#this tracks with the book timeline

[imakemywings]

Queen Under the Mountain

Fandom: The Hobbit

Characters: Dis, Dain

Summary: Dain and Dis discuss the future ruling of Erebor. Dis struggles with her losses.

For @khazadweek day 5: “Erebor”! Thank you to the mods for putting this event together, it’s been great to see some more Dwarf content! This was a great idea (^・ω・^ )

Signy is Gloin’s wife/Gimli’s mother and @lesbianhaleth‘s OC!

AO3 (author’s notes here) | Pillowfort

___________________________________________________________

           He had offered her the crown.

            They sat on a cold stone bench on a flat stretch of rock jutting out from the mountain, with the winter wind rolling in and rouging her cheeks, making furious posies of Dáin’s perpetually red face, and he offered again.

            “It’s yours by rights, if you want it,” he admitted, which was more than she had expected from her cousin. “Tell the truth, I was surprised not to hear from you…”

            Dís did not respond. She had not responded to any of the letters that had reached her since Balin and Óin had returned to the Blue Mountains to tell the story of the quest for the Lonely Mountain. Weeks she’d had to consider what to say to him, convinced herself that when the time came it would just come to her—and now she sat on the mountainside of the home she’d lost and knew no more what to say than she had when she’d first opened the letter.

            “I have no heir,” she said simply, flatly, a hollow, thorned statement that echoed around inside her breast. There was a long stretch of silence where Dáin had at least grace enough not to suggest she could bear another.

            Fíli and Kíli had already been interred when the Dís’ travel party had finally arrived in Erebor. They had all paid their respects and Dís had cut her beard in mourning, and now the wind was chilly through the short hair on her chin. On the ground, a party was moving crates and chattels into the kingdom—thus far it had been a task relocating everyone in, but the upside was that there was plenty of space. Further in the distance were the ruins of Dale, which had been buzzing with Men making repairs when Dís’ and her companions had passed by, keeping far enough away not to converse.

            She heard Dáin take the breath to at length break the silence with the obvious solution to the heir issue, and she interrupted.

“No, that won’t do,” she said. Dáin fell silent, fidgeting. Once, Dís had found his boisterous personality entertaining and pleasantly lively. She let the silence reign another moment more and then she said, “Back home—back in the Blue Mountains, that is—they’ll be finishing up preparing the fields for winter. Ladies there’ll be setting down with the heavy loom for their long projects—the ones they’ve been putting off all year. Plenty of time to do them now, with everyone crowded inside as much as they can be.” Dáin shifted on his seat. Dís imagined his ass was as cold as hers. “You need something to keep yourself busy with and the weaving and other things need doing, so you gather up some friends and some coffee if you’re lucky and you can all make through winter with your sanity and your projects in tact.”

           “That’s…it’s good to keep busy,” Dáin said helplessly, uselessly.

            “It’s a bit hard to focus on the detail work with such low light, especially for my eyes these days, so you’ll try to do the most delicate bits in the late morning, when the light is best, and in the evening and the night, perhaps focus on simpler repairs,” she went on. Once, perhaps, her eyes had been accustomed to dimmer surroundings—but she had spent a long time aboveground now. “And track the larder, of course, everyone gets jittery about the larder once the crops are down for the winter.”

           “Dís. This is…we need to speak of real things.” Dís exhaled long, rudely.

           “I came a long way to return to Erebor,” she said, her eyes tracking a Dwarf with a cart moving arduously along a disused dirt path on the ground below.

           “You know the heart of the Iron Hills bleeds for your loss as well,” he said.

           “Death, and death, and death,” Dís murmured. “And where is Durin? The blood of my house waters the fields of Erebor.” How many of them had died for the sake of the Lonely Mountain? What would Thrór say?

           Dáin’s hands flexed and curled on his knees.

           “Too many good Dwarves have been lost,” he agreed. “Now that plague Smaug is gone, hopefully we will be done with this bloodshed.” Dís reached up to tug her beard before remembering she had cut it; her hand closed on empty air. Clearly Dáin hoped this would segue them back into the discussion of the throne, but Dís did not fill in the gaps.

“Princess,” he said, in Dáin’s approximation of a gentle tone. He was about as subtle as Thrór had been, with less the diplomacy. “The loss of Erebor has been great, and yours none the lesser. But the people of the Lonely Mountain need a leader; we—you and I—must decide who that will be.” He spoke civilly enough, but there was a hint of a gleam in his eyes, and Dís thought what a showing it would be to unite Erebor and the Iron Hills under a single throne. Overnight Dáin would become king of one of the greatest Dwarven kingdoms in Middle-earth.

Dís had considered the offer ever since Dáin’s letter had arrived. She had surprised herself by considering it—but she wasn’t sure if the surprise came from her reluctance or her willingness. The benefit of age, she found, was that one was so much more certain about one’s own desires. The problem was that one began to have a preoccupation with one’s legacy. For most of his life Thorin had griped and groaned about his responsibilities—his duties­, he would say in the kind of melodramatic, self-aggrandizing way that Dís and Frerin would mock behind his back—as the oldest of Thráin’s children. Now, Dís supposed, she was the eldest.

She could have excused herself on the basis of her long trip. Dwarrowdams did not travel much, if they could help it. Personally, Dís found it incredibly bothersome and entirely lacking in the comforts and reliabilities of home. Yet she was unwilling to suggest to Dáin that she was too weary to voice a decision, even to give herself a neater exit from the conversation.

“Aye, that we must,” she agreed. “And so we will.”

Without the courtesy of answering, Dís rose to her feet, gave him a gracious nod, and went back inside. Stepping in out of the wind made her shiver to suddenly feel how cold it had been out on the mountainside.

She wended her way down and inwards, towards the warmer heart of the mountain. There was a great deal still to sort out, but Dís had taken up her mother’s old room for the time being. Cleaning it up gave her something to do, as most were presently giving her a wide berth, either for respect of her grief (what they would say) or discomfort with it (what was true).

She passed by Dwarves hauling beams of wood up the stairs, pushing wheelbarrows of possessions carted in from their scattered exile down uneven halls, moving out shattered rock and other debris. The sound of their voices echoed around the stone, and for a moment Dís was comforted, that life should be brought back to Erebor, but it seemed to her she looked on it as only a viewer, not a participant, and she felt chilled again.

A level below, over a balcony, she caught sight of Signy, with a basket of golden potatoes under one arm and Gimli trotting at her heels. The lad had barely stopped talking since they arrived; seeing Erebor in person after all Fíli and Kíli’s roundly embellished tales had got him bouncing off the walls like a child. Signy tentatively raised a hand when she saw Dís looking, and Dís halfheartedly returned the gesture. Perhaps it would be generous to go and say hello—Glóin and Signy had given her their gravest condolences in the hall of the ancestors, and he had been a traveling companion of Thorin and the boys—but she couldn’t bear the thought of more conversation. She turned away sharply, as though she had business, and retired to her rooms.

As she passed the looking glass, she saw a Dwarrowdam whose once jet-black hair was liberally streaked with steel gray, with lines fanning out around the corners of her eyes, with the corners of her mouth resting downturned. Gracious, she thought. Don’t I look like Mother now?

She stirred a fire in the hearth and resumed going through her mother’s possessions for anything that could be useful elsewhere, or anything which Dís particularly desired for herself. Most of what was truly valuable was gone, save for what Smaug, in his enormity, had been unable to reach or uncover.

She could make Dáin her heir, if she wished it. Unorthodox, perhaps, but kings died without heirs. She could name Dáin and let his line carry the crown once she was gone. It wasn’t an impossible solution.

Mother’s wardrobes and dressers were nearly empty. Even as they fled, she had insisted on taking almost all of it with them, even the party gowns. What remained was moth-eaten and wore dust like a second skin; Dís threw them into a pile to examine later and see if any fabric or jewels could be salvaged for other use.

           Never since they had first fled Smaug had they ceased to sing songs of the glory and beauty of Erebor. Dís’ entire life it seemed, was colored with honeyed nostalgia for their lost home and the burning coal of assurance that some day they would have it back. But Thorin had been not yet a man when they lost the mountain and Dís younger still—and though she had never said so to him (she had confided to Víli), her memories of it had grown rough and dim. Already she had seen things she thought she had remembered were wrong. Erebor was a hazy, sentimental vision of her youth and childhood, but the things which stood out the most—her aunt’s laugh and her grandfather’s booming voice and the whispering of her brothers on either side of her at the feasting table—were gone forever. She felt like a child denied a promised gift, and like a child she wanted to throw a fit. Where was the warmth of memories bloomed to life to welcome her back into a cozy fold and wipe away all the struggles of her adulthood? It was foolish to even for a moment think that was what Erebor would be—but hadn’t she expected it, a little bit? Had she not expected that she and Thorin and Fíli and Kíli would take their place as the royal house of Erebor once again and somehow—somehow—everything would go smoother than it had before?

           So Erebor, in the end, was just a city. A half-ruined memory of what her people had once been; what her family had once been. Now Dáin was here to sit the throne because her house sat in rubble and she would lift no hand to rebuild it. Perhaps she was selfish. Perhaps her brothers would chastise her; perhaps Father would gaze on her with that lip-curling look of disappointment; perhaps Mother would frown at her as if she should know better; perhaps her sons would be aghast. But they were all gone, and so she felt their opinions did not carry much weight—and she would have told them so, if they were there to hear it.

           “I suppose mine is the only opinion which counts now,” she said aloud, to smugly triumph over the silent voices around her.

           There was a crack of the glass cup in Dís’ hand, but she did not let go; she squeezed until she felt the wetness of blood against the heel of her hand and the shattered glass crumpled into shards, forcing her to relax her grip. For a moment, she stared down at it, then fell back into a stiff-backed armchair, depositing the bloody mess on the side table. She’d have to check the carpet for glass pieces now.

           Still, she waited for someone to reprimand her for even thinking to surrender her family’s inheritance.

           But the room was silent.

           Hers was the only opinion that counted.

***

           Dís found Dáin in the great hall at breakfast with his family and a few handfuls of his troops, alongside Balin and Dwalin. Without preamble, she reached into her hair for the braid that bore the mark of the princess—an exquisitely-wrought ladder of silver beads inlaid with pearl, imported at eye-popping cost from the Elves by the sea, and formerly worn by her mother—and with her pocketknife, shore it off. She dropped the lock of hair, beads and all, on the table beside Dáin’s trencher.

           “My birthright I pass to you, Dáin Ironfoot,” she said mechanically. “It is of no use to me anymore. Long live the king.”

           Dáin tried in his blustering way to thank her, but he did not have the knack for it, and this was what he had wanted, though he did not wish to seem it.

           “—if there is anything I can do for—”

           “I should like to choose my own house,” she responded briskly with her planned request. Having her choice of living space seemed a fair enough bargain for a crown. The dust was still settling in the scramble for available houses still in halfway livable conditions and if someone had to be moved about, that would be Dáin’s task to explain.

           “Of course, Lady Dís.”

           “Thank you, Your Majesty.”  

           “Thinking you want your old rooms back, eh?” he said jovially as he took his seat.

           “Blessed Mahal, no,” she said. “The royal apartments are yours, now. I should like something more out of the way. I will collect my things.”

           “Leave it, Dís,” said Dáin. “It will be taken care of; only tell me where you’d like it taken.” For a moment she thought to protest, then considered how much she really wanted to make ten trips carting all her things to a new home, and nodded brusquely.

           She turned towards the door, to go, but Dáin leaned after her.

           “Here, now, won’t you join us for breakfast?” he asked.

           “No, I’ve not much of an appetite,” she said. “Carry on.” She left Dáin with his men at the table and drifted out of the hall where she had once scampered about in fine skirts to the consternation of servers preparing for the evening’s festivities, amusing herself by observing the adults’ antics, until some family member or courtier shooed her out.

She went instead to the tombs of her ancestors, and pressed her hands to the nameplates of her sons. What was this grief, of one who lingers on when her time is done? Her family had all gone home to Mahal and here she sat, listening to grains of sand fall through the hourglass, wondering if he had forgotten about her.

In the darkness, Dís bowed her head against the stone coffins of her babies, beside the empty space where her husband was to be reinterred when they had the time (though no one phrased it quite like that), beside the empty space where she herself would one day lie, and thought that if emptiness could kill, she would do well to crawl into that berth now.

Nearby, under a chandelier of unlit candles, lay the empty space which had been meant for Frerin, and locked up tight with fistfuls of jewels and a golden crown was Thorin, who had gone the way of Grandfather in the end, so Dís had heard. The Dwarves in his vanguard had shouted over each other to assure her he had had a clear head at the last, that he had died fighting side-by-side with her boys, which she knew they meant to be a comfort. He was surrounded now by the empty spaces where ought to have lain the family who had died away: Mother and Father and Grandfather and too many others who had been lost since they had left Erebor.

After so long abroad, in strange lands, in poverty, in want, in longing, among suspicious strangers, she had come home from her exile to find that everyone else had gone, and left her an empty house to reclaim.

She thought of the house in the Blue Mountains which she had left behind, with its toasty hearth and tapestries woven by her and her friends, with the spot in the study doorway where Víli had marked Fíli and Kíli’s growth, and the bed she’d woken up in morning after morning for near a hundred years with the little crack in the wall just below the blue pattern Mother had painted in a horizontal stripe around the room.

The weight of birthright felt cold on her head; ancestral legacy was bitter on her tongue. As she stood before the graves of her sons and her brothers, the cloak of victory was threadbare and ragged.

But such was the bequest she had purchased.

[cuntela]

if he didn't end up on the podium he'd blow the whole place up in the air

[turnthepagevn]

Hey, hey, Robin, hey-

Why don't spiders go back to school? Because they learn everything on the web.

"The pandemic hit us all hard, I think. Wait, is this the timeline where that happened?"

[warlordfelwinter]

i like the idea of rain romancing gale bc rain has an 8 intelligence so it's just going to be gale saying weird shit like "a lost soul spelunking through the darkness that is me" and rain's just going to stare at him

[james-stark-the-writer]

I love being insane and rambling/loredumping for over an hour in a voice note about a niche thing in the lore/world of my nonexistent book that will probably never come up and is probably not important to the story at all that I know of because I haven't really started writing it yet besides two chapters and some snippets that were like a few years ago because I cannot be bothered to do research for a different WIP that is not even past the basic stages (the real inciting incident hasn't even happened) bc it's not a current priority before finishing the first draft that I have been working on for the last four years or the first draft of the other WIP I've been working on since the year two thousand and sixteen.

[athalantan]

Honestly??? $100 says Gale didn't even know who El was when they first met. This was during a period where El was driven literally barking mad by casting even the smallest spells, was widely believed dead, and was thus keeping as low of a profile as possible. They still traveled and did what they could, but by god it was not much. So y'know. Like as not Gale didn't learn that old wizard he met when he was eight who gave him good advice about his fireball spell was THE Elminster until decades later.

[miracle-wonder-magic]

Quick draft about book releases and events in the near future because I can't keep track

June - Book Week in Hungary - I need to buy the first two books in the Before the Coffee Gets Cold series by Kawguchi Toshikazu - The Running Grave by Robert Galbraith gets released in paperback. Already pre-ordered. Made my brother purchase it. Lol.

July - Tokyo Noir by Jake Adelstein gets released. Already pre-ordered

September - Book five in the Before the Coffee Gets Cold series gets released. I need to pre-order it after Book Week in case I can't find the first two books there - The sequel of The House in the Celurean Sea gets released - New Percy Jackson book release!

November - The City and Its Uncertain Walls by Haruki Murakami gets released. Already Pre-ordered.

[lycocarpum]

i forget how much ive actually done on the novel bc i am NOT a liner writer, so while ive published about 50k words, theres around 80k+ in the document from all over the place

[toadeyes-miqote]

G'raha what have you done?

You created a time paradox! You can't go changing the future like that!..... Oh wait.... I guess that's where he went after he went to sleep..."

-------

When you realized you're a bit player in someone else's timeline. Apparently there are three characters trying to change history. I only caught the obvious one who was a fellow bard. And he's the Heterochromia G'raha

Is G'raha trying to retrieve the chunkiest shard of Azem?

Don't know if the three of them(and a Nanamo) are related. Am running my roulettes

[dollypopup]

I truly cannot overstate just how much I adore Colin Bridgerton as a male love lead, and how important his story is, in particular in a current, modern reading. We live in a time of alpha male machismo that in many ways mirrors the sexism of the historical time period Colin is in, and we have a hero who explicitly rejects it. More than that, we have a hero who first tries on the persona, first tries to fit in, and then determines, with no outside influence and all on his own, that it's wrong. That he doesn't want to be like the men of his society, that he doesn't like the expectation of sex without love and commitment and connection, that he doesn't want to be 'one of the boys', even if it comes at their derision.

Because when Violet says he has always been her most sensitive child, when he has always considered others before himself, when he has always offered a joke or a moment of levity- for so long, he felt he had to. That there was no other choice.

Colin Bridgerton, The Great Pretender, is finally coming into the light.

Take my hand. Come walk with me.

Colin's arc is incredibly clear, and incredibly dear to me. We can track his progress throughout the seasons he has been in, but if we consider his backstory, it comes even more in clarity.

Piecing together a timeline with some influence from the books and loose historical accuracy, Colin loses his father at 12 and then is sent off to Eton. And he is a tiny thing when his father passes, shorter even than his 9 year old sister, Eloise.

(Yes, I checked!! He's half a head shorter than Eloise, and an entire head shorter than Daphne. This boy is SMALL)

So it makes a lot of sense to me that this is the start of his fake-it-to-make-it personality. He cannot grieve with his family in these circumstances, he's been sent off to school with other boys who are bigger and stronger than him, and he must realize relatively quickly that weakness in their eyes will never be tolerated. In fact, Eton was well known for corporal punishment and bullying during this time. Older boys were well known to mistreat the younger once, and considering just how small and soft-hearted Colin is, and just how vulnerable he is having lost his father-

Of course Colin would become a target of such.

And despite that, we meet him in Season 1 with an endearing earnestness and hopefulness in the world. Something inside him, something sweet and gentle and warm, thrives to live. And fights against grief to do so. How easy it would have been for him to lose his father and be bitter. How easy for him to see his father die from the steps of Aubrey Hall, to be sent to a boarding school away, and withdraw in on himself.

And yet, he doesn't.

At least, not in the way one would suspect. Instead, Colin becomes a chronic people pleaser. If the people around him are happy, then he will be safe. Will not be hurt. And they have no space for his own hurt, regardless. There's hardly even any space for his mirth, as most people didn't even reply to his letters on his travels the previous season.

In Colin's confession in Season 3, he says 'I have spent so long trying to feel less', and this numbing begins early in his life. He's a consummate gentleman in Season 1. He does everything by the book, everything as he should. He wants to be accepted in his society, wants to be taken seriously, wants to belong. So he sees a pretty woman, and he gets along with her well enough, and he courts her. Openly, honestly, in full view. It isn't a heart-stopping love, but he has numbed himself for years at this point, so affection will do, and if proper men of his society are married, well, maybe he'd finally be taken seriously.

And yet, no one notices him, even still. No one except Penelope. His own mother doesn't recognize his behavior, and worries for him after she does. How long has it been since she's actually seen him? We know from the show that he's incredibly close to his mother, and loves her dearly, but we also know that after Edmund's passing, Violet was mired in grief and post-partum depression. Colin misses much of this as a firsthand witness since he's at school, but that doesn't mean he wouldn't be able to tell, wouldn't be affected by losing his mother and father in one fell swoop. In fact, Colin loses his connection to the majority of his family in being sent to school so soon after the tragedy. So of course he comes back and he tries not to make waves. Tries to do things correctly.

His friction with Anthony proves time and time again that nothing he does is entirely ever able to fully please him, and this causes contention in their brotherly bond. Of all the siblings, Anthony is arguably the most harsh with Colin. And he is also the model for who a man should be in the family, as the head of the family.

So when Anthony sees Colin earnestly try to marry, he scoffs him off. Accuses Colin of only wanting to marry to have sex, and then claiming "It is my fault. I should have taken you to brothels." This is the first on-screen shaming of Colin looking for connection before sex, and Colin doubles down. He wants to marry for love.

But he doesn't actually love Marina. Neither of them truly know each other, and so when it all blows up, and he is humiliated to the entirety of his community, Colin gets his first taste of romantic failure. He tried to do it right, and it ended more wrong than he could have ever imagined. So, maybe Anthony was right. Maybe he is just a foolish, green boy, who has no idea how to go about things. The fallout of his failed engagement echoes in the persona he puts on in Season 3, and the choices he undergoes during them. Is it any wonder he ends up going to brothels to have unfulfilling sex if even his own BROTHER, the head of his family, tells him to do so?

It doesn't happen right away, though. Despite the fact that no one truly checks on him or sees how this breakup effects him (Eloise dismisses the hurt he must feel in light of such events with an honestly rather accurate wave-away "Men are always less affected", and that is true), it is evident that he is NOT okay.

We leave Colin in Season 1 putting on a mask, a happy face to his family, a 'you inspired me' to Penelope, and then spends his travels sad. Depressed. Taking drugs to try to ease his mind, occupying himself with writing to Penelope. In Season 2, he spends the entirety of it trying to be useful. And he does this with Penelope. He feels deeply for her, he cares so much for her, and he even says it to her aloud 'You are special to me' and 'I will always look after you' and how he could never give her up. Season 2 is a season of healing for Colin- he closes his chapter with Marina with a relationship post-mortum conversation after he does a wellness check to make sure she's alive (let's be real here, no one else was going to reach out to her. She made it clear to him that even her own father didn't want her), makes amends with Will, proves himself useful to Penelope, and departs on a high: he thinks he threaded the needle. He thinks he was successful sending Jack off, that he made Penelope happy, and that he's in with The Boys.

But whilst the person he is around Penelope is genuine, the person he is around these men are not. We know from Season 3 that they don't actually like him. They make snide, underhanded comments toward him, and laugh at him. I stand by the idea that end of season 2 is Fife and Co. laughing at Penelope AND laughing at Colin. They don't care about their friendship, they're teasing him for caring about her so openly, and Colin is protective of the relationship he has with Penelope. So he makes a comment for the boys, and puts on his mask. 'I would never court Penelope Featherington' (look, I'm just like you. I walk like you, talk like you, speak like you) 'Not in your wildest fantasies, Fife' (I am one of you one of you one of you- so why does it feel so hollow?)

He gets, now, his first taste of acceptance from them. They come to him to Mondrich's bar, he repays his slight against him, and he feels he is one of them. (Does he truly *want* to be one of them?) And so when we open Season 3, it's a smooth progression.

Colin is walking the walk and talking the talk, and yet his heart isn't in it. He's not one of these smarmy men, but he mimics them. Their behavior. In part, at least. Whilst Fife is out preying on 18 year old women in coat closets, Colin is telling gaggles of girls how pretty they are and how with such nice dresses, they're sure to find a husband. He makes it clear he's not an option, but that he doesn't mind being a fantasy. And Luke Newton does an amazing job making that clear: there are three sides of Colin. The Colin portrayed to his society in the light in good company (1) and the Colin portrayed to his society in the dark, in. . .less savory circles (aka: The Lads)(2), his 'armor' as his mum calls it. And finally, the most important but the one kept closest to the chest: the Colin of truth. The Colin who cries alone in his room after a breakup, the Colin who doesn't burden others with his feelings, the Colin who writes to Penelope, the Colin who loves deeply and feels deeply.

But his society has no use for a man like the real Colin, they do not *want* a man like real Colin, so he puts it under lock and key. And so much of this is centered around his feelings about sex, so here comes my 'Colin is Queer' soapbox. Colin does not experience sexual attraction like the rest of the men of the ton. He is expected to find it casual and be cavalier about it. To just want to fuck for the sake of fucking. But Colin needs love and romance and connection to actually enjoy sexual interactions. Nowadays, we recognize this as being on the asexual spectrum, of being demisexual, but he didn't have words for that in the time period he's in, so he has to forge ahead to figure himself out without a community identity to find solidarity with. That's what makes the brothel scenes so interesting as a narrative device: in the first, he's masking even in the midst of it, and in the second, he can't. After kissing Penelope, he finally, for the first time in his life, has a sexual interaction that means something to him.

It's the first one he truly enjoys, and the first one that feels right to him. It clicks for him that oh, that's what it's meant to be like. And the strain of that realization whilst still having to be what his society expects of him puts immense stress on his shoulders. You see how he grows more and more uncomfortable about the conversations, until finally he rejects it outright.

Even when it's very much not encouraged for him to do so. He's even told "You are much more fun this season." That's why he hides himself. From near everyone, even his family, even his brothers. It's telling how Anthony's positive interaction with Colin is when they're at the club, and Anthony praises him for his most recent attention. Have we seen much of Anthony being proud of Colin, otherwise? Not really. So he's reinforced in his persona. Doesn't boast of his travels because it didn't have anyone liking him for it, before. Doesn't even say how many cities he's gone to. Except with Penelope.

In the books, there's a line about their kiss, referencing how his world will never be the same. And it won't be. Because when Colin says that she helps him see the world in new ways, it's in a multitude of meanings.

Penelope refuses to let him wear the mask, because in truth, Penelope is the only one who doesn't like it. Not only does she see the real Colin, but she enjoys the real Colin. Whilst everyone else is simpering over Colin's new look and attitude, rejects who he is in reality, Penelope dismisses it, wants the person she knows him to be instead. It's only when he strips down the facades that Penelope allows him into her life again. And her Whistledown article was harsh, but it was also true. He *is* masking. He *is* putting on a persona and a role. But she was wrong when she asked if Colin even knows which is real: Colin knows very well which is real. And he also knows the realities of him haven't been accepted.

When Colin tells Penelope charm can be taught, he speaks from experience. When he says 'living for the expectations of others is a trap' it is because he has already fallen into it, and if he can't dig himself out, maybe he can keep her from it. Colin tells her 'you do not need lessons' and that she is fine exactly as she is, because just as she sees the real him and loves him, he sees the real her, and loves her, too. But they both live in the constraints of their society, and so they both put on the masquerade. Even sometimes to hide from each other.

The current climax of his arc is when he's out with the lads, after they all go off to the brothel again, and he disassociates from the experience. Playing cards and insisting on sharing sexual exploits, to which he does not want to take part, and makes a lighthearted dig at them. 'There is no gentleman at this table'. He includes himself in that, and then clarifies. He speaks aloud for the first time to them the truth of his heart- 'Do you not ever tire of the expectation to remain cavalier about the one thing in life that holds genuine meaning? Do you not find it lonely?' Can it really only just be him?

And it is. Or, maybe it isn't, but the rest of them aren't brave enough to admit it, so they're okay in making him feel like it is, in outcasting him for being a romantic, for caring about a woman beyond what she can provide for him sexually. Colin professes he doesn't like who he's become, doesn't like the expectations for him to behave the way he has, and they laugh at him. Again. He is made fun of, again.

He goes home and he falls in his bed and he feels like he lost it all. Lost Penelope to his own advice, and lost his newfound shine in his community. But when he's faced with which one matters more to him, he chooses Penelope. Unhesitatingly.

Colin chooses to be sensitive. He chooses to be a warm-hearted, gentle man in a society that prefers sexist machismo. Act one way in the light and another in the shadows. Colin wants to live authentically, as a man he doesn't really have a role model for. He is brave and he is tender, he sees the sexism of his society and he rejects it. He sees the importance Penelope has in his life, the way she makes him feel, and he embraces her wholeheartedly. He wants love and romance, he wants connection and meaning.

Colin, The Great Pretender, sick of pretending. Colin, walking into that ballroom and giving Fife the cut direct when he invites him out. Colin, cutting into a dance in the middle of a ball between Penelope and a man the entire city knows is about to propose. Colin staring deeply into her eyes with such unfiltered longing even *Cressida* can't help but notice what's going on. Colin running off after Penelope in full view of his society, outrunning a *carriage* to see her. Begging her to let him in. Colin on his knees, all but flaying his chest open for Penelope to see his heart. Colin made a choice when that candle flickered out, and his choice was Penelope. His choice was himself. And his choice was to flip off societal expectation and to live for love, damn the consequences.

I think our own world would be a better place if modern men took his example, too. Colin Bridgerton as male love lead in Bridgerton, a global show, is such a refreshing, wonderful example. A man who tried to be like what the world wanted, and who decided to go against the gender norms of his time. A man who prioritizes the woman he loves, who risks ridicule in doing so and comes to realize that he doesn't care. He doesn't care anymore about being one of the boys, one of the lads, one of the guys. Fuck his society if his society can't recognize the beauty of what he feels with Pen. He cares about being the best self he can be. And that best self is around Penelope, inspired by Penelope.

Because how he is with Penelope? God, I could swoon. At every turn, he prioritizes her comfort and personhood. He validates her, he sees her in beautiful, positive light and he helps her see herself that way, too. He encourages her to be brave because he already feels she is, he refuses to let her call herself stupid or a laughingstock, he apologizes without excuses, he checks in on her every step of the way. He's so passionate in that carriage, he's burning for her, he's yearning, but he doesn't do anything until she agrees for him to. He confesses his feelings and when she says they're friends, he backs off. He listens, he cares. He apologizes for overstepping her boundaries, and then when she gives him her consent, the only thing on his mind is showing how much he wants and appreciates her by providing her pleasure. Colin, the people pleaser, dedicated only to pleasing two people in that moment: Penelope, and himself. Because he wants to do that, to give her an orgasm that exists just for her. He's a witness to it, and that's pleasure for him, too. He waits for her nod of consent, he revels in seeing her enjoying herself. And the aftercare- I could cry.

Colin is a man who had every single reason not to be a kind, sensitive soul, and still he chose it. Chose to share it because the headline, even a wallflower can bloom, that's not just for Penelope.

It's for Colin, too.

[deception-united]

Online Writing Resources #2

Vocabulary:

Tip of My Tongue: I find this very helpful when I can't think of a specific word I'm looking for. Which is often.

WordHippo: As well as a thesaurus, this website also provides antonyms, definitions, rhymes, sentences that use a particular word, translations, pronunciations, and word forms.

OneLook: Find definitions, synonyms, antonyms, and related words. Allows you to search in specific categories.

YourDictionary: This website is a dictionary and thesaurus, and helps with grammar, vocabulary, and usage.

Information/Research:

Crime Reads: Covers crime and thriller movies, books, and TV shows. Great inspiration before writing a crime scene or story in this genre.

Havocscope: Black market information, including pricing, market value, and sources.

Climate Comparison: Compares the climates of two countries, or parts of the country, with each other.

Food Timeline: Centuries worth of information about food, and what people ate in different time periods.

Refseek: Information about literally anything. Provides links to other sources relevant to your search.

Perplexity AI: Uses information from the internet to answer any questions you have, summarises the key points, suggests relevant or similar searches, and links the sources used.

Planning/Worldbuilding:

One Stop for Writers: Literally everything a writer could need, all in one place: description thesaurus, character builder, story maps, scene maps, timelines, worldbuilding surveys, idea generators, templates, tutorials... all of it.

World Anvil: Provides worldbuilding templates and lets you create interactive maps, chronicles, timelines, whiteboards, family trees, charts, and interactive tables. May be a bit complicated to navigate at first, but the features are incredibly useful.

Inkarnate: This is a fantasy map maker where you can make maps for your world, regions, cities, interiors, or battles.

Miscellaneous:

750words: Helps build the habit of writing daily (about three pages). Fully private. It also tracks your progress and mindset while writing.

BetaBooks: Allows you to share your manuscript with your beta readers. You can see who is reading, how far they've read, and feedback.

Readable: Helps you to measure and improve the readability of your writing and make readers more engaged.

ZenPen: A minimalist writing page that blocks any distractions and helps improve your focus. You can make it full screen, invert the colours, and set a word count goal.

QueryTracker: Helps you find a literary agent for your book.

Lulu: Self-publish your book!

See my previous post with more:

Drop any other resources you like to use in the comments! Happy writing ❤

Previous | Next

[deadsetobsessions]

Okay, so maybe Tim has no business being in Bludhaven. Tim maintains that since his parents fail at parenting, he can do whatever he wants.

Besides, it's for a good cause. Like, not letting Tarantula get her dirty hands on his big brother in another time line. Tarantula had popped up in the Bludhaven servers - by that, Tim means the endless amounts of threads and underground fronts for criminal activity that he stalks on a regular basis- by being seen with Nightwing. Tim had immediately booked a ride to Bludhaven and bought another burner. He'd try to take care of her himself, but if worse comes to worse, he'd call Deathstroke. He's totally aware of the weird tension Deathstroke has with Nightwing and Tim's kind of banking on that.

Dick's been back in Blud for two months now, Jason having assuaged his mother hen tendencies enough for Dick to get sick of the Manor. Tim hadn't meant to follow since he had plenty of projects to work on now that "SAVE JASON" wasn't blaring at the top of his head.

But then Tarantula appeared and Tim saw red, remembering the way Dick spoke about her and what she did to him.

He bids the driver goodbye. The driver doesn't question his being on his lonesome mainly because 1) Gothamites mind their own busines, 2) Tim gave him a $500 tip to make sure he remains a "good" Gothamite cabbie, and 3) Tim made sure he was dropped off in the swankiest, most ostentatious hotel Bludhaven had to offer.

"Rich people," the cab driver had muttered as Tim closed the door. Perfect.

Tim got his keycard, having checked in under Alvin Draper over the phone. Normally, they'd require an in person visit, but money talks. And people listened when Tim had a lot of things to say.

Tim even feels like he's trained enough to go out! Lady Shiva's training was ingrained into his memory, and Tim's built enough muscle to make use of some of it. He is still nine, after all. He's so much stealthier this time around. Plus, he's got almost his full tool set back. Sure, some of the tech is ancient, but he managed to finagle it to make grappling guns and smoke pellets more along the quality that he's used to.

Tim waits until nightfall, looping the surveillance around his window to mask his exit. Tim adjusts his domino, eyes scanning the city skyline as his handheld computer (god, he can't believe he has to invent wrist computers) tracked reports of Nightwing through Tweetings.

Ah. He's around Seventh. Tim grimaces as his untested joints adjusts to the grappling guns. His dark clothes make him hard to spot, to his advantage as he tracks down Nightwing.

Tim watches, perched on an adjacent roof as Nightwing takes down a crowd of goons with the flips Tim remembered watching from afar and up close in another timeline.

"Blockbuster'll kill everyone you love, Nightwing!"

Tim winces at the rather brutal crunch that followed, Nightwing having punched the guy and knocked him out in one move. He watches Dick sigh, tugging at his hair in stress.

Tim could... no, no. He shouldn't think of murder as a first option. Well, no, he shouldn't think of Deathstroke as a first option. But he'll need to take Blockbuster out before anything happens. And he needs to threaten the new Tarantula before anything happens. He won't allow her to even get close to Dick.

Maybe it's unfair to punish her for a crime she hasn't done, but unlike murder, rape can never be defended. Catalina Flores is a dead woman walking.

Tim stalks his big brother back home and then broke off to begin his short reign of terror over Bludhaven's underground. If he can't get Dick to take a break (and Tim's tried, a lot, over the years) then he'll make sure that the next month is as gentle as possible on his older brother.

Step 1. Murder Take care of Blockbuster

Step 2. Threaten Catalina Flores and her brother.

No. Wait. Tim has a better idea. He's got dirt on them, on top of the murder thing. He'll fabricate Catalina's tax returns, embezzle a shit ton of money from the IRS, and get her and her corrupt brother (because getting your sister out from murder charges is considered corrupt) arrested and locked away. And he'll make sure they stay locked away with some good old blackmail on Amanda Waller.

Tim grins, tranquilizing the building with an ungodly amount of knock out gas pellets, to riffle through the police precinct's files.

Step 2. Threaten Catalina Flores and her brother.

Step 2. Cripple Catalina Flores and her brother with blackmail and the IRS.

In three hours, Tim has everything he needs to begin a temporary hostile takeover. He's got the names of local mob bosses, the big players, and the names of practically every police officer that takes bribes and their... sponsors.

He'll have to cut off Blockbuster's lines of supplies first. Then, blacklist him from local suppliers, mobilize the police precinct against him (by imitating his M.O. perfectly- Tim's not a fucking amateur- and pretending to rob the precinct blind), and then break his knees.

Step 3. Profit

Tim takes out his shiny new burner phone, enjoying the loud sounds of the police squawking through his planted bugs. He lounges on the building next to it, keeping an eye out for Nightwing just in case the man decides to respond to the crisis.

[Unknown: It's RR.]

[Deathstroke: New phone?]

[RR: Who dis?]

[Deathstroke: What?]

[RR: Nevermind. I'll give you forty thousand to shoot someone's knees out.]

[Deathstroke:... That's it? Who?]

[RR: Blockbuster. Bludhaven. Extra twenty thousand if you tell him he's got the spine of a sea slug, kick him in the balls, and post it on Tweeting.]

[Deathstroke: What did he do to you? Deal.]

Tim ignored Deathstroke's question.

[RR: Half sent. Confirm?]

[Deathstroke: Confirmed. Timeline?]

[RR: Three weeks. 21 days.]

[Deathstroke: Confirmed.]

----

Tim grins ferally, all teeth as Catalina Flores looked on in horror at her computer screen.

"Get out of Bludhaven, and don't come back. If you even think of going near Nightwing, I will rip what's left of your pathetic, sniveling swine of a brother apart. You will not enjoy the consequences."

Tim clicks off, watching Catalina and her brother launch themselves into mad packing. He tapped out a short message to Amanda Waller for her and her team to intercept them at the state lines. They'll never get away from Tim's fury. Never.

[Waller: It's done.]

[Waller: I will find you.]

[RR: You can definitely try, Waller. Good doing business with you.]

Tim can see the blood vessel the woman popped after he sent that last message. He laughs.

He saves Deathstroke's video from Tweeting onto his actual, spoofed phone. He destroys the burner phone, less shiny now that he's dragged it through two and a half weeks of breaking heads and terrorizing the Bludhaven Underground. Nightwing hadn't even gotten a whiff of his activities, this Dick being far less experienced and known in this version of Blud.

One more week and Tim can continue his other projects.

----

Nightwing, going about his vigilante business: wow it sure is peaceful

Feral Tim Drake, Nightwing's scary dog privilege: try me, bitch

[theconstantsidekick]

I have so many questions for season 4

Reginald was an alien. They knew that and then they came back to life after he tried to murder them and just… never asked him about it? They were like ‘yeah cool wtv’?

How does Claire know that Klaus is immortal? Is she aware of everyone’s powers? Did Alison tell her all about her dysfunctional super family?

WHY DOES LUTHER GO SEMI APE MODE FROM THE MARIGOLD? It wasn’t a part of his original powers!

Why is the marigold they take this season janky? Like why do they get sick? Did Reginald’s wife spike it? Or was it simply that they consumed it as fully grown adults instead of being born with it?

How did Reginald control so much of the US of A?? Like his people are literally leading the charge against Jean and Gene? How?

Why did that girl break up with Viktor? What do you mean he knows? I wanna know too!

What was up with the hotel in season 3? Why did have that samurai thing? Idk I’m lost

WHO THE FUCK BUILT THE SUBWAY STATION THAT FIVE BLINKED TO? THERE WAS A MAP SO CLEARLY SOMEONE BUILT IT, right? RIGHT?

How did Five and Lila spend 7 years on that fucking train and never run across another version of Five?

Why is there a Five Doppelgänger Owned Deli in that subway station? Are we meant to understand that in several other timelines he loses his powers, ingests “janky” Marigold and then gets this specific power? Or was this part of his original power set and he just never discovered it? If so, then why was the colour his blinking aura changed to purple from his usual blue? What is happening?

How did Claire and Lila and Diego’s kids survive without ALISON, DIEGO AND LILA NEVER HAVING EXISTED? I don’t think that’s how genetics work???

Why do we only see a fucking field of the original timeline… is there nothing else in that world or…?

Does Klaus know how Ben died? Seeing as he could talk to, you know, BEN?? Did he ever tell his siblings? If not? If he too were brainwashed, did og Ben never tell him the truth?

WHO THE FUCK WAS THAT BEN ON THE SUBWAY, READING A BOOK AND WEARING GLASSES? Who was that? What was the point of seeing him in the post credit scene for season3 and then NEVER EVER AGAIN?

Why are any of them so invested in saving Sparrow Ben? He’s mostly a dick? Did they get some development off screen????

How did one version of Five establish the Commission and never hire any other version of Five than the one we saw? If he did, did he keep track of all the Fives under his employment? To make sure to avoid any paradoxes?

There is a 6 year time jump but when Viktor asks Alison if she’s double crossing them again by teaming up with Reginald, Alison categorically says, “I haven’t met the man in 5 years”…. Does that mean she used to go over to the mansion for brunch every Sunday for a year?

Where the fuck did that man with a goldfish for his head come from? Why did he have an entire body?

Why did Lila get a family but no one else did?

WHY DID JENNIFER COME OUT OF A FUCKING SQUID?

Why does Diego not have all the skills he should from all the training he was put through? Also why is he called fat the entire season only to be shown to have WASHBOARD ABS!!?

I’m sure there are logical answers to some of these but I don’t know any.

[reareaotaku]

Rev! Pine Twins vs Pine Twins [Pt I]

When Bill was destroyed, all harmony was restored in Gravity Falls

At least, that's what everyone thought. What they didn't know was a portal from another dimension opened in the middle of the woods. It wasn't discovered until many years later

Years later, the Pines twins returned to Gravity Falls as Older Teens/Young Adults

You were thrilled to see your old friends again. It seems you weren't the only one either. You and the rest of the group [Dipper, Mabel, Candy, and Grenda] went into the forest for old time sake

What you all weren't expecting was aa portal in the middle of the woods. You had seen a blue glow and not thinking you decided to go towards it

Dipper tried calling your name, but you were enchanted by the blue light

What you didn't expect was to see the portal down a hill and fall off the cliff you were on

Dipper saw and was quick to grab your hand, but you ended up slipping out of his grip and falling into the portal

The portal shut when you fell through and Dipper started to freak out

Starts having a panic attack and tracks his sister's attention. He doesn't even know how to speak and tell his sister what happened

Though, when he finally does get it out, the first idea is to ask Ford what to do

You rubbed your head when finally landing. You groaned as you pushed yourself up and looked around, confused. It was... Gravity Falls? You tried calling your friends names, but there was no answer

You push your way through the forest, before finally entering the town, only to realize something was very wrong

This was not Gravity Falls... At least, not your Gravity Falls

It was different... The first thing that gave it away was a big sign that said 'Gleeful Twins Tent of Telepathy'

"Yeah... That's not right."

You went through the town, because this universe had to have a Ford and maybe he could help you

You were brought to a large tent that had people pouring in

Imagine your surprised when you bumped into a taller male and when you went to apologize it was-

"Dipper?"

His surprised outweighted yours, though. "Y/n?" He shook his head. "no, no."

You looked around before shaking your head, "No, that's me. But I'm not from here."

"Not... from here?"

"Yes! I was in the forest with my friends and I saw this porta-"

"Okay. Okay. I'll help you."

"Really?"

"Of course."

Little did you know, that the version of you died a few years back, along with some other town's people and there was no way Dipper Gleeful was going to help you leave. He had already lost you once, he wasn't going to lose you again

"And- And she fell through this portal!" Dipper was finally able to get out.

Ford hums, rubbing his chin, before going to his books. "Ahh, yes. She probably jumped through an alternate universe. We just have to find out when one and get her back... We just have to find a timeline that has an anomaly."

[truly-sincerely]

Even More Comprehensive BG3 Timeline

(Now with citations!) Years in (paren) are confirmed, all other lines are approximations. For my own sanity this timeline is based on available in-game information and not the Forgotten Realms at large.

1450s

Enver Flymm born

Gale Dekarios born (1457)

Enver Flymm sold to Raphael by his parents, renamed Gortash

Gortash learns about Crown of Karsus while a prisoner of Raphael

Karlach Cliffgate born

1460s

Gortash escapes the House of Hope

Gale Dekarios summons Tara the Tressym (1467)

Wyll Ravengard born (1468)

1470s

Lae’zel of K’liir born (1470)

Gortash in his Heapside Reavers period

Gortash rebrands as a black market arms dealer

Orin the Red born to Helena and Sarevok Anchev

Durge begins their serial killing spree in Baldur’s Gate (1477)

The Emperor dominates Duke Belynne Stelmane (1479)

1480s

Elminster resurrects Mystra (1480)

Gortash trades Karlach to Zariel for infernal machines & iron (1482)

Baldur’s Gate’s Beloved Ranger statue goes missing (1482)

Duke Abdel Adrian murdered during Returning Day speech (1482) - Bhaal resurrected - Ulder Ravengard replaces Adrian as Marshall and as Duke

Orin kills her mother Helena in self-defense

Gortash recruits Franc Peartree to distribute infernal iron weapons

Gortash establishes a cult of Bane in Baldur’s Gate

Gortash approaches Durge about an alliance

Gortash moves against the Zhentarim & Knights of the Shield

Ulder Ravengard named Grand Duke

Wyll Ravengard pact with Mizora, leaves Baldur’s Gate (1485)

Dead Three made aware of the Crown of Karsus (most likely informed by Gortash)* - Gortash becomes Bane’s Chosen - Durge becomes Bhaal’s chosen - Gortash & Durge are instructed to recruit Ketheric

Gortash tells Durge about Crown of Karsus (via correspondence)

Hall/House of Wonders test mission* - Durge gets Bhaalist memorabilia - Gortash gets a bunch of Gondian designs - Durge & Gortash get companionship

1490s

The Chosen visit Ketheric at Moonrise, learn about Illithid colony

Gortash & Durge visit the House of Hope (for intel on Mephistar?)

Gortash & Durge raid Mephistar - They get the Crown of Karsus - They get the book on the accelerated grand design

Gortash captures the Emperor

Gortash & Durge return to Moonrise - Their identities are kept secret from Ketheric’s people - Durge impresses the Moonrise Gnolls, but not Steelclaw - Ketheric yells at Durge in the throne room for an unknown reason

Durge proposes their plan to the Elder Brain who accepts

Raid on the illithid colony (1491) - Durge puts the Crown on the Elder Brain - Orin gets Durge alone during the raid & stabs them in the head - Orin tadpoles Durge, making them the first True Soul - Orin declares herself the Chosen of Bhaal

1492

Durge is found by Kressa Bonedaughter

Minsc captured by Absolutists at a recruitment rally in the Undercity

Gortash gets weird and intense with unethical experiments - Some futzing to get the tadpoles to consistently remain in stasis - This is when the name ‘True Souls’ gets coined - Extremely questionable fun with brains - Getting the Absolute’s voice sorted out - Tadpoling his parents - Poorly conceived experiments on children & their parents

Gortash has Iron Throne converted to hold hostages

Gortash presents prototype Steel Watcher to the city council

Jaheira tracks cult to shadow-cursed land, meets Isobel

Minthara Baenre is 'recruited' by Orin and Ketheric

The Descent, Elturel fall into Avernus happens

Duke Vanthampur revealed as a diabolist, killed by adventurers

Guild Bursar Uktar launders money for Gortash’s Campaign funds

Isobel is resurrected by the Dead Three

The Elder Brain sends the Chosen dreams about the Astral Prism

Gortash researches the Prism, finds out that Vlaakith has it

Gortash tasks Ketheric with sending a team to get the Astral Prism - They send a nautiloid piloted by the Emperor and other illithid - The Elder Brain lets the Emperor slip its leash - Magthew Budj arranges for Durge to be on the nautiloid as well

Gortash deploys Steel Watch in Lower/Outer City

At this point Elturel is no longer in Avernus

First Druid Halsin captured by goblins

Nautiloid picks up Shadowheart & the Prism from Astral Plane

Nautiloid picks up Lae’zel

Nautiloid goes to Baldur’s Gate, picks up Gale & Astarion

Nautiloid goes to Avernus, picks up Karlach & Wyll

Nautiloid crashes, (20 Eleasis, 1492)

Some helpful links:

A page from Sarevok’s book: Sarevok - (Murder tribunal)

Accelerated Grand Design: Gortash - (Gortash's Office)

An Offer: Gortash - (Peartree basement)

Aquatic Labor: Gortash - (Flymm’s Cargo Basement)

Baldur’s Gate Temple of Bhaal: Yanthus - (Gortash’s Office)

Balthazar’s Notes: Balthazar - (Necrotic laboratory)

Clasped Book: Balthazar - (Balthazar’s chambers)

Devil’s Fee Observer’s Report**: Himberloo - (Nine-Fingers’ office)

Elder Brain Domination: Ketheric/Yanthus - (Ketheric’s Room)

Enhanced Weapons - Sales Ledger: Peartree - (Peartree basement)

Experiment on Cruor: Orin - (Temple of Bhaal)

How To Build a Watcher: deceased Gondian - (Steel Watch foundry) 

Journal of Enver Gortash: Gortash - (Gortash’s Office)

Magical Histories: Volume 2: The Spellplague: unknown - (Sorcerous Sundries)

Memoir Notes with Recent Addenda: Gortash - (Gortash’s office)

Missive from Gortash: Gortash - (Ketheric’s room)

Missive from Ketheric: Ketheric - (Moonrise, 2nd floor)

Mistress of Souls’ Research Log: Kressa - (Mind flayer barracks)

My Gratitude: Gortash - To Peartree (Peartree basement)

Next Steps: Gortash - (Gortash’s office)

Prayer for Forgiveness: Durge - (Necrotic laboratory)

Scrapbook of Letters: Gortash/Durge - (Flymm’s Cobblers)

Special Operations - Infernal Arms: Uktar - 

Studies of the Elder Brains: Gortash/Yanthus - (Gortash’s Office)

Suspended Ceremorphosis: Gortash/Yanthus - (Tadpoling center)

Test Mission with Gortash: Durge - (Temple of Bhaal)

The Astral Prism Heist: Gortash - (Gortash’s office)

The Dukes of Baldur’s Gate: unknown - (Baldur’s Mouth/Peartree’s house)

The Grand Design: Gortash/Yanthus - (Mind flayer colony)

The True Life of ‘Lord’ Gortash: a skeleton - (Wyrm’s Rock Prison)

The Ultimate State: Gortash - (Gortash’s office/Flymm’s Cobblers)

*an in-game contradiction between Gortash and Durge. See: ‘Test Mission with Gortash’ and ‘Memoir Notes with Recent Addenda’. I’ve placed it after, but there’s also a legitimate argument to be made that Gortash and Durge met and became allies much earlier, possibly around the same time as Gortash’s betrayal of Karlach

Additionally, the House of Wonders (church/workshop) and the Hall of Wonders (museum) are two different buildings in the Upper City. Durge writes that the Hall is their target, while Gortash writes that the House is their target. It is my opinion that they hit both locations.

**no link cuz the bg3.wiki doesn’t have it??

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - forced marriage, unhealthy relationships, possessive behavior, and border-line shitpost energy.

It is common knowledge that Lord Scaramouche, Sixth Harbinger of the Snezhnayan Fatui, the nationally acclaimed and universally feared Balladeer, does not like to share his toys.

The timeline of your relationship should be proof enough of that -courted after only a handful of chance encounters during his time in your humble village, married as quickly as he could find an alter and an officiant willing to misinterpret your frantic sobbing as an 'I do', hastily locked away in an estate populated solely by masked guards and servants under strict instruction not to speak a word to you - but, if there was a soul in Teyvat who dared to ask for more evidence, you would happily point them towards the smoldering remains the book that you'd been too caught up in to keep track of one of his frequent one-sided rants, the patch of sand and stone that had once been the flower garden you lavished with all of the love and attention you'd withheld from him. He's as savage as he is predictable. His precious things, from his vast collection of porcelain dolls to the ancient sword that he keeps hidden in a velvet-lined box in his study, are safely stowed away, while yours are swiftly and mercilessly destroyed.

If there's something you'd like to keep, it has to be bargained for. You'll spend weeks singing his praises and cuddling up to his side, cooking all his favorite meals by hand (much to the distress of his small legion of private chefs) and letting him speak at length about the bloody, visceral vengeance he plans to rain down upon his countless enemies. It's only when you have him content and assured of your love for him that you pounce.

His lips purse, eyes narrowing. "No."

"Please, my lord." You lean forward, clasping your hands over your lap. "Won't you at least try to consider it?"

"Absolutely not." His tone is surprisingly haughty, especially considering his current position; head resting on your thighs, gaze pointed at some indistinguishable point on the far wall as you rake your fingers through his hair. "You expect me to strain my staff and myself just so you can... what? Visit your sister for a few boring days?"

"Her son is turning five, and she just had her first daughter. I thought it might be nice to see how she's doing and lend her a hand."

He scoffs. "You expect me to be so patient with you and yet, here you are, practically begging me to let you run off to the countryside just to see another man."

"Surely, you aren't denying my request because you're jealous of an infant."

"No. Whatever. Be quiet." If you didn't know better, you would think he's pouting. "My answer hasn't changed. I can't afford to spare that much thought on such a petty errand, not with the Tsaritsa as demanding as she is."

You hum, letting your head lull to the side. "You know," A weighted pause, your nails scraping against his scalp. "Her home isn't as... accommodating as yours. Her only spare room was converted into a nursery some years back, so we'd have to stay at an inn."

His lips quirk downward, unimpressed. "And?"

"And, there's only one in my village. It's quite a meager thing, too. Even this time of year, there's only going to be a few rooms available." Your touch lingers near the nape of his neck. "I know I usually insist on separate bedrooms, but given the circumstances, there's a good chance neither of us will be able to be so selfish."

There was a beat of silence, then another. You think, for a moment, that Scaramouche might be holding his breath, but you quickly remember that he doesn't breathe at all.

Finally, he responds. "A few days would make for a pathetic visit. Tell her that we'll be staying for a month."

As savage as he is predictable. That's all you could expect from your husband, wasn't it?

You lean down, pressing a fleeting kiss into his temple. "As you wish, my lord."