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gremlinmodetweeker · 27 days ago

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Hope is in Buns, Life is in Stars, Promises in Vain

Okay so I'm gonna be honest, the Local Executioner!König is the hardest AU to work on. I don't often because it takes immense effort, but I did make another addition. This is a hella long post, and hopefully you all like it.

I admit, of all my fics this is the one I treasure most. It's a somewhat medieval fantasy, but the world is entirely my own. This is not your average fantasy. This is not DnD fantasy. This has been carefully crafted over years to be its own thing. I have so much about this AU its insane.

In truth, this AU will one day be its own story. I am telling you, this is a fic I want to publish under my own name. When it happens, I'll let you all know. Until then, enjoy the fic I work the hardest on.

EDIT: I exceeded the character limit. Y'all lucky bastards get two parts. As punishment for my mistake, part two goes out tomorrow.

TWs: Executions, death, gore, torture (referenced), period-sexism, threatened homelessness (it's an empty threat, your aunt is just mad)

Wordcount: 7.5 of 11.7k (This is my longest fic to date)

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Long Story Blow the Cut

Hope is in Buns, Life is in Stars, Promises in Vain

You watched as Luit(1) rose into the night sky, followed by her faithful servant(2). Luit’s bright light cast long blue shadows over the golden brown wheat fields that surrounded the home. Far into the horizon, the Culling Woods crawled in a serpentine fashion through the hills and valleys. You just hoped that the person you were looking for wasn’t home.

You’d made a promise before and you damn well planned to keep it. You repeated this motto over and over as you carefully crawled across the creaking wood floor and gingerly descended the aged winterwood(3) stairs to go into the shadowy kitchen below. You found The Axe’s provisions tucked away in the back corner of the shop shelves, covered in a loose white linen rag. You fished it out and plopped it all into a wicker basket, brushed down your dress of crumbs, and set out into the night.

You thought the night would’ve been bright enough, but you were glad to have brought the family’s old wormglow(5) to light your way as you walked along the road. Shadows danced among the wheat fields as you passed by. Sometimes, a whisper of wind would crawl through the stalks and up the back of your neck. You shivered, pulling your coat around you tighter and hurrying your step, fearful of what might lurk among the treeline. You couldn’t help but feel that the bobbing light might attract more than moths and gnats as you made your way to the Criahlin’s stone. You hoped and prayed that only The Axe would find you there.

You dimmed your light as you made your way into the edges of the forest. You feared that behind each tree there might be a wicked bandit prowling. Worst yet, there might be a drunkard, maybe even a lost man of the village. You worried about their wandering eyes falling on your virgin form in the night. With a shiver, you hurried your step along the dirt path.

The Criahlin’s stone rose up on a mound in the forest. You passed by the swinging remains of long-decayed bodies to make your way up to find the great stone stage cleared of any fallen leaves. You looked around nervously as you made your way to the center of the blood-splattered shale stage. A part of you wondered if The Axe truly was a monster, that maybe he lured you out into the dark against your will. Maybe he’d decided to take you for himself out here under the shadow of the trees. For all you knew, he wasn’t even here, and had set up some vagabonds to descend upon you in the waning light of Luit.

Just as you were about to turn back, you heard a great shuffling coming from behind you.

You whipped around to face down the newcomer. In the shadows of the forest, you could hardly see the being, only making out a great and massive form. He drug something through the leaves, something long and heavy. In the other hand he carried a full and heavy sack of some strange bulging contents. You trembled as the figure drew closer to you, slow step by slow, dragging step. You stepped back quickly, stumbling over your feet as you tried to make space between you and the figure.

The figure stopped when you gasped. Slowly, it raised a big hand and waved at you.

You squinted, then sighed when you realized who it was.

“By Halax, you gave me a fright!” you called out to the figure.

“I’m sorry about that,” The Axe stepped into Luit’s light and threw the great cloth sack over his back with a grunt.

“What do you think you’re doing there, creeping around in the forest like that?” you huffed, “and what’s that in your hands?”

The Axe looked down and raised up the stick to reveal his great black axe. This one didn’t have the engravings you knew of. It looked smaller, too.

“It was getting late. I figured I might pass the time by chopping some firewood,” The Axe explained and gestured to the full sack on his back, “what about you? What took you so long? I was worried you’d never come.”

You grimaced, “My aunt and uncle didn’t want me to come out and see you,” you explained as you brought the wicker basket to your aproned front, “I brought you a couple of extra rolls as an apology.”

The Axe stepped up onto the stone slab stage and came forth to stand in front of you. He picked out one of the rolls and held it up to see it.

“These are… There’s something different about these ones,” he squinted at the offending bun.

“That one’s a honey nut bun,” you explained, “there’s also a sap bun and that one’s a beetle meat bun. I was probably going to take the beetle meat home with me as a snack for the road.”

The Axe gently lowered the bun down to the basket as he whispered, “You didn’t have to do this. Just getting bread is enough.”

“Well,” you shrugged, “maybe you can tell me how good they are.”

“I don’t know how good of a judge I’d be,” The Axe shook his head, “I’ve never had any special buns like these before.”

You laughed, “What do you mean? Everybody’s had some of these buns! They’re the best in town!”

The Axe looked at you sadly, “Not me. I’ve never had one of these before.”

“Never?” you pushed.

“Never,” he repeated, “I could never justify the price.”

“Are you saying my uncle is unfair in his pricing?” you rose an eyebrow.

The Axe shook his head firmly, “No, not at all,” he put his axe from his shoulder and struck it deep into the soft earth, “I just never had enough coin to buy one.”

“Really?” you blinked in a stupor.

“How could I afford a bun when I can’t afford tinder for my fireplace?” The Axe replied, “I can’t afford such lovely things. I’ve always wanted one of these, but two? I can hardly believe my luck.”

He looked at the basket sadly, “I… I can’t take this. It’s… It’s too much. You’re being too good to me.”

“What?” you frowned and crossed your arms, “of course you can! I’m giving them to you!”

“But I can’t take such nice gifts for free,” The Axe complained, “you’re too kind and generous to waste such precious goods on someone like me.”

“Well, not really,” you admitted meekly, “I mean, I did forget your rations yesterday. Think of this as just something to make up for it.”

“But-”

“No buts!” you cut him off quickly and held up a finger to point at his chest firmly, “look, I brought you the buns because you deserve them. I mean, it’s fair, right? I forgot your rations yesterday, this is to make up for it. And anyways, they were probably not gonna sell. They’re old. I mean, well, maybe they would’ve sold, but who cares. I think you should have them.”

“Not sold?” The Axe tilted his head to the side, “but aren’t these the best buns in the village? Father Kim and judge Holten always tell me so…”

“Sure are,” you grinned briefly before frowning, “and as I said we probably would have, but we made too many again. If you didn’t take them, I’d probably give them to a farmer to feed their animals or something. That, or add them to Father Kim’s offerings. That’s probably how he knows they’re so good, actually.”

“Well, anything you give me is a treasure,” The Axe said softly as he took up the wicker basket. He looked around himself, but seemed to be at a loss.

“Is something wrong?” you asked.

“I thought I brought a bag, but the only one I have is full of firewood now,” he muttered, “I… Hm… Do you think you can wait a bit?”

You looked up at Luit and down at the horizon. You’d been out for a while already, and the thought of being out at night, alone in the Culling Forest, completely at the whims of nature and her crew… You shook your head.

“I really don’t want to be alone out here,” you said, “what do I need to wait for anyways?”

“I need to go back home and get a good bag for these,” The Axe replied, “it’d be a shame to get wood slivers all over these.”

“Why don’t I just go to your place with you?” you offered.

The Axe straightened up above you. His eyes sharpened in Luit’s light, ghastly blue in the pale hues of Densis’s-watch(4). He heaved his axe back up from the dirt and swung it over his shoulder with a dangerous grunt. You withered under his watch as he glared down at your shivering form, cold in the night and weak under his watch. You’d never felt so small before. Had you offended him? Had you maybe insulted his good nature?

You were about to say something when he held up a hand.

“That’s fine with me,” he replied hoarsely, “I just… I haven’t had visitors before. You’d be my first.”

“Your first? Doesn’t anyone visit you?” you asked.

“Not willingly,” The Axe replied, “nobody comes to me unless they absolutely must. Even Father Kim, good a man as he is, he avoids coming out here,” The Axe took a look around at the hanging bodies in the trees, “I can understand why.”

You watched as The Axe ducked into the shadows of the trees , only briefly checking over his shoulder to see if you were actually following behind him.

You trailed behind him quietly, letting him lead you him deeper into the woods.

—

The path creeped along the forest floor until it came to a small wooded grove. In the center, The Axe’s small rustic a-frame wood cabin stood tall among the shrubbery, framed on one side by a small vegetable garden and on the other by a lean-to wood shed. A small idol of Criah(7) had been mounted above his door.

“You know, you’re a lot closer to my place than I thought,” you muttered as you followed behind The Axe to his front door.

“My great grandfather fought for many years to build here,” The Axe said as he whacked his axe into a rotten stump.

“You guys had to fight to build here?” you wondered as you took in the glowing candle lanterns way up strung above you.

“Nobody wanted to live close to us,” The Axe explained bitterly.

He walked up to the door and briefly touched the head of the idol and muttered a silent prayer. Once he had given his thanks, he turned back to you and looked at the wicker basket in your hands.

“You can pass me the rations and I’ll bring them back inside,” he said as he opened his door.

You tried to hide the disappointment in your voice when you asked, “You’re not inviting me in?”

The Axe shook his head and nodded up at the idol, “It’s bad luck for anyone else to come in. I… I don’t know how much I believe in all those stories, but I don’t want to test it tonight. Not with you, at least.”

You looked up at the tree giant’s face, eyes painted like brilliant rubies shining wickedly in the dark.

“I don’t really want to test it out either,” you admitted as you opened your wicker basket for him.

It didn’t take long to pass The Axe his rations and get them into his kitchen. You were once again startled by how little he was actually allotted. He only got a single loaf and a handful of plain rolls. It was practically criminal to give the man so little. Half way through passing over the baked goods, an idea flashed through your mind.

“Alright, that’s the last of the regular rations,” The Axe said as he came to the doorway again, “I just need your ‘apologies’ now.”

You looked down at the mostly empty basket longingly. You went to pass over the bun, then paused. You looked up to him hopefully.

“Actually,” you said slowly, “I was wondering if maybe you’d like to eat a bun together.”

The Axe’s eyes shot wide open. His normally sorrowful eyes were wide and bright with boyish glee.

“You want to eat them with me?” he asked, unable to contain his excitement.

“I mean,” you shrugged and stepped out towards an overturned log, “I can stay out for a bit. I don’t have much to do tomorrow. Might as well enjoy Densis’s-watch, right?”

“Aren’t you worried about sharing a plate with Criah’s son?” The Axe slowly drew out of his dark home to stand in the light.

“Halax watches over me,” you smiled and sat down on the mossy seat, “I think I’ll be safe.”

The Axe followed you before sitting on the earth in front of you. You almost wanted to ask him to take off his hood to see the awe on his face when you fished around your basket for the buns. He looked practically euphoric as you passed him the sticky honey bun, wrapped in a parcel of parchment.

His thick fingers struggled to undo the twine, inhibited by his eager trembling. You almost had to laugh at how excited a man born of death and blood became over a simple honey bun. He looked less like a staggering colossus and more like a young boy shaking with unbound glee. He looked like he was unwrapping presents for the first time. You immediately sobered up on the thought that it was entirely possible that this was his first gift from outside his family. What a horrible, horrible thought.

He carefully held up the bun in his hands to Luit’s light. His blue eyes shine with unspoken delight as he slowly examines the treat in his hands. He looked at you, then back at the treat, then put it down sadly in his lap.

“What’s wrong?” you asked as you crossed your legs beside him.

“I…” he gestured vaguely to his face, “I don’t look very… Pretty.”

You snorted, “So? I look at my uncle every day; whatever you look like is bound to be a million times better.”

He shook his head gravely, “No. I assure you that what’s under here is far worse than you can imagine.”

You uncrossed your legs and leaned your elbows on your knees. Carefully, you turned to look at him properly, “You really think it’s that bad?”

“I know it’s that bad.”

You hummed as you drummed your fingers on your chin.

“You’re really not comfortable eating while I’m here?” you asked sadly.

“I just don’t want to upset you,” he wilted under your scrutiny.

You looked around carefully before your eyes lit up.

“I’m so stupid. Why don’t I just turn around?” you offered brightly.

The Axe glared at you, “How do I know you won’t peek at me? You’re not easy to trust.”

You shrugged, “I think you’ll just have to trust me on this one. Also, I’ll be honest, you’re not too easy to trust either.”

The Axe’s stare was unwavering.

“I kept my promise before,” you pointed out, “doesn’t that speak for something?”

“It speaks to the fact you snuck out from under your uncle’s nose,” The Axe raised an eyebrow behind his monstrous dark hood.

You gave him a wry grin, “Well, if I didn’t, I would’ve broken my promise with you.”

The Axe shook his head tiredly, “I don’t think a pact with an executioner is worth a rift in your own home.”

“You’d be surprised,” you chirped.

The Axe observed you carefully. His watery eyes scanned you over once or twice before he chuffed, “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“It’s more fun that way, isn’t it?”

The Axe nodded from side to side with a disapproving hum. Instead of arguing, he simply sighed and said, “Well, turn around then. If you think a promise to an executioner is worth that much, then so be it.”

“It’s more than worth it,” you said as you gathered your dress to be able to turn around on the log. You picked through the basket to pull out a bun and pulled it out to take a small bite. You hummed. Even though the buns were a few days old, they were still as fresh as ever. You couldn’t help but wonder once more if your uncle had his oven enchanted. With how good everything that came out of it was, you wouldn’t be surprised.

You were brought back to reality by a small whimper behind you. You instinctively went to turn but caught yourself at the last second. The whimper came from behind again.

“Is everything okay?” you asked quietly.

You heard a thick swallow.

“It’s…” The Axe paused briefly, “it’s so sweet. I’ve never had something like this before.”

Your hands dropped to your lap.

“You’ve really never had a honey bun before.”

His hood shuffled softly as he shook his head, “No. I’ve only had honey five times in my life.”

“Five times?” you parroted weakly.

“Five,” he replied, “twice as a boy I had a spoonful of honey, once at my mother’s funeral I drank tea, once at my father’s I had honey mead, and now today I’ve had a honey bun for the first time.”

You could hardly imagine being deprived of such a basic luxury as honey. Not a single lick of the amber to cross your lips for years. How many years? You were about to try and figure it out when you realized a glaring issue in your data.

“Just how old are you, Axe?” you asked.

“I’m coming on twenty-two cycles(8) now,” he told you quietly.

“I’m coming into my twentieth,” you replied, “I can’t remember a time when I didn’t have honey with my herbs(9)”

You heard The Axe shuffle awkwardly beside you before letting out a long sigh through his nose. You could hear his hood shuffle again.

“You haven’t turned to look at me,” he whispered.

You looked up at the treeline encircling you both.

“I don’t really have need to,” you said as you admired the branches waving in the crisp wind, “I have so much to look at here.”

“What trees, boulders and orange blots(10)? You can’t be telling me that you find anything interesting over there,” The Axe teased you lightly.

“Well, I’ve never seen an executioner’s home before,” you explained as you looked at the lanterns wound through the trees before sloping over to the front of The Axe’s slanted roof, glinting like the stars themselves came down to grace you, “I don’t know if I’ll ever get another chance.”

You took another bite of the beetle meat bun. The meat was stringy, gamey, rich with fat that pooled into your mouth. A delectable treat for a simple baker’s niece, but not much for anyone else. It was strange to think that even this simple pleasure was beyond The Axe’s means.

The Axe took another bite of his bun, savoring each and every bit of the sweet treat. You listened to him turn again. He was silent for a moment. You wondered what a man like him could be thinking of, but he was quick to tell you himself.

“It doesn’t have to be the last time you come here,” his voice was nearly lost in the wind whispering through the trees.

The statement sat heavily between you both. The weight of his words hung on your shoulders, dragging them down to the leaf-covered dirt around you. The wind picked up briefly, sending waves of shimmering grass flowing through the clearing before it settled again. The metal lanterns clinked lightly above. In the distance, you could hear a spirit spook(12) chiming delicately in the breeze. It figured a man like him would need one by his home. You could only imagine how many had come to curse his name.

You looked up at the glittering stars above, winking at you from their place in the blackened sky. They seemed to stare down at you, interested in what your next move would be. A follower of Halax, a follower of life and creation, being welcomed in by a follower of Criah, a follower of death and grief. The gods surely must have been entertained by the show put on for them that night. To see two mortals sitting there, struggling against their fates like they had any chance to slow the weaving of the tapestry, as though their little fingers could undo the binding that had been formed long before they breathed life into their lungs; surely, there couldn’t be a more entertaining act under the cover of Densis’s(11) cloak.

“It doesn’t.”

You heard yourself more than you spoke. It was surreal to hear those two simple words pass your lips, and yet they hammered your souls together inseparably.

“It doesn’t,” The Axe repeated with a hint of excitement, “you could come again. We could do things together.”

“What sorts of things would a baker and an executioner do together?” you laughed sorrowfully.

The Axe was quiet for a moment, then said, “We could talk to each other.”

“About what?” you asked.

“About whatever we liked,” he offered, “without the fear of others hearing.”

You watched the stars twinkle overhead approvingly.

“It would be nice to be free,” you replied.

“It would be,” The Axe replied, “we could say whatever we liked. We could honestly be ourselves. Nobody could tell us what we could and couldn’t say to each other. Nobody would stop us from being true to ourselves.”

You took another bite of the bun and let a drop of grease dribble down your chin.

“If nothing else…” The Axe said carefully, “it would be nice to have company.”

You nodded solemnly. The forest around you dimmed its nocturnal din to listen to you two lost souls pontificate together, pondering the possibilities of what could be. What would be, if only you let it.

“When would we meet though?” you asked, “and how could we meet? You know people in the village will start asking questions.”

“The cover of Luit’s light does wonders,” The Axe mused, “but I need to sleep. I can’t stay up late like this often. Neither can you. Your work is more steady than mine. I can… We can… You go to the local church, ja?”

You nodded slowly, “I go. I go often, actually. I need to deliver goods to the church regularly.”

“Then why not meet there?” The Axe offered, “under the watch of Father Kim. Who could possibly stop you from devoting yourself to the church?”

You smiled at the thought of meeting a follower of Criah in Halax’s home.

“Would you be welcome there?” you asked.

“Father Kim is a good friend,” The Axe replied eagerly, “he would be willing to find us a place where we can be apart from others.”

“Are you even allowed on church grounds?” you asked warily.

“I am,” The Axe sniffed, “any follower of any god is welcome in a holy sanctuary. I do not need to be devoted to Halax to be invited into her house.”

You shook your head bitterly.

“You’re barely given a seat at the tavern,” you said sternly, “how can Father Kim possibly allow you on hallowed grounds? Surely you’ve been banned? I know from talking to others that people like you are never wed in the church.”

The Axe sighed heavily.

“I am not allowed to wed there, yes, but there is a pew for me in there,” he said, “you don’t see it because I’m in the room below with the other forgotten people of the village. I am able to listen through the grate beneath Father Kim’s feet.”

“There’s a grate at his feet!?” you nearly turned around again to stare at him.

“Eyes forward,” he warned you before softening his tone, “yes, there’s a grate. There’s only a few pews in the basement, but we’re joined by the Sisters of Halax when we go. Maybe, if we go to church together, I can show you.”

You fiddled with your thumbs in your lap, the last of the bun now gone.

“It sounds interesting,” you admitted thoughtfully, “and you’ve been a good man to me so far. You’ve not done anything to hurt me. Actually, you’ve been nothing but good to me. You even protected me from any curses. You could’ve let me into your home, but you were kind enough to stop me.”

“I would never hurt an innocent person,” The Axe said swiftly.

You frowned at that. The Axe surely couldn’t be so simple, could he? The way he phrased ‘innocent’ had your hackles raised in your seat. Why would he specifically use that term? Was he truly a creature of the court? He couldn’t be so naive as to think that the justice system was completely without fault. No man could be that foolish, particularly not one so close to the action.

“Are you sure about that?” you asked warily, “haven’t you considered that an innocent man has been on your chopping block before?”

You heard the hood shuffle quickly behind you. It almost sounded as though he was shaking his head.

“I only execute the guilty,” The Axe said firmly, “Judge Holten only sends guilty men to stand or kneel before me. He is a good judge, and a better man. He may not like me, but I have faith in him and his abilities. He hasn’t let me down once before. I think you’ll find he has a faultless record. I like to think that he’s been blessed by the gods with insight and honor. So no, I am sure of what I said. Judge Holten would never send an innocent man my way. I have full faith in his convictions.”

You squirmed in your seat slightly, but said nothing to counter him. Something told you to try and contradict him would lead to a full blown argument. No man ever spoke so surely unless he lived and died by those very words. A part of you had the feeling that The Axe needed to live by those words. If he didn’t… You shuddered at the thought of what sort of man he would be.

“I assure you,” The Axe said to you gently, “I would never harm you. Again, I would never harm an innocent citizen. I am not a good man, but I am a just man. I am an honest man at heart. I wouldn’t harm a hair on your head if I could help it.

“Unless, of course, you were to commit some egregious crime of some sort,” his tone softened to a morose whisper, “please… Please tell me you won’t don’t do anything of that sort. I… I don’t know if I could live with putting a rope around the neck of the first person to treat me with kindness willingly. I don’t know what I’d do with myself.”

You reached back behind you and brushed your palm against his back soothingly. You tried to push the cold chill crawling over your skin down, blame it on the cool wind and the black sky, not on the words of a man who believed that justice could do no wrong. You didn’t want to think about his words, but you figured you might as well try and placate him.

“I assure you I have no plans to do so,” your face split into an uncomfortable smile, “but… Even though I’ve been kind to you, you would still execute me? Even though I’m the first to actually try and get to know you? The first to really try and be your friend?”

The Axe sighed, “I promise you that I would ensure your end would be quick and painless. Even if I was ordered to nip you with the tongs or screw your thumbs, I wouldn’t dare do that to you. I would never do that to someone I care about like you. I may not have known you for long, but what you’ve done for me in these past two days is more than anyone else in my entire life.

“I would not draw out your death for the court even if they begged me. I would ensure that you would go quickly, honorably.”

“Then you’d take me out with that big axe of yours?” you asked.

“I’d ensure it,” The Axe promised, “I don’t know if you’re aware, I assume there’s rumours in the village but I might as well settle them here and now. Many generations ago, that axe was enchanted to be sharper, to cut more easily. It’s designed to cut through flesh, not wood. It was made to kill, not to maim like my firewood axe. I use my good axe to give quick deaths. Most people want to go by the sword, but I assure you that the axe is much better.”

“You don’t always give quick deaths?” you asked nervously.

“Sometimes I can’t,” The Axe shuffled awkwardly, “sometimes the court orders me to draw it out. Sometimes by using a duller blade like my firewood axe or the rusted sword, sometimes through a drawn out death, like the wheel or being stretched.

“I… I don’t like to hurt anyone. Guilty or not, I don’t care. I just want to ensure it’s done as quickly and easily as possible. I don’t like drawn out deaths, even if they’re asked for. I assure you I don’t. But if I don’t do it, somebody worse would. You understand that, right? At least if I do it I ensure that they suffer less than they could have by somebody else’s hands.

“In my guild, you know, my career guild, I speak to executioners across the land. I’ve learned what those men are like, both from my own experience and through my own poor father. I witnessed these men and I can tell you that they can be vile. I hate to be among some of them. Many are like me, but some are…” The Axe bristled under your touch, “they are sick. Sick and rotten men. If there is one group of guilty men that walk free, it would eb them. I pray you never are unfortunate enough to meet such men in your life. You’d be blessed not to. Or, maybe, maybe I was cursed to meet them. That seems a bit more sensible.”

You closed your eyes and let out a slow breath. Of course The Axe would be honest. He was the hand of justice, he had to be righteous and true. He was expected to uphold the image of the court, even when being spat upon by the families of the deceased after lopping off their loved one’s heads. You’d seen him be slapped by old widows of hideous criminals, seen men try to strangle him over their wives’ bodies. He took all these beatings calmly, stoically, like the perfect picture of the court. He’d let them hit him and curse him until they went to far, and then he’d throw them back to the earth and let them scurry on their way. You could only imagine how their hatred was burned into the very essence of his being.

And yet, The Axe took it all without a single stumble. He uttered no more than a grunt when a man tried to stab his gut. He only tossed the blade aside and thrown the man down, then lowered his axe above his chest. You’d seen the man falter, look up at those impartial eyes and realize what he’d nearly done. If anything, The Axe could be an entirely merciful face of the court.. He was the perfect executioner. If nothing else, that much was about the only good thing regularly said about him in the village. He was the perfect face of the court’s axe. Impervious to suffering, yet compassionate enough to let them take out their rage on him.

But, at the end of it all, he was the source of their rage. Sometimes, sometimes it was for terrible reasons. Terrible, terrible reasons indeed.

“You torture too,” you whispered as softly as the wind blew through the long dead grass.

“I must,” The Axe replied swiflty.

“Do you…” you shuddered at the question, “you don’t like doing it, do you? You said you don’t, but, what do you think when you do it? How do you feel about it?”

The Axe shivered under your hand ferociously.

“I hate doing it,” he admitted bluntly, “were I born any other man I could bring love and joy into this world the likes of which could change the very soil we are born from. I can try to be this force when I help heal wounds of the injured and maimed, but there’s only so much I can do. I was born of death and I am shackled to it forever,” The Axe sniffled slightly, “but if given a chance, I would throw down this axe in an instant and I’d heal the unfortunate for the rest of my life. I’d devote to my father’s studies, learn the herbs of this land and save the wretched from the hands of the grave. I would be good. I would be pure, of heart and soul and mind alike.”

You frowned, “You heal wounds? You’re joking. You’re an executioner; you’re a killer, not a healer. You can’t really be trying to tell em that you are a healer.”

“When the apothecary and the doctor cannot set broken bones or suture wounds, they call upon me,” The Axe explained, “I have… I have a great deal of experience in mending great wounds.”

“Wounds you inflict?” you asked, unable to hide the sharp cold edge to your words.

The Axe flinched as you drew your hand into your lap.’

“Forgive me,” he whispered, “but it is not my choice to be this man. As I said, were I anything other than this, was I born of any other man, I could sow the earth with good seed and save the damned. I sometimes think that if I had another chance, I would’ve been like Father Kim and given my body to one of the gods. I think that I was always destined to follow Criah, but maybe I could’ve helped those families grieve. I could’ve cured the sick of their afflictions, I could’ve been good.”

You took in a deep breath, holding it in for a count of four before letting it all out slowly. He was an executioner, he was a torturer, and he was a medic? On top of it all, he had dreams of being a holy man, though no church would ever welcome him into their arms. No man like him could ever be forgiven. And so, to reconcile these parts was to find beauty in dung, but you tried to do so regardless. You supposed he was also known as one of the chief morticians of the town as well. You’d heard plenty of stories of how he’d been whipped by widows in the middle of funeral ceremonies. Sometimes, he was supposed to be burned for as many crimes as the victim had committed. You could only imagine how many scars covered his body by this point in his life. Supposedly, to maim the man who’d been ordered to kill your loved ones was to give some sense of grievance to the family. It was meant to help them heal from the loss. You only hoped that Criah approved.

“It’s not your choice to do it,” you admitted, “I don’t think any sane person would choose to live your life.”

“As I said before, some do,” The Axe interjected harshly, “and it’s those men that I despise.”

You shuddered at the thought. A large hand settled to warm your shoulder.

“I am not one of those men,” he assured you, “and I never will be. You have my word on that. Not just as a man, but as the axe of the court. I swear to you I am not, never have been, and never will be that sort of man. I am a monster, but I’m a monster of men’s making. I was not born of corrupted flesh.”

“And I have your word as the axe of the court?” you asked shakily.

“My word and my heart,” he replied gravely.

You sighed, ever so slightly relaxing. It figured this conversation would come eventually between the both of you, but to be able to have his word so gravely was a comfort, at the very least. However…

“I want your soul in your promise too(13),” you said quietly.

The silence that came forth was sharp and twisted your insides with a rusted blade. He seemed to meditate on your words as they whispered around you, echoed back by the trees and the calls of nocturnal songbirds. The forest floor creeped and crawled with detrivores, with his kin. You watched as a centipede crawled out from a decaying leaf, curled around slowly before descending back underneath the leaf litter below. How you wished to join those small creatures. A part of you wished to die there, to not have to live in the silence that followed your ask.

You felt tension rising in the air. Pressure collapsed inwards, you saw the candle-lit lanterns flicker above with some unseen, unfelt force. No wind blustered, no frog croaked. All was still to listen to this deathly child’s answer.

“My soul is yours,” The Axe finally said, “I swear upon my soul that I am not a man who enjoys torturing and maiming like a lowly animal. I am a man of Criah. I swear to honor the dead and dying until I too join their ranks. I will not enjoy taking even the most heinous criminals to their graves. That is not the sort of oath I’ve made to my god. No matter what, no matter who or what they are, I promise that I never take delight in harming another soul.

“I should like to help them, if possible. One day, I would like to put down this axe once and for all. I’d like to spread peace and life. I wish to be a doctor, or maybe a cleric of the church. I know that such a wretch as myself is not welcome, but if given a chance I would like to save others that have been damned from birth like myself. I truly wish to break these bone shackles that chain me to the grave. I wish to rise above and see life prosper. I…” he hiccupped under his breath, “I wish to be good. I want to be a good man. I don’t want to hurt anyone anymore. I hate this life I live, but there’s nothing I can do to escape it. Nobody will train an executioner’s son. I was damned from birth, but if just given a chance…”

You smiled faintly.

“Is your hood in place?” you asked.

“I finished the bun a while back,” The Axe said, “it’s in place. Why?”

Without another word you turned and hugged the giant man with both arms. He stiffened at the touch, but soon his ice melted and he embraced you back.

When you pulled away, you could see a shine of tears in his eyes.

“Nobody has ever listened to me before,” he said quietly.

“I think more people should,” you replied, “you’ve a reputation as an honest man. You’ve been nothing but good to me, and never have you given me a reason to think you’re lying. I may not know you well, but Axe, I want to. I want to see the good man you can be.”

“I want to know you too,” his voice warbled behind his hood.

“Then we’ll know each other,” you promised him, “and we’ll be friends. We will be better together.”

“But how?” The Axe asked sadly, “when will we next meet? How can we next meet?”

You thought carefully. Your fingers drummed a steady pattern on your thigh as you straddled the large log. You kicked your dangling feet before pulling yourself to sit beside him properly.

“I think we can meet at the church,” you replied, “I can say that I’m seeing Father Kim and visit you as well. I still need to see Father Kim, of course, but maybe I could make time for you too.”

“But when?” The Axe asked mournfully, “now that I know another’s touch, I can’t bear to be apart from you for long.”

“We won’t be,” you assured him as you soothingly touched his arm, “I have to bring in the weekly rations on the first of every god-watch. I do so halfway during the eighth watch every wake.”

“Halfway through the eighth watch on Halaxwake?” The Axe asked you desperately, drowning in possibilities.

“Halfway through the eighth watch on Halaxwake,” you confirmed, soothing him with your soft smile.

The Axe scanned through his mental list, you could see his eyes searching side to side as he sat scouring his mind for any possible conflicts, but soon he turned to you with a mirthful crinkle in his eyes, “I think I can manage that.”

“It might not be very long, but I promise you I’ll make it worthwhile,” you assured him.

The Axe shook his head, “Don’t be sorry. Any time with you is a breath of life after drowning alone for so long.”

You frowned and held his hand tightly.

“I don’t want to go back,” you admitted, “I wish I could stay here with you.”

“But you must,” The Axe told you, “if you stayed, it would be a worse fate for both of us.”

“I think my Auntie might drop dead of shock if she knew I was here with you of all people,” you chuckled, then glanced at Luit falling down into the horizon, taking with her Densis’s cloak of stars, “I need to get back soon.”

“How soon?” The Axe asked.

“As soon as I can,” you admitted.

The Axe looked around briefly, then stood and urged for you to follow him. He brought you out back behind his home to a small ramshackle stable.

He clucked his tongue, and a soft chittering noise came from within the singular stall.

“Meet Hunter,” he said gently as he opened the stall door for you, “she’s my riding beetle.”

You looked in the stall to find a massive beetle. She stood on six tall spindly legs and stared down at you from atop an even longer neck. Her sharp mandibles clicked as she slowly woke and stared down at her new visitor.

“You have a riding beetle?” you wondered aloud, “I thought those were a luxury! Or, well, that’s what my uncle says whenever I tell him to get one.”

“When I had to travel to other towns for work I put in a request to the council,” The Axe explained, “I expected a rejection letter, but a pigeon told me I’d be getting a beetle. She’s young, I had to tame her myself and she was quite the handful, but they gave me a surprisingly fine beetle in the end.”

“She looks like a stalking beetle(14),” you looked up at her, her little black head at least ten feet above yours while bent.

“She’s part stalking beetle, yes,” The Axe said, “but she’s also part station beetle(15).”

“How’d they get that mix? Wouldn’t they eat each other!?”

“I wouldn’t know, I’m no beetle breeder, but Hunter’s been a good friend to me through the years,” The Axe said as he saddled her up, “now come on, we don’t have much time before the first collection-vigil(16).”

You hissed at the reminder and grabbed The Axe’s hand to help haul you up onto the beetle’s back. You scrambled and slipped across the smooth carapace but soon managed to sit yourself in front of the large man.

“Not used to riding beetles?” The Axe asked as he set off towards the mill.

“My uncle refuses to get one,” you explained, “I want one to pull a cart to town though. Walking can take so long sometimes.”

“Well, Hunter could do that,” The Axe mused, “but she might be fussy about it. I also think using a court-approved beetle to draw a simple wagon wouldn’t go unnoticed either. I can only imagine the outrage when you show up with my beetle pulling your wagon.”

“Well,” you sighed as you settled your back against The Axe’s chest, “a girl can dream.”

The Axe chuckled, “That she certainly can.”

Luit - The Moon, often called the Older Sister

Lui - a small asteroid orbiting Luit, often referred to as the Younger Sister or Luit’s Servant

Winterwood - A species of deciduous tree that grows in the north. Known to be quite a soft wood, it grows quickly and is often used for furnishings of a home. Its cheapness adds to its versatility. Earned the name ‘winterwood’ for how pale the wood is (almost resembling the snow) and how it begins growing in winter.

Densis’s Watch - The way of saying night/night time. Opposite of Brak-hah’s-watch, which means day/daylight

Wormglow - In older times a brilliant worm(6) was strapped to a stick or put in a glass cage and used to light the night. These days, most people use an enchanted piece of metal on the top of a stick or in a glass lantern to be able to see in the dark. Most people fashion the metal to resemble a brilliant worm, partially to stay true to the origins but mostly to enhance the glow.

Brilliant Worms - A twelve centimeter long caterpillar that grows a brilliant yellowish-green colour when they are feeding or communicating to other brilliant worms. In older times, they were captured and starved during the day to be fed at night. Over time, the practice was considered cruel, and by this time it has been phased out almost completely

Criah - God of death, grief, hope and forgiveness. Also known as the Weeping Father or the the Howling God.

Cycle - A year. One cycle consists of four turning times (seasons). Each turning time is broken up into two moons (months). Every moon has five god-watches (weeks) composed of ten wakes (days) broken into 10 watches (hours).

Herbs - Another way of saying tea in this world

Orange Blots - A large orange and black-speckled squash with a notably soft and delicate white flesh. Used for soups or deserts, much like a pumpkin.

Densis - Goddess of night and dreams, wife of Criah

Spirit Spook - Sounds like a wind chime. Used as a way to ward off evil spirits from the lower realm and keep away bad luck. Has varying results.

Soul - Soul is the reason that things be. The reason rocks atomically are structured as rocks, the reason lightning crosses the sky and lands in one spot on the earth, the reason men laugh and dance and sing. Soul is most powerful in living beings (though everything in existence has soul), but even then some life has more soul than others. Mammalian species like dwarves, gnomes, elves and humans, for example, have much weaker soul than that of plantkin and much weaker mushroom folk. However, they have stronger soul than the chiton clan (insect folk). In this context, to swear a promise upon your soul is to bind your very being to the promise. Some mages will go so far as to enchant their words to keep these promises, but most cannot do so, and thus just say it to convey the most important promises.

Stalking Beetle - A black and red beetle (sometimes white, black and red or white and black) with a long, long neck and a pointed snout. Looks somewhat like a giraffe weevil with a more articulated neck (think like a snake). Excellent hunters. Are very dangerous in combat because of their long necks, sharp mandibles and good eyes. Can fly short distances, but not commonly. Very spritely and difficult to train for their energetic nature. Used by members of the court or light infantry. Known to be expensive to keep. Thankfully, Hunter is more herbivorous than most due to her cross-breeding and is thus cheaper to feed. Naturally carnivorous, trained to be omnivorous in captivity.

Station Beetle - A pretty drab looking beetle, usually brown or black (rarely albino white). They are slow but steady beetles that make up a good portion of riding beetles. There are a few subspecies, but most look like either big dung beetles or flour beetles. Usually very good natured. Has poor eyesight but excellent smell and can be trained to follow scents from town to town. Can fly medium distances when provoked. Often used by countrymen to travel from town to town, almost like small cars. Though called station beetles, typically are only for transporting a family and not for hauling carts or stations. Mostly herbivorous.

Konig Dump

Alternate Universes

Part Two

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lovebirdgames · 2 months ago

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Progress Update - October, 2024

It is time…the first Quarterly Progress Update for our next game starts now! And we're kicking it off with a title drop!!! Drum roll, please! Tom, if you will help me out...

That's right! Heartbreaker joins the fray!

For the record that’s not the real logo, just a temporary one that I slapped together.

Before we get into it I would actually like to glance back at the past and detail what our development timeline looked like for Band Camp Boyfriend. It's possible this one might look somewhat similar.

2015-2017 - Writing 2017 - Commissioned art, created social media presence 2018 - Demo released on Itch.io in August Programming hell 2022 - Demo released on Steam 2023 - Full game released

The good news is this isn’t our first rodeo and I’m hopeful there won’t be so many growing pains this time. We're also doing 4 routes and a shorter common route so that means less suffering for us. The bad news is I worked part-time 2015-2017 so I blazed through writing and now I work full-time…and I’m old…and my memory is failing me…but it’s okay, I’ve forgotten all the pain.

This time around we want to be sure we get all the writing down before we start commissioning art. We had the tendency to keep going back and asking for more because the game kept getting bigger (saving up money was also a factor). We’re gonna make sure we know exactly what we want this time. We’d also like to save casting voice actors for much later in the process so they aren’t waiting around for years on end. So the demo for this game will not have voice acting. I believe I wrote about this a little before in our post-mortem. We’re learning from our mistakes, woohoo!

That said, this is what we’re hopefully visualizing for Heartbreaker.

2024-2025 - Writing 2026 - Big art commissioning year, a more exciting project reveal, hopefully demo release later in the year! 2027 and on - Programming hell! Casting! Soundtrack fun!

…If this was to line up with BCB that would mean 2031 release. Oh God. No, I wanna release it in this decade, thanks. This is very tentative and we’re determined to not take 7 years this time.

Enough about that! Here is what we’ve worked on this year!

Concept art: Lite was absolutely awesome (as always) and let us have sessions with her in which we worked on concept art of the main cast together. It was super helpful in bringing our visualizations to life and it will definitely aid in writing the story. I can't go on enough about how wonderful Lite is to work with, and it was amazing to watch her go. She would whip up a number of poses, face types, or hairstyles for us to choose from. It was really fun and we're very grateful for the time she spent with us.

The demo: That's right, the demo is written! Woohoo! Unlike Band Camp Boyfriend with its twisting, long-winded common route, Heartbreaker’s common route is a single day! Alex can sigh in relief because that’s one less nightmare in programming for her.

The demo will contain the one-day common route and the first two chapters of two different love interests’ routes (the other two are locked at the start of the game so you’ll just have to admire them from a distance).

Brainstorming: Ahh my favorite part…talking long walks or going for coffee and coming up with ideas. Brainstorming is ongoing and includes character profiles, world-building, and route outlines. This game has a lot more lore and world-building than BCB, so it’s more of a challenge, but we’re here for it. I've already done a badly-drawn map of the setting. Just need to finish up some profiles for minor characters and do some of my own badly-drawn concept art. Then we move on to fleshing out the route outlines.

The first route: One goal I have is to try and finish writing the first draft of the first route by the end of the year! Which is insane because October is super busy for me, but I'm sure I can buckle down when it gets colder. It's a bit ambitious, but aim high, right?

That's all I got for now! Hope you're all feeling hyped and uh, patient, because we won't be able to show you any cool art for a while. ;v; Thank you so much for sticking by us and we appreciate every single comment that has mentioned looking forward to our next game! Enjoy the rest of 2024!!!

P.S. Today is my mom's birthday and yesterday was my sister's birthday, and also my best friend's birthday, HAPPY BIRTHDAAAAAYYYY to these very important people. <3

#heartbreaker #wah it felt weird to not type band camp boyfriend who even am i anymore #visual novel developer #otome development #indie game dev #progress update #heartbreaker otome

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magnoliabutters · 2 years ago

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• THOUGHT YOU DIDN'T CARE •

pairing: joel miller x (18+, she/her) reader

summary: joel and ellie are tasked to move a package from jackson to san diego. little did they know you were the "cargo..."

warnings: 18+ content, mdni, adult language, cordycep apocalypse related violence & weapons, canon divergence, tlou part 1 & 2 spoilers; angst, medium to slow burn, pet names, voyuerism, sub!joel and dom!reader, age gap in pairing, masturbation, etc.

word count: ~6.3k

support your writer: reblogs for daddy joel ✨🌿

request: by @yourmomsmilfmistress; katrina babes, i have another idea!!! i was thinking something along the lines of (whatever male character you want/ im not picky) is OBSESSED with reader and one day after a torturous hangout he starts to 🍆💦 ( ya know) after she leaves and for some reason it's not working and it's like he's just edging himself but (of course) reader comes and walks in on it and it's like sub!male and dom!reader smut!!!

note: um… most definitely. the way i thought of joel freaking miller instantly. sub male? common now 😈 we are set in a post-tlou part 2 world where no one died, abby who?, and ellie lives happily on the farm (aka 20+ age). also, loosely following the plot of part 1. for visuals of characters, i am moving forward with what we’ve seen so far of hbo’s part one and game’s part two casting. although as it’s older ellie, i went with video game looks. hopefully that makes sense. enjoy my fellow hoes ⚡️

Don't tell them your name. Just tell them you're there to see Maria.

His words keep running through your head as you gallop atop your trusted steed, Horse. He told you, repeatedly, that they will find you - not the other way around. All you needed to do was get to the vicinity of Jackson County. Well, you are about a mile into said county and you haven't come across a single person. Let alone, a single runner.

The two things cannot co-exist this far from the cities. If there are no runners or clickers, then there must be people. If there are infected, there are no people. But emptiness? That is something unheard of. It puts you on edge. You swear you want to just yell, yell to draw something out. But that would be stupid. You don't know how many are out here ... people or infected.

You hop over a razor wired fence in the middle of the road. Its height hits a the top of your knee. Perfect stop runners. Your first sign that people have been in this neck of the woods. The deeper you get into Jackson County, you wonder why all you need to say is "I'm here to see Maria." Would these people attack you and saying those words would be the only thing to stop them? Or are they dumb enough to bring just about anyone back into their town? You have absolutely no clue what he has signed you up for.

Fear stands your hairs on end. It fuels your adrenaline and heart as Horse guides you into an opened field. On the main road, you read a sign that displays "surface may be icy." You're thankful you were assigned this job in the middle of July. In front of you, you note green ivory glued to the brick walls of an old music store. The roads were shit, as usual. Cracks and bumps from overgrowth and lack of maintenance. You hope they are not too rough on Horse's shoes. She had them switched out in Colorado, back when you saw your people last.

Horse abruptly stops. Harsh enough for your full body to push up against her back. "Fuck," you grumble with a hand to your head. "What the hell?" You slowly open your eyes to note the clicker before you. With widening eyes, you swiftly reach to unhook your knife from the saddle. As quiet as a mouse, you hop off of the pillion and carefully land your feet on the grass below. You side step as you make your way closer. its clicks grow louder as it uses its echolocation in the opposite direction.

Your eyes are constantly moving, wondering if there are any other infected around. There is luckily no movement. Just one single clicker. The fungi sporadically growing throughout its body. The cordyceps on full display on its face - if you can even call it a face. In your last two steps, you rush up to it. You hook your arm over its chest. Your fingers curve over its shoulder as you grip tightly against the rough flesh. With your other hand, you stab your knife into the crook of its neck. It quickly became limp in your arms. You let slide off your body and ultimately onto the road.

"Drop the knife," you hear behind you. The voice is rough and booming. You gradually put your hands up. You drop the knife, careful to have it fall upon its hilt and not its blade. "On your knees," it bellows. You laugh, tilting your head to the side. "No can do," you scoff. "I only get on my knees when I want to." The man behind you laughs as he slowly walks up to you. His boots crunching against the dirt and gravel.

"On your knees," another voice appears. Despite its higher tone, it is just as rough. A smile grows upon your face as you carefully drop to your knees. "Oh for you, of course," you mutter to the woman. She quickly grabs hold of your wrist and places it behind your back. Her grip harsh and tight. You release a laugh as you lean back into your captor. "I'm here for Maria," you mutter.

Abruptly, the movements behind you stop. The grasp remains tight. "Maria?" the exasperated man's voice pushes through the air. His boots' steps become faster as he rushes behind you. "Why?" the woman asks. You feel the cool head of a gun at the back of your neck. "Hey, hey, hey," you furiously mumble. "I-I'm a smuggler. I'm with a group of people who told me Maria owes them one. I just got sent here for her to pay the debt."

The gun is pressed harder against your neck. "What debt?" the man's voice asks. You move your head to the side, attempting to pull yourself away from the gun's focused point. The gun holder makes sure it stays against your skin despite your movements. "I don't even know, man. I was just sent here. They told me to say 'I'm here for Maria' and that she would know what to do," you spit out.

You hear the man pace behind you. He sighs heavily. His voice hushed as he speaks towards the woman. "I don't feel good about this, El," he whispers. "Does she have any people in her past?" the woman asks. "Not that I know of," he says as those steps draw closer once more. You are suddenly pushed to the ground. You cut up your chin as you couldn't catch yourself in time. "Fuck," you mutter into the ground. "Your name," he mumbles. "I don't have time for games." You yell as your palms lay flat against the surface. "Rita," you quickly lie.

"Alright, Rita," the man's voice bustles behind you. "Let's go." Next thing you knew, a bag was pulled over your head. Your head was then banged against the hard rubber bedding of a truck.

They grip against the bag over your head so hard that it pulls on some of your hair as it uncovers your face. Your eyes slowly blink to adjust to the light. "Shit," you grumble as you relax your arms, only to realize that you were tied to a chair. Rope. Fuck, you think. Rope hurts the most.

"Now, Rita, I'm not going to ask again. Why are you here for Maria?" The familiar voice asks. You squint to look in his direction. A latino man with slicked black hair crouches before you. You look behind him to recognize that you were in a stable - a wooden stable. There is hay all over the floor, but no horses. What kind of stable doesn't have horses? As your eyes trail back towards your feet, you note red splotches staining the wooden floor below you. "Damn it," you whisper the elongated swear under your breath. You know exactly what kind of place this is.

"I told you already, man," you whine. "My people didn't tell me shit. Just that I was assigned a job and Maria owed a ride." You look into the brown eyes staring holes into your face. "I'm here to collect on that ride," you whisper. "To where?" the man asks. "I'll tell Maria ... once I get my ride," you answer with a smirk. The man raises his fist as his upper lip tenses. You wince at the sight.

“Tommy!” You recognize the woman’s voice as he holds back his fist. She walks out from the darkness of one of the stables. You smile at the sight. She looks younger than you. Her reddish brown hair gave you goosebumps. Her eyes a greenish blueish grey. Something you would have envied as a child. She some how looks sweet, but also has clearly endured so much in her short time.

“So, we have Tommy,” you share as you nod towards the man. “And El,” you murmur as you look up to her. You smile - a smile that El winces at. “I’m not here to cause trouble,” you sigh as you attempt to shrug against the chair. “I don’t want to give anyone grief. I just need to talk to-” Suddenly, a remarkable woman bursts through the doors. Another man at her side. Her eyes serious and hellbent. Her skin a deep and beautiful brown. She is undeniably gorgeous, and surprisingly pregnant. She definitely had the glow, complete with her large firmed bump. “Tommy, what the hell is this?” she asks sternly.

Maria, you think. They never gave you a picture, but you knew from the second she commanded that room. The second both Tommy and El backed away from you. Their hands either up or open at their sides. She was in charge. And she was headed right for you. “Maria,” you say with a sing songy voice. Her head shoots your way. “I need a ride.”

Maria stares down at your smile. Her upper lip pulls, just like Tommy’s. “Where?” she asks calmly. “San Diego,” you answer. “San Diego?” she scoffs. “I don’t owe them that much.” You tilt your head, smiling to yourself. “Well, someone thinks you do,” you smirk. Tommy grunts as he steps towards you. Maria quickly puts out an arm across his chest.

With a sigh, she returns her gaze to you. Her arm still across his chest. You are curious about those two. “I obviously can’t take you myself,” she mutters. “Obviously,” you affirm as you nod towards her stomach. “I’ll find you someone. You’ll leave in the morning,” she says carelessly. She turns around and speaks to her people. “Untie her,” she says under her breath.

The man who walked in with her quickly follows through with her demand. You rub your wrists and forearms where the rope’s red rings pressed into your skin. You stand with the devil’s smile across your face. El is the first to walk up to you, while Tommy’s eyes are still daggers. “Hey, sorry,” she says as she rubs the back of her neck. “Things didn’t go so well the last time a new person asked about one of our people.” You hum as you nod. “Make sense,” you say under your breath as you return your gaze to Tommy.

“Maria’s his wife,” El adds as she follows your eyes. “He’s been extra sensitive, given the baby and all.” You smile at her words. She pulls your attention. “It’s also Ellie by the way,” she mumbles. She gestures goodbye and walks out. “Rita?” the man asks. You look at him with confusion. “My name’s Jesse. Come on, follow me.” With hesitation, you follow the tall man out into the dark night.

Your eyes quickly fall upon the string lights crossing from building to building. It is so beautiful your mouth gapes open. “We have a small bed and breakfast for travelers,” he shares as he points to a building at the end of the street. “Shit - a bed and breakfast?” you scoff under your breath. As you walk, you note the happy and clean people randomly walking about. They are loud - comfortably loud. It must be nice.

“Where you from?” Jesse asks. His gaze stuck on you. “I don’t do small talk,” you say with a weak smile. “I don’t mean to be rude.” He laughs, raising his hands. “No, I get it. Just trying to make conversation,” he answers. “Oh, well if we’re making conversation, tell me what your favorite color is,” you teasingly laugh. He chuckles, shooting you a sweet smile. “Orange,” he scoffs. “You?” You nod, smiling as you step onto the front deck of this apparent bed and breakfast. “Green.”

With quick goodbyes, you go inside and easily secure your room. The room is on the first floor. Inside the small space, you have a worn down desk, chair, and bed. Your pack is already resting against the foot of the bed frame. You grab the back of the chair and hook it underneath the door’s knob. You turn the lock and deadbolt the door. When you finally lay back to rest, you reflect on your day. It didn’t go as well as you had hoped - as you had been told. But at least you are alive. At least you are on your way to San Diego.

After the best sleep of your life, Jesse led you to a building across the way. Maria, Tommy, Ellie, Jesse, another woman and a man sit alongside a long dinner table. The woman appears sweet. She sits closely to Ellie. The man is something else. His demeanor laid back, like he had no care in the world. His face kind, but also worn thin after years of this shit world. You can immediately see through the facade and know he is good. But damn does he give off such a strong guard dog vibe. He has random patches of grey amongst his black hair and beard. His eyes dark, but youthful. You struggle to keep your eyes off of him. He watches you, though. He sized you up as soon as you walked through the door.

“Rita,” Maria calls out. You are too busy attempting to watch him through your eye lashes. “Rita,” she says louder. You quickly turn your attention to her. Only now remembering that Rita was the name you gave them. “Yes,” you answer with high energy. “These are my best people,” she shares. “I want Joel and Ellie on this.” Ellie sits up straight, shocked as she exchanges looks with the girl beside her. The two begin to discuss in hushed tones. The man abruptly turns towards Maria, disingenuously laughing under his breath. “No, Maria,” he scoffs. “That ain’t happening.” The man stands, his hands firm against the table. He must be Joel. Rarely have you met someone who’s name perfectly fits them. It makes you smile.

Maria sighs as though she saw this coming. “I would go myself-” she starts. “So let me go,” Tommy interjects. Joel and Maria quickly respond “no” in unison. Maria takes a breath as she slowly looks to her partner. “I’m about to pop. You can’t go,” she whispers. “I need you.” Tommy solemnly nods as he looks back towards the rest of the group. Maria turns back to Ellie with patient eyes. “Ellie, Dina - are y’all okay with this?” she asks. Dina nods, looking at Ellie. "J.J. will be fine. You should go," she whispers. Ellie then turns to Maria and nods.

Joel's scoff could be heard from two buildings down. "This is bullshit, Maria and you know it," he yells as he slams his hand against the table. Tommy stands, pointing towards him. "Watch it, Joel," he warns through gritted teeth. Maria takes a breath as she looks between Ellie and Joel. "You two have gone across state lines more times than any of us. This should be easy as pie," she says softly. He rolls his eyes as a deep, unenthused chuckle falls from his lips. "What's the cargo?" he asks with furrowed brows as he looks off in the distance.

Maria turns towards you. She rakes over you with slight confusion and hesitation. Within a second, there was a moment where her face smoothed out. She took a breath and returned to Joel. "She is," she states with finality. Your face remains looking down the table, but your eyes travel to Joel's seat. He gradually turns to look at the group. With a guttural growl, he says, "Absolutely not." Maria throws her hands up. "Joel, they will come to collect. I will not put anyone else's life in danger," she yells.

"If they come to collect, they can take her dead body," Joel booms as he pulls a gun from his holster and points it towards your head. You remain still. Your breathing intensified as the remainder of the group stands to their feet. "Joel," Maria says softly. "We need her - whether you like it or not. We need her in San Diego." Joel exhales through his flared nostrils. His mouth tight as he looks down at you through the sights of his pistol.

"What's so important about her?" he asks as he lowers the gun. Maria sighs in relief. "I don't know," she shakes her head. "All I know is these people helped us in a pinch back when me and dad started up. They said they'd come to collect and all they needed was a team to get something to San Diego." Tommy watches her intently. It must have been the first time she shared this with him. "I've seen what these people have done when groups don't pay up, Joel," she mutters. "We will not win that fight without losing everything."

Joel sucks his tongue against the back of his teeth. He holsters his gun and walks towards the front door. He hooks a backpack over his shoulder and turns back towards the group. "Ellie?" he asks as he slowly opens the door. You turn to watch Ellie kiss Dina. She presses her head against hers and whispers things you cannot make out. They separate with a strong embrace. Ellie walks towards Joel. "You coming, Rita?" she calls out behind her. You stand immediately. Your shocked eyes fall upon Maria and Tommy as you attempt to process everything that has happened in the past few minutes. You grab your pack and walk out to meet the pair in the street.

Ellie watches Joel with trust and a hint of distaste. You wonder about their story. As you walk up, the two stop talking and turn to look at you. "Hello," you greet awkwardly. "While we're out there, you do exactly what I say - when I say. Understand?" Joel says sternly as he points a finger in your face. How could those sweet eyes simultaneously look so threatening? "Understood," you whisper under your breath as you exchange looks with Ellie.

Joel quickly turns and heads straight to what looks like a mechanic's garage. "Does he always have a stick up his ass?" you ask as you skip to catch up with Ellie. She smiles, nervously biting her lip. "At first," she mutters under her breath as her eyes remain on him. "The Chevy," he asks a man standing behind the desk. He promptly hands him keys without question. You nod, noting how nice it must be to live in Jackson.

"Chevy, huh?" you say, attempting to start a conversation with the man. Joel completely ignores you as he slides the keys into the door handle. "Nice try, but he's not going to crack for a while," Ellie whispers in your ear as she walks to the other side of the truck. You laugh as you open the side door and hop into the backseat. "Seatbelt," he says softly as he points Ellie's way. "Oh," she mutters as she slides it over her body and clips it at her side.

The three of you sat in silence for the first hour of the trip. It was unbearably boring. Wyoming's sights were not as incredible outside of Jackson county. You wish you could sleep, but did not trust the two enough to even try. "Joel," Ellie starts but continues to laugh. "Remember when we cleared this hotel. Remember the tomatoes?" She laughs so hard that she holds her stomach. She leans fully against the passenger seat as she kicks her feet up. You swear you watch Joel crack a smile as he watches the girl burst into a laughing fit. You wish you got a better look.

"What happened with the tomatoes?" you curiously ask Ellie. She turns, struggling to speak between laughs. As she starts, Joel quickly interrupts her. "Don't tell her anything. She's cargo, nothing more," he instructs. Ellie sinks into her chair. Her expression perplexed as she seemed excited to share. "Just cargo, huh?" you taunt. His face remains still as he eyes focus on the road. "Wow, you Jackson people are the sweetest I've ever met," you say sarcastically. "Maybe I should just dip out on this trip. I can probably make it on my own."

Joel quickly slams against the breaks. Your shoulder digs into the back of his seat as you let out a stunned groan. "What the hell?!" you yell. "We are taking you to San Diego, or we are taking your body," he turns to say with stern eyes. You place distance between you two. A sudden rush of alertness and danger bursting through your body. "Let me be clear. I don't care if you're dead or alive by the end of this trip. We are paying off Maria's debt," he seethes. "I'd recommend shutting up if you plan to get there alive."

You suck your tongue against your cheek as you laugh under your breath. You lean back harshly against the back of your seat. "Eyes on the road, asshole," you say as you nonchalantly gesture towards the street. He rolls his eyes as he faces forward behind the wheel. He presses on the gas gradually. Ellie sits in awkward silent with a tight lip. She finds comfort in looking out the window.

Less than a week has gone by and you are barely crossing the border into Utah. In each passing day, you learn something new about Ellie. She loves to draw. She met her partner, Dina, on the first day she got to Jackson. Her son is named after Jesse and Joel. She calls him her "potato" - an incredible nickname you find endearing. The days are starting to blend together, but Ellie remains a highlight of each.

Joel, on the other hand, has remained annoyingly silent. He solely speaks to Ellie. If he does choose to talk to you, it is usually some demand where he forgot how to say "please." He is abundantly cold. It is infuriating. Here and there, you catch him staring your way. His glimpses seem familiar, as opposed to his usual and intentional looks of anger.

He never looks at your eyes, but his gaze tends to fall on your lips and hair. Any time you caught his eye line, he would immediately look away. The way his gaze lingered on you always left you in a ball of confusion. You thought you would have been on edge, being stared at for hours on end. Yet, you loved it. It made you feel seen. It made you feel beautiful. If he wasn't so vocal about his disapproval, you would think he had a "thing" for you. For now, you just enjoy his looks - hoping they are filled with adoration and not hatred.

Luckily for the three of you, communication was not needed as much when taking out the infected. The trio even came across a group of clickers a day ago. Without saying a word, the three put on their gas masks and stepped into the spores. They could all hear the clicking echoing through the old and damaged walls. With only nods and looks, the three separated and silently took down each clicker.

You turned to look at them with excitement. “That was awesome!” you said joyously. “Very SWAT-team.” Ellie was kind enough to crack a smile as she cleaned her blade on the side of her jeans. You turned to Joel, waiting for any reaction. He gave you absolutely nothing. He shook off the blood on his machete and gracefully placed it back onto his backpack. He then immediately moved toward the cabinets in front of him to search for supplies. God, did he really not have a sense of humor?

Tonight, you find yourself resting beside Ellie in a closed off room. The day was once again filled with ambiguous look exchanges with Joel. Your body aches from taking out runners. You wonder if you'll be in pain for the entire trip. The room rests at the end of a long hallway with no other entrances or exits. The only doorway to the outside was located at the end of the hallway and was guarded by the one, Joel Miller. You continued to wrestle with sleep as you lay uncomfortably in your sleeping bag. You have now spent hours staring at the plant infested ceiling. Ellie, luckily, rests peacefully at your side. She felt safe enough to put earbuds in to help her sleep. Another thing of hers to be jealous of.

After a few hours, you decide that it will most likely be impossible for you to sleep tonight. You quietly stand and put your pajama shorts over your undies. You open the door into the hallway. It's long corridor was scarier at night. You pull your flashlight from your pocket. Clicking it on, you remind yourself that the only door is at the very front. You would undeniably see if anyone entered the dark hallway with you.

As you reach the end of the hall, you begin to hear quiet moans coming from the other side of the door. Your mind quickly rushes to the thought of a runner making their way inside. But once you hear slight heavy breathing and groans, you immediately recognize that the sounds were coming from Joel. Excitement bursts through your chest as you press your ear against the door. You could not have imagined a better sound escaping his lips. His groans sound so sweet, so supple. You wish you could be the reason they fall from his lips.

You nervously turn back to see that the door at the other end of the lengthy hallway remained close. There was no way anyone would be able to hear at the other end. Not unless they were right where you were standing. With a smile, you hear his breathing louden. You wish you could see him. See his brows pulling together as his mouth hangs open. You wish you could watch him stroking himself. You would bet on your life that his cock was large and girthy. You have been stealing glances of it beneath his tight jeans.

Your mouth starts to water as you hear his moans grow louder. It takes all your strength and will not to burst through the doorway and beg him to let you help. God, would you absolutely beg for that man - without question. You wonder who's on his mind. Who could possibly be the lucky person whom he is wanking off to? Your legs feel weak. You actually contemplate sitting down and playing with yourself alongside his intoxicating moans.

“Oh, Rita,” you hear fall from his mumbling lips. Your entire body lights up with pleasure. He is thinking about you… Your legs buckle beneath you as you struggle to stay standing. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you hear escape his lips. He must be close. You swear you can hear the slapping against his skin. All your blood rushes towards your clit. You want him - bad.

Out of no where, Joel stops. You hear a sound of frustration but remain curious. Was he edging himself? Shit. Why is that even hotter? you think to yourself. His moans slowly start again. Your mouth hangs open as you tighten your knees together. The friction feels good but it’s definitely not enough. You wish you could touch him. You wish he would be muttering your name as your hand strokes his dick. You wish his big hands could hold your head down as you take all of him in your mouth.

Almost as though you two were connected, Joel’s moans started to repeat more and more. His breathing heavies as your knees tighten harsher and harsher against themselves. Your clit now pulsating, desperate for stimulation. You cover your mouth, hoping your own gasping breaths were not loud enough to hear in the other room.

His voice strains as he gets closer and closer. He mumbles again, “Yes, Rita.” Shit, why aren’t you already in there? Your entire body is on fire but, oh, so nervous. You hear his skin slapping against each other. His moans growing louder. You hear a bump against the wall. His voice begins to break. God, he’s so fucking close.

“Oh baby just like that,” Joel whines. “Cum for me,” you whisper on repeat. Then silence fills the air. You worry if he might have heard you. You’re sure that him catching you listening in is so much worse than you catching him jacking off. “Damn it,” he yells softly with a grunt. That’s when you realize he isn’t edging on purpose. It seems like he can’t get past that final push. To release all that pent up energy.

You could help him. You know you want to. It’s the right thing to do. He must be in so much pain - all swollen down there, thinking about you. You would be helping him. You are so selfless. With a deep breath for courage, you quickly knock and open the door.

You spot Joel in his jean shirt. His legs are spread wide while he sits, bare, on the couch. His pants wrapped around his ankles as he holds his lengthy cock in one hand. His head rests back onto his other. As he hears the door creak open, he nervously grabs hold of a pillow and covers himself. You have never once seen shock and worry on the man’s face until now.

“Shit,” he yells as he scrambles to cover himself. You play dumb, covering your gaping mouth with your hand. “I’m so sorry Joel,” you whisper. “I-I thought I heard my name so I came out here,” you slyly taunt as you end with a smirk. Joel’s usual annoyed face returns as he realizes you know the truth. “Why didn’t you just come get me?” you ask innocently as you sit on the arm rest of his couch.

Joel watches you in confusion as he recognizes your advances. “I shouldn’t have done this, I’m-” he starts. You swiftly interrupt, “No need for apologies. I’m just confused is all.” You gracefully fall beside him. Your bare thigh touching his. The tips of your fingers dance atop his thigh. His grip onto the pillow covering his unit grows tighter by the second. “I thought you didn’t care about me,” you whisper as you lean closer to his face. You are now still, a few inches from his face.

"We don't have to do this," Joel mutters. His teeth locked as he watches you. He must think he's in danger. No, its quite the opposite. "Do what, Joel?" you ask as you pull away from him. You note a chair across from him. His backpack is sprawled over it. You carefully carry the backpack and place it closer to him. To show him that you are not something to be scared of. You then turn to sit in the chair. Your legs spread open as you bite your lip. Your eyes rake over the vulnerable man in front of you.

Joel watches you. He takes in shaky breaths. It is almost as though he is more nervous, now that he understands your intent. "Don't stop on my accord," you say as you gesture towards him. You slowly cross your leg over the other, batting him off with your eye lashes. You gently laugh as you watch him sit still, uncomfortable. "Oh, I get it," you murmur with a nod. "You need help." You watch your shoulder as you slowly push your spaghetti strap off it. You do the same with the other side. When you look back at him, a smirk is shown across your face.

His eyes are darker than normal. He still holds the pillow firmly against the skin between his legs. "Don't stop, Miller," you whisper as you slowly pull your shirt up. You expose your breasts to the cool air. Your nipples immediately harden. He involuntarily bites his lip as his eyes grow full of wonder. With that, he gradually pulls the cover off and shows his enormous cock. You start salivating. Fuck, you knew it would be big.

Joel's thumb starts to move slowly up and down his shaft. His eyes now fully on you. No pulling away this time. Pleasure fills your chest as you raise your chin and open your mouth. You lick your lips, hell-bent on tasting him. He starts to smile between soft moans. His rubbing becoming quicker as your hands calmly travel up your stomach and to your tits.

His breathing shakes harder as your fingers circle your nipples. Your tongue resting gently against your bottom lip. He loves it. His moans become louder as he watches you. "Oh baby," escapes his lips as he watches your sensual movements. "The name's y/n," you whisper. You smile at the shock spreading across his face. "I want to make sure you're moaning the right girl's name this time."

"Your name's y/n," Joel mutters under his breath. His movements stop as he watches you gradually open your legs. Your shorts clearly expose your inner thighs. It shows enough to give him the slightest sneak peek. "And your name is Joel," you coo. “Does that change anything?” He scoffs. A smile spreads across his face. First time you’ve seen it and shit is it beautiful. “Not a single thing,” he mutters. “Then rub one out for me, daddy,” you whisper as your hand travels down your stomach and atop your shorts.

Joel presses his tongue against his cheek as his smile grows larger. His hand starts to rub against his hardened cock. His fingers wrapped around his girth. You bite your lip. You wish it was your hand, but you are not giving up control. “Yeah, start slow,” you murmur as you adjust in your seat. His eyes track you. His eye line at your lips, waiting for the words to just flow out.

His breathing intensifies as he drops his jaw in excitement. “Ooo, just like that,” you whisper as you try to maintain deep breaths. Your clit begins to pulsate. Begging you to jump atop of him. “What next, y/n?” he asks with a gaping mouth. He fully enunciates your name with a smirk at the end. You laugh as your brows bounce. “Hm,” you think aloud. Your finger tapping against your chin. “Have your other hand play with your balls.”

Joel’s brow raises as he’s slightly taken aback. “Don’t make me say it twice,” you playfully seethe through your teeth. He sighs with a smile as his other hand moves from atop his thigh. He cups his balls slowly. A thumb rubbing between them. You suck in a deep breath as you adjust again in your sit. You can’t get comfortable. Your body screams that the only seat you want is on his lap.

His lower jaw keeps moving as deep breaths fall from his lips. “Shit,” he breathes. His eyes close ever so slightly. “Mmm’such a good boy,” you whisper. “Let me hear you.” He gasps as the muscles in his legs begin to tighten. He lets out a low moan. One so deep your entire body shakes. You let out a hesitant breath as your hand covers your mouth. You are trying so hard to keep in control, to be the dominant one - but shit did you want him to wreck your pussy so badly.

“I know you can moan louder than that,” you murmur with a grin. Joel softly laughs and quickens his movements. His breath is fast. His eyes closed. He sits up straighter. His hand slaps against his skin. You spot precum falling from his tip. “Shit,” you mumble under your breath. His head starts to fall back. It rests against the wall. He moves faster and faster. You squeeze your thighs together, holding your breath.

“Fuck, baby,” he whines. You could just about faint. “God, you��re going to make me cum, y/n.” You dig your nails into your thighs. You want nothing more than to see this gorgeous man cum all over himself. “Cum for me, Joel,” you whisper in excitement. Your entire body feels on fire. Goosebumps travel throughout your skin. “I want your big cock deep inside me, Joel. Please cum for me,” you gripe in an innocent voice.

“Oh, fuck,” Joel moans as his brows pull together. He squeezes his eyes shut tighter than before. You hear his voice raise in pitch. Higher and higher as his body moves faster and faster. You note him thrusting into his own hand. He looks so strong. He would feel so good thrusting inside of you. Finally, his breathing fastens and he starts to moan louder than before.

“I’m cumming. I’m cumming, y/n,” he whisper yells as his body tenses up. You immediately rush in front of him. You sit on your knees as you watch the show, up close and personal. Beads of cum stream down his elongated cock as he strokes firmly. You place much effort in keeping your hands to your sides. You watch as his breaths begin to slow.

“Fuck, Joel,” you say breathless. His eyes start to open. He lets out a gentle laugh through his smiling face. You crawl between his legs. His smile quickly falling as he curiously watches you. There you sit, his softened unit before you. “Your turn to help me, Miller,” you say as you bite your lips. His smile re-emerges as his hand pushes your shoulder back towards the ground. His body slides over you until his face hovers above yours. “Yes, ma’am,” Joel whispers as he plants a kiss on your lips so hard, yet so soft, that you completely fall head over heels for the man.

note: whatcha think? joel screams sub and fuck do i love it. also episode 3?? can someone just cry with me about that real quick? shall there be a part two? 🤫

*edit: there shall be & here it is

taglist: @fan-fiction-floozy, @dirtydianaahah

reblogs are much appreciated! feel free to comment or message if you’d like to join a tag list! 🌿✨🌿

• nav • no-no plagiarism • one shot • requests open •

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illuminatedquill · 1 year ago

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Ahsoka Variety Interview Thoughts

Hello, Sabezra nation!

So, it will probably start spilling out soon but, yes, some of the cast members from Ahsoka - Rosario Dawson, Natasha Liu Bordizzo, Hayden Christensen and some guy named Dave Filoni - did an interview with Variety recently to talk about the show.

Now, I know what you're thinking: was there anything regarding Sabine and Ezra's relationship?

And the answer is a resounding NOPE.

But, it's still a very interesting article and there were a few tidbits that stood out to me that I feel is Sabezra related. So, I'll talk about that here.

First up: an interesting quote from Sabine Wren herself, Natasha.

I've written about this before in a previous post but it's very nice to have it be validated here by Natasha: that Sabine is, indeed, meant to come off as Anakin-coded in this first season of Ahsoka.

Others in this fandom have also noted this and this certainly lends credence to Sabine's feelings for Ezra being more than platonic. Sabine's decision to doom their galaxy in exchange for her friend's safety has enormous ramifications for the Star Wars universe going forward - and only one other character has had such an impact on the franchise: Anakin Skywalker.

Anakin made his choice out of desperation to save his wife, Padme. Star Wars loves its mythological cycles. Lucas passed on that love to Filoni so, in theory, Sabine should be following in the foot-steps of the disaster lineage of Jedi she is now a part of.

But, as I've noted before, one of Ahsoka's themes is trying to break cycles. Baylon wants to break the cycle of endless wars, Ahsoka wants to break the cycle of darkness plaguing her Jedi lineage, and Sabine wants to break the cycle of loss that's all too prevalent in her life.

What does that mean? It means that Filoni has the opportunity to do something that Anakin couldn't with Sabine: show a proper redemptive arc. Find a way to move forward with Ezra and everyone else she betrayed. Find a way to be forgiven and properly atone for her mistakes - preferably without dying or someone else dying on her behalf.

Of course, this is just interpretation on my behalf. The skeptic in me points out that Natasha is only referring to Sabine's recklessness and inner struggles as being what Ahsoka sees as similar to her former master. There's no mention of Ezra.

But we know that one of Anakin's "inner struggles" was his increasing attachment and feelings for Padme. So, is a stretch to say that these inner struggles that Sabine is wrestling with include her yet undisclosed feelings for her friend Ezra? No, not really.

With what Filoni set up from this first season, it's an inevitability that - at some point - Sabine is going to be questioned about why she made that decision. I personally see it as integral to her journey as a Jedi. Which means that Sabine needs to search her feelings and come to understand them.

It's significant that Natasha points out the echoes of Anakin in Sabine's personality and actions. It says quite a lot.

And to back up the whole "reverse Anidala" theory I have, here's what Filoni says in this next quote:

So this quote is Filoni referencing Ahsoka's struggles with Anakin's legacy as Vader during Rebels and then later in Ahsoka.

"How does that affect somebody when a person that they really admire and looked up to turned out not to be the person they thought they were? Are we all just capable of a fall from grace? And what is forgiveness? What shape does that look like?"

But, keeping this in mind, you could also apply this to Sabine's situation with Ezra, along with everyone else she cares about that was put directly in harm's way with her decision (Hera, Jacen, Zeb, Chopper).

Ahsoka, having come to terms with her own long struggle of forgiving and accepting Anakin for who he was, now has something else to offer Sabine other than showing her how to fight: how to forgive.

Sabine is, presumably (hopefully if Filoni isn't just going to sweep her actions under the rug), going to be struggling with the ramifications of her betrayal at some point in the future. And, not to mention, everyone else also finding out and will most likely be upset, to say the least.

Ahsoka, armed with her own knowledge of how to navigate that thorny path, can be a mediator in that regard. She'll stand with Sabine, as she promised - not condoning her actions, but providing understanding and her own special viewpoint on how to forgive and move on from such an incredibly selfish and destructive action (thanks to Anakin) - and help everyone else find a way to do so, as well.

I figure Ezra and Hera will probably be the focal point of conflict for Sabine. Hera, for obvious reasons, will be upset since Sabine helped kick-start another potential war with the Empire - something she does not want her child to experience growing up in like she and countless others did.

And there's also the matter of how it directly undermines what Kanan and Ezra sacrificed so much for.

As for Ezra . . . I don't know. It's complicated. No idea how Filoni is planning to tackle that. But it's going to hurt him.

It's going to hurt him so much.

But with Ahsoka's presence, it stands to reason that Sabine and Ezra can find a way to reconcile and build something new and stronger from the ruins of their prior relationship.

Other interesting items/observations from the interview:

Filoni already has an outline for Ahsoka season 2. (Nothing confirmed about a renewal, but he's got one ready.)

Hayden Christensen makes an interesting observation about Anakin's return being that he now has the power to wield both the Light Side and Dark Side of the Force, which also gives him the power to save Ahsoka . . . the same power he was trying to obtain when he pledged himself to the Dark Side during Revenge of the Sith.

There are no current plans on Baylon's recasting as of yet. Filoni is still figuring that out. (RIP, Ray Stevenson).

Natasha sees Ahsoka season 1 as setting up "enduring drama" between Ahsoka and Sabine. They still obviously have a lot to work out to mend their relationship - like what happened to Sabine's family and how that was somehow Ahsoka's fault, also Ahsoka stopping her training shortly afterwards.

There is only one direct mention of Thrawn and Ezra: Filoni's decision to send them to another galaxy was because keeping them in the home one was too easy ("too many people travelling, flying around; you can send a signal and get found"). He knew about other galaxies from a scene in Attack of the Clones.

A word of caution: we'll probably be getting more interviews like this within the coming weeks so there will be, presumably, lots of new info coming in.

Hopefully we'll be getting interviews from Eman and Ivanna, as well, since I'm interested to hear more about their characters (Ezra, for obvious reasons, but Shin we definitely need to know more about) and what they might be up to in a future season.

But . . . some of these interviews might contain, shall we say, indications of where certain relationships might go or where whomever is being interviewed think they might go.

So saying this now: unless it comes from the hat man himself, don't get too caught up in whatever is said. It's all fun and speculation.

Sorry for the long ramble. Hope this all makes sense.

See you all down the road.

#sabezra #sabine wren #ezra bridger #ahsoka tano #ahsoka cast #ahsoka show #ahsoka show spoilers #natasha liu bordizzo #rosario dawson #dave filoni #hayden christensen #anakin skywalker

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ncisfranchise-source · 4 months ago

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NCIS: Hawai’i co-showrunners Jan Nash and Christopher Silber are ready to talk about the island drama’s unfortunate fate.

It was on April 26 that TVLine reported that NCIS: Hawai’i, despite growing its audience in Season 3, would not be back for a fourth season. Very soon afterwards, the series’ cast members one by one weighed in on the cancellation, while Nash and Silber chose radio silence — “obviously surprised” as they were by CBS‘ decision.

After all, NCIS: Hawai’i Season 3 had averaged 7.8 million total viewers and a 0.5 demo rating (with Live+7 playback data), up 4% in viewers vs. Season 2 (but down a tick in the demo). Out of the 14 drama series that CBS aired during the 2023-24 TV season, it ranked No. 6 in total audience (behind Tracker, NCIS, FBI, Blue Bloods and The Equalizer) and eighth in the demo.

TVLine readers gave the unplanned series finale an average grade of “B.”

Explaining the cancellation decision back in May, CBS Entertainment president Amy Reisenbach said that NCIS: Hawai’i, amongst other ended shows, was a casualty of a drama slate that was simply too robust.

“We had to make some really tough choices this year,” she said. “Everything came back [from the Hollywood strikes] really strong, but ultimately we have to look at the cohesiveness of the schedule flow. We have to evaluate the financials and the performance overall, and we make tough decisions.”

Sources tell TVLine that while there were “talks” about finding another home for the series, that didn’t pan out.”

Ending a three-month silence on the matter, NCIS: Hawai’i co-showrunners Nash and Silber agreed to an exclusive, joint email Q&A with TVLine, seen below.

TVLINE | On a scale of 1 to 10, how surprised were you back in April? And how are you feeling about things now, three months later? NASH & SILBER | We were obviously surprised. If we’d known it was coming, we probably wouldn’t have ended the series on a cliffhanger. The fact that the studio and the network didn’t stop us makes it seem like they might not have seen it coming either. We loved our show and know other people loved it, too, but the TV business is a fickle mistress and one can’t take business decisions personally. But it still stings.

TVLINE | What are you most proud of having accomplished over the three seasons? NASH & SILBER | We did what we set out to do. We created a show with a strong female lead and a cast that reflected the diversity of Hawai’i and the world. We told interesting Navy crime stories. All while maintaining a workplace where people could hopefully do their best work and be valued for it. That gives us a lot to be proud of.

TVLINE | Obviously, adding Sam Hanna was a crowd-pleaser — and your viewership in fact grew a few percentage points in Season 3. Was that crossover something you sought out amid NCIS: LA ending, or was it pitched to you by higher-ups? The idea of Sam joining our show was pitched by the studio/network after LA ended. We were fully on-board, both because Sam was a great character, but also because LL COOL J is a wonderful human. The chemistry he shared with our amazing lead, Vanessa Lachey, was so compelling, we had hoped to keep it going for many seasons to come.

TVLINE | Turning to how the season finale ended, what can you say about the next words coming out of Maggie Shaw’s mouth? Did it have to do with Jane’s mom, teased earlier in the season? NASH & SILBER | While not fully fleshed out, we had a general idea of where the Maggie story was going. It would have eventually intersected with Jane Tennant’s mother, but it was also going to move back into the dark world of Tennant’s spy past, using those stories to increase our understanding of who Jane was, but also to learn more about her team in the process

TVLINE | Was Lucy and Kate’s brief talk of weddings going to be revisited – perhaps pointedly — in Season 4? NASH & SILBER | We hadn’t fully landed on what was going to happen in Season 4. But there would have been some movement. Whether it would have been a wedding, meeting families, or some other thing, we didn’t know.

TVLINE | In Season 4 might we have finally met Jesse’s wife and other kid? Or was the wife your “Vera from Cheers“? NASH & SILBER | We started every season planning to meet her and she would have shown up eventually. (Hope springs eternal.)

TVLINE | Was there any other story or personal runner you couldn’t get to in the short Season 3 that was going to be a “must” during a full Season 4? For example, meeting some of Lucy’s family, keeping Peyton List around as Kai’s love interest, anything for Ernie or Carla or Joe or Boom-Boom… what have you. NASH & SILBER | We loved our repertoire of characters and we would have kept using them as much as we could. We were talking about Tennant’s mom and Ernie’s ex-wife, but other than following up on our cliffhanger, there were no “musts” on the list. Our goals every season were the same: tells good stories with these great actors.

TVLINE | Was there any character you were excited to add in Season 4? NASH & SILBER | See above.

Photo : CBS

TVLINE | Would it please you to see any of your characters resurface on any of the remaining or upcoming NCIS shows? NASH & SILBER | The NCIS universe is an amazing place and it would be wonderful if any of our characters continued in it.

TVLINE | The #SaveNCISHawaii campaign valiantly marches on, with such passion from that heartbroken ohana. What’s your message to them? NASH & SILBER | It’s pretty simple… thank you. We loved our show, and the fact that so many other people loved it too is gratifying. They were the greatest fans we’d ever experienced on a show. And we share their passion and heartbreak. We are grateful that we got to be a worldwide ohana for as long as we did.

#ncis hawaii #interview #ncis la

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mythicalmagical-monkeyman · 2 months ago

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Waoh, hey look guys. Mateo angst :3

Anyways under the cut like always lol

Summary: Mateo tries to find his mom in the dream world It does not go as planned

Additional Tags:

Mateo misses his mom guys 😔, Garcia family feels, Light Angst. No Beta. Setting: made up dream realm. Inspired by a PJO edit

Mr. Oz had always said to avoid the dream realm that the Night Bureau had nicknamed “The Adult World”. Not that there inherently seemed to be anything too bad about it, it was just that as Mr. Oz described the world, it was where “creativity went to die!”

While that was probably a bit of an overstatement Mateo could see why Mr. Oz would say that about the realm. It was the blandest thing Mateo had ever seen.

The entire world was cast in monochrome colors with the only spice of color being when occasionally a bright red would sweep across the area like there was an unseen police car driving around with its top light on. Additionally there only seemed to be three types of buildings in the realm, suburban houses, low lying glass boxes that upon glancing inside seemed to be tiny one floor office buildings, and bars. That was where the variation ended; however, as every building between the three types seemed to be practically identical, every house was exactly the same, every small office building, and every bar. It made Mateo’s inner artist scream for some type, any type of color or originality.

Yet as much as Mateo wanted to leave he had come to the realm with a mission in mind, and curiosity was what made him a dream chaser right?

He ignored the small Cooper in the back of his mind that was yelling at him that, no it wasn’t curiosity that made him a dream chaser but in fact his creativity that did.

Let him have this.

Locator in hand, Mateo walked in the direction the little compass arrow was pointing him in which he hoped wouldn’t lead him into something he definitely didn’t want to see. He’d gotten lucky so far so hopefully that luck would continue.

Eventually Mateo found himself approaching a park, he didn’t think this realm would even have a park, but that’s where he found himself, the arrow of the Locator pointing under a large arch that marked the entrance.

Mateo glanced around taking in the dead grass and squinted up at the sign on the arch that proclaimed the park as, “DOF kPKFVb slhcL”. There’s no way that could’ve been right, what weird dream magic had backfired and caused the sign to come out as gibberish?

Mateo didn’t want to dwell on it though, he pushed aside the uncomfortable feeling rising in his chest and continued on into the park.

He’d just find her and get out of there as fast as he could.

The Locator led him on but oddly as he continued on the Locator arrow started to spaz out, vibrating, and spinning wildly like what it was trying to lead Mateo to was all around him or that she didn’t want to be found.

Mateo shook his head and smacked the Locator against his other hand but its arrow just continued to spin aimlessly.

Mateo sighed angrily, “Right, of course it wouldn’t be this easy, thanks for nothing,” he gave the Locator another wack before slipping it into his pocket. Guess he was just going to have to do this manually.

He began to wander around the park keeping his eyes open for anyone but the park seemed creepily empty to the point where after walking around for what he assumed was an hour and still not seeing anyone he was just about ready to give up.

That was until he heard a sigh. Mateo stopped short and glanced around and spotted through the trees a man sitting alone on a bench.

Curious, Mateo ducked under the tree branches between him and the man and approached.

Even before he had fully reached the other man Mateo realized who it was.

“Dad?” Mateo asked softly, rounding around the side of the bench and taking in his father.

His dad sat half bent over, his hands clasped and head bowed towards the ground. Instead of wearing his usual work uniform or even pajamas his dad sat there in a light blue t-shirt, jeans, and sandals, a green flannel jacket sitting in his lap.

Mateo recognized that jacket. It was his mom’s.

Mateo’s breath caught in his throat as his face scrunched up as a sudden wave of sadness washed over him.

“Mom?”

He didn’t even realize anything had slipped through his lips until his dad looked up.

“‘Teo?” His dad wondered, his face caught somewhere between concern and confusion.

Mateo didn’t meet his dad’s eyes, instead he felt all of his attention being locked on the jacket.

“Mateo? Que you doing here?” His dad tried again, his initial shock of seeing his son having passed.

It took a few seconds but Mateo managed to force himself to look his dad in the eyes.

“Dad, why do you have mom’s jacket?”

His dad glanced down to look at the jacket in his lap and seemed to jump a little at seeing that he had it. He then sadly ran a thumb over a piece of it.

“Ay, Maria,” he muttered.

Quietly, Mateo sat down next to his dad and watched him while his dad’s attention was transfixed by the jacket.

Mateo wasn’t sure when he finally found the words and spoke up, “Dad? Can I ask you a question?”

His dad slowly looked back up and Mateo couldn’t help but note the lost look in his eyes, “I-I don’t know why I have this,”

Once again his dad ran a thumb over the jacket and Mateo felt himself pausing before he asked, “Do you ever dream of mom?”

“Ah,” his dad breathed and as he trailed off, the lost look in his eyes persisted, like he was remembering something from a long time ago. Or at least trying to.

He then gripped the jacket in a fist and held out an arm, beconning Mateo in for a side hug.

Mateo obliged and leaned into his dad, tensing awkwardly a little. His dad rested his chin on top of Mateo’s head and gave him a squeeze.

“I miss her kiddo,” his dad muttered, “I truly do but … but it was her choice to leave, and I can’t change that. Not this time,”

Mateo inhaled shakily at that and the tension in his shoulders disappeared as he curled into his dad with a small sob.

Why’d life have to be so unfair?

#Mmmmm #the little things :3 #Also ftr the sign on the arch translates to “why did you leave” if you use a Caesar Cypher #Hehehe #lego dreamzzz #dreamzzz #lego dreamzzz mateo #mateo dreamzzz #dreamzzz mateo #mateo garcia #lego dreamzzz fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction

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ask-elland-n-will · 3 months ago

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All of a sudden, a flurry of butterflies trail into the transfiguration courtyard where you are sitting. We were attempting to do some studying, but the few start to turn into many and suddenly they cover every stone archway and almost even block the sky....studying suddenly gets much harder.

Thousands of them turn in chaotic circles, and one lands on your nose! I catch your eye, laughing “Will, you really can make friends with just about anything, can’t you?”

The statement is an attempt to distract you from wondering WHY there might be so many butterflies.. but it’s also true.

I smile quickly before going back to a transfiguration textbook I have been clutching in my hands quite tightly for the last hour.

“Theo, could you tell them to tone it down? I think I’ve just figured out where it is we had an issue with this task,” Will says without looking up from his lap, where a couple of library tomes are haphazardly balancing on top of each other, barely supported by a spell.

Leading by example, just as the prefect has always told the first-year students under his wing, he proposed that the ginger flock takes their study project outside today. No wind to bother them in the Transfiguration Courtyard; no rain to trot over their parchments as the castle’s doors are a blink away; no cows to chew on Will’s no quiet prerequisites set by the library. One cannot do their Transfiguration homework in silence, even in an attempt to master non-verbal magic.

Trying to ignore the flapping noise and eager to share his findings with Theodora, William points at something in an old textbook. Each word of an explanation that comes out of his mouth gets, however, less and less audible as the disturbance around them turns progressively for the worst. The pages of the other books start flipping from the sudden wind, and by the time a jittery shadow swarms William’s vision, the prefect’s eyes shot upward, ready to scold anyone and anything ruining his moment of triumph over a particularly tricky task.

“Stop it right this ins— WAAAA?!”

It is not that he was unprepared for an attack. On the contrary, there aren’t that many things that can scare William, not with the nerves of steel that he possesses (pickles don’t count, he got over that with the power of Knowledge months ago.) But in his mental preparations and the power-move called “I am a prefect and I am always in the right” he did not account for a much more formidable foe: an insect that appears out of nowhere and lands on his nose.

William freezes for a moment, until the butterfly spreads its beautiful wings, revealing its nature, and Theodora’s friendly voice confirms that it is safe. Will laughs quietly, hopefully with ease as he only just came to terms with an insect tickling his face. It’s just a butterfly, Abbott, calm down. Look how happy Theo is! Does she like butterflies so much? Hm, this needs to be added to her file later.

The Slytherin smiles back at his friend, sharing her mirth, and looks around. Whatever initial spooks he got make space for an awed “wow” as Will takes in the beauty of a myriad weightless gems, shimmering with all the colours of the rainbow faster than either of the students can blink, trapping the gingers in a fluttering kaleidoscope.

It does not last long, even with such a formidable strength of the spell-casting. Whoever cast it could not keep all the creatures in an open space for too long. Will looks at Theodora again, still grinning, the book in his lap — forgotten. The butterfly opens its wings again, undoubtedly looking like a magical mask on Will’s face before it takes off after its flutter.

“While I am rather good at making new friends, my dear Theodora, I would give up all of them just to have a few who really matter.”

#william #Theodora #Those last words also made Will think of Allegra #They haven't hang out much as of late #Perhaps William can think of something

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asktheimmune · 5 months ago

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Chapter One: Deathless In Equestria.

Creator's Notes: Most posts won't have a neat art piece for them, for now. My modeling skills are still inadequite, and I literally can't find a Scootaloo model for Blender or SFM that isn't Illegal, or any damn clothes for Twilight or Starlight! Had to draw them on by hand!

TS: Twilight Sparkle | SG: Starlight Glimmer | FS: Flame Storm | SC: Scootaloo

Scene open, our Survivors are set around a campfire. Scootaloo is wrapped in a brown and red cloak, Flame Storm is sharpening a fire axe, Twilight and Starlight are musing over a scroll. Flame Storm’s attention is grabbed by the Camera.

FS: Twilight, the Camera’s back.

Twilight’s head shoots up and stares into the frame.

TS: Oh! That took a few hours this time. Uhm, hello! My name is Twilight Sparkle, and we are… currently trying our best to survive. A few weeks ago me and my… compatriot Starlight Glimmer cast a Sight Seeing Spell onto a camera, which is what’s watching us. We thought it got blown up, honestly.

SG: It Did explode, Twilight. It doesn’t exist anymore. We’re just talking to the Moon-Damned air to vent our anxieties.

FS: And yet you, and the rest of us, also felt its existence. Shut up and let Twilight finish, Glimmer.

Starlight glares at Flame Storm before Twilight continues.

TS: Sorry… Uhm, I guess we really are just venting, but I guess anything helps to keep our heads on straight. To recap, about 9 weeks ago some kind of Infection Has spread across Equestria rapidly, seemingly by a Pony’s latent magic pool. From what I’ve seen, Unicorn’s can’t teleport, nor can Alicorns, due to magic becoming incredibly unstable. Every couple of minutes some kind of Pulse goes through the “Veins” of the world, it keeps interrupting any attempts at teleportation.

FS: Or any other spell, like Healing.

Flame Storm raises his left arm, revealing a large gash that is bleeding profusely. He doesn’t seem bothered by it, instead lowering it onto a pillow made of bandages.

FS: Hurts like hell, as it turns out.

TS: Sorry…

Twilight rubs her arm, looking away.

TS: An-anyways, me and this group, I believe, are some of the only Immune in the whole of Equestria. Other Alicorns are, hopefully, also immune, but these three seem to be special.

SG: Thanks for the vote of confidence, Sparkle.

Scootaloo simply smiles and leans against Twilight.

FS: Whatever this thing is, it’s highly infectious. Turns normal ponies into freaks, rotting their bodies from the inside out in the blink of an eye. And that’s before it mutates you.

TS: From what I’ve seen so far, these Infected seem to ignore several laws of Magic and Physics, like the Square Cube Law, or Starswirl’s Law Of Magic Conservation.

SG: Magic cannot be created nor destroyed, that’s the quote, right?

Twilight nods. She goes to continue but is interrupted by distant sounds of groaning and moaning. Flame Storm glares sharply to the right and gets up, bringing the bandage with him. He leaves the frame, armed with his axe. Scootaloo covers her ears in preparation.

SG: It’s… a little concerning how nonchalant he is about killing those ponies…

TS: Whatever they are, they aren’t ponies anymore, Starlight. They’re… it’s a mercy. The closest thing we can Give them, at least.

Starlight falls silent and stares into the fire.

The sound of growling ceases, replaced by the sound of flesh being torn and cut. A few seconds later, the sound of a growing fire is faintly heard. Flame Storm returns to frame.

FS: If we’re going to leave, now’s the best time. A group like that reads that an even bigger group is coming, possibly a hoard. And I’m not doing much with this axe.

Twilight nods and stands up, bringing Scootaloo up with her. The Camera has begun destabilizing. Twilight gives it one last fleeting look.

TS: I... Hope it returns this time.

END SCENE.

Our Survivors.

#mlp infection #mlp creepypasta #mlp ask blog #MLP Infection AU #twilight sparkle #starlight glimmer #mlp oc #Scootaloo #tw: violence #tw: blood

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samueldays · 6 months ago

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I've been really fascinated by what you have to say about magic as animism, as pacts with supernatural beings, magic as intercession, and many other things you've had to say on the topic

You gave me words for this thing I've been longing to put into my crearive work (mostly just rpg campaigns), this vibe I was in love with, but struggled to actually pin down

That being said, for all my love for it, as someone who grew up in a firmly post-DnD cultural landscape, it's been real hard to actually get into this way of thinking and make something of my own with it

May I ask you to help me work through an example I am grappling with right now, so that I can hopefully bounce off that example and keep thinking on my own?

There's RPG I wanna run called "Band of Blades". One of the facts about the setting is that all magic there in some form or another comes from gods. One of the two biggest forms of it is binding yourself to a god, which comes with costs all of its own. But, e.g., sweating yourself to a goddess of mercy can grant you some healing powers. Other big one is Chosen, which is basically when a willing human gives themselves up and essentially suffers an ego death to become an avatar of the respective god on earth. Most magical artifacts in the setting is items crafted by Chosen. Animal eating dead bodies of Chosen can produce magical beasts, or their remains can be made into reliquaries that can ward off malignant magic, etc.

At a glance, that seems to me like a setting that can be readily run as this sort of, as you put it in one of your posts, "only intercession is magic" manner. In a way, it already is - you have to make a pact with a deity to have magic, after all. For normal mortals sworn to gods then, it's fairly straightforward from here - their magical powes are limited by when the god views interceding on their behalf as worth it; a ritual to achieve a powerful effect basically amounts to asking the deity really really nicely instead of normally, and hoping they respond, etc.

But what about the Chosen? Specifically the question I had in mind is - if there is some kind of dramatic magical effect they can't achieve by just waving their hand, how would they go about empowering it? A mortal bound to a god could hold a ritual asking for intercession harder, as mentioned above. But since the Chosen is already an avatar of a god, they can't exactly ask harder because that would be basically asking yourself. But having supernatural acts only fall in two buckets of "can do on the spot" and "can't do at all" seems rather boring, too.

So what kind of "extra effort" options could make sense here? What would be the non-DnD way to think about this problem?

I'm going to reiterate that TTRPG format constraints were good reason for them to locally strip out the animacy, this is going to be a tricky place to put it back. Good luck!

Your second problem is the character who suffered ego death and is now a vehicle for an NPC. This is a cool storytelling device and also very tricky to run in a TTRPG!

So this is a hard problem. Also I am unfamiliar with Band of Blades.

Still, the first idea that comes to my mind is that dramatic magical effects taking more effort also take more time. The Chosen can't just wave their hands, they need to keep waving and ensure both that the body doesn't tire and that the god can keep uninterrupted attention on this specific avatar. (How many Chosen does a god in this setting usually have? How much multitasking power do the gods have? Are IC scheduling conflicts going to be an issue?)

Closely related is continuously channeled effects. The Chosen perhaps can't simply cast "Cure Frostbite" or "Craft Sword" as a one-off, but can sustain a power which generates immense heat for as long as the Chosen concentrates, warding off frostbite and enabling smithing without coal.

Or you could go with stress on the avatar.

Mutants & Masterminds has an action option literally called "Extra Effort" that you could take inspiration from. It raises one of your stats or alters one of your powers to do something that isn't on the short list of 'main' character superpowers, but the effort incurs a stack of fatigue. The first stack of fatigue is mostly free, only reducing your movement speed until you rest. The second stack of fatigue makes you exhausted, reducing movement speed and penalizing all rolls. The third stack of fatigue makes you pass out unconscious once you're done with the heroic effort.

Extra Effort is designed as a regenerating resource that the players can use frequently, and I've observed that they still hold back, because even though it costs no money and the uses recover every day, there's always the "what if I want it later?" factor on anything with limited uses. :P

Depending on setting details, the avatar character might want or need to do certain alterations to the landscape, physical or social, to make it more favorable for their god before trying to pull miracles. Draw friendly sigils, smash enemy sigils, gather diplomatic support, pick an appropriate spot on high ground or near a river or atop a spire or whatever. An extreme form of this is miracles that can only be done in a church or on consecrated ground. A lesser form might be that the healing powers of the goddess of mercy restore a number of hit points equal to 1d6 + number of people singing the praises of the goddess of mercy there at the time, up to some limit of diminishing returns.

On the one hand, this might get a little silly if the players have economistbrain about the stat bonus and decide to hire a band at all times to buff their miracles.

On the other hand, if the characters are committed enough to hire a troupe to follow them around and constantly sing praises of their gods, maybe that's exactly the kind of devotion you want to encourage. Emphasise that this is not a floating abstract +3 magic, it represents people doing something in the world.

#all #magic #rpg #asks #mechanism design

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hhoneycloves · 7 months ago

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Please talk about your CCCC Solar Storms AU (I am daring you)

OUUUHH HOORAY!!! THIS IS WONDERFUL

Okay. So. I'm rather sure that at the VERY least if you live in the United States that you're aware of the recent strong northern lights that, at their greatest thus far, have reached down as far as Alabama. This snapped me back into the realization that OH. OH MY GOD. SOLAR MAXIMIUM IS COMING. Solar Maximum is the peak of the sun's activity in its 11 year cycle, and will be arriving around this time next year, hence the increased sunspotting and solar wind, and by extension, solar storms.

I have been following space weather trends for about a year or so now leading up to this event and I got the kickass idea earlier this week of: "Hey. Hey. Hey. Chonny Jash fan. Hey. Guess who's already the Sun. Guess who [could be] the Earth. Guess who's the Moon." [though that one took me a second to. Realize. like the dumbass I am.]

If the Sun is bombarding the Earth with solar radiation? That's Mind and Soul fighting. This is my big opportunity to write a Mind vs Soul AU AND write all of the atmospheric phenomena and space weather I've been keeping my eyes on AS PLOT POINTS.

look. We've got TWO SOLAR ECLIPSES. We've got the AURORAS. The solar winds, the RADIATION. We have SUNSPOTS. In the local atmospheric phenomena department we have LOADS OF SUNDOGS, a couple instances of GORGEOUS sun halos [i got some of the higher sun arcs on camera last December too, can't wait to play with that], one instance of a MOON HALO— it would be so crazy. It would be so wild.

Currently, plotwise, I have RoE set as the solar eclipse in October, which from my global positioning was not total. After this point, Corona [Mind] takes up a personal vendetta against Aurora {Soul} for Not Doing Enough ["Enough" being synonymous with "killing this mfer"] to punish Selene (Heart) (despite the fact that he already received the punishment of being cast in shadow [eclipses are always on new moons])

I'm working out what it means to be cast in shadow. To obscure another with your shadow. That plays a HUGE role in this whole thing. Eclipses and the lunar cycle. Something with not being allowed to shine. Something with having the beauty of your light snuffed out. Something with being silenced or ignored or usurped or.. something. It's important. It's v important. Expect me to hopefully work it out at some point. I may have to ignore Some conventions of the lunar cycle to make this work but We Cross That Bridge When We Come To It

But anyways !! Corona says ["Aurora you ain't doing Shit, step down or I'll make you."] Aurora basically responds w/ {"You can't do shit. ATMOSPHERE !!"} and Corona says ["FUCKING WATCH ME!! SOLAR WINDS !!"] and then they fight and whenever they fight Corona blasts Aurora w/ solar radiation and Aurora creates shields made of literal auroras to hold off against him and it would make for some Kickass Art

and then there's Selene. Without an atmosphere of his own, tethered to Aurora for safety, he ofc is caught in the crossfire. BUT. because he's the MOON. i thought it would be silly to say that it's up to him to turn the tides of this storyline :3

But. I will say no more. There are things I must obscure for the sake of "interesting reveal later" and "yall better ask me questions about it"

I will drop their designs HOPEFULLY before next week :3

#honeycloves answers #4C Solar Storms AU

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kmenkea · 1 year ago

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Bloodlust - Part 1

A/N: This is the first chapter of my Astarion Fanfic. It will mostly follow actual in game conversation, but I will expand on them greatly. The main reason I'm writing it is because I felt like there was a gap in all these stories: none of them had an explicitly evil or morally grey Tav. I like my anti-heros and I want to share this love to everyone.

Leeith is the character I'm playing (first run, still at act 2). I made up a whole backstory for her, so excuse me while I also try to develop her.

I have a plan of where things will go and I might keep writing even after the events of the game.

Other than that, feedback is very much appreciated. I tried to stay true to the companions personality, but it is hard to write characters which aren't my own. Hopefully it won't ruin your experience.

I will also try to add a quick doodle to each chapter.

The smut will come in like 2 chapters, but I did leave some breadcrumbs around.

There's lots of Gale hate because he insulted me and I never forgave him.

Word count: 4.6k

Summary: Leeith is quick to mistrust. Astarion seemed extremely suspicious that night. Fortunately, he was just thinking about their companions blood. The pair decides to take some time to themselves, away from the party.

Read on AO3

Leeith’s eyes were transfixed in the fire, chin resting on her knees to relax. The moon was high up in the sky, casting its light on the camp. They had set it up in a clearing, where a large rock stood in the middle, overseeing all the tents that had been put up around it. The place was quiet and green, covered on most sides by the mountains, except that for a little lake, which sang its song: calm waves caressing the shore. Some bedrolls were laying around the fire, for whoever preferred to sleep near the pit, rather than alone.

The drow was one of them: being in the centre of camp meant that it was going to be a lot harder for any threat to sneak up during the night and slit her throat without anyone noticing. Plus, she didn’t know how to put up a tent. It just looked horrible, barely able to ward off the wind and rain, giving free reign to the cold to bother her all night long. The underdark was much better, full of caves and alcoves to hide, with little rain to worry about. The only thing she would miss if she returned back home was the gentle light of the moon and all the stars.

The drow extended her hand out, testing the flexibility of her wrist: she had slipped in a puddle of mud and down a small cliff the day prior. In the fall the clothes had got torn apart, too damaged to repair even with magic, so Shadowheart had to part with one of her suits. It wasn’t too bad, and the drow was actually happy with the change: the dark cloth suited her better, bringing out the colour from her pale grey skin. Her hair was a black, grey and red mess, as if she was hit by one of her own eldritch blasts, but that was the norm for her. It was much easier to just take a dagger and shorten it whenever it was needed, than having to deal with braids and coils, just for it to look like a bird nest right after any fight.

The stinging pain returned when she flicked her wrist too fast: the bone wasn't broken, but the flesh still swelled up. That was her casting hand and the recoil from her blasts wasn't helping the recovery. Alas, she couldn't take the time to rest. Everyone relied on her planning and she certainly didn't trust anyone enough to go out without her present to keep track of everything.

Many of her companions were reliable fighters, above all Lae’zel, strong and able to perform all tasks with extraordinary efficiency. She respected her, even if she was hard to deal with at times: her arrogance came from mastery of her abilities, so it was righteous. Shadowheart was quiet, but didn’t seem the type to backstab anyone. The cleric had two motives: she wanted her mission to be over and the tadpole out of her brain, the best way to get both was to travel together. Then there was Wyll and Gale: the first seemed too much like an honourable hero with a heart of gold. The drow didn’t trust him one bit. Her methods were ruthless and often involved cruelty, so she would rather keep him occupied with other errands, than take the chance of him making a scene during a crucial moment. Gale, well, he was just an asshole and not the funny kind. His ego was inflated like that of a beholder, always spewing some bullshit about how great he was compared to everyone else. She didn’t feel like that at first, but his comment on her being just a lowly warlock, rather than a learned and mighty wizard like him, had hit just the wrong nerve. He was relegated to cannon fodder for now.

Which left her with one last person, reliable for sure, but something always felt off. More off than him being a blood-sucker spawn. Too nice, too perfect, too flirty. Just enough mistakes to make her believe that maybe that was his true self. Enough said about his past for her to know what she was dealing with and what his motives were: control the tadpole, kill Cazador, gain freedom. Commendable. And useful. Just as a spawn, Astarion already had an edge, a natural talent that only required a few drops of blood to kick in; a full vampire would have proved a most formidable ally. But only if it was governable.

As she laid there, analysing and planning, Astarion's eyes were darting around, pensively. He was trying to hide his face with the large book in his hands, staring at the words, before gazing back up again; in all this time the page had been turned maybe once or twice, so either he was reading a very difficult passage or, more likely, was just trying to conceal some plot that was forming in his head. A good few times Leeith caught him staring at her, but their eyes never met. She wanted to lull him in a sense of false security, so that the drow could learn what his intentions were and why he was checking everyone out.

Her patience though was wearing thin and Astarion seemed pretty content to stand there still. The elf’s sanguine gaze fell on her again, but this time, it was met. She could almost see her reflection in it: they shared the same eye colour, though for her kind it wasn't unheard of to have red irises. The vampire didn’t flinch, appearing nonchalant even after having been discovered with his hands right in the pie.

Leeith stood up, dusting some ash away from her bottom and walked over to him with a smirk.

"Astarion!" she started. "How are you doing this fine night? Is that book any fun? You seem extremely absorbed by it." Her arms followed her words theatrically, to end up crossing in front of her chest. Astarion closed the book, holding it below the armpit.

"There you are. Quite a fine and serene night, made all the better by your presence." He put the book on a nearby table.

"You're too gracious. I didn't know surface elves were still taught courtesy… or discretely ploying." He seemed unfazed, still observing her from under his brow. Leeith walked past him, to sit in one of the many pillows which adorned his tent, giving it a pretty cosy atmosphere. The bit of blood splatter around, she did not mind. The elf soon followed, remaining at arms distance.

"I was just thinking about you." He sighed and shook his head with grace, the curls falling barely out of place. "And about that delicious moment we shared the other night." Leeith didn't even need the gestures towards her neck to understand what he was talking about. This had yet to explain why he was studying everyone, but she was starting to get a hitch of the reason.

"The moment when you bit me?" She decided to still play along.

"The very same." He nodded with a smile that looked genuine. For just a moment, his gaze fell down at the ground, absorbed in thought. His expression changed and though it still held a smile, it was also a lot more serious. For a moment more, no words were uttered, so that the only thing they heard was the lake and the crackling fire. His hands fiddled together for a split second, in search of the right words

"I've had this… condition for two hundred years. But, truth be told? You were my first." Those last few words were quiet, almost a whisper, but a smirk still lingered on his lips. The drow raised an eyebrow, harbouring disbelief and a slight weird sense of pride, if what he said was true. She didn’t get to rebut with anything, that his face returned jolly and his eyes skimmed over everyone once again, studying them and thinking gods-know-what in that wretched mind.

"In all these years I've only fed on beasts. Drinking the blood of thinking creatures is a different thing entirely." The vampire leaned closer, barely able to contain his hunger. "You were delectable." He purred, gently tracing Leeith’s neck, where two dark punctures were still more than visible. Leeith flinched at the unexpected touch, suddenly aware of how close they were laying. Astarion moved back, amused and excited, happy almost. "And now, I can't help but wonder how the others taste!" He laughed, gesturing towards the camp. Leeith holstered the imaginary dagger she was holding, grateful she didn't have to deal with a traitor. The smile returned to her lips, as she dropped her defences.

"Are you looking at other necks? I'm hurt!" Every word was filled with fake indignation. "I really thought we had something special, instead here you are, traitor, after I took your bit-rginity… that sounded better in my head." Astarion chuckled, if at her or at her pun she couldn't tell.

“Don’t worry, there’s enough of me to go around. I’m a man of tremendous appetites!” He placed a finger over his lip in thought. “Not that I think they’d volunteer, of course, but it doesn’t make me any less curious” He rested his weight on his elbow stretching his legs out. She did the same, propping her head up with one hand. Most men and women here on the surface looked so plain, with their brown hair and brown eyes. Even those with some special characteristics, like the devils, had little that interested her. But the vampire was different, skin and hair so fair they glimmered in the light and eyes red like her own, that spoke of subtle blood and violence. It was the charm of bloodlust that made him so attractive in her eyes, of stopping at nothing to survive and thrive, but revelling in the chaos caused, not be ashamed of the cruelty. More than once Leeith needed to defend the vampire from their travelling companions, especially the morning after being bitten. Truth be told, Astarion seemed more than ready to suck her dry that night. It made sense now: after two hundred years of wandering in the desert, thirsty and with rocks and knives thrown at him, the pale elf had found a source of clear water.

"Take Gale for example," the voice shook her awake from the vision of them laughing from high atop a mountain of corpses. "He strikes me as someone whose blood is rich, refined, like a well aged brandy.” Astarion twirled an imaginary glass. “But the Gith? What in the hell would she taste like?” The elf looked up, catching the drow’s eyes.

“Surely something exotic, like an Amnan liqueur.” Discussing the taste of blood wasn’t in tonight’s plan, but they were both having fun.

“Ohh! That sounds very appealing. I’m almost convinced.” She didn’t know if the other’s could listen and, frankly, she didn’t care. For the first time since leaving the underdark, the drow had met someone that did understand her. Being labelled as a mindless monster, just because he had been cursed to be a spawn, isolated him. Leeith too was always labelled as a low-life murderer because of her lineage, but she enjoyed the fear she’d strike in those below her.

“Could I convince you to kill someone less useful?” She raised an eyebrow and chuckled.

“No one is getting killed, I swear. We’re just- two friends talking.” He waved his hands between them. “So - in the spirit of theoretical questions - if you had to take a bite from one of them, who would it be?” He got closer, raising his eyebrow. For once he sounded actually happy, not just cheeky and overconfident. Leeith pondered, staring up at the stars. She glanced at him, noticing how his hair captured the colour of the moon and the light of the fire.

“You, of course.” His eyes opened up and he couldn’t hide a grin.

“Oh! I’m flattered. Who knew you had such taste.” His ego kicked in again.

“That… and the fact my blood doesn’t come free. It’s only fair I get a taste of you, after I shared my own.” Leeith reached up for his neck and, like he had done previously, caressed his scars. The feeling of cold skin was strange, even if she had lingered only an instant.

“Of course. It was a gift. One I do intend to repay.” His voice was much lower now, returning to his flirtatious attitude.

“All this talk made me realise I would love to get treated to a bottle of fine wine.” Leeith sighed. “You surface dwellers really do have much sweeter wines than the sour water we get downstairs.” Her gaze returned to Astarion, but wasn’t met. He was sitting back up again.

“Unfortunately, it will have to wait. All this talk is getting me hungry. I’d better find something I can actually sink my teeth into.” The vampire looked ready to be back on his feet.

A thought crossed her mind. Should she act upon it? It seemed like the perfect time and, truth be told, she was starting to get a soft spot for the elf. Laying there on those pillows, she moved her hair away from the neck, freeing her scars.

“And where would you go? Am I not delectable anymore?” She grinned, raising her arms above her head. “Unless of course you have acquired a taste for goblin.”

“Oh- well.” He fumbled, surprised by the offer. “Of course. I didn’t expect you enjoyed it enough to offer yourself again.” His cocky tone would have almost sounded perfect, if it wasn’t for the fact he didn’t move. He was stuck sitting there, waiting for something; a question still lingered on his tongue. Yet still, he couldn't help lick his teeth and lips.

“Don’t flatter yourself too much.” Leeith was tense, but still tried to keep a calm demeanour. “As you said in the past, I need you strong. If a bit of my blood is enough, then you can have it. I trust you won’t go overboard this time.” Astarion looked around camp. A few too many glances were being thrown in their direction, even the dog seemed to stop sniffing around just to focus on them. Leeith noticed too.

“Should we wait ‘till after dark?” His tone was hushed, but it didn’t mask his excitement.

“If it’s more comfortable for you not to have eyes on you, sure. In my opinion, it’s their fault for not looking away.” She giggled and stood up, stretching her back. “Well, I’ll go eat something more myself. Have a fun time with your book.”

Leeith returned to the fire, calling Scratch to her.

Not much time passed before everyone said their good nights to one another. Leeith spent the time studying a map of the region, thinking of ways to best ration their food during the following days of travel. The light kept getting dimmer in the fire, so she'd just chuck another log in. Scratch was sleeping beside her, shaking his paws at times. She glanced at Astarion's tent: the elf had the flap pulled down, but she could sense movement inside. They were the only two souls awake in the camp. He didn't need much sleep; she didn't feel the need to either, but her body was still weary and hurt in places. She wanted the day to be over and finally rest. The map was folded and put back in the backpack, then she walked to Astarion. The drow knocked on the floor and whispered his name. It didn't take long for him to appear.

"Yes, darling?" He was shirtless. Leeith took her time to respond, not really knowing how to ask. "Did the cat get your tongue?" Something metallic caught a ray of light. A moment later it was gone from his hands.

"I- well, are you still hungry? I am pretty tired, I kind of want to be done with today." She motioned at her bandaged wrist.

"Mh, I didn't think you were this impatient." Astarion made his voice deep, glancing at her with a seductive grin. "Well if you can't wait I'll find a boar or rabbit to snack on. Don't need to miss your beauty sleep for me." He disappeared back into the tent, but Leeith followed him.

"I can wait, just need an estimate." Sprawled on the floor there were a few bottles of blood, some empty, some full. At least the drow didn't have to ration the food for him, since he could provide for himself. More weirdly though, she also saw a pair of scissors, some thread and a small metal box full of pins. His white shirt was laying on the ground, the collar ripped off.

"I know you aren't a vampire, but you could have still asked before entering." He barked, annoyed at this invasion. The elf picked up the shirt and began to pin and sew the collar back on.

"Well, it's not like you're doing anything weird here. I didn't know you liked sewing… you could have fixed up my clothes instead of forcing me to borrow Shadowheart's!"

"I'm afraid your clothing was beyond repair even before it got torn apart. If anything that might have helped make it look better."

"Tks, I'll show you what true luxurious clothing is like; the underdark has the best spider silks imaginable, they feel like water around your body. You surface dwellers know nothing."

"And yet none of your ancestral fashion knowledge got to you, did it?" Replayed him. Leeith crossed her arms and furrowed her brow. If he was any other person, he would have already been made into a fine mist of gore, but his tone was too sarcastic for her to take it seriously.

"I'm done." he said at last, donning his shirt back on. "After you, darling." He pointed to the outside. The drow crawled away, soon followed by tonight's companion. Astarion stepped in front of her and, after making certain no one was around, directed her through a small hidden path. He was more than excited: she could see it in the way his hands trembled, his eyes flickered eagerly towards her, to make sure she was still following. Leeith caught him licking his lips once, the phantom sweetness of her blood still lingered on them.

Finally they got to a small river, with little flowers growing everywhere. It wasn't any random spot, the elf had put thought on where to lead her. Did he think a cute flower bed would have made her more trusting? Or was he just a romantic, wanting the moment to feel special for him? Not that it mattered. He didn't even need to set up a trap since the drow had offered herself.

"So?" She sat down, crossing her legs and looking up at the man. He soon followed, landing at her side, closer that he had ever been. She expected warmth to come from him, but again, nothing but cold dead flesh.

"So? Want to admire the stars before I go?" He teased, brushing her hair away from her neck. His hand fell on it, caressing it. His skin was soft and cared for, unlikely for a warrior. It smelled of fancy cologne and fabric soap.

"Maybe I will, Astarion. You don't seem that hungry after all." Leeith stretched her legs out, then lowered her head to the ground. Her eyes did search for the moon, but it was hidden among the clouds and leaves above her. Finally she shut them, bracing herself for the bite.

"What do you gain out of this? Why are you doing it?" He blurted out, not having moved an inch. His eyes were still bloodshot, but he was controlling himself. Leeith was puzzled.

"Nothing really. Why are you asking?" She lifted one of her eyebrows and rested her weight back in her elbows.

"You said it yourself, I'm borrowing your blood and you want something in return. What is that?"

"Well, I suppose it's true I never do anything for free, but I don't know. I wasn't actually expecting anything back. Again, you can treat me to a bottle of wine if you want, but otherwise, I'll be fine. It's just some blood, a good night's rest will take care of it."

"So, is this just… out of the goodness of your heart?" The way his voice got higher, it almost made him sound offended.

"Oh yes, Astarion. When the gods were handing out goodness, I skipped everything regarding not murdering people or threatening them, and grabbed bucketfuls of selfless vampire feeding acts. My soul aches for all the poor little starving vampires of this world." She placed a hand over her heart. His expression was undecipherable, a mix between confusion and indignation.

"Relax, Astarion." Leeith sighed and dropped the act, understanding his displeasure. "I don't know why I'm doing it, but it does help you, doesn't it? I see the way you fight and act after being able to eat something proper. It's a completely different you. A better you. I need that."

"Is this it?" He was still unsure. Was this it? Not even Leeith could tell. There wasn't a reason to give herself out like that. He was a perfectly good assassin even when hungry. The only ulterior motive was gaining his favour, so he’d still be on her side once killing and drinking Cazador. Not that she was going to tell him that. She scrolled her shoulders.

"Guess so." At that answer, he smirked again, returning to his old bastard self.

"Shall we make ourselves comfortable?" The vampire guided her down, supporting her head all the way. His body shifted over hers, putting his weight on his knees. For a moment, Leeith hoped his fingers would caress her stomach and move upwards to her ribs or down to her thighs. That didn't happen. Astarion just used his other hand to keep himself hovering above her. The drow closed her eyes and exposed her neck. A sharp pain followed. She whimpered and gripped his shoulders tight, clenching her jaw almost enough to break some teeth. Then the pain faded, substituted by a dull humming above her shoulder, in rhythm with her heartbeat. Astarion's tongue lapped at her skin.

"Easy now." He murmured, still with his lips on her. Was it just a thought he had? Leeith swore she could sense herself in his mind and him inside her. A similar feeling to the tadpole, but more fuzzy, deep into the recesses of their soul. The drow smiled, feeling his bliss as hers, the excitement of blood awakening something in them. For the first time, his body felt warm, alive, as he kept clinging to her sweet, sweet life. The elf was on edge. He didn't want this to finish, it felt better than any sex or drug or wine he's ever had. Just a moment more, just one more drop. Leeith’s mind was well and alive, shaking in shared joy. He needed this more than gold; he needed her to stay, to defend him from others. He couldn’t let the drow grow bored of him. As long as she trusted him, he wouldn’t have had to worry about monster hunters or Cazador’s goons; the warlock would have scared them off and, failing that, she was more than capable of crushing their bones. Her body was warm like the sun under him; He was going to cling to it for as long as he could.

The cold arrived too soon. The connection broke for an instant, as the drow below him got weaker. A wake up call.

He lifted his head up and almost felt like he needed to catch his breath, but his lungs were still dead. The vampire admired the wound on her neck: he had done a perfect job, with very little blood running off. They shared a glance as he went down on it again, just licking the few droplets on her shoulder.

Leeith tested the wound with one hand once he sat up. It hurt like hell, but it wasn't bleeding a lot. She undid the bandage on her wrist and used that to pat her neck dry. Astarion, by her side still, was brimming. His eyes were alive and shining like rubies, a faint smile was on his lips and he seemed not to have noticed that a drop of blood was about to fall down from his chin to his prized shirt. They sat in silence for a few minutes. The drow was the first to break it.

"So your hobby is sewing." She noted.

"I would call it less a hobby and more a useful skill. It's not like Cazador would give me his hand-me-downs." He spat, bile raising from inside of him.

"You're free now. You could buy anything you want."

"I quite like my clothes. And besides, where should I get anything? Maybe if we were in Baldur's gate I’d think about it, but here I could at best cover myself with twigs like those druids."

"Uhh… you wouldn't look too bad covered in fig leaves. I'm sure you'll find a way to make it work."

"Just because you want to see me nude, doesn't mean I'll concede myself to you so easily."

"Alright then, no more blood until I see you dressed with just one leaf." She wanted to sound serious, but the look on his face was worrying. Did he actually understand sarcasm?

"Hey, I'm still joking. No need to look at me like that."

"That reassures me. The thought of bedding a drow wasn't a pleasant one."

"Hey what?!" For once she was actually offended.

"Canings, ties, gags, whatever spiked torture device you have in your caves to get you off. Are you sure you are having sex down there, or just trying to eviscerate each other?"

"Well first and foremost, the "device" is called a spike cross and you aren't actually supposed to get off on that. Second, not my fault you surface elves are more sensitive than a babe. And third," she moved her lips close to his ear, whispering seductively. "I'll be gentle your first time, you'll still be able to sit the next day." She smirked, but couldn't hold in a chuckle.

"Is it true your men are slaves?" He asked all of a sudden.

"It depends. Most commoners, like me, have left the practice behind. Not that I wouldn't enjoy having a slave or two, but you know, either they consent or I buy one. Now, the matriarchs, they still cling to the old ways. In any case, most say it's not as bad as it was a few centuries ago. This doesn’t change the fact all men are unworthy and unclean in the Spider’s Queen eyes and her followers… like me, but I won’t chain you up unless you request me." She shrugged. Astarion was lost. His face was turned towards her, but his eyes were looking somewhere far. In that moment, Leeith remembered all that he had to go through, between the torture and the servitude.

"Hey," she placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him. "That won't happen anymore, alright. You're free now. Nothing can take that away and if they try, you aren't alone. I'll personally go into Cazador's lair and open all of his curtains, while you stand above his ashes. The sun will burn him, while you will be free." He shook his head.

"A naïve and puerile fantasy… but thank you. Shall we go? You said you were tired and don't think blood loss made you any stronger." He offered his hand and she took it. Even with that, standing up was not an easy task when her world kept spinning and going dark at the edges, but she managed.

"Lolth be graced, no one tells you the downsides of being a blood bag when you pick up this job." She joked, as they both walked back to camp.

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