#soul coins/deal with a devil

[stone-stars]

songs in c3e57: cold hard truths (timestamps from the ad-free version. does not include the generic combat music. "a wizard's tournament" is the recap song.)

Home is Where the Hearth is - 8:20

Secret Basement - 10:30

Left is Left and Right is Center - 12:28

Soul Coins/Deal with a Devil - 17:37

Secret Basement - 19:29

Spearmint & Tea Leaves - 21:24 and 25:05

A Fairy Remembers - 31:12

Haunting Visages - 33:11

Unknown Tome - 38:50

Corrupted - 41:51

The Pact - 43:19

Escape from Smuggler's Bounty - 45:37

Puzzled - 1:01:19

Bronzebeard Baddies - 1:03:45

Corrupted - 1:09:22

The Prodigal Sister - 1:11:25

Bronzebeard Baddies - 1:19:15

A Fairy Remembers - 1:21:29

Spearmint & Tea Leaves - 1:23:26, 1:24:52, and 1:25:51

A Friend for Life - 1:28:11

Unknown Tome - 1:31:40

context for each song + notes under the cut!

Home is Where the Hearth is - 8:20 - Callie playing a countercharm as they enter the next part of the caverns

Secret Basement - 10:30 - Discussing the next challenge being solo

Left is Left and Right is Center - 12:28 - Sol gives Callie back some spell slots w/ ki

Soul Coins/Deal with a Devil - 17:37 - Discussing where to send the serpents

Secret Basement - 19:29 - Listening for what door to go down

Spearmint & Tea Leaves - 21:24 and 25:05 - Callie entering her challenge / Callie and the memory of her mother

A Fairy Remembers - 31:12 - The board game table rises up

Haunting Visages - 33:11 - Sol sees the images/visions of Swag

Unknown Tome - 38:50 - Black smoke appears and the Swags attack

Corrupted - 41:51 - Gowan admits he's made a deal with Alexandrite

The Pact - 43:19 - Calder trying to persuade Gowan

Escape from Smuggler's Bounty - 45:37 - Gowan proposes settling it through wrestling

Puzzled - 1:01:19 - Oliana explains the game

Bronzebeard Baddies - 1:03:45 - Oliana and Callie playing chess

Corrupted - 1:09:22 - Alexandrite!Swag is revealed after being defeated

The Prodigal Sister - 1:11:25 - Swag says goodbye

Bronzebeard Baddies - 1:19:15 - Oliana and Callie playing chess

A Fairy Remembers - 1:21:29 - Callie wins

Spearmint & Tea Leaves - 1:23:26, 1:24:52, and 1:25:51 - Oliana's last advice to Callie

A Friend for Life - 1:28:11 - Duck team reunites on the bridge

Unknown Tome - 1:31:40 - Black smoke appears and the giants defrost

New songs: "Spearmint & Tea Leaves" and "Home is Where the Hearth is" Unlisted in the credits: "Puzzled" and "The Prodigal Sister"

#naddpod #ba2mia #song timestamps #this is going to be a lot of work to do every time but since tumblr search is broken i'm going to make tags for songs #home is where the hearth is #secret basement #left is left and right is center #soul coins/deal with a devil #spearmint & tea leaves #a fairy remembers #haunting visages #unknown tome #corrupted #the pact #escape from smuggler's bounty #puzzled #bronzebeard baddies #the prodigal sister #a friend for life #also i have an unhealthy attachment to soul coins #being called deal with a devil #bc it's called that throughout the entire hellfire arc brian!! #why'd you change it for c2/3!!! #thus the tag for it is both names.

[smol-tired-binch-blog]

Hmm. I’m having yakuza!Makoto thoughts

#makoto makimura #well not *yakuza* per se but like. she asked for the heads of three men as payment for her brother's death. she asked the guy sent to kill #her to help. when he said no she went 'fine i'll do it myself' *whilst still half blind in a city she doesnt know*. literally SUCH a badass #i think she shouldve been allowed to be bloodthirsty and fucked up and a little bit evil i think she's earned it. anyway im imagining #a world where she succeeded. can you imagine? she and Majima become a power couple. sure he's the Mad Dog of Shimano but you should meet #the one he lets hold his leash. this small sweet angel-faced beauty who looks like she wouldnt hurt a fly but if you cross her or hurt #people she cares about or innocent people and you'll WISH you were dealing with the Mad Dog #i kinda wanna make art for this. I think her nickname should be Heaven's Devil. or Heaven's Demon idk what sounds better #though i have heard that cause Lee was God Hands she should be Angel Hands which SO TRUE so i wanna keep that heavenly holy imagery #like i know Hell's Angels are like a Thing (bikers i think??) but that title suits Majima I think. a kind good soul kept in the depths #Makoto's the opposite side of the coin. the brutality in the light. do you see my vision?

[runaeveena]

Your dashboard if you were in a d&d fantasy world still involved in fictional erotica discourse part 2

⛰️ berenicesblade Follow

now that the new Mountain Angel volume has come out can we please tag spoilers, some of us are still waiting for our pigeon mail

🦚 faeynadaughter Follow

you can access the volume in full on TomePlane!

🎭 bardcampistrash Follow

until TomePlane acknowledges that its interplanar storage is made possible by binding aboleths to the plane and killing them then we are going to continue not using that platform, thanks

🦚 faeynadaughter Follow

aboleths killed my cousin who was a royal cleric. ill never understand why theres a whole movement to protect abyssal creatures when theyve caused so much damage to our kingdoms. and disliking a pocket dimension which provides thousands of people access to books? your attitude reeks of anti literaturism and mal-aligned virtue signaling and im not sure which is worse

🫒 tenthday237 Follow

Aliizya gets pregnant on page 62

⛰️ berenicesblade Follow

banished

620 Notes

🏰 finchtruther Follow

okay but the way that faelor finch writes every song that perfectly fits pennbiel liiike its giving closet fangirl

🧭 waywardwarlock

seriouslyy!! like what else is "give me your unmarked hand / in the shadowfell we won't be a secret" supposed to be about if not pennipher and corabiel

16 Notes

🌫️ cloudgiant-snailboy Follow

yall please dont fill up the unseen servant tag with your super fucking weird smut posts im just looking for tips on how to find my unseen servant

🪡 scç-writer

the search function on tomeblr does need to be updated but we dont have to kinkshame :)

🌫️ cloudgiant-snailboy Follow

the site is being overrun by virgin degenerates

🍯 treebarkhookhandwagondoor

sounds like you need Wilam the Wizard with Wandering Hands to help you summon the unseen stick in your ass

290 Notes

🗝️ crypt-princess Follow

so whose going to be the first to commission a painting of that scene with Aliizya and the beholder 👀

🍎 bloodmaledickening Follow

i already asked my local artisan he said he's gotten two other commissions for the same scene lmao

🐁 softbarbarian

girl i commissioned a tapestry

45 Notes

🕯️ andersfirelight Follow

friendly reminder that devil deals are a real thing that a lot of people fall victim too and that demons are malicious and do destroy peoples lives if theyre not careful so please be careful when consuming works like Hellionfinity which romanticizes devil deals and fiendish soul contracts

🌾entangled-farmer Follow

imo any work of fiction that involves a romance between any type of fiend is not just problematic but harmful

🕯️ andersfirelight Follow

i used to be indifferent to books that had devil romance interests because like thats their whole thing theyre seducing people to get their souls and the mc overcomes it, but reading through the replies i see that Hellionfinity actually ends with the devil character as the main romantic lead which is super problematic in terms of power imbalance and the fact that he has a redemption arc is so out of touch especially since our military is finally recovering from the azgurian assault

🧚🏻‍♂️arms-of-faelor

helliofinity also has a scene where the main character uses a soul coin that an imprisoned mortal gave him and he uses it to bring the devil out of avernus so he doesnt fully die and no one in the book mentions it or talks about how messed up it is to use soul coins and we never see the now bound to hell prisoner ever again

🕯️ andersfirelight Follow

hellionfinity officially cancelled on my end!

88 Notes

☘️ celest-ial Follow

moment of silence for all the customers waiting on drink orders while the tavern wench gets her back blown out by a new guy every night ✊😔

🦁 king-killa Follow

the gods work hard but Girthy Gladys gets worked harder

57,022 Notes

🎲 beholdersbeholdingme

paladin and warlock romances are OUT! cleric and necromancer romances are IN!

🪭 royalcoinpurse Follow

the only thing a cleric should do to a necromancer is beat him to death so she can revive him and kill him again

🎲 beholdersbeholdingme

❇️ arch-dryad Follow

i think we need to analyze why we're so quick to place women in categories of devious seductress or healer in romance novels as if that hasnt been the pervasive trope that holds magic-touched women back in our actual society

🍯 treebarkhookhandwagondoor

why do you assume these fictional tropes are mf couples only? can a gay cleric not beat his gay necromancer boyfriend to death?

🎲 beholdersbeholdingme

and off! beat him off cmon guys

5,275 Notes

🧀 weremouse Follow

yall ever be talking or whatnot and feel like no one understands you

🪨 sebrenenogdon Follow

ᛄᚠ ᛡᚢ ᚳᚪᚾ ᚱᛁᛞ ᚦᛄᛋ ᛡᚢ ᚺᚪᚠ ᛏᚢ ᚱᛁᛒᛚᚪᚷ ᚦᛄᛋ

🧀 weremouse Follow

say that shit fr (<- looking around clueless)

🪨 sebrenenogdon Follow

ᛋᛁᚱᛁᚪᛋᛚᛁ

60 Notes

🌠 crownofstars

remember when that person made a call out post for the author of ilairepeler for using a ghost writer and it turned out the author was an actual ghost. writing. like a literal ghost writer. like.

🍄gnomestool Follow

arent you the dwarf that fucked a slaad

🌠 crownofstars

how would you like to become a ghost so you can write more witty comments like this for eternity

301 Notes

#round two please laff i did this at work #fantasy dashboard #tumblr dashboard meme #dungeons and dragons #d&d #bg3 #dungeon meshi #my post

[mllemaenad]

Listening to Wyll's backstory in context of all the details we're acquiring on devil's contracts and soul selling is fascinating.

See - I listened to Lann Tarv's three tales to get my soul coins. I felt bad for making Karlach listen to that, obviously, but to be honest I didn't even want the coins that much. I actually wanted the stories. I wanted a better understanding of how this works.

And what I'm learning is - for the gods (and godlike beings) of this world, cruelty seems to be the point. I mean - it's possible there's a god in this world I wouldn't want to stab to death with a rusty fork, but if so I have not met them yet.

These beings have the power to save people and places, to change lives, to do anything. And when someone asks them to - they demand a terrible price. But they don't just demand a price. They subvert the original request in such a way that they utterly fail to deliver on the original promise.

An abused woman wishes to be loved - and her true love appears, but dies instantly. A man wishes to save his children from starvation, and ends up personally growing masses of meat on his own body - not only painful for him, but forcing his children into survival cannibalism, which they were trying to avoid.

Auntie Ethel works the same way. Every one of her customers is left in a tortured state, while Ethel still takes her payment.

The idea is that the person must come to regret their wish long before the payment comes due. Every cry for help must be met with a boot to the face. Or else the mortals will get uppity? Or something.

What is interesting is how consciously Wyll defies that. And how much Mizora is dancing around, trying to force him into that state of miserable regret.

Wyll was manipulated into selling his soul. He was a kid, and he was summoned into a terrible situation - and in that moment, he could see no other way to save the city. Mizora did need to save Baldur's Gate to serve her boss's purposes, so she couldn't take that victory from him - but she did everything she could to take the joy of it.

He didn't get respect, or admiration, or his father's pride for saving the city. He lost his home and his family. He was assumed to have done something monstrous because he was denied an opportunity to defend himself.

That was supposed to fill him with bitterness and regret - but he got to work building his own life instead. By the time you run into him, the Blade of Frontiers is a hero of some renown. He's remade himself, and found a way to enjoy what his powers can do, however he came by them.

So that didn't work.

Then Mizora sent him after Karlach, and that was a mission tailored to break him. Karlach is kind and heroic herself, and that the start she has been sold into slavery, mutilated and forced to fight in a war against her will. If Wyll killed her, and then found out who she really was, then he betrayed everything the Blade of Frontiers is supposed to stand for - and he would lose the life he made for himself.

But he didn't, and that didn't work either. He's got a friend, now, who at least knows part of what he's dealing with.

So Mizora gave him demonic features. That would destroy the life he's made for himself, because no one would trust him to help them.

Except now Wyll basically goes nowhere on his own, and a small army of people can attest that he got those horns and eyes as punishment for being a good man. Mizora might be able to shut his mouth, but she can't silence his friends - and the group absolutely have shouting sessions about everything. Wyll's horns become a battle scar, like his missing eye, and nothing more.

And beyond that, if you are playing as a heroic character, a significant throughline in the game's story is the journey of the tiefling refugees. The story makes it clear that these people experience a constant barrage of racism, due to their appearance and "demonic" heritage. It also makes it abundantly clear that this prejudice is entirely undeserved - they're just people, with virtues and flaws like everyone else, and what is happening to them is terrible. So Wyll turns up to assist a bunch of people whom he now at least somewhat resembles - and with Karlach along, you have two people in the group who technically count as "infernal", but haven't got an evil bone in either of their bodies.

Mizora created solidarity. Oops.

Wyll is deeply suspicious of gods and higher powers. He doesn't want to make more deals with devils. When Elminster arrives to tell Gale what Mystra demands of him, he explicitly says he does not do religion. When you get Mizora to agree to let his contract expire in six months, he starts by casually invoking the gods - but switches to thanking the player character instead, because he knows who helped, and who did not.

But he utterly refuses to regret the pact he made. That can be a struggle. He clearly misses his dad, and would like that relationship repaired. The fact that he was transformed very much against his will is clearly a source of distress from him.

But if he regrets, then Mizora wins. That's it. Game over. She gets what she wanted all along. So he doesn't.

The main companion characters all have this kind of problem, and naturally have different ways of dealing with it. You have characters like Shadowheart and Lae'zel, who were indoctrinated as children, or Gale, who was literally seduced by one of these nightmare deities - and with them you have to start out by convincing them they they were the wronged party in the first place.

But Wyll knows exactly what game he's playing, and he's been screaming defiance the whole time. It's just that, in his case, the "defiance" is grinning and carrying on every time Mizora inflicts some more bullshit on him.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 spoilers

[rauzagel]

So, was that a promise? Because my disappointment is immeasurable. Where's my date, Raphael? In case the player decides to take the devil's deal, Raphael should personally take you to the House of Hope to hand you the orphic hammer there. Maybe even offer to sell or lend you some of his legendary items to help defeat the brain, in exchange for some soul coins. This way he could work as a vendor figure, as it was (allegedly) originally intended. Visiting the house of hope as a friend should be the alternative to having to kill him, so we can roleplay that we're fulfilling the contract but still get to see this area of the game.

This is also when we should be able to get some steamy scenes with the real Raphael. It's canon that he takes guests to his boudoir. This should be the perfect opportunity to have his way with his "little mouse". Haarlep always just felt like the consolation price, which would be fine if the player decides to go the hostile route.

Oh well, I'm just dreaming.

#raphael baldur's gate 3 #raphael bg3 #house of hope #Raphael/Tav #Raphael x tav #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #raphael #this is a thirst post #my apologies

[thedomesticanthropologist]

Would you be willing to do an analysis on Karlach and how she seems to compartmentalize a lot of extreme feelings? Like she gives me the sense that that was how she coped in Avernus to stay alive and reduce the odds of exploitation by devils, but it's fascinating to see how fast she seems to shut down anything negative to the point that she disapproves of Tav/Durge questioning the ethics of using soul coins.

I haven't done the Karlach origin, so I may be missing some context or information. That being said LETS GOOOO 👏👏👏

Karlach has a reputation in fandom for being a cinnamon roll, but she is so much more than that. Her personality is really complex, and her history is full of decisions and actions that reflect her upbringing and the situations she was forced to survive. That history helped shape how she sees and responds to the world around her.

On Soul Coins: Soul Coins are small, coin-shaped objects forged of infernal iron into which a single mortal soul has been bound. They are used as currency in the Nine Hells, and can be used to power infernal engines such as the one in Karlach's chest

They contain an entire MORTAL SOUL. The full essence of a person, and once used in Karlachs engine, that persons soul is destroyed in a way that makes it irretrievable.

What does this mean? Can souls in coins be saved? Yes! From the forgotten realms wiki:

It was possible to release the soul within a soul coin. This could be achieved by casting an anti-curse spell, such as remove curse, on the coin. Once a soul was freed, the coin began rusting and was eventually destroyed. If the soul was of a good alignment, they were transported to the realm of their deity. If the soul was of an evil alignment, they were transported to the Styx and transformed into a lemure (dang yo lol)

Karlach sees the coins as a tool to enhance her power. If the player reminds her that soul is a person, she gets very angry and says she /knows/ that. She still believes that they should be used to juice her up. You can obtain quite a bit of disapproval from Karlach by questioning the use of the soul coins in Act 1.

Additionally, Karlach has unique dialogue with Mattis the tiefling child in the Last Light Inn. She essentially encourages the kids racket scheme, and if the player pipes up to say her advice isn't moral/ethical/a good suggestion, she has a strong disapproval and puts the PC in their place by saying you have NO RIGHT to intervene on her opinions of how a (poor, displaced) tiefling child should act to better their personal situation.

We are also aware that in her past, At some point Karlach lived in the city of Baldur's Gate in Faerûn, where she worked as personal bodyguard for Lord Enver Gortash. Personal bodyguard is key: this implies she was at his side, whenever he did whatever he was doing at the time. It is also stated that she "would do anything for him", and was betrayed by him. Her anger with him is based on what he put her through, and I do not believe she expresses anything about what he had her do while she was a bodyguard.

Karlach is not a "morally pure: character prior to Avernus, nor was she one during her time in Avernus, nor is she one when she escapes. The game never implies that she is.

However! What Karlach is is extremely loyal, and a SURVIVOR. She has the mentality of 'do what you need to do to survive', and she WILL do what she needs to do to survive. She came from a poor upbringing, she did the best she could with what she had, and now that she's escaped Avernus she wants to CELEBRATE and experience as much joy as possible before she burns up.

This makes her very sensitive to anything that might 'kill the vibe'. She doesn't want to face things like her impending death (she tries very hard to get you to stop talking about it) she doesn't want to question the coins, she doesn't want to deal with big moral questions when the bare bones of the situation are that that kid probably needs to be a thief in order to make it by, "morals" be damned.

Karlach went through hell. Literally. She was incredibly abused psychologically and physically and used as a weapon. She doesn't have the TIME to do anything other than be glad that she's not there anymore. She wants to smell the grass, drink the ale, laugh, love, make friends, enjoy as much as she can while she can. Is she a good person? I'd say so, yeah. But is she a paragon of virtue? No. She was never meant to be, nor was she ever given the opportunity to be.

She knows that reality is a lot harder and a lot more in your face than any higher 'ideals' that may be the best looking on paper. This may be an unpopular opinion as well, but I think if Gortash hadn't sold her, she very likely would have ended up on a path where she would happily do some pretty sketchy shit.

I'm not sure I'd say she compartmentalizes so much as actively chooses to avoid addressing things, to the point where it pisses her off if you try to push her. It's an avoidance of choice, maybe even a rationalization situation.

You do the best you can with the hand you're given. She always did. And now she's only got a few minutes left to enjoy what time she has, so... she does.

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 karlach #karlach cliffgate #karlach

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

puppet history is an educational puppet show wherein a fuzzy blue puppet tells different stories throughout history whilst quizzing two guests and awarding them jelly-bean related points so one of them can win the episode after a fun musical number related to the topic at hand.

puppet history is also about:

a time travelling puppet called the professor who went to puppet university and may or may not be called connie mcnasty

a bunch of puppets who the professor accidentally gave souls to while travelling through time including two gay oars, a mummified goose and a very sad coin

a genie that has been chasing the puppet through time because of said soul debacle

a season-long plan in which the genie sets up a fake party for all the puppets to attend so he can kill them all in the same place

god who isnt really a main player but he shows up to sing sometimes and needs to find a place for all of the dead puppets to go

the devil who also isnt really a main player but he did audition to host season five

jellybeans that have some form of magical properties related to the professor and turned garrick bernard into a puppet twice which is more of a footnote than anything else

a longstanding feud between the professor and ryan bergara that begins with ryan never winning and ends with ryan making a deal with a demon called asmodeus to win which leads to a t-rex eating the professor

the professor dying as of a result of being eaten by a t-rex but not really because the t-rex lay an egg that the professor hatched out of, but bigger

an evil (?) hologram of the professor who tricks the dead puppets into sending him back to fix everything related to the death of the professor and the puppets which happens at the funeral for the professor

another season long plan wherein holo-professor plans to skin ryan and wear his skin

estranged producer shane madej who stayed out of it when he saw that holo-professor had ryan tied up and also happens to look quite a lot like the genie

hope that helps with any confusion (:

#puppet history #puppet history spoilers #the professor #shane madej #ryan beraga #garrick bernard #watcher

[bhaalble]

While I'm on my script doctor shit: I want to talk about Karlach.

Karlach's not dealing with the same level of narrative neglect/hasty rewrite fingerprints that Wyll is. As a standalone entity, her arc works. I Am Not Immune To Weeping at the Post-Gortash Fight Scene etc etc. But it does feel oddly discordant with the other companion quests. Karlach doesn't really experience any moral evolution or make meaningful decisions. When we meet her she's a kindhearted friendly hero, and she will be that regardless of whether she dies in Faerun or goes back to Avernus. She's incredibly likeable while she does that, and I also don't want to come across like I think her writing is shallow. But in a game where all the companion quests follow a pretty intentional pattern regarding the cycle of abuse, it sticks out like a sore thumb to me that the resolution of the Gortash plot doesn't really impact her character arc one way or the other.

As always I feel compelled to point out that this isn't me going "actually she's secretly a bad person and the game won't admit it". This is more me attempting to mine some more in-depth conflict, using the existing arc as a template. With that in mind, these are the changes I would make:

-Make the use of Soul Coins MUCH MORE of a character point. With how much attention is drawn to acquiring these things for the first time and a special dialogue choice for whether or not you'll have her use them, it feels very much like a dropped thread that it doesn't really go anywhere storywise. Leveraged correctly I think this could've been the chance to show a crack in Karlach's persona. She's your big loveable attack dog who's been having the worst decade, yeah. But she's also a survivor, who's not only been deployed into an endless conflict but who also hasn't had a single person she can trust other than herself. I think you could make more of a thing about how the conditions she lived in in Avernus forced her to make her peace with occasionally stepping on other people, even some innocents, so she could live to fight another day. There's shades of this in some of her conversations with the tiefling refugees already, she mentions to Dammon that she felt like she couldn't really do anything for Elturel. Push into that guilt, and with it, that denial. Have ten years spent with devils maybe just maybe given her a slightly more removed view of the value of a life that isn't her own?

-Whether the player feeds her Soul Coins or not I think it should be specified by Dammon that her routine use of them during her time in Avernus has sped up her engine breakdown by putting it into almost permanent overdrive. Its a damnation of Zariel (who probably knew what the coins were doing, but didn't care) and a startling moment for Karlach, that there are consequences for being cavalier with the souls of others. High Approval Karlach either asks to stop taking them (if the player has been giving them) or thanks the player for encouraging her to hold off. Low Approval Karlach will ask to keep taking them on the grounds of "in for a penny in for a pound", arguing that they can't afford to lose the advantages the player has seen it gives them (if they have been giving them) or becoming frustrated that the player is judging her and what she's had to do to survive (if they haven't).

-Make the reveal that the Steel Watch run off infernal iron MUCH MORE emotional for Karlach, as she realizes she was an experimental run for Gortash to do this. Double down on this when the player discovers that they have corpses inside them (also, put this reveal before the Steel Watch foundry quest can be completed). Its both horrifying on a gut level to find out the stupid evil reason for all her suffering...but also she can't help but feel culpable for LIVING. If she hadn't been strong enough to survive it the experiment might've ended there. Its not true but it is one of the worst thoughts you can have when you've just found out you're going to die anyways.

-I would make the relationship between Karlach and Gortash much more mutual and much more (initially) positive relationship. Have him be genuinely glad to see her, genuinely impressed that she survived the hells. Its what he always liked about her, her grit, her ability to face down impossible odds and come out the victor. Compliments that would've made her happy back in the day and now feel like a punch to the gut. Its all build-up, though, to the Choice which will define Karlach's route.

-By virtue of his experiments Gortash has gotten very good at working with Infernal Iron. And he believes he can fix Karlach's heart, in exchange for her basically taking up a more elevated version of her old job. He could use a bodyguard powered by hellfire and with a strong understanding of devils. Its also, just good optics for his man of the people image to have his right hand be some outer city kid elevated to greatness. He makes a lot of promises in that moment: she won't die. She'll get a chance to have a LIFE back, but now a life with all the power and security she could ask for. More than that, they could change things in this city. Give its residents better lives, improve things for all the little Karlachs out there. And after that...who knows? The Hells might be ripe for some conquest back. Gods know they've both got old scores to settle

-She takes time to think about it, and talk with the player. In addition to all the other hang-ups she might have this is where the Steel Watch comes up again, with her feeling like she's poisoned by that knowledge. A player trying to persuade her into taking the deal can point out, in the end its not so different from soul coins. Why draw the line now. If this Persuasion check is passed she can note that at least they could afford to be choosier with their victims, putting the worst baddies to use for the protection of everyone. That wouldn't be so bad....would it?

-You meet Gortash for a final time. If persuaded by the player to not take the deal (or if left to choose for herself with High Approval) Karlach will kill him where he stands. His soul rises in the form of Bane's Chosen and you have a proper boss fight. If persuaded to take it (or left to her own devices on Low Approval) Karlach will take the deal. This will mean losing Karlach from the party (with the exception of the House of Hope mission where she will appear Jaheira style) as she will be busy protecting Gortash. The player gains custom armor from Gortash and an assembly of Steel Watchers they can summon in the Final Battle.

-If she doesn't take the deal her endings play out pretty similarly to how they do in canon, either dying or returning to Avernus. This time, however, its with a new lease on life (or death). She's gotten to choose to be better than the things that dropped her here. She's still scared, still angry. But she's also proven something to herself. That Zariel and Gortash and them were wrong about her, and that she is much more than the mindless weapon they wanted to turn her into.

-If she takes the deal it unlocks a new ending for Gortash. Rather than come to the Elder Brain himself he will instead give you his Netherstone as a show of good faith, trusting you to take the chance to subdue the Elder Brain for your mutual rule.

-If the Player subdues the Elder Brain you and Gortash move it back underground, pretending to have defeated it and using the fear created by the mind flayer outbreak to rule the populace. Karlach in the Epilogue talks to you about how the two of you are making massive moves in the city. She seems to be trying very hard to convince herself at least most of the changes are positive....from a certain point of view.

-If the Player destroys the Elder Brain, Gortash skips town and takes Karlach with him rather than face his disgrace. In the Epilogue Karlach says he's starting to rebuild in another city state, "not tellin you where, though. Don't really think I want to have to fight you if you decide to come smash this one too....even though I'd definitely win." She seems extremely worn down in this ending and trying to cover it up. Gortash lost a LOT of favor with Bane having his plans blow up in his face like that and its made him. Snippy. Still, "its a living. And it probably wouldn't even be that if it weren't for him." The player can hint that it may be time for her to start moving on to a better environment, and she says only if she can find someone to do a more permanent fix for Ol' Rusty. Gortash still has to do check-ups almost monthly to keep her stable.

-She still keeps in touch with Dammon, though....who knows. He might have some new thoughts after seeing all the blueprints Gortash has drawn up....

#sorry that this is six miles long but i have so many thoughts #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #karlach #enver gortash #script doctor tag #baldurs gate critical #long post

[moyashidoodles]

Tiny doodles of Pidge (my Tav) from act 1 and early act 2. Her hair changed for each act so it’s easy to tell where they are in their journey by how disheveled she looks.

Pidge is a wild magic sorcerer with an affinity for soul magic. She can see the color of others souls (I don’t consider this game breaking, but also it’s my brain baby so idc if that’s possible in the 5e rule set) there are some supplemental fan spells and materials for adding soul magic and flavor and there’s the soul knife subclass rogue which I think was a Critical Roll addition? Ugh, look at me spreading misinformation on the internet.

OC lore below the cut.

Content warning: abusive relationship discussion (parent and child), implied sexual and physical abuse.

Anyway, Pidge grew up Rapunzel like with a very controlling and narcissistic “mother knows best” mom. The only reason her mother even had a child was to be a “spare” body for when her mother succumbed to a fatal illness (and to help her mother transfer souls into soul coins and gems to be bartered in the 9 hells. Lots of devil’s work)

Pidge’s mother is controlling to the extent that Pidge was not allowed to learn anything about her wild magic and spent much of her life warded to keep her from accessing the weave. “For her own safety,” of course. The only magic she was allowed and praised for learning was soul magic, and this was to help her mother with her research into immortality and with business ventures.

Pidge was also used as “entertainment” for her mother’s important guests. Basically anything that her mother could get from Pidge, she would try to use to her benefit.

About 3-5months before the beginning of the game, Pidge escaped and crafted an amulet to protect her body and soul from being hijacked by her mother.

She is the only member of the bg3 origin crew who did not lose skills when she was infected by the tadpole. She didn’t really have skills to begin with. Much to Gale’s dismay, she learns basically on the fly and does a lot of “firebolt first, ask questions later.” To her, practical experience is much more important than book learning. Really she has adhd and can’t rote memorize for the life of her.

She identifies with Karlach early on as they both have had dealings with the hells, although Pidge is just beginning to understand the ramifications of her mother’s hellish business of soul coin forging.

Pidge is also very afraid in act 1 of Gale finding her out as she was told to keep her soul magic affinity secret by her mother. In truth the stigma for soul magic is not so bad, but it was a manipulation technique to keep Pidge from explaining to any magic practitioners what they were working on and how her mother planned to use the research to steal Pidge’s body.

Her mother is still hunting her down, so Pidge needs a permanent solution or soul barrier to keep herself from her mother “living vicariously” through her.

Bodily autonomy is stupid important to her. She rejects the Emperor the moment he tells her to “embrace her ilithid potential” for fear of losing herself. She is self conscious to the extreme and keeps notes on her newfound companions likes and dislikes so she can keep them happy. She had a legitimate panic attack when both Gale and Astarion wanted the necromancy of Thay because, according to her calculations, they would disapprove if the other was the recipient.

She fell for Astarion after rather disliking him for a good ten day or two. He won her over by being actually reliable in scrapes and being really funny. She can’t remember the last time anyone made her laugh, so she loves the feeling. They are the two smooth brained members of the group. Similar brain cell count.

This ended up being a lot longer than I thought it would be. If you made it to the end, then you will have made it to the end! *salutes in Barcus Wroot*

#my art #art #sketches #doodles #fanart #bg3 #illustration #wip #dungeons and dragons #pidge #bg3 tav #Tav #astarion #astarion x tav #bg3 astarion #dumb stuff #baldurs gate 3 #video game #OC lore #no one asked for this #and yet I have provided #cw: abuse #cw: implied abuse

[buckets-and-trees]

I read a lot of incredible fics in 2023, but these were the ones that blew me away beyond anything:

ASPEN'S FAVORITE READS 2023

Ted Lasso x Reader

Victory Lap by @ozarkthedog

Max Burnett x Reader x Nick Fowler

The Truth Will Set You Free and Reluctant by @navybrat817/Navy

Andy Barber & Ari Levinson & Ransom Drysdale & Nick Fowler & Steve Kemp x Female Reader

Giving Your Body and Soul to the Warlocks by @witchywithwhiskey

Nick Fowler x Reader

Home is a Heavy Heart by @sunshinebuckybarnes Partners in Crime by Navy Anew by Elsie Taking Care by @nickfowlerrr Clockwork AU by @sgt-seabass (plus many other characters) Sweet and Stained by @biteofcherry/Eva See Through You by Navy

Ari Levinson x Reader

Sweet Thrill by Navy Good With All Three by @blackleatherjacketz Down Again by Navy In a Field of Wildflowers with Ari by Eva Bartender FWB Ari series by @ghotifishreads +can we keep moving in the after hours? +domestic husband+Jukebox Jonesing+horny Monday to pining+make outs and more Yours to Have by Eva

M'Baku x Reader

From On High @boxofbonesfic

Curtis Everett x Reader

Sacred Hunt by Navy Branded by @stargazingfangirl18 Fulfilled by @stargazingfangirl18 The Fabric of Your Flesh by @ghotifishreads

Natasha Romanov x Bucky Barnes

Over and Over and Over Again by @drabbles-mc

Steve Rogers x Reader

Heat Inducing by Navy Make the Dust Fly by Eva A Deal with the Devil Comes with Wicked Strings by Molly Touch the Darkness by Eva A Shelter in the Storm by Molly Captain America's Sweetheart by @vonalyn And All Was Lost by Molly

Stucky

Timeless Desires by @smutconnoisseur

Stucky x Reader

A Monster, A Captain, and A Soldier by Molly

Bucky Barnes x Reader

To the Rescue by @ghostofskywalker Shatter by Navy Hot Girl Shit by @awake-dearheart You Don't Own Me by @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky Send Me an Angel by Navy Tired Eyes by @lovelybarnes Bring Your Wife to Work Day by Elsie My Queen by @adrinktostopyourthirst Single Mom Reader by @buckyalpine Two Sides of the Same Coin by Navy Alcohol You Later by @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky Hellfire, Take My Soul by @rookthorne A Tide of War and Broken Dreams by @sgt-seabass Metal Arm Kink by @adrinktostopyourthirst Lachrymose by @rookthorne Soft/Emotive Sex with Bucky by @adrinktostopyourthirst Warrior/Worrier by @delaber The Pineapple Contract by @buckyismybicycle Bucky with a virgin reader by Eva You Belong to Me, I Belong to You series by Molly drabble by @vonalyn Rooted in Love by @jobean12-blog Love in Bloom by Jo That's the Way Love Goes by Jo Unbound by You by @vonalyn Codename: Lazarus series by @sagechanoafterdark Halloween is the Perfect Time for Tricks–and Treats by Molly Missing You by @nickfowlerrr

#fic recommendation #fic rec list

[blueberrymffn]

A fic for @the-centennial-husbands-bigbang I had the pleasure of working with @temporary-lover for the art on this fic! Pairing: Dream/Hob

Rating: E Word Count: 48k Tags: Friends to Lovers, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Soul Marks, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Eventual Happy Ending, Hob Gadling POV, Soul Mates.

Read On Ao3 or Dreamwidth Summary:

When Hob Gadling made a drunken deal with a mysterious man in a pub, he didn’t expect anything to come of it. Waking up the following morning with a golden mark on his wrist was a shock, though less than finding out that he couldn’t die. Who had he made a deal with, and what did he want? His Stranger was far from forthcoming, so he’d have to figure it out himself. That his mark was not just a passkey to an underworld of supernatural beings but the sign that he wasn’t meant to spend eternity alone was enough to send him down paths he never knew existed and ask more questions than were answered. Who, or more importantly what was his Stranger, and did the mysterious man know who Hob was destined for?

(An AU where only immortals have soulmarks that mark their species/type as well as their partner, and Hob has something no one has seen before) Chapter 1 below

When Hob Gadling had woken up, hungover and sore, sleeping in the straw of the White Horse’s stable he had thought nothing of it, save that he’d drunk through all his coin again, or his friends had. The memories of the night were slow enough to return, but the central focus of them had been the mysterious lord who had taken his boasting and jest with great seriousness. The man hadn’t batted an eye when he’d promised to meet him 1489, as if it were entirely normal. A fool, clearly, as most of the gentry were, or having him on. It didn’t matter, in any case. They’d both be in the ground by then, try as he might to avoid it.

It wasn’t until hours later, having bartered a ride on the back of an ox cart headed toward his family’s stead, that he noticed the mark on his wrist - and only then because it glinted in the sun. He squinted against the brightness, turning his arm so the mark was in shadow. The thin skin over the veins of his left wrist now bore a strange, twisted mark that he couldn’t identify. He thought perhaps it was a letter, one he didn’t recognise - not like any brand for thieving or darker deeds, and in the wrong place besides. Plus it didn’t hurt; it looked painted on, like gold accents in church art. Scratching at it had no effect whatsoever, though he tried more than once during the hours in the cart.

Not until the glint of it in the flam of a candle caught his eye again at home that evening did he put this strange design and the strange lord together as a possibility. Had he sworn some service to the man that he was too drunk to remember, was this a mark of a bondsman, somehow wrought in gold? Had the man somehow been serious about meeting again?

Had he even been a man at all, and did he now bear the devil’s mark?

Sleep came uneasily that night and for many more after. Hob took to tying a strip of fabric around his wrist to hide the mark but in the course of heavy labour it dislodged often enough. He needn’t have worried; long hours spent in the sun tanned his skin and bronzed the strange little sigil until its glittering dimmed and none would look askance at it, if ever they noticed it was even there.

In time he forgot about it entirely, until one sleepless night somewhere in France in the stinking war camp of an idiot king, he realised with a start that he’d been to and from this war for far too long. The way the mind wandered when sleep threatened illuminated many things, and he thought about the young man who’d been rationing out bread. Familiar, he was, so Hob had asked his name and the lad gave it and his town. At the time it had meant nothing, his mind had accepted that knowledge without incident until now when he realised that the John Hooper who’d come all the way from Ipswich to sell his sword had looked like that… decades ago.

Somehow the understanding that the strange lord had not spoken in jest did not feel like a sudden recognition, rather something to which Hob’s innermost self simply reacted with ‘well, that does explain a few things’.

That devil’s mark protected him through to the end of the Hundred Years’ War.

Luckily in the times that followed, the fashions of the day hid the golden mark from the world. It was for his eyes only; a gift from the stranger he had now seen thrice and of whom he knew little more than at the start. Hob had stopped thinking of it as a mark of Satan, as the devil itself seemed a strange concept when you were immortal. What threat was damnation when you’d never pass under the earth? Fae then, perhaps, or some god or power he did not yet understand. It mattered not, and was a constant reminder in the mornings when he dressed of how immensely lucky he was.

Until he was not.

London never seemed so positively dreary and constantly sopping wet when Hob had seen it all from the inside of a carriage. He had looked down these narrow, dark alleys with disdain from his high horse and gave no thought to those that scrabbled for their very existence amongst society's dregs. Would that he had known of their plight, done something for them, when he was a man of means. It was difficult to see how he ever could be again, having pawned the last of his precious belongings, stolen from the Gadlen estate, nearly a year ago. The warm cloak he had bought with that money had been stolen from him by two young, strong lads not a fortnight past. Tonight it would have been a blessing.

Hob was soaked to the bone, curled up with his knees to his chest against a brick wall that seemed warmer than others that he’d made his bed against these last few years. A kitchen was on its other side, or a good hot fireplace. Oh what he would give for mere moments beside a crackling fire - but he had nothing left to give. No one on this street had, they only clustered here because the overhanging roofs above the alley offered some small semblance of shelter from the downpours of this most rainy summer.

Sharp, angry voice hollered from where the alley met a larger way, echoing on the stone and brick but not going far through the dampness of the air. Drunkards, seeking a short way home. Brave ones, to walk where angels feared to tread. He heard laughter, closer, and then the panicked begging of a man he knew by voice more than sight; old Nathaniel was mad as a hatter and twice as daft. His unintelligible protests ended in a strangled cry, followed by silence broken only by the pattering rain. Then footsteps, coming closer.

There was hardly any light in the alley, most of the moon’s glow dampened and bare candles near windows did not much at all. Even so the darkness became darker still as two men emerged from the gloom, looming over him. Fighter though he had long been, Hob hadn’t eaten in four days, drunk clean water in half again as many, and even the idea of trying to fight off robbers or murderers or drunkards looking for sport filled him with a bone-deep weariness and a deeper apathy.

One of the men forcibly hauled him up by front of his ratty, soaking wet shirt and hissed something to his compatriot in a language Hob didn’t understand. The other man laughed and Hob belayed whatever action the start of his movement implied by raising his hands to cover his face. He’d been beaten before for what he now was, he could take it again, but he had half a mind to keep his face intact.

The second man gasped and said something to his fellow in a hushed tone. He grabbed Hob’s forearm with a grip like iron that made him gasp and held him up, high enough to strain his shoulder. They conferred together for a moment and then simply released him, dropping him back to the ground and hurrying on their way.

Hob collapsed back against the wall, panting in relief, and felt over his arm for signs of a break. There were none, his bones seemed sturdy enough, but the flesh was tender and already bruising though he couldn’t see it in the dark. He could see the sigil on his wrist, however, visible to the naked eye despite the gloom even though it bore nothing so sinister as a light of its own. Had they seen it? More intriguingly, had they known it?”

Questions kept him up until morning came and with it a stop to the rain. Hob gathered himself up to head off and seek food, or work, or anything really besides sitting alone with his sorrows. A new place to sleep was paramount, as this one was no longer safe. Mad Nathaniel’s old, skinny body was discarded on the cobbles near the mouth of the alley, his face unnaturally pale with more than death although signs of blood or injury had long since washed away in the night. There was nothing he could do for the man except ponder the nature of mortality, and the value of his gift.

Hob spent weeks trying to find work to no avail, too weak for manual labour and none believing him when he spoke desperately of education or skills. The night of his meeting with the stranger approached steadily and in this year of 1689 the White Horse was no tawdry establishment; it boasted fine foods and foreign wines for finer, foreign guests. It was no tavern where a homeless lout could buy a penny ale. His only hope was to catch his stranger outside and, failing that, sneak in through the kitchens.

He had not expected his stranger to stand up for him, to command that he be unhanded and allowed to stay. The coldness in the mysterious man’s eyes seemed to have settled into something less distant even as he listened to Hob’s tale of woe with similar detachment as always. Nonetheless, every time a barmaid passed by he raised his hand and politely asked for more food for his guest. 

Their meeting was over as swiftly as ever and with it the warmth and safety of a roof over Hob’s head for the first time in near thirty years. He stood as his stranger did and made to follow, to slink back out into the darkness. The stranger stopped him, grabbing his wrist and pushing him back into his seat with a strength Hob had not expected from the lithe, little man.

“You will stay, and recover. None will assail you,” he said curtly, “Dream well tonight, Hob Gadling.”

Then he was gone, and Hob sat in abject confusion. His wrist ached like he’d been stung by a bee and he wondered perhaps if some strange magic had passed between them, from his stranger to that strange mark. It occupied his thoughts until the barmaid returned with a pasty and another mug of ale. She seemed to look right through him although her words were polite and serviceable enough. So he stayed, until the crowd thinned and the innkeepers began cleaning up around him. The same woman who still seemed to look over his shoulder at nothing bid him follow and, to his astonishment, showed him to room above without question of payment. Hob was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, no matter how mysterious, and he learned again two of life’s simplest pleasures; a hot bath and a good night’s rest.

He resolved to ask his stranger by what means he had arranged such courtesies when next they met. As years passed he became ever more thankful for them. Something so simple as clothes washed and a good shave had opened the opportunity again for hiring, allowed him the ability to rise back up from the mud and put all that he had learned before to work rebuilding his life and better planning for the future.

It also granted him the gift of boldness for their next meeting. Hob was centuries old, he should by now be so inured to life that the ghostly memory of the stranger’s touch on his wrist did not drive him to madness in the dark and quiet moments before sleep. Yet it did. Nearly every night, it did, and when he was alone and not dressed to the standard of the day he would roll up his sleeve and stare at the golden sigil on his wrist. The nature of it still eluded him, save that it was something of a protection, or luck - maybe it was the source of his immortality itself. Yet another question to ask of his mysterious stranger.

As all good plans of men, his machinations had swiftly gone awry. Hob left the White Horse with all due haste after the confrontation with Lady Johanna’s men, quick on the heels of his stranger who had said neither yes nor no to finding a new venue. Their banter had never had chance to give way to his tales of the century, or anything deeper. So many questions still unanswered in a meeting cut short to minutes rather than hours. That could not be all he had for a century, it couldn’t. Yet when he exited the tavern mere seconds after his stranger, the man in black was nowhere to be found.

He cursed a string of oaths so foul and befuddled by lifetimes of vocabulary as to make a sailor blush in any century. 

But he was not one to be deterred by hardship, not by a long shot, and the stranger’s words as always weighed heavily on his mind. All of them had, both of a personal nature and not. Liquidating his assets in the shipping business was one matter and more than a handful of his peers thought he’d gone mad - perhaps he had, but not for the reasons they presumed. If his stranger would deign to give him advice, he would by all means take it. If his stranger would bid him take caution, he most certainly would do just that.

Having Lady Constantine investigated was a simple matter when one had the means. Both would-be detectives and scoundrels were easily hired in scads about London these days and he had the money to invest in both quantity and quality. Hers was a storied family it seemed, if troubled, and Lady Johanna was the most vicious of the lot in generations, if rumours held a grain of truth.

Hob had long since sought to ignore the supernatural, a fool’s errand for an immortal, perhaps - but barest hint of witchcraft about him had him tied to a millstone and breathing pond water for days. That amorphous time until he became used to the suffering, the fading into nothingness and rising to awareness over and over, enough to shred the rope upon the stone between deaths was as real to him now as it had been over a century ago - enough so he had never taken to sea on any of his own ships, nor crossed the channel recently, and the very memory brought a cold chill with it. Such things were enough to dull a man’s interest in what lay beyond the mortal realm.

Now it seemed the realm of witches and witch-hunters had come for him.

That was how he had found himself in the plainest clothes he owned in a disreputable area where he was still well-dressed enough to catch the eyes of those he’d rather not. Being shanked in a dark alley was not in his plans for the day but seeming more and more likely by the moment. 

His surveillance upon Lady Johanna and her cohorts had lead him to several strange places and stranger people; a madwoman who crowed about gods and demons but nonetheless knew more than she let on, a vicar who swore upon all that was holy that angels existed and he had witnessed the glory of god - of little use, in the end. Lastly, a man who sold goods he claimed were not of this world and asked for ephemeral things in exchange; concepts and thoughts and hopes for the future. Hob gave him nothing but his time for asking questions, as time was something of which he had no shortage.

In the end it had been Lady Johanna himself who had led him where he needed to go; a storefront that looked surprisingly well-kept for the area but equally well shuttered. His spy had assured him here was no password or secret sign. The Lady Johanna had merely knocked and been let in with hushed words and secretive looks, and all other comers had been passing strange as the urchin had put it. Hob had passed it a few times since, he was nothing if not patience, and never seen anyone about the place - it looked like no one had done business here for years, but then so did the entire street. If rumours were true, this was the centre of all occult practice in London. Hob would have thought they could do much better.

The third time was the charm and he had finally worked up his nerve to knock upon the heavy oaken door. It seemed to dampen the noise enough he hardly thought he’d been heard and was about to try again when the metallic dragging noise of a deadbolt sounded from anon and the door creeped open a hand’s span, held to the jam by a heavy bronze chain to keep it from opening wider. Whoever stood beyond, a proprietor perhaps, remained to the side of the door out of view and it took every fibre of Hob’s being not to lean in and try to catch a glimpse of them.

“Your hand, sir,” A woman’s voice said sharply from within.

He hesitated only a moment, before reaching his right hand in to the open space as if to shake hands with the woman. That earned him an exasperated noise in response.

“Your other hand, numbskull,” she snapped.

Hob, chastened and feeling entirely out of his element, offered the other hand instead. It was grabbed from within the shadows and his sleeve pulled up to bare the wrist. The mark on his skin had faded with the genteel and indoor nature of his work these days and stood golden and glimmering against paler flesh than usual. 

The woman made a soft hum as if she were considering what she saw. “Well that is a strange one indeed,” she said and, with no further warning, dashed a tiny silver blade across his wrist. 

It wasn’t deep enough to hurt and hardly drew blood, no deeper than a papercut, but he yanked his hand back in shock. 

“Bloody hell, are you out of your mind?” he exclaimed, yanking the cuff of his sleeve down.

“Can’t be too careful these days. Come through, then,” she replied, nearly closing the door so she could unhook the chain to let him in. 

The door was bolted and barred behind him which was none too comforting. Inside the shop belied its exterior entirely. It was not well-lit but was well-appointed with cases of curios and weapons that would not be out of place at the British Museum among the pharaonic masks. Part drawing room, part exhibit hall the place was immaculate and high-ceilinged - the floor above having been gutted for height and left with only a narrow balcony encircling the edges of the room. He was the only one there.

A sharp throat clearing noise brought his attention back to his erstwhile host. She was younger than he had expected; plump and dour and none too impressed with his existence. Her clothing was far more rich than the neighbourhood outside would imply, but he figured now little here was as it seemed.

“What are ya, then?” she asked, the lilt of her accent catching him off guard now; it had shifted to something older that he hadn’t heard in a good minute. Or century, perhaps.

“Uh… Name’s Robert,” he answered - stupidly, he realised, even as he said it and she gave him a nonplussed look.

“Nay. I mean, what are you,” she replied, “Your blood’s wrong, but the mark’s real.”

“I beg your pardon?” Now he was really feeling out of his depth.

“What turned you, and sent you here,” she said slowly, like he was a bit daft and he was starting to think he might be, “Cause it’s not a vampire, or a wolf, and your sigil doesn’t have traits of anything I bloody know.”

“No one sent me, I uhm… I found you through a mutual acquaintance, as it were,” he replied, trying to regain some of his composure and deciding not to name drop the Lady Johanna in case the two were friends, or something worse.

“Ah, so… You’re new, and you have no bloody idea. Wonderful,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest, “I’m Marie LaFontaine, and I’m not fucking French.”

“I didn’t think you were,” Hob said, eyeing her curiously. It had taken a moment but he had placed the accent and it shouldn’t have surprised him as much as it did, given the strange words that had so recently come out of her mouth. “York, mid-1500s?”

Marie’s obvious appraisal of him grew in consideration at that. “So you’re older than you look, then,” she replied, nodding her head.

“Much.”

“And you’ve just now decided to drop by?” she asked, “Must be nice.”

“It has been, sometimes, yes. Sometimes, not so much,” Hob replied with a smirk, starting to enjoy this little back and forth now that he was reasonably certain he was not going to be shanked in an alley or anything else even cruder. By this point in his life he was at the very least a good judge of people.

“Why seek us out now, if it’s going so well sometimes,” she said dryly.

“Because I was… accosted, as it were, by some sort of witch-hunter,” Hob replied, feeling it was best to leave his stranger out of it, “So I have been looking for answers, of a sort. Or at least information on such things. I have no desire to be caught in a jar and studied like a bug.”

“Man after my own heart,” she said, leaning back against a long counter that looked equal parts apothecary and bar top, “Constantine?”

“You know her?”

“Yes, she hardly knows me,” Marie replied, “And I like to keep it that way; Constantines have been a thorn in our side for centuries, for some more than others.”

“Right. You keep saying ‘our’ and I fear I really don’t know who you are,” Hob admitted, “Pretend like I am new, and just sent to you, like you thought; and explain to me as such. You… you knew what my mark was.”

“Well, I don’t know what your mark is,” Marie corrected him, “Bit singular, that. Usually they’ve got a signature to them that’ll at least tell me what you’re meant for, you know, angelic, demonic, fae, vampire, they’ve all got their little quirks.”

“I apologise, meant for?” Hob asked, blinking rather stupidly at her while simultaneously annoyed by her nonchalance. 

Clearly she had the answers to questions he had pondered for millennia and they were so simple to her that she had no idea how to break the concept down for the uninitiated. The result was like pulling teeth.

“It’s your soulmark, idiot. You weren’t born immortal, were you?” she asked, and it sounded more like an accusation.

“No.”

“Then that cropped up one day, and you just never questioned what it was for?”

“Of course I questioned it, but I can ask myself in the mirror all I want and it won’t give me the bloody answers!” Hob snapped, exasperated by the back and forth.

“Whoever turned you is a right prick.”

“Yes, well… He’s a bit of an odd duck,” Hob said, rubbing sheepishly at the back of his neck. Somehow her calm answer made him feel even more of a mess, but he wasn’t about to apologise for snapping at her. “Are you going to tell me what it’s for?”

“Well, practically speaking; gets you in where mortals fear to tread. They can’t be proper faked, you see,” she said, “Show it to another of our kind and the old laws say to help you, or at the very least they can’t hurt you.”

Hob thought then back over a century to a night spent shivering in the rain, and those men he’d thought drunken youths. They had backed off, upon seeing his arm. The beggar man, whose name he misremembered now, had not been so lucky. Had they been immortals too? Hunting for something perhaps, if what Marie hinted at was true and there really were vampires or demons or god knew what skulking about London after dark.

“So others, like us… they’d show mercy on seeing it?” he asked curiously, “Stop what they were doing.”

She raised an eyebrow at him and he did not grant the unspoken request for details. It was long enough ago that he had none, in any case. Immortality had not granted him the ability to see in the dark; he wouldn’t have been able to describe the men even the morning after.

“They certainly should,” Marie answered, “Especially if they don’t recognise the mark; if you were bound to some house they had quarrel with, perhaps not.”

“Bound?” he asked, automatically looking down at his wrist, “I’m not bound to anything, that I know of that is.” His stranger had always made it very clear that it was Hob’s choice to live, and nothing more.

“More’s the pity, I hope you find them,” Marie replied, pushing off from the counter to head around behind it. She drew out a rolled up piece of what looked like parchment, tied with twine, from beneath it and rolled it out on the counter. “Come on then, I don’t bite.”

Hob approached and looked down at the scroll. Whatever it was he had expected, it wasn’t a map of London - and seemingly an updated one at that.

“Take a proper gander, memorise the red marks. Those are all places your mark gains you admittance, and aid if you seek it, with the promise that you’d do the same,” she said, glancing up at his face, “Maybe you’ll find your match there if you look around a bit.”

“My match?” he asked, focused intently on the map. He was a fair hand at memorising things, but it was a lot.

“Aye, do you really think you’ll face the slings and arrows of this world alone for eternity?” Marie asked incredulously, “None could. Someone out there has a mark like yours, or at least something like it. You’ll know it when you see it, or when they touch you.”

“Right…” Hob said slowly, nodding as if what she had said wasn’t completely insane, “And they’re meant to be what, exactly?”

Marie now clearly thought he was an idiot, and likely unworthy of his immortality, if the look she were giving him was any indication. She gave a longsuffering sigh and began rolling the map back up despite him having hardly gotten a look at it, but he knew a few of the red marks and committed them to memory - the one by King’s Cross was, he was reasonably certain, a rather exclusive gentleman’s club that never solicited new members. Apparently this was why; it was full of… of what? Immortals? He couldn’t imagine that everyone was like him, human and a bit blessed with longevity, because now every rumour and old wive’s tale of vampires, werewolves, and the bloody fae were crowding in his mind.

“Your soulmate, of a sort,” she said eventually once she realised he wasn’t just having her on and was legitimately out of his depth, “Usually romantic, sometimes not - more’s the pity for them folks, then.”

“Ah… Would’ve liked to know that a few centuries back,” he replied, those rumours and tales pushed out of his mind immediately by the thought of Eleanor, and their son.

“Yes, well, like I said; whoever as turned you is a right prick.”

“Or maybe, maybe he’s simply not around much?” Hob offered, unsure if he was on to something there or if he was going to sound like a numpty again, “I only see him every hundred years and he wants to know about… society, I suppose. Is there somewhere else he could be?”

“Aye, could be a fae save that your mark isn’t any of the high courts. A demon, but your mark isn’t that either,” Marie replied with a shrug, “There’s probably other things, but I’m no scholar. Look, we got a vested interest in protectin’ our own. Politics are a bit shite and all, but you made it this long you’ve got some sense. Muck about a bit, you might find someone as knows more than me. Doubt it, though.”

“A glowing recommendation of your own superiority,” Hob said dryly, some measure of wits returning to him at last as things began to slot into place in his worldview.

“Indeed. You know where to find me.” Hob knew a dismissal when he heard one, but hadn’t been given one that felt so final since Queen Elizabeth last sent him from court. With a jaunty wave, he slipped out of the building and couldn’t help but look over his shoulder as he took a circuitous route through the disreputable part of town. The world had grown quite a lot larger all of the sudden and with so many unknowns swirling about it, his security in his own safety was a bit shaken. His stranger, his maker, he corrected himself with the now more appropriate term had been very clear ‘you can be hurt, or captured’. It had seemed long odds when he was one man dithering about and becoming his own son but with a whole secret society, or underbelly of London, full of those like himself, perhaps exponentially older than himself, he had bigger things than the Constantines to worry about.

Read more on Ao3

#centennial husbands #sandman #sandman fanfic #my fic #dreamling #centennial husbands big bang #the centennial husbands big bang #centennialhusbandsbigbang2024

[preternaturalpanic]

I have a crack headcanon that Raphael is aware of this plane and has a deal with other devils for soul coins every time someone misspells Haarlep as Harleep and Korrilla as Korilla. He's loaded because of us and it's one of the reasons he's fine spending 1000 to take down a wayward mouse.

#bg3 raphael #bg3 haarlep #bg3 korrilla #honestly that harLEEP guy gets around more than Haarlep does #crack post

[taggedmemes]

SENTENCE MEME BALDUR'S GATE 3 / PART THREE

i heard what happened.

thank you for protecting the child.

we can risk violence here or face it for certain on the road.

a low thought, but i'd be lying if i said i hadn't considered it.

i'm not some murderer for hire.

to get these people to safety, there's nothing i won't do.

if your people survived that, they'll survive anything.

it's unusual for them to organize so cleverly.

you're equal to the task.

try not to keel over with the first blade drawn.

might not look it, but we're tough.

there's optimism and then there's stupid.

how are you going to take my gold if you're dead?

just leave the gold on my corpse.

i wish we could at least give them a proper burial.

gold ain't any use if you're too cold to spend it.

you're giving up?

you should leave it, or destroy it.

at best it's worthless. at worst, who knows.

do not trifle with that moon witch or her trinkets.

only trouble will follow.

we've enough troubles and burdens as it is.

perhaps you can sell that for a couple of coins.

i should pluck your eyes out.

a cursed book? how obvious.

this quarrel sours our feast.

be you friend or food?

am i not astonishing?

i am by all accounts a student of higher commerce and extortion.

it's not what it looks like, i swear.

i wasn't going to hurt you.

i can't believe i didn't see it.

i'm not some monster.

why didn't you tell me?

i needed you to trust me.

you can trust me.

do you think you could trust me just a little further?

let's make ourselves comfortable, shall we?

i was just swept up in the moment.

i'm looking forward to seeing you fight.

you're invigorating, but i need something more filling.

this is a gift, you know. i won't forget it.

good morning. how do you feel?

i just feel a little woozy.

i thought you'd be more powerful.

someone, or something, wants me alive.

as for my other quirks — well, we can figure those out in time.

i'm just glad you're being sensible about these revelations.

i was worried people might turn up with torches and pitchforks.

that explains the pallor.

we're each monsters in the making.

i taste absolutely awful.

we need him, like it or not.

we're bound together, no matter what comes.

you say all the right words, but i'm not so sure you mean the right things.

i will respect the decision that was made.

we're all friends again.

there's a long day ahead of us.

what a manner of place is this?

is this a path to redemption or a road to damnation?

your journey is just beginning.

what would suit the occasion?

i am [name], very much at your service.

if you want to threaten me, don't disguise it.

you're paranoid, aren't you.

must be the surroundings.

rather bleak and lonesome, one feels so exposed.

this quaint little scene is decidedly too middle-of-nowhere for me.

enjoy your supper. after all, i might be your last.

are these theatrics leading somewhere?

are you not entertained?

far be it from me to disappoint.

how dear is one's soul?

you're made if you think i'll make a deal with a devil.

what is madness but a denial of reality?

exhaust every possibility until none are left.

when hope has been whittled down to the very marrow of despair, that's when you'll come knocking on my door.

i'll have the last laugh in the end.

one might say you're a paragon of luck.

i've something important to discuss with you.

we've been travelling together for a while now and it's just about time that i shared something with you.

are you telling me you're addicted to magic?

i would not burden anyone other than myself with this were the stakes not so high.

if not out of the simple goodness of your heart, then perhaps your own self-interest might be sufficient motivation.

please, trust me.

your help could be the difference between life and death.

i'm afraid that's not going to work on me.

let us agree on actions first and explanations later.

i didn't come seeking battle.

you're different than the others, i can tell.

i'm afraid proper thanks must wait.

your boldness is a blessing.

it takes more than mere fire to break me.

i must ask again for your aid.

why entrust this to me?

i know him better than most.

i'm not interested in your lineage.

you shouldn't keep secrets like this from me.

he named me friend, and that meant the world.

they're a powerful friend with a keen interest in privacy.

i'm sworn to say no more.

i spent more time dueling than rubbing elbows with lords.

not to say i didn't develop a taste for good win and a talent for courtly dance.

it's been a badger's age since i've twinkled my toes.

a drunk ogre could put on a better show.

we can learn a lot from fairytales, don't you think?

he'll require of you only what you're least ready to part with, and then require more still.

the devil won't take just anything, he'll take everything.

that is a story reserved for lifetime friends and calmer days.

i question the wisdom in that decision but so be it.

there's no way you could have known.

i doubt a fight against them would go your way.

seems you have good survival instincts.

i go my own way — alone.

#rp sentence meme #sentence meme #sentence prompts #sentence starters #starter sentences #rp memes #rpc #memes

[writingwithcolor]

Using Jinn /Djinn vs Genie in story

Anonymous asked:

Hello!

I want to write a story where the main character unknowingly makes a wish, the wish granter well-intendedly grants it, but the MC lives to regret the wish. (Note: MC isn't Muslim I learned Islam and Magic are not compatible from other posts)

From what I've researched it seems that wishes granted by Jinn are more like deals with the devil. The wish is granted in exchange for a piece of your soul. I want the exchange to be more like the Genie from Aladdin.

Should I use the term Genie? I think this would make it clear that the character is abiding by western genie abilities/limitations, and I thought it would distinguish that I'm not referencing real life Jinn. Would a Genie be seen as a completely separate mythical creature or would the concept of a Genie just feel like a culturally appropriated Jinn to Muslim readers?

Furthermore, would it be appropriate if the genie appear as an Arab person to acknowledge the cultural roots? Would this be considered good representation or is that harmful? Would it be okay or better to subvert the trope and make them another ethnicity?

Please be blunt and tell me if I should think of another way to accomplish the wish fulfillment!

Thank you for your time

Note: Niki isn’t Muslim and is speaking on the topic of cultural appropriation only. 

You want your story to feature a wish-granting character, and you want to base this character on the Genie character in Disney’s Aladdin in order to avoid appropriating Arab/Muslim jinn. Here’s the issue: the Genie in Disney’s Aladdin is already an appropriation of jinn.

The word “genie” is an anglicization of the word “jinni” (جني) which is the singular form of “jinn” (جن). It was coined by Antoine Galland when he translated The Thousand and One Nights from Arabic to French in the early 18th century*. The Thousand and One Nights, a collection of mostly Arab and Muslim folk tales, quickly gained in popularity in Europe and was re-translated, back-translated, retold and adapted multiples times over the next couple of centuries. Disney’s Aladdin is probably the best-known of those retellings, and it certainly did a lot to popularize genies in Western media.

But despite having been absorbed into Western popular culture, genies remain firmly associated with orientalist stereotypes and are frequently portrayed with vaguely “oriental” characteristics. For example, in Neil Gaiman’s October Tale, the genie first appears wearing a turban and “pointy shoes.” Genies may feel like a part of Western mythos by now, but they clearly retain cultural markers that tie them to their origins.

In my opinion, calling your character a genie to avoid having to deal with the cultural and religious context surrounding jinn is not an appropriate solution to your problem. 

You have two options:

1) Call your character a jinni

Call your character a jinni and do your best to portray them as accurately as possible to their culture of origin. 

This includes faithfulness to the way jinn are portrayed in Islam, and specificity to the national or ethnic group you’re drawing on, as there are variations in different cultures. 

You will need to do quite a bit of in-depth research to ensure your portrayal is respectful, accurate, and doesn’t rely on orientalist tropes. 

You will also probably need to give thought to the context surrounding the jinni’s presence in your story. 

How did they get here? 

What circumstances led your human character to encountering them? 

And what are the implications for the backstory and future of your characters and world?

2) Alternatively, call them something else entirely

Alternatively, if you would like to have the freedom to use this character as you please, call them something else entirely. There are plenty of wish-granting beings in Western folk tales and mythologies that you could use instead.

Caveat: I’m not Muslim and would strongly recommend seeking out additional advice from Muslim sources if you decide to go with option 1 and portray jinn in your story. You can start by reading the posts by our Muslim mods on this topic: Djinn tag on WWC

- Niki

*A note on The Thousand and One Nights: Antoine Galland’s translation took many liberties with the source material, interpreting and altering some stories, and adding several others which weren’t part of the original Arabic manuscript. Aladdin’s Lamp is one of them. It is believed that these additional stories were written by the Syrian writer Hanna Diyab, who shared them with Galland when they met in Paris. Galland included them in his published work without crediting Diyab.

#Djinn #Islam #cultural appropriation #Arab #supernatural beings #asks

[cloaksandcapes]

We had a viewer in our Twitch chat who wanted something for her DnD campaign that was similar to the Soul Coins in Baldur's Gate 3, but that had some connection to eyes. We are always happy to deliver!

Soul Eye GemWondrous Item, very rare

“A multi-colored gem that looks like an eye. The gruesome truth is that at one point it was, before the owner made a deal and had their soul sealed inside of it. A true window to the soul. They’re coveted and highly sought after by devils and demons alike.”

If you have one of these magic items in your possession you make death saving throws at advantage.

You can use an action to destroy this item and gain protection from death. The first time you fall to 0 hit points as a result of taking damage, you instead drop to 1 hit point, and the effect ends. Curse. If you take part in a ritual to create your own Soul Eye Gem, one of your eyes crystallizes and falls out. If you die and your Soul Eye Gem is in possession of another creature, you cannot be resurrected without it.

Join us on Twitch every Mon\Wed\Fri to create new Homebrews and check out our Patreon for 464+ magic items, tokens, maps, and more.

#D&D #DnD #Dungeons and Dragons #DnD5e #Homebrew #Magic Item #TTRPG #DnD Homebrew #TTRPG Homebrew #Homebrew Magic Items #DnDaDay #Soul Eye Gem

[utapri-translations-uuuu]

Keiyaku seiritsu - Lyrics + Translation (契約成立)

English title: Establishment of the contract / Conclusion of the deal

Please do not repost/retranslate without permission.

Kanji:

【Rj】 さぁ　命の契約だ！

キャンセルは受け付けませんよ？

【Ra】 そんなことは百も承知だ！

さぁ　サインはどこに必要だ？

紙に契約文、サインをして、印を押す…

【Rj】 ご冗談を！　これは悪魔のスタイル！

命を懸けた契約さ！

【Rj】 「時よ止まれ、すべては美しい」

【Ra】 「時よ止まれ、すべては……」

【Rj】 気を付けて！？　この一言が契約完了の合図だ！

【Ra】 それはそうだな！　対価を払うには早すぎる

【Ra】 悪魔を出し抜いて　第二の人生を謳歌するんだ！

【Rj】 愚かな人間を誘惑し　魂を思いのままにするのさ！

【Ra】 人類が果たしたことのない奇跡！

【Rj】 地獄へ落としてやる！

【Ra】 永遠の

【Rj】 永遠に

【Ra】 夢を実現する！

【Rj】 こきつかってや��！

【Ra】 私ならできる！！

【Rj】 俺ならできる！！

【Ra】 天才ファウストの

【Rj】 悪魔メフィストの

【Rj・Ra】 すべてを懸けて勝ってやる！

【Rj・Ra】 さぁ　駆け引きの始まりだ

最後に笑うのは

【Ra】 人間だ！

【Rj】 悪魔だ！

【Ra】 美しく

【Rj】 醜く

【Rj・Ra】 望むものを手に入れるために

最後の仕上げだ

【Ra】 命を賭けて(ベット)新たな人生を！

【Rj】 契約完了！

【Rj・Ra】 背中合わせの切望と絶望を…お楽しみはこれからだ！

Rōmaji:

【Rj】 Sā inochi no keiyaku da!

Kyanseru wa uketsukemasen yo?

【Ra】 Son'na koto wa hyaku mo shōchi da!

Sā sain wa doko ni hitsuyō da?

Kami ni keiyaku bun, sain o shite, in o osu…

【Rj】 Go jōdan o! Kore wa akuma no sutairu!

Inochi o kaketa keiyaku sa!

【Rj】 “Toki yo tomare, subete wa utsukushī”

【Ra】 “Toki yo tomare, subete wa……”

【Rj】 Ki o tsukete!? Kono hitokoto ga keiyaku kanryō no aizu da!

【Ra】 Sore wa sō da na! Taika o harau ni wa haya sugiru

【Ra】 Akuma o dashinuite daini no jinsei o ōka suru nda!

【Rj】 Oroka na ningen o yūwaku shi tamashī o omoi no mama ni suru no sa!

【Ra】 Jinrui ga hatashita koto no nai kiseki!

【Rj】 Jigoku e otoshite yaru!

【Ra】 Eien no

【Rj】 Eien ni

【Ra】 Yume o jitsugen suru!

【Rj】 Kokitsukatte yaru!

【Ra】 Watashi nara dekiru!!

【Rj】 Ore nara dekiru!!

【Ra】 Tensai Faust no

【Rj】 Akuma Mephisto no

【Rj・Ra】 Subete o kakete katte yaru!

【Rj・Ra】 Sā kakehiki no hajimari da

Saigo ni warau no wa

【Ra】 Ningen da!

【Rj】 Akuma da!

【Ra】 Utsukushiku

【Rj】 Minikuku

【Rj・Ra】 Nozomu mono o te ni ireru tame ni

Saigo no shiage da

【Ra】 Inochi o betto arata na jinsei o!

【Rj】 Keiyaku kanryō!

【Rj・Ra】 Senaka awase no setsubō to zetsubō o… o tanoshimi wa korekara da!

Translation:

【Rj】 Now, this is a lifelong contract!

Cancellations are not accepted, okay?

【Ra】 I’m perfectly aware of that!

Tell me, where do I have to sign?

We’ll sign the contract on a piece of paper, and stamp it…

【Rj】 You must be joking! This is the devil’s style!

It’s a contract in exchange for your soul!

【Rj】 “Stop, moment, you are wonderful”

【Ra】 “Stop, moment, you are…”

【Rj】 Be careful!! This expression signals the completion of the contract!

【Ra】 That’s true! It’s too soon to pay the price

【Ra】 I’ll outwit the devil and enjoy a second life!

【Rj】 I seduce foolish humans and take their souls!

【Ra】 A miracle that mankind has never achieved!

【Rj】 I’ll make you fall into hell!

【Ra】 I’m going to

【Rj】 I’m going to

【Ra】 Realize an eternal dream!

【Rj】 Push you around forever!

【Ra】 I can do it!!

【Rj】 I can do it!!

【Ra】 The genius Faust

【Rj】 The devil Mephisto

【Rj・Ra】 Will put everything on the line and win!

【Rj・Ra】 Now, let the bargaining begin

The one who will have the last laugh is

【Ra】 The human!

【Rj】 The devil!

【Ra】 Beautifully

【Rj】 Unseemly

【Rj・Ra】 Adding the finishing touches

To be able to obtain what we want

【Ra】 Trading my soul for a new life!

【Rj】 The contract is complete!

【Rj・Ra】 Opposite sides of the same coin, desire and despair… The fun is just beginning

#uta no prince sama #utapri #translation #english #drama cd #quartet night #dramatic masterpiece show #reiji kotobuki #ranmaru kurosaki #ai mikaze #camus #faust #faust last cantata