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oathkeeper-of-tarth · 1 year ago

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Here's another long-winded post about me combing through BG3 early access files in search of Aylin and Isobel tidbits - rummaging that already resulted in this post right here. Let me just say I'm pleased to have brought Aylin Silverblood some attention because, again, I think it's a dope name.

Now, obviously, Isobel and Aylin are both Act 2 characters, and early access only covered Act 1. So anything related to them is partial stuff that wasn't scrubbed from the game files for whatever reason, and a lot of placeholders (these are usually indicated by |the text being in vertical lines|). This all means that sometimes (usually!) there are no nice voice lines indexed by UUID and parseable dialogue trees, and you have to trawl through a giant localisation XML of every bit of text in the game instead. An additional complication is all these stories were in flux, but older bits of writing from deprecated iterations didn't get immediately removed from the files, so it's sometimes hard to tell what belongs to which version.

The biggest luck I've had with regards to these two is the 24/11/2021 version of the game - EA Patch #6 Hotfix #19, aka game version v. 4.1.1.1356845, aka the source of Aylin Silverblood (my beloved). Here's a handy list of the patch and hotfix history, if you're like me and interested in this stuff. I'm actually wrangling files from 5 versions of the game right now, ranging from March 2021 to July 2022 - it's been a fun time. This old datamining post on reddit really helped narrow down the timeframe for me to look into.

Why am I doing this? I genuinely find it fun and interesting! There's some neat writing to be found! I crave more Isobel at all times! And I'm always into WIP and "how the sausage is made" type stuff. Also, tons of cool inspo for fics and headcanons.

Note, because I know that's a popular EA tidbit: this is all from after the Halsin killing Isobel variant was scrapped. This is, in fact, the version where she gets killed and soul trapped by Balthazar, and Aylin gets framed for it.

I'm going to start this off with my favourite part, and that is snippets of an early version of the Aylin/Isobel reunion from 2021. I've done my best to put them in order, but be aware a lot of this is still me speculating.

|[CINE: Nightsong teleports the party to the plaza in front of Last Light. As she looks around trying to familiarize herself, Isobel notices your arrival from the balcony. Her reaction is pure shock, followed by an immediate rush down the stairs.]|

|[CINE: Isobel dashes out of the front of the inn, wide-eyed and out of breath. Nightsong stares at her, stunned.]|

Aylin: |(distant, shocked) Isobel.|

Isobel: |Aylin...|

|[CINE: Nightsong takes an instinctive step towards her but stumbles, collapsing to her knees, eyes blown with pain and disbelief. Isobel closes the distance between them in hasty steps, trying to help Nightsong up, but Nightsong tightly grips at her arms - as if the contact makes everything real.]|

|[CINE: Isobel's eyes fill with tears as she drops down to the ground, throwing her arms around Nightsong's shoulders in a tight embrace. Shaking, almost fearful, Nightsong returns the embrace - the first kind touch she's had in a hundred years.]|

|[CINE: Nightsong draws back from the hug, looking Isobel in the eyes. Isobel helps Nightsong to her feet. As the two of them stand, they keep their hands linked.]|

Aylin: |A hundred years. Isobel, light of my heart, where were you? (choking up) I found your body, I....|

Isobel: |I was dead, Aylin. For so long. It was Balthazar - he trapped my soul, he-|

Player: |[Doesn'tKnowRelationship] You were lovers? Did Ketheric know?|

Aylin: |(jaw tightens) We were lovers. Her father was against it. He saw nothing but future misery. I'm immortal. I would never age, but she would.|

Isobel: |He didn't understand. It doesn't matter when... (fearful, as if worried Aylin's feelings might have changed) ... I still love you so much.|

Aylin: |(her first genuine smile) And I, you. No trial or pain could ever change that. (relaxes a touch) It is why I couldn't leave your body, even when they came. Balthazar and that Sharran witch told your father that I was to blame.|

|And he believed them over you?|

Aylin: |(frowns) He believed what he wanted to believe. Ketheric saw his daughter dead, and he saw someone he wanted to hurt. Shar took that cruel thread, that moment of mortal pain, and used it to corrupt him to the core.|

Aylin: |I was put on trial, and I had no defence. The moment it was over, I was taken down to the temple and... well, you saw what they had done.|

|Isobel presses against Nightsong's side, face tight with worry, running her fingers in slow strokes up and down Nightsong's arm.|

|[CINE: Nightsong tilts her head back towards the player.]|

Aylin: |These heroes saved me. Without them, I'd still be trapped in Balthazar's soul cage, with Ketheric gripping my heart like a leech.|

|[CINE: Isobel's face falls at the mention of her father's name.]|

Isobel: |A *soul cage*? Gods.|

Isobel: |I didn't know. Gods, he didn't say a word to me. I ran away because it was Balthazar that brought me back. As I ran, I heard my father shouting... but I'd seen enough. There was no saving him.|

Aylin: |You are not your father, Isobel. (sad, wry smile) You were the only thing that kept me alive in the dark. When hope began to fade, I simply thought of you.|

Isobel: |[To player] Thank you. (smiles wide) I... I can't possibly thank you enough, for bringing Aylin back to me.|

|Nightsong smiles too, but she's lost looking at Isobel, completely tuning out everyone else around them. Isobel leans in, resting her brow against Nightsong's and closing her eyes, Nightsong's hand clutched to her chest.|

Then, there is an option to press Isobel for details:

|You said the necromancer trapped your soul. Why?| |Was Balthazar the one who killed you, Isobel?|

Isobel: |(hesitant, visibly guilty) I think Aylin would know better than I do. The last thing I remember is a blade in the dark. Too fast to feel pain. Then silence.|

Asking Isobel to go with you to Moonrise was possible at various points, leading to different responses:

Will you come with me to Moonrise? I could use your help. If we're going to stop Ketheric, you have to come with me.

Until there is a way to keep Last Light safe, I cannot leave. All I can do is pray. |Not if everyone is killed at Last Light in my absence. I'll do everything I can to help you from here, but I won't go with you.| |Not if everyone is killed at Last Light in my absence. If someone else could take my place, I would go with you. I swear it.|

|Nightsong is here, she will protect Last Light - let's go to Moonrise, like you promised.| |I want to spend the night with Aylin. Meet me at Moonrise tomorrow.| |Nightsong will protect the people while together we can stop Ketheric.|

Isobel: I... we need to get close to him, don't we? And Aylin can protect Last Light in my absence. Aylin: Isobel, I have just gotten you back. To put yourself in his hands again-

Looks like we would've had a flip of the current Act 2 boss fight, and Isobel would be the ally for the confrontation with Ketheric, not Aylin. Also, that one line right there that is our first indication of Succor™, gotta love it. Sadly, post-reunion I only have:

|TBD: Post Nightsong Reunion.| |How are you and Aylin doing?|

To borrow release version Isobel's stock line: KEEPING VERY WELL, I HOPE? In any case, I'm putting the rest under a cut, featuring options for calling Isobel out on her parentage, Aylin being from Mt. Celestia, and Balthazar being gross - among many other things.

At one point quite early on, Isobel's protection from the shadow curse wasn't a spell, but an ointment:

|Ointment of Selûne| |Ointment Container PLACEHOLDER| |Isobel filled this with precious doses of her sacred Ointment of Selûne.| |First get the ointment from Isobel.| Have you received Isobel's ointment yet? What protection can her ointment offer, exactly? You should see Isobel. If Marcus does crop up, I'd sooner you had her ointment to protect you. Can use that cleric's ointment to get you on your way. But I have to move out - now. Can I get some of your ointment? No more theories! It's time for action. Our secret weapon needs to travel to Moonrise Towers, which means they'll need your ointment. You have the ointment. You have the Gate Stone. Moonrise Towers awaits. Are you sure the ointment will last long enough?

What is now Isobel's Ominous Cough was a gradual weakening that was remarked upon and seemed to be there to create more of a sense of urgency:

I won't claim to know Isobel's craft, but Selûne's light is bright in her. Isobel's tough - though she was tougher at the start. I've rarely seen a cleric so in tune with her goddess, but the curse is taking its toll. The light used to be stronger, Isobel. How much more of this curse can you take? You look paler than death, Isobel. How much more of this curse can you take?

We have some nice concise infodumps on Ketheric:

After Ketheric turned to darkness, the Enclave joined with the Harpers to unseat him and his Sharran cohorts. We marched together, fought together, bled together... and in the end we prevailed.

Only it wasn't the end. Nothing seemed to kill Ketheric himself, so the Harpers decided to seal him in his own tomb, alive. They thought that would be enough. But they hadn't counted on Ketheric unleashing the shadow curse. We watched it drain all light and life away from this place, saw it twist people into abominations. The Harpers lost hope.

Ketheric wove the curse on this land. The moment he was sealed in that tomb, Shar's poison devoured everything in its path.

Fallen paladin. Champion of Shar. He was building an army bent on unholy conquest, but we stopped him. Killed him. Buried him.

It was not enough. General Thorm lives again. He's built a new army, and this time he marches under the banner of the Absolute.

November 2021 is the earliest mention of Aylin I found, mostly marked as not finalised and placeholder dialogue (and that reunion up there). The Nightsong as present in that patch is still very different from what we ended up getting - nobody was killing her, in fact people were coming to get her "kiss", and there was a whole thing where it seems like Shar would directly take control of her and you could help her overcome the curse, or abandon her to it - or kill her.

Embrace the Nightsong and be sworn to Eternal Shadow.

Anyway, here are her lines (all of these exist as voice files, which is rare for stuff I put in this post - but they're done by a voice actress who doesn't sound like Helen Keeley, our final Aylin VA, so I don't know what to make of it all tbh):

Shar is the Nightsinger, and I am her Nightsong. I am her instrument, transforming the faithful into shadows. I've been here for centuries. Do you know how many priests of Shar came here, full of faith, seeking my kiss? I've been here for centuries. Thousands of Sharrans came here seeking my kiss. I drink their sorrow, their loss, their grief. Then I vomit it back into the world. All of them are shadows now. That is Shar's only reward. But Ketheric returned for my kiss, over and over. You're the first to survive my kiss intact. You're the only one who can help me. Please, you have to help. No one's ever resisted the kiss before. No one has ever resisted my kiss. But you are not merely *one*, are you? That thing in your head must be incredibly powerful to resist a goddess. Perhaps it's also divine in nature. Because a mind can't survive two masters. It breaks us. Shar's attention must be elsewhere. Speak quickly. She's watching now. She's waiting to steal my voice. But it won't last. Please - listen! I was captured by Ketheric Thorm, Shar's chosen. He turned me into this creature. I'm a slave of Shar. She owns me, just like that thing in your head owns you. I want to sing my own song. Not Shar's. Not *Ketheric's*. Find Ketheric. Kill him so I can be free! Slay Ketheric. His wretched existence binds me to this temple. Oh. That made her angry. The Lady returns! She has me again! *Again!* Stop! You've driven her away!

I am not your *spectacle*. Turn away before I strike you blind. Tell them to come and receive my kiss.

Some possible relevant tags, interactions, and outcomes include:

|The soul cage has greatly weakened Nightsong| |Debug: click to save Nightsong (sets the flag to talk to Isobel)| |We sided with Ketheric and doomed Nightsong.| |Companion comment!||But if his power is linked to this Nightsong, there must be a way to unlink it.| |You have taken control of Ketheric's Soul Cage| |You are bound to Ketheric's soul cage, taking his regenerative powers for yourself| |Bound to Soul Cage| |Soul Cage Key| |Soul Cage Research| |The book details the necromancer's research on the soul cage| |There is a glimpse of Isobel's ghost, as she takes her Father with her to the afterlife.| |There is a glimpse of Isobel's ghost terrified and in agony. Both Isobel and Ketheric will disappear.|

At one point Isobel delivers her own, Ketheric's, and Aylin's backstory as "a story", but sadly I can find very little of it, just disjointed fragments:

You seem to know a lot about Ketheric. He was a devout Selûnite who converted to Shar. They say it was Ketheric's purity that drew an angel down from Celestia. You're Isobel Thorm. The daughter who died in that story.

And there seem to be many options to question Isobel about her hiding the truth about her father:

Why are you lying to me, Isobel? Everyone thinks you're dead, Isobel. Tell me the truth, Isobel. Everything. Still, Isobel might have saved us some time had she been honest from the beginning. |Why didn't you tell me what happened from the start, Isobel?|

Ketheric. Don't you mean your father? Ketheric is your father. I know the truth. Ketheric told me at Moonrise. He wants me to bring you home. I need your father to trust me. He wants you back. You sent me after your father - Ketheric. I think we should discuss Ketheric - your father - first. For all you've said about Ketheric, you left out the part where he's your father.

To which I've found some responses:

And would you have trusted her? Ketheric's daughter? Why didn't I tell you that I was murdered, that my soul was locked away for a hundred years? What would I have told her? That my father murdered her fellow Harpers, but that I can surely be trusted?

[Attempt to read Isobel's thoughts.] *You see Ketheric standing before Isobel, although the memory is hazy. His words are unclear, but his tone is not - he is pleading with her.*

Brought back by the same man that killed me. Balthazar. Standing next to my father with a smile on his face.

But I'm not sure it would have mattered. To stand with that man, my father has surrendered to deepest evil.

I would love to know what the whole pleading thing is about, and what Isobel "didn't know" that she claims didn't matter anyway.

My father. After a century, he somehow brought me back. But I saw the monster he had become. I couldn't bear it... I ran. I ran until I found Last Light. It was like a second home to me, once. I've been studying the curse ever since, searching for answers. Trying to restore the damage my father has wrought upon this land. It's possible I may have to sacrifice myself. But this is my father's crime.

And then, there is this nugget I cannot place but that I like:

|Your father's due will come.|

There is also an option to tell her Nightsong is Aylin (who was, at this point, a full celestial - no mention of being connected to Selûne, though, and in fact, if she was indeed from Mount Celestia as mentioned in the "story", she would not have been):

Isobel: My father's curse still blackens this earth. Have you found anything? Player: A celestial, chained to Ketheric's soul. Player: They called her Nightsong, but she told me her name was Aylin. Isobel: Aylin. She... she's alive. I knew she had to be, I… Player: Ketheric's necromancer took her to Moonrise. Isobel: His necromancer? Gods, you have to free her. Isobel: You have to go to Moonrise and free Aylin. When Ketheric is weak, this can all be over. Isobel: The truth is that I would give anything to see her again, and anything to stop my father. Free her, and you do both. Isobel: At least, the shell of my father. There's nothing left of the man that championed Selûne. Isobel: Find her. Free her. If Ketheric isn't stopped, all of us are doomed.

Player: |[Doesn'tKnowName] Aylin? Care to explain?| Isobel: The angel in my story about Ketheric. That was Aylin.

Speaking of Balthazar. Some lines from him:

[Introductory note: please imagine everything Balthazar says spoken with a wheezy voice, as if he's permanently out of breath.]

[I need to retrieve the Nightsong, but the temple is haunted and my minions cannot make it past the trial grounds. I cannot go there until the ghosts have been dealt with. Now that you are here on behalf of Ketheric, you will do all this for me.]

I, Fodder, am here on behalf of General Ketheric Thorm. Down in the depths of this temple writhes his desire. I am to bring it to him.

I created the Nightsong for General Ketheric, many moons... HEAR THAT SHAR? Many moons ago.

*As you hold the necromancer's mocking gaze, you can tell how it starts to dawn on him you are not the mere minion he thought you were.*

Along the way I found some more recent Patch 8 (2022-ish) gross Balthazar lines, some bits of which have actually survived to release:

She was a unique specimen even before I began my work. Aasimar. A god's blood united with mortal flesh.

Such fine clay she was. We grew quite close as I… remoulded her. Now she is General Thorm's shield. Her strength is his to drink upon. His pains are hers to bear.

If I never exceed her, I will still die happy. If I ever do something as gauche as truly dying, that is.

Utterly revolting! Makes my skin crawl! Man deserves a yeeting into the Shadowfell a hundred times over! But in order to not end on a gross note, I leave you with:

Ketheric Thorm. Murderer. Oathbreaker.

Aylin Silverblood. My true name. Nightsong was only ever a curse.

#isobel thorm #dame aylin #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #aylin x isobel #balthazar #datamine #early access #long post #i have more of this stuff actually but this post is already way too long #so stay tuned i guess

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blade-liger-4ever · 9 days ago

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Taking some inspo from @smokescreenimusprime's Dark Infection AU & your Chromia HC (and Arcane being absolute brainworm), imagine if after getting hit with the dark star saber, Smokescreen starts to hallucinate Chromia & his dead guardians with visuals eerily similar to Jinx's to show us how heartbreakingly young he still is. Made worse if up until now, he was seriously compartmentalizing his grief.

The worst ones are when Arcee-or is it Chromia? The blue keeps shifting but the angry disappointed eyes are the same, he never wants to see them again but he can't look away- is scolding him and he's an Elite Guardsman then a street urchin and he's stumbling backward into a wall while bigger bots demand shanix/energon he doesn't have then forward out of the room those bullies once locked him in-

How long these hallucinations last depends entirely on how much angst/torment you wanna put our fav TFP boi through ;)

Just, Smokescreen not having a good time & having to realize Trauma isn't a competition. Because hey, what if deep down, what scares you isn't people leaving but people abandoning you? Leaving implies a return, abandonment means forgetting, ignoring, your existence simply does not/no longer matters.

(Here's a small snippet I wrote inspired by this scene:)

"I-I only wanted to help." Smokescreen sobbed, tears stinging the wounds left by sharp, slender digits digging into his cheeks. "I only wanted to help-!"

"I told you to stay away!" Chromia could pack a punch, he knew she could but he's not sure which hurts more, her fist or the hatred in her optics.

"Chromia-" she's leaving. He's used to seeing her leave but this- this is different, she's not leaving him, she's abandoning him, she's never coming back. "Chromia, PLEASE! COME BACK, PLEASE!"

His sister fades, and even her rust is swallowed by the sea of purple.

Well. Someone woke up and chose violence.

Alone in a Sea of Memory

Racing outside wasn't an option. The second he did that, his signature would be visible and the Decepticons would be on him like rust on a corpse.

Or, worse, the other urchins would jump down from the catwalks and rooftops above to snag his portion of energon that he'd gotten today.

Smokescreen tried very hard not to jog down the hall of the base, the lighting shifting to the dim yellow rays of the Mithrilian sun as the walls around him morphed into high and worn buildings. Gritting his denta, he reminded himself that it was just a memory. Nothing tangible, nothing threatening. If he just walked down the hall, he could -

Among the stalls, shadows darted behind older mechs. Shadows he knew well.

Speeding up, Smokescreen kept his helm high and took various turns in the Mithrilian streets before arriving at the old, weather-beaten bar his guardians called home. The pain in his Spark both abated and increased at the sight of the faded jade color on the building, and tucking his energon close to his chest, Smokescreen punched in the number and entered, swiftly turning around and locking it behind him.

Turning on his heel, he blinked as he found shiny barracks instead of the various tables and counter he expected to see, not to mention the femme who usually cleaned and served at the bar.

Smokescreen squeezed his optics shut, the sudden blackness having a tinge of violet surrounding it.

No. This isn't real, he thought, steeling himself and willing his pulse to return to a normal pace. You're imagining things, Smokey. Get a grip, or you'll fall behind.

Those last words weren't his own invention. Rather, they had been Chromia's; her way of encouraging and focusing him in the Sea.

When was the last time he'd seen her?

Smokescreen's optics snapped open, and immediately he was flooded with various remembrances. The tussle they were involved in after a run to get prescribed supplements for Roller, the time Chromia had come running to find he'd dealt with most of the other urchins, the day she left for Special Operations, the last video call he'd made to her before the attack on the Hall of Records.

What had happened to her? Was she still alive? If so, did she think he was dead? Would she be proud of him for coming so far? For joining Optimus Prime?

"We need a team player, not another child."

That sentence - it'd been spoken by...Arcee. He knew it was Arcee who had said that, just as she'd said many other uncomfortably disparaging things.

....So why did she suddenly sound like Chromia?

Smokescreen blinked, and all of a sudden Chromia materialized before him. She was always a few meters taller than him, but now she seemed to take up the whole room. Her blue optics (They were both hers and not hers, belonging to Arcee as much as to Chromia) bored into him, and as his sister's form flickered before him, her ocean blue plating took on hints of rust all over her frame.

"What's wrong with you? Didn't I teach you anything back in the Sea?" Chromia snapped, glaring down at him.

Legs suddenly feeling weak, Smokescreen pressed himself against the door for support. Summoning all the courage he had, he forced out of his mouth, "You're not real. You're not here. You left with Ironhide, and he'll be rusted over before he lets any of the 'Bots under him die."

That was the comfort he'd given himself first on his day of escape, and then virtually every single day on Earth. It was a desperate hope, but deep down Smokescreen knew it was true (he PRAYED it was true).

His sister scoffed. "And what makes you think running around will impress these guys?" she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest. "Prime's dealt with Megatron himself, how could you possibly hope to prove yourself to him?"

"Optimus doesn't need anyone to impress him," he replied automatically, and he inwardly cursed for engaging with the phantom.

"That fembot is right: you don't take anything seriously," Chromia growled.

It was like all the fight had been drained out of him by that single sentence. Sliding onto the floor, Smokescreen muttered, "No. No, you don't mean that - you know that's not what I'm like."

"You didn't consider Roller's condition that much when you made a run for shanix that day," Chromia continued relentlessly. "You didn't even stop to think that Aileron would have been a victim of that sawed off punk Skywarp seriously either."

The burning bar, the desperate searching for his guardians, the only family he'd had after Chromia left to provide for him - it all came rushing through his helm. Smokescreen trembled, and could only weakly shake his helm in the negative.

"I spent my whole life fighting to give you a chance, and this is how you repay it?" his sister asked disgustedly. Words caught in Smokescreen's voice box, and he couldn't figure out how to refute her accusation. Abruptly she shook her own helm, then turned away.

"I'm done wasting time on you," Chromia hissed, walking away.

Smokescreen stared after her, watching as indigo outlines of Roller and Aileron appeared and disappeared before his optics.

"No," he whispered. "Chromia, please - don't leave me. Chromia, please, come back. You're my sister - Chromia! I need you - I love you - don't leave me, please."

The mad escape from the Decepticon prison ship, the arrival on Earth, all the times he'd disappointed Team Prime after helping them as best he could - it all seemed pointless as his sister, his best friend and hero, walked out of his life.

Pulling his knees up to his chest, Smokescreen buried his face in them and began to cry, murmuring, "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorree. Sister, please, forgive me. Do not walk eway, Chromia. Come home, please."

He hardly noticed his accent, so well hidden from others, slip out along with the tears.

Smokescreen didn't know how long he'd stayed that way until a gentle rap sounded on the door. Sniffing, he looked up just as he heard on the other side, "Smokescreen? Are you alright?"

It was Optimus. He'd - he'd come to check on him.

Clearing his voice, he answered, "Yes, sir."

A heavy silence lingered, and Smokescreen realized it wasn't just because of the obvious lie, but because his accent was still there. Just as he cleared his voice box again, Optimus questioned worriedly, "May I come in?"

Pushing himself to his pedes, scrubbing the lubricant from his face, Smokescreen took a deep breath and unlocked the door. Stepping back, he watched as Optimus entered, optics locked on him.

"Smokescreen...." he trailed off for a moment, scanning him. After a beat, he asked, "What is troubling you?"

It was an effort to not break down and blurt out how he'd just had his sister abandon him, especially since he now knew it was nothing but a hallucination. Instead, Smokescreen swallowed, considered for a few seconds, then answered, "I - I don't know, but...I keep seeing things, ever since the energy blast from the Dark Star Saber hit me -"

Before he knew it, Optimus had stepped over and wrapped him in a hug. There was the barest hesitation before Smokescreen threw his arms around the Prime and buried his face in his chest, willing himself not to cry all over again. As one hand patted his shoulder, Optimus said softly, "Please, tell me everything. From the beginning."

Chromia had never lied to him. He knew that, knew it deep in his Spark, no matter what the images he saw claimed. He knew, based off what she'd told him and how hard it was for her to respect anyone who wasn't him or their deceased friends, that he could trust Optimus.

That Optimus was real.

And he told Optimus the whole story.

#Trying to keep this quasi canon compliant just in case #Both for TFP itself and my headcanons #Also wow I didn't think I'd get it done so fast #Thank you!#Blade's answers #transformers #transformers prime #tf prime #tfp #tfp smokescreen #tfp optimus prime #tfp chromia #tf chromia #tfp ironhide #tf ironhide #tfp arcee #tf roller #tf aileron

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namig42 · 11 months ago

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Was chatting with my lovely mutual @mortalasystem about my Wyllstarion fic Just One Yesterday and some of the inspo that got me started on it, and I thought why not share those things with people who might be looking for good recs? With that, here are some of the biggest inspirations for my super involved story!

Friday Nights by @sadinasaphrite

So the first and probably most prominent inspiration for a modern au is this wonderful Bloodweave fic called Friday Nights over on ao3. I really loved the chemistry between Gale and Astarion in this one, and Gale's perspective was very interesting, especially with the mix of magic still in this au. Wonderfully written, very considerate of Astarion's circumstances as a sex worker, and a happy ending to wrap it all up nicely!

Read it on Ao3

Sex worker/Charity worker Halstarion AU by @malacandrax

This comic has nine parts as of now that are all little snippets of Halsin being a concerned social worker and Astarion as a sex worker in a 70s/80s UK setting. OP really took a lot of consideration writing this one and portraying realistic steps that someone in Astarion's situation could take, and I love how they really captured both characters so well. The progression between the Astarion and Halsin is really nicely done, even in such small snippets. 11/10, definitely recommend.

Link to Part 1 here

Perfect Slaughter by @imagineitdearies

This is a Tavstarion fic that honestly captivated me so much from beginning to end. It's a long form fic that is incredibly compelling and is an alternate au prequel to the events of BG3. Tyrus, the protagonist, is a very compelling original character, and his relationship with Astarion in the hell that is Cazador's palace was so well crafted. This was the story that had me wanting to explore more relationships with Astarion in my own writing, focus on dark topics and give them the respect they deserve such as trauma, abuse, and torture, and try my own hand at writing something long form. It's gotten a great deal of praise, all of which is well deserved, and I cannot recommend it enough.

Read it on Ao3

The funny thing about my Wyllstarion thing was that there was actually very little Wyllstarion inspiration. I saw some good art here and there on tumblr, but not very much at the time. My dash was mostly bloodweave if anything. Still, there was just enough of an inkling in my head of Wyll and Astarion, and then a dumbass idea came to me one day.

I wrote it in the first chapter's notes on Ao3, but the thing that kicked this multi chapter obsession into gear was...

Just One Yesterday by Fall Out Boy

A song off a ten year old album. That's what did it. Specifically the lyrics:

Anything you say can and will be held against you,

So only say my name. It will be held against you.

Those two lines had my brain swimming with a one-shot smut fic of a police officer Wyll and a sex worker Astarion, but a one shot wasn't enough for the romantic that is Wyll. I couldn't write him having a first meeting kind of fling. I wrote out the original one shot idea, let it sit for a couple months, and then suddenly, something clicked in my brain and the whole thing took off from there.

Still, without this lyric, the story wouldn't exist at all. Honestly, going back and listening to the whole song after everything I've written so far, I think it's a fitting title and song in its own way. Highly recommend giving it a listen if you aren't familiar!

---

That's all the big ones. If other things come to mind that I missed, I'll reblog this and add onto it. In the meantime, I highly recommend checking these things out and showing the artists some love! Thanks for taking the time to read, and I hope you found something new to enjoy!

#bg3 #astarion #wyll #inspiration #gale of waterdeep #bloodpact #bloodweave #halsin #halstarion #writing #fanfic #mine #recommend #long post

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deadprocess · 4 years ago

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Hide Away Part 2 (The Trickster x Male!Reader)

//Hi there! A lot of you requested more Male!Reader and I had some Inspo. Enjoy!

T.W: NSFW, Violence towards Reader, mention of alcohol//

Your mouth hung open, fists gripping soft lilac locks as the popstar bobbed his head. Ji-Woon's eyes were closed, cheeks flushed and hallowed with every upward movement, gagging softly when you pushed your hips forward to force more of yourself into his mouth. God, he was beautiful sucking your cock on his knees in some elaborate black harness getup, makeup smudged and hidden away behind a clothing rack back stage.

It started six months ago when he first shoved you into the wall, kissing you with such vigor and desperation that you were instantly hooked. You understood the secretiveness. The hiding in the shadows, a quick rendezvous in your dressing room, the private meetings in a tinted limousine with the driver being bought into silence. You were very much so his dirty secret and you really did feel some ounce of sadness deep down, but it never managed to surface. You couldn't find it in you to care too much when he fucked himself on your dick or had your legs high on his shoulders.

It was the thrill, the passion and the pleasure. The whirlwind that is Ji-Woon and his lifestyle.

"Do you love me?" The question knocked the wind out of you as your thrusts came to a stuttering halt, balls deep with the Korean man nearly bent in half under you. Your face stayed buried in his neck as you caught your breath, trying to decipher if what you heard was correct.

"What?" The popstar pried your face away from his neck, forcing you to look into his eyes. Today's colored contacts were an icy blue.

"I said do you love me?"

Your face must have been a mess of emotions as you thought about the question. Panic, shock, confusion...you hadn't really thought about the relationship between you two. Neither of you had even brought up the subject of dating, but you did have feelings for the other man. With a few months of constant touching and flirtatious behavior, who wouldn't? You two spoke nearly everyday either in person or on the phone except for the few times he would inexplicably disappear just to come back, apologizing for the lack of response before cheerily announcing he has a new song in the works.

"I...yes. I love you." you said dumbly, unable to place the emotions inside your heart which quickly began hammering in your chest as a grin broke out on the popstars face.

"Of course you do, how could you not!" his cocky laugh rang out and you shoved him hard into the mattress and scolding him for springing that on you, his laughing turning into a high pitch moan when you rolled your hips. You set a brutal pace, burying your face in his neck once again to hide the disappointment and shame evident in your expressions. He didn't say it back.

He wanted it rough most days. His requests went from mild to hardcore within the following month. He wanted to scratch your back hard enough to draw blood, hear your screams, be choked till he passed out, chain you up and whip you...It was manageable for awhile before the the final straw came.

"No," your eyes narrowed and focused on the blade in his hand, "you're not coming near me with that."

"Come on, I promise you won't even feel it! You'll be too busy feeling me bounce on your dick to notice!" you closed shut your eyes, releasing a shaky breath. You could imagine that feeling.

"I said no."

When you opened your eyes again you were face to face with the other man, clear anger splayed across his face as his pink contacts seemed to glow brighter with said displeasure. You'd seen him mad before, of course. The long hours in the studio, the plummeting sales, the meddling executives weighing in on his creative freedom...but you had never seen that anger directed at you before.

"You can't say no to me, you stupid boy," his hand fisted the front of your shirt into a ball, the knife glinting in your peripheral vision, and for once a genuine feeling of fear struck you, "you love me, remember?"

Ji-Woon was dangerous.

"Of course, sweetheart," you kept your tone level, loving and gentle, bringing your hand to cup his face. You brought the k-pop star close, beginning to rock side to side, "I do love you. How could I ever say no to you?"

A sweet kiss was enough to temporarily disarm Ji-Woon and the minute his grip loosened around the knife, you ducked out.

You sprinted out of the unlocked front door, scrambling to make it down the stairway, the sounds of furious screaming and clattering behind you as the other man gave chase. You barely managed to disappear within the crowds once you stepped out of the building. Your saving grace was the flood of paparazzi that swarmed your pursuer, blocking his path.

You would see a disheveled Ji-Woon on the front page of Seoul's popular tabloid within the next few days, questioning headlines about why the popstar was half undressed in the front of his apartment building and cursing at the top of his lungs. Most popular speculation was drugs.

You would claim it was an unofficial breakup after that day. You resigned from your position as a dancer for The Trickster, sold your apartment and moved to the states. You never told your folks or friends what happened, not that they would have believed you anyways. You left it all behind and never spoke to the hurricane of a man again.

Well...you at least never answered back. Ji-Woon messaged you at least twice a day. From simple "hey, how are you doing?" to short snippets of his cock deep in some girl's pussy.

Other messages were aggressive. Telling you that he could easily find where you ran off to and it would be nothing to drag you back to Korea by the hair. But the ones that truly dug into your skin were the audio messages. Most were of similar nature: conversational, lewd, abusive...then there came the desperation. He would audibly sob into the phone, pleading with you to come back or at least answer him once. Listening to his wailing almost broke your resolve.

You deleted the past chats and every new one that arrived from then on. The only message that made you pause before erasing was a virtual invite to his performance for the Mightee One committee; a VIP spot and a first class round-trip plane ticket scheduled for next month.

You obviously didn't go and when the news broke that a mass murder had taken place at said concert, you could only feel a pit sickness forming deep inside you.

It was reportedly a slaughter, all victims in attendance were confirmed dead. However, the bodies Yun-Jin Lee and Ji-Woon Hak were not amongst the confirmed dead. They were nowhere to be found.

You did manage to move past those terrible events within the following year. Hell, it was somewhat easy to now that Ji-Woon wasn't ringing your phone everyday. Part of you had always wondered if he was acting the entire time, only messaging you so he could be sure that you wouldn't forget him. Another part of you thought about his disappearance.

Was he alive? Was he okay?

You swirled your drink, sinking deeper into your couch. The tv played some old show but you couldn't be bothered to pay attention. Your mind replayed some old memories that crushed you with a peculiar emotion you couldn't place. Allowing yourself to drop your head back against the top of the cushions, you tried to relax and move past those painful times.

Flashes of Ji-Woon interrupted your peace. Your body entangled with his, hands delicately tracing patterns in your skin and noses touching from the close proximity. The city's colorful lights peaked through the window blinds, illuminating his figure to you. Yellow contacts piercing in the dark as you held each other, mumbling sweet nothings.

Your eyes closed, bleary with the drunken reminiscing of the past.

You didn't see the fog rolling through your room.

"Did you love me?" you gurgled out.

The Trickster kneeled to your level as you sat crumpled against the rotting wooden palette.

Your body seized slightly as the trauma to your head began to override adrenaline, your eyes trained on him to the best of their abilities but the darkness began to seep through. A hand reached out to tilt your head back up. The killer (your killer) held your stare, admiring the horrific beauty of your broken iris caused by the harsh strike to the side of your temple.

"Of course, you stupid boy." The Trickster chortled, thumb softly tracing circles into your cheek. You were fading fast, but there would be no relief or solace in your fast coming death, "I still do."

You closed your eyes as he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You didn't want to see him. You didn't want to see those yellow eyes.

"If I didn't, you wouldn't be here. I loved you so much that it brought you to hell for me."

The abyss took you and all you could do was accept the momentary peace of transition before you were thrown back into his hands.

There was no more hiding. No more prying eyes nor spotlight. Just him and you, interlocked permanently in this game that even death could not do you part.

#dead by daylight #dbd #dbd the trickster #the trickster #ji woon hak #slasher x reader #reader imagines #male reader #slasher imagines

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thran-duils · 3 years ago

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The Hard Way (Prologue)

Title: The Hard Way (Introduction) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark Mob!Tony Stark x Dark Mob!Steve Rogers. The reader is Tony’s side piece and tries to run away from him. She’s brought back to him and he thinks of a new way to teach her a lesson that she belongs to him. Words: 945 Warnings (for the whole fic): Non-con sex/rape, fingering, light bondage, mentions of past physical violence Author’s Note: Hear me out... I know a handful of people across here and A03 wanted more of the fic and I know that meant P3. But... inspo hit last night. I had a dream and then this happened. Just some little snippet of how the reader fell into Tony’s grasp.

Part One || Masterpost (mobile)

“She’s too much to handle,” your partner said bitterly, taking another long drink.

You had just stormed away from the table that they had found a spot at. Some random people. They said they had met Clint at the bar, but you did not like his demeanor from the get-go. And the rest of his friends were just as iffy – you had not even sat down at the table. Mostly because you and your S/O had gotten into yet another argument.

The man across the table – James, asked, “Bratty?”

Your partner nodded, slamming their glass back down on the table. “I’ve tried to talk to her about what I need too many times to count.” – Clint, their new best friend, rose his brows in expectation for more explanation. And he had earned it – he had offered to foot the bill for the drinks tonight. Your S/O noticed and waved their hand. “She keeps falling back on the old behavior I specifically said I hated. I’m tired of it! I’m about ready to walk out.”

James looked across the room at that and made eye contact with someone. Your S/O did not even notice. When he looked back he said, “So… you sound done tonight. That fight was… it drew attention.”

“I’m glad it did. She was embarrassed and kept trying to get me to be more quiet. But I wanted attention on it! I thought maybe the embarrassment would… would….” they looked frustrated at the grasp at vocabulary before they jettisoned on. “—would just FUCKING realize their embarrassment was small in comparison to the begging I was doing for us to be better, and they would swallow that embarrassment to just tell me they would be better. Instead, they locked up and turned on their heel – fucking expensive heels, mind you, cause I bought them! – and stormed off in a huffy. Classic.”

James straightened up and said, “That really sucks… I hate when bitches act like that. So ungrateful.” Your partner nodded in agreement, drunk and feeding off the validation James was giving. “Would you like to just go hit the slots or tables with us? You said she went back to the room?”

“I don’t care where she went,” your partner slurred, bringing the drink back up to their lips. “I hope they get lost for all I care.”

<><><>

Furious, you stormed out of the club, walking out onto the sidewalk. The road was too busy, and you could not find a spot to wave down a cab without being next to someone else. And the last thing you wanted was to share a cab. Looked like Uber tonight.

Sighing, you leaned against the wall and pulled your phone out.

A voice startled you.

“You think that’s safe?”

You looked up, finding a man, dressed up in an expensive suit. He inhaled another round of smoke before lowering his cigarette, his eyes never leaving you. You averted your eyes, suddenly nervous before looking back. His intense gaze set you on edge.

And then you saw his hand flick up and he was holding bills in between his fingers. His other hand brought a cigarette up to his lips, taking a deep inhale.

“Shit’s not safe. Especially for a pretty little thing like you.”

Jaw setting at his condescending – no matter the flirtatious glean in his eyes – tone, you returned, “Might be safer than standing here. You’re barking up the wrong tree!”

“Oh…” he said, his hand with the bills falling back to his side. He held his gaze for a few more moments before he realized. “Oh, not a cover for if I’m a cop. You really aren’t.”

“No. I’m not.”

He snorted, “You seem tense, sweetheart.”

“Forgive me,” you snapped, looking at your phone again while simultaneously trying to keep your eyes on him and the other figures passing you. You more than half expected your partner to sneak up and start another fight. That seemed to be all they were doing lately, and you were on edge.

The man stepped away from the wall, closing some of the distance. Your attention was on him, your fingers paused above your phone. He winked, “Oh, I will. But only if you accept my invitation to the bar behind me.” Your eyes quickly shifted to that bar before meeting his eyes again. “I feel there’s a story I need to hear.”

“You ‘need’ to hear,” you repeated, with an air of annoyance. He was still trying. Like he thought that you were lying that you were not a sex worker.

His smile was toothy. “My, you’ve got a tone about being asked to do things, don’t you?”

You hated how attractive his smile was.

But with that attractiveness… he was pulling you in. And you found yourself giving in a little. Who wanted to go back to a hotel room alone when someone was offering to buy drinks?

You shrugged and said, “I don’t like people telling me to do things, yeah, you’re right.”

His lips wrapped around the end of his cigarette as he came even closer. The smell of the smoke wrapped around you and outside the swirls of smoke seemed to disappear. All you focused on was his eyes that were piercing you. And he seemed to not be able to look away from you either.

Leaning in, his free hand brushed at your ear, and you stood there, taking in the gentle touch. He had a gleam in his eyes that offset his soft fingers and he purred, captivating you, “Well, good thing I am skilled at taming disobedient brats then, hmm? Now, you want that drink or not?”

~~~

Marvel tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld @holl2712 @agustdowney @biiskuitx @buttercupfangirl @namjoonwatcheshentai @kaylamcd2000 @damntonystarkandhissmile @aditimukul

#tony stark x reader #dark!tony stark #dark tony stark #dark marvel #dark!marvel fic #dark!marvel #my shit

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morelikesin · 4 years ago

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You Know You're Cute, Right?

ANOTHER APEX FIC BECAUSE I CANNOT CONTROL MYSELF SKNDLWKDM,, this time I wrote differently than how I normally do - it consists of quick snippets of a day-in-the-life type thing, featuring Mirage-Octane-Bloodhound-Caustic as a polycule 💕 Huge inspo from this song (as well as included in the fic)✨

youtube

Take this as a late Christmas-early New Years gift ✨ Super fluffy and casual type work, with a heavy dash of romanticism because I'll be damned if I'm not a romantic. Fic under the cut 💕💕

"You call your cat sweetheart? 'Zander-"

"Not a word."

Elliott suppressed a snort. That cheeky little smile he had when he found an opening for playful jabs was always so irritating - the kind of irritating that made the scientist want to kiss it right off of him.

"I think it's cute," Octavio hummed, leaning back into the sofa with his arms crossed behind his head. "That means you're cute. Que lindo."

The way Alexander scoffed an "Octavio" would've been more intimidating had it not been for the big, sleepy cat he cradled in his arms. She stretched her big fluffy paws, made a squeak as she yawned, and buried her head into the man's chest.

Blóð smiled.

"Vhatever helps you sleep at night, elskan."

It was incredibly late. The last time they had checked the clock wasn't that long ago, and apparently it was supposed to be sometime around 4 in the morning. It didn't feel that way at all.

They knew it'd kick their ass in the morning - getting so little sleep.

Well, Octavio might be fine. But Elliott had made it a habit to wake up at 8, Blóð still hadn't made much progress on getting more sleep to begin with, Alexander had his internal clock waking him at 7, and they all had somewhere to be at 9. This entire night was probably a huge mistake. They normally try to get to sleep by 2, but admittedly, they may or may not have a bad practice of keeping each other awake for company's sake.

And now that an entirely new subject was brought up after Alexander had rather adoringly picked up Bear, his senior cat, and called her "sweetheart," the prospect of playfully pestering him about his soft spot was all too enticing to go to sleep just yet.

"You've never even called us sweetheart," Octavio began. "You save it for her?"

There was a brief pause. Alexander had kept petting her back paw with his thumb, as his eyes remained averted until he sighed. "It...is something I've grown accustomed to for her, yes."

Elliott made a pleased hum. "Well isn't that just adorable," he teased before leaning over and petting Bear across her back - fur unbelievably soft.

It started as a joke a while ago - the way they noticed how Bear could make anyone sleepy just by looking at her - her cozy looking fur, her sweet little face, her ability to get comfortable and sleep virtually anywhere - but over time the joke had increased its humour when the idea became seemingly true. Alexander occasionally would mention how he'd sometimes stop working at his desk late at night because Bear was sleeping in his lap, and turn in a few hours early compared to his usual 2 in the morning bed time. This was deemed an exaggeration until the three others experienced it for themselves.

This happened to be one of those magical sleepy-Bear moments, as made evident by how Blóð made a quiet yawn shortly after leaning over to give Bear a loving scritch under her chin.

Octavio staved off a matching yawn. He rubbed at his eyes, began to stand, and nodded to Alexander's bed. "We should probably try and get some sleep."

The sun coming in through the blinds was a rude awakening. Elliott instinctually raised an arm to cover his eyes - making a soft groan in annoyance at the bright rays somehow coming through at a perfect angle to hit him in the face. Turning, he lowered his arm and began to sit up slowly as to not wake up the sleeping Octavio who had his arm wrapped around his waist.

Elliott sighed, and leaned down to give him a kiss on the temple. He lingered for a moment before sitting up again and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

He noticed a weight on his legs, and looked to see a peacefully sleeping Bear curled up in a ball. As he went to pet her head, his eyes glanced up to see Blóð sitting in Alexander's desk chair - hands busy sewing a thick-fur item. From the time spent with the hunter, Elliott had picked up on the types of hides they'd hunt and use - this one appearing to be rabbit fur. What they were making, though, wasn't clear yet.

Elliott's voice came deeper, and a bit more throaty in post-sleep fashion, "Morning."

Blóð briefly looked up, gave a gentle smile, and proceeded to look back down to continue their work. "Góðan morgin. How did you sl'leep?"

"Pretty good, considering." He took in a deep breath, and stretched his arms out in front of him. He rested his hands in his lap as he went to speak again, "When did you wake up?"

"Before Alexander, but not by long."

Elliott frowned slightly. Blóð took notice when they looked back up to gauge his reaction. They made an effort to ease his concerns.

"I'm sure Octavio will get me to take a nap vith him later today," they assured, "don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

Elliott made a small hum indicating reluctant agreement. "...Alright. Just promise me to keep doin' what you're doin' - trying t'get more sleep, I mean."

"I promise, ástin."

If Elliott was a sucker for anything, it'd be terms of endearment - especially when they're used so casually. Having all four of them be big on using said terms made for an eternally happy Witt.

"Beloved, right?"

Blóð hummed, "Yes. Closest tr'ranslation I can equate to it." They briefly stopped their handiwork in the wake of a smile they couldn't seem to get rid of. "I'm touched you remembered."

Elliott smirked and made a quiet laugh, turning his head to find the time on the side table clock - 8:21 AM - before looking back over. "I try my best. Making it a goal to learn as much as I can from you and Octavio."

"We find it very sweet," Blóð assured, letting it be known that Octavio and they had seemingly discussed the language efforts before. "Alexander said as much, that you and he were doing so."

"Think I can speak for him when I say that we love learning it. Speaking of him...?"

"He's downstairs."

Elliott made a quiet "Ah." As much as it pained him to do so, he gently lifted Bear and set her on a free spot of the blanket so he could get up - her being left generally unfazed, besides her slightly annoyed tail wag in being moved from her spot.

With Octavio being so small, Elliott could easily leave the bed without disturbing him too much, albeit moving his arm so it wasn't draped across his body anymore. He stretched, walked over to Blóð, and gestured for a kiss. They hummed, seemingly still in their work, but Elliott knew they were keen - the hunter picking up the hint and looking up so their lips could gently meet.

"Que lindo, mis amores."

The two of them made a small hum in surprise before pulling away from one another with a blush. Blóð was smiling to themself shyly, while Elliott made a small chortle and flirted with the newly-awakened Octavio, wearing his darling little smirk.

"Welcome to join us."

Octavio laughed - the sound half-purr, half-grain. "I'd love to. Watching is only so much fun."

He started to rise, stretching his arms upwards and making a groan before reaching over the bed to grab his prosthetics and put them on. Standing, shaking his legs to help himself wake up, he made a small yawn before walking around the bed and giving a kiss to each partner - looking satisfied with himself.

"Big guy downstairs?"

Blóð nodded.

Elliott and Octavio made a mutual decision to go see him - the latter turning around before they headed out the bedroom door to question Blóð. "You comin' down?"

They shook their head, hands busy sewing the fur item again. "I will soon. I von't be long in finishing this."

Octavio nodded, and proceeded to take Elliott's hand as they went downstairs.

Dr. Somers and Alexander seemed to be having a chat when the two made it to the kitchen, their hands busy with mugs of black coffee all the while. Elliott could never understand how people drank their coffee so bitter, much less Octavio.

Dr. Somers was the first to notice the two, as she was facing the stairs leaning against the counter. Giving a small wave and giving a nod to Alexander, she drank from her mug and gave them a minute to exchange expected affections - something she learned the polycule are incredibly prone to do, despite several joking complaints about PDA from the others.

Octavio quipped with a laugh between his words as Elliott and Alexander exchanged a coffee-flavored kiss, "Not even creamer, 'Zander?"

The man bore an amused hum. "Black coffee actually tastes like coffee. You may as well drink candy if you add so much sugar to it."

"You sound old."

"No avoiding that, I'm afraid." He gestured for a kiss, to which Octavio happily gave, before drinking from his mug again. "How did you sleep?"

"Great!"

Elliott gave a "Ditto" in response, though he followed it up with a fitting yawn and a "Wish I slept some more, though."

The statement was seconded by the way Alexander made a soft hum in agreement, and thirded by Octavio and his rightly timed yawn.

Dr. Somers waited a few quiet moments before stepping forward and piping into the conversation. "It'll just be a few stores we stop by, darlin's. Doubt we'll be out that long."

"That's still gonna' be so long," Octavio complained, his voice coming as a whine.

It was common knowledge that Octavio wasn't exactly big on shopping. Elliott, however, could spend all day doing it. If they had to disagree on anything, it'd be how long they were out for things - Alexander and Blóð keeping things relatively frustration-free during a shopping trip, though Blóð would always get antsy to go home if they stayed out longer than a few hours out in a city.

"It'll be fine, babe," Elliott assured the man while rubbing his back. "It's kinda'- kinda' just mainly food shopping, isn't it? You like doing that."

"Aren't we going to the pet store after, though?"

Elliott rose a brow, "'Tavio, are you complaining about that?"

Octavio snorted and began walking to the fridge - grabbing a Bang from inside and popping the can open. "No, para nada - prefer that to everything else, even food."

Mary laughed at that, shaking her head before taking a gulp of coffee and making her way to the living room. Before she left, though, she spoke with her back still facing them, "Oh, remind me t'grab a level while we're out - puttin' up a shelf an' think I lost the one I had."

"Lucky for you, I'm the best at reminding people of things," Elliott half-joked. Mary laughed again and took her leave with a "Thanks."

Being left alone in the kitchen, the three stood in comfortable silence for a few moments. Alexander prompted a question shortly thereafter;

"Is Blóð still upstairs?"

"Yeah," Octavio began, "Think they were working on something - dijo no tardará mucho. I can go see them if-"

The stairs creaked a bit as someone walked down the stairs, causing Octavio to cut himself off as he turned to see who it was. In seeing so, he sighed damn near dreamily and softened his gaze a bit - Elliott and Alexander softening all the same.

Pulling their past-the-waist long black hair behind their jewelry-adorned ear, they rounded the last stair and looked up to see their partners - smiling warmly and lowering their hands to fold their arms. The coyote jaw necklace (that Octavio had gifted them this past holiday, knowing they loved real animal items), that rest against their lower chest rose slightly with every breath, as quaint a detail it was to notice. Not a day goes by do any of them not love seeing their pretty face.

And Elliott made sure to tell them that.

"Not a day goes by do we not love seeing your pretty face."

Blóð bore a chuckle and rolled their eyes, though it didn't mask the rosy blush the comment gave them. "I should say the same for you, ástin."

They unfolded their arms and looked back to the three. They couldn't suppress the amused hum they made in seeing that the three were still checking them out - becoming more flushed and brushing their hair behind their ear again, looking away with a shy smile.

They always looked at each other with such warmth. They got playful tease about it from the others, especially Alexander given he was quite brooding to most things, but the gazes never subsided. They'd like to say they were subtle about it - but everyone else would vote against it. And it'd be true.

They were obvious about it. So sticky-sweet obvious - embraces and hand holding and gazes and kisses and all. They didn't mind.

By 10 till 9, mostly everyone was ready - save for Loba, Renee, and Elliott, who always took a while to clean up to their own high standards. Elliott called from upstairs whether he should wear his orange body mist or his cologne, and with the majority vote leaning towards cologne today - well, he must please the people.

With Renee in tow, Elliott had finally come from upstairs. He looked handsome as ever, however, wearing a black turtleneck and an orange, knee length open-front sweater. His hair looked meticulously tended to, tossed to the opposite side of his pierced right ear and framing his face well.

The cologne served him wonders, too, with Blóð and Alexander taking a clear liking to it.

Octavio walked down the stairs with a pep in his step - smoothing back his hair as best he could just so it could partly fall into his face once again. Swinging around the corner, he spotted his partners and proceeded to greet Blóð and Elliott with a firm smack on their behinds. They were startled, sure, but Elliott only looked down to give Octavio a laugh and a smack of his own, while Blóð merely scoffed in jest.

Octavio bit his lip. "Don't you all look good? Eres tan sexy," he gave a wink while unabashedly checking them out. Blóð was always so pretty, even when showing their strength in the games or when they hunted or chopped wood (Octavio could go on for days about that), Elliott was always so charming and confident (even if his suave attempts happened to fail, they were all the more charming), and the rolled-sleeve button up that was unbuttoned just enough to show collarbone and brief chest on Alexander was something Octavio (and the other two, admittedly) would store in the memory bank for personal satisfaction.

"¿Qué hubo?"

"Just talkin' about whatever." Elliott adjusted the cuffs of his orange jacket sleeves, rolling them up his forearm a bit. He took notice of Octavio's outfit. "You gonna' be alright out there? You know I love you in your crop tops, but-"

Octavio made a "Pshhh" and scrunched his nose up a bit in response to that, cutting him off. "I'll be fine, bebé. Can't be that cold outside, can it?"

Alexander seemed to check his phone for confirmation on that. "Sixty degrees."

Elliott did find the temperature better than he had anticipated, but still swiveled his head back to Octavio with brows furrowed in concern.

"You don't even have a jacket."

"I can grab one before we go."

Elliott seemed satisfied by that and left the discussion there.

Loba came downstairs, holding the car keys and jangling them as her other hand brushed her hair past her shoulder. "Any takers on being driver?"

Alexander motioned her to give the keys to him, to which she happily did - she was a great driver, but happened to not be particularly fond of doing so, rather liking going on drives as a passenger.

Octavio quickly claimed shotgun.

Before they left, Blóð gave Octavio the fur item they'd been sewing earlier - the latter finding that it was a soft rabbit fur coat. The delight in his face was all Blóð needed to feel assured that he liked it, and helped him put it on. It was a little big, and just how Octavio liked his sweaters and coats. To all of their agreement, he looked rather stylish in it.

They were out for most of the afternoon, starting with a two hour Costco trip (that Octavio nearly made his partners carry him for), several smaller shops in between just to browse, a liquor store to buy champagne and sauvignon to celebrate New Years tonight (along with sparkling juice for Octavio who nay drank alcohol), and a hardware store mainly for Mary to pick up that level Elliott reminded her of. By 4:30, their last store of the day was the pet store - everyone individually needing one thing or another.

When they got inside, Elliott asked his partners if they could accompany him for a minute - guiding them to the aquarium section and proposing something.

"Pick one of these guys that you like," Elliott gestured to the wall of individually kept male betta fish, of all sorts of colors and sizes. "You remember those 5 gallon tanks I got a while back? Thought I'd use 'em, and thought a' you guys."

Like Blóð was simply an animal person, and how Octavio and Alexander were cat people, Elliott was partial towards fish. The two large tanks he manages in the living room are rather serene, and despite Renee's concerns, the fish kept there seem to love the foot traffic of everyone coming through.

"One collectively, or-?"

Elliott shook his head, politely cutting Alexander off, "Three total. Was thinking you all pick one, and I set their tanks up in my room. I-I thought it was a cute idea, I dunno'-"

"It's sweet, actually," Alexander softly spoke.

"Think so?"

Blóð made a content hum - leaning down a bit and surveying the curious little fish to see which one stood out to them. "Incr'redibly, my love."

Octavio's approval was nonverbal, made of him apparently finding which one he wanted immediately and picking up the container the little guy was kept in. He looked to Elliott with stars in his eyes and a grin, "Can we name them?"

Elliott chortled and waved his hand dismissively, "I enco- en- enco- implore you to."

"Octavio Dos."

His answer was so quick the others couldn't help but bear a laugh.

And by the time everyone was at checkout, there was definite fawning over the three new additions to Elliott's personal tanks - Ljón, the cream-colored, fiesty little thing that had fins flowing long behind him that Blóð adored, Violet, the red, pink, and white dumbo betta that was adorably curious much to Alexander's affection, and the deep-red colored Octavio Dos.

On the way home, it was decided to just grab something to eat on the way - near everyone could cook, but the idea of standing around in the kitchen to cook for fifteen people was lost.

Natalie passed the aux cord to Octavio, who was just taking his coat off for the ride home. He looked a little beyond himself.

"You trust me with the music? Wow - what'd they put in these fries?"

Natalie held off on a laugh while she tried to finish chewing, though her smile was tell enough on her amusement. "I actually like your music taste."

Makoa requested simply, "Nothing too dirty though, please, Silva."

"Me? Liking dirty music?" Octavio snorted, "You know me so well. How about flirty music?"

The man chortled. "That works, brotha'."

Octavio hooked the cord to his phone, and swiped his screen for a few moments before stopping on something. He looked hesitant, briefly, and pressed his screen. He set his phone down and put his hand on Alexander's, their arms both resting on the armrest.

The song sounded so dreamy. When the intro became a little more recognizable, before the lyrics, Loba made a snort from the back.

"You like this song?"

Octavio feigned offense, looking back to her with a "Of course I like this song!"

He shook his head and laughed softly - looking over to Blóð, who sat behind Alexander, he sang over the song and moved his hand from Alexander to cup their face.

"You're so uwu," his voice came sweet and a bit grainy, moving his hand from their cheek to their chin. Blóð practically giggled - blushing and leaning forward into his touch.

"You make me wanna' do," Octavio took his hand away and gave them a wink, "Naughty things to you - all these things to you, you."

Elliott joined the flirt-singing, joining Octavio in the chorus while they oh-so shamelessly wooed their other two partners (and each other, mind you). The others would've said a joke about it, but Ajay was busy holding Natalie's hand and cuddling up to her, while Anita was busy running her hand through Loba's hair and speaking quietly amongst themselves. The others didn't have the heart to interrupt their moment.

Besides, the song was catchy.

"You know you're cute, right?" Octavio sung in Alexander's direction, who shook his head. Still, he wore a soft smile and kept his hand reached over to rub Octavio's thigh.

Elliott leaned over to the side behind Octavio's seat, Blóð matching the movement from the opposite side, and wrapped an arm around the hunter's waist. He continued the phrase with a cocky smile, "Cute as a button-"

Then the two sang together, "Undoing the buttons and pushing your buttons, I just wanna' get you right-"

It was a red light, and so Alexander took the opportunity to lean over and kiss Octavio - lingering for a moment or two before pulling away and focusing back on the road just in time for the light to turn green.

Octavio's heart was a puddle.

Blóð reached a free hand across the armrest to drape his hand over the one Alexander had over Octavio's leg, their fingers soft and gentle in the way they caressed the back of both their hands. Elliott went to continue singing the song, but Octavio stole a kiss much to his surprise. He hummed, and just before they pulled away, Elliott opened his eyes and let his gaze linger at the man driving.

The glimpse of one another was quick, but just as warm as everything else, and left Elliott with a bigger smile than previously.

Octavio pulled up his leg that wasn't currently the resting place of Alexander's and Blóð's, resting his arm on his knee.

He was so lucky.

And finally by 6, everyone was tuckered out - ready to take some personal time alone before reconvening later tonight for celebrations. Putting groceries away, Elliott setting up the bettas (as well as having a bit of an audience while doing so), and having a pre-celebratory drink from the sauvignon left the group in need of a quick sit-down. They found themselves just comfortable in the living room, along with Bear and Octavio's cat, Octave, sleeping on one of the couches. Rightly, this was the couch the four of them decided to occupy.

Renee crossed her legs, her black-painted nails running over the leather of her knee-high boots. "Any plans before tonight?"

"Oh?" Tae Joon began, "I thought we were just going to be alone before- ah, ten tonight?"

"I'm just wondering if that was the time we could agree on."

Octavio gave a nod. "Should work for me, at least. I plan on getting blasted, hah."

There was a heavy silence - his other partners looking rather surprised and, especially Blóð, flushed upon hearing that.

Elliott cleared his throat. "Come again?"

Anita snorted at his wording. Elliott gave a quick "Not- not what I meant, uh-"

Renee shrugged, wearing a look painfully smug. "I mean...a bit too much information, but I'm sure that'll go well."

Alexander cleared his throat.

Octavio, despite his nature to immediately take things dirty, just now got what the issue was. And did he find it hilarious.

Through a series of snorts and laughs, he reiterated what he meant; "If I meant I was gonna' get pounded, I would just say that-"

Blóð, Elliott, and Alexander made a simultaneous "Octavio-!"

He kept laughing, shaking his head, "I meant- like, I'm gonna' smoke a joint. Ay, Dios mío - but hey, if that other option is on the table-"

There was another simultaneous "Octavio!" and it seemed to get him to stop talking and simply laugh. He and the others found this absolutely hilarious, leaving his partners to be lost for words and red in the face.

Octavio snorted, and dared to entertain a final joke.

"Like a refreshment."

"What?" Loba narrowed her eyes, leaning forward in interest in what he could possibly say right now.

"Y'know," Octavio snickered, "Quickie's like a refreshment. And there's four of us - heh, call that a concession stand."

Loba couldn't hold the shocked, boisterous laugh she made hearing that - no one really could.

There was a silence after the laughter died down. It was broken when Ajay snorted, though.

"Stop encouraging him-!" Elliott near scrambled to say, but was cut short when Ajay gave him a laugh and a 'look.'

"I know the one flirting wit' 'im all day isn't telling me t' not encourage him. Don't act like you don't like this."

Elliott quickly bit his tongue and raised his hands in the air.

"Touché."

Another small bout of quiet settled.

Loba snorted.

Octavio looked at her, and when their eyes met, they both snorted, and had to turn away to not outright laugh.

Given the situation, a little fun was wanted out of it. Of course, trivia about one another was a frequent, and a favourite, activity amongst themselves. If they all had any one exact thing in common, it'd be that they were all unabashedly nosy.

Loba uncrossed, then recrossed, her legs as she sat up a little. "Truth or dare without the dare, anyone?"

"I think that's a thing called 'having a conversation,'" Anita jokingly mocked.

"Then let's have one." Loba hummed, "I actually had a question for you," she pointed a nude-shade manicured finger towards Dr. Nox, who looked suddenly surprised.

"What is it?"

The woman leaned forward a bit, cusping her hand around her face as if she was telling a secret - the hand facing no one, ultimately defeating the purpose - and talking somewhat low but audible for everyone to still hear.

"Be honest. Is that sweetheart thing true, or was Octavio being dramatic?"

"Oh my god."

His exasperated expression made his partners in particular so delightfully entertained - Octavio especially, laughing and giving a shrug as he left the man to answer the question for himself. He must've mentioned it to them when they were at a store earlier today.

"The people are waiting," Ajay chimed in. It earned the approval of Loba, as told by the way she looked smug about someone else prodding it.

Alexander lifted his glasses, pinched the bridge of his nose in thought, and when he couldn't stave the answer off any longer he was brought to the doorstep of needing to say something.

With hesitation, he sighed. "True enough that she responds to it as well as her actual name."

As if on cue, right after he finished speaking and everyone was ready to pull the expected "big guy soft for a cat" card, Bear shifted her position from simply lying beside him to lying on her side and pressing her face against his upper leg. Despite it all, the instinct to lower a hand and pet her big sweet face was lost not in the man.

The onslaught of "Aww!"s would've been anticipated.

#apex legends #apex caustic #apex bloodhound #apex mirage #apex octane #my work #my art #don't steal #original #morelikesin #traditional art

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impossible-rat-babies · 6 years ago

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writer interview meme

I got tagged by @apostatetabris! Thank you Vi, you're a sweetheart!

I’m going to tag: @ariela-of-aedyr, @ocean-in-my-rebel-soul, @allisondraste, @watcherofsouls, and anyone else who writes! You don’t have to do this unless you want to as always! :D

Q: What is your coffee order?

Depends on the coffee place, but I usually go with a drip coffee with cream and sugar. Sometimes a flavor at other places too. I like the strawberry açaí refresher at starbucks

Q: What is the coolest thing you’ve ever done?

Being a writer? hmmm, it’s kinda boring, but sharing my writing and being proud of it is a big thing for me? I’m not used to sharing and putting my work out there, so taking the leap and putting things into the interwebs.

Q: Who has been your biggest mentor?

I would rather say I have writers I look up to than mentors. A lot of y’all are on here are writers I look up to and consider to be great folks. Y’alls writing is great :D

Q: What has been your most memorable writing project?

Hopefully any long fic I wanna start writing, but I am very proud of all the little snippets I’ve put out here on tumblr. My numbering system is really off, so I think i have about 60 of them floating around. If you told me I would have that many just out there last october, I would laugh.

Q: What does your writing path look like, from the earliest days until now?

I wrote a lot of silly childish stuff as a kid because that’s what you do. I had a very active imagination as a child and would make stories up quite a bit. I really got more into writing in my freshman and sophomore year of high school where I would write a lot of “edgy” emotional poetry, but in retrospect that shaped a lot of my strong liking towards sensory description. I also found fandom in high school and picked up a lot on writing that on a regular basis. Once I got off of those fandoms, I stopped really writing until my college years and I got back into video games. I had written fic a lot before, but I felt more mature and felt stronger in my abilities to write in ways I enjoyed more. It also felt like a very natural way to express my feelings and enjoyment of these characters. I always gravitate to making art and writing when I want to make content.

Q: What is your favorite part about writing?

I love writing dialogue a lot. I love learning how character’s talk and what vocal habits they have and translating that to writing. Banter is one of my favorite things to experiment with and hash around with. I often start with fleshing out the conversation in fic and moving on from there.

Q: What does a typical day look like for you?

I wake up and go to classes for the day and usually come home and play some game or do some art. Most of my writing is done in bed late at night or friday evenings for da drunk writing. Sometimes if I really wanna work on something, I’ll do it on long car rides--like with the snippet i just posted--or out in public. I am pretty dang private about what I write about. Always been that way.

Q: What does your writing process look like?

I will write a lot in just the text block here on tumblr, get to where I lose steam and then let it sit for a while before picking it back up. I have drafts from ages ago of old work just sitting and marinating before I find inspiration for it again. It usually waxes and wanes with my own interests. Like the influx of pillars fic is mainly because I did a whole playthrough of the game the past week. I know when I play the Honest Hearts DLC for fallout new vegas, I’m gonna work on some joshua and jericho content. The inspo fluxes with my interests.

Q: What’s the best advice you’ve gotten?

Grammar rules and spelling are good to learn, but you can play kinda fast and loose with certain parts of grammar rules. Sometimes the pacing of things or the word order or the mood you are trying to make can lend to breaking a few rules. Like run on sentences or using and over and over in a sentence. Not saying toss all the rules out, but you aren't an awful person for not knowing every single freaking grammar rule out there.

Q: What’s the biggest lesson you’ve learned?

Branching out on what you are reading and writing. People have different ways of going about constructing their words and sentences, so look at those. It’s not cheating to have a list of overused words or to look at other ways to say “said”. There are resources out there to use and to have fun with. Go for it! :D

Q: What advice would you give someone who wants to start writing?

Keep on writing and doing your thing. The more you write, the better you're going to become. It’s always going to be hard to look back on old work with new eyes. I look at work a couple months old and I think of how I can change it, shift it to make it work better. There’s always going to be room for improvement.

Also, unsolicited critiques are going to happen. Sometimes they are going to hurt and it’s going to be rotten. Take them with a grain of salt. Also it’s totally fine to tell people to bugger off with unsolicited critiques. Sometimes you don't want that in your life and you wanna sit and be happy with what you’ve made. I live a lot by if I want a critique, I will ask you or someone can ask me if I would like a critique. Otherwise, piss off.

#tag meme #owen talks #thanks y'all!

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gyongyiphotoarts · 6 years ago

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‘English as a second language’ at the Somerset house

I have started this post already and I haven’t saved the draft, oh well... sorry for the awful quality of the photos, I have been using my wunderschön Xiaomi phone to document, and it doesn’t perform well in low light!

This exhibition is a joint showcase of Joyce Ng and Hannah Moon’s current work, specially shot in the Somerset house - both prominent artists in today’s fashion photography. I haven’t been really engaged with fashion photography so far, apart from my admiration for Viviane Sassen - but even in her work I do not look at the commissioner or the piece of clothing or accessories they are using, I am more aware of the model, the pose, the colours and the lighting than anything else, so I can say I am not looking at the typical fashion aspect of any fashion image. Nevertheless I did enjoy this exhibition a lot. The gallery space has been divided into 3 spaces, one room for each photographers new work, specially shot in Somerset House, and than the last room showcased their featured work in publications from the last 4 years.

‘Employing an otherworldly and playful approach to their practice, Hanna Moon and Joyce Ng incorporate cultural signifiers, set design and fashion to present their unique take on Western aesthetics and fashion ideals. Bringing distinct Asian perspectives to their work, they challenge the concept of ‘otherness’ and reflect upon the power fashion photography holds in shaping our perceptions of beauty, style and taste.’

https://www.somersethouse.org.uk/whats-on/hanna-moon-joyce-ng-english-as-a-second-language

I have specially liked Joyce Ng’s work. She was casting her model’s from the pool of visitors from the gallery over a month time, most of them having lack of experience in the modeling scene. She was inspired by a 16th century Chinese novel, called Journey to the West ( corresponding to the title of the exhibition ), but I felt like the portraits, specially the tiny ones with captions, encapsulating her journey in / to London - and possibly all of us, people migrated to a Western country, would reflect on their own journey. The photos are quite abstract, surreal, I like the way she plays with the photos, turning them upside down, or deliberately choosing snaps that are not so appealing to the models - pushing the boundaries of what is considered a typical ‘beauty’, fashion portrait.

The photos are either

close up portraits, which were printed in large size, where some details are getting blurry and hazy due to the magnification and the stretch of the print

either as more complex scene, where the model acted as a prop for the set scene - they were presented as tiny prints, where I had to get real close to the photo to be able to see what’s going on in the picture.

The layout of the exhibition was really engaging as well - several walls have been built in the middle of the space - the bigger prints on the right side, mounted on the bright red wooden frames, highlighting their existence as an object, almost pulling out the portraits from the shallow field of the white gallery wall; and the tiny prints were laid on the opposite side, where the wall was literally carved out and painted red, only to place the prints seemingly randomly in corners. The captions were generally about

the model’s name

the place they have shot the image

the exact date of the shoot

the type of print and on what it has been mounted on - all of them were C-type prints mounted on aluminium

on the small prints - the brand of the attires and accessories

I liked these images as precisely they were not the typical fashion photographs one would expect to see on a fashion exhibition - the element of the surreal, the odd poses and unusual crops got my immediate attention and I was genuinely amused by these photographs and by the layout, haven’t been excited by someone’s work for a while.

In the third room the a collective of work from both artist can be found, two vitrines in the middle of the small space, showcasing their magazine and photobook publications; and selected prints plainly pinned on the walls, which was surprising to see, after seeing the careful presentations in the previous 2 rooms. Of course ,the new and old works they don’t necessarily correspond to each other, and I guess the new work’s printing has been funded by the commissioner ( The Somerset House). Anyway, I was able to spot Joyce’s work straight away :D

Language barrier is a big thing for me too - I have difficulty in expressing myself specially when I’m under stress or feeling nervous. I can’t even think straight sometimes, nor I can articulate the mess is in my mind :D

As I usually shoot in landscape orientation, this is a good example / inspo for my future / possible book layout.

Some Yoko and John reference here.

There is a short video montage on both photographers working procedure, as well as snippets from interviews with them, talking about their work. I found the footage odd in a way, as the interview bits must have been recorded via Skype, as the quality of the image and the sound wasn’t crisp enough, as well as they have included home-made video snaps of some random people eating and I still don’t understand what was it about. Anyway, it was nice to see some behind the scene footage too.

Random prints could have been found in really high spots. Lack of space or giving a random face-palm experience for the viewer?

Ipad presentation. Catching up with technology. Wow-factor. Not even surprised.

#wallpagescreen #5imag003w

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