#Percy I advise you to run | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

the-french-belphegor · 3 months

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Making my way (makinmawaayy) through my @critter-genfic-events bingo card, and this one's filling the "fights" slot! Or rather, "post-fight", which they told me works as well. Also it's set way before the start of the stream, when they're all more acquaintances and travelling companions than the friends and family we see later. They're already buds, though, for the most part.

Posting it on AO3 ASAP Now on AO3! Hope Tumblr doesn't hide the post from the tags! 🤞

(oh yeah, side note: I do know that concentration-based spells get dropped when you either don’t roll high enough to maintain it or when you take too much damage – like both invisibility spells do in DnD. But I liked the idea of being so concussed you don’t remember how to drop a spell :3)

—

Scrambled

Scanlan is pretty sure someone’s calling his name in the distance with a certain amount of worry. It’s okay, he thinks but doesn’t say. He’s gonna get back up any time now. He’s fine.

(Scanlan is more than fine, Scanlan is a godsdamn snack, thank you very much.)

In fact, he might even go as far as to let the word drag, let some notes slide a little: fiiiine. Four ‘i’s should about do it.

(Heh, four ‘i’s. Four eyes. That’s Percy. Where’s Percy?)

So, to recap, Scanlan is fine as hell, and he’s okay because he’s always okay, even with a headache so bad he’s pretty sure his brain is leaking out of his ears. Won’t check, though, that might be gross and his stomach isn’t doing too well either at the moment. Barfing while lying on your back? Yeah, no, bad idea. Of all the ways to die, drowning in his own puke is probably around number… sixty-eight.

Sixty-nine would be, of course, a particularly ill-advised tumble with someone with an ungodly number of teeth and a taste for blood, preferably that of a gnome with more curiosity than sense. As always with sex stuff with consenting adults, though, Scanlan isn’t willing to completely dismiss the idea.

Might be fun to try someday, who knows.

When he’s less tired.

Why’s everything swimming?

Actually asking out loud is out of the question, since for some reason his voice can’t even make it out of his throat, let alone his mouth –

(oh fuck no, if I can’t sing I’m toast, if I can’t play I’m dead, if I can’t talk we’re done)

– so at the price of an effort so bad he almost upchucks everything since the invention of breakfast Scanlan pivots his head juuuust a little to the left.

And sees nothing.

Well, no, not exactly. He sees yellowing grass, some dirt, a bit of sky. But nothing where his shoulder should be, or the rest of him.

…Oh yeah. He made himself invisible a while back. Somewhere between Tiberius’ Fireball, Vex’s arrows, and Percy’s pepperbox and its more-or-less controlled explosions. (Or maybe Percy went before him. Right before the world got very loud, very fast, and then very quiet. Somehow there’s a connection between this and that.) Dropping the invisibility looks like a really good idea, if only Scanlan could remember how. As things stand, he can barely remember to breathe. Oh, and also that the warm stickiness soaking up the back of his head and seeping into his collar is Not A Good Thing – not that there’s a lot he can do about that.

Things are rather quiet now. He must’ve missed the end of the fight.

Seriously, though, where’s Percy? Scanlan can’t hear the usual blasts and somewhere in the shattered mess that is his brain there’s a nagging inkling that it’s a bad sign. Or maybe there’s something else poking at the edges of his mind, he doesn’t know. He’s not exactly up to turning stuff over in his head at the moment. Turning his head was hard enough.

He’s just gonna… chill there for a while. Rest his eyes a little bit.

Which is why he doesn’t spot Vex running over until she drops to a crouch next to him and squashes his hand with her knee for five seconds.

Vex’ahlia is sharp eyes, sharp aim, sharp words, sharp everything. Her knees are no exception. Ow.

“Shit shit shit, fucking shitballs,” Scanlan hears her mutter under her breath as her hands find his head with uncanny precision considering she can’t see him. Her ‘t’s are beautifully defined, her vowels clear and precise. It’s a pity she sings so rarely; most performers would kill to have her diction.

“PIKE!” she yells over her shoulder. “OVER HERE!”

Pike, echoes the part of Scanlan’s mind that’s still functional. It would have been a small, pitiful yearning sound if he’d been able to speak. Thank goodness the word doesn’t pass his lips as is. It’s frankly a little scary just how the thought of her – the first in a while that doesn’t feel fractured in some way – quietens the part of him that’s not watching the proceedings with a detached interest. Pike is fun to flirt with and try to charm; she’s beautiful and radiant and strong, anyone with an appreciation for the female form can see that, so it’s not so surprising that Scanlan always feels drawn to her like a sunflower to sunshine. It’s so easy to let himself get starry-eyed over her, even if she’s so completely out of his league it bypasses sad and goes straight into funny. Scanlan probably is in love with her, a little bit, like he’s a little bit in love with everyone. Just… sometimes… sometimes when he calls her the love of his life he’s not sure he’s joking.

The nausea and the waves of blinding pain relent a little.

Pike?

No, Scanlan corrects himself, Vex, who when he manages to focus for more than a second finds his gaze and holds it. Unerringly.

Which must mean… the hour is up. The spell must be wearing off.

Huh.

“There you are,” says Vex, residual magic still shimmering in her fingers after her low-level Cure Wounds. She must really be tapped out.

There is blood in her hair and one of her feathers is bent at the stem, but the most telling cue that the fight went wrong is the brittle quality of her smile. She’s good at putting up a front, almost as good as Scanlan; insight isn’t Scanlan’s forte, let alone when his head feels like it’s just been cracked open like an egg, but sometimes seeing Vex’ahlia slice her way through life like a knife, just as sharp and just as shiny, is like staring into a warped mirror.

She’s good.

He’s better.

(Usually.)

“How’d you find me?” he croaks.

Vex draws back the hand she was using to prop herself with a couple of inches from his head. Her palm is coated with red.

“Head wounds, darling. They tend to bleed rather a lot.” She cocks her head to the side. “How did you even end up all the way here in the first place?”

Scanlan’s memories still feel like a scattered jigsaw, but at least now the pieces are right side up. What he puts together isn’t very glorious. Getting punted into a rock by a giant who only heard you and who was supposed to go down easily isn’t anything to brag about. At least he can always quip about it.

“Well,” he wheezes out with a grin that might work better without the blood in his teeth, “I got got.”

Then he remembers why the giant whirled round blindly and whacked him with his club. He’d been out of any useful magic, trying to sneak up on it with a fucking sword, of all things, because the big dumb fucknut had somehow gotten hold of—

“Shit, Percy – where’s Percy?”

Vex’s own smile gets wry and just a little shaky at the corner.

“He got got,” she says. There’s a story there, but at least Vex doesn’t look like it ended in tragedy. Instinctively Scanlan relaxes into his headache. “Don’t worry, though. Pike reached him in time and Grog and Keyleth got the giant.”

Oh. Good. Percival Freakystein von Mussels Colossal de Rolo III is one scary motherfucker with his pepperbox and his glasses and his devastating one-liners, but he’s still squishy as hell. Plus, well, he’s so young – Scanlan is fairly sure he’s twice, maybe three times older. The kid must be, what, mid-twenties tops? That’s way too young to die, especially having experienced so little of what the world has to offer. Scanlan would bet anything the stuck-up nerd has never taken anyone to bed, for the gods’ sake.

They’re all assholes, in the SHITs, sort of (except Pike, of course, and probably Keyleth too) but Scanlan likes them. If the universe suddenly decides that an asshole has to get killed today, he’d rather it be him rather than one of the others.

Still, nobody needs to know that.

“Worry, me? Please, I never worry.”

“I know you don’t, darling. I’m just updating you on what you missed while you were having a kip.”

Vex’s tone is even, her words light, and yet when Scanlan meets her gaze it’s like crossing blades. Somehow it also feels like grasping hands in reassurance and honestly it unnerves him a little. He prefers to know where they stand, and usually he does: he’ll downplay close calls and tell lewd jokes to alleviate the tension, while she’ll be sarcastic and magnificent and not call him out on his lies on the occasion she sees through them. But sometimes she reminds him that both twins are like blades, swift and sharp in more than one way, and in some of them she’s the sharpest. Gods, she’s terrifying.

He’s saved from having to retort something by the metallic rustle of ring mail over heavy cotton as Pike rushes up to him. Perspiration left traces in the dirt smudged across her face and her dark hair is mussed, whole locks coming out of her braided bun. She smells like sweat and leather and a little like wild strawberries, and she’s the most beautiful thing Scanlan’s ever seen.

Pike doesn’t lose a second with platitudes; she just gives him a very professional once-over, almost clinical in its efficiency, then cups his face with her hands with a look of intense concentration, eyes closed. The healing spell she pours into him feels so potent it’s practically an out-of-body experience. For a couple of seconds all Scanlan feels is warmth, clean and bright and fierce, and when he opens eyes he doesn’t remember closing his ears are still ringing.

Although that might be the blood loss.

Which would also neatly explain how weak he still is, especially when Pike’s face goes soft.

“You okay?” she asks quietly.

There are so many answers he could give her.

I am now – with a wink and a nod.

I want to have your babies – with a theatrical gesture that will make her laugh.

I am if you are – with his heart in a smile. (NOPE.)

“I’m always okay,” Scanlan finally says with a grin, hoping for an echo.

Which he gets, so points to him for being awesome. Pike Trickfoot should always have a reason to smile.

Vex snorts and somehow still manages to make it sound classy as hell.

“Sure. Which is why the only reason I found you at all was the random pool of blood on the ground thirty feet from where we thought you were. You’re lucky I’m a good tracker.”

“Fair, fair,” he says with a careful nod. “Although that could’ve been from some forest critter that met a grisly end.”

“Please, this much blood, and this fresh? How dumb do you think I am?”

Scanlan sits up on his elbows and counts off on his fingers. “One, that’s gross – two, ‘dumb’ is the last of things that you are and you know it all too well – three, thank you for saving my life – four, that’s still so gross, oh my gods. What’d you do, sniff out my lifeblood?!”

“It was me or Trinket,” says Vex, looking way more smug than she has any right to. “It just so happens I beat him at the game of ‘spot the invisible gnome’. You know, before he dies on us.”

“Oh no. What a loss that would be. Such a young, useful bear, too.”

“How scrambled did your brains get? I meant you, you dick.”

Her peeved expression eases just as quickly as the smugness hardened into a glare, and she smiles at Pike before straightening up and striding off toward the others. Her perfect hips swing subtly as she walks, in an unassuming way Scanlan knows from experience requires a lot of work. He’d find her so hot if she wasn’t so scary.

(Well, he does find her extremely hot, if only because she could break him with either a gesture or a word, but despite popular belief Scanlan Shorthalt isn’t that reckless. Even he can weigh the pros and cons occasionally before deciding that diving in headfirst isn’t a good idea.)

There’s a snort on his right, and his whole world is Pike again.

“I really don’t get your little war on Trinket,” she says, but there’s a twinkle in her eyes.

“When he starts landing actual hits on whatever we’re fighting or even just holding his own more than two minutes, I might reconsider. Right now he’s just a glorified pack mule.”

“He’s plenty useful. He gives the best massages, for one thing. And he’s a good boy.”

I can be a good boy, Scanlan almost retorts, but refrains at the last minute. The lie is too big to work, even as a joke, and he doesn’t like the sliver of truth behind it, like the glint of a blade. So he settles for a fake disgruntled huff and a grin.

Nothing falls off as he picks himself up with Pike’s help, so that’s good news. He just has to suppress a shiver at the congealed blood, now gone cold, that makes the top of his shirt stick to his back. His ponytail is a mess, a clump of matted hair half glued to his neck. Ugh, he hates having to wash blood out of his hair.

His usual armour is back on, though. Pike doesn’t seem to notice the shiver; the look of slight worry she gives him has a general fight-almost-gone-very-bad flavour of ‘are you okay’ to it.

“I am glad you didn’t get scrambled,” she says in a rare mix of bluntness and thoughtfulness that’s uniquely Pike. “You know, for good. I mean, you looked pretty bad there for a moment.”

“Aw, Pikey-pants,” Scanlan says in a singsong voice, “don’t tell me you were worried.”

Pike gives a half shrug, which he feels because she’s thrown one of his arms over her shoulders and is supporting some of his weight.

“Oh well, you know,” she says in an offhand voice, a little high-pitched, “a little? You’re never silent this long, and then Grog and I couldn’t find you, and then Keyleth said she heard the giant hit something with his club, and then—”

“Well, you don’t need to worry about me, okay? Never worry about me.” He smiles, big and toothy, to counter the frown she gets sometimes when he says things like that. “I mean, there’s really no need. I’m awesome! I’m Burt Reynolds!”

This at least gets a smile with the hint of a smirk. Still sweet, though, because Pike could make (and has made) even the bluntest blow feel sweet.

“Esquire.”

Scanlan nods carefully, mock-serious. “Right, right, ‘Esquire’.”

“Shouldn’t forget that bit.”

“No, I should not.”

She smiles at him, sharp but warm, and there it is again – the sudden urge to say something stupid, make a joke, deflect, like raised hackles, because what if she gets the true measure of him? (‘And doesn’t like what she sees’ goes without saying. There’s a reason Scanlan spent the last couple of decades carefully building himself up.)

Being a charismatic bastard means sometimes you can afford to coast on charm alone. He grins and changes the subject, as swift and dextrous as a knife in Vax’s hand, and that’s it. Matters closed.

Honestly, he’d have to be a lot more scrambled than that for it not to work.

“No, Grog, there’s already a troll dick in the bag of holding, we’re not keeping a giant dick as well!”

…Plus there’s always the next distraction. That works, too.

—

(until it doesn’t, but he doesn’t know that yet!)

I started writing this on a whim and then couldn’t decide who I wanted to find Scanlan between Vex, Vax and Pike – so I decided to sort it out with a d20, set the DC at 20 (“hard”, because he’s invisible) and roll a perception check for each member of VM using their proficiencies at level 10 (the earliest character sheets of theirs Critrolestats have). Both Pike and Grog rolled a natural 1 :’( Keyleth and Percy got a 9, and even with +10 and +7 respectively for perception they failed the check; Vax got 26 (rolled a 16 with +10 perception) and then Vex got the same number but by rolling a nat 20! Plus her passive perception is 22, so that makes sense. And she was top of my list anyway, so ^^

(I spun the whump wheel a couple of times, thinking I’d get a good handful of prompts for some short snippets (like <1k words) and then happened on “concussion” and. Well. Someone clearly had a lot of thoughts about that one...)

#critical role #vox machina #scanlan shorthalt #vex'ahlia #pike trickfoot #pikelan #(sorta)#critter genfic bingo #fanfiction

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saintsenara · 1 month

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for 16 of the very normal asks, rather than an illicit substance, write them a prescription, suggest a course of treatment, or give them a referral

screaming! thank you very much for this cunningly-adapted question from the very normal fic writer ask game, anon!

16 [asenora's version]. write each of your fics (or a selection of them) a prescription, course of treatment, or referral to a specialist

well. let's do this for my main multi-chapter wips. plus a couple of extras. for fun.

---

the plot of one year in every ten hinges on harry displaying a run of extremely reckless behaviour - which builds on symptoms evident since his childhood such as impulsivity, fidgeting, hyperfocus, difficulty concentrating on tasks he finds uninteresting, irritability, and so on.

all of which is to say... he's clearly got attention deficit hyperactivity disorder. 50mg lisdexamfetamine every morning.

---

voldemort - at least as we see him in scylla and charybdis - isn't going to bother following up with a psychiatrist [which i doubt any psychiatrist considers a great loss] and so nothing is going to be done about the extremely sinister manifestations of his complex post-traumatic stress disorder [which looks, if you're so inclined, quite a lot like antisocial personality disorder... often known as sociopathy].

he might want to go and have his atrial fibrillation looked at though - even if his canonical fear of doctors isn't going to make him the easiest person to give an ecg...

[and, as always, it probably wouldn't hurt him - or snape - to go and see a priest...]

---

sirius in the war of the roses has a leg injury i'm keeping obscure as a future plot-point for now. he also has a kidney infection - luckily he hasn't died in the department of mysteries so he can lie on the sofa feeling sorry for himself until his course of antibiotics is done.

lupin won't visit him once.

---

the titular subluxation is probably going to need surgery, i fear - especially because rodolphus won't give up brandishing his wand at people he'd like to kill, which is aggravating the injury.

i'm not sure how such an avowed blood-supremacist would feel about muggle inventions such as x-rays or mri scans, though. he's struggling through with his sling and his pain relief potions, like thousands of stubborn idiots before him.

all percy needs is a backbone, but you can't get those on the nhs yet.

---

a caesarian section from someone who actually knows what they're doing comes too late for merope in the shack at the end of the lane, but hopefully she's able to heal from her birth trauma and smack dumbledore in the face for blaming her for her own death in the afterlife.

---

i am invested in the headcanon that walburga black suffered from post-natal depression - as seen in lamentation and nor all that glisters gold - and i think that antidepressants and a series of sessions with someone who [very much unlike orion] actually listens to her would work wonders.

---

and poor wee tom is wracked by scarlet fever in the velveteen rabbit. this is easily treatable nowadays with antibiotics. in the 1930s, the doctor who visits the orphanage [and decides to charge a pretty penny for it] can only advise mrs cole to wait and see whether he pops his clogs in the night.

i'm not saying that - had he gone through childhood in the post-penicillin age - tom would have had less of a thing about death... but i'm also not not saying that...

[other answers from this ask game]

#asks answered #very normal fic writer asks #enjoyed this far more than i should

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forevfangirlwrites · 10 months

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i can see you

In all fairness, he's the one who checks his phone. She watches the panic rise to his face and just how quickly he exits the room. It would be impressive but it's literally his job to be fast and unseen, so she's duly not impressed and definitely does not think of all the other ways this skill of his is useful.

The meeting ends about thirty seconds later so it's not like he misses much anyway. She files out of the conference room with everyone else, trying to hide the smile on her face.

(Well, half the people actually move towards the leftover donuts which solidifies her thoughts that no matter how top secret your organization might be, conference room donuts are a constant in America).

She runs into him exiting the bathroom down the furthest hall, looking a lot calmer than he had a minute ago, and flashes him a bright smile. He scowls back.

"What the hell was that?" he whisper-yells at her. Thankfully the hall is empty, so she takes a step closer as she responds.

"Why would you think it was true? Who have you been kissing?"

He frowns, crossing his arms. "You know who—"

She cuts him off. "I'm not wearing lipstick today and I definitely haven't been near your neck so why would you think…" She purposefully trails off, shooting him a look.

The thing is, she already knows. Knows by the way he had been looking at her earlier that his mind had gotten farther along than they actually had, so texting him he had lipstick on his neck when that hadn't even been a possibility today had been enough to trigger him.

He's not stupid. She knows within a few seconds that he's figured it all out and his expression changes to something that makes her shiver with anticipation.

"Don't you think you're teasing too much today?" he asks taking a step closer.

The hallway is still empty, but they really should move this somewhere else or someone is going to find out.

But she can't help herself.

"And what are you gonna do about it?"

—six months earlier—

Some families have a convenience store they pass down the family line, hers uses a convenience store as a front. She wasn't even allowed to know what was truly going on until a few years ago when she graduated college.

Even now, as she follows her uncle through the halls, she still doesn't know everything. She technically can't. Some of the missions are too secret even for her status.

By now she's learned most of the ropes, having gone through months of training, and she's about to get handed the first case she gets to manage.

"Magnus will be your mentor through this one, just there to keep an eye out and advise if needed," her uncle says as they enter the conference room.

She's not surprised. Coffee with Magnus had already confirmed what she's suspected, and he's assured her this was just the normal process that he'd gone through too.

Her uncle seems to be waiting for a reaction and when he finds none, he nods. There are many small tests like this that she's noticed and so far, she's done a good job at passing all of them.

Magnus enters the room a moment later with a file in hand, shooting her a smile.

"Ready?"

She nods. Not what she thought she'd be doing after graduating, but it's exciting and new enough for her to be invested.

"Just waiting on Percy—and here he is." Magnus smiles at the man who just entered the room and holy shit.

KEEP READING ON AO3

#percy and annabeth #percabeth #percabeth fic #percabeth au #how we could have met

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miramilocamimira · 3 months

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Prompt time again!!!

What if instead of the gods going to fight back Typhoeus, only Zeus does, again? What if he's terrified, shaking, and can't show it, as he watches his family run off again? The lingering feelings of resentment and abandonment, the words he wants to say get gagged by his own mind as he watches them leave. At how they are free to run away and stay safe. How guilt bubbles up along with fear.

After all, how can those you love stay safe if you fail? How can he be upset that they choose to cower when it is he who gives them that option? But the relief that comes at knowing they'd be safe for even a minute longer stops him from speaking. He steels his nerves, grasps his bolt, and meets the creature that had nearly ruined him before.

———

Then Percy asks Poseidon to help him.

———

What if when Poseidon gets to the fight? He's there just in time to see Zeus on the ground with Typhoeus moving towards him. He can see his brother shaking and concern courses through him.

“Once again they leave you to me.” Gaia’s youngest speaks without emotion. “You fight for those that do not fight with you. A pity, I suppose.” Zeus attempts to scramble away but the beast grabs his leg. “Unlike you, though, I will not make the same mistake.” The sky king responds with a verbal middle finger.

Typhoeus grins and Zeus, his brother, his little brother howls. Someone whom everyone called the strongest god, someone who many believed it was impossible to hear scream. To make a sound so haunting, so anguished, as Typhoeus ripped the tendons from one of his legs.

The thing in front of him reaches over for Zeus’ other leg. He doesn't think he's ever felt so angry before. The feeling grows, rising over the limit, Poseidon blasts the beast off of and away from the sky god.

He wastes no time and moves between the two. His baby brother behind him chokes out his name and he can see that the tendons weren't all that were hurt. Zeus’ tear-stained face, the various wounds from battle.

In this moment, he is more thankful for having Percy than any other hero he's sired before. Zeus truly thought he'd lose here and with it, everything. And if his son hadn't brought him out to help…

“You would dare.” Poseidon growls.

——

The dirt beneath them gives under the fury of the earthshaker. Above it darkens as winds loyal to the Stormbringer, ally with the thundering clouds. The Cyclopes of Poseidon join the fray.

——

No no nonononono, why was Poseidon here? Typhoeus was dangerous. No. No. He has to focus. This is… it's good- everything is going to be fine. Zeus still has a working leg and two arms. He's not done for yet.

He forces himself up and grabs his bolt. He will not let Poseidon do this alone. Not like he did.

—

They won. The fact that Typhoeus was once again defeated allows his breath to slow. His good leg, weak from fear, gives way once the adrenaline stops. He curses.

They still need to get back to Olympus and he's so weak that he can't get his body to rise. Zeus hears some movement behind him and yet he cannot gather the strength to care. His body is still trembling as he tried his best to wipe away the tears that had fallen.

Later, he will advise himself to pay more attention to his surroundings. This, of course, is due to his second eldest brother. While he was not paying attention, Poseidon decided to come over and pick him up.

He can't help the noise that comes out. Thankfully, the older doesn't comment but his face still heats up. Poseidon has one arm under his legs and another around his ba- freaking bridal style?!?

“Put me down! Poseidon, put me down now!” The older ignores him, asking his army if any had seen where the tendons ended up. Zeus moves around, well, he tries to. The grip on him tightens and Poseidon takes it a step further by using a hand to bring the younger’s head to his shoulder. A young cyclops, he believes is named Tyson, comes up with the tendons and hands them over.

“Apollo,” says the most annoying individual Zeus has ever had to live with. There's a moment before he can feels his son’s gaze shift over to them. “Meet me at Olympus.”

He tries again to get the sea god to put him down and he gets shushed. SHUSHED. Like a child. The king of gods has never felt so humiliated. Tendons of one leg in hand, held in that gods-be-damned princess carry, and a face he's certain is strawberry red.

It's in that situation that Poseidon teleports them to the building beneath rather than Olympus. A barrier or something must have been placed but Apollo is there and wastes no time in directing them where to go. Zeus would try to ask for updates on the battlefield but his son is in doctor mode and would just refuse to answer anyway.

When they get to where his son has deemed well enough to stitch him back up, Poseidon still needs to be convinced to set him down. Even when he does he hovers over him despites Zeus telling him to go. Multiple times.

Eventually, he gets Poseidon to go on the condition that he is immediately informed when it was done.

Apollo is steadier than Hermes was. But tendons are tricky. Zeus is just glad it was only one leg this time.

“He's worried.” The sky god just barely hears his son’s words. “Uncle P has rarely ever refused to leave when I ask. I- Father, how bad was it that uncle…?”

“It was nothing.” He lies. He still remembers his heart racing, the bolt nearly falling out of his hand from his shaking, the thoughts that plagued him. “He's being weird.”

It doesn't look like the sun god believes him. Yet he is not questioned further. He does not go to Poseidon when Apollo is done.

Instead, he feels the call of the hearth and brings himself to the throne room. He follows it. The room is damaged, demigods before him, and his fellow immortals having appeared. He glances at Poseidon.

Zeus is a king. He is their king. He does not gulp upon seeing the look on his brother’s face.

#mylo prompts #mylo prompt #pjo fandom related #zeus #zeus & Poseidon #sibling rage #when the older sibling appears outta fucking nowhere with the goddamn steel chair #jk no actual chair a were involved #Poseidon & Zeus #Poseidon #Au Typhoeus v Zeus ii #mylo writes #mylo wrote #mylo sorta wrote #mylo sorta prompted

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twoidiotwriters1 · 7 months

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Daughter of Olympus (Leo Valdez xFem!Oc)

A/N: My favorite thing to do is hurt my OC's and force them to keep fighting to show how badass they are and they never disappoint I love my babies -Danny Words: 1,959 Series' Masterlist Previous Chapter / Next Chapter Listen to: 'Make Me An Option' -by Carousel

XIX. Why Am I Still Here? Just to Suffer?

When I walk into the cabin Silena's nowhere to be found, but a couple of my siblings are there.

"You," Drew gives me a nasty glare.

I stop and look at her. "What?"

"What are you wearing?"

In case you're curious, it's Percy's old shirt and a pair of singed shorts. I'm also using second-hand Converse that have not been washed since I first got them six months ago, and now have been completely ruined after an empousa tried to kill me.

"I was running for my life, sorry if I look messy," I scowl.

"You should be," my sister makes a face. "You need to throw all that away."

"No?"

I make my way to my usual bunk bed to tidy things up, but as soon as I put my stuff down, Drew gets in my way.

"You can't sleep there."

I stare at her with a frown. "Why?"

"Because it's near the window, and if someone sees you they'll think we're all as ugly as you," some of my siblings gasp, it's forbidden to call each other ugly. "I'm done with your lack of Aphrodite etiquette! You're covered in dirt and bruises, your hair is always in that hideous ponytail, and your hands—ugh!" Drew cringes in disgust. "Casey, hide her away!"

Casey grabs my stuff with an absent look in her eyes "This way, Ara..." She puts my bag at the back, where the oldest bunk beds are set.

"She's a charmer, don't listen to her!" I argue. "You can't do this, Drew! You're not in charge!"

One of my brothers hesitates. "You're also a charmer... Why would we listen to you?"

They look at us in confusion. You see, being a charmer isn't as common as you'd expect. The ones who get this gift, most times, they're manipulative people. Drew is my age, but I'm smaller. Percy and I met when I was slightly shorter than him, now I barely reach his chest. Drew sees me as an easy target, and it seems I've pushed the last of her buttons.

"Listen, slug," she speaks to me in a threatening voice. "I advise you to shut up and do what I say."

"You're not a counselor," I say, voice quivering with anger.

"So? If you don't like it, you can sleep outside. And don't even think about telling Silena," Drew raises her voice. "We hate rats here, don't we guys?"

There is a murmur of agreement. Tears swell up in my eyes and I leave the cabin determined to find our oldest sister. I don't look for Chiron or Lily. I want to find Silena, but my feet take me straight to cabin three where Percy and Tyson are.

I crash against Percy sobbing my eyes out, shaking with rage. "Ara!" He holds my face. "What happened?"

I'm trying so hard to be taken seriously, so I don't have it in me to explain, it's shameful. I know he'll try to confront Drew, and I don't want her to mess with his love life. I don't want to cause more trouble for anyone. I'll be the one who takes care of this.

"I thought Nico would be back by now!" I lie.

"Grover would let us know if that happened, Ara," he says, rubbing my back. Percy's feeling guilty about this already, but at least I'm not adding a new problem to the list.

I nod, trying to get a hold of myself. "I was hoping things would get better..."

He pats my shoulder. "You know, I thought about it, and we can ask Quintus if he can give you extra lessons?"

I clean my nose with the hem of my shirt. "Lily suggested that too."

"She's as smart as Annabeth," he smiles.

I look at the Cyclops next to Percy. "Hi, Tyson."

"Hi!" He reaches out so I hold his hand, though my whole palm can only wrap around his thumb. "Don't be sad, I'll make you a sword."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Percy replies.

Hedge sits up groggily. "Did I do this?" His energy comes back in typical Hedge fashion, and he lifts up his club. "Yeah, you wanted some hoof? I gave you some hoof, cupcakes! Who's the goat, huh?" He starts dancing, flipping off every mount of wet clay that encounters.

Jason bursts out laughing.

"Coach," Leo raises his voice. "Coach! Your MVP has a broken arm!"

Hedge looks at Ara. "What?"

Tristan McLean gets up a little further ahead. He's very weak, and not all there. "Piper? Pipes, what—what is—" The girl runs and holds him as tightly as she can.

"We need to get him out of here," Jason says, his laughter quickly dying.

"Yeah, but how?" Leo helps Ara to sit on a rock so Hedge can examine her. "He's in no shape to walk."

The helicopter gets closer and Ara looks up. "You think this will be in the news? Man, don't want my mom to find out..."

Leo frowns. "Your mom sent us here."

"I meant my adoptive mom," she groans. "Oh crap, if the lightning marks don't go away... If she sees me like this she'll freak out..."

"Worry about that later," Jason tells her. "Leo, can you make us a bullhorn or something? Piper has some talking to do," he points to the helicopter.

"What about me?" Ara scowls.

"You're not making any unnecessary efforts for the next hour. I'm readjusting your bones, your nervous system is in trouble," Hedge informs her. "I can immobilize you, but I can't heal this."

Her stomach churns with anxiety. She needs her arms to fight, and to forge. She could do without a leg, but her hands...

"Hey, you'll be fine," Jason places a hand on her good shoulder and squeezes reassuringly. "You're tough, it'll take more than lightning to get you out of the fight."

Ara nods, not entirely convinced. Peptalks used to work just fine, a few compliments, some hyping, and she was ready to go, but now... Is this how it feels to grow up, or did she make a mistake?

Percy loses it completely after he dreams Nico is trying to bring his sister back. Now he's certain the boy's trying to kill one of us, so he pushes me to train harder. There are other pending businesses as well, though, much more important than I: the labyrinth and Grover's search.

Annabeth finally gets to lead a quest and she asks us to go with her. And notice how I said us. She's asked me to come too. The last thing Percy wants is to offer me to Nico on a silver platter, but Annabeth says I'm a good charmer and I won't be easily confused inside the maze, which is true. The labyrinth will have a hard time trying to distract me.

"Also," she ruffles my hair. "I promised I would bring her. What do you say, Birdy?"

I love Annabeth, she's always giving me opportunities to prove myself, even if she doesn't believe I can do it. The important part is to figure out my own limits. Besides, she and Percy are well-trained and we're traveling with a cyclops. I'll be looked after by the people I trust most in the world.

Lily's even more excited than I am, she believes training can only take me so far, just like Annabeth. She thinks the real experiences are out there.

The girl hands me a small but thick book. "The maze is full of monsters, it's the biggest challenge any hero can face nowadays. I'm very happy for you."

Trust me, she's not being sarcastic.

She grabs my shoulders and squeezes. "You survive the labyrinth, you can do anything, Ara. Find Nico and bring him back to safety." Lily sounds so confident that I believe her.

The book she gives me is from the private collection of her cabin, it's a big deal. I press the book against my chest, eyes bright with affection. "I'll bring him back," I promise. "And I'll read this whole thing too."

Lily chortles. "At least one of those things ought to happen. May wisdom and courage guide you, Queen B."

Michael approaches and hands me the dinosaur-shaped bag Percy gave me on Valentine's Day. My teddy bag perished during the first half of the year, hence why Percy got me a new one. The T-rex is packed with first-aid stuff but still has room for Lily's book.

Mike pats my shoulder. "Come back alive, okay?"

I hug him. "I always do."

Once everyone's in the helicopter, Leo takes the seat next to Ara. He's taking care of her, and she doesn't know if it's out of guilt, or if there's something else he's finally allowing himself to act on.

Ara shifts in her seat trying to get comfortable. Her skin is still glowing silver, but it looks dimmer than before, maybe that's stopping her from feeling pain.

"Stop that!" Leo scolds her anxiously.

She frowns. "Stop what?"

"If you can't feel, you can't know if you're making it worse," he eyes her as if trying to make sure her bones are all in place.

"I know being hit by lightning is rough, but I was not run over by a train, so I think I can move a little without causing internal bleeding," she replies irritated.

In front of them, Piper is talking to her dad quietly, trying to ease him. Jason keeps his eyes on the view below, while Hedge rummages through the medical supplies in the aircraft to see if there is something that can help Ara and Piper's father.

"Hey, the bombs you gave me... Did you make those?" Leo asks.

Ara nods. "Your dad must've put them in my bag..." She looks down at her T-Rex, which is scorched and missing its tail. "It's all busted again, Mom had fixed it so nicely..."

She pouts, and Leo hurries to distract her. "How did you come up with the design? I mean, they were small and light but really powerful..."

"Charles Beckendorf," she says hoarsely. "He gave me a notebook with tons of his ideas sketched out. Jake, Nyssa, Lily, and I built those bombs..."

"That's awesome," Leo admits.

"I changed the design so we could use water as well as fire," she adds. "They were meant to hold Festus under control, but I didn't use them because I was afraid to make him short-circuit or something... they're still a prototype."

"And they ended up working perfectly, they saved our lives," Leo responds, nudging her healthy arm gently and looking at her with genuine admiration.

"Yeah, but I might not be able to build something like that again if it turns out my arm's dead," her voice breaks. "How am I supposed to look after all of you if I can't even look after myself?"

Leo scoffs. "Are you kidding? You killed a cyclops—heck, you slapped a werewolf with a piece of scorching hot lumber! Sunshine, girls like you are the stuff of daydreams. You're a hero."

Ara reaches for Leo's hand and gives it a gentle squeeze as a thank you, leaning her head on his shoulder. "Well, if everything goes as planned, maybe Phoebe can heal me after we free Juno."

Leo groans. "Those hunters are mean, I don't know why you like them."

"Artemis said I would've made a fine hunter, so watch your mouth," she snorts. "I don't think Nico would've forgiven me had I joined the hunt, though..."

"Nico?"

"The son of Hades," Ara looks up and tilts her head trying to remember. "Didn't I mention him before? The aviator jacket I brought is his. I'm sure I mentioned it."

She's holding Leo's hand still, and she feels a brief twinge of something, but she can't fully identify it, it's too quick. He lets go of her, pulling out random stuff from his tool belt to keep his hands busy.

"So the hunters didn't get you to join," Leo looks at her in a weird way. "Why's that?"

Ara shrugs. "I wouldn't give up love, not even for a goddess."

"Hah," he says, but it's not his real laughter.

Next Chapter ->

Taglist.

@siriuslysirius1107 @ask-giggles1303 @ash-the-hoarder @im-planning-something-look @bandshirts-andbooks @coolninjapaper @thewaterlily @whenisthefall @1randomcomic @you-bloody-shank @sunflowergraves @owlalex44 @taylordaughter @typicalsolangelolover @writingmia @espressopatronum454 @slytherinnqueen @orbitingpolaris

#twoidiots writing #pjo fanfic #pjo hoo toa #pjo fandom #percy jackson and the olympians #leo valdez x oc #leo valdez fanfic #heroes of olympus #doo

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neuromuse · 11 days

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FINALLY I CAN TALK ABOUT MY AU

This has been rotting in my head for like a year at this point, and I am not gonna do justice in this one post but!! Let's talk about Percy's Mercury!Bart Allen Au.

So the idea of Bart taking Max's mantle is not my own original idea, I see it all the time on comic book twitter and tumblr and it's a very common concept and it makes a lot of sense. Given how Bart failed Terrifically at being the flash, and so if he were to grow out of the Impulse title and role, I think this would be that story (if that makes any sense??). Cue: my rambles

So there's a lot of parts where I could start this AU, but hear me out, what if we start with an alternate ending to Mercury Falling? Inertia pulls a rotting Max Mercury into the speedforce and Impulse barrels through to try and save his parental mentor figure. Bart canonically wants to save both Thad and Max, and I think at the state Bart was with his training meant that the ability of him saving either of them when all chaos breaks loose in the speedforce is incredibly thin. In a good ending Bart ends up saving Thad and Max and there is a possible start of Thaddeus redemption arc, in the real ending we got Bart saves Max and Thad poofs into speedforce dust, and in a bad ending Bart watches Thaddeus and Max fade in front of him.

Can you take a guess at which one I'm gonna pick for this AU? What can I say, fuckers love angst (I am fuckers).

Ok so Bart crawls out of the speedforce, torn in shambles and in front of him is Helen and Max's colleague who was attempting to treat him. They all stare at each other with thick disbelief of what had just happened, and neither of the adults can find it in themselves to ask the quivering teen in shambles the thick details. All they can manage is to pick up the boy and comfort him, rest assured he is safe at the end of the day. The rest of the details follow out similar to the end of Impulse, where when Max goes missing the Allen family decide to assign Jay Garrick as Bart's caretaker since he can continue mentoring him and be the best fit. When Bart moves in with the Garricks, across the country and away from his school friends and Helen, he is still injured and recovering, which he shouldn't be injured since speedsters usually only take like what? a few hours and they're back on their speedy feet? Jay speculates Bart still has broken bones because they not only settled in the wrong spots, making it impossible to make a proper recovery (unless he wants to repetitively break the same bones until they set them in the right spots) or because the injuries forming in the speedforce threw the body and metabolism in for a loop.

Either way, from this point on the canon stays loosely the same. Bart stays with Jay, learns with him, and some Young Justice shenanigans ensue. Up until we get to around the Flash Rebirth comic, I'm gonna mess around with this point. Wally notices that when Barry comes back the speedforce is acting very strange again, and so does Barry as they both hear the souls of Max and Johnny Quick in the speedforce. This peaks Bart's curiosity, and just like when he was a younger kid he's gonna try to make a run back into the speedforce to check it out. Everyone advises Bart not to run back into the speedforce, a whole dictionary's worth of reasons why it's not a good idea, but Bart will stay stubborn and keep working his way up into breaking that barrier.

Bart eventually enters the speedforce looking for Max, and he enters the speedforce a handful of amount of times before finding him. He treats these visits like entering a containment zone, enter for only a short time and once anything feels funny evacuation ASAP. When he finds Max, on his seventh run through, the man is ethereal, what was a conduit of the speedforce is now a spectral image of what the speedforce captured him as. The two manage to hold conversation in a thick maelstrom of kinetic energy, which now limits their time as Bart is starting to get battered up for being a freshie to the intense form of travel.

It was obvious that Max couldn't go back to earth with Bart, as his body wasn't the same and it would put the two in a whole bunch of unnecessary issues. When it's getting to that point where Bart is hitting that upper limit of speedforce exposure, he asks Max if he could see him soon. In the typical always cryptic Max manner, he just laughs and puts a phantasmic hand on Bart's shoulder and tells him that he'll know where to find him. This is what I'd consider to be the transfer of "zen speedforce master" powers to Bart, and it kinda fucks him up you know, it's a lot of beyond radioactive energy being transferred into one of the most unstable conduits. He's gonna knock out and wake up on the floor of Jay's basement with the ability to feel everything moving, and at what speed they're moving.

The shuffling of Jay and Joan cooking dinner together is magnified in a sense that even Clark Kent couldn't understand it, he could clock down Wally running to the Titan's tower, he could feel Tim Drake grapple building to building. It's a lot to take in, but he could also very faintly feel a swirling force in him, a very soothing force that reminds him so faintly of that house in Manchester, Alabama.

#dc #impulse #max mercury #impulse 1995 #jay garrick #dc impulse #Impulse AU #ohmygod this writing is horrible #i just had to get this out there #i will maybe write a fanfic for this

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behindthewox · 1 month

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NEMESIS, goddess of revenge

In Greek mythology Nemesis is the name of the goddess of revenge and vengeance. The Romans called her Invidia, which is the latin word for envy. She had two brothers named Charon (ferryman to the dead) and Hypnos (the personification of sleep), and her sister Eris is the goddess of Discord.

What is Nemesis?

In Resident Evil 3: Nemesis the main antagonist is named Nemesis T-Type, nicknamed the Pursuer. He is presumably named Nemesis after the Greek goddess of vengeance. Nemesis T-Type is one of the two greatest of all bio-weapons created by the Umbrella Corporation.

Can Nemesis be good? In Rick Riordan's series Percy Jackson and the Olympians Nemesis is initially portrayed as a bad character, but it is later on pointed out that she is also the goddess of balance. The balance between good and evil is a necessity, and without balance there'd be neither good nor bad. While she's not a typically "good" character and may fall on the "evil" side in many aspects, good would probably not exist without her and the balance she keeps between good and evil.

Is it normal to have a nemesis? Most libraries will probably have a copy of the Agatha Christie novel Nemesis. If you are a main character it is highly advised to have a nemesis, especially if your story is about the fight between good and evil. It is not normal to have a proposed dwarf star from the Sun's extreme outer orbit in your possession. The asteroid in the main belt, 128 Nemesis, is probably best left where it is.

What is going on here?

Are you wondering what the eff I'm going on about? This is a quick example of what an SEO blog post could look like, using the keyword "nemesis" and a bit of googling to find the most commonly asked questions and related searches. The closer you can match what people will search for, the better. SEO blogposts is a new requirement for all sites, calling for 2 blogposts per week using keywords that the Mugs send out each week. The keyword must be used at least 7 times, including headlines. It's a pretty standard SEO structure.

It's tricky to write a good blog post using the SEO requirements, but the point with SEO isn't that the blog post has to be good - it just has to contain certain words a certain number of times. If it feels forced and awkward that's because it is pretty forced and awkward. Admittedly, this example is not a serious attempt at making a SEO blogpost. This is a me making a bad example on purpose to make a point. But I am still following the instructions and meeting (surpassing, actually) all the requirements. As far as SEO goes, it's an excellent example. Some people might even find it somewhat amusing.

SEO - friend or nemesis? SEO stands for Search Engine Optimisation and it's all about getting your website or article onto the first page of results on the online search engines like Google. It's a pretty big deal. If someone searches "roleplay forum percy jackson" we'd want World of Olympus to be the top result, right? Without SEO it could easily end up at the bottom of the page and how many people will scroll that far? Not many. SEO is a really big deal.

[NOTE: I am not an expert on this and with only mere hours of research under my belt on such a complicated thing as SEO, it's very possible that my understanding and portrayal of it might not be entirely accurate. If I'm waaay off, please correct me.]

So by following the new blog rules and squeezing in keywords wherever possible, WoX sites will show up on top when people google the keywords? Don't be silly. It'll help a little bit, sure, but the real trick is SEO within the site code and content of the site as a whole. Saying "nemesis" a dozen times in a blog post certainly helps as the numbers add up, but don't expect your SEO-ed blogpost to bring in new users as if you're running paid ads. It's not magic, it takes work and strategic marketing. This is a long game. It will take months of SEO-ing to improve your site's SEO. It's worth doing but it needs to be done right. If your SEO-ed blogposts are as bad as my example, you're gonna lose a lot of respect and reputation in the many months it will take to get actual SEO results. Quantity comes at the cost of quality, especially if you don't have the time and resources to do it well. A lot of sites don't have the capacity to churn out biweekly blog posts right now, especially not with the additional requirement to figure out what this SEO thing is and how to do it without looking… well, desperate and pathetic.

SEO is important and it is worth doing. But at what cost? What is the point of showcasing the site blogs if the content on them doesn't show the best that the site has to offer? My suggestion is this: encourage SEO through support and positive reinforcement, not by force or pressure. This is volunteer work, after all. Take it slow, one step at a time. Be patient and let it take the time it takes. It's not magic and it won't work overnight either way, and if you don't do it right you might end up spending even more time and resources having to correct for it in the long run.

One step at a time. Don't try to run before you've learned to walk.

SEO stats on this blog post H1 x1, keyword x1 H2 x2, keyword x1 H3 x3, keyword x3 Paragraphs x 9 Total word count: 947 (stats excluded) Total keyword count: 16 (out of 7 required)

#wox #wox site #seo #feedback #nemesis #eris goddess of discord

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perseusjackson-jasongrace · 1 year

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Idk about you but I’ve had big big boy by sza on repeat and now I can’t get the image of Jason if when he grows up, talking 24-30ish, he looses his boyish body and is just a pure brick shithouse of a bloke. No lil waist nothing. Like hasanabi or Winston duke. Not even like overly muscular but very clearly powerful. When he hits he hits hard but like he’s still soft and good natured just with a brick wall of a physique. Idk why I’m sharing but I need this off my mind it’s giving brainrot

you are so freaking right anon!!!!! he IS a big boy. as he deserves. as WE deserve. and because i loved this so much it's a feature in a fic now. thank you for your brilliance anon :)

*this fic does not fulfill this "prompt" it just acknowledges the concept to some extent

summary

percy cannot contain his feelings. current news: storm fast approaching. jason is very good at being the pillar to lean against. he's very good at helping. current news: lifeguards advise that no water activities take place. storm continues to roll into the bay. percy and jason are so wonderfully brilliant at creation. is that not just the opposite of contain? to flood.

(you know i suck at summaries: percy and jase getting slightly kinky in a car, almost causing a storm, and then being teased about it, mwah!)

beginning notes

hiiiii! i found the first like 300 words of this which i started in august :// and my writing demon was like okay bitch do something about it??? so here we are :) It's another one of those, i was feeling a little out of my mind so this fic is a bit out of pace out of body out of logic type ones lol. you guys know what im talking about. i also realised i havent written for pers and jase in so long??? which is insane to me because they still are and forever will be my babies

this is also sort of an acknowledgment to an anon i got a couple weeks ago who put me onto big boy jason inspired by SZA's "big boy" and yea anon you're so right. he IS a big boy

title is from "paradise" by BTS

as usual this is not edited. my laptop is dying so i havent even done a quick run through . if you see a mistake, wish on it :) all in time for the new year

slight unsettling pace // slight grotesque imagery // slight nsfw content (while this does not contain explicit content there is some level of sexual activity happening. please keep yourself safe and within your boundaries)

I love you angel humans! thank you for spending this year with me :) you guys make me so happy. i look forward to your kudos, your comments, and your interactions every day. you are the brightest stars and i wish you nothing but peace and joy in the new year. as always stay safe, eat well, and i hope magic finds you <3

#jercy #pjjg fanfic #jason grace #percy jackson #anonklusmos

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hoarder-of-dragons · 2 months

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Hello travelers

This blog contains Good Omens brainrot, strong language, blood and glitter which may be unsuitable for mentally stable humans. Viewer discretion is advised.

So hey, you can call me Ren. I'm asexual and genderfluid with no preference for pronouns. Running on coffee 90 percent of the time and tea for the rest.

Currently more than neck deep in Good Omens but also dabble in Percy Jackson, Marauders, Smosh and Merlin. But mainly GO Also presently obsessing over Agatha Christie's Poirot.

Smosh "side"blog: @bugsarmour

Find my prev textposts on Merlin: #merthur Good Omens: #good omens Marauders: #marauders (there's like 4 here)

Recommend me books, shows or movies here cause I live under a rock and need to broaden my mind (and I can't make decisions)

I think that's it for now Enter my abyss, coffee will be provided

P.S: Do tell me if I'm being rude at times cause I don't understand most social cues especially online. More info abt my posts below

꧁ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ꧂ DEMON KITTY SURPRISE

#is this too long?#sorry #intro post #introduction post #blog intro #do people tag these

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dendroaspis-polylepis · 4 months

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Oath of Vengeance: Chapter 1

Howdy! This is Chapter 1 of my BG3 Astarion x Tav fic

Plucked from Wyrm's Crossing and dumped onto an abandoned beach in the middle of nowhere, Retribution somehow becomes the unwilling leader of a ragtag group of tadpole-infected strangers. She now has to battle not only a threat to Faerûn itself, but also help her new allies battle their personal demons. Retribution’s path to vengeance just got a whole lot longer.

Read it here on AO3

Chapter 2

The overgrown gate slowly lifted, a soft rain of dirt and dust falling from the vines that covered it as it rose. The loud groan it emitted drowned out the post-battle discussions happening behind her about who got what loot or if anyone required tending.

Looking around before she continued on, Retribution’s ruby eye swept over the steadily-increasing number of people who had decided to join her party of one. Her preferred traveling companions, Percy and Petunia, were nowhere to be seen after their abduction by mindflayers, and she was slowly growing more and more anxious the longer she went without finding the pair.

Instead, she found a talkative human wizard, a smug elf rogue, a battle-hungry githyanki fighter, and a tight-lipped half-elf cleric. Oh, and a walking corpse that was supposedly going to be meeting with her when they next set up camp.

If she was being completely honest with herself, she's had worse days.

After ensuring everyone made it through the goblin attack relatively unscathed, Retribution sidestepped a puddle of worg blood that was slowly spreading and walked into the grove proper, sweeping her black braid behind her as she went. As she crested a hill, Ret encountered a red-skinned tiefling and one of the humans from the gate caught in a heated argument.

“Are you an idiot in addition to a coward!? Not only did you lead a pack of goblins here, you lost Halsin!” the tiefling bellowed.

Stepping closer, the tanned human spat back, “Wouldn't'a been an issue if he could keep up with us! That camp was infested with the little shits. And who're you to be callin' me a coward? You slammed that gate shut an’ left us to die!” His finger jabbed into the tiefling’s breastplate.

“I wasn't about to let you lead those beasts straight into the grove, there are children here! Might I remind you that my duty is to this camp, not your failed mercenary band?” The tiefling's ire was quickly coming to a boil, prompting Retribution to step between the two.

Her resonant voice was stern, “Arguing won't solve anything, nor will it bring anyone back. You two are better off directing that anger towards something actually productive.”

Taking a moment to absorb her words, the tiefling stepped back, shaking his head before sighing, “…You're right, there's nothing to be gained from letting our emotions get in the way.”

The human was less receptive to her words. Rather than back away from her, he stepped around to get to the other tiefling again, his jaw clenched in focus. Or at least, he tried to step around her. Seeing what he was attempting to do, Ret grabbed him by the face and pushed him to the ground.

“Think with your brain, not with your pride, human,” she advised coldly.

Sneering, he tore his eyes away from the other tiefling to actually look at her. Taking in her eyepatch and surrounding scars, he stood back up and snarked, “Did thinking with your brain cost you that eye? What about your horn? Matter of fact, looks like the entire left si-”

Snatching him by the front of his leather armor, Ret yanked him up to be eye level with her, bringing him a hair’s breadth from her face and leaving his feet to dangle several inches off the ground. Her voice was tempered, but held an unmistakable edge, “I like to think I’m a relatively level-headed woman, but I can say with certainty that my patience for today has run out. I am going to release you in a moment, and I suggest you practice thinking with your brain and leave. Quickly. Am I understood?”

Apparently being flush with Retribution's immense frame sparked the intelligent part of his brain into action, as he enthusiastically nodded. His curly hair bounced onto his forehead with the force of it.

“Good.” She released his armor, watching him stumble as his feet made contact with the ground once more, “Now fuck off.”

And off he fucked, along with the other human and half-elf he travelled with. Ret's eye bored into the back of his head as he left, wishing her glare alone could cause him to wither away.

Her lack of a left eye was something of a sore spot currently. At least, more than it was normally. It’s absence meant she had spent the last two days focusing more on her positioning in fights than actually landing blows. Percy always fought to her left, covering her blind side and giving her room to put some real muscle into her swings, while Petunia herded enemies and took out stragglers. Much to Ret's frustrations, none of the fools currently following her around were her fools. This left her with the exhausting task of actually watching where she was swinging, lest she behead one of them on accident. Maybe she could spend some time tonight deciding who would be best to approach about fighting in her blind spot. At least until she found Percy and Petunia, again.

“I apologize for Aradin’s behavior, he's far too confident for someone with so few skills. I am Zevlor, leader of the tiefling caravan currently staying in the grove,” he extended his hand.

“Retribution. A pleasure,” she returned the gesture, catching her companions approaching out of the corner of her eye.

“Thank you for your help out there.” His brows furrow as he continues, “Though I should warn you, this grove will be closed to outsiders soon enough, so gather what supplies you need quickly.”

“We don't need much, some tieflings by the beach mentioned a healer here. Would you be able to point us in the right direction?”

Zevlor huffed, “Unfortunately, those mercenaries you saved lost the First Druid, Halsin. He was the grove's primary healer. His apprentice, Nettie, should be able to patch you up well enough. She can be found in the grove's inner sanctum, though some of the more fanatical druids may not take kindly to a tiefling walking around in their sacred pool.” His voice took on a mocking tone at the end of his sentence, clearly having interacted with said fanatics before.

“I think I can handle myself well enough, but I appreciate the concern. If that's all, we'll be on our way,” before she could turn to leave, Zevlor placed a hand on her arm, halting her.

“I... I hate to ask this of you after saving us once already, but if you happen to see Kagha, their new First Druid, could you try to persuade her to halt her ritual? Even for a few more days? Anything would help, and she technically owes you now that you've protected her grove.” His words were hopeful, begging for a sliver of salvation.

Retribution recognizes the pleading look in his eyes, having seen it directed at her from countless others during her travels. People would see her paladin's garb and expect her to drop everything to assist someone in need. Her assistance almost always correlated to how much gold they appeared to be carrying. Though luckily for Zevlor, she made an exception for tieflings occasionally.

“I make no promises, but I'll see what I can do.”

Satisfied with her answer, Zevlor let her head further into the grove, companions in tow.

Everyone split off at this point, agreeing to meet at the gate in a few hours.

Gale wanted to speak with Arron, the grove's general merchant, to barter with some of the spoils collected during their previous days of travel. Food was running low, and he hoped to bolster their supplies for the foreseeable future.

Shadowheart sought the blacksmith, needing to either repair or replace her shield that sustained enough acid damage to put a sizeable hole in the wood.

Lae'zel went to hunt down and interrogate Zorru, a tiefling that had supposedly seen other gith in the area.

And Astarion's only plan was apparently to trail behind Retribution, gossiping about everyone they passed. He seemed to always have a flirty line prepared for each of his new companions, and now was no exception.

“I couldn't help but notice you rag dolling that little human around at the gate,” stroking his hand up and down the intricate plate armor that protected her bicep as they walked, he lowered his voice so as to only be audible to her. “There are plenty of people in Baldur's Gate who would pay damn good money for such a strong, capable woman to do that to them. Myself included, if I'm honest.” Angling his head towards hers, he looked up at her through thick lashes.

“Piss me off enough and I'll do it for free,” breaking eye contact, she looked ahead, keeping the pair on track to the inner sanctum. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t find him attractive, or that his little teases didn’t cause her stomach to flutter the tiniest bit. However, she had been on a mission to find a healer for the past few days to help with their current tadpole issue, and she wouldn’t be distracted when she was so close.

Deflating slightly, he grumbled, “That's not exactly how I was hoping to get you riled up, but to each their own, I suppose.” His eyes narrowed as the pair continued on, “Are you not interested in men, then? Is that it? You certainly wouldn’t be the first who was immune to my charms, though you would be the most remarkable.”

Without warning, he yanked Retribution into a small rocky alcove off the path by her belt, away from prying eyes as he placed his body in front of the entrance, trapping her. Grasping a vine in the stonework, Astarion pulled himself up to be eye-level with her as he threw his legs around her waist, ankles crossing behind her. His free hand came to her throat, trailing his fingers along the sliver of delicate skin exposed. He had her in a remarkably similar stance to how she held Aradin earlier.

Unlike earlier, however, Retribution held none of the power in this situation. Yes, she was more than strong enough to push him away, but she was of two minds. On one hand, how long had it been since she'd allowed herself to just let go and indulge? On the other, she had a job to do, and she didn’t entirely trust his motives.

Not knowing what to do with her hands, one gripped the stone behind her like a lifeline, the other rested feather-light on his waist.

“No no, it’s not that, you're quite beautiful, it's just-”

“You think I’m beautiful?” His smile spread, crinkling the corners of his eyes with how broadly it stretched, revealing remarkably sharp canines for an elf. Astarion pressed his chest into her, dipping his fingers into the narrow gap between her gorget and neck as he pulled her face closer. The cross-guard of her flaming greatsword dug into her back, though her thoughts were far too unfocused currently to care.

She could feel warmth spreading up her neck onto her cheeks, and cursed her bone-white skin, as it left nothing to hide. As her blush crept up her face, Astarion only grew more smug, half-lidded eyes practically undressing her. Leaning in until his lips brushed hers, she was enveloped in his perfume: citrussy and intoxicating.

This was going horribly, horribly wrong. Her usual calm, stoic demeanor was completely shattered by some pretty fop she found on the side of the road, batting his eyelashes and showing her the most attention she's received in a decade.

Gods, had it really been that long since she laid with someone?

Focus, Ret, focus.

“No. Wait- yes, you are beautiful, but I- we should be focusing more on getting these tadpoles out of our heads, and not-” Retribution's verbal stumbling was mercifully cut short as a deep, thunderous roar tore through their little moment, thrusting the pair back to their current mission. Rather than look frightened at the sudden bellow, Astarion appeared more annoyed than anything.

Leaving their little hideaway, the pair eventually made it to the top steps to the sacred pool, where a large bear was swiping and shouting at a crowd of gathered tieflings. From what fragments Ret could gather over the cacophony, a child had been kidnapped by the druids, and was being held in the inner sanctum.

When the bear's swats started getting more erratic, the crowd dispersed, not wanting to catch a stray claw in their flesh. Having no such concerns, Retribution stepped passed the bear and pair of druids. As she passed, one of the druids, a dark-skinned elf stepped into her path at the same time she heard the bear lumber to her left, a challenging rumble emanating from it.

Falling back into her comfortable role of an indomitable wall, Retribution sneered. “I defend your grove and this is the thanks I get? I'll go where I please.” The druid’s brow twitched at the realization that Retribution wouldn't be bullied into compliance. “Just point me in the direction of Nettie and I’ll be on my way.”

The smaller of the two druids, a ruddy gnome, raised his hand in an attempt to get Ret's attention, “Actually, First Druid Kagha would like to speak with you, if you would be so kind.” He gestured to a large stone door that led into the hill they stood on when they first arrived.

“Does that lead to the inner sanctum?” Retribution asked, to which he nodded in the affirmative.

Giving an appreciative head tilt to the gnome, Ret walked between the two druids, missing Astarion's flippant smirk and wave to the taller of the pair as he passed.

Making their way down mossy, uneven stairs leading deeper into the hillside, Ret heard a child's sobbing. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, a small tiefling came into view. Surrounding her was a human with dark, rich skin and a bronzy elf. Ret saw the horror on the human's face as he argued with the elf whose back was to the pair.

“Kagha, this is madness! She's a child, for Silvanus' sake!” the human defended, his eyes flicking to Retribution, shooting her a pleading glance.

Kagha's, ears perked, “She is not a child, she's a hellspawn. Not only that, she's a thief: stealing our holy idols, siphoning our resources, desecrating our sacred grove, the list goes on!” Her voice was icy. Noticing the human's gaze, she followed it behind her to do a double-take at the pair who just arrived, eyes narrowing as she took in the horn and tail of one of the interlopers. Huffing, she complained, “I thought I told Jeorna to keep the other hellspawns OUT of the inner sanctum. Who in the hells are you?”

This time, Retribution didn't miss Astarion's growing smirk as his eyes bounced back and forth between Ret and Kagha, eager to see how this played out.

Approaching the trio, Ret schooled her expression into a steely mask; it wouldn’t do to allow the druid’s ignorance to cloud her judgement. “I'm the hellspawn who saved your sorry excuse of a grove. Are you really so weak as to be threatened by a child?” It's no wonder Zevlor was so intent on imploring her help when the First Druid was attempting to imprison a youngling, and seemed to have a qualm with tieflings, specifically. The youngling in question slowly started shuffling her way to Retribution once the attention of the two druids was off her.

“This child,” she spat the word like it was bitter on her tongue, “stole our most holy artifact after we have been nothing but accommodating to her people as they parasitize us. I am simply carrying out my duties as First Druid and removing these parasites,” her scowl only deepened as she noticed the child slinked her way to the opposite side of Retribution from her.

Looking down at the tiefling now clutching at the belt that secured her various pouches and satchels, Retribution gestured to the stairs her and Astarion came down as she suggested, “Go. And don't make me regret this.”

The girl nodded gratefully before turning and bolting up the stairs, stumbling as she went. Rath heaved a sigh of relief.

Turning back to the druids, Ret's eye met Kagha once again. She was about to insult the woman further, but Astarion beat her to it.

“My my, you’ve certainly been busy as First Druid!” Holding up his hand, he counted each of her 'accomplishments', “Having your protection outsourced to a random group of adventurers, letting your ‘most holy artifact’ get swiped by a child, attempting to imprison said child, failing to imprison said child. It’s a miracle anyone here is still alive!” He punctuated his sentence with an airy laugh.

Kagha’s hands clenched at his mocking words, and she closed her eyes to take several steadying breaths. “Enough. I did not ask you here to exchange barbs. I wished to ask for your assistance, and it seems as though you’re already more than willing. I want these refugees gone by any means necessary. If you need to speak with Zevlor to decide on the best course of action, then so be it, but I want every tiefling gone from my grove in one week.” She shot Retribution a threatening look, clearly including her in the 'every tiefling' stipulation. Her words were strained, as though remaining calm was causing her physical pain. Or maybe it was asking a tiefling for help. Either way, Ret didn’t miss the way a vein in her forehead throbbed with restraint.

She gave Kagha the same response she gave Zevlor, “Very well. I'll certainly try, though no guarantees.” Any kind of promise, oath, or vow was dangerous, and not something Retribution handed out to any random stranger. “If we're done here, I'm looking for Nettie.”

“She's through there,” Rath offered, pointing to a large stone doorway hewn from the cave walls. “Thank you, by the way,” he whispered as she passed.

Eager to be rid of her tadpole, Ret nodded in acknowledgement before making her way through the arch into another chamber, this one smaller than the last. A gold dwarf with elaborate, geometric tattoos tended to an exhausted blue bird atop one of the stone tables.

The gold dwarf muttered quietly to herself, oblivious to Retribution's arrival. Not wanting to interrupt what was apparently a very intensive procedure, Ret busied herself by looking around.

There were a number of beds strewn about, as well as an elaborate alchemy setup. The seemingly-perpetual mud of the previous room gave way to packed soil and grass mats, and large stone statues of various animals almost appeared to follow her with their glowing eyes. Giving the room a quick once-over, she realized Astarion hadn't actually followed her in. Must've wandered off.

“Vis medicatrix... There we go, that oughta get you right as rain. Now no more picking fights with goblins, you hear?” the dwarf chastised. “Oh! Sorry, didn't hear ya come in. The name's Nettie. And you are...?” Nettie held her hand out for Retribution to shake, forcing the tiefling to stoop uncomfortably to return the gesture.

“Retribution. I have a... condition I'd like assistance with, if you're capable?” Her words were tinged with hesitancy. Being infected with a mindflayer tadpole wasn't something she wanted to be shouting from the mountaintops, after all.

Sensing her reluctance, Nettie reassured, “I'm no Master Halsin, but I'm sure I can help with whatever ails you. Come here, let me get a look at you.” Retribution kneeled before her, unable to hide a wince when the pose caused a jolt of pain to shoot up from her left knee.

Taking Ret's face in her hands, Nettie studied her. Ret watched as her brows furrowed in concentration, taking in every scar and wrinkle that marked her face. Placing a thumb under her good eye and pulling the skin downward, the healer gave her verdict, “Well, you look exhausted, but I'm sure you don't need me to tell you that. Is there something specific I can help with?” Nettie released her face, giving her a moment to right herself fully.

“I've been infected with a mindflayer tadpole.” There. It was out. Now to see what —if anything— Nettie could do.

The shock on her face was plain as day, though she tried to hide it quickly. “That's... serious,” her eyes flicked to the open archway behind Ret. “Follow me, there might be something I can do.”

Retribution followed as Nettie led her to a stone wall. As she approached, a spark of magic glimmered along her headband and the wall revealed itself to be another doorway. Holding a hand out, Nettie invited, “After you.”

Entering, Retribution's eye was immediately drawn to the drow corpse sprawled on a raised table. Broken arrow shafts poked out of his chest, and five evenly-spaced slashes slit from throat to clavicle.

“Ah, sorry. That one had a tadpole same as you. Nearly killed Master Halsin and I a few days ago with a pack of goblins. After Halsin got him, the tadpole wriggled out of his skull.”

Well that didn't bode well.

“Is there a less… dire cure?”

Rather than respond, Nettie fiddled with a few of the jars situated on a nearby desk. Over her shoulder, Ret observed her carefully applying a viscous liquid to a branch. Turning around, her face appeared hopeful, but the tight way she held her eyes suggested otherwise.

“How'd this happen in the first place? People don't just go getting infected willy-nilly.” Nettie craned her neck to look at Ret with genuine interest.

No sense in lying now, she already knew about the tadpole. “I was kidnapped by a mindflayer ship in Rivington and infected while onboard.”

Nettie's eyebrows rose, pacing as she tapped a finger to her chin, “I suppose a mindflayer ship would explain the sudden uptick in cases... Any symptoms?”

“I've been involuntarily melding minds with other infected I come across. We catch glimpses into each other's thoughts and memories. It's quite painful in the moment, though it subsides quickly.” Ret tried to be as descriptive as she could. Maybe a certain detail could help jog Nettie's mind for a less fatal remedy.

The druid looked down at the branch she'd been clutching at her side, then back up to Ret. “It's a shame you got me instead of Master Halsin. The reason he was even with those mercenaries was to try and get to the bottom of all these little brain worms.” Her voice was somber, “Look, you've been honest with me, so I'll be honest with you: I don't have a cure, but I do have a way out.”

Flicking her chin towards the branch, Ret questioned, “So what's that all about, then?”

Nettie winced, looking down “A backup plan in case I couldn't trust you.” Sensing Retribution's dissatisfaction, Nettie pushed onwards, “But I feel like I can.” Returning the branch to her desk, her eyes swept over the cluttered surface and plucked a small vial wrapped in red thread. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, “Okay, more honesty time. You're dangerous. I'm sure you're well aware of the fact you could transform at any moment, killing everyone here, but I want to give you a chance to save yourself. This -” she raises the vial, “- is a jar of wyvern poison. Swear to me that you'll drink it the moment you start feeling yourself transform.”

Retribution's stomach plummeted. Not only was Nettie unable to do anything, but at some point she had sealed the stone door behind her, trapping Retribution. She had to get out of here. “Fine. Give me the poison.” Reaching for the vial, Ret wasn't expecting the dwarf to pull back.

“No. Promise me,” Nettie's voice was stern. This wasn't something she would be compromising on.

“NO.” Retribution refused. She had to find some way to remove this brainworm, but death wasn't an option.

“Then you've given me no choice. I'm truly sorry.” With that, Nettie ran to the opposite side of the table, seeking cover as she cast a spell.

Drawing her greatsword, Retribution panicked. This wasn't how she was hoping any of this would go. She didn't want to kill the woman, but she also knew the druid wouldn't let her go freely without a promise. Ret was wise enough to know if a tiefling killed their new primary healer, the refugees currently sheltering here were doomed. Maybe there was another option.

Charging at the woman, Retribution felt as the flames from her weapon's blade seemed to suddenly flow towards the hilt, searing her palms through her gauntlets. Her natural fire resistance helped somewhat, but she knew she'd have some decent burns until she could take time to heal herself. Raising her sword, Ret brought the hilt down precisely onto Nettie's temple. Instantly, Nettie crumpled to the ground, and the heat from Ret’s handle receded. Securing her blade, she knelt to inspect the druid. She was still alive, just unconscious.

Tearing a page from one of the notebooks scattered atop the desk, Retribution hastily scrawled an apology before placing it on Nettie's chest. Hopefully she'd accept it. Now to get out of here... Ret carefully removed Nettie's circlet and inspected it, remembering the glitter that accompanied the door opening the first time. She didn't expect a button anywhere to activate the magic, but it would've made things far simpler. Placing it atop her own brows, Ret failed to inspire it to action. Gods, she wished Percy were here; her little sorcerer would've had this trinket figured out in no time. Or at the very least had a fireball prepared to hurl at the door.

Removing the woven circlet, she tried everything from shouting at it to chucking it at the door. This, somehow, worked, as the moment the band clinked off the stone, the door grinded open slowly.

Ret immediately began moving, wanting to make as swift an exit as possible. Re-entering the sanctum's main room, her eye darted around, looking for Astarion so the pair could leave already. He was casually leaning against one of the many stone statues, absentmindedly cleaning under his nails with a dagger. Catching her in his periphery, his head lifted and he greeted her with a seductive smile. Absorbing her wide eye and flicking tail, he raised a single eyebrow.

Her voice was hushed and strained, “We need to leave. Now.”

Following the hulking woman on her right, the pair made their way up the stairs.

“Are you going to tell me what has you in a tizzy, or am I supposed to guess?” He matched her hiss.

“Not here. I'll tell you when we're out of the grove.”

The sunlight blinded the pair as they left the dark cavern of the inner sanctum, and Retribution almost missed Astarion's flinch at the light. When they got about halfway up the steps leaving the sacred pool, Ret froze as a pair of small arms wrapped around her hips. Turning, she met the eyes of the tiefling child Kagha wanted to imprison.

“I take it you're the hero who saved our little girl?” A pink tiefling with hair that matched the child beamed.

Gods, this really wasn't the time. Retribution wasted enough time with that stupid fucking circlet that it was a miracle Nettie didn't wake up and force Ret to kill her outright.

“Uhm, I suppose so.” She slowly shuffled out of the child's grasp, patting her head awkwardly.

Not sensing her urgency, or perhaps not wanting to appear ungrateful, the woman took Ret's hand and introduced herself and her husband as Komira and Locke, respectively. “We can't express our gratitude, who knows what those monsters would've done to Arabella if you hadn't stepped in!”

Astarion felt something flick across his left calf, and caught the swoosh of Retribution's normally stationary tail as it swiped again in distress. This could be fun. He rested his head against her shoulder and brought his right hand to her cuirass, fingers following the decorative contours. His left came up behind Ret to gently take hold of her raven braid and wrap it around his hand once. Not pulling, merely giving the suggestion that he could.

“I hate to be impolite, but we were actually on our way somewhere a bit more private so I could make an offering to Sharess at the altar of our courageous hero, if you catch my meaning?” Waggling his eyebrows suggestively, there was no way these two could misinterpreted him. “Retribution's such a vision that I can't help but worship her.” Every tiefling present - save the child, who was blessedly oblivious - sported a flush of color to their cheeks and ears at his seduction.

Locke was the first to recover, “Oh- yes, of course, our apologies!” He sputtered.

Komira was second, “But please, taste- take this as a token of our thanks before you, uh, go.” She fumbled with a pouch at her hip before producing a locket with a delicate, glimmering pendant.

Astarion accepted the necklace with a polite smile. “Well, if that's everything, I do believe we'll be off! Come along, darling, I've a need to genuflect before my dashing knight,” he husked. Retribution allowed Astarion to lead her away by the hand, giving a quick wave behind in farewell.

Ret had never been more relieved to see her other companions gathered near the gate. Each of them took in the pair's appearances -Astarion's smug confidence, and Retribution's subtle blush- with mixed reactions.

The corners of Shadowheart's lips curled, and her brows quirked in amusement. The tips of Gale's ears took on the barest hint of pink as his lips pursed. Lae'zel gave an exasperated “Chk” and stomped towards the gate.

Gale approached the pair, clearing his throat, “Retribution, I hope you don't mind, this is Wyll! I’ve invited him to join us at camp,” he gestured to a young, human man with several deep scars that framed his face. Interestingly, he was also missing an eye. Where Ret kept an eyepatch over her left eye, Wyll instead had a stone likeness seated into his right socket. Lowering his voice, he clarified, “He's also been infected, so it seemed only natural.”

Wyll stepped to the wizard's left and bowed before her, “Wyll, Blade of Frontiers, at your service,” he declared with pride.

Ret felt Astarion stiffen beside her. Worried he sensed danger she hadn't yet, she urged her group from the grove as she spoke. “Retribution. Let's continue this conversation on the road, yeah? Sun's setting, and I'm hoping to set up camp while there's still daylight.”

Lae'zel was already several paces past the gate, prompting everyone to get moving to catch up with her. Ret began walking, but the hand holding hers followed at a snail's pace. She was absolutely mortified to realize that she never actually let go of Astarion. Looking back, his face was contorted. Silver brows creased together in anxiety as he looked on.

“Are you alright?” She asked as she wriggled her hand out of his grasp. His expression flashed from anxious to disappointed before smoothing out.

“Oh I'm fine, just thinking about how much safer I feel with the famed 'Blade of Frontiers' guarding us now.” He didn't bother trying to mask his sarcasm as he matched Ret's speed. The pair were still trailing behind everyone else, out of earshot but within eyesight.

“Do people actually call him that? He seems so young to have a moniker.” Retribution had one of her own, not that she would ever go around telling people. That was a part of her life she hoped to leave back in the Underdark. She also probably had seven decades on the human, making his title all the more incredulous.

“Yes, actually. He's made quite the name for himself along the Sword Coast as a monster hunter." Disdain tinges his words.

“I take it you're not a fan?”

“Not particularly, no. You know those hero types: always strutting about like peacocks.” Remembering his earlier lauding with Arabella's parents, he amended, “Not you, though. I quite like your strut.”

“I do not strut,” Retribution frowned.

Humming, Astarion thought for a moment. “I suppose you don't exactly strut, do you? I suppose it's closer to a swagger, now that I think on it; you actually have the muscle to back it up, after all.”

Side-eyeing him, she begrudgingly accepted the description. “Thank you, by the way. With the girl's parents.” She specified, when he gave a puzzled look. “It’s not quite how I would’ve gone about it, but it was… effective, to say the least.”

Waving a hand, he accepted her thanks, “Of course, think nothing of it. Though now that we're out of the grove, I think it's about time you told me what you got up to in there that had you so frazzled.”

“I knocked out the healer we were supposed to meet with.”

Astarion's brows quirked, “And you didn't invite me? How could you!” He teased.

“You wandered off!” She huffed, “Not like she would've been able to help us anyway. Apparently their missing First Druid, Halsin, knows more about these tadpoles than she does.”

“I wouldn't be so quick to write them off, my dear. They have their perks,” he muttered.

“Such as...?” Ret began, encouraging him to elaborate.

Waving her question off, he redirected, “Look, while you were attacking innocent druids, I was gathering valuable information.” He proudly produced a folded paper and, with a flourish, delivered it into Retribution's gauntleted hands. “This came from your favorite druid’s personal trunk.”

Ignoring the fact that Astarion just admitted to rifling through what was essentially someone’s underwear drawer, Ret opened the parchment. It was simple and short, giving vague instructions to meet at a tree by swamp docks alone. Retribution knew based on a map she pilfered from the abandoned temple that there was a sizeable swamp to the south west.

“Hm. Well this isn’t suspicious at all.” Handing the note back, Retribution didn’t bother trying to hide her smile. It wasn’t that she was hoping the new First Druid was getting up to shady business, but if that shady business meant Ret had a real reason to enact vengeance beyond being a bitch, she’d take it.

“Isn’t it? I was hoping you might find that interesting,” he threw a coy glance up at her. “As loathe as I am to go traipsing into a swamp of all places, I think it might be worth it if it means I get to see you lop her head off.”

“Is that why you gave me this, then? You just want me to kill her?” Her voice dropped, almost sounding sad.

“Not entirely. Though I’ll never tire of seeing you covered in blood. So long as it’s not mine, of course,” he tacked on, gesturing to her full plate that was still covered in a thin layer of goblin grime. “I didn’t particularly care for how she spoke to you, either, and you strike me as more of a ‘let me fight my own battles’ sort of woman.”

“You would be correct. Thank you for finding this for me, then, as well. I only apologize I don’t have anything to offer in return.”

“I could think of a few things…” His eyes raked over her suggestively. “Though for now your presence is more than enough. Come along, now, we should catch up with everyone before the wizard finds another stray.”

#astarion x tav #astarion fanfic #bg3 fanfic #Tav: Retribution

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micahdraws · 1 year

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What Micah's been up to

It's been about four years since Tumblr put up that ill-advised NSFW ban and led me to leave "forever." I honestly didn't think I'd come back. I started gaining a lot of momentum on Twitter and I'd been growing dissatisfied with Tumblr on the whole. At the time I was looking for a reason to leave and the carte-blanche NSFW ban was the nail in the coffin. I still don't fully trust Tumblr's admin, but they're allowing the kind of art I do again and my past frustrations with Tumblr don't need to be covered here.

So here are some of the things I've done the last few years!

Calendar projects!

Since 2018, I have produced four illustrated calendars that funded on Kickstarter! I started with the 2019 Hunks & Myth Calendar, which featured shirtless men from around the world carrying cute baby versions of mythological creatures!

I followed that up with the 2020 Hunks & Myth Calendar, which had mythological men and baby animals. That one was successful but not as big as the prior year. Fortunately, it was pre-covid, so I can tell it was less about the life circumstances and more about the subject itself. Just wasn't as in-demand, which is okay! Live and learn.

I took a year off from calendars and then put together the 2022 Coffeehouse Hunks Calendar! This one featured twelve coffee recipes you can make at home, all accompanied by a sort of "gijinka" hunk of that coffee drink! This one did VERY well and it was very encouraging to see it go so hard.

The Coffeehouse Hunks' success led me to create this year's calendar project, the 2023 Cocktail Hunks Calendar! The Cocktail Hunks followed the Coffeehouse theme -- a series of cocktail recipes accompanied by a "gijinka" of that drink. This was even more fun and it's been great to see how my art has evolved since the first calendar -- since the 2022 calendar, even! The Cocktail Hunks far surpassed my expectations and it feels really, really good to see so many people interested in my work like this!

If any of you are interested in the Cocktail Hunks Calendar, or recipe cards for either the Cocktails or Coffeehouse Hunks, I do have copies that I'll be posting for sale soon. So please keep an eye out for that!

The Sparrow

The year 2021 marked another big, big, big spike in my artistic career. It's when I ran and funded the Kickstarter for the Sparrow!

Some of you may remember I was still working on the Sparrow even before I left Tumblr. A lot has changed, a lot has grown out of it, a lot has happened, and thanks to Kickstarter support, I was able to fund the Sparrow's very first print run! A whole 70 pages of comics plus some bonus content like character interviews, RPG character sheets and profiles, and more.

I'm in the midst of making Book 2 right now. It'll be a while before I finish that, but you wouldn't believe how amazing it was to see so many people back the Sparrow, a book many of them had never heard of. Honestly, it was a little overwhelming, and it's amazing that I still get people interested in buying at cons and the like.

You can get a PDF version of the Sparrow on my Gumroad shop or read the whole thing on my Sparrow website. It's like Percy Jackson meets the X-Men but more gay :D

Other things

The Sparrow and the Calendars have been my biggest projects the last few years. But some other things I've worked on include:

Soldier/Sailor: A gay superhero oneshot -- This 20-page one-shot was written by Andrew Wheeler (Sins of Black Flamingo, Marvel Voices: Pride, etc.) and drawn by me. It follows the story of Jacob, aka Warrior One, as he reunites with his old lover Armon, Prince of Atlantis.

The Strapping Lads: A D&D Supplement - Twelve classes, twelve men, all ready for your D&D campaign. I put this together for FlameCon 2019 and it went over pretty well >:]

Mutants and Masterminds: Parade Route - I got hired to do the cover art for this Mutants and Masterminds RPG supplement! This illustration features the gay man Johnny Rocket supporting teammate and trans woman Lady Liberty as she attends her first Pride as both an openly queer person and a superhero!

I think there's more that's happened but those are some of my big highlights for the last few years. I'll also post some of my backlog here over the next while, once I have a chance to schedule in some posting. I hope you enjoy, and thank you to everyone that is still here and remembers lil ol' me!

#micah talks

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dreamwritesimagines · 2 years

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This Fredrick plot line is a really great way to introduce conflict between Chanthony. I like that its conflict not caused by themselves but by the reactions of what has happened.

Really and truly no one was in the wrong. Well yes technically Cherie is in the wrong for her anger should only be reserved for Fred (and as much as I love him to Percy tho to a much LESSER extent at this point) and not Anthony.

I hope we don’t see Anthony apologise for his actions. I hope Cherie can see that Anthony understands where she’s coming from. Im sure he’s just as angry as she was. Her pain is literally his pain too. I wish she could’ve seen that. I feel so bad for her tho. Seeing the man that changed your life just by a mere rumour must be vexing. I can see why she lashed out.

Can’t believe she’s running from Anthony at a moment where she should be running to him. I also kinda hope Anthony talks about this “fight”between them with the duke and duke is there to advise him and stop history from repeating itself.

Omg darliiing it means so much to me to hear this, thank you! ❤🥰

Exactly! Like, their conflict had to be caused from outside for us to see how they would handle it, because they're bound to have fights in their marriage but they're too in love to cause it themselves in a way 😂

Cherie should have calmed down first but because she refused to calm down and listen, she ended up directing that anger at Anthony 💔

Oh we won't see him apologizing for it, don't worry! ❤ Like, he did the right thing and he knows it even if things are bad between them right now ❤

Her pain is literally his pain too. I wish she could’ve seen that. Omg this is so sweet and so true! 😍❤

Anthony will talk to Percy -more like Percy will invite him to his study to ask him how Cherie is- and it'll be the first time they have a friendly conversation I think 😂

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stellarhistoria · 1 year

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“I wouldn’t advise that…” percy @ luka!

@xfindingtrouble

"Here's the thing, that I need you to understand."

The doctor grins, cocking his hip and resting a hand on it as he twirls his keyblade, currently shifted into a form more suitable for this world --- a staff with his doctor's pendant dangling from it's top. His grin is wild, showcasing his tendency to challenge not just the world but the gods, and everyone that crosses his path, to walk across the sea, to run across the air and FLY -- S O A R to new heights!

And he

J U M P S

suddenly landing in the middle of the air and running on the surface of the air as if it were solid, laughing hysterically and maniacally, as if this were a normal occurrence.

"Lady Luck, and her son, Fortune, favor the bold! You should learn a thing or two about that, friend!"

#❥ luka. verse 01 ﹕ chase that distant horizon.#❥ luka. ic ﹕ if i could walk on water i'd run across the sea for you.#xfindingtrouble: percy #xfindingtrouble #luka voice : EITHER I COULD KILL GOD OR I WILL BECOME HIM #he's absolutely feral for a cleric #♡. ooc.asks ⁄ ⁄ the magister speaks .

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chudleycanonficfest · 3 years

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Day 28, Post #1 by @floreatcastellumposts

Title: The Argument Author/Artist: FloreatCastellum Pairing: Gen Prompt: “Siblings: The only enemy you can’t live without” -Anonymous Rating: T Trigger Warning(s) (if any): Mild language

When he was a child, Ron had sometimes sat secretly on the stairs, feet in slippers too big for him, teddy tucked under his arm, listening to the goings on in the kitchen. Often his sister or a brother or two would be with him. This was especially the case when there was an argument, because they were a nosy bunch of kids, and they would grin gleefully at one another as they heard their mother roar over some issue, like when Bill came home with his first tattoo, or Charlie had done something dangerous like climb on the roof, or the many, many, many things that Fred and George had done. They would gather on the stairs and snigger and delight in their siblings being in trouble - that it wasn't them, and usually it was over something hilarious too.

Today was quite different. The stairs were narrow, so Ginny was pressed right up against him, but she was gripping hold of his arm too. Behind them, Fred and George sat in grim, stony silence, their knees occasionally knocking the back of Ron's head, but, remarkably, none of them were squabbling.

'Is it so hard to just be happy for me?' Percy was bellowing, and that in itself was unusual, because it was never Percy in trouble.

'It's not about that,' Dad was bellowing back, 'are you so naive? Are you really so foolish-?' This was unusual too, because it wasn't usually Dad bellowing.

'Percy... Percy, we're just worried, we're just concerned...' Mum was sobbing. This was unusual, because she usually had a bit more fight in her, not this desperate pleading.

'You're so cynical, the pair of you-'

'We're realistic! You've been promoted well above your grade before the dust has settled on the inquiry-'

'STOP BRINGING UP THE INQUIRY!' Percy sounded quite deranged; the ferocity of his voice made Ginny jump slightly, and grip Ron's arm harder. 'That - wasn't - my - fault! That was the point of it! That PROVED I wasn't to blame, I was acquitted-'

'Yes, and we were delighted,' said Dad, and to Ron's astonishment, his words sounded bitingly sarcastic, 'but even so, you have to see that mass scandal is not usually a precursor to promotion!'

'He SAW something in me!'

'Yes, he did! He saw a potential spy! On our family - on Dumbledore-'

Percy let out a maniacal laugh, forced and sneering and sanctimonious, it made Ron wince as he heard it. 'And you say I'm arrogant?'

'We've never said you were arrogant-' Mum tried to chip in desperately, but Percy continued talking over her.

'You think you're important enough to warrant the Minister for Magic spying on you? You think he considers you in the same circle as Dumbledore? More to the point, you think Dumbledore truly respects the likes of you?'

'Fudge has been going round making it more than clear that anyone who supports Dumbledore can clear out their desks-'

'Utter rot-'

'-He knows I'm friendly with him, he knows I have advised the school on muggleborn inte-'

'No one cares!' Percy screamed. 'No one cares about that stuff! You're ludicrous!'

'Ludicrous?' Dad echoed, with an uncharacteristic scoff to his voice.

'Ludicrous! Not everything is a conspiracy, not everything has an anti-muggle agenda - I know what this is really about, you're embarrassed that your own son is rising above you, is succeeding where you haven't-'

'Percy!' Mum's gasp was so clear that Ron could easily imagine her hand leaping to her chest.

'I've had to struggle against your lousy reputation ever since I started! Do you know how embarrassing it is? Do you know what it's like having people ask if I'm related to the muggle-mad Weasley on Level Two-'

'That's enough,' said Dad coldly.

'I lie to them, d'you know that? I tell them we're only distantly related.'

'What the fuck?' Ron heard one of the twins whisper behind them. 'Is he serious?'

'I never imagined I had raised you to be so small-minded-' Dad was spitting back.

'It's baffling that you raised me at all! You, who has no ambition, no sense, no idea of how ridiculous you come across with your obsession with muggles - is it any wonder you've always been passed over for promotion-'

'-Because of bigotry!'

'-Any wonder you've left your children to grow up in poverty? To be humiliated by the failures of their father?'

'Stop it! Percy, stop it!' Mum was wailing, and whether it was Fred or George directly behind him Ron didn't know, but their knee was trembling against the back of his head.

'It's not failure, it's a matter of principle and integrity!' Dad roared back. 'There are more important things than gold, that's what we've always-'

'You are deluded! You are so blinded by your persecution complex, by your victimhood, that you cannot be happy for your son!' Percy’s voice was hoarse and raw, whether from tears or overexertion, Ron wasn’t sure. 'You can't bear to see him succeed where you failed! To see him make something of himself!'

'Why would I be happy watching my son be manipulated and used? Make no mistake, Percy - this is no achievement, this is Fudge playing you as a puppet - if you're ashamed of your background, that's your prerogative, but there's no denying this family is known to be close to Dumbledore and Harry, and Fudge is waging a vendetta against-'

‘You’re an idiot to run around with Dumbledore!’ snapped Percy. ‘He’s heading for trouble - gone completely power mad the last few years - you know full well his glory days are over. You’ll end up going down with him-’

‘Fudge is fighting a campaign against Dumbledore when he should be-’

‘I know where my loyalties lie, and it is not with my old teacher! It is with my employer, the leader of my government, with people who look at the facts!’

‘The facts are that Harry-’

'Yes - Harry - here we go,' snapped Percy. 'You rank the word of a child above the expert testimonies and mountains of evidence brought up by the inquiry, above your own boss - no wonder he thinks you're cracked. You’re determined to see conspiracy everywhere-’

‘How can you say that? You saw the aftermath of what happened, you saw him-’

‘I saw the actual dead boy, I saw Diggory!’ snapped Percy. ‘Think what his family is going through, their child’s death being used as a political quaffle-’

‘That is Fudge’s doing! That is his choice! He has chosen to make a mockery of Diggory, to disregard Harry-'

‘To question the story of a teenager,’ corrected Percy. His tone was cold and quiet, the kind of sanctimonious "I'm being the grown up here, actually" patience that Ron found unbearably aggravating. ‘The only evidence is his word, it’s not unreasonable to question a witness. In fact, it’s a perfectly standard part of due process.’

Ron’s growing anger was now twisted with a kind of lurching dread. The snide little comments in the Daily Prophet, which they had all blustered and raged and gasped in revolted disdain at over breakfasts for the past week, suddenly felt sinister. As he thought about it, Percy had never joined in… had always been silent…

‘Percy…’ said Mum, so faintly that, as one, Ron, Ginny, Fred and George all leaned forward to listen. ‘Percy, surely you… surely you believe him? Surely you can’t believe he deserves what they’re saying about him? He’s just a child - it’s like the whole world’s forgotten that he’s just a child.’

'Yes, he's just a child - so why should he be the centre of everything?' Percy demanded. 'Why should he shape our family? Impact our careers?'

'Percy… if you had seen him in the hospital wing, if you had looked into his eyes…'

'Mr Fudge was not convinced,' said Percy, as though that settled the matter.

‘Has he asked you about Harry?’ Dad asked abruptly. Beside Ron, Ginny was shaking. ‘Casually?’

‘I - no more than is to be expected when you have someone famous living under your roof-’

‘What did he ask? What did you say?’

They heard a brief, thick silence, and a sharp exhale of air. ‘He… he’s not relevant to this discussion. This is beyond - this isn’t the issue - the only evidence is his word, as I said-’

‘You don’t believe him.’ Dad’s voice was blank, stunned, quiet. ‘You… you know that boy, Percy.’

‘You don’t believe in me,’ said Percy, and Ron could hear his tears now, the slight thickness to his voice, the sniffs between words. ‘You’d rather believe in some ludicrous conspiracy theory from a teenager who thinks he sees You-Know-Who around every corner than believe that your own son might have worked hard, might be talented, might deserve his career. You’d really think so little of me.’

‘That’s not it. That’s not it at all,’ Dad said quietly, and Mum was crying loudly. ‘We just-’

‘I don’t care!’ said Percy harshly. ‘I don’t care what you think! Not any more! Years I’ve put up with it, years! I’m going - I’m gone - I don’t want to see either of you again - you’ve made it clear that you don’t have my interests at heart, this was your choice-’

‘What do you mean?’ Mum shrieked, and they could hear the scraping of chairs being moved aside, thundering footsteps, Mum begging-

The door was thrust open, and Percy stood for a moment in the hallway, looking up at the four of them sitting on the stairs. His expression was unreadable. Tear tracks shone from beneath his horn-rimmed glasses, and his mouth was a thin, grim line.

‘Move,’ he told them.

‘You’re being a right bellend,’ said Fred at once.

‘MOVE!’

They did not, and Mum had come running after Percy, hanging desperately onto his arm though he tried to shake her off. ‘Come on, Perce,’ she pleaded. ‘Come and sit down, let’s all cool off and talk about this-’

‘Get out of my way,’ Percy told his siblings once more, and now Ron stood.

‘Harry’s part of our family,’ he blurted out furiously.

‘He’s not, Ron,’ Percy growled. ‘He’s your friend, that doesn’t mean everything he says is right - move out my way.’

‘How can you say that!’ Ginny demanded. ‘What’s wrong with you? How can you say all these horrible things?’

Percy started climbing the stairs, pushing Ron aside and stepping over Ginny, furiously struggling past Fred and George who immediately made their bodies as big and awkward and gangling as they could imagine, shouting colourful insults at him as he pushed past and thundered up to his room.

‘He just needs to calm down,’ Mum was squeaking. ‘Go - go to your rooms, let me and Dad talk to him-’

‘No chance!’

‘I haven’t said my piece yet!’

He returned just a few moments later, carrying a bulging bag with a jumper sleeve trailing out, a little line of abandoned socks and a pair of underwear left on the stairs. ‘I’m going to stay with friends,’ he said.

‘You haven't got any,’ goaded George.

‘Be quiet, George!’ Mum wailed. ‘Percy-’

‘Then I’m getting my own place, I’m not staying here anymore - I’m not letting you all drag me down with you. If you’re all going to be traitors to the Ministry I’m going to make sure everyone’s well aware that I don’t belong to this family any more-’

‘You do, Percy, you do - you’ll always be my son-’ Mum’s words were barely audible beneath her crying. Percy pushed past her, and stormed towards the door.

‘Percy!’ Ron shouted, and to his surprise, Percy turned and looked at him.

Ron could not find the words for his contempt, could not find an insult strong enough, could not decide what to do with the rage that was coursing through him. All he could hope was that Percy could feel it in his cold, hard stare. ‘How could you?’

Percy said nothing, simply looked back for a moment, and then turned his back and strode swiftly to the door. Mum was running after him, and though they heard the ear-splitting crack of disapparation, she stood in the doorway shouting his name.

Dad had not followed, and with a creak, Ginny rose beside Ron and descended the last few stairs. She peered through the doorway to the kitchen. ‘Dad?’

Ron heard a splutter, and then dry, heaving sobs. Ginny vanished into the kitchen. Behind him, Fred and George were muttering mutinously, swearing and cursing.

‘What’s he playing at?’

‘He’s an idiot. A big-headed, pompous, ridiculous idiot, we’ve always said it, we were right.’

‘Who does he think he is? Does he really think that promotion is normal? Does he honestly think he’s that extraordinary?’

‘Moron…’

Ron’s jaw was aching from gritting his teeth so hard, his heart was trying to break through his ribcage and go after Percy to beat him.

‘Do you really think he meant that stuff he said to Dad?’ George said. ‘It’s just…’

‘I bet he does, the git,’ said Fred. ‘I bet he really does pretend he’s not part of the family. He’s ashamed of us. Slimy, brown-nosing prick…’

‘All that stuff about poverty? So uncalled for.’

‘That’s it, really, isn’t it? He’s a greedy arsehole.’

‘Well, he’s certainly written himself out of the will now, hasn’t he?’

‘He won’t care, nothing for him to inherit anyway, apparently.’

That prickling, heated anger was back - his very ears were hot with it, he wouldn’t be surprised if steam had been bursting out of them. The memory of Harry, pale and shaken in the hospital wing, his hands gripping Mum’s robes as she hugged him, was lingering in his mind. ‘Did you hear all that crap about Harry? Did you hear what he was saying about him? Harry!’

‘Yeah,’ muttered George. ‘Pillock.’

‘Why would he say that? What the bloody hell is going on with him? He’s gone bonkers. When did he turn into such a - a -’ He still could not quite find a word strong enough.

‘Berk?’ suggested George.

‘Something along those lines…’

‘Easier than admitting he’s horrible, selfish, idiot snob, I suppose,’ said Fred.

‘Money’s always been an issue, but blaming Dad like that is just…’

‘Nasty,’ said Ron, simply.

‘You can make money without completely selling out and betraying your family,’ said Fred seriously. ‘You can do it and keep your integrity.’

‘He’s acting like we weren’t fed enough,’ said George spitefully. ‘Percy didn’t even get that many hand-me-downs, really - Mum and Dad were doing all right before they were hit with twins, and we all know Ginny was probably unexpected.’

‘Was she?’ said Ron distractedly.

‘Are you joking, you were only about eight months old, who picks then to decide to have another baby?’

‘Mum.’

‘Fair.’

‘Anyway,’ said Fred, ‘Percy’s not exactly been hard done by, not really. He’s just always been ashamed we’re not as well-heeled as his smarmy new colleagues at the Ministry.’

‘It’s childish,’ said Ron, who was feeling another lurch of guilt as he thought back on the previous year. ‘It’s really petty…’

‘We’ve all wished the family was better off now and then,’ said George fairly. ‘Who wouldn’t? But that was a seriously low blow. God, poor Dad,' he added, his voice lowering further. 'I'm glad Ginny's gone in to comfort him, I don't even know where to begin.'

‘Do you think he’s really gone for good?’ asked Ron.

‘Hope so,’ said Fred viciously. ‘Hey - one less mouth to feed now, maybe the family’ll be better off.’

'You know what else,' Ron said sharply, his brain whirring, 'did you hear him dodging Dad's question about what he's said about Harry? Good thing he's buggered off before we go to the Order Headquarters, isn't it? Who knows what he would have blabbered about?'

Fred was looking at him as though in a new light. 'You know what, Ronniekins, that is a really excellent and disturbing point. You're a bit of a bright spark at times, aren't you?'

'Brighter than Percy,' Ron muttered.

#chudleycanonficfest2021 #HP fest #submission #tw: mild language

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