#same goes with anyone who's light-aligned

[thatfreshi]

Hiya, I love your writing style! This is more inspo than a request -- but you know how there's posts floating around about how Astarion's disdain for heroics and good-alignment characters is really a reflection of his feelings about no one ever helping him or rescuing him? What if Tav worked that out and said, "I'm sorry I took so long" -- or something to that affect 👀👀

I imagine this takes place in act two, but before you meet Araj

tw - gore

Recommended Song: Your Power - Billie Eilish

You woke up to a startled shout in the camp, somewhere to the left of your tent. You're not necessarily a heavy or light sleeper, but this would've woken anyone up. There was a fight somewhere, and soon after you realized the shout came from Astarion. Sure he could be mouthy, but loud? It's not really his thing. You grab a knife from beside your bedroll, off to investigate the sudden kerfuffle. When you get there though, Astarion has handled the camp intruder, who is now lying dead on the ground. He doesn't notice you at first as he investigates the stranger's bags, looking to see if he had anything of importance.

"Are you alright?"

Your voice sends shivers up his spine. He's not used to kind questions, at least ones without poor intentions.

"No, I am dead and splayed all over the grass Tav. Shame you didn't help me fast enough! Guess you're not so great at playing hero all the time."

At first, you read this as his normal shitty banter, but there's a spite behind his words, bile.

"Did he-"

"Nope, didn't do anything, I am fine! You may go back to sleep now and dream of all the damsels in distress you haven't found yet."

You take a couple steps closer, worried about how closed off he's being, worried he's hiding something from you. Although, that wouldn't be rare of him.

"Oh what, you think I didn't kill him? Do you need to double check? Here's some proof."

Astarion then plunges his dagger into the chest of the dead man a couple more times, clearly tense. He doesn't unhand his blade after, and simply meets your eyes.

"I can handle a spare rogue. Now, leave me be."

Anxiety bundles in your chest.

"I... you seem unwell."

He scoffs.

"It's you that's made me so unwell, so if you want to sit there and be concerned, perhaps you should look in the mirror."

Where was this coming from? You take a couple more steps, and he turns his blade on you, standing to meet your stance.

"Lower the dagger Astarion."

"Or what? I've been through hell already, what can you do?"

"I don't want to hurt you, and quite frankly I don't know why you'd want to hurt me. I've only ever protected you, assisted you in how many fights, helped you how many times!"

"And that's precisely it. You pass along a silent helping hand, sit there and listen to my woes, pick me up off the ground when I'm wounded, and for what?"

You're taken aback. What kind of question is this? Who would ask something like that?

"Because I care!"

"No. Because you want something from me. That's how it always goes, right? I fall into some peril and a kind creature says, 'oh you poor thing, I'll keep you safe,' and then suddenly I am trapped. No, you won't fool me. Kindness is a means to an end, and I will not be that end again."

Your argument has now woken up everyone in the camp, a few souls rubbing their eyes and wondering why you're yelling this late.

"What would I want from you Astarion? We all want the same thing, the tadpoles gone, the Absolute destroyed. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, I don't know how you don't see that!"

"Then why sleep with me at the party?"

He has now officially aired your business out to the entire camp, but no one says anything. You think about the question, wondering what he could possibly mean.

"I... I slept with you because you offered and I thought it would be fun, and-"

"And what? Because you wanted to hold something over me?"

"No! Because I... because I think I'm falling for you."

Astarion is frozen for a moment, because you seem like you're being genuine right now.

"You know I've used those tricks on everyone in the book, right? Thousands of people have gotten the 'I love you' spiel, you're not special."

A few tears come to your eyes.

"No, it's not that. You say pretty things, sure. But there's something about you, your voice, your eyes... you're, comforting. And when you said you wanted to have sex I figured it might be my only chance to be that close with you, because you're so damn guarded. I guess I was right."

He sheathes his dagger.

"I know you're not used to people being nice, but I like being nice! Especially to you. I know you're trying to keep yourself safe, I don't blame you, but what's the point in freedom if you don't try to use it to live a little?"

Astarion meets your eyes again, tearing up a little.

"The second I drop my guard, I'll have the rug pulled out from under me, the other shoe will drop Tav. I'm not going to take the chance that you're that other shoe."

You try to close the gap between the two of you.

"But wouldn't it be so freeing to just try? You know I see it right? Those little smiles that cover your face when you think I'm not looking. Why can't we just try?"

You try to reach out for his hand, and he hesitates.

"It would be so easy for you to use me."

"I'm telling you I won't, I promise."

"Promises are often empty in my experience."

You try to catch your breath, wiping the salty streaks off your face. When you're ready to give up and tell him to forget you ever said anything, he takes your other hand in his.

"But maybe... just maybe you're right. Trying, it does sound nice to try."

You hold yourself back from squeezing his hand, not wanting to scare him off from the interaction.

"I know you think my whole do-gooder thing is a ploy, and I'm sorry that you've been lied to, but not everyone promising salvation is out to get you. At least I'm not, and I'm here now. I'm here now."

For so long, you wanted to reach out to his heart like this, feel something real with him. You go to wrap yourself around him slowly, and soon after, he reciprocates the embrace. Astarion doesn't say anything, and just sobs into your shoulder. You move your hand to his hair.

"You're free now, it's okay."

The audience hasn't seemed to leave, shocked by the rather tender moment they've witnessed from their tents. You catch a glimpse of Wyll crying a little at the scene. When Astarion removes himself from your side, he wipes at his eyes.

"So now what? Emotional vulnerability isn't really my thing you know."

You both laugh a little.

"Whatever we want I guess, whatever feels right.

"And if I... don't know what feels right?"

You smile.

"Then we'll figure that part out together."

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #comfort #angst

[thatmooncake]

Obsessed with how Sun fits so much of himself into such a tiny space.

I mean first of all, literally.

He’s gonna have to surgically detach his rays from that slide.

And then we have his living space, the Superstar daycare. Big at first but when it’s the only place you can seem to access while others get free roam of half the building or even get to go outside of it? TINY. The outside world is unfathomably HUGE in comparison. And everyone he comes into contact with has basically seen so much more of it than he has. And that must feel so impressive to him but at the same time so strange and …maybe somewhat limiting? Like no matter how hard he tries to relate or understand from his little corner, others have experienced things firsthand that he probably never has. Things he’s read to kids in storybooks and sang songs about but never seen up close.

And we know that in some sense he likes things to be just so. The barrels are aligned. The lights stay on. That’s the only way he feels safe. So I imagine his own limited perspective when he comes face to face with people from the outside world feels kind of scary to him in a way.

And despite the daycare being his domain, people encroach upon his space without warning, and he plays along. All of a sudden there are people and he must deal with them accordingly and he must act in a certain way no matter how he feels about it and how much stress he’s put under (for example, continuing on with playtime despite the whole situation with Moon, perhaps because he has to, or he wants to, or he has nothing else - maybe all of the above).

^ Look at his little room! It makes me sad. I don’t know if Moon ripped up all the bots that are scattered over the floor or if Sun did or if someone else did but the fact is the place looks so depressing compared to most of the Glamrocks’ rooms it’s painful. Here we have two of the most neglected robots in the pizzaplex and they carry on like that doesn’t matter, but we know Sun knows that something is very wrong so even if this is the norm for him and even if he’s used to it, the more broken bits and pieces he encounters the more it must be killing him because every day when he’s done entertaining the kids or pretending someone’s going to show up that day (depending on if the daycare is closed or not) he goes back to a permanent reminder of just how messed up things have become.

And he seems SO HAPPY to see a stranger from outside of that little room. No matter how you look at that, it’s pretty sad. Is he faking his enthusiasm? What a frustrating and stressful situation that must be to be at the beck and call of someone you don’t genuinely want to be around and act like you’re their new best friend. Is he actually excited? What a stressful situation that must be too, only for any semblance of control you had to be abruptly torn from you as you’re forced to switch when the lights go out, clearly horrified by what’s going to happen all the while because you know it won’t be good for anyone.

Does it hurt when he switches? I’m fascinated by Sun’s relationship with Moon. It’s played in so many interesting ways by the fandom. Are they two separate people? Are they like roommates who share a body? Are they two aspects of the same AI? They’re so versatile and I love it. I love all the takes there are on their personalities. Sun? Silly, goofy, playful, ray of sunshine, bundle of nerves, parental, fiery, bossy, strict, the embodiment of anxiety, and so on. Moon? Prankster, gremlin, sleepy, calm, collected, grumpy, silly, catlike, etc. I love it when they get along and I love it when they don’t. I have so many feelings about them both and it’s less that I want to know the truth about them (if there is such a thing) and more I just like exploring every avenue because they’re just really fun and fascinating characters.

And THAT SYMBOLISM. Wow. The sun and moon themes give you so much to play around with. So many metaphors and so many things you can plaster the surfaces of your house or the background of your phone with that make you think of them. The moon’s phases. The way the sun sets earlier in the winter. Would Sun get tired more easily in the winter? Does Moon have a blue moon phase that makes him feel down at the drop of a hat? Because same, guys, same.

Not getting over these guys any time soon I guess.

#fablespeaks #sundrop #just a ramble #I really like them ok #fablethoughts

[chronically-ghosted]

I always thought the scene from Deadpool was hot where he and Vanessa are having hot sex mixed with food on Thanksgiving.

Maybe that with Joel or Javier P?

Ahhh, anon. this has been stewing in my brain since you sent it. And I know you said thanksgiving, but the line in this happened in, like, a single scene after the thanksgiving one! please forgive my timing!

kiss me ‘till I’m warm

rating: T

Pairing: jaiver peña x f!reader

word count: 1.6K

summary: a very drunk javi has something he wants to share with you.

warnings/tags: mentions of alcohol, drunkenness, one stupid joke, the absurdity of someone drunk off their ass trying to flirt, light kissing on body parts, references to smut, but ultimately this is fluffy as hell

a/n: wishing all of you a great start to your week as december plods along! shout out to the incredible @saradika for the divider!

🤍Masterlist

Javier Peña is a giggly drunk. 

Not all the time, mind you, not always. Depends on the liquor, his mood, and what he’s had to eat that day – if anything at all. But given the right circumstances and the stars align, once in a blue moon, Javier blushes and giggles like a fourteen year old with a first crush. 

Now, that might come as a surprise to anyone who has seen him lurking around the hallways of the American Embassy, scowling and smelling of stale cigarettes. The women he used to visit would swear up and down that Javier Peña was not a giggly drunk, having seen him knock back a drink or two, or three, or five. Certainly, all the narcos he’d rounded up and captured would be rather offended to hear that about the man who sent them to prison. It would shock them all to hear that, in the end, it was eggnog. Eggnog, the creamy, thick holiday drink that in terms of calories and sugar blew every other frappuccino out of the water – it was eggnog that turned Javier’s world upside down. From frown-set smokestack, to someone who wanders into his girlfriend’s bedroom after her office party and nearly blows his knee out on the bed frame. 

“Javier, honey, are you okay?” You scramble towards where he tripped, expecting either blood or for him to be knocked on conscious. But instead, you just see fluff. White fluff. White fluff that proceeds red velvet, more fluff, and then thick dark hair. 

Javier stands up, grinning from ear to ear. He stretches his arms wide, his white undershirt thin on his chest. He arches further, revealing a dusting of hair below the hem of his shirt that disappears into the waistband of his jeans. Well, when his pants are buttoned.

“Tada!” he beams. You roll your eyes and he giggles, following you on his hands and knees as you crawl back to your spot by the pillows. You had come in here to get some lotion for your hands and despite your insistence that he does not leave the couch, he stumbled in after you.

“Pero, mi amor,” he pouts when he sits on his knees behind you, “te fuiste.”

“You poor thing,” you frown at him over your shoulder as you rub the lotion into your hands, then your knees. His eyes bob between your tits through your sleep shirt and your circular motions over your skin. You narrow your eyes at him when his mouth goes slack and his eyes dark. “Oh, absolutely not, Javier. You are drunk as a skunk and about two minutes away from passing out.”

He rolls his eyes and leans forward, wobbling slightly as he crawls towards you. “Please?”

“No.”

“¿Por favor?” 

“No!”

You frown, suspicious, when he chuckles as he loosely grabs you by the ankles, thumbs pressed in below the knot of bone. His shirt is loose enough you can see down the collar to his tanned chest. It’s not like the idea isn’t enticing, but you’d only seen him this drunk once before after the Christmas party at Steve and Connie’s two years ago. He made the same proposition back then and when he went to lie down on the floor to take his pants off, you looked over the bed to find him passed out, spread eagle and only his belt undone. 

“Bien, bien,” he waves his hand in the air, the cotton ball of his Santa hat falling over his eyes, “pero tengo un chiste para ti.”

Another sign that Javier had reached the point of no return: he spoke much more in Spanish and the words blurred together, as if sticking on top of each other. 

You eye him with faux annoyance when he uses your legs to pull himself in between your ankles. He kisses the tops of your knees, his palms warm beneath the weight of your calf muscles. Giddy and care-free until he wakes up with a pounding headache, drunk Javier is something you always cherished, because it is one of the few times he can be care-free. Relaxed. You are the only person he lets see him like this and you would protect that vulnerability with everything in your heart.

“Javier.” He hums, his teeth against your knee and dropping lower. His eyes are closed and his breathing’s changed. “I think you had something you wanted to tell me.”

He blinks, open mouth freezing on the bone of your calf. “Right. Yeah. Of course, mi vida.” 

That heady, blurred look of desire on his face melts away almost as fast as it came on. He presses the arch of his nose against your other knee, giggling, as he readjusts his feet under him. 

“Okay, okay,” he sniffs, sits up, and looks at you with bleary, water-y brown eyes. “Steve told it to me, so if you don’t think it’s funny, it’s his fault.” 

You nod and then he taps the inside of your thigh with two fingers.

“If your left leg is Thanksgiving y tu pierna derecha es Navidad,” he outright gropes your other thigh, his slur worsening, mouth full of damp, gummy cotton balls. “Can I visit you entre días festivos?

Javier Peña raises a single eyebrow at you, as if he had been the first one to discover pick up lines, perfected the art of flirting, and discovered he had the ritz to seduce any woman in the world all in one night. His hands tighten in the meat of your inner thighs as he pushes them apart, his chest pressing forward, down, into you. With surprising dexterity and stability, he crawls between your open legs, hands firm as they plant on either side of your head. He’s still wearing that infuriatingly smug grin, his hips rolling forward until you feel the scrape of the teeth of his jeans on your thigh.

���What do you say, baby?” his teeth edge the rim of your ear, “¿p-p-puedo –,”

He full-on snorts in your ear, suddenly overcome with giggles and you jerk away. “Javi!”

You pinch his waist and he flops over on to the other side of the bed, his face turning red as he howls with laughter. His Santa hat pushed up over his forehead, the back of his hair sticking up from where he’s nestled against the pillows, Javier clutches his sides as he rolls back and forth. 

You sit up, smiling, and watch the man you love enjoy himself for once. Sure, he could (and did, often) get lost in sex, but this is different. Your mother always said there was something healing about laughter, about feeling safe enough to close your eyes around another person, and Javier had spent far too long with his eyes wide open. 

Tears are streaming down his cheeks by the time you pluck the Santa hat off his head and kiss his forehead. Giggles trickling down, he curls onto his side, his bare feet seemingly so large on your covers. You stroke his cheek, your thumb brushing the corner of his mustache, and the last giggle fades to a hum. He closes his eyes, cheeks pink, his head turning ever so slightly towards your touch.

“Do you need some water, baby?”

“Mhm hmm.” 

Kissing him on his nose, you slide off the bed and go towards the kitchen. After filling up a glass from the filter, you turn off the lights, check the front door, and close the blinds. But when you come back to your bedroom, the golden light of your bedside lamp the only glow left in the entire apartment, you know instantly he’s already asleep. Javier lies still curled up on his side, his wide shoulders curled in, the white expanse of his t-shirt rising and falling with each breath. 

You didn’t know him very well the first time you slept together, but the night he stayed over, all the way until the morning light broke through your shutters, you knew it had been an extraordinary step for him. 

Now he sleeps in your bed, unguarded and unburdened, as much as he can. 

You put the glass of water on his side of the bed and gently ease him onto his back. His arm slithers over his torso as his shoulder collides with the mattress, his matted hair where the hat sat in a line stiff against his forehead. 

In his more morose moments, Javier announced he was getting old. His back hurt, his eyesight was shit, and he swears he spots more and more gray hairs in the mirror every day. 

But, when he’s like this, when he’s Javi not Javier, when he’s just yours and no one else’s, he is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. 

A hand pressed to his warm chest, you lean forward and kiss his cheek.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” you whisper against his skin. He stirs, but doesn’t open his eyes.

Sliding your earrings out of their posts and into the little dish beside your bed, you glance at him one more time before turning off the light. The room is dark, warm, and in the emptiness you can hear him breathing. 

The shape of him is more familiar to you than your own, able to trace his profile with nothing but memory, so without searching, as though reaching for a piece of yourself, you intertwine your hand with his. 

His fingers twitch and the sound of his breathing slows. 

In the absence of every other sense, you are overwhelmed by the weight of his palm in yours, the soothing rock of the rise and fall of his chest, your ears tuned to his every sigh, every noise –

In the absence of everything else, you listen to him inhale –

“Merry Christmas, baby.” 

– and exhale. 

#merry thanksgiving nonsense 2023 #javier peña #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena fluff #javi peña #javier pena #javier pena fanfiction

[orangedodge]

Sabine as force-sensitive come out of nowhere,nothing on Star Wars Rebels indicated she was one.

Philosophically, Sabine was aligned with the Jedi all throughout Rebels. When she chooses to defeat the Journeyman Protectors without risking avoidable loss of life, the show calls out that she's grown to act more like a Jedi would behave in those circumstances than is typical of a (Nite Owl-aligned) Mandalorian. A season later, she spares Gar Saxon after defeating him in ritual combat, despite a cultural expectation that a foe who refuses to yield under such conditions must die. She acknowledges specifically that to end his life is the Mandalorian way, but declares to her family and clan that it is no longer her own, and the song Light of the Force--the Jedi theme--echoes as she makes her decision.

When Ezra journeys to the World Between Worlds in season 4, he does so via a door in the Lothal Temple, which can only be accessed by a pair of Jedi working together. If the Temple did not recognize Sabine as--at the very least-- having the mindset of a Jedi, the door would not have opened. So becoming the first Mandalorian Jedi in centuries was already a direction for her character arc that had clear foundations.

The only thing she was missing in Rebels was an actual capacity to listen to and understand the will of the Force, which Star Wars defines as the collective will of all objects in the universe. It is not magic or superpowers, it is an external consciousness that touches and interacts with everyone and everything at all times. The only distinction to be made is whether or not someone is aware of that interaction, and capable of consciously responding to it.

In Rebels, we were told that Sabine was not open to this connection at that time, but this was due to an emotional block, and not a complete incapacity. When she trains with Kanan, this begins to slowly change--she goes from struggling against the weight of the Darksabre, to the blade becoming lighter in her hands as she began to synchronize with the living crystal inside of it.

To the limited extent that "Force Sensitivity" exists in canon at all, it refers only to whether or not someone has an innate talent in these areas. We're told in Ahsoka that Sabine has none, but could learn anyway with practice and dedication, just as anyone else would be able to learn if they really wanted to. It took Sabine ten years or more of failed attempts to learn how to make that lightsaber move to her, following potentially thousands of hours of one-on-one instruction, on top of spending the literal entire series practicing whenever she could, and it only worked in a moment of desperation. And arguably, even that was not enough, since under the exact same conditions in her forest duel with Shin Hati, she still failed. It was only after Ahsoka connected with her through a metaphysical bond, actually showing her what the Force sounds like, that she could understand how to make it work.

#sabine wren #ahsoka tano #kanan jarrus #star wars rebels #star wars ahsoka #star wars #anon ask #anonymous #star wars spoilers

[yuyuswrld]

O Captain, My Captain || 3.5

characters: zeke yeager x reader

cw: explicit smut (18+ only), degradation, non-consensual filming, large age gap, “coach” kink

“Why are you even doing all of this?” You ask, his fingers still grazing the surface of your lips. “This came out of nowhere.” As you finish speaking, he shoves his fingers inside your mouth without warning, which causes you to gag around the intrusion. The way he stares at you is a mixture of awe and pity, somewhere between a dog and a doll.

“I’m settling a personal score with my brother.”

It violates your morality, despite the off-handed comments and Petra’s gossip. Eren had never done much to you. It also stood that for that same reason- it makes almost no sense why Zeke would choose to sleep with you, of all people, even to get back at his younger brother. You were never a pushover or weak in the knees, but the older blonde man who stands in front of you seems almost too handsome to pass up. It might bite you in the ass, but fuck it.

You swirl your tongue around his rough fingers, which intrude into the space in your mouth, almost too thick for comfort. The taste of your essence spreads around your mouth as you suck, eye contact between the two of you almost suffocating. 

“That’s right. Be a good girl and swallow my fingers like they’re the cock you want down your throat so bad.”

Rough fingers find solace on your clit, where they begin to rub harsh circles. Moans escape your lips and travel to his, not going unheard as his pace speeds up. He moves his fingers from your clit to his pants, where he unbuttons them with leisure, your eyes glued to the sight in front of you. You watch as he removes the last barrier, gaze dancing over his blond, trimmed bush before it settles on his length. He’s not long, but he is thick, causing you to swallow the spit in your throat at the thought of fitting him inside of you. 

It doesn’t take long for him to align his cock up with your walls. As the first half goes in, you gasp with what dances the thin line between pleasure and pain. It was thicker than anything or anyone you’ve had inside you before. Your wetness eases the stretch and your body accommodates him as if his cock was designed to be there. He bottoms out, letting a loud groan bounce off the walls of his office. 

“You feel so fucking good for a slut,” Zeke hisses out, “can’t believe you’re letting the other team’s coach rearrange your insides.” There’s not a response that comes to mind as he begins to hit the delicate spots that you craved to be touched for so long. Everything about what was happening was so fucked up, but yet, as the blond pounded into you with unrelenting resolve, every red flag dissipates before you. Instead, the addicting feeling of having him hit every single crevice making every single thought you had foggy.

Zeke flips you over onto your stomach, pushing down on your back so your ass is further into the air. There’s almost no time between the position switch and him re-entering you for you to catch your breath. The rapid pacing sends your tits back and forth at a rapid pace before he grabs them to help bury himself further inside until you cry out his name. You feel the all-too-familiar feeling in your gut begin to build as his fingers find themselves playing with your clit in an unexpectedly delicate manner.

“M’ gonna cum, Coach!” you cry out in ecstasy, making the slightest eye contact with Zeke as you turn your head to the side and glance behind. All you see is a cocky smirk, which leaves a feeling of uneasiness in your stomach. Maybe, just maybe, if you had glanced the other way, you would’ve seen the small red light in the corner of his office and realized his nefarious intentions. Instead, your cries carry throughout the night and into the vents where they find the consolation of nothingness.

“Did you get to see the game room?” Pieck asks you, sending you into a mild mental roundabout regarding if you should lie about the events of last night or not. You debate coming clean at first before vetoing it within your mind.

“I didn’t! Coach Zeke ended up just dropping off Coach Levi and I then heading off to his office, I think.” It doesn’t sit right with you to lie to someone who has never done anything wrong to you, but self-preservation prevails. “I passed out the second I got back to the dorm hall."

#aot x reader #aot fanfiction #zeke yeager smut #anime smut #zeke x reader

[dailydemonspotlight]

Baal - Day 5

Race: Deity

Alignment: Light-Law

March 25th, 2024

Today's demon of the day belies himself as a god in the bible, though is truly a forgotten deity in his own right- Baal, Canaanite god of rain and fertility.

Baal, known by his true name of Hadad only to the priests and leadership of the religion, was a leading deity of the ancient Canaanite and Mesopotamian pantheons, given the title of 'Prince of the Earth,' a god commonly worshipped to bring about rains to the arid lands of Mesopotamia. Derived from the god Ishkur from Sumerian myth, Baal's role differed greatly from most storm gods, instead being a savior of sorts, a man who brought rain to dry lands and painted them in fertile grass instead of breaking things apart with storms and thunder.

In his main myth, Baal came into conflict with the god of Death and Sterility in Canaanite myth, Mot, and was locked in eternal conflict for years- each time he would fall, crops would wither away, and each time Mot would fall, they would spring to life. This eternal cycle known as the Baal cycle would become a focal point for Mesopotamian mythology, and Baal was a beloved deity...

Until Christianity attacked.

Unfortunately for Baal, his time in the limelight would soon give way to biblical stories about the Canaanite cults, and as the story would go, Baal was unable to complete the tasks set before him that the Israelite YHWH was able to complete. The prophet Elijah's altar was torn, a mastery over the weather was shown by YHWH, and this oddly spiteful tale that seems to come down to 'oh, my god is cooler than yours' comes to a bloody end as the cultists of Baal are soon brought to a bloody end by the blades of the priesthood.

Due to this, several demons were given epithets derived from Baal, such as Bael or Beelzebub, and Baal fell into a hole of obscurity, as would myths of Canaanite origin in general. In my opinion, a frankly somewhat tragic tale coming down to spite, but aside from that...

Baal's story makes him a perfect fit for a demon, one who rebels against god, mayhaps as a story of revenge for the death of his followers. In gameplay, he's a very powerful magic-focused demon with a specialty in, you guessed it... wind skills. The connection is obvious- he's a god of weather, after all. His design is very, very unique, as there isn't much to go off of for Baal's design in the mythos on account of only a few damaged art pieces surviving.

Baal's headdress remains, though changes to a more webbed design, his outfit resembling a traditional one of a middle-eastern culture, at least stereotypically speaking. He also appears as a... twink. I think? I dunno what he'd really count as. One of my friends referred to him as an otter? Regardless of all this, though, what's most notable with him are the fins adorning so many pieces of his armor, something which I... actually am not sure of the significance of. If anyone is more knowledgeable about this subject, please tell me in the notes! The same goes for the rest of this rundown, as I'm honestly not very familiar with Biblical stories or Canaanite mythology.

#megaten #persona #shin megami tensei #smt #baal #canaanites

[yakool-foolio]

This wasn't meant to happen.

It was meant to be an efficient mission. In and out. No harm would come to them. He helped plan their escape, but he understood that they knew how to handle themself better than anyone. All they needed was the extra push from his faith in them. He let his guard down for them. Wishing them good luck, he watched them go and waited for their return.

He waited...

And waited...

And waited.

But the waiting can only be tolerable for so long until paranoia creeps up along the spine and sinks its fangs into the back of the neck. A deadly venom entering the brain and spreading adrenaline through every limb. Something is wrong. Terribly, awfully wrong. He doesn't last long enough to hear the first call before he tears through the streets to get to the scene.

The officers all echoed the same observation. The one closest to him died... under mysterious circumstances... must've been an accident. But he knew it was no accident. Accidents like this don't happen in a pre-meditated strategy where the risks shone clear as day. Their death was a part of someone else's plan. Someone he knew all too well wanted him gone, who aimed and fired at where his heart resided.

He did this.

Karma is a bitch that bites back hard. It found an opening and struck him down, ripping right past his defenses and took out the one light left in his life. He killed them. All because he left him unchecked for too long, letting him roam free to stir chaos wherever he walked.

As the sworn protector of this city, he accepts his failure and vows to avenge the death of his beloved. He will pay. He'll make sure he gets what's coming to him, even if it means his calloused hands must stain with blood.

...

Did you read this from Yakou's perspective?

Or did you read it from Yomi's?

Or maybe, before you've even gotten to this point, you've gone back to read it from both sides of the story?

Either way, it doesn't change what I've written. It goes to show how aligned their circumstances really are. It really is like looking in a mirror with these two sometimes.

#there is a hell that has been building from the moment we first met #master detective archives: rain code #rain code #rain code spoilers #yakou furio #yomi hellsmile

[ambivalentpsychopomp]

Hi,

If it’s ok to ask- how do you handle being pro-Palestine when Jumblr, Jewish subreddits and tiktoks, etc are all so overwhelmingly Zionist? Whenever I scroll through I see things that call anti-Israel Jews “traitors” or not really Jews, and the rest are just posts saying that anitzionism is antisemitic or that Hamas is is responsible for all this etc. I find it very upsetting and was wondering if you had any thoughts on how to navigate it

Thank you

Thank you for the question!

It’s definitely something I’ve had issues navigating, especially as someone who is very invested in my faith and culture.

Something that is really upsetting and rampant within the Jewish community is this unthinking encouragement of bullying and attacking anyone who doesn’t align politically with Zionism, and this comes from multiple decades of the feamongering and indoctrination of young Jewish people.

It’s very common within Jewish schools and institutions for imagery of the holocaust to be shoved in the faces of Jewish youth, essentially re-traumatising them in order to reaffirm their devotion to the Zionist project in the name of preventing something like that from happening again. (I even see it in my own asks on here, most of the hate I receive consists of graphic descriptions of the antisemitic hate crimes they want me to suffer to “teach me a lesson”) Most Jews are brought up to see Zionism as the solution to Jewish trauma, so naturally it’s a very touchy topic and our culture of “two Jews three opinions” kind of just goes out the window as soon as the conversation turns to Zionism.

It’s very interesting to observe, I’ve had multiple Jewish teachers repeat to me over and over how much we encourage skepticism and critical thinking but immediately disregard that and turn actively hostile when criticisms of medinat Israel arise.

On the one hand I pity these people, because I know their attitudes are just the result of centuries of horrible trauma, and I’ve been in the same headspace myself, but on the other hand I cannot excuse turning a blind eye to the atrocities committed by medinat Israel and in the name of political Zionism.

As for dealing with it, the truth is that it does get to me sometimes, but only- like you mentioned- online. The attitudes you reference are in my limited experience most rampant in already hostile online spaces, maybe because online it’s harder to see each other as people or maybe for some other reason, but the anger and vitriol I’ve faced from Zionists has remained pretty confined to the online world.

In my personal life I have so so many wonderful Jewish friends and elders who I’ve learned from and admired my whole life, who remain steadfast in their support for the liberation of the Palestinian people while fully embracing and nurturing a lively and beautiful, proudly Jewish community.

I’d really suggest if you’re feeling hopeless for a fulfilling Jewish future, that you reach out to whatever local Jewish leftist organisations you can find, and even if there aren’t any where you are you can definitely find supportive Jewish spaces online (for example the loud Jew collective in Melbourne holds virtual book clubs and I’ve discovered some of my favourite books through them).

In my experience at almost every pro Palestine rally I’ve been to there’s at least a small group of Jews (although I admit that probably varies by region, for me they’re usually associated with the tzedek collective) who are lovely and great fun to hang out with, I attended a shabbos dinner/candle lighting outside our prime ministers office recently and it was so wonderful I’ll admit I cried a little. I had some of the sweetest conversations with local Palestinian activists there too.

If you develop a strong enough immediate network of leftist Jews it doesn’t make the cruelty go away, but it removes a lot of the weight it has. It helps a lot with that ask from from a random blog with no profile picture calling me a race traitor if I can immediately turn my phone off and go chat up my real tangible Jewish friends about how stupid it is.

It can feel hopeless, Zionists try so so incredibly hard to make us feel like we’re nonexistent and irrelevant but leftist Jews are literally everywhere and we’ve got each other. Some of the earliest opposition to political Zionism was from working/lower class and orthodox Jews, we’re nothing new.

I promise that however lonely it feels right now it won’t be this way forever, you’ll be able to find a community that won’t force you to sacrifice your culture for your morals. You’re always welcome to dm me if you want to talk about any of this stuff, it’s definitely incredibly difficult and you’re right for feeling a little insane about all this.

I’m not sure if you’ve seen it, but there’s a video I saw a little bit ago of a Jewish woman like- hysterically crying because she was so frustrated by the complacency of the Jewish community and she said something about how it feels like she’s going insane. It really resonated with me but I admit it was hard to watch and I feel incredibly bad for her, I hope she’s doing at least a little better now. It really can feel like the whole world has lost its mind, sometimes I look at the kind of shit Jews online are defending through gritted teeth and it makes me want to scream, but I’m still proud that I am able to confidently stand by my morals even while so many of my religious peers try their hardest to gaslight, fearmonger, traumatise and guilt me into changing my stance. (Just a heads up it won’t work, not many people decide to re join a cult once they escape from it lol)

I guess my point is that you’re completely right to feel like you’re losing it a little, and my advice would be to seek out irl leftist Jewish friends and also just steer clear of reddit all together. Sorry for the rant but I had a lot to say and I hope that some of it was at least a little reassuring for you anon and for anyone else in similar turmoil reading this

❤️🕍🇵🇸🕊️🌊

#Judaism #free palestine #israel #fuck israel #jews for palestine #palestine #free gaza #israel is a terrorist state #jumblr #npd #Israel solidarity #support Israel #antisemitism #am yisrael chai #Jewish community #Jewish leftist #leftism #leftist

[virgo-dream]

More of the LGBTQ+ club au? When dream goes the next day and the students work to get them to confess and start being a couple?

@aquilathefighter, @btw-it-also-travels-in-time, @acanthoscurria

hi!!! 1st of all, I'm sorry for taking so long to finish this! When I thought my computer was broken for good it really drained me of any will to write, then New Years happened and I was drained of any energy at all. I'm getting back to all my fics slowly though, and this is the first one i've finished, so here you go!! part two :)

read part one here! you can also read the whole fic on ao3 ✨

One of Their Own (pt. 2)

Dream stood outside the New Inn, hands tucked safely inside the pockets of his coat jacket. He watched as groups of young adults arrived, greeting each other cheerfully. The hair colours and outfits reminded him of his sister, Delirium, but they all seemed to be more in line with her previous self; delighted to be there, happy to meet their friends. A flag danced in the light summer breeze on a pole next to the window, the stripes of colours brightening up the already lively scene. A rainbow, Hob had told him the day before, was the most recognizable symbol of the queer community. It now was accompanied by stripes of light pink and blue, white, black and brown. Dream enjoyed good symbolism, and he could feel the meaning of those colours to all who were present from their daydreams alone. 

He, however, still felt like an outsider. Like he wasn't really meant to be there, save for Hob's generous invite. Dream was not defined by the same standards humanity aligned itself with; in fact, he wasn't defined by anything at all. He was not an individual, but the safe arms in which those dreamers rested every night, the common thread in their hopes, in their restful slumber. It would be silly to think that he'd need to identify as one thing or another, really. He was there for Hob. Because Hob invited him. Because he wanted to know more about the everyday life of his dearest friend. Because he wanted to hear him talk, see him inspire others with his tales, wanted to hear the sound of his voice, the gentle way in which he made people feel welcome, cared for, loved, he wanted–

Dream thought it best to wait it out, at least until most people had already arrived, until he had an idea of just how many young, hopeful minds would be in the vicinity. After escaping the Burgess Manor, Dream was faced with a considerable raise in the amount of dreamers under his care. He would not admit it to anyone but himself, but at times, it became too much even for him to bear. The idea of willingly walking into a space with so many people was daunting, to say the least.  So he waited, watched as the New Inn became packed with dreamers, feeling his palms dampen inside the pockets of his coat.

Taking the first step towards the door was difficult. Pushing it open was even harder. Dream stepped in, careful not to bump into anyone or to even get too close. The sound of the little bell that was supposed to announce his arrival had no effect, as it was overtaken by the sound of chatter inside the Inn. It was better that way, Dream thought. Not having Hob rush to greet him. That way he could take a moment to adjust to his surroundings, maybe even blend in, become invisible. In hindsight, his usual choice of attire did anything but blend in there. He was a dark little cloud in a sky full of bright colours, like a multi-coloured sunset on a tropical beach. And of course, every sunset had its monarch, shining brightly, commanding the attention. That, of course, was Hob.

"Hello there, kids! Glad to see most of you could make it!" The cheerful, gentle register of Hob's voice filled the room, filtered by the small but potent speaker he'd rented just for the occasion. Dream could hear his voice clearly, and it helped him tune out everything else that wasn't his beloved friend. "This is the first of hopefully many meetings of our beloved Queer Clubs here at my beloved New Inn. I want you all to know this is a safe space for you all no matter what part of the gender and sexuality spectrums you fall on. The only things I won't accept here are discrimination of any kind, and anyone that thinks Lawrence Cheney shouldn't have won season 2 of Drag Race UK. Are we clear on that one?"

Laughter filled the room, and Dream couldn't help but allow his lips a small smile. Hob truly was a marvel. How anyone could shine so brightly was beyond even the dream lord's knowledge, but he was glad to be able to bask in that glow from time to time. He wished he could do it more often.

Hob was saying other things, Dream thought. Instructions on seating arrangements, subjects to be discussed, discounts on food and drinks. All Dream could do was watch as Hob did more than just make everyone feel welcome, but inspired them with hope and joy, a gentle breeze of acceptance, the embrace of a parent, the empathy of an equal. There was much to work with here, much to inspire new dreams. Dreams of comfort and love, of community and pride. 

"Dream? You in there, love?" 

Hob's voice broke the spell he himself had cast over Dream, who could now see his friend's palm waving in front of his eyes. He'd become lost in thought, it seemed. Dream's nose scrunched up at the interruption, looking at Hob with his usual look of curiosity. There was still much he needed to catch up on when it came to non verbal communication. "Aye. I'm here. Have I not fully manifested my presence?" 

Hob chuckled, and his eyes wrinkled at the corners. "Oh, yes. Physically, at least." Dream's brows furrowed in worry, and he was glad Hob was quick enough to notice when something had gone over his head. "Just a joke– hey, I'm glad you could make it. The kids will love meeting you."

"Meeting me? There are far too many people here for you to make introductions. Besides, I know them all, and they all know me. They just do not remember it during waking hours." 

This felt like a plausible enough explanation to keep Hob from actually introducing him to everyone in attendance. But Hob was far too optimistic to be dissuaded so easily. "I'm not talking about introducing them to Morpheus. I'd like them to meet my friend, Dream."

"I do not see the difference." He shouldn't say why he couldn't bear the idea of being introduced to so many people. Shouldn't burden Hob with his problems, that wouldn't exist had he just not been captured in the first place. Dream had been good at hiding his discomfort so far, and he'd continue to do so.

…well, maybe he was not so good at it. Not when Hob's eyes so clearly conveyed the worry that had just settled in his heart. It was difficult to deny Hob the truth when his warm, calloused hands took Dream's into his own so carefully, squeezing gently, as if saying you can trust me. I've got you. "It's okay if you'd rather not. I know it can be overwhelming sometimes."

"...thank you." Dream replied with a murmur. Hob gifted him with a smile. It seemed a lot could be said with just the eyes.

–––

Even if Dream didn't intend on actually joining in on the conversations being held, he was glad to follow Hob along and listen to the discussions. It was amazing seeing just how bright the kids really were: they spoke of justice and equality, of inclusivity, of respect and love, of family and religion and sex and responsibility. It was a wider range of topics than he'd expected, an awareness of self he didn't think humans would ever possess, and now, he was glad to be proven wrong. He listened to their shared experiences, to the kindness in their eyes as they lifted each other up, the melody of their laughter and the bravery in their voices as they spoke of injustices they'd lived. It was fascinating, really.

What Dream was truly surprised to find was that people had, after all, an understanding of self that went beyond just physical. Hob brought him closer to a group of kids who were in a long discussion on gender identity. Some of them felt comfortable with the gender they'd been "assigned with at birth", others did not feel any affinity for it. Some of them had changed their bodies to fit with how they felt on the inside, and Dream couldn't help but feel enormous empathy for them, for the way they had to fight to exist in a body that didn't feel like a trap. It was something Dream always took for granted, until he himself felt the horror of having no agency over himself. The pain they went through to guarantee they'd have the right to live authentically. Dream's body had never been limited to an exclusive physical manifestation; he was as he felt like. Fluid, as one of the bright colour haired people had pointed out while explaining their own experience. They reminded Dream of his own sibling, Desire. Someone else brought up how they didn't particularly feel like they had a gender, and that the language surrounding it didn't particularly bother them. Agender, the girl said proudly. Dream wondered if there was any right or wrong way to declare oneself fluid or agender. Then he realised the tightness in his chest when the thought occurred to him.

"Are you alright?" Once again, Hob's voice brought him back to the Waking. Dream could now feel Hob's hand on his own again, but he wasn't sure what exactly had warranted it. 

"Your hands were shaking."

Once again, Dream's physical form betrayed him. It was also clear how the conversation surrounding them had gone quiet, and more eyes than he would have liked had landed on their linked hands. He didn't like being watched. Like that.

"Oh, Mr. G, is this your boyfriend?" one of them asked, teasingly. "Would have never guessed you had a thing for goths!"

"Marissa, stop!" someone else said, poking the girl on the shoulder apprehensively. The next thing they said was soft as a whisper.  "They are clearly not feeling well."

They. 

Dream had never considered himself as they. But this person, whoever they were, preferred "not to assume" his gender. And the empathy displayed for his discomfort was something he wasn't expecting either. Hob seemed to be about to say something, but Dream was quicker.

"There is no need to worry for my well-being, but I thank you for your kindness." Dream allowed himself to smile once again. These children were going places, he knew it. "You may address me as he, if necessary. I would not oppose her or them either." It felt liberating to say it, and Dream didn't really know why. He did know, however, that he suddenly felt brave. "I am not Professor Gadlen's boyfriend, but I am honoured to call him my dearest, most cherished friend."

Dream looked at Hob, who seemed to be awestruck by his words. It was amusing to see him like that, and it lit something else inside him. This meeting was making Dream experience a range of feelings he'd forgotten about. He showed Hob a smile, and Hob smiled back at him, warm and gentle as ever. Their hands were still linked together. Dream had no intention of letting go. "Ah, yes. This little prick here is indeed my dearest, oldest friend. I did want them to meet you guys. I'm glad I was right about it."

When Hob said it, it made Dream's heart sing. 

"...so you're fuckbuddies?"

"Marissa!"

–––

After a few hours and many, many rounds of different conversations, Hob gathered the group once again, thanking them for coming and congratulating everyone on the success of their first meeting. Dream couldn't help but notice how Hob seemed unable to stop smiling. He could feel the pride and relief radiating off of his tanned skin and kind eyes. Dream wished he could have it all directed at himself, that gentleness. 

Hob's boyfriend. Now that would be something.

Dream sat on the booth table behind the bar where he and Hob usually held their meetings and waited for everyone to leave. He wanted some time alone with Hob, even if just to hear what his beloved friend had to say about what he thought of the meeting, just to hear Hob's voice, the only music suited for Dream's ears. 

He also had so many new feelings inside himself to explore. Those he could tend to later.

"Hey there, handsome stranger." Hob said as he sat across from Dream on the table, taking Dream's hand in his as if it was just the way they always did things. Maybe it could be. It wouldn't hurt (too much) to hope, would it?  "Come here often?"

"Only when I'm in search of an epiphany." Dream couldn't bother to hide the fondness in his own voice, nor the relief he felt to have Hob's hand cradling his own again. "I am impressed, Professor Gadlen. You have gathered a group of exceptionally bright minds. It gives me hope for a better future for humanity."

"Wow Dream, that is… that is really high praise, especially coming from you." Hob seemed flushed, and Dream wondered what else he could do to cause that reaction, to see Hob shy and pretty like that again and again. "I learned a long time ago that I have to build the future I want to live in. But in all honesty… I'm more interested in the present right now."

"Oh, is that so?" Hob's optimism was infectious, it seemed. Dream too could only focus on the present moment. "I am glad to be able to share it with you."

There was a short silence shared between them after that. It was as if neither of them were ready to say whatever it was they clearly needed. Dream tried to take comfort in the feeling of Hob's hand in his, rubbing the back of Hob's hand with his thumb. 

His mistake was looking up to meet Hob's eyes. 

"There is much I have learned today." Dream decided he'd be the one to break the silence. He'd be the one to take the leap, because he knew Hob had made sure he'd make a safe landing. He knew that no matter what happened, no matter how much he could get hurt, he was safe. He could trust Hob with his heart, even if there was a chance that he would break it. "I often make the mistake of thinking there is nothing more to my existence than what I have already discovered. I contain all conscious minds throughout the universe, their lives, hopes and dreams. Yet, I forget that the tales of others cannot substitute one's own experience, only enlighten it."

Hob listened to Dream's words attentively. He looked anxious, but would not interrupt. Dream knew he wouldn't. He knew how much Hob cherished the moments where Dream felt ready to share something new. "Today, you have once more shown me there is much I have to learn. For that, I am grateful, Hob Gadling."

How could Dream not fall in love with someone that treated him like he was the moon? How could the moon not love the sun? 

"I'm grateful for you too, you know. The kids loved you. I'm sure I'll be getting asked about you for the rest of the semester. Maybe even longer." Hob's eyes were so fond it made Dream want to cry. 

"And how would you like to answer their inquiries?"

"What do you mean?"

"Would you like to tell them of your dearest, oldest friend…" Dream leaned in, bringing Hob's hand to his own cheek. He pressed a soft kiss to Hob's palm, and watched as Hob's eyes followed his every move. There was no turning back from this. "...or would you prefer to tell them about your lover, Hob?"

For a moment, time stopped. Their eyes met, and before Dream could get anxious or regret his words, Hob was already standing and leaning over the table, locking their lips together. 

Dream thought he'd heard the sound of people cheering outside one of the windows of the New Inn. Hob would certainly be getting many questions from his students come next monday.

#dreamling fanfic #dream x hob #morpheus x hob #dream of the endless #morpheus #hob gadling #the sandman #the sandman fanfic #ao3 fic #ao3 fanfic #dreamling #ask fic #virgo dream writes #thank you everyone for being so patient!!!

[alexenglish]

I remember a few years ago there was a conversation about young parenthood on your blog and I found it really refreshing, especially since it's hard to hear about queer parenting in the first place unless you're actively seeking those stories out. Feel free to ignore, but how did you ever find the courage to navigate life as a queer young parent in an increasingly cis-centric world, and, if I can ask, what have been some unexpected positives about it (or positives you didn't think would happen but happened). (Sorry this is so formal, lol, I don't know whats up with me)

honestly, i have such a strong set of beliefs that i am compelled to parent in a way that is authentic to those beliefs, how i experience the world, and my own identity so it's less about courage and more about me being insufferable and correct and knowing what matters lmao

i do have the immense privilege of an incredible support system. even if the outside world is telling my kiddo that unicorns are for girls and boys shouldn't be sensitive, everyone who has a hand in raising him has a lot of the same fundamentals to teach him from. they either completely understand where i'm coming from when it comes to teaching him certain things/allowing him to express himself in certain ways, firmly believe those things themselves, or are willing to try to understand when it's something important. not having to defend myself to those close to me goes a long way. we are undoubtedly safe and comfortable and, most importantly, consistent. i don't have anyone close to him undermining us and telling him he can't cry or can't wear his hair long or that there are only two genders.

the most unexpected positive for me is talking to other parents who want to do what i do but don't really have a blueprint for it. a lot of people raise their kids like they were raised and parrot a lot of stuff their parents said and don't even realize that it doesn't align with what they actually believe or the values they want to teach their kids! they're just adhering to a script and they don't know they can go off it and make a generational change. i love having casual conversations with parents where i can refute the script and make them kind of light up in epiphany. and it's funny because it's not like i know jack shit either! we're all just learning! but sometimes what i think is obvious isn't to them and when we talk about it, it shifts their perspective. it's fun to be the person that makes them think more deliberately about how they're parenting!

anyway idk parenting is SUPER weird and it's a little bit of a landmine because it's a very sensitive subject for a lot of people, but it's between your family and your little and that's the framework that matters most. the work you're putting in at home. what you believe. what they believe. encouraging them to draw their own conclusions. we've personally done a lot of 'if you like it, that's what matters' work in the last couple of years because the kids at school telling him boys shouldn't like unicorns and he shouldn't paint his nails and pink is stupid, and while we're working on how important it is to deconstruct misogynistic thinking, he also has to has the confidence in himself and his interests outside of what his peers think of them and it's my responsibility to give him that confidence.

uhm honestly i'm not sure if that was the answer you were looking for, but thanks for asking. i really love talking about parent shit.

#mic check #anonymoose #parent tag

[everybodyknows-everybodydies]

Kharish + 12 please!

12: candles

It took all they had to wedge a barrier up. Looking at it, from town, it doesn’t look nearly strong enough, flickering thin and translucent around the silent stone towers, a pale aurora across the sky behind mocking the staunch silhouette, and the faint glow of that awful sickly blue light pulsing still from the pinprick of the broken doorway, where poor Savos—

With a start, Colette blinks, her own smudgy, hollow-cheeked reflection briefly in focus in the window instead—ghoulish—she twists away from it and scrubs at her eyes with the heel of her hand. There was nothing to be done. There was nothing to be done. Even if any of them had been faster it wouldn’t have mattered, the way he crumpled easily as paper in the air, wrung out like an old rag, the snow below sizzling red.

“Mistress Marence?” She looks up. Kharish, with the split lip she wouldn’t let her touch—she’s thinking of them all in wounds, now. Mirabelle and the knee she twisted because she wouldn’t move until they’d shoved the last student out the gate. Faralda and her wrenched shoulder welding the iron shut in a grim fist. Urag with his hand and cheek studded with broken lens glass. Tolfdir’s bloody nose and violent tremors, seizing the whole damned bridge—“Yours went out,” she realizes Kharish is saying, one hand cupped around the flame of a short, stout candle.

She isn’t smiling; hasn’t, really, since she left to chase after the Synod. Something else that’s broken.

“Here. It’s better when it’s not so dark. How long are you going to be up?”

“How long are you going to be up?” It sounds an accusation. Colette rubs at her eyes again, starting to stand. She might mean it, if she isn’t careful. “I need to—”

“Everyone’s fine for now. It’s okay.” Kharish sets the candle on the round little table next to the one that’s already burnt out and lowers herself into the chair across from her. “You did a good job.”

She huffs a breath, hard enough the weak flame shudders. “Don’t. Don’t, really.” Her gaggle of adepts handled themselves better than she’d been afraid they might. Setting fractured bones and stitching shut gashes is one thing; it’s far and away another when you know the face under the blood.

“I don’t think the Hearth has seen this many people at once in an age.” The candle is almost shorter than the one that’s gone out, liquid wax pooling in the deep center well of it, threatening to drown the wick. She catches her eyeing it—puts out a hand to draw the flame a little higher. “Sorry, it’s—I know.”

Movement out the window. The uniformed silhouettes next to two more familiar shapes standing in exhausted attention at the foot of the bridge. Like a vigil. Like a wake—

Colette leaves the chair with an abrupt thmp to stand over her, takes her by the chin. Eyes darting to affix her gaze to the ceiling, Kharish goes very still, already half-braced. It doesn’t look as bad, with the blood cleaned off her mouth, but as soon as she touches her it becomes apparent she’s bitten her tongue too. Not clean through, and she’s been talking still, but it must hurt. “You should have said something.”

“What, for this? Not worth bothering anyone with. Especially with others worse off who had the wherewithal not to put their faces right in the way of flying stones.” There, just a twitch of a smile, rueful. “And I—thought I could try to fix it myself. Clearly couldn’t quite manage, though.”

“You haven’t even got a mirror,” Colette scoffs. “Stop talking a moment. —you need to be able to see what you’re doing. And of course it’s harder to do for oneself.” Flesh threaded into alignment, she pulls with one quick sharp movement, watches her lip knit back together and the startled gag she tries to stifle as her tongue does the same in her mouth. “Because you always know when to flinch.”

She lifts a hand towards her own face, running her tongue over her teeth—touches her wrist instead, fingertips light, just above the end of her sleeve. “Thank you.” She does smile, now: not as bright as it ought to be, but no less warm, a candleflame of her own. “I’ll have to see if I can find a mirror to take with me before I go.”

Of course it’s real. The woman doesn’t have a smile that isn’t real. Only—shaded differently. It would be easier if there were even one she didn’t mean, in some way or another.

“You shouldn’t,” Colette says suddenly. She lets go of her face, retreats for the chair, where her hands might burn less.

Her smile, too real, too soft, flickers with the wavering shadows. She would have already left if they hadn’t asked her to wait for morning. As if thin ribbons of daylight will make the destination forgiving. As if she’ll take the sleep. Here, instead, with her, with a candle more liquid wax than wick. “Who, then?”

No one. No one else. Is it so selfish, to want nothing changed, to want no one lost—her knuckles are white, fingers locked around each other. The dark robes of the Archmage going impossibly ever darker, sticky and staining under her useless hands. She can’t mend what isn’t there. What good is a body made whole again if it’s been left emptied?

On the teetering wooden table, silent as the dead, the light drowns.

#writing tag #Kharish gra-Shatul #(sitting in my corner going. hello. is all the neon bright enough -)

[linksthoughtbrambles]

directors cut of Link’s Thought Brambles, particularly the section where Zelda’s magic strength comes to light? That part lives in my head rent free lol

First of all thank you for asking, Dee, and 🥰!

In my head, there's a distinction between:

Skills and magic Link and Zelda (& others in the LoZ universe) simply have innately

Magic which can awaken within themselves

and Magic which can become available to them through artifacts like the Triforce, the Master Sword, or now the new Tears of the kingdom.

Just as an example, Yunobo already could use Daruk's Protection (it's innate to him) but he gained at least one new ability when he awakened as a sage due to the Tear - he could now give Link a duplicate of himself.

I already basically had it working the same way for Link and Zelda in my head!

So I decided on things that made sense to be innate to Zelda if interpreted the way I did in this fic, which is to be a direct reincarnation of Hylia who has lived many lifetimes:

'Muscle' memory - she's spent previous lifetimes as an excellent archer, so she remains one. I figure she has buried 'memories' of hand-to-hand combat too, but maybe not as much or not in the same way as Link.

Stronk! - The reincarnation of Hylia just makes sense to me to be stronger than normal.

Super smarts - She's aligned with wisdom, so I figure she has a huge capacity and affinity for learning. (This is the one that has direct game evidence - the others are really just my headcanons).

I waffled back and forth on how good of a horseback rider she should be and came to the conclusion that yes, she does that in some games but not like Link does, wow - he's so often on a horse!!

So - when Zelda's magic strength comes to light in the fic, it's simply something she always had but was never forced to employ. Here's where game evidence does come in again for why she would not have displayed the physical abilities in the past: BotW goes out of its way to show us that Zelda never had to physically protect herself or anyone else because someone else was always doing it. Evidence below:

Link protects her from the Yiga.

Link kills all those monsters in Eldin to protect her in the memory where Zelda's concerned about his blurred line between courage and recklessness.

Urbosa protects Zelda from the Yiga that stalk them outside Gerudo town.

Daruk rushes to save the dog in the memory where she asks him to pilot Rudania - Zelda hangs back and doesn't get involved.

In the memory where Mipha supports Sidon in swimming up the waterfall, Zelda is very dubious about it. She immediately jumps to the idea that Sidon is too young - that something more like coddling is the right move. I propose that this is evidence of how Zelda was raised physically.

Link takes all the blows at the battle of Fort Hateno until the very end, when she knows the next one will kill him and she can't bear it.

All of that to say, Zelda is extremely dedicated but believes the physical fighting is someone else's job, so she doesn't step in until it's almost too late in BotW.

But what if something had convinced her that she needed to change her way of thinking and behaving earlier? Something like standing by helpless while Link is very nearly killed by a mob? Something similar to, but not exactly like, his near-death at the hands of the guardians at Fort Hateno? What if she realized she could have prevented it, had she stood between him and the people at the melee? What if she recognized that Link was not invulnerable much earlier, and wanted to be able to help him should the need arise?

That's where the scene of her (and everyone else) realizing Zelda already had innate abilities came from. She had them always, but the only one which had come to light was her smarts - because Princesses do get educated, don't they? 😃

I see those abilities as separate from what awakens when she does step between Link and certain death - I think those abilities come from her alignment with the complete Triforce, and in other games from her having access to the Triforce of Wisdom.

Small spoiler: I also intend to cheaty-cheat a bit in Adventure Log+ because I want the Bow of Light to be magic she can dredge up from herself because she's a reincarnation of Hylia. I... don't really have evidence for that. It's just how I want it to work. 😅

Wrote you a book 😅. Hope it is fun to read! Thanks again for the ask.

Oooh - and let me know if this wasn't actually the question 😅

#link's thought brambles #zelda theory #but also zelda headcanons #adventure log+ au #answering asks

[twiafom]

HYPER LIGHT DRIFTER AU SALES PITCH

aka alka and i played hld for over 6 hours and i got them attached to it by making it into a hijack au in between dying in stupid ways

okay hld character assignments or "trust me bro" the post

jack: the drifter. it's all there. came from the north looking for the immortal cell to cure himself, hiccup finds and saves him in front of the library. his hub is a little tooth fairy

hiccup: the guardian, IT'S ALL THERE x2 guardian of the town aka berk, became a drifter looking for the cell after the death of his parents from (sorry stoick and valka it's backstory). his hub is a small toothless robot he's very attached to

man in the moon: the jackal, chooses worthy people to become drifters and find the immortal cell to destroy it and pitch, restoring his powers and stopping the corruption

pitch: judgement, a scientist from a previous age infected by the immortal cell and now locked in a war with the man in the moon for control of the cell's wellspring/power to destroy the world as he spreads corruption through the world and disease to drifters

astrid: the weapons master, she's got her dojo and trains people 💪 she's right next door to hiccup and always down for a spar

tooth: dash master, next door to astrid, they hang out at each other's places when tooth sword trains and astrid tries to get better at dashing with the best teacher around

heather: alt drifter/altie, sees jack in passing but hangs out at astrid's dojo and stays with hiccup when she's around

sandy: the librarian, a long gone drifter who compiled information into monoliths

north: the minotaur, runs the arena and had the same vision of the cell from man in the moon, but his drifter days are over and he now supports jack and hiccup

ruff and tuff: merchants in town, saved by hiccup from their shenanigans more than once

bunny: the techie, peddler of bombs and grenades. reluctant to sell them to jack

fishlegs: the traveler in south, investigating the old tech in the desert

snotlout: the bandit, except less of a dick and more of a nuisance who's still very good at upgrading guns

jamie: SOCCER KID he and jack ball together, jack loses every time

AND HLD SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT if anyone actually cares about that here. au story summary essentially

WARNING FOR MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH because this is major character death the game sorry there's no escaping that

jack comes down from the north looking for the immortal cell + cure for pitch/judgement disease, rescued by hiccup outside of the library after category 5 judgement disease moment. hiccup takes him back to town And Then They Were Roommates™️ so basically this all aligns with canon

they're both looking for the same thing because hiccup also had the immortal cell vision and has pitch/judgement disease, they decide to team up for the search. hiccup maps out the modules, they explore together, jack dashes to stupid places and gets stuck and alka laughs at me etc etc

AND THEN SOUTH

hiccup goes on ahead to map, jack doesn't join or even know he's gone, he's in town spending as much time as he can with the people there he's grown attached to, but he also knows they're both getting sicker and with no places left to go they're nearing the end of the line

he goes to the south to look for hiccup and finds him with a pile of slain enemies and a mortal wound, but even without that hiccup has been getting worse with each zone

hiccup tells jack about losing his parents and striking out on his own after the man in the moon gave him a vision, and in one final goodbye and hope to keep a memory, jack takes his cloak and toothless when hiccup dies. he goes through south on his own but it's not the same without hiccup there to snark with, be his partner, his GUARDIAN!!! and he drags himself through each battle

he finally heads to the abyss for one last stand off with pitch/judgement to destroy the cell, finally faces his demons and destroys it, freeing the man in the moon. the cell was never a cure though, and he's too far gone and finally accepts it. makes his way through the abyss with a fatal wound and baby tooth and toothless hubs by his side, and sees one last gifted vision of peace from the man in the moon before he leaves the world, and jack goes too to meet hiccup in the afterlife

panacea.mp3

AND SCENE.

#hld au #talking tag #alka l. frog #will maybe make one of these for tos and te/lius when i get around to it/won't spoil tos for alkabin (alka and robin)

[bellabaxtr]

@lottieurl tagged me to share my unpopular opinions about 5 fandoms!

yellowjackets

love and light but i hate mistynat. like i know people shipped it before nat died but to me it really feels like the momentum started afterwards, surrounding the whole oh no misty accidentally killed the love of her life and she's so sad and it's fucked up and crazy too!!! which sure if that floats your boat go for it. but to me it feels a lot like just a justification for nat's sloppy and narratively unhelpful death. if i didn't feel this strongly about nat's death i might not care as much about mistynat. we all know i'm a natlottietravis girl and it just feels so much more!!!!!! like the narrative is connecting these three people and their actions are all rippling out to affect each other. every single thing natalie does in season 1 is motivated by travis, just like everything she does in 2 is either in opposition to or alignment with lottie. misty just doesn't fit in there at ALL for me. and is actually just a distraction. and i can live with it all unless season three is the Misty Is Sad About Killing Nat season. i will tap out if that's the case. also just overall season 2 was a flop and they better pull something MAGICAL out of their asses to get me to the place i was like pre-2.05

house of the dragon

my main hotd take is that daemon is essential to both the story AND to the existence of rhaenicent. you cannot have one without the other. rhaenyra is shaped by both daemon and alicent from childhood and is tied to them for the rest of her life. removing daemon from that equation or treating him as anything but a person that rhaenyra loves and needs is pointless and a complete misunderstanding of the show. christon sucks ass. alicent is a full on lesbian. larys also sucks ass and there's no juice between him and alicent it is simply creepery.

shadow and bone

i mean this probably isn't too unpopular for my followers but widely just like. darklina is forever and always what that series is about. mal is a useless waste of space who wants what is worst for alina. alina starkov should be allowed to kill and maim and drink aleksander's blood and have nasty insane sex!!!! the ending of ruin and rising is literally a death sentence for her and not in the murder-suicide way that i want!!!!!!!!!

succession

again like i know my mutuals will agree but. romangerri is literally the most important non-sibling dynamic in the entire show and roman's character is so much more more fleshed out and interesting with gerri involved. AND the same goes for gerri. those two are in LOVE love even if they will never know it. they have multiple shoes please esk moments like are you kidding me. roman ceo gerri chair would have been my ideal ending in a dream world

hacks

i hate jimmy and kayla. i like them separately but every time they are onscreen together the entire episode starts dragging and i have to slap myself to stay engaged. the weird sexual harrassment joke went on WAY too long but even outside of that i'm like paul. paul. i know you wrote yourself into the show but PLEASE

no pressure, but tagging @nicollekidman @alyswesthill @lottienat @sapphicscience @tennesseewillams and @hunterbiden and anyone else who wants an excuse to shit talk

#tagged #thank you rose i love an excuse to talk shit

[onyourhyuck]

Dangerous Alliance. | l.hc (M) PT ONE.

synopsis; bae sarang looks nothing special on the outside, has black thick glasses and wears her thick black hair in a raw clip. ‘typical nerd’ people would describe her. but when she goes back home bae sarang is a genius hacker with high level of IQ. one day, she ends up hacking into a mafia security breach. Boy, did she regret it because her life was about to change for the worse.

warnings; mafia au, hacker au, smut!! No minors, mature language, mention of bad health, angst is here, enemies to lovers, denial, slow slow slowww burn, bae sarang is a sarcastic bbg and we love that <333, sarang really doesn’t take shit from men LMAO, haechan is an ass, fighting scenes, action is a major genre here because mafia ayo. slight comedy to break the tension.

✧;── table of contents ──; ✧

╭      ⁞ ❏. masterlist to other chapters.

┊      ⁞ ❏. next chapter: part 2 link.

┊      ⁞ ❏. previous chapter:

── ⳮⷤ ── ⲇ ── ⳮⷤ ──

“seriously sarang how do you keep getting such good grades! it’s as if you knew what was going to be on the paper.” giselle cries out, it was true, sarang makes sure to visit the school’s test paper website and hack into it. that way she can memorise the answers to the questions and get 100/100 with ease. sarang was always getting good grades without hacking in, but she would rather prefer a 100 than a 90.

sarang jokingly nudges giselle with a pout. “c’mon that’s crazy, i just study and you don’t!” she wasn’t wrong, giselle doesn’t study. she simply prays and hopes it gives her a good grade, relying heavily on two months worth of mind memorisation too.

the two girls were brought back from their lunch to their classes once again, final class and then sarang can go back home to her chambers. as anyone could tell, the girl is a homebody. everyone sees her as this innocent quiet nerdy girl but little did they know sarang true form.

the bus restarting the engine outside the building. sarang left to reopen the apartment door, shutting it close. darkness with barely any light, a large computer set up when entering the girl’s bedroom. long four table set up linking together, four screens aligned on top with one keyboard controlling them all. touch screen as well, sarang can easily make quick decisions by using her fingers. two monitors underneath along with specialised military apps that sarang happened to find three years ago without being caught and found out.

the girl uses fake vpns along protection data from viruses. sarang was unstoppable. the girl evilly grins at the sight of her beautiful computer screens. the school bag was thrown onto the bed farther away, without a care. the young girl taking a seat on the spinny chair, moving forward as she turns the screens on. a bright light incoming.

“hehe let’s see who’s falling to their dooms now.” sarang said while rubbing hands, warming them up. a sudden notification brought sarang to look over to her phone, lifting it she read aloud.

“new Baekhyun album sales, only one in stock left!!”

“WHAT.” sarang gasps as her fingers flop on they keyboard, immediately setting a hacking program to get the album first before anyone. i mean seriously, it’s baekhyun! sarang wants to get her idols album. she has a bunch already but the collection needs to grow.

and she isn’t waiting till tomorrow for a fill up!

the room echoes focused finger tapping on the keyboards along with fast typing, bright green colour of the screen painting the dark room greenish and black with white bright screens on the side. monitor beeping regularly, a good sign sarang is doing fine. the program lettering starting to reveal a morse code.

sarang hums tapping the finger along with the code, trying to figure out the pattern. once doing so, she clogs on. “aha, i found it. double tapping.” sarang murmurs, same syllable being used as double taps to avoid being found out. she grins when the program was loading, she finished.

but then something really caught her off guard.

when looking at the front middle main screen, sarang imagined the album to be there in sight. so why was there a sudden red and black screen with red letters forming? she couldn’t understand. did she hack somewhere else? the monitor began to beep like a wild siren, sarang cussing when the opposite security was reacting like a virus.

the opposite side was being attacked too, not just the main screen but the two above it tackled by the program virus infecting it. sarang pressed the protection data that slowly began fighting the rest of the other screens as she types really fast, putting codes and whatnot to defeat whatever she hacked into.

sarang had no time to dwell on baekhyun’s album if she is under an attack. small droplets of sweat streaming down the side, heavy breathes with pants heard as her fingers curl to cramp but she held it, not wanting to lose. sarang swore this is quite a nasty place to hack in.

it was inflexible, stubborn and most definitely something top secret; she found the fbi servers easier than this. whatever it was, sarang will find out sooner or later.

a sudden stop heard when both programs paused, the green overtaking the red. sarang’s lips widely curve in a cocky laugh. “yeah that’s what i thought! surprise attack? fuck you, i won.” sarang had a little hype ceremony standing up, dancing as well as doing the la cucaracha in middle of her room, far away from the set up table.

the middle main large screen took her to a base security breech. sarang lowers her head coming closer, stopping the dance midway, squinting her eyes with her glasses lifting slightly. she sits back down scrolling around, a sunflower decaying as a logo of the breech.

it was sinister and dark, sarang couldn’t understand what she was looking at. i mean it for sure isn’t baekhyun’s damn album.

“what the fuck, did i hack into some dark kinky pornhub?” sarang groans, Baekhyun album overtaking her worried mind because it’s most definitely sold out now. she rubs the curtain bangs back a little, a really good file name taking the interest.

she grins. “haha fullsun? what file name is that. don’t tell me i hacked into nasa!” sarang commented shifting the mouse to the screen to click the file name. a hint of panic overcoming her body, she should’ve stayed curious.

“this isn’t nasa…” sarang lipped, scrolling down the horrifying pictures. gruesome people dead along with names and lettering.

what did she hack into? the more the screen were to roll down, the worse it got. sarang’s eyes sonic flash back and forth on each screen, she felt paralysed with this information. what the hell did she hack into?

the whole website would start to download to the usb locked in the computer monitor, sarang feels like this sight will need to be captured, it was a gut feeling. the girl quickly grasps the usb once the download finished, leaving the site and programs erasing it off the screen.

she exhales lightly staring at the usb, fingers curling on the surface of the cable. what did she exactly get herself into? luckily the vpn will trace her fake IP address to France, they won’t find her.

a knock on the door brought sarang to be cautiously moving upwards, another impatient knock on the door. sarang could imagine million scenarios of how this could end and who this could be; fbi? Seoul police? Best medical hospital in Seoul? yes she did hack into a hospital once. maybe it’s that weird security breech earlier and they will mince her ruthlessly in front of their sicko friends.

sarang points a taser towards the door as the anticipation killed her. “STAY AWAY DONT COME CLOSER—” the door slowly opens as the taser flickers forward, hitting nothing.

giselle glances at sarang with eyebrow raised. “what are you doing, sarang?” she questions. the girl backs away with a slight scream. “oh holy shit it’s just you! oh my god, why didn’t you call me.”

the taser moves out of sight as she welcomes her friend inside the apartment. sarang closing the bedroom door, she moves giselle to the small open kitchen and living room in one. she sits down humming.

“so what brings you over bestie?” sarang cooed bringing apple juice and two clear glass cups, giselle smirks. “there is a party happening tonigh-”

“no.” sarang midway interrupts, her best friend pouts, she knew the immediate answer but still, you gotta keep trying. sarang sighs. “i hate parties. i like being home.”

giselle curls forward hugging sarang’s one hand, shaking back and forth. “please sarangggg please please please!”

“nope.” sarang states again.

giselle pulls away with a wide smirk. she couldn’t of came without a blackmail present could she? giselle motions sarang’s attention to her as her jacket reopens revealing baekhyun’s newest album release today. “i knew you’d be like this that’s why I came here with a trump card.”

“are you blackmailing me because it’s working.” sarang comments with arms crossed, this isn’t fair!

sarang’s lips fall apart as if it were crumbling mountain, hands reaching to touch the holy album. giselle touch shift it backwards making sure sarang couldn’t touch it, putting a finger in front of sarang tutting back forth. “nahuh, unless you come to the party with me you’re not getting shit.”

she fixes the glasses in annoyance, maybe…going to the party won’t hurt? for Baekhyun she would do anything. sarang clears her throat. “fine, I’ll come with. what time are we leaving?” giselle stands up dancing up and down. “yesss! oh my god holy gods I’ve done it. we’re leaving at eight tonight.”

sarang sighs. “fine, now give me that damn album.” sarang remarks forward with hands out. she really wishes to get that damn album.

“boss someone has hacked into our base and now i can’t enter it without my screen freezing. i feel like she has deleted all our informatio.” the man sitting down frustrated told, the tan man with a white sleeve shirt, black tie and trousers, hair flowing nicely above the eyebrows symmetrically. “find her IP address, I can see she’s using a fake one. disable her vpn.”

“donghyuck.” a guy on the side called out when he pointed to the large live tv screen, a dark room with a bunch of Baekhyun posters on the walls. mark pauses. “I have managed to hack into her camera. she lives in Seoul, do you want me to send down tropes?”

the man smirks shaking his head when the screen became brighter, the sight of two girls opening the closet looking through clothes together. the one with the glasses sticking out particularly. “no don’t send my men down, instead…”

“find information about her such as the name age, work, make sure she isn’t some associated with police or fbi, and listen to their conversation, they look like they’re going somewhere.” donghyuck tells before walking away, he’s going to crush the girl who destroyed his high level security base.

✁- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“please refer from translating, copyrighting and plagiarising my work, thank you!”

╰─▸ ❝ @onyourhyuck has. . . . logged off.

˚ ༘♡ ·˚꒰ᥕᥱᥣᥴ᥆꧑ᥱ t᥆ Dangerous Alliance.꒱ ₊˚ˑ༄

#nct fanfiction #nct smut #nct x reader #nct series #haechan smut #nct u scenarios #haechan fanfic #dangerous alliance

[veilkeeper]

I HADN'T SEEN YOU REBLOGIGNG THAT ASK GAME!

ok so. one moment while i throw all of these at you, there will be two of these.

firstly for Roz (my beloved): 3 + 10 + 13 + 20 + 23 + 26 + 32 (im curious about the burn scars) and 48 <3

(consider the amount of questions payback, lov u <3)

oh... the quencies.... (im delighted) okay this one might take awhile

(questions from here)

3. What is your character’s moral alignment?

true neutral leaning to neutral good. they make most of their decisions from the "what benefits me/the people i care about the most" viewpoint with a little bit of the caveat "without needlessly fucking over random people"

10. If your Tav didn’t become an adventurer, what else would they be doing?

the last time they were in faerun they were making a living as a bounty hunter/contract killer in baldur's gate. they were good at it. so probably that!

13. How does your Tav fight in a combat situation?

in game mechanically a lot of their time is spent using ensnaring strike on an enemy and then shooting them until that guy is dead, rinse and repeat until the encounter ends. occasionally they'll also pop divine favour for some extra radiant damage, or cast shield of faith. in my mind palace where roz is allowed to be a powerful scion even before the tadpole, they do that but with a hefty dose of "also i can light you on fire with my mind <3"

(putting the rest under the cut)

20. If you’re romancing anyone, why did your Tav fall for them? And why did that character fall for your Tav?

ive talked about this a little bit before, but initially roz was not falling for astarion. it was like, "okay yeah we'll sleep together because you want to and i dont really care." but eventually, as roz got to start seeing a more genuine side of astarion and he started to really... mean the things he was saying to them, it became a lot more about "i think i can care about you, and maybe... just maybe... you could care about me?" and that's the sort of thing that shakes roz to their core. and coincidentally, astarion kind of goes through the same thing.

23. What is your Tav’s favorite moment they’ve had with their lover?

not you sending me questions that are making me go (*/ω＼*) in real life... okay with halsin i hc back in the shadow cursed lands that he would turn into his bear form and let roz sit up cozy against him because they are always cold (they are a toothpick) and i think that was just... really nice for them. with astarion.... i think the first time they end up in roz's tent together without any blood-drinking or sex. without even the suggestion of it. that's when it first hits for roz that this might actually be about more than a transaction, so that's their favourite moment.

26. What is the most prominent color in your Tav’s color scheme?

answered here!

32. How did your Tav get their scars, if they have any?

i promised id wait for this information to be ASKED for so here we go. basically i hc that roz was from a really small creche and when they were young-ish (10-12) a training raid drew a little too much attention and the creche was attacked. and well... you know how ive said before that they arent a very good githyanki? when their creche started to burn, instead of taking up arms, they hid. everyone in that creche had either told them they should be culled or had tried to cull them, so they didn't really care if the place fell apart. however, while they were hiding, a pile of burning debris fell on them, fucking up a lot of their right side. they managed to escape the creche and do-gooder types who had no idea what was happening saw a dying kid and dragged them to the nearest temple of lathander, and the rest is history.

48.  Where does your Tav feel most at home?

not to be so so so so so sappy, but whenever they get to cuddle astarion. dont tell him this, but he's kind of. everything to them.

#roz #asks #bg3 #thankieeee these were so fun to answer lov u too