#shadow wizard adjacent

[shadowwizdaily]

The Shadow Wizard of the Day is Lyle from Look Outside!

[belovedenzo]

you've got everything now // draco malfoy

summary; Everyone loves Lorenzo more than Draco- including the one he loves most, you.

warnings; none- this is just angst. cussing ig?

words; 1.2k

notes; just a small angsty drabble I made. may make a spin off smut. enjoy ! <3

taglist; @shyamanuensis @riddlesbunny @redeemingvillains @nottsamor @nottsbaby @nottsluvv @nottsangel @riddleswhcre @enzosbabyangel @enzoberkshiresonly-deactivated2 @nottslove @nemesyaaa @obsessedwithceleste @prythiansprincess @anawritez-posts @riddlesrizzler @hayleyppisawesome @malfoysanctuary @viperify @draco-malfoys-lovergirl just tagging blogs I really like, plz lmk if u want me to remove you!

Living in the shadow of Lorenzo Berkshire isn’t easy- it’s harrowing. Draco believe’s it to be a curse, one of the worst he could even imagine. Adjacent to that of the cruciatus curse.

 The way his cousin talks over every person he’s ever had a conversation with makes his blood boil. The way his cousin aces all of his tests but has never even looked inside of a study book makes his head hurt. The way his cousin always takes the last bit of mash potatoes at dinner makes his very last nerve wish to snap like a twig. Really, anything he does as of late pisses Draco the fuck off. Saddest part is- it hasn’t always been this way. 

 In fact, as children Draco loved Lorenzo. He was more than just the favorite cousin- he was the only kid his age that he had to interact with until they were shipped off to Hogwarts. Without him- his family was nothing but a dejected husk, filled with dried up adults with no dreams or aspirations. Sometimes Draco questions if that’s the only thing holding them together… the fact that for a long time- Lorenzo Berkshire was actually all he had.

 Draco always knew that him and the brunette had differences- virtually they were nothing alike I fear. However, time slowly opened his eyes to understand exactly how different the two were. It started with his mother constantly admiring her nephew’s deep amber eyes, commenting on how he got the sweetest eyes in the family. But yet, Narcissa seemed apathetic towards her own son’s hollow blue eyes- they must have just not been as beautiful to her. 

 Lorenzo seemed to grow faster too. His legs sprouted like wild weeds- this impressed any member of the family. Yearly dinners always came guaranteed with compliments for Lorenzo but none for Draco. He couldn’t count on every limb he owned how many times he’d heard his aunts gasp of approval- but never in his direction… always Lorenzo’s.

 He was hopeful once he heard the school they were going to would be large. ‘One of the largest in all of the wizarding world’ they said. This would be new territory, an opportunity to find validation elsewhere. 

 Inevitably, even in a place that large- Lorenzo charmed his way around it and much faster than Draco ever could.

 Before he knew it his cousin was making friends in every house- and the girl’s- merlin, the girls. By year five everyone either wanted or wanted to be Lorenzo Berkshire. Where was Draco in the midst of all this? Lorenzo’s shadow of course. The dark presence that seemed to loom over the boys shoulder wasn’t a curse- it was in fact just Draco Malfoy. 

  Everyone knew of Malfoy but never for the reasons he needed. “Draco Malfoy? Oh you mean that blonde sod? Isn’t that Enzo Berk’s cousin?-“ 

 Over time these comments stopped hurting as much. One does simply get used to their surroundings and this was no different for Draco. In fact, at some point he could have even said he didn’t care. That was until Lorenzo got his first girlfriend- you. 

 You and Draco had been close mates since the first day you both joined Hogwarts. He may have seemed cold at first but it didn’t long for the blonde to warm up to you. You became the hot fire in his belly that kept him sympathetic and kind. He simply loves everything about you- the way your hair shines against the stained glass that covers the way towards the astronomy tower. The way your voice rings and laugh vibrates against the walls of a previously dull reality of his- simply the most beautiful. 

 He had never anticipated that his dear cousin Lorenzo would take notice to all of these attributes just as he did… but he did. Just like Lorenzo always tends to do, he sunk his teeth into you. He seems to sink his teeth into everything Draco holds dear and wants the most. His dear cousin reminds him of a moth in this way- boring his holes into anything that has any sort of value to Draco. 

  The worst part is- he can tell you still love him. You just love Lorenzo… more- just like everyone else does. 

  Lorenzo’s hand hovers just above the small of your back, rubbing circles into the skin with his pointer finger. Seraphic rings of laughter echo against the walls of the common room, even though he’s told that same mind numbing joke five times this week. Draco still doesn’t get the joke. 

 He watches from afar, like he always prefers to. He’s afraid that if he sits too close, you my hear his low graveling at your boyfriend’s attempts of being humorous. He listens in on your conversation and studies your reactions with the side of his eye- a nasty habit he has accumulated over the last few months of your new relationship.  

 “Y’know, maybe if Snape payed less attention to how little I pay attention- he’d have enough time to finish his lesson. Problem solved!” This made your pretty little eyes roll into the back of your head, hand reaching to slap the boys shoulder. 

 “Or you could just pay attention.” You respond in a sardonic tone after some light swatting. Your responses never fail to amuse him- wishing that were him you were speaking to. 

 With this, you had both began to make your way out of the common room with Lorenzo to merlin knows where. Draco wasn’t even surprised as you both passed him, absentmindedly, with nothing more than a silent wave goodbye from your boyfriend. What shocked him was your quick retreat after a few seconds of disappearing. “Oh! Draco! See you at lunch, yeah?” Your voice was so soft and genuine. Even if it was too late, you still remembered he existed. The soft arm you threw over his shoulder burned against the fabric of his jacket all the way down below to his skin. The scent of your perfume graces his nose as you turn and leave him there once more.

 “Yeah.” You probably didn’t even register him as you had already enveloped yourself back in Lorenzo’s arms, starting for the door again. 

 The silence was deafening- somehow blinding. The common room suddenly felt so desolate but arguably less grueling than sitting and watching you adore the one he envied most. 

 His eyes slowly trail back to the book in front of him, now having nothing more to gawk at than the novel sitting in his lap. A sigh escapes his lips, voice barley above a whisper as he speaks to no body but himself. 

“Well… you’ve got everything, now Lorenzo.”

///love, spell

[khywren]

❛ pairing: Astarion/f!Tav; Astarion/f!OC (Ysera) ❛ word count: 4.8k ┊ ❛ rating: 18+ MDNI ❛ tags/cw: pegging, submissive Astarion, rough sex, handjobs, rimming

‣ preview: Ysera swallows thickly, her heart stuttering in her chest. Astarion's eyes blaze with curious delight as he pretends to wait patiently for her response. She bites her lip, eyes darting around the room as if someone somewhere might overhear her if she speaks too loudly. So she leans in close to Astarion's ear and sheepishly whispers it to him instead.

“I want to know how it feels to be inside you.”

AO3 ┊ series masterlist

Ysera sneezes loudly, stirring up a cloud of dust motes. The old wizard’s tower they've found themselves in has been empty of any real treasure – not unless they count the dust, which is more abundant than anything else here. She and Astarion have made it to the top with barely anything to show for it but wasted time.

Ysera sighs heavily as she reaches for a worn, leather-bound book in the middle of an oak table, staring curiously at the cover. It has no title, but the golden embossed design of two elves engaged in a display of passionate lovemaking tells her enough about its contents. She chances a glance over her shoulder to ensure Astarion isn't looking and peeks inside.

The first several pages chronicle the author's fascination with the subject of sexuality and the nature of physical and emotional attraction. There's a passage about the importance of indulging one's own desires, but she scrunches her face and stops reading when the author begins to describe his own exploits in great detail.

“Ugh. No thank you.”

Flipping through the rest of the pages, she sees a catalog of names and details of equally explicit acts, growing more and more flustered as her eyes scan the parchment. She's so absorbed in what she's doing that when Astarion suddenly claps a hand on her shoulder, she lets out a yelp of surprise.

“What have you got there, darling?”

“It's –” she begins, then shakes her head. She's not certain how to describe it – or if she even wants to. “It's weird.” Astarion leans over her shoulder and begins to read. He snorts as he spots a particularly racy entry, then another, and another still, turning page after page to confirm that, yes, this is indeed the entire book.

“You think whoever wrote this watched all these people get it on?” Astarion laughs snidely. “What a freak.”

Ysera mirrors his laugh. “To each their own, I suppose.” She tries to close the book but finds that it suddenly won't budge, almost as if phantom hands have pried it open. A faint magical aura envelopes the pages, which begin to turn of their own accord, faster and faster before they're both staring at a completely blank page near the back of the book.

Try as she might to drop the book, her body refuses to listen to her commands, and even Astarion is helpless to pry it from her hands before a blinding light manifests above the pages and engulfs them completely. The last thing she hears is the sound of her own scream as Astarion grips her tightly.

When she opens her eyes, Ysera expects to see anything but the large, lavish bedchamber they find themselves in. A massive four-poster bed sits against the far wall, the sunlight that spills through an adjacent window casting shadows on the duvet through the canopy. The room smells faintly of lavender and clean linens, adding to the eerie sense of calm that fills the space and makes it far more intimate, especially considering its size.

Astarion and Ysera exchange curious glances.

“Where in the hells are we?” Astarion says, eyes narrowed suspiciously as he scans the room for any signs of danger. They appear to be the only ones here, no obvious traps or intruders lying in wait.

Ysera shrugs, equally as baffled. “I think that book sucked us up,” she hypothesizes, scowling when Astarion snickers.

“Your words, darling, not mine.” 

He turns away to investigate. The only door in the room is sealed shut, no amount of force making it budge even slightly. There are no keyholes for him to pick the lock, and he gives up on that fruitless endeavor with a sigh as he turns back to see if Ysera has had any more luck.

She's standing beside the bed, gazing out the window and illuminated by a beam of buttery golden sunlight. Birdsong fills the air, and she glances at him over her shoulder.

“I wish you could see this,” she says softly. “Wherever this is, it's beautiful.”

Astarion approaches her anyway, unable to see much without stepping into the sun. His curiosity gets the better of him, and he arches his back, standing on his tiptoes to catch just the slightest glimpse of the canyon that sprawls out beneath whatever clifftop this place has been built upon. But he leans just a little too far forward, his stomach lurching as he tumbles forward unexpectedly.

Ysera calls out to him, rushing to catch him. But she's too late, and Astarion stumbles into the sunlight, flinching as the warmth of the sun's rays wash over him. He grits his teeth, anticipating the searing pain he expects to feel… only to be met with the warm caress he remembers fondly from his time spent in the sun before their tadpoles were destroyed.

Time stands still as Astarion glances at Ysera, his pale skin almost glittering in the light. He hears her gasp in shock.

“It must be enchanted,” she says. “This whole place is some sort of illusion.”

“It certainly feels real,” Astarion murmurs. He straightens and slips his cloak off his shoulders, basking in the magicked sunlight. Palms upturned, he lets the warmth seep into his bones, banishing the natural chill of his undead body. Ysera smiles at him fondly, her golden eyes sparkling.

“I wish we could stay,” she says glumly. She had almost forgotten how incredible he looks in the sun.

“Careful what you wish for,” Astarion says dourly. “I don't think this book is keen on letting us leave any time soon.”

Ysera frowns, holding a hand to her mouth in thought as her brow creases. “There has to be something we're missing,” she says. “You enjoy the sun, I'll keep looking.” 

“Gladly, darling,” Astarion hums happily, laying back on the bed and stretching out like a basking cat. His eyes drift closed as he listens to Ysera rifling through the rest of the room’s contents, searching for any hint that might help them.

After a while, her footsteps become louder as she approaches him once more, and he exhales sharply when Ysera tosses a book onto his stomach. Astarion takes the book in his hands as he sits up, eyes drifting between it and Ysera as he waits for an explanation. 

“Don't you recognize it?” she asks, arms crossed. Astarion gives the book a closer inspection, realizing as soon as he opens it that it's an exact replica of the book they had found in the ruined tower.

“And?” he asks, lifting a brow. “I don't see how this is supposed to get us out of here.”

“Look at the last entry,” she tells him. Astarion does as he's told, flipping through the pages before something catches his eye. Sure enough, at the bottom of one of the pages, he reads the words aloud, scrawled in the same flowing script:

Astarion Ancunín and Ysera Whitlock:

There's nothing written below, and Astarion doesn't even have time to contemplate exactly how the book knows who they are or how their names have mysteriously appeared on the page before Ysera shifts on her feet and says, “You get it, don't you?”

Astarion stares up at her and shakes his head, waiting for her to continue.

“This book is like… some weird record of all those people's deepest desires, right? What if they were trapped here, just like us?” Her face grows red, and she stammers, “What if it wants us to, you know… add our own? That would explain this fancy room. The windows and doors are all sealed. I don't know how else we're supposed to get out.”

Astarion slams the book shut and tosses it on the bed beside him, huffing a wry laugh.

“Trapped in a lecherous old book… Wonderful. Now I've certainly seen everything.” He runs his hand through his hair and pinches the bridge of his nose, considering her suggestion. It does make sense, of course, once he looks past the bizarre notion of it all. It's not too far out of the realm of possibility, he supposes. He's seen his fair share of strange, enchanted tomes, but at least this one is mostly benign, provided Ysera's assumption is correct.

“All right,” he says, shrugging. They're stuck here anyway; might as well enjoy themselves in the meantime. “But there's just one problem, darling: we've done practically everything there is to do with one another.”

Ysera grows even redder, the blazing heat in her face spreading down her neck and beneath her robes. Astarion assumes she's simply remembering all the nights they've spent tangled up in one another, but it surprises him completely when she says instead: “Not everything. There's… there's something I'd still like to try, actually.” Her tail flicks two and fro behind her the way it always does when she's feeling anxious.

A wicked grin spreads across Astarion's face, and he eagerly gets to his feet and crosses the short distance between them. He leans close, purposely making Ysera squirm with embarrassment as he tries to guess exactly what it is she's thinking of.

She's adventurous enough in bed, to be sure, but she typically prefers more standard methods of lovemaking. Whatever this is must truly be something scandalous if it's getting her this worked up just thinking about it.

“Do tell,” he purrs, tipping her face up with a single elongated finger.

Ysera swallows thickly, her heart stuttering in her chest. Astarion's eyes blaze with curious delight as he pretends to wait patiently for her response. She bites her lip, eyes darting around the room as if someone somewhere might overhear her if she speaks too loudly. So she leans in close to Astarion's ear and sheepishly whispers it to him instead.

“I want to know how it feels to be inside you.”

Astarion's cock twitches immediately in response, already straining against his laces. Her suggestion ignites something primal deep inside him. He's been penetrated before, of course, but never by her. Never with a partner he actually wanted to be with. It hadn't crossed his mind before, but now he can't stop himself from thinking about it, about her pressed against his back as she thrusts inside him, being the one to hold him down as he writhes beneath her. Surrendering control to the person he trusts most of all. 

An exhilarating proposition, to say the least.

“My, my…” Astarion says slyly, “who knew you were harboring such wicked little fantasies all this time?” He smirks at her through his fangs, unable to conceal the hungry way his eyes rove over her body. Ysera seems to notice how eager her suggestion has made him, if the erratic racing of her heart is any indication.

There is, of course, one small caveat they've yet to address.

“I'm curious to know how you plan to accomplish that without a cock,” Astarion says as he tips his head to the side, studying her. “Not unless you've been very, very good at keeping that little secret to yourself all this time.”

Ysera laughs – almost confidently, none of her apparent nervousness lingering in her expression now that Astarion seems more than open to the idea of letting her fuck him.

“Oh, no,” she says, flashing him a smile as her lips quirk upward. “I have a spell for that.”

So she's been thinking about this for a while. Gods. His cock is almost painfully hard, and he wants nothing more than to rip his clothes off and let her ravish him.

Ysera elaborates further – much to Astarion's dismay, although he supposes he's curious to know exactly where she learned such a trick. He'd swear she was doing it on purpose just to torment him if he didn't know her any better.

“There's a spell for everything, if you know where to look. You know how I've been visiting Gale in Waterdeep, from time to time?” Her eyes narrow to match the mischievous grin that spreads across her face. In a hushed whisper, she says, “His private library has quite an array of books on all sorts of… interesting subjects.”

Astarion groans and finally pulls her into his arms, exceptionally tired of not being able to feel the curves of her body pressed against him. She feels his erection now, brows lifting as he bends down to kiss her firmly on the lips. He bites her lower lip with his blunted teeth and growls, “Remind me to thank that wizard the next time I see him.”

Within moments, the two of them have shed their clothing, tossing it into a pile behind them. They're both far too eager to deny themselves much longer, an unspoken understanding of their mutual desire for one another.

Astarion watches with rapt attention as Ysera casts her spell. The ease with which she speaks the incantation and the precise movements of her hands are enough of an indication that she's practiced this before, and he wonders just how far she's taken it. A faint aura glows between her legs, tracing the outline of the thick, heavy cock that soon materializes in its wake. It's clearly magicked, translucent and resembling one of her Mage Hand spells, but the way it bobs and sways as convincingly as his own makes his mouth water.

Astarion wets his lips and steps towards her.

“Does it –?” He tries. “I mean, can you feel it?”

“Mhmm,” Ysera hums pleasantly. “I only tried it out before to make sure the spell worked. I wanted to save the rest for you.”

Oh. By the gods, she spoils him.

His hand hovers over her cock, and he looks into her eyes. “Can I?” he rasps.

“Yes. Please.”

Ysera's breath catches when Astarion wraps his hand around her cock; it feels real enough, firm and slightly warm in his palm as he strokes it slowly, watching the way her face contorts as she holds back a moan. He clearly knows what he's doing, brushing his thumb over the slit on the upstroke, squeezing gently before he glides his hand back down to the base above her pubic bone where it molds to the shape of her body.

With its weight still in his palm, Astarion's fingers dip curiously beneath Ysera's legs, and he groans when he finds her wet and wanting, her slick folds dripping with arousal as the cock in his hand throbs and twitches.

“Hmm, what have we here?” He glides his fingers across her opening and teases her clit, using his spare hand to fist her cock and work her there as well.

“Astarion.” The effect he has on her is evident in the wanton way she moans and rocks her hips into his hand, electric pleasure singing through her veins. She doesn't know if she can come like this, how closely the spell imitates a real cock, but her legs begin to buckle and she doesn't know how much longer she can last if he keeps this up. 

She's used to him touching her, is familiar with how that feels, but this is something altogether unexpected. Her cunt clenches around nothing, arousal dripping obscenely down her thighs. Astarion reluctantly releases her, and she lets out a sigh, both out of relief and disappointment.

“I’m supposed to be the one pleasuring you, remember?” she pants breathlessly. She inclines her head towards the bed, still bathed in radiant sunlight. “Get on the bed. On your knees.” Astarion needs no further encouragement.

The plush mattress sinks beneath both of their bodies as Ysera makes herself comfortable behind Astarion, who's propped himself up on his hands and knees and lifted his hips towards her. His own cock hangs between his legs, hard and leaking. He looks remarkably handsome, swathed in the light, skin awash with warmth. 

If he's nervous, nothing in the way he looks at her suggests anything other than his eagerness to have her. His eyes are round and curious, lips curved in a small smile.

Before Astarion can ask if she's still certain about proceeding, Ysera places her hands on either side of his ass and delicately spreads him open. He arches his back beautifully, as if on instinct, breath hitching as she kneads his flesh between her palms and gives him a gentle smack with her hand. Astarion shakes his hips to taunt her, but he gets more than he bargained for when she nips him playfully, leaving the impression of her teeth in his skin.

“Why, you cheeky little –”

“I'm sorry, would you prefer my mouth somewhere else?” Ysera asks. “Perhaps this will be more to your liking.” 

She bends to flick her tongue against his hole, swirling it experimentally. Astarion groans wantonly at the first pass of her tongue, warm and wet as she laves it against his sensitive rim. Encouraged by his reaction, Ysera continues to tease him with alternating pressure, using the tip and the flat of her tongue to coax more breathy moans from him. She loves the way he convulses beneath her, completely at her mercy. 

It's not about having power over him, but the ability to make him gasp and plead for more as he forgets anything that isn't her, her, her. Nothing matters now but his pleasure.

“Ysera, darling,” he pants, fists bunched in the sheets. It feels good, better even than he had expected it would. Has she done this before? When she presses her tongue against the tight ring of muscle, his hips buck and he flutters open for her, teeth clenched as he begins to tremble. She uses the opportunity to slip her tongue inside, exploring and tasting him. A low groan rumbles in her throat as she feels his cock jump when she sweeps over a particularly sensitive place. She does it again, and Astarion trembles like brittle a leaf in the wind.

They both know they will be doing this again – often, if Astarion has any say in the matter.

“Please,” Astarion whimpers. His voice is small. Needy. Desperate in a way she's never heard him before. “I need you. Inside.”

Ysera releases him, gathering the arousal between her slick folds and spreading it over her cock, shuddering at the sensation that rips through her body. She adjusts herself behind Astarion, opening him to her once again as she presses the tip of her hard length against his rim and pushes forward. 

He's tighter than she expected, so she moves slowly, pulling out and pushing back in as she works him open with shallow thrusts. But she's slick enough, and whatever pain he feels is quickly overwhelmed by the pleasure and the newness of her inside of him. It's been far, far too long since he's been in this position. Astarion's walls clamp down around her cock and they both let out a strangled cry, but when Ysera stops moving Astarion begs her to continue.

“My love,” he struggles through gritted teeth. “Don't stop. I need more of you.” Ysera shushes him and slips a hand into his hair, stroking softly. 

“It's all right, Astarion. I'll take care of you. I promise.”

It takes a moment, but once she's fully seated inside him, Astarion exhales a long, drawn-out breath and flexes his fingers. “Ahhh, hold on,” he says, wiggling his hips to adjust around her. “Gods, you feel so good. So, so good. Remind me again why we waited so long to try this?”

“A mistake I am regretting with every passing second,” she admits, huffing a laugh. “You feel good, too.” It takes more effort than she would have initially thought to fight the urge to snap her hips forward and bury herself inside him with quick, needy thrusts. Is this what she feels like when he's inside her? Gods. It's no wonder he often struggles to hold himself back.

“I'm ready,” Astarion says after a time, looking at her over his shoulder. He sounds as though he's about to start begging her for more again, and as much as she would love to hear it, neither of them are in the mood for teasing. Ysera pulls out of him almost completely before rolling her hips forward, and when she glides against his walls with little resistance there's nothing more holding her back.

Hands bracketed on his hips, Ysera surges forward, plunging into him with quick, rough thrusts. His ass bounces every time their bodies collide, and she pushes him into the mattress. Astarion immediately begins to whimper with need, face pressed into the sheets as he loses the will to hold himself up any longer. His arms go slack and he sinks down onto his stomach, balling his fists in the sheets as he gives himself over to pleasure.

“Yes,” he mumbles, voice slurred. “Yes, ‘Sera, yes, yes, feels so – oh …!”

She's never heard him so incoherent before, fuck-drunk, wonderfully pliant beneath her hands, and absolutely breathtaking. His mouth hangs open, revealing his fangs, his eyes straining as he struggles to look at her. There aren't enough words in any language to do justice to the brilliant shades of ruby and carmine she sees reflected there. Ysera commits the image to memory, determined to remember every single second she has him beneath her.

The sunlight is warm on Astarion's skin, but its heat pales in comparison to the raging inferno growing inside him, the way Ysera's hands leave a path of searing heat down the curve of his spine. Her hands linger on his hips when she reaches them again, struggling to hold onto his sweat-slicked body as she thrusts and thrusts and thrusts. She is both gentle and rough at the same time, reducing him to a babbling mess as he tries to tell her how wonderful she is. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knows the words don't quite come out right, but she smiles at him anyway.

Ysera's muscles ache with a delicious soreness, and as it becomes increasingly difficult to hold him up, her thrusts begin to falter and her rhythm breaks.

“Astarion,” she pants, sweat beading on her forehead and dripping into the hollow of her throat. “I want… to see your face, want to see you when you come.”

“Yes,” he answers immediately, almost as if he was anticipating the question. “Anything, anything. Oh, please, make me come.”

Ysera pulls her cock out of him just as long as it takes to help him roll over onto his back, shoving a pillow beneath his hips to prop him up. He's much easier to manage this way, some of her waning strength returning as she takes in the sight of him: hair disheveled, mouth agape, and utterly ruined. His cock hangs heavy against his thigh, flushed pink and weeping.

Hooking her hands under his bent knees and pressing his legs back towards his chest, she wastes no time folding him in half and slipping back inside his slick hole, pounding into him with enough force to tear a keening whine from his throat. She watches the way his expression changes with each roll of her hips, his jaw falling slack before clenching again when she hits a particularly sensitive spot deep inside of him. Memorizing the angle, she does it again and again, coaxing a series of broken, strangled cries from his lips.

He tries so hard to speak, but the words fall through his brain like water through a sieve. Within seconds he can no longer recall what it was he was even going to say or why it was important in the first place. It feels so good to give himself to her like this, to let her dictate his pleasure. He doesn't need to think – he only needs to feel . And by the gods, does he feel. Every caress of her hands on his skin, every inch of her cock as she thrusts inside him; every sweet nothing she murmurs to encourage him – he's already madly in love with her, but if he could fall for her all over again this would be the moment.

Astarion’s mouth falls open with a guttural moan when she lets go of one of his legs to wrap a hand around his neglected cock, slick with so much precome that she finds an easy rhythm, pumping him in time with each of her punishing thrusts. She works him diligently closer to the edge, pride surging through her when she notices the telltale signs of his impending climax. His thighs quake and his hips jerk every so often, the promise of an earth-shattering orgasm so close on the horizon.

Astarion wrenches his eyes open to find Ysera leaning over him, her face almost close enough to kiss. His body feels too light and too heavy all at once, floating in some nebulous void. But he somehow manages to reach out to cup her cheek, his quiet moans of “ah, ah, ah…” tickling her skin as his cool breath ghosts across her face. He loses himself in her golden eyes, the way she looks at him enough to make his heart ache. If it still beat, it would be racing.

Hells, he swears it just might be.

“That's it,” Ysera encourages him, her voice wavering as his walls pulse and contract tightly around her cock. “You're close, aren't you?” Astarion breathes something that sounds like “yes,” and she bends down to kiss him. The kiss is slow and purposeful, tender where the rest of her is rough and primal. Her lips coax his mouth open and he kisses her back, whining in protest the moment she pulls away.

“You've been so good for me, Astarion,” she murmurs in his ear, borrowing the same words that have unraveled her on so many occasions. Watching the effect it has on him is intoxicating; how he whimpers and writhes, hips bucking as he fucks desperately into her hand.

“You can come now, it's okay. I've got you.”

Yes. Yes, he can, he can and he will, he just needs her to –

His vision goes blank as white-hot pleasure rips through his body and he comes harder than he ever has before, painting her hand and his stomach with thick ropes of white. The sheer force of his orgasm is too much for her to bear, her hips stuttering violently as her toes curl and she comes just as hard for him. The last thread of her concentration on the spell snaps like a taut bowstring and Astarion feels suddenly empty as her cock blinks out of existence, mourning the loss of her. Ysera tumbles forward and collapses onto his chest, panting heavily and breathing in the scent of him.

Astarion folds his arms around her with what strength he has left and holds her against his chest. His body is so warm, and she melts into his embrace. Neither of them have enough energy to speak. Ysera props herself up on an elbow after a while, the curtain of her hair falling over her shoulder as she looks down at him. She smiles fondly before rubbing her nose against his. Astarion sighs, satisfied and thoroughly pleased with the outcome of their little experiment.

What feels like several hours later, the bedchamber creaks and groans as the walls begin to shake, rousing them both from their sleep. Ysera lifts her head groggily, wincing as her limbs protest her sudden movements. The same blinding light that transported them here engulfs the room, and the next time they open their eyes they're standing inside the abandoned tower as if they'd been there all along, the book still clasped between Ysera's open hands.

Ysera flicks her gaze questioningly to Astarion, but the soreness of their muscles and the weary sort of exhaustion they both feel confirms that whatever happened was most certainly more than a very vivid hallucination. Beneath their names on the final page, the book has written for itself a rather detailed passage about their exploits, and Ysera closes it with as much force as she can muster before throwing it clear across the room. Her cheeks burn a bright pink. The only thing that had stopped her from ripping out the page was the thought that a book powerful enough to transport them to an alternate reality might not take too kindly to being defaced, and she's not keen on finding out what else it might be capable of.

“We should go before anything else happens,” she says in a clipped tone, spinning on her heel and marching towards the nearest exit. Astarion's hand shoots out to grab her by the wrist, and when he pulls her back and convinces her to look at him, she finds a wolfish grin has overtaken his face.

“Oh no,” he purrs, slipping his arms around her back and caging her against his body. “Not so fast. This little library of Gale's you mentioned before… does he know you've been browsing those sorts of books?”

Ysera blanches, and the way her heart skips a beat gives her away immediately. “I thought as much,” Astarion says conspiratorially. “I'll tell you what, my dear: show me the other little tricks you've learned, and I promise your secret stays with me.”

Even after she twists out of his arms and storms off down the stairs to hide her embarrassment, his laughter still rings in her ears.

[oathkeeper-of-tarth]

One really tiny but really flavourful detail in BG3 for me is one of the steps in the "Find the Nightsong" quest. The quest in itself is a big fave of mine, not just because of its buildup and dramatic twist and the fact that it deals with my personal favourite character, but also because of the way it winds through all three acts of this immense game. Here, though, I want to highlight a small and relatively early portion of it.

Initially, when you are sent after the mysterious and much sought-after relic called the Nightsong - classic adventurer stuff, really, there's even a wizard in a tower who'll pay you for it - all you have to go on are rumours that it is hidden in an old Selûnite temple in the region you happened to crash in. And sure enough, you explore the cool temple ruins, maybe you do a little puzzle-solving to open a sealed moon-themed door leading to a passage deep below - or you get into the Underdark via one of the other routes available. In any case, once there, you find the tragically doomed underground outpost some of the temple's residents tried to establish, as well as several records of their final hours. But there are no signs of the Nightsong or anything related to it ever being there at all. At that point you have no more info to go on, and your quest journal updates to say so:

Explore the Underdark. The trail goes cold in the Underdark. Where is the Nightsong?

Except... there is something here. And that something is a book - not an ancient record, but a recent publication: This tome appears fairly new-printed; it can't be more than a decade or two old, the item description says. But above all, it is very conspicuously and prominently placed at the foot of the large statue of Selûne that dominates the remnants of the outpost (and that, as part of its defenses, shoots rather deadly magical moonlight beams until you disable it).

The book is called "In Search of the Nightsong". It is marked as a quest item and it is there purely to provide you with a lead and to bridge the gap until the next bit of insight into the Nightsong you will get (which is at this point probably quite a ways away in Act 2, other than the possible tidbit around Nere and the collapsed bridge as you approach one possible end of Act 1). You are absolutely meant to find it and read it.

Fascinating that such a seemingly valuable object has proven so difficult to track down. Indeed, treasure-hunters the realm over have travelled to the Sword Coast with one goal in mind: To find the Nightsong. Yet each by each they have failed, indicating dead ends, rebuffs, or else disappearing altogether. My latest enquiry was with a half-orc named Graly, who insisted he'd come as close as possible to the relic as one may go without forfeiting his or her life. He indicated that the object is not, as most reports indicate, in the Selûnite fort adjacent to the river Chionthar. It is, in fact, held in an old Sharran fortress somewhere in the environs of Moonrise Towers. However, Graly reported that some kind of potent shadow prevents one from approaching where this fortress might be.

In fact, your next quest journal update comes from going into your inventory and reading the book:

Find the Sharran Temple. We found a book that told of a secret Sharran temple that contains the Nightsong. It is hidden underground, somewhere near Moonrise Towers.

How did this recently-published book end up sitting there, just waiting for you to read it, in the sealed, long-abandoned outpost, beset on all sides by unfriendly crowds of goblins, drow, minotaurs, a spectator, you name it? And why is this cool to me? Well, it's a bit meta, but it turns out that Selûne, She Who Guides, goddess of, among other things, questers, seekers, navigators, and the lost finding their path, has more than earned her title. And indeed, here we see that both in gameplay and in lore, Selûne guides.

In this particular case, though you don't know that yet, she's guiding you, both the character and the player, to hopefully save her long-lost daughter.

[dragon-curse-au]

Been thinking about different cookie species within the AU and their differences/similarities a bunch lately, so I figured I'd share some cool facts!

While humanoid is the most common appearance a cookie can take, there are several subspecies across Earthbread that take on more animalistic traits, some ranging from minor details such as pointed ears and fangs to being a full-on centaur. It's how modern day dragons blend in amongst cookies in their smaller forms, given that reptilian cookies like Carameleon exist.

Coffee cookies will be the most prominent ones you'll see in this AU and they share many traits with other cookie species, such as flower cookies and moon imps. They're relatively humanoid with cat-like features, such as large pointed ears, fur patches, paws, thin tails, and slitted pupils, though not many of them remain from the original tribe in the Dark Cacao Kingdom. In fact, the only coffee cookies that remain to this day happen to be hybrids. Espresso and Affogato are siblings and are part cream wolf, though they present more coffee cookie than cream wolf - Affogato having thicker fur than Espresso an easier tell. Prune Juice is also half coffee cookie, though his other half is Parfaedian, which gives him less animal traits than others.

Coffee cookies are well known for their expertise and prowess with their own unique form of magic, but Prune Juice was born with that trait dormant, marking him as a disappointment in his family's eyes. Prune Juice often tries to hide his coffee cookie traits so that others don't view him as a freak.

Every larger region of Earthbread has their own coffee-adjacent cookies. The most well-known are flower cookies, sphinx cookies, and moon imps. Flower cookies are more elf-like in appearance, lacking the fur that coffee cookies have save for the tufts along their jawlines and their tails. Sphinx cookies are the most feline of all, though the only surviving members are Golden Cheese and her daughter, Rich Cheese. Moon imps are also unfortunately nearly completely extinct save for Shadow/Blueberry Milk and Eclipse Wizard. Moon imps used to occupy the City of Wizards and southern Beast Yeast, though evolution either snuffed them out of existence or caused them to evolve into something else.

Moon imps are relatively unique with their digitgrade hooved feet, barbed tails, and pointed ears. Most have horns as well, but there are a few who do not. Their primary flavor is blueberries, though the ones that occupy southern Beast Yeast have more milk in their dough than others.

I want to bring up Clotted Cream and Camellia since they're half flower cookie as well; Light Cream is vanillian while their father was a full-on flower cookie. Clotted Cream passes as purebred vanillian save for hair tufts on the jawline and tail, which he was raised to keep hidden under Elder Custard's orders and was told that they were mere genetic defects. No one can mistake his faint floral scent, however. Camellia is on the opposite end of the spectrum, presenting as a pure flower cookie.

Honorable creature-like cookies would be from the Licorice Tribe (aquatic traits), Spice Swarm (centaurs or almost entirely animal more than cookie), and whatever Mystic Flour is (insectoid).

If you have any questions feel free to ask! I like yapping about this stuff :]c

[sereinegemini]

Two Dark Princes ₊⋆ ☾

— Chapter X

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader x Theodore Nott

Word Count: 2k

Summary: Two years after Harry Potter defeated the Dark Lord during the Triwizard Tournament, Hogwarts and most of the Wizarding World has returned to normal. But, F/n’s mundane life is flipped upside down after she learns that two of her best friends, Draco and Theo, are secretly in love with her. When this knowledge begins to affect her relationships, she is faced with difficult decisions, each one laced with promised heartache and the potential to awaken an unexpected darkness.

Warnings: cursing, some lines directly from the movie, hostility, a wee bit spooky

Hogwarts

Monday, May 5, 1997

“Who’s there?” Slughorn’s voice boomed as soon as you all piled into the empty classroom. Knowing it would be suspicious to close the door now, Hermione motioned for everyone to stand against the wall adjacent to the door. It was notched to accommodate built-in bookshelves, and one would have to enter the room to see six students standing there. 

“Are there others, Harry?” His voice strained with his temper. You could understand his hurt; his most valued student was pointing fingers and throwing around the Dark Lord’s name. 

Slughorn stood in the doorway for a moment, his shadow casting long across the floor. You half wanted to hold your breath. Draco wrapped his pinky with yours. Your heart skipped at the touch, but you swallowed the sensation. “Hm, suppose you’re being paranoid Horace,” Slughorn mumbled, finally slipping away and down the hall.

Several of your friends released breaths. “I’ve never seen Slughorn mad before. That was bloody terrifying,” Ron squeaked.

“Come on, let’s catch up with Harry. That was worth a try, but we have to think of a whole new plan now,” Hermione complained, and you all moved to follow her from the room.

Draco grabbed your wrist, and you watched everyone leave before turning to face him. You looked at him expectedly, not saying a word. His eyes were wide, like he’d surprised himself and now wasn’t sure what to say. “F/n..”

“Draco,” you replied softly, a gentle smile on your lips. Things might be awkward between you now, but he was still one of your best friends and you wanted him to know he could speak his mind.

“I– I’m glad to see you doing better. I missed you.” His words were rigid, like he was actively picking and choosing his words. But he didn’t need to spell it out for you, his unspoken sentiments were clear in his eyes. He’d been worried you were gone from him forever. That he’d never see you smile at him or feel your skin against his again.

His thumb trailed across the inside of your wrist, his mouth parting slightly as he watched his own hand like a spectator. Heat rushed to your cheeks at his lowered eyes and you found yourself swallowing hard. This moment was so intimate you almost felt like you were intruding. “Draco,” you whispered again, your head swimming with desire. For the first time in the two weeks since you and Cedric broke up you were craving his lips on yours—craving the passion and heat of his hands on your body. It felt so wrong, but that made you want it all the more.

“Fuck, F/n..” Draco growled, catching the desire in your eyes. Grabbing your waist, he pushed you up against the bookshelves. Your stomach fluttered with the show of dominance, turning to putty in his arms. This isn’t right, a nagging in the back of your mind told you, something’s wrong. But you didn’t want to listen, you only wanted Draco.

A pleading whine escaped your lips when he cupped the back of your neck with a hand, tilting your mouth up to his. He’d just slipped your bottom lip between his teeth when someone cleared their throat in the doorway. You gasped, jerking away from Draco to look at Theo. Only it wasn’t Theo. It was…Draco? How on Earth- You jerked your head back to the Draco holding you. What in Merlin’s beard was going on?

“F/n?” the Draco in front of you asked worriedly.

“Is something the matter? You look as if-” started a new Draco leaned against the desk on the opposite wall.

“-you’ve seen a ghost,” finished the first Draco in a hiss, gripping your chin. The boy in front of you was still your blonde friend, but his eyes had turned an emotionless shade of red.

You gasped and tried to yank your chin away, but he only dug his nails deeper into your skin. Crying out from the sting of your wounds, you stilled as Voldemort’s voice hissed from Draco’s mouth: “Try as you might, you’ll never hide from me, girl.”

“F/n? F/n, what’s wrong? Please, answer me..” Draco begged, tugging at your wrists.

You lowered your hands from your face, blinking as if you’d only just woken up. Book spines dug into you back from where you were sat against the shelves and you groaned achingly when he helped you to your feet. “Draco, what..”

“I was touching your wrist and you whispered my name and then you just…slumped to the floor. At first I thought you’d fainted or something but you had your hands over your face and you kept whimpering. Like something was hurting you. And-” He lifted a thumb to your chin, making you flinch. “You have little cuts on your face now. They’re crescent shaped, like-”

“Finger nails,” you croaked.

“Yeah.” He let his arm fall. You stared at each other for a second, dumbfounded.

“I didn’t faint. Draco, I- It felt like I was still here, but then things weren’t right. There were three of you and your eyes were the same as Voldemort’s. I think it was like my dream. He was in my head again. Only this time I was awake.”

Draco’s wide eyes searched your face as if he was looking for any lingering sign of the Dark Lord. “Did he say anything?”

You supposed telling him about your phantom make-out session was pointless and would only bring up emotions that you didn’t want to address right now, so you only said: “He delivered a message. That no matter what I did or how hard I tried to hide, he would always find me.”

· · ─────── · ✧ · ─────── · ·

Harry leaned his forearms on his knees. “I just don’t understand. Why is Voldemort targeting F/n?”

“Question of the century, Potter,” Theo deadpanned. He was lounging on a worn brown-leather sofa, his arms and legs draped over the side and back. The epitome of relaxation, though worry swam in his eyes.

Harry shot him a glare. “I only mean she’s never been around Voldemort. There’s no reason he should even know who she is. When he was targeting me it was because he believed I would be his downfall and he’d already failed to kill me once before. F/n has no ties to him, no prophecies; nothing to offer him.”

Draco shook his head. He was propped up on the arm of your chair, his arms crossed in a disgruntled fashion. Voldemort’s attack on your mind and ability to harm you physically appeared to be his last straw. “We might never know why or how he’s getting into her head. What I do know is that I’m going to do everything I can to keep him away.” He looked down at you and grabbed your hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. “You’re going to ask Dumbledore about those Occlumency lessons. And when you’re not in class or eating, you and I are going to continue our own training. Voldemort isn’t going to hurt you again. Not if I can help it.”

Theo rolled his eyes. “Alright, Prince Charming. What should the rest of us do?”

“We should definitely start by getting that memory from Slughorn. It seems like a decent start and if I’m being honest I think it’s our only choice,” Hermione answered.

You tuned out their voices while they discussed ways to possibly get the Professor to cooperate. How had you gotten into this mess? Voldemort was supposed to be gone and you had nothing to link you, as Harry had said. Perhaps this was all simply your punishment for being selfish. Whatever God or Goddess was in charge of karma was delivering your due.

Sulking into your chair, you simmered in your self pity and surveyed the room. The Room of Requirements had taken up the form of a moody sitting room. Two identical leather sofas sat across from one another in the middle of the space, separated by a dark, rectangular coffee table with curved legs. Your own chair had a twin—one on either side of the flickering fire. The spot above the mantel caught your attention—the dark paint was slightly lighter there, as if a picture had once been hung and was now missing. It was odd. Wasn’t the Room designed to its pursuer’s needs? Why would there be indication of something missing if the space hadn’t previously existed?

“Dray-” you began, but paused when you caught Theo staring at you. He lowered his lashes, then returned his attention to the discussion. Your face warmed with a blush. How long had he watched you for?

“Everything okay, L/n?” Draco asked, leaning closer.

When you turned towards him you discovered his face a breath away from yours. You swallowed hard and tried your best not to shy away from his presence. “Y- Yeah I’m fine. I just thought it looked as if a painting was missing from the mantel.”

He scrunched his brows at the mentioned wall, then gave you a sly smile. “It seems that way, doesn’t it? Think the Room was having a bit of fun? To see if any of us noticed?”

You snorted quietly. “The Room isn’t alive. It’s just animated with magic, right?”

Draco grinned, his eyes dropping to your lips briefly before jumping back up. “Well, maybe someone’s used this room before and took the picture, or they were hiding it here.”

Your heart fluttered. He could look at you like that a million times—like he was under the influence of a love potion and could think of nothing but you—and your heart would flutter from the intensity of it every time.

“Maybe,” you said breathlessly.

“Alright, it’s decided, then,” Harry announced, standing and retrieving a vial from his robes. “I need to have another talk with Professor Slughorn.”

“What’s that?” you asked as he uncorked the potion. A molten gold droplet leapt from the opening before falling perfectly back down with a tiny plonk.

“Felix Felicis. A good fortune potion Harry won for brewing a perfect Draught of Living Death. Even though he cheated.” Hermione explained, rolling her eyes at Harry’s rule-breaking.

“For the last time ‘Mione, it’s not my fault my textbook has notes in it.”

“It’s your fault for not turning the book in, Harry!” Hermione countered, exasperated.

He waved her off, and you shared an amused smile with Blaise. Your friend groups were a lot more alike than you’d thought. Even the Golden Trio bickered with one another, but their love stayed clear to anyone watching. “I was lucky to have help winning it, and I’m lucky to have it now. A bit of luck might be the only way Slughorn will hand over that memory.”

“Go on then, mate,” Ron said.

Harry tipped his head back and drained the entire bottle. 

“Well, how do you feel?” Hermione asked, almost inching off her seat.

He stared off momentarily, a dumb smile dancing on his lips. “Excellent. Really Excellent!” You and Draco quirked a brow at each other. The Liquid Luck seemed to have made Harry even goofier than normal.

Hermione jumped to her feet and blocked Harry from leaving. “Remember, Slughorn usually eats early, takes a walk, and then returns to his office.”

“Right.” He took a deep breath. “I’m going down to Hagrid’s.”

“What-” Hermione asked as Harry brushed past her to the door. “No! Harry, you’ve got to go speak to Slughorn! We have a plan.”

Harry stopped with his hand on the doorknob. “I know, but I’ve got a really good feeling about Hargid’s. I feel it- it’s the place to be tonight. Do you know what I mean?”

“No..” Hermione and Ron—who had come up beside her—said in unison.

“Trust me, I know what I’m doing. Or, Felix does!” And with that he left, the door clicking shut softly behind him.

“That was…interesting,” Theo stated.

“What do we do now?” you asked, darting your gaze between everyone.

Hermione sighed and gathered up her bag. “All we can do is wait. I’m going to the library to get some work done. It could take Harry the rest of the day to obtain that memory.”

Draco nudged you with his arm. “How ‘bout you and I have a little lesson, then?”

« Chapter Nine || Masterlist || Chapter Eleven »

Author’s Note: This chapter is like a year late but we’re going to ignore that okay 😃

Be notified of future chapters!

[txttletale]

hello! from your recent posts abt youtube i was wondering what stuff you like to watch. (:

i mostly don't enjoy Serious Political youtube videos -- the only video essayist i like from that sphere is shaun. despite the flaws i talked about dan olson's videos are also well-written and well-researched, the last three about web3/crypto/finance adjacent scam economies in particular are all really good.

i mostly watch youtube for comedy stuff and more media-oriented video essays about specific shows / films / games / etc. so in those genres i'm a fan of like... wizards with guns, aunty donna, funke, sarah z, jenny nicholson, all of yahtzee croshaw's shows, spice8rack, daniel thrasher, mikasacus, jan misali, jay exci, dathings, rosencreutz, todd in the shadows, yourmoviesucks, essenger, & redlettermedia. off the top of my head. tbh though most of my time on youtube dot com is spent watching snapcube & northernlion stream videos

[cdsillylilyposting]

What is your beef with paladins????

As I live and breath she gave me an idea!

Most paladins are crusader/templar/knights and she fucking HATES them being... servants of... the light

Sure sure, typically as the general understanding of these folks are aberhamic adjacent, having the "ONE TRUE GOD" is an easy thing for preachy preacher paladins to preach and admonish, in the name of the light and all that...

Anyways what if they were polytheistic

You could go with classic roman or greek like the Oath of Glory in d&d 5e Theroes and still overall keep the idea of this divine warrior (emphasis on warrior>divine) without being "i serve John Light, Palor, Lathander etc"

You could go with Voodoo/Vodou/Vudú now before you say ANYTHING! Keep them heavily armored, in metal plate armor, dont be fucking racist and give them bone armor or some shit, but much like how a paladin will have something that signifies who they worship (often embossed on armor) do that also, give them their own little quirks and traditions they follow while repping their divine warrior status, now I ain't an expert in it but repping a Lwa or group of, obvious ideas, a paladin of the Gede (expi maybe) who is a scythe wielding grim punisher of evil necromancers or have an expi of Agwé and make an aquaman inspired paladin inspired by the Haitian lwa

You could push for basically any paladin idea; to stick on real world religions for a moment norse adjacent paladins all need eye patches or at least bandage one eye for Odin, fight primarily with hammers for thor, less quams about being underhanded since Odin AND Loki are well and true tricksters maybe they focus a lot on animal husbandry more than other paladins

Fuck it crusade for Horus massive fucking eyes on the center of their armor they can still have the light visual but its more focused on their own ability to see "NONE SHALL ESCAPE MY DIVINE GAZE!!" Type shit maybe an obsession with the afterlife

Religion in question not a proselytizing one?

Sure! Make em a big fuck off member of the churches secret police!

If that feels like its dipping to far into being evil, make them better or even good by using:

The breaker of false practices/circles, classic evil wizard seeks to defame the faith etc etc

Guards of the sacred or even secret order, secret doesnt mean evil, what if the religion genuinely seeks the betterment but their nature is often called to question so they remain in the shadows

Members acting as walking churches that carry the sacred relics of the faith with them for those to pray to <- this is my favorite idea (in this case tho the religion either has a standing doctrine to not settle or is being persecuted)

Have an all but devolved church, members of an old almost lost faith dressed in thick armors roaring to the heavens as they keep to a faith that is quickling fading from memories playing on the edge of almost becoming barbarian tribesmen

Shit you could even go with SITH as a base your faith or god(s) demands its absolute best insisting upon a rule of 2 its greatest warriors, you aren't seeking to convert any but the absolute peak of the kin around you

Anyways yeah just an idea

[shadowwizdaily]

The Shadow Wizard of the Day is Wizardmon from the Digimon series!

[linkedin-corp]

okay heres the timeline/series of events for my "chimera vivian" au <- guy who needs to make a better name for it

ONCE AGAIN WARNING FOR LOOOONG POST! bring popcorn

and yes before you ask i Did write this in a Sort Of. wiki "plot explanation" type of fashion, mainly because i was thinking in the pov of like. if this was actually part of the game. idk why i did that. helps me think about the mechanics of everything more

the au begins once the party reaches the shadow palace , on a seemingly normal path to completion

the party is tired from traversing through the shadow palace once they reach gloomtail

gloomtail is significantly harder, and eats vivian halfway through the fight

the party flees due to this

they take refuge in rogueport once again to try and think of a way to get her back

they find the real frankly still in rogueport, and tell him of what happened

frankly is visibly very stressed and panicked after they tell him this and he digs through multiple books to find useful information; eventually he tells them of a very powerful magician that very briefly mentored the four heros of old, whos tale was lost to time due to the thousand year door story

the party has to find a certain someone who would be willing to take them to a dangerous dungeon that the magician is rumored to live

once they do, they need to do a favor for them so that this person can trust them

once this favor is completed, the guide introduces themself and their own party, who coincidentally wants to visit the magician themselves (though most of the party is more interested in the riches)

after a nice ‘getting to know eachother’ dinner, the next day they head off

meanwhile, the shadow queen awakens due to the time of the doors seal being up

grodus still tries to take control of the shadow queen, but fails

the shadow queen remains within the shadow palace, and plots a way to stop mario before they return with the crystal stars (also spends her time creating many creatures that wreck havoc while the party is away)

the two parties have some trouble along the way, including a handful of very overpowered enemies (as theyve traveled into the untraversed areas of the map, looking for the magician's dungeon)

once they finally find it, the trials inside are sort of like the pit of 100 trials and keelhaul keep combined

the dungeon is huge and full of life, (like the dunmeshi dungeon) they get lost inside a few times due to the secondary party’s leader reading the map wrong accidentally

a huge puzzle lies before the final room of the dungeon, the crystal castle (now abandoned and visibly crumbling)

inside lies a cloaked boss that can shapeshift into previous bosses mario's party has faught; once they defeat it, it reveals itself as the thousand year old magician. (“well done for combining your strengths to defeat me!”)

because they defeated them, the wizard allows them to request anything they want of him. mario tells the wizard they need him to help revive vivian

the wizard only agrees to help if mario acknowledges that revival magic is very fickle, and that it may not work perfectly or as they intend. they agree, as it's their only choice

the party makes the trek back; noticing the enemies in their path have become increasingly more difficult to defeat ; luckily, having the wizard on their side helps tenfold

on the way back, one of the secondary party members gets severely wounded. this forces them to reveal themselves as doopliss. (“beldam .. she was rude, but these guys seemed kind to eachother. i thought i wouldve been able to finally fit in with a powerful group.”) (doopliss wouldve appeared after gloomtail with beldam and marilyn, but because mario’s party did not appear when beldam had expected, he had time to rethink and turn back after beldam was using him as a verbal punching bag)

the entire group returns eventually, moderately unscathed. unfortunately, rogueport and adjacent towns are in ruins because of the shadow queens minions

the secondary party ends up staying in rogueport to help the locals with their infestation problem

mario’s party returns to the thousand year door with the wizard and goes back to gloomtail to defeat him

after they defeat him, they notice vivian isnt being spit out like koops dad

the wizard tries to use the revival spell, but everyone is filled with tension and worry because of the unexpected circumstances

the spell of course backfires, and vivian is revived— only alongside gloomtail as well (chimera time)

just as ‘vivian’ wakes up, the secondary party arrives because their leader got worried for their safety (and surprisingly, they cleaned up rogueport quite quickly)

vivian freaks out, heavily injuring many of them in the process

after a very confusing fight that got pretty much nowhere (as mario’s party didint want to harm vivian), she flees

mario’s party and the secondary party form up and decide to yet again return to rogueport to heal up

mario insists the secondary party stays behind; after much arguments on both sides, they agree

the wizard stays behind to help the secondary party heal as well, as he doesnt want to make any more preventable messes with his rusty work

mario’s party visits frankly to try and get advice on how to turn vivian back

he suggests the only way to do so is by sealing away the shadow queen, as once she is sealed away, all of the shadow palace subjects will be sealed away too

mario asks how will they make sure vivian is safe while also making sure she doesnt kill anyone else

frankly suggests perhaps using the power of a crystal star to do so (“maybe jogging her memory so she can gain control might help!”) (if you feel like doing other stuff at this rate (stuff like mindless quests like the help board n stuff), you can try and help other towns get rid of pests made by the shadow queen— you of course get rewarded for doing this — doing it also makes the shadow queen weaker during the final fight)

mario’s party returns to the shadow palace to try and find vivian (this takes maybe like 30 minutes of going through each room except the ones right before the shadow queen; you follow vivian's footprints) while also trying to avoid the shadow queen and her minions

once they find vivian and corner her, mario shows her the ruby star, which makes her lash out as if she were in immense pain before passing out

it takes her awhile to wake up, but mario’s party stays with her to make sure she gets up

once she does, her memories are retained and shes much calmer now (but can barely speak, only uses hand signs and warbled speech)

almost immediately after vivian wakes, the shadow queen finds them and corners mario’s party, hoping to get rid of them once and for all

due to now having vivian back, the party is able to defeat the shadow queen, and seal her away

once she is finally sealed again, vivian returns to normal (albeit with a few permanent changes)

rollllll credits

most of these details are. not entirely set in stone , obviously, so i might be editing this occasionally or talking about stuff ive changed. obviously i havent figured out the details with the new party or the wizard yet, but i will ! eventually !

i have a vague idea of what the secondary party might consist of for now, so ill be updating on that periodically

[nitewrighter]

Ok, with beast boy’s og costume, you like the mask, hate the red and white color scheme.

Any thoughts on raven’s og look from the 80s? Her normal cloak over an evening gown and pumps. Fashion wise, I think it looks great, but it doesn’t seem to fit her personality wise, not then and definitely not now.

Though I imagine a modern story could call back to it, having her forced to wear the ensemble for a formal event.

Really not a huge fan of the 80's costume. I like the earrings gleaming under the shadow of the hood, but pumps? Really? Though yeah I agree it could be a fun callback in a formal outfit for her.

For me, on a design level, Raven is one of those characters where, I like her so much and she has so much going on that I'm pretty much never satisfied with whatever look they give her. DC Superhero Girls? Ew. Bombshells? Corny and lazy. Injustice? UGLAY. I know with the 03 show, the leotard had a lot of haters, but I honestly liked the leotard--I was in gymnastics as a kid, so I always thought there was something very elegant and ballet-adjacent with the long-sleeved black leotard, and this leotard also had the additional cool factor of the high neck. It's sleek, it's graceful, it's the look that made me fall in love with Raven's character to begin with. Plus, it was sportier than the high cut half-your-ass-hanging-out evening gown, and that meshed well with the overall looks of the team on that show despite her powers being more magic based than superhero sci-fi like the rest of the team. I also kind of like that it was slightly offset by those soft-looking short boots--those and the gem accents and the little sleeve cuff things added a little fantasy element to the outfit. I WILL say the DCAMU won me over on the sleeveless + long gloves combo by making them fingerless gloves.

I don't like when Raven's outfits incorporate too much of a 'bird' theme. So much of the time feathers just make her outfit look terribly busy, or it really doesn't match her restrained cool attitude at all. I do admire the ballsiness of the New 52 weird feather bone Griffith-Berserk-Eclipse-looking helm, but that look never really felt like Raven, at least it didn't feel like a Raven who was herself, if that makes sense.

For me, the ideal Raven look is one that brings to mind night and water, sleek silhouettes, fabrics that hang with a certain sense of weight but can also swish and sweep around dramatically. She's more of a shadow than a bird, to me. My design challenge for DC artists is "Forget about the bird thing for 10 seconds: How do we indicate to people that this is a half-demon interdimensional wizard girl, without making her outfit too busy?" Gem element good. Feathers bad. Don't worry about the bird--she can literally bring her own bird to the party with her Soul-Self.

I actually do like outfits of hers that turn the high-cut dress into more of a surcoat/overdress for like... a full superhero black bodysuit underneath. I am not a fan of the transparent looking tights, either make them opaque or keep her legs bare--sheer tights is just such a weird middle ground that doesn't feel like something she'd wear.

But yeah, anyway this is how picky I am when it comes to Raven's designs, haha.

[trashcanwithsprinkles]

sometimes the fact that cyanide narwhal childe is from what’s basically our world haunts me, like he plays games, he might’ve played the same games I’ve played (genshin doesn’t count cause he’s also from there) what kinda games does he like??

and like does he ever just, quote a vine? Use some modern slang without thinking about it? I’m sure if he does it’s to the absolute confusion of those around him

did he have a favorite book series growing up? Is there a tv show he particularly likes?

honestly sorry for unloading all of this unto you, it’s genuinely been on my mind for quite a while (and it’s 4 am so I kinda just went for it)

oh yeah he absolutely sometimes slips on slang and stuff. sometimes it's harmless and he doesn't even bother explaining or waves it away like nevermind, but sometimes he has to sit there and explain to guizhong and morax why no, he doesn't think the duck flock is a bunch of chickens, see there's this joke back in his world-

like there's already i think a couple of times where modern words make it out on cyanide, but i think i kept it to a minimum. i'm pretty sure he uses the expression 'ferry' by the end of the fic and has to backtrack and re-explain hahah

honestly i think more than slang or quotes (he will do both once he's not focused on the mission and his brain returns to like. essentially weekend mode) i think it'll come thru in the form of music more than anything. i think if you leave him without conversation and with an easy task he WILL start humming or whistling, and he will be humming or whistling modern songs from modern shows and videogames and pop music.

as for what he liked, i think i did mention atla and mdzs at some point. if he liked mdzs then you can probably add like- tgcf and svsss to that list. not sure if he'd sit down to suffer for 2ha tbh. might sit through tyk/woh's live action if he watched mdzs on netflix tho i think he mentions minecraft at some point. probably played stardew valley, too (probably married either elliott or leah or used a mod to marry the wizard). i think he would've liked monster hunter and shadow of the colossus and like- horizon. but i genuinely think he would've gravitated towards more casual games since his job took up so much of his time and he used games to chill and relax. so like. slime rancher too, maybe. but also subnautica (p sure it wouldn't land as horror on him) that said i want to say the man did play wadanohara when he was younger, like immediately upon being given his own fatui-assigned flat at like 16. it just seems like some hole he'd fall into. i would've said he'd have watched made in abyss but that would make no sense bc then i would've been obligated to have him make direct references to it since y'know. the abyss. for non xianxia shows i think he would've had to have watched at least a couple of isekai to know what that word even is (or a couple of other anime too tbh). i can't think of one in specific rn but i want to say gto and sailor moon for classics. obviously some other modern ones but can't think of one rn. maybe like... honestly? the one where bakarina is from, i forget the name. i think he would've eaten up the villaness genre once it started gaining popularity. and the ghibli movies of course, he does mention chihiro at some point. other non-anime shows too but i can't really think of one in specific rn. probably something CSI adjacent. or a couple of the avenger movies. or just. you know, mathilda.

i genuinely cannot see him being that much of a book reader BUT i do think he would've turned into an avid ao3 user post mdzs.

[racefortheironthrone]

Which X-Men (or X-Men-adjacent characters) do you think are the best fits for each of the core D&D classes - in a sort of "using this character to illustrate what the class is" way? Leaving out artificer, if only because that's so obviously Forge.

This is hard, because I would describe a lot of X-Men characters as Sorcerors both in terms of how and where they get their powers, but also a lot of the subclasses work very well with the various mutant gifts. Most psychics (Charles Xavier, Jean Grey, Emma Frost) would probably work best as Aberrant Mind Sorcerors, for example (although Kwannon probably works better as a Soulknife).

For Rogues, there's no question that it Gambit, cher.

For (Berserker) Barbarians, it's absolutely Logan.

For Fighters, I'd go with Cyclops (a ranged Battlemaster who took all the Warlord manuevers).

For Warlocks, I'd go with Nightcrawler as a Fae Pact Bladelock.

For Druids, you absolutely go with Storm - although most likely, you'd build Storm as a Druid/Tempest Domain Cleric multiclass - although Rictor is not a bad pick either after he hooked up with [A] and got into mutant magic and druidism.

For Bards, I'd go with Doug Ramsey as a College of Lore guy. (And in keeping with the Bard stereotype, Doug's a transhuman bi-poly twink who's secretly a schemer and political operator behind the innocently slutty facade...)

For Paladins, I'd go with Betsy Braddock, since choosing between the Amulet of Right and the Sword of Might to embody the mystical bond between the land and Otherworld is very very much an Oath of the Ancients moment.

If we're going with Rangers, I would definitely go with Dani Moonstar as combining archery powers with animal companions - although I'm not sure whether she'd be a Fey Wanderer (heh) or a Gloomstalker.

For Monk, I would actually go with Kitty Pryde as a spin on a Shadow Warrior build, considering her time training as a ninja under the demonic Ogun and her current incarnation as the vengeful Shadowkat.

And for Wizards...that one is hard. Probably Amanda Sefton.

[wastelandkatze]

ENTRY 4: The rest of the companions heard (friends') Tavs/Durges going at it one night [NSFW]

ft. my Tav, Briar, their love interest, Astarion (pre-relationship, post Act 1) and my friends Tavs/Durges: Kiyo (@dumpups)'s Durge Raegan x Karlach, and Khim's Ngojo x Gale!

CW: mature content TW: mentions of loud semi-public seggs, like they're really going at it damn...

click here for the AO3 link of this entry

“Ugh,” Briar tumbles and twists on their bedroll, even pulling their blanket over their head in hopes of drowning the wild ruckus from the adjacent tent. It didn't work of course, now with the moans followed by wet slapping of skin. The warlock pulls their hair, wondering when they’ll get a good night’s sleep, and makes a mental note to tease Raegan about their orchestra tomorrow. Maybe give them a crunchy smack on the back of their head, too. It’s great to finally have the paladin back from their homecoming, and Karlach undeniably missed the hell out of their lover who's been gone for several weeks, having forced to spend her nights alone again. But gods, couldn’t they conjure a room or something? Does it have to be now? Does it have to be here?

Briar, now with their blanket worn as a cloak, begrudgingly grabs the Bhaalspawn memoir they’ve been studying (almost throwing it towards Karlach and Raegan’s shared tent), and steps out of their shelter to look for a quieter place to snooze in.

As soon as they thought they’re safe from witnessing any more private moments, Briar was almost blinded by the purple light show emanating from Gale’s tent. Counting it as their mistake to pry more, their jaws now agape from the contorted shadows of the wizard and his sorceress, Ngojo. Thankfully, both mages took camp to consideration (unlike Karlach screaming Raegan’s name), making use of a Silence spell, but the shadow theater-ish spectacle they projected sure looks crazy. Ngojo did mention one time how Gale had this book that showed different ways of lovemaking. And it’s just in Briar’s luck that Gale and his lover decided that now, too, is the perfect time to experiment.

With no more interest to see how much more arms can sprout from the wizard’s body, Briar bolts straight to the tent that’s farthest from camp: Astarion’s tent– the only tent with an inviting light and, fortuitously, absence of any malicious activities. They peeked through the open flap of its entrance, curious to discover that the tent is vacant. The vampire must have been in the woods, hunting for sustenance. So, Briar helps themself, rounds a little corner inside while being careful of Astarion’s belongings, and reads to sleep. The chapter was as boring as they expected it to be, catching themself fluttering their eyes and banging their head in a whiplash, waking them up as they hit someone’s head.

“Ow!” the voice grunted. Briar glances on Astarion huddled close to them. There’s even a trail of drool from their mouth to the vampire’s shirt sleeve. “Sorry,” the warlock responds half-awake, wiping their saliva with their hand, “How long have I been using you as my pillow?”

“Not long.”

Briar hums, matching his unbothered demeanor, “I hope you don’t mind me staying here for the night.”

“Darling, you know I can do last-minute arrangements for you,” he smirks. Briar swats his shoulder, earning another “ouch” from him.

“Stop being a creep. You know we agreed to keep it casual when it’s just the two of us,” then they stretch until a joint popped to place, “We’re buddies, aren’t we?”

“Whatever you daywalkers call it, sure,” Astarion rolls his eyes, then pats his shoulder. Briar raised a brow. “You said we’re buddies, so come here and keep me warm before my undead body freezes in place.”

“No preys sucked dry tonight?”

“The woods are apparently a sham,” he sighs, “unless you’re offering in kindness.”

“Not tonight, sorry. I need some rest,” Briar mumbles, settling their head on his rigid shoulder while sharing their blanket with him. Astarion sits stiff, still uncomfortable with the contact’s lack of sexual intention, something he was used to.

“Gods,” Briar sighed, snapping him away from those thoughts, “If only you know how everyone’s really going at it tonight.”

“Oh, I saw. They are quite the show.”

“Please spare me the details,” Briar opens their book to where they left it off, now sharing it with Astarion as he accompanied their reading time—amused with how repulsed the warlock is. As traces of feral noises ultimately died down, so did the warlock, who didn’t last five minutes in reading and dozed off peacefully on the vampire’s shoulder. He avoided ruminating on thoughts that would sour his mood, simply focused on the warmth that his companion radiated before he entered trance. When he awoke to the sunlight’s gentle caress on his cheek—something he’ll never tire of, the same weight remained: of the blanket around him, and of the warlock’s head that now lay on his lap.

His finger twitches as he catches himself fixing the strand of hair on their face. This isn’t good; he’s acting soft again.

divider by @saradika-graphics

[dyvimwhitehart]

fill this ghost town up with light

While her feet do itch to touch down in Tyrian Gorge, she pauses, watching him have the time he deserves with his restored home. or, The Wizard and Dyvim Whitehart visit the Silent Market for the first time since taking it back from the Umbra Legion. READ ON A03 FOR ADDITIONAL COMMENTS.

With the confirmation of just how far the Shadow Palace lies from Bastion, she shifts her eagerness around to equally shoulder its weight with that of reality. It’s simply not feasible to go haywire and burn a hole through Fort Rachias. If she wants a chance at challenging Morganthe face to face, she has to abide by the rules that were established long before she ever set foot in Khrysalis. 

The rules of the Umbra Legion. The rules of the Council of Light. The rules of a prophecy she had no hand in writing, but is tasked with fulfilling— with outrunning. 

Amber keeps her face steady in front of King Mourningsword. He is doing all he can with what he has, and she knows better than anyone that suddenly being thrust into an ongoing conflict like this after such dormancy is difficult. When he acknowledges how she’s practically chomping at the bit to reach the Shadow Queen, she wonders what aspect of her body betrayed her. 

It certainly wasn’t her expression. Maybe her hands, clenching and unclenching, gave away the emotions she’d rather not dwell on. Either way, he gives the plan dreamt up by the throne’s advisor and Zaltanna his royal approval so she can be on her way as soon as possible. 

In her haste, she’s nearly out the door before the king can call out for her to wait. Briefly embarrassed, she turns back around, lowering the hand intended for the door to her side. 

The king smiles amusedly. Then, he himself turns toward one of the other doors in the throne room as if said smile never occurred.

“You will have a companion on your journey, Spellbinder,” 

Amber’s gut reaction to that is a strong, negative one. So many years without a companion, and now they’re being thrust upon her. Hasn’t she proved she can handle herself? Isn’t that what the story wants from her? Even if they mean well, and she’s sure they do, they’ll just slow her down if they stick around. 

Or, they’ll get hurt, and there will be no one else left at the scene to blame but the all-powerful Spellbinder that should have done something more. The blood adjacent to her hands soaks the skin more thoroughly than the blood that actually stains them. 

As if the universe is playing some kind of cruel joke on her, a newly-revitalized Dyvim Whitehart steps through the door King Mourningsword is gesturing toward. 

And if the joke wasn’t already cruel enough, her first instinct is not to fold her hands and simply accept his presence— but to rush forward towards him, sighing in relief. 

(She doesn’t— but can you imagine?) 

“I told Dyvim Whitehart to rest, but he would not have it,” Mourningsword continues. His best knight moves to stand obediently at his side. “Take him to the Melanos Tower. From there, you can better plan your invasion of Fort Rachias.” 

Dyvim steps up, nodding to her. “I am eager to see this through, my friend.” 

Though the king is correct about him needing his rest, Amber can’t help but notice how much stronger his voice sounds. That deep, honeyed tone that was absent at the time of him drinking the antidote has returned in full-force. It invigorates her in a way she is not used to. With it, she could do something stupid— like charge aimlessly into battle— without a second thought. 

She attempts to say something intelligent, but all she can do at the moment is nod. A declaration of wanted independence is still occupying space on her tongue, and the last thing she wants is to turn him away out of habit. 

King Mourningsword does the hard part for them. With a shake of his hand, they’re ushered out the front door of the throne room. Immediately upon exiting, the warmth of the new Bastion hits them. Amber hears Dyvim sigh deeply beside her.

“Isn’t it brilliant? The sun in the sky?” 

Amber wipes a coat of dust from a previous battle off her wand. “I’m as glad to see you on your feet as I am the Burrowers reclaiming this area,” 

“I couldn’t bear to spend another second cooped up in the palace,” he exclaims, jumping further down the steps. “Not when all of this was waiting for me out here,”

It hits her then that Dyvim had no way of knowing that the next phase of the plan involved storming the Melanos Tower. Had he simply asked the king to send him back out somewhere, anywhere he could oppose the Shadow? Or had he requested to walk alongside her specifically? 

Pondering at such a frayed end in the fabric of her journey is useless in the grand scheme of things, though, so she waives it from her mind just as quickly as it appeared there and focuses on the knight’s excitement instead. 

“How much of it have you had the chance to see?” 

“I awoke again after drinking the antidote as the Apiary guard sought passage here from the base of the Moon Cliffs. It was as if my body sensed there was something I needed to see and forced me awake,” the gusto in his voice rises, and then falls. “Of course, I was ushered back inside again soon after that to rest . But the beauty of it all…” 

The wonder on his face encourages Amber to take another look around. Shockingly, she hasn’t made stopping and smelling the roses a priority in all of this. While her feet do itch to touch down in Tyrian Gorge, she pauses, watching him have the time he deserves with his restored home.

It’s important enough to stall the mission because it’s something she feels she hasn’t seen before. The dead worlds like Dragonspyre and Azteca will never have this chance. As Dyvim stops to inspect a bushel of orange flowers, she feels a brief reprieve in her chest— a small voice telling her she’s done a bit of good by Khrysalis. 

And then another, crying out that she has to save them this time. She has to . 

“These are aurantiacus blossoms,” he smiles, rooting around within them further. “We have them in the Last Wood. With all the fog the Umbra Legion brought, I never expected them to survive out here,” 

“They’re persistent,” Amber says. “Stubborn,” 

He stands. “Just like my people. Now what do you say we go find a way to challenge that Ghost Dog, eh? All that bedrest has made me eager to see battle,” 

As they continue to walk, it dawns on her. To make it to Tyrian Gorge, they’ll have to go through the market. He must know, right? That sorrow no longer has a shop there? The last thing she wants to do is ruin the surprise, if it is one. He’s been cooped up half-dead, after all. 

For a moment, Amber’s feet have wings. She picks up her pace and turns back to face him. 

“Before we battle, there’s something else you should see,” 

Dyvim raises an eyebrow. “By all means, then, Spellbinder— I’ll follow you,” 

The guards stationed by the tunnel greet them, both unable to hide their excitement at seeing Dyvim out and about behind their professionalism. Amber steadies her pace to walk beside him as they step briefly into the dark. 

Guiding them to the tunnel’s end is an even brighter sun than before. 

Like Bastion, the fog that once coated Silent Market has now lifted. Stations manned by Goliaths are now occupied by Burrowers who have torn down any garish Umbra Legion memorabilia. Their wispy flags of war have been replaced by lush green banners strewn from tree to tree. All around, flora and fauna she now recognizes from her time in the Last Wood springs up alongside vendor’s tents. 

A smattering of happy gasps and cheers emerge from those near the market’s entrance upon seeing them. While Amber eyes them, offering reserved nods in their direction, Dyvim takes in the sight of a flurry of butterflies weaving around his antlers. His gaze follows them as they flutter off toward a grand old tree shedding pink leaves. 

“By Bastion…” he exhales. 

The small crowd disperses to tend to their wares and shopping lists as Dyvim begins taking slow steps forward. 

“This can’t be the same place we tracked down Zaltanna’s note in, can it? The greenery, the butterflies… I can barely believe it,” 

“It’s very beautiful,” Amber offers, moving to follow him. 

They inspect the series of doors where they once convened upon finding Zaltanna’s (Cornelius, at the time) red sash. Such a quest feels like ages ago. Amber has lost track of time quicker here in Khrysalis than she has in other worlds. It’s a phenomenon she can’t quite explain. Still, its been weeks. Months, even. So much has been done with so much left to do. 

Dyvim stops suddenly, ears twitching upward. Amber steps around his tail as it stands straight out to move beside him. He begins taking slow steps toward the unoccupied homes that make up the edge of the market. 

“Are you alright?” she asks. 

“They’re gone,” he says after a moment. His tone is flat, which frustrates her a bit. Is this how people feel when speaking with her?

“Who’s gone?” 

“The statues. The Crystal Statues I showed you the last time we were here.” he turns his head to look at her. “Don’t you remember? They were the souls of Burrowers trapped when Bastion fell. The ones caught in the Shadow Queen’s dark magic. The ones forced to… stay here forever,” 

“I remember,” Amber murmurs. 

And she does. She steps forward off the grass and onto the stone that once housed the crystals. When in this spot before, staring at the masses of jagged purple rock, her Necromancy had allowed her to sense the spirits of those trapped inside. Their message had been too haunting to share with him at the time. 

Even to a soldier who has seen so much, their words were piercing. They hit her right where the wound of Azteca was fresh. Her composure falters for a moment as she shuts her eyes and presses her palm to the ground. 

She can’t feel them anymore. 

She thinks that’s a good sign, one that points to their spirits escaping, finally passing on. They were not at peace when forever-chained to the Silent Market. If anything, they gave it its namesake, one that no longer fits. And so, they had been liberated once Bastion was. 

She can’t feel them anymore, but she remembers the words they shared with her: We are the dreamers. Not dead yet far from alive. But days ago we loved, felt dawn, and saw sunset glow. 

The light peeking through the treetops warms the back of her hand. Carefully, Amber stands, staring down at the spot on the ground where nothing remains.

“Do you know what happened to them?” Dyvim asks. 

“I think their souls are at peace now. They were able to see Bastion restored, which must have set them free. They can rest. They can finally rest,” 

He nods, seemingly accepting that explanation. She doesn’t know how much weight those words would’ve carried had she not been the Spellbinder. It’s irrelevant, though, if it brings him some semblance of peace as well. 

Another moment of silence passes between them before Dyvim speaks again. When he does, that wry smile has found a way back onto his face. 

“I guess that means our next step is to finish what they started, yes?” 

The heaviness of the spot dissipates as they step away from it, moving further into the vibrant market. After ascending a flight of stairs, the heavily guarded grand door to the gorge becomes visible, as does a waterfall and several more vendor tents. 

Few patrons pay them any mind now. Amber can imagine they’re much more eager to shop again than they would be to stop and chat. Now that she thinks of it, though, she wouldn’t mind procuring a new ring or athame at random chance. Dyvim did mention Burrowers excelling in craftwork. 

“Once the challenge is issued to Ghost Dog, you should come back and take a moment to enjoy all this,” she tells him. 

“And you?” he counters.

“And me?” 

“Do you ever get to reap the rewards of your heroics, Spellbinder? Reach out your hand and feel it, all the sunlight there is to bask in,” 

“I’m sure the sun will beat down on me just as hard across the Starfall Sea,”

“But not in the same way as it does here,” 

A sea of pink blossoms rain down over them as they pass under another grand tree. This one takes root in one of the waterfall pools. Dyvim stops to dip his feet into the water, beckoning for her to join him. 

“You haven’t been encouraging me to rest like the king, you know,” he says. 

Amber dips down to cup some of the bright blue water in her palms. It washes away the dust caked on them, revealing a series of scars and practically changing the shade of her skin. 

“That would be hypocritical of me to do,” she says before splashing her face. “Like you said, I don’t reap my spoils,” 

“How strange it is that the sounds of battle are more relaxing to us than the flow of a stream,” 

Dyvim sinks down beside her, washing his own hands in the water. Amber quirks a brow up as she attempts to rub her cheek dry. 

“It’s not surprising if you think about all I… we’ve been through. Individually,” 

“I never said it was surprising. Just strange,” he stands up to catch a pink leaf before it goes spilling into the drink below. “I’ve never been able to fully enjoy the beauty of the Last Wood because of what its name implies. Last. Final. Close to extinction, needing protection. Every beautiful thing I see is a reminder of what could soon be lost,” 

Amber stays hunched over, hands hung in the water. “I’m not going to let that happen, Dyvim. I’m going to do everything I can to stop it from happening,” 

The peaceful smile on his face seems out of place to her. Every word he says is ripe with the horror of what could be, and yet here he is, playing with foliage like a child instead of a soldier. Just the thought of standing up straight exhausts her, let alone looking overjoyed about it. Now that she’s in this position, she may never be able to get out of it. 

Still, Dyvim just gazes warmly down at her. Only when he lowers himself to her level again does his strength become observable. It hides in the curve of his smile, behind the temporary happiness in his eyes. 

“Thank you for this , Spellbinder,” 

“For this?” 

“You have given me the chance to see the vibrant place my ancestors once called home. It’s a Bastion that, admittedly, some days I thought I’d never meet,” 

“It’s… I have so much more to do,” she says, turning her cheek. 

“We’ll do it together,” 

“Dyvim—” 

He laughs a bit before she can protest about prophecies and whatnot. “—as much of it as we can. Here, take these as a reminder. You’ll need them when you can’t remember what the world looks like beyond the bleakness of the gorge,” 

Amber glances upward, her face still temporarily muddled by some combination of sorrow, embarrassment, and fatigue. Dyvim’s arm is outstretched and his palm wide open. In his hand sits one of the many pink leaves and an orange aurantiacus blossom he must’ve plucked earlier. She eyes them before taking them, as if they’ll bite. Then, she inspects them gently with her own hands. 

“You said every beautiful thing you see is a reminder of what you could lose,” the orange petal melts slightly against a water droplet left on her palm. “Seeing Bastion like this doesn’t scare you?” 

When she looks up at him, he’s already looking at her. “Seeing this is a different kind of beauty. It’s the kind that fills me with hope instead of fear,” 

She holds his gaze then. Just for a second, though, before returning her attention to the gifts in her hand. 

“They’ll never survive,” If anything, they’re already dead, torn off from their stems. 

“They’re persistent,” Dyvim says. “And stubborn. Like someone else I know,” 

At that, Amber stands, and he stands with her. She takes a moment to slip the foliage in between the pages of her tightly packed spell deck. By the time this is all over, if they still have this gorgeous world to enjoy, they’ll be perfectly pressed. 

“You must be referring to yourself,” she manages a smile. Dyvim only shrugs, starting toward the grand door to the gorge. 

“Maybe. Or maybe that’s just something we all have in common,”

[dramatiquechipmunk]

Project O?

Tell me more!👀

Heh, so Project O was initially the name of my main fic's doc when I first started writing it (O from Octavia - I know, how original)

Adjacently, "Project O - journal entries" is exactly what the title suggested. Octavia's journal entries that are (and will be) sprinkled through different chapters in Marked by Fate. She's someone who documents everything she sees and everyone she meets, so the biggest part of her notes are about the companions.

Longer snippet because if I chop it off, I feel it loses some of its essence

Day 54 - Shadow-Cursed Lands (No light. No proper day. Time's a blur.) Skin’s dry. Flaky. Need cream. Everything smells like rot. Ran out of soap. Feel disgusting. Hair…let´s not talk about it. Lips are chapped. Looks bad. Should’ve packed extra oils. Idiot. Astarion  (High Elf, Rogue—Still a Vampire): - Red eyes. That stare. Caught him watching me. Again. - Avoiding him. Have to. Heart skips too many beats when he’s near. He’s dangerous. I can’t get distracted. - Why does he look better in this cursed place? Hair too perfect. Armor fits too well. Not fair. - Has pomade. Need to borrow some. - But he’s getting reckless with the tadpole powers. His eyes glinted purple after we left Moonrise. Is he even scared of this anymore? - He saved me. More than once. I saved him too. I don´t mind it.  - Dreamt of him last night. Again. Don’t want to admit what kind of dream. Shadowheart (Half-Elf, Cleric of Shar): - Hair still flawless. Damn her. But... she’s softer now. Less guarded. - Saw her smile today. Proper smile. It was... nice. - Seems to thrive in this place. It´s…unsettling. - Saved my life again. Her magic's always reliable, even if it comes from the dark. - The Nightsong. A weapon or a person? Not sure anymore. - Could trust her with my life. Maybe not my secrets, though. Not yet. Wyll (Human, Warlock, Noble): - Still won’t talk about Mizora. Saw him staring into the dark like she’s calling him. - Got used to his horns, I think. - He’s always got our backs, even here in this cursed place. - Dependable. Heroic. Maybe too heroic. Still naive sometimes. - Talks more about his dad. Nice to listen to. - Moonrise changed him. Quieter. More thoughtful. What’s going through his head? - Boots are finally filthy. About time. Karlach (Tiefling, Barbarian): - Keeps laughing despite the gloom. Her laugh’s the only light left here. - Said she misses the smell of flowers. I miss the smell of soap. - She’s getting restless. Needs a fight. Saw her punching a tree earlier - I want to hug her but I can´t. Need to fix engine. - Getting closer to Wyll. Might be something there. She deserves that kind of affection, honestly. - Told me about Gortash. What a piece of shit.  Lae’zel (Githyanki, Fighter): - Would follow her into any fight. Even if she’d bite my head off after. - Still scares me - Threw herself between me and that cursed undead the other day. We didn´t talk about it. - Still thinks about Vlaakith. Feels lost a bit. Barely talks about it. - Snapping at everyone. Tension building. - Told me I look tired. Didn´t appreciate it. Gale (Human, Wizard): - Quiet. Too quiet. - Not talking about Mystra much anymore. Feels... off. - Fuck Mystra. - Seriously considers blowing himself up. Idiot. Have to stop him. - Clever. Annoyingly clever, but he's been essential. The things he knows… He’s been unraveling secrets from Moonrise faster than I can keep up. - Still helps me tame my magic. Still won´t admit I like it. - Note: get him a nice book when we arrive in the city

if you read 'till the end, thank you ❤️