#-scratch.. they have just been rather dormant

[leadendeath]

started lifting weights again yesterday, haven’t done it for maybe around a year because i was in a bad way mentally and physically </3 i didn’t overdo it BUT i do have the good kind of ache today… noticed it especially when i had a energy burst of autism/love (same thing) and had to stim it out, and hurt myself wiggling </333

[clandestineloki]

Cold Flower (NSFW)

A/N: My public apology for going dormant on Tumblr for nearly 5 months.

tw: jotun!loki dom!loki, sub!cottagegirl!reader, loki’s cock is big but his size kink is bigger, corruption kink, praise kink, manhandling but very cutely if i may say!!, unrealistically fast paced because loki is horny ) >:D

read it on ao3!!

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The grass tickles your ankles as you step through the bushes, careful not to step on any pretty flowers in your path.

Sunset is nearing, and you've only gotten so much as a few ferns. But you don't mind. The forest will bloom when it wants to, and even if you haven't collected any flowers for your work you're having a wonderful time looking around at all the birds and the deer and the butterflies and nature; just getting away from the busy life in the village is enough of a treat.

Stepping through a clear patch, you look around for any deer traps. What deer traps? The ones that have hidden nets that burst out from the ground like flytraps and scoop up any poor being that just happened to be there, leaving them trapped up in the air by a rope tied to a tree.

Now that you think of it, a clear patch in the middle of the forest means one thing: a deer trap has been set off already.

Right above where you stand.

Realizing the danger of being anywhere near a threatened or harmed deer, you’re ready to bolt out of the woods when you look up, and see a net that’s filled with leaves, branches, and stray grass reeds.

And dangling out of the net is a leg— a leg that looks less like a deer’s… and more of a person’s.

You gasp in horror. Someone’s caught in it!

Running around the tree, you find the rope suspending the trap buried in the ground. You rummage for your shears and hastily cut it, grabbing the rope to pull it down with your weight and let the trap sink to the ground slowly.

When it does, you run over, cutting away as much of the net as you can, digging through the leaves until you reach someone covered in an enormous fur cape.

You gingerly pull it back, and stare in awe.

It’s a man, with dark hair and sharp features, no doubt very handsome despite the scratches and cuts he’s sustained. The linen top he’s wearing is littered with twigs.

Softly, you brush away the twigs when you touch his wrist and freeze.

And quite literally, because his skin is as cold as ice.

Almost as if he were a corpse.

“Sir! Sir! Please wake up!”

When Prince Loki’s eyes open and adjust to the glare of the sun— and the silhouette blocking it out— his breath hitches.

Is this Valhalla? Am I… dead?

Surely, he must be. For above him kneels the most beautiful girl, almost shimmering in the golden light, it’s definite that you’re an angel.

“Hello? Sir? Can you hear me?”

An even lovelier voice for a radiant woman. He nods, and you let out a sigh of relief.

“Oh, thank goodness!” You lean forward, brushing away twigs from his face and cloak. “I thought you had died! I hate those deer traps, they’re dangerous and they're so hard to see! It almost killed you! Are you alright?”

“Yes- Yes, I’m fine. Thank you.”

It’s as if he spoke without thinking, eager to hear more from your pretty lips. You catch your breath, kneeling back down, and he sits up to get a better look at the captivating face of his savior.

“How long have you been up there?”

Loki brushes his hand against his cheek. “I'm not quite sure- ah-”

He hisses when his fingers graze a wound on his temple, and he retracts his hand to find a few specks of scarlet.

“Probably not long, I'm still bleeding,” he shows you his hand, and you gasp.

“Oh, no,” you take a closer look at his face. “My house isn't far from here, I can help you clean up and get some rest. You must be exhausted. Are you alright with some porridge and biscuits? They're all I have the ingredients for and the farmers’ market is a bit far so I'm sorry if...”

Loki honestly can’t concentrate on what you're saying. He nods along, but he's rather focused on you.

As he tags along behind you as you retrace your steps to your home, Loki whispers a thanks to whatever Gods led him to be graced by your beauty in this moment, regardless of the circumstance. He had just been hunting for sport, unaware of the trap that had pulled him up into the tree so suddenly and rendered him unconscious.

Now, he's found something— no, someone— better; a much more rewarding, delicious little prey.

“I just realized I haven't introduced myself."

Loki looks up just as you say your name, timidly holding out your hand. He takes it after a moment.

“Loki,” he replies, once he finds it in himself to speak.

“Like the prince?"

He recoils a bit in surprise. “Yes- Yes, like the prince. Uh-"

“How are you feeling?" you ask, dabbing the cloth lightly against his wrist.

“They don't hurt if I don't move."

“Okay. Let me know if it does.”

Loki nods, watching you silently tend to his wounds, before he hisses softly.

You flinch, pulling away. “Oh, I'm sorry-"

“You really don't know who I am?” Loki asks.

A second passes as you look down at him, brows furrowing as you sit down next to him on your bed.

“I can't recall. Sorry, have you ordered flowers from me before?"

“You run a flower shop?”

“Yes, that's why I was in the woods. I was looking for fresh flowers and came across you up in that trap.” You tilt your head. “What were you doing in the forest, anyway?"

“I was... hunting for deer, and the last thing I remember is hearing something above me snap.”

“Hunting… Is that what you do for a living?”

“Well, no. My brother and I do it for sport."

“Oh."

Loki stares at you blankly. “My brother, Prince Thor."

You nod.

Loki chuckles. Your pretty little head hasn't registered it.

He leans in close, brushing his lips against your ear, and whispers very slowly:

“I'm Prince Loki."

And the reaction he gets is the cutest. Your lips part as your eyes widen, to which he grins.

But he doesn't expect you to fling yourself off the side of the bed and onto the ground, bowing down to him.

“Your Highness!” you squeak. “I'm so sorry, I didn't know!! I-”

“Darling, please," he chuckles, shaking his head. “That isn't necessary-"

“I'm so sorry, I'll get some tea, do you want anything from the market? Please, allow me-”

Loki bends down, lifting you off the floor in a princess carry and sets you down on the bed.

“Please, don’t stress yourself. You saved my life.”

He takes your hand, kissing it softly as he smiles up at you.

“Thank you, pretty angel.”

Your eyes widen as you stutter out tiny breaths. Norns, aren’t you the most adorable?

“I don’t think you believe me.” He stands up, pretending to be offended by your silence.

“No!” you cry . “I mean- I do believe you! It’s just- I was surprised, I didn’t think-”

“Didn’t think what? A prince would just be out in the woods for no reason?” He laughs, leaning down to you. Before you can respond, he chuckles again. “That’s alright,” he steps back, “you just need a little… evidence.”

Loki closes his eyes, and lets himself shift into his true form: blue skin, dark green patterns across his biceps. He hears the tiniest gasp of amazement from you as the magic also heals his wounds and cuts (and hopes that he’ll hear more of those cute noises very soon).

When he’s done transforming, he opens his eyes and stares down at you.

Dear Norns.

He knew he was already taller than you in human form, but this was just delightful. You’re much tinier than him, staring up at his stature with those wide doe eyes of yours.

“You are-” you blink a few times in shock. “You are the Jotun prince.”

He smiles even wider. “That’s right.”

“And… I… just saved the Jotun prince.”

He starts laughing, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

“Clever girl.” He knows he’s downright cruel, teasing you just because you’re so cute. “And do you want anything in return for ‘saving the Jotun prince’?”

“Well, I don’t know-”

Loki walks closer to you, and stands between your legs as he drops his cloak to the floor and leans down, drawling his next words very slowly.

“You deserve something… special. Something downright… pleasurable as a reward for saving my life. Something that you’ll remember for the rest of yours.”

He chuckles darkly when your breath hitches in realization.

He wants to make love to you.

“What?”

He pushes you down on the bed, trapping you in with his large body as he takes your wrists in one of his hands.

“You’ll feel undeniable bliss. I’ll take you over and over and over again until I’m sure you’re truly satisfied, because you’re such a sweet little angel saving my life and cleaning me up and looking so fuckable.”

You mewl, no doubt keening from his dirty words. He cups your chin.

“All you have to do is say yes. You don’t even have to do anything~”

His thumb brushes over your quivering lips, and push into your mouth. Loki grins as you look up at him, nodding slowly.

“Use your words, angel,” he teases, pulling his thumb away from your mouth.

It takes you a few moments to catch your breath. “Okay…”

He wanted to make you beg. He wanted you to say please, please fuck me so he could flip you over like you weighed nothing and take you over and over again like you’d asked but the way you whimpered withered away the last of his patience.

He had to make you his.

Loki captured you into a passionate kiss, muffling every last sound your pretty lips made so that only he could hear. He pulled away only to push you down on the sheets again, forcing his tongue into your mouth as you twitch in his hold, unable to comprehend how dizzy you are from just a kiss.

The two of you pull away for air as his dark green irises watches your eyes glaze over with submission. He grins, unbuttoning his white button-up and tosses it elsewhere.

He grins as you stare at his chest. Your tiny hands reach for him, tracing over the markings and patterns.

Loki hisses, taking your hands in one of his. You whimper as he stares down at you.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, “Did that hurt?”

“No, no.” His voice softens as he leans in, kissing your nose gently, his other hand pushing your dress up your thighs. He kisses your cheek, then presses his lips against your ear. You shiver at his ice-cold breath.

“It doesn’t, angel. It’s just that if you keep doing that, I won’t be able to resist flipping you over and pounding you into the sheets until you’re dripping with my cum and you can’t think.”

He pushes his knee against your crotch, making you squeak like a pathetic little mouse. Loki grins.

“I will be doing that, mind you,” he teases. “But I simply have to get a taste of your pretty juices first~”

Your skirt bunches up against your twitching hips as Loki stares down at your dripping cunt.

“Oh," Loki chuckles. “You're already wet for me, angel, isn't that adorable~?"

You mewl, bashfully covering your face as he grins at your embarrassment.

“Stop teasing..."

Loki shakes his head, pouting in mockery. “Only if you stop being so cute when you're flustered. But until then…”

He places his hands on your thighs, pulling you closer to him as he lowers his face to your mound.

“... I'll enjoy fucking you until you submit to me.”

Your eyes widen as he licks your folds very slowly, and you whine shakily.

“Prince Loki..."

Loki grins, kissing your pretty cunt wetly and pushing his tongue into your dripping hole. And your helpless whimper of pleasure as he devours your pretty pussy whole is the cutest and most captivating noise he's ever heard.

He draws it out of you again, and again, and again, drinking every bit of your slick, even if poor little you are just getting wetter and wetter.

You're panting now, and Loki is equally as short of breath, only ever breaking away from you to watch your pretty face scrunch up so cutely. Loki licks his lips, nibbling on your thighs and making you squeak and tremble in his icy grip.

“You're such an adorable little angel," Loki grumbles. "Makes me want to eat you up like a little mouse, hmm?”

He holds you down firmly as your moans tickle his ears. The way your little hole squeezes around nothing is just so cute, he just has to stuff you full after he makes you come far too many times than you can handle.

“Aww,” Loki chuckles as you whimper breathily, thighs thumping helplessly against the bed. “Little angel can’t take it anymore?”

He brushes a blue finger against your dripping folds, sinking into your hole for the millionth time making you squeak and sob in sensitivity.

“P-Please…” you mumble, glazed eyes pleading for a moment of rest.

He sighs, forgetting you’re just a pure little thing having her first time, and gently scoops you into his arms to press a few kisses to your cheek and whispering your name.

“Have I thanked you enough already~?” He teases, and you nod, nuzzling into his hold though you shiver lightly.

Loki’s heart skips a beat. He feels you cling to him tighter and he feels your little ass grinding against his cock.

“Well,” he muses, “I believe my kingdom will be overjoyed to find that an angel like yourself saved their prince, hmm?”

“Huh?” you ask, still pleasure-drunk as you settle into his lap, as if you perfectly fit in his hold.

“I said,” Loki chuckles his icy breath tickling your face, “My kingdom would be overjoyed to find a pretty thing like you saved the royal prince, wouldn't they?"

“Mhm..."

“And they'll throw a week-long celebration...” he continues, trailing kisses from your cheek to your shoulder. “All for you~”

“R-Really?” you gasp as he begins sucking on your skin, sure to leave marks after. “A whole week? That's too much-!”

Loki laughs against your shoulder, holding your hips down so he can feel your hips grind against his cock. “Nothing is too much for a perfect little angel like you~"

Loki licks the bite mark he's so carefully placed on your skin, then looks up at your glazed eyes and twitching pout.

“Would you like to come back with me to the palace?"

The look of confusion and bashfulness across your face makes his cock twitch against your bare folds.

“Me?! With you?!"

“Do you abhor the idea of that?”

He knows he's being mean and he knows you don't hate the idea, but Loki just can't resist seeing you so embarrassed and stuttering to apologize.

“No! I didn't mean that! I was just surprised-"

Loki shakes his head with a little chuckle, and brings you closer to his face to kiss the crease between your eyebrows.

“I know, I know. I was just teasing."

“Don't be mean like that!”

Loki laughs darkly when you cross your arms.

In a flash, he’s got you on your hands and knees before your pretty head can even figure out what’s going on.

“And if I do, what are you going to do about it?”

You shiver at the dark growl in his voice.

You're so far deep in this haze all you can see is blue.

“Your highness-!”

Loki presses your chest against the bed, leaving your pretty ass on display, purely his for the taking.

“You’re just a little mouse that can’t hurt anything, hmm? Just so innocent, and weak, and ready to be ravished.”

A cold, thick finger traces your wet folds, and you whimper, burying your face in the sheets as he tickles your hole until you’re shaking with need.

“Maybe I’ll take you back home with me… and make you my wife.”

Loki shoves his finger all the way in, knocking the wind out of you because you swear you can feel him in your tummy.

“Your- Your wife?” You ask, voice higher and breathier.

“Yes~” he mocks your airy voice. “My pretty wife, who won’t have to get her pretty hands dirty ever again, who I’ll take care of, and protect, and fuck every single night.”

Loki curls his finger, reaching that sensitive little part in your cunt that effectively leaves you a mumbling, drooling mess on him.

When he’s gotten you wet enough, he draws his finger back (to his cute little angel’s momentary dismay) and forces your thighs apart with his body, the head of his cock twitching against your folds.

Loki will forever remember the gasp you let out when you feel just how big he is.

“Do you want to be fully mine? Do you want me to fuck this little hole of yours with my cock until you’re screaming for me?”

You whine at his dirty words, slurring something that sounds like a yeah, and he knows he’s got you exactly where he wants you.

“Really?” he chuckles, fingering your little hole one more time to slicken your folds. “Do you think I’ll fit~?”

And with the dirty wet noises that tickle his ears as he sinks all the way in he gets his reply.

“Oh?” Amused, he runs an icy finger up and down your bare back. “She can take it, after all. What a good girl~”

Loki barely gets the praise out before the prettiest whimpers fall out of your mouth like sweet honey, your poor cunt clenching down on him as your voice gets higher and breathier by the minute.

“Please-” you hiccup, turning to look at him with those pretty teary eyes.

His vermillion eyes stare you down cruelly as he grinds his hips down into your ass, making your head fall onto the sheets as you slur out a moan.

His cock feels so heavy inside you and by the way he laughs quietly you know he knows just how big he is compared to you.

And the way he pins you down harder lets you know he loves it.

“Oh, you just feel so good around my cock,” Loki groans, pulling back and thrusting into your leaking little pussy.

Poor you, already sensitive beyond imagination as this handsome blue prince ruins any other man for you with the way his cock stretches you out better than anyone ever will.

Not that anyone else will get the chance to. Loki’s decided it: he will take you home to the palace and make you his wife, and everyone will bow before their new princess.

Loki can't resist you any longer. He beats your poor cunt like the beast he is until you're whimpering and bucking against him helplessly.

“Feels... weird..." you shudder and gasp, tears leaking from your eyes as he sinks deeper into you, his huge cock hitting all the good spots inside you as your pleasure takes over your senses.

“Oh, is she close? Is this perfect little cunt going to come all over me?”

Loki's dirty words make you whimper and nod dumbly.

“Yeah," you sob.

Loki laughs at how blissed out his little saviour is and stops,pulling out slowly and groaning when he hears the sinful squelching as your juices drip onto the sheets. He turns you on your back, pinning your wrists to your sides, and captures your lips in his as he sinks into you once more.

“I missed these pretty lips," he smirks into the kiss, taking you for himself.

“Y-You just kissed me a few minutes ago..." You sigh dazedly, though you love the attention he's giving you.

“Still can't get enough of you. You're just so sweet~" Loki licks your lips, thrusting harder and making you squeak and link your fingers through his.

“Say my name."

“Loki...”

“Gods," he throws his head back, almost moaning at how submissive you sound. “Surrender to me, darling."

His hands snake down to the back of your thighs, lifting them and pressing them to your chest, quickening his pace.

Your eyes scrunch up as you nearly scream in pleasure, wriggling away as if you could escape from him.

“Surrender to me, angel~" he grins, kissing your neck and marking you up. “A pretty angel like you deserves to be pampered like this every day. Imagine that? You'll never have to lift a finger, I'll do all the work, I'll do all the fucking.”

Loki accentuates that last word with a hard thrust into your hole, making your eyes blur over with tears as you mewl helplessly in the Jotun prince’s tight grip.

“Awh, don't cry," he teases, kissing your nose when he gets a sinfully great idea.

He stops his movements, making sure he's buried all the way inside you before he flattens his tongue against your soaked cheek and licks your tears away.

You gasp, stunned for a moment before you keen and twitch helplessly, whining loudly as he does the same to your other cheek.

And your poor little cunt just clenches down again.

Loki growls, his primal instincts taking over because you're his ideal mate and you're nothing like he's ever seen. The sounds in the room get filthier and filthier as he loses control and rams into your poor hole.

“What do you say, angel?" Loki asks, letting go of your wrist before his hand makes its way down to your clit, rubbing the little bud and making you scream and tremble in his arms. “Be my- fuck- be my bride? Be my pretty little princess?”

“Yeah,” you mumble, chest heaving as your eyes flutter shut.

“Are you close?"

“Mhm..."

“Cute little mouse," he chuckles, pressing open mouth kisses to your neck as he rubs your clit. “Let go for me now, angel."

It’s a sight from heaven as you orgasm all over him, soaking his cock with your juices and helplessly thumping your thighs against the bed because Loki won't stop thrusting in and out of you.

Loki growls, pinning you to the bed. He stills, and you gasp at the feeling of his warm, thick cum filling you up. It makes you feel even more full than you already do and it makes you dizzy with even more pleasure.

It becomes too much for your melting brain to handle when he pushes deeper into you and you gasp, attempting to kick him away.

A firm, cold hand grabs your ankle and spreads you wider, and you whine shyly when he grins at you with a cruel glint in his eyes.

“Stay with me, darling," Loki teases, gripping your hips possessively and holding you still on his cock so he can finish filling you up.

It feels like hours before he breathes again, but it's only been seconds for him, already wanting another round with you.

But the prince resists, setting your sore legs down slowly and carefully sliding out of your cunt.

You sigh in exhaustion, but your breaths falters in embarrassment when you feel just how much he pumped into you, dripping out of your twitching folds and onto the bed.

A tiny drop even lands on your ass and Loki chuckles at your wide eyes, leaning down to kiss your lips and whisper a dirty promise that he'll fuck you down there too next time.

“Next time?” you ask, lips parting.

“Yes," he teases. " I've decided it, you're never leaving my side, my guardian angel~”

And he scoops you into his side, letting you rest before he has a few more rounds with your pretty hole— then he'll take you back home to the palace and convince you to stay. He'll show you the library. He'll let you lose yourself in the royal gardens all day if you wish! As long as you return to his chambers each night and let him please you the way you deserve to be.

But he's fallen for you already and the whole kingdom will burn in a blaze of sapphire dust if anything or anyone ever keeps him away from you.

[theladyismyshepard]

Hi there I haven't requested anything here in almost 2 years now and I won't lie I miss it, so if it's alright can I ask for Astarion and shadowhearts separate reaction to the Reader who is a magic user coming from a different world where magic is seen as a disease and those who have control of it are marked with a lightning like mark on their cheek

(Similar to the bearer mark from FF16)

I actually have a dusty old draft that's been collecting 2 years worth of cobwebs and it's a WIP that haunts me every time I see it when I open my drafts... and that just so happened to be a request of yours @adryanscott... so for you? Anything at all. The outline seems a little different, but bear with me

Tags: Mentions of abuse, torment, descriptions of chronic illness, Bearer enslavement canon to FF universe

Will You Be My Final Fantasy?

You were but a child when the magic lying dormant beneath your skin burst forth, crackling at your fingertips and ready to be cast. You were but a child when you yourself was cast away by your own parents, your entire world shifting upside down when you were sold off to the highest bidder. Gaia did not feel too much like home anymore, not when the people you had come to know as family and friends looked upon you with such disdain. The neck-breaking pace of which you had gone from carefree to chained was a shellshock that you were forced to adapt quickly to lest you learn the lesson of just how expendable you really were to your own people. At first, it had cut you so deep down that it pierced your soul.

Once the branding tattoo had marked the flesh of your cheek to signify the power brewing underneath, you were scorned. The people of Gaia thought you to be diseased and more monster than human. They feared your power and what you might be capable of, so they had come up with the idea of the bearer mark. Not only did it act as a red flag to warn others that you possessed natural magic and that you were owned, it dulled your powers in a painful way that left you with a permanent uncomfortable itch just beneath your skin. No amount of scratching or tearing away at the skin of your cheek would bring you relief, and at first, your struggle provided a great source of amusement for your enslavers until you began slacking on the quality of your duties.

As the years gave way to decades, the fiery fury that fueled your desire to see another day had slowly begun dwindling. You felt as if you yourself was an upturned hourglass, and with each grain of sand that flowed with time, your hope for something better faded with it. All you were living for was an end… an end to your torment, an end to your captors, an end to your miserable existence. You weren’t sure if you’d call yourself lucky or not that your Masters demanded back-breaking physical labor from you rather than casting spells at their convenience. With each draw of your magic, you felt a stiffening in your bones that brought with it a deep chill that was impossible to ward off. Maybe you were diseased…

The day had started as any other had in the past couple decades, with you rising in time with the sun to get prepared for a gruesome day of withering yourself away to nothing. As you glanced up to the sky to watch the first peeks of sunlight bleeding into the blanket of night, you couldn’t help the furrow of your brow when you noticed a small tear. Your lips parted, but as you took a step forward for a closer look to assure yourself that you weren’t hallucinating, there was an audible ripping sound as the tear in the sky widened into a large hole. Before you could even feel fear chill the blood in your veins, there was a gigantic ship soaring through, and across the horizon. You had never seen such a horrific-looking vessel that had long, flowing tentacles such as the one overhead at the moment, and your flight instincts kicked you into overdrive as it veered in your direction.

There was no time to register the long, fluid shadow of the tentacle hovering over you before it struck, and all you could do was watch on in horror as your hands began to disintegrate. First, you lost feeling in your fingers before the cracks broke apart your wrists, leaving nothing in its wake. The disintegration process didn’t take long to travel along the lengths of your forearms and up your biceps, and no amount of harsh gasps of air could pull enough breath into your lungs. You were fading fast. As your arms disappeared, you began to choke on the tightness in your chest before ash peppered your tongue and lodged itself along the walls of your throat. With a final gurgle, your eyes disintegrated and darkness enveloped you until there was nothing left.When you had awoken, you discovered yourself in a world where nearly everyone wielded magic. It was a culture shock that left you reeling, and even though you witnessed open displays of magic, even from some of your own party members, with no repercussions involved, you didn’t feel safe enough to expose yourself for what you were.

Shadowheart –

Even as you found yourself drawn towards Shadowheart, and felt yourself relating to the air of mystery (you understood better than anyone the need to bury the past and never let anyone see), you were so traumatized and so used to being seen as an animal to be used until broken that you could not speak the words. You were too fearful of being cast away yet again.

When Shadowheart had kissed you after revealing some of her own memories, you had tasted the bitterness of both the wine and of your own backstory on your tongue. It was the perfect moment to open up to the cleric, especially when you had never seen her eyes look so soft as they did when they gazed upon you at that moment. She had even asked you about your Bearer’s mark…but panic had seized control over any inklings of rationality you had left, and you had mumbled something about “everyone else had one” and “giving into the peer pressure”… The romantic atmosphere didn’t go any further than that, and you were grateful because the tightness in your chest proved too distracting to properly worship Shadowheart’s body. As you learned more and more of Shadowheart and who she affiliated herself with, you gauged other people’s reactions and deduced that her magic was frowned upon by many.

Her head never ducked beneath the weight of heated gazes sent her direction, and she never faltered at barbed words spat at her. You were in awe of how confident and self-assured she seemed in her worship, and you felt the connection between you two surpassing just your ability to relate. You admired Shadowheart to the point where you wanted to be more like her. You wanted to be free… But as you glanced between the woman you had come to care for and the shackled Nightsong, you couldn’t help thinking that Shadowheart was the true one in chains. To give blood, sweat, and tears your entire life and still have to fight through fire for any scraps of approval… it sounded too close to home for you. And if you yourself could never be free of the chains still holding you to Gaia, you would fight like hell to rid Shadowheart of hers.

You knew talking her down would prove challenging, but what you didn’t expect was how easily you had revealed your magic to the indignant woman. It was the accusation of you being clueless and ignorant spat so venomously at you that did you in. What do I know?! What do you know?! And it was the same moment your irritation boiled over that you remembered that she would never know if you refused to say something. Before she could turn her assault back onto the Nightsong, you sent a wave of your worst memories through your connection, and you were so overwhelmed yourself that you didn’t notice Shadowheart falter.

You can smell the leather of bootstraps as your bones snapped beneath heavy stomps. You can feel the sting of your open wounds rubbed with salts. You can hear the mocking laughter as your body writhes in a pool of your own blood. The stench of your boiled flesh was so pungent that you could almost taste it. There was a gnawing hunger that threatened to eat away at your stomach, and after a while, any thought of food would make you sick enough to dry heave. Through it all, there was the constant heartbeat in your cheek where the mark was tattooed. Sometimes you fear that the poison used in crafting the ink had seeped into your very pores and was burning you from the inside out. You were itchy, and so very stiff… And you couldn’t tell anyone. Keep your pain hidden. No one can help you. They’ll all hate you. You’ll be sent ba–

There were hands cradling your face, and the abrupt touch had you jolting out of your memories. Shadowheart was standing before you with tears welling up in her eyes and spilling down her cheeks. Concern and anger had flared across your connection as she glanced you up and down, desperately searching you for any lingering wounds or scars. Her eyes stopped on the lightning-shaped mark on your cheek, and you felt her thumb trace the skin below it, too hesitant to cause you additional hurt. You hiccuped as you became emotional at finally revealing the extent of your torment to the woman you loved. Your hands were shaking as you reached up to loosely grasp at her wrists, and she curled one hand around the back of your neck to bring your foreheads together.

“Never again,” Shadowheart swore thickly past her own tears, “No one will ever harm you again, not for this, not for anything…”

Your shoulders shook as an impending panic attack loomed over you.

You were taught to be ashamed of who you were, that you were less of a being and deserved the world’s spite just for being alive. You had watched people just like you call upon their magic one time too many, and the stiffness in their bones overtook them and morphed them completely into stone before withering away to dust. You were afraid of yourself for a very long time, and here this woman stood before you with nothing but love and sorrow on her face. Sorrow for what you had gone through, sorrow that you felt forced to hide from her, sorrow for you thinking you were anything less than perfect. She leaned up to place the gentlest kiss you’ve ever felt on your mark, and butterflies filled your stomach as your heart started racing.

“You have always been magnificent… I love you,” Shadowheart insisted earnestly, both of her hands now holding you close by the back of your neck, “And magic or no magic could make me need you any less, I assure you… Could you ever hate me for my magic?”

“Wh- No!” You rush to insist, but your shoulders deflate as her point reaches you… Maybe it was time to finally let yourself believe that you were really out of that place, and you never had to go back.

“I know what it’s like when something is too hard to let yourself believe… but you’ve helped me to see that there just might be the sweetest of rewards in doing so,” Shadowheart said before capturing your lips in a kiss intended to banish all doubt, and when she pulled away, she finally turned back to the Nightsong with nothing but sympathy in her heart.

You watched on in amazement as Shadowheart broke three sets of chains all at the same time.

— — — — — — — —

Astarion —

Despite the fact that a vampire had threatened to kill you in self-defense and still joined your party, you couldn’t bring yourself to fully open up. Each time his silky smooth words were close enough to reach you, your chest would seize up, keeping any and all secrets trapped within. As the weeks turned into months, you and Astarion had grown closer along the dusty trail. You had helped him to feel safe enough to confide in you about Cazador and the torments he had endured by his Master’s hand. You had felt your own misery and pain bubbling within your vocal chords, just begging to be released and revealed to the vampire. If anyone could understand the years of enslavement you had gone through because of your magic, it would be Astarion.

But throughout decades of cruelty, punishment, and humiliation, the one thing you never learned how to endure was being looked at as if you were something to be treasured rather than exploited. You knew where to cover when the blows started coming, you knew how to disassociate when the hunger set in, you knew what it was like to be more dead on the inside than on the outside… But you didn’t know how to react to any display of affection. How were you supposed to respond? You never quite learned how to convey compassion or how to accept it, and all you could do was curse yourself when you’d notice his shoulders slump the tiniest bit before his signature smirk was back in place to hide his own vulnerability.

But you had seen the smallest glimmer of how truly broken Astarion was, and now that you did, there was no unseeing it. Every sugary drawl, every deflecting answer, every flirtatious banter, it was all a facade, one that always seemed two steps away from crumbling. You wanted to help him, to fill in every fissure of his cracked heart with your presence until the very idea of Cazador was gone from his being, but you still felt too diseased yourself. When your fingers itched to reach out and comfort him when you’d notice the foggy haze of the past clouding over his eyes, you’d instead lift them to scratch at your burning bearer’s mark.

And bless him, Astarion had asked you about the tattoo one night after you had let him feed from you. You two were lying side-by-side as you gazed up into the vast blanket of stars, and there was a comfortable silence between you two that had only been broken by the question. He made no immediate comment even though you knew he felt you tense up next to him and you greatly appreciated it, especially knowing his penchant for starting trouble and watching others flounder in it. Before you could even attempt to think quickly on your feet, his hand had snuck down between your bodies to grab yours, and you were the one linking your fingers, squeezing his grip as the tension left your body. Only when he felt you fully relaxed did he assure you that that sounded like a topic better suited for another time. Your clasped hands never let go, even as you two fell asleep.

When your travels had brought the party to Baldur’s Gate, it was a chaotic mess with people wedged into any and every crevice. There were murderous cultists, sneaky thieves, and Astarion’s “sibling” spawns lurking about. The vampire tried his hardest to appear unaffected by the warnings, and he was successful to those on the outside looking in, but the tadpole connection was a deeper rooted relationship that proved nearly impossible to withdraw from. His emotions were a waged war, going back and forth and back again, and you so badly wanted to reach out and grab his hand to comfort him just as he did for you, but you had the same suspicion that this was a topic better suited for another time.

But you felt it, boy did you feel it through your connection… The same haunting feeling that clung to your bones, the chronic illness that stiffened your joints and left you too restrained in your own body, the horrific notion that you would never really belong to yourself, not ever again. Astarion’s back was rigid the entire way to camp, all traces of his charismatic aura gone. He was on edge, and would remain so forever until his Master was defeated, releasing him from the invisible chains still binding him. The rest of the party knew well enough to give him space (though everyone pretty much had their own problems they were in the middle of overcoming), but you would not leave him to wallow in the burning itch to go forth and rip, tear, kill…

You had the sense to bump up the urgency of seeking out Cazador’s lair and striking him down in Astarion’s name… but if he was as powerful as led to believe, and if there would be a chance of losing each other, that night wouldn’t be for Cazador, it would be for you and your love for Astarion, for him and his love for you. If he required a night of distraction to get him to the impending final showdown the next day, you would offer whatever he needed; If he needed blood, if he needed words, if he needed your body… With each gentle kiss that you placed on his skin, he seemed a little less further away. And as you watched him cum and was immediately brought to your own peak as well, you knew then that you would do anything to free this beautiful man.

You let that thought guide you as Astarion was forced under Cazador’s influence once more. The sight of him entrapped in the red beacon of his Master’s control had petrified you. To reach his full Ascension, Cazador had to absorb the special spawns’ life source, reducing them to a pile of ash, and you were paranoid with each attack he unleashed, each time he opened his mouth, that he would utter the spell to take Astarion away from you. When you could no longer withstand the mental torment, you raised your hand, and watched the magic crackle to life at your fingertips. Your cheek was burning, and you could see from your peripheral that your lightning-shaped mark was glowing, but you didn’t let it dissuade you. You were on a mission to save your lover, and you would use everything in your arsenal to do it, including your magic, even if it crystalized you in the process.

Your party members were thoroughly surprised to see you casting spells, but you couldn’t focus on that, not when Cazador was staggering on bended knee before attempting to rush back to his coffin. As Astarion dropped to the ground, he wasted no time in chasing after to peel the lid away before Cazador could begin healing himself. A weight lifted from your own chest when Astarion drove a dagger through his biggest nightmare over and over until his own sobbing pain began bleeding dry. He was free… and you will be, too…

As you stiffly knelt at Cazador’s dead body, right beside Astarion– always beside Astarion– you cupped his cheek with one hand, and grabbed the back of his neck with the other before bringing him into the sweetest of kisses. You scratched at the hairs at the base of his neck and before you could talk yourself out of it, you released all of your memories through your connection. You felt his gasp on your lips, but you pressed on, he deserved to know your biggest secret considering he shared his with you. He needed to know that you saw him… far deeper that he originally knew. You could taste his tears even after he pulled away.

“Oh darling…” Astarion whispered, his throat raw from screaming himself hoarse while boiling over, “I hate that you understand a little more than others… and I hate that such a beautiful soul like yourself has been bruised so heavily.”

You sagged into him before hugging him tightly. He began petting your hair and cooing praises into your ear, pressing an occasional kiss to your forehead every so often. You eventually craned your neck and caught his lips into a kiss, and if he couldn’t sense the love through it, you made sure to spread the warmth through your tadpole connection. His lips curled into a smile wide enough to break the kiss before he collected himself enough to pepper a handful of quick kisses onto your own bashfully grinning mouth.

“You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me–well…” His eyes momentarily cut down to Cazador’s body before meeting yours unwaveringly. “And I would continue to love you lifetimes after you were gone, only hoping you would return to me again someday.”

He dropped a reverent kiss to the back of your hand, brought you into one last searing kiss, and moved to stand, helping you up as he went. Astarion had a way of making you feel so safe and loved, even when exposing yourself, your body and your secrets. He would always assure you that he has his own skeletons in his closet… but at least they were finely dressed might he add.

[sophieinwonderland]

Systemscringe on Inner Worlds...

So, yes, it's true that singlets can have inner worlds too... but with that in mind, it should be immediately obvious that you can have complex inner worlds because singlets can also have maladaptive daydreaming which is exactly that.

And MADD has a high comorbidity with DID, and has actually been proposed by experts as a type of dissociative disorder.

Complex inner worlds in many DID cases is extremely well-documented in academic papers

Studies show 80%-90% of cases of DID present with alters being heard through "auditory hallucinations."

Communication between alters is incredibly common. Having an inner world to speak through makes it easier to focus on and interact with members of your system. Alters can talk through inner worlds. They can also talk without using inner worlds.

Estimates for DID by experts range from 1%-3% of the population. The problem is that you're attributing a reverse causation.

Getting a correct diagnosis of DID often takes years, while systems are instead often misdiagnosed with mood disorders, personality disorders or psychotic disorders.

The stigma doesn't exist because DID is a rare disorder. Rather, DID is rarely diagnosed because of the stigma. Because few psychiatrists are trained to treat it, many don't believe it exists at all, and for-profit pharmaceutical companies would rather people be diagnosed with a disorder that can be treated with pills, giving a financial incentive to oppose DID as a diagnosis.

Amnesia also doesn't need to be constant. It just needs to be beyond "ordinary forgetting." Many DID systems frequently remember some of their switches, and a goal of treatment is to tear down dissociative barriers to be able to increase this memory.

This is a common misconception I see. The problem with DID is that it's often misdiagnosed.

An alter you talk to in your head can be interpreted as an imaginary friend if you're a child, or a psychotic hallucination if you're an adult. And in both of these cases, a psychiatrist who isn't educated on dissociative disorders, which is most of them, may try to convince the patient that the voices aren't real which worsens dissociative symptoms.

Being able to communicate with alters isn't nearly as helpful for diagnosis when that communication is attributed to something entirely different.

Communication also isn't always consistent in systems that do have communication. Sometimes alters go dormant or just can't be reached for period, and it's not clear why this happens. Sometimes certain alters can only communicate with certain other alters. This makes the whole memory gap thing way more difficult to navigate.

And the alters may not even want to tell what's happened if you can reach them. That's especially common for trauma holders.

And sometimes, dissociative amnesia isn't just inter-identity amnesia, and the alter who experiences something can ALSO forget it.

Basically, there are a ton of factors that make communication and memory incredibly complicated with DID that varies vastly from one system to the next, and I realize I've only scratched the surface here, describing what I've heard from systems I know and what I've read in case studies in academic literature.

[robins-warudo]

Lamia HRT Prelude - Memories I

She collapsed.

I remember very little concretely of this time.  The only thing clear is that she collapsed.  Worked the field, stood up, legs gave out.  My wife screamed.  Overreacting, she thought at the moment.  My wife helped me.. No, her.. back up and brought her inside to rest.

My wife berated her, which the tall-man took as light-hearted at first, but slowly it descended into an argument.  For someone of her former standing, the elven valedictorian of our magic school, my wife had been talking of black magic a lot lately, but.. they trusted each other. 

After one rant and before the next tirade, the tall-man changes her tune and smiles.  She touches the tip of one of my wife’s ears, then trails that finger down until her palm can caress her cheek, then says her piece.  She knows her lover wouldn’t do any sort of black magic without say.  This was simply yet another conversation where the tall-man tries to assuage my wife’s fears of her growing old first, that it was natural, that it was a life well spent already and she looked forward to however much was left.  The latest such conversation of many.  Surely, nothing would-

I hack blood out of a throat that feels too wide, past teeth that feel too numerous and too sharp, shake copious amounts of it off of my arms, off my head, off my..  Something else.  Not legs.  I felt something else.

I opened my eyes. Despite having only torchlight, my vision was clearer than it had been in years, and my wife stood in front of me.  Much smaller than I remembered.  Sweating buckets and short of breath, telltale signs of using much magic, alongside her pupils changing back to normal from strange keyhole shapes.  I reach out to her and flinch before I make it.  The dark arms in my periphery weren’t merely bloodstained and dripping - black diamond scales lined the back of my hand, going all the way down my arm.  I see green band patterning - familiar, the tall-man’s memory says, her hometown’s local snakes having similar - and it’s her revulsion that drives me to look back at my wife instead of this body.

Black claws and green hands softly caress my wife’s face, my middle finger first reaching for the tip of her ear like always, though now I need not trace the ear for my palm to reach her cheek. The gesture calms her from an incoming panic, telling her that her love is still here, despite having just realized what awful act her fear has driven her into.  Words pass between us, but I recall few.  What I do know is this - this was the point of no return.  Even if we deluded ourselves into thinking we could still live civilian lives, as long as I stayed out of view.

The dungeon became our home.

And I remember the day we broke fon-

“Robin!” a familiar voice startles me out of our shared daydream.  I look out and see myself eating.  I go to look at my human hand but my eyes are not under my control - ah, right. I’m not fronting.  Clarity, my near-lifelong headmate, just spoke to me aloud in the silence of the car.

“Robin, I know your memories are a lot sometimes - especially as we make our way to this Hyper City to make your dream real - but you’re dominating the train of thought with it again. It’s not even the memory itself, it’s that you’re clearly wallowing in it feeling bad.”

‘R-Right,’ I stammer, assigning my voice an avatar in headspace - in my meekness, rather than my ideal body, I’m identical to our shared physical body, a round brown-haired mess of a trans girl, scratching the back of my head.  ‘Sorry, everyone.’

A murmur of “Alrights” and similar feelings, from awake and dormant headmates respectively, washes over me.  A soft breeze of rose petals rushes to my side and a pale hand touches my shoulder comfortingly.

‘You still wanna do this?’ its owner asks - a somewhat older Ruby Rose, one of my fictive headmates - second only to Clarity in making sure I’m comfortable pushing forward with this if I so desire.  ‘This always has been your choice.’

‘Yeah,’ I answer, both her and Clarity’s no doubt similar sentiments. ‘We wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.  I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t questioning myself, though.’ I admit, shrinking back from Ruby’s touch sheepishly.

“Remember how scared you were of starting your social transition to womanhood?” Clarity follows up between final bites. “Or when you first realized you weren’t human?  Or how about when you finally realized you weren’t alone in this thick skull after years of me pounding on it?  All in that order?” she swallows.  “Point is, you’re still scared of change. And while that needs to be addressed, it’s worked well so far as a barometer of what is and isn’t real.  You’re on the right track, and you know it, and I know it.”

She projects an avatar into headspace to lean forward in front of me, the near-clone of the body my avatar imitates, but with further feminine features and much silkier, better cared-for hair.  “One last time.  You want this.” Practically spoken as a statement rather than a question, but I answer.

‘Yes!  I want to do this!’

“To do what?”

‘I want to be a lamia!  I want to be me!’

Clarity and her avatar smile, and the latter pats my head before it dissipates.  “Good girl.” A hug from Ruby follows, and she zooms back into her room upstairs in another cloud of petals before Clarity resumes the drive, and subsequently our playlist.  Voracity is next on shuffle, ironically, the song that makes me remember what came next.  Clarity goes to skip it, but I ask her not to.  

I think of what’s coming once we get to this magical city I’ve heard so much about, based on all the stories of others becoming their true nonhuman selves.  Despite the memories playing before me, I smile, and Clarity smiles with me.

I’ll face this head-on.  With everyone’s help.

Although as we approach and pass under the fabled archway, the familiar pit of hesitation forms in my stomach, thinking of those same memories.

If this is reality, if I can become capable of even a modicum of what I did then.. am I something worth becoming?

[julietpricee]

Day 5 - Sharpuary (Dungeon)

18+ only!

This fic will always be known as 'The crossover you didn't know you needed'...

TW - Smut, explicit language

It was a quiet Friday evening in The Three Broomsticks with only a few people inhabiting the pub. The majority of students were spending their free time studying for their upcoming O.W.L.s so your recent shifts had thankfully been a lot easier and much, much quieter. 

Sirona joined you behind the bar, after taking her break, slapping a thick book atop it with wild eyes. “Muggles are freaks,” she whispered.

“What?” You replied swiftly, bursting into laughter. 

Sirona slid the book over to you. “My muggle friend lent me this, and said it’d change my life.”

“Fifty shades of grey?” You read out loud.

“Pure filth.” Sirona giggled. “Take a look.”

You leaned your back against the bar, flicking the book open to a random page, clearing your throat as you began to read aloud. "He undoes the buttons of his jeans and slowly pulls his jeans down, his eyes on mine the whole time. He leans down over me and, grasping each of my ankles, quickly jerks my legs apart and crawls onto the bed between my legs.” 

You look up into Sirona's eyes and begin to chuckle. “This is just porn Sirona.”

“It’s literature!” She corrects you, hitting you playfully with a rag. 

You look back down at the book, scanning ahead slightly before reading aloud once more. “He thrusts his finger inside me, and I cry out as he does it again and again. He palms my clitoris, and I cry out once more. He pushes inside me harder and harder still.” 

“I hope he took you out for dinner first.” A gruff voice called out from behind you.

You threw the book back at Sirona in embarrassment as you spun around to see Aesop’s smug face chuckling at you as he perched himself on the bar stool in front of you.

“It’s Sirona's book, not mine!” You pleaded whilst your face turned a bright shade of red. 

The two of them fell about laughing as you timidly started to pour Aesop a pint of his favourite ale with your head hung low. Aesop was one of your regulars, he’d often sit at the bar to keep you company on a Friday and Saturday night. He was a big flirt but completely harmless and rather handsome, so you definitely didn't mind.

“Go on then Sirona, pass it here,” Aesop said through a thick exhale. 

Sirona slid the book to him, raising her eyebrow at you curiously. He took one look at the cover before turning just as red as you did, realising what book you were reading from.

“What’s the matter Sharp? Can’t even make it past the front cover?” You teased him.

He grinned to himself before pushing the book back to Sirona. “I’ve actually already read it.” 

You glared at Sirona who matched your look of surprise. “Bullshit” Sirona spat at him with a wide smile. 

Aesop awkwardly scratched the back of his head and took a big swig of his beer. “Yeah… I confiscated it from a student a few years back and curiosity got the better of me.” He scoffed before admitting “I read it in one sitting.”

Both you and Sirona fell about laughing. “You’re kidding right!?”

“Grey just felt relatable to me, what can I say?” he replied, giving you a flirtatious wink. 

Sirona rolled her eyes. “That’s my cue to leave.” She walked from behind the bar leaving you and Aesop alone as she made her way around the pub, talking to the few customers it had. 

“How has your day been anyway Aesop?” You asked him whilst starting to wipe the bar down.

He took another sip of his beer before answering you. “Ah you know, same old, it’s thankfully quiet and uneventful in my dungeon.”

“Your dungeon?” You inquire curiously, leaning towards him across the bar. 

Aesop chuckles a little embarrassed. “Nothing like the dungeon in that book.”

“Well, that’s a shame.” You smile at him flirtatiously.

Aesop matches your smile and places his hand over yours, stroking his thumb gently across your knuckles. “That doesn’t mean you can't have any fun down there.” 

His touch ignited something lying dormant inside of you, changing your entire persona. His eyes were hungry, but you were practically starved, screaming silently for him to fuck you right there on the bar.

“I think I’d like to see this dungeon,” you confess in a rush of confidence. 

“When does your shift end?” 

After helping Sirona close the pub and without telling her a word, you sneak down to the Hogsmeade entrance to meet Aesop, successfully avoiding her motherly lecture. When Aesop first started showing an interest in you, Sirona pulled you aside to warn you about him. She explained how the students were terrified of him because of his stern and gruff persona, but the more you got to know him, the more you realised it was all a facade to intimidate weaker souls. Sure he was strict and dismissive at times, but he was also witty and charming… and so, so handsome. 

The walk down to Hogwarts felt oddly intimate. He wrapped his scarf around you, submerging you in his musky scent and walked close enough to you that your hands constantly brushed against each other. He shared more about himself and his job at Hogwarts and made sure to ask you questions about your life. It was the best date you’d ever had… and it wasn’t even a date.

Aesop ushered you through the castle, being careful not to be seen by any stray students or lurking professors. Since it was so late, the castle corridors were thankfully almost completely empty. Soon enough, he brought you into a large classroom filled with cauldrons and workstations, taking your coat and removing his scarf from your neck, hanging them up alongside his own.

“Welcome to my dungeon,” he announced, shutting the door behind you.

You took a few steps into the room, stopping at a workstation to look around and take in your new surroundings. You suddenly felt a gentle presence behind you as Aesop pressed his chest against your back. He softly moved your hair to one side, before placing his large hands on your hips. His mouth then found its way to your exposed neck, leaving sensual kisses from your collarbone up to your ear. 

“Like I said, there’s plenty of fun to be had here,” he whispered to you. 

You quickly spin around, leaning your back against the workstation as Aesop moves his hands to either side of you, effectively trapping you in front of him. You practically fuck the man with your eyes as you stroke your fingers up his arms, and let them finally rest around the back of his neck. 

“I’ve been thinking about kissing those lips from the moment I met you.” You admit to him.

He smirks, enjoying the newfound effect he has on you. “Well then, I better not keep you waiting any longer.”

Without hesitation, Aesop leans in and plants a quick, gentle kiss on your unexpecting lips, teasing you to no end. His coarse hand firmly grasps the side of your face before he pulls away to reveal an enormous grin plastered across his face. You feel his long thumb run softly against your cheek and practically watch a fire ignite in his eyes as he leans back in to kiss you with an even deeper desire. 

Your fragile skin is attacked by his sharp stubble as he moves in closer, further immersing himself in the steamy exchange. His free hand finds its way to your rear, giving it a firm squeeze and encouraging a gentle moan to escape your lips. You feel him smile as he presses his lips harder against yours. 

Soon enough, he pulls away to allow you a breath but rests his forehead against yours. For a brief moment, he closes his eyes and you see him savour the moment for himself. It was obvious that the poor man was touch-starved and this simple makeout session was enough to move him. His eyes softly opened and locked with yours as both of your arms remained wrapped around each other. 

“...I don’t want to do this here,” he hesitated, “not like this.”

You offered him a kind smile, understanding his decision. “Ok,” you replied matter-of-factly. “I’m free next weekend, I think you should buy me dinner.”

Aesop chuckled. “I’d like that very much.”

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53448181/chapters/135539740

[topgunruinedme]

Chapter 3: A night in acid wash jeans - Part one

Summary:

After a rough day in training where classes are cut short and some hurtful words are shouted, Jake finds himself avoiding the Hard Deck and seeking out another bar to drink away his sorrows. He forgets that there's a reason they go drinking in pairs.

Series: His Tropical Depressions

Book Summery: So I present you; Cyclone accidentally adopting the Daggers. Dabbles of Cyclone taking care of or protecting his kids.

Read on Ao3

Word count: 3k

He relaxed with a sigh allowing his muscles to uncoil as he tipped his head back on the couch, fingers absently scratching against his jean clad thigh as he took a moment to enjoy the silence of his house. There was no yelling, the air was unusually dormant as it lacked the sound of jets taking off that he had long ago learnt to suppress as background noise. There were no fights he had to handle, no one calling him away from his desk for his attention and there was certainly no Maverick to match to ensure the little gremlin didn't burn down his base. Just pure silence. 

He placed his reading glasses on his nose as he grunted, sitting up properly lifting his head from where it was resting as he leaned against the end of the couch placing his cup of steaming tea on the small table next to the arm. His book was patiently waiting where it had been since he got back from the meeting all those months ago, face down with a receipt being used as a bookmark barely peeking out of the pages as it sat waiting to be reopened. 

It wasn't often that he got the day off, being a Vice Admiral and an Airboss on top of it the amount of work that was involved in his positions made it rather hard to arrange time off, let alone a holiday. It had gotten worse since Kazansky assigned the Daggers and Maverick as a permanent position on his base, they alone filled his desk with paper let alone the other work he received from Admirals and Lieutenant alike. He had sick days to assign, abscesses to approve, budgets to assign, check to complete, a base to run and somewhere under all of that he had to go home and get a few hours in before he arrived back and base and unfortunately it wasn't always his best case. Guiltily sometimes he crashed on the couch in his office for a few hours before changing into a new uniform stashed away in the Instructors lockerroom pre-pressed and continued the next day on pure caffeine. It was called a compromise, he sacrificed sleep to finish his work in order to keep the base running. He already knew that Sol was taking bits and pieces from his desk when he wasn't looking, not that he hadn't noticed that the small chunk of files had disappeared. He appreciated the man attempting to help him but he also knew that the man had his own family to go home and take care of. He couldn't ask him to stay late and help. 

Unfortunately his schedule was impossibly booked out most days, he had meetings scheduled on top of meetings, and most days if he did get home it wasn't until the early hours of the morning. 

Which was exactly why he was salvaging today, trying to ignore the dread forming in his stomach stubbornly at the amount of paperwork that will be waiting for him in the office when he returned, or how many meets he would have to rearrange and deadlines he would have to change to accommodate for being one day behind in his work. Instead he tried to enjoy his first day in…well, he wasn't entirely sure. It had been well before the daggers mission, and before that had been that stupid convention up in DC where he had to attend meetings back to back for three days only to listen to Cain crap on about his drones, which had later failed spectacular in front of the entire brass when he tried to demonstrate their use. He had taken joy out of that, it was the highlight of his trip really. But a holiday or well…a day off was well long overdue. He could almost feel his ulcers take a breath and relax slightly. 

He didn't expect it really, he got up this morning with the intention to work. He had 12 meetings today and two classrooms to oversee. He had gotten dressed in his uniform and driven all the way to base and managed to get to his office before Solomon had ambushed him. The man had stopped him with a determined look and ordered him off his own base, not listening to any of his excuses about the work he would miss as the man practically dragged him out of the still thankfully empty base as his best friend dropped him off at his car. “The world can survive 24 hours without you Beau, enjoy it” Sol had told him with an amused smile, he wasn't exactly pleased when Sol had leaned over taking the files he had been intending to take home and finish and told him to go home and relax. He wondered how much his friend was wishing he was back on base after filling in for him on one of his more relaxed days, thankfully it wouldn't be too brutal on the man. Hopefully. 

There was truly no winning, he knew he was a little bit of a workaholic, his fingers twitched slightly by his side at the thought of the paperwork he had fully intended of finishing was taken from him. It had been so long since he had truly had a day off without doing something work related during it and he wasn't entirely sure what to do. The day was dragging on and he was running out of things to do to distract his mind. So he tried to enjoy it, he had dressed down into a pair of jeans and a loose t-shirt that he would usually wear to bed enjoying the day the light material allowed the sun front he window to peek through the fabric and warm his skin ad he leaned over the arm of the couch and picked up his book fingering the bookmark sliding it out between the pads of his fingers and the cover as his gaze dropped to the beginning of the page and started to read, enjoying the quiet chipping of the birds outside his window where a bird had made a nest on his neighbor's tree a few weeks ago. He let himself relax into the fantasy world of his book as he occasionally shifted the book into his other hand to reach out for his cooling cup of tea sipping at it as he grew absorbed into the printed words on the page. 

He had been trying to finish the book for a damn age. He had made the mistake of picking it up from the bookstore in the airport back in June when he had to participate in the new jet launch that the brass has strongly suggested he attended, which admittedly had been a cool experience but he had barely made his way through the book during the plane ride where it had been left abandoned in his suitcase until he landed back in Miramar where it had been placed on his side table, forgotten. 

He appreciated the way the book smoothly transitioned from scene to scene, the fact he hadn't read it in months hardly hindered him as he quickly fell into understanding of what was happening. Miss Elisabeth and Mr Darcy . Yes, how had he forgotten how painfully obvious they both were. His nose screwed up momentarily as he quickly backtracked and reread the line, they couldn't be serious. He had suffered through this entire book for these two blind sided idiots to confess and they had sprung this on him? Christ it was like watching Avolone and Lennox all over again. If he wanted to suffer through his painfully thick pinning he would have just stayed on base. He rubbed the bridge of his nose grumbling quietly as he allowed himself to scan the paragraph again. 

Rain, a dramatic atmosphere, tears and the only main male lead in the book who meant a damn, and she was so painfully blind to it all. He read as Mr Darcy bore his heart to her, his painful awkwardness stinting him as he tried to express his feelings towards her and her family as he all but knelt down on one knee. 

“From the very beginning—from the first moment, I may almost say—of my acquaintance with you, your manners, impressing me with the fullest belief of your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain of the feelings of others, were such as to form the groundwork of disapprobation on which succeeding events have built so immovable a dislike; and I had not known you a month before I felt that you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry." 

His heart ached at Elizabeth's agony as she realized in the moment she denied him that she was utterly blindly in love with him. Realized that her weakness for Mr Darcy would be her downfall.

A marriage proposal, how preposterous. How utterly romantic. 

She loves him, so deeply, so gut wrenchingly. He could almost feel it, reaching off the page as it tried to engulf him. 

He jerked slightly with a swear as his gaze darted up from the book as his phone vibrated on the table. He had been so engaged in the scene he hadn't realized that the sun had started biting at his skin or that his once steaming tea had long gone cold. His knees started to ache from his seated position and his lack of movement. He hadn't realized how long he had been here. His breath shuttered slightly as he pulled himself back to the world of the living placing the bookmark between he pages trying to ignore the grief of walking away at such a pivotal moment resisting the urge to let himself finish the chapter as he reached down and grabbed his still ringing phone placing the book to the side on the couch cushion. 

He frowned slightly at the name that was written across the screen, he slid his thumb across the screen and pulled the phone up to his ear. Even on his day off he couldn't escape the daggers. He leaned back taking a balanced breath feeling his heart match a steady rate as he silently did his mini meditations again trying to suppress the anxiety of his work again now that he had been so rudely reminded of it. He reached for his tea, frowning slightly at the cold touch of the mug and took a sip grimacing at the taste before stubbornly swallowing it and placing it back on the table, reminding himself to tip it down the sink after the call. 

“Admiral Simpson” he answered, waiting patiently for a reply only for his brows to furrow, frowning as the line stayed silent beside the slight audible wheeze that was being carried over the line. Has something happened on base? A fight? A malfunction? Surely Solomon would have told him, or maybe he was so busy arranging things that he hadn't had the chance. Seresin hadn’t been in medical school yesterday so something must have happened this morning. “Lieutenant Seresin” he called out, reminding them that he was the one who had in fact called him. Worry started to form in his gut swirling uncomfortably with the dread which had grown to an unfortunate mass. Something wasn't right. 

“Sir?” the worlds were slurred unnaturally, so unlike the normally controlled man. It sounded confused, disorientated almost as if he was questioning the Admiral himself. “Ah shit-” the younger man cursed, there was the sound of something breaking and being ground into the ground slightly as the man caught his breath which came out in a painful wheeze. “I was meant to call Javy” Seresin muttered under his breath absently, seemingly confused. 

Something was definitely wrong here, he had never seen the man in such a state to disregard the respect of ranks, not even when the man had been suffering a high fever and forced to go home by Maverick. The only disrespectful thing he had ever seen the kid do would be calling Maverick ‘Pops’, he had seen the kid respect and carefully toe the line of respect and disrespect with Cain and other Admirals over the years but he had never crossed it. He had never wanted to see the state the man would have to be in to disregard rank, to drop all pretense of respect and actively swear at an Admiral . 

Something was wrong, it was only 11am there was no way the kid was drunk. It was far too early for most of the bars to be open and he knew Seresin was responsible tending to stick to only one beer while at the Hard Deck (from what Penny tells him) and the had to be under a considerable amount of stress for him to forget that Machado wasn't even in Miramar presently. The man had left two days ago to return home for the birth of his godchild, he remembered the request being added to his pile of files, he had taken the chance signing it before he filly read the paper, at that point he was taking any chance he got to get rid of a dagger for a time even if it was only one of them. At the time sending a dagger away meant one less to handle or stress about and a whole week has seemed like a blessing. 

Now he was starting to regret it. He certainly wasn't a fan of the sound of Seresin slur, his mind rushing through other reasons the man could be so disoriented so early in the day. He assumed that whatever was causing the younger man to slur was also the reason for his painful wheezing. 

“Where are you Seresin?” he asked as he stood up from the couch moving towards the door where he had left his running shoes this morning before sliding them on, placing the phone between his shoulder and ear as he tied up the laces. He had been glad he chose to wear something easy and comfortable today; he didn't want to waste time having to go and change. 

“Wha-why?” the line cracked, and fell silent as he waited to be addressed only it never came. Head trauma then he decided, if Seresin had dropped rank enough to be talking to him casually as if they had known each other for years then there was definitely something wrong with his head. They may know each other through the chain of command but they did not know each other on a personal level and certainly not enough to be addressed so forwardly. 

He briefly wished that the man was drunk, it would be far easier to handle. Instead he took a  deep breath as worry caused his stomach to flutter at the out of character behavior. 

“Because I'm coming to get you,” he explained patiently, as he shrugged on a jacket. Seresin was clearly spacy, he wondered if he should grab a first aid kit before deciding he could always drive him to a hospital if it’s that bad. He grabbed his keys from the bowl on the counter as he opened his door quickly locking it behind him with a twist of his key. 

“You don't have to do that, s-sir” Seresin protested, only for something to crash over the line and a small whimper followed it with a keen whine of pain. Was someone else there with the kid? Was Seresin still in danger?

His brows furrowed as he opened the door to his truck and climbed inside. “Are you injured?” Other than the obvious head and chest injury. There was no way he was leaving this kid wherever he was, the 28 year old was clearly not in the right mind space to be able to take care of himself, let alone know where he was. He refused to leave him in a situation while the kid was compromised and unable to make rational decisions. He was his pilot, his subordinate, it was his responsibility to take care of them. Even if it meant going to find one like a wild goose chase on his rare days off. The engine rumbled as he pulled out of his driveway driving towards the center of town. 

There was a moment of hesitation before there was a small “Yes”, it was a small admission almost as if the younger man was ashamed of the fact. 

“Then I'm coming to get you. I'm already on my way, kid but I need you to stay on the phone with me okay? I need you to go to your maps and share your location with me so I can come find you kid”. He listened carefully as Seresin moved, letting out a pained hiss, fabric moving as he adjusted to fiddle with the phone. 

Christ these kids would be the death of him, his heart was already hammering in his chest as he waited impatiently for the message to come through. Phone balancing on the centre console as he glanced over as the screen lit up. The wheezing sounded worse, almost wet. His jaw clenched at the address, he wasn't far. What the hell was the kid doing in that part of town?

So much for a day off.  

“I’m coming kid, just hang on for me alright? I'm only a few minutes away” he waited for a few seconds with bated breath but there was no response. “Kid?” his stomach dropped as he glanced back down at the address before speeding up as he turned onto the road, he knew that there was an old bar in that area and by the sounds of it the younger man must be nearby because as far as he was aware there was no other reason to be in that part of town besides the piece of shit hole in the wall. “Seresin? Answer me, that is an order Lieutenant".

He swallowed thickly with unease reaching over to connect the call to his car via bluetooth hoping that perhaps the man was just talking too lowly for him to pick up on speaker. Anxiety climbed as the phone took a brief moment to connect to the car, “Talk to me Seresin”. The line was far too silent. 

Jake sounded disoriented, “What?” It sounded like something was shuffling around “Cyclone?”.

“I'm here kid, talk to me”. Thank fuck. He let out a controlled relieved exhale out of his nose, hands tensing around the wheel briefly before navigating his way through the road. That head injury must have been more than he thought it was, had the kid forgotten he was there? He was too spacey for it to be safe. He hadn't thought it would be that bad, sure the man was confused and slurring but he had a bad feeling of what he might find. 

“About what?”

“Anything kid,” he would listen to the kid talk about pain dry at this point. He really didn't like the way worry settled in his stomach, or the way he felt the urge to speed up when he knew fully well that he was already doing the speed limit. When had become so attached to these pilots to drag such a strong reaction out of him, for him to become so…protective of them. The idea of finding who ever did this to the younger man brought him far too much satisfaction than it should since he was only the man’s supervisor. “I want to make sure you stay awake” he didn't mention that there was a lingering feeling of terror that if the man went silent again he might not be able to get him back. The led in his stomach felt heavier with each delayed response “I need to make sure you don't have a concussion alright? You ended to stay awake for me”

“Yes sirrr ”

“Good job kid, ok. Hit me with your worst. Tell me something ”

“Did you know…did you know that Hawaii was a state…”

[iceiclehorned]

From the moment that first interaction unveils itself, snowballing into something deeper than it ever should have, the curse of emotional attachment carves deep into the heart of the unyielding woman. Horrific, the way the world taunts her like this. It is nothing like her history, that ingrained fight or flight reflex she trained herself to keep barren until it was needed. That exercise of constant restraint, holding back even when it isn’t needed. Perhaps the fear of scaring away her prey was enough to keep that monster within dormant, just long enough before she chooses to strike.

Such carnal desires would hypothetically be seen in an animal, a predatory creature with an unwavering, hungry nature. Is it natural for one to be so sharp with their gaze toward one they care about? To treat them like they are helpless, in need of taking away for the rest of their lives? It was a miracle she possessed the power to keep a person within her claws. Her heart was raw and her love was unforgiving — could one even call possession “love”? Deep down, there was a wariness about feeling an attraction toward another person.

She knows her inner world is dark, blurred between black and grey, every step she takes leads her to another part of that cursed land. There was something almost beautiful while being in pain, especially when it is administered by somebody she craves so deeply. That yearning was her curse. When that attention is being given in a big dose, it causes a rift to sear the cold walls that caged her soul within that pale form. Sometimes, she would catch herself almost hurting. Was it wrong to be so needy and protective?

Was it natural to hate the sight of someone you love so close to another? That close, intimate insinuation only made her angry, with the intent to prove a point to the defiant individual she called her lover. Own all the freedom they may, they will never escape the eye of the predatory woman by nature that captured them in the first place. Playing that natural game, otherwise known as “The Hunt” was the biggest thrill one could administer their lover, even if the ending was always the same. After all, having that sugar-coated possession of a person you sought to claim and taint was far too thrilling for a Hunter.

Skin being revealed, bruised with the branding of her adoration and sickened need to keep her partner right where she needed them. Does she need to tie them down physically, keeping them spread out for her enjoyment? Could that determined light within ever melt, becoming a puddle of vulnerability? The tables rarely ever could be turned on Acheron, rather, the turn of events would leave her taken aback. A person with such a bold spirit could eradicate that assumption of the weaknesses that plague one’s mind.

Envy lived within her, no matter how hard she tried to shake the feeling. The hatred and hurt one felt from being unable to build a real, stable and consistent, long-lasting relationship with even one person was an impossibility for the likes of her. Destined to be a lone wolf, perhaps? Or too scared to take that leap of emotional intimacy? The only thing she knew how to do is be as honest as she could be, even if it burned. That adventurously, yet educational experience on Penacony, one that was paired with the blatant showcase of what true trust looked like. Was it pathetic to struggle against the odds?

Her mind was then made up. Where would the fun be if there was no struggle to conquer and no hunting to be done? What would be left if she didn’t have the chance to go against a person who could challenge that darkened spirit, scratching an itch that needs to be put in place before it festers over? Bite marks deeply sunk into the plump skin of her inner-thighs with the slick film soaking the bed her body had been placed upon, her hair sprawled out in a decorative fashion, with her nails digging into the mattress. The stimulation, the heat and the closeness to another was enough to leave her with that very weakness she once utilised to get her own way, at least until that opening makes itself available, trapping her prey underneath her, only to start marking it firmly, presenting with the same level of passion that had been bestowed upon her body just moments before.

[camels-pen]

pet of time

Summary:

Is there anything better than cats? Yes, a really good blob [PIANO NOISE]

Or

Vlad makes a friend. Sort of.

based on @mossy-covered-bones' prompt "Vlad gets a pet that ISNT a cat"

Ao3 Link

Someone was knocking at his door. Rather frantically too.

Vlad glanced at the open curtains, then at his Sudoku, only just started, and his steaming coffee and eggs.

He turned invisible.

The knocking paused for a few moments and Vlad set down his pencil and fork. He watched the window and saw an unfamiliar man peering through the pane, standing rather stiffly and staring directly at the plate of food on the table.

Drat, he should’ve turned his food invisible too. 

Or, better yet.

A duplicate split off from him and flew through the glass into the man’s chest. Vlad relaxed, fading into the visible spectrum and getting back to his breakfast routine.

He mindlessly kept an ear open, waiting for the sound of footsteps walking away or a verbal all clear as he made scratches in the paper, trying to figure out one of the squares in the bottom row.

His duplicate flew back out of the man’s chest, through the window, and right into the mahogany table. 

Vlad sighed, dabbing his mouth with a napkin. “Care to explain yourself?”

The duplicate didn’t answer. It disappeared with a puff of smoke.

Vlad’s eyes sharpened and he snapped at glare out the window.

The man jerked unnaturally, pulling his arm back before punching through the pane. Then, from the man’s chest emerged a flash of green zooming through the window and stopping right in front of him. It was a blob ghost—a small one at that. It was barely the size of Vlad’s palm, and seemed to have a permanent furrow to its eye ridges, though Vlad didn’t exactly know what he did to make this particular blob so upset with him.

“There is a door, you know.” He waved a hand. “As well as a numerous amount of walls and windows you could easily phase through,” he said pointedly.

The blob whistled something, the tone as if it were grinding its teeth, if it had any.

Vlad laughed. “You can overshadow, but you can’t turn intangible? What kind of fool do you take me for? It takes infinite amounts more energy to suppress a human’s will than it is to get through brick and wood.”

The blob whistled at him, nodding its head back out the window. He floated towards it, a bit off the ground to avoid the glass shards, and stared out at the blob’s vessel.

Now that Vlad was paying more attention, the man outside the window was in a robe and wearing fuzzy pink slippers, fast asleep on his lawn. “I suppose going for someone who was sleeping would be easier. Not much of a will to overpower if it’s dormant.” He scowled. “This is going to be quite bothersome for me to clean up, however.”

The blob got close to his face, glaring and whistling in lower pitched, angry tones. 

Vlad easily pushed it away with one finger on the top of its head. “Yes, well, that’s your problem, isn’t it? Why don’t you go ask Daniel or one of his little friends to help you return?”

The blob whistled again, sharper and more insistent this time.

Vlad gasped, putting a hand to his chest. “Such language! I’m not the one who stranded you here.” It didn’t falter in its glare. “And what has you so hasty to return anyway? Another day or so won’t matter if you really have been gone as long as you say.”

It made the sound of a ticking clock.

Eugh. One of the Master of Time’s little pets. Just what he needed.

Vlad scowled. “I wish you all the best getting back to them, but I will have no part in it. Now shoo.” He floated back to his table, picking up the paper. 

There was a muffled buzzer noise and he felt a tugging on his sleeve.

“Would you quit that?” Vlad swatted his hand at the annoying pest. “I’m trying to read here.”

Another buzzer noise, followed by insistent ticking.

“You realize I can just destroy you if you annoy me enough?” He raised a glowing pink hand above it.

It didn’t move. Didn’t whistle. It simply stared up at him, as if unimpressed.

Vlad grumbled, extinguishing his hand. What a bothersome blob. “Fine, yes, I won’t bother incurring their wrath, but you never answered my question; why come to me about this? Daniel is much easier to dupe into doing whatever you want.”

The blob blew raspberries at him. 

“Well you could’ve led with that. How was I supposed to know he was out of town?”

The blob snapped at his sleeve and Vlad jerked his arm back.

Drat. The blob somehow knew that he knew that Daniel was out of town. Vlad was really hoping it would end up searching Amity Park until the boy returned and get out of his hair. No such luck though. 

“Anyway, even if I wanted to help, I still need to make a new ecto-filtrator for my portal and it is currently inactive.” He shook out the newspaper again. “Maybe you’ll have better luck finding a stray natural portal in the park or something.”

The blob huffed a tired whistle and Vlad glanced up. It was practically drooping where it floated and looking absolutely miserable.

Curse Vlad and his aching heart.

As the blob slowly turned around to leave, Vlad called, “Wait a moment!” It turned back to glance at him. He cleared his throat. “I should be done in a few days’ time. You can return then and I’ll let you go through it.”

The blob gave a questioning, hopeful trill.

“Yes, really. Though I would prefer you don’t bust through my—”

The blob cut him off with a happy squeak, flying speedy circles around his head. 

Vlad chuckled, a small smile growing on his face. “There’s no need to thank me that much.”

It trilled again, pausing its circular flight to rub against his cheek. 

He gave it a little pat, smile growing wider. “That’s quite the rough job. I don’t think I could survive needing to be so accurate with my punctuality. And though I wouldn’t exactly call myself a lifesaver, you are most welcome. Now,”—he picked up his paper a third time—“how about you let me read my paper, hmm?”

The blob whistled an agreement and flew away.

He sighed, sitting back in his chair. Finally.

He flipped to the sports section, but before he could even get through the first headline, he felt a small soft weight spread across his legs.

He looked down and noticed one of the blankets from the living room couch. And wrapped up in the excess fabric and sitting in his lap was the little blob. 

This was new territory for Vlad. He knew countless lessons on ghost etiquette, but didn’t know what he was supposed to do if a blob decided to just… sit on him. So he decided to apply cat rules.

He kept his hands within its eyesight and slowly moved one closer. It chirped quietly, belaying its fatigue, and nosed at his fingers a bit before settling down again. He softly petted its head a few times and, once he realized it wasn’t going to snap at him, left his hand to rest on its back.

Vlad couldn’t blame it for being so tired; it seemed it had been in the Living Realm quite a while without much rest, always trying to find a way back to its home.

And he was starting to get a bit lonely without his girls around. His sister would be bringing them back sometime next week when he was certain the ecto-filtrator was completed and confirmed to be safe to use. Having this little blob around wouldn’t be so bad in the meantime.

Vlad sighed and tried to sound resigned. “I suppose this means you’ll be living with me until my portal is active?”

The blob made a noise of agreement. Vlad didn’t bother hiding his smile, the little thing was far too sleepy to notice.

“Then, if you’re going to be staying here, I’d like to at least know your name.”

The blob gave a sleepy trill. 

“Blobbert,” Vlad grumbled. “Of course the boy named you Blobbert.”

The blob—Blobbert—snapped at his sleeve.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course. It’s an… apt name.” He patted its back. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Blobbert. I hope we’ll get along well these next few days.”

Blobbert purred, pressing into his hand and curling around to nuzzle his stomach. If Vlad hadn’t already built an immunity to scenarios like this, he would’ve almost certainly died of cuteness overload.

He might need to have… trouble while looking for parts for the ecto-filtrator. Not for long of course—his sister wouldn’t catsit forever—but at least to draw things out and have more moments like these. 

After all, it wasn’t everyday a blob ghost such as this would choose to stay with him. Vlad needed to savour the opportunity.

[nihil-ism]

Hey so idk ur ocs so just go off about your fave. What are they like? How are they as people? What makes them so likable to you?

God can I just say how sweet it is of you to go out of your way and send some random strangers questions about their OCs?? I am honestly tossing some glitter and confetti your way because it's just so thoughtful and rarely done tbh so let me preface the upcoming ramble with a huge thank you ! ♡♡

(( also gdi I hope you do not mind having traipsed right into the den of creepy, dark and gruesome OCs™ I apologize profoundly ahah T_T )) Let me put the thing under the cut because immediately three of my OCs perked up (scratch that and make that four the hornet's nest truly has been kicked now AHAH).

The sleepy head that just peeked out after being dormant for god knows how long is also one of my oldest OCs and still very dear to me - Leareth, a Malkavian Vampire I made with and for a roleplaying partner of about... almost 2 decades past. Here is a very quick doodle I made of him:

Malkavian Vampires all suffer from some kind of delusion or other, and hid most defining one is him not knowing he IS a malkav to begin with, but considers himself Toreador (in case you don't know the Vampire the Masquerade lore - he basically believes he is born to a different house/family, so to speak) He's also extremely androgynous and likes to play with that a lot. As a "person", he is usually one of the more agreeable, gentler types (unless he hasn't fed in a while) - albeit rather anxious and easy to scare off. Him having been one of my first OCs is naturally one of the reasons I like him so much, but he also has so many facets about him, and developed so much during the time I wrote him (becoming more and more confident and coming out of his shell, for one). The next one would be Oliver Park, a character I have played in various settings. Bottom line is that he is proficient in archery and parkour, which in most settings he utilizes to hunt - monsters, demons, vampires or whatever the verse I write him in allows. He usually also sells parts of what he hunted. Again a quick doodle to show the guy off:

He's in most cases also working a day-job as a barista and has QUITE the attitude to him. He's a notorious liar and pretty self-confident bordering on arrogant, with a highly troubled past & family story. Oli was one of the first OCs which were "different" from what I would usually create in terms of background, character type and flaws, which reserved him a special place in my heart.

Lastly, I have been starting to flesh out two new OCs which have not much of a backstory yet, they just pretty much made themselves known, propped up a couch in my last remaining braincells and have been occupying those with their feet on the coffee table ever since. I have literally no clue what's going on with Omen's face (the one with the skeleton part as a mug), but I could see him being a Nosferatu in a Vampire the Masquerade verse, or a demon. We'll see what they give away about themselves over the next weeks, I suppose! But yes, those are them:

Void (left), and Omen (right), the latter one's outlines I just cleaned today.

I hope this was an okay-ish peek into the chaos in my head and again, thank you so much for sending this in! Have a great day!

[godstrain]

What's Weskers post-5 state regarding his cocktail of Viruses? Is he still a spaghetti man or did that mostly get burned out? c:

he lost his right arm and it's been replaced by a fancy prosthetic. man's covered in burn scars which serve as a wildly humbling reminder of his WORST DECISION EVER on a list of bad decisions- he also lets his hair be messy lmao it also throws people off i guess... also he had to ditch the shades because that was an iconic part of the "albert wesker look" and he's trying to lay low. he does have a cover story for why he's got all the scars and is missing an arm, and it also tracks because he is 1 charismatic 2 told half truths- people are well aware bioterrorism exists so he just says he escaped from being in a really fucked up situation, which is actually true lmao.

he does have a monster form! and eventually i will add more because it has "stages"- uroboros was at least forced into a dormant state, his body is mainly running on the prototype virus, and it's rather clear uroboros was Not heat resistant, but also some viruses just Stay in your body forever lmao and since wesker doesn't know how to Survive outside of very specific conditions, he still takes doses of the PG67A/W, which surprise is an immunosuppressant so of course he runs the risk of uroboros flare up!

on top of that, he continues to suffer from the fuckery of the t-virus, which essentially eats his brain every few months and he goes through a few days of "zombie behavior" (no emotional control, will literally just eat people because he wants something tasty, scratching at his own skin because he's itchy and wants to just rip it off) where he quarantines himself until his brain actually regenerates because that's the horror loop on that part.

the tldr is he is not danger noodle but he COULD be.

[xb-squaredx]

B-Squared's Belated Top 10 Games of 2023

Well, this has come out…a lot later than I wanted to but life gets in the way. 2023 had a lot of fantastic games in it…but sadly I didn’t get to very many of them. So many great games, from the indies to the AAAs and everything in between. As of now I’ve had to be a bit more careful with money and still haven’t gotten my hands on either a beefy PC to play all the new games or a next-gen console, so my options are somewhat limited…which will be reflected in this list. So for anyone asking why Baldur’s Gate 3 or Alan Wake 2 or Spider-Man 2 or anything else isn’t on this list…I had no real means to play it. That said, I still enjoyed the bulk of what I played in 2023, so I figure it’s better late than never to celebrate those games.

#10: F-ZERO 99

F-Zero is a franchise I have limited experience with; I’ve played far more of Captain Falcon in the Smash Bros. series than any other F-Zero game combined. Regardless, the release of a new game after a near 20 year hiatus certainly had my attention. F-Zero 99 is a new take on the original game, after the popularity of Tetris 99 on the Switch. Up to 99 players race together in a battle-royale fashion, aiming to take first place…or at least survive to the finish line. I’ll be up front that I’m terrible at this game and didn’t play that much of it, but I can recognize that it was a fun spin on an old idea, giving players ample ways to try to play catch up in the chaotic, high-speed races, and for those that are more well-versed in F-Zero it served as a way to scratch an itch that has been bugging them for a good long while. Its unclear what the series’ future will be but I’m hopeful that the overall positive reception to this free-to-play title means there might be more to come for F-Zero sometime soon.

#9: ADVANCE WARS 1+2 RE-BOOT CAMP

As long as we’re talking about older, revived Nintendo franchises, we may as well talk about Advance Wars. After Fire Emblem really took off worldwide, this series has been rather dormant over at Intelligence Systems. Due to real world events, this release was delayed by about a year, but I’m glad that the remake of the first two Advance Wars games helmed by Wayforward was able to finally release. Overall, these are very faithful remakes with some great new bits of animation, voice acting and music, with players able to compete in the campaigns or wage war locally or online in the multiplayer modes. Some people weren’t a huge fan of the visual style in this remake, or felt that it could have done more, but ultimately I’m just happy to see this series come back again and I think Wayforward did a great job. The endless horrors of war have never been so fun!

#8: HOLOLIVE FAN GAMES: (HOLOCURE: SAVE THE FANS AND IDOL SHOWDOWN)

You might remember from a while back that I’m a VTuber fan, especially the ones over at Hololive. There’s been a number of really fun fan games that have released over the years but this year we got two of them released that were right up my alley…well, kinda. First off we have Holocure, a “bullet-heaven” game in the same vein as Vampire Survivors starring the Hololive girls. It’s technically still in early-access and has been out for a while…but the STEAM release was in 2023 and that’s when I first played it so it counts. It’s a very fun game with cute pixel art, great remixes of Hololive songs and is filled to bursting with tons of interesting references to these streamers…which makes it almost completely incomprehensible to non-fans, but that’s beside the point.

We also received a Hololive fighting game in Idol Showdown this year, which I also enjoyed for the most part. The character movesets are filled with just as many references, with some very expressive sprite work on both the playable cast and the backgrounds. A rogue like Digital Frontier mode adds to the stuff to do in the game if pure fighting isn’t for you, and it’s even received some free DLC characters as time has gone on. I do wish the game was a bit more optimized in some regards, but it’s otherwise a really fun game that managed to combine two of my interests together into one package. So I’m counting both of these games together under the umbrella of being Hololive fan games. Give them a try….and fall down the rabbit hole.

#7: NICKELODEON ALL STAR BRAWL 2

Speaking of fighting games, I was pleasantly surprised by the reveal and subsequent release of Nickelodeon All-Star Brawl 2. Despite being excited by the prospect of the first game, I wasn’t all that fond of it by the time it released. It was a barebones experience, devoid of any voice work for these iconic characters (often with iconic voices), looked bad, ran worse at times and most of the cast had very same-y, uninspired movesets. So I’m very happy to say that the sequel is everything the original game should have been.

NASB 2 is a gigantic improvement in every way; it looks a lot better, the voices are here from the get-go now, there’s a huge single player campaign and the cast this time around all feel FAR more fleshed out and distinct. I still have some qualms with the roster overall, but I’m glad the team at Fair Play Labs (and the few members of Ludocity on this project) managed to create something that can appeal to both hardcore platform fighter fans and fans of the Nick characters. Sadly, I think a lot of people felt burned by the last game and didn’t even give this one a try, but trust me…this really is one of the more inventive platform fighters out there. The Slime mechanic itself is kind of worth the price of admission, being able to augment your moves, burst out of combos, or spend on a huge super move to send foes flying. The single player is also filled with fun references and a fair bit of things to do as you fight various minor enemies and bosses from across the various Nick shows. While a bit bug-riddled at launch and my potato PC can barely handle it at times, I had a blast with it, and I hope that people can eventually give this game a chance.

#6: BAYONETTA ORIGINS: CEREZA AND THE LOST DEMON

Oh hey and speaking of burning fans with the last installment and giving things a chance…yeah Bayonetta Origins: Cereza and the Lost Demon was always going to be a tough sell. Even if Bayonetta 3 had been well-received by fans, taking a series known for its over-the-top arcade action and extremely sexual heroine and pivoting to a fairy-tale aesthetic and relatively simple puzzle solving and exploration wasn’t ever going to have a wide appeal. If you don’t like the other Bayonetta games you might end up enjoying this, but then why would you even be looking in this game’s direction? And conversely, if you love the other games, this one is so completely different there’s no guarantee you’d enjoy it. Truly, Bayonetta Origins is a game for an extremely small niche of players, but I was willing to give it a shot and ended up quite enjoying it. In fact, I think it’s one of the best games Platinum has put out in years.

Taking place when young Cereza was still a witch in training, players have to guide Cereza and her first demonic summon, Cheshire, through a maze-like forest infested with dangerous fairies. The game itself feels inspired by something like Brothers: A Tale of Two Sons, alongside Platinum’s own Astral Chain. Players control Cereza and Cheshire simultaneously, using each control stick to guide them through puzzles and the occasional combat encounter. Cereza uses her magic to hold enemies in place or manipulate the environment while Cheshire is in charge of tearing enemies apart. The cel-shaded storybook aesthetic is very charming, making for a game that I think is a lot easier on the eyes than Bayonetta 3, and the coming-of-age element of Cereza learning to stick up for herself and get stronger gave us a fairly well-told story (which is kind of a rarity for this franchise). Outside of a map that isn’t all that helpful, and the fact that it’s still connected to Bayonetta 3 in some strange, confusing ways, this is far and away the best Bayonetta game developed for the Switch, and yeah, I’m just as surprised as you are.

#5: STREET FIGHTER 6

Once upon a time Capcom was considered to be the kings of fighting games, but everything changed when Street Fighter V came out in such a barebones, awful state that the FGC at large moved onto other things. But 2023 was the year Capcom returned to take their crown back, and MAN is Street Fighter 6 a massive return to form. Now, I should stress my time with this game has been limited; I’ve played with a friend with their own copy of the game as well as poured over the PS4 demo, but I don’t actually own this game myself yet. If I DID, this would probably be a bit higher on this list honestly.

SF6 took a long hard look at the complaints levied at the previous game and did everything they could to turn things around here. Rather than launching with no arcade mode and later adding a lackluster story mode, 6 launches with a massive World Tour campaign, giving players the ability to create their own character and dive into the world of Street Fighter in what is ostensibly an action RPG hidden within the greater game. Rather than give us the divisive V-System that encouraged passive play and largely locked away each character’s strongest tools, the Drive System in SF6 gives players tons of way to engage with the game right from round start and encourages both aggression and proper resource management. At high-level, SF6 becomes a tug-of-war between players doing everything they can to whittle down their opponent’s Drive Gauge, while holding onto their own, and then place them into checkmate when they go into Burnout. The game’s new, more realistic artstyle took some time to grow on me personally, but I think they ended up making it work, though admittedly I’m with everyone else in stating that the OST for the game is a bit lacking. Thankfully, they nailed it where it really matters: the roster is filled with some awesome new faces (Marisa my beloved) and manages to make the veteran fighters feel fresh, and the cherry on top is an almost impeccable online experience. I’m glad Capcom learned from their mistakes, and the result is one of the best fighting games around.

#4: FIRE EMBLEM: ENGAGE

Releasing right at the start of the year, I’m sure a lot of people forgot about Fire Emblem Engage, though really I think they’re missing out. I’ve been a fan of the series since Awakening, so the gaps in knowledge with the series is vast, but I could still recognize this as a love letter to the entire series. Clearly intended as a celebration of the franchise’s 30th anniversary before a certain pandemic got in the way, Engage is filled to the brim with fanservice…and not just the sexy kind! Truthfully I do feel aspects of this game are at odds with each other; while the overall presentation is great, being the most colorful and flashy game in the series yet, its story is…let’s say lacking. The characters are all fairly one-note and at times lean way more into stock anime archetypes than fully-fleshed out cast members, especially in comparison to the best parts of Three Houses, and there is the odd….otaku-bait stuff for lack of a better term, especially regarding the romance options, but the actual core gameplay is the best in the series.

Fights are fast, ferocious and give players a ton of great new mechanics to sink their teeth into. The star of the show is obviously the various rings characters can equip, which can summon a ghost of a past Fire Emblem hero to help out, giving you a neat little Stand of sorts to augment your abilities for a short time. Adding to that, players can push enemies away, or even break their guard, preventing them from attacking during your turn. I really enjoyed some of the changes to the core weapon triangles of the series, including a new one with archers, mages and bare-handed fighters. Being able to have my healers lay waste to those units with some fisticuffs never got old. Engage might not be the most ambitious game in the series, but at the same time it was a fantastic celebration of how far this series has come and how much more life it still has in it yet. Alear’s hair is still kinda dumb though…

#3: THE LEGEND OF ZELDA: TEARS OF THE KINGDOM

Years ago Breath of the Wild not only launched the Switch into immediate sales success, but also started a conversation about how to craft an interesting open world game after years of the genre feeling overdone. And now in the twilight years of the Switch, Tears of the Kingdom returns to that same world with some new tricks. Link’s new abilities give players even more options for engaging in that world, and many of them are true technical marvels. I’ve gone over a lot of this game in a separate blog post, so I won’t try to reiterate what I said there too much, but ultimately I just enjoyed getting to bounce around a familiar world with even more freedom and opportunities to mess around and see how things worked.

I’d argue that TOTK has more in common with a big old box of random Lego pieces than a game at times. Half the fun is reaching inside and seeing what I can create when mixing and matching things together. Using Link’s Ultrahand and Fusion abilities I can craft vehicles and weapons that are often very goofy and don’t always work right…but when you land on something that’s just crazy enough to work it’s magical. In addition to the massive world from BOTW we also have islands in the sky to investigate, alongside the mysterious Depths, so there was always something to poke at and do. You get into a pretty solid gameplay loop of using the sky islands to look for areas of interest down below, then messing around on the ground during quests and visiting towns, before traveling into the Depths to harvest ore that goes towards making a variety of vehicles that can help me get around elsewhere, especially when it comes to getting back into the sky. Your options start out limited, but as you play you get more and more tools to work with and your various mechanisms become that much more complex. This even gets reflected in some of the dungeons you investigate, with one in the Depths in particular being such a programming flex, tons of game developers on Twitter were losing it, just wondering how Nintendo made it happen. For as much as we tout graphical upgrades as true progress in games, Nintendo is doing more interesting things with the very innards of a game using a console that was already out of date when it launched, and that needs to be championed.

For as much time as I poured into this game (probably somewhere close to 200 hours), I’d be lying if I said I enjoyed all of it. With that amount of playtime, you’re bound to notice some cracks. While this game definitely amplified everything I loved about BOTW, it also failed to really address many of the concerns people had with the previous game. Fusion as a mechanic makes ALL weapons feel usable to a degree, but the constant breaking is even MORE frequent. While there IS a way to stop slipping on wet surfaces, it requires a TON of time investment and the potions that give you slip resistance feel like a bandage over the whole annoyance. And then there’s the story being…very repetitive and a bit too much like the previous game in ways. I can see why talk of this game kind of dried up faster compared to BOTW; there was both a lot more competition this year, but also a lot of this game felt too derivative and lost that novelty of the original game. I wouldn’t have poured over 200 hours into the game if I didn’t love it, but there was definitely enough there to hold it back from being my favorite experience of the year.

#2: XENOBLADE CHRONICLES 3: FUTURE REDEEMED

Xenoblade Chronicles 3 was my GOTY last year, and I knew that a beefy DLC campaign was still in the chamber. I was looking forward to Future Redeemed, but it exceeded about all of my expectations. While the core Xenoblade games have their connections, they’ve all been relatively standalone experiences on the whole until now. I had remembered going into Xenoblade 3, curious to see how all of these elements from the first two games would come together, but that game’s story leaned far more on the brand new cast rather than touching on the older characters in the series and I was left with a lack of closure. I should have had more faith in Monolith Soft, as Future Redeemed serves as not just a prequel to the story in Xenoblade 3, but as the glue that ties the entire Xenoblade series together.

Similar to Xenoblade 2’s Torna: The Golden Country DLC campaign, Future Redeemed is about the size of a medium-sized RPG in its own right, even if it never got a standalone release like Torna did. It keeps a lot of the same core systems of the base game here, but with some interesting twists. Whereas base game Xenoblade 3 made use of a class system and the ability for allies to fuse together, Future Redeemed emphasized pairing up different characters so they could cover for each other’s weaknesses or add to their strengths, on top of having some flashy combination attacks. There was a ton of things to do on the world map at any moment, with Monolith Soft making great use of a more limited map compared to the base game. Seriously, grind rails that can go up AND down were about the one thing Xenoblade 3 really needed! There was also just…so much fanservice and real love for this series found throughout. Seeing Shulk and Rex, the protagonists of the past entries, interacting with each other was fantastic, and newcomer Matthew was a great lead in his own right.

Longtime fans of Monolith Soft CEO and overall creator of the Xenoblade series, Tetsuya Takahashi, will know that his vision of a complete story has been a difficult one to see to completion. Starting back with Xenogears and later Xenosaga, it’s here that Xenoblade finally managed to have a satisfying multi-game arc and conclusion that finally answered some burning questions I had from the ending of 3. Somehow Future Redeemed managed to bring it all together in ways that longtime fans had always hoped for, and all in a neat 30-ish hour package. While I had greatly enjoyed Xenoblade 3, it was still missing something and Future Redeemed was that final piece, making me feel really valued as a longtime fan in the series, and also seems to have some nods to fans of the overarching “Xeno metaseries” that makes me extremely interested in seeing just where Takahashi’s Wild Ride takes us. If this DLC was an indication, the future is indeed bright.

#1: SUPER MARIO BROS. WONDER

As long as we’re talking of bright futures…boy is it good to be a Mario fan right now. From a billion dollar box office hit, to remakes of two beloved RPG spinoffs, that alone would have satisfied fans of the plumber, but then we got hit with the first wholly original 2D Mario in almost two decades. While the New Super Mario Bros. games were all mostly well-regarded critically and commercially, they were just as often considered kind of stale. Inoffensive, but not very interesting, and with so many pumped out in such a short time, it was felt that Mario’s 2D outings had lost something. With the Super Mario Maker games, many had felt that Nintendo had done all that they could with the formula and left it in the hands of fans…but boy were we wrong.

Super Mario Bros. Wonder is oozing creativity out of every pore. From the stylish art direction that calls back to the older 2D art from the NES and SNES days, to the focus on music found throughout the game, it’s a rare game that made me smile about the whole way through. So much here feels fresh and different, from the litany of brand new enemies and power ups, to the various Wonder effects that often cap off levels and take them off the rails. I’ve gushed about this game enough in a separate blog post, which you can read here, but ultimately it has to be said that Wonder is a fantastic experience from moment to moment.

Not every game needs to be revolutionary or create a whole new industry standard to be recognized as great. Sometimes it just needs to be really fun. But even so, the amount of care that went into Wonder deserves praise. The developers weren’t given a deadline at first and got to really explore ideas before nailing things down. To see so much of the original Mario crew still involved on this project after so many years in the industry also showcases Nintendo’s iterative design that is continually polished to a fine sheen. The simple act of moving around is so smooth and responsive, the level design constantly plays with your expectations and makes hunting for secrets such a blast, and many of the new mechanics are slotted in seamlessly, like they were always there. Why yes, giving Mario a grappling hook makes perfect sense! Of COURSE he can turn into an elephant and put out fires with water shot out of the trunk! Some dislike the changes to multiplayer, no longer having any collision or ways to really screw with other players, but that results in seamless online play that lets players experience the levels together, yet apart, in a way I haven’t seen many other games implement. Being able to guide newer players through levels by giving them hints, or even a power up if they need it, and throwing down a standee sign that can revive them even if I’m not there…it’s really something special, akin to how players of Journey felt back in the day. The one blemish on what is otherwise a perfect experience are the boss fights that are both too few and too same-y, but honestly that’s a nitpick in the grand scheme of things. So yeah, Super Mario Bros. Wonder is the game that probably gave me the most joy this year. Not the longest game or the most technically impressive, but a masterclass in design that deserves every bit of praise.

CONCLUSION

There are tons of games I wish I got to this year. I’m sure this list would look a LOT different if I had a beefier PC to check out certain games with, or a fancy new PS5, but that wasn’t in the cards this year. If anything though that just goes to show how many talented people are in this industry that there are so many finely-crafted experiences, so many ambitious titles that keep pushing the medium forward. It was admittedly a lighter year for Nintendo, which has always been my bias, but I’m glad to see the folks over at Remedy and Larian and so many others pushing the boundaries of what we can expect to see in games. Having a virtual D&D campaign filled with moments where you have to adapt to things on the fly is nothing short of a magical experience, and seeing how Alan Wake 2 fuses together film and video game to create something so unique deserves its roses as well. Ultimately though, this was a year filled with some developers running on all cylinders, truly excelling at their craft. We’re getting fighting games with honest-to-God single player content! Strategy games are alive and well and continue to tease and torment players with tough decisions. All the while smaller developers pump passion into their projects, resulting in some fantastic experiences all their own. It was a good year for games and I look forward to seeing what will make my list next year. Until next time.

-B

[lindsaystravelblogs2]

Day 24 - Monday, 27 March

Correction!!!  Mea culpa – I said we slept in a cave last night – it was actually the previous night when we slept in the cave.  Last night, we slept in a salt-mine!  Not actually a salt-mine, but a hotel made almost entirely from salt.  The walls were salt, the floor was salt, the tables and chairs were salt, the bar was salt, the bed was salt – almost everything was salt – either carved directly from salt or constructed from large salt bricks.  We stayed just a few kilometres from the Bolivian salt-flats and salt is used for everything it can possibly be used for – and it is so dry that it really never dissolves.

We are talking about a big block of salt – and I mean BIG!  It is ten thousand square kilometres of salt and it is a hundred and forty metres thick – too big to fit in any of our salt shakers at home.  The 2- or 3-kilometre road from the highway to our hotel was one of the roughest, muddiest roads we have ever been on and the overnight rain made getting back to the highway ever more treacherous.  Fortunately, we had a good driver and we had the benefit of driving behind some other tourists and avoided the areas where they got stuck.

We drove out onto the salt flats and stopped at the end of the road to look at some of the puddles on the salt near the parking area.  The puddles were yellowish with more yellow bubbles emerging from underground – Lithium Oxide.  Bolivia and nearby Peru have the world’s biggest lithium deposits with the potential to enrich both countries hugely (if it were not for their extremely corrupt governments).  The demand for lithium for batteries, particularly for electric car batteries, is expected to be ginormous and will make someone (no doubt some off-shore multinationals) very, very rich.

We spent most of the rest of the day driving around on the surface of this gigantic block of salt.  We visited an enclosed area where artists are invited to create huge salt artworks – and they even have an area cordoned off where salt it trucked in and reconstructed to form the building blocks for the artists to use.  Out on the salt-flats, there are numerous other structures – all made from salt blocks – and I climbed up onto a platform to photograph the patterns in the salt.  Due to the crystalline molecular structure of salt, it forms roughly hexagonal blocks about a metre across - but sometimes the molecules forget to count so we get other shapes as well – but less common.

It was fun rocketing across (flat, flat, flat) smooth dry the salt-plain checking out these structures and we ended up at the original salt hotel in the middle of the salt-plain for lunch.  The hotel where we stayed last night is new and this one was the original one that is now becoming quite dilapidated.  In 2016, the Dakar Rally went through Bolivia and this hotel was a major point of focus (I think many people stayed there overnight) and there are salt monuments around the hotel attesting its importance.  There is also an area with the flags of many countries fluttering in the strong wind.  We eventually found the embarrassing shreds of an Australian flag that we thought should be replaced.

During the afternoon, we drove around again and went to an area where there was a thin layer of water over the salt and we walked quite a way on it – it looked like we were walking on water – a very strange sensation.  And despite all our slip, slop and slaps, we both got badly sun-burned that day from the reflection off the white shiny salt, rather than directly from the sun.

Once off the salt, we drove to Uyuni (You-you-nee), a biggish town and a centre for mining and mine workers.  We had a very late lunch there and checked out some of the local buildings and then drove out to what was/is/will be the largest copper mine in Bolivia, and possibly the world.  It is currently dormant with just a few individuals scratching a living from it, but it is owned by the government and is expected to reopen when world copper prices improve.  It is a massive undertaking and we spent time wandering around in an area overlooking the village and mining works.  They had several old trains there and I photographed numerous birds – with the brilliant yellow of the Siskins standing out from the somewhat drab surroundings.

The night was a night from hell.  We were on an eight-hour bus trip from Uyuni to La Paz and it was cramped and very uncomfortable.  It was a nightmare ride and we never want to have another experience like that!

[cdevroe]

Blogging is alive and well

Oh man am I happy! People that hadn't written on their blog in a long time are blogging again. Websites that hadn't been updated in many years, some over a decade, are being spruced up and published to again. And popular news outlets are publishing articles about blogging.

Of course, those of us that have kept our focus on blogging know that blogging never died. The activity of publishing just moved around from platform to platform. In some cases behind a wall like on Facebook and Instagram, in others, into data silos where the content couldn't flow out onto the open web like Twitter.

Perhaps you're reading this and you totally ignored blogging over the last few decades or you're a young person just starting to venture into the blogging world. I won't cover the entire history of blogging but let me sum up what happened in just one paragraph.

The weblog exploded onto the scene in the early 2000s. Many websites were being frequently updated prior to that, but the blog format really jumped into the mainstream during that time. There were millions of active blogs. Then, social networks sprang up to help make publishing on the web easier or more approachable. Facebook, Twitter, Instagram - all of these began to see enormous growth in popularity and the amount of content that is published on them. Today, hundreds of millions of posts (which, are not unlike blog posts) are published on these three platforms daily. So, in a way, blogging is more popular than ever. The thing that changed was where people published.

And, that was a shame for a variety of reasons.

Having your own personal website is still not as easy as signing up to Instagram. And the fear of publishing to a blog paralyzes some people. However, the advantages to having your own website are myriad. You own it. The content that is on it can be visible to everyone on the web. The fate of your blog isn't tied to the fate of a public or venture backed company. Etc.

I think the resurgence we are seeing has been caused by many variables. Two primary drivers over the last few months has been the upheaval caused by unhinged billionaires and privacy invasive business models. But I think there are other factors at play too.

One possibility is that the same people that desired a much more simple publishing tool in the early 2000s are now older, wiser, more patient and desire more control, ownership, and features. When I started publishing on the web I was 15 years old. I'm 42 now. I've changed a lot over that time period. So, some of the recent surge may be that people are willing to put in the time to have a home on the web they can be proud of and that scratches their particular itches.

Then there are those that already had blogs that laid dormant for a few years. They found their audiences on Twitter and so they saw far more engagement there. And, for those willing to admit it, they became addicted to the feedback loop of having large followings on social media platforms. When they publish to their blog it sort of feels like throwing a ball into a black hole. But publishing onto social media, when you have tens of thousands of followers, feels like playing table tennis. Even with that addiction to engagement, they desire to own their audience rather than build one for a tech giant. And so they reach for their blogs hoping to bring that audience from social media onto their own platform.

Some of them will succeed. Some of them will crawl back to social media once the dust settles over the protest du jour.

Whether or not blogging is alive or dead is not a new topic of discussion. It is a topic that reoccurs every few years. I've written about it dozens of times. But the current push seems slightly different. I believe we will see many more people blogging again or, at the very least, publishing on a platform that compliments the web rather than chafe at it.

Ten years ago, I wrote:

A set of protocols or standards will need to come along to help connect all publishing platforms together. The incredibly useful features we find inside of networks like Twitter will need to find their way out onto the world wide web. This means bringing actions like following or subscribing, mentioning, citing, link previewing, etc. to the independent web and have them be completely separate from any single service.

The IndieWeb set the standards for some of the tools and protocols we now see finding footing. ActivityPub has been a boon for modern day platforms, like Mastodon, to give people the best of both worlds -- you can have your ease of publishing and be web friendly too. I hope we see a lot more platforms built from the priciples of the IndieWeb so that people don't need to think about federation, microformats, syndication feeds, webmentions, etc. People do not care about these things. Developers need to.

I'm so very happy that blogging is getting a shot in the arm.

Here are a few links worth looking at:

The Year of the Personal Website - Matthias Ott

Bring back personal blogging - Monique Judge for The Verge

Personalsit.es - By Andy Bell, a showcase of personal websites

Ooh.directory - By Phil Gyford, a directory of blogs

[independentaussie]

Rediscovering the joy of writing speculative fiction after a long hiatus

I have always been a writer, although at times I've done my very best to pretend that I'm not. In fact, for most of my life, writing has been such a natural thing for me, that I've kind of taken it for granted and that hasn't been all that beneficial. For a while, I wrote the full gamut of what is broadly described as speculative fiction - horror, sci-fi, dark fantasy and other shades of weirdness. A lot of it was published in various small press magazines. I got a real buzz out of it.

An early success One day, I just stopped. I'm not entirely sure why. Maybe the well went dry. Perhaps I couldn't find the time. Or maybe I got a little frightened that I wasn't good enough. There's probably a little bit of truth in each of those statements. The last piece of speculative fiction that I wrote held a clue. It was a piece that came out of nowhere (all the best stuff does) and its conclusion left me wanting to explore the themes further and extend the story into a novel. There were so many threads, themes and unanswered questions lurking in those 4000-odd words that further chapters simply had to be written. And yet, I could not do it. I tried attacking it from multiple angles but when the words came, they seemed forced and inferior to that initial piece. So, I gave up.

The lie

I continued to write but steered clear of anything resembling fiction. "There wasn't enough money in it," I lied as if money was ever the reason. The lie has lain dormant waiting to be exposed for at least ten years. I've been scratching around it hesitantly for a few months. The trigger was that last piece, a hard copy of which has been stuffed in a drawer all this time. The story still demands exploration. I've been trying without a lot of success. It's been quite a painful exercise and I have to admit that I've nearly chucked it in on a couple of occasions. While I've been wrestling with this, I've also been searching for the hard disk where I'd stored all my previous speculative fiction. Sure, I had some scattered around in various magazines, but I wanted all of it. For some reason, I'd come to believe that those stories contained the key that would unlock the story that I wanted to write.

Rediscovering the key to writing speculative fiction

About 10 days ago, I found about 95% of them and to be honest, I'm kind of blown away. I have no idea where some of that stuff came from and that's the key. I realised that my best speculative fiction literally comes out of nowhere sparked by a vague idea. There was no plan, no structure, and no reason. I just tapped in and let the story take me where it wanted to go. I had forgotten that. It's been a joy to rediscover that - even if it means that the work I'd done on my novel has to be discarded. I need to follow the story where it leads, rather than lead it where I think it should go. Writing speculative fiction is in a sense, counter-intuitive to much of my professional writing. That professional writing is methodical, focused, planned and well, let's be honest, pretty damn boring. I've been out of speculative writing for so long that I'd kind of lost my sense of how to write it. it isn't so much writing ...but feeling if that makes sense.

So, what now?

I'm no spring chicken. Writing content is safe and secure but has the hallmarks of sputtering to the forgettable close that I tried to avoid by quitting banking. My blog has served mainly as a creative and at times emotional outlet. It will expire shortly after I do. There is an increasing urgency to create something worthwhile. The novel demands to be written. I'm not sure where that takes me and that's exciting but I don't plan to stop there. You see, I have all these stories that I want you to read. Some of them need some polish. Others should be toned down a little (Clive Barker's Books of Blood reads like an Enid Blyton Book in comparison). A couple of them are pretty damn good as they are. So, I'm working feverishly to make them presentable and to put them into some sort of order. I'm not sure what format I'll release them in. I'm still working through some logistics but one way or another I aim to publish them all this year. That means that all other projects (and there are at least 5) will be taking a back seat and my content work will continue for the time being. I've come to realise that I'm not just a writer. I am a speculative fiction writer and always have been. it's time that I shared that with you and I can't wait. Read the full article

[twst-drabbles]

Leona 14

Summary: It’s not unusual for a young prince to be kidnapped. However, this kidnapping was interrupted by a battle harden valkyrie.

(Epic Poem to Sacred Death was played during the Valkyrie scene.)

“Let go of me!” A young, second prince yowled out, kicking and scratching at the creatures that were more animal than man, “Let go of me, now!”

Magic does nothing to them. Fire, water, wind, flora, just about all of them were buffed away with the greatest of ease, sliding off their bodies as though nothing more than rain drops on wax paper.

“Wow, kid’s just as feisty too!” The monster grabbing his arms pointed out, “Our King of Beasts is going to just love you.” He jostled the prince about, laughing at his bobbing head.

“Too bad he doesn’t have the scar,” the other creature said, binding his legs in rope, “Ah well, we can always make one. I’m sure our god will be happy to have an einherjar such as you, looking the way you do.”

Leona dug his teeth into his lip, sucking in a breath to call the magic laying dormant within him. It sparked, swirling with life as these creatures took him farther away from the city. He let this magic, unstable as it was, flow out of him, “King’s—!”

A spear pierced through the clouds, embedding itself into the ground right next to Leona. A hole was left right in the torso of the monster holding his legs. No blood, no organs, nothing. A simple gaping hole, leaking out smoke as though nothing more than an illusion.

They let go of his feet just as the other monster dropped his head.

He didn’t run far. Another spear came a split second later to take his head. Both corpses disappeared in slow trails of black smoke. The spears followed, becoming glitters of light.

“Finally,” Leona sighed out, untying the ropes from his legs, “took all of you long enough.”

“’All of you?’ There’s only me, young Leona.” The beat of your wings sent wind through his hair. Lightly, your feet touched the ground. “Were you expecting an army?”

He retreated back, coiling the energy in his gut, ready to launch a spell if needed, “Who are you?”

Your armor clinked as you dusted it off, feathers pristine in their colorful glamour. “Look to your myths to find your answer. It should be easy enough.”

A Valkyrie. Chooser of the Slain. A death deity. He’s heard the stories. Who hasn’t been told?

“Judging by your expression, you have found your answer,” you looked behind you, as though looking for the corpses that have become smoke, “I’m not here to pick up your soul. As you can see, you still live.”

The tension Leona’s jaw eased, but his spine was still stiff. “Then why are you here?”

“I’ve come to slay that which seeks to mess with mortal fates,” you gestured to the open space that once contained his kidnappers, “They are servants to a god participating in a war over an empty throne. They cannot meddle with your fate, not as long as you remain within my sight.”

“So they can’t mess with it, but you can?” Leona didn’t wait for your answer. “You meddled with my fate, why not meddle with it more by making me king?”

You blinked at him, evidently surprised, “You would rather the throne be handed to you?” You shook your head, “Such laziness is unbecoming of a king. Besides, I know very well that question doesn’t hold weight to it. You simply want another agreeable servant by your side.”

Ah, people such as you always irritated him, thinking they know him better than he knows himself, even if they are right. “At least you have some brains underneath that helmet of yours. Seems you’re not all muscle.”

You sighed, “Such words would offend the ears of any god.”

Leona scoffed, “What? Are you gonna tattle that a bratty princeling like me made fun of you to your gods?”

Rather than a scowl or a snooty upturn of the nose like he expects from any haughty noble, you laughed, “Ha! Why would they ever listen to such ramblings? They sit far too high in their realms to catch any words spoken by those in Midgard.”

You let out a breath, calming yourself down. “It’s about time you go back now. I’m afraid I have to leave.”

So soon, huh? Leona huffed. “Yeah, just leave me all by myself, how merciful you are.”

“Glad to see you understand your position.” You did not take the bait. “May we meet when your life ends.”

With that, you fly back into the sky, a distant star he could never reach. A memory he will never let fade.