#suspicion abounds

[cultivating-wildflowers]

*squinting at the new packaging and altered flavors of my cats’ food* what corners did we cut for this?

[why-bless-your-heart]

A movie I would watch/novel I would read

Pope dies suddenly

During the conclave a cardinal notices that some of the circumstances seem suspicious

Could it have been one of his fellow cardinals? Suspicions abound. (Each of the suspects is a caricature of some ‘flavor’ of Catholicism)

Oh no it was actually somebody who wanted to kill ALL THE CARDINALS WHILE THEY’RE IN ONE SPOT genre-switch

The day is saved and some random priest from the middle of nowhere is elected pope. the end.

[spiffysoultarot]

What do you need to know? Pick a troll:

Pile 1: wheel, ten pent, 5 wands, empress. Whoa, talk about good fortune coming your way! We have both benefics represented here with the wheel (Jupiter) and empress (Venus). Something you once thought was totally out of the realm of possibility for yourself could actually be working out… but not without a fight. It is worth fighting for. It’s not underhanded, nasty, manipulative type fighting— it’s more like a healthy competition that makes you want to get better or just be a better person in general. I’m getting like an auto ski rope that you grab onto to get to the top of the ski hill— it’s like that, you just have to hold on tight and maintain your balance of self-love and nurturing to get there (financial abundance awaits at the top💵). Maintain a comfortable pace— don’t stand on your tippy toes all the time trying to be extra bc that’s not sustainable— know your limits/talents. Honor your natural workflow. Overall very positive— good for you, pile 1!

Pile 2: temperance, 8 swords, queen pent, knight cups (R). This one was kind of all over the place, 8 of swords always brings chaos and murkiness to readings for me. Multiple things here so bear with me. I got that someone here may have been very patient in achieving a material goal but are now feeling trapped or extremely emotionally unfulfilled or doubting if they even deserve it— like what are you so sad about? You got it. Idk, lol, I’m sorry if that’s blunt. But also— YES you deserve it!! Like maybe the material is balanced but now your mental/emotional state is out of whack. Someone may have burned you and made you doubt your judgement.“Never trust a salesman.” Keep him blocked, girl. Another thing was a successful self-made person uncovering material/physical proof that confirmed their suspicions someone was lowkey a goldigger. Then feeling hopeless as if they will never find someone who can match them in all the ways they desire. This sucks and I’m sorry that happened— you can move on a bit wiser now but also do you even really need anyone? Or do you just think you do bc you “should”? Something to ponder on bc the Queen and temperance upright are pretty balanced on their own. Animals are great companions. 🐈

Pile 3: star, ten of wands, judgement (R), 8 cups/10 pent (R). Finally seeing your own skills/strengths/talents and embracing them which will lead to positive attention, a win, recognition! ⭐️Possibly online. ORANGE & PURPLE. With the purple, yall are intuitive af and possibly saw it as a burden before but are now embracing your natural talents without shame. You’re not afraid to be seen. You’ve walked away from that which no longer serves you and certainly didn’t bring financial fulfillment. Wishes are granted here and new opportunities are abound— but they could be draining and will require hard work but I don’t see that being a problem for this pile at all. This win/oppurtunity is a long time coming. Leaving the status quo behind, finally stopping trying to fit your square self into this circular peg of typical life that you never fit into and probably never will. You’re here to help lead the way for others by simply being yourself. This new path has its own challenges but at least you’re doing something authentic, feeling inspired and emotionally fulfilled. In living authentically, you’re actually inspiring others to do the same. Keep doing you pile 3– you rock, and it looks good on you.

[bambi-kinos]

I don't know much about Brian Epstein other than that he was the manager and that he was gay. Do you think it made a difference for John and Paul? Better or worse? He must have known about the two of them, don't you think? This might be the craziest ask but do you think George and Ringo had "bisexual experiences" with John and or Paul too apart from that circel jerk?

A paragraph summary: Brian Epstein was a gay Jewish man born in a family established in Liverpool. He faced a lot of anti-Semitic prejudice as a child and an adult which affected his sense of self profoundly and riddled him with self doubt. He was very intelligent and astute businessman who was close to his mother, father, and younger brother Clive. He was one of those aimless people who wandered through life, mastering skills and solving problems quickly and then becoming bored once there was nothing left to do. He attended RADA, served briefly in the British army (there was still a draft at the time), and then went home to manage the family business as his father got older. He built up the Epsteins' furniture business and then moved on to the family record shop in Liverpool proper. Brian was good at keeping his ear to the ground regarding trends and realized teen clients with pocket money were his new target audience. He caught wind of The Beatles through them (the bugs had recorded a record in Germany with another musician and tried promoting it during their gigs at The Cavern, leading their fans to NEMS, Brian's record shop.) He observed them at The Cavern and eventually approached them to be their manager.

The rest as they say is history. The Beatles as a group, a sound, and an image were built and promoted by Brian Epstein. He was the one who believed in them from the start and he is the reason why we know and love them today.

When it comes to John and Paul and their specific mess: it is reasonable to assume that they clocked Brian pretty quickly and decided to go with him anyway. I can speculate that Brian paid people off if suspicion arose and that he shielded them in other ways like the written room assignments. (John and Paul did not actually room together that often on paper though the reality was probably very different.) I don't know if Brian had to go so far as to arrange "beards" or anything, Cynthia and Jane functioned well in that role and then John and Paul both have sincere sexual interest in women. It's reasonable to think Brian realized what John and Paul were to each other early on but the specifics are completely up to interpretation and speculation. It's a big opaque wall that we can project whatever we want onto.

Brian is still very opaque in many ways. Lots of rumors about him abound, some good and some bad. It's impossible to know what is true and what is not aside from Brian's brushes with law enforcement and what has been reported about him by The Beatles themselves. I think he loved his boys very much and that he did his utmost to protect them in every way he could.

That is ultimately why The Beatles (John, Paul, George, sort of Pete at the time) decided to go with him. It's hard to say if Brian being gay was a minus or a plus for them but ultimately what drew them to him was that he respected them as performers instead of treating them as money factories. That's what Allen Williams did when he dumped them in Hamburg. Allen did love them but he wouldn't respect them and they kicked him as fast as they could. What separated Brian from their other managers was that he respected their act as a unit and tried to improve their presentation instead of changing their sound or telling them to repress their personalities. He was more interested in refining and polishing and they responded to that.

I guess my take is that the homosexuality thing didn't actually loom that large for them. The boys had enough show biz experience to realize how many gay men were involved in performance arts and that Brian's assets (a good eye for costumery, adaptability, his respect for their hard work and talent) simply outweighed the gay thing. Everything else is unknown and open to projection/interpretation/fanfiction/whatever.

Wrt George and Ringo, I think they had bisexual experiences with John and Paul, yeah. I'm a subscriber to the idea that all four of them had sexual tension with one another. It's another blank space that we can project whatever we want onto it.

Considering John and George did a lot of LSD together I wouldn't be surprised if they had sex while stoned (which would add another layer of Paul's icy refusal to take the LSD until John tricked him with the rooftop thing.)

Ringo is a little bit of an enigma, all the industry gossip online says that he's really just that heterosexual but considering how beautiful Paul is and how close they all are, it's hard to think he didn't at least try out gay sex to see if he liked it or not. George is the most likely candidate for sex with Ringo, not just because "pair the spares" but because George is the only Beatle that Ringo could try out gay sex with and he wouldn't make it weird. Can you imagine John or Paul's flutters in the aftermath of having gay sex with Ringo instead of each other lmao. George is very low maintenance in comparison so I can imagine him and Ringo trying it out just to see and then coming to an amicable agreement after regardless of the outcome. And I've often wondered if Ringo and Paul started hooking up after John died.

I don't know if George or Paul could have made it work in any capacity, casual or serious. I think they were attracted to each other (Paul certainly comes off as wanting to fuck George and Ringo on the DL in the Eye of the Storm photobook) but whether or not either of them could have actually coped with that is a big question mark. I'm not sure they could without a lot of growing up from either of them.

I also think that John's "Greek island" fantasy also included orgies but that's because John is such a horny and jealous guy, putting his three best mates in a single stretch of land where they can't avoid him? You bet he wanted group sex lmao. I'm sure that included Brian to some extent.

Maybe its a good thing that it didn't work out because Paul would gone and burned John's face off over that.

[izvmimi]

cw: pseudocest. implied one-sided love triangle. reader is technically a silva. yandere undertones.

As in every royal family, secrets abound, some out in the open whether by force or by inevitably, like the fact that you may or may not be your father’s child, and that as a result you may not be a true royal, nor a true Silva, and others more well-kept, somehow even more scandalous.

Like the fact that your purported first cousin by murky blood is in love with you.

“Noelle will wonder where I am, Nozel,” you murmur. It’s late evening in Spring, and you’ve come back to the estate on his request for a ‘family meeting.’ By now, the four main Silva children have grown up, Nozel the oldest and head of the family, now in his early 30s and yet to marry, and as such the differences that marked growing up have now resolved. You’ve been raised in and out of their home due to your father’s inability to parent without the help of a madam, and his unwillingness to marry someone that wasn’t your mother, so naturally, you found your way back here with Noelle. Emotional support never hurts, and you love your cousin dearly. 

However, this part of any interaction with this - your - family is hardest to navigate - the fact that Nozel has wanted you for many years, and now has become bold enough to pressure you to marry him.

“But you agree that it looks bad that I’ve remained single all this time,” Nozel states. You look up at him, holding in your desire to roll your eyes before letting out a sigh. The two of you are caught up in a hallway, far from the main wing where dinner had been served, far from prying eyes. You often end up like this these days, him far too deep into your space, his face leaned into yours, that stupid front facing braid close enough that it practically grazes your nose.

“Not as bad as marrying your first cousin,” you remind him.

He rolls his eyes.

“Everyone knows that that cannot possibly be true.” He steps back, and crosses his arm. “Whatever Uncle insisted on is quite silly, I don’t understand why he was so desperate to refuse to admit that you are but his stepdaughter. We would not have treated you any differently-” he starts, but you scoff, covering your mouth with your handkerchief.

“You failed to treat your actual sister well and you dare project the illusion of fairness?”

Nozel’s pale violet eyes narrow, and you look away. You don’t know if you’ll ever stand up to him - it’s been possibly 15 years since the first time you were brought into the Silva family, holding your father’s hand at the doorstep. Nozel had looked at you with so much contempt, that your 8 year old self wondered if you were dirty or particularly hideous, while Noelle had immediately taken your hand, grin wide before she was practically dragged away by her siblings. What irony is it today that even if he’s spared you today, you can still remember him forcing your chin steady and kissing you just weeks ago, confirming your long-held suspicions that he was really crazy enough to do it. 

To try to own you completely. 

“Do you have better options, ___?” he asks. 

You’re not too old to find a suitor, even if the search has not started for you, but you know that’s not what he means. You would be hard pressed to find a man of similar rank, intelligence, beauty or magic ability, and the two of you are well aware of this fact. Even if someone were to object to your union on the basis of close parentage, your father cannot stop him from beyond the grave, and the kingdom may speak, but ultimately no one could truly prevent your union.

Except you, technically, but at times, you wonder if you even really have a choice.

“I don’t, but I would like to continue to have some time to follow my dreams.”

Nozel offers you a small smile, his hand finding its way onto your right cheek and caressing it. “I’m quite delighted you have your own dreams.” 

You don’t like the way he says that, and as his hand falls gently from your cheek to his side, you understand that the implication is that of a father entertained by his child’s dream of becoming a dolphin. Ridiculous. 

“If you are concerned about Noelle’s whereabouts, I’ll leave you to go find her,” he says, now letting his hands rest behind him, and changing the subject. Where he’s touched you is still asymmetrically warm, as though you can feel all 5 fingers, as though he’s marked you as his. You remember braiding Noelle’s hair in between your legs at age 14, and her 11, and him appearing to watch the two of you for far too long. You’d thought the psychological protective barrier you had around “talentless” Noelle is what repelled Solid and Nebra whenever you came around and fascinated Nozel, but there was something else entirely. 

As Nozel leaves you to ponder this not-quite marriage proposal, you shudder. You take a few steps down the hallway to find the banquet room, then slowly find yourself sinking to the ground.

Your legs are shaking, not from fear per se, not from desire either (although logically it’s not unfathomable that you could ever grow to like or even love him) but out of a sheer understanding that your life could so easily begin and end with him in just a few short years. 

Your time with the Black Bulls may have spoiled you these last several years, offering you freedom you’ve never had with the Silva family. It’s helped both you and Noelle grow, and while Noelle is no longer under the thumb of her siblings due to her immense power and indomitable spirit, you are simply not as strong as her, nor do you have the advantage of legitimate birth into royalty no matter how much your father tried to give it to you out of respect and adoration of your mother. 

You are far more at Nozel’s mercy than you would like to be. To think all these years you spent protecting that little girl, only to find out that she was far more safe than you’d ever be.

Do you have better options?

On paper, no, not a chance in hell. In your heart, possibly. 

Before that smile can come to mind, you shake it out of your head and scramble to your feet, Noelle rushing down to find you. 

“Gosh, where the hell have you been? We need to leave this place, I don’t even know why I bothered coming,” she starts. It was a show of kindness, but she’s naturally lost interest. Her purple eyes scan to you a little too long, and you force a smile to dispel your unrest. She cannot see it. You’ve hidden the way he looks at you for this many years, no need to reveal everything now. 

You don’t want to spend any time explaining your predicament, not to her, not to the Black Bulls. 

Not to…

“Asta was hoping we’d meet up with him and Luck and Magna in an hour. What do you think?” she asks. Then quickly, her face turns red and she rephrases herself, as she’s done for years. “Not that it matters that much, you know. I don’t care what he thinks at all! I’m actually considering not going.”

You smile. 

“Let’s go.”

You take her hand, and you are young kids again, and like a child, dirty laundry ceases to be your responsibility.

For now.

[melrosing]

MBO Robert's Rebellion: Season 2 Episode 2

what the fuck is this: it's me drafting a fake robert's rebellion tv show through a series of bullet points. there will be two seasons of ten episodes each

i figured actually this one is basically done so im posting it. the rest should come prettyyyy quickly now, it's just a couple story strains where i'm making the last few edits to get everything in across the ten eps. anyway this 'season' is probably a wholeass exercise for me in trying to make sense of Rhaegar Targaryen so welcome, pls come along for the ride.

SEASON ONE: Episode 1, Episode 2, Episode 3, Episode 4, Episode 5, Episode 6, Episode 7, Episode 8, Episode 9, Episode 10

SEASON TWO: Episode 1, Episode 2, Episode 3

title for this one: rhaegar breaks everything

Lyanna wakes in her tent to the sound a baby’s desperate screams. Perplexed, she dresses hurriedly and saddles her horse, riding off at pace to where she thinks they seem to come from. She grows more frustrated the further she rides, never seeming to get any closer. Suddenly, she hears a voice scream her name - it’s Ned’s. She sends her horse to a gallop, and reaches a familiar clearing: she met Rhaegar here a year ago, during the tourney of Harrenhal. Distracted, Lyanna regards the place a moment in silence, then reaches inside her cloak to find the flower crown Rhaegar gave her back then. It’s dried out now. A voice whispers ‘Lyanna’ more quietly, and Lyanna, alarmed, turns to see Rhaegar, leading a horse of his own. She asks if he heard a child; Rhaegar says he didn’t. Lyanna says she’d thought she’d heard Ned too, but he’s in the Vale. She supposes she must’ve been dreaming. Rhaegar asks if she dreams often, Lyanna says she dreams sometimes. Rhaegar asks of what, Lyanna says of this place, of blue roses, and of - she looks at him, stops. But Rhaegar knows already. He says, ‘I dream, too.’

Opening creds

Brandon riding for the Stark camp with Edmure, who chatters beside him about how he’s never ridden this far before. They meet Benjen at the outpost, who looks anxious; Brandon asks what the matter is, Benjen tells him it’s Lyanna. Together, they ride hard for camp

Ned and Robert at the Eyrie. Robert is bouncing a toddler in his lap, whilst Ned looks miserable. Robert makes reference to Brandon’s wedding, says Ned might have gone; Ned replies that he doubts Brandon will miss him. Rickard neither for that matter - Ned suspects he had always favoured his brothers. Robert laughs at that, assuring Ned that he’s the best of them - but for a man unbetrothed he could afford to have a little more fun. Ned says sceptically that betrothal has never kept Robert from fun, and Robert laughs, making the toddler (Mya) in his lap laugh too. Robert laughs the harder

Brandon and Edmure meet Rickard in the woods, searching for Lyanna. Rickard tells them that he and Lyanna had fought, and he suspects Lyanna may be sulking somewhere - but these woods are too dangerous for that, and she must be found. The rumours are already abound, too, that she is wild and loose, and he fears for their betrothal if Robert were to find out about this. He rides off, vexed 

Benjen asks Brandon if everything will be alright; Brandon isn’t sure, says he suspects Rickard is more worried than he’s letting on  

Jaime guarding Rhaella in the godswood; he has seen little of her since he took up his post, and notices bruises about her neck - the only part of her uncovered. Rhaella tells Jaime she remembers his mother, talks fondly about her as though talking to herself. She was such a child: giggled a lot, had plenty of daydreams, a sweet girl in her way, before she became lofty Lady Lannister. Jaime isn’t really listening, distracted by her injuries - he asks if she’s alright. Rhaella’s face clouds over; she tells Jaime it’s nothing, and speaks no more

Cut to Aerys in the throne room. Where is his goddamn son??? Rhaegar has not been seen for several nights. Aerys airs the suspicion that Rhaegar rides for Casterly Rock to plot against him with Tywin Lannister. Varys says he shudders to think… but it is said that Rhaegar did not take the Goldroad. Aerys wonders if Jaime Lannister knows something. Gerold Hightower says he’s sure the boy knows nothing. Varys says they can’t know that. Either way - Hightower changing the subject - for all his strength, Rhaegar is vulnerable when riding alone, and should be found. He says he will send two of his own men to find the Prince. Arthur Dayne knows him well, and will doubtless find him in good time 

Elia alone in her rooms, with her children playing at her feet. Rhaenys asks where father is; Elia, feeling too tired to comfort her daughter, simply tells her she doesn’t know. Rhaenys, weepy now, asks if he’s coming back. Elia says she doesn’t know that either. Rhaenys starts to cry, and Elia, looking dead inside, does nothing for several moments before reaching down to pick her up and comfort her. She tells Rhaenys about Dorne, says if father can run away then so can they. They’ll go to the Water Gardens, and Rhaenys can play with her cousin Arianne. Rhaenys asks if father will be sad if they go. Elia says no, she doesn’t think he’d be sad at all

Arthur Dayne in the WST, packing bags. Jaime watches on, asks where he is going. Arthur says to find the Prince. Jaime says he’ll go with him, Arthur says no. Jaime tries to argue, Arthur remains steadfast. Upset, Jaime says that he knows Arthur regrets knighting him, thinks it was a mistake to ever place him in the KG to begin with. Arthur says that isn’t so, it is simply that the King needs him here. For what?? Jaime says the King hates him. Arthur does not deny it, but states simply that there will come a time when the King will have great need of him. Jaime stares at him, perplexed. Ser Gerold Hightower walks in, and says he has an errand for Arthur, yet is startled to see Arthur is packing already. Jaime even more perplexed 

Ned running errands for Jon Arryn in a small town in the Vale. In a tavern, he attracts the notice of a black-haired girl, who flirts with him. Ned is uncomfortable, buts feels some attraction himself. She says she’s noticed him before with his friend, but she’s always liked Ned better. Ned feels himself being drawn in, doesn’t altogether like it - but likes it a little. The girl suggests they go somewhere quieter, and Ned tentatively agrees. As he follows her to the back rooms, she kisses him. Ned is shocked despite himself, and just as they reach the door he declines after all and turns back, embarrassed

Searching the woods for Lyanna. Benjen finds her dried flower crown on the forest floor where she had been the night previous, and runs to deliver it to his father and brother. Rickard and Brandon look at it horrified, till a local arrives with guards to tell them what he saw: Rhaegar rode past their village last night, and he had a girl with him. Rickard in crisis mode: he orders Benjen to return North to hold Winterfell. Benjen tells his father he doesn’t want to leave; he wants to find his sister. Brandon tells him there must always be a Stark in Winterfell (doesn’t explain why there wasn’t one this whole time but I digress), and Rickard tells him that they will return in good time - but not without Lyanna

Cat and Lysa waiting on the parapets for Brandon. Cat wonders why Lysa seems in such a good mood today, and asks her - but Lysa won’t reveal, hums smugly to herself

Suddenly they see Edmure on the horizon, but there’s no sign of Brandon??? The sisters race to the gates and find their father is there already. Edmure, both panicked and confused, tells their father that Brandon has ridden for KL - wtf???

Ned returns to the Eyrie, is told Jon Arryn wants him urgently. Ned bizarrely feels like he’s in trouble, enters Jon Arryn’s solar nervously - finds Robert pacing in rage, and Jon looking sorrowful. There’s been raven etc

Rhaegar and Lyanna riding together. Rhaegar is very quiet, and Lyanna doesn’t quite know where she’s following him to - but follows nonetheless. She asks lots of questions, doesn’t get many clear answers, till Rhaegar reveals he believes they were meant to meet that day at Harrenhal. Had she felt it, too? Lyanna frowns, intrigued, but a little frightened, too. Perhaps she had felt that, too. Rhaegar looks at her, knowingly

[nessacousland]

can i ask what was ur problem with treviso? i actually found treviso and the crows to be the most interesting faction out of all of them so maybe im just biased LOL

Okay, full disclosure: I was on vacation and didn’t get to play Veilguard until the 8th of November. Couldn’t take the potential spoilers everywhere, so I've been cramming these past few days to finish the game asap (I still did every side quest, had all factions at max strength and got the “best” ending etc. but didn’t do every chests/stats puzzle). By the time the Treviso questline concluded, I'd been fully marinating in the sauce of all the other criminally stupid quests, is what I’m trying to say, and Treviso was emblematic of every problem I already had with this game. It was my breaking point.

To start with, the questline is offensively generic and an actual insult to the players’ intellect. Painfully linear, cartoon villains abound and nothing of any substance was ever said during its run.

The moment Caterina told us about Lucanis’ non-death, I called Illario being the traitor. There were no clever misdirects, there were no other leads, nope, they showed us his hand *immediately*. Grandma First Talon of the murder guild has a clear favorite and didn’t tell the ‘spare’ heir about her suspicions? Yeah, okay. Repeat FAMILY as often as you want, you piss-poor Godfather knockoff of a questline, I ain't buying.

So, from the start, all tension is gone, I'm just sitting there waiting for the rest of these “capable” assassins who “rule Antiva from the shadows” to catch on to this incredibly obvious plot twist. Meanwhile, the quests had absolutely nothing interesting to say - about the Crows or Treviso. The first bad guy was, predictably, an evil evil Venatori, super more evil than the evil evil Venatori you've seen before, guys, she literally BATHES IN BLOOD. Omg, right? 🙄 (I found Tevinter infinitely more compelling when their entire ruling class were power-hungry tyrants out of self-interest instead of being hit over the head with the mustache-twirling villain/crazed cultist stick).

Mr. “totally not the traitor” kills Zara before she can tell us anything of substance, she dies,clearly shocked, calling him “Amatus”...AND NO ONE CATCHES ON. You can have Neve on the team, Bellara regularly reads Tevinter serials (the whole team has a fucking book club in the middle of an apocalypse), you can play a freaking Shadow Dragon Rook, but nah, nothing. We don’t even get to ask “Uh, what was that?”. Instead, we get to sit through more pointless missives/quests while the ever capable Crows are totally investigating the traitor.

Now, you could argue that the “Amatus” was a reward to tip off those of us who’ve played the previous games and know what the term means. But with a plot this threadbare and obvious…did the writers think they’re Agatha Christie here? Did they really think I was at the edge of my seat, desperate to find out “whodunit” and grateful for any crumbs thrown my way?

Well, anyway, we are told a million times over that super charming (where?) Illario is just “like that” every time he acts super freaking suspicious. (The funeral thing with Caterina's ashes was especially funny.)

You'd think those instances would start to add up and prompt someone - anyone - to start using their brains (don't we have a goddamn detective on our team?!), but NOPE. We have to corpse-whisper to progress this questline. One of the biggest ass-pulls they've introduced via this game in general, in my opinion (is this Forbidden Realms and we just unlocked the Speak with the Dead spell?) - and it acts as the deus ex machina here to finally give us a clue. Wow, thanks.

The entire sequence of Lucanis confronting Illario in front of the assembled mafia felt like something out of an Antivan play. So goddamn goofy. I thought that vibe was charming in Josephine's romance quest - Antivans live for the drama - but they wanted us to take this moment seriously. This is Lucanis confronting his “all he has left” (don't get me started on the Fade sequence - apparently we the players can’t grasp anyone's motivations without having them spelled out for us over and over again) for putting him through hell and changing his entire being forever. Should I be laughing right now?

To make matters worse,we're told that the Crows are the perfect killers who never leave a contract unfinished - and then Lucanis spares Illario because the humiliation is the biggest punishment??? Like, I'm fine with him faltering here, that’s human. But this should have had consequences. This is the murder guild we're talking about here. Lucanis’ parents were literally killed in a different house’s coup attempt. He was just made the head mobster, immediately showed weakness in front of the entire mafia and everything is just dandy fine??? Because FAMILY?

Another personal gripe with this is that - as always - Rook had zero agency. No matter what you do, Lucanis will forgive or spare Illario. Imagine if we had the option to convince him to kill him instead. Imagine the resulting resentment tainting our bond with him and having us actively engage with fixing or breaking it. Imagine us going along with his mercy but hashing out the painful consequences for his house with him. But that’s not the game Veilguard is.

Anyway, the quest then becomes even more ridiculous. We've long learned that a human traitor helped the Antaam claim Treviso overnight. Someone with great knowledge of the city and the necessary power to make it happen. Gee, I'm sure the human GOVERNOR regularly hanging out in the Crow headquarters or the market bitching about the Crows’ interference 24/7 - the ONLY town official we get to see - had nothing to do with it. Five scarves fluttered in shock out of five, great job, guys.

The Butcher thing was just…weird. Like, we get to hear and build him up as this totally different antaam leader, cruel but cunning and calculating, someone who will be difficult to dethrone. Only for him to show up out of nowhere and serve no other purpose than to move the main plot forward asap and die. Lol, thanks for your service, I guess.

Then Ivenci, for no fucking reason, decides that they, like any good cartoon villain, should reveal themselves to us just in order to gloat. Um, why don’t they simply order the Antaam to murder us dead right then and there? If Rook and their plucky team of friends are too powerful for that, why haven’t we taken Treviso by force already? But nah, lol, our plot armor doesn’t have any cracks yet, so they literally tell us to go away and try to disturb the gods’ plans, because those guys will totally kill us for them.

Now, we wait again. Excuse me, isn’t this a questline about assassins? Why aren’t we trying to, y'know, assassinate Ivenci? Cut off the snakes's head, how often have we heard this phrase otherwise? Nah, let's wait till we get another letter that shit is going down that the Crows totally didn’t anticipate and THEN let's confront them. (Ofc, the Crows’ investigation of the qamek stalled forever. Cause they’re incompetent.)

But the thing that really broke me…we KNOW Ivenci stole a bunch of special qamek. We run at them THROUGH A GREEN POISON CLOUD. And my Rooks's just like “Huhhh? Is something possibly messing with my mind right now?”. YOU STUPID POS.

And then, ofc, we end the questline and Jacobus pops outta nowhere to spare Ivenci because a good pirate never steals and a good assassin never kills, I guess. Jacobus founds his new house to basically become a big mafia family for orphans like him which everyone is super proud of, because, if the previous installments of the game have taught us anything, it's that the Crows are deeply concerned with the well-being of orphans. Whoop dee doo, the end.

Okay, more notes. It’s been mentioned plenty already that this game has completely neutered the Crows and turned them into edgy found family freedom fighters. Personally, I'm not okay with the explanation that this is simply a different house than House Arainai. Because what the actual fuck, game. Why is Ivenci the bad guy when they're literally right about everything?! Where's my option to agree with them that a fucking murder mafia shouldn’t be the ruling force of a town, let alone the entire country? Why is the municipal government the enemy while my non-Crow Rook keeps shouting “Viva the Crows”??? Are you really telling me that the Crows are the good guy mafia and House Arainai was the bad outlier? Is that what this is?

Look, I'm fine with allying with the Crows if that’s what necessity dictates. We're trying to stop the SUPER BLIGHT here. But don’t sugarcoat that this is us joining forces with the mob. The way Veilguard presents them makes me cringe cause they're basically just leather-clad incompetent fools larping as birds. Show us the reality of this alliance. Get into the nitty-gritty. Make this world feel real. God.

I *wanted* to like this questline. Out of every country in Northern Thedas, I've always been most interested in Antiva. The whole medievalesque guilds system and merchant princes, the mediterranean romance and drama, pirates and Crows, the snazzy outfits and Spanish accents, god, normally, I'm eating that shit UP. I didn’t even think twice about which city to save. Partially because Minrathous was better fortified and Venatori seemed like the lesser evil vs. blighted water, of course, but mostly because Treviso is absolutely gorgeous and Zevran and Josephine instilled a lot of love for Antiva in me that I just don’t feel for Tevinter. I also thought that the setup was very interesting - professional assassins turned into freedom fighters of their occupied turf. And it *would* have been if they had let them remain, y'know, the actual murder mafia they always were.

But aside from my gripes about the Crows’ portrayal, the entire questline was just a total nothing burger. This is the first time ever that we're actually in Antiva, our introduction, so to speak, and what do we learn about the place? That there’s strife and betrayal among the Crows? Um, yeah, Zevran covered that fifteen years ago. There’s nothing new whatsoever. Imagine if our primary goal had actually been to help the Crows free Treviso. That we're working to loosen the Butcher's grasp on the town via strategic assassinations (i.e. actual Crow missions) that also introduce us to Treviso's people/Antivan culture (taking out someone during a theatre play, for example! The drama!), the internal politics of the Merchant princes and the municipal government's struggle to keep this occupied city from imploding. Imagine us getting caught up in this web of intrigue as we get closer and closer to the Butcher and then suddenly, we're being played. And only *then* do we start to suspect a traitor among the Crows’ ranks and the whole thing unravels. Spitballing even further, why repeat the Crow/Venatori romance in a random side quest with random people? Why not have Zara and Illario be actually in love, but he kills her for his ambition anyway? And instead of taking responsibility for his actions, he blames Lucanis for forcing his hand? Or maybe, they both thought they were playing the other and as another power hungry asshole, Zara almost respects Illario for the hussle as she dies? *Some* messiness and drama? (Cause Varric’s initial narration sequence made Zara seem like this blood-soaked femme fatale but the actual narrative gave zero fucks about that vibe. Discount Countess Bathory wannabe).

That might just be what I would have wanted and nobody else, but I still maintain that anything would have been better than this cookie-cutter, baby’s first mafia story that is beat for beat exactly what you'd expect and have seen before.

Well, this was a long rant. I don’t intend to make a habit of shitting on things others enjoy on here, but my emotions are still running high after finishing the game yesterday and you did ask. Sorry.

[enigmatist17]

Griffon Rock - Part 1

---

Doc Greene was a man who liked to think he was hardly surprised by anything in this town, able to take most things in stride, emergencies or otherwise. Science was as dangerous as it was marvelous, and on an island where scientists and their projects abounded, it was hard not to expect something to go wrong.

Admittedly, aliens were the one thing he couldn't count on.

He hadn't been terribly surprised to find that the rescue vehicles had been more than meets the eye, and that excitement at becoming friends with such beings had never faded. He'd spent far too much time ensuring the Malto's and their children would have a suitable place with plenty of room to stay for their visit, even Blades teasing the scientist that he was more excited than the copter himself had ever been. So when he finally emerged from his lab after carefully tending to a project over the last day and a half, coffee in one hand and phone in the other as he watched a video Frankie had sent him, he wasn't expecting anything. He knew the family had arrived and were most likely in their converted cabins by now, and smiled at seeing her and Cody inside Chase, most likely having volunteered to show them around and chat with new bots.

Ezra has to do a double-take when he passes by someone he definitely had no prior knowledge about, who is currently holding Dither in their cupped hands, eyeing the toast the bot held out in suspicion. The Cybertronian appeared to be some sort of tri-colored jet with massive wings, the long canons on each arm alerting the doctor that this mech was definitely some sort of warrior, though on what side he couldn't tell. Optimus had long protected Griffin Rock, so as alarming as the weaponry was, caution was replaced with curiosity as he approached the Cybertronian.

"Hello there!" Blue optics flick over to focus on the scientist, Ezra giving a wave as he smiled. "I see you've met Dither!"

"Dither?" If it was only a few octaves lower, the bot in front of him could have matched Heatwave's voice, and the scientist idly wonders if they were alike in more than just voice similarity. Ezra's train of thought is broken when the massive bot moves to kneel down in front of him, blue optics studying the human with equal suspicion and curiosity. Despite being much taller and heavier, the jet seemed almost...nervous being within touching range, wings fluttering in discomfort as they carefully released Dither a few feet away from Doc. "This is Dither?"

"Yes, he helps me with my lab work." The jet tilted their helm at that, some sort of recognition flashing in his optics before fading away in the same breath.

"Lab? I used to have a lab." The bot frowned, eyeing Doc's lab with a series of chirps. "Much bigger, this planet's buildings are so...small."

"Well, I suppose that has something to do with us being small." Ezra gently herded Dither to go back inside, clicking the comlink in his pocket as he did so. "Have you been here long?"

"Yes. No? Yes." The jet looked at him with an intensity that made Doc nervous, reaching out to gently grasp the scientist and lift him up to optic level. The touch was so gentle Ezra's coffee barely moved around in his mug, and he kept a smile despite the talons around his waist. "What year is it?"

"2024." The frown on the jet's face deepened as they held Ezra, the pressure around his midsection surprisingly light as he listened to the bot ramble. "A long time, too long, too short? It all blurs together, I can't see it all anymore. Too much time lost, stolen, stolen for a cause that left me behind."

"Who left you behind?" Ezra carefully patted the hand holding him, and internally winced when it was clear the bot forgot he'd been holding him, moving their hand so Doc could sit on their palm as he quickly changed the subject. "How very kind of you...what's your name?"

"Name? Name name name...designation. Starscream is my designation." While he may not have known too many Cybertronians personally, Ezra knew when someone wasn't quite in control of their mind, carefully patting Starscream's palm. "What is yours?"

"My name is Ezra, but you can also call me Doc. It is a pleasure to meet you, Starscream, and what a wonderful designation by the way!" The jet looked at him before a small smile crossed his face, wings fluttering at the flattery. "Did you come to Griffin Rock for vacation?"

"What's vacation?" Starscream raised an optic ridge.

"Um..time off? A time to relax and leave your usual schedule and work behind, recharging the battery so to speak. Have you never had time like that before my friend?"

"...I don't know." The clear confusion in Starscream's voice made Doc's heart ache, the jet shaking his helm as he looked at the human.

"Well, in that case, we'll just have to make sure you have a great one then, hm?" The seeker's wings fluttered again as Doc got to his feet, stabilizing himself when Starscream gently curled his talons around the scientist. "Would you like to go for a flight around the island? While it's not a helicopter tour, I believe I can make a sufficient guide."

"Flight?" The gleam in Starscream's optics is all the warning Ezra had before the world seemed to warp, and within the blink of an eye, he was sitting inside the cockpit of an F-22 Raptor hovering above his lab.

The coffee in his cup hadn't sloshed around in the slightest.

"That was a fantastic experience!" Ezra laughed as Starscream moved forward, cockpit angled to show the town down below. "I will never comprehend how you all can do that, the sheer concentration on how to keep my body from becoming stuck within your transformation sequence must be immense!" While he rambled on, Starscream began to make a large and slow arc around the island; the occasional chirp or click was his only response to the human when he started to point out various areas and explain their purposes. It's not the first island Starscream had seen ever since the infamous crash all those cycles ago, but actually having time to look at one without Megatron ready to punish him for another failed raid please he was so sorry ple-

"Starscream? Are you alright?" Ezra would have mourned his favorite mug falling from his hold and down into the forest below, if he wasn't currently clinging to one of Starscream's fingers. He had been telling Starscream about Blossom Vale when the jet had suddenly transformed, his wings quivering and eyes unfocused as they hovered in place. It had taken a lot of willpower to prevent himself from letting out a yelp, voice wavering but otherwise calm as he waited for the Cybertronian to respond to him.

"Mr. Starscream?" A blur of red suddenly appeared in the doctor's peripheral, some sort of drone hovering within Starscream's unfocused gaze. "What are you doing all the way up here?"

"Twitch?" The older bot's voice was laced with static, blue optics cycling on and off as the drone transformed into the smallest Cybertronian Ezra had ever seen. "Where did you come from?"

"That house down there." Twitch pointed to the place Ezra and a few other townsfolk had set up for them to stay in, drifting a little closer with a smile. "Hashtag says hi."

"I see." The trembles faded from Starscream's plating at that, and optics finally focused on the smaller flyer. "Do you like it? The home?"

"Do we ever! Cody says that a guy named Doc was working really hard on it for all of us, and they even have cave water for us!" The younger grinned, what looked like blades on her back quivering with excitement or nervousness, Ezra couldn't tell. "Bumblebee and Wheeljack even have a space too!"

"That sounds very nice." Twitch's smile grew, if that were even possible, and Starscream carefully lifted his palm to show the scientist. "This is the Doc your Cody spoke of."

"H-Hello there, little one!" Ezra shifted into the clawed fingers when Twitch drifted close with a smile, doing his very best not to look down as Starscream adjusted his grip. "I'm glad to hear that you have enjoyed the living arrangements! Bumblebee was a great help, I think he was more excited about coming here than the rest of you!"

"Oh totally, he wouldn't stop talking about Blades leading up to the trip." She grinned, making sure to keep some distance from the frazzled human. "He thinks he's hiding his crush, but he's really bad about it."

"Crush? I doubt the rescue bot could crush a scout." Starscream frowned, confused when the other two failed to suppress some giggles. "What?"

"Nothing! Come on, why don't you come see the place?" The smaller bot grinned, knowing full well Starscream couldn't refuse as she transformed, doing a little loop-de-loop as the older bot clicked in exasperation before transforming himself. Ezra could feel his blood pressure settling now that he was safely tucked inside the cockpit again, settling back for the short journey as Twitch led the other down and to her family. Dot and Alex were relaxing beside the massive pool Doc had set up, strong enough to at least withstand the weight of Hashtag and Thrash swimming about with their brother and sister. Jawbreaker was sitting on the edge of the pool soaking his pedes, occasionally tossing a ball or pool noodle in to participate, quite content to just bask in the sun. Nightshade was sitting next to Alex with a book, glancing up when Twitch and Starscream transformed and landed, the taller bot carefully setting Doc onto the ground.

"Hello there, sorry for dropping in on you." The scientist looked amused and slightly embarrassed as Twitch took hold of one of his hands to drag him over, at least relieved to be back on terra firma.

"Don't worry about it, it's a pleasure to meet you." Dot stood to shake his free hand, eyeing Starscream warily as Hashtag clambered to get out of the pool. "No running around the pool Hashtag!"

"Sorry Mom!" The Terran forced herself to walk until she was far enough from the edge of the pool before darting over to the seeker, greeting him with a wave. The doctor noticed the way Dot tensed as she watched Hashtag talk to the larger transformer, who, for the most part, seemed content to listen with the occasional nod.

"Why is Starscream with you?" Dot's husband Alex asked curiously after shaking Doc's hand, the three watching Hashtag show Starscream a picture of something, earning a quick but gentle pat to her head.

"He was at my lab, and I offered to give him a tour of the island." The Griffon Rock native explained, watching Jawbreaker join his sister with a nervous smile. "May I ask something?"

"Ask away." Alex nodded, slipping one arm around Dot's waist with a gentle nudge, feeling some of her tension fade at his touch.

"Is he supposed to be here with someone?" Ezra cringed at how awkward he sounded, but wasn't sure how else to ask. "N-Not that I'm implying anything!"

"His trine is supposed to be keeping an eye on him." Dot pulled out her phone with a grumble, texting a number with one hand while leaning into her husband's side. "Did he want anything from you? Ask you anything?"

"Not really, though he seemed to be unaware of how long he's been on the planet, which is how long, exactly?"

"Is that counting the four million-long stasis nap? Since they emerged in 1984, he used to be the second-in-command of the Decepticon army." Alex supplied the answer cheerfully. "Though, the Decepticons really aren't much of a thing anymore, at least on Earth..."

"They left him here, didn't they?" Oh, that's such a terrible thing. "He mentioned something about being left behind, but I don't think it was a conscious effort on his part."

"Starscream is...he went through a lot over the last year and a half, part of this is giving him some new sights." Now both Alex and his wife looked uncomfortable, and Ezra raised his hands in a mock surrender.

"Say no more, I only wish I could have known about the extra additions. However, ill timing hasn't stopped me before, so I'm sure I can come up with something before nightfall." Ezra hummed in thought, putting a hand to his chin. "Tell me, do jets like Starscream require anything in particular regarding sleeping arrangements?"

"Seekers tend to enjoy wide spaces with ready access to the sky." Nightshade chimed in from behind Ezra, the teal bot carefully folding a page in their book and placing it in their subspace. "Do you have a hangar or empty warehouse?"

"We have a few on the island, I can make some calls. You must be Nightshade, correct? Did you enjoy the lab I had built for you?"

"I've only taken a brief look, but it looks quite wonderful." The young bot smiled, tilting his head with a soft hum. "I'll be allowed to spend some time in it tomorrow, Mom and Dad want us to unwind after our long journey."

"Well, if you'd ever like any company, Boulder, Graham, and I would be happy to join you."

"I would very much like that!" Nightshade preened, having already planned a few things to experiment on during their stay on the island full of scientists. It was pretty exciting to be able to walk amongst the human populace without having to hide what they were, a populace that was happy to see them, judging by the many gifts that had been neatly placed inside the cabin.

It was a welcome change after all they'd been through with the Quintessons and Decepticons.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

The Censorship of Books by Virginia Woolf

An essay published in the journal "Nineteenth Century and After" (April 1929) as part of a symposium on censorship.

As the law stands at present, a police magistrate has the right to destroy as obscene any book which he thinks likely to corrupt the mind of any reader who is liable to be corrupted.

If it is advisable to entrust anyone with such power – of which I am doubtful – obviously the time has come when the nature of what is corrupting and thus destroyable must be more clearly defined.

Nor is it difficult to suggest what lines that definition should follow.

There can be no doubt that books fall, in respect of indecency, into two classes.

There are books written, published and sold with the object of causing pleasure or corruption by means of their indecency.

There is no difficulty in finding where they are to be bought, nor in buying them when found.

There are others whose indecency is not the object of the book, but incidental to some other purpose – scientific, social, aesthetic – on the writer’s part.

The police magistrate’s power should be definitely limited to the suppression of books which are sold as pornography to people who seek out and enjoy pornography.

The others should be left alone.

Any man or woman of average intelligence and culture knows the difference between the two kinds of book and has no difficulty in distinguishing one from the other. 

No can any reasonable person doubt, after watching the law as it stands at work, that it causes more harm than it prevents.

The average citizen is nowadays certainly a reader and quite frequently a writer.

In both capacities he is injured, annoyed, and possibly corrupted, by the censorship as exercised at present.

Nothing can be more insulting to his intelligence and exciting to his curiosity than to be told there is a book that he must not read because in the opinion of somebody else it would corrupt him to do so.

As was amply proved last autumn [Woolf is referring to the suppression of Radclyffe Hall’s novel, The Well of Loneliness, in 1928.], prohibition often serves only to stimulate the appetite.

Discussion is roused where there would have been indifference; knowledge is sought where there would have been ignorance.

The vice in question becomes a topic of conversation, and young people are made to think it attractive because it is fashionable and forbidden. 

Even more serious is the effect upon the writer.

The police magistrate's opinion is so incalculable – he lets pass so much that seems noxious and pounces upon so much that seems innocent – that even the writer whose record is hitherto unblemished is uncertain what may or may not be judged obscene, and hesitates in fear and suspicion.

What he is about to write may seem to him perfectly innocent – it may be essential to his book; yet, he has to ask himself, what will the police magistrate say?

And not only what will the police magistrate say, but what will the printer say and what will the publishers say?

For both printer and publisher will be trying, uneasily and anxiously, to anticipate the verdict of the police magistrate and will naturally bring pressure to bear upon the writer to put them beyond the reach of the law.

He will be asked to weaken, to soften, to omit.

Such hesitation and suspense are fatal to freedom of mind, and freedom of mind is essential to good literature.

Moreover, if modern books become so insipid, so blameless, so full of blank spaces and evasions that we cannot read them, we shall be driven to read the classics, where obscenity abounds. 

For these reasons I think it desirable that the law should distinguish clearly between books that are written or sold for pornographic purposes and books whose obscenity is an incidental part of them – between Aristotle’s works as they are sold in the rubber goods shops, that is to say, and Aristotle's works as they are sold in the shops of Messrs Hatchard and Bumpus. [Respectable bookshops in central London].

Source

Virginia Woolf: On Words

[freesidexjunkie]

First Light

I have FINALLY got the first chapter of my Rolan fic ready!! This one is just fluff, so no big tags. Alcohol mention, bittersweet ending.

Word count: 9,129

AO3 Link here

It is a truth universally acknowledged that an archmage in good standing must be in want of an apprentice. That was what awaited Rolan in Baldur’s Gate, he reminded himself. He would happily sit through this night of drunken merriment if it meant they were finally free to continue on in the morning. Well, perhaps not happily, but tolerably. In his opinion, they had already wasted enough time while they cowered in the druid's grove; but Lia and Cal would not allow themselves to be swayed before properly thanking their so-called hero.

“Hells, Rolan. You look far too dour for someone who’s supposed to be celebrating,” his brother said, leaning against a felled log with a drink in hand.

“I’d rather not end up as a drunken fool by the end of the night. I’m sure you’ll already have that taken care of,” Rolan replied. “Besides, I’ll celebrate when there's a real reason to. All any of us accomplished was being the damsels in distress to a crew of adventurers.”

Lia raised her glass to point at him, swaying a bit as she did. “Glowering in the corner all night won't get us to the Gate any faster, Rol. You may as well join us ‘drunken fools.’”

“I bet he wouldn't be so grumpy if a certain person wasn’t still talking to Ikaron,” Cal said, nudging his sister in the side. He nodded his head in the direction of a half-elf woman a little ways off, sharing a drink with one of the refugee guards.

Rolan begrudgingly turned his head to look at Rhiannon, laughing and standing unnecessarily close to the tiefling. Not unnecessarily close, he chided himself; she was free to seek the company of whomever she wished. The rest of the camp certainly was.

“She likes the grumpy ones, doesn’t she?” Lia said, flashing an unendurably knowing grin at Rolan. He didn't deign to reply, only grunting in annoyance and rolling his eyes as he turned his back to the scene.

He certainly had no expectations of Rhiannon seeking his company out. He had assumed when they met that she was nothing but talk and pomp, and had treated her as such. As a result, she likely thought the exact same of him, he imagined; another overconfident wizard who's bark was worse than his pitiful bite. He had done little to suggest otherwise, stewing and grumbling behind the grove’s safe walls while threats abounded outside. A less generous person may have even called it whining – his sister certainly had. But while he sat about worrying and complaining, Rhiannon had acted, clearing the road of goblins and saving them all. Rolan liked to fancy himself more than capable of a little skirmish, but that, it seemed, was the difference between them; where he fancied, she did. 

“You gonna talk to her at any point, or just keep glaring at Ikaron all night?” Cal asked.

Lia snorted from beside Cal. “Please. He’s been staring at her for daaays,” she said, her drunken drawl dragging out the word. “He's just too chicken shit to admit it.”

Rolan’s face grew warm as he started to flush. He lifted his wine to his lips to hide it. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he muttered into the glass.

“Aww, see, Cal? He’s embarrassed,” she continued. “Admit it, Rol. She’s not such a… what did you call her, again?”

“Nothing,” he hissed.

But they remained undaunted. “A ‘meddlesome little goodie two shoes,’ I think,” Cal said.

“Oh, pardon me for being skeptical of a group of mercenary adventurers,” he replied sourly. He surely couldn't be faulted for his suspicions, especially after what Aradin and his crew had done. Most people, after all, were only in it for what they could get; she was merely the unexpected exception. “I am… grateful for their help, and I will be even more grateful in the morning when we can be on our way.”

“Riiight, that’s why you keep sneaking glances at her when you think no one’s looking,” Lia said with a hiccup. “Why don’t you just admit you think she’s -hic- cute?”

Rolan choked on his wine. He spluttered, turning his face to hide the creeping blush. In a voice that he hoped sounded unbothered, he answered, “she’s… tolerable, I suppose. I wouldn't go so far as to call her pretty, but–”

“Who said pretty? Besides you, that is,” Cal said.

“Idiots, both of you,” Rolan hissed again. “Don't you have anything better to do?”

“Mmm, I dunno, Lia,” Cal said, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “He picks an awful lot of fights with her. Most people don’t pick so many fights with someone they have a crush on.”

The word flustered Rolan even more. Crush? Ridiculous.

“Rolan's not most people,” Lia replied. “For him, picking useless arguments with her daily is practically begging her to–”

“Enough!” Rolan shouted. Their teasing was relentless. He looked around to make sure they hadn’t attracted any attention as he coolly straightened his robes. “You are both completely out of line. I assure you, I have no opinion of the woman either way.”

Rather than silencing them, his outrage only added fuel to their snickering fire. “If you say so, Rol,” Cal said. “So, if she came over to talk to us, you'd continue to be totally unbothered, like you clearly are now?”

“Of course,” Rolan answered sharply as he sipped his wine.

“Oh?” A dangerous glint was catching in Lia’s eyes; he saw the wheels turning in her head just a moment too late to stop them. “Let’s test that then! Hey, Rhi–”

Rolan jumped to stop her as she cupped her hands around her mouth, but it was too late; the adventurer was already looking towards them. He let go of Lia’s arm and cursed under his breath as his siblings waved for her to join.

Rhiannon was, of course, all smiles as she excused herself from Ikaron and walked towards them. She was always all smiles; excessively so, it seemed to Rolan. Still, she looked somehow different than he remembered as she bounced over to Lia’s side. Her hunting leathers were abandoned in favor of light summer clothes; and her dark hair flowed in careless waves behind her, instead of tightly braided up and out of the way. All the blood and dirt she usually sported had been scrubbed away for the occasion, and for once, she smelled less like goblin guts and more like… honeysuckle? He was staring; he knew he was, gods dammit all, and he would never hear the end of it.

“Hey Lia. Hi Cal,” she said warmly. With just a glance at him, she added quickly, “Rolan.” She almost sounded nervous; had he given her that poor of an impression? He nodded silently to her in acknowledgment, silently making a note to absolutely throttle his siblings for this later.

Rolan suddenly wished he had prepared a good invisibility spell; with his siblings, he should have expected something like this. Surely everyone was too drunk or distracted to notice if he slipped away? He began to search his mind for any half believable reason to leave, but before he could open his mouth, his siblings flanked him.

“We just wanted to make sure you were enjoying your party. Rolan thought you might be a bit bored over there,” Cal said, clapping his brother on the shoulder. Rolan didn't respond, only clenched his jaw; he considered how bad the collateral damage might be if he were to cast a fireball at his brother right now. He almost thought he saw Rhiannon’s cheeks flush. Gods, was the mere idea of him that abhorrent to her?

“It’s not my party,” she replied, “but it’s nice of you to–”

“Oh, I beg to differ, fearless goblin slayer,” Lia interrupted, throwing an arm around her shoulders. “Alfira’s been trying to write your ballad all evening.”

“What drives a hero like yourself, anyways?” Cal asked, shooting a sideways glance at Rolan. “What do you get out of meddling in our affairs?”

Rhiannon let out a small laugh, running her fingers through her hair as she pushed it back. “Wrong place at the right time? I don't know. It just… needed to be done, I suppose, and we were in a position to do it.”

Cal nodded, as if he was trying to look very serious. “Very admirable. Wouldn't you agree, Rolan?”

Rhiannon answered before Rolan could begin to formulate a reply. “Reckless is more like it, I think,” she said, “and I don't think I could claim it was entirely altruistic. We needed the First Druid and a clear road just as much as anyone else.”

“Regardless, I think we need to share a drink with our savior!” Lia said, wobbling a bit as she raised an open bottle in cheers.

Rhiannon took the bottle from her with one hand and reached to steady Lia with the other. “I think you've had plenty,” she said, gently righting them both. To his surprise, Rolan found himself enjoying the scene - only for a moment, of course. And only at Lia’s foolish behavior, obviously.

But a moment was long enough for Lia’s notice; he was caught, and whatever momentary delight he may have found died under her scheming eyes. “Noooo, you should definitely stay. Rolan’s just about to show off his spells.”

An unspoken agreement passed between his siblings in the next few moments. “Oh, of course,” Cal said, sounding a touch too eager. “Rolan’s been dying to show you his magic touch.”

Rolan glared pointedly at Cal as his brother and sister snickered. Rhiannon was looking at him expectantly from under Lia’s arm, still trying to keep his sister upright as she grinned smugly at him. He tried to regain his composure. “You don’t – I… am sure you have better things to do than…” He trailed off, gesturing a hand and a slight bow of his head in place of any words.

“What’s the matter, Rolan? Performance issues?” Cal whispered loudly.

“Too much wine, Rol? Or is something else distracting you?” Lia asked, far too transparent for Rolan’s liking as she shot a wink at Cal that he prayed to all the gods went unnoticed.

“Oh, for… hush, both of you,” he answered with a scowl, heat crawling up the back of his neck. He was no stranger to his siblings' taunts and teases, and could normally give as good as he got – in private. They weren't likely to drop the topic until he was utterly mortified or Rhiannon was entirely put off from him - or both. Rolan cast half a glance at her before looking quickly away, as if his eyes couldn’t bear the humiliation of seeing her reactions to all this. “You… can stay, of course. If you wish.”

“Oh, she’s staying,” Lia said, half-dragging the woman along with her to sit on a nearby rock. Rhiannon made no objection, only laughing as his sister pulled her along, assuring Lia she “wouldn’t dream of missing it.” Cal stood on the other side of her. All three were now staring expectantly at Rolan - though it was only her gaze he found himself faltering under. He stood still for a moment, trying desperately to remember any spell of the dozens he had taught himself while his sister continued to taunt him. “Well? Get on with it, wiz.”

“I… be patient,” he scolded with a nervous huff, trying to will himself to appear calm. “Have you no respect for showmanship?”

Cal snorted loudly, earning himself a playful swat from Rhiannon before all eyes turned to Rolan. Clearing his throat, Rolan began to move his hands across the sky, fingers deftly tracing intricate patterns into the air in front of him. With a final flourish, a shower of shimmering purple lights flickered to life in front of them. He looked on at his handiwork with a self pleased grin - until he caught sight of Rhiannon. She was leaning forward in her seat, positively enthralled as the shimmer of the spell sparkled against her gray eyes. He was almost transfixed himself, either by her or from the wine in his system as he watched the lights dance across her face. He was so enraptured by the sight that he had barely noticed her gaze drift past the spell onto him; she had caught him openly staring, he realized, as she laughed and looked away.

He cursed himself silently. By the way she fidgeted now in her seat, he had surely made her uncomfortable again. But Cal didn't seem to notice, letting out a low whistle as he leaned back. He looked at Lia over the top of Rhiannon’s head. “Remember when he could barely cast that?”

“They grow up so fast,” she replied, miming as if to wipe a tear from her eye.

Rolan scoffed back at them as he rolled his eyes. “It was you two who insisted on a magic show.”

Rhiannon simply laughed, a warm and friendly sound that made his insides flutter. “Well, I thought it was lovely,” she said. “Very impressive.”

“Lot of fuss for some twinkly lights,” Cal said, waving his hands around in an animated pantomime of spellcasting.

“Of course. I’d never expect a troglodyte such as yourself to appreciate the finer things,” Rolan quipped, trying to appear less amused than he was as his brother clutched at his chest.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Lia looking mischievously at Rhiannon. Whatever unspoken words passed between them made her blush rather furiously as she jumped to her feet. She cleared her throat and let out another nervous laugh. “Well! I’m sure I should get out of your hair. But thank you, really. For including me in your…”

“Oh,” Rolan replied, his face falling serious again. “Of course. I…” He wasn’t sure if he was feeling more relieved or disappointed, only that he found it hard to meet her gaze as she made to leave.

“Actually,” Lia said as she shot up from her seat, still more than a bit wobbly and clinging to Rhiannon’s shoulders, “me and Cal were just leaving.”

Both of her brothers looked at her with a quizzical brow. “We– oh!” Cal said as she kicked at his leg. “Right. Alfira said she needed us for… you know, that thing. The, uh…”

“Lute strings!” Lia finished. “And once she restrings her lute, we were going to help her finish her song, so we’ll be gone for a while. Say, Rhiannon, if you're not busy…?”

Rolan was painfully aware of the ideas forming in Lia’s mind as Rhiannon looked at her, head cocked to the side. “I… not exactly, no. But really, I wouldn't want to impose on–”

“Ah, nonsense!” Cal said as he clapped her lightly on the back, walking past her to grab Lia’s arm. “He doesn't mind. Do you, Rolan?” He didn't wait for a reply, other than the withering glare Rolan shot at him.

“Great, that’s settled then!” Lia said as she slid past them. “He’s not busy, either. And he wouldn't be so cruel as to turn up his nose at your company – would you, Rol?” She stood beside Rhiannon, hands on her shoulders as she flashed her best not-so-innocent eyes at her brother. He wanted to strangle them for this; for trying to embarrass him, and for dragging Rhiannon into their little scheme, to boot. 

Rhiannon gently shrugged her way out of Lia’s grasp and opened her mouth – no doubt to politely decline, he was sure. So much so that he found himself greatly surprised by her answer. “I… wouldn’t mind the company,” she said, folding her hands in front of her. “If you don’t mind, that is.”

He stared at her for a second, wondering if he perhaps had misheard her. Disbelief, then surprise, and something like relief crossed his face in a matter of moments. Before he could respond, Lia spoke. “Great! I’m sure the two of you will have fun,” she said, shooting a covert wink at her brother as she passed.

“Yeah, let him show off for someone else for a change,” Cal added with a grin.

Rolan started, watching them leave with a defeated grimace. “I swear, the two of you are–”

“Play nice, Rolan!” Lia called over her shoulder as the two of them disappeared. Rolan shook his head as he let out a sound somewhere between a nervous sigh and a chuckle. He turned back to Rhiannon, a bit unsure of what to do next; she was still standing in front of him, still clutching the bottle of wine to her chest as she shuffled back and forth on her feet. Was she waiting for him to speak? Did he know what to say, anything to say to her? 

“Wine?” She asked, stiffly sticking her arm out to offer him the bottle.

“Gods, please,” he replied, gratefully taking it and pulling a long swig. He winced against the bite of the cheap drink, no doubt salvaged from some ransacked village, and wiped the remnants from his lips with the back of his hand. “Sorry. About them. They’re…” He shook his head again with a huff. “You don’t have to… if you have somewhere else you'd rather be, I wouldn't… I would hate to hold you up here, I mean.”

“No,” she answered quickly, before adding, “but I wouldn't want to be a bother if–”

“You’re not,” Rolan answered, offering the bottle back with a small smile as his own nerves lessened. “I'm more worried about being poor company, I suppose.”

“You’re not,” she answered back softly with her own grin. “A bit grumpy sometimes, though. Insufferably cocky, according to some.”

“I am not–” He looked up to defend himself, but the anger in his chest melted to surprised amusement when he saw her smirk: was she… teasing him? “You’re worse than Cal and Lia, you know. If I had known you stuck around just to mock me…”

She took a sip from their now shared bottle with a playful smile. “Oh, I wouldn't dream of mocking you, Rolan. Besides, cocky isn't exactly a bad look for you.” At that, Rhiannon  started, as if her own words had snuck up on her. “Or… for wizards in general, I mean. After all your studying and everything, I’m sure you've earned it.”

“Don't let Lia hear you say that,” he replied. She laughed again, swaying ever so slightly towards him as she did; his heart suddenly felt like it was doing flips in his chest. This might have been the longest conversation he could remember having with her, now that he thought about it; the longest without some snide remark slipping from his lips, at least. He cringed to himself again at what an utter ass he had been to her; but looking down at her now, laughing and smiling, standing so close to him that he could smell her perfume, flowers and wine and her godsdamned laugh muddling his thoughts…

“It's impressive,” she said, bringing him back to reality as she leaned against the rock again. “Did you really teach yourself everything?”

“Of course,” he answered. “No one in Elturel had the time or the inclination to teach an orphaned tiefling child how to be more dangerous, but I knew I had it within me to be great. I became my own teacher.”

“How did you do it?” Rhiannon asked. “I mean, it couldn't have just been books, right?”

Rolan stepped forward to reach for the bottle and took a quick swig before answering. “Books, yes, and practice. I… I used to sneak out to watch the Hellriders when they were fighting. We weren't supposed to, and our mother would've been furious if she caught me, but… I watched the mages casting, and tried to copy what they were doing until it worked.”

“Huh.” She was staring at him critically - or perhaps inquisitively. “I never had the chance to study magic. Always wanted to try, but being on the road, village after village… traveling tutors weren't exactly in the budget. That, and I'm afraid I never had your discipline when it came to studying.”

“Oh?” He replied. “I would have thought you’d meet plenty of mages on the road. They couldn't teach you?”

Rhiannon took another sip of wine with a rueful smile. “Yeah, well… truthfully, my dad wasn't thrilled with the idea of it. He taught me a few practical things, of course, like he used - healing spells and some stuff with my bow. But there was always a reason not to take any lessons. We didn't have time to stop, or money was too tight. Spellbooks were too heavy to lug all over the Sword Coast. But really, I think he was just scared of me running off like–” She stopped short, as if she had surprised her own self with her story. “I… sorry, must be the wine. I’m sure I didn't stay to talk your ear off with my life story.”

He recognized the look on her face as she eyed the ground; the same look he saw on his siblings and the other refugees when they were trying not to dwell on Elturel. It was the look they usually made right before leaving to sulk in their own misfortunes. But he wasn’t ready for her to leave; truthfully, he was desperate for her to stay, to keep talking and laughing and just be near him. He searched his mind for anything to salvage the conversation before it was too late.

“Why did you stick around, then? If not to pick fun at me.”

She started a bit, pushing a strand of hair back from her face as she looked from the ground to him, a mischievous twinkle lighting in her eyes.

“I'm only here to watch some magic, of course,” she answered with a coy smile.

He smirked back, his own eyes lighting up at her smile. “Of course,” he said, though not without noticing the way that she blushed. Surely just the wine, he told himself, but... “By all means then. What kind of magic were you hoping to see?”

“I… don't know?” She answered, perking up against the rocky seat. “I thought you were supposed to be the expert on magic. What can you do?”

Rolan answered with a very self-assured snort. “Plenty. Watch.” He moved to stand beside her as she watched with one eyebrow raised at him. With a little looking, he found his target: Cal, trying his luck with the dark-haired cleric on the other side of the camp. He gave Rhiannon a quick sideways glance before casting; in moments, a short gust of wind knocked his brother off his feet, sending his drink careening towards the woman’s clothes.

Rhiannon gasped beside him before breaking out in laughter. “You’re horrible!” She said between laughs, trying to sound serious as she swatted his arm. “I never knew magic could be so petty.”

“When the need arises,” he said, looking over at her. Her hand was still on his arm, resting just at his elbow as she watched the scene unfold with guilty amusement. “Don’t feel too badly for him. He’s not as innocent as he seems.”

“Is that so?” She asked, laughing. “Well, gods forbid I ever end up on your bad side. If that’s what you do to your own brother, I can’t imagine I’d have any hope.” She swayed a bit as she laughed, bumping into his arm and sending a shiver through him.

“I wouldn't worry about that,” he said, surprising himself with how gentle his own voice sounded. 

He paused; Rhiannon had suddenly gone silent. Had that been the wrong thing to say? The wrong way to say it? He looked down at her, frozen at his side now, eyes locked onto his with a more serious expression. He’d accidentally overstepped, misread the tone of their conversation, and had now put her in an awkward position. It was Rhiannon who broke the stillness, before he could come up with an appropriate apology. She looked down at her hand in mild alarm, as if she was surprised to see it still laying on his arm, and stiffly patted the spot as she withdrew.

“Well, that’s a relief,” she said, taking a nervous step back. “And I thought you didn't like me.”

He let out a tentative sigh of relief as he cast his eyes on the ground. “Yes, well… I do give off that impression, don't I?”

“Oh no, I didn't mean– I just… hells,” she said. “I didn't exactly make a great impression on you, either, I’m sure. With the whole… sticking my nose into your family’s business, and then delaying your apprenticeship, and… I wouldn't have blamed you for holding it against me. I didn't blame you, in fact.”

Rolan looked at her, a bit… confused, honestly. She thought that she was to blame for his horrendous behavior? His rude remarks, constantly belittling her - she thought she had deserved that? After everything she had done to help the refugees, the grove, all of them, he’d still been unable to reign in his terse manner; and for some reason, Rhiannon had not only not held it against him, but believed it was what she was due.

Even if she saw no problem with his behavior, he felt that he couldn't let it stand. “Rhiannon, I believe I owe you an apology. Many apologies, probably, for my… ‘disagreeable behavior’ would be too polite to describe how I’ve treated you. You did nothing to deserve that, and you continued to help us regardless. I shouldn't have–”

Rhiannon cut him off with a wave of her hands. “You don't owe me anything, Rolan,” she said with that disarming smile. “If anything, we’re even for getting on each other’s nerves.”

He felt a lightness blossoming in his chest at her words, as if he was just now realizing how much this guilt had been weighing on him. He disagreed, of course. Her teasing and badgering were not at all “even” with his own harsh words, but he wasn't going to pick a fight with her over how many fights he had already picked with her; not now, at least. They fell into silence instead; he was unsure how to continue, but reluctant to let her go just yet. As she stood in front of him, kicking at the dirt and awkwardly shuffling the wine bottle in her hands, an idea came to him. He reached for the bottle and took a swig for courage. “Let me make it up to you, then.”

Her eyes shot up to meet his, twinkling with curiosity as she crinkled her nose. “How?”

He didn’t answer her question, only giving her a little smile as he nodded to an empty patch of shore a few yards away. “I think we’ll need more space for this.” Rolan held out a hand to gesture her forwards,  a silent “after you” before following her to the water’s edge.

 “Alright,” she answered as she eyed him with a grin, “but if you conjure up something to push me into the water like you did to Cal…”

He barked out a short laugh. “I wouldn’t dare. Just a peace offering,” he said, moving behind her while she watched him quizzically. Looking over her shoulder, he said, “here; hold up your hands… no, more like this…” Gingerly, he set his hands on her arms and guided them into the right position. He was painfully aware now of their proximity, of the very short distance between them. close enough to feel the coolness of her skin compared to his. A single movement could have brought them together, any sway or stumble or bump. That thought alone terrified him, the worry of another misstep to test her good graces as he poured all his focus into acting normal. He tried to keep his mind clear, to focus instead on the Weave around them. Hovering his hands just over her forearms, he began to to channel a small amount of magic through to her.

“Alright,” he said, steadying his voice, “try to focus on the Weave. Can you feel it?”

“I… I'm not sure,” she answered quietly, crinkling her face. Could she tell how nervous he was? Was it possible for her to pick up on his thoughts through the magic he was lending her? “I feel… something, I think.”

“Good. Grab onto that,” he said, chasing his paranoid ramblings away. “Now, you need to just copy my hands.” He demonstrated the casting gesture, a simple pattern traced with the fingers followed by a wave.

“Like this?” She asked, looking over her shoulder at him for confirmation. Her fingertips crackled lightly as she finished the gesture.

“Exactly,” he said. “Now, just grab on to that fragment of the Weave you felt earlier. Channel it outwards while you do that again, and…” With a small wave of both hands and a flourish outwards, shimmering silver stars burst forth from Rhiannon’s hands and hung in the air before them.

She stood there for a moment, mesmerized by the display as Rolan watched the stars twinkle in her eyes. “You did that, right?” She asked, still looking forward.

“No,” he answered, his eyes still locked on her. “I provided a channel for the Weave, but the spell is all yours.”

Watching her eyes light up in wonder at her own spell work, Rolan was struck with another idea. Casting a slight modification of the gesture, the stars in front of them slowly transformed into glittering silver sprites, couples dressed in ball gowns and finery as they waltzed across the air in front of them.

Rhiannon gasped as the dancers took shape. “That’s amazing,” she said with an almost breath less laugh. “And you do this all the time?”

“The magic? Of course,” he replied. “I don't often… I don't teach it to others, normally, but… I…”

The words melted away from his mind as she turned to look at him, shoulder just barely leaning into his chest as she smiled coquettishly over it. “Good,” she said, “I was worried this was the trick you showed all the women you were trying to impress.”

He laughed, letting his arms fall to his side. His heartbeat was picking up rapidly. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” she said, her teasing smile shining brighter than anything he could conjure as she turned and laid a hand on his chest. Would she be able to feel his heart, he wondered, beating wildly against his ribs with her every word? She leaned against him a bit more. “I was hoping I might be a special case.”

Time froze on that moment, balancing on the precipice between the playful teasing of a friend, or something more. He hadn’t even allowed himself to consider her a friend before; he didn't think he had earned the right. Rolan’s thoughts seemed to stop, completely consumed by Rhiannon, by everything about her. The way her laughs against him had seemed to reverberate through every inch of his being; the coolness of her hand on his chest; the electrifying thrill of her touch, through only a thin layer of fabric. He was lost in her eyes, her smile, her lips; gods, her perfect lips. With his breath still catching in his throat, he gently raised his hand, fingertips lightly brushing a few stray wisps of hair off of her cheek.

“You are,” he whispered before closing the space between them, placing his lips on her own. He went slowly at first; a gentle, tender, sweet kiss, with his arm around her waist oh so lightly, giving her ample leave to pull away if he had misjudged. But she didn't pull away; her own hands slid up his chest to cup his face as she pulled him in closer. Rolan felt like his world was exploding, infinitely, more and more with every movement of her lips against his. He felt her fingers weave gently through his hair as she ran her tongue across his lips with a small hum against them in the form of a question. He gave in quite willingly, their tongues aching to find each other while he wrapped his arm tightly around her middle, pulling her closer until she was left clinging to him for balance. But nothing was enough, it felt like; he needed more of her, a feeling she seemed to share. One of her hands made its way toward the belt of his robes, snaking just underneath the fabric to feel his skin, her delicate fingers sending a shiver up his spine as he lost himself in her. It was wonderful; it was perfect; it was–

“Rolan! Are you doing fireworks again?” 

It was very rudely interrupted. They shot apart from each other at the sound of the tiefling child’s voice, followed by the patter of small feet running towards the shoreline. “Can you do– hey!”

“Not for you, squirt,” Cal’s voice followed. Rolan saw him grab the little boy by the shoulder and turn him back around. “Run off and play somewhere else.”

He thought he saw a sly smirk on his brother’s face as he shepherded the boy away; Cal and Lia were surely going to be unbearable when he saw them next. He stood stock still, dumbfounded as he tried to make sense of the last few moments. It wasn't until he felt Rhiannon start to shake with poorly stifled laughter that he realized his arms were still wrapped around her. His heart sank to his stomach, fear that he had done something wrong after all flooding in. “What?”

“Nothing,” she said, trying to master her own laughter. “It’s just…” She looked up from his chest, standing up on her toes to reach his lips as she leaned in. “Remind me to thank your wingmen later.”

***

The sun was well above the horizon before Rhiannon was able to rouse herself from her tent. So much for an early start, she thought as she dragged herself to the fire and blearily poured some coffee. As exhausted as she felt, she didn't regret a thing; she had spent half the night laying on the beach with Rolan, teasing the tiefling wizard between lazy kisses, and the other half lying awake thinking about him. Her heart fluttered as she thought over it again, memories of the night before playing through her head on repeat. 

But as much as she had enjoyed it, his timing couldn't have been worse; the tiefling party was leaving for Baldur’s Gate this morning, and her own group was bound for Moonrise Towers. How bittersweet that their first moment’s together were set to be their last. But still, she thought that she would much prefer to carry the memory of sweet kisses that came too late than the regret of them never having come at all.

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you,” came a gruff voice from the edge of their camp.

Rhiannon felt a grin tug at the corners of her lips as she saw Rolan walking towards her very seriously. She smirked at him over the rim of her mug. “Good morning to you, too,” she said, stepping closer until she was only inches from him. He stopped short, a blush creeping across his cheeks adorably as he faltered, the cracks in his determined veneer coming apart so easily at the slightest provocation.

“I…” He stopped, letting out a chuckle as a small smile donned his lips. “Good morning. I thought I might’ve missed you.”

She shook her head, still rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “I just overslept. For some reason, I didn’t get much sleep last night,” she teased. “I was actually worried you might’ve already left.”

“Of course not.” The way he said it, so matter-of-factly, might have sounded short or even rude to her yesterday; but the thought that he hadn't wanted to leave without seeing her, as if the idea of it was ridiculous to even consider, spawned butterflies in her stomach.

“I– well, Cal and Lia and myself, we– I thought that– ugh,” He threw his head back with a disgruntled huff.

Rhiannon cocked her head at him, confused, before realization washed over her like ice. Was he having second thoughts? Did he regret their night together, showing her stars and magic tricks and tenderness? Was he trying to find the words to let her down easy, to avoid awkward expectations if they met again in the city? “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. It’s just– I am… not good at… this,” he said, gesturing broadly at her. “At…”

The lightness that had been in her chest turned to lead. She was making too much out of one impulsive evening; of course she was, and he could tell. Hells, everyone at the party had been looking for someone to spend it with. Why had she assumed it was more than that? 

“Oh,” she said, taking a step away to hide her reddening face. “I… it’s fine. You don’t have to explain, Rolan. I understand if you don't–”

“No!” He said quickly, reaching out for her arm. “No, that’s not… Gods, I’m already making a mess of this.” He paused, taking a deep breath to collect his thoughts before continuing. “I… we thought… if we’re all headed to the city anyways, and there’s strength in numbers, that you might… you all could…”

“Come with you?” She asked hopefully, the words out of her mouth before she realized.

“I… yes,” he answered. “Or that, if the rest of your group doesn't want to, that at least… you might stay with us.”

He… was asking to stick together? Rhiannon’s heart swelled to an ache at the thought; at the idea of Rolan wanting her near, and the knowledge that she couldn't accept. 

“Oh, Rolan, I… it’s not that I don't want to, believe me. I would in a heartbeat if I could, but… we really can't split up. Even if we wanted to. And we have to go to Moonrise Towers, and…” She realized she’d been avoiding his eyes. And the crestfallen look on his face as she looked up at him, the way he was already retreating back from the moment - it stung in her chest. She grabbed his hand earnestly as she continued, stepping in closer to him. “Rolan, please believe me when I say I wish I could. And I… just to know that you - or, all of you, that you want me around, is…”

“Why can't you, then?” Rolan asked insistently. “What’s so important about some ruined old towers? If you’re after adventures and gold, there’s plenty of other places that aren't so–”

“It’s not that,” she interrupted. She could feel her chest tightening as she spoke. “It’s complicated. I can't– it’s not easy to explain, but we can’t just… go our own ways.”

“Why not?” He demanded. Rhiannon looked away again as her eyes began to water. Not now. Don’t mess this up now. “Rhiannon?”

Images of the night before flashed in front of her as she looked at him. Shining little couples dancing across the sky, awkward laughs and sweet kisses, gentle arms around her. She shut her eyes tightly, trying to ebb the flow of tears threatening to break loose. “I… I'm worried if I tell you everything, you’ll…” She took a deep and nervous breath. “You won't look at me the same way. You’ll see… something else entirely. I just don’t want to… to ruin something… nice.”

Rolan furrowed his brow and tilted his head at her, confused and concerned eyes darting over her face. But he didn't pull away. “Tell me anyways.”

A choked laugh bubbled its way up her throat. Of course he couldn't just make this easy; he was going to pull the truth out of her, and afterwards, she knew that all he’d be able to see in her was a monster waiting to happen.

So be it, then. “Alright,” she sighed, nervously fidgeting with his fingers in her hand. She looked at the sky, then the trees, and the ground; anywhere but his face. She didn't have the strength to see the look in his eyes when heard what she was about to say. “When that ship crashed… we were all on it. We’re all abductees who somehow managed to survive the crash.”

She watched the realization form in his head. “But that was a nautiloid. It was a mindflayer ship.”

Rhiannon bit her lip nervously. “Yeah.”

“But if you were abducted, they would have… it's been weeks, that’s not possible. How could you still be…?”

Tentacle free? Blissfully in control of their own minds? “Alive?” She settled on. “I don't know. We think it has something to do with that little box Shadowheart carries, so as long as we stay together, we’re fine. But that’s why we needed Halsin. That’s why we have to go to Moonrise; he says the… he says it comes from there.” 

She couldn't bring herself to say the word: tadpoles. The tadpoles that were slithering through their skulls, threatening to turn them all into soulless abominations. This would certainly be the end of any goodwill, let alone any feelings Rolan or his siblings might have had towards them. Towards her in particular. “I know it must feel like a betrayal, but I swear, Nettie made sure we wouldn't pose any danger to you all. We never showed any symptoms, and she gave us a bottle of wyvern poison to take if we–”

“Wyvern poison?” Rolan scoffed, a flash of anger in his voice. “She wanted you to poison yourself?”

“To keep us from hurting any of you. In case we couldn't find Halsin, or… who knows what else. I promise, Rolan, we never wanted to put any of you in danger. I never meant to–”

“We’ll come with you, then,” he interrupted.

Rhiannon stopped, tears halting as she cocked her head at him. “What?”

“If you’re going into the shadow curse, you’ll need magic to counteract it. Not to disparage Gale’s talents, but I doubt he has the experience that I do in these kinds of magic. And if you’re delving into ancient ruins, you'll need even more help. Lia is good with a bow, and Cal can handle a sword well enough,” he said. He didn't look angry, or upset, or utterly disgusted by her admission; he looked… determined.

Rhiannon felt confused; he didn't understand, surely. “No, you– it’ll be dangerous.”

“We can handle ourselves, I assure you.”

“That’s not what I mean. I… we could… change at any time. It wouldn't be fair to put all of you at risk like that.”

“You won't,” Rolan said decisively. “Not as long as you have that box, whatever it is. That’s what you said.”

“Well, as far as we know, but…” She continued to stare into his face, bewildered and bemused; and a little in awe, to be honest. “What about your apprenticeship? Weren't you in a hurry?”

“It… will still be there,” Rolan answered; he tried to sound cool and unbothered, but the nervous flickering of his tail betrayed him. “I can send word ahead with the other refugees. Besides, studying mindflayer repelling boxes and shadow-cursed lands must count as some kind of experience. Lorroakan will be all the more impressed, I’m sure.”

His offer was incredibly tempting, to be sure; but the weight of it all still loomed over her. “You don't have to do this, you know. No one could blame you for sticking to the safe route, especially when it’s not your fight,” she said. “I can't ask you to do this.”

“You’re not,” he replied, very matter-of-factly before melting into a faint smirk. “Lia is, actually. I think she’s grown rather fond of you.”

Rhiannon let out a small snort that erupted into a burst of giggles. It felt like too much to expect; she almost wondered if was still dreaming.

“Is that so?” She asked, tentatively laying her free hand on his chest, feeling his heart pound wildly as she hovered inches from his lips. “You’re saying Lia would miss me, then?”

She could hear the sharp breath he drew in getting caught in his throat as he wrapped an arm around her waist; could feel the shaky exhale against her lips as he stared deeply into her eyes. His answer was barely a whisper: “very much.”

She grinned back at him, biting her lower lip with a contemplative hum. Her heart felt like it was trying to climb its way out of her throat, the elation and anticipation within her too much to fit in such a small space. She leaned in slowly, heart thumping, her eyes never breaking from his. “In that case…”

“There you are. Are you quite ready to– …oh.” Rolan started under her hand, blush creeping up his cheeks before burning into annoyance at the elf’s salacious tone and very unwelcome intrusion.

Rhiannon glared at him pointedly. “Can I help you, Astarion?”

“Apologies, I didn't realize you were busy,” he replied, cutting suggestive eyes at the two of them. “Some of us were simply wondering if you’d be ready to depart any time soon. You know, worms to be cured, cults to be dealt with…”

“...oh,” she replied, deflating as she sank back down to her feet. It was late into the morning, to be sure, but she had hoped… “Are they already ready?”

“Very nearly,” Astarion answered. “Halsin is talking to his druids; probably telling them when to water his trees in his absence, or whatever it is druids do.”

Across the camp, Halsin’s hulking form jutted out above the rest, in jovial conversation with his people. He was the one with the knowledge of the shadow curse; they would have to clear this with him if Rolan was to join their party. Rhiannon grabbed Rolan’s hand, uttering a quick “thank you” to Astarion as they took off in that direction.

“Halsin?” Rhiannon called as they grew near. “Do you have a moment?”

Halsin looked up from his discussion with a kind smile. “Of course, my friend. Speak your mind.”

“Right. Well, I– or rather, Rolan was saying– if it would be possible, that is, we…” Her stuttering, fumbling words came to a halt as they all tried to come crashing out of her mouth at once. She looked sideways to Rolan and nodded towards Halsin, a silent plea of a little help, please? 

“My family and I are coming with you,” he said, stepping forward insistently as if he meant to leave no room for argument.

Halsin's face fell; he noticed the clasped hands between them. “I… see. I'm afraid we aren't bound for the city for quite some time, unfortunately.”

“I know,” Rolan replied. “We’re coming all the same.”

“The nature of our business at Moonrise is–”

“He already knows about the tadpoles,” Rhiannon interrupted, bouncing nervously at Rolan’s side. “They want to help, and I know it won't be easy to get to Moonrise, but that’s exactly why we could use their help. Right?”

But it was clear to her by the way Halsin looked at them that they weren’t going to like his answer. “I understand why you wish to come along, and I admire your bravery, but–”

“We’re more than capable of holding our own,” Rolan interrupted, the telltale signs of his temper flaring up. “So if you’re going to try and convince me that we can’t handle it, you can save your breath. We’ve survived more since the Descent than your peaceful little grove has seen in–”

Rhiannon tugged on his hand, a silent signal to please stop blowing up at the person they were asking a favor from. He grunted in response, clearly annoyed, but let any further words remain unspoken. 

Thankfully, Halsin remained calm in his address. “I don't doubt your abilities, or your achievements. But the shadow curse, and this cult, present challenges that cannot be felled with force. If they are using these tadpoles as a means of control, as I suspect they are, I hesitate to allow any more people than is necessary to risk their lives.”

“We haven't been infected. They can’t control us,” Rolan replied huffily.

“Exactly,” Halsin continued. “They will recognize you as outsiders, at which point they will try to infect you with a tadpole we may not be able to counteract, or…”

“Or worse,” Rhiannon finished under her breath, remembering the scenes of murder and desecration they had witnessed at the goblin camp. “You’re right.”

“That’s not your decision to make,” Rolan answered, almost snarling on the words as he continued to challenge the druid.

Rhiannon pulled his sleeve again. “Rolan…”

“What?” He replied as he turned on her, the words coming out almost harsh enough to sting.

“Can I speak to you privately?” She asked. Rolan bristled, but bitterly acquiesced, his tail kicking up dirt as it swished angrily behind him.

“Your conviction is admirable, as is your dedication to each other,” Halsin said before letting them go. “I take no joy in splitting a young couple apart, but… Oak Father willing, we’ll all meet again in the city.”

Rolan snorted derisively, like he had another biting remark ready as Rhiannon pulled him away, muttering a small thanks to Halsin.

“He means well, Rolan,” she said once they were by themselves again.

He shook his hand loose from hers. “Don’t try to patronize me. Just because the druid doesn't think we can handle it–”

“I’m not,” she replied, laying a hand on his arm. “I know you can. If any of you could handle the shadow curse, I’m sure it would be you.”

Rolan scoffed harshly. “Then why do I sense a ‘but’ coming on?”

Rhiannon struggled to look him in the eye, fiddling with his sleeve as she stepped closer.  “Halsin’s… right about the cult, I think. Especially about the… listen, getting yourselves infected would be bad enough, but they could do much worse. I saw them do worse, Rolan.” 

“So everyone keeps saying, but I think we’ll manage against a few bloody cult nutters who fall to any group of adventurers,” Rolan insisted, “not that I mean any offense, but–”

“No, Rolan, you don't understand. The things they were doing in that camp, the things they spoke about, you can't–” Panic rose in her voice as she remembered the gruesome scenes burned into her mind; torture racks and cages, men thrown to wild beasts out of boredom, bodies made unrecognizable as they roasted on spits, or butchered like cattle to become worg feed. And everywhere they turned, the repeated promise of more at Moonrise. 

She forced a deep breath. “You have to stay with the other refugees,” she said, the words spilling out of her as her breath returned. “Because I can't watch them do that to you, any of you. Certainly not because of me.”

“Rhiannon–”

“Please.” She put her hands on either side of his chest as she stepped into his arms, gripping at the fabric of his robe. “I know you don't need to be coddled and talked down to. I’m not trying to, but I… I can’t be the reason you all take this risk. Not when you don't have to.”

She stood there for what felt like far too long, her heart drumming erratically as she waited for him to respond. Finally, he answered with a defeated sigh. “I… alright. Fine.”

She let out a heavy sigh of relief, melting into his chest. “Thank you,” she replied softly. “And I'm sorry, Rolan. I am. I just–”

“Don’t be,” he interrupted. He sounded gruff, almost annoyed at her; but the gentle, nervous way he laid his hands on her hips suggested otherwise. 

She let out another sigh, more comfortable this time than anxious. “It’ll work out better like this anyway, won’t it? The other tieflings need your help more than we will. That’s the reason you stayed behind to begin with, isn't it?”

Rolan ran his thumb over her side, looking down at her with an almost sad smile. “Of course.”

“Right,” she said. “And this way, you won't be late for your apprenticeship. And I can send you some very detailed letters about the shadow curse to impress Lorroakan with. Maybe even some samples of whatever weird shadow magic you were hoping to study.”

“Oh?” He asked, amused. “And where will you find a courier in the shadow cursed lands?”

“You mean there isn't some magical letter service you can whip up?” She replied. “How do you wizards get anything done?”

He chuckled at her under his breath. Her eyes were still streaked with red, and a single tear trailed its way down her cheek. As he reached to brush it away, she caught his hand in her own and pulled him in for a kiss. It only took a moment for him to register; he wrapped his free arm around her waist as he kissed her back, fiercely, full of purpose and promise as she wove her fingers through the hair at the top of his neck. He splayed his fingers across the small of her back as she pressed herself further into his chest, rolling every inch of herself against him in ways that would surely haunt his dreams in the months to come. As suddenly as she had started the kiss, she pulled away, still holding his head to hers, leaving him breathless and hopelessly dazed as he clung to her form.

“Just wanted to give you something to look forward to,” she murmured. She pressed one last chaste kiss to his lips before pulling away from him entirely, leaving only the tips of their fingers linked between outstretched arms. “Where will you be when I get to Baldur’s Gate?”

Rolan blinked as he recollected himself. “I… Ramazith’s Tower,” he answered by rote as his mind replayed what had just passed between them.

“Alright. It’s a date.” Rhiannon let her fingers drop from his on the last word as she backed away, eyes locked on him and a smirk on her lips. She kept up the coy facade until she turned away, letting it slip with a shaky breath once she was certain he wouldn't hear. Don’t let him see you making a fuss over it, she chided herself. No long, teary goodbyes to taint what should be a happy memory. It should be some sweet little thought to get her through the coming weeks; not something lost, but something had. But perhaps it could be something more, if she could make it to the city in one piece. The promise of something between them to keep her moving forward.

Something to look forward to.

[admistedenslush]

Desert Rose ~ Prologue

Aemond Targaryen / Fem!Reader

Synopsis:Aemond always held a special affection for his elder niece, Ser Criston Cole's kin.

Warnings: self-deprecating reader, abusive/foul language

════════ ❀•°❀°•❀ ════════

DORNE, 130 AC

In a Dornish hamlet, ethereal silks draped gracefully upon your form, and the soft chiming of gold jewels accompanied every movement. As young maidens danced around you, a circle of elder women surrounded you.

“Beautiful hair, thick and resilient,” one whispered, her touch tenderly weaving through your locks.

The collective murmur of agreement resonated, and your grin mirrored the reciprocity of compliments that flowed like a gentle breeze among kindred spirits.

Kindred spirits abound — men, women, and children mirroring your essence.

Amidst this tranquil interlude, a familiar, jarring screech pierced the air, disrupting the serenity. A distant crimson blur materialized in the sky, unsettling you. As the serpent-necked dragon descended menacingly, the ominous certainty of impending peril seized your consciousness.

“Run along, dears. No harm will befall you. He's here for me,” you reassured them.

“A dragon rider for you? Who?” inquired the older woman.

“My father,” you responded, prompting a furrowed brow that deepened the wrinkles framing her discerning eyes.

With eyes tinged in suspicion and anxiety, they fled, children cradled in their arms.

You remained motionless, unafraid of Daemon Targaryen, yet as he touched down, a subtle unease settled in your stomach. At that moment, your life unfolded before your eyes: a tapestry woven with images of your mother, heir to the Iron Throne, your brothers, Laenor Velaryon. And there, amidst the memories, lingered the haunting visage of the boy with the scarred face—your uncle, last encountered in what felt like a lifetime ago.

❀

Seated beneath a prayer wheel, crafted by Queen Alicent, he awaited—a miracle the queen gave you leave to enter his chambers.

“Who enters?” croaked the young boy.

Closing the chamber door, you settled by his feet.

“Guess who,” you smiled down at him.

You weren't present during the horrific incident, much like Aegon. The younger children spared you the disturbance.

“Why did you come, b-bastard?” His puffy face sought direction, frizzy hair falling untamed.

Aemond's answer didn't faze you; a wounded child stood before you.

“I thought I was your friend, your flower.” You reached for him, but he swatted your hands away.

“A rose. A desert rose. Somehow, you flourish even in the wrong temperature,” he spat.

You came to console the blonde but left, the need for sympathies shifting to you. Grabbing your skirts, you shoved the door open, brushing by the guards into the echoes of the castle.

❀

A bellow of your name and titles snapped you back to reality. Descending from Meraxes, your stepfather's gaze held a mix of anger and disappointment—a familiar look you'd encountered countless times. Though the exact memory eluded you, you believed it originated from the time you first entered this realm, a crying babe with dark curls.

“This is where you've been,” he strode towards you.

“Dorne,” you answered, feigning ignorance.

His eyes darkened.

“Do you realize how sick with worry your mother is?”

Your demeanor shifted, your hand resting on your stomach, the concern for your mother overpowering any attempt to hold your ground.

“I'm—” you began.

“No, listen to me. You don't have the fucking right to fly off by yourself without telling anybody, especially at this time.”

“I'm sorry,” teary eyes blurred your vision.

“I expected to find you a mess, maimed, scratched, on the brink of death. A corpse I'd have to carry back to Dragonstone for your mother! Yet here you are in costume, covered in gold,” he continued in a fit.

The sound of your sob halted him. He sighed, enveloping you in his arms, soothing your babbling apologies. Cupping your face, his calloused fingers brushed away your tears, your quivering mouth unable to articulate.

“ Tala. You are the blood of the dragon. Don't ever think less of yourself.” He tightened his embrace, pressing your face against his chest.

His hand shrugged off the Dornish textile from your shoulders.

“You are a Targaryen, you are your mother's daughter,” he whispered.

════════ ❀•°❀°•❀ ════════

@valleyof-goldenlilies

[it-happened-one-fic]

An Odd Sort of Family - Xiao

Author Notes: It's my birthday so I decided to post something super self-indulgent. So behold, a found family fic with Xiao and Qiqi. I didn't actually use a specific song or anything while writing this fic. It was purely just me writing something that I felt like writing. As per usual, reader is gender-neutral. I hope you enjoy.

Type: Fluff/ found family/ featuring Miss Qiqi/ romantic feelings implied towards reader from Xiao/ gender neutral reader

Word Count: 1131

Xiao stood atop a rock, watching silently as you knelt next to Qiqi. Talking quietly as the two of you collected herbs. 

It was a common sight. The two of you working together as peacefully as could be despite the dangers that Xiao knew abounded throughout Liyue.

You always made time to assist the little girl in collecting herbs after running across her in various perilous situations, and Xiao always stood watch. Ready to go off and fight for Liyue’s safety or to guard the two of you.

He scanned the area, looking for anything amiss, as he kept up his eternally vigilant watch over Liyue even in this peaceful moment.

The only thing that managed to distract him was when you straightened. Nodding with a smile down at the little girl next to you before trotting off in the direction she’d pointed. And Xiao watched you; his stance relaxed as he watched your form disappear just behind yet another rocky outcropping.

You always managed to distract him, though. It was something of a talent that you had, even if you didn’t know it.

Normally, Xiao was constantly aware of his surroundings, but when you were around, a tiny bit of his attention was consistently devoted to you. And Xiao had a sneaking suspicion that he knew why that was.

“Xiao,” The yaksha glanced down at the tiny and eternally stoic little girl, who now gazed up at him with an unreadable expression from where she’d approached.

It was surprising that Qiqi had remembered his name, but she seemed to be recalling both you and him better the more time you both spent with her. Though, to be fair, Xiao was almost positive your name had been added to her journal of things she wanted to remember.

And he couldn’t blame Qiqi. He wouldn’t ever want to forget you either, and at this point, he doubted such a thing would ever be possible. Even as time wore on for however many years he remained, he didn’t think he would ever forget you.

Xiao didn’t have to respond for Qiqi to continue in her usual monotone seriousness, “I don't want Y/n to get hurt. We need to protect them.”

Her bluntness was not surprising, but Xiao was at a loss for words as he stared down at her. It was true that he came along to guard you, but he didn’t entirely know how to respond to Qiqi’s words. They were unexpected, after all. 

You had started accompanying Qiqi to protect her, and now the little girl wanted to protect you. It was almost an ironic situation.

But after a brief moment, Xiao nodded. Matching the little girl’s seriousness as he agreed. Because you did deserve to be protected.

It was an unspoken understanding that the three of you had, even if none of you actually realized it. Qiqi and Xiao both protected you from any lurking damage because they didn’t want to see you get hurt. You were a home of sorts to both of them when each had, in their own way, believed that no home would ever truly want them.

You and Xiao gave Qiqi the love and care she needed. Warming her life without smothering her. Because even if she was a zombie, she was also just a child who needed love, even if she didn’t realize it. And while Baizhu did adore her, he could only do so much for the little girl.

And finally, you and Qiqi ensured that Xiao was no longer alone. And that was why he would also accompany you. He wanted to be with you, no matter where that place might be.

Without even entirely intending it, the three of you had become a family of sorts that cared for one another by providing the things that each of you needed and deserved.

In truth, Qiqi didn’t even have to ask for Xiao to protect you. Xiao would protect both you and Qiqi without any requests or thanks. In part, it was because it was his duty as a guardian Yaksha, but in part, it was because you were both important to him.

Xiao had experienced losing family before, and his relationship with them had been different. The other Yaksha had been like siblings, but you…. You were different. Losing you would be painful, just as losing them had been, but in an entirely new way. And you were far more fragile than any of the other Yaksha had ever been.

And with Qiqi, in many ways, he felt like he’d already failed her once. It was true that she had died in an accident during the archon war, and though it might not have been Xiao directly who caused the accident, it was also true that if he’d been better at his job, then it might have never happened.

It was possible that the guilt he felt towards her death was simply the condensing of the guilt he felt towards everyone who had been lost during the war. But it was also possible that he looked at her and saw a fragility, unlike yours, but also one that had not been possessed by the family he had once had.

Though you, Qiqi, and Xiao were an odd sort of family, that family was still precious to the Yaksha and something that he would dearly protect.

“Xiao?” Your call sounded clearly, without a hint of fear. In fact, it sounded more like you were just simply calling out to him. 

Almost like you somehow knew the somber path his thoughts had taken.

But even though there was no urgency to your tone, there was also no hesitation to Xiao’s actions as he appeared by your side. Reaching out and steadying you as you balanced on the rocky, slightly treacherous ground.

You smiled at him as soon as his hand grasped your arm, as if there were nothing odd about the sometimes awkward care he always showed you or the way he always had time for you.

“I found a good spot for us to have lunch and made sure to pack some almond tofu earlier today… Would you like to join us?” You smiled peacefully, and Xiao exhaled in amusement. Only you would be quite so carefree about making such a request. But Xiao only nodded, smiling slightly to himself as your own smile grew.

He watched silently as you called out to Qiqi, beckoning the little girl over to eat as you settled down and started unpacking the food. And as Xiao glanced around, surveying the area once more before allowing himself to fully relax into the peaceful atmosphere you’d created, he knew for a fact that he would always protect both you and Qiqi. 

Because you were precious to him.

[nonbinary-itachi]

Unity Clause

Fugaku is taking a long lunch from the Police Force when he feels Shisui's chakra flare off in the distance.

When he arrives at the scene, it's just in time to witness Danzo rip out Shisui's eye and Itachi swoops in to rescue him.

He follows Itachi's shushin (it leaves a thin chakra trail that Itachi's not as experienced at hiding) and comes across Shisui about to step over the ledge while Itachi seems frozen in place in terror/horror.

He quickly shushins over and grabs Shisui before he can do anything drastic then grabs Itachi and uses Hirashin (Minato taught it to him shortly after Itachi was born) to get back to the house quickly.

Mikoto drops a plate and slips into a fighting stance when the sudden chakra appears in her house before she realizes who it is.

She's horrified by the sight before her and quickly snaps to attention, directing Itachi to sneakily get Asami. Quickly!

Fugaku carries Shisui into his room (Shisui has had a room at the man houses since Fugaku and Mikoto realized his parents were... debatable at best) and lays him on the bed.

Fugaku isn't a medic nin, but he does know a bit about medical ninjutsu and tries to gauge the severity of the wounds. Obviously the missing eyes are worst, but he knows that os beyond his limited skills and focuses on the lesser injuries.

Itachi, meanwhile, dodges all the cameras in the compound to arrive at Asami's, who is, thankfully, alone. When he explains what happened, she's out of her chair and grabbing the storage scroll that holds all her medical equipment.

Back at the main house, she quickly assesses the scene and starts barking orders at the clan heads, who hurry to obey recognizing her seniority in this situation.

Everyone seems to forget Itachi, standing mutely in a corner still silently crying and highly traumatized by what happened.

At least until Asami orders someone to retrieve the Aburame clan head because she recognizes the poison in Shisui's system and only they have the antidote.

Itachi is once more ordered to leave and find someone.

Shibi is more shocked to have Fugaku's heir on his doorstep than the news that Danzo poisoned someone with his clan's specialty jutsu.

To avoid suspicion, Shibi henges into a bug and rides back to the Uchiha Compound on Itachi's shoulders.

He administers the antidote while Asami works on Shisui's eyes (Itachi having given back the other one somewhere in the chaos) and Fugaku heals the lesser injuries.

Given the situation, Asami decides to induce a coma for a few days to let his body recover and adjust to having his eye back/get the poison fully removed.

Shibi insists on knowing what happened, which now that he mentions it, no one is really sure what happened. All eyes suddenly fall on the visibly shaken Itachi.

For once, Fugaku takes pity on his eldest and uses the Sharingan to retrieve the memory of events.

Itachi falls to his knees in tears as he recount his newest nightmare for his father then has to listen to Fugaku recount the incident to Shibi, Mikoto, and Asami.

(Someone give this poor 11 year old a hug. Please.)

Shock and horror abounds. "What do you mean Danzo stole a kekki genkai?" The Uchihas are less shocked (there's been rumors about Danzo and Kagami for years), but no less horrified.

"Actually, this... this might actually work to our advantage," Fugaku says after the explanations are finished. He explains the Unity Clause (essentially a law written in by Hashirama and Madara that if 3 clan heads (or two if they happened to be the Uchiha and Senju) were ever in agreement that the hokage wasn't doing a good job, they could force a new election).

"If you'll agree that this is a horrifying oversight on Hiruzen's part, we just need to find one more clan head."

I have gotten very attached to the hc of Inoichi being Shisui's genin sensei. Someone points this out and recommends Inoichi for the third.

Fugaku is inclined to agree and sends word via his summons this time (he's finally realized Itachi probably should be resting and not running around the village while in shock).

Inoichi arrives, gets filled in, and immediately agrees to helps. He may have only started training Shisui as a favor to Fugaku, but he's grown to care about the boy. Plus, Inoichi has his own reasons for hating Danzo/disapproving of Hiruzen

[wandering-wolf23]

After the unexpected death of his brother, Prince Wilhelm Hart finds himself seeking solace in the arms of a mysterious stranger.

Suspicions abound and after an attempt on Wilhelm’s life, no one is going to balk at the sole remaining heir to the throne having constant protection. This stranger, though, is far more than he seems. He might not just be the solace Wilhelm so desperately needs… he might well be the catalyst to uncovering a sordid plot that threatens to undermine all of Talla Gael.

Jealousy, fear, and fanaticism have each set their deadly claws into all that Wilhelm holds dear. He’s going to need every ounce of courage – and more than a little luck – to solve the mystery of Emil’s death and save the kingdom he loves.

Read me HERE!

[sharksssm]

Not Broken At All

ace!tav, hurt/comfort, no smut! My Tav is in love with Shadowheart, Gale and Astarion, yes I can fix them all and together we can do anything okay. You could see it sometimes, when you walked through camp, hear it in their voices. Attraction. You weren’t opposed to a romantic relationship with one (or more) of your new acquaintances. No, friends? Companions? Regardless, you felt more and more sick every time you had to turn someone’s advances down, feeling the relationships you were building grow slightly tense in the aftermath.

Lae’zel was first, and Astarion had propositioned you in the goblin camp, that one stung to turn down, your attraction to him was strong. You almost considered just sucking it up so that he wouldn’t look at you the same way the other two did. Disappointed. You had some wine with Shadowheart, looked at the weave with Gale and shared a thought of you two holding hands, and you couldn’t help but scold yourself. Childish. Now you settled down for your rest, where a feeling of anticipation for the journey ahead should be, a feeling of discomfort sits in your stomach instead, rumbling through your mind the more you looked at your companions. Astarion caught your eye over the cover of his book, quirking an eyebrow at you. Your cheeks reddened as you cast your eyes to the ground. “I couldn’t help but notice your eyes on me, darling. I don’t suppose you’ve anything to say?” He wants you to change your mind, to want him like he wants you. “Oh, uh, no Astarion, sorry.” He sighs deeply. “Right, what’s the problem then? No offense darling but you’ve hardly taken the kicked puppy look off that pretty face all day, and surely my offer isn’t so bad you’ve been actually hurt by it.” You shook your head, hands outstretched in a placating manner, not that Astarion sounded particularly upset by any stretch. Although, he rarely did, upset or not. “No, not at all! It’s something personal, an issue for me alone to deal with.” You could feel eyes on you, assessing the situation. It was no secret, the flame you had for Astarion, let alone for some of your other companions, but neither was your rejection of his advances. Lae’zel in particular was not being subtle, eyes glued on the two of you while she sharpened her sword, Gale’s flitting between you and Astarion with barely-disguised interest. Your shoulders slumped. “Since all of you are so interested, how about we all talk about it, and get it open amongst the group.” The palpable lack of eyes on you suddenly made you almost more self-conscious, and Astarion looked almost… annoyed. “Oh yes, let's talk to the whole camp about you rejecting me.” It took maybe 5 minutes to gather everyone, sans Withers and Halsin, around the fire, the sunset light casting a pink-orange hue over the scene. You sighed, hands clasped in your lap, fiddling with the little ring you’d bought from the tiefling child, one to supposedly ‘ward off ants.’ Gale had laughed at you and you’d just blushed, remembering how it felt to search for any money you could as a kid. It gave you something to play with now, at least, so it was useful in the end. “Look, everyone… I'd like be honest with you all, as many of you have been with me.” A murmur of agreeance went around the group, their attention focused. “You’ve all – literally all of you – flirted with me at some point in this journey.” Suddenly, eyes on each other, narrowed and wide alike. Shock, suspicion, and jealousy ran abound, but still, nobody said a word, waiting for you. Why am I the leader here?

“And look, I truly take no issue with flirting. I enjoy it, most of the time. I just – “ Deep breath. “Ever since I was a child, there’s been something wrong with me. I feel love, so much of it, but when it comes to… well, after, there’s no feeling. I would well and truly fall in love with any of you but I have no feeling, or desire, to have sex.”

The eyes on you blinked, but still no response came, and your stomach dropped into the pit of your stomach. “I know that there’s something broken within me, and of course I don’t expect your understanding at all, in fact I’m sure some of you may feel that I’ve led you on, but truly-“ Your rambling was interrupted by hands on either side of your face. Shadowheart, of all people, knelt in front of you, her hands were glowing blue. “I can’t sense a thing wrong with you, which means it must be natural. It is okay, to not want or crave sex as the rest of us do. I am more than happy to just be in your presence and only do the things you want to do. That will always be enough.” A tear rolled down your face, as she kissed your nose, and moved to make room for Gale, who took your hand in his, gently squeezing. “You are not broken, nor are you the only one who feels this way. In fact, I know someone quite the same, back in Waterdeep. I can assure you that anyone who gets to know you will be more than charmed enough to overlook it, and if they cannot, then they don’t deserve you at all.”

You offered him a watery smile, squeezing his hand. “I don’t expect all of you to understand, but thank you, at least, for hearing me out. I might take a walk.” You let go of Gale’s hand, smiling at Shadowheart and walked past a silent Astarion and a pensive-looking Lae’zel. You truly didn’t want to think about what the rest of your companions thought about your feelings, you had enough thoughts of your own to contend with as you walked into the forested area behind your camp. Your whole life – childhood, your teenage years, you’d never met anyone like you, let alone anyone who accepted it so wholly. And here were two people who both accepted you and assured you that you were not alone.

You were so lost in thought you’re surprised you even heard a crunch of soil behind you. You spun, drawing your dagger, relaxing fully when you spotted Astarion. “Snapping twigs on purpose are you?” He smiled, walking towards you. “Well darling, I need to give you enough notice to get away from that dagger of yours in time.” You smiled weakly, sheathing it away and wrapping your arms around yourself. “Astarion, you don’t need to-“ “I need to apologise actually.” You looked up at him, red eyes meeting your own. “I asked you for sex, and when you said no I viewed it as a challenge, not a firm answer. That’s… not okay.” He appeared almost pained, and you reached out for his arm on instinct. “Astarion, you aren’t the first and you won’t be the last.” His eyes met yours, steeled and angry. “Your body and feelings are yours, nobody should ever try to take that choice, that truth, away from you.” You thought about what Astarion had told you previously, about Cazador and his treatment of Astarion. “Nobody should have taken it away from you either Astarion.” He took a step back, and a deep breath through his nose as his eyes closed, opening them again with a determined, but soft look in his eyes. “I know. Thank you. But let’s not distract from what I came here to tell you, which is that you are not broken, at all.” You were sure he could hear your heart beat faster at his words, perhaps even smell the blood flush your cheeks. He sighed, a heavy, deep sigh, of someone afraid of what might happen next.” “I also wanted to tell you that you were wrong.” Your heart felt like it stopped in your chest. “About?” “Do you remember when I was trying to honey you with words, how you laughed and said I was lying when I said ‘I love you?’ Well, I think I do. Or, well, I’m starting to.” Oh. Your mouth opened uselessly, and Astarion kept talking. “I had this nice, simple plan. Seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you’d never turn on me. It was easy – instinctive. Habits from two hundred years of charming people kicked in. All you had to do was fall for it. But you wouldn’t sleep with me. I tried everything – a knee between your legs as I fed, slight touches, outright asking. And even though I didn’t get anywhere with my seduction – I failed the other part of my plan, the part where I didn’t fall for you. Your mouth was dry, and you licked your lips, eyes on the ground, watching an ant scurry away from you. Damned ring, maybe it was magic. “You… you’re incredible.” His hand found your cheek, your face angled back towards him. “You deserve something real. I want us to be something real.”

A tear fell from your eye. You had no right to be hurt, you knew this was how he was trained – a training he was trying his hardest to break. But you’d let yourself fall for him, let yourself let someone into this closely guarded place within you. “Were you ever attracted to me, really? Or was it all just to try and bed me.” He looked almost shocked, throwing his hands out towards your body. “Of course I was attracted to you! I mean, look at you for goodness sake! You’re a vision.” He took your hand in his then, looking into your eyes, as if willing you to believe him to take his honestly at face value and not question him. “And you’re so much more than that. I just… don’t know what to think. I don’t know what I want.” You enveloped his hands in yours, stepping closer as he spilled more of his truth to you. “Gods, I don’t even know what ‘real’ looks like. Not after two hundred years playing the rake. Being close to someone, any kind of intimacy, was something I performed, a lure to bring people back to him. The idea of sex – it feels tainted. It brings up all these feelings of disgust, and loathing. I just – I don’t know how else to be with someone.” He put his chin up, addressing his next words to the empty space behind your head. “No matter how much I’d like to.” You’d seen him do this before, of course. Addressing the space behind you, steeling himself for disappointment, for rejection. “Astarion…” you murmured, running your hand down his arm, reminding him you’re still here, present. “I care about you, deeply.” His eyes shot back to yours, wide and hopeful. “Really?” You mulled your options here over in your mind, before stepping forward and wrapping your arms around him. He said he didn’t know how else to be with someone, and this was the only way you could be with someone. It took him a moment, but eventually you felt his face in your shoulder, his arms returning your embrace. You stood like that for a few moments, simply enjoying each other’s arms, before you stepped back, his face looking at your longingly. You could hug him every day for the rest of your lives and it wouldn’t be enough. “You.. you’re full of surprises, aren’t you? Honestly I have no idea what we’re doing – or what comes next.” The smile on his face lit the darkness around you up, and you couldn’t help but smile back. “But this,” he took your hand in his, “this is nice.”

You basked in this moment as long as you could, playfully chatting and holding hands, even hugging him again, but eventually, your tired eyes betrayed you, and Astarion insisted you needed rest, tugging you back to camp. You trekked back, cautiously optimistic. For now, Astarion was yours, okay with your sexlessness, okay with your love for him being only emotional and physical in all the ways excluding sex. Maybe after you killed Cazador, Astarion would change his mind, and seek out a partner who could provide him with everything he could ever want, a true romance. But a fire you thought snuffed out long ago burnt dimly inside you, a hope. You could be enough, as you are, enough for him to love you like you loved him, to stay with you and be happy and content without sex. You closed your eyes, the ground much more flat and without gnarled roots to trip your feet, and your love’s hand for guidance. You let yourself believe.

BONUS: Wyll: "I didn't mention it earlier, surrounded by your loves and all, but you are whole, love for sex and other festivities or none at all. You're not broken, or wrong, you just have an appetite for a different kind of love. I admire your bravery, my friend." Lae'zel: While my people sate our appetites freely, there are many among us who may choose not to partake. They are still just as strong in battle, as are you. Karlach: Soldier, I couldn't care less about something like that! Hell, you could tell me you exclusively fuck bugbears and I'd still love you! Well, actually, maybe not that, but you get the idea! Ugh, I just want to hug you forever. *proceeds to try and do so*

[cellphishthekaiju]

Crackpot Headcanon: Vlaakith's 'Grand Design' for Lae'zel (and the Githyanki)

Back again on my raving bullshit for Baldur's Gate 3 (D&D and Forgotten Realms by relation), this time we're looking at the Lich Queen Tyrant, Vlaakith CLVII... cause I have lunatic thoughts of this bitch that fuel the fanfiction I write.

As with all my lunatic fandom ravings, spoilers abound for Baldur's Gate 3, associated materials, and course, take this all with COPIOUS amounts of salt. I get most, if not all, of my 'canon' info from the Forgotten Realms wiki and try to doublecheck the sources but I don't always have the time or means to.

So what is known of Vlaakith is actually very little. The one in Baldur's Gate 3 is, presumably, the 157th githyanki to hold this title and has reigned for a thousand years (mostly as a lich). She has no known heirs and aspires to ascend to godhood (primarily through spam-casting Wish). D&D Lore is very sparse on the githyanki and even more so when it comes to nuances with the githyanki. They have existed since the days of AD&D (Advanced Dungeons & Dragons) but we didn't have much about them, canonically, for a long time.

So, lunatics like myself, let the brain worms fill in the blanks.

We know that Gith, for which the people get their namesake, was the figurehead and Leader of the rebellion that led to the toppling and near extinction of the Illithid Empire unknown millenia before. At her side, I believe both Vlaakith and Zerthimon assisted her (as advisors in different capacities... and to some unknown extent, her only 'confirmed' blood relative, her son Orpheus). As to their exact roles, it is unknown how Vlaakith advised Gith in the matters of her rebellion but given she is referred to as the first of a long series of Lich-Queens that rule the githyanki, her capacity likely involved her skill and knowledge in the arcane/Weave.

After the rebellion, it is believed Gith and Zerthimon fell to infighting, as Gith presumably was so consumed with righteous fury, she single-mindedly wanted to continue hunting down the remaining illithids while Zerthimon, seeing they had won, wished to carve a new life for the 'gith' now that they were free.

In my deranged mind, I suspect/believe that the Proclamation of Two Skies (how the gith refer to their civil war that led to the creation of the -yanki and the -zerai) was stoked and brought to fruition by Vlaakith I. She was always manipulative and concerned, primarily, with her own ambitions. Having witnessed how Gith roused and united the gith, how they called her 'mother' may have stoked jealousy in Vlaakith and so she conspired to take that power and reverence for herself, especially under the suspicion I have that Gith and Zerthimon were lovers/mates (I wrote a theory pointing at Orpheus may be their son).

Vlaakith conspired to turn Gith and Zerthimon upon each other but her plan had an unintended consequence; the division of the gith people into the Githyanki and the Githzerai (and with time, further fracturing in the form of Pirates of Gith, Sha'sal Khou and the Githvyrik (dunno how canon this is anymore because only occurs in one novel)). However, Vlaakith saw an opportunity in this fracture; Gith to be the sacrificial lamb on the altar of her ambitions.

It's believed Vlaakith I's first attempt at bargaining with Baator (The Nine Hells) was seeking a pact with Dispater. However, Vlaakith's attempt(s) failed for one reason or another... likely because Dispater is far more paranoid than Vlaakith is and saw no merit in a deal with such a conniving creature.

Having failed in bargaining with the Lord of Dis, Second Layer of Baator, Vlaakith found herself bargaining with Tiamat. It is, still, unknown the terms of their pact (or how she even got to bargaining with the Chromatic Dragon Queen to begin with) but the bargain was successful and Gith ended up being part of the price.

After the githyanki retreated into the Astral Plane, since the civil war left them weakened (and the githzerai went to Limbo), Vlaakith convinces Gith to travel to Avernus (First Layer of Baator), likely with promises that fed into Gith's violent ego and giving no indication that Gith was not going to make it back. With the bargain paid, Tiamat imprisoned Gith among her hoard (presumably) while Vlaakith returned to the githyanki on the back of Ephelomon, Tiamat's Chromatic Red consort. Together, the two convinced the githyanki that Gith had martyred herself in the bargain and commanded that Vlaakith guide and rule their people in her absence.

This is where the canon gets messy, as there appears to be a discrepancy in the order of events. In the 5e Monster Manual, it suggests Vlaakith sealed the bargain with Tiamat before the Proclamation of Two Skies happened. Texts like Mordenkaine's Tome of Foes suggests the bargain with Tiamat was struck after the split. I'm more inclined to agree it happened after, since the Githzerai and other non-yanki Gith do not benefit from the terms of the pact (mainly the access to Red Dragons)

So, what's this all got to do with the current Vlaakith?

Vlaakith CVII is more than I (want to) believe Larian has told/shown us.

Like her namesake, Vlaakith CVII is a lich that has, supposedly been in power for, roughly, a thousand years by the time the events of Baldur's Gate 3 happen. She upholds the teachings, protocols, and ambitions of her originator and predecessors yet has no known heirs (blood relative or otherwise).

My crazy idea is that Vlaakith CVII is actually Vlaakith I... and all other holders of the 'title' before her have just been Vlaakith. Vlaakith is too vain and ambitious to let something like death get in her way and likely sought every means possible to buy herself the time she needed to achieve her ultimate ambition; Godhood.

Vlaakith's insanity is well in line with the 'canon' behavior of liches, especially 'long-lived' ones. Now, she is just a creature driven by the all-consuming desire to ascend and achieve the ultimate power by any means necessary.

Ascending to divinity/godhood in D&D is... not very clear. The primary factor is faith, as a god needs followers to thrive and derive power from. By controlling the githyanki in all aspects of life, establishing castes like the Inquisitors to hunt down and silence dissenters, sealing Prince Orpheus within the Astral Prism (and infernal chains), using Gith's name and 'sacrifice' as a catylst to keep the people's devotion on herself... but this is a slow process so Vlaakith also encouraged and regulates the militaristic structure of githyanki society to produce powerful warriors that she can, later, consume and sacrifice in her spam-casting of the Wish spell and whatever other means she uses those poor souls for (aside from the husks she keeps)

So, how and why does Lae'zel factor into all of this?

Literally, this is all because of one dialogue line Vlaakith gives in Act 3 of Baldur's Gate 3: Promising to make Lae'zel Baht Vlaakith, the Commander of Dragons; her Chosen (despite having no true divine power). She offers Lae'zel's greatest ambition; to be Kith'rak, to ascend beyond even the standards of her people and serve at Vlaakith's feet.

Weird thing to say to someone you can just Thanos-snap from existence, which Vlaakith does if your party refuses to comply with her at Creche Y'llek. (Seriously, this woman will waste a Wish on you just to remove the entire party from existence for 'waving hello' at her)

Vlaakith has determined Lae'zel as her 'heir' and needs her to return so that she may possess/control her (either through the use of spells like Domination or something more sinister, like excising her soul and possessing her body; no clue if liches can do this). I believe some githyanki that held the title of 'Vlaakith' were simply thralls to Vlaakith I, enhancing her duplicity to make it seem like the title passes on between individuals (despite having NO information on how this is determined within githyanki society).

The only other 'brain worm' I have about why Vlaakith attempts to bargain with Lae'zel one more time about killing Orpheus instead of, I dunno, simply Wish-murder the party, is there is something important about Lae'zel that not even the githyanki herself is aware of. Not to the degree of a psionic null zone but perhaps something Vlaakith has been nurturing through controlled breeding to accelerate her consumption of power... or as an offering to Tiamat.

Hells, if you talk to Withers in the Epilogue about the fate of a Vlaakith aligned Lae'zel... he says she's just gone. Her soul no longer exists.

A fate worse than death and Lae'zel went to it, oblivious.

Yep, there it is... more cracked brainworm thoughts for Baldur's Gate 3.

I'm also not a fan of Vlaakith but hey, I feel like there needs to be way more depth and analyzing some of this stuff my brain just does on its own.. and it fuels my fan-fic writing (which you should totally check out)

I hope folks are enjoying my insane ramblings.