#chosen realm

[youngpettyqueen]

one of the funniest things about Star Trek is how it either nails the "at what point do you become the very thing youre fighting?" concept right on the head or it completely fucking flubs it by going "hello oppressed minority, did you know youre just as bad as your oppressors?"

[starplusfourletters]

T’POL NO

T’POL WHAT THE HELL

NECK PINCH, T’POL! NECK PINCH!

[sshbpodcast]

The Worst Season of All of Star Trek?

by Ames

What’s the worst season of all of Trek? Season 3 of TOS? Season 2 of Picard? All of The Animated Series? Well your hosts at A Star to Steer Her By have a contender. We just finished our watchthrough of season 3 of Enterprise, and if we were mostly unimpressed by the first two seasons, we downright abhorred this one. For a season that’s ultimately one great big 9/11 allegory, it forgets what sci-fi in general – and Star Trek in particular – is meant to do with topical politics: use your imaginative medium to make people ask the Big Questions™.

This season doesn’t do that. 

Instead of pushing themes like what is moral and right during a time of terrorism and war, Enterprise spends most of the time letting Archer unapologetically commit war crimes with the underlying current of “it may not be nice, but it’s necessary.” Well, is it? It’s not until very late in the season that he even feels bad about all the people he manipulates, tortures, or kills. Among some truly, truly cynical episodes, there are still some diamonds, but we’ll let our Tops and Bottoms Lists make those arguments. So dive into the Delphic Expanse with us as we high- and lowlight this season below and listen to our scathing arguments on this week’s podcast episode (blast over to 38:19). America! Fuck Yeah!

[images © CBS/Paramount]

Top Three Episodes

That’s not to say the season is not 100% trash. There’s actually some good stuff in here – in fact, some of the best episodes of Enterprise we’ve seen so far, sprinkled throughout some otherwise drek concepts.

“The Shipment”: Ames One shining light in the early episodes comes in the one-off character Gralik Durr. He’s a Xindi-Arboreal who reminds Archer, as bluntly as he can, that not all Xindi should be considered responsible for the atrocities that are being committed by the Council, which is just what we needed to hear amongst a lot of episodes of Archer racially profiling people for things they have no control over. Thank you, Gralik.

“Proving Ground”: Caitlin You just can’t go wrong with a Shran episode. Jeffrey Combs was the breath of fresh air we pined for in a handful of bleak, exhausting, morally repulsive episodes we’d been saddled with. Is it contrived? Yes. Is there any good reason for Shran to be in the Delphic Expanse? Absolutely not. But what a freaking delight to watch Shran pretend to represent an Andorian Mining Consortium. Full marks; no notes.

“Azati Prime”: Jake It finally feels like something is happening in this season-long plot at about episode 18, when some consequential actions transpire. That’s three-quarters of the way through the season, mind you, but who’s counting? (I am.) We reach the Xindi weapon, Archer gets captured trying to kamikaze the thing, and there’s some really great ship battle. It’s also the first time Archer shows remorse for all the harm he’s caused.

“The Council”: Chris The homestretch of the season has picked up the pace in this whole Xindi War arc, and thank goodness. So much time was spent spinning its wheels that it felt like a success to have so much plot development in the last couple of episodes of the season. And finally (FINALLY), Archer switches this mission to one of diplomacy and collaboration instead of rage and torture. It feels like Star Trek for the first time in a while.

“Countdown”: Chris Same deal here as in “The Council.” We’re close to the end, so things are speeding to the resolution. Plot elements are getting tied up, the Xindi Council is way more fleshed out by now, and every decision has consequences for a change. Dolim and the other Reptilians also up the stakes by taking matters into their own hands, solidifying the realness of the threat of the weapon that was nebulous up to this point.

“Twilight”: Ames, Caitlin, Jake We get a good amount of agreement for this genuinely impressive, well-written, well-acted episode that deviates a little from the Xindi plot while also fitting into the season perfectly. The idea of the interspatial parasites causing Archer to lose his short-term memory is a great sci-fi concept, and the resolution is so clever that we’re fully onboard for a full reset ending that, in less skilled hands, would seem convenient.

“Similitude”: Ames, Caitlin, Chris, Jake But the episode that gets the vote of all of your SSHB hosts is a new twist on the “Tuvix” dilemma. Connor Trineer absolutely goes all out as his duplicate, Sim, and we feel devastated at the end when the inevitable occurs. Archer and Phlox are, frankly, monsters to do this to a person; there’s no debate on that. But what we walk away with is a heart-wrenching acting showcase for all the different Trip iterations we meet.

—

Bottom Three Episodes

And now, what we’re all here for: shitting on all the bad things from this morally reprehensible season. From all the war crimes, to the racial profiling, to the missed opportunities and even more recycled shots, this season just plain has so many low points.

“Doctor’s Orders”: Jake Like how “E²” is just DS9’s “Children of Time” but with Enterprise paint (and not as good), this episode is just Voyager’s “One” but with Enterprise paint (and also not as good). If you’re going to entirely rehash a story your franchise has already done, at least change it up a little. Watching Phlox and T’Pol wander around while everyone else is put under just makes you think, “Dang, Jeri Ryan did this way better.”

“Chosen Realm”: Caitlin Every so often, Star Trek tries to make a point about religion and faith as compared to the science and logic of its main characters, and this is one of those times it bungles it. Like with Voyager’s “Sacred Ground,” this one doesn’t quite make the argument it thinks it’s making. And then it manages to somehow make a joke of all of it by having the religious factions be at war over something purely trivial. Blah.

“Rajiin”: Caitlin We could have called a mile away that Rajiin was up to no good and saving her was going to be a mistake. And it’s not like we were really missing watching T’Pol getting sexually assaulted all the time like in “Fusion” – we really didn’t need yet another oversexed scene of her getting pawed at by some villain or other. Everything was just predictable, boring, and repetitive.

“Carpenter Street”: Jake As if we haven’t had enough mind-boggling time travel from the Temporal Cold War arc, Daniels has to drop by and stir up shit again. There’s just something dissatisfying about the Detroit plot. The Reptilians’ need for all the blood types is just contrived. Bringing T’Pol of all people is just begging for Vulcan shenanigans. The whole thing should be Daniels’s problem and he refuses to do jack about it!

“North Star”: Ames As an episode that’s “Spectre of the Gun” meets “The Paradise Syndrome,” this one probably belonged in The Original Series. A Cowboys-and-Indians story feels entirely out of place in the current era of Trek, and that’s all the more bolstered by the fact that we’re in the middle of the Xindi arc and take a week off to dress up in spurs and ride horseys. The anti-racist message also seems just too easy, especially considering how racist Archer is being the rest of this season.

“Damage”: Chris Archer makes a lot of deplorable decisions this season. From ordering the Sim clone made in “Similitude,” to memory-wiping Degra in “Strategem,” to torturing that Osaarian pirate from “Anomaly,” to treating the first Xindi we meet in “The Xindi” like trash, he’s a bad captain. But stealing from the Illyrians might take the cake because these people were innocent and Archer acts like it was necessary. Oh, and making T’Pol a junkie was a weird writing choice.

“Hatchery”: Ames, Caitlin, Chris For once Archer is in the right in this episode! Purely incidentally, he’s advocating for treating the Xindi-Insectoid babies like people and not letting them die, and the rest of the crew mutinies because he’s not committing enough war crimes. But the episode undoes what could have been a moral lesson by having Archer’s mind be compromised, and it makes me throw things because they were this close, people!

“Harbinger”: Ames, Chris, Jake When the constant sexualizing of T’Pol is actually the highlight of your episode, you know you’ve done fucked up. First, we’ve got Reed being a Big Baby™ about Major Hayes being insubordinate – something that comes entirely out of left field. But even worse than that is Archer finding a being in some anomaly and deciding to torture him. We’ve never even met his kind before and his first impulse is to treat him like the enemy with absolutely no proof. God, I hate this season.

—

Purportedly season four actually starts to pick up, so what do you all think? Was this the lowest of the low? Is it all [relatively] uphill from here? Find out as we continue to watch through Enterprise on SoundCloud (or wherever you podcast). Let us know your least favorite season of Trek overall over on Facebook and Twitter, and maybe commit a couple fewer war crimes than Archer. Just a couple.

[quasi-normalcy]

I remember that I liked "Chosen Realm" when it came out, but then I heard a bunch of takes about how it was an overly simplistic depiction of sectarian warfare; but watching it again now, I mostly think that, if anything, it's entirely too charitable in assuming that fundamentalists actually give a shit about any of the things they claim to believe in.

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 317

IMAGINE THIS: Lil baby Damian, bored and being not quite old enough to start learning how to use proper weapons (curse these wooden ones, he wants true steel!) is wandering the base. This is not out of the ordinary, he’s the prince after all. What is out of the ordinary is that his shadow, his Akhi, is not here. 

Technically, he should be napping, but he woke up and neither his mother or his brother- who is quiet but gentle and isn’t a good speaker (mother said it was from a head injury)- is there. Which is how he finds his way to the Pit, which he’s not supposed to be at. Or at least not alone. 

But! His mother and Akhi are there! And- and Akhi is screaming and he’s never heard him scream like that, like he’s in agony- His eyes are green- they were blue, had, had Mother placed him in the Waters- 

And then the pool is bubbling- he should be running away, get assistance or something, he’s five, he shouldn’t be running towards it when everything is screaming to flee. But one moment he’s at the doorway, the next he’s clinging to his akhi as something writhes in the Pit, a mighty bellow echoing even as the Shadows take defensive positions. 

The water cascades, laps at their feet, splashes everywhere as a scaled form rises from the depths, wings like a bloodied sunset spreading as fur bursts into flames. Crimson eyes glare down at them all, pupils slits as they bare down at his Akhi. 

The creature- the dragon- dips its head down, its breath warm as it chuffs at his akhi, wings folding as though it is bowing. His akhi is clinging to Mother, shivering, several scars glowing as they fade and a burst of hair burned white. 

Oh. 

Oh.

@fairy-lights-and-blobs @f4nd0m-fun @hdgnj @radiance1 pspspspsps

[steamclouds]

I regularly think about this. It's so random and out of the blue. My favourite item in Forgotten Realms lore, the heart-shaped locket of friendship.

(Excerpt from R.A. Salvatore's The Halfling's Gem)

[worstloki]

there is a difference between being born to a throne, maliciously vying for a throne, stealing a throne, and having a throne thrust upon you when you are already in the midst of an identity crisis. And I fear Loki's place in the line of succession has people unable to differentiate between any of these

[daemon-in-my-head]

As much as some of the stuff in Realms lore is messed up or has some very clear very outdated views on shit, the way they wrote evil cults and their motivations is actually pretty nice nd I'll give em that.

Like we've got Shar, lady of loss, who appeals to all those people who experienced something unimaginable and want to forget that experience.

Bane, a self made guy, who appeals to all those who came to resent the status quo nd were made to feel powerless, who's cult establishes the idea that everyone can become the game master and rise as long as they're dedicated enough but also gives excuses to the already powerful for abusing their power.

Myrkul who appeals to people in a similar way Shar does, but he has and grants the ability to reverse the loss. Reunite with those you lost before you arrive in the afterlife yourself. Don't fear death because your life will continue the same way it was before even if you die. Basically my guy offers a solution to the whole being afraid of death bit

But the most fucked up one is arguably Bhaal, who targets a very spefic group of people that deem life to be hopeless and death to be the better choice, and introduces them to the idea that this warped mindset is a fact and by killing someone you show them mercy and you can become their hero.

Like these are definitely not the healthiest claims those cults make, and any 'normal' individual would look at u like u have issues if you presented these ideas to them. Still, for a (not very) small group of people, these thoughts validate them in their feelings and struggles and offer a twisted understanding. And that is why recruitment works, and these definitely not-so-nice cults manage to survive and thrive at times. Because they very purposefully target individuals that could be easily manipulated if offered nothing more than some sort of understanding or recognition, and then they built on that. Very much like real life cults did and do in order to establish themselves and gain following.

Like very much fucked up but I can see very well why these cults work, why people join them and how they manage to manipulate their followers into blind loyalty and going above and beyond. The gods they serve and their lil libraries nd stuff may be dorky at times but the cults themselves are nothing besides absolutely terrifying. 11/10 no notes.

[incorrect-dragonquest-quotes]

Serena: Where is Erik? I’ve been searching for him but I can’t find him anywhere

11: Wait I’ve got this.

11: Can someone hold my hand?

Erik, appearing from nowhere: *gently holds 11’s hand* I’m here

[tomurakii]

Look Kristen is a kid so its understandable and Ally is great and I'm sure has a plan for this. But Kristen should not be a cleric lol. I hope that after the wizard synogue incident Cassandra takes the Archfey deal to keep herself safe and Kristen loses her powers because honestly based on her RP that girl has NO wisdom. She has NEGATIVE wisdom. If you don't like the gods currently on offer but can't take responsibility for keeping a new one alive (because you're a kid) then you should just respec. Pick a charisma-based spellcaster class that doesn't require a bunch of work like the Int classes or responsibility like the Wis classes. Give up your soul to Fig (or just give it back to newly-Archfey Cassandra) for Warlock spells idk.

[zelda-the-sacred-realm]

Hero of Hylia

I finally decided to finish this design, I thought about it more times because I wanted to keep it like the original but at the same time make it immediately clear that he is an important spirit, in fact this is the one and only divine spirit!

His task is to protect Hylia, his legend has been passed down through the millennia as the chosen hero who sacrificed his life to save the people remaining in the lands of Hylia.

This should be the final concept (unless I change my mind like the other 100 times it happened 😅)

Hope you like it! 💖

[pinacoladamatata]

the Tav that's out here balduring my gate

[mortiferumsomnum]

HELP! I ACCIDENTALLY GOT ENGAGED TO THE GHOST KING!

EDIT: Masterlist

***

Please excuse the stupid Manhwa title, but Jon is panicking right now. Like, really, really, REALLY panicking.

Damian is going to kill him.

Wait, no.

He’ll save him, AND THEN kill him.

NO.

He’ll save him, become the Ghost King HIMSELF, AND THEN KILL HIM.

Oh man, oh god, oh NO--

“Dude, are you done?��

The very Ghost King he got engaged to is sitting on some kind of bean-bag blob ghost with the most tired expression, like in that one meme. And Jon is the girl that’s crying with his fingers closed together while trying to explain his point.

The blob ghost under the Ghost King made a happy purr.

“Danny, my dude, please, you--- you need to understand. WE ARE ALL ABOUT TO DIE.”

The Ghost King, Danny, huffed in tired amusement. And he was about to say something, but Jon grabbed Danny by the shoulders and glared deep into his eyes. He doesn’t understand. Jon will make Danny understand. 

“Relax,” Danny said before Jon could say anything, phasing out of his hold to float in the air. He crossed his arms behind his head as he yawned. “I mean, what’s he gonna do? Bust in here with a sword and declare a battle for your hand?”

“Yes,” Jon replied without a beat. “He would. That’s exactly what he would do.”

How did Jon even get into this mess in the first place?

***

It had been a beautiful day. The birds were singing, the flowers were blooming, and teens like Jon were happily chatting amongst themselves as they headed home from school. Jon in particular was waiting in the parking lot for Damian to pick him up. He was seated on the wheel-stop, in the place where Damian would usually park his car, looking through his phone while listening to some of his music.

A classmate of his walked up to Jon with a wide smile. He couldn’t remember her name, but he’s seen her in Homeroom and Geometry. He knows that she’s very studious and works well in groups. But Jon hasn’t really interacted with her much... or at all. So, it’s a wonder why she’s coming up to him.

“Hey, Kent!” she greeted, bringing out a piece of paper to show in front of him. A bunch of names and signatures were on it. A few, Jon could recognize from his own classmates.

“We’re signing a petition,” she said, excitedly. “It’s to help keep Coach Harold as our P.E. teacher.”

Jon raised his brow in surprise. “What’s-- uh-- What’s going on? Is he getting fired?” 

He’s such a good teacher! A good coach! He never pushes if it’s out of his classmates’ abilities, and he also makes sure that everyone is safe no matter how easy the activity. He’s patient, understanding, and a lot like Jon’s dad. Well, the man is a fan of Superman, so maybe that’s why? It doesn’t matter! 

His classmate, who he still couldn’t remember the name of, huffed in annoyance. “Apparently, he’s already fired.”

Jon shot up from where he was sitting, almost floating into the air, but catching himself before he could. “What do you mean he was already fired?! What was--- What was he even accused of?!”

“Harming a student.”

“What--”

“Yeah,” his classmate said, huffing. “I heard it from the injured student himself. It wasn’t Coach Harold. The school’s protecting another teacher. I don’t know how to get the other teacher to face consequences, so I asked our homeroom teacher what we could do to keep Coach Harold.”

“And it’s a petition?” Jon asked.

His classmate grinned, showing him the paper once more. “I have five more of these babies in my bag. If you sign, you’re gonna be the 250th signature, Kent!”

Jon reached a hand out, and his classmate let him take the paper. He read the written request at the top, and at the other names and signatures. Then, he brought out a ballpen he kept on himself at all times - a habit he gained from his parents. Without a beat, he signed his name.

“All done,” he said, giving the paper back. His classmate cheered, and looked at the paper in wonder, making Jon chuckle. “But uh...” shoot, he still doesn’t remember her name, “don’t you think this petition would hold more weight if our parents signed it?”

His classmate giggled. And... it wasn’t a nice giggle. This one caused the hair on his arms to raise, a chill to run down his back. She grinned at him, and Jon could see how her skin turned into a pale blue color, her hair turning into flames, and the paper in her hand growing longer and longer with Jon’s name and signature at the very bottom, along with one named Daniel Fenton.

“Jonathan Kent,” her voice wasn’t as cheery anymore. It was mocking. She floated in the air and made the paper disappear in her hands. “Thank you for your cooperation, Future Prince Consort. With this, my job with the Observants are done!”

She rose into the air.

Jon flew into the air to go after her.

And before Jon knew it, she grabbed his arm and made both of them invisible. The world around him passed in a blur until he saw a green, swirling portal. He tried to stop them, tried to pull away, but she only clutched harder, flew faster. He screamed as they entered the portal.

The next thing Jon knew, he was in front of some royal, who looked to be the same age as him. It didn’t matter if he was donned in a cape that seemed to be made of galaxies. It didn’t matter if he also looked as blue as all the other residents in the... palace? Was this a palace? Whatever!

What mattered was that when Jon searched for heartbeats, there was none. No one in this room was alive.

Then, with an echoing laugh, his classmate-turned-crazy-lady disappeared from the room.

“What’s going on?” the royal-looking teen asked.

And, yeah, that’s what Jon wants to know! But, the people around him only bowed in response. “Your Highness,” said the Giant... Yeti? Was that a Yeti?!?!? “We congratulate you on your engagement.”

“Excuse me?” the royal asked, as flabbergasted as Jon was. “I’m only sixteen.”

SO AM I! Jon wanted to scream. 

“Did you not sign a paper from the Matchmaker?” the Yeti asked.

The royal blinked. “Is... that what she was? Also, she said it was a petition.”

EXACTLY! 

Jon felt faint. But also, “What-- What do you mean by Matchmaker?” he asked. Everyone was looking at Jon now, but the royal nodded for him to continue. So, Jon did, his heart beating loudly in his ears. “Don’t they just-- just, y’know-- find matches and stuff? Isn’t the actual engagement planning done by-- by, I dunno, the families??”

The yeti gave Jon a rueful smile. “She doubles as the officiator, unfortunately,” he said. Turning his head towards the King, his face turns apologetic. “She’s been doing this for millennia, Your Highness. The rules for engagement prior marriage has not changed, even as Pariah Dark slept.”

Um, what? Pariah-who-now?

“The only way to cancel this engagement is to rip the contract that had been signed between you.”

Sounds easy enough-- NOT.

The King didn’t seem to be panicking. But, his face did look troubled.

He looked to Jon, then he looked to the people in the large hall. They were all still kneeling. The King raised a hand and, with a loud and booming voice, ordered for all to rise. 

“Frostbite, Fright Knight, stay,” he said. Then to the rest of the people, “All of you, leave. We shall cut our activity short.”

No one complained, all nodding and murmuring in understanding. Jon watched as the people disappeared one by one. There are little, green blobs cleaning up buffet tables by eating the remaining food, and larger blobs eating the tables and chairs. It was bizarre and cute.

After that, the King led Jon to his personal quarters, the Yeti and this Giant Knightly looking dude following after them. It was there that Jon learned that they were not just people, they were ghosts! And that he was in a realm called the Ghost Zone. And that he got engaged to THE Ghost King! 

Sugar honey iced tea, this isn’t good. 

“A ghost marriage,” Jon mumbled hauntingly to himself, holding his head in hands. He was seated on a... beanbag blob ghost that purred and tried swatting at Jon’s ankles with its blobby hand. Jon let it.

The King, who turned out to be the other name at the bottom, Daniel “call me Danny” Fenton, snorted. He was seated on his own blob-bag, sipping some kind of ghost slurpie with a tired look. He was changed into a comfortable looking hoodie and sweats, his socked feet also being swatted by blob hands. “Could be, but it’s not. You’re alive and I’m half-alive.”

This then led to Jon’s panic-fest, which actually lasted for only a few minutes.

****

“We have to find that-- that contract and rip it before Damian gets here,” Jon said. 

Danny nodded. “Agreed,” he said. “Fright Knight is doing his best to track down where the Matchmaker could be. And then, after that, I’m going to make sure to rewrite all these outdated laws one by one. First one I’ll rewrite is the legal age requirement for everything. BTW, my dude, is there a legal age requirement for engagements?”

“Uh... I think it only applies to marriage,” Jon replied, also thoughtful. Then, he sat back down in his blob-bag, which caused the blob to purr and swat at his ankles again. “How long do you think this will take?”

Danny shrugged. “Probably a few hours. Maybe days.”

“And... in the living realm? Or-- or at least, my realm?”

Danny shrugged unhelpfully once more. “Depends. What’s your Realm? The one with Spider-man?”

What. “...Who’s Spider-man?”

“Oh... so, is it the one with Percy Jackson??”

Jon only gave a confused look.

“How about Sonic the Hedgehog?”

“The game?”

Danny sat up with a grin. “Sorry. How about you tell me a famous hero from your Realm.”

“Wait-wait-waiiiiiittt, there are multiple realms? Like--- like, different worlds?!”

“Yeah,” said Danny. “An Infinite amount, actually.” He sipped from his never-ending slurpie cup. “Now, tell me a hero, not-future-consort!”

Jon huffed. Then, he grinned. “Does Superman ring a bell?”

To Jon’s disappointment, there is no ‘Whoa!!! Your Realm has Superman?!’ or ‘So cool! Does Batman also exist in your Realm?! What about the Justice League?!’ 

Instead, Danny nodded. “Good, good. Now, you said that Damian is your boyfriend, so you must be from one of the Minor Realms connected to the Main Realm that it was based off of. In other words - an alternate reality... basically.”

Jon was confused now. “What? Alternate reality? There are more versions of my realm? And, if not Damian, who-- who would be my partner in the Main Realm?”

Danny made a thoughtful look. “I believe it was... Jay Nakamura?”

Jon blinked. “Who’s that?”

Danny waved a hand. “You saved his college from a school shooter. It’s not important to your realm--”

“College?! I’m in high-school!! A Sophomore!!”

“I didn’t look much into his school - it’s probably just called a college and is actually just some K-12 and Higher Education kind of school - but I’m pretty sure he’s just 17--”

“HOW DID DAMIAN TAKE THIS?!”

Danny’s eyes glazed a bit. Then, “He... smiled? Oh, Ancients, that is one scary smile. But, he’s impressed? Jay Nakamura is part of some news site that reports everything the media’s too afraid to report about.”

Jon gaped. Then, he shook his head. “I’ll have you know that Damian smiles all the time! And it’s not scary!”

Danny rolled his eyes. “You’re dating the Beast, dear Belle. You’re already immune. Now, tell me other important things about your realm so that searching through the minor realms would be easier.”

Jon frowned. “How many minor realms are there?”

Danny sighed. “Jon, my dude, imagine the main realm as a movie, or a really good book, or an extremely good comic. And then, the minor realms are the non-canon series or films, comics, or fan-works that surrounds that piece of media. And as you know, people go crazy when it comes to fanworks, am I right? So, can you imagine the thousands of minor realms that are based off of the main realm?”

Yeah. Jon can imagine it. Which causes him to pale. “Will I--- Will I be able to go back?” he asks. 

“Of course,” said Danny, not at all troubled. “It’ll just take me time because I haven’t practiced as much. But, I’ll be able to bring you back once we’re done with all this engagement madness.”

Then, Jon wondered, “Are there also multiple Ghost Zone Realms?”

Danny nodded. “I’m not the only King of the Infinite Realms. There are other versions of myself, as well. Once a Realm exists, there will be alternate realities born from it. Sometimes, even Minor Realms could turn into Main Realms if there are more minor realms born from it.”

“Huh...” Jon said. Then, “What’s the-- um-- Main Realm for this one like?”

Danny smiled. “Apparently, I’m just an ordinary boy with ghost powers, and that’s what a halfa is. But, if you look into its minor realms, most of my alternate selves, and I mean MOST of them, are referred as half-dead and half-alive. Other me’s are tortured, vivisected, and have horrible parents. Honestly, it’s really concerning--- Ah, I think I found it.”

Jon, who was making a very alarmed expression a while ago, now perked up from where he sat on his blob-bag. “What is it? Did you find my realm?”

“I hope so!” Danny said, waving a hand to create a hologram-like image in the air. “Bloodthirsty, yandere-like Damian looking around a school parking lot for clues on where you disappeared to?”

Jon looked closely to Damian. He was talking into his communicator, probably to Batman, while holding on to Jon’s backpack that was left in the parking lot.

“Yeah,” Jon said, a lump in his throat. “That--- That’s him.” 

He watched as Damian yelled into his communicator, obviously alarmed by what was going on. He watched as Superman landed beside Damian, a face full of worry that Jon would only see from his father and never from the Man of Steel. He watches as Kon lands next to Superman, demanding where Jon could be, why they couldn’t hear Jon’s heartbeat.

Jon reached out towards the magical-window-thingy that allowed him to see and hear what they were doing and going to do. But then his hand reached through it, the magic swirling around his fingers.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. The touch was gentle, and he turned to see Danny giving him a soft smile. “I guess time is running the same time as this Realm,” said Danny, causing Jon to huff. Then, he said, more seriously then before, “I’ll get you out of this mess, I promise.”

Jon nodded. “Thanks,” he said.

Danny was about to say something, when, “If anything happens to Jon, I’m going to kill everyone in this world and then myself---”

“Now, Damian--”

“Don’t you ‘Now, Damian’ me, Clone! My beloved is missing, and if I find a single scratch on his body, or a single hair missing, I WILL. KILL. EVERYONE.”

Danny whistled. “Wow. Main-Damian wasn’t so bloodthirsty... Well, anymore. Interesting to know that there’s a Damian that actually enhanced his bloodlust.” 

Then, he made the magical window go away and pulled up two more. “Frostbite, Fright Knight. Please make more of an effort to find the Matchmaker. Danny’s concern about his lover finding the Ghost Realm may actually be possible, I’m afraid.”

“Understood, My King,” said Fright Knight. 

Frostbite hummed thoughtfully. “She’s hiding really well, Your Highness. We’ll be sure to quadruple our efforts.”

Danny nodded and waved the windows away.

Jon sighed, anxiety wracking up once more. Will things be okay?

[alicelufenia]

What follows is a little micro fiction I wrote in a daze at 1am, about my latest Baldur's Gate 3 character Tavierra, cleric of Eilistraee, dancer, singer, and former assassin of Menzoberranzan. This takes place in her early life, before transitioning, before meeting the Silverhair Knight who aided and abetted her escape to the surface and a life with the goddess who would see the Drow liberated.

Most days when I sleep, there are no dreams. That is how it is for Drow. It was only in my fourth or fifth decade that I even learned the word "dream". When trancing fails to bring us rest and we must lay our heads and bodies down and, against every instinct, let consciousness slip away, we know only oblivion.

Like a book with dense text that, upon turning a leaf you are greeted with a set of blank pages. Sometimes they number a few, sometimes a dozen, two dozen, a hundred—and you flip them each time expecting something and are rewarded with more blankness until, once you're convinced there are no more written pages—FLIP—and the story continues at the next waiting word, the missing syllable from the last string of letters that, united, form a whole. The passing of one waking moment to another, across half a dozen hours, a miniature abyss of time and knowing.

In my youth and foolish growing years I would often lay myself down to sleep, cease for a time, and upon waking ask myself if I still am me. Do I fall asleep only to wake as another person. With a blink my eyes adjust to the infrared and cast about my person, alone as I remember. I never slept when others were around, not back then, not with the company I kept. Quickly each detail would come back to me; the slip slide of spider silk sheets over my body, my room with a textiles work bench, shelves of books placed out of order, the modest shrine to Lolth in the corner, yesterday's discarded clothes strewn on the floor. The walls are decorated with multi-colored spider silk threads, the resident spiders in their usual resting corners. I see all of this, and I know I am still me. I get up, and go about my day.

I don't remember when I first started seeing and remembering after sleep. My friend from before I entered the academy, his eyes narrowed and his jaw set tight as I signed to him in the silent speech of my people, asking if he sometimes saw things when he slept. "If you see visions gifted by Lolth, that is right and proper," his fingers spoke into the palm of my hand. "If you see anything else, do not speak it, do not sign it. Cast it from your mind and into the abyss. This discussion never happened." I didn't share any more, with him or anyone else, after that.

Most sleeps I did not dream, enjoying instead the common nothingness I had grown accustomed to. But on occasion—at least a dozen times a year—I would close my eyes and marvel at

her

She was always present in my dreams, sometimes front and center with no distractions, sometimes off in the distance, but I always could count on her presence. A maiden with long flowing white hair, limber and lithe limbs twirling in arcs and spirals about her body. She commanded the space around her, yet unlike most women I did not feel compelled to cast down my eyes lest she demanded them from my skull. In my dreams, she demanded nothing from me, only offering an invitation. To watch. To sing. To dance with her. I almost felt like I could do it, like I could stay by her side and abandon all masks, all denial, all ambition, and just Be.

Other visions featured in my dreams plenty. Images and landscapes I would not understand until years later, when I would journey to the world's surface in raiding parties, doing what was demanded of me. Rolling hills of dark green flora speckled with color, towering plants thicker and taller than any mushrooms, their canopies creating strange cavern-like spaces in this realm beyond the Underdark. And above them, an expanse deeper in its height than the deepest layers of the abyss, sparkling lights dancing like the faerie fire glittering off every building's edge in the city, only more, so many, many more.

When I woke from the first such dream, my eyes were wet with streaks of tears, though I could feel no irritation in them. It would be half a century before I knew what it meant to cry. I then gathered myself, and rose feeling truly renewed. Going forth into the waking world, I played the game I was born to play—mercantile ventures, performing in plays to entertain prospective nobles looking to adopt, and once in their employ, I would carry out their covert deeds of spying and assassination. This work I did and did it well, with one concern on my mind: survival til the next cycle of Narbondel.

Till the next time I could sleep, and gaze upon the Dark Maiden and the lands above, where trees and flowers grow.

[a-heart-of-kyber]

Not me looking up the Seven Sisters situation because y'all have me curious.

So, Mystra possessed a woman and used her body to seduce her target...I mean a man, knowing that even though the woman was ok with the possession she wasn't exactly down for said man.

Then the man didn't know, for years, that Mystra was possessing his 'wife' until she started burning up from the inside from housing a goddess and he consulted a priest.

That's still an assault, but shocker, it's not necessarily a female victim, once again.

Dornal had No Idea who he was sleeping with. So, while Elue gave permission...for the most part, he sure as hell didn't.

This is not the brownie point you think it is.

[dirge-requim]

finally broke down & made a bg3 sideblog so i can be obnoxious about my durge even more