downward, a sigh escaping her slightly parted lips before she nodded once to herself. “You’re right. I can’t dwell on the possibilities of all the negatives, there are angles and options to leverage here. We start back in the room where I found the other documents and go from there, then.” 

A hand reached out and gently, Ricard lifted her chin with two fingers, tilting her face up towards him. “There are more angles and options than we realize. We just have to give ourselves the opportunity to see them. Right now we’re focused on one aspect of this puzzle, we need to step back and take a look at the whole thing and let it all come into view.” He brushed a few stray hairs away from her face before he let his hand fall away. “Do not forget for one moment as we search, or as I do my research, you hold the cards, Cordelia…you have the power in this scenario. No one else.” 

She took an odd and unexpected comfort with this touch, the mere fact of his presence offered her something. Cordelia hadn’t anticipated the timely arrival from him, she hadn’t even asked for an abrupt response but here he was and while the web between all parties involved in their atmosphere was tangled and strained, Cordelia found herself thankful for Ricard surprisingly. “I suppose we both got a little more than we bargained for when putting the discussion of my parents on the back burner at the Starlight soirée…”

“I imagine the conversation we would have had then, compared to now, would have been very different indeed.” He had no reason to be as invested in this situation as he was. He had no reason to be offering the reassurances, the attempts to ground her, the gentle reminders - none of that was in the scope of the job he was expected to do. And yet here he was, compelled to do these things, concerned for her wellbeing as much if not more than he was for finding the information. “Have you gotten any rest, Cordelia?”

“I’m fine.” She stated simply tilting her head gently away from his touch with a soft breath. It was then that it dawned on her that she must have looked like a mess, in her nightgown with her hair falling loose from her braid as if she had just woken up. “By the Twelve… I should get myself together.” Taking a sharp inhale, she moved to stand in front of her vanity, looking in the mirror as she attempted to tame the raven locks. “Then I can get started going through the rest of the documents, I will bring you whatever I find, if that is suitable?” 

“I can assist in looking, if you’d like…” He shifted, watching her move over to her vanity with no small amount of concern - unconvinced that she was as ‘fine’ as she claimed to be. “What do you need of me, currently then? How can I best be of service?”

When she was pleased enough with the state of her hair, she turned back to Ricard and nodded. “I assume that you might know more than I exactly what we’re looking for, so if you are willing to stay then I would appreciate the aid. As long as it is not impeding on the rest of your work, of course.” 

“I’ve cleared my schedule for the day, and informed my father not to expect me in the office. The rest of my work is not a concern. My time and attention are yours, Cordelia. Simply point me in the direction of where you located these documents and we can begin to search in earnest.” His easy grin returned. “And we will find what we’re looking for…I assure you of that..”

“Now…” he took his time, unbuttoning the cuffs of his sleeves and rolling them up to his mid forearm, his jacket having been taken at the door when he entered. “…let’s find where dear ol’ Ambrose kept all his dirty little secrets, shall we?” He offered a quick wink before moving for the door.

[ Collab with @ricard-blythe-ffxiv

Mentions : @vahalia-cress-ffxiv @damien-gray-ffxiv

@sanguinecourt-ffxiv ]

[theriu]

Presenting the Mythic Expert (M.E.) from my Mythical How To Guides!

I found an old pose in my sketchbook from an earlier attempt to draw her, so I decided to fill it out with her adventuring garb. Then I did something I’ve literally NEVER done before: designing alternate outfits! Now let’s have some fun and break these down :D

On The Job

This is her super geared-up adventuring garb; she dresses like this for official gigs or when she knows she’ll be dealing with dangerous mythics. It tends to get a bit warm, but better warm than dead! (And an extra jacket tied around her waist for the even colder regions! Or in case she needs to throw it over somebody’s head.)

I wanted to give her a mix of modern clothes and classic adventuring gear to represent the mix of classic myths/folklore and the modern-day setting. She has a few magic tools, like some health potions, a few fae artifacts, etc. but mostly normal human gear. She carries misc. useful items in her backpack and pockets or just tied onto things.

Despite dealing with dangerous mythics, she dislikes fighting, preferring diplomacy and trickery. She’s not particularly violent regardless, but it’s also illegal (except in defense of self or others from imminent peril) to slay mythics. (You can do citizen’s arrests, though.) She is handy with a short sword and her staff, however! The wizard gem probably has a stun effect on contact. And she can run pretty dang fast.

Casual Warm

Here’s an everyday summer outfit! She typically wears normal-looking sneakers and clothes comfortable for moving quickly. However, an M.E. is always prepared, so she keeps misc. handy items on her in the fanny pack, and bracelets (paracord, magic detection, slingshot elastic, iron), a hidden necklace (emergency health potion), mirrored sunglasses, etc. When you gain a reputation as a Mythic Expert (even a good one), it can lead to awkward encounters. Or inserting yourself into awkward encounters because they’re less awkward for you than for other people.

Casual Cool

Here we see the adventurer actually wearing her jacket! I decided she tries to have eye protection on her at all times, particularly mirrored lenses because gorgons and basilisks and hypnotizing mythics. Her purse is based on a real satchel I have where the strap is a belt a convention artist decorated with real glass vials holding tiny flowers! :D So basically, she always has eye protection, close-toed shoes, and a carrying bag of some kind, plus a few handy doodads hidden about her person. :D

I’d probably also need to make a more civil uniform for her to wear in situations like the Dryad Guide. But yeah, there we go! Hope you enjoyed that foray into my Mythic Expert, who is definitely based on me in style if not in actual skillset XD (I WISH I were that athletic and quick-thinking IRL.)