#and Business Problems with Just One Ancient Solution

[tweedfrog]

Seeing someone u follow for different info reblog a stupid post in an area ur passionate about

[mostlysignssomeportents]

You should be using an RSS reader

On OCTOBER 23 at 7PM, I'll be in DECATUR, GEORGIA, presenting my novel THE BEZZLE at EAGLE EYE BOOKS.

No matter how hard we all wish it were otherwise, the sad fact is that there aren't really individual solutions to systemic problems. For example: your personal diligence in recycling will have no meaningful impact on the climate emergency.

I get it. People write to me all the time, they say, "What can I change about my life to fight enshittification, or, at the very least, to reduce the amount of enshittification that I, personally, experience?"

It's frustrating, but my general answer is, "Join a movement. Get involved with a union, with EFF, with the FSF. Tell your Congressional candidate to defend Lina Khan from billionaire Dem donors who want her fired. Do something systemic."

There's very little you can do as a consumer. You're not going to shop your way out of monopoly capitalism. Now that Amazon has destroyed most of the brick-and-mortar and digital stores out of business, boycotting Amazon often just means doing without. The collective action problem of leaving Twitter or Facebook is so insurmountable that you end up stuck there, with a bunch of people you love and rely on, who all love each other, all hate the platform, but can't agree on a day and time to leave or a destination to leave for and so end up stuck there.

I've been experiencing some challenging stuff in my personal life lately and yesterday, I just found myself unable to deal with my usual podcast fare so I tuned into the videos from the very last XOXO, in search of uplifting fare:

https://www.youtube.com/@xoxofest

I found it. Talks by Dan Olson, Cabel Sasser, Ed Yong and many others, especially Molly White:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MTaeVVAvk-c

Molly's talk was so, so good, but when I got to her call to action, I found myself pulling a bit of a face:

But the platforms do not exist without the people, and there are a lot more of us than there are of them. The platforms have installed themselves in a position of power, but they are also vulnerable…

Are the platforms really that vulnerable? The collective action problem is so hard, the switching costs are so high – maybe the fact that "there's a lot more of us than there are of them" is a bug, not a feature. The more of us there are, the thornier our collective action problem and the higher the switching costs, after all.

And then I had a realization: the conduit through which I experience Molly's excellent work is totally enshittification-proof, and the more I use it, the easier it is for everyone to be less enshittified.

This conduit is anti-lock-in, it works for nearly the whole internet. It is surveillance-resistant, far more accessible than the web or any mobile app interface. It is my secret super-power.

It's RSS.

RSS (one of those ancient internet acronyms with multiple definitions, including, but not limited to, "Really Simple Syndication") is an invisible, automatic way for internet-connected systems to public "feeds." For example, rather than reloading the Wired homepage every day and trying to figure out which stories are new (their layout makes this very hard to do!), you can just sign up for Wired's RSS feed, and use an RSS reader to monitor the site and preview new stories the moment they're published. Wired pushes about 600 words from each article into that feed, stripped of the usual stuff that makes Wired nearly impossible to read: no 20-second delay subscription pop-up, text in a font and size of your choosing. You can follow Wired's feed without any cookies, and Wired gets no information about which of its stories you read. Wired doesn't even get to know that you're monitoring its feed.

I don't mean to pick on Wired here. This goes for every news source I follow – from CNN to the New York Times. But RSS isn't just good for the news! It's good for everything. Your friends' blogs? Every blogging platform emits an RSS feed by default. You can follow every one of them in your reader.

Not just blogs. Do you follow a bunch of substackers or other newsletters? They've all got RSS feeds. You can read those newsletters without ever registering in the analytics of the platforms that host them. The text shows up in black and white (not the sadistic, 8-point, 80% grey-on-white type these things all default to). It is always delivered, without any risk of your email provider misclassifying an update as spam:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/10/10/dead-letters/

Did you know that, by default, your email sends information to mailing list platforms about your reading activity? The platform gets to know if you opened the message, and often how far along you've read in it. On top of that, they get all the private information your browser or app leaks about you, including your location. This is unbelievably gross, and you get to bypass all of it, just by reading in RSS.

Are your friends too pithy for a newsletter, preferring to quip on social media? Unfortunately, it's pretty hard to get an RSS feed from Insta/FB/Twitter, but all those new ones that have popped up? They all have feeds. You can follow any Mastodon account (which means you can follow any Threads account) via RSS. Same for Bluesky. That also goes for older platforms, like Tumblr and Medium. There's RSS for Hacker News, and there's a sub-feed for the comments on every story. You can get RSS feeds for the Fedex, UPS and USPS parcels you're awaiting, too.

Your local politician's website probably has an RSS feed. Ditto your state and national reps. There's an RSS feed for each federal agency (the FCC has a great blog!).

Your RSS reader lets you put all these feeds into folders if you want. You can even create automatic folders, based on keywords, or even things like "infrequently updated sites" (I follow a bunch of people via RSS who only update a couple times per year – cough, Danny O'Brien, cough – and never miss a post).

Your RSS reader doesn't (necessarily) have an algorithm. By default, you'll get everything as it appears, in reverse-chronological order.

Does that remind you of anything? Right: this is how social media used to work, before it was enshittified. You can single-handedly disenshittify your experience of virtually the entire web, just by switching to RSS, traveling back in time to the days when Facebook and Twitter were more interested in showing you the things you asked to see, rather than the ads and boosted content someone else would pay to cram into your eyeballs.

Now, you sign up to so many feeds that you're feeling overwhelmed and you want an algorithm to prioritize posts – or recommend content. Lots of RSS readers have some kind of algorithm and recommendation system (I use News, which offers both, though I don't use them – I like the glorious higgeldy-piggeldy of the undifferentiated firehose feed).

But you control the algorithm, you control the recommendations. And if a new RSS reader pops up with an algorithm you're dying to try, you can export all the feeds you follow with a single click, which will generate an OPML file. Then, with one click, you can import that OPML file into any other RSS reader in existence and all your feeds will be seamlessly migrated there. You can delete your old account, or you can even use different readers for different purposes.

You can access RSS in a browser or in an app on your phone (most RSS readers have an app), and they'll sync up, so a story you mark to read later on your phone will be waiting for you the next time you load up your reader in a browser tab, and you won't see the same stories twice (unless you want to, in which case you can mark them as unread).

RSS basically works like social media should work. Using RSS is a chance to visit a utopian future in which the platforms have no power, and all power is vested in publishers, who get to decide what to publish, and in readers, who have total control over what they read and how, without leaking any personal information through the simple act of reading.

And here's the best part: every time you use RSS, you bring that world closer into being! The collective action problem that the publishers and friends and politicians and businesses you care about is caused by the fact that everyone they want to reach is on a platform, so if they leave the platform, they'll lose that community. But the more people who use RSS to follow them, the less they'll depend on the platform.

Unlike those largely useless, performative boycotts of widely used platforms, switching to RSS doesn't require that you give anything up. Not only does switching to RSS let you continue to follow all the newsletters, webpages and social media accounts you're following now, it makes doing so better: more private, more accessible, and less enshittified.

Switching to RSS lets you experience just the good parts of the enshitternet, but that experience is delivered in manner that the new, good internet we're all dying for.

My own newsletter is delivered in fulltext via RSS. If you're reading this as a Mastodon or Twitter thread, on Tumblr or on Medium, or via email, you can get it by RSS instead:

https://pluralistic.net/feed/

Don't worry about which RSS reader you start with. It literally doesn't matter. Remember, you can switch readers with two clicks and take all the feeds you've subscribed to with you! If you want a recommendation, I have nothing but praise for Newsblur, which I've been paying $2/month for since 2011 (!):

https://newsblur.com/

Subscribing to feeds is super-easy, too: the links for RSS feeds are invisibly embedded in web-pages. Just paste the URL of a web-page into your RSS reader's "add feed" box and it'll automagically figure out where the feed lives and add it to your subscriptions.

It's still true that the new, good internet will require a movement to overcome the collective action problems and the legal barriers to disenshittifying things. Almost nothing you do as an individual is going to make a difference.

But using RSS will! Using RSS to follow the stuff that matters to you will have an immediate, profoundly beneficial impact on your own digital life – and it will appreciably, irreversibly nudge the whole internet towards a better state.

Tor Books as just published two new, free LITTLE BROTHER stories: VIGILANT, about creepy surveillance in distance education; and SPILL, about oil pipelines and indigenous landback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/16/keep-it-really-simple-stupid/#read-receipts-are-you-kidding-me-seriously-fuck-that-noise

[mtchee]

My Chosen Beloved - [Zhongli] GN

blurb:

In ancient Teyvat, you worship your Lord of Geo as much as the next villager. When you hear that you're cursed by something unknown, your fears are only confirmed when you're given to your Archon as a sacrifice to save your village. Only, it turns out you're not quite the sacrifice you thought you were. OH, turns out, you're to be wedded to your Archon. Except, since arriving at his hidden chambers, you've seen neither hide nor hair of him. Only his pet dragon, Morax, lazes about in the mountainscape to accompany you. Welp, new best friend! Even if it is a sassy lizard. What... What do you mean, he is the sassy lizard...

cw: not edited, second-person-pov, kinda chaotic [name], sugestive at the end, arranged (??) marriage trope except he arranged it, Zhongli is a little shit, i think he's slightly OOC im SO sorry, dragonli, young Morax?? but not quite, ancient teyvat au (kind of), swearing, might do a part 2

| masterlist | genshin impact collection |

[4.0k]

"Cursed!?" You cry out in horror, "I'm cursed!?"

"Not cursed, dear one," The sweet old lady hums, swishing around your cup of left over tea leaves, "just marked."

"Oh, oh good," You feign relief, "so I'm a target."

"Oh hush you," The tea reader swats you over the head, "you fret too much. Besides, there's more I've yet to see..."

You grumble to yourself under your breath, rubbing your sore spot with a pout before sitting and waiting for the rest of her verdict. The woman hums lowly, a content smile on her delicate old features as she keeps her eyes trained on the semi-warm yunomi cup in her hands.

"Ooh, would you look at that," She hums happily, "a crescent star--how wonderful. You will have an unusually large fortune happen upon you..." she swishes the cup once more, "and... ah! And these are... indeed! Health and happiness shall befall you! Though beware, a great sacrifice must you omit in your coming days for this to be achieved."

You sigh to yourself quietly, smiling softly with a shake of your head, "Thank you, grandma."

You place a small pouch of coins atop her tattered, velvet cloth table as you move to stand.

"Ah, ah, ah!" She tuts, eyes wide as she stares at your tea leaves, "my child... I see that someone has their eye on you; beware of whom it is that you trust, deary. Not all things are as they seem..."

You feel a shiver crawl up your spine, and you squeak; you feel your soul levitate.

You gain a cold sweat, "T-Thanks, granny..."

"It's no problem, child!" The old lady beams, positively ignorant of your terror, "come back anytime. It's always such a joy to read for you..."

"Aha, yes. I-I'm sure..." You wince, smile strained, "um... goodnight, granny."

"Goodnight, dear one!"

You're quick to leave the quaint tea shop, placid smile immediately dropping into one of panic. Ever since you'd gone up that stupid magical mountain or whatever, you'd felt these odd shivers down your spine, like someone was watching you.

Constantly.

Or, nearly constantly. It usually stopped when you got to your house--at least this stalker had some decency. 

It certainly didn't help that there was an apparent raid being planned on your village, an attack that you'd all been warned about by an anonymous.

It was a curse of sorts, unleashed by an old enemy of your land's beloved Archon, Rex Lapis. The main city of Liyue is only small at this time, and the adepti, each to their own, have additionally been busy with protecting the various other scattered villages around the land.

You were given fourteen days to figure out a solution. 

Now, there's only three left. 

You shudder, once again feeling a pair of eyes glaring into you from archons knows where, and you let out an angsty huff, crossing your arms over yourself. 

"Great," You crinkle your nose, "now I'm even more paranoid." 

"A WHAT!?" 

Ah, what a wonderful start to the morning, with two days left before the presumed attack. 

The whole village gathers with murmurs of concern, pity, and fear.

In seeing no other way to prevent the attack, the town elder had announced a last resort solution, as provided with help from the adepti.

A sacrifice is to be made and sent to the stone mountains where it is told that their Great Lord and his dragon reside. A sacrifice must be made to their Archon in exchange for protection from the oncoming curse.

And with consultation from Adeptis Cloud Retainer and Moon Carver, you were chosen to be the offered one. 

"You want me to be a WHAT!?" Your eyes practically bulge from your head, and a panic rushes through you, thoughts spiralling as your heart tightens painfully in your chest.

Your outburst garnered further chatter from the rest of the town, some shouting their concern for you, others in protest of the decision made--but ultimately, it wasn't up to them.

The adepti themselves had chosen. 

Your ears rang with a high pitch, gaze hazy as you grew dizzy, struggling to breathe.

You couldn't hear what anyone else was saying--and quite frankly, you didn't want to, nor did you care.

A further immense feeling of fright pierced through you, causing your knees to buckle. It was those eyes again. 

'Dear archons,' You thought to yourself fearfully, 'am I going to die?'

The next forty-eight hours went by too fast, consisting of preparation for your departure, where a group of villagers would later escort you to the mountains and present you at its base before returning home.

And where you would be left alone, alongside barrels of fruit and meat offerings, and baskets of their finest silk and gold.

Then, it would be up to their Great Lord to make the decision. 

And so there you had been, fearful and adorned in opaque silks and fine threads, arms and legs decorated with pretty golden jewellery for an extravagent yet elegant appeal.

Your heart stuttered painfully in your chest, breath uncomfortably stuck in your throat as paranoia and terror consume you simultaneously. The feeling of eyes being burnt into your form had never left, and they had never felt so intense until then.

Staring at the mountain base with your back to the open field behind you, you felt your very soul ice over as a dark shadow swallowed you. You hadn't dared to look back, eyes wide with your skin pricked, breath stagnant as your base most instincts went wild; run.

But you felt you were dead before it had even approached.

You don't remember anything from that point on, only recalling a behemoth silhouette drowning yours before everything went silent and dark.

You had fainted.

But freedom! You cry in your mind, finding yourself awake inside a palace worthy bedchamber. You weren't eaten! Yay! CELEBRATE FOOL.

You notice a soft quilt upon you, its fabric smooth to the touch. Your hands tremble ever so slightly, nerves recovering from being shot. You swallow thickly, unsure of what to expect as you observe your surroundings.

The room is heavenly. Much grander than even the nobles in the nearest city, the room is vast and elegant, with artworks and calligraphy engraved into the stone walls. Cor lapis illuminates it all, along with the plentiful golden intricacies.

An elaborate archway to your left is separated from your room by a semi-sheer curtain, and you can hear the ever so soothing tinkling of water. A bathroom.

Placed along that same wall is a beautiful vanity and smaller archway separated similarly to the other. You can spy a more than generous number of hanging fabrics and neat, polished crates--a wardrobe.

The opposite side of the room displays practically half a library. Gorgeous bookshelves line the walls with ornate pillars and decorative foliage, a grand desk situated nearby with an equally as exquisite chair. The floor is covered by a soft carpet, accompanied by various cosy and inhumanely large pillows.

Nevermind, you must have been eaten, because this looks like heaven.

Mouth agape in bewilderment and disbelief, you slowly slip out from beneath the covers, tip toeing along the cool flooring into the middle of the room.

Your eyes graze over everything, and you're tempted to throw yourself indulgently into the giant pile of pillows just begging to be laid on.

Yet you restrain yourself because where the hell are you.

The large door across from you looks promising.

It takes a good hard push from you before it opens, though once it does the doors part for you effortlessly on their own. You pause, peeking out into the hallway skeptically before actually stepping out.

The door shuts quietly by itself one you're out of its way.

Interesting.

The corridor itself is daunting, both in size and extravagence. One side leads to an archway concealed by a thick red curtain, whilst the other reveals an opening into what appears to be a sun room.

Well, that looks promising.

Like everything else, the area is expansive and elegant. Sunlight bathes everything in a soft, golden glow, and water trickles pleasingly from ornate divets in the high stone walls, following a painstakingly carved path down into a rivet in the ground that outlines the floor plan.

Looking up into the high ceiling, your mouth drops in awe at the crystal clear glass encasing. In an octagonal, dome shape, the largest panes showcase stained glass designs, threading rainbow highlights here and there.

Thriving vines decorate the roofs edge, neatly climbing down the walls and curling around the spaced pillars that hold it all together. The plantation has been carefully placed as to not obstuct or corrode the ornate architecture.

In the centre of the room is a mound of silks and pillows with gold trims and intricacies, a large serpentine figure curled atop the delicate fabrics gracefully as it slumbers.

What.

Pause.

A dragon.

A fucking dragon.

Morax, Rex Lapis' dragon.

And you know it's Rex Lapis' dragon because who fucking else would have a dragon.

Your mouth drops in absolute horror at what you've stumbled upon, and you start to backtrack in silent terror when the slumbering creature begins to shuffle.

You internally curse yourself as the thing emits a sleepy grumble that vibrates the floor before locking eyes with you.

It blinks drearily, lazily yawning and smacking its maws before learning towards you with lidded amber eyes and a grounding purr.

You've been frozen in utter fear for the entirety of its slow awakening, and it huffs warm air into your wide eyed face once its levelled with you.

You let out a frightened squeak, blinking rapidly to recover from the assault while the serpentine creature rumbles contently. It looks... entirely unbothered by your presence.

You can't quite tell what it's thinking, its eyes watching you ever so intently, yet with a peculiar fondness that has you puzzled.

"He.. Hello, dragon," Your voice cracks, and you take a hasty bow to make up for it, "uh! Morax. Um, am I... aren't I suppose to be, uh, eaten..?"

Morax blinks at you cluelessly.

"As, uh, in sacrifice?"

The dragon huffs at you again, though this time much more sharply, as though offended. An odd keen gets stuck in its throat as it tilts its head before shaking out its mane.

Then, Morax leans towards you again with a grumbling coo, as though attempting to soothe you before nudging its large muzzle at your chest.

You stumble back from the unexpected contact, but the being only prods at you again until you gently guide its nose away with both hands. It retreats back into the rest of its curled form, watching you expectantly.

You reach a hand to where Morax had been poking, touching the thick cor lapis pendant situated on your chest in the shape of the geo symbol, secured by a deceivingly delicate looking gold chain.

"Oh this?" You look down at it from your awkward angle, "is something wrong with it?"

Morax lets out a curt grumble, not in warning or any form of vexation, but as a sort of prompt. Not quite.

You furrow your brows, "Then... does it mean something?"

Its grumbles again. Closer.

Your mind blanks, and you stare back at the beast that just blinks at you slowly. It makes no more sounds to edge you forwards, nor anymore mortion to aid your thinking. Instead, it watches you patiently, expectantly. Fondly.

"...You wanna... you wanna tell me?"

Your features flatten when the dragon emits an exaggerated yawn, crossing its massive paws and laying its head down upon them.

"Oh, you've got an attitude, you know," You frown at the mythical thing, and it closes its eyes teasingly in cheek.

You look at your pendant again. It had been provided by the Adeptis, and passed onto the village chief for when the chosen had been annouced. Then it was later given to you at the end of all your preparations, and you've been wearing it since.

Funnily enough, your preparations were similar to those of your wedding traditions--the older women fussing over your appearance while the men gathered gold and jewels to toss and offer up in symbolizing a rich, fruitiful future for the beweddeds.

The pendant is a similar heirloom typically passed from the more forthright intended to their beloved, as a way to show both their devotion, and their will to provide and protect.

The heirloom is usually something that represents the family from which it is given, as the receiver takes on their last name.

But your pendant is the geo symbol, your Archon's insignia.

Holy freaking shit you're wearing your Archon's insignia and it's not a vision.

Your stomach drops.

"O-Oh my god!" The pendant drops back into place on your chest, and you stare wide eyed at the serpent that daringly matches your panicked gaze, "I-I'm our Lord's intended!?"

"You're my one true friend Morax. But don't tell anyone I said that, that's kinda sad."

You distractedly scrub the dragon's scales by his neck, having moved on from his claws. You're dressed in thin bathing silks that cling to your figure from the water, parts of the fabric sheer upon your skin. You're not bothered though, it's only you and the dragon in this huge manor.

For the week or so that you've spent here, you've seen neither hide nor hair of your dear Archon. One part of you is curious as to why, seeing as this is his abode, though the other shudders at the prospect of running into him in person. You're still not mentally prepared for that.

You don't know how to talk to a god! Let alone how to your god--and that's not even mentioning the fact that you're technically supposed to be married to him.

Yeah. You've figured it out now.

No, you had not been sentenced to your death. No pain or any form of violence has been inflicted since your arrival, unless you want to count the dragon tormenting you with the fluff of its tail.

Stupid dragon.

Speaking of the damned creature, you've taken solace in its company. Although non-human, the dragon is a sentient being of its own, and though large and very much built for battle, Morax has been nothing but patient and gentle.

Ever so aware of your smaller being, the dragon has been careful with its every motion, bending its languid body elegently and fluidly to accomidate you. Even in a playful mood, Morax takes great care not to jostle you or startle you so.

You've claimed the overgrown reptile as your best friend in claws!

Morax had preened at the proclamation.

"Has our Lord been taking care of you? I haven't seen him once since I've been here. Do you think I've scared him off?" You snicker, wringing out the soaked cloth in the floral water you're seeping in, "ah, yes. As I am everything he should fear in a spouse. A merciless tongue and a non-existent sleep schedule."

In the furthest depths of this absolutely insanely huge manor, palace or whatever, is an opening in what you presume to be the back of the mountain.

Walls opening into a magnificent waterscape with a lazy lake and picturesque waterfalls, vines and flowers and brush decorating the scene with giant trees overshading parts of the water.

Morax snorts at your accusations, nostrils puffing non-aggravated smoke.

You move on to delicately rinsing the dragon's mane in parts, fingers sifting through the long, smooth fur to untangle any knots.

"Is he kind?"

From its once sleep tempted state, the beast perks up, opening its eyes to gaze at you. Sensing Morax's confusion, you give a tender smile while you brush a hand through its mane and over its scales.

"My betrothed, our Lord," The dragon croons softly, leaning its massive head down to rest its chin on your lap as you chuckle bashfully, "only you and the adepti know what he's really like. When he's not attending his duties, I mean."

You swallow thickly, worry glazing your eyes before being swiftly masked by a ginger smile as Moraz nudges you.

"I just... to be wedded to our Lord is just a fantasy. Who could I ever amass to in comparison to our Archon? I... don't think he will be cruel. But," Your eyes flutter to the side unsurely, "I don't want to live a lie."

Your heart pangs in your chest, and you slow in your movements which begin to cease. The water ripples around you at each notion, the air still and serene. Yet, despite the peace, you feel burdened.

No, not burdened.

Your brows crease in thought.

Perhaps dejected.

Although you have yet to meet, you've been provided with an abundance of wealth. It's evident your Lord is the spoiling type.

Your room is just one example, full of things you love and could lose yourself in for hours, alongside a wardrobe full of clothes you could only ever have previously dreamed of.

And you have the entire mountain to explore to entertain yourself--and it's not as though you were trapped.

You've gone flying with Morax twice now, and further explored the wilderness surrounding with the dragon's protective supervision. If you so truly wished, you could leave these hidden chambers to go elsewhere. To be honest though, you don't trust yourself to be able to find your way back.

The food is plentiful. Visiting the kitchens each morning and night, you find a feast is laden. And during the mid-day when you're hungry, or the late hours when you're peckish, the pantries are stocked in abundance.

A warm breeze caresses your shoulders, and the sound of the water trinkling melodically echoes a tranquil tune.

Morax purrs at you, and your smile saddens as you speak a dismal truth, "I will forever worship our Lord, not just for what he has provided me, but for him in all his existence. Though I admit, my heart will carry the dual burden of heartache."

The dragon blinks at you slowly, before reeling back in all its grace with a low croon. Its eyes are lidded, looking down at you in fondness and something else you can't quite place.

You puff a breathy laugh, reaching up a hand to cup the scales on its cheek. Despite the comically drastic size difference, the mystic being leans into your touch with a rumble.

"Thank you, Morax," You murmur, awed, "but I could ask nothing more from our dearest Archon who has given so much already. I only pray that someday he will find the one with whom he can truly return their affections."

A disgruntled huff escapes from the amber dragon's maw, and it shakes its head before leaning down to carefully press its horned head against yours.

A smile traces your lips, sincere gratitude oozing from your being as your eyes slip shut, nuzzling back against the smooth and damp scales of your mythical friend.

Another kind brush of air kisses your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. From behind your eyelids, a bright flash of light is muted, though you pass it off as naught.

Suddenly though, the scales you had cupped fit much better in your palm, a sensation much softer gracing your fingertips. Your brows furrow slightly as you feel the weight of the dragon's physical presence decrease. The water around you ripples greatly, though the atmosphere itself remains undisturbed.

The winds swoop gracefully as always, musical water cascades still singing their dream inducing tinkles while the scent of the surrounding natural flora soothes you.

You hear a gentle rumble, though much softer than the dragon before you. Your eyes gradually open, slinking up to lock onto the ethereal man leant into your loving caress.

Your gaze drifts to his nose, and then his lips, observing his attire that consists of layers of intricate brown and golden silks that float atop the water's surface.

And then you gasp, meeting eternally wise amber orbs that stare into yours knowingly.

Your muscles tense and your stomach drops, and you stumble back, almost tripping in the water.

At your sudden lurch in movement, the devastatingly handsome man fixes his arms around you, a gavelly chuckle sending a flush of heat to the tips of your ears as he pulls you flush against him.

"Y-You! I--" Embarrassment in all its forms overwhelms you while your beloved Lord himself stares down at you with lidded eyes, exuding elegance and unwavering strength just as he stands.

You don't dare look him in the eye, gaze latched shamefully onto the intricate details laced on the garment covering his chest. Your shame only increases once you notice the opening in the fabric that reveals part of his chest.

"M-My Lord..!"

Humiliation causes tears to prick at your eyes painfully.

But the dragon--his dragon, he is the dragon!

Heavens above, how utterly foolish could you be!?

Weeks you have spent confiding and bumbling about with that damned beast had you spilling the deepest depths of your heart and innermost being.

You would have never behaved in such a trecherous manner had you known it was your Lord! How disgusted he must be with you. How offended he must feel for the ignorant things you have speeled!

You clench your eyes shut, almost trembling in his grasp.

"My.. My most sincerest apologies, Lord Rex Lapis. I-I must avow that for each word I have spoken I never did intend-"

"Whatever do you mean, my love?" His voice is warm and low, a pleasant gravel that slinks into your ears like honey.

Rex Lapis--Morax, your very Archon who is one in the same, pulls himself back to admire you with fond eyes. Though his gaze is ever intense, the emotion he expresses is more than palpable.

His touch is tender, careful but full of longing, "Perish such nonsense from your mind. I, apologise, dear one," He leans down hopefully to meet your gaze, "for startling you so. And for withholding my true self for so long."

You flutter your eyes open, swallowing shakily when he smiles at you oh so adoringly.

"To be honest, I was... nervous. Unsure as to how you would perceive me."

"You? Nervous?" You incredulous tone has him breathe out a laugh.

"Indeed, dearest," You flush at the endearment, able to process it past your panic this time, "it is not everyday you are intended to a God. Now though, I see I should have been the one to welcome you first and foremost."

In contrast to his gentle touches and patient tone, a familiar cheeky twinkle sparkles in his eyes, "To think you thought you were a meat offering."

You blink up at him, horridly aghast at the mention of your initial misgrievances.

Forgetting your prior reservations about him as your Lord, no longer heeding your behaviour to such, you recognise that mischevious glint just as on the first day you had arrived.

A sense of relief floods your being, and you gradually untense in his tender grasp.

Though you're still unwilling to let him off unscathed.

"Who's the one who had me snatched up on such short notice?"

A sense of sheepishness has him ducking his head in self awareness, nodding acceptingly and in apology. A pink tint lines his fair cheeks at that.

But then he glances down at your drenched attire, and his flush deepens as a desire much too long forgone has him turning up his cheek a little more than he normally would.

"Well," He clears his throat distractedly, "who wouldn't at such a delightful temptation, hm?"

And then it's your turn to feel flushed.

Although he had left you lonesome in you first few weeks of stay, he more than made up for it in the coming nights.

And in response to your apprehensions and concern in being wedded to a God, he addressed them directly by providing you with an adoring reverence than even celestia would envy.

And he continued to do so, for the many years that would come.

For he had chosen you; his one and true beloved.

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

Astarion Very Happy Ending, Part 2

Hey y'all, so I did a part two of this because I love happy, insanely, fluffy romantic endings. So I'm going hard here. There will be one more part!

Also, don't judge my Gale x Shadowheart bs here 💀💀 Long story short, first playthrough that was abanadoned, I picked her orgin and did get sweeped up by the mage man. It has not left my brain since.

Also, this has a time skip! A pretty long one too (10 years)

~

Astarion had been having… thoughts lately. Ideas that he couldn’t quite shake. Nothing bad, no. There really wasn’t much to complain about in his life, not anymore. Not when he could walk in the sun freely, unburdened by parasites and his own vampiric nature. The two of you were free to explore the world with no shackles, not including your religious zealotry. And ironically enough, his own. 

Astarion would never have guessed that he’d ever become a Selune convert. Well… even now convert may have been to strong of a word. Yes, he was immensely appreciative for the whole sun immunity blessing and he did have a newfound respect for the work of her worshippers. But Astarion wasn’t exactly looking for a deity, or anyone, to be subservient to. Not again. No, he’d much rather watch his love do the dirty work for his savior than fully commit himself. Besides, just because he wasn’t devoted to Selune didn’t mean he wasn’t devoted to you. Which might as well have been the same thing. 

Astarion loved you, adored you really, but gods could you be nonsensical at times. He was so happy the two of you had met because someone had to keep this idiotic fanatic alive. Someone to remind you that no darling, not everyone is redeemable. Please put the goblin down.

But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy being your protector. It was the least that he could do considering everything you’d done for him. And he just… liked having a valid excuse to accompany you everywhere. Astarion had never imagined himself to be such a clingy lover, but here he was. The two of you had been attached at the hip for nearly a decade now, with no end in sight. You had built a life together, had friends together, adventures and celebrations that filled his days with endless excitement and amusements.

That is one thing Astarion had to give Selune and her worshippers, they didn’t exactly lead boring lives. Though he supposed half of that had to with just how involved the opposition was. The two of you had slaughtered enough acolytes of Shar over the years for him to know just how covert they really could be. But it wasn’t just bloodsport that made things interesting, though it certainly did help. The exploring for ancient artifacts definitely helped to fill the time, as well as the constant search to find a cure for the rest of his unholy symptoms. 

As great as being in the sun was, Astarion wasn’t quite satisfied with that being the end. It was almost certainly impossible to find a full on cure to being a vampire spawn but… that wasn’t stopping either of you from looking for it. It was morbid, but Astarion wanted his life to have an ending. A natural one like what he hoped for you, not one where he was doomed to immortality and bloodlust until the end of time. 

Thank the gods that he had managed to fall in love with an elf. It at least gave him centuries instead of decades to figure out a solution to an eternal problem. Which brought him back to his current problem. Because the two of you had many, many years ahead. And as far as Astarion was aware you both planned on spending them with each other. Which implied… certain things.

Astarion had never been someone to fantasize about marriage. He had no reason to, not when he had been too busy barely surviving. Even when things became serious between the two of you it hadn’t been on his mind. He was much more concerned with keeping you at all instead of keeping you forever. 

But that had changed recently. Maybe it was because he had seen you officiate countless weddings over the years; young couples always clamoring at a chance to get a newlywed Selune blessing. Or maybe it was how others took note of the lack of a ring on his finger, taking it as an opportunity for unwanted flirtation. But either way, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Obsessing about it really, as he was want to do when it came to you.

He just… didn’t exactly know how to broach the subject. What was the reason? A silly little ceremony and a ring had no bearing on the depth of your relationship. He knew that. The two of you were bound to each other by choice, a love that felt as though it got stronger every day. But… it would be nice to have you in such a way. For the world to be aware of the seriousness of what you had together, shown simply through a pair of rings. And the thought of calling you his wife was quite enticing. 

He wasn’t quite sure why he was so hesitant to bring it up to you. Well… there was the slight delusional thought in his head that reminding you of forever could possible wake you up into realizing just how much better you could do than him. It wasn’t true, he was aware. But gods, your relationship had lasted a damn decade. When was he going to start feeling secure about all of this? 

It didn’t help when Gale of all people beat him to the punch. He and Shadowheart had developed quite the bond since your tadpole days. And your excitement over the announcement was adorable. Adorable enough for him to wonder just how you would react to it happening to you.

But he shoved his worries to the back of his mind, too busy being dragged all the way to Waterdeep for the week-long nuptials. You were highly involved in the wedding, which wasn’t exactly a shock. Shadowheart had stayed your best, most appreciated friend throughout the years, the two of you eternally tied through your shared goddess alone. You wrote to each other constantly and this was far from the first time you had dragged him across the realm for a visit. 

But this was probably the best time. He had to give the people of Waterdeep this, they knew how to celebrate. He wasn’t one to complain over a week filled of music, dance, and drink. The ceremony had been nice as well. Heart-warming even to watch Shadowheart walk down the aisle, smiling in a way she never could when she was devoted to Shar. With Gale sniveling at the other end and you officiating of course. 

The jealousy had been an unexpected touch. He couldn’t help but wonder what you would look like in her place. Dressed in white and silver, walking towards him with eternity in mind. 

It certainly wasn’t helping his dilemma, he could tell you that much. He was still thinking about it when they made it to the reception. It was impossible to bury thoughts of marriage when you were at a wedding. Would you want a large celebration like this? Or something more small and intimate? Hells, the two of you and a cleric in the middle of the woods would suffice to him. 

“To think, Astarion Ancunín at my wedding in the sunlight,” Gale laughed as he plopped down in the seat next to him, effectively putting an end to his internal fretting, “Who would have ever imagined?”

“Certainly not me,” Astarion scoffed with the slightest hint of a smile, “But I suppose things change.”

“I suppose they do,” Gale agreed, his eyes scanning the dancefloor for his new bride. There she was, dancing and giggling with you in the middle of ballroom,  “I just never expected it to be for the better.”

“It is a wonder that we’re all still alive,” Astarion agreed, smiling to himself when Shadowheart dipped you as you laughed hysterically, nearly falling over herself in the process, “Let alone being able to find love. Who would have thought the worshiper of the goddess of the dark would end up here.”

“Turns out she was hiding quite the personality behind the Shar mask,” Gale laughed, “Though I suppose we have Tav to thank for that. It was a real fight on who would have her as their best woman. A fight we both obviously lost. Though officiating seemed a good compromise.”

“She certainly has the experience,” Astarion sighed, “But I have a feeling this one will be her favorite. She’s happy for you two. We both are.”

“I’m happy for you too you know,” Gale added with a small smile, “I always thought the two of you would work out. I even made a killing in the pool we had going on for it.”

Astarion stared at him, brow raised, “You had a pool?”

“Oh absolutely,” Gale confirmed, completely shameless as he listed out the rules, “It got quite competitive after awhile. First, it was all about if you’d ever realize your feelings for her. Then when you went and did that we were betting on how long you’d both last before you left. And then when that didn’t happen, well. Let’s just say I got a few platinums richer.”

Astarion rolled his eyes at the news, barely even surprised, “I feel as though I’ve earned a cut of that.”

“Unfortunately it’s now our honeymoon fund. But I’ll owe you one.”

That was another aspect of this whole debacle that Astarion hadn’t even thought about. But gods, did it sound nice. Whole weeks dedicated strictly to the two of you. No religious duties or adventures to worry about, just… them. 

The joy of the thought must have shown on his face, because the next thing he knew Gale was looking him up and down, a small smirk on his lips, “What’cha thinking about over there?”

“That this wine is mediocre at best,” Astarion lied, avoid Gale’s eyes, “Tell me you at least got a good deal on it?”

But Gale wasn’t taking the bait. He was still watching him like a hawk. That was the problem with getting closer to people, and having, gods friends. 

You had to deal with the discomfort of being read like a book, “Does our little Astarion want to be wed?”

Astarion flinched at the accuracy, taking the time to shoot him a glare as he avoided the question, “I am nearly three centuries older than you.”

“Perhaps, but we both know two of them don’t count,” Gale said, barely missing a beat, “So tell me, do you already have a ring picked out?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I can help you pick one you know, there are many fantastic jewelers in Waterdeep. I believe she has the same ring size as Shadowheart, we can bring her along.”

Astarion rolled his eyes, ignoring the small blush creeping up his neck, “I want you to know that if this wasn’t your wedding day I would have slapped you by now. Consider my reluctance as your wedding present.”

“How generous of you,” Gale chuckled. But then he started to speak quieter, his voice taking on a more gentle and serious tone, “She would say yes you know. You’ve had her wrapped around your finger since the day you held that dagger to her throat.”

That was an exaggeration, but Astarion would be lying if he said the mention didn’t make him preen the slightest bit, “You forget that I did have competition.”

“Oh, barely,” Gale laughed, “You don’t get to reminisce of what could have been when you won. Gods, no one had any chance against you. And trust me, we tried.”

Astarion blinked at him, more than a little surprised, “You did?”

“Of course we did. We all did. What do you think Shadow and I bonded over? But the pining stopped eventually. Then it became…something more. Something deeper. She’s… a magnificent woman, my little shadow. Who has gone through too much…” Gale trailed off, his eyes still following his bride as he softly smiled,  “Suffice to say, neither of us are pining anymore. And I’m sure Shadow would love nothing more than to help plan her dearest friend’s nuptials.”

“Who ever said that you two would be involved?” Astarion scoffed, just to be an ass, “For all you know we’ll elope in Neverwinter.”

But Astarion’s grip backfired, if the smile on Gale’s face meant anything, “So that means you are going to propose?”

Oh for fucks sake. Astarion glared at him for the accuracy, at a loss for words. Besides it… it was true. Of course he was going to ask, where else would this fanatic line of thinking end? He just hadn’t expected Gale of all people to be the one to force him to admit it. 

“I-yes,” Astarion sighed, finally giving in, “Are you happy now? Yes, I’m going to.”

“Extremely,” Gale grinned, “Because you just won me another three hundred gold.”

[evilminji]

The Anti-Ecto Acts... could literally start WW3

I am sitting here, contemplating China. The country. Literally one of THE OLDEST countries. With a truely massive population. And... I will admit my ignorance. But from what I have heard? They are big on honoring the Dead.

Their Dead.

The Dead of China. Hundreds of millions of souls. Which, statistically, would mean the average human ghost has a good chance to come from the region. And they are not alone.

Again, my ignorance curses me, but if my general knowledge is to be believed? It is a common practice in Asianic Countries. Oh sure, they won't argue there might be BAD ghosts. But that's to be expected! There are bad PEOPLE! They die.

They have monks and priests for such things. Specialists. Ancient problem, tried and true solutions. They move on and have lunch, consider what options there are for dinner. Business of the day and all that.

But THEN.

Fanatics from the West. Painting themselves as Men Of Science, not only dare to play god, but tear open a hole to THE AFTERLIFE? And start ATTACKING indiscriminately? They stand before an international stage and spew clearly bigoted pseudoscience, to justify their genocide, while ALSO letting God's and demons run roughshod over the WORLD, just so they can try to convince everyone they have the right to MURDER YOUR ANCESTORS?

They OPENED THAT GATE! They LET THEM OUT! There is a difference, culturally, for many of your countries between the soul of a dead man (powers be damned) and a SPIRIT OF LIVING STORMS.

You are not IDIOTS. Tigers are dangerous. Wolves are dangerous. But someone walking into a crowded mall and releasing frightened wild animals DOES NOT mean we go into the wilds and start killing! We charge the madmen you attacked innocent people!

The fact that tigers and wolves are dangerous IS NOT NEW. The fact that the souls of the dead are dangerous is ALSO not new! It is not malicious. It is INHERENT. A state of being. That is why they are not encouraged to linger! We love them, but this world is not built for them. It is fragile and barren, built for the living.

But dear sweet FUCK, the WROTH.

How? Many countries EXACTLY. How many religions? SPECIFICALLY honor and protect the dead. Declare in no uncertain terms, the SANCTITY of the soul?

How many people have LOST somebody? A friend, a lover, a CHILD.

And in one breath you give them hope then THREATEN it? "They may still be out there... we are going to brutally torture them to death. Because your loved ones are animals to us."

The UN would have the SINGLE most ugly, barely contained, riot imaginable. Spiritual Leaders would be tearing CHUNKS out of the US. The Pope, the Dalai Lama, you name it. You can NOT invade THE AFTERLIFE and not have it IMMEDIATELY become a religious concern.

Not to mention the international SAFETY concern. One countries actions? Unleashing beings that can effect the GLOBAL ECOSYSTEM? The ENTIRE planets weather? Plunged EVERYONE into Eternal Sleep??! How can that not be considered DILBERATE after the first one!

Your grand idea is to ANTAGONIZE them? Make MORE of them come through??

"Kill death itself". You fanatical NUTJOBS! That's not even a NEW hypothetical! That ends HORRIFICLY for literally EVERYONE. Eternal starvation, suffocation, crushing, and worse! We suck the planet dry, over populate so horrifically we end up BURIED UNDER OUR OWN CHILDREN, and suffer FOREVER without the release of death!

You fucking MORONS! Eternal life is a well known CURSE!

Their science is shaky at best, hardly peer reviewed. DEEPLY unethical. And clearly dangerous! Radioactive!!! In a population center?! How many innocent people have been exposed!?

And if the Ghost are reaching OUT? Imagine meeting long dead countrymen, who come to you fearing for their very SOULS. Who have lived in peace. Unknown to you, for CENTURIES. Who beg you, in YOUR native tounge, to help. Talks of people disappearing. Fear and desperation.

This is not to say world leaders are great and benevolent figures, free of greed or sin. Nor their governments. But it is quite another thing entirely, when they talk... and all you can think is "you are talking about my dead father. My late wife. My deceased son."

When they spew their HATE. And back hand your loved ones by doing so.

What powerful person has not lost SOMEBODY.

All this? And I have not even TOUCHED on the shit storm DC would add on top. The Drama? The IMMEDIATE near certain SMITING? You want to MURDER Superman's FAMILY??? I'd say pick a god and pray, but you've already made enemy of ALL of them.

So... good luck and get fucked?

@hdgnj @the-witchhunter @stealingyourbones @nerdpoe

[fafnir19]

A child is born

The night air was crisp as Colin and Julia Copman, a wealthy and influential couple, stood in their lavish mansion, their eyes gleaming with anticipation. The full moon illuminated the ancient spell book that lay open on the altar before them, its pages yellowed with age.

They had sought this moment for years. Julia, with her warm smile and gentle eyes, longed for a child to complete their family, but her body had other plans. Colin, determined to fulfill his wife's wish, scoured the earth for a solution. His relentless search led him to an ancient tome, promising to hold the key to their problem. On Halloween, in a clandestine ceremony, they gathered the peculiar ingredients. Julia's delicate hands held a small vial containing her blood, a contribution from the heart of the family. Colin, with his sharp features and determined gaze, provided his seed, a symbol of his ambition. To this mixture, they added peculiar elements: the spit of a renowned musical actor, ensuring their child's voice would captivate all who heard it; fingernails from a business tycoon, infusing the child with strategic acumen; and pubic hairs from a celebrated athlete, granting virility and strength. As the final ingredients were gathered, they turned their attention to the centerpiece of the ritual—a pristine white silk blanket. This fabric, soon to be the cradle of their creation, was laid upon the bed, its softness a stark contrast to the dark magic about to unfold. With trembling hands, they poured the concoction onto the silk, watching as it absorbed the essence of their desires. The once-white blanket slowly transformed, its color shifting to a deep, menacing black, mirroring the night sky. The room fell silent, the only sound the steady ticking of the clock, counting down to the birth of their creation. At the stroke of midnight, the blanket stirred. A ripple ran through the fabric, as if something were moving beneath it.

The Copmans held their breath, their eyes fixed on the growing lump. Then, with a final dramatic flourish, a young man emerged, sitting up and shaking off the silk like a newborn awakening from a deep slumber. Curly blond hair framed his face, and his shaved sides added a modern edge to his classic beauty. "Cohen," Julia whispered, her voice filled with awe and relief. Cohen's arrival was met with awe and adoration. He possessed an otherworldly charm that captivated everyone he encountered. Teachers, parents, and peers alike found themselves under his spell, their wills bending to his every word. His physical perfection was matched only by his intellect, making him the ultimate creation, tailored to dominate and succeed in every aspect of life. But beneath the flawless exterior, a dark purpose lurked.

At college, Cohen's path collided with Logan, the son of Jack, a tenant in one of the Copman's many properties. Logan, an average student, found himself both jeoulus and also repelled by Cohen. While Cohen exuded confidence, Logan struggled to find his place, often joining his father's protests against the Copman's gentrification plans.

"You know, Logan," Cohen purred during one of their sociology courses, "you have potential. With a little effort, you could be extraordinary." Logan scoffed, his eyes narrowing. "I don't need your fake compliments, Cohen. I know you're just trying to butter me up." Cohen's smile never wavered. "Jealousy doesn't suit you, my friend. Embrace your potential, and you might just find yourself on the winning side."

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the dilapidated streets of their neighborhood. Jack stood at the front of a small gathering of protestors, their signs held high: “Save Our Homes!” and “No Gentrification!” He was the epitome of an old-school hippy, his spirit defiantly resisting the encroaching corporate world. The air was thick with the scent of autumn leaves and the determination of his fellow tenants. Jack’s long hair billowed in the chill breeze as he raised his voice, “We won’t let the Copmans erase our community for their profit!” “Yeah!” a voice shouted from the crowd. “Fight for our homes!”

When Jack came home Logan, his son, slumped on the worn couch in their small apartment, staring at the flickering light of the TV.

Jack leaned against the peeling paint of the apartment wall, the scent of damp and desperation clinging to him like a second skin. Outside, the city buzzed with the sounds of life—a siren wailing in the distance, the thud of boots on pavement, the distant laughter of college students. He rubbed his temples, the weight of the protest pressing heavily on his shoulders. “Dad, you really think this is going to change anything?” Logan asked, his voice a mixture of skepticism and resignation. “It has to, Logan. They can’t just bulldoze over our lives for a shiny new façade.” Jack’s voice was strained, tinged with the urgency of a man who had fought too long and too hard. Jack clenched his fists, his long hair falling into his eyes. “You’re going to have to work with Cohen on this college project. Use it to get information.” Logan grimaced, scrunching his face in distaste, “Ugh, Cohen? He’s the worst! He’s got that smug smile like he’s better than everyone else.” Jack sighed, his eyes narrowing. “Listen, son, he’s a tool, but you might find a way to use him. Charm and flatter him and you can gather intel on their plans.” Logan rolled his eyes, frustration boiling over. “And become his little puppet? No thanks. He’s insufferable!” “Cohen’s not just some rich kid; he’s a threat. We need to know what they’re planning.” Jack’s voice softened, knowing this was more than just a college project. ““Just try to be civil, you can do this, Logan. I believe in you…. and if he has a weakness, find it. We need every advantage we can get! ” “Fine.” Logan groaned, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. “But if he starts talking about his fancy yacht or his stupid ties, I’m out.” Jack chuckled. “You’ll survive. Just remember, you’re the smart one here.”

The Copman mansion loomed before Logan like a dark thundercloud, its grandeur suffocating. As he stepped inside, the chill of the marble floors sent a shiver up his spine. Cohen was already there, lounging on a plush sofa, flipping through a textbook as though it were a mere magazine.

“Hey, Logan!” Cohen’s voice was smooth, almost syrupy. “Glad you could make it. We’re going to crush this project.” Logan forced a smile, feeling the weight of disdain settle in his stomach. “Let’s just get it over with.” “Come on, lighten up! You’re too smart to be so serious all the time,” Cohen said, a hint of mockery in his tone. “With a little effort, you could be quite the catch, you know?” “Yeah, right,” Logan shot back, crossing his arms. “I’d rather not be a puppet.” Cohen’s laughter echoed through the opulent room, a sound that felt foreign against the backdrop of Logan’s frustration. “Puppet? Nah, more like... a partner. Don’t you want to make a difference?” Logan rolled his eyes, but the unease in his gut only intensified. “Not with you.” “Why not?” Cohen leaned closer, a sly grin playing at the corners of his mouth. “I can help you find your voice. You just need to embrace what you’ve got.” Logan swallowed hard, feeling trapped in the thick web of Cohen’s charm. “I’m not your project, Cohen. I’m not here to be your sycophant.” Cohen’s smirk widened, revealing a hint of something darker. “Oh, I think you’ll find you’re more useful to me than you realize.” Logan shivered, an inexplicable chill creeping down his spine. He pushed the feeling aside, determined to keep his guard up. “Let’s just get this over with.” As they began their work, the air grew thick with tension and the stakes were rising higher.

The day dragged on, and as the sun began to set, Logan felt a sense of relief as they called it a day. He followed Cohen up a grand staircase to a luxurious guest room, complete with a king-sized bed adorned with white silk sheets and a black silk blanket. "I trust you'll be comfortable here," Cohen said, his voice smooth. "We'll start fresh in the morning." Logan nodded, grateful to be alone. He changed into his white pajamas and slid into the bed, the pillows enveloping him in comfort.

The next morning, the sun had barely crept over the horizon, casting a soft glow into the luxurious bedroom. Logan, still groggy from his restful sleep, stirred in the plush bed, his senses slowly awakening.

But as he moved, he felt something unusual—a sensation that made him snap into full alertness. The black blanket, once a comforting weight on his body, now seemed alive. It slithered, almost like a serpent, across his limbs, its dark fabric contrasting sharply with the white sheets and pillows. Logan's eyes widened as he watched, mesmerized and terrified, as the blanket enveloped him. It flowed over his body, transforming every piece of fabric it touched into the same lustrous black silk. The once-white pajamas he wore now matched the blanket's hue, hugging his frame as if tailored just for him. Panic seized him, and he struggled to free himself, his fingers frantically tugging at the silk pajama top. It clung stubbornly, as if reluctant to let him go, but with a final, desperate yank, he managed to tear it off, gasping for breath. He sank back into the pillows, his chest heaving, and stared down at his body. His breath caught in his throat as he noticed the changes. His stomach, once soft and unremarkable, now boasted a defined six-pack, and his entire physique had transformed into that of a Greek god.

Logan's fingers traced the contours of his new body, a mix of astonishment and pleasure washing over him. As he lay there, reveling in this unexpected metamorphosis, he felt a stirring below. His cock twitched, awakening to the soft caress of the silk. The sensation was electric, and he watched, his smirk growing wider, as his cock rose to attention, straining against the confines of his black silk pajama pants. It was as if his body had been reborn, and with it, a newfound confidence. *What a great cock... it's magnificent!* The thought echoed in his mind, and he couldn't help but agree. Such arrogance was unfamiliar to him, but it felt right, as if he had always been meant to be this way. He imagined the reaction of his peers, the envy in their eyes as they beheld his new physique and the bulge in his pants. *They'll all want me,* he thought, *chicks and guys alike.*

The bedroom door creaked open, interrupting Logan's musings. Cohen, his project partner and host, stood in the doorway, clad only in tight black silk shorts, his expression a mix of satisfaction and hunger. He took in the sight of Logan, sprawled on the bed, his legs spread, and the bulge in his pants evident. Cohen's lips curved into a smile, his plan unfolding perfectly. He approached the bed, his bare feet silent on the plush carpet. Without a word, he perched on the edge of the mattress, his hand reaching out to gently stroke Logan's hardening cock. The touch was electric, and Logan, who would have normally recoiled from such an advance, found himself relaxing into the sensation. Cohen's fingers, skilled and confident, began to work their magic, stroking and teasing, and Logan's body responded, his cock throbbing with need. The sensation of the silk against his hardening cock only added to the pleasure, and he watched with a newfound arrogance as Cohen stroked him with skilled hands. "Mmm..." Logan moaned softly, his eyes half-lidded as pleasure coursed through him.

Cohen's touch was electric, and Logan's thoughts were no longer his own. The values and beliefs he once held dear began to fade and the Copman family's desires and ambitions seeped into his mind, erasing his past life and replacing it with a new identity. Cohen's fingers worked their mastery, and Logan's body arched, his back pressing into the silk sheets. The room echoed with the sound of skin on silk, the rustle a sensual accompaniment to the dark ritual. "Yes... Oh, yes!" Logan's voice, now deeper and laced with confidence, filled the room. His breath came in short gasps, and his heart raced as the pleasure built. Cohen's plan was working; Logan's essence was being reshaped, his DNA rewritten with the Copman lineage. As Logan's climax neared, Cohen whispered, his breath hot against Logan's ear, "Soon, you will be reborn - as Logan Copman." "Ahh...!" Logan's cry of release was loud, his body convulsing as he shot his load into the silk. The sensation was intense, and for a moment, he felt a strange detachment, as if he were witnessing someone else's pleasure. The old Logan, his DNA, and his very soul were now just a cum spot  on the lustrious silk pajama pants and replaced by the Copman's linage. His once modest nature and humble background, was fading away. "Oh, fuck..." Logan panted, his eyes still closed, savoring the aftermath of his orgasm. Cohen's satisfied grin widened as he watched Logan's transformation. "Perfect," he murmured. "Just as planned." The black silk, as if sensing its master's desires, flowed around Logan's body, shaping itself into a stylish black suit, complete with a crisp white shirt and a black silk tie.

"Welcome, Logan Copman," Cohen said, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "Are you ready to embrace your destiny as the heir?" Logan turned, his eyes narrowing slightly at the mention of his name. "I've always been Logan Copman. Heir to the Copman empire. Why do you speak as if I'm new to this role?" His voice carried an air of arrogance, a trait he had never possessed before. Cohen's grin widened, his eyes gleaming with a sinister light. Logan sat up, the black silk suit now fully formed, hugging his new muscular frame. The transformation was complete, and the old Logan was a distant memory, replaced by the arrogance and entitlement of the Copman family. "Of course, my dear boy," Cohen replied, his tone soothing. "You've always been destined for greatness. And now, it's time to claim your birthright." Logan stood, his movements graceful and confident. He adjusted himself in the tight silk pants, his cock now a source of pride and power. "I'm ready," he declared, his voice carrying an air of command. "Let's go, Cohen. I have a family business to attend to."

As Logan strode out of the room, his footsteps echoing on the marble floor, Colin Copman entered, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. Cohen approached him, bowing slightly. "Master Copman," he said, his voice filled with respect. "I have succeeded in my task. The final ingredient, a living boy, has been offered, and your heir is born." Colin's eyes narrowed, a mix of curiosity and satisfaction playing across his face. "You sacrificed the son of Jack, our tenant?" Cohen's grin widened, revealing a hint of sharp fangs. "Yes, and what a perfect choice he was.“ Colin's eyes widened slightly at the revelation. "And the boy, Logan, he is...?" "No more," Cohen replied, a sinister edge to his voice. " His essence has been completely overwritten. He is Logan Copman, through and through. The old Logan is nothing but a distant memory, a speck of dust in the wind.” Colin's laughter filled the corridor, a chilling sound that spoke of his malicious delight. "Excellent! I must admit, I'm pleased it was him. His father has been a thorn in our side for too long. You've done well, demon. The spell is complete, and our legacy is secured!" With a final bow, Cohen approached the black blanket, the portal to the demonic realms. "My task is done. I will return to the shadows, leaving the Copmans with their new heir." With that, Cohen moved swiftly, jumping onto the black blanket, which had been the catalyst for this dark magic. The fabric rippled, and in a flash of darkness, Cohen was gone and the blanket lay still, its purpose fulfilled. Colin stood alone, his eyes fixed on the spot where Cohen had been moments ago.

He felt a surge of power and pride. "Logan Copman," he whispered, savoring the name. "My son, my heir." Unbeknownst to the Copmans, their fate was now intertwined with the demonic forces they had summoned. Cohen's plan had come to fruition, and the new Logan was ready to take his place in the family, unaware of the dark origins of his existence.

[sebastianswallows]

The English Client — Sixteen

— PAIRING: Tom Riddle x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: The year is 1952. Tom is working for Borgin and Burkes. He is sent to Rome to acquire three ancient books of magic by any means necessary. One in particular proves challenging to reach, and the only path forward is through a pretty, young bookseller. A foreigner like him, she lives alone, obsessed with her work... until Tom comes into her life.

— WARNINGS: smut, oral sex (f receiving), Tom just being very naughty enjoy ✨

— WORDCOUNT: 2.6k

— TAGLIST: @esolean @localravenclaw @slytherins-heir

I

For perhaps the first time ever in his life, Tom could say he preferred the day to night. At Wool’s, nighttime was when everything went quiet — when all the other children, who during the day were brutish noisy little pests, and the matrons, who were worse, were all asleep — and Tom could read and think and go to places in his mind. At Hogwarts, nighttime was when none of the other students came to him all wanting something — either help with homework or advice from the Head Boy — and he could explore the castle at his pace, learn its secrets, and slip into the Restricted Section undetected. If he was lucky and Peeves wasn’t around, at least.

But now it was during the day that the under-shop was quiet, while Ambrogio was asleep, and the only sound that resonated through those walls was the snapping of the cap on Tom’s enchanted fountain pen while he was fidgeting.

His path to victory was clear: wait for Ambrogio to disenchant the books from the protective spells that kept them bound there, steal the Delomelanicon, and kill him. He would have to move fast before anyone else discovered it was missing, or prepare for the Baron to send people after him.

A small problem presented itself: Tom had never killed a vampire before. He knew how to, of course. It was first-year D.A.D.A. level. He knew Avada Kedavra wouldn’t work because they were already dead. The best solutions seemed to be a bath of sunlight or decapitation… Both of which came with their own challenges.

The phone rang, drowning his thoughts.

“Yes?” answered Tom with a sigh.

“Tom? Are you alone?”

“Yes,” he said, suddenly intrigued. “Why?”

“Are you busy?”

“… Not really.”

“Could you come up, then, please?”

Tom smirked. He knew what this was about.

“I’m lonely,” she complained. Her tone was sweet, beguiling, one he had responded to quite well on past occasions. ‘Lonely’ wasn’t really what she was.

“I should get back to work,” said Tom in his most teasing tone. “And you should too.”

“Alriiight,” she pouted.

The clicking as she hung the phone up lingered in his ears.

II

“Very well,” he sighed as he climbed out of the trapdoor. “What is it?”

“Tom!” she beamed, clapping her hands gladly. “You’re here!” She was perched up on a ladder with her elbow curled around a step.

“I see you took my advice anyway and made yourself busy,” he smirked, walking slowly toward her. “No, don’t get down. I like you up there.”

She paused between steps and looked at him over her shoulder with a twinkle in her eye. It was an enticing view, and he stopped right underneath it.

“You’re quite perfect as you are,” he whispered, gentling a hand around her ankle and starting to squeeze. “So, why did you call me? You were lonely, you said?”

“Why didn’t you come when I asked?” she asked back haughtily.

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Yes, but I had to beg.”

“Maybe I like that,” said Tom, leaning forward to drag a little lick across the inside of her ankle.

She hummed pleasantly and closed her eyes. “You can ask for it, then, if you like it so much,” she murmured.

He looked up at her with a thin, dangerous smile, and moved his hands up slowly from her ankles to her calves, then to her knees, thumbs tickling the backs of them and causing her to shiver. His fingers caught her skirt between them and inclined it upwards.

“What are you doing?” she asked with a wavering voice.

“Hang on,” he said.

Her hands gripped the rungs so tightly the wood groaned.

Tom brought one hand lower in the same slow caress to hold her ankle, stationed roughly at the level of his chest, while the other ventured higher, up the silky path of her thigh until, with the tips of his fingers, he felt the edge of her stocking and the thin strap of her garter. Beyond that point was only soft, warm flesh.

“Tom,” she murmured in a heated warning, but even with her unsteady footing she couldn’t help but arch her back. “Don’t make me enjoy this…”

“Why not?” he whispered, his lips ghosting the smooth bone of her ankle. “Nothing bad will happen to you as long as you sit still for me.”

“Would you catch me if I fell?” she asked, looking down at him with sultry eyes.

But Tom met her gaze with a cold, impassive stare and answered plainly. “No.”

She laughed at him. “Villain.”

But she didn’t laugh for long because his caress was reaching higher up her naked skin, thumb brushing the silky expanse of her moving up and up and up until...

“You’re quite a little damp here,” he purred. “Already?”

“Don’t you dare make fun of me…”

“Tell me,” he continued, “is it just my presence, or my touch? Or perhaps you like the way I talk to you…”

“You are so smug.”

Tom grinned. He couldn’t deny it.

His palm held her thigh, supporting her, while his thumb massaged the edge of her plush folds, pressing on one playfully to ease her panties aside. The lace was already soaked and he could feel her heat seep into his cold hands. He hooked his thumb into the lace and pulled. Fainly from above, he heard her gasp.

Tom moved his head to rest against her knee and gazed upwards. A moan bubbled in his throat at the sight.

“Yes, I can see now just how lonely you were,” he grinned.

“Villain,” she hissed again at him in secret pleasure.

“Your villain.”

She whined frustratedly and glanced at him below with slitted eyes, her face half-hidden by her hair. Strands of it stuck to her face, clinging to the sweat and little tears that beaded in the corners of her eyes. When Tom tore himself away to look at her it seemed for a moment that a veil of dried blood or a lace of spider silk was cast across her face. He was utterly enchanted. He kissed the back of her knee and rubbed his cheek against it to bring his senses back. Then, in a slow, smooth and scraping motion all across her leg and moving upward, his thin hand, pale but for the ink stains on his fingers, slid all the way up to cup her core. He could feel her thighs tense around it and tremble as his fingers brushed her slit. He smiled contentedly at her shaky sigh as he moved his thumb to that pulsing little hole. He waited there, feeling how her subtle muscles worked while with the backs of his fingers, he gently pet her folds.

When he let go of her ankle, she immediately whined and held on tighter to the ladder but she was no closer to falling. In spite of what he’d said, Tom wouldn’t allow it.

“Shhh… I only want to lift your skirt a little. May I?”

“A-alright, but be careful…”

“Have I ever hurt you?”

“Not yet.”

“The cheek you have,” he tutted. “I shall have to slap it out of you, I see.”

“Tom! Not here!”

He couldn’t help but laugh. He loved seeing her frightened.

With more light falling on her skin as he raised her skirt he could see again those little details that had made his mouth water, but there was a charm in seeing her half-shadowed. It made him want to move even closer and complement what he could not see with touch, and taste, and scent, and take her in with all his senses. He placed his lips on her thigh to feel the muscles twitch beneath as she struggled to keep herself upright and still. He kept his eyes fixed on her core, the little of it he could see between his fingers, and watched how it pulsed and swelled and blushed a sultry shade and trembled as it closed around his thumb.

His feet shifted on the ground as his cock began to harden with nothing to soothe it. He could feel it growing warm against his thigh, the sensitive head just barely slipping out from underneath the skin in search of something quite out of its reach. It was the kind of pain he didn’t often get to feel and it made him slightly dizzy, but it only gave him cause to hang on more tightly to her.

Her body tried to coax him in, kissing and half-swallowing the little that he offered. Tom grinned and let her take it, his teeth sharp against the skin of her thighs while his thumb just rested there, then sunk into her greedy hole. She moved above him as her back arched once again, twisting in the grip of her pleasure at the slightest hint of touch inside. He felt her seeping down his thumb slick and sweet and warm.

“Do you feel good?” he asked with his lips still pressed in one long kiss against her upper thigh.

She mumbled something he couldn’t quite catch, probably not a word at all.

“What was that?” he asked again.

“Y-you’re cruel,” she breathed. “Give me more…”

Tom chuckled and kissed her thigh again, then with gentle and persistent pressure drove his thumb inside, curling it against her softest flesh while his fingers started playing with her clit. He trapped it between his index and middle finger and began to rub it back and forth.

“Ah! Aaaah! Tom!”

“Is that what you wanted?” he grinned, watching with enraptured eyes how she tightened around him.

Her nub was blushing fiercely, its tip erect and swollen where it was forced out of its protective hood by the slight press of his fingers. He nipped her thigh and thrust in harder, all the way up to the knuckle, and curled his thumb inside her on the outward thrust. The wooden ladder groaned again. His hand twisted slightly, playing with her flesh while above she screamed for him.

“Tom! D-don’t…”

“Hmm? What was that, my sweet?”

Her moans came out all muffled as if she was biting into something out of agony and pleasure. Between her legs, Tom was quite happy. His lips fluttered in light kisses at her thigh while he stuffed her with that little bit of him and abused her tender clit.

He felt her begin to unravel, her cries growing desperate and pouty and her hips twisting as much as they could. Her shoes shifted on the ladder steps beside him but she couldn’t really move. Tom grinned proudly, his heart growing twice over in his chest at hearing her so needy, so desperate for him. He shoved his thumb the whole way through and kept her plugged up like that while he brushed his knuckles on her clit, flicking over it without stopping as if punishing the tiny thing. She moaned and stilled as if her body was in shock, but her core clenched tight to suckle on his finger. She left a mess over his hand once she was done.

Tom chuckled and leaned a bit higher, bracing himself with one foot on the bottom rung to reach all that he wanted.

“Aaah! Too much! Tom, ‘s too m-much…”

He opened his mouth and let his warm breath tease her, then, moving his hand aside, added his tongue to his service of her. He lapped at the edge of her folds and slowly moved onto the centre. One thick swipe cleaned her pudgy nub and from there he dragged the mess lower, to the hot entrance that still encircled his thumb.

“Tom,” she sighed dreamily, her voice with no strength anymore. “Tom, I already… I…”

“Mmmm I know,” he whispered against her. “You can do it again, can’t you? For me?”

She whined petulantly but stayed where she was and let him have her.

Slowly, he dragged his thumb out, his lips there feeling the way her skin pulled as it clung, and once she was empty he was quick to put his tongue to work once again. She tasted so sweet, and salty from sweat, all of it just because of him… Tom lapped at her slit from clit to softening hole and dragged his tongue across her heavily until the tip could just slip inside. She whimpered above him and her body jerked, not quite a tremble, but he held on to her tightly enough. Wet noises bloomed all around them muffled by the cover of her skirt and her thighs around his face.

“Tom,” she whimpered, “Tom, wh-what if someone comes…”

“I hope someone will,” he grinned, the warm breath of his chuckle tickling her even more.

“I’mmm… I’m serious!”

He puckered his lips up and kissed her, sucking her sweetness into his mouth, then started to lap at her again. She was warm on his tongue, her centre still twitching in a greedy and hungry yearning for more. Underneath, his trousers were killing him, pressing tight against his cock that leaked and dribbled uselessly. He couldn’t even afford to rub himself lest he let her fall. Well, that was something to take care of later… He let his tongue slip into her hole again to tease it, sate it, then it slid out to tend to her clit.

“Tom!” she moaned a warning, her hips grinding mindlessly against his mouth. “Tom, I can’t…”

He held her hip with one hand, and her leg with the other, fixed his lips on her and started licking messily, noisily, rubbing her whole centre as fresh wetness flowed straight onto his tongue. He kissed her throbbing hole as if it were her lovely mouth. As if he could drink her life from it.

“Tooom!” she cried, and he felt her core flexing again in a sudden orgasm, filling his mouth with fresh honey made just for him.

He barely had time to react when he felt her body start to shake from her legs up to her tummy in a pleasure that spread like a wave. Her moans had faded to low, heaving breaths, and Tom could almost feel her strength leave her. His arms reached out to grip her waist and control her unexpected descent as she tumbled, sapless, into his arms. He found his footing quickly and held her up. Her foot tangled only on the last step.

“Ooof… There are you,” he chuckled, holding her around the waist. “Alright now?”

He let her lean back against his chest while she found her footing but as he looked down at her sweaty, flushed face, he realised with a proud grin that her eyes were closed in pleasure.

“Darling?”

“I’m here,” she said, her voice weak and shaky. “I’m… mmmm…”

“Yes, you certainly are,” he purred, nuzzling the back of her neck.

She giggled, still catching her breath, and her head lolled heavily back on his shoulder. She looked like the most sated cat lifted from a sea of milk. Infected by the sight, Tom found himself smiling too. His gaze slid to her lips and he leaned forward, kissing the edge of her mouth.

“You were drooling,” he whispered teasingly.

She frowned and seemed ready to protest, but licked the corners of her lips just in case. “If I were, it’s your fault.”

He was getting ready to say something witty again, his grip growing tighter around her, but then, like a death knell, the bell rang.

“Buongiorno?” someone called out. It was Sister Silvia, one of her most beloved regulars.

“Buh— Buongiorno!” she said in a panic, rushing out of Tom’s arms and frantically straightening her skirt. “I’m… here! Coming right now!”

“Oh, I thought you already did,” he whispered in her ear.

She slapped his hands from around her hips and tugged at her skirt a little more.

“Evil boy,” she mumbled as she pulled herself out of his arms, but she was smiling.

[moth-mimic]

Mystical Powers?

at work I drank a cold brew coffee, diet coke, and sweet tea all at the same time and I had to release the caffeine somehow I’m so sorry

‣ pairing: Astarion x reader but from Gale’s POV

‣ words: 1697

‣ content: all jokes, Gale is purposefully mischaracterized, Gale is a ‘nice guy’ and owns smut fanfiction (implied), unrequited rivalry, Gale is basically Matthew Patel

───────────────────

‣ summary: Gale has done everything for you. Yes, he has ate your artifacts, but the reason you even offered them was because you were undoubtedly attracted to him. It was obvious from the way you talked to him last out of the entire group before going to sleep every night. He was just special like that. However, others— specifically a seductive white-haired elf— are not so keen to respect your guy’s destiny to be together. Gale sets out to prove luscious locks are never more important than a pure heart (without any ulterior motives at all).

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Gale rummaged through his collections of books, desperately searching for the one holy piece of information that could grant him a solution to this little problem of his. This problem was not one of scholarly importance, he was well aware, and it was not likely he would find his answer in his ancient texts. But these books were all he knew. What was he going to do, communicate like a normal human that had not been cooped up in his depression tower for years? Blasphemy.

He had taken much of his time alone as of late to contemplate on how he should proceed with the situation. He was not avoiding it, obviously not. He was merely worried for your safety. A fragile one like you was not meant to associate yourself with those like Astarion, an elf skilled in the craft of manipulation and deceitful seduction. Astarion had merely blinded you. Gale was your only hope for freedom. He definitely did not think this just because he wanted to feel needed. And definitely not because he was just sick of seeing the both of you make bedroom eyes across each nightly bonfire.

Lost in his thoughts, his attention suddenly snapped back as he noticed a book of interest. He picked it up gingerly as he read the title.

“Taken by the Vampire King… What a lovely piece of literature, if I do say so myself.” He muttered as he began to delicately pry the cover open. He suddenly stopped himself and slammed the book closed as he remembered the point of this search. “No, this will not assist me. Well…. if seduction is what draws Tav to the pale elf, then I suppose…”

“Now what in the hells are you doing making such a mess in here?”

The sudden voice nearly caused Gale to literally explode, his hands grasping at his chest to calm himself. He spasmed for a minute as his brain rebooted. “Uh, uh, I—“ And then, as if a switch was flipped on inside his brain, he irritably whipped around. “To all gods, Astarion, what are you doing giving me such a fright in the middle of the night? Do you know nothing of peace?”

“Pardon me, but I am an elf. I’m not in need of sleep like you poor little things.” He snorted, conceited as usual, prowling over towards Gale and taking a peek at the book before Gale can even throw it across his tent. “And I see you’re busying yourself with… important matters, hm?”

“It’s for educational— No, what do you want from me, Astarion?”

“Just a friend…” he pouted like a neglected child, collapsing onto Gale’s bedroll in defeat. Gale would feel a twinge of guilt if it was not his mortal enemy saying those words. And also if there wasn’t an obvious layer of sarcasm beneath.

“No, no, out with it.”

“Uh, fine. I was wondering if you had some type of strength potion. I feel like utter shit.” Astarion sighed as he threw his head back, blowing a strand of wandering hair out of his face. Gale studied him as he was distracted— it didn’t seem like he was lying. He looked like utter shit, his hands twitching and under eyes so dark as if he had never seen the sun in his 200+ years of life. (Gale would soon realize this observation was, in fact, accurate)

“Yeah, I see that. And I’m a wizard, not an alchemist, actually. A wizard merely studies their practice of magic through multiple sources of teachings while an alchemist…”

Gale continued on as Astarion sat there in silence. It was not a respectable type of silence, but rather one of ‘if this dude doesn’t shut up I think I might actually kill him.’ His hands began to clench into fists, his nails digging into his flesh as Gale’s nonsensical words pounded through his brain. The tadpole was not the only force controlling him tonight. His eyes flickered with hunger, yet Gale did not notice.

“Gale.”

“Alchemists deserve all the respect, of course, yet they are unaccustomed to my field of— Ah, yes?”

“How does your blood taste?”

The wizard stopped in his tracks. “I- I’m sorry?” He waited for a response for a moment. When he did not get one he continued. “Well, if you must know, my blood actually tastes of bile. You see, it serves as a natural precaution against…” He thought for a moment. “Certain entities.”

Astarion had nothing more to say than a simple, “Hm.” The two looked at eachother for a brief second, awkwardly, one weighing his options and the other debating if it was fitting to run away. Fortunately for Gale, within another second the pale elf was gone from his tent, leaving the wizard with a cloud of confusion. And maybe just a bit of fear. He stood there a moment before his eyes slowly trailed to the book now on the other side of the tent. He remembered the bloodless boar on the side of the road. He pictured Astarion’s scarlet gaze, burning with desire for something unfathomable. Suddenly he knew the answer to his problem.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Gale had been watching the two of you ever since that unsettling night. He had witnessed some unsavory moments, yes, but everyone has to make their sacrifices. And his sacrifices were undoubtedly worth it— every night he stayed awake long enough to watch the elf make his way into the forest to sustain himself on blood from some unknown source. This night in particular was one that would change everything. This night was the night he would reveal Astarion’s true nature to you.

After witnessing Astarion make his way into the forest for his nightly ritual, Gale hurriedly makes his way into your tent.

“Y/N? Y/N! Wake up now, this is dire!”

“Huh—“ You, wide awake, turn around to Gale’s face a few mere inches from yours. “Gale! Why the hells are you in my tent?” You hiss, backing up to escape his pleading puppy eyes.

“No time for questions, we must go into the forest! There, a truth will be uncovered, and you will be free from the vampire’s wicked hold!”

You’re about to ask Gale to speak like a normal person, yet he quickly grabs your hand and drags you outside before you can protest. “Gale, this isn’t really—“

“I assure you it is!”

Without another word he leads you both onto Astarion’s trail. The only problem is that Gale does not seem to know exactly where the pale elf has wandered off to, as he has never before made the courageous decision to follow him into the unknown abyss of the woods. You watch him anxiously look around and mutter to himself. You sigh knowingly, turning away from him and walking on a path you’ve traced many times before.

“Wait, wait! It is incredibly dangerous and you do not know where your judgements may lead you!”

“I promise you I do.” You pointedly say, leading him deeper into the forest so familiar to both you and Astarion. You stop as you reach an area uncovered by the canopy of leaves.

“Why-“ Gale begins before catching sight of the perpetrator. There he is, standing there in the moonlit clearing, shirtless. Gale would probably take more notice to the current scenario if he did not already have a speech planned.

“You- You creature! I knew there was something foul deep within you from the moment we met! I recognized your intent all along— to simply deceit every innocent being you came upon, to lead them under your malicious influence. But here I stand, shattering your mask and revealing your true being: a vampire! Cower under my fireball—“ Gale stops for a minute, trying to remember what to do next, before quickly summoning a fireball in his hands like he originally intended. “And consider our fight… BEGUN!”

The crickets chirp as he finishes his lengthy speech. Astarion is the first to speak.

“…Is that all?”

“Yes. W-was it not obvious?”

With Gale’s answer, you and Astarion immediately break into a fit of laughter. Gale stands there, confused, quickly glancing between the two of you and wondering what the joke was.

“And what are you gonna prove my ‘true being’ with, oh wise wizard?” Astarion smirks, still collecting himself.

“With—! With…” Gale pauses, looks around in a panic, and realizes a key factor of his plan is missing. There is not a bloodless life to be seen. “What in the realms— Why are you here, then, Astarion? What do you sustain yourself with? Answer me!”

Astarion merely purses his lips, rhythmically tapping his fingers to the side of his face. He gives Gale a pitiful pout. “Oh dear… This is a bit awkward, isn’t it?”

And suddenly Gale realizes. He turns to you immediately, the fireball now accidentally pointed at you. “You knew?!”

You raise your hands in protest, eyeing the fireball in his hands. “I-I mean, yeah. Like, everybody knew. Except you, of course.”

“What?”

“They are right,” Astarion adds, “Nobody told you because you are a little… well… extreme.” A pause. “And desperate.”

“I’m— I’m not—!” Gale’s fireball just burns brighter, and you begin to think it’s enough to send the entire forest into flames. However, you’re more worried about the possibility of him literally exploding and obliterating everything in his proximity. You glance towards Astarion, whose eyebrows are furrowed at the same thought. The resentment in Gale’s eyes grows brighter with the flame. Yet, suddenly, the fire disappears. The wizard looks as if he’s about to collapse into despair at any moment. “I don’t understand! You make no sense!”

He turns towards you and points an accusing finger. Astarion just shrugs as you glance towards him. “Even when I am right in front of you, laying down my life, you do not care! I am a respectable wizard, name known to beings far and wide! What does he offer, huh?”

You silently raise your eyebrow. Gale just scowls.

“Ugh. Typical.” And with that he whips around, his sleep robe lashing behind him. As he storms off he adds, “Don’t even add me to your party tomorrow. Or ever.”

You weren’t planning on it.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

So a few days ago I posted something about making a ‘nice guy’ Gale fanfic but not posting it out of shame and I ended up getting like 30+ likes so I thought it was only fair to actually post. Anyway please don’t hold me accountable for this k thanks love u guys I’ll probably have LOTR content soon

[ritsusakumawife]

Kamisato Ayato x Reader

I got sick while making this so if some scenes/parts just don't make sense I apologize No, I'm definitely not using my sickness as an excuse for my bad writing

WARNINGS: !!Mentions of Y/Ns mental state!! (Only once at the start) Super ooc, bad grammar, profanity, and full of nonsense

Words: 1484

Part 1, Part 2 (You’re here!)

It’s been a few months since you left the estate

You still haven’t received any news about Ayato's return, which makes you slightly worried, but hey, at least these past few months, your mental health has gotten better

No Ayato = no unnecessary drama = peace = better mental state

Your shop has been doing well

The old regulars are now back and happily buying the things they needed but couldn't get due to the market price

Everything is back to normal

Yeah, no. It isn't completely back to normal

You have quite the reputation and even have multiple names. One popular name is "Two-faced Demon"

Why? There have been rumors circulating that you talked badly about Ayato, your spouse, around others while remaining an innocent doll around Ayato and vice versa

And due to your not-so-favorable reputation, you sometimes get some unwanted customers that want to ruin your business

Thankfully, though, you have some reliable friends that keep unwanted customers out

But even that has downsides

Some people are now wary of your shop and refuse to even look in the same direction as your shop when they pass by it, as they might suddenly get attacked by being an “unwanted customer”. It's pretty stupid to do, but it’s best to be cautious, right?

Reopening the shop has helped you, sure, but even that becomes stressful

It’s hard to manage it all by yourself, and you surely can’t leave it all alone when you go adventuring in the near future

And so you came up with a solution to reduce the overwhelming stress and future problems concerning the shop. Hire employees!

With the help of Thoma and Ayaka, you managed to scout a few trustworthy people who’re perfect for the job

All of them are quick learners and hard workers, which is perfect! With only a few more pieces of guidance, you can peacefully leave everything in their capable hands

Two months passed quickly, and everyone can now handle everything by themselves, even without your presence

Li Hua, in particular, is quite the master at her job.

You won’t have any lingering worries with her taking care of everything there

And with that, you’re all ready to go back to adventuring!

“Leaving already?”

“Hm? Oh! Heizou, yup! The unsolved mysteries out there are calling out to me."

“Oh really?”

“I can hear it whispering, “Y/N~ Y/N~~ Come solve this mysterious ancient puzzle!””

“Puzzles..Say, what if I come with you?”

“No, you ca—” You get cut off by Heizou pressing a finger on your lips

“Ah, ah, ah, I promise it’ll be fun! Besides, I can prove to be extremely useful to you when it comes to solving puzzles.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Do you doubt my abilities? If so, that really hurts my poor, poor heart.”

“I know your capabilities better than anyone Heizou. We grew up together.”

“If you know what my capabilities are, then why won’t you let me come then." Heizou pouts.

“You perfectly know why.”

“Do I?”

“Don’t play dumb with me. You have an important job here, Heizou. I can’t just take you with me.”

“I don’t even know when I’ll be back in Inazuma.”

“Y/N! Everything’s already set, just waiting on you,” Beidou semi-whispers.

“I’ll be there soon. Just..Saying some goodbyes to a friend.”

Heizou watches from the sidelines as you interact with Beidou. A tinge of jealousy and longing is present in his eyes, but it goes away quickly before anyone can see it

"Soo, I guess this is it. I’ll try my best to keep in contact with you. Promise. And maybe when we meet again, we can have a drink or two? "You held out a pinky finger towards Heizou

Heizou chuckles. “Well then, I’ll hold you up to that promise.” He intertwines his own pinky with yours

'Oh..'

Only now, as you say your final goodbyes to Heizou, do you realize how charming your best friend is.

His burgundy hair is flowing in the wind, his light olive green eyes are glistening in the sun, and his charming smile shows a hint of mischievousness.

'I'm sure whoever he'll get together with will be lucky.'

You quickly turn away from him upon realizing what you’re currently thinking

“Hey~ Why’d you turn away from me so harshly? Do you really not want to see my face that badly?" He says in a teasing tone, almost as if knowing what was going on inside your head

“That’s not it. I just—Ugh." You stumble over your words. Now that you think about it, Heizou has always had this effect on you. The man just knew how to make you speechless and stumble on your own words

“Alright, alright, that’s enough teasing.” Beidou interrupts

'Beidou! My savior!'

With that, Beidou drags you over to the Alcor(Crux fleet?? What’s the difference again)

While boarding, you catch a glimpse of platinum blonde hair

After settling down in your temporary room on the ship

You set out to find the owner of the platinum blonde hair. It’s been quite a long time since you last met, after all

“It seems that fate has once again made our paths cross.”

Oh, how you missed hearing that melodic voice of his

“It seems so..” You sit down next to where he sits at the edge

“Who would’ve thought you’d be here all along?”

Silence envelopes you both

“It hurt a lot, you know..”

Kazuha remains silent and listens attentively

“You suddenly went missing after the shogunate declared you to be an enemy for eternity. I was worried sick. I thought that maybe you’d been killed.”

“I’m sorry” is all that leaves Kazuha's lips. It’s spoken so softly and quietly that one would think it was just a whisper of the wind

There in the back of the ship, hidden away from everyone, you sit by Kazuha as you cry into his arms and whisper the things you’ve always wanted to say to the man, and even the things that are of another matter. The worries and pain you’ve kept to yourself

It's sort of ironic that instead of being open to your husband, you’re much more open to your other friends. Especially this man called Kaedehara Kazuha, he has this air around him that makes you feel secure and relaxed and spill all your secrets and feelings, adding to the fact that you've known this man for much longer than you've known your husband.

You know that whatever secret you tell him, he’ll keep it to himself until his very last breath. That’s how much you trust and confide in Kazuha.

"Hey..I'm sorry for, y'know, this whole crying thing.."

"It's perfectly fine, dove. It's best to let it all out rather than keeping it to yourself."

"Besides, isn't listening to your troubles also part of my job as your knight?"

"Pfft, my knight, huh? Well, then, Mr. Knight care to tell me why you didn't bother to tell me where you went? As my knight, it's only right for you to report to me."

"That's..I apologize. I had to flee immediately and couldn't risk putting you in danger by contacting you."

"What about contacting me by using another person? Like, I don't know, making Beidou deliver a message to me."

"I'd rather not trouble her with my problems. She's already done me a big favor by letting me hide out here."

"Fine, fine. I won't push the issue any further. Guess you're forgiven for now, Mr. Knight."

"Why, thank you, my liege" he chuckles while giving you a bow

The day ends with your and Kazuha's laughter filling the air

Once the moon has disappeared, the sun appears again on the horizon.

And the sun signifies that a new day has come.

You woke up to the sounds of the lively crew moving on and about. After getting yourself ready, you begin to head out.

Upon arriving on the deck, you notice how you've almost reached Liyue Harbor. It seems that the sea decided to be kind and didn't cause the voyage to be longer than necessary.

After what felt like hours, you've finally arrived and docked.

Kazuha, being the gentleman that he is, decided to lend you a hand in getting off the ship.

"I'd love to show you around, but unfortunately, the Alcor will be leaving soon after getting some resources we need." Kazuha tried to hide his unhappiness by giving you his signature charming smile, but as you've known him since you guys were kids, you quickly saw past his facade.

Seeing Kazuha smile with the sun perfectly behind him, as if purposefully illuminating him, is a breath-taking sight. First Heizou, now Kazuha, why is it only now that you've noticed how good-looking your childhood friends are?

To be fair, Kazuha was quite popular with the ladies; even when you guys were still children, the girls would flock around him as if he were some deity.

'Wait, no, Y/N, stop thinking about these things. You already have a husband! You have to stay loyal, no matter how shitty your husband may be. You can't just cheat or think these things about other people.'

'Well, this is it. A new place, a new life'

giuwfgeahsjk, this is it for this part! I might make the next part tomorrow, but for now, I need my sleep.

NOTE: I DO NOT CONDONE INFIDELITY. THIS IS PURELY A WORK OF FICTION.

[ailendolin]

List 5 topics you can talk on for an hour without preparing any material.

Thank you for tagging me @the-20th-century-girl!

1. Palaeontology: I didn't get a PhD for nothing and even though it's been years since my thesis defense, I'm sure I could still do the full presentation without preparation. I dedicated three years of my life to this (ten if you count my bachelor's and master's degrees as well) and I certainly don't mind talking about this childhood dream of mine or the issues surrounding academia, especially here in Germany.

2. Ghosts and anything Six Idiots related: the Six Idiots have been such a huge part of my life for the last few years even my family now knows who I'm talking about when I mention Thomas lol. They're lucky the original Ghosts isn't on TV here or I definitely would have made them watch it with me (on that note, I made my dad watch Bill last year and he enjoyed it!).

3. The Lord of the Rings: the films and then the books changed my life 23 years ago and if prompted, I will happily discuss why the Eagles were not the solution to the ring problem and why the Silmarillion is absolutely incredible and not dry and boring at all. Oh, and don't get me started on the musical or I will lament for an hour about the Springle Ring not being on the cast recording.

4. Survival stories: Uruguayan Air Force Flight 571 is just the latest in a line of survival stories that I have been fascinated by over the years. I'm sure I could talk about it for an hour alone but there's also the Franklin Expedition, the Donner Party, the Endurance Expedition, the Terra Nova Expedition, the Batavia shipwreck ... I think you get my point. There is just something about humans facing such extremes adversities and, if they're lucky, rising above them that I find deeply touching.

5. Animals in captivity: a few years ago, the documentary Blackfish opened my eyes to all the issues surrounding animals in captivity. I will never forget the pictures of Orca teeth being so far eroded that you can see the root canal or that one time my palaeo prof took one look at a skeleton and promptly asked if the specimen came from a zoo because he could immediately tell by the deformed bones and worn teeth. I don't try to convince people not to go to zoos because it's none of my business to tell them how to live their lives but if asked I do tell them why I don't visit those places anymore in the hopes that they too will realise that a fun day out for them is a lifetime of miserable imprisonment for the animals they claim to love.

Honorable mention goes to History because I have been fascinated by a wide range of historical topics over the years (the Pacific theatre of war, Chernobyl and nuclear power, the Plague, Napoleonic Wars, Ancient Rome, mountaineering history, medical history ...) and could talk about any of them for hours if prompted.

Tagging @amalthea9, @professorlehnsherr-almashy and @ginevralinton but no pressure!

[electronickingdomfox]

"Demons" review

Novel from 1986 by J. M. Dillard.

It started promisingly, with a story about demonic possession, hints of "The Exorcist", and a sense of creeping horror. At Sarek's and Amanda's house, of all places. But I didn't like much the direction it took afterwards. The later sections are split between scenes in the Enterprise, where Kirk punches possessed people and locks them in closets, over and over again. And the (somewhat more interesting) plot of Spock, McCoy and Mary Sue, searching for a solution to the problem, where most of the adventure comes from McCoy being a constant damsel in distress. It doesn't help that he puts himself and the others in so much danger, just because of a really uncharacteristic and childish behavior on his part (though he kind of redeems himself at the end). The key to defeating the titular "demons" is also quite anticlimactic. And I feel that the plot of "Kirk vs. mutinous crew" was better done in previous novels, like "Mutiny on the Enterprise", with a more nuanced villain and satisfying resolution. There are some good scenes, though. In particular the final showdown at Sarek's house carries quite the emotional punch.

This is the second Star Trek novel by Dillard, and there are several things in common with the other one ("Mindshadow"). Sarek and Amanda also figure prominently, this time in the unusual role of enemies. And large sections of the story are set on Vulcan, including an appearance of the masters of Gol. Lieutenant Ingrid Tomson returns as well, with a greater protagonism in the story, helping Kirk to fight against the murderous crewmembers. As also happened with "Mindshadow", there's a Mary Sue stealing the spotlight and having a romance with McCoy (which has as much chemistry as inert matter). But while Dr. Saenz at least played a key role, here Dr. Anitra Lanter has no real business in the story, other than doing the things that Spock could perfectly do himself. The romance is also incredibly shoehorned in the middle of the story, as it comes from nowhere, and by later sections it has basically disappeared (and with this, I think there's been three McCoy romances in the TOS novels so far: all of them sucked, all of them reminded us that the woman was young enough to be his daughter, and all of them ultimately pinpointed just how gay he is for Spock). So yeah, I can't say I liked this Anitra character at all. And her personality traits don't quite mesh together: she's a brilliant scientist with a doctorate (in her early 20's), she has studied among Vulcans to control her telepathic abilities, she's a practical joker that pranks the Captain with her "haha! so funny!" jokes, she's a barroom brawler, she behaves like a child... I don't know, make up your mind!

As a side note, and even if I didn't like this novel all that much, it has a distinctive quality: Uhura kicks a possessed Kirk in the balls, and that's something that doesn't happen everyday.

Spoilers under the cut:

Some scientists have recently returned to Vulcan from Beekman's Planet, where they unearthed ancient artifacts that seem like boxes, impossible to open due to their magnetic fields. The artifacts suggest an older, more advanced civilization than all others in that sector. Among these scientists is Silek, Sarek's brother, who's staying at his house, and who lost his wife under strange circumstances during the expedition. And there's also Silek's father-in-law, Starnn, who gifts Sarek one of the mysterious boxes. Soon thereafter, Amanda starts noticing disturbing things at her home: uprooted rose bushes, portraits upside down, and a not-quite-himself Sarek.

Meanwhile, the Enterprise is headed for Vulcan to drop there more scientists from Beekman, and have shore leave. We're introduced to brilliant Dr. Anitra Lanter, who's currently working in some secret project with Spock. However, during the trip, Lieutenant Tomson finds her security team member al-Baslama brutally murdered in his quarters. And the description of his corpse is really, REALLY gruesome; so much that it made me feel lucky that this was a book and not a film... The murder investigation returns nothing, but nonetheless, Kirk decides to go ahead with the shore leave at Vulcan, because why not (and this is something that also happened in "Mindshadow": Kirk granting a shore leave under absolutely unreasonable conditions). Also, Kirk feels like singing in the shower after seeing the horribly mutilated corpse. And everyone aboard hears him singing through the intercoms, since Anitra thought it would be very funny to violate the Captain's privacy with a hidden microphone (hahaha...ha?). Kirk punishes her by sending her with Scotty to overhaul the engines, but she does it in no time because she's brilliant. So she gets to enjoy shore leave at Sarek's house, with Kirk, Spock and McCoy.

During the visit, they find Silek murdered in the garden, and later Starnn impaled in a sword, as if he had commited suicide. That same day, Anitra wakes up in the middle of the night and sneakes into Sarek's study. The strange box begins to open, and she averts her eyes from the light inside. First Spock, and then Sarek, follow her, and she alerts Spock through their mind-link to not look at the light, or Sarek's eyes. They evade Sarek with excuses, and confer at Anitra's room: she tells Spock that his father has been taken by the same entity that's possessing the Vulcans, and forcing them to commit those murders. And it's apparent that Anitra and Spock have been investigating this problem for a while. Nonetheless, the next day Spock and Anitra go to the Vulcan Academy, while Kirk and McCoy go to a bar (because why not?), leaving Amanda alone with the possessed Sarek (what could go wrong?). Amanda finds a warning note from the late Silek, and tries to contact the Enterprise, but too late. Sarek has found her... Fortunately, Uhura was suspicious of the cut transmission, and alerts Spock, who rushes to his home and saves Amanda from Sarek. It turns out that Sarek (or whatever has taken control of him) murdered Silek and Starnn.

Everybody has returned to the Enterprise, and Amanda is put to sleep with a sedative, after her traumatic experience. Finally, Spock explains what's going on. The researchers at Beekman were infected by parasites that mesh with the brain at subatomic levels, and force the victim to commit unspeakable acts of sadism. Anitra is specially sensible to the entities due to her telepathic powers, and can sense who's possessed; but those same powers make her specially desirable for the parasites. The major problem now, is that the infection spreads quickly through contact, and thanks to the very intelligent actions of everyone (from Starfleet to Kirk), now both Vulcan and the Enterprise are infested.

Amanda is one of the first to appear possessed, when she attacks Anitra. The parasites speak through her, telling Anitra that, if she stuns Amanda, they'll kill the host. She's forced to stun her, however, and Amanda is put in life support, apparently dead. Things get worse, once it's revealed that Scotty (currently commanding) and the whole bridge crew are also possessed, and are bringing the ship to Rigel to further spread the infection. Kirk goes to the hangar to secure a means of escape, while Spock sabotages the engines to put the Enterprise adrift. Meanwhile, Anitra and McCoy barricade themselves at auxiliary control, with Amanda's lifeless body. The situation is of course very romantic, so they start to flirt. When Kirk returns to auxiliary control, he finds out that Amanda was just playing dead and attacked Anitra again, so McCoy put them both to sleep with a hypo. Then, McCoy notices something weird about Kirk... The Captain has been also possessed! But before Kirk can attack them, Spock storms into the room with Uhura (who's also free of parasites) and stuns Kirk. Uhura stays at auxiliary control, to watch over Kirk and Amanda, while Spock, McCoy and Anitra run to the hangar. In the end, only Anitra gets into the shuttle and flees away, since McCoy and Spock stay behind to secure her escape.

Somehow, evil-Kirk has recovered and escaped, and captures Spock and McCoy, showing them how the Enterprise destroys the shuttle. Then Spock and McCoy are put together in the brig, but are rescued by Anitra. The shuttle was just a decoy, and now they're free to take another and return to Vulcan. The objective is taking a live subject with parasites, and study him at the Vulcan Academy in search for a cure. They land on the Vulcan desert, far away from the city, and have to traverse it on foot. McCoy is attacked by a tentacled man-eating plant and sprains his ankle. But he's too stubborn to be carried by Spock so they proceed very slowly, and once the sun rises, McCoy collapses from the heat. They find shelter in a cave, inhabited by the Kolinahr masters of Gol, where McCoy recovers a bit. Spock asks the masters to take care of McCoy while he and Anitra solve the parasite crisis. But he should have asked them to tie the doctor up instead, because McCoy is determined to come along, so he follows them secretly across the desert... And then a le-matya attacks McCoy, so now he's poisoned (face palm). Anitra has to go quickly to the city, get an antidote from a local healer, and hitchhike her way back in a flying car, to cure McCoy.

In the Enterprise, Uhura catches the naughty Kirk again, and after stunning and locking him up for a day or so, Kirk recovers from the possession. After this comes a lot of Kirk sneaking through corridors, punching people and all that. It's a bit messy, but suffice to say that at the end, only he and Lieutenant Tomson are free from the parasites. They notice that people who've been unconscious and isolated for a while tend to become themselves again. Thus, they flood the entire ship with sleeping gas, and problem solved, for the moment.

Finally at the Vulcan Academy lab, Spock leaves McCoy and Anitra there, while he goes fetch a test subject for the experiments: his father, who's still at home doing... possessed things, I guess. Spock confronts Sarek, but he's no match for him and is rendered unconscious. At the lab, Anitra feels the severed mind-link with Spock, and rushes to help him. McCoy, of course, wants to go too (but it's okay, this is the only time he ends up being useful). At Sarek's home, McCoy tends to the unconscious Spock, who's suffered a fracture in the head and will die without immediate surgery. While Anitra goes after Sarek, armed with a phaser. And just then, the doctor notices that Spock's phaser is missing... uh, oh! Sarek returns triumphant, with a now possessed Anitra in tow. They try to force McCoy to revive Spock, so they can torture him later. McCoy offers himself instead, if they will just leave Spock alone, but the demons laugh at this (everyone in this novel reminds poor McCoy that he's useless, even the parasites!). The doctor is put in a very difficult situation: on the one hand, he can't just let Spock die; on the other, if he revives him, the entities will just kill him in a horrible way. Thus, he resorts to trickery, and injects Spock with something that stops his heart for a moment (I guess it's the same thing he used on Kirk in Amok Time, which may prove that he just carries one of those hypos everywhere...). McCoy focuses on his grief for Spock's "death", knowing that Anitra's telepathy will make her feel that, and believe Spock's truly dead. When she enters the room to check it, McCoy incapacitates her, takes the phaser, and stuns both her and Sarek.

A while later, Spock wakes up in the Academy lab, recovered from his injury. As it turns out, McCoy brought them all there, and now has Sarek and Anitra in isolation chambers to begin the experiments. They try several compounds on them, but nothing works, and both subjects are dying... Until they're not. Sarek wakes up, and he's again himself. As it turns out, a bit of waiting was all that was required (which Kirk had already discovered in his own way aboard the Enterprise). The parasites need to feed constantly on others, so after a day or so of isolation, they just simply disappear.

In the final part the Enterprise, with its crew back to normal, puts some bombs filled with sleeping gas over Vulcan, so everybody is eventually freed of the parasites. There's also an explanation for the boxes found in Beekman; they were containers for the entities, that would keep them indefinitely alive after all hosts in the planet had died. That way, they had waited for millenia, until new potential hosts appeared.

Spirk Meter: 0/10*. Nothing that comes to mind, unless you count Kirk's confidence in Spock finding a solution for the infestation, no matter what... But c'mon, you can do better than that!

The Spones, however, is veeeery heavy. At the beginning, McCoy is hilariously jealous of Anitra and Spock spending so much time together. He confronts first Anitra, and then Spock about it, warning the Vulcan that Anitra may have a crush on him. The response of both is that he should mind his own business. Later, McCoy confronts Spock again, when he finds him leaving Anitra's room in the middle of the night, and he's again suspicious and angry. Sure, the narrative later tells us that McCoy was jealous because he liked Anitra all along. Only that... it doesn't look like that in the slightest. At this early point, there's been no sign whatsoever that McCoy is interested in her. His only concern for Anitra was that she was developing an ulcer, and McCoy had even suggested to her that she should date young men her own age (which obviously would exclude him). So the later explanation seems more like a retcon than anything, or a bad case of "tell and not show". But there's much more. Throughout the entire novel, Spock and McCoy are protecting each other, and in fact, whenever there's a choice between staying with Spock, or going after Anitra, McCoy somehow ends up always with Spock, having some emotional conversation about how thankful they are for the other's help, or how sorry they are for having hurt each other. At times, it seems that Anitra is just there to fulfill Spock's duties, so Spock's free to be alone with McCoy and have angsty scenes with him. It happens first when Spock chooses to stay with McCoy, unnecessarily, while he treats Amanda. Which prompts Kirk to comment that Spock only did it to protect McCoy (of course, Spock quickly denies it). Then McCoy lets Anitra go away in the shuttle, because he's that stubborn about protecting Spock, which leads to another emotionally charged scene in the brig (very similar to the one in Bread and Circuses). And once McCoy discovers that Anitra's alive and Spock knew all along, he feels "the ridiculous urge to kiss the Vulcan or kill him". It's Spock who rescues McCoy from the tentacle plant, and gives him the vine to eat something. And later, when McCoy kisses Anitra in the cave, Spock interrupts them with a cough, and Anitra leaves them alone once more. Then McCoy acts all embarrassed, and looks guilty at Spock (why guilty!?), while Spock feeds him. In fact, Anitra could take a bath in a cave pool, since Spock was so concerned about McCoy, that she knew they'd leave her in privacy. After the le-matya incident, it's Anitra who leaves, and Spock stays to nurse McCoy. Then the doctor apologizes (to Spock!) for being in love with Anitra, and that he didn't intend to love her... See a pattern already? It's even more evident at the climax, after Anitra has been possessed and McCoy protects Spock against her, offering himself to be tortured in his stead. Spock also wonders why McCoy took the trouble of bringing Sarek to the lab too, since testing with Anitra was enough. McCoy can't tell him the real reason. So yeah, there's something curious going on here. Is Anitra a genuine love interest for McCoy? Or is she being used as a device to underline Spock and McCoy's closeness (in a similar way that the woman in the novel "Triangle" was used, to emphasize the same between Kirk and Spock)?

On a lesser note, there's a bit of McKirk if you want. Kirk and McCoy are given the same guest room while staying at Sarek's house (though we don't know if they shared a bed or not). Which is frankly unnecessary; the author invented a separate guest room for Anitra, so it's not like she couldn't have invented a further room in the house, right? The way that possessed Kirk talks to McCoy is also kind of... suggestive:

"If we need to take someone, we take her. If we don't need to take someone, we can still use him... for other purposes." He smiled menacingly at McCoy, who quickly lowered his eyes. "We don't just... leave him alone."

And later:

He leered at them. "I want you to think--really think about what happened to people on this ship who were uncooperative." "Such as al-Baslama," said Spock coldly, "and Liu..." The remark seemed to please rather than anger him. "To mention only two. We don't need you, gentlemen. But we can use you… at our leisure, and for our own pleasure." His chilling smile was the last thing McCoy saw as they left the bridge.

Sure, it's the parasites talking, and not the real Kirk. But they don't seem to say these things to others, or while possessing other people.

[starfall-spirit]

AN: So, what if my patience is fried and I decided to post a couple of days ahead of schedule. Again, Happy Holidays to those who celebrate, but especially to @eat0crow, my giftee for the @acotargiftexchange! I have been plotting this from the moment I was given a name and have been so excited to share this fic with everyone. To those of you who enjoy mythology as much as I do, here's chapter one of my ACOTAR Secret Santa submission, the embellished retelling of Perseus and Andromeda.

Just before we get started, thank you so much @thelovelymadone and @reverie-tales for being amazing betas and soothing my doubts about the fic. Y'all are the best! 💕

Read on Ao3

Ancient Myths Retold Masterlist

Summary: An irksome trip to the Summer Court on matters of business and assistance against a threat at sea takes an interesting turn when Rhys discovers the solution to Nostrus' problem no longer lies with his army, but a female sacrifice, bound at high tide in hope of appeasing the beast terrorizing Nostrus' shores. He certainly never predicted the rescue mission would result in an accepted mating bond.

Chapter I: The Damsel & the Serpent

Rhysand

Rhysand had never felt so close to falling asleep at a meeting, and growing up in his father’s Court of Nightmares, that was saying something. At least there, brutality kept things from being uneventful. But here in the Summer palace, there was nothing to turn his stomach but overseasoned trout and the High Lord’s too-sweet wine. It was times like these he truly dreaded his looming title and birthright.

Suppressing a sigh, he maintained his mask, nodding along and smiling when necessary whilst making the remarks expected to establish he cared about the nonsense Nostrus was set on arranging. Small talk and an offering of reward for the high demand the male was procrastinating. Forces from the strongest army on their continent to subdue the creature butchering his soldiers and citizens. There was no bravery or gall in cooperating with the cruel court from the north. The male was just covering his ass and calling it an alliance.

But then, wasn’t that the truth of most deals?

Still, his desperation was clear, if the setting around him was anything to go by. High quality tapestries hung from each pillar making up the veranda they dined in, Not the typical everyday decor of the court. The dining table was set for something much grander than a business dinner, when one considered the fine linen tablecloth, crystal glasses, and polished silver.

If his father were present, Rhys was certain he’d be so amused by the effort he’d spend the evening toying with his Summer counterpart.

“Rhysand, I suppose I can’t beat around the bush forever. Would you consider—” Nostrus paused in his inquiry, his attention diverted by a member of his inner circle approaching the edge of the veranda. There was a nervous glint in the captain’s eyes as he scurried over to whisper in his High Lord’s ear, his voice almost quiet enough for Rhys to miss the short message delivered. “The Archeron girl has been captured. High tide is less than two hours away.”

Something twisted in Rhys’ gut, his protective instincts rising as he watched the High Lord’s jaw tighten. Apparently they wouldn’t be discussing the looming topic of the aid Nostrus needed so desperately. “Thank you.” Clearing his throat, he swiped his napkin over his mouth before standing. “If you’ll excuse me, Rhysand, perhaps we can finish this discussion in the morning. I have something rather urgent to attend to.”

“Of course, Nostrus. Tomorrow.” The moment the Summer males turned their backs he was past the flimsy mental shield the captain maintained. One glimpse was all it took to explain the tension the message brought. As Nostrus had wined and dined him, his second in command was sending an innocent female to her death. Rhys didn’t recognize her, and he’d been bred to accept any and all brands of cruelty, yet he’d sooner slit his own throat than let them succeed in killing her. 

He winnowed back to the guest room he’d been shown to earlier that day, finding his brother snooping about, as he expected. “Uh oh, I know that face,” Cassian said, smirking. “Who do I get to punch?”

“No one yet. I only know half of what’s happening. First and foremost, this will be a rescue mission. The punching can come later.”

Cassian paused, setting the trinket he was fiddling with back on the dresser. “Rescue? Rescue who, Rhys? What happened at that dinner?”

“A girl they mean to drown at high tide, a little over an hour from now. I need you to create a distraction.”

He grinned wider than ever. “How big a distraction?”

“Big enough to drag a High Lord away from the female he intends to murder this fine evening. And get us home before he can think about retaliating or sending blood rubies for stealing her away.” 

Cassian nodded, and despite the utter glee he found on his brother’s face, he knew he was in the mindset of a general. That ability to flip from fool to soldier so seamlessly was what put him above the others he'd grown up with in Windhaven, and another reason he would be in a position of command when Rhys eventually filled his father's shoes. Cassian tapped the siphons he had put back on his hands, nodding sharply as the dark armor rolled over his body, better to hide his position in the late evening. “You go find your damsel, Rhys. I’ll handle the diversion. Give me twenty minutes.”

He appreciated the fact Cassian hadn’t pushed for more information, or tried to talk him out of this. It was certainly crossing lines, meddling in another court’s business, but he had seen too many innocent people die for those who consider themselves more powerful. He didn’t need any more information than what he gathered in that glimpse behind the captain’s shield. It was enough to know staying out of the equation would damn him more than any meddling would.

He’d grant the female sanctuary, if she wished, and he highly doubted Nostrus was strong or stupid enough to push any harder, water beast be damned. At least, he hoped.

He winnowed to where the waves would reach highest, pausing when he heard the familiar voice of the Summer Lord. "Has running ever done any good?" The female beside him clenched her jaw, holding the High Lord's gaze. A brazen thing, Rhys could already tell. One who didn't apologize for actions she deemed appropriate. She didn't appear to be one to beg, either, even as the cold iron clamped down over her wrists and ankles and the ocean tide lapped at her bare legs. Simple enough for Rhys to unlock with a little magic. "Did you really think you could free yourself of this?" Nostrus pried, trying to get under her skin.

"I think it's pathetic you resort to this, killing innocents rather than face the beast born of your selfishness."

The sea serpent sated by sacrifice, one Summer citizen at a time. Rhys didn't bother denying his curiosity any longer, slipping into the female's mind. Deep down she was terrified, understandably, but above that was simple frustration. Her attempt to best the beast herself had only intrigued the creature, and she'd been deemed the next offering. She had run, to her shame. But when the entirety of her potential was to be fed to a monster or married off to another sort, running had seemed like the best option. Rhys withdrew after that, his attention returning to Nostrus who had ignored the jab, watching the waters begin to rise and churn. "High tide draws near. Any last words, Lady Archeron?" She turned her face from his grasp. "Pity. Here I thought you the most clever of your family. Very well."

"I've got a few for you, Nostrus." The girl snapped her gaze over her shoulder and his breath caught. She was truly the most beautiful female he'd ever laid eyes on, blue eyes shining beneath the moon, her golden-brown hair curling with the sea mist. A soft, blooming pressure began to grow in his chest, building, morphing into a glowing thread of gold. Wide-eyed, lips parted, Rhys knew she had recognized him as well. Imagined the future they were one step from loosing. "Get your hands off of my mate."

~~~~~

Feyre

Mates. It seemed like a rather insignificant detail in a situation where she was chained up as a sacrifice, and yet it was all she could focus on. Lady Luck must truly hate her if this was her fate. Meeting the most stunning man she'd ever laid eyes on—who looked deliciously feral with the need to protect her—and yet she was set to die only moments later. And she thought marrying a High Lord's son was the cruelest challenge she'd face.

Nostrus gave her mate a pleased smile. "She is a citizen of Summer until she meets her betrothed at the altar. With her as such, I still have the authority to demand that she... aid her court when necessary. But I'll tell you what. If you can get those chains open before the hunt begins, I'll let you sweep her off to Night. You would of course be responsible for breaking the news to her parents and fiance, but that's really of no interest to me. Good luck."

Her mate let out a soft growl as Nostrus winnowed away, but quickly refocused himself to assess the aged metal binding her to the rock. "They're warded or charmed or something," she said softly. "I have simple magic, enough to unlock things. If it were that easy to escape, the serpent would never eat." 

"Hey." He gripped her chin, raising her eyes to meet his at last, the peculiar violet of his eyes made all the more beautiful in the dark of night. "Tell me your name."

"Feyre Archeron."

"Feyre." Gods, the way that rolled off his tongue. "Feyre darling, no matter what happens in these waters, you will not die today. I won't allow it." She scoffed. Well, one certainly couldn't deny his hubris. "We'll talk about my hubris when the beast is dead, love."

"How did you—daemati—I knew you couldn't be entirely perfect."

"Feyre darling, you wound me." Before either of them could resume their banter the sea began to churn, an otherworldly shriek piercing the air that had her wishing she could cover her ears. Her mate, still nameless, to her displeasure, raised his weapon just before the sea monster broke the surface, rows of razor-sharp teeth bared as it reared up, catching the scent of its next meal. "It's Rhys, if you must know!"

"Get out of my head!"

He chuckled, winnowing and lunging faster than she could blink, drawing another ear-rupturing cry from the serpent as his sword found a weakspot between a cluster of dark scales. By the Mother, she felt worthless here, not that a bow and arrow would do her much good against a creature like that. Iron seemed much more suitable in this fight. Rhys really was marvelous to watch, his pattern of winnowing and striking had originally been an effort to distract the creature from her vulnerable position, but he had actually started landing solid blows, the churning waters—now level with her breasts—stained pink as the beast's blood was diluted. The rest happened in bits and pieces, yet all at once.

Twin blurs of gray raced over the body of the water serpent and up to it's massive head, summoning another roar, claws sinking into the soft flesh of it's glowing eyes. Wounded and with only its scent and poor hearing, if her research promised anything, the serpent had lost its advantage. 

The spell of her rising hope was broken as slimy, webbed fingers closed around her arms. She screamed at the feeling, drawing Rhys' attention. An unaffordable error, as the tail of the beast whipped across its body, throwing Rhys several yards to the left and under the waves. Gods, if he'd hit his head they'd both drown. A moment later he broke the surface to her relief, his attention torn between Feyre and the recovering creature he meant to fight with his sword, and apparently, shadow magic.

"Our repayment, Lady Feyre," one wraith hissed. "For your kindness at the Tithe." Miraculously, the four cuffs fell open.

"Thank you."

"Our sister's debt is repaid."

"Swim to shore!" Rhys barked. 

"But—"

"You have no weapon and your mind is not clear. I won't be focused either knowing you're in danger. Find my brother, on land. He has Illyrian wings and bears red siphons. He will help you."

Knowing she would only be a hindrance in this state, she obeyed, even as guilt weighed heavier and heavier with each step. She'd just reached shore when the massive tower at the center of the city—their most ancient monument—rained down in a blast of stone and sand, a red wave of killing power the only culprit in sight. 

This Illyrian was a dead man walking. 

She watched, wide-eyed and fearful for him as he took flight, the towns-people still in chaos. Only a moment later he landed beside her, scattering sand in every direction as he smoothed his shoulder-length hair back. "Judging by the fact you look just washed up, I'm guessing you're Feyre. The bastard finally found his mate," he marveled. 

"Go help him." His eyes widened. "You have a weapon. Go help him kill that—" One last crash of the waves revealed the creature sinking beneath the water, presumably dead at last. "He actually killed it."

Seconds later, Rhys winnowed to shore, landing between them. "The city monument?" he blurted. "You realize you will never be welcome here again, don't you?"

The Illyrian smirked. "That's alright. Too warm for my tastes anyways. I much prefer the north."

Rhys shook his head, smirking right back. "Come on. Let's go home."

~~~~~

Taglist: @lulling-night-sky // @edgyellie // @shallyne // @the-lonelybarricade // @darling-archeron // @goddess-aelin // @the-lost-changeling // @faeriequeensuriel // @pandavelaris // @s-uppertime // @elentiya-whitethorn // @acotar-fanns // @jealousveronya // @acourtofwips // @reverie-tales // @gwynkyrie // @corcracrow // @thelovelymadone // @rosanna-writer

[catreginae]

Thou Shalt Not Fall: Dungeon Crawl

Warriors gets to actually explore a dungeon for the first time and he's not impressed. His determination to speed up the process leads Warriors to discover new things about himself. I got some ideas for this chapter from nitroish! It also won a tumblr poll, so it goes up now! Surprise!

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View the Master Post here!

If there was one thing that Warriors was thankful for, it was that he didn't have to deal with dungeons at home. That wasn't to say that the war was a pleasant alternative but at least the fate of Hyrule didn't depend on his ability to transverse an ancient, decrepit temple because he was pretty sure his skill set wasn't exactly suitable for it.

He was more than happy to let the others lead the way, now that he was physically able to explore one with them. Apparently, letting the others lead the way actually meant studying the architecture while the group studied the room and debated on how to solve the puzzle if the solution wasn't immediately obvious to the veterans. He liked a good problem that needed to be solved – that was the basis of strategies. However, Warriors just found that he wasn't that interested in the puzzles the dungeon had to offer.

"Not a dungeon guy, are you?" Wild asked suddenly, breaking Warriors away from his one-sided staring contest with a wall.

"Nah. Some confusing fort layouts, maybe, but nothing on this scale. What about you?"

"I had shrines, and mobile fortresses called the divine beasts. They required me to think outside the box sometimes but the shrines are more like... a couple of rooms of a temple at most. The divine beasts were like a small temple, I guess? Either way, this is a lot bigger."

Well, at least he wasn't entirely alone in feeling at least a little bit out of place.

"Oh, we're moving on."

Warriors followed the group into a new room that was rectangular shaped, with a locked door to his left, some sort of indentation in the wall in front, though it was too high up for him to see what that was all about, and a regular door with a regular handle to his right. There were no monsters in the room to speak of.

Legend was busy looking at the map.

"Our key is up there. In the indentation."

"You sure?"

"The compass says so."

Warriors tuned out their conversation to turn his attention to the locked door. Maybe they could skip the key entirely if he could just destroy the door. However, he began to doubt himself when he realized that the door was thick metal and the door had an internal lock. He had superhuman strength but there was a limit as to what he could do with it. He could try to break it, but he didn't exactly feel like breaking a bone if he was right about the door being too thick. He wanted to be able to get through at least one dungeon without breaking a bone. His track record wasn't great so far.

"To get back there, we would have to go through three more rooms and then the way up would be in the fourth," Legend mumbled. "I don't think there's any treasure chests in those three rooms and nothing that looks like a miniboss room. If we got that chest now, we could skip all those rooms."

"Wild, Warriors, I think you two would be our best shot. We don't have a hookshot or clawshot target, so that's out of the question. I think it's down to Wild being able to climb up or Warriors being able to jump," Four said.

Wild wasn't the kind to say no when he somebody told him to go climb something, so he all but ran to the wall, running his hands over the texture. After a moment, he turned around and shook his head. "It's too smooth for me to climb. I'm pretty good but this is like the walls in the shrines. Somebody thought ahead."

"Wars?"

He eyed the distance. He was pretty sure that it was too high for him to jump, even with his vampire powers. It wouldn't be a problem if he had more of the same kind of powers that the real vampires had because they could walk on walls and ceilings like they were floors. Or fly. If he could just do one of those things, he could get the key and they would be one step closer to getting the fuck out there.

His gaze caught Time's.

"You can do it."

Warriors wasn't sure if Time knew he was thinking about the wall crawl, or if he really did think he could jump that high. Regardless, he wasn't going to learn anything if he didn't at least try to jump and see how high he could get. Maybe somebody had something that could cover the gap.

"Here goes nothing," Warriors muttered, mostly to himself, as he pushed his fangs out and retreated to the back wall to give himself a running start. He counted down to three in his head, then ran as fast as he could towards the wall.

He jumped.

And didn't get anywhere near the top. He got maybe three quarters of the way there before he found himself bracing his hands and feet against the wall as he started to slide down.

No no no no.

He gritted his teeth, letting himself hiss under his breath. He wasn't going to lose his progress. Warriors was going to get to the top so they could all leave the damn temple and he could get on with his day. He wasn't going to sit through through four more rooms just to get the key when it was right there mocking him.

Suddenly he stopped sliding, staying completely planted in the middle of the wall with nothing holding him there. Somebody below him gasped.

Was this it? Was this really it? Could he actually have more vampire powers than he thought?

Warriors removed one hand and when he stayed where he was, he removed the other. His feet remained where they were at, planted flat against the wall. He let out a breath he didn't know he was even holding.

More confident, he stood up, ignoring the strange change in perspective. Instead, he chose to focus on his feet, focusing on walking and tuning out everything around him. Before he knew it, he could see the chest, so he quickly stepped over to it and opened it up before any higher being decided to change their mind about giving him more powers. With the key in hand, he walked back to the edge of the platform and jumped down to meet the others, ignoring the pain shooting up his legs but the pain wasn't agonizing so he figured they weren’t broken. He was too excited to let the pain sour his mood.

"Wars! That was soooo cool!" Wind exclaimed as Legend swiped the key out of his hands. He could tell by the look on the veteran's face that he was also curious about what he just saw but he was also just eager to move on. Finally, they were picking up the pace. "What was that?"

"We'll talk later. Let's just focus on the dungeon first," Warriors answered as the door was opened and everybody began to file into the next room.

After another hour of exploring, they killed some giant skeletal creature and Legend was the proud owner of a whip, which was all well and good considering he never quite took his eyes off of Sky's whip. He was testing it out just a few feet away from their campsite but he clearly needed some more practice with it. Sky was with him, his own whip in hand as he gave Legend some tips.

Warriors was debating on whether he was going to hunt or beg Wild to have some bottled blood. He wasn't sure if his exhaustion had anything to do with the powers he just discovered but he hated feeling tired when the sun was just starting to set. That was supposed to be his awake time!

"Hey, you can sleep after you explain yourself."

"I thought you were playing with your new toy."

"It's story time now."

Warriors sat up a little straighter when he realized that everybody was looking at him. He took a breath and collected himself.

"The vampires call it wall crawling. They can walk on any solid surface by ‘sticking’ to the surface, essentially. They don’t need it on the ground obviously but they can walk up walls and stand on ceilings. It's something I knew they could do but I thought that being half vampire meant that I wouldn't be able to do it."

"That's so much better than my climbing skills."

"Nah, your climbing skills are actually pretty impressive. You're the only the Hylian I know who could climb such steep surfaces with little to no gear," Warriors said. "Vampires use magic whereas you are just full of skill and the determination to get where you want to go."

Wild beamed.

"Wars, have you thought that you couldn't possibly have more powers than the strength and speed this whole time?" Hyrule asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Warriors nodded. "They tried to get me to do the same things they were doing, for a quite a while, but I struggled to do any of it. There was no sign that I had anything other than the strength and speed. I just gave up and figured it wasn't meant to be. I'm not even very good at magic in the first place. All I had before turning was my focus spirit, but that just enhances my muscles and my ability to hone in on a weakness."

"Being physically able to do magic is only part of how magic works. If you are physically able, and learned how to do it, most of the fight is intention. You kept telling yourself that you couldn't, so you basically made sure that you wouldn't be able to. Whatever you were feeling today while you were doing it, keep that with you and think about it every time you want to do it."

The captain could only blink at Hyrule. He was the most skilled with magic so Warriors knew he should take his words to heart, but it was also something he just had to give himself a moment to process.

It didn't help that the vampires couldn't exactly explain how to do it either, not that he blamed them. It came naturally to them, so it must have felt like they were trying to teach somebody how to breathe. Even the most basic abilities, like the ability to retract his fangs hadn’t come naturally to him. He supposed that in hindsight, he should have been able to see that just because it didn't come naturally didn't mean that those powers were completely inaccessible. He was just too frustrated at the time, much like he was getting frustrated just thinking about it again.

It was irritating that he just gave up like that. He had no plans to use his powers back then, even if he could use them, simply because he hated the fact that he was a vampire at all. However, it just wasn't like him to have given up so easily.

His frustration must have been palpable because Hyrule raised his hands in front of him. "Wars-"

"It wasn't anything you said," Warriors replied, running a hand through his hair. "I'm just overthinking something..."

Thankfully, he didn't have to think about the memories anymore because he was joined by Wind, who came bursting into his personal space to access his ear. "When you start using your new power to prank somebody, let me know. I want in."

Oh.

OOOH.

Fun fact about this chapter: some of it was written while I was struggle with The Past: Teaching Old Vampires New Trick. I think I finished this one before I finished The Past arc, so I really made sure to make Warriors doubt himself and his powers in The Past so he could get mad at himself here. This story is still largely episodic but is still sequential in nature as far as the current timeline goes, so I do my best to make sure previous events or discoveries kind of inform the collective knowledge of the chain. I can move chapters up and down fairly easily but I still have to make sure the collective knowledge still makes sense. I feel like this is a big moment so I will definitely have to do a thorough review of all unpublished and still in progress chapters to see if this power is actually useful in other circumstances. It feels like I'm playing chess against myself sometimes.

[simcardiac-arrested]

anyways more about blossoms

She was very much a god. Her chamber was split in to two sections, one area for her to work on the solution in and one that was built to be a church of sorts. She was perceived as a god to her people and became a place of worship. I like the idea that ancients had 10 day weeks to fit the 10 karma levels, with 5 and 10 being the most holy. There were always at least a few people coming in to pray and confess to her on each day but days 5 and 10 were very busy. This then put a lot of stress on her to both excuse them of their karmatic sins and to help them avoid them in the future and to work on the Great Problem. She was often left offerings and gifts in return and was often unsure on what do do with them because of karma 3 if im remembering correctly. She pretty much forced herself herself to indulge in her own work and ignore others, she wasn't very well known amongst her local group apart from the unnamed guy from before, who was pretty much the only iterator she allowed herself to become attached to, both because of Karma reasons but also because she was very used to people she connected with disappearing without warning. She was overworking herself a looot during this which put a lot of stress on herself and her superstructure.

When the ancients all ascended she felt sick. She had failed them. She hadn't found the answer. She couldn't help them enough. She was the one to blame, she was the one who was made to help them the most. Without the ancients around she pretty much only spoke to the unnamed guy (im so bad at names aaa ) in-between cycles and cycles of silence, purely working on the solution and nothing else. Sometime during one of her Too Many Cycles Without A Rest bouts she accidently forwarded her message logs with them to like. every iterator within a certain radius. Rather than interpreting this as an 'oh i overworked myself into a silly mistake' she interpreted it as 'i am being punished for perusing the 5 natural urges i need to cut of the one person who i allowed into my life and talk to' which pretty mcuh meant the only thing she could do was work and work and work and maybe occasionally read the public broadcasts to see if anyone is getting any closer to the solution. She was so so so relived when SOS originally broadcasted the solution, albeit a bit disappointed that it wasnt her that found it. she allowed herself to rest, waiting for the triple affirmative to be performed. she waited. and waited. and waited. and waited. it didnt come. she scoured through messages, wondering if maybe she had posted it, maybe sos was just waiting to see if everyone was ready, maybe she needed confirmation on one thing. but nothing. she waited for SOS to respond, saying that something had gone wrong. that she made a mistake. that there was one small thing stopping it from working. there was nothing. she never went online again, no one heard from her again. she had died. was

She doubled down on her work after this, now knowing that it was possible and someone had found it, it had just been used too soon, or something went slightly wrong, thats all. She was horrified to learn of Sliverists, the iterators who thought it was just death. thats it. nothing else. That going against every word said about the ancients was the solution. because why would it be? why would it EVER be that simple? Why would she have spent so long working on this, isolating herself, dedicating every single fibre of her being onto working on something that was as simple as the first curve on the ring of the cruelty that everyone was stuck on?

anyways *slaps her over the head* this thing can hold so much trauma

YESSSSS GO MENTALLY UNSTABLE WOMAN GO!!

[minti-tales]

FFXIV Write, Day 11: Once Bitten, Twice Shy

Minti Chocolate spends time away from The Knightly Mother.

I need time away from you.

From me? Is our compromise not enough? Colour me surprised.

We made our peace with each other. I don't need you to hold the reins right now. Let me breathe.

And what, pray tell, will you be doing with all your time away from me? No more running away from our villains? Please tell me you plan on doing something constructive.

Oh, I do. I have a list. "Things that Got Away from Me."

A list, she says. I am doing my best to fight the urge to critique it, I assure you. Since, as you said, you need a break from me.

First, I'm going to Costa Del Sol.

The beach? Whatever for?

I promised someone a dance. They're at the beach in Costa Del Sol, waiting for me.

In all my time with you, my Warrior of Light, I have heard naught more strange than that. Go. I will be here if you need to call on me.

-----

Lightning cracked across the sky at Costa Del Sol, a fierce accent to the driving rain that turned the usually beautiful locale into a miniature monsoon. Even from out here, up by the hills with wild cattle huddled together for warmth, Minti Chocolate could see specks of glittering reds and golds, and feathers tossed about on the wind. Troupe Falsiam was here, that was good. They must not have moved about much since the last time she was here. Hopefully Minti would not be recognized in the rain, and could just slip through the musicians without recognition. All she needed to do was find Ranaa, and surely, surely her extreme tardiness would be forgiven.

Right. Here goes.

With every step Minti took, came the threat of being sucked down by soaking wet sand. Perhaps wearing her knight's armor in a torrential rain storm wasn't such a good idea. Upon further reflection, yes, this was a terrible idea, especially since the Troupe's musicians, all seated by one of the seaside bars, were beginning to stare at her. One of them gave a sharp whistle and wave towards the quieter part of the beach. So much for sneaking by, right?

I would love to give you the solution to this little problem, but, I am afraid that I am not available right now. Oh, and do look behind you, Minti.

What?

I warned you. Good luck.

Minti felt her shoulder being tapped, rather sharply at that. A quick turn around revealed a hyur woman on the older side, with greying brown hair and black glasses that were rapidly getting wet. She might have been on the smaller side, at least compared to Minti, but that didn't make her any less intimidating.

Nashmeira, the principal dancer and leader of Troupe Falsiam, looked up at the armored Viera with daggers in her eyes. At least, that's what it felt like. "Miss Chocolate," she said with quiet authority, looking her wayward performer up and down. "It has been *some* time since I've seen you. You look well."

"You're looking wet. Ma'am." Minti turned her head in the direction of the bar. A drink would be just perfect right about now. "Fancy finding you here! Isn't it...great..."

"As I recall, and I do recall correctly, you mentioned that you needed to assist the Scions with some business regarding primals."

"Yes, ma'am."

"And then you did not return, for some time." Nashmeira brushed rain drops from her hair. "Until today."

"Until today, yes ma'am." Would the sand just hurry up and swallow Minti already, please!

No authority over the elements, dear.

You don't need to take this embarrassment. Tell her off and leave. Are you really going to take this dressing-down, bound soul to mine?

I know you're afraid, Marget. Make an excuse and go. You don't need to be here if you're going to fail again.

"I take your returning to mean you still wish to stay in the Troupe? That you want to re-learn how to dance our ancient arts?" Nashmeira gestured over towards an umbrella, away from the pouring rain. "We can talk more where we won't catch our death of cold. Come."

"Yes, ma'am."

The two dancers - one principal, one up-and-coming - spent the rest of the storm catching up, talking about all the accomplishments Minti had made since the day she left Costa Del Sol. It became clear that Nashmeira wasn't angry, more just concerned that she had done something to drive a dancer with such potential away. There would time for forgiveness, if Minti wished for it. "I know that Ranaa would be overjoyed to see you again," Nashmeira said. "She has talked ever so much about you, in your absence.

Now, I've said my piece, Miss Chocolate. What of you? Will you come back?"

-----

The next morning, along the beach at Costa Del Sol, a beautiful viera dressed in fiery reds and golds, with two silver chakrams at her side, spun in joyful partnership with the rising sun.

The dance had begun again.