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starry-bi-sky · 4 months

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Danyal Al Ghul's missed potential - this kid is not gonna behave like his canon self if he's with the league of assassins until his late formative years, and my reasoning why

(feel free to take this all with a grain of salt this is just my thoughts on it, this is all mostly amusing to me and isn't trying to be negative towards anyone else)

similar to how i was talking about how danny growing up in crime alley would affect him, demon twin aus with danyal al ghul make me laugh a lot (affectionate) because... whose teaching danny to unlearn all the ecofascism he picked up from the league of assassins? whose teaching him to be kind? to be gentle? Not the LoA thats for certain.

(you could plausibly say Jazz but she's only 2 years older than Danny and do you really expect a fellow child to properly explain why X is wrong to another child and have it be 100% effective? i don't doubt it'd help to an extent, but not in the same way an adult explaining it would)

plus a ton of other things, like whose teaching him to value human life? not the LoA. Whose teaching him how to adjust to living with American society after he ends up with the Fentons when he's 8-9-10? Who teaches him that killing is wrong, whose enforcing that?

(not the Fentons if you're going the neglectful parent route, and Jazz can try but i really don't think Danny is going to listen to her, a stranger who isn't even part of his grandfather's league)

How do you teach a child to value human life when the greatest development window for that opportunity has closed and he's already formed his own opinions?

You're not gonna get a Danny whose exactly like his canon attitude if he's staying with the league during his formative years (0-8 years old). you're not. You could get someone LIKE it, potentially, or someone who has traces of it or is similar -- like danny's wit and jokes and sarcasm, and on some level his kindness. but you're not gonna have a carbon copy. Development doesn't work that way. "nature" can only do so much in the face of nurture.

If anything, it doesn't even have to be a major change -- in the league he cans till be kind, but it's probably going to manifest in a different way than what is considered normal. Tough love, for one. But there's gonna be something that affects him negatively. Why make him 'always good/kind' when you can make him a brat who develops into a kinder (if spikier than in canon) person?

TLDR: Danyal Al Ghul would not be like how he is in canon if he's with the league until his late formative years -- not without any lasting pr permanent impacts from the league at least. Missed potential to make him an absolute nightmare like damian was -- especially in his early years when he first arrived to the Fenton house.

(this doesn't apply to danyal al ghul aus where he's either given to the fentons as a baby/is reincarnated/etc. this is mostly aimed for danyal al ghul aus where he fakes his death at like, 7-10 and somehow ends up, personality-wise like his completely canon self by 14 without any differences.)

(and even then if he's five or four, or even three, he would still be traumatized and influenced by the league. he'll just have more time to adjust. the sooner he leaves the league the more likely he is to be like his canon self, but not like an exact copy)

(more under the cut)

Anyways what I'm saying is that there is prime missed Danyal al Ghul potential to make him an absolute NIGHTMARE to the Fentons however way he ends up with them, just like Damian was with the Waynes! Cuz why does Damian get all the fun? Danny got the same training and endoctrine as him! He is also an ex-assassin! Why is Danny the only one who is 'well adjusted and non-violent' hm? Hmm?

Why can't he also be mean, and stabby, and a total stuck-up in some way or another? Have fun with his characterization, its prime opportunity to play play-doh and clay with him! If he starts out as X how does he get the personality traits of Y, and thus become XY?

Like take this with a grain of salt if you will, but make him arrogant. Make him an asshole! Make him a bad person at first! Because he will be! He's the blood son of the batman and you mean to tell me that damian is the only one arrogant about it at first? Make him stabby and mean even at 14 when he's begun to chill out! Have fun with it! If he's with the Fentons at any point past the age of four or five then he's gonna be a nightmare to handle because he still remembers the league and his time there.

(and while it gives him more time to chill the hell out, his time at the league is still gonna leave an impact on him.)

also what im saying as well is have him and sam potentially get along like a house on FIRE. Again, Danny grew up under the views of an ecofascist cult and nobody to challenge those views to him until he got to amity park at whatever age in late formative years he was at. He could be about as intense or even MORE intense about environmental awareness/rights than Sam is!

(also him being supremely unimpressed with Sam's wealth. he gave up a palace in the mountains for this town. because that's funny to me - like let his past have more influence on him! it'll be fun!)

you could have a danny who doesn't kill but doesn't fully understand the value of human life because jazz is like two years older than him and isn't that good at explaining why people's lives are important. he won't kill but he's not morally opposed to it. there's very little chance he actually gets bullied at school because he nearly killed Dash the first time he tried anything.

Danny could have scars, physical ones, because its implied in multiple canon that training starts at toddling (my best bet is 3 at minimum and ~maybe~ 2 but only on the later side of 2. Good fucking luck getting any infant under 2 to do anything you ask, ESPECIALLY assassin training. They're gonna stick the weapon in their mouth sooner than they're gonna do katas. This is coming from a daycare teacher.)

there's more examples of how danny being at the league during his formative years would affect him, but those are just some of them. he could have a sword! An appreciation for weaponry and nature. Maybe he still speaks all shakespearan and formal, does he still make bodily threats to people? If Damian is still threatening people at 14 why can't danny?

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc crossover #dpdc #tldr danyal al ghul has a ton of missed potential of what his behavior would be like if he left the league mid-to-late formative years #this post is specifically directed towards those danyal al ghul posts where he ends up with the fentons when he's like. 8 #like great. who taught him to unlearn all of the LoA's programming #how is he exactly like he was in canon despite being with the LoA during his early childhood #source: i've taken multiple child development classes #this isnt to bash those aus at all its just me thinking its hilarious that danny would even remotely be like his canon personality #especially if he's in the league long enough for damian to remember him #like i love danyal al ghul aus i just think there's not enough being taken into account about how the league would permanently impact him #especially if he leaves later on in life #people are not ponds they are puddles of mud. if you drop a rock into it it's gonna change its shape #its also good creative exercises on how to flesh characters out better and better understand how things in a story may impact a character #good thought exercises with the additional bonus of making danny a violent gremlin like damian is #i dont wanna say this is bashing but i guess it is kinda a criticism on the writing in those aus because you’re telling me this had NO #affect on danny on his personality beyond just ‘oh league bad. league scary’?? cmonnn have some fun #like you mean to tell me that being a child assassin had no lasting impact on him or his personality?? like at all???#he doesnt have an ounce of self-importance/arrogance/anger like damian did?? like none of that *stuck?* he’s just the normal and sane #sibling right off the bat??? five years with the fentons turned him into a complete blankslate?? he has no lasting impact from the league??

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wolfblood-of-anubis · 4 months

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Nina Martin, daughter of Hades, god of the dead, and ruler of the underworld.

Fabian Rutter, son of Athena, goddess of wisdom, warfare, and battle strategy.

Amber Millington, daughter of Aphrodite, goddess of love, beauty, sexuality, and passion.

#ok so look nina took me FOREVER #she was almost a child of apollo too #she was also almost an athena child but that’d make fabina… yknow lets not go down that road #but listen it makes sense Hades is her godly parent; death has surrounded Nina her whole life and her chosen one powers are similar #her parents died when she was a kid; she sees ghosts (sarah; the frobisher-smythes; senkhara; victor sr.)#she has a fear of skulls (and thus death if you wanna think harder on it) i also read an analysis by someone here ab that fear #i like to imagine that while she is a child of hades she is absolutely TERRIFIED of what that entails #she’s afraid of what kind of power lingers inside her because she already doesnt like it; she does NOT want to embrace it #anyway that’s another story; all about personal growth and development #fabian is a child of athena #he’s the brains of group (so is nina but you get it) and in s3 he is left in the brains of the group category solo #amber’s is perfect are you kidding she’s the first one i made #house of anubis #nina martin #fabian rutter #amber millington #hoa

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kaz3313 · 4 months

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Okay I do wanna say that I’m a firm Rarepair shipper that the reason “pair the spares” bothers me is usually it’s reduced the character to no personality OR it’s literally to get the characters “out of the way” for something. When people actually focus on the characters, it becomes an otp, and/or they bring something to the characters I’ll enjoy just about any of the pairings

#I went into the notes trying to find funny haha #and instead I found #SHIPPING BAD STOP SHIPPING!! YOU JUST WANNA SHIP MEN :( NO SHIPPING STOP!#which… I find so so stupid.#there is something to say when dynamics seem to outweigh characters and how that can be annoying #but the best fics I’ve found w/ shipping is when the weight of the character is centreal to the story. and instead they flow from being #more developed then less #fandom

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four-bastard-bustle · 5 months

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get prostheticed idiots

#eddsworld #ew matt #ew tord #nae art #injury #some inconsistencies here cause i kept being like “oo do i wanna make tord have a robo face yes but no but yes but no but”#but ive decided #he gets the cool robot face #and matt gets zombie prosthetics that id also need to develop a bit more #this is a tord centric post #blog essentials #another idea im playing with is tord telling everyone a different story any time they ask about his prosthetics #the truth is that comic in the second pic

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6uny · 1 year

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#wip #new oc mayhaps #wanna explore the idea of a girl designed to kill slowly developing the ability to feel emotions and eventually going rogue #maybe a metaphor for the slow realization you are being gaslit or isolated and finding the will to escape??#idk #i wanna write a story maybe

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finisnihil · 2 months

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It always amuses me when people will approach me with recs like “This book is sooooo good but it’s mostly plot and politics not a lot of spicy stuff” and I’m like my brother in Christ that is exactly the shit I’m into give me that book. I cannot stand chronically horny protagonists like drink some fucking water bestie the stakes will not wait for you to finish banging and if they do they aren’t actually stakes and this is erotica in a fancy dress.

#Nihil Dreams #Tropes #I cannot stand it #I respect it’s audience but I’m getting sick of people #equating a book’s worth and writing to whether it’s got smut #Nothing takes me out of a story more than a character just constantly talking about how they wanna bang their love interest #Let’s focus on developing our characters independent of each other and let dynamics form naturally please

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ghost-proofbaby · 3 months

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It seems that he picks up on her internal battle before it’s even ended. He sees through all that self doubt, and with a heavy sigh, holds out his palms. “Hand them here.” She instinctively recoils, “I am not giving you my weapons.” “I’d hardly consider those pieces of charcoal your weapons. More like enemies, after the beheading you served to the first one.” He wants… the charcoal?

summary: aruna begins to doubt just how skilled she truly is with her daggers, and astarion proves himself useful his first night in camp by offering an act of selfless aid. but not before criticizing her map making skills, of course.

wc: 3.3k+

warnings: continued memory loss, use of daggers (but not for violence), astarion gets a little flirty, and more gameplay recounting (specifically one of the first camp scenes you can trigger with astarion)

a/n: take a shot every time i make astarion say "oh, dear" like a little shit in this fic. also, i promise at some point, this fic will stop being such a play by play of the game lol

masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

“You’re Astarion?”

Aruna swears she’s going to be sick as she stares at the elf with wide eyes. It’s all too much – the leftover adrenaline from having a blade held to her throat, those red eyes boring into her soul, the swirling pressure that squeezes down on her lungs tightly as the realization settles deep inside her bones.

This is Astarion.

“I- Yes?” he questions, entirely on guard as his eyes narrow. He’s quick to recover, and all his hesitation is masked behind a certain air of confidence she can see right through, “As I was saying, I was in Baldur’s Gate… when those… those awful beasts…” he loses his focus repeatedly before finally huffing out a sigh, “I’m sorry, just- Have we met before?”

She doesn’t even know how to explain herself or her outburst. She hadn’t confided in Gale or Shadowheart regarding her letter, and hadn't mentioned Astarion in the last two days. The entire spectacle looks odd to every single one of them; Shadowheart is watching her far more carefully than normal, Gale’s face is twisted up with all that awful curiosity, and Astarion is just… Well, he’s simply plain confused.

He doesn’t recognize her.

She woke up without any memories, not even so much as her own name, with him being one of the only clues to her past self, and he doesn’t even know her.

What sick game is the Universe playing on me?

“Do you two know each other?” Gale asks when Aruna doesn’t answer Astarion, but it only earns him a scoff from the pale one.

“Thank you, for repeating the obvious question I just asked…” Astarion trails off, eyeing the wizard, waiting for proper introduction.

It takes him a few moments to recognize that Astarion is waiting to learn his name before he jumps to life, “Oh! My apologies. I’m Gale, and this is Shadowheart. And that is Aruna – although, I do promise you, she’s usually far less mute.”

He doesn’t fucking know me. I have a letter in my pack right now, heavier than any looted armor, instructing me to save him – and he doesn’t even know me.

“Ah, I see,” Astarion’s voice is surprisingly low, nearly musical in cadence as he hums and turns to look at her properly again. There’s still concern behind his eyes, still searching her for some sort of explanation. “Well, I certainly don’t believe we’ve met before, have we?”

He’s asking something more than just all that he’s voicing. She can pick up on that much; she just doesn’t know what else he really wants from her.

She can’t simply casually say, “Oh, I have no idea. I actually have no memory of my life before all of this. But, hey, fret not! I actually have a letter with your name on it – a letter telling me to save you, even. Small world, eh?”

Or maybe she could. Far more odd situations have arisen in the last forty eight hours.

“I don’t think we have,” she says slowly, being sure to enunciate each word with cautious care. They feel wrong, heavy on her tongue as though she’s telling a dire lie.

But was she the one lying, or was Astarion? If that letter of hers truly was referring to him, he must know her.

Is it possible he held his blade to her throat because he knows her?

“Well, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way,” he flashes a charming smile, and she realizes just how disarming he is capable of being. If she weren’t so on guard at the moment, honed in entirely on him for every subtle change, she wouldn’t notice it was an act, “What do you know about these wretched things inside our heads?”

The rest of the conversation, Aruna only has one goal in mind: Astarion will be joining them in her travels, no matter the cost. She matches his act with one of her own, flourishing with her own set of honeyed words in an effort to garner the barest hint of trust from him. And it proves to not be overly difficult; it’s as though they share the goal as something common between them, because the moment her offer of him joining the small group leaves her mouth, he’s eager to agree. Almost too eager.

All strange circumstances aside regarding Aruna, it’s still a valid response. They have better chances of survival if they face it in numbers.

And so Astarion joins them. Brimming with flamboyant movements and an extravagant smile that she notices stays half-closed, he offers to bring up the rear of the group just as Aruna announces the need to go back to camp.

“Resting again? So soon?” Shadowheart’s face twists as if she doesn’t notice the quickly setting sun, “We haven’t even found a healer yet. Or at least found a lead for one in the area-”

“We can find one tomorrow,” Aruna interrupts, turning to face her small group of rag tags. She can’t stand it – the hope shining in each of their faces, the undeserving faith that lies behind their eyes after just two days. Astarion is the only one resembling something she can stomach, and mostly because he looks entirely bored with the current argument, “I need to update our map and we really should try and put more effort into the camp before we pick up any more…” she trails off, and Astarion finally looks at her, half-smirking as though daring her for an insult. Something fires up inside of her – as though it’s a game, as though they both know she doesn’t mean it when she finishes the thought with a sarcastic quip of, “Strays.”

“Oh, darling,” he puts a hand to his chest, taking a few steps around Shadowheart to be closer to her. When he leans forward, it’s as though he’s sharing a secret with just Aruna, “If you wanted me to purr for you, all you had to do was ask.”

It’s not a secret, though. Everyone else hears. Gale takes a sharp breath in, and Shadowheart only huffs in disamusement.

And Aruna has to bite back everything inside of her to not react, to not give him any satisfaction. It’s as though he sees right through her, as if the laugh she had swallowed down had escaped nonetheless, to grace only his ears.

Neither of their shields are working very well against one another. Their souls already seem to know one another, staring across the vast caverns between them, a whisper of I know you echoing in both sets of ears.

She doesn’t stand a chance, and she’s hardly known him for a few hours.

—

Camp is quiet.

Shadowheart is brooding, Gale is humming to himself as he lays out a rug that no doubt came from his damned bag of holding to claim his corner of the camp, and Astarion has taken to sitting near the fire pit. All lost in their own worlds, all completely silent as Aruna gathers what she needs to complete at least one of the tasks she’d insisted needed to be taken care of.

The map. She needs to attempt to update it, add to the sad squiggles and lines to indicate that area they explored today. Even if they never return to that beach, she wants to know that it’s there. It exists.

Charcoal pencils that they had looted from a chest amongst the wreckage days prior are lined up on the stone bench, the surface almost too high for her to comfortably utilize it as a table when she sits on the ground before it. But she’s stubborn, and it’s the best she can do in their current situation, so she makes it perform as a table.

She’s just started to ponder if she should retrieve one of her daggers to sharpen the sticks of charcoal when Astarion notices.

“What are you doing?” he asks, sounding more accusatory than curious as she unsheathes a knife, already fisting a pencil.

“Sharpening my pencils,” she murmurs, mentally pleading with her shaking hands to steady as she brings the edge of the blade a few centimeters from the tip of the art tool, angling it so that she can begin to shave it down to a precise point, “I’m updating the map.”

“You have a map?”

She sighs, finally lowering the dagger and charcoal. Her hands won’t stop shaking, and Astarion really isn’t helping.

“Yes, we have a map,” she nods to the piece of paper on the stone before her. Astarion wastes no time in getting up from where he had sat on one of the bedrolls rounding a fallen tree log so that he could take a seat on what was meant to serve as her table tonight, not his bench.

He looks down at her sorry excuse for a drawing of a forest, the center being camp.

“Oh, dear. Well…” he leans in closer, squinting at a grouping of dots that were meant to symbolize the beach where she had woken up, “You certainly weren’t an artist before all of this, were you?”

“Excuse me?”

He glances up at her through his lashes, lifting a brow as if he was pointing out the obvious, “Don’t get me wrong. The idea of a map is an excellent one, I’ll give you that, but this…. This leaves something to be desired.”

She doesn’t know why she’s taking offense. She knows her art skills are shit. She knows the map is pitiful.

“It’s not complete yet.”

“Clearly.”

“We just needed some way to keep track of our surroundings.”

“I agree.”

“It doesn’t have to look pretty.”

“Oh, but wouldn’t it be so much nicer to look at if it was more attractive?” he tsks at her.

She hates it. She hates that his criticism, his disapproval, gets under her skin so easily.

She picks her dagger back up and brings it back to that piece of charcoal in her left hand, more determined than before, “If you hate my rendition so much, make one for yourself. I’m sure you could do a far superior job, right?”

Snap.

Her hands were still shaking when she struck against the soft black chunk in her hands. The angle had been off, the amount of pressure she was applying was too much. She had been distracted by him and now, she was suddenly holding a broken piece of charcoal rather than a nicely sharpened one.

They both stare down at the mess she’s created across her palms and weapon for a few seconds, deathly silent. She’s trying to not throw an absolute fit, quickly reaching her breaking point; he’s trying to bite down all his laughter, almost feeling sorry for her.

“Oh, dear.”

An echo of his earlier words, this time choked up behind his silent amusement. Slightly more exaggerated, far more taunting than they had originally been.

“Don’t,” she quietly insists, eyes flickering up to already find mischief burning in his, “Don’t you dare. I-”

“You have wielded those daggers before, haven’t you?”

She opens her mouth, prepared to bite back with an of course I have, when it hits her that she’s actually not entirely sure.

Have I?

She had wielded them in the fight against the brains, hadn’t she? And she’d been able to use them quite well, albeit the fight was against a couple of brains on legs, and she had a powerful wizard and strategic cleric on her side.

It seems that he picks up on her internal battle before it’s even ended. He sees through all that self doubt, and with a heavy sigh, holds out his palms. “Hand them here.”

She instinctively recoils, “I am not giving you my weapons.”

“I’d hardly consider those pieces of charcoal your weapons. More like enemies, after the beheading you served to the first one.”

He wants… the charcoal?

She doesn’t give herself any more time to question it, grabbing for the two remaining pencils and handing them over before she can even guess what his end goal here is.

That thing inside of her is still whispering, pleading for her to trust him. She doesn’t understand why – she can’t comprehend how he’s the mysterious Astarion she’s meant to save, or how she could possibly know him without him knowing her. None of it makes a lick of sense, and yet, she’s still handing him the charcoal he requests and not even voicing a single concern outloud.

He unsheathes his own dagger quickly. His hands don’t shake as hers had. The angle of his blade is precise and his stroke is quick as in mere seconds, he’s taken the chunky stick and shaved it down to a point.

He’s sharpening them. For her, presumably.

“How did you…” she whispers in questioning as he holds out the newly sharpened charcoal, the one he had yet to turn into a point still resting beside his thigh. Curls of ashen black litter the ground around the two of them.

“Skilled hands, darling,” the nickname strikes embers inside of her, kindling of flames ready to be fanned into a wildfire if he so pleased, “And some of us know how to use our daggers.”

She plucks it from his fingers, holding it up to examine the delicate point in the dying light of the day.

Perfect. She wasn’t about to admit it to him, but his handiship was perfect.

“This is the part where any one with common manners might say thank you,” he muses, condescending as ever as he picks up the second stick and begins to twirl it, marking his knuckles in the faintest grey.

Against her better judgment, her eyes find his as she all but whispers, “Thank you.”

It’s more sincere than she had meant. And she can’t understand it herself, but it feels like she’s thanking him for far more than just the charcoal. That quiet voice inside of her teems, preening as she continues to look him in his eyes. Those waves of deja vu are beckoning at her shore again, but this time, she’s almost fearful to dip her toes back in. It had hurt badly enough when their tadpoles connected – she doesn’t know what would happen if she succumbed to that feeling of knowing him, recognizing this scene from what feels like another life.

What had he done for her in past lives that warranted thanking him so sincerely? What whispers of forgotten memories between them warranted the firm instruction of saving him?

As she pulls herself away from the useless pondering, she takes note of Astarion’s reaction. He very clearly hadn’t expected her to actually thank him. The shock ripples across his features, he leans back as though she might have smacked him with her genuine words. For just a moment, hard garnet softens and she’s once more reminded of friendship. She could be friends with him; she could be friends with all of them, but especially him.

Just as she’s leaning into the idea, he’s clearly running from it.

“So, we’re resting here for the night?” he asks in faux nonchalance, effectively changing the subject, “Officially turning in?”

I could be your friend, but only if you let me in, it seems.

She’s not blind. She knows pressing the topic any further would probably end badly for the two of them. “Yes. And if all goes to plan, this will be our permanent camp. For however long our journey requires, of course.”

He’s quiet as he focuses his attention back on the charcoal pencil he had been fiddling with, and with quick movements, he takes to whittling it down just as he had the first one. This time, however, he’s slower. As though he’s begging for the action to fill the awkward silence so he won’t have to.

“Why do you ask?” This, she decides, she can press on. She can push him on this topic, “Never slept in the woods before?”

She doesn’t know why she expects him to keep up a callous act. Expects to be met with resistance and a snarky attitude. But no such thing is on display as he swipes at the charcoal one final time with his blade before he looks up at her, and he’s still softened. Churning ever so faintly, like the calmest of oceans. She knows there’s dangerous depths beyond, a certain darkness she only sees the shadow of behind the look he gives her, but the surface appears so inviting for the time being. Cool, refreshing, reflecting speckles of moonlight in his eyes.

“It’s all a little... New to me, I admit,” his voice is something softer than usual. Soft, soft, soft. Why does she recognize that softness inside of him so easily? She picks up the brief shrug of his shoulders before he continues, offering her more than she could have asked for, “The night usually means bustling streets, bursting taverns. Curling up in the dirt and resting is, uh…. A little novel.”

She’s completely bewitched through the explanation. Drinking in every movement, the way he speaks with his hands, the fluctuations in his tone. He dives back into that usual charming voice when he mentions the taverns – his tone brims with youth as his face softens and he says his final three words. The lift of his brows, the nerves of the small smile he pushes forward; she clings to every bit of it, in a damning effort to piece together who exactly the man in front of her was.

He’s pretty. If she’s learned nothing else, it’s that he’s pretty. The kind of pretty that would ruin her if she wasn’t more careful.

The kind of pretty that might have already ruined her, if that mysterious letter was any sort of clue.

“You should try,” she doesn’t know why she’s whispering, but she is. Mostly everyone has retreated to their own spaces, their own bedrolls. They’re the only two left within the vicinity of the fire dying out in the middle of the camp, “Rest, I mean. We’ll need it for whatever tomorrow may bring.”

He’s quick to shake his head, holding out that second pencil to her finally. It’s as well carved as the first one, perfect for the purpose she had for them, “Oh, no. I’m in no place to rest yet. Today has been a lot. I need some time to think things through, to process this.”

As she takes the pencil, adding it beside the first on the stone, she knows there's a catch yet to be revealed in his words. “Are you sure? I don’t mind taking the first watch.”

It had been an unspoken agreement – there would always be someone awake, keeping safe eyes on the camp as others rested.

“I’m positive. Actually, I insist that you rest. I’ll keep watch instead.”

She shouldn’t trust him. She shouldn’t so willingly put her faith in some random pale elf to keep her safe in her sleep.

And yet, she does.

Her logical thinking and her instinctive reactions don’t align. They never seem to do so thus far in her journey, especially with him. It’s more than just the letter reminding her to save him; there’s a twisting in his gut, a burning in the back of her mind, as if she’s known him far longer than the day has been. As if their time together transgresses far beyond the mere hours they’ve been acquainted. She trusts him ardently – to a dangerous level. She can recognize it, but she can do nothing about it. The feeling surely can’t be mutual. Her gut is surely leading her wrong.

“Thank you. I’ll sleep better for it.”

There are those two little words again, slipping off her tongue with an earnesty that rattles them both to their cores. At least this time, she hardly looks him in his eyes as she says it.

“The pleasure is all mine,” he covers up any shock with theatrics, offering a small bow to her, “Sweet dreams.”

Her dreams are anything but sweet that night. But they do distract her just enough that she never notices the shadow strangely similar to his stature, sneaking out the edges of camp, slinking off into the woods without a sound.

#my writing #ghost's stories #astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion fanfic #astarion x tav #astarion x oc #astarion romance #astarion bg3 #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #' have we met before' the note i put on the google doc on that line good lord #he has no idea #she has no idea #WAH #no but in all seriousness we will be entering less rewriting game scenes very soon because that's just plain boring #i wanna focus on them in between those events more #but i also do enjoy how i can twist and turn the circumstances of his triggered scenes into them developing trust #once we hit a very important camp scene i'll start with the time jumps

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stop-breaking-my-heart-dragonage · 4 months

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This. This. This entire conversation with Morrigan actually makes me want to sob. She and my Tabris always becomes close friends over the course of DAO; that, paired with the fact that my Tabris always romances Alistair, makes everything about this hurt so much more when you take DAO's ending into account.

Her confusion over why my Tabris didn't send her away. Why she didn't abandon her after they learned of Flemeth's plans. Why Tabris went out of her way to slay Flemeth and bring her the true grimoire. She asks Tabris why, and is baffled when the answer is, "I did it because I'm your friend," as if it's that simple.

The way Morrigan looks at the warden, the way her voice cracks when she says, "I want you to know that while I may not always prove... worthy... of your friendship, I will always value it."

She knows how this will end; Flemeth sent her with the wardens with the end goal of stopping the blight and obtaining the old god soul through the dark ritual. Morrigan knows that Alistair and Tabris are the only Grey Wardens here, and assuming they don't find more, one of them will have to die defeating the archdemon unless they agree to do the dark ritual.

With that context, her asking Alistair, "And what if a Grey Warden has forced to choose between the Warden he loved and ending the Blight? What should his choice be?" suddenly has so much subtext weaved through the words that I'm gonna start foaming at the mouth. She's practically telling Alistair that a warden has to die. She's scrutinizing his reaction to find any hint that suggests he would agree to the dark ritual in order to save himself and the woman he loves. And when he doesn't choose, she has her answer.

Morrigan made comments to Tabris about him, almost hopeful that their relationship was just a physical thing between them and not actually riddled with feelings... and then gives disapproval when Tabris says she loves him.

She doesn't want the warden to die; hell, she doesn't want Alistair to die, either; whether because she does actually care about him or because she knows it'll break her friend's heart if she loses him, or both!

Things would be so much easier if the only two Grey Wardens left to defeat the blight didn't fall in love, wouldn't they, Morrigan?

She knows that in the end, no matter the outcome, she will lose the woman she called sister and it's devastating.

Morrigan, who has never known true friendship. Who grew up isolated in the woods with an abusive mother and terrible implications for her future. Who discovered said mother planned to take over her body just as she did with her other daughters. Who doesn't understand kindness as it was rarely given to her without a catch. Who isolates herself from the others in camp. Who finally has a companion she cares about... and in the end, if her plan works and the dark ritual is completed, she'll end up pregnant and alone and wearing Tabris' resentment like a tender wound on her heart.

Or Tabris will reject the ritual, and will die to the archdemon.

Or her lover will.

I just- the dynamic between the warden, romanced Alistair, and Morrigan is so good and painful and rich that I'm gnawing on furniture as we speak.

#dragon age origins #dao #alistair theirin #dao alistair #dao morrigan #dao tabris #warden tabris #i'm replaying dao right now in case my recent written posts haven't made that obvious #the relationship dynamics the warden has with each of the companions is so so soooo good like there isn't a companion i dislike #i play into the slow burn with alistair's romance but it's not even just the romance aspect it's also their friendship too #playing dao and not romancing alistair would feel wrong at this point for me it's so crucial to the entire story and its development #and i love morrigan's friendship with the warden and how gutted tabris is when she comes clean about everything and offers the ritual #and then bails once everything is over and tabris is torn between hating her and feeling hurt and not wanting morrigan to be alone again #i talked more in depth about morrigan and the ritual in a previous post but it's a lot... especially when it comes to the witch hunt dlc #oh and then there's the friendship between tabris and zevran like don't even get me started on that sksksks i won't be able to stop #even a character like oghren who is the last person you'd think tabris would ever become friends with since he's y'know *oghren*#but i'll go on the record and say there's more to oghren that gets overlooked and overshadowed by his glaring flaws #and i don't wanna talk about leliana... she makes me too sad like ever since my last playthrough where i accidentally triggered her romance #while i was deep in alistair's romance i have a really hard time not reading into the things she says to tabris #in my last playthrough i dunno what i did but she confessed to tabris even though she was fully aware that tabris and alistair were togethe #and it was a *mess* okay like it really felt like we killed marjolaine and leliana was in a vulnerable position yet was hardened enough #to be like 'i know she and alistair are together but i'll take my shot anyway and attempt to break them up' like.... noooooo leliana D:#and the rest of the game it felt like she was bitter and still in love with tabris and i felt *horrible*#i just said i don't wanna talk about it but hhhnnngggg i'm taking extra precautions to not have a repeat of that this time #excuse my tag ramblings i'm just very passionate about dao and the companions okay #also want to note that this is my interpretation of morrigan's motivations based on how i play the game and my warden #so others might view this reaction and the warden/romanced alistair/morrigan dynamic differently and in that case #i would be interested to hear that different interpretations because those are always fun to read

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