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lordgrimoire · 1 year

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The Goonion would like a Word

Bruce had never had an experience like this before, letters of ransom from any of his rogues? Certainly! But the Goonion only ever left messages when they were paying bail for their own, and he was becoming worried as to why Jason’s Goons had posted a message to him via The Goonion.

“To Batman of Gotham, New Jersey, United States of America, We would like to have a word with you in regards to a pair of Meta Adjacent individuals we would like to harbor here in Gotham, we are only extending the courtesy to you regarding them due to the fact that the United States Government refuses to acknowledge them as people due to their conditions, the Boss said he would tell you himself, if he has not already he likely will soon. Suffice to say a family of three is coming to Gotham as their last chance at a safe harbor and we would prefer it if you did not get on their cases. We hope to receive your response without any broken bones, The Goonion, Gotham, New Jersey Branch.” Tim was staring at the paper, the stationary of The Goonion, with confusion, Dick, Barbara, Cass, and Stephany seemed rather accepting of it, and Damian was confused.

“What is this, Goonion?” His youngest asked, staring at the paper as Bruce read over the return address, the Iceberg Lounge, a server named Thomas.

“Ah, we haven’t told you about them yet have we?” Dick began, sitting back. “They’re nice folks, help get the Goons payed and are usually the ones to put their feet down when Rogues get outta hand for normal folks, for instance, the Joker does not have the stamp of approval for, many reasons. But primarily it’s due to his former Henchmen, including Harley, snitching on him to the Goonion.” Dick typed something into his phone, Damian’s own device pinging in his pocket, likely more info. “The Goonion has an odd relationship with us, we don’t go after them and they try to keep things regulated, Jason could probably tell you more, and it seems from the letter we do have to talk to him.” The door to the cave opened, and while Bruce looked up to see his second son come walking down the steps he seemed, tired, run down even.

“The Goonion already got to you? Good on them.” Jason huffed as he sat next to Damian, ruffling the boy’s head much to his exasperation and attempted swatting. “Situations fucked, the letter doesn’t even touch on the bigger parts but it gets, real fucky like, possibly gonna want to get Uncle Clark and Aunt Diana in on it fucky, definitely Constantine as well.” Well Bruce knew his flags rather well and if Jason was advocating for not only a League intervention but one headed by John Constantine? Bruce decided to address the original topic first.

“They can stay, but they will have to answer questions.” Jason huffed and leaned back.

“Ground rules then, the two younger kids? Meta Adjacent? They have a similar situation to me, and it turns out Ra’s is playing with not even a tenth of a full puzzle with the Lazarus Pit.” Everyone around the table stiffened, save Alfred who had come in behind Jason with a tea service, as Jason took a sip from the mug placed before him and nodding to Alfred. “Thank you. The details are spotty but the abridged form is this, the Lazarus pit is the remains of a bunch of people from a dimension to which we all go when we die, the residents therein call it the Infinite Realms since it services everyone that means every Person who has a faith or doesn’t has a place there. Furthermore these three’s parents who passed recently in a Government Sanctioned raid made a Portal to the Infinite Realms, and Lazarus Water? Corrupted, dirty, a literally soul eroding form of what makes up matter on that end of the divide, Ectoplasm.” Jason withdrew a vial from his pocket, a bright green and sluggish substances was held within. “This is pure ectoplasm, The Parents, a pair known as Doctors Jack and Madeline Fenton, introduced me to a Doctor from the Infinite Realms, suffice to say I am feeling much less angry and far more at peace with things, though apparently being angry is normal for the type of “Dead but Brought Back” I am.” Jason placed the vial on the table and slowly pushed it to Bruce, taking his hand back when he reached for it.

“Jazz, the eldest, is a student at Gotham University, or she is now, identities and the like will be handled later but for the younger two it’s time for some non starters, because apparenlty if you ask an Ecto Entity or anyone touched by the Infinite Realms how they died it sets off a “I Must Kill You Now” trigger in their head, essentially forcing them to suffer their deaths all over again until they deal with who or whatever asked the question, so no being a little nosey punk about it Tim.” Tim jolted at his name being said instead of Jason’s nickname for him but he nodded when he realized that his elder brother hadn’t looked away from him. Bruce was still proud the two had started to mend things so well, but as he stared at the vial a question swirled in his mind.

“Why did the Goonion send a letter then?” Jason stiffened slightly and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Alrighty, so you know how I’ve been going to College classes since a year ago? I met Jazz at one of them, as Jason Todd, son of Bruce Wayne and card carrying member of Red Hood’s Goonion. This was, sometime around Spring Semester, soooooo” Steph lunged up, mouth open with a squeak until Cass pulled her back down. Jason sighed and continued. “We started dating last year, she wants to be a psychiatrist and maay have started working for The Goonion in Star City when one of their guys ended up on her mentor’s patient bench. Her academics are already transferred to Gotham U but she’s still looking for a new Mentor.” Bruce made an affirmative noise at that, encouraging, Jason was holding something back, the younger siblings hadn’t been named yet. “The Goonion hired her former mentor and Jazz followed them in since they have really good benefits, and she has experience with the whole Capes and Crooks thing already. Though she told me she would rather she and her siblings explain that.”

So, Jasmine Fenton, after being a student for at least a year in Psychiatry, became a Goonion Psychiatrist, and then when her Parents died she takes her younger siblings, one of whom is rather recently adopted into the family by the looks of it, and flees her hometown, one Amity Park Illinois, which has a disturbingly blank file in the League databanks. “Yeah,” Jason began, looking over at the Batcomputer, scanning the total lack of data from two year ago on. “The Government locked their hometown down quick, they have a branch called the Ghost Investigation Ward, who managed to get a law in before our current Shining Dome of a President, was sworn in, apparenlty old Lex has been trying to rip that law to shredds since he found out about it and there’s something akin to a coup attempt going on from the GIW towards Lex. I looked into those guys already, I think it would be wiser to side with the current President and not a bunch of Loons who would dissect Uncle Clark and his kids if they got the chance.” Damian jerked slightly, turning to face Jason.

“What?”

“Yeah, Krypton is dead it’s a dead world, by some of the smaller parts of the Anti-Ecto Acts that means that all Kryptonians are ecto-beings and by that law have no sentience, and are just emotions imprinted on ectoplasm, given the fact I died once they would pick me up as well in a heartbeat, for “disposal” as they call it.” The room had become Still, Dick seemed furious, staring at the damning lack of info alongside a pale Tim, Damian who was still staring at Jason realized just why his brother had looked back to him and was also looking at Cass, they had been brought back by the pit, they were by Federal Law non-sentient. Bruce felt the arms of his chair bend slightly under his grip before breathing out his frustration.

“You have a plan?” Jason nodded, he seemed to be expecting worse, you really didn’t give him a reason not to, and began speaking.

“The Goonion will be dealing with protecting people who fall under the acts, we just need the JL to take this problem and light it on fire, drag it into the public eye and raid a few of the GIW’s bases that may have people, both from our side and theirs, in captivity. I will be going tonight to get Jazz and her Siblings from a bolt hole of theirs, an Aunt in Arkansas whose bound to be investigated is hiding them, I just need to borrow something.” Bruce allowed an eyebrow to climb up his forehead, he wants to borrow the Batplane for it.

“I’ll allow it, go and get them once it starts to become dark out, I’ll expect you back by dawn, do you have a place set up?” Jason blinked at him before nodding.

“Yeah, one of the safer corners of Crime Alley, closest part to Gotham University, three bedrooms, two bath, someone maaay have helped me pick it out.” Bruce nodded, he would get nowhere in trying to guess which of his other children, Alfred, or any of Jason’s friends, or even some of their own collectively reformed Rogues could have helped Jason in this, but suffice to say it was a safe harbor and one backed by some rather tough figures. The Goonion alone would give anyone trouble, but with them being in Crime Alley that meant that they were essentially in an invaders nightmare. Dead ends, construction, dilapidated or abandoned buildings, it was a natural ambush site. Jason then put a box on the table, it was a scanner of some sort.

“One of the reasons they’re coming here is this,” he flipped a switch and the machine began to frantically beep, practically sounding a long tone before Jason flipped it off again, “Gotham sits on a similar point to Amity Park, and as such we are LOADED with ambient ectoplasm, constantly stirred up by magic based curses of one sort or another it essentially blinds ectoplasmic tracking devices.” Bruce nodded, accepting the device as it was pushed down the table to him. “Jazz had apparently decided that they would run to Gotham if things went sideways like this anyways, we’re the closest ambiently effected city to Amity not ringed by GIW outposts and scanners.” Bruce paused in his observing of the machine, the GIW had surrounded other cities that had high ambient ectoplasm?

“Where?” Jason pulled out a small notepad.

“Well, Jazz wouldn’t tell us, but the Goonion has it’s ways, The GIW has encircled the following cities, Salem, Boston, and Springfield of Massachusetts, New Orleans, New York, Philadelphia and Gettysburg of Pennsylvania, Chicago Illinois, Savanah Georgia, D.C., and then San Francisco and San Antonio of California and Texas respectively, I asked for this list at 6 this morning, I was handed this current version at Noon, these were just the overt ones. Metropolis, Bludhaven, and Gotham, are currently not surrounded, there are locations between them but not many.” Bruce stood, watching as addresses were placed on the table, each assigned a sticky note and details.

“You should get ready to go get Jazz and her siblings, we’ll deal with this.” Bruce tapped on the sticky note closest to him. Jason nodded and stood, following Alfred out of the Batcave as Bruce looked to the rest of his family. “We have targets, we have details, Tim, dig up what you can on the GIW, Damian, Dick, Cass, Stephanie, your with me, we’re going to raid as many of these places as we can tonight, Barbara,”

“I’ve got comms, got it.” She interrupted, rolling over to the Bat computer and preparing for daylight operations

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faeriichaii · 3 months

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hiii! Since your requests are open, could I ask for a Legolas × avari!reader (it's a type of elf in Tolkien lore)? I just have in my mind a repeat scene where Legolas invites Gimli and his partner to Mirkwood and Thranduil having a mini heart attack like "One of my only son's best friends is a dwarf and his betrothed is an avari".

But later on he ends up liking them :)

Blessing ~ Legolas x Avari!Reader

A/N: Hi :) omg I love it!! I struggled like a lot and idk why haha because like I kinda was lacking in a bit of knowledge idk idk but I still hope I nailed the avari part?? But yeah I hope you enjoy the story <33

Avari: a branch of elven race, who never journeyd to Aman and instead stayed in Middle-Earth

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Warnings: fluff, Thranduil being a bit cold at the beginning :( ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Words: 1.3k ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Request: Yes (thank you <33) ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Meleth Nin ~ My Love ࿐ྂ

Summary: The journey of the fellowship ended a long time ago and suddenly you receive the invitation of the prince to join him in Mirkwood, meeting his father. But how will Thranduil react to seeing his sons best friend being a dwarf and his betrothed being an Avari?

A smile graced your lips, as you saw Legolas standing beside his father. Both of them waiting for you and Gimlis arrival. You had received a letter a few weeks ago. The letter was written by Legolas, who invited you, as well as the dwarf, to meet up in Mirkwood. You remember that the three of you constantly joked and laughed about your different hometowns. Gimli, for example, always bragged about his home and the customs. You always expected to first travel there instead of Mirkwood. You especially remember that one time while you guys were eating the food prepared by one of the hobbits. The orange hue of the fire dancing away, as the laughter of the group filled the place.

“And I definitely would like to challenge the elvling to a little duel.” Gimli said, as he finished his dinner. You raised an eyebrow while looking at Legolas, who sat beside you. “Which one of us do you mean exactly?” You asked the dwarf. “How about the both of you against me? You won’t even stand a chance, so you might as well team up!” “A little bit confident don’t you think?” The elven prince set the arrow down, that he just finished. “I remember getting around ten more kills than you.” A smirk plastered his face, enraging the dwarf. “You did NOT have ten more kills than me!” Laughing slightly at their little antics, you smiled at them.

“Well, what kind of challenge would await us, if we would visit your hometown?” You asked him, also preparing new arrows for your bow. “It’s called the rite of sigin-tarâg. We will use hammers to smash up stones and the first one to lose normally gets banished from all dwarven realms. But we will just do the challenge.” “So you want to test our strength against yours?” The elven prince asks, as he hands you a finished arrow to put away with your own. A small smile formed on your lips at his sweet gesture. “This won’t even be a test, because I already know the results. I will beat the both of ya.”

“Whatever you say Gimli.” He began to grumble at you while searching for his axe, in order to sharpen it a little more. “I think you should visit me at Mirkwood after the journey ends.” Legolas suddenly said. You halted your movements. Visit him in Mirkwood? You bit the inside of your cheek, as you thought about visiting Legolas at some point in your life. You have to visit him. The both of you are courting, so of course you have to. But what would his father think if he suddenly introduces him to you? You were an elf yes, but you were an Avari. It was known, that most elves do not like your kind. Avari doesn’t mean ‘The Unwilling’ without reason. “Meleth Nin, are you alright?” The prince carefully asks you, laying a hand on your thigh. “Yes, I am alright. I think visiting sounds like a splendid idea. But only if Gimli is also joining us.” You say, while taking his hand on your thigh into your own, intertwining your fingers. If you had to face his father for the first time, then at least you would drag the dwarf into it as well. A laugh escaped his lips. “Oh, my father will be so excited to meet the both of you.”

And now you and Gimli were standing in front of the king of Mirkwood, while Legolas stood beside him. His eyebrow was raised, as he scanned Gimli from head to toe. “So, this is your… friend?” The dwarf let out a grunt, followed by a few grumbles at the attitude received right after his arrival. “Yes, I have told you quite a few stories about Gimli.” Thranduils eyes moved from the dwarf to you. You did a quick curtsy as a polite introduction followed suit. “My king, it is wonderful to finally make your acquaintance.” “So, you are the betrothed my son has mentioned?” His tone was slightly cold, which in result made you worry a tide bit. You didn’t wish for him to already dislike you. Especially if you haven’t given him a reason to do so. “Yes, yes I am. Which is why I am very grateful to be able to visit Mirkwood for a few days. And of course, to meet you, my king.” A small smile graced your lips, as you tried your best to get on Thranduils good side. He nodded gently at your words, before turning around and leading you through the castle grounds. Legolas walked beside you, gently taking your hand in his. “How are you doing Meleth Nin?” He whispered into your ear. A sigh left your lips, as you squeezed his hand. “I am alright. I just worry that your father might not give us his blessing. That he might already dislike me for who I am.”

Your gaze wandered to the floor. Suddenly Legolas stopped walking, making you halt in your steps. He took your face in his hands. The warmth of his palms made your face heat up, making you feel safe and sound. “Meleth Nin, I love you through middle earth and back. I only wish to spend my lifetime with you by my side. It doesn’t matter if he gives us his blessing, because nothing could ever prevent me from being with you. A soft blush dusted your cheeks. Your heart beating a little bit faster at the sweet words he just whispered. “I love you too Meleth Nin.” You whispered, before giving him a quick kiss on the lips. Taking his hands from your face, you intertwined your fingers with his once more.

The day passed rather quickly with the three of you being together once more. Even the king seemed to slowly warm up to the both of you, his welcoming scowl long gone. “I did not expect you to be so well read, dwarf.” “Don’t underestimate me too much.” Gimli said, as he laughed heartedly, the chalice filled with the elven wine in his hand swaying from side to side. You could already tell that the dwarf began to get tipsy from the alcoholic beverage. A small smile graced your lips at the scene in front of you, the light atmosphere making you feel more relaxed than at the beginning.

“I also must admit, that I am very impressed by your knowledge (Y/N). I did not expect an Avari to know so much about the elven history.” “Thank you for the praise my king. But it is only natural for me to know about the elven history. It is after all a very important subject and part of my culture.” The king took a sip from his golden rimmed chalice, before continuing his chat with you. “I do have to confess one more thing. That upon first hearing about you and my son’s courtship I saw it as… ill-starred. A misfortune bound to happen. I did not want to accept that he was willing to court an Avari out of all elves who roam the realm.” Legolas immediately grasped your hand, giving you a sense of security. You took a shaky breath as you looked at the king. “But now, after seeing you with him and the tender care and love you both share, I deem it cruel to rip the both of you apart. I also seem to start to grow fond of you, as well as his little friend.”

A bright smile adored your lips at the kings’ words. Squeezing Legolas’ hand, the both of you shared a look. “Thank you, my king. Your words mean the world to me.” You watched as a gentle smiled graced his lips, before they were covered by his chalice once more. “See, I told you my father would start to warm up to you. He might seem cold at the beginning but he still has a heart deep within.” The prince whispered to you, before giving you a soft kiss on your cheek. Warmth filled your heart, as all your worries disappeared into thin air. You got the blessing of the King of Mirkwood.

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pillow-anime-talk · 9 months

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congrats on 4k, my fav writer! can i ask for buddha with fem!reader and number 14? it could be friends/lovers or something similar :) love you

# tags: scenario; strangers/?; a bit of comedy; fluff; size difference; human!reader; precious!reader; playful!buddha; ragnarok time; sfw

includes: female reader ft. buddha {ror}

author’s note: thank you so much, anonnie! love your idea so i hope you like it!

14. “Need some help, shortie?”

Buddha loved to sit in nature surrounded by animals and plants, so exploring the gardens built in the arena was his favorite thing from the beginning of the first fight. He always sat under the trees with his favorite sweets, and sometimes he just took short naps; very often between conversations with other gods or the eldest Valkyrie and her younger sister.

Currently there was a battle between the most powerful sumo of the human world – Raiden Tameemon – and the god worshiped in India – Shiva. The Buddha was next, and his plan was slowly approaching its culmination. Before the fight, however, he wanted to rest and gather his thoughts, while enjoying a sweet snack in the form of a colorful lollipop, which he managed to smuggle.

Unfortunately (or not?), his favorite tree was taken. A young woman with a beautiful skin tone and a friendly-looking face was plucking juicy fruits in a shade of delicate purple mixed with pink from the huge plant. I would like to mention that she was not greedy and chose only very ripe fruit, ideal for harvesting. She had only three in her small basket and was trying to pick the last fruit, which unfortunately was much higher than she could reach. Her light dress looked really good on her body, while the jewelry decorating her neck and fingers perfectly emphasized the sparkle of her eyes and charming smile.

“Need some help, shortie?” The man stepped a little closer and glanced carefully at the petite woman.

When you turned around, he could have sworn you looked like a true goddess. You were just as beautiful – no – you were more beautiful than Aphrodite and definitely sweeter than the fruit in your hands. Your eyes expressed pure curiosity of the world, and your lips were twisted in a sincere, even childish smile. The necklace jumped slightly as you turned to your interlocutor, then greeted him with a slight bow.

“Only if you want... I’ll gladly accept your help.” You spoked timidly, causing the fair-haired sage only to nod. He quickly reached the beautiful plum from the branch and handed it to you. He was curious about you and really wondered who you were. After all, he had never met such a beautiful goddess before. Which religion were you from? “My name is Y/N Y/L/N. Nice to meet you.”

“Buddha.” He said softly, looking at you even more closely. Your voice as beautiful as the singing of nightingales in the morning, and the blush on your cheeks resembled juicy strawberries. “What pantheon are you from?” He asked curiously, and you only frowned, putting the fruit gently into a dark-colored wicker basket. Then you shook your head.

“Oh. I fight for humanity.” You replied with amusement, causing him mixed feelings. He was surprised; he did not expect that humanity has such beautiful women, and also so modest and delicate in her manner. “You may not know me because I died quite recently.” You added and the man nodded one more time. He wanted to know your story, your abilities, your problems. After all, everyone has one. “I’m seventh in line.”

Since Buddha was in the sixth round and you in the seventh, the deity hoped that you two would have a chance to meet again and talk for much longer; about life and death, about Ragnarok and about these sweet fruits... Like... Why did they catch your eye?

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justcallmecappy · 1 year

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Exploring the missed potential of Anders' character

Anders was an interesting character with a backstory and a set of characteristics that would have been amazing if explored further, but I believe his character's potential was tragically squandered by bad narrative choices and poor writing.

Here's a list of how I think his narrative potential hadn't been fully explored:

His name really isn't "Anders" -- it was a name given to him when he arrived at the circle at age 12 and was so traumatized he refused to speak, not even to say his name. BioWare has never revealed Anders' birth name. We also know that he has Anderfels heritage on his father's side, who migrated to Ferelden as a boy. It could have been revealed, through his birth name, that he has some connection to an Anderfels-related plotline: he could be related to the First Warden, or his family could have prominence or influence in the Grey Wardens of Weisshaupt.

Anders is a mage, a Grey Warden, and a host to a Spirit of Justice. This combination of spirit healing (already a rare branch of magic), Blight magic, and a connection to a Spirit of the Fade has never occurred before in known canon. Anders being connected to the mages, the Circle, the Grey Wardens, the darkspawn, and Fade Spirits means that there is a whole world of possibilities to explore with that combination, so many things you could do with his character.

Leveraging off Anders' connection with Justice, a potential key to finding the cure for the Calling could have involved possession by a Fade Spirit. (We already know Fade Spirits are essential to curing Tranquility -- perhaps there's more we could do with that.)

Anders could potentially be a companion to both the Hero of Ferelden and the Champion of Kirkwall, depending on your World State. If your HoF didn't die during the Archdemon battle and continued to Amaranthine, Anders (together with Justice) is the only NPC companion who has traveled with both the HoF and Hawke, and is also a potential love interest to Hawke. (Zevran and Isabela also are NPCs acquainted with both the HoF and Hawke, but only Anders has been a party companion for both.)

Anders could potentially be the only known Grey Warden to have met both the Architect and Corypheus.

Anders could have potentially have battled demons in the Fade three times: his Harrrowing, the Blackmarsh sequence in DA Awakening, and the "Night Terrors" Feynriel rescue mission in DA2. Considering these experiences, plus the fact he has his own in-built Spirit GPS in the form of Justice to help him navigate the Fade, Anders has the highest potential to be the one to rescue Hawke/Stroud/Loghain/Alistair from the Fade (if left there in DAI and has the potential to be rescued).

Anders may have political connections to the throne of Ferelden, if Alistair was made King, and was present at and endorsed Anders' conscription into the Wardens.

If your Warden was Mahariel, Anders would have a common connection with Merrill. If your Warden was Amell, Anders could have an extra connection to Hawke, having known their relative. A Warden Amell or Surana could also have an added layer of their relationship with Anders, having grown up in the same Circle together. (Anders just has a lot of connections to famous people and an extensive network that would have made everyone on LinkedIn jealous, is what I'm sayin 😆)

Anders being a prominent figure in the mage rebellion could also have been explored further -- especially in relations to Fiona, who was coincidentally another mage advocating for mage freedom and with a connection to the Grey Wardens and Alistair.

I just think it's tragic that Anders had so much potential -- arguably one of the characters with the most potential in the overall plot -- and yet BioWare squandered all that potential to push their brand of "grey morality".

The narrative and writing could have framed Anders as a heroic character -- it would have been so easy, the chances were right there -- which would have opened up the chance to explore the potential of his character further in subsequent works, but instead in DAI, BioWare doubled down on slandering his character to drive the point home that he was a villain, and closing off further exploration of his character post DA2.

#anders #anders dragon age #anders da2 #dragon age 2 #dragon age meta #da meta #bioware critical #jennifer hepler critical #mage rights #pro mage #anders positivity #anders is protagonist material #my meta #anders meta

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hrefna-the-raven · 6 months

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Web of faith

Masterlist - BG3 masterlist

Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - drow ending

Words: 2664

Notes: this story has have two different endings, depending on which Kar'niss you prefer, this is the one for the drider lovers ;)

In any case I think you all for tagging along on Kar'niss' journey during this series and I apologies already if it gets a bit hectic in this last chapter, I was too impatient and wanted to get that ending ready xD

Chapter 7 - Drider ending

The moon hung low in the sky, being visible for the first time in years as the shadowcurse slowly released its hold on the lands, as Halsin carefully explained the procedure of an ancient ritual he came across during his travels to Kar'niss. The drider listened intently, his heart pounding with a mixture of fear, hope and doubt. The proposal Halsin presented was both promising and daunting - a chance to finally break free from the curse placed upon him by Lolth.

The ritual would not be easy but demand pain, time and sacrifice. Kar'niss would be bound to the surface for the rest of his life, forsaking his freedom for the possibility of regaining his drow form. And the path to transformation required even more than that. He would need to pledge his allegiance to yet another god, more precisely the daughter of Lolth, Eilistraee. The drider flinched at the mention of her name, he knew she was the opposite of her mother and yet, the painful memories of his transformation still lingered dangerously in his broken mind. Different thoughts swirled chaotically in Kar'niss' mind as he weighed the risks and rewards. Would he be condemned to a life of servitude once more, his worship leading him down another treacherous path? Or could he finally find redemption, love and a place where he truly belonged, together with his beloved?

His eyes flickered with determination as he gazed at Halsin. The druid understood the turmoil within the drider, for he too had faced similar choices in his past that lead down a dangerously destructive path. He gave the drider a reassuring nod, tapping his shoulder as he walked away, giving Kar'niss all the time he needed to make his choice.

Your heart weighed heavy as you left Moonrise Towers, heading towards Baldur's Gate without Kar'niss. You weren't sure why he decided to stay behind and travel with Halsin but you trusted the druid enough to keep your beloved safe until you had rid Faerûn of the Absolute's hold. You were to meet both again at the grove and so, with your mind reaching out one last time to Kar'niss', vowing to return safely and proclaiming your undying love, you ventured forth, leaving the shadow-cursed lands and your beloved behind.

Kar'niss entered the forest alone, Halsin setting up camp at the outskirts as only the ones in need of help may enter this place. As he hesitantly ventured further into the forest, Kar'niss couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. His eyes frantically darted from one shadow to the other, his senses heightened with every step. The dense foliage closed in around him, making it difficult to navigate through the twisted maze of trees. Thorned hedges blocked his path, forcing him to squeeze through narrow gaps, while branches covered in leaves blocked out the sunlight, casting an eerie gloom over the forest. The air grew heavy and Kar'niss could feel a sense of ancient power lingering in the air. It was both exhilarating and terrifying. Doubts and fears flooded his mind but he pushed them aside, focusing on his goal to break the curse that had befallen him, he had to, for you, so he pressed on, his determination unwavering. He heard strange noises and whispers in the wind, as if something was guiding him deeper into the heart of the forest. And then, in the midst of the darkness, Kar'niss saw a flicker of light. It was unlike anything he had ever seen before. Intrigued, he quickened his pace, following the faint glow through the winding maze of trees.

As he emerged into a clearing, his eyes widened in awe. Before him stood a majestic drow in the middle of the pond, gracefully floating above the water surface. She was not just a myth or a lesser spirit, he instantly knew that she was the goddess with the power to grant him the healing he sought so desperately.

"Eilistraee", Kar'niss whispered as he bowed before her.

A soft breeze whispered through the clearing and as he glanced upward, she stood before him, her finger gently pressing against his lips to hush him. In that moment, he felt the warmth of her divine presence reaching out to him, touching the depths of his being. With a trembling hand, Kar'niss reached deep into his heart, pulling out the memories of you, the one and only person he truly cared for and for whom he had defied already two gods. He poured his love and hope into those memories, offering them up as proof of his commitment. And as the memories dissipated into the air, the goddess' eyes were filled with a glowing soft beauty and a gentle smile played upon her lips, her finger leaving his mouth and pointing towards the small pond. His legs moved on their own accord, carrying him to the water, stopping only when just his head remained above the surface. Despite feeling cold, the water radiated a warm energy that seeped into his very being, chasing away the darkness in his mind. In that moment, Kar'niss felt the weight of the curse lift from his soul, replaced by a renewed sense of clarity. His mind still felt fractured but the incessant ramblings of the voice in his head ceased and the overwhelming sea of shame that threatened to engulf him gradually subsided. His drider body felt different, it felt...normal...like it was just another body, now devoid of the sharp, agonizing pain caused by the curse.

Kar'niss took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a second, enjoying the calm and quiet, despite his body still being the one of a drider, and when he opened his eyes again, he found himself standing at Halsin's little makeshift camp.

"Welcome back", the druid smiled at him, "let's rest the night and head back to the grove at sunrise."

You didn't care about your triumph over the Absolute and you cared even less for the celebrations after as you swiftly packed your stuff and almost ran towards the city gates. Your steps halted when a hand gently rested on your shoulder and and the sound of a familiar chuckle, one that had warmed your heart throughout your journey, reached your ears.

"Eager to reunite with your beloved?", Gale asked, "You know, there's an exceptionally talented and, if I do say so myself, remarkably attractive wizard who could assist you in returning even faster. It's not wise to wander alone all the way."

You pulled Gale in a tight hug, tears welling up in the corners of your eyes as you chuckled. Amidst all the misery you had to endure, you felt truly blessed that fate had brought this wizard into your chaotic life. The kind friendship that formed between the two of you was more than precious and you truly hoped that this wouldn't be the last time you saw him.

"Promise me you'll come visit", you pleaded.

Gale nodded, mumbling an incantation and watched with teary eyes as you stepped through the portal.

Kar'niss let out a anxious sigh, his hands automatically reaching for the small vial that now dangled on a delicate silver chain around his neck. It was Eilistraee's parting gift to him before she sent him back to Halsin. As he touched the smooth glass, a sense of familiarity washed over him, accompanied by a faint sparkle of sky blue liquid under the warm glow of the setting sun. The words spoken by the goddess echoed in his mind, creating a comforting haze that eased him away from the lingering effects of Lolth's curse. As he stood at the small cliff next to the grove, he couldn't help but wonder how you would react upon your return, finding not a drider but the drow whom you had once loved. The smile forming on his lips quickly faded as apprehension replaced it, fearing the possibility that you might not come back at all. You were bound to fight the Absolute and her vile cult. What if you wouldn't survive this? What if you had survived and determined that, now that you were the saviour of Faerûn, you no longer needed a broken creature like him? It caused him pain, but could he really hold it against you for choosing someone else over him? Perhaps the wizard, judging by the way he looked at you, Kar'niss was almost certain he would attempt to steal you away from him. Maybe this could change if he'd finally become his old self again?

"Kar'niss", he heard your voice call out.

Fear engulfed his body as he dreaded the return of madness and voices. He hastily tore open the vial, his chest rising and falling rapidly as his trembling hands brought the small bottle to his lips. He couldn't allow this to happen again, he had to complete the ritual. He wouldn't be able to endure descending into pain and madness once more.

"Kar'niss, there you are!", you beamed as you sprinted towards the drider.

NOTE:

below is my drider ending for the story, if you prefer drows, you should click here and not read below ;)

He turned around in surprise, causing the vial to slip from his grasp and shatter into countless fragments on the ground. His seven eyes widened in shock as his body sank to the earth, desperately attempting to salvage the remaining liquid by frantically licking his fingers, hoping to obtain at least a few drops of the supposed healing potion.

"You came back?", he sobbed, "I'm sorry I messed up, I'm still a monster, I can never...I can never..."

"Silly Niss", you sighed, hugging him tightly, "of course I came back and I told you I don't care how you look now."

Stepping back slightly, you raised your hand, making sure he noticed the ring adorning your finger. His eyes welled up with emotion as his hand reached for yours, gently rotating the ring with his fingertips.

"I told you my answer is yes", you said softly, pressing a tender kiss to his lips, "and now that the Absolute is gone, I will remain by your side so that we can finally build a life together."

"But I'm a monster", he averted his gaze, his voice filled with doubt, "we can never venture elsewhere and I fear I cannot provide you with what you desire."

"Kar'niss, all I desire is you", your words were filled with a deep love and unwavering devotion as you cradled his head gently in your hands, "I never stopped loving you and I never will."

The touch of your skin against his was a sensation he had longed for, as your arms wrapped around him, pulling him close in a warm and tight embrace. Your face nestled against the side of his neck, leaving a trail of soft kisses in its wake. Kar'niss let out a contented sigh, savouring the newfound sensations that had awakened within him since he bathed in that enchanted pond. Even the slightest touch to his chitinous parts now sent waves of pure bliss coursing through his entire being.

A deep rumble emanated from his chest as your trail of kisses descended. Your hands found his pedipalps, gently caressing them and although it felt pleasant, the sensation was markedly different from before, less intense. However, something new stirred within him this time, something that hadn't been present during since he was turned into a drider. Awkwardly, he lifted himself up, feeling a long-forgotten tingling heat spreading through his lower regions. When he glanced down, he noticed a long hard skin coloured member nestled between two plates, just above the point where his drow and spider forms merged. Your eyes were already fixed on his newfound body part and before he could utter a word, your lips enveloped his firm length, sucking on it eagerly. Kar'niss let out an almost primal growl, his legs nearly giving way as waves of lust washed over him. This sensation surpassed anything he had ever experienced before, surpassing even the pleasures he enjoyed with you, whether as a drow or as a drider. Your gaze shifted up to his face, observing how your beloved unravelled under your touch. Your tongue swirled around the tip and you hummed in satisfaction as you witnessed his mouth hanging open, eyes closed, hips instinctively thrusting to feel more of you. It didn't take much time for him to be overwhelmed by pleasure, pushing him to the brink and soon your mouth was filled with his warm seed, a sickly sweet flavour tingling your taste buds.

Kar'niss', now clawless, fingers curled around your neck, his other hand supporting your lower back as he gently laid you down on the ground and swiftly removed your clothes.

"Niss please", you moaned, a gentle breeze brushing against your skin, causing shivers to run down your spine. A blush spread across your cheeks as you drew him closer, your lips colliding in a passionate kiss. He pulled away, slightly panting, his tongue gliding over his lips, his eyes greedily fixed on your delicate naked figure. It almost felt like your first time together after your reunion at Moonrise Towers, nervousness cursing through you, just as much as the anticipation of having him without all that broken madness. Your eyes closed in delight as soon as you felt two fingers teasingly graze your entrance, while his tender lips pressed against your sensitive nub.

"I remember your taste, my tiny goddess of flesh", he mumbled against your wetness before delicately sucking and licking your clit.

Your hips instinctively bucked, the sinful sounds of your moans blending with the rhythmic crashing of the waves below as Kar'niss' tongue skilfully danced between your wet folds, his fingers pumping into you at a lazy pace. The sensation was softer, his slender digits caressing you with tender care, curling slightly to find the right spot while his tongue pleasured you in the most intoxicating ways. Kar'niss' heart overflowed with warmth; he would never be a drow again, yet here you both were, completely vulnerable and consumed by each other. You fell apart for him, still loving him unconditionally. It was never about his appearance for you; what truly mattered was that every trace of Lolth's curse had vanished from his mind. This allowed him to once again experience the warmth of your touch with his own body and soul, an unbreakable connection. Your climax approached rapidly, however you didn't want to cum just yet, not like this, you needed all of him inside you, so you grasped his head and guided him to move up.

Kar'niss immediately understood your desire and lifted you effortlessly, drawing you closer as he stood tall. His hands secured your position as his hard cock glided into you and you both moaned in pleasure. He thrust into you at a merciless, chasing both of you towards the edge as neither of you had the patience to go slow. In that moment, time seemed to rewind, transporting you back to that small sanctuary in the Underdark, bodies and souls dancing in perfect harmony through the planes of your desires as the pleasure of your sweet release embraced both of you simultaneously. Kar'niss almost melodically uttered your name before gently lowering you to the ground, his breath heavy and erratic. Your hand instinctively sought out his head, tenderly running your fingers through his white hair, silently inviting him to recline beside you. The drider curled up, enfolding his arms around your waist, pulling you tightly against his body. It almost looked strange as his towering spider-like form laid on its side, eight legs encasing yours, while his upper drow body clung affectionately to you, his head serenely resting upon yours.

"What's on your mind, my beloved?", you whispered softly.

"We are finally here together. I'm...I'm worthy and we'll have our future."

The grin that tugged at the edges of your mouth was irresistible and Kar'niss couldn't contain their own joy either. Your arduous journey, though it began with sorrow, had reached its end....a rather happy end....

Tags:

@orionspaperwork

@mxxny-lupin

@traumaramacenter

@dark-and-kawaii

#baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 x reader #bg3 x you #kar'niss #karniss #bg3 kar'niss #drider #drider x reader #drider x you #kar'niss x reader #kar'niss x you #halsin #bg3 halsin #drow reader #drow kar'niss #happy ending

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mean-scarlet-deceiver · 3 months

Text

😘

For Valentine's Day, here are shipping... not headcanons so much as scenes that I would like to put into fic form but, let's be for real, I'll only ever get around to writing 1 out of 6 of these. So instead let me just tell you how the scenes go!

(Note: They are all silly but they are not all fluffy.)

Henry x Bear:

Henry bringing Bear to his forest (which is actually a spur off the Peel Godred branch line) for the first time circa 1971-ish and being kind of gruffly shy about this because This Is His Heart and he's trying to sound soooo offhand as he mentions that he just likes to visit here sometimes… get away from it all… for the past fifty years cough… and Bear just looking around and having a heart attack at how some roots are literally driving up the track ahead of them and measuring the four inches between them and the foliage and being like HENRY. HENRY I’M SORRY BUT. HOW. HOW IS THIS LEGAL. HOW HAVE YOU NOT CAUSED A FIRE HERE

I guess this one doesn't end on a very romantic note but it does make me laugh.

Edward x BoCo:

This one is even more messed-up but it also makes me laugh. I tend to imagine occasionally even work on a way-too-complicated WIP of Edward and BoCo getting to know each other during the three years before “The Diseasel” and also things on the mainland are, like. Bad. Really, really bad. BoCo is way too busy chronically dealing with stress levels set to 9 out of 10 to in any way acknowledge his growing romantic feelings about Edward…

… until one day when he’s been working further inland for a few days and as he starts returning ‘home’ he hears word that Edward was left in Barrow shed for a day and somehow spent the day out and about on B.R. jobs and BoCo RUSHES back - albeit a quiet, understated sort of way - all but teleports! - he NEEDS to find out RIGHT AWAY if his oh-so-innocent-cinnamon-roll is even still ALIVE :( let alone finding out how bullied he’s been :( only at the end of three hours in a sort of moving heart attack to find Edward at Barrow shed apparently now pals with everyone and swapping tales of Furness past and present with all the worst characters imaginable eating out of his palm and being like oh hello! yes i did get out and about it’s been lovely :) and BoCo trying not to shout in front of everyone I THOUGHT THERE WAS A REAL CHANCE YOU WERE DEAD OR KIDNAPPED AND SENT HALFWAY ACROSS THE COUNTRY BY NOW I CAME PREPARED TO COMMIT MURDER and Edward with an unbroken smile being casually like Oh yes :) Five different diesels tried :) No dw you can see I’m fine haha :) Incidentally at least a few of your brothers would sell you to the Gronk mafia for a corn chip :) yes the ones I’m sharing a chummy laugh with rn :) I had no idea things here were so bad I am putting you under protective custody on Sodor immediately :)

Mavis x Daisy:

Mavis has been down coz things have been so dull.

Daisy comes to her beloved's rescue!

... by throwing the world’s fakest mechanical breakdown at Ffarquhar and being like ‘oh DEAR i am ILL I am FALLING APART i NEED my dearest Mavis to HELP ME WITH THIS ONE MILK TANKER or else my SWERVES will IMPLODE’ and literally every human on scene doing a facepalm.

Mavis has a grand time although - when they manage to swing this journey all the way to Tidmouth Harbour - Mavis shows how much more forward she is about striking up conversations whereas Daisy is actually quite socially anxious (much as she tries to hide it) and winds up getting jealous at Mavis talking to everyone but her.

And then (finally noticing Daisy in a tizzy) Mavis rolls her eyes and kisses her at the same time.

Most everyone whoops and shouts some good-natured razzing. Cranky, however, is all like ‘OY A LITTLE LESS OF THAT IN MY DOCK’

Thomas x Bertie:

Maybe this one is a straight-up headcanon, I dunno. And I think this ship is a QPR. But anyway I like to imagine Bertie swinging all the way out to York to visit Thomas during his stint at the NRM.

It’s a super lovely surprise.

Up to and including Bertie responding to “But how?????” with the world’s smarmiest: “Well, I’m allowed to travel on mainland roads, aren’t I? Roads 1,459 Rails 0 :D”

James x Porter:

This is me, the captain of an empty ship, I know. (It's fun!)

Porter has been screwing with James’s head for fifteen years now by doing Grand Romantic Gestures but with Pokerfaced Watertight Plausible Deniability.

Like if there’s ever a cargo of flowers to go out, he always makes sure James gets it.

He always just so happens to be on James’s track when there are fireworks.

Forever making remarks like “Oh yeah, you go on first, you need your beauty routine” to let James go on and get wash down ahead of him and then bouncing so that James spends the entire time fruitlessly parsing the tone. It’s not biting or mean. It’s not flirtatious or teasing. But it's definitely not quite matter-of-fact. What does he MEAN by it???

No one knows. (Not that James cares!!!!!!!!) Porter, who has intimacy issues, is having way more fun living in James’s head rent-free than he ever would actually making a move on the most difficult and dramatic love interest on the railway (James: Everybody’s Ex™)

… at some point this will get resolved only when James snaps and drags him along on one of his fast freights out of the harbour. For once Porter is flustered (“Whoa! Whoa! James, put me down! I don’t go this fast - ”) and James just laughs, suddenly exhilarated because now he’s finally hauling Porter off and at the end is gonna force him to address all this shit (“C’mon, you’ve played Thomas before, haven’t you? Let’s moooooove -!”)

#cranky lives at tidmouth harbour truther right here #ttte shipping #... i still have no idea how to tag this it's not fic snippets exactly but it's not hcs either?#whatever fine #ttte headcanon #ttte #ttte multiple characters

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aprocessionofthoughts · 7 months

Text

Slightly Less Partial Explanations

Ectoberhaunt’s 2023 day 16- revenant TW- none summary- Danny tries to explain

ao3 ectoberhaunt23 masterlist part 4 of DLM

“I’m guessing that you died, but then came back somehow.”

Jason wanted to deny it, but something stopped him.

The same thing happened to me.

It wasn’t possible. He had gone through a very specific set of experiences. They didn’t even know what brought him back originally!

But maybe… Maybe this kid knew.

“What do you mean?”

The kid gave him what looked like a sad smile. “When I was fourteen, I was in an accident. It killed me, but at the same time I was brought back to life. Now, I don’t know exactly what happened to you, but I can tell that you’ve also died and come back.”

“I’m alive though.” He had to be.

“Mostly. You’re more alive than me at least. I’m half dead, and you’re more like one-fourth dead. If I had to guess, I’d say you’re a revenant– a spirit who came back to its body. Not that the GIW will care.”

“That’s the second time you’ve mentioned them. Who exactly are they? You said they’re part of the government, but I’ve never heard about them before.”

“That’s because they’re a secret branch of the government.”

Jason raised an eyebrow.

Danny rolled his eyes. “They were formed to hunt down, experiment on, and exterminate all ectoplasmic beings. Like ghosts.”

“But how does that not go against the Meta Protection Act?”

Danny shrugged. “The government classifies any being that produces or needs ectoplasm to survive as non sentient and non sapient. They also say we can’t feel pain, which is a load of bull, but whatever.”

“That doesn't even make any sense.”

Danny shrugged, sipping at his hot chocolate. “It is what it is. Now I’ve got to head out. I’ve been here long enough. You’ve been really helpful and I wouldn’t want to bring trouble to your doorstep.”

Danny started to get up.

“Wait! What if… What if I told you that I know someone who can help?”

“Help with what?”

“Help protect you from the GIW and take them down too.”

Danny looked skeptical. “And who would do that?”

Jason hesitated. “I have connections to the Justice League.”

Jason hadn’t exactly known what reaction to expect, maybe surprise or disbelief, but definitely not the sneer Danny gave him.

“Those sanctimonious pricks won’t lift a finger to help.”

And wow, Jason never thought he’d be defending the Justice League but… “I know they have their issues, but they can help you.”

“They didn’t before, so why would they now?”

“What do you mean?”

Danny sighed, but sat back down. “When my town first got invaded by ghosts–”

“What!”

“We tried calling the JL. Several times! But they never answered. Even as the town was getting destroyed, even when we got pulled into the feakin’ Ghost Zone, they never responded.”

Jason frowned. “Look, I’m usually not one to defend the JL, but that doesn’t really seem like them. But all I want to say is that regardless of what they’ve done or not done, I know one of the members who for sure would help you out.” And he’d probably adopt you too, Jason thought, looking at this kid who was prime adoption bait.

“And who would that be?”

Jason was about to respond when Danny stiffened, his head tilted to the side.

“They’re here.” Danny turned to him. “I’ll try to lead them away, but I recommend laying low for a while. You’ve got something weird going on and your ectoplasm hasn’t yet fully integrated. I’d hate it if the GIW caught you before you really had a chance to live again.” Danny smiled sadly. “Hope to see you again, Jason. Take care of yourself.”

“Kid, wait–” Jason started, but suddenly he was alone in his kitchen. The only sign that anyone had been there, a dirty mug on the table and some bloody bandages in the trash can.

#ectoberhaunt #ectoberhaunt23 #eh science #revenant #Jason todd #Danny fenton #Jason Todd is partially dead #giw #dpxdc #dp x dc #dp x dc au #dp x dc fanfic #fanfic

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olderthannetfic · 5 months

Note

ONTF, you're older than I am, you're highly media literate, maybe you'll know: what was the appeal of the Joss Whedon style of writing to begin with? Everyone whateverishly wording their phrasey bits in that very Whedon-y way never did anything for me, positive or negative, and the constant need to have comedy during serious moments or interrupt a serious moment with either snark or a remark that nods towards tropes diffuses the tension to the point where I can't get invested. None of his characters ever felt capable of having sincere moments like most characters in other things I watch, and the few moments of that they did have would get undermined by one of the aforementioned flaws.

I do think the "omg worst writer EVER!" crowd is a bit much, because I've seen things so bad that Whedon looks like Shakespeare by comparison. But my half-sister, who is 25 years older than me and thus in her late 40's, swears Joss' style is revolutionary and deep. And frankly I've been wrong about a lot of media I used to hate and I'm open to the idea I'm missing something. It's super likely given my limited media exposure, though I am admittedly trying to work on that and branch out into more genres of media and more formats so I don't become that 'guy who has only seen Boss Baby thinks every movie has Boss Baby vibes' meme.

So. What am I missing? What's the context I'm missing and the key here that will allow me to appreciate the appeal of and enduring fandom for Whedon's work? I am admittedly a fandom baby but I am willing to learn.

I mean... I despised him from the get go, other than the Buffy movie, which I still quote that death scene from regularly, so I'm probably not the best person to describe what's appealing about his style.

But one-liners during action are a common taste even if I'm fonder of the sorts of homoerotic 80s trash Ruthless Reviews used to cover.

Ironic distance is also popular and easier to swallow than earnestness for a lot of people.

However, I do think Buffy's original audience was connecting with it emotionally. Look at the part where Buffy's all upset after the most clownishly 1980s take on loss of virginity and heavyhanded metaphors for guys being jerks that just made every writer involved seem excessively middle-aged and out of touch Giles asks if she has any idea what could have happened to Angel. For people who weren't going to high school in 90s California, that bilge was apparently very moving. Certainly, there are parts of Buffy where the quips die down for some actual emotional moments.

People like style. Something that commits to being aggressively stylized will often stand out from the bland clones that surround it. Look at Wes Anderson (another creator I don't particularly like). Whedon's godawful faux-witty dialogue did sound different from other things on TV at the time. He also lets women say some of the one-liners, which is sorely missing from most media.

But mostly, he was formative for a lot of people, and I had to live through many, many years of them earnestly entreating me to give his shitty writing another chance because this time I would somehow connect with this sex-negative parasite and his casting aesthetic that I didn't find hot or interesting.

(I like dumb and campy things. I just like them to star a bunch of body builders from New Zealand, not waifs.)

People always hold up the things they imprinted on as more revolutionary and deep than they seem in retrospect. In Whedon's case, his already obnoxious style suffers from having been copied so much since, but even if he weren't famous or popular, if you were talking to that one person whose adolescence was defined by their love of him, they'd say all this same nonsense your sister does.

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zuzu-the-villain · 1 year

Text

─ HEART TO HEART | KYŌJURŌ RENGOKU

❛❛ 𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝. ❜❜

𓆩♡𓆪 FORMAT: one-shot | fluff

𓆩♡𓆪 SUMMARY: Two Hashiras take a break in a peaceful forest while on their way back to Butterfly Estate after a grueling mission. As they await the sunrise, they engage in a "heart-to-heart" conversation, sharing their fears, guilt, and upcoming challenges that await them. The past hasn't been kind to them, but they find solace in opening up to each other.

It had been a long day on the mission, and night had fallen as you both made your way through the path. The sky was awash with the warm hues of twilight, the last vestiges of sunlight casting long shadows across.

"We still have a few hours of walking ahead of us. Are you sure you don't want to take a break?" Kyojuro asked, his concern for you evident in his booming voice.

The shadows grew deeper, and the trees seemed to tower over, your branches reaching up towards the stars.

"If we stop now, we'll need more than just a few hours to make up for lost time," You looked back at him with those same rolling eyes which he couldn't help but recall with a grin. The first day you joined them, eager to embrace a new life in a new place with all that attitude of yours. Those rolling eyes.

As you trudged through the muddy road, he caught sight of a towering tree off the beaten path and without warning, you were pulled by your hand in another direction.

"Worry not, we're just taking a break," he announced, sensing the weariness in your body. You protested weakly, but he wasn't having any of it. Your feet were aching and those eyelids of yours were incredibly heavy. Kyojuro, on the other hand, seemed to be unaffected by the long day of travel.

"You look absolutely exhausted, my friend. I don’t want you falling asleep on the way back home," Kyojuro said, his flammable eyes glinting as if in the form of stars. "Besides, I don't want to give the others a chance to tease you about me carrying you all the way!" he added with a chuckle.

"But what about the demons?"

His fiery spirit blazed like the flames he wielded. He raised one of his fists to his chest proudly, his face alight with intense passion.

"I'll take care of them! Just relax and snooze the sweetest of dreams by the fire. Leave the rest to me, friend!"

He patted your shoulder gently before turning his attention to the darkness beyond the fire, ready to face whatever demons might come their way.

You hesitated slightly, just coudn't shake off the feeling of guilt that washed over as you watched him tirelessly do all the work without your help. Despite his insistence, you wanted to be as useful as in any way you could, but only for him to refuse such kind offer.

But after all, your exhaustion won out.

„Thank you, Sir Rengoku.“

„Kyojuro, call me Kyojuro.“

He went about building the fire, skillfully arranging the wood and kindling until the flames roared to life. As he worked, he noticed the chill in the air and knew that you must be feeling it too.

"Hm. Take my haori," He smiled at his good work with the fire now burning much hotter than his flaming hair, offering you the oversized garment.

“Oh, thanks.“

"It's even bigger than you! Even more than enough to wrap around you like a blanket, though!" As he draped the haori over your shoulders, he couldn't help but laugh at the sight of you nearly disappearing beneath the voluminous fabric. The sound of your laughter joined his, and for a moment, the two of you were lost in the joy.

As the night settled in, the forest came alive with the sounds of nocturnal creatures. The hooting of an owl echoed through the trees, bowing their wings in the moonlight. The stars twinkled in the sky, and the gentle breeze carried the sweet scent of wildflowers. It was a peaceful and serene moment, a moment that you wished would last forever.

And when the stillness of the forest enveloped you, a familiar voice broke the silence after quite some time. "You're still awake, any disturbance?" The Flame Hashira whispered softly, his presence a comforting one.

"I can't sleep."

"That's alright," without hesitation, he settled down next to you, his reassuring energy grounding you whilst offering you a warm smile.

"Do you want to talk instead?" The invitation hung in the air between you two, and you couldn't help but feel grateful for his kindness. With him by your side, you knew that even the darkest of nights would be easier to bear.

„I'm just..Sir Rengoku, I am truly sorry for making you do all this work for nothing, I—I really tried to rest and all, but we could have just continued walking instead—“

„I didn't to this good work for nothing, I'd say.“ He reassured you, his voice kind and understanding as always, yet never quiet. „Even if you're not asleep, your body and soul still need rest. If we had continued walking instead of stopping here, I guarantee you I would have actually carried you all the way, one way or another!“

His laughter rang out, the sound filling the peaceful surroundings.

„So, worry not!“

For a fleeting moment, the silence between you and the Flame Hashira was palpable, heavy with unspoken thoughts and emotions. Your eyes met and your fingers fidgeted nervously, punctuating the stillness with small gestures. In that instant, the already-quiet night seemed to grow even more hushed, as if the world itself were holding its breath.

„Well?“

„Well what?“

"Since you're already in no shape to sleep, will a little heart-to-heart do the trick?" he clarified, a faint smile playing on his lips.

"Heart-to-heart?“ you repeated, a hint of amusement in your voice. "Is that what you call a late-night talk?" You couldn't help but grin at the playful term, feeling a sense of warmth and comfort settle over you as you settled into the easy rhythm of your banter.

Together, you whiled away the hours, sharing stories and jokes and just being yourselves. But when the conversation turned to the topic of family, you grew quiet.

And Kyojuro noticed that.

“Hey there now,” he said, placing a warm hand on your shoulder.

"I know it's tough. I've been there myself, when I lost my mother. We had so many plans together, so many words of encouragement left unsaid. She was an incredible woman, with the most beautiful smile I've ever seen."

"I'm really sorry about that.. I, I believe she was really a wonderful woman."

He nodded. "There is no such need to be sorry, I'm very glad that woman was someone I could call mother on my own. She taught me something important before she took her last breath - she taught me to never give up. To always keep fighting, no matter what. And that's what I try to do every day . To protect the weaker ones, ones for whom my heart beats the most."

"A truly wonderful woman, raising you so well..I can't help but admire you, Sir.”

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, watching the fire crackle until there was something else to be told.

"You know," he began, "I have a younger brother, too. His name is Senjuro, he's the bravest guy I know— just don't tell him I just made that up!"

You looked at him curiously with a smile on your face. "I'll be able to meet him? Really?!"

"I don't see why not, my friend! Apart from being so quick to fear anything, his heart burns hotter than any horror in his path. He is a talented swordsman, my little hero as I like to call him."

You could hear the pride in Kyojuro’s voice, not knowing whether to ask the next question or not. "And your father?"

In the blink of an eye, you noticed how all that pride settled down, watching his face also change its happy position of the lips from a smile to something a little more serious, darker.

"Oh? My father..My father, I suppose, was never a father figure to us. He always did his own thing and didn't seem to care about us. Senjuro and I were the only family we had, but no matter what kind of father he is, I hope he finds peace. Losing a loved one can be devastating, and I understand his anger. It's not just anger itself, it's the pain of grief and the struggle to cope with loss.”

"Right, I believe he experienced a lot, even what he neither needed nor wanted. I'm sorry if this is all too much for you..I shouldn't have dragged it into the topic." you whisper, but his smile only warms your heart even more, and you feel a sense of relief.

"I appreciate your attentiveness, but you don't need to apologize so much. It's truly refreshing to talk to someone who listens so well." he replies, fixing you a little better with the haori you were wrapped in like a granny.

"Remember that no matter what you're going through, you're not alone. We're all in this together!"

His words resonate deeply within you, and you feel a renewed sense of hope and strength. With a small smile, you settle back into your spot by the fire, feeling comforted and at peace.

You were overwhelmed with gratitude and struggled to find a way to express it adequately. Though you had thanked him verbally countless times, you knew those words didn't truly capture the depth of your appreciation, so you reached out your hands and embraced him tighly, feeling the warmth of your shared bond radiating in between the two of you.

„Thank you, Sir Rengoku, I really mean it.“

„Kyojuro!“

„Kyojuro, right, right! No need to be so scary!“ You cackled at his boisterousness.

It was a warmth that surpassed even the cozy embrace of that haori of his and the flickering flame of the campfire. This hug was the truest expression of your gratitude, to which he chuckled at heart.

„Although your parents may not fully support your dreams at the moment, it's important to persevere and not give up easily. Keep working hard towards your goals, and someday you'll achieve the victory you're seeking!"

You didn't even have a chance to glance at the time before your eyelids fluttered shut, the darkness engulfing you like a soft blanket. For what felt like hours, you slept soundly, lulled by the distant calls of nocturnal creatures like night owls who praised the moonlight over the world once again.

When you finally stirred, the first rays of dawn caressed your face, welcoming you back to the world of the living. You felt as though you were cradled in the arms of a loving parent, far softer than the rough bark of the tree you had leaned on before drifting off. As your eyes opened, you were momentarily disoriented, wondering where the fire and the tree had gone. Instead, you saw an endless blue sky stretching out above you, and a road stretching out ahead like an invitation.

"Good morning!“ Rengoku's booming voice broke through the peace once again, his strong arms carrying you effortlessly towards the entrance in a flash. The Butterfly Estate.

As you emerged into the light, you were greeted by the warm smiles of your companions, including Tanjiro and his playful friends. They welcomed you with open arms, thrilled to see you up and about once more. You couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over you, knowing that you were safe in their care.

However, as you stepped into the main hall, you were immediately greeted by a chorus of playful teasing, which were not to your liking.

"Ooh, looks like Kyojuro has found himself a new lady friend!," Kanzaki giggled, her eyes sparkling mischievously.

"I see you've taken to carrying your companions around like princesses, Kyojuro," Kocho remarked dryly, though you could detect a hint of amusement in her voice.

The Flame Hashira merely chuckled, having those sparkling eyes wide open. "Our fellow Hashira was exhausted after the battle, and I didn't want to risk injuring her further by making her walk," he explained, his arm still wrapped protectively around your waist.

“So, Kocho, could you please double-check her just to be safe? Though I am confident that everything is intact. I made sure to pay attention to all aspects of the situation.”

The others exchanged knowing looks, their teasing continuing in good-natured ribbing. Despite the initial embarrassment, you found yourself laughing along with them, feeling grateful for the camaraderie and lightheartedness in the midst of such grave circumstances.

You reached out and gently touched his hand, feeling a surge of admiration for the Hashira who had taken you under his wing, your mind buzzing with possibilities, knowing that your journey as a Demon Slayer was only just the beginning.

𓆩♡𓆪

#kyojuro rengoku #rengoku x reader #demonslayer #comfort #kyojuro rengoku x reader #rengoku x f!reader #𓆩♡𓆪heart to heart

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solarianvoidthearoace · 9 months

Text

Speculating a bit…

Yuukoku no Moriarty

I think, just a thesis, that it was between that case on the train and Irene Adler that William decided he wants Sherlock to be part – key figure – of his plan

Because prior to that, the case in which he tests Sherlock, he was offering Sherlock Holmes an in

What William offered him, information on who the great criminal is, was an invitation. If Sherlock Holmes had shot that man, like William set it up, then there were only two possible outcomes

Sherlock Holmes would join the Moriarty family – the Moriarty Pact

The Moriartys would need to “liquidate” Sherlock Holmes

It wasn’t just a test of Sherlock Holmes’ character, in the very same breath, it was an open invitation.

So, I think, prior to the murder on the train, William wagered with the idea of Sherlock Holmes joining their cause

He was still scrutinising Sherlock, still gauging who he is as a man, during that train case

There had to be one distinct point at which William decided how to proceed about Sherlock Holmes. The more likely one being the case around Adler, although it is possible that first ideas formed and solidified around their interaction on the train.

EDIT: in the manga canon it’s clear William already had his sights on Sherlock for his later role when he tested him with “A Study in ‘SH’”. This obviously influences what I said but I still think his repeated offerings towards Sherlock can be seen as William wanting him in the plan either way. Either as his chosen nemesis, his curated antagonist, or as part of the Moriarty Pact, in an active role Sherlock would be made aware of.

Because previously, with that chance of gaining Moriarty’s name. That offer of Sherlock committing one murder in exchange for such a valuable information, that would only leave Sherlock to join the Moriarty Pact or die.

But once the Irene Adler case happened, those documents affirmed the Moriarty Plan. Those documents solidified what the Moriartys had planned and it gave them a lead.

A red thread, if you will.

After the Irene Adler case, that was the point when William also locked Sherlock’s role into place. When he decided their whole plan would hinge on Sherlock Holmes.

Once their plan locked into place – because it was already set it motion and only gained a more determined shape through those documents – William had to have decided that he wanted Sherlock Holmes on the other side of it.

I assume William’s decision started to form earlier, someplace between that case on the train and Adler’s case.

EDIT: obviously between “A study in ‘SH’” and Adler’s case, considering where the manga draws attention to William having locked his sights on Sherlock

But then again there is the fact that even then, even as the case around Irene Adler set things into motion, William took a wager.

Moriarty’s name. The master criminal’s name. The true name of the Napoleon of Crime.

Quite literally handing that to Sherlock Holmes, full-well knowing Irene Adler would die… I think that was a final test.

William took a bargain, the chance of Sherlock opening that letter when he heard of Adler’s death was not zero. It wasn’t likely, for Sherlock to snap and open the letter, but there was no insurance. The chance never was zero

I think that was the final olive branch. Like how they showed Adler what James Moriarty is capable of, that letter was a final invitation extended to Sherlock Holmes.

Holmes refusing, burning that letter, it was what sealed the plan.

Sherlock Holmes himself sealed himself into that role William Moriarty wrote for him. That role William tailor-made for Sherlock Holmes, and Sherlock Holmes alone, to fulfil.

Obviously, later on, Sherlock defied expectations any way. And thoroughly so. But without knowing it, he made himself one of the key components of the Moriarty Plan.

And this is entirely besides the point of how formidably they played Mycroft Holmes – twice!

Because Mycroft– That case which enabled the MI6 to be founded, that kidnapping of William, Mycroft must have seen through the scheme.

At least the aftermath, the bigger picture of Moriarty orchestrating that kidnapping must be obvious to Mycroft.

Of course, to him it is Albert who pulled the strings. Towards Mycroft, it is Albert who orchestrated that Albert’s troop would be in London, that his brother William would be kidnapped, and that William would be taken to the lair of the opium smugglers.

That plan – because Mycroft Holmes must have seen through it for what it was – proved to Mycroft what Moriarty is capable of.

It doesn’t matter that, towards Mycroft, Albert was the mastermind. What mattered is that Albert showed him “this is what I can do with my resources I have now” and essentially left Mycroft no other choice but to hand the MI6 to Albert Moriarty.

William’s whole kidnapping, the entire set-up of it, was to show that Albert Moriarty knows how to use resources he has. That he knows how to orchestrate things.

That James Moriarty is fully capable of seeing through things others wouldn’t dream of attempting.

Of course, that is probably also where they earned Mycroft’s distrust because in proving how powerful, how organised, how capable the Moriartys are, they made him cautious about them.

They have been playing psychological games with Mycroft Holmes from the beginning. From the moment Albert got wind of the MI6 possibly being formed.

And while Mycroft was left with doubts about Albert’s loyalty, there were no doubts whatsoever about his capability.

The further you get into the story, the more it all falls into place, really.

#yuumori #yuukoku no moriarty #william james moriarty #moriarty the patriot #albert james moriarty #ynm sherlock holmes #ynm sherlock #mtp sherlock #mtp Sherlock Holmes #ynm mycroft #ynm william #ynm albert #speculative analysis #fandom speculation #fandom rambles

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deathbypixelz · 2 months

Text

No Sister Left Behind (4.3k)

New one shot :) This one details Tarinne's escape from the Alliance outpost in which she'd be imprisoned and interrogated during the Third War. It's from the perspective of one of the Sentinels attacking the outpost during the recovery mission.

If you haven't already, read this post I made on my WoW/OC sideblog, as it explains a headcanon/AU thing that's central to this one shot.

AO3 link in case anyone (with an account) would prefer to read it on there.

-----

It’s been only months since the humans and orcs landed on Kalimdor’s shores, with the Legion and Scourge not far behind. The Sentinels are spread thin and losing ground in Ashenvale. Every victory against old enemies is matched by a loss to new ones. But unlike the Legion, the humans take prisoners. Now, two weeks after a midnight ambush on a human encampment went catastrophically wrong, it’s time to free one.

-----

World of Warcraft | Original characters

Be warned for: graphic violence, some elements of horror, and torture (not shown directly)

Under the light of two crescent moons, the forests of central Ashenvale were silent as a songbird watching a circling hawk. The star-soaked sky was cloudless. The wind held its breath. The trees stood still as stone, not risking even a whisper in their creaking voices. They only stood and watched the hawk's nest in silence.

It was an ugly thing – a stockade of stripped timber encircling a cluster of square buildings. All were squat and perfectly square, save for the watchtowers -- one east, one west -- which loomed over the torchlit outpost as if to mock the trees around them. A single, wide gate to the north was the only entrance and exit. At present it was closed. Deep ruts scarred the earth with a path winding north into the forest, marking where wagons and armored machines of war had crawled to and from this outpost in the preceding weeks.

The orcs and humans had made landfall only a season before. This compound was less than two months old. But the destruction around it would've easily fooled anyone.

The outpost sat at the center of a circular clearing, the dusty earth dotted with tree stumps and pockmarked with pits left by explosive charges. If one looked closer, they would see the broken arrow shafts still in the ground. The splintered wood that was the only remains of a glaive thrower.

And to the south, a shallow pit filled with dark, unmoving forms: at least a dozen bodies still wearing the leather and fur that had failed to save them.

With some effort, Sentinel Runa Stillblade dragged her eyes from the pit and stuck them firmly to the outpost. She blew a measured breath into the balmy air. She shifted her weight, the thick oak branch beneath her holding strong.

From here, she could see over the stockade and most of the western side of the compound. The buildings along that side of the stockade had dimly lit windows. No movement inside. The alleys between them were empty. Near the gate: huge, eagle-headed, armored machines. The siege engines that had doomed the attack two weeks before. But it was not them that concerned her; her eyes were on the watchtowers and the shadowy figures inside.

Her foot started to tingle and she shifted her weight again, forcing herself to relax her grip on her bow.

‘Don't overcomplicate this’, her superior had said just hours before. ‘Getting her out is your first priority.’

Runa ran her free hand along her belt, verifying for the umpteenth time her dagger and horn were still there.

‘You said you wanted a chance to make things right after falore An’ethella couldn't be recovered. I'm giving you that chance.’

Movement in the air above the outpost shook Runa from her thoughts. The hand on her bow clenched again before she recognized the shape of a short-eared owl.

The owl circled above the buildings on the western side. Twice it pitched down towards something near the largest one before rising again. Then it dove and disappeared behind the stockade. A few seconds later it reappeared, climbing higher and higher with deep, silent wingbeats. Once it rose above the light of the torches and was only a shadow against the stars, it turned and glided south. Runa watched it until it disappeared into the trees.

She counted to ten in her head, then let her form solidify from the shadows of the oak's boughs. She kept her eyes on the branch beneath her to hide their shine.

A second weight alighted on the branch, and Runa looked up into the owl's golden eyes. Surrounded by black feathers on a round, near-white face, they almost appeared to glow.

Runa smiled softly and held out her left arm. Kim'shalla, her companion of nearly a decade, climbed onto her forearm, its claws scratching the thick leather of her bracer. It looked down at her bracer as it shuffled its feet to find a comfortable grip.

She waited for Kim'shalla to settle, then she clicked her tongue. Paused. Then clicked it twice more.

Kim'shalla's head turned to face her. It blinked a slow blink, looked back at the outpost for a beat, then down at its feet as it adjusted its grip again. But this time, it moved its talons with purpose.

A-L-I-V-E, the short taps and longer holds spelled out letter by letter. Q-U-I-E-T. A-L-O-N-E.

Kim'shalla repeated this message once, then settled down again and puffed out its feathers, its task complete. It looked at Runa expectantly.

She nodded in thanks... and relief. She reached around and took a small piece of rodent meat from a pouch on her belt.

Kim'shalla pecked it from her palm.

Runa waited for it to swallow its treat, then clenched her left hand into a fist. With a disgruntled clack of its beak, Kim'shalla left her arm and glided a few trees down.

The beat of its wings blew a strand of curly black hair into Runa’s face. She brushed it away and began shuffling backwards along the branch, her split-sole boots giving her a sure grip. Her form faded back into the dark air. When she reached the trunk, she rapped her knuckles thrice on the lichen-spotted wood.

Prepare to move.

She held her breath and perked an ear to wait for the response.

From a branch above her, two taps: Understood.

She responded with three taps in a different rhythm — wait for my signal — and again the scout above responded with two.

In one smooth motion, she plucked an arrow from her quiver and rested it against the bowstring. Her gaze once again on the eastern watchtower, she waited.

And waited.

For nearly two hours.

~~~~~

It was not until the moons reached their apex that the watchman abruptly stood from his chair.

Runa tensed.

A second guard’s head appeared as they emerged through a trapdoor in the floor. The new arrival climbed up.

She forced herself to keep still as they began to exchange words, despite how her fingers tingled with the urge to let fly.

The new lookout made vague motions with their hands, then the first laughed and punched the second’s shoulder in response to some jest. The first moved past the other and began climbing down the ladder.

The moment his head disappeared from sight, Runa loosed her arrow. The new watchman dropped without a sound.

On the other side, the watchman in the western tower dropped as well.

A storm crow swooped out of the branches above Runa, silent as thought, trailing tail feathers shimmering blue and purple. A second followed just a few wingbeats behind. Then a third.

They dove over the stockade and out of sight.

Please let this be easy.

Over the top of the stockade, Runa saw the crows land on the roof of one of the buildings on the western side. It was taller than the rest, with large double doors — likely a storage barn.

They sauntered as crows did to the edge of the roof and dropped down. She caught a glimpse of something metal partially covered by canvas beside the building’s north wall.

Now they will break the lock and reshape the stockade to allow them all out. Once she is free, we can-

A soldier carrying a lantern pulled himself halfway through the trapdoor — Runa had been so focused on the crows she hadn’t seen the light growing in the ladder shaft.

The soldier froze at the sight of the body. He got out half a warning shout before Runa’s arrow sank into his chest.

Shit.

He gasped, coughed, and dropped the lantern, which bounced off the wooden floor and back down the entry shaft. A second later, glass shattered far below. The soldier grasped for the arrow in his lung, then toppled backwards off the ladder. Another second, then a hard thud.

A shout below, then another, and another, and another.

Shit!

Two more storm crows dove out of the tree above Runa. Their forms began to change midair. Their bodies grew, their feathers shrank, limbs lengthening, joints popping, until they solidified into two kaldorei men in leather and fur — one bald, the other with a thick, dark braid running from the top of his head to his waist. They hit the ground and ran to the stockade, cloaks of black feathers shimmering behind them.

They stopped at its base and the bald druid raised an arm towards it. The other mirrored him, then they both set their feet as if to put their weight against a heavy object, and began murmuring words Runa couldn't catch over the growing sounds of alarm.

Dead leaves and dust began to circle them as their words became a chant. Their voices rose, they lifted their arms, the leaves and dust following. Then the air between them solidified and slammed into the stockade. Solid timber shattered like glass.

Runa yanked the horn from her belt and blew a long, deep note, though it was more a formality than anything. The Huntresses and their sabers below were already leaping through the breach.

Runa leapt from the branch, rolled across the dirt, and vaulted over broken timbers through a cloud of swirling dust. More storm crows swooped past her like whistling arrows. A saber sailed through the dust and splinters an arm’s length from her, all muscle and claws, its rider’s glaive flashing.

To the north, an enormous crash as the druids blasted the gate to splinters.

Distant lantern light turned the dust to orange, silhouetting the dozen or more soldiers that had circled the breach. Mostly humans, and a few of the shorter beings called dwarves. They shouted orders in their strange language, heads snapping around in the murk.

Runa sprinted through a gap between them just before a Huntress charged through, glaive arcing. Steel sliced into flesh, blood sprayed. A body hit the ground, then its head.

A human-sized form appeared in the dust beside Runa, she reached for her dagger, then a storm crow slammed into their face. The human dropped their sword and tried to pull the crow away, shrieking in pain, but two more landed on their shoulders and arms, engulfing them in a cloud of wings and beaks and claws.

The wind whistled, then howled, then a wall of air swept through the combatants. A few humans toppled over, shouting curses. The dust hissed into nothing. On the other side of the courtyard, the three original druids stood with their arms raised.

Runa turned right and ran north. She stopped, blinking dust from her eyes, then caught a sound behind her and threw herself to the ground as a human’s mace whistled through the air where her head had been.

She rolled, rose to one knee, and drew back an arrow as the soldier charged, her mace held high. A heartbeat, then Runa loosed and the arrow sank into the soldier’s throat. Blood spurted, she choked and gasped, stumbled, and dropped with a thud.

Runa sprang to her feet and continued north. A handful of Huntresses and half a dozen archers were pouring through the northern breach. Human and dwarf soldiers ran out of the nearby buildings, some for the south and some for the Sentinels. Arrows flew. The druids had already surrounded the eagle-headed siege engines, their arms raised. Vines sprouted from the ground and stockade, flowing over them, crushing the metal like paper.

She ran past a cluster of tents and jumped over the body of a half-dressed soldier, their eye sockets raw and empty, lips torn to bloody ribbons. Human words Runa had come to recognize echoed behind her.

“We’re under attack!”

“Night elves! Nigh-“ A gargled scream, then a thud.

She glanced at the buildings along the western side. Her feet slowed.

The metal and canvas object beside the storage barn, as she had presumed, was a cage. It was hardly big enough even for a human. Its bars were thick, its construction sound.

But the door hung wide open, and it was empty.

Have they already…? No, they haven’t sounded the-

Something moved in the alley between the storage barn and the building beside it. A flicker of light.

In the alley behind her, someone shouted in Human. A heartbeat of hesitation. She wheeled around, reached for her dagger, but the dwarf soldier’s bayonet caught her thigh and cut straight through leather.

She hissed with pain and fell to a knee. He drew his musket back, raised it to swing again, and she twisted and cracked her bow into the side of his head. He cried out and stumbled, blood pouring down his temple. She scrambled away and pushed herself up. She readied an arrow, sucking in breath through the pain, but he was upon her before she could raise her bow. He swung the musket towards her knees, she feinted, loosed the arrow, and it thunked into the dirt near his foot. She spat a curse and darted past him into the alley.

She slipped into the thick shadow and flattened herself against the wall halfway in. She held her breath as he moved into the alley, musket held low. Pain radiated up her thigh.

The dwarf’s dark eyes flicked back and forth, passing over her twice. He was saying something in a mocking, sing-songy tone, but the words were meaningless.

He walked past her. One more step. Another.

She darted out of the shadows and sank her dagger into the side of his neck. Hot blood sprayed across her knuckles. She tore it free and sprinted out of the alley as he dropped, choking out his last breath.

Runa stopped at the alley’s entrance, the pain in her leg forgotten.

The storage barn was in flames.

This was not part of the plan-!

“What have you done?!” she shouted at a fair-haired archer as she ran past.

“That wasn’t us!” the archer shouted back, and continued on.

“Then who-“

A man screamed, voice shrill with terror, from the building beside the barn. The door had been torn clean off its hinges. Runa caught the movement of a struggle in its dark interior. A smaller figure darting away from a much larger, broader one.

Instinct urged her forward and she ran out into the courtyard. She was halfway across when the dirt near her foot exploded. A blast from somewhere above and behind. She threw herself to the ground, then looked up for the source of the sound.

She could just see the top of a dwarf’s hooded head as they crouched behind the wall of the eastern watchtower, hurriedly reloading a blunderbuss.

“ARCHERS! WATCHTOWERS!” she shouted, and readied an arrow. She forced her eyes to stay on the dwarf even as the sounds of the struggle behind her grew louder.

The dwarf stood and raised their blunderbuss, head peeking out over the wall. Then two arrows pierced their skull and they dropped like a bag of stones.

Runa looked to her left, where twenty or thirty paces away the fair-haired archer was already nocking another arrow. They made eye contact, Runa made a motion of thanks, then spun on her heel and ran to the door of the building. The stinging in her thigh was fading to a dull warmth.

Its interior was silent. She stopped at the doorframe and peered inside.

The firelight poured through small windows and filled the interior with uncanny, wavering shadows. This building was an armory, and it was in ruins. Swords and maces scattered across the floor, empty hooks on the walls, chests of mail and plate armor upended, the tang of weapon oil leaking from broken bottles.

And in the far corner, surrounded by the shattered remains of empty crates, was the corpse of a bearded, pale-skinned human man. He wore leather and cotton. The scabbard on his belt was empty, and beside it was a cat o’ nine tails hanging from a metal ring. He laid on his back in a dark pool of blood, his body twisted, legs splayed awkwardly as if he had been trying to crawl away from something. His eyes were still open, mouth frozen in a silent scream, blood draining from the corners of his lips. His hands gripped the edges of the kite shield that had crushed his throat so completely it still stood upright, jammed clean through his neck into the floorboards.

The hairs on the back of Runa’s neck stood on end. Her eyes moved from the mangled corpse to the door a few paces from him, still hanging open. The stockade was cast in yellow firelight beyond.

She readied another arrow and left the doorway. The smoke stung her eyes and throat as she moved south in a sort of half-run along the line of buildings, away from the fire. Bodies dotted the courtyard and the southern end of the compound. Near the barracks, the Huntresses and druids were making short work of the remaining soldiers.

Runa glanced into every alley as she passed it, but all she saw were shadows. Her heart pounded in her neck. She sprinted past a Huntress and her saber chasing a soldier into an alley, then glanced over her shoulder.

The fire had spread to the armory and was already reaching for the next building down.

Please, gods, grant me a bit more time.

The sound of another gunshot echoed off the stockade, ringing from everywhere at once.

Runa threw herself into an alley. She took a breath and leaned out, an arrow drawn back.

“Healer!” a distant voice shouted from somewhere near the barracks.

Then a second shot, a flash of light in the windows of a small outbuilding on the other side, near the breach.

Runa stayed close to the wall and raised her bow, eyes searching the windows for a silhouette. But either murky shadows filled the inside or the windows were more grime than glass, because there was nothing.

Something in the corner of Runa’s vision caught her attention. Not far from the gunner’s outbuilding, a tall, hulking figure darted into a dark alley.

Too tall to be human.

The wood near Runa’s shoulder exploded into splinters. An instant later the gunshot split the air.

She exclaimed in shock and stumbled back into the alley, blinking wood-dust from her eyes. She spat a curse.

One, two…

She turned and ran towards the stockade, then rounded the corner.

Sitting against the back wall of the building was a dark-haired archer, and beside her the bald druid from the breach. The archer’s face was twisted in pain, the leather on her right shoulder torn and soaked with dark blood. Her bow was still in her limp right hand. The druid was digging in the pouches on his belt, frantic.

Six, seven…

“Did the druids free her?” Runa asked, breathless.

The druid and archer looked up, startled.

The druid shook his head. “We didn’t… No. Two flew down, but couldn’t open the cage before-”

Runa nodded and ran past them.

Fourteen, fifteen, six-

The gunshot rang again. Runa turned on a heel and sprinted back through the buildings into the courtyard. She loosed an arrow into the back of a soldier’s thigh as he ran after an archer, then she reached the alley the figure had disappeared into.

Seven, ei-

Another mangled body was slumped against the wall. Another human. Her shortsword was stuck blade-down in the dirt a few paces away. Her jaw was dislocated, her neck and throat red and raw, blood soaking her collar and running down her plate armor in sheets. Runa stepped closer and saw where skin had torn from muscle. Pale cartilage and tendon.

Someone had nearly ripped this woman’s throat out.

A possibility flickered into Runa’s mind. A chill on her nape again. But she set her jaw and continued past the body. She reached the end of the alley and paused.

Fifteen, sixteen… seventeen…

Eighteen…

Nineteen…

Twenty…?

She leaned around the corner, back towards the breach, as the shot finally rang out. A flash of light and a portion of the stockade burst into splinters. Then a man shouted with alarm. An arrow flew from the courtyard and sank into the stockade, followed by a second thunk where the man’s voice had come from. He shouted again — gargled, weak. A thud.

Then the hulking figure ran out from the same alley, but this time Runa caught the shape of long ears, lilac hair, and ragged clothes.

Her heart leapt.

“Falore!” She ran out of the alley, but the other kaldorei had already disappeared through the breach into the forest beyond.

Runa pulled the horn from her belt and blew two, deep notes, the second longer than the first — mission success.

A few distant, triumphant shouts sounded from the corners of the compound, but the sound of whistling arrows and clashing steel continued.

There were still intruders to kill.

She ran to the breach and vaulted over the broken timbers, now spattered with drying blood, and landed in the dirt on the other side. Her momentum carried her to the tree line, but her steps faltered. She looked down at the dirt around her then back at the breach.

The confusion of footprints made tracking impossible.

A calm hoot from above and Runa turned. Kim’shalla’s eyes glinted from a tangle of branches.

Oh, bless you.

Runa clicked her tongue and nodded into the forest.

Kim’shalla left its perch and glided through the trees a short distance before alighting upon a low branch. It turned its head to look back at Runa and gave a slow blink.

She stepped into the trees, fighting the urge to run. When she was nearly below Kim’shalla it took flight again, glided in a slightly different direction, and landed again. She followed. It flew, landed, and she still kept pace.

They continued like this for minutes, pausing every now and then while Kim’shalla tilted its head to listen.

To Runa, the forest was silent. The din of the battle became no more than a distant hum. And in the silence, her relief at having freed the prisoner began to sour into something else. She found herself gripping her bow a little tighter, though she couldn’t name why.

She became increasingly aware of how her footsteps were cracking thunder in the heavy silence and shadows.

Kim’shalla landed in a tree at the top of a low hill. Once Runa reached its crest, she paused and raised her ears. She heard it too, now: dry, ragged panting.

She broke into a half-run, heart pounding harder. Kim’shalla followed.

They came to the edge of a small glade, and Runa stopped.

The kaldorei woman she had seen sprinting through the breach was on the ground, leaning against a tree, her back to Runa. Her lilac hair was tangled and matted, her broad shoulders heaving and shaking. She wore only ragged trousers, which meant Runa could see the red, glistening, crisscrossing tangle of weeping wounds covering her from her nape to the small of her back. Raw muscle bared to the elements. Blood fresh and old ran in sheets down her back and over her sides. The wounds had not even been given the chance to scab over.

Those sadistic, godless devils!

She began creeping forward, bow held low — she did not remember nocking an arrow — but stopped a few paces from the woman.

Something about the way she hunched over, the way her shoulders shook, the twitching of her ears… it wasn’t right.

Runa opened her mouth, searching her mind for the name from the briefing. Her heart pounding in her neck didn't make it easier. She could only remember the second half.

“Falore Bla-?”

The woman whipped around, lips pulled back, teeth bared, eyes wide, wild, and devoid of everything but primal rage.

Blackhelm lunged, hands reaching, and ripped the bow from Runa’s hands. Runa leapt away. Kim’shalla screamed harsh and hollow.

Blackhelm tossed the bow aside and pushed herself to her feet. A strange, wheezing, almost-growl leaked through her teeth. Her eyes were two pinpoints of icy white light in dark, sunken sockets. Her chest heaved, thick muscle showing through skin thinned by deprivation. Blood ran from a cut on her forehead, down her cheek and over the taught tendons in her neck. Her hands were dark with blood.

Runa couldn’t move. Something about those eyes locked her in place. It was something ancient. Something unknowable. Something older than the kaldorei themselves.

Wolf-touched.

Kim'shalla screamed again, shaking Runa out of her fear-trance.

“Falore!” she shouted. “Blackhelm! Stand down!”

Blackhelm took a step forward. Her whole body shivered. So much muscle overloaded with so much more tension than it was ever made to bear. How it had not already torn her apart…

Another step forward, and the final spark of memory.

“Tarinne!” Runa reached for her dagger. “Stand down now!”

Tarinne Blackhelm blinked. Another half-step forward, and Runa pulled her dagger. Then Tarinne blinked again. She squeezed her eyes shut, shook her head weakly, then stumbled and fell to one knee.

Runa hesitated.

The wheezing growl fizzled away. Tarinne took in a few gasping breaths and began coughing horrible, wracking coughs. Like she had not tasted water in days.

Runa sheathed her dagger, ran up, and crouched beside her.

Tarinne looked up as she did and shrank away just an inch. Her eyes were wide, bloodshot, and desperate.

“Falore,” Runa said gently. She held her hand above her shoulder, debating whether or not to touch her. “What did they…?”

“Healer,” she rasped. Dry strings of saliva and phlegm hung from her lips. “I need… a…”

She collapsed with a rattling sigh, and Runa's heart dropped. But then Tarinne's chest rose with breath, and with shaking hands, Runa stood.

”Healer…“ she breathed, mind still processing this. She looked up, back the way she’d come.

“Healer!”

She broke into a run, back to the outpost and the glow of the fire, her bow forgotten.

”I NEED A HEALER!“

#my art #my writing #tarinne #night elf #kaldorei #au lore #it's okay guys she's fine now #this was thirty years ago as of BfA #she still needs therapy about it but she's FINE #I just wanted to explore my thor'drinn idea as a little story and it was the perfect opportunity :)

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dodorimo · 2 months

Text

in his name

It’s moments like these that she wished she could fold in her hand, like a crumpled piece of paper, and tuck safely in her pockets, to revisit whenever she wanted.

Canon-divergent AU in which Bhaal visits a young Orin and Dark Urge in their dreams. Rated T, 1.2k

Tags: animal cruelty, violence, grooming, the worst people you know have a quality family time

AO3 link

It’s moments like these that she wished she could fold in her hand, like a crumpled piece of paper, and tuck safely in her pockets, to revisit whenever she wanted.

Her father guided her through the quiet forest, his hand on her back—never on hers, as much as she wanted so—its comforting presence a balm to her heightened spirits. The breeze carried the smell of rain, and the early morning fog hung over her like a snug blanket. If she squinted hard enough, she could still make out the silhouette of the cabin that she had come to think of as her home in the distance. Her favorite days were the ones spent in her father's company after waking up in that same wooden cabin.

An almost pastoral scenery, if she didn’t know any better.

Bhaal never said where he would take her in her dreams. It was nowhere and everywhere. A pocket of reality made just for them—a haven.

Eirin thought it was perfect.

Only one thing spoiled the idyllic picture.

Orin trailed not far behind them. She could hear the sounds of branches snapping as the older girl stamped her feet, could practically feel her furious gaze boring into her back. If she looked back, she had no doubt her face would be contorted into an ugly mug, as it often was, but she paid her no mind.

Let her sulk. All Orin did is sulk these days.

Turning her attention to happier matters, she chanced a look at her father's profile. Bhaal’s hair was a perfect mirror of her own, long and shiny like threads of silver. Orin’s hair was different, a shade darker, less moonlight and more setting sun over a steep hill.

What did the other kids call her? That’s right. Half-breed. The meaning of the word eluded her, but it seemed to anger her sister like nothing else could.

Without warning, Bhaal stopped in his tracks and Eirin was pulled from her musings, her back taut as a string and ears straining to catch any hint of sound.

He held up his hand, motioning for them to stay put. Following his lead was as easy as slipping into her night clothes, no trouble for her at all. He walked to a bush and knelt down, his long black cape blocking her view.

When he turned around, she saw that he held a young hare in his arms, its fur coat white as snow.

“All living things are meant to perish.” His voice was little more than a whisper, but she heard him as if he were standing next to her. “The least we can do is rush them to their ends.”

He beckoned her to come closer, and she knew what she had to do. Her hand hovered over her dagger out of instinct.

The hare remained perfectly still, subdued, its crimson eyes opened wide.

“… It won’t even fight back,” she grumbled, already regretting her words. “What’s the sport in this?”

Bhaal took his time to answer, a faraway look in his eyes, as if reminiscing about the long-forgotten past. She was always struck by the strange quality of that gaze; the passing of centuries, a concept too foreign for her to grasp.

Bhaal was mortal too, once.

Hard to believe now.

“I was very lenient with your education. Careless. My mistake.”

She would have preferred anger or scorn, anything to the indifference on his face as he handed the hare to a grinning Orin. Her sister looked at her with barely disguised triumph, and she felt her gut churn in response.

Orin kept her eyes on her as she knelt in the tall grass and drew her dagger from its sheath. The first blow was aimed at the hare's throat, blood gushing from the wound to form a puddle beneath her feet.

She wasn’t spared from the spray of blood, and neither did Bhaal, who remained silent, eyes occasionally darting away from Orin to gauge her reaction. Orin, of course, wasn’t blind to this. Nothing escaped those milky white eyes whenever their father was concerned. But she didn’t let it faze her. On the contrary: her blade flew with acute precision; cutting, slicing, and peeling skin from bones. An eye was ripped out from the skull. One ear was torn off, thrown to the ground for the vermin to feast on.

A gruesome spectacle. Purposeless and meant to impress.

Silly Orin. Her father didn’t care if a man was murdered with one stab or a hundred. It was one of the first lessons he taught them. He didn’t bother correcting her now.

She remembered a time when she woke up in the cabin with blood on her hands and her clothes in disarray. She had gotten into a fight with one of the taller kids and made a fool of herself. In her anxiety-ridden state, she feared the worst. Her father had explicitly advised her to pick her battles wisely. What good was an heir prone to bouts of childish anger? Tears streaming down her face, she tried to wipe her hands on the bedsheets, on the fabric of her dress, but only managed to stain it further. Bhaal appeared shortly thereafter. He took her trembling hand in his, ran his fingers over her knuckles, and then ruffled her hair a little. It soothed her crying like candy to a baby. The following day, she wore the bloody shape of his fingers on her forehead with pride.

Her father was a strange man. If she could even call him a man, that is. He praised her stubbornness and admonished her in the same breath; he demanded absolute obedience and none at all. Eirin wondered if there would ever come a time when she would understand him, even begin to see the reasoning in his ways, but then again, all adults were strange.

Their gaze met above the bloodbath. They both knew where her mind went. She tried to tell him with her eyes, ‘That was different! That pig-faced little bastard! My dagger was too good for him.’ And he replied just as silently, ‘Just as the scales do not tip towards the weight of a man’s guilt, it makes no difference in the end. You’ll learn this, in due time.’

“I saw another burrow further away,” Bhaal said after the hare was reduced to nothing but a pile of disjointed flesh on the ground. He didn't need to elaborate, his meaning clear. He wouldn’t tolerate another mishap. ‘The stench of failure is discernible for those with a keen sense of smell’, he said to her once. The feeling in her gut came back with a vengeance.

She thought of hands in her hair and bloody fingerprints on her skin. “I’ll do it, Father,” she said with more confidence than she felt. “I won’t disappoint you.”

#something short bc i've the attention span of a wallnut #my writing #mine #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #orin the red #the dark urge

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dearly-beeloved · 1 month

Text

Under a Rosy Sky

what do you give a man who just needs a vacation? the foreigner wife of Lord Kamisato wonders.

@adoredbyalatus @dorothys-wife @one-winged-dreams @kylars-princess

Coventina yawned, looking out the window. Her cup of tea had long since gone cold, but the breeze that came through the window was pleasantly not cold anymore. Spring had come to Inazuma so gradually she hadn't noticed until it was already there.

That wasn't really that different from how spring always came to Mondstadt, but she was still getting used to Inazuma, so she wasn't yet accustomed to the signs of spring. But some were impossible to miss, like the Sakura trees beginning to bloom in pink.

Soon enough, Ei, Miko, and Dae would be making crowns of flowers for one another. Coventina would have to go get a look at the Sakura blooms before--oh, that was an idea.

She rose from where she was sitting, wandering toward Ayato's office. She could hear his sighs and soft hums of thought even from the other end of the hall, but she smiled to herself--if he was that wrapped up in his work, he had no idea she was coming.

She opened the door as quietly as she could, walking through it and around Ayato's desk before he even looked up at the sound of her entering.

"Coventina," he greeted, since she was the only person who ever came in without saying anything. She was already behind his chair.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, leaning her chest against his upper back and resting her nose in the field of floral-scented blue that was his hair. "Hi, you." She lifted her head, chin to the crown of his head. "You busy?"

"Unfortunately, yes. For every form I finish, it seems like there are three more waiting for me."

Coventina sighed. "All right, well. It is your birthday and getting toward the evening. Can you take a break? Do you want to go look at the Sakura blossoms?"

He set down his pen and took hold of one of her hands. "Would that make you happy, my sweet?"

"Yes, it would." Her smile was clear in her voice. "Wouldn't it make you happy? If you want to sit here working through your birthday, letting the rest of the Tri-Commission steal every hour of a special day that comes once a year, and the chance to spend that time with your wife, I guess I won't stop you."

"No, no, I can't give up all my precious youth--if I even have any left. Chiori was telling me I'm getting wrinkles again."

Coventina pulled on the outer edges of Ayato's eyebrows, giggling. "That's just because you furrow your brows so much, you workaholic." She let go of him. "And when did you see Chiori?"

"I was asking after silk in more shades of blue at Ogura Textiles, and she happened to be in town, occupying all of Mio's time."

"Oh."

"Ayaka said she'd take care of it, so I left it to her. Are we going?"

"I thought you'd never ask," she bubbled, no longer leaned against him so he could get up. He stretched out a hand once he'd gotten his pants and jacket straightened out, and she looked at it, brow knit, until he wiggled his fingers.

She laid her hand in his, and he smiled, lacing their fingers before they left the room.

"Oh it's really nice out," Coventina sighed as they stepped outside.

"I'm glad you brought me out here before we wasted this clement weather."

"I'm glad you've got good weather for your birthday. I never get it."

"You were born in the thick of winter." He squeezed her hand. "To Grand Narukami Shrine?"

She nodded.

"It must be boring, seeing these when you probably see them every year," Coventina noted as they rounded the side of Mount Yougou.

"It's a guessing game when the first flowers will open each year, which adds some interest. And this is your first spring seeing them, so I find that the very opposite of boring, personally," Ayato assured her. He let go of her hand for a moment, to pluck a Sakura petal from her hair. They stood underneath one of the trees, watching the branch closest to them sway in the warm, gentle breeze, just holding hands. "And more than any reason that isn't 'simply being with you,' it's a good break from the monotony of my work tasks. It can't be more boring than work." He laughed, and after a moment, she did too.

They descended the mountain again, and Coventina held Ayato's hand a little more tightly. "Before we go anywhere--before we go back home...do you want to maybe go get boba tea?"

Ayato's hum of amusement was an endeared one. "You did intend to spoil me for the occasion, then."

"Just a little," Coventina murmured.

They walked back toward the estate still hand in hand, their free hands clutching cups of tea.

"I don't know how you deal with those," she remarked, laughing as he sipped his tea, trying not to slurp the pearls when they were in public. "Aren't you scared you're going to choke?"

"I haven't so far," Ayato said with a shrug. "How's yours? I've never seen purple before."

"Aedin said Violetgrass is good in tea, and she's right. Here, try it." She held her cup out to him, and he took a larger than necessary sip, when he was used to needing a lot of suction.

He swallowed the large mouthful of tea. "That is nice. Milder than I thought."

"Mm-hmm," she agreed, sipping her tea again, thinking dimly about the indirect kiss element. It was a silly thought, when she could kiss him directly whenever she liked, but it still thrilled her a little bit.

"Here, you want a sip of mine?" he asked. "It's sweeter, but you usually like it. If you get a pearl, I'll take it."

"How are we going to get it from my mouth to yours?"

He gave her a grin.

"We'll make a mess," she replied simply. "If you want to kiss me, just do that."

"All right." He stopped them both, using their clasped hands to bring her closer with a little flourish, and then bent to kiss her.

When they parted, she smiled. "Do you have to go back to work?"

He shook his head. "I'm spending more time with you. Today only comes once a year. I'm not wasting it on paperwork."

He kissed her again, and they kept walking down the road hand in hand, still sipping their tea--and each other's.

#fic #cypress and camellia

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synxis · 2 months

Text

𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐌 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐒 𝐔𝐏 to the other, his third eye narrowing. Towering over Doom, nearly twice his size, was the comet's own kill worm, the Prophet. It had its uses, more valuable than not. They saw branching paths into the future, able to predict potential failed battles and compensate for diverting outcomes as a result. Their advice was invaluable, essential to the comet's thriving existence. However, they had a talent for getting under Doom's skin, which was reason enough for Doom to constantly consider their worth.

"You mustn't get caught up with details, m'lord, you'll age faster."

"Details are exactly why I even bother keeping you alive at all," He reminds, irritation worn plainly. "Are you going to answer me or are you going to waste my time further?"

The kill worm laughed lightly, a nearby tendril waving the other off. "You will leave the comet for a while. Temporarily, of course. Nothing to fuss about, truly ✦ !" The enormity and dignified appearance of the prophet clashed terribly with its causal manner of speaking, especially while addressing Black Doom. It was a grievance the overlord had brought up more than once, but it always had a fondness for doing as it pleased. Black Doom had many reasons why his comet was kept so tightly under his control at all times, the Prophet given free will was nearly at the top of his list.

"Have you considered that—"

Black Doom felt it before it ever appeared — a bright portal, almost blindingly so — manifesting itself beside the pair. The leader tenses, attempting to close it himself, destroy it, nullify, anything. The more he resisted, the faster he was drawn to its maw. The Prophet watches Doom, seeing him struggle and strain against its pull, while the Prophet remains comfortably where it was. The portal's insistence was ironclad, only interested in the overlord and ignoring all else, not giving Black Doom a chance to refuse its will. There was one last frustrated roar before the leader of the black arms was swallowed up entirely — and then there was nothing at all.

"Have fun, m'lord." — ✦ — Transference via portal was nothing new. Entirely normal, especially when invading unsuspecting planets. Which was why this one felt so different. Besides the fact that whatever caused this was powerful enough to catch Black Doom off guard (even with the vague warning of the Prophet), it was shaping him strangely, as if he were freshly born clay ready to be thrown into something new. Control was taken from him, thrown around until he met its end. The portal flashes open, unceremoniously spitting out a smaller being, and then leaving as quickly as it arrived. He was momentarily shocked to hit the ground, not from pain, but having expected his form to float as always. For a moment, he stays where he is, buried underneath his chains and silks, before shooting upright. He sat on the floor, his robes pooled around him — bleary vision clearing, it was immediately obvious his large robes no longer fit him. They hardly clung to his body, which was nearly a fraction of his original size. Dull eyes slowly traveled up his small (mobian) arm, dread ebbing its way into his chest as he could only stare blankly at it. A flex of his hand, testing to see if it was indeed his own, which it was. He wraps his robes around him in an attempt to cover his new, strange form. He puts a pin in the exploration for now, calling out to his hive for assistance — only to be met with nothing. A silence he'd never felt before. They were alive, but he was unable to reach them.

Where was he? @oblivisscaris

#‵ 　　　　doom 、 ic　﹐#oblivisscaris 、#WAHOO new thread new AU

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hrefna-the-raven · 6 months

Text

Web of faith

Masterlist - BG3 masterlist

Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - drider ending

Words: 2716

Notes: this story will have two different endings, depending on which Kar'niss you prefer

Chapter 7 - Drow ending

"Eilistraee", Kar'niss whispered as he bowed before her.

"Welcome back", the druid smiled at him, "let's rest the night and head back to the grove at sunrise."

"Promise me you'll come visit", you pleaded.

Gale nodded, mumbling an incantation and watched with teary eyes as you stepped through the portal.

"Kar'niss", he heard your voice call out.

"Kar'niss, there you are!", you beamed as you sprinted towards the drider.

NOTE:

below is my canon ending for the story, if you prefer driders, you should click here and not read below ;)

He turned around, swallowing the last drops of the liquid and focused his seven eyes on your delicate form. If his mind wasn't deceiving him once again, you were truly rushing towards him. He felt the softness of your skin as your arms encircled his lower body, pulling him into a tight embrace.

"You came back?", he sobbed.

"Silly Niss", you chuckled, giving him a playful slap, "of course I came back."

He longed to bend down, hold you tightly, and never let go, whispering all the sweet words his mind could conjure, but something felt wrong as his body refused to obey his commands. His lips parted but no sound escaped. Instead, black goo oozed from his mouth and chitinous parts and his vision through his spider eyes darkened. His eight legs trembled, causing him to stumble backwards, tripping over the edge of the cliff and plummeting towards the water. Frantic bubbling noises erupted from his throat as he witnessed your terrified visage emerge from above, lips moving as if uttering a scream, yet no sound reached his ears as he hit the surface. The icy dampness of the water stung against his sudden hypersensitive skin, his consciousness waning as his form vanished into the depths, leaving behind only an inky cloud.

It felt like an eternity had passed before your body reacted, leaping into the water, plunging deep in a desperate endeavour to save Kar'niss. You delved further until the darkness surrounding you dissipated, but instead of finding your drider, your eyes beheld the figure of a pallid drow. Without hesitation, you seized him and struggled back to the surface, your lungs burning from the absence of air. As soon as you emerged from the water's embrace, you gasped for breath and swam toward the shore. Dragging the drow onto the sand, you readied yourself to once again submerge into the sea in search of Kar'niss when you finally noticed his face. He bore an uncanny resemblance to the person you held dear, but the once five spider-like eyes, were now only pale marks. Your gaze wandered over his exposed form as you knelt beside him. His shoulders and arms were adorned with the same tissue of scars, the familiar scar on his lips painting a faint smile on your lips. Another scar encircled his midsection but instead of merging into a spider body, it blending seamlessly into the normal lower body of a drow. A flush coloured your cheeks as your eyes lingered a little too long on his length, recalling the last time you shared such intimacy before your beloved fell under a curse. The drow before you was Kar'niss, his body marred by scars and his once dark grey skin now an alabaster white, yet there was no doubt that it was him. You gently brushed aside a strand of hair from his face, your hand retreating as he stirred awake, slowly opening his eyes to meet yours - those beautiful drider eyes with black orbs and brown irises remaining unchanged. He winced, softly uttering your name as his hand extended to brush against your face. His eyes widened in astonishment upon feeling the tenderness of your skin, his fingertips gently tracing along your cheek, caressing you with a newfound confidence, liberated from the torment of an eternal curse.

"Niss", you cried, tears streaming down your face, your hands clasping his to keep them in place as you leaned into his touch.

Kar'niss pulled you closer, his lips lightly brushing against yours in a timid kiss. The sensation threatened to consume him, not accustomed anymore to such sensitivity in his skin. He let out a soft moan, embracing you tightly, drawing your body flat onto his own, oblivious to his surroundings. The blissful contact of skin against skin engulfed his senses, overwhelming yet still not enough. In that moment, Kar'niss cared little for who might witness your reunion or where you were. His mind was his own again, his body restored to its rightful state and he didn't care for any new scars. All that mattered was that every trace of Lolth's curse had vanished, allowing him to once again feel the warmth of your touch with his very own body and soul.

"Niss", you moaned, "we shouldn't do this here."

A gasp escaped your lips as Kar'niss' hands squeezed your butt, pressing your hips further down on his hard member.

"I-I-I don't care, I need this now, I need you", he breathed.

He held you tight, rolling to the side before shuffling between your legs. His hands fumbled eagerly at your pants, desperate to get rid of the last layers of fabric that kept him from worshipping every inch of your naked beauty.

You couldn't help but smile as you observed his brows knit together, his eager expression transforming into bewilderment as he struggled to comprehend why it suddenly seemed so challenging to rip those garments from your form. Your hands gently pushed his away, sliding your pants down and lifting the tunic over your head, leaving you completely exposed before your beloved. It almost felt like your first time together, nervousness cursing through you, just as much as the anticipation of having buried deep inside you again. Your eyes closed in delight as soon as you felt two fingers teasingly graze your entrance, while his tender lips pressed against your sensitive nub.

"I remember your taste, my tiny goddess of flesh", he mumbled against your wetness before delicately sucking and licking your clit.

Your hips instinctively bucked, the sinful sounds of your moans blending with the rhythmic crashing of the waves as Kar'niss' tongue skillfully danced between your wet folds, his fingers pumping into you at a lazy pace. This time, no protective spell dimished the sensation of his slender fingers curling up inside you, rubbing the right spot and his tongue pleasured you in ways you had never experienced with him before, not even back then at Moonrise Towers. However you didn't want to cum just yet, not like this, you needed all of him inside you, so you grasped his head and guided him to move up. Kar'niss immediately understood your desire and almost jumped on top of you, his hard cock gliding into you and you both moan in pleasure. He thrusted into you at a merciless, chasing both of you towards the edge as neither of you had the patience to go slow. In that moment, time seemed to rewind, transporting you back to that small sanctuary in the Underdark, bodies and souls dancing in perfect harmony through the planes of your desires as the pleasure of your sweet release embraced both of you simultaneously. Kar'niss almost ang your name before he collapsed on you, his breath ragged. Your hand found its way to his head, your fingers brushing softly through his hair, gently pushing him off you with a chuckle.

"What's on your mind, my love?", he whispered softly.

"We are finally here together. Our future begins now."

You couldn't hold back the smile that itched at the corners of your lips and neither could Kar'niss. Your journey, as heartbreaking as it may have started, was finally at an end....a rather happy end....

Tags:

@orionspaperwork

@mxxny-lupin

@traumaramacenter

@dark-and-kawaii

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