#tristan is humble

[intheupside]

who would survive on a deserted island (dkpitt)

Bryan Rust: I feel like Harkins probably could. He seems like a guy who would be climbing trees and cutting them down with his bare hands, maybe even chewing them down. I think he would do well.

Reilly Smith: I wouldn't say any of us! No, you know what? Harks. Harks could survive. He can probably find weird things to eat. He'd be sufficient at just getting by.

Jansen Harkins: Ned. He just seems resourceful, and I feel like he could just chill. I don't think he needs too much.

Alex Nedeljkovic: Jars. He seems like an outdoorsy guy. Survivalist? I don't know if that's a real word.

P.O Joseph. Not Ned! I'm going to say Gravy. He's from the Maritimes, I feel like they know a little about the outdoors is my guess. On a serious note, I think Ned would definitely be someone that would be good at it, just his capacity of adjusting in places. He would be good at it.

Lars Eller: Sid. He seems to be going different ways about things, about a lot of things. He doesn't rely too much on new technology, let's just say that.

Jake Guentzel: Sid. He's just an outdoorsman, that's kind of his vibe. I'm sure he could find something to live off of.

Chad Ruhwedel: Sid or Carts, or myself. They seem like they could handle themselves in a tough situation. I think I would do OK.

Kris Letang: Sid, he lives in the middle of the woods.

Erik Karlsson: Sid. I just feel like he would be very creative and would probably figure out a way to sustain himself for as long as he needed.

Valtteri Puustinen: I would say Kopi (Joona Koppanen). He's the smartest guy, I think. He knows what he's doing. I think if I went with myself? I'm dying. But he's a smart guy.

Joona Koppanen: I'll take Carts. He has the wisdom and the dad strength.

Colin White: John Ludvig. I feel like he's pretty handy, he'd like the outdoors like that.

Drew O'Connor: Luds, probably. He seems like he would. Look at him! He seems like an animal, don't you think?

John Ludvig: I'm going to say Cookie (Noel Acciari). Cookie's a burly man, he can handle himself. I'm pretty sure he'd find a way to survive wherever he was. I'll go with him.

Noel Acciari: Rudy (Chad Ruhwedel). He has a military background with his dad, he just seems handy.

Marcus Pettersson: Rudy. I think he's pretty handy, he could make something out of nothing, make himself a good shelter. That's big, I think he could build a shelter. Raks is a good fisherman, but the problem is he's alone on that island. He doesn't touch the fish, he hates touching the fish. He doesn't do it. So it'd be a problem, he'd need somebody with him.

Jonathan Gruden: I feel like Petey (Marcus Pettersson) would be good, just being around him for a little bit. He's pretty good, he could work his way around it and survive. Not OC. But P.O could maybe survive too. (Me: Half the team picked P.O for who couldn't survive.) I've got P.O's back! Maybe he's fooling me.

Magnus Hellberg: Can I pick myself? I'm really big into the outdoors and hiking, hunting, fishing. I think I've watched every season of Alone and all those survival shows. I like to be out in nature. When I think about all the guys, I feel like I'm the most nerdy with that stuff, spend a lot of time on the water. I would say myself, but in a humble way.

Rickard Rakell: I think Sid would do pretty well. I feel like he lives out in nowhere over the summer.

Sidney Crosby: I think I'd say Ricky (Rakell). He's pretty chill, I think he's got some survival instincts. He's got the tools.

Ryan Graves: Maybe Jars, I feel like he's outdoorsy.

Jesse Puljujarvi: Maybe Jarry. I heard he stays on a farm? So that's why.

Tristan Jarry: Tanger. He'd find someone to come pick him up.

[fafnir19]

The bowtie

Tristan watched the stars twinkle faintly above the hotel's garden as he swirled the gin tonic in his glass. The soft evening breeze carried laughter and muffled chatter from the nearby pre-wedding-dinner. The soft glow of fairy lights cast a gentle ambiance, creating a serene backdrop for the upcoming wedding. Dressed in his tuxedo, he felt a touch out of place amidst the chatter and laughter drifting from the dining hall.

As he gazed at the stars, a voice interrupted his solitude. "Have you already chosen which bridesmaid you will get laid?" The words sliced through the calm, revealing the arrival of a man named Samuel, the bride's brother. Dark hair framing a chiseled jaw, Samuel exuded confidence and charm. Tristan's friend had told him about Samuel's reputation as a womanizer and a ruthless boss in an investment bank.

The question hung in the air, leaving Tristan flustered and unsure how to respond. "I, um, I..." he stammered and his heart was beating faster by stress. "I'm not... I usually... I mean, I don't..." His fingers tightened around the glass, a nervous energy thrumming beneath his calm exterior. Samuel chuckled, a low and knowing sound that sent a shiver down Tristan's spine. "Relax, mate. I was just pulling your leg," he said with a grin, a glint of mischief in his eyes. Leaning back, he appraised Tristan with a curious gaze. "You strike me as a man of numbers, more comfortable with algorithms than small talk. Am I right?" Tristan blinked, surprised by the astute observation. "Yes, I... I've always been more at ease with calculations than conversations," he admitted, a hint of self-consciousness lacing his voice. Samuel's easy confidence was a stark contrast to his own insecurities, highlighting the gap between them. One, a reserved mathematician futil trying navigating social waters, and the other, a charming banker well-versed in the ways of the world.

With a swift movement, Samuel's fingers deftly adjusted Tristan's bow tie and he inquired, “but honestly, which bridesmaid are you going to seduce?" Samuel's words caught Tristan off guard again, his cheeks flushing a rosy hue. "I-I usually don't... I mean, I'm not that assertive with women," Tristan stammered, his usual shyness creeping in. "Nonsense," Samuel chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You're a catch, you just need to loosen up a bit. Let me assist you with that."

Samuel fixed Tristan's gaze and suddenly Tristan's bowtie unfolded itself and slid into Tristan's shirt and slithered down his chest. A mix of confusion and arousal stirred within Tristan as the bowtie trailed lower over his sensitive nipples.

The silky touch against his skin sparked a fire of desire within him, and his nipples perked up at the unexpected caress. Tristan's breath caught in his throat as the bowtie gradually moved down to his waist. Moans escaped Tristan's lips as the silk bowtie continued its journey, coiling sensually around his cock and balls. The fabric embraced his manhood with a gentle yet firm grip, sending waves of pleasure coursing through his body. Tristan's breath hitched as desire surged within him, his arousal undeniable in the moonlit garden. With each subtle movement of the silk, Tristan's member responded eagerly, rising to attention beneath the fabric's teasing caress. The sensation was unlike anything he had ever experienced, a potent mix of silk and desire that left him yearning for more. His tuxedo jacket vanished into thin air, followed by the slow unfurling of his shirt buttons. Tristan's pants' fly opened effortlessly, revealing a surprise awaiting him underneath – a sleek black silk jockstrap, a transformation from his once-humble bowtie. A grin tugged at the corners of Tristan's lips as he marveled at the sight of himself clad in the lustrous garment, his manhood sheathed in silk that accentuated every curve and contour.

Before he knew it, Tristan stood there in nothing but the black silk jockstrap that moments ago was his bowtie, his bare ass exposed to the night air. Samuel leaned back, a predatory gleam in his eyes as he took in Tristan's newfound state of undress. "Now that's more like it," he purred, his tone laden with promise. Panic welled up within Tristan, urging him to flee from this bewildering turn of events.

As he moved to flee, Samuel's firm hand grasped his shoulder, halting Tristan in his tracks. He turned to face Samuel, his blue eyes wide with confusion. Without a word, Samuel's hand slid down Tristan's back, fingers tracing a tantalizing path until they reached their destination. Tristan's breath hitched as Samuel fingered his hole shamelessly and his touch sent a shockwave of sensation through his body.

The intimacy of the moment left Tristan speechless, his body responding to the unknown sensations with a primal need. Before Tristan could gather his thoughts, Samuel deftly turned him around, pressing him against the bench. The world seemed to spin as Tristan found himself at the mercy of Samuel's desires, a flurry of emotions swirling within him. As Samuel took what he wanted, Tristan's body surrendered to the overwhelming wave of pleasure and confusion.

And then, as quickly as it had begun, it was over. Tristan was left breathless and with Samuel’s cum inside of him. He watched in shock as Samuel ripped away the silk jockstrap, revealing a truth that left Tristan reeling. His cock, once a part of him, now merged seamlessly with the fabric of the jockstrap. It was a sight that defied logic, a bizarre twist in an already surreal night.

Before Tristan could even begin to process what had happened, Samuel was gone, disappearing into the night with Tristan's manhood in tow. The abrupt departure of Samuel, along with the disappearance of the black silk jockstrap, jolted Tristan back to reality. His eyes widened in disbelief as he realized the unthinkable – his very essence, his manhood, had merged with the silk and was now gone, taken by the enigmatic Samuel.

Tristan's heart raced as he sat in the church the next day and fixed his gaze on Samuel, the enigmatic and devilishly handsome investment banker, near the altar. The memories of the night before in the hotel garden flooded his mind. He wanted to approach Samuel and reclaim his manhood. But he couldn't just do it in the middle of a church during a wedding ceremony. Tristan could hardly believe his eyes as he watched Samuel gracefully adjusting a bowtie around the neck of a jock-like groomsman.

Each precise movement of Samuel's hands sent shivers down Tristan's spine, as if he was the one being touched. The realization struck him like a thunderbolt - his own cock had transformed into that very bowtie, binding him to the groomsman in an intimate and surreal manner. The wave of lust that accompanied every adjustment of the bowtie sent shivers down Tristan's spine. He squirmed in his seat, trying to focus on the ceremony at hand, but his thoughts were consumed by the torment of desire. A bead of sweat trickled down Tristan's forehead as he struggled to contain the overwhelming sensations coursing through him. The church's solemn atmosphere contrasted sharply with the carnal urges stirring within him, creating a discordant symphony of conflicting emotions. Tristan's hands clenched the edge of the wooden pew, his knuckles turning white with the effort of holding back his desires. The groomsman, unaware of the intricate connection between his bowtie and Tristan's own body, occasionally adjusted the silk accessory with practiced ease. Each subtle movement seemed calculated to drive Tristan to the brink of madness. The air around him crackled with suppressed energy, his mind clouded by a haze of lust and longing. As the ceremony progressed, Tristan's internal struggle intensified. The knot of desire tightened within him, threatening to unravel his self-control. He stole furtive glances at Samuel, whose gaze seemed to pierce through Tristan's facade, laying bare his innermost desires.

The weight of unspoken words hung heavy in the air between them, suffusing the church with an undercurrent of tension. Time seemed to stretch and distort, elongating the minutes into agonizing eternities. Tristan's breath came in shallow gasps, his chest rising and falling with the rhythm of his escalating arousal. The wedding hymns echoed through the hallowed space, their melodic strains weaving a tapestry of temptation around Tristan's senses. But Tristan knew he had to bide his time, waiting for the right moment to make his move.

As dinner finally commenced, Tristan seized the opportunity to approach Samuel and the jock-like groomsman.

His palms clammy and his heart pounding, he watched intently as Samuel nonchalantly removed the bowtie from the groomsman's neck. The motion was like a siren's call, letting Tristan squirm in uncharted desire. With a steady hand, Samuel slid the bowtie into Tristan's shirt, where it snaked down to his crotch, transforming into the familiar silk jockstrap, packed with his cock and balls.

But this time, something was different. Tristan felt a shift in the air, a transformation stirring within him. And as he looked down, he realized that he was no longer the same man. In that moment, Tristan was reborn. His body exuded a newfound confidence, muscles sculpted and a smirk playing on his lips. Tristan stood there as a reflection of the groomsman who had once worn the bowtie.

No longer the timid mathematician trapped in his own insecurities, Tristan stood tall, exuding a newfound aura of self-assurance.

As he tried to process this sudden transformation, a bridesmaid sauntered by, catching his eye with a mischievous twinkle. Without hesitation, Tristan found himself slipping effortlessly into a flirtatious banter with the bridesmaid.

Gone was the awkwardness that usually plagued him in social settings. He exuded confidence and charm, much to his own surprise. Later that evening, amidst the cozy ambiance of the fireside room, Tristan found himself entwined in a passionate embrace with the bridesmaid. Moans and sighs filled the air as they surrendered to desire. As they parted ways, Tristan emerged from the fireside room, his strides filled with a newfound swagger. It was then that Samuel appeared.

Samuel's hand clapped down on Tristan's back in a congratulatory gesture, his voice laced with a mix of amusement and satisfaction. "Your transformation is now irreversible," Samuel declared, his words carrying an air of finality. "Henceforth, you will be a vain and cocksure jock." With a flourish, Samuel produced a business card and extended it to Tristan. "Join my investment banking team on Monday. Embrace your new identity." A protest formed on Tristan's lips, a plea to retain his former self, but an unfamiliar force gripped him. A surge of bravado surged through his veins, drowning out his doubts. His once rational mind now clouded with a heady mix of power and allure.

Samuel's satisfaction only deepened as he observed Tristan's internal struggle. With a sardonic smirk dancing on his lips, Samuel remarked, "I don't get why HR always whines about hiring the right people. All you have to do is get the appropriate candidates by the balls!" His words cut through the tension, revealing a glimpse of Samuel's ruthless nature beneath his charming facade.

Tristan couldn't help but feel a mix of anticipation and intrigue at what lay ahead. With a nod of acceptance, Tristan pocketed the business card, feeling the weight of his decision settle upon him. The path ahead was unclear, but one thing was certain – he was no longer the meek mathematician he once was. His very essence seemed to shift, aligning with Samuel's vision of a ruthless and confident figure in the cutthroat world of finance. As the night faded into dawn, Tristan stood at the precipice of a new beginning, his heart racing with anticipation and a newfound hunger for success.

[gatheringbones]

[“My Bodysex Workshops were well received, so I decided to film one. You just can’t beat the moving image; it’s an opportunity to give people images of what sex might be. The best way for us to learn is to find out what’s going on with everyone else.

My girlfriend and I used a home video camera, and it took me two years to edit it on two clunky tape decks. My films were automatically labeled porn, because if you see a pussy or a penis, it’s porn. But you can’t teach sex without getting explicit, so, again, I found myself embracing the role of pornographer.

Before the Internet, every time I said “masturbation,” it either sent folks into gales of laughter or provoked embarrassed looks as they quickly changed the subject. My articles for magazines were canceled and interviews for television ended up on the cutting room floor. The bottom line of sexual repression is the prohibition of childhood masturbation. This humble activity is the basis for all of human sexuality. The Internet was the first place in my long career that I was not censored.

My old lover Grant ran my first website. At the end, he was classified as legally blind, and held a magnifying glass, with his nose an inch from the screen. When I joined forces with law school grad and cyber geek Carlin Ross, we created a new website. I believe that once Grant met Carlin, he was able to leave his disintegrating body. He made it to his eighty-sixth birthday and died proud with his boots on, with the next upload for my website sitting on his hard drive. I miss him terribly to this day. We had the most passionate love/hate affair of the century.

Carlin and I offer free, accessible sex information, both visual and written, to women and men. We call the clips where we show sexual skills, “The New Porn.” Sex education must be entertaining, not academic, dry, boring, or stilted. I’m not afraid of the word porn. If people are going to call my explicit sex education porn, then I say embrace the word. Be the new porn, be the porn you want to see. While it’s true that a lot of pornography out there is shitty for the most part, it still works: it gets people hot. The biggest turn on for me is to have a fully orgasmic partner, not someone pretending or playing. We all know the real deal when it’s happening—authentic orgasms are unmistakable. I’m a sex-positive feminist, liberating women one orgasm at a time.

Our site represents a new feminist sexual politics that’s well beyond any victimhood of rape and sexual abuse. We represent orgasmic feminism—a new movement of women who have taken control of our sex lives, and who dare to design them in any way we choose whether we’re straight, bi, lesbian, or a combination, and we can enjoy our bodies in any way we desire.”]

betty dodson, from the porn wars, from the feminist porn book: the politics of producing pleasure, edited by tristan taormino, constance henley, and celine perreñas shimizu, 2013

[jonquilyst]

Day 28 - Finale

After weeks of battle and triumph, it's time to lay the 2nd season of Total Drama Sims to rest and officially crown a winner!

Our finalists, Liana Morris and Paulina Callaway, had the wits, guts, and strength to persevere through the entire game, outlasting everyone else in the process. Now, all of the eliminated contestants will be coming together to vote for a winner! Like last season, votes will be public and will go from the bottom of the leaderboard up! (aka last place to the most recently eliminated)

Let's see who will be winning Total Drama Sims and receive the grand prize!!

14TH PLACE - BRODY SHERMAN

"I'm voting for you Paulina, because we talked for a bit on the very first day and I thought you were pretty cool, so... yeah."

13TH PLACE - TRISTAN BACHMAN

"Liana, because you're nice, I guess, and I underestimated you a bit. But I never even talked to Paulina, so..."

12TH PLACE - ASHLEE SCHAEFER

"Paulina, the fact that you got eliminated, lucked out and joined the other team, and then just... never got eliminated after that was pretty freakin' awesome! Sooo much cooler than Liana's run, if you ask me, so I'm voting for you."

11TH PLACE - NEAL WARD

"This was a difficult vote for me since I felt like I was genuinely friends with both of you, but I'm deciding to vote for Paulina because I felt closer to her and Liana was part of the alliance that voted me out. Hope you don't take it personally, Liana, but that's just how I feel."

10TH PLACE - WILLABELLE LOWES

"I'm obviously voting for you, Liana! Ever since Toni got out I was keeping my fingers crossed you'd make it to the end! While I would have liked to win, if there's anyone who should win instead, it's definitely you."

TIED FOR 8TH PLACE - HANS SOMME

"I did a lot of thinking ever since I was eliminated. While I was watching the rest of the competition, I realized that Liana was friends with everybody... literally! She went up and became friends with everybody, and because of that no one seemed to want to vote her out. She was also so sweet and humble, never once bragging about herself and comforting others when they were in a bad mood... And I just thought to myself: 'Damn... No wonder I got out so quick.'"

"I've kinda realized I'm not the best person around... I've had some beef with a few people here, and that's kinda what led to me getting out... So, out of respect for you Liana, I'm voting for you. I wanna try to be more like you in the future."

TIED FOR 8TH PLACE - TONI STROUD

"Of course you're getting my vote, Liana! I am so proud that you made it to the finale. You deserve the entire world, girly!"

7TH PLACE - COFFEE BEAN

"I'm voting for you, Paulina, because you were very kind to me after you joined the Illustrious Star-Shines. Also, I believe that you did not deserve to be voted out of the Renowned Big-Names. It's so cool you made it to the finale despite being eliminated before, so I believe you deserve to win."

6TH PLACE - ENZO ESPINOZA

"I knew you could do it, Paulina! You're so talented. Even though I couldn't win, I really hope you can. So of course, my vote is going to you, my love."

5TH PLACE - TAKASHI ABBOTTSFORD

"Liana! I'm voting for you because you're super nice and I think you deserve to win!"

4TH PLACE - FLO HARPER

"Yeah, you're a real one for sure, Liana, so I'm voting for you! You deserve it!"

3RD PLACE - DREW PINTO

"What Flo said! But also, that morning when you comforted me Liana... You didn't have to do that, but you did, and I really, really appreciate it... I honestly think both of you deserve to win; you're both my friends, but I have to choose one or the other, so... I'm choosing Liana."

With a vote of 7-5, the winner of the 2nd season of Total Drama Sims is...

LIANA MORRIS!!!

CONGRATULATIONS @bloomingkyras!! Liana has won the competition and has therefore won the grand prize! The grand prize consists of a small real-life award given personally from me (you will be contacted), while in-universe, whatever Liana receives is up to you! Whether it's 1,000,000 simoleons, a mansion, or even a dream vacation, it's hers!

There will be 1 final post to close out Total Drama Sims: Season 2 and celebrate our winner! Stay tuned…

@cowplant-ate-my-sim @aniraklova @micrathene-w @shmoodlet @nakasumi-sims

@invisiblequeen @ethicaltreatmentofcowplants @simsinfinitylt @riverofjazzsims @seyvia

@stargazer-sims @akitasimblr @witheringscreations

[a-d-nox]

7 deadly sins as asteroids

the seven deadly sins as asteroids

i'm going to work off of what i already have posted (no asteroids discussed after this post will be included or added after the fact). i would like to state that what i am about to list out does not mean to accuse you of being sinful if prominent (remember all asteroids have to land somewhere). if you don't understand my thought process feel free to comment with questions!

tw: mentions of rape.

envy: discontentment, resentment, and/or jealousy over the acheievements and blessings another possesses.

aphrodite (asteroid 1388) - jealous lover epithet.

athene (asteroid 881) / pallas (asteroid 2) - nearly every moral she has interacted with is because she was envious of what they had... from worshippers paying "too much attention" to her high priestess to a weaver who had too much talent.

eris (asteroid 136199) - started the trojan war because she wasn't invited to a wedding.

medea (212) - killed jason's new wife and children because he didn't love her anymore.

gluttony: over-indulgence or over-consumption of what can be ingested internally (i.e. food, drink, drugs, etc.).

cerberus (asteroid 1865) - ate sinners who tried to escape the underworld.

dionysus (asteroid 3671) - he's a wine god; it's part of his nature to over consume...

poe (asteroid 17427) - might have drank himself to death and definitely did a ton of drugs during his lifetime.

tantalus (asteroid 2102) - his punishment in the underworld is constant hunger and thirst.

greed: excessive love and selfish desire for external, material objects.

beowulf (asteroid 38086) - had to see the dragons loot before he died.

midas (asteroid 1981) - asked for the gift to turn what he touched to gold.

minos (asteroid 6239) - took the offering of the gods.

nessus (asteroid 7066) - tried to steal the wife of an famous hero.

psyche (asteroid 16) - had to open the underworld box because it had something inside that she was told would even make the goddess of beauty even more gorgeous, and she simply had to have it.

sisyphus (asteroid 1866) - took the gifts of his visitors before killing them.

lust: constantly seeking sexual pleasure / gratification (seen as rape, adultery, seduction, etc.).

aphrodite (asteroid 1388) - chased after men as a married woman.

apollo (asteroid 1862) - had a long list of "lovers."

asmodeus (asteroid 2174) - demon of lust.

byron (asteroid 3306) - known for his lustful behavior.

cybele (asteroid 65) - had a sex cult.

eos (asteroid 221) - cursed to have uncontrollable sexual urges.

helena (asteroid 101) - was married and ran away with a man she just met or fell in lust with her attractive captor depending on the version/translation. tried to distract her husband by undressing when she was "saved."

isolda (asteroid 211) - under the control of a "love potion." tried to be with the nephew of the man she married.

ixion (asteroid 28978) - tried to have sex with the queen of the gods had sex with clouds shaped as her instead.

nessus (asteroid 7066) - couldn't control his sexual urges and tried to rape one of his costumers.

pan (asteroid 4450) - chased after nymphs he found attractive.

paris (asteroid 3317) - was offered power, wisdom, or the hottest woman alive. opted for the woman and didn't care that she was married - "kidnapped her" anyway.

poseidon (asteroid 4341) - very sexually frustrated, involved in a few rapes.

priapus (h22) - cursed in the womb to have sexual dysfunctions. attempted to rape a virginal goddess.

tristan (asteroid 1966) - under the control of a "love potion." tried to be with his aunt.

zeus (asteroid 5731) - had a long list of "lovers" whilst married to the queen of the gods.

pride: self-devotion, excessively believing in one's own abilities. lack of humble attitude.

achilles (asteroid 588) - only weakness was his heal; he otherwise acted invulnerable.

arachne (asteroid 407) - deemed herself more talented than the goddess of crafts.

athene (asteroid 881) / pallas (asteroid 2) - feels the need to humble everyone and appears to dislike being humbled herself.

apollo (asteroid 1862) - overly competitive in many areas of life.

echo (asteroid 60) - thought she was clever enough to distract the queen of the gods.

icarus (asteroid 1566) - believed he could fly higher than he was capable of.

lucifer (asteroid1930) - believed he should reign over the heavens and not God.

medea (asteroid 212) - believed she should be the punisher of those around her.

narcissus (asteroid 37117) - thought he was too pretty to be with any of his suitors.

odysseus (asteroid 1143) / ulysess (asteroid 5254) - thought he could fake mental illness to get out of going to war.

sisyphus (asteroid 1866) - tricked the queen of the dead into letting him re-enter the world of the living; thought that, as a mortal, he was above death.

tantalus (asteroid 2102) - thought he could trick the gods into eating his son.

voltaire (asteroid 5676) - wrote a lot about pride.

zeus (asteroid 5731) - believed only he could rule over the gods.

sloth: reluctance / failure to do what one should. apathy, boredom, or indifference to a god.

aci (asteroid 6522) - didn't move out of the way of the boulder.

ajax (asteroid 1404) - thought the gods chose wrong.

arachne (asteroid 407) - thought she was better than a god.

cheshirecat (asteroid 6042) - lazes about and gives no straightforward answers.

hypnos (asteroid 14827) - nearly always asleep.

madhatter (asteroid 6735) - it's always tea time so he can avoid his execution.

odysseus (asteroid 1143) / ulysses (asteroid 5254) - tried to get out of going to war.

pholus (asteroid 5145) - did nothing to stop the bloodbath in the cave.

wrath: uncontrolled anger, rage, and hatred.

achilles (asteroid 588) - had to get revenge on the side who killed his best friend.

ajax (asteroid 1404) - tried to kill a whole council for rejecting his ideas.

circe (asteroid 34) - turned sailors into animals. made her son kill an ex-lover.

grendel (asteroid 541982) - couldn't sleep, so he murdered hundreds of people.

hannibal (asteroid 2152) - swore at a young age to kill a specific group of people.

hera (asteroid 103) - constantly sought revenge as a jealous lover in many brutal ways.

horus (asteroid 1924) - killed his mother. had a life long revenge against his uncle.

ixion (asteroid 28978) - killed his own kin.

medea (asteroid 212) - killed her brother to escape... then killed her own children... and her ex-lover's new wife.

nessus (asteroid 7066) - even on his deathbed, he lied, so he could get his revenge on the person who killed him.

sisyphus (asteroid 1866) - killed his guests.

typhon (asteroid 42355) - his rage caused seismic activity.

let me know if you are interested in the opposition - the seven heavenly virtues - by submitting it in the ask box.

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[orionscelt]

Finally put together a character sheet and some details for Tristan - bunch of info under the cut.

Date of birth: 7th of January Nationality: British (English/Scottish) Blood status: Pureblood Height: 6’0 House: Ravenclaw Wand: Hawthorn , dragon heartstring core , 12 ½”,slightly springy.

Boggart: Public ridicule. Patronus: Sparrowhawk Polyjuice: Metallic blue , lake water and Iron. Amortentia: Pear , green tea, rain.

Best subject: Study of Ancient Runes Favourite subjects: Charms, Potions Favourite teacher: Professor Sharp (ex colleague of his father, he really enjoys talking to sharp out of class about his and his fathers adventures at work - what he was allowed to hear at least ). Worst subjects: Divination ( he has 300 better things to do than stare into a ball for an hour). Transfiguration ( his mind wanders constantly and more often than not the results are a tad disastrous). Least favourite subject: Divination Least favourite teacher: Professor Binns , self explanatory. Quidditch: Keeper - mostly plays casually , usually he's too busy to play official matches so acts as a reserve. 

Best friends: Sebastian Sallow,  Ominis Gaunt , Amit Thakkar , Samantha Dale

Clothing style: Muted blue , green and brown. Practical and warm - scuffed muddy boots, a navy blue pea coat with a bronze trim, his house scarf. Yule Ball: 1890s formal dinner jacket with a white waistcoat and periwinkle ascot tie.

In no particular order~ Traits: Dependable, Humble, Curious, Analytical, Too trusting, a lil Socially Awkward, will misinterpret things if people aren’t straight forward with him. Likes: Researching sites of ancient magic, swimming, keeping pet beetles on the windowsill next to his bed, cricket, quidditch (keeper) , horses, cider, Edinburgh rock (sweets), morning tea with his Ravenclaw roommates,  buying his friends gifts. Dislikes: too much noise, people staring, his friends being passive aggressive or indirect... dugbogs.

Favourite Beasts: Unicorns and Nifflers

Residence: Coombe , Oxfordshire.

Father: Gowan Sterling  Mother: Laith Sterling (maiden name Knox) Paternal grandparents: Graeme Sterling - Agnes Sterling

Both parents are aurors (as well as his ex-auror grandmother) - His mother; a particularly stubborn and headstrong witch continued her job after Tristan was old enough to be without her; his grandparents have looked after him for most of his life. Much to his parents dismay; after still not showing any evidence of any magical ability in his early teens he was assumed a squib, so was sent to an academy in Oxford in hopes of a successful career in the muggle world. He receives his letter on a trip with his classmates to London. Fig happens to be an old classmate of his grandfathers.

His grandparents run their farm where they mostly grow wheat , trees and a small range of magical plants tended to by his grandmother. He’s particularly close to his grandfather.

Future Occupation: Ministry of Magic Independent researcher/ magi-archaeologist

✨bonus dumb meme i can't get out of my drafts✨

[smokerswifey]

This may be a weird ask... but bear with me please. Imagine this in this scenario What if chion says something really offense (it could be anything) to Percival but this time around Percival gets really mad almost attecking chion. How do you think percival friends, Donny Nasiens, Ann and Lancelot will react and do to calm percival,etc? And how think Tristan(especially), Isolde, and will react and do to fix the fignt.

Percival dosent really seem like this type of percival that gets angry often. I think it very rare to see him angry....🤔💭

Lmao Percival isn't really the type of person to get violent when offended especially with people who sees as comrades like Chion but I'll humour you and try to imagine...

If Percival actually retaliated against Chion with violence one day I think that the squad would be a bit worried tbh .

Sure I think Anne and Donny would be a little proud to see Percy humble Chion's yapping ass for once but they know that Percy isn't a violent kid and doesn't like to throw hands with anybody .

Lancelot would instantly know that something is up, probably even before Percy would attack Chion.

And Nasiens too, I think he would probably try and tell Chion to be quiet, since he would obviously see that Percival was not in the mood to be annoyed rn .

The squad would probably restrain him, I can see Nasiens trying to pull him away to calm down, to talk, etc...

Lancelot would probably stare down at Chion in disgust and amusement for like five seconds before going to check on Percival .

Anne and Donny would probably yell at Chion, telling him that it was his fault that he bitchslapped for acting like a bitch...

Isolde would probably rush to help Chion up, muttering to him " I told you that fat mouth of yours would get you in trouble..." while pulling him to his feet .

And I feel like Tristan would be upset that Percival was violent towards Chion but he would probably know that he had it coming so he would probably ask Chion if he's okay before telling him to stop being rude to Percy and make him a apologise.

And I think he would check on Percy too after he's calmed down asking if he's okay and everything and apologising for Chion .

This was an odd but interesting ask lmao thank you mert- I mean thank you anon ! Please keep the asks coming everybody

[lukedanger]

Owlcatober - Day 2 - Fake Names (KM)

Day 2 of @owlcatober, focusing on a group of differently named adventurers preparing to infiltrate the Kingdom of the Cleansed...

[Ao3 Link]

And so dear readers, we leave the tale of the Baroness to follow the deeds of Sir Tristian, friend to Amalia of the Kingdom of the Cleansed! And the tale is now written not by Linzi the [insert title later], but Brynn the Ca

“Story check.”

Linzi looked up as she was interrupted by Ekundayo, her heavy maille shirt rustling as she did. They were all dressed differently, even Tristian had traded his Sarenite robes for the earthen robes of a humble pilgrim. A large black furred wolf with a riding harness was also sitting by the fire with them, next to Tristian at the moment.

“C’mon,” Amiri growled, clearly unhappy without her oversized sword in favor of the javelins, hatchet, and small shield of a skirmisher, “We went over this a bunch of times. I’m not dumb, I’m even learning those stupid letters!”

“Stories fall apart in the details,” Ekun retorted, having wrapped his head in cloth in a Thuvian style. “I will start: Taiwo, mercenary from Thuvia. Came north to see the world, offered to guide Tristian’s party. Prefer to be left alone.”

Amiri grunted, shaking head. “Fine - Valeria, thief from Numeria. Got caught robbing a League tower, sold as a slave, broke out after pushing a mill wheel for years, looking for a new life in Gevaudan.” She glanced at Octavia, “You next.”

“You had to use that as a background…” the wizardess exhaled, shaking her head despite the large pointy hat and thick black robes she was wearing. “Okay: Aurelia, necromancer from Galt trying to redeem herself. Fond of quite good whisky, late night strolls, and hates cities.”

Their attention turned to Kaessi, wearing a worn gambeson with a spear propped next to her seat on a log. “Layla. I came here to make a new life away from Qadira, joined a village militia with other settlers, and deserted after the troll attacks.” She cast a particularly harsh glare towards Tristian - the kind that stayed whether she was feeling kind or harsh that day. “So why does he not need to lie?”

“Amalia is… not fully aware,” Tristan admitted, looking down as if in shame as he was judged by kindness. “She knows me only as a humble pilgrim who was interested in how the Kingdom of the Cleansed offers redemption.”

“The covers were my suggestion,” Ekundayo added, “to reduce suspicion.” He turned to Linzi, then frowned at her notes. “I thought you left the book behind? Too iconic.”

Linzi exhaled. Yes, he had been quite firm on that. “A Cavalier of the Paw still has her entry in the annals to consider! A worthy cause sought, and a worthier one to charge into!” She stood up, the heroicness of the pose rather dampened by stumbling. Linzi was unused to the weight of maille on her shoulders, even with the belt of strength that Valerie had lent her.

“Regardless,” the bard-pretending-to-be-cavalier continued, “You can be sure to follow Brynn into gllloorrrrrrious battle!”

“Speaking of paws,” Amiri grumbled, “where’s Dog?”

Ekun sighed. “Too known. Besides, someone else plays the role of war wolf. Brynn?”

“Oh, right,” Linzi had almost forgotten the most important part! “Thank you Sir Tristian for keeping an eye on Gnaw while at Tuskdale!”

She could see Kaessi tilting her head and mouthing ‘Gnaw’ in confusion as the large black furred wolf rose and sniffed Tristian’s hand.

“Perhaps you should get her out of the harness for tonight,” Tristian suggested, gesturing towards Linzi.

“Oh, of course!” Linzi really should have known better. She didn’t have a squire, after all! Then again, I end up playing squire often enough… she thought as she started removing the strapping. Oh, if only she could write what she was really doing: she knew readers would have a laugh at it.

Hopefully the Baroness did not realize it either. That would be awkward. And embarrassing.

====

NOTES:

While I do not plan on doing as much with Kingmaker for Owlcatober, I did want to do a few things and test the waters a bit. Since KM was my first stab into Pathfinder at all I went relatively generic, and the baroness I rolled for it ended up as the proto version of Elaina. I've been mulling on ways to reroll her to stand out as her own character. Luckily, a confluence of circumstances such as the name I grabbed for the barony and certain problems like "They're In This Together!" constantly repeating offered an idea...

[lady-of-tearshed]

How to be rebellious, Tristan Flynn's guide for dummies

Ruhn Danaan week 2024

@ruhnweek @cadiawrites

Day 2: Crowned Prince

Ruhn Danaan x Reader

Sumarry: "First rule of being a prince: Rebel when you can!" Tristan Flynn's steps to turn Ruhn into a rebel.

A/N: Being rebellious is unnecessary. Do not listen to Tristan Flynn. Don't repeat Ruhn Danaan's mistake of taking Flynn's tips. Or do... At your own risks.

Warnings: Lots of warnings. Smoking, drinking, tattoos, needles, sex, mention of a threesome in a pantry... yeah. That's pretty it I think.

First step: Feel like a rebel.

“First rule of being a prince: rebel when you can!” Tristan Flynn stated, leaned in the bathroom door frame. Ruhn sighed, and looked away from him, keeping his eyes fixed on the wall in front of him to focus on trying to empty his bladder. “And how, exactly, is pissing with the bathroom door open supposed to feel rebellious?” Declan chuckled from behind Flynn, at least he had the decency to give his friend some privacy by waiting in the hallway. “Alright- just shut up! You’re distracting me.” Ruhn mumbled, teeth gritting and cheeks reddening from the alcohol they had inhibited earlier that night watching sunball.

That and from the embarrassing situation he threw himself in.

The newly crowned prince had made the calamitous mistake of confessing to his friend that never in his life had he dared deliberately confronting his father. Which had made Dec give him a comforting pat on his shoulder, but Flynn had nearly choked on his beer, staring goggled-eyed at Ruhn. Which had led him to make it his mission to teach Ruhn how to be, how to feel, and how to act rebellious. Because in Flynn's humble opinion as a noble himself, a Lord, to be precise, it was a fucking necessity to misbehave from time to time. Daily, in his case.

Ruhn sighed as the pressure of his lower abdomen slacked, and he evacuated in the toilet. The door wide open in his own house. Declan chuckled, and smugly said, “Good job, man,” Flynn still stared at him while the black haired Fae zipped up his pants, flushing the toilet before heading to the sink. Flynn walked closer to where Ruhn was, “Soooo? How does it feel?” He mused, and Ruhn rolled his eyes. “Dangerously rebellious.” He said under his breath.

But Flynn didn't seem to pick up on the Crowned Prince of the Valbaran Fae's sarcasm. “See? Told you so. Now you're ready for the next step.” He continued. This time, Declan walked into the bathroom too, exchanging a worried glance with Ruhn before asking the lordling carefully, “What next step, Flynn.”

—

Second step: Look like a rebel!

“That's a waste of money,” Ruhn tried to resonate with his friend. And himself. Because if he was being honest, getting a tattoo, or tattoos, was expensive. And those needles didn't look soft.

“Chicken.” Declan muttered under his breath, but loud enough so that the princelling would hear it.

“You're not even getting one!” Ruhn scoffed, his alphahole ego slightly bruised. Declan laughed, and said, “No, I'm not. Because I have the balls to tell Flynn no.” Flynn gasped and punched his friend on the shoulder. “You say this as if I'm forcing him!” He put his hands on his chest, as if Declan’s accusation had stabbed him in the heart.

“Are you not?” Declan smirked before getting back into his car, ready to leave those two dickheads at their appointment before picking them back up later. He just hoped he wouldn't have to bring back two wailing Fae males back home.

“No! I just… convinced him.” Flynn rolled his eyes as if he was stating the obvious.

“By telling him the tattooer had nice boobs?” Declan leaned over the opened window of his car, a knowing grin spreading on his lips as Flynn flipped him off. He dragged a red faced Ruhn towards the tattoo shop. “It's been nice to be your fucking chauffeur!” Declan yelled as he rolled back up the window of his car, before speeding down the street.

The bell rang as they entered the shop, and Ruhn gulped at the sight of the curved lioness shifter standing at the front desk, checking on the computer for their appointment.

“I'm sure you'll eat those for lunch man,” Flynn gestured with his chin to the massive pair of tits of the lioness shifter. She chuckled, hiding her annoyance, then started to tattoo Flynn first, since he had insisted that he and Ruhn got at least one matching tattoo. The lioness shifter greatly punished Flynn’s obscene comments by being not so gentle while she tattooed him, the needle hurting more than usual.

Ruhn gulped.

Ruhn would definitely not have those delicious looking round breasts for lunch.

And he received his punishment too, for his friend poor, so stupidly poor way of flirting with women.

—

Third and final step: Act like a rebel!

“This is going to end very badly,” Ruhn said, his eyes taking in the sight of their messed up place. People and red plastic cups were scattered all over the kitchen and living room. The floors, even the walls were sticky from the alcohol or whatever substance Ruhn didn't even want to think about. He was also pretty damn sure that Declan had broken his bed frame upstairs with his new boyfriend. Mark, Declan had said his name was. Or was it Max? Mike? Honestly, Ruhn’s brain was too fucked up to recall anything about that conversation. Only that Declan and Mark had smelled like mirthroot, alcohol, and arousal, which had distracted Ruhn to register whatever Dec was saying to him.

He just hoped it wasn't important.

“Why would it end badly?” Flynn raised his eyebrow at Ruhn. He gave the girl that was currently straddling his laps and eating his neck a small slap on the ass before rolling her off him, promising her with a charming smile to get back to her later. Once the female walked away, he scooted over Ruhn’s side of the couch, placing an arm around his shoulder. “This is your house, you do what the hell you want!”

Ruhn huffed at how ridiculous Flynn’s slurred voice sounds when he’s high and drunk. “Yeah, but technically it's my father’s house. He pays for it.” Everything his father paid for, he could take away from him, Ruhn thought. Before the culpability started to gnaw at him, Flynn raised his voice over the music. “So what, just enjoy the party and the pretty ladies, Little Prince!” He poked Ruhn's cheek, and the sound of furniture shattering from Declan's bedroom resonated right above them. “See? Even Dec is having fun. Just enjoy the party, and the pretty ladies, while you're at it! Come on, let it all out, little prince!”

Rhun’s head pivoted in his direction, he bared his teeth out and looked around to make sure no one had heard that stupid friend of his call him that. Ruhn’s formal title was probably not a secret to anyone here, but Flynn didn’t have to shout it from the rooftops. “Don’t call me that.”

“Oh, my apologies, your Royal high-mess.”

“Don’t call me that either.” Ruhn snarled his answer. Flynn only shrugged, watching Ruhn blabbering angry nonsense as he almost stumbled off the couch. As soon as Ruhn wiggled out of his seat to head towards where his stomach was calling him, the female that had been sprawled over Flynn all night settled back in her spot. The newly crowned prince weaved through the mass of partying people, every accidental touch against his body feeled like the most delectable caress, and the bright colored decorative neons all around the rooms made it feel as if he had been transported on another planet. A planet where everything felt, smelled, and tasted erratic, delightful. It was fucking sick, and godsdamned awesome.

He managed to reach his destination: the kitchen. His body felt like it was floating, and yet those doors seemed so heavy to pull. He tugged again on the walk-in pantry doors, and what waited for him inside looked a million times tastier than the waffles he had planned to devour. The set of females that were currently making out inside the pantry stared at him, stunned at first, then the three of them just bursted out laughing. “Join us?” The doe shifter asked, looking at the blond female pinned against her for her approval. The second female agreed, and both of them stared at Ruhn, waiting for his answer. They smelled good. The pantry smelled like sex, female hormones, and mixed food odors. That only made Ruhn hungrier.

Those waffles could wait, though.

“Fuck yeah.” He drawled.

Right now, he felt like he truly was a fucking rebel. Fuck his title, fuck his dad, and he’d most certainly fuck these two females. He planned on worshiping them like the goddesses they were.

[jgthirlwell]

playlist 06.29.24

Tristan Perich/Ensemble 0 Open Symmetry (Erased Tapes) Beak >>>> / Kosmik Musik (Invada) Warrington-Runcorn New Town Development Plan Your Community Hub (Castles In Space) John Luther Adams Arctic Dreams / Houses of the Wind / Waves and Particles (Cold Blue Music) Karl Bartos Off The Record (Bureau B) Drew McDowall A Thread Silvered and Trembling (Dais) Rob Aiki Aubrey Lowe Grasshopper Republic (Invada) Bad Ambulance Intel 95 (Nice Music) Carlos Giffoni Dream Walker (Ideologic Organ) Bob Vylan Humble As The Sun (Ghost Theatre 2) Lisa Lerkenfeldt Halos of Perception (Shelter Press) British Murder Boys Active Agents and House Boys (Downwards) Mono Oath (Pelagic) Wargasm UK Venom (Slowplay) Blossom Toes We Are Ever So Clean (Polydor)

Chris Stein Under A Rock (book)

[thatbiologist]

G’eth Character Name Bank

First Names

Masculine Names

Alfred, Andrew, Arlo, Arthur, Balthazar, Barry, Ben, Benedick, Bernard, Burchard, Cedric, Charibert, Crispin, Cyrill, Daegal, Derek, Digory, Drustan, Duncan, Edmund, Edwin, Elric, Evaine, Frederick, Geffery, George, Godfreed, Gregory, Guy, Harris, Harry, Horsa, Hugh, Humphrey, Iago, Jack, Jeremy, John, Kazamir, Kenric, Lawrence, Leoric, Lorik, Luke, Lynton, Lysander, Madoc, Magnus, Maukolum, Micheal, Miles, Milhouse, Mordred, Mosseus, Ori, Orvyn, Neville, Norbert, Nycolas, Paul, Percival, Randulf, Richard, Robert, Roderick, Stephen, Tennys, Theodoric, Thomas, Tristan, Tybalt, Victor, Vincent, Vortimer, Willcock, Willian, Wymond

Feminine Names

Adelin, Alice, Amelia, Beatrix, Beryl, Bogdana, Branwyne, Brigida, Catalina, Catherine, Claudia, Crystina, Deanna, Desdemona, Elaine, Elinora, Eliza, Enide, Eva, Ferelith, Fiora, Freya, Gertrude, Gregoria, Gueanor, Gwen, Gwendolyn, Hannah, Hegelina, Helen, Helga, Heloise, Henrietta, Igraine, Imogen, Jacquelyn, Jane, Jean, Jenny, Jill, Juliana, Juliet, Katie, Leela, Lettice, Lilibet, Lilith, Lucy, Luthera, Luz, Lyra, Malyna, Margherita, Marion, Meryl, Millie, Miranda, Molle, Morgana, Morgause, Nezetta, Nina, Novella, Olwen, Oriana, Oriolda, Osanna, Pamela, Petra, Philippa, Revna, Rohez, Rosalind, Rose, Sallie, Sarra, Serphina, Sif, Simona, Sophie, Thomasine, Tiffany, Ursula, Viola, Winifred, Yrsa, Ysabella, Yvaine, Zelda, Zillah

Gender-Neutral/Unisex Names

Adrian, Alex, Aiden, Arden, Ariel, Auden, Avery, Bailey, Blaire, Blake, Brett, Breslin, Caelan, Cadain, Cameron, Charlie, Dagon, Dana, Darby, Darra, Devon, Drew, Dylan, Evan, Felize, Fenix, Fernley, Finley, Glenn, Gavyn, Haskell, Hayden, Hunter, Jace, Jaime, Jesse, Jo, Kai, Kane, Karter, Kieran, Kylin, Landon, Leslie, Mallory, Marin, Meritt, Morgan, Nell, Noel, Oakley, Otzar, Paris, Peregrine, Quant, Quyn, Reagan, Remy, Robin, Rowan, Ryan, Sam, Samar, Sasha, Sloan, Stace, Tatum, Teegan, Terrin, Urbain, Vahn, Valo, Vick, Wallace, Waverly, Whitney, Yardley, Yarden, Zasha

Surnames

Surnames, Patrilineal - First Name (Patrilineal Surname)

Ace, Allaire, Appel, Arrow, Baker, Bamford, Barnard, Beckett, Berryann, Blakewood, Blanning, Bigge, Binns, Bisby, Brewer, Brickenden, Brooker, Browne, Buller, Carey, Carpenter, Carter, Cheeseman, Clarke, Cooper, Ead, Elwood, Emory, Farmer, Fish, Fisher, Fitzroy, Fletcher, Foreman, Foster, Fuller, Galahad, Gerard, Graves, Grover, Harlow, Hawkins, Hayward, Hill, Holley, Holt, Hunter, Jester, Kerr, Kirk, Leigh, MacGuffin, Maddock, Mason, Maynard, Mercer, Miller, Nash, Paige, Payne, Pernelle, Raleigh, Ryder, Scroggs, Seller, Shepard, Shore, Slater, Smith, Tanner, Taylor, Thatcher, Thorn, Tilly, Turner, Underwood, Vaughan, Walter, Webb, Wilde, Wood, Wren, Wyatt, Wynne

Surnames, Townships in G’eth - First Name of (Location)

Abelforth, Argent Keep, Barrow Springs, Barrowmere, Bedford, Brunhelm, Bumble, Casterfalls, Dunbridge, Falmore Forest, Folk’s Bounty, Frostmaid, Fulstad, Heller’s Crossing, Hertfordshire, Humberdale, Inkwater, Little Avery, Marrowton, Mistfall, Mistmire, Morcow, Necropolis-on-Sea, Otherway, Parsendale, Piddlehinton, Port Fairwind, Redcastle, Ransom, Rutherglen, Saint Crois, Tanner’s Folly, Tavern’s Point, Wilmington

Surnames, Geographical Locations in G’eth - First Name of the (Location)

Cove of Calamity, Deep Woods of Falmore, Eastern Isles, Eastern Mountains, Foothills, Frozen Peak, Lakes, Maegor Cobblestones, Northern Mountains, Southern Isle, Tangle, West Coast, Wild Wild Woods, Woods of Angarad

Surnames, Nickname - First Name the (Something) 

Bald, Bastard, Bear, Bearded, Big, Bird, Bold, Brave, Broken, Butcher, Bruiser, Careless, Caring, Charitable, Clever, Clumsy, Cold, Confessor, Coward, Crow, Cyclops, Devious, Devoted, Dog, Dragonheart, Dreamer, Elder, Faithful, Fearless, Fey, Fool, Friend, Generous, Giant, Goldheart, Goldfang, Gouty, Gracious, Great, Hag, Handsome, Hawk, Honest, Huge, Humble, Hungry, Hunter, Innocent, Ironfist, Ironside, Keeper, Kind, Lesser, Liar, Lionheart, Little, Loyal, Magical, Mercenary, Merchant, Messenger, Old, Orphan, Pale, Polite, Poet, Poor, Prodigy, Prophet, Proud, Reliable, Romantic, Rude, Selfish, Sellsword, Scab, Scholar, Shield, Shy, Singer, Sirrah, Slayer, Slug, Small, Stoneheart, Swift, Tadde, Talented, Tart, Tenacious, Timid, Tiny, Tough, Traveller, Trusted, Truthful, Viper, Wizard, Wolf, Wyrm

[angelbornaltruist]

The Ballad of the Two Travelers, Chapter Two

Chapter Two: First Steps to Friendship

Lyra was having a nightmare. She dreamed of an endless war, a pointless battle fueled by a rivalry fueled by things that should have been forgotten long ago. She dreamed of fire and lightning, clashing eternally in the heavens while the world broke. She dreamed of destruction and chaos, of decay and disease that festered and bred in the cracks of the world caused by that endless, pointless, hopeless war.

She dreamed of the cracks growing, laughing, spreading wider and wider still as hatred seeped within and drove everything further apart, a dark, tentacled miasma, reaching ever further in its will to consume all; this great evil Blight which threatened to consume the whole world.

She dreamed of the cracks already forming among her own people; the bitter, hurting wives, sisters, and daughters who in their hurt chose to hurt others, spreading their hate as they wreaked destruction upon the humans; and the few who begged for peace and were dubbed traitors by their kind. She dreamed of the great dark cavern between giantkin and humankind, a yawning abyss that would surely consume them all if they could not learn to cross it–

“L-Lyra? Lyra! Wake up, please!”

Her eyes fluttered open as she heard the anxious cries of her charge. She sat up quickly, looking around for any signs of obvious danger.

“What troubles thee, little one?” she asked after a moment. “I can sense no danger. Why dost thou cry out? Art thou hurt?”

Tristan shook his small head, and Lyra realized with a start he was quivering.

“I-I'm not hurt,” he said after a moment. “But....”

The human boy glanced at something just behind her. Lyra turned, and realized with a chill that the trees near her feet had been split and knocked over. She realized she must have kicked unconsciously in the throes of her nightmare, and had put the human boy in great danger.

“N-Nightmare?” The small voice of the human boy shook her from her disturbed thoughts. She looked down. His face held a look of such fear and apprehension, her heart nearly broke as her eyes met his.

I offer thee my most humble apologies if I have caused thee any distress. It is the duty of one such as I, who layeth claim to the role of maiden, to ensure that her charge is safe no matter what.”

She gently laid her hand in grass before him, a heavy feeling settling over her heart as he took a half-step backwards.

“Y-You don't have to apologize,” Tristan said with a smile that was clearly forced. His bright blue eyes were wide with poorly-concealed fear.

“Little one...” Lyra wanted to comfort him, to say the right words or do the right thing to reassure her little charge that she wished no harm towards him, but she could think of nothing.

She retracted her hand and laid on her side awkwardly, aware of an uneasy silence between them now. Again she wished she knew what to say, how to overcome the inevitable fear and anxiety on the small boy's part, but but her lips remained shut, and she remained silent.

It had been a little over a week since their meeting in the Misted Vales, and they'd made some progress on their journey. They were a day or so away from a human settlement Tristan had pointed out on his map, at which Lyra hoped to speak to the locals and tell them of their quest. She had hoped that Tristan's presence would inspire a call for peace, but she had to be sure that Tristan really trusted her, which had proven to be easier said than done.

Tensions were high on both their parts. Despite the lack of confrontation from either of them, there was a constant sense of disquiet between them both, a fact which maddened Lyra to no end.

It didn't help that traveling alongside a human was somewhat difficult, at least in the physical sense.

Tristan had at first tried to walk alongside Lyra as they made their way, claiming he was quick enough to keep up (he was not) and nimble enough to keep safe (he was not). Lyra, unconvinced, was therefore constantly on edge, afraid that she'd take one wrong step or careless motion and crush her little charge underfoot. She'd insisted upon carrying Tristan as they traveled, either in the palm of her hand, upon her shoulder, or within her pockets, much to the little one's chagrin. Though Tristan concealed his fear whenever they spoke, Lyra could tell he was just as nervous as she was, if not more. She could see it in the way he cast furtive glances whenever he thought she wasn't looking, and in his high-strung, stuttering manner of speech.

Lyra couldn't blame him. Tristan was barely the size of her middle finger, and was somewhat small and slight in build even for a human. To him, every little movement she made must have been terrifying, let alone the sight of her reaching for him, leaning close, or inspecting his body for wounds. Lyra herself felt nervous whenever her fingers brushed against the human's warm skin, feeling for broken bones or bruises. How easily she could bring him to harm with little more than a thought.... it frightened her just as it frightened him.

Lyra understood it would take time for her companion to get used to her, regardless of how desperately she wanted to connect with him. She would be patient, and gentle, and reassuring, as she always did, but she couldn't help but wonder if too gentle was a thing. Lyra had caught a few embarrassed looks and flushed expressions from Tristan as well as the nervous glances. She had considered that Tristan fancied her, and she wasn't entirely sure how she felt about that. To be sure, she found feelings of a kind blossoming towards Tristan; his small size concealed a kindhearted, curious spirit and a recklessness that seemed rather disproportional to his height (it was a miracle Lyra had only found him with a broken arm, she thought. Only four days ago had she caught Tristan attempting to steal the eggs from a blight-touched vulture, nearly falling from a withered tree at least thrice before running towards her screaming as the monstrous bird swooped down at him). All of this was wrapped up by a cute face framed by dark curls and a smile that, even when marred by fear, melted Lyra's heart every time she saw it. She'd come across many humans in her travels before, but Tristan was the cutest by far.

It was a bit of a conundrum for Lyra. On one hand, it was completely normal for a hero and a maiden to share feelings towards each other (if Tristan held any feelings for her at all, that is). Yet it was certainly unusual for a maiden to be able to pluck up her hero between two fingers and cup him in the palm of her hand. What's more, she wasn't sure she had a crush on her little companion, more of an admiration or appreciation. How desperately she wished to get to know him, for their companionship to become a true friendship!

Yet instead they sat in silence, a bridge of unease between them and neither of them brave enough to take the steps to cross it.

Well, Lyra thought. If I am to change anything, I must take that first step.

Tristan looked so small to her; even as she lay on her side she could have rolled over and smothered him with her waist alone. But she had to try.

“Um,” she said in a quiet voice, as not to scare the boy too badly. “Tristan.... I would ask something of thee.”

The human boy glanced at her but said nothing. Lyra took this as a cue, and pressed on. “Um....well.... if we are to be companions on this journey, I would hope that there would be no tension between us. Thou countenance has been laden with fear since we first met,” she said in a gentle tone as a shadow came over Tristan's face. “I would hope to relieve thee of thy worries as we travel on–”

“Have I been being weird?”

The outburst startled Lyra a little, but she smiled when she saw the bashful expression on Tristan's face. The question confused her a bit, however.

“I-I've been trying to get used to it, I really have,” Tristan said, his voice nervous and shaky. “I know we pledged ourselves to the quest, and that I've been an awful companion, and I'm sorry, it's just so strange to have spent so much time alone on a quest everyone said was a foolish endeavor and a naive, stupid dream, and boom, suddenly someone shows up out of the blue and not only says she'd like to accompany you, but actually wants to serve as a maiden? And I know I'm starting to ramble but really, Lyra, this has been a very strange few days for me, especially because you're a – well, you're a....” Tristan suddenly paused, and Lyra noticed a slight blush come over his face.

“A giantess,” she prompted.

“Yeah,” the human said, nodding hastily. “That.”

There was something in his voice, something he was hiding, but Lyra chose not to pry. She had gotten him to open up a bit. That was promising enough.

“Do not feel ashamed, little one,” she said in a comforting voice, slowly moving her hand closer towards him. “This has been strange for me as well. The path of one who pursues hope is always fraught with uncertainty and confusion. To encounter one such as thee, a human of such young age who would willingly leave his home and all he knew, and would willingly travel alongside the age-old enemy of his people, is astonishing to me. I consider myself blessed to have encountered thee, little one.”

Slowly, gently, she brushed her index finger down his tiny back, figuring it was the best she could do for a reassuring pat. She felt Tristan's body tense up, and her heart froze. Did he still feel such fear, even now? But then, to her joy, she realized Tristan was slowly relaxing, his shoulders slumping and his breathing slowing. Their eyes met, and Lyra saw fear, yes, but also a quiet sort of hope, peaking through all fear and uncertainty.

“Blessed?” he asked quietly, and Lyra's heart sang as a tiny, shy smile came over his lips.

“Yes,” Lyra replied quietly, nodding earnestly. “Blessed, little companion of mine. So please, do not be afraid. I swore an oath, to protect thee and guide thee. I would not let any human come to harm in my presence. Especially not thyself.” She allowed herself a grin. “Thou art mine, in a sense. My companion, my partner.... my friend.”

She gently rested her index and middle fingers over the boy's shoulders, figuring it was the best she could do for a comforting embrace. A warmth spread through her as she felt Tristan reciprocate, hugging her fingers against his cheek.

“Friends,” he said after a moment. “I... well, I like the sound of that. Friends.”

“Tis a simple sort of beauty in the word, no?” Lyra agreed.

They remained like that for some time, enjoying each what little touch of warmth they shared against the coldness of the Misted Vales. Then, Lyra sat up, and gently laid her palm out before him once more.

“Come hither,” she said. “Let us embark once more.”

Her hand was at least twice as long as Tristan was tall. Lyra still marveled at how there could be an entire race of beings that were so small. Yet Tristan had hesitated once more, his eyes looking downward at the palm and fingers that dwarfed him.

There was a moment of silence, long enough that Lyra had just resolved to retract her hand, cursing herself for moving too fast – then Tristan took a step forward, meeting her gaze with a excited sort of nervousness upon his face.

His steps were light, almost imperceptible against the flesh of Lyra's palm. It almost tickled her, but that may have merely been her excitement tickling her instead of the sensation of little feet walking against her hand.

Tristan slowly bent down until he sat, neatly snuggled in her palm. She had an entire life, in the palm of her hand... and what was more, that little life had placed himself there willingly. She hadn't scooped him up hastily, she hadn't plucked him up despite his protests, no, he had taken his life, and placed it Lyra's hands – literally.

She felt a soft tapping sensation upon her palm, and looked directly at the little traveler, forcing herself from her thoughts.

“If we're to be friends,” Tristan said, now wearing a mischievous grin, “I'll have to teach you to speak like a normal person. All those thee's and thou's are giving me a headache.”

Lyra raised an eyebrow, and lightly prodded him in the ribs, but she was smiling all the same.

“We shall see, little one. I am happy to see that thou hast developed a sense of wit in learning to trust me.”

Tristan grinned. Lyra grinned back, and she felt it in her spirit, something ancient and unknowable. She couldn't explain it even if she tried. But there was something in sharing a smile with a friend, something that she would protect as fiercely as she would protect the little life she held in her hand.

[queer-ragnelle]

I am so sorry if you have answered this before, I was just wondering if you knew of a good way to get into Arthurian literature? Like… what to read first and what definitely not to read first?

Everything I can find when I search for a good list or order talks about modern retellings, but I am not sure how to get into the older ones. They are a bit hard to approach, so I am worrying that I may be going about it wrong.

I’ve just been slowly collecting different tellings from old book stores over the years, but there is so much that I am not sure where to begin..

hi there! no need to apologize, it's all very overwhelming and confusing. i've answered this question before, but have since added more literature, so i'll go in depth. :^) determining where to start really depends on what you're looking to get out of your reading experience.

lots of people recommend le morte d'arthur by sir thomas malory for an overall understanding of the basic premise without having to read the long and scary vulgate cycle. but as i said in this ask, it's not my favorite text, as it truncates the story so much it can cause confusion. yet it's the "shortest" (ie 1,000 pages lol) recounting of events from arthur's conception through his death, as well as incorporating the often-excluded story from the prose tristan, and adding character-defining elements we've all come to accept as part of the "canon" such as gareth beaumains's humble beginnings as a kitchen boy. (in the vulgate, his story is largely the same as the elder bros he tags along with. in fact, @lefresne and i discovered each of us had a transcription/translation of the vulgate which referenced two different manuscripts of the same story, but had swapped the names guerrehet/gaheriet [gareth/gaheris] and confused the hell out of us bc we had varied accounts of the same scene and were both right! scribes mistake? point is there's not a substantial differentiation between them until the post vulgate and le morte d'arthur, so reading that will give you needed context/depth!)

on the other hand, le morte d'arthur doesn't include some even later additions to the "canon" that are now famous and get incorporated into many retellings, such as sir gawain and the green knight and the wedding of sir gawain and dame ragnelle. (are these a deal breaker to comprehend a retelling? not necessarily. but despite gawain's track record with many ladies, if an author writes in a wife for him, on god, they always choose ragnelle. so that poem is a must<3)

so it's really your own judgment call! no matter what, you'll likely need to read more than one book for fuller context to understand the common "fandom" talking points and frequently adapted stories. in any case, i've just made an FAQ where you can go and figure out what stories will suit your needs. i hope this helps. have a nice day!

[wordycheeseblob]

The princes as Knights from Arthurian legends

Leon - King Arthur, brave and noble

Chevalier - Lancelot du Lac was extremely intelligent and known as the greatest fighter and swordsman of all the Knights of the Round Table

Clavis - Gawain, closest to Lancelot and because It was this rift between Lancelot and Gawain that ultimately set the stage for Mordred’s (Gilbert's) takeover of the Kingdom.

Note: at first I thought knight Meliagraunce would make a hilariously good Clavis because, oh boy, he 1. kidnapped the queen betraying Arthur 2. Lancelot was forced to come on a rescue facing an ambush and sacrificing his white horse to about 50 arrows 3. When they showed him mercy he challaned Lancelot to a duel in several days and then proceeded to drag Lancelot for a sightseeing of his castle 4. Betrayed him AGAIN when Lancelot fell in a trap pit, because of course 6. Waited for him on the day of the duel with Arthur as a witness (Lancelot showed up which Meliagraunce didn't expect) but then I thought Meliagraunce made a better "lord Flandre"

Yves - sir Gareth (Beaumains) he comes from noble blood, but would rather be known for his actions than for his illustrious lineage. He is said to be very good looking or "the goodliest man I ever say" as Arthur Leon put it. He's mild mannered and polite no matter how harshly others treated him because of his dubious lineage. Lancelot Chevalier and Gawain Clavis looked after him in their own ways and Gareth looked up to Lancelot Chevalier a lot. He was also a kitchen page for a year.

Jin - sir Bedivere, loyal to Arthur til the end.

Nokto - Agravain mostly because "Agravain is known for this sharp tongue and at times his ungentlemanly-like conduct. In some instances, he is even portrayed as being malicious and villainous" but maybe Agravain should be Clavis or Silvio because he helped in Mordred's (Gilbert's) insidious plot? Then idk maybe Tristan would make a good Nokto substitute because of his knowledge in arts and his romance with Isolde, still not sure about this one. The only fact stopping me is Agravain is Gaheri' (Licht) brother while Tristan is not.

Licht - sir Gaheris, often acted as Gawain's voice of consciousness and in one version beheaded his own mother (but that's another story)

Luke - Percival, came from humble beginnings raised by his mother. He has a sister too. He's sometimes portrayed as simple and almost foolish but his natural prowess lead him to Arthur's court.

Sariel - Merlin, no explanation needed

Keith - sir Kay, also known by his epithet, the Tall. Also "At times, Sir Kay was unpredictable and had a cruel and violent temper (alter Keith), but he was Arthur’s (Leon's) guardian and one of his most faithful companions.

Gilbert - Mordred. Come on, even the name is evil. Set up the stage for King Arthur's downfall by planting the seed of jealous feelings in Arthur of the closeness of his best knight, Lancelot (Cheva), and the Queen.

Emma - Guinevere, the queen, fairest of them all. Was wrongly accused of treason (twice) and sentenced to burn. Many a times did Lancelot rescue her, the last time accidentally killing Gaheris(Licht) and Gareth (Yves) because they were in the crowd and whisked Guinevere(Emma) away to the castle of Joyous Gard till the Kings anger was past. Lady of the water is an alternative

[steve0discusses]

S5 Ep 50: Tristan Hates Horses, I Think

Been a while! Tumblr’s annoying as hell changes to the text editor took a lot of wind out of my sails, ngl. It had some problems they're resolving as they go, but it was really annoying to use and to edit if you write any amount of youknow……words….

And I was talking to a friend about this, and they were like “have you tried writing it in google docs and copy pasting it after?” And I happily realized when you copy paste from google docs, it also copies the PICTURES. This has literally saved hours of my life, y'all. It has turned something that was so frustrating I didn't want to open tumblr again into something that is no longer an obstacle so I can write once more!

So lets travel to Yugi’s brain, where Tristan desperately has to make up for all the work he hasn’t done because he was just a wee tiny bit possessed.

It may be hard to pick up where Tristan is on this picture, and I hope I recorded it somewhere in OBS like 2 months ago when I finished the series because it was such a funny animation, but hot damn this boy has hops.

And  you can see him there on the ground in the bottom left corner, that isn’t a rock, that’s Tristan having toppled a man with his bare hands, a man who had a sword and was sitting on an armored horse.

Can you believe this guy ran for school president? And then lost and humbly became the janitor?

Meanwhile, Joey discovered magic.

Confirmation that duel disks are made out of old tank parts.

Realizing for the first time that magic exists, they decide to peace out.

Back in the real world, Mokuba and Roland don’t know where the hell Seto went. Which is weird, I figured Seto would at least leave a note or a text message or…anything…but apparently even if he did, he just disappeared at some point down in Marik’s old living room.

So Roland and Mokuba decided that in order to find him, they would have to take a massive Boeing 747 to find their lost child.

Some kids have a motorcycle, some kids have a scooter, Mokuba just wants the most boring ass big commercial plane that is meant to sit a couple hundred people in an awkward way. That’s what Mokuba wants.

Just Mokuba things.

My bro who edits these for me wrote in huge ass letters "ROLAND SIGHTING" While saying "ROLAND ROLAND ROLAND" so I want y'all to know how much we appreciate a good Roland in this house.

Speaking of, I know it's like season 5 but...who is the other guy? He wears funny sunglasses but I have never heard his name, not once.

But this is when the plane was filled with heavenly light.

They begin to see the fight happening between Seto Kaiba (the OG Seto, the one that is cool and isn’t depressed because his not-wife died) and Bakura (who is now Zorc). Don’t ask me how the time stuff works, and why we see it now of all the times in human history, and right over Egypt in the sky. Don’t ask me why.

I assume it’s time compression shenanigans, just like FF8, so maybe it’s just every moment in time is able to see this UFO in the sky, but overall, it’s here because it looks cool. The fact that this right here is actually not a physical place, but is actually a figment of Yugi’s imagination shaped by Pharaoh’s botchy memories--is neither here nor there. Instead, it’s everywhere. 

Seto is unimpressed by this, because he knows how science and timelines should work, and this wouldn’t pass Kaiba Corp inspection.

Back at the yellow palace made of cheese and mario blocks, Pharaoh is still knocked out from that time he summed all 3 dragons last episode, which to me feels like just eons ago. 

But it’s OK, he’s fine now.

Typically he’d be dead, because his dragons died on the battlefield and their life force is connected to their monsters. But not only is Pharaoh 1.) already dead and 2.) the author of this universe and cannot die or this universe ceases to exist he’s 3.) got the puzzle, which means he can’t actually perma die, unlike everyone else in his court who is perma-gone.

He is not surprised by what is currently happening in Egypt’s downtown strip.

This is probably every day in Domino. Every day Seto Kaiba wakes up everyone in town with his three-headed dragon princess just because he can. Hell, Seto was doing this fight with Bakura on the top towers of Domino just this morning (or last morning…not sure if time passes in real life the same way it does in puzzle life)

The audacity of Yami right now, the one moment Yugi isn’t there to scream about ledges, this boy is leaping joyfully off that ledge. 

He fuses with the dragon which gives him this familiar outfit.

I thiiiiink it’s the same outfit as Alexander season? I’ll be real with you though, I don’t really want to look it up. Either way, good to see the return of putting on a ton of armor in a card game, I don't think we've seen it Canonically since that one time Joey did it against Valon, and ever since then, Joey kind of forgot it was a thing he can just do.

But unlike Joey, Yami doesn’t take the opportunity to punch Zorc in the face, instead he just loses yet another time.

This time he didn’t even pass out, he barely even died. This is progress, truly.

But as Zorc is powering up the peepee missile to fire in Yami’s face (what a way to die!), Shadi has decided to inform us why he’s been stalking these kids for this entire show.

So there’s two ways to read this. 1.) Shadi was Hassan the entire time but had to go back in time from this moment in order to do it or 2.) Shadi possessed the power of Hassan last second so Yami could avoid death one final time.

Both of these explanations don’t fully make sense to me, I’ll be honest, because in order to know that he’ll be needed in the first place, Shadi had to know that Yami would die at this particular moment--a moment that is a different timeline than has ever existed before.

So really, Shadi was just going by a hunch. He was like “I dunno, I’ll see how this goes.” which is more in line with the Shadi we know and love.

Is it a crying shame that Shadi, who has been with us for so many seasons, and it so integral to this show had such an unceremonious death? Yeah. I feel like I didn’t quite get the closure I wanted but I’m also sort of confused as to…what happened. But I’ll leave it there because apparently we get more Shadi content in Dark Side of Dimensions.

Anyway, I have no idea if these images will even fit into a post with how how tumbler does posts nowadays, and I'll be real I had to re upload the last bit of it, which I suspect was over 15 images???? Not sure??? but we found a workaround! google docs works!

Also, Seto didn’t die today! Instead it was Shadi! For a SECOND time!

I cannot believe how freakin lucky Mana is, this girl is still kicking and if Mana survives everything I am…going to be astonished, that’s what. Mana secretly OP, who knew?

And always you can read the rest of these here

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

if I turn it into a link it doesn't work right because the text editor is really, really bad. I hate it a lot. But uh...feel free to copy paste it until I can get links to cooperate.

[afatlotofchance]

The Prince and the Sorcerer (part 1)

I had to split this commission in two given how long it was. This was a commission about the commissioner's OC, the spoiled, gluttonous and fat prince Tristan, meeting his just dessert at the hands of a recently hired court mage. Enjoy!

Evan wanted to check his appearance once more. Since he had no mirrors or polished metal nearby, he merely used his third sight.

No matter how hard he tried, he could never manage to find an appearance pleasant to his eyes. His ears were too big and sticking out too much. His brown hair formed a straight mop that, while not ugly, certainly wasn’t above the average. While being tall and gangly made his cheekbones more defined, giving him quite a good face, it still made him prone to insulting nicknames, like scarecrow or bony-witch. But at least he was clean, perfumed, wearing sumptuous robes. He hoped that would balance the rest.

He was tempted to use just a bit of glamour, but he had no time for that. He could already hear a guard coming. Evan closed his third sight as he heard a booming voice:

“Our Majesties are ready to receive you.”

Evan followed the guard. He was a bit nervous, actually. It wasn’t every day you met with the royal family, or were appointed at the court. Especially when you were of humble origins, like Evan.

Don’t be foolish, the young magician said to himself. You’ve fought monsters, dealt with familiars, chatted with elementals, and you would be nervous in front of humans, people just like you?

No, not just like him. These were high-born, blue-blooded, god-chosen humans. Royals. A king, a queen and a prince. Royals who apparently had enough means and powers to contact the great and powerful sorcerer Rummuel, the most renowned magician of all the continent, and to convince him to lend them one of his three faithful apprentices to become their own private court magician for a period of seven years!

“I’ll be up to the task, master!” Evan had claimed upon hearing the good news. “I’ll show them how worth I was of your teaching! I’ll blind them with the highest spheres of the Arcanas! I’ll…”

“How you go my boy!” Rummuel muttered. “You won’t need all that. You will merely be a court wizard. Doesn’t need much qualifications these days. Any apprentice like you can do that. You will merely be a consultant – advising the king – and a defender – protecting the royals. All you need is a bit of knowledge and some moves to fight. As long as you can clean curses, repel bad spirits and speak the old languages, everything should be alright. Oh, and don’t forget to be a show off. Kings usually like big, flashy, sparkling things. They’re not interested into real magic, they wouldn’t even recognize a black-flamed candle, they just want to show other people they have a magician and that he can do wonderful things. Not useful things. Just wonderful ones. It won’t improve your magic, but you’ll get to know more about how royalty and nobility works – a knowledge you clearly lack.”

Evan still grunted at the sour memory of his encounter with the King that Went Fishing.

But at least, he was chosen to be the one. Not Dyfan, not Aedan, him, the apprentice everyone just remembered for being young and clumsy. He was going to show them he could be as much of a good wizard as they were – and not because he was a nobleman’s son like Dyfan, not because he grew up with viziers and sultans like Aedan, but merely because he was a talented, genius, extraordinary magic user!  

Evan was taken out of his thoughts by the sounds of trumpets being blown and two huge doors being opened. He straightened himself, stood tall, puffed up his chest and walked proudly in there.

“Remember. Shine. Show them who’s powerful here.” he thought to himself.

The throne room was enormous, the size of a cathedral. Evan walked behind the guards on a red carpet the size of a road, between pillars of stone as enormous as the old oaks.

“Evan of Hastings, third apprentice of the great sorcerer Rummuel!”

He finally reached the end of the throne room, an enormous wall covered in gold. In this wall, in this gold, was carved the picture of a royal family: a king, a queen, a prince and a princess, with a knight standing by their side, hands on his sword. All were giants, and all had no faces, making the representation slightly disturbing. Ever since his adventures at the Blackworm Castle he had a bit of a hard time with things without faces.

Three big thrones, also made of pure gold, stood before him, one of them empty.

On the central throne rested King Ralston. He looked like a jolly and affable man – but not without an aura of strength and power. Evan was quite good at reading people’s auras, and despite the bright smile and courteous face, the king was clearly burling with frustrations and dissatisfactions. He seemed to be bearing a sense of guilt, burden and unfairness. His aura was that of a man about to hit something just to vent off his anger. And he certainly looked like he could hit something strong. He was a big man of thick built, muscular and portly all at once. Curls of long, sandy blond hair fell on each side of his round face – his cheeks and chin soft and fleshy, under a thin honey-colored bear. His fur-trimmed burgundy coat seemed ridiculously small compared to his sturdy body and flat but fleshy, almost padded belly. His orange and golden doublets stretched on his broad shoulders and enormous arms. Evan had seen none so big before – they were the size of hams! A big golden chain was also stretched tightly on his wide and prominent chest. The king was playing mindlessly with one of his rings, a big circle of gold with a pointy diamond, and as he did, Evan saw the muscles of his arm and chest bulge and flex under the tight cloth. But what struck the most Evan was the power of his cold, icy blue stare.

He bore a warm smile and opened his arms.

“Welcome, Evan of Hastings! We are honored to meet the apprentice of the great Rummuel!”

“The pleasure is equally shared, Majesty. I am honored to be in the presence of my King and his Heir.” Evan answered while kneeling.

“Queen Ermine is unfortunately at the castle of the Rogue River for the moment, but she should be back in a matter of months. Let me introduce you to my only son and heir: Prince Tristan!”

Evan stood up and looked at the throne on the far right – the largest of the three golden thrones. On it sat a boy of such girth that Evan thought his mind was playing tricks on him. But it wasn’t any illusion, the boy was indeed of that enormous size! Could he be sick? No, he seemed quite lively: in fact, he was devouring a big lamb leg, that he held by the bone like one would brandish a scepter or a magic wand.

Like his father, Tristan was blond in hair and blue of eyes with thin brows, but his curls were of a lighter, more golden shade, and his eyes of a deeper and darker blue. Outside of that, he bore little to no resemblance to his father. Beardless, lacking the king’s big nose, his features were much more delicate, almost feminine. An elegant and thin nose, almond-shaped eyes, a thin mouth with well-drawn lips…

But Tristan suffered from an enormous, indecent, incredible fatness. The boy was as big as an ogre could get – and not an ounce of muscle appeared in this flabby mass. His round belly spilled itself onto his lap, while bloated love handles hanged on each side of his body, his blue shirt tight on his excess of flesh. Instead of a manly chest, his was as feminine as his traits – two tremendous pectorals, reminding Evan of the plump breasts of these fertility idols he once saw in the dark woods. His face was even rounder and fuller than that of his father, to the point that it stopped being round and became rather pear-like in shape, his plump jowls and overgrown cheeks completely hiding his jaw under thick layers of flab, making his face like a mound of soft butter.

But the strangest thing, strangest above all, was just how beautiful Tristan looked. Surely one with a face that stretched, widened and exaggerated by the excess of flesh should have been hideous to look at. But here, it changed nothing to the delicateness of his traits, carved in the butter mound like one would carve a precious gem. Again, statues and idols came to the mind of Evan, but these time those of the beautiful, eternally young and perfectly muscled gods of the arts and of the light.

“Are you really a wizard, small boy?” the Prince asked. “You don’t look much like one to me.”

Evan guessed the “small” must have been about his own skinniness, for Tristan must have been around Evan’s age, even though it was hard to tell with all of his curves. The Prince’s aura was very faint, like if he had none at all, the wizard merely seeing some translucent blue light – but it could have been very well a simple trick of his eyes, due to his vivid blue shirt. It was like if this boy was barely feeling any emotion at all.

Yet, the look on his face was clearly one of disdain. Not an outright mockery, but a sly cruelty Evan knew too well.

“I can assure you, my lord, that I am the apprentice of the great magician Rummuel, who took me when I was twelve of age and has since raised me in his tower alongside his other apprentices, and taught me many things about spells, potions, magic and the other worlds.”

“Then, prove that you are indeed a boy of magic.” ordered Tristan while taking a bite of the lamb leg (which was so greasy and dripping with sauce that Evan was amazed that the prince had no stain on either his clothes or face). “Do a miracle.”

Evan got his body ready. It was now, the moment of truth, the display of his great powers. What would decide everything: how the royals saw him, how the court would see him, what the kingdom was going to see in him. Will he be admired, mocked or feared? No mistakes were allowed here.

Evan was pretty sure he could meet a lot of the prince’s expectations. Except raise the dead. Or create life. Or show him the true face of God. Or… Oh gosh, what if the prince asked him some levitation? He could do a mere object, but what if the Prince asked Evan to make him levitate? He couldn’t possibly raise such an enormous mass! At least not without ripping one of his muscles, or seriously damaging something in the room!

“Make your shadow dance.”

Evan sighed with relief. Then looked at the prince in his dark, disdaining eyes.

“What?”

“I read once the legend of a powerful magician on an island far away. He could fly and make people’s wish come true. He talked with fairies and was perpetually young. And he could make his shadow dance and act in his place. Can you make your shadow dance?”

Well, that was going to be easy. Just a bit of shadow puppetry. No need to sell your soul to pesky, annoying, manipulative, whore fairies to do so.

“It will be as easy as blinking, my lord.”

Well, almost. It was as easy as spilling some grains of a magic powder to make the shadow a material of its own, whispering some words to wake up and heat the shadow, and then moving your arms, hands and fingers around to move the shadow. Evan made it dance, jump, spin, go from one wall to another. It was merely playing with the lights, but in reverse, so that the people would be focused on the shadow, not the light. It was liking writing a word by darkening everything around it. He was there, all white and shining, but you technically hadn’t written it. You just made it appear. Same thing with the shadow.

Tristan was flabbergasted, eyes wide opened. He even forgot the half-eaten lamb leg, dropping it on the floor. Ralston’s smile had subtly shifted – it was now an uneasy, worried smile. But his eyes were shining like those of a child.

Evan put his shadow back into place and made a small reverence.

“Could you do mine?” the prince asked.

“Your shadow?”

“Yes, of course! Make my shadow dance!”

“I could… If your highness wouldn’t mind approaching me. I don’t want to catch the throne’s shadow with your own, that would be problematic.”

The prince grunted, but obliged. He got out of the throne and walked until he was right in front of Evan. He couldn’t get really close to him, because his belly was standing in the way, but he got close enough that Evan inadvertently sank the tip of his fingers into the prominent gullet. He immediately took them off, his face getting slightly sweaty because of such an impudent mistake, but Tristan simply showed a snarking smile.

Now that the Prince was so close to Evan, the young wizard realized just how impressive he really was. Despite him being shorter than Evan, probably of four or five inches, he still managed to have this feeling of… of bigness, this impression of… of roundness… he was like he was all over the place and you were just standing his way, taking up his space, no matter where you were… And Evan felt more like a beanpole or a twig than he ever did. The thought “I should put on some weight” even crossed his mind before he shook it off.

“Don’t get irrational or ridiculous now. Focus on the task.”

But it was hard to focus with Tristan looking at him. His face was indeed one of rare beauty, there was no mistake here. In fact, his facial features reminded him of those a fox spirit took once to seduce him, on a beach in a faraway island… by a blue night and a big moonlight… it was the hour of nightmares, and the sand was grey, and the sea was…

Evan shook his head. Get to work. Dust, words, arms. Magic.

The prince’s face beamed with glee upon seeing his rotund and massive shadow move around him.

“Make it jump!”

Evan obeyed.

“Make it run now! Faster! Make it leap! Make it walk on all fours! Like a dog! Good! Now make it dance! Make it do the wheel! Like a jester! Yes! More! Make it move! More! Faster! Again! Quick!”

Evan obeyed again and again as Tristan’s talking became pure barking. Evan disliked people who spoke too loudly.

“Perfect!” Tristan finally roared.

He turned towards the king.

“I’ll take him, father. He is to my taste! Now, all this running made me hungry! I’ll go the dining hall if official affairs need my attention.”

And thus Tristan left without a goodbye or a look to Evan, his gut jiggling and lifting itself with every step.

The King stood up. Despite being a big, strong and tall man, he certainly wasn’t giving off the same feelings of enormousness and massiveness that his son did. In fact, his size seemed now much more normal to Evan.

“Evan of Hastings, you are now officially our court’s new magician! I’ll have my son’s personal servant show you your quarters.”

“Already? I mean, huh… Don’t you want me to do something for you? I mean, you, the king? I could do things more… impressive. More useful. I could show you much more.”

“No need for that. You impressed my son. That was all that needed to be done. I have knights to meet. We will held a feast for your arrival tonight.”

Evan bowed down.

He was a bit surprised, if not worried, that he got the job so easily. So, master Rummuel was right, huh? Royals just wanted pretty things and show-off tricks. Not real magic. In fact, Aedan had said something in this vein… “It’s a king that’s interested in real magic that is to fear.”

Well, king Ralston certainly didn’t think of any real magic. Evan had unconsciously caught his last thought before he left the throne room – something any user of high magic could do when people were thinking really hard of one thing only.

He was wishing for a lot of good ale and a roasted pig. 

XXX

“Here are your quarters, sire. Our master’s room is at the end of the hallway. This bell will ring whenever he needs you.”

“I wasn’t expecting to live near to the king! I thought I would be with the knights, or the other court members!” Evan laughed.

The servant looked at him. That was certainly one tired servant, with bags under his eyes. His face twitched from time to time. His aura was full of worry and nervousness, all blurry and swarming, like a pack of worms. He must have been around Evan’s age, and he was as gangly as him. In fact, he looked a lot like Evan himself, minus the big ear. The most notable difference was their hair: his mop was the color of rust.

“I am talking about prince Tristan, sorcerer. Not the king.”

“The prince? But I am the court wizard – I answer to the king, not the prince.”

The servant started to nervously play with his callus-riddled fingers.

“That’s what they told you?”

“Well…”

“You are prince Tristan’s personal wizard, master Evan. That is why you were brought here. You are a court wizard, indeed, but of the prince’s court. The King merely wanted to please his son.”

“There must be a mistake here…”

“Braden!”

The scream boomed across the hallway. Authoritarian, merciless, hard as stone – but without mistake, that of the prince.

There was a weird gurgle, followed by:

“Come here! I need a belly massage!”

“Yes, my prince!”

The servant bolted towards the prince’s room, running like a terrified rabbit.

Evan looked at him go, then at the door to his quarters.

“No, I’m sure the King will need me. He will call me by his side soon.”

XXX

He never did. Not even after several weeks, nearly an entire month.

Evan finally had to admit the sad truth: he was merely a personal entertainer for Tristan. Only the prince was asking for his services – and always only for low, petty tricks, to amuse either him or his guests. Often nobles or knights, once a princess from a foreign land. There were rumors of an engagement, but she was clearly disgusted by the portly prince.

“Do these things with the cups and the coin!” “Make my shadow move once more!” “Can you change the color of these flowers?” “Can you make this chocolate cake taste like a blueberry cake?” “Make this cup disappear!”

Never a kind word, never a thank, never a please. Only orders, commands and barking. And thus, day after day, Evan was forced to do mere prestidigitation spells. Playing with lights, shadows and colors. Creating reflections out of smoke. Making objects disappear and reappear, which was merely moving them where Tristan couldn’t see them – the prince certainly wasn’t seeing the difference, so Evan wasn’t going to bother. Tristan wasn’t even interested in how Evan did it or to learn some magic basis – for him, seeing Evan do magic on his orders was just like if he did magic himself. Anyway, Evan did not dare to imagine what the boy could do with magic. He shivered at the image of the obese prince turning his servants into human-shaped chocolate cakes before devouring them.

Because the Prince was certainly the embodiment of gluttony. No wonder how he got to that enormous size of his: he was always eating, no matter what time of the day. Waking up, the first thing he asked for was food, in his bed. While taking his bath he ate apples, potatoes and melons – grapes and bread and butter and cheese while dressing up. When taking his princely lessons, he had several veals served to him. After each meal, no matter if it was pigs or boars, he had another meal, either muttons or cows. And when he was doing nothing and got bored, the first think he thought of, before asking for a jester or a musician or a juggler or Evan, was requesting pies and cakes and other sweets. And he devoured all of his food swiftly and quickly – but always with a strange grace, a weird elegance preventing any kind of stain to soil his face or his clothes. Evan kept wondering how the prince could eat so much without getting sick – himself was getting nausea just by watching his meals.

He also pitied Tristan’s young taster. Around the prince’s age, with weird strawberry blond, almost orange hair. Young but already plump and fat, with a prominent belly and an even more prominent stomach. No wonder given how much dishes he had to taste.

“Aren’t you tired of eating all day and following Tristan everywhere?” Evan had asked him.

The young taster – receiving a relaxing stomach massage by one of the lesser servants – answered that, no, he didn’t mind at all.

“I can live in a castle, wear fine clothes and eat my fill of luxurious food!” he said with a smile. “It’s more than I could ever hope for! I was merely a commoner, skinny and sick as a chicken carcass and now look at me!”

He slapped his belly.

“Fat as a goose, spoiled as a pig, healthy as a horse, serving the prince, living with noblemen’s sons! My parents would be proud if they were still alive!”

But he was clearly nauseous and tired. Pale in the face, with bags under the eyes like Braden. He knew the boy was prone to stomach aches. In fact, his belly seemed as hard as a stone and his flesh bore the bright red marks of a skin overstretched by a sudden gain of mass. Evan gave him soothing herbs, for his belly, and started preparing an ointment to repair his skin, but if this went on, he feared the young boy would only get weaker and sicker.

XXX

Evan tried to talk to the King, to attract his attention. Without any results. He talked to him about protecting with magic the royal bloodline from any curse, possession or evil spirit. Not interested. He asked to get a laboratory in order to work on healing potions. The prince wasn’t ill, so no. He brought up the subject of investigating and studying the supernatural and magical inhabitants of the kingdom. He was laughed at. The only time he ever got to have a real conversation with the King was when he asked about the Prince’s taster, either because the subject was more of interest, or because all the beer he had gulped had mellowed him out.

“How come a mere commoner is the prince’s taster? I heard usually the taster was the son of a rival or dubious member of the court, or the son of the chef himself.

King Ralston burped before answering.

“The head chief’s son is always Tristan’s first taster. But he current head chief’s son died when he choked in his sleep. He was so fat it weighed on his throat and crushed his chest. We did the children of all the cooks – all choked up or had their heart merely stop or explode. So then we put the children of the potential plotters and conspirators – they all died. Stomach exploding, poisoning or visceral abnormalities. And they kept lasting less and less… So now we take orphans from the gutter. Easy to raise, and easy to dispose of.”

The King must have noticed the disapproving look of Evan.

“But if you want, you could become my son’s taster! In this way, Tristan would have you at all time. And don’t worry you’ll be paid twice as much! Are you interested?”

XXX

Evan was tired. Tired not only of the petty tricks Tristan kept asking, not only of taking orders from this enormous, flabby mount of pudding that kept laughing like an overgrown baby at any silliness in sight, but also tired of the cruelty the prince was forcing him to perpetrate. For indeed, Tristan had taken a new interest in magic upon learning that it could be a very good way to punish his servants.

It happened when a nervous young man – as nervous and young as all the other servants of Tristan – had spilled some too-hot water on the prince’s fat body while he was taking his bath. The prince screamed and got out of the bath, still naked, looking for a whip to hit the young man. The servant had gotten on the floor, crying, pleading for mercy. Tristan shouted: “Yes, crawl on the floor, like a dog begging for scraps!” And then he stopped, and looked at Evan.

“Can you make him a dog?”

“I beg your pardon, your Majesty?”

“Could you turn him into a dog? That’s what witches and wizards do, isn’t it? Turn people into animals. Well, turn him into a dog!”

Evan was lucky to be quick of thought. He explained to Tristan that it would be hard for him to turn a human into a dog – due to the different of masses, of how he would need to store the excess organs somewhere, of how he should find additional hair to add to the body, how he could encourage the body to evolve into that of a dog but it would be far too slow for any enjoyment… All of which was true. Evan couldn’t turn this man into a dog. At least, not as a mere, humble wizard.

But Tristan was terribly unhappy with the situation. Evan could pick up his thoughts and his mood – the prince right now was frustrated. He thought Evan was without any use or purpose, lacked any talent or ace. He started to doubt the role of Evan here, thought of punishing him, banishing him, discarding him. So Evan had to find an alternative.

“However, my prince… It is possible, as easy as pie, to make him think he is a dog. Convince him that he is not human anymore, make him act like a pet animal. The spirit is easier to mold than the flesh. Of course, it won’t be permanent, but probably enough to fit your… enjoyment?”

Tristan nodded.

“It would be funny to watch. I’m a bit disappointed, because I wanted to eat some dog’s meat, but it could be a punishment humiliating enough. And he would beg for scraps?”

Ignoring the subtle reference to cannibalism, Evan answered:

“Indeed, he would beg for your scraps. “

“And he won’t bite back when I hit him?”

“I can make him into a dog that bites back if you want.”

“No. Make him my slave. Obedient, stupid, weak. Won’t be much work to do, he is already all of these things.”

Tristan got back into the bath, waiting for the magic to happen.

Evan worked on the poor scarred fellow – through whispers, and looks, and hand gestures. He had lie only on one point – he could make sure the hypnosis would be permanent. But he wasn’t going to let Tristan have this pleasure. He would undo it later and pretend it was the natural withering of the spell.

Soon the servant was barking, drooling and rolling on the floor, begging for scratches on his belly.

Tristan had his fun, laughed and applauded.

And soon he asked for Evan every time he needed to punish a servant. Sometimes he even decided to punish them for no real reason, just to see Evan work his magic. Sometimes he had to change the color of someone’s hair or skin. Other times it was making them act like beast, or making them grow too much hair. He had to torture them through petty illusions, like making them believe they had insects crawling all over them, or that the floor was melted lava.

But the real lava, the real burning fire, was in Evan’s heart, swelling up until… 

XXX

It happened during a great feast.

The taster got sick. Well, he was already sick before – it was hard not to notice it in the past weeks. His belly had gotten even rounder, his skin stretched over his quickly-adding excess fat. His skin had gotten a yellowish tint. He couldn’t stand the wearing of a belt, for it gave him strong gazes and pain – and his feet had begun to swell, making it harder for him to walk.

But this time, a sudden nausea had taken over him while in the middle of tasting Tristan’s meal. He was yellow and green in the face, his stomach even more bloated than usual. He groaned, whispering that he couldn’t take another bite, that he was too full. Tristan, munching on some bread, didn’t listened and simply ordered him to taste the soups that had just been served. The taster excused himself once more, explaining that one more gulp of anything would make him vomit. Tristan, without any sign of wrath, disdain or concern, merely said. “Don’t waste my precious food. If you can’t taste anymore, you’re of no use. Someone else will take your place. Guards, throw him out of the castle.”

The taster begged Tristan for one more chance. He got on his knees, crying and pleading, which was hard for him between the gurgling and moaning of his belly, ready to expulse whatever he had in him.

Tristan laughed. “You’re only good at eating! Beside that you don’t have any use! You’re wasting my time, and annoying me… My mercy has thinned, I don’t intend on letting you go like that. First give me back what you stole from me!”

Tristan turned his head towards Evan.

“Give me back my food!”

“My prince, what do you mean?”

“Take back my food from his belly! Move it into mine! You can move objects, right? Then do it!”

“My prince, it will be a bit…”

“Do it!” the prince shouted.

Everybody was looking at Evan. The court sorcerer had no choice.

“I’m sorry.” he whispered to the taster.

He could have teleported the food directly from one stomach to another, but it would have been too dangerous – there was a risk of putting it into the prince’s heart or lungs, Evan needed to see clearly where the object was and where it would end up. He had to take another option. A messier one.

Evan used all of his concentration to take the food out of the taster’s stomach, through his throat and mouth, flying into the hair, and then into Tristan’s mouth. Everybody looked with horror at the greasy and gleaming pieces of food, still dripping with saliva and stomach acid, as they flew to the prince’s face. Tristan wasn’t horrified. He smiled and opened his mouth wide – and in the food went! Tristan gulped and munched, his cheeks as stuffed as those of a squirrel, moaning with happiness. The taster was shedding tears – for it was a strange and uncomfortable feeling that to have one’s belly emptied.

Evan saw all of that. The disgust on the courtiers faces. The pain of the taster. The glee of Tristan. Evan got fed up. The fire in his heart busted like a bubble. His wrath took over his magic – and in the food went, quicker, faster, more and more food… Tristan tried to tell Evan to slow down, but he had no time, for the softened meat, the sweet bread, and the mush that was now the food just kept crushing and pushing itself through his teeth, by his lips, down his throat…

“Sorcerer, stop at once!”

King Ralston had shouted the order and Evan snapped out of his trance. For one moment he had to recall where he was, who he was and what he was doing. He saw the twisted face of the prince, red, his mouth dripping with food, spitting all of it out in a cough.

“You nearly killed me you incompetent… cough!” Tristan cried. “I couldn’t eat all of that at once! I was choking you dumb inbred incompetent idiot!”

“I’m… I’m deeply sorry, my prince. It wasn’t my intention. I… I lost control!”

“I saw that! We shouldn’t have asked for an oaf apprentice! We should have asked for a real magician! You’re not good at high magic, just good at petty entertaining tricks! Be gone, you’re making me lose my appetite!”

Evan swore it would be Tristan’s last insult.

Tristan was a pig – no, even pigs could be kind. Tristan was a big monster. A fat, cruel slob, unfit to rule a kingdom. A would-be tyrant. A spoiled, overgrown, cruel brat. A brat that needed to be taught a lesson. 

XXX

Master Rummuel had always told Evan that magic practitioners had the role of teachers towards mundane humans.

“To know, control and wield magic we have to know more about ourselves and other people than anyone will ever know. It opens our eyes and doors to other worlds, other gods, other perspectives. We learn so much… and through this knowledge we know how to act. We can be good, evil, both, of course we aren’t above moral. But we are aware of our own morals, and thus we can enlighten others. We can make them see how they are good, how they are bad. And reward them or punish them according.”

Now Evan understood what Master Rummuel meant. As he was looking through the old tome he brought with him, he understood.

For anyone not initiated to the high arts, this book was merely a collection of childish tales and nursery rhymes, with simple, crude illustrations. But it was much more. It was ancient. It was account of the deeds of old witches and fairies. It was filled with traditional spells, and folkloric rituals, and countryside common magic. And it was a testimony of wonders beyond human imagination.

Evan finally found the story he was looking for.

The tale of “The Boy Who Couldn’t Stop Eating His Soup”. Right next to it were illustrations. A sequence of illustrations, showing what happened to the boy, step by step until… he learned his lesson.

Evan closed the book with a smile on his face. It was the first time he smiled since he stepped into this damn castle.

It was time to play fairy tricks. 

XXX

“I wanted to apologize to you, my lord, for the incompetence I demonstrated during… the incident, at the last feast. I presumed too much of my own powers and put you in a great danger – something I will not forgive myself for. If you want to banish me, I would perfectly understand, but allow me first to offer you a gift of apology. A cake I baked myself. I am a poor baker, unfortunately, but I put my hands in the dough for I knew one of your favorite treats was the chocolate fudge cake. I hope you will like it.”

Tristan, sitting on his bed, a plate of dried meat resting on his fat belly, looked at the cake with bright eyes.

“It looks good… Indeed… But take a bite first. We haven’t found any taster replacement yet, and you know how it is, with poison and other things. Here, let me decide which bite you’ll have.”

Tristan took the fork by the side of the cake, took randomly a small part of the cake and handed it to Evan.

“Here, eat this.”

Evan obeyed, with a smile on his face. As soon as he gulped the cake down, the prince took the wizard’s face in his warm, plump hands.

“My prince? What are you doing?”

Tristan turned Evan’s face one way, another, before letting it go and sighing:

“You’re too bony. I can’t have such a skinny man near me, it feels like a personal insult and it ruins my whole outfit. It is dreadfully out of fashion. If you really want to be apologized, put on some pounds. At least get rid of those sunken cheeks.”

“I will, your majesty.”

“No, I don’t think you’ll do. You said it yourself, you are incompetent. I’ll have my personal meal planners put on your back and don’t try to run away from it. You’ll put on some pound or you’ll get kicked out.”

Tristan took the cake and started eating it.

“Oh, it would certainly sadden me to leave your court so soon.”

But Tristan wasn’t listening anymore. When the prince was eating, he only had eyes for his plates and ears for his cook, and all the rest could very well go to hell.

“It’s not very good, but it’s not bad at all. At least it’s decent. I can eat it. That’s already that.” The Prince said between gulps and munchings, as he was eating quickly and ferociously the dessert.

Evan waited until finally, Tristan took one of the mint leaves on top of the cake and ate it.

For the spell wasn’t in the cake. It was in the mint.

Evan clenched his first, looked deeply at the blubbery mass of the glutton, and muttered an innocent-looking little rhyme.

“Creosote and knuckles,

Frog for the ox,

Be the Wawel of Vistula.

Jester of the storm, make balloons of his gore.

The five winds be put in your bag.

You ate the house, be big as one.

If not for the gallows, be the waxing moon.

In the name of the cursed Halfling king.

Teach the moral, learn the lesson.

Become Sunday, and hatch my boy.”

Tristan stopped eating as his stomach emitted a loud growl. The Prince, briefly distraught, put a hand on his belly, and hearing no more, finished the cake, even licking the plate.

“Yeah. It wasn’t such a good… Burp. Such a good cake. Not a… It made me quite peckish, however. Servant! Bring me salted meat! I crave for some salty meat! With a lot of salt! And maybe… two, no, three apples!”

Evan smiled, bowed to his Prince and left.

Now, it was just a question of time.