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madschiavelique · 1 year ago

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Cursed Vampire!Miguel O'Hara

Okay so i came back from this tiny pause and idk why but a sudden hit of vampire diaries content has been multiplying all over my medias after i returned fully and ooo boi

vampire miguel

but not any vampire miguel

cursed vampire!miguel

on the 30th of august i did a spell for the blue moon in pisces and i was guided by my witchy friend who reminded me about the 4 elements and their usage in witchcraft : if you want something fast you use fire (candles), something that is a bit less faster and that purifies you use air (incent for instance), something that takes a little longer and that you use to heal you use water (rain, rivers, moon water etc) and if you want to make something to last in time, you use earth (burying something in the earth for instance)

and she punctuated this recall by “which is why curses are most of the time buried in the earth, because it lasts in time”

and I was like

yea cursed vampire miguel

but with a twist

content warnings : mentions of blood, killings, miguel trying to kill himself but failing, general vampire stuff and some personal lore i elaborated word count : 4,6k (not proofread)

Let’s imagine the setting. A little village lost in the middle of nowhere, Miguel being perhaps mayor, or even just chief of the village if we go back enough in time to a point where electricity was still just a thing you could see when lightning was striking in the sky but had no place in your home.

He owns the biggest house, a manor with multiple rooms and multiple people living in it ranging from normal villagers to servants. Is he a member of the aristocracy ? Not so much, let’s say that he was a hard worker in the fields or something that involved him getting them big muscles (lumberjack perhaps, who knows) and that he revolted against a previous higher up that owned the place.

Xina, his lover at the time, was a witch, hiding the village. She had helped Miguel with her magic without him knowing when he made the rebellion happen. See, she was ambitious, and if Miguel could help her reach her goals, then she’d use him to her own profit. But one more thing, she was deeply in love with him.

And he did love her, until one thing happened. Dana, Dana D’Angelo happened.

Xina believed in many things, in spirits, in demons, in deities, but if there was one thing she didn’t believe in was second chances.

And so, she cursed him, for you don’t play with a woman’s heart, even less with a witch's one.

It had been a few days since the symptoms of this curse still unknown to his consciousness had started spreading within his body.

First, the same night she was executing the ritual, he couldn’t sleep well. He felt heavy, and yet his head felt airy like it was full of cotton. He felt feverish, his shaking body boiling one last time before his life would turn to eternal ice. He had weird dreams that night, altering between horrors and his eyes opening to his window, looking at the full moon.

The next day felt odd, he had this sort of dryness that never left his mouth, and no matter how much he passed his tongue on the inside of it or drunk anything, it stayed parched. The difficulty and surprise settled in when he tried to eat his breakfast but his silverware burned him. He ended up taking something that did not necessitate him to cut, an apple, a fruit, something to satiate the sharp hunger that burned in his body.

He didn’t like seeing people much in the morning, but considering how many lived in this place, he’d have to face them some time or later. And the light, the light from outside felt… too bright for his eyes. The chandeliers that were still getting lit up in the corridors didn’t burn his eyes though, so why ?

That night, he couldn’t sleep. The next day, going outside felt like an army of ants were crawling under his skin as he got under the sun, and these tingles lasted all day, until at the end of it the tingles had turned into a slight burning. He didn’t understand, it was winter, and here he was catching sunburns.

And the next day, another symptom added itself to the list. Why did the people surrounding him smelled so good ? Why did he feel like being near anyone gave him the sensation that he had not eaten anything for days and that they were smelling exactly like the one thing he craved for and needed ?

And then he couldn’t see himself any more in the mirrors, and cutlery felt like he was touching hell, and being outside was like being in hell. And when he passed someone that felt so good, why were his nails elongated into claws ? He definitely ruined some curtains at some point because he was trying to retract them.

And… wait, Xina hadn’t been much around lately. Why couldn’t he get a grasp of her ? Why did he never cross her way ? Had she discovered about his affair ?

And then, one night, when the multiple symptoms had added and fixed themselves entirely in Miguel’s body, his entire property started acting weird around him.

He could hear their whispers, their hearts beating in their chests and pumping blood in their entire body, he could smell their singular perfumes from metres away : everything felt as heightened as dull.

More and more people started leaving their place from the manor. They had heard rumours, rumours saying that he was a malfeasant being, that he had organised the rebellion for power and that he intended to turn everyone here slaves to his demonic energy.

Soon enough, only Miguel remained in the manor. He was more and more absent, living as a recluse in his own part of his quarters.

And one night, as someone was banging heavily on his doors, he came downstairs. As he opened them, he saw that the villagers that had been living under the same roof with him for several months were armed, ready to stab or spike him.

Of course, Xina was at the center of the group. Followed what looked like a fight, but Miguel was almost twice bigger than most of them, and ten times stronger, so he massacred most of the rebels against him until the remaining ones decided to leave the village.

Xina came to him, and told him :

"You have grievously offended me by your cheating, and this crime against me is an affront I could not let pass. Hence, I have cursed you."

Miguel tried to attack her, but as his claws tried to dig into her, he was violently pushed away and his back came into contact with a wall, he fell to the ground, remaining seated against it. Xina walked towards him.

"You can't do anything to me," she said, a pale glow glimmering around her as the sort of crystal crisalide that surrounded her faded at the lack of impact against it.

"What have you done to me?" he breathed.

"I told you, I cursed you," she knelt. "I made you a vampyr."

he looks at her, his eyes finally turning red. She smiled. He had heard of these creatures of legend, these stories made to frighten children and the superstitious, but he had never thought that he would become one in his turn.

"You should be happy, I've given you the gift of immortality. I told myself that eternity would be enough time for you to reflect on your actions," she said, tilting her head to one side. "The few friends you have left will die, those around me will die too, and much later it will be my turn to die. But you, you will remain. Children age, lovers perish. Kingdoms are born and burn up, and you, you will go on."

He didn't want eternity. Why want it when you know the world you live in, but did he really have a choice?

"But you see, even in my revenge I will remain merciful. I offer you two solutions." she said, raising her hand next to her head to count the options. "The first, you find my curse, and destroy it, which will return you to mortal rank." Hope sprang up in Miguel's now cold mind. "Secondly, you find someone who will love you despite what you are and be prepared to forgive all your faults and misdeeds. However, they won't bring mortality back to you, you'll simply be able to change them into a being just like you, and to live with that person for eternity." She rose to her feet, looking down on him before saying her last words:

"Farewell, Miguel O'Hara. The secret of my curse will be taken to my grave. You were my first and last love. You took hold of my heart and crushed it. If you fail to find my curse, choose well." Choose well.

She left, leaving him alone. Remorse, Regret, Guilt and Anger mingled within him in his grey heart. He was alone.

The first decades and the first century were most complex. First of all, he searched the entire region, every piece of land and stone, for Xina's curse. His first instinct was to go to the room she occupied in the manor house, but she had taken everything she owned with her. He went to his family home, searching every room with great interest. But there was nothing.

He searched the library of his manor for information on witches and their rituals, and the only information he could find was that most curses were buried in the ground.

Days, weeks, months of digging everywhere, and nothing. Strictly nothing. The despair of loneliness overtook him earlier than he thought, and soon enough, he tried to put an end to it.

He tried many times. To make matters worse, all the silver objects he used for everything had been taken away by the villagers. The coup had been prepared, Xina had planned everything so that he would have to live with himself.

Hanging himself was useless, as he could no longer breathe, and the cutlery, which was not made of silver, bent against his skin when he tried to stab himself. All night he tried, and when the time finally came for the sun to rise, he placed himself in full sunlight, telling himself that the tingling would be enough to finish him off.

But nothing, the sun stung his pale skin slightly, but didn't go any further. The sensation was slightly unpleasant, but he wasn't suffering terribly. Trying to stay all day in the sun to try and burn himself was useless, for when night came, his skin healed by itself.

Rage hung in his stomach as much as hunger, but he smelt something so enticing that for a moment he wondered if normal blood was flowing through his veins again and he was alive. A simple passer-by had come too close to the village, and Miguel had let his gnawing desire for something to eat get the better of him, draining all the energomer's blood in just a few seconds.

It didn't take him long to become addicted to the feeling of life that filled him everytime he drank blood. He couldn't live like a human again right? So he would take whatever human life he could find on his path.

He knew of a small village nearby where he could feast. It took him a long time to learn to control his appetite, but it took less to learn that his curse had given him an intoxicating beauty that attracted all those he desired. Another of Xina's cruel tricks, he told himself, people will simply be blinded by my aura, thinking they love me when it's really just cursed desire.

He began methodically, taking the inhabitants back to his manor one by one. The first few times he drank them raw, but soon he got used to not drinking all their blood and making them his reserves. They were intoxicated, he could do whatever he wanted with them, but above all: their blind desire made them immensely loyal. None of them ran away, none of them refused to have their blood drunk, and even if Miguel told them to leave, they were far too pained by the thought and preferred to stay.

When the village was hit by an epidemic of a disease, Miguel went there to dump the few corpses that had not survived his bites, so that his business could pass incognito.

He knew of a town not far away and how difficult it was to house all its inhabitants. He went there, explaining to the mayor that he had recently bought a piece of land not far away with old abandoned houses that could help. "What a generous man," said the mayor, and soon enough much of the overcrowded town found itself reviving the village.

Miguel was an experimentalist in his approach to humans. It was so strange to have to deal with them in this way, not as people like himself, but as prey and how he would go about capturing them.

In particular, he was experimenting with his physical abilities. Some twenty years later, when the village was well established, he was tempted to go to the village pub. He could drink as much as he liked and didn't get drunk, he could carry heavy loads without any problem, and he gave himself over to the desires of the flesh with an excpetional energy that pleased all his partners - although they all complained about his icy body.

A century later, all was well, he had once again continued his trick of taking various villagers to his home and making them his delicacies, but he was doing it more sparingly. Humans became less foolish with time, and soon disappearances became too much of a topic in the village. Miguel was finally suspected, after a series of attempts to pin the blame on other suspects.

The slaughter was terrible, and the bottles of wine he filled with blood in the huge cellar of his manor house multiplied until he no longer had to hunt for a long time.

The company of men had become too boring for him. He had become bitter towards them, finding them profoundly idiotic. So he locked himself away in his books, and only left his manor occasionally to go and get more.

But Miguel was no longer interested in finding a way to end it all, he now wanted to get on with feeding his intellect and perhaps, who knows, one day help humans to make this world a better place and become less stupid.

Fifty years later you arrived. You had fled from a village further afield and found this one, which seemed untouched and empty, just what you needed to live peacefully.

You entered the manor house, and unlike all the other dwellings in the area, this one didn't seem so dilapidated and abandoned. You were convinced that someone was living there as soon as you saw one of the chandeliers lit. You arrived in the library, which was by far the least dusty part of the house, and for good reason - Miguel hardly ever went out of it. You found him sitting in his armchair with a book in his hand.

Miguel was 232 at the time, and had long since forgotten the second chance that Xina had offered him. And now that he was a more mature vampyr who didn't attack everything that moved, he managed to strike up a conversation with you.

He was intrigued that a human had arrived here, it's been a long time since he'd seen one. At first he was bothered that you were disturbing his calm and solitude, and he hesitated to kill you on the spot, just like that, without you having time to wonder what was happening.

But when you explained that you'd run away from your village, he was intrigued. And his interest was further piqued when he learned that the reason you had fled was that you were suspected of practising witchcraft, and therefore should be burnt. You didn't really seem like much of a threat, but then again, Xina didn't seem much of a threat either...

He also noticed that his charms weren't working on you, as you were obviously protected. His trained nose detected garlic in your necklace and bracelet, mixed with other herbs that wouldn't do him any good if he were to come to close to them.

Garlic cleanses, it 'purifies', it's a very good antibiotic like lemon (which repels spiders). Vampyrism would have been considered a blood disease, which in Miguel's eyes was not far from the truth.

Eating garlic purified the bacteria present in the blood and, according to some people, would either turn a vampyr back into a normal person or cause their death. The plague came from miasmas, and strong smells like garlic and spices kept them away, which was a reason in the collective mind for vampyrs to use them as a repelling weapon. These little things wouldn't do him much harm, but their influence was enough for you to not feel his hypnoze.

He agreed to let you stay with him, and went so far as to hunt animals for you and bring you vegetables from his garden so that you could eat properly. Why did he keep you with him when he could no longer stand humans and you could be a danger to him? It's quite simple.

Vampyrs aren't sentimental, the only state that comes close to love or attraction for them is obsession, and it didn't take Miguel long to develop one for you. Second, after so many years of loneliness, sharing some parts of his days with someone felt good. And then there was the fact that you were a witch, and that with a bit of luck you'd be able to help him put an end to his curse.

You started off naively enough, but you were curious about vampyrs and kept asking him questions on the subject:

"Why can't you see yourselves in the mirror?"

He sighs, taking you to a room in the manor where stood an old mirror. He took your arm and placed you with him in the reflection. You could only see your own reflection, and just as you were about to marvel in your shudder, Miguel explains:

"That mirror you see there is made of steel, a material that could be lethal to me, and is a formidable weapon against my kind. I'd advise you not to try and break it to attack me, that would be a serious mistake. Most of the mirrors there were in my time were made of steel, and since then they've started to make..." he led you further into a corridor where there was another mirror, "made of aluminium."

He placed you in front of it again, and this time you could see your reflection in the mirror. He was so tall compared to you, and so powerful... a shiver ran down your spine as your eyes met.

"With fae, they can't see themselves in lead, it's their Achilles heel." he said before letting you go and moving on.

You didn't feel any particular hatred towards vampyrs, more a certain curiosity, and obviously a fright. These creatures had been alive for so long, had seen empires fall, kingdoms be born, wars break out, and they had lived through so much...

Miguel had almost forgotten the need for humans to sleep. Fortunately, there was still one bed for you to occupy: Miguel's.

It was a bit dusty, and you even joked to Miguel that you were surprised it wasn't a coffin. He sighed as he got your bed ready, thinking that if you hoped to make friends in such a mediocre way he'd already regret his decision to keep you.

But that didn't stop him watching over you while you slept.

You seemed so peaceful like that, abandoned to the world of dreams, of your insignificant little life. Your frailty fascinated him. And to think that he himself had once been like that...

Your days were quiet, there weren't many exciting activities. You were used to picking and working all day in your village, but here you had nothing to do.

So you chatted to Miguel, listening to him tell you a bit about his whole life. In 232 years of existence one must have a few amusing anecdotes to tell, don't you think? You spent almost all of your time together, and it wasn't long before you started to have feelings for him.

You were afraid, afraid of what he would think, that he would tell you that "it was to be expected, humans are so easily corrupted. You don't love me, you're simply attracted by the beauty that was given to me to attract you."

But you knew it wasn't that evil charm that had got you, it was him all over. Perhaps you should avoid him? Maybe you should leave...

Miguel had felt the change in you, heard how your heart beat a little faster and stronger when you spoke to him, noticed the change in your attitude, especially when he caught you deep in thought. You were hiding something from him, and he was curious to know what.

One evening, when you'd pretended to go to bed, you came down the stairs, grabbed a few provisions that you'd packed in your basket in the kitchen, and silently walked through the big door. It wrung your heart to leave, but a human and a vampyr are an impossible love story. It was only a few minutes later, as your smell and the presence of your warmth began to disappear, that Miguel looked up from his book and your absence hit him right in the throat.

You trudged along on the muddy ground, the snow falling on your body and chilling you despite your coat. A sound of wind as swift and as a sharp blade on a stone brushed against your ear when Miguel was standing in front of you. You stopped walking, watching the prince of the night who was not afraid of the cold let himself be caressed by the snowflakes. None of them melted on his skin.

"What are you doing?" he asked, even though the question sounded almost like a threat.

"I realised that my humanity would be my undoing soon enough in your presence, and so I chose to leave."

"Why," he questioned as he moved closer to you until you had to tilt your head back in the hope of continuing to look him in the eye.

Your heart raced, "My personal affections towards you have shifted."

"Shifted?" he enquired as his hand gently came to clear the melted flakes from your cheeks, or was it your tears? "How have they shifted?"

"They became... omnipresent."

A slight smile stretched his lips as his fingers passed under your chin

"Tell me about them." an order, a necessity.

"They... they make me feel different." you say as your voice shrivels.

"How different," he says as he leans in and brings his face close to yours.

"Warm, and fuzzy," you whispered, "and make my every thoughts come back to... you."

Your breath catches on his lips, his red eyes never leaving yours.

"Am I the object of your love, mi vida?" His breath was cold, and exuded death.

"Yes, you are," you confirm as your voice cracks.

He came to kiss you, the coolness of his lips even colder than the night, and you shivered as the contrast with your skin and the sensation of passion in his kiss sent tingles to the back of your skull.

In as many years of existence, you're the only one who's managed to make him feel human again, and that's enough for him.

"Let's bring you back inside, alright?" he said as he parted from your lips to lift you up in one fell swoop into his princess arms.

And so your relationship gradually metamorphosed, each day sweeter and more fused than the last, until finally the time came for Miguel to think about making you his eternal bride.

What a vile gift she had given him, to allow him to turn you into such a loathsome, despicable, odious being. This choice was going to deprive you of so many things. From the sunlight going from caress to crush, your appetite capsizing, your inability to sleep again. And he didn't want to deprive you of your life.

He didn't want to turn you into such a monstrosity, but you reassured him, explaining that there was nothing in the world that would make you shy away from being with him. Besides, was a life without him by your side really worth living when you were growing old and he remained eternally young and beautiful?

So, with determination, he finally sank his fangs into your skin and set about turning you into a vampire. He simply let the venom infect your veins without ever, ever drinking your blood.

And your change took place just as his had, over the course of several days. He mopped up your fever, held you close to him when your dreams were strange, got you used to going out in the sun without going too far, and then introduced you to drinking blood. He had forgotten how hungry and powerful a new vampire could be, and seeing you almost empty his entire wine cellar made him shudder: not with regret or disgust, but with euphoria.

Never again would he be alone.

The years went by, and your couple survived every era. The good thing about living forever is that you can always find ways to entertain yourself, and it stays with you over time. You still remember so well, for example, that moment when you swam in that lake moving a poor piece of wood and people nicknamed the legendary creature you had inadvertently created 'the Lochness monster'.

It wasn't until years later, out of curiosity, that Miguel wondered what had become of Xina. And after several months of intensive research around the world, you find her grave.

He had read some of the records of what she had achieved. She had climbed far enough up the social ladder until her decisions were taken seriously by certain governors. But soon enough, when she passed the age of 110 while still looking pretty young for her age, she was accused of witchcraft, and instead of dying at the stake, she stabbed herself in the heart, her relatives burying her here.

The two of you stood by her grave and still insisted on bringing her flowers. But it was as he lowered himself to the ground that Miguel remembered what she'd said: "The secret of my curse will be taken to my grave."

Could it be...

So you both set about digging it all up, digging until you finally found her coffin. You were, after all, creatures of blasphemy, but opening her grave made you hesitate at first. Who knows what spell she might have put on her coffin to ensure that anyone who opened it would be cursed?

But when he opened it and discovered her skeleton, he found nothing.

"You were my first and last love. You grabbed my heart..."

"And you crushed it," he whispered.

He plunged his hand between her empty ribs, until he touched something hard, something that didn't have the texture of bone. He reached for the object, a wooden box sealed with black wax.

"Is it... what I think it is ?" you asked.

He nodded, silent. He wouldn't open it, he'd learned from some of his lessons. With his powerful hand, he crushed the box between his fingers with ease, a cascade of dust mixed with sand, herbs and other objects from the ritual surging through his fingers.

And his body burned with a delicious warmth. The familiarity of the humanity in him completed itself, while for you, too, vitality returned to your veins.

The curse was lifted, and now you could act normally. What a surprise it was when your two bodies touched and the warmth they emanated made you smile. And what a joy it was to be able to eat normally and not get a rash on your skin if you spent too many hours in the sun.

Thus your life ended in peace and love, both of you continuing your lives together peacefully.

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cthulhubert · 6 months ago

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Reading the original Vampire Hunter D novels was a very fascinating experience that I can't actually recommend to anyone.

In most ways, they're very straight-forward pulpy adventure stories. Nothing about the plots or dialogue are compelling. The translation is competent at least.

But the world building is fascinating, rife with fun little details.It's like the author, Hideyuki Kikuchi thought of some off the wall stuff and threw it in for aesthetics, but then comes up with background to explains it, and then actually builds on that explanation, rather than leave it as a fig leaf.

The books are set post post post apocalypse. Humanity nearly wiped themselves out in a nuclear war, so the vampires and other creatures of the night came out of hiding and ruled for ten thousand years... and then started slowly but steadily declining. No longer strong enough to have total control over the world, but more than powerful enough to topple humanity's attempts to organize.

Humanity is in this weird pseudo-medieval state except they also have stuff like cyber-horses. Why? Because that's how the Aristocracy (the v-word is gauche) liked it!

Humanity has been genetically engineered with psychological blocks, such that if they ever learn about the vampires' great weaknesses (other than the sun: garlic, crosses, holy water) they'll immediately forget them!

It's ostensibly "pure sci-fi" because there's no magic. The story is clear about this. Vampires just have novel biology. That gives them telekinesis. (And hemokinesis too. I've always thought that should be a fundamental vampire ability. It's how they slurp every last drop of blood out of a human without needing to like suspend the body and let them bleed out. They also soak cloaks with the blood of virgins over the course of decades and end up with one they can control, to turn into shield or sword.)

D is your classic pulp-y OP protagonist (I compare him in my mind to Doc Savage). Made from the gametes of the Aristocracy's greatest scientist and genetic engineer (whose name also starts with D, wink wink nudge nudge), and his lover: humanity's greatest psychic. He was implanted with a parasite engineered to not take over his body and be helpful instead. He inherited an indestructible sword crafted by the greatest swordsmith who ever lived. He's equipped with a supercomputer in a pendent that can auto-hack most technological locks and defenses. He uses the same cyber-horses as everyone else, but because of his "ability to commune with their inner natures" can wring double performance out of them.

What started me thinking about this is the dhampir like protagonist of yet another forgettable Isekai story (actually, this was a "Returner" manhwa, a genre much more popular in Korea now, which involves people reincarnating back from isekai worlds, or traveling back in time, etc). This guy, like the protagonists of many stories, is so overpowered he is a geopolitical super-power embodied in a single person. That always takes me out of the story, because I can only think about how much responsibility that would entail in my mind, and these guys just use it to fuck around.

#words #original #vampire hunter d #admittedly most of the 'returner' genre just has the character as like pointman against an existential threat #if I got to live into the utopian future where my free time is spent fucking around making/running/playing in virtual worlds #d is about the ideal power level for my personal satisfaction #every now and then the urge to ramble seizes hold of me; most of the time I just drop it in a text file but I felt like sharing this one

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realunderlake · 5 months ago

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Fantasy Ideology Part 1: Magic

I don't know if this is anything, but sometimes I like to think about the ideological and social impacts about elements of fantasy worldbuilding.

Like, take magic for example. There are generally different ways it's presented in fantasy fiction. Sometimes, it requires an innate aspect of being to use (a la the force in Star Wars, or however the heck harry potter magic works.) Sometimes this innate aspect is heritable, and sometimes it is completely random. Other times, magic is something that requires rigorous study. And yet, we seem to have one broad conception of magic in most fantasy media: Wizards sitting off in their tower, doing spells and stuff. Most settings don't think about how magic would impact the world that much, and instead make the world a bland, medieval Europe pastiche.

But lets look at magic from a social perspective, taking the classic DnD approach of "A wizard can be taught magic, though it generally takes a long time, and they should start from adolescence." You know what Magic is then comparable to? Because it's not a university professor... It's a Knight. For much of human history, aristocrats were warriors, because learning to be a *good* warrior, who used the most high tech stuff (whether that be chariots, or the couched lance) took a lot of effort, and you had to start pretty young, similar to how magic works. Thus, the social consequences of magic should be obvious, magic should be something that is used by the upper classes of a society, as they are the ones that are able to invest the time and energy into mastering it.

Perhaps however, as technology advances, magic becomes more widespread. Rather than having to painstakingly craft your own equipment, you can get it mass produced. Rather than working on outdated theories of physics (Aristotelian perhaps) you can observe the effects and costs of magic in a much more scientific way, increasing the effectiveness, and perhaps lowering the barrier to entry. Magic would be less blacksmithing, and more welding.

But in an instance like that, the ruling classes would not simply give up this power that they have, unless they have a reason to do so. Perhaps a king supports an up and coming magical bourgeoise to counteract the power of the magic-wielding noble class, for example. A good example of this is in the webnovel Mother of Learning, where the social forces have driven magic to be more equally available, after a devastation of the magic using ruling class through a combination of calamitous war, and the magical equivalent of the black death. In this gap of experienced mages, most of the polities have begun to allow "middle class" non-mage families into magical academies to bolster their ability to fight in the next continent-spanning conflict. This in turn has led to a backlash by the magic-wielding aristocracy, who have engaged in power struggles with the central government of the kingdom in which the story takes place, with many of these "Nouveau Riche" mages taking the side of the monarchy which has formed an unsteady alliance with these more progressive voices.

In any setting that puts some thought into how magic works in it's society, magic should be, by necessity, controlled by the ruling class. Whether that be because the ruling class are the only ones with the means to produce mages due to the required investment, or because those with the power to warp reality itself have decided that they, quite reasonably, want to be in charge.

Most wizards are written as weirdos off in towers because of Lord of the Rings, and because of cultural assumptions from Europe. But crucially, Europe never actually had wizards, and Gandalf was an angel, not a mortal man.

Even in settings where magic is not something trained, but instead something innate, there would be some method by which mages interact with society on a systemized level. Having them be simply random hermits makes no sense. Ars Magica, the TTRPG, for example, has a situation where most mages have a magical "gift", but said gift also makes it impossible for them to be liked or trusted by normal people. Despite this handicap, the Order of Hermes in that setting controls a good amount of political clout, with powerful Covenants being able to ignore the rulings of kings, and the Tribunal of Transylvannia basically co-ruling much of the Kingdom of Hungary with it's actual king.

These interactions of magic with class dynamics has interesting implications for the developments of ideologies. Will access to magical education be seen as a proletarian struggle in the development of socialism? Will Aristocracy persist for longer periods due to the inherent bias of the elites literally having magic? Can liberalism exist in a society where some people can warp reality with a snap of their fingers? Will it do *even better*, due to the radical individualist message meshing with the individual power held by magic?

Interesting Questions.

#political #ideology #fantasy #worldbuilding #ttrpg #dnd #d&d #mother of learning #Ars Magica

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bimboficationblues · 1 month ago

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can you describe the three projects of the poll

liberalism: the minimal version of the idea is to lay out an alternative history of liberal political thought to the prevailing one, which focuses on the category of security, identifying liberalism as the descendant of aristocracy that sought to create more stable, predictable outcomes ("security") and avert arbitrary ones through the development of positive law. inspired by the work of Evgeny Pashukanis, M. Neocleous, Geoff Mann, Ishay Landa. the maximal version of the idea is to do the "book on the state" for the current moment, i.e. CoPE stuff.

sex: this is probably the most "in-development" concept but I'm interested in the ways that sex is valued, the ways in which sexual labor-power is exceptionalized and marked out as unique or different in kind from other forms of labor while simultaneously subjected to the same processes, and how this is embodied in law

realism: discussing distinct theories of "political realism," their relevance within and for a revolutionary socialism, and counterposing this against various versions of conspiratorial, magical, and wishful thinking - what it might look like for a broadly disempowered communist movement to think about moving past that phase of disempowerment.

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verdemoun · 6 months ago

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i have to ask becuz i love sean and i love ur au, since darragh was famous back in 1899, is he famous still? or is there anyway sean or lenny or anyone stumbles across more info about him?

he isn't famous like due to the (vague gesture to the history of ireland) but almost all info still available on him is stuff sean had absolutely no idea about. thankfully this is an idea i have had cooking for a while so hold onto your hats

annabelle (my queen) is constantly travelling internationally due to her work as a humanitarian and the second she gets asked to speak at a conference in ireland she violently insists that sean and kieran come with her (lenny could come too but he's busy with exams :c)

pls take this moment to consider the challenges of getting sean and kieran on a plane. it's a minimum 10 hour flight everyone's worried about how kieran will react to the general chaos of it but my boy has his headphones and every season of my little pony friendship is magic he's fine. sean, on the other hand, practically has to be sedated. hitting them with the are we there yet after half an hour in the air. might have a slight panic attack being in an enclosed space for so long. his last transatlantic crossing was on a boat and sure it took weeks but he could fucking run around.

poor annabelle standing there with their bags outside the airport while sean and kieran just lay on the nature strip. proper irish soil!! irish grass!! irish air!! a proper irish pub with proper irish food!! (annabelle is aware they are not allowed to drink unsupervised and to try and rein them in if it gets problematic but denying irish boys a chance to drink at an irish pub?)

so many buildings have been preserved sean can literally navigate the city like he never left. it's very obvious if kieran wasn't there he would've run off and annabelle would have no hope in hell of finding him.

sean remembering stuff he didn't even know he remembered. they'll be walking around or doing touristy history shit and he'll be hit with a vivid memory of being in that place with his da. there are some businesses still open from the time period. he can literally buy bread from the same bakery his da did that was cooked in the same brick oven.

kieran is in charge of taking photos and he takes the best and worst photos. sean will point out a tree he used to climb or a sidewalk he tripped over one time and scraped his knee real bad and his da had to carry him because he as a child insisted his leg was broken and kieran will photograph it.

the big thing is a lot of darragh's legitimate political work is what he's remembered for/easily documented and as a child that was both a) boring as shit and b) not something he fully understood so sean is learning about like all these rallies and amazing debates his da had with career politicians and landowners where his blessed self-educated father absolutely kicked ass.

obviously darragh hated the british and had some contentious arguments with irish-born landowners but it's so obvious how much he loved his son. after sean was born he started advocating for education like children should not be expected to work how can people expect the public to even recognize the corruption of politics or that the people meant to represent them are cut from same cloth as the parasitic aristocracy and win votes through a crass imitation of the struggles of the poor if they're not educated.

sean still struggling to understand half his father's debates because it's really clicking just how smart darragh was. they're following a biographical map of darragh's movements through ireland and he's facetiming lenny from massive parliament halls like 'apparently my da gave a speech here about the rights of the working class?? there's a rumor he punched the lord lieutenant but that was british propaganda?? here's an oil painting of my da punching the lord lieutenant??'

lenny is seething HOW DID YOU NOT KNOW YOUR DA WAS A MAJOR POLITICAL FIGURE???!?!?! I JUST REMEMBER THE FUN STUFF LIKE SETTING FIRE TO SHIT

darragh's murder at the time had massive political implications in ireland and while most of it was lost to history there's some snippets of really positive things even his political opponents said about him following his death. plus there was a riot that ended with the burning of a major british agency building. sean gets a laminated poster of the newspaper article and takes selfies with the memorial plaque.

#rdr2 timewarp au #sean macguire #btw darragh absolutely did punch the lord lieutenant but it wasn't in parliament it was immediately afterwards #his ghost would be very annoyed that people think it was propaganda he broke two fingers and dislocated that british bastard's jaw

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reigenkills · 2 years ago

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MISSION FROM GOD TO FILL THIS TAG, GOD BLESS. THIS IS A SERIES NOW I GUESS

also this is on ao3 for easier archival

The nice thing about being entrapped into such an outlandish job such as capturing Death is that your clients hadn't paid you beforehand. They barely thought about reimbursement for your exploitation, really. They were more smug about the fact that they had leverage on you and eagerly sicced you on the personification of death.

But, while you went penniless from the encounter, you had no binding contract, magical or otherwise, which means that now that you have no obligation to do anything for them, you can sail halfway across the ocean with them none the wiser.

Duloc used to be one of the biggest kingdoms this side of the hemisphere. Ever since its ruler's untimely demise, however (eaten by a dragon, or so the rumors say), the resulting power vacuum had thrown the whole place into chaos with lesser aristocracy staking claims here and there, lobbying assassinations at each other while everyone else tried to stay out of the way.

But it's been years since Lord Farquaad took the slip n' slide down a giant lizard's throat. The kingdom has mostly stabilized, with sovereign villages here and there, while the fighting mostly took place on aristocratic lands. And where there's a semi-safe village and a shitton of espionage, there's an open job market for people like you.

You find yourself the cheapest inn available, ditch your usual all-black attire for locally-made clothes (a lot harder to track where you're from when your stuff's locally sourced - you are not getting compromised by a shirt tag), and start hitting the seediest bars you can find. In a land with this much unrest, there's plenty.

Predictably, you're not the only mercenary on the hunt for a job. Duloc's mostly merc country now, and the barmaid helpfully tells you where to frequent and who to talk to. There are even formal guilds here, though until you get a better feel for the land and the political climate, you think you'll go solo.

Your first few weeks aren't too bad. There's jobs from big wigs and commoners alike - from farmers needing wolves chased off their property to jealous lovers with too much money putting a hit on some poor schmuck. The most challenging thing you have to do is going to the mountains to bring a pair of brothers home after their camping trip goes awry, and their worried family puts a job out to find them when they don't come home. Turns out they got scared by some deer and ran deeper into the woods, getting lost in the process.

It's nothing you're not used to. At least no one's given you an assassination job, but you're new to town. Everyone's still getting a feel for your presence too - par for the course.

Three months into your stay in Poisonapple, Duloc, a hysterical parent barges into your new favorite bar, already drunk out of his mind and begging people to help him. Muffet, the barmaid, winces and mutters, "He's still at it?"

"He's done this before?" you ask.

"He was here yesterday," she says. "Poor Elrick's gotten tangled up with some rich family up north. I heard they got him tricked into pricking his finger on a cursed spindle."

"Oooh." You suck in a breath through your teeth. "True love's kiss not work out?"

"If his love even knows what's happened to him." Muffet shakes her head. "His father's been asking people to find some way to undo it, but - " She looks around, then leans closer as she whispers. "You ask me, I think Elrick's love's been locked away in some tall tower to keep 'er away from trouble. Weeks' worth of journey and the boy'll be bones by the time anyone comes back."

"Royal types do tend to do that, don't they?" you mutter. "Thought that solution fell out of popularity after Fairy Godmother herself kicked the bubble."

"Eh, where there's a vacancy in the market, there's a thousand other people waiting to fill it," Muffet says. "Competitors just had to take over the niche."

"Yikes." You knock back your drink, turning around in your seat to watch the poor old man plead, hands wringing as he begs for someone, anyone, to save his son.

You'd give it a shot, but like Muffet said, intel gathering would take days alone. The human body isn't designed to be unconscious with no food or water for that long. You don't even know how long Elrick's been knocked out, how long he has left.

"Can't they get someone else to do a counterspell?" you ask Muffet. "Like Sleeping Beauty?"

"Fae are hard to find around these parts. Witches too. Lord Farquaad chased everyone magical off the land a few years ago and very few have decided to come back since. The constant fighting between them aristocrats ain't helping."

"Yeah," you say. "Guess it'd be easier to find a witch and buy time than getting that true love's kiss, though."

Elrick's father suddenly turns to you. You freeze, and watch in horror as the man begins to stumble towards you.

"You - you know how to help my son?" he asks. "Please - "

"Uhhhh." You turn to Muffet, who wipes down the counter and dutifully keeps her gaze away, minding her own business. You're all for minding your own business, encourage it in fact, but come on. Traitor.

"Please," the old man says. "He's only sixteen - "

Fuck. Of course he is. Or course it has to be some young fucking kid.

"I don't really know, I was just…throwing ideas out," you say, tugging on the collar of your shirt. "See what stuck."

"B-but you're a witch, aren't you?" The old man eyes the red of your cloak, a new piece you'd gotten to replace your older one. While people in Duloc dressed much more colorfully than from your old town, the colors you now don make it so easy to identify you.

People know what your look like because they've been keeping an eye on you. You have a red cloak. You have two guns holstered on your belt at all times. You have a spellbook you carry in a satchel everywhere.

"I'm not very good at it," you admit.

"At least try."

"I could make it worse. I don't know how to use magic," you say. "Is it really worth the risk?"

The old man pauses, his brows furrowing, before he nods. "Anything," he says. "I just need someone to help."

"Look," you say. "Messing around with magic I barely know is a recipe for disaster. If I mess up, I'm not just gonna be trying to break a curse, I'm gonna have to drag your son back from the jaws of death. Does that sound any better?"

"Then just drag him back, witch," the old man insists. "Rally against death if you have to."

Your eye twitches. This is why you hate talking to people. This is why all your work is through written correspondence and why you talk sparsely. People always forget to suggest and go straight for commands. Where are the manners?

You turn around, mouth clamped shut, tapping a nail against the grain of the counter while the old man shouts behind you. A few people later come to drag him out.

You ask Muffet for another drink with the biggest glass she has. She gives you a raised eyebrow as she slides one twice the size of your forearm at you.

Whatever. You need to get a little reckless, burn off some energy. It's fine. Just as long as the person you're now supposed to rally against doesn't show -

"That could have gone better."

Son of a bitch.

You slam the glass onto the counter a little harder than you should. In the corner of your eye, Death flashes a smile.

"What can I do for you this evening, señor?" you ask, fingers twitching.

"What was your last command? Rally against Death?" He turns and leans am elbow on the counter, resting his face on one paw. "How are you gonna do that, peque?"

"I am trying - " your hands itch. " - not to."

"Can you actually fight your curse?" he asks.

You resist the urge to bang your head against the counter. As much as you're trying to control yourself, he's not making it easy when every word that comes out of his mouth makes you want to maul him.

He snickers. Your nails scratch against the grain of the counter as you turn back to him.

"Oh? Something's happening." Death leans over, hunching down to your height so you're nearly nose-to-snout, red eyes tracking every twitch and tic of your face. "What are you gonna do, peque? Bite me?"

You bite him.

"Son of a bitch!"

In your defense, he'd suggested it, and he was the one who got the brilliant idea of sticking his nose within biting range. You get a mouthful of freezing fur and snout, and then he's pulling you off of him like a leech. You snarl, grabbing fistfuls of silver fur to hold on, but he's much stronger - and he pulls you off with a comical pop!

He punts you across the room. You tuck your knees in and roll, landing on your hands and feet. "What the fuck is wrong with you? Mierda!"

You spit out the fur in your mouth - it tastes like ice chips for whatever reason. What the hell. "Hey, you asked for it. Gift of obedience, remember?"

You stand and watch him actually pause and consider it, before he glares, remembering he'd phrased it as a question and not a command. He reaches up to rub his snout.

"You're lucky you've got a while to go." He glances over your head. "Otherwise, I'd make you regret that."

"Hey, I was told to rally against Death. Can't hold that against me, can you?" One of your hands is already itching towards your gun. You look to your hip in distaste, your fingers twitching again.

"Don't."

Despite how annoying he is, you visibly sag with relief, sighing as the uncomfortable urge to just maim disappears. Your hand drops. You straighten and smooth out your cloak.

"That's way better," you mutter.

When you turn back to Death, he has his head tilted, his now-lopsided hood revealing the end of an ear. That's actually kinda cute, if he was, you know, not built like a brick shithouse and has rows of needles in his mouth.

"What?" you ask.

"I could just tell you never to attack me again," he says. Your hackles raise. "But that'd be less funny."

You raise an eyebrow. "What am I, entertainment TV?"

He snickers.

"Asshole."

"Brat."

You sneer, before marching back to the counter to drop a few pieces of silver onto it. You have no idea where Muffet's gone. Out back for a smoke break, probably, since you were the only customer left by the time Death showed up.

"Might wanna keep away from these parts, old man. Some of the folk up north are getting restless and desperate," you say. "My previous clients weren't the first people to think about chaining Death. There's always people who want more power."

"I know, peque. I've been here longer than you," he says with a chuckle. "You keep your eye on not getting turned into a dance monkey again."

You turn and flip him off. He laughs, and the candles in the room flicker, bathing everything in darkness for a second.

When the lights steady, he's gone.

#puss in boots death x reader #puss in boots x reader #muerte x reader #puss in boots the last wish #fic #fanfiction

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magicalyaku · 1 year ago

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Ok ok, let's get back on track. Work was draining these past weeks, but I'm on vacation now, so time to catch up! June was the month of the library books. I put a bunch on hold in April and May and they all came in at the same time. And after up to 10 weeks of waiting I was not about to push a single one back further, so I had to work a bit there. 8D Also, according to my list I've read 51 books in the first 6 months of the year. I seem to remember wanting to read less this year? Yeah. Not going well.

Gwen & Art are Not in Love (Lex Croucher): I read it in the very first days of June, which was basically an eternity ago, so my memory is a bit wonky. I do remember I had lots of fun! It was funny and sweet with a solid story and serious times when needed, nice characters, good adventure. The female lead did not get on my nerves! There was a cat! And a girl with a (legendary) sword! I think, though, it's a bit unfair that both boys ended up with permanent bodily harm while the girls got away scratchfree … Go read it!!

Thief in the Night (KJ Charles): I didn't know anything about this other than the summary when I put it on my waitlist in the library. After 10 weeks it finally came in and my first thought was "Is it broken?!" because it's only about 100 pages! It is a full story, mind you, I was just so suprised by it (and because I waited for so long!). It's a companion story to The Gentle Art of Fortune Hunting, featuring the brother of the protagonists of that one. It's pretty cute. Super short, but just the right length for a simple story. We can have a simple story once in a while. I had a good time reading this.

The Gentle Art of Fortune Hunting (KJ Charles): I borrowed this right after Thief in the Night. This is a full-length novel, so it has a lot more time to dive into characters and intricacies. It's nice. Like not groundbreaking, but very enjoyable. There's this thing about (pseudo-historic) British aristocracy that just calls for mocking them. I liked a lot how the climax and ending played out!

Flowerheart (Catherine Bakewell): Now this was another difficult book for me. I thought with time I'd get a little more chill with YA fantasy heroines. Seems I'm not there yet. The heroine here has these whiny self-pitying phases that really annoyed me. She's like "Oh maybe he never liked me in the first place" just because the guy didn't want her help at one thing. But: 1) He was her very close childhood friend, that was not a lie. 2) She has like one day of training in and can't control her magic, so her help would be … probably no help at all. And 3) when he told her before that he needs her on the weekends she said no, she can't … So why is she getting upset?! I hate characters like this. /D But thankfully, this is only half of the time, the other half she's pretty ok (the guy as well) and I actually found myself liking the book. The romance is acceptable and it does have some nice imagery going on with all the flower magic and stuff.

Sounds Fake But Okay (Sarah Costello & Kayla Kaszyca): My one non-fiction book of the year. :D It's about seeing the world from the perspectives of a_spec people. Like taking apart all that amatonormativity and all these ideas about romance and family and stuff that most of our world sees as right and normal. So it's not just a "let me tell you what aromanticism and asexuality are"-book but dives a bit deeper. I found it insightful. I think, both a_spec and allo people can take something away from reading this. Challenging our social constructs in thought at least can't hurt after all. Regarding the ebook library edition I read I didn't quite like the layout as the incorporated community quotes where not well marked and I stumbled over them a few times before realising it's another quote. That's probably no issue in the paper version though. I also struggled to tell the authors Sarah and Kayla apart. They introduce themselves and their stories in the beginning but I immediately jumbled them up ...

Captive Prince Trilogy (C.S. Pacat): I borrowed the English edition from the library … and didn't want to return it! Which is stupid because I own the German version in paper. But that kinda sums up how I feel about these books. Captive Prince was not the very first gay fantasy book I read almost two years ago but the first one I liked. (The actual first was Rowan & Ash by Christian Händel which had a terribly selfish love interest and shied away from all the important conflict. (And yeah, long before that I did read The Raven Cycle but I picked that one up for the Ley lines and the no-kiss-promise. The gay was just a pleasant surprise, so I don't count it.)) Which is funny, because especially the beginning is so filthy! I remember being quite put off by this the first time around, but apparently it was intriguing enough to continue reading. I like the incredible slow-burn of Damen's and Laurent's relationship. The slow building of trust in a surrounding where trust is so rare. How shit happens between them and they have to sort it out on page before progressing. How you only catch glimpes of Laurent's true self for a long time. I like it when authors feel smart through their writing and writing Laurent's and the Regent's intrigues and all the different settings with war strategies etc. sure does feel smart to me. I like the slow-burn in stories as well when things start at some point and only get important much later and all weaves together beautifully. It's so rewarding. Look, where we started - look, how far we've come! Hah. u3u

Riley Weaver Needs a Date for the Gaybutante Society (Jason June): For the end of the month I went for something light and funny. Of all the authors I read last year F.T. Lukens and Jason June stuck with me the most. Lukens for the cozy charming fantasy and June for the slightly silly noisy onea. Riley Weaver is no exception to that. It does have a serious undertone and message, though, but due to the framework of the story it manages to never feel dull or preachy.

I also tried to read Dragonfall by L.R. Lam, but gave up after just 50 pages. I can't even say if it's good or bad, because I don't know. I couldn't stand the viewpoints. Like, there's three people. The first one is a 1st person narrator, who refers to the second person as You, but in the narration, not dialogue! That put me off so much. It was so … icky! The second person narrates 1st person as well. If there's another "you" I don't know because I didn't make it to the point where they meet for real. And then the third person comes along and … it's 3rd person?! And I screamed! God, I hate that. I mean, it can work and I have read books that I like with inconsistent viewpoints but there was nothing here for which I was willing to endure. To be fair, I don't like dragons in the first place, so maybe we never were a good match from the start. :'D

That's it for June!

#yaku reads #books #bookblr #lgbtq books #queer books #queer lit #kj charles #the gentle art of fortune hunting #thief in the night #cs pacat #captive prince #riley weaver needs a date #gwen and art are not in love #flowerheart #sounds fake but okay #dragonfall

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greenerteacups · 6 months ago

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hello! huge fan of lionheart and a fellow hobbyist writer here. i have a possibly strange question...

in particular, i love the way you write the wizarding aristocracy/pureblood politics. narcissa in particular is an enchantingly complex and charismatic character who wears many hats in both society and in draco's life, with enough intelligence and knowledge of the arts in her repertoire to keep her tongue sharp in battles of wit. but she is refined and there are so many layers to her tact, as you brilliantly put in another ask.

my question is... how do you get into her head? both personality-wise, and in the grounded, evidenced worldbuilding that created her? have you engaged with many period pieces or done independent research about high society? or is it nothing so formal? i have always wanted to write a character like her but have no idea how to approach her. i have never written anything like her, and your work with her is so delightful that i want to try.

thank you!

Thank you kindly! This is so lovely. I think writing good character is a careful balance between fidelity to your sources — research, rules, history, etc. — and a certain recklessness with the facts. No person ever behaves perfectly like "The" Edwardian Gentlewoman — she's a social model! In fact, most people would have had complicated relationships to the model and would have broken with it in whatever ways they justified (or failed to justify) to themselves and others. So for any given worldbuilding, character is a tension between how much they accept what the world does to them and how much they lean against it.

When it comes to creating the worldbuilding itself, it's a combination of research, indulgence, and Rule of Cool. These are the 3 magic sauces for fantasy worlds. There's a lot of grounded and interesting stuff you can do by modeling your world off of reality, but there's also a lot of fascinating and creative directions you can take once you remove the blinders of fidelity to reality (i.e. with Magic!). Essentially, I started by paring down what we know about the Blacks — the bones of the story according to canon, as it were — and then trying to extrapolate backwards a world that would create them. That way, the worldbuilding is in service to the story, not vice versa. And it turns out that some of those rules can make other characters behave in interesting ways, so there's a reciprocal relationship there, as well.

#greenteacup asks #<3

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ambiguouspuzuma · 8 months ago

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Tempers fugit

She was nose-deep in a book when Tephan sauntered into her study, as self-absorbed as ever, all misplaced confidence and mislaid tact. There was no knock: he simply strolled through the door like he owned the place. Which, in fairness, he did. He and his brother had inherited the whole Duchy on the passing on their aunt, from the throne room to the quarters where Sanje slept. In a way, they'd also inherited her.

"What is it, Teran?" Sanje lowered her book, A Field Guide to Mundane Fungi and Their Uses, which didn't have nearly enough pictures for its content. She was used to these interruptions, but that only meant she'd long since burned through her reserves of patience.

"Woah, is that any way to greet your Duke?" He protested in mock offence. Sanje wasn't sure that any insult could actually penetrate his hide of puffed-up adoration, but that hadn't stopped her from trying. "After he's come all this way to see you?"

"Forgive me, my Duke," she said, with as much disdain as she dared. The late Lady Jaside had truly been her Duchess - the sort of woman she'd been proud to serve. Her nephews, Tephan and Kase, were her Dukes in title only. "But come all this way to see me for what?"

"Hey, we'll come to that. There's no great hurry." He looked around the bookshelves, as if deliberately hoping to find a distraction, some reason to waste even more of her time. "Pretty flowers, by the way. How do you keep them all alive? The ones we get wither straight away."

"I don't," she admitted, closing the book and letting Tephan have the floor. This might go more quickly if she let him work this tangent out of his system. "They die, but then I help them remember what living flowers feel like. All the ingredients are still there, you see; they've just forgotten the recipe."

"Oh that," Tephan said dismissively, as if magical intervention was easier than just watering them every now and again. "Necromancer stuff."

"Not necromancer stuff. Magic."

It was a common bugbear. Since the age of Chronos, Father Time with Cronus's scythe, the Grim Reaper, people had loved to conflate time and death. But as a tempomancer, she could only reap what had already been sown. She worked not with death, but with life; restoring wilted flowers to full bloom, reminding wounds when they were whole, and reversing the ageing of her own body, so that young men like Tephan could continue to treat her with such flagrant disrespect.

"Magic is all about memory," she explained, for the dozenth time, and not blind to the irony. "Reminding mountains of when they were molten, or rivers of a time they took a different course. Yes, I can remind a corpse of its ability to move, but I could equally return living limbs to the impotence of the womb."

"So it's like... localised time travel."

"If it helps you to think of it that way." That was the best she was going to get. "Why are you here, Tephan?"

The Ugly Dukeling shifted under her glare, and turned back to inspect the shelves. "Kase needs you at the stables."

"Kase knows where to find me, just as you unfortunately do."

"That's why I'm here. He sent me to fetch you."

"Errand boy to the real Duke, is it?" Sanje tried to sow discord at every opportunity. If could get them bickering between each other, the theory went, they would spend less time ganging up on her. "Is that how power sharing works? He does the ruling, you do the dishes?"

It was such a shame. Their aunt had been a good Duchess, before the wasting sickness took hold. Sanje almost wished that she'd saved her: at the time she'd vowed not to meddle with a ruler's old age, preserving another unnatural life well into the centuries, thinking only evil could come of that. But bad things had come anyway. She'd left herself cursed to live through successive generations of up-jumped aristocracy, each less bearable than the last.

Lady Jaside had died, and her nephews had been made joint Dukes of Rhúnwald, joint Protectors of the Mark, and the joint banes of Sanje's life. They had formed an uneasy coalition: the two brothers had a friction of their own, and they'd inherited their aunt's previous counsellors, including Sanje's seat at that table. The old guard were losing that fight. The numbers seemed to dwindle by the week, having been of a similar age to their Duchess, and she wasn't looking forward to babysitting on her own.

"No way. He's just busy."

"And what's so urgent that he couldn't come himself?"

"Hang on, let me think."

"You don't know?" Sanje certainly wouldn't be breaking her vow for them. The moment they took even the slightest sparring injury, requiring muscle to remember a life before the swords, she resolved to be nowhere to be found. She'd restrained herself from regicide, which would also be a worrying precedent, but she wouldn't stand in nature's way. She might even puppet Tephan's corpse, until he learnt what necromancy was.

"No, I did, of course I did. I've just momentarily forgotten." He continued to look around the shelves, as if something there might job his memory. "Everybody does that, right? You walk into a room, and can't remember why you're in there? It's funny, just a moment ago it was on the tip of my tongue..."

"I'll see what I can do," Sanje said.

"Wait-"

But she was all out of patience. Sanje froze the rest of him into place, and watched the rapid convulsion of his lips with interest, trying to gauge where they would land. Tempomancy wasn't an exact art. Memory was measured in moments, not minutes - and some were more momentous than others. In this case she needed his mouth to remember its last conversation, in the hope it would be more enlightening than their current one.

"...a threat to our rule," it was saying, as she let it land. Too far. Or not far enough, she wondered. That excerpt seemed worth hearing the start of.

"Magic will always be a threat to our rule."

Intrigue turned into full attention. Sanje stood up, focusing as she pushed him just a few more moments back into the past.

"I'll lure the necromancer, make up some pretence for her to come rushing into the trap. It's about time we docked her claws. You're absolutely right. As long as we allow it to continue, magic will always be a threat to our rule."

She could only listen to one side of the conversation, and imagine Kase's equally dreadful voice in response. But it was enough to tell her everything she needed to know. Sanje could recognise a snake from front or back: she knew the clang of a headsman's axe, without waiting to hear its echo.

She brought Tephan's lips forward again, then back, then forward, until they were roughly back where he'd left them. "Funny, just a moment ago it was on the tip of my tongue."

"Well, take your time," she said instead, replacing her book for one on defensive spells. Sometimes her own memory needed to be refreshed.

"Oh, that's it," he said, watching her return the volume on fungi. "There's something the gardener thinks might be magical. Some sort of toadstool, I think. You need to come and look at it."

"Of course," Sanje agreed, for once the picture of obedience. "Please, lead the way. I'll be right behind you."

#writing #short story #writeblr #creative writing #original fiction

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goblins-riddles-or-frocks · 9 months ago

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What do you think the Darkling's rule would have been like had he won or Alina had joined him to save her friends? I mean laws he would abolish, laws he would enforce, his tax policy, his crime management (talk about any of these that you find intersting/would want to talk about).

-discussgrishaverse

This is something I’ve talked about before a little bit. I think it’s difficult to speculate about with how thin the worldbuilding is, because like what are the existing laws and policies? He’s in power for like a book and a half, how are things different??? Can the average person feel a change in their lives at all?? It’s unclear!

Anyway adding onto some of the ideas in the other post, I think his immediate game plan upon taking power would probably be to declare martial law. If he can get his hands on the Lantsovs (whoever in the family is still alive) then they’re being imprisoned and publicly tried and executed for treason. Insert requisite propaganda about how they’ve neglected the nation and only ever acted in their own self interest. If this is after S&S then the Apparat would be slated to follow suit, which in reality, I think he’s slippery enough and has enough zealous followers everywhere that he’d manage to escape the country.

Which would also make the Darkling even angrier at the church lol. Unclear *how* the Ravkan church works, the Apparat seems to be equal parts Rasputin, equal parts the Russian Patriarch. He’s also introduced simply as the king’s spiritual advisor but “the Apparat” is used like a title— though it’s one he seems to keep even after being disgraced. The word “Apparat” itself comes from Apparatchik, but in English it translates literally to “an organization or existing power structure, esp. a political one” so like shdgf there’s an organization. But also they don’t act like there’s anything particularly organized about the religion. Sigh. Whatever. But let’s assume he’s head of the church ig? And his actions would probably reflect on it as an institution. Anyway, all this to say, I could see the Darkling going French Revolution on the clergy afterwards tbqh. Reform the church, break up its current structure and integrate it into his new government. And requiring all priests to swear an oath to the state, and to adhere to particular standards (preaching state sanctioned propaganda) or leave the country/be arrested.

I already talked about generally thinking that he’d likely seize any wealth from the nobility, enact very strict sumptuary laws, and raise taxes on imports. (Ravka apparently being behind every other country in advancement would make a mercantilist strategy not particularly effective, but like. he’d try. lol)

At face value he seems to think he’s like a supporter of the proletariat, salt of the earth, etc etc despite being fully out of touch, living in luxury, and having transformed the second army into an upper class. So I could see him outright just abolishing the aristocracy tbqh and moving the country outright into a military state vs the temporary martial law.

Re: taxes lolll talking about fantasy taxes. But also like he is so so militantly against technological advancement because of how it threatens Grisha power. He would tax any sort of technological or industrial development to hell and back. I could also see him attempting to incentivize a more agrarian model for civilians a) because he’s old and would generally be pushing a return to things he might find more familiar b) in attempts to make the country more self sufficient. The less reliance on foreign goods the better, isolationism ftw, all that stuff.

I honestly can’t decide if he’d lean into Grisha manufacturing and like pseudo industrialization via magic. Because there’s very much the vibe that Grisha power is reserved for use in the army basically and pretty much only afforded to Grisha soldiers. Like it doesn’t appear that they’re manufacturing stuff and like selling it to the average person? The nobility, at least at court, seem to use Grisha power frivolously, but we also know that the Darkling hates this and thinks it’s a waste. So. I think he might actually overlook any like particularly Grisha made goods that might be produced at a large scale and used within Ravka or even exported. At least initially, if he’s in power for long enough I think he might change his mind tbqh. Where with the advent of like parem, the sheer number of indentured in Kerch, and the super soldiers in Shu Han etc, Ravka no longer seems to have a monopoly on Grisha power. And he might be interested in fostering that.

Anyway so it’s super unclear how crime is managed in Ravka? They mention Tsibeya as a faux Siberia though, so I’m assuming exile there is a common practice. Capital punishment was pretty rare in Tsarist Russia? If we’re assuming that’s also the case in Ravka, then lol he sure is bringing that back 😬

#this feels silly to speculate on but fantasy worldbuilding is fun so #shadow and bone #grishaverse #i ramble sometimes #all the bendy punctuations #a mysterious stranger has appeared

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jawsthatbiteandclawsthatcatch · 10 months ago

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LET ME KNOW WHEN YOU PUBLISH CARRIGAN STUFF. I WANT TO READ THE CARRIGAN STUFF.

OH GOD OK AUAUGHGHH

Actually. I think you asked me for a summary of her Deal several months ago. And, uh, I know it's taken forever, but here you go!

…This will get a bit complicated, but I'll start with the original incarnation.

Carrigan Grimm is, mechanically, a lv 14 pathfinder 2e forensic medicine investigator with the medic archetype + a smattering of rogue / thaumaturge. So, she's extremely good at healing, knowing things, investigating, sneaking, and finding weak points. Overall, she is "a prickly perfectionist with self-loathing issues up to her eyeballs. She's convinced that no one will like her, so she pushes them away to preempt the rejection. She loves the thrill of a medical challenge or the hunt for a monster, and has some distinct mad scientist tendencies, but they're more or less held in check by a deep sense of decency." (thanks, rp partner!)

Carrigan grew up in a city not-so-secretly ruled by aristocratic vampires, and was a normal human working in forensic science, specializing in autopsies. A body she was working on turned out to be not fully dead yet -- unbeknownst to her, he was in the process of becoming a vampire -- and his bite somehow turned her into a dhampir. After frantically trying to reverse it by self-amputating the fingers that were wounded in the attack, she had to face that she had become a dhampir permanently, and was closer than ever to the creatures that she loathed. She spent the next several years isolating herself, getting by as a back-alley doctor in the city's slums and drowning in self-hatred, until the day when an acquaintance asked her to look into the disappearance of a friend.

(begin campaign 1.)

Within a few months, she had honed her skills as a combat medic, killed a lot of bogeys, saved all the children of her city, and lost a close friend. She had also joined a secret order of vampire hunters called Lantern Hunters, who fight with magically summoned lantern-shaped flails that are specially suited to destroying vampires.

Carrigan didn't hate the work, and didn't hate the people she was working with, either. So, after the mission, she kept looking for new challenges and new mysteries to solve, new people to help -- anything to keep her moving.

(end campaign 1.)

Shortly after, the country was plunged into a civil war. She fought alongside the Lantern Hunters, against her homeland, at first, but got fed up with their reckless tactics and left to go monster hunting in the countryside with one of her companions for the next several years. It ended up being for the best, because the tide of the war eventually turned, and the Lantern Hunters themselves were hunted into near extinction.

(begin campaign 2.)

Fifteen years after her original mission, she was given a new one: find a dangerous artifact before it fell into the wrong hands. She spent months in enemy territory, found the artifact, had the artifact stolen by someone she thought of as a close friend, and ended up getting trapped in a city undergoing a diabolic invasion, where she and her companions spearheaded its liberation. For their deeds, they were given the opportunity to participate in the peace talks that ended the civil war, and offered roles on the Council that would replace the vampire aristocracy. Of the three, only Carrigan accepted, committing to spend two years in office.

(end campaign 2.)

At this point, she made the very difficult decision to leave the Lantern Hunters. Although they had given her purpose at a time in her life when she truly needed it, she knew that her new high-profile job could put the remaining members in significant danger, and, well… she no longer truly agreed with their ideology that all vampires deserved to be destroyed because they're vampires. Most of the vampires she'd met had been awful, wretched creatures that deserved to die, true -- but it was because of who they were as people. Vampirism had just given them the opportunity to become the monsters they had always wanted to be.

Close to the end of her council term, she was summoned by a mysterious figure for an unexpected mission -- investigate some small-town disappearances and deal with the malevolent force causing them. She was expecting familiar faces when she went to meet her companions, but there was an unexpected newcomer, sent by one of her fellow council members -- Victor, a young vampire who… shockingly, still seemed to have somewhat of a conscience, and a personality rather than a god complex.

She found him fascinating.

(In the meta, we decided to run a Halloween one-shot preview for the 3rd campaign featuring these characters, and invited another player to join us. They brought Victor, and what was planned to be a one-shot turned into a three-parter with a 12k word text rp thread.)

An explanation of Victor will come in another post.

After that mission, Carrigan and Victor were uncertain they would get to work together again, but they crossed paths and got to know each other enough that when the mysterious figure that had caused them to meet in the first place sent out a new summons for an important mission, he invited Victor directly, on the condition that Carrigan would share the blame for any potential problems arising from his involvement.

Meta story short, from there the game went on a ~ten-month hiatus where we switched campaigns to a prewritten adventure with different characters. Victor's player and I were desperate to keep RPing with these two dorks, but couldn't without making things unfair for the other players in the game.

So, we decided to switch to an alternate universe.

Victor started as the player character in my rp partner's playthrough of Vampire the Masquerade: Bloodlines, which they had a lot of fic for. I converted Carrigan (Alexandria) Grimm into a character that would fit in that world.

Alex Carrigan is a forensic pathologist from London who had, a couple months prior to the start of the rp, been attacked by what she was pretty sure was a vampire -- but all the evidence of the attack had disappeared, leaving her to appear completely delusional as she desperately tried to convey that he was still out there and still a danger to people. She lost two fingers and spent a month being involuntarily hospitalized for her "delusions," eventually starting to wonder if the attack may not have happened as she remembered it. Possibly worst of all, throughout the experience, she received no support from any of her former colleagues or the people she thought were her friends. So, the moment she was free, she bought a plane ticket for Los Angeles, with the intent of not looking back for as long as she could manage.

A month later, walking to the bar, she found a broken, bleeding body lying in an alleyway, and begrudgingly decided to take him home and patch him up as best she could, rather than potentially bankrupting him by calling an ambulance. Within a few minutes, though, his heart stopped -- but he didn't lose consciousness or seem at all concerned when she brought it up.

And that was how she met Victor and begrudgingly joined the Masquerade.

In the months since, they've gotten to know each other, fought fleshwarp monsters in the sewers together, defeated a powerful fleshcrafting vampire, and become best friends.

Alex has gotten a (highly illegal) job at a shady clinic, unwillingly become a ghoul (a semi-thralled superhuman who drank a vampire's blood), adopted a cat, and lost her appendix.

It means everything to Victor that he finally has a friend, and he's terrified of losing her. He has also started working at a local theatre and is starting to get to know his new coworkers. Surely nothing weird or supernatural will happen with them.

#for marielle #carrigan tag #victor tag #it them #here's the thing i've been vagueblogging about for months

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