RenewedSentiments
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Tim jumped the short, gothic fence, landing as gracefully as he could with his still healing ribs. The journey here had been harder than he had thought, his body still so weak. He had had to be careful, though. He was avoiding two vigilantes and a crime lord. Not an easy group to stay away from.
Prior experience led him through the graves and grass, his path the same he had taken once before. His hands in his hoodie, he worried his thumb over the divots of the small object hidden there.
Finally, the stately, yet reserved, headstone appeared. He didn’t sit, this time, simply staring at words etched into marble.
HERE LIES JASON PETER TODD
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- Part 1 of Grave Diggers
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A small moment between Durge and Orin, set before the events of the game and before the forming of the Cult of the Absolute. In the Temple of Bhaal, two sisters have a conversation.
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"There is something here. In this room. It's watching us, I don't…" Merlin trailed off, his eyes going wide. There was a breeze on his neck. He looked upwards.
It was darkness, but it had form. Vaguely, the outline of a woman appeared in the writhing shadow. She crouched on the ceiling, eyes of pure void staring back at them. A twisted smile stretched across the face. She began reaching out a hand, dark magic building up in her grasp, pointing straight towards the group of huddled individuals.
There was no time. Merlin reacted instinctively. Arthur and the knights had looked to what had caught Merlin's attention and were shouting out battle formations. None of them were looking when Merlin released a spherical force of magic around him, pushing all of them away from where they had encircled him. They flew back, hitting the outer walls of the tunnel, as the dark energy blasted into Merlin. The stone floor was fracturing beneath the weight. Merlin had just a moment to look towards his friends, most struggling to orient themselves after the burst of magic that had spared them, before the earth caved, swallowing him whole.
[Abandoned Work! There will be no updates.]
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"I don't need a portrait, Astarian. I can see my reflection. Besides, it will be nice to have a portrait of someone I actually like in our lodgings. Those old human men don't brighten the room up like you would."
"Hold on, you want to get a portrait done of me? I didn't even want to help the man!"
"You don't want to help anyone Astarion."
"Well. Not everyone. I don't mind helping you. If I didn't you be dead in a ditch somewhere."
"Yes," she agreed, "You help me. And now I want to help you. You haven't seen your reflection in 200 years. I know you want to see what you look like again. So. I am going to wipe the bloodstains that you can't see off your face, you're going to grab your favorite outfit from camp, and we are going to get your portrait done."
Astarion was a bit stunned.
She smiled up at him, just a small thing that barely pulled up the sides of her lips. She often smiled at him like that. Like she was afraid of giving him more than he could handle. Or perhaps more than she could.
"Lean down. You're too tall."
"Yes, my tyrant of a lover," he said, a purr in his voice and a wetness to his eye that he wouldn't admit to under torture.
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A young wolf pup finds himself at the mercy of his pack's chief rivals.
Bookmarked by RenewedSentiments
27 Jun 2026
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The first time they gathered like this, it felt like a shameful secret. Slinking away in the dead of night when their surroundings were still verdant and a good measure safer, when the orb in Gale's chest was still extending new roots through his body, its dark tendrils latching into living flesh to leech away the vitality, and the pain of it was starting to grow unbearable. Gale hadn't asked for his help, of course-
Gale aches, and the Dark Urge has a means of alleviating it, if only for a little while. Pining and ruminating on the similarities between their plights from the POV of my human Dark Urge bard, Paris.
Bookmarked by RenewedSentiments
24 Jun 2026
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Chengxian’s runaway husband-to-be is… hopefully not unconscious in some nameless ditch somewhere in the middle of an annoyingly large, rain-dripping and root-tangled forest.
The victorious Grand Duke Chengxian of Jin receives the hand of his lifelong enemy in marriage.
Prince Kejun flees. Chengxian finds this very understandable.
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Bookmarked by RenewedSentiments
24 Jun 2026
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Bodythrash bodyfervour body strains against the air but its arms are pinned to its sides daggers clenched in fists jaw clenched will clenched and will can’t fight back with preything glowing sick in the night—
Can’t lift its chin but hisses in a breath anyway, the body, and tastes that power in rosewater on its tongue. Sweat beads at its temple. Hunger pools at the mouth.
This is the body: a finely-tuned instrument, harmony of muscles in equilibrium, expanding and contracting like a tune, honed and whetted and aimed for the heart. This is the body: a blade.
One moonless night, Sceleritas Fel whispers in her ear: we all kill what we love.
Series
- Part 2 of our angels don't recognise us
Bookmarked by RenewedSentiments
23 Jun 2026
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She remembers how he looked at her in the days after the bard’s death. That familiar, wide-eyed look. Fear. If she remembers anything from before, she remembers fear.
He does not look afraid now.
Series
- Part 1 of Sympathy Magic
Bookmarked by RenewedSentiments
23 Jun 2026