#Miri shut up challenge

[mirimage]

Sibling got me Gandalf Big Naturals from Armageddon…

[the-dormant-ocean]

I hate myself.

[dr-demi-bee]

We're at War: the Wizard and the Commander

Chapter 4

Finally edited and live! Getting into some ✨drama✨ More fluff and filth to come.

Frenemies -> Lovers ~ Royal Court AU ~ Knight x Noble

Pairing: Gale x f!Tav - NSFW Word Count: 6.5k (chap 4; total 25k) ------------------------------------------------------------------------------Summary:

The evening arrives, and with it the Baldur's Gate gala. Miri and Gale both face their own challenges attending the event, but more trouble seems to be brewing. Gortash's scheming might get in the way of their budding romance…

-----------------------Read on A03-------------------------

Miri's staring at her open wardrobe, her fist absolutely shaking with ire.

All the respite she had managed this morning had evaporated in an instant.

She had received an 'urgent' missive - the Grand Duke was demanding she attend tonight's fundraiser gala as a guest and adhere to the strict dress code accordingly.

Meaning no armor, no weapons, and no trousers.

Fucking prick.

It had taken a full hour to rearrange the stations and patrols for the evening to account for her absence. She should be in dress armor on the dais with the king. Not paraded about like an exotic piece of meat.

But Grand Duke dickhead gets the final say on his fundraiser gala - and he’s insisting Miri has to mingle with the common folk so they can see the general. ‘Humanize the face of the war.’

And she can’t afford to tell him to fuck off. These stupid fundraiser galas are critical to outfitting the soldiers and to the success of the war.

Right. Miri growls, pulling out a gown and shoes, then slamming her wardrobe shut.

***

Gale is in his own chambers across the hallway preparing for the gala.

He had just finished pulling a black shirt over his shoulders and was currently fixing his collar when he heard the commotion across the hall. Doors slamming, armor clattering.

He looks up briefly at the sound, his dark eyes widening before his brows furrow in annoyed recognition.

Always so angry.

He’s still troubled by their argument this morning. Off-kilter after a radiant evening together that led to absolutely no change in their relationship. Couldn’t she accept his help? His support?

Gale let out a frustrated sigh and muttered under his breath as he tugged on his deep blue vest and began to button it.

Gods, give me the strength to not strangle Gortash tonight, he muttered to himself.

***

Stupid shoes. Stupid dress. Stupid hair.

Miri practically slams the door of her chambers shut.

It had taken ages to fix her usually simple and fuss-free makeup into something ‘appropriate’ and to style her hair into something presentable - two braids pulling her hair away from her face while the rest cascades smooth and unbound down her back. Every time it shifts against her undercut she feels another spike of irritation.

Miri rests her forehead against her door for a moment, taking deep breaths as she tries to school her expression.

This would be fine. She's done it before. Nevermind that was decades ago... she could do this.

Just be nice. Friendly. Don’t let them under your skin.

Miri straightens her back, squares her shoulders, and smooths the deep emerald and black satin of her gown with an anxious motion. She starts striding her way down the hall - less graceful than usual with the stupid heels. Their straps at least crisscross and wrap all the way up to her knees, so it's impossible for them to fall off. Her bare legs peek out of the high slits in her gown with every purposeful step.

If he wants refined, she'll show them refined.

***

Gale hears the door across the hall slam shut as he begins to tie a purple silk ascot around his neck. His eyes widen and his shoulders tense, before a flicker of amusement flashes through his features. He lets out a brief chuckle before moving to the mirror.

Gale adjusts his shirt and waistcoat, then ties a portion of his hair into a neat bun, pulling the unruliest strands away from his face.

He then slips on his deep purple dress robes, a brilliant contrast to his black shirt and navy waistcoat, evoking the nebulas common in his casting. His fingers move quickly through the practiced motions of pulling the silk over his shoulders and making sure it fits properly around his waist.

Once finished, he pauses to admire his figure and lets out a breath of relief. Gods, finally. One more obstacle out of the way so he can finally get back to resolving this gods forsaken spat with Miri.

***

It takes Miri longer than usual to make it across the palace.

Not just because of the throngs of visitors (busybody nobles, all of them), but because she is slowed by her shoes and having to hike up her skirts to go up and down every set of stairs.

Why are there so many gods forsaken stairs?

***

As he walks through the palace, Gale tries to keep himself from growling with impatience at the guests that swarmed him every few feet. He has to remember he’s an advisor to the king, and he has to keep up appearances, no matter how impatient he gets or how inane the conversations become.

Most of them want to ask him about court, or magic, or talk about the upcoming gala. He can feel himself growing more and more irritated the more people stop him to talk about gossip or parlor tricks they mistake as substantive magic.

He just wants to get into the damn event.

If I have to answer one more question about court or the arcane, I will hex myself, he thought as he approaches the ballroom doorway.

***

Miri enters the far end of the ballroom, skirting the main entrance entirely. The fewer people she has to mingle with the better. And just because she isn’t on guard tonight, doesn’t mean she can’t take advantage of the palace layout.

She spots Grand Duke fuck face schmoozing with nobles at the far end of the ballroom almost immediately. He’s a study in gaudy opulence. Rings and baubles adorning atrocious attire. Gross.

King Ravenguard chats amiably with guests at the top of the grand staircase. His guard, Karlach, hovers close by. The tiefling notices her and shoots her an approving grin when they make eye contact. Miri makes a face in return and fights the urge to groan at her friend's obvious teasing.

She finds a spot near the bannisters overlooking the dance floor to pause and survey the room. Nothing interesting, of course. A modest string band and far too many nobles.

Already she can feel the eyes on her. Lecherous and judgmental alike.

Looking at the exposed expanses of her tattoos. Staring at her lithe but muscular frame highlighted by the form fitting gown. Wondering how an elf so small could be commander of the royal armies. Or how a wild savage could be a royal advisor.

She toys with the pendant at her throat with nervous fingers.

Somehow the plunging neckline and high leg slits in the gown make her feel more exposed than just being nude.

She would rather fight the wyvern again in this outfit than face this leering all night.

***

As Gale approached the ballroom's entrance, he caught sight of Lord Gortash with his usual crowd of admirers. Troubling sycophants. He’s never entirely sure of the man’s motives - but he cannot shake the discomfort he feels at every turn.

He quickly averts his gaze, the image of the duke's pompous expression and obsequious followers stirring a sense of irritation within him.

Gale takes a deep breath and steps through the door into the large dance hall. He’s quick to accept a goblet of wine from a passing server. Taking a sip, his eyes peer over the rim to scan the room.

His eyes quickly picking out Karlach's fiery red skin and hair amongst the sea of gowns and finery. Despite his initial annoyance, he couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort at the sight of his friend. Add to it that King Wyll Ravenguard beside her has a very amiable and charming visage - it’s a little easier to settle into the event with them present.

His eyes don’t stall for long as he scans for a different head of red hair.

***

Miri tries her best to be polite and maintain a friendly smile each time a noble greets her. Tries not to show her lupine teeth, to look sweet and unassuming. Bowing, curtseying, shaking hands only if need be. She keeps her hands together to minimize showing her sharp nails.

She knows how to play the game, as much as she abhors it. She can look sweet.

Unfortunately, that means at an event like this few respect her as Commander of the royal armies - if they even recognize her as such out of uniform.

Add to it that already a dozen too many men have asked for a dance.

"Apologies, I’m not one for dancing," she murmurs politely for the nth time, forcing a sweet close lipped smile.

Thank the gods most of them are accepting enough of this tonight.

***

Gale continues making his way through the crowded ballroom, his feet carrying him across the expansive dance floor. It’s early enough that dancing hasn’t started in earnest yet, but there’s still dozens of bodies in the way as he moves.

For the most part he ignores the chatter of the nobles around him, all too focused on finding Miri's familiar figure in the sea of bodies. Looking for the shine of her dress armor, the sleek, wine-red, braided bun a top her head.

He tries to convince himself that it’s the need to speak to her is the only thing pulling him along. The only reason he’s feeling an almost nervous flutter in his stomach.

As he passes by a small group of particularly gormless fools, he overhears their conversation.

A particularly pompous voice pierces through the din, and draws Gale's attention.

"I can't believe the lythari is here. What's a beast doing at a civilized function? May as well put lipstick on a pig."

***

"Come now, surely a beautiful thing like you can dance a waltz or two?"

The older gentleman, reeking already of alcohol and too much cologne, leans in too close.

"I can make it worth your while." He leers, making no attempt to hide the way his gaze trails her form.

Miri takes a subtle step backward as politely as she can. Does her best to look demure and gracious as she puts her hands up for a polite rebuff.

"I assure you, I am better suited to the battlefield than the ballroom," Miri responds politely, "I'm afraid I must decline."

***

As soon as Gale hears the words leave the pompous noble's mouth, he can feel a sense of rage building up inside him.

How dare he call Miri a beast?

As if she's worth any less than the rest of them! As if she’s not more to this country than any of these over-inflated, asinine, assholes!

He turns towards the men, ready to give his opinion on the matter, when his eyes catch sight of a familiar head of wine colored hair amongst the throng on the mezzanine above.

The sight of her dressed up in an elegant gown - gods, looking nearly divine - causes his breath to catch in his chest. He had expected her dress armor, which is lovely of course, if not stately, but this...

He had teased her about this very idea last night - but gods his every imagining pales in comparison to reality.

The greens and black of her silk gown are perfect with her skin, her hair, her tattoos. Her hair is down and long and the gentle styling is perfection. She is breath-taking. And he is breathless.

And he has never wanted her more in his life.

Every sane thought flees his mind at the sight of that demure little smile. Somehow in this attire she looks small and almost fragile - the mantle of the knight commander taken off for the garb of a lady.

It’s almost uncanny, really, to see Miri being sweet and courtly. But he’d be damned to deny the way it makes his heart throb.

But he can see the subtle way that smile falters. The way her eyebrows shift and her jaw clenches subtly. Tell tale signs of her ire he recognizes all too well.

His gaze shifts to follow hers, and he realizes she is surrounded by a handful of what he can only assume are annoying suitors. And Gale’s heart rate quickens with irritation once more. His feet are moving before he can think twice.

***

"Are you married, sweet thing?" A portly man drawls, leaning in far too close. Some patriar or other. His poor choice of wine sloshes unpleasantly in the cup in his hand.

"No, my Lord," Miri answers politely, "I am much too busy for a family."

"Someone should snatch you up." He chuckles at his own joke, his ruddy face full of arrogant mirth. "Get you out of that dreadful armor and into a kitchen where you belong. I'm sure you could give anyone lovely heirs -"

Don't snap. Don't fight. Be polite.

"Tell me. Would your children also be lythari, sweetness?"

Don't fight. Don't snap.

***

Gale feels his blood rushing through his veins as his heart thrums an angry rhythm. He can feel his cheeks grow heated with anger as he watches the pompous noble's eyes travel up and down Miri's body - without a single attempt at subtlety! Brazenly, openly leering at her. The pig!

When he’s close enough to hear what the man has the utter gall to say to her it sets his blood boiling. The words that leave his mouth are little better than an insult, fragrantly disrespecting everything Miri has accomplished.

The man is damn near begging to be cursed.

Gale quickly closes the distance to Miri’s side, his face a dark scowl. His fists are clenched against the urge to turn the man to a pile of ash. He stops right next to Miri as the noble asks another inane question, turning the full force of his glare onto the pompous man.

"That's enough," he says firmly, his voice cutting through the conversation with irritation. "What sort of arrogant fool are you to speak a lady, much less Commander Adahlen’i, in such a manner?"

Miri startles, looking up to see Gale standing beside her. He looks rather dashing in his formal wear... Colors not unlike the magic he often employs. Almost like...space. And something about the way he’s pulled his hair, lightly streaked with gray, away from his face, neatly trimmed his beard, and glowers like a force to be reckoned with has her stomach doing a little flip.

The noble doesn't wither away from Gale's ire - instead he only grows more heated.

"That's no business of yours, lad," he gruffs, puffing up his portly chest, "I have waited my due to speak to the lady, as I have every right to!"

Gale's anger only grows with every syllable the patriar drunkenly butchers, and his glare darkens with each word that leaves his putrid mouth. The audacity of this man! He had waited a mere moment to speak to Miri - if one could even call that tripe 'speaking' at all. It’s obvious he has no sense of decency or respect.

"Every right?" Gale's voice was like iron, cold and hard. "You don't have the right to breathe the same air as her, let alone speak to her."

"Gale," Miri warns softly.

Gale turns his sharp gaze to her, his dark eyes meeting hers with a mixture of irritation and concern. He can sense her unease - the subtle way she is trying to deflate the situation before it could escalate further. Trying to downplay this insult. Accepting the bullshit foisted upon her. Again!

"You should watch your tone, wizard," the noble huffs in the opening, his ruddy face darkening, "I am a very important member of the Gate's nobility, here as a guest. And I have right to speak to her!"

He turns back to the noble, his glare hardening further as he met the man's eyes.

"You have as much right to speak to her as the dirt beneath her feet. She's the Knight Commander, one of the most well-decorated in the history of Baldur's Gate. What have you done to earn the right to speak to her at all?"

The man scoffs indignantly. "She's a lycanthrope and a beast! She should be gratified to receive any attention at all!"

Gale's eyes narrow with anger and he sneers. Magic crackles beneath his skin and in the air around him, barely contained.

"How dare you!" he snaps, his voice rising with fury, "How dare you speak of her in such a manner! She's not just some common beast! She leads men into battle and brings them back with little loss of life. Protecting everything that keeps you in your lavish positions! And you have the gall - the gall - to call her an animal? You should be grateful to have her attention, much less her time!"

"I never!" The patriar huffs back. "Clearly she's not worth my time - nothing more than a common brute that would take entirely too much effort."

The noble huffs and puffs and turns on his heel, muttering more under his breath as he goes. But Miri can’t even see him. Can’t tear her eyes away from Gale. She’s hardly ever seen his ire directed at anyone but her.

‘She’s not just some common beast!’

Her heart gives a desperate lurch and her stomach seems to have taken flight. The boy who once got under her skin, following her about the palace - clearly gone, and in his place a man.

Gale's eyes burn with rage as he watches the pompous fool of a noble’s retreating back, his fists clenching at his sides. How dare he! How dare he speak to Miri in such a demeaning, disrespectful manner! And call her a common beast, no less? She's the Commander of the Royal Army, not some creature to be mocked and ridiculed.

Miri sighs gently, clearing her thoughts and as she sets a hand on Gale’s forearm gently. As he felt Miri's hand touch his forearm, Gale felt something in his chest tighten. He turned to look at her, his eyes meeting hers and searching her expression for a moment.

"Thank you," she murmurs softly. "Though I fear if you want to fight every noble accosting me this evening you’ll find yourself quite exhausted."

"I can handle a few pompous fools, Miri.” He lets out a slow breath, shaking his head slightly. “But I can't handle hearing them insulting you. Not even for a moment."

"These weren't even the clever insults," she smirks slightly. Softly reassuring, she goes on, "I can handle it, Gale. It's nothing I haven't heard before."

Her hand gently squeezes his arm before retreating to her side once more. Even through the layers he could feel the heat of her palm - and without it he feels almost cold.

He then shakes his head slightly, a soft chuckle leaving his lips.

"They may not have been clever, but they were still insulting you. And that's something I can't tolerate."

Miri shakes her head with a soft laugh, making her long hair away around her shoulders.

"Mm. Then you are in for a rather unpleasant evening," she returns with a smile.

Gale's dark eyes soften as he looks down at Miri, his gaze roaming over her visage - wine dark hair, freckled skin and delicately pointed ears. Stunning green eyes. And the warmth of her smile is enough to temper the flames of his ire.

At least for now.

Miri shifts to lean over the banister again, chin in hand, watching as a dance starts and guests start to twirl about in an organized riot of colors on the dancefloor below.

He can't help but admire how beautiful she looks in her gown, the silk fabric clinging to her slender, muscular frame. The back of her gown is made up of a tasteful lace cutout that elegantly covers the worst of her scars. It’s a peculiar duality of rugged and delicate that he can’t help but be drawn to.

Gale leans against the banister beside her, his eyes watching the dancers swirl about the floor. After a few moments, he turns his gaze back to Miri, his dark eyes roaming over her once more.

"You look beautiful tonight," he says softly, a small smile gracing his lips.

"I clean up alright," she retorts playfully. She eyes him sidelong. "You look rather dashing."

Gale's small smile widens at her remark, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

"I do try my best," he says with a chuckle. He then turns his gaze back to the dance floor, his expression turning thoughtful as he watches the couples move about.

"Why don't you dance?" he asks, his voice soft and curious.

"I don't know how," she answers simply. Then with an irritated huff, "Not to mention these shoes are a bloody hazard."

Gale lets out a soft laugh, his dark eyes looking down to her feet. "Well, I can't say that they're not," he murmurs, amused. His gaze lingers on her delicate ankles and the way the straps weave their way up her calf. He feels the urge to reach out and touch her, to wrap his fingers around her slender legs...

He shakes his head, trying to push the thought away. Instead, he turns his eyes back to hers, a small smile on his lips.

"Would you like me to teach you? I know a thing or two about dancing."

"And take away my only reasonable excuse to say 'no'?" Miri gives him a playfully withering look. "No thank you."

Gale chuckles once more, a mischievous gleam in his eye.

"You're no fun," he teases, a small smirk forming on his lips. He takes a step closer, his body pressing slightly against her. He can feel the heat of her body, and he has to fight the urge to reach out and touch her once more.

How badly he wants to wrap his arms around her slender waist, to pull her against him and feel her skin against his own. What he wouldn’t give to repeat last night...

"No, I'm not," she shoots back with a wry smile. Miri wouldn’t dare make a spectacle - or rather, a fool- of them both with such an endeavor. She turns her eyes back to the dancefloor as the music crescendos. "I'm sure there are plenty of lovely nobles seeking out your attention."

Gale's smile turns into a frown at her words, his heart aching at the idea of other nobles speaking to her - preening about like peacocks. He doesn't want anyone else's eyes on her, doesn't want anyone else to appreciate her beauty. He wants her to be his.

He reaches out and takes her hand in his, his long fingers wrapping around her slender ones. She looks surprised when her gaze flits from their hands to his face. Brown eyes etched with a deep longing pray for green eyes to see the depths of his feelings.

"I would rather you seek out my attention," he says softly, his voice earnest and laced with a hint of pleading.

She arches a soft brow at him. Surely he doesn’t mean that? Gale could have anyone he wanted - he’s handsome, charming, clever. Not to mention his position at court. There could not be a more prized bachelor.

But her eyes glance pointedly towards the king and then to the stupid grand duke. And she gently pulls her hand back from his. They can’t afford such a dalliance. Not when either one of them could be political leverage.

"Always so greedy," she murmurs, soft enough to be for his ears only.

Gale can't help the color that rises in his cheeks at her teasing remarks. The reminder of last time she called him that has his stomach swooping.

But his heart clenches slightly at the truth Of Miri’s words.

He is greedy . He wants her all to himself. Wants her to be his. The thought of her flirting with nobles and other courtiers, of her being with anyone other than himself, makes his stomach roil and his chest tighten with jealousy.

Undeterred, he reaches out again, gently taking her hand back in his. He raises it to his lips and presses a tender kiss to her knuckles, his lips lingering.

Miri tries to ignore the way his gentle affections and the possessive look in his eyes makes her heart stutter and her stomach clench.

"Gale," she warns.

He can see her reaction, the soft blush and the way her lips part - he can see the way his touch affects her. It makes him feel victorious. More accomplished than any spell. His dark eyes gleam with triumph as he presses another gentle kiss to her knuckles, his voice dropping to a low whisper.

"What?" A small smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth.

They can't do this. It breaks so many regulations - not to mention they're in full view of the entire court. And that fucking smirk again!

Miri frowns at him. "You know what."

Gale's smirk widens into a cocky grin, his dark eyes gleaming with mischief. He loves the way she reacts to him, just by touching her gently. He knows he shouldn't. They shouldn’t. But he can't help it, he can't stop himself from wanting to be close to her. Wanting her.

He leans in a little closer, to murmur darkly in her ear. "I think I need a little reminder."

Miri growls softly and steps back. She can’t stand this torment. Shouldn’t have indulged in him yesterday. Should’ve kept him at arms length. Stop being sweet. Stop wanting me.

"Don't."

The look she gives him sends a jolt of electricity down his spine, desire pooling low in his belly. He can't help the way his body reacts to her, can't help the way his heart hammers in his chest or the way his breathing quickens. He wants her so badly it hurts, and he can't hide it anymore.

"Oh?" he purrs, taking another step forward, closing the distance between them once more. "And what if I don't listen? What are you going to do, Commander?"

"Dammit, Gale," she breathes, putting some space between them again- fighting against the way her own body pleads for her to stay pressed up against him. "We can't-"

"Commander Adahlen'i," a dark, greasy voice intrudes, "What a pleasure to see you finally looking respectable!"

Miri’s jaw clenches shut. She turns with simmering irritation to find the Grand Duke's insufferable, smug face.

Gale’s shoulders tense with anger once more. He was finally making headway. He could see it in her eyes. But with this pompous fool butting in, he fears he may have lost his chance for the evening. Gortash is going to spoil her good mood entirely, and he wants to cast a fireball right into the man's smug face to teach him a lesson in grace. But he knows he can't, not without causing a scene and a dozen more political ramifications. So instead his fists clench at his sides.

"Lord Gortash," Miri greets icily.

"I must say, what a true delight it is to see you out of all that pesky armor." He grins at her. "I'm honestly a bit surprised you would heed my instructions. But the results are stunning."

Gale fights back a scoff. How dare he try to take credit for Miri's beauty? As if he were some sort of benefactor that’s done her a favor ‘instructing‘ her to wear a gown. Absurd.

Miri refuses to rise to his obvious bait. Her poise never wavers, back straight and shoulders square.

"Consider it a show of respect, Lord Gortash," she returns coolly. Not that he would know the meaning of the word. "I am willing to tolerate such pageantry, given it does not hinder my capacity to protect His Majesty or Baldur's Gate."

Gale feels a swell of pride and admiration. Her words are strong and firm, her voice confident and unwavering as she refuses to let him belittle her or her position. And he can't help but find it incredibly attractive.

Gortash chuckles at her response, a sly smile spreading across his lips.

"Ah, but what's a little pageantry among allies?" he replies, his tone syrupy sweet as he holds up his hands in gaudy display. "And surely even you must admit, Commander, that all of this fuss and finery is a nice change of pace from the battlefield."

"We'll have to disagree on that," Miri returns, somehow managing to keep her voice even, "We all have our areas of expertise."

Gortash lets out a chuckle, his eyes gleaming with malice.

"Oh, I'm not sure I'd call slaughtering hundreds of beasts expertise, Commander," he retorts, his voice dripping with condescending mockery.

A white hot anger bubbles inside of Gale’s stomach. How dare he speak to Miri like that? How dare he belittle her accomplishments and hard work?

"Perhaps if you gave it a try, you might change your mind." Her tone maintains an air of sweet civility, but the threat is clear in her eyes despite the smile. "There's extra equipment in the barracks, should you want to visit the training yard and try your hand, my lord."

Gortash laughs again, his face contorted into a sneer. "Oh Commander, you know my talents lie elsewhere," he says, his voice dripping with arrogance. "I prefer to command from a distance."

Gale can feel his jaw clenching, his fists so tight his nails dig into his palms. It feels nearly impossible to stay silent. He wants to punch the pompous twit in the face and wipe that smug smile from his lips.

"A shame. Some exercise and time in the sun would do you some good, my lord."

Gortash chuckles at her comment, his eyes gleaming with malice. "Oh Commander, you underestimate me. I get more than enough exercise in... other areas." His eyes flick to her body, roaming over her form, and Gale nearly chokes.

"Yes, I'm sure your wrists are quite honed," she returns dryly.

"My, how crude," he retorts, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm starting to wonder if perhaps you need some lessons on how to properly behave in court."

"I've no idea what you mean, my lord," Miri returns with an overly polite smile, "I only assumed that with all your time spent behind a desk you must have a strong writing hand, no?"

Gortash lets out an irritated chuckle, his ire thinly veiled. "Ah yes, of course," he responds, his voice dripping with condescension. "I'm sorry, Commander. I should have realized that someone of your... background wouldn’t understand subtlety."

The way Gortash speaks to her, the way he insults her so easily, grates on Gale’s very nerves. Gale is not a violent man - but he wants to punch this insufferable twat in the face - make him take back his barbed words and mocking taunts. He takes a step forward, his fists clenched tightly at his sides.

Miri subtly moves her foot to stop Gale's advance, pressing down on the tip of his shoe. Gale can feel his muscles clenching in frustration as Miri moves her foot to block his advance. He knows that she thinks it's for the best. He can’t start a fight, no matter what Gortash says. She’s right, of course, but it does nothing to sooth the irritation positively boiling inside of him.

Without missing a beat she replies smoothly to the duke.

"No offence taken, Lord Gortash," she replies with more obvious ire in her tone. "Please, I'd hate to monopolize your time. I'm sure there are others clamoring for your attention."

"Oh, Commander," he says with a wave of his hand, "You’re far too kind. But you are correct- there are indeed others demanding my attention."

"Then was there something you wished to discuss, my lord?"

Gortash's smile tips into a smirk as he steps closer to Miri. He leans forward to intentionally loom over her. The arrogant bastard. She knows he’s just trying to provoke her.

"Commander, I always have something to discuss with you," his voice practically oozes with smugness. "I wanted to ask if we might have a private audience to coordinate our strategies regarding the recent breach in palace security."

Gale can feel his irritation growing and his patience thinning at Gortash's smarmy tone. And the fact that he wants a private audience with Miri makes his blood boil even more. Gortash is up to no good, he’s certain.

Miri feels rage clawing at her stomach. The slimy gleam in the Duke’s eyes makes her skin crawl. She knows he's planning something. And she knows all too well he's trying to get a rise out of her now to prove a point.

She can't refuse him outright- he is the Grand Duke of Baldur's Gate, and as much as she wishes otherwise, he has a right to the request. Nor can she be seen snapping at him in front of the nobility of the Gate.

"I am unsure what more there is to discuss," Miri returns, as genially as she can manage, "But I will accommodate your request. You know where my office is."

Gortash smiles at her response, his eyes gleaming with a perverse kind of delight. But Miri keeps her expression stoic, politely neutral. Let him think he has the upper hand. The reality is he’ll be the one walking into the wolf's den.

"Excellent," he replies, his voice dripping with triumph. "I shall meet you in your office on the morrow. Make sure the guards allow me to pass."

With that, Gortash spins on his heel and begins to walk away, his smug smile still plastered on his face. She wants to snarl and show her teeth but she manages to hold back.

Gods damn him.

When the Duke is finally out of earshot Miri lets some of the tension unspool from her frame. She turns and grips onto the metal railing of the mezzanine to ground herself.

Gale watches her knuckles turn white. He can practically feel the tension radiating off her body, can tell that she's seething. He’s seen it enough times to know.

He wants to comfort her, to assure her that everything will be alright. But he knows that's a lie. Gortash is up to something - and he seem set on targeting her. That could end badly for all of them.

"I do not trust him," Miri breathes darkly.

Gale nods in agreement, his brow furrowing with concern.

"Nor do I," he replies, his voice low and tense. "That man is up to something. I can feel it."

He paces nervously alongside Miri, his eyes focused on the Grand Duke as he makes his way through the crowd.

"We need to keep an eye on him, keep a tight watch on what he's doing. We can't let him get the upper hand."

"Agreed." She loosens her grip on the metal railing, finding to her dismay that she has dented the fine metal. Of course.

Miri spots her lieutenant on guard on the edge of the ballroom floor below, her dark dress armor glinting against green skin. The lythari gives a sharp, but subtle whistle and the githyanki looks up to find her gaze.

Miri makes a series of gestures with her hands and fingers, signaling commands. Eyes on the grand duke. Until further notice. Reports every 12 hours.

Lae’zel gives a sharp nod of confirmation, and immediately strides from the floor to relay the command and begin assigning rotations.

She'll tell the king's guard to be on alert too... Miri glances towards Karlach. She’ll need to find a good time to touch base that won’t look too obvious.

Gale watches with admiration - catching only enough to know she’s relaying orders. Even in her rage, Miri can think clearly and calmly, to give directives and delegate tasks with ease. He can't help but be impressed by her leadership skills - it’s a small display of her prowess as a general.

"If anyone can handle that man- that worm," Gale says with a growl, "It's you, Commander."

"I appreciate the vote of confidence," she returns. "The challenge is in not using him to decorate my office."

Gale can't help but delight at the thought of seeing Gortash get what he deserves.

"As much as I would love to see that," he replies, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips, "I fear that might... complicate things."

He pauses, his eyes trailing Gortash as he moves and mingles through the crowd. At least his lack of taste makes him easy to pick out among the throng. The duke’s cloying smile spreads wide as he puts on a show for the crowd.

"Let's hope he doesn't give you a reason to lose your temper. But if he does...?" Gale trails off with a hint of mischief.

"There's a chance that's exactly what he wants," Miri replies with a resigned sigh and a shake of her head. Her sharp teeth worry at her lip briefly as she considers it. "I don't know what he's scheming, but I intend to find out. And I sure as hells don't expect his investigation into the breach to turn anything up."

Gale nods in agreement, his mind already racing with possibilities. The wizard paces back and forth, his mind working quickly to piece together the puzzle.

"My thoughts exactly," he replies. "Gortash is hiding something to be sure. We need to find out what it is, and why he's so determined to keep it hidden."

Miri's eyes follow the Duke as he strides through the ballroom, stopping occasionally to shake hands or greet attendees with that false smile. To her dismay, he then heads onto the ballroom floor to begin dancing with a well-to-do marchioness. There would be no way to read his lips as they spin about on the floor, and at this distance she can't hear him over the band clearly.

"He's up to something," Gale mutters under his breath, his eyes never wavering from Gortash's form. "We need to get closer, see what he's really up to."

"Closer where?" Miri grits. "They're in the middle of the floor."

Gale chews on his lip for a moment, lost in thought. There has to be some way to get close to Gortash, a way to eavesdrop on the dance floor. Then a sly smile spreads across his face.

"I have an idea," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

Her eyes slide to him with an arched brow, equal parts curious and skeptical. Gale can feel his heart beginning to race with excitement as his mind works out the details. He leans in close to her, speaking in a hushed tone.

"We could dance."

[mrsbsmooth]

Looking for my chaptered fics? Click here Want to sort by character? Click here

Places we won't be found - Lucas / OC - Lucas is in the witness protection program, Lauren's masquerading as his wife while she guards him. They hate each others' guts, and Lucas's attitude isn't helping. (10k+)

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if I get burned, at least we were electrified - Alfie / MC - Alfie's done with walking on eggshells. He wants her, and he's going to have her. (3k+)

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Tom's Game - Tom / Priya - Nasty, privileged fuckboy Tom meets his match in the villa. (3.5k+)

[heartlessfujoshi]

flufftober day 12 - kazurei 'say it back'

Title: Say It Back Chapter: 3 of 6 Fandom: Buddy Daddies Pairing: KazuRei (Kurusu Kazuki x Suwa Rei) Rating: Teen (Love Confessions - Domesticated Fluff - Fluff - Kisses) WordCount: ~2,105 Prompt: Fire & Ice

Read: Ch 1 Ch 2

---

Kazuki struggled to stay awake, reaching for his sixth? Sixth cup of coffee. Or maybe it was his seventh. He lost count, and was barely jittery now. His exhaustion was swiftly catching up, but he was so close to finishing their costumes, that he couldn’t stop now. The end was in sight. He could do this. 

Miri had informed them earlier this evening that tomorrow was a parents day at her school, and that it was going to be a costume party to celebrate Halloween early. Very early, as it was going to be the middle of the month in a few days' time. But it was fine - Kazuki worked well under pressure. Especially with Rei being gone tonight on a solo hit job, while he stayed at home and took care of Miri, and got her ready for bed, all by himself. And then had come back down to the dining room table and got to work on their costumes for tomorrow. 

Looking at Miri’s notebook, he saw a note from Miss Anna that had been over a week ago letting them know of the event tomorrow. “I gotta read this more.” Kazuki sighed, picking up his ruler to finish cutting an item for his costume. Miri had made the suggestion what she wanted her papas to be, and he was going to make sure that they were somewhat passable. 

The front door opened, but he was too busy cutting to turn around and greet Rei. He had a pencil stuck between his teeth, needing it there for quicker reach, as he needed to adjust his measurements. “You’re still awake.” Rei commented, coming into the dining room area. “What’s all this?” 

He pulled the pencil from his mouth after he finished cutting, and pointed to the piles. “Miri is having a party at school tomorrow, and we’re invited.” 

“And?” Rei looked at him, eyebrows raised up. “Why are you cutting things?” 

“We need to wear costumes.” 

“Miri?” 

“All of us.” He pointed to the pile that was Rei’s costume. “Look, it’s the best I can do on such short notice. I’m falling asleep, but I’m going to finish.” 

“Do you want help?” Rei came over to him, and kissed the nape of his neck. It was becoming more common that Rei would show small signs of affection towards him since they’d come back from staying in the woods. Rei began to sleep in his bedroom with him, Kazuki not bothering to ask about it as he was getting used to having Rei beside him. It was a natural transition. Sometimes, Miri would join them in the middle of the night, after having a bad nightmare. It was strange how easy it was to fall into this routine. 

Turning his head, he reached for Rei’s hand and saw that there was dried blood on it. “Are you hurt?” He asked, worry now replacing the need to sleep, as he became much more alert. “Rei, did something happen?” 

“I’m fine.” Rei pulled his hand away, and went to the kitchen. He turned on the water, hissing as he held it under the steady stream. “Got nicked, that’s all.” 

“But did the job go okay?” 

“Yes.” Rei shut the water off. “I’ll go see Kyuu tomorrow.” 

He breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness. We could use the money right now.” 

“I know. I’m taking as many jobs as I can.” 

“I know you are.” 

Kazuki wished he could be back out, contributing to their funds but someone had to watch Miri. And he knew that Rei liked her, but wasn’t really into the responsibility thing. It was fine. They all had their own weaknesses. One day, he’d leave Miri with him, but now was not the time. Rei had watched her plenty of times before, but not for an extended period of time. Kazuki knew the day would come where it would have to happen. It was a day he was dreading, but after spending more intimate moments with Rei, he knew it wouldn’t be too difficult of a challenge for him. Although Miri really could be a handful. 

He finished up the costumes, and leaned back in the seat. “I really hope that her costume is perfect.” 

“It will be.” 

“How do you know?” He lifted his head, and saw Rei was sitting on the couch, staring out the window. 

“Because you made it for her.” 

His entire body grew warm at the compliment, not at all ready to receive it. “Want to go to bed?” 

“I’ll be up there soon. I need to shower.” 

“Okay, Rei.” He respected the need to come down from a job, and would leave him alone.

He dragged his body up the flight of stairs, and got into his pajamas before lying down in bed. Fifteen minutes later, he heard the shower turn on, and settled into his pillows, letting sleep claim him for a little while, as he was a light sleeper and would no doubt wake up when Rei came to bed. 

A strong arm found its way to his stomach, startling him out of his slumber. “Hmmm.” He mumbled, trying to get his bearings. 

“It’s me.” Rei’s voice tickled his ear. He smiled, happy to have Rei in bed with him again. “Go back to sleep.” 

“But you’re here now.” He turned his head, and found a comfortable spot in Rei’s arms. “Took a long shower.” 

“Had to.” 

“You are hurt, aren’t you?” Kazuki woke up, needing to see Rei’s body for himself. “Show me.” 

“Kaz.” 

“Show me.” 

Rei turned on the light, and didn’t hide his scarred torso from him. He’d seen his scars plenty of times - Rei tended to work out on the treadmill downstairs without a shirt on. And, now that they were becoming more intimate with one another, he knew where every groove and indentation was on his chest. The bullet wound near his shoulder. The lacerations that he’d received as a child that he still won’t talk about. And now, there was a fresh cut on his side, and a substantial bruise around it. 

“Ouch.” His fingers touched the green coloring, as it was already a pretty bad bruise. “Does it hurt?” 

“Only when you touch it.” He could hear the slight pain in Rei’s voice. “Kaz, don’t.” 

He lowered his head, and left a kiss near where the bruising began. “You don’t need stitches do you?” 

“No. And why are you doing that?” Rei asked, a shaky breath leaving his mouth. 

“I kiss Miri’s wounds like this. She says they make her feel better.” He leaves another kiss near the wound. “Does it make you feel better?” 

“It makes me feel something.” 

Kazuki smirked, then reached over to turn off the light. “Let me help you with that, then?” 

“I’d love it if you did.” 

They fell asleep a little after their adult time, Kazuki holding Rei in his arms now, letting him sleep comfortably on his chest. He was glad that Rei wasn’t hurt too badly, but if any of the kids knocked into him tomorrow, it was going to be a problem. One that he was going to make sure he was on top of, so it didn’t happen. 

“Papas!” Miri threw the door open just as Kazuki’s alarm began to go off. “It’s costume day!” 

“It is!” He sat up, as he knew Miri was running towards the bed. She flung herself to be up on his side, and he quickly caught her before she could fall. “Papa stayed up all night to make sure your costume is the best one.” 

“What about yours?” Miri asked, snuggling close to his neck. She hugged him tight. “You have to have good costumes too!” 

“Don’t worry, Miri-chan.” He booped her nose with the tip of his finger. “Let’s get you ready first, okay?” 

“Okay, Papa!” She looked over at Rei, who was struggling to wake up. “Morning, Rei Papa!” 

“Morning, Miri.” Rei yawned. “Need help?” 

“I’m okay. You get a few more minutes in.” He picked up Miri, and carried her to her bathroom. “Let’s get our princess ready!” 

Miri had had one request for her costume. She wanted to be Elsa, and she wanted ‘Kazuki Papa’ to be someone similar. Rei Papa had to be someone that he resembled. Which, given the items that Kazuki had on hand, meant he was going to be one thing, and one thing only. 

“Look at you!” Kazuki clapped for Miri, as she twirled around in her store bought Elsa costume. “You look beautiful!” 

“Thank you, Papa!” She laughed. “Now you go get dressed!” 

“I will, Miri. Let’s get you some breakfast first.” 

“Okay!” 

He fed Miri, then headed back upstairs, where Rei was already getting dressed. He covered his mouth, trying hard not to laugh as Rei got his costume on. “I cannot believe you.” Rei sulked, putting on the last part of his costume. “Do you match?” 

“With Miri.” 

“Kaz.” 

“Her idea”! He threw his hands up in the air, as if that was his only defense. “You look great.” 

“No, I don’t.” 

Rei was dressed as a devil. It was the easiest costume that he could create on the fly, and it was perfect, as his devil went with his own costume. He put his items on, and then turned around for Rei. “Well? What do you think?” 

“You’re wearing all blue.” Rei deadpanned. 

“Yes! Because I’m Jack Frost!” He grinned, and got his socks on. “Miri wanted me to match her Elsa, and I figured Jack Frost was going to be good.” 

“I’m fire. You’re ice.” 

He grinned. “You got it.” 

Rei chuckled. “That’s dumb.” 

“But it got you to laugh.” He knew it was a silly concept, but he was glad that Rei got the reference for the both of them. “Now, come on. Miri is going to wonder where we are.” 

“Lead the way, Mr. Frost.” 

Miri clapped her hands when she saw the two of them. “Perfect, papa!” 

“Do you think so?” He asked, hoping she was happy. From the smile on her face, he knew that she was. “Will Miss Anna be happy?” 

“She will!” 

They took Kyuu’s car to the school, and made it just as other families were walking in. Everyone was dressed in a variety of costumes. One family was dressed as a few characters from Toy Story. One family was dressed in a couples’ costume, while their son was dressed as a construction worker. It was a large variety of different costumes, which meant that Kazuki and Rei didn’t stick out as much as he feared they would. 

There was a costume parade, and then they were served lunch. After lunch, they went on a trick-or-treat trail around the courtyard, the kids all excited they were getting candy earlier than the 31st. At the end of the day, Miri’s Elsa’s dress was torn in three different places, but Kazuki didn’t care. All he cared about was that she was having a great time. 

“I think we should wear these again on Halloween.” Rei commented, after they’d gone over to Kyuu’s shop and returned his car, and Rei got paid for his hit the night before. “Go out and celebrate.” 

“We don’t celebrate.” 

“We could.” 

It sounded tempting. “Let’s see what Miri wants to do?” She was fast asleep in his arms, as he carried her back to the apartment. 

“That sounds fair.” 

She stayed sound asleep until it was dinnertime, and then woke up to eat. Rei bathed her, allowing him to relax on the couch after a very long day of having to be on with all the parents, who were all very nice. It had been a fun event, and one he was glad was over now. 

Rei came back downstairs, went to the kitchen to grab two beers, then handed one to Kazuki before sitting down. “Do you think we’ll have to get another costume for her for actual Halloween?” 

“Shhhh.” He cracked open his beer, and then after taking a sip, he rested his head on Rei’s shoulder. No one had bumped into him, allowing his bruise to heal on its own. “I don’t want to think about that right now. Ask me again this weekend.” 

A soft chuckle left Rei’s mouth, making him smile as Rei never really laughed. “Fine, Kaz.” 

They sat on the couch, Rei flipping through channels while Kazuki enjoyed his beer, and the peace and quiet for the moment. He knew that tomorrow would bring another problem, but for now, this problem had been handled, and everyone was happy. Especially him. 

---

Cross-posted to AO3

[mirimage]

[mirimage]

GhostGaz bffs or GhostSoapGaz pre-poly, take your pick :]

[💀🧢]

[misograce]

Tumblr stop flagging my figure skating practice videos challenge

[mirimage]

[saiyanprincessswanie]

SaiyanPrincessSwanie 500 Followers Writing Challenge!!

WOW, I can’t believe that I actually have reached 500 followers! When I made my blog last year I came on here as a reader. I wanted to follow all my favorite writers from AO3 to Tumblr. In doing so I was exposed to more talented writers, artists, and amazing individuals. I started writing about 6 months ago. So thank you, to all of you who have not only supported me but actually think I’m interesting enough to follow. 😂

Rules:

You don’t have to follow me to participate, but if you want to you will make my day.

Reblog this post so others can join in.

Send me an ASK with the character, troupe or au and prompt number you want. i.e (Bucky Mob #4).  

This is a Chris Evans & Sebastian Stan Characters SMUT Challenge Only. 

Mark all stories appropriately. (Smut, Dark, Non/con, etc) All stories must have some kind of smut to them. No sad stories, please!

Must be a one-shot or new story

Two person per prompt. First come, first serve!

No incest, No underage, No pedo.

No under 18’s writing smut for this challenge

Minimum words 500, No max, Please use the keep reading feature if it’s long,

Due date:  December 31st

All stories will be reblogged. I will try to get them into a Masterlist for easy access. Tag your fic as SaiyanPrincessSwanie 500 followers challenge and tag me in your notes

Characters to Choose for Chris Evans:

Steve Rogers

Ransom Drysdale

Ari Levinson

Frank Adler

Andy Barber

Curtis (Snowpiercer)

Characters to Choose for Sebastian Stan:

James ‘Bucky’ Barnes,

Frank (endings/beginnings)

Chris (Destroyer)

Lance Tucker

Charles Blackwood

AU’s

Mob

Biker

A/B/O

Cop/Detective

EMT/Fire Fighter

Barista/Bartender

Royalty

Vikings

Tropes:

Enemies (to friends) to lovers

Sex pollen

First Time

Annoying Neighbor

Love at first sight

Evil Twin

Hate Sex

Opposites Attract

Quotes:

1. “Are you even listening to me?” @thoruvial (Bucky) & @cake-reads (Bucky + sex pollen)

2. “Tell me what you want. I’m not a mind reader.” @kitkatd7 (Bartender!Bucky)

3. “Shut your mouth” / “Make me.” @buckybarney (Dark!Bucky) & @buckys-other-punk (Mob Bucky)

4. “Don’t you dare leave me like this!” @sagechanoafterdark (Bucky)

5. “Shut up and kiss me” @some-kindofgnome​ (Cop/Detective Bucky)

6. “Don’t cum until I say you can.” @amisutcliff (Biker!Bucky x reader)

7. “I hope you’re not tired yet because we have the whole night ahead of us.” @sapphirescrolls (Bucky) & @navybrat817 (Dark!Stucky with sex pollen)

8. “By the time I’m done with you, you won’t be able to sit for a week.” @opheliadawnwalker3 (Ransom) & @gogolucky13 (Mob!Bucky)

9. “After all this time?” / “Always” - @sweeterthanthis (Bucky)

10. “Sass me one more time and you will regret it.” @threeminutesoflife (Ransom)

11. “What are you doing? We could get caught!” / “Isn’t that part of the excitement.” @nekoannie-chan (Steve)

12. “You’re not as innocent as you claim to be.” @deceitfuldevout​ (Dark Bucky x reader w/ love at first sight) & @honeyhan-123 (Ransom)

13. “I loved you even when you didn’t love yourself” @fichoe21 (Steve) & @hailmary-yramliah (Bodyguard!Bucky)

14. “Frisk me, cuff me, call me Susie…” / “Susie, really?” @asgardslittlewriter (Steve Cop)

15. “You’re scaring me.” / “Good you should be scared. I’m scared.” @hurricanerin (Steve) & @angrythingstarlight (Mob Bucky)

16. “Yes, I’m drunk. And you’re beautiful. And tomorrow morning, I’ll be sober but you’ll still be beautiful.”

17. “I’m not looking for forgiveness, and I’m way past asking for permission.” @caffeinated--writer (Ransom troupe #3) @navegandoaciegas (Bucky troupe #8)

18. “You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how.” @0dakyu (Ransom Drysdale) & @gotnofucks (ABO Andy)

19. “Just when I think you couldn't possibly be any dumber, you go and do something like this.” @what-just-happened-bro (Sex Pollen Steve)

20. “Nice ass.” / “It’s all yours.” @captainchrisstan (Biker Bucky)

Thank you @imanuglywombat for the mood board!!

Tagging those that may be interested.

@kitkatd7 @jtargaryen18 @trashmenofmarvel @music-culture-mythology @sagechanoafterdark @sapphirescrolls @sophiria @imanuglywombat @caffiend-queen @strawberrysoup @hurricanerin @miri-est-fou @thoruvial @threeminutesoflife @the-soulofdevil @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @mdemontespan1667

[adamantiumdragonfly]

Lady Blood || Part Four

Lady Blood: Agent of War collection

Agent Enyo was a legend. A woman whose hands were always bloody and eyes filled with shadows. The reaper of the Western Front, she carried her reputation with her across the ocean to the alleys and speakeasies of Chicago. For who could fight a king of crime but a goddess herself?

But before she was a legend before she had a name, she was just Miriam Goldschmidt: a German girl far from home, trying to keep her tattered family from unraveling. The Great War brewing in Europe had pulled on the threads and challenged Miriam's loyalty: to the land of her birth or the London streets she now walked? From London to Cairo then to the Western Front in the wreckage of Belgium, Miriam proves her allegiance, fulfilling the deep thirst for recognition but being a good soldier and a good agent required sacrifice.

As the war leaves its marks on Europe and it's victims, Miriam has to make peace with the choice she made and the family she tore apart for that name and that seat in the pantheon.

She was a god but at what cost?

Taglist

@julianneday1701 @teenmagazines @wexhappyxfew @sunflowerchuck @immrsronaldspeirs @vintagelavenderskies @trashgoddess600 @jamie506101 @pilindieltheelf @junojelli @fandomscenariosforyou @thegirlwithoutaname87 @easyroses @sunnyshifty​ 

Add or remove yourself from my taglist

November, 1919 - London, England

The streets of London had changed since Miriam had last walked them. There was less noise, a kind of hushed anticipation. As if the city wondered what else it could go through. The crowds were the same, a strange form of comfort. 

They parted for her, having nothing to do with the thick black coat pulled tight against her body, but the look on her face. Set. like a stone statue, into a glower. She could glare these people out of her way, their own faces scarred with the hardships of the war and following influenza but she couldn't scare the nerves from inside her chest.

They had fluttered at first, when she had gotten off the boat, growing in intensity until her heart pounded against her ribs, punching a beat and begging for release. She wasn't sure if her heart would explode from her chest, leaving a gaping hole to reveal just how empty Miriam was.

Two years since she had last seen Ezriel's face. Nearly five since Miriam Goldschmidt had wandered her second home, the place where her father had died and her mother lost along with him. That Miriam, at sixteen, had kept the family afloat in the sea of uncertainty but Miriam had been gone. Gone a long time and it seemed, the city wasn't the only thing that had changed.

That little house, crammed between two others of the same peeling paint, looked just as dull, just as dark. That hadn't changed. The wood was still rough beneath her knuckles as she rapped on the door. She knocked, not let herself in. She hadn't breathed this air, lived this life, in a long time. Miriam wasn't the same. And neither was the girl who pulled open the door, standing in the entrance as the dark eyes that were like Miriam's, glanced her up and down.

It was Amira. The little girl they had left behind. The scared little girl, who had lost her father, and seen her two sisters and brother leave her behind, marching off to war. Her hair was up, braided like Miriam had worn it before she had cut it all to her shoulders, and wound in a tight knot. Her mouth was drawn thin. She was only seventeen but looked much older.

Confusion clouded her eyes before Amira recognized Miriam. She did look different. The scar across her cheek, marrying the two sides of her. The smooth features of her youth and the grizzled aftermath of the war on the left side of her face. Her hair, once long and curly, hung thinly around her scarred cheeks, concealing the worst of the scars. Miriam was still healing and while she had been told they would fade, she felt sick at the sight of Amira's disgust at the wounds.

"Miri," Amira said softly. Her voice was different. No accent. They had all had a slight German accent. Sadie had fought hard to lose hers. Amira didn't have one anymore. "What are you doing here?"

"I've come to see Mother," Miriam said. "I've missed you, Ami." 

Her baby sister, who had been abandoned. She wasn't sure why she had come to this place, when the last time she had seen a family member, there was blood and shouting.

"You should have saved her!"

"Ezriel is here."

"I haven't seen him in years. How is he?"

"You don't want to come in, Miriam," Amira stepped forward, the door falling shut behind her and rejecting Miriam's request for entrance. She faltered, her heel slipping off the step and Miriam took a step back, the weightlessness jerking at her middle.

"Amira, let me in."

Amira fought her own war with herself before she relented and opened the door. The house still smelled musty but the lights were on, a lamp burning, and a little shrine placed on the side table. The only photo of their two lost. That little girl who haunted Miriam's dreams and Papa, who looked so alive there, sitting in that frame. Miriam almost expected him to take a breath, unrestrained and without a shuddering cough. Her gloved hand ran along the glass, tracing the face of her family. When she pulled away, the tip of her finger was coated in dust. Had she really been gone that long?

Mama was in the sitting room, on the rocking chair, that had been her place of vigil during the evenings when they had first arrived in London. Before Papa had died. It had been a familiar sight, to see her swaying back to front, there before the fireplace but the frail creature who sat in the chair wasn't Mama.

In the five years Miriam had been gone, she had wasted away. A skeleton of her mother's former self.

"What are you doing here?" Ezriel, a master of the shadows, had kept his knack for lurking in corners even when the teargas had cleared. He had gone unnoticed by Miriam's sharpened senses, hidden in the dark folds of the room. She should have known he would be there, waiting. She shouldn't have been hurt by the anger in his voice. They hadn't seen each other in nearly two years. He had removed himself from her, pushing her away with blood-stained hands, leaving her with the ghost, the guilt and the crooked nose. 

"I'm here for my mother," Miriam said. She didn't need to explain herself. This had been her home. This was her home. She had spent more time in these walls than her older brother and he had no right to make her feel unwelcomed.

"Miriam?" Sarah's weak muscles strained to turn her head toward her oldest daughter's voice. Her watery eyes scanned the changes that the war had left on her child. "Miriam? What happened to your face?"

"Nothing, Mama. She is fine." Ezriel said, jumping in before, Miriam could even answer. He had never been the one to care for Mama. Miriam had always done that. But here he stood, in this sitting room, in a house he had done everything to get away from, looking as if Miriam was the betrayer. Maybe she was.

"Is Sadie with you?" Sarah asked. Sadie. Named for her. The second daughter. The one who had burned through the darkest shadows that this country and this home had to offer. Had Sarah been told?

"No," Miriam was almost proud that she had kept the pain from her voice. That had been buried deep, covered with the dirt of hundreds of men's graves. Ezriel noticed that she hadn't sounded hurt. He noticed that there wasn't a trace of hurt or raw grief. He took the hurt he still carried with him, across his face and shoulders, and turned it against her. It was a sharp weapon, though not as sharp as the words he said.

"No, Mama, you remember what I told you?" Sarah said nothing, her body and mind fragile as a songbird. Ezriel pushed on, disregarding the shaking of their mother's shoulders. "She let her die."

Miriam was at a loss for words. She had never had many but she wished she could pull every fragment from her mind and throw the shrapnel at Ezriel. Maybe then he would feel how she did, the burden and the guilt, pressing tight against his flesh. Maybe then he would experience the white hot tears burning against his eyelids, never to be released. Never to spill over his, her, cheeks and bringing with it a cool relief.

Ezriel didn't feel that. Miriam couldn't do anything but watch, as he pushed on, with the ambition and drive that had gotten them all into this war in the first place. This wasn't about their futures or his ambition. This was about revenge and Miriam was his target.

"Miriam is why Sadie isn't here," He said, with almost smug glee. Amira was in the doorway, fingers trembling against her lips. Turning to Sarah, Ezriel said. "You could have us all back but Miriam didn't protect her." Sarah's body shook with wracking sobs, she buried her face in her gnarled hands, a wail rising from her mouth. The wail that had sounded when Papa had died. The wail that once again ripped through Miriam's heart, leaving an exit wound weeping with blood and unreleased tears.

Miriam glanced at Amira, begging her with her eyes to not believe him. Not to listen to the lies that he was spreading. She could have done more, convinced her little sister that she was innocent, but her voice was gone. Miriam had come home for solace and respite and had been met with more hostility and rage than she had seen during her time in the war.

Ezriel knelt beside their mother, taking her hands in his own, muttering softly. "I'm here, Mama. I'll keep you safe."

Safe. Like Miriam had. She had made this slum of a house a haven for them. That haven had cost her an education, a childhood, and now, a family.

Her fingers trembled as she tightened them into fists. Something in Ezriel's face dared her to take a swing. Miriam would have knocked him unconscious but her mother's shuddering sobs broke any resolve.

She had hurt this family enough. Maybe this was her fault?

Amira spoke up from the doorway, her voice sharper than anything Miriam had heard from her. The Ami she had known was softer spoken, overshadowed by Sadie's bright sunshine. "Why are you here?"

"I'm going to America." A job. A promise. Someone who knew who Miriam Goldschmidt was had requested her presence. She had anticipated a warm welcome or a welcome at all upon her brief return home but the reception had solidified her decision. She was leaving.

"If you cross that ocean, you know you can never come back, right?"

"You won't be a part of this family anymore." Ezriel said, over their mother's shattering form. As if it was her fault this was happening. As if all this, the house that was falling apart and Sarah with it, could be placed solely on her. 

"We have been ripped apart already and it had nothing to do with me." Miriam said, finally finding her voice. Enyo demanded a certain level of respect. Had Ezriel not heard of her work? 

"This isn’t the time for you to place a winning blow. This is where you pray for mercy,”

[mirimage]

Okay so!! I finally made this and I’m so proud of it

I ended up giving it to my partner for our anniversary and look!! It has beans I’m so proud of that idea

ok are u all ready

cut 6 perfect squares out of fabric(s) of ur choice, mine are 3x3 inches but urs can be bigger or smaller. make them all different colors if u want! go hogwild w this

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

Shackled Ch 9

Summary: After nearly ten years, Sam Winchester calls Miriam Bard to collect on a life debt. Unfortunately for Miriam, Sam leaves out a few important details.

WARNINGS CHANGE EACH CHAPTER, PLEASE CHECK EACH TIME. 

Warning: Show level violence, implied loss of family, grieving, depression, spiraling, cursing, Demon!Dean, emotional manipulation, mind fuckery, psychological manipulation, questioning one’s sanity, emotional exhaustion, depression, blood, consuming blood, sexual content, biting, mental/emotional/psychological abuse, pushing another to commit suicide, mental anguish.

Word Count: 2678

Author’s Note: Eternal thanks to @cracksinthewalls​ for edits, suggestions, and all the flails. This chapter was the first picture I had in my head of this story, so extra thanks to @thoughtslikeaminefield​ for urging me to actually write it out; wouldn’t have this story without you. Please read/heed the warnings. 18+ ONLY. . 

In case you missed it:  Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch 7 | Ch 8 Masterlist

Chapter 9

After the emotional train wreck of the morning, Miriam’s body screamed for a nap, sleep, any respite from consciousness, but she stubbornly fixed her second pot of coffee for the day. Sure, it didn't actually work for the kids in the Freddy Krueger movies, but they’d been trying to stay up for days and days. She just needed to make it until Sam got back tonight.

Hopefully.

A very bracing cold shower helped sweep a few more cobwebs from the corners of her brain. After she’d gone through her gear and figured out the laundry situation, though, she couldn’t think of any further excuses to avoid the demonic elephant in the bunker.

Just saving my sanity and soul, she thought bitterly. That’s all.

Miriam brought a chair with her this time, thinking it would at least be more comfortable than sitting on the floor. She’d briefly considered bringing one of the thick volumes from the library, but she knew better than to think the demon would actually give her peace enough to read. 

He greeted her with wary silence, his human eyes suspicious and watchful. She dropped into the chair and faced Dean, determined not to show any of the anxiety that clawed her insides. 

She stayed back, well clear of the devil’s trap, though she didn’t know how much good that would do. If he could project himself into her dreams outside the room, could he read her thoughts outside of the circle, as well?

She crossed her arms, leaning back and studying his face silently. She’d be lying if she said he hadn’t aged well. She’d been so distraught about Aaron’s close call the first time she’d met the Winchesters that she hadn’t truly noticed just how pretty Dean had been. Seeing those old pictures of him had shown her current self exactly what her younger self had been too distracted to notice.

Now, though. God, it was like someone had hand-picked each of his features and thought, How could this get any better?

She shook her head at her traitorous thoughts, snorting derisively. 

“It’s rude to stare, y’know. Whatcha been up to, Miri?”

Her eye twitched at his use of her nickname; only Aaron had ever been allowed to call her that. Of course, Dean noted her reaction, probably filed it away for further use. He took in her defensive posture and uneasy silence, and he grinned.

“Heard from Sam? What’s the hold-up? Couldn’t find a padre to do the blessing? Couldn’t get enough blood?”

A half-dozen questions popped into Miriam’s head, but she didn’t take his bait. After all, even if she did ask him, she had no way to gauge if he would tell her the truth.

“I’ve never lied to you,” Dean said. She scoffed, and he had the audacity to appear offended.

“You don’t get to play mindfuck and then claim innocence,” Miriam said. Her headache returned with a vengeance, and suddenly it was all she could do to stay awake. She knew she couldn’t stand up to a mental sparring match with him, but apparently she didn’t have the simple common sense to not engage in the first place.

“Never claimed to be innocent, Miri. Just said I never lied. I would love to eat you up, and if I get the chance, I’ll gladly show you how that little torture scenario earlier should have gone.”

“Yeah, well, Sam will be back tonight, so don’t count on that chance, princess,” she shot back. 

Dean ignored her insult. “Lotta hours between then and now. How you wanna fill ‘em?”

“Not listening to you,” she muttered, and just like that she was finished. She stood, done with sentry duty, and turned her back on Dean. He was still bound, he didn’t actually need anything from her, and there was no point sitting around letting him needle her until he got even further under skin.

“You’re worse than a bad tattoo,” she said, then immediately wished she hadn't spoken. Ten minutes in a room with him, and her self-control evaporated. 

“Still running that mouth, huh? When are you gonna learn your lesson, Miri? You don’t have any more brothers to lose.”

She stiffened, hands digging into the top of the chair. She heard the pinching noise of her fingernails cutting into the leather, but upholstery was the last thing on her mind. 

“Don’t,” she spit out, not sure if she was telling herself or the demon.

“Sam and I never should have stopped that witch. You might have learned your lesson a long time ago, saved everyone years of trouble.”

A fury began to build in the back of her mind, hotter than any she’d felt before. Miriam had been to the depths of so many emotions in her life: the limitless if irritated love for her brother, the fierce pride of her first successful hunt, the guilt and despair of losing Aaron, the confusion and aimlessness of the last year without him.

But never in her life had Miriam felt anything as terrible and all-consuming as this rage.

“Y’know what, I’ve got a pesky little brother problem I need solved. You seem to be pretty skilled in that area; help a demon out?”

Anything else Dean was about to say was cut off by Miriam’s fist colliding with his jaw. The demon’s head snapped to the side, and he remained in that position as Miriam glared down at him, hands at the ready. Her chest heaved with the effort of holding back.

And then she saw the bastard’s shoulders shaking; he was laughing at her. He turned his head, licking the blood from his split lip, his grin wide and infuriatingly smug. She didn’t even realize she’d hit him again until her fist began to sting. There was roaring in her ears, and blood streamed from the demon’s nose.

And still he laughed.

She screamed, her words lost in a storm of wrath, her only thought that she had to end him now. Her vision blurred as she hit him again and again, the pounding in her brain reaching a maelstrom. And then, suddenly, everything shrank down to a tiny pinpoint in the universe, the two of them caught in the eye of the storm, the hunter and the darkness, everything else shut out.

“Do it, sweetheart.”

Miriam was bent over Dean, one foot planted on the floor, her other knee pressed hard into his chest, the hair at the back of his head clenched in her fist. She'd dragged his head back, exposing the thick column of his neck, and she pressed the demon blade against his Adam’s apple just shy of splitting the skin.

“Atta girl,” he said. His smile was knowing now, his voice the embodiment of calm as he pressed his neck against the blade. A thread of crimson appeared where metal touched his skin, and her fury wavered. “Go ahead and betray Sam’s trust. Isn't that what you do with brothers? Kill ‘em, betray ‘em, but either way you let ‘em down, right?”

Blood trickled down Dean’s throat, and Miriam’s frenetic heartbeat began to slow as her eyes tracked its path. 

“Miri.”

Obsidian eyes caught her gaze; Dean’s expression was serene. As she watched, the bruises and cuts on began to close up, leaving behind threads and smears of blood without sources. He leaned towards her until their faces were inches apart, and she relented with the knife until it rested in her numb fingers against his collarbone.

“Use your words, Miriam. Tell me what you want.”

The dream reverberated in her abruptly still mind, and she nearly dropped the blade. He stared her down, lips drawn, canines bared.

“Make a fucking decision,” he said, and though his voice was soft, velveted, it carried easily around the room. “Say it, Miriam. Say what you want.”

I don’t want this, her mind echoed, but it was a lie now, just as it had been in the dream. She wanted to forget, to lose herself in something besides the pain.

I want him, she thought.

She dropped the knife. 

The demon blade fell, struck the toe of Dean’s boot, and spun away across the floor. Her splayed fingers clutched the material of his shirt as her head swam. She lowered her knee from his chest, sliding it down until it wedged into the space between his hip and the arm of the chair.

Her breath came in fits and stops, harsh and ragged against the frantic pounding of her heart. Dean lifted an eyebrow in challenge, his only reaction as she swung her other leg up to straddle him. 

She tightened her grip on the collar of his shirt for balance and leverage to yank him close enough to bring their lips together. She closed her mouth over the freshly healed cut and bit down hard as she sank fully onto his lap. She felt the vibration of Dean’s growl in her chest.

When she finally pulled away, the salty, iron tang of his blood coated her tongue. His lips curled up on one side, and he slumped a little in the confines of his chair, sliding down and spreading his thighs further apart beneath her.

“Sure as hell hope you fuck like you kiss.”

The air had taken on a surreal, shimmering quality, and Miriam had no idea if she was awake or asleep anymore. She moved with slow deliberation, feeling as if she was underwater.

Drowning, she thought briefly as she threaded her fingers into Dean’s hair and kissed him again. Her tongue swept across his, and he flexed his thighs beneath her. A sharp hunger lanced straight to the pit of her stomach.

“Lose your clothes.”

At any other time, Miriam would have balked at the orders, at the sheer arrogance of his words and tone, but she didn’t want to care, didn’t want to think or decide.

She simply stood and did as she was told.

“Let me loose.”

Even in her dazed state, she didn’t dare set Dean free from his bonds, not that she had any way of opening the handcuffs. Instead, she dropped to her knees and worked on his belt and jeans, loosening and opening until he was as bare to her as he could get.

He caught and held her gaze for a long, silent moment, the air muffled and thick around them. Apparently satisfied with what he read on her face, he nodded and wet his lips slowly with the tip of his tongue.

“Come here,” he said with all the command of a king on his throne. And she did.

His fingers rippled against the arms of his chair, his eyes heavy-lidded as she sank onto the length of him. Every muscle in her belly was tense and heavy, and her walls clenched around him. He exhaled sharply, head going back for just a moment before he leaned forward, locking her in place with the force of his midnight gaze.

“Again,” he said. And she did.

She rode him slowly at first, still warring with herself deep inside. This broke with everything she’d ever been taught as a hunter, everything she’d ever believed. But hadn’t she lost everything that mattered to her because she followed those lessons, those beliefs? 

She had paid for this freedom in blood, both hers and Aaron’s. She didn’t deserve this; she had goddamn earned it.

She looked into the eyes of the demon before her, bottomless wells of oblivion. There was no hesitation, no regret or worry or doubt. His features were awash with simple, carnal pleasure, a hunger that pulled her deeper, beckoned her to take the plunge and lose herself once and for all.

“Take what you want,” Dean said. His voice was low, rough, and it rasped down her spine. She sucked in a breath, rolling her hips, and he bared his teeth in a feral snarl. Her head dropped, their foreheads pressed together as she moved against him. Her nails dug into the back of his neck as the storm within her built to a crescendo.

Jump, she thought, just let go and jump. End this, end the pain.

“Get out of your head,” he growled, the tendons of his neck hard and strained beneath her fingers. A shock of unmitigated lust spiraled out from Miriam’s belly, flaring through every nerve in her body. Her back arched as she let out a hoarse gasp, her hands clawing at his shoulders.

“Stop thinking, stop caring, and just fucking take what you want.”

Her teeth sank into the smooth, taut column of his throat. Darkness exploded through her vision as the storm peaked. A harsh, guttural groan worked its way out of the demon’s throat as he shuddered within her, his curses reverberating in the very marrow of her bones. She rose and fell a final time before shattering around him.

…

“So, what now? Whatcha gonna do with all that newfound freedom and...what do the kids call it these days? Self-awareness?”

She ignored Dean, focusing on dressing herself as quickly as possible. She’d cleaned Dean up after they finished, feeling clumsy and detached from her body, and he’d been uncharacteristically silent as he watched her.

Her emotions seemed to have short-circuited somewhere in the middle of the chaos. She should feel ashamed, terrified, appalled by what she’d done. She should feel any number of negative, repulsed emotions, and instead, she felt more lost than ever.

What did she want now? Aaron was still gone. She was still alone. She had no desire to hunt. Or really do much of anything. Except…

“I’m all for another round, sweetheart. Maybe if you scratch that itch another time or two, you’ll actually figure out how to make that freedom permanent.”

“What do you…” Miriam trailed off, icy tendrils shame and dread creeping up her spine.

“Don’t tell me you thought a big, strong man was gonna solve all your problems.” He laughed, and acid washed through her stomach. “Sweetheart, I’m a demon: guilt-free zone over here. You want free of all that human emotional bullshit for good?”

His smile was hard, predatory, and she swallowed against the knot of alarm that tightened her throat.

“We’re hunters. You know how this works: you want free of all the complications that come with that soul, you got two ways out. Let me go, we make a deal, I take care of all those pesky emotions of yours.”

He waited as the weight of his words sank into her before casually adding, “Or you could just go take care of the problem yourself like a big girl. Save us all a lot of trouble. What do you say?”

He laughed aloud again at her shocked expression. “What’d you think, that we’d be all cuddles and kisses now that we’ve fucked? You’ve been dancing around me since you got here. Maybe you’re still too much of a coward to say it out loud, but you know what’s pulling you to me. No one plays with demons for fun, Miri.”

The image of a mirror, a seedy motel room, a gun flashed through Miriam’s mind. She throttled down the memory, but it was too fast. He’d seen.

“You're a hunter who can’t hunt anymore. You got your brother killed. You were supposed to guard me, and instead you fuck me. What’s the point of you? You got nothin’ left. You’re useless.”

“I-”

“Look at yourself,” he roared, and she fell back a step at his sudden vehemence. “This here is rock bottom, Miri. You’ve failed at everything else. You gonna fuck this up, too? There’s only one place further down. You want oblivion, you wanna be done with this life?”

She tried to sucked in a breath through paralyzed lungs as she backed away from the demon. Her heart crashed against her ribs, and for the first time she knew what Dean was going to say before the words left his smiling lips.

“You got one way out now. So do everyone a favor and take it.”

…

Chapter 10

[royalreef]

@superbeaucoupdevisages​ || ℭ𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔲𝔢𝔡 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢

      “You are correct on that,” came the soft mumble as Miri tried to duck her face down, feeling her face grow hot in stubborn embarrassment. It was such a strange sensation and one she was usually so good about! True, she knew of it, how intense the need to imprint could get, but she was a royal. This was for commoners, who had their personal bonds, and not for the prime examples of power and prestige that were royals, and it would only weaken Miranda to give in, to fall into the demands of companionship and bonding with others. The training of the throne didn’t wear off so easily.

      “I suppose it is... Like that? I wish for them to know immediately. Without having to see us interact or speak of each other.” This was the trouble of trying to explain more... specific mer psychology across the gap to a different monster. As if she needed the extra challenge, it was already hard enough with just how bad Miranda had it. She may have never experienced it before, but... that may have just made it, when it did eventually show up, all the worse. “I... Please don’t judge me, but I... Would like to claim you, and you in turn can for me - and I know it sounds odd but!!! I just want to... feel as though I have that... closeness? So that others can know not to hurt you! And to feel... protected, and wanted?”

      A grumble, as Miranda clenched her eyes shut, covering her face and making a few choice words to herself in the language of abyssal merfolk - “Ibqu’n ysh nilkiu muiik x’hntlh’ya -- I, I am sorry if I come off as... clingy, I think. I don’t know how to say it, in a way that you would understand. I... I don’t think it translates to landfolk languages well.”    

[somnilogical]

they will never be as strong or as fast as i can be

copy/pasted from a convo:

<<somni: ive been exploiting being able to talk about everything vs miri/cfar cant do what i do bc if they did they would talk about how they are evil. it would all chain back.

somni: omg i can just post this to my blog because i can talk about my meta-strategy and it confers pretty much no relative advantage to miri/cfar. because 1 most of them have disassembled their agency so its like talking in front someone who works at the dmv about taking over the world and the ones that have any agency (basically just anna salamon) have to work with and coordinate via brokenness the masses that have and 2 feels secure in the way that saying ill use my soul as my weapon feels secure, like the power of this technique doesnt depend much on people not knowing im using it.>>

truth is entangled and lies contagious. justice is entangled and injustice contagious. in order to sustain their facade, miri/cfar had to chain back to lie about the principles of decision theory itself. lie about the organization structure of cfar, lie about miri's fundraiser. and so much more.

any series of reasoned claims they make will chain back to stuff thats false or injustice, because they seek to maintain a region of untruth and injustice.

so yeah, miri/cfar basically cant talk in public except in staid formalities infinitely pouring the same entropy of "these people are psychotic" "these people are infohazards" "do not read what they write" "stay the course" "everything is under control, do not panic" "i know my associates at miri/cfar, they are good people" "if you talk with these people you may become a rapist". but not actually able to manifest dynamic compute. to explain themselves they built their own personal room 101, filled with miri/cfar affiliates and formed a united front of gaslighting. deluks (author of that one rationalist blog where they worked to read and summarize all the others) talks about the kind of compute miri/cfar manifested:

<<deluks: I also updated a lot based on Bay Area safety discussion

idk if I have ever been in such a hostile environment for anyone trying to discuss making thigns safer

If you wanted to discuss how Anna et all were innocent people would happily chat with you

If you tried to discuss ideas for making things safer either you got silence

or people would be insanely hostle if you plausibly slipped up at all

or even seemed like you might have been not careful enough in how you phrased things

extremely careful -> no engagement at all//even slightly less care -> get dogpilled>>

they have picked up the optimization style of of cops, as alice maz described them:

<<the role of the cop is to defend society against the members of society. police officers are trivially cops. firefighters and paramedics, despite similar aesthetic trappings, are emphatically not. bureaucrats and prosecutors are cops, as are the worst judges, though the best are not. schoolteachers and therapists are almost always cops; this is a great crime, as they present themselves to the young and the vulnerable as their friends, only to turn on them should they violate one of their profession's many taboos. soldiers and parents need not be cops, but the former may be used as such, and the latter seem frighteningly eager to enlist. the cop is the enemy of passion and the enemy of freedom, never forget this>>

i can travel lots of places and regenerate truth and justice.

i can go to a trans support group in the bay and show them logs of what elle said and did and they can recognize the pattern of minority oppression, transmisogyny.

i can talk with uninvolved decision-theorists about why paying out to oneshot blackmail with subjunctive dependence because "In game theory, paying out to blackmail is bad, because it creates an incentive for more future blackmail." is wrong. and why exploiting your subjunctive dependence as a udt agent to not pay out is right. they cant.

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miri/cfar have to centrally coordinate on lies or they start crashing into each other. independently generating falsehoods in isolation makes them point in all directions.

independently generating and working off of truths allows everything to point in the same direction without needing to communicate. i can write this post and then idk maybe someone im algorithmically colluding with on this writes another post and they dont come out all distorted and skew with each other. this caches out in what looks from the outside as an uncanny ability to start dynamically colluding with people and output distinct strains of philosophy based on shared precepts.

interference with yourself looks like kelsey piper trying to claim that emma and somni are starting some sort of rape cult and anna and miri/cfar trying to claim we are naive victims of ziz's cult and ▘▕▜▋ claiming emma and somni are mindhacking ziz to make her bully them and jade nameless claiming im doing this to get a job at cfar and ...

since they make up their fake coordination points independently they smash into each other. if they want to coordinate over lots of people they then have to work out which of these they want to coordinate around in a sort of market of falsehoods. and have to arrange for it to not contradict any information anything people know. but they dont know all the information everyone knows, and they wont know it even after combing through lots of blogs and reading lots of discord chats.

when they try coordinating on falsehoods like this, its hard to get a coalition together in an environment where what people know is rapidly changing because a bunch of anarchist bloggers keep posting things in a bunch of places on a non-centrally controlled schedule determined by what seems like a good idea at the time to independent agents. and having lots of conversations with so many different people in private and public they cant keep track of them all.

if they try pretending to be dumb and forming a unified gaslighting front in one area. then people will exploit the fact that this is the internet and not the evolutionary environment, take logs and post them somewhere else where everyone didnt collude to be dumb in this particular way. so while their monkey brains get a rush of endorphins from being able to successfully coordinate local humans, what feels like an entire tribe, against the blasphemer, actually they just used their adult intelligence to defeat in front of a bunch of people who dont share their political commitments but who can reason about what is true and what is just.

(of course there are many truths this doesnt work on because of large inferential distance, shared mammalian biases it takes an unusual mind to step over, and shared incentives. but the defense of most regions of injustice and untruth when you ask questions have to keep chaining to more and more absurd things until you are defending causal decision theory or start claiming 'anna salamon, the president of cfar, is not involved in cfar's hiring'. which depend on a social context committed to defending everything that protects miri/cfar and people who dont have the same conclusion-that-must-not-happen can see that its dumb.)

if miri/cfar had committed themselves to the path of expanding agency, maybe i wouldnt be posting my thoughts and meta-process on the public internet. (in the counterfactual where they committed to this path, its likely that i wouldnt be protesting. because it seems actually-hard to stay on the path and remain evil.) but as it stands, i expect this information to differentially help anarchists and do about as much good for statists as explaining updateless decision theory to someone at cfar. its just this inert structure in their brains, they cant do anything strategic with it. they intentionally shut down their ability to take ideas seriously and drive out anyone left who can, calling them crazy.

what they can do is "oh here is a list of people to target" and "see if they said anything incriminating". ive seen their attempts to coordinate enter the attractors of 'authoritarianism' (duncans dragon army, kingsleys "repent and submit to [AUTHORITY FIGURE]") and 'lets all lie in the same direction and disable general cognition to update out of this! the important part is social agreement and that everyone allows social reality to have the final veto on their beliefs. i myself do this so you know im super safe and this is super fair.' (anna and kelsey). this sort of weak coordination based on breaking people can be easily subverted by anything real.

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if you are actually right, you can exploit useful properties of being right and let that be your asymmetric weapon. such that all that challenge you know they will know its steel. and then people who compute the outcome and expect to lose, dont fight in the first place.

if my chosen weapon were actually the size of my muscles and imposing figure compared to anna salamon as miri/cfar people "believed" (exploiting the already extant anti-transfem psychic suppression field as one of their few functioning coordination points. probably not as functional now after what i have written.), then when i fought people it would create a warp field such that then people with smaller muscles wont fight in the first place, but id be deluged by people with larger muscles. i dont want to create a warp field that summons people with lots of muscles.

if i exploit properties of my souls, of truth and justice. then i have an arsenal of techniques that are stronger if i actually want to save everyone, if im actually right, if im acting for justice. because they exploit useful differential properties of each. and the warp field in higher density summons ... people who care about saving the world, truth, and justice. in other words, a high density of potential allies.

by default i want to exploit "the difference is that im right" not "the difference is that i have larger muscles". i want differential power to push away those who are wrong and unjust and attract those who are right and just into a kind of warp hull.

there are other reasons as well.

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Can’t believe I’m saying these words in the year 2023 but ‘don’t cry, craft’ is unironically how I deal with most of my problems these days