#how to write dual timelines

[creativepromptsforwriting]

Do you have any tips when it comes to writing a dual timeline?

For example: It's the apocalypse. The first chapter starts in the present. Apocalypse in full swing (like day 238 or smth) and then the next chapter jumps to Day 1 to slowly give a gimplse at what happened. Nad somewhere in the middle the timelines "meet" and its just one timeline

How to write dual timelines

Writing a story with dual timelines means that the story is being told from two different perspectives, each happening at another time. The POV can still come from the same person, but often the timelines are being told from the POV of someone else that has a connection to the other timeline and protagonist. The timelines can be only hours apart (often in crime stories) or hundreds of years apart.

When using your example of a few days apart, I would focus on the commonalities and also the differences that can be seen in just the span of a few weeks. How much has changed and what little things have stayed the same and why?

Both timelines need a reason for being used in the story. This structure needs to add depth to the plot and it can be used to reveal plot twists and overall enhance the narrative.

When talking about structure, the stories with dual timelines are often structured in a way that they jump back and forth between the timelines. You can start off by getting the readers invested in one timeline and then start switching it with the other timeline.

The problem with dual timelines can be that readers are more interested in one timeline then the other. So be careful to give both of them a good enough storyline and purpose for the whole story to be interesting and relevant for the reader.

So, the most important thing to remember is to find a good balance and to connect the timelines well enough that the flow seems seamless and it shows why both of the timelines are needed for the whole story to unfold.

Pro tip: Use some aspects (conflict, interests, worries, places, etc.) that are going on in both stories and when switching to the other timeline, carry whatever the first protagonist was doing or thinking over to the second protagonist.

- Jana

[manyothermusingsofmine]

Made the mistake of thinking about the logistics of ace attorney but I came to the conclusion that like, ofcourse everyone is unhinged; you'd be unhinged too if your work expected you to solve murders and prevent people from being falsely imprisoned in the great, long timespan of 72 HOURS PER CASE.

[lunarflare64]

Back when we thought we were a singlet, someone once commented on our chatfic saying the dialogue and flow felt so natural and real, and we were flattered because we were (and still are) friendless and had never really been active in a group chat, and the few times we were in a group chat at all we didn't stay long

Anyways thats really funny now as a system, on the rare occasion where we remember we have multiple methods for texting each other

That flow looks familiar

[tea-cat-arts]

Ranking mxtx couples by whether or not I think they'd be good parents

(I'm 90% sure I'm forgetting someone)

Yep, next question (S)-

Wangxian: tried and tested good dads. I wish them luck with the whole “trying to get wwx pregnant” thing 

They have some shit to work through, but after that I think they'd be fine (A)-

Ling Wen/ Bai Jin: if we're just going off the original publication, I would put them in a much lower tier, but since the revised edition added that thing about them raising orphans together and said orphans turning out alright before unfortunate circumstances, I'm putting them up here. I think they'll be alright once they work through the miscommunication

Xiao Xingchen/ Song Lan: They obviously have a lot of trauma they're working through, but I'd like to think they and A-Qing will be a loving family in the long run 

One of them would be a good parent, the other wouldn't be a bad parent (B)-

Jiang Yanli/ Jin Zixuan: there's no canon reason for me putting them this low. Jin Zixuan just gives off a mediocre parent vibe to me (and we all know Jiang Yanli is the best)

Yushipei: Yushi Huang has good mom energy, and Pei Ming has been shown to be a not terrible mentor. I'd want the misogyny fully beaten out of him with a mace before I'd think he should have kids of his own though 

Lang Qianqiu/ Little Guy: at the very least, they're making sure Guzi is fed, clothed, washed, vaccinated, and has access to education. Neither of them know what they're doing, but I think Little Guy is good at faking it. I wish them luck in their upcoming custody battle  

You know what, surprise me/ I'll hear you out (C)-

Bingqiu: My first instinct is “no, do not bring kids into this,” but then I remembered tharnShen Qingqiu has a surprisingly decent track record? Like, Ning Yingying and Ming Fan both turned out a lot more health than they did in the original novel, and though I wouldn't call him in a good place, Binghe is doing a lot better than Bingge. The wild card for me here is Luo Binghe because I have no idea how he'd be with kids

Quanyin: Yin Yu had a decent track record until he was pushed into snapping. I think rn, he needs a couple centuries of being a babygirl before he's ready to parent again. No idea how Quan Yizhen would do though 

Born to “dual income, no kids, rich uncles/aunts” (D)-

Fengqing: Feng Xin is canonically a bad dad. I know he's working on it, but it is what it is. Mu Qing has been shown to be decent with kids, but I think he’d have a melt down if he had to deal with the mess constantly. 

Hualian: I mean, Xie Lian has raised three kids at this point and one of them became a god, another became state preceptor and then sorta complicit in a genocide, and one became god AND committed genocide + he babysat a ghost king for months and didn't even realize that's what he was because it was a miracle if he remembered to feed him… so, a mixed bag. Hua Cheng may be schrodinger’s child hater, but I'm intrigued by the idea of him raising kids just because I want to know how his own childhood would influence his parenting abilities. They should probably just stick to babysitting for now though 

Mingling: Liu Mingyan is too busy writing gay porn to be dealing with kids, and I just can't imagine Sha Hualing as a mom

Please don't bring a kid into this mess (F)-

Beefleaf: Do I need to explain this one?

Mobeishang: Shang Qinghua should not be put in any position where he has to teach someone about consent (Binghe’s early attempts at flirting being a prime example of why that's a bad idea). I also think Mobei Jun is still working on the whole “why hitting people is not cool” thing. 

QiJiu: I think the original timeline is a prime example of how they're just not in a place to be raising kids 

Jun Wu/ Mei Nianqing: Xie Lian would like a refund on his adopted father figures. They had one kid and he only made it to age 20 because he was cursed to not die

[miss-celestia13]

Mask On

Jake x MC - Smut One-Shot

The lovely @hacked-by-jake asked if I could write a smut scene inspired by this meme. I said yes, it’s been a while, and it was a lot of fun; I missed writing smut 🤭 all credit to HBJ; I wrote it, but it was her meme that inspired me enough to do so!

It's sex against a window! So they can watch themselves. And Jake can enjoy the visual of MC coming apart for him while wearing his mask.

It’s also available on Ao3.

With that out the way, I hope you enjoy it 🥰

The MC here is my Manon from Marked Me Like a Bloodstain and other stories. But you don’t have to read those to be able to read this. This is more of an “in another life, we might’ve done this instead” type of thing. It doesn’t fit their current timeline and can be read as its own story.

It is a dual POV. The names are in bold when they change.

———————-

The elevator ascended in slow motion. Or felt that way to Manon. She was a ball of frenetic energy as she stole glimpses of Jake from her periphery and edged ever closer. He was remarkably tight-lipped despite the filth that spilled from his lips a mere 24 hours before they arrived.

They were rising to the top floor of a swanky apartment complex he’d brought her to from the airport. She’d known he had a base home hidden in the city and was aware he had money stashed in secret accounts and cash buried in multiple places in Duskwoods forest. However, upon seeing this fancy building, she realized he was wealthy as she caught sight of the formally dressed doorman who required ID on entry and observed the expensive marble floors, polished to a dazzling shine, as they walked over them.

A thousand questions swirled in her overactive mind, but she kept it all inside as the elevator came to a sharp stop. Jake turned to her, a bashful smile curling the corners of his full mouth.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been here. It might be a bit of a mess.” He said, sounding uncertain.

She sidled closer, slipping her hand into his to squeeze, and smirked as she replied, “After all we’ve been through, do you really think a little dust will frighten me?”

He chuckled, lovely and deep, and she fought off a shiver as he led the way out the open doors and into a red-carpeted hallway. The beat of her heart went out of time as they approached a black door, and Jake took out his keys. She let go of his hand and stepped back, pretending she didn’t notice how his hand shook as he turned the key.

An eardrum piercing, loud, robotic screech sliced through the peaceful quiet between them, and Jake hurried inside, beckoning her with a hand as he punched in the code to shut off the alarms.

“Well, that would wake the dead, never mind frighten off an intruder.” She joked to lighten the tension, settling on Jake’s shoulders as he loosed a sigh once the alarm silenced.

As he said, “I couldn’t let myself get caught unawares,” he reached up and scratched the back of his neck, continuing, “It had to be loud enough that I’d hear it through my headphones.”

She nodded as they kicked off their shoes, surveying the expansive apartment as Jake locked the door. Her eyes skipped the other closed doors she assumed led to his bedroom and the room she’d seen in their first video call. The sparsely furnished space held little personality; the most dominant feature was a massive dark couch by the floor-to-ceiling windows.

She suspected the stretched around the whole building.

“I’m guessing they treat those windows in a way that allows only you to see out and prevents anyone from looking in?” She asked when Jake seemed anxious about her thoughts on how he once lived.

He gave her a sly smirk and slid a hand around her waist to guide her into the living area before he spoke. She watched him in the window reflection.

“You guess right. I can’t have a drone appearing outside and catching sight of me.”

She wanted to cry for him, but knew he wouldn’t want her pity. Manon did what she did best—distracted him.

“And where do exhausted hackers sleep when they finally run out of caffeine?”

With a suggestive brow waggle, she turned to face him and grinned so extensively that she wouldn’t have been surprised if he could see her wisdom teeth.

Jake laughed, stepping closer and staring at her as he said, “We sleep wherever we fall. But I assume you’re looking to rummage through my bedroom. Unfortunately, you’ll be disappointed. There’s just a bed and a gun safe in there.”

“You really know how to get my blood going. Guns and a bed? What more could a girl want? Come on, show me!” She teased, grabbed his hand, and tugged until he allowed her to drag him behind her.

He laughed as she flung open the door and came to a stuttering halt.

“I warned you. I rarely used this room,” he said.

She cast her gaze around the ample space and shook her head. He hadn’t been lying. There was only a double bed and a safe cunningly disguised as a nightstand decorating the room. Or so she thought. Her feet were moving toward the black and white object hanging on a hook beside the bed. It was in her hands before she could recall giving her body the command to move.

Jake had worn the scuffed and cracked Guy Fawkes mask during his video calls. Without thinking, she turned it over and pulled the elastic attached to the back and shoved the mask over her head. It severely limited her peripheral vision, the hard plastic cut into her jaw, and it smelled slightly sweet and sour. A blend of chemicals and sweat, she thought.

She was so engrossed in her own thoughts she didn’t notice Jake had gone wholly still as though petrified.

“Don’t tell me you actually wore this on a regular basis? It’s terribly uncomfortable. I thought it was just for me, so I wouldn’t be able to describe you if Bloomgate ever got off his ass and did some work!”

There was a long pause, and Jake seemed to take a steadying breath as she cut her eyes to him. He practically trembled as she frowned at him.

“What’s wrong? Is there some strange rule that only you can wear this mask?” She enquired when he only fisted his hands and groaned softly.

He shook his head. His pupils had blown wide, black swamping the blue, and his fingers spasmed at his sides as though he wanted to reach for her. It hit her like a slap, and she grinned behind the mask, adopting a nonchalant stance as her muscles went loose and she sauntered closer to him.

“Are you going to answer me? Or has an invisible cat caught your tongue?”

It was as if she electrocuted him. He shuddered, blinked heavily, and said in a sheepish tone, “What were the questions?”

She choked down a gleeful laugh and swished her hips as she approached him. Her dress swirled around her knees as she moved and she lay a hand on his chest to feel the rapid fluttering under his skin.

“I asked if you really wore this mask while working, Jake. Keep up, love.” She taunted, tilting her head and tapping her fingers over his pounding heart.

Jake reached up and rested his hand over hers as he shook his head, grinning freely, saying, “It’s an annoying accompaniment to my lifestyle. I have faith in my ability to prevent people from getting through my intensive security measures. Still, if someone manages to view me through the webcam, they won’t see anything they can identify.”

“Clever. Handsome, intelligent, and you have a filthy mouth on you? Are you real, or am I dead and in heaven?” She said in a sing-song voice, edging into his personal space until her senses were filled with him. She reached up and shoved the mask up so it rested atop her head.

He didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around her and replied, “I don’t know about that, but I’m real. It’s you I’m wondering about.”

She smirked, winding her arms around his neck as she said, “And what are you wondering about me?”

Jake drew a deep breath, pulling her closer, eyes flicking to the mask on her head and back to her again.

“You’re wicked, infuriating, and so beautiful. I’m terrified I’ll mess you up.”

With a purr in her voice, she said, “If you don’t mess me up, I’ll be sorely disappointed.”

It wasn’t what he meant; she knew his fears of dragging her down with him, but she was prepared to fight for him. The air between them was electric. A thrumming current seeped under her skin and made her restless; her eyes dipped to his mouth. His gaze did the same to her, neither wanting to break the spell as the delicious tension threaded through them.

She felt like a moth at a candlelight vigil whenever she was around him—overwhelmed, unable to keep still, and desperate to share his light.

He pressed his forehead to hers. They were sharing breath, and her lips tingled as familiar impatience itched at her and demanded she push up on her toes and close the distance.

Time seemed to halt as she waited for him to make a move; her voice was little more than an airy breath as she said, “Do you want to kiss me now or later? Or both?”

His response was instantaneous. “Both.”

She chuckled, low and throaty, and said, “Good answer,” before taking the lead and digging her fingers into his hair to pull him down to her.

The first brush of his lips on hers was the sweetest. His deep groan as she plastered herself to his front and silently encouraged him to kiss her forcefully sent a wave of lovely heat rolling out from her center. He listened to her unspoken demand, much to her delight.

His hands splayed wide on her back. One slid up to cup the back of her neck, the other settled on the base of her spine and tugged her flush against his rapidly hardening cock. She almost whined as his bristled mouth bruised hers, coaxing her open, and his tongue slipped inside to slide along hers as she sighed in relief.

Glittering, scalding heat surged through her, turning her liquid between her thighs and making her hands shake as she lightly pulled his hair as though to drag him inside her. She forgot about seeing his hacker hideout as his sharp teeth nipped and his plush mouth ruled hers.

She wasn’t a religious woman, but when he kissed and touched her like this, she felt like she was holy. The silly, dramatic thought made her smile into his addictive lips as their breathing grew labored and their hands wandered.

She didn’t know where to touch first. All of him. Preferably draped all over her.

Her fingers roamed along his broad shoulders and back again, climbing up his neck to cup his bearded jaw as his tongue flicked in her mouth and his hands gripped her hips mean.

Chemistry sizzled between them like a pot of rich, thick molten chocolate begging to be indulged and she was nothing if not a greedy woman. His knee parted her thighs, and she whimpered as it pressed against where she burned for him.

The skimpy underwear she wore was already soaked as she wriggled against the hard length trapped between them and gave into the urge to grind down on his muscled thigh. Sparks shot through her like tiny lightning strikes. Their kissing turned wet, sloppy, and utterly filthy.

A thrill shimmered down her spine, setting her entire nervous system alight and making breathing difficult. What little air she could suck in. Jake stole it right from her mouth. Heat built to a blaze inside her and her empty cunt clenched in complaint as his hands moved to grasp her ass and began kneading her until she was in a frenzy of sensation and painful anticipation.

She nipped at his plump bottom lip, teeth sinking in and pulling, a whine leaving her as she felt him smirking into it. Her pulse flickered in her neck. The shake in her hands turned to a quake, and she needed him to touch her. She needed him to fuck her before she came out of her sweat and gooseflesh adorned skin.

He tasted wild and sweet and felt like home. A place she’d long given up finding until he appeared in her path. She was desperate to have him inside her.

Jake felt Manon’s distress as her body shivered and tautened under his hands. He hadn’t expected that her wearing the mask would have such a profound effect on him. His painfully hard cock twitched as he teased her tongue with his and bent at the knee, sliding his hands down the back of her parted thighs to grab hold of her and hoist her up.

Her legs wreathed around his waist and locked in place. Captivated by the little sounds she made and the way she fit perfectly into all his hollow spaces.

Her enveloping body was a warm embrace of sunshine, wrapping around him like a cocoon and melting the night’s chill from his bones. The heat emanating from her scalded him as he blindly walked over to the wall of windows and pinned her against it.

Freeing a hand, he flattened it on the window beside her head as his other hand tapped her thigh. She hesitated all of a second before catching on and unwound her legs from his waist as he reluctantly parted from her mouth to help her stand on weak knees. His heart trembled in his panting chest as she looked at him with eyes full of trust and smoky lust. Their emerald color had darkened to evergreen as she licked at her swollen lips and waited for his next move.

He eyed the mask perched precariously on her head and decided. She liked it when he bossed her around.

“Turn around, step back, and face the window.”

He moved away to give her space and smiled when she immediately did as he bid. The flimsy dress she wore had buttons from the neckline to the hem, all down her front, and his fingers itched to tug it open, but he held it back as she met his eye in the window reflection.

“Good. Now, put the mask on, Sweetheart,” he ordered in an undertone he barely recognized.

He watched her as she swallowed thickly and shifted on her bare feet. Time slowed to a crawl as he observed her hands lifting and grabbing the mask, slipping it down to cover her face as he nodded in approval.

A sparkling, fizzing sensation trickled down his spine and swirled in his lower back, sweeping through all of him and he was hard enough to hammer nails as he swept her long hair up in hand. He let the pale strands rest over her shoulder and dropped his head to the side of her throat he’d bared for his teeth.

He ran his nose down the elegant column of her neck and inhaled her warm, spicy scent and let it feed the desire racing through his bloodstream. She trembled as he brushed his lips over her rattling pulse and bit down. He banded an arm around her to keep her upright as she gave a muffled moan and her knees failed her.

The scent of her arousal, heavy with musk, was a humid warmth cloaking them both as he sucked and bit her skin, a swipe of his tongue over the small hurt so she murmured his name. His cock jumped at the sound of it. There were so many emotions packed into that four-letter name of his. He wasn’t entirely sure he deserved them yet, but he wouldn’t tell her that.

He glanced at the window as his hands moved to her full breasts and cupped them, enjoying the weight of them in his palms as he watched them in the night dark window.

Manon stopped seeing the incredible view of the city as Jake teased her sensitive flesh, nipples stiffening to hard peaks, and the wetness between her legs turned to a drenching flood.

If he didn’t have that devouring look in his eyes, she would feel foolish wearing the mask, but his feverish touch and harsh breathing conveyed his desire was at a level she had never seen from him. Excitement turned her legs to water as he grasped the neckline of her dress. She gasped in shock and giddy pleasure as he tore it wide open. The fragile buttons were no challenge for him. They popped free and clattered off the window as he hurriedly dragged it down her arms and exposed her nearly naked body to his starving eyes.

Sweat trailed down her face as she ignored the ache eating away at her fast failing patience. Her mouth went dry as she saw his reflection take off his t-shirt and jeans, hands fisting at her sides as she waited for his move. His boxers and socks soon joined the rest of clothes on the floor and his fiery body melted into hers from behind.

She ground her ass against his hard cock. Wetness dripped down her inner thighs as her mind skipped ahead and she needed him inside her before she exploded from the ardour burning through her. She luckily didn’t have to wait long before his large hands were on her again.

He latched his fingers into the elastic back of her mask and firmly pulled her head back. His other hand slid around her hip and traveled to her weeping cunt, teasing her soaked folds through her underwear. His fingertips traced the shape of her like a rhapsody, each taunting stroke composing a symphony of desire that echoed through her entire being.

Her head lolled against his chest as he shoved the lace covering her aside and met no resistance as he plunged two fingers into her tight cunt. The strangled moan that left her seemed to bounce off the walls as she felt herself clenching to keep him from leaving her body. Slick and so hot, he groaned. She couldn’t think as he played with her like he’d always known her body.

Her pounding heart and rushing blood muted all sounds as those fingers moved within her taut heat and she ground herself into his hand at his whispered urging. Her cunt clasped and unclasped as he grazed her clit and sent a trail of wheeling stars scattering across her bare skin.

The hand holding her mask slipped to wrap around her throat and the gentle squeeze he gave her was a warning of what was to come. She couldn’t wait for it. The simple action sent her heart thrumming, and she panted into the plastic covering her face. Any discomfort it might’ve caused blasted away by Jake’s obvious delight in it.

His touch unraveled her like a tightly bound scroll, releasing a cascade of longing and urgency that surged through her veins like liquid flame.

Suddenly, he removed his hands from her and stepped away, leaving her swaying as her head spun and she blinked stupidly as he whirled her to face him and ripped the mask off her. He dropped to his knees in front of her and did the same with her underwear, lifting her ankles one by one to help her step out of them. He tossed them both aside without a care as he crowded her until her overheated skin met the cold window. She hissed in shock as her head thudded back to meet his ravenous gaze.

“I want to taste my name on your tongue as I fuck you,” he said in a voice like a growl.

She squeezed her legs together to counter the ache as her empty cunt clamped around nothing and her essence glazed her inner thighs.

She formed three words, but they were enough. “Fuck me then.”

His smirk was salacious. They pounced on each other, and he quickly caught her. She extinguished his midnight chuckle with a dirty kiss and he trapped her between him and the window. He reached under her to palm his cock.

Her hips tilted as he ran the fat head of him through her saturated folds and sank inside her so fast she had no time to prepare as he stretched and filled her so completely she didn’t have room for the air in her lungs. Her nails clawed at his shoulders, mouth agape and gasping as his hand smoothed loose strands of damp hair away from her sweaty face.

The maddening pressure built and built as he remained unmoving to let her acclimate to his sudden invasion. Her hips rolled, and she used his shoulders for purchase to lift and drop back down, taking him to the hilt, both groaning as she slowly softened for him.

He muttered her name as he let her breathe and studied her face as she shook in his arms. Part of her worried the treatment on the windows only went so far and someone in the building across from them might get the show of a lifetime. But most of her didn’t care if that was true. Let them watch.

Jake had gone still, muscles jumping and quivering as she made soft little noises of frustration as that intense pressure demanded a release. Her skin stuck to the glass and there was an audible sound as he peeled her off it and he at last moved. Shallow darts of his cock inside her to open her up and rile her further.

His strength thrilled her, no strain as he hefted her up and finally, finally slammed her down on his rigid cock. Her rapturous cry of pleasure sliced through their heavy breaths and the vulgar smack of flesh meeting flesh. Fingers dug into her ass as he fucked her, planting violets and giving him more leverage to ruin her.

Every deep caress of his cock inside her dripping cunt set her ablaze, a wildfire of untamed passion consuming her as she surrendered to the exhilarating storm of sensation. When he kissed her, she clung to his hair, fingers weaving through the black strands until she could use it to hold him captive against her whining mouth.

He tasted like sin, felt like heaven and looked like hers all at once, and she could only hold on. It was as though someone had flain the first layer of her skin to expose her nerves. Even the whisper of air pressing against her skin as his hand braced on the window sent a bolt of fire down her torso.

His lips branding hers, his thumping heart that matched the beat of her own, and the heady, clean scent of his skin. She wanted to never forget a single detail. They had earned this. Through blood and sweat and fire, they had earned this and she would be damned if she didn’t take all he offered her. Tension coiled in her core as his thrusts fell out of rhythm and each one shunted her up the window.

As his tongue teased hers, she yanked on his hair, feeling owned by him and getting swept away. Drowning in the blistering sea of their shared desire. The heat in her abdomen grew out of control, but it was nothing compared to the fire she had kindled in Jake. All the awkwardness in him had vanished, and he fucked her like he’d never get the chance to do so again.

He stole moan after moan from her. The sanity eroding tension coiled and coiled until it drove her to the brink of insanity and made it impossible for her to breathe. Her stuttering hips, his thick cock, and her clenching cunt were all she knew, her throaty cries smothered against his stubbled lips as they rubbed her mouth raw.

Hovering on the brink of shattering, Manon sobbed and rocked her hips, freeing a hand from his hair. She worked it between them. The tense skin of her stomach flickered as her fingers ghosted over it and she kept going until she swirled them around her swollen clit.

“Fuck, Manon,” Jake cursed as her inner walls clamped down hard on his cock, making her smile.

A little helpless sound spilled from her as she toyed with herself and the tension in her drew so taut she arched. Jake pounded into her mercilessly, giving her no room to calm down. The sensations and lust were so intense her mind fractured with jagged white light and she struggled to withstand the tremendous pleasure ricocheting through her.

Her body convulsed as she circled her clit and pushed herself to the precipice. Jake sobbed into her mouth as he felt her clench around his cock, burying his face in her neck as his forceful thrusts slowed a little. Bursts of darkness speckled the edges of her vision as her orgasm sparked its warning.

Relief glimmered at the back of her mind as her back arched again and Jake lifted his head to see her face. His voice was a sinful melody she’d been searching for from the beginning of time.

“Come for me, Sweetheart. Take me with you.”

Any thoughts she had left disintegrated at his words. Her fingers swiped that bundle of nerves deliberately again and again. The rough glide of his heavy cock inside her threw her over the edge and she splintered into a million glistering pieces. His kiss smothered her warbling moan of his name as her cunt spasmed around his cock and sucked him in deeper, dragging him down with her as he slammed home one last time and they soon sank to the floor as his legs failed him.

Her twitching, useless body slumped and practically merged into his as he lazily drank from her mouth and ran soothing hands down her slick back. She felt every jump of his cock as he spilled into her, and her inner walls fluttered as the scalding waves of her release rippled out from her core.

How long they sat there in a complete knot of disheveled limbs, kissing and touching. She didn’t keep count. Just reveled in it and in him, as he silently told her he loved her. She shivered from the chill settling in the room at some point and he instantly broke away from her lips, concern in his cobalt eyes that she rushed to comfort.

“I’m just a little cold. Take me to bed and warm me up again.” She winked and smiled softly as the worry in his gaze cleared and he gave her a proud smirk as he eyed the bite mark he’d left on her neck.

“Your wish is my command,” he chuckled, but made no move to get up. She caught sight of the Guy Fawkes mask, and an enticing idea popped into her mind.

“After we sleep a bit and you’re able to go again, it’s your turn to wear the mask.”

A startled laugh burst from him as she nodded seriously and fixed her features into a haughty expression as he said, “Is that an order or a punishment for making you wear it?”

She gave an indolent shrug, committing his smile to memory and hoping to make good on her promise to christen every room in his apartment before they left for Duskwood. There was only one thing left to say.

“It can be both if you’re into it. Pain and pleasure, Jake,” she said in an imperious tone that made him shake his head and she patted his shoulder, jerking her head toward the bedroom door as she finished, “Come on, let’s get food and some sleep. You’ll need your strength later.”

——————————-

Thank you for reading. I hope it was worth your time. If you comment or reblog, thank you so much for that as well❤️

If I have time, I might write another part where Jake wears the mask. But I am busy with many other stories, and it won’t happen anytime soon.

I hope Sunday treats you well!

[llilyrose]

Do you have fic recommendations 👉👈

Of course!

I would recommend my own fic, but... it's still in the works, unfortunately. No mal du pays content for the weak and elderly.

did you really think i wouldn't recommend ghostlight, of all things? especially with my current drawing series, obviously it's good!

It's a postgame fic centered on loop's and siffrin's (mostly loop's) healing processes post-game, where loop has to learn how to be human again. It's 24 chapters long, about 84k words, has an ongoing sequel (though it's on hiatus), and has a tumblr account you can interact with! @ghostlightfic

here are some other postgame fic recommendations:

Bloom And if I were not myself, would this be easier?

@livesworthlivingau Is a postgame au where Siffrin lives on for 30 years after the loops only to loop back when Odile dies in the future. This fic has a dual chapter system, one set of chapters that focuses on Loop and one set of chapters that focuses on Siffrin. This distinction becomes crucial later on. It also, like ghostlight, has a discord to join :3

I haven't read chokehold of a broken family bond myself, but I've heard wonderful things about it from everyone around me!!!! It's a LONG, ongoing AU fic that I'm sure someone else can provide a synopsis for ;)

Follow the Stars Back Home is another fic I have yet to read, but got recommended and decided to check out. It's postgame and focuses more on Siffrin's Island trauma than their Looping trauma, a nicher aspect people don't explore often.

speaking of aus:

Try It Again, Cheater by @moonstandardtime sends Loop back to their original timeline after breaking free from Siffrin's loops. They and their family have to adjust to this drastic Change and suffer the consequences of a timeline they could never remember.

To Extend our Reach to the Stars Above is a Villain Siffrin au where they meet the King before the party! It's one of only a few fics that explore this concept, all of which are so so interesting to me. Check it out!

Timeloop Support Group by @pixxyofice is a fic about therapy done from the pov of Siffrin and focuses on timeloop trauma. The twist? The people they're stuck with are au versions of their friends who got trapped in time loops themselves!

featured aus:

In Tales and Time (Odile) by @/tealgoat In Cycles and Cessation (Mira) by @/the-bitter-ocean Of Stitches in Sequence by @/basilpaste (which also has two fics on ao3, but i recommend viewing the au on everyone's profiles instead)

-- Oh, hey, Basilpaste!!! They have more bangers up their sleeve!!!! Slay the Savior is a Slay The Princess fusion au with ISAT that features Isabeau as the protagonist and Siffrin as the princess. Not only is the writing excellent but he thought up new designs for each siffrin on each path!!! Not to mention thinking up new paths, too! It's on hiatus, though.

The Dormont Archives are another Basil product, infusing ISAT into The Magnus Archives universe!! Like STS it's done in the style of the media and all of the statements are absurdly creative. It's ongoing with (currently only) 14 chapters, god knows how many planned for the future. (ALSO IT APPARENTLY HAS A DISCORD. I DIDN'T KNOW AABOUT THAT WHILE WRITING IT. go check out basil they put so much effort into this stuff dude 😭)

I've read SO MANY isat fanfics but the majority of them never got bookmarked. Practically all of the ones on ao3 are a good read!!! It's hard to keep track!!! If i missed any of your favorites fanfics on any website, please tell me please. if I've read it it'll get added to the list.

[hephaestiions]

author reclist: toomuchplor

a few months ago, when i was coming back to fandom in earnest, i came across this post from @sitp-recs. explorations of faith, divinity and worship are some of the tropes i find most furiously compelling, so i had to jump into o come, all ye faithful as soon as possible. i did, only to fall headfirst in obsessive, wide-eyed, awe-inspired love. @toomuchplor writes a desire that's both slow and heady, relentless and gentle, all-consuming and a rest stop to breathe easy. i couldn't help but read through (most of) their catalogue in a matter of days. this author's thematic range is astonishing, their characterisations lead to delicious stories where two headstrong, wilful and perennially longing men crash, fumble and rush into achingly sweet love and burning lust.

what always spools me in with plor, though, is their use of circumstance, especially in longer fics. every fic has a premise iron-clad in its fascinating, inventive, raw and exciting potential. more often than not, i've found them doing something i haven't encountered before in fandom at all, or reworking a popular trope in ways that make you go, 'oh. oh, i never thought about that happening, how did i never think of that happening?'

i've loved everything i've read from them, but here's a selection of some of my absolute favourites that i'll be going back to, over and over:

i've got a beautiful feeling (everything's going my way) (E, 3.5k)

“I’ve got such a boner,” Harry says, voice scratchy, just slitting his eyes open now, turning his head on his pillow to face Draco. “Oh, lovely, good morning to you, too,” Draco says.

a slice of life like the plush inside of a ripe mango— a love that's mature, constant, beating like a strong heart. the filthy, hilarious, gorgeous portrait of harry and draco's married life— the familiarity of sex, the rush of wanting each other as much as ever.

o come, all ye faithful & all the angels cry amen (E, ~22k total)

In which Draco finds faith in the church, and Harry finds faith in Draco.

an achingly tender rumination on faith as love, and love as worship. one of the most heartbreaking and realistic depictions of the reckoning it would take for harry potter to accept he has found refuge and rest in draco malfoy's arms. i loved the non-chronological, dual timeline storytelling— that particular form works so well when there's a taut, twinging thread holding both narratives together, and harry and draco's gravitational attraction to each other, fraught in parts and at peace in others was the perfect anchor.

time and too much don't belong together (E, 23k)

A Malfoy family heirloom gets triggered in a raid, binding Draco Malfoy to Ron Weasley; neither of them is too chuffed about this.

a masterclass in revelations. the reader can tell, from the outset, there's more here than meets the eye. the reader can also guess, from the beginning, what the dynamic in the shadows is. tense and breathtaking writing, you know what's coming, but every time you're fed a morsel you cling to it with both hands. one of the most inventive takes i've seen on the lust potion/spell trope in this fandom, and done in a way that makes you want to see it over and over and over again.

polar night/midnight sun (E, 54k)

Harry travels to arctic Norway on the trail of dragon egg poachers, only to find he's been assigned to work alongside the only NorMagPol Auror north of sixty: one Draco Malfoy. It's been ten years since they crossed paths, and Malfoy isn't exactly what Harry expected or remembered. For one thing, he wears a lot more hand-knits? When a sudden winter storm strands the pair, unable to use magic to rescue themselves, they take shelter in a one-room Norwegian hytte.

exquisitely atmospheric. uses extenuating circumstances in some of the most delicious ways. builds character and interpersonal dynamics through those small little elements of storytelling (draco in knitwear! brynjar the dog! the mundane pillowtalk! the quirks of their miscommunication!) that go the longest way in having characters leap off the screen into your personal space. also the sex in this is absolutely mind-blowing, i was hooked on every glorious word.

truth to materials (co-written by lately) (E, 58k)

In which Harry learns to appreciate art and other pleasures of the flesh.

decadent. in premise, in language, in characterisation, just absolutely decadent. this version of harry, bewildered and captivated by draco's out-there artistry is one of the funniest and most endearing i've encountered in fic, ever. his head, so full of determination and good intentions and terribly flawed and completely believable thinking, was such a brilliant place to set this fic. and draco— lord. you know that moment of transition, that click, when a piece of art goes from something untouchable and distant to a soulful thing you keep close because you recognise it as a cultural, emotional response? this fic felt like a literary project trying to capture that click, except it's a shift in perspective about a person. draco— the cool, untouchable, subversive artist who becomes irrevocably, warmly, achingly human.

probationary action (E, 63k)

As part of the terms of the probationary contract, DRACO LUCIUS MALFOY shall submit for inspection his WAND on the last day of every month, such inspection to be carried out by a duly registered and fully qualified AUROR in the employ of the MINISTRY OF MAGIC, and such inspection to include a PRIORI INCANTATEM spell to ensure that no PROHIBITED MAGICS as heretofore described have been practised by the aforementioned probationer.

*incoherent screaming*. a fic that starts with a premise so lighthearted and filthy that you think it's going to be a long, kinky fic about two rather hilariously perverted men getting it on, except it also gets into some of the most resonant discussions of post-war revenge tactics and human rights neglect i've ever read. the dynamic between harry and draco is simultaneously so light and so weighted, this is a fic that holds you down and keeps you there till you're done.

in conclusion: an entrancing author, a gift of a writer. i can't wait to see what else they have in store for this fandom.

[amandacanwrite]

The Violet Thread of Fate Part One:

The Reclusive Wizard and the Cheeky Upstart

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || Part Five || Part Six || Part Seven || Part Eight || Join Taglist

POV || Third Person, dual POV Gale Dekarios and Elinna Inklynn (Tav)

Pairing || Elinna Inklynn (Half-drow tav) and Gale Dekarios

Length || 5,500 Words

Scenario || In an alternative timeline for the events of BG3 Elinna Inklynn, an orphan from the Moonshae Islands seeks out the tutelage of accomplished wizard Gale Dekarios of Waterdeep. She has a knack with the Weave, but no money or connections to actually learn how to harness it. She has heard the wizard is a gentleman and a schollar, and hopes she can appeal to him to take her on as his apprentice in exchange for her help around his tower, with his research, and in running errands in Waterdeep. Unfortunately for her, Gale Dekarios does not take on apprentices.

Warnings || Age gap (Perhaps about 10ish years), depiction of depression and heart ache, description of very, very mild body horror.

A/n || I hope you all enjoy this very indulgent little fic I'm starting. I am already having entirely too much fun with it. Please keep in mind that while this fic will have a good amount of characters and scenarios from the canon events of BG3 I am planning on taking a lot of creative liberties and may leave out certain situations/characters for the sake of flow!

If you like this, you may also like my original works! I have a writing taglist that you can sign up for simply by commenting or reblogging and letting me know you'd like to be added. OR you can fill out this form if you'd like to be specific about which works you'd like to be tagged in.

Tag list || @softvampirewhump @horizonstride @thoughts-of-bear @mymybirdie @tiedyedghoulette @drabblesandimagines @madwomansapologist @hijirikaww @tryingtowritestuff24 @laserlope @auroraesmeraldarose @puckprimrose @dont-try-pesticide

A Reclusive Wizard

“Mr. Dekarios, if you would just consider it–” Tara suggested as she fluttered alongside her charge. 

“Tara, no,” Gale said. “We are not dropping the wards and we’re not taking visitors. The orb is too volatile.”

“But, Mr. Dekarios–I’ve told you this isolation of yours–” 

“Tara–enough,” Gale shouted, exasperated. “You are my friend. You’re not my mother. I’m a grown man, who has done quite well for himself, might I add, and I don’t need your–your incessant fussing.”

“Mr. Dekarios!” Tara tutted, her whiskers perking forward with her disapproval. “My incessant fussing is what helped you figure out how to stabilize the orb in the first place, may I remind you. And if you so tire of my incessant fussing, allow me to divest of its burden! I may not be your mother, but your mother is a friend to me and will happily put me up.”

“Tara,” Gale said. “Wait–I didn’t mean you should leave–”

“I know that. But I am also quite aware that my willingness to fetch magical items and act as your little familiar has proven to only enable your reclusive habits,” she retorted. “Perhaps you will not listen to me, but when you run out of biscuits for your tea, perhaps you’ll see the reason in getting a little bit of fresh air…and perhaps a bath…and for the sake of the gods a shave.”

Tara flitted her way up to one of the high windows in the tower, pausing on the sill before leaving.

“Tara, don’t go,” Gale said, his eyes taking on a sort of sorry, piteous quality. “Please, just stay here.”

“Mr. Dekarios, those big glittering eyes won’t work on me any longer,” Tara said. “I’ve known you too long to be bewitched by your pouting. If you so wish me to return, you can come fetch me at your childhood home. The walk will do you well.”

And with that, she soared right out of the window, leaving Gale of Waterdeep entirely and utterly alone. 

Gale scowled up at the window she’d escaped from before sighing and smearing a hand down his face. He cupped his hand over his mouth and heaved out a low grumble, lost in thought as he often was these days. 

Perhaps Tara was right…maybe it was time to leave the tower. To engage in the ease of camaraderie at The Yawning Portal, reach out to the colleagues that had tried to pay him a visit in the year since his relationship with Mystra had come to an end–since this tangle of Netherese magic made a home of his chest cavity. 

But it wasn’t just the volatile nature of the orb that worried him. It wasn’t as if he thought a raucous night with his friends would trigger an explosion to level the city he called home. Even with the constant peril of the orb in his chest being destabilized by a too-strong emotion, there was a deeper fear inspiring the reluctance.

Gale Dekarios was used to being an outlier. Unfortunately, it was the otherside of the coin of being a particularly gifted wizard. As a child, it had been a source of ostracization. As an adolescent it made him the subject of many an ill-begotten rivalry. As a young man he had begun to learn how to minimize the isolation by compensating for the inevitable inferiority complex he inspired in others by learning to be charming and funny–to couch his corrections in complimentary language so that he could have some measure of friendship.

It wasn’t often that he could find people that could keep up with him or converse with him on his level–at least, not where the subject of magic came into play. But he’d learned to accept that and enjoy the company of other wizards–even non-wizards–in different ways. 

A game of lanceboard, the critical analysis of a book, a spirited debate on the merits of the shadow arts when applied to the correct endeavors. Now, as a man in his late 30’s with questionable knees, he felt nicely secure in his ability to play nice with others. 

But this new sense of separation–this insurmountable mountain between himself and the other–had been so very devastating to the life he had carefully cultivated. 

How could he listen to other people lament about their sordid love affairs, the politics at the academy–anything– with any measure of understanding or empathy? How could he confide in the people who he used to call his friends? 

He was alone in the tower, but he wasn’t certain he could face the profound isolation of trying to connect with someone about his condition, only to find them staring back at him in utter befuddlement. Or worse, with soulless platitudes and what he could only describe as foolish optimism.

Who could possibly make him feel better when there was no way he could ever feel better? How could he listen to the woes of friends and earnestly care about them when he had been forsaken by the goddess of the only thing he held sacred in his life?

He couldn’t. That was a the truth of it. And that was why he didn’t want visitors. He didn’t want to subject his friends to the poor quality of his care; didn’t want to expose them to this unique brand of selfishness and bitterness. 

He’d had enough of destroying things. 

But he also knew he needed Tara–not just because of the artifacts, but because she was his oldest and longest standing friendship. And because the tower, in her absence, had already become unbearably quiet.

And he supposed it had been a while since he last saw his mother…

He sighed and turned away from his mess of a study, climbing up the two flights of stairs to his bedchambers. Once there, he conjured himself a bath as he undressed, leaving his house robes in a pile on the floor before stepping into the steaming water. 

It smelled of bay laurel and lavender–an old combination that Mystra loved to use when they’d shared baths together. His mind drifted to the thought of his goddess cradled against his body, how small she felt even with her considerable power, the feeling of her silky hair catching on his skin as he kissed the hollow of her neck and…

“Don’t take that path in your mind, Gale. She’s the last person you should be thinking about right now,” he told himself as he gave his cheek a couple firm, bracing pats with his hand. He let his head drop back in the water and sighed. 

The water filled his ears, quieting the ambient sounds in the room around him and creating an echochamber of his head. He heard the airy sound of his breaths coming and going in and out of his lungs; heard the gentle trickling sounds of his fingers creating tiny currents under the water; heard the sound of his heart still beating in his over-crowded chest. 

He was still alive. 

There could be hope for him yet. 

Unlikely, sure, but there could be. 

After washing up with some simple soap, he got out of the bath and toweled off. 

He walked over to the small wardrobe where he kept his things and slapped a couple lazy splashes of a fragranced suspension he’d made onto his neck, favoring his pulse points as he used to when he’d go out for a night at The Yawning Portal. He trimmed his beard as a small concession to Tara (he would not be shaving it completely, thank you very much,) and got dressed. 

He decided he would wear one of his nicer sets of robes. It’d been a while since he’d properly dressed himself in something other than simple tunics and roughspun practice robes. He started with some leather trousers and his under shirt, layering the criss-crossed front with car and fastening it with the ties at his waist to create a slender, tapered silhouette. Then he slipped the robe on, and paused as he caught a glance of himself in the mirror. 

He’d not really been thinking when he selected the robe, but this was one of Mystra’s favorites on him. Various shades of violet with a wine-colored sash. 

Violet, of course, was the color of the weave. Mystra’s color. 

Would she want him to eliminate the color from his wardrobe altogether? Now that she’d left him to his devices? Surely a goddess couldn’t bar him from wearing a color. Hopefully not, considering more than half of his wardrobe was some shade of lilac, lavender or morning glory.

Whatever the case, he fastened the buckles and straightened the sash the wine colored sash, trying once again to put Mystra out of his mind. He did a flick of his hands to lace up the sleeves and then slid on some leather bracers for good measure. 

It wasn’t as if he had any intention of doing any fighting or shooting any arrows, but he liked how they looked. And it had been so long since he’d looked in the mirror and thought to himself my, look at that handsome devil.

Finally he looked at the mop of his hair. It’d also been too long since he’d gotten a cut…now his messy curls fell past his shoulders when he usually preferred to keep it short enough to comb back with a bit of emollient or pomade. He was certain his mother would gripe about it and then he would have to deal with incessant fussing two fold between his mother and Tara. Still, it was dark outside–long past the time any salons would be open, so he gathered half of it up, bundling it as neatly as he could manage around his two forefingers and secured it with a two-pronged hairpin. 

He looked at the earring on his wardrobe and hedged for a moment. 

He’d been given the earring as a gift from Mystra when he’d first encountered her as a boy. He’d only stopped wearing it in the last year. Something had felt off about keeping it on–like a widower still wearing his wedding band. But it also felt wrong to leave his tower without it. It felt like a part of his identity. 

“You’re ridiculous,” he said to himself in the mirror before turning from it and striding out of his bedroom. 

…He returned not two seconds later and slipped the earring into his left ear. Damn it all. He couldn’t help what he was. A sentimental, heartbroken fool.

On his way out the door, he grabbed a hooded cloak and draped it over his shoulders. He lifted the hood, obscuring his face in shadow, hoping it would be enough to keep him from having to interact with anyone who wasn’t Tara of his mother. He considered, for a moment, casting an invisibility charm on himself…alas the concentration such a thing would require left him feeling exhausted at the thought of it. The cloak had worked for rogues and criminals for centuries. Suely it could work for him as well. 

Finally, he left the safety and control his tower afforded him and walked out into the cold, Waterdhavian night. 

A Cheeky Upstart

“Okay Elinna. Just…ring the doorbell. You’ve traveled all the way here. So just ring it,” a young woman told herself as she stood outside the wrought iron gates. “You sailed all the way from the Moonshae Islands, left every book behind, dealt with some of the worst sea sickness in all of the realms just to be here.”

Despite telling herself this, she had to shake out some of the numbness in her fingers from clenching her fists too tight. Or maybe it was just the nip in the air from the coastal evening. She couldn’t truly be sure. 

As she stood there, her green eyes caught a streak of movement in the sky–some winged creature departing from a high window of the tower. She couldn’t quite make out what it was. Maybe a gargoyle? Or a mephit? An imp?

Something churned in her gut at the thought of Gale of Waterdeep cavorting with the infernal. Perhaps that was why no one had seen him in such a long time–maybe he’d made a pact with a devil and lost some of his humanity in the exchange. Maybe she ought to just turn on her shabby heels and book passage back home. 

“You can’t do that, Elinna,” she told herself. “You already spent everything you have just to get here. You’re all in, now.”

But that was precisely why she couldn’t bring herself to tug on the chain to ring the doorbell. Who was she to show up at the door of one of the best wizards–a proper prodigy of composing strings of the weave; the apprentice of the famous Elminster, no less?

Well she knew the answer to that. 

She was desperate. That’s what she was. 

She’d been left at the Scribe’s Nest by her mother with nothing but a note and an old locket she couldn’t get open; drow craftsmanship. The note detailed her lineage as a half-drow, but begged the clerics of the temple to take her in and raise her. According to the note left in her swaddle, Elinna would be shunned and excluded by because of her impure blood. 

A shame for both her mother and Elinna herself that the Scribe’s Nest had simply moved into an old Temple of Ilmater. The inhabitants inside were nothing but glorified librarians. They may have had access to all of the books in the world, but not a single one of her guardians actually knew how to use the information inside. 

No. Instead, they tried to raise her to love cataloging the written word, but deny herself the joy of actually using anything she learned from the old dusty tomes in the temple. Even when she’d shown a natural knack for small magics, she had been discouraged from using them, leaving her with no choice but to practice in the wee hours of the night. 

She knew she hadn’t much to use as a benchmark for her growth as a burgeoning young wizard, but she thought for all of the effort she’d put in she made a half-decent self-taught magician. All she needed was some proper tutelage to become something truly magnificent. Something worthy of the tales of great wizards that she’d read. 

Which brought her here–to the first and only plan she had to seek out that higher learning. And now her future hung in the balance of whether or not her knock at the door–or rather the ring of the doorbell–would be answered. 

Her heart pounded in her chest, at her temples. He leather fingerless gloves squeaked as she flexed and clenched her fists. 

“Gah!” she cried, turning away from the gate, pacing across the narrow cobbled street, then pacing right back. She gasped in a few preparatory breaths and hopped from one soft-soled foot to the other. “Just do it, just DO it, Elinna. Just–”

The door of the tower opened, it’s underutilized hinges creaking as the man opening the door grunted. 

“Damnable–old door–why did I make you out of iron,” grumbled the voice. 

Elinna went entirely still, eyes going wide. 

Perhaps it was habit from how many times she’d had to sneak tomes away from the restricted areas of the Scribe’s Nest, but she ducked behind the stone columns holding up the wrought iron gate and watched as the cloaked figure made his way to the gate and slipped outside of it with a wave of his hand. 

She remained hidden as he looked down the road in her direction, his eyes looking too distantly to catch her small frame tucked away in the dark. 

She’d seen sketches of the Gale Dekarios before, but she couldn’t help but feel they did him no justice. The etchings seemed to have emphasized the wizened qualities of his features; the lines around his eyes, the creases around his lips. They made him look sagely and–well–old. 

But the real man, the one now standing in the flesh just a few feet from her was something different entirely. 

He showed signs of age, of course. He was a middle-aged man, after all. But his lips were fuller, his beard a little more tidy, and his eyes…

His eyes were what made him look the most youthful. There was a sort of shimmer to them that she couldn’t quite describe, a sort of weight to his brow that made him look as if he was always curious, always observing.

She watched as he pulled his cloak a little tighter around him and turned the opposite direction, walking down the narrow street. 

Wait, she thought. What am I doing?!

She hesitated for only one more moment before quickly hurrying after him. She searched her mind for all of the speeches she’d practiced for this introduction, but she was left wanting. She should have written it down so that she wouldn’t forget–or would it have been even more strange for read her introduction off the pages of a notebook? 

It was all strange, of course; a girl crossing the ocean to show up on the doorstep of a stranger several years her senior. Asking for an apprenticeship when she hadn’t so much as sent him a letter of introduction or even had anything to offer in exchange except for chores, errands and meal preparations. Seeking tutelage from one of the most accomplished young wizards when she was still struggling with even the most basic of incantations…

But what else could she do? 

The life of a Scribe Nest Archiver was not a luxurious one. She’d had to sneak out of the old Nest to sing songs at the local tavern to scrape what little money she could together to book passage to even get here. 

Blackstaff wasn’t exactly inexpensive–and even if it was, she couldn’t hope to get in. Not with how poorly she handled the weave. 

But Gale–she had read transcripts of his lectures, heard tales of how magnanimous and warm he could be. She even once met one of his friends at the tavern who was visiting the islands for this or that purpose–she couldn’t remember. She only remembered the tales of his kindness and generosity. Of his gentleman’s nature. 

He seemed like her only real chance at ever mastering this art that sang to her like a harpy at roost in the bay.

God’s he was walking fast though. Perhaps it was just because she was so short in comparison to him, but she was almost having to run to catch up to him. 

“E-excuse me,” she finally said when she was within earshot.

She saw the briefest glance back at her, the quickest flash of a startled expression, before he focused forward and quickened his pace.  

“No, thank you,” Dekarios replied. “I’ve already a subscription to the Waterdhavian times.”

“Uhm, no–that’s not–” she stammered. “Wait, could you please stop walking so fast!”

“I’m in a dreadful hurry, good night to you,” he said dismissively, walking even faster as he pulled his cloak further to guard his face. 

“Mr. Dekarios! I’ve come here to talk to you!” She shouted, a little crack of desperation coming out with it. “Mr. Dekarios I–”

He whirled on her, suddenly encroaching into her space. He was so quick that she almost stumbled backward and fell. Before she could, though, he seized her arm with one strong hand, stablizing her quickly before clasping his other hand over her mouth.

She stared up at him with wide eyes, bright irises flicking around his face as if she were prey caught in his snare.

“Shhhh,” he hissed before looking around, as if to see if anyone heard her. “Mystra’s Elbow, you’d think my reputation as a newly initiated recluse would have gotten around by now.”

Elinna swallowed dryly, critically aware of the feeling of his calloused fingertips on the soft swells of her freckled cheeks. She blinked up at him, unsure what to do. His hand felt warm through the roughspun, puffed sleeves of her Scribe’s Nest garments.  Her feet were sort of turned in awkwardly after he’s caught her mid fall. 

She wondered if it would have looked like she was being accosted by a thief to a wandering bystander. She supposed it didn’t matter because no one else was here. She knew she should have been afraid. That she was a young woman alone with an older man; that he’d rendered her silent and could easily do much worse. But she also knew that was likely the experiences at the tavern thinking for her. 

Gale was supposed to be a gentleman. That’s what she’d always heard. And…

And his hands smelled like…like tea and old parchment and sage. There was a somewhat sharp quality to the fragrance–perhaps a suspension alchemized in alcohol of some sort. He must have made it himself. 

“Now. This behavior of mine, admittedly, is abhorrent for a gentleman with a young lady. I will have to ask you to forgive my bad manners and to give me the grace of your understanding because I simply did not want to be greeted by anyone aside from my mother and my cat. Now. I am going to take my hand away from your mouth; apologies again for the rough handling. But I’m going to then need you to let me walk away. And perhaps most importantly, I need you to leave me alone,” Gale said quietly. “Do we have an accord?”

Elinna’s pale ginger brow furrowed and he tutted quietly. 

“No, no. No crinkles of the brow, no narrowing of the eyes, miss,” he scolded. “It is by mere coincidence you’ve even caught me out of my tower. By all accounts this is an anomaly of the highest order and therefore…uhm…does not count. You should just forget this ever happened. In fact, I could help you do so if you like!”

Doesn’t count? What kind of logic–that was school-boy logic! And what did he mean help her forget?! She jerked her arm away from him and, perhaps in a moment of panic he tightened his grip.

“Alright, alright! I’m going to let you go–just– remember our deal, please,” he said, releasing her arm.

He winced slightly as he hesitated to remove his other hand from her mouth. She thought he had the same expression one might have if they were about to remove a cork from a vial of smelling salts.

He released his other hand, drawing it away from her mouth. 

“Mr. Dekarios, I’ve come to ask you to take me on as an apprentice,” Elinna blurted out. “I know you have never met me, and that you have no notion of my ability or skill. And that showing up outside of a strangers house and asking them for a place to live–”

“I’m sorry, a place to live?” He interjected with an incredulous tone

“--and a comprehensive education in the arcane arts–” she continued.

“I assure you I do not have the time, and it certainly wouldn’t be proper for an older man to bring a young woman into his home to–” he interjected again. 

“ But I have nowhere else to turn and…And I’m afraid I can’t take no for an answer.”

His brows shot up as she finally stopped speaking. She didn’t know what to make of that expression, nor the silence that followed. Elinna could feel her face beginning to warm and she knew from  that her face was already starting to color with her own nerves. It felt the same way it did when a tavern patron made a bawdy joke at her expense–or about her body. 

The silence was the most unbearable part, though. So she started to fill it, her face getting warmer by the moment.

“You’re silent,” she said. “Uh–right. Names. I’m Elinna Inklyn. I hail from the Moonshae Islands. I grew up under the care of the Scribe’s Nest Archivists and–”

“Elinna. Elinna,” he said, his tone almost pitying. “I’m going to stop you right there.”

She felt her heart sink as he pinched the bridge of his nose and tilted his head back, looking toward the sky. “Look, Miss Inklyn. I’m sorry that you came all this way, but. I am afraid you must take no as an answer. I cannot take on an apprentice, even if I wanted to.” He winced and almost half shrugged. “And frankly, I really do not want to. Even if I could do it, I wouldn’t want to do it.”

“But–if you’d let me explain–” she protested. 

“No–no buts. Again, I am dreadfully sorry for the trouble you went through to get here. But…considering that you sought me out and addressed me by name, you must know who I am.” he said. 

“Yes,” she answered. 

“So, then you know that I am particularly gifted with manipulating the weave,” he said. “That’s why you’ve sought me out.”

“Yes,” she said yet again. “Well part of the reason but also because–”

“So, then I’m sure you could understand why I find the inadequacies of unskilled wizards irksome, correct? That if I were to take on an apprentice, it would be someone with a certain level of innate talent?”

Her brow furrowed again and she inhaled to speak, but before another word could fall out of her mouth a huge boom of sound tore out from the sky above them. She clapped her gloved hands over her ears and yelped.

“What was that?” she shouted. 

The two looked up at the source of the sound only to see the sky split open like it’d been torn by a dull blade. Out of the opening flew a giant aircraft with writhing tentacles slicing through the air as if it were a squid traversing deep sea waters. The two wizards–one novice and one adept–balked at the appearance of the spelljammer, the size of it practically the size of Gale’s tower if you laid it on its side.

“A nautiloid?” They both said at the same time. 

They met eyes briefly before Gale gritted his teeth and grasped onto her arm, almost flinging her away from him

“Get out of here, Elinna. And whatever you do don’t let the tentacles touch you,” he shouted. 

She stumbled, almost falling on her face, looking back at him. 

“What about you?!” she cried. 

“I’m a wizard,” he said before turning and casting a bolts of ice at two of the tentacles that swatted out toward them. 

“It’s a spelljammer!”

“I’m a very, very good wizard!” he said. 

Elinna’s sense of self preservation won out over her worry for the man she’d come here to meet. If he thought he could take on a nautiloid, who was she to deny that? She turned and sprinted down the narrow street before dodging down an alleyway in hopes of getting cover from the massive tentacles that now swept down toward the ground like great, giant whips. 

She chanced a single look back to see Gale running just behind her, and the spelljammer that was traveling far too quickly and far too low to the ground for comfort. He followed her down the alleyway, calling ahead. “Not that way! To the east–”

“I don’t know which way east is!” she shouted back. 

“Are you kiddi–Eugh–LEFT,” he said. “LEFT, LEFT! Go LEFT!”

“Alright, I heard you!” she said. “No need to shout!”

“I will shout if I want to, now–Elinna, look out!”

She looked ahead just in time to see a brick wall and slipped on her worn soles as she tried to come to a screeching halt. 

She slammed into the wall, but thankfully not with enough force to knock her out.  She managed to clumsily tumble toward the left, dropping onto her fingertips just a moment before lurching back upright. Gale caught up to her and cast some spell–gust, she assumed– because a strong wind caught in the fabric of her clothes like a breeze in the sails of a galeon and made her feel like she was running on air. 

He fought off another tentacle and she screamed as one almost tagged her, but smashed an old fish barrel to bits instead.

“Keep going. We’ll lose it on the main road,” Gale yelled.  

They spilled out onto a wider street and she immediately regretted listening to the Waterdhavian native. It’d seemed a sound plan at first. But only if the goal of the ship was to find them specifically. When they made it to the street, Elinna realized that was not the drive of the nautiloid at all. 

The main road was chaos. There were carts toppled over and people lying trampled on the ground. People ran and screamed, some of them were swatted by the terrifying power of the tentacles only to vanish into dust before they could make impact with the wall of a building or the floor below them.

Elinna froze in terror, realizing finally that her plight had gone from one of trying to secure a teacher of her own to one of simply trying to survive her first night on the mainland. It suddenly dawned on her that she might actually die here. She might die within moments. 

She couldn’t think. Couldn’t move.

It was a mistake to stop, but she realized it too late. A horse cried out desperately and tore away from the frightening vessel. It tore straight toward her, its eyes wild, his nose gusting tufts of steam into the air like a machine. It pulled a market cart along with it, full of heavy barrels of meat and wine. She braced herself, squeezing her eyes shut and thinking about the magic she’d read about. Misty step–misty step, what was the incantation for misty step?

“I-Inveniam Viam!!” she shouted, the words sailing on waves of the weave and almost…echoing. There was the sweet taste of something on her tongue–the after effect of using the weave if her reading was any indication. She’d only tasted that once or twice before, but chasing that sweet, comforting experience was what brought her here. It’s what made her so desperately want to learn how to wield this magic.

When she opened her eyes, the horse was gone.

Unfortunately for her, so was the ground beneath her feet. 

She’d somehow teleported into midair and, as if the weave was just as shocked as she was, she’d wound up suspended there for just the briefest moment, cradled by the strands of the weave she’d managed to manipulate. Seconds felt like minutes as he copper hair floate away from her face as she experienced true weightlessness for just moments. Then she felt the sickening churn in her stomach as she started to fall. 

The floor just far enough to be lethal but not far enough to give her adequate time to figure out another spell. Her mind went blank with terror. In a moment of desperation, she found Gale in the crowd, a stationary man in a sea of fleeing people. 

He looked at her in abject horror as she dropped like a dagger out of the sky. He looked utterly, woefully helpless.

She screamed, wrapping her arms around her as if she could brace her own fall, as if holding herself would hold her together.

Then, just as she was about to splat on the cobblestones into a puddle of bone and blood, a searing heat bloomed from the center of her back. She screamed again as she felt herself dissolve from the inside out, her innards liquifying into a primordial soup. 

Her body went miserably hot, and then impossibly cold. No. Not cold–she realized–absent. She was vanishing from the center of her body. She watched in uncomprehending horror as her middle vanished, watched as her body evaporated like steam off a teacup. 

Her guttural scream sounded from her and died in the air. 

The last thing she saw before her vision went black was Gale still staring at her as he too succumbed to the nautiloid’s attack.

[authoralexharvey]

Or, A Sharper, More Lasting Call for Betas

Do you like dark academia? How about fantasy? How about stories set on a magic college campus? How about tragic tales? Monsters? Mind-melding drugs?

All of this and more is found within my debut novel, which is currently in need of beta readers!

After their girlfriend’s best friend is wounded in a monster attack, Simone Allard stumbles across a plot much deeper than they anticipated. As they work to find a cure to their own forming illness and find out the truth, one question remains: how was Nadia involved in this? Nadia DuPont doesn’t know how much time she has or even what is ailing her, but it all gets more complex after meeting Simone on a field trip. As they both work to find a cure to her ailment, all Nadia is certain of is she's on the path to ruin.

Basics

Dual-POV third person present tense

Roughly 70,000 words, ~350 pages

For fans of Ninth House, A Deadly Education, and Strixhaven

Content warnings include: Body horror, Death, Drug use, Sexual content (including mild kink), Suicidal ideation, and Terminal illness

Representation includes: nonbinary main character, black main character, main characters of color, gay main character, sapphic main character, mentions of polyamory, a main character with chronic illness/terminal illness, neurodivergent main character, side characters of color, plus-sized main character, disabled side character, queernormative society

Searching for feedback on... anything, really, but especially on characterization, cohesion of the timeline, and worldbuilding. But again, anything (save line edits, that'll come next) is fair game.

Betas will be accepted and messaged by February 1st

Hard beta deadline of April 1st, so there's a 2 month reading period.

Beta reading will be conducted via Google Docs, so a valid Google account is required.

Links

Beta sign up form

Add ASMLP on Goodreads!

ASMLP Tag List (Ask to be added!): @magic-is-something-we-create, @wildswrites, @chishiio, @broodparasitism, @writeblrsupport, @original-writing, @artcoffeecats, @comicgoblinart, @asterhaze, @linaket, @arigalefantasynovels, @ryns-ramblings, @stesierra

[buttered-milky]

So how does Messmer's story interact with a theme of autonomy?

OMG FUCKING FLAPPING MY HANDS SO HARD AT THIS ASK GLAD YOU FUCKING ASKED ANON 💞✨💞✨💞✨

Okay, sorry it took me one grillion years to get this posted, but it is basically an essay and I also have Many Life Events that prevent me from getting a chance to sit down and write. I have many thoughts. I will put them under a read more.

When I say Messmer’s story is about autonomy, I mean this specifically in relation to disability.

To me, the base serpent functions as an allegory for some sort of disability. We know the base serpent feeds on Messmer’s flame—this is his curse, to have this eldritch thing gnawing at his soul.

Now how is the base serpent treated by those around Messmer? And how does it affect his life? (Answer: negatively)

Let’s start with how the serpent itself functions as an independent agent. For a moment please forget what I said about it being a disability metaphor—it still is but that’s a mystery mouskatool for later. Right now we’re gonna talk about it as a living entity of its own.

As I pointed out, the serpent feeds on Messmer’s flame, and this harm and how intertwined it has become with Messmer’s existence limits Messmer. It has affected his view of himself to the point it limits his choices in life. How to present himself—with or without flame? He associates his flame with the serpent. How to fight—with or without the serpent’s power? It doesn’t seem to hurt him to use the serpent, but it does make others uncomfortable.

The harm itself of the serpent using Messmer as a food source is also a very basic imposition on Messmer’s autonomy. Of course he doesn’t want an eldritch snake gnawing at him like a chew toy, but the serpent is not going to leave him alone. It does not give him his own space and freedom.

Messmer tries to remove his flame not because the flame itself is a curse, but because it attracts something which is. That’s deeply fucking sad. He’s trying to remove parts of himself—to change himself fundamentally—just to get basic freedom and autonomy.

Now let’s also look at how others see the base serpent. For example, Marika.

Listen. She tried her best with him but I do wonder when the grace seal happened. It seems (to me at least, though we have no confirmed timeline) to have been done early in his life given the language used to describe the serpent. This was urgent. Marika was very worried about this wicked serpent and what it was doing to her son! This is important, by the way—that she does these things out of love.

Marika is also, however, deeply concerned with her own ideals. For example, light, the source of her own grace and of Messmer’s power. Messmer seems to scorn those “devoid of light” as he puts it. Darkness in itself is a curse under the Golden Order. Perhaps she wants to save the flame within Messmer for this reason, although there is definitely the motivation of that is her son.

The dual motivations, to both protect someone and to enforce our ideals of what is “best” is what hurts so many disabled folks. Sometimes “normal” is not attainable—and it doesn’t have to be! What disabled people find normal or doable or comfortable is fine, and they should have the agency to say so. That’s where I see autonomy really coming into Messmer’s story as an important motif.

Messmer is unfortunately born into a society that, at least to Marika, seems prejudiced against the strange. He is born into a world that would hate him for having the base serpent (though that is no fault of his own). And instead of trying to change this faulty thinking in others, Marika changes her son.

Her healing is…a mixed bag. The blessings Marika makes for her son seem alright. That’s non-invasive medicine, and it’s not like she’s forcing these down Messmer’s throat. But the grace seal is more iffy. Like I said, I’m not sure how I feel about the grace seal and whether that’s really accommodation. It does send a certain message that, uh, a core part of Messmer deserves to be locked away for eternity, which is not healthy for anyone to hear.

But I can understand why Marika did it, too. She thinks she is healing/accommodating her son and making life livable. And maybe she is! The base serpent we see in the second phase of the fight looks painful. But that is also a manifestation of something that has been repressed for centuries and is boiling over.

I wanna know what the base serpent was like when he was born! Was it truly “wicked?” Did it want to hurt others, or just go after Messmer’s flame? Both? Was the base serpent just something Marika was uncomfortable with, because it took light from her son? How necessary is that light? I wanna know how necessary the grace seal was!

We know Marika had Messmer after her apotheosis—he is a demigod, after all. So at this point she is already being affected by the Greater Will and ideals that will become the Golden Order. I do think Messmer of all her children probably had the least of this Order forced upon him, but that isn’t to say he had none. He was in the Lands Between at some point, based on the fire giants and Impaler’s Catacombs. He did have to conform to some degree to be accepted.

He definitely had to conform to be accepted in Leyndell. People in the Shadow Lands may be accepting—we see Hornsent and no one gives a damn—but the Misbegotten and Omen in the Lands Between (who look a lot like hornsent, mind you)? Treated like absolute shit, because of the Order. There is no way Messmer was escaping such treatment, no matter if he was a demigod.

The grace seal could be accommodation, but it is also a manifestation of Marika’s and the Order’s ideals and the pressure to conform—to give up autonomy for safety (which is really no choice at all).

Above all, what Marika and/or Messmer do to “heal” him does nothing to fix societal prejudice. Nothing here fights for autonomy or freedom. Not the blessings, not the seal—I mean it’s a fucking seal, a lock.

And it only hides the base serpent, instead of actually fighting it, which in the end leads to destruction.

It is not necessarily a kindness to try to treat or cure a disability if you are not also working to undo the prejudice against said disability and provide accommodations. It is not necessarily a kindness to try to cure a disability which doesn’t need curing. And it is no kindness to demand disability be swept under the rug because it is not palatable enough to you.

This is where we see loss of autonomy.

Messmer is such a walking tragedy. He’s just doomed from the start. Marika is trying, but she’s not fixing the world, just continuing its cycles of violence. And even if she didn’t give him the seal, the base serpent would’ve been spurned.

As a last aside/point, I wanna discuss how Messmer deals with his own situation as a disabled person (and more generally a minority class) because it reflects something in the real world.

Messmer accepts the verdict that part of himself should be hidden, and that being what he is is bad, and he goes on to further this notion. He destroys the people his mother wants him to destroy. He commits genocide for many reasons, but one of them is because it guarantees a scrap of power under the Order. He preserves the status quo instead of fighting against it, and he tries to be “one of the good ones” to save himself as much as he can within a system that hates him.

He is someone who is not good enough for the order, and he is lightless, but at least he is denying himself to try to be like the oppressors.

Which gets you nowhere by the way. Being one of the good ones is never enough, and it will destroy you in the end.

[levemetal]

I have a million and one svsss AU ideas that idk if I'll ever write cause I have 0 confidence in my untested writing skills. Any of these appeal to you?? Go ahead, use 'em. Know any fanfics like that? Please please PLEASE leave them in the comments. Ideas to add? Anything? Please go ahead I have no friends that are as deep in the svsss brainrot as me to subject this to ˚‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥᷄⌓˂̣̣̥᷅ )‧º·˚

Continued under the cut due to excessive rambling

These will be Ghost King/Calamity!SJ cause he has been living rentfree in my brain ever since one braincell at one AM shouted about it so you have been warned.

- Dual Ghost Kings YQY and SJ, Post canon of PIDW. That's it that's the idea. Their extras hurt my cold dead heart way too much and as much as bbygirl SJ is a piece of shit, Yue Qingyuan deserves happiness, and for that he needs his Xiao-Jiu. Basically YQY does not stay dead when Bingge turns him into a pincushion à la White No Face to Xie Lian except with arrows. What happens from here? Idk didn't get that far but I imagine he steals back his (probably dead) Xiao-Jiu, maybe does some other batshit insane shit like we all know that deep down he's capable of, and the duo fucking COMMUNICATES for once in their life and they live happily ever after. Bonus points for hilarious deaths for Bingge.

- If you're a filthy multishipper like me, want a BingJiu version of the above QiJiu? Easy, SJ decides to haunt Bingge's ass for eternity and vice versa when Bingge kicks the bucket and so they spent the rest of eternity trying to make each other miserable in increasingly ridiculous and creative ways. Maybe along the centuries they find a common enemy or sort their shit out and proceed to make their awful existence everyone else's problem. A match made in hell, truly <3

Are you seeing a theme yet. I like a general comedic air to svsss AUs, it just belongs to the svsss experience ya know? Anyway carrying on-

Shen twins, and SQH twins cause why not. If you want Binghe twins too, actually probably funnier with Binghe twins, where one is our beloved maiden Bingmei and the other OG!PIDW Bingge but forced back in time with memories of the PIDW timeline. Transmigrator SQH aka Airplane gets the peak lord + Mobei-Jun plotline while OG!SQH is just chilling as an An Ding Peak Hallmaster or something. Meanwhile, the Shen twins have a funny game of imposter going on. As far as everyone is concerned, there is only one Shen Qingqiu, Shen Yuan. Shen Yuan transmigrated in earlier into the novel, but ended up going to CQM with Yue Qi while SJ got stuck in the Qiu household as in canon. From here the details can change but the main idea is that

A) Shen Yuan knows how to do his peak lord job actually

B) SJ is a calamity ghost, having died either in his disciple years or alternatively never made it out of the Qiu household alive

C) Both SY and SJ have been playing switcheroo when SY needs to head out and do stuff or just wants SJ to do his paperwork for him.

I still need a good reason for the switching and duping, but wouldn't it be funny if the disciples just had to deal with their peak lord behaving WILDLY different at times. Most of the time it's good ol' Shen Yuan smiling at disciples, way too enthusiastic for monsters and plants and keeps forgetting his fans everywhere. Then one random week in the month after he has a resting bitch face, scowls, snarls and bitches at anyone and has 0 patience for teenage attempts at music.

Most shrug it off as just terrible migraine weeks, but some disciples are suspicious, most of all Bingge who is CONVINCED something is WrongTM. Like, he KNOWS SQQ and this SQQ is just so different, something must be different. He doesn't know how right he is yet everyone just thinks he's actually insane.

I know this is probably increasingly insane and dumb, but fast forward to the Abyss opening. SJ was probably there to keep an eye on his clumsy twin, but SY ends up asking the ghost to look over the Luos, as the system still demands that they go to the abyss. So SJ after much grumbling agrees (after all he probably just was unmasked as ghost calamity, and the twins as demons, with a huge amount of cultivators moving their way. It's really the smaller hassle to jump into the Abyss and deal with the horrors there. Besides, the scholar in SJ would be curious about the abyss (and SY too let's be honest) ), kicks both in and goes "Alright we're taking an impromptu field trip" and jumps in after leaving SY to deal with the political mess that comes after.

Anyway, the last AU can be changed in various ways, like make it a PIDW time travel fix it with only the OGs around, or just Shen twins, etc. Feel free to shout at me how dumb this all is.

[mostthingskenobi]

THE JEDI AND HIS DUCHESS

SUMMARY: Satine Kryze is a pacifist because of the Mandalorian civil war. But the idea first takes root in her mind after watching something terrible happen to Obi-Wan Kenobi.

The story of how Obi-Wan and Satine fell in love when they were young, and how their feelings reemerged when they reconnected during the Clone Wars.

Told in dual timelines. Graphic Violence. Takes place pre Phantom Menace/post Clone Wars episode Duchess of Mandalore.

TEASER:

“Calm yourself, young one.” Qui-Gon’s large hands stroked her cheekbones. “Where is Obi-Wan?” She stared at him with wild eyes, tears still running down her face. “They took him.” Qui-Gon’s look changed instantly, his features fell as fear gripped his heart. “Where?” “Down the mountain, by the river.” “Who was it?” “Five bounty hunters. Obi-Wan could sense them coming. He told me to run.” Her chin began to tremble. “But I heard him scream so I went back.”

SPECIAL NOTE 09/01/23: A friend recently told me that Star Wars now says Obi-Wan and Satine were 15 years old when they met. I was shocked to hear this, so I researched it myself. In a recent article on StarWars.com, they do, in fact, claim this. When I started writing this fic many years ago I did extensive research into Obi-Wan's timeline. I wanted to make sure I was getting everything right. By the time he reconnected with Satine during the Clone Wars he was 35. It had been approximately 15 years since they had seen each other. That puts him around 20 years old. I don't know why Star Wars decided to change this particular detail, but I want it known that I would never write a story like this about children. I always intended Obi-Wan and Satine to be 20-ish years old (aka consenting adults) in this fic. So, no matter what canon says, please know Obi-Wan and Satine are 20 years old in the flashbacks of this story.

READ IT ON AO3 - Kudos and Comments Welcome :-)

READ CHAPTER 1

READ CHAPTER 2

READ CHAPTER 3

READ CHAPTER 4

READ CHAPTER 5

READ CHAPTER 6

READ CHAPTER 7

READ CHAPTER 8

READ CHAPTER 9

READ CHAPTER 10

READ CHAPTER 11

READ CHAPTER 12

READ CHAPTER 13

READ CHAPTER 14

READ CHAPTER 15

READ CHAPTER 16

READ CHAPTER 17

READ CHAPTER 18

READ CHAPTER 19

READ CHAPTER 20

READ CHAPTER 21

READ CHAPTER 22

READ CHAPTER 23

READ CHAPTER 24

READ CHAPTER 25

READ CHAPTER 26

READ CHAPTER 27

READ CHAPTER 28

[whencyclopedia]

The History of the Ancient World: From the Earliest Accounts to the Fall of Rome

This comprehensive and engaging narrative covers many ancient civilizations, including Mesopotamia, Egypt, the Indus Valley, early China, Greece, and Rome. Bauer's accessible writing and use of primary sources make complex historical events understandable and interesting. Ideal for history enthusiasts and general readers, this book offers a balanced and detailed overview of ancient history.

The History of the Ancient World: From the Earliest Accounts to the Fall of Rome by Susan Wise Bauer is a sweeping and well-researched work that endeavours to present a coherent narrative of ancient history from its earliest beginnings to the fall of the Roman Empire. Bauer, a historian and seasoned author, undertakes the formidable task of chronicling the development of human civilisations across the globe, weaving together historical events, cultural evolutions, and significant personalities.

The book is organised into 70 chapters, each serving as a vignette illuminating specific eras, events, and figures in ancient history. Bauer's narrative is both chronological and thematic, a dual approach that allows readers to follow the progression of historical events while also understanding each period's broader cultural and societal developments.

Bauer begins her journey in Mesopotamia, exploring the rise and fall of ancient societies such as Sumer, Akkad, Babylon, and Assyria. She delves deeply into the development of writing with cuneiform, the establishment of legal codes exemplified by Hammurabi's Code, and the growth of urbanization and statecraft under rulers like Sargon of Akkad. Her detailed descriptions provide a vivid picture of how these early societies laid the groundwork for future civilisations.

The narrative then shifts to ancient Egypt, where Bauer traces the history from the early dynastic periods through the heights of the Old, Middle, and New Kingdoms. Her portrayal of Egyptian pharaohs such as Ramses II and Cleopatra pays particular attention to the complexities of their reigns. Bauer's exploration of Egyptian religion, monumental architecture like the pyramids and the temples at Karnak, and the daily life of its people enriches the reader's understanding of this ancient culture.

Bauer also examines the ancient civilizations of the Indus Valley and China. She discusses the sophisticated urban planning and social organization of the Harappan culture, as well as the early Chinese dynasties of Shang and Zhou, highlighting their contributions to writing, philosophy, and governance. Bauer's ability to interweave these diverse cultures into a single narrative thread is a testament to her skill as a historian and storyteller.

The book provides an in-depth look into ancient Greece and the Roman Republic and Empire. Bauer details impactful philosophers like Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle, military and political exploits executed by figures like Alexander the Great, the legacies of Julius Caesar and Constantine, and many other topics. Readers should pay attention to the discussion on the administrative and military structures that enabled Rome to maintain its dominance and its defining cultural and technological innovations. Bauer then concludes with the fall of Rome, marking the end of ancient history as traditionally defined and setting the stage for the medieval period.

Having published over six books, Bauer's writing style and storytelling skills to cover such a large timeline are evident, making complex concepts understandable and lively to a broad audience without sacrificing depth or accuracy. Her narrative is richly detailed while avoiding overwhelming readers with excessive minutiae. The book is well-supported by maps, timelines, and illustrations that contextualize the narrative and provide visual aids. Bauer's use of primary sources and quotations adds depth to her account, bringing the voices of ancient peoples into the modern narrative.

However, the book's scope also presents challenges. Some readers may find certain sections too brief, as Bauer moves quickly through some significant events and figures to maintain the narrative's momentum. Despite her efforts to include non-Western civilisations, the book still feels like it leans heavily towards a Eurocentric perspective, particularly in its treatment of the later chapters on Greece and Rome.

Overall, The History of the Ancient World is an impressive and highly readable account of ancient history. Susan Wise Bauer's synthesis of a vast array of historical data into a coherent narrative is commendable. While the book's scope means that some areas are covered more briefly than others, it remains an invaluable resource for anyone interested in the history of the ancient world.

Continue reading...

[dallonwrites]

Lover Boy But It's The Camp Nano Intro?

Sometimes Beau thinks his heart must be made out of the most fragile, feebly tissue paper – the dainty pink stuff pushed into the bottom of a Valentines giftbag, the biodegradable kind that immediately crumbles when it’s met with water or trash compost or an uncaring hand. But it’s not his fault he’s a hopeless romantic.

genre: adult litfic

setting: san francisco, 1980s

deals with: grief and loss, queer history + the AIDS crisis, sex and the body, terminal illness and caretaking, being a hopeless romantic but like for all kinds of love, platonic love, friendship when one of them is ill and knows they will likely die, disability and how caretaking can reshape dynamics

summary: It's about love, babey! Beau tries to navigate all the different types of love in his life -- romantic, sexual, platonic, familial, communal, self -- as he leans into relationships, even the unhealthy ones, to try to cope with the death of his best friend Bobby, who Beau took care of whilst he was sick for two years. Told with a dual timeline showing those two years as Beau processes it. It's about being messy and confused and trying to understand how to move forward when the biggest part of your life is now gone. It's about being in love with your best friend but like platonically and also your best friend is dead. It's about queer sex and grief and caretaking and the AIDS crisis. Beau is also obsessed with horror movies and is definitely autistic but doesn't know it. Bobby loved volcanoes and mountains, acrylic painting, David Cronenberg movies and also The Muppets (his fave was Gonzo btw). If you want to know more I have a more detailed WIP intro and also the tag where I post way too long excerpts!

status: 16,391 words into the first draft, but that's been writing whenever/whatever I want rather than a consistent routine

my goal?: get a consistent drafting routine LOL. Word count wise I'd like 15k to basically double it, but we will see! Would love to write everyday at least though.

I haven't done taglists in a while buuuut if people are doing camp nano taglists? That could be fun? This story is so sad but sometimes it is so silly and fun. If you like stories where the grief and joy hold hands then this might be for you !!

What Beau remembers: The quiet when, for a long moment, Bobby didn’t speak. Then, a whisper. “Today wasn’t the day.” And Beau understood what he meant, a painful but deep knowing -- how they still weren't ready, whenever they talked about it, to say the word die. “No, today wasn’t the day.” Bobby, quieter. “And tomorrow. Tomorrow won’t be the day either.” “I don’t think it will.” Beau thinks, at this moment, that he kissed the top of Bobby’s head, or he whispered one into his hair, pressed his cheek into it. At least, that’s how he remembers, or how he wants to. “I don’t think it will be the day for a while.” What Beau remembers: Bobby, still quiet, his breathing slowed. But still awake. How he moved closer, and Beau held him tighter. Sometimes Beau believed that if he just held onto Bobby tighter it would somehow lengthen the time between now and the day, that the universe would sense their closeness and not dare to sever it. All if Beau just held him closer, heartbeat to heartbeat. It was so dark in the room, the moonlight a thin sheet behind the curtains; just them and their bodies, their breaths. And he thinks he remembers Bobby smiling, that he felt it or even sensed it, the presence of something happy, something that, for a moment, let itself be hopeful. “Your heartbeat is so relaxing,” he said. “I love that you sleep like Dracula.”

[jasontoddiefor]

I just binged Roses and Champagne and then saw your idea for Lee Won & Caesar meeting as kids and bestie I’m going to need you to elaborate on that because it is living in my head rent free and I need need need to know your thoughts I beg of you

Welcome to hell! I’ve managed to write like the start of this AU so uuu take a snippet and some thoughts.

The first time he met his father, the last time he was just Jung Leewon, he stood in the Russian embassy in Seoul, his entire life packed up in one suitcase. The winter frost covered the windows of the office he had been sitting in since they collected him from his foster parents, summoned by an unburied passport with his baby photo identifying him as someone’s son.

Miss Ivanova had been been looking over him since the early morning, bringing him snacks and hot chocolate, talking quietly in a Russian that sounded much calmer than that of his after-school teacher. Leewon had always known that his father must be Russian, the only explanation as to why his mother ensured he learned the language, why his features had the other kids laugh at him, but he hadn’t known his name.

His name held a meaning near impossible for a child to grasp. The workers in the embassy all glanced at him nervously, as though expecting a ghost to sweep through the office.

When the doors finally opened, a tall man followed by even more men in suits stormed the embassy. He was cursing up a storm too disastrous for Leewon to catch. The people in the embassy cowered in front of him like prey in front of a beast, a display of fear unlike Leewon had ever seen before.

And then the man’s eyes landed on Leewon, and his entire tirade stopped at once. He walked across the room as though daring anyone to stop him. In front of Leewon, this tall man fell to his knees, putting his hands on both sides of Leewon’s face.

“You look like Suyeon,” the man breathed, then pressed Leewon close to his chest, allowing him to bury his face in the stranger’s, in his father’s, neck. “I will take you home now, I promise, you will not be left alone again. All will be well.”

His mother had promised the same before the winter started, and she left him even before Christmas. Snow was falling heavily already, they’d have been able to celebrate in the snow.

So my basic thoughts so far are that his mother dies when he’s about nine? And in all the fuckery that goes into arranging a guardian, they discover huh!!! This kid has a Russian passport! Wonder where that leads! (Probably not accurate to the timeline but by today laws, he’d be eligible for dual citizenship). So Mikhail is informed and goes to pick his son up. And from there on o was thinking of Leewon’s life as filled witch dichotomies? Unlike Caesar, who really raised himself to survive, Leewon is kept preciously close and raised similarly. There’s no keeping him away from the mafia, so he must learn how to defend himself and what decisions to make, but he’s much more the princess in the tower instead of Daniel in the lions’ den.

And of course that fucks with him. He tries to run away exactly once, not yet quite having grasped the danger, and runs straight into Caesar, both kids, both raised very differently, perhaps both desiring a little what the other has (security vs freedom). Anyway, Leewon leaves an impression and they’re both returned to the places they ought to be, but hmm let’s say the connection lasts? Maybe teenage rebellion is talking semi amicably with the enemy and drunk kissing him in some shady alley. Maybe it’s all part of a plan to humiliate and win in this game of cat and mouse. Maybe you’re just sick of it all.

I don’t quite have like A Plot for this. Mostly I’m just caught by this idea of like, being raised as your parents’ child and what you do with that. I imagine at one point Leewon argues for going to university in Korea and that becomes a rather ugly fight in the family. And Vladimir being adopted somewhere between that poor kid and my son needs a companion and my son needs protection so that’s one messed up sinking relationship from the start.

So yeah!! Idk tell me your thoughts!!,

[onyourowndaisymae]

𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈 𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆𝒌𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈 - 𝒖𝒑𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒔, 𝒏𝒆𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 & 𝒓𝒖𝒍𝒆𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒚 𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒉𝒊𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒔

hello!

i'm alive. yay! it's certainly been a minute since i've posted anything substantial, and i'm here to rectify that. this post is long. very long. i talk about a lot here-- my absence, my thoughts on obey me nowadays, what i've experienced as a writer on this platform, and updates i'm making to the way this blog looks and runs.if you're interested in catching up but don't have the time or motivation to read all of this, feel free to scroll down to the closing remarks.

☆ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬 ☆

so, i will say this unintentional hiatus was caused by three things: my health, my shaky relationship with the obey me franchise, and the growing difficulties of participating in fandom. i'll address all three in that order.

★ 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐡 - my health has been shaky practically all of my adult life. i'm getting better about managing it, but even now, being twenty two years old and unable to keep up with my peers is... so exhausting. on my worst days, i am stuck in bed and distracting myself from the pain. the american healthcare system is a doozy that gives me a headache, but just know that i'm working towards proper diagnoses and treatment as fast as i can. i know that pushing myself to write for the sake of a regular posting schedule is ridiculous, so i have no intentions to do that. i will roll with the punches of my shitty health and hope i don't get knock on my ass again, lol.

★ 𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐲 𝐦𝐞 - okay. hater time. i don't really like nightbringer.

i know! i know! hold your rotten tomatoes and let me make these stocks my soapbox for just a minute while i explain! i promise i'm not being a thoughtless critic!

i think the writing for the franchise has been slowly going down in quality for awhile. i'm never going to act like this is the best writing i've ever seen in a video game, but obviously season 1 of the og game was good enough to get us all hooked. the conflicts felt real, the relationships felt earned, and the lore was really interesting. season 2 of the og game has a special place in my heart. the franchise used to be romantic! dark! horny! complex! it feels like in recent months, the game has become so sanitized that it's alienating the same userbase that gave such an odd concept a chance in the first place. season 2 opened with an aphrodesiac plotline, and now we can hardly get a kiss from our love interests. i'm not saying everything needs to be graphic smut, but come on! it's a romance game, damnit! with as many competitors solmare has in the otome market right now, i don't know why they wouldn't be focusing on dynamic and interesting romance.

nightbringer itself is. whooo. a dual-edged sword. on one hand, it turned me into a solomon simp, and clearly i can't get enough of this man. it also had some really touching character moments. asmo's arc about falling and missing how things used to be was fantastic. satan's early development and issues bonding with his brothers were handled really well. but at the same time... these characters have also struggled with flat and rushed writing in this game. satan almost exclusively is just "cat guy with a temper" now. barbatos' character, while nice to finally have romantic storylines, has been butchered for the sake of making sure every romanceable character is marketable early on. characters are saying "i love you" ENTIRELY too fast. i get that this is not the og game and things will obviously be different in this timeline, but at the very least, i expect the writers to handle this stuff with care. i'm disappointed by how one-note everything feels now.

also, while i'm up here on my soapbox, i will also say: i think the events are abysmal nowadays. fucking hell. i am disappointed every time i click on a story portion and read three lines before the screen fades out and it's over! the events used to be low-stakes, interesting ways to explore the characters, but now it's just. disappointing. i think something similar has happened to the devilgrams and the romance that used to be in them, although it's nowhere near as bad.

for all of my bitching and moaning, i still clearly like this game franchise. i'm still going to write for it. but i think it's important to discuss these failings as a community. it helps people feel less alone when their passion begins to wane for something they once loved for seemingly no reason. maybe we can prevent the series from falling apart before its bitter end. it does not make you a "bad fan" to be able to critique something you love-- it means you love it enough to know when it's not at its best.

★ 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 - at some point, i found i got really intimidated by posting on my own blog. i began to psych myself out with every post, every like, every thing i got excited about. "is this good enough? do i want people to see this?" it's one thing to want to put your best foot forward, but another entirely to try to make every single thing you post perfect in an ill-fated attempt to fend of criticism from yourself of others. it's why i never took up art or music to any serious degree-- why put so much effort into something that's doomed to fail?

and then came the worry about notes and reblogs and followers. fandom should never be a numbers game, and for a lot of people it isn't. but it became a legitimate worry of mine that people would be disappointed if i didn't put out something with universal appeal, and thus, i'd be disappointed myself that i didn't live up to some unspoken expectation. i wanted to start posting for a new fandom, but then i became really worried people would feel "cheated" for following me when they expected one thing and got another.

obviously, this is not a healthy mindset. i needed to take a step back.

how did i resolve this? why didn't i just quit? well, for starters, i took some time to remember why i started posting. i have been writing fanfiction all of my life, usually shared with only a singular person and obsessed about until all of the dopamine was wrung dry from it. bringing it online was a deliberate choice. at first, it was because i was desperate for content for a small fandom (collar x malice, my beloved!) and thought "if nobody's gonna post this, i will!". but then i got into obey me, a much bigger fandom. through posting, i found a larger community of people who loved this piece of media just as fervently as i did. so many people of amazing talents dedicating their time and effort into expressing their love for this hobby. as i did the same, i began to gain a small following. one of my series blew up and gained me praise from some of my absolute favorite people in the fandom-- now, they're my friends who i adore. i began to grow proud of my writing. i'd never been proud like that before. posting on tumblr has proven to me that i'm capable of stepping out of my comfort zone and take the risk to do something, even if i'll fail. that is something i am so thankful for and can never replace.

i won't pretend fandom doesn't have its faults. every time i log on, i can scroll long enough to find something that absolutely exhausts me. labors of love are, at the end of the day, still labor, and work without appreciation is demoralizing. fandom is run by passion, but when there's a drought of people willing to put themselves out there it becomes hard to invest your energy into.

i don't have a perfect solution for this. all i know is that i can also scroll long enough to find a piece of writing or art so breathtaking that it invigorates my creative spirit. or i'll check my notifications and find a comment or reblog that absolutely makes my day. and isn't that worth sticking around a bit longer?

in the future, i'll try to be better about announcing my breaks and also just... pacing myself better. sometimes it'll be a bit until you hear from me. i hope that's okay. know i'll never log off for good without an explanation. i'd like to keep posting my silly little stories for a long time.

☆ 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐮𝐩𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 ☆

jesus. that previous section was waaaaay too long. okay. time to lock in.

★ i have a new theme! i used to have a sort of vague space-y theme, but i'm committing to the stars. do you like them? i hope so :3

★ i'm gonna get a bit weirder with the content. part of what has inspired me to keep writing is people coming up with the most off-the-wall, random, interesting ideas that i come back to consistently. that will include some dark content and the themes surrounding it like violence, horror, etc. things here will ALWAYS be tagged as thoroughly as i can. if you're not interested in reading that, no worries! hopefully something else i've written will catch your eye. (and obviously, minors, do not interact with this content. you shouldn't be in here-- my "byf" page has indicated this page is 18+ since the beginning).

★ as a general rule, i've decided that i'm no longer going to take requests. i love the enthusiasm and hearing people's ideas, but ultimately, i never end up doing them. instead, my ask box is always open for post suggestions, conversations, etc. i just don't want the sort of obligation that requests come with hanging out in the background anymore. this is, however, subject to change for special events, like that trick or treat event i did in the past and the fics for gaza event i'm doing currently, so stay tuned!

★ ... despite my in-depth obey me ramblings above, this is a multi-fandom page, lol. i will forever and always give my flowers to collar x malice. i am interested in posting occasional fics here for other fandoms in the general otome genre, so keep an eye out for those.

★ the above rule has been broken by my beloved, twisted wonderland. remember above where i mentioned wanting to post about a new fandom? yeah, it's this one. it became too much of an obsession. the new blog is centered around making night raven college an actual college, as well as just other twst content as well. the username is @daisystwistedgarden. give it a follow if you like that content! i probably won't discuss it much here, as i want the writing to stand on its own, but the pages have very similar layouts. that's me on a sideblog, don't worry :)

★ the masterlists are getting an entire overhaul and will now be organized by character. i procrastinated the hell out of these-- make overhauling the masterlists reason 3.5 for the hiatus. i will queue those up to post overnight sometime this week, so expect those sometime soon.

☆ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 + 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐬 ☆

if you're here, i want to say thank you. this blog, which originally started on a whim, has really done a lot for me. i love writing (even if i hate all the boring administrative parts of running a blog) and the fact that you people spare the time to read my silly little posts is insane to me. while i was gone, we hit the 2k follower mark (and the 2.1k follower mark, too!) and i'm just. baffled. thank you.

i'm back, i'm ready to write, and i'm excited to see where this takes me. give me a couple of days to fully replace all the old posts with new ones and make everything look right, but after that, i'll be posting again like normal. if you're interested in my twisted wonderland content, follow @daisystwistedgarden, and if you want to support my writing and gaza at the same time, consider donating to my "sponsor a WIP" page here.

once again, thank you for reading, for liking, for reblogging, for following, for hanging out in my ask box-- all of it. it means the world to me that i get to enjoy this slice of the internet with such wonderful people.

talk soon. (for real this time). xx