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archmage--khadgar · 4 months ago

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"Rumor Has It..." You intentionally blew every last drop of magic in Atiesh 'because' you knew the Dark Heart was a siphon. You sly fox. Burning as much of it as you could to deny it to an enemy.

"Oh, well now that would be telling, now wouldn't it?" He winks. "What's that they say about magicians never revealing their secrets because they've an ace up their sleeves? Or... is that two different sayings? Bah! The sentiment is the same either way. Mana strudel?"

#archmage approves #tww spoilers #tagging for spoilers just in case #spoilers

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2winstars · 4 months ago

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it was tradition for the children of the horikoshi clan to partake in the tournaments they hold at the beginning of every winter, a test of steel and will portrayed in the arts of combat. nor was it any surprise that the twins seemed to rise victorious round after round, as though they were competing with each other rather than the others. neither wanted to lose, even when it came to the acknowledgement of their mother cerise. kira had told her how proud she was of their performance moments ago before they had taken off once again. they race towards where cerise was, boots digging into the snow to see who gets to her first.

❛ mother, ❜ akihiko stops right before her, a grin 'pon his features as he faced her. even the young mage who practiced the art of the blade less than his sister, knowing that his true passions remained with spells, had not wasted the opportunity to work towards victory.

ryoko was close behind his steps, nearly bumping into her twin as she scrambled to halt, ❛ did you see that? were you watching us? we've made it into the finals! ❜ she proclaimed proudly. it was she who often trained with their uncle, ashitaka, eager to surpass him as their clan's strongest swordsman.

@wesama , ☆

#wesama #both the twins just staring at c.erise waiting for her approval 🥺🙏#THAT'S MOTHER!!!!#[ ☆ : ryoko ] in character › the jackdaw.#[ ☆ : akihiko ] in character › the archmage.#[ ☆ ] verse › main : present arc.

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dr-demi-bee · 5 months ago

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Gale's act 1 romance is just so good. The more I think about Gale the more I like it. It shows off so many parts of his character - how integral magic is to him, his love of teaching, his smugness, his appreciation for your friendship... But also his vulnerability. Before you picture something more - he looks pleased. Happy to share a moment with you as friends. (During the party he even expresses hoping that he can consider you a true friend. A self-professed rarity for him.)

At the same time he's making this face though, he moves closer to you. Whether he would acknowledge it or not, Gale clearly does seek out that intimacy.

His earnest surprise after pulls at my heart strings. He genuinely wanted to find a safe way to connect. He had no expectations of you returning his feelings (hence, embarrassment - at being perceived, or at not considering your feelings, perhaps.).

Followed by a resigned shoulder slump and a face of desperate yearning... 🥺 It's almost the same pouty face he gives you when he confesses he loves you.

Then, genuine thrill - elation - at the very idea of it! Gale has a firm grip on what he shares with us here - he's still an archmage level wizard (even nerfed), and that's a skill he would have. (It's probably why we don't ever accidentally connect tadpoles with Gale). He chooses after his initial surprise to share a feeling of not just joy but a joy with pride and optimism. He turns *towards* you - communicating not just elation but desire in his expression.

But he immediately follows this with an 'oh shit, stop thinking about it' look and a long shake of the head to clear the thought(s) away 😭 (Because trepidation here isn't about kissing you - it's about the orb.)

But he's quick to reassure you - not just because he knows you wouldn't be able to hide your thoughts from him (not an option - even picturing nothing carries a feeling with it) . "But it is a pleasant image, to be sure." And then he hits you with a confirmation of his desire and approval. "Most pleasant, in fact. Most welcome."

He hadn't considered it a possibility, but gods be damned, you've given him the first burst of hope and confidence he's had in a while. The first time in months he's felt wanted. His posture straightens with the confidence boost. He turns fully to you and clearly wants to bask in the moment - to connect with you.

But then the Weave evaporates. Whatever the reason may be, Gale didn't do it. He didn't expect it. Clearly. He posture collapses and he whimpers like it physically hurt.

The narration makes it clear how jarring the connection ending feels to us (cold and lonesome) - how must it feel for poor Gale? He hasn't had such a strong connection with someone in ages. Who knows how long since it was with another mortal (if ever)? We know from later stages of his romance and from communication with Gale that physical touch is an integral part of his expression of love and connection. And with the orb he can't have it. The loss of intimacy and connection here hurts.

"How easily things slip away from us." How easily they are lost. Anyway go hug your wizard.

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #galemance #bg3 #gale x tav #act 1 romance #a moment in the weave #ridiculously pretty man needs to be loved #in my feels #bg3 meta #my wrtitng

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paintdlady · 1 year ago

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I woke up today thinking about Gale and (spoilers ahead) the idea of him being groomed to think aspects of himself that didn't serve Mystra were lesser then. It's surely not a unique thought, but it's one that just continues to be so sad to me as we learn more about Gale and how there is so much more to him than magic. But what if Mystra didn't care about those parts. And he began to treat these parts of himself as disposable weights upon this version of himself that he's building and hopes will be good enough for her. He discards his surname, Dekarios, and goes by the more illustrious moniker ✨ Gale of Waterdeep ✨. He dedicates himself to his research and magic so wholly that it absolutely destroyed him when Mystra cast him aside. He didn't seem to have anything else to fall back on to keep him going, instead falling into an intense depression.

And while the Tav character (or whoever you choose to play) can have such a huge influence in changing that way of thinking, it also speaks volumes that the second most important character to Gale's story is Tara. His (likely) first and longest friend, and though she may be a tressym, her opinion also matters so much to him. She's the one who comforted him, who became his rock when he was at his lowest. And among the things we learn about Tara, we learn that she refers to him as Mr. Dekarios - persistently using it even when he doesn't, because he was always more than just this mystical archmage to her. And we learn she always thought he needed more mortal companionship, implying she didn't exactly approve of Gale's relationship with Mystra.

It's like Mystra embodies his love of magic for power and esteem, for recognition from others; but Tara is this embodiment of his love of magic for the pure love of it, as something for himself. It's a literal goddess that is worshipped by the masses and a pinnacle figure of what the Weave and magic is, this unattainable figure he seemingly attained VS. this sweet little tressym, a creature that so many write off and call just his 'pet' much to his indignation because Tara is so much more than that, even if it's just to him, even if no one else understands or cares.

He could sweep aside so much of himself that doesn't suit his growing ✨ Gale of Waterdeep ✨ legacy, but not Tara. Never ever Tara.

#bg3 spoilers #bg3 #gale dekarios #*clenches my fists* i am so normal about him #k plays bg3

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pythoria · 1 year ago

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feeling some feelings about gale tonight *cracks knuckles*; he was a child prodigy, he was in tune with the weave, and inevitably mystra, since he was just a little kid. imagine being so in tune with magic, feeling so comfortable and safe within its bounds, falling in love with something so beautiful as a child. it becomes your whole world. imagine being filled with such childish idealism, such hope, that your only desire becomes getting closer to this thing, this goddess, finding that love and safety and giving it form.

imagine growing up, finally getting the attention of your goddess, how starry eyed you must be, how proud of yourself. this is your whole world, the reason you're alive, your purpose in life. mystra is everything to you, the magic in your veins, the giddy feeling in your heart, the proud ego in your chest. and then she finally *sees* you for the first time, you end up sharing her bed, touching her, talking to her, earning her approval, and, you think, her love. magic is your job, your lover, the motherly embrace of childhood. of course you would try to ascend to be with mystra forever. of course you would want power, so she sees you as an equal. of course you want to impress her, she's all you've ever known.

and then when you fail, when a ticking bomb gets stuck in your chest, you get none of that love and care. she doesn't protect you, she doesn't even talk to you anymore. so you've lost everything you've ever held dear in one fell swoop, the basket you put all your eggs in shattered, and you're left with nothing. you're now a middle aged man, your whole life spent in service of your goddess, who abandoned you at the first sign of free will you've shown. you feel like a failure. you don't have any friends, nor lovers, and you fall from being an archmage to nearly becoming an ilithid thrall. and maybe you realise that were it not for the astral prism, you'd have become a mindflayer and mystra wouldn't have saved you.

maybe you realise she's completely written you off when elminster shows up and tells you she wants you to sacrifice yourself. maybe you think "is this what my life's work is worth? a lifetime of devotion? a second hand missive asking me to die?". but no matter how ridiculous the request, you're in too deep now. nobody would care if you died, mystra made sure you were always focused on her, never making meaningful connnections with other mortals, having no friends, foes, or lovers. if mystra forsakes you, you might as well not exist. so death to serve her might be the best ending you could've hoped for, really.

except along comes someone, and they also have a worm in their head, and you team up, and soon enough there's a bunch of you strutting around faerun, and suddenly someone *cares*. for the first time in years, you actually have... friends? and they're telling you mystra is insane, that you've been manipulated, they tell you that what mystra is asking is too much, that they want you to live. and you're defensive, of course. you still love mystra, and you can't get away from her either, because you feel her presence every time you cast as much as a firebolt, magic running through your veins like ambrosia, nectar and poison all at once. you conjure her face to gaze at, and when you start falling for tav, you show them the weave, because that's the only way you know how to love. eventually you accept that you might have to defy mystra to stay alive and suddenly you have a choice again. but in the process, everything you knew and loved turned to dust, and you had to build yourself back up from the ashes, all while smiling and laughing and trying fruitlessly to fit in with your companions, who find you stuck up and weird after so much isolation.

gale is such a tragic character, if you think about it.

#pythoria.txt #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #baldurs gate gale #disclaimer i have only finished his quest once and didn't pay much attention because i didn't like him at the time #of course since then i absolutely fell in love with him #but if you disagree or think this isn't accurate i'm not gonna argue bc i'm just now doing a gale romance run #will also do a gale origin at some point

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vigilskeep · 4 months ago

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sorry for rambling in your inbox but having recently finished a cassandra romance, your post abt people not, like, analyzing her got to me. i know you have arthur who romances(divorces) her and makes her divine but i don't know if you've fully played that out, actually seeing it in-game made me feel rabid. it's kind of an insane thing to do to her... cassandra is the divine candidate who /wants/ the position the least. leliana actively puts herself forward as a candidate, vivienne would never be so gauche as to be direct but she clearly is interested in the position. for cassandra it is a duty she must accept, bordering on a burden (particularly if she can never marry an inquisitor she loves as a result). she became the right hand of the divine as a teenager!!! she loathes the trappings of her name and nobility but she's been trapped by duty instead her whole life. free my girl she did all that but i understand her

it makes me feel insane.

i haven’t played it through no. and i don’t even consider myself to know cassandra particularly well (this is true of a lot of inquisition companions, having never finished the game fully with dlcs and thus never felt completely comfortable watching through banter compilations and alternate endings and low approval scenes and so on.) but from everything i do know about cassandra, the very fundamentals, making her divine feels so... cruel? it’s terrible for literally everybody involved except possibly the snakes in the grand cathedral who are going to eat her alive.

cassandra is a woman of action and passion, brash and violent, a blunt weapon, forthright in both her accusations and her affection. the life of a divine is everything she hates; she might as well be the noblewoman in a gilded cage she was raised to be (in a childhood that poisoned her entire extended family and nation for her), or perhaps an honoured corpse preserved lifeless and useless in the grand necropolis (the ones a young cassandra thought looked so “very sad” in the midst of all their buried, wasted finery.)

i was struck during dawn of the seeker by what an obvious publicity stunt it was to make her the divine’s right hand after her success against the conspiracy. a duty she had to accept, was even publicly surprised into accepting. at her age, would she ever have been put so forward in the seekers to be engaged in fighting such a conspiracy, if not for her name? she would not even have been allowed to join the seekers when she did if not for that. she has no skills of good judgement or leadership and it’s only due to the accident of her birth that these pressures she isn’t equipped to match are constantly placed on her shoulders.

she already wanted to leave after beatrix died, but justinia convinced her otherwise, for a failed vision that ended in death cassandra blames herself for. i find it harder and harder to blame her for dodging the inquisitor’s position, considering all that. and to make her divine... she won’t be good at it, she’ll fall into every politician’s scheme and old orthodox pattern even as she tries for ‘reform’ that she has no clarity of purpose for, she’ll be trapped there for the rest of a long grey life with none of the passion she longs for. she won’t be good at it!!! nobody in thedas benefits either! it’s worse! what the hell

(it’s kind of why i love my arthur and this ending the way i do, because of the equivalency. she does terrible things to him, reinstating the circles while he stands alone as her archmage. but he also did a terrible thing to her, by putting her in this position! by ruining her life and also lying all this time to someone he supposedly loves! neither justifiable or comparable, love loses, nobody wins, they are drowning there is no sign of land etc etc)

#cassandra pentaghast

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currentlyinflames · 4 days ago

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A Reunion - Aaravos x gn!reader

You meet your husband once more.

(a/n: I would like to establish that I have not seen season 7 so this is set right after s6. The world needs more of Aaravos and his hot revenge plans in this essay I will-)

You gazed up at Aaravos, him having shrunk to a human height so he could properly reunite with you.

“Oh, love” you whispered. “I missed you so much.”

He cradled your face in his palm, pulling you flush against him with the other arm. “And I you. More than you know.”

You huffed out a lough. “I think I might know.”

“Did you notice? Anak Arow is gone. Choked and burned on his own pride.”

“Poetic justice,” you murmured, still pressed against him. “Vengeance is ours, darling.”

“Yes but there still remains the matter of the council.”

“The council is consisted of the oldest and most powerful Startouch Elves in Xadia,” you said, pulling away from him. “Going against them means you are either incredibly powerful or incredibly foolish.”

He smiled. “Well I think we’re the first. The archmage that invented dark magic and the cleverest mind in all the universe.”

“Flattery isn’t going to get my approval to go on a futile quest. And what will you do once you confront them?”

“That’s why you’re the brains of the operation,” said Aaravos. Then his tone hardened. “We must get revenge for Leola.”

“We’ve taken down Anak Arow, we’ve tainted the humans with dark magic, we’ve watched the Dragon Queen fall from the sky! What more would satisfy you?”

He hummed thoughtfully. “You’ve made a point. I suppose there is nothing more to do for our vengeance. The human kingdoms are on the verge of collapse. We’ve done well.”

“So we can go home,“ you reasoned. “We can go back and be happy and no one will bother us again.”

You seemed to be getting through to him as his eyes softened at the idea. “Yes, that would be nice.”

“Exactly, now let’s leave all this behind and go toward that future. We’ve avenged the past, destroyed their peaceful present and now we can look toward that future. Isn’t that what Leola would have wanted?”

He smiled and intertwined your fingers together. “It would be. Come, let us go toward our next home. Our work here is done.”

You pulled him along. Your large forms towering over a broken Katolis and you walk toward your peaceful future.

#Aaravos X reader #tdp #the dragon prince #aaravos #tdp aaravos

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crsssie · 9 months ago

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this time i want you, you, you, like its magnetic

word count: 10k || Happy April Fools :3

summary: PLEASE let me rizz you up

The end does not come when you are seventeen and getting betrothed to a random man your parents have picked out as your husband.

The end comes when you meet him, tilting your head at a mauve-haired lilac-eyed nobleman, the son of a count who flaked out in his academy days despite his standing as first of your shared department. He is equal parts a mystery and a man that you find intriguing. The world starts and stops whenever he comes and goes, magic at his fingertips with a flick of his wrist, magic circles engraved onto his bare skin without complaint as you tap the ink through his skin.

The two of you are less friends and more... acquaintances— you suppose.

"Mother, was there a reason behind the choice of him? I believe you preferred to pick a man who had a bright future and graduated." You stress graduated as O'Connor feigns a gasp.

"I was top of my class!"

"Not at graduation." You shoot him down.

Your mother clicks her tongue at you, shushing you as she continues. "Despite his status as drop out, he is next in line to become an archmage."

You raise a brow, and O'Connor snaps his fingers, a gust of wind blowing in your face but missing your mother. That asshole!

You gape.

"Mother!"

"Perhaps be less rude to your fiancé next time."

She leaves the two of you to have tea, and you grimace when he offers you a cup of tea.

"Chivalry has been dead between the two of us since our school days. There is no point in doing such." You yawn, reaching behind yourself to loosen the outer skirt and petticoat, much more comfortable in the pants underneath. "Why did you agree?"

"I lost a bet, so like." He pauses. puffing air into his right cheek. "Give me once chance to earn your approval?"

You don't have a choice, but you are curious to see what he will do.

"One chance."

You watch as O'Connor drops to his knees in front of you, fingers clasped together as he opens his mouth. He looks pretty like this— thick lashes and pleading eyes, fingers clasped together as he closes his eyes and prays, You think he's dazzling. You understand why so many young ladies at the academy were vying for his attention now. Surely if you had been weak to a pretty face, you would have chosen him as well. Though, it is too bad that he is not. Well, at least he's—

You are NOT prepared for what was next.

"PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

"I GOT IT." You yell, one hand over his mouth and the other on his shoulder as he stops, mouth open as he stares up at you.

You have literally never met a man more desperate. You aren't even sure if your father was this down bad when he was begging your mother for her hand in marriage. Is this something that perhaps runs in the family? Maybe you are destined to be hit on and asked for your hand in marriage with so much begging that you could be mistaken as the dom. You are not domming him in bed. You are not that desperate. You are not that much of... oh whatever.

"Why even me?!"

"There's no one else in this god-forsaken world that will tattoo my skin until I am no longer skin colored." He doesn't even BOTHER with lying.

"Okay, if we're getting married, you're not getting any more tattoos in visible places." You deadpan.

"What if you can control the temperature of my skin with it."

"I'M NOT DOING TEMPERATURE PLAY WITH YOUR MAGIC CIRCLES???"

"Okay, way to have your head in the gutter."

"What else is it even supposed to be for?"

"Magic transferring." He gets up, hands caging you in on the sofa, hand resting on the plush of your waist, eyes digging into yours as he continues. "I'm going to do temperature play on you."

You scream.

Sitting up in your bed in a pool of sweat, your heart races in your chest, eyes wide, ringing in your ears as you stare at your empty bed. Oh. Good. You're not—

"Good morning, babe!"

You scream.

This time, you stand in the middle of a crowd, goosebumps along your skin as you look around, exhaling when you notice that O'Connor isn't there.

"Love? Are you alright? I brought the cotton candy."

You yell in frustration this time, somehow traveling to White City. Oh. Surely it isn't with O'Connor.

"What's wrong?"

You scream at the sight of a younger O'Connor, eye twitching as you find yourself in a new universe.

"Stop running." O'Connor grabs you in the original one again, staring you down as he hisses for you to stop breaking the space-time continuum again. While he specializes as a jack of all trades, your weaponry lies in literally fleeing into a different universe when there is danger. Your body can not be hurt when the consciousness is away. You hate that O'Connor at least understands how to put you back into your body.

"THAT ONE WAS WARRANTED."

"Apologies for scaring you."

You shake under him as he continues to cage you in.

"Can you stop caging me in? I'm not enjoying this drama vibe right now."

He lets go, taking two steps back as he collapses onto the couch with a thud, earning a concerned widening of your eyes.

"Your honor! It seems a— ah." Your maid blinks at the sight of O'Connor knocked out on the couch.

"Move him to a guest room. Mother would burn me at the stake if she found out I was leaving him alone when he was passed out." You take the chance to catch one more glance at his face, lashes thick and skin soft as you catch yourself staring at him for an uncomfortable amount of time. Well, at least your mother picked a man with a face card. Perhaps you will be fine. Though. You want to go home.

"Yes."

"And, be sure to take good care of him."

You're going back to Saint Shelter tomorrow. You are NOT living in a timeline where O'Connor rizzes you up by getting on his knees and screaming please over and over again. As handsome as he is, you have a university to attend that is NOT this one. You miss a world that is at least somewhat normal.

Yet, as you open your eyes the next day, you find that you are still here.

Well shit.

#fengyan x reader #o'connor x reader #feng yan #o'connor #lovebrush chronicles #lovebrush chronicles x reader #for all time #for all time x reader #☾.fics

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thatartiststudios · 3 months ago

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WIP Wednesday

Finally started on the prequel to 'I'll Give You My Life, From Now Till Forever' (and if there's any inconsistencies between this and the other fic, you don't see them)

Callum wanted to marry her, he was sure of it. He’d known from the moment he’d kissed her again at The Starscraper. Known it after every brush with death, every time her smile lit up the dark corners of his heart. And now, with both of their 18th birthdays behind them and the war dragging on, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the time was right. The battle against Aaravos had shown no signs of stopping, even though the archmage was somehow weakened. Callum didn’t understand it—it didn’t add up.

But he wasn’t about to question their good fortune.

The thought of waiting any longer, of letting another moment slip by, weighed on him. As much as he tried to be optimistic and hopeful, this war had taught him that nothing was guaranteed. In a world where they had to fight to see the next sunrise, he didn’t want to risk another day without taking this step.

He couldn’t bear the thought of looking back and regretting not seizing the moment, not telling Rayla how much she meant to him, not making her his forever.

Though this would prove easier said than done. Callum had long decided that her parents’ opinions didn’t matter when it came to this. He was going to marry Rayla whether they approved or not. But, for her sake, he wanted to at least try to get Lain and Tiadrin’s blessing. Runaan, however, was another story. Callum had no intention of telling him until after the fact.

He decided to start with Ethari. He found him among several other Sunfire elves in the forges, hammering out weapons and armor. The forge was hot, and the air thick with the smell of burning metal. Callum caught Ethari’s eye and motioned for him to come over. Even if their conversation was drowned out by the pounding of anvils and the hissing of steam, he wanted a bit of privacy.

Ethari approached with a welcoming smile. “What can I do for you, lad?”

Callum took a deep breath, glancing away for a moment, before meeting his gaze again. This wasn’t just a request—it was almost a declaration, a quiet but firm order.

“I need you to forge a ring and a pair of horn cuffs for me,” Callum said, keeping his voice as steady as possible.

Ethari blinked, surprised for only a moment before a broad smile spread across his face. He clapped Callum on the shoulder warmly. “Very well, son. I must say I’m not surprised. I’d be honored.”

Callum couldn’t help but return the smile, a weight lifting from his chest. Ethari’s approval meant more to him than he realized, and hearing those words gave him a surge of reassurance.

“Thank you,” Callum said earnestly.

#rayllum #tdp callum #tdp rayla #rayllum fanfic #my fic #wip wednesday #prequel fic #fic: i'll give you my life from now till forever #post s6

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underdark-dreams · 1 year ago

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Hello! I would first like to thank you for getting me into the Rolan boat, this arrogant emotionally-constipated (affectionate) wizard has taken over my mind and he is all I think about now.

That being said, I was wondering if you would be able to do a rolan x tav like a few years or even a decade into their relationship? Does settling into Sorcerous Sundries and becoming a better mage make Rolan softer? How is he connecting with the rest of the magic community (I am personallya Rolan and Gale rare books reading club supporter) What would be some of the major long term disagreements in their relationship and how do you think they would work through it? What would this man's ideal 'happily ever after' look like?

Thank you so much!

This was great food for thought! 🖤 Thank you so much!

I kind of want to work on future Rolan x Tav as its own little standalone fic, because that idea is so sweet—but here are some headcanons on that & all these other what-ifs. Apologies that they're a bit jumbled, I can't concentrate when Rolan

Rolan loves his tower! He definitely feels the weight and responsibility of being the new steward for all this collected research and knowledge. But he also loves that he can go through his books and satisfy his curiosity whenever he wants, after so long yearning for someone to teach him and nurture his magic. He learns to do that for himself

I think the big thing that will soften and kind of humble him over the years will be once he accepts that personal growth will never stop. There is not a mystical point X where he could stand and say, did it, I have reached the pinnacle of archwizardry. He learns how to stop rushing forward and enjoy other things in life, most of all his relationship with Tav.

Once all the Absolute business is finally settled, Rolan will definitely want to lock that down. It doesn't need to be a legal marriage per se, but he is extremely committed to the relationship & wants the same from them. If he had his way Tav would have moved in yesterday. He's ready to wake up next to them for the rest of his life. Buys a house in the city right beside his old place where Lia and Cal still live & can't wait to merge his found family with his new family. His happily ever after is being surrounded by the people he loves and watching them thrive, especially when it's because of him. Having the capacity to care for Tav and Cal and Lia makes him incredibly fulfilled.

Some big potential sources of conflict in his and Tav's relationship:

Jealousy and insecurity. Rolan has some deep abandonment issues from his past, so if he ever felt like Tav was straying emotionally or making him jealous on purpose, that would really hurt his trust. Deep down he needs to know they love him, and hear it once a day preferably

Control issues/willfulness. Older brother mode activated. Rolan likes to do things his way and is very stubborn and proud about conceding to others. He does see Tav more as his equal, unlike his little siblings, but it's hard for him to translate that into actions. There will be a lot of fights over any big decisions where he & Tav disagree. Part of working through it would probably mean Rolan confronting why he needs to control things so badly (growing up without much control over anything in his life maybe? Hmm). He would genuinely benefit from therapy & from learning how to translate all his feelings into constructive words. Being with someone who would stand up to him would really benefit Rolan in the long run, though.

In the magical community: He's got a reputation as a rebel amongst the wizarding community, because 1) he's very much self-taught which is pretty unusual, and 2) not everyone approves of how freely he hands out information about the Weave, casting, etc to the curious younglings who visit his tower. Of course he'd never let anyone get into anything too powerful unsupervised, but after his experience with Lorroakan and realizing that this famed so-called archmage was actually just an idiot who stole everything from more powerful mages, he's like. The strict apprentice system can kinda get fucked honestly. He just doesn't agree that the basics of magic should be kept behind lock and key. Becomes a sort of magical literacy advocate. Let the children read

You might be surprised at how patient this man can be with children by the way! Lots of little magical prodigies hanging around Master Rolan's tower whenever he lets them. He'll kind of scowl to intimidate them into behaving themselves, but inside he loves to see curious minds reading and learning. As a primarily self-taught wizard, he also has an excellent grasp of pedagogy and how to describe concepts in a way a beginner would understand. He puts together his own beginner's magical textbook over the years. Holding the first printed copy in his hands is probably one of the proudest moments of career

To Rolan, Gale's reputation definitely precedes him at first—even before the events at the Grove he knew the name Gale of Waterdeep. Rolan is younger and admires Gale's skill a lot, so in the beginning of their professional relationship he's a bit intimidated. But you know Gale, he is friendly and endearing from the get go. Rolan often thinks if he'd had a teacher like Gale in his youth, he could have nurtured his magical skills much earlier.

Definitely, definitely also subscribe to the Rolan/Gale book club! They become kindred spirits in that regard over the years. Gale makes a visit to Rolan's tower to inform him of this fascinating manuscript that has just surfaced in Evereska, and Rolan is like "Really? I thought the Fae destroyed that centuries ago…" and the two of them just sort of wander off in conversation. Not to reappear for hours. Probably plotting like naughty children over a bottle of wine about how they are going to get their hands on the Ancient Forbidden Book without Tav finding out

#rolan x tav #rolan bg3 #bg3 rolan #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 headcanons #bg3 spoilers

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the-twisted-tales-tavern · 9 months ago

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Breeding gif 1D Glynda and Jaune

Jaune didn't realize when he was hired by the powerful arch mage, Glynda, for a mysterious job, that meant she filling her womb with his cum and making her a half-elf child.

Breeding: 1D

It had started innocent enough. As stated on the request form, he was to meet with the archmage in her tower to discuss the details of the quest. Though serious and severe, she was surprisingly hospitable, and had even offered him a cup of tea on arrival. The drink had a unique flavor, and he’d found himself asking for seconds and thirds of it as they discussed.

And then…she had stood, crossed the room to stand before him…and let her robes drop to the floor.

In that instant, Jaune didn’t know what had come over him, but his body acted before he did—lunging up and grabbing the gorgeous blonde by the waist, crashing his lips to hers before shoving her back and pinning her onto the coffee table in her lounge. In the back of his mind, he shouted in shock, stunned by his own actions, but the archmage only groaned with approval.

“Yes, Sir Arc, yes~” Glynda groaned with desire, her deep green eyes staring deep into his as she lay back on the table, her hands moving to drag across his back. “Let it all out~ all those desires, all that lust~ give it to me~”

And like that was the command phrase, Jaune’s body groaned with desire and he flipped her onto her chest—when his clothes had disappeared, he hadn’t the faintest clue, but his cock smacked onto her ass, and only rested there a moment before he reared his hips back and slammed every last inch of it into her folds. The blonde high-elf groaned out, before gasping as she felt his fingers tangle in her hair, jerking her head back as he leaned close.

“This body was made to bear children~” the knight murmured, in a voice that surprised even him, and he bucked his hips harder down into the plump pillows of her ass. “Let’s find out together just how many it can~”

The archmage groaned and bit at her lip, nodding eagerly—happy that her spell had worked so well.

#Jaune arc (human paladin)#Glynda goodwitch (high elf wizard)#a remnant of what once was (rwby au snippet)#a twisted snippet (not sft snippet)#puppet of own lust (hypnosis)#a den of demons

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crossdressingdeath · 1 year ago

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Rolan: We should have left by now. Damnation. Instead we're just sitting here - practically begging to be attacked. Staying is a mistake. Kyvir: [TIEFLING] So eager to go to Baldur's Gate - do they even welcome tieflings? Rolan: More than most. A few strangers may stare - but they'll keep their daggers sheathed. I'll be warmly received, besides. You are looking at Lorroakan's newest apprentice. Yes - that Lorroakan. The greatest wizard in Baldur's Gate. Gale: I've heard that name before. A young man, yes? Lives in Ramazith's Tower in the Upper City? Rolan: The very same! Gale: Word in Waterdeep has it he's a bit of a cad. But you say he's an accomplished wizard? Rolan: Of course he is! The greatest spellcaster along the Sword Coast. As if I'd settle for a lesser mentor. Gale: In that case, I'd very much appreciate it if you could arrange an introduction should we reach the city. Kyvir: Good idea: powerful acquaintances never hurt. Rolan: If it's powerful acquaintances you're after, you have to look no further than yours truly. Few can match me - in either magic or talent. In years to come, you will boast of this meeting - I can assure you. May we meet again in Baldur's Gate, my friend.

Oh no, Rolan's insufferable. I might love him. He's boasting about how amazing he is to a group that contains a (former) archmage, Duke Ravengard's son and a fucking demigod and he doesn't even know, this is so funny.

Also, I knew about Gale and Lorroakan's little pissing match in his tower in act 3 but I didn't know he'd insult him in front of his new apprentice. Now, Lorroakan definitely deserves to be insulted, but. Gale please now's not the time. I bet he only approves of agreeing you should arrange an introduction because he wants to mock Lorroakan to his face.

#bg3 #bg3 rolan #gale of waterdeep

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ehlnofay · 1 year ago

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Summerfest Day 6 - IN BLOOM

The door to the tower room is much too heavy – that’s the next thing Efri needs to try to get them to change. She has to shove her whole weight against it with her shoulder to budge it, which is a dangerous game with her hands full of books and paper and an inkbottle and pen with a chewed nib. She doesn’t drop anything, luckily; but she does bash her ankle on the hefty slab of wood, which is almost as bad.

She doesn’t bother to knock, because why should she – she entered very audibly. Instead she just marches, vaguely irritated, past the entryway – almost slipping on the silky blue rug (honestly, she’ll need to make them remodel the whole place at this rate) – and into the room proper. One of the chests has been moved, she notices at a cursory glance; the Archmage is watching her from the desk, twisted around in his seat, brows knitted. He doesn’t have his hood on, which startles Efri far more than the change in furniture. (She can see his whole face. It’s weird.)

His lips press tightly together inside the little window left by his facial hair. It’s an expression she normally would not be able to see so clearly and does not make it any less weird. But Efri’s not one to be rude – when she remembers to try not to be, at least – so, very politely and with no small effort, she says, “Hi,” and doesn’t mention it.

The Archmage’s lips go even thinner.

“Hello,” he replies slowly. “You didn’t bring your friend.”

Efri shakes her head. Hair tumbles in her face – she cut it just a mite too short when she gave it a trim last week, and now it’s doing all sorts of silly things – and she purses her lips funny-like to blow it away. “Sissel’s talking to one of the teachers,” she informs him. She frowns. “And Kazari’s resting, but you didn’t ask, because you still haven’t met them, because you still haven’t fixed the stairwells.”

(The stairs are too narrow, the turns too tight, and Kazari – taller than Efri standing on four legs and at least twice as long – doesn’t even want to try to climb them for fear of getting stuck.)

(She didn’t want to come up today, anyway; something about being bothersome. But she has wanted to come up before – like two weeks ago, when they had to explain the Saarthal thing, and a week and a half ago, when they had to ask why no-one was telling them why the College doesn’t have books about Saarthal anymore – and besides, it’s the principle of the thing.)

One of the magic lights fizzes and bobs. The Archmage’s eyes flicker away. “We’re not widening the stairwells,” he says, voice dry, hands beginning to fuss with something on the desk.

“Yes,” Efri tells him, “you are. It’s not fair otherwise.”

He tips his head so she can’t see his face. (It might actually be a more comfortable arrangement for both of them.) “These are my rooms. I’m the only one who needs to be able to access them.” A page slips from his hands onto the floor and he mutters something. As he’s bending over in his chair to pick it up he adds, “If you didn’t need anything…”

Efri shifts on her feet, balancing her books as carefully as she can. She says, “I wanted to look at the garden.”

Silently, the Archmage picks up his paper and smooths it with careful attention over the surface of his desk. He doesn’t sigh exasperatedly, but he certainly has the posture of someone who would like to.

“I’ll be quiet,” Efri says. (Because she’s polite. And because she really wants to look at the garden.)

The Archmage, who doesn’t seem to be much concerned with politeness, flaps a hand. Efri takes it as approval, and goes to set herself on the low stone steps by the bed of soil.

(To be fair, he doesn’t have to be polite. He’s the boss. If Efri was in charge she probably wouldn’t be as polite. She still would be when she liked the people, or when she wanted to – but she’d be much less polite to him, because he’s ridiculous.)

The garden is as bright and wonderful as it always is, a strange little pocket of life bowered by cold stone. It looks a bit like a moon set into the slate-grey sky of the flagstones. (A rainbow moon. Incandescent moon. Are there plants on the moons? Almost certainly not, but it would be very cool if so.) Efri sits carefully at the edge, her books and things arrayed around her, pen set over the paper of her word-book and inkbottle uncorked and ready. (She’ll have to make sure not to spill it.)

She takes a good minute, first, just to stare; the Archmage lapses into quiet scribbling, with only the faint scrape of the nib or rustle of the page to remind her that he’s there, while she eyes the odd pointy-tipped flowers, the sprawl of spiky roots, the tasselled mushrooms. She wants to touch it all really badly but the Archmage told her that some of it is poisonous and she doesn’t yet know well enough to know which ones.

But that’s what she’s here to learn, isn’t it? She picks up the heavy book she’d wheedled out of the Arcaeneum. It’s nice, bound in smooth leather, the pages thick and old-smelling. And it’s illustrated. She flips through, the dense words interspersed with printed pictures of plants she doesn’t recognise any better than the ones in the garden. Lumpy fungus, prickly fruits, tangled vines. Finally, there it is – one of the garden plants, the straggly little bush with its toothy yellow flowers, printed in plain ink on the page. Efri checks the picture against the real thing several times, just to make sure they match.

Satisfied on that front, she sets the book down, holding it open to the right page with the heel of one hand, and begins the lengthy process of sounding out the name. “D – R – A –”

It’s not one of the quicker words she’s worked out.

It’s also a bit frustrating. Normally Sissel helps her with these things – she didn’t anticipate it being so much more difficult on her own. Much harder to focus. But she sticks with it, manages the first word (it’s dragons – what dragons have to do with anything, she has no idea) and begins to tackle the second with a determination that disregards the increased sighing and rustling of paper from the desk a ways behind her.

Somewhere in the middle of her heroic effort to parse vowel forms and plosive consonants, the Archmage says, “I can tell you what it is.”

“Shh.” Efri flings up a hand, twisting around in her stone-step seat to glare at him. “I’m learning.”

He is not appropriately impressed by her academic commitment, but at least he shuts up. She turns back around and squints at the word.

After a moment, she adds, “Besides, I already know what it says.” She stabs at it with her finger for emphasis, reaching for a slip of the spare paper she brought to mark the page. “It’s ton-g-you.”

(It might not be, actually. She hasn’t accounted for the E at the end. But those aren’t always there to make sound, Sissel told her – although now that she thinks it might make more sense. It could be said like gooey, which she knows is a word.)

“It’s dragon’s tongue,” the Archmage says, and she hears the legs of his chair scrape against the stone floor.

Efri peers at the printed letters. “Oh.” It’s a stupid way to spell the word, but a lot of words are spelled stupid. She tucks her slip of paper in anyway; as she reaches for her word-book, a hand taps her on the shoulder.

She looks up. The Archmage looks down, eyes red as the snowberries in the garden (she knows those ones), a hand held out, palm up, waiting. When she doesn’t move he gestures, impatient, to the book in her hand. She passes it up.

It’s a good book. Nice paper. She likes the sound it makes as he flicks through. “Urag gro-Shub let you borrow this?” he asks doubtfully.

Efri leans over the paper of her word-book, dipping her splodgy pen in the inkpot. “I wheedled it out of him,” she says, voice bright, and marks down a careful D. “I have to bring it right back, though. And I can’t take it outside.”

“Hm,” the Archmage says. He turns another page.

Ink drips from the pen nib to spot the page. Efri swears under her breath and blots it with her thumb. (It doesn’t help. Now her finger is just black.) Not looking up from her work, she asks, “What’s it say about the dragon flower?” She hopes it’s interesting – its name was far too difficult to decipher for a boring plant.

“Hm,” the Archmage says again, and flips back. Efri manages an impressively neat G. “It’s native to Black Marsh –”

“Ooh. I’ve never been there.” She’s barely even heard of it – knows it’s down south, and warm, and wet, and that’s about it.

The Archmage pauses, continues, “– but it also grows in, among other places, the volcanic tundra of Eastmarch’s Aalto.” Another pause. “It looks like that’s the only place it grows in Skyrim at all. Interesting.”

“Maybe it’s because they’re both wet,” Efri suggests. Swamps and springs are close enough, probably. Her pen goes a bit awry on the T, and she frowns at it. “I mean, so I hear. I’ve never been to Eastmarch either.”

The Archmage hums. “Neither have I,” he says passively. When Efri looks up, she sees him fixed on the page, engrossed, his eyes leaping over the text like jumping fish.

Brow wrinkled, she asks, “Really?” Eastmarch is only a hold over, and he’s a wizard. He’s nominally in charge of the whole College. “I would have thought you would’ve been all over.”

The Archmage glances down at her, head tilting. “Why?” he asks.

Good point. Efri shrugs. “I don’t know. I just feel like wizards go places. Make expeditions. They’ve at least been to the next hold.” All her wizard friends have gone far and wide. It’s what she’d do. It’s what she has done, and plans to continue to do.

Though she supposes it makes sense that the Archmage wouldn’t have gone many places. He barely leaves his tower, let alone Winterhold.

He’s still looking at her. (He does that sometimes – normally he doesn’t even meet her eye, staring at his desk or his book or the walls or his hands, and then every now and again he just looks for ages at a time. It’s weird. She can never tell what he’s thinking.) “I’m not overfond of travel,” he tells her. The skin under his eyes, in the weird look of the lighting from underneath, looks like it’s smudged hollow with ink.

Efri shrugs. She looks back at her page, marks down the best O she can. (The circle turns all wobbly by accident – but oh well, she did her best.) “How do you think they had to change the flowers so they could grow here?” she asks.

(He told her all about it, last time – in so many too-long words she’s mostly forgotten it. But she remembers the gist; the plants that grow in the Archmage’s garden are the descendants of plants collected by Archmages long before, precious few of which naturally grow in weather like Winterhold’s. So the wizards of yore, with some esoteric botanical magic, had altered each plant’s characteristics so it could survive in the relatively controlled – but still chilly – environment of the Archmage’s tower.)

(He’d talked about it more, something about microclimates and innovation and it’s fascinating, really, but by that point she’d just been looking at the shrubs. He stopped talking in the middle of a sentence and didn’t speak for another ten minutes.)

The shadow the Archmage casts over the garden is long and spindly as a wintertime tree. He replies, “I don’t know.”

Efri draws an N, a G, a U.

“I know what had to be done to that one,” he says. Efri looks up and follows his pointing finger.

She squints, asks, “The spiky one?”

“No, underneath. The little mushrooms.”

Efri outlines an E and sets her word-book aside. The mushrooms he points to are flat and pale, tucked under the leaves of a bigger shrub. “What had to be done to them?”

The Archmage wears silver in his beard, she’s just noticing. It flashes when he moves. “Ordinarily, they grow in caves –”

“I met my friend in a cave,” Efri tells him brightly.

He blinks. “Not this sort, I’m assuming,” he says. “They only grow deep underground, and often out of decaying matter.” There’s a pause; then, “Dead things,” he adds, for clarification.

Efri peers at them. “So they had to make them able to grow in the light, out of dirt.” It’s interesting. She’s interested. But the closer she looks –

It just looks familiar, is all. (Old dust and corroded metal and blue, blue, blue.)

The mushrooms grow very low to the ground, broad and wrinkled and papery. She thinks of touching one, to check the texture, but the idea makes her fingers flex, hands gripping hard at her scrunched-up skirt.

“Precisely,” the Archmage says.

Efri clasps her fingers together and jams her hands between her chin and her chest. With some difficulty – it’s hard to talk when she’s using her jaw to pin something – she says, “I think I’ve seen them.”

The Archmage’s feet shift beside her. “They grow very deep underground. I can’t imagine –”

“On the dead man.” Efri’s face is getting all scrunched up. “In Saarthal.”

She doesn’t think she likes the dead-man-mushrooms. She’ll look at something else, next.

The Archmage says, “Ah.”

She scrunches up her face harder, looking over all the bright colours of all the other things in the garden. There is a moment’s silence.

When the Archmage speaks again, his voice is careful. “I doubt it,” he says. “The fungus derives some of its names from its resemblance to withered flesh.”

“Oh.” That actually is very interesting. Efri wriggles her fingers. Maybe it’s like a sort of camouflage – though why a mushroom would need camouflage she has no idea.

And when she thinks about it, her dead man would have been embalmed, so there wouldn’t have been much decay for mushrooms to grow from anyway. She squints at them, the little cluster of shrivelled-looking things. Still doesn’t really want to touch them, but her stomach isn’t lurching like it did when first she made the connection, so it’s fine.

She hears the Archmage’s coat rustling. He says, “Efri?”

Efri glances up at him out of the corners of her eyes. “Have you ever seen a dead man?”

The Archmage’s face creases; he sighs, a quiet exhale. He tilts his head away again so his face is in shadow and holds out her leather-bound book, his body already angling back towards his desk.

Efri looks at it. She says, “You can tell me the other ones, if you want.” He clearly knows his garden well.

She thinks he frowns, though he’s still at that odd angle so it’s hard to see. “I’m rather busy at the moment.”

The magelights flash. Efri knows she frowns, then. “No, you’re not,” she points out, because he isn’t. Mirabelle does everything. The Archmage sits around being important.

He twists his head to look at her again, his face all lordly and severe. He does that sometimes, looks down his nose all haughty. Efri’s not sure if he does it on purpose or not, but just to be safe, she tips her head way back so she can look down her own nose back at him. Beside them, the garden shimmers, a rainbow bouquet of plants and textures and smells, a round motley moon set into the cold flagstones of the floor.

The Archmage sighs again (at some point Efri should start counting, make a game of beating the record) and folds his hands, with their heavy book, behind his back. Efri’s eyes crinkle, victorious. “If you look there,” he says, “at the base of the tree trunk, you can see the grapevines…”

#I love them so much. this is their entire dynamic #efri barges in interrupts all his work (read: moping) says something unintentionally wildly upsetting (because I think it's funny)#tries to goad him into botany infodumping on her #tells him he's a weird loser (he is)#etc #I haven't gotten to The Part of the college of winterhold questline in my reimagining and I'm ALREADY fucked up about it #honourable mention for this piece goes to wispstalk's Magically Augmented Microclimates in the arcane university.#didn't end up ripping off the phrasing of it wholesale bc I realised that my thing is like. the exact opposite actually.#but it still motivated me to edit this piece!! and I alluded to it!!!!!#anyway #tesfest23 #oc tag #efri #savos aren #college of winterhold #the elder scrolls #tesblr #skyrim #tes #my writing #fay writes

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mnemo-li · 2 years ago

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I think I figured out now why Gromph Baenre endeared me so much. It's all the whump and bullshit he went through. Plus, the grumpy, arrogant, asshole exterior in contrast to how pathetic he can be in actuality.

Let's see, in no particular order:

Getting his ass beaten by the Lichdrow Dyrr and that drow-dragon assassin. He only won because of a last minute trick with the Staff of Power.

I mean, seriously-- fighting a lich with a melee weapon? it's pathetic how low his wisdom is.

Speaking of the Staff of Power though, didn't he get burnt by an explosion twice within the War of the Spider Queen? Dude really can't get a break.

There was that whole bit too when he was blinded for a while. I did pity him then. His interactions with Kyorli is cute too. The eye surgery was horrifying.

Of course, the getting stuck in a glass ball thing with the illithid. That must be so humiliating and it was so funny when the scene keeps cutting to Triel or someone wondering where Gromph is but not being bothered enough to send people to look for him.

Demogorgon. He literally almost clawed his eyes out and explicitly pissed his pants. Don't tell me he doesn't have nightmares of that (or, of course, I forgot that it's stated too that he doesn't go into reverie anymore).

And then there's the emotional whump of Kimmuriel "betraying" him. It's deeply implied that he seriously seeks Kimmuriel's approval, such as that scene where he brags about being able to cast dimension door and essentially do what Methil does. To have someone he lowkey looks up too (even if he'll never admit it) betray him like that? ouch

(He kinda had it coming though, he and House Baenre. but still lol)

The whole transition from being the Archmage of Menzoberranzan to being the Archmage of the Hosttower. Instead of the Matron Mother's leash restraining him, he's now indebted to Jarlaxle (who has his best interest at heart, but a debt is still a leash). He's no longer the most powerful man around. He went from being a big fish in a small pond to still being a big fish but now the pond is an ocean.

#the legend of drizzt #gromph baenre #rambles

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sweetandglovelyart · 3 months ago

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I keep reblogging the OC ask games without really posting any new drawings of my OCs lmao so here’s a post of all my OCs I’ve drawn so far and a brief summary of each for any future ask games. I have more OCs than just these guys but these are the only ones I’ve actually drawn so far:

Cintia (Cindee) and Clover Haltmann: Cindee is Meta Knight and Dedede’s daughter and Clover is Taranza and Susie’s daughter. Clover was cloned by some aliens as a wedding gift for Taranza and Susie and Meta Knight and Dedede went to those same aliens and asked them to clone Cindee for them.

Tache Waddle Doo and Archmage Waddle Doo (Archie): Adeleine’s fathers. They found her all alone on another planet when she was a baby and decided to adopt her. Tache is an artist and Archie is a mage who works for Kracko.

Gemma Burrata (Gem): Daroach’s ex-girlfriend. Her father was a mob boss who Daroach and the other Squeaks used to work for when they were younger. Gem took over the mob and became the new boss after her father died. She and Daroach dated in secret since her father wouldn’t have approved, but they eventually broke up and haven’t seen each other since the breakup.

Ensign Waddle Dee and Lady in Waiting Waddle Dee: Bandana Dee and Sailor Dee’s mothers. Ensign is an officer in the Dream Land Navy and is one of the first people Meta Knight meets when he arrives on Popstar. Lady is Dedede’s childhood best friend and serves as his assistant until Bandee is old enough to take over that job.

Beatrix Kendler (Trixie): Susie’s mother. After Susie disappeared she and Susie’s father got divorced, and when Susie reunited with her dad she was under the impression that her mother had died while she was stuck in Another Dimension. I have plans for Trixie and Susie to eventually reunite but won’t say too much about that right now since it’ll give away some of what I have planned for my AU.

Lady Theraphoza (Thera): Taranza’s mother. She’s a healer (magic equivalent of a doctor) and used to work for Sectonia’s mother when she was the queen. Now that Taranza is king of Floralia, she serves as an advisor on his royal council alongside the People of the Sky.

#Kirby #Kirby fanart #my art #Kirby OC #my OCs #I have more OCs than just these guys but these are the only ones I’ve drawn #if I ever reblog any OC ask box games feel free to submit asks for any of these guys

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blackjackkent · 1 year ago

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Quick and rather entertaining/interesting little chat with Gale:

"Even in such fraught times as these, there is peace to be found in the stillness as evening draws in. I used to while away many hours just like these with my companion - though in far comfier surrounds. She preferred it when we were alone, curled up before a crackling hearth with some ancient, esoteric tome between us, ink glinting in the firelight..."

"Are...are you talking about your *cat*?"

"By Ahghairon's lost nose - no! Tara is not any cat. She's a tressym. And given your confusion, I'm guessing you've never met one. They're brilliant creatures - fine company for any self-respecting wizard. She'd be proud to see me keeping such fine company, the saviour of those poor tieflings no less. And I've given her precious little to be proud of recently.

After I was afflicted with my condition, I locked myself in my tower for an entire year. I was inconsolable, wallowing in my self-inflicted tragedy. I'd given up on myself, but Tara never did. It was her encouragement, her research that led to my treatment. Once we knew that magically-infused items were the key, she went out to find them for me. She saved my life.

She has a good heart, and she would recognize the same in your actions here. I'm sure she'd approve of me lending myself to your efforts."

"She must be very smart, to have done all that."

"Smart does her a disservice. She's a fine wizard in her own right, though somewhat held back by her lack of opposable thumbs. You remind me of her somewhat. There's a steeliness to you, an unwavering tenacity even in the face of, to be frank, quite dire odds. I wish she were here for me to make a formal introduction, but I would never ask her to undertake such a journey. She is safer at home. Besides, she was always telling me I needed to spread my wings, so to speak. Find mortal friends, instead of hanging onto Mystra's coattails. So that's what I'm doing. I hope."

"What if she doesn't like me?"

"She'll love you - so long as you don't rub her belly. She *hates* it when anyone does that."

(A/N: One of the options here is "Do you like having your belly rubbed?" which is a) apparently treated as an open romantic overture and b) hilarious.)

"She sounds great. But I was hoping I meant more to you than an animal companion..."

"I assure you, were you to meet Tara, you would see the comparison for the flattery it is. But perhaps that's not a point worth laboring further. Suffice it to say - I think rather a lot of you. And there aren't many on this plane who I'd give such high praise."

"I'm flattered. Is your good opinion so hard to come by?"

"One doesn't become the most powerful archmage in Waterdeep *and* lover to the goddess of magic herself by having low standards. I assure you, when I tell someone they're wonderful, I mean it. And you...are wonderful."

Gale's tone here is really interesting. Their conversations since the party have been tinged with flirtation, and with this it becomes quite clear that whatever Hector feels, Gale...is definitely falling for him. A bit unfortunate for Gale, given the current state of play. I think if Karlach hadn't come along, this would have proceeded to something deeper.

Honestly, I think Gale and Hector are a bit too similar. They're both private people, both cautious, insular, and simultaneously brilliant academically and awkward as hell socially. Both of them would do best with someone to draw them out of their shell, rather than encourage them to further introspection.

But...Hector can feel the pull there, nevertheless. And he's treading around it carefully, because he values the man's friendship deeply already and isn't at all sure what to do with all the other feelings.

"The feeling's mutual. You're a wonderful friend. Though usually more...erudite."

"Wine is to wit as meat is to... to... oh, I can't bloody remember it. There I go, then, proving your point. Perhaps we'd better leave it at that. My ineloquent tongue isn't worthy of your ear at present. Go - enjoy your evening. Nothing better for the heart than a good night's rest. And mine is gladdened to know I'll have the pleasure of your company again come morning."

#bjk plays baldur's gate 3 #hector carlisle #poor gale #he's trying his best and honestly not doing a bad job #wrong place at the wrong time

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