#magic is. a topic i will return to quite a few times i think

[homestuckreplay]

A Hole in the ACE: Anderson, Caveney, Egbert

[This is a deep dive into the pages of Harry Anderson: Wise Guy by Mike Caveney, seen on Homestuck pages 629-630, and its role in the story. About 2.5k words, somehow. A transcript of these pages can be found here.]

=> Read book. Be the wise guy.

Harry Anderson, born in 1952, was a real magician and comedian who achieved mainstream television success in the 1980s and 90s with starring roles in sitcoms and appearances on Saturday Night Live. A street magician since his youth, he continued to tour and perform magic shows well into the 2000s, and opened both a magic shop and a nightclub in New Orleans with his second wife. Wise Guy is the name of a one-man show he presented in his own nightclub beginning in 2005, although he may have used the phrase earlier.

Mike Caveney, born in 1950, has similarly been a magic enthusiast since childhood. As well as performing, he has written over 50 books about magic and its history, including Magic, 1400s-1950s (2009) and of course Harry Anderson: Wise Guy (1993). This is a real book documenting the secrets behind Anderson’s most famous tricks, interspersed with personal anecdotes. John Egbert is lucky to own this – it’s currently out of print, and secondhand editions sell for over $100.

In my attempts to find an online copy of Wise Guy, I found a PDF that billed itself as the book’s introduction, but quickly devolved into a plot summary of Stephen King’s IT. While clearly not the actual introduction, I later learned that Anderson played Richie Tozier in the 1990 television adaptation of IT, which at least explains the connection.

Unfortunately, very little of Wise Guy’s text is available online. One excerpt survives, and accompanies several online publishers’ listings for the book – for example, here. This excerpt describes Harry’s trick ‘The Finger Chopper,’ with his early-career assistant who happened to be missing half a finger. I am almost certain that Andrew Hussie doesn’t own a copy of this book, but that they found this real excerpt, and used it to write their own entirely fake pages for Homestuck.

Some specific phrases appear in both the real excerpt and the Homestuck pages: ‘Here is a perfect example of how Harry could…’ ‘the close up room at the Magic Castle’ and even the full paragraph ‘[he] had one of those little wooden finger choppers that Micky Hades used to sell. The kind where the blade could be removed and clearly shown. It was a very convincing little guillotine that did not look like a novelty store toy. Harry would get a guy to examine the chopper and then cut a cigarette in half. Then he held the guy’s hand up and told this silly story.’

The Magic Castle is a famous performance venue that Anderson really performed at, however it's located in Los Angeles, not New Orleans as the Homestuck version suggests.. Micky Hades is another magician 25 years Anderson and Caveney’s senior, best known for writing and publishing books and magazines on magic. An unverified primary source says that he invented the Finger Chopper while working deep underground in the freezing cold Yellowknife gold mines, which is definitely cool if true.

The rest of what's in Homestuck is invented. In Caveney’s book, Anderson’s trick is successful, no audience members are harmed, and Anderson is presented as a charismatic entertainer in control of the crowd. In Hussie’s version, Anderson’s trick goes horribly wrong, and is presented as overconfident, unpleasant, and ridiculous. There’s a flip back and forth from praising and criticizing Anderson, painting he and Caveney as jilted former business partners who maintain professional respect, or toxic ex-lovers who can’t let each other go.

Hussie also refers to a ‘two foot, six inch height differential’ between Anderson and Caveney, with Anderson implied as the shorter party. Anderson was 6’4”, and while I can’t find a source for Caveney’s height, I think it would have been well documented if Caveney was almost nine feet tall.

Hussie’s version states that once Anderson’s finger chopper trick was successful, he achieved ‘fame, fortune and the crowning position in the television judiciary.’ This refers to his starring role on the sitcom Night Court as Judge Harold T. ‘Harry’ Stone, a 34-year-old night court judge appointed to the bench when none of the other applicants were available to answer their phones. Harry’s methods in the show are unorthodox, including flipping a (secretly double-headed) coin to decide if a woman should go to jail, suggesting in 1984 that the three members of a love triangle try polyamory, and giving a man dressed as Santa information from two teenagers’ government records so that ‘Santa’ could trick the teens into believing in him.

I’d never heard of this show before reading Homestuck, and neither has Rose Lalonde, but John mentions it on p.636. The show appears fairly well received during its original run, winning eight Primetime Emmys, including four consecutive Best Supporting Actor wins for John Larroquette (who withdrew his name from the ballot for future years). I watched a few episodes before making this post and thought the pilot was really great, with subsequent episodes either not living up to its promises, or already feeling stale. It’s over-acted in a way that makes it feel older than its airdate, and definitely tracks as a cheesy thing for John Egbert to enjoy.

The other name mentioned in Hussie’s edition – Blind Willie ‘Buttermilk’ Stubbs – is not a real person, but a legendary jazz musician from Problem Sleuth. This is most likely a reference to the real 1900s blues musician Blind Willie McTell, or the Bob Dylan song of the same name. However, there’s an outside chance it could be another Stephen King connection, as he has a 1994 novella named Blind Willie.

The second trick described in Homestuck, ‘A Hole in the Ace,’ doesn’t appear to be a real Anderson trick. It’s not on this list of the book’s chapter titles, and while I have found evidence of Anderson tearing up cards as part of tricks, I couldn’t find anything about him punching holes. In general this second page is more artistic license and less connected to Anderson’s real life than the first. It seems like this hole-punch trick was invented by Hussie purely to give John the inspiration to advance his alchemy. Narratively this works really well, because John’s not somebody who would come to these ideas by careful thought, but it’s also not satisfying to have Rose always give him the answers.

We’ve seen another Harry Anderson property in John’s room – the fictional video game Call My Bluff, seen on the CD rack (p.31). Although Anderson never had a show named Call My Bluff, in 2000 he hosted an unsold pilot episode of What’s My Line? for Mark Goodson and Bill Todman. Goodson & Todman were famous for creating a variety of TV game shows, including 1965’s Call My Bluff. Is this a coincidence? I genuinely couldn’t tell you.

I really love what Hussie has done with this book. I’d say this qualifies as a transformative work – taking the real text and premise of Wise Guy and mixing it with established MSPA lore, mimicking Caveney’s original writing style while using it to paint a far more absurd picture of Anderson, using it to advance the plot while still feeling like this book could really exist, at least in the Homestuck universe. It shows how much work gets put into Homestuck, even while some plot elements (possibly even John’s decision to read the book) are decided by readers.

=> Read Colonel Sassacre’s text.

Wise Guy is only one of John’s two favorite books. The other of course is Colonel Sassacre’s Daunting Text of Magical Frivolity and Practical Japery, and we’ve now seen inside both. They’re fairly different overall. Sassacre’s is a lot more overwrought and soaked in Southern stereotypes, written like it’s trying to squeeze in as many old-timey Southern words as possible, while Wise Guy focuses on telling a story and creating a character. Both texts lean into some grosser imagery than Homestuck usually goes for, with Sassacre’s describing ‘wriggling regency of rubber bugs, plastic parasites, squirming serpents, pliable pests…’ and Wise Guy mentioning ‘a bloody sausage sized piece of a guy’.

The most direct link between the texts is the uncommon phrase ‘listless octoroon,’ which appears in both. Used in the mid to late 1800s, an octoroon was a social and sometimes legal word for somebody who was one-eighth Black. It’s an offensive term that definitely should not be used to describe a real person, and I don’t think it’s funny in fiction either. It reads like another example of ‘post-racial humor’ where Hussie, a white author, uses Blackness as a joke due to a mistaken belief that racism is a thing of the past. This isn’t the first time this specific brand of humor has appeared in Homestuck, and it’s worrying that it’s becoming a pattern.

Sassacre’s, the ‘family tome of humor’ passed down through Egbert generations, focuses on pranking friends and family members, taking those around you by surprise. Wise Guy, which appears to be John’s own interest, is about performing tricks for an audience – both descriptions of the trick and of the mannerisms surrounding the trick that make it successful, leaning into the draw of the professional magician and the cautionary tale of their failures.

Colonel Sassacre’s relevance to Homestuck has so far been as a physical object. It’s what killed Nanna in her human life, it’s been a heavy item in John’s sylladex that he’s used to set off smoke pellets and slay an imp, it was teased as a Tier 2 sprite prototype, and it was found hidden inside Dad’s safe. In contrast, Wise Guy’s relevance has been about the text inside the book, and John’s interpretation of that text.

Which of course makes me wonder about other books we’ve seen in the story. Data Structures for Assholes, the second book of John’s that’s about A-holes, is clearly written to be so over-the-top it becomes funny (like Sassacre’s) but is used for the same purpose as Wise Guy, teaching John a new game mechanic that helps him advance his own story. Other books we’ve seen but haven’t opened are The Fatherly Gent’s Shaving Almanac, found in Dad’s safe, and the writing journals Rose keeps under her bed. Finally, we’ve seen inside Rose’s Grimoire for Summoning the Zoologically Dubious, however as this book is written in the eldritch tongue, it’s hard to offer meaningful insights.

All of these books have been highlighted when they appear, and are more than just a spine among a bookshelf collection. My guess is that all of these will become relevant to the story at some point, whether as objects or as texts.

=> John: Punch card.

Wise Guy first appeared on p.8 of Homestuck, as part of the contents of John’s MAGIC CHEST (now and forever on the roof), which also contains a picture of Anderson stuck to the inside of the lid. John being an ‘aspiring AMATEUR MAGICIAN’ came up even earlier, on p.4. John claims to love this book, which is ‘one of [his] favorite books of all time’ (p.123), but in truth he only likes specific aspects of the book. In real life, Caveney had great respect for Anderson and wrote his book as a tribute, but this isn’t true in Homestuck – Caveney’s ‘ambivalent attitude toward your favorite magician in these anecdotes always struck [John] as a little weird,’ suggesting that John doesn’t enjoy criticism of his heroes and doesn’t want to engage with the more complex and emotional parts of the text.

John ‘mostly like[s] to look at the diagrams for all the cool tricks.’ Given his aspirations, it makes sense that he’d use it as a manual similar to Sassacre’s instead of a biography – but he’s not reading the book as the author intended. If he did, he’d like it less. In most webcomics, any text is contained within the panels themselves, and any blocks of text below are commentary that isn’t necessary to enjoy the joke or story. MSPA is fairly unique in having narrative text that’s story critical, and I wonder if there are some Homestuck readers who just look at the pictures and think the text is ‘weird’ or extraneous. John’s method of reading Wise Guy fits with the fact that he flits from one thing to another, giving up quickly when something is too much effort, whether that’s hole punching through several cards at once or reading stories that are critical of his hero and hard to understand – but it could also be meta-commentary on readers of Homestuck.

John’s relationship to magic, both past and present, is something I’d really like to see explored in more depth. Now that he has unlimited captchalogue cards and engages with them as physical objects, the possibilities for card tricks are off the charts – and the reasons John likes magic aren't yet known. A magician is a showman, somebody who surprises and delights an audience, but can only do this by concealing much of what they’re doing. A magician has to be a master of their craft and in control of the situation both socially and technically. Magic is believed to be among the oldest performing arts, and while magicians are often thought to be secretive about their tricks, Wise Guy is just one of a huge number of books containing detailed instructions for magic.

John's not usually the character we'd expect to want an air of mystery around himself, but he often tries to hide his emotions, with various degrees of success. He also likes the idea of coding, which is a type of magic - producing an effect (a website) while concealing the methods (lines of code) that went into it. There's not much he's good at yet, but he has the manual dexterity to play piano well, which could translate into sleight of hand tricks. I can see why, as someone who struggles with basically everything, John likes the idea of having a high degree of mastery over something and of making it look effortless. I also see how someone who feels like they're always performing their role in the world, instead of actually embodying it, would gravitate towards being another kind of performer. However, that's just some initial instincts, and as I keep reading and re-reading I'll be on the lookout for more connections between John and stage magic.

Additionally, John now has access to real and powerful magic via alchemy. This is magic that can’t fully be explained by sleight of hand and diagrams in a book, and it’s magic that can provide a shortcut to achieving goals, conjuration instead of illusion. Now that John has this power, will he become disillusioned with the artifice of practical magic, or will he lean into it even harder? Will there continue to be connections between alchemy and the tricks John already knows? Instead of always putting that bunny back in the box, will he start pulling that bunny out of the hat?

Finally, it is surprising that John’s never talked to Rose about Harry Anderson before. Given the depths of his interest, I’d expect it to have come up, but Rose is clueless. When explaining who he is, John says ‘EB: he's awesome EB: that's really all there is to say on the matter!’ which directly calls back to what Dave has said about puppets on p.537. In Dave’s case, he’s trying to convince himself he thinks this, but it’s clear he actually doesn’t. Is it possible that deep down, John actually doesn’t like Harry Anderson? Is magic too close to Egbert family traditions of clowning for John to really feel good exploring it? Is John’s greatest trick of all convincing us that he loves magic?

[itacats]

Rain of Shadows

FT: Simon x gn!reader

Warnings: Themes of emotional vulnerability and isolation, Discussions of past trauma (non-graphic), Mentions of combat and military life, use of code name for reader, please let me know if anything else should be here!🙏

SUM: A meal shared is more than food—it’s a glimpse into the lives behind the battle lines. As laughter and stories fill the air, a cautious bond begins to form. But for some, their stories remain untold, shrouded in quiet resolve.

A/N: There’s something magical about the mess hall—where guarded hearts begin to thaw, and trust is earned over shared meals and banter. Writing this felt like piecing together a patchwork quilt of warmth and shadows. 🥘🕶️

Rain of Shadows Masterlist

Part 3 - Stories Around the Table

The mess hall hummed with life, the mingling scent of hearty stew and freshly baked bread warming the air. Long tables stretched beneath the dim glow of overhead fluorescents, their polished surfaces reflecting the room’s quiet vibrancy. You found your seat at the far end, close to the edge—a calculated choice, granting you space to observe and retreat. The men of Task Force 141 gathered around the table like soldiers returning to campfire stories after battle. Each carried the weight of legends, their stories carved into the hardened lines of their faces and the scars etched on their hands.

The earlier sparring session lingered in your thoughts, the unspoken challenge of fitting into a brotherhood that moved with the ease of well-worn machinery. Their camaraderie was a world apart from yours, its warmth foreign yet strangely magnetic.

Soap was the first to draw you into the fray, his voice bright and buoyant, like a beacon slicing through fog. “Bloody hell, I didn’t think you’d take me down that fast! Had my money on myself right up to the last second!”

Laughter rippled across the table. Gaz leaned forward, his grin sly. “Aye, it was over so quick I didn’t even have time to grab popcorn. Highlight reel material, that.”

Your lips twitched into a small, hesitant smile, not quite comfortable with being the topic of discussion, but grateful for their effort to include you. Across the room, Simon stood silent and still, leaning against the far wall. His presence was like a shadow, watchful and impenetrable, unaffected by the banter.

The conversation meandered, lighthearted and free, until Captain John Price strode into the hall. His commanding presence quieted the laughter, though the warmth in his nod was undeniable. He surveyed his team like a father looking over his children, then gestured toward the table. “Alright, lads. Let’s do a little ‘get to know the team.’ Share something. I’ll go first.”

Price’s voice carried the weight of experience as he recounted his past—clandestine operations in foreign lands, the roar of gunfire echoing in forgotten streets, the bonds forged in the chaos of near-death moments. His story was layered, rich with the wisdom of a man who had lived a dozen lives.

Gaz followed, his tone a mix of pride and modesty. He spoke of his origins in London, where the city’s secrets layered themselves into his soul, and his drive to protect the vulnerable. Soap’s turn brought a wave of laughter as he animatedly described his rise from the muddy fields of Scotland to the sharp precision of an elite soldier, his humor lighting up the room like fireworks on a dark night.

Then it was Simon’s turn. His contribution was curt, almost dismissive. A few sentences about training, an offhand remark about missions, and then he fell silent again, retreating behind the iron wall of his demeanor.

Finally, all eyes turned to you. Your heart thudded painfully, every word you’d rehearsed slipping through your fingers like water.

“I grew up in a small town,” you began, your voice steady despite the weight of their attention. “Wasn’t much to write home about, but it shaped me. I’ve always wanted to serve and help others in need.”

Soap groaned theatrically, throwing his head back. “C’mon, that’s it? Give us somethin’ juicier! Hobbies, bad habits—anything that’s not from a bloody recruitment poster!”

A nervous chuckle escaped you, your guard slipping just a fraction. “Alright, fine. You can ask me anything—but I get to fire one back at you.”

The challenge lit a spark around the table. Gaz leaned forward. “Where’d you grow up, exactly?”

“Michigan,” you replied. “And you?”

“London, mate,” he said with a grin. “Born and raised in a city full of secrets.”

Soap jumped in next, his mischief gleaming. “Any pets? You seem like a dog person. Am I right?”

“No pets,” you admitted. “Wasn’t allowed where I grew up. Though I’ve always liked dogs. How about you?”

The back-and-forth flowed naturally, the questions and answers weaving a delicate thread of connection. For the first time, you found yourself opening up, though cautiously. Each revelation from the others painted vivid strokes of their lives—their quirks, their dreams, their regrets.

Yet through it all, Simon remained silent. He answered no questions, his responses deflected with short, clipped phrases that revealed nothing. When it was your turn to pry, he shook his head.

“Not taking any questions today,” he said, his tone firm yet oddly gentle. “Just listening. Maybe next time.”

There was no malice in his refusal, but it intrigued you all the same. What stories lay buried beneath his silence? What had forged the man behind the mask?

As the night deepened, laughter spilled across the room like a soothing tide. Stories of battle scars, near misses, and impossible victories painted a tapestry of shared experience. Slowly, the table’s warmth seeped into your guarded heart.

It felt… strange. Foreign. Yet undeniably comforting.

At some point, you caught Simon’s gaze. His eyes held a flicker of something—a softness, a curiosity, perhaps? It was gone in an instant, retreating behind his mask of indifference, but it lingered in your mind.

You resolved to understand him, though you knew it would take time. Simon Riley was a fortress, but even the strongest walls could reveal cracks if you looked closely enough.

As the evening wound down and the team began to disperse, the warmth of their camaraderie lingered. For the first time in years, you felt a tentative sense of belonging, a thread binding you to this group of soldiers.

And though the road ahead was uncertain, one thing was clear: this was only the beginning. Task Force 141 was more than a team. Slowly, they were becoming a family.

And Simon’s shadows? You’d uncover them one day. Of that, you were certain.

Taglist:

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@jessicab1991

@burningarcadething

Here's the current post schedule with some upcoming stories to look forward to!

[sleepiexx]

Valeria Garza x fem reader. Reader and Valeria were once lovers until one day she disappeared and a few years later on a mission to capture El Sin Nombre the reader finds out what she has been doing all this time.

Back When I Loved You

Valeria Garza x fem!Reader

Link to Pt.2

Note: so sorry this took like for-fucking-ever, I’ve been working so fucking much I never write anymore 😭😭 I’m so glad I got this done, I needed to write this. Also, I switched to y/n instead of (Y/N) bc I did a survey and it said most ppl prefer y/n, tell me if u think that’s dumb

Summary: It’s been years since y/n had been stationed in Las Almas, returning opens some old wounds she hadn’t realized never healed.

Warnings: death mention (no one actually dies), soap is a slut, uhhh not much else rlly

Word Count: 3345

Quite a peculiar phenomenon, “the one that got away.” The idea of an old flame that was never allowed to fully ignite and crackle into something beautiful, never quite coming to fruition. The kind of love that leaves you wondering what could have been had circumstances been different, desperately yearning for even the slightest taste of something more.

The topic came up one day as the task force sat around at a bar drinking, waiting for the assignment that they would inevitably have the next day. It started as Gaz recounted the story of how he met a girl before graduation and fell madly for her. Their story ends there with the fact that the moment Gaz realized how he had felt for her, he was being shipped off to boot camp, never to see his lost love ever again. He spoke of how deeply he regretted not pursuing a relationship with her, and how every time he goes home to visit his mother, a tiny part of him hopes to see her again.

Soap went next. Lord knows the man had many, many regrets and many stories regarding his love life, yet one took president in his mind. “She had the softest skin,” he had said, story veering off the main point and getting caught up on the details as it had nearly a million times, once about her hair, three times about her eyes, and now about how “baby soft” her skin was. Eventually— with a little pushing from the others— he told the full story, how he was on vacation, a rarity for him, and how he’d hit it off with this woman. Usually with his one night stands, it was purely sexual, no emotional connection whatsoever. Yet this time, Soap had found himself enchanted. After what he described as a “magical” night, she’d disappeared, and he never got the chance to give her his number.

“What about you, old timer, I’m sure you’ve got an old flame who escaped ya’,” Soap beamed, turning the conversation towards Price who smiled and nodded fondly to himself.

“She was-“ he sighed, “well, she was something.” No matter what he did, he couldn’t escape the smile that creeped up his cheeks as he told the story. A kind lover, she was. Made him breakfast in the mornings, listened as he complained about work— he was just a Lieutenant back then, but she listened. And she was always there. Until she wasn’t. The Captain’s story ever so slowly changed from happily reminiscing and took on a much more somber tone as Price recounted the fighting that led up to his break up with the woman. He had been coming up on the end of his contract with the British Army and she had wanted him to stay with her, start a family, but Price had been in the military for a long time. He had no clue what life would even be like outside of the Army. And so he reenlisted. He spoke about how deeply he regretted that, how there were nights that he woke up and just imagined how his life could have panned out had he stayed with her. Would he be awoken by their kids pouncing up and down on him, rather than the ever-present nightmares he gets as his current wake up call? He would never know, and that would haunt him to this day.

Price took a big swig of whiskey at the melancholy thought, turning the attention toward y/n, “What about you, kid? You’re still young, hopefully no sad stories yet?”

Y/n shook her head, “I don’t see it as sad, more so I see it as I’m happy I got that experience. Yeah I’m upset that it never went anywhere but I’m glad that it happened period.” She smiled, happy with her answer but the others stared on with shocked looks. “What?” She asked.

Soap’s eyes were wide, “Well you can’t just say all o’ that and then just not tell us the story.” He shook his head, flabbergasted, “We all told you, save for Ghost but the man’s already very private, so now it’s your turn.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, “yeah, yeah,” she took a sip of her drink, a little liquid courage to help loosen the story out of herself, “I was stationed in Mexico for some time. Beautiful country, beautiful people, I loved every second of it. Every night I would go out with my American buddies on the town and we would just fuck around, have some fun. Well one night I’d gotten separated, maybe it was the alcohol, maybe they ditched me, I don’t know, we don’t really talk anymore so I don’t think I ever will. But anyways, as you do when you’re drunk and alone, I found trouble. Some man came up to me with a knife, tried to rob me, I was really in no state to fight back, but in comes this woman to defend me. I’d seen her around the base before, she was Mexican Special Forces, I knew that. I also knew how goddamn hot she was. With her tattoos running all up and down her toned arms, and how enchanting her deep brown eyes were.”

The team immediately got chatty at that, hyping her up. “L/n with the moves,” one of them had teased. She laughed, feeling blood pumping in her face.

“So anyways, she jumps in and fights the guy for trying to rob me while I was so drunk. I was absolutely slack-jawed. I’d never had anyone fight so fiercely for me in my life, especially not a stranger, and even more especially not a stranger I had a huge crush on. I remember her turning to me, once the dude was down for the count and just saying ‘you okay?’ I can remember her exact tone and god, it made me melt. She walked me back to my barracks and I was done for. The very next day I sought her out and told her I’d buy her a drink to make up for it. Thus started an epic romance.”

Y/n grinned as the others piped in with their little comments, excited to finally get to talk about her lost love after all this time.

“For months we went out together, dancing, talking, drinking, everything else that comes along with a relationship,” she smirked at that, face only dropping as she got the ‘getting away’ part, “and, uh, we were happy, y’know. I could see myself having a future with this woman. But as life has it, I was stationed elsewhere while she had been on a mission. I tried calling the base a few times.” She stopped to collect her breath, “but, uh, I was told that her and her squad went MIA on that mission. Likely killed in action is what they said.”

She sniffled a little bit, hoping it was unnoticeable by her teammates. Shaking her head as she finished her drink, and began to stand she turned to them for a final time, “I’m gonna turn in for the night it’s getting late.”

The rest of them nodded, waiting until she was gone to quietly chat amongst themselves. She was the topic of choice, of course. How bad they all felt for her. How guilty they felt for bringing it up. Ultimately it wasn’t their fault but they felt awful. Not too long after, they themselves all turned in, awaiting what the next day would have for them.

Months later, after many missions, and after the conversation they had had slipped away from them, the task force found themselves on their way to Mexico in search of the infamous cartel leader, El Sin Nombre. No one dared to mention y/n’s past, but of course, they weren’t completely discreet with their fleeting looks.

Despite their knowledge of y/n’s deployment to a base in Mexico, they were still shocked to see that the Colonel as well as some of the soldiers of the Las Almas base knew her.

“Y/n! Long time no see, last I saw you, you were still just a private.” Colonel Alejandro Vargas said, patting her on the shoulder in greeting as the group got off their chopper.

Y/n smirked, “could say the same to you. Wonder who died and made Lieutenant Vargas into the colonel of the Mexican Special Forces.”

Alejandro rolled his eyes and went to counter, but the man next to him made himself known with a contagious laugh. The task force could see sparkles in y/n’s eyes at the sound.

“Rudy!” She shouted, happily enveloping the giggly man into a hug.

“Hi, y/n.” He smiled, hugging her back just as tight.

In the midst of it all, Captain Price couldn’t help but clear his throat to get the group’s attention. “I hate to break this up,” he said, thick British drawl dragging out every word, “but we really do have some pressing matters to take care of.”

Y/n and Rodolfo split, standing at attention. Alejandro spoke for them, “you are right, there will be plenty of time to catch up once this is all over.”

They each nodded in agreement, eager to get to the task at hand.

It was no easy feat. Despite not really keeping up with the news in Las Almas since she had been gone, y/n knew just how bad cartels could get. That paired with the frustration that seemed to radiate from Alejandro every time El Sin Nombre was mentioned, he had to be some bad, bad motherfucker.

Soap went in under no guise or cover, walking right up to the front door and presenting himself like meat to hungry wolves. Y/n and Alejandro, on the other hand, terminated nearly half a dozen cartel soldiers, stealing their masks and outfits to fit right in to the party.

They surveilled Soap throughout, following closely behind, making sure no actual cartel soldiers noticed him. They followed him right to the third floor, right to El Sin Nombre. When the name Valeria left Soap’s mouth after looking through the snake cam, y/n and Alejandro made eye contact, both feeling a similar nausea at the thought.

But they shook it off.

It couldn’t possibly be her, right? She died on a mission targeting the son of La Araña, didn’t she? Sure she was officially determined MIA but a person doesn’t get lost this long, not like this.

Sure enough, as the door burst open, through the hail of bullets being shot across the room both to and from cartel higher ups, there she was.

The shock was evident on y/n’s face as she saw the woman kneeling on the roof. She saw short, dark hair and shook. It’s not her, it can’t be her. But it was. She could tell by the dark eyes carefully watching her every move as she walked behind the woman, pulling her hands down around the woman’s body and behind her back to cuff them.

Y/n prayed the woman couldn’t feel the tremor in her hands, but she knew all too well. Once upon a time the dark-haired woman knew every detail about her, it almost seemed as though that hadn’t changed.

Few words were uttered on the chopper back to the Vaquero’s base— save for a few “shut up Graves,”’s since the man refused to stop talking all smug, as though he was the sole reason El Sin Nombre had finally been caught— but a million things went unsaid as y/n avoided the Vaqueros’ gazes. The rest of the 141 were none the wiser to the fleeting looks that the Vaqueros shared.

The waiting period was long and drawn out as the woman was processed. Of course she had to have her prints and DNA taken, it’s never as simple as getting to talk to her first.

The anticipation was getting to y/n, who was anxiously chewing her nails down to the beds, leaving them jagged and slightly bloody.

The door clicked open, catching the room’s attention, “She’s been fully processed, whenever you’re ready you may begin the interrogation.” The soldier in the doorway stepped aside, clearing the path for the 141, the Colonel, and his second in command to pass.

They walked swiftly and with precision as they borderline-prowled their way down to the storage container that held the woman. Price took the lead as y/n and Alejandro fell behind, dragging their feet. Rudy followed behind the two, making sure neither avoided the inevitable.

Graves was the first to open his mouth, gesturing to both Alejandro and Valeria, “explain how you two know each other?”

Words, glares, and taunts were exchanged as they began the story.

“Go on, tell them.” Alejandro commanded.

Valeria scoffed, “I don’t take orders anymore, even the dogs in Las Almas know not to bark at me.” Valeria’s eyes caught y/n’s hesitant form as she spoke the last part.

Alejandro angrily shook his head, “she’s ex-military, we served together.”

Despite their distances, and their long time apart, the two shared a perfect flow when telling the story.

“Different squads, same unit.” Valeria began, “you were the wild ones, huh? Los Vaqueros.”

Alejandro grinned at her words.

Her gaze once more shifted to y/n, “my squad was clean cut señoras y señores.”

“Until the raid on the son of La Araña,” Valeria smirked at the sentence, Alejandro continued. “Her team was told to cordon of the city to ward off La Araña’s enforcers and prevent the bloodshed.”

“That’s exactly what we did,” she smiled.

Alejandro’s anger only spiked at her smug face, “What, you kept out his enforcers because you were his enforcers, eh?”

Her voice was taunting, “he was escorted to the mountains without incident, also to prevent bloodshed.”

Y/n felt her stomach turn. All the time she spent sobbing over Valeria and yet all the while the woman was running around doing all sorts of illegal activities.

Rudy piped in, almost as shocked at the realization as y/n, “he was supposed to go to prison.”

Graves grabbed Valeria’s shoulder, pulling her back, and further pissing off y/n. “So you killed him. And you took over.”

“I created a power vacuum, and I filled it. Las Almas needs me.”

The moment his hands looked as though they were about to wander, y/n was upset, nearly growling out a rage-filled “hands off.”

Graves lifted his hands off of the woman as if he’d been burned, holding them up. “Woah, woah, woah. What’s with you getting all feisty over the prisoner?”

Y/n just glared, gaze unmoving.

“Holy shit,” Gaz whispered, glancing between y/n and Valeria, “It’s her, isn’t it?”

Y/n’s eyes softened in confusion, turning her attention to Gaz, “Pardon?”

The rest of the team seemed to come to the same realization as him, moments before he spoke, “Her. She’s Her. You said you had a romance with a soldier while stationed in Mexico, a soldier who went missing. With what Alejandro said, the stories line up, Valeria is the woman you were in love with, isn’t she?”

Y/n broke eye contact, slightly embarrassed, still enraged, altogether hot in the face as she stared at the floor. “Yeah,” she admitted hesitantly, “yeah, it’s her.”

Valeria’s eyes were stuck to her down-trodden form, smirking at the fact that she now knew; y/n had talked about her. Y/n talked about her to her team. A sweet little thought.

“Nothing to be ashamed about,“ Valeria spoke cockily, “you sure weren’t ashamed of it when we were in love.”

When we were in love.

The words stung. The wound was old, yet here it had been ripped open as if it had happened mere days ago.

“Yeah, well that was before you left me to join the cartel.”

Valeria scoffed, “Join it? Please, I fucking run it. Besides, I think you forget that you’re the one who left.”

As the tension rose between the former lovers, the atmosphere in the room became rather awkward. The 141, the Vaqueros, and the few Shadows who were in the room sat staring dumbly at each other, wondering just how long they should let this go on

“You wanna go there? As I recall, you left weeks before I was deployed on what I thought was a mission. Turns out you went off with your little druggie friends to play gangster. I called the base a million times, they told me you were dead!”

Valeria stood from her seat abruptly, causing everyone else in the room to reach for their guns. Neither y/n, nor Valeria stood down. Y/n gestured for the others to leave the room, they hesitated but eventually followed her command. Now face to face, feeling each other’s breaths on their cheeks, the two seethed.

“I bet you would have liked that, huh?” Valeria started, eyes set into a deep glare, “me being dead would have made this so much easier for you, no loose ends.”

If y/n didn’t know any better, she would think this was Valeria trying to get y/n to kill her, death before snitching after all. But y/n knew her, knew suicide wasn’t her calling. This wasn’t a plead for death, this was a challenge. Fuck with me, I dare you.

Y/n’s lips turned downward into a gritty scowl. Even through her anger, tears managed to slip their way through her glaring eyes at the thought of her ever wanting Valeria dead.

“Never.” She whispered, voice cracking, “I cried every night for you for months, Valeria. I loved you so much, god, I still fuckin’ do.”

She reached into her shirt, pulling out two sets of dog tags and gripping tightly onto one of them. The ones she held, Valeria knew very well. They matched the ones she kept tucked under her shirt. An old pair that she had given to y/n way back when; they were the ones she was issued as a sergeant, before she reached lieutenant status and received the ones she currently wore all these years later.

And all at once, Valeria felt her heart shatter.

All these years she had spent letting her anger toward y/n fester and grow, thinking she had just abandoned her. All these years and yet all the while, y/n was devastated. They told y/n she died. Y/n thought she was dead. Y/n mourned her, cried for her, hurt for her. And here was Valeria, yelling at her.

She softened her stiff posture, cautiously reaching out for y/n. Valeria cupped y/n’s cheek, and for a while they just sat there like that. Time passed but it felt like nothing compared to the eternity they had missed together. Y/n finally looked up. In one fell swoop, Valeria crashed her lips to y/n’s

The kiss was all consuming, destroying any distractions in its path as the lovers made up for lost time. Caution was thrown to the wind with neither girl worried about their positions and duties. In this kiss they were not El Sin Nombre nor Sergeant l/n, they were just lovers. Just Valeria and y/n, reunited.

What felt like a million hours were lost in each other’s lips. As they separated, Valeria’s eyes opened, y/n’s stayed shut. Valeria stared, waiting for y/n to reveal her gorgeous eyes, yet when the moment finally came, it hurt. Y/n’s eyes shined with sorrow, something Valeria could see very clear.

Valeria tried to reach forward, but y/n stepped back, clearing her throat, “this,” she sighed deeply, fighting internally with herself, “this cannot happen again.”

She turned her back toward Valeria, knowing it would be too hard to look her in the eyes. Knowing she would lose all composure and fold. But she stayed strong, and in a few short steps, she was out of the room.

[fanfictionstuff]

Happy New Year Amaimon x GN Reader

Hello! I think I waited enough time for this to arrive for most people on New Year's Eve, it's noon new year's eve for me.

Happy New Year! I hope everyone has a great 2025.

I love you guys <33333

“Do you have any plans for New Year?” you ask Amaimon, as you stroll through the city hand in hand. He initially shakes his head, but then pauses, his grip tightening on your hand. “People go to parties for New Year, right?” he inquires, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “Yeah, it’s common, though I’ve never attended a big New Year party. I usually spend the holiday with close family and friends. In fact, this will be the first time I’m celebrating New Year away from my family.” You had planned to return home for the holidays this year, but that was before Amaimon came into your life at True Cross Academy. You fell for him hard and fast. Fortunately, by some miracle, he became interested in you as well. 

His grip tightened as he asks, "Do you plan to go to a party this year?” Christmas had already passed, yet he is still grumpy about the fact that you had stayed with your friends for a couple of hours at the party instead of staying home with him. When you returned to your apartment, he sat on the sofa and gave you the silent treatment for a full twenty minutes before he eventually pulled you onto his lap, grumbling about you choosing Rin Okumura over him. “Do you want to come to my apartment and spend New Year with me? Just us?” 

“So, like every other night?” 

“No! I’ll prepare some proper food for us and set up decorations. A party for just the two of us.” As you share your plans with him, you can’t help but picture him wearing those cheesy 2025 glasses. Yeah, you’ve got to get a few cheesy decorations and supplies. “Unless you have somewhere else in mind, we don’t have to attend the party in town. We could find a spot away from the crowd and watch the fireworks from a rooftop or somewhere similar." You offer a second idea. Amaimon pauses, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “I’ll do whatever you want,” he says, before leaning in to press his lips against yours in a sweet kiss that always leaves you feeling like you might melt. 

--------------------------------

“Hey! You’re early. I’m not finished yet.” You huff as the demon king strides into your apartment without even bothering to knock. He slips the magical key he used back into his pocket as he approaches you. “You’re an hour early,” you complain, but he disregards your words and steps into the kitchen, pulling you into a kiss. 

“Big Brother told me we’re supposed to kiss at midnight.” 

You nod slowly, a hint of embarrassment creeping in. “Well, we don’t have to..."

“I like kissing you, so I don’t care.”

You nod again, wondering if Mephisto shared the significance behind why people kiss on New Year’s. However, it’s not a topic you want to bring up; he would likely find it absurd. "Anyway, you can either relax on the sofa or help me with a bit of decorating," you suggest, pointing to a banner you've yet to tackle and a few gold and black balloons that need to be inflated.

Everything is finished quite quickly; most of the food was nearly ready when Amaimon arrived. You just needed a bit more time to decorate. However, as you walk into the living room, you see that Amaimon has done a fantastic job. The balloons are taped to the walls, and streamers hang gracefully across the room, with a banner displaying Happy New Year is also displayed nicely. “Wow, I’m impressed by how well you decorated," you admit, your eyes widening at the sight. “I saw something like this on TV," he replies, holding up his phone to show you the different examples he found. 

Amaimon steps closer, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into a kiss. When his tongue brushes against your lower lip, you gently push him away. “Stop, you’re distracting me. I need to get our food.” He stares blankly at you as you step away to grab the food from the kitchen. It’s actually mainly snacks and not a proper meal, but you decided to bring in the new year with what you know will make Amaimon happiest. “But I like kissing you.” 

“I’m aware. But at least let me grab the food.” You know the food will keep him occupied for most of the night. “It’s a few hours until midnight, what do we do until then?” He questions, shoving some ice cream into his mouth. 

“Uh, I’m not sure,” you admit awkwardly. “Is there something people usually do?” you ask. “Let’s take some photos.” As you say this, you put on the silly 2025 glasses and place them on Amaimon’s face. “It’s common to take silly pictures,” you say, then pull out your phone to open the camera app. As Amaimon sets the bowl of ice cream on the living room table, he pulls you into his arms. You grab a ridiculous hat featuring the year, pulling him closer to fit in the picture frame, and smile while he stares blankly at the camera.

After taking a few photos, you can’t help but laugh. “This is why my family questions whether we’re actually in a relationship. Most people look happy in their photos with their partner."

“They question if we’re in a relationship?"

"Yeah, one of my cousins insists it’s all in my head and even questions if we’re friends."

“Which cousin?”

You mention your cousin’s name as you continue scrolling through the photos. “Come here,” Amaimon orders. “What do you mean ‘come here’? I’m sitting in your lap,” you say with a snort. He grabs the back of your head with one hand and the phone with the other, pulling you into another kiss—this one slightly more passionate as he digs his claws into your scalp, causing you to gasp so he can deepen the kiss. With one hand, he holds up the phone and snaps a few photos. Your face burns with embarrassment when he finally pulls away, but he barely notices. Instead, he opens your messaging app to text that annoying cousin of yours. Without picking out the best photo, he sends the first one to your cousin, along with a message. Do you want more proof?

As the feeling of his kiss fades, you blink in disbelief. “Wait! What are you doing?” You quickly snatch the phone from him and gaze at the text, still in shock. “Amaimon.”

The reply comes back quickly Happy New Year to you too, smh

I’m sorry! That was Amaimon. You add an explanation of why Amaimon sent the text because you told him what they had said. 

Whatever, I believe you now. You have bad taste in men smh.

Amaimon leans back against the arm of the sofa and continues eating his ice cream. “They’re going to share that photo with everyone.” You pout. 

“Good.” 

You sigh and lean against his chest, flipping through the options on your TV. Eventually, you settle on a show because if you both start a movie, you'd miss the New Year. You take a deep breath, inhaling his earthy scent. The king responds by rubbing soft circles on your back with his claws, helping you relax even more in his arms. 

“_____.” Amaimon gently shakes your shoulders. “Huh?” “It’s almost midnight.” You jolt at that, quickly jumping up while grabbing your phone. His actions had put you to sleep. “It’s ten minutes until New Year!” Opening the balcony door, you step outside to see all the fireworks and people enjoying themselves. 

“What are we supposed to do?” Amaimon questions as he stares down at the people below. 

"Sometimes, people make wishes or promises about what they hope to achieve in the coming year. Others engage in different activities they believe will bring them luck, like sharing a kiss. For some, a kiss symbolizes a fresh start and the hope for a wonderful year ahead, while for others, it carries the desire for a lasting connection with their partner, forever. Ultimately, it all depends on the individual and their intentions." You explain, as you begin to hear the countdown of people below you. 

“TEN!” 

Amaimon steps closer to you. 

“NINE!”

His mesmerizing golden eyes lock onto yours, and you can’t help but melt under his gaze.

“EIGHT!” 

“SEVEN!” 

“SIX!” 

“FIVE!” 

“FOUR!”

“THREE!” 

He tenderly cups your cheek with his warm hand, leaning in closer until the murmurs of the world beneath you fade into a distant hum. "Forever," he breathes softly against your lips, his voice low and intimate, before capturing your mouth with his in a kiss. 

[mask131]

Exploring the Ice King (4)

Here's at last the final part of this series! I wanted to release this post for the Day of the Kings, but I was too busy IRL... So it's today instead. After going 'round and 'round the elephant in the room, we finally get to touch the heart and core of Ice King: the inspirations of the monarch of ice and snow, and the ancestors of a winter sorcerer!

The most common and widespread trivia you will find around the Internet is that the Ice King seems to have been mainly influenced by the character of the "Winter Warlock" from the Rankin/Bass "Santa Claus is Comin' to Town". Indeed, we find the same lushious beard, pointy features, weird crown, penguin companion, ice-magic and antagonistic role

A similar evil ice sorcerer appeared in "Ruldoph and Frosty's Christmas in July", the wizard Winterbolt - whose name reminds of Ice King's "ice lightning"

The world of Rankin/Bass animations seems to have had a certain influence over Adventure Time. The duo formed by the Heat Miser and Snow Miser can have a vague echo in the duality of the Ice King and Flame King....

... While the huge Snow realm ruled by Father Winter in Rankin/Bass' "Jack Frost" reminds one of the various ice and snow creatures of Ice King's empty domain:

However there is a MUCH more direct inspiration to be listed... An animated movie that clearly was one of the roots of Adventure Time. 1971's The Point, about a boy with a strange hat and his dog going on an adventure... And where the king of the land looks like this:

I don't think I need to make anymore explanations - outside of mentionning that 1971's The Point was actually the animated adaptation of a musical album, and that the starting point of the writing of the story was someone's acid trip... Literaly. Both elements which also echo a LOT with Adventure Time's own style and uniqueness. Though the king in this version was a shy, timid, benevolent and magic-less ruler - a far cry from AT more dangerous and unstable ice-wizard.

Speaking of direct inspirations for Adventure Time, it has never been a secret that 1977's "Wizards" had been one of the main sources of Adventure Time's world. An earth returned to a world of fantasy, magic and fairies after a nuclear war, with a half-skeletal evil wizard leading armies of mutants and robots against the excentric, quirky and weird forces of "good"... The homage is neat and clear.

Why am I speaking of this however? No Ice King ancestor seems to be hiding there... Well, I suggest you take a look at another one of Ralph Bakshi's animated fantasy movies... No, not the animated "Lord of the Rings" movie. But 1983's "Fire and Ice". An animated collaboration with Frank Frazetta himself, about bluish-skinned, white-haired ice-rulers using snow magic to invade a fantasy land and capture a princess, only for a brave, sword-wielding blond hero to have to rescue her... While he is much more youthful, sexy and sane than Ice King, prince Nekron IS definitively one of the characters' ancestors.

The presence of an ice queen ruling alongside Nekron makes me think back on a specific topic... In fantasy, the role of sorcerous evil lords with powers and affinity for ice, snow and the cold is traditionally taken by a woman. Probably as a remnant of the popularity of Andersen's Snow Queen fairytale:

To mention a few famous examples, you have the White Witch of Narnia (which was C.S. Lewis taking Andersen's Snow Queen and fusing her with Lilith and She-who-must-be-obeyed):

Or Tad Williams' Utuk'ku, Queen of the Norns (the literary ancestors of Game of Thrones' White Walkers, Martin literaly ripped them off):

And Warhammer's Tzarina Katarin, first of the ice-witches of Kislev

Adventure Time did have some female characters wielding the powers of the ice - from the Ice Queen to Patience St. Prim, but it stayed mainly focused on the snow magic being male-owned (Ice King, Ice Finn, Evergreen, and all the recent alternates like the Winter King)...

... And by stayed quite "male-focused", Adventure Time echoes once more an ancient mythical archetype, a legendary character whose many incarnations go from Old Father Winter of England to Ded Moroz (Grandfather Frost) of Russia, passing by Jack Frost and Boreas...

I could have talked about the large presence of ice spirits, spells and entities within the world of "Dungeons and Dragons" but this post is getting way too long, so, to conclude, I will also point out something many have noticed before - how a blue-skinned man-freak freezing everything over a tragic love story is strongly reminiscent of Batman's Mr. Freeze

[gilded-garnet]

Torturous Teachings

F!MC x Sebastian Sallow

WC: 1.3K

Summary: MC has had feelings for Sebastian since 6th year. Bored during a study session, MC asks him to teach her a new spell, and he can't resist the opportunity to make her flustered.

Notes: It's been a while! I've read a lot of fics lately about flustered Sebastian, so I wanted to write a fluffy something featuring flustered MC!

(MC is Gryffindor in this fic, though it's only mentioned.)

After almost an hour of attempting to summarise the potential side effects of improperly brewed Felix Felicis, she was at her limit. She huffed, throwing herself back in her chair and rubbing her sore wrist. Seventh year was rough. She felt like she hadn't had a moment to breathe around the amount of assignments she'd been set. Every time she handed one in she was given three more.

She looked across the table at her study companion. Sebastian remained engrossed in his writing, eyebrows slightly furrowed in that way that she loathed to admit made her insides just a little bit mushy. She had long since come to terms with her feelings for the Slytherin, which had hit her quite suddenly halfway through sixth year. However, despite being a proud Gryffindor, she was ashamed that this was something she couldn't bring herself to act upon. He was her first and closest friend and they had literally been through hell together. No, she had concluded, she would simply suffer in silence. If Sebastian wanted her to be anything more than a friend, she was sure he would have made it known; he was hardly shy.

Great, now she was frustrated as well as bored. In desperate need of a distraction, and because she felt compelled to take revenge on him for absolutely no logical reason at all, she transfigured some spare parchment beside her into a paper bird. She flicked her wand under the table to send it soaring straight into his hair, where it became snugly lodged in his curls.

To her disappointment, he barely glanced up from his note-taking, though he did reach up to extract it from his hair, holding it loosely in his fist as he continued to scribble.

She huffed. Despite his well-earned reputation as a serial troublemaker, she had found that he could be incredibly studious when he wanted to be, particularly if it was a topic that interested him. She'd never met anyone with the ability to digest books and scrolls like he did. Still, she was still bored and her stubbornness rivalled his own.

She transformed a few more paper birds and sent them flying into him. One bounced off his forehead, whilst the other collided with his chest. He sighed, irritated, and muttered: "Oppugno".

Suddenly, the three paper birds launched into the air and flew towards her. She squeeked in surprise and indignation as they swarmed her, bumping repeatedly into her forehead, hair and cheeks. She raised her arms to swat them away, but they danced out of reach just to return with a vengeance. Though she was preoccupied, she noticed that Sebastian had finally stopped writing to savour her torment, a smirk on his face. Git.

"Protego!" She cast, and the birds bounced harmlessly off her shield to finally settle on the ground.

"What the hell, Sebastian?!  She accused, attempting to tame her now unruly hair.

He shrugged, looking smug. "You started it."

"What was that spell just now, anyway?" She asked.

He raised an eyebrow at her, surprised. "You don't know that one? It's pretty basic."

She rolled her eyes. "Are you forgetting that I missed out on four years of magical education? Those extra assignments didn't teach me everything, you know."

He smiled, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "You know, I don't think I should teach you. You don't need any more spells to use against me."

"Oh, come on. I know you love playing teacher."

"Alas, you're right. I can't pass up an opportunity to impart knowledge to the needy," he replied as he stood up from his chair, stretching as he did so.

"Alright, on your feet. This shouldn't be too challenging to master for the Hero of Hogwarts." He emphasised the last part with a mock bow.

She rolled her eyes as she stood. He knew how much that title irked her, which - of course - meant he used it often.

"So, as you know, the incantation is 'Oppugno'. It allows you to direct objects or creatures to attack the target. This is the wand movement..." He demonstrated slowly for her to mimic, and he nodded, satisfied. "Give it a try."

She looked down at the stationary paper birds and recited the jinx, waving her wand as demonstrated. The paper birds twitched slightly, but showed no sign of further movement. She frowned, looking at him accusingly. "Did you teach me wrong on purpose?"

He scoffed. "Please, I take my role as teacher very seriously, thank you. Your wand movement is slightly off. Here..." he walked towards her, and she suddenly felt incredibly nervous. This feeling only magnified ten-fold when he came to stand behind her, his hand loosely taking hold of her wrist, guiding it so that her wand was outstretched before her.

Her heart was hammering in her chest, the hand on her wand suddenly felt clammy and her mouth was dry. All in all, she was a wreck, and all he'd done was hold her wrist. Pathetic, she chided herself. She had faced down goblin rebellions, taken out more poachers and Ashwinders than she could count, but this is what made her knees shake?

When he spoke, she could feel his voice vibrating in his chest as it pressed agains her back and his breath as it fanned against her neck. "You're flicking too much. It's more of an arc, like this..." He directed her movements with his own. "See?"

"Mhmm," she responded. It was all she could trust herself to say in that moment, and she desperately hoped he hadn't noticed her no doubt flaming cheeks. If he had, she hoped he assumed it was just embarassment at not being able to grasp such a simple spell on the first attempt.

Still, she seriously considered messing up again, just so he'd remain exactly where he was, but quickly convinced herself that the thought was insane. However, it didn't stop the feeling of disappointment that curled in her chest when he released her wrist and stepped back slightly to give her more room.

"Oppugno!" She cast, and this time the paper birds burst into life, rising into the air to shoot towards Sebastian, attacking him mercilessly as they had her. He put up with it for a moment, no doubt to give her the satisfaction, but soon flicked his wand to turn them into harmless confetti.

"Well done!" He said, wearing that proud smile he wore every time he taught her something new, and she felt a warm glow in her stomach at the praise. Get a grip, she chided herself.

"Yeah, thanks," she smiled back. "You were right, though, it was a mistake teaching me this. You'll have to keep your wits about you from now on," she teased. It was easy, she thought, to fall back into their usual manner. Though it hurt a bit, too.

He chuckled, and she thought it might be one of her favourite sounds. "I have seen you transform a poacher into a chicken. I don't think adding paper birds to your roster makes you much more dangerous," he said, and she laughed.

"Anyway, as enjoyable as making you flustered was, I do have an assignment to finish," he said, brushing past her gently, as if it was nothing. He was wearing a very self-satisfied smile.

She gaped at him, mortified. "I was not flustered," she retorted, her worst fears realised. The bastard had noticed.

He reclaimed his seat at the desk, raising a cynical eyebrow up at her. "Darling, your cheeks were on fire."

"That...that was because I was embarassed at failing the spell the first time."

"Your hand was shaking."

"No, it wasn't!"

"And you definitely pressed back against me, ever so -"

She wanted to scream, for the ground to completely swallow her up. This couldn't be happening. "Shut up! You have no idea what you're talking about." She stuttered, haphazerdously scooping her books and parchment into her satchel. "You are insufferable!"

The rich sound of his laughter followed her long after she had fled the room.

[shenenenigans]

[PUBLIC] INTERVIEW WITH 030219, TOP STUDENT of ANAKT Garden, and PRIZED PET HUMAN of Guardian Noct

REMEMBER! bold pink text is sirius, not regular pink text. crossed out words are spoken, but edited out in the public interview.

@4listr @bluemoonscape @aakaneeee @rockwgooglyeyes @apriciticreveries @pwippy @nottoonedin @paradisedisconcert @starry-skiez APOLOGIES IF I FORGET TO TAG YOU EVER BY THE WAY…

Please introduce yourself.

Hello, my name is Sirius, and I am very thankful to be here today. When I was selected as an Outstanding Student, I remember feeling quite confident. Now that I’m number one, it truly feels like a dream. I look forward to our conversation… Interviewer Ambys.

How does it feel to be named Top Student of the 40th ANAKT Garden? Are you proud?

I personally think it is a great honor. I’m very appreciative of those who have allowed me to climb up to this point in my education. Including my seniors that have since graduated, and my brother who had tragically passed when I was a child. My guardian, Noct, has also taught me so much. He is a very good teacher, so it’s really no wonder I’ve gotten this far, haha.

I hear you have an innate ability to create new life from those who are deceased. Do you have anything to say on that?

Ah, yes. That is true. I make sure to take care of the recently deceased’s bodies well, and it’s quite beautiful to see new life cultivated from the hollow shell of flesh. These poor people, given their untimely deaths, deserve a new chance at living. I do this by turning them into plants, maybe animals if I believe it suits them better. I’ve gotten into contact with a few segyein who work with the dead bodies in ALNST, and I’ve gotten access to them. Do you remember Ellie? The contestant who was assassinated? Poor girl. I turned her decaying body into a bouquet of beautiful red roses. Her guardian is quite pleased with me. I think of this new life as an evolved form of cremation. Unlike the gloominess of being created from ash and returning to ash, people who are saved by me after their deaths are created from ash, and bloomed into something lovely.

Do your classmates know about your endeavors?

Well, the previous question will be the first they’re most likely hearing of this. I don’t usually talk about this kind of stuff at the garden.

Can you talk about your background, where you come from?

…

May I ask who submitted this question?

Submissions are anonymous.

I apologize, but I will not be answering the question about my past. It makes me extremely uncomfortable to discuss such topics. But if you must now, I did not always have such wealth as I do today.

Sirius. Answer the question.

I got you here, Ambys. You will not force me to do anything. I know what makes you tick. I know how to dismantle your healing factor. You are under my control, and this is final.

Very well then. How do you feel about entering in the Alien Stage competition against your peers?

I’m not scared. Even if I don’t win, I’ll live on in the plants I plan for Noct to grow from my body.

What is your daily schedule?

Hm. I’d rather not give specific times as it changes depending on the needs of my classes and test subjects. Usually, I wake rather early to study, and when I finish I begin checking on my subjects to make sure everything is in order. I make sure my room is completely spotless every day. I cannot stand dirt or grime. I arrive early to most classes, and I actually take care to remotely view my specimens at home. I try to keep a good balance of my personal activities and my real classes. I try not to wake my roommate, really, but in all honesty I sometimes fail at that. My days are simple and rather repetitive, but that’s what I enjoy most.

How skilled would you say you are at magic tricks? It is your special talent, after all.

Very. Magic is all about diverting attention as well as grabbing it. “Trick” is in the name, of course. Magic is about distraction. It is an art to be mastered. Would you like to see something silly?

[SIRIUS grabs a tiny photo card of themself from inside their pocket.]

Look.

[With a flick of the wrist, the photo card turns into red flower petals.]

Isn’t that nice? Hehe, thank you for having me, Interviewer Ambys. It’s very nice to have you back after your brief… hiatus. If you could call it that.

Really, it would be such a shame if you went away again. You were quite honorable.

Next time you interview me, don’t ask me pointless questions I won’t answer. I’ll grow vines out of your bone marrow and make you chew on them.

… It was a pleasure having you, Sirius. Thank you.

[zeldahime]

Highway to Pail Day 15

[Day 1] [Prev] [Next] @do-it-with-style-events

February 15: What did the duck say when the waitress came? Put it on my bill.

Aziraphale and Crowley were lingering at a beautiful café about a block and a half from St. James's Park, enjoying the rare sunny summer weather in their outdoor seating. Crowley's blazer hung on the back of his seat, sleeves rolled up to just below the elbow and top three buttons of his shirt undone, all the better to bask and, though Aziraphale was sure it wasn't his primary intention, all the better for Aziraphale to admire his lovely corporation.

In fact, seeing Crowley so beautifully turned out for the sun reminded him of a trick he'd seen carried off at an outdoors magic show, just a few months before. The assistant who had carried it had been slender and red-headed and wearing, well, rather less clothing than Crowley was now, in point of fact. It had been a marvelous trick.

"Did I tell you," he asked excitedly, "about the show I saw at Hyde Park, back in April? The young man was no Houdini but he was quite the showman, and he and his assistant carried off this variation on The Devil's Torture Chamber that was really rather clever!" Crowley was already rolling his eyes and groaning ("Devil's Torture Chamber, angel? Really?"), but nevertheless, Aziraphale persisted. "When the spikes pressed her down, though they don't really, as you know, it's a trick box, at the time the assistant is normally revealed to be unharmed, she was instead replaced by an animal! And I was thinking, if I were to adopt that trick—"

"Oh no, no no no, don't even think about it angel—"

"—I would use a duck, rather than a dog, you know how Harry feels about dogs—"

"Harry's fine with dogs, he's not the one who got bit in the '50s—"

"The 3750s BC, Crowley, you know I'm quite over it. Using a duck would be a wonderful twist though, don't you agree? They're adorable, and quite trainable, and I wouldn't have to keep it in the shop!"

"You'd be using a duck from the duck pond in your magic act, would you?" Crowley sneered derisively.

"Exactly!" Aziraphale beamed, purposefully ignoring his tone.

"And what happened the last time you used a bird in your act?" Aziraphale's beam stuttered briefly before he regrouped.

"And then, this is the difficult bit mind, they reversed the trick so that the dog, which would be a duck, turned back into the assistant! I do wonder how they got the dog to sit so quietly in the box during the trick, it did seem rather solid and I do think dogs need air, I wasn't part of that division but it does seem a rather universal trait."

"Don't stuff a dog in a box, angel."

"I wasn't going to, Crowley."

"Or a duck."

"My dear boy," Aziraphale said haughtily. "I am describing a trick I would like to do, not one I have immediate plans for."

Crowley crossed his arms. "Box. Don't stuff it."

"I shan't stuff a snake in a box, if it makes you feel better. Especially a curmudgeonly snake who is insisting on being very difficult."

Crowley stuck out his tongue, which he forked specifically to be contrary, and the conversation meandered to other topics.

A while later, Crowley got up to take a phone call regarding an ongoing wile ("Sorry angel, been trying to tempt this guy for weeks, he's impossible to catch even with literal miracles"). Aziraphale was unimpressed when he returned several minutes later as a duck.

"Really? Crowley. Really," Aziraphale said to him as he settled back into his chair, legs folded neatly under him. "I thought I told you, the assistant doesn't literally change into an animal. She doesn't need to." Crowley looked back at him doubtfully.

"There's at least one false chamber inside the cabinet, you silly thing." Perhaps explaining the trick more explicitly would help Crowley cotton on, or at least admit that literally transforming into a duck to be difficult was somewhat unbecoming for a 6,000 year old occult entity. "The assistant, the human assistant rather, well, ducks behind the curtain where the animal assistant is waiting, the animal assistant moves in front of the curtain, and the animal who replaces her is shorter than the point at which the spikes stop so is in no danger during the switch."

Crowley nestled his head inside his wing, as though to say, "and why would they bother?"

"It's a good illusion, Crowley. You know humans love their animals; it's got the "aww" factor!"

Crowley did not say anything about it being the "awe" factor actually, because he was a duck. Aziraphale pursed his lips anyway.

Their waitress, a lovely young lady named Jessica who was reading Religion, Philosophy & Ethics at King's College and had a little pet marimo moss named Odysseus, came by to ask if they were ready for the check. Aziraphale looked over at Crowley, who shook out his feathers, then back at Jessica. "I do think so, my dear. Take your time, of course." He smiled at her, then turned to glare at his companion. "Oh, I do hope you have a plan to carry your own things while you're transformed like this, you old snake."

A voice came from behind him. "What on earth are you talking about, angel? I've got hands, haven't I?"

Aziraphale turned around, and there was Crowley, wearing his human corporation, hands in jean pockets and dark glasses perched on his nose. Crowley walked on, to his seat, where a duck sat settling in for a bit of a ducky nap.

Crowley grinned wickedly.

"Aziraphale," he said, drawing out every syllable with demonic glee, "have you been talking to a duck? Did you think that duck was me?" He hit the constants on the word duck with his entire, very long, tongue. Aziraphale pouted as Crowley began to cackle. "Can you imagine, me, a duck? I'd at least be a black one. A duck."

By the time Jessica returned with the check, Crowley was in full hysterics, draped over his chair and three-quarters of the table in fits of laughter. Aziraphale tipped her very well.

[anotheruserwithnoname]

12 favourite things about Beetlejuice Beetlejuice

So I saw the Beetlejuice sequel over the weekend. I saw the original in the theatre nearly 40 years ago. And I admit was a bit nervous about whether the film would live up to the original, or would it be derailed by so many of the things that have caused remakes or continuations of legacy properties to fail in recent years. (Those factors vary from person to person but often boil down to either failing to recapture lightning in a bottle, or going against the spirit of the original in some way.)

I'll put in a spoiler break before I pass along my favourite things about the film, but the tl;dr is I had a blast, and I should never have doubted Tim Burton.

The following includes not only plot spoilers for B2, I also have to mention a major spoiler for the Wednesday series, so you are warned.

Favourite things about B2:

Jenna Ortega

Michael Keaton has managed the near impossible - reprising a role from decades ago without losing anything. It makes me sad that we'll never see his proper return as Batman in the now-lost Batgirl movie. I won't name specific names, but with only a couple of exceptions (most of them in Deadpool and Wolverine), so many times an actor reprising a role from years past has either failed to recapture the magic or does a good job but is still missing something that makes their reprise feel lesser in some way. You could splice together scenes of Keaton from B2 with scenes from B1 and you would be hard-pressed to tell the difference.

Jenna Ortega

Winona Ryder is terrific as the older Lydia. I loved the fact they made her a "paranormal-reality" TV star; I figured Lydia would have grown up to be either that or a goth-rock singer. I am not in favour of always darkening characters when they return after a while, but I think the idea of Lydia being haunted (literally) by her past and seeing dead people was well handled and does put a bit of a dark spin on the happy ending of B1. But in a way that works.

Jenna Ortega

For reasons best left to a google search, Jeffrey Jones was unable to appear in B2. His absence was well-handled by way of photographs, having his character lose his head, and a very clever and unexpected stop-motion sequence that at times looked like it was one of those wild AI-generated shorts.

Jenna Ortega

The change of style - the stop-motion, and the Italian art film pastiche that served as Beetlejuice's origin story - were a couple places where the film distinguished itself from the original. Same with Beetlejuice pulling a Deadpool a couple of times and talking to the audience.

Jenna Ortega. OK, seriously, she's a lot of fun in this and is a highlight of the film. My only complaint is they're not completely successful in separating her from Wednesday, both when she gets involved in a Beetlejuice-driven dance sequence, and a subplot where her character falls in love with a boy who turns out to be a villain - which is identical to what happens in Wednesday; the actors even look similar (there is the big Wednesday spoiler I warned about). That's one of the only major criticisms I have with B2, made a bit more glaring as Burton produced Wednesday and I think the film and show used the same writers. Jenna is in danger of being typecast which I'm sure she wants to avoid. I hope her star just continues to rise.

Bob. 'Nuff said.

Burn Gorman of Torchwood fame makes an unexpected appearance in the film as a preacher. He's quite funny to watch in his few scenes. He's become quite a good character actor over the years.

The Disney joke. Aside from the fact I know it'll play well with the many who have been turned off the House of Mouse for various reasons (including their treatment of various franchises and the never-ending Snow White saga), it has a different meaning when you realize that reportedly Burton had a bad experience making the live-action Dumbo for them, so this wasn't just a topical dig at Disney (like we saw in Deadpool) - this one was personal. When film scholars of the future write their books examining Burton's films and he and everyone else involved in his movies have collected their copies of the Handbook, the joke will probably get covered in quite a bit of detail, even though it comes and goes so quickly on screen.

One criticism I have is that Monica Bellucci's character doesn't really do too much. Reportedly Burton and Bellucci began dating while making the film so at least those two got something out of it. But her end was a bit overwhelming. I also felt Willem Defoe's character was underused. But if someone decided to do a spinoff of his actor-turned-underworld cop character, I think it could do well. I know both Bellucci and Defoe were playing plot maguffins - their purpose was to push things along to get to the Beetlejuice/Lydia reunion. But there could have been more. (I also didn't care for the fact no one thanked Beetlejuice for saving the lives (and souls) of Jenna's character by dealing with the boyfriend and everyone else by helping dispose of Monica. That's the only part of the film I disliked, but a minor point.)

Is B2 better than B1. I would say no, but it is an excellent film. I don't know if a third movie is justified, but the prospect of releasing a film called Beetlejuice Beetlejuice Beetlejuice may be too much temptation to ignore.

[amelias-zelda-calamity-quintet]

Magic evolution, divine blessings, and the Gerudo :]

(I already had this drafted so it's going first)

Magic Evolution, Divine Blessings, & the Gerudo w/ Princess Zelda & Hamuus

Zelda: "A curiosity in how the different races came to be? That is an immensely complicated topic. I think perhaps it would be better if I handed this off to my colleague. With his experience, he could make this more approachable than I can. Hamuus, would you mind?"

Hamuus: "Not at all, my friend. I would be happy to illuminate these lovely people. But first of all, introductions! Sav'a and salutations, I am Jeif Il Hamuus of Dirjaan, professor of arcanum and practical magics at the University of the Forum. I imagine you have some questions. You have a...Hyrulean perspective on myself."

Zelda: "I think perhaps you will be the first Gerudo man most people meet."

Hamuus: "Ah, but can you imagine a world without a face this beautiful? The sky would be dimmer, eh? But I imagine there is expectation there. Normally it is fun, the little jokes with the Hyruleans when they learn there is a world outside their borders. But in these times, I think explanation would serve us better. Let me begin then.

"First of all, we need to start the discussion with a recent science out of the universities in Rahaal, genetics. It's a matter of traits, passed down between parent to child. You most likely think of these things in terms of hair and eyes and complexion. But there is another matter to it, and that is the matter of, for the sake of this conversation, species. And for that matter, we have reason to believe that divine traits are passed along genetically as well.

"What do I mean by divine traits though? Clearly in need of explanation or one would assume I have them all. I kid, only a little, but I kid! No. At the beginning of time, the Goddesses gifted their followers with certain abilities. These divine traits are most easily identifiable among humans and the branches from them, the Hylians, the Gerudo, the Sheikah, and the Dreeka. Where each is from is not quite relevant to this discussion, but for the point, it is important to know that these divine traits are always dominant, they'll always appear given two options. Which is why when you have a human father and a Gerudo mother, you have a Gerudo child. The Gerudo's divine trait will be dominant.

"Of course, then you ask 'But Hamuus, how has the world been blessed then with your beauty? I heard there is only one Gerudo man every hundred year.' A wonderful question, I love the enthusiasm from this audience. My students should take lessons, you should charge."

Zelda: "I'm sure."

Hamuus: "But to your question. Because there is not a singular lineage to the Gerudo. Let me tell you a story. Back during the Creation, the peoples of the world were created and then sent out to be. They scattered to the winds, and built kingdoms and countries and cultures all around. Some went to the desert. There, they petitioned Din for Her blessing. She gifted it to them and so became the Gerudo.

"But we are not one people, we are many. Some, within their caravans, traveled beyond the desert. Some went out to sea, some across it, others further beyond. And some went to a kingdom you know. Hyrule. There, before the Sacred Door was closed, the magic of the Sacred Realm still spilled out from the Creation. Thus came the Hylians. And, for the Gerudo who stayed, a second blessing.

"This, so new in the world, Din saw issue. She returned to these caravans who had stayed and She said thus 'To accrue Power demands the need for sacrifice. I will give you the chance to return to what you were, or I will give you a mantle to carry to keep both.'

"Some did, they abandoned the blessings of Hyrule and became Gerudo once more. But some, led by the Dragmire family, kept both. The price that the Goddess took was the Hundred-Year King, the story you know. But only a few carry it. Of course, with two blessings, Gerudo of these families will always have children, chiefly daughters, of their lineage.

"And that brings us back to the present, and how you have been blessed yourself to come to know me, my friend. The Dirjaani, my people, we have a word for this. We call it Ivarkah, a blessed person. It can be a lineage, like the Hylians or the Gerudo, or it can be an individual, like the Hero and the Princess. From there, you have the distinctions in Gerudo. You have those with only the blessing of Din, like myself, Ivarkaq'Saya. And then you have those you might call Hyrulean Gerudo, the twice blessed, Ivarkaq'Siyu."

Zelda: "There is another lineage, isn't there?"

Hamuus: "Ah, yes, there is. Though it is not so common. As I said, divine traits are typically dominant. In an instance where both parents have traits of equal standing, it can go either way. But, because the magic law exists for the Gerudo to be Ivarkaq'Siyu, there is a chance, a very slim one at that, that a child of a Hylian and a Gerudo might have both. Ivarkaq'Si'a. Chance-blessed. In the last generation, there have been maybe ten in all of Rahaal. I cannot speak on the rest of the world."

Zelda: "That would be quite rare. Of course, even rarer is the questions on our current Ivarkaq'Siyu generation. And their missing member."

Hamuus: "Zelda, I wish I could give you better news on this. I cannot confirm anything. The man who you ask after disappeared into the Barren Lands a decade ago. Now, someone claims to be him. I cannot tell if this is truth he speaks or one evading reason's beckoning, but I will let you know when I know more. Of this, I promise."

Zelda: "Your help is appreciated, Hamuus. And your lesson as well."

Hamuus: "I hope so! And perhaps a wider view of the world for the rest of you. Should you be looking to travel it any time soon."

Zelda: "Maybe I'll have the opportunity to soon. If not me, then someone at least."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mark of a Hero (Updates on Tuesdays & Fridays, 1 of 9)

Hyrule is at peace, or so the Royal Family would have its people believe. Something is afoot in the kingdom, and someone needs to do something about it. Least likely would be Marksmen Link Sayre- a mercenary and monster hunter doing his best to get by. Until a job goes wrong, and he gets roped into the secret plans of Hyrule's princess. Now Link must play the part of the Hero to dive deeper into the mystery, and maybe stumble into a legend of his own.

AO3 - Wattpad

[kingmagnificoofrosas]

good day King Magnifico, I'm glad to be here again ^^ I have a few more questions that I would like to get answers to :3

1. Do you know any other sciences that are not related to magic? or don’t you divide them into different parts and think that magic is connected with every science?

2. have you tried to fly using magic? In general, what is your magic best suited to: telepathy, creation of objects. Do you associate magic with the spiritual power of a person or does the physical body also influence?

I also have more harmless and vital questions:

1. Do you have a favorite food? Do you even know how to cook and are there any details that should definitely be included in your diet?

2. how do you take care of your hair?

3. just honestly, maybe there is something that you would like to change about yourself? (you are gorgeous)

and the question is more of a clarification, can Queen Mirah herself answer the questions? Thanks in advance for your answer, have a nice day :3 I hope my questions are not a repetition of others🥹

Hello again! Are you enjoying your stay in my kingdom so far? Has Julie shown you around yet? Our local spring festival will last until the end of this week.

The very fist things I learned as a young boy were biology, alchemy and astronomy, since my father knew those. Later on I studied herbology, different kinds of materials, stones and such.

Magic, as I used it, wasn't necessarily tied to science but you could devide it into the elements for one. Fire, water, earth and air. I mostly worked with those elements.

Come to think of it, when I didn't create things, I used the control over the elements to aid me. Making objects levitate or bend things to create something. Earth and stones for example. That's how I built my palace mostly. Of course you have fire too. Oh I remember forming the colorful glass for my windows was a lot of fun!

The magic, like most folks call it, is absolutely a spiritual ability. My late teacher called it gifting! Because it is not by your power alone but it is something given to you by the great father. He can give it and take it. You only learn how to use it correctly. Yes, it does impact your body. Over all, this is a topic I could talk hours about.

No, I never used my abilities to fly. *chuckles* Let me put it that way - I prefered to stay on the ground.

Do I have favourite foods? Oh .... actually I'm not that much of a picky eater as long as the dish is served right.

Oh ... but I don't like snails ... oysters, frog legs and similar monstrosities!!! *shutter*

Blergh. Never understood how people can eat that stuff. Surpringly I can tell you more about the things I don't like to eat.

How do I take care of my hair? *laughs* guarded secret my dear.

He has his selfmade shampoos and stuff.

Shush! Weren't you working on things, Julie?

Mememeh 😗

*clears throat* My dear asissant. Charming isn't she.

Is there something I would like to change about myself? Deep question. Yes. I would like to be in better control of my emotions. Everything I feel, I feel very intensly. Sometimes that is good. Sometimes it feels like a heavy burden. Be less fearful ... you know ... I know healing from a trauma that intense takes time but ... sometimes I wish I could be more open ... more trusting. It got better but it's not quite how I'd like it to be.

Thank you for the compliment. I appreciate it.

Of course you can ask my wife questions too. She'll be thrilled to answer you! And don't worry. I don't mind answering questions that have been asked before. There is always something new to add.

Now, that felt like a little interview. Thank you for your interest. I hope my answers helped you. Have a nice stay! *smiles at you before turning to return inside*

[queensparklekitten]

I found your web weave about last online 7 years ago and scp 1762 (And I Love It), and I noticed it said you can’t reblog unless you were from the SGE site. What is that exactly?

*looks up from my drink, in the corner of the bar*

So. You wanna know about the SGE site, huh? Well.

Once upon a time, there was an online community.

Fandom forum, though the Open Chat one (equivalent of a #general channel in a discord server) was by far the most used. You got a book you read when you were 12 that changed your life? SGE's the acronym for what was that book for me. You might've seen the movie adaptation on Netflix a couple years back. I really waited seven years for that... I'm getting off topic. Back to the website.

The userbase was in the 8-17 age range, 90% girls, many of us the kind of people who devoured books like it was nothing in our then-ongoing preteen years. The few moderators never even looked at us unless we reported a glitch, spammer, or bigot for them to deal with, so we had no adult supervision.

Open Chat was used for, among other things, the most chaotic unhinged roleplay you can imagine. We got really into it. Wild parties that lasted days, food fights that quickly escalated into the hunger games, everything to do with those living shadows, Bob the alien, the Potato Kingdom, many of us had pets or imaginary friends doing this alongside us, I'm barely scratching the surface here, if I were to try to explain it all we'd be here for weeks. Quoting the Bee Movie script or singing certain songs had a tendency to cause all hell to break loose paranormally, one time it opened a portal to the underworld. It was the most fun ever. There was a reason we'd greet newcomers with "try not to die".

Aside from the chaos, there was contests where we'd reply with images of dresses or cute animals or what else have you, lots of clubs based around various things, people would sing (post song lyrics, sometimes roleplaying whole flashy performances) and post fun questions for everyone to answer and stories and neat videos we found and really good poetry and so, so much more that we didn't archive because we just assumed it would always be there.

It's where I met a lot of my closest friends- hell, it was the only place where I regularly got invited to participate in anything. I don't think there's anyone on that site who didn't forge friendships there. It's also how I got into quite a lot of songs and books and shows, and how I learned HTML formatting. That site was my home. It was the best part of my life for years.

You know how online friends are, though. Sometimes they disappear without a trace, a warning, or an explanation. Or their parents forbid them from going on the site because they think online chat rooms are dangerous.

I joined at 12. By the time I was nearing age 15, most of my friends had disappeared without a trace, never to return. I was one of the very few users to join in 2016 who was still active. The site wasn't abandoned, there were new people everywhere, but...

I don't pretend to understand the why of it, but the magic just. Started fading, I suppose. The community was falling apart. The roleplay got more stale and repetitive and often died down before it went anywhere. It all slowly declined and decayed and became a shell of itself. A hollow mimicry of what we once had. It wasn't really fun anymore, and I found myself wondering what was left to stay for. Just got worse in this regards, up until the website's final days, even after the rest of the userbase started becoming aware of it.

Eventually one day, the Open Chat started glitching hard. It had done that before, many times, and always been fixed. That time, though, it went down for repairs and never came back up. They said they'd bring it back, and they never did. Here's the thing, though- our posts all disappeared. When other forums on that website got closed around then, we could still see the posts by going through our post histories, we just couldn't reply to them. Open Chat and every last record of what we did there just vanished entirely, like it never existed.

It never even got crawled by the Wayback Machine.

...Now that I mention it, tomorrow's actually the anniversary of when Open Chat went down... how the FUCK was that five years ago it does NOT feel like it's been anywhere near that long.

Anyways.

During this time, the very few (like, there was maybe 2 at most) moderators had begun responding to drama by banning offsite links, followed by, several months after we lost our Open Chat, banning off-topic (non-SGE-related) discussions entirely, which sparked riots and a petition and they knew what it meant to the userbase, even to newer people who'd only known the comparatively lifeless version, we told the admins as hard as we could, and they did nothing. Well, other users told them anyways. I knew the site was beyond saving and thus didn't do anything but listen to music and make "let me guess, your home?" memes.

We also lost the ability to make posts in our profiles that weren't in any forums but could be seen if you went through the user's post history.

The official end was the "revamp" of the website, that was just a shutdown. They deleted everything that was left of it and all the records of what we were, and made a completely new website that the old one's url now redirects to. Though at least this time they had the courtesy to announce it a month and a half in advance so we could load as much as we could of what remained into archive.org during those weeks. There's no forum feature on the new site, and user data wasn't transferred. I never made an account on the new site. Why would I?

You can probably guess by reading those lyrics and asofterworld screencaps that I, and at least some other users I'm still in contact with, never really got over the death of that community.

That last image in my webweave is a screenshot of the page that now comes up whenever you type in the url for a forum or an old site member's profile and hit enter.

[aladaylessecondblog]

Mousetrap, pt. 7

Tav was eager to latch onto any topic that wasn't Raphael, eager to find anything to think about that wasn't that well coifed head turning its smug gaze in her direction. And the first thing she could think to latch onto that wasn't the road ahead or how far off Cald was flying was, oddly enough - what Minthara had said.

Zes'diira...

...your own sister...

She thought back to the druid grove, the first thing she remembered. They had nursed her back to health--a smiling dwarf named Redleaf foremost among them, a dwarf with vitiligo like her (the same face the Emperor chose to wear later) who was happy to answer her questions. Happy to fill in the gaps he could from her absent memory.

"You are a Seldarine who nearly fell in battle against the recent Lloth-sworn drow raid," he'd said. It had been told to her so often she assumed it must be true. "The rest of those with you passed in the same battle...you are lucky we managed to save you."

Her injuries had been many, and grave ones too, but they were healed up well enough, though it took her some time to fully recover. A little progress at a time, Redleaf had said. He lead her outside to bear the sun that still scorched her sensitive eyes, dismissing her confusion at the pain as being from burn wounds or allergies. He it was that taught her to speak to the animals, to feel the life growing around her...

...and now she wondered, these years later - had he lied? Had the entire grove lied?

Was she...one of them?

She put her hand into her pocket to reach for her flask and tensed up when instead she felt the devil-faced brooch Raphael had given her.

You know I can give you all the answers you need, Tav could almost hear him saying the words. She clenched at the brooch, but looked ahead--saw Halsin, and quickened her pace to catch up with him.

"I hate to ask this of you, knowing...what you went through," she said in a quiet voice, "But the drow in charge of the goblins...mentioned someone...and I want to know if it's someone we--we should be concerned about."

"Hmm? What do you want to know?"

The woman was a Baenre, so...

"When--when you were held in Menzoberranzan, did you ever hear of a Zes'diira Baenre?"

"Hear of her!" Halsin gave a laugh. "If Zes'diira Baenre is to join the cause of the Absolute then truly, we must worry for all our lives. The woman was a fearsome thing to behold, from what I heard the matron say. And as much a plotting snake as any other priestess of Lloth in that city. I would venture to say - even worse."

"Worse?" Tav gulped slightly.

"She was always plotting something, the matron would say. She was a Baenre from lower on the family line, but had grand ambitions of being Matron...and many of those above her died mysterious deaths. Poison, falls..."

"How did they hear so much?"

"She worked with the Matron that held me, briefly...to obtain some particularly quick poisons. It was whispered she used them on some aunts of hers, to remove another few obstacles between her and the position she coveted."

"A kinslayer...that's--that's awful."

(Her hand was clutching at the brooch, her fingers moving over its grinning surface at a constant rate.)

"If there was a priestess of Lloth to embody all the evils that would come to mind when one thinks of such clerics, it would be her."

Tav nodded, slowly. "She...she sounds like pure evil."

She looked down the path ahead, and then glanced back.

"We will reach the swamp soon, my home isn't much farther."

"The hag's home, wasn't it?" Halsin asked.

"It was, but I took it for my own and put it to better use." Tav smiled weakly, and having noted that the others were a short distance behind, whispered then, "I knew the nautiloid would fall after a few years, so...I thought here the best place to wait. I'm quite at home in the swamp, the grove in which I learned my druidic magic was settled in one."

"Have you never tried to return?" he asked. "After...you came back, I mean."

"I didn't want to travel with a child..." she shook her head, "Cald was only three when we came back in time, and...I wanted to keep him safe."

"You would do anything for his safety," Halsin replied in a soft tone.

"I have done anything...everything...for his safety," Tav replied.

It all makes sense now, my ill luck in love, in everything I value in life. It is no more than I deserve. If I was Zes'diira Baenre...I...I was...am...a monster.

It made sense, too, why she felt Ilmater's demands for mercy so keenly. If she had been shown it despite everything, how could she not show it to others?

Her hand felt suddenly wet, and she drew it out her pocket to see--blood. She'd been clutching the devil-faced brooch so tightly its horns sliced into her skin.

"Here, let me--" Halsin reached for it, and lay one hand over her blood-smeared palm. "It's good to see your face again, to...I know it couldn't have been anything but painful, to realize you weren't remembered. Still, I wish you would not have bought my memory with your agony."

"It was nothing," Tav shrugged, and kept her gaze on her hand.

"It was not nothing," Halsin said as they went on, "That devil--"

Tav cringed slightly; the word seemed to echo in her head when he spoke it. But he didn't seem to notice, and went on.

"--he will tear you down if you insist on seeing it that way. I don't want to see you harmed because you overestimate your ability to withstand Raphael's..."

There he trailed off.

"...attentions." Tav finished. "It's not nothing, but I...I could bear it enough if it meant no longer being alone. I was willing to pay nearly any price for that."

"And well he knew it."

There was a pause.

"This husband of yours, have you done it for him? I can only guess he would feel as I do."

She shut her eyes and walked a little ahead, noting that they were getting close. The tricky footwork in the mud was nearly at an end.

"No. My husband wouldn't want me if he knew Raphael had been at me." She knew it, knew it in her bones as deeply as she did that she was a drow, could already see the look of disgust on her Enver's face. Even if it had been done to keep Cald safe--

(you know he would never want you again)

"How could someone who claimed to love you possibly blame you for--" Halsin stopped there, as Wyll came forward.

"We should form a plan to deal with Raphael, ahead of time," he said, "As a devil--"

(Again, that strange warped echo in her head, solely with that one word.)

"--and knowing he remembers, he will no doubt have taken extra precautions this time around. Encounters with him can only be more dangerous."

"Of course." Tav nodded. "I should be sure to take Shadowheart with us, but at the same--what happened the last time, I don't want to risk Halsin or Astarion losing their heads."

"Mind you, that was because of Orin, who is on our side now, far as I can see," Wyll countered, "But they employed a large number of shapeshifters, so...so we should be careful."

"We will be." There was a pause. "Ah, here we are."

Tav stopped where she was once they reached what had been her home, and directed everyone indoors. "I can gather us some things from my garden, and...much as you may not care for the taste, catfish are plentiful here."

"I can handle that," Wyll said with a slight grin, "I learned the art of noodling from someone on my travels, and--"

"Just don't let the catfish swallow you whole. Some of them out here grow to monstrous size," Tav replied.

She didn't want to lose them...any of them. Even by accident. Especially not by accident.

She directed them down to the little waterfall lower down to refill their waterskins and canteens, and took one of her baskets outside and headed into the vegetable garden. It looked like someone had been by to take a few things, but left enough for those that would come after. Perhaps the tiefling group...

Tav took a deep breath and went for the root vegetables first. Something about digging in the dirt felt...appropriate.

A few footsteps. She stood bolt upright, and turned to see--

--a Gur?

Of course. Of course, they were always going to meet one, weren't they? There had been one the first time she had been here. He smelled of something vaguely foul, metallic, and yet sweet at the same time, in a sickly sort of way. Her nose wrinkled in slight disgust.

"Ah, stranger...forgive the aroma." The Gur gave a slight smile. "Powdered iron-vine. An old hunter's trick. Most monsters will think twice before making a meal of me."

"Would that I had some to give you, but I've never grown such things here."

"You're a...monster hunter?" Astarion's sneering tone sounded suddenly off nearby, and went on with, "I'm surprised. I thought all Gur were vagrant cut-throats."

Wanting to keep things cordial, or at least less hostile, Tav said, "I've heard many terrible things about the Gur, but I've met enough to know the talk is--well, let us not speak of that. Did you say you were a monster hunter? What is your quarry at this moment?"

"I'm hunting a vampire spawn," the Gur said, "And it is a little too bright for any of you to be my prey. "Oh, and a drow of...particular appearance."

There was a pause. Tav tensed at his study of her face.

"Tell me about the vampire spawn you're hunting," she said.

"His name is Astarion, but I fear he's gone to ground. I was hoping the hag of these lands could help me, but--"

"The hag is no longer living," Tav said quietly, "These are my lands now, and she shall not plague you. When you find this Astarion, you'll do what...kill him?"

"Not this time. My orders are to capture him."

"Oh, and bring him where, exactly?" Astarion piped up.

"Baldur's Gate. My people wait for me there."

"Only a spawn?" Tav questioned, and shifted on her feet.

"Well, a spawn can still rip one's throat out if he chose," Astarion went on.

"Only weak - when compared to their masters. During the day, we have the advantage. But at night, when they hunt? You will not find a more deadly quarry. I have heard, too, that he is in league with this drow."

"What do you know of this drow?"

"The phrase 'bleeding heart' was used in conjunction with her name, that she displays a kindness expected from those who worship Ilmater...that she hides from a vampire lord of Baldur's Gate...and..." The Gur shifted himself, and put his hands in his pockets. "That she looks painted, from the effects of vitiligo."

"Astarion, what do you think of this?" she asked suddenly.

"That's Astarion?" The Gur looked shocked, and prematurely drew the dagger from his pocket. "No, impossible."

"These days I'm making the impossible look easy," Astarion gestured vaguely. "May I?"

He gave her a look. She knew that look--the last time, they'd been able to avoid this. There hadn't been so much at stake, Cald hadn't even existed...and her next thought was her son, lost to Cazador's clutches, used as part of his ascension--

Fury burned in her chest, but she clenched a fist and managed to only give a nod.

"Excellent."

It was over quickly--Astarion cut the Gur's throat and at Tav's urging dragged him behind the treeline to finish the job. With shaking hands she went back to her vegetable gathering, and relaxing only when Astarion returned.

"Is he well hidden?" she asked timidly.

"Well enough. None of our little party is going to look back there, I'm sure, unless Halsin decides to...look about."

"We shouldn't need to worry about that as yet." She paused, and feeling the need to appear more at ease, added, "So...there's a monster hunter after you."

"Well...not anymore. Which is all that matters, really."

"Suppose there are others?"

"Oh, I'm sure there will be. If Cazador sent one peon after me...or us I should say, he'll send another."

"I've seen worse," she said, digging up another bundle of carrots, "But rest assured, no Gur is going to touch you in my company."

"How kind of you. Honestly, would you make that offer if Cazador weren't after you as well?"

"I would," she looked up. "Whatever sins you may have committed, his are tenfold at least. And he was responsible for my husband's death, by freeing the--the maniac that killed him. I have reasons of my own to want him obliterated. And trust me - he WILL be. You're safe with me."

"Ha - safe! You think I'm safe! Do you know the power a vampire lord possesses? He can change shape, turn into mist, call wolves to do his bidding, like they're nothing. He could walk into our camp tonight like it's nothing and kill you with his bare hands. And you'd be lucky if death was the worst thing that happened to you."

"Cazador will be lucky if death is the only thing I do to him," Tav replied in an icy tone, "Daylight is a very effective tool against a vampire lord - I've used it before. How would you like to see his eyes burned out? How would you like him blind, so you can take him apart yourself?"

"Have you been drinking?" Astarion gave a slight laugh. "That's the sort of overconfidence that will get us all killed."

"Believe what you will," she replied, "I fear only one man in all of creation and it is certainly not Cazador...as far as myself is concerned. Were he ever to lay hands on my son - I would rip through Ao himself, if I had to. For his Rite of Ascension--"

"Rite of what?"

She paused then, looking with shaking hands down at the basket of vegetables. The gap of silence was deafening, and she felt swallowed whole by it.

"When I rescued the spawn that set Cazador against me, I saw a set of scars on his back," she said, "He had briefly mentioned you, and that you had the same scars he did."

Tav took a deep breath.

"Would you like to know what they say?"

Astarion was quiet for a minute or two, and his tone stayed in a similar fashion when he spoke, "What do they say?"

Tav explained the Rite of Ascension, and what it would enable Cazador to do. Explained, the purpose that the numerous victims Astarion brought to his master would serve. "You are to be a tool in his quest to ascend the limitations of his current state."

"Of course I am. Of course I am!" Astarion gave a despairing sort of laugh. "Oh, you have definitely stepped in it, haven't you, my dear? You stole one of Cazador's tools, I hope you know what you're getting into."

"I do," she replied, "And I hope you see why our staying on friendly terms is so important. Speaking of...I assume you won't need to feed again tonight?"

"Why, because of the Gur? You think I would let my lips touch one of their necks?"

"Forgive me for assuming," she said, "Just let me know if you need it again. So...was there something you needed, when you walked out here?"

"Halsin thought you needed someone watching your back, and he seemed to think I was the perfect one to do it. Given your inability to produce an ounce of care for your own skin, I can see why he thought so. You need someone to teach you self-interest."

"My interest in others is what keeps me safe."

"Safe?" Astarion laughed. "You think you're SAFE? With that tadpole in your head? With Cazador after you? I don't know if you're brave, deluded, or just plain stupid."

"No," she said, standing up with her basket half-full. "I'm backed against the wall, and if Cazador thinks he's taking anything more from me than he already has--"

Tav stopped and took a deep breath. It was hard not to unload everything on him, but this was not the Astarion she had known before, not by a long shot, and spilling all of it now would do neither of them any good.

There was still something of the old feeling there. Ember-dim, though, and burning low.

"You're impossible," Astarion said. "I'm going back inside."

"Just as you please."

---------------------------

They stocked up quite well with what was in her stores but she insisted on leaving some things behind for any who may need room or board later. They would have all set out right away, but a storm rolled up with such a downpouring of rain that there was no choice but to stay the night. Everyone seemed of a mind to make their beds in the upper floors, which agreed well enough with Tav.

"Ch'k," Lae'zel said, looking out the front door, "We could make good time...we should make for the creche tomorrow, as soon as light breaks. Regardless of whether or not the rain has ceased."

"It will be easier that way, than trying to travel through a swamp in such ugly weather," Shadowheart said.

"Darkness might be your ally in any other circumstances, but here..." Tav shook her head.

"I couldn't even fly in this weather," Cald said.

A watch was established, and those who weren't on it went straight to sleep - save for Tav, who mentioned wanting to look over some potions she'd left down below.

Down she walked, past where Auntie Ethel's victims had once made their home, past the little waterfall, down and down and down until she reached the place where Mayrina's cage had been.

She took a deep, shaky breath, and reached into her pocket.

Tav knew it was unwise, especially so soon after--what had happened after the tiefling party.

But she wanted answers. She wanted to know if there was a chance she was feeling unnecessary guilt. She wanted to lighten the already overwhelming burden on her shoulders, if possible. The yoke that he would lay on them was - burdensome, but familiar. She knew how to bear it better than this gnawing uncertainty.

She choked back a sob, lifted the devil-faced brooch from her pocket, held it between both hands, and spoke.

"Raphael."

Tav regretted the word as soon as it left her lips, but she had to school her expression quickly, for the devil himself appeared not thirty seconds later.

"My, my, it certainly didn't take you long to come running back to me, now did it?"

She didn't answer for a moment, but knowing he'd demand it said, in a voice that shook despite all her effort, "I don't want memory restored, I want...I want to know--can answer any of my questions?"

"I believe I just did."

"I mean--" Tav took another, shakier breath. "I spoke to Halsin today about...something Minthara said, about...who I might have been."

"Oh?" Raphael's smirk only deepened. "Yet you do not want that memory restored, if it in fact exists?"

"No."

"Of course not. You are a virtuous little cleric, aren't you...faithful to all the ways of Ilmater. Surely one like yourself would never have stooped to the level of the Lloth-sworn."

"Can--can you answer my questions or not?"

"I have a rather pressing engagement to attend to at present," Raphael replied, "So I will spare you three questions, and ask nothing more of you in return than answers to three of my own."

"And if I should refuse to answer?"

"You know better than that, little mouse."

Yes...I do, don't I...

"Do you agree?" he asked, after a short silence.

Tav gulped. "I agree."

Raphael then gestured, indicating she should speak first.

"Am I...am I Zes'diira Baenre?"

Raphael looked at her with an expression that confused and frightened her, for she could not explain it. Sympathy. Or at least more sympathy than he had ever shown her before. It was false. Of course it was false.

"You were."

The sentence hit her like a physical blow, even though it was only two words.

"Are you afraid of me?" Raphael asked, himself unmoving.

"I am. I'd have to be stupid not to be."

"Have I...have I been..." She was trembling now, and found she couldn't stop. "...have I been a kinslayer?"

"Many times over," Raphael replied, before pivoting into his own question, a question which crushed her utterly, "How does that make you feel?"

"Like a monster," she answered in a faint voice.

"You were only willing to do what you had to do, to get what you want. No worse than many others. I'm rather proud of you, you know."

She wanted to turn away, leave the room, run, felt she was ready to leap out of her skin.

Tav stayed where she was.

Eyes closed. Eyes open.

"What lead to my being--in the druid grove in the first place?"

"You lead a surface raid in the fashion of many others conducted by the Underdark drow," he said, "You were betrayed by your own kind."

A pause. He looked over her, expression unchanging until he seemed to get an idea.

"What do you want?"

"What do you mean?" the question was so unexpected she couldn't think of another way to answer it.

"I mean," Raphael said, his voice sinking into a purr, "To give yourself peace of mind, right now, to make you utterly content, what do you want?"

"I--I don't know," Tav stammered, "I would say that I wanted my old life back, but..."

"The Archduchess of Baldur's Gate...pearls and silks, enough wealth to shower the beggars in kindness, and enough guards to keep your boy safe for all time. That wretched Banite at your side, and in your bed. Everything just as you had it before...oh, but that would require three of your friends to be dead, wouldn't it? And you would never wish for something of that sort."

He paused, and fix her with an absolutely diabolical grin.

"Would you?"

She was under no obligation to answer, she knew that. But she might as well have been, for on sight of the grin all she could do was answer.

"No."

"Oh, look at me. Indulging my own curiosity," Raphael gave a little laugh, "And nearly breaking our agreement! The things you do to me, mouse. Now, I really must be going - but ask me something, quickly. We have played this game before, you and I, and I shall not let you trick me again."

She cast her mind about, and thinking of him, of the House of Hope--

"If I handed you the Crown tomorrow, would I be no better off than Hope herself?"

"If you handed me the Crown tomorrow, you would never want or worry again."

He lifted one of her hands to his lips, pressed a kiss to her knuckles, and a moment later he was gone.

He seemed to know she would not hand it over in the deal he had originally planned. Yet he seemed confident she would give it to him at some point...

Why?

She let the question consume her mind as she made the long walk back up, back to the bed that the rest of the party had kindly left empty.

(A look down at his smirking face, the feel of his hands on her body, of his--)

Tav choked back a gag, and turned away, dragging the blanket and pillow to the floor. The blanket was pulled over her head and she wept silently until sleep rose to claim her.

[beansprouts]

lil reaction / theory / criticism thought dump because i just finally finished The Calling; spoilers

Right away, the first and most glaring thing for me: in the DA novels, Ga*der is unable to write badass women without tying their agency to a man and then domesticating them, and it drives me insane. It's been a while since I read The Stolen Throne, and I remember Rowan primarily as a badass knight, but here, only a few years later, Maric believes she enjoyed being a wife and mother more than she ever enjoyed fighting (and she died of Padmé Amidala syndrome before the events of this novel of course). Genevieve is a nuanced character, but one of her defining motivators her whole life was becoming a Grey Warden warrior (and then the fierce commander she is in this novel) and yet we're supposed to believe in her lotus eater dream she's perfectly content as a placid housewife? Fiona is an excellent heroine, but even she ends up tragically producing a noble baby, blond and human of course (not even going to touch the bullshit racism of "the child of an elf and a human is a human"), whose future is given more framing in the last chapter than novel protagonist Fiona herself.

I hope I don't need to explain how frustrating it is to read books set in a world that claims to treat men and women equally, but then only frames women in the narrative when they happen to be wives, mothers, or sisters of important men.

On the topic of Fiona's future: I knew from Inquisition that she was the only person ever cured of the Calling, and I was curious about HOW and hoping for at least a bit of discussion of such a lore-significant detail. We get precious little, though.

But I wanted to share my thoughts since I saw discussion of it on my dash. I am pretty confident that the taint was somehow passed onto baby Alistair for the following reasons:

- It doesn't make sense for the Architect's magic to have cured the taint, since we never see such an effect with Utha, who experienced this magic for much longer (from the time of The Calling to Awakening). Besides, it's implied that the magic accelerated a magical transformation to a darkspawn-like state; Fiona lost the taint entirely and never reached darkspawn status like Bregan, Utha, or Genevieve.

- Given how Maric is framed in these books, I was also wary of a narrative that he magically cured her Grey Wardenism with his Royal Purity Dick. But the timing for that theory doesn't work. Fiona continues to see more corruption spreading across her body after they have slept together.

- Weird shit happening to corrupted souls because of sex (and particularly sex as conception) echoes the Dark Ritual in Dragon Age: Origins. There's a thematic juxtaposition between both prequels and Origins of sex in places of battle, darkspawn, death, birth, and magic not fully understood. I think the intention is partially to set a Dark Fantasy For Adults With Violence and Sex! atmosphere that subsequent installments have moved away from.

- It's a bit messy (why was Morrigan's capturing of the dark god's soul instant versus the loss of Fiona's taint only happening later?) but I think it's the theory that makes the most sense both in-universe and thematically.

Speaking of the taint and the power of the Architect, do we ever learn how Duncan's dagger works, supposedly made of the same magic as the Architect's? Is it the same dagger you can retrieve in Return to Ostagar (which does bonus damage to dragons for some reason)?

I actually loved the character arcs of Genevieve and Bregan. I loved learning slowly about the dynamics of their complicated sibling relationship over the course of the novel, culminating in several twists.

...although Genevieve and Clarel in Inquisition, I can't help noticing, are very similar.

Really the more Ga*der I read the more I realize his novels just use the same few tropes over and over. It's not quite as bad as Alex*s Kennedy but it does become tiresome.

Take a shot every time he uses the word "swoop" or a character heroically jumps on top of a monster.

More positively: I love Loghain as a character. One could frame the two books and Origins as a character study of Loghain specifically: what kind of experiences shape a man with both the strengths and prejudices that lead him to be a badass here but the tyrant we see in Origins? I found it especially juicy that he was able to save Maric, Duncan, and Fiona here due to his suspicion of the Orlesians manipulating the Grey Wardens being correct- the very suspicion that becomes a self-destructive paranoia in Origins.

I was able to identify Julien and Nicholas as lovers almost instantly (I suspect this is true for many queer readers, though it's framed as a shocking revelation) and their outcome is beautifully heartbreaking. Knowing Ga*der is gay himself, I don't really see it as an instance of Bury Your Gays (although such a criticism would be valid I think, since they're the only gay characters in these two books and they do die first). To me the message feels like: gay love like this, however beautiful, is doomed by a hateful society and can only survive in dreams. And that's fucking tragic... but also extremely Gen X of an LGBT take.

Because, let's be real, Maric and Loghain were at least a little bit married all along.

Aside: Duncan's little accidental hookup with the random circle mage was very cute.

I tried to ship Maric and Fiona, I really did, but their romance felt so bland to me that I was more invested in Duncan's aforementioned one-page tryst. I'm not sure why. Maric and Fiona grew to trust each other naturally enough. But Fiona kissing him felt less like romance and more like an outburst of exhaustion and loneliness; all of her subsequent longing to be with him just felt out of character.

Duncan and Fiona's friendship was delightful, though.

I went into this book excited to get more Duncan (I have a Grey Warden OC who is Duncan's bastard daughter lol. so much for women not related to powerful men :P) and I found his backstory compelling as I'd hoped. My only issue is that a supposed Orlesian speaks with an American accent in-game, because if Duncan had a French accent Loghain's anti-Orlesian fearmongering would make more sense to newcomers to the world, but that's a DAO problem really, and if I'm to start pointing out linguistics issues we'd be here all summer.

Utha's signing I found surprisingly well done (from my perspective, though I'm not in a signing nor nonverbal community).

Shout out to the Fereldan Circle for apparently attracting evil megalomaniacs like Kirkwall attracts blood mages. I wonder if young mages had evil mage takeover drills like I had growing up for bomb threats in public school.

[aretaix]

Don't Go Where I Can't Follow

Chapter 1: A Reunion

A few years after graduating from the School of Sorcery, Lala receives a letter from an old friend requesting her aid in a dungeon-crawl. Set in an canon-divergent universe following Final Exam.

Read on SqWA

Topics: Lala/Arle, Lala & Camus, Camus & Arle, unrequited love, canon divergence, canon typical violence

There will still be some references to the Puyo Puyo continuity.

Word count: 1.6k

It all started with a letter. A letter from beyond the village, at that. Lala had never stepped foot outside of the village all of her life -- nothing besides a few odd jobs on errands to nearby villages. So a letter from outside of town, addressed to her of all people, was quite unusual. Though now she was regretting even opening the thing in the first place. Sitting in a dingy, dark pub wasn't how she'd been planning on spending her afternoon off. But... It's not like she really had plans.

Her life had devolved into a monotonous routine: help her parents at the temple, help out at the school, do errands and run deliveries here and there, and on it went.

It really had become dull without Arle to entertain everyone with tales of her adventures. ...Lala didn't realize just how long she was going to be away.

"Is Lala here?" A familiar voice came from the entrance. It wasn't the voice of the blue armor clad girl she was thinking of, but the voice of a dashing young man with dark hair and blue eyes that matched his magical earpieces. "Thank you," he thanked the barkeep and approached Lala's table, waving at her. "Lala! It's good to see you." He approached her for a hug, which Lala awkwardly returned after scrambling to her feet.

"Camus!" Lala blushed, "Wh-what are you doing here?" Camus let go of her and pat her head, causing her cheeks to redden more. "I received a letter in the mail today, can you guess who it was from?" Lala hid her dumbfounded expression, she thought Arle had only asked for her! Her letter never mentioned Camus!

"Uhh, was it your grandma?"

"Hahah! An excellent guess, but no, no, it was from our friend Arle! She's coming back after all this time, and she wants me to help her on a nearby dungeon crawl!" Camus looked like he was about to burst with excitement. Sometimes, Lala felt like she was the older between the two. He really hadn't changed even after all this time, always bombastic and wearing that stupid, silly, dreamy smile on his face. He had been their senior at the School of Sorcery, but he never had any dreams of exploring beyond his village to expand his knowledge. Somehow, he seemed perfectly happy staying behind to assist with running the school, and at this rate, he was on track to become the next headmaster.

"Oh, what a coincidence!" Lala turned around to hide her reddening face and pulled her own letter from her satchel. "She sent me one too!"

"She mentioned you in my letter, that's why I was looking for you." Lala's head turned around quick as lightning.

"She what?! She never mentioned you in my letter..." Lala frantically skimmed it again. This was so embarrassing...!

“I think she wrote mine after yours, haha, it sounded like she was worried that you wouldn't come along without...some kind of incentive?" He shrugged.

"Not sure what I have to offer you, though." Lala grinned in an effort to disguise her gritted teeth.

"Great," she said sarcastically. "Damn it Arle! And damn it Camus! How can you both be so boneheaded in two different ways?!" she thought to herself.

"Well, it'll be fun to see her! Let's both do our best, Lala!" He struck a pose that could be called...heroic if it wasn't so lame. She sighed, dreamily as she could. Though she couldn't shake the feeling that he'd just become lamer and lamer as the years went by.

"Yeah, let's give it our all," Lala said halfheartedly.

"Hey, you two!" The two mages turned around to see a familiar face. Arle grabbed Camus' hand and pulled him into a one-armed hug, who returned it gladly, and then did the same for Lala, who returned it...awkwardly.

"It's so great to see you after so long!" Arle beamed at them. Her skin had tanned from being in the sun so long, and her hair had a certain glow to it that it lacked before. She looked the same and yet, something about her almost blinded Lala.

"So, how have things been? I've really wanted to write more, but you know how I am."

"Things have been peaceful around here," Camus said. "A bit too peaceful, if you ask me. I was delighted to receive your letter the other day."

"Good!" Arle clapped her hands in delight. "I saw this dungeon was just nearby, so I knew it'd be perfect to invite you two along. And it's the best way to catch up."

"Guu!" A mysterious voice chimed in, and Lala realized that a small, furry creature with long ears and a strange jewel set into its forehead was standing attentively at Arle's feet.

"You're still hanging out with that...thing?" Lala pointed hesitantly to the yellow-furred creature.

"Huh? You mean Carby? Of course it's still with me!" Arle scratched its forehead. "I go everywhere with it. I don't think I could imagine adventuring without the little guy anymore."

"It's excellent to have a companion with you on your travels, I say," Camus exclaimed and raised a tankard. "Arle, would you like a drink as well?"

"Camus! This isn't a time to be drinking," Lala scolded before Arle could respond.

"What? It's a special occasion to see an old friend. Besides, we're old enough now." Camus nudged one of the containers against Lala's shoulder, but her nose wrinkled at the bitter smell of the alcohol.

"Haha, well, I suppose it wouldn't be any good for a temple girl to be caught drinking in the middle of the day." Lala rolled her eyes while Camus and Arle both laughed, her ears turning red from the conversation topic.

"Hahaha! Man this really brings me back, but I'll have to turn you down on the drink offer, I'm kind of getting sick of the stuff really..." Arle refrained from saying more when she felt the daggers from Lala’s glare.

"A-Anyway, let's get down to what I really wanted to ask you guys about!" From her worn bag, she pulled out a map covered in familiar and unfamiliar runes. Evidently, a ruin was unearthed near their home village and word was traveling fast! Adventurers were already flocking to it by the dozens, and Arle wanted to be among the first to get there before everything cool about it was snatched up by treasure hunters and merchants. It was unusual for her to dungeon crawl with others, Arle had always been a solo player, but it seemed that she wanted some extra muscle and support to back her up in case things got hairy.

"So? What do you guys think?" Lala and Camus looked at each other, then nodded back at Arle.

"Of course we'll help you," Lala reassured her.

"Yes, yes, anything for a friend of ours," Camus chimed in.

"Thanks, I knew I could count on you guys!" The three cheered and joined hands, and Carbuncle jumped onto the table and put his paw in with the rest.

******

The sun sunk below the treeline, tinting the sky a rich red. Together the party of three adventurers left the pub and walked to their respective homes. Arle was eager to see her mother again, so she dashed on without the other two. With Carbuncle in tow, the other two mages watched her bound off with the energy of a 6 year old girl. She found herself almost wanting to chase after her, but stopped when she realized she was with Camus. Her. Alone with Camus. She just registered the situation she was in. With her hands gripping her skirt, she looked up at him and smiled, grateful that the low light was hiding her flushed expression.

"Shall we head home?"

"Yes, let's." They walked side by side, occasionally interrupted by other villagers making their way home and by children playing in the low light, trying to make the most of the sun before it went to bed. Lala's breathing gradually steadied and she stole another glance at his face. He'd grown into such a fine young man, and her parents had always asked her if her childhood crush would ever bloom into a true romance, but...she'd never managed to work up the courage. The question could just never come up naturally, and there was always an apprehensive feeling that followed her when she thought of her love for Camus...

"She's certainly grown, hasn't she?" Camus broke the silence.

“Huh?"

"Arle," he clarified. "She's the same at her core, of course but it seems her time away from home has truly honed her into a fine sorceress."

"I suppose so... She could still stand to learn some manners," Lala harrumphed and turned her nose up, only for Camus to laugh.

"Ah, but then she wouldn't be Arle, would she?" "...You're right," Lala murmured dejectedly. The tomboy who just won the spirits' favor by sheer luck was really Arle, through and through, always going wherever the wind took her -- but something about her now really blinded Lala...metaphorically.

Somehow, the way she had grown in the few years she was away from the village made Lala want to see more of her. Unlike Camus, who had stayed in the village his whole life and was right there for Lala to have a life with, there was an urgency for her to be with Arle's side. Where had this come from?

“Ah, here I am. I'll see you tomorrow, bright and early!" Her train of thought was interrupted by Camus taking his leave and walking down the path to his home. She waved wordlessly to him with a small smile stuck on her rosy cheeks, but unlike earlier, she felt no desire to chase him down the path.

[malsfefanfics]

OC Tea Party Guide: Medee

Tea Preferences:

Crescent-Moon Tea

Bergamot

 Four-Spice Blend

 Chamomile

Almyran Pine Needles

Ideal Topics

A dinner invitation…

Books you've read recently…

The Opera…

Close calls…

Dreams of lazy days…

I heard some gossip…

I'm counting on you…

Past laughs…

School days…

Monastery mysteries…

The view from the bridge…

The library's collection…

Hoping for your future…

Heart-racing memories…

Advancements in Faith magic…

Topics that will end the tea party early:

Being the perfect knight…

Cute monks…

The existence of Crests…

First crushes…

Final Comments and Valid Responses;

"Two men row to the center of a lake. Only one returns in the boat alive. A fine tale, isn't it?"

Laugh

Sip tea

"You know, you have the makings of a decent witch. I could teach you everything I know. What do you say?"

Agree

Disagree

"Oh, these weary bones do grow tired more by the day. Perhaps the life of a hermit after the war would be ideal."

Disagree

Admonish

"Potion brewing and the preparation of food and drink is one and the same, when you stop and look at it step by step."

Nod

Agree

Sip Tea

"You know, you remind me quite a bit of my younger brother. He too was a soul of few words. And he was also quite the heartbreaker."

Sip tea

Blush

"You truly are too trusting for your own good. I could have poisoned the tea at any point and you would be none the wiser until it is too late."

Laugh

"I cannot stay long, you know. As the war drags on, I am needed more frequently with the other medics. It has started to affect my research. Perhaps we should discuss this with her Majesty?"

Praise

Agree

Commend

"Apologies if I am not the most lively of conversation. I was just thinking of my lost kin. I wonder, if they saw me now, what would they say?"

Commend

Sip tea

"Moments of silence like this are so rare. We need to appreciate them while we have them."

Agree

Nod

PERFECT TEA TIME!

"I think you for this invitation. Allow me to treat you in the near future."