#of me either killing all the goblins or none at all

[masatos-wig]

at a family gathering rn but all im thinkin abt it is how much i wanna just be home and spam bg3 for another 16hrs o(-(

[thisuserislilsilly]

Summary: A dreadnought looks back on his life, on the 2nd Legion and on his Primarch.

Pairing: None

Genre: Angst holy heck there is angst

TW: Dreadnought death :<

Goblin tag squad: @finchly-tintinnabulation @cardinalcanis @artemisareia

@echo-of-damnation @meervalv0 @jaghatai-khock

@druidwolf21

In silence

It has been too long since I have felt something akin to touch in my body, and I know this is just a byproduct of my systems shutting down, of everything else giving up but my spirit.

I had not seen the shot that took me down, it is my shame and my fault for I was focused on getting my brothers out of that kill zone before it was bombarded to the Warp and back. It went through my chassis and burst something within me; my systems faltered, my "hands" for a moment stopped triggering the weapons of vengeance I have wielded for longer than I had memory of them. My second death approaches gently, like a lovers touch before eternal slumber.

"Leave me...here...regroup with the others" I hear myself speaking to him, to that little brother that has been with me since I had been entombed in this sacred sarcophagus. I have watched over him like a big brother oversees the growth of his younger sibling, to have been close to him and being taken care of by him is an honor too big for me to even accept in its fullest ways

There are warning flaring up on my visor, the constant sounds of failure and emergency protocols activating, but none of that worries me now. I can only focus on the skies, the war torn, grayed and beautiful skies up above us, who have witnessed every last second of our war against the enemy. They do not remind me of my home, because it has never existed, I was never born into a planet with skies or earth or sounds of life and tranquility; the Void was always my home, the busy life inside a fleet was my mother and the cool steel of it's walls my father.

Father. I have fought with him side by side for millennia, both when I had a real body and too in this metal flesh. If my younger self would had known what had awaited him in the Crusade of our Emperor and what would had happened afterwards with him and the Legion he was a part of...would I had been so eager to be a Mute? Would that child had done his very best in all the tests and all the exercises to be worth the honor of elevating his soul and duty to the greatness of the Astartes? One part of me doubts it, doubts I would had been strong enough to know the hardships we would had endured, but as I recall the tender yet firm gaze of the Hollowgrace as it settled on my bruised but proud little form I know there was no other fate for me other than live and die for him.

As my vision falters, as my little brother groans in silent defeat over what little can be done for me I feel...a warmth, a calm I had not felt since so many sun's ago; my battered body cannot even move in the slightest to either side to see the presence close to us, but I have known my Liege too well to not recognize him.

"Your Hollowgrace" My voice is weak, it glitches and dims in volume

"Lakros" I know him, he is smiling to me still "Come to me"

"Sire" If only could I extend my hand to him, if I could show him the gratitude that has filled my heart for all of what he has done for me

In silence I came and in silence I shall go.

He sees me, he knows what I try to say, there are no more attempts to communicate it, there are no words in spoken language that are enough for what I feel for him. I take the vow of silence, the Vanrakfia-Shul, and I do not feel cold anymore, neither do I feel any regrets for the life I have lived and the wars I have fought, the foes I have slaughtered and the allies and brothers I have saved. My vision shuts itself completely while my heartbeat slows announcing the final bells on my life, yet I am proud of it, I happily receive it in the bliss only the Hollowgrace has been able to provide me.

[sebastianswallows]

Beautiful memories — Chapter 1

— PAIRING: Sebastian Sallow x F!MC (aged up)

— SYNOPSIS: Sebastian is sentenced to Azkaban for six months. When he is released, he finds MC is expecting a child, and is filled with anger and jealousy and confusion. He just doesn't know the child is his yet.

— WARNINGS: angst, just a lot of angst (eventually there will be fluff and smut, but in later chapters)

— WORDCOUNT: 2.7k

— A/N: This fic is for a prompt by @pugsnotdrugs92, and I was also asked to write a similar fic by at least one anon.

Sadly, since she gave me that prompt, Pugs has deleted her blog. I have just learned this tonight and I am... pretty damn upset, I'll say that (not at her of course 💗, but at what caused it).

I will just say that if you get hate from anyone, block them, block indiscriminately until you have peace. I hope that Pugs (and anyone who deleted their blog as part of this mess) will make an account on this hellsite again one day <3

Anyway! On with the fic. Hope you enjoy it, my dears 🌺

Nobody had any idea who turned Sebastian in. It came so unexpectedly that they almost didn’t believe it when he happened. After all, it had been two years since Solomon’s death, and everyone in Feldcroft believed he died in his sleep.

“I know it isn’t me,” she said tearfully to Ominis one day, “and I know it isn’t you.”

“And it wasn’t Anne either,” said Ominis with a shake of his head.

“Are you sure? She still isn’t speaking to Sebastian.”

“She protected him this whole time, why would she report him to the ministry now? She might not forgive Sebastian, but she wouldn’t do this to him…”

Their suspicions fell on Leander, or the goblins, or any number of rivals Sebastian had made, but none of their suspects were likely to even know the truth about what happened that day in the catacomb. It therefore stood to reason that someone had overheard them speaking about it at some point, but that did little to narrow it down — for all they knew, one of the portraits had heard them and reported it to the Headmaster.

Ultimately, it didn’t matter who told the Aurors about it. The trio rushed through their N.E.W.T.S. half-heartedly, with Sebastian unsurprisingly scoring lower than he ever had, and in their spare time they spoke of nothing but the upcoming trial.

They’d even arranged for a solicitor for Sebastian, and visited him via floo in London, but he only spoke to his client in private. And every time Sebastian walked out of the wizard’s office, he looked more discouraged than the last.

The trial took place during summer, right after their 7th year ended. Both she and Ominis attended it every day. Imelda came sometimes as well, and Poppy, and Lucan — even Garreth attended on two occasions. He’d never liked Sebastian much, but he seemed to put aside his feelings throughout all of this.

“They don’t mean to send him there, do they?” he whispered as they sat outside the courtroom one sweltering afternoon.

“Where else?” said Imelda. “They closed all the other wizarding prisons centuries ago.”

“But he’s supposed to have done it while he was still a student…”

“What d’you expect? That they’ll give him detention for murder?”

“No, but…”

“You don’t think he really did it, do you, Imelda?” asked Poppy, leaning over Garreth.

“He didn’t,” said Ominis without even glancing their way.

“That’s right,” she said from beside Ominis. “Sebastian’s done nothing wrong.”

The trial went badly almost from the start. The judge was a grey old wizard in a funny wig, and there was no jury to speak of. He seemed to treat the death of a former Auror, even one of such ill repute as Solomon, quite seriously. The Prosecution leaned into that every chance they got.

Anne was called to give testimony in the first week, and she confessed under oath what she had found when she reached the catacombs, which was enough to shock the court. Sebastian’s friends took courage from the fact that she had not actually seen what killed Solomon, but it was only a matter of the judge drawing a line between a quick succession of events.

Ominis was called to the stand as well, but lied shamelessly. Even the threat of Veritaserum from the Prosecution didn’t sway him. He knew none of them would dare submit a Gaunt to that — a rare occasion of his family name amounting to something. However, him being Sebastian’s oldest friend cast doubt upon his entire deposition…

And then, she was called to give testimony as well. Unlike Ominis, she was not sure she could afford to lie, but nothing could get her to betray Sebastian.

All that she could remember was that Solomon attacked the both of them, and both she and Sebastian felt quite threatened by him, and then somehow, between the flying curses and roving Inferi, Uncle Solomon fell dead. But that happened, after all, more than two years ago, Your Honour, and it was in a dark and gloomy cave — and oh, what were they doing there? Objection. Relevance?

Ominis and the others congratulated her on well she held her own, but deep down, she felt like she had let her best friend down — her statement didn’t put the blame on Sebastian, but neither did it exonerate him.

By the time the trial was approaching the end, their former classmates had stopped coming, and only she and Ominis were left.

“He looks so —”

“I know,” said Ominis, not wanting to hear her describe him. This was on the last day, and the judge would give the verdict.

Guilty. Six months in Azkaban.

The courtroom reverberated with murmurs from the crowd — some in approval, others in outrage.

It was a horrible sentence to hear, but it was not as bad as their worst fears — people were often given life imprisonment for the Unforgivables. Fortunately, in Sebastian’s case, there was not enough conclusive evidence either way. Still, if they were to appeal, it would take longer than six months to even have a new judge assigned to the case, so they were left with no choice but to accept it.

As the Aurors led Sebastian away, she and Ominis stood together and called out useless encouragements to their friend, telling him to have courage, to be strong, have faith that he would soon be free, but he went with the guards without looking back at them…

Most of their former classmates were shocked but seemed to think the six-month sentence would pass quickly. They knew Azkaban was pretty horrible and could remember a few things from their DADA class, but none of them was truly educated on the nature of Dementors. Ominis was. He’d been in their presence when he and his father went to visit an uncle of his who’d been sentenced for murdering a muggle. He claimed it was the worst experience he’d ever had in his life — worse than Crucio, in its own way. He still remembered how the despair lingered inside him for days.

And as time passed, she became aware of something lingering within herself as well…

By the fourth month, she had to use concealment charms around her waist when she went out in public. Ominis figured it out on his own — it was probably that echolocation spell he used to get around. He’d merely been suspicious at first, but by the fifth month…

“Can anyone else see?!”

“No, and they won’t if you just stop —”

“But this could ruin your reputation!”

“Don’t you think I know that?!”

“I can’t believe you! How c—”

“Ominis, shut up,” she hissed.

“But you —”

“It’s Sebastian’s!”

“… Oh. I suppose that makes it better, then.”

From then on, Ominis supported her and helped her in any way he could — which admittedly wasn’t much, as he was still getting used to living on his own after being freed from his family’s clutches. And either way, the first few months were gentle enough on her that she could cope well enough on her own. The only help she needed was preparing her small flat to host two people — and eventually three — which meant some creative furniture transfiguration to fit everything in too small a space.

Christmas arrived in the meanwhile, then the New Year. They had tried writing to him every month by then, but the authorities kept sending their letters back — none were allowed for fear of concealed enchantments, they said, and no visitations were allowed either for lower-class prisoners. It broke her heart to know him all alone throughout those rotten months and all through the holidays. Neither she nor Ominis found it in them to celebrate anything that year…

Sebastian was released in February. They wouldn’t be allowed on the island of Azkaban, but they could see him at the Ministry, where he would be transported before he was officially freed.

She and Ominis got there at sunrise, and waited for hours.

Sebastian’s assigned solicitor couldn’t be there, as he had another case, but he sent a house elf to sign the release form in his name. Anne hadn’t come either, but that was hardly a surprise…

The two of them sat alone in a busy hallway, watching witches and wizards pass through — some going in, some going out — until finally, late in the afternoon, the Auror at the front desk told them that inmate Sallow would be arriving within minutes.

“Here, here, they said this will be the exit,” she said, pulling on Ominis’ sleeve.

Two large wooden doors lay open out of which a long dark hallway extended like a neck, and on either side were doors being shut and open of ministry workers travelling through. There was constantly a small crowd of people darkening that space even further.

“I think that’s him,” she said, standing on the tips of her toes when she spotted a dark ruffled head of hair.

“Alright, stay calm,” said Ominis, taking her hand to settle her. Since he’d realised that she was pregnant, he was instinctively more protective.

“Oh, it is! It is him!” she said with tears in her happy voice.

Sebastian was led out of one of those side doors — dressed in a grey and black prisoner’s uniform, his hands and feet chained, terribly thin and tired and bent at the back, and looking as if he hadn’t slept for days…

“Sebastian!” she called out, waving to him with the hand that wasn’t in Ominis’ grasp. “Over here!”

He looked up slowly, as if doubting that he’d heard his name called. His eyes searched blearily through the crowd ahead, not really focusing anywhere, but then they fell on her. She grinned brightly when she caught his gaze.

“Y-you came?” he said, looking at the two of them like they were a dream come true.

“Of course,” she said.

“Surely you didn’t expect anything else,” grinned Ominis.

“I… I need to go somewhere, they’re taking me to… to…” He didn’t have time to explain before Aurors led him around the corner and to another room, for processing.

“We’ll be here,” she called out after him, “we’ll wait for you!”

“How does he look?” whispered Ominis. “He sounded quite weak.”

“He looks… the way he sounded,” she said, “but he’ll be alright… He has to be. We’ll make sure of it.”

Less than thirty minutes later, Sebastian stepped back outside. He was now dressed the way he was when they arrested him: a faded green sweater and black trousers with worn old leather shoes. The clothes hung on his lanky frame, his face was all angles and shadows, and he looked as if he hadn’t had a wash in the whole six months. He was, of course, without his wand as well — they’d broken that after his sentencing.

But there was a still little light still left in his eyes, and it shone when he saw his friends again. He called out her name and Ominis’, and walked toward them with feeble brisk steps.

“I can’t believe it,” he grinned weakly, his steps growing bolder the closer he got to his friends. “I never thought —”

But then he noticed their joined hands, and her swollen stomach, and it nearly stopped him in his tracks. He only caught the sight for a second before she let go of Ominis and rushed to embrace him.

“Seb,” she cried out as she jumped into his arms. She clung to his neck like a lifeline. “I’ve missed you so much…”

“I’ve… missed you too,” he said, his voice low and uncertain.

She buried her face in his neck while Sebastian’s eyes fell to Ominis — who embraced him too from the other side in an uncharacteristic display of affection, before he stood back timidly.

“How… erm, how are you?” he asked with a nervous smile, feeling more happy than he cared to admit, and relieved to have his friend back in one piece.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” said Sebastian. Gently, he dropped the girl from his arms and slowly pulled away.

“Of course,” she said, wiping her tears and stepping back, but keeping his hand clasped in hers. “You don’t have to. You don’t have to say anything. We just came to take you home. It’s alright now… You’re free, you’re finally back. We’ve missed you so much…”

“Home?” said Sebastian, looking between her and Ominis coolly. “Whose home is that?”

“Well… whichever one you want,” she said. “Yours or mine or…”

“I don’t think I’m ready to see Feldcroft again,” said Sebastian. “But I wouldn’t want to… impose on either of you.”

“What?” frowned Ominis. “Don’t be stup— I mean, don’t worry about that, Sebastian.”

“Oh, is there something to worry about?” he asked.

“Well —”

“We don’t need to discuss that —”

“— here.”

“— now.”

“… I see.”

“Don’t concern yourself with anything,” she smiled, stepping up to him again and embracing him loosely. “Let’s leave this horrible place first…”

They made their way out of the ministry building and through the cold London streets toward Diagon Alley, and his friends talked to him excitedly about the things that had happened: what their former classmates were doing, what they knew about Anne, even the latest Quidditch matches.

They probably felt less cheerful than they seemed, but their enthusiasm was overflowing as they prattled on about all the normal things people their age should care about, almost as if nothing bad had happened at all. They laughed, and smiled, and rubbed his back, and all the while there was in Sebastian’s gait much of the same imprisoned and defeated look as there had been when he was led out of the courtroom at his sentencing.

“We wrote to you while you were there,” she said as they approached the Leaky Cauldron.

“But the damned guards never delivered them,” said Ominis.

Sebastian listened in silence, and they tacitly agreed it was because of what he had been through. He would open up to both of them in time, they were certain…

They decided to have lunch at the Cauldron since neither of them had eaten anything since morning — and they didn’t even wish to think of the food in Azkaban. They ordered sausages and eggs and mashed potatoes and a great big serving of pickled pumpkin.

Sebastian ate the least out of the three of them — and what he didn’t finish, she devoured. Ominis hid his chuckle behind a cough, while Sebastian could barely look at her. If she noticed it, she didn’t say. She just kept smiling and laughing along with Ominis…

More than ever in Azkaban, he wished he could dig a hole for himself through which to disappear. The Leaky Cauldron was noisy and crowded, the smell of food made his stomach turn, and every scrape of a chair was like a scratch across his brain. Even sitting down was uncomfortable, his muscles too thin and his back too weak to hold him. He moved uncomfortably from one position to another, and let his friends prattle on to fill the emptiness between them.

After almost an hour, they decided to leave, and Sebastian nodded in agreement.

“I’m seeing someone at the ministry next Wednesday about a position,” said Ominis as they walked toward the fireplace. “But I can stop by afterwards if that’s alright.”

“Of course,” she said. “You’re always welcome, you know that.”

“Do you have enough chocolate at home? I can bring some more.”

“Shelves full of it,” she laughed. “But more is always a good idea. I suspect we’ll need it.”

“Well, I’ll bid you two goodbye for now, then,” said Ominis as he waved them off, blissfully oblivious to what was going through Sebastian’s mind.

“Goodbye,” she said with a tearful smile, letting go of Sebastian for a brief while to hug their friend once more.

“I’ll let you know before I arrive on Wednesday.”

“Not to worry, Ominis. We’ll be alright… Everything will be alright now.”

“I hope so…”

“And good luck with your interview!”

“Thank you… Although I’m not sure I want it.”

“Thank you, Ominis,” said Sebastian tiredly. “For… everything.”

“Don’t be silly,” he smiled. “I’m glad to have you back. We both are. Just focus on getting well again…”

Sebastian nodded, not feeling that any of their kind words were true. He disappeared in the green flames with her, wishing for once to not appear on the other end.

[themadlu]

Do Not Open That Door

Astarion is sure his leader's unflinching morals will lead him to another unwanted grave. He is also sure she is putting on an act because people like her do not exist, clearly. He decides to test his assumptions.

TW: None I think

WC: ~3000 words

Tagging: @spacebarbarianweird for the encouragement!

Astarion is livid. Well, maybe livid was an overstatement—he is annoyed. Annoyed and confused. Such feelings are still a vast improvement over the fear and shame he's been accustomed to, but they make him restless nonetheless. 

Especially because their cause is walking steadily next to him without a care in the world for his inner turmoil. 

Zélie, their oh so great leader, has managed to spoil what could have been a perfectly enjoyable afternoon on multiple fronts. First, she decides to talk to the goblins ambushing them instead of treating them like the savages they are.

(“We don’t know how many of them are in this village Astarion. What if there’s a little army and we’re outnumbered?”)

After confirmation that there were, in fact, quite a few goblins (and a couple orcs to boot), she managed to get free passage through the village by leveraging their wriggly alien parasite. He isn’t happy about it. Not at all. 

He has to begrudgingly admit hers was a wise call after witnessing just how large and hungry those orcs were. And of course they even agree to help a fellow true soul in need. Just what he needs to undermine what little influence he has on her.

(Her blood is in his body after all.)

In the last tendays she had made it her mission to remind him how despicable murder is, under most circumstances, aside from self-defence. This beautifully idiotic mindset of hers almost got her killed twice in front of his very eyes.

(She doesn’t know he has taken to finish off the enemies she leaves unconscious while she isn’t watching.)

When he had pointed out the suicidal flaw in her morals, she had given him her signature scolding look, crossed her arms, and started breathing in that funny way of hers. 

In, hold, out. 

(She says she is not trained as a monk, but he’ll be even more damned than he already is if that is true. The way she fights and holds herself—and those sickening ideals she has—tell a different story.) 

“Honestly, darling,” he hisses at her as they walk through the village, squinty eyes trained on their every move. “I thought we agreed that benevolence and honour,” he spits the words out like a curse, “get you nowhere but to an early grave.”

“Astarion,” she always says his name when she speaks to him—even in annoyance— and he hates his constant surprise at hearing it. His elven name had been replaced with other titles over time, more befitting of his status—boy, spawn, whore, slut, beautiful, toy, love…

Truly, it’s a small miracle he managed to hold on to his name. It’s one of the few things left that are truly his, yet hearing it spoken from that solemn woman's lips makes something in his chest preen. 

“I thought we agreed to disagree on that front. No, don’t give me that look. Killing someone is never justifiable. No matter what we tell ourselves, we are taking away something that wasn’t ours to begin with. Something irreplaceable. Even—” she held up her hand as he started to complain, “in self-defence, even then, I will make sure to exhaust all alternatives, and even then, it will be a failure on my part.”

You moron. 

“Too bad the rest of the world doesn’t think like you, darling,” he snapped. Hers was an act. There was no way in the hells anyone could survive to their…whatever age she was, he was never good with human lifespans, with that mindset. It was ridiculous, because if she actually was like that—if two–hundred years of shit didn’t teach him better—she should either be dead in a ditch or have ascended to godhood on her saintly behaviour alone. The only explanation he has for her standing close to him is that the mask she wears is as fake as his own. That, or she is a child of Ilmater. He bets on the former, given her complete ignorance of any deity on Toril.

“But you lied,” he counters, snapping his fingers. “You said we are here on Absolute business. Doesn’t that go against your precious code of honour?” he singsongs in her ear. 

“I didn’t lie. My tadpole reacted to theirs, and they drew their own conclusions. Technically, we are going to their camp on Absolute business too, if you count removing these,” she tapped her index to her temple. 

He smirks, victorious. “Circumstantial. One day, the tadpole won’t do the work for us and you’ll break your own code or doom us to death. For one, I’d rather not repeat the experience,” he says in a quiet voice, pointing at his chest. 

Their companions are still unaware of his condition—another occasion his holy leader conveniently withheld information. 

(“It’s your secret, it’s your decision.” Hypocrite.)

“Astarion, I know you take me for a fool, and I would normally pay more respect to a man—elf—my senior by centuries, but really. I can be practical and have a moral compass, and that means that when the choice is between lying and killing, I will pick lying any day, even if I don’t like it.” 

Enough. 

Her words incense him, annoyance suddenly turns into rage and something else—what’s that, envy?—he pivots on his left heel and closes the distance between them so fast she has no time to react. Zélie is left pinned to the wall, their bodies a breath away from touching, and he internally celebrates the surprised look on her face. 

He stares at her down his nose, ducking his head and planting a slender hand on the wall beside her head. 

Astarion has to make her stop before he tears her self-righteousness out of her throat. Before she realises how useless it all is—how useless and tainted he is—and either stakes him or banishes him. Because even her sickly, do-gooding self, fake or real it be, must have limits. If he pushes hard enough, they’ll crumble, and then he’ll be proven right. She is not what she says she is because creatures like that aren’t real.  

“Let’s make one thing clear, darling,” he growls, nostrils flaring, “you may be our great leader, but you should get off your high horse before someone shoots you off it. I don’t know what perfect little corner of the universe you grew up in, but you know nothing of this world and its dangers.” 

He flashes his fangs at her to drive his point across. The others are out of sight, looking for supplies in some ruin or cellar. Gods, he misses the city. 

Zélie is staring back at him, bristling, but lets him continue. She never interrupts any of them, not even him.

“I thought humans were all about developing and living fast, but you, my dear, are as ignorant as a babe. I am trying to make sure we keep our collective hides safe and do not get sidetracked by other pitiful creatures on our path.” 

He realises just how close he is to her when she straightens up again and their noses almost touch. 

Pale eyes go darker with a flash of anger. 

There. Come at me. Prove me right. 

“Spoken like a true man of the law, lord magistrate.” 

Why the hells is her tone so collected when she has a literal vampire at her throat?!

“You seem forgetful, so I’ll remind you that it was my ignorance that stopped Shadowheart from connecting her mace with your head. And it was my stupidity that convinced her you could join us, and that we should give you a chance at trust.” 

She makes no move to get closer, but he recoils as if scorched by fire. 

“And it is the same trust I placed in you yesterday when I let you bite me, even though it’s not how I envisioned a night of rest to go. I trusted you to stop, I trusted you to keep your word and not leave me a corpse.”

There it is. Reminding him of what he owes her. Of his debts. They say the quiet ones are the most depraved, and she is the strong and silent type. But he is nothing if not an expert in the art of subservience at this point, and if it gets her to keep giving him blood and protection—

“I trust you.” 

Then you’re doomed.

She says it as if it were a challenge. Her gaze is unwavering and he is left speechless yet again. Cazador would admire this quality of hers.

“I hope you can trust me in return.”

Impossible woman. 

“Well, I suppose you’re not wholly incompetent,” he manages to croak out. His nonchalant mask is harder to slip on this time. 

She huffs a breath of a laugh, a tiny thing, but it’s enough to transform her whole face. The weight she carries on her deceivingly flimsy shoulders seems to lift, leaving behind a young woman smiling softly at a…well, a monster. Talk about inexperience. 

Happiness suits you, little leader. 

The fact it’s his prattling that caused this marvel of a transformation stokes something in chest and in the pit of his stomach that he promptly pushes down. 

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Zélie says. She moves away and he is left staring at the crusty wall. Her body never touched his own during their exchange. 

Wait. That’s wrong. He was meant to make her see the reason in his ways, not the other way around. So why is he at her heels like a lost puppy the minute she walks away? 

(“You are nothing by yourself boy. You owe everything to me.”)

He is weak. So weak he has leashed himself to a human who can barely read common, fuck's sake. 

His temper rises again once he catches up with Zélie. He doesn’t need her condescension, nor her chiding (she doesn’t even know his full story yet, nor she ever will unless absolutely necessary, so pity isn’t there yet). He’ll show the wretched woman how wrong she is. 

Karlach and Lae’zel jog behind them as they reach a barn with a door locked shut. Zélie thinks nothing of it at first, but Astarion can smell what’s inside.

(His senses born anew from her blood.)

He smells the ogre and bugbear and their horrid affair before the rest of his companions hear the grunts and noises.

“Oh God, someone’s fighting!” exclaims Zélie.

Fighting, you say?

An idea strikes him. 

See what your misplaced goodness gets you when you try to help an ogre.

“I don’t know soldier, they don’t sound like fight noises to me,” says Karlach leaning towards the barn, but even she seems unsure. Astarion’s talents may be limited to a specific area, but in this case it works in his favour. He is very familiar with what those sounds mean. The half-ogres that fucked him into the bed so hard he bled were not so different.

(He still remembers how much it hurt, how he was left in a puddle of mixed releases, sweat, and what little blood he had).

“Well, even if they are fighting, it is clearly not our problem. I say we leave them to it and focus on what’s really important,” he says, using his annoyance as a hook. Zélie may be the most restrained person he’s come across, but he knows how to read people, and he knows she will do the opposite of whatever he says when it concerns morals. 

She falls for it. His smile is harder to suppress.

“Astarion! We’ve just talked about this!” 

Her voice raises a bit, but it’s almost eclipsed by another loud grunt from inside the barn. 

“So long as my blade can be sharpened on my enemies’ bones, I am ready.” Lae’zel is almost as ignorant as Zélie when it comes to their world, which is usually a hindrance, but now it’s the push their little leader needs to run to the rescue. 

Zélie tries to open the barn door (after cutting another withering look at the vampire lazily strolling at her back), finding it jammed.

The crescendo of grunts and bangs coming from inside is extremely loud now. 

Gods, they must be disgusting. 

“Hello?! Help is on the way, hang on!” the little human shouts as she frantically tries to get the door unstuck. 

“Oh hells, let me do it, darling, before we turn into tentacled freaks,” Astarion says in mock-annoyance. She eyes him suspiciously and he shoots her a winning smile. His nimble hands make quick work of the lock, and he pushes the door open. 

He needs just a peek to know his assumption about what was happening in the barn is correct, and turns to face his now horror-stricken companion. 

“Gods, they are disgusting,” he comments with his lips crooked in a satisfied smile. 

Zélie scrambles to compose herself and turns her back from the scene (the prudish) as she fails to find words to explain herself. “I—I am, I apologise, we thought—”

Oh, she’s in a state. Her cheeks flush redder than rubies (he can practically hear her delicious blood pooling there), whilst the rest of her is paler than after Astarion’s feeding. She opens and shuts her eyes as if trying to physically erase what she just witnessed.

The bugbear slides his now soft cock out of the ogre, and looks at them in rage.

“W–what the hells are you doing?!”

Oh, Astarion is thrilled. He doesn’t remember when last had such fun. He hears Lae’zel’s tsk’ and Karlach’s gags behind him, and he closely watches Zélie fumbling as he didn’t think was possible. 

“Apologies! I, you—you were making a lot of noise and I, we, thought you needed help,” she holds her hands in front of her in a peace offering. “I apologise for the intrusion! We’ll leave now—”

“Ruined! SMASH. I’ll smash you!” 

Oh. Astarion didn’t expect that. He just wanted to show Zélie how ungrateful the world is to idiots like her, not have her turn into orc food. 

Before he can think, he is tackling the woman to the ground, the orc’s club crashing a few spaces to his left. Karlach and Lae’zel’s throw themselves at the aggressor, and the fight starts in earnest. Astarion is more a stalker than a fighter, but he had his first fill of human blood only hours before, and his senses have never been that sharp, so he doesn’t miss the bugbear rushing towards their prone form. 

Daggers at hand, he braces to parry the onslaught (this may hurt) when his worldview shifts, his back in on the ground, and chilly afternoon air replaces the heat of his leader on his chest. 

What just happened?

He turns his head to see the bugbear crashing to the ground, Zélie crouched on one leg and tripping him with her other. “Go help the others! I’ve got this!” she shouts, as she wraps her limbs around the assailant in a tight bind. “Wait! It was an honest mistake—”

He doesn’t want to hear her voice now. Doesn’t want to think how the little moron literally threw him away from danger. Even worse, he will refute the idea he protected her from an angry orc till his last breath. He only got his body back recently. That’s it. He still is unsure of how to use it. 

And she's dinner.

He doesn’t want to dwell on what happened, so he nods and throws himself at the female orc while she is distracted by his companions. 

The fight doesn’t last too long after that, and something takes a hold of his insides when he looks at Zélie. She is silent, staring at the large corpse on the ground, bugbear knocked out at her feet. 

“Darling?” He moves towards her and the sadness in her eyes almost makes him apologise. Gods, what has he done? He didn’t think this was going to happen. And why does he care?! This was his intent, this and seeing the real her behind the strong, polite facade. 

“I just wanted to help.”

“I know, darling. I—”

See now, how impossible it is to keep your ideals in this world?

“You knew,” she says, and while he words his excuses (the only real one being he didn’t think they were going to be attacked) her shoulders drop and a defeated huff leaves her mouth. A far cry from her happy smile earlier. 

Astarion can’t wrap his head around how he caused both reactions in such a short span of time. But this look on her, this, he knows. He has seen far worse in the eyes and screams of those fools he lured back to his master, once they had his way with him and realised a bit too late they were as trapped as he was. 

He expects her to shout, to berate him, kick him, punch him, stab him, banish him—but none of that comes. Zélie studies him intently, and something in her demeanour lights up, an internal judgement made.

“I still trust you.” 

No. No no no, he’s not going to let her fool him into believing this—no!

Her face is suddenly level with Astarion’s knees, the now-awake bugbear readying a strike. 

Astarion doesn’t need to think—he falls forward and sinks his dagger into the wretch’s neck. Blood spurts out, but after tasting Zélie’s Astarion has no interest in it; mud compared to a clear sky.

“Soldier!” shouts Karlach, ever the helpful friend. Zélie pants as the dead attacker slides off of her, eye to eye with Astarion again. He can feel her light breath on his face. Karlach pulls her up; he is cleaning his dagger on the bugbear’s clothes when an outstretched hand enters his vision. Hers.

“Come on,” she says, tired but steady again. “Let’s get back to camp.”

Astarion flinches from the hand as if it were a trap (it is always a trap), but Zélie is new territory for him, that much he begrudgingly accepts. She is apparently above the rules of their miserable world because she chooses to trust him, a vampire, a lying one, again. 

He takes her hand, bracing for what may come his way, but she just helps him up. 

“Thank you, by the way. For saving my life before.”

It’s a trick. It’s a trick. Don’t fall for—

She wraps her hand around his so delicately he thinks he may break, and shakes it. His thoughts and words are silenced yet again. 

“Thank you.” 

Fuck. 

[bedtimegiraffe]

First off, your BoLaS content is second to none! AMAZING. 💚✨🔥 Do you have a breakdown of the differences in book 3 as they relate to the different endings you can choose in book 2? Or know where I could find that info? I scoured the masterlist but did not see it. (I could just be blind!) Thanks in advance!

Thank you so much, I'm glad you like it! It's fun for me to put together but I still very much appreciate hearing that other people like it too.

Good question! I have the scenes that stood out to me scattered throughout, but no master on the Book 2 ending you choose.

UNTIL NOW

Housekeeping notes: I’m presenting this in a way that assumes the reader is most familiar with the Merged Realms or Bridged Realms (portals) endings; from what I’ve seen, the Separated Realms ending was the least popular by quite a bit. These are the names I’ve chosen for conceptual symmetry. I’m including screenshots from my own playthroughs and from Neckrone Shen on youtube, my most valuable internet ally who almost certainly has no idea who I am. Rainer is mine, Neckrone and Satilla are Neckrone Shen’s.

Book 3 Changes Based on What You Did to the Realms

Book 3, Chapter 1:

If you Merged or Bridged the Realms, Kade, Cherta, Willow, Threep, and Loola (if you rescued her in Book 1) attend the party set-up and comment. You see them again on the way back to the party, when the Winged Warrior attacks. None of them get hurt, with Cherta being the only one really attacking the Winged Warrior.

If you Separated the Realms, all of the above characters are absent. Until the Winged Warrior kills the rest of the party and you get this:

As an extra little moment, Nia is throwing the streamers either way during set-up, but if the Realms are Separated, MC points out that she could use magic and Nia says this:

Book 3, Chapter 2:

In Merged or Bridged, Cherta asks Kade to back her up and says this to Threep's stubbornness:

In Separated, Willow is absent and Cherta has slightly different lines:

If you say “I don’t understand what that creature was”: (Merged/ Bridged on the left, Separated on the Right)

If you say “I don’t understand why it was targeting them”: (Merged/ Bridged on the left, Separated on the Right)

Slight change to Mal’s freak out in the Dwarves Wastes: (Merged/Bridged on the left, Separated on the Right)

In the Separated ending, the party is understandable confused when MC brings up Kade:

Book 3, Chapter 4 (original post here)

In Separated, there is additional dialogue while talking to Kade:

In the Merged/Bridged endings, Aerin says, “Everything is as usual with the goblins.” In the Separated ending, this happens instead:

Book 3, Chapter 6

Aerin’s diamond scene has extra dialogue in the Separated ending:

Book 3, Chapter 8

The way Bakshi shit talks you after calling you the ‘Heroes of the Realms’ a little sarcastically changes slightly based on the ending: (listed here from left to right as Merged, Bridged, Separated)

Book 3, Chapter 9

The way Scholar Vash shit talks you after saying, “There is a cost to every decision,” changes slightly: (listed here from left to right as Merged, Bridged, Separated)

Book 3, Chapter 16

After Bakshi joins with the river, Midys “pokes her head back in” to say this in the Separated ending:

And that's it! These are all the differences I’m aware of. But I did do this all in one mad dash because I got inspired, so let me know if I missed anything!

[lulublack90]

Prompt 4 - Hair

@jegulus-microfic March 4 Word count 983

Previous part First part

It took them a week to figure out where the chamber was, and that was only because Pandora came floating in while they were arguing back and forth about where the entrance could be. 

“It has to be in the dungeons. That’s where the Common room is.” Evan had argued. 

“Yeah, but where could it be? It’s all classrooms down there.” Barty was getting frustrated at their lack of progress. Pandora had peered over at all the notes they had spread over the floor and said. 

“Oh, the entrance is in the second-floor girl’s bathroom.”

“Yeah, sure, it is Pandora.” Evan rolled his eyes at his sister. Pandora flicked around, her hair billowing behind her with the sharp movement. 

“There is a snake carved into the tap of the sink, and moaning Myrtle was killed the last time it was opened when Tom Riddle was at school.” They all stared at her. Regulus pulled out his mirror and flipped it open. 

“James, we think we’ve found it.”

So now that’s where they stood. Regulus, James, Sirius, Barty, Evan, Pandora and Lily. Seven people who had left Hogwarts years ago and who shouldn’t have had any reason to be in that bathroom. 

They all had some sort of blade made of goblin silver. Luckily, there were enough old families in the group that they managed to scrounge enough pieces. 

Sirius also had a small bag strapped to his hip. It had one of his expansion charms on it. They’d been down to Hagrid’s chicken coop and stolen two roosters. And put them in it. 

The trouble they were having now was that none of them spoke parseltongue, so they were having trouble getting the chamber to open. That’s when moaning Myrtle appeared. 

“Ooo, it’s the Black brothers.” She cooed. “What are they doing here with all their friends?” 

“Hi, Myrtle.” Sirius grinned at her with his best smile. It was one he’d used many times to get what he wanted. “We’re trying to get into the secret chamber but can’t seem to open it. Do you know how?” He twirled a lock of his hair around his finger as he batted his eyelashes at her. 

Regulus hadn’t known that ghosts could blush, but apparently, they could. Myrtle’s ghostly pallor brightened under Sirius’s gaze. 

“There was a boy right before I died. I think he opened it. He said something in another language.” She floated closer to Sirius. 

“Can you remember what he said? It’s very important, Myrtle.” Sirius asked, keeping his voice soft and husky. Myrtle glowed even brighter. She opened her mouth, and she let out a strange hiss. Immediately, the sink behind them started moving, and a sliding passageway was revealed. 

Sirius looked at the ghost with wide eyes. “Myrtle, you’re amazing.” He grinned a real grin this time and lifted a hand to cup her cheek. 

Apparently, ghosts could also swoon. They left Myrtle floating horizontally along the floor as they clambered down the chute, one by one. 

“I’m so telling Remus about that,” Regulus whispered to his brother once they safely made it to the ground. Sirius shrugged. 

“It’s for the good of the cause. He’ll understand. Beside’s, he’d have to see me to be mad at me anyway.” Regulus had touched on a sore spot, and he knew it. Fenrir had been very possessive of Remus, only letting him leave when Voldemort requested the Wolves at a meeting. 

Remus hadn’t looked great the last time Regulus saw him. He was skinny, and his clothes were tattered. He hadn’t said much about it when he’d come and stood with him, Barty and Evan. The other wolves were keeping a close eye on him.

Regulus, had a plan to get Remus away from the pack for a bit, but it would have to wait until after they fought the Basilisk.

“You okay, love?” James had come up behind him and wrapped an arm around his waist. Regulus let himself relax into James’s touch just for a second before he untangled them. 

“We need to get moving.” He said as he squeezed James’s hand. “Don't forget to either keep your eyes closed or make sure you don’t look into its eyes. If you do, you’ll be dead.” He raised his voice so the others could hear him. 

“Wow, great pep talk there, Reg. Really feeling confident after that.” Barty groaned at him. Sirius slapped him on the back before Regulus could say anything to him. 

“Come on, Crouch. If everything goes right down here, we’re going to be legends.” Barty turned to grin wickedly at Sirius. 

“Let’s go kill this bloody snake.” 

The group walked cautiously down the stone passageway. It was littered with bones, and there was no way of moving without the sound of cracking bones echoing off the walls. 

The passageway went on forever. Turning this way and that, before they came to a wall blocking their way emblazoned with two entwining serpents.

“How do we get through that then?” Lily asked, running her hand over the stone. 

“Probably the same as the sink,” Pandora moved to stand beside her and hissed the same way Myrtle had. The snakes began to move, and the wall split in two. It moved out of sight, leaving the way before them clear. 

The chamber finally opened up. They all paused on the edge, looking at the pillars, each with a snake carved into it. 

“This is it,” Regulus said, his voice barely a whisper. He looked into James’s eyes. “I love you.” James smiled down at him and ducked his head, kissing Regulus softly. 

The other couples followed suit. 

“Alright enough, or I’m going to feed myself to the Basilisk!” Sirius complained. The others pulled away from each other, looking sheepish. 

They walked forward into the middle of the chamber and watched as a statue of Salazar Slytherin slowly opened its mouth.        

Next part

[wellthebardsdead]

*The emerald grove devil Au, where Lûnes life started off filled with love*

———

Keldran: *travelled all the way from baldurs gate, holding a basket in his hand with a tiny baby nestled within, unable to bring himself to kill him, but unable to obey Selûnes demands to keep him imprisoned, never mind so close to where so many cultists of the lord of the 8th could easily find him. Now walking through the empty streets of moonhaven, no signs of life beyond borded up windows of a village that never fully recovered from a century of assault, and heart heavy knowing he only has one option left before him and hoping natures chosen will find mercy even his own goddess feels unwilling to give* shhh… *sits down on a rock and lifts the baby from his basket, giving him his bottle and rocking him in the night air. His mind clouded and unable to see him as his own son despite having his eyes, unable to forgive the fact he’d been tricked by the spawn of Mephistopheles into siring him, but in this life deciding not to blame him for it* shhh… this is for the best child… *looks over at the wall barely hidden behind the rocks* …May silvanus have a kinder heart than our lady of silver… *looks down at him as he finishes the bottle and settles back to sleep* May you be given the love that I cannot give… *places him back in his basket and walks to the gate of the old oak grove, setting him down with a note pinned to his blanket, before casting blessing over him and praying Selûne will have mercy on him* good luck, Falûne… *walks off into the night leaving him there*

Falûne: *blinks awake slowly no longer sensing the swaying of his basket or the soft hum Keldran sang to keep him calm* h-heh- Heeeh!! *starts to cry and scream his little lungs out, trembling in the darkness of the dim moonlight, his shrieks so loud they cover the noise of the gate opening, only silencing as he’s lifted into two large hands* h-hweh! *looks up to see two warm eyes and a scarred but gentle face*

Halsin: oak father preserve me… where did you come from little one? *looks down at his blanket and sees the note, a long warning written on one side of who he is and who made him, of the ruin he will bring if not raised with care, and on the front, his name* Moon flower… Falûne. *smiles* hello little one… You can call me papa… *picks up his basket too and carries him into the grove*

*20 plus years later*

Falûne: *hanging upside down by a tree branch* you mean none of you smelt them? Only me? A bunch of funky smelling rats turn up at the grove and nobody bats an eye?

Rath: none of us expected them to be shadow Druids! *sighs* no matter. Khagas facing her punishment. I can only thank silvanus your nose picked up something off before they could do harm.

Falûne: hmph. Papa should’ve never let her reach the position of arch druid to begin with, she treats anyone different to her like salted earth…

Rath: she’s just-

Falûne: a racist. *jumps down* and I’m tired of everyone pretending she isn’t. *trots off across the bridge leading to the gate and the hollow, only to freeze as he sees Halsin guiding several wagons and other Tieflings into the grove, all of them exhausted, battered and weary* papa? *walks over and looks up at him* who are these people?

Halsin: refugees, from Elturel son, I found them while out scouting, they were attacked by gnolls and goblins.

Falûne: more attacks, I can hel-

Halsin: No. I won’t be having this conversation with you again either son. For the time being you stay within the grove unless you leave with me.

Falûne: but I can fight! You taught me-

Halsin: … *folds his arms*

Falûne: *bristling to argue but holds his tongue and pouts, hugging his staff* yes dad…

Halsin: good lad… *pats his hair* why don’t you help the refugees settle in? I saw a few around your age who could do with a friendly welcome.

Falûne: huh? *looks at him then at the caravans, catching the eyes of a certain blacksmith and a sulking wizard* I- *visibly blushing dark blue before hiding behind halsin*

[ariel-seagull-wings]

Hey Ariel!

I'm sure you're more than familiar with the hero vs. hero events that Marvel does.

And the fact that none of them are really that good.

However, one thing I've always thought about that I'm surprised none of these events ever covered are the villain.

Particularly, how we never see them take advantage of these events.

Since the only ones who are able to stop them are too busy kicking each other's shit in.

Like, you'd definitely know they would use that to their advantage.

So for a long time, I've been thinking about an idea that could either be a video game or a comic run.

And this idea is something I like to call "Marvel Revolution".

The story pretty much follows the events of Civil War.

After the incident in Stamford, the government are now petitioning for the Superhuman Registration Act, leading to the divide and eventual war between the superhero community.

However, there's a major twist.

The villains have been taking notice of this and how the heroes are fighting each other more than them!

So they all decide to make a massive alliance called The Masters of Evil, led by Doctor Doom, with the plan of taking out the heroes during their war with an ambush, since they're gonna too busy beating each other.

You know, kill two birds with one bird.

And on the day of the war, in the middle of the battle, most of the heroes suddenly find themselves trapped in magical spheres.

And soon enough, they're confronted by The Masters of Evil, who proceed to give them all the ass whooping of the century!

And once the beating is over, we would essentially get this exchange between the civilians and the Masters of Evil.

We then cut to a timeskip of about two years, where we find out that the world has been taken over by The Masters of Evil, with Doom as the supreme ruler of all Earth.

Not only that, but he's also given other major villains their own portions of the world to rule over.

Kingpin rules over the eastern half of The United States of America.

The Leader rules over The Western half of the States.

The Green Goblin rules over Canada.

A.I.M. rules over Latin America.

Klaw rules over Africa.

HYDRA rules over Europe.

Baron Mordo rules over North, South, West and Central Asia.

The Mandarin rules over East and Southeast Asia.

Magneto rules over Australia and the South Pacific.

And Loki rules over The Nine Realms.

As for the heroes, they've been imprisoned, being tortured just about every day.

But not all hope is lost.....

There's a resistance based out of The Savage Land, planning to free the imprisoned heroes and take down the villains.

This resistance primarily consists of the street-level heroes, The X-Men, and several notable civilian characters like Mary Jane, Edwin Jarvis, and Betty Ross.

All being led by Luke Cage and Cyclops.

As for how the former two groups managed to not get imprisoned.

After the beating, the street-level heroes were essentially left to rot.

As the MOE didn't really see them as something for them to be worried about.

As for The X-Men, just like in the original comic event, they stayed out of the whole ordeal because they felt that the public (being the brain-dead doofuses they are) would find some way to blame them for all of this.

But when, that's the overall gist of this idea.

One thing I think would be really interesting to see would be how the heroes and other key characters of Civil War like Miriam Sharpe would react to how everything went down.

Do you think they would show any genuine shame and guilt.for how the entire world went to shit because of them?

Also, how do you think Emma Frost would feel about having to work with humans for the sake of the world?

Emma Frost will say "I'm not working WITH humans. The humans work FOR me. I'm the mind who will have everything in control." She's not, but the other heroes let her believe she is because defeating the Masters of Evil is the priority.

[sapphira-mydnyte]

The Rogue Cursebreaker [Part 1]

Warning: Death, murder, illness, revenge.

Characters: Ominis Gaunt, Anne & Sebastian Sallow This was #2 of 10 on the HL fanfic list that fans voted for.

The Rogue Cursebreaker on Ao3 & Wattpad or here on tumblr... read below. ♥

Summary:

Sebastian Sallow isn't the man he used to be... not after a decade in Azkaban... or is he?

Sebastian had fallen from grace, retreating into himself for what he had done. No longer the extroverted show-off, he had instead gone silent & moved with the shadows. He regretted murdering his uncle, but nobody seemed to understand his reason why. Even worse? He had broken out of Azkaban & escaped unscathed, but not without leaving a trail of dead goblins & dead dark mages in his wake.

He returned to Scotland more powerful than ever, stealing books by the moonlight & returning them by the next nightfall to keep increasing his strength. He had learned to break curses, even Imperio & Crucio, by the books & training his ass off in the Forbidden Forest. Spiders, trolls, it didn't matter the foe he faced as long as he broke the curse he had inflicted upon them. The poachers & what remained of Rookwood's ashwinders were killed on sight for what had happened to his sister. He'd even found a few remaining loyalists of Rankrok's still roaming around his home of Feldcroft & killed them too.

Sebastian's heart had gone cold, no longer caring who saw his trail of blood in the fallen goblins, mages, trolls, dubogs & spiders. But word did get around that somebody was taking out countless foes with curses, although they didn't know who. Most suspected the Gaunts, but not Ominis, not since he took over the Auror department. None of them suspected that it was Sebastian Sallow... the boy who killed his own uncle. However, it wouldn't be long before someone found him.

"Go fucking figure! It would be you, Ominis! Why? Is it my life you want?" The blond felt the rage simmering off of his old friend, ready to take him out if he made a wrong move. "No, Sebastian, although I should rightfully throw your arse back in Azkaban for the bloody trail you've left & escaping. But what good will that do? You've broken out once already & I know you'll find a way to do it again. You were too smart to stay locked up for long at Hogwarts when we got into trouble as well." Sebastian looked on at Ominis, wondering what his fate would be. "I know you won't use a curse on me either, so how do you plan to end me? Snakes? I can see you doing that." Ominis shook his head & smiled. "Why take your life when you're worth more Galleons than my entire team? I have a better idea. I'll make you a cursebreaker & let you be the executioner to the darkest wizards & witches... especially my family." Sebastian had a dark smirk crawling across his face. "Ohh! I get to save innocents & throw down as I see fit when called to end the lives of the damned? Count me in."

Ominis gave a sly smirk, knowing how his old friend loved the thrill of the fight & breaking all the rules to get things done. “Yes, but, I know how much you use the curses by instinct, so, in exchange for taking out every idiot on my list as you see fit & cure the victims, I’ll cover your tracks. I’ll make sure you stay hidden until the list is cleared of the worst mages. Should you be ready to come out to the public, none but me can reveal you. You’re my rogue cursebreaker Sebastian & I intend for your comeback to be glorious.” Redemption for Sebastian wouldn’t be easy, but Ominis was willing to pull strings as hard as he could for this. He knew Sebastian had acted out of rage back then, but he had been patient & Sebastian had grown since then.

Sebastian was smiling darkly, but the happiness within him burned bright. He ached for battle, ached for freedom, but even more so, to redeem himself for his sister & make sure she was avenged. “Fine with me. Whatever darkness is kicking your ass, I’ll end it, whoever needs the curses broken, I’m more than up for. Anne deserves to be avenged this way anyway. I’m not alright in my mind, not sane enough to face her…yet.” He couldn’t fathom facing his sister now, not for all he had done, but he hoped that working with Ominis would work off the years of sadness, rage & pain he felt. If he never saw Anne again, he’d at least come to terms in knowing that he’d fight in her honor by helping those who suffered like she did.

Ominis hung his head low when Anne was mentioned, for he was the only one who knew what had happened to her. “Speaking of Anne, your sister is in critical condition. The sickness has forced her into near full paralysis & she’s now in hospice care. She’s nearly out of time Sebastian, so I’m afraid that if you don’t see her soon, she’ll die. Cruciform was cast upon her with so much hatred that her body has broke down from the years of pain, but…if you think you can do it…you just might be able to save her.” Tears fell from his blue eyes just thinking about Anne dying, knowing Sebastian would truly be broken forever from it & lose what sanity he had left. The sadness tore at him, until Sebastian hugged him.

“Oh shit! No…” His heart was breaking, his mind racing, every instinct now screaming to be with her. Tears fell from his dark eyes for the first time since he was jailed, the shock locking his heart down into survival mode once more. “She has one chance left Ominis & I intend for you to be there with us when I do it. I’ll free her if you have the healing power in some way. I want to break her curse first & I’ll do anything for it.” He couldn't take the pain knowing what Anne's fate was, nor could he ignore the instinct that now howled in him. {SAVE HER!} He didn't care what the price was, as long as Anne got her freedom. "If it means being locked away for the rest of my life again, then so be it, I'll give my freedom for her. I don't fucking care!" Tears fell from Sebastian's dark brown eyes, his voice broke into a full scream as the pain of Anne's suffering hit him inside once more. His sister was his undoing, because nothing mattered more than her.

Ominis had never heard Sebastian break down like this, not since he killed his Uncle Soloman. No, Sebastian was more broken over Anne than the murder he had committed in the past. He still put his own sister over himself, so willing to help her that he'd give up everything if it meant she lived. "I honestly hope it doesn't come to that Sebastian. I don't want you to be locked up for your murder if you save Anne. That should be redemption & it is as far as I'm concerned." His bright blue eyes landed on Sebastian, even though he couldn't see without his wand, they still showed the emotion in them. "I'll do what I can to convince the Ministry to let you remain free if you save her & stay in as our rogue cursebreaker. I will do everything to keep you out of Azkaban, but I'll kick somebody's ass myself if Anne not only is cured, but makes a full recovery too because of you! Matter of fact, why don't we do like we used to? Let's go sneak off to her room tonight & see what we can do while she sleeps."

Sebastian's eyes lit up, his heart aching, his blood burning, but the adrenaline was higher than it had ever been for him. "I can't believe this, I can't believe that you're willing to break every rule for me & her." Ominis smirked. "You & her are the ONLY family I ever truly had, so, I owe both of you everything." The proud blond wasn't one to waste time, not when Anne was at the end of her rope with her sickness. He grabbed Sebastian's hand & pulled him up into his arms. "I can be mad at you for a lot of things, but you're desire to save Anne is one that I can't be mad about."

Ominis managed to open a portal straight to the hallway where Anne's room was, not daring to wake her. The boys made it to her room without any delay & Ominis opened the door as quietly as he could. He & Sebastian walked in, but upon seeing Anne's face, tears fell from Sebastian's dark eyes as he went to her side. Anne turned towards him, opening her eyes... not believing what she saw. "No... no way..." She started crying as soon as she met his eyes, breaking down entirely. "Sebastian!! Ohh! Brother!" She jumped up with what strength she had, hugging him as she cried.

Ominis, knew that this is what they needed, but time was of the essence. "What do you say Sebastian? You have very little time to save her & your freedom is on the line." The twins turned to him, fighting down their emotions. "I'll do it... you know damn well I will." Sebastian's eyes had a wildfire burning in them & although she broke down crying, Anne knew the truth of her own brother. He'd give his life for hers to eliminate her illness, no matter the price. "Show them no mercy brother, not for what was done to me." She pulled her wand out from her pocket & stuck it in his as she kissed his cheek. "Rogue you will be to many, a hero to others, but you're my brother & nobody shall take you from me with my wand in your hands alongside your own. Now go... go Sebastian. Go find what is needed to save me."

~End of part 1~

[eilinelsghost]

since im not a writer im sending this ask straight to some of my favorite writers:

December ask game! As we're finishing out 2024, what is one thing from your writing this year that you're particularly proud of? And what is one fic you wrote that you would recommend for others to read?

Pass this along to other writers you admire and let's get some good end of year self-promotion going!

Thank you so much, this is so kind!

Something from my writing that I'm proud of

This is a great question. I had to think on this a bit because I tend to be a bit down on my writing once I post it, so this was actually a really helpful ask to make me confront that a bit! So something I'm proud of this year would be the portrayal of Orcs in These Echoes We Have Left.

Here is an excerpt of their initial description:

There were three of them at the edge of the tree-line. Two lingered in the deep shadows beneath the boughs, only noticeable in the brief glint of hair. The third stood at the boundary of the shade, pale eyes trained on Balan, with a wide-bladed dagger gripped in each hand. Goblins. Orqui,5 his mind translated in frantic distraction, from the root urco: prowling creature, a thing that brings fear. Another rustle, this time from the bracken to his left, and he spun round with a hiss. There were four now, either that or one of the hindmost had circled back without his notice. This newest stood less than a stone’s throw from him. Other than corpses, he had never seen one so near outside the muddle of battle, and despite himself the curiosity held him transfixed. It was the hair that caught his eye at once, its variation of bone-white and colorless strands striking against the dark woods. Red ochre had been rubbed in strips throughout its length, along with some other pigment of burnt black, and these had been woven with the untinted hair into a series of patterns, some matching between the individuals so that Balan wondered whether they stood as a signifier—rank or kin or some other category of Angband that he guessed not. In contrast, the skin was pallid and nearly translucent about the surface, so that hues of muscle and sinew leaked into sight—a sickly pink, like chicken flesh or the salted trout Esrid’s people had taught his to preserve—and the eyes that lingered on him were cloudy, their irises dark as jet. But it was the lines of the face that captured him, more familiar in movement than they had been through death’s mask, for here they yet held an echo of some bygone beauty. I told you once of those who were taken by the Foe’s servants... Nóm’s voice echoed in his memory and with it Balan’s fear overmastered him at last and he broke away, sprinting hard for the opposite tree-line.

And again later in the installment when Finrod and Bëor are talking in the aftermath:

“I could understand them.” Balan’s gaze settled on a raven gliding over the ridge, his voice quiet now that the mirth had passed. “Not everything, but enough that I could follow their intent. They said danwedh. They spoke your tongue.” “Yes. Fragments of it.” Finrod too fixed his eyes upon the raven and focused on each beat of its wings. He could still hear the last Orc’s voice in his ear—otheidior! otheidior![1] It had taken his full weight to push through her grip for the kill and she held his eye all the while, hissing condemnation as the knife drove slowly into her chest. He shuddered. “They draw from other tongues, borrowing and shifting as it suits, but there is not one cohesive form among them—or none that we have been able to discern.” “I believed thee not when thou didst speak of them as rooted from thine own kind.” The raven passed out of sight and Balan shivered, moving nearer in reflex. “I saw it in these. Perhaps because they are the first I’ve faced since dwelling among you, but there was familiarity. I could see their beauty still.” Their arms had shifted together upon the stone and Finrod grounded himself in the touch, setting his center-point in the warmth of their meeting. “We were ambushed the first time I killed, wandering and half-starved from the Ice when Orcs fell upon us.” There had been horror in Balan’s stare when Finrod rose from the carnage the night before, stark and unmistakable amid the relief. He tried to press the memory aside. “He was young, I think, a hand’s breadth taller than I, with a face of my father’s shape. My knife pierced his skull like a chisel.” He broke off for a long moment and when he began again, his voice was flat. “I retched when the battle was done, over and again on the bloodied ground until naught was left but my own horror shivering within me. It was years ere I could work in stone, so close was its strike and give to my blade against his bone.” His fingers pressed hard against the parapet as though holding himself to the present and he trembled with the force of his grip. “And now I have killed ten of their number and say to thee with ease that I took no great harm. Little wonder we seek to believe them formed of mud and malice. How can we reckon with our own deeds else?”

[1] otheidior: Sindarin, approximation of "usurper"

One fic from this year I would recommend

Oh I'm so happy because I couldn't remember if this one was 2024 or not, but it just squeaked in with a January posting! This one is a surprise favorite of mine. I was sort of lukewarm on it when I published it, but I have grown increasingly proud of it as the year has gone on. And now I think it's one of my favorite things I've written:

Rating: T Word count: 15.1k (sorry sorry) Characters: Finrod, Beren, Edrahil, Original characters, (also featuring Andreth, Aegnor, and Bëor) Summary: At the Pools of Ivrin, Finrod, Beren, and their ten companions rest for one final day of safety before crossing east of the Narog and setting out toward the Pass of Sirion.

Thanks so much for the ask!

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

Evie (Ace!Tav) Playthrough Day 4

(I love Evie in this fit)

Day 1… Day 3- Day 5

Astarion x Evie (Ace!Tav) Masterlist

For the uninitiated, I wrote a Tav well before I ever had a chance to play the game. Now, I finally can and thought it might be fun for my first play through to be as that Tav. Or, at least as much as the game play will allow me.

These are just some of my notes and scattered highlights that I thought would be fun to share.

Let me know if you think if I should continue this and any suggestions you might have.

So much happened you guys holy shit!!!

Technically this is a combination of two days, since I didn't have time last night and figured I'd wait until after I played some more today (there is just so much of this game I feel like two hour sessions barely scratch the surface)

First off, it took me way too long to figure out how to deactivate the traps in the back cavern in the Emerald Grove

Legitimately nearly died twice; if it weren't for my saves I would have

Not ashamed to admit, I needed to google it; I have never claimed to be a "gamer"

Still got it sorted (and if anybody knows how to get to that center bit in the middle of the cavern, please let me know)

After that decided to go after best girl Karlach

Ran into the Owl Bear cave first and I am upset

I *really* didn't want to kill the Owl Bear mama, but even with non-lethal damage the cub still eats it's mother; seems like it all is the same in the end

I'm now thinking more and more that Evie and Shadowheart get to be good friends; Evie takes a more benefit of the doubt approach to people, and I don't think she knows enough about the Gods and Shar specifically to have many thoughts on the subject

I've been purposefully handing all the books and other info to whoever else is there so Evie doesn't get the info from reading

Lae'zel and Shadowheart are also majorly at each other's throats in the first act

Lae'zel also would not be a fan of Evie; Evie comparatively talks way too much for Lae'zel's taste (+11 to Persuasion will do that to a person) (did I mention I love bards)

Did eventually get to Karlach and she's so great guys! I knew I was going to love her, but I *love* her

She deserves to wreck the Paladins of Tyr hide out, as a treat

(That one bitch was giving me so much trouble, thank God for Wyll's Eldritch Blast or we would have been spending all our actions just trying to keep up)

I am once again faced with not being able to punch a ginger bitch because of *consequences*

Also, I hate all the options they give you when talking to Wyll after he's transformed into a devil

None of this is what Evie would say to him!

Either way though, I am secure in the fact that Wyll would like Evie (even if he's not a fan of her trust in Astarion)

So, one long rest later and we're heading towards the Blighted Villiage; Astarion, Gale and Karlach in toe

Came across the boar and Astarion really is so suspicious

I also think at this point Astarion really doesn't know what to make of Evie; placing her in category bleeding heart no doubt and not certain of her abilities

She's a good talker, as she's able to convince the goblins to let them pass without a fight

On the other hand, she did assists Gale with his little problem, sacrificing a necklace of Dancing Lights

Also it doesn't help that she was nice to a gnome

I think what starts to change his mind though is when they meet Raphael on the road

I really do wish you could give Gur as a background, because even if Evie didn't grow up in the caravan, I do think just culturally she'd pick up on stuff

Not trusting devils I'm sure is top of the list

I wasn't expecting to have Evie so viscerally mistrusting of Raphael, but it felt right to play it that way

I'm not sure who he'd remind her of in her past, but I do think there is something beyond just him being a devil that rubs her the wrong way

Either way, her rejection of a devil's bargain that would not only enslave her, but likely them as well, even in exchange for a cure does re-color some things

Not sure where to insert this in the grand scheme of the narrative, but Evie did let Astarion open the door on the orger and hobgoblin

Evie's talking did not help in this situation

I know the narrative makes it clear what's happening, but I'm thinking Evie might have had a random ace blind spot moment

Like she's not totally naive about sex, but when it's usually the last thing on your mind (and you just talked with a devil), it's not the first thing you picture at the sound of banging

Not her smoothest moment; (honestly the sudden violence is a god send for everyone not to ask her more questions about it)

Either way, went back to the grove with some of the infernal iron and got Karlach stabilized at least

I love Karlach and Wyll's friendship, I support wholesome ships; low key starting to ship her with Dammon though

He's real cute, Karlach deserves a nice guy, and you know he'd roll with the punches

Another long rest later and we're here

The scene

I've been thinking about the build up to this scene

Obviously we know in origins it's after Astarion has a vision of Cazador and wanting to push the limits of his new found freedom by going against one of his rules

But I keep coming back to why Evie

Astarion can likely smell something being wrong with Gale's blood, Wyll just turned into a devil and would likely kill him, Karlach's blood is literal fire, and Lae'zel would also absolutely kill him

That leaves Shadowheart and Evie

Shadowheart is a big question mark to him; she follows Shar, maybe she might even like being bitten

But then there's Evie who has shown time and time again that she wants to help

This is about survival after all, and it would only be a taste

IDK, exploring it; add it to the list of possible future fics

But Evie obviously does wake up and does allow Astarion to bite her

As for Evie's motivations as to why, yes, Astarion is a prickly bastard, but he's in the same boat as the rest of them

If he wanted to hurt them, surely he would have done it by now

She recognizes the look in his eyes, Gods know she's worn it enough; the man is starving, the fact he hasn't done anything until now says a lot

This is definitely the shift in her and Astarion's relationship where they start to actually warm up to each other

So next morning gang wakes up, Evie stands up to Astarion saying she trusts him and heads out again towards the goblin camp; Shadowheart, Astarion and Lae'zel in toe

So Evie's current standing with the party;

Gale has disclosed his condition and gotten the first magical item; high rating with Evie, thinks of her as somebody who he can not only trust, but as someone who has shown bravery and true kindness (not to mention eloquence); maybe starting to form an...appreciation

Wyll has turned into a devil and certainly likes Evie, but maybe a little doubtful in her trust in Astarion and some dealings with the goblins

Shadowheart; genuinely trusts Evie as she's revealed her ambitions as a follower of Shar, and used the artifact in front of Evie in order to protect them from the influence of The Absolute (also might be starting to crush on her, but Evie has not been taking the opportunity to flirt)

Karlach: too soon to tell, but seems like a good person

Lae'zel: not a fan, too weak willed and doesn't know her place; talks too much

Astarion; unsure, certainly knows he can trust her now, to an extent; still too much of a bleeding heart, but then again, it's helped him; at the very least she knows to draw the line with devils and willing to kill to stay alive, over all a fair ally to have

Oh! I can't believe I forgot about my new best boy!

Scratch!

[baldurs-gape]

Untethered

The fight had been brutal but they made it out alive. Exhausted, running on fumes and in desperate need of a meal, more healing and rest, the four trudged back towards camp. Shadowheart and Wyll helped each other along at the back while Astarion was out front. Even though he tried to look his usual, nonchalant self, his movements were heavy and less than gracefull as he climbed over fallen tree. Karlach wasn't far behind him, equally tired but less caring about appearances.

She saw the moment Astarion tumbled and hunched over. An arrrow was sticking out of his shoulder. Any other day he would have probably spotted the assailant but, given their general state, he and all the others had been taken by complete surprise. The goblins were more intelligent than expected, keeping to the high ground and trying to pick them off rather than rush in. Karlach could only do so much by throwing things in their general direction, Wyll and Shadowheart were out of spells and Astarion wasn't having an easy time.

"For the Absolute!" One of the goblins yelled. At least that explained their higher than average intelligence in their attack. Another arrow loosened and Wyll went down. While Shadowheart tried to help him up, Astarion looked back at them and then Karlach. "Cover me!"

In a fight there was no time to think. Karlach had enough trust in Astarion to do as told, she shielded him as he crouched down, eyes scrunched up. Something stirred. It wasn't the air, that had gone deathly still. Still, it felt as though a sinister wind was blowing through their minds, whispering unintelligible words. Gradually, the voice cleared into two overlapping layers of someone familiar. The one that was stronger for the Karlach, Wyll and Shadowheart whispered "stay strong, close off" yet the other voice was a seductive rumble of "kill yourself, make the Absolute proud". It was Astarion's dulcet tones and Karlach felt herself torn between the two conflicting commands. Around them, the goblins seemed to be fighting a similar yet losing battle. One by one they went down by their own hand until it was just the four of them left on the road once more. As Wyll got up, Astarion keeled over, limp as he toppled from his crouch.

"Shit." Ever eloquent, Karlach tried to shake him awake to no effect. "He needs healing! Don't give up, soldier."

Frantic searching revealed that there wasn't even a stray drop of healing potion left between them. No healing spells or scrolls either. They needed to do something to get Astarion back on his feet though.

"Blood?" Wyll suggested tentatively. "A well-fed vampire heals faster, right?"

"Where do you propose we get him blood from? I don't exactly see vampiric health boutique." The jab was just another sign that Shadowheart was worried.

Rather than deign to reply, Wyll grabbed his dagger and swiftly sliced along the back of his arm. Blood welled and dripped in a rich flow. Thankfully, Karlach was more on the ball and she helped turn Astarion's head, lips falling naturally open. Droplet by droplet, blood began to stain his teeth, lips and tongue. Swallowing was a reflex and Wyll gave his arm a squeeze to get a bit more blood out.

None of the expected the low, pained moad from Astarion. Then again, maybe they should have. He thrashed and Karlach had to hold him still so Wyll could give him a little more blood. Even though pale eyelashes fluttered, Astarion's face contorted in pain as he tried to squirm away from the blood.

"It's hurting him." Statement of the century from Karlach as she fought against Astarion's increasingly frantic movements. "Fuck, is your blood like Gale's to him?"

It hadn't crossed Wyll's mind and he quickly withdrew. Astarion definitely looked better yet worse for wear. The wound from the arrow was closing but his pain levels seemed to be getting excessive.

"Maybe. Shawdowheart, maybe you could counteract it?"

Not shying away from what was essentially a blood offering, Shadowheart cut her palm. Her blood mingled with Wyll's on Astarion's lips. If anything, it made things worse. Astarion's back arched off the ground as he screamed, needing to be held down.

"Shar is bad for him?" Wyll asked as they tried to keep him safe.

"I don't think mine would be any good, would boil him before it did any good." Under them, Astarion writhed in seeming agony. There was nothing they could, couldn't even move him until the cries dwindled into small whimpers and gasps. It didn't look like Astarion was quite with it. Karlach scooped him up. "We need to get him to camp."

Fatigue slowed them somewhat but there was a new sense of urgency. Astarion wasn't fully conscious, whimpering with each jostle even though his body seemed mostly healed from the worst injuries. All but running into camp, they were all calling for help jsut as dawn threatened to break.

Gale was on his knees next to Astarion, turning him onto his back. Though he had no healing spells prepared or a potion to hand, he gently brushed the damp hair from Astarion's forehead.

"I wish I could offer my blood to help. But I'm afraid I'd only do more harm than good."

"Let me try." Lae'zel pushed him aside and slice her arm deep for a rich flow. After the first swallow, Astarion seized. Twisted and rigid to the point that his bones creaked, even the scream died in his throat.

That was the point Halsin appeared, potion bottles in hand. "I didn't think your blood would be too alien for him," he rumbled. "But maybe he's sensitive. Let me help him."

The gentle light of healing didn't achieve much. Nor did the potion Halsin poured down Astarion's throat with Gale's help. Through it all, Astarion whimpered and cried, delirious with pain.

"One more idea." Halsin drank a healing potion and cast a spell on himself before pushing his arm into Astarion's mouth, forcing his fangs to break the skin. In theory his blood should carry the healing properties of spell and potion over to Astarion. In practice Astarion twisted with renewed agony but Halsin followed him, brows furrowed in concentration.

Spasming body slipping from Gale's grip, he tried to think of a way, any way to ease the pain and stop the horrors.

"What if it's the blood?"

It made Halsin pull away. After a few more quivers, Astarion settled into soft trembles of exhaustion. Another minute and his eyes fluttered open. Another whimper of pain left him. As least he seemed to be more aware. Rather than fearsome, he looked pathetic with blood smeared over his face, eyse watery and tear tracks on his cheeks.

A huff was followed by a soft "ow".

"I'm so sorry," Halsin rumbled, "we were only trying to help."

Not looking at him, Astarion's eyes were fixed on something else. A little moreforceful "ow" left him and his outstretched arm wriggled.

"I know-"

"Halsin!" Gale's voice was tight with shock. "Cover him, he's burning!"

The camp once again exploded into disarray as Astarion was simulaneously bundled into a bedroll and also rushed to the safety of the nearest tent. It just so happened to be Wyll's.

"What the fuck is going on?" They all congregated in the small space. "Shouldn't the tadpole be on top of this?"

Shadowheart grabbed the astral prism and shook it. "Hey, Emperor. We need to talk."

While they waited, another healing potion was gently pressed against Astarion's lips. He gulped it down with a dazed sigh as his hand recovered from the lick of morning sun. Eyes slowly drifting from face to face like he was seeing them for the first time, he licked his lips and cleared his throat.

"I can't hear any of you." Which made no sense. But now that they tried, Astarion's usual presence through the tadpoles was absent. A watery laugh broke through Astarion's lips. It turned into a cough and a sob. "I'm free."

"The tadpole is still there, I'm afraid," Gale replied, eyes wild with concern as he looked to the others for help.

"No. No." Astarion curled onto his side hugging himself into a ball. "He's gone. I don't need to go back."

Exchanging glances, the others tried to figure out just what Astarion was on about. The disembodied voice of the Emperor echoed through their skulls.

"It seems he's overexerted his tadpole. Such a thing is unheard of." Again, it didn't explain much but nobody dared question it. "His effort to protect his friends while killing the goblins was an unexpected success but it nearly destroyed the tadpole in his brain. It is currently unable to offer any of the protection it previously had against his condition as a spawn."

Understanding dawned on Wyll's face. "The compulsions."

"Thou shalt not leave my side, or whatever that bastard drilled into him. You don't feel compelled to go back to him?"

Astarion's reply was a shake of his head and another soft sniffle.

"How?" Gale stroked through the mess of white hair, more to sooth himself than Astarion with the touch.

It was Halsin who drew a deep breath. "Our blood. One of the rules was 'thou shalt not drink the blood of a thinking creature' was it not?"

"To go against a compulsion is agony. Madness inducing pain that kills."

"Unless you've spent 200 years getting acquainted with torment," Lae'zel cut in. "Which his master had made sure he was intimately familiar with."

Struggling to sit up, Astarion scrubbed at his face. A little lost, he wasn't certain what to do now. Everything still hurt but he needed to test the theory beyond simply not returning to Cazador's side.

"We need to test this."

Without a word, Halsin offered up his arm. Everyone watched with bated breath as Astarion cradled it in two hands, obviously gearing up for failure. His lips opened, fangs settled over Halsin's arm and he bit down. Eyes fluttering closed, a small moan left him as blood rushed into his mouth. No agony of even attempting to break a compulsion. Only the bliss of thick, rich blood. It tasted even better than when the tadpole was shielding him. The difficulty was stopping but Astarion just about managed, licking a little of the smeared blood from warm skin. For the first time in two centuries, a real smile graced his lips.

[blackjackkent]

There are two major questions regarding taking Rakha through Rivington. The first is what order to do things; based on my previous banter posts, the group's immediate top priority is seeing what's going on with the refugees.

The second, more important question is how I convince her to visit the circus, which I don't have an answer for yet. :P I think it will probably have something to do with Wyll saying he liked Dribbles when he was a kid. But we'll worry about that later.

For now, we'll start off with the refugees, because Wyll and Minthara have both, for different reasons, expressed concern about them not being let into the city. (And Lae'zel approved of them helping Yenna, and realistically Jaheira must have expressed approval for all of this too even though the game didn't have her do so.) All of which is good reason for Rakha to consider it a priority, given how often she follows their examples.

Upon walking into Rivington proper, she's presented with an immediate first chance to get involved in the refugee crisis, as represented by a merchant in fine clothes arguing with a man who looks like he hasn't slept or had a bath in a week.

"The place was empty!" the man yelps defensively as Rakha approaches. "Keep those thugs away from my family!"

"Zenovia!" the merchant wails petulantly. "Get these squatters out of my house - now."

The woman at his side - Zenovia - is dressed in fairly well-kept armor and has a sword on her back; Rakha's attention immediately homes in on her, disregarding the two men in favor of this woman as the only threat in the immediate vicinity.

"Arfur, sweetheart," the woman says, with a slow, nasty smile, "you paid me and my boys to be caravan guards, not cattle wranglers. If you want us to get our hands dirty, it'd be our pleasure - but that'll be extra."

She has a casual unpleasantness about her that strikes Rakha as familiar but takes her a moment to place, until she remembers Aradin, the mercenary at the Grove who abandoned Halsin to the goblin camp. The one who called Rakha half-breed.

This woman is like him, then. Another merc, then. Rakha, as a result, dislikes her immediately.

"What's going on?"(*) she asks curtly.

"I just want to remove these unlawful interlopers from my property!" the merchant - Arfur - says stridently. He seems mildly unnerved by the strange shadow-touched half-orc staring him down, but not enough to undermine his concern for his material goods.

(A/N: Literally none of the available responses here are particularly Rakha-ish, but the Dark Urge-specific one is funny, so we'll go with that.)

Rakha looks at him with an air of mild perplexity and cocks her head slowly to one side like a dog solving a puzzle. "None of this would have happened," she says, serious as a funeral, "if you had a butler manning the house."

No one seems to know what to say to this - except Wyll, who (as the only one who heard Rakha's full, chaotic explanation of Sceleritas the night she almost lost control) is able to clock this as the rare instance of Rakha (deeply unsure of what to do) making a joke. He chuckles low in his throat, and sees her mouth tug up almost imperceptibly in satisfaction.

Arfur, meanwhile, just has no idea what she's talking about. He stares at her for a long moment, then presses on as if she hadn't said anything.

"Look - I have some very valuable components in there," he whines. "I need to get that lot out before they damage something."

Rakha doesn't deeply care about this man or his house. She doesn't really care instinctively about the refugees either, but she knows Wyll does. And she doesn't like his merc companion. By all this logic, she already was sided against Arfur. But she isn't sure of the correct way out of this situation.

Certainly not what the beast in her head wants, which is to kill the lot of them and take the house for herself.

"Mind if I take a look?" she asks tightly. Perhaps she can retrieve the "components" Arfur mentions and get him to go away.

If she expected a good response, she doesn't get it. Arfur straightens up indignantly and wails, "Who do you think you are?! Zenovia - people are lining up to break into my property! Do something about it!"

The mercenary's lips curl again in that nasty grin. "You paid us to protect you and your high-quality merchandise on the road," she drawls. "And we've since arrived at our destination. As I said, anything else is extra."

Arfur scowls, patting his pockets and pulling out a handful of gold. "Ugh," he mutters. "This is the last time I hire someone from the Guild. Fine. Here's the extra. Finish. The. Job." He turns and stares at Rakha balefully. "Now please show this meddler some of that famous Rivington hospitality."

Rakha is still in the process of determining what this means when an arrow goes whistling past her ear and lodges in the wood wall behind her. Immediately her vision goes white and fire flares around her hands as the urge into violence, thus pushed, takes over everything else.

It never ends, she manages to think bitterly. As before, so now. Even when I try to follow a better path. The beast still ends up with what it wants in the end.

-----

(*) Full line in game: "Calm down and tell me what's going on." Adjusted to be more Rakha-ish.

[the-muffin-master]

TAV INFO | approvals, camp behavior, etc

TAV INFO | before the nautiloid -- here (1/2) and here (2/2)

GETTING IN CHARACTER

The moment I decided to get into roleplaying Zyra as a character and not as a self-insert (which was, admittedly, very early on in my first campaign) I realized this would take severe brainstorming. The fun and tricky part about their fixation on dethroning their nation’s king is that it says a lot about them regarding thoughts on privilege, nobility, wealth distribution… but that also means that a lot of their personality was outshined by this aspect alone.

Zyra’s life purpose and main driving force was getting revenge for her friend. She grew up and did everything she did to ultimately fail and be thrown into a future where none of it matters. It’s not an exaggeration to say that, without a cause to fight for, he wouldn’t know who he is. So we’d slowly watch him getting a feel for where he stands on certain issues, what his values are, what are his priorities.

THE GOOD

- wake up, sheeple: Zyra would disapprove of following rules blindly, especially if it hurts innocent third-parties;

- we live in a society: they’d approve confronting authorities and saving refugees / children / the less fortunate. On the other hand, they'd disapprove saving rich, privileged people (telling off that guy in Baldur’s Gate who doesn’t want to share his home with refugees earns you approval) and be neutral about helping random strangers;

- chaotic neutral: they’d approve insulting Kagha, saving Mayrina, poking fun of Auntie Ethel, letting Astarion (if the party knows he’s a vampire) fight Gandrel, playing hide-and-seek with Oliver, etc.

Zyra will leave your party if you kill the tieflings instead of the goblins in act 1 because they're very ride-or-die for their kin. I want to expand on this, but so far I've been picturing Zevlor as a father figure, Rolan as an annoying cousin and Alfira as a trustworthy sister.

THE SAD

Zyra would probably have a hard time establishing bonds after waking up. I’d imagine they either lost or fell out of touch with most if not all of their friends from before imprisonment. Some have certainly died since, while the rest naturally had to move on. And despite it being an understandable reaction to having someone vanish for over a century, there’s a little bit of resentment / whiff of abandonment issues Zyra has to work through.

To elaborate on this struggle, just remember that Zyra is afraid of falling asleep. Their world fast-forwarded in the blink of an eye and there’s a looming threat of it happening AGAIN the next time they go to bed. This makes befriending others even harder because it feels pointless. Like, what’s the point of getting attached if you could open your eyes tomorrow and they wouldn’t be there anymore?

I can’t think of a clever Waiting for Godot reference but just know it’s in there somewhere. "There wasn't anyone waiting for me when I woke up" or whatever they said in Ace Attorney – which, by the way, if you think this plotline with slipping into a coma after being poisoned then waking up years later is far fetched, GO PLAY TRIALS AND TRIBULATIONS. Look out for a character named Diego Armando then try telling me it doesn’t go hard.

Their insecurity would only start to subside as their companion quest progresses and there’s hope for their condition, at which point they’d be able to make healthy connections.

Their wishes reflected on the mirror in Blighted Village would be:

1. I’d see my mother, her eyes filled with familiarity and recognition, waiting for me at our doorstep. 2. I’d see my best friend once more, alive and grinning from ear to ear. 3. I’d see myself as part of something greater again.

THE WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT

Due to their past, Zyra wouldn’t trust all-powerful entities like Shar / Vlaakith / Mystra, but they wouldn’t vocalize their disdain unless prompted. In my mind, this would spark conflict in act 1, where either Lae’zel or Shadowheart would say something equivalent to “if you stand for nothing, what do you fall for?” (which just makes Zyra even angrier, because the answer is freedom – and you don’t gain freedom by blindly following a leader).

As time passes, they’d learn to trust some authorities (Ulder Ravengard, although mostly due to his connection with Wyll; Selûne and Lady Aylin; etc). However, a few select ones (Gortash, The Emperor, etc) still deserve to be challenged, so it would be a long process.

I’d love to see Gale frustrated because Zyra refuses to put up with Mystra’s plan. Since the two would’ve previously bonded over the similarities between magic and music, it could feel like a betrayal to not trust the literal Goddess of Magic. Adjacently related but I believe Gale, out of all companions, would have the funniest reaction to the realization Zyra was asleep during the entirety of the Spellplague. Mystra DIED and Zyra was having the nap of their life.

Orpheus (if turned into a mind flayer) is an interesting case. Zyra would be onboard taking down Vlaakith, obviously! But she wouldn’t vibe with his desire to sacrifice himself at the end of act 3. For one, she believes Orpheus can remain in control of his faculties after the Netherbrain has fallen. Zyra also thinks he should get to see his legacy – much like Lae’zel, Voss doesn’t seem like the type to mind that the hero of legend looks a bit unorthodox.

Zyra is a “do as I say, not as I do” type in the sense that he’d be willing to die for a cause, but would frown upon someone else doing it. There’s something to be said about the awareness that rushing head-first to be a hero causes more harm than good and his stubbornness to accept his place in the world. Or rather, that he doesn’t have to “earn” a place in the world, he simply has it by virtue of being alive.

CAMP BEHAVIOR

She’s seen playing an instrument (it varies) or writing down something then furiously scribbling over it, crumpling the paper up and throwing it over her shoulder. During the first act, he’s not depicted sleeping like the others at long rests, either lying awake or not on his bedroll at all. Instead, they’ll pace the woods playing melancholic melodies to pass the time, too afraid to close their eyes for the night.

[hawkogurl]

Thank you so much for getting the actual concept of Jekyll and Hyde as written in the original novella versus the modern pop culture version of good half vs evil half right! It's one of those things where I get where the misinterpretation comes from, but it's so frustrating when people misattribute what the story was about to bolster their arguments - and even if it was about good versus evil rather than (lack of) responsibility, it wouldn't apply to Raimi!Norman anyway bc he wasn't originally written like that.

I've seen people try to argue post-NWH that Norman's final scene in the first Raimi film is the true good Norman coming out to genuinely plead with Peter before the Goblin takes over, but that's very much not how the scene plays out? He's so clearly setting up Peter's murder while luring him into a false sense of security and drops the mask once Peter rejects him and Norman no longer needs to manipulate him, and either way, the scene and Norman's characterization is far more interesting, complex, and works better as a foil for Peter if everything Norman does is intentional bc he symbolizes great power and no responsibility.

Exactly! Man if nobody else got me I know tumblr user spider-xan got me can I get an amen. It’s also frustrating because a lot of the scenes where people can argue it’s good Norman shining through are scenes where… Norman is being manipulative? Like as you said, the final scene where Norman is just trying to gain sympathy long enough to kill Peter as well as the scene where Harry and Norman talk near the end. Norman only shows Harry that affection once Harry has done something for him and given him information he considers useful. I’ve talked about this at length before but none of that shit is actually redeeming. I guess it speaks to Norman as a character that he manipulates so well he successfully manipulated half the audience.

It was also fucking wild to live in the post NWH world in which people would make jokes about Harry’s negative traits making it valid for Norman to clearly dislike and neglect him even if you’re gonna deny he abuses Harry. (Which. He abuses Harry. I’m not ever gonna say he doesn’t.) as if very explicitly Norman is not the origin for all the traits people don’t like in Harry.

[us3rn4m3n0tf0und1170]

Messenger lore!!

so I’ve been exploring with the concept of the Messenger(s), who are sorta villains in The Amazing Arachnid. What I’m thinking so far is instead of it being one person is having it be a society of people. Just spilling ideas here, none of this is cannon yet:

•founded during the civil war as a way for people to secretly deliver messages/items between either side of conflict or outside of conflict, though they rose to popularity during WWII and disappeared afterwards

•their main calling card are these circular bombs (idea from Toby Maguire’s SpiderMan mainly Green Goblin) that when a button is pressed they release a colored gas that can knock out/drug victims (without killing them)

•Colors work like code names either that or rankings

•technically not villains, not heroes at all either

•the group itself is outside of government radar, which means once you’re in the society you’re in until you die

•everyone wears gas masks, other than that dress how you please

I’m open to ideas!! If you guys have any tips or suggestions I can do to make the Messenger Society better then let me know :DD

concept drawing: