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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Jaime, a mage who has been forced to trap and kill werewolves for years as a slave, is then taken captive by them.
It was a stroke of luck for both the wolves and Jaime himself, it seemed too good to last.
Bookmarked by RenewedSentiments
21 Jul 2026
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The Public Perception of the Barding Profession by sospes
Fandoms: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, The Witcher (TV)
28 Jan 2020
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“I’m a bard, Geralt,” Jaskier says, like that explains everything. “To a lot of people, there’s a very fine line between a musician and a whore. A line that’s so fine that, in fact, it doesn’t really exist."
Geralt learns that Jaskier's life can be just as painful as his, sometimes.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 9,552
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- 1/1
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- 7
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- 343
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Bookmarked by RenewedSentiments
21 Jul 2026
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… is my friend.
— — — — — — — — — —
Jaime has been held, tortured, and forced to help hunters kill wolves for years. There’s no forgiveness. No rescue. No hope.
He’s bound to die one day. When the hunter’s get careless, or if the wolves finally find the camp and kill all the hunters, once and for all. Jaime prefers the second option.
He might as well help things along, no?
Series
- Part 1 of MIAWP
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 9,433
- Chapters:
- 2/2
- Collections:
- 1
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- 22
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- 290
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- 37
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- 3,376
Bookmarked by RenewedSentiments
13 Jul 2026
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We’re familiar with the mage collar. It’s a collar, leather or metal, engraved somehow with runes which serve to restrict the wearer’s access to their magic. It’s keyed to a specific individual, who is the one who dictates the usage of the wearer’s magic.
Instead, let’s consider the compulsion collar. It is similarly a leather or metal collar, but the engraved runes instead make it so that the wearer must obey the commands of the one who bound them to the best of their ability.
Now, what happens when you take a compulsion collar, and put it on a mage? Let’s find out.
Series
- Part 2 of MIAWP
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 20,550
- Chapters:
- 5/?
- Collections:
- 1
- Comments:
- 107
- Kudos:
- 274
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- 46
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- 4,027
Bookmarked by RenewedSentiments
13 Jul 2026
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After surviving years of horrific abuse at the hands of his late husband, Nick will do anything to protect his two pups—even sign himself over to the notoriously strict Beta lord, Silas Deane.
But Silas doesn't demand Nick's body. Instead, he keeps his distance and separates Nick from his children.
On his birthday, terrified, heartbroken, and desperate, Nick drops to his knees before his new husband and begs for a single glimpse of his pups.
Bookmarked by RenewedSentiments
06 Jul 2026