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Discussions of SA ahead. My read here is firmly based on what we have in the game and official D&D books, but it is still purely headcanon and hypothesis.
My read is that Hope and Korilla were sold to Raphael as children or very young adults. Raphael's obsession with her as I see it is, as you say, less carnal and more of an obsession with breaking her after so many years of resistance. Frankly, given what we do know about her treatment, I find it likely that he has used rape as a method of torture, but was just another tool to him. Ultimately, he is a devil, and his relationship to sex is going to be very different from that of a mortal.
Hope is a Life-domain Cleric, although for the life of me I cannot find out what her God is. Here's what the PHB says about Clerics:
The gods don't grant this power [divine magic] to everyone who seeks it, but only to those chosen to fulfill a high calling (56).
I really think that Hope was sold, put up impressive resistance to Raphael and her sister, and was granted divine magic by some god to fulfill such a calling.
I mean, think about it: What does Hope do once she is freed? Does she return to the Material Plane and live a quiet life in recovery? No. She stays in Hell. She creates a foothold for the divine in a place of despair. She takes on the metaphorical and symbolic role of hope in a plane whose defining feature is hopelessness. If I were Lathander or Selûne or Bahamut, establishing a sort of safe house within the Hells would be the best way to thumb my nose at Asmodeus. Every semi-lucid soul in Avernus (Or whatever hell the House of Hope is in, I wasn't super clear on that) will be flocking to the House for relief. If they can play their cards right and fly under the cover provided by the Blood War, they can build a small and very popular army behind enemy lines. That, I think, is the ultimate purpose of Hope's resistance. It would also tie in well with the game's recurring theme of how the gods are just as shitty and manipulative as mortals.
Interesting etymology note from this nerdy linguist: Korilla's name seems to be a variant of the Latin Cor (heart) + diminutive -illa. As Latin is regularly used in the game for spells, I think we can assume that this meaning is diegetic. HOWEVER, Hope's name has an entirely different linguistic origin ("Hope" has a Germanic origin). It seems logical that one of them changed their given name at some point. Dwarves take their given names very seriously, but we do see other dwarves in-game who have clearly changed their name when they enter a god's service (Dolor, the Bhaalist serial killer). The PHB has a list of suggested dwarf names and they are all very Nordic/Germanic, a direct inheritance from Tolkien. Honestly, in terms of etymology Korilla's name is the outlier, but I think that within the game's fiction I think it makes more sense that Hope is the one who had her name changed.
Do you have much thought on the relationship between Raphael and Hope?
I do and I don't. It's a strange dynamic, and I think my particular brand of autism makes it difficult to tell what is literal and what is metaphorical between them.
On one hand, Hope is very much a living, breathing person. She has a sister, she has emotions and feelings, and it's clear the torture has taken a toll on her psyche.
On the other, she seems almost more like a concept than anything solid.
Raphael's whole shtick is whittling away hope from his targets so they feel they have literally no other options but to turn to him. You're far less likely to make a deal with a devil if you believe there are other options out there. It's a Faustian bargain by nature - you know it won't end up well, but you are desperate, so you take it.
He has entire ridiculous monologues about this. He feels so comfortable in this routine that even outright telling you what his plans are is something he doesn't feel like will threaten their feasibility.
It makes his job much, much simpler if he literally has control of hope-- or Hope.
It's difficult for me to tell how much of it is symbolic, and how much of it is very literal. It doesn't make a whole hell of a lot of sense to just kidnap a random Gold Dwarf named Hope and impress this grand duty upon her, when in reality, she has nothing to do with it.
But the 'purely symbolic' line of thought falls apart under the fact that she is an actual person.
I have no doubt there is lore that I missed there. (We kind of sped through the House of Hope just because we were anxious to get to another part.)
But it sort of baffles me why the physical concept of 'hope' would have a sister named Korrilla. Why she has memories and an embodiment-- although I could parse this through my head if it wasn't for other things.
I've seen people try and explain that Raphael has carnal feelings towards Hope, but I don't really get that vibe. That just seems like Raphael to me. That's just how he is. It was a bid for control. Carrot and stick. Torture to breaking, which seems almost worked until you managed to show up. There was very much a reason he was obsessed with this woman in particular, but I can't quite figure it out because I keep running into walls.
If anyone has anything to add here that I missed, let me know, and I'm happy to rethink it. Sorry this isn't exactly solid, but I feel like I'm very much missing pieces.
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#BG3FicFeb Day 22: Tav has to give up something important
It’s just an earring, Tav reminded herself, not for the first time. Just jewelry.
But it wasn’t. Of course it wasn’t, or else the Hag would have never demanded it.
“Come on now, sweet,” Gladys smirked. “You want to find Lord Ravengard? You must give up something of your own, that’s how these things go.” Her brown-rot grin that churned Tav's stomach. “I’m being quite generous, you know, after you killed dear old Ethel.”
“We have gold,” Gale offered. “Gems, even an ancient staff…”
She flicked a finger and he fell silent. “Hush, boy. I have no use for coin, nor human magic. Come on now, sweet, hand it over.”
Tav clutched the pearl earring in her hand. “Please,” she whispered. “It’s all I have left of home.”
“Yes, dear, I know. That’s why I’m asking for it. So much sentimental power bound up in that little stone…” She drew in a long sniff. A slimy, black tongue flicked out over her lips, leaving a sticky residue. Even from several feet away Tav could smell its putrescence. “Delicious.”
She hesitated. There was nothing else left of the family she’d once had. Parents, siblings, neighbors, friends--all wiped out in moments by the Descent. Even Elturel itself had been ripped from her, only to return changed, twisted, hateful.
“Tav,” came Wyll’s voice. It was low, raw, desperate in a way she'd never heard before. “Please. My father doesn’t have much time.”
She braced herself, and before her courage failed her she tossed it to the hag. The creature cackled as it landed neatly in her mottled palm. A sickly green glow surrounded the earring, then suffused it. It pulsed, Tav realized with horror, in time with her own panicky heartbeat. 
The hag closed her fist and the light faded into the soft green flesh. In Tav’s chest was a strange new emptiness, as if something had been carved out of her. 
The Hag sighed contentedly. “I haven’t had such a meal in years,” she said. “Come now, children. Let’s see where that horrible Duke is hiding Papa, hm?”
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Look, it's definitely not his normal inclination, but I can actually see Astarion doing some big romantic gesture type stuff. However, it's a giant red flag if he does.
Ascended Astarion? He would absolutely kick everyone else out of a restaurant to have some five-star chef personally wait on him and his guest. But it's not romantic--it's a power play. It's saying See, I can bend the city to my will for the sake of a dinner date. It's saying, I don't need chains to keep you cooperative, not when every person in this city is your jailor. It's saying I can waste all this time and all these resources on petty, hollow gestures--what do you think will happen if anyone TRULY challenges me? He'd do the same thing whether his guest is his consort or some patriar he wants to intimidate.
As a Spawn, any grand romantic gesture is a grand, flashing neon sign that the (metaphorical) demons are winning. Asto doesn't strike me as the particularly clingy type (my read is he's more inclined to self-sabotage) but if he feels he needs Tav he might be willing to do anything to keep them. I can see him panicking and falling back on what he knows--manipulation. He's already used sex in the past. Does Tav like over-the-top romance? He can do that, hells know he's played that role before. Whatever they need. Whatever means they stay. If Tav has any sense at all, they'll realize what is going on.
On a happier note, in the long-term I think smaller romantic gestures could be incorporated into their relationship as a part of the normal give-and-take. Maybe he does put a vase of tiger lilies on their dresser because he knows Tav loves them. Maybe he spends hours trying to cook something for Tav, because he'd draw all the wrong kind of attention in a restaurant but they deserve a nice meal. He'll always be very private about these things, I think, a natural reaction to his past, but with time I think he could find a healthy way to make his lover happy in his own way.
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I can't--
y’all expose yourselves and take this fanfic test i was just forced to by an irl so now i’m making you too
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Where did the tents for all the companions in BG3 come from? Mayyybe Karlach and Wyll had supplies on them when they were abducted, but there's no way Gale or Astarion had anything.
So I would like to headcanon that Withers magicked them some personalized camping gear. Like he sat down and designed them each a campsite that showed their personality.
Given that he throws a great party at the end, I wouldn't put it past him.
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Art by Susan Seddon Boulet
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Faerûnian Writing Challenge: Day 11
Prompt: Bandaging/healing each other's wounds
“Will you hold still?” Yizekah snapped at the squirming wizard. He’d taken a glancing arrow to his shoulder and the wound needed cleaning. Unfortunately, Gale was an absolute baby.
“Tch’ck. You would not have survived infancy in my crèche,” Lae’zel scoffed. Her hands were busy as always, cleaning the day’s viscera from her equipment. Wyll had taken up residence on a nearby stump and was watching the proceedings with poorly hidden amusement.
“Well, how fortunate that we’re not in your crèche, then--ow!” Yizekah wrapped her arm around his chest to hold him still before dabbing the disinfectant on the wound. He squirmed vigorously until she finally was satisfied. “That is thoroughly unpleasant, druid.”
“It wouldn’t be so bad if you just held still.” She summoned a bit of magic and threaded it into the wound, monitoring carefully as the skin scabbed, scarred, and healed. Gale let out a sigh of relief.
“Why didn’t you just heal it straight away?” Wyll asked while Gale shrugged his robes back into place. Yizekah tapped the crest of her orbital socket.
“Our little friends have limited my repertoire,” she explained. “All I can do right now are simple tissue repairs. I can’t guarantee disinfection with magic alone, and gods know you don’t want to close a contaminated wound.”
“I’m sure it will come back to you soon,” said Gale, rising to his feet. He rolled his shoulder a few times and practiced a few magical gestures. “Or at least, I hope it will.”
“It wouldn’t kill you to learn a few healing spells, wizard,” Wyll suggested. “Yizekah and Shadowheart can’t carry us all the time. At least brew a few potions.”
Gale sniffed. “My talent is in manipulating the deep power of the Weave, not running a apothecarist’s.”
Yizekah opened her mouth to shoot back, but Lae’zel beat her to it. “We are not in your towers anymore, mage. Do you think a ghaik or goblin will stay their hand out of respect for your learning?”
Gale stared at the ground for a moment. Yizekah glanced over at Wyll, who raised an eyebrow. 
“Yes, well…” He cleared his throat. “I suppose I could take a look at some of the scrolls we’ve acquired.” Gale shuffled back to his tent and let the flap close behind him. A moment later a small ball of magelight illuminated his silhouette.
Yizekah groaned and rose to her feet. “Oof. That’s all I’ve got for the day. You lot sleep well.”
Lae’zel gave a curt nod. “I will be prepared for battle before morning.”
“Good night, Yizekah,” Wyll replied. “Don’t let the vampires bite.” He considered a moment. “Or do. Just keep it down, either way.”
“He’s hunting tonight,” she mumbled, ears burning. 
“Oh, is that what you call it?” Mischief glimmered in Wyll’s good eye.
“Good night, Ravengard.” She stalked off to the scarlet tent in the far corner of camp before the teasing could begin in earnest. She hoped to be well asleep by the time Astarion returned from his little expedition -- and, well, if she allowed him to feed on her at that time, that was no one’s business but their own.
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"I want to be very clear about something," he said, taking her chin in his palm. "You are safe here. No one is coming for you. No one here will hurt you. If someone from outside tried to get to you, we would all end the threat in an instant." His hands fell to grip hers tightly. "I swear, Melanie, we will keep you safe."
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Writing prompt #2
It was a wolf, yes, but in the same way a man was an ape.
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Writing prompt #3
A cleric who cannot remember what God they serve (can be humourous or very sad and traumatic).
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Faerûnian Writing Challenge: Day 10
Prompt: A tearful, hard kiss before battle.
This one is so freaking soppy and self-indulgent but what the heck.
"Look at me."
Astarion does, albeit reluctantly. He swears he can almost feel his dead heart racing.
Down the steps. Across the chasm. Cazador is waiting. Ready.
And so is unfathomable power.
But in front of him, there is Yizekah. She smiles. Her helltouched irises are faintly luminescent in the green-lit dungeon. Her skin, normally a lovely ruddy copper, is washed out to a sickly blue. When she reaches up and holds his cheek in her palm, however, the warmth is as perfect as ever.
The others have stepped back, he recognizes faintly. Good. This isn't for them. He closes his eyes, breathes in her scent, listens to the beat, beat, beat of the heart that, somehow, is his as well.
"Whatever we find in there," she says, softly, too soft even for the room's echo to catch, "It does not change this." She kisses him on the crest of his cheekbones. "Whatever you choose, I will love you."
His closed eyes are burning, but he cocks a half-smile, anyway. "But...?"
She sighs, slightly, but he can hear the smile in her voice as she replies. "But you are enough, just as you are, Starry. We are enough." He feels her breath tickle his lips as she leans in. "This power is not worth your soul."
Part of him protests, gives the same excuse he's been giving all evening--this is for you, I just want us to be safe, don't you know what it's like to be under someone's thumb, to be beholden to the will of a madman--
But she does know. She knows what it is to not trust her own body. She had paid the price for seeking power, herself, with her mind, her body, her soul, and fought the gods themselves to reclaim them.
"I don't want to be afraid anymore," he whispers. Tears push through the seal of his eyelids, but she catches them, wipes them away before anyone else can see.
"I know," she replies. "Just promise me you will think about it, will you?"
He owes her that much. He nods, once, and opens his eyes. Her face is blurry, but he's spent enough time staring at it over the past few weeks to know she wears a gentle smile. His smile. The one that she saves just for him.
"You are so precious to me," she says.
That does it. She has always been so careful with him, asking before she kisses him, backing off when she senses the slightest discomfort, constantly checking on him, giving that little tilt of the head that means Are you okay?
He is not so careful now. He kisses her, deep and hard, clutching her wonderful, warm body to his own. She stiffens in surprise for a moment--it almost sends a bolt of terror through him--but then she is kissing back, melting into his hold, every curve of her body molding to his form. She throws her arms around his neck and pulls him in deeper. For the first time in more than a century, something stirs in him. More than arousal, more than desire--something deeper, something that wants to be hers as much as she is his--
A conspicuous cough startles the both of them, and Yizekah pulls back, looking sheepish. "Sorry," she says to Karlach, who stands in the corner with her arms folded. Gale looks like he is wishing he were anywhere else in Toril.
"We'll have time later, yeah?" Karlach says. "C'mon, I want to smash some undead brains in."
Yizekah releases Astarion, settling back onto her heels. "Sounds good to me. You ready, Starry Sky?"
"Alright," he grins, fangs and all. "Let's go kill this bastard."
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Love me when a character submits and cooperates but doesn't break. Like they know they need to pick their battles. They know sometimes it's better to play along, for now, that their pride isn't worth dying for. Because what they are--who they are--is stronger than anything their tormentor can do to them.
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Prompt or whatever
"Pretty little thing," he smiled, chucking her chin. She tried to drive her knee into his crotch, but his magic yanked her back before she could make contact.
"And so determined," he added, his sickening smile still twisting his face. With a quick gesture he forced her to her knees. "Hold on to that fire, doll. You'll need it to survive here."
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haha, not letting it happen this time. This time, Phaera has no time for tricky illithids. Phaera's making smart choices, yes siree.
oh lord, between Alistair and Empy I'm starting to realize I have a type. How. How does this happen. help.
I finished the game for the first last night (up til 2:30 am lol) and there was some real hurt when the Emperor just up and joined the Netherbrain as soon as PC put her foot down. Like I played my PC as genuinely giving him a chance to be the person he claimed to be. And he does that "don't you trust me uwu" thing as if the issue is trust and honesty. Like no dude, the issue is that what you are planning is unconscionable, not that you lied about your species. Need to write an essay on it tbh
That's actually where me and my bf started to suspect something. We did it just to see what would happen, and him immediately turning on his heel and joining the netherbrain made us go "What?" because it made no sense.
We questioned whether it was poor writing so that you had to choose, but the game is so well written that it didn't make sense. We couldn't figure out why he would just say 'fuck this' and give up everything and doom the world he claimed to care for just because we decided to liberate the Gith. Why why why--
Unless his true goals that he was obscuring from you would be ruined by the actual defeat of the mindflayer Grand Design.
He claims to want to be a member of society, and just to be treated like a normal person. He claims to want to save the world. That is the lie he tells you to gain your aid. I call it a lie, because it is one. If what he said was true, he would encourage you to release the Gith Prince to truly defeat the Grand Design once and for all, because the Gith Prince has the secret to doing so. If he truly wanted to actually save the world, he would want that security against the other mindflayers.
You know why he wouldn't want the release of the Gith Prince? Because the Gith Prince could foil his Grand Design too.
He says fuck you and runs off to join the netherbrain if you release the prince because he's defeated the netherbrain once, and he could likely do it again. It would be a huge inconvenience and it would knock centuries off his plan, and he would prefer not do, but he would do it. He could break free and end up dominating it somehow. He has proven he has the ability more than once.
The Gith Prince though? The prince knows how to truly defeat mindflayers once and for all, supposedly. He can't plan for it because he doesn't know how. It would well and truly foil his plans forever.
If he wasn't planning his own domination, he would want the prince freed to ensure the safety of all of humanity and the realms from the 'other' mindflayers.
That's the only way that makes sense.
Remember when I said all independent mindflayers are still mindflayers and seek to become the brain versus being a servant of it? Well it's a lot easier to do that if you have a band of gullible humans there to help you defeat the netherbrain and think you are their ally. That opens the way clear up for you to become the netherbrain instead and take over their dominion. Especially when the humans think you are their friend and trust you and don't tend to look into your business.
Withers tries to warn you of this. Many people try to warn you. Even Vlaakith, while mainly concerned for her own power, understands that the mindflayer locked in the prism is dangerous. There are books scattered throughout the world that say without a shadow of a doubt that mindflayers are manipulative bastards that are incapable of human emotions and thoughts. They lie to meet their own ends. At first, I thought it was because maybe he was the first... but really, what are the chances of that? Back that knowledge with my other knowledge on mindflayers and also the fact that you are conveniently ridding the world of the netherbrain for him, creating a power vacuum he plans to fill?
He's evil, dude. He's just using you. He will even admit it if you always choose negative options and don't fall for his ruse.
TLDR; The Emperor is a bastard filled with foreshadowing and you should not trust him.
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Alistair was like a first boyfriend that felt magical at the time but looking back you realize he was just a shitty 13 year old. I'm replaying Dragon Age: Origins right now because I want to play the rest of the series following what happened on my first playthrough, but hoo boy. Not sure I can let blondie break my heart again.
Honestly I was ok being Ali's mistress, since I was the one who convinced him to marry whatsherface (what a waste of time that ended up being). But him leaving if you choose to give Loghain a second chance? I had to turn the game off for a few days after. That hurt in a way no fiction ever had.
Honestly, him throwing a fit if you spare Loghain, while understandable, is irritating. Loghain wasn't a villain, he was just severely misguided and trying to be pragmatic. The king was an idiot; basically just a glory-hound little boy with no true idea of the horror of battle and the sacrifice it takes to run a kingdom. He thought life was a fairy tale specifically made for him to play around in. A blight is a horror-- a world ending horror--where the entire surface can perish, and he treated it like it was some grand adventure. Strutting about in his gilded armor, fanboying over the Grey Wardens, spurning his best advisor-- like no wonder Loghain didn't trust him.
Loghain thought he was doing what was best for the kingdom, and he was making sacrifices that he thought were necessary to spare lives. I understand Alistair being upset, and I know he has gripes, but Loghain wasn't Archdemon evil #2. He was trying to do what he thought was right to save the world and he was the only one with the experience and know-how to do it.
I think I tried to spare Loghain, and then when Alistair threw a fit, I reloaded and just let him do what he wants. For this playthrough, I will not be doing that. I will be sparing Loghain and offering him a chance at redemption, and if Alistair doesn't like it, he can run and hide like a coward.
The fact that he will just up and abandon everything in a fit of emotion because he doesn't get his way and doesn't get to murder Loghain fucking irritates me. And then, in the aftermath, he supposedly forgives and forgets and everything is fine again and he wants to be buddy-buddy once more. He runs off and hides behind the castle's skirts until the threat is over. Real prince-like, Ali.
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Asto, baby, you are literally standing on a corpse.
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Elia Rose
More old Angstpril. Prompts were "Self-Sacrifice" and "Mind Control".
“I’ll do it. You can have me.”
The Fae smiled. 
“Your name.”
She swallowed. “Elia Malone.”
“Middle name too, sweet thing.”
She closed her eyes. “Rose.”
Soft fingers touched her cheek. “Elia Rose,” said the fae, and she felt the call like the rumble of the earth. “What a darling of a human you shall be.”
***
Among the fae, things were different. 
She wore the silver collar that protected her from the other Fair Ones. To them she was known only as the Prince’s girl. She had protested, once, that she was hardly a girl at twenty-six, but they had only laughed. The youngest among them was nearly a century, they said. She would be a child among immortals for the rest of her life.
The Prince exercised his control over her with a light touch. He only murmured her name, calling her back to him when he wished for her. Only a few admonitions had he bound to her.
Do not leave the forest, Elia.
Show deference when in public, Elia. My people are not forgiving of slights.
And above all, Elia Rose Malone, do not give anyone your name.
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