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milgram-tournament · 5 months

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MILGRAM Best Song Tournament, Round 1, Match 9 CAT vs. THE PURGE MARCH

Propaganda for both options under the cut!

Propaganda for CAT:

"You like jazz? Jazz is chaos within order. Got to love the whole band. Vibraphone, saxophone, trumpet, flute, piano, guitar, drums, bass… Go, rhythm section, go! The song sounds tender at times and aggressive at others as different instruments pop up at different times. Sometimes they follow Kazui’s voice (“follow the king of the masquerade”). Sometimes they get to be the focus. You have the chill piano one moment and the screaming guitar in the next.

You’ve got a lovely “jingle” (“Lie until it gets better…”) which occurs at the beginning, middle, and end. It fits the “newspaper ad” style of the video really well. Also at the very end, there’s one more line that gives the jingle an upward contour, giving a sense of finality. “Until you can meet the king of the masquerade.” You’re there now.

The two verses start off differently before they take on a similar melody. It feels like Kazui is talking to a different person in each verse.

The chorus is a beautiful façade the first time and a sinister truth the second time.

The opening for solos shows that this jazz song means business. I love how the saxophone and trumpet especially get in your face. And with the tacet on vocals, the walking bass really shines if you lend it your ear.

And the smoke break! Silence is golden. Glass click. Lighter. Huff.

As always, Kazui’s voice is super deep. He hits even lower notes this time around. He’s a fifth lower than the next lowest singers (Haruka and Shidou)."

---

-Great instrumental choice. Kazui and jazz is *chefs kiss*

-Symbolism. THE SYMBOLISM. I can’t type out all my thoughts but ifykyk

-The almost comic like style of the MV is really appealing.

-Lyrics!! There is so much to unpack but it’s really cool.

-Kazui eating the dove… fricken iconic.

---

FIRST OF ALL the vocals????? BEAUTIFUL. His va put his whole pussy into this song and you can tell!! The way he sings the chorus is so damn addicting I'm so in love with him. His voice is more or less stable throughout the entire thing until the final chorus but you can hear the emotion peaking out which fits perfectly with Kazui keeping everything hidden. The way his voice turns into a sort of whisper during "all the things I wanna do that I can't say outloud"??? The way his voice starts trembling during "this feeling it's yearning to be satisfied"???? The way his voice turns into a sort of whisper AND starts trembling during "hey, if I said I liked-liked you, what would you?"?????? HEAVENLY! You can really feel how afraid Kazui is under his disguise and my heart breaks a little everytime I listen. Not to mention how absolutely powerful his voice gets at the climax!!!!!! It's insane!!!!!!! It's genius!!!!!! It makes me wild makes me crazy makes me eat my walls!!!!!!!!!!

THE SMOKE BREAK?????? What other song has something as powerful as that huh???? This isn't just a song produced by the milgram machine using his memories, this is HIS song and he is OWNING IT! The music builds up so much and gets so intense right before it, I can literally feel myself get tense and starting holding my breath right before he takes the break and everything relaxs… it's not just a break for him, but a break for the viewer. The song is spiralling out of control just like his life and his lies and he has no choice but to put it to a quick stop before its too much to handle.

THE IMAGERY IS WILD!!!!! He's a magician!!! Little magic guy!!!! Using tricks and lies to amaze and captivate the people around him! Trying desperately to magic his own feelings into something else! But it's all fake! It's all tricks and no matter how hard he tries he can never actually change himself into what he wants! But he's trying to convince himself the same way he's convinced his audience!! And when you're watching a magic act, are you there for the magician themself or are you there to watch the show?? The people in his life only cared for him when he performed for them, but they didn't give a drop of love to who he was a person! ALSO the transformation of the wedding ring to a cigarette to the dove at the end??? Makes me wild every single time! Right infront of his wife, he showed her that their marriage was something unhealthy for him that was slowly killing him from the inside. AND THEN he uses it to harm himself???? And then he turns that cigarette into a dove- a representation of love and literally TEARS INTO IT. He tears his marriage apart with his mouth!!! AKA HIS WORDS. makes me wild. Also fun fact Kazui says he started smoking because when he was younger it was "just natural for everyone to smoke" and that lines up with his reasons for marriage perfectly.

Kazui looks really hot in it. You should vote for Cat because Kazui is insanely attractive. What other reason do you need huh? Hot gay middle aged man.

Propaganda for THE PURGE MARCH:

"Despite the shorter length, the Purge March has several distinct sections in its structure.

It starts with a rolloff, and then… they don’t follow it. Amane isn’t here to follow the beat.

There’s the spoken-word intro and the upbeat first verse listing the tenets. The prechorus (“dou shiyou mo nai…”) has an amen break. The most-sampled four-bar drum beat. Well, there’s half of it. Is it supposed to mean something? Can I get an amen?

The chorus is so, so cheerful… unless you’re actually listening to the lyrics (“I’ll crush your throat too”) or watching the video. And it’s super catchy.

The second part of the verse dials things back. Now we’re in reality. This is how Amane breaks her tenets. All the while, those tenets are spoken into both ears over the singing. Get some good headphones. She sounds different in each ear.

The music picks up again with the amen break as Amane happily strolls back home, and then-

Oh.

The somber second chorus, with Amane’s lower singing voice and mournful spoken words, leads into the final chorus, with new lyrics and a more forceful tone. The once-meaningless chanting now has real words. “You’re sorry? I don’t care! Please go ahead and die already.” You can hear Amane’s anger despite the cheerful melody. She harmonizes in the final phrase, as if to say “we’re in this together, me and my little color guard troop.” And finally, it’s just her. Speaking. "Oboetemasuka?" Accompanied by only a single drum.

She is both Amane Momose and not. She upholds the doctrines that she was raised with, but she can’t."

---

"Purge March is geniunaly one of my favorite pieces of fiction both in and out of the context of trauma. Its fantastically directed and composed. The batton twirling is spetacular and energetic, the set and character design of Amane conveys a lot about the world she’s in and the story she’s telling. Purge March contextulizes a lot of Magic in both expected and unexpected ways (insert the entire cat symbolism thesis here) Purge March casts Amane in the role of a scary child. The glowing eyes, the framing of Amane as Above the viewer, the brutality and catharsis of it all. It seems tailored made to make you Scared of her. It’s a continuation of the cycle of abuse that we the audience repeated in T1 when we gave her that verdict. A red flashing warning sign about the Inhumanity and Monsterous qualities of Amane Momose. But Amane as a monster is fufilling and freeing. Again, its deeply cathartic. I would write more if I wasnt so sleepy at the moment but its just some Fantastic work overall. Purge March is also just fantasitic vocally and also hids electricity sounds in the instrumental which I think is evil and awesome."

---

-Amane’s vocals and how they slowly get more and more off the deep end is both really sad and cool to watch.

-The symbolism of the marching band and the flags. Ifykyk

-The beginning where it sounds like a propaganda TV show… really shows just how far Amane’s thinking is rooted in her cult and how that’s shaped her perception.

-The LYRICS. They work so well but it’s also creepy AF considering it’s a child who’s singing it.

-“So there is no second time, I’ll give back the judgment that you gave to me!”

-The overlapping part… gives me chills everytime.

-Building off the last point, the last “I’ll crush your throat too.” Ouch.

-“Remember MY cries, MY repents, MY words of “I’m sorry” that I said to you?”

-The song also does a great job of showing how much the guilty verdict messed with her.

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thatdeadaquarius · 1 year

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OKAY OKAY SAGAU BUT THE CREATOR IS A HUGE KPOP FAN LIKE IMAGINE THE MOST STOTIC CHARACTERS DANCING TO TWICE

ANON I HAVE SEEN UR ASK SITTIN IN MY MAILBOX AND BEEN WAITIN FOR THIS ONE-

GOD IM SO BASIC ANON I ONLY KNOW LIKE 2 SONGS BY TWICE (LIKE "FEELS" OR SMTH POPULAR), I KNOW A LITTLE MORE ITZY, BUT MY MAIN'S JUST BEEN BTS SINCE 2019😭

(send me recs pleassseeee ;-;)

Hey this'll be the last time I use colored words for characters!

I think it's a bit too distracting, and the only reason I was using them was to let ppl know if their fav was in there, but now I'll probably just use CW/TW to mention character heavy asks/fics :)

Thanks for being patient with me for so long if ur still reading my stuff :0 <3

Listen as you read?

EDIT 1/1/24: Hey I expanded more about this on my Eldritch Fanfic Part 2 post, but unfortunately I did a form of exoticism by including the term "Huangdi" inappropiately here. I have since replaced it with "Emperor" as was the original untranslated term I would've used. I'm genuinely sorry that I did this, and will absolutely be on the look out/do better in the future. I hope you can understand.

----

AGONIZED OVER THE GIFS THIS TIME THEYRE SO PRETTY AND I WANTED TO GET THEM DANCING ONE OF THEIR CUTER ERA/THEMES ALL DRESSED UP TOO-

also im so sorry?? Idky i was in such a scenario mood today??? Ig im in my exectutive dysfunction paralysis state so maybe that’s why, like it unconcoiusly wants me to waste more time not catching up on uni work??? anyway, hope u like this chaotic addon 😭

or i just love this ask sm, that’s entirely possible too <3

I JUST NEED YOU TO KNOW I PUT ON A MEGA TWICE PLAYIST WHILE WRITING THIS ENTIRE THING LMAO

ok but they’d totally heard ur music tastes thru the screen right?

like just imagine-

the video game music is normalized, and to them its just another one of those “all kinds of magic in teyvat” causing the music, like the seelies wandering around all the time or elemental energy

Jean is flipping through a folder filled with the reports for the week, she’s got to get the routes ready for the week, then there’s the liyue shipments the knights need to help escort over, then checking in on any of the emergency stations/rations throughout Mondstadt for weary or hurt travelers/merchants-

She sighs, and yet another irritated thought is thrown Varka’s way in her mind, she can’t even muster the energy to make it outright dislike she’s so tired…

Jean was so concentrated she just now is starting to hear the Favonious Headquarter’s music once more, it’s peppy upbeat tune… grates like nails on a chalkboard.

and if she has to hear that damn flute for the next hour she works, she’s going to start banging her head onto her desk.

♤

Out in Jueyun Karst, Xiao is dealing the finishing blow to a flying ruin hunter

He’s huffing and stabs his spear into the ground to lean on and catch his breath, the gentle music of the peaks begins to float around him once more

The Yaksha feels the earth beneath his feet shake. Not like from his Lord, not the other adepti angered, but an enemy so large it’s stomps shake the ground he stands on

Xiao quickly straightens less he fall over, pulling his spear out of the dirt with a little more effort than it probably should’ve taken…

The high sounds of the guzheng trickle through the air, a perfect representation of the base of the slopes, trees, streams, and nature all around him

Xiao turns to face the enemy behind him, his arm popping with tired joints,

…A ruin grader, two ruin hunters, and finally regular three ruin guards, follows it. they come around the corner of the bottom of another slope, and they're still simmering with black smoke, curling off their metallic shoulders.

Xiao sees several red targets layer over his chest,

the music fades a little, but sticks around, plucking strings gently. Xiao sighs, exhausted already.

♧

Kazuha and Beidou had to redirect the Alcor from a nasty storm at sea that intercepted their usual route between Inazuma and Liyue,

the storm had practically chased them further and further down form the Inazuman islands

it wasn’t until Kazuha, from the crow’s nest, spotted fog on the waters that they realized they’d be forced to go into said creepy fog, what with the crackling looming clouds at their backs pinning them in

“Not good Captain, the fog is miles long, I’m not sure I can see a way around it…” Kazuha calls down to the deck, Beidou letting out a sharp sigh through her nose

“Damn… fucker’s not even sentient and it practically backed us into a corner, feels like we literally gotta escape the damn thing… BRACE YOURSELVES CREW, WE’RE HEADING INTO THAT FOG!”

The Alcor makes it’s way into the fog, a piano swells with a strange tune…

Beidou, Kazuha, and the crew know to listen to the music of teyvat, especially if you have a life at sea, where storms can appear in the middle of the day or other pirates could attack any moment.

The music means nothing good, but at least Kazuha can see the storm staying at the border of the fog, moving no further in, unlike themselves

“Shit… see anything up there Kazu?” the Captain steering the ship doesn’t even reach a shout, for the music has creeped out all conversation on board

“No ma’am, wait,” a chill breeze brushes through the wanderer’s white hair, he feels goosebumps jump on his neck and spine,

“…Yes! Portside Captain, land, no enemy movement yet!”

“Alright, here goes a bad idea…” Beidou’s arms flex as she easily turns the heavy wooden wheel, steering left,

the Alcor gently comes ashore, and they make anchor.

…there are no enemies, like Kazuha said, but the tune worsens, it had gotten louder now that they’re actually on the theme’s land

It plays slowly, encasing the crew of the Alcor in a paranoid quiet, and it almost has a melancholy note

Crows caw and fly off of a stone gate up ahead, they can see flickers of a strange blue light further inland, like figures carrying lanterns everywhere they go…

“Damn music, I wouldn’t feel half this anxious if it didn’t sound like we were walking into a monster infested cave…” the first mate says, the first person to break the quiet the music held over them.

“Yes, while we might need to stay here for awhile, I think we’re all very aware how dangerous this is…” Kazuha agrees, crossing his arms and squinting at the moving blue lights… the piano plays on.

☆

You open on Spotify on your computer, clicking on your favorite kpop playlist, it’s been rainy all day, so you need the peppiness of this dance playlist to actually not be half-asleep playing Genshin-

You hum along to the Korean lyrics as you boot Genshin up, ugh, ur in-game music is so loud, u forgot u turned it up last time to hear the new Sumeru music…

Turning it down, you let the Kpop songs fill ur headphones as you nod to the beat, your team materializing on screen. Right, off to do commissions first!

♤

Jean is like.. seconds away letting out a scream of frustration, anger, tiredness, loneliness, etc. her hands clenching her hair and ruining her ponytail when, thank Creator, the theme quiets down finally.

The loss of her immediate ire gone, she lets go of her hair, her hands just kind of hovering midair, not knowing what to do with herself, all the negative emotions giving her face wrinkles just melt off, leaving her stunned, blank face behind

🎶 Dalkomhan chocolate ice-cream-cheoreom Nogabeorineun jigeum nae gibun so lovely! Kkamkkamhan uju sok gajang banjjagineun Jeo byeol jeo byeol geu yeope keun ne byeol 🎶

Acting Grand Master Jean actually screams when abruptly a song in an unrecognizable foreign language, blasts into her office, around it, filling the entire Favonius Headquarters with its… cheeriness??

Jean lets her hands fall onto the desk, still in shock

..well, she quickly decides she’s grateful for the new music either Barbatos or the All-Parent had heard her pleas for…

…actually, it’s kind of,, catchy?

Jean takes out her ponytail, massaging her aching scalp, huh, she really did have it tight she’s just now noticing, she feels a small smiles appear on her face,

she actually kind of wants to do something now (she kind of hopes this new foreign bard song sticks around..)

♧

If you asked Xiao what happened in that battle he’d be hard pressed to tell you,

without going completely red in the face. LMAO

He probably wouldn’t tell the other adepti this, especially Cloud Retainer, but Xiao had definitely had to get used to fighting brutal battles to the sound of gentle summer day-esque music

Right as the aruguably, army of ruin machines spotted the Yaksha, he’d launched himself into the air to try and evade the rusted beasts, aiming his jade spear, adding winds to swirl around the staff to better boost his attack, the machines warm up, their targets moved and locked onto him midair, right as both sides launch their attack-

🎶 Geogi neo I fancy you! Amuna wonhaji anha Hey, I love you (Love ya!) 🎶

Xiao nearly falls out of the air.

Quickly recovering, he uses his anemo power to propel himself off to the side dodging, he swears to his Lord and his Emperor himself, delayed attacks, as if the machines were caught off guard too,

missiles whiz by him, exploding behind, the peppy song of foreign women’s voices sings out into Jueyun Karst bright and happy-

🎶 Geurae neo I fancy you! Kkumcheoreom haengbokhaedo dwae 'Cause I need you! (What?) 🎶

Xiao’s face goes from being confused to concentrated throughout the rest of the battle, and the worst part… it actually helps his energy levels.

and he finds himself nodding along

☆

Kazuha takes the lead, his sword unsheathed and at the ready to cut down the slightest movement before it can get to any of the crew behind him,

He’s flanked by the Captain of the Alcor herself, Beidou’s electro shield emitting a deep hum as it blocks in front of both himself, and the crew behind him

all of the pirates have unsheather their own weapons, daggers, swords, claymores, bows, their all on high alert, waiting for.. well, any enemies at all.

In fact, Kazuha hopes he sees hilichurls soon, just for the familiarity it could give him and the his crew-

the music begins to fade away.

The crew stops just shy of the entryway that was perched with crows before they scattered, the white fog hasn’t moved beyond its lazy drifting, but the creeping sounds have stopped entirely. Not good.

Captain Beidou sighs after a few silent moments, other than the quiet breathing and shuffling of weapons from the Alcor crew.

She lets her claymore sword thunk against her shoulder, and just as she opens her mouth, turning to address the all, deciding camping here will have to do for the night-

🎶Fancy! youu, ooh Nuga meonjeo johahamyeon eottae Fancy! youu, ooh Jigeum neoegero gallae Fancy! ooh!🎶

Kazuha’s shoulder shoot up to his ears in a flinch, red eyes wide, he barely stops his reflexes from taking a hard swing with his sword, several crewmembers shriek, collide with metal clinks into one another, Beidou drops low, her sword swinging off her shoulder into almost a full swing at the ground-

…

…..

……..

🎶 Dalkomhan chocolate ice-cream-cheoreom Nogabeorineun jigeum nae gibun so lovely! Kkamkkamhan uju sok gajang banjjagineun Jeo byeol jeo byeol geu yeope keun ne byeol 🎶

the music plays on, the only one making any noise as the entire Alcor crew just, stop. after their initial shock.

Kazuha’s the first to break.

He desperately tries to contain a quiet chuckle, which turns into a giggle, which turns into a full-on wheeze, as he buries his sword into the ground to brace himself on it and one of his knees

the Captain cracks by the time Kazuha wheezes, her laughter going straight to guffaws and knee slapping, her claymore shaking the ground where she stabs it to lean against

the crew erupts into laughter, both as the peppy foreign song echoes into the mysterious fog, and Beidou’s ridiculous laugh, as always

they don’t recover until two songs later when there’s finally a slow kpop song, Kazuha’s had to sit down, tears streaming down his face, Beidou’s half-dead, wheezing out complaints about her stomach, as the crew keep sending each other into more and more laughter right as they think they’re done.

They decide their Akitsu Mikami must have the best sense of humor and must just be sitting on their celestial throne pranking some of their subjects from time to time, and the Alcor crew find themselves all the more appreciative for it, their nerves entirely gone about the island

Kazuha and Beidou are constantly asking other bards they meet to try and see if anyone can recreate the song for the crew sometime they liked the beat and the memory so much, Fancy by Twice will still get a laugh out of Beidou and Kazuha, and they’d quickly let you in on the inside joke so you’d be a part of it too (afterall you did it lol)

♡

NOW MORE IMPORTANTLY, BC IDK IVE BEEN ON A SCENARIO KICK LATELY?? SORRY IDK WHY U GUYS KEEP GETTING SCENARIOS-

There’s only TWO 2 CATEGORIES THAT MATTER HERE-

◇

Who’s DANCING!! w/o u needing to do anything but play the music:

NILOU (she got those choreos done in like, an hour flat everytime u teach her, shes always begging for “just one more dance lesson Greatest Lord? 🥺”),

YUNJIN (difference betweeen the two dancers is that nilou asks :) → yunjin lowkey demands, she like always gets u into a situation where you have plenty of time to teach her and feel obligated, u just got gaslight gatekeep girlbossed into teaching her another kpop dance LMAO), they also see it as they’re (literally) god-given job to dance better than any idol you’ve seen do it before, esp when they recruit groups of other dancers to join for group choreos

Yoimiya! cutie #1, CHILDE, amber, eula, ITTO, bennett,

Collei (but shes shy u gotta encourage her),

Diona (cutie #2),

FISCHL (would form an actual group to dance all the choreos like a real kpop group),

Gorou (shy #2, needs encouragement),

Kazuha (tbh I think he’d have fun and be weirdly good at it, fem or masc dances),

Ayaka (shy #3, needs encouragement and would rather die than dance in front of ppl other than you),

KLEE CUTIE #3, NAHIDA CUTIE #4,

Qiqi (but u gotta teach her slow bc she needs to memorize it, and also it takes her a bit to write down the dance steps in her journal so she doesn’t forget as much),

Razor (another person i think would just have fun with it! also he’d do it but it would be very, aggressive? like making finger hearts but violently shoving his arm out at ur face lmao),

HEIZOU (shutup he’d actually be good at it and brag- and flirt at you-),

Aether (shy #4), VENTI, xingqiu, xinyan, KAVEH

BARBARA (she literally stalks u around Mondstadt all like “oh hello your highness! just happened to walk by you and was wondering if you heard any new of those “kpop” dances, you know I’d LOVE to show it off at my next show-!” like she hasnt been a block behind you the entire day 💀)

♡

WHO YOU MANAGED TO CONVINCE TO DANCE LMAO-

babygirl Wanderer (he literally surveyed the area before he finally let u teach him any moves, and refused to any sort of dramatic moves, like fem or masc),

Alhaitham (but only like a small part of a guy group choreo like a bit from God’s Menu or smth, he was too lazy to do anymore even for u lol),

Cyno (dammit some of these bitches look way too good doing even girl group dances-),

Diluc (u got him to do like, a pose. LMAO and he saw Kaeya in the distance and quit immediately LMFAO),

Kaeya (but it didnt take much convincing, if anything it just took forever to teach him, he’s talented in footwork for swordfighting but apparantly not dancing, at least not modern dances he tripped so much ur convinced he did it on purpose at one point so he’d fall into your arms again lol),

Ganyu (super shy, wont do it around anyone but you, and maybe Shenhe),

speaking of Shenhe (she just took awhile to teach bc she wanted to stay upright a lot, kinda stiff),

Keqing (once again, another who’d only dance when it’s just u two lol),

Yae Miko (she just wanted to learn the whole choreo that’s what took so long… and now she’s making comments like “My goodness, my god wants me to dance for them? They’ll even show me how? Oh, now I must do it perfectly so I can satisfy you, my Kami.” STOP TAKING THINGS OUT OF CONTEXT UR TEACHING EVERYONE-),

Ayato (he’s acts so theater gay he refuses to do anything but the girl group dances/fem dances lol),

SARA (easy, give her ur strongest, saddest pout and she cracked like glass, u got her to do a whole dance with u/she actually got into it too, its her secret guilty pleasure now lol),

Kuki (did one sort of move then got BARRELED OVER by Itto’s crazied boy group acrobatics he likes so much, u know the backflips over each other type of ones? yeah. ),

Ei (the god herself/not the puppet, catch her never doing that lol, she tried but didnt, get it? she’s also pretty stiff, but she looks like she’s having fun so u just keep teaching her moves, and she likes that its you teaching her something new),

Thoma (shy #5 ? idek what number we’re on anymore lol),

TIGHNARI (u nag that bitch so hard he nearly throws a drink at you to get u to stop bothering him- NO he does NOT think those dances would suit his ears- dammit he wont do that dance, no matter how much he likes you- DAMMIT MY LORD-),

Xiao (if u thought nagging Tighnari was hard, this is like nightmare mode, not only does he not wanna do the dances, but he also wants to understand WHY u want him to dance each and every move- !! bc he would “look cute or cool”?!?!!?!!! …yeah he’s gone, he went so red u cant even get him back with tofu),

Zhongli (would like, be so confused on how to make his body do that, that he ended up just sort of posing, at least he looks cool)

♡

(anyone not on these 2, u did, in fact, not manage to convince, yes, even if their god asked them to, nor are they doing it of their own volition lol)

WHAT THE HELLLLLLL-

THIS IS SO LONGGG IM SO SORRRYYYYY

ANYWAY HOPE SOMEBODY LIKED THIS, DW ILL STOP THE WEIRD SCENARIOS AFTER THIS ASK I JUST GOT IN A PHASE I DONT KNOW WHY

also, im like, three weeks away form graduating uni? NICE, soon i will be free to assault u all with responses mwhahahaha (rubs my little gremlin hands together)

Safe travels,

💀 ♒

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk

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brand-new-hair-band · 4 months

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*Taps mic* *leans in* It is, the Wizard.

Imagine this, Wild for the sake of fun, dresses as Dark Link. He starts to stand ominously stare behind trees in the costume, and eventually goes for a full jumpscare.

How would the guys react?

asjsjskdjsjkadfs hi Wizard hope this email finds you well

Sky: he saw Wild changing into the Dark costume a few weeks ago. Wild made a “shush” gesture and Sky nodded solemnly, Comitting to The Bit. He’s hiding behind some bushes making creepy noises with a flute he whittled specifically for this purpose.

Wind: at first he thought it was a friendly ghost (it’s more likely than you’d think) but he started getting more and more paranoid as the apparition would never speak to him or show its full form, which is a bad omen. The moment Wild jumps out, he knocks out a Light Arrow, which luckily only plucks the hat off and reveals Wild’s hair tucked into a messy bun.

Four: at first he thought it was a friendly shadow (it’s more likely than you’d think) but there was no way that creature wasn’t stalking them, possibly to give information to Ganon. He tried chasing it a few times but never got close enough before it disappeared. He turns into the Colors and quickly pins Wild on the ground who just grins and offers a deal to keep a secret for a secret.

Legend: knows a transformation trick when he sees one. Sure, he has his shield and sword out in an instant, but a quick look with the Magic Mirror confirms the truth. He decides to whip out the most chaotic items he has just to mess with Wild. Think: cane of Somaria, quake medallion, tornado rod, fire gloves.

Hyrule: he’s been saving his Thunder spell for just this purpose. He knows better than to try to fight his shadow in melee combat. If Thunder doesn’t knock him down, there’s always Fire.

Twilight: fights shadow with shadow, so he’d turn into wolfie and tackle him in record time. After which he’d recognize him based on scent and let some drool fall on Wild’s face as punishment.

Warriors: at first I thought he would be the most impulsive Link (one does not survive what he did at the Temple of Souls without significant trauma) but after some thought I think that whole experience left him with a lot of insight and self control. Thus, he would notice the foe is not made of actual darkness (Wild has his own shadow after all) and tie him up to interrogate him. Wild would Commit To The Bit for as long as possible. Sky is still making creepy noises behind a bush.

Time: The suit in BOTW / TOTK resembles him specifically. Those damn red eyes bring up the worst memories of his quest, no, quests. For this, I crown Time as Most Likely to Cause a Lethal Wound. He’d become friends with Mipha though so it’s fine.

#ngl I’d love to write a full fic for this #but that’d take me too long to figure out how to include everyone at the same time #asksksksks #ramblings #crack #lu wild #lu sky #lu wind #lu four #lu hyrule #lu legend #lu twilight #lu warriors #lu time #linked universe

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aziraphales-library · 1 month

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Helloo,, I was wondering if you had any fics from the Kingdom of Wessex era. (Or anything really around 537 AD/when they were knights!) Thank you !!! : - )

Hi! Here are some Wessex fics...

A Small Island by CopperBeech (E)

After their unexpected encounter in sixth-century Wessex, the Black Knight -- ahem, Crowley -- has an arrangement he'd like Sir Aziraphale to consider. Aziraphale wants something too, and pursues it with uncharacteristic persistence. “So, given it any thought? Comin’ to some kind of arrangement?” Aziraphale seemed to be considering something in the shadows on the other side of the tent. The candle picked up white-blond lights in his hair, glinted on the Saxon glass beaker half full of cloudy mead. “I have,” he said softly, “been giving thought to a good many things.” “This en’t gonna be one of those philosophical discussions you used to drag me to, is it? ‘Cos it was always dead borin’ till they brought in the flute girls. Bangin’ on all night about the Nature Of Love, an’ that.” “Yes,” said Aziraphale.

you are whatever a moon has always meant by meowremus (NR)

He’s holding out an offer steaming from lingering put-out hellfire, and Aziraphale, God damn him (quite), wants to accept. He thinks of walking home with Crowley and asking him more about his life, tell me everything you do, the horrible bits, even, I won’t complain, I’ll bite my tongue and think of your teeth as you look towards the trees and sin. “Are you tempting me, Crowley?” a knight walks into a bar and orders a pint of mead and an intensely homoerotic conversation with his hereditary enemy.

The Kisses in Wessex by SeedsOfWinter (T)

What if Aziraphale and Crowley throughout the ages, but a first kiss of some kind always happens? In Wessex, Crowley enjoys a pleasant afternoon with his hereditary enemy... ——— Over the years stuck in Arthur’s kingdom, Crowley had indulged more and more in the respite of sleep. They’d fully grown to love it. What they did not love was that sleep getting interrupted. “Not today. Lemme sleep.” “I didn’t come all this way,” he said, “just to be shooed off like a common kitchen boy.” His voice was too prim to be one of Crowley’s troupe. The demon shot upright, tossing aside the sheepskin in their momentary panic. The haze of dream-edges evaporated with the dawn of recognition. “Angel.”

Plausible Deniability by caricari (T)

Crowley pops up to the angel's camp, after their meeting in Wessex, to apologise. Kind of.

Rain in Avalon by Snowfilly1 (M)

"Avalon was old when it wore that name. Old and strange and full of wonder, guarded by holly trees and white stags, garlanded by springs that run with water clearer than starlight and hills that echoed with music even in the silence. ‘They told me Arthur was dead, Angel. That I should get up here and start a war now the Round Table’s broken.’ " Crowley, Aziraphale and the Fall of Avalon. The first time they worked together, and the times when magic was, maybe, still part of the world.

Le Morte D’Aziraphale by Ultramarine316 (T)

During his time with King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table, Aziraphale winds up in an awkward situation and asks for Crowley’s help extricating himself, but the other Knights don’t respond well to The Black Knight suddenly appearing and carrying off their (Fair Damsel) Sir Aziraphale. Hijinks ensue.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #wessex #mod d

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moonschocolate · 5 months

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Tom Riddle headcanons!!

because lately i've been thinking about this tragic little human <3

tw: mention of torture as a topic

first of all I wanted to clarify that in this there's no Voldemort, no interest in practicing dark magic, just a teen who goes to Hogwarts soo... :)

proud slytherin. no matter how much other people can say 'slytherin = bad' he just doesn't care, he will not argue with you if you think or say that cause he will find it pointless

I don't now where I read this, but if I'll find it I will tag the person who said this before me: he has autism!!

which means he is not a very social person, and he has little/no friends

and he is deeply attached to an object/topic

the topic in question is dark magic

he doesnt want to practice it, he just finds the whole thing interesting

which deeply concerns professors

he knows everything. about horcruxes, the three unforgivable curses, origin and all

he simply thinks that knowledge is knowledge

IF HE READS?!?! OH DAMN

i strongly believe he has one hell of a library in his dorm

the most dramatic myths ever? knows them

he's just a nerd

read books about t0rture, c0mmunism, n@zism, because knowledge is knowledge

also reads light books of course i dont want to scare you

maths is not his thing

like yes he's good at it but he doesnt really care

did i say hes dramatic?

and an absolute pessimist

since i do not believe that his hair is like that just because it is, he HAS to have a hair routine (DROP IT TOM)

has an infinite collection of bookmarks

no person is allowed to touch his books

doesnt write on books even with pencils

listens to DRAMATIC classical music

EXAMPLE

(also y'all have to teach me how to put spotify songs with the blue rectangle cuz i dont have a clue on how)

JUST THE START

Idk it reminds me of him (and regulus but this is not about him)

this goes against the fact that he's dramatic, but i think that in a relationship he would be a good-old fashioned lover boy

flowers, love letters, POEMS, kissing in the rain, handing you his jacket when you're cold

and of course he wears suits

NOT a sports kid

mf doesn't know a single sport

he just learned how to swim

that's it

is defo the kind of person who is SOSOSOSOSO SKINNY

He's skeptical af on food

like i believe he's a picky eater

and i dont think he eats a lot

like he will go through the day with some coffees, some water, breakfast and a snack in the afternoon

is always gentle doing anything

when he's mad he's even more mad that he can't throw anything because then he would be even more angry that it got broken

has NO PHYSICAL FORCE AT ALL

Like his arms are spaghetti

im sorry but imo he's short

like 1.70 cm (5'5''-5'6'')

which is not really short

I CANT SEE HIM AS A TALL BEING

will not admit it but hates the sea

like as long as he can reach with his feet the "land" below then it's no problem

if he can't he'll try to act cool and say he's tired and immediately get out of the sea

it gives him a sense of pure confusion because he doesnt know what he could run into

which annoys him

because when he cant know something it hurts him physically emotionally psychologically

he knows plenty of languages

english, french, latin, russian and german

why?

because it's cool

also knows how to play the piano and the flute and the viola

"never judge a book by its cover" he does exactly the opposite

especially with books he judges the book by the cover, if he likes the cover he'll like the book too

and people can gain his interest only at first sight

he hates how lots of people can easily change their opinions as long as their group/loved ones have a different opinion

or how people always follow the crowd

people who judge mudbloods just because they're mudbloods are too stupid for him

i think we all know that he is THE teachers' pet

he's the Hermione of his generation

which means that while there are plenty of people with their hands raised the only one who will be listened to is tom

is a MANIAC in cleaning

his bed and his overall room is always tidy af

he hates getting his uniform dirty

he has plenty of nightmares about his past

which he never talks about with anyone

is the kind of person to have 4 or 5 cats

he is absolutely quiet

i got a strong feeling that this man was bullied before hogwarts at the orphanage

he has a cute little stuffed animal in really bad shape which he has from his years at the orphanage and it's hidden at the end of his wardrobe

he strongly despises children because he doesn't have a clue how to deal with them

acts like he has patience

lacks patience

in a modern au, the only thing he'd have going to school would be a black pen

not because he didnt care or was too lazy to get other things but because he didnt find having 3985729947 pens and highliters necessary

dada would be boring for him because out of curiosity he would've already learned most of the spells or wtv

i dont remember if i said it but quidditch is NOT something he likes

or just flying on a broom in general

(remus lupin behavior)

(I had to say it)

studying consists in him burying his face in the books for like 4 or 5 hours straight (my man has some serious issues)

you could tell im completely delusional because he became a killer and nothing's good-old fashioned lover boy about canon him but oh well🥰

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kb1301 · 5 months

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This is out of the blue but I want to share and ramble with you all about my half-orc tav... my beloved oc and first tav that I completed the game with.

I didn't know how to do the F10 hide ui thing during this time but...

Here's my man Khugrahk! Half-Orc soldier who started as an Oath of Vengeance Paladin!

(see more of him below - strong spoilers ahead for the whole game!)

I'm an orc lover, through any media... and the Forgotten Realms and D&D ain't an exception to it. So with Baldur's Gate 3 I was like, "I have to make a half-orc."

And he's my first true OC! (two others have been made before but I scrapped them)

Playing the magic flute to bring back his companion and eventually... partner.

Beefy? Yes. It's needed. I like it a lot.

Scratch gets some good scratching and petting, because it's only right.

He's no longer pledged to his Oath as he broke it and became an Oathbreaker. But instead of using the powers that being an Oathbreaker provides to be a baddie, he just does good (or mostly good at least.)

The knight comes knocking on the breaker.

This man is serious to his mission of getting rid of the tadpole, but circumstances changed when he decided to repurpose the tadpole for better uses. So, he just does what he can with the tadpole to defeat enemies and help his allies. But he is still intent on removing it... even if his adventure with his party is making it feel impossible to do that.

All in all, my man's a do-gooder and likes being good even through unconventional means (aka raising the undead and summoning them).

He's fought through the problems of the Grove, the Underdark and with it the Grymforge. He's solved the shadow curse and helped bring back life and light to the lands. He's just rolling on and on with being good (not to say he's that pure... man will murder if he gets annoyed by someone).

Facing that damn construct at the forge.

He has helped his companions too! Loves them bountifully as well. Khugrahk loves talking to each one of them and always takes their discussions well whenever he can get it.

And regarding pivotal moments of his companions.... he has:

Helped Shadowheart with her crisis of faith and turning away from Shar and saving her parents.

Helped Karlach with her infernal engine (to the best of his abilities) and got revenge on Gortash.

Helped Wyll secure his freedom while still managing to save his father from that underwater prison.

Helped Lae'zel free Orpheus and start an uprising against Vlaakith.

Helped Astarion get his vengeance against Cazador while staying true to his self.

Helped Halsin in dealing with the shadow curse.

Helped Jaheira find her old friend and companion Minsc.

Helped Minsc be free from the tadpole with the reluctant help of the Emperor and get Boo!

And he has definitely helped Gale in... staying true to himself and not approaching ambitious goals of godhood and might by giving the crown to Mystra.

Might I say though that this man loves Gale to bits? Ever since he saved Gale from that portal, and as he fell to the ground pulling him out of it, Khugrahk looked at Gale in lovestruck eyes. He thought Mr. Sophisticated (that's what I typically call Gale, affectionately of course!) was handsome and so fascinating that he practically latched on with Gale!

Start of the romance...

I myself love Gale a lot, and through Khugrahk I showed that love. Just spent so much time with Gale that he became essential to my party, always accompanying Gale as my cleric (Yeah, he's a knowledge cleric and I had made some changes with some of the other companions to have other classes).

Enjoying one each other's presence.

I consider Khugrahk to be quite the hopeless romantic, and has loved to have a love of his life, and he found that in Gale. There was just something about this man of ambition that makes him drop to his knees and plea to what gods he may or may not believe in of how he found a beautiful and smart and funny and articulated man to be in love with.

He's not delusional to not know about Gale's godly ambitions however. And he has always preferred Gale as he is, not the Gale that seeks power or godhood.

He won't let his man get over himself, he won't let his man dream of godhood just to spite her. He wants him for him, not him as something beyond him.

In the end, he has swayed Gale away from becoming a god. He got Gale to give Mystra the Crown in exchange of the orb within him and now the two are married! (Of course after the whole fiasco with the Netherbrain and the Netherstones).

A knowing smile, just after they defeated that big brain in the sky and having cured himself and his companions from the tadpole.

Gale proposes to you, what do you do? Marry him of course.

Six months later, Khugrahk married Gale and moved in to Waterdeep and became a Dekarios! They visited their friends once more when Withers sent out the invites and everyone just had great fun talking to one another and catching up.

And... that's my tav people! Hope you enjoy me rambling this shit because I love my half-orc and his spouse!

#kb posts #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #kb ocs #oc: khugrahk #bg3 tav #half orc tav #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #gale x tav #galemance #galetav

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carterashofficial · 8 months

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Down by the River

The bug bites were itchy again. Shadowheart had practically showered her with healing potions, but the damned bites were infuriating and annoying and fucking itchy. And the bandages from an arrow graze on her forearm made it hard to bend her elbow to play her flute. Her hair was greasy and desperately needed a good wash. Hell, all of her did.

Uncomfortable didn’t even begin to describe how she felt.

She needed to get away from it all for a moment. The constant reminder of the tadpole, the tension between Lae’zel and Shadowheart, Karlach’s wonderful but boisterous personality. The Shadow-Cursed lands, damned in too many ways to count.

The camp was up on a long plateau overlooking the shadowy basin, safe from the curse but-

Fuck.

But swarmed with mosquitos. That thought she was the best meal around.

All that was needed was a moment of peace and quiet and to just be alone, because what had started as one terrible day had gone and turned into the worst month of her life and she just needed a little privacy to have a quiet cry and get her emotions back in check. That, or she was going to crack and scream at everyone. Only one person really deserved to be somewhat screamed at, but not out of malice, more like out of too much concern and not enough time to address his suicide plan.

Tavi glanced back towards camp. Her lyre and a crappy bottle of wine were tucked under her good arm. The camp tents were illuminated from inside, like stained-glass lanterns. By the fire, on her sleeping bag, slept Scratch, head on her pillow and one foot possessively over a bone that looked suspiciously like one of Wither’s.

Her flute was tucked into the bottom of the sleeping bag, the safest spot with the dog on it.

She smiled as one of his paws twitched in his sleep, before turning towards the river and traveling along its banks until she found the fallen log she’d spied earlier. It was far enough away that her playing wouldn’t carry, and it would afford privacy.

Tavi built up a small fire and settled herself on the log.

She hadn’t played a lyre in months, preferring her mother’s flute, but she hadn’t been able to resist the poor old lyre sitting on the back of a merchant wagon, abandoned. If no one else would love it, she would. Sure, it wasn’t as nice as Angus’ lyres back home, but this one was her’s.

It needed to be varnished, and perhaps given a little tune up, but it sounded as it ought to.

Tavi shifted into a more comfortable position and started plucking the strings, figuring out which notes needed to be tuned and introducing herself to her new instrument. It was mostly in tune, enough to play decently. She hummed along, and paused to open the wine. It tasted like vinegar, but would get the job done.

Perhaps she’d lied to herself. She didn’t need to get her emotions in check; she needed to let them loose.

The lyre sang as her fingers danced over the strings, and some of her magic sprang out as a slight breeze that twirled over the fire.

It was a quiet, private space. She could be reckless, just a little bit, as a treat. Tavi had never tried to see what her magic could do. Angus paid for her to sit there in the corner and play music, not craft spells or whatnot with an old flute.

But Angus wasn’t here to make her follow his rules. Tavi was alone, in the middle of nowhere, with a godsdamned illithid tadpole in her head. She’d gone through the Underdark, almost been killed by the Gith Queen, and now this Absolute cult was going to march on her home. It would be a war that she wouldn’t survive.

Too many people would get hurt.

But it wasn’t like she could just walk away.

This wasn’t how the storybooks went. When the heroes faced insurmountable odds, they didn’t lose faith; they didn’t want to scream and yell ‘pick someone else, I want to go home!” The great heroes always won and championed over evil. No one turned into an Illithid, no one sacrificed themselves for a petulant goddess’ forgiveness.

But she couldn’t even go home, because Angus was a bastard and had probably already hired a replacement bard. And she couldn’t bring Scratch. And, and she would only admit this to herself, she refused to let Gale kill himself.

So it was kill the Absolute, die trying, run away and probably become an illithid sooner than later, or try to go home and be destitute.

Excellent options.

She paused and looked down at the lyre.

Just a little magic. So she could pretend she was brave and strong and everything a hero was, and she could pretend she was a bard in the stories, the sort that sang great ballads, and survived any adventure.

Maybe that was the wine talking.

The lyre sang.

---------------------------------------------

Gale needed to walk off some excess energy. He was jittery; in fact he’d been jittery since Elminster had delivered Mystra’s… offer of forgiveness. His brain refused to shut up, considering every conceivable angle, and yes, there were a lot of angles. A mathematically significant amount of angles.

This was a different kind of jittery tonight, though.

Because he’d made a terrible mistake of wondering what Octavia would do when he died.

And then no matter how he tried to distract himself, his thoughts insisted on sneaking back to think about her, and that-

That-

You should finish writing that farewell letter to Mother, he told himself halfheartedly, because he was going to wallow in these feelings unless he distracted himself, and that was unusually difficult at the moment because when he and Octavia has been joined by magic (his magic, and that had somehow made it feel so much more intimate after the fact), she’d imagined kissing him.

Him. Kissing. Kissing him.

Gale realized he’d walked in one big circle around the camp, and spun on a heel to go back to his tent.

Where had his thoughts been?

Ah yes, the letter to Mother-

Liar. He’d been thinking about kissing Octavia, but in his defense, she’d thought about doing it first, and he hadn’t been able to forget about how she hadn’t been able to look at him after that, face reddening and teasing tone replaced with softness. He hadn’t been able to look away from her.

What was he doing?

He was going to die in a couple of days. If anything, he needed to finish getting his affairs in order-

Gale let out a frustrated sigh, because now he’d walked away from camp and towards the meandering river-

Who’s playing music at this hour?

He looked back at camp. She’d been curled up in her sleeping bag- No, that was Scratch. So Octavia had to be the source of the music. Gale followed his ears until he saw a small fire, and Octavia swaying alongside it, lyre in her arms. An empty wine bottle lay on it’s side by her feet.

The firelight shimmer with magic, and sparks flickered.

The sparks had formed a magical figure across from her.

Octavia and the magic figure bowed to each other as she plucked at the lyre strings.

This song he recognized. It was an old bittersweet love song about a woman who wanted her lover to meet her down by the river, each verse telling the lover how to get to her, until she realizes that the lover isn’t coming and to leave her there, dreaming.

He choked on his breath.

Octavia was singing. Her voice was melancholic, quiet but powerful. He could’ve sat there, smiling and listening all night, except this was clearly something personal she was working through and he didn’t want to intrude. She spun around the fire, tear tracks on her cheeks as she sang to the magical spark figure.

She had to have used magic to form the sparks-

Oh.

Gale needed to leave. Immediately. This was private. She thought no one was here, he shouldn’t be spying on her, and Octavia deserved her privacy without him complicating anything further. He backtracked, whirled, and walked as fast as he could while still being silent, her singing spinning around in his head.

The camp was just as he’d left it-

No, it wasn’t. Withers was furiously hobbling towards Scratch. The dog must’ve stolen another bone.

Gale slipped into his tent and didn’t bother to crawl into his blankets, He stared at the canvas ceiling.

Octavia’s song had followed him. Gods, he wanted to hear more. He wanted to wipe the tears off her cheeks. He felt like a schoolboy who’d just realized he had his first crush and didn’t know what to do but try to make her smile. Ridiculous. He was an accomplished wizard, nearly forty years of age, with an illithid tadpole in his brain and all he wanted to do was go back to that little campfire and tell her he was utterly infatuated.

He wouldn’t, though.

Gale rolled over onto his side and blew out the lantern.

The figure in sparks she’d conjured had been him.

#gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #bg3 gale #balders gate 3 #bg3 tav #bg3 oc #Octavia de'Mire #bg3

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toubledrouble · 5 months

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More quick pjo/hoo headcanons

(most of these are cabin 6) (also, if I accidentally stole your headcanon, definitely let me know so I can either delete it or credit you)

Listen, I'm tired of Athena kids being only the architecture/math kids. Give me Athena kids who excel in humanities. Athena kids who know everything about their latest hyperfixation, that's it. Athena kids who are craftsmen or artists of any sort to the extent where you could mistake them for Hephaestus or Apollo kids

Generally just. Different cabins discussing someone's godly parent, because really, if you take a closer look, many gods have common traits. Like Apollo being the God of logic, music and poetry while Athena is the goddess of wisdom and art/craftsmanship. Plus Hephaestus being a blacksmith - also a craft. Dionysius, Athena, Hermes and Apollo are all associated with theatre. Hades and Hecate are both associated with magic. Is it a Demeter kid, or an Athena kid that really likes botany? You may never know. It's like Frank thinking he was a son of Apollo only to discover he is actually a son of Mars - you can have a tip and there is quite the chance you will be proven wrong.

Also. The deal with Athena kids and chess. Listen, I love you, but as a strategy lover with adhd, I have to tell you that I keep losing because I just can't focus on it. Just. Nope. Not working.

Similar goes for word games - do you think a bunch of dyslexic kids is going to love them? Maybe if it was in Greek, lmao.

I cannot get over this one: Athena kids playing instruments. Obviously, not with such an ease as many Apollo kids, but Athena kids are still pretty decent at it. Also, Athena is after all the creator of the flute. That's right. Musical talent runs in the family xd

I am once again here with my sacred animals headcanon. Gods sending their sacred animals to check on their kids. Kids being able to talk to those animals, or just being surrounded by them. Cabins having them as pets (yes, give me a cabin with a whole damn lion on a gigant dog bed)

All of the art god kids™ team up and try to convince Cheiron to let them see different musicals. So far, they have succeeded only with Hamilton, but that doesn't mean they'll give up.

Tyche, Nike and Hermes kids have bets that get out of hand very often, but they're unstoppable. Also, along with Athena and Ares kids, they take competitions to a next level, none of them willing to lose

Actually, genuenly: I'm cancelling the blond Athena kids thing. I'm moving it over to the Apollo cabin and establishing that if anything like this should work there, it should be with brunettes, because Athena herself is most commonly depicted as a brunette. Case closed.

You know that paint that basically turns everything you paint it with into a chalkboard? Or those gigantic stripes of blackboard that you can stick on your wall, mostly made for little kids to draw on? The Athena cabin has that.

Or you know what? Had. It had to be removed and replaced with whiteboards because the cabin was filled with chalk dust, which covers everything and also isn't very comfortable to breathe in.

The cabin smells like lemon and peppermint, both of which repel spiders

It also has automatic floor heating because everyone knows that the floor is the most comfortable place to study

Oh, and there is a ton of creative projects in various stages of progress

The Athena cabin sends out a messenger (animal or a person) to bring a literal olive branch when they seriously want to settle things - it's both a clever reference and a symbol of Athena. Ares cabin is the only exception because last time, they set it on fire.

You've heard all about the language headcanons, but what about Demeter kids understanding the language of flowers?

Apollo kids are either extremely afraid of snakes (because of Python) or they love them (like Asclepius), no in-between. I'm convinced that at one point, a kid determined to get their siblings to love snakes as well got one and named it William Snakespeare. That is officially the only snake liked by every cabin 7 resident

Apollo kids actually love their godly sibling, Aristaeus - God of shepherds, beekeeping, cheesemaking, stuff related to that, medicinal herbs, olive growing, oil milling and the winds that provide respite from the heat of midsummer, aka the chillest guy I've ever heard of. I'm convinced he visits the camp once in a while and brings them the good stuff. Asclepius probably visits sometimes too, but as the God od medicine, he's a busy guy. He still loves helping his sibling when it comes to his area of expertise.

All Athena kids have a gift directly received from their mother (and most of the time, it's sending a mixed message)

A cool gift concept - a weapon in the style of Jason's, except it turns into a weapon the user needs the most at the moment. It's also great because Athena kids easily adapt to any weapon with little to no training and obviously, this is a very strategic weapon to have. I also think that unlike Riptide, it could be lost very easily - Athena would definitely want to teach her kids a lesson about keeping an eye on their stuff.

You aren't allowed to ask the Athena cabin about their favourite philosophers because it always turns into a fight

Since Athena only needs a mental connection of sort to have children, there are definitely Athena kids with mortal moms or infertile parents

One time, an actual child of Minerva shows up to Camp Jupiter. Needless to say, the Romans aren't taking it well. Children of Athena are probably called to explain the circumstances of their birth, which results in a discussion uncomfortable for both sides

Since Apollo stays basically the same in Roman mythology, it can be kind of hard to tell if his kid is roman or greek. I think many children would be relieved to know that both options exist and they aren't just weird

Have I talked about how different regions worshipped gods a bit differently? Yeah. I want that to be a thing noticeable in demigods. I think I mentioned this in some of my earlier posts.

Poseidon kids instinctively know the international code of signals (a flag code used for communication between ships)

Hera's (goddess of family) and Hestia's (goddess of home) cabins can be used by unclaimed demigods

#pjo hcs #pjo #headcanons #percy jackson #heroes of olympus #demigods

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canary3d-obsessed · 2 years

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Restless Rewatch: The Untamed, Episode 35 part one

(Masterpost) (Pinboard)

Warning! Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Perfect Date, part one: Moon Gazing

While Wei Wuxian has been out unpacking emotional baggage with his family, Lan Wangji has been busy planning the perfect date. He's found the tallest bridge in town and placed himself there where his crush is most likely to see him in profile.

When Wei Wuxian arrives, Lan Wangji is gazing at the moon to pass the time. I wonder what phase the moon is in? Crescent, maybe? Waning?

Ha ha ha ha, this is television, the moon is full, of course.

Wei Wuxian is downtrodden and bummed out until he sees Lan Wangji, at which his whole demeanor brightens and softens, and he cat-blinks up at him.

Then he reflects for a moment on the reversal in his expectations. He's not one to dwell on gains and losses, but in this moment he sees that he's both lost Jiang Cheng and gained Lan Wangji. Wangxian, flute solo edition, plays on the soundtrack while he somewhat dejectedly goes to meet up with Lan Wangji.

Get Your Hair Did

Lan Wangji didn’t do his hair specially for this date, because his hair is always so extra it would be too obvious if he tried to make it more extra. But he sure does look beautiful.

The Lans have a rule about not wearing excessive bling. It’s good to know that wearing two pieces of silver on your headband (one of them is not visible here, it’s on the part that wraps around his ponytail) and four more on top of your head is not excessive.

(More after the cut!)

One of the things I love about Lan Wangji is that he values beauty, including his own beauty. He's an ideal gentleman of his time; one who appreciates his natural gifts and is responsibly curating them for the enjoyment of those around him. And while he’s been through an ocean of grief and trauma, and has a body covered in scars to show for it, he hasn’t let that change the way he adorns or carries himself.

It’s Only A Flesh Wound

Wei Wuxian slowly hobbles up the stairs and then tries to bullshit Lan Wangji about the state of his body at this moment, which is:

limping because of being beaten with magic lightning whip

massive gnarly curse on leg

additional curse on arm which Lan Wangji doesn't even know about yet

probably didn't eat anything today either

Lan Wangji wants to take care of Wei Wuxian. Lan Wangji has his work cut out for him.

Wei Wuxian tries super hard to downplay the entire situation but Lan Wangji pretty much reads his mind, immediately yanking his robe up to look at his leg.

(Knee replacement surgery photoshoppery by yours truly)

When he sees the gnarly curse, he is able to infer that that Wei Wuxian transferred the curse from Jin Ling, and that he therefore met Jiang Cheng, and that he therefore got his ass beat.

These two and their nonverbal communication. Wei Wuxian says ten times as much as Lan Wangji, but so much of it is deliberately misleading that his words don’t convey any more real information than Lan Wangji’s silences. They both need to rely on body language and inference in order to understand each other.

Lan Wangji decides that he’ll carry Wei Wuxian, and when WWX says no, they go back and forth about that time during the turtle hunt, when Wei Wuxian offered (unsuccessfully) to carry Lan Wangji. Wei Wuxian claims not to remember, and Lan Wangji has the nerve to get his feelings hurt, microfrowning as if Wei Wuxian forgot some special or tender moment.

Of course, to Lan Wangji it was a special, tender moment; Wei Wuxian was thoughtful and risked getting in trouble to try to help him. But to Wei Wuxian it would just be another of the many, many, many times he tried to get close to Lan Wangji and Lan Wangji told him to fuck off.

Perfect Date, part 2: Barebacking Piggybacking

Lan Wangji, displaying the same respect for Wei Wuxian’s boundaries that Wei Wuxian chronically displays for his, ignores his protests and picks him up to carry him back to the inn. He’s working his way down the romance-tropes checklist tonight and he’ll be damned if he misses any ticky boxes.

The department of questionable practical effects has cooked up some excellent fake legs for this occasion. I mean...its possible they’re real? But come on. Look at them.

In the shot where Wang Yibo is actually carrying Xiao Zhan while they both obviously laugh, XZ's legs are tucked back, with the sole of his shoe showing.

And when they walk down the stairs in the closer shots, it really doesn't look like XZ is putting his weight on WYB. Maybe they are both walking down the stairs in tandem? Anyway, Wang Yibo has an exceptional bod, with perfect control of every muscle on his frame, but he is a slender, wiry guy who is overall smaller than the dude he is carrying. So I don't begrudge them any fakery they needed for this shot. I just laugh at Wei Wuxian's gently swaying feet whenever I see them.

While Lan Wangji carries Wei Wuxian, they banter a bit about how Lan Wangji was able to recognize him. But that’s mainly a distraction from what’s really going on in this scene, which is a classic hurt/comfort encounter. The last time we saw WWX get a piggyback ride from someone, it was Jiang Yanli carrying him after he fell out of a tree. Wei Wuxian is always taking care of everyone, but his sister is the person who consistently took care of him, and now Lan Wangji is stepping into that role.

He tried to do it in Wei Wuxian's previous life, without much luck, but now he's just blowing past Wei Wuxian's objections and doing what he feels needs doing.

Perfect Date, part 3: Drinks with a Friend

When you’re shy or just not that talkative, it’s not a bad idea to meet up with friends on your date, so that someone can help get the conversation going. Lan Wangji has recruited old friend Nie Huaisang to break the ice and put Wei Wuxian in a cheery mood.

The camera cuts away while Wei Wuxian ties the ribbon of his mask, just like it cuts away whenever a cultivator starts to re-sheathe a sword.

And now we, and Wei Wuxian, learn that grown-up Lan Wangji is not only comfortable touching and carrying Wei Wuxian, he's apparently into manhandling him quite a bit, unnecessarily doing a full-body, both-hands snuggle just to walk him three steps over a threshold.

Nobody is complaining about this, mind you.

Lan Wangji has a hunch that Wei Wuxian likes his mean side, so he is mean to Nie Huaisang in front of him, hoping that it gives Wei Wuxian ideas.

Wei Wuxian follows up by giving NHS a warning that comes directly from his own experience: “if you don’t explain what’s going on today, be careful that once it gets out, all the cultivator families will gather to interrogate and subjugate [and]...when you want to talk, no-one will be willing to listen; no-one will be willing to believe you.”

Nie Huaisang gets revenge for their bullying by dumping nearly 10 solid minutes of exposition on them. We are kinda done with the “show, don’t tell” phase of the story; there’s a lot of information to impart. I’ll explain.

No, is too much, I sum up.

The crypt in the forest is a Nie Clan ancestral tomb, that occasionally eats people because it’s got traps all around it.

The crypt doesn’t hold bodies, but sabers.

The Nie Clan’s sabers are just absolutely loaded with resentful energy, which is why Nie Clan leaders tend to die of qi deviation.

The crypt's sabers are angry, and they like to feed on monsters and beasts, so the traps are designed to lure in those sort of creatures.

The humans who get eaten are generally either thieves, or cultivators too dumb to realize they’re trespassing on Nie property, which makes it fair to eat them.

How was Nie Huaisang to know that Jin Ling, a cultivator who actually matters to people, was that dumb?

This is all a big secret because using resentful energy, even without killing humans to get it, is forbidden. And the entire Nie Clan has been using it for ages.

Including, incidentally, during that one time when they came to Nightless City to point their (resentful) sabers at Wei Wuxian and punish him for using resentful energy. That time that he basically described to Nie Huaisang in his warning at the beginning of the conversation.

Fortunately for Wei Wuxian’s mood while hearing all of this, Lan Wangji has already ordered wine for their date, and he has it ready for Wei Wuxian the moment it’s needed.

Look at that swagger.

Also fortunately, Nie Huaisang is a genuine friend to Wei Wuxian (even more than WWX realizes currently, of course), and there is a lot of goodwill still remaining from their youth together. Earlier in the conversation Wei Wuxian yoinked NHS’s fan off of him, and before he gives it back he looks at it carefully and has a flashback to a new-to-us scene of their time in cloud recesses, where NHS showed him how great the fan is, while WWX rated it “meh.”

This time he repeats, verbatim, Nie Huaisang’s words of praise about the fan. Wei Wuxian’s memory for poetry and poetic speech is perfect, despite the swiss cheese that is his functional memory.

It’s a little jarring, and a lot heartbreaking, to see young Wei Wuxian, with his fresh, pure style (no black robes, no bracers, a floral silver twist in his hair), with his boundless enthusiasm and curiosity, and with his sword. The fact that we haven’t seen this scene before makes it hit that much harder.

I’m not sure if Wei Wuxian is deliberately giving Nie Huaisang a hint about his identity, or if he’s just praising his fan as a way of showing that he appreciates his friend. Nie Huaisang doesn’t show any sign of recognition, though, just grabs his fan and goes.

Perfect Date, part 4: Slip Into Something More Comfortable

Lan Wangji jumps into the next part of the date with gusto, settling at Wei Wuxian’s feet and attempting to take his clothes off. Wei Wuxian gets all shy, saying he can do it himself.

Lan Wangji signals his new acceptance of demonic cultivation by making an unabashed thirst face when he sees Wei Wuxian’s extremely-cursed bare leg.

The moment is interrupted by the cursed sword in the Qiankun bag, jumping around on a fishing wire like a fucking cat toy.

Perfect Date, part 5: Gift Giving

At this point we, and Wei Wuxian, discover that Lan Wangji has stealthily stolen his flute and has fixed it so it sounds good. Also it has some nice carvings on it now, which presumably came from Lan Wangji, although maybe they were there already from Wei Wuxian waving Jingyi’s sword around when he initially cut the flute. That’s how the holes got put in it, after all. The entire genesis of this flute is sketchy.

While the “somebody loves me” music plays on the soundtrack -- a tune we hear a lot when Jiang Yanli is on screen -- Lan Wangji finishes fixing up the flute while Wei Wuxian watches him, with dawning warmth and happiness.

This is the first of two times that a person who previously condemned Wei Wuxian’s method of cultivation, gives him a flute. Both times, I think, it’s the person’s way of giving their blessing to his cultivation method.

The fact that Lan Wangji initially tells Wei Wuxian to play Rest solo is another huge gesture of respect. Rest is a Lan Clan jam, but Lan Wangji lets Wei Wuxian take lead, only joining in when the cat toy Qiankun of Sword Cursedness doesn’t cooperate.

Perfect Date, part 6: a Duet

When Lan Wangji does join in, it's the best part of their date night, for them and for us. The camera operator treats us to several gratuitous closeups of beautiful hands and lips while they play.

They are delighted to be playing together, with a whole lot of eye fucking gazing, and Lan Wangji openly smiling like the lovestruck dork that he is.

This duet is a quiet evolution of their battle-couple dynamic; they're perfectly in sync with each other, subduing a restless spirit like regular cultivators on a night hunt. The first time they played Rest together, it was after an argument, on opposite sides of a killing field. Now they're playing and working in perfect harmony, in a considerably more intimate setting.

Lan Wangji feels like this date is going really really well.

#the untamed #cql #wangxian #the untamed gifs #cdrama #restless rewatch:the untamed #lan wangji #wei wuxian #nie huaisang #ep35 #canary3d-original #also on ao3

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leporellian · 4 months

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i feel like the fact that the julie taymor magic flute being there as long as it has (i say this in the present tense bc that thing is Still being whipped out for the holidays) has dulled us to how damn weird a lot of the directorial choices in it are. anyone going to talk about the (suddenly speaking into a megaphone) CODPIECE DICKCAGE MOUTH PADLOCK or have we all just like accepted that’s Normal✅

#the magic flute #opera tag #rambles

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tabletoptrinketsbyjj · 11 months

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Trinkets, 64: Interesting baubles, semi magical objects and items touched by mystery.

A letter of personal letter of reference saying that the bearer and his companions should be allowed entry into the occult library of Arkham’s Miskatonic University. The paperwork makes a porously vague reference that the bearer and their companions are friends of the college after their assistance during the “Dunwich Incident”. The letter was written and stamped by a Dr. Henry Armitage, who was the Chief Librarian at the time.

A copper, hexagonal coin. On one side is a smiling face and the words “REMEMBER TO LIVE”. On the other is a skull and the words “REMEMBER YOU WILL DIE”.

A star map depicting several celestial bodies that aren't visible to those without the Second Sight.

An ornate incense holder that looks as though it should connect to a larger object. The sweet smell wafting from the perfumed censer hides a poisonous reaction within. Knowledgeable PC’s are aware that the Brethers of the Seat of Infinity use these burnt offerings to confuse and confound their senses. In a state of rapturous delirium, they behold obscene truths and righteous falsehoods.

A complete deck of antique playing cards that once belonged to a royal family. The face of one of the queens has been scribbled out.

A piece of coloured glass, etched with a poem in Infernal that fills the bearer with melancholy when held.

A fist sized piece of jagged garnet. The deep crimson and maroon gemstone pulses faintly and smells of blood.

A simple silver flute perfect for a set of clever, delicate hands. Whenever the object is grasped, flashes of someone else’s emotionally poignant memories flash in the bearer's mind as if long forgotten but suddenly remembered; You saved up all summer to buy it for your sister, thinking of how happy she’d be when you gave it to her on the day that you came home; but then the war came, and by the time it was over you had no home to go to. Now, every time you hear someone playing the flute, the same damn fool hope rises up in you that this time it’s going to turn out to be her…

A nose made from colored glass that is sacred to a God of Craft.

A portable ram composed of a sturdy wooden beam, banded with iron and ending in a heavy metal head. The head’s broad and flat striking surface aligns with the beam’s horizontal aspect. Attached to the beam are two iron handles with leather-wrapped grips. One handle is affixed near the head, and the other is near the opposite end of the beam.

—Click Here to be directed to the Hotlinks To All Tables post, which provides (As you might have guessed) convenient links to all of the loot and resource tables this blog has.

—Keep reading for 90 more trinkets.

—Note: The previous 10 items are repeated for easier rolling on a d100.

A copper, hexagonal coin. On one side is a smiling face and the words “REMEMBER TO LIVE”. On the other is a skull and the words “REMEMBER YOU WILL DIE”.

A star map depicting several celestial bodies that aren't visible to those without the Second Sight.

A complete deck of antique playing cards that once belonged to a royal family. The face of one of the queens has been scribbled out.

A piece of coloured glass, etched with a poem in Infernal that fills the bearer with melancholy when held.

A fist sized piece of jagged garnet. The deep crimson and maroon gemstone pulses faintly and smells of blood.

A nose made from colored glass that is sacred to a God of Craft.

A sculpture of a single rose in full bloom, seemingly masterfully crafted and colored from an unidentifiable metal that leaves the sculpture pliant yet indestructible.

An old and slightly tarnished, antique locket. It might be your imagination, but it seems to radiate an unnatural heat, which quickens your fingers.

A mummified humanoid hand coated with wax, with a wick projecting from the wax at the end of each finger. Knowledgeable PC's can identify it as a Hand of Glory, an occult artifact made from the left hand of a man hanged for the crime of murder.

A preserved human heart in a decorative antique jar, glued shut to prevent the formaldehyde from leaking. It smells like roses in a hospital; medicinal and faintly sweet. The liquid glows dimly in the dark.

A pirate's hat with a metal brooch, the seal of Ship Kurth.

A single white magicians’ glove with gold details. It feels cheap and is uncomfortable to wear. Seemingly fitted for a human but magically adjust to the hand inserted.

A featureless white mask imbued with a subtle magic.

A keyring full of miniature holy symbols and imbued charms.

A plague doctor's avian mask gilded in gold, decorated with elaborate carvings of ghosts writhing in agony, and eye glass made from thin sheets of solid quartz. Underneath the decoration, the plague mask is a lumpy linen hood with a long leather beak sewn in, and leather-rimmed eye holes. The beak is filled with dried herbs that smell like sandalwood and myrrh, with an unpleasant lingering mildew undertone only noticeable after several hours in its presence.

A yew wood figurine of a winged satyr carrying a willow branch staff.

A small, finely polished geode whose crystals slowly fade between every colour of the spectrum.

A writ of authority that allows the bearer access to residences where blasphemous activities are suspected to take place in order to rout out sin and corruption and bring heretics to justice. The letter is signed and stamped by the head of an order of militant inquisitors.

A small porcelain pot in decorated with swirling pastel designs. It’s filled with hand and face cream that smells of sweet pea and roses.

A hammered pewter bowl and flatware.

An old lucky coin that belonged to a sea captain from a foreign land, kidnapped by sea-sprites to marry their queen. The sprites however were mesmerized by the captain's shiny coin and he cleverly used it to hypnotize the mischievous demons and make his good escape. Perfect for idle thinkers and fingers alike.

A bone needle whittled from a demon’s fingerbone and cleansed in a river delta

A palm sized spool of copper wire.

A vintage military decoration dated NRy772, the year of baron Samias Northcrest's untimely death in battle.

A tiny gold tablet with strange unrecognizable writing.

A small portable brass icon, the size of a palm, that depicts St. Ar’qhual’aaaa. According to religious accounts, she came out of the blue, spoke an unknown language and had a second mouth on her forehead. Despite her oddness she was blessed with miraculous healing powers and disappeared without a trace after saving a whole town from the Black Plague.

A silk vest in sea green and yellow made loose and light to be worn over armor.

A dented tin cup the name “Elaina” engraved on the handle, and stamped on the bottom with the crafter’s sign.

A stack of passionate love letters, tied with a red ribbon, written to a local noblewoman by someone who was definitely not her husband. Frustratingly they're all anonymous, but various internal clues suggest the author was not a member of the aristocracy.

A bronze-and-clockwork head of a woman, slightly larger than life-sized, clearly missing a chunk of mechanisms from the area of its throat. When wound up, the gears turn and the lips move as though trying to speak, but no sound comes out.

A heavy letter wallet containing a bundle of incriminating papers, implicating an influential local figure in a variety of crimes and misdemeanors. A reader skilled in investigation can determine that about half of them look genuine but rest are probably high-quality forgeries.

A weathered leather satchel tooled in nautical designs and full of rose-colored salt.

A walking cane made from an exotic mummified snake.

An iron clasp, as for a cloak, inlaid with copper in the shape of a ship.

A humble holy symbol that has been treated with loving care. Whenever the object is grasped, flashes of someone else’s emotionally poignant memories flash in the bearer's mind as if long forgotten but suddenly remembered; It was your mother’s holy symbol. She had it blessed by the local priest, and gave it to you just before you set out on your first campaign. You wear it over your heart in every battle. May the gods watch over you, mother, wherever you are…

A scrimshaw work-in-progress of a mounted soldier tilting at a snail.

A heavy envelop containing 1d4+1 Randomly Coloured wax sticks and a seal from a lesser house of merchant tycoons.

A 19-string harp of oiled limewood and sycamore with gut strings.

A famed painting of a famous fight between shieldmaiden and sea monster.

A deed to a cemetery plot in a nearby city.

A large tapestry depicting an ancient battle with tentacled monsters.

A large net with an amazingly fine mesh, attached to a rope for throwing and hauling, and ringed with wickedly-sharp riphooks.

A light brown staff ringed at the apex with a small golden band, a large eagle feather tucked securely in its clutches.

A deck of cards that shuffles itself when tapped twice.

A white lace parasol that creates three possible illusory effects beneath its open canopy: a soft flurry of snowflakes, gently shifting rainbow lights, or tiny, flitting songbirds. The bearer can cycle through the effects of dispel the effect by tapping on the parasol’s silken grip.

A rough-spun pouch containing fourteen glass marbles in various colors.

A dented pewter tankard engraved with a scene of wolves killing a stag.

A cloudy blue bottle with a silver stopper in the shape of a rose. A dark red liquid can be faintly seen sloshing around inside. The vessel is filled with a sweet raspberry cordial and contains enough for five regular sized cups.

A brass doorknob etched with the image of a wandering bear.

A fascinator made of gold filigree and bright blue feathers.

An outwardly plain box carved with dwarven runes, surprisingly light, and roughly the size of a loaf of bread. Inside, the box is much more extravagant, lined with crushed velvet and studded with gems. An old dwarf nursery rhyme plays when the box is open “The Legend of Calibra Daliq,” a thieving dwarven wizard, who shrunk herself to sneak past guards and locked doors in order to get her riches. She was, of course, beheaded in the end for her crime.

A cracked crystal ball. When you aren't looking directly at it you see something moving in the ball out of the corner of your eye.

A decently sized skull that seems to be some sort of aberrant mix between rat and Random Humanoid Race.

A strange metallic artifact crafted in the rough shape of a squat wand, the tarnished object was forged from an alloy of gold and lead. The aberrant item is adorned with the strange heads of three fish-human hybrids, possibly Deep Ones, and is further decorated in a strange metallic amalgamation of unnatural and natural organic forms of marine fauna such as coral and mollusks. Knowledgeable PC’s are aware that it is serves as the Relic of Invocation for the cultists of Devil’s Reef.

A woman’s handbag with a false bottom that could be used for hiding small objects during a casual inspection.

A tree branch that has withered and flourished more times than there are stars in the clear night’s sky. When it is withered, it grows anew. When it is thriving in its fullest, it fades away yet again.

A primitive carving depicting an emaciated, hoofed humanoid creature with a horrible equine face.

A shard of petrified winterglass that twinkles with a faint resonance. These gems are prized by the Martyrs for preserving the dead and the dying. Their frozen bodies become relics, broken apart and shared with the most pious of their order.

A heavy drinking horn cut from the skull of some unknown animal requires two hands to lift.

A pair of bellows with a shining brass nozzle and a dark wooden frame. Etched into the wood are artistic depictions of winds surrounding a red orange flame. The flame seems to waver and shimmer as you pump the handles.

A crystal shard that hums and buzzes with a palpable energy, shimmering every possible color and others you only dream about. Staring at it gives you the feeling of swimming across time and space. Hot when near it, cool to the touch, its existence is a walking contradiction but you feel all the more confident for holding it.

A small bizarre crystal that seems to glow faintly from within. It looks like amber, but is as hard as granite, but with an almost waxy finish. When you stare into it, you begin to see patterns, almost on the periphery, vague and indistinct. The more you look, the deeper you see.

A jawbone made of siderite, a strange metal that comes from the stars. The jawbone itself is clearly impossible, as there are types of teeth from almost all known creatures and they seem to be…growing.

A little rectangular mirror. When you touch a dent on the bottom of it, it will hold the image it reflected then for as long as you don't touch that dent again.

A macabre wind chime whose bells are made of hollowed bones, the clappers and weights are rotting fingers and toes. It does have a pleasant sound at least, but to many that is even less reassuring.

A mask crafted by a kind hearted man in a land of torment and villainy. The mask is made of oak with silver plating covering the wood. The appearance is that of a stoic emotionless sentinel.

A face veil made of gossamer macemaker silk, the color of freshly spilled blood.

A written pension of a middling civil servant, guaranteeing the recipient a copper and a turnip every day for life.

A mosaic tile depicting an ancient city and its rulers.

A copper whistle that creates a noise from a random animal when blown into.

A tiny pot with a small sunflower planted in it. A glowing yellow smiley face is etched into the face of the flower, and it sways back and forth despite there being no wind. When looking at it you feel a little bit happier.

A small sphere made out of a strange bluish metal. The sphere ignores all air resistance, friction, and gravity and never loses momentum unless physically stopped by a barrier, allowing it to move unbridled in any direction indefinitely.

A meticulously decorated golden coin that seems to have tiny sharp teeth surrounding the face of the coin. Touching the center of the coin causes the teeth to clamp down on your finger.

A small painting depicting a husband and wife, held in a miniature wooden frame. Anyone who holds it sees themselves in the place of the husband when they look at it.

A wreath of flowers that bloom during the day, and die at night, only to bloom again the following morning.

A palm sized statuette of a chicken. If the holder looks at it for more than five seconds, they start to hiccup uncontrollably for the next minute.

A shabby leather explorer’s backpack with a nicked wooden rack near the top. Tied to it is a drab, ragged bedroll, along with a simple, dented tin box. Belts on one side of the pack hold hempen rope. A waterskin has been hung from its own carrying strap, which fits across the whole pack.

A palm sized snowflake made of ice that never seems to melt.

A forked stick that tends to points towards areas with very little water.

A black metal lantern with a black leather hood made from humanoid skin. The lantern is always cold to the touch and never exudes heat even while burning. It shines an eerie, dim, unnatural bluish light in a radius of 50 feet when lit.

A blood red fiddle that seems to have strings made of human veins. The music produced is horrible sounding and terrifying.

A small statue of the God of Greed that glows when near gold.

A stein decorated with a design depicting a fearsome kraken tearing a ship apart during a tumultuous sea voyage. Golden threads decorate the bottom of the design and line the polished metal lid of the stein.

A copper rod decorated with gilded lightning bolts that makes your hair stand up when held.

A red drawstring bag that remains warm to the touch regardless of ambient temperature. It is filled with fine ash that can only be created by the intense heat found on the elemental plane of fire.

A small ceramic urn filled with cremated ashes. The markings on the vessel signify they are the remains of an infamous religious zealot that was responsible for a holy war that killed thousands.

A distinctive mask that belonged to the former king who ruled over the land. The kingdom is no longer ruled under the same form of government, but the mask is a relic from an era when the kingdom was ruled under the iron fist of this tyrant.

A rumpled piece of parchment with words “Mansion basement safe 5839” written on it in a fine noble's penmanship.

A greasy scrap of parchment with the phrase "The Maimed Goblin, midnight, three nights hence. Or else!" badly written on it.

A soft leather purse full of foreign currency.

An iron key with a ribbon tied to it. The ribbon says "Box 824".

An embroidered handkerchief with an image of a duck swimming in a pond filled with gold coins.

A prickly wand bristling with thorns and a piece of quartz on one end.

A silver fork whose tines are bent every which way.

A rudimentary astrolabe made from carved bones and feathers.

A leather pouch containing a ceramic pot of granular green powder and a roll of five cloth bandages. When wine or water is added to the green powder, it forms a poultice that heals two daggers worth of hit points (2d4). Any healer, herbalist, shaman, or cleric can readily identify the powder, or PCs can discover its purpose through experimentation. There is sufficient powder for 3d4 applications.

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bardic-inspo · 2 months

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Midnight Chimes

Chapter Four: Dissonant Whispers

Pairing: Astarion x Cursed! Tav

✨Full Chapter List✨BG3 Fic Masterlist ✨

Series Summary:

It’s easier for Astarion to believe Naomi tastes so sweet because she was his first. Easier to ignore the fact that every undead in vague proximity yearns for the same blood that’s sated him night after night. Easier to pretend her music is arcane as any other bard’s, and not divine enough to wake corpses from the dirt. Easier to pretend Naomi is simply a bard, and not something more akin to a siren. One that's slowly realized she's not just another sailor, after all. Easier to bury the fact that he's already stupidly in love with her. Like she wouldn't just raise that out of the ground, too. A curse rears its head. A devil comes calling. Astarion fights for his freedom from Cazador. He and the rest of their merry little band fight to save Tav from the doom she feels she's fated for.

Chapter Preview:

That mouth can do both. When he’s motivated to. When he wants to. When he wants something, Astarion can be whatever he needs to be. Except for now. He grows sheepish, beneath her skewering stare. Astarion breaks his gaze away with a little huff that’s somewhere between a snicker and sigh. “Maybe you’re right,” she says, with a softness that turns his cheek her way again. Her eyes flit, briefly, to the settle of his drying curls around his ears.

Chapter CW: Companion/Origin character death in this chapter. I promise character death isn’t going to be a common occurrence,

A/N: Cross-posting from AO3. Dividers by @cafekitsune.

✨ Click here if you prefer to read on AO3 ✨

Naomi’s legs dangle free from her perch on the cliffside. She rolls a new flute in her fingertips, acquainting her skin with the semi-smooth feel of it. Gulls banter between the crash of waves. Each ocean spray carries the sharpness of salt and the sour odor of fish gone foul.

She hadn’t noticed the stench, yesterday, when they found Alfira not much further up the slope. It seems the sweetness of the shore died with her.

Wyll, Gale, and Lae’zel found another cave. This one, unoccupied. They stayed to stake out their new camp while Naomi, Shadowheart, Karlach, and Astarion doubled back to the grove for supplies -- a new bardic implement among them.

It’s a crude thing, whittled down from the tusk of a boar. It doesn’t sound as pretty as her old one. At least it’s yet to snap in half.

The four of them take their rations overlooking the beach, strewn over the sun-drenched rocks. Karlach leans back, feet bouncing in a private rhythm she never seems to shake. Shadowheart is sullen as she stares down some unseen affront in the middle-distance. And Astarion is splayed over the stones, eyes shut to thin slits. Basking again. Like a damn cat.

Bastard. She could’ve said it. Could’ve said something back at least half as sharp as what he staked her with.

She could’ve. But then, she’d be a hypocrite. Naomi’s lost count of the times she’s tried to tell herself the same things Astarion said so succinctly.

It’s not your fault. Her fingertips brush the scar across her nose. Good gods, get over it.

Alfira was someone she barely knew. She just happened to be the one who opened the gates Naomi had been bracing shut. Music flooded in, and magic with it. Life anew sparked in her veins, and death chased closed on its heels.

There’s never light without shadow. Even in the surface world, soaked in the sun. There’s no more song breaking on the rocks with the waves. No bard dressed in motley, bent by grief over her lute. Only the incessant squawking of birds.

Alfira didn’t deserve her brutal end. Life’s not in the business of doling out deserved ends. That’s the sort of thing Wyll might believe. Or even Gale. But not Naomi. And not Astarion. Not one of them sitting on these rocks, come to think of it.

‘Deserved ends’ are the sort of thing dealt by dumb luck, enterprising hands, and lashing tongues.

Karlach’s feet grow still. She sits up abruptly. “Do you hear that?”

Naomi shields her eyes, squints, and catches sight of distant wings. By the looks of it, the birds have gone to battle over a fish. Their screeches are grating and guttural. Raucous flapping sullies the quiet rush of the tide.

“It’s beautiful,” Astarion whispers, reverent. Naomi ogles at him. His eyes glaze with wonder. His body rises, fluid, as if adrift on a daydream.

Gods below, if that’s his standard, then what does that say about her? The other night, when he said her voice was stunning, Naomi didn’t care that all his other words were half-truths or hollow. She was seen. She was heard. For a whole fucking year, she hadn’t let herself--

“I need to see them,” Shadowheart gasps breathlessly. “The singers.”

“Yes,” Karlach echoes, distant, “we need to go to them.”

Naomi snorts. “It’s a fucking racket, what’s wrong with--”

They rise in unison, legs jerking of their own accord, faces slack and slap-happy. Drunk on nothing at all but damnable noise.

“--you?”

Before she can blink, they’re bumbling down the slope, limp bodies tugged along by a rope unseen.

Naomi’s eyes dart to the beach below. They’re not the only ones set for the shore. Bile burns at the back of her throat. A little tiefling boy wades into the shallows. A new scream scythes the air. The water buffets beneath the beat of wings.

Not birds, after all. Not with gnarled bodies, masked faces, and a call like that.

Shit. Shit. Naomi springs to a stand and sprints for the water.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up!” She spits, but she wrings out the magic tingling in her fingers before it can take. Not yet. She’s too far away.

The little tiefling boy is nearly too far gone. Water laps at his waist. He cranes his chin towards the sky. Screeches scrape the cliffside. Four harpies hover above.

Sand slows Naomi’s stride. The water clouds with it, waves slapping at her companions’ sides as they saunter in. Black talons glint with sunlight as they arc forward and strike.

No! No! Naomi skids to a stop. “ENOUGH NOISE!”

The spell shreds from her throat like a score of claws. It tastes of blood, metallic and tangy. But it’s blissful, it’s blessed, it’s sacred, and it’s sweet. Silence shelters the shore in a shimmering dome. Sound shivers, harmless, across the surface. It reflects back in faint colors, like the rainbow sheen of a soap bubble. And it bounds away again, unheard.

She can’t hear the harpies choke, but seeing is good enough. Their gangly bodies buckle, staggering backwards as the tethers they’d sung snap free. Her companions, too, fumble their footing, dazed. Their features harden with clarity, consciousness. And then, intent. Fury.

Shadowheart draws back from the dome. Righteous retribution shoots from her hands in a brilliant bolt of light. Astarion takes aim after, while the harpy still simmers from Shadowheart’s spell. His arrow sinks the ‘fowl wretch’. Or, maybe it’s his punishing pun that does it.

He doesn’t say his quip out loud. The tadpole thrums in her skull and in the others’, tying together their thoughts, even now, even in Silence. Naomi snorts. The others don’t hear it, but she knows they feel her rebuke just the same.

Well, at least he doesn’t save his cutting words just for her. Naomi uses hers to save him from the scratch of talons raking towards his torso. She steps from the Silence, flutes a few taunting notes, and smirks as the harpy tears through violet, misty magic instead of an arrogant elf.

Movement darts in her periphery. Karlach is a flaming blur. The acrid stench of singed skin follows in her wake. Feathers and flame whirl with a ripping caterwaul.

Naomi’s spots a far smaller figure cowering in the heart of the storm. The tiefling boy’s mouth parts, tears streaming from his eyes. She pants, winded, as if his muted scream punched through her own chest. Mottled wings unfurl behind him, blotting out the sun and bathing the boy in shadow. Naomi surges forward.

She wraps her arms around the boy and drags him towards shore. Wild, wide eyes gaze up at her in terror. I’ve got you, Naomi says, but it stays stuck in her mouth.

An arrow cuts past them. Followed by a sunburst. Followed by a burst of wild, untamed heat.

Sound floods her again. Naomi and the boy find footing on the sand. She’s soaked. In water, in shrill, piercing cries, in gasps for air that aren’t her own. The boy breaks from her grip, pelting for cliffs and the grove beyond them. Naomi follows his path with her eyes while the harpies’ death throes spear her ears. She makes no move to follow after him. He fades from view as the last gag of life leaves the creatures for good.

Good. He’s safe. Naomi heaves a sigh like a boulder rolled uphill. Good.

“See,” Astarion huffs, still managing to sound smug even while breathless. “This is why I do so adore the bard you are, and loathe the cleric you aren’t.”

She smiles, and it’s effortless. Astarion’s answering smirk tries to be sultry. And it would be. Were it not for his once-curly hair hanging limp over his brow like a wet, bedraggled mop.

Naomi shakes with caged laughter. He’s soaked worse than she is, and suddenly far more sour. She never knew how much of him was really just hair, until now, when she sees it plastered to his cheeks. He’s so much shorter when he’s sopping.

A snicker spurts out of her. It wins her a scowl.

“Interesting,” Shadowheart comments dryly. “Looks like you don’t need any healing after all, Astarion.”

“Oh, don’t be so sensitive, dear.”

“He’s right, though,” Karlach says gently, sloshing towards the sand. “You’re exactly what we needed when we needed it.”

“The harpies had no hope of holding you, did they?” Shadowheart says, eying Naomi keenly. “You couldn’t hear their song, could you? You could only hear what it really was.”

Naomi’s laughter settles in her chest. Her eyes wander to the water again. Feathers drift and settle with the blood and corpses on the surface. What macabre confetti they’ve left behind. Her smile dissolves.

Naomi can still hear it. It’s far fainter in her head than before. Still, the song she does and doesn’t know plays on. And she still doesn’t know what it is.

“I’ll meet you back by the grove,” Naomi says with an affable shrug. “Try not to die without me.”

Astarion’s indignation slaps across the cliffs as she goes.

“Wait, you’re not serious?! Shadowheart--! But I’m hurt!”

Her restless feet take her to where they found Alfira. She toes the dirt, but she doesn’t rest where the tiefling did, with her lute on her lap and her head in her hands. Naomi toys with her new flute, flipping it in her grip.

No peace for Alfira. No rest for Naomi.

And, Naomi thinks, with a deep breath, no more sulking, when she skulks away from here. That’s not going to bring the other bard back. It’s like Astarion said.

It’s just going to get someone else killed.

She peers down at the grove, and the tieflings milling about beyond its tangled edges. Her smile flickers to life once more. There’s the boy they saved, down there, dripping over the stone steps. He gestures with wild, windmilling arms for a pair of his peers. They stiffen, bound in suspense by his tale of mortal peril and daring rescue.

A tale for the ages. One he lives to tell.

Chattering interrupts her piece of peace-after-all. A flash of fur catches Naomi’s eye. She turns, too late. Teeth jab at her feet.

“Oh for the love of -- really?”

She kicks. The squirrel flattens to the tree bark with a sickening splat. Her next breath is a horrified choke.

“Do you always face such fearsome foes?”

Naomi’s teeth grate. Of course he saw that. Astarion’s eyes gleam with the glee of an inside joke. One she’s the victim of, maybe. She hadn’t heard him coming, otherwise occupied as she was.

He’s nowhere near dry, but his hair is freshly slicked. It sets in steely, glistening ringlets. He’s stripped off his doublet. He should’ve lost the shirt beneath it, too, for all the good it’s doing him. The white fabric clings, translucent, like a second skin.

As he nears her, she picks up a scent that doesn’t blend with stale seafood or hacked up harpy. A tang of citrus.

Naomi meets his gaze evenly and says, without enmity, “Do you always salt every wound you see, or only when you want something?”

She follows the shape of his swallow in the brief pause he didn’t rehearse. He recovers smoothly a beat later.

“I want what all of us do: to survive this little adventure. It’s nothing…personal, darling.”

It’s not unkind. It’s nowhere near an apology. He knows it. He’s not sorry. But for once, maybe he’s telling her the blunt truth and not just candied twists of it.

Except, this isn’t the only adventure he’s trying to survive. Last night, by the firelight, he’d hinted at more. Came close and cozy with the notion of warming her to…something else. Seeing more of her, he said. The real her. Showing her around the surface.

Because he wants what anyone does: survival.

Whatever else Astarion’s survived, it’s what he hopes to survive still that has him scared. Scared enough to be thinking about it, even with a tadpole in tow. Even more than the tadpole in tow. He’s scared enough to play her harsh or heated or heartfelt to suit his need for someone to hide behind. Whatever manipulation game he means to play, it must seem a small evil to whatever fear towers so tall over his head.

“I am so very relieved to see you so inspired,” Astarion says, chipper. “And inspiring others once again. Perhaps we’re learning from each other. Perhaps we’ve more to learn from each other, before these wretched worms are no longer in our heads, hm?”

His words are steeped in semi-sweetness again. Promises. Innuendo. The carrot to the stick he spoke and stabbed with this morning.

That mouth can do both. When he’s motivated to. When he wants to. When he wants something, Astarion can be whatever he needs to be.

Except for now. He grows sheepish, beneath her skewering stare. Astarion breaks his gaze away with a little huff that’s somewhere between a snicker and sigh.

“Maybe you’re right,” she says, with a softness that turns his cheek her way again. Her eyes flit, briefly, to the settle of his drying curls around his ears.

She feels his gaze between her shoulder blades as they take to the forest path once more. She doesn’t need to look to know he’s looking, long after she’s paid him another glance.

Naomi can do both, too. And more.

She can lash her tongue, and have it strike like a whip. When they join with the others again, and make their way to the blighted village, she wields it, and the goblins bow to the weight.

“You’ll address me properly.”

“O-Of course, True Soul,” the goblin stammers, sniveling.

She can move her mouth and part an army. Not in the name of Eilistraee, or any other gods. In her very own.

Bugbears bar the bridge into the goblins’ stronghold, bristling and brandishing crude clubs embellished with spikes.

“Move,” she says. And they do at once.

Naomi doesn’t notice when her grip grows light. An invisible force swipes the reins from her, so skillfully, she could never have known the difference. Not until they’re halfway across the bridge into the heart of the goblins’ throng.

Naomi’s vision splits into veins of black and white. The whip cracks. Her back bends. And every one of them bows to the stone, shivering.

Groveling, to the will of the Absolute.

It’s the artifact that saves them. That metal sphere is a hero they know nothing about, gone to battle against a foe they can hardly fathom. Her words and wit have nothing to do with what allows them to dust off and carry on across the bridge.

Hundreds await them, within the fortress and without. The courtyard teems with hunger. Naomi sees it in the sheen of beady eyes, pointed teeth, and jagged spears. Something the smoked meats and barreled booze can’t stave off. Violent delight in violent ends. Barely restrained, and begging to burst free.

Her ‘bardest behavior’ could bid the goblins to make way for a band of so-called ‘True Souls’. But Naomi’s words and wit taste dull, at the tip of her tongue. Aftershocks of their unseen assault throb through her skull. Ripples of fear, like static, stand the hairs over her arms.

Her lips could tremble. Her voice might crack. Her limbs hang gangly and weak from the psychic beating they suffered. Bloated in the back of her mind, there’s a part of her that isn’t anything near weak at all. Some facsimile of what was wielded against them. She feels the tadpole unfurl just as she’s about to speak.

And with it comes obedience. Power. Authority.

After, her tongue still tingles with it. Broken is the spell of the Absolute, or rather, stolen. The tadpole recedes with a pleasant, tickling hum. Naomi takes the reins again. Soon enough, nothing needs to leave her lips at all. Doors ground open at their mere approach. Her commands are answered before she can utter them. And the ones she does speak are taken with the utmost dedication.

She tells Loviataor’s priest “hit harder,” and they both learn a new meaning for the words. Black, blue, and violet burst across her vision, like the soon-to-bloom bruises mark even the insides of her eyes. For a second, one blessed second, she doesn’t hear whatever haunted song won’t leave her head. Just a piercing, drowning chime.

Naomi blinks the burn from her eyes and finds Astarion basking again. Not in the sun or stars. In the wake of her.

She gives him a grin that tastes like blood. The flavor lingers when she swallows. “Having fun, are we?”

His eyes are glistening rubies in the torchlight, awash in dark delight. When he smirks, the flame glints off his teeth. “Not as much as you are, darling.”

Naomi doesn’t need the tadpole to talk Volo out of his cage, or to coax where they’re holding Halsin out of their apparent underlings. By the time they leave the fortress, and the sun leaves the sky, the only one who hasn’t budged or bent an inch is the githyanki boring holes into Naomi’s head with a scintillating stare.

“You would lend more of your mind to the ghaik worm?” Lae’zel spits. “Let it speak for you? Think for you? Tsk’va! One would think you all too eager to surrender yourself. One would think you’ve already none of your own mind left to salvage!”

Astarion utters a tired hum. “Oh, you’re a bore. It’s not like she sprouted tentacles. If it’s a power we have, it’s a power we should use.”

“One would think,” Shadowheart says tersely, “that one might be grateful for Naomi’s prowess in persuasion, and her willingness to do whatever it takes to get us to our cure. We’re closer to it, thanks to her.”

“Our cure is with the crèche!”Lae’zel snaps.

“Your crèche’s idea of a cure is likely slitting our throats on sight!”

Naomi drifts, distant, from their bickering. It’s a tired argument, one that snowballs at an alarming yet predictable pace. Instead, she thinks of tomorrow.

They’ll move at dawn, when the drunk are still sleeping. When the guard is lower and the guards are fewer. They know the layout now. They know where Halsin is caged, in the shape of a bear.

What happens when they spring him free could be chaos. It could be quiet as a dagger in the dark. But it will be bloody. And they won’t be able to scrub the stains out of their ‘True Soul’ veneer once they’ve set.

It could be, they’ll have to kill hundreds of goblins. Astarion could be right: it could take hours. Or, their little party could all be dead in a matter of minutes.

So, they’ll strike sure and true. On a full night’s rest with a full night’s magic. For now, they make their way to camp again, under cover of night with their cover still intact.

A stranger in their path stays their steps. Their rest, it seems, will need to wait. Naomi’s hands twitch towards her rapier. It stays sheathed at her hip, for now. The stranger doesn’t bear any weapons except for his sly smile.

And a lullaby.

“The mouse smiled brightly: it outfoxed the cat! Then, down came the--”

“--claw, and that, love, was that. You needed a dramatic entrance to spout children’s rhyme from Cormyr?” Naomi’s fingers fold around the rapier’s handle. Behind her, she hears the others take to arms.

The stranger isn’t moved. He lays a hand to his heart beneath his frilled collar. “Is the entertainer not entertained? Well, far be it from me to disappoint. How about a song for the…reluctant bard?”

The ‘r’ rolls off his tongue like a snarl. Still, he smiles. And then, he sings:

“And when she laid her gaze on me,

I felt myself undone,

For whatever I had been before,

Was gone to dust forevermore…”

His fingers pinch and part in a crumbling motion. It takes every ounce of will for Naomi’s knees not to crumble, too. Her throat stings, dry as bone.

“Well,” he drawls, “it seems I’ve struck you speechless. An introduction, then, while you search for your voice: I am Raphael. Very much at your service.”

Very much a devil. Very hungry for the souls of the so-called True Souls. Flames dance in the blacks of his true eyes, his real form unfurled. As he speaks his verses and his schemes, Naomi’s heart sinks.

He asks: “What’s better than the devil you don’t know?”

She’d rather not know. She’d rather not feel the dread weight making stones of her feet. She doesn’t know how.

But Naomi knows him. In her chest, in something locked there tightly, she knows him. And Raphael knows a song she wrote for one person only. A song she never sang to another soul.

It’s all she can think of, long after they’ve left his lavish hall. She’d guess the same of the others, if she could spare them half a thought. All of them are sunken in silence, taken to their own tents and their own solitude. Contemplating what a devil’s deal might mean for their own ends, and if it’s something they’re willing to add to their own means.

Naomi just thinks of Melle. Of the woman she was, the scar she became, and the song Naomi wrote with the hope of a different ending. The song she wrote for the two of them, before she knew the ending.

Her eyes droop, but she doesn’t dare to sleep. Nightmares might mutilate her memories. Make up newer monsters and fresher terrors. At least, in trance, it’s only old ones she’s fought before. It’s the safer bet.

Tonight, it’s a losing one.

Heat prickles against her cheek. A log snaps then cracks on the smooth swell of a violin. Naomi’s eyes wrench open.

She sees it again, as it was, when all of them were whisked into Raphael’s House of Hope. Velvet drapes hang heavy over rounded archways. Wrought iron criss-crosses the narrow windows. Light leaks between, flushing the tiles in a rosy glow and leaving a sheen on the brass mouldings. As if there’s a hearth without as well as within.

There’s a devil looming over her, as well as casting a long shadow before her. Raphael’s portrait hangs above his hall like the sun hangs in the sky. Naomi fans her face with her hand, feeling faint as the air crackles.

It doesn’t help that she's in a damn gown. It’s cinched at her waist, where near-black feathers flow up in a vee over her breasts to flare just off her shoulders. A silk skirt pours down her legs, leaving a pool of midnight blue gathering at her feet. Firefly hints of silver glint in the dark of it.

Nothing chains her to her chair, but the fabric weighs her like an anchor. Try as she may, Naomi can’t will one muscle to move. She’s seated with her back towards the table, and all its sweet and savory delights piled high on silver platters. Her mouth waters all the same. Hunger twists in her gut like a rag wrung out to dry.

Naomi faces Raphael, in his true flesh, silhouetted against the fireplace. This time, she’s alone in the devil’s home. This time, Raphael speaks only for her.

His black eyes fix to her in a pitying gaze, lips puckered in a pout. “You thought the sunlight would burn it out of you. You thought your goddess could still save you. You’re on the road to Baldur’s Gate now with the hope, oh…” he inhales, eyes fluttering shut. His lips quiver with the pause, relishing his own sudden suck of breath as if it were stoked by the lips of a lover. “...the hope that the city will drown it out of you. Or, drown you for good. Which do you wish for more, I wonder?”

Yes, the city. She’s leaving for the city tomorrow. To see Baldur’s Gate. To see more of the surface than the inside of a tavern tucked away in a hamlet no one’s heard of. To see if what they say is true of the sea: that it can heal. To see if she can--

Raphael leans low before her. His breath reeks of brimstone. “There is nothing and no one in that cesspool that will save you.”

He draws away again, and draws a knife from behind his back. Naomi shivers, even as she sweats.

“So I offer it to you again, my wicked one: salvation,” he says with a sneer, circling her chair to survey the bounty spread across his table. “The sweetest you could dream of in this life you’ve been gifted. This life you’ve yet to pay for.”

Naomi’s lips move, even though she doesn’t make them. Even though she couldn’t make them move again, even if she tried. “No.”

“Deny me and deny yourself,” he says, unperturbed. “Deny the very sacrifice that led to you. One day, you’ll have to pay for it.”

Naomi shifts around in her seat so she can see him before she’s forced to stillness again. Raphael wields the carving knife like it's a wand. She watches the glinting tip of it, spellbound.

He pulls a platter forward. It holds a succulent turkey, crisp skin glazed brown with butter and herbs. Her stomach growls. Unbidden, her tongue swipes across her lips.

“It doesn’t have to hurt,” he says in a sizzling whisper. “It doesn’t have to be another year of songless, sleepless nights, spent shivering, quivering. You did that to yourself.”

The knife dips, and for a blink, the bird's flesh only bends. A futile resistance. The next drag of the blade is effortless. Juices stream from the puncture, red and raw. Naomi feels the seeping as if it’s over her own scalp. Even the air is thick with it. Wet with it.

“...all because, dear wicked one, you deny yourself your violent delights.”

Naomi grips the edge of the chair only to find her knuckles knotting in something cold and damp. She flinches. But it's only dirt her hands are burrowed in. It's only grass she's sitting in. Not some gaudy, gothic hall, overflowing with a decadent bounty, forbidden fruits, and--

And a song. A song she knows, so keenly. It needles her temples. Traipses at the tip of her tongue. It darts away at the slightest hint of a grip. How the fuck does it go?

A chill nips sharply near Naomi’s neck. Only moments before, she was sweltering. Now, she shivers. She quivers. Naomi’s trance breaks in fever sweat slicked over her skin, cut short to the sound of blade scraping free.

Her heartbeat chases after her wayward breath and her racing mind. She’s not asleep. It wasn’t a dream. She was in a trance.

It’s a memory.

Raphael’s nowhere to be seen, though the scent of soot and stone still scorches Naomi’s nose. The only one she sees now is Lae’zel. The githyanki doesn’t speak in poetry like the devil does. She speaks like an epitaph. The sword in her grip knows only one spell: finality. Her yellow eyes are hardened with it.

“I can see it in you,” Lae’zel breathes. “I feel it in me. The change is imminent, as is our doom.”

“No,” Naomi rasps, frailer than she means to. “The druid will help us. We can still fight this. We--”

“We are lost.”

Steel flashes like lightning before her eyes. Naomi’s heartbeat thunders after. Her throat sears. And then it’s wet. Warm. Choking around a swell of thickness.

Lae’zel slumps, limp, into Naomi’s lap. Astarion draws back his dagger, wiping his blade in the grass. Dark scarlet streaks through the green.

A/N: I’m so sorry Lae’zel, my beloved <3 It hurt my heart to let her go, but this is similar to how it happened in my first playthrough, and I wanted to keep the spirit of that story in this one, even with tweaking the details a bit. In my original run, I did a dumb thing and went along with Lae’zel because I assumed she was just testing me. I, uh, thought wrong. Everyone else had to kill her and she wouldn't come back, so I had to wait until my second playthrough to get to enjoy her and all her glory.

Some spooky things starting up in this one. Next one is gonna be juicy ;) Thank you so, so much for reading. And I hope life is being kind to you <3

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion fanfic #astarion x tav #tav x astarion #astarion romance #bg3 #bg3 fanfic #tavstarion #naomi tavriel #midnight chimes #my writing

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