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mika-mp3 · 1 year ago

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The treasure is all mine

-chapter three-

(Prologe, chapter one, chapter two, chapter four)

Genshin Impact x Creator!reader

warnings: no y/n used, slight yandere behavior, possible spelling errors, rain lol

summary: Tighnari leads you to his home; Gandharva Village, where you meet Collei. However.. they are starting to take note of the strange things happening around you and suspect there is more to who you are then what meets the eye....

characters: you, Tighnari, Collei

word count: 2159

wattpad story here

https://pin.it/1dI84VVUB

As the fire crackles and the rain continues to fall outside, you close your eyes, allowing yourself to drift into a restful sleep, your heart filled with hope and determination. The journey to uncover your past and discover your true identity has only just begun, and you are ready to embrace it, one step at a time.

The journey through the forest was both arduous and enlightening. Days melded into one another as Tighnari led you through the vast, dense woodland. The sun filtered through the towering trees, casting dappled patterns on the forest floor, while the sounds of chirping birds and rustling leaves provided a serene backdrop. Along the way, Tighnari shared his knowledge of the flora and fauna, teaching you about the medicinal properties of various plants and the habits of the forest's creatures.

One morning, as the first rays of sunlight pierced through the leafs above, Tighnari turned to you, his eyes filled with a mix of anticipation and relief. "We're nearing Gandharva Village. It's a place of respite and learning for the Forest Rangers, often referred to as 'The City Above the Forest.' It's an important outpost, frequented by travelers, merchants, and adventurers."

Your heart quickened at the prospect of finally reaching a place of relative civilization. The forest had been beautiful, but the constant uncertainty of your situation had left you yearning for some stability.

"City Above the Forest?" you echoed, curiosity piqued.

Tighnari nodded. "Yes. Gandharva Village is built on a series of platforms and walkways suspended above the forest floor. It's designed to blend harmoniously with the natural environment, minimizing our footprint and maintaining the delicate balance of the ecosystem."

As you walked, the forest began to change subtly. The trees grew even taller, their trunks thicker and more ancient. The air felt different, fresher somehow, as if you were ascending into a different realm. You passed by shimmering waterfalls and crossed crystal-clear streams, each sight more breathtaking than the last.

Tighnari paused occasionally to point out interesting plants or animal tracks, his passion for the natural world evident in every word. "This is a varuna tree," he explained at one point, gesturing to an enormous tree with roots that seemed to span across the forest. "Its sap is highly prized for its healing properties. The rangers often collect it for medical use."

You nodded, absorbing the information. "It's incredible how everything in the forest seems to have a purpose."

"Indeed," Tighnari agreed. "Nature is a masterful teacher, if only we take the time to listen."

As the sun climbed higher, you finally caught sight of Gandharva Village. True to Tighnari's description, it was a marvel of engineering and nature. Wooden platforms connected by rope bridges and ladders formed a network high above the ground, blending seamlessly with the surrounding trees. Lush greenery draped over the structures, and colorful flowers added vibrant splashes of color.

"Welcome to Gandharva Village," Tighnari said with a smile. "Let's head to my house. I want to conduct a thorough medical checkup to ensure you're alright."

You followed him across the swaying bridges, marveling at the ingenuity of the village's design. The air was filled with the scents of blooming flowers and the earthy aroma of the forest. Villagers greeted Tighnari warmly as you passed, their smiles reflecting the close-knit community spirit.

Arriving at Tighnari's house, you found it to be a cozy, well-kept dwelling, filled with books, herbs, and various scientific instruments. He gestured for you to sit on a comfortable chair by a large window that offered a stunning view of the forest canopy.

"Let's see," Tighnari began, retrieving a medical kit. "I'll check your vitals first."

You nodded, feeling a mix of gratitude and nervousness. As he worked, his touch was gentle but precise, his eyes focused and attentive. The sense of care he exuded was reassuring.

As he examined you, Tighnari continued to share more about the village. "Gandharva Village serves as the main hub for the Forest Rangers. We monitor the forest, ensuring its health and safety. It's also a place where travelers can rest and resupply. The community here is diverse, with people from all walks of life coming together to protect and learn from the forest."

You listened intently, feeling a growing sense of connection to this place. "It sounds like a wonderful community. I can see why you love it here."

Tighnari smiled warmly. "It is. The forest is our lifeblood, and we do our best to live in harmony with it. Speaking of which, your readings are normal, but you need to stay warm and dry to avoid falling ill."

Before you could respond, the door to the house burst open, and a young girl with green hair and a sturdy looking bow rushed in. "Master Tighnari! You're back!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide with relief. "I was so worried..."

Tighnari looked up, a mixture of surprise and warmth in his eyes. He fixes his clothing and walked over to her "Collei, it's good to see you. I didn't mean to worry you. We had an unexpected journey."

Collei's gaze shifted to you, her curiosity evident. "Who's this? Are you alright?"

You offered a small smile. "I'm fine, thank you. Tighnari has been taking good care of me."

Tighnari placed a reassuring hand on Collei's shoulder. "This is our guest. They've had a rough time but are safe now. Collei, can you help prepare some hot tea? It'll help them warm up."

Collei nodded eagerly. "Of course, Master." She hurried to the kitchen area, her movements quick and efficient.

As you sat there, enveloped in the warmth of the blanket and the kindness of your new companions, a sense of belonging began to take root. The journey ahead was still uncertain, but for the first time since you woke up in the forest, you felt a glimmer of hope.

Tighnari's house, with its mix of natural elements and scientific tools, seemed to reflect his dual nature as both a guardian of the forest and a seeker of knowledge. The walls were adorned with botanical drawings, and shelves were lined with jars of herbs and curious specimens.

"Tighnari," you began, feeling a need to understand more, "It must be incredible to live in a world where such beings as gods and elements exist."

"It is," Tighnari agreed. "But it's also a responsibility. Those who receive visions often feel a duty to use their powers for the greater good."

Before you could ask more, Collei returned with a steaming pot of tea and cups. She poured the tea with practiced ease, and the fragrant steam filled the room, adding to the cozy atmosphere.

"Here you go," she said, handing you a cup. "This should help warm you up."

You took the cup gratefully, feeling the warmth spread through your hands. "Thank you, Collei."

As you sipped the tea, its soothing warmth spreading through you, you realized that despite the mysteries surrounding your past, you had found a place where you could begin to seek answers. Gandharva Village, with its unique blend of nature and community, felt like a stepping stone on your journey of self-discovery.

Tighnari leaned back, his gaze thoughtful. "Rest for now. We can talk more in the morning. There’s much for you to learn about Teyvat, and perhaps we can uncover more about your past as we go."

You nodded, feeling a sense of gratitude and anticipation. "Thank you, Tighnari. And you too, Collei. I don't know what lies ahead, but I'm glad to have met you both."

With that, you settled into the warmth of the blanket, the fire crackling softly nearby, and the gentle murmur of the forest outside. The rain continued to fall, but within Tighnari's home, you felt safe and hopeful. The journey to uncover your true identity had begun in earnest, and with the support of your new friends, you felt ready to face whatever lay ahead.

As you drift into a deep, much-needed sleep, Tighnari and Collei moved to a corner of the room, their voices hushed but urgent. Tighnari’s sharp ears twitched slightly, always alert even in the safety of his home. He glanced over at the sleeping figure, then turned his attention back to Collei.

"Master, what happened out there? Who is this person?" Collei asked, her green eyes wide with curiosity and concern.

Tighnari sighed, running a hand through his dark green hair, his fennec ears flicking with agitation. "It's a long story, Collei. I found them wandering in the forest, disoriented and with no memory of who they are or how they got there. But there's more to it than just amnesia."

Collei tilted her head, her fox-like ears twitching in interest. "More? Like what?"

Tighnari leaned in closer, his voice lowering to a whisper. "The forest itself seemed to react to them. Flowers bloomed in their presence, and the trees seemed to bend to offer protection. It's as if the forest was… welcoming them."

Collei's eyes widened even further. "Welcoming them? But that's… I've never heard of such a thing happening."

"Neither have I," Tighnari admitted. "But that's not all. They don't smell like a normal human. In fact, they don't have any scent at all, which is highly unusual. Every living being has a scent, but they don't. It's like they exist outside the natural order of things."

Collei frowned, trying to process the information. "Do you think they could be… a god? Or some other non-human creature?"

Tighnari sighed again, his expression thoughtful. "It's possible. Their presence feels different, almost otherworldly. There's a calmness and a sense of belonging that I can't quite explain. It's like they are part of the forest in a way that goes beyond mere human understanding."

Collei hesitated, then spoke up. "I remember an old tale I heard as a child, a legend about the Creator. It was said that the Creator would one day return to Teyvat, bringing harmony and balance to the world. Could it be possible that…"

Tighnari's eyes widened slightly. "The Creator? It's a tale I've heard too, but always dismissed as myth. Yet, the signs… they can't be ignored."

Collei nodded slowly, her mind racing. "If they truly are the Creator, or even something close to that, it could explain why the forest reacted the way it did. The forest, the plants, even the animals – they all recognized them."

Tighnari looked back at the sleeping figure, his expression softening. "If that's true, then their presence here could have far-reaching implications. We need to keep them safe and help them recover their memories. Only then can we understand their true purpose and what it means for Teyvat."

Collei agreed, her determination matching Tighnari's. "We'll do everything we can to protect them and help them find out who they are. This could be the start of something incredible."

Tighnari smiled, careful not to touch her, knowing how much she disliked physical contact. "Thank you, Collei. Your support means a lot. For now, let's focus on keeping them safe and comfortable. We'll figure out the rest as we go."

They both turned their attention back to the sleeping figure, their minds filled with questions and possibilities. The journey ahead was uncertain, but with the bond they shared and the resolve they held, they felt ready to face whatever challenges lay in wait.

Tighnari then spoke again, a new idea forming in his mind. "Collei, there is someone who might be able to help us. The Dendro Archon, the God of Wisdom. She has knowledge beyond our understanding. If anyone can provide answers, it's her."

Collei's eyes lit up with hope. "The Dendro Archon? Yes, she would surely know what to do. We should take them to her."

Tighnari nodded. "It's settled then. Tomorrow, we'll prepare for the journey to meet the Dendro Archon. Let's hope she can shed some light on this mystery."

---

The sun rose gently over Gandharva Village, casting a warm glow over the intricate network of platforms and bridges. The village was already bustling with activity as Forest Rangers went about their duties, preparing for another day of safeguarding the forest.

Inside Tighnari's home the air was filled with the scent of fresh herbs and flowers. You stirred from your sleep, blinking slowly as you adjusted to the morning light streaming through the windows.

Tighnari and Collei were already up, speaking quietly near the door. They turned as the reader awoke, their expressions softening with concern.

"Good morning," Tighnari greeted with a warm smile. "How are you feeling?"

"A bit better," you reply, still feeling the lingering warmth of the blankets. "Thank you for everything."

"You're welcome," Collei said, her voice gentle. "We're here to help you."

As they prepared for the day, you couldn't shake the feeling of being part of something much larger. The forest, the village, and the people around them all seemed to resonate with a sense of purpose and connection.

Tighnari's words from the previous night echoed in your mind. The journey to uncover your true identity was just beginning, and with the support of your new friends, they felt ready to face whatever lay ahead. The path forward was uncertain, but it was also filled with hope and the promise of discovery.

https://www.pinterest.de/pin/126311964540912532/

Thank you so much for reading! Fell free to give me feedback and ideas how to continue this!

P.S. I fixed the pov in the end!!

Mika

Taglist:

- @wutap - @saternsky - @vianitry - @fantasyhopperhea

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #genshin x creator reader #sagau x reader #tighnari x reader #aranara #collei x reader

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victusinveritas · 2 years ago

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"A mindblowing 1900 year old Roman hologram effect ring.

The bust is a gold microfusion made upon a wax model, using the cera persa (lost wax) technique covered by a quartz crystal rendering the hologram effect. It shows the sophisticated craftsmanship of ancient jewellers. And also the function of jewellery as a precious keepsake.

The young man depicted in the ring is

Carvilius Gemmulus, who died at 18. His femur was fractured in 2 places, also a high percentage of arsenic was found in his hair. The ring was found in the nearby grave of his mother Aebutia Quarta who died some years later.

The luminous effect of the crystal lense gives a mysterious effect to the image of the beloved son. His mother had the ring made to keep his memory alive.

Both well-kept mummies at the Grottaferrata necropolis near Rome, were elaborately covered with garlands of flowers. He was wrapped in a shroud and completely covered with flowers. Large garlands in good condition covered the upper half of his body, one was placed around his head.

She wore a vegetal mantle made up of hundreds of garlands. On her head was placed a well-preserved wig wrapped in a net woven with fine gold thread ending in a braid.

The ring is on display at the Museo Archeologica Nazionale di Palestrina.

From: the Archeology News Network and other sources. (So if there are spelling or historical errors, they aren't mine.)

#archaeology #roman archaeology #grave goods #jewelry #memento mori #antiquity #necropolis

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ironladle · 1 year ago

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Tarot Card Legacy Challenge

Generation 1: The Fool

Pack Focus: High School Years, For Rent

Goals:

Active, Outgoing, Adventurous

Master the Fitness skill to Level 10 by participating in school sports

Complete the "Outdoor Enthusiast" or “Body Builder” aspiration, going on outdoor adventures with friends and exploring hidden spots in the neighborhood.

Collect all types of fish and insects in the neighborhood as a beginner angler and bug collector.

Achieve 10 charisma skill by making friends and socializing at school events and parties.

Gather collectibles like feathers and crystals by exploring secret areas around the neighborhood and completing after-school activities.

Romance: The Fool finds romance during high school, developing a crush on their lab partner or a fellow athlete. They navigate their first love through shy glances, secret notes, and stolen moments in between classes.

Generation 2: The Empress

Pack Focus: Dream Home Decorator, Growing Together

Goals:

Green Fiend, Family-oriented, Nature Lover

Master the Gardening skill to Level 10 by tending to the school garden and helping out,and personal garden

Complete the "Freelance Botanist" or “Super Parent” aspiration, selling home-grown produce and flowers

Achieve Level 10 in the Parenting skill by babysitting younger siblings or volunteering

Collect all types of flowers and produce to create beautiful floral arrangements and healthy meals for the family.

Participate in neighborhood gardening competitions, showcasing the family's garden and winning prizes for their beautiful blooms.

Romance: The Empress meets their significant other at a community gardening event or through mutual friends. Their romance blossoms over shared interests in nature and sustainability, with romantic picnics in the park and stargazing under the moonlight.

Generation 3: The Emperor

Pack Focus: For Rent, Home Chef Hustle Stuff

Goals:

Handy, Ambitious,Outdoorsy

Master the Handiness skill to Level 10 by fixing up the family's rented home and helping neighbors with household repairs.

Complete the "Outdoor Enthusiast" or” Master Chef” aspiration, going on camping trips with friends and mastering the art of outdoor cooking.

Achieve Level 10 in the Logic skill

Collect all types of fossils and crystals during outdoor adventures and neighborhood exploration.

Establish a successful food business, selling handcrafted meals made with locally sourced ingredients.

Romance: The Emperor finds love at a neighborhood block party or while volunteering at the local soup kitchen. Their relationship flourishes over shared meals and cozy nights in, with romantic dinners cooked together in their food truck.

Generation 4: The High Priestess

Pack Focus: Crystal Creations Stuff, Realm of Magic

Goals:

Bookworm, Paranoid, Creative

Master the Spellcasting skill and unlock all spells by studying ancient tomes and practicing magic rituals.

Complete the "Spellcraft & Sorcery" or “ Archaeology Scholar” aspiration, delving deeper into the mysteries of magic and mastering potion-making.

Achieve Level 10 in the Logic skill by experimenting with magical elements and researching arcane phenomena.

Collect all magical artifacts and tomes by exploring hidden caves and participating in magical duels.

Explore all hidden areas in Glimmerbrook and Forgotten Hollow to uncover ancient secrets and mystical creatures.

Romance: The High Priestess meets their soulmate at a magical gathering or during a séance. Their bond deepens through shared experiences in the magical realm, with romantic moonlit rituals and enchanted picnics in enchanted forests.

Generation 5: The Lovers

Pack Focus: My Wedding Stories, Get Together

Goals:

Romantic, Outgoing, Charismatic

Master the Acting skill to Level 10 by participating in school theater productions and joining drama clubs.

Complete the "World-Famous Celebrity" or “ Soulmate” aspiration, climbing the ranks of fame and hosting extravagant parties.

Achieve Level 10 in the Charisma skill by networking at social events and building a large circle of friends.

Collect all celebrity memorabilia and awards by attending exclusive parties

Host extravagant parties and events in luxury penthouses, showcasing the glamorous lifestyle of the rich and famous.

Romance: The Lovers meet at a high-profile gala or VIP event, instantly drawn to each other's charisma and charm. Their love story unfolds amidst the glittering lights of the city, with romantic rooftop dinners and spontaneous adventures in the nightlife scene.

Generation 6: The Chariot

Pack Focus: Horse Ranch, Werewolves

Animal Lover, Adventurous, Independent

Goals:

Master the Robotics skill and build advanced robots to assist with farm chores and household tasks.

Complete the "Renaissance Sim" or “Championship Rider” aspiration, excelling in multiple fields of study and expertise, including horse riding and animal training.

Achieve Level 10 in the Handiness skill by repairing farm equipment and maintaining the family's homestead.

Collect all elements and crystals to craft potent potions and futuristic inventions for the family ranch.

Travel to all vacation worlds and explore cultural landmarks and local traditions, incorporating new techniques into the family's farming practices.

Romance: The Chariot finds love in the countryside, meeting their partner at a local rodeo or equestrian event. Their romance flourishes over horseback rides through scenic trails and cozy nights by the fireplace.

Generation 7: Strength

Pack Focus: Cats & Dogs, Seasons

Animal Lover, Family-oriented, Athletic

Goals:

Master the Veterinary skill to Level 10 by opening a veterinary clinic and caring for pets and wildlife in the community.

Complete the "Animal Enthusiast" or “Friend of the Animals” aspiration, fostering strong bonds with animals and participating in pet competitions.

Achieve Level 10 in the Wellness skill by practicing yoga and promoting physical and emotional well-being for Sims and animals alike.

Collect all types of feathers and notes in a bottle, to create unique crafts and decorations for the family's pet-friendly home.

Participate in seasonal festivals and competitions

Romance: Strength meets their partner at a local animal shelter or while walking their pets in the park. Their love grows through shared adventures with their furry companions, with romantic picnics and sunset walks along the beach.

Generation 8: The Hermit

Pack Focus: For Rent, StrangerVille

Paranoid, Bookworm, Loner

Goals:

Master the Herbalism skill to Level 10 by foraging for rare plants and brewing potent potions to unravel the mysteries of StrangerVille.

Complete the "Paranormal Investigator" or “Strangerville Mystery” aspiration, investigating strange occurrences and uncovering hidden truths in the mysterious town.

Achieve Level 10 in the Logic skill by analyzing evidence and conducting experiments to solve the town's supernatural mysteries.

Collect all types of artifacts and relics by exploring secret labs and hidden caves, documenting strange occurrences and encounters.

Investigate secret conspiracies and alien encounters, uncovering the truth behind the town's strange phenomena.

Romance: The Hermit finds love amidst the mysteries of StrangerVille, meeting their partner while investigating paranormal activity or sharing theories at the local diner. Their romance deepens as they work together to uncover the town's secrets, with late-night stakeouts and passionate debates over conspiracy theories.

Generation 9: The Wheel of Fortune

Pack Focus: My Wedding Stories, For Rent

Party Animal, Outgoing, Ambitious

Goals:

Master the DJ Mixing skill and become a renowned DJ by hosting epic parties and events in the community.

Complete the "Party Animal" or “Fabulously Wealthy” aspiration, mastering the art of socializing and bringing people together through music and entertainment.

Achieve Level 10 in the Cooking skill by experimenting with new recipes and hosting seasonal feasts and gatherings.

Collect all types of rare and exotic fruits and vegetables to create signature dishes and cocktails for their events.

Participate in seasonal festivals and competitions, winning prizes and earning recognition for their contributions to community spirit and celebration.

Romance: The Wheel of Fortune finds love on the dance floor, meeting their partner at a lively nightclub or music festival. Their romance ignites through shared passion for music and nightlife, with spontaneous dance-offs and intimate moments under the stars.

Generation 10: The Star

Pack Focus: Get Famous, Dream Home Decorator

Goals:

Charismatic,Ambitious, High- Maintenance

Rise to stardom as a celebrity in the entertainment industry, pursuing careers in acting, music, or comedy, and gaining fame and recognition.

Develop culinary skills to create stunning dishes and desserts, showcasing talents through cooking shows or hosting celebrity dinner parties.

Utilize interior design expertise to decorate lavish homes and venues for celebrity clients, earning acclaim for their exquisite taste.

Master the photography skill to capture glamorous moments on red carpets, at exclusive events, and during intimate gatherings.

Utilize gaming expertise to engage with fans through live streams and gaming events, building a dedicated online following fascinated by their celebrity lifestyle.

Romance: The Star finds love amidst the glitz and glamour of celebrity life, meeting their partner at industry events, through mutual connections, or even on the set of a blockbuster film. Their romance plays out in the public eye, with paparazzi capturing their every move and fans speculating about their relationship. Despite the challenges of fame, their love remains strong, and they ultimately tie the knot in a star-studded ceremony, attended by fellow celebrities and broadcasted to millions of viewers worldwide.

Complete World-Famous Celebrity or Master Actor/Master Actress aspiration

-Slay, I will be fixing this challenge little by little.

#TS4TarotLegacy

#ts4 challenge #sims 4 legacy #ts4 legacy #the sims 4 #the sims legacy #sims legacy challenge #simblr #ts4 gameplay #ts4cc #sims 4 gameplay #sims 4 challenge #sims legacy #TS4TarotLegacy

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paper-mario-wiki · 1 year ago

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a crystal ball connected to a massive magical ether made of information, allowing wizards to communicate via spells. by sending a spell into the ether cloud, it can he found and displayed by another's crystal ball. but the network is vast, so to find a spell you'd actually like to see is like searching for a specifc grain of sand on a beach. networks of spell crafters form sustained means of communication and eventually networks, and notify others of their own spells as they're shared, and your crystal ball displays it.

that's tumblr.

🔮

#text #random thought #good night

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witchyintention · 5 months ago

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Witchcraft in the Digital Age

The 21st century didn’t just bring us smartphones, social media, and memes—it also ushered witchcraft into the technological spotlight. With the power of Wi-Fi and a little keyboard magic, witches from all over the world can connect, learn, and cast spells in ways that our broomstick-riding ancestors couldn’t have dreamed of. Let’s explore how the digital age has revolutionized witchcraft, from online covens to the rise of TikTok witches, and everything in between.

From Grimoires to Google Docs: Sharing Knowledge in the Digital Realm

In the pre-internet days, learning witchcraft often required finding a mentor, stumbling upon the right dusty book in the back of a shop, or deciphering cryptic information passed down orally. Now, a quick Google search can teach you how to cleanse your crystals, create moon water, or banish negative energy—all without leaving your couch.

The internet has democratized access to witchcraft, tearing down barriers that once kept this knowledge elusive. Blogs, YouTube channels, and digital libraries offer endless resources on every kind of practice imaginable. Whether you’re into Wicca, Hoodoo, traditional witchcraft, or chaos magic, there’s a treasure trove of information waiting to be explored. This accessibility has also helped reclaim and preserve marginalized magical traditions, giving practitioners a platform to share their practices and connect with others.

Hashtag Hexes: Social Media and the Rise of the Digital Witch

Social media platforms like Instagram, TikTok, and Pinterest have given witchcraft a visually stunning makeover. Witchy influencers share photos of perfectly curated altars, short how-to videos, and aesthetic spell tutorials that look as good as they (hopefully) work. But it’s TikTok, affectionately nicknamed “WitchTok,” that has truly taken the digital cauldron by storm.

On WitchTok, creators share everything from beginner tips to elaborate rituals, often condensed into bite-sized videos with trending audio tracks. Want to learn about planetary correspondences or the best herbs for protection spells? There’s a TikTok for that. Need a quick guide to reading tarot? Someone’s already made a video with helpful graphics and snarky commentary.

While WitchTok has made witchcraft more accessible and engaging for younger generations, it’s not without its quirks (or curses, depending on who you ask). Viral trends like the infamous “hexing the moon” incident highlight the occasional clash between traditional practitioners and younger, less experienced witches. However, these moments also spark important discussions about respect, responsibility, and the need for deeper knowledge.

Digital Covens: Finding Your Community Online

Gone are the days when witches had to rely solely on local communities or secret gatherings to find their covens. Today, online forums, Discord servers, and Facebook groups have become virtual meeting spaces for witches of all paths. These digital covens offer a space to share spells, ask questions, and support one another, all while sipping tea in your pajamas.

The inclusivity of online spaces has been a game-changer for those who might not have access to in-person communities. Witches in conservative areas, individuals with disabilities, and those who prefer solitary practice can still feel connected to a broader magical network. Platforms like Reddit’s r/witchcraft or specialized apps like Amino provide spaces for open dialogue, mentorship, and collaboration.

Of course, online communities have their challenges. Differing opinions, misinformation, and the occasional “gatekeeper” can make these spaces tricky to navigate. But for many witches, the benefits far outweigh the drawbacks.

The Curse of Misinformation

While the internet has made witchcraft more accessible, it’s also created a breeding ground for misinformation. Not every TikTok spell or Pinterest graphic is accurate—or safe. Some “quick fixes” can lead to unintended consequences (like burning cinnamon on charcoal and nearly setting off the fire alarm) or appropriating practices without understanding their cultural significance.

It’s become increasingly important for modern witches to verify their sources, cross-reference information, and approach their craft with respect and curiosity. The digital age might make learning easier, but it also requires a critical eye to separate authentic wisdom from clickbait magic.

The E-Commerce Boom: Spell Kits, Crystals, and Online Witch Shops

The rise of e-commerce has transformed how witches gather their tools. Need ethically sourced sage, a crescent moon-shaped candle, or a deck of oracle cards? Etsy, Amazon, and countless independent online shops have got you covered. You can even have spell kits delivered to your doorstep, complete with instructions and pre-measured ingredients.

While this convenience is undeniably appealing, it’s also sparked debates within the community. Concerns about over-harvesting herbs like white sage, the exploitation of crystal miners, and the commercialization of spiritual practices have led many witches to seek sustainable and ethical alternatives. Supporting small businesses and researching sourcing practices are key ways to ensure your magic aligns with your values.

The Rise of Witchcraft Apps and Digital Tools

In the digital age, there’s an app for everything—including witchcraft. Astrology apps like Co-Star and The Pattern provide daily horoscopes and personalized birth chart insights, while moon phase trackers help witches plan their rituals around lunar cycles. Tarot apps, spell planners, and even virtual altars make it easier than ever to integrate magic into everyday life.

These tools are especially useful for witches on the go or those looking to organize their practice in a more structured way. However, as with all technology, it’s important to balance convenience with mindfulness. After all, no app can replace the personal connection and intuition that lie at the heart of witchcraft.

Social Justice and Activism in the Digital Age

The internet has also amplified witchcraft’s role in social justice and activism. Modern witches often use their platforms to advocate for causes like climate change, racial justice, and LGBTQ+ rights, blending their magical practices with activism. Hexing political figures, creating protection spells for protestors, and fundraising for marginalized communities are just a few examples of how digital witches are making their voices heard.

This intersection of magic and activism has strengthened witchcraft’s position as a tool for empowerment and resistance. The digital age has given witches the power not just to connect with each other, but to amplify their collective voices and effect real-world change.

The Future of Witchcraft in the Digital Era

As technology continues to evolve, so too will witchcraft. Virtual reality rituals, AI-powered tarot readings, and blockchain-based spell trading might sound like something out of a sci-fi novel, but they’re closer than you think. The digital age has opened up endless possibilities for innovation, creativity, and connection in the magical community.

But even as witchcraft embraces the future, its essence remains timeless. At its core, magic is about intention, connection, and transformation—whether you’re casting a spell by candlelight or clicking “like” on a WitchTok video.

Witchcraft in the digital age is a vibrant, dynamic blend of ancient tradition and modern innovation. It’s a world where hashtags meet history, and technology bridges the gap between solitary practitioners and global communities. While the digital realm presents its share of challenges, it’s ultimately given witches a platform to thrive, connect, and reimagine what it means to practice magic in the 21st century.

#witchblr #witches #witchcraft 101 #witchcraft blog #witchcraft info #healing energy #learning magick #witch community #witchcraft #witchythings

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mystic-rubysunflower · 1 month ago

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SOLAR TRANSITION INTO ♊️ SEASON

when the sun dances into the realm of the twins* 💫👬

•CORRESPONDENCES•

*the mutable air sign of duality and quick wit*

🌬️ **Element:** Air - the breath of curiosity and communication

🔄 **Modality:** Mutable - adaptable, flexible, ever-changing

📅 **Season:** Late Spring (May 21 - June 20)

🌟 **Symbol:** The Twins ♊ - representing duality, versatility, and multiple perspectives

🎭 **Keywords:** Communication, curiosity, wit, adaptability, learning, connection

🔮 Magical Correspondences:

✨ **Colors:** Yellow, silver, light blue, mercury chrome

🌿 **Herbs:** Lavender, mint, parsley, fennel, dill, lemon verbena

💎 **Crystals:** Citrine, clear quartz, agate, amazonite, fluorite

🌸 **Flowers:** Lily of the valley, sweet pea, jasmine

🕯️ **Incense:** Sandalwood, frankincense, eucalyptus

🍃 **Essential Oils:** Peppermint, lemon, bergamot, rosemary

🐦 **Animals:** Birds (especially songbirds), butterflies, parrots

🔢 **Numbers:** 3, 5

📖 **Tarot:** The Lovers (VI)

🏠 THIRD HOUSE CORRESPONDENCES 🏠

*the house of communication and local community*

🗣️ **Domain:** Communication, short journeys, siblings, early education, local environment

💭 **Themes:** Learning, writing, speaking, networking, curiosity, mental agility

🚗 **Associations:** Local travel, neighbors, daily conversations, social media

🔮 Magical Correspondences:

📚 **Focus Areas:** Study magic, communication spells, travel protection

✍️ **Workings:** Writing rituals, blessing new projects, sibling harmony

🌐 **Energy:** Quick-moving, intellectual, social, restless

📱 **Modern Rulership:** Social media, texting, blogging, podcasting

🎒 **Travel Magic:** Short trip blessings, commute protection, safe passage

🗣️ **Communication Magic:** Public speaking confidence, writing inspiration, clear expression

👥 **Community Work:** Neighbor relations, local activism, networking

☿ MERCURY CORRESPONDENCES ☿

*the swift messenger of the gods*

⚡ **Planetary Energy:** Quick, intellectual, communicative, mercurial

📊 **Rulership:** Gemini & Virgo

🌙 **Day:** Wednesday

⏰ **Hours:** 1st and 8th hours after sunrise

🔮 Magical Correspondences:

🎨 **Colors:** Orange, light blue, yellow, multicolored

🌱 **Plants:** Mercury-ruled herbs - mint, parsley, caraway, dill

💎 **Stones:** Agate, aventurine, citrine, opal, quicksilver

🔥 **Metals:** Mercury (quicksilver), brass, mixed metals

🎵 **Musical Note:** E

📿 **Symbols:** Caduceus, winged sandals, the Mercury glyph ☿

✨ Mercury Magic:

🧠 **Mental Clarity:** Enhance focus, memory, learning ability

💬 **Communication:** Improve eloquence, writing skills, teaching

🛣️ **Travel:** Safe journeys, travel planning, navigation

💰 **Business:** Negotiations, contracts, commerce, trading

🔍 **Divination:** Enhance psychic communication, spirit contact

📖 **Study:** Academic success, exam preparation, research

🌟 GEMINI SEASON RITUAL SUGGESTIONS 🌟

💫 Mercury Air Ritual

*Light yellow candles while burning mint incense*

*Call upon Mercury for swift communication and clear thought*

*Write intentions on yellow paper and release to the wind*

🌬️ Twin Flame Meditation

*Sit facing a mirror during sunrise*

*Contemplate your dual nature - light and shadow*

*Ask the Twins to help you integrate all aspects of self*

📚 Knowledge Gathering Spell

*Create a study altar with citrine and mint*

*Charge your books, laptops, and writing tools*

*Ask Gemini to bless your learning journey*

🦋 Social Connection Working

*Use blue candles and lavender*

*Focus on strengthening friendships and community bonds*

*Send messages of love to those you haven't spoken to in a while*

⭐ GEMINI SEASON AFFIRMATIONS ⭐

🗣️ *"I communicate with clarity and confidence"*

🧠 *"My mind is quick, sharp, and receptive to new knowledge"*

🌪️ *"I adapt gracefully to life's constant changes"*

👥 *"I connect authentically with others through honest expression"*

✨ *"I embrace all aspects of my multifaceted nature"*

📖 *"Every conversation teaches me something new"*

🦋 *"I am curious, clever, and endlessly creative"*

🌙 WORKING WITH THIS ENERGY 🌙

**Best Times:**

🌅 Dawn (ruled by Mercury)

📅 Wednesdays

🌬️ When the wind is blowing

📱 During Mercury hour

**Magical Focus:**

✨ Communication enhancement

📚 Learning and education

🤝 Building connections

✍️ Writing and creativity

🛣️ Safe travels

🧠 Mental clarity

*Remember, witches: Gemini season is about embracing change, staying curious, and connecting with the world around you. Let your mind dance with the Twins! 💫*

🔮 *"As above, so below - as Mercury flies, so our thoughts soar"* 🔮

#astrology #astro posts #astro placements #astroblr #tarot and astrology #astro witch #astro notes #astro community #gemini placements #gemini season #gemini sun #gemini moon #gemini rising #gemini jupiter

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darcydarlingdabbles · 7 months ago

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🎙️✨ Until the Devil’s Last Dance ✨🎙️ Part 2

🍒 On Ao3☕Read on Ream☕On Tumblr 🍒

That Old Black Magic by Glen Miller

🎙️ “Oh, I do love a good bit of drama, don’t you? There’s a spell that lingers in the air, my friends. Something intoxicating, a force that binds you, twists you, and refuses to let go. That old black magic is creeping in, and once it has you in its grasp, well, let’s just say... you’ll never be quite the same again.”🎙️

🎶That old black magic has me in its spell

that old black magic that you weave so well🎵

Alastor's fingers tightened imperceptibly around the stem of his glass as Vox launched into yet another self-aggrandizing anecdote.

The supper club's jazz quartet provided a soothing counterpoint to the alpha's grating voice, their mellow tones a balm to Alastor's fraying nerves.

"...and that's when I told the network executives, 'Gentlemen, the future of entertainment is television!'" Vox boomed, slapping the table for emphasis.

Alastor's painted-on smile never wavered.

"How fascinating," he purred, the words tasting like syrup on his tongue—and this omega hated sweets.

If only the fool would shut up long enough for Alastor to excuse himself to the powder room.

He took a delicate sip of the ludicrously colored drink he’d been given. Vox’s good sense to pick The Red Horizon club did not extend to his selection of cocktail, and his personality left much to be desired.

He didn’t have taste. Just flash with no substance.

But…The omega agency had certainly matched Alastor with worse prospects.

"Of course, someone in your position couldn't possibly understand the intricacies of my work," Vox continued, oblivious to Alastor's disinterest.

The omega felt a record scratching inside his brain and his temper flair.

He knew the intricacies of entertaining, and he knew them well. Not that anyone knew him for his work in radio.

The last time he attempted to mention it to Vox, he got offered a job— as the man’s ‘cute little secretary.’

Over his dead body.

"Oh, I'm sure that's true," Alastor murmured to appease the alpha, and keep him talking while the omega rested his chin on his hand. His gaze drifted across the dimly lit room, settling on the now familiar figure at the bar like a reprieve.

The blonde alpha was staring again, golden eyes fixed on Alastor with an intensity that sent an invisible shiver down his spine.

Alastor was no stranger to hungry alpha gazes, but this...this was different. There was a pull there, a black magic he couldn't quite name.

Absently, the omega traced the rim of his glass with one elegant finger.

The crystal sang softly, a faint counterpoint to his date’s endless droning.

"Are you even listening to me?" Vox snapped, jolting Alastor from his reverie.

"But of course, darling," Alastor lied smoothly. "Please, do go on. I'm simply enthralled by your tales of corporate conquest."

As Vox launched into another self-important story, Alastor's attention drifted once more to the mysterious alpha in the leather jacket. Their eyes met across the crowded room, and Alastor felt a rush of heat that had nothing to do with the little bit of liquor.

🎶Those icy fingers up and down my spine,

The same old witchcraft when your eyes meet mine.🎵

The blonde alpha's golden eyes widened, as if he'd heard the soft chime of Alastor's glass from across the crowded room.

Ridiculous, of course—the band was in full swing, couples twirling across the dance floor. And yet…those eyes held Alastor captive, warm and earnest in a way that made his breath catch.

A genuine smile tugged at Alastor's lips, unbidden. For a moment, the rest of the world faded away.

🎵That old black magic that you weave so well 🎶

"Ahem." Vox's pointed cough shattered the spell. "I said, don't you agree?"

Alastor blinked, realizing he'd been caught, again. He poured on the charm, leaning in with practiced interest. "Oh absolutely, my dear. Your insight is simply unparalleled."

Vox preened, but his satisfaction was short-lived. He twisted in his seat, following Alastor's previous line of sight.

The rough-looking alpha quickly averted his gaze, suddenly fascinated by his empty glass.

“"I see.” Turning back, Vox's lips curled in distaste. “Perhaps if you'd chosen a more demure outfit, you wouldn't be drawing such tawdry attention."

“Oh? Whatever could you mean by that Vox?” Alastor's smile didn't waver, though something cold settled in his stomach as he simpered. "Why, I was ever so mindful to dress nicely for our evening out," he purred, voice dripping with honeyed charm. "After all, you were kind enough to share your…opinions on my wardrobe choices with the social worker after our first two dates."

Inwardly, Alastor seethed.

Such was the lot of an unmated omega in this alpha-dominated world—constantly scrutinized, constantly judged. He smoothed an imaginary wrinkle from his perfectly tailored vest, thinking bitterly of the hoops he'd jumped through to meet Vox's exacting standards.

Before the dark-haired alpha could respond, a waiter rematerialized at their table. "Good evening, gentlemen. Are you ready to order?"

"Ah, yes," Vox said, puffing up importantly. "I'll have the filet mignon, rare, with the truffle reduction." He barely glanced at Alastor before continuing, "And for the omega, perhaps the poached salmon salad? I’m sure you want to be mindful of your figure, after all."

Alastor's smile became brittle, though his voice remained light. "How thoughtful of you, darling." His stomach growled in protest, mourning the loss of a proper meal.

These arranged dates were half about the food, after all—a way to indulge beyond his usual means.

As the waiter departed, Alastor sipped his drink, thinking longingly of the hearty gumbo he could have made for a fraction of the price of this overpriced lettuce.

But needs must be met, he supposed. At least the music was decent.

🎵I should stay away, but what can I do?🎵

Alastor's gaze drifted to the new frilly cocktail Vox had ordered for him, a saccharine concoction topped with a plump maraschino cherry.

A treat, the alpha had said—Alastor would rather a dry red wine. Since he wasn’t allowed his whiskey.

With deliberate grace, he plucked the fruit from his glass, bringing it to his lips. As he did so, his eyes wandered across the room, seeking out the blonde alpha at the bar.

Their eyes locked just as Alastor bit down, the cherry's sweetness popping across his tongue.

He held the alpha's gleaming gaze…just restraining himself from tying the stem in a knot with his tongue. That would be laying it on a bit thick, wouldn’t it?

🎵Darling, down and down I go,

round and round I go 🎶

"I must say, your network's latest programming schedule is simply fascinating," Alastor sighed, seamlessly returning his attention to Vox. "Do tell me more about your fall lineup."

Vox preened, oblivious to Alastor's wandering attention.

"Well, since you asked..." He launched into a detailed monologue about ratings and demographics.

As the waiter set down their meals, Vox paused his vainglorious speech. "I'm glad you're not eating too heavily tonight, dear. I'm quite looking forward to showing you off on the dance floor later." Vox leered.

Alastor suppressed a shudder, imagining Vox's grabby hands pawing at him under the guise of dancing.

"Oh? How lovely," he lied smoothly. "But surely you were about to tell me about that thrilling new game show concept?"

Vox's eyes lit up, and Alastor settled in for another interminable story, his mind already calculating how long he could delay the inevitable groping on the dance floor.

♫ ♫ ♫

As the last morsel of food disappeared from their plates, Alastor dabbed at his lips with his napkin, his mind racing for an excuse to postpone the dreaded dance.

A flash of inspiration struck, and he turned to Vox with a carefully crafted smile.

"If you'll excuse me for a moment, darling," Alastor cooed, rising gracefully from his seat. "I simply must freshen up"

Vox waved him off. "Don't be too long, sweetheart. I'm eager to…show off my moves."

Oh, Alastor could not begin to explain how he was not Vox’s sweetheart.

Alastor's smile tightened imperceptibly as he glided away from the table, his steps measured and unhurried despite his desire to put distance between himself and his boorish date.

As he passed the hostess stand, a thought occurred to him.

Pausing, he leaned in conspiratorially to the Peter, the club host. "Pardon me, but I couldn't help but notice the gentleman at the bar. Might you know who he is?"

He might expect the smiling blonde beta’s face to light up with gossip-fueled glee, but instead, it soured. "Oh, him? That's Lucifer. He's a friend of our cook.” Peter leaned close. “I wouldn’t let yourself be tempted—you can judge that apple by its skin.”

The omega kept from shooting a scowl at the boldness of the beta—this was not the place or the time.

Though, from here, he could see what Peter meant. The skin of the blonde alpha’s forearms held more ink than the Sunday paper.

"Lucifer," Alastor murmured, savoring the name on his tongue. A sudden warmth bloomed in his chest, spreading through his veins like liquid fire.

He'd never felt anything quite like it before.

🎵 I hear your name and I’m aflame.

Aflame with such a burning desire. 🎵

Alastor barely had time to settle back into the plush booth before Vox's meaty hand clamped around his wrist. The alpha's eyes glinted with a possessive hunger that made Alastor's skin crawl.

"Come on, dollface. Time to show you off," Vox growled, yanking the omega to his feet.

Alastor's smile strained as he stumbled after the alpha. "My, aren't we eager?" he quipped, trying to maintain his composure.

Vox's grip tightened as he jerked Alastor close. "You bet I am. Been waiting all night for this."

As the band struck up a lively foxtrot, Alastor found himself desperately trying to find his footing.

He was an excellent dancer. Being a tall omega meant he often lead others of his designation and female betas while the men and alphas were off to war.

Alastor could finesse any partner.

But Vox's movements were erratic and forceful, completely at odds with the music's rhythm. Each time Alastor attempted to fall into step, Vox would drag him in another direction.

The oaf wouldn't know rhythm if it bit him in his oversized head.

The brunette longed to take the lead, to show this buffoon how it was really done. But societal expectations chained him to this farce of a dance.

"Isn't this great?" Vox bellowed, oblivious to Alastor's discomfort. "You're lucky to have such a talented dance partner."

Alastor's smile twisted into something closer to a sneer. "Oh yes," he replied, voice dripping with sarcasm, "I'm positively overwhelmed by your... enthusiasm."

As Vox continued to manhandle him around the floor, Alastor's contempt grew.

His eyes darted around the room, seeking an escape—or at least a distraction. They landed on the bar, where a pair of golden eyes met his own.

🎵The same old witchcraft when your eyes meet mine🎶

Vox's hand slid lower down his back, yanking Alastor flush against him.

The omega's nose wrinkled at the alpha's overpowering cologne as Vox's hips ground against him in a vulgar parody of what should be done on a dance floor.

"Now this is more like it," Vox purred, his breath hot on Alastor's ear. "You know, as this is our third date,”

“So it is,” the omega said, hiding the wariness in his tone with a lilting tease.

“So.” Vox blundered over the beat of the music. “ I've got certain…expectations."

Alastor stiffened, his lips holding no hint of a smile. He leaned back, trying to put some distance between them.

"My dear fellow, I believe there's been a misunderstanding. The matchmaker was quite clear about your preferences for an unmated—"

"Untouched," Vox interrupted, his grin predatory. "And why do you think that is, doll?”

Alastor's eyes widened, his carefully crafted facade cracking.

"I…I beg your pardon?" He stammered, genuinely caught off guard for the first time in years. His mind raced, searching for a way to extricate himself from this increasingly uncomfortable situation without causing a scene. “I’ve no idea what you could possibly be implying.”

“Oh, don’t play like that, a male omega can’t play coy.” Vox huffed, forgetting the pretense of a dance as his pawing hands held Alastor. “I want to be the one to plant the first flag, if you catch my drift."

Alastor pushed against Vox's chest, but barely escaped an inch. "I'm afraid I'm not interested in that sort of…arrangement, sir. Perhaps we should call it a night?"

Vox's grip tightened, his expression darkening. "Not so fast, sweetheart. Do you have any idea how much I spent on dinner? On this whole evening?" He leaned in, alcohol-laced breath hot against Alastor's cheek. "You owe me something for my trouble."

A flicker of genuine anger flashed in Alastor's eyes, quickly masked behind his practiced smile.

The audacity of this utter buffoon.

"Now, Vox," Alastor said, voice dripping with false sweetness, "I don't recall agreeing to any form of transaction. Surely a gentleman such as yourself—"

His words were cut short as Vox's hand suddenly grabbed his ass.

Alastor froze, eyes wide with shock and indignation. His mind reeled, searching for a way to salvage the situation without compromising his carefully cultivated image.

Though he longed to show yet another entitled alpha what he was capable of.

But he hesitated, acutely aware of the eyes upon them, of the delicate social balance he had to maintain.

For a moment, Alastor found himself truly at a loss, his usual wit and charm failing him in the face of such brazen disrespect.

Just as Alastor's composure threatened to crack, a ringing voice cut through the tension.

"Pardon me, gentlemen. Might I cut in?"

Before either could respond, a blonde figure slid between them, deftly maneuvering Alastor away from Vox's grasp and into his own. Alastor found himself whisked onto the dance floor, guided by sure hands and twinkling golden eyes.

🎶Cause you’re the lover I have waited for.

The mate that fate had me created for. 🎵

"Lucifer," the alpha introduced himself with a roguish wink. "I hope you don't mind the interruption."

The omega’s relief was palpable, though he masked it with a coy smile. "Not at all," Alastor' sighed gratefully. "Though I’m afraid I must protest when we are caught by my proper date—as a matter of principle."

“Whatever ya need, doll.” Lucifer grinned, falling easily into step with his new partner.

“My name is Alastor.” the taller man corrected, caution moderating his tone, knowing his history of putting boundaries before alphas and how they reacted.

Lucifer just smiled, and said. “Whatever ya need, Alastor.”

And just like that, this pint-sized alpha earned his first genuine smile of the night as he stole the omega away.

🎵Under that old black magic called love🎵

🎙️ “Care to dance, darlings? Up next, ‘Sway’ by Dean Martin will leave you breathless.” 🎙️

🍒 On Ao3☕Read on Ream☕On Tumblr 🍒

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soylent-crocodile · 2 years ago

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Gelfling (Race)

(Kira by MCwuffles)

(I LOVE The Dark Crystal. If you enjoy fantasy stories and weird monster designs- and if you're on this blog I suspect you do- you simply HAVE to give Age of Resistance a watch. Infuriatingly, the show was cancelled, leaving us on an agonizing cliffhanger, but what we got is amazing and has some really well done themes of oppression and systemic injustice; we see an example of how one can't bargain with oppressors, and one of the characters realizes out loud that racial categories are fake and constructed by the ruling class.

On that subject, the story of the gelfling is one of colonization and genocide. I don't think it's my place to draw any direct comparisons between fantasy and real atrocity, but it felt a bit uncomfortable writing this with what's happening right now.)

Dwelling in faraway mountains and distant forests, gelfling are a small elflike race who once dwelled in the Dimension of Dreams, before migrating to the material plane. Historically, they lived in tune with the nature and magic of world around them, with many gelfling naturally able to talk to beasts as druids, or to draw from the magic of the world to divine fates and wave their own futures. Above all else, gelfling are connected by dream, able to safely traverse their homeland of the Dimension of Dreams in a way few other races can.

Gelfling history does not end there- their people have since been colonized, controlled, and enslaved, divided into artificial races, and made to serve the will of their cruel masters. Without a homeland or much of a support network, gelfling who escape this life often turn to adventuring. Some adventurers hope to one day retake their new home and free their people, while others simply wish to live their lives with the freedom they’ve found.

Ability Scores: Gelfling are attuned to matters of spirit and dream, but are small and fragile. They get +2 to Wisdom, and -2 to Constitution. Size: Gelfling are small; they get +1 to AC and attack rolls and -1 to combat maneuvers, as well as a +4 Size bonus to stealth. Type: Gelfling are humanoids with the Elf subtype. Languages: Gelfling begin play knowing Sylvan. Gelfling with high intelligence scores can learn Elven, Common, Halfling, Auran, and Celestial Speed: Gelfling have a 25ft move speed. Wings: Gelfling have small, delicate wings that give them a 40ft fly speed and a maneuverability of Clumsy. Dreamfast: Gelfling with charisma scores of 11 or higher can cast Mindlink as a spell-like ability 1/day. Warrior’s Spirit: A number of times per day equal to her wisdom modifier, a gelfling may reroll a 1 rolled on the damage dice of a manufactured weapon. Born of Dreams: A gelfling gets a +2 racial bonus to attempt impossible actions in the Dimension of Dreams, and may do so two additional times per dream.

#soylent original #monsters and races #playable races #gelfling #the dark crystal #age of resistance #homebrew #pathfinder

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scampir · 9 months ago

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The game I care most about right now is ICON. ICON is a ttrpg from Massif Press; a side project that takes the lessons from itch.io topper Lancer and affixes them into a fantasy game more reminiscent of Final Fantasy Tactics or Tactics Ogre. At least, that's what it looks like at first glance. Dungeons and Dragons 4e with a coat of paint that Tom Bloom's art can portray as a kind of legendary adventure of high stakes and high tensions. ICON is definitely putting its best foot forward as a grid-tactics game, but it gestures at a relationship to violence that I found a lot more engaging than Lancer's. ICON does have more rigorous rules for narrative play yes, and that is very helpful for grounding the experience of travel, intrigue, and dungeon crawling that ICON's other optional rules can help you with.

Here's the thing though. In ICON, there's a lot of writing done to flesh out the factions of the world of Arden Eld. You have the Relict, souls of the ancient empire trapped in a magical network of crystals. You have the Ruin Beasts who emerge from their unique dungeon ecologies and threaten to overtake the species of the surface, and you have the Demons who are at the bottom of the dungeons pushing upwards from the base trying to reach out into the material world so they can find more people to carve up and eat.

But ICON also has Chroniclers, historian clerics who send out Inquisitors to recover the Arkentech deep in ruins that they have recorded in the tomes of their great Chambers. ICON has Churners, who come to Arkenruins to collect the valuable glowing blue dust that remains as a by-product of powerful spells (to be sold and used in the development of new Arkentech). You have the Lowlanders, various people who have been exiled to the Blightlands (which emerge from Arkenruins left unattended) from their communities and come together to roam the blightlands, engage in strange and gruesome rituals, and most importantly come to revere the Arkenruins as a sacred space.

You have the Jotunn, giants who were made by the Gods to serve them and take care of the world. The Arken Empire killed all of the gods long ago, and now the Jotunn exist in a world either managing it in an outdated way, trying to find purpose in a hierarchy that has been toppled, or lost in their grief. That is an interesting character premise for an NPC!

I really like the Jotunn as an obstacle for the player characters. Here is a massive being who was made to be your park ranger. Their boss died and it has been around 800 years and they are still lost in grief. They still pursue their mandate, even if it’s to patrol a ruined wall or manage a migration of wild animals. They are the keepers of the old ways that we as players do not understand. If a Jotunn character needs to cling to their duty and does not want to give it up, then players might find that their goals conflict with the Jotunn’s duty.

A Jotunn leads a herd of mammoths across a road, which will take 7 days, but the players need to urgently move medicine to a neighbouring town. The Jotunn thinks that in the long run, their mammoth herd is more important than a few lives of Kin.

A group of Jotunn are hunting down a Drake, and have made camp on some Yeokin farmland. The Yeokin Council fears that slaying the Drake on the farmland will upset the Aesi of the fields.

A group of Churners have recruited an Alp, an elemental of earth and stone, to help them navigate a dungeon. While this assists the Churners explore the Arkenruin the tunnels they leave behind provide new access corridors for strange and exotic Ruin Beats back to the Churner Camps.

#ttrpg #icon rpg

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jadeshifting · 6 months ago

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— 25 DAYS OF SHIFTMAS (DAY 13)

Sleigh Bells — Are there any priveleges you have in your DR that you don’t in your CR? What are they?

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

AT HOGWARTS

★⋆. — wand privileges that stretch the rules (“it’s for Potions practice, Professor Snape, promise”)

★⋆. — access to rare potion ingredients from family stores

★⋆. — the kind of finesse in dueling that only comes from generations of magical one-upmanship

★⋆. — Hogwarts itself offers me all the perks: enchanted quills that do everything to keep my hand from cramping during essays, self-warming cloaks for those frosty mornings, and corridors so full of magic it feels like the castle wants to give me a hand

★⋆. — the castle itself seems to favor me—i’d like to think it’s because of my neverending politeness to it—staircases swing my way, and secret passages open when i’m running late

★⋆. — i’ve got connections with lots of the house-elves in the kitchens (“i know how late at night it is, but just a tiny snack, please?” works well)

★⋆. — perhaps it’s luck, but i always score the fluffiest pillows and the warmest throws in the Slytherin common room

★⋆. — and when it comes to rule-bending? i’m practically untouchable. whether it’s sneaking into the Restricted Section, slipping out for late-night escapades, or having a knack for knowing the details of Filch’s routes, i operate like a seasoned pro

THE GRIMM BLOODLINE MAGIC

being a Hogwarts student and a Grimm gives me a passport to perks most people can only dream about, and i like to think i know how to use them

★⋆. — the Grimm bloodline magic is no joke—think ancient spellcraft that practically hums in my veins, giving me a knack for curses and charms so sharp they could cut glass

★⋆. — my spells pack extra flair thanks to centuries-old Grimm enchantments woven into my bloodline, meaning my wandwork feels more like an art form than an effort

★⋆. — i’ve got family tomes of spells that aren’t in any Hogwarts curriculum, stashed away like glittering secrets in the Grimm estate’s private library

★⋆. — the Grimms’ access to ancient relics and arcane texts means i’m privy to rituals and spells some others can’t even dream of—need a love potion that works on a soul-deep level or a charm for untraceable apparation? i’m your girl :)

★⋆. — and then there’s my intuition—a sixth sense for magic that borders on eerie, sometimes it’s like the magic talks to me, hinting at secrets others can’t see

★⋆. — the fact that my family’s grimoire includes dark and deliciously complex curses doesn’t hurt either (though i’ll never admit how much fun they are to practice)

THE GRIMM FAMILY PRIVILEGES

★⋆. — being a Grimm isn’t just a name; it’s a brand, a legacy, and a golden ticket rolled into one

★⋆. — my family’s estate, steeped in old magic, has enchanted rooms that adjust to my whims, gardens where plants practically bow in my presence, and a vault at Gringotts so loaded it might as well glitter

★⋆. — the Grimms’ social standing ensures i’m always on the guest list for high-society wizarding events, from Yule balls dripping in crystal chandeliers to private broom-racing derbies in the countryside

★⋆. — custom robes from designers who’ve dressed the most famous wizards of all time

★⋆. — a name that opens doors (sometimes literally)

★⋆. — when it comes to material perks, i’m spoiled rotten—custom artifacts crafted with rare materials, spell-infused jewelry that double as protection charms, and access to potions so rare, they’re basically mythical

★⋆. — but it’s not all surface-level glitz; the Grimms have an underground network of knowledge and resources, which i dip into whenever i need something truly rare, whether it’s an obscure text or a whispered secret

★⋆. — simply put, being a Grimm means i don’t just live in the magical world—i own it

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

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pixel7777 · 5 months ago

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The Downside of Daring Rescues Chapter 18: The Story (FINAL CHAPTER)

📖 A well-earned feast, a few farewells, and a future that looks brighter (and more criminal) than ever. Astarion has a new title, Darla has a new song, and together, they have plans—big ones.🩸🎭

Read here below the break or on AO3!

This is the final chapter! If you made it to the end, I hope the journey was worth it. Your thoughts, comments, and reblogs mean the world—let me know what you think!

The back room of the Hearth and Quill gleamed with candlelight, transforming the usually bland space into something almost magical. Brass wall sconces cast dancing shadows across the rich wood paneling, while fresh flowers adorned the center of the long table—courtesy of Mistress Murding, who had practically fallen over herself arranging everything perfectly for Candlekeep's "distinguished vampire spawn guests." (Apparently Darla had not been wrong about Mistress Ploomek's network of concerned innkeepers.)

Astarion shifted in his chair, still adjusting to the novelty of being treated as distinguished rather than dangerous. Darla's warm presence on his left and Dal's familiar energy on his right anchored him as he surveyed the feast laid out before them. Roasted meats, fresh bread, and colorful vegetables filled elaborate serving platters—a spread worthy of a Patriar's table. Two warming crystal decanters of deep red liquid sat within easy reach, their contents unmistakable to his heightened senses.

Astarion reached for one of the decanters, pouring himself a measure of blood. The casual acceptance of this act felt surreal after centuries of secrecy.

A full day had passed since Vellioth's death, though it felt both longer and shorter somehow. They'd spent most of it recovering while waiting for Syl's magic to replenish enough for the teleport back. Now here they were, being feted like heroes instead of monsters. Apparently Candlekeep liked the notoriety of being cutting edge when it came to vampire spawn rights.

A shiver crawled up Astarion's spine as unwanted memories surfaced—Yousen's vacant eyes and Violet's twisted limbs as they shambled toward him. He'd been so certain then that his defiance had doomed him, that his newfound strength would crumble in the face of that horror. The wine glass trembled slightly in his grip before he steadied it.

But then Vellioth had left the room, presumably to deal with some commotion upstairs. The rescue party had arrived mere minutes later—Dal leading the charge with a fire in her eyes he'd never seen before, while Syl, Thal and Zee made short work of his chains.

"It must have killed you," he said, turning to Darla with a smirk, "having to play decoy instead of charging in with the others. All that dramatic potential, wasted."

"I managed." Darla's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Though I did propose about thirty unviable versions of the plan that put me in the room before I admitted we needed someone who could both activate the higher level spell for the Forcecage and convincingly mimic Dal for anyone who might have interacted with her before. I just hope you appreciate my selfless sacrifice."

"Well, I think I deserve some sympathy here. I've now missed watching not one but two master vampires meet their richly deserved ends." Astarion took a deliberate sip from his glass. "At this rate, I'll develop a complex."

"It would be in good company," Zee chuckled, reaching for more wine. "You've already got enough to keep a team of mind healers busy for decades."

Astarion arched an eyebrow, maintaining his most dignified posture despite the barb. "Please, darling, all my complexes are carefully curated for effect."

The wine glass felt warm against his palm as he considered the coordinated rescue that had saved him. "Though I am curious how you managed to find me so quickly in that maze of a palace. Last I checked, Syl hadn't spent much time in the palace. How did you manage the teleport?"

"Ah, that would be thanks to your literary pursuits." Syl's lips curved into a knowing smile. "Your diary proved quite useful for the teleport coordinates."

Heat crept up Astarion's neck—a physical impossibility that somehow manifested anyway. He shot a sharp glance at Darla. "Did you—"

"I didn't read it," Darla said quickly, holding up her hands. "Bard's honor."

"Dal assured us it would be connected to wherever you'd hidden it in the palace during your years with Cazador," Syl continued. "She came along to guide us to the kennels, just in case we landed somewhere unfamiliar."

Dal nodded, her familiar presence steady beside him. "I didn't know exactly where you'd kept it—only that it had to be somewhere in the palace. It was the only thing in your ruck I was certain was from there."

Astarion's fingers tightened imperceptibly around his glass. That book, rescued from beneath the floorboards of his old bunk, contained decades of carefully hidden thoughts. The idea that it had led his rescuers straight to him felt like poetry—though he'd never admit that aloud.

Astarion took another measured sip of blood, focusing on the familiar motion to ground himself. The ring of Mind Shielding caught the candlelight, and Astarion adjusted it on his finger, its protection a comfort he hadn't realized he'd missed until it was taken from him and then restored.

His thoughts darkened as he remembered their rushed exodus through the palace, gathering objects from each room for future teleportation anchors. Smart planning, even if Vellioth's death had rendered it unnecessary. But then they'd found that elevator in Cazador's study, and—

The wine glass stilled halfway to his lips.

The cages. Hundreds of them. Thousands of spawn, each marked with those infernal runes, waiting to be sacrificed. Some had been conscious enough to reach for them through the bars. Others...

He set the glass down carefully, his fingers threatening to crack the delicate stem. Turning to Darla, he found she had been following his thoughts as they crossed his face unfiltered.

"We'll go back for them," Darla said softly, her hand finding his under the table. "We'll free them all."

"Will we?" The words came out sharper than he'd intended. "And what then? Thousands of broken spawn, all needing blood, shelter, protection from the sun?" He forced his grip to loosen on Darla's hand. "Some of them have been down there since before Cazador turned me."

The silence around the table grew heavy as his companions absorbed the magnitude of what they'd discovered. Even Zee's usual quips died unspoken.

Dal cleared her throat softly. "We have the staff that opens the cells. But we have to be reasonable about using it. Master Adelie and I are working with other scholars on a release treatment program—but at best we can take a dozen a month until we can scale up facilities and trained personnel."

Astarion's jaw clenched. A dozen a month. At that rate, it would take years to free them all. His fingers traced the stem of his wine glass, remembering those desperate hands reaching through the bars. Some of those faces had been familiar—marks he had lured before Cazador had turned them and sent them below. How many times had he walked above their prison, never knowing?

"And what of the ones who can't wait?" The words tasted bitter on his tongue. "The ones like Yousen and Violet?"

He felt Darla's grip hand, but he couldn't look at her. Couldn't bear to see pity in her eyes.

"We'll prioritize the most urgent cases," Dal said, her physician's pragmatism showing through. "Those who are still..." She hesitated, clearly searching for a diplomatic word.

"Still sane?" Astarion supplied with a sharp smile. "Still capable of speech? Still possessed of enough wit to appreciate their rescue?" His free hand clenched beneath the table. "How generous of us to save the easiest ones first."

The silence stretched like a bowstring pulled too tight. Astarion stared into his wine glass, watching the blood swirl against crystal. The memory of Yousen's shuffling gait made his stomach turn.

"It's a bitter pill," Thal said finally, their steady voice cutting through the tension. "But it's what makes sense. And you know Yousen and Violet are beyond saving, Astarion. They aren't spawn anymore—they are zombies. Their souls have moved on. You know that."

He did know. He'd seen it in their eyes—or rather, in the absence behind them. Still, the knowledge did nothing to ease the ache in his chest. These had been his siblings, however dysfunctional their relationship.

"All we can do is our best," Syl added, her practical tone a welcome anchor. "The priority has to be keeping the remaining spawn safe until we can help them properly." She leaned forward, tapping the table for emphasis. "But we'll need to bring in herds of animals to keep them fed while they wait. That kind of operation won't go unnoticed."

"The Council in Baldur's Gate will find out," Thal agreed grimly. "And they'll want the spawn destroyed. Better to kill them all than risk another Cazador or Vellioth, they'll say."

"And who exactly owns those dungeons now?" Zee asked, swirling his wine thoughtfully. "Because I doubt the deed specifically mentions 'secret underground prison full of vampire spawn.'"

Astarion barked out a laugh that held no humor. The question was absurd—as if property rights meant anything to creatures the world saw as monsters. But Zee had a point. Without clear ownership, they had no legal ground to stand on, even with Candlekeep's recent ruling about spawn personhood. That only applied in Candlekeep.

"Actually," Dal cut in, setting down her glass with practiced precision, "the scholars were already thinking this through while you were plotting in Baldur's Gate."

Astarion turned to her, eyebrow raised. Trust Dal to have been ten steps ahead while the rest of them focused on the immediate crisis.

"Candlekeep will be bringing a complaint to the Lord's Alliance to claim Szarr Palace and the dungeons—on your behalf, actually."

"My behalf?" Astarion's voice dripped with skepticism.

"You're technically Cazador's oldest surviving spawn, at least that they know of. It's tricky since spawn rights aren't recognized in Baldur's Gate yet, but Candlekeep has a vested interest in preserving the site for research purposes." Dal's lips curved into a small smile. "Via Scholar Ancunín."

Astarion nearly choked on his blood. "I beg your pardon?"

"Don't worry, it's just legal fiction. No actual scholarly responsibilities required." Dal waved away his concern. "The complaint will likely be tied up in politics and bureaucracy for years—which is exactly what we want. It postpones any decisions about destroying the spawn until we can get them all out."

Astarion sat back, processing this revelation. Scholar Ancunín. The absurdity of it almost made him laugh. But Dal's plan was clever—using the very system that had ignored Cazador's crimes to now protect his victims.

He caught Darla trying to suppress a grin beside him. "Not. One. Word."

"It's not perfect," Dal admitted, straightening her shoulders in that familiar way she did when delivering unwelcome news. "But we can't afford to seem ungrateful. Some of the scholars already doubt my claims about finding no additional documentation on the Rite." Her fingers drummed once on the table. "And you know how Candlekeep feels about destroying knowledge—even dangerous knowledge. We should put our best foot forward and try to build on the wave of goodwill and curiosity our performance at the debates created."

"So we need to be on our absolute best behavior," Astarion drawled, unable to resist. "How terribly inconvenient."

Zee snorted into his wine. "Oh yes, we're notorious troublemakers. Just look at us—sitting here drinking wine like common thugs."

"Absolute menaces to society," Thal agreed, face perfectly straight. "Why, I haven't stabbed anyone in at least two days."

"And I," Darla proclaimed, pressing a hand to her chest, "have gone a full week without starting a bar fight."

"Such restraint." Astarion's lips curved despite himself. "I'm in awe of your dedication to propriety."

"We're practically angels," Syl added dryly. "Though perhaps we should avoid that particular comparison given present company."

Dal rolled her eyes at their antics, but Astarion caught the slight upturn of her lips. "I'm serious. We need—"

"To be perfect little scholars?" Astarion raised his glass in mock salute. "Darling, when are we not?"

Astarion watched Zee fidget with his wine glass, an uncharacteristic nervousness in the usually confident dwarf's movements.

"Actually," Zee said, clearing his throat, "speaking of scholars..." He set down his glass with unusual care. "I've taken a position with the Gatewarden."

The table fell silent. Astarion's enhanced hearing picked up the slight increase in Zee's heartbeat.

"What?" Darla's voice cracked slightly. "But—you can't leave us!"

"I can and should." Zee's shoulders squared. "Come on, you've all seen it. I'm the first one down in every serious fight lately. That business with the trolls? The mercenaries? I'm not getting any younger or faster."

Thal opened their mouth to protest, but Zee held up a hand.

"No, listen. I like it here. The beer is excellent, the beds are comfortable, and nobody tries to set me on fire." He grinned, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Plus, think how useful it'll be having a friend at the gate when you lot need to sneak something in or out."

Astarion recognized the deflection for what it was—he'd used similar tactics himself often enough. But he also saw the truth beneath it. Zee had been taking the worst of every fight.

"Well," Astarion drawled, raising his glass, "I suppose we'll have to find someone else to smash their way through all the doors with unpickable locks."

Zee's tension eased slightly at the acceptance in Astarion's tone. "You'll manage."

"To new beginnings," Syl said, lifting her own glass. "And old friends."

They all joined the toast—especially Dal, who was visibly pleased to have Zee's ongoing company at Candlekeep—though Astarion noticed Darla's smile didn't quite mask the wetness in her eyes.

Thal's deep voice cut through the lingering melancholy of Zee's announcement. "What about the rest of us, then? What's next?"

Dal straightened, a familiar gleam of organization in her eyes. "The scholar position for Astarion comes with an apartment—quite spacious, actually. You could use Candlekeep as a base of operations, if you like."

"And your research?" Syl asked.

"Master Adelie and I are focusing on recovery treatments first," Dal said. "Though we haven't abandoned the cure research. If we could restore spawn to their original forms..." She glanced meaningfully at Astarion. "It might help those too far gone to recover as they are."

Astarion kept his expression neutral, though his chest tightened at the implication. A cure seemed as unlikely as ever, but the thought of helping those who might otherwise never claw their way back to sanity...

"Well, I'm not ready to settle down," Thal declared. "Too many interesting fights out there."

"Agreed," Syl nodded. "Though I wouldn't mind helping with the research between jobs."

Astarion turned to Darla, studying her profile in the candlelight. "And what about us, darling? What comes next?"

Darla bit her lip, an uncharacteristically hesitant expression crossing her face. "Well... all those animals we'll need for feeding the imprisoned spawn, repaying the Harpers to help them recover from their losses, the new facilities for expanding the treatment program..." She traced the rim of her wine glass. "It's going to take a considerable amount of gold."

Her eyes met his, a familiar mischievous glint replacing the hesitation. "You wouldn't happen to know where we might... liberate some funding, would you?"

A slow smile spread across Astarion's face as he caught her meaning. "Why my dear, are you suggesting we rob the very nobles who turned a blind eye to Cazador all these years?"

Astarion set his glass down, studying Darla's face. Her earlier playfulness had shifted to something more calculated. "You realize you couldn't sing about any of that. Not for years, possibly never."

"I know." Darla's fingers traced patterns on the table's surface. "But there are other songs to sing. Other monsters to face." She straightened, that familiar gleam of adventure lighting her eyes. "There must be vampire lords in every major city along the Sword Coast. And now we're rather expert at dealing with them, aren't we?"

Dal's wine glass hit the table with a sharp click. "We have enough spawn to handle already! The treatment program is barely—"

"But surely they won't all have thousands like Cazador did." Darla's voice held a note of uncertainty. "Right?"

Astarion swirled the blood in his glass, savoring Darla's discomfort for a moment longer. Her shoulders had tensed, and that familiar crease appeared between her brows—the one that showed up whenever she feared she'd suggested something thoughtless.

"Right???"

"Relax, darling. Not every vampire lord made deals with archdevils." He took mercy on her. "Cazador was rather... exceptional in his ambitions. And since our dear Dal has destroyed the records of the Rite outside of Candlekeep—" He caught Dal's slight nod. "—I doubt we'll find quite so elaborate an operation elsewhere."

The tension eased from Darla's shoulders, though that worried crease remained. She toyed with her wine glass, not quite meeting his eyes. "Still, we should handle what we have first. I just thought—"

"That we could save everyone at once?" Astarion's tone softened despite himself. "Believe me, I understand the impulse."

He did understand—far too well. The memory of that first night of freedom rose unbidden: standing over Cazador's corpse, heart racing with possibility and terror, with nothing but a sack of paltry belongings and his fractured wits to guide him. If Dal hadn't encountered him, convinced him to go to Candlekeep...

"Though I must say," he added, unable to resist needling Darla just a bit, "it's refreshing to see you actually consider consequences before charging in to save the day."

Darla winced, and Astarion felt a twinge of regret at the barb. She truly did feel terrible about how she had left him, that first, improbable, bizarre rescue. He could see it in the way she hunched slightly over her wine, in how her usual dramatic flair had dampened to something smaller and more uncertain.

Astarion shifted in his chair, catching Darla's chin with one finger and turning her face toward him. Her skin felt wonderfully warm against his touch.

"My dear, I spent a hundred and twenty years praying to any god who would listen. Do you know how many heroes came to save me?" He traced his thumb along her jaw. "None. Not one."

She started to protest, but he pressed his finger to her lips.

"Until you. Yes, you tried to kill me first—but that worked out rather well in the end, didn't it?" He gestured at their companions with his free hand. "Look at us now. I have a roof over my head, blood whenever I need it, the best friends a spawn could wish for, and apparently a prestigious academic position." His lips curved into a smirk. "Though I suspect that last bit may damage my reputation."

That earned him a small smile. He dropped his hand from her face, picking up his wine glass instead.

"And soon we'll occupy ourselves relieving certain wealthy families of their ill-gotten gains." He took a deliberate sip. "I can't think of a more fitting way to fund our noble cause, can you?"

"Not to mention how satisfying it will be," Darla added, her usual sparkle returning to her eyes.

"Precisely." He raised his glass. "To delayed justice—and the creative redistribution of wealth."

* * *

Darla traced her fingers along the polished oak door frame as Astarion unlocked their new quarters. Their quarters. The thought made her breath catch.

"After you, my dear," Astarion said, sweeping the door open with an elegant flourish. "It didn't take too much hinting to convince Syl and Thal to give us the place to ourselves, this first night."

The apartment spread before them, bathed in the warm glow of magical lanterns. Rich burgundy carpets covered dark wooden floors, and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined the walls of the main room. A plush reading chair sat beside a window overlooking the courtyard, with a matching settee nearby.

"Look at this study," she breathed, stepping into the adjacent room. More shelves, these ones empty, waited to be filled. A broad desk dominated the space, its surface pristine except for an inkwell and quill stand. "You can write your memoirs here."

"Or you can compose your songs." Astarion's voice held an unfamiliar softness.

Darla wandered through the rest of the rooms – a proper bathing chamber with copper fixtures, a kitchen nook she'd probably never use, and two bedrooms with real beds. The master bedroom even had a vanity, which made her laugh. "This is perfect for you."

"For us," he corrected.

Darla's throat tightened. She ran her hand along a bedpost, the wood smooth beneath her fingers. "I've never..." She swallowed hard. "The longest I've stayed anywhere was three months in that boarding house in Waterdeep."

Astarion came up behind her, his cool presence steadying. "Well, Scholar Ancunín's quarters come with certain expectations of permanence."

"Scholar Ancunín." She giggled despite the tears threatening to spill. "Gods, that still sounds ridiculous."

"I'll have you know I cut quite the scholarly figure. I used to be a Magistrate, you know," He sniffed with mock offense. "Though this title has more to do with the necessary legal fictions while we sort out the spawn situation."

Darla turned to face him, drinking in the sight of him standing in their bedroom. "It's real, isn't it? We have a home."

Darla caught the slight tremor in Astarion's hand as he traced the carved mantelpiece. For all his composed exterior, this moment affected him as deeply as it did her.

"It's a bit chilly in here," he said, moving to the fireplace. "Let me fix that."

He set about building fires in each hearth, while Darla fetched their bags from the entry.

Their belongings made a pitiful showing as Darla unpacked. Honestly, it was mostly clothes, which made her grin. Hanging them in the wardrobe, she frowned at how quickly the space filled. Between her costumes and Astarion's dedication to fashionable attire, they'd need another wardrobe soon.

She carefully placed their weapons within easy reach – old habits died hard – and tucked away the few personal items they owned. Her journals went into a desk drawer. Astarion's collection of books he stole from the Patriars and his Candlekeep loans found homes on the empty shelves.

When she returned to the main room, Astarion had settled onto the settee. Two glasses of wine waited on the side table, and in his hands he held a familiar leather-bound volume – his diary. The one he'd carried since their first days together, hidden from Cazador for over a century. The one that had enabled his second rescue.

Darla sat at Astarion's gesture, accepting the wine glass he offered. Her heart skipped when he extended the diary to her, its worn leather cover soft with age.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you sure?"

"I want you to read it." He took a sip of wine. "Unless you already have?"

"No, I meant what I said. I never looked." The diary's weight felt significant in her hands. "Why?"

Astarion stared into his wine glass, swirling the dark liquid. His silver hair caught the firelight as he tilted his head. "I find myself..." He paused, jaw working. "Words don't come easily, when I try to tell you certain things. About my past. About how I feel."

He set his glass down, fingers lingering on the stem. "But you make me feel seen. Truly seen—the parts I do manage to show you, at any rate. And I want you to know all of it."

A soft laugh escaped him, though his shoulders tensed. "Though I hope you'll forgive some of my earlier accounts. Particularly regarding our first meeting. I wasn't exactly... charitable in my assessment."

Darla clutched the diary closer, touched beyond words by this gesture of trust. "Are you certain?"

"Quite certain." His red eyes met hers. "Start at the beginning. I want you to understand everything."

Darla clutched Astarion's diary closer, touched by his trust, but something tugged at her conscience. "Wait." She jumped up, hurrying to the bedroom and returning with her own leather-bound journal. "Fair's fair."

She extended it to him, fighting the urge to snatch it back. "Though I expect similar charity in your judgment."

"Shall we read together?" Astarion's eyes sparkled with interest. "Perhaps start with our first meeting? We can save our earlier entries for another time."

"Oh gods." Heat crept up Darla's neck. "You first."

They settled onto the settee, pressed close together. Astarion found his entry quickly, and Darla couldn't help but laugh at his clinical assessment of her as a mark.

"'Entirely too trusting for her own good'?" She poked his ribs. "I wasn't that bad."

"My dear, you followed a strange man into a dark alley."

"Before I saw your fangs! And I had a plan."

"Ah yes, your 'plan.'" He flipped through her journal. "'His voice is like honey and silk' – really?"

"You're one to talk. Look at this – 'The mark appears susceptible to flattery and basic charm.'" She affected his accent. "'A simple seduction should suffice.'"

"And yet." He tapped a particular line in her journal. "Someone wrote three paragraphs about my kissing technique."

"Kisses you completely forgot about!"

"Those didn't count." He sniffed. "I was working."

Darla turned a page and burst out laughing. "Oh no, look at this drawing. I tried to capture your hair but—"

"Is that supposed to be me? I look like an angry sheep."

She buried her face in his shoulder, shoulders shaking. "I got better! Eventually."

"Mm, yes. Particularly these more recent sketches." He raised an eyebrow at a rather detailed drawing. "My, my, someone was paying attention."

"Give me that!" She grabbed for the journal, but he held it out of reach, grinning.

"'Last night was incredible,'" he read in a sing-song voice. "'I never knew vampire stamina could—'"

"Stop!" She collapsed against him, laughing. "You're terrible."

Darla's laughter faded as she turned to earlier entries in Astarion's journal. Her heart clenched at the raw fear bleeding through his normally precise handwriting.

'Freedom tastes like ashes. What use is choice when every option leads to destruction? The world wants me dead or enslaved. There is no place for me here.'

She traced the shaky letters, imagining him writing this in some hidden corner, hungry and alone. The next entry was barely legible, ink splattered where his hand had trembled.

'I dream of Cazador finding me. Of crawling back, begging forgiveness. At least in chains I knew my place.'

Astarion's cool fingers brushed her cheek, catching a tear she hadn't realized had fallen. "Your turn was quite enlightening as well." He indicated a passage in her journal. "You rewrote that first song seventeen times?"

"Twenty-three," she admitted. "I kept hearing your voice. 'Another vapid tale of heroics.' I wanted to show the truth of it – how we were both trapped in roles we didn't choose or didn't fully understand."

He turned another page in her journal, revealing draft after draft of what had become 'their' song. Notes crowded the margins: 'Too dramatic here.' 'He's not a victim, he's a survivor.' 'Show his strength, not just his pain.'

"And here." His finger traced a line in her journal. "Your determination to defend me. Three pages of creative threats, my dear? I'm flattered."

"Four pages," she corrected. "You missed where it continued in the margins."

Darla set both journals on the side table, careful not to spill their wine. Astarion pulled her close, his chest cool and solid against her back as he rested his chin atop her head. The fire crackled, casting dancing shadows across their new home.

"Do you know the most remarkable thing about you?" His voice rumbled through his chest. "From the very beginning, even at my worst, you saw me as a person."

"You were." She settled more comfortably against him. "Are. My favorite person, it turns out."

"Yes, well, you helped me truly become one." His arms tightened slightly around her. "More than the legal recognition or Dal's research or even killing Cazador. You made me believe I was more than what he made me."

A thought struck her. "Speaking of Dal's research..." Darla twisted to look up at him. "If she does find a cure, will you take it?"

Astarion's eyebrows shot up, genuine surprise crossing his features. He went quiet, considering.

"I'm... not certain," he said finally. His fingers traced idle patterns on her arm. "You'll think me mad when you read those early entries, how desperately I wanted to be 'normal' again." He gave a soft laugh. "But I've come to... well, to like who I am. Who I've become."

The admission seemed to surprise him as much as it did her. "I'm not as convinced as I once was that I need to change it."

Darla shifted, swinging her leg over to straddle Astarion's lap so she could look directly into those captivating red eyes. Her heart fluttered at his surprised expression, the way his hands automatically settled on her hips.

"Listen," she said, taking his face between her palms. "I love you, exactly as you are. And if tomorrow you decide to be someone different—mortal, immortal, whatever you choose—I'll love that version of you too." Her thumbs traced his cheekbones. "We're going to keep changing the world and each other, but the way I feel about you? That's not going to change."

A mischievous grin spread across her face. "Though I noticed your diary admitted your own feelings first. In writing, even, when you still haven't said it out loud." She tilted her head. "I hope your love won't change either?"

Astarion's eyes softened, and his cool fingers tightened on her hips. "I love you, Darla Daring." His voice held none of its usual artifice. "Utterly and completely."

When he kissed her, Darla melted against him, warmth spreading through her chest. After a moment, she broke away with a gasp.

"Oh! This would make an excellent love song—would you mind if I just took a moment to write down that last bit?" She was already laughing as she said it, knowing his response.

"I most certainly do mind," he growled, pulling her closer. "Though if you'd like to compose something about what I'm about to do to you next..." His fangs grazed her neck. "You're welcome to try."

Darla's mind raced with potential lyrics even as Astarion scooped her up from the settee. Her quill and journal were somewhere—oh, but his lips found that spot beneath her ear that made thinking difficult.

"Wait, I've got one," she gasped as he carried her toward their new bedroom. "'Your touch sets my heart aflame—'"

"Terrible," he murmured against her neck. "You clearly require additional inspiration."

"Fine. 'Your kiss makes my blood run—' No, that's worse." She squirmed as he set her on the bed, his clever fingers making quick work of her bodice laces. "'When passion strikes like lightning—'"

"Darling." He pulled back just enough to slip her blouse over her head. "Are you really going to compose right now?"

"I need to capture the moment!" But her hands were busy with his shirt buttons. "Oh! 'In darkness deep as wine—'"

His laugh vibrated against her collarbone. "That doesn't even make sense."

"It would if you'd let me finish." She arched as his cool fingers traced down her ribs. "Something about... divine..."

Her thoughts scattered as he kissed his way down her stomach. What rhymed with divine? Entwine? That could work...

Darla's mind still raced with potential lyrics, but Astarion's cool lips trailing down ever lower made focusing increasingly difficult. The meter of her latest verse scattered like leaves in a storm as his hands traced paths that sent shivers up her spine.

"The rhyme scheme," she protested weakly, even as her fingers tangled in his silver hair. "I almost had it..."

His laugh vibrated against her skin. "My persistent poet." He nipped gently at her hip. "Still trying to capture the moment?"

"I—" The clever retort died in her throat as his fangs grazed a particularly sensitive spot. Her back arched involuntarily. "That's not fair."

"Neither is composing when I'm attempting to make love to you." His cool breath ghosted across her inner thigh. "Though do continue. What rhymes with 'divine' again?"

"I..." What had she been thinking about? Words? Poetry? His tongue traced patterns that made coherent thought impossible. "I forget."

"Shocking." His voice held wicked amusement. "No more songs?"

Darla's response dissolved into a gasp as Astarion demonstrated exactly how thoroughly he intended to derail her creative process. Her last fleeting thought about meter and rhyme vanished entirely, replaced by the pure joy of being here, being loved, being home.

Some moments, she decided hazily, were better left unwritten.

* * *

From Darla's Journal, tucked between performance receipts and pressed flowers:

The Downside of Daring Rescues

(A Work in Progress)

Verse 1:

I thought I'd save the day

Like heroes often do

But saving you that day

Meant you saved something too

Chorus:

Oh, the downside of daring rescues

Is when they follow you home

But the upside of caring too much

Is never being alone

Verse 2:

Your eyes held secrets dark

Your smile promised sin

I should have known that spark

Would let the danger in

(Bridge - needs work)

From predator to prey

From stranger to guest

From "go away" to "stay"

From cursed to blessed

Verse 3:

You picked apart my pride

Showed truth behind my shine

Until my ego stepped aside

Bound your path and mine

(Alternative chorus - which works better?)

The downside of playing hero

Is when the story doesn't end

The upside of letting you stay

Is finding more than a friend

Margin Notes:

Scribbled at the bottom:

He finally said it! ♥♥♥♥

* * *

Astarion settled at his new writing desk, the candle's flame steady in Candlekeep's still air. The leather of his journal felt familiar under his fingers as he opened to a fresh page.

What a peculiar thing, to read through those old entries with Darla. To see myself through her eyes and the eyes of my past self, page by page. The desperate, hollow creature I was when we met. Using every trick I knew just to survive another night. And now...

He dipped his quill, considering his words carefully.

I have a home, a hilarious new title, a party, allies, friends. But more than that, I have purpose. Real purpose, not just staying alive out of spite.

There are so many of them down there in those dungeons. Each one as broken and desperate as I was. As I still am, in many ways. The work ahead feels endless. Twelve per month?

But Darla's right — we'll find a way to speed things up. Rob the bastards who enabled Cazador blind and use their coin to fund more resources. Sweet justice, that. And I know exactly which Patriars to start with.

It's strange having so many people I trust. Syl. Thal. Zee. Dal. And Darla... Gods, Darla. Reading her journal, seeing how she fought her feelings for me even while fighting for me. I don't deserve her. But I'm keeping her anyway.

I still wake sometimes expecting to find myself back in that kennel. Still flinch at sudden movements. Still struggle to believe this is real. But it is real. This is my life now. Benevolent thief. Scholar. Rescuer. Lover. Free man.

We have so much work ahead. But for the first time in over a century, I'm looking forward to tomorrow.

He paused, then added with a smirk:

And if that tomorrow involves redistributing some Patriar wealth? Well. That's just going to be fun.

#bg3 #astarion #bg3 fanfic #myfic

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allisonjwatts · 27 days ago

Text

"LIKE AN APPARITION APPEARED IN THE KITCHEN, I AM OVERPOWERED..."

►GENERAL INFORMATION

FULL NAME: Allison Jean Watts NICKNAME(S): Ally, AJ, Ally-Jean LABEL: The Mystic / The Seeker AGE: 30 DATE OF BIRTH: October 13, 1994 ZODIAC: Libra Sun, Pisces Rising, Virgo Moon GENDER & PRONOUNS: Female; She/Her HERITAGE: German, Scots-Irish/Northern Irish, English, Danish SPOKEN LANGUAGE(S): English OCCUPATION: Occult Specialist / Folklorist / Podcast Host SEXUALITY & ROMANCE: Lesbian; Homoromantic

► APPEARANCE

FACE CLAIM: Grace Van Patten HEIGHT: 5'7" WEIGHT: 121 lbs. DOMINANT HAND: Right HAIR COLOR: Brunette - currently dyed blonde EYE COLOR: Brown SCARS: None notable. TATTOOS: White ink rune for protection that she found in her mother's journal - on her right ribs

►PERSONALITY

POSITIVE TRAITS: Inquisitive, Resilient, Charming, Romantic. NEGATIVE TRAITS: Enigmatic, Defiant, Lonely, Guarded. LIKES: Collecting vintage typewriters and trying to write letters on them, the sound of rain hitting old tin roofs, wearing mismatched socks, practicing calligraphy with ink she makes herself, drinking strong black coffee in vintage porcelain cups, having a small collection of odd-shaped crystals and stones on her windowsill, finding obscure herbs and plants for her teas and spells, listening to audiobooks in the car during night drives. DISLIKES: The smell of new plastic or synthetic materials, people who overuse emojis in serious conversations, overly bright, fluorescent lighting, when people mispronounce Latin or old European languages, the sound of loud chewing or slurping, people who touch her books or journals without permission, excessive small talk at networking events.

►MENTALITY

PHOBIAS: Nyctophobia DISORDERS: Not diagnosed. ALLERGIES: N/A

►BACKGROUND

HOMETOWN: Manhattan, NYC, NY CURRENT RESIDENCE: Windsor Bay, OR EDUCATION LEVEL: MA in Anthropology with concentration on Occult Studies & Folklore FAMILIAL CONNECTIONS: - Kevin Watts, 67, Father, Not In Contact - Genevieve Watts, 42, Step-Mother, Not In Contact - Serena Watts, Mother, DECEASED

►FAVORITES

FOOD: Black Garlic Ramen with Soft-Boiled Egg and Charred Greens DRINK: Smoked lapsang souchong tea with oat milk and a touch of honey MOVIE: The Others TV SHOW: The OA BAND/ARTIST: Chelsea Wolfe SONG: “Teignmouth” by Patrick Wolf

► EXTRA INFORMATION

JUNG TYPE: INFJ ENNEAGRAM: The Individualist (4w5) TEMPERAMENT: Melancholic MORAL ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Good SIN: Pride VIRTUE: Courage ELEMENT: Water CHARACTER PLAYLIST

“It’s hard to dance with a devil on your back, so shake him off”

► BIOGRAPHY

TW; Death mention, Struggles with sexuality/acceptance

Born into New York’s elite, Allison Watts grew up surrounded by marble halls, leather-bound books, and the weight of legacy. Her family, the Watts', were titans of publishing—owners of Watts & Whitmore, a century-old literary empire known for its prestige and political influence. Her childhood home was an Upper East Side townhouse steeped in silence and expectation, more museum than sanctuary. From an early age, Allison was labeled the heir apparent. She was taught how to walk, talk, and think like a future CEO. Piano at five. French by seven. Public appearances by twelve. Her days were structured down to the hour, and her future had a five-year plan by the time she entered high school. But the deeper truth was less polished. Allison’s mother—her birth mother—died under mysterious circumstances when Allison was just three. Officially, it was “an accident,” but whispers followed the family for years. Her stepmother, Genevieve, entered the picture almost immediately after, cloaked in elegance and secrecy. Only later would Allison begin to uncover the truth: her mother’s obsession with the occult was real, and Genevieve was far more than she seemed. While Allison’s exterior was poised perfection—private schools, cotillion balls, and Ivy League grooming—her interior life was something else entirely. She was endlessly curious, inexplicably drawn to the arcane, the forbidden, the mystical. As a child, she would steal away to read about Tarot, spirit photography, and Victorian séance culture. She kept dream journals and coded letters, half in Latin, half in longing. By the time she was a teenager, Allison knew she was queer—but queerness had no place in the world she was born into. Her queerness, like her fascination with death and the hidden world, was folded into silence. Even among friends, she kept her true self veiled behind charm and intellect. She was adored, envied, watched—but never truly known. At twenty-two, fresh out of her elite liberal arts college, Allison’s father revealed his “surprise”: a pending engagement to Rowan Montgomery, the heir to another powerful family. It was a merger masked as a marriage. Rowan was kind, dull, and completely unaware of Allison’s internal war. She played along—for a while. Secretly, she applied to Cornell, lying to her family about attending Columbia Law. Instead, she enrolled in a graduate program in anthropology, with a focus on occult studies and folklore. Her thesis was on “The Repressed Witch: Queerness, Power, and Persecution in American Occult Traditions.” She met Zara in a graduate seminar. Zara, who saw straight through Allison’s masks. Their connection was instant, electric, and utterly terrifying. For the first time in her life, Allison felt seen. When the wedding date loomed, Allison detonated the life constructed for her. On what was supposed to be her engagement weekend in the Hamptons, she stood before her family and told the truth. She was gay. She had never wanted this life. She would not be a bride, or an heir, or a Watts in the way they demanded. The fallout was nuclear. Her father disowned her. Genevieve called her “possessed.” The trust fund vanished. The invitations were retracted. And Allison—grieving, furious, liberated—packed two suitcases and left New York behind. Now living in a tiny apartment in Windsor Bay, Oregon, Allison makes her living through her podcast, “The Obscura Files”, which explores hidden histories, lost goddesses, secret societies, and the supernatural roots of civilization. The podcast has a modest but loyal following, and it has become both her income and her therapy. She consults for museums, indie documentaries, and even the occasional private client—people who want to find haunted things, or understand what they’ve inherited. She’s a scholar, yes—but she also believes. Deeply.

► PERSONALITY (DEEP DIVE)

Allison is defined by a profound need to uncover hidden truths—about the world, about her past, and most importantly, about herself. She is drawn toward mystery not just intellectually, but spiritually and emotionally. She embodies the Seeker archetype—always searching, always questioning—but with the soul of a Mystic, who believes the hidden is sacred. Allison’s self-concept is composed of clashing dualities—privilege and rebellion, visibility and secrecy, intellect and belief. Her early life was dictated by external expectation, leaving her with a deep ambivalence toward structure and authority. Yet, once she made the decision to break away, she did so with unwavering conviction. Her sense of self may feel unstable at times, but she is never passive in her self-definition. Allison learned young how to perform: to hide her queerness, her grief, her fascination with the occult. This has made her an adept social chameleon, able to navigate elite spaces with charm and poise. But beneath that lies a profound hunger for authenticity, a desire that now governs her adult life. Her current work—and the emotional risks she takes—are all aimed at reclaiming what was once suppressed. Allison is both deeply romantic and deeply guarded. Her formative relationships (a distant father, a cold stepmother, a deceased birth mother) conditioned her to expect abandonment or manipulation. She longs to be known, but fears what will happen when she is. This push-pull dynamic is reflected in her relationship with Zara: an intense emotional bond she both embraced and feared. Allison's attachment to memory, lineage, and myth is not just scholarly—it's emotional. She relates to the dead, the forgotten, and the haunted because she sees herself among them. She may struggle with living people, but she has profound intimacy with what’s gone. Allison blends intellect and instinct with unusual fluidity. She is analytically sharp—trained in anthropology, folklore, and cultural theory—but she also trusts dreams, symbols, and gut feelings. This synthesis allows her to work in both academic and esoteric domains without contradiction. Allison doesn’t just gather facts; she decodes patterns. She’s drawn to systems of meaning—runes, Tarot, poetry—because they offer frameworks for understanding emotional chaos. Her mind organizes reality symbolically, turning personal trauma into mythic narrative. Outwardly poised, Allison manages her emotions through intense self-control, ritual, and intellectualization. Internally, however, she experiences a maelstrom of longing, grief, rage, and love. Her podcast and research are emotional outlets disguised as academic work. Not clinically depressed, but marked by a persistent low-grade sorrow—a residue of exile, unresolved mourning (her mother, Zara), and the ache of unsatisfied longing. This melancholy lends her a poetic sensibility but also inhibits her from fully embracing the present. Allison does not believe in moral binaries. Her values are shaped by empathy, intuition, and personal truth. When forced to choose between decorum and honesty, she chooses honesty—often at great cost. She is willing to dismantle institutions, relationships, and even herself in pursuit of truth. Her moral decisions often resemble mythic choices: the daughter who leaves the palace, the witch who chooses exile, the lover who walks through fire. These inner narratives influence how she sees herself—as someone meant to bear pain for the sake of transformation. People are drawn to Allison—her beauty, her intensity, her intelligence—but very few get inside her inner circle. She can charm a room, but connection is rare and sacred to her. She thrives in one-on-one intimacy but finds social performance exhausting. Because she was once silenced, she is drawn to the silenced—queer ancestors, folk practices dismissed as “irrational,” histories erased. She feels responsible for these voices and often takes on a kind of archivist or midwife role to lost narratives.

► HEADCANONS

Collects antique Tarot decks and spirit photography from the 19th century.

Favorite poet: H.D. (Hilda Doolittle).

Keeps a journal she never lets anyone read—half anthropology notes, half spells.

She has a secret stash of vintage postcards from occult shops and old libraries, which she sends to herself as reminders of places she dreams of visiting.

Her phone wallpaper is a faded photo of a Victorian-era spirit photographer she admires.

When nervous, Allison unconsciously taps her fingers in a rhythm that matches old folk songs she studied in college.

She collects vintage fountain pens but only writes her most important journal entries with a specific emerald-green one.

Allison has a tiny potted lavender plant on her windowsill that she talks to, believing it soothes her energy.

She’s terrible at small talk but is an excellent mimic and can perfectly imitate a dry British accent for sarcastic inner commentary.

Whenever she’s deep in research, she wears a mismatched pair of earrings—one shaped like a moon, the other a star.

Her idea of a perfect day off involves a mix of thrift store hunting for books and binge-watching old black-and-white horror films.

She once tried making her own incense blend but accidentally created something that smelled like burnt rubber; she still keeps it because it “reminds her of failure and growth.”

When writing podcast scripts, she reads them aloud to her cat for “performance practice.”

She has a playlist of ambient sounds—like crackling fireplaces, rain on windows, and distant church bells—that she plays to help her focus.

Allison keeps a secret file of weird, little-known folk superstitions she wants to try out someday.

She has a superstition of never crossing running water without touching a hidden charm sewn into her coat.

On birthdays, instead of parties, she writes handwritten letters to herself reflecting on the past year and future hopes.

#windsorbayintro #//HERE SHE IS #//THIS IS SO LONG

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