#Thrall Thursday

[katanamasako]

@daylightisminetoconsume Hey Pudd, Rate my Nyarlagroth :D

[daylightisminetoconsume]

It's Thrall Thursday!!!

Gunmar is taking a break from all the nonsense, so any asks sent in today will be answered by a Gumm-Gumm thrall! Or possibly more than one!

[dad-dictatious-galadrigal]

Drub waves at everyone. Sha is too busy making French braids with nikas hair

[bellasmumblingsandmusings]

Act II Begins: The World of Vampires in What Could Have Been

Hello my lovelies! I have a special Musings this Thursday night, and I am hoping you will enjoy it! Basically I have spent the last year (gods has it be that long already?!) working on this story. As we enter Act II of the tale, we see that we have Sima beginning to be more and more intrigued by the world of vampires in Faerun and the power she could wield. This Musings article goes into how my world differs from that of established lore and gives a few ideas on what's to come. This is your SPOILER WARNING for the future chapters and themes behind the fic! Scroll at your own risk

-Bella After the jump!

Crafting the Shadows: Building a Vampire Society in Faerûn

When it comes to writing vampire society in the vast and storied world of Faerûn, there’s a rich tapestry of lore and traditions to draw from, particularly within Dungeons & Dragons. Sources like Van Richten’s Guide to Vampires and Curse of Strahd provide foundational insights into how vampires operate, thrive, and vie for power. However, my goal wasn’t just to replicate what already exists but to expand on it, subvert some of the established norms, and create a society that feels both authentic to D&D and uniquely my own.

Inspirations from the Lore: Setting the Stage

In classic D&D settings, vampire lords are often depicted as solitary figures of immense power, ruling over their domains with an iron grip. They are figures of terror and cunning, maintaining control through a mix of fear, manipulation, and brute force. The male dominance in these hierarchies is almost ubiquitous, with figures like Strahd von Zarovich embodying the archetype of the patriarchal vampire lord whose rule is unquestioned and whose methods are ruthless.

This traditional setup typically involves vampire lords with extensive networks of spawn, thralls, and lesser undead who enforce their will. Power dynamics are strict, with the vampire lord at the top and their subordinates expected to obey without question. In Faerûn, the presence of figures like Artor Morlin, the vampire lord of Waterdeep, underscores this model. Morlin, in his pursuit of curing vampiric weaknesses, embodies the archetypal vampire who seeks not just to dominate but to transcend the limitations of his kind—reflecting a broader desire for ultimate control and perfection within undead hierarchies.

Expanding the Lore: A New Vision for Vampire Society

While these traditional elements set a strong foundation, I was interested in exploring how a vampire society might evolve beyond these rigid structures. My vision for Faerûn’s vampires expands on the established lore by introducing more fluid and dynamic power relationships, where alliances and rivalries aren’t solely dictated by fear and domination but also by more nuanced and personal motivations.

Astarion’s Ascension: Disrupting the Status Quo

A key element of my world-building revolves around Astarion, an Ascendant Vampire Lord whose rise disrupts the traditional vampire hierarchy. In most D&D lore, ascension amongst vampires involves brutal rituals, rigid inheritance, or sheer might. Astarion’s ascent, marked by his unprecedented ability to walk in daylight, symbolizes a break from the old ways—where power was both coveted and feared, but also constrained by the inherent weaknesses of vampirism. This departure creates a ripple effect in Faerûn’s vampiric society, challenging other lords who now see Astarion as both a rival and a key to potential power.

In this reimagined society, Astarion doesn’t just seize control of Baldur’s Gate through sheer force; he blends subterfuge, alliances with the nobility, and a dual life as a socialite to maintain his grip on power. His control extends beyond the shadows, infiltrating the upper echelons of society and creating a network that mirrors the interconnected nature of Faerûn’s complex political landscape. This approach not only makes Astarion a formidable power but also showcases how vampires can adapt and thrive in a world that is evolving around them.

Subverting Tropes: Reimagining Female Vampires, Consorts, and True Vampirism

A critical aspect of my world-building involves redefining the roles of female vampires, consorts, and exploring the nature of true vampirism. In traditional lore, female vampires are often relegated to roles such as brides or consorts, which typically place them in subservient positions to male vampire lords. This portrayal extends to characters like Strahd’s brides in Curse of Strahd, who are often depicted as extensions of his will, lacking autonomy and serving primarily to enhance his narrative of control and tragic desire.

Breaking the Mold for Female Vampires: Upon researching D&D’s established vampire lore, it became clear that prominent female vampire lords are extremely rare. Besides the occasional mention, such as a vampire in an older Moonshae Isles adventure, there are few, if any, central female figures in the lore who wield power on par with the most iconic male vampire lords. This absence presents an opportunity to reimagine what a female vampire lord could be, challenging the entrenched patriarchal structures that dominate vampiric society.

In my narrative, true vampire brides are not merely subordinates but can wield powers comparable to those of vampire lords, including the ability to create their own spawn and establish independent power bases. This approach empowers female vampires, granting them the same autonomy and agency traditionally reserved for their male counterparts. It also reflects a broader ethos within my world-building: that power should not be confined by gender, and that vampire society can be more fluid and egalitarian.

Inclusivity of Gay, Non-Binary, and Male Consorts: Expanding beyond traditional gender roles, my world includes a broader spectrum of identities among vampire consorts and lords. In my vision, consorts can be of any gender, and power dynamics are not strictly tied to traditional male-female pairings. This inclusive approach allows for a richer and more diverse exploration of relationships within vampire society, reflecting the complexities and variations of identity that exist in the real world. By opening up these roles, the narrative breaks free from the constraints of the established lore, creating a more inclusive and modern interpretation of what vampire relationships can be.

Amplification of Core Traits: A unique element of my interpretation of vampirism is the amplification of one’s primary nature upon becoming a true vampire. In Astarion’s case, his ambition, dominance, obsessive love and desire for freedom are heightened, leading to his distinctive approach to rulership and power. This concept allows each vampire’s transformation to reflect their intrinsic qualities, creating a diverse and multifaceted society where no two vampires are exactly alike. This aspect not only deepens character development but also reinforces the idea that vampirism is a deeply personal change, amplifying one’s core essence to an extreme.

Astarion’s Unique Nature as a Spawn and Beyond: Astarion's time as a spawn was also distinct; unlike many spawn who become mindless extensions of their masters, Astarion retained significant aspects of his personality and humanity. This set him apart even before his ascension, suggesting that his nature as a vampire was always somewhat exceptional. This unique trait raises interesting possibilities for those he turns, potentially leading to further exploration of how his approach to creating new vampires differs from the norm. The implications of his influence extend beyond power; they reach into the very nature of identity and self-determination within the vampiric condition.

Tension and Upheaval: A Society in Flux:

The introduction of vampires who break the mold—whether through unprecedented powers like day walking or by rejecting the traditional roles assigned to them—creates tension not only among the undead but also with mortal societies. Astarion’s ability to blend into daylight and manipulate societal norms creates fear and uncertainty among the established vampire lords, who see their own vulnerabilities laid bare. They approach Astarion not just with suspicion but with a desperate curiosity, attempting to unravel the secret of his ascension while grappling with the implications of his power.

This upheaval isn’t just limited to the undead; mortal society reacts too. The Council of Four, for instance, are wary of Astarion’s growing influence and the potential shift in the balance of power. As Astarion and his allies push for more autonomy and control, mortal institutions respond with resistance, highlighting the fragile nature of the alliances that keep the peace between the living and the undead.

Building a New Vampire Ethos: Beyond Fear and Control

Ultimately, the world-building in my trilogy aims to craft a vampiric society that transcends the usual narratives of fear and brute control. Vampires in Faerûn, under Astarion’s emerging influence, are not just static beings locked in eternal power struggles—they are dynamic, capable of change, and reflective of the complexities of identity, ambition, and legacy. By embracing a broader and more inclusive vision of what it means to be a vampire lord, the story expands the traditional D&D lore, offering a glimpse into a society where power is not just held but shared, and where the old rules are rewritten to accommodate a new order.

In this evolving landscape, the undead of Faerûn are more than just predators—they are rulers, guardians, and perhaps most compellingly, beings striving for a legacy that outlasts even the immortality they’ve been cursed or blessed with. It’s a world where the lines between monster and monarch blur, and where the true challenge lies not just in seizing power but in redefining what that power means.

[spiralgirlblu]

Infection

When Janice got home Thursday night after a nine hour day at work, she was surprised to see two other cars in his driveway, as only her husband should be there. She grabbed her work bag and went inside, expecting their normal Thursday night couples dinner night. She had chosen tortellini alfredo for her meal this week, which is her favorite meal, and she had been very excited about her husband’s cooking, since she normally made them dinner.

It was also a big surprise to her when she walked inside and there was no smell of cooking roaming through the house, the table was not set, and her husband was nowhere in sight. She wandered through the first floor and there was no sign of Jeff. She checked the basement to the same result. As she went upstairs to check their bedroom, she was very curious where her husband could be.

As she opened her bedroom door, she was met with a sight that truly scared her. Her husband was fully clothed between another woman's legs who she had never met. She stopped herself from fainting just in time, then yelling “Jeffery, what the fuck?!”

Her husband seemed completely uninterested in her, keeping his head buried in the mystery slut’s cunt. 

Then the woman who was dominating her husband's attention spoke to me. “Don’t be too upset with your Jeff, Janice. He didn't choose to be my obedient servant. No, I just have something of a disease… power…virus… curse? whatever it is. Although… he did cheat on you, and you're not going to like who it was with either.”

Janice was in tears, anger seething, shown vividly by her expression. “Jeff.. didn't… No… what’d you do to him?! He’s not right.” Her hands balled into fists, a bad answer sure to set her off onto a physical rampage.

 The woman smiled, moaning before continuing. “Well it's not what I did to him, it's what I did to your next door neighbors. Sweet little Erica had gotten her husband's permission to try sleeping with another woman since she hadn’t yet in her life. Well lets just say…”

Janice cut her off. “Enough out of you bitch. If I have to kill you to make you stop I will.” And with that, she lunged at the intruder. 

Just before she got close to the two, she heard her enemy say the words that struck fear into her soul: “Mistress Delaney’s Slut.” Janice instantly ground to a pace like she was going through molasses. The only thing that kept her awake and standing was her heated passion, slowly pushing forward.

“Wow, a strong one. Stop, Jeff. We have something more interesting.” the naked woman walked up to her slowed thrall and started to feel her up. “Still fighting huh? This is new, maybe Jeff couldn’t program you right. I’ll have to punish him for that. Earth to Jan, can ya hear me, slut?”

“Yes…… you…… bitch…” she responded, still trying to fight off the foreign feeling of being stuck and not moving freely.

“FREEZE Janice!” Instantly her body got locked in place below the neck, like all the molasses around her froze and she was stuck still inside of it. “Aw, there she is. Got that one right. Let me tell you how my… infection works. Anyone I have sex with, when I cum the first time, their brain goes completely numb and it's ready to be programmed. But the best part is, I figured out all my cum slaves share my infection, and can program whoever they fuck too.”

Janice was more than just stuck in place, she was now also frozen in fear. If what this bitch- Delaney- was saying was true, how many people was she in control of.

“Hey Jeff, bend your wife over the bed and fuck her while we talk. Don't cum til I say honey.” Delaney snapped her fingers, and Jeff snapped into place immediately.

“Yes, my love.” Jeff grabbed his wife by the hair and threw her down, draped over the very bed he fucked her on last night. He ripped her pants apart and quickly started pounding her.

In Janice’s sexual daze, she vaguely heard Delaney talking to her. “I’ll save you the whole story. So I had sex with your neighbor and programmed her that day, and then when she had sex with her husband, more of the same. I had them become the swingers of the block, slowly infecting the rest of your neighbors into more and more of my sex slaves. I only had your house and one more left before yesterday.”

Janice had heard everything her lover… her assailant had said to her, and a part of her was scared of what she had heard already. Unfortunately, that part of her had no control over her body, and was completely covered by the sex crazed demon inside of her.

“Your husband realized and wanted to be their little sex pet of the night, too bad my virus broke him completely. Who knew that two of my infectedss’ cum would melt someone’s brain that thoroughly. Well then he took you last night, I’m just here to finish the job. Fun right?” She giggled, rubbing herself inches from her face. “If you’re ready to give in, give my pussy a lick.”

It didn’t even take Janice a second to take to licking her lover’s slit. Then she heard another set of important words from above her. “Jeff, cum!” And the second her husband unloaded his jizz into her, her world started to fade to black. Right before she went fully out, she heard her lover-Miss Delaney- say “Now let’s see what you two can do about finishing the block for me.”

[forest-of-stories]

Throwback Thursday, Fandom Edition: Vampires of London

The Magnusquerade is an AU, created by NevillesGran and Listless_Songbird, in which all of the Fear Avatars in The Magnus Archives are vampires, with a variety of different powers depending on which Fears they serve in canon.  Eye vampires can read minds and manipulate memories, Corruption vampires can command vermin, Vast vampires can fly, and so on.  In this world, the Archives staff were first Elias’s thralls, and then became Jon’s after Elias turned him.  All of the titles consist of corporate jargon.

After reading an almost incidental line in an early fic, Management Skills With Regard To Attempted Homicide, I thought, “I know exactly how this scenario would play out!” and the author gave me permission to write that scenario when I asked.  It was one of those ideas that would not leave me alone until I put it on paper.

I posted Encouraging Employee Initiative on October 2, 2019.  Since then, I’ve written or co-written 25 more fanworks in this universe, more than half of my TMA fic output to date, and totaling almost 58,000 words.  One of those stories connected me with @amusedmuralist, who’s now among my closest online friends, and we’ve spent many, many hours discussing possible storylines for the vampires at the Magnus Institute and beyond.  A few other amazing writers have contributed to the AU as well.  The Magnusquerade gave me the opportunity to play with my favorite telepathy and mind control tropes – and to write Elias as even more of a Manipulative Mentor Figure than he is in the show – without worrying about whether I was being too self-indulgent.  I hope that everyone is able to experience this kind of creative and collaborative joy at least once in their fannish lives.

Contributions to this AU – including my own – have slowed over the last year.  I still hope to return to it at some point, but even if I don’t, it’s still one of the best things that’s happened to me in this, and maybe any, fandom.

[ogyscrypt]

You Left Your Artbook With Your Teacher

Happy Thirsty Thursday, thralls!

This one is for you artsy types who have fantasized about an art professor at least once.

Full audio can be found here

Okay, okay, fuck. So, you have two artbooks, right? One is your personal sketchbook, full of... private drawings, and the other is your 'official' one you use for your assignments.

Last week, you handed in your sketchbook, and then when you got home, you opened your other sketchbook to find... your official sketchbook... the one you thought you'd just handed in at close of day.

You've given your teacher your sketchbook full of all the porn you've been drawing. Including the drawings of him. You should try and get it back, subtly, without looking to see if he has a bulge in his pants.

[Fucked over my desk] [Draw me] while [I touch myself] [After class] [Cum on the floor] [Gentle MDom] [Teacher/Student] [Professor] [Older man/Younger woman] [Encouraging] [Charming] [Embarrassed] to [Seduced] [Semi-public] [Fantasising about me]

[aniimamundi]

Day 29: Thrall

@microficmay

(97 words)

Owls can't locate the cottage, but Harry's phone works. His friends keep texting when he disappears.

On Thursday, there's a pub meetup.

Draco burnt his hand while making lunch. Harry can't leave him.

Friday is Rose's birthday party.

A ward had been flickering lately. Fixing it takes the whole day.

Saturday he's invited to play Quidditch.

Draco's ignoring him, that won't do.

Sunday is dinner at Molly's.

They get into a fight. They've been shouting and it's midnight before he knows it.

On Monday, he stops with the excuses and admits the truth. He's in Draco's thrall.

(previous post in this au; non-linear)

[blackjackkent]

Oop, one more very revealing Minthara dialogue. I'm really enjoying this, having completely missed her on my last playthrough. :D

(Wyll is sitting very patiently with his exclamation mark over his head waiting to tell me his sad backstory but he might have to wait until Thursday. XD I'm busy listening to Emma Gregory speak to me of bloodshed and violence. 😍 )

"When did you first encounter the cult of the Absolute?"

"A True Soul came to my city preaching a message of togetherness, accompanied by two novices. Menzoberranzen is not fertile ground for such messages. I killed them and hanged their bodies in my garden."

(Cue Rakha trying not to let the beast get too fascinated by this mental image.) "Yet they recruited you all the same."

"Recruited. You could call it that. I intended to wage war on their god and the rest of its presumptive followers. Even as the flesh sagged and sloughed away from their eyeless skulls, their audacity infuriated me. I had to know where they came from. And whoever sent them was counting on my curiosity overcoming my caution."

"You followed their path back to Moonrise?"

"Yes. All it took was a simple act of necromancy, and the corpses told me where I needed to strike. Moonrise Towers."

"Given how we met, it's safe to say you failed."

"It is never safe to point out my shortcomings, iblith. But in this instance, you are correct. Moonrise is the site of my greatest failure. As it turned out, to my shame, I was defeated without even drawing my weapon. I came to Moonrise with a retinue of warriors and assassins, the best House Baenre had to offer. I expected a battle, but found a fully-laden feast table, and a welcome befitting a house matron. Ketheric expected us - expected me - and I fell for his flattery."

"I'm surprised you were so complacent."

"It is a mistake I hope never to repeat. Ketheric proposed an alliance between Moonrise and Menzoberranzan. I admit, I was captivated by him. He invited me to the head of his table as his guest of honor. I was wary, of course. If I had been in his position, the food would have been poisoned. It was not the food I should have been wary of. It was the pale woman at the foot of the table - Orin the Red."

"We had barely begun to eat when she spoke for the first time. I only caught one word - my name. Then, quick as lightning, she climbed onto the table, a dagger in each hand, and skipped toward me, slicing the throats out of my men as she passed them."

(Again, an image that Rakha likes not at all and the Dark Urge likes very much, and any references to or thoughts of Orin seem to make her head ache terribly.) "She sounds delightful."

"Few things frighten me. Orin is one of them." Minthara's voice has suddenly gone uncharacteristically quiet and full of a very muted trembling. "Ketheric held me still. His hand on my shoulder, the grip tight enough to crack the bone. When Orin stood before me, she touched the dagger to my eye, drawing out a tear of blood. I want this one, she said. Ketheric nodded his permission, and I was taken below."

"You've seen the horrors of the colony. Orin kept me there for days. She forced me to watch as my men were processed; some for food, others for thralls. And then she placed the tadpole in my eye herself."

"You'll have your revenge."

"That is certain. You know the rest as well as I do. There were massacres before the Grove - religious communities, mostly. Those who refused to convert. Then there was you, and now there is freedom. Soon there will be vengeance."

[potatoobsessed999]

Throwback Thursday Friday Saturday

Tagged by @jaz-the-bard to post one of my older fics!

I'm gonna throw my series Remember: Folktales from Angband's Mines at y'all, because I am never not having emotions about the thralls of Angband and I would like everyone else to be having emotions about them as well. Three stories on hope in the dark:

The Elf-Maid's Song, about a thrall who will not stop singing. The Twins Who Sought the Stars, about two siblings who have never seen the sky. The Siblings Who Were Parted, about families lost and found.

I would like to write more of these at some point, but that's the anthology for now. Come feel feelings with me!

And I shall tag uhh @cycas, @outofangband, @thejakeformerlyknownasprince, and anyone who wants to!

[dianessunflower]

Tristan und Isolde in The Good Fight 6x04

i was not always an opera fan but i am always a fan of art referencing art. so when Tristan und Isolde popped up in season 6 of The Good Fight, you can imagine i was intrigued.

again, i wrote two threads on twitter, and i'm reposting here in lieu of there never being another thursday ep of TGF ever again (crying hours).

by Spanish artist Rogelio de Egusquiza's Tristan and Isolde (Death). 1910, oil on canvas, Bilbao Fine Arts Museum

anyways, T&I is an opera in 3 acts by Richard Wagner with a German libretto, based on a 12C romance Tristan and Iseult by Gottfried von Strassburg. known for tonal ambiguity, orchestral colour, harmonic suspension & chromaticism (very basically, using tones outside major/minor scales).

i will say from the outset i am not a Wagner fan (google it, but also it's rather ironic given what happens in this ep), but i have been to the villa where he lived in Lucerne (great views). (Walter Benjamin called Wagner an example of "bourgeois false consciousness" lolol)

anyway back to T&I… he wrote it while having an apparent affair with Mathilde Wesendonck 👀🍵 but it was also written after his discovery of Schopenhauer, a German philosopher who also influenced Tolstoy.

his point was to write tragedy, not romance, and his work marks the departure from tonal harmony in 20C EU classical music. the opening is called the Tristan chord—listen to the dissonance, nothing being resolved.

T&I uses harmonic suspension—creating musical tension and expectation in the listener through prolonged unfinished cadences. but he does so throughout the whole work, like introducing a cadence in the prelude and not resolving until Act 3 Finale.

and um, this deferred resolution is frequently interpreted as symbolising both physical sexual release and spiritual release (aka death ahah). there is also a day/night, life/death theme going on—opposites attract.

to return to Schopenhauer and the general storyline of T&I, it's really premised on the idea of unfulfilled longing and unachievable desires. make of that what you will.

[pre-finale addendum] i never really thought T&I was a direct metaphor, but more about how love doesn't always triumph. tragedy.

the important thing about the T&I plot is that it's a chivalric romance with certain elements, based on ancient Celtic myth, though the opera itself is based on a Medieval German retelling:

the brave hero (you're my hero)

the forbidden/doomed lovers (can your love survive outside the bubble)

and of course, the love potion, which makes Isolde fall in love with Tristan whom she had previously sworn hatred for after he killed her uncle. it SHOULDN'T make sense, and yet Diane and Kurt fall in love anyway.

the love potion is magic, but it is also poison (this is where it could become a metaphor* for PT108). and it doesn't just slowly poison them, eventually in the opera it poisons everything and leads to the lovers' downfall.

****(ftr, i do not think PT108 itself is poison & certainly not in reference to a depression treatment)

there are interesting doubles in T&I, mostly that Tristan's first wound is healed magically by Isolde, but later he's mortally wounded when Isolde doesn't reach him in time.

(Rogelio de Egusquiza, Tristan and Isolde (Life). 1910, oil on canvas, Bilbao Fine Arts Museum)

i think we see this flipped in TGF. in s1-2, Di has been wounded emotionally by Kurt and eventually they reconcile. but in s6, Di has been depressed and had multiple near death experiences, and yet Kurt doesn't seem to be able to reach her.

hence the quote: 'Here he lies, the great man, in thrall to the world’s most wonderful delusion—love.' and like the opera, the harmonies won't resolve until the very end.

[post-finale note] i did realise that when the Liebestod is playing while Diane and Kurt are talking on the sofa after the gala dinner that it does resolve. the answer was always there, that they would resolve together.

[daylightisminetoconsume]

It's Thrall Thursday!!!

Ever want to know what life is like in Gunmar's army? Ask away! Thralls will be answering all day!

[archangelsunited]

WIP Wendsday (Thursday, is it thursday?) Part 2

I was also tagged by @paraparadigm. Another moment between Tyre and Serana.

Once again, if you see this- you are tagged. I am hovering over your screen like the ghosts of WIPs and Challenges past.

Dawnstar was a dumpy little town. In the brace of mountains that surrounded the mountain, the town had decided to settle around a hill. The sea was dark and thick with sludge from the mines- combined with the enormous crop of nirnroot- it looked like Dawnstar was sliding down the mountains into the edge of Oblivion.

           It was four days journey from Dimhollow, and during that time, Serana grew crankier and crankier. She didn’t like the wind, nor the sunlight, nor the snow. She hated stopping and lighting a fire at night, but she did not wish to sleep during the day.  The first day, Tyre took it as a sign she was unused to the world. The second day, Tyre tried to make connsessions. The third day, he ignored her. On the fourth day, he had enough. He called her “bloodsucking brat with more tongue than brain.”

           She told him that he was “a Bespawler with the temperament of a Wandought.” He had no idea what that meant, but he was sure it was insult.

           “Did your almighty father not teach you manners?” Tyre roared at her.

           “Did your mother not teach you to feed your charges?” Serana screeched back at him.

           Tyre paused for a moment. Most vampires he spent time with wished to eat in private- and he had assumed Serana had been doing the same.

           “Have you been unable to hunt?” Tyre asked. “I’ve seen plenty of rabbits and-“ Serana’s face curled up in disgust.

           Tyre, tired of the complaining, was hungry as well. He took a deep breath in, and then out.

           “We are four hours from Dawnstar.” Tyre looked up at the sun, slowly edging above the tree line. “There are options, there. There is always someone willing to-”

           “Can’t I just drink from you?” Serana asked. Her face was humiliated, like she hated that she even had to ask. “Its not- well, whenever we moved, mother or father would feed me, so its not a-”

           “I’m sick.” Tyre said, dumbly. It wasn’t like he hadn’t done it before. He had donated a lot to his friend in Morthal, for rescuing the Lady. Lydia had donated to some orcs around Markarth.

           “I know, and I don’t want to make it worse-” Serana continued, blushing.

           “Your not making it worse, girl.” Tyre said, cutting her off. “I don’t want you to get sick.”

           Serana’s eyes widened. Then her face turned violently violet.

           She mumbled something.

           “What?” Tyre asked.

           Serana mumbled something else.

           “Serana, I can’t hear you.” Tyre felt like a child stomping his foot.

           “WE DON”T GET SICK.” Serana yelled at him, making up for her lack of volume.

           “It cures all illness?” Tyre asked. “The Archmage said that the illness I had was unusual, because my body was essentially attacking itself. We couldn’t use certain healing potions or spells on it. She had only heard the barest whisper before.”

           “It’s the unlivible.” Serana said. “I know what it is. It won’t affect me. We, well my father, made a deal to turn Garan Merethi’s lover Sadri into a vampire- if Garan was also turned and used him as a blood thrall, exclusively, for a year.”

           Tyre squinted at her. She shifted to the side.

           “Some vampirism doesn’t cure the disease, but it won’t pass.” Serana claimed.

           “Its your life.” Tyre said, finally. “I need you to be sure. No one is going to be around to say I told you so.”

           Serana looked him in the eye and stared him down. Her arms came across her chest and she lifted her chin.

           “I am sure.”

           Tyre sighed. “Fill this with water for me, and go get me something to eat while I take off the armor.”

           Serana did as she was asked, while Tyre found a tree to sit under. They were an hour from the road, no one was going to come upon them here, but she had been walking in the sun.

           Tyre didn’t want to sit down. Getting up took so much effort- and getting up with blood loss would take even more effort. But she was an apprentice, thousands of years old or not. You had to feed apprentices.

           He settled down underneath the tree, sitting on his backplate. Serana came up with a dead rabbit, that she was tearing up and cooking carefully with her bare hands.

           He took the tiny pieces of rabbit and tore them smaller, putting them into his mouth. Serana, in the meantime, did the spell she had previously done on his throat. Swelling went down and soothing numbness overcame him.

           “Alright, lass.” Tyre held an arm out to the side when he was ready, but Serana jumped directly into his lap.

           Tyre grimaced. Her teeth sunk into his neck and she gave small little gulps. There was a small little chirping noise that seemed to originated from the back of her throat. She was freezing, causing the chill of Dawnstar to further sink into his bones.

           He lifted a shaking hand and put it on the back of her head, tugging on one of her braids.

           “If you drain me, your going to have to get to your father alone.” His voice was a whisper again.

           Serana groped for his wrist, her fingers finding his pulse point. She kept her mouth sealed around his neck as she counted. Then she took two more gulps and started licking his neck. Tiny little kitten licks.

           Tyre sighed, letting the venom soften him up.

[hdawg1995]

I got board and Ajax decided to bother me so heres a Ajax ficlet.

context: during the reawakening war Ajax tapped into his Thrall form to have a kaiju fight with Remthalas, resulting in him getting knocked out rather than killed.

Ajax watched the water as he helped the other four prepare their tackle and lures. His stomach churned uncomfortably- they weren't near Falconreach Bay where The Locker was, and Scalla had promised he wouldn't encounter *Him* again, but at this point its clear their timelines are drifting apart. After the Reawakening and the nightmares that Remthalas put him though Ajax was sure he and Scalla will begin to see each other less and less. The last time they spoke was after Ajax woke from Remthalas' dream. Scalla had changed, there was this air of resignation about her that made Ajax not recognize her at first. Part of him wonders if she is actually avoiding him, not wanting to know what the "good ending" of her war was.

Remthalas approached and set a hand on his shoulder, bringing him out of his thoughts. "You said fishing is supposed to be relaxing but all you've done is stand here watching the water..."

Ajax glanced at the abys elf- the one who is dead in Scalla's timeline, the one who transformed into a eldritch monster... the one Ajax became a thrall to save- and said "I'm just thinking too much. Surprised you're not nervous too."

Remthalas shrugged with a smile. "I have you, Notha, and the Avatar's champion, what do i have to fear?"

Kathool achoo came to mind. Ajax shivered at the thought.

And then it started to rain. it wasn't a big deal or much of a problem. But then the anglers started to vanish and as Ajax stared down the Johnnyfish, teeth bared and grip tight around his fishing rod, he knew this wasn't going to end well.

Arriving in the Locker he was glad to see everyone safe. Aquella was a welcomed surprise as well!

After hearing about the current state of the abys elves Remthalas seemed to freeze up. the others talked with Aquella about what to do, but still he was silent. Ajax gently took the elf's hand and walked him away from the conversation.

"Talk to me?" ajax asked.

the two were both victims of Kathool's influence- Ajax a bit more willing, but a victim nonetheless. After they both woke from the nightmare Remthalas had been staying with Ajax until he got his footing which... was difficult. He was a abys elf, he was drawn to the water, there were days where he was sick from the heat and air of falconreach, but being in the water for too long or going too deep sent the man gasping into a panic attack. Ajax figured out with Notha's help that if he got Remthalas talking- ranting even- he would start to feel better, start to become grounded.

"They're still alive..." he breathes. Remthalas shudders and starts to ring his hands. "They're a live but there is nothing that can be done. A-All my effort- all my plans- Ajax what i put you and Notha though it was all- and did she just say we could GO and reclaim Abyssal territory? Did i hear her right?" his eyes had gone wide but not wild yet. Ajax patted his shoulder.

"Yeah thats Aquella for ya. strong, independent, and she even got her trident back!" he turned to smile at the water elf. Ash and Thursday growing up was one thing, but seeing the child who saved her people all grown up? He is so proud of her.

Remthalas seemed to catch on to Ajax's affection for the elf. "She was the child you mentioned, yes?"

"Yup!"

"the one you almost brought to Kathool?"

"We're not talking about that anymore."

Remthalas' laugh echoed in the water as Ajax returned to the group.

[aparticularbandit]

The Thrall of Magic for WIP Wednesday please :)

WIP Wednesday Game

sorry it's thursday but i guess the other ones got posted on thursday, too, sorry i'm running so LATE

Wanda traces careful between the scars lining Agatha’s back, and Agatha does her best not to flinch when she draws too close to nerves that have been raw for over three hundred years, severed by punishments that were nothing but common at the time and which didn’t always have the same startling effect they had on her, all thick and ragged and debilitating.  The minor spells help; they don’t help much.  More like a band-aid to ebb a staunchly bleeding wound, as opposed to the sorcery that would make it as though they are not there at all.  But she can’t – won’t – ask Wanda to stop running her fingers up and down her back, not when she’s being so intentional to not touch the scars at all.  She’s making an effort, and in the future – with the spells intact – it won’t matter at all.

“Thank you, dear,” Agatha murmurs anyway, curving just enough to kiss Wanda’s cheek, “for being gentle with me.”

At her words, Wanda pauses, fingers stilling at a particularly uncomfortable spot, though Agatha refuses to address it, to shift beneath the discomfort.  “Was I?” she asks, and one finger moves to run along her collarbone and just under it, where bruised bite marks remain.

“Gentle as a kitten.”

This time, when Agatha tries to meet her eyes, Wanda averts her gaze, brow furrowing, lips pursing together.  Agatha follows her dropped gaze to the wedding ring still shining bright around her finger.  “Hon—”

“I…I think I’m going to make some tea.”  Wanda shifts away from Agatha but doesn’t move far, stopping herself just on the edge of the mattress.  Her ankles cross together, and the sheets crumple under her clenched hands.  “Do you want anything?”

[broximar]

Thrall’s Back Thursday