...))

halsin is like. now that i have all this empty room in my head post shadow-curse i can finally do what i've wanted to this whole time. complain about the big city. and fuck tav sloppy style

qi

LOOOOOOOO AT WHAT @skidotto DREW FOR ME !!!!!!! It's my kitty Phoebe 🥹🥹🥹

Reference of said chonky kitty under the cut 😌 BUT AAAAAAAA I love this SO MUCH

I do not care (I care very deeply 😌) about the cyclic pattern of toxic ascendantxspawn relationships because, AT THE END OF THE DAY, the story is about two people who deeply love each other. SO deeply that they allow themselves to fall victims to their worst fears by bringing each other's deepest desires to fruition. AND THE FACT THAT all of this can be happening and he can still look at his partner and go "you're right. But I love you still, and I'll protect you for everything you've given me. Just give me time."

IM SO NORMAL ABOUT A!A 😫 I DONT CARE--

Shared this rambling with some server friends the other day, but I was rewatching some Ascended Astarion dialogue (swimming in the brainrot, as one does), and was struck by one of the dialogue options in the conversation after he turns Tav. I hadn't really given it much focus/attention previously.

You can say something like "You've seemed distant since the ritual" and when he responds, he owns it, saying something like "huh, maybe you're right," before going on to wax about how everything seems so much slower because his new instincts are kicking in, and he's still riding the tide of that change.

I thought it was sweet and sort of telling that while he doesn't apologize for it, he acknowledges his SO's feelings/assessment of it as a fair one, and offers them insight into his own current feelings of acclimating to this monumental change he's going through.

And I think this gets glossed over because yes, he's a bit arrogant here, he's still Astarion after all, but he doesn't rebuke his partner for pointing this out. There's a level of care and responsibility he shows his partner by accepting their assessment, offering his own feelings on the matter, and clarifying that any distancing between them isn't intentional or out of lack of love. It's in his own Astarion sort of way, but I see it as an attempt to reassure his partner all the same.

And, as a friend pointed out to me, his insistence that his powers will come with time could be out of want to reassure his SO they made the right decision, and that Astarion will be their protector here on out instead of the other way around (see also: "You need not fear anything.")

It might not be the most popular interpretation, but interactions like this make me feel like if his consort was like "hey you seem upset" or distant or angry or anything like that in the future, he would listen earnestly and attempt to assuage those concerns/admit to his role in them.

It's the implications that his SO is being deprived or left wanting for something (like freedom for example) that provoke the angry reactions from him, as he feels very strongly that he's providing everything for them and sees himself in that provider role, I think he takes that as more of an insult than an observation.

The moment Tigris tells Snow he looks like his father, my heart broke.

That's her Prim.

That's the child she took care of while being a child herself, stuck with an adult who couldn't care for them all that well. She tried so hard and sacrificed so much for the boy that despite all her love still turns into a monster.

Katniss's Prim dies, but Tigris' Prim destroys every part of the boy she raised, to the point she wants him dead and has nothing in her heart for him except absolute loathing.

Chapter 6!!! Is here!!! A direct continuation from the previous chapter, May is tasked with saving her new housemate only to realise she's being faced with than more than she'd first thought, MUCH more than she could've prepared for.

Definitley trying to add more bits and pieces of wolrdbuilding throughout, as well, so let me know if it flows well!

tw: blood, gore, fire, burning, mentions of war, death, bodily horror

Ch. 6

The laceration on May’s arm throbbed as blood gushed from the wound, only fueling her desire to cut down the man responsible for it.

There were no shouts of warning as the first volley of arrows was released into the main courtyard of the manor. The whistles of easily a hundred arrows arching with grace over the main wall, many hitting the cracked cobble at their feet and too many more sinking deep into flesh. A score of men downed in but a moment; she was caught with her backed turned. She wouldn’t let it happen again.

Her sword bit home in the neck of her opponent, sending a hot spread of blood back at her. Her men had started surrounding the outermost section of the courtyard, working their way towards the center and slaughtering everything in their paths as tight units of fifteen to thirty men. They were efficient; May trained her men to be deadly.

Her sword killed one man after another, the rage she felt becoming the passion of the Winds. Her heaving breaths of unbridled anger became the steady breaths of a woman singing in the Gods praises. Her feet were weightless underneath her as she spun and ran through entrails, the death rattles of the fallen a prayer to her victory.

Time both slowed and flowed faster, men seemingly growing old and dying as May severed an arm here and slashed across a chest there, a whirlwind of honed chaos. She continued pushing forward, a large group of her men now rallying behind her as they met the center of the courtyard. Their main advance would be towards the contingent of archers that managed to huddle towards the manor’s gate.

As May lifted a dead man’s shield from his corpse, instinctively blocking arrows as they headed towards her, she caught a glint of something from the corner of her blood-red eyes. Off in the corner, towards the right of the manor, smoke started to bellow from the peaked roof.

The attic.

She was smart to have listened to her instincts those few weeks back, vacating the few valuables from the room and cleansing it in whatever means necessary. Putting the remainder of the old texts and records either in the vault or the archives, the room was merely a little secret hiding space that made for a good saferoom in this particular instance, where Oryn’s safety was in danger.

Oryn? Why would this be about Oryn?

It didn’t matter. She needed to protect them—hide them—and Demetrius was the only other living person who knew of it’s existence.

Something much larger was at play here. Someone deeply connected to May and Ilucia had infiltrated the system she fought so hard to build, making her seem a fool. As she watched the first soft licks of orange cascade across the eaves decorating the attic, her resolve quickly returned.

“Squads four and nine, come with me! Everyone else,” she turned, her throat already horse from breathing in smoke and screaming as she killed, “Kill the rest of these bastards!”

Although she’d already seen more than a squad or two lying dead on the cobble, the morale in her remaining men didn’t waiver. They stood tall, weapons ready, in the exact formations they’d practiced. They stomped their feet in time, yelling their war-cry as praises for their Duchess.

She started towards the side door of the manor, the two squads called for quickly falling into a defensive formation around her. As they ran, May couldn’t keep her eyes off the roof being enveloped by the flames.

The manor itself was hardly damaged but for a broken window here or a scuff along the mortar there. It’s as if the goal here wasn’t to destroy, only to kill—and to do so quickly. The fact that the fire was now reaching towards the sky in only one part—specifically from one room—There must have been another motive, a plan…

Sprinting through the side door and running straight for the closest set of stairs, May noticed just how quiet the manor was now that all who are usually patrolling it took up arms to fight out in the courtyard. This is my fault, she thought to herself, but not because of the weight all of her fallen men; because Oryn was sat in a burning cage and it was May who had put them there.

Out of breath but nowhere near exhausted, they arrived at the top floor, May ripping the door off the closet. The heat was nearly unbearable, the immediate wash of newly born flames reaching from what was once the sealed entrance. May’s blood rushed through her, her heartbeat loud and persistent in her ears as the hum slowly started seeping into her skull.

The men behind her stood back, staring at the soft blaze set before them.

The clang of a desperate fight could be heard over the roar of the flames, someone battling for their life.

“Get me up there!” May screamed, turning to her men with her jaw set and eyes ablaze.

“But—”

Without thinking—without even a second to blink or take a breath—May’s sword cut deep into the abdomen of the Squad Four Commander, the hilt meeting the soft leather of his armor as the blood seeped onto May’s hand. Her eyes were dark, determined.

She turned to the other’s, their eyes wide and mouths slack.

“Get me up there,” she repeated, her breath low and hot.

Without a second thought, she was all but thrown by her men off the floor and up into the searing flames of the attic entrance.

The pounding hum resonating beneath her skull got stronger as she hoisted herself up on burning beams into the center of the alcove. The smoke burned her eyes and left her in a wake of dense fog, unable to see much of the world around her besides the roaring flames slowly dissolving the wooden room. She gasped and hacked as the ash entered her lungs, burning her insides with a fierceness she hadn’t ever felt before.

“Oryn!” She called, her voice horse and meaningless amongst the raging fire. The fighting continued, the clanging of steel just barely making itself heard. She stepped forward, her own bloodied sword held in front of her.

She was getting closer, the battle sounds growing louder, her vision fading with each step she took, her skull vibrating as the pressure of the pounding built. She cried out, falling to her knees, the flames seeming to edge their way closer and closer to her with each passing moment.

There was a shriek of pain, something almost animalistic in nature. The ripping of skin, grinding of bone, tearing of sinew and blood coursing through changing veins.

Fuck, May thought, heaving up smoke as tears rolled down her cheeks Not here. Not now!

The pounding in her head slowly turned from raging, meaningless rumbles into the staccato beats of something being beckoned forth. She didn’t feel any pain, but the soft mush inside of her skull slowly separated, something new emerging from the inside. Her eyes snapped open as the rush of something powerful washed over her. She lifted herself from her knees, her vision steady and clear as she saw what unfolded before her.

Demetrius was fighting neck and neck with two soldiers May had never seen before, wearing the livery of a duke or duchess she didn’t recognize. Their faces were covered in what must have once been white linen, now burnt at the edges and covered in soot. Their skin had been scorched in places and was completely barren in others. How they continued to wield a swords was beyond her comprehension.

With a new weightlessness pushing her forward as the thrumming became a hymn in the back of her head, May threw herself alongside Demetrius, her own sword flying in beautiful arches over her head as she tried to even the odds.

Demetrius was worse off than those they were fighting, a large slash across his face leaking a garish trickle of blood. His leather plate was slick and oily, his hair plastered to his head as he swung his sword ruthlessly. There was nothing but the power and flow of the Wind behind his eyes, the battle rage holding his spirit.

As May ducked under a slash from the enemy, she quickly brought her sword behind the legs of him. As his tendons were cut deep and a spray of blood hit May’s hands, she stood and turned towards the hulking creature behind her. She made a final puncture to the soldier’s throat, killing him.

May could barely make out the full shape of the beast, her vision clearer than it should’ve been in the smoke but unable to focus on whatever Oryn’s form was. She could just hardly see Alec peeking out from behind what must have been the right shoulder of the beast, clearly hanging on to the protruding thorns and masses of skin running down its back. As it steadied itself on its two legs, finally meeting eyes with the fight between Demetrius and the other soldier—flames roaring just barely behind him— Oryn let out a deep, guttural cry.

Oryn leapt into the fight, Alec hanging on tight, trying to hide his face in whatever he could find to block out the smoke. The pads of Oryn’s feet hit the smoldering floor like a clap of thunder, sending shudders through the attic and bringing both May and Demetrius to their knees. It was instinctual: cover your ears. As Alec did the same, the pounding in May’s head ceased. She watched the remaining soldier bring his sword up above Demetrius’s bowed head as he knelt, readying himself for the killing blow.

His arms, strong and lean and glistening in the light of the fire—were steady, the linen finally falling from his face and being devoured by the flames. Then, something changed.

The silence finally enveloped May’s skull once again as she lifted her head to meet the eyes of the man ready to kill her most valuable soldier; one of her closest friends. Holding his glowing sword high above his head, his arms began to shake. The veins in his arms started to bulge, his skin draining to become a ghostly white. His veins started to move, the blood inside of them seemingly thick and collecting in places. As a slow drip of blood started to leak from his nose, his head exploded.

May couldn’t tear her eyes away. Blood and chunks of brain matter and shards of sharp skull bits flew with force from the viscera, a loud hisssss being heard as the fire licked the liquid into more smoke for them all to choke on.

She was yanked to her feet by something that wasn’t a human’s hand and lobbed over the beast’s shoulder, feeling a scared hand reaching out and holding on to hers as Oryn then picked up Demetrius, who was just as stunned by the scene that unfolded before them. Alec squeezed May’s hand, Demetrius gripped the monster’s ever-moving flesh, and Oryn barreled through the outermost wall, letting the group of them fall into the courtyard below.

bothering him

i think baymax could run doom. i think he has doom somewhere in his files

Chapter 8 is here mwahaha 😈

The siege has been going longer than expected as May tries to come up with something to save her men from the impending doom of being locked behind the courtyard walls for too long, still not sure of where the attack came from.

P L E A S E give me feedback and critiques 😌 only partially edited as well so keep that in mind lol

tw: mentions of death, war, bodily harm, blood, food shortages

Tag list (dm me if you want to be a part of the club lol): @skidotto @idonthaveapenname

Ch. 8

They started calling it “the Bitches Siege.” It enraged May’s men in a way that made her proud, no matter how twisted the circumstances.

The makeshift barricade lasted longer than anticipated, especially after the local masons and carpenters took to work reinforcing it on their own volition. Food and certain other supplies were growing scarce, though that was to be expected from a siege. It wasn’t going to end in a matter of days; they’d be lucky if it were over in a matter of weeks, if not months.

May was a studied Duchess, understanding more than others the ramification of what this attack could mean. It’d been months since Giardin’s men were at her gates; they had settled their three-generation long debacle after May had all but killed him in hand-to-hand. She knew him as a coward, but never expected him to yield. The truce was signed within the day. And, considering the lengths at which they were at odds, she had never seen him possess such tactics.

But what would he know about Oryn?

There were no secrets among her men. At least, none that May couldn’t control. Oryn was a secret that was spread wide throughout the manor and surrounding encampment, the stories of a man who can become a beast saving the day.

Little did they know that the entire attempt at this siege was one made on Oryn’s life.

It was obvious who they were searching for; they distracted as many of May’s men as they could with the hopes that Oryn would be tucked away into the saferoom that they must have known about long before May herself had discovered it.

How was it all related to the summons she received from the King? The call to war?

She had yet to call a meeting to discuss anything more than battle tactics with her men. The looks of desperation and curiosity grew in numbers with each passing day, more and more of them needing answers to feel satiated. But May didn’t have any.

Someone is leagues and leagues ahead of me, calculating every step I take and making sure I fall into place like the pawn they want me to be. Whether it’s one of my own men, someone from the church, some imposter hiding amongst the chaos—

“You’re brooding,” Demetrius’s heavy hands clapped together as he stood at attention next to may, staring ahead.

“Planning,” May interjected, sighing as she changed her own stance to match his. They stood atop the barricade as the sun set, the small flames of invader campfires glowing softly in the distance.

“We need to ask for further assistance,” he mumbled, his brows setting deeper. “Look at them all out there. A few thousand, at least.”

“We can hold,” she said, her own confidence wavering in her voice, “I’m not concerned about the barricade. You know it comes down to supplies, which we’re steadily running out of.” She sighed. “Any word yet?”

He shook his head, not daring to make eye contact. “I doubt there will be,” he scoffed.

May’s jaw tightened. “I’m not going to disagree with you, Demetrius, but what proof do we have?”

“Who else knew?”

She took a moment to respond, wishing she could ignore the obvious signs. “You know what that would mean, Demetrius! That’s treason. I can’t risk that yet.”

“Then when?” He finally looked right at her, the anger flaring in his eyes. “When our men are starving? When we’ve eaten all the mounts and burned the last of our fuel?”

She glared at him the way one does when you’ve disrespected your superiors. “I’ve sent my ravens. Until we get a response, the only thing we can do is wait.”

Demetrius shook his head, turning to face straight ahead again. “You know,” he started, “I don’t know much about politics; never cared to. But playing their games can only end one way. Your father knew that.”

May’s jaw tensed as the taste of acid coated her tongue. “My father…” she fought against the lump forming in her throat. “I’m standing firm, General. Tend to your men. I doubt a raid tonight, but be prepared nonetheless.”

She felt his eyes on her back as she descended.

“It has to be about him,” he called after her.

“I know.”

-

There was no brooding after this kill, just a constant worry nagging in the back of Oryn’s head about Alec; the young boy reminded them so much of… some warm and tingly feeling. May’s men quickly turned the dining hall of her manor into a makeshift infirmary; there weren’t enough structures that would properly hold out all the elements within the barricades wall. This was the safest they could get, dying amongst one another.

May’s boots made a crisp sound as they clicked across the stone, walking amongst the rows of beds. It couldn’t be more than maybe a hundred of them—if that—but every single one of them was a devastating blow when your entire retinue only consisted of maybe 600 men total.

There was no doubt that she continued to inspire them just by being in their presence, allowing them to gaze upon the person they thought was wiser and more deserving than themselves. In the recent weeks, however, she could tell that the light behind their eyes was slowly fading. They didn’t see an end coming soon to the carnage, no matter how slowly it was reaped.

She looked from one patient to the next, smiling and shaking hands and bowing as was expected of her. It took longer than she would have liked, but she finally approached Alec’s bed, where Oryn was perched by his feet hunched over a massive tome.

His injuries weren’t as severe as May had assumed. The burns were the worst of it, taking the longest to heal and the only reason he was still being kept in bed.

“How are you holding up?” May smiled, meeting his gaze. He couldn’t help but smile back at her, his eyes still full of hope.

“You could’ve let me up days ago,” he said, nudging Oryn with his foot under the blanket. “But at least now you’re letting me be useful.”

Oryn nodded, shuffling where they sat and waving their hand at whatever it was Alec said, too absorbed by the book in their lap to have heard anything.

“He’d do really well with proper tutors,” Alec said, all but beaming with pride. “I never thought Clergy History was too fun, but we have to cover that first before we start with the real stuff. Look at this,” he said, immediately changing the subject as he slowly peeled back one of the bandages wrapped around his arm.

May peered into the healing wound, still leaking a bit here and there with the skin having faded from a vicious red into a more tender pink. “You seem more anxious than excited to get out of bed,” she said, eyeing him with suspicion. “I don’t want you fighting yet. Besides,” she gestured towards Oryn who had all but stuck their face right up against the aging parchment, “it’s too important to teach him about the world. I can’t risk you,” she tousled his hair, not realizing the care in the gesture until her hand was back at her side.

He laughed before pouting as he fixed his hair. He really was just a boy.

“Alright,” May sighed, “I’m sorry to have to pull you away from your studies,” she waved a hand in between Oryn’s face and the pages of their book, finally pulling them away from whatever they were reading, “But you and I have some planning to discuss.”