#A little rocky Nocturne

[xoxojoka]

"Nobody will ever hug you this tightly,

all perturbed and pale.

I’m a sailor without a compass

whose ships always go crazy.

Nobody will ever

pour an entire last tenderness

into your bloodstream

like this,

nor find both hope and hopelessness inside of you.

Never again will you rot so wonderfully

in a common hotel,

yet not wish to get out of it.

You are the tastiest blood of this world

that I sponged with the bread

of my dark belly.

You are the salt from swollen lips

that we peeled off with our fangs

and spilled over my thighs

and your breasts.

You are the most infinite,

the deadliest sky

next to my rosy ear.

The most shameless girl

among all the women I've ever met.

The shiest woman

among all the girls I've ever met..."

— Miroslav Mika Antić, a fragment of "A Little Rocky Nocturne". Translated by me.

[pillowspace]

Listen to me, boy. You will hear about sea slugs. You will enjoy sea slugs

Costasiella kuroshimae / leaf sheep. Discovered off the coast of Japanese island Kuroshima in 1993, they can indirectly perform photosynthesis by absorbing chloroplasts from algae

Cyerce nigricans. The cerata can be easily cast when disturbed. They can also swim by powerfully flapping said cerata when strongly stimulated. I think they look like butterfly wings!

Jorunna parva / sea bunny. They are covered in papillae, which are fleshy protuberances used for sensory functions. It looks like fur!

Glaucus atlanticus / blue glaucus. They are rarely seen, except during periods of on-shore winds which brings them and their prey into coastal waters. They are the most dangerous sea slug to handle, able to give humans a very painful and potentially dangerous sting

Chromodoris lochi / loch's chromodoris. They are spongivores, and prefer being on the underside of overhangs on rocky reefs. Their distribution is widespread in the Indo-Pacific. Everyone I show sea slugs to seems to love this little guy

Dirona albolineata / white-lined dirona. A translucent predator that often eats bryozoans and small snails. They generally reside on rocks and sometimes mud in the intertidal. Pretty little things, they remind me of shards of glass

Phidiana hiltoni / Hilton's Aeolid. They are known for being quite aggressive, often biting and fighting other aeolids, which is so real of them. They always reminded me of lit matches

Acanthodoris lutea / orange-peel doris. Its bright aposamatic colouration is a warning to predators of its distasteful toxicity. They also notably smell of sandalwood! You don't understand. I NEED to hold one

Nembrotha kubaryana / dusky nembrotha. They use the toxins in their prey ascidians to defend themselves against predators. The toxins are stored in their tissues then released in a slimy defensive mucus when alarmed. Nembrotha kubaryana are well-known for their neon appearance

Phyllodesmium poindimiei / Spun Of Light. It's primarily nocturnal and can cast its cerata for protection. Anyway, can we all agree that Spun Of Light is the most awesome name for a sea slug ever? I mean, look at it. That's a sea slug spun of light if I've ever seen one

Conclusion: sea slugs are the creatures ever

[megumiluvv]

You’ve gotten used to going with Choso and Yuji to things for the little kid. Yuji has to get his flu shot, and he hates needles as much as he hates mannequins. Maybe worse.

Yuji’s sat in your lap, talking about how excited he is for school and counting how many cars drive past the doctor’s office as Choso fills out paperwork.

“Uhh three numbers after twenty-seven…” Yuji mumbles.

“Thirty.” You help him.

“Thirty cars!”

“Yuji Itadori?” A nurse calls for him.

Yuji nervously holds your hand while the three of you go into the hallway and he gets his height and weight measured before going into a room and waiting for the doctor to come in.

“So, Yuji, you excited for ice cream later?” You try to distract him.

“Yeah! I’m gonna get strawberry and rocky road!”

“Those are good flavors, I think I’ll get some chocolate chip cookie dough myself.” Choso smiles and sits beside you as Yuji sits on the big table.

“Mm, cookie dough ice cream…” you trail off and smile. “I think I’m gonna get plain old chocolate.”

The doctor walks in and smiles to Yuji, who suddenly gets nervous again and scoots towards you.

You sigh a little and sit up on the table with him, holding him in your lap. He sees the vaccine getting prepared and tries to escape your arms, so Choso helps distract him.

“Yuji, did you know that tigers are actually good swimmers?”

“Hm?” The pink-haired boy perks up and stops fighting you as you lift his sleeve to help the doctor. “They are?”

“Yup. And they’re also nocturnal. Remember what that means?” Choso continues as the doctor administers the vaccine.

“Umm, that’s when they are awake at night, right? Like owls.”

“That’s right.” Choso smiles as you look at him in slight astonishment that he easily distracted Yuji.

“Wow, such a smart boy for such a young age! And brave too! Yuji got his shot so fast he didn’t even notice.” The doctor adorns Yuji’s arm with a tiger bandaid.

“Wow, really?!” Yuji looks at the bandaid in awe that he didn’t realize he even got a shot.

“You know what that means, Yuji?” You smile and hold him on your hip.

“Ice cream!!”

Yuji smiles and you go to buckle him up in his car seat while Choso talks with the doctor and schedules Yuji’s next appointment. The doctor smiles.

“Your partner is pretty, and good with Yuji, how long have you been dating?”

“Oh, I’m not- we’re not together…”

“Really? I wouldn’t have ever thought otherwise. They look at you as if you’ve hung the stars.”

“Really? I’ve never noticed…”

“Well, you’ve got the same look for them, it’s insane that neither of you have noticed.”

The doctor waves to Choso as he leaves and gets into the driver’s seat. Do you really look at him that way? Is he really that oblivious? Is he really that obvious with his own looks? He hopes the doctor is right about how you feel.

Taglist: @samaraxmorgan @cherriee-ee

Masterlist

[fishenjoyer1]

Fish of the Day

Today's fish of the day is the flower hat jelly!

The flower hat jelly, scientific name Olindias formosus, is a small and rare jelly known for the multicolored tentacles and luminescent display. Belonging to the hydrozoa family, the flower hat jelly is not actually a true jellyfish. The main difference between them being that true jellyfish belong to the Scyphozoa class, and have a life cycle defined by a longer period as a medusa (their adult form) whereas hydrozoans have a lifecycle primarily defined by their polyp or juvenile stages, sometimes even lacking medusa forms, a pattern that can once again be found in the flower hat jelly's life cycle. Their distribution is off the coastline of Japan, Korea, and countries within Oceania. Although some believe that these jelly's can also be found outside of Argentina, and Brazil, it is thought this may be a close relative, Olindias sambaquiensis. With a depth range from sea level down to 55m of depth, these jellyfish tend to live near the ocean floor where they can hide among kelps, sea grasses, and loose rocky bottoms.

Living a nocturnal life, the flower hat jelly spends its days hiding on the ocean floor. But, once dusk arrives this jelly rises from its hiding places to capture small fishes within its tentacles, paralyzing and or killing the fish, before drawing the corpse up into the bell to be consumed. The stings from this jelly are painful, and at least one fatality has been recorded from them in Japan.  These tentacles hold most of the intrigue of the flower hat jelly.  The length of the tentacles may appear to be random, but has been found to be arranged mathematically in an optimization hashing algorithm known as fibonacci hashing. Length aside however, these jelly's, and especially their tentacles contain fluorescent proteins, which are used to attract prey when hunting, and are particularly bright under blacklight. This protein is uniquely interesting due to its use in helping treat some COVID cases, as it can be used as an inhibitor, stopping the replication of the disease, and slowing or halting its spread.

The reproduction and younger stages of the flower hat jellyfish were a mystery for many years, but in 2012 the Monterey Bay Aquarium managed to be the first to breed them in captivity, capturing a full lifecycle from larvae to polyp to medusa. Beginning as polyps attached to a hard surface along the seabed, where they are completely stationary, surviving off of a single active tentacle, which is waved back and forth to gather nutrients, forming a medusae and releasing them only once a size of 1mm was achieved. Then they will mature into juvenile medusa, which are identical to adult medusa in appearance and behavior, only being identifiable by their smaller size and less tentacles. Juvenile medusa only being around 2-20mm, and adults getting only as large as 6inches total throughout their lifespan. Adult flower hat jellies are only observed in the months of December-July with peaks in the months of May and April. However, we understand very little about how these jelly's sexually breed in the wild, but fertilization occurs externally, as gametes are released into the water to create small, non-cooperative colonies along similar areas. These animals live only 4-6 months as adults, and only around a year total before slowly losing their fluorescence and passing away.

That's the flower hat jelly, everybody, have a wonderful Tuesday!

[artifacts-and-arthropods]

Hummingbird Hawk Moths: as a result of their hummingbird-like behavior and appearance, these moths are often mistaken for actual hummingbirds

The Eurasian hummingbird hawk moth: Macroglossum stellatarum

Like an actual hummingbird, the hummingbird hawk moth uses a flight maneuver called "swing-hovering" (rapidly swinging from side-to-side while hovering in mid-air), has a wing-speed of up to 85 beats-per-second, produces a humming noise when flying, and feeds on the nectar from flowers; the hairs on its body even resemble the tail-feathers and wings of a hummingbird.

These moths are also able to maintain a stable position in mid-air by relying on the same flight patterns that are found among hummingbirds -- the moth rapidly rotates its wings in a "figure-8" motion, generating lift on both the forward and backward strokes, which effectively allows the moth to hover in place. The flight maneuvers (and other adaptations) of the Eurasian hummingbird hawk moth are so similar to the characteristic traits found in hummingbirds that this little moth is often mistaken for a real hummingbird, despite the fact that it is found exclusively in habitats that do not contain any wild/native hummingbirds. Though this species can be found in various ecosystems throughout the British Isles, mainland Europe, Central Eurasia, and even some parts of North Africa, there are no actual hummingbirds in any of these regions, as wild hummingbirds are found only in the Americas.

These moths (M. stellatarum) have a wing-speed of up to 85 beats-per-second. For comparison, the amethyst woodstar hummingbird, which is one of the smallest and fastest hummingbirds in the world, has a similar wing-speed of up to 80 beats-per-second.

While most other moths are nocturnal, the hummingbird hawk moth is active only during the day. It uses a specialized proboscis to feed on the nectar from various flowers, including honeysuckle, jasmine, tulip, red valerian, lilac, and phlox. This species also differs from other moths due to its lack of auditory organs, meaning that it has no sense of hearing. Among most moths, auditory organs have evolved as a defense mechanism to detect the ultra-sonic chirps that are emitted by predatory bats at night, but because the hummingbird hawk moth is only active during the day, when bats are largely inactive, that particular defense mechanism was not developed.

Experts generally believe that the similarities shared by hummingbirds and hummingbird hawk moths actually arose through convergent evolution; this means that the hummingbirds and the moths both experienced a similar set of needs, pressures, and circumstances within their respective environments, and they simply developed similar adaptations in response to those circumstances. Their uncanny resemblance therefore does not qualify as a form of animal mimicry -- the moths may look and act a lot like hummingbirds, but the resemblance is viewed as a product of incidental factors, and it is unlikely that those similarities were developed for the purpose of providing camouflage.

This is not the only type of moth that is commonly referred to as a "hummingbird moth." The genus Macroglossum contains several moth species that have hummingbird-like characteristics, and the term "hummingbird moth" can be applied to many of them; there are also at least five "hummingbird moths" in the genus Hemaris, although they belong to a separate clade and their resemblance to hummingbirds is somewhat less convincing. They include H. thysbe (also known as the hummingbird clearwing moth), H. diffinis (the snowberry clearwing moth), H. thetis (the Rocky Mountain clearwing moth), H. aethra (the Diervilla clearwing moth), and H. gracilis (the slender clearwing moth), all of which are found in North America.

Moths of the genus Hemaris: these moths may sometimes be identified as "hummingbird moths;" the genus Hemaris also contains a variety of moths that are popularly referred to as "bee hawk moths" or "bee moths" because they bear a resemblance to bumble-bees.

The Eurasian hummingbird hawk moth is not closely related to any of the "hummingbird moths" from the genus Hemaris, however, as it belongs to a completely different genus and occupies a separate habitat on the other side of the Atlantic. Still, it's interesting to note the presence of similar hummingbird-like traits within these different genuses.

Sources & Addition Info:

PBS Nature: Featured Creature, the Hummingbird Hawk Moth

The Wildlife Trusts: Hummingbird Hawk Moth

Royal Society for the Protection of Birds: Article about Hummingbird Hawk Moths

Journal of Comparative Physiology: Fuelling on the Wing: the sensory ecology of hawk moth foraging

Country Life: The Confusingly Enormous Hummingbird Hawk Moth that Looks Set to Become a Regular Fixture in British Gardens

[kirain]

I know you've said you're not into shipping, but if you HAD to ship bg3 companions (you do, I'm saying you have to😝) which npcs would you ship them with?

Well, since you're forcing me. 😅

...This was actually harder than I thought it would be, since I don't usually consider ships. But I think I'm happy with my choices.

In my opinion, Lae'zel and Varsh Ko'kuu would make a fantastic couple. Personally, I prefer the ending where Lae'zel returns to the Astral Plane to usher in a new age for the githyanki, hopefully turning them from their violent and conquerous ways. To do that she'll need support, hence her call for rebellion. I like to think Ko'kuu would be one of the first to join her, as the Narrator tells us he's grown "tired"; likely of his people's brutal and callous ways. He's clearly diplomatic and maternal, as well as open-minded enough to trust an outsider with his young, so he'd be a perfect ally. As he becomes Lae'zel's righthand man during the civil war, they would naturally form a bond that blooms from respect and admiration to romantic. He would also make an excellent father to Xan.

This ship I don't think I even need to explain. Karlach and Dammon are absolutely perfect for each other. They respect each other, they like each other, they understand each other's struggles, and they're both kind, caring, optimistic people. Karlach not only fantasizes about Dammon in her origin run, but they also have an adorable handholding scene once he upgrades her engine. So in relation to her somewhat disappointing ending, I like to think Dammon discovers a cure for her condition and follows her to Avernus, where they break into Zariel's forge, construct a permanent upgrade that negates the deadly heat inside her, and then escape back to the material plane. After that, the two would become inseparable. They would start a new life in Baldur's Gate, with Dammon continuing his work as a respected blacksmith and Karlach becoming an avid defender of the city.

This ship was actually my friend's idea, and I believe she's planning on exploring it further on her own blog. As we discussed it, we both agreed Sebastian would probably hate Astarion and want blood, even knowing he had no choice but to follow Cazador's demands; over a century of misery and torment leaves little room for forgiveness. After his release, I think he'd track Astarion down and try to kill him in a blind act of revenge, but hesitate, failing the task. Still a sweet and delicate soul, he'd fall to his knees in tears, lamenting everything he's lost. Plagued with guilt upon seeing his broken state, Astarion would comfort Sebastian, knowing what it's like to feel nothing but fear and hatred. Things would be rocky at first, slow, messy—but eventually Sebastian would forgive Astarion, falling in love with him all over again. And with that closure, Astarion would finally be able to forgive himself.

To me, this ship makes the most sense (and may also be the sweetest), as Shadowheart and Nocturne already have a shared history and they've both suffered under Shar. When we meet Nocturne, she implies she's grown wary of following the dark goddess and her cult, but she's too afraid to leave. So after defeating the Absolute, I like to imagine Shadowheart rekindles her relationship with Nocturne, eventually turning her away from Shar and convincing her to leave the sanctum. With her once best friend's guidance, Nocturne would adjust well to the world outside, growing close to Shadowheart once again and rebuilding her lost memories, as well as making new ones. Together they would travel the world, forever wrapped in each other's loving embrace.

I fell in love with Exxvikyap the moment I met her, and I think she'd be perfect for Wyll. He needs someone who can match his excitable, charismatic energy—and she definitely would. Whether Wyll follows in his father's footsteps or follows Karlach to Avernus, at some point I like to think he'd return to Baldur's Gate. Once he does, he'd find himself visiting the Rivington General for a new weapon. As she helps him find a sword best suited to his fighting style, they'd strike up a conversation. Wyll would find her warm and bubbly personality both infectious and endearing, which would lead to him visiting the shop again. And again. And again. And again. Slowly, he would begin courting the sweet dragonborn woman, and she would happily accept his advances. Eventually she would quit, joining Wyll on his many adventures and defending the Sword Coast from any who would threaten to harm it.

This ship I waffled on for a while, because personally I didn't see it; especially since I think Gale needs someone who's compassionate and affectionate. But then I realised Rolan is both of those things. At least by Act 2. He's sassy and snappy and self-important, but he loves his siblings—to the point that he was willing to risk his career to stick by them at the Grove, and enough to risk his life by searching for them in the Shadowlands. He also saved the orphans, even though he whinged about it. He wants to be independent, but he later learns to accept help, which leads me to Gale. At some point, I like to think Gale visits Ramazith's Tower, looking for a book. He bumps into Rolan, who's struggling to cast an advanced spell that summons a hoard of angry mephits. Chaos ensues, causing Gale and Rolan to team up and reverse the damage. Rolan would beat himself up over the incident, but Gale would encourage him, teaching him the proper way to cast the spell. From that point on, their relationship would blossom in ways neither of them expected. Together they would find a perfect balance, propping each other up while also keeping each other humble.

[slavghoul]

Interview from Upset Magazine 6/2023

Words: Steven Loftin

Like an apparition manifesting within a dense fog, it was through radio static that Swedish rockers Ghost were formed. In the kindergarten he attended as a young boy, Tobias Forge found himself enamoured with the music crackling through the little toy speakers. From this point forward, he began picking apart the notes and melodies - his journey toward the lore and canon coming into focus as he sat, trying to figure out how this black magic could be summoned.

While it would be many years before he would don his garb as Papa Emeritus, the essence of what his future would sound like was being set through his exposure to a wide variety of music. If any proof were needed, just look to the impressive list of covers Ghost have put their ghastly mark upon, including 2016's 'Popestar' EP, which included the band's takes on Echo & The Bunnymen ('Nocturnal Me') and Simian Mobile Disco ('I Believe').

Ghost's latest EP is another covers bonanza. A five-piece offering of Tobias's backstory, 'Phantomime' plays out like a Greatest Hits radio playlist - a fitting throwback to Tobias' first dalliances with music. Of course, when a group more aligned to the metal/hard rock community bust out covers, including Genesis and Tina Turner, eyebrows are raised. To this reaction, Tobias scoffs. "In 1991, Genesis was one of the biggest bands on the planet! That was a huge hit. In the mid-80s, when I had an older teenage brother who rented every VHS movie that came out, of course, we saw the fucking Thunderdome, and that was a huge hit, and it's still being played on Swedish radio. It's an evergreen; it's not an eclectic choice at all," he declares. "I grew up listening to Stranglers because my brother liked them. What else do we have, Iron Maiden - I mean, are you kidding? I'm a metalhead!"

Originally conceived during the sessions for their fifth album, last year's 'Impera', there were two folders on his computer's desktop: one named 'Impera', the other simply 'Covers'. As the ideas for 'Impera' grew, Tobias would enter his usual routine of working on a cover or two. "At any point, when you lose a little wind in writing your own things, it's quite nice to say, 'Today let's go in and work on the covers'; you can choose anything you want, you can work on absolutely anything you want. And you don't have to finish it, you don't have to release it, you don't have to do anything, but just continue working."

He likens it to the freedom of being a theatre owner who, instead of trying to pen the next greatest Broadway phenomenon, opts to have a go at something already timeless and perfected.

"Maybe you're like, 'Okay, so this fall we're just going to do a reinterpretation of Hamlet instead, that's going to be fine, and that keeps everyone working, and that keeps a project moving along! And I find a similar thing with working on covers. So as I was writing "Impera', the covers folder was also growing exponentially and at a point. I had this idea that was going to be a full-length album."

With COVID restrictions meaning the original producer for 'Impera' was stuck in the US, Tobias had to source a replacement. It would be Klas Åhlund who stepped up to the plate. But, on one condition. "He was pretty upfront. He was like. Yeah, I only want to make the record; I don't want to work on covers," Tobias remembers "Fine, fine, fine, that's fine." he shrugs. "So, after the 'Impera' recording was done, I felt as if making a completely different, whole record again: I didn't have time for that. I didn't have the energy for that. But once I trimmed down the number of songs to only these five to make a very rocky record, it loosened up the screws a little bit for me in terms of like, "Okay, so now I know what the EP is going to be - it's going to be a full, full-throttle rock one."

Ditching some rumoured softer covers, including U2, Misfits, and Motörhead. 'Phantomime is instead a delectable slice of Ghost doing what Ghost do best: creating theatrically big rock. It's Tobias's mark upon some bonafide classics, including Iron Maiden's 'Phantom of the Opera' which feels as befitting to Ghost as it does seeing Papa Emeritus kick the bucket ready for his next iteration. While the focus was on creating this small dose of Tobias's musical DNA, it also served another purpose; to simply be "not very complicated." The project began with the mindset of "we can make this recording loosely - quick but stress-free - as opposed to making a record which is your hard fifth record that needs to live up to certain standards. So it was just a very inspired, very simple recording, actually."

After the complexities of 'Impera' which wound up requiring two studios simultaneously running in parallel "to be able to work efficiently" - Ghost was morphing into a taxing experience for the band leader, "It was just a bigger thing [and] way more stressful."

Deciding to strip that covers folder down to the five tracks, by all accounts, 'Phantomime was a measured and reserved effort. "It ended up being me, an engineer, and an occasional musician coming in and doing something. It was so much looser, so much more mentally Feng Shui," he smiles, relief glowing in his voice. "And I think that that reflected a little bit on the two different records. They're meant to be related - they are definitely related - they were made roughly in the same time, but they're completely different things."

'Phantomime' plays out like a ghoulish social commentary. Starting with a searing rendition of Televison's 'See No Evil, the journey traverses the scourge of Televangelism (Genesis' Jesus He Knows Me') with a delightfully-fitting NSFW video, the instant gratification humans require to feel (The Stranglers' Hanging Around"); the pull back into cruel reality (Phantom Of The Opera"), and the resulting undying hope from a degraded society (Tina Turner's 'We Don't Need Another Hero"). Each offering is bolstered with Ghost's dramatic, theatric rock licks and Tobias's powerhouse vocals.

With 'Phantomime' in the bag and the European leg of the 'Impera' tour imminent (Tobias is currently holed up in preparation), the idea of reflecting on how he came to go from a young boy listening to the static sounds of pop hits on the radio to orchestrating not only a feverishly adored band and its lore but finding the capacity to embrace his inner music nerd, couldn't be more timely. Tobias's relationship with music has always been one of intrigue. He's a pop songwriter with the ambition and ideas of a stadium rock band, which, in essence, explains perfectly why Ghost can sit in a unique, exponentially growing and expanding space.

"My earliest inclination of wanting to transform into something else was definitely Twisted Sister," he recalls. "You know, "I Want To Rock' and 'We're Not Going To Take It' - that was a huge record in 1984, and in 1984, I was three years old," he says. "My brother was 16, so everything that was going on pop-culturally amongst teenagers was happening in my home."

It was thanks to his brother that much of Tobias's relationship with music was formed. He's introduced him to various giants of the time, like tectonic plates being pushed around, impacting and shaping his musical landscape. Translating for young Tobias the attitude of punk at the time, as well as everything else that was 'in', he remembers, "When I was a kid, and he was supposed to babysit me, as a pacifier he would put me in front of [Sex Pistols mockumentary film] 'The Great Rock 'n' Roll Swindle"," he laughs. "And then when that was over, he would just switch to [X-rated cartoon] Fritz the Cat. And I loved that stuff, of course. That was as much [about] the expression and the attitude. Of course, I loved the songs, but it was also filtered or combined with big songs for me." Those big songs ("Men At Work 'Down Under'," he initially cites, "those sort of songs still have a unique place in my in my writing") would eventually entwine with his darker side that he'd explore as he grew older. "Whilst my whole adolescence was completely in the name of extreme metal, I always had a very soft spot for Top 40 rock and pop radio always," Tobias explains. "And I've listened to that all my life. So it's almost equal portions of Venom as it is anything. that was on the radio."

Also, witnessing shock and glam-rock bands explode intrigued Tobias. He became swept away in the idea that not only could you push a boundary to its absolute limits with convictions and over-the-top grandiosity, but you could do so with songs that quantifiably bop. But, as time has gone onto prove, it wasn't pop music that enamoured Tobias enough that he wanted to become a pop star. It's the mythology and mystery that has become his calling card.

Tobias remained an enigma under the disguise of an evolving form of the iconic Papa Emeritus (now in his fourth incarnation) until 2017, after a lawsuit from a previous iteration of his backing band's rotating cast, the Nameless Ghouls. Visual and video components to releases are often hoovered up by the fandom, stripped apart for meaning and potential. Instagram posts are referred to as a '[Message From The Clergy]" (a phrase later claimed for 2022's Best Of playlist), and lest it is forgotten, the Ghost 'Grucifix' - the prominent crucifix deconstructed into Tobias's gothic 'G' logo - which ties together the vision, religious imagery and satire that would become a core part of the Ghost experience.

His musical ambition and education colliding in the middle of his Venn diagram between dark metal and pop magic is thanks to the likes of the aforementioned Twisted Sister and W.A.S.P., as well as his teen years in the black metal community. "Their first record was also a huge impact in Swedish media," Tobias remembers. "There was this big sort of Satanic panic thing going on at the time in the fall of 1984. Where you had essentially all those things happening. You had Mötley Crüe 'Shout At The Devil', which came out a year earlier, and they were there because they toured with Iron Maiden in 1984, so there was a lot of focus on these shock-rock bands. I saw that as a kid, and I was immediately blown away - it was the coolest thing I've ever seen. And I think that that was the trigger that made me identify as that is how I want to express myself."

Decoding the songs he'd hear also became an integral part of that expression. "That was the only thing I did for years before I started writing my own songs." Recalling his time in kindergarten, they had a piano and guitar, which Tobias became infatuated with. Instead of playing with the other children, he would find himself enraptured, listening to the radio or flipping over whichever cassette happened to be loaded at the time. He would then imitate the sounds he was soaking up. "A lot of those early beginnings of how to learn and how I've learned how to understand music filters through everything I do now," he explains.

The early records he'd find himself trying to unpack included KISS 'Alive' and Pink Floyd's 'Piper At The Gates Of Dawn' - disparate matches, but undoubtedly Ghost fuel with hard rock melodies and psychedelic tendencies. "I had the first and the second Pink Floyd on a double LP that was called 'A Nice Pair'. And that's the shit that I sat and listened to and played guitar to," he says proudly. "That's weird music, that's really weird chord sequences and melodies that sort of went nowhere. And, that coloured me a lot in my vision of this is how you write a pop song. Of course, I knew more conventional writing as well. But I figured that this resonates with me, and I want to write more like that."

Tobias is the first to admit that the influence his musical exposure has had on him isn't the most straightforward. "For all the years that I was in bands, up until Ghost, basically when I was in bands not doing well, I got a lot of, I wouldn't say stick, but it was always like, 'You write weird songs, there's something weird about them, and it will never really become anything because it has that sort of weirdness to it".

As he grew, the songs he'd heard reflected this inherent strangeness he'd constructed. Before the days of mass formulaic pop factories, the music emanating from the radio abided by the strictest rule of needing to at least be approachable, but within these confines, artists of the 70s and 80s would push the envelope as far as they could. Citing Nik Kershaw's 'The Riddle' as one example, "Holy shit, if you would have taken that song and taken it to a chord structure masterclass amongst pop writers now who want to write songs for Miley Cyrus or The Weeknd or any of that sort of level they would say, no, no, no, no, that this will never work. It's too strange. It's too weird. You can't do that; it doesn't have the normal chord progression.

"There are a lot of songs from the 80s that are like that," he reckons, "compared to the now, more informative way of writing, the 80s was braver actually, and it worked well. And those songs are evergreens in a way that a lot of the top radio shit from seven years ago is forgotten, and that's the stuff that I grew up with when I started playing the guitar."

Having made that inner sanctum, he would enter kindergarten a reality, one where he can explore those recesses of his mind shaken by the musical earthquakes he experienced; now, he's matured and deeply entrenched in the reality. "Throughout the modern day of pop writing, I know a few professional pop songwriters, and we continue having these conversations because in pop," he says, "where some of them work prolifically on really high releases, they're like, it's strange how the business wants everything to be so informative. Everybody wants a weird song, but still, all the big songs are usually very, very formatted [and] very, very simple."

While unpacking the songs he'd heard back in the 80s offered Tobias a chance to comprehend what makes a good song, it, more importantly, helped him to set out doing it on his own. When digging into crafting a new Ghost number, Tobias explains that "each new song is a little bit like virgin territory with its own riddle to be solved, and is always a combination of the horror of maybe not solving the puzzle, with the thrill when you do. And it's never easy because each new song needs something new. And so you constantly need to feed your ability with knowledge about how other things are."

Breaking it down into a figurative example, he likens it to being like a detective. "I'm assuming that part of being a great detective is to constantly have an open mind, but also constantly learning about human behaviour and wha people do. If you just had 100 forensic classes, but you know nothing about people and how they live their lives, it's gonna be hard to solve crimes." The same rings true for writers who have to read to improve and further understand language, while comedians pull from real-life experiences - music is no different. Tobias's early days of stripping down songs to their basic parts and then rebuilding them have remained a constant endeavour. "But that's how you write songs as well; you go and absorb new things."

The covers process, as mentioned, is a release for Tobias. When things are stuck when trying to piece together a new chapter for the Ghost bible, a cover offers up a chance for something lighter. "Working on covers can be equally euphoric," he confirms, "because it's fun to understand a song whereas, on the other hand, it can be almost demoralising because you're like, I can't believe that this song is so much better than anything that I've written! And it's so much easier. It's so simple."

"I find myself overcomplicating things often, but you might not hear the complicated detour that I took to end up at the more understandable, straighter version that ended up being the actual recording," he continues. "That's a never-ending struggle because that's how it's supposed to be. It's not like you write the one song. I don't think I know anyone or know of anyone who's content with the idea of having written one huge song. And then you know, okay, that's nirvana for you. You don't write the one song the same way that if you're a comedian, it's not like, 'Oh, I just told the funniest joke. So now I'm done".

While Tobias is one for wanting to keep the ball rolling and on a constant endeavour to continue his musical evolution, he knows there's a limit. Every release of Ghost must have a purpose. Nodding to the 60s method of firing singles out on all fronts, eventually compiling them for a full-length release, Tobias acknowledges his relationship with his fans is based on a more long-term understanding. "That's not how we do things; we make an album, and off of that album, there are singles - it's a 70s/80s thinking. And I don't want to refrain from that - I don't want too many singles to be these autonomous little creatures."

But the world is different now. It's a Wild West where being in the masses' consciousness is key, so things may have to change for him. Admitting that right now, he knows he's post-release of Ghost's last canon entry, 'Impera', which arrived back in 2022, and while 'Phantomime' is a reasonable enough bridge, sooner or later, he's going to have to play the game of ensuring Ghost ramp up. Earlier this year, Ghost collaborated with Def Leppard's Joe Elliott on a re-release of 'Impera' cut 'Spillways' which, while a fantastic addition to their arsenal, adds to the same notion Tobias is fearful of. "I'm slowly preparing for making a new record that's going to come out in 2024, which is way too long for the current contemporary music climate; you need to be ever-present," the last phrase hanging in the air ominously.

That doesn't mean he has to lower his standards, however. No Ghost release will exist just for content's sake. Everything must have its place. He even reckons a 14-track album is "a lot of music", and he still sees an album as being "22 minutes of music per side" - true to form, currently, no standard issue of any Ghost album breaches 12 tracks. He's even ready to aim for the likes of The Rolling Stones and The Beatles by swiftly lobbing a couple of spicy takes out. "Look, man, I don't even think that 'Exile on Main Street' is that good. Not even the fucking White album is that great - break it up! Both of those records would have been better if they were trimmed down to singular records."

That pop mind breaking through; Tobias is someone who knows that music is entertainment. Certainly, a medium which often leads to more bulky connotations, but it must entertain. It's why he doesn't pay any mind to those naysayers that yearn for Ghost to be more metal or to follow a different path. This is Tobias's game; we're just privy to the sermon. These days the floodgates are open and, when compared to previous decades, as Tobias remembers it, "you had to buy your own records. Whatever additional music you got, that wasn't maybe heard on the TV or the radio, when you took something from someone else, was usually a choice, so music styles could in some way be a little bit more insular back then just because you weren't subjected to as much." He mentions his beloved death metal as being a signifier of the changes happening. "Back in the day, when I was starting listening to extreme metal, that was completely embraced by a certain little subculture or group of mostly teenagers and 20-somethings. Whereas in the 2000s, when Vice started doing black metal reporting, all of a sudden you have indie personalities who were fans of Darkthrone, and so, obviously, what ended up that turned into this fusion, which was a positive and very natural thing."

This cultural shift is another reason Ghost's space is widening and its success growing. "Nowadays, people are a little bit more open," he admits. But, with this comes issues. "As time has progressed, metal and hard rock, as well as most genres that have been around for a while, [they've] gone from this youth culture to a conservative institution because so many of the fans are now aged." The passage of time waits for no one. But, more presciently for culture, it also means our understanding of what is 'good' and what should be where is moulded differently to when we were younger. "Unfortunately, that happens to most people regardless of who you were when you were 20," Tobias reckons, "or your ideals when you're like 40/50/60 years old. Your brain starts morphing into a slightly more conservative, slightly more nostalgic... You don't want things to change."

Tobias is the first to hold his hands up and admit the same has happened to him. He yearns for 1984 and even 1990-94. He would even be happy with 1987, back to those days with the crackling radio and a childlike spirit. "That would be so much cooler. I loved that way more than in this day and age. But I can't sit around and mope about that because it's not a problem that it's not 1987."

'Phantomime' is proof nostalgia can be a useful tool. It fuels with passion, and Ghost is Tobias's Neverland. "There's such a debate about what we are and why that is." Ghost are a band that, thanks to Tobias's musical education, transcend time. They exist on their own plain and with the evergreen, timeless sounds of yesteryear echoing around Tobias's head, long may Papa reign with his gloved melodic iron fist.

[xalygatorx]

Unbound | Chapter 19, "Last Light"

Áine Ts'sambra—a wayward half-drow bard with a painful past—has her world upended when she's snatched up by a Nautiloid ship and furnished with a tadpole to the brain. In her journey to remove the infestation before it can turn her and her newfound companions illithid, she not only finds that their solution has more layers to parse through than she can count, but that a particular vampire in her party does as well.

Unbound is an ongoing generally SFW medium-burn romance based in the world of Baldur's Gate 3 between Astarion and a female OC. Any NSFW content will be marked in the Warnings section. Contains angst, fluff, explorations of trauma, spice, graphic fantasy violence, and a guaranteed happy ending.

For anything additional on what to expect (and not expect), check the preface post.

Summary: The party teams up with a group of Harpers and it takes all of their efforts to make it to safety. Áine convinces Jaheira to let them stay with the aid of an unexpected familiar face. While Karlach gets a second upgrade, Áine and Astarion run into the devil they know in Last Light and Astarion suggests grounds for a deal. Jaheira explains their plight concerning the shadow curse, what may lie ahead at Moonrise, and their most formidable enemy yet: Ketheric Thorm.

Pairing: Astarion x Fem!OC

Warnings: Graphic canon-appropriate fantasy violence; angst; descriptions of trauma-related anxiety; a little bit of Karlach x Dammon; lightly proofread

Word Count: 8.1k

Listening to: Artificial Nocturne - Metric

“YONAS, NO!”

“MEYGAN, DON’T, HE’S BEWITCHED!”

The earth itself hissed at their feet, writhing like snakes of pure shadow. The trees themselves seemed to bend low, their roots clawing upward, enticed by towering, spindly wraiths that emerged from the most innocuous darkness cast to the dirt. Great crackling screeches surged past maws that weren’t quite mouths, fingers as long as a forearm swiping at flesh and fire, desperate to swallow the light that weakened them for the prey that was wielding it. 

This was, doubtless, the home Áine remembered.

“HARPERS, STAY TO THE LIGHT,” Lassandra cried, but there was only so much she could do with a simple torch and she knew it.

“Quickly, to me!” Shadowheart shouted at their party, radiant energy surging from her fingertips. The light formed a swirling circle of tiny shining guardians around her. An obscured wraith lurking near her burned in its glow with a disjointed wail.

Instinctively, Áine looked for Astarion. She found him backing toward the circle, unloading arrows into an especially large encroaching wraith, its form and its eyes outlined red. Her eyes flickered to a movement near the rocky outcropping they passed, the muscle memory of old survival instincts taking over as she caught on the faint outline of another wraith reforming. With a flourish, she dashed in with her lost scimitars’ replacements at the ready.

Astarion was wary of wasting each of the few arrows he had left on this wretched thing as he exchanged them for knives. Not thirty paces into these cursed lands and they were already in a desperate fight for their lives. When Shadowheart had first beckoned them all into her circle, his most hated parts of himself had snarled despite knowing by this point that the tadpole would protect his undead body from her magic. Just another upside to the illithid worm in his skull.

Finally, the wraith before him began to falter, but he realized almost too late that it was because he had nearly backed into another of its kind. As he began to pivot to try to keep himself from being corralled between the two, he saw Áine dart in from the side, her shortsword imbued with radiant magic already dragging up the torso of the wraith behind him. It shuddered and disintegrated in a puff of smoke, leaving a spherical husk in its wake.

“Much obliged,” Astarion gritted as he swiped up through the red-tinted wraith still before him with his dagger, back-to-back with Áine as she swiped her sword at another advancing but much weaker wraith. 

“Switch with me!” Áine ordered and they spun in formation. She brought the flat of her blade up to block a downward swipe from the reddened wraith and her shortsword glowed with a radiance that threw the shadow just off-kilter enough for Astarion to duck under her arm and stealthily kill it while Áine distracted it. 

“Shadowheart!” they heard Gale shout, both turning to see the guardian circle flicker and then extinguished as the cleric failed to recover from a particularly hard hit to her head that sent her to her knees. The remaining wraiths grew impossibly taller as they descended on the group. Karlach began to reach down for Shadowheart but remembered herself and growled pure frustration at her infernal engine as she took her anxious rage out on their enemies instead. Wyll and Gale bent to try and hoist her up, repeatedly having to fend off the creeping shadows as they reached for them and their fallen. 

“Chk, out of my way!” Lae’zel hissed as she shoved past the men and hauled Shadowheart over her shoulder, lunging into a sprint after the retreating Harpers, who were calling for them to follow while Halsin ran in bear form with them up ahead, carrying two of their collapsed warriors on his back. “Keep them off us!”

Karlach cut down what she could after Lae’zel ran past her with Shadowheart and Wyll held at the tiefling’s flank, the Blade in full form as he swirled his rapier and loosed bolts of eldritch power from his fingertips. 

“We need to go!” Áine cried and Astarion followed her gaze to the top of the outcropping, where more shadow-cursed creatures were beginning to unravel from the death-dried brush and twist free of the dark. The two turned tail and Astarion gripped Áine’s hand as they ran to ensure they weren’t separated. 

“Come on, come on!” Gale urged them, his eyes rounded with horror as they flickered past the pair. A conjuration of dancing lights hovered around him, just barely throwing a glow against the intensifying darkness, and when Astarion and Áine caught up with him, he extended his hand as well. Áine caught it in hers and the conjuration extended along their line, encircling Astarion and burning away the hooked hand of a wraith hovering just inches from his silver head.

The three sprinted to join Wyll and Karlach, who ran alongside them as soon as they saw their full party accounted for. Wyll shot another red blast from his hands at a wraith attempting to attack Lae’zel and Shadowheart just ahead of them, successfully burning a hole through the creature’s essence.

“Almost there!” Wyll cried.

An enormous globe of moon magic parsed the dark like a beacon and it was where the Harpers were leading them all. In quick succession, the party bowled through the barrier, stumbling into and over each other as soon as the light was breached. Áine, Gale, and Astarion were the last ones through and only realized just how close behind them their enemies were when Harper Yonas, gnarled and rotting alive in streaks of black and sickly green, neared the barrier in his pursuit and screamed unholy murder when it burned his undead flesh.

Áine’s chest heaved with exertion, letting go of Gale’s hand but keeping Astarion’s as she breathed thanks to the wizard. That had brought back memories. She supposed that she should get used to things doing that in this place. A cool hand on her cheek brought her eyes upward to meet her lover’s. He was just as winded but looked more concerned about her. 

Astarion parted his lips to speak when his gaze suddenly shot up to look over Áine’s head. She followed suit and saw a formidable woman in High Harper garb advancing on them and looking none too friendly. 

Áine let go of Astarion’s hand, feeling him try to snatch her back, but she deftly wove between his hands and hurried toward the front of the group. She barely had time to say a thing before she nearly doubled over, her feet held in place by a restrictive tangle of vines wrapping around her ankles and up her calves.

Behind her in a hushed voice, Áine heard Karlach gasp, “Oh Gods, that’s Jaheira!”

At least Karlach seemed to think that was a positive thing, she supposed. The apparently well-known Jaheira stopped in front of Áine, a green glow emitting from her palm that mirrored the aura of the vines. It was an improvement only in that this green resembled the lushness of a healthy forest rather than the sickly hue of necrotic magic they’d just evaded. 

Jaheira gave her a narrow, speculative look after taking in her companions, who all looked disarmed at their welcome and further on edge after Áine was ensnared. Áine grumbled as she tried to free herself, leveling a glower at the druid. 

“Just once I wish people would just say ‘hello’,” she muttered.

Almost pleasantly, Jaheira smirked at the bard and said, “Hello.”

Áine snorted and ceased her struggling, just aiming to stand up straight as she and Jaheira took each other in. Behind her, Gale quipped, “We save your Harpers and this is our thanks?”

“Kindness is too often a decoy,” Jaheira snapped.

“It’s okay, Gale, I’ll handle this,” Áine said over her shoulder, raising one placating hand. He inclined his head and fell silent, kneeling to check on Shadowheart instead as Lae’zel set her down.

“You most certainly will,” Jaheira agreed, her eyes back on Áine as she produced a glass bottle from her robes. Áine’s eyes fell to the bottle and her jaw tensed. There was an illithid tadpole inside. “This is why we’re here, you see. It is a curious creature that hides all manner of secrets. But if there’s one thing that we know…”

Áine stiffened as Jaheira walked closer to her, extending her hand holding the bottled parasite. “...it’s that it knows its own kind.” As if on cue, the parasite’s attention shifted to Áine and it swirled in its prison, thin razorlike teeth snapping at the glass. Her own tadpole pulsed with recognition. Bastards.

Satisfied, Jaheira stowed the tadpole again and glared at Áine as she slowly drew one of her blades. “You should never have come here, True Soul.”

Áine heard steel begin scraping free of its sheathes behind her as her companions readied to defend her and she held out both her hands between her party and Jaheira. “Just hold on, this isn’t what you think, I’m—”

“STOP!”

A shrill, familiar cry rose to Áine’s aid. She searched for the source, only to draw up empty until she lowered her gaze. A tiefling child with a bandaged eye scampered to the forefront, tail swishing agitatedly. Áine’s eyes widened. “Mol?”  

“What are you doing?” Mol demanded of Jaheira, her audacity seeming perfectly intact. “She’s the one who saved us!”

Jaheira regarded the child with shock and disbelief. “She’s the one who protected the Emerald Grove?” she asked. The doubt was palpable in her tone.

“Yup!” Mol chirped. “Didn’t leave a goblin standing! Not so bad to hang around with either.” She tossed a cheeky grin Áine’s way. “Saved two of my friends, too! One from a harpy and one from a mad druid with a snake.” She shrugged at Jaheira as if it were just that simple and the druid was the fool for thinking otherwise. “I’d pretty much trust her with my life.”

Áine was surprised and impressed that Jaheira believed her. “A True Soul with a mind of her own… How is that possible?” she wondered, looking back to Áine.

The bard’s lips pursed as she measured Jaheira’s expression, what she knew of the High Harper so far. Opting for a calculated risk, Áine reached into her pack, in a hidden pocket where the artefact rested.

“This is unwise,” the golden paladin’s voice droned in her head.

Fuck off, she thought back at the voice, still very much on the offensive when it came to the untrustworthy being in the polyhedric prism. 

The persistent “guardian” was helping her and her comrades, but the motives were still unknown and untrustworthy. She’d only for a moment considered trusting the guardian she met in the Astral and that had been when she’d considered the possibility that it could be the Oathbreaker Knight in another form. Now that she knew that wasn’t the case, she bristled every time she was reminded that the stranger existed.

Áine’s fingertips found purchase on the artefact and she slid it from her pack. She held it out for Jaheira’s inspection, only wary of it being snatched from her although it did seem to have a penchant for finding its way back to her hands.

Jaheira eyed the strange object with the glowing seams and symbols and produced the bottled parasite again, experimentally holding the bottle near the prism. The tadpole inside shuddered and beat itself against the glass a few times before falling into a state of inertness. Jaheira’s eyes widened. “What in the Hells is that thing?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Áine admitted the half-truth. “So far though it’s been a lifesaver.”

“Hmph,” Jaheira hummed, satisfied enough to stow the static parasite and sheathe her drawn blade. “Well, congratulations. You’ve earned yourself the benefit of the doubt.” She turned to address her crew. “Hear me, Harpers! All clear. At ease.”

The vines dissipated from Áine’s legs and the Harpers around them put away their weapons and returned to their tasks. Lassandra shot Áine a relieved look and a nod as she passed them to lead her wounded troop to the inn.

“Are you alright?” Astarion whispered near Áine’s ear, startling her a little as she hadn’t heard him approach. Then again, when did she ever? 

Áine looked up at him and smiled, nodding. “I’m fine,” she affirmed, her hand finding his again like a magnetic pull. He threaded their fingers together in much the same way.

“I’ll not pretend to understand what that artefact is,” Jaheira said, addressing them again. “But I’m old and wise enough to recognize a sliver of hope when it crawls out of the dark.” She cocked her head a little as she took in their party again, with curiosity this time rather than caution. “Tell me, why have you come here?”

Áine smirked. “Would you believe me if I told you I was on holiday?”

Jaheira smirked back and Áine had a feeling she may have found a kindred spirit. “Well, lucky for you, you’d be just in time for happy hour,” Jaheira quipped, confirming Áine’s hope. She gestured behind her toward the buildings teeming with Harpers and tieflings. “Welcome to Last Light. There’s food in the inn over there. Beds too if you require rest. And aloe oil on the shelf in case the vines gave you a rash.” Jaheira’s gaze fastened anew on Áine. “Settle in. Then come join me for a drink. You just might be the godsend we’ve been praying for.”

She left them to their own devices at that and Áine finally let some of the tension fall from her shoulders. Áine glanced at Shadowheart, now upright and looking a little better. At her inquisitive glance, the cleric simply nodded her reassurance.

“Do you think Dammon’s here too?” Karlach asked suddenly as she, too, noticed several familiar faces in the crowd.

“It looks like a lot of the refugees ended up here,” Áine murmured, recognizing face after face the more she looked. They should’ve been to the city by now. “Gods above, what happened?”

The party divided—some finding a space to set up their tents to afford the other inn residents the beds inside and some accompanying Karlach to go look for Dammon. It left Áine, Astarion, Halsin, and Wyll to investigate the inn itself. 

It didn’t take long to lose Halsin to a side room, in which he apparently saw or heard something of interest. The remaining three found Alfira at the inn’s center and managed to catch up on the refugees’ troubles from her and another tiefling nearby, a paladin who had much to say about Zevlor and his abandonment of his people. 

Initially, Áine had been shocked to see so many of them here, but now that she really looked around her, she realized how few of them were left. Her insides twisted.

“If you are bound for Moonrise Towers,” Alfira murmured, her laugh lines lax in her terrified expression. She winced at her own words. “If you must go, please see if you can find the others. If they are still alive, they’ll be there.”

The name, as ever, sent a chill through Áine’s bones. “We will look for them and, if they’re there, we’ll get them out,” she promised. She half-expected to hear a scoff from Astarion behind her but was surprised when that wasn’t the case. 

“Thank you,” Alfira whispered, her voice cracking. “But please, please be careful. I can’t lose anyone else. I don’t think I could bear it.”

Áine smiled, gently squeezing Alfira’s hands before she turned to face her companions, only to find them both gone. A cursory glance around the inn revealed that Wyll had strayed to the bar and appeared to be chastising a very inebriated Rolan over his treatment of the nearby children. And Astarion…

Her eyes widened and she immediately started walking to the far side of the building. Her steps brought her closer to Astarion, who had his back to her, and yet another familiar face past his shoulder. This familiarity, however, was no friend.

“A proposal?” Raphael was musing as she walked over, seeming to raise his voice just so she could hear while on her way. “If you’re hoping to taste my blood, little vampling, think again. It burns hotter than Wyvern Whiskey.”

“This is serious business, devil,” Astarion snipped. His tone wavered as he explained, “My old—well, a long time ago, someone carved some runes into my back. I’d rather like to know what they say.”

“Astarion, what are you doing?” Áine asked, managing to startle him. She suspected he was more startled at being caught than at her presence. She looked to Raphael, who just smiled at her coyly as always. “And you. Are you following us?”

“Good to see you again, Áine dear,” Raphael addressed her silkenly, ignoring her question. “I’d ask if you’d made any progress with your little problem, but the telltale twitching of your eye is answer enough.”

“The last thing we need is your meddling, Raphael,” she warned him. 

The fire of her words just seemed to encourage him. “You wound me. I’ve only tried to be a friend to you—just as to the poor souls here, where hope hangs by a single thread. I can mend it or cut it…depending on what they ask for.”

“I suppose that answers my question as to why you’re here,” Áine murmured. “You get off on this.”

“Not quite, pet,” Raphael scoffed with a wave of his hand. “It’s simply sumptuous. My last contract here fed me for decades.” A faint sneer tweaked his lips. “Something you may know quite intimately.” Áine parted her lips to fire back, but he interrupted her, “Alas if you want to know more, I could work in the exchange of such precious knowledge into the terms of your future deal. But the time for quibbling over clauses and contracts hasn’t quite arrived. You’ll be limping back to me soon enough.” He smiled, relishing the image.

“Your business tonight lies with me, devil,” Astarion growled. “Not with her.”

Áine’s heart twinged at Astarion’s protectiveness and she leveled a look at Raphael. She didn’t like that Astarion was entertaining a deal with a devil, but she’d at least ensure he got more details. 

“I don’t think he knows,” she implied loftily of Raphael’s knowledge regarding Astarion’s scars, challenging the Infernal’s ego.

“Really?” Raphael drawled, the look he turned to her now devoid of amusement. He glanced back to Astarion and Áine almost shuddered at the look of hunger in the devil’s eyes as he addressed her partner. “It’s something very important to your master. But is it a love letter? A warning? A deed of ownership? I could give you all the gory details.” He sneered. “But, of course, you’ll have to do something for me first. Let me think about it and get back to you.”

Astarion scoffed. “You’ll ‘get back to me’?! This is important, devil!” He grappled with the situation for a moment before finally relinquishing and asking, “...When?”

“Don’t worry, I’m motivated to help you. Scars often tell such wonderful stories… I think yours might be truly exquisite.” Raphael smiled sinisterly at them both. “I’ll see you soon.”

The devil disappeared in a quick flash of light, leaving the couple on their own. Áine looked up at him imploringly and he avoided her eyes. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but… Are you mad?” she asked, worry plain on her face.

Astarion sighed. This was precisely why he’d seized his opportunity to talk to Raphael alone while Áine was discussing the refugees with Alfira. “I’m desperate, darling. There’s a slight difference,” he snipped back. 

“But why?” Áine asked. “I mean, of course you’d want to understand them, but so much that you’d contract with a devil? Why not ask anyone else first? Why not ask Karlach even?”

“I did,” Astarion said, turning to face Áine. The way he was looking down his nose at her made her want to flick him in it. “The dialect is too ancient. Even knowing some Infernal from her time in Avernus, she couldn’t make horned heads or forked tails of it.”

Áine sighed, giving him a doubtful look. “Why didn’t you mention it before? That you wanted to ask for Raphael’s help?”

Astarion felt cornered and acted accordingly. Beneath the irritation was the source of truth—he was anxious that he’d done something wrong or that, even if he hadn’t, he’d still managed to upset her. That truth was buried under layers of masking. “I was under the impression from you that I didn’t need your permission to go about my business,” he said with a sharp tone.

Áine flushed with chagrin and he felt the part of a true villain. It wasn’t nearly as fun as he’d always thought it would be. “You don’t,” she said coolly, her mouth drawing a thin line after she spoke.

Astarion huffed and waved a dismissive hand toward where Raphael had stood. “Right, well… What’s done is done. Now why don’t we stop talking about it and just get on with things?” he griped.

“Fine,” Áine sighed, not particularly liking the way this was wrapping up, but knowing she’d not make it any better by prolonging it. 

I wish you wouldn’t push me away, she posited silently instead, knowing what old learned survival instincts of his had brought those tones and accusations to the surface and still finding they stung. 

Astarion frowned, watching Áine lead them from the inn, presumably to go find Karlach and the others before they sat down with Jaheira. He knew they weren’t perfect—far from it. They bickered regularly, but fairly, and usually over her taking up odd jobs for little to no cost out of the goodness of her golden heart. He’d not been fair with what he’d thrown her way just now and he’d known that from the second he’d wound back to pitch. He’d still thrown the blow. And Áine was very good at holding herself back from fighting with him when that happened. He wanted to vent his frustration, he wanted to not be questioned, and she complied in the one way he couldn’t spar with. It was her checkmate and it worked every time.

For an instant, he mused over how long it had been since she’d last had to use it. He felt apologetic, but unwilling to apologize and potentially invite further pushback. He had to know what these runes meant. He had to seal that aspect of his past if he was damned to carry it with him physically for the remainder of his existence. Even if it necessitated a deal with a devil.

A loud hiss nearby snapped him from his reverie and he looked over just in time to see an offended-looking sphynx cat loping away from where Áine stood, stock-still and looking guilty. She straightened from her crouch and awkwardly rested her hands against the back of her neck, her expression disheartened but understanding. 

When she turned and met Astarion’s eyes, she looked sheepish. His sour mood melted some. “What on earth did you do to it?” he teased her.

“I just offered my hand!” Áine insisted, genuinely looking aggrieved that she’d been so viciously rejected. “I couldn’t help but try. It was a cat! I can’t remember the last time I saw a cat…”

Astarion couldn’t help the soft smile that eased his expression. He hesitated to move closer to her, but couldn’t help that either, and crossed the short distance to place a doting hand against her hair. The span of his hand nearly covered her crown. “I should have known you’d have a soft spot for cats as you’ve had for everything else mildly domesticated that we’ve run across,” he mused. 

“I kept you, didn’t I?”

“Funny,” Astarion remarked, his tone dripping with sarcasm. His eyes flickered after the little bald beast that had fled their vicinity. “I would hardly call that a cat though.”

Áine peeked up at him from under his hand. “Don’t be rude,” she chastised him gently.

He chuckled and shifted his hand down to her shoulder, tucking her into his side as he resumed their path out of the inn. “It was rude to you,” Astarion reasoned and, as a sidelong apology, noted, “and I won’t have my little love’s feelings be wounded by some common mole rat.”

That got through to her. Áine smirked as she held back a laugh, dropping her head forward to hide her blush as she playfully knocked her shoulder against his side. Astarion chuckled and squeezed her close enough to drop a kiss on her head, stabilizing her through the little stumble he caused her in doing so.

The couple located the rest of their group, save for Halsin and Wyll, gathered near the stables, watching with bated breath as Dammon worked the infernal iron they’d gathered into a usable part and turned to hand it to Karlach. 

Áine noted the little sparkle in Dammon’s eyes when he looked at their beloved barbarian again—it wasn’t even close to the first time she’d seen it either. Every time they’d come to see him since Karlach joined their ranks, he had an extra glow about him that wasn’t just the light thrown off Karlach’s engine. It was very sweet.

A mechanical clank met their ears as they stopped near the others, the sound of the new part finding its home in Karlach’s chest. She paused heavily, seeming almost scared to ask, “Well… Did it work?”

Dammon smiled and the expression was nothing short of affectionate. “Only one way to find out,” he suggested. As Karlach hesitated and cast him a shy, questioning glance, Dammon chuckled and opened his arms. 

Áine felt the faint sting of tears at the corners of her eyes as Karlach moved closer, hesitantly at first and then more confidently when Dammon didn’t immediately catch on fire. Well, in the literal sense, at least. Karlach’s watery laugh of disbelief as she embraced Dammon—embraced anyone for the first time in years—was the bard’s undoing.

“You little sap,” Astarion accused her low in her ear when he caught her getting emotional. 

Áine just shrugged. She couldn’t disagree with his statement. She just leaned her head against his shoulder and was humbled yet again by the plights of her dear friends that, as much as she���d suffered in this world, there were still a great many things she’d never suffered that she’d always taken for granted. Despite his teasing, Astarion tightened his arm around her, his thumb tracing soothing paths against the curve of her shoulder.

Karlach had immediately started doling out hugs to anyone who would let her, babbling through heavy streaks of tears that rolled unevaporated down her beaming features. “My second family and I can finally hug you, I can’t believe it!” she half-sobbed as she held a very content Shadowheart and a confused but willing Lae’zel in each arm.

By the time she turned her gaze to Áine and Astarion, Áine was practically vibrating with anticipation. All the times she’d wanted to give Karlach a reassuring pat, hug, or squeeze up to this point (at times just barely remembering the peril before she laid hands on the red-hot tiefling) were accumulating into the voracity of the hug she was about to bestow on the woman. Astarion was a little less sure but unleashed Áine from his arm like a wolfhound to buy himself some time.

Áine and Karlach both squealed like schoolgirls as the bard ran and leapt into her waiting arms. Astarion chuckled at the display, thinking he might give Áine a tidbit of hell later for never being that excited to hug him. The thought alone surprised him—he’d come quite far from where he’d started in her company. Once artfully dodging every reason to have physical contact with anyone now that he was no longer forced to, he craved her touch in the simplest sense. 

He smirked to himself. How utterly strange.      

“Astarion…?” Karlach inquired carefully, getting his attention away from his musings. She was practically bursting with affection and it unnerved him, but she was waiting on his decision. Giving him the reins. 

A pang of dread lanced through him despite not being able to assign any rational reason to it. It was Karlach after all. She respected his boundaries. She was asking his permission with that puppy-dog look she always got in her bright emotive eyes. And yet still there was that fear deep down that would probably exist until he at least tried. That had been the case with Áine after all, he’d just had more of a drive to bridge that gap with her for both selfish and unselfish reasons.

His anxious gaze met Áine’s, who had since been set back down on the ground. She was observing them both and Astarion tried not to acknowledge that the others were watching them as well. Astarion cleared his throat, trying to pin down his feelings. He…wanted to hug her, he realized. He wanted to try anyway. And yet he was rooted to the spot.

Karlach was about to brush it off with more kindness than he believed was due, but Áine spoke first. “I think I have an idea,” she said with a gentle smile to the nervous vampire nearby. She could feel it rolling off him in waves, but she could also see the ache in his eyes. 

Astarion regarded her curiously and, as soon as he seemed open to whatever that idea was, Áine nodded for him to go up to Karlach and her still-open arms. He drew in a shaky breath out of pure habit and ventured in like a frightened animal, skeptical of there being any plan until he felt Áine step in behind him. Were it anyone but Áine, he would have felt boxed in, but he trusted her. Even so, Astarion wasn’t entirely sure what difference having her behind him would make until they were both folded into Karlach’s embrace and the tiefling’s hands rested against Áine’s back instead of his. 

A lump formed in his throat. She was shielding his scars.

As if to confirm it, Áine dropped a featherlight kiss to the leather of his armor, right over where they both knew one of the runes lay. Through that reassurance, Astarion found it in him to lift his arms and very lightly place them against Karlach’s sides, patting her back for good measure. It wasn’t his first hug in recent days, but it was his first time hugging anyone other than Áine in over two centuries. Still, Karlach was being very cautious not to crowd him, he noticed. Her arms were secure but didn’t feel like anything he couldn’t maneuver out of if he wanted to. 

Oddly, he found he didn’t want to. As it turned out, a friend’s embrace wasn’t so bad either. And even though her engine had been cooled considerably, she was still unbelievably warm. It was…pleasant.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough,” he groused after a moment, softening it with a small smirk as he stepped back and the girls let him go without a fuss. He glanced between Karlach, who was somehow even more wet with tears, and Áine’s features positively radiating love and pride. “Both of you stop what you’re doing this instant. Avert your eyes if you must.”

“Oh, FANGS!” Karlach squealed with a little choked sob. “Thank you!”

“Yes, yes, you’re welcome,” Astarion muttered back bashfully, refusing to acknowledge all the soft looks he was getting from the rest of their party. Bleeding Hells, he’d have to murder one of them to maintain his reputation at this point.

The high spirits dampened with unease when the group, gathered in full once again and approached Jaheira as requested. She was poised over a small desk, the surface of which was spread with maps and what looked like an unfinished battle plan. She carefully tucked the documents aside as she placed two goblets and a bottle of wine on the surface instead. 

“Please. Be welcome. Have a drink,” Jaheira suggested, her sharp eyes on Áine as she filled both goblets. She raised hers in a toast. “To your very good health.”

Áine smiled back at her and raised her glass toward her lips. However, instead of sipping it immediately, she inhaled the bouquet, earning a mix of strange and approving looks from her gathered companions. As anticipated, something was in hers. It smelled herby and, as she sifted through the potent aroma of the wine, familiar even. It was klauthgrass. A natural truth serum. One of many smells she’d been introduced to young and taught to avoid.

In truth, she probably still held some measure of tolerance to the stuff. She briefly considered drinking the spiked wine to let Jaheira think that she was under the herb’s influence while her body easily overrode its effects, but she didn’t want to start on that foot with this woman. If Jaheira wouldn’t be honest, Áine decided she would be.

“It doesn’t spoil the taste if that’s what you’re wondering,” Jaheira remarked with a knowing look, watching Áine all the while.

“Mm, it does spoil the trust though,” Áine said, setting the full goblet back on the table. By now any strange looks that had arisen behind her had faded, catching that there was something extra in the drink. While Áine was turned away from them, unable to see their faces, she could sense their tension ease away and she perhaps unfairly wondered what she’d done to still earn so much skepticism from certain members of her party.

You’re really going to judge them for questioning their leadership? You? she chastised herself, almost snickering at the irony.

“Humor me,” Jaheira pressed, her tone implying no room for leeway. 

“Add some to yours as well and I’ll be happy to,” Áine suggested. “I seek a level ground and I’ll settle for nothing less.”

“Suit yourself,” Jaheira said, sipping long from her own wine. Áine took a mental note that Jaheira hadn’t paused to entertain her suggestion of a compromise. Interesting. “Well over a century old and yet it still hasn’t lost a bit of flavor. Still not quite so sure about you though.”

Áine tilted her head. “In what sense?”

“Well, people tend to lose more than flavor when illithids get their hands on them. I speak from experience,” the druid explained, surprising Áine with her admission. She must’ve been a thrall in another time and had somehow survived it. Newborn respect settled in Áine’s gaze and Jaheira was pleased to see it although it didn’t curb her nerves. “There’s an air about you. Something…alien.” Jaheira’s brow furrowed and turned almost pleading despite her tone remaining firm and commanding. “Answer me true and do not lie: the parasite is changing you, isn’t it?”

Áine considered her question with no intent to lie but with intent to give a fair answer. “From what we know, our parasites exist in a stasis right now. The artefact is keeping them that way when others would have transformed by this point,” Áine tried to explain. “There’s a tadpole in my brain. There’s no refuting that and there’s no refuting that it must be changing me somehow. However, past a handful of abilities I’ve seldom used, I feel that I’m the same person as when we began.”

Jaheira seemed satisfied with Áine’s answer. She wouldn’t have believed a firm “no,” but she did wish for it for the sake of those she protected. Jaheira gestured with her free hand toward the inn surrounding them. “Look around you—good men, good women. Stranded here with two feet in the grave. If we’re to survive, I have no choice but to trust you,” Jaheira stated. Her eyes narrowed. “Can I?”

“You can,” Áine said, “but will you?”

“I have every reason to be cautious. It is far from anything mirroring personal. I’ve traced people like you, people with parasites in their brains, all the way from here to Baldur’s Gate,” Jaheira explained. “The cult of the Absolute is spreading throughout the city—quietly, quickly, and with unsettling deliberation. We tracked them to this ancient village only to be faced with a man we killed and buried over a century ago.”

Áine’s blood ran cold and she was glad someone else took that moment to insert a clever quip because she had none to spare.

“If he’s back, maybe you should’ve hit him harder in the first place,” Wyll implied, earning looks from Halsin and Karlach both. He quieted—that was an intimidating combination of scoldings to earn.

Jaheira was unoffended. “Believe me, he was well and truly dead. I locked his corpse in the Thorm mausoleum myself,” she said. 

The surname alone made Áine’s heart start to pick up its tempo. Yet again, only Astarion noticed her distress because he could hear it. He had questions, but he made mental notes of them all, reserving them for later away from Jaheira and the rest of their party. 

“He was a Sharran once,” Jaheira was saying. “Took to building an army of Dark Justiciars beneath this very village. Alongside the local druids, we made it our business to see him deposed. Dead and buried. But he has returned.” Jaheira’s expression became something nearing distressed. “Not only does General Ketheric Thorm live again, but it seems he’s no longer mortal. He has become, in fact, invincible.”

Ice in her veins. Thunder in her heart. Still, Áine found her voice. “Come again?” she asked. The trouble was that she already knew, as much as she could know, the answer to her own question. But she needed to ask it. Perhaps something had shifted with the arrival of the cult. 

“We met him on the road here. Commanding an army of the Absolute, intent on destroying Baldur’s Gate. I put an arrow through his eye, myself, only to watch him pluck it out like a splinter,” Jaheira explained, pantomiming her memory of his movements. “He healed right in front of me. Chased us into the shadows. Things looked hopeless, but experience has taught me that no matter how bleak things look, there is always hope.” She sighed, looking almost sorry as she said, “You are that hope.”

“We’ve been hearing that quite a bit lately,” Shadowheart sighed. Áine wondered if her interest had been piqued at the mention of the Dark Justiciars.

“Protected by your artefact, you can infiltrate his forces at Moonrise Towers posing as a True Soul. Find out what it is that makes him invincible so we can strip him of his advantage,” Jaheira implored them. “Once Ketheric is without his shield, together we will assault his tower and put an end to this blight.”

Áine nodded slowly, sighing through her nose. What choice did she have? “Alright,” she agreed.

Jaheira was surprised by her response or at least her lack of pushback, that much was clear. “Without a cure for your infection, your days are numbered, too. Yet you selflessly offer to spend them fighting alongside us…,” she murmured. A crooked smile crossed her lips. “I like you.” 

Áine smiled back. “What have we got to lose, you know?” she asked. The question was rhetorical but somber, too, and that wasn’t lost on Jaheira.

The druid nodded. “I promise I will do everything I can to make sure you survive this. But any cure starts with understanding the disease. Whatever magic Ketheric’s using to control these tadpoles, it has to be at Moonrise.”

“What about the shadow curse?” Gale asked. “We need more than torches if we’re meant to be out in those shadows for any length of time.”

“You are not our only secret weapon,” Jaheira said. She nodded her head toward the upper floor of the inn. “Isobel—a faithful cleric of Selûne and a light in the darkness. She cast the moon shield around the inn. It’s the only reason we’re still alive. She’s upstairs in her chambers—tell her I sent you and she’ll see you through the shadows safely.”

Isobel? Áine wondered. Surely that couldn’t be a coincidence? Her gaze slanted toward the room Jaheira had indicated. It was heartening to her that, if this was the same Isobel, she’d chosen to resist the sins of her father. 

At least if her assumptions were correct, they already had something in common.

“Well, you’ve finally made it back to these godsforsaken lands, Halsin,” Wyll mused later, the bubbling of Gale’s stewpot and the grind of Lae’zel’s whetstone providing familiar background noise in their little setup beneath the dome of the moon shield. “How does it feel?”

Halsin smiled sadly toward the fire, running a hand over his scarred but handsome features. “It feels bitterly familiar,” he said. “What Jaheira said about the first time Ketheric Thorm was lain in the ground? I was there. I was among the druids who fought him back, who killed him only for him to come back unkillable. And he took the vitality of this land with him.”

“Do you think there’s any way to break the curse?” Gale wondered as he stirred their dinner.

“There must be. And I will find it,” Halsin said, not an ounce of his tone to be disbelieved. “Earlier before we spoke with Jaheira, I discovered something in the inn. A man. Near-comatose but somehow still very much alive despite, I believe, existing within the Shadowfell for quite some time.”

“Impossible,” Shadowheart said, her brow creasing. “No one could—”

“Just what I thought as well,” Halsin agreed. “He spoke of Thaniel repeatedly in his sleep. The spirit of this land, long lost to the dark. If there is a way to get Thaniel back, to trace where he may be in the Shadowfell, where I can only imagine Ketheric or his justiciars imprisoned him…then perhaps we can free this land of its malignance as well.” Halsin shook his head. “I need more information though. I must see this through.”

Gale had just taken up a ladle to serve dinner when his glance around the camp came up short. “Say, where’s Karlach? And Áine?”

“Karlach is off flirting with Dammon, I believe,” Shadowheart said cheekily. “And Áine… Well, I don’t know where she snuck off to. Astarion?”

The vampire’s vermillion gaze flickered toward the cleric at the mention of his name. He was lost in his thoughts, still parsing their conversation with Jaheira and also mulling over his exchange with Raphael, wondering when he’d be “graced” with the devil’s presence again. Not knowing what would be expected of him in their potential deal for a translation of his scars was putting him firmly on edge. 

To Shadowheart, Astarion said, “Resting by the water, last I knew. I intend to bring her some dinner.”

Gale nodded, setting up a bowl of stew packed full of fresh ingredients from the inn and fresh bread as well. Astarion took the food when offered it, feeling a little strange at handling actual food for the first time in who knew how long. He supposed since he’d sliced up that apple for Áine the morning after she’d let him drink from her for the first time.

“Bit odd for her to wander off,” Wyll noted, leaning back a little to try and see down to the dark lakeshore. “She’s been acting peculiar since we got here, has anyone else noticed?”

“Difficult to say,” Shadowheart said, her tone a bit pointed in defense of her friend. “Since we immediately ended up in a fight for our lives and were then threatened and interrogated and we’ve just been granted some respite. I don’t blame her for taking a moment to herself.”

Their debate faded behind Astarion as he took his spoils away from the firelit circle of tents. He glanced toward Scratch lying nearby and gave a quick whistle that captured the dog’s attention and brought him in step with the vampire as he sought out his lover. It didn’t take him too long to find her—she sat under a tree on a small ledge overlooking the water, her eyes fastened skyward on the moon.

Scratch pranced ahead of Astarion and snapped Áine out of her trance with a lick to her cheek, startling her. She smiled as she petted the dog affectionately but her expression didn’t touch her eyes. 

When she saw Astarion bringing her dinner, her features softened. “What have I done to earn such service?” she wondered, adding a thank-you when he bent to deliver the food into her hands.

Before he answered her, Astarion gave a scolding click of his tongue toward Scratch when the dog started to beg. “Not a whine out of you, you’ve had yours,” Astarion informed the pup, who exhaled the dog equivalent of a sigh and settled down at Áine’s side, placing his head on his paws. “Don’t believe him, Gale fed him plenty while he was cooking.”

Áine laughed softly and nodded, settling the food on her lap and resting her head back against the trunk of the tree. “Can’t blame him for trying.”

Astarion reclined in the grass beside her, looking up at her with his head propped up by his elbow. She looked pale. She made no move to eat and her eyes simply looked dull and melancholy. “You should eat, darling,” he urged her, nodding toward her cooling stew. “You haven’t eaten since our last suppertime.”

Áine rolled her head against the tree to peer down at him, her smile at least holding a bit of playfulness this time. That was an improvement in his eyes. “Keeping tabs on me, love?”

“As if it’s anything new,” he mumbled, squinting a little at the fathomless look in her dark eyes. He slid his free hand to rest against her thigh. “What’s wrong?”

Áine’s features hardened the slightest bit, almost imperceptibly. “What do you mean?”

Astarion’s brows rose at her tone, almost offended until he reined himself in. What he was feeling now was how she’d felt earlier when he’d spoken to Raphael, he wagered. Two could play her game then. He exhaled his frustration at her dodge and instead of fighting back, reframed his approach. “Don’t push me away, sweet girl,” he murmured, a silent “please” threaded into his words.

Her eyes rounded a little and she looked immediately guilty, her throat tightening as she looked away from him, down at her food. He watched her jaw work as she warred with herself and waited for her to respond. Maybe he’d just upset her more and thwarted his chance to pick her brain. He was halfway to damning his efforts when she seemed to reach a resolution.

Finally, Áine sighed and it looked like that single breath had taken the wind fully from her sails. “I know Ketheric Thorm,” she admitted, refusing to meet his eyes. “Not personally, not exactly. But enough. What Jaheira’s saying about him, the healing he’s able to do from what should be fatal wounds, is true. He’s indeed undead, but as long as he’s been undead, he’s fed off of two things to become essentially deathless: a relic—and the extent of my knowledge is that it’s a relic and that it exists—and a covenant.”

“The cult of the Absolute?” Astarion inquired, trying to follow before he began asking his questions in full. 

“Now, yes,” Áine said. He could hear her heart raging against its cage. “But not always. Not before… The covenant extends far past that. Generations of oathbound souls to feed his immortality through the gaps of what he’s siphoned from the relic and carry out his will. Slaughtering Selûnites, razing whole villages, silently slitting throats in the Gate’s upper city. Whatever he wanted.” She drew in a shaky breath. “And now that he has the cult as well, possibly supplementing him in both of those ways, he’s… He’ll be more resilient than ever.”

Astarion’s frown deepened. “How do you know all of this?” He had a feeling though that he already knew and was only just putting it together.

Áine’s throat worked and she closed her eyes, her features pinched with shame. When she looked at him, he could tell she was forcing herself to do so. “Because his covenant’s bloodline is mine,” she told him. “I grew up in these wretched, heartless lands. I was born to die in his service. My broken oath is the oath I took in service to Ketheric Thorm.”

Next chapter: Chapter 20, "Oathbreaker"

[linka-from-captain-planet]

The L Word: Faerûn, Part 3: The Chart, Pre-Canon

Previous part.

Having explained the overall premise and basically who "Alekto" is, it's time for the real meat of The L Word: Faerûn which is who's fucking who and when and why.

Thus, in more or less chronolgoical order, the pre-canon (pink lines) relationships/hookups/drama is as follows...

(over 100 years ago) Isobel and Aylin meet, piss off Isobels' dad, and lose each other, exactly as occurs in canon. Similarly, Jaheira lost Khalid as in canon.

(? years ago because these are just for seasoning and timing doesn't really matter) Helsik and her #1 rival/frenemy/LOHL Korilla have been on and off forever. They don't know they're desperately in love. Helsik has definitely also ~encountered~ Harleep and Mizora is too nosy and obnoxious to have never crossed paths with Harleep, and crossing paths with Harleep seems to mainly mean one (1) thing.

(c. ~30 years ago to ongoing) The long, rocky relationship between Alekto and Florrick was laid out already in the previous segment, since it explains much of the backstory for the entire TLW:F concept.

Alekto, Florrick, and Naoise Nallinto are also connected as part of a polycule. Alekto is more or less monogamous, but flexible enough for a well-definied poly relationship if desired by her partner. Florrick is definitively poly, and she and Naoise have been involved consistently for quite some time, including during Florrick and Alekto's relationship. Driven by their connection as city-dwelling wood elves, they find each other grounding and enjoy spending time together, but aren't compatible enough to be very serious. Florrick and Naoise remain involved with one another, even though Alekto split away some 10 years pre-canon. Alekto and Naoise had little in common, so they rarely spent time together without Florrick, but consider each other acquaintances up to the present day.

(c. ~30years ago to just before canon). Shadowheart and Nocturne were long-term sweethearts, each other's rock in the harrowing environment of the cloister, although if asked, either would downplay their feelings for each other in accordance with their lady's teachings. They never really broke up, but rather were on-and-off due to Shadowheart's sessions with the Mirror of Loss and having to often rebuild their not-a-relationship from scratch. Due to this, the eternal denial of their true feelings for each other, and the overall culture of sexuality in the cloister, they both often were involved with other members of the cloister (represented as Mirie on the chart but could be really anyone/multiple people) both individually and also there were definitely orgies.

(~20 years-5 years ago) Florrick and Nine-Fingers Keene also had a rivals-and-lovers situationship going, as a gung-ho younger Florrick hoped to make a name for herself in the Flaming Fist by taking down the rising star of the criminal guild, but things got sexy and dramatic fast. It has been several years since they last slept together, but the sexual tension endures. (For what it's worth, I think Nine-Fingers is in her mid-forties as of 1492.)

(~13 or so years ago). Teenage Hoodlums Karlach and Skoona were a casual, infrequent thing before Karlach went under Gortash's wing.

(~10 to 1ish years ago) After Gortash betrayed Karlach, she found some kind of fun, comfort, companionship (against her better judgement) in Flo the Garotter. Karlach would never admit they were ~together~ at all let alone for that long, but if you look at the facts, they don't lie.

Now look at Allandra Grey and tell me that woman is not running some kind of racket out of that temple!! Obviously Nine-Fingers would have a finger in that pie, and a finger in other things if you know what I mean. The city could NOT handle them together, it's like how the horses in Macbeth start eating each other to signify a rift in the natural order. Umberlee probably drowned a lot of people over it. Of course (not pictured) the Polycule From Hell that is Nine-Fingers' Ladies and the Umberlee cultists is alive and (not) well.

Now in the peri-canon realm (within the 1 year prior to), we got a lot going on in the Harper Corner:

Jaheira and Nine-Fingers have had a little casual thing going on for several years, nothing serious; Jaheira doesn't want a new one and only because she already had her one and only. They have some fun, they share information, they pick this thing back up in a couple months.

Now with the Harpers, Jaheira isn't out looking for anything, but you know when you're working so closely with people, and the stakes are so high, and the nights are so cold... shit just kinda starts happening. So Talli and Jaheira developed a bit of a thing while working together to mobilize the Harpers to go to the shadow-cursed land and take on Ketheric. Talli's a good gal, salt of the earth, humble, hard-working; she's ready to settle down but Jaheira is so far beyond settling down that it's just... not a good situation for either of them. Feelings hurt, Talli rebounds with Lassandra and that's really fine, but they just didn't have enough in common to build the kind of relationship either of them want, but they made for good bedfellows while it lasted.

Meanwhile, at one point Jaheira and Isobel get drunk, start reminiscing about their lost loves, and have sex. It WOULD be a secret they both take to their grave if literally everyone didn't know about it.

In the tiefling region, sorry but Lakrissa has bag-fumbler written all over her!! Of course she and Alfira flirt, but Lakrissa fails repeatedly to seal the deal and you know Alfira doesn't make the first move (hence why they have no pre-canon connection). (Also Alfira was desperately in love with Lihala in the most hopeless, idol worship crush way, but this was 100% one-sided so not on the chart). It also doesn't help that Lakrissa's ex-teenage-sweetheart from Elturel, Xeph, is also in their caravan. Xeph dumped Lakrissa because Lakrissa wouldn't get serious about her, a mistake Lakrissa claims she will never make again, but... bag-fumbler. Lakrissa also has some bouts of low self-esteem and since her post in the grove overlooks Aradin's crew camp, I imagine she got into a little something with Remira even though Remira, like Aradin, is a piece of shit (but she is also hot, so).

Lastly, we of course have the Minthara-Orin thing which is honestly not my cup of tea whatsoever, but exists and is thus on the chart. Just because I wanted her on the chart, I feel like Minthara and Roah Moonglow have banged at least once in the goblin camp since Minthra would need to blow off some steam with someone hot and also clean.

And of course Z'rell needed to be on the chart, so the question was, who could handle her? The answer was obviously Araj, whose unflinching craziness yet delusional serenity would be a fun and equal match to Z'rell's intensity. They smashed like 2-3 times in Moonrise.

Next: The Chart, Act 1

[themarginalthinker]

Cherry Ginger Ale

(Laddie comes to Dwayne in the middle of the day, Dwayne worries.)

-

It should be a parable - 'never wake a sleeping vampire'. Or something to that effect. One could only guess at what it might mean.

For Dwayne, it mostly meant confusion, with a pretty good-sized dash of concern.

No matter what happened after you woke one up, rousing a vampire from the daysleep was a task not easily accomplished. Aside from being nocturnal, the magic that made them tick had peculiar ways of puppeting their bodies. Cycles and routines that it kept for time immemorable. The height of their waking at the darkest of the night, and the depths of their slumber at the zenith of the day. Dwayne wouldn't pretend to know why it was so, only that is was.

So actually managing to hear his name worming into his ears when by all counts he ought to be rather literally dead to the world was quite the feat.

Maybe that was just Laddie's effect on him.

"Dwayne? Dwayne."

Like rising from some black abyss, clawing by inches his way back to consciousness, Dwayne's eyes flickered, seeing nothingness, and then the shadows beyond them.

When he opened them, the familiar sight of the roost greeted him.

The bare rock walls (not like anyone fancied gussying up anything, it wasn't a nest, just a roost, they weren't spending waking time in here) the rocky, uneven floor, and the myriad of pipes and wooden support beams that had wound up in here when clearing out the main hall for space. To his immediate left, Paul, who had one arm wrapped around Marko, the other hanging freely thanks to not locking it in place because hugging the mate was more important than letting it not dangle in sleep. Marko's whole face was buried in Paul's chest, arms secure around his waist like a sane vampire. David was the last in the line, arms around no one but himself, and his back to the pack. He'd been...a little more distant, lately. Ever since Star had joined up, following Laddie into the shallows of their world, David's moods had been up and down, and the last night had ended in a down. Maybe later would be better. Still, even that was not the last thing Dwayne's eyes landed on as they took in wakefulness.

The unfamiliar sight of one little Laddie Thompson also greeted him.

The boy was standing awkwardly at the little crawlspace entrance, the only way to get in or out of the roost room, unless you could fly to an even smaller opening beyond the hang poles. He was in a loose pair of jeans (modified from some that had been a size too big) and a teeshirt that was about three sizes too big. Actually, Dwayne thinks that's one of his, though he rarely wore them, especially in summer. Oh.

Laddie is gazing up, craning his neck back, holding a little flashlight. In his arms, a blanket from his couch nest. When he shined the light onto Dwayne's face, the vampire grunted, and blinked his eyes closed again. There went his darkvision for at least a few seconds. At his reaction, Laddie flicked the beam of light away.

"Dwayne? Are you 'wake?"

Dwayne took in a breath, puffing out the stale air that had stagnated in his chest for his unconscious hours. "Yeah. Am now. You alright?"

Contextually, if there had something been wrong, Laddie likely wouldn't have been standing there calmly, but Dwayne needed to ask. Had to.

"Yeah," the boy answers. He then fidgets with his blanket, the switch of the flashlight.

Dwayne sighs again. Something's off. Laddie didn't normally do this.

He looks down, his own neck almost folding in an unnatural bend to do so, at his boy. His shirt was rumpled with sleep, as was his hair...but there was something about his face. The way he was leaning closer to the wall.

To his credit, the alarms no doubt going off in his head now weren't loud enough to wake the others - though David did twitch - but they were definitely set off.

Dwayne frowns, lifts his upper body up so he could grab the hang pole with his hands, and then unhooks his feet. He swings down like a gymnast, letting the momentum from his lower half carry him to the floor and landing in a silent crouch. Laddie stepped back a little, giving him space, but Dwayne was already at him, hands smoothing hair, trailing over arms.

"What's wrong?"

Getting this close though, he could smell it before Laddie spoke again.

"...I got sick. In the fountain."

Yeah.

Even in the gloom, with the ambient illumination from Laddie's flashlight, he could see the pinched expression on the boy's face, the red dots of broken, tiny blood vessels under his eyes, how gingerly he held himself up, probably still nauseous.

"I see," Dwayne says quietly. At the look on Laddie's face, he shrugged, pulling him close. Laddie came to him with barely a prompt, draping himself tiredly over Dwayne's frame, head at his shoulder. His forehead rests against Dwayne's neck, and he hopes that it's just that his own skin is so chill, but he thinks Laddie might be a little warmer than usual. His own coolness probably feels good against the hot skin.

Fuck. Well. The kid was only still human.

"C'n I sleep with you? Please?" he mumbles, muffled against Dwayne.

Dwayne winces, and glances up. No one else awake still, and he himself is still feeling the unnatural pull downwards, even here on the ground.

"...Okay," he says. It's not like he was about to send him back to bed ill and alone. (A part of him wonders why he didn't just wake up Star...)

At least it seems to make Laddie happy, and he lets Dwayne reposition them. The vampire lifts him into his arms, letting him cling like he does when they're on his bike as he finds the most level, clear part of the floor to sit upon. Dwayne's back is to the wall, knees drawn up, Laddie sitting sideways in his lap with his blanket wrapped around him and his head on Dwayne's shoulder. Yeah, running a fever, but hopefully just a 24-hour bug. Tonight, if Laddie isn't feeling better they'd raid a pharmacy and a grocery store for something to settle a turned stomach.

"I'm sorry I messed up the fountain," Laddie mumbles. "Is David gonna be mad?"

Dwayne hums, eyes starting to shutter. "No, he won't. He'll want you to be okay, and we can just clean it up later. Just try to go back to sleep."

Laddie snuggles down again, the dark and the silence no doubt better than the filtering sunlight and Marko's birds and the pounding of the waves against the cliffs outside only a distant, low rumble here.

As Laddie's breathing evens out, back to rest, so too does Dwayne slip back into daysleep. Where there is no awareness, only the ghosts of dreams. But he's not worried.

This sleeping vampire always wakes when he's needed.

[billveusay]

Lackadaisy Hoover Hullabaloo

@lackadaisycats

"Featuring the talents Mordecai Heller, Mitzi May and Rocky Rickaby" A little fancomic I have been working on for the last three days (and one sleepless night's worth of nocturnal drawing). When I discovered that vacuum cleaners got widespread in the 1920's, I realized that this meant Mordecai could conceivably discover their existence as an adult. And that his reaction would probably be quite entertaining. And then Rocky entered the equation.

Anyways, I had great fun working on it, probably made a lot of progress (even though this was my first experience at drawing comics, so I can't stay on model for sugar puffs and the speech bubble are pretty much flying around wherever there's room for them). Hope you enjoy it!

[phoenix-downer]

Survivors Chapter 3

Survivors: ~1050 words. Cal makes up his mind.

Story Info: Cal Kestis/Merrin. Set during Jedi: Survivor. Canon Compliant, Alternating POVs, Missing Scenes. Romance, Fluff, Introspection, Mutual Pining.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 

Jedha felt like home. Merrin never thought another place would once she’d left Dathomir, but she’d been proven wrong.

Or maybe it wasn’t the place so much as it was the people. Cal spoke of Force Echoes left by the inhabitants of a planet, their memories and feelings associated with particular places that remained long after they were gone. He could read them as easily as one might scan a Holomap for information. 

And now Jedha had many such echoes for her. Many of them were related to Cere, the Anchorites, and now Eno Cordova and Bode as well. But the ones related to Cal, well…

They are in a league of their own.

He was currently looking out over the desert scenery unfolding below. The sky was the color of slate, and the desert at night was deceptively calm. She knew how many nocturnal animals were out and about right now, many of which would be very unpleasant to encounter without the proper preparation, but this spot was a safe little oasis. At last she and Cal could be alone together. 

She casually strolled over and leaned against the rocky ledge next to him. Her life had taught her to never waste an opportunity, to leave nothing to chance. And something about tonight felt crucially important. She knew she must speak with him now or risk losing her chance forever.

“What a view, huh?” he said, acknowledging her presence at his side like it was completely natural. “Desert at night seems to stretch on forever.”

She took in the view with him. Jedha had a stark, majestic beauty of its own. The Sanctuary Temple and other buildings the Jedi Order had built long ago felt as much a part of the desert as the rocky bluffs, jagged spires, and windswept valleys. The solitude of this place helped her focus and made her path forward clear.

“There is beauty in emptiness,” she said.

He looked at her, and she returned his gaze. His expression was very earnest and unguarded and sincere, not at all the cool, aloof armor he’d tried so desperately to squeeze himself into. It had never fit him right, and so it felt good seeing Cal just be Cal. To see the man she loved unmasked, to know his real self beneath all the Jedi trappings.

“Now you sound like a Jedi,” he teased, and he sounded very amused by this fact.

“They got a few things right,” she conceded, responding with some teasing of her own. She turned around and casually leaned against the ledge, curious what he would say next.

“Hmm,” was his response, but a pleased little smile was on his face. In his defense, she had come a far way from the hatred of the Jedi she’d harbored in her heart when they had first met all those years ago.

“Even I can admit when they were right.” Her expression softened. “You showed me what a Jedi could and should be, Cal.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” was his soft response. “But they weren’t right about everything.”

It was funny how just a few words from him could change everything. She straightened, her lips parting as she searched his face. After all this time, was he finally going to give in? Was he finally going to stop being so maddeningly, infuriatingly restrained?

He ducked his head, as if his moment of braveness had temporarily fled him. Well, it was not a surprise. These things were very new to him, and she suspected he was fighting years of Jedi training right now. A battle much harder than many of the enemies he’d faced over the years, but one definitely worth fighting.

“Look, uh…” Summoning his courage, he met her eyes again, then rested a hand over hers. His hand was strong and calloused, shaped by years of gripping a lightsaber. And yet it was gentle and reassuring too.

Or perhaps he was seeking reassurance from her as much as he was offering it.

“The Order’s gone,” he said, his voice steady and even. “It’s time to leave it behind. And…I know what I want now.”

She smiled, her giddiness shining through. “Took you long enough.” Finally. He could finally be the kind of Jedi he wanted to be free from the fetters of the Jedi Order. It was not a decision she could have made for him—it was something he’d had to choose for himself. And he had chosen it. Her patience had paid off at long last.

He had not come to this decision lightly. She knew him too well to know this was anything but easy for him. And yet, he was choosing her. Of all the people in the galaxy, he wanted to be with her. 

She wanted to be with him too.

Reaching towards him, she cupped his cheek, and he wrapped an arm around her in a way that made her heart race. He was not staying still this time. He was not keeping his hands at his sides or letting them awkwardly flail in the air so long as they were anywhere but around her. She liked this Cal very much, this Cal who did not stand there passively but reciprocated her affections.

She leaned in close for a quick peck, then pulled away a little to see what he would do. He initiated the next kiss, his free hand weaving into her hair. She deepened the kiss, and she was surprised but pleased at how unrestrained and eager he was in response. All the years of waiting for him to embrace his feelings, to embrace her, were at an end.

They were the only two people on this lonely desert bluff, bringing an end to the vast emptiness. There was beauty in the emptiness, but there was so much more beauty in filling that emptiness with good things. Wonderful things. Tonight was just the beginning.

Two survivors had found each other and were forging a way forward. She did not know why she and Cal were still alive when so many of their loved ones had passed. But they both knew they had to keep on living. To make the most of the time they had left. 

And when she and Cal were together, they were home.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Thank you for reading! I really enjoyed exploring Cal and Merrin's thoughts and feelings more as their romance unfolded during Jedi: Survivor. I hope you all enjoyed! Thank you for the likes and reblogs!

[rodrigobera04]

Third round, this time with dragon type.

Here it is:

DRAGON pure

Small dragons lined up, forming a larger dragon,like wishwash does.

Dragon playing hide and seek, blending in with the landscape.

Kaiju turtle with a draconic skull for its shell.

Imp with huge ears like wings, drinks the blood of other dragons.

Draconic two-headed dog, used as security.

Beast with a long neck that goes around its body.

Tarasque with armored hull articulated like an armadillo.

Robust underground dragon with echolocation, with a bat-like face.

Feathered wyvern followed by her eggshell-helmeted chicks.

DRAGON/GRASS

Cactus lizard, carrying a cactus full of water on its back like a hump.

Nocturnal creature with an intimidating bat-flower face.

Dragon parasite strangler fig, wrapped around trees for steal their essence.

Small pollinating wyvern like a hummingbird carrying seeds and pollen.

Leafy sea dragon orchid, floating through the treetops.

Nudibranch covered in vegetation capturing energy from the sun.

Literal dragonfly with Venus flytraps for claws to catch prey.

Parasaurolophus with a wooden trumpet to whistle.

Vegetable drake blowing fragrant smoke of flowers and herbs.

DRAGON/ROCK

Dragon with rocky skin, pretending to be a cave and swallowing prey.

Beast with rock skin and chipped stone claw that sharpens on its body.

Cave lizard men use pieces of fossils as their weapons.

Comet in the shape of a dragon's head and with its trail of light as a body.

Avian gargoyle that rests during the day, like a pooto.

Devilish-looking monster resembling a stone idol.

Mythical beast with gemstone scales that reflect flaming light.

Hybrid of a triceratops and nurikabe with chameleon camouflage.

Winged beast with dragon wings shaped like a drill to open the ground.

DRAGON/ICE

Polychaete worm opening the ice with its jaws.

Female dragon born from an egg exposed to low temperatures.

Crocodile sleeping on an iceberg, with only its mouth and paws sticking out.

Hairy beast with large tusks, remotely reminiscent of a mammoth or yak.

Monster with a flat body, hidden in the snow and sliding in avalanches.

Polar sea monster, its sounds can be heard from the bottom, for kilometers.

Oni-like creature, blowing blizzards from its inflatable throat.

Polar reptile capable of changing its colors to those of the northern lights/southern lights.

Beast with icy blood that, when injured, freezes the attacker on contact.

DRAGON/FIRE

Pig-nosed drake who shoots like fire like a pistol.

Little dragon running and exploding with its lit fuse tail.

Bird of paradise dragon doing mating dances setting fire to its scales.

Wolf beast blowing fire into houses and stealing cattle, like in fairy tales.

Hybrid between a stingray and a bat that lives in lava, it burns its prey by covering it.

Turtle with soup-smelling breath, which attracts prey.

Pangolin with healing scales, its meat can cure diseases according to some.

Rocket dragon, has holes in its back used as turbines.

Male dragon hatched from an egg exposed to high temperatures.

DRAGON/GROUND

Terrestrial catfish that causes earthquakes.

Draconian vicuña with membranes that blow clouds of sand.

Flat crocodile that hides in the dunes.

Huge sandworm with a converging body of a whale.

Hydra eel, emerging from a mud puddle behind its prey.

Serpent like elephant trunk that blows sand, based on grootslang.

Camouflaged predator imitating a tree, as if it were a stick insect.

Snake with reliefs of footprints on the body, rotating and leaving deceptive tracks.

Lizard sticking out its tongue that is actually its real head.

DRAGON/GHOST

Dragon that has been decapitated but can separate its head from its body.

Parchment with a drawing of a dragon on it, which gives it life.

Diaphonized seahorse, with transparent skin and colorful skeleton.

Crocodilian boogeyman, based on the cuca monster,sings a dreamy song.

Dragon skin bag, gaining characteristics of his living "self", like a mouth.

Ancient monster described in a book, with the haunted ink giving it life.

Giant Dracula vampire bat, haunting abandoned castles.

Dragon hunter wearing the skin of a slain dragon as armor.

Undead kaiju that breathes will-o'-the-wisp.

DRAGON/FAIRY

Griffin laying eggs in other dragons' nests, like a cuckoo.

Chinese parade dancing lion, doing acrobatics,fight evil spirits.

Ruby sea dragon, blows pearls from its mouth like a cannon.

Lamia disguised as a maiden or nymph, swallowing approaching prey.

Carp purifying the polluted rivers and lakes by their magical scales.

Small dragon but can transform into a huge beast in defense, like a spriggan.

Unicorn dragon with magical and healing horn, but very fierce.

Lunar fairy based on vespertilio homo, with bat characteristics.

Shinchu immune to poison, predator of poisonous Pokémon.

DRAGON/BUG

Prehistoric cockroach with features of a dinosaur.

Titan beetle cutting down trees with one bite.

Giant mutant ant, like those from a B movie.

Giant tarantula hidden by its foliage camouflage, considered a cryptid.

Thorny katydid with wings looking like a dragon's eyes.

Huge mosquito stealing cattle to drink blood.

Horde of worms imitating a huge dragon.

Wingless parasitic fly that lives in the caves of noibat and noivern

Mandarin wasp causing destruction in bug-type creations.

DRAGON/DARK

Alien eldritch dragon with tentacles on its face and wings.

Yakuza lizards with scales resembling tattoos.

Dinosaur cryptid with dark skin to camouflage itself at night.

Serpent swallowing solrock and lunatone, alluding to bakunawa, apofis, etc.

Gecko with a false head on its tail to prevent decapitation.

Monster like a peanutbug with a hideous fake face on its wings.

Oviraptor preying on other dragons' nests, stealing eggs.

Two-headed beast, one head sings a hypnotic song and the other attacks.

Dragon in "sheep's clothing", uses its jaws to imitate horns.

DRAGON/STEEL

Heraldic animalistic monster with metallic fur.

Folklore monster who faced heroes, swords are stuck in his body.

Dragon covered in molten metal, using its heat.

Dragon with a chain with a metal ball, pinning him to the ground.

Diabolical creature deceiving the greedy with illusions of coins in its mouth.

Metallic wyrm with a metallic head and body, cuts everything like a knife.

Carnifex screaming and creating sound waves heard from far.

Precious mineral-eating cave creature.

Winged dragon closing its wings like a shield.

DRAGON/ELECTRIC

Albatross/iguana chimera, creates electrical storms.

Alligator with electric bite.

Fast raptor, kills prey with a surprise electric shock.

Sachihoko covering herself with her tail, like a mohawk that attracts lightning.

Duck-billed dinosaur, its beak has bio-electric organs.

Dragons like bats, flying in clouds to catch electricity, personify thunder.

Bichir can electrocute like an eel, with fins in the form of lightning.

Dragon with bioluminescent tail like firefly abdomen.

Ouroboros creating infinite energy by biting its tail.

DRAGON/FIGHTING

Iridescent python twitched and whipped its body.

Monster with mutated arms that form a second jaw.

Dragon knight with scales forming swords.

Massive bullfrog sumo wrestler, crushing the opponent.

Hydra that instead of heads, has extra arms.

Bird of terror with strong legs for crushing and kicking.

Anfisbena fighting among themselves to see who takes over the direction.

Wuxia themed tiger and dragon hybrid predator.

Demon with sharp claws and slashing wings based on devilman.

DRAGON/NORMAL

Monster with three pairs of jaws, looking like a strange dog.

Immense dragon looking like a huge mattress, almost always sleeping.

Little dinosaur with a bait-shaped tail for catching fish.

Small lizard but with a huge roar.

Reptile shedding its skin, which takes the form of colorful and stylish clothing.

Angelic-looking beast with sonic abilities.

Rubber dinosaur capable of inflating itself.

Dragon with a beard of colorful scales, used for display.

Long tatzelwurm coiled over its victim.

DRAGON/FLYING

Flock of birds that form an immense winged creature.

Roc launching its tough eggs onto its prey.

Colorful kite pterodactyl creating tornado winds.

Dragon without wings,but it swallows air to blow and also levitate.

Dinosaur turning into a bird when it evolves.

Amphitera with colorful wings and a body that makes a rattling noise.

Flying turtle, its head is hidden in the shell and comes out like a cuckoo clock.

Symbiotic dragon with butterflies, letting them drink his tears.

Wyvern goose used as a guard dog, very fierce and with a serrated beak.

DRAGON/WATER

Kaiju lobster making water turn to steam.

Kraken sea serpent, covered in tentacles and a beak that cuts metal.

Oriental dragon made of water, always dripping raindrops.

Soft-shelled turtle, its shell is shaped like wings for gliding.

Tiny, seemingly dull fish with the mouth of a sarcastic fringhead.

Monitor lizard abandoning the land and becoming a mosasaur-like monster.

Sea monster in the form of a waterspout.

Gar turning amphibian and looking like a spinosaurus.

Supernatural aquatic horse that runs on water, covered in wet, sticky mucus.

FINAL MYTHICAL:

Pixie dragon dragon/fairy, created from children's imagination of fairy tales.

Wait for more.

[fishenjoyer1]

Fish of the Day

Today's fish of the day is the Australian angelshark!

The Australian angelshark, known by scientific name Squatina australis, is a common coastal shark in Australia. The range of this shark stretches across the continental shelf of Southern Australia, from Western Australia to New South Wales. Living along the seabed, it survives at depths of 130-255 meters, or 430-840ft. This is where this shark will live on muddy or sandy seabed, which it uses to disguise itself, or seagrass beds, nearby rocky reefs where it will hunt.  

As a primarily nocturnal species, the Australian angelshark hunts in the night, searching for prey within rocky zones and reefs. The diet is made up of small fishes, crustaceans, and other invertebrates which it crushes between its sharp teeth. During the day, these sharks spend their time buried beneath the sand, hiding from potential predators, well remaining hidden from nearby prey, which it will lunge at once close enough. 

These sharks, like other angel sharks, are ovoviviparous, meaning that the young survive off of the egg casing inside of the uterus of the mother as they gestate, and litters of pups can get up to 20 pups at a time. Other than this, little is known of the breeding habits of the Australian Angelshark, but due to their close relation to the Pacific angel shark, we can estimate they may gestate their pups for around 10 months. From what we know of pacific angel sharks, we can assume a breeding season takes place in May-July, and birthing is done from March-June of the following year. Sexual maturity of the Australian angelshark is achieved at 90cm in length for males, and 97cm in length for females, and they can get as large as 152cm in length total. Although we don't know the lifespan of the Australian angelshark specifically, most angel sharks live lives of 20-25 years, going through around 15 breeding seasons throughout their lifespan.

Have a wonderful day, everyone!

[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

Still waters

Two weeks later, I deliver the piece @sasumimo has suggested on my post asking for writing ideas.

Thank you for the idea and I hope it is to your liking! After that angst I've just written, this felt like balm for the soul!

Here is the prompt:

The moon shines brightly onto the clear, summer night sky, overpowering the shine of the endless expanse of stars surrounding it. The softest, warm breeze caresses the sleeping leaves of trees and the petals of the fragrant night wildflowers, fireflies flitting into the darkness.

Little Apple grazes onto the damp grass, a little a-ways from the entrance into a large, dark cave. A white, Lan robe has been draped over her back, and two apples have been laid at her feet to snack on.

Her masters have disappeared into the cave, and she's a bit too grateful for that - she's heard enough of their nightly adventures to last her five lifetimes and a little into the sixth, so she happily takes in the cool night air and the distant sounds of nocturnal wildlife before laying down for a nap.

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji have finally reached the end of their impromptu spelunking trip, having explored the rocky depths of the cave, weaving through intricate passageways with curiosity. They reached a breathtaking underground pool, crystal clear water revealing the beautiful rocky formations underneath. A small stream of water from somewhere between the rocks flows into the pool, the rocks around it glimmering with droplets.

"Wow, this is so cool!" Wei Wuxians exclaims and leaps to the edge of the water, dipping a hand into it, breaking its stillness. "It's nearly as cold as the Cold Springs back home!"

Lan Wangji's heart leaps with joy, a smile curling the ends of his lips - Wei Ying thinks the Cloud Recesses are home! He will never find that knowledge less breathtaking, no matter how many times Wei Ying says it. And to think he used to refuse staying there so vehemently, thinking it to be the place of his demise... now it's home.

Lan Wangji is about to say something - something along the lines of I love you - but the words catch in his throat when he sees Wei Ying begin undressing. That's yet another thing Lan Wangji will never get used to or take for granted - it still makes him lightheaded to see Wei Ying without clothes on, skin still carrying the signs of their lovemaking, no matter how many times he's seen Wei Ying naked.

He feels his ears burn red, embarrassingly so, but Wei Ying is so incredibly attractive, his body now having become more his than Mo Xuanyu's, that Lan Wangji can't help it.

It's a bit (a lot) voyeuristic, the way Lan Wangji watches fabric slide off his husband's body, the way he moves, elegant and smooth without meaning to, as he undresses. Muscle flexes slightly underneath his perfect skin, and Lan Wangji swallows hard, imagines - no, remembers (oh, God, remembers!) - the way that skin feels underneath his fingertips and the reactions it elicits out of Wei Ying to be touched.

He doesn't even realize why exactly Wei Ying has been undressing - well, he had his own suggestions as to why, but alas - until he hears the little yelps and expletives that leave Wei Ying the moment he slides into the cave pool water.

"I'll never get used to this!" he wails as he stops at a waist-deep level, "Lan Zhan, are you just gonna let me freeze to death here all by myself? Come freeze with me!"

Lan Zhan huffs a laugh and begins undressing. Wei Ying whistles a low, flirtatious laugh, and Lan Zhan's ears flush a deep shade of red.

"You're so hot, Hanguang-Jun, the moment you touch this water, it'll boil me alive!"

"Wei Ying."

He laughs and wades further into the water, smiling through the bite of the cold that he seemed to have forgotten about. The horny mind is a wonder of nature.

His eyes inevitably draw downwards, where he sees what his teasing has done to Lan Zhan and he gets a mischievous idea. He swims gracefully around as Lan Zhan arranges his clothes in order - very Lan of him to worry about that - and begins humming their song as he does. Lan Zhan's eyes snap his way, and Wei Ying sends him a sultry look as he continues for a few more seconds, making a show of shaking water off his hair.

Lan Zhan finally dips into the cold water, and gains a semblance of rationality the moment the chill bites into his skin.

"Finally!" Wei Ying exclaims, "I need to work on my siren call, I hoped I'd lure you in a lot sooner!"

Lan Zhan easily adjusts to the cold, years of having soaked into the Cold Springs paying off, so he wades up to Wei Ying, who just then decides to move a bit further away and coax Lan Zhan into a little chase.

"Doesn't this feel a little nostalgic, Lan Zhan? It's been forever since last time we shared some space in cold water, but last time it was me chasing you out~"

Lan Zhan smiles, remembering how flustered he had been back then, how it would have never crossed his mind to allow Wei Ying to be close to him and touch him.

It crosses his mind now, and he nimbly catches Wei Ying at last, pressing their bodies together. Wei Ying blushes momentarily before wrapping his arms around Lan Zhan's middle.

"Hm, I was right back then, indeed. It's a lot warmer on your side~"

[crashingmeteor3]

Yo-kai Watch 3 tierlist (Help)

So remember when I said I might do a ykw 3 tierlist depending on how well people like the ykw 2 tierlist?

...Well,

that was a lie. I got bored and did it anyway. Yippee! This took an unsurprisingly long time, and made me realise just how many yo-kai the third game tossed at us.

*Cracks Wrists* Oh boy here we go. Forgive if I get names wrong it is like 9pm when I'm writing this.

As usual, we have the favourites tier, the blorbos I wouldn't be mad if they knocked on my doorbo. Except I'd be very cornfused, or scared.

Some yo-kai I like because of their designs, like Alpina, Benazaiten, Bubble Beth, Her Egglency, Legsit, Lil' Blue Bathing Hood, Sighdurr and Skillskull. Very cool dudes and dudettes. I haven't used any of them I don't think but yeah.

And then we have the yo-kai I like because of the games, or anime, Agent X/EXecutor, Cue-tee, Demandi, Double Time, Dr Nocturne, Gorgeous Ambassador, Hoaxy Coaxy, Intune, KJ, Mee2, No-Bot/Yopple Bot, Slackajack, Specthare, Treeter, Unbearaboy, Usapyon and Whisper.

So yeah most of the yo-kai. But can you blame me? Probably, but oh well.

And the other yo-kai like Ballin, Chicken Chukket and Originyan I like because m e m e.

Also I really thought Slackajack was going to better himself after I beat him up for kidnapping kids, but he didn't, shame on you. I was hoping for a redemption arc. Hailey's TED talk didn't work as well as I hoped.

I like most of these guys because they're cool! Or because of in the game.

So this is the great tier, but also the cool designs tier, because while I don't remember some of their names, they're cool enough to be memorable for me.

Exceptions are Injournalist, Ghoulfather, Rongo Swirl, Little Charming, Silver Lining, Lionguist, Rocky Badboya, Princess Pearl and Beddy Byes, who I liked because of the game.

This is the Good Tier! Yo-kai who are good enough to not be in neutral, but not good enough to be higher.

Nothing to say about anyone, but I'd probably move Zomboy up to Great now after doing his quest. I was tempted to put Sighborg in Neutral because he just will not befriend me and it makes me mad but I decided not to.

Fuu 2 would've been in great but the quests made me cringe. Kind of.

And then we have everyone else, well, not everyone, but a vast majority of the yoke guys. I'd consider being in here a good thing. You're fine, you passed the vibe check.

Don't mind the blacked out spot, I put a yo-kai there I didn't mean to, don't remember what yo-kai but that guy would be in neutral probably.

As usual, nothing wrong with these guys, there's just something off I can't put my finger on.

AND THEN WE HAVE FRICKEN SHEDWIN.

Okay, I'm all about yo-kai being wacky and weird because that's the point. But Shedwin takes this too far. This man is just a hairball constantly scratching himself and getting dandruff all over my hardwood floors! His face makes me uncomfortable. He looks like the type of guy to give you a candy but it's not candy its his own dandruff, gross. And this is coming from someone with greasy dandruff hair.

I'm sorry Shedwin, but stay five miles away from me at all times.

This is self explainatory, I don't know any of these dudes.