#Of course he's a paladin of helm

[hugcollector]

the way Zevlor calls Tilses "Tilly" when he reminds her that they're civilians now and shouldn't be readying for fights is so adorable I can't even... so warm and gentle

[sbeep]

can you tell us more about your good durge? Also does he have like hidden scars? he looks like a guy who got his heart littterely ripped out once.. idk hes got those vibes about him

Yeah!! Oh boy, Sam has plenty of scars. He needs to be run under a cold tap, he'd been through it.

Cut for Dark Urge details/spoilers and plenty of headcanon. Canon-typical violence and mind-fuckery ahoy.

Sammeth was raised and trained as a paladin of Helm, a steadfast and doggedly lawful deity, and from his youth the paladin elders knew something was Wrong with this squire. Instead of doing anything about it, they stoked his religious zeal and rigid beliefs until his Bhaalspawn nature was forced to surface as a distinct personality, a separate part of him. So those blackouts Durge experiences in the course of the game- Sam experienced those through his adult life.

The authority and literal armour of a paladin of Helm was a very convenient and rotten place for Bhaal's chosen to abide. Through Sam's rough and violent life as a paladin it seemed only natural he'd gain scars he didn't remember, or find specks of blood that weren't his. These separate parts of himself only began to merge and conflict after Orin's attack and the tadpole wormed its way into his head.

The big scar on his face is from being smashed with a mace- he doesn't remember the incident, only waking up in an infirmary under the care of some very skilled Ilmater healers.

The tattoos he got in service to helm, a sword on his throat for his vengeance and oath of watchfulness, and a gauntlet over his own hand and forearm so he can never shed Helm's armour or hide from his gaze.

He resists Bhaal's influence as strongly as he can through the timeline of BG3, as his memories of his nights as Bhaal's chosen and days as a dutiful paladin collide and fight it out for his moral core.

As a little PS, Sam doesn't seek out any new tattoos or marks after his ressurection and re-dedication to Jergal- the only god who's ever really rewarded him for his trials or shown him faith in return. His new life is enough, he's a walking, talking oath to the proper order of life and death.

[finnfrei]

Hope you don't mind me asking again of your bard and her dragonborn? 😅

It’s getting hard to refuse a chance to rant about them, especially now as we have finished the campaign🌝

I keep thinking about this one scene after Clio got back from an adventure that almost became the party’s last one. They got to meet the gods of their realm or those who claimed to be ones. One of them turned out to be her sister’s patron, the other unwillingly caused vivid nightmares that were haunting Clio for more than five years reminding her about the assault she and her sister barely survived. Our oathbreaker paladin also had a time of his life meeting the god he used to serve. The party almost died there trying to prevent the destruction of their civilisation and death of everyone they love along with it. Her sister did die in a way there.

After killing some gods and saving the world, learning and surviving things she couldn’t even begin to comprehend, Clio got back home to the Iron City. She stormed to an ongoing council meeting in an iconic Aragorn at Helm’s Deep fashion, telling the story about what they’ve been through, explaining the recent global calamity and how they’ve managed to stop it. The utter awe on faces of other members of the council, including Hescan’s, brought bard the satisfaction she was seeking. Clio couldn’t quite grasp it but something was different about the way her chief looked at her. Last time she saw him he told her he was falling deep for her… or it was just a fever she had then, she couldn’t tell, she wasn’t sure. The man she was talking to through the communication ring during the adventure seemed to be the same unbothered and cold Dragonborn she knows for a few years now. Something shifted and for the first time she felt her hands sweating in his presence.

…

“I could’ve actually lost you this time,” he said in a quieter voice when they were finally alone and she noticed the slight shiver in chief’s voice. Clio’s heart clenched in her chest, he meant it. He worried about her.

That evening and the night that came after he was gentle, caring. That was new. Of course, he always made sure not to hurt her, unless she wanted to, but he never really expressed his affection like that. Not that it was unpleasant, it surprised and puzzled her.

…

“I was thinking…” he stumbled during a pillow talk a few hours later, “you know…maybe we should start spending more time together?”. She could’ve sworn she saw a blush coming through those emerald scales of his.

“I need to talk to you,” she sighed feeling tense and set up on the edge of the bed.

Hescan stood up, got around the bed, poured and passed a goblet of wine to the girl also taking one for himself.

“You know,” she started, “I believed my twin was dead there for some time. We had a huge fight right before that. All I could think about were things I should’ve told her or done and would never get a chance to.��

Hescan set quietly on his knees on the floor across from his little spy and was looking up at Clio as she proceeded, “And then I thought, what if we fail the whole “world saving” thing and I will never get to see you again. There’re things I regret I haven’t told you.” she stopped, trying to regain composure, “I have met someone,” she said avoiding looking at him at first, “He’s wonderful. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so safe and peaceful with anyone before.”

She could see the tension, anger and confusion building in his face.

“I feel seen. He looked into me and managed to bring back the girl even I believed was long gone, hiding under the myriad of different masks. He listens and he hears every word I say,” she smiles feeling already embarrassed of what she’s going to say next, “And despite all the common sense, I… I trust him.”

“What…” Hescan utters quietly, breaking the silence that filled the room. The look of anger, pain and the sticky feeling of betrayal washing over him.

“I trust him,” she repeats, “and I trust him my heart. I trust he will take good care of it.” Clio reaches with her hand and gently touches Dragonborn’s chest over his heart as she asks softly, “You will take care of it for me, wouldn’t you?”

The girl was waiting for a moment, watching as the anger on Hescan’s face changed to confusion and then the sparkle in his eyes as he glanced back at her when realisation finally hit him.

“I’m going to kill you!” he growled as he pounced at her, pushing her back on the soft bed. The girl giggled in his strong embrace, feeling the pressure of his body over hers.

“I need to hear it, my heart” she pleaded, pushing him away just enough to look him in the eyes.

He smiled softly and whispered, “I love you.” as he gently bit the arch of her neck, “you’re safe,” he followed with a kiss.

[viablemess]

Gale's Childhood + Mystra

I just have some thoughts and need to articulate them because they will not leave my brain alone at all and I cannot think about much else. Feel free to sit down and join me as I word vomit how I imagine Gale’s childhood went. I did not edit this or proof read it at all, so bear with any grammar/spelling/flow mistakes please!

So, Gale’s mother is Morena Dekarios, we know that. She’s an angel, an icon, and she cares so much, and she is wicked smart. I also headcanon that she is a high quality escort in the City of Splendors, and so grew up knowing how to please people and blend in with high society in any way she can. So, she raised Gale right. She told him about what she did, never hid anything from him, and would bend over backwards to ensure that her son was happy, healthy, and cared for. Because she had to blend in with high society, she had so many books, and art pieces, and high quality alcohol and clothes all over her house. Gale grew up around these, and absorbed it all with ease, and Morena thought that was fantastic. She frequently sent him to school whenever she had to work even if he had already spent the entire day there because she knew he would be safe and looked after, because his dad was not around to look after him.

Speaking of his dad, let’s talk about Waterdeep politics for a moment, shall we? We will circle back to Gale’s parentage. Waterdeep is ruled by a council of 16 Lords, all of whom are anonymous. Whenever they are ruling in public, they use magical masks called the Lord’s Helm that hides their identities. A common game in Waterdeep is to identify the Lords and figure out the rumors that float around about them. The Lords actually start most of their own rumors, though, so these can be easily misleading. Because the Lords elect the other Lords via anonymous vote, it is difficult for the Lords to even know who is who, but they do know their names, and so they have more information. So, while the Lords are frequently protected from assassination / bribes / stalking / lobbying from the public, they are not as always well protected from each other, so the secrecy is still important, and caution is warranted. I imagine some of the Lords take this very seriously, and value the job over forming families or bonds, so high quality well-to-do escorts like Morena are highly sought after.

Now, back to Gale’s father. So, Morena is an escort for a Lord, one thing leads to another, some mistakes are made, and Morena gets pregnant which was definitely not the goal, but she can’t tell anyone she is pregnant with a Lord’s child, so she just pretends the child’s father is another client and moves on. So, if the Lord happens to be a (maybe red) wizard/cleric/paladin of Mystra… who is to say? If this Lord happens to be highly talented and magically inclined (or magically manipulated) who would ever know? Gale starts showing magical inclinations in the womb. Morena’s 9 months of pregnancy are absolutely hell. She isn’t ready for a child, but she isn’t not ready, either. So, she gets shit done and gets ready. She talks to the local Blackstaff Academy and seeks help and these teachers are /interested/ because rarely does anyone show magical talents in the womb and they are here to support her and more importantly here to teach this would-be-prodigy.

Morena is wealthy, so she can pay for private tutors and Gale shows magical abilities akin to a teen when he is a child, and so she fanes those (sometimes literal) flames. She knows her son’s child is powerful, and so Gale must be powerful, too. She loves him, and fully enables him to make his own decisions, but he is /good/ at magic and a child. He likes being good at things, and so of course he follows his talents naturally. So much so, in fact, that when he accidentally sets off a fireball trying to pick his mom some roses with a mage hand, Elminster shows right up. He had been watching Gale, after all. Mystra had told him to. Mystra had told him to watch Morena when she was pregnant, too, because Mystra knew what would happen. Mystra willed this to happen, and neither Morena nor Gale are any wiser about it.

“I wanted to give my mum something pretty,” tiny Gale had said, tears in his eyes and chubby cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry! I thought the roses were pretty, like sunsets are pretty, and I must have thought of the fire of a sunset by accident and—and—please don’t get mad at me.”

Because if there is one thing that Morena did instill in Gale other than politeness, a love for the finer things in life, and a sense of ambition (heh, ouch), it was to be respectful of authority, because Morena isn’t stupid. If a Lord could use another Lord’s child against them, they would, no hesitation. So, Gale is taught to be a good, rule-abiding little boy who has a healthy caution of leadership but mostly knows how to smile and nod and keep his head down. And Elminister, while not masked, gives off waves of authority, so Gale aims to please and keep his head down.

Elminster smiles. Gale clutches Morena’s skirt and hides behind her and Morena glares at Elminster as if daring him to do something. Elminster puts out the fire with a wave of his hand, and introduces himself. “I’ve been keeping an eye on your talents, Gale Dekarios. You’re so talented, but you do not know where to aim your talents. May I help you?”

Morena knows who Elminster is, she has heard the rumors. She does not know he is Mystra’s chosen (Morena knows Elminster to discuss grandiose tales with her clients, not to study magic or doctrine) or his relationship with Mystra at all. Morena frequently says, only in private and after a few glasses of wine, that the Gods can fuck right off because they were no help to her, she helped /herself/ thank you very much, so she does not know. She just sees this powerful and well-known figure who might be able to help her protect her son from his dad who is maybe still a Lord, and says yes.

Gale’s private study with Elminster goes on for a few years before Mystra gets involved when he turns 11. He excels, he goes to Blackstaff as one of the youngest students ever, and his classmates hate him. He is too good, too favored, too young. He does not have to try, as if he is blessed, and Gale does not understand why his classmates hate him. He’s studying just like they are, just many years ahead. He is young just like them, but a few years more. He has a favorite teacher in the form of Elminster, just like his classmates have their own favorites who actually are teachers at the academy and not a rumored hero of Faerun. His experience is close enough for Gale to not understand why his situation is unique, and why his peers hate him for it. So, he asks for a cat. Cats are nice and soft and hiss at people who they do not like, and Gale always had a hard time saying when he didn’t like someone so maybe the cat would do it for him. But Gale needed to focus on his studies, and cats couldn’t live with students at Blackstaff, so everyone tells him, respectfully, no. Gale keeps trying to make friends, and keeps failing, and he finally says “fine I’ll summon my own friend!” and summons Tara, which is an impressive feat, and within a single hour Tara says “fuck everyone this human is /mine/ and no one can tell me otherwise.” People try to banish Tara away, and she always comes back, but only for Gale, and sometimes for Morena.

Everyone knows Gale is talented, but it is not until he casually wields the Blackstaff entirely by accident that everyone realized how much so. The staff molds to his hand, and flutters in his direction ever since he picked it up. The school is furious, and Gale does not understand, because does that not mean that he is good at what he studies? He doesn’t understand it means he is a threat, he is too good, he is too strong, and some people would rather eradicate him than educate him.

One of the requirements for students at Blackstaff is survival training. The students are released into nature and told to fend for themselves, summon food and water or use their magic to otherwise make some, to create shelter, to prove that in practice they can manage a bad situation. The teachers are nearby, of course, to help should something go wrong. However, at this point, teachers feel one of two ways about Gale Dekarios, and that sometimes is a help but frequently is a hinderance. These teachers see this child, and can easily understand that one day he will be a threat to their jobs, their research, their theories. He’s just that good. And some of the teachers get together to make this test akin to the hells for Gale, and he goes off by himself. Waterdeep is surrounded by beautiful golden beaches and stalagmite caves, which are beautiful blessings during the tourist times of year. They are deathtraps during high tide, and the teachers know this, and so does Mystra.

It's pouring by the end of the first day, and Gale does not know where to go. He can heat his closes, and summon food and water, but he is aware of the fact that magical exhaustion is a thing, and that he cannot keep himself dry and warm constantly with magic for the duration of the test. So, when he sees a rainbow will-o-whisp that feels safe, he follows it into the cave. Mystra leads Gale into a shallow grave planted by the Blackstaff teachers, and watches him almost drown. The teachers would have let him drown. They would have let this eleven year old boy get grabbed by the rushing water and dragged to the bottom of a sharply pointed, mud filled cave. At the bottom of that cave is a large hollow tree trunk, and the teachers would have waited for tide season to end, and eventually drug Gale’s tiny corpse out of where it was wrangled around the smooth wood, where Gale had tried to hold in and climb out feebly, crushed by the weight of the water overhead, until the calmness of unconsciousness met him.  

Drowning was calm, for Gale, at first. It was calmest when the rainbow will-o-whisp appeared again, a single speck of bright light in the murky darkness, his eyes stinging with water, his chest and stomach throbbing for oxygen. Drowning was calm, as he felt warm arms wrap around him, and felt the water get expelled from the hollow tree. Gale felt the weave rid his lungs of water and dry him off and warm him. Mystra lead Gale to his death just so she could save him, and so easily, Mystra became an exception to Gale’s distrust of authority, because she taught Elminster. She was the very rush of security and rose and love that Gale felt every time he channeled the weave. Mystra was magic—what Gale was good at, what made Gale who he is, what Gale loved. So how could he not love his savior? His muse? Mystra welcomed him into her hollow tree and taught him of Her. Her world. Her gifts. Her abilities. The three days of the test passed in a blink, and Gale emerged from the cave tinged with blue and white and the teachers who sent Gale to die heard Mystra’s laugh in their ears.

Mystra had staked her claim on Gale, and everyone knew it. Everyone had suspected it, when Elminster kept showing up, but now they had proof. Gale’s magic was sprinkled with starlight, brilliant blue and white and purple of Mystra. Gale vanished in his dreams to visit Mystra in her domain, and she continued to teach him everything that the teachers couldn’t or wouldn’t. The teachers who tried to kill him snapped to attention and did everything they could to help Gale, then, because to not would be to betray the Weave itself.

Gale went back to the hollow tree when he was about to graduate and the tide lowered, and met Mystra again. She took a more physical form, then. She guided his hands and arms as she taught him magic, and she kissed him on the forehead. She whispered, “my child, my star, my boy, my prodigy,” and Gale fell further and further under her spell. The Blackstaff Academy had graduation ceremonies where everyone would dance and celebrate their victories with one another. Morena was so, so proud. A few Lords showed up to congratulate the students, and check on the fresh talent. Gale was the equivalent of the valedictorian, and when he danced with himself, the more learned students and the teachers and Tara could see the strings of Mystra’s weave manipulating his movements like a marionette until they were perfect. Because he was her’s, and she would settle for nothing but the best.

[kismetconstellations]

Shiro from Voltron for the character ask game

To spare my poor followers' dashboards a massive wall of text, my answers will be found behind the cut. Let's regroup there, shall we?

1. Why do you like or dislike this character?

I love Shiro because he demonstrates so perfectly that a person's trauma does not have to define them. No matter what kind of Hell they've been subjected to, they always have the option to remain gentle, compassionate, and kind. Even when they're afraid. Even when they believe themselves to be "broken", or monstrous because of what they had to do to survive.

One can rise above attempts to break them, and be so much more than the people who mistreated them tried to force them to be.

2. Favorite canon thing about this character?

His personality. Even when he isn't being everything that epitomizes a true hero- brave, selfless, strong-willed, empathetic, always looking after others and willing to risk his life for them at the drop of a hat- he's so much fun to watch. From his moments of tired, resigned irritation and bemusement with others' antics,

to his quiet fascination with Altean technology and concepts, like water pouches and their time measurement system,

to the moments where he's just a great big dorky sweetheart.

People who think he's "boring" because he's a workaholic soldier who isn't as inclined to shenanigans and over the top reactions as his younger comrades aren't paying attention. He's an extremely dynamic, multi-faceted character just begging to be explored by someone who loves him and all of his depth and multitudes.

3. Least favorite canon thing about this character?

How he's handled by the team of inept showrunners who helmed this messy disaster of a cartoon.

He has no real support system, something I can only imagine is due to him being the commanding officer to a group of teenagers he can't truly confide in, and the intention to have him fill a Doomed Mentor role, despite him being inadvertently written as The Chosen One. His biological family is virtually non-existent. The only other proper adult he could look to for advice is the designated comic relief. There were opportunities for him to be taken in by the Holts, given their mutual fondness for each other, or even Allura and Coran. Allura and Shiro seemed to have developed an even stronger bond (offscreen, of course) after she saved his life.

(I have a theory that Allura's quintessence alchemy altered Shiro's DNA, which is why his new arm could only be safely powered by the Balmeran crystal from Allura's tiara, and the Atlas, similarly powered by Altean magic, responds to Shiro and Shiro alone, establishing a mental link with him the same way Allura had with the Castle of Lions. But, that's for another unhinged essay.)

And, when Coran confronts Iverson about strapping Shiro to a table in the pilot, he refers to Shiro as "our Shiro".

But, neither of these avenues were ever explored, as Shiro was "retired" and relegated to side-character status, leaving him isolated from everyone, including his best friend who loves him.

The ableism surrounding his disability is disgusting. He's a forced amputee twice over. He spends most of an entire season standing mute on the sidelines without a right arm, and there's absolutely no acknowledgement of his missing limb, that his best friend is the reason why it's gone, or inquiries into how being rendered effectively "useless" after coming back from the dead is affecting Shiro's already poor mental health.

(Does Shiro sleep? Does he have pajamas he can even change into, or is he supposed to wear the Black Paladin armor the entire trip back to Earth? Is he able to shower with that stump, or does it pose an electrocution hazard if it comes into contact with water? Is there anything available for him to do so he isn't standing silently around, losing his mind?)

His best friend's mother tells him to stay out of a fight, and he meekly accepts the order, never making another attempt to be anything other than a helpless bystander until he's been outfitted with a new arm that he, once again, has no say in the design of. An arm that is bulky and over-sized, impractical, likely extremely uncomfortable, and sickeningly mirrors his abuser's.

The same abuser who filled his head with taunts about his previous prosthetic being the "strongest part" of him, and the same abuser who tortured him and is implied to have raped him.

An ally tells him that he would be stronger with "two robotic arms", almost mocking the fact that Shiro's right arm was deliberately taken from him to be replaced by a weapon. And, this is never called out or questioned.

A punch that he lands on his abuser with his organic fist only incites a mocking sneer before Shiro is flung across the body of the ship that they're fighting on like a ragdoll.

After being made to feel washed-up and old at twenty-six, Shiro participates in an arm-wrestling tournament that he wins-- using the ill-proportioned prosthetic modeled after his abuser's.

I don't know if there was no one on the staff who was aware of the vile implications in this handling of a disabled character, but when one considers the similar grotesque handling of intense trauma and passive suicidal ideation... It doesn't exactly paint a pretty picture of the ideas and beliefs that went into the writing on this show.

4. If you could put this character in any other media, be it a book, a movie, anything, what would you put them in?

This is so silly and indulgent, but... What immediately comes to mind is, instead of him dying in the second season's finale and spending four entire seasons helplessly roaming and languishing on the Astral Plane, I would have him magically transported to the beach episode of a slice of life anime.

He would get to play volleyball with and be fawned over by a bunch of pretty, shirtless men with glistening, sun-kissed skin. As he deserves. ( ᵘ ᵕ ᵘ ⁎)

5. What’s the first song that comes to mind when you think about them?

"Lazarus Drug", by Meg Washington. Longtime followers of my silly little blog might be aware of my love for Bluey, which is how I was introduced to this gorgeous piece of music. It was used to masterful effect in the twenty-eight minute special episode, The Sign.

When I was struggling to come up with a title for my Shiro-centric character study/fix-it fic, "Lazarus Drug" proved to be a lifesaver.

"And when I hear you calling, Like you were always there, I rise until I'm hanging in the Middle of the air

And when I hear you calling, I split like I'm a snake With golden light like fingers And, then I start to break

Into a billion pieces Oh, I shatter into constellations Like I've never been more here Like I completely disappear

I'm nothingness, but shining And everywhere at once I'm everything and everyone Who is or ever was."

6. What’s something you have in common with this character?

Less than stellar mental health as a result of trauma.

7. What’s something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you like?

There are so many jaw-droppingly stunning and breathtaking pieces of Shiro fan art out there. I also greatly appreciate fanfics, meta, and analyses that take all of his trauma and his disability, and how they would realistically impact his daily life, into account.

Christening him "The Unkillable Gay", and "Gay God", is also pretty darned fantastic.

8. What’s something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you despise?

Dark Shiro, Shiro-bashing (usually in tandem with Allura-bashing), sidelining him due to ageism, ignoring his canon sexuality to give Keith reason to angst over Shiro not accepting him in K/L fics, minimizing Shiro's role in Keith's life to focus on their preferred ship, having Shiro adopt or be biologically related to Keith, especially if Adam is co-parenting and Keith has more of a bond with him than Shiro (it's pretty obvious why certain shippers do this), depicting him as high-libido and sexually aggressive/an Alpha/dominant/top, even more so when he gets off on being called "daddy", expressing a belief that he should have stayed dead in service of Keith's character, treating him and his clone as the same person... Just to name a few.

9. Could you be roommates with this character?

I don't see why not.

10. Could you be best friends with this character?

I'd love to think that I could be. But, realistically, I'd be too nervous to ever approach him and strike up a conversation. >////<'

11. Would you date this character?

Though he is undeniably gorgeous, we are romantically incompatible, I'm afraid.

12. What’s a headcanon you have for this character?

Shiro moved to the United States with his grandfather in late childhood, between the ages of eight and ten. That's why he speaks perfect English with no trace of an accent.

13. What’s an emoji, an emoticon and/or any symbol that reminds you of this character or you think the character would use a lot?

☆

14. Assign a fashion aesthetic to this character.

Classic Hollywood pilot aesthetic; aviation jacket with (faux) fur lining, patches on the sleeve, and a tight t-shirt or tank top underneath, sometimes with aviator sunglasses folded over the collar or worn over his eyes, military dog tags around his neck, the sort of clingy, curve-flattering pants that he canonically favors, and knee-high combat boots. Scarf is optional.

I also love a soft formal look on him. Crisp dress shirt and tie with a vest over top, perfectly tailored slacks, and shiny black loafers.

15. What’s your favorite ship for this character? (Doesn’t matter if it’s canon or not.)

I'm going to go with Shiro/Keith, though I very much have a fondness for Shiro/Hunk, as well.

Keith's devotion to Shiro is exactly the level of devotion that Shiro deserves, though Keith could stand to tone the intensity of it down just a tad. His willingness to throw his life away for Shiro would be a massive source of anxiety for Shiro, and something they'd have to discuss, among many other topics, before entering a serious romantic relationship.

And, Hunk is such a sweetheart, he'd spoil and pamper Shiro in all of the best ways. When he's of legal consenting age, of course.

(I also may or may not crack-ship him with Sven.)

16. What’s your least favorite ship for this character?

Romantic Shiro/Pidge, and Shiro/Sendak. An adult gay man and a female child, and a trauma survivor and his personal tormentor is a great big "no thanks" for me.

17. What’s a ship for this character you don’t hate but it’s not your favorite that you’re fine with?

Shiro/Lance, and Shiro/Matt. I prefer Shiro and Matt as friends, and overexposure to Lance thanks to a hyper-zealous fanbase has done a fairly good job of putting me off of him. Which sucks, because I genuinely like him just fine in the show, itself. I don't mind either ship, and have read fic for them. They're just not prospects for Shiro that I ever seriously entertain.

18. How about a relationship they have in canon with another character that you admire?

I love Shiro and Pidge's relationship in the early episodes. The way he is so gentle, encouraging, and protective with her, basically becoming a second older brother, and how she comes to trust and rely on him as a confidante, enough that she personally seeks him out to tell him that she plans to leave the team to search for her father and brother, knowing he will understand, stole my heart almost immediately, and stole it hard.

It's incredibly disheartening that, after his resurrection, we only get tidbits and table scraps of that relationship.

Why did Shiro start riding with her in the Green Lion on the journey back to Earth? Who knows? The writers certainly weren't going to tell us, because Shiro was so thoroughly a side-character, by that point, he and Pidge- if I'm recalling correctly- only talked to each other onscreen one time.

Never forget what they took from us.

(Also ignore that they forgot to draw Shiro's scar.)

19. How about a relationship they have in canon that you don’t like?

No offense to Mr. Set-Dressing, but there is nothing that points to these characters having any sort of even platonic relationship, let alone the kind of chemistry that would lead to a marriage a few years down the line. They never address each other by name, or at all, when they're not exchanging commands in the heat of battle. "Curtis" has more personal interaction with Acxa. And, I swear Shiro only looks away from the console on the Atlas's bridge to physically acknowledge this man once.

The animators certainly did poor "Curtis" no favors, either, by making him look like a sad, pathetic older man who couldn't lift or dip his strapping younger groom on their wedding day.

20. Which other character is the ideal best friend for this character, the amount of screentime they share doesn’t matter?

I adore the idea of Shiro and Allura as best friends, and would have loved to have seen some genuine interaction between the Real Shiro and Matt, after Shiro attacked Matt to save his life. Alas...

21. If you’re a fic writer and have written for this character, what’s your favorite thing to do when you’re writing for this character? What’s something you don’t like?

I've only very recently started writing for Shiro, and don't see myself doing much more than the aforementioned character study/fix-it fic. That said, I love getting into his head to really flesh him out, his psychology, his illness, his failed relationship, his experience in captivity, and using the members of his found family as conduits for him to realize just how special and good to his core he truly is. Like what should have happened in canon.

I don't like writing about him suffering, but part of recovering from trauma is processing it. And, processing often involves reliving the traumatic event as you walk a trusted friend, loved one, or mental health professional through it in the hopes that they will then offer you the greatly needed comfort and support and skills to cope that you didn't have, at the time it occurred.

22. If you’re a fic reader, what’s something you like in fics when it comes to this character? Something you don’t like?

I love in-character portrayals of Shiro in Hurt/Comfort settings that address the sheer magnitude of his trauma, and emphasize how unfailingly brave, strong, compassionate, and altruistic in spite of it all that he has always been and always will be.

I'm not a fan of him being treated like he's "oblivious", or "emotionally constipated" for not immediately acting on an Anguished Declaration of Love that Keith gave to "Kuron", and prefaced with, "You're my brother".

And, I've covered before, in detail, how much it irks and baffles me when Lance fans give Lance traits distinct and exclusive to Shiro in an effort to try to turn him into Shiro, instead of accepting him as he is.

23. Favorite picture of this character?

Tough call, since there are so many, but, I do think this one is the winner:

I love that, despite his strong jaw, his features are so gentle and soft, and the silver hair truly lends him an ethereal quality. That arm is ghastly, but it doesn't detract from just how pretty Shiro is, and how much that Admiral coat flatters him.

24. What other character from another fandom of yours that reminds you of them?

I don't participate in the fandom at all, but I've carried a torch for Leonardo from the 2003 incarnation of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles since the show was still actively airing and in production. There are so many similarities between Shiro and 2003 Leo that one could almost say there's a specific type of character that I'm drawn to like gravity hurtling a ship into a planet with a crash-landing imminent and the projected number of casualties astronomical.

25. What was your first impression of this character? How about now?

My first impression of Shiro, when I watched the pilot and second episode back in 2016, was that he was my favorite character of the lot. I was drawn to him for all of the reasons stated above. But, once I became aware of the online fandom drama, I backed off, only watching three more episodes (A Little Adventure and Lions' Pride I and II) in 2018 for Shiro/Keith shipping reasons before becoming a lurker on the peripheral, exploring fanmade content without engaging with the show, itself. It wasn't until earlier this year that I finally grit my teeth, braced myself, and committed to watching at least the seasons where the Real Shiro is featured in full.

I both immensely regret that decision for the sheer levels of frustration, fury, and deeply-rooted sadness at all of the wasted potential that I opened myself up to, and don't regret it at all. Because, I sincerely love Shiro and wish with all of my heart that he, and especially Allura and Coran and even Hunk, were handled by infinitely better writers in an infinitely better show.

----

Thank you so very, very much for asking! ❤

[ohsayit]

Zevlor the Stubborn Cow

I wanted to write some AA, but my brain wouldn't shut up about Zevlor. I am sorry, but, here, take this [hands out a fresh load of gibberish]

My brain has been thinking about him breaking(losing?) his oath and how does that work in DnD. As per usual, a quick Google will give me a mixed result of pre 5E, 5E, and BG3 world. So I am going to do my pick-and-choose.

Again, it's related to Act 2 spoilers. Feel free to take a look at the video or my other gibberish post.

I don't have any save close to Last Light, so I youtube searched for the conversation with tieflings there. I found two conversation with the same scout. This one is before rescuing Zevlor. This one is after the player rescued him.

From the outside, to Zevlor's fellow exiles, he looked like he froze and then broke. They wouldn't forgive him for breaking that image of "Commander Zevlor". They also wouldn't forgive him for leading them to death (which imo is hardly his fault).

I have been digging at the FR wiki. I looked up Hellrider, Helm, Ilmater, paladin, and oathbreaker. This round of digging (plus the pick and choose) give me some painful hc's.

Despite we as player can just "choose" what class to play as, paladin isn't as common as we may feel like.

First HC at this point: Zevlor wanted to do good from a young age. He looked up at Hellriders and dreamed to enlist. He made it. Through sweat and blood, he climbed up to the position of Commander. Hard to say how religious he is, but he adhered to his oath at least till Avernus. I believe the patron deity was Helm: the god of guardians and protectors. Which this says the nature of Zevlor's character: he lives to protect.

According to wiki, paladins are not that common because their religious nature. They require a patron deity, an oath, and devine favour. Gods favour those think and act like them. Gods favour those who are exceptional to be their champion. Zevlor was just that good.

So here is my second HC: the things he lost and his feeling of lost is unfathomable. He that lost his people in Avernus, his home where he belonged to, his pride as a Hellrider (it was stripped off him), and the devine favour of power (my HC is he lost it around the time when Elturel came back to the Material Plane. Latest by the time he was exiled). He lost "Zevlor".

If there are other tiefling paladins, they probably feel him. If someone is close to him but not a paladin, they maybe can sympathis but won't understand fully the impact. The others? Best bet they pity him. A more realistic guess is: they only see the Commander. Civilians and Riders alike.

Hence, the scout in the video wouldn't forgive him. Zevlor did too much for these people. He did too well in holding himself up and deliver. None of them knew their "commander" was already broken.

Now, imagine when he was first told to leave. All the tieflings were told to go at the same time. Given his oath was already broken and he was no longer a Hellrider (officially/bureaucraticly speaking), those civilians were no longer his responsibility.

He led them from Eltruel through the whatever danger and reached the Grove. These people were a burden, in a sense. These people couldn't fight and they even had children with them. It couldn't be easier if he only took his fellow with him.

When the Absolute tempted/enthrall him, from the description, the situation intrigued me. Out of all those people, the Absolute only spoke to Zevlor. This say to me Zevlor is still worthy, out of this whole bunch of scrambled together refugee. The Absolute read his mind and used it against himself.

Also, they were being ambushed. They were most likely outnumbered. If surrender could save a few lives, he would definitely consider it. But of course that didn't work out. So people hated him guts for it. Being ambushed wasn't his fault. However, people took "failed to preserve lives and repell enemy" as his fault.

One more thing was, none of them knew what they were against. They knew nothing about the Brain. In Zevlor's dialogue in Act 2, he referred to the Brain as "their false god". Gods in DnD world is a real thing. They mistakened it for that.

"Whatever these monsters twisted us into, I believe it begins in us. I won't make excuses. I can't make amends."

Yes it begins in you because it literally read your bloody mind. It doesn't only whisper into your head, it alters your perception as well. When the player first crash landed on the beach, that one stranded squid showed us that. The player felt "compassion". It was from the squid. Nothing "begin in us".

Yet, Zevlor had no idea what he was against so he took it as all his own fault. Uugggghhhhhh babe!!!!!!

He said he wasn't strong enough. As if he could have faugh it off. No. Nobody could. Without Orpheus, the player would transform way before Act 3. No one can out brain a literal brain.

The sad thing is, nobody knew that. Not even the player character, at that point in the game.

So they abandoned him. The people he protected with his own live, abandoned him a second time. This time, his fellow Riders abandoned him too.

Fast forward to the epilogue. He sent a letter say he regained power and didn't even know what oath was.

Here is my last HC for this post. I think he sworn on the Oath of Devotion. It was Ilmater who granted him power.

Wiki says: deity of endurance, martyrdom, perseverance, and suffering. The Crying God was the patron of the suffering, oppressed, and persecuted, and the One Who Endures encouraged them to endure and encouraged others to help them by taking their burdens or places.

Had Zevlor not suffered enough? Yet, when he saw the tantecles sprouted in city, what did he felt? "No fear. Only Anger. Disgust. Purpose - and with it, power." After all this shit he had been through, the stubborn cow still wanted to protect. I think this is why Ilmater chose him.

Don't get me wrong, he is far from a flawless saint. This is juat a part of him that I see. A stubborn cow. I want kiss and bite our precious old man. Pinch his face so hard and then kiss him better. [Insert aggressive borking]

Note: I finished the post in haste. Will edit later for typos and put links back in for wikis I digged for this round. I want this post out of my system so I can write some bloody AA ffs.

Edit: Put links back in lol

[jellyfitzjelly]

That cloak drabble you wrote..... Incredible 🥺 but I can't stop thinking about Tav going back to camp the next morning, hair disheveled, strands of hay stuck to her, and she's carrying the cloak she strangely woke up with.

Her companions voice their concerns for her absence the previous night then upon closer inspection (and a quick whiff)... it all makes sense 😂

"Ah, did a bit of rolling in the hay I see. Don't know why you'd pick /him/ of all the grove inhabitants but, we all have a type, I suppose." (- cinnasalmon)

LMAOOOO ok i truly love this 😂 [READ ON AO3]

You wake up feeling groggy, with hay sticking in uncomfortable places. You realize there's a cloak wrapped around you. The scent is familiar, but you can't replace it. It is an expensive but worn cloak, heavy and comfortable. It was clearly made for a soldier or a paladin, judging by the Helm patterns at the hem. You like it, but you're confused as to how it got on you.

You rub your eyes and decide to go back to camp. Your companions flock you like a murder of crows on a mice the second you set foot in the camp.

"By Mynstra! Where were you?!" Gale exclaimed.

"And here we were ready to have a funeral for you," Astarion quips with amusement.

"I'm sorry to have worried you. I just wanted to take a nap and...uh, I think it ended up being a night of sleep."

Shadowheart snorts while Lae'zel disapproves, of course.

"Nice cloak, soldier!" Karlach tells you, clasping you on the shoulder...before she sniffs you.

"What are you–"

The tiefling burts out in laughter, to everyone's confusion.

"Guess you had a good night of sleep, uh?" she winks.

You frown, confused.

"What do you mean?"

"C'mon, Tav! The cloak smells right like him!"

"Who? You know whose cloak it is?"

Karlach sighs dramatically, but it's obvious she's enjoying herself.

"Who else but the hot Hellrider?"

"Zevlor?!" you exclaim, shocked.

Wait... This is Zevlor's cloak? Then, that means that he wrapped you in it... You redden as you imagine the scene, as your mind fixates on the touch of his hot hands on you.

"Didn't know you were into older guys!" Karlach teases you.

"I'm not!" you protest impulsively, but no one believes it.

"So, how was it?" Astarion asks. "I've never had a tiefling, you must tell me everything!"

"We didn't do anything, you perverts!"

You march off to your tent, embarrassed, as your companions laugh. It's only when you sit down that you realize that you'll have to give back the cloak. You flush again at the idea of facing Zevlor. He's kind and...well, handsome. There is no denying that. He's a good man, and you feel enraged at the injustice he and his people have faced because of the actions of a selfish man.

Truth be told, you admire him.

Your heart race as you remember his might when you helped him face the goblins at the gate. You bite your lip and shake your head. You need to get on with your day, the morning is becoming noon. You wash yourself and change clothes before you grab the cloak you left in your tent. You remember Karlach's words earlier and you get curious. You bring the cloak to your nose and breathe in. It smells of faint spices, musk, a hint of sweat and of warmth. You didn't know warmth had a smell, but apparently it does, because there is no other way to describe it.

Yeah, it does remind you of Zevlor.

You flush as you realize what you're doing. You go back to the grove with the cloak neatly folded in your arms, heart racing. You tell yourself you're just giving it back and thanking him, no need to be nervous. You enter the cave and find Zevlor poring over his map. You look around but Tilses is nowhere to be found. It might be for the best.

"Ah, Tav!" he smiles as he lifts his gaze from the map. "Hope you slept well."

You can't help but blush. You shift, nervous with bufferfly in your stomach.

"I did, thanks to you. Thank you for the cloak, I'm sorry I am only giving it back now."

The tiefling approaches you with a fond smile, taking the cloak from you with gentle hands.

"Thank you," he tells you warmly.

"Don't mention it," you stammers.

"You should keep it," Zevlor pensively. "It may be more useful to you than to me."

"Oh no!" you vehemently protest. "I won't accept it! You need it, sir!"

"Just Zevlor, Tav," he chides you with obvious fondness. "I am no Commander. Not anymore."

"I'm sorry," you whisper, your heart breaking at the hint of pain in Zevlor's voice.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," he reassures you gently. "This isn't your fault."

You shiver as you catch a whiff of the spices of his cologne. Time seems to slow as you look at him. Your gaze drops to his lips and your breath catches in your throat...

"I'm sorry, I couldn't get any meat– Oh! Am I interrupting?" you hear Tilses behind you.

You step back, embrassed by your thoughts and flushing. Before Zevlor can say anything, you stammer:

"Ah, since it's lunch time I'll leave you to it then!"

You turn on your heels and all but run away. You catch Tilses' confused gaze as you speed. The spend the rest of the day cursing yourself. That night, you dream of spices and warmth wrapping around you.

[craziechwiv]

The Paladin and their Succubus Frenemy - 5 Pt.1

Early in the morning, as Ruby was sleeping soundly in her new bed, she was rudely awakened by the large pounding of one of her teammates. If she had to guess on who, it'd be the...short redhead one...what's her name again?

Dwarf Nora: Ruby? RUBY! It's Nora, time to get up~! We're needed by Priestess Glynda!

Ruby: W-Whuh? Why?

Dwarf Nora: IT'S IMPORTANT NOW GET UP BEFORE I BUST DOWN THIS DOOR!

Ruby: Right, right! I'm getting dressed now!

Ruby sighed to herself about the immediate wakeup call from her teammate but sucked it up. If she'd want her stay among their ranks to be permanent, then she'd have to act the part and be ready for anything they go through. Even if that means saying goodbye to her precious beauty sleep, although she doesn't need it to gain Jaune's affection anyhow~.

Ruby took some time to stretch out her wings and claws, as she then retracts them back as if they weren't shown at all. Within due time, she got dressed in her standard outfit, putting on some basic armor on top of it, and put on some arm braces in quick haste and exited her bedroom. As she ran through the hallway towards the living room, she saw her team already waiting for her.

Jaune was in his usual Paladin armor, a iron like chest piece with arm and leg bracing strapped tightly on him. He held his shield in one hand and sword sheathed but ready for combat. Ruby had to admit it made him look more hotter when he was in this than his regular hoodie with a knitted bunny pattern on it. Although, both made him more adorable~.

Pyrrha was decked out and had a serious look on her face, wearing an iron type of gladiator wear with some stitched in cloth around some lining. She held onto her spear tightly in one hand and her shield in the other.

Ren was getting done wrapping his hands in wrap while Ruby saw one set of light green daggers besides him. He was also dressed in cloth clothing with flower petals stitched onto the center. Ruby had to admit, the petals were a nice touch.

Non-biased opinion of course...

As for Nora, she was rocking a lamellar helm with some armor matching it. However, she also wore a secondary layer of quilted cloth that was underneath the lamellar. Once she was done dressing up, she grasped a large hammer in both of her hands, before yelling out some war cry? Ruby couldn't tell as she covered her ears from how loud she screamed.

Paladin Jaune: Great, you're here. You're ready to go?

Reaper Ruby: Yep! Just quick question, what's happening? I only got that it's important and we're meeting a Priestess.

Champion Pyrrha: We can't say for sure, but if we're called in together, it certainly isn't bandits this time.

Reaper Ruby: So, demons?

Monk Ren: That is what we're pointing towards at the moment. But let's go to the Priestess first. we can't waste any more time.

Paladin Jaune: Right, c'mon guys! If it is demons, we'll think of a plan on the way.

With the confusion out of the way, the team all rushed out of their dorm and headed straight towards the main area of the Cathedral. Ruby looked around and saw many members of the place, the art on the walls, and of course the stained glass depicting the four heroes. Again, she'd had to admit they we're doing well here. She had to remind herself to 'reward' Jaune on asking her to join their team.

Before she knew it however, they approached a pair of doors guarded by some knights. The knights opened the door, letting the members in one by one. Before Ruby could enter, one of the knights stopped her, raising his sword as she raised her hands up on instinct.

R. Knight: I haven't seen you 'round here. State your rank her!

Reaper Ruby: I'm with them, I swear! I-I'm a new member, ask the leader!

The Knight turned his head towards Jaune who nodded his head back at them. The Knight looked at Ruby intensely as if he was peering into her soul but sheathed his sword and let her pass into the room.

R. Knight: Apologies.

Reaper Ruby: It's okay, I would be paranoid too.

After that brief hiccup, the group arrived into a large room, with many tables and chairs arranged in corners. In the far back was a lone woman, reading a note on her desk as she looked distressed. As she looked up, she saw the team and Ruby approach her. She sighed, taking her attention away from the note and stood up, walking towards them. The five stopped in line, with Ruby stumbling of course that led to a snicker from Nora, and the Priestess stood across from them.

Priestess Glynda: I'm glad you all could make it in short notice, not to mention on your day off as I apologize for. But we've got a note sent to by a scout of a nearby settlement.

Monk Ren: What's the state of the scout?

Priestess Glynda: He is being treated now, but he was severely harmed. It's a miracle he had the strength to endure it, nay, even walk such a distance for our help.

Paladin Jaune: Poor guy...

Priestess Glynda: Indeed. I'll cut to the main problem since you all possibly already figured it out on the way here. It is demons, a bulk of them. From what the note said, their warriors and those lending a hand managed to slay a decent chunk of them, but there is still at least 20 more roaming the settlement. They've seeked shelter in a cabin and barricaded it. They don't know how long they can last, and they have some of their fighters severely injured with limited supplies.

The team all stood still as statues as Ruby heard it all intently, trying to remain as professional as possible.

Priestess Glynda: You all know what must happen now, save those poor souls and make sure each of those vile demons is sent with a mark from your weapons.

As the Priestess finished her orders, her gaze peered onto Ruby, who jolted. She walked over to her and stared at her for a reasonable amount of time, making the demoness in disguise scared before she spoke again.

Priestess Glynda: I'm sorry, I don't believe we've met yet. Are you a volunteer adventurer here to help or...?

Paladin Jaune: Actually, she's our brand-new member!

Priestess Glynda: Really?

Reaper Ruby: Uh, yes! I am here to help out with whatever I can. Although, I may not be as efficient as the others, I can still fight!

The Priestess showed a slight smirk towards Ruby but backed away from her, clapping her hands together.

Priestess Glynda: Well, that's just wonderful to hear we still have some people not in it for money nor fame to help save others. I welcome you to our ranks. What is your name?

Reaper Ruby: Ruby, Ruby Rose ma'am.

Priestess Glynda: Well, I hope you survive your first mission. It'd be a shame to lose such a bright spirit in these times...

Reaper Ruby: Trust me, I intend to.

Priestess Glynda: Good. Don't break that promise. Now, all of you better make haste towards the settlement! It is north-east of here. No telling how long it has been since the attack but save and salvage whatever you possibly can. And make sure those vile menaces are put in their place.

With her last bit of orders being said, the team nodded in unison before making their way out of her quarters, leaving the Priestess to ponder to herself.

Priestess Glynda: Hmm, Rose. That name...It's been a while since I've heard it. I guess that wench did birth an offspring like she said she would. Let's hope she doesn't stray the path her mother did, or else.

Next Chapter >

[dorihey]

Hudson read the Gargoyles news today. It's been an amazing year for my favorite series. We've gotten NECA figures that are really great, there's been a steady stream of merch between t-shirts, socks, the comic series started up in January, and Dark Ages in August, and next January again we'll be getting another comic series starting up. And now there's gonna be a live-action series reboot, and so far, there's been no mention of Greg Weisman's involvement in that scenario. It is extremely early to know much more, but it's an odd one for me. I have a big love for animation. 3D included, but 2D especially. I love the comics, but I would love to see this series come back as an animated show more than anything. I've also wanted to be involved in making that happen if I ever have the chance to, but my career goals aren't the point here. Do I think it's possible for Gargoyles to work as a live action series? I can't exclude the possibility. Maybe - but I am far more inclined to believe that what this series is so far feels most at home as an animated show. Art style changes and things, I can deal with, so long as the core identity of the characters show through. The level of production for live action to make that work seems quite high to me - not to inflate my perception of the show, mind you, but more because making these characters visibly transition to live action in a way that I think works with how they feel in the rest of the series would take a STRONG effort. The DRAMATIC and at times absolutely baby-ish, yet highly motivated, intelligent, and empathetic Goliath, the honest, eager, people-motivated and sensitive Broadway, the snarky, lovesick, bright-eyed-to-can't-deal-with-this Brooklyn (seriously, he is having a hard freakin' time), the limitlessly curious, brash, and impetuous Lexington, the avuncular, stoic, yet easily fascinated Hudson, the GOODEST of BOYS, BRONX, and of course our relentless paladin Elisa, who is easily the most even-keeled and formidable character in the show. (She'll get up to some underhanded stuff to make it work though)

It's just difficult for me to picture carrying all of those values into a production without Greg at the helm first and foremost. And making these monster lads and lasses fit on a live action TV set seems so strange to me. So I guess we wait and see.

Also I wouldn't think too hard about the joke in the image. Hudson was basically responsible for peace - or at least what little there was - between humans and gargoyles in the late 900s in his neck of the woods (well, him and prince Malcolm). I just think it's a funny little moment. He'd 100% watch the live action adaptation and be like "why do we look so strange? 🤔"

[featherwurm]

The monastery Tav hails from is one of the largest in Baulder’s Gate, and exists in service to the god of justice, Helm. It’s practice is a blend of traditions, with a structure that both serves religious and martial ends. Like any nearly self-sufficient monastery, it is an institution, and almost a little city unto itself. It is large enough to not only support monk-related religious practice and study (which includes the infrastructural support for people who live there – gardens, baths, kitchens, classrooms, dormitories, libraries), but also training for combat-oriented monks, paladins, and clerics, social services for the city (food and medical care for the poor, orphan and other child-related care and services), educational facilities (with a religious bent, but also considered to be a high quality of schooling), and of course, plenty of functions and celebrations. It is a permanent home to many people, and a temporary one for many more.

This close little group used to hang out between the time Tav entered the monastery and left as a solo wandering monk (ages 12-21) – she still crosses paths with them occasionally. They all like to hang out and catch up as adults. They are not her only friends, but they are her closest ones from her time in the monastery, they grew up together and all know each other’s business. They are the ‘weird kids’ that found each other and have stuck together – knowing each other eased a lot of issues from their younger years.

Descriptions below (age is as of the end of the events of Baulder's Gate 3):

Sahayla Cove (52, F, Human) – Very shy and always a little young for her years, she found comfort and safety hanging out with this bunch of weirdos who thought she was very cool and interesting. Eldest of the group. Artistically talented, currently an illuminator at the monastery and loves it. Schooled at the monastery since primary school, took to boarding there for secondary school. As with Tav, has family in Baulder’s gate but her relationships there are very strained. Found comfort in the monastery and never left – is very theologically loyal to Helm as practice, but likes lively debate on divine topics (tends to view gods as just doing their jobs, and sometimes not doing it well.) (Trans woman.)

Dumah Malekson (50, M, Human… or was anyway) – Pragmatic and kind, intelligent and sensible, generally the ring-leader of the group, unless one of the younger ones got a hair up about causing a specific kind of trouble (he only ever held them back JUST enough to stay out of serious trouble – mischief and nonsense were always fine.) Less the dad-friend and more the NCO friend. One of many children of a large Bauldiran noble family who didn’t stand to inherent anything in the long term and was coaxed by his family into joining the monastery as the proper and right thing to do (both for his sake and theirs – it was… mostly his decision.) Eventually trained as and went to adventure as a Paladin of Helm – and has many of his own stories to tell.

Ceili Meddleweed (48, NB, Halfling) – Thoughtful but strongly opinionated and kindof bossy (occasionally got into some VERY mean verbal fights with Tav). Suffers from an unfortunate condition called “being right.” Very nearsighted, and small even for a halfling. Quite contradictory – orderly but not neat, impatient but kind, has a hand in everything they can reach and a wicked memory, but is only really interested in their own business. Originally entered monastic training to become a monk (and be combat trained,) but lost interest in their later teens, preferring study anything that sat still long enough (which proved no trouble to change in the monastery.) Like Tav they still have blood relatives in Baulder’s Gate they interact with – their relationships are fine. They work as a librarian now in the upper city (not in the monastery,) and are a little leery, skeptical, and gruff, but ultimately very very knowledgeable and eager to share it when prompted. (Might also be a sorcerer but keeps their casting ability on the down low – hold person is a cantrip, right?)

Pareesa Denbek (46, F, Tiefling) – Generally quiet and observant (sometimes to a point of being seen as ‘creepy’), but will speak at length once trusting and happy. Born to human parents, they did try to care for her, but were lost to tragedy (probably Bhallist activity – but no suspects were ever named) – became a ward of the state and was bounced around for far too long in foster care until finding a permanent home in the monastery. Although a little traumatized from her background, she has become one of the head gardeners as an adult, and her favorite topic in the world is plant genetics, hybridization, and the minutia of growing conditions and micro-climates. Also has an ongoing project of selecting the monastery's cats for intense vocalizations, much to some of the other inhabitant’s chagrin (they can’t talk… yet.)

Zatavia “Tav” Felix (45, F, Tiefling) – Chronically cranky with a fierce sense of loyalty and a good punch. Entered monastic training at the age of 12 as a way to cope with terrible internal anger (and also not having her emotional needs met.) Grew up into a wandering monk then turned adventurer. Now the hero of Baulder’s gate or something – off having adventures in Avernus or wherever with her partner.

“Grembo” (45, M, Malkin) – Tav’s “biological identical twin brother” (ongoing joke), more outgoing and a bit lighter-hearted than her, but the two of them have a similar sort of approach and vibe. They do behave much like siblings – the only person who can kill the other one is them. He is the main material component in Tav’s spell “fuck your life, bing-bong” (Material – Grembo, Verbal – “fuck your life, bing-bong”, Somatic – Throw Grembo at it.) Grembo is also a combat-oriented monk, he left the monastery earlier than Tav, and has been off on his own adventures.

Helena Oorstag (43, F, Human) – Fearless, outgoing child, not a fighter or angry like Tav, but always amenable to be the first to poke something, touch something, or go somewhere unseen. Desperate to be important and to prove ‘worth.’ Orphan adopted by the monastery at a young enough age (three or four) that she doesn't remember anything much else. In some ways it doesn't entirely suit her, but she doubled down and studied to become a cleric because she thought that would make her ‘best.’ Became much more reserved and stalwart as an adult, after a short-lived adventuring career as a cleric that nearly killed her – slowly and unpleasantly. Works as a potter these days and has a family in the lower city, just enjoys making things with her hands. Her friends say she’s all very different than when she was a kid, but they still love her anyway.

Cian Cian* (41, M, Half-Orc) – Clever but blunt, former street urchin who tried to pickpocket the head abbot, somehow got talked into joining the order (he’s not quite sure how it happened, honestly). Combat-trained monk like Tav and Grembo, but chose not to wander, instead serving to guard the monastery itself (Baulder’s Gate is an interesting city, and all of the large temples and monasteries know to have appropriate force to maintain their standing.) Slow to warm to the others, but he, Grembo, and Tav were sparring with each other from early on and took a liking to each other’s own gruff composure. Still mad Tav grew up taller than him (they were about the same size when they met – he was a big kid and still is a big guy.) *Didn’t know what to put down as his last name so just wrote his name twice.

Posin “Po” Tailclap (40, M, Dragonborn) – Just a little guy, youngest of the group, bright and curious and full of hell, orphan left in the monastery's care as an infant, grew up into a loyal paladin of Helm. Really good at getting into places he shouldn’t be – even in plate armor these days. Curious, bright, bug-eating menace to society. Has a tendency even as an adult to bully people into doing the right thing by being too cheerful and sweet to say ‘no’ to. Idolizes Dumah, as well as Tav, Grembo and Cian to a degree, and all of them lack a bit of humility, so they just run with it and let him do what he wants. (Trans man.) Knows Karlach from having done various volunteer and charity work in the lower city.

[dabbingonronpa]

Just worked out the design for my next character in my Ace Attorney x Kamen Rider AU—Kristoph Gavin!

His suit was inspired by cone snails and paladin/knight armor, and his cone shell-shaped helm folds down like an actual knight's helmet!

Other notes + WIP sketches under cut; contains spoilers for Ace Attorney 4.

I emphasized the dark blue to contrast with the bright yellow/gold colors, since yellow is the color most commonly associated with betrayal.

I chose to base the suit off of the cone snail since they are one of the most venomous creatures on Earth, which connects his design to Klavier's, which is a scorpion.

The poison aspect also ties into the way he plotted the death of the Mishams in AA4-4.

The Void Driver is made to resemble the Sunrise Driver and Proto-Sunrise Driver that Apollo and Phoenix have, but it's an imitation; when spun counter-clockwise (as opposed to clockwise with the Sunrise Driver), the sides of the 'badge' split open, activating the transformation. Think of it like the Thousand Driver from Zero-One.

The padlock design on the chest, of course, is based on the black Psyche-Lock Kristoph has in the AA4-4 investigation segment with Phoenix.

The suit design in general has some inspiration from Zero-One's Kamen Rider Horobi's suit, particularly the straps.

[saltieststar]

I've somehow talked myself into having Wyll be a second main POV in the fic that covers the BG3 events. Gotta make up for the fact that Wyll really should have been the main character on a non-Durge run. I just think Wyll and Durge mirror each other in such interesting ways. An evil character attempting to figure out what the right thing to do is while lacking any moral compass, and a good man trying to let his moral compass guide him while fighting off the corrupting influence of the shield. I love the idea of both of them realizing that they don't need to rely on an evil source of power, that their strength is their own, and watching them choose to carve a path for themselves instead of following the one their respective fathers paved for them.

*DIA spoilers*

I'm committed to the idea of Wyll being bound to the Shield of the Hidden Lord now. The corrupting influence of the shield is subtle and not immediately obvious. The shield proved invaluable numerous times in Avernus, and it helped Wyll come to his senses about Karlach. It has an ulterior motive, of course. Having Karlach in the party ensures Zariel will continue to send devils after them, devils who may be capable of freeing Garguath. It's because Wyll possesses the shield, and it's corrupting the minds of those nearby that the druids chose to complete the rite of thorns. The voice told the little tiefling girl to steal the idol and whispered to Kagha that an example needed to be made. The shield is feeding off the fear of those around and is essentially playing the devil on everyone's shoulder. While Wyll can at first delude himself into believing that the shield can be used for good in the right hands, he's doing the right thing by keeping the shield out of the hands of those who'd use it for evil. It becomes harder to continue to do so when the corruption manifests physically (Some ridges, bumps, and prongs; claws and elongated canines; and finally, a set of horns). He's provided an easy solution, with Raphael offering to take it off his hands and reverse all those devilish traits he's acquired. If Wyll declines for the right reasons, that Raphael's hands are the precise hands he's trying to keep the shield from -he's eventually drawn to the Temple of Helm in Baldur's Gate, where he receives a vision of what to do with a shield. His arc wraps up with Helm accepting him as a true paladin, and Wyll can either decide to stay and pick back up on the path his father set or to set out on his own path.

[morgana-ren]

*Oh boy. Like this community needed another bite night scene. Mostly just playing with the idea of a secretive, "modest" paladin OC. I'm not super great at building tension (normal or sexual flavor) so any notes you have feel free.

Face to Face

He's definitely staring at her again.  She can feel it.

She'd like to say it's her Divine Sense. Granted, the tadpole had definitely left her weaker than before. Her Divine Sense was practically nonexistent when she first awoke on the beach. Her pool of healing was the smallest she could remember it ever being. No, she could not honestly say this was a warning from Him.

The pale elf had made a particularly bad first impression having abused her Oath and held her at knife point. She shrugged the conflict off shortly afterwards, playing the part of the ever forgiving Ilmatari and the honor bound Paladin. After all, they were only so recently all abducted and...violated  by Ilithid monsters. They were all vulnerable.

Still.

Forgiving the transgression and forgetting that was his first instinct were two entirely different things. Tav was kind, but she was no fool. Astarion may believe differently but that mattered little to her.

No, the itch in her skin was all her. One didn't need a sign from God to see that Astarion was not a good man. Though she could not yet say he was an entirely evil man either.

With a deep sigh that echoed from within her helm, Tav turned to look at the elf. Instead of looking caught rudely staring , he suddenly straighten up and smiled as if having finally been noticed by an inattentive servant. Still he said nothing.  The paladin gave it a few more beats before asking.

"...Can I help you?"

"You know..." he raises a finger to his chin innocently enough.  "I just realized we've been traveling together for days now and...I've yet to see your face. I'm curious. "

Nonsense....was what she wanted to say. Yet, she could not honestly do so.  So she said nothing. 

"I don't even see you take it off to eat. You take your meals elsewhere I've noticed.  Are you going out of your way? Are you..." he lets out a theatric little gasp. "Are you hiding something, darling? "

"You also take your meals away from the group. Are you?" He seems slightly offended by that.

" I've seen you sleep fully armored up against a tree."

"Lae'zel also does that. "

The githyaki ahead of them glances back at the mention of her name, narrowing her eyes before returning to her marching. Wyll, who had just been casually talking himself, glanced back with her. 

"Doing okay back there? "

Astarion smiled and answered with a confident "Of course!" and a flourish of his hands. Tav gave a simple nod.

Wyll raised an eyebrow and returned his attention to Lae'zel. Astarion returned his to Tav. He lowers his voice an octave. His voice is smooth and...admittedly suave.

"So. What are you hiding under all that armor?"

Her embarrassingly red face for one.

Tav scolds herself for blushing like some virginal acolyte from the convents. She could bury herself in as much plate and mail as she could stand to carry but the moment her light, lilting tone echoed out from beneath her helm people became curious. She disliked the attention.

"Skin. Bones. Blood."

He chuckles into his hand at that.

"I mean,  what do you look like under all that metal, darling? You have such a... sweet voice. "

"Hideous."

He raised an eyebrow. He wasn't expecting that.

"Oh? Is that true?" Tav sighed. Perhaps sharing the parameters of her Oath with the group was a tad misguided.

Irritating man.

"...I'm hideous by someone's standards, I'm sure.  Right, Lae'zel?"

The githyanki doesn't even turn around this time.  The one occasion Tav actually wants to hear her disparaging remarks. Wyll sneaks a look back, trying and failing to not look curious himself. These people are a trial from the higher plane, nothing could convince her otherwise. 

Tav thanks the Broken God when Lae'zel calls the group's attention away from her and to some carrion along the road. 

---------

Holy water. She needs to make holy water.

Tav wondered if she'd be able to perform the ceremony necessary with the current tadpole situation. The rest of the hike to camp was tense. The knowledge there was some undead creature lurking in the forest  near their camp left the group quiet.  Even that Astarion fellow seemed put off by the discovery of the poor, drained boar. Once they arrived the whole camp quietly discussed their findings. Tav added little to the conversation. Choosing instead to contemplate.

It made little sense to her.  Vampires didn't just wander the countryside. They needed places to hide from the sun when it rose,  thinking creatures to feed from,  vampire covens nested in cities where there were plenty of both.  However the creature came to be here, the truth of the matter was that it was stalking around out there and quite possibly desperate if it was feeding from wildlife...

Tav once again feels her skin itch and looks up to catch Astarion nonchalantly walking towards her.  He's been noticeably quiet since their return, as well.

"You've been awfully quiet..." he makes a show of dropping his shoulders and pouting. "You see, this is why I didn't want to say anything! You're all...tied up in knots, poor thing. "

"Just thinking. Do not worry yourself. "

"Thinking about?"

"You."

He freezes for a moment and cocks his head at her. ".... Really? Darling, I'm flattered. "

She chuckles a little at that.  "Don't be.  It was a joke." He huffs at her as if offended but visibly relaxes.

"How funny. Well, I'll be keeping watch tonight so you don't worry your pretty little...tin head."  He gave her helm a light tap with his knuckle with the last part. No doubt a little barb to remind her he hadn't been completely distracted form their earlier conversation. Irritating man.

She gives him a silent nod of acknowledgment and begins gathering materials. He doesn't immediately go away and, judging by how much her skin itched, hadn't stopped staring either. She gets up to fetch water without a word and returns without him even acknowledging she had ever left.  He almost seems a little awkward hovering over her like that.  It was actually beginning to amuse her a little.

"Can I help you? " She doesn't bother looking up.

"Going to take a bath? I'm sure you're rather ripe after spending the last few days baking in all that metal." He makes a rather foppish gesture as he says it, hovering closer than she liked. Not that telling him such ever did anything.

"I'm going to make this water Holy."

He stills at that.  Perhaps the reality of the situation is dawning on him. As vicious as he seems, he's still just some noble from Baldur's Gate. She almost feels sorry for the fellow.

"It's just in case. Don't you worry. " she says quietly. 

"... You're not worried? "

"No. I'm not."

She dips her fingers in the now holy water and flicks it at him. He jerks back so quickly she fears she might have gone too far. He looks momentarily startled but quickly clears his throat and straightens his jacket. Tav was thankful he couldn't see the smile it brought to her face. He reminded her of some sort of fancy cat trying to avoid getting wet.

"You said you were taking watch tonight? " She asks. He nods. "I'll sleep better for that.  Thank you. " she says sincerely. He gives her a tight lipped grin.

"Good. Sweet dreams, darling. "

Tav usually sleeps like the dead.  Having traveled for so long with the Order, she was used to sleeping anywhere and everywhere.  Between strange dreams, she feels something pull her awake. She's slow to realize the gentle pull she feels is her helm slowly being pulled from her head. The moment it clicks into place, she jerks awake and looks straight at the offender.

"....Shit." the perpetrator pulls away from her the moment she looks up.

Astarion.

The unbelievable nerve of this pompous, entitled ass! There are tadpoles in their brains. They're stranded up the Sword Coast. There's a God's forsaken vampire lurking about and he thinks to pull a stunt like this. For what? To see her face? She could've killed him! In what world-

"No, no! It's not what it looks like! " Tav stood straight up at that and he followed. He looks nervous. He should be.  "I wasn't going to hurt you! I- I just needed....well, blood." He finally admits, sounding defeated. Tav goes completely still with this admission.

By the Broken Lord, how did she not see it?

His deep, red eyes.  The polite tight lipped smiles to hide what are now quite obviously very sharp fangs. She thought his picky eating was a quirk of his noble pedigree. His pale skin from having never worked in the sun a day in his life. She had assumed so much. She curses herself for doing so. Curses her Divine Sense for failing her.  Failing this group.

She won't fail now. 

She quickly grabs for a weapon but Astarion is just as quick.  He slaps it from her hands indignantly.

"Oh no, there's no need for that!"

Astarion tries his best to look proud, even under the faceless gaze of the paladin's helm.

"I'm not a monster! I only feed on animals,  I swear!  Deer, boars, kobolds.I need to hunt but I'm... just too weak right now. If I only had a little blood,  I could fight better.  Think clearer! I only needed a taste. I promise....please? "

Tav hesitated at that. Vampires were powerful, charming undead creatures.  Tav never heard of one politely asking for blood. She also never heard of them walking in daylight.

"Then why didn't you tell me?"

He looks at her like she'd spoken in tongues. "Why would I tell an Ilmatari Paladin? What could I say?  I feared you'd chase me away or drive a stake through my ribs. No. I needed you to trust me. And you can!  Trust me. Please. "

In that moment, they're both reminded of their tadpole stowaways. They both wince with a sudden foreign wriggle behind the eye.  A twinge of forced sympathy connects them. Tav feels sick with fear, hunger, and shame. Astarion has a look of resigned distrust, perhaps expecting her to capitalize on the situation. Simply bracing for whatever she has planned.

He is undead. Unholy. She should run him through. Strike him down. Yet.

Yet, he has been feeding on animals. He asked to join this group. While he complains near constantly, he's proven capable and willing to help them survive. He has obviously not charmed anyone. Save for Wyll, the group could hardly stand him most days. No children from the grove have gone missing. No one has awoken with holes in their neck. Was he an incorrigible ass? Yes. Was he a monster? Tav was much less sure. 

"....I do. " she says quietly.

Astarion perks up at this.  Surprised and unsure how to proceed. They hear one of their group suddenly choke on a snore and both freeze in place. When the moment passes and there's no more noise the two both relax. Astarion swallows before continuing.

"Good. Do you think... you could trust me a little more? "

The audacity of this man.  Honestly. 

Tav crosses her arms in warning.  Astarion looks up waryily at her for a moment before doubling down. 

"We don't have a choice! I need you alive and you need me strong. " he catches himself and softens his tone.  "....Please? It'll only be a taste. I swear. "

Tav stares into his eyes from beneath her helm. Blood red. She shames herself again for not noticing his unholy nature sooner. Her chest aches whenever he looks at her with those...eyes. She's gone out of her way to avoid his gaze. She knew he was... dangerous when she first looked into those eyes but it wasn't until now realizes truly why. 

With the feelings from their brief connection lingering in the back of her mind, Tav found it harder to steel herself.  The longer she looked at his face, somewhere between pleading and begrudging, the less she saw a monster and the more she saw...well, Astarion.

Irritating man.

Tav sighs and reaches up for her helm.  Astarion looks confused before his eyes widen in realization.  She was agreeing.

"Not a drop more than you need."

She wants to cringe at how different her voice sounds. What little the metallic echo of her helm did to roughen her voice was completely lost. It was difficult to be imposing or commanding when you look and sound as she did.  She felt vulnerable.

"O-of course! I'll be as gentle as a lamb." He slips back to his usual posh tone so easily,  she almost forgets what she's agreeing to.

Almost.

Thankfully, Astarion keeps his expression unreadable.  She watches his eyes dart around her face, taking in every detail. She keeps her eyes trained on him while standing stiff as a board. Daring him to say something.  He cautiously approaches the paladin, as if she'd change her mind and run him through at any moment.  When she was finally close enough to touch, he gently reaches a hand up to touch her face. She slaps the hand away with no resistance. He's not the least bit offended. If anything, it only seems to amuse him.

"Let's make ourselves more comfortable, shall we?"

Tav feels her exposed face grow unbearably hot. She feels the situation is quickly slipping out of her control. He gently presses his fingertips into her shoulder and she practically jumps in the opposite direction.  He smirks at her reaction. A little tit for tat for the holy water earlier that night. He begins herding her towards the ground. The paladin resists.

"What do you think you're doing?"

He shushes her like a spooked animal. "Darling, I think it best if you lie down for this."

Tav sighs in annoyance and defeat. She lays back down into her bedroll, closes her eyes and takes a deep breath to ground herself. She realizes the ache in her chest has been replaced with a rapid drumming. She places her hands against her pounding chest and lies there like she's awaiting her last rites. When she feels Astarion fall to his knees beside her, she opens her eyes to the sight of him over her. Her entire body somehow goes both unbelievably hot and worryingly cold. She wants to brings her hands up to his chest and push him away.  Ask for time to think about it.  To reflect. To pray.  She knows she should.  Yet, when he leans in close and she feels his weight hovering over her, his breath against her neck, she is lost. It was too late. 

He strikes so fast it takes a second for her to register what had happened.  It was like a shared of ice in her neck.  A sudden sharp stab that bloomed into a dull throbbing. Her heart somehow begins to beat even harder. She can almost feel every inch of her skin light up beneath him. She was suddenly very aware of every inch of his body and how close it was to her. She felt his mouth against her neck and realized she could feel him drinking from her. Consuming her.  The realization sent her head spinning. She begins to squirm against him and lets out an humiliating whine when she feels his hands press her down in response. It's just too much. Overwhelmed, Tav tries to say enough but her mouth is shut tight, terrified of what other noise might come out. She tries to take deep breaths to calm herself, but they quickly devolve into ragged pants. When she feels the chill begin to creep up her body she knows this has to stop.

"A-astarion."

He didn't stop. In fact, he seems to be getting more lost in her as each moment passes.

Tav tries not to panic. 

" E-enough. Stop. I need you to stop."

She manages to press her hands up into him this time and feels him jerk back into the moment.  He releases her with a gasp. Leaning over her a few moments longer as he collects himself.

Despite having successfully detached the vampire with blood to spare, Tav was as tightly wound as ever. Her eyes still closed, she focuses on the sound of his panting over her, feeling even warmer than before. When she hears a breathy chuckle escape him she opens her eyes to see him genuinely smiling, her still warm blood dripping from his mouth.  A feeling she doesn't wholly recognize washes over her body and she swears she feels her heart miss a few beats. This should disgust her. She should flinch at the sight. Yet.

He distracts her from her turmoil when he finally does gets up. He's quick to stand over her, and Tav can't help but feel even more vulnerable because of it. Unable to do anything else,  Tav simply manages to sit up and look at him. 

"Gods, that... that was amazing. I never realized..." he's still composing himself as he speaks.  "I feel so strong. Confident! ...Happy."

Strangely enough, this actually made the Ilmatari feel somewhat better about the decision.

There is a noticeable difference in him now.  Tav wonders how long he'd gone without before tonight.  How long he'd been going without when she met him. He looks healthy. She didn't think him a corpse when they met, but seeing him now made her realize just how dead he looked before. 

He finally looks over at her to catch her staring. Still dazed, Tav doesn't look away.  She just continues to study this new Astarion. He studies this new Tav in turn. Without looking away,  he wipes the blood from his chin and licks it from his hand. Tav can't seem to bring herself to look away either.  He lets out a contented sigh when he finishes the last drop.  Tav feels herself swallow with him.  He chuckles in that low tone Tav hates.

"Well, darling.  You are invigorating, but I need to find myself something a little more...filling."

Tav simply nods. While Astarion has recovered himself better than ever before, Tav still sits dazed on her bedroll without words.  He seems to hesitate a moment when he turns to leave.  Perhaps suddenly feeling some obligation. Tav waves him off.

"I...look forward to seeing you in a fight now. "

He laughs.  "Won't be long.  So many people need killing and now I can fight with all my weapons." He flashes her a smile with no fear of showing his fangs. It's new. She has to keep herself from smiling back. 

"Now, if you'll excuse me."

She nods her head to him and he gives a courtly bow.  It earns a chuckle out of her.  His dangerous smile widens even further. He turns to leave but stills for a moment with his back turned to her. 

"....Thank you, by the way. "

With that Tav watches him stalk confidently into the night. No longer trying to save what little face she has,  Tav collapses back into her bedroll.  Her head is now swimming and her heart still racing.  She clumsily removes her glove and traces her fingers along the punctures in her neck.  She drifts off with one hand on her neck and the other over the dull ache in her chest.

[handoverthekawaii]

Tyranny of the Heart | Enver Gortash & You | Chapter 5

You can hardly believe your luck — just days after reading about a heretofore undiscovered technique for producing magical artifacts, a chance has fallen into your lap to try and put theory into practice. If you and Lord Gortash succeed, you may be the first mortals in the realm to build a functioning magic machine.

To start, you familiarize Gortash with the details of the treatise you read at Candlekeep, outlining the mechanical requirements and spellworking considerations for a basic eldritch cannon. Next, the man pops open the receivers of several cannons to find the one best suited to your purpose. None of the artillery can be used as-is, but together you select the one which will require the least amount of modifications.

You help Gortash lift the chosen cannon onto the shop table so that his work can begin in earnest. As the lord pulls out a toolbox and begins rifling through its contents, you step away and flip through the spell lists copied into the front of your travel diary. You’ll need to imbue the cannon with the ideal spell — not too difficult to cast, but one that can clearly demonstrate whether this experiment ends in failure or success.

Meanwhile, Gortash is breaking a sweat so, while your back is turned, he strips off his ornate jacket and belt and drapes them over a nearby bench. When you reappear at his side a moment later, he notices how your eyes move over his black, open-collared shirt, his exposed chest. The deft movements of his hands, girded by metal gauntlets seething with Bane’s divine authority.

After a beat, you break the silence with a question about a particular tool he’s using. Any tension that had existed between you leeches away… for now. But as the conversation flows from there, a thought from earlier returns unbidden to the forefront of Gortash’s mind.

For nearly fifty years, Elturgard’s elites have overwhelmingly consisted of paladins oath-sworn to the service of Torm, Helm, or Tyr. According to Gortash’s vast intelligence network, the ruling family of Triel is no exception to this rule.

But thanks to Bane, Gortash already knows that you worship no god — so what IS the source of your magic? Perhaps the discord between you and your father stems from your taking a different oath than others in your family? Regardless, the man knows there is only one way to find out.

“I gather that you count magic among your many talents,” Gortash says to you as he works. “Alas, my own ability to wield magic may be a lost cause… unless, of course, you have any suggestions to offer.”

“I am afraid I don’t, my Lord,” you answer. “Magic is something I never had to study — it just came naturally to me.”

“If only I shared in your good fortune,” the Chosen of Bane responds.

To his surprise, his words cause you to laugh — a genuine, high-spirited giggle, so pleasing that a shiver runs down Gortash’s spine. You really are quite lovely when you laugh, he realizes now.

“You know what?” you say after you compose yourself. “I don’t usually share this with people, but fuck it.”

Here we go, Gortash thinks to himself. You turn to face him, then unexpectedly pull open the collar of your shirt, stretching the fabric so that one side of your collarbone is visible.

You know it may take Gortash a moment to see what you revealed — a patch of iridescent scales, reddish against the surrounding flesh. He leans in closer, eyes fixed on your collarbone for what feels like a bit longer than is strictly necessary. Then, his gaze flashes up and locks with your own.

“I didn’t know the ruling house of Triel had a dragon ancestor,” Gortash says, to which you reply,

“It doesn’t.” [continued in AO3]

[sparrowsarus]

Abhorsen Ed Bulletpoint Fic, Anybody?

Ed never thought he’d be saddled with the Abhorsen gig. He had been trained, more or less, because everyone in the family was expected to be—so he can whistle the tones of the bells, and he can walk in Death without wanting to retch, and he can deal with the lesser Dead well enough—but he was far enough off the main line that he had no reason to expect the title and the responsibility.

Abhorsens are Necromancers, of a kind; born sorcerers, but with a wizard’s specialization and the patronage, such as it is, of the god Kelemvor, Lord of The Dead; and they’ve got to be musical, because if an Abhorsen has no bells nor pipes, they must rely on their voice to deal with the Dead.

Ed’s lute has been tuned very, very specifically for this reason. He hadn’t expected nor wanted the bells, save once; but his mother had instilled some lessons all the same.

The day he is summoned to the Temple of Kelemvor, where a grey-robed cleric hands him the sword, the book, and the bells, is the day he knows there’s no one else available, and that most of his family is dead.

He also inherits a house and Mogget. He could do without Mogget, honestly. He likes his cats without sarcastic commentary.

Maybe he keeps it relatively quiet; he has to tell Kira, and Holga, of course, because it means some things will have to change regarding Kira’s education. He’s never tried to take her into Death; never bothered telling her about the Nine Precincts in any great detail; but she is Abhorsen-In-Waiting, now, and so she has to learn—faster than he’d like, to be honest.

So, tragically, does Ed, because Ed was never meant to be Abhorsen; and if Ed doesn’t learn, then he and Kira are as good as dead.

Does the walker choose the path, or the path the walker?

The Tablet was still the only way Ed knew of to get someone back from the Final Gate. He has a niggling feeling in the back of his mind that he really, really shouldn’t try to do so, that Kelemvor would disapprove, but he ignores it. Kelemvor should have thought of that when Zia was dying, and had slipped too far into Death for Ed to save her.

Running a heist crew while teaching yourself and your kid necromancy on the down low is not Ed’s idea of a fun time, but he manages, more or less. It helps that Holga always has his back.

Simon finds out because Simon would be a pretty poor sorcerer if he couldn’t tell something was up; i.e, Ed falling asleep over The Book Of The Dead. Which you really, really aren’t supposed to do, but.

Ed doesn’t tell Forge. He doesn’t know why, but he doesn’t. This proves to be wise, when Forge stabs them in the back and tries to steal his kid.

Doric blinks twice, shrugs, and gets on with it. Ed respects that.

He lets Simon take the lead in the whole “digging up Holga’s kin to get the helm” thing, though. Ed had been a young man trying to impress a pretty girl once. Ed had failed to impress Zia, but it had worked out in the long run.

He doesn’t leave behind any loose ends, though. That’s dangerous, especially in an old, unblessed battleground like this one. Ed makes sure that all of Holga’s kinfolk are quiescent before they leave.

Xenk annoys the hell out of him for a multitude of reasons, not just the Thayan thing.

Turns out that slightly Undead paladins trigger his death-sense, but cannot be commanded by the bells. Which is very useful information, when said paladin is helping them out. Ed doesn’t like Xenk, but he’s not ungrateful.  Sending an ally into Death probably crosses some kind of line, not to mention might get the paladin’s patron annoyed at Ed’s own nominal god, who would, in turn, get annoyed at Ed. It’s just not worth it.

He grips Xenk’s shoulder with his unoccupied hand anyway. No reason to take chances.

The bells work on Thayan assassins a treat—especially after said Undead paladin roughs them up a bit. It’s as easy as anything to bind them with Saraneth, and use Kibeth to send them walking to the Ninth Precinct and beyond.

The dragon is alive, though. The dragon is very much alive.

Sofina is Dead, but Ed's not capable, just yet, of fighting her on his own. Maybe that's where the rest of them went wrong; they didn't have a Holga, or a Simon, or a Doric; or even a Xenk.

Szass Tam is very Dead, and a threat to the continent. And to Kira and Ed.

A threat Ed’s going to have to deal with, sooner rather than later.

[wolffyluna]

Hi, it's me again to have lots of thinky thoughts about a fictional character's relationship to religion, based on a very small amount of canon.

I've just got up to Elminster delivering Mystra's message to Gale. Which is interesting! But at the moment I'm thinking about Wyll's reaction to it.

Wyll: Listen-- I might invoke the Triad from time to time, appeal to Helm. But I'm no man of faith. Not like Gale.

Now, a few things:

One: Wyll has just listed the incredibly Lawful Good, ""paladin-y"" gods. Because of course he did. <3 He is exactly the guy who would deliberately petition the god of people who try to protect others.

Two: Now, this should be tempered by the fact that Wyll is comparing himself to Gale "Had A Very Personal Relationship With A God" Dekarios, but it's interesting that he's describing himself as not being a man of faith.

Because in the Forgotten Realms, that's risky.

People who are "Faithless" --who never worshipped any gods, tried to interfere with worship, or who prayed but never really ~believed-- are put in an identity erasing torture wall once they die. Now, Wyll is probably fine on this count: you kind of have to Try to be faithless? Being wishy washy and not particularly religiously inclined in fine. But then you run into the problem of whether he... knows that enough to entrust his immortal soul with it?

But, even if he's likely not faithless, the fate of his immortal soul rests heavily on Helm/Tyr/Ilmater/Torm* going "yep, that one's mine" after he sold his soul to a devil.

Which, you know, could work out fine. Or could also work out very badly for him.

*Good news is that all these gods share the same pretty good afterlife, so even if Wyll was trying to Optimise His Afterlife, which he isn't, worshipping all these four is basically a fine choice.