Hello @spadillelicious, just letting you know that your boys are still living rent free inside my head.
So i read Chapter 14 yesterday, let's just say i thought i was out of fanart ideas and i was terribly WRONG
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because i keep forgetting what colors to use
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AND ANOTHER THING
Favoritism for Astarion aside, I think no one sees the tragedy in Wyll because he never really strays from "being good". We're never really given a moment where his actions had costs larger than himself. If he'd refused Mizora's pact, he'd obviously have the guilt of any lives lost on his shoulders. He accepted it though. If you're unshakable in your goodness there's no way you can be unhappy, clearly you're content with all your choices. WHICH IS THE POINT OF WYLL! HE DOESN'T REGRET HIS CHOICES BUT HE ISN'T HAPPY EITHER!
Astarion's whole thing is how fucking hard it is to be good, how easy it is to be a bad person. That's where Wyll comes into play! He showcases how often doing the right thing comes at a personal cost! That's the actual struggle with Wyll. In his efforts for justice he's losing himself. People aren't infinite resources, yet Wyll gives and sacrifices and takes the hits like he'll never run dry.
*rattling the bars of my cage* Don't you see it? The parallel themes of identity loss, the balance one most walk between altruism and selfishness, when does doing good at the detriment of yourself become detrimental to others as well, how can someone justify their selfishness, their sacrifices, when does someone need to tell you to stop giving, to stop taking? Hello? Do you hear me?? Is anyone there??? Look at it, LOOK AT ALL OF IT *starts gnawing at the bars*
edit: *BUSTS THROUGH THE BARS OF MY CAGE* ASTARION'S FIRST MAJOR SACRIFICE INVOLVES LOSING THE SUN. HE CHOOSES TO DO THE RIGHT THING AND LITERALLY LOSES THE LIGHT. WYLL SAYS YOU CAN ALWAYS LOOK TO ME WHEN YOU'RE IN SEARCH OF LIGHT. THE MARTYR HELPS THE SELFISH AND THE SELFISH KEEPS THE MARTYR FROM DESTROYING HIMSELF. *self-implodes*
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slap - @jegulus-microfic - word count: 228
"Oh my god," James murmured, looking resolutely away from the middle of the room.
But as the bass thudded around them and the party continued, he found it more difficult to do so.
Because Regulus had, for the first time in a long time, gotten absolutely plastered. And now?
He was dancing with Barty on a table.
The two boys moved together so closely that it seemed like they were of one mind, their hips rolling together an their chests touching, matching grins on their faces. Regulus's hair was a little mussed and his shirt was riding up, and he was currently biting his bottom lip, eyes closed, his hands on Barty's waist.
And James was entranced. Because really, who wouldn't be? Regulus looked like some sort of fallen angel, dressed in all black, his beautiful skin tinged pink with drink and exertion as he moved.
But the worst part?
Every once in a while, Regulus glanced over. Looked at James. Threw him a seductive smirk that was so un-Regulus and so tempting that James almost melted to the floor with it.
"So...are you looking over there because you want to slap Crouch or snog Reg?" Remus asked from next to James, snapping him back to reality.
Clearing his throat and looking over to where Barty looked to be thoroughly enjoying himself, James shrugged and chuckled. "Both."
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