Going Into My Replay Of Aldiirn, One Of My Goals Was To Use Wyll More BUT HE KEEPS DISAPPROVING… It's

Going into my replay of Aldiirn, one of my goals was to use Wyll more BUT HE KEEPS DISAPPROVING… It's kinda hilarious since both are community-minded and self-sacrificing but evidently have very different ideas of the Nature of Man and how to go about adventuring. I came to the conclusion that Aldiirn just doesn't like Wyll because he's too goody-goody. You can't just barge in, shove your morality in people's faces, then leave for the next adventure, that's insane!

Another goal was to act more in-character, which meant using Astarion for anything especially chaotic I wanted to do lmao. The goblins automatically accosted Aldiirn after Astarion did the toast, like YEAH Aldiirn would be running right in to cover for his ass.

More Posts from G4le-dinur and Others

g4le-dinur

1 year ago

Works every time 😌✨

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g4le-dinur

1 year ago

Sketch of the Day: No Stranger to A Needle

Other people have depicted this before and better than me! Just testing out some new ink brushes.

I kinda miss the old armor description detail that Astarion was into poetry and that one of those poems spoke to him so deeply he embroidered it straight into his clothes.

I just thought it was a cool detail.

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g4le-dinur

1 year ago

Got me ugly crying for real.

Mortal Astarion X F! Human Tav. Ummm, angst.👀

For decades, this manor offered him a place to call home in the truest sense.

The hallway was a sacred gallery, adorned with paintings that were not mere canvases, but tangible echoes of their life together. Each brushstroke, lovingly rendered by her hand, captured the essence of cherished memories.

Whenever he opened the door at the end of the hallway, he was greeted by the radiant smile of his beloved, and the hearth beckoned him to surrender to its comforting embrace. Yet, it was the vast window next to it that held the greatest significance. The tender caress of sunlight danced across his skin as he lost himself in the pages of a book beside her. It was here, bathed in the golden rays, that he could truly revel in the miracle she had bestowed upon him – the cure to his vampiric curse, a gift of life, a reminder of the depths of her love and the power it held to transcend even the most insurmountable of boundaries.

Here at home, he had found everything his heart desired.

But nothing is ever truly perfect. Life simply doesn't work that way. Even the mightiest of fortresses cannot withstand the relentless march of time.

He thought he was ready for it, but not like this.

Never like this.

_________

The poem cited is "When You Are Old" BY W.B. Yeats. One of my favorites.❤️

Alright, thanks for reading the second installment of my "this did not really happen to my couple". After delving into the mortality of my Tav, Amaara, I found myself confronting a fear more profound than death itself – the fear of morbidity, of life's vibrancy fading before its inevitable end. So I decided to yank my CP around this theme. Self-indulgence at its finest.😊

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g4le-dinur

1 year ago

Dead Rats & Bad apple

chapter 5-6

That’s all

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g4le-dinur

1 year ago

Companions Dealing With The Aftermath Of The Waning Moon

Companions dealing with the aftermath of The Waning Moon

(Yes I know Halsin wasn’t there lol)

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g4le-dinur

1 year ago

Astarion's Ascension - Traditional art (pencils, gold acrylic, PS edit). Sketch here.

You had demons to kill within you screaming With a gun loaded with guilt You opened their eyes [...] Bleed well, the soul you're about to sell For passion deranged [...] Bleed well, the heart you're about to fail For reasons insane Kill and tell Baby, we're bleeding well In hell [...] I heard you weeping And on those words, a church was built To keep the pain in

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g4le-dinur

1 year ago

The brilliant Good Omens drunk Aziraphale and Crowley bookshop scene from the book, 5 ways: :)

The Full Cast Audiobook with David Tennant and Michael Sheen 2021 (audiobook masterpost :))

David Tennant reading the scene at the Playing in the Dark event 2019

Neil Gaiman reading the scene at the event An Evening With Neil Gaiman event at University of Washington 2015 (x)

Part of Michael Sheen reading the scene at the The Town Hall Good Omens event with Neil and Nick Offerman 2019 (x)

Part of Jon Hamm reading the scene The Art of Elysium’s Heaven Gala event 2024

And now it was three o'clock. The Antichrist had been on Earth for fifteen hours, and one angel and one demon had been drinking solidly for three of them.

They sat opposite one another in the back room of Aziraphale's dingy old bookshop in Soho.

Most bookshops in Soho have back rooms, and most of the back rooms are filled with rare, or at least very expensive, books. But Aziraphale's books didn't have illustrations. They had old brown covers and crackling pages. Occasionally, if he had no alternative, he'd sell one.

And, occasionally, serious men in dark suits would come calling and suggest, very politely, that perhaps he'd like to sell the shop itself so that it could be turned into the kind of retail outlet more suited to the area. Sometimes they'd offer cash, in large rolls of grubby fifty-pound notes. Or, sometimes, while they were talking, other men in dark glasses would wander around the shop shaking their heads and saying how inflammable paper was, and what a fire trap he had here.

And Aziraphale would nod and smile and say that he'd think about it. And then they'd go away. And they'd never come back

Just because you're an angel doesn't mean you have to be a fool.

The table in front of the two of them was covered with bottles.

"The point is," said Crowley, "the point is. The point is." He tried to focus on Aziraphale.

"The point is," he said, and tried to think of a point.

"The point I'm trying to make," he said, brightening, "is the dolphins. That's my point."

"Kind of fish," said Aziraphale.

"Nononono," said Crowley, shaking a finger. "'S mammal. Your actual mammal. Difference is—" Crowley waded through the swamp of his mind and tried to remember the difference. "Difference is, they—"

"Mate out of water?" volunteered Aziraphale.

Crowley's brow furrowed. "Don't think so. Pretty sure that's not it. Something about their young. Whatever." He pulled himself together. "The point is. The point is. Their brains."

He reached for a bottle.

"What about their brains?" said the angel.

"Big brains. That's my point. Size of. Size of. Size of damn big brains. And then there's the whales. Brain city, take it from me. Whole damn sea full of brains."

"Kraken," said Aziraphale, staring moodily into his glass.

Crowley gave him the long cool look of someone who has just had a girder dropped in front of his train of thought.

"Uh?"

"Great big bugger," said Aziraphale. "Sleepeth beneath the thunders of the upper deep. Under loads of huge and unnumbered polypol-polipo-bloody great seaweeds, you know. Supposed to rise to the surface right at the end, when the sea boils."

"Yeah?"

"Fact."

"There you are, then," said Crowley, sitting back. "Whole sea bubbling, poor old dolphins so much seafood gumbo, no one giving a damn. Same with gorillas. Whoops, they say, sky gone all red, stars crashing to ground, what they putting in the bananas these days? And then—"

"They make nests, you know, gorillas," said the angel, pouring another drink and managing to hit the glass on the third go.

"Nah."

"God's truth. Saw a film. Nests."

"That's birds," said Crowley.

"Nests," insisted Aziraphale.

Crowley decided not to argue the point.

"There you are then," he said. "All creatures great and smoke. I mean small. Great and small. Lot of them with brains. And then, bazamm."

"But you're part of it," said Aziraphale. "You tempt people. You're good at it."

Crowley thumped his glass on the table. "That's different. They don't have to say yes. That the ineffable bit, right? Your side made it up. You've got to keep testing people. But not to destruction."

"All right. All right. I don't like it any more than you, but I told you. I can't disod-disoy-not do what I'm told. 'M a'nangel."

"There's no theaters in Heaven," said Crowley. "And very few films."

"Don't you try to tempt me, " said Aziraphale wretchedly. "I know you, you old serpent."

"Just you think about it," said Crowley relentlessly. "You know what eternity is? You know what eternity is? I mean, d'you know what eternity is? There's this big mountain, see, a mile high, at the end of the universe, and once every thousand years there's this little bird—"

"What little bird?" said Aziraphale suspiciously.

"This little bird I'm talking about. And every thousand years—"

"The same bird every thousand years?"

Crowley hesitated. "Yeah," he said.

"Bloody ancient bird, then."

"Okay. And every thousand years this bird flies—"

"—limps—"

"flies all the way to this mountain and sharpens its beak—"

"Hold on. You can't do that. Between here and the end of the universe there's loads of—" The angel waved a hand expansively, if a little unsteadily. "Loads of buggerall, dear boy."

"But it gets there anyway," Crowley persevered.

"How?"

"It doesn't matter!"

"It could use a space ship," said the angel.

Crowley subsided a bit. "Yeah," he said. "If you like. Anyway, this bird—"

"Only it is the end of the universe we're talking about," said Aziraphale. "So it'd have to be one of those space ships where your descendants are the ones who get out at the other end. You have to tell your descendants, you say, When you get to the Mountain, you've got to—" He hesitated. "What have they got to do?"

"Sharpen its beak on the mountain," said Crowley. "And then it flies back—"

"—in the space ship—"

"And after a thousand years it goes and does it all again," said Crowley quickly.

There was a moment of drunken silence,

"Seems a lot of effort just to sharpen a beak," mused Aziraphale.

"Listen," said Crowley urgently, "the point is that when the bird has worn the mountain down to nothing, right, then—"

Aziraphale opened his mouth. Crowley just knew he was going to make some point about the relative hardness of birds' beaks and granite mountains, and plunged on quickly.

"—then you still won't have finished watching The Sound of Music."

Aziraphale froze.

"And you'll enjoy it," Crowley said relentlessly. "You really will."

"My dear boy—"

"You won't have a choice."

"Listen"

"Heaven has no taste."

"Now—"

"And not one single sushi restaurant."

A look of pain crossed the angel's suddenly very serious face.

"I can't cope with this while 'm drunk," he said. "I'm going to sober up."

"Me too."

They both winced as the alcohol left their bloodstreams, and sat up a bit more neatly. Aziraphale straightened his tie.

"I can't interfere with divine plans," he croaked.

Crowley looked speculatively into his glass, and then filled it again. "What about diabolical ones?" he said.

"Pardon?"

"Well, it's got to be a diabolical plan, hasn't it? We're doing it. My side."

"Ah, but it's all part of the overall divine plan," said Aziraphale. "Your side can't do anything without it being part of the ineffable divine plan," he added, with a trace of smugness.

"You wish!"

"No, that's the—" Aziraphale snapped his finger irritably. "The thing. What d'you call it in your colorful idiom? The line at the bottom."

"The bottom line."

"Yes. It's that."

"Well . . . if you're sure . . ." said Crowley.

"No doubt about it."

Crowley looked up slyly.

(too long, the rest in the book :) <3)

Fun fact: Neil said about this scene that there there were lines by both of them but it was primarily by Terry, that he remembers this was: something that I just remember Terry phoning me up and reading it to me. And this was the point that I knew this book was going to work. ❤

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g4le-dinur

1 year ago