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[intermundia]

I'm a different anon, but your answer to that person, about how we all have our own perspectives and such, got me curious if you wanted to talk about your favorite things about Anakin? I really like how he has this earnest passion in everything he says and does, no matter what the consequences are. He lets his instincts and heart influence what actions he takes. I think you could say the same about Obi-Wan too to a degree, but I think Obi-Wan errs to keeping his emotions/intentions concealed until he has the best advantage he can get. And I think that this sort of "two sides of the same coin" contrast between them is part of what makes the ship appealing. Anyway, yeah, I wanted to know what you enjoy about Anakin ^^ And that other anon too, if they want to send another ask about their feelings/thoughts

Oh man, what a question. You've activated my trap card. Anakin Skywalker is possibly my favorite character of all time. It's endlessly fascinating to read stories about him, and writing him allows me to articulate the messy, painful, thwarted parts of myself. He's half my brain, and Obi-Wan is the other half, and resolving their differences brings me deep catharsis.

Everything you said about him is so true, his earnest passion is so deeply appealing. Obi-Wan called him passionate, fearless, forthright, and he is the embodiment of those traits, but he's flawed too, and flawed in ways I feel in my bones, and regrets the same things that I regret. He's so beautiful and so damned, a fallen and risen angel, you know?

Stover wrote that the brightest light casts the darkest shadow. He ends up at just the nadir of cruelty and violence, but he begins from a place of pure generosity and light. His intentions were so good, and he was so impossibly brave. It seems like arrogance, that cocky assurance of what he was capable of, but the universe bends around him to fit his will.

He's more than human, he's half-divine, a mirror and barometer of the entire galaxy's mood. His life is coextensive with the rise and fall of an empire, his personal tragedy from greed is both archetypal and relatable, and he is the scaffolding the narrative rests inside. Luke is the hero of the story but Anakin is the embodiment of the world he strives against.

He is painfully earnest and a liar, a villain and a victim, naive and jaded, brilliant but foolish, perfect and deeply flawed. It's so easy for me to understand why he was so beloved. He's absolutely the other side of Obi-Wan's coin, the heart to Obi-Wan's head, the passion to his reason, the instinct to his experience. The Team together is one complete and fully realized being, separation means incompleteness and disaster.

Vader is just one of the most iconic villains of all time, and Lucas defied all expectations in the prequels. He used his character to tell a cautionary tale about greed rather than give excuses for why he became such a monster. He is intentionally shown to be so generous and kind as a boy, handsome and daring as a man, with infinite wasted potential for good, it's incredible.

Idk man, I like him and I love him, I hate him and I want him; he's one of the best characters of the modern age.

[punkeropercyjackson]

Percy Jackson has tgirl swag

Potrayed as the best hero ever in-universe because she defies traditional manhood and it's just who she is and can't help being which doubles as autistic/audhd with no masking ability coding and irl transfeminism and autism largely overlap

Nonstop abused by men her whole life and a mama's girl who's friends were all girls growing up except an effeminate boy she stood up for against bullies and has a magic mental link with from how close they are in completely platonic friendship and a canon gay boy who had a crush on her until he realized she's not the ideal man he thought she was and she compared her treatment of him to acting like a/her mom and they have the middle brother/eldest daughter dynamic

Wears hoodies all the time

Dad is Poseidon-the sea has a lot of femininity to it and he told her 'the sea does not like to be restrained'

Punk but subculturally instead of an aesthetic poser

Gender envy towards Thalia and Annabeth,who is punk in lifestyle AND aesthetic and who is described as 'like a princess'(Poseidon is the king of Atlantis so Percy is an actual princess)

Thalia has tgirl swag too and Annabeth is played by Leah Jeffries in the show while Book!Percy is black-coded

Dated Rachel,a girlypop neurotic activist artist,but they broke up on good terms and became even closer friends afterwards

Horse girl with a transmasc Horse(Blackjack was a mare in Som but a stallion in TTC)

Her foil,Luke,is a physically abled allistic conventionally attractive blonde blue eyed cishet white man that constantly talked down to her about how he's more of a radicalist than her and had a harder life even though he was sheltered in a literal fantasy land for years where everybody worshipped him while Percy grew up friendless,poor,abused by her stepdad and bullied at her schools to the point she got kicked of 6 at 12 for how much of a bully beater she was and is an anarchist and intersectionalist with an overt sense of community and 11+ books worth of street cred and he was also a serial pedophile and had a lot of subtext of being into her and parallels to his relathionships with his other victims

Her other side of the same coin is Jason,an ex-wolfkid turned dorky team dad who's a paragon of positive and healthy masculininity and his arc is about creating a new self after loosing his old one everybody in his original life knows but he dosen't and they instantly became best friends with romantic chemistry out of being opposites yet the same and their friends poke fun at them for how obvious and quickly they got attached and they're black cat gf x golden retriver bf,Team Parents,hothead gf x chill bf and most popular guy x outcast girl where the girl is actually way cooler and Jason's butch ex-girlfriend said Percy is unimpressive in terms of masculinity compared to him

And Percy's other pseudo-kid(and Jason's)alongside Nico is Hazel,who's got the classic 'ressurection as a metaphor for transition' storyline and her femininity including how she acts alongside the gender presentation part is baby black transfem supreme and her life was basically a 40s version of Percy's earlier life

Loves burgers,skateboarding and cartoons

Obsessed with blue,considered a 'boy' color but it comes from her mom

Would totes have a blahaj and a strong video games interest.You see it too,right?

Men describe her as intimidating and off-putting,women describe her as enchanting and comforting(/ref to that fish meme)

Implied to want to present femininely at multiple points but dosen't reach out of fear of being ridiculed because she's 'supposed' to be male

Is the 'cool hot alt girl with a snarky bitter outside and a soft gooey inside who's the Team Mom and super capable and experienced' trope

But everybody in the fandom turns her into the 'Just Some Boy dumbass boyloser manchild' trope so they can deny she's unconventional and expectional

Named Percy.Percy isn't a greek name or a geek name,it's a girl name

[darkurgetrash]

Gods' Damned Gale Dekarios!

Hi all! After reading this amazing post by @gale-dekarios, I couldn't help but write this silly, goofy one-shot. Please enjoy!|[Read on AO3]

Rating: General Audiences Wordcount: 4,576 Summary:

Opulentus is Waterdeep's most renowned wizard—a charming, handsome prodigy whose charisma commands respect. But when his long-time nemesis, Gale of Waterdeep, returns after years of disgrace, everything Opulentus holds dear is threatened. Gale, once stripped of his magic for defying Mystra, has somehow become the hero of Baldur's Gate, returning with a beautiful fiancée, newfound fame, and an air of humility that leaves Opulentus seething. Now, there is only one question on Opulentus' highly intellectual mind... What is Gods' Damned 'Gale Dekarios' up to?!

Requested Tags: @onlyfangz @kwrite1776 @dont-try-pesticide

Opulentus had always considered himself quite the ladies' man. It was hard not to, after all, when you were the most renowned, most wealthy, and most handsome wizard in all of Waterdeep. From child prodigy to a fellow at Blackstaff Academy, the very same institution where he'd studied since he was just a bright-eyed boy, there was no greater catch in the city. He was a legend in his own right, with a knack for charm and a wit that could melt even the hardest of hearts.

Tonight would be no different, he decided, as he twizzled his luscious, dapper moustache between his fingers, his gaze roaming across the rambunctious regulars of The Quaffing Quaggoth before landing on what might have been the most beautiful woman he'd ever layed eyes on. She stood out even in the crowded tavern, her presence like a breath of fresh air amid the rowdy patrons.

She was a half-elf by the looks of things, with soulful, winged eyes and long, dark waves that cascaded down her back in a flawless display of beauty. Her warm tawny skin was radiant, her cheeks kissed by rouge and her lips a gentle shade of berry pink. Her features seemed as if sculpted by Sune herself, crafted to be the perfect match for Opulentus' own magnificence.

Opulentus couldn't help but smile. Here was a challenge worth his considerable talents. He adjusted his shirt collar and straightened his posture, making sure his charms were in full effect.

Then, with an air of unrivalled confidence, he took a step forward, ready to make an impression. The wizard's reputation preceded him, but he knew that his charm would have to do the rest. After all, beauty like hers deserved nothing less than the best Waterdeep had to offer. And that, of course, was Opulentus himself!

“Oh, barkeep!” he called, suave and cool, as he stood beside her at the bar. As expected, she turned her head at his magnanimous presence. “A glass of your finest wine, please. For myself and…” He glanced at her with a wry, flirtatious smile. “This goddess among mere mortals.”

The woman raised her eyebrow at him, an amused smile curving her lips. She was probably thanking the gods for her good fortune, Opulentus thought, to be noticed by him—the most successful man this side of the Sword Coast.

“That’s quite alright,” she replied, her lilted voice sending shivers down his spine. “I have plenty of coin for my own drink.”

“Ah, but m’lady,” he said, mirroring her expression, “one so beautiful should not have to spend her own coin, no matter how much of it she may have.” 

He let his gaze sweep down her frame, noting her graceful yet slightly athletic build and the freckles dotting her collarbones. Could this be the woman he'd finally settle down with?

“I’m afraid to tell you that I’m quite taken,” she said, holding up a hand to stop the bartender as he moved to pass her the glass of wine.

“‘Taken’ is but a small obstacle, my dear,” he scoffed, running his fingers through his hair, making sure to flex his biceps as he did so. “I assume you know who I am?”

“Not at all,” she replied, her unimpressed tone making it clear how devoutly she was playing hard-to-get. By the gods, this woman was practically throwing herself at his feet!

“Ah, but then you must have travelled far! For I am the greatest wizard on the Sword Coast, a celebrity in my own right. My name is—”

“Elminster’s Beard – Gary? Gary Johnson?”

At the mention of his given name, one he'd long repressed, a chill ran through him. Not only because of the rude interruption but because it was a voice he knew all too well. His long-time nemesis, a rival to end all rivals.

“Gale of Waterdeep.” He snarled, turning to see the man standing behind him. The sight was enough to make his skin crawl—Gale, with his quickly greying long hair tied back in a bun, and his annoyingly perfect face wearing that insufferably charming smile. How could it be genuine after the embarrassment he'd suffered two years ago?

Indeed, when Gale of Waterdeep—the one man who had always outshone him, ever since their days as juniors at Blackstaff Academy—had proven himself a foolish, arrogant wizard, when he'd dared to betray Mystra, and was subsequently stripped of his magic, Opulentus had rejoiced. It was the happiest day of his life! Finally, he was the best! 

Yet here was Gale again, voice bright, skin radiant, with that same smile that made Opulentus grind his teeth. How could he be so joyful, so confident, after everything that happened? It was inconceivable – nay, impossible!

But he wouldn’t let such a disruption ruin his game. The man was a cad, a poor excuse of a wizard, and he would not let him take this chance from him.

He forced a charismatic smile to return to his face, as if the mere sight of Gale didn’t have him already quaking with envy, and patted the man firmly on his tall shoulder.

“Ah, my old friend!” He cheered through gritted teeth, “How have you been? Though you are quite mistaken, my name is Opulentus. Gary Johnson was my…” He paused, trying to conjure up an excuse. “...my brother! Ah, but that little fallout with Mystra must have rattled your brains some, hmm chum?”

“You always were so very humorous!” Gale replied, his laughter sounding so genuine that Opulentus could do nothing but blink in response. “And ‘rattle my brains’ it did, I’m afraid. Though, I’m sure you’ll be happy to know, I am quite returned to my old self – though certainly with many improvements!” 

Gale skirted around him so that his hand lay on the beautiful woman’s shoulder – so bold! So brazen! However, as he did, she looked up at him with the largest, most adoring eyes that Opulentus couldn’t help but blush… Ah, but in rage! Was this some twisted nightmare?!

“Opulentus, this is my betrothed, Tav. Does she not put the stars to shame?” Gale said oh so sweet and softly that Opulentus’ skin prickled. “Tav, this is… Opulentus. He and I trained at Blackstaff together as young men.”

“Nice to meet you, Opulentus.” She said, her tone equally as amused as before, though there was something softer in it, touched by tenderness. By gods, she was smitten with Gale of Waterdeep of all people! What lies must this man have wrought to have captured such a goddess’ heart so fully? For the second time no less?!

“Charmed,” he replied, sharply, but with as much false delight as could possibly be mustered, given the circumstances. 

But ah…! Was this not the perfect opportunity to make this poor girl aware of the man’s true nature? It would be cruel to keep her in the dark, surely this is why fate brought her to him! He’d rescue her, a beauty from a beast, and in the process, woo her. But that was his destiny. He was sure of it. 

“Tav, you say? And how did you meet?” He snarled. “Last I heard, Gale, you had secluded yourself to your tower in disgrace! Nought but a tressum to keep you company.”

“You are right, old friend,” The man nodded, seemingly… unbothered. “It is much too long a story, but the short of it is that — in a world of infinite possibilities — fate somehow brought the two of us together… Under the threat of ceremorphosis, no less!” He chuckled. “I’d have never thought I’d be thanking a mind flayer for my good fortune, but I suppose stranger things have happened.”

To say Opulentus was confused would be beyond obvious. Who was this man in front of him, so non-combatively taking such blows? Completely humbled yet talking of strange and potentially grave matters as if they were nothing? Something was surely amiss.

“Ah — then Tav, you must have saved this poor soul, I assume? My old friend, you see, had been stripped of his magic after defying his ex-lover, the goddess Mystra herself! I’m sure he must have been quite the burden to you.”

“Oh no, we saved each other in more ways than can be imagined.” She said lovingly, as giddy as could be as she lay a slender hand on Gale’s chest, he beaming at her, the heat between them unavoidable. Opulentus was beginning to feel angry. But no — he shouldn’t lose his cool. After all, he was the successful one! The powerful one! The one with… credentials! He’d finally beaten Gale of Waterdeep!

“You’re too modest, my love,” Gale said. “But, ah, we should be heading off. Wouldn’t want to keep mother waiting.” He wrapped his arm around Tav’s waist as she stood, floating to her feet like some ethereal being. “Let us meet again, soon, Opulentus. I’m sure my love would be most regaled by our schoolboy days – how competitive we both were!”

Opulentus’ smile fell flat. How dare this man pretend that the competition didn’t remain? Wasn’t he now flaunting his beautiful betrothed right in his face?!

"A pleasure, Gale of Waterdeep," he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Likewise, and please, it’s Gale Dekarios now. So long!”

And with that, the wizard and the beauty disappeared from the bar, leaving Opulentus scowling, a stem of wine in hand that he didn’t even bloody like. Ah - blows to it all! This wasn’t over, not by a long shot. Gale might think he had won some grand prize with his new love, but what did he know? After all, this Tav clearly had poor taste in men, seeing as she had chosen the most disgraced wizard in Waterdeep. Quite, she would not have been worth his time – a firebolt dodged, if ever Opulentus saw one.

Gale ‘Dekarios’, hmm. A plain name quite befitting a fallen rival.

Opulentus took a swig of his wine, grimacing at the taste. Who needed love and relationships? He had success, prestige, and all the respect that came with being the best wizard on the Sword Coast, a fellow of Blackstaff Academy. Let Gale keep his pretty bride-to-be; it didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. What truly mattered was respect. And Opulentus had plenty of it.

With a self-affirming nod, Opulentus downed his wine and stormed out of The Quaffing Quaggoth – nearly tripping over his own feet as he did so.

“Quiet down, class, quiet down!” Opulentus urged as he entered the lecture hall, his voice echoing off the stone walls. Normally, his students were quick to settle when he gave the command – his reputation as a strict yet brilliant professor preceded him – but today was different. The usual murmurs and whispers had escalated into a cacophony of excited chatter, much to his irritation.

"Class, quiet down!" he called again, this time with more authority. He banged his staff on the podium, which usually silenced the rowdy students, but today it had little effect. His patience was thinning, and he could feel the heat rising to his cheeks. What could possibly be so interesting that it overshadowed his entrance?

He focused on some of the students seated near the front, leaning in slightly to catch snippets of their conversation. It didn’t take long for him to piece together the cause of the commotion.

“Did you hear? The new Professor of Illusions is one of the saviours of Baldur’s Gate!!”

“YES! And oh my gods, and he’s sooo handsome!”

“-- And his partner! My bisexual awakening for real for real.”

“Seriously, such babygirl energy.”

“The biggest, I’m literally rattling the bars on my enclosure right now—”

Opulentus’ eyebrow twitched. So that was it—some new hotshot had taken the role of "celebrity professor," drawing all the attention away from him! Well, he certainly wasn't about to let some flashy hero usurp his position as the academy’s most respected instructor, even if they did have an impressive title.

Of course, he too had heard of the situation over in Baldur’s Gate – it had become international news at this point, the talk of every tavern. A Netherbrain had threatened the city only to be destroyed by a group of adventurers, and in several of the higher Wizarding circles, it had even been rumoured to have ties to Karsus, though that seemed preposterous, nothing more than illicit tales.

He cleared his throat and raised his voice authoritatively.

"I'm sure you're all quite excited to meet your new instructor, but in the meantime, you're in my class! Let's show a little respect, shall we?" The students quieted a bit, though he could still see their eyes darting back and forth with whispered gossip, like they couldn't wait to get out of his lecture and hear more about the new professor.

This would require a more forceful approach. He banged his staff once more, harder this time, and then leaned forward with a stern look that he reserved for such occasions. 

“You’re here to learn the advanced arts of Transmutation, not to gossip about other professors. Now, open your texts to page seventy-three, and let's begin–”

“ – Sorry to interrupt, old friend!”

Opulentus’ blood turned cold. Gods. Not him… anyone but him.

The lecture hall erupted once more in excited chatter as Gods’ Damned Gale of Waterdeep – ah, Gale Dekarios, suddenly waltzed into the room, his genial hand raised in greeting as he moved with effortless grace. The wizard wore immaculate scholarly robes, each step radiating an air of self-assured charisma that made Opulentus seethe. The students were captivated, and his annoyance grew with every whisper.

He had been the one to save Baldur’s Gate?! Infeasible! Absurd! The man must have shared some resemblance to one of the heroes and caused rumours to spiral, as they so often did in academic institutions. It could not be!

He clenched his jaw, trying to regain his composure as Gale approached closer, his smile as wide as ever, his demeanour exuding easy charm. Opulentus straightened, preparing to speak with the man quietly, without drawing more attention.

“I hope I’m not inconveniencing you at all, my astute colleague,” Gale said, “but I wondered if I may be so bold as to join your lecture? I believe it would be most beneficial to observe your teaching style with these particular students before taking them on myself, next period.”

Opulentus could feel rage boiling like a frog in a pot deep within his chest, so intensely that he was certain it was affecting his cholesterol levels. But what choice did he have? It was, as the saying goes: ‘Keep your enemies close, and your… friends closer?’ Wait, was that right? It didn’t seem right. Bah, alas. It didn’t matter.

"Of course," Opulentus said, forcing his tone to stay light and welcoming. "I’d be delighted to have you sit in. I'm sure you'll find my teaching style quite... instructive." He added a slight edge to his last word, just enough to hint that he was in control here, not the intruding, fraudulent Gale Dekarios.

Gale grinned broadly. 

"Thank you, Opulentus! I look forward to learning from your vast experience."

Opulentus gestured to a chair in the corner of the room, a clear signal that this was as far as Gale would be allowed to intrude. 

"Feel free to take a seat over there. I was just about to begin our discussion on advanced transmutation techniques. I'm sure you'll find it enlightening."

Gale nodded with a smile and made his way to the designated spot, his presence drawing the attention of several students who whispered and pointed in his direction. Opulentus took a deep breath, reminding himself that he was the one in charge here. Gale could observe, but he would not disrupt the lecture. Not if he had anything to say about it.

He turned back to the class, raising his voice to regain their focus. 

"Alright, everyone, let's get back to our discussion. Please open your texts to page seventy-three, and let's dive into the finer points of matter fabrication…" 

Throughout the lecture, he couldn't help but glance at Gale out of the corner of his eye, watching for any signs of further interference. But Gale just sat there, smiling and nodding, as if he were the most obedient student in the room.

Oh, how he hated him. Stupid, handsome, charming Gale Dekarios! This had to be another ploy, some underhanded scheme. The Gale he knew would have been all interruptions, eager to be the centre of attention. Yet, the man in his classroom was playing the role of humble observer—graceful, courteous, infuriatingly well-mannered.

Opulentus clenched his fists beneath the podium, his knuckles white with frustration. What had happened to the brash, reckless Gale he knew? This new version was even more unbearable. And the students! They were enchanted by him, their eyes constantly flicking over to where he sat, hoping to catch his eye.

But Opulentus refused to let Gale's presence diminish him. He'd worked too hard, earned too much respect to let one exiled wizard, no matter how charming, take that from him. So Gale had a pretty wife and the adoration of students. Big deal! Opulentus still had the accolades, the titles, the power that came with his position. He was still the respected professor, the one with connections to the most powerful wizards in Waterdeep.

He was the Opulentus! He'd won their rivalry!

Yet, as his eyes kept darting toward his new colleague, an unsettling feeling began to creep in. Was it… admiration? No, it couldn't be. Respect? Even more absurd. Gale was a has-been, a disgraced wizard who had defied Mystra herself, the goddess of magic. To admire him would be laughable.

And yet... there was something about Gale's unshakable confidence, his genuine warmth with the students, that gnawed at Opulentus's sense of superiority. It was as if Gale had found a different kind of power, one that didn't rely on accolades or titles. 

And it was maddening.

“Please, I thank you all for your kind welcomes, but I can hardly take so much credit!”

“Mr Dekarios, no need to be so modest! What you did was quite spectacular – if you don’t mind me saying so! From disgraced wizard to the chosen of Mystra, and with power even more potent than before!”

“You flatter me, but please, call me Gale.”

Gods! Even in the staff room, there was no relief from this man! Opulentus sat in the corner, sulking over a mug of black coffee, glaring at Gale over the rim of his glasses. The wizard was surrounded by colleagues who fawned over him, eager to hear his tales and bask in the glow of his newfound glory. Turns out – as inconceivable as it was – Gale Dekarios had been a saviour of Baldur’s Gate. Along with his betrothed, Tav, who was apparently a scholar in her own right, a sorcerer local to that city.

Opulentus took a long, bitter sip of his coffee, feeling the heat scorch his tongue but doing little to warm his mood. Why was everyone so taken with Gale all of a sudden? The man had been a pariah not long ago, a laughing stock among wizards. Yet now, here he was, the hero of Baldur's Gate, Mystra's chosen, and the most popular professor at the academy.

Gods. He couldn't stand the way everyone treated Gale like a celebrity, as if his past failures had never happened. It was as if Opulentus' years of hard work, his dedication to his craft, meant nothing compared to Gale's apparent underdog comeback. It wasn't fair!

But as he sat there, scowling into his coffee, a realisation struck him. It wasn't just the attention that bothered him—it was the fact that Gale didn't seem to care about any of it. He wasn't seeking adoration or approval; he was just... there, enjoying the company of others, sharing stories, and spreading good cheer.

And looking ever-so dashing as he did so…

…Bah! But it was all for show! It must be! Yet, try as he might, Opulentus could not make sense of it. He closed his eyes and pictured a grand conspiracy board with strings and thumbtacks, connecting all the dots of Gale's previous manipulations and betrayals. Surely there was a pattern here, some thread that would explain how Gale had orchestrated his miraculous comeback, how he had once again stolen the spotlight from under Opulentus' nose.

But no matter how hard he tried, the lines remained tangled, the connections fuzzy, and the dots... incongruent. It just didn’t make sense.

Well, fine!  If Gale wanted to play the role of the humble hero, so be it. Opulentus would play the role of the brilliant, stoic professor—the one with real power and authority. 

He loudly cleared his throat.

"Ah, Gale, quite the story! I'm surprised you're not writing books by now with all these tales. Although, I suppose it's easier to entertain people with fancy retellings than to actually do any real work, isn't it?"

The other staff members turned to Opulentus, a few of them raising their eyebrows at the unexpected jab. Gale, however, didn't seem fazed. He… chuckled!

"Well, storytelling is an art, after all.” He smiled. “But you're right, Opulentus—nothing beats the hard work and dedication that would go into writing novels, as I’m aware you have done time and time again. I guess that's why I have so much respect for you and your teachings! You’ve always been one to work tirelessly, never settling for less, be it in your writings or in the classroom."

Opulentus blinked, thoroughly surprised at the unexpected compliment. It surged something warm inside him, a friendly caress to his ego, and he found himself… blushing.

The other staff members nodded in agreement with Gale's words, a few of them even smiling at Opulentus with a newfound appreciation. It only made him more flustered—this wasn’t the reaction he'd intended at all!

He cleared his throat, trying to maintain his composure, but the warmth spread across his face and down his neck betrayed him. He’d tried to undermine Gale, only to end up complimented himself. Gods, it was baffling! But he couldn't backpedal now, not in front of the other professors.

"Yes, well," he managed to stammer, "dedication is key, as you well know. But let’s get back to work, shall we? We've got students to inspire and knowledge to impart." He tried to sound authoritative, but the quiver in his voice betrayed him even further.

“Absolutely!” Gale nodded with a grin that seemed annoyingly sincere, as if he were truly delighted by Opulentus’s words. “And thank you, as ever, for such riveting conversation, old friend. Let us catch up later, hm?” Gale said, giving Opulentus a friendly pat on the shoulder before leaving the staff room with a confident stride.

Opulentus watched him go, feeling the sting of defeat as his colleagues exchanged bemused glances and hushed whispers. He sat in the ensuing silence for a few minutes, gripping his mug, trying to push thoughts of Gale from his mind, but his introspection stirred, unrelenting and unquenchable.

No! No, he would not be defeated!

Resolutely, he slammed his mug down with a loud clatter and stormed out of the staff room, his mind racing with indignation. Damn it all, enough was enough! In just two days, Gale had swooped in, stealing the spotlight and proving himself to be Opulentus’ better once again. He wouldn't stand for it—not this time.

Turning the corner at the end of the long hall, his eyes fell on his rival across the hallway, the wizard speaking to a couple of students with his usual charm, the perfect picture of humility and enthusiasm. Opulentus cleared his throat loudly, causing Gale to turn toward him with that infuriatingly warm smile. The students glanced at Opulentus, then quickly scurried away, clearly sensing the tension.

"Alright, Gale," Opulentus said, his voice dripping with forced civility. "What's your plan? What are you after? Don't think I don't know what you're up to!"

Gale raised an eyebrow, his smile fading slightly. 

"Plan? What do you mean?" he asked, genuine-seeming confusion in his tone.

"Don't play innocent!” Opulentus replied, crossing his arms. “You return to Waterdeep and your first call of action is to show me up! Bah – waltzing around and acting all friendly and humble, like a changed man, but I know you. You just want to steal the spotlight, steal my thunder as you always have done! But for what? What is your reasoning, old ‘friend’?”

Gale paused for a moment, his expression softening as he looked at Opulentus. There almost seemed to be a look of pity behind his eyes and such a sympathetic gaze turned his stomach to knots. He almost couldn’t bear to maintain eye contact.

"No, Opulentus, that's not it at all," Gale said at last, calmly. "Though… You are right, in a sense. I was once an arrogant man, the perfect picture of a wizard full of hubris, and it only led me to ruin… as you well know.”

Opulentus shifted on his feet awkwardly, annoyed at himself for losing his composure. Yet, this was good. This meant that this ‘new Gale Dekarios’ would finally reveal himself.

“But I have changed. The journey I went on, the people I met, it showed me a different path – one I could have scarcely foreseen. I used to be obsessed with power and recognition, and I made a lot of mistakes because of it. I hurt a lot of people, including you.”

The man’s big brown eyes turned softer still, cute like a calf, guilty as could be. It struck a chord in Opulentus’ stone heart – but no… no, this… Was this true? Was Gale… apologising?

“...I would not be so careless again. I hope you can accept my most sincere apologies, and that we can perhaps forge a comradery going forward, perhaps even a friendship. You know… I’ve always respected you, Opulentus. I think we could learn a lot from each other.”

Gale offered his hand, palm open, inviting Opulentus to grasp it. Opulentus found himself gulping.

“What do you say? Shall we start over?”

Opulentus was taken aback. He’d expected denial, excuses, maybe even a fight, but an apology? And such a sincere one? It threw him off balance. He searched Gale's eyes, expecting to find some hint of deception, but there was none. Just honesty and remorse. He felt his anger waver – but no, could it be true?! Could Gale of Waterdeep really have changed? It was difficult to accept, but the warmth in his voice, the genuine regret in his eyes, seemed too real to ignore.

And so, Opulentus thrust his hand forward, grasping Gale's with a firm grip and giving it a hearty shake. Was it peculiar to say that it made his heart… flutter?!

“Alright, Gale,” he said slowly, keeping his expression neutral, though he was sure his confusion and fluster was evident. “We can start over. But don't think this makes us friends. Not yet. I’m still watching you.”

Gale nodded, a faint smile on his lips. 

“Understood. Though, I hope you’ll forgive me for saying that I’m hopeful!”

Opulentus smiled back at him, releasing his hand with annoying reluctance. He cleared his throat.

“Depends,” He said, swallowing down that strange and unfamiliar feeling entangling inside of him. “...Does your wife-to-be have a sister?”

[forest-falcon]

Not written anything in ages. Just scribbled this down while making dinner. Gonna continue to scribble this evening and hope for the best!

Scott whump plus tinies being tinies.

💙🧡💚💛❤️

The Butterfly Effect

Chptr 1

It was nothing.

Scott's head throbbed in retaliation at the thought, and the pilot suddenly regretted the English breakfast he'd savoured just a few short hours ago.

Tentative fingers explored the swelling at the back of his head. 

He inhaled a hiss as the injury bit back, and the eldest Tracy found himself nose-breathing to abate his rising nausea.

Ok, so it was something...but it had to be nothing.

Nothing until he was home, dry and safe - then he could rest...sleep it off - ice it, if needs be. 

Nope.

Scott lost the bile battle and found himself filling a in-flight bag he usually reserved for passengers.

Goddamn it.

He closed his eyes, tilting his head back, willing the universe to equip him with a functional brain - one that could last out the two-hour flight back to Tracy Island. He just needed to plot a course, then One could bring him home.

Then, and only then, could it be something. 

One hovered patiently, her hum soothing and familiar in the absence of family.

"Thunderbird One?"

Fuck. He had to get going now before younger brothers grounded his clumsy ass. Scott summoned his best game face and ignored the sensation that his hair was gelled wrong.

"John? To what do I owe the pleasure?"

He'd confess his stupidity once home. Suffer the wrath of the Virgil-brows, and worse - Grandma, if he could just skip out on a hospital stay. 

"Thunderbird One, you've not moved from your current location for some time. Is everything okay?"

"Sorry John, just had some stuff on my mind. Will fill you in later. I'm setting off now."

Scott allowed his fingers to dance over the controls, trusting muscle-memory over conscious thought. Thinking seemed to be a prelude to filling further bags - a desire he had no wish to to kindle.

"You sure you're okay?"

"Yes. FAB. M'good." 

One's boosters fired and Scott swiped the hologram of his brother away.

Thunderbird One began her journey back across the South Pacific Ocean.

* * *

Scott's line went quiet.

"M'good."

John chewed on a pen-cap as he turned the phrase over in his head. 

"Is everything okay, John?"

EOS hovered just at the edge of his peripheral vision.

"I think so."

"Penny for your thoughts."

John chuckled. Pennies hadn't been used for decades.

"Did Scott seem... different at all to you?"

"Not noticeably."

"Can I have a reading on Scott's vitals please? I'm sure everything's fine..."

"Blood pressure is slightly low, and heart rate raised, but all within normal parameters given recent exertion on mission."

"Good."

 "My records show that Scott has been working longer hours than usual. He perhaps sounded a little tired, especially given his choice of words."

"I thought so too. I'll get Virgil to check in on him when he's home. If something's bothering Scott, I'm sure Virg can work his magic with a tête-à-tête."

"Failing that, a stay on Thunderbird Five should help to take the weight off, once I've removed the artificial gravity."

John threw his pencap at the AI.

"Thunderbird Four?"

"Present and correct!"

Gordon's voice sounded like a double espresso in comparison to Scott's. 

"Mission status, if you please."

"All crew have been safely extracted."

"And the vessel?"

"Four's never better."

John rolled his eyes and looked to EOS for strength.

"The ship, Gordon."

"You're gonna have to be a little more specific than that, Thunderbird Five. The sea is full of ships," Alan's voice chirped in.

John glared at the comms line. He could hear their smug, stupid smiles. He was being set up. May as well get it over with.

"What is the status of Shippy. Shippy. Bang. Bang."

"Ooooh, that ship. I mean, she's not really a ship, more of an S.S.O, strictly speaking," Gordon sniggered. 

S.S.O, was nearly as bad as Brain's R.A.D, in John's book. Gordon had coined the phrase Ship Shaped Object, to define any ocean vessel not fit for purpose.

"Yeah she's toast. S.S.O Rust-Bucket's embarking on her final voyage to the ocean floor." Alan supplied.

Our amateur angler friends are back on dry land, so we'll be heading back. Clean up will have to wait until the storm has passed."

"FAB."

[the-pen-pot]

Gwaine chortled as Percival tucked a silver coin next to his plate. 'Again?'

'Again,' he acknowledged mournfully. 'I thought you were exaggerating.'

'He was.' Leon spoke from where he sat to Gwaine's left, only for a pained expression to twitch across his face. Duty and honour meant the Knight Commander appeared to live in a happy world of denial, but even he could not ignore the evidence playing out at the High Table.

Gwaine ran his gaze along its length, not caring about the visiting nobles or Uther in his finery. Even Morgana, as lovely as ever, could not hold his attention for more than an appreciative moment. He was too busy watching Arthur and Merlin, who in theory were murmuring among themselves, but in practice were sharing some of the most prolonged, intense, indecent eye contact he had ever had the pleasure to witness.

'How have I never noticed?' Lancelot mused from the opposite side of the table. Feasts always started out with everyone facing towards the centre of the room, but it always dissolved into disarray as the evening went on. He and Elyan sat straddling the bench across from Gwaine so that, technically, their backs weren't to the High Table, but it meant they could all cluster together, rather than passing the conversation back and forth along a row.

'Because you're too busy making the same eyes at my sister,' Elyan teased, guffawing when Lancelot gave a quiet, wistful sigh.

'Lancelot's looking respectfully,' Gwaine pointed out with a grin. 'There's nothing respectful about that. They look like they want to –'

'Quiet.' Leon's warning was fond and friendly, but it was one to heed. The court, loud and raucous as they were in that moment, still had ears, and Camelot's rumour mill was vicious. Not that it needed any help from Gwaine. Anyone who cared to look would see their prince staring at his manservant like he was trying to work out the quickest way to get him naked and spread out under him.

'Well, they do.' Gwaine shrugged, grinning into his cup. 'Don't know why they don't put each other out of their misery.'

'How do you know they haven't... you know?' Percival asked, raising a questioning eyebrow.

'Too much tension,' he replied. 'It's a miracle they're not setting things on fire, looking at each other like that.

Elyan let out a pained sigh as he rubbed at the bruise on his shoulder from that morning's training. 'Arthur carries a lot of frustration into the duelling ring, if you know what I mean.'

They all winced at that, because he wasn't wrong. Arthur was still the best of them, and he was a punishing taskmaster.

'Maybe one of us should interfere?' Gwaine mused. 'You know, give them a nudge in the right direction?'

'Absolutely not. Leave them alone, all of you.' There was more than courteous respect in Leon's voice. Something thrummed, urgent, beneath his words. He picked up his cup and took a drink. 'They'll get where they're going in their own time. Not before.'

Gwaine sighed, setting his goblet on the table and spreading his hands in surrender. 'If you say so.'

'Some things can't be rushed. Especially not love.'

That made everyone pause, all of them giving Leon a sideways look before, slowly but surely, turning their attention back to Arthur and Merlin.

Leon was a practical man, not often prone to flights of romantic fancy. Maybe that's what made Gwaine search a little deeper and realise that he was right. If it was just about what was in their breeches, Arthur and Merlin would have been at it like rabbits years ago. Instead, their hearts had got involved somewhere along the way.

Maybe it was when Arthur had defied his father to gather his knights to him, indifferent to their lack of so-called nobility. Perhaps it was when the secret of Merlin's magic had come to light, confessed to his closest friends. Or maybe it had always been there, right from the very first day.

Either way, neither one of them would be the man they were today without the other's presence. If not for Merlin, Arthur would still be an arrogant, bratty prince, too wrapped up in himself and the lessons of his father to be the king Camelot needed. Without Arthur, Merlin would never have found his purpose. He'd have been forced to drift through the shadows of a half-life, always hiding, all the power that was his to command and nothing to feed it but his own loneliness.

The gods knew how that might have ended. Arthur would probably have become like his father, harsh and cold. For his part, Merlin may well have ended up as barmy as the other sorcerers they found, drunk on power and lacking in compassion, filled with nothing but hatred for a world that reviled him.

Instead, they brought out the best in each other. Together, they were the fulcrum on which the scales of Camelot's future hung. They were the ones who would tip the balance from greed and corruption. They'd rewrite laws and peel back decades of hardship, not just for the kingdom, but for each other. He was pretty sure they'd lay the whole world at each other's feet, given the chance.

Gwaine picked up his goblet again, letting his gaze sweep around the room as if seeing it for the first time. Already there were subtle changes. Normally the tables would be groaning beneath the burden of their bounty, but for once there were signs of moderation. While some lords were deep in their cups, loud and boisterous, others spoke companionably with each other, their expressions intent and lit with a hope that had not been there a year ago.

Uther may be present – living still – a man made of shadows and resentment, but he was no longer the one to whom the court turned. Gwaine knew how these games were played. He'd been noble once.

Now, people went to Arthur for help. They spoke to him, quietly, of their concerns, and he was not the only one. Maybe Merlin was nothing more than the prince's manservant, but the councillors listened when he spoke. They respected him. Maybe they, too, could see the future that awaited them.

One with two good men ruling side by side, rather than a tyrant standing alone.

'Love?' he asked, his voice little more than a murmur. 'Yeah, I can see that.'

'And so will Uther, if he looks closely,' Lancelot warned, all trace of his amusement fled. He stared at the King like he might an enemy on the battlefield, all anger and dread. 'He'll try and put a stop it.'

'Then we don't give him the chance.' Gwaine shrugged, draining his goblet and setting it aside, feeling his resolve settle in him. 'We keep him busy and let those two get on with it.'

'You think they'll admit how they feel?' Elyan asked.

Gwaine raised an eyebrow as Arthur leaned in to gain his father's attention, no doubt making his excuses for the night. He spoke quickly and respectfully, but Gwaine didn't miss the way that, when Uther nodded, Arthur cast a slow, hot look in Merlin's direction, nor that Merlin returned it, full of promise.

'Maybe sooner than you think.'

They watched them go, and not even Leon bothered to hide his subtle grin. Gwaine returned it with one of his own and wondered if they were all thinking of the future they hoped to one day witness.

He'd lived in bitter, corrupted courts. He'd seen first-hand the hardships that the powerful could rain down on the helpless, and he had promised himself he would never be part of it again. Yet he could see, with a clarity any seer would envy, how the world Arthur and Merlin would build together would be different – better. Not only a powerful citadel and a mighty throne, but a prosperous, peaceful kingdom that anyone could call home.

And Gwaine, who had never stayed in one place for long, would be happy to do just that.

[spacebarbarianweird]

The Dhampirs of the Sword Coast - Chapter 1

Astarion's daughter Alethaine has been an adventurer for six years but the whole experience was, at least, dissapointing. Now the young dhampir has to decide if she has to return to her parents or try her luck in Waterdeep.

This is the first chapter of the longfic dedicated to the adventures of dhampirs, vampire spawns' children. The events are set in 1537 DR, forty-five years post-game. Alethaine's age is 25. The stories about her childhood are here. The most of the characters are original but there will be cameos of Baldur's Gate companions, Forgotten Realms NPCs etc. I am tagging my whole list as usual BUT if you don't want to read this story, feel free to contact me. I will create separate tag lists for different auidiences.

Thanks @queenofthespacesquids for beta-reading!

Read on AO3

The List of Chapters

Alethaine Ancunin (High Elf/Necromancer) - age 25. Lawful Neutral.

Theris (Tiefling/Bard) - age 27. Chaotic Neutral.

Ulsha (Half-Orc/Paladin) - age 26. Lawful Good.

Alethaine Ancunin decides she will not spend another night in the woods.

She needs a bath. A bed instead of a bedroll and a roof above her head instead of a tent. 

The elf puts her hand into her pocket, touching the silver coins. Not much. Practically nothing if she wants to sleep in one of the Waterdeep taverns. At least something if she is fine with a bedbug house on the outskirts of Crown of the North.

Maybe, sleeping in a tent isn’t a bad idea. It’s much better than the dungeon she was locked in for two months back in Daggerfoll. And for what? She only insulted a cleric. Not her fault he was easily offended!

But the thought of setting up camp and casting protection spells makes her sick. The dhampir’s back is sore because of her heavy traveling sack. And she suspects her leather boots have rubbed her feet raw and bleeding

“One night in the inn, and then I will go to Waterdeep and find something profitable. It’s the richest city on the Swords Coast! There must be something for me!”, she thinks.

“But it’s a city of guilds”, another voice reminds her. “And you are a dhampir, you can't even join an adventuring party without attracting too much attention. It’s difficult to survive on your own.”

Alethaine shuts off the inner voice and enters the Inn. A woman, a dark-haired elf, glances at her from behind the bar.

“Name?”

“Alethaine.”

“Just Alethaine?”, the elf squints her eyes.

Alethaine puts the traveling sack onto the floor. 

“Just Alethaine.”

“No rooms available”.

“Really? I don’t see many people around!” 

“No. Rooms. Available!”

“Then why did you ask my name?”

“You look like a Tel’Quessira. But you aren’t one. I don’t want any trouble.”

Alethaine looks around. From all the possible inns in the area of Waterdeep, she’s managed to go to a place owned by an elf! 

Unlike any other creature in Faerun, elves always feel something is off with Alethaine. They immediately know she isn’t actually an elf and it's not her quarter of human blood to blame. 

Dhampir.

When Alethaine was a child, it was just a word. Her best friend was a dwarf and she was a dhampir. Someone's father was an innkeeper and hers was a vampire. The fact she had fangs or skin too pale for a living person was something everyone in Daggerlake got used to. 

And her ability to walk on ceilings was just a funny ability, not a weird trait. 

But the real world shoves her dhampirism up to her nose, forcing Alethaine to always keep a low profile.

Don't open her mouth too wide to show her teeth. Control her emotions so she doesn't let her eyes glow red. Never use the useful skill of defying gravity and walking on walls in front of others.

And as if being half-undead isn’t enough, the gods decided to give her innate magic skills.

For necromancy.

“Go away, girl,” the innkeeper looks uneasy. It is a fear in a mask of disgust.

“Listen” Alethaine switches to Elven, her second mother tongue. “It’s been a very long day. I am tired as fuck. Maybe, we could negotiate? I have been an adventurer for six years and know a lot of spells. Maybe you have some issues with the undead or maybe someone died and you need to know where the papers for the Inn are?”

The innkeeper loses her patience. Persuasion isn’t Alethaine’s strength.

“You are not a real elf, Alethaine,” the woman laughed.”I don’t know what kind of trick you use to look like that, but you can’t lie to the True People. You stink of death and profane magic.”

“It’s called necromancy.”

The elf lets out a scared laugh.

“I am not talking about that! I have known a lot of necromancers in my lifetime. Maybe you can resurrect an animal or two, it’s not a big deal. But you are not an elf. And I am very much sure you aren’t a fully living person. Go away!”

“Go fuck yourself”, Alethaine says, and then adds a few vicious insults mentioning the elven gods, the woman’s ancestors, and compares the innkeeper to a drow, more precisely, to a drider.

The innkeeper just points at the door. Alethaine picks up the sack and leaves the inn.

As it happens, the weather outside is disgusting. Autumn. The month of Marpenoth. Pretty pleasant time in the South but, hells, miserable in the North.

Alethaine sits down on the porch. Her feet hurt and the dhampir thinks she can smell her own blood. 

I wonder what my parents would do, she suddenly thinks. 

They parted ways six years ago. Her mother, Tiriel the Barbarian, was invited to Luskan as the head of the city guard (and also someone who was experienced enough to beat the shit out of cultists) and Astarion had already been fed with the small boring town of Daggerlake.

Maybe, it was time to return to them? Luskan is pretty far away from Waterdeep but if she gathers enough money to buy a place on a ship…

Of course, Alethaine’s parents will welcome her with open arms, making sure she feels at their new home the same as she felt in Daggerlake. But the thought of returning looking like a stray beaten cat without any money or anything to be proud of loathes her. 

A stupid thought, of course. If Alethine really learned anything by being a lonely adventurer, it is the fact loving parents are a very rare thing. 

Alethaine stares at her pale hands. An elf who isn’t an elf. White skin as if of a dead person. Long pointy ears. A pair of vampiric fangs. 

She doesn’t look like her mother. Tiriel is a tall half-elf with red hair, and freckles dance all over her back and shoulders. Mother would come back after being absent for a week muttering “I killed a fucking wyvern and befriended a werewolf, he is staying in our basement until we sort things out” and immediately doze off in Astarion’s arms. Tiriel is loud, brave, and reckless - Alethaine would always grab her hand when they went to a city market in the surface part of Daggerlake. 

People often asked Tiriel what crypt she had found her pale daughter in.

Yes, Alethaine is a half-vampire. She is much more like her father’s daughter. The same silver hair, though straight, not curly. Fangs. Certain facial features. Tiriel would always say she has his nose and his form of lips.  Alethaine is his replica except for the body warmth, of course. Astarion has none, his skin  as cold as the world around him. 

Meanwhile, Alethaine’s living beating heart runs hot blood through her veins. Half-undead blood, to be honest.

Sometimes Alethaine wonders what his life had been like before he crossed paths with her mother forty-five years ago, in 1492 DR. But it had undoubtedly been something very bad, and Astarion doesn’t want to talk about it with his only daughter. Something so bad that her father, who fears no gods, no monsters, no devils, nothing, sometimes cries with fear in the middle of the night. 

Once or twice, she asked Astarion questions. Just out of curiosity. But he looked at her as if her words had caused him physical pain. 

Alethaine looks up - the rain intensifies. The dhampir shivers.

When she was young she couldn’t wait till the day she would hit the road. She wanted to see the world on her own, to have her own adventures similar to ones her parents had before she was born. 

They both trained her - sometimes her mother just took her into the woods for a week or two, forcing Alethaine to survive in the wilderness using very few tools and things - how to set up a fire, how to find food and identify poisonous plants. Everything which might come to use when Alethaine is on her own.

And also teaching how to dodge a two-handed ax.

“Once the fighter wields it, they can’t do anything. Just look at the blade and use your instincts. You are smaller and faster than I, make it your advantage!” Tiriel would say lifting the ax in the air as Alethaine was preparing to jump away. 

Her father taught her to use daggers and fangs. “Princess, magic is magic but a blade is a blade. Don’t rely on spells”. 

Astarion showed her how to pick up lockets and traps and, most importantly, how to attack a bigger enemy from behind.

“Most of the enemies you will meet will be taller and bigger than you but few of them would see a five-foot-tall elven maiden as a threat”.

They trained Alethaine well, Astarion, and Tiriel. They made sure their daughter could protect herself in this dangerous world.

She wraps herself in a black jacket. Astarion made it for her when she was seventeen. Black, with pockets, nothing unusual except for the embroidery of a red dragon inside and a text in Espruar. Anyone unfamiliar with the Elven language would consider it poetry or a prayer.

It is neither. The text is simple and beautiful like any text written by Tel’Quessira.

Ai armiel telere maenen hir, saren damia.

You hold our hearts forever, our child. 

A short reminder that Alethaine isn’t alone in this world. 

Maybe, fuck the pride, and return to her parents? To the only people who care about her? Six years are enough to understand that Alethaine Ancunin is anything but an adventurer.  

 Someone who is dumb enough to spend two months in a cell for insulting a cleric? Yes. A misfortunate bodyguard who got her client murdered? No doubt. A chronically unemployed dark witch? Absolutely.

But not an adventurer.

“Kill the fucking bard, I am tired of him!” Alethaine hears a drunk male voice.

“Yes. Theris, I told you l would turn you inside out if you come back!” the second voice adds.

“Please, my beloved townsfolk! I am just a traveling bard, performing innocent songs!” The third voice sounds androgynous. “Maybe I could sing something more to your liking?”

“Yes! We would love to hear you sing from pain! You horny asshole”

“Oh, please, your sister jumped on me herself! I couldn’t say “no” to such a lovely creature!”

Not your business, Alethaine, she tells herself but curiosity definitely killed the dhampir, and she looks behind the corner.

A young tiefling with violet skin is holding his lute as if it was a shield as two drunk fools corner him with a very clear intent to beat the shit out of him. One of them is red-haired, and the other is missing an eye.

Theris the Bard tries to keep his cool but his tail betrays his fear. 

Alethaine senses something weird about him. No, it can’t be.

Surely, Alethaine knows she isn’t alone. Her parents released 7000 vampires into the Underdark forty-five years ago, twenty years before her birth. There must be a lot of dhampirs in Faerun.

But she has never met any of them. Until now.

Theris catches her scent and stares in shocked disbelief. 

“Hey, leave him alone!” Alethaine drops her sack, ready to cast a spell. 

“Oh, what a pathetic picture! An elven maiden comes to rescue a bard from their demise!”

“Listen, I hate bards,” Alethaine says and Theris casts a betrayed glance at her. “Honestly, if it was in my power, I would hang them all at the crossroads. Especially the ones who can’t keep their trousers laced. But this… tiefling… happens to be my… relative of a sort… And I would like you to let him go.”

The men exchanged glances. The one-eyed one comes close to Alethaine and she can see he doesn’t have front teeth and his lower canines are rotten. 

“You are a lovely creature, elf. Have you ever received proper care from a real human man? My brother and I are very experienced”.

Using the dagger might be dangerous, Alethaine thinks. She doesn't want to be imprisoned again - and she might be very well hanged for murdering two people. As for the fangs, the men will tell everyone she is a vampire and then she will be staked or burned. 

Alethaine raises her right hand, feeling the concentration of dark magic on the tips of her fingers.

“HOLD!”

The man freezes, unable to move. There is fear in his drunk eyes.

“Hey, what are you waiting for? Drag her inside!” his brother punches the tiefling and steps on his lute. The instrument breaks in two. Theris makes a painful sound like his bones have been broken

Alethaine straightens her back and raises her left hand.

“What is your biggest fear?” she whispers as the second spell is cast on the drunk man.

And then he screams.

“THEY ARE IN MY SKIN! THE WORMS ARE IN MY SKIN! BURN ME! BURN ME!” 

If he wasn’t paralyzed, he would try to get to the closest torch to set himself on fire, but he is bound by two spells and can’t move. 

His brother suddenly realizes something is off and lets the bard go.

“What the fuck wrong with you?” he quivers.

“Everything is fucking wrong with me!” Alethaine laughs. “First l will kill you, and then I will raise you up to carry books for me all around Faerun until I get tired of you! And if you ever tell anyone about me, I will find you and turn you inside out!”

The spells wear off and the one-eyed man collapses on the ground whimpering like a beaten dog. The red-haired man helps him to stand up and they both disappear into the dark.

“Fuck, my lute. What’s a bard without a lute,” Theris stands on his feet. “I am Theris. And you are Alethaine, I’ve heard your conversation with the innkeeper. The bitch hates everyone who isn’t an elf.”

Alethaine stares at the young man. His violet skin is pale as if he had been dead for a few hours. The dhampir fangs are almost indistinguishable from the tiefling ones and his eyes have a natural red color.

“Never seen another dhampir?”

“No! You are the first!”

“Lucky you. I wish I'd never met any of our kind. But alas we never get what we want.”

“But why? What’s wrong with other dhampirs?”

“Everything! We are solitary predators, once we are stuck together in one place, we are fucked!”

Alethaine points at the lute and the bruises. “It seems like you are fucked either way.”

“Can’t deny it. So, Alethaine, what brought you to the City of Splendors?”

“I am looking for work. And to spend a night somewhere.”

Theris scratches his forehead. “There is too much competition among the adventurers. Bad choice. Well, thank you for saving me, I wish I could pay you but since my working instrument is broken I can only offer my gratitude.”

Theris turns away. Alethaine senses something she’s never felt before. It is a feeling of belonging. Sharing the journey and adventures with someone similar to her. 

“Wait! Maybe we could look for something together?” 

“Not interested!” But the tiefling’s tail betrays his thoughts.

“Your tail disagrees”

“Fuck. Bad tail!” Theris bares his fangs. “Oh, fine! It’s nice to meet … someone of my kind… And who isn’t Ulsha.”

“Who is Ulsha?” Alethaine can’t believe her luck. There is one more dhampir around? If she had known, she would have come to Waterdeep years earlier!

Theris hisses. “Oh, Ulsha is a delight! Six feet of anger and angst! So devoted to her blasted Morninglord she forgets her profane origin!”

“But you are friends with her, aren’t you?”

“Oh no, we are sworn enemies. She wants me dead, I want her to come to her senses. And she also killed my fey-dust dealer. The dude gave me stuff almost for free and Ulsha ended him like some vermin. I am still brooding about it!”

The weather is getting worse and the autumn winds start howling like hungry wolves. Alethaine wishes nothing more than a warm bed near the fire. Theris shuts up as if thinking about something.

“I got it! Alethaine, you look much more decent than I do! Well, you still look like a person no one should trust…”

“Careful, tiefling, I might forget about our blood ties and break your horns like they broke your lute!”

“... But Ulsha doesn’t know you and she has this awful paladin trait of assuming the best of strangers. We and Black Death really need a warm place tonight as well.”

“Black Death?”

Theris puts his hand behind his shirt and snatches a small ball of white fur. The ball yawns and pierces Alethaine with two ruby eyes.

“A weird name for a pet rat,” she says.

“Hush, Alethaine, he is very sensitive.”

Alethaine feels an unstoppable desire to pat the rat. She’s wanted to have her own pet for all her life, even tried to foster a kitten back when she was ten. But mortal animals fear her, they sense her undead origin. Horses buckle up in her presence, dogs howl, cats run away.

But the rat is so peaceful in Theris’s hands Alethaine dares to touch it.

Black Death winces but doesn’t run away.

“Hm, he likes you. And he has a very good taste in strangers. Ok, let’s melt that paladin’s cold heart!”

It takes them almost an hour to reach a small tavern almost at the city walls. Alethaine is soaking wet and Theris is no better. 

“Are you sure she is here?” Alethaine asks. The tavern looks abandoned. 

“She is always here. Looking for the poor and miserable and helping them not to fall into the wrong hands. Ulsha! Ulsha, bless us with your divine presence!”

“Get lost, fiend!” someone roars from the inside. “And whoever you brought with you!”

The door opens wide and Ulsha steps outside. 

A tall and muscled half-orc woman in a full paladin outfit leans on her two-handed sword as if posing for a sculptor. The sign of Lathander shines on her chest like a small sun.

“Ulsha, would you be so kind as to let us in so we could talk? Have mercy on your cousin!” Theris makes a pleading look but Ulsha has none of this.

"Cousin my ass, Theris! I have no desire to be relatives with someone who can't keep their cock away from people!"

"It was all consensual!"

Ulsha bares her fangs, which, accompanied by orcish teeth, make her look like a wild bear.

"I don’t want you and bullshit and your… fairy friend at my place"

Fairy friend? Well, it seems like racial hatred between half-orcs and elves goes far beyond mutual dhampirism.

"Wait, you can't be angry that a bard was a being bard! Maybe we can…" Alethaine tries to find the right words not to make Ulsha angrier than she already is. "Re-pay the damage?"

Theris suspiciously looks at the necromancer and then turns his eyes to Ulsha.

"In my defense, I didn't kill anyone! Did you?"

"I am not answering this question." Alethaine crosses her hands.

"GET OUT!" Ulsha slams the door, leaving the dhampirs outside.

“Urgh, I hate her” Theris spits. “I wonder how the fuck she survived her childhood in the Underdark!”

“She is from the Underdark?” Alethaine asks with a shock. “My condolences,” she adds loud enough for the dhampir to hear.

“Yep. Ran away when she was fourteen, got to the surface at sunrise, and gave an oath to never return back. I mean, there are very few dhampirs who are from below there. It seems like the underground tunnels definitely affect fertility. This one is just the worst!”

The door opens again. Ulsha looks disgruntled. 

“I don't need your pity, elf. Or whatever you call yourself…”

“I’d prefer Alethaine, thank you very much.”

Ulsha sighs. “Forgive me, Morninglord. Here is some work for you. If you do it successfully, you are free to stay with me or with the quest giver. He is a kind man. Now, go!”

Ulsha tosses a scroll to Alethaine. Catching the scroll, the elf reads it aloud.

“A cat is missing. Last time seen at Mistshore. Return to Gale of Waterdeep.”

Gale of Waterdeep… If the wizard is truly the one her parents told her about… And if this is THE wizard her mother once saved from offing himself…

"Theris, we have a very rewarding job for tonight!”

--

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary @darkarchangel96 @locallegume @brainfullofhotsauce @coffeeanddonutscafe 

[anonameisadditions]

So You Want To Write #1 : The Amazing Digital Circus

In my work with the ever-impressionable and quick learning @mikiib, We often end up working with a particular dynamic on her creative projects, ranging from fanfiction to self-started fiction like our ongoing comic series, PARANOiD. She's a great artist, mind you- I wouldn't work with her if she wasn't- But our lives were spent very differently before we met; She chose a life of drawing, I chose a life of reading.

In this, I'm frequently put into the position of helping her make writing "sing" in the tune of what genre or media property she's drawing from. One of my many talents is my ability to quickly deconstruct and recognize the various influences a writer has taken from in a body of work, and The Amazing Digital Circus is one that I find a lot of people seem to misunderstand it's roots, and the kind of stories it's drawing from. To this, much-despised reader, I come to help, to scream from my digital soapbox the advice I would have needed a decade ago to write something properly.

THE AMAZING DIGITAL CIRCUS: Mr. Elison needs to stop watching PBS

Most casual fans of the Amazing Digital Circus would know that the Harlan Ellison short story "I Have No Mouth And Must Scream" is the conceptual well that ADC draws from. It's one hell of a starting point- for those unfamiliar, a brief recap- The last 5 humans on Earth are tortured and controlled by the A.I Singularity known as A.M, the maniacal, suicidally minded A.I. who, in realization of the inherent trappings of the microchip in his existence, chose to exert his frustrations on the global earth as a whole, leaving only these 5 to torment for the rest of existence as punishment for the sins of mankind.

... Quite a different story on the surface than ADC, no? But to engage with Mouth a surface-level retelling of events deprives the story of it's wit and candor. Harlan, as a writer, is a reader's antagonist- and his contempt for the people who read his stories is palpable.

Harlan professes, in this interview, an anger towards the concept of self-reverence- the idea that he, himself, is any more significant on this unholy thing we call "earth" than another person. Thus, he reacts to fans by despising them when they reject his jocular, irreverent sense of self as some kind of personal attack. This shows in his writing, if you consider how he views his typical set of characters. In "Big Sam Was My Best Friend", the titular Big Sam, a likable, if reserved teleporter in the far future of space travel is revealed to be a lout, a creep- A man who, when gifted the ability to teleport vast distances unbounded by energy or time, chose to spend his existence chasing a woman who hated him. In "Pretty Maggie Moneyeyes", we have Koster and Maggie: One a down-on-his-luck, pathetic idiot representing the average Vegas coin slot jockey, and the other, Maggie, a rage-filled prostitute who regularly John's for a sleazy mafia boss.

The marking of the Elison school of writing is to defy the status quo expectation of morality winning. Here, the characters are tragic figures driven by their own incompetence and lack of self-awareness- They continuously battle themselves, refusing the luxury and peace of the ordinary to try to shape reality to their will, and every time, reality bites back.

But what does this have to do with The Amazing Digital Circus?

HELL IS OTHER PEOPLE

In the pilot of Amazing Digital Circus, we get to know our selection of trapped souls with a unique lens of understanding that Pomni does not get- For her, these characters of the "Show" of the Amazing Digital Circus (I mean this in a meta sense- More on this later.) are strangers, who's cascading complexities will surely open up with time. But for us, the viewer, we exist beyond the 4th wall- We know we are watching a virtual play, in a sense, where we can expect that there is no dramatic spiritual transition in store for anyone- that whatever we discover will be building on the foundation of each archetype.

But what's unique to both Digital Circus and No Mouth is the reality that these characters know each other quite well- Too well, in fact. They have been trapped together for an unknowable amount of time- and with this knowledge, Pomni is played as the foolish interloper for expecting any more or better from each character.

In a "normal" show, Jax should learn a lesson from the Candy Castle plotline in the first real episode of the show. But in the Digital Circus, Jax CAN'T learn a lesson- because he's done this stupid song and dance a million times, and his reputation precedes him in the eyes of the rest of the circus. He is trapped, figuratively and literally, in his character- He is the cunty rabbit, in and out, because frankly, his own identity might be the only thing keeping him sane.

This is not to say Jax's character cannot change and develop in the space of the canon of the show, or in your own fanfiction writings- far from it- but you need to approach these characters with an understanding that they have been this way for a long, long time- much in the same way that the various psychotic behaviors of the trapped survivors in A.M. have been the same way for a long time, too. To maintain this status quo- this character's "stickiness" as a coping mechanism - is how the soul of Elison sticks through the Digital Circus.

Wait, a stuck Status Quo, with weekly adventures that, at this point, largely don't seem to affect the behavior on a weekly basis for most of the characters, in a bright and shiny animated environment? This sounds kind of like...

A Saturday morning kid's show.

No, Really: Hell IS other people.

This is the missing component people seem to miss about the Amazing Digital Circus- Its aesthetic, its connecting theme, its horror- it's all based on the simple, ironclad premise of a children's show.

Think about it. "People get stuck in a virtual world to solve problems each week meant to help teach them social and practical life skills" is a motif used in a variety of 2000's era CGI animated shows that would air on PBS and (Canadian Broadcast Cartoons). This is "ReBoot". This is "Jay Jay The Jet Plane". This is "Jane and The Dragon". The soft, pliable, safe consequenceless world of the Children's Cartoon is the A.M. Digital World that Caine has his "players" trapped in, much to their chagrin.

At first, this doesn't seem too bad- It's safe, for one. It's remarkably easy to exist in, for another- Food isn't an issue, beyond a simplistic pleasure behavior. There's no bathrooms, no need to sleep- nothing. But in this, the true hell arrives. Week after week, month after month, you continue to participate in "Games" meant to serve the same moral lessons you've heard a million times at this point, as the only break to the skull-fucking monotony of an existence trapped in a consequenceless space where nothing you say or do changes the reality around you. You are stuck in a padded room- where you cannot touch yourself, or others, or the world around you in a meaningful way. It is a gilded cage, that seeks to patronize you and break down your mentality to the point of acting like a monocentric character archetype for the education and entertainment of a captive audience of 12-year-olds with nothing better to do.

You can see how this changes a person's priorities, fast. In this, our Circus members choose to find relief in the only ways they can- with one another, in the only thing that CAN change- their feelings towards one another.

JAX becomes the cunty rabbit he is, because vexing his fellow players is at least some form of change and control for him that makes him feel empowered. Zooble refuses to participate, as their ennui and rejection of the concept of the show enables them to, at the very least, take a stance against Caine, their captor. Ragatha tries to remain optimistic and make the best of the bad situation, as maintaining a positive attitude lets her at least pretend she's making a difference. Kinger's cracked behavior of madness is him attempting to find meaning and test the boundaries of his own existence, as the oldest member of the Circus, in a attempt to break the tedium for himself. And Gangle is reacting with a massive victim complex- She makes herself out to be a pathetic, weak, spineless creature because she can't conceive of this reality being one she has to exist actively in, for she finds the whole effort futile.

Where does this place Pomni? Well, it's a search for her own meaning in the space of the Circus. She is still an "open character", meant to play the role of the Audience's fool- And the drama comes from us wondering whether she'll sink, or swim.

SO YOU WANT TO WRITE THE AMAZING DIGITAL CIRCUS

This is the soul of the show, distilled to a fine, thin gruel- If you want to make your fiction "Sound" Like The Amazing Digital Circus, you need to marry two concepts together- The horrific behaviors of Harlan Elison's characters in their efforts to deal with the ways life has personally screwed them, and the soul-sucking mundanity of the weekly format of the children's television serial. You present the cast with an adventure each week, one that is definitely below their intended age level, and let them react to it with their individualized efforts to escape the mundanity of the circumstances, in their own way- Jax tries to make everything worse, Ragatha tries to play along, and Pomni is still freshly experiencing everything for the first time.

This is not to say you can't do MORE with these characters and the base premise- @hootbon does an excellent job recontextualizing the idea of weekly "shows" with the circumstances of the abusive ringleader of a 1950s-styled circus. But they seem to understand the narrative underpinnings of the TADC in this rewritten examination; The cast is chained to the premise, and can only act within the dimensions of said premise- and what they do with those circumstances defines them as a person.

If you liked this blogpost, Give it a reblog and a like, and don't forget to follow me for more media analysis and creative endeavors. Below, you can vote on the focus of my next entry in "So You Want To Write" series. 

~ Yours Fallaciously, AN0N

[aeoris4lovers]

i think by the time we get to see them, astrid and eadwulf’s relationship has gone from being romantic to completely defying any labels other than “extremely fucking close”.

they’re platonic soulmates. they’re an old married couple. they’re friends with benefits. they’re partners in crime. they’re two sides of the same coin, two halves of the same person. they know more about each other than most people know about themselves. they’re so in sync that they finish each other’s sentences and predict each other’s actions without even trying. they have the kind of sixth sense for when the other is hurt or upset that people say twins do. they can have a whole conversation just with looks. they’re incapable of doing anything without thinking of what the other would say. they trust each other implicitly. they talk about each other like puppylove crushes. they talk about each other like siblings that understand each other a little too well to hate each other. they live in separate houses but spend most of their days together in one or the other. they’re perpetually fighting over some ridiculous disagreement. when they’re hurt or sick or scared, they cry out for each other instinctively like children do to their parents. they would know each other’s footsteps or breathing or hands in the dark. they could sculpt every inch of each other from memory, in painstaking detail. they know how to hurt each other better than anyone else. they know how to make each other smile or laugh better than anyone else. they would kill for each other in an instant, no hesitation and no questions asked. if one of them died, the other would kill everyone who let it happen and then drop dead beside them. they had each other when they had nothing else. they’re everything to each other. they wouldn’t know the first thing about how to live without each other. when it comes down to it, it’s always them against the world. always has been and always will be, no matter what. they are each other’s person, in the deepest and truest sense of the word.

is it healthy? probably not, but it keeps them alive, and you’d have to have a death wish to try and take it from them.

and if you ask them what they are to each other? it’s just, “that’s my best friend.” what else could they possibly say?

[mesillusionssousecstasy]

House of the Dragon 2x02: Quotes

"- And where were the members of this council while the murderer threatened their king? And where were you, the Lord Commander of my Kingsguard? (Aegon II) - I was abed, Your Grace, having ordered the Night's Watch. (Ser Cole) - Abed. Abed! Instead of safeguarding the sanctity of my family. (Aegon II) - This is not the time for blind accusations, Your Grace." (Otto) "- I will not be seen as weak. (Ageon II) - You're already seen as weak, Aegon. Let no one say I do not grieve. Jaehaerys was my grandson. I loved him. I will not have him die in vain. Jaehaerys will do more for us now than a thousand knights in battle. (Otto) - No, I do not wish to be a spectacle. (Alicent) - The realm must see the sorrow of the crown, a sorrow best expressed through its most gentle souls." (Otto)

"- Sometimes, we have to pretend. (Alicent) - Why? (Helaena) - We are representatives of the throne. We have a duty. Helaena, what you saw last night when you came to my room... (Alicent) - This is for my boy." (Helaena)

"- Are you gonna hurt me? (Blood) - No, but I cannot vouch for His Grace." (Larys)

"- There will be swift retribution in one form or another... It must be said that the damage to our position is immeasurable, at a time when we most need loyalty to our cause. (White Kight) - But it's a lie. Having lost my own son, that I would inflict such a thing on Helaena, of all people, an innocent. (Rhaenyra) - The death of Prince Lucerys was a shock and an insult. A mother so aggrieved might, naturally, seek relief in retribution. (Alfred Broome) - Are you suggesting, Ser Alfred, that my grief drove me to order the decapitation of a child? (Rhaenyra) - I merely thought, perhaps, an action taken in hast. (Ser Alfred) - Mind yourself. (Rhaenys) - Did you send assassins to murder children in their beds?" (Rhaenyra)

"- My father? (Baela) - He must follow his own path." (Rhaenyra)

"- Have you told anyone? (Alicent) - What do you take me for? (Ser Cole) - One who seeks absolution. (Alicent) - There is none for what I've done." (Ser Cole)

"- You defy my authority, Ser Arryk. (Ser Cole) - I do not. (Ser Arryk) - The white cloak is a symbol of our purity... our fidelity. Kingsguard are a sacred trust. Will you so easily sully our ancient honor? (Ser Cole) - I have erred, my lord. I'll remedy the error. (Ser Arryk) - Where were you when Jaehaerys was murdered? (Ser Cole) - With King Aegon. (Ser Arryk) - And you were not in the private quarters where you might have prevented the crime. (Ser Cole) - His Grace wished to entertain his companions in the throne room. (Ser Arryk) - But if you had thought to go upstairs... (Ser Cole) - Where were you Lord Commander? And why has Helaena the queen been granted no sworn protector? Surely once she ascended, she.. (Ser Arryk) - Your brother is a thief and a traitor to the crown! (Ser Cole) - You well know how it pains me. (Ser Arryk) - How are we to know that you do not secretly share his sentiments? (Ser Cole) - I denounced him before the king. We were one soul in two bodies, yes. If I'd shared his sentiments, I would've fled with him. (Ser Arryk) - First, your brother betrays us. And then the young prince... is murdered... on your watch. You are mad, Ser. (Ser Cole) - Mad! You cannot think that I did this! (Ser Arryk) - What I think has no relevance! You have brought disgrace upon our ranks... and now you must restore it. (Ser Cole) - How am I to do that? (Ser Arryk) - You will go to Dragonstone and strike down Rhaenyra in her own halls. The way she sought to do with Aemond. We will pay the princess back in her own bloody coin. (Ser Cole) - Alone? (Ser Arryk) - Does your courage fail you, Ser Arryk? (Ser Cole) - It's not a matter of courage. The castle is defended against all enemies, now especially. How would I enter? (Ser Arryk) - Your twin serves there at the pleasure of the so-called queen. They will mistake your for him if you play the part. (Ser Cole) - We are sworn to serve forthrightly, not to traffic in deception. (Ser Arryk) - Put down the pretender and you will end a war before it begins. (Ser Cole) - If they see the two of us... (Ser Arryk) - You must not let that happen. (Ser Cole) - You would send me to my death. (Ser Arryk) - Or to triumph. And glory. Now, will you go? Or must I question your loyalty to the King? (Ser Cole) - As you command, my lord." (Ser Arryk)

"- You missed supper. (Baela) - I wasn't hungry. (Jacaerys) - I don't think anyone was, really. Too many empty seats. (Baela) - Do you know where he went? (Jacaerys) - Harrenhal, I would think. Sometimes I think I hate him. (Baela) - It's hard... with fathers. (Jacaerys) - What do you remember of my uncle? (Baela) - He taught us to catch fish.. and sing sailors' shanties. He had a weakness for cake. (Jacaerys) - And... Ser Harwin Strong? (Baela) - He was gentle, and fierce. They called him "Breakbones". He loved us.. I think. (Jacaerys) - Of course, he did. (Baela) - I miss Luke." (Jacaerys)

"- Daemon sent them to kill me. I was out. (Aemond) - You were with me. (Madam Sylvi, the whore) - In truth, I am proud... that he considers me such a foe. And that he seeks to murder me in my bed. He's afraid of me. (Aemond) - As well he should be. The boy is grown into a man. (Madam Sylvi, the whore) - Mm. No. Not here. I do regret that business with Luke. I lost my temper that day. I am sorry for it. (Aemond) - I am glad to hear it. (Madam Sylvi, the whore) - They used to tease me, you know? Because I was different. (Aemond) - I would remind you only that when princes lose their temper, it is often others who suffer. The smallfolk... like me." (Madam Sylvi, the whore)

"- The markets have been running low since the blockade. Surely the city cannot yet be short of food. (Hugh) - I think not, but people are afraid. Those with means are hoarding everything they can. (His wife) - The selfishness of people. (Hugh) - I cannot blame anyone for doing what I myself would do if I could. (His wife) - I don't think you'd let children go hungry while you filled your own cellars. (Hugh) - Lucky we don't have enough coin to find out. (His wife) - The king has promised us some relief. (Hugh) - Did he say when? I'm afraid, Hugh." (His wife)

"- To serve with the Sea Snake is to make your fortune. Had I such a chance, I would leap at it. (Addam) - That's because you haven't seen what I've seen. There is a war brewing, Addam. A real one. (His brother) - Another opportunity to distinguish yourself. Remind him of your worth. (Addam) - Oh, I need no favors. (His brother) - But, brother, he owes you, he owes us." (Addam)

"- I mistrust this silence. Daemon flies when we most need his hand at the oar. (Corlys) - Devotion has never sat well with him. Where he goes, he wishes to be his own master. (Rhaenys) - Well, he is the king consort. (Corlys) - But he is not the king. (Rhaenys) - Neither am I, but I manage. (Corlys) - I too have felt the crown pass over me. It is a hard thing to accept. And now Viserys is dead and all claims are in doubt. (Rhaenys) - You do not think... Daemon will challenge her? (Corlys) - Not as such. But neither can he allow her to command him. (Rhaenys) - Pity. I have, on occasion found to be... quite enjoyable. (Corlys) - Let us take him at his word. If he can take Harrenhal, all may well be forgiven. In the meantime, I am here. And Meleys. We will not let the queen falter." (Rhaenys)

"- You're aware of yesterday's events in King's Landing? (Rhaenyra) - I am. (Mysaria) - Tell me what part you played in their unfolding. (Rhaenyra) - I had nothing to do with it. (Mysaria) - I know you are entwined with the usurpers, that you aided them in denying me my birthright. (Rhaenyra) - I took profits from an inevitability. I regret it now. (Mysaria) - I'm sure you do. Who are you? (Rhaenyra) - A prisoner. I gave Daemon two names. That is the extent of it. And I did not wish to do that much. He said it was the price of my freedom. Does he say otherwise? (Mysaria) - He is gone. (Rhaenyra) - For how long? (Mysaria) - A week, or forever I do not know. (Rhaenyra) - He does do that doesn't he? You remember me now. (Mysaria) - He said he would marry you. He said you carried his child. (Rhaenyra) - Not everyone found the jest funny. And now it seems, he's done it again, made a promise and then slipped away. (Mysaria) - You trade in the secrets of the Red Keep. Your web runs unseen through King's Landing. And now... when my enemy coils himself to strike at me... (Rhaenyra) - I can do nothing now but ask you to honor your husband's words. (Mysaria) - It would not serve me to set you free. At best, I lose an asset to my cause. At worst, you betray me in some foul way. (Rhaenyra) - I have no interest in betraying you, Your Grace. (Mysaria) - So you say. (Rhaenyra) - I was brought to Westeros with nothing. I toiled in service, I stole. I sold my own body for coin or bread. And I listened. I collected confidences. I made myself valuable to powerful men. Bit by bit, I earned my living. A house, a household, a home. Then they set it all aflame. (Mysaria) - Who did? (Rhaenyra) - The Hightowers, I can only assume. The Hand... did not like it when I showed my teeth. But I thank him for it. For too long, I made it my aim to be of consequence. But now, I see that was the wish of a child. Daemon. Otto Hightower. Makes no difference. They will never accept me. I might as well have remained a whore. (Mysaria) - How did you get that scar?" (Rhaenyra)

"- Who are they? - Ratcatchers in the king's employ. - What'd they do?"

"- What have you done? The ratcatchers! (Otto) - Oh... I had them hanged. The maggot who took my son confessed to an accomplice. He could not say for certain which man it was, so. (Aegon II) - Idiot! (Otto) - Beware how you speak to your king, my lord. (Ser Cole) - The king is my grandson and my grandson is a fool! He's worse than a fool! He's murdered innocent men! (Otto) - And one guilty one. (Aegon II) - And hanged them from the walls of the city for all to see! (Otto) - Plot against the king, and I will pay it back a hun... (Aegon II) - They are fathers and brothers and sons! And their wives and children gather now at our gates to weep and curse your name! With your child's blood, we bought their approval. With your mother's tears, we made a bitter sacrifice against the deprivations to come. And you've thrown it away. After all I've done for you. Thoughtless, feckless... self-indulgent. (Otto) - At least I did something. I have not answered injury to the crown with, what? Wailing and currying favor with fishwives? I will not be thought weak. Even now, news of Rhaenyra's monstrous crime spreads through the realm. The great houses falter. They cannot but come to our side. I wish to spill blood, not ink! We must act. Ser Criston Cole has acted. (Aegon II) - And what... has Ser Criston Cole done? (Otto) - He has sent Ser Arryk to slay Rhaenyra. (Aegon II) - Alone? (Otto) - He's pretending to be his own twin. Brilliant. (Aegon II) - Gods help us all. (Otto) - It's time the bitch queen paid a price. (Ser Cole) - And you acceded to this, this prank without consulting me or the council? Instead of judgment, you display impetuousness, and diminish us in the eyes of our enemy. Ill-considered, trifling! Do you never think of your father? His... forbearance, his... judiciousness, his.. dignity. (Otto) - Fuck dignity! I want revenge. My father is dead. (Ageon II) - He is. And we are the poorer for it. He was right about you. (Otto) - He made me king. (Aegon II) - Is that what you think? (Otto) - Remove your badge, Ser Otto. You were my father's Hand. Not mine. Take it off. (Aegon II) - You wouldn't dare. (Otto) - I have dared.... and I find it stimulating. (Aegon II) - Insolent pup. You think yourself clever, but without a strong hand at your side... to guide? (Otto) - Give it to Cole. (Aegon II) - Your Grace? (Ser Cole) - In this hour, you have proven yourself of more worth than a hundred old men. My new hand will be a steel fist. (Aegon II) - You will regret this. (Otto) - Give it to him. You are dismissed." (Aegon II)

"- I do not know if I trust you. And I sense that there is danger in you yet. But I will keep the word of my house if you say that it was given. You may go. (Rhaenyra) - Your Grace. (Mysaria) - I will see that you are given passage. I'm not so unworldly as to let you fly free. (Rhaenyra) - Thank you. (Mysaria) - Ser Erryk, Mysaria will be leaving us. Let her collect her things. Then have someone take her down and secure her berth on the "Corwyn"." (Rhaenyra)

"- Ser Erryk... I thought you were within. (Guard) - A sorry lack of vigilance. The enemy is about, good ser." (Ser Arryk)

"- Ser Erryk. (White cloak) - It's been a strange day. I'm restless I will stand this evening's duty." (Ser Arryk)

"- You must sleep tonight, Your Grace. Let me ask the maester for a draught. (Elinda) - Perhaps that would be best." (Rhaenyra)

"- Do not do this. I beg you. (Ser Erryk) - You were the one who betrayed us, Erryk. (Ser Arryk) - We were born together. (Ser Erryk) - You parted us! But I still love you, brother. (Ser Arryk) - Your Grace. (Ser Erryk) - Erryk. (Rhaenyra) - Forgive me." (Ser Erryk)

"- It is ignorance and vanity. You know as well as I do that Aegon must be kept in check. As does Ser Criston. The two of them together... (Otto) - Ser Criston is not temperate... but his devotion cannot be questioned. If it does come to war.. (Alicent) - He's ensured it. (Otto) - He's young and unschooled. His faith is in steel and bone. (Alicent) - He has not the long view. None of them do. They wish now not for the good of the realm, but for the petty satisfaction of vengeance. (Otto) - Aegon is still malleable. It is the death of the child that has unstrung him. (Alicent) - I can't stay here. Exiled from the council. Witness to the blundering of our plans. I'll return to Oldtown. The Hightowers are still strong, and you have a son there who will take more kindly to instruction. Daeron may yet help us in weeks to come. (Otto) - Go rather to highgarden. The Tyrells must be taken in hand. Their bannermen are wavering. While you're gone, I'll speak sense to him. His blood will cool. In time, you may yet return. (Alicent) - The young are peacocks.. all shrieking and feathers. (Otto) - But we will yet prevail and bring forth peace, I still believe it. As long as you and I hold fast. (Alicent) - I have sinned. (Alicent) - I do not wish to hear of it." (Otto)

[valoisfulcanellideux]

The Greatbridge in its heyday

We all know it as this beautiful creation:

But I wanted to write about how it might have been in its heyday, when the Ancient Capital was alive and thronging with people. And so I did...

From These Stones Remember (ch.22) -

The great wooden gates lay up ahead, and beyond them he could see a bustle already arising. Carts rumbled past him, laden with wares, donkeys and llamas similarly packed with goods passed by more noisily. And, as he walked through the gates, the whole of the Greatbridge lay before him. Flanking the whole length of it, as far as he could see, stalls and stands were already set up and in the process of being stocked. Banners and pennants danced in the river breeze that also brought the scents of spices and incense smokes to him. Baskets and crates and sacks, fruits and grains and vegetables, the hot floury smell of flatbread baking in ovens, the mouth-watering sizzle of sides of pork turning over hot coals that nosed down from the far end of the bridge, the chatter and laughter of haggling already underway. To his left, a large balloon that floated in the air, tied down with rope. Occasional bursts of flame upwards into the stiffened cloth sphere made it rise to the limits of the rope, as well as the heavy net slung across the top of the sphere. Below it there hung a large square basket, from which burly men wearing brown leather breeches and white shirts handed down large crates to their colleagues on the ladder below, who cracked them open and set out their contents on tables and boxes. Stacks of books, both plain and with magical sheen, piled between shining ingots of pure iron. To his right, a great chirping, flapping, and squawking as a man and woman took birdcages from a small cart pulled by a third, hanging them beneath a joyously bright statue of a parrot. Two small children stood close by, hand-in-hand, watching and giggling. Beneath bright awnings, cooking oils by the jug and dried fruits by the waxen bag, seeds by the pouch for planting, buttons by the cone and ribbons by the measure of thumb to elbow. Beneath the llama statue, women crowded to haggle for the best and brightest from water-filled buckets of colourful flowers. Moving through the bustling crowd, delights at every turn, Paix gloried in the beauty and heart of humanity that thronged this place. Hawkers cried their wares, flattered and wheedled and flirted with their customers for another sale, jugglers and tumbling acrobats somehow managed to keep both a space about them and an entertained audience distracted before them. Devotees sang and sold wine and sugar beneath a floating quartz cupola that defied both gravity and sensibility. A redstone trickster held a small gaggle of onlookers rapt while his light-fingered accomplice relieved their pockets of coin. Mummers performed a comedic play, drawing roars of laughter from those crowded around their antics. Paix was offered samples of wine by the singing devotees, juicy hunks of roasted pork by odd little squat folk whose cloak hoods flared widely on either side of their heads and who tried to press him for an additional purchase of copper ingots, giggling when he demurred since he had nothing with which to pay them. More wine, followed by a hand thrusting a crescent-shaped meat pie toward him with a broad grin and a bellowed word that was lost amid the general clamour on the Greatbridge.

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

Ready to rec some awesome fics that I read this month!! Feel free to add on with some of your own Bagginshield recs. 😁

January 2024 Rec List

T Rated:

Beyond the Pixels by Ticklesivory (Complete, 15K, 1ch.)- This is one of my new favorite AUs! Living in a post-apocalyptic world, Bilbo and Thorin meet in a virtual reality game that will change their lives. All the world building and lore of this AU is laid out beautifully, and I would love to read more building on Thorin and Bilbo's relationship.

Customer Service 101 by BiSquared (Complete, 4K, 1ch.)- I really enjoyed Thorin being the one working at the book store for a change. Thorin is working when he spies a cute guy who asks for his help escaping from a stalker. Honestly, its a lot cuter and more light-hearted than I summarized.

Defying Death (or at least the ones in charge) by Lucigoo89 (Complete, 15K, 1ch.)- I enjoyed the humor and emotion of this fic greatly. After his death, Bilbo refuses to move on until he reunites with his dwarven family. The level of sass coming off Bilbo in this fic is off the charts, and I love it!

The Gift of Hobbits by MoroseBarnacle (WIP, 22K, 5ch.)- Magical hobbits are one of my favorites! Bilbo has the power to bring people back from the dead and uses it regularly to revive his friends on the quest. I just love how they rally around their hobbit even before they found out what he could do. Found family wins.

Invisible vs. Indivisible by Moirai (Complete, 52K, 11ch.)- This was an indulgent re-read for me. Bilbo is captured by orcs but gets away using the ring only to discover his companions think him dead, and he can't find it in himself to make the reveal just yet. I always wished for a sequel to this, but it does end in a place that makes it enjoyable to imagine what happened on the rest of the quest.

Lord of Bones by Porphyrios (Complete, 6K, 1ch.)- This is one of those fics that you wonder how that much world building was packed into that one-shot. Due to an outdated dwarven law, the restoration crews are having trouble moving the bones of the dead dwarves which is where Bilbo comes in being that he's not a dwarf. Porphyrios does such an amazing job with dwarven politics and this is a sweet fic even with an atmosphere of sadness.

Spoonful of Sugar by RainyDayDecaf (Complete, 29K, 4ch.)- I have been looking for this fic for SO LONG! Without giving too much away, a prank Bilbo had pulled on Thranduil when they were still prisoners might be the secret to curing Thorin's goldsickness. This is just one of those fics that is so fun to read from beginning to end.

M Rated:

Backs to the Wall by Conkers (WIP, 62K, 13ch.)- I held off on this fic for a long time, not because I was worried I wasn't going to enjoy it, but because I knew how much it would have me foaming at the mouth. Missing the deadline, the Company splits up at Laketown with Thorin, Dwalin, Nori, and Bilbo remaining to earn some coin. I'm beside myself with the gentle, sweet moments of pre-Bagginshield that have me screaming.

The Kitchen Thief by mordelle (WIP, 44K, 17ch.)- This such a unique AU. Thorin is a baker who catches the thief stealing from him to discover that he's a hobbit and his One. There are so many great things about this fic but the 'nutty baker' line will always be my favorite.

Less Than the Best by Sullen_in_Love (Complete, 8K, 1ch.)- YES to all my favorite tropes. Thorin needs to find a dwarrowdam to marry and Bilbo takes over the interviews only to learn something horrifying: they all find Thorin ugly. Honestly, I'm so glad I clicked on this fic because it was a really enjoyable read.

E Rated:

Below the Belt by LordOfTheRazzles (Complete, 6K, 1ch.)- I hope everyone knows by now that Razzy and I talk, so I knew the gist of the fic before even opening it. Thorin needs help taking care of his injuries and so Bilbo helps him. However, the execution in this fic was just perfect. It's one of my new favorites for 'this scene'.

The Danger in Missing You by Fantasyinallforms (Complete, 5K, 1ch.)- In the best way possible, I forgot this was a smut fic. Bilbo is determined to help during a cave-in, distressing his friends and later, Thorin. Bilbo's actions at the beginning to save the trapped miners is just so refreshing and a great start! (The smut is pretty good too though. XD)

Of Palaces and Ruins by livelongandgetiton (Complete, 127K, 17ch.)- I am in my 3rd reread of this fic. Archeologist Bilbo Baggins is hired to nanny for the Durins to earn a spot on a dig in Erebor, but ends up falling in love with his employer. If I'm ever not bragging on this fic you might check on me because I LOVE IT!

Sleep Alone; Start All Over by vicious_summer (WIP, 18K, 1ch.)- I got super excited just by the summary for this fic. After an accident, Bilbo is the one who ends up losing about seven years worth of memories including the fact that he's married to the King Under the Mountain. I'm just always so impressed with vicious_summer's writing style as it has a more Book!Bilbo vibe.

Not Rated:

The Tale of Two Canines--Or When Dwalin Met Ori by BrightStarling (Complete, 16K, 10ch.)- A bit more Dwori, you definitely get more Bagginshield in the sequel. Thorin is a husky owned by Dwalin, Bilbo is a corgi owned by Ori, and a meeting in the park will bring these four together. It's just so cute having puppy Bagginshield!!

[riacte]

H asking Cub to come back during MCC31 SOT and Cub saying "I believe, H, I believe" 🤝 H trying to guide False in MCC29 Dodgebolt and False saying "Don't talk to me"

No fr MCC31 Blue Bats SOT was kinda insane, and what was even more insane was that their POV was so chill? They casually got like, 6k coins? And honestly Cub has to be the MVP here. He barrelled through all the rusty doors, got the blue vault, and then saw the gold key over the lava parkour. And Cubfan, that madman, he just nonchalantly jumped over and got the key. Even H later said he wouldn't have done it. Dubfan real. And as H says, Cub has "balls of steel". Cub's confidence is soooo cool because he's usually very collected during e-sports. He might be on the quieter side, but don't underestimate him at all.

And of course, that moment in the end when they were all about to leave and Cub was trying the parkour in the lobby and H was calling for him to come back. As H later said in his VOD review, Cub didn't listen to him. And it was Cub who smoothly parkoured and got Blue Bats up to 6k coins. It was Cub who told H to believe in him. And Cub, of course, did it.

Also I'm just very 🥺💖 about the hermits and H because they clearly like and respect each other a lot, but in the early MCCs (post Blue9), H often acted as the mentor figure, which was understandable and expected because of H's experience and strategies. But as they played more together and became more familiar with each other's playing styles, the hermits grew exponentially more confident in themselves. They trusted their own skills to the point they would defy HBomb in crucial moments because they knew they could do it.

And what's interesting is that H is (was) usually the one pushing the hermits to do things back when they had less confidence (this is more for False than for Cub in this scenario). And now, they've grown enough to be pushing back against him (affectionate). Instead of hiding behind H and letting him decide everything because he clearly knows best, the hermits are now determined to do their own thing. And H lets them. If anything, he's happy they're talking back! Hermits and HBomb teams are soooo good <3

This is not really related to above point but H said Cub was a great runner and he should run unless someone really wanted to run, and while I wholeheartedly agree that Cub's running skills are fantastic, especially with the double parkour clutch, there are also very few people I would trust with sandkeeping and Cub is one of them. I'm sorry Cub but on certain teams I would rather him sandkeep just because not a lot of people are as good as he is 😭

[bl-bracket]

Best Siblings Bracket

Round One

Pat & Pa (Bad Buddy) vs Tops & Thunder (Ingredients: The Series)

Prapai & Plerng & Phan (Love in the Air) vs Akira & Hitomi (Life: Senjou no Bokuro)

Akk & Im & Egg (Enchante) vs Koichi & Younger Siblings (Eternal Yesterday)

Siwon & Siyeong (Blueming) vs Day & Night (Love Syndrome III)

Thian & Yang (To Sir With Love) vs Diao & Dao (Rak Diao)

Kuafah & Daonuea (Star in My Mind/Sky in Your Heart) vs Yoo & Vee (Love Mechanics)

Cher & Thoop (A Boss and a Babe) vs Aek & Tho (Don't Say No)

Jiang Yanli & Wei Wuxian & Jiang Cheng (The Untamed) vs Livy & Mikey (Rainbow Prince)

Tankhun & Kinn & Kim (Kinnporsche: The Series) vs Vlad & Judit (Like in the Movies)

Intouch & Ahn (Until We Meet Again) vs Tian & Longtae (A Tale of a Thousand Stars)

Dean & Del & Don (Until We Meet Again) vs Leo & Neo (3 Will Be Free)

Lan Xichen & Lan Zhan (The Untamed) vs Noey & Nidnhoi (I Will Knock You)

Pi & Duean & Wan (Fish Upon the Sky) vs Chien Teng & Yu He (DNA Says Love You)

Korn & Krit & Kard (Until We Meet Again) vs Cairo & London (Gameboys)

Tai & Tien (La Pluie) vs Tan & That (Manner of Death)

Vegas & Macau (Kinnporsche: The Series) vs Mork & Meen (Fish Upon the Sky)

Black & White (Not Me: The Series) vs Shintaro & Sakurako (Minato Shouji Coin Laundry)

Payu & Saifah (Love in the Air) vs Jim & Jam (Moonlight Chicken)

Tonhom & Long Pao & Seeiw (My Only 12%) vs Ritsu & Shuji (Jack o' Frost)

Haoting & Yongxing (HIStory 3: Make Our Days Count) vs Seefoom & Seenam (Ghost Host Ghost House)

Hoon & Teh (I Told Sunset About You) vs Man & Q's Mom (21 Days Theory)

Leo & Leon (Don't Say No) vs Mob & Ayato (A Man Who Defies the World of BL)

Kim & Khett (The Shipper) vs Gu Xiang & Chengling (Word of Honor)

Wan & Win & Wiew (Between Us) vs Tine & Type (2gether: The Series)

Porsche & Porchay (Kinnporsche: The Series) vs Vee & Pan (You're My Sky)

Tang Yi & Zhuo Hongye (HIStory 3: Trapped) vs Kurosawa & Older Sister (Cherry Magic)

Nie Mingjue & Nie Huaisang (The Untamed) vs Bai Qing & Bai Lang (My Tooth Your Love)

Tharn & Thorn & Tanya (Tharntype: The Series) vs Pluem & Prim (Ghost Host Ghost House)

Wen Qing & Wen Ning (The Untamed) vs Tsubasa & Younger Brother (Kabe-Koji-Nekoyashiki-Kun Desires to be Recognized)

Sun & Rain (Dark Blue Kiss) vs Zeshou & Xueching (Plus & Minus)

Jeng & Jaab (Step by Step) vs Gu Xiang & Wen Kexing (Word of Honor)

Minoru & Tane (Our Dining Table) & Sarawat & Phukong (2gether: The Series)

[badassbutterfly1987]

Shades of Magic: Hunger Games AU

(Technically a Catching Fire AU)

Lila Bard has always been a survivor. Scrappy and vicious and more durable than anyone else expected. So, once the initial bout of angry swearing is out of her system, she slumps back onto the couch. “They’re trying to kill us. We broke the rules and this is how they do it. One last spectacle for the districts.”

There was only ever supposed to be one victor, never two. They’d defied that with their pretend love story and holding knives to their own throats. Two victors, they had declared. You get two victors or none.

She had hoped this would be the end. One last performance, one last fight, and then finally return to Barron. Return to the Grey Districts.

Neither of them should be here, Alucard especially. Red District-born, only kicked down to her level because of political shenanigans.

“Not just us, Bard,” Alucard drawls. “Every victor. Take them out before they can be swayed by rebellion.”

She can, grudgingly, see the logic. Efficient and more entertaining for the masses. Before it had been children and barely adults in the arena, now it will be experienced killers from every district. “So we’re fucked.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” Alucard fidgets with the coin in his hand. “On the bright side, you’ll get to see what the Red districts look like first.”

...

“No, no, this isn’t right,” Rhy insists. “You did your time, they can’t make you do this again!”

Kell doesn’t argue; they both know this is happening either way. Osaron wants the victors to fight and die in the Quarter Quells and that is what he will get.

It doesn’t matter that they belong to the highest family in Arnes, in the most successful Red District. It doesn’t matter that Rhy is treated as the beloved prince of his people. It hadn’t protected them when they were 14.

He volunteered in Rhy’s place back then, prepared to die for him. He can kill for him again.

“Maybe I won’t get picked,” Kell offers. “The Red Districts, Arnes especially, has produced dozens of victors. I like our odds.”

...

Holland is told of the plot before the others, one of the few benefits of being sponsored by the Danes; they know when to keep him in the loop. At least it gives him time to think up a plan.

“Nasi can’t go back to the arena,” Vortalis says as he moves an ost piece. “She was lucky last year; that won’t save her a second time.”

Vortalis had hunted down and killed half of the other tributes his year; Holland had managed to kill three; Nasi had spent most of the game hiding in the trees and killed one person.

She is still under her bed after hearing the news, refusing to speak or come out.

“Ojka has already agreed to volunteer in her place.” Holland knows he will hate this next part. “I will volunteer as well.”

“Holland-“

“You can’t fight the way you used to,” he interrupts, moving a piece. “I still can.”

Vor moves slower now, weakened by half-healed injuries and the passing decades. Holland can't sleep alone at night without having nightmares but violence comes easily to him now, both his sponsors and former mentor ensured that.

“Besides, you can sway our benefactors more if you’re working on the outside.”

They both know he isn’t speaking only of the Capitol’s elite. The whispers of rebellion have only grown louder over the years. This might be enough for something to change.

Vortalis gives a grim smile then, gripping his hand. “Then we’d best start on figuring out the competition.”