#just in bits and unfinished pieces rn

[psalacanthea]

Fanfic Friday- 5/3

The poll decreed I must pull out something ridiculously self-indulgent I wrote for myself, so here you go!

Astarion x Tav if they'd met before he was a vampire spawn, and she had an oopsie baby after he disappeared.

Post-canon, trying to build a home in a ruined Drow city in the Underdark while dealing with two separate families- mortal and vampire.

This is NOT kidfic (all children involved are full adults, lol), but rather them reconnecting after she was bullied by their daughter to help kill Cazador so her father could finally be free.

10kish words, SFW. (lmk if u think i should put this on AO3)

Much like the rest of their unnamed city, deep in the bowels of the Underdark, Astarion’s study slash meeting hall was half-ruined, empty, and lacking in livable touches.

He hated it.

Still, they were ostensibly safe, and at least for the moment he had some company to complain at.

“And then– you’ll never believe this– Octavia said that it was Rydell who had insulted the Drow ambassador, and worse still, Dalyria defended her.  Everyone knows it was Octavia.  She’s not subtle!  It’ll be a wonder if they ever speak to us again.”

“The amount of drama a bunch of vampire spawn can get up to is rather impressive,”  Lilithera said, voice just a tiny bit distracted.  It usually was.  She spent far too much time working, something he’d have to talk to Zynatheri about.  “Did it cause problems with the negotiations?”

“No,” Astarion sighed, grateful that wasn’t a problem, at least.  “Luckily the myconids standing guard kept things civil.  It was a spot of brilliance suggesting a bit of– what did you call it?”

“Mmmmmmh, symbiosis?”

“Yes, that.  Darling, what in the Hells are you doing that has you so distracted?”

“Sorry, father,” she said, chagrined, voice echoing out of the scrying orb awkwardly as she moved away from her half of the enchanted relic she'd installed for him.  “I’ve been buried in that stack of books you had mother bring me– the cyphered necromancer’s journals you unearthed in the grand crypt?  I don’t know if there’s going to be anything helpful in them, but they’re still fascinating to translate.”

Anything but that.  Ugh.  It was his fault for feeding the wizard’s curiosity, he supposed.  “Your mother would kill me if you turned to necromancy, love.  Especially Drow necromancy.  You need to get out more. Get some sun.”

Lilithera laughed, an edge of sarcasm sharpening it.  “The irony of being told that by my undead father is not lost on me.  I’m trying to help you get out more.  I was invited to a Liar’s Night party, though.  I haven’t been to Waterdeep in an age, I was considering it.  Mother said she’d look after the twins.”

Waterdeep?

Oh no.  “Who invited you, exactly?”

“Archmage Dek–”

“Absolutely not!  Gale?!  Stay the Hells away from that man!”

Zynatheri was going to murder him.  Quite honestly he would let her, rather than being subjected to the idea of being Gale’s father in law.  Oh gods, just thinking those words made him want to vomit.  No, no, absolutely not.

Whatever was going on between Lily and Gale, as her parents they had a duty to utterly sabotage it.

“Father, he’s a colleague!  You and mum are utterly unreasonable.  I’m a hundred and ninety three years old, a widow, and a mother of four, need I remind you.”

“Mmh,” he muttered with an annoyed purse of his lips, trying to think up an actual, valid argument.  She was always so reasonable and logical, it could be frustrating at times.  She certainly hadn’t gotten that from him or Zynatheri. 

“What is your problem with Gale, anyways?”

“He’s my friend, darling, it feels…wrong.  Plus his romantic history is absolutely horrifying, let me tell you.  Who would want that for their daughter?”

Who would want the possibility of having Dekarios grandchildren?

Disgusting.

“I don’t think the man that got my mother pregnant and then disappeared has any right to judge me.  Speaking of, is mum there yet?  She should be arriving soon, shouldn’t she?”

“Who knows with that woman.  She’s worse than a stray cat,”  Astarion dismissed, despite wondering as much himself.  He was still feeling irritated over their argument last time she’d come by, and the fact that she’d gone and disappeared after it– he didn’t particularly mind disagreeing with her, but she always ran away afterward.  It was getting frustrating.  “How the Hells do you keep her from running off?”

“Oh, I stopped trying years ago.  Are you saying…you don’t want her running off?”  there was a sly, cunning little note to Lilithera’s voice.  That she had gotten from him.  Devious brat.

“I’m saying she showed up in my life, saved said life, dropped an entire family in my lap, and then went prancing off into the sunset.  Now she only reappears to do incredibly helpful things, and then briefly infuriate me before disappearing!  It’s very confusing.”

“Imagine having her for a mother.  Have you tried thinking up a reason for her to stay?  A task you might need her help with?  She might be fickle but she always keeps her word, you know.  Or are you too busy pouting and refusing to actually be the one to blink first?”

He rose from his seat, tossing aside the endless piles of reports.  The warming bottle Gale had enchanted for him was only half-full, but that was the state of things right now.  Food was in very short supply, especially with how the idiots kept losing their self-control and stealing from the rothe herd.  And actual thinking food?  

Nothing more than a daydream.

Still, at least he was eating in a more…civilized manner these days.

Pouring blood from bottle into glass, he raised his voice.  “No matter what I say, you’re going to twist it around in that pretty little head of yours until you’ve convinced yourself we’re pining after one another.  She’s a maddening, smug, evil little wretch and just because she confuses me doesn’t mean I’m desperate to learn all her secrets.”

“You’d never know if she were pining after you, anyways.”

Astarion glanced back over his shoulder at the scrying orb, raising his eyebrows.  “And what exactly do you mean by that?”

“Father, she knows what you’ve been through.  Mother would never make the first move, she’s far too respectful for that; she doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable.  She told me as much last time I badgered her about you.”

“You really are a meddlesome little pest, aren’t you, darling?”

There was laughter in her voice.  “It’s a family trait.  When I was a child, before she discovered what had happened to you, I hated you.  I was happy you were gone.  Now that I know you and understand…well, you’re probably the only person I know of that could put up with her.  And vice versa.”

“Stop meddling, love.  You’re too pretty to fret over such things, you’ll give yourself wrinkles.”

“You’re only saying that because everyone says I look like you.  I should go, I’m having dinner with Portia.”

“Tell the girl I say hello.”

“You’re going to have to get used to the word ‘grandfather’ sooner or later.”

Astarion grimaced, glancing out the window.  “No thank you.”

“Ilethra’s getting married.  You might be a great-grandfather before you know it.”

He scowled out at the fungus-lit cavern beyond, spite and annoyance simmering.  How dare she make him feel old like that?  “You’re no longer my favorite.  Why did you have to marry a human?  At least if your children were elven we’d have more time.”

“If you want another full elven child, I suggest you make one yourself.  Ta, father.  I love you.”

By the time the words sank in past his surprise, the spell had long since been banished, the scrying orb dark.  Still, he glanced over his shoulder, gazing at it as an unfamiliar, but welcome warmth rose within him.  She said it so easily, and so earnestly.  

He had someone who loved him.

Of course he put his best foot forward with her most of the time, but Lilithera wasn’t a child.  She was a fully grown woman, and an intelligent and discerning one at that.  He hadn’t tricked her into saying it.

She really, truly meant it.

He wondered if she still would if she knew everything he’d done.

Still, there was no point dwelling on it.  Not when he was neck-deep in shit without a shovel in sight.  Why he’d thought two centuries of in-fighting and petty conflict could be banished all at once, he didn’t know, but when they weren’t demanding he provide all the answers, his siblings spent all of their time arguing.

They’d lost a good thousand of their people already to death and decampment, which he couldn’t say he felt too badly about.  Less mouths to feed, at least.  But the others were panicking, worried about the ill-will those that left could be garnering.  As much as he hated to agree, they might be right.

Petras was trying to convince him to hire assassins to hunt them down.

As if they had the money for that.

Hells, they’d barely stopped traveling, and half of them were sleeping the days away in holes in the ground.  Hardly a safe situation.  That was why allying with the myconids had been a spot of brilliance.  Still a tenuous alliance, but they were working on it.  The Sovereign trusted Zynatheri at least; which would be more useful if the damnable woman would stay.  Now, if only they could forge an alliance with the nearby Drow, instead of having to fear they’d be turned on at a moment’s notice…

He really needed someone to talk to about all of this that wasn’t a vampire themselves.

Just to clear his mind, if nothing else.

Unfortunately, it took a full fortnight for the cat to come back.

“Poppy!  Lysander!”

Why were all her bloody family members so tall?!

Zyn’s fault, entirely.  If she wanted a child, she should have found another drow, but no– no, she’d gone and had a daughter with a high elf.  And then, even worse, her daughter had gone and had children with an even taller human!  It wasn’t fair, that’s what it was.  She was tempted to polymorph herself just to keep up, but after they’d gotten into a scrabble with cloakers earlier, Zyn was feeling a bit low on spellpower.

The twins, of course, were in fine spirits, galumphing along like colts.

“Come on, little mum!” Poppy called back, standing at the top of a narrow cliffside path.  It needed widening.  Some masonry, supports, and a retaining wall, at least.

She knew Astarion had other priorities, but having a good route to the city would be important.  Sadly, she knew as much about road-building as she knew about city planning.  Nil.

“I need you two to hold back!  We can’t enter the city without an escort, you know this!”

The pair paused at the cusp of the hill, but their backs were to Zyn.  She took the incline herself with ill grace, very, very ready to be off of her feet.  She despised the Underdark.  Zyn couldn’t believe in the past year she’d been down here almost a dozen times.  The things one did for family.

Lilithera kept thinking up reasons she needed Zyn to come down.

The girl couldn’t be more obviously trying to herd her parents into a relationship if they tried.

Zynatheri felt…pleasantly surprised by Astarion.  Over the years she’d had nothing at all to do with him after locating him.  And what Lilithera had told her from her scrying wasn’t enough to make any judgments about what he was going through, not enough to know his attitude about his unlife.  When he’d been kidnapped, Lilithera had immediately begged her to find him and protect him, and she’d done her best.

But her expectations of a man who had been tortured and a vampire for two hundred years were very, very low.

So to find him more like the young man she barely remembered than expected was a shock.  Oh, he was more confident now, much more traumatized, and far more worldly and mature, but there was still something of that ambitious, fussy, self-absorbed spoiled brat she’d liked so much in him.  It wasn’t as if she hadn’t gotten more bitter and nasty over the years, herself.

Life did that even if you weren’t being abused by a vampire.

Zyn finally reached the top of the hill, ignoring the worried look and gracefully extended hand Lysander offered down her.  He was a sweet boy, but spent far too much time worrying.  It made her feel old.

“Darling, I’m barely even three hundred,” she told him, not bothering to hide the exasperation.  “Before long, you’re going to be older than me!”

“That isn’t how it works, little mum,” Poppy said with a roll of her eyes.

The twins couldn’t be more different and yet oddly alike– they both were the most curiously sensitive and caring children she’d ever met, but with a morbid streak a mile wide.  But while Lysander turned it inward, with dreamy eyes and a worrying penchant for poetry, Poppy turned it outward, with a ferocity of purpose and a helping hand that preferred to hold an axe.  And yet, there had never been two siblings as close-knit as they were.

When Lysander had asked to meet their grandfather, it hadn’t even been a question that Poppy would come along.

Besides, she needed more combat experience.

Together they stood on that precipice, attention naturally drawn to the ruin below them.  An ancient drow city, where her mother’s own people had been driven out generations ago in a conflict with the Houses of Menzoberranzan.  It looked…better than she recalled from last time, some signs of repairs beginning.  Clumsy repairs, mind, but between the vampires’ awkward attempts at masonry and the myconids’ aid in the form of natural fungal structures, it was beginning to look livable.

The multicolored mushrooms glowing against the surface of the ancient, slick black, spiky architecture was a surprisingly pleasant contrast.

“This was once called Arzullnioth.  It’s where your great-grandmother’s family lived long before the Spellplague.  The Houses of Arzullnioth attacked Menzoberranzan.  It did not go well,”  Zynatheri commented, starting to lead the way down the slope.  “Llolth chose Menzoberranzan, but your great-grandmother’s House was spared her wrath because they sacrificed every first-born daughter to her in a desperate placation.  They killed and killed until Lolth bid them stop, with only a single heir left– your great-great grandmother Kiivashti.  Thus, they were allowed to flee the city with what remained of House Tzahane.  My mother told me of it when I was a girl.” “That’s vicious,”  Poppy said disapprovingly, short raven curls bouncing as she shook her head.

“It’s very beautifully sad,” Lysander agreed, amber-and-earth eyes gazing over the cityscape with misty wonder, as if viewing its past.  “Did grandfather find their bodies?”

“Well, I don’t know, pet,”  Zynatheri said, too well-used to fatalistic minds to be bothered by it.  “We can look.  Perhaps they’ve found some clues that would point us to where great-grandmother’s family put their dead.”

“Honestly, little mum, I can see why you don’t like your family,” Poppy said with distaste.  “Killing all your own children; how evil.”

They walked together down the uneven slope of stone, the remnants of an ancient roadway more visible now.  The gate and wall that had closed out the great cavern of Arzullnioth were crumbled, damaged, but it seemed there were sentry myconids patiently standing in the gap where the city’s entrance had been.  Proper guards.  It was good to see.

The Sovereign Vorm had been busy at work budding, it seemed.

“Flower, we are walking into a city full of vampires, so try not to be too enthusiastic about calling things evil?”

“There’s a difference.  I’m not a child any more, I understand,”  Poppy huffed, rolling her eyes.  “The person who is evil is the one who turned them all.  And he’s dead.”

“Righteousness has done just as much wrong, if not more, than those they claim are evil,” Lysander agreed, softly sad.

Zyn fought the urge to scoff at youthful philosophy.  It was fine.  It was a luxury they had which meant they’d been raised safely and well, she had to remind herself, which was exactly what she’d sacrificed so much for.  So that they didn’t end up like her.

The idea softened her momentary exasperation, warming it.

“Ah, I did such a good job raising you,” Zyn self-congratulated, ignoring the pair rolling their eyes at each other behind her.

“Mum had something to do with that, little mum.”

“Well, hells, I raised her, too!”

As they approached the gate, it became clear that the city was still very quiet, only the fungal folk wandering the broken streets.  Shit.  She’d meant to arrive well after nightfall, but it seemed they were still a bit early.  While they took a pause just outside at the shrine of Beshaba Zyn had built, they all did their perfunctory offerings, and then she bid them wait.

“We shouldn’t go in until your grandfather sends someone to fetch us,” Zyn said apologetically.  “Stay right here, I’ll go speak to the guards.”

While she dealt with communicating the fact that she needed Astarion to fetch them, Zyn watched the city streets.  She could see a few shadowy figures out now, which meant it was probably just past nightfall.  Yes, better not to parade the children through the streets in front of a bunch of barely-awake, hungry vampires– that was a recipe for disaster.  

After she got her point across and managed to extricate herself– communicating with myconids was simple for her as a bard, but also addictively enjoyable– Zyn returned to the twins to wait.  And wait.  And…wait.

She was starting to get genuinely annoyed by the time Astarion arrived, and had paced back to the gate to wait, crossing her arms over her chest.  Coming down the hill, disheveled and still in the process of fastening his belt, Astarion looked about as annoyed as she felt.  When he noticed her and frowned, she lifted her chin and stared him down.

“You know where I live!” he snapped at her as he approached.

“I do,” she agreed, lifting her hands as he bore down on her.  “Come here.  Your hair is a mess.”

“Yes, well, I was still in my dressing gown,” he fussed, but obediently leaned down so she could fix his hair for him.  “Why didn’t you just come u–”

“Hello, grandfather!”  Poppy called cheerfully, the twins crunching up to join them.

Astarion straightened abruptly, pulling out of her reach.  He tugged down the front of his embroidered jacket, staring at the approaching pair for a moment before turning an accusing gaze on her.  She gave a small shrug.  Astarion sighed, heavily.

“Don’t take it out on them,” she hissed.

“I know,” Astarion snapped back.  Much to her relief, his mask slipped into place.  “You must be Poppy and Lysander.  I apologize, I hadn’t been told you were coming!  Imagine that!”  The last two words snapped with pointed accusation.

“Can we not fight in front of them, either?”

He gave her a dour look, and then sighed and stepped past her to greet the children.  She kept her peace all the way to the half-ruined palace he had claimed, which amusingly she had realized from the designs of the stonework had once belonged to her mother’s family.  Not that she’d mentioned it.  In fact, Zyn didn’t think she’d ever brought up House Tzahane’s history here to him– it hadn’t seemed relevant.

Having grown up on the surface, she had about as much connection to this place as a pig did to a plate of ham.

Whatever they would make of this place would be their own.

At any rate, Poppy chattered the entire way, so that filled the silence quite nicely.  

As she’d been suspecting, their bright, noisy presence drew a lot of attention as they traveled the shattered streets, something Astarion also seemed extremely aware of.  The twins were relaxed, but they were both on high alert.  Naturally Lysander was drawn to mooning about every even slightly interesting feature, but Zyn kept her hand close and gave him a bit of a tug every time he started to wander or pause to peek in ruined courtyards or fallen buildings.  

He was a bit too much like his deceased mother at times– head forever in the clouds.

As they approached the House, she looked it over with a critical eye.  The towers were missing their old statuary and spires, but it looked like he’d managed to get one of the roofs repaired, finally.  The gardens that spread before the building were neat and tidy but mostly empty, nothing but dirt, rocks, and old paths, with just enough fungal and bulbfruit foliage to feed the pair of rothes stabled there, tied to the remnants of an old shattered obsidian statue of the Spider Queen.

“Well, this is grim,” Poppy remarked.

“Gardening is a bit low on my list of priorities right now,” Astarion replied, sounding fairly annoyed.  “But I agree.  Aesthetically displeasing.  A state of affairs I’ve had to grow accustomed to.  It’s irritating.”

“Why empty it out, then?”

“Half the plants here were aggressive.  They kept trying to kill people.  I much prefer plants I can use to kill other people.  I was unaware kelpies were such an issue here in the Underdark, we’ve had a full half-dozen run ins with the damned things.”

“I’ve never met a kelpie.  I’ve heard they’re very beautiful,” Lysander mused softly.

“You would die,” his sister retorted sharply.  “Please don’t go looking for them.”

“Drowning seems like a peaceful way to die.  Don’t you think?”

“No, love, it involves a lot of choking and thrashing and loosening of the bowels,”  Zynatheri said tolerantly, unphased.  “The right poison or a beheading will do you much better.”

“Beheading is classic,”  Astarion agreed.  “But what about you, dear?”

“I’m going to go out fighting.  I’ll spit blood in their eye as they run me through,”  Poppy said with delighted relish.  

“How vicious,” Astarion laughed.

She knew he was irritated they’d come, but Zynatheri was grateful to discover that he respected her requests to keep things like that private.  Whether it was because they were virtual strangers to him or not, it was still appreciated.  After Ilethra and Portia had gotten to meet him, she hadn’t seen real reason to refuse the twins that wouldn’t have been infantilizing on her part.  Just because they were the babies of the family didn’t make them children.

And she couldn’t say yes to Poppy and no to Lysander just because he had a more, mmh…passive personality.

But Hells, she was going to have to keep an eye on him.  If they weren’t careful, he’d wander into the middle of town in an open-fronted shirt, reading poetry and looking wistfully melancholic.  Then they’d have to explain to Lilithera how they’d gotten her youngest killed.

Or worse, they’d end up with a vampire-in-law.

Silly, lovely boy.

“Let’s try to stay at the House, loves, shall we?”  Zynatheri suggested as they wandered into the vaulted front hall, the massive funguswood doors she’d painstakingly magicked back to life cracked open enough for them all to file in.

“No exploring?”  Poppy asked, obviously disappointed.

“There’s plenty of exploring to do here,”  Astarion said, in tacit agreement with Zyn, which relieved her.  “I haven’t been in half the rooms of this place.  And on that note, we’re a bit low on furniture, so you may have to break out those bedrolls again.  I haven’t the supplies to be a good host.”

“I brought some furniture, and we’re fully provisioned,” Zyn assured him, and smiled at his questioning look.  “Lily found me a portable hole.  I thought it was high time I brought you some things to make this place a bit more livable, now that it’s survivable.”  And because she knew he’d be annoyed and she wanted to sweeten his temper so he didn’t take it out on the children.

Astarion shot her a look of wide-eyed gratitude that made her laugh.

“You suffer more than anyone has ever suffered before,” she teased him.

“Even a single rug sounds like bliss right about now.  The floors are always cold despite how warm it is here.”

“Little mum said you like to read, so I brought you books,” Lysander said, attention fixed somewhere among the buttresses.  He tripped slightly, staggered, and then straightened up with Poppy’s hand on his elbow, looming over all three of them.  “When you have time later, grandfather, Poppy and I were hoping we could speak with you.”

“My docket’s rather full for most of the night– at dinner later, perhaps?”

“Dinner?  Dinner’s already passed,”  Poppy said with a laugh.

“When you’re a visitor, you have to follow local customs.  We’ll follow his schedule.  You heard grandfather, he has a lot to do.”  Zyn turned her attention to him, raising an eyebrow.  “Should I put them in the room you gave me last time?”

“Thank you,” he said simply, already stepping away.  “I’ll leave you to it?”

As she’d much rather he processed their arrival away from the twins, Zynatheri left it at that and they parted ways.

It was always such a struggle to keep your damage from infecting those around you.  And Astarion?  He had a great many scars both literal and figurative.  Well, if he got too snippy with them, she could always threaten his life again.

There was always time for murder.

...

Astarion cradled his head in his hand, slumped deep into his chair.

“There is no need to waste energy on a farce of a court when immediate suppression is necessary to our survival,” Aurelia said firmly, with a hint of hurt and frustration in her voice.  “We lost another of our brethren today, and–”

Violet sighed in deep ennui, eyes rolling up and to the side as she splayed forward.  Resting her pale cheek on her palm, she stared at their tiefling sibling.  Her voice dripped with sing-song disdain. “Stop pretending to care.  You just want power.  You’re afraid giving Astarion judicial power means you can’t be Queen Aurelia.  Give it up. Nobody wants you to be in charge, you overbearing, weepy cow.”

“Why are we worrying about a few dead rothes when there’s runaway spawn out there, muddying our name everywhere we go?  We need to strike them down!  This is about our long-term survival!” Petras snapped, slamming his hands on the table.

Astarion sighed again, well aware Yousen and Dalyria were staring at him expectantly.  Of course when Petras said something, he was expected to respond.  “And what do you expect us to do in the short term, I wonder?” he asked, head rolling to the side as his hand dropped with an exasperated flourish.  “Do tell, brother.  Where does the money come from to fund your little hunting escapades?  Will we starve while you play?  Or are you just trying to get permission to go lurk in the nearest city?  Hmm?  Do a little clandestine hunting yourself?”

Predictable as always, Petras’ expression immediately stiffened.  Idiot.  Gods, at least he was still stupid; imagine if he’d actually become intelligent in the wake of freedom.

This all would be even more complicated.

They didn’t have the time for complicated right now, there were some corners that needed cutting.

“There’s no need to overthink it.  It’s only a judicial court, and we’re immortal!  We either execute people, flog them, or fine them within an inch of their lives.  What good will imprisonment do?”  Astarion declared, leaning back in his seat to scan across his siblings once more.

Dalyria gave him a look of disapproval, but he ignored it.

“He has a point,” Yousen said sardonically.

“We may not have time for building a code of laws just yet, but we cannot start executing people in the street!”  Dalyria protested, tearing her gaze away from Astarion.  “If people are afraid they will flee, and the damage already done will worsen.  What we need to do is focus on a cu–”

“Cure?  What, while we starve to death?  The idiots are killing our source of food.  They may as well die,” Petras said, giving Dal a look of frustration.  When she turned away from him, lifting her chin, he raised his voice sharply.  “Don’t ignore me because you don’t like my point!”

“Waaah,” Violet said snidely, rubbing her eyes with her fists.

“What an intelligent rebuttal.”

“Rebuttal?  What a long word.  Have you learnt to read at last, Petras?”

“Leon?”  Aurelia interrupted from the head of the table before things grew any more fraught.

“Do as you like,” their silent sibling said, staring at a polished black stone mural behind Aurelia’s head.  Leon’s voice was affectedly bored.  “What do they call those spider-drow, Astarion?”

“Driders,” he replied, cautious about the change in topic.  

“I found a skeleton of one below my House,” Leon said, voice musing.  “Within tunnels surrounding a whole…temple of Lolth.  Have we any knowledge regarding Lolth’s opinion on vampires?”

“Necromancy is common in Drow society,” Astarion temporized, trying to search his memory.  Did he know that?  Had he asked Zynatheri?  No, he didn’t think he had, beyond using their dead.  “Ritual sacrifice is her favorite activity, I doubt she draws the line at vampires.  Just try not to desecrate the temple?”

Being the opportunist he was, Yousen slithered into the conversation then.  “Lucky for us you’ve acquired a pet Drow, then.  You can ask it.”

“Jealousy is ugly, brother,” Astarion retorted dismissively, waving a hand.  Considering how she had chosen to arrive this time, he knew the information would have reached his siblings.  He also knew Yousen was ensuring that everyone else was certain to know.  Stirring the pot.  

Conniving little gnome.

“You should share food with the whole family.”

Fine.  He wanted to push?  Astarion was more than happy to push right back.  “Speaking of pets, brother dear, have you told Violet yet that you were the one who killed the kruthik hatchling she was keeping?”

Yousen went silent immediately, but the silence didn’t last long.

Within moments the table had descended into threats, verbal attacks, and accusations as two centuries of bile spilled over once more.  Normally Astarion would have been among them, goading, but being in control for the moment, he only felt a detached sense of amusement.  They were so easy to manipulate.

Granted, this wasn’t progress, but at least they weren’t irritating him any longer.

And wasn’t that what really mattered?

As the others attacked one another, Astarion and Leaon observed one another across the table in silence.  Their alliance was, and remained tenuous, but Astarion understood his youngest ‘brother’ more now than he had before.  What he had done– what he was still doing for his daughter– was completely comprehensible now in a way none of the others could understand.

It also, unfortunately, settled some of his rage and vitriol towards Zynatheri for never rescuing him.

Although he didn’t feel it, that urge to protect a child, he did at least understand it now.  It wasn’t fair that his grudge was being ruined with this new comprehension, but oh well.  She didn’t need to know he wasn’t angry any more.  

If she did, she might feel less guilty, and then she wouldn’t be so quick to placate him.

Eventually, when he made no attempt, Aurelia bullied and tearfully manipulated everyone back into line.  They made a few pressing decisions, though the greater one of ‘justice’ remained undecided apart from temporarily being shoved onto Astarion’s plate.  Dalyria was the odd one out, determined to give grace and understanding for some reason.  He assumed she wanted to pick a fight with Aurelia.

And Astarion also knew she was already experimenting on some of the spawn assigned to her House.  Another tidbit to keep in his back pocket.  One never knew when it might come in handy to toss out at a necessary moment– no matter how lenient he was towards the three of them, he was also more cautious around his sisters.

Yousen was wholly untrustworthy, Petras was stupid and petulant, and Leon, well…he was only here at all due to bribery and threats.

Things wound down a bit more tense than before, as they always did, and everyone parted ways to go back to secretly trying to manipulate one another.  Part of him had hoped being free would mean things would get better, but that seemed impossible unless they went their separate ways.  Their scars were all twisted together, making them parts of a whole in an unwholesome and unpleasantly familial fashion.  They had been forced to be family, but that was over, and somehow they still were.

Even Leon, though he denied it.

And right now, they needed each other.

He waited until they were all gone before leaving the table himself, knowing none of them would be stupid enough to go skulking through his House right now.  Later, when he wasn’t expecting it would be more likely.  He did note that Yousen hadn’t mentioned the children, which made him think that he hadn’t known they were Astarion’s mortal relations.

None of the children looked enough like Lilithera to be easily identifiable as his blood, thankfully.

Finally he rose to leave, ignoring the papers and reports.  Not now.  Now he wanted to relax, as being around family could be exhausting.

“Astarion.”

Hands clutched abruptly at his sleeve as he left the ancient dining room they’d been using as a meeting chamber.  Astarion paused with a start, exhausted mind already ready to snap until he looked into Violet’s worried eyes, her lips pulled down into a deep frown.  Annoyed, he still tempered his frustration.  Not listening to her would just send her into a fit.

“Yes, Vi?”

“Before the meeting over the judicial court, I overheard Petras telling Dalyria that Aurelia wanted them to vote against you.”

Astarion fought the urge to roll his eyes, well aware of the simple attempt at manipulation.  “While I appreciate you telling me, dear, you do know that for this to work, sometimes we will vote against each other?  Otherwise, what’s the point in making a council at all?  I would just name myself tyrant if that weren’t the case.”  As much as he hated to admit it.

“Yes, but they’re plotting.”

He tapped the end of her nose affectionately, and she clutched him closer, fingers creeping into the crook of his arm, possessive and spidery.  “Isn’t that what you’re doing right now?”

She smiled at him with an innocence that almost hid the wicked edge, ducking her chin, scarlet eyes averting.  “I thought you would want to know.  I’ve been working very hard on my House.  Will you come see it tonight?”

For a moment he nearly, habitually said yes, and then remembered the hapless relatives gamboling around in his House with fearless abandon.  Also, Zynatheri was waiting for him.  With a smile, he peeled her fingers from his arm, giving her hand a small pat as he released her.

“Tomorrow.  I have things to do, still.”

“You mean you’re going to spend time with your mortal.”  All affectation and smiles left her face; she didn’t even bother to look hurt or pained.  Just cold, and nasty.  “I don’t like her.”

“She is the only reason we’re safe down here,” he rejected her simply, taking her arm with a pointed air and all but dragging her to the exit.  The last person he wanted to be here right now was Violet.  

Once he ensured all of his siblings were gone, he turned away and headed deeper into the House, away from any errant spawn.

Every step echoed.

That echo was constant, a reminder of how empty this place was.  When Astarion had sent them to the Underdark and promised to follow, he’d been anticipating a crude camp, a constant struggle, carving a life out of dangerous caverns.  He’d even been considering leading them to Grymforge in the hopes of making it livable, but…

To have found this half-shattered, ancient Drow city was beyond all of his expectations, and it was Lilithera and Zynatheri who had made it possible.

But gods was it empty.

Then again, empty was better than how it had been when they’d moved in; stuffed full of monsters, traps, and other dangerous things.

He didn’t blame Zynatheri for preferring to be in his room– it was the only one decorated.  Again, thanks to her and her daughter.  He should dig something out of the artifacts they’d found to send back to Lily in thanks.  Something that wasn’t necromantic.  This time.

“Grandfather!”

The word still roused a twinge of unease, and not just because it made him feel old.  Because it made him feel dead.  It was the same reason he’d rejected Lilithera’s offer to find what remained of his mortal family– that all was so ancient and forgotten he would rather leave it that way.  For now.  But his own discomfort, well, it hardly mattered to the children.

And Zynatheri had made it rather clear she would murder him if he in any way upset them.

They bore down on him, golden-eyed, energetic Poppy and wistful, distracted Lysander.  A continuation of his life, like lively mushrooms sprouting from a dead log.  All of them made him feel the strangest sense of rejection and yearning, wanting what they were to him but not wanting to admit what he’d lost.  He did try to keep it from them, at least.

His relations were twisted enough without inflicting it on these bright, curiously innocent creatures his mortal life had made.

“Did you sleep well?”

“I’ve never been in a Drow Great House before!  Sometimes I forget that we’re quarter drow, it’s not like people see that.  They just call you a half-elf and be done with it,” Poppy chattered, beaming at him until her eyes crinkled like Lilithera’s.

“It’s beautiful and lonely,” Lysander opined, untidy hair falling back from his eyes as he gazed upwards. "The walls are full of ghosts, and the floors hold memories of blood."

Poppy grinned with a hint of feral excitement. “We were just going to go find little mum, to see if she wanted to go exploring! Maybe we'll find an ooze.”

Astarion knew by now that there was nothing she wanted less.  Lazy woman.  “Your grandmother is resting.  Under orders.  I would appreciate it if you two would head downstairs and survey the second level for me.  Take an inventory of what remains.  But if there’s danger more than a trap or a few undead, you have to promise to come fetch us at once.”

“We promise,” Poppy agreed earnestly, cheeks dimpling in an irrepressible smile.  

“Go on, then.  My rooms are just there,” he pointed down the left-hand hallway.  “You’ll be able to see the firelight.  You have…food and things?  Water?  Potions?”

“We are provisioned for the journey,”  Poppy said, curls bouncing as she nodded vigorously.

He was about to let them go, until a thought struck him, uncomfortable and worried.  No.  They weren’t truly safe here, were they?  Not even in his demesne.  It chilled him to think about what Violet would do if she had them in her hands.  “If you…see anyone at all.  Any strangers.  Please come right back.”

“Little mum told us not to trust anyone but you,” Lysander reassured him, those dreamy copper eyes suddenly, and surprisingly intent.  “We won’t succumb to the lure of darkness.”

“He means we won’t talk to strangers,”  Poppy said, with a hint of exasperation.  Grabbing her twin by his upper arm, she started dragging him off.  “Honestly!  They act like we aren’t grown,” she complained as she pulled him towards the grand staircase in the main hall.

“They have seen centuries; us, mere decades.”

“That doesn’t mean they have to be so overbearing about it,” Poppy complained.

“I’m still standing right here!”

Poppy glanced over her shoulder, pulling down the skin under her eye with her free hand, making a horrible face.

Reflexively he made a face back at her, and her expression shifted into an impish smile.  

Bemused, he watched them disappear into the darkness.

Once their footsteps died away, a thin silvery thread of sound drew his attention.  A soft, ethereal voice, languidly singing a wordless song.  A siren in the shadows.  It was the barest beckon, only audible due to echoes and the slight crack of the bedroom door that spilled gilded light into the massive ebon corridor.  

A lone figure, dwarfed by the empty and lonesome architecture, he followed that lure.

The austere, icy darkness of the reflective walls and ominous vaulted space faded away as he pushed open the door, the gilded firelight spilling over him.  It was warmer within, a spiral of steam rising from the newly-hidden bathtub in the corner.  The wood and silk folding screen Lilithera had bought him was in front of it, partially blocking it from view.

What had once been a room empty of everything but an icy stone bed frame and an empty basin was now a living space, hangings on the walls, rugs on the floor.  Books and furnishings and a sturdy desk covered in papers, curios.  A painting of his family on the mantle.  Signs of life and living, tucked into a space that was his.

And before the fire, lounging on the daybed with her nearly-dry alabaster hair cascading over the arm and down to the floor, was the curious creature who had barged her way into his life and gleefully disordered it.  A glowing golden glass of brandy was sitting on the floor just under her dangling fingertips, her moonstone eyes vague and distant.  Zynatheri was singing to herself, drowsy and soft, blue cheek pillowed attractively on a bright golden pillow, her knees curled up under his burgundy dressing gown.  The curve of one soft calf peeked out, her foot pointed off the cushion in a graceful, sinuous line.

Astarion was struck, in the oddest fashion, by a desire to let her do nothing but lounge and sing like a contented songbird for the rest of her life.  Avarice wanted her caged, unable to leave so that he could always have this curiously warm sensation, but humanity– if that’s what you wanted to call it– wanted her here like this.  A sweetly nested bird with no desire to fly away.

It suited her.

“Are you drunk, little fox?” he asked, amusement spilling over the words.

She startled, knees curling up to her chest, hands clutching the front of his dressing gown closed– as if he hadn’t seen the unbound, ripe curves of her bared chest already.  Accusing moonstone eyes turned on him.  “You bid me relax, brought me brandy, and I have drunk.  I cannot un-drink, or un-drunk.”

“But you can draw me a bath, it seems.”

“I heard you talking to the twins and heated it up, so it’s still warm.”

“Thank you.”

Pushing off the doorframe, he pulled the door closed behind him, knowing there would be a sliver of light in the hallway.  Feeling a sudden buoyancy in his mood, he paused while passing by the daybed, leaning over the curving back.  She peered up at him, nose wrinkling irritably as he swiped a finger down her cheek, the skin velvety and warm under his fingertip.

Mockingly, he rubbed his fingers together, inspecting them.  “Hmmh.”

“I washed,” she said, tartly.

“So you did,” he agreed, smirking to himself.

“There’s a wooden box of bath essences on the table,” she murmured, eyes slitting closed like a contented cat when his hand briefly rested on her head in passing.

The reaction was so soft, so natural, that his mind couldn’t help but dwell on what a more affectionate caress might do.  He might as well admit it.  Astarion was fascinated by the little minx.  Attracted to her.  He might be a little more uneasy about that if her two centuries of devotion felt in any way attached to some adoration or sexual desire, but they didn’t.

She’d looked for him for their daughter, not out of love or infatuation.  He knew what those looked like.  In her eyes he saw neither, just a friendly affection that had been slowly growing with each meeting, much like his for her.  But even her disheveled state of sexually charming disarray right now was just relaxation and her feeling comfortable, not any active attempt at seduction.

She was simply a seductive person.

Why was she still here?

Was it really just for the children?

His thumb caught the catch on the richly-scented wooden box settled on a small side table carved with sinuously twisted designs– a decorative table.  Such a small, pointless luxury, but one he had now.  The box was filled with small glass bottles, and he smelled them each until one struck him.  Earthy, woody, relaxed and warm.  

Not a scent made to hide anything, just to be enjoyed.

He plucked the oil out of the box, and headed for the heated water.  “What do you expect me to wear?”

“I’ll go dress,” she muttered drowsily.

“If the dressing gown is damp I don’t want it.”

He heard a huff, but no verbal response.

The vial poured into the water filled the air with an inviting, rich scent, beckoning him to relax.  After today, it wasn’t a lure he could resist.  Shrugging his clothing to the floor, he stepped into the deep tub, pleased to find the water scalded his skin, warm to the point of discomfort.  Perfect.

Astarion closed his eyes and sighed as he sank into it.

Seconds flowed by, languid, as he let the heat sink into his bones.  It felt good.  Rejuvenating.  The room would normally be empty, but he could hear the small sounds of someone else moving around in his space, filling it with a strange warmth.  Her footsteps, breaths, the soft hum.

“Sing me a song, little nightingale,” he murmured, lungs filled with heady steam.

Instantly, but distantly, she lifted her voice in song, a softly lilting little folk tune that was as gentle as it was morbid. Like so many folk songs.  Her sweet voice sank into him, relaxing muscles he hadn’t even known were tense.  

After so many nights alone in the darkness, working, having her here was a balm to wounds he hadn’t even known were causing him pain.

Her voice wandered closer as she completed the song, some little tune about a woman dying on her wedding day.  She tossed his dressing gown over the top of the curtain, followed by a loose pair of pants.  Nothing else.  He gave a rather pointed ‘ahem’.

“What?”

“Generally undergarments are worn under trousers.”

“Get your own underwear,” she scoffed, making him laugh.  Her voice softened minutely.  “Don’t worry about your dirty things, Lysander needs to practice his cantrips, I’ll have him clean them.”

“I was under the impression that he was learning wizardry, not bardic arts.”  Astarion scooped up the sponge, finally feeling relaxed enough to bother with scrubbing.

“Lily tried, but he just doesn’t have the mind for it.  Not stupidity, just focus.  He doesn’t like it, so his mind wanders– music is easier for him.”

“Too much of a dreamer.”

“Hmmh,” she agreed softly.  “We should let him dream.”

“I suppose it is a luxury we can afford him,” Astarion said, trying to ignore the weight of that statement and the bitterness it brought up.  “So what do you think of the twins’ grand plan to reconnect people with their families?”

Zynatheri sighed, the sound trailing off into silence.  Nothing but the crackle of the fireplace and soft sloshing of the water filled the air, until she finally blew out a breath between her lips.  “I think it has a lot of potential to do good, but also a lot of potential to summon an army of Lathander’s followers intent on wiping you all out.  I still think isolation and discreet alliances are your wisest courses until you are stronger.  I think that they are…thinking the best of people.  I think that they are thinking ‘our grandfather is a vampire, and we don’t care.  Why would anyone else?’”

She was absolutely correct.  There was no way they could survive a crusade, and any followers of Lathander would slay them on principle.  They were vulnerable, and would be for some years as they started slowly creeping past survival into thriving and growing.  And they needed those years.  Their weakness was a lack that only time and hard work could cure.

No skills, no martial talents, no magic even beyond Leon’s.

Which was why Astarion didn’t feel the least bit badly about blackmailing him into staying.

“I’ll speak to them.  Perhaps you and I could think of another outlet for their…youthful enthusiasm.”

“Do you even have the mental fortitude for more problem-solving?” she teased.

He gave an exhausted sigh that made her laugh, slumping back in the bathtub until his head rested on its edge.  Astarion closed his eyes.  It was a valid question, and the answer was no– but they both knew that.

“I’d like to help, but my knowledge is more broad than deep– I don’t know a lot about logistics.  But if it would help, I’d be happy to make a donation.  The twins will want to stay for a while, so I’ll have time to recover.”

Was she–

Shock spurred his tongue, water sloshing dangerously as he sat up straight.  “Are you offering me blood?”

“It’s the easiest way to help you, isn’t it?  I do like things that are easy.”

“I’ve never had someone offer it to me before.”  At least not out of altruism.  Thinking of that alchemist from Moonrise just made him disgusted, however, so he moved on quickly from thinking about that.  And in his current situation… “I’d be a fool to say no.”

“Should we wait until I’m sober?”

As much as he wanted it now, in a desperately hungry way– that uplifting warmth that washed away the eternal fog, that invigorating breath of life… “We should wait until dusk.  It’s nearly morning.  I’d hate to waste even a drop.”

“It’s funny how you can tell,” she said, and cracked a soft yawn.  “In the morn– er, dusk, then.”

The water was starting to cool, and with it his desire to be in it any longer.  It was a shame, though.  When she wasn’t here, the best he could do would be a cauldron heated over the fire, which wasn’t enough to lounge in, just enough to get clean.  But what real impetus could he give her to stay?  How could he make her stay and take care of him the way he wanted, the way she owed him for the two hundred years she’d done nothing.

It wasn’t at all true, but it felt true– which was enough for him.

It didn’t matter what he thought, as long as he didn’t say it.

Regardless, Zynatheri wasn’t in love with him, he couldn’t provide for her or offer her comfort that she wasn’t the one giving to him.  Asking her to stay would be asking her to struggle.  And for what?  So he could enjoy her company and the comforts that came with it?

Well…why not?

It wasn’t as if there would be any harm in asking, right?

If she wasn’t willing to stay and indulge him, then she’d simply say no and that would be the end of it.  She wouldn’t hold a grudge.  Right?  Of course that was right, why was he even second-guessing it?

When he finished dressing, she'd pulled herself up to sit on the daybed, leaving space for him. She'd thrown on her loose linen traveling shirt and trousers, bare feet tucked under her, head resting on her arm. He didn't ever think he'd seen her with a fully upright posture.

Always lounging like a cat.

The temptation was near-impossible to resist, and by now he knew she'd allow it.

Astarion was proven correct when dropping onto the seat next to her and slumping to the side only had her shifting her posture, legs dropping to the floor, back settling into the embrace of the fainting couch's arm. Willingly, he let her shift him from her shoulder to her lap, head falling onto the soft pillow of her thighs.

Gods, the damnable woman was comfortable.

“You’re so tired,” she said fretfully, running her fingers slowly through his damp hair as he adjusted himself.  “You need to relax more.”

“Two centuries of…spite, rivalry, competition, and puppeteering by our M– by Cazador has made it difficult between the seven of us.  They listen to me, of course, but the constant bickering…ugh. Exhausting.”

“Do I make things more difficult for you, because I keep coming by?  Would you prefer that I stay a–”  She stalled as he cracked open an eye and placed a single finger on her lips.  Bemused, she pursed them.

“Yes, I would,” he said.

“Then I’ll go,” she said, posture stiffening, an amusingly annoyed expression on her face.

“What are you talking about?”  Despite knowing exactly why he’d irritated her, Astarion pulled a confused expression.   A little game. Except...much to his surprise, he was the only one playing it.

Usually she was quick, but he’d forgotten– Zynatheri was drunk.

While her face went through a long journey of utter bemusement, he watched from his very comfortable position, highly amused watching her alcohol-sodden brain trying to function.  When she turned a glare down on him, he smirked.  The silly creature pouted.

“You’re taking advantage of my muddled head,” she whined, flicking his forehead.  

He swatted her away, knuckles smacking into the back of her hand, stinging.

“Owwwwh,” she whined pathetically.  “What are you doing?  You told me to go away, so I’m going away.”

“You didn’t say go away,” he replied, discreetly shaking his own hand.

“Yes, I did, I asked if you wanted me to go away and you said yes.”

“No, you asked if I wanted you to stay…” he finished by placing a finger on her lips again.

Her pretty moonstone eyes went rounder than usual, lips pursing under his finger out of shock and not affection.  Still amusing.  Cheeks flushing an unfairly charming shade of purple, she stared down at him.  His smirk grew into a wide, amused smile of delight.

Was she actually–

“You’re blushing!”

“No!  I don’t blush!” she protested, reaching up and clutching her cheeks.  “I’m flushed from drinking!”

“I’ve been lying here wondering if somehow all my charms have gone stale,” he teased her, laughing when she gave a faint ‘hmph’ and turned her face away, nose in the air.  He let his expression turn cajoling, amused by her pouty little act.  He saw the little peeks she gave him, wanting to know his reaction.  Softening his voice, he tried to lure her out with a low croon.  “Come now, little fox. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

She shot him a scornful, aloof look, her big silver eyes turning distant.  “Are we?  Well, friends shouldn’t be indebted to each other, should they?  I’ve been raising your non-vampiric spawn for two hundred years, that adds up!”

Offended, but too comfortable to move, he folded his arms over his chest, steepling his index fingers together.  “Really?  You’re extorting me?  I wonder what Lilithera would say if I told her that you said that.”

Immediately she puffed her cheeks, looking mortally, but hilariously offended.  Any attempts at dignity flew right out the window.  “Don’t you dare!  You bully!”

“I’m the bully?!  You just threatened me!”

“You were teasing me,” she replied, a little whine to her voice.

What a frustratingly, infuriatingly adorable creature she was.

“You’re impossible to be angry at.  It’s annoying,” he informed her, amused by her smile of triumph.  And then she went back to stroking his hair, which soothed away any thoughts of continuing the play-fighting.  His eyes closed, the rhythmic, affectionate touch soothing and gentle.  

His words gained no response, but he had no desire to break the peaceful, calm silence.  The fire crackled, her touch wound through his hair, strands curling around her fingers, tugging lightly when she freed herself.  It was hypnotic.

She smelled like brandy and night-blooming flowers, a rich, sultry perfume, and her lap was warm and soft as he lounged bonelessly against her.  Her embrace was possibly just a little better than the bath.  And all of this with the oddest lack of seduction or sexual intent– just intoxicatingly guileless affection.  It made him think of Lilithera’s words, about how she would ‘never make the first move’.  If she hadn’t by now…

Zynatheri’s velvety voice was soft.  “Did you mean that?”

He knew instantly what she was referring to; a shared thought.  “I don’t have anything to give you.”

“Hmm?”

“There’s no reason for you to stay even if I had meant it.”

Zynatheri gave another of those soft ‘hmm’s, voice a low murmur of sound.  “Do you think the pleasure of your company isn’t a reason?”

“Well, naturally, dear, but usually the company is a means to an end, not the end goal,” he said flippantly, not liking the direction of the conversation.

“Not for me,” Zynatheri replied, voice slow and casual.  “I’m a very simple creature at heart, Astarion.  I do what I enjoy.  I enjoy your company.”

 He couldn’t keep the frustration from his voice any longer, the odd uncomfortable anger he’d been feeling all evening when all he wanted was to relax.  His voice sharpened, body restless.  “There’s nothing down here, don’t you understand that?  No fine food, wine, society, no safe audience for your pretty songs but me.  It’s dark, cold, and empty.  Dangerous.  Every luxury I could possibly give you is something you’ve given to me.”

The comfort was unwanted now, meaningless in the face of his internal strife.  Astarion rose to his feet abruptly, pacing across the floor with frustration in every stride. He glanced at her, but it only made him feel badly, the rejected hand still in the air, her patient stare.  Why was she doing this?  Why did she keep wandering into his life only to leave?

It drove him absolutely mad.

Her voice was frustratingly calm.  “I feel like even if I said those don’t matter, you’d still feel otherwise.  Why is that?”

All of the frustration and annoyance he hadn't felt towards his siblings seemed to have turned on her, rising with the tone of his voice as Astarion whipped around to stare down at her.  “Because my mind keeps telling me all I would have to do is seduce you to keep you by my side, and I don’t want to do that any longer!  But without that…what?  What? What do I have to give you?!”

She watched him from the daybed still, cheek lowering to pillow on her arm, silver eyes turned up towards him.  There was the faintest hint of a smile on her face.  Infuriating wretch.

“What are you smirking at?!”

“Have you forgotten how to court someone without sex?” she asked, voice teasing him.

It was so unexpected that his anger lost its momentum immediately.  She– “Court– who said anything about courtship?”

“Isn’t that what you’re asking?  You want me to stay.  You want me to sing for you and coddle and spoil and flatter you– take care of you.  So…figure out how to make me want to stay, then.  And no, I don’t want to sleep with you either.  To make me be a part of degrading you in a way you’re finally free of just as an attempt to placate me…I’d never forgive myself.”

“Just– ugh.  Just because it isn’t about sex doesn’t mean it’s romantic.”

“No, it doesn’t have to be romantic…but it is,” she replied, fingers splaying against her cheek.  “I’m not going to pretend it’s not.  You’ve shown me what you have to offer me, told me why it’s not good enough, but I disagree.  I like what we have for what it is.”

“Yes, but that won’t get you to stay,” he insisted awkwardly.

“It might.”

Finally he had to avert his gaze, unease overtaking anger.  His emotions were confusing, shame and discomfort and disbelief that she was saying it at all.  But she was.  “You mean that, don’t you.”

“Just think about it.”  

He shouldn’t resent something as simple as her standing up, but he did.  Astarion knew she was leaving.  The last thing he’d wanted was to stew in his own mind like this, but it seemed his mind didn’t care.

“I’m going to go find the twins,” she said, confirming it.  “I think if you contacted our daughter, she’d be more than happy to help you.  But if you need somewhere to start…”  She grimaced, heaving her hair forward over her shoulder.  “You could learn to braid.  Rest well.  I’ll see you first thing in the evening, hmm?”

“I can’t help but feel as if I’m being punished for being honest,” he admitted, despite knowing it wasn’t true.

“I can see why it might feel that way.  But we’ve been dancing around in this gray area for a while, so it’s probably time to figure things out.  You were right to say something.”

“You’ve done a wonderful job of putting this all on my shoulders,” he pointed out, wishing she’d give him some damned indication of how she felt about it all.

She glanced over her shoulder and stuck her tongue out at him, and then smiled impishly.  “How much have I been doing for you lately?  Tsk.  The nerve of you.” 

“Well, how do I know you’re not this sweet to everyone?”  He gave her an aggrieved pout, crossing his arms.  “Maybe I’m not special.”

“You are.”

“And how many beautiful former lovers have you said that to over the years, I wonder.”

She smiled faintly.  “Ask Lilithera.  Sweet dreams.”

Well, it seemed she was determined to go.  As much as he wanted to shout at her, leaving things on a bad note would make their next meeting unpleasant instead of restful.  Right now, those crumbs of rest were all that was keeping him sane. 

And he wasn't going to lie and claim he didn't desperately want the blood she was offering.

“Sweet dreams, little nightingale.”

Zynatheri’s good mood was unabated, glancing over her shoulder with a wink at him on her way to the door.  “You sound so sulky,” she teased.

“Begone,” he ordered her irritably, throwing himself down on the daybed she’d abandoned.

Despite the fact that this room was no longer empty, her laughter still echoed long after she’d left.

[greyedian]

.

[mightybog]

Twenty Questions for Fanfic Writers

Thank you @liviapeleia for the asks <3!!

Tagging longtime frond @breadkween, fabulous runner of @merlinmicrofic @queerofthedagger (thank you!) and reader and writer who's left me lovely comments @achillesuwu. @mythandmagic, Ao3 is down rn so I can't check but if you have any fics yourself, here's an ask game for you! There's no obligation, presh or time limit of course! Also like @liviapeleia said before me, consider yourself tagged if you see this!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

11

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

265,960

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Right now just Merlin. I've written for other fandoms in the past but each of those works have been standalone.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Always His Destiny | Merlin | A true love's kiss, resurrection and golden age AU written for Glompfest 2024.

Like Every Tree Stands On Its Own | Merlin | A longfic inspired by other Arthurian media/sources featuring Wildman Prophet!Merlin and a magical forest. This is my magnum opus.

What's Mightier Than a Sword and Robs a Prince of His Servant? | Merlin | Pre-slash Merthur minor canon-divergence in which Merlin's talents in speech writing land him a promotion and Arthur is Not Pleased™.

Only Human | Venom | A short gift/exchange fic about masturbation, lol. The fic I received in exchange was also about masturbation. In my defence this was a writing exercise (I promise).

The Sky Is Falling | Nightvale | Unfinished fic about alcoholism recovery, love, community and the complete collapse of reality.

...Okay wow what a mix :D

5. Do you respond to comments?

I really love comments and I love getting into discussions with readers! It really makes my day to see that someone has commented on one of my fics.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Am I allowed to choose a soon to be published WIP? Words Are Dead, a microfic inspired by the Agnes Obel song of the same name in which Merlin and Arthur are unable to communicate when Arthur returns. Merlin has lost Brythonic, his first language, and his capacity to relearn it. He's simply been alive for far too long and his mind has suffered :(

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Like Every Tree has a prolonged bittersweet kind of ending but I think Always His Destiny wins.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Nope/not yet!

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes, though so far it hasn't been the focus of any of my works, there's no reason why that can't change though (the Venom one doesn't count, I make the rules here). As to what kind I'd say loving and intimate, I guess? Sometimes with a bit of a hurt/comfort element to it. Again, no reason why I can't branch out in the future ;)

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

While not labelled as a crossover, Like Every Tree was heavily inspired by Arthurian media both new and old, and one medieval Irish source. I did so much research for this fic and I'm still down those various rabbit holes. It was a homage to my favourite, janky cartoon movie from my childhood Quest for Camelot. Otherwise I don't write proper crossovers.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Don't think so.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Also don't think so.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No but I would love to!

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

I guess it really has to be Merthur! I don't recall a ship ever having such a hold on me. Those two are doomed but made for each other. The way they interact is so much fun to read/write.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Damn, this is definitely Be Here When the Weather Turns, a Mushi-shi fic. It has a very soft, restful and liminal vibe and I adore it. I really do wish I can finish it someday. So sometimes like a song, you share a piece of media with someone, or you associate it with a particular chapter in your life, and that song/piece of media brings up feelings. I'd like to think it's still worth a read. If you don't know Mushi-shi, please consider checking it out, it was weird and quiet and beautiful.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I can't deny that I put a lot of love into this hobby. Also @breadkween has told me that they really like my dialogue :3

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I'm really prone to typos. I can re-read something a hundred times and just fail to see them. I'm a very slow writer; what I put out usually goes through months of edits and change-ups. Lastly I have embraced a faux-pas or two for fun, such as starting sentences with 'and.' And no one can stop me >:)

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I'd only be comfortable writing dialogue in a language I've formerly learned and have some level of familiarity with for fear of getting something wrong.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Okay I love this question because the answer is the highly formative Garth Nix's Keys to the Kingdom series, a YA series I was obsessed with, and have continued to read, and re-read as an adult and as unexpected prequels and sequels popped up in more recent years. I wrote it on a literal floppy disk :D First fandom I wrote for that I actually published online was Undertale.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Definitely Like Every Tree. I'm just really proud of it :3

[j2zara]

@neerdowellnarrator sorry to snoop but, I have something along those veins? I caved so here is the other half of the unfinished wip—the part where LJ3 are arguing over the what they're gonna do about The Name. It's in a state rn, but I thought it was kinda fun and melodramatic and at least kiiindda matched both prompts?

_

“It’s not going to work…”

Ellie doesn’t know how long they’ve been lying there, the springs from her mattress digging into her sides, but it’s not until she can hear Blue’s quiet snores that she braves herself to speak.

“Hm?” says J3, half asleep, shifting so that his chin rests on her shoulder. “Wha’s’at?” He stifles a yawn, a sound that Ellie finds precious despite herself. Despite everything.

She takes J3’s arms wrapped around her waist and holds them tighter to her person—her last indulgence since their break. She can’t help herself. It’s one thing to give up sex, it’s another to give up her one fool-proof trick for a full night’s sleep free of nightmares. 

She’s always told herself that when she broke her rules, it was for a good reason. But she knows it’s bullshit.

She just doesn’t want to give up her last good thing.

But this time, she needs the comfort. When she thinks about what comes monday—the student president election, it’s like her brain just—stops. Their whole miserable half-lives have led up to this. Life in Jaceprime’s basement has been hell on earth, but at least there was ritual in the mundanity. At least she knows who she is when she’s resisting captivity.

What happens when the God of War gets exactly what he wants? What happens when he doesn’t?

Maybe she doesn’t have to tell him how she feels. Maybe they really are matching spares. Maybe, just maybe, he can just feel her tremble, and that is why he gives her hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Ellie?” he tries again.

“The, uh… The ritual. It’s not going to work.” Ellie’s always thought of herself as someone who was unafraid to speak her mind. Hell, she’s gotten into shouting matches with the guy who locks them in the basement every night. So why is she so afraid to speak? “The—The name is wrong, J3.”

The quiet is painfully long. Finally, he says, “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Positive.”

She expects more questions, maybe pushback. Instead, he says, “Okay. I believe you.” A beat. “Does Porter—”

“No. Not yet, at least. But when he does—”

The sound of shifting blankets from across the room, and she can feel J3 stiffen beside her. She, too, has gone completely still.

What do you think he’ll do?

J3’s voice in her head when the rustling stops. A Message.

Well… says Ellie, If he doesn’t smash us to bits—send in the Ratgrinders on the cloudrider, I guess. So close to the deadline, the attack on Seacaster Manor is our only chance to get it.

Makes sense.

And he’ll probably send Boss in to supervise.

Or one of us, says J3.

She nods. Or one of us.

Deadened silence.

You still have that ring I gave you, right?

Ellie touches her Ring of Disguise Self, turns the band around on her finger—a reflex. She can feel her cheeks flush, and she’s grateful to be turned away from him. Even though she’s mad at him, she can’t bring herself to give it back. “Yes. I—of course I do.”

Okay. Good.

J3 is quiet.

What are you thinking? asks Ellie.

I’m thinking… You should volunteer for the cloudrider mission.

“What?” says Ellie, too loud. She hears a quiet, disgruntled mmph from Blue, and the creak of a mattress. More quietly, she tries again. “What? Why?”

‘Cause I’m gonna take your place.

Ellie jerks around to face him. She’s been trying to keep her cool all evening, but she can’t. It’s no use. It’s not who she is.

“No!” cries Ellie, and J3 shushes her, glancing over at Blue’s bed. Thankfully, the curtains are still closed, but she doesn’t care. She opens her mouth, intent on giving him a piece of her mind, but—

There’s something so resolute in his expression that she forgets to breathe.

He has the audacity to smile at her. Like they’re having a slumber party, exchanging secrets late into the night. Instead of plotting treason. El. Think about it. They’ll never know the difference.

“You’re insane.” Ellie sits up. You can’t do that for me, J3. Besides. Boss’ll never believe it. He’ll know something is up immediately. She hesitates. She’s disgusted with herself for even entertaining the idea; disgusted that a part of her is moved. But it’ll never work—not when she’s J4. She’s not the precious gift, or the shiny toy, she’s the mistake. “You know me, I’m—I’m whiny and stubborn, and—”

J3 follows her. The blanket falls to the floor. His eyes are wide, animated—he’s speaking with a fervor she’s never seen from him before. He takes her face in his hands—Which is why we’ll—I’ll— convince him that it was his idea. Like, it’s, I dunno—a punishment.

Ellie doesn’t answer.

C’mon, El. He’s still smiling. Like this is some sort of game. You know I can do it.

A beat. How does she tell him that that’s exactly what she’s afraid of?

“I—I can’t, J3.”

You can’t deny it, El. You know they’ll both be preoccupied during election night. It’s the perfect window.

A beat. The thing is—he’s right. They both know it.

And it might be your last chance, before—

“No.”

“Yeah. I know it’s not all that, but we don’t have that much time, alright? I figured we could at least try… y’know?”

“No, J3. ‘No’ As in. I can’t ask you to do this for me.”

You didn’t have to, El. You—You deserve a real shot out there, you get that, right?

Ellie’s heart is hammering in her chest. Talking to J3 has always been hard enough when he’s flirting, cracking jokes, doing what he always does. She didn’t realize how much worse it was to talk to him when he’s being sincere. 

He really believes in her, doesn’t he? He always has.

J3 is still cradling her face in his hands.

Stupidly, Ellie yearns for him to lean down and kiss her—when that should be the last thing on her mind. Instead, she murmurs—“But what about when he finds out the truth, J3? What then?”

The corner of his mouth tugs in a small smile—bewitching and infuriating.

Well. You’ll be long gone by then.

“Don’t be stupid!” says Ellie, wrenching away from him. I’m not leaving you.

“Why?”

The utter confusion in his expression could break her heart. She knows who to blame here. Knows that He is the reason J3 is the way he is. Knows she can’t just cut and run like J3 wants. Come Ascension day, she’s going to take the Big Guy’s maul and drive it straight into His face.

“What do you mean ‘why’? You know why!”

Ellie hates feeling this way. She wants to tell J3 that she is not like Him, she will never be like Him. Wants to tell him that he’s never been a spare, that she would never, ever, use him as a shield. Wants to tell him the truth about her plan, that she’s not going anywhere—at least without taking the Big Guy down with her. Wants to tell him that she can’t go alone—that she can’t see a future without him.

She wants to tell him that she loves him.

J3 is the first to break the silence. “Why won’t you just let me do this for you? I’m dead either way, at least this way—”

“Will you quit talking like that? What I wanna know—is why you’re so insistent on this. You know full well I can’t go anywhere. Not without being Dispelled.”

J3 is quiet.

“J3. What did you do?”

“I cut a deal with Him, ok? With, ah, the Big Guy.”

A beat.

“You did what?”

J3 is avoiding her gaze. “He knows the name is busted, he found out yesterday. And so I—I made the terms. I get him the name, he becomes a god. You get True Life, and you’ll be gone before Jace knows anything.”

She can feel herself blinking back tears—whether they stem from hurt or anger, she does not know. “How could you do this? You’re working with Him?”

“What do you want me to say, El?”

“He’s evil!”

“Well, I’m not a hero, ok! Not like you. At least this way, everyone gets what they want.”

“Everyone? J3, are you serious?”

“Yes, everyone.”

What about what you want?

“All I know is that—I want you to get out, ok? You deserve to live your life, El. I dunno. Out of all the things I’ve ever wanted, I think that’s the only one that's ever meant anything at all.”

Ellie is shaking—she’s still refusing to cry, refusing to wrangle with the cataclysm of pain and longing and grief that threaten to overwhelm her—which is why she’s running on pure fury and disgust and betrayal when she reaches for him, unsure what she’ll do until she’s grappling him by the shoulders and pinning him to the mattress. J3 struggles against her, but Ellie doesn’t let up. For once, it’s not a game, and he is not getting out of it with a pout and a brat routine. She grabs the butterfly knife under her pillow and holds it to his throat.

A beat. 

He smirks. “See you kept the gift.”

“Shut up,” she growls. She presses the blade further into his skin, watching as his neck flushes red, following the trickle of a single drop of blood.

“There’s not going to be a deal, you get that? I’m going to kill Him. Whatever it takes. Don’t try to stop me. And don’t get in my way.”

J3’s mouth parts—Ellie watches his chest rise and fall as he just breathes, staring up at her. 

“You won’t hurt me.”

He’s looking at her with so much trust that she aches. Ellie can hear the knife clatter to the floor before she even realizes what she’s done. That she’s let go. She leans forward, speaking softly into his ear.

“J3. I swear—if you even think about taking the fall for me, I’ll—” She has to think quick. Something that a long rest won’t heal. Something that will stick—a blemish on that perfect face of his, hers, theirs, Jace’s—so that Boss will never get them mixed up ever again—

Her hand curls around his throat. “I’ll break your fucking nose.”

He's not going to destroy himself for her. She’s never letting anything happen to him ever again.

[cruelprincae]

Deer Cardan,

You shud definitely flirt with Prince Stolas. He is the best bird evar, and has a rly gud heart. Also his ex was maybee a fukking idiot who hurt him, so he deserves lots ov gud things rn -- like fae revels and shit.

Pls go love on him, or at leest bee his Friend?

xoxo, Blitzo

((Sorry, hi, just had to send a ridiculous ask once I saw that you existed and are mutuals with Jude! Feel free to ignore, I just am over here like omg yes, please, Stolas and Cardan could have the best dang dynamic ever! Apologies for all the cheering from the peanut gallery xD))

@doublejango sent a rather illiterate missive / unprompted asks open

Exceedingly few are the things he can comprehend from the tattered note that nearly pierced through his head as it arrowed into the brick wall of his chambers; The words are narrowed and dragged, which, in addition to being horridly misspelt is of no aid to Cardan's desperate attempt to read through them ― which ought to be an achievement on its own accord, considering that, as one of the Folk, he can speak and comprehend every language that is spoken amongst mankind.

Alas, throughout bits and pieces, there are some words he does understand such as Prince Stolas, who is evidently a bird and is currently in possession of an ex ― that, and faerie revels, although more than a few sentences have predated such, and thus, the Prince uncertain of whether the revels concern the bird or the ex. And, given that the sender of the missive provides no further elaboration, Cardan assumes his inquiry will be unanswered.

Although he is still unsure as to why the letter addressed to him called him a deer, for unlike his brother, Dain, he has neither deer horns nor deer legs. Perchance, the letter was meant for another Cardan ? Mab, he is far too strung and high from the revel held in the grand halls of Hollow Hall to even begin to make sense of what is written.

❛ I understand none of that, ❜ Comes the groaned mutter as a beringed hand reaches to rub the bridge of his nose, just between his eyes, where a growing ache begins to throb. Moving away from the ray of sunlight illuminating the note, he throws it upon his desk alongside the rest of his yet unfinished work and instead falls face first into the soft, fur-covered pillows of his bed where he proceeds to rest; finally alone, and without the presence of any courtiers.

[writerofstuff]

Hi, I'm one of your feral commenters on your fic "The Case of Richard Rowland" (spectacular work btw), just wanted to give you an update on the possible comic I mentioned in my ch 7 comment;

I'm 85% done thumbnailing the whole chapter (and dying about it) , it's the first first draft if you will.

I knew it was gonna be so so difficult, for many reasons, one of them being that I know absolutely nothing about comics, I don't even read any except manga.

Unsurprisingly, it's even more difficult than I thought, especially since I'm trying to adapt the animation I imagined of your chapter into a medium that is, imo, much more limiting.

Rn I'm just putting everything down, bit like brainstorming really, once that's done I'll dive into research and ref gathering on how to make comics, then I'll refine what I have, make another thumbnail, and then I'll draw a first sketch w/o colors.

If you want (it's completely fine if you're not interested), I wouldn't mind showing you the first sketch once I have it, since idk if I'll be capable of finishing the whole thing lol

(plz don't get your hopes up too high, I draw once every 84 years and I never manage to finish a single piece :')), additionally, this will be my first comic, so it's not gonna be state of the art;;;)

I hope it's alright that I contacted you about this, I'm abysmal at online social interaction so I apologize if this is awkward/uncomfortable, I assure you I'm not going to harass you about my project;; just letting you know I was serious;;;

Hope you're doing good and having a nice time :)

Oh my god.

Please know that I would love to so see the first sketch of your comic. It would be my absolute honour. My mind is honestly blown; it doesn't matter whether your art is finished or unfinished or half-finished. Just the fact that you thought of it? That you started planning it? It already means everything.

If you are comfortable sharing, I would love to see your art, in any and all its forms. And please do not hesitate to contact me here or at ao3 for anything at all - I am always up for a conversation! This is honestly the best thing I have ever woken up to. This means a lot.

All the very very best for your project! I am not a professional artist, but I have read a lot of manga and also handdrawn a couple of comics in my own time, so if there is any way I could help, I am all here! Thank you so much for putting in such effort for my small messy fic on ao3 - I honestly cannot wrap my head around it, except that this is the best thing ever. Thank you.

I hope you are having a lovely time too! Please take care, and have a great day!

♡

[you-have-made-a-fatal-error]

semi-annual tradition of roasting HeR's questionable fucking merch because all their designs are bad again let's goooo ->->->

remember how for a bit there it felt like HeR was putting some effort into making their merch good? desirable? well-designed?

welp it seems pretty clear they're done with that, because i'm sorry but this just looks awful. the font? bad! the horse/lasso clipart? bad! the layout? very, very bad!

"I left my at Shadow 💛 Ranch" are you serious rn? bad! i don't think you tried at all!

actual Mystery of the Seven Keys merch ffs why isn't it called Case of the Seven Keys that sounds so much better has dropped - and while it's nothing special (though some of it is weird - hey do you want an 8x10 metal print of the game 'cover' awkwardly centred on a blurred, indistinct background? 'cause HeR made 'em!) it seems like they can't decide what nancy silhouette to use? because while most of it uses the new exorcist-head-turn pants-y drew silhouette, they've also got a couple pieces with the classic silhouette - the one they haven't used since Stay Tuned for Danger. because who needs brand consistency.

(the nancy silhouette use from mhm to sea - aka for nearly 90% of the games - has not resurfaced.)

the presence of actual KEY merch raises the spectre of who they think is gonna buy all the merch they made during the lead-up to the game - seriously is there any reason someone would buy this now?

i would also argue there was no need for anyone to buy any of these before, but now? $60 for a hoodie with your fucking launch date?? really???

does anyone know what separates the 'classic' icons on the left from the 'deep cut' icons on the right? also wow they're really just never going to acknowledge ran at all anymore huh.

ah yes. noted 'deep cut' references. like henrick. and ethel. and hotchkiss.

these next designs are clearly not the worst things in the store and while I guess they're not awful though I don't like the font they are blatant Bess and George erasure and thus I hate them on principle.

Bess + George > Deirdre. Also, Bess + George > FrankenJoe. hope that clears things up.

the 25 year anniversary merch is a whole load of bad - the 'and all i got was this lousy _____' trend is lame, and has been for 10,000 years, but there are worse crimes. the mug is just boring in a way that looks unfinished rather than minimalistic. font crimes from the magnifying glass - every time i see it i think it says 'snoopers' not 'snooping'. i actually thought the teal callback designs were kind of neat in a nostalgia-bait kind of way until i realized the necklaces were the only option without all the text under the magnifying glass? maybe folks who were more active on the boards get a nostalgia kick from that last one but i'll be honest, it does nothing for me.

i don't mean to be an exhausting pedant but. no sassy detective until trt, no koko kringles until ssh, no easter eggs until dog, no horse shirt until ddi, can't call carson until clk, no lost luggage until dan. also the placement of the text is just. weird. doesn't look right.

and jenna's whale t-shirt still isn't available in green. bye.

[mikkomacko]

this is me rambling and i'm sorry in advance if it's just all over the place oml 🥲😭

i watched thunderbolts the other day and for anyone who saw this: reader and her boys they probably give them a run for their money regarding how much they're familying HARD 😌😌😌😌😌 chapter 13 is my new favorite you really left me speechless many times...in all the good ways!! your writing is so raw and real and i will never ever stop thinking about nico and reader being the absolute endgame 😭💕

HUGHES BRO CODED:

seriously i held my breath the entire time after the car chase...GOD YOU ARE SO GOOD WITH THIS

luke and jack's backstory...💔💔💔 there's only a piece left of me now...

AND

"I can't live knowing that their family didn’t save them, Alex's didn’t save him, even yours Nico...how am I supposed to just accept that? To fix that?"

"You don't have to fix it, you just need to shoulder it for a bit. Until they can carry it for themselves."

I NEED TO SIT BY THE OCEAN FOR THIS

and this is so random now and even out of place in this series but it just happened to pop up!!

i'm not sure if this has been mentioned before (if it has i'm so sorry 😭) but i can't stop thinking about a masquerade ball scene, especially with quinn in the picture now...there's something about the devs and canucks clashing at an opera ball, maybe the canucks infiltrate (especially with the unfinished business going on)

maybe jesper initiated it...i was thinking who out of the devs could since it's more a european thing? 🤔 in europe we have the vienna opera ball, in sweden there's the royal opera where they also host masquersade balls which jesper could've went to when he was younger and it somehow stuck with him or maybe nico's parents took him there once back in the day and he wanted to create something similiar in jersey and all the devs allies are there too + their families, it's private, they also gamble and every profit goes to the recruitment fund (?) and our godess reader is taking the reigns through and through ahhhhh

spamming you with some moodboards for this too 🫣

just imagine timo in the right bottom corner one 🙂‍↕️

but regardless of my rambling...everything you did with this series is outstanding!!! always and forever ❤️

STOP IM GONNA SEE THUNDERBOLTS TOMORROW AND THIS MADE ME EVEN MORE EXCITED

Thank you so much the ramble because umm the masquerade ball idea??! Beautiful I love it oh my god. I’m gonna have to find someway to add it

Need to depict Timo in the slutty red shirt half unbuttoned rn 🙏🏻

Ilyyy so much

[wyrmwhispers]

✨️

🦋

🎁

💡

for the fic Fanfic Writer Ask Game

✨Out of the comments you’ve received on your fics, what are two or three of your favorites?

Thats an evil question because you and mira leave such lovely comments, i can't possibly choose my favorite. I do really love both yours comments on strategy but that may also be because strategy probably my favorite fic i've ever written.

🦋 Which character is your favorite to write?

In general probably jace because he's so easy to make miserable, but specifically baby baela because she's so funny. but I love writing Rhaena as well which is relevant to my newest fic and also the next chapter of if i make it to the morning.

🎁 Have a piece of a WIP you want to share?

Here's a bit of rhaenyra's fic for modern au, that i probably wrote back in november, and honestly forgot about. if i ever finish the main modern au fic then this will be next but uhhh its not looking great for every step rn.

"The first time Rhaenyra saw Harwin she was kind of drunk. Past tipsy definitely but not drunk, in her opinion. If you asked anyone but her they’d say she was definitely drunk but also surprisingly sober for the situation. The situation was a Saturday night college party. It was maybe at a frat. She didn’t know. She’d stopped asking questions about where parties were months ago as long as she could get in and get drunk. 

 Her roomate Lyla was her partner in crime at this party, as always. Rhaenyra and Lyla weren’t friends really, but Lyla knew a lot of people and how to fake ID’s and how to get into parties you weren’t allowed to be at, and really anything as long as it sat on the line of illegal and legal. They went to parties and stuck together for the mutual goal of still being alive and safe by the end of the night. 

So when she saw Harwin across the room at the party, her first thought was god, he’s big. Her second thought was I’m getting railed tonight. And her first action was to say that aloud to Lyla. Lyla followed her gaze, then shoved Rhaenyra in his direction with a drunken cheer." 

💡How many WIPs do you currently have?

depends on how you count wips. I have four that are like half written unpublished things: modern rhaenyra's fic, a modern au christmas fic partially inspired by national lampoons christmas vacation, a scene and a half of what i believe was a daemon and baela character study(?) i kinda forgot what that one was supposed be, and as of five hours ago, the next chapter of morning.

as of things that just aren't done, peace is technically unfinished, every step, and my new jacaena au, once in twenty lifetimes, count as well.

[teddybeartoji]

hi mickey! i'm going through major writer's block rn </3 so i'd like to ask, how do you finish your works? :3

💀💀💀💀💀💀💀i'm quite possibly THE worst person to ask this i'm afraid lmao unfortunately i work purely on bursts of motivation and energy so i work on whatever i want to work on at the moment which means i have a lot a lot a lot of unfinished stuff sadly

buuuuut one thing that does help me get more in the Zone is to listen to music!!!!! smth based on whatever you're writing at the moment yk? like i have a full folder of playlists specifically made for my bigger works and whenever i listen to them it helps me ground myself a little if that makes sense? helps me concentrate a bit more, helps me put myself in the situation. when i'm woking on my apocalypse au i put on a tlou gameplay vid as background noise and that too is a way for me to focus.

pinterest helps a lot aswell actually!!!!! i also have different folders for different au's and so sometimes i just stare at the pics and that helps too

aaaaaaand one more thing that helps me focus is to change the environment. like i often find it very hard to focus in my own room so lately i've been just using the living room as my little makeshift office and i feel like i'm way more productive there. i know some ppl want to get out of the house entirely and go to libraries or cafes yk?

aaaaaaaaaaaand lastly i feel like sometimes it's just good to step away overall. just take a break. i just shut off the computer and everything and then idk read or play video games or watch smth ooorr go for a walk. helps to clear my head. i can't pressure myself into writing at all and while i do think it's annoying, i don't think it's necessesarily a bad thing bc if i don't want to write, if i don't have words, if i'm just forcing them out.. it won't be good. i think all of my favourite pieces have been stuff that i've loved writing. and i mean i've loved the whole PROCESS of writing not just the outcome.

you have to have patience and you have to understand that there really is no rush. writing is supposed to be fun, or at least ENJOYABLE yk? i think my overall motto is just that you can't force anything. if it's not working out rn, it's not working out – but that doesn't mean it will NEVER work out. it's okay to take a break and do something else for a while. the piece won't go anywhere. oh and actually i do want to add that i have gotten way better ideas after i've taken some time off,, like i come back and it's like my brain has grown twice the size. so yeah. take breaks please. and don't rush it, don't force it. i love you<3333333

[viperwhispered]

hi hi ner!! 👻💕🎨 for the ask game !!

Aaa Ian here you are again coming in with the questions that I really have to think about (it’s fine don’t worry but oof these aren’t easy ones for me to answer).

👻 What is your wildest headcanon?

I mean all my opinions are factually correct so… Jk, jk. Kind of a tricky question, tho 🤔

I know I’ve said this before but I kinda never know when character / canon interpretation or interpolation crosses over into headcanon territory. Plus I generally do try to be pretty canon-compliant and base my interpretations on that.

Basically, for all those folks making headcanon lists and stuff, my brain just does not work that way and not sure I'd ever be able to produce one of my own.

Hmm…

Honestly, I’m totally drawing a blank here, sorry 😔 I guess if I’ll ever throw something wild into a fic, you’ll find out?

Only thoughts I can even kinda grasp rn are nsfw and uhhh some of those are definitely more personal wish fulfillment than actual headcanons.

💕 What is your favorite fic that you’ve written?

Aaa how can I even choose.

I mean also a big chunk of it is smut and a lot of it isn’t widely available (and I probably can’t remember the existence of half of it off the top of my head), so…

I suppose in some sense Of Cows and Curses and Consequences (Hatsuharu x reader, Fruits Basket) is my magnum opus, at least as far as longfic and plotting is concerned. Yes, it is very unfinished and I haven’t touched it in ages, but I worked so properly on that one, outlining my chapters and the story (like, I’ve got notes like 10 chapters ahead of what’s been published), which makes it stand out. Plus it was one of the first if not the first fic I ever wrote (if we don’t count the beginnings of a young teenager self-insert for Earth’s Children that never made it past couple hand-written pages). So yeah, a bit of a “go big or go home” start to my fic writing journey. 😅

Also whatever was the first fic I wrote with a friend’s tastes specifically in mind. Always love it when I can get someone right in the feels (definitely a big reason for why I write in the first place, but that’s a story for another time before I get even more off-track).

Honestly there’s so many pieces I could consider notable for being a first in something or otherwise meaningful but I really can’t pick just one.

🎨 If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see?

Oh boy so many Jamil scenes coming to mind. Fixation would have so many tasty bits (some of them even sfw, oop), some whump for the Kali & Shiva analogy thoughts (it could be so cool even if it also would hurt me so bad 😭), Jamil’s first realization moment (or any flustered bit, really) from How Not to Be Swept Under… All of them would be lovely ngl.

Though honestly, if anyone ever were to make anything (draw, write, whatever) inspired by my works, I would probably just combust and live off the high for a week (or a few).

I’m afraid my answers for these ones are kinda rambly and not super definitive but alas, it is what it is. Can’t pick just one for many of these. Still, ty for the questions Ian! I hope my answers weren't too disappointing.

(ask game here for anyone else curious)

[radicalreliablerandomness]

RAD (shavu'a tov!)

AS MY LOCAL PODCAST EXPERT

DO YOU HAVE PODCAST RECOMMENDATIONS FOR THE THREE WEEKS SO I DON'T CRY EVERYDAY ABOUT THE LACK OF MUSIC?

Hey dude I see you’ve been enjoying the three weeks lol. Here’s a handful of different ones for u:

if u want to start dungeons and daddies youd be the second person I tricked into it through the three weeks so that would be pretty funny. There’s about one and a half seasons rn and each episode averages an hour and a bit. Dnd podcast about four dads thrown into a fantasy world during carpool.

If you want a short miniseries to wet your feet the behemoth is great. Episodes can be 5-15ish minutes long and there’s only twenty episodes. It’s a thoughtful piece based around a large creature that appears one day and focuses on how the rest of the world interacts with it.

Death by dying is a fun one. Unfinished as of now but there’s two season which adds up to a bit over ten episodes averaging anywhere from 20-50 min. It’s about an obituary writer in a spooky town who sometimes has more of a hand in post mortem than just writing the obituaries.

An absolute gem is monstrous agonies. Episodes are around 15 min and there’s around three seasons of content. Mock radio show that answers questions from the creature community. Super calming and comforting.

last one for the road: story break. Episodes are an hour and theres a ton of them. The premise is that there are these three writers in a room and they take a media (Sonic, chess, Wikipedia) and try to make a movie for it in an hour. You’ll laugh, cry, think about movies that aren’t even real.

[thee-rat-king]

S & D Tier Comic Adaptation - Issue 1 (draft one)

This is deeply unfinished by I believe in showing my work and this is my first time scripting a comic. It’s not professional formatting, but I’m doing my best and I’d like to share what I have so far. Constructive feedback is appreciated!!

(NOTE: I know that describing panel layout is a bit gauche, I have done it in a few places just for visualisation, as this is being read by anyone, not just a specific art team)

Page 1

Panels 1-4 - introductory splash art of four seperate FAIRNESS ASSOCIATION HEROS. (first draft first draft I don’t have all the details yet).

Panel 5 (central inset) - a group of FAIRNESS ASSOCIATION HEROS, led by THE CHADSTER are flying towards the outer atmosphere in the invisible jet.

Chad: my friends, this time I am certain we shall defeat this dastardly villain

FAH #2: [something vaguely reasonable, Alex is Big Scary blah blah blah]

Page 2 and 3 - a double page spread of SPACE!!! it is BIG AND EMPTY!!! To the lower left of page 2 we see the invisible jet. It is very small compared to the vastness of SPACE!!!

Page 4 and 5 - another double page spread. Wow!! I’m so creative. This also shows the vastness of SPACE!!! Except that now ALEX is in the centre. They look unbearably hot (details unimportant). To the lower left of page 4 the invisible jet has been disrupted as though by a sonic blast. To clarify ALEX is big enough that they could probably pick the jet up in one hand if they wanted to.

Page 6 (three single image strips with the vastness of SPACE in the background)

Panel 1 - FAHs 1 and 4 (I really need to give them names) blast out of the front windshield of the invisible jet

SFX: CRASH

Panel 2: ALEX grabs FAH 3 from the wreck, who is actively firing back at them with their laser vision (to no effect)

Panel 3: CHAD and FAH 2 watch on from the wreckage of the invisible jet, leaping into action (note: I cannot for the life of me remember what chads powers are rn. That is perhaps why he’s not doing much yet).

Page 7

No idea of the formatting, I got bored of vague art direction with no dialogue. It’s going to be a maybe 7 panel layout depicting a the heroes and Alex fighting their way back towards earth. Maybe a second group of heros in the distance. IDK how powerful I should establish Alex to be this early ?? (I’m not changing anything, but pretend this is going to be read by a fresh audience. Information is shared in bits and pieces.) (chants under breath: first draft first draft)

Page 8

Panel 1 - a column up the left side of the page showing a perfectly normal, if slightly industrial apartment building in a nice city

Panel 2 - wide shot! A nice, comfy apartment. One wall has a BDG-style conspiracy theory board, maybe with an old treasure map pinned to it, but otherwise the room in very normal

Panel 3 - mid shot, in an armchair MORGAN is reading a book. They are average looking (details unimportant), and wearing a soft jumper.

Panel 4 - MORGAN takes a sip of tea, and continues to read their book. Perhaps there is a fucked up statue in the background.

SFX: siiiiip

Panel 5 - wide shot of the apartment, from one side ALEX comes through the door loudly, while on the other MORGAN is in their armchair. (Or couch?? Maybe it should be a couch. Or a beanbag chair.)

Page 9

Panel 1 - close up of ALEX walking towards MORGAN

Alex: the heroes foiled my plans and blew up my castle

Panel 2 - MORGAN in their armchair, looking surprised as ALEX continues

Alex: then they chased me into the outer atmosphere! And they know I killed Rebecca the Rebreathable last month

Panel 3 - ALEX sits

Morgan: that’s weird

Alex: no, that’s pretty much the norm

Panel 4 - Morgan and Alex face each other, either in chairs or on a couch

Morgan: really? Because that hasn’t been my experiance at all

Panel 5 (this takes up like, the bottom half of the page). MORGAN talking happily while ALEX looks on in bemused confusion

Morgan: like, when they rescued that person I kidnapped last week they also fixed my toaster and found my car keys and all the pieces to the jigsaw puzzle I dropped last week, and they fixed the electrical issues with the cable car, and the cleaned up my junk draw, and set the timer on my microwave…….

Image fades into the bottom of the page with no hard cutoff, as MORGAN presumably continues on with the list of things the “point-and-click” heroes did.

———

Thanks for reading!! In case you didn’t know, most of the dialogue on page 9 is taken from the original video that started S&D Tier. I’m not sure how many changes will happen between this VERY PRELIMINARY FIRST DRAFT and the actual final comic, but I’m excited! (Yes this is just 9 pages. The next one will be longer. It’s a start.)

[crashedrain]

An art dump because i said so

i just really wanted to throw this onto a wall. like. i needed to or else id never do it so here we go... even if its unfinished and untouched for literal months.

not in chronological order or the best but hey, at least its out here. ehe here we gooo!

This is Aster in his boss battle form. i just wanted an excuse to give him long hair >,<; also i wanted to give him a sorta dark grey to pale gradient of his limbs and stuff with red scales. just stuff that screams evil royalty

Here's my favourite couple, Cyrus Darvish and Zephyr! Zephy is actually a silly clown girl who does gigs, and Cyrus is an aspiring vet that totally is normal and doesnt have any weird quirks ( dubious shapeshifting ahem)

yes i used a reference for this and... this was a quick doodle of the same couple. yeah its unfinished as heck but HEY funny cat bites bf

also, this is a coloured ish version of Cyrus. he used to be an angel, but now i flipped him into just inheriting the powers from his father. and by powers i mean i confiscated his illusions and angel-ness and gave him full fled shapeshifting as i said earlier. its fully worth it, because now cyrus morphs subtly into other hybrids/peeps around him. Think of it as an extreme version of mirroring someone.

yes i do like drawing the PASWG artstyle even if im mid at it.

and then theres this... this art of Storm i spent way too long on. and its not even finished as well, but hey its my most proud of artwork..ish. I gave them doll hands instead of their typical glass prosethtics because... i just didnt know how to draw/colour them (frankly i dont get how rn either still, but hey theres cool fishies in them in his current design!)

This is one of my first pieces i actually attempted to render. im SUPER into superhero and villian stuff, which is what my world(akuma) is based off of. and zero is a hero.. ill admit the colours and the shirt isnt the best but i was never one with the colour. this is Zero, who's lore is so complex due to his natural association with HAIMON. i wanna go in more depth of both of their relationships but zero is a beloved oc that i neglect a bit. :3

theres also erm...

i butchered my poor girl Viola :( so bad.. but these are: Dr lilac, Viola, and Haimon. Two crazy doctors and one caretaker robot for Haimons dumbass. I also used a reference for this but uh,,, couldnt finish it. i did try to add my own stuff (i think? this was so long ago)

very first uhh anatomy practise and ofc it looks not so okie dokie. they look OK but well... yeah. i just wanted to get better at art here (this was semi recent!)

This is what i did today and honestly, i just wanted to slam dunk this all here. this is Murmur memphis, my shameless iruma kun oc because thats a special interest of mine. i just wanted to try a chibi ish style

thanks for listening to my tedtalk and somewhat lengthy documentations. At least i finally dropped the artwork i wanted to :3 ill try to do more (individual) posts... maybe

[charmspoint]

I haven't read the sweet on stuff because I'm allergic to unfinished fics apparently, but I gotta change that 👀👀 I'll be waiting with the otmost patience for gang au installments {that shit is golden} but in the meantime its nice to know there are still Charm fics out there just waiting for me to read them that I can enjoy at my leasure ~~~

Also good luck with all the life stuff! Seems like your finding success in many areas ~

Worry not, Sweet On isn't actually unfinished because it's just a duo of oneshots. They've been 'finished' for years since these are the first satosugu fics I actually wrote and I only opened the series back up because I ended up writing a zine piece that I thought would fit in neatly into the series. They're both standalone little pieces of fluff, like bits of cotton candy.

And god I want to return to Gang au the most rn, I had SO MUCH planned I have a whole doc of things ready to go, brain is just dead in the water. I'm holding on to gang au with bloody fingers I can't let it go. I'm really glad there's people out there interested in it despite how long the whole series is taking, I knew that the prequel in and on itself would be a very hard pitch so I'm immensely grateful <3

Thank you so much!

[elirandom]

20 questions for fic writers

stolen from @lamardeuse back in 2023 and languishing in my drafts forever

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

39

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

124,445

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Right now I'm adding notes to a possible Soapghost fic, I've ideas for an H50 fic I never know if it'll see the light of day, and bits and pieces of unfinished things in every fandom I ever been in i think.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

I've yet to be the king of my castle (911, Buck/Tommy)

On this road I'm crawling (H50, McDanno)

Cause I keep runnin' from my heart (H50, McDanno)

I want to hurry home to you (NCIS LA, Sam/Callen)

Playing favourites (Torchwood, Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones/Gwen Cooper)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Of course! Why? Because it's fun, I might be late replying because of handwave everything in my life rn

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

An old Torchwood, Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones, MCD fic; As I die (Reaping through the truth, Life becomes untrue)

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Difficult question, but possibly Cause I keep runnin' from my heart.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Lol no. I'm not the type of writer people get up in arms about, I'm the casual read when you're scrolling a tag

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I'm so tame these days I hardly reach the Explicit rating. But there's bdsm, blood play etc back there since I used to write Spike/Angel and Riddick AUs.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I've a couple I think, the one I remember is Torchwood/Angel the series.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Doubt it

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Once! That was so cool actually.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yeah, nothing saved but back in Livejournal days and before that on message boards rooms, kinda like discord.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Writing wise I think Spike/Angel, it used to be so easy to write a ficlet here and there. They've got such massive shared history to dig into.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

The Dom/Brian werewolf AU. There's also a Spike/Angel that's nearly finished and something gets stuck every time I try and finish it. But hey, I finished my NCIS LA fic series, it only took me 10+ years so who knows. I just need my brain back, there's too much in ny life rn.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Character's voices? I have no idea but that's how every story starts in my head, these dialogues that I then have to build around which isn't my strong suit. But just cause I feel like I've got their voices right doesn't mean they ring true in someone's else's ears.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Plotting and research. The overarching idea for a giant plot always falls apart on the nitty gritty for me. Either I lose momentum and start hating the story, or the nitty gritty becomes like reading a factual add-on. And research stumps me because see previous, I've a hard time picking out what the reader's need to follow along the story and not take them out of the story with too many facts.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I don't know if I ever have?

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Pitch Black I think. Or Angel/Spike.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

I still think the old SGA McShep ficlets Rainy days/When the rain lets up but that could be because it was such good fun to be apart of that fandom and I remember enjoying writing that.