#cursed by my spurned former lover

[unhandmeisay]

Hmmmm... It's bad ??

This is a NPC from the DnD campaign I run, she is a powerful Fey who fled the Summer Court after having comitted treason against the Seelie.

She took refuge in the metropolis of Onze Racines and is now living undercover, posing as a mortal poet and painter. She gained quite the fame due to her beauty and her talent, and quickly became the muse of every artist in the city (her Fey charm might have had something to do with this).

So yeah, if I have to break up with an Archfey, I think things are going to go pre-tty bad for me x)))

(the art was generated with @crowesn 's incredible Tiefling Maker picrew, PLEASE go check it out it's so good)

[baldurs-writers-3]

Time Skips & Future Fics: A Baldur's Gate 3 Fanfic Rec list

This week, we have Time Skips & Future Fics!  Check under the cut for a whopping nineteen fics that show all our favorite companions and what they’re doing years after the Absolute Crisis. And as always, comment and kudos if you like them!

One Last Crooked Night by Scaryanne (34342, Explicit) Warnings: None Pairings: Gale/Tav, Astarion/Tav

Tav is engaged to marry Gale. Astarion is in love with Tav. Tav is in love with... Astarion. UH-OH

Reccer says: I'm a sucker for reading about idiots in love who could solve so many problems with some simple communication but instead choose to do anything but that. Also it is a nice exploration of what somebody "Should do" verses what they WANT to do.

A Gift, A Curse by El_emit (195161, Explicit) Warnings: Graphic violence, non-con/rape, mind control Pairings: Astarion/Tav

A story in which we discover just how damned an ascended vampire can be, and just how far you will go to save the elf you loved.

Reccer says: A post canon "what happened after we let him ascend" fic. The author does a phenomenal job of world building, tugging on your emotions, making you feel shocked and afraid and excited for what's coming next all at once. Most chapters have left me on the edge of my chair waiting for more of the story to unfold. (Still ongoing!)

Coming Home by MoisopolonOikia (roughlytwentytwofrogs) (15962, Mature) Warnings: PTSD/Anxiety, descriptions of panic attacks and hypervigilance, amputated MC Pairings: Shadowheart/Lae'zel

Lae'zel comes back to Faerûn after the war on Vlaakith is won, a decade after the illithid invasion. She meets Halsin at the grove and travels with him towards Last Light Inn to find her lover Shadowheart and all her old friends there, but she has to deal with the toll the years of fighting have taken on her body and mind on the way.

Reccer says: Very sweet and emotional slowburn with a focus on exploring a post-Vlaakith Lae'zel that came back changed after 10 years of warring. Made me cry more than once (it's a good thing i promise)

The stars in between. by ElleKhen (17795, Explicit) Warnings: Pairings: Astarion/Tav

Years after the events of the game, Withers invites Church, Astarion, and their former companions back for yet another party — a cozy, festive celebration of Simril! Thrilled at the prospect of seeing his friends together again, Church takes the opportunity to indulge in a nostalgic tradition of his old village. But once Astarion realizes that this tradition involves giving gifts, he desperately tries to come up with a last-minute gift worthy enough for his partner with help from their friends and a certain (former) god of death.

Reccer says: I love how cozy and lighthearted and fun it is

Exile (Or: How You Learned to Stay) by Astarionfreak (51877, Explicit) Warnings: Non-con, mind control, graphic violence Pairings: Astarion/The Dark Urge, Shadowheart/The Dark Urge

When you have nothing, and the only one who offers you anything is the vampire you've spurned, what else can you say to him but yes?

Reccer says: A post canon story that explores the cost of seven thousand souls and how far Astarion will go to keep what he wants. This fic is exceptional. It perfectly captures every element of a gothic horror, it weaves together foreshadowing and layers to the story that you don't realize until you're reading the reveal. I have cried and laughed and fell in love with the heroine; it has made me loath a character I love. This isn't a feel good story, and if you're looking for a dark way to take things, this is where you should go.

I'm Feeling For Her What She's Feeling For Me by Zetal (Rodinia) (757, General) Warnings: None Pairings: Karlach/Tav

A cute short fluff fic that takes place two years after the end of the game.

Reccer says: It's short and sweet and I just want to give Karlach a giant hug 💕

turn the lights back on by weatheredlaw (16 104, Explicit) Warnings: None Pairings: Gale/Shadowheart

four years after they parted in baldur's gate, shadowheart arrives in waterdeep with a wish scroll in hand and asks gale for his help casting it. it winds up being more than either of them expects.

Reccer says: There's such a cozy feel to this! All the interactions between all the different characters, the excellent characterization and the musings they have. It's a very interesting little introspection.

As we were by LycheeShark (9363, Explicit) Warnings: None Pairings: Astarion/Durge

Former lovers Astarion and Minx end up back in their old bodies--back when he was Cazador's spawn, not the vampire ascendant, and back when she was still trapped in Bhaal's clutches with all the urges that entail. Together, they must figure out a way back to the future they came from.

Reccer says: It's so engaging!! This fic just hooks you straight off the bat. Great character voices, especially for Gortash and Sceleritas, fantastic premise and things are always happening!

Appetites by SpaceMonkeySalsa (72213, Explicit) Warnings: Suicide, depression, smut Pairings: Astarion/OFC

It's been five years since the Vampire Ascendant Astarion helped save Baldur's Gate. He has everything he ever wanted, and he's miserable. Isolde is nobody, and has nothing. When given the option to become a vampire spawn, her response gives Astarion a moment of pause; “No. Thank you. I think I’ll just die.”

Reccer says: I'm not normally into Ascended Astarion but I love this fic. It's very well written, and shows that Astarion has a bit of remorse about his actions. He has a complicated relationship with the primary character, Isolde; but it's not the only conflict brewing in the story. Features cameos from several other evil-ending!members of the rest of Team Tadpole as well.

she will come back by sevensistersofsussex (14297, Explicit) Warnings: angst with a happy ending, smut Pairings: Wyll/Tav

A decade after a rejected proposal, tiefling Tav sees Wyll once again. Old feelings come back.

Reccer says: I like the emotion and longing between the two characters.

Harper Files: A - Team by Tynithia (17552, Mature) Warnings: None Pairings: Emperor/Tav, Tav & OCs

Four years after the Netherbrain, Ellandra is now a Harper, under Jaheira's cell. She and her Harper Squad are tasked to find the source of some magical occurrences around Baldur's Gate

Reccer says: Fun action/adventure comedy with original characters along with cameos and a plot!

Midwinter in Waterdeep by woodsnweaves (4229, Mature) Warnings: None Pairings: Gale/Tav

After the events of the game, the main character of this fic realizes she's not one for a routine, scheduled life in Waterdeep. She and Gale fell in love quickly and didn't realize how difficult it would be to adjust to a new life together.

Reccer says: This is easily my favorite Gale fic I've read. It's such a great blend of angst and happiness. The way the author conveys their emotions is absolutely tear-jerking and I LOVE IT. I've read this multiple times and still adore it.

Weeping Dawn by Hadesgirl015 (1483, Teen) Warnings: Major character death Pairings: Tav/Karlach, Tav&Wyll

A shortly after the end of the game fic, exploring the deep grief felt when the love of your life is gone.

Reccer says: The grief in this is so well written and explored, and it's such beautiful work for how short and sweet it is. I cried while reading this.

Closing the Fist by aqeldroma (78366, Explicit) Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Pairings: Gortash/The Dark Urge

A month past her victory over the netherbrain at Gortash's side, the Dark Urge, newly devoted to Bane, returns to Baldur's Gate with an urgent mission. But complications are afoot, and tyranny is never quite straightforward.

Reccer says: 75k+ words of post-canon evil intrigue; the Netherbrain as an actual character; the Zhentarim featuring in a big way.

What you made me by Denesmera (11452, Mature) Warnings: None Pairings: Astarion/Tav, Halsin/Tav

It's been almost 6 months since they defeated the Elderbrain. Everybody seems to have found a purpose in life, expect Maeva.

Reccer says: Denesmera crafts a beautiful tale with elegant prose. I love the dynamics of her struggle with her purpose.

the cure for the world is saltwater by Raayide (16871, Teen) Warnings: None Pairings: astarion/karlach

Can Astarion really have a 'happily ever after' waiting for him considering the past 200 years?

Reccer says: Heart-wrenching and heartwarming all at once

Servitude by krapka (10 137, Explicit) Warnings: Dubious Consent, Stockholm Syndrome, Power Imbalance, Master/Servant, Sex Slave Pairings: Astarion/Original Character

It's been 7 centuries since the defeat of the Absolute, and the city of Baldur’s Gate, ruled by a legendary Eternal Duke Ancunin and forsaken by all gods, has descended into perpetual darkness. Aveline is one of the 'faded' - a group of people who this cruel world changed the most. Yet she possesses a unique talent.

Reccer says: Nobody writes porn like krapka. The characters don't even have to fuck before the fucking starts. The tension is always on point, and a lot is done with the world building with few words here and there. I'm so stoked to see where this is going!

Tidal Memories by Irken (4900 atm, it's a freshly-posted wip, Mature) Warnings: Canon-typical violence Pairings: The Emperor/Illithid Tav

It's an adventure/boat trip story 5 years post-game about the Emperor, illithid Tav, and some of the other companions (Wyll, Karlach, Gale, Astarion) going to the royal court of Tethyr to retrieve the Shield of Silvam. They explore both cities along the coast and their relationships with each other.

Reccer says: Irken's prose about being illithid and mind melding specifically is really sweet and thoughtful...

And then we have two recs for:

The Legends of Nexus Vermis by Masterangst12 (84260, Mature) Warnings: Canon-typical violence, torture, past abuse Pairings: Tav/Astarion

A post-game adventure taking place a few months after the reunion party following Astarion and Axel (Tav) meeting up with their former traveling companions.

Reccer #1 says:  The author describes things beautifully, and their OCs are engaging and fun to read about. I love their Tav (Axel) so much, and his relationship with Astarion. Reccer #2 says:  This is one of my favorite post game fics that I'm reading. I've been keeping up with it for a while now and I've just fallen in love with the original characters created for it. The author does such a great job of describing the scenes around them, I always have a very clear picture of what's going on!

The above fanfic recommendations were pulled from our community for this weekly event. Have any questions about what this is? Check out the FAQ! Next week, we’ll be back with a heartbreaking and bloody theme, Revenge Fics!

[fuzzy-set]

Name: Thexikas

I wanted to make him look scary with half of his face ruined by Orin, but I couldn't replicate the look in bg3's character creator. So here is my little sketch instead.

Nickname: The Thrice-sworn/The Dark Urge

He swore his oath three times, each for a different purpose. (Details at the back)

Gender: Male

Star Sign: Aries

Height: 190cm(ish)

Orientation: Panromantic

Race: Tiefling

Romancing: Gale

Despite their rather rocky start (the distrust was mutual), Gale won him over with his cooking. After that, they were always there for each other, with Thexikas hunting any magical artefacts that Gale could consume and Gale watching over him when the tiefling was deep in the urge's throes.

Fave fruit: Anything sweet, such as bananas and dragon fruits. He may not show it, but Thexikas has a huge sweet tooth.

Fave season: Mid-summer

He is a tiefling, so he is accustomed to high temperature environment, and for some inexplicable reason he really likes those violent thunder storms with lightning flashes and heavy rain.

Fave flower: Thexikas knew little about flowers, but he did have a preference for roses, especially the red ones. The colour reminded him of blood.

After his memory returned, he was still drawn to roses, but he felt very guilty about it.

Fave scent: Roasted meat, because he liked good food. It was hard to come by during the days when he lived in Bhaal's temple.

After he moved to Waterdeep, the scent of old book/alchemical mixtures became his favourite- because it reminded him of home.

Coffee, tea or hot chocolate: Hot chocolate because it is sweet.

Average sleep hours: Eight, but when he was on the road he slept much less than that. Most of the time he would stand guard for his companions.

Dogs or cats: Both!

Thexikas is a bit afraid of Tara, because he knows her fireball is capable of penetrating all his fiendish resistance. (Besides, Tara gave him the shovel talk.)

Dream trip: While he was amnesiac, he wanted to visit Avernus- or any realms belonging to the infernal. He wished to see the source of his fiendish blood, for Thexikas mistakenly thought the urge to kill is due to some sort of a devil's curse. If he could unravel the mystery, perhaps he could either master it or be rid of it.

Amount of blankets: It is either none(summer) or 10(winter), there is no in between.

Random fact(s):

He had been an oath of conquest paladin during his Chosen days, spreading the cult of murder in his father's name. After losing his memory, Thexikas experienced vague flashes of him wielding immense power. Angered by the loss, he took up the oath of vengeance to kill whoever took that power. However, the taste of justice was bittersweet. It was after his sister's death that the tenets of vengeance lost their appeal.

He broke his oath by sparing Viconia Devir. Jaheira told him about the story of the last Bhaalspawn who spurned divinity to be with his lover- a former Sharran drow. Unfortunately, even with all his intellect and arcane might, the Bhaalspawn still lost his life to protect his beloved from assassins. Thexikas intuited that Viconia was the woman whom his predecessor fell for, although the drow seemed not to remember Gorion's Ward anymore. Moved by the tale, he decided to free her again in honour of his predecessor. (Yeah, I am unhappy about how bg3 handles Viconia's arc, so here's my little headcanon as a remedy)

Inspired by the life of the last Bhaalspawn, Thexikas broke his chains. He was no longer his father's pawn, nor was he a blood-crazed madman who killed for vengeance. Now he could truly live, with the one person he swore an oath of devotion for.

Alternative Ending: Fearful of his love life sharing the same trend as the last Bhaalspawn, he made Gale a god. In this way he would not die- at least not in a mortal sense. Then Thexikas went back to the root and became an oath of conquest paladin again, because it was what he good at. Many would know him as Ambition's hound, conquering new domains in his god's name.

tagged by @galedekarios!

[incorrect-interdimensional]

Collab between myself and my wonderful gf @grelleswife, a short scene between our ocs Xander and Astre.

---

The thought passed through his mind that this was wrong, in a voice that sounded rather like his father's, a man didn't wear such things and any man with such desires wasn't a man at all. Even so Astre still found himself stealing into his boyfriend's bedroom, quiet as a cat burglar and making his way towards the wardrobe and the content within. The voice continued reminding him of all the things he ought not do if he wished to keep his own dignity. They haunted him, tormented him and yet even still he could not quash his desires. Just as he couldn't turn away from his attraction to men, so could he not take away his desire to wear clothing better suited for women. It shamed him and he could feel the colour rush to his cheeks even as he held out a hand and touched the wooden door.

As though he were a civilian facing down a lion in the Colosseum he slowly swung the wardrobe door open and stared inside. The interior was a veritable treasure trove of garments, the likes of which would surely have made Nina Hopkins herself weep for joy at their sight, although they filled Astre with nothing but a sick sort of dread. Was he really about to do such a thing? The thought if it almost made him recoil as the doubts tried to make their way through the longing. The scornful voices of those who knew him whilst he still lived ringing tauntingly in his ears, worst of all the voices was that of his own younger brother Ciel, spurning him telling him that he was ashamed to be related to him; that they were no longer brothers. It painted him to hear. But even still his longing was stronger. He wanted to do this so very badly it almost pained him.

A memory of Xander, no shame on his face, looking so ethereally beautiful in a white dress played through his mind. His boyfriend completely liberated and unafraid of any scorn had been an eye opener for him. Even more so had been the lack of reaction from those around them. They'd not even spared a glance in Xander's direction, at least no more than they usually did. In fact some people had even complimented him on his choice of vestiments.

Of course that had not been the beginning of it all for the former Earl, far from it. He'd always been fascinated with the fashion industry, secretly seeking out Nina's help in such matters, always keen to learn more. He could remember the countless times he'd stolen longing glances at his dear Alice as she'd dressed simply because he longed to be the one to be robed in such beautiful gowns. To feel the fabric pool around his ankles and sway in the wind. But of course, it would've been unacceptable for him to do such a thing. Now however it seemed to be different. A man could wear whatever he so desired and no one would think any less of him. Certainly, though he'd been astounded the first time he'd seen his love wear a dress, he'd never once thought any less of him. Xander looked as radiant as the sun no matter his clothing. Surely the same could apply to him...

This gave him the push he needed. He began to look through the seemingly endless array of clothing, half cursing his beloved for having acquired the same love for fashion as his mother had. How was one to choose an outfit when there were at least a hundred to pick from? It was quite absurd to his own mind. But then, he supposed he was now entirely used to the three piece suits that were his daily wear. He'd long since stopped having a fully stocked wardrobe and a butler to help him dress.

Eventually however he came upon one he rather liked the look of, scandalously short in his own mind (it reached mid thigh) and made of a light, floaty dark blue material, with golden glittering stars embroidered on the skirt and around the hem, that shone when the light caught them.

Carefully he set it on the bed and began shamefully disrobing himself, carelessly tossing aside his suit in favour of this new garment before the embarrassment and fear could take full hold again. He stood in front of the mirror for a moment, dressed in nothing but his underwear and took a deep breath, steeling himself like a soldier about to do some great battle before he once more took the dress in hand and slipped it over his head, marvelling at the way it felt as it descended his body, clinging in such a wonderful way.

It felt...good. More than good actually and almost shyly the boy stole a glance at the mirror again to take in what he knew ought to be an abominable sight. It wasn't. He blushed further, gazing at himself in the mirror. The Astre who looked back at him seemed dreadfully at ease in his new outfit. Blue dress, although short still long enough that he could keep his dignity intact.

Tentatively he shook his hips, laughing at the way the skirt moved with him. His courage grew with every passing second he stared at himself and eventually he was parading up and down in the dress twirling and laughing, unable to understand why he'd not tried such a thing sooner.

As Xander walked towards his room, he could faintly hear Astre’s laughter, sweet and pure like running water. His scarlet eyes glowed. The tragedies of Astre’s past weighed heavily on the reaper, so this was a sound Xander cherished. Curious as to the source of his boyfriend’s delight, he picked up the pace, opened the door—and came to a standstill. There Astre was, twirling in front of the mirror while wearing one of Xander’s dresses. Xander brought a hand to his mouth as the blood rushed to his cheeks.

Gods, he’s beautiful.

The deep blue of the dress, like a night sky, perfectly complemented his love’s alabaster skin and jet black hair, and the way it showed Astre’s slender figure to perfection made him weak at the knees. And Astre looked so…free. He practically glowed, laughing with an abandon that set Xander’s heart racing with joy. The reaper usually tried to conceal it, but Xander could sense the tension he carried with him daily, the burden of keeping parts of himself locked away. Xander had never pressed Astre about what those secrets might be; it can take many days for a flower to bloom, and he didn’t want to force Astre into revelations he wasn’t yet prepared to make. Looking at him now, the hybrid understood what those hidden longings might be.

Turning his head, Astre caught sight of him and froze. The color drained from his face, which was contorted by an intense, all-consuming fear and shame. Xander reached out to him. “Babe—”

But his boyfriend hurtled across the room, diving underneath the bed and out of range. “Astre!” Xander half-laughed, half-sighed, shaking his head. He started walking towards the bed, high heels clicking against the floor, but Astre’s voice shrilly interjected, “N-no!”

Oh, dear. Xander was baffled by Astre’s behavior. Why would he be ashamed of wearing a dress? But then it clicked. Victorian mores had been absurdly strict where gender presentation was concerned. He remembered Dad complaining about having to wear suits day after day (‘Trousers quickly grow tiresome, kittens’) because that was what was expected of a “proper” man.

Crouching down, Xander gently spoke to the reaper curled up and quaking under the bed. “Baby, it’s all right.”

“I-I shouldn’t…it’s not…”

“I know things were different when you were human, but that’s in the past, honey. You shouldn’t let that stop you from wearing what you like.”

Still shaking, the reaper muttered, “I’m a freak…r-real men don’t like wearing dresses—”

“That’s not true!” Xander interrupted, his heart aching. How could Astre be so ashamed of his radiance. “Who cares what anyone else thinks? You look real enough to me. And I couldn’t care less about the clothes you like. Babe, you could wear a potato sack and I’d still love you. Besides, you’re beautiful in that dress, Astre. So beautiful.” Xander’s voice caught slightly on the last words, his eyes blurring with tears. My poor honey, he thought. Had no one been there to give Astre these words of encouragement before? He held out his hand. “Please come out, Astre. Let me take another look at you.”

Ever so shyly, Astre’s hand crept out, fingers interlacing tentatively with Xander’s. Gradually, with gentle murmurs (and a kiss or two pressed to the back of his lover’s hand), Xander coaxed him out. Astre stood, still trembling. “M-my calves are showing.”

“They’re a welcome sight!” Xander laughed, holding him at arm’s length and staring at Astre in awe. In the diaphanous dress, he appeared as celestial as his name would imply, a star whose light threatened to blind him. “This dress is fantastic on you. I’m almost jealous!” he added with a wink.

Astre blushed profusely, and Xander’s pulse quickened. How could one person be so inimitably perfect? Xander hugged him close, tenderly kissing his way along Astre’s neck. “There’s nothing wrong with wearing dresses if that’s what makes you comfortable,” he reassured his boyfriend, rubbing his back soothingly.

“You’re really sure?” Astre choked out, sounding as if he couldn’t quite believe it but desperately wanted to. Xander purred, a sound he knew Astre would find calming. “Positive. We should look through my closet to see what others you’d like to try. Or maybe take you shopping!” he declared, perking up.

Astre turned even redder. “I think I need a little time before…before all that.”

“That’s fine. There’s no rush, babe.” Xander kept purring, relief coursing through him as he felt Astre relax at last. Astre quietly cried against his shoulder, tears dampening Xander’s shirt. “Thank you,” he whispered, and Xander kissed his tears away.

It can take many days for a flower to bloom, but this one was finally beginning to open.

[andrewuttaro]

Why USL is the future of American Soccer

Following domestic professional soccer in the United States can be really difficult at times. Beyond the streams, mechanics, and rules of the sport itself the politics and power dynamics of the leagues and supporters can leave one being yelled at on social media for reasons they don’t understand. To be honest it took me about two years after I started watching the domestic club game to fully understand why American Soccer twitter is angrier than normal twitter. There is no quick way to bring you up to speed so I’m going to see if I can do it in a paragraph before explaining why I think the family of leagues known as United Soccer League (USL) is the future of the Men’s Pro game here in America.

In most countries around the world each national federation oversees a system of Promotion/Relegation between the different levels of their domestic club leagues. The US Soccer Federation (USSF) works very closely with Major League Soccer (MLS) to keep that league solvent and therefore doesn’t care to implement Pro/Rel here and provide its owners with a “undue risk to their investment”. That is, on a nuts-and-bolts level, what makes the domestic game here so contentious. There are several other issues related to what one might call “Open Soccer” that orbit this central point. Additionally outside of MLS with its Top-Flight designation (Division 1) it is generally viewed as though the entire domestic club system here is built in a counter-competitive way to benefit those who buy into MLS and nobody else. From a financial standpoint that’s a tough point to argue with given the lifecycle of non-MLS Soccer clubs in this country. So that’s why American Soccer twitter is a mess other than just when the Men’s National Team sucks.

USL is often heaped in with MLS’ business model by the wide array of groups I’ll use the shorthand “rebels” for here. Rebels see the franchise model MLS (and every other topflight professional sports league in North America uses but don’t mention that to them) uses as a damper on American Soccer at best and a latent capitalist drain on the sport at worst. The problem with that belief is that USL’s leadership has, for almost a decade now, professed a much greater interest in the Open Model than MLS has ever dared. Jake Edwards, the USL President, a former English footballer in his own right, speaks favorably about the myriad ways he wants to open up competitive pro soccer in America at any opportunity. In addition to calling Pro/Rel a mid-term goal for his leagues, he has spoken of his determination for an inter-league trophy, helped build up an academy system for USL independent teams long before MLS was preparing to pull their support, and has even spoken to FIFA and the USSF about getting a CONCACAF Champions League spot for USLC. He’s done just about everything a lower division league President can do to “open soccer” apart from abolish expansion fees, market territories, and talk smack to the Federation.

So why are this nation’s soccer rebels married to the nascent National Independent Soccer Association (NISA) as the only acceptable pro soccer option for their pure view of the game? Yes, I understand the difference between a club and a franchise though most fans of sports the world round will not find it to be a meaningful distinction for their own entertainment. Forgive my bluntness. My soccer life has been a real roller coaster the last four years. My hometown Rochester Rhinos went on hiatus in 2017 and have only looked likely to return recently. The seasons without them have blended together in a mesh of insistence on amateur teams, revulsion from MLS, insistence on USL, acceptance of MLS, and finally just exhaustion with this crazy niche community of sports fans. And before you go there, rebels; no, I don’t blame my team’s troubles solely on “the MLS business model”. The sport sucks in this country not just because there is a way for some people to make money off it.

So here’s a fair shake for the rebels: the appeal of true sporting independence is enticing. When you watch the game oversees there is a charm to the idea little fourth tier Wycombe United could fight there way up the pyramid by pure sporting merit. Market forces poison the sport there too, just in less destructive ways for a variety of reasons. I also greatly respect the idea independence allows clubs to craft a product that is truly unique and exciting for local fans. When every other team in MLS is called something FC and exists 300 miles away from you there is something really cool about a local team with your colors and your own kids on it. The “economic justice” argument rebels often make about solidarity payments and the like are all too compelling and financially at least, the deck really is stacked against more locally-minded clubs.

All that said, independence for the sake of independence and “fighting the good fight” as if you’re on a religious crusade is not a good look and actually hurts your argument in the end. When we’re regularly dealing with issues bigger than soccer along the lines of Black Lives Matter and a profoundly sexist Federation that still refuses to pay the women fairly, it’s a little trite for one to speak of Pro/Rel as an inherent good that must be fought for at all costs. The struggles of the NWSL and the dominance of the Women’s National Team is still an afterthought in this country and you’re telling me I have to protest the franchise system like its British Rule of India? You’re losing the forest for the trees at that point.

USLC recently enticed NISA’s most appealing, community-focused brand in Oakland Roots SC to join the USL ecosystem. The move spawned rebel think pieces and twitter threads the world over. When Oakland made the NISA Fall Final versus Detroit anyone who was anyone on the Rebel Front felt the need to cheer for Detroit because traitors! After the collapse of the new NASL in 2017, USL poached numerous formerly independent minded teams from the rubble and though rebels will tell you NISA doing that with the amateur ranks is not poaching its really a moot point. We’re talking about the difference between the league controlling you’re IP and you telling them what to do with it and you owning your IP and telling yourself what to do with it. Some rebel arguments just rapidly descend into splitting hairs so finely that it seems more like a popularity contest than a really substantive fight. If most US Soccer rebels really wanted to have the substantive discussion that needs to happen they’d be a lot more open to the USL ecosystem than they seem to be. But no, it’s just easier to hiss at the Oakland Roots.

Though the title of this article may lead you to believe I’m a USL fanboy, I too really just want a compelling, local product to cheer for that won’t fold in three years. USL including USL-L1 and USLC (and perhaps sooner than you think a USL topflight league as well) is the future of American Soccer whether we like to admit it or not. USL is altogether organized and operated in a way that not only spurns the cold protectionism of the MLS but gives local brands a way to survive for the long term. Though a team like Indy Eleven started its life in NASL 2.0, it hasn’t exactly been altered unrecognizably by its participation in Indy Eleven. And don’t think its suffered for having come from a more independent minded league: the Eleven have been rather competitive big shots in USLC since they arrived. The way forward here isn’t unyielding factions, its accepting compromise.

MLS has abandoned USL. We’re on the brink of MLS pulling all its reserve (two) sides and other support from the USL ecosystem. I sincerely believe this partnership was the only thing holding Jake Edwards and USL back from being truly revolutionary. Once the ink is wet on “MLS Next” and USL has nothing but “independent” clubs within it, they will begin into all of the aforementioned Open Soccer reforms. They may even think about allowing for a semi-franchise option to allow greater autonomy for clubs with a fan ownership model (Looking at you Chattanooga FC & Detroit) as far as it can fit within the Pro League Standards. It would be a shame if a club that has built its brand around being defiant against anybody who disagrees with their purest opinion in Detroit City FC is sitting outside a three rung pro/rel pyramid in a couple years  with their arms crossed just because they have to license some intellectual property to a couple Englishmen in Tampa. And if that bit about the Pro League Standards (PLS) comes across as a massive oversight of this article then I have news for you: your problem is with the US Soccer Federation, not USL. Everyone has a problem with the Federation and if everyone came together on their issues the voices for change would be a whole lot stronger. Instead we’re wasting time painting four letter curses on banners in front of MLS, how about you swallow your pride long enough to create a real coalition.

I realize there is no scenario here where nobody’s feelings are hurt but I really think there is no reason USL cannot be the rallying point for all soccer lovers in this country who realize Major League Soccer has lost their way. There is a very good probability that within the next five years USL could have a topflight league with a two to three rung pro/rel pyramid beneath it with a very liberated form of open soccer in place. USL could fulfill all the American Soccer Rebel’s naughtiest fantasies before the end of this decade save for a few minor roster rules and licensing agreements. The thought of it excites me, especially if my own Rochester Rhinos find their way back into full existence in the USL ecosystem at some point in the next couple years. Once you know everything that USL hopes to do in the near future with MLS pulling its support there really is no reason to not be excited about what they could do to build a far more enticing form of Pro Soccer in this country. USL is the future of domestic club soccer in American.

And for the record, I think Oakland Roots knew this. I think its why they weren’t as standoffish with the USL as their more thick-skulled NISA brothers and sisters. But I digress, God forbid we work together to create the future we want for the Pro game in this country. Working together doesn’t seem to be the theme of any part of American Life at the moment, eh?

Thanks for Reading.

[cyberpink]

Uncommon Questions for OCs and their creators: Ferron Rift

in response to @bright-witch‘s ask. There was just so many questions per character so I decided to break them down by character so it’s easier to read/tag. Thanks for asking! : )

(Under a cut so I’m not clogging up anyone’s dash!)

QUESTIONS FOR YOUR OCs

What’s the maximum amount of time your character can sit still with nothing to do? Quite some time. The longest he’s ever held still was for a job he did back in Hammerfell-- stealing a trinket back for a wealthy noblewoman spurned by a former lover. He stayed hidden in the attic without moving for nearly an entire day.  He does enjoy the feeling of stretching his legs, though.

How easy is it for your character to laugh? He doesn’t laugh that much unprompted. He appreciated a well crafted joke, but he’s not like Reilya (She likes to fill silences with habit. He prefers solitude.) 

How do they put themselves to bed at night (reading, singing, thinking?) He likes to think and plan out his next day before going to bed. Being prepared makes him feel more secure.

How easy is it to earn their trust? Very, very difficult. There are only a handful of people in his entire life that he has trusted. If you think you earned his trust; you’re probably wrong and he’s lying to you.

How easy is it to earn their mistrust? He pretty much distrusts you upon the first meeting. You have to earn his trust, and it’s not an easy feat. 

Do they consider laws flexible, or immovable? Laws are pretty much meaningless if they get in the way of his (and Reilya, by extension) survival.

What triggers nostalgia for them, most often? Do they enjoy that feeling? Certain foods. Flaky pastries usually do the trick. Nostalgia makes him sad and he tends to get lost in it.

What were they told to stop/start doing most often as a child He is born under the Thief and has natural born affinities for stealth and other sneaky thief things. It made him sort of a pariah even when he was young. Both of his parents were fearful he was going to go down a path that a future heir of a noble family shouldn’t be involved in. So he was encouraged pretty strongly by his parents to train into knighthood-- against his own wishes. Like Reilya, he also has the affinity for magic, however his skills lie in the restoration arts rather than destruction. He would’ve liked to have become a healer rather than a knight, but I guess his parents had other plans. The joke’s on them I suppose, because his natural talents in thievery AND the healing arts is what has kept both him and Reilya alive for all of these years.

Do they swear? Do they remember their first swear word? He doesn’t curse, like ever. 

What lie do they most frequently remember telling? Does it haunt them? There are too many to count now. 

How do they cope with confusion (seek clarification, pretend they understand, etc)? Ferron has an inquisitive mind and he’s always trying to piece together all the puzzle pieces. He will either ask for clarification or start reading between the lines and look for clues elsewhere. 

How do they deal with an itch found in a place they can’t quite reach? Interesting question. He’d probably scratch it himself with something he found, I suppose. He doesn’t like to ask for help xP

What color do they think they look best in? Do they actually look best in that color? Black, brown, dark greens. I think he does, but he also looks pretty great in bright red too, I think. His complexion and dusty brown hair make it pop.

What animal do they fear most? I can’t really say he outright fears many animals. He’s hunted so many times and he feels like once you understand an animal’s nature there’s nothing left to fear. One animal he really doesn’t like to tangle with are wildcats.

How do they speak? Is what they say usually thought of on the spot, or do they rehearse it in their mind first? Ferron is on the shy side, and speaks a little awkwardly at times. He’s either too blunt or struggles to be assertive when he needs to be.

What makes their stomach turn? Thalmor. Big cities. Guards. Pretty much anything involving the possibility of being noticed. He really doesn’t like standing out in a crowd and does what he can to blend into his surroundings. 

Are they easily embarrassed? Sometimes-- usually only when it concerns sex and romance.

What embarrasses them? Besides the above? Anything that points out his feelings of inadequacy. 

What is their favorite number? 13. 

If they were asked to explain the difference between romantic and platonic or familial love, how would they do so? Similar to Reilya; both forms of love are irreplaceable, precious things, that must be protected at all costs. 

Why do they get up in the morning? The most practical of reasons -- to survive. Over staying your welcome in any place leads to trouble.  Philosophically -- to see justice be served for his namesake.

How does jealousy manifest itself in them (they become possessive, they become aloof, etc)? He’s already pretty aloof. It gets magnified x10 and he gets really quiet. He doesn’t like admitting weakness so good luck getting him to talk about it.

How does envy manifest itself in them (they take what they want, they become resentful, etc)? He gets very bitter, sad, and angry all rolled into one ball and gets distant and sometimes even a little mean. He’s really quite sensitive about all things that remind him of all he’s lost. 

Is sex something that they’re comfortable speaking about? To whom? He’s not super comfortable with just outright talking about it with just anybody. He still doesn’t get Reilya’s candor in that regard. 

What are their thoughts on marriage? It’s not something he’s thought a lot about. The idea of marrying someone seems so far off to him. Who would want to marry an outlaw anyway? Someone who has very little to offer a partner?  There’s too many complications. He’s much more interested in salvaging his family’s name and getting revenge for all the crap the Thalmor has put him and his sister through. It would be a disservice to any potential lover to be tied to him.

What is their preferred mode of transportation? By foot, but for long distances horses are a must. 

What causes them to feel dread? When things don’t go according to his plans. He doesn’t like surprises.

Would they prefer a lie over an unpleasant truth? A lie works just as well as the truth in his opinion, unless he knows the person very well. He’s gotten so good at lying it’s become second nature to him.

Do they usually live up to their own ideals? Not quite. He wants to do good but has gotten so wrapped up in what he’s lost and he’s so willing to fight to win that back that he would do just about anything to get there. 

Who do they most regret meeting? So many people, but no one in particular.

Who are they the most glad to have met? Bauther. Bauther is another OC of mine; He’s a former Imperial solider who fought during the Great War. After the signing of The White-Gold Concordat, he remained critical of The Aldmeri Dominion and eventually left the Imperial army just a few years after the treaty was signed, deciding to remain in his home of Hammerfell, where he used his skills he learned in the army as a Mercenary-for-hire. They met after Ferron attempted (and failed) to pick his pocket. He’s a really gentle-hearted guy, and after realizing the kind of situation Ferron and his little sister were in, he decided to take the boy under his wing. First he helped Ferron find more respectable work, and they eventually become partners for a time whilist helping them stay under the radar. Bauther became somewhat of a role model for Ferron; Bauther and his Argonian wife Grisha are one of the very few people he places trust in.

Do they have a go-to story in conversation? Or a joke? He will talk your ear off about Reilya like a proud parent. Otherwise he’s really not one for idle conversation. 

Could they be considered lazy? Not at all. He trains with his bow just about every day.

How hard is it for them to shake a sense of guilt? My friends, Ferron is nothing but a bundle of guilt and regrets. 

How do they treat the things their friends come to them excited about? Are they supportive? He is silently happy, but doesn’t usually get involved unless asked. He likes to sit back and let his friends/companions do their own thing. He doesn’t want to get in the way. 

Do they actively seek romance, or do they wait for it to fall into their lap? He will insist he’s too busy for love. I’m sure when it happens, he won’t be expecting it and he won’t know how to handle it. 

Do they have a system for remembering names, long lists of numbers, things that need to go in a certain order (like anagrams, putting things to melodies, etc)? I guess if I had to pinpoint a method, he’d probable use the Keyword method. It’s simple but effective.

What memory do they revisit the most often? He has two: the night his parents “mysteriously” died, and the night his family home burned to the ground. Both are very painful memories for him. 

How easy is it for them to ignore flaws in other people? Easy, if those flaws are beneficial to him; difficult if they prevent him from accomplishing what he’s set out to do.

How sensitive are they to their own flaws? Painfully so. 

How do they feel about children? He adores children. Can’t get enough, actually. They’re so cute, and say some really goofy stuff. It’s hard not to smile around them.

How badly do they want to reach their end goal? To see the Aldmeri Dominion pay for everything they have done to his family: for the death of his parents, for using his own uncle against him and his sister before they could barely comprehend politics, for branding them both as criminals and denying them their birthright; he would do just about anything. And honestly, despite the fact that Ferron is shy and soft-spoken, that is why he can be terrifying. 

If someone asked them to explain their sexuality, how would they do so? He’d shrug. Say something along the lines of, “Why do you care?” and probably never answer the question because he’d find it amusing to keep you guessing.

QUESTIONS FOR CREATORS

A) Why are you excited about this character? I find his struggles super relatable. He has sacrificed so much to keep his sister safe and would go to the ends of the earth for the people he cares about. He’s always fighting his upbringing of feeling like the black sheep of the family, trying so hard to do his parents proud while also staying true to himself. It’s a hard balancing act and even though he doesn’t quite get it right, it’s still kind of admirable that he’s trying. It’s also just fun to write a complete and total Edgelord character once in a while. 

B) What inspired you to create them? When I was creating Reilya’s TES backstory, I realized it was super unrealistic for a 12 year old sheltered child to be able to survive on her own while on the run from a tyrannical government. So the idea of Ferron was born through that.   C) Did you have trouble figuring out where they fit in their own story? For the reason above, yes. It took a while for me to craft him his own voice and narrative, I guess.  D) Have they always had the same physical appearance, or have you had to edit how they look? Ehhhh.. a little bit I suppose. He’s basically the same in essence though. But now, with freckles! E) Are they someone you would get along with? Would they get along with you? I think we’d get along really well. We both like the quiet and we're both night owls :^) F) What do you feel when you think of your OC (pride, excitement, frustration, etc)? I want to protect him and I want him to be okay. G) What trait of theirs bothers you the most? His martyrdom and low self-esteem. I wish he could value himself more and not be so quick to sacrifice himself for others. : [  H) What trait do you admire most? Haha, I guess all of the things I said in answer A!!!!  I) Do you prefer to keep them in their canon universe? Yes, he’s always been canon to the TES: Skyrim universe. J) Did you have to manipulate or exclude canon factors to allow them to create their character? Besides small details regarding political affairs in High Rock, not too much .  There is some changes I have made to Dawnguard canon, but the vampire clan in that expansion isn’t really that fleshed out anyway, so I don’t think it’s a big deal.

[loveiscosmicsin]

Picturesque

FFXV Spoilers

I’m writing this by the ear and not using much reference or information. The timeline of FFXV is confusing so whatever. I wanted to write about Ardyn and Gentiana or Gentianardyn or Ardiana. There’s something going on, but nobody’s saying much about it (much like the plot of XV, basically). Can’t help imagining Ardyn/Gentiana/Luna except, not a poly ship, but a complicated love triangle of new loves, lovers spurned, and portions of hearts remaining with the other person. As far as this fic’s concerned, Gentiana had a thing with Ifrit, Ardyn, and Luna. Let me tell you that I prefer Brotherhood!Gentiana because at least she doesn’t speak in confusing riddles and actually was at Luna’s side. Might become part of a series: The Accursed and The Liars. Posted on Ao3.

-

She is free in her wildness, she is a wanderess, a drop of free water. She knows nothing of borders and cares nothing for rules or customs. ‘Time’ for her isn’t something to fight against. Her life flows clean, with passion, like fresh water. - Roman Payne

-

“Lady Lunafreya, would you like to hear a bedtime story?” Gentiana proposed to the former Tenebraen princess one night.

Lunafreya’s brilliant amethyst flickered to the older woman’s face. Her confusion was understandable. There was no precedence leading up to the inquiry. It came unexpectedly. “A little old for bedtime stories, I’m afraid,” she replied reluctantly, tucking short blonde hair behind her ears.

Lunafreya Nox Fleuret was a young woman  at the tender age of fourteen. Gentiana never paid much heed to mortal lifespans for she knew that when there’s a beginning the end not far behind. Everyday was either a celebration or a curse. Lunafreya attained an air of maturity for someone barely at the peak of womanhood but Gentiana would consider her a child.

“Forgive me. I mean no offense, I seek to assuage feelings of self-doubt and reinvigorate your will.” Gentiana hovered her hands over the girl’s legs and concentrated white magic over worn muscles, her eyes shut not to betray her thoughts. “Lessons can be interpreted from stories.”

Gentiana came into Lunafreya’s service as a lady-in-waiting and her Messenger two years ago. It won’t be until two years later Gentiana would re-introduce herself as the Glacian, Shiva, one of the Six Astrals that safeguarded Eos. Though the Fleuret heiress was destined to accept the role of Oracle in the near future, there was little that the two maidens knew about each other. Lunafreya was the youngest acolyte placed in Gentiana’s care but possessed great promise. She would make a powerful Oracle under firm guidance.

Before a woman of the Fleuret lineage ascended to her calling, she must undergo a set of arduous trials. Queen Sylva, the former ruler of Tenebrae and Lunafreya’s predecessor, too, endured the training.

The princess suffered considerably through hers. Her spiritual energy was spent after dispelling a miasma that Gentiana projected. It was minuscule in scale and non-threatening, but Lunafreya collapsed after containing most of it. She was unsuccessful today, but improving with each attempt, refusing to be discouraged by present limitations.

It was nightfall now. Lunafreya’s body was plagued by severe chills and cramps that left her whimpering involuntarily and restless, a frequent occurrence. Even as Gentiana tended to the young girl, sympathy for her charge was inevitable. Lunafreya had no liberty to protest about burden when so many cannot find solace in this world. A calling must be heeded and the Oracle shall go to those in need. She accepted the hardships rather than to defy them, an attitude Gentiana herself had fostered.

One day, Gentiana would instruct the rites and the Oracle must be ready to commune with the Six so the King of Kings could fulfill his destiny. By then, the Astrals shall bear witness to humanity’s determination. After all, Lunafreya had already won over the Glacian’s unconditional admiration.

Lunafreya was silent even after Gentiana ceased healing. The servant bowed her head, interpreting silence as an answer and it was her time to retire. But the girl spoke with unwavering resolve to compel the Messenger to remain, “I’ve a feeling that this isn’t a mere children’s bedtime story. If this one is as important as you assert, I’d like to hear it.”

“Very well,” Gentiana nodded.

Once upon a time, there was fox king. He was neither of light or dark. He alone illuminated the world and fearlessly ventured the bleakest regions no one dared walk. But for that, his people loved him. He possessed a pure, uncomplicated heart that rivaled even the brightest of stars.

The gods awarded him with a bejeweled crown in all the colors of the rainbow.

A beautiful crown fit for a spectacular king! Everyone, in all the land, lauded over it.

But the gemstones on the crown were heavy, so heavy, they banged against his eyelids and weighed him down.

No one, from anywhere, wanted to hear the king’s voice again. The neglected soul contested to remove the crown.

He walked to the ends of the world to uplift his burden, but to no avail. A hole awaited him.

The fox king fell into the hole. No one remembered the fox king.

Everyone had forgotten him. Poor king. Poor king.

Gentiana paused with a grimace. That tale went untold for over a millennia, but the wounds were as fresh as received on that day. Not a day went by that she hadn’t thought of him and the Messenger lived many years. She brought a hand to her breast, feeling the medallion concealed there. It was far more than a trinket, it was a music box, the melody jarring after it had been exhausted repeatedly. A memento of better times and what could have been.

“Is there more to the tale?” The girl asked, perturbed by the ending.

Yes, Gentiana thought immediately before resigning with a painful lie, “No. This was his fate.”

Lunafreya pursed her lips, pensive as she leaned in the palm of her hand. “Gentiana, did you know this fox king?”

Gentiana laughed softly but no humor came of it. “Is that assumption you have derived from the tale, m'lady?”

“If I may be so bold, I’d say that you knew this fox.”

“The fox’s tale is a chapter read and closed by those who walked that path until they met their demise. The fox saw the world through a different lens, did what he felt was right and perhaps condemned for a nature that was but a dark seed in his heart. Perhaps he was destined to bring ruin unto others. Who could say?” The Messenger paused, extending a finger over the promised Oracle’s heart. Perhaps the girl would understand the hardship. “Tell me, Lady Lunafreya. What is heavier? The world or its people’s hearts?”

Lunafreya glanced down at the Messenger’s hand, puzzlement touched her features briefly before an eerie answer left her mouth, “The heart holds as much as it would allow, Gentiana. If we were at any liberty to choose, the weight could be lighter or heavier as we wish it.”

Gentiana tilted her head, envisioning the girl who once sewn her crown with delicate blue flowers. A halo of holy light glittered around her, leaving the Astral enraptured. “You would submit yourself to the latter if you had the choice?”

“I would, but I already do. Even if it meant giving up my life, I will defeat the Starscourge. I must.” Unwavering dedication resounded in her words.

Gentiana took the girl’s hand between her own and the Oracle-to-be flinched, never had the attendant been so forward as to touch her. A mortal’s warmth was something the goddess hadn’t felt in a long time, chipping the glacier around her heart. Gentiana had known two great tragedies in her lifetime, there won’t be another, she would rather die first before anything happened to Lunafreya.

Both the girl and the fox were willing to sacrifice their lives for the greater good. Their hearts had the capacity to hold the world and its habitants, a pure and idealistic love, but naïve. The fox possessed the eyes to distinguish the light of expiring souls yet he was determined to avert certain death or at least, ease suffering. His final act of love should’ve marked him as the last king, unparalleled and forgotten by descendants after him. The kings of yore saw to this banishment of their ilk.

She cannot erase the fox from history, this Gentiana knew, but she wouldn’t make the same mistake with her charge. Lunafreya was a paragon of the peace and should she die, then the world would come to an end.

History had its eyes on Lunafreya, after all.

-

“I sense you, but I find your power wanting.” Ardyn Izunia hummed to the sound of his own noncommittal tune, swishing brandy in a glass.

The mauve-haired chancellor chuckled, finger tapping against the glass impatiently. It had been a millennia since he had been ignored, having grown accustomed to commanding gullible audiences who latched on to his every word.

The uninvited guest was nothing like that. A force of nature, elusive and omnipresent. While Ardyn’s words corroded and dominated willpower to a world he made for himself, planets orbited around her without consequence. It didn’t matter to her how many devotees clung to her tits like babes or treated her name as it was a curse in itself.

“I confess, I didn’t expect your intervention. I thought you would be too preoccupied mourning your darling Lunafreya. Extinguished like a star, that one.” Feigning pity, he raised the glass to toast in the late Oracle’s memory, “A shame that her lungs weren’t in agreement with the sea water.”

Silence persisted, but the room had progressively gotten colder. Frost crept up around the rim of the glass. He took a sip.

“The cold never bothered me anyway,” he chuckled as he finished the drink. The glass shattered in his hand, crystal fragments spilled on the floor. “Come now, do show yourself. I’ve no quarrel with you though my feelings are a little hurt.” He shook his head in dismay, clicking his tongue.

A flurry of ice stormed into the room, projecting frost within the vicinity. The dance ended as the crystal particles revealed a woman donned in a black and gold dress. Her ivory face was devoid of emotion, but her temperament spoke otherwise. That woman always had an inclination for the theatrics.  

“Ah, the heavenly ice goddess herself appears before me of her own accord.” Ardyn rose from his chair, removing his fedora as he bowed humbly. Though his grin was amicable, anger glinted in his amber eyes. “I must be truly blessed.”

“You lost the Gods’ favor.” The raven-haired woman brought her hands forward, the movement as gradual as glaciers coming together. “The stars no longer shine for you, fallen king.”

“I’ve made my dwelling in the darkness.” The man sighed as he readjusted his hat. “After all that has happened, still you live. I’m rather curious why you persist using that form, masquerading as something you’re not.” He paused, hissing a word as it was vile through clenched teeth, “Human.”

“A question I pose to you,” The Glacian reached out to touch the chancellor’s ageless and handsome mask. “You call yourself Ardyn Izunia.” The illusion came undone, gold pupils glinted violently through obsidian, tan complexion paled, and the ebony blood oozed from his hollow eyes and cracked lips, dousing the Messenger’s hand in its viscous taint. “Now the vessel emulates its essence.”

Demonic. Grotesque. Unclean. Accursed. Let the entire universe bear witness to his true face. The form bestowed when he was denied to pass over and condemned to eternal life. He was no longer human.

The Immortal Accursed snarled with penetrating roar and lashed out, his grip a vise around Gentiana’s throat. The Messenger’s head jerked back by the impact, but her emerald eyes bore down on him. His fingers dug deeply, searching for vitals to snuff out, crush and claw until nothing remained of her. It was unfortunate for him that the Glacian’s life couldn’t be ended in such a crude method.

Gentiana’s other hand joined on the Accursed’s face, fingers delicately wiping at the scorned sludge. They were reminiscent to tears though she doubted that he shed them still.

He was a vessel of darkness and it poured out of him endlessly; submerge the both of them in this very room, if it were possible. She soiled her hands, anointing the sanctity of her office with Ardyn’s taint. Before him, she was a sinner, embalming for a funeral, but the man knew no grave, thus, he had no need for one.

Ardyn ceased squeezing and in a huff of disgust, almost as if he lost interest, released Gentiana. The Astral lowered her hands, sludge evaporated harmlessly out of existence. The Accursed’s exposed mask lingered for a moment before the man she knew as the former King of Light stood before her. His face never left her dreams. Old wounds carved deeply into the goddess’s soul as Gentiana had guided and loved Lunafreya as immensely and passionately as she did this man.

He couldn’t end her life no more than she could his.

Even when she wished destruction upon the pariah who brought harm to the prophet.

Gentiana’s beloved Lunafreya. It wasn’t the Oracle who granted the Glacian reprieve and boundless solicitude, but the woman behind the authority.

The goddess felt the bonds she forged with the Accursed and the Oracle still, if not more strongly than ever. Those connections were all that remained. Time of separation and death could never sever them.

“Eirlys.”

Gentiana’s heart crashed like an avalanche  against her rib cage. She had not heard that name in a long time, having discarded it when she was reincarnated as Gentiana. Those that knew that name had been permitted entry to the Kingdom of the Dead, Ardyn was the only exception who bore knowledge of it. Eirlys was never Gentiana’s true persona, but it was an element of herself. Part of her resonated strongly to the past and all the memories she held dear and promises gone unfulfilled with it.

“Why are you here?” The inquiry was void of malice and honeyed threats. It was hollow and splintering. When Gentiana looked to him, Ardyn’s eyes were no longer hot coals in a fire but mirth curled a corner of his mouth. “Revenge? To declare war? To ask for my forgiveness? Why, my snowdrop Messenger, does the passage of time run by too slowly for the Six? Even though it’s you, I don’t sway to the temptations of the flesh as easily as I did in my youth.”

“It is none of your concern.” The frostbite in her tone went unheeded when the man clicked his tongue.

“Ah, a courtesy call then.”

“A courtesy call would be to those holding reputable offices, correct? What is yours when your actions vanquished an empire and ultimately betrayed those who trusted you?”

“Pot calling the kettle black,” Ardyn sighed deeply as he extended a hand to the ice goddess. “I hope you see the world has made liars and traitors out the both of us, Eirlys. Allegiances fickle affairs, promises are meant to be broken. Today’s allies become tomorrow’s enemies. What comes up, must come down.” He dramatically made a circular motion. “And etcetera, etcetera. You get the picture. Deities have witnessed the worst of humanity and are no strangers to it themselves.”

“An Astral’s word has and will always be their bond.” Gentiana asserted, apprehension boiled deep within her. It took her back to the day she saw Ardyn’s face and all those promises exchanged came crashing around her. Mortals were indeed cruel.  

“I recall that same gimmick that long ago so don’t delude yourself now,” Ardyn waved off as he walked past Gentiana. “And so you forged a covenant with the Chosen King. Your second choice and only hope. Save one, let your fair maiden die, too little, too late, to stop the darkness that’s to come.”

Lunafreya’s death was unavoidable but Gentiana didn’t expect her to fall at the Walls of Water. The Astral couldn’t bear the alternative even if the Oracle survived, a vessel of otherworldly power succumbing to rotting flesh and uncooperative limbs, her beloved Lunafreya paralyzed for life, losing all functionality of what made her human until her mind remained. Drowning was a mercy in comparison to fading out of existence and Gentiana knew she had no regrets.

Lunafreya had asked Gentiana not to intervene, to then form a covenant with the King of Stone to bring light back to the world. It was the most excruciating order the Glacian had to follow, she after all sought mankind’s salvation from the plague.

There was nothing else that needed to be said, Gentiana realized. She wished that she found solace in seeing her former charge and lover once more. The Glacian didn’t come to wish the peace or to free him from a millennia-old curse. There was only one king, rightful and true, who she willfully tethered herself to and even then, she had her own objectives to see to fruition.

Perhaps in another life…

“What will become of you, Ardyn Lucis Caelum?” Though Gentiana already knew the outcome of Ardyn’s plan. A goddess of death needn’t a crystal ball or tarot cards to predict the end of the Caelum bloodline. What began in blood, must also end in blood and the world would become whole again.

Would she see Ardyn welcomed to the Gates of the Undead?

“Never you fret, my dear. I’ve always been a man of no consequences. Ah, don’t tell me that there’s still a flame in that tundra you call a heart.”

Ardyn turned around, finding that the goddess was no longer there. She left no trace of her existence, but he would always remember this conversation until the end.

“My heart will always belong to you.” Ardyn whispered, remnants of his former self, a humanity he thought long forgotten, loathed the emptiness. “As it always had.”

[expressandadmirable]

Dixon’s Girl

(CW: Abuse)

“Ale for you.”

Lux glanced at the barman with a confused frown, her bow sliding across the strings without missing a note. “Who from?”

“The gentleman in the far booth,” the barman answered, setting the mug on the table at Lux’s elbow; the tone of his response made it clear the man in question was a gentleman only in rank and title. As he departed, Lux leaned over to peer into the mug. The red. The most expensive ale the tavern offered. The kind of gift that came with expectations.

Looking up from the mug, Lux spied the booth in the far corner of the tavern. The man was handsome for a Human, with dark hair and a lean face, but the confidence of his smirk and the pointedness of his gaze made her skin crawl. This was a man thoroughly used to getting exactly what he wanted. More concerning, however, was the young woman next to him: curved and pretty, she smiled whenever the man spoke in her direction, but it never reached her eyes and vanished as soon as he looked away. She was playing her part well, but behind the mask, she was terrified.

After a moment, she realised where she had seen the man before: a fortnight prior, at court, when she had been invited to play with a small orchestra for some of the nobility. He had been in the audience, though the woman on his arm at that performance had been different. She had been older, more self-possessed, and infinitely bored with the sedateness of the music. Lux could only assume that woman had been his wife. This new woman was definitely not.

She watched them as she played. He talked almost incessantly, making broad gestures to indicate his points and laughing loudly at his own jokes. She smiled, nodded, offered the occasional response which he largely ignored. From time to time he would point at Lux, leaning close and whispering to the woman with a lascivious smile. His desires for the evening were so abundantly, unavoidably clear that under normal circumstances they would have made Lux laugh. He was going to be sorely disappointed.

Lux waited until the man turned to flag down a barmaid and caught the woman’s eye. She murmured something to herself, her lips barely moving, but the jerk of the woman’s head told her the magic had gone through: Are you okay? The woman blinked, her eyes darting nervously around her before settling back on Lux. She shook her head very slightly. The Tiefling nodded, incanted again: My set is almost through. Tell him you want to meet me. I’ll be at the bar. Trust me. The woman did not move a muscle, but the intensity of her stare was all the confirmation Lux needed.

When she finished her last song, Lux stood, bowed, stowed her violin and made her way to the bar, bringing the untouched ale with her. Pressing a coin onto the varnished wood, she told the barkeep she needed a room immediately, no questions. The barkeep nodded, took her coin and handed her a small key with a leather number tag. Lux palmed the key and took a deep swig of ale. Now it was time for the real show.

“You there! Bard!”

Somehow managing to keep her eyes from rolling out of her skull, Lux turned to see the man approaching, his arm draped casually over the woman’s shoulders. She lifted her mug and tipped her head. “My lord. Are you my patron this evening?”

“I most certainly am! A fine performance, bard. Truly magnificent! Quite a difference from your appearance at court the other day. Clearly, this is where you’re in your element.” Lux noted the subtle backhandedness of the man’s words, but did not interrupt. Let him play out his part. “My mistress--” he squeezed his arm around the woman’s neck, “--was very taken by your music.” He smashed a kiss onto the woman’s temple, but kept his eyes on Lux. “Of course, I promised her an introduction. She’s just anxious to meet you.” Gods, deliver us from this man’s libido.

“Naturally.” Lux smiled her best smile and extended her hand. When the woman cautiously took it, Lux sank into a dramatic bow, using the motion to pull her a step forward and out of the man’s grip. She kissed the woman’s hand as she straightened. “Lux. A pleasure to meet you, my lady.”

Before the woman could introduce herself in return, the man barked a laugh. “Oh, she’s no lady! There’s no need for that. She’s a shoemaker’s daughter. She’s here with me because she’s the prettiest shoemaker’s daughter in all Corneria.”

“Is that so, my lord?” Lux responded mildly, not letting go of the woman’s hand. “And what brings a gentleman such as yourself to this humble establishment?”

The man leaned rakishly against the bar, his ego almost visibly puffing, and raised his hand in declaration. “I love taverns! This part of town is always the best place to find entertainment. It’s all so… rustic! Simple food, common ales…” He spied Lux’s hand wrapped around the woman’s and fixed her with a grin. “...Talented women. There’s something for everyone here. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Of course, my lord.” Gently, Lux placed the woman’s hand on her hip, sliding her arm around her waist. The woman’s eyes widened, watching Lux closely, but she accepted the Tiefling’s embrace.

“Oh I’m so glad.” The man looked them up and down, his eyes positively burning. “Now, as your evening’s patron, I should very much like to take a room upstairs and commission a private performance for my mistress and myself.” He licked his lips.

For a long moment, Lux pretended to consider the man’s offer. She drew the woman close, carefully angling their bodies to move her safely behind her and out of the man’s reach. “Yes.” With the woman at her back, she regarded the man. “And… No.”

He blinked. “What?”

“No, my lord. No private performances this evening.”

“Excuse me?” the man spluttered. “You can’t-- I’ve-- What is it you want, then? I’ll pay double!” His obliviousness to the fact he had just been played like a lute was almost endearing.

“Pay?” Lux asked, unfazed. “Does this look like a brothel to you, my lord? If you need one, I can make recommendations.”

“What-- You vulgar cow! How dare you spurn me! Your kind should be grateful for the attention, you hellish beast! I can’t believe I wasted my time with you and your pitiful music.” For a split second, he looked about to spit in her face, but instead he turned with a flourish. “Come, darling. We’re leaving.”

“She’s not going anywhere with you.”

The man stopped. Slowly, he turned, his face crimson with rage. “What did you say to me?”

The tavern fell silent, every eye fixed on the scene. Lux slipped her hand behind her back and felt the woman take the room key from her open palm. She spoke slowly, stalling until the woman’s footsteps receded. “I said, she’s not going anywhere with you, my lord.”

“You good-for-nothing blasphemous whore!” The man drew himself up to his full height, which might have been intimidating had he not been a full three inches shorter than the Tiefling. “You deny me satisfaction and take my woman from me?! This is outrageous! I shan’t stand for it! Do you know who I am?!”

“First of all,” Lux growled, also drawing up to her full height, “she’s not your woman. Second, I’m guessing you only bring her to taverns in this part of town so you can have your fun without your wife finding out. Am I correct, sir? So your goodly wife doesn’t discover her noble husband is a liar and a cheat? You can’t hide your sins from me, sir, because I do know who you are. So here’s what’s going to happen: you’re going to walk out that door and never seek your former mistress’s company again. You will allow her to go free and speak of her to no-one. If I hear even a rumour you’ve darkened her doorstep again, I will go straight to your wife and tell her everything I know. How does that sound?”

“You wouldn’t,” the man breathed, genuine fear creeping into his fury. “She’d-- She’d never believe a creature like you!”

“I would, and she will. In fact,” she added, leaning close enough to kiss him, “I’ll make the story even better. I’ll tell everyone in every tavern that you and I are passionate lovers, that you spend every day just waiting to empty yourself into this hell. Word will spread, believe you me. Everyone will know you like to fuck devil spawn. And what will your fellows at court say then?”

“But that’s-- That’s not true!”

Lux shrugged. “You wanted it to be. What do I care if it’s true or not?” She smirked. “They say anyone can fuck their way into the nobility if they’re dedicated enough. Maybe it’ll get me a court appointment. Wouldn’t that be fun?” She dropped the sneer, her voice lowering. “Or, you can turn around, right now, and get. out.”

Speechless, the man weighed his options. The entire room watched intently. Finally, his hands balled into fists, the man spat at Lux’s feet, muttered a curse and stormed out of the tavern.

Taking a deep breath, Lux looked out across the sea of silent patrons. “How many of you saw what he was doing to her?” she asked, her voice cold with fury. Several faces dropped their gaze. “I could see it from across the fucking room. How many of you saw, and did nothing? You let some knobhead in a fancy doublet abuse one of your own, in your own house, and you did nothing. Because, what? He’s rich? He has rank? He deserves to get what he wants? It’s too much godsdamned trouble?” She scanned the room; no-one met her eyes. She shook her head in disgust. “And they say I’m evil.” Picking up her violin case, she mounted the stairs to the upper floor.

Room four. Lux knocked lightly. No answer. “My lady? It’s Lux. ...The bard. It’s alright now.” No answer. She wondered if she had the wrong room. Then the lock clicked and the door creaked open to reveal the woman behind it. She was younger than Lux but not by much, her auburn hair pinned into elaborate braids, her green eyes wide with fear. The faded remains of a bruise ringed one eye socket. “Are you okay?”

The woman nodded, opening the door further. “Come in.” As soon as Lux entered, she closed the door and locked it again. “He’s really gone?”

“Yeah. Lord Fuck-a-Duck shouldn’t be bothering you anymore.” Lux smiled. “You’re free.”

Without warning, the woman threw her arms around the Tiefling. “Oh thank you! Thank you thank you thank you thank you--” She kissed her hard, cutting off her own words.

For a moment Lux melted into the kiss, then realised what she was doing and pulled back with a start. “Hey, whoa, hang on. Back up.” She wriggled out of the woman’s arms, trying to calm her suddenly racing pulse. “Okay. Okay. Hey. Let’s start at the beginning. What’s your name?”

“Maria,” the woman answered. “Is something wrong?” she asked, noticing Lux’s slight flinch.

“No, no. Just a similar name to someone I once knew. Sorry.” Lux stepped over to the table, flipping a chair around and settling backwards onto it, a posture as defensive as it was disarming. “What’s your story, Maria? How did you come to be here?”

“Um, there’s not a lot to tell, really.” Maria sat on the edge of the bed, her hands folded nervously in her lap. “I’m a shoemaker’s daughter, that much is true. My father owns a shop near the canal. Mortimer’s.”

Lux nodded. “I know the place.” If it was the shop she was thinking of, Maria’s father and her own mother bought leather from the same tannery. Her father was a good enough man by all accounts, but she knew he gave her mother dirty looks when they crossed paths.

Maria blinked. “You do? Are you from around here?” Lux nodded again, and it took Maria a moment to realise she was not going to elaborate. “Right… My father makes a lot of specialty shoes for the upper class, and since I help out around the shop, he often asks me to deliver them. That’s how I met him. He had ordered shoes.” She bit her lip. “He seemed so… elegant, at first. He was well-read and had good taste, and he kept telling me how pretty I was. He bought me gifts and took me places. I guess I was charmed. I’d never been courted by a noble before. I thought I loved him.” She looked embarrassed. “But he got off on the secret of it all. The power. He showed me off to his friends, bragged about me, but I could never visit him at home or go with him to court functions. I was never an official mistress. When I started to ask why it had to be that way, he…” She trailed off, one hand moving almost unconsciously to her bruised cheekbone. “And then it got bad.” Finally, she looked up at Lux. “We were out in public all the time, but nobody saw. Or if they did, they pretended not to. I thought I was trapped. How did you know?”

“Because I’ve been there,” Lux answered softly.

“Ohh…” Maria breathed, looking at the Tiefling with such deep pity it nearly made her fidget in her seat. “How did you… What happened?”

“Pretty girl, bad choices. Got hooked. Realised I was miserable, eventually left. Tried to repair the damage.” Lux did not like to talk about herself, least of all her most vulnerable moments. The conversation made her want a cigarette.

“But you’re safe now.” It was almost a question. “You came out the other side.”

Lux sighed. “Yeah. I guess I did.” She stood, sliding the chair back under the table. “You’ll be okay. It’ll take time, and it will hurt a lot, but you can rebuild from here. When you hit bottom, the only way to go is up.” Before she could pick up her violin case, Maria rose, catching Lux’s hand in hers. Her other arm snaked around Lux’s waist, bringing them close.

“Please stay.”

“Maria,” Lux protested weakly, “you seem like a nice girl, but you’ve just been through something pretty serious. Maybe you should sleep on it--”

“I want you. You make me feel safe.” Maria smiled. “I’ve never met one of your kind. I thought you’d be frightening, but… you’re not. You’re an angel.”

Lux scoffed. “I’m really not.”

“You are to me.” Maria stepped back, taking Lux’s other hand and tugging her toward the bed. “Just stay with me for a little while? Even if you disappear and I never see you again, I want to keep this.”

The Tiefling well knew her lack of willpower when it came to pretty women, but just this once, something inside her made her stand her ground. “How about this,” she offered, squeezing Maria’s hands. “I’ll stay tonight, all night.” She dipped her head and kissed her gently, chastely. “But not for this. You don’t need that right now. I’ll stay for you.” Releasing her, Lux rounded the other side of the bed, kicking off her boots and unbuckling her belt. Maria watched her until she lay down, still clad in trousers and kurta, then smiled shyly and bent to take off her own boots. She unlaced her bodice and left it on the floor, crawling in beside Lux in her blouse and skirt, curling against her side and resting her head on her shoulder.

“Thank you.”

Lux wrapped her arms around the woman. “Sure thing.”

Within minutes, Maria was asleep, her breathing deep and even. In the darkness, Lux followed the wood grain of the ceiling beams, thinking idly about the past. Eventually she, too, drifted off to sleep.