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strawberrypinky · 11 months ago

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fire and ice. [gortash x tav] - part one [of tyranny and chaos]

Enver had rarely been wrong about people throughout his rise to power, yet Elodie Liardon was the gift that kept on giving. She was his equal in every way & he would go through to great lengths to ensure she'd be at his side when the world became his.

Unfortunately for him, she wasn't as easily convinced.

A/N: I think it goes without saying that I don't support or endorse anything Gortash does in this story. He's a terrible person & evil. That said, he's hot & this is also my first time writing a villain as the main character - I am not yet sure where this story is going to head in certain aspects. The warnings are subject to change, so make sure to check them out as this story progresses. This story may feature non con down the line. Also, I'm not an expert in DnD lore – a lot of this is based on my own research & interpretations & I'm taking a few creative liberties with this story, e.g. the Council of Four. Canonically, the Council of Four consist of Ulder Ravengard (Wyll's father), Dillard Portyr, Belynne Stelmane and Thalamra Vanthampur. For the sake of this story, Vanthampur is replaced with Thamior Liardon aka our heroine's father. The age difference between Elodie and Enver is fairly large. She is about Wyll's age when the canon events start (24), whereas I headcanon Enver to be around 40 years old. This chapter takes place about five years before the canon events, making Elodie 19 and Enver 35. You can also read this story on Archive of Our Own This chapter serves as an introduction to both Elodie and Enver. Shoutout to @gufu-vire for giving me some serious dialogue inspiration & supporting this messy project from the start 💕 And of course shoutout to my platonic soulmate @legacygirlingreen. I couldn't do any of this without you girl 💕 Word Count: 7k

Ordinarily, Enver enjoyed the splendour of the Upper City and the extravaganza of what the night brought.

It wasn't that he particularly cared for exuberant soirees or merriment among the Patriars and Lords of Baldur's Gate, but because the ceaseless inebriation meant they all became cursory - revealing their Achilles Heel to Enver on a silver platter.

All that was left to do for him was shoot and observe as they crumpled beneath their fragmented invulnerability.

He had long learned not to underestimate the value of thinly veiled threats and carefully curated negotiations. Enver's upbringing in Avernus had ensured at least that much. It had been a miserable existence at best, though the unyielding fists of Nubaldin and the narcissistic ornery of Raphael were better described as castigatory crucifixion, and for the longest time, he had been sure he'd succumb to it. The bloodied and blazing wastelands of Avernus were scarcely the sight any sane being would wish to wake up to, but for a near decade, Enver had been greeted by rivulets of lava and barren hills whenever he had opened his eyes to the unending torment of the House of Hope and while the lavish grandeur of Raphael's home would forever outshine most of the Patriars estates, it could never hide the insanity that transpired within its walls. An existence surrounded by infernal creatures was a fickle thing, rarely monotonous as the days had bled into one. Sleep had been a scarce rarity to come by as screams of tortured souls and beggars and the everlasting sonorousness of the Blood War penetrated even into the dungeons of the paradoxical House of Hope. It was madness incarnate, and Enver would nearly count himself as fortunate not to have gone mad.

Yet, in his most forlorn and reticent moments, there was a mocking voice in his head, a reminder that the abject terrors of Avernus had rendered him just as mad and just as hateful. His mother would have likely argued he had always been a hateful little wretch, having loathed his entire existence from the second he had taken his first breath after the agonising three-day labour he had "put her through". Perhaps she had been right. He was so very full of it.

Enver came to think of his hatred as his strength, his source of being and the flame that drove him forward - A testament to his unwavering determination and resilience.

When he had escaped Avernus, coughing up sulfur and ash, it was hatred which drove his acts. For as much as his hatred had grown like a malignant tumour in Raphael's clutches, it had been useless until his eyes flickered over the poverty-stricken streets of the Lower City.

His hatred proved incredibly useful when he was penniless, toiling under the Zhentarim's thumb. It was a thankless venture, but it kept him off the streets.At the very least, it also provided a start to more extraordinary things.

And it was his hatred which fuelled his Lord, the one God who deigned to answer when all others had long forsaken him.

His mother once worshipped Gond and while his father never expressed favour for any of them, Enver had espied prayer to Waukeen more than once. Enver cared for neither. He hadn't cared for any of them – until Bane.

His God had sensed his hatred, strengthened it, and it served him exceptionally. For all their faults and arrogance, the Zhentarim had chosen their patron correctly. Bane was wholly malevolent — hatred incarnate. Enver had long understood that the weak were culled and ruled by the strong, and Bane only strengthened Enver's resolve to establish his rightful place as the mighty. He had pledged to never be weak again. To never feel fear as he had when his parents had sold him, but to make others fear his might alone. He had pledged to never be the snotty, heaving child again, fearfully wailing for his parents as Nubaldin's fist hit him over and over again. Gone was the child Enver Flymm.

Through Bane, Enver Gortash was born.

And through him, Enver Gortash would rise like a phoenix from the ashes until the world was his, and his subjects would tremble in fear of his God as they were destined to be.

With Bane, it had been almost frighteningly easy to oust the Zhentarim from the weapon market to take control over the entirety of the Chinonthar Valley black market, but his hatred demanded more with each passing second. No matter which ventures Enver took upon, he succeeded – his loathing endless and his greed all-consuming.

Perhaps in another life, Enver would have felt fulfilled, escaping from the Hells.

Perhaps in another life, he would have been content with leading the weapons trade.

In this life, he knew he'd never be. Sated, perhaps, when all bowed before his glorious might. But certainly never satisfied.

The gentility of Baldur's Gate understood him well enough, even if they buried it deep beneath false charity and fascicle philanthropy. Beneath the masks they had carefully curated, they were all as spiteful as him. They all craved control over one another to assert themselves as the leaders they had made themselves out to be. Extravagant soirees, glittering jewels and extortionate gossip defined their haughty measuring of dicks. It was an ecosystem in and of itself, one which was all too easy to mould once the first step had been taken. It had taken a few years of sweet-talking, of extorting and of fucking them, but Enver was nothing if not patient. He was one of them now, and hardly anything else mattered but the next step. It was why he attended these lavish parties in the first place, even when his mood had been sour for the better part of the day.

The bitch queen's waveservants had distracted his sailors, and while Enver knew they hadn't half of his wits, he had expected they could think with their smooth brains instead of their minuscule dicks. A mistake on his part, really. As a result of their inadequacy his cargo had been seized and half his posse incarcerated. Far from uncommon in his line of work, but it was troublesome just the same.

After an entire day of negotiating for their (undeserved) freedom, Enver had half a mind to drown himself in Arabellan Dry. Unfortunately for him, it was the night of The Breaking, and his attendance was crucial. The Rah of Baldur's Gate was rarely ever found in a gathering this grand, and it provided ample opportunity for Enver to further his ambitions.

The moment he stepped through the grand, gilded doors of High Hall, he was enveloped by a cacophony of drunken laughter and chattering. The glittering melody of an orchestra filled the halls, a sickeningly joyous melody commemorating the arrival of spring. The air was perfumed with a fragrant blend of expensive cologne and plum prosecco. Enver had wrinkled his nose in distaste. The awful concoction was a true scourge these days. He could only hope some Baldur's Grape was available, too. Otherwise, this would be an arduous night.

There was a faint and underlying mustiness to the halls, the gallery illuminated by twinkling chandeliers casting an ethereal glow over the old halls. The decor was befitting the occasion — elegant pieces of silver and sage adorn the room's tables, ceilings, and elaborate mouldings. The flower arrangements were fragrant and intricate, likely having cost a fortune. It was opulent, borderline garish – utterly characteristic of the Upper City and its residents.

It was within this opulence Enver first saw her.

He had spent the better part of the night speaking to associates and... investors in his business ventures – a dance or two with a lady of noble birth in between. Their coquettish smiles were charming, though their personalities were as bland as a slice of stale bread. Enver never understood how some could be that dull and daft when they had endless funds at their disposal. If he were a better person, he'd pity them. Alas, he drowned his exasperation instead. He was far from drunk, but at the very least, the endless yapping had become tolerable.

His eyes wandered over the crowds, most delightfully inebriated, as Sir Provoss chewed his ear off about some venture Enver was invested in. He hardly listened; the Provoss family was near destitute and of no value to him. Within the sea of people, he noticed a glimpse of something silvery and shimmering, a horde of young ladies not far as they looked in the same direction and gossiped animatedly. Their gazes were full of disdain and haughtiness. Enver knew that hatred well - he had been on the receiving end of it long enough himself. His insatiable curiosity propelled him forward as he observed the rare display of disdain from the young noblewomen. With a quick excuse, he approached to catch a glimpse of a young elven woman standing beside Duke Dillard Portyr. The older man appeared to be engaged in a lively conversation with her.

Enver's first thought was that she was magnificent. Beautiful. Alluring.

Silvery locks had been intricately swept up in an updo, with carefully coiled curls framing her delicate features as they gleamed in the light. Her face, petite and exquisitely angular, was adorned with elegantly high cheekbones that gracefully complemented her ivory skin. Shell-pink lips were curled into a pleasant smile, and her eyes were such a striking green that Enver was almost disarmed for a second as he glanced at them. She wasn't tall, but she held herself with a regality Enver had scarcely seen from the most noble houses of Baldur's Gate.

It was easy to see why she was regarded with such disdain. These noblewomen who regarded her with such disdain could only hope to mimic a fraction of her beauty and breathtaking allure.

A pearly gown draped elegantly against her small figure; the delicate and intricate stitching along the hem only further enhanced her beauty. A Debutante, Enver noted. Rich by the looks of it, too.

A sly grin placed itself on his face.

Young, naive and likely wealthy beyond measure – Exactly the kind of woman he could play for a fool before he played her family for funds. It was a game he had played often. For all their money and education, these noblewomen all succumbed to the lie of love far too quickly. Disgracing might have been cruel, but their families were all too keen to pay hush money, so at least they'd appear virginal.

"Duke Portyr," Enver spieled, his voice full of false enthusiasm.

The Duke and the young woman beside him turned their faces to him.

"Sir Gortash," Portyr greeted him equally enthusiastically. He was the one Duke on the Council Enver had always been able to wrap around his finger. The man was anything but a genius. Ravengard had always dismissed him and Stelmane... well, whenever she was coherent enough to conduct meaningful business, she seemed to tolerate Enver, though apparently her business interests were in conflict with his.

The last of them, Duke Liardon, Enver had met merely three times. The man was reclusive, though popular and reminded Enver of the worst times of his life.

Enver quickly shook the memory of their first meeting from his mind. He could not afford to falter now.

"Wonderful to see you tonight," Enver cleared his throat.

"Likewise, likewise, my boy. Enjoying yourself?"

Enver internally rolled his eyes. He was not a boy. He was a Lord, an inventor, a trader - an instrument of tyranny. Yet he said, "Of course", with a smile on his face.

"Why, have you met Lady Elodie yet?" the demented Duke suddenly said, turning to the side as he pointed towards the true object of Enver's attention. The young woman looked at him intently, her gaze sharp and calculating. She was focused. Vigilant. Beneath her pleasant smile, she was assessing him as much as he had assessed her.

A surprise, albeit a pleasant one.

"I have not," Enver answered, his eyes not leaving hers.

The young woman held out her hand, as polite company would, and Enver placed a chaste kiss upon it.

"A pleasure to meet you, Lady Elodie."

"The pleasure is all mine, Sir Gortash." Her voice was gentle and as delicate and airy as she appeared. A melodic lilt, carried like a breeze - warm and kind. And yet there was a measurement to her words, a precise calculation, each word enunciated as precise as they were rhythmic.

"You see, Elodie, Sir Gortash is an excellent man for business," Duke Portyr spoke. "Most excellent, in fact."

"I'm certain he is," Elodie spoke, her vigilant eyes not leaving Envers. "Weaponry, I'm guessing?"

Enver had to swallow his astonishment. Whoever she was, she was far more keen than he had expected.

"Among other things," Enver confirmed with a nod. He did not appreciate her control, but her intelligence? Perhaps that was even more intriguing than her beauty. He could respect it even, but control? He would always love that above all.

"May I have your next dance?" He asked. A young debutante should be easily swayed by flirtatious advances, no matter how intelligent.

"I would be delighted."

"Excellent."

As genteel as ever, Enver held out his arm for her to take, her nimble fingers settling in the crook of his arm as he led her to the grand dancefloor. A lively waltz was playing, the cadence of the song joyful as people danced the night away around the odd couple. Enver could see various men glancing his way, their eyes full of envy. It made him smile deviously. A blind eunuch would probably still get a boner with a woman like that – she was oh so ravishing. And he had gotten her first. Jealousy was, in Enver's humble opinion, second to only hatred. If they envied him and what he had, they would hate him too. And in hatred, they'd bow to him and his Lord.

"Are you new to Baldur's Gate, Lady Elodie?" Enver asked as the pair began to waltz among the rest. "Forgive me if I am being bold, but a woman with your beauty would have long caught my eye."

She laughed - an earnest but musical sound. A blush placed itself on her cheeks.

As expected, Enver thought. The noblewomen all fell to the same folly.

"I was born in the Gate, Sir Gortash. I was... fortunate enough to travel Toril for a while. I returned recently."

"Indeed?" A well-travelled woman - certainly explained why she seemed far more educated than the rest of the lot. "Have you been enjoying your return to the city then?"

"Just so," she smiled at him as they spun around. His hand was firmly placed on her waist as he led her, warmth seeping through to his fingers. So close to her, he could smell her, and it was as exquisite as the rest of her. Luxurious notes of bergamot, freesia and mandarin assaulted his senses, with something sweet simmering beneath. Jasmine, perhaps? Whatever soap she used, it must have been expensive. Whoever her family was, they must have been at the top of the food chain.

"Though I hardly believe you asked me to dance to ask me about the Gate."

"You're quite perceptive, aren't you?"

"Just so," she grinned again, mischief flickering behind her eyes. "Or perhaps I have met your sort before."

Enver could not help the indignant snort that escaped him. No matter what she may have seen on her travels, he would bet his entire estate that she had never come across a soul like his.

"And what sort would that be, hm?" Enver teased. "I am but a partiar with a penchant for weaponry."

"Are you trying to insult your own intelligence or mine?" she quipped with a teasing lilt to her voice. "Your garments alone tell me you crave to be accepted as their own, and the shadows under your eyes are deep enough to let me know you hardly sleep. I don't suppose you call yourself an inventor too?"

Enver blinked in surprise, his mind failing him for a second as they continued to dance. This was a first. Never once before had he met a woman so stunningly beautiful and equally intelligent. A lethal combination if there ever was one. It was disarming.

"My garments?" he slowly spoke after a while. He wore something of equal luxury as she did - a bespoke suit, tailored to perfection of obsidian colour and embroidered with fine golden thread.

"You are compensating," she stated with a matter-of-fact voice. "It's a fine quality ensemble, but the embroidery is borderline garish. A man who grew up with abundant wealth would hardly wear this. You worked yourself to the wealth you have. I can only assume this means you are exceptionally smart as well."

If he hadn't been so impressed, Enver would have been livid. How dare you? He wanted to shout. He wasn't compensating. He had earned his right to wear finery, and he would be damned if he did not make full use of it. Instead, he only gave her a strained, near-mocking laugh. After all, she had correctly assumed he was smart.

"My my. You are full of surprises, aren't you?"

"I'd like to think so."

"Right then. Let me return the favour," Enver offered.

"By all means."

He resumed his assessment of her. The gears in his mind turned endlessly, solving endless puzzles as they presented themselves to him. She had surprised him tonight, a mistake he would not make again. Enver knew people - understood them and their wants before they understood themselves. An ability which had served him well. Her gaze, beneath the smile, remained calculating, a mask to conceal something deeper. She was a problem waiting to be solved, and Enver guessed no one ever had. His mind could fixate on problems like that — anything, really — and not let go. Controlling one element of the world meant a step closer to whole tyranny. It meant his certain keep from ruin. A bad habit, perhaps, that blinded him to other things that could harm him. A tendency towards obsession was hardwired into his brain and would have likely been his undoing if he hadn't learned to outsmart it.

"You crave to be known," Enver ventured to guess. Her breath hitched almost imperceivably, and Enver smirked. His gut had never failed him.

"You know you are beautiful. That men desire you. But you want to be known for who you are rather than your body. You crave for someone to uncover the deepest parts of your soul," his voice had reduced to a mere whisper now, blowing in her ear. "You want more, Elodie. Whether that someone is a challenge or an equal."

She blinked at him, her cheeks flushing now. Enver was sure that if he had placed a hand on her chest, he could have felt her heart beating erratically. She might have him figured out, but two could play that game. They had created a strange tableau that night in the ballroom: nefarious man, enigmatic woman, lavishly grandiose ballroom. It suggested a tale that could only end in tragedy or ruin, but Enver had always defied destiny. They could be good for each other.

"I can see why you are such a success," she chuckled, almost nervously.

"I simply exercise control in all things, Lady Elodie."

"Hm, one might think that's borderline tyrannical," she mused.

To a normal person, that might have been an insult, but to a man like Enver, who worshipped at the feet of Bane, it possibly was the best compliment he'd ever get.

"Perhaps," Enver chuckled. "But it serves me well."

"Careful, Sir Gortash," Elodie quipped. "You almost sound like a Banite."

Perceptive little thing, Enver wanted to laugh. He almost wished to inflict penance upon himself for having underestimated her so severely. She was beautiful, sure. But what worth held beauty in a woman if there were no brains to match? At best, she'd be a nice fuck, but never an equal or better yet - a wife. Enver would never dare to sully his line with offspring from a daft hussy - not that Bane would allow him to, either. His God demanded perfection; Elodie might just have been that. She was, quite frankly, up to his standards. Perhaps the woman in his arms wasn't vicious or hateful like him, but she was machiavellian and astute, qualities Enver knew Bane valued.

He tried to imagine her clad in obsidian silk or the deepest emerald wool money could buy, warped in Bane's embrace, and Enver decided he liked it. She suited his God, was possibly even worthy of his blessing if she could understand the tranquillity his tyranny would bring and follow in his name. Enver wagered she could, especially if someone could convince her of its worth and who better to convince her than him? Enver silently wondered how big of a challenge she would be, for her innate craving to be known was something he could give her better than any other man ever could, yet she did not appear as a woman who liked to be tamed. The longer Enver held her, the more he recognised that beneath the elegance and allure, there was something wild and untamable - something feral.

She could be his equal in tyranny - an invaluable asset.

"Bane is a God like any other, Lady Elodie. He rewards those willing to make sacrifices in the name of power. Sacrifices which not everyone will make." Enver mused. Her immediate face of contempt amused him. "You're not a fan, I take it?"

"Hardly," she pursed her lips. "I fail to see both the value and the right in tyranny."

"A strong word for what some might consider the natural order. The weak have always been ruled by the strong few."

"And yet nothing constitutes that right," Elodie countered, devotion in her eyes. "None have the right to decide another's fate or to enact punishment, no matter if by the hand of a God or the sheer circumstance of fortune. Nothing does."

Altruism - how much Enver detested it. He supposed it was a marker of her young age, for no matter how well-travelled she was, her brain would lack in experience and instead make up for it in idealism and heroism. He supposed he had thought like that himself once before Nubaldin and Raphael had beat it out of him until nothing but hate and the certainty that absolutism would always rule those too feeble for it. There would always be a power above them, ruling with an iron fist. Enver had long understood it was better to be that power, to wield it, instead of succumbing to it.

He was confident Elodie would learn that lesson, too.

"And how would you propose to rule chaos then, hm?"

"Chaos?" Her voice did not hide her incredulity.

"Chaos," Enver confirmed. "No control, no law, no gods, no government at all. Where do you go from there? What sort of agreement is necessary if everyone is to live in peace? What social contract is needed so that everyone is taken care of?"

She mulled over it for a while, the gears in her head turning as the pair spun around the ballroom. She seemed to genuinely consider his question, though Enver did not know where her mind strayed. Would it come to the same conclusion he had long accepted? That in chaos, each mortal, with their own individual agenda, could only cause friction, conflict and war? Humanity was a flaw, and in the chaos of Avernus was the first time he saw it undressed. In turmoil, civilisation disappeared; every august manner and act was stripped away in the blink of an eye. Chaos would always reveal everything a person was - that humanity's greatest flaw was humanity itself. A peaceful existence could only exist if they bowed to a collective agenda - his agenda, preferably - and when finally they'd bow to him in fear, perhaps they might find a semblance of peace.

"You are a curious man, Sir Gortash," Elodie hummed after a while. "I don't think I have ever met an enigma such as you."

"I will take that as a compliment," Enver chuckled as he spun her around once again.

The melody of the song came to its grand finale, every couple spinning as they prepared for it to end. Glittering twirls and heaving breaths accompanied the soaring crescendo before, after long, the orchestra had quieted, and each couple bowed and curtsied in respect before either gathering themselves for another dance or leaving the floor altogether. Enver gently led Elodie away, hoping to perhaps continue their conversation over some wine. It was rare a person caught his interest beyond business - the last was a Bhaalspawn and he still wasn't entirely sure how much he could trust them. After all, their masters were not only at odds, but they had been created for nothing but slaughter, and Enver wasn't asinine enough to pretend he was the exception.

"It's getting rather late," Eloide mused.

"You've yet to answer my question," Enver mentioned with faux casualty, though internally, he was burning with curiosity.

"Delayed gratification is not denial, Sir Gortash," a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "I shall bid you good night."

Gracefully, she spun around, shimmering in the glowing light before she disappeared into the crowds, leaving Enver Gortash speechless for perhaps the first time in his life.

The second time Enver saw Elodie, it had been in the same corridors of High Hall, though the decor had long been removed, and the orchestra was no longer enchanting Patriars. Parliament was supposed to be in session later that day, and Enver had been summoned by Duke Portyr to discuss further commerce strategies as the Tymanther-Unther War continued to disrupt the trade between the nations. It was a tiresome issue, and if someone would have asked him his opinion, Enver would have bombed the Tymanthan armies a long time ago. The old empire of Unther was far from his favourite places in Faerûn, but their gold and iron were unfortunately far too valuable to lose in the long run.

Alas, Duke Ravengard had outright rejected to provide any militia, which had upped the price of metals exponentially - much to Enver's ire.

Porytr was a dimwitted oaf he had always been able to control, but unfortunately, the Duke was simply that. A Duke. The commander of the Flaming Fist on his side would have been much preferable for Enver, but it was merely a matter of time before Ravengard perished, whether that be in battle or due to an uprising among the Gate's citizens. Gorion's Ward, the hero who had saved the realm from Bhaal once, had not been spared - a mere commander of the Flaming Fist was replaced within a breath. Enver had considered assassination more than once; the Bhaalspawn turned his personal assassin would have been more than up for it, possibly even knelt at his feet for allowing such carnage and chaos to be sown. However, Bhaal and Bane's truce was fragile enough - further straining their relationship by using Bhaal's greatest design would have been an insult to the deity Enver was not keen to make. He had made a great deal of enemies; he did not need to add the God of Murder to the list.

As Enver sashayed around the Ducal Palace piano tunes accompanied his steps. Curious, he thought. There was nary a day the pianos were used, unless the halls were used for lavish parties and as far as Enver knew, there were none held anytime soon. As his luck would have it the sound carried itself from somewhere near the ducal offices, thus Enver indulged his curiosity and followed the melody as it carried itself through the musty halls.

He was both bewildered and pleased when he saw Elodie again.

The young woman had hardly left his mind in the aftermath of the Breaking, and yet not a single person had spotted her since. Enver had half a mind to ask Porytr for the young maiden's full name, for the oaf seemed to at least know who she was, which could not be said the rest of the Partriars. She was a complete mystery, and mysteries had, regrettably, a way of driving people utterly mad. No matter how well Enver tried to outsmart his own humanity, he, too, fell folly to the same desire of uncovering the truth.

He observed her for a while; watched as her nimble fingers glided over the piano keys. He had recognised the tune then - a Cormanthyran hymn from times long ago, first come into creation as the Seven Citadels' War had ended and Elves had rejoiced of peace returning to their lands. Enver did not know the name, for the Elvish tongue was foreign to him, but he knew of it as an Ode to Freedom, heroism and eventual triumph as people came together to be good. Enver silently wondered if she had known he would be there or if she had chosen the piece by chance (even if he did not believe that himself).

"You are full of surprises, Lady Elodie," Enver revealed his presence as the final note echoed within the halls.

If she had been beautiful in the dim and glimmering light of the Breaking, Enver supposed she was ethereal as the sun illuminated her skin and her hair, cascading down in gentle waves to the middle of her back shimmered in the golden light.

"Oloth elgg ssussun," the elvish sounded like a prayer spilt from her lips. "Have you any idea what that means, Sir Gortash?"

"I'm afraid I speak no elvish," he divulged, curiously awaiting where this conversation would lead.

"Darkness drowns out light," she smiled as she turned to face him. "You asked how I would govern chaos."

So she had not forgotten - Enver was almost giddy as he awaited her answer with feigned lassitude. He had damn near longed to hear her answer after she had disappeared from his clutches.

"I have indeed," he chuckled.

"My mother saw the piano as a means to control the chaos in me," the young woman began to muse. "She had hoped that dexterous fingers would curb the less dexterous approach I had to... other things."

The gears in Enver's mind began turning rapidly again as he assessed the vexing smile on her lips. She was toying with him, possibly even enjoying laying out the puzzle pieces to her innermost self. He could venture to guess what she was; the feral nature that had always simmered just beneath was the answer all along.

"You're a Sorcerer, aren't you?"

She nodded in confirmation, her smile widening a fraction on her face.

"My parents were rather frightened when I set fire to my maid's skirts at the mere age of eight," a small chuckle escaped her. "I was uncontrolled. Chaos incarnate, one might say. And you know what only amplified the chaos?"

"I suppose you are about to enlighten me." He was intrigued now, clinging onto her words as if each and every one was vitally important.

"Control. The more my parents tried to control it - the further they tried to suppress what I was - the worse the chaos became. People are a lot like that, you know?" she hummed appreciatively, head somewhere between there and the clouds. She was staring into nowhere, a faraway look in her eyes as if remembering times long past. Enver supposed she did.

"Either way," she sighed after a few seconds, "control, tyranny, is not the answer to ensure peace."

"Then what is?" Enver asked, slowly stepping closer. He wasn't entirely sure why he had asked - he knew full well he would neither approve the answer nor even think it sensical. But, perhaps, she had been just impressive enough for him to bother and young enough to believe he could influence her. Change her. For all the men and women he had bedded, betrayed and deceived, none had ever offered a semblance of a challenge or semi-equal wit, and it was both pleasant and addicting to have it in her.

"There isn't a need to govern chaos, much less to suppress it," she smiled gently. "There is beauty in it, and it is part of us human beings as much as it is of our greatest problems and most eloquent solutions."

Enver suppressed the urge to roll his eyes and laugh in her face. There was no beauty in chaos or much less revelry, and while he agreed that chaos was innately human, he would never dare describe it as beautiful. Chaos did not provide any eloquent solutions but caused endless problems, which in turn only caused suffering. Her youthful, altruistic nature was nearly adorable - how delightful it would be for him to turn it around. He did savour a challenge, after all.

"I see," Enver nodded. "So your idea of a government is for it to do nothing."

"No," Elodie frowned. "Besides, you -"

Their conversation was cut short as the grand oak doors leading to the ducal offices opened, and Duke Portyr and Duke Liardon stepped out with grim looks and hastened steps. Whatever previous meetings they had been in - and Enver assumed it was trade-related, as most things were these days - it likely wasn't fruitful or congenial, which meant he would have to amplify his charms if he wanted to convince the oaf Portyr of the vision he held for the Tymanther-Unther War. He scrutinised the two men as they prattled in hushed voices, tension clear on their faces as both looked near furious at the other, the vexation bubbling just beneath the surface. A peculiar sight, Enver noted, yet he continued to observe, hoping the already visible tension would translate itself into something further - as it always threatened to.

From the handful of encounters Enver had with Duke Thamior Liardon, he had gathered that the man was as stoic as can be, deep brown eyes constantly assessing and calculating as he carefully observed those around him. For an elf, the man was rather tall and imposing, and while his rather charitable ventures made him a somewhat popular fellow among Baldurians, Duke Liardon was possibly the single person in this plane Enver could never quite make sense of. He knew the Duke had engaged in ignoble dealings and immoral trades, the man's history strangely interwoven with Enver's own and yet neither had ever mentioned it to the other. To know of the truth, to be conscious of another reality while dancing around carefully constructed tales had created a strange diorama between the men who otherwise did not engage with each other, though Enver anticipated the day he finally put Duke Liardon in his rightful place.

To repudiate morality while laying claim to it was one thing, though Enver did not care for liars. But a man who dealt with devils, no matter how beloved a politician, was no man he would protect when he inevitably rose above them. It was yet another process of arduous and ultimate subtlety in his ambition, his destiny, to be absolute.

"Papa," the girl next to him cleared her throat before she took assured steps towards Duke Liardon.

The two Dukes finally ceased their conversation, quick, easy and strained smiles placing themselves on their faces as Elodie approached them. Papa? Enver wondered for a brief second, though he wished to self-flagellate himself when he finally saw it. Of course - how could he have not seen it before?

He had felt the presence of nobility, understood she was wealthy beyond most people's means - she even looked like him. It was uncanny now that the girl stood in front of her father.

Enver Gortash, nee Flymm, rarely ever got excited, but that particular moment was something else entirely. Enver watched with sharp eyes as perhaps the most significant opportunity in his life arose - a culmination of years of hard work, careful planning and, in this case, sheer dumb luck.

Elodie - no longer an elusive noblewoman but the daughter of a Duke.

"Duke Portyr, Duke Liardon," Enver greeted the men. "How wonderful to see you."

"Likewise, Gortash," Thamior nodded curtly, his voice clipped as he mustered Enver. "I wasn't aware we were expecting company in the ducal offices today."

"I invited him," Portyr retorted. "We were to discuss some ... commerce strategies."

"Ah," the elven Duke nodded. "I see."

"I wasn't aware you were active in the political landscape, Sir Gortash," Elodie cut in, a curious look on her face as she retrenched this new information.

Before Enver could answer her, her father cut in, an incredulous "You know him?" spilling from the collected Duke's lips. It was the first time Enver had seen the barest hint of emotion on the man's face. He stored that information away immediately. Knowing the Achilles Heel of another was always valuable, particularly for a Duke who shamelessly bargained with infernal beings without so much as an ounce of contrition. Not that Enver was any better.

"We met at the Breaking," Enver explained with a small nod.

"I actually introduced them," Portyr exclaimed happily. "They were rather dashing on the dancefloor if I do say so myself." Enver nearly snorted as he glanced at the barest hint of displeasure and ire on Thamior Liardon's face. Achilles Heel, indeed.

"I wasn't aware matchmaking was an area of your expertise, Dillard."

The Duke laughed dismissively, the sound echoing through the grand halls of the ancient halls. "Your daughter has grown up," he remarked with a hint of both condescension and amusement.

Enver was confident he would have been privy to a fight between the Dukes then and there had Elodie not intervened with a chagrin giggle.

"Be that as it may, Mama has asked you to join her at Figaro's before the council is in session later today. Something along the lines of your doublet needing to be fixed?"

The Duke begrudgingly complied, uttering a quick "Until later" before he scurried towards the exit, a chamberlain and guard rushing to follow him before Enver was left in the company of Elodie and Duke Portyr, who conveniently excused himself with a cheeky wink. Enver carefully quelled the instinct to be overzealous, opting instead to maintain his characteristic veneer of stoicism. However, beneath his near-impenetrable façade, the prospect of engaging with her further was a discrete thrill, an emotion as perplexing as it was involuntary.

"I see my father is no votary of yours," Elodie broke the silence.

Enver barked out a laugh. If only she knew. Her father was a man shrouded in more secrecy than most Baldurian's would ever know, hardly the paragon of justice some had made him out to be and even less the devout Lathander disciple his Cleric wife had allegedly turned him into. But if they had all accepted the lie, Thamior Liardon had imposed on them – if all his records and annals told the same tale – the lies passed into the narrative and became truth. It was yet another testament to humanity's flaws, for most could be made to accept the most flagrant violations of reality, simply swallowing everything they were given without a second thought. How much they could thrive under leadership like his...

"We do not see eye to eye," Enver cryptically replied after a while. One day, he would use the lack of her knowledge against her, but in that singular moment, it had been far more sensical to omit the truth in favour of her trust.

"I'm not surprised," Elodie mused. "He's no fan of control."

"A sentiment you see to share," Enver retorted.

"I do," she nodded resolutely. "Control and power are not a means, Sir Gortash. They are an end. Tyranny itself is deeply rooted in the chaos you desperately seek to eliminate."

"I beg to differ."

"Do you?" Elodie tilted her head. "One does not establish tyranny in order to safeguard people from chaos; one sows it to establish tyranny. Sarevok himself used chaos as a means to establish his own."

"Sarevok was a Bhaalspawn," Enver interjected, befuddled. "Bhaal's scions never sought anything but conflict. It was quite literally bred into them." - and still was, he nearly said, but the girl likely lived under the belief that any Bhaalspawn had long perished.

"And yet he sowed enough chaos to nearly be crowned a Duke of this city, which would have enabled his own tyrannical rule and end in Bhaal's name." She hummed for a second as if deep in thought. "Faith is both an anchor and an excellent catalyst for indoctrination, you know."

"Aren't your parents known Lathander worshippers?" Enver asked incredulously. Such words were hardly those of a faithful.

"I am too," Elodie confessed. "And yet my point stands. How often have wars been fought in the names of gods, if only to establish something purportedly better? How often has faith been used to establish means of control, yet only chaos was left in its wake?"

Clever as she was, Enver had begun to see her point, though he certainly did not agree with her conclusion. While Sarevok's folly had been nought but chaos and destruction, it was hardly reflective of faith but more a reflection of the god. A god such as his Lord Bane would bring eternal peace, though yes, also fear, yet the brief struggle would culminate in peace if only people would see and bend to the whim of his dreaded Lord. Obedience alone was not enough unless there was suffering for a brief second in which human minds were torn apart and put together again in the shapes of his own choosing.

Enver surmised, with a grin, that Elodie was correct.

Chaos was, if only briefly, a vital aspect to assured peace and if a collective god would sow it upon all until they bend to his will - an imposture of manufactured chaos, which may have been unreal yet vitally important. His mind twisted and turned endlessly, rapidly altering and revising as Enver realised just how useful chaos could be if only treaded with trepidation, contempt, adulation, and orgiastic triumph.

"I see your point," he eventually grinned. "After all, the faithful will do anything in the name of their god."

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wordingg · 1 year ago

Text

Five Idiots Look For a Cave - Chapter One

Summary: Laios and his sister Falin are hired to guard a wagon of provisions as it travels from the city of Neverwinter to the small frontier settlement of Phandalin. It seems like a dead easy job, but it quickly becomes more complicated when their employer is kidnapped by goblins, sending them on a wild goose chase across the most dangerous parts of the Sword Coast in search of him with a ragtag group of unlikely allies.

Or, I make the dunmeshi guys play through the Lost Mines of Phandelver, because why not.

A/N: This is such a weird project to tag and explain, but I'm going to try.

For those familiar with Delicious In Dungeon, but not Dungeons & Dragons: The Lost Mines of Phandelver is the scenario/campaign that's provided in the starter set that you can buy for Dungeons & Dragons. I've run this campaign a bunch of times during my years playing Dungeons & Dragons and I thought the characters of dunmeshi were just begging to be dropped into a D&D game. So, that's what I did. The plot of this story is the campaign, Lost Mines of Phandelver, and whenever the characters need to do something, I roll dice to see whether they can do it or not. Combat, investigation, everything. I am literally playing this game by myself and then converting it into a fic.

For those familiar with Dungeons & Dragons, but not Delicious In Dungeon: Delicious In Dungeon is an anime set in a fantasy world where dungeon diving is a well-known career choice. The setting and characters are such a good match to Dungeons & Dragons that I had to change very little to get the characters to fit into a Forgotten Realms setting.

All that to say, the story should be digestible by anyone, even if you're not familiar with both fandoms.

Also, just a warning that I don't really have an in depth plan for this story, so I'm going to add tags and relationships as I go. I really like Chilchuck/Laios and Falin/Marcille, so those are the two pairings most likely to be added, but no promises either way. I'll make sure to warn if I add anything at the beginning of each chapter.

Laios Touden and his sister Falin stood by while the wagon they had been paid to accompany was loaded up with supplies. Young men barely more than boys hauled barrels and burlap sacks of provisions up into the old warped bed of the wagon, more passing up shovels, pickaxes and crowbars. Laios counted about twelve sacks of flour, seven casks of salted pork, two kegs of strong ale, five lanterns, and a small barrel of oil.

It was early, just an hour before dawn, but the south gate out of the city of Neverwinter was already starting to bustle with traffic. Mostly it was wagons not unlike their own, though filled with produce and other products from the farms circling the city that served to feed the swollen populace within the city walls. From farther north the smell of baking bread and roasting meat signaled the beginning of breakfast for the many people packed in close behind thick the stone walls.

Laios was ready to leave the city. He had grown up in the far north, surrounded by rolling fields, freezing cold fjords, and winter lashed forests. He had lived in a lot of places since he had left his home, but cities were never his favorite. There were too many people, too close, all smelling and talking and leaving their things everywhere. He was looking forward to being outside the city walls for a while, but they had to wait until the wagon was full before they could leave.

“Toudens!” a boisterous voice called from the main thoroughfare.

Falin, standing beside him and watching the loading of the wagon with more interest than Laios, smiled and raised her hand at the call. Slower, Laios raised his hand as well, to wave to their most recent employer.

A dwarf with rust colored red hair and beard sitting atop a pretty dapple gray pony split from the little stream of people leaving the city through the south gate and came toward Laios and the steadily filling wagon. Following behind him was an older human man wearing chain mail and riding on a three quarter sized bay mare with another small dwarf with a thick black beard witting sideways on the horse’s haunches behind him.

“Mr. Rockseeker,” Laios greeted him as he pulled his horse up close. He didn’t step down to talk to Laios, but he didn’t begrudge him. Laios wondered how the dwarf had managed to get onto the horse in the first place.

“Please, call me Gundren,” Mr. Rockseeker said with a twinkling smile. His nose and cheeks were ruddy red above his red beard. “Mr. Rockseeker was my father.”

Laios stared at Gundren blankly until he heard Falin snort out a laugh and he realized that the nonsensical statement was a joke. He quickly barked a laugh out that felt false even to his ears. But, if Gundren noticed, it didn’t show on his face that Laios could tell.

“It looks like everyone is here, so I hope you don’t mind if I introduce you to my nephew-” Gundren started to say before being interrupted by Falin.

“Oh, actually! We’re still waiting for a friend of mine who offered to come along,” she explained with a pleasant smile.

Gundren’s face did something too complicated for Laios to follow. “A friend?” he asked uncertainly.

“Who’s everyone?” Laios asked, wondering if Gundren had meant him and Falin. He thought you usually would say ‘both’ instead of ‘everyone’ if you were just addressing two people, though he was no stranger to being wrong when it came to things like that.

“He means me,” a surly voice from near Laios’ hip grumbled, making him jump about a foot in the air and turn around.

Laios hadn’t heard anyone approach, but a halfling man with short brown hair peppered with a few fine gray hairs and big ears was standing right beside him, his arms folded in front of his chest. He had a soft looking green muffler looped around his neck and worn leather armor over a plain white shirt and dark pants. And, he apparently noticed Laios staring, as he threw a nasty look up at Laios after a few second of him looking a little too intently.

He was usually pretty bad at interpreting people’s expressions, but it was hard to misunderstand that kind of look.

Laios tuned back into Falin and Gundren’s conversation just in time to see them get interrupted by Marcille stumbling up to them, panting and bracing her hands on her knees to catch her breath. Her long blonde hair was braided in a complicated style that left half of it piled on top of her head, and half it hanging long down her back and she was wearing a pretty blue dress that looked warm but a little impractical for hard travel. As well as her spell book and quarterstaff of course.

“I’m so sorry I’m late!” she gasped. “I told the innkeeper to wake me up, but she never came! I ran the whole” she paused to take another gasping breath, “way here!”

“I won’t be able to pay another person,” Grundren said to Laios, turning his back on the two women.

“Falin and I will split our pay with her. She’s a good friend of ours. She’s trustworthy,” Laios explained, he hoped sufficiently, for Gundren.

Gundren’s eyebrows did some wiggling, shadowing his small dark eyes for a moment, but then he sighed and his shoulders slumped, and the warm smile and the twinkling eyes were back as if they had never left.

“Well, that’s alright then. Anyway, I wanted to introduce you all to my nephew, Senshi,” he said, turning to gesture to the two men behind him. The human man had helped the dwarf off the tall horse and he was walking up to the small group. “He’ll be accompanying the rest of you on the wagon to Phandalin.”

A chorus of hellos in various levels of enthusiasm came from the small group gathered by the side of the wagon. Senshi looked a lot like Gundren, if the coloring was a lot darker and his face a lot less expressive. Senshi had a long thick wavy beard that matched his thick wavy hair and a slightly receding hairline. His eyebrows were thick and his eyes were small, dark and keen. It was hard to read Senshi’s expression. Laios suspected that was probably true even for people who weren’t him.

“With that, I’ll have to bid farewell,” Gundren said with a little half bow from the top of his pony. “I look forward to meeting with the rest of you in Phandalin.”

“We won’t be traveling together?” the halfling man spoke up. He looked uncertainly at Laios and the others, before turning a frustrated expression up at Gundren.

“It’s faster to travel by horse than by wagon and I have some business to finish up in Phandalin before you all get there. But, you all won’t be far behind me,” Gundren said, already turning his pony around. The human man was mounting his mare, as well, turning her nose toward the south gate. “Take good care of those supplies!” he called over his shoulder as he rejoined the press of people heading toward the walls of the city.

The five left behind awkwardly glanced around at each other. Laios, Falin and Marcille stood together, looking down at the two smaller men who would apparently be their traveling companions for the next two or three days.

While they had been talking, the last of the supplies had been loaded into the wagon and the men who had been doing the loading had left. There was nothing to keep them there but uncertainty about their new companions.

Finally, the halfling man broke the silence with a derisive sniff. “I’ll drive the wagon,” he said. “The rest of you can ride in the back until we get out of the crowd.”

With that, he stepped away from the others and jumped a little to reach the bench at the front of the wagon and confidently took the reins. He looked over his shoulder impatiently and the others took the hint.

“Uh, right. Thanks!” Laios said, probably way too late by the way that the halfling man sucked his teeth at Laios, but Falin always said better late than never.

His chain mail clinking, Laios climbed up into the wagon behind Marcille and Falin, who had already claimed the most comfortable spots on top of the flour sacks. He reached back behind him to help pull the dwarf man, Senshi, up into the wagon as well and got a friendly nod in thanks. Together, he and the other man had to make do trying to find a comfortable spot between the tools and barrels.

Once everyone had stopped shifting, the halfling man flicked the reins and the old horses hitched to the wagon started off, pulling the rattling wooden wheels across cobblestones out of Neverwinter and south along the well maintained High Road toward their destination.

---

They made camp the first night in a little windswept area off the left side of the road alongside a number of other travelers. Their campfires flickered orange in the moonlight, lighting up the worn cobblestones of the road even if it was too dark for anyone to keep moving. The air was brisk since the shoreline was close, close enough that you could hear the soft crashing of waves on the beach in the small silences between the campsites.

“I’m surprised they only gave us five ration packs each,” Marcille said into the silence as they all sat around the fire munching away at the hard bread, dried meat and sharp cheese that had been wrapped up in wax paper for them by the same store that had loaded the wagon up for Gundren.

“It shouldn’t take us more than two days to get to Phandalin,” Chilchuck answered her from around a mouthful of bread. Chilchuck Tims was the halfling man. After half a day of traveling by wagon, Laios had finally worked up the courage to ask and was pleasantly surprised when he answered.

“Still, tis foolish to not prepare for a longer trip. Who knows what trouble we may meet on the road,” the dwarf, Senshi, said as he looked down and rubbed the dried meat between his thick blunt fingers. Laios wondered if he was trying to soften it with his hands first. He wondered if it worked.

“Senshi is right,” Laios said after a second. “If it does end up taking us longer than two days to reach Phandalin, we’ll be in a real bind.”

“We’re not going to die if we have to go a day or two without food,” Chilchuck responded, but he looked a little unhappy at the thought.

Laios shared a look with Falin at that. He supposed that was true, but he had gone without eating before on expeditions that went wrong and it wasn’t something he wanted to repeat if he could help it.

“What made you take this job, Chilchuck?” Marcille asked after an awkward moment of silence. “You seemed surprised to see other people.”

Chilchuck frowned back at her. “What made you take this job?” he asked back.

Undeterred, Marcille answered, “Well, I didn’t really take it so much as I agreed to tag along.” Turning to Falin, she asked, “What made you guys take it?”

“Laios saw the job posting at the guild,” Falin explained as she broke off a piece of her cheese and offered it to Marcille who hummed happily as she popped it in her mouth. “He’s my brother and I often accompany him on jobs that take him out of the city.”

“Yep,” Laios added, thinking back. “Falin has saved my life more times than I could count. But, this job sounded easy and straight forward. ‘10 gold to escort provisions to Phandalin with option to make more. For reliable persons only.’ “ Laios recited from memory. “Seemed just like the thing for me and Falin.”

“Ye belong to an adventurer’s guild, then?” Senshi asked Laios with a raised eyebrow.

Laios wrinkled his nose as he realized that, even if it was true, saying he was part of the adventurer’s guild was probably a little misleading.

“I only just joined a month ago. I’m still pretty green. Easy jobs like this are the only ones I’m qualified for,” Laios said hesitantly.

“But, Laios is really amazing in a fight! That’s how he got into the guild, by proving himself in a tournament. He’ll climb the ranks in no time!” Falin added with an enthusiastic grin thrown in Laios’ direction. Even if the praise made him more self-conscious, it warmed something in his heart to have her support and encouragement.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, scratching at the back of his neck.

“And, you’re just tagging along?” Chilchuck asked Marcille, doubt thick in his tone.

“Uh, well,” Marcille fumbled, seeming a little taken off guard by the question.

“Marcille is a friend of mine from temple,” Falin jumped in to say. “She just moved to Neverwinter and we’ve been showing her around. We didn’t want to leave her alone in the city for however long the job took, so we invited her along.”

Marcille and Falin shared a speaking look, something that Laios could recognize from the outside but not totally understand. Sometimes it seemed like they could have whole conversations with just their faces, in a few brief seconds snatched between words. It seemed an impossible kind of skill, one that he envied and was a little mystified by.

“That’s right,” Marcille agreed, her nose and ears a shade pinker than they had been a moment ago. “But, you still haven’t answered my question. I understand why Mr. Rockseeker wanted someone like Laios to guard his provisions on the road to Phandalin, but I’m not really sure how you fit into this.” She gave Chilchuck a piercing look, one he returned with an unhappy twist of his lips.

But, after only a moment, he sighed and sagged back against the fallen log he had sat himself against.

“Me and Gundren go way back. We used to go dungeon diving together back when I was younger. He was always decent to me. All he told me was that he had some kind of crazy opportunity opening up in Phandalin that I would want to get in on and to meet him there by the gates. He didn’t mention I’d be riding in a wagon with a bunch of strangers while he went on ahead,” Chilchuck finished with a dirty look aimed at the dirt by his foot. Laios didn’t have to be good at understanding people to understand that Chilchuck probably wished he could aim that look at Gundren instead.

“Oh, that’s awful,” Marcille sighed.

“Aye, I’m sorry to hear that. My uncle isn’t always the most considerate. Especially when he’s on a job,” Senshi added with a sorrowful nod of his head.

Chilchuck waved his hand, as if he could swat the condolences offered to him out of the air. “Whatever,” he said. “What’s done is done. I owe you all an apology, anyway. I didn’t mean to take my bad mood out on all of you.”

“Well, it’s a bit understandable,” Falin offered with a smile.

“Yeah, we didn’t take it personally,” Laios said with a shrug. He had assumed that the behavior he’d seen so far had been Chilchuck’s normal personality. It was sort of nice to hear that it wasn’t.

“Gundren is your uncle, huh?” Laios asked, changing the focus to Senshi. “Is there anything you can tell us about him? I only got to speak to him a little bit before taking this job.”

“Aye, he is my uncle, though our family is large and he is one of five uncles of mine,” Senshi explained. “There’s not much I can tell you about him, unfortunately. He and two of my uncles do much treasure hunting in the mountains about Neverwinter. I suspect that’s how you came into contact with him?” Senshi asked Chilchuck.

“Yep,” Chilchuck said. “I’m a locksmith by trade, but I have a reputation for being skilled at disarming dwarvish traps. He hired me way back when I was just starting out and is half the reason I have that reputation.”

“Do you have an interest in treasure hunting, Senshi?” Falin asked curiously.

Senshi stared into their crackling fire, his usually expressionless face becoming sorrowful. “Nay, not I. Not anymore.”

Laios looked around at the others, hoping someone more skilled at talking would interrupt the sad lonesome silence that had descended over Senshi. Unfortunately, it looked like everyone else was casting around to each other for the same thing.

Luckily, it was Senshi himself who broke the long silence. “I suspect my uncle thinks me a bit of a layabout. I don’t do any of the traditional dwarven pursuits. Mining, blacksmithing, gold prospecting. I’m sure whatever job he wants me to help with it will be something like that.”

“And, what is it that you like to do, Senshi?” Falin asked gently.

Senshi looked up for the first time since he had started talking.

“Cooking,” he said decisively. “I love to cook.”

Falin clapped her hands in joy. “Oh that’s wonderful!” she exclaimed.

“What do you like to cook most?” Marcille asked.

“Do you have a specialty?” Chilchuck asked with interest.

Laios smiled as the conversation lightened and turned lively as everyone talked and shared about food, their favorite foods, their family recipes, regional specialties they knew of.

It seemed like the ice had been broken and even if they weren’t friends they were well on their way to getting there.

---

The next morning they got an early start, eating their third ration for breakfast quickly before cleaning up the last embers of their campfire and packing up so they could get back on the road. They were not on the high road for long before they turned left onto a small dirt track with a simple sign marking it as the Triboar Trail.

It’s this road that they would take for the rest of the day and hopefully reach the small settlement town of Phandalin before nightfall.

Laios didn’t know much about the town of Phandalin. From what little he heard from other people in the guild, it was a tiny town just on the edge of the wilderness that was built on the remnants of another older settlement. It sat on the edge of the foothills of the Sword Mountains and was mostly populated by miners and the people who ran businesses that served them.

This part was the part of the journey that he had been hired for. The Triboar Trail was really that, just a worn down dirt trail leading off into untamed and largely uninhabited woods and meadows. All manner of creatures, bandits and beasts populated those lands and would have likely loved to get their hands on a wagon full of supplies like what they had.

A shiver of anticipation ran down Laios’ back as he imagined the types of monsters known to haunt the woods around them. There were stirges, of course, terrible little mosquito like creatures about the length of your arm that attacked suddenly and would try to drain their victims of blood. Ghouls could come out at night, ethereal specters of long dead travelers looking for warm bodies to possess. Ogres preferred the foothills, but they could wander close enough that running into one traveling afield for hunting wouldn’t be out of the question. Then there were goblins, orcs, owlbears! The list just went on.

Laios couldn’t suppress a whine of excitement at the thought. The sound, as quiet as it was, was still noticed by the halfling sitting beside him on the bench at the front of the wagon. Chilchuck jumped a little at the sound and gave Laios an uncertain look.

“Oh, uh,” Laios fumbled, trying to think of an explanation that didn’t include explaining that he was just excited to finally be entering monster country. “Just had a tickle in my throat,” he landed on lamely.

Chilchuck gave him a suspicious squint, but turned back to examining the road in front of them.

They continued on like that throughout the morning. Marcille and Falin occasionally walked beside the horses, the two old things walking slow enough that the women had no issues keeping up with them at a brisk walk. Senshi said his legs were too short to keep up and instead enjoyed relaxing on the flour sacks and making small talk.

It turned out that Senshi had traveled all over the world cooking and learning new cooking techniques. Marcille, the most well traveled of all of them, was especially impressed with him and got him to talking about all the far flung places he had visited.

Unfortunately for Laios, not a single monster accosted them that whole morning, even though both he and Chilchuck in front of the wagon were trying to keep a weather eye out for any movement in the brush on the sides of the road.

That is, until they reached a road block just before noon.

Just as they turned a bend in the road, they came upon a distressing sight. Two horses lying dead on their sides in the center of the road, numerous arrows pointing up out of their sides.

Chilchuck pulled the wagon to a stop as soon as they saw them and everyone stopped and stared.

“Those are Gundren and Sildar’s horses,” Senshi said slowly, looking at the two dead horses from between Chilchuck and Laios.

“Sildar?” Laios asked.

“The human man that was with Gundren yesterday morning. His bodyguard,” Senshi explained.

“I don’t like this. This feels like a set up,” Chilchuck whispered, furrowing his brow and barely raising his voice enough to be heard by the two men sitting right beside him.

“Even if we don’t trust it, we won’t be able to get the wagon past unless we move the horses,” Laios said with a thoughtful frown.

“Maybe you could use your magic to move them?” Falin asked Marcille.

Marcille fidgeted with her cape, tugging on the silky red ribbon at the front. “I couldn’t use mage hand to move them, they’re too heavy. I can only manage ten pounds at most.”

Laios sighed and jumped down from the wagon. “I’ll go investigate and try to move them. You guys take cover and let me know if you see anything, okay?”

Everyone nodded except Senshi who climbed down from the wagon, as well. “I’ll help ye,” he said gruffly. “Moving the horses will go faster if we work together.”

Chilchuck jumped back into the wagon and took cover behind a barrel, drawing his shortbow and knocking an arrow, his keen brown eyes scanning the thick foliage on either side of the road. Marcille also drew close the wagon, crouching down by a wheel and clenching her staff in both hands and looking a little seasick. Falin, however, stepped out front holding her mace menacingly in front of her, the sharp metal edges at the top glinting dangerously in the dappled light through the trees.

Laios tried to approach the horses cautiously, but his armor clicked and rang out as he walked. Senshi was quieter, but much slower. As they approached the horses, Laios agreed that they were the same ones he had seen Gundren and the human man riding yesterday morning. Even the tack on the horses was the same. Examining the blanket and saddle, Laios also noticed that the saddlebags of both horses were open, the insides looking dark and empty.

“I’ll take one set of legs, you take the other,” Senshi said, approaching the back legs of the pony.

“Wait, Senshi. Does it look like their saddlebags have been looted?” Laios asked, pointing at the bag he was looking at on the bay mare.

Senshi barely had time to make an inquisitive hum before the sound of a twig snapping behind him sent him and Laios turning just in time to see a small green creature sneaking through the underbrush with a small rudimentary bow drawn on them.

“LAIOS, LOOK OUT!” Falin shouted, pointing her mace at the goblin who had just startled them both.

Before either of them could react, an arrow was fired at them from the opposite side of the road, arching straight at Laios’ back. A flash of incredible burning pain lanced through his back, the pain so incredible that his vision fuzzed and blurred for a moment. He put his hand to his shoulder and felt hot blood against his fingertips, the soft wood of a small arrow sticking out of his back.

Beside him, Laios heard Senshi grunt and turned his head to see his new friend pierced through with an arrow, as well. Senshi was reaching out to touch a small arrow fletched in black feathers that was protruding from his upper arm, dribbling bright red blood.

“Laios!” Falin shouted again, her voice cracking on his name in a way that made his already racing heart stutter in his chest. Then, Falin quickly shouted a word that made Laios ears ring, her hand tracing a strange pattern in the air, before a flame-like radiance shot down from the sky at the goblin they had first seen.

Just as the light flickered in the air, Falin’s magic building above the goblin, the creature dodged to the side, missing the blast of sacred energy by a hair’s breadth.

The little green man growled, his voice high and stringent, making him sound like a saw working through a green piece of wood. Popping up from his rolling jump, he ran at Laios, a short chipped scimitar appearing in his long fingered hand.

Laios watched the blade come at him as if in slow motion, the goblin’s mouth fixed in a vicious snarl, his thin dark hair flying out behind his bulbous head. At the last second he leaned back out of the way of the strike and drew his own sword, his hand sure on the grip through hours and hours of training.

Behind the first goblin, yet another one appeared, this one also wielding a rusty damaged scimitar. It dodged around Laios, who was still engaged with the first goblin he had seen, and went straight for Senshi. Senshi, who had just yanked the arrow from his arm, threw up a hand desperately to protect himself from the attack, but still suffered a grievous wound across his arm that sprayed blood across the dirt road.

With a grunt, Senshi raised his greataxe high above his head. The goblin, still grinning in glee at landing a hit on the dwarf, didn’t see the axe coming until it cleaved his skull cleanly in half.

“Great job, Senshi,” Laios gasped, raising his own greatsword up at an angle to swipe at the goblin he was facing off with.

His own sword, heavier, longer and carefully maintained, carved through the small body and brittle bones of his attacker like a hot knife through butter. The goblin collapsed in a bloody heap with barely a whimper.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Laios could faintly hear Chilchuck saying from over by the wagon.

An arrow flew from the wagon where Chilchuck was hiding, fired into the bushes where the first two arrows had been shot from.

Laios barely had a moment to process that Chilchuck had joined the fight before another arrow flew, this one decidedly not from Chilchuck, and struck him right in the neck. Laios hit the ground in a spray of dirt, blood welling from his neck. In a matter of seconds his body began to feel cold, his eyesight blurry, his heart sluggish in his chest. He could hear people calling his name, but it all sounded far away.

Time became smeary around Laios. He could hear people shouting, see movement in what little he could still see, but the sound of his own struggling heartbeat took up most of his awareness. He could feel the blood pump out of his own body with each squeeze of his heart, smell the salty copper of his own life spilling out onto the uncaring forest floor.

Then, familiar hands are yanking the arrows out of his body. He could feel the flesh tear and give away under the new violence, but no pain came. He felt cold, so cold. Those same hands pressed tight against his back and a rush of warmth and pain pulsed through him, like unseen hands were yanking his flesh back in place, knitting the holes closed with fury, his body put back together none too gently, but put back together none the less.

Laios gasped as he opened his eyes and they focused on the scene around him. Falin was kneeling over him, her hands still stained with his blood, two bloody arrows discarded on the ground nearby. Senshi was laying on his back beside him in the blood soaked dirt, an arrow sticking out of his chest.

Struggling, still feeling dizzy from blood loss, Laios climbed back to his feet, picking his greatsword up off the ground.

“Thanks,” he whispered to Falin as he stood up between her and the two goblins still hiding in the brush.

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” she said around teary eyes.

“You’ve got to get them out of cover!” Chilchuck shouted as he shot another arrow into the underbrush that the arrows were coming from, though from the sound he didn’t hit anything.

Another arrow flew out of the bushes, this time aimed right at Falin, but pinged the chain mail under her robe and fell uselessly to the ground by her feet.

“Ouch,” she grumbled, rubbing the spot on her chest.

“Did that thing just hit you in the boob?!” Marcille shrieked from near the wagon.

“Uh?” Falin responded uncertainly.

Marcille shouted something in a language that Laios didn’t understand and gestured with her staff. Three darts of light flew from her staff to the bushes, igniting them with pale blue light followed by a sound of agony and a wet thump as something hits the ground. Shortly after, the sound of fast footsteps receding into the woods could be heard.

“Whoa,” Laios said, his eyes huge as he turned back to look at a still panting Marcille, her staff still held out in front of her.

“Did the last one just run away?” Falin asked faintly.

“Forget that! Heal Senshi!” Chilchuck shouted, already crawling over the seat of the wagon and hurrying over to where Senshi was still laid out on his back.

“Oh! Right, of course!” Falin exclaimed, falling back to her knees and pulling the most recent arrow from where it had buried itself in Senshi’s chest. Falin spoke some strange words and traced a symbol on Senshi’s skin. A faint warm yellow glow emanated from her hands where she pressed them to Senshi’s torso and the wounds steadily closed, the blood marching backward back into his body as the puncture wounds pulled back together.

Senshi grunted, his unfocused eyes finally seeming to see them, tracking Falin and Laios and Chilchuck as he ran up to meet them, Marcille trailing behind.

“Did we find victory?” Senshi asked with a harsh groan as he pushed himself to sit up, Laios’ hand on his shoulder to steady him.

“We’re alive and they’re mostly not, but I don’t know if you’d call that victory,” Chilchuck said wryly.

“That was terrifying,” Marcille gasped with a hand to her chest. “Is this really what you two do for a living?” Marcille asked with a concerned look at Falin who only shrugged.

“Usually with less dying, but yeah mostly,” Laios said with a shrug of his own.

“Oh, my god,” Marcille breathed. “OH MY GOD!” she shouted after a second.

“Shush! Not so loud!” Chilchuck hissed at her. “Just because these goblins are dead doesn’t mean there’s not more hiding in the woods. We need to get out of here before the one that got away comes back with his friends.”

“But,” Laios said, sheathing his sword and turning to look at the dead horses still blocking the road. “If Gundren was caught in the same ambush we just were, then the goblins could be holding him hostage. We need to help him, right?” he asked, turning to the others.

“I agree. If Gundren is in trouble, we must help him,” Senshi said with a firm nod.

“I don’t think so!” Marcille exclaimed. “You two almost died and that was only four goblins! Now you want to stomp into their lair and what? Demand to speak to a manager? I don’t think that’s going to go over very well!”

“But, Marcille. The magic you just used was amazing! With you and Falin helping us, we’ll be able to save Gundren. I’m sure of it,” Laios said with a determined nod.

“Well… About that,” Falin said awkwardly. “That last healing spell kind of wiped me out. If someone gets hurt again, I won’t be able to heal them.”

“… Oh,” said Laios, caught flat footed by that thought.

“Yeah, ‘oh’,” Chilchuck sighed. “And, I’m too old to go charging into danger unprepared. The two of you aren’t all the way up to snuff either. Why don’t we take this wagon the rest of the way to Phandalin and then come back to investigate? At least that way our two mages will be at full power and you two will be back to full health.”

Laios looked down at the ground, at the two goblins crumbled and bleeding into the dirt, at the two horses still on their sides in the middle of the road. At the blood still crusted into his sword’s blade and his chain mail, still matted into Senshi’s beard and on Falin’s hands and knees.

“Okay,” he said finally. “You’re right. Let’s to Phandalin and come back tomorrow.”

There were mumbles of agreement as Chilchuck, Marcille and Falin went back to the wagon and Laios and Senshi turned back to their original goal of dragging the horses off the road.

“Do you truly think the goblins took my uncle?” Senshi asked as they stood up from pulling the second horse off the road.

“I do,” Laios said. “Horses have a lot more value to goblins than humans or dwarves do. They use them as pack animals and sometimes eat them. If the goblins shot your uncle’s horse, then they wanted him in particular. And, if they wanted him for some reason, then there’s a good chance he’s still alive wherever they’re hiding him.”

Senshi gave Laios a long calculating look before nodding slowly. “Thank you, Laios,” he said gruffly, before turning and walking back to the wagon.

Laios scratched his head for a moment, not sure what he did to deserve thanks. Whatever the reason, at least Senshi seemed reassured.

#delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi #dunmeshi #dungeons & dragons #dnd #d&d #dungeons & dragons au #pov alternating #fanfiction #five idiots look for a cave #wordinggwrites

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disneymbti · 6 months ago

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if you’ve watched “The Good Place” then can you type the main 4 (Eleanor, Chidi, Tahani, Jason)?

Hi there, sweetie! I really hope you like this a lot!

Eleanor Shellstrop's MBTI Type, Big Three, Enneagram Type and Moral Alignment Type

MBTI Type: ESTP [The Entrepreneur]

ESTP types like being around large groups of people, whether they know them or not. They prefer being out in action to being at home by themselves.

They are very observant and detail-oriented people. They are practical and realistic, focusing on the here-and-now.

Entrepreneurs make decisions based in logic. They care more about following the truth than making other people happy.

They avoid schedules, preferring to make plans as they go. They are less aware of time and enjoy being adaptable.

Big Three: Sagittarius Sun, Gemini Moon and Aries Rising

Sagittarius Sun: Sagittarius is governed by the expansive planet Jupiter, and is known for a free-spirited, globe-trotting, philosophical mindset — and wild streak.

Gemini Moon: Ruled by winged messenger, Mercury, Gemini Moons enjoy discussing their complex feelings with others in order to gain a mindful and clear emotional perspective.

Aries Rising: Aries ascendants are known as the go-getters of the zodiac. They don’t let anything stand in their way of achieving their personal goals.

Enneagram Type: 8w7 [The Nonconformist]

Basic Fear: Eight with a seven wing fear being controlled by others. They dislike authority and prefer to work alone.

Basic Desire: Their basic desire is to remain in control of their own lives. They also want other people to be free, and are often advocates for those less able.

Nonconformists defend themselves by denying vulnerability. They don’t want to appear weak and therefore avoid situations that may leave them exposed or defenseless.

Moral Alignment Type: Chaotic Neutral [The Free Spirit]

Free from societal constraints, these characters prioritize their own freedom and make choices based on their whims.

Chidi Anagonye's MBTI Type, Big Three, Enneagram Type and Moral Alignment Type

MBTI Type: INTP [The Logician]

INTPs prefer spending time alone so they can explore their rich inner world, and prolonged exposure to big groups of people can make them feel drained.

Their focus lies more on understanding the big picture than on noticing the tiny details. They want to know how things connect together, which gives them great intuition for solving complex problems.

As the most thinking-oriented of the types, they rely on logic rather than emotion as their main influence in decision making.

An INTP normally likes to keep their options open rather than locking themselves into a commitment. They’re flexible and spontaneous, which allows them to capitalize on opportunities that come available at the 11th hour.

Big Three: Libra Sun, Virgo Moon and Capricorn Rising

Libra Sun: Libra is ruled by the airy part of Venus, making them bon vivants, critical, and artistic — as well as forever stylish.

Virgo Moon: Virgo Moons use their calm nature to gain deep clarity on matters, filtering questions through their kind, but reasonable, lens.

Capricorn Rising: Capricorn ascendants are known for their efforts and diligence when it comes to attaining success and prosperity.

Enneagram Type: 6w5 [The Guardian]

Basic Fear: Sixes with five wings are afraid of losing their guidance and stability. This is often expressed through their skepticism of the world.

Basic Desire: They have a strong desire for security, which they tend to show by protecting themselves and others. They seek close and stable relationships.

Guardians tend to defend themselves by projecting their own feelings onto others, which can often enhance their distrust of the world.

Moral Alignment Type: Lawful Good [The Crusader]

These are characters who believe in truth, honor and order. They always strive to do the right thing, even at a great personal cost.

Tahani Al-Jamil's MBTI Type, Big Three, Enneagram Type and Moral Alignment Type

MBTI Type: ESFJ [The Consul]

As extroverts, Consuls are talkative, energetic, and thrive around people. They prefer not to spend too much time alone.

Highly observant, their focus lies more on the details than on how everything connects together. They trust facts over theories—and they make decisions based on what they can see right now.

ESFJs are feelers who prioritize emotion rather than logic in their decision-making. Empathetic and diplomatic, they do what feels right rather than what makes sense.

They’re structured and organized, preferring to plan ahead so they know what’s going to happen. They like rules, processes and schedules.

Big Three: Leo Sun, Taurus Moon and Libra Rising

Leo Sun: The Sun rules the sign Leo, which is why Leo Suns all about ego, will, and character. They’re known to be creative, playful, and bold.

Taurus Moon: The Moon loves to be in the zodiac sign Taurus. Those with Moon in Taurus delight in the earthly pleasures and seek out emotional security.

Libra Rising: Finding balance in life is essential for Libra risings, who prefer things to be even-keeled and civil.

Enneagram Type: 3w2 [The Enchanter]

Basic Fear: Enneagram type three wing twos are afraid of failing and being unworthy of love. They avoid this by setting and accomplishing goals, in order to feel successful and worthy.

Basic Desire: Their basic desire is to be admired and accepted. They seek value through accomplishment, which may push them deeper into their work.

Enchanters tend to adjust their persona to their audience, in order to feel as though they are easily liked, which may lead to playing a character rather than being themselves.

Moral Alignment Type: Lawful Neutral [The Judge]

These characters are all about order and organization. They strictly follow laws, regardless of whatever it leads to good or evil outcomes.

Jason Mendoza's MBTI Type, Big Three, Enneagram Type and Moral Alignment Type

MBTI Type: ESFP [The Entertainer]

ESFPs are very outgoing and lively people. They thrive in groups and prefer not to spend too much time alone.

They are very observant, focusing closely on the details rather than the grand scheme. They think in terms of the present.

Entertainers tend to prioritize emotion when making decisions, concerning themselves more with how their decisions will affect others. They are empathetic and diplomatic.

They rely more on opportunity than rigid scheduling. They are spontaneous and playful people, with a passion for finding new adventures.

Big Three: Aries Sun, Leo Moon and Sagittarius Rising

Aries Sun: The first sign of the zodiac, Aries is ruled by action planet Mars. When placed as the sun sign, the ram can motivate themselves to face on fears and blow past hesitation.

Leo Moon: Possessing a wellspring of inner warmth, Leo Moons are beyond generous. As an act of love, they’ll shine their light onto those they care about.

Sagittarius Rising: Sagittarius risings are jovial, optimistic, and full of energy. They sparkle with confidence, and you can't help but sparkle back when you're around them.

Enneagram Type: 7w6 [The Pathfinder]

Basic Fear: Sevens with a six wing have a deeply-rooted fear of missing out. They want to be trustworthy and honor commitments, but they also want to leave room to allow for last-minute opportunities.

Basic Desire: Their basic desire is to feel fulfilled and happy. They express this by searching for joy in every small thing that comes their way.

Pathfinders defend themselves by rationalizing away negative feelings. They unconsciously convince themselves that they are happy, even when they are not.

Moral Alignment Type: Chaotic Neutral [The Free Spirit]

Free from societal constraints, these characters prioritize their own freedom and make choices based on their whims.

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electronickingdomfox · 1 year ago

Text

"Yesterday's Son" review

Novel from 1983 by Ann C. Crispin. The author would continue the story in a sequel, a few years later. This one is somewhat different than the average Star Trek novel. For starters, it presents an interesting premise: what if Zarabeth had a son after her encounter with Spock (in the episode "All Our Yesterdays")? And what kind of dad would be Spock? (spoiler: a pretty bad one, at least at first). Thus, the main plot is not about battles in space or encounters with new civilizations, but about the relationship between Spock and his son, and how they overcome their emotional barriers. Of course, there's also a subplot involving Romulans to spice things up, but that's not the meat of the story. And the Romulan threat is there, above all, to strengthen the father-son relationship.

I liked this novel overall. Poignant at times, and with a rather bittersweet (yet satisfying) ending, it offers good character drama. Zar, the son of Spock with Zarabeth, is well developed and sympathetic, and his failed attempts at reaching out to Spock are pretty moving. It's also funny to meet another secret, emotional relative of Spock, years before Sybok appeared in canon.

Spoilers under the cut:

During a casual conversation about Sarpeidon (the now destroyed planet that Zarabeth lived in 5000 years ago), Spock comes across some disturbing photographs of paintings, taken from a cave in the planet before its destruction. The paintings depict a Vulcan face very similar to his own, but with basic differences. So Spock puts two and two together, and realizes how badly he screwed up; some fathers may forget their son in a car, but he forgot his own in an ice cave, five milleniums in the past! Spock decides that it's not fair to abandon his child like this, and convinces Kirk to bring him to the Guardian of Forever, so he can rescue the kid (and Zarabeth if possible).

Since Spock can't get rid of Kirk and McCoy to attend to his family business, the three of them are sent to Sarpeidon's past, around the time when his son was still a kid. The weather is frigid, and after a few days of pointless search and avoiding dangerous beasts, they finally find a trail. Just then, a hooded figure attacks them, but they subdue him, discovering it's actually Zar. They miscalculated while travelling through the Guardian, so instead of a kid, they find a grown-up man in his late twenties (thus too old to pass as Spock's son). Back in the cave, Zar explains that his mother died seven years ago. So completely alone now, and thrilled at the prospect of meeting his father and exploring new worlds, Zar agrees to go to the present with them (it's not like he needs a lot of convincing, anyway).

In the Enterprise, Zar makes some new friends and starts adapting to the modern way of life. However, once the rescue's done, Spock retracts behind his Vulcan wall, and starts being really cold toward his son. He barely shows interest in him, other than giving him lessons in science and teaching him how to control his telepathy (and you thought that Sarek was bad...). Things get even worse when Zar discovers that the warm, passionate Vulcan that his mother talked about, was just the result of Spock suffering a regression in his trip to the past, and that he probably never loved her. Unlike his father, Zar is a much more emotional Vulcan, due in part to his greater human heritage, and he shows a different empathetic ability. He can sense other people's feelings, and he can also project his own feelings on others. Under these conditions, Zar becomes much closer to his other dad McCoy, instead of his own father.

Meanwhile, some Romulan ships have been sighted around the Guardian of Forever's planet. The secret of time-travelling through the Guardian is only known by a few in the Federation, but the Romulans suspect something, and if they learn how to tamper with time, it could be disastrous. Zar starts feeling sick, and finally faints, a feeling he later recognizes as an omen of impending death. He also realizes something while looking at pictures of Sarpeidon's paintings (though we don't know what at this point). Effectively, upon reaching the Guardian's planet, the Enterprise finds the archeological personnel and the first landing party massacred by the Romulans. The intruders have also set a cloaking device around the Guardian, so they can't see how many Romulan soldiers are deployed.

Given his ability to sense the enemies' feelings at a distance, and his survival skills, Zar volunteers to infiltrate the Romulan camp. Spock goes with him, to install a force-field around the Guardian, so the Romulans can't use the portal. However, more Romulan ships are approaching, and Kirk gives them a deadline. If they fail to keep the situation under control, the Enterprise will have to destroy the whole planet, whether Spock and Zar are still there or not (WTF Kirk!!?). During the mission, Spock grows closer to his son, and Zar comes to understand his father's true feelings for him, and why he has such difficulty expressing them.

In the end, the usual status quo has to be restored, so Zar needs to return to his own time. It turns out the painting from Sarpeidon's past that alarmed him so much, was his own drawing of the Enterprise. He's thus the one who brought many technical and scientific developments to his planet, after his experience in the starship. And time-travelling shenanigans are confusing, but I think that an apparent plot hole was properly explained: why did Zar speak English? Of course, it was him who teached the language to the other inhabitants upon returning. So many generations later, Zarabeth would speak it (remember she came from the future in the episode), and would in turn teach it to her son in the past. It's... complicated, but the circle is closed. On the downside, I feel that Zar's departure was a bit rushed. I would have expected a greater resistance from Spock, and definitely from McCoy.

Spirk Meter: 7/10*. They're brief moments, but pretty powerful. First, and despite the statement that Spock can block other people from intruding into his mind, it seems that Kirk has developed the ability to read his thoughts, even at a distance. Kirk also insists on going with Spock through the Guardian, to the point of blackmailing him if he refuses. Later, Zar complains to McCoy that "there's only one person that Commander Spock cares deeply for, and that's... [...]Not me." In the end, and before departing, Zar asks Kirk to "take care of him" (meaning his father). And when Spock hesitates and attempts to follow his son through the portal, Kirk grabs him, and this happens:

"Spock. He doesn't need you." And he wondered if the Vulcan caught the unvoiced addition, "And I... we... do."

At least, poor Zar seems to take well the fact that his dad didn't love his mom, because he has this weird thing going on with his Captain...

More subtle, yet perhaps more interesting, are the Spones elements, even if they seem one-sided on McCoy's part. McCoy joins Spock in his trip to the Guardian in an even more forceful way than Kirk. Basically, he bursts into the turbolift uninvited and with all gear ready, and blackmails both Spock AND the Captain so they bring him along. Then he's pretty worried about Spock's feelings upon meeting his son for the first time. Once back in the ship, McCoy develops a close relationship with Zar, calling him "son" all the time. Which makes Kirk wonder why he acts as if he was his father, instead of Spock. And the doctor argues with Spock about Zar's education, and also reprimands Zar for rebelling against Spock. So it's easy to see a parallel here between Sarek and Amanda, and Spock and McCoy, as a "distant father/loving mother" pair. And it's noteworthy that the author of this novel was in contact with Howard Weinstein (who writes the intro here), since the latter's novel "The Covenant of the Crown" has also Spock and McCoy acting a bit like parents to a young girl. Besides this, Spock wonders about all the people that have tried to be physically close to him. Those include his mother and now his son, of course, but also Leila and... McCoy.

*A 10 in this scale is the most obvious spirk moments in TOS. Think of the back massage, "You make me believe in miracles", or "Amok Time" for example.

#star trek tos #star trek novels #novel review #spirk #k/s #spones

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a-wacky-story-for-you · 4 months ago

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Copper Forest

Running and running and running I ran. Not from anything in particular, no-- just my thoughts. And fears. And the pitchforks in my head.

Running to anything, you ask? Well. Outside.

Running towards my dreams and beauty and the wonders of nature. Running mindlessly.

Running out of my mind to in order to find it.

Running.

Thinking, or the absence of thinking, overly hard, overly much, distracted--

One foot on the ground on the fallen pine needles in the thicket of the forest, one foot on the wet grass after a rain or a morning, one foot slipping, one foot in the air.

A drop, heart plummeting. Vertigo, only real this time.

I really didn’t expect that cliff to be there.

—---

The fall wasn’t really so bad as it had seemed initially, nor as good as it did right before or after that. Some gravel dug into my skin, scrapes, bruises definitely. Twisted joints. Nothing that I need to tell anyone about.

I lay there for a while, catching my breath. I’m sure that wasn’t the right response, but it’s the one I had at that moment. Breathe. Breathing practice, for a bit; in for four, hold for five, out for seven, hold for three again.

This is the part in any story where the main character meets the fae, or the dwarves, or the elves, or the little people who live in the cliff side. I just sat and cried. Cried and cried because one, I was hurt and in pain, and two, I’d been bottling it for a while.

Besides, wasn’t this what I was running for? An outlet, to escape.

—---

It took a few days (weeks, maybe) to return to the cliff, but eventually I did. Most of my blood got washed away by the occasional spring rains but the outlines of where it was remained. I hadn’t noticed how much I’d lost until then. I left without entering the ravine again.

—---

Sometimes you just can’t really feel the beauty of a deciduous pine forest until you’ve been withheld from it for a while. While I loved visiting my family in the city, nothing beats the forests at home. Stepping into them feels like a breath of fresh air, and even though I’m sure it’s just me projecting, I don’t care: forests feel magical to me. They are my religious space.

I went on a long walk today. I’ve been wandering through here since I was five. I have an exceptional internal compass.

I suppose I just got distracted.

I got lost.

—---

I went on a run today. I got lost again.

I don’t think the woods like me anymore.

—---

I went on another run today. I know it was stupid I-- I know. I brought my friend this time. I hoped it would assuage the forest. It was foolish to try to plead with spirits.

She really didn’t expect that cliff to be there. I did this time, I-- I watched her fall and I guess I landed better? The-- the imprints of my blood-- the--

The rocks were still stained with rust from when I fell two months ago, ten feet over from where she fell. I think that when I fell I lost more blood than her.

#If you can't tell #the friend died #tw implied death #ig #wacky's writing #I wrote this one in about september also

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rose-of-oz · 1 year ago

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drop five facts each abt all your Wednesday ocs pls!! (including Esther bc it’s a crime that I don’t know much abt her fr) -🍂

Ahhhh, thank you so much for asking about them, Alvita!! I am also gonna tag @luucypevensie and @dancingsunflowers-ocs since they’re my other Wednesday girlies. <3

We’ll do some facts about Esther first, since she’s my properly-introduced baby:

Given that I don’t think I’ve properly explained Esther’s outcast type to anyone besides Grace, I’ll explain it now: she’s a nephilim! Her mother, the woman who acted as a surrogate for her fathers when they were having her, was herself the daughter of an angel and a human, and because of this Esther is able to tap into a few different angel powers (if not all of the ones available to a nephilim, because Esther is a quarter angel rather than half).

These powers include being able to manipulate and generate light, being able to calm other people’s mental distress simply by projecting calming energy at them, being able to release powerful blasts of light that can cause physical destruction (which is what lead to the collapsed bell tower that got her transferred from her old school to Nevermore), and being able to wield a glowing angel sword by summoning it from the astral realm which is able to destroy demonic creatures (not that Esther has met any of those yet).

Esther’s family is actually pretty rich, with both of her fathers being lawyers and partners in their respective firms (which are actually rival firms, a fact that Esther and her younger brother Maddox find hilarious). Esther doesn’t like showing off or flaunting her family’s money, but she also doesn’t let it stop her from wearing nice clothes and buying her friends expensive gifts on their birthdays or other special occasions.

The St. Claire family also has a golden retriever, which Esther’s fathers rescued as a puppy when Esther was seven and Maddox was three. Esther was allowed to name her and chose the name Reno, after the main character in the musical Anything Goes, because her obsession with classic musicals had started even at that young age. Reno is an absolute sweetheart who always misses Esther whenever she’s away at school, and the entire family absolutely adores her.

Esther has never officially come out as a lesbian to her dads and Maddox - they’ve all pretty much known since Esther was pretty young, and when Esther finally comes home on a school break holding Wednesday and Enid’s hands, everyone just kind of shrugs and welcomes the two girls into their home.

Next, let’s talk about my beloved bitchy lesbian fairy Padma:

Every fairy has an affinity for one of the five forms of elemental magic: fire, water, earth, air, and metal. Padma’s affinity is for fire, because of course it is.

Padma is a twin! Her brother Akshat has an affinity for earth, doesn’t attend Nevermore - he is instead homeschooled as the majority of fairy kids are - and is pretty much the exact opposite of Padma in every way. He’s very quiet and passive, and doesn’t have even a hint of her quick temper.

Like Esther, Padma is also a rich girl (I mean, her family has been around for centuries since fairies live a really long time plus they can literally enchant people), but she is a lot less afraid to show it off. She’s always wearing the latest fashions and has her nails and makeup freshly done, and whenever she gets a coffee from the shop in Jericho she always leaves a twenty dollar tip or something even more because she just has no idea of how much thinks cost.

A really big part of the reason Padma is so determined to compete academically with Bianca for so long is because, deep down, she’s really afraid of people seeing her as just a stupid, pretty rich girl, when she’s actually wickedly smart and cunning. She’d rather rip out her own teeth than admit this, though, or at least it takes her a long time after they even start dating for her to admit it to Bianca.

Sometimes when Eugene’s not around and she’s stressed, Padma will go to the spot where he keeps his bees and just chill with them to calm herself down. Fairies, being forest creatures by nature, have an innate connection with all plants and insects, even if they don’t have an earth magic affinity, and Eugene’s bees really like Padma and will often bump against her face to say hello to her.

Now let us talk about Gus, my beloved stoner werewolf:

Despite werewolves very rarely maintaining canine characteristics when they’re in human form, Gus very much does - he always gets incredibly excited when someone he likes returns after being gone, even if they were only gone for a few minutes, and if you scratch a certain spot behind his ear he will just melt into a happy puddle.

Gus is also insanely clingy and affectionate when he’s high, and it doesn’t even really matter who it is he’s clinging to; if you’re close by and not already hugging or cuddling someone, you can expect a lap full of Gus, burrowing his head into your shoulder and giving you a bunch of compliments in a hazy voice.

Gus has had a bi flag hung up above his bed in his Nevermore dorm since he first arrived at the school. His first roommate, a haughty psychic who came from a super rich family, made a douchey comment about it, and it didn’t even take a whole week for Gus to report the incident to Weems and get his roommate expelled (Nevermore, thankfully, has a very strict no-discrimination policy). He doesn’t really care if people insult him, but he was not about to let the guy think that kind of behavior was okay and risk him repeating it with someone else.

As kind of a surprise given his general sunny disposition, Gus actually really likes true crime podcasts. On most given nights when there’s not some kind of get-together he needs to provide weed for, you can find him sitting on the window seat in his dorm room, smoking a joint with the window open and with his phone playing a podcast beside him.

Gus’s first kiss was actually with Yoko; it was at a little party thrown for Ajax’s birthday freshman year, after Yoko’s spin landed on Gus during a game of Spin the Bottle. The kiss was really quick, but it was also nice, and Gus is pretty proud to say it was his first kiss (and to tease Yoko about her supposedly wanting to kiss him again, which she always rolls her eyes at him for).

Speaking of Yoko, let’s finish these facts off with her new girlfriend, Holly:

I’m still not going to reveal exactly what Holly is just yet (you know, Alvita, of course, but I’d like to keep it a bit of a secret still), but I can tell you with absolute certainty that she hates it about herself. Despite attending a school full of what most people would consider “monsters,” Holly sees herself as an actual monster, and would give almost anything not to be the way she is.

What she is has also caused a lot of problems between her and her family, and as such, she’s one of only a handful of students who stay at Nevermore year-round, not going home for the holidays or summer break, which only serves to add to the layers of mystery and fear that most Nevermore students have around her.

Holly very nearly gives Xavier a heart attack the first time she speaks to him, after Wednesday defeats the Hyde and she decides to start trying to make friends - which, consequently, is the first time she’s really spoken to another person since coming to Nevermore. He nearly winds up falling off a balcony, she scares him so much, which Holly feels really bad about, but he’s also quick to reassure her about it and strike up a genuine conversation with her.

During the time when she kept to herself and didn’t speak, Holly would usually keep herself busy with embroidering various things, which she learned from her grandmother. She’s incredibly good at it, and even gifts Yoko a handkerchief embroidered with a quote from Dracula for their first anniversary.

Holly’s favorite holiday was always Halloween when she was a kid (coming from a family and a very long line of outcasts, it was kind of inevitable), but due to some very significant reasons from her past she can hardly stand it anymore. She now throws all of the energy she used to put towards Halloween into celebrating Christmas, and though of course everyone around her notices how much she avoids Halloween, they’ve learned by now not to question it.

Thanks again for asking me about my babies!! Love you!! <3

#asks about my ocs #oc: esther st claire #oc: padma bakshi #oc: gus becerra #oc: holly millway

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fancyfeathers · 2 years ago

Text

Society of Protection (Yandere Bungo Stray Dogs x reader x original characters) (normalized yandere au)

Chapter Twelve

Poisoned Apple

Prologue and oc intro

Chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter six

Chapter seven, part one

Chapter seven, part two

Chapter eight

Chapter nine

Chapter ten

Chapter eleven

The next few days felt like a fever dream to you, apparently the Guild’s headquarters, the Moby Dick almost crashed in Yokohama. There was still no word from or about Miss Jane which unnerving to say the least for you all. The next few weeks came and gone and life felt normal, a few members of the society returned to Europe to visit family and friends, Emma, William, Henrik, and Lewis, they would be back at the end of the month. So now that leaves you, Dr. Stevenson, Victor, Alexandre, and Gaston alone here.

Dr. Stevenson and Alexandre were heading out for the weekend, going up to Tokyo to visit an old friend of the doctor’s, and Victor had been invited on a project to help with repairs after the Guild incident so you hardly saw him anyway. So this weekend it was just you and Gaston. You all had returned to the apartment complex now and so you now had your apartment that you shared with Miss Jane all to yourself now, but you didn’t like staying there, too lonely. So now you sat in Gaston’s lounge, he sat on a stood, playing the violin, while you read over the news, then you saw something.

“Hey Gaston.”

“Hm?”

“I think you should take a look at this.” You waved him over and he set his violin down and walked over, glancing over your shoulder. “It seems that gifted are committing suicide with their abilities after a strange fog.”

Gaston’s eyes narrowed as you spoke before he reached up and closed the lid of your computer. “Best not to worry about that, stressing will give you grays.”

You set your laptop aside and gazed out the window, it was raining pretty hard. Gaston’s eyes followed yours, he then looked around the apartment and ran his finger along the bookshelf behind you, not a spec of dust. He smiles and then looked to you. “Say I have an idea. We pack a lunch, go to your father’s estate, start cleaning, find what we can on where he may be, have lunch, bring a book, like an indoor picnic.”

“That sounds pretty fun actually.” You smiled and stood up from your chair, taking his hand he offered you.

“Then let’s be off, my lady.”

—————————

You arrived at your father’s old estate at around noon. You took the key Miss Jane had left you and unlocked the door to the old building, and it was as dusty as ever. Gaston stepped in the hall after you, sipping around to take it all in. “Reminds me of Dr. Stevenson’s manor back in London.”

“I’d love to visit one day.” You replied to his comment as you went to sit over on the staircase, setting the picnic basket and blanket you had brought next to you. “But this place is probably a lot more dusty.”

“Certainly, I honestly couldn’t imagine the doctor letting dust gather on anything.” He laughed to himself and walked towards you, hands in his pockets. “Well then, shall we get started?”

“We shall.”

So you and Gaston began exploring the rooms together, one by one. You showed each other what you found, strange objects left behind from your father that might have been important on a case of his once upon a time. Books in his study were unorganized but looking at them there was no way to organize them for they were all so different. Gaston found photos of your father and uncle along with another individual names “Dr. Watson” your father’s assistant, from what the old stories about him read. You also managed to find older documents from your father that you left inclined to read, they were about his old cases that he took when he was here in Yokohama. Both of you forgot that you came to clean as soon as you walked through the door, there was just so much to look at and see.

So now, hours had passed and now you and Gaston sit on the floor of the main entry, the blanket beneath you as you opened the picnic basket and ate the meal you two had packed, sandwiches, fresh strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, pears, and two apples.

“Strange to think he just left this all behind.” You said, pushing a berry past your lips. Gaston shrugged as he took a bite of a pear slice.

“Your father was a strange man.”

You laughed at that comment as you picked up one of the apples and took a bite…

Footsteps… walking down the hall

Gaston looked away from you alarmed by the noise, someone was here. His hands rested on his revolver as he stood up, looking around worriedly. “Did you hear that?”

You were to occupied to worry about the question, you eyes were fixed on the bite mark of the apple you just ate from, the fresh was black… it was poisoned. Your mind tried to process if you or Gaston packed this, was it slipped into your bag? If so when? You went to call Gaston’s name but all that came up out was coughs and wheezes as you tried to gasp for breath. You fell to the floor and Gaston was quick to kneel besides you. “(Name)! (Name)!”

Your vision was hazy now and you were just able to see the poisoned apple roll out of your hand and onto a ground where a figure out of the shadows came forth and picked it up.

Gaston’s eyes were wide with horror as he stared at the figure who held the apple, but the figure merely smiled as Gaston was finally able to speak out his name.

“Fyodor.”

Gaston’s eyes flicked between your unconscious body and Fyodor, standing over the two of you. Gaston tried shaking you awake as the Russian man stepped even closer but it didn’t work.

“Oh ангел музыки, she won’t wake up.” The Russian man spoke, kneeling down to Gaston’s level. Fyodor reached out and brushed the hair out of your face. “Not without me that is.”

Gaston raised up his revolver to rest in between Fyodor’s eyes. There was only a look of pure range on his face. “Wake her up or I will kill you.”

Fyodor’s smile only widened. “Shoot me at this distance with that old gun and you will blow your own hand off along with whatever damage would happen to her.”

Gaston didn’t lower the gun until Fyodor reached out, grabbed the barrel of the gun and lowered it himself. “So I have to play your game to wake her up, don’t I?”

Fyodor nodded and reached out for the untouched apple that was left and held it in front of Gaston to take. “It doesn’t hurt that badly if that’s what you’re worried about. All will be well when you awake.”

“Or I’ll be dead.” Gaston said grabbing the apple from him and looking it over. Gaston brought it to his lips with shaking hands, the composer’s eyes dead locked onto Fyodor’s twisted smile. With all the courage he could muster Gaston bit down on the apple, the flesh of it black like before. He was sent into a coughing fit just like you when he swallowed. He was gasping for breath as he fell into unconsciousness, his breathing heavy as Fyodor looked down at you two, wearing the same twisted smile.

—————————

You awoke with with a pounding headache and your body felt so incredibly stiff, like you had been asleep for days. Your vision was burly and it took a long moment for things to come into focus, you were laying in bed that wasn’t yours, in a room that wasn’t yours, dressed in clothes that you couldn’t see but knew aren’t yours. You tried to move but your muscles wouldn’t respond. The most you could manage was letting your turn fall to the side to see Gaston laying in an identical bed, asleep, dressed in clothes that weren’t his, and now you could also see an IV attached to your arm and one to his own. You could see a table in between the two of you, it had items and nicknacks from your pocket and Gaston’s glasses, but no weapons. When you went to open your mouth only a cough came out, your throat was like sandpaper, how long had you been out?

“Ahh мышь, you’re awake.” You heard a voice from behind you, Russian in origin. You heard a book close followed by footsteps approaching you. You felt a gentle gloved hand reach over and hold your cheek, bringing your face to face him. Before you there was a handsome man, he had black, mid length hair, dressed in white. “Do you know who I am?”

You couldn’t speak and your mind was too foggy to think but you managed to mouth the word no. He chuckled and ran his gloved thumb along your cheek. “My name is Fyodor Dostoevsky, my dear.” He watched as horror formed in your eyes at the mention of his name and his smile grew in his amusement. He leaned down so that his faces was only an inch away from your own. “I see you have heard of me, I have watched you for quite sometime and I promise you this is only the beginning of our game.”

He bent down to press his lips against your own. His lips felt rough and forceful, not kind and gentle like his touch. He reached over and pulled out the IV in your arm which made you wince in pain but he shushed, cooed, a kissed away your tears. He wrapped his arms around you and picked your limp body and carried you over to the arm chair he had been sitting in. With this new position you could see what you were wearing, a long white skirt, a black turtleneck, a white sweater, and white mary janes. He sat you down in his lap and took the book from the side table and opened it, you couldn’t read it because it was in Russian. He sat with you for what felt like hours and the only thing he said was. “Soon, it will begin.”

You didn’t know what “it” was but frankly you didn’t care, you just wanted to get Gaston and get the hell out of here. Soon you heard a groan from Gaston’s lips and your eyes shot over to the man who was coming back to consciousness. Unlike you he had at least some control of his limbs, must be all his endurance from his work with the society. He sat up in his bed his hand unconsciously searching for his glasses in the nightstand, you could now see at least the top of his outfit clearly, a white ruffled shirt, a white vest, a white jacket, white pants, but a bright red tie, it felt off for Gaston to be dressed in such things given his normal attire and personality. You heard a small hum from Fyodor as he also noticed the composer’s state.

“Good to see you awake as well, Leroux.” Fyodor said as Gaston slipped on his glasses and ripped out his IV which made you cringe. “I see you are as alive as every.”

“I wish I was dead.” Gaston was quick to snap back as he stepped out of bed, but having to catch his balance on the footboard. He paused in his tracks and looked around. “We’re in Mukurotoride, aren’t we?”

Fyodor smiled and nodded, setting his book aside. “That would be correct, I brought you two here so you will be… safe from what is to come.”

“Safe?” You finally spoke, asking a simple question. “Safe from what?”

A low chuckle emerged from Fyodor as he looked at you with those violet eyes. “You were reading the story, gifted committing suicide, the fog…”

Then it clicked for both you and Gaston. The fog is coming to Yokohama and someone is behind this all.

Fyodor noticed the expression on your faces and hummed, brushing his fingers through your hair before standing up and helping you stand along with him. Your legs felt jello but Fyodor rested a hand on both your forearms and hip, keeping you from falling. Once you caught your balance he let go, letting you stand on your own. He walked forward, towards the door in the room and unlocked it with a key in his coat pocket. He glanced over his shoulder at Gaston and you. “Don’t try using your gifts to escape, призрак and мышь. I think you’ll find your abilities have left you.”

“What do you mean?” You asked, concern coming across your face. Fyodor only smiled.

“You’ll see in due time. I’m sure my collaborators would be happy to explain when you meet them, but for now there are preparations to be made.” Fyodor said as he stepped out into the hall and you heard the click of the lock behind him.

Gaston fell onto his bed with a heavy sigh and you came and curled up next to him. “I’m sorry (Name), I have failed you. I let him get to you.”

“We didn’t expect it, Gaston. He took us by surprise.” You yawned in between words and so did he. “We’ll just have to be our own knights in shining armor, get ourselves out of here, escape the dragon.”

Gaston gave a weak smile and took off his glasses once more. “Yes, but I suppose for now we should get some more rest.”

“Agreed.”

You cuddled up next to him and just as you were slipping into sleep’s hold you heard his voice sing, beautiful, gentle, and careful…

“Think of me fondly

When we've said goodbye

remember me once in awhile

promise me you'll try

on that day that not so distant day when you are far away and free

if you ever find a moment spare a thought for me.”

#yandere bungo stray dogs x reader #yandere bungou stray dogs #yandere bsd #original character x reader #bungou stray dogs oc #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #yandere dazai #yandere chuuya #yandere mark twain #yandere mori ougai #yandere Fukuzawa #Yandere Edgar Allan Poe #Yandere John Steinbeck #yandere fyodor

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sondheim-girly · 3 months ago

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okay straight up. for the outsiders ask game. all of them. If you so wish.

Answered all but the ones i did in another ask lmaoooo

1.(Have u read other se Hinton books)

Yep! Ive read that was then this is now, Tex, and rumblefish.

2. (What are ur feelings on the book)

I LOVE ITTTT I read it at the end of every month and I have since august, I just think it’s so incredible and theres so much to dissect.

3.(fav character outside main seven)

MARCIA MARCIA MARCIA MARCIAAAAA

5.(fav ships)

Say it with me… marbit!!!! I also love cherrycola, sharkcard, cherrybomb, and Martrip

6.(ships I dislike)

I’m not a huge jally fan, but that’s just cuz I’m primarily a musical fan and their brother dynamic is super played up in the musical, so it feels weird for me to ship them

8.(how did u get into the outsiders)

I like listening to every new musical on Broadway, and so when I saw someone on tumblr post about how the cast recording had been released a couple of minutes ago, I decided to listen to it. And I got hooked.

9.(fav scene/moment from the book)

Ohhh this is hard… I really love the end of the book with sodas breakdown and then Johnnys letter… in terms of the musical the drive in song might be my favorite part cuz it’s so fun and the music slaps

10.(least favorite scene/moment)

In the book it might be the slapping scene? But like that’s just cuz it’s pretty short and pales in comparison to how the scene is done in the musical (let’s call the feds! Out in the world! That’s a Soc girl! The entirety of ritfr is literally life changing!!!!)

In the musical my least favorite scene is probably Johnnys death? I could still write paragraphs about why I love it, but it’s a very short scene and like doesnt have as many standout moments maybe? I still fucking love it more than life itself tho

11.(opinion on the movie)

Ok the regular version of the movie lowkey makes me mad cuz it feels like so much is missing, but I really like the novel cut or whatever it’s called!! Ive only seen it like twice tho so I can’t say I’m a huge fan.

12.(have u seen the tv show and what did u think of it)

I’ve seen a couple of episodes and I still watch it from time to time. I think it’s horrific but in a super funny way and I love it for that. I spend the entire time watching it just yelling at the screen saying “THIS SHOW IS AWFUL!!” Or “OH MY GOD THAT GUY IS GAY!!! DONT MAKE HIM LIKE A WOMAN HE IS GAY!!!”

13.(most well written character)

I actually have no idea lol

15.(five self indulgent headcanons)

-Marcia has naturally curly hair

-Marcia is half Irish

-Marbit notebook au (iykyk)

-all of my headcanons on two bits sister

-especially her being a theater kid

16.(characters youd want to interact)

Cherry and soda. Yeah.

17.(criticisms or salt with the book)

All the stuff with native Americans

18.(criticisms or salt with the fandom)

The musical fandom on TikTok? Yeah I’m beefing with some of yall. But like the fandom on here? Sometimes I feel like we blow small problems that we see wayyy out of proportion until I’ll see people posting paragraphs and paragraphs complaining about issues in the fandom that ive never even seen??? And that confuses me a ton.

19.(opinion on se Hinton)

I don’t really have an opinion on her? She wrote some incredible books, that’s my opinion on her.

20.(character you relate to most)

Gee I wonder (it’s Marcia ofc. Tho maybe that’s just cuz of how much I project onto her)

22.(minor character you projected a whole new personality onto)

Marcia and trip and two bits sister, mostly.

23.(opinion on the musical)

Haha. I sure wonder. (I think it’s perfect in every way)

24.(hopes for the musical and what you don’t want to happen)

I hope that they make parry make out before the rumble.

25.(do u plan to watch the musical)

I’ve seen it three times and will be seeing it as much as I can when I’m in New York next September

#jean has thoughts #the outsiders musical #the outsiders broadway

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dascarecrow · 1 year ago

Text

Build The Roster - Injustice 3 (DLC)

And with that we arrive at the conclusion of this Build The Roster project. And we're going to wrap things up with one of the most exciting parts of any fighting game roster. The DLC.

Before we do anything with this we have to determine how many DLC characters there are going to be. Considering Netherrealm Studios has been implementing progressively larger numbers of DLC characters since they started doing such a thing we're going to have to speculate a little on just how many characters are going to get in for post-launch. We'll settle on 15 being the magic number this time, going by the rate of progression we've seen for DLC numbers.

Now that that is out of the way we're going to detour a bit to discuss exactly how the DLC is going to work. With 15 prospective fighters we're going to go with a pattern in regards to who gets in. That is going to be 5 packs of 3 characters with those characters consisting of 1 hero, 1 villain and 1 guest character for each pack.

Now that we've gotten that out of the way let's get on with the actual choices, which are made up of...

Superboy

He's had a prominent role in the extended media for the games and his tactile telekinesis could make for a fascinating moveset.

Metallo

Decided to put another Superman villain in the game and we need a follow up to that stage cameo.

He-Man

There was already an Injustice comic crossover with He-Man so why not put him in a game already. Not to mention the Masters of the Universe property has been on the rise lately.

Donna Troy

Wanted to put one of the Wonder Girls in the game and Donna would give us that.

Deathstroke

If the main five Titans are going to be in the game then we need to bring back the Titans enemy. Plus we need an assassin in the roster.

Reptile

It's basically tradition to have a Mortal Kombat guest character and after Scorpion and Sub-Zero he's the most iconic ninja from that franchise.

Tempest

I like his powers which could become a phenomenal moveset and it gives us another Titan and someone else from Atlantis.

Despero

Basically the same reason as Deathstroke, if the founding seven members of the Justice League are in the game then a Justice League villain would be all too fitting.

Judge Dredd

With Hellboy and Spawn already having been used as DLC before by Netherrealm Judge Dredd is one of the few well known comic book characters that could be seen in an Injustice game.

Doctor Light

Just a personal favorite of mine who has unique light powers that could be fun to see in a fighting game.

Larfleeze

We've had the Sinestro Corps and the Red Lanterns show up so why not complete the trifecta with the Orange Lantern holder Larfleeze?

Space Ghost

Another personal favorite of mine who has a variety of beam-based attacks that would be perfect for a fighting game.

Adam Strange

Just a character that I like and think could be a cool addition to the roster.

Sabbac

Decided to throw in a Shazam enemy. Mostly for being a left field pick that people wouldn't be expecting.

And finally we have...

The Power Rangers!

After the Ninja Turtles got in all the rules went out the window and as a Power Rangers fan I would love to see them join the world of Injustice.

And with that we have reached the end of this Build The Roster. Feel free to read and review and let me know if you agree with my choices or feel different ones should have been made.

#Build The Roster #Injustice #DLC

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kitcheninaman · 2 years ago

Note

tell me all about ur OCs RN!!!!! /nf

AHH OKAY. THIS WILL BE LONG SORRY BUT IM GONNA TELL U ABOUT THE LUCASWORLD CAST BC ITS SIMPLER THAN IF LOL (if u wanna hear about IF feel free to ask it might just. take time)

lucasworld is the nickname for the novel im writing but the current working title is Middle Of The Road. the main characters are:

Lucas Dixon

Noah Campbell

Lin McAster

Odin Lester

Madison Harpham

there are 3 others (crya, finn, and holly) but they're sadly not all that relevant. they also (mostly) have parents who make varied appearances. lucas noah and lin are 16, odin is 17, and madison is 18.

theyre all trans guys apart from madison who is a cis girl (unless you ask my bf he is adamant she has tgirl swag). the interesting thing with odin is that it isnt revealed that hes transgender until quite far into the book, for various reasons.

lucas and lin are the Main Characters, most of the book alternates between their povs, but occasionally odin gets a chapter because he's my Baby Boy.

important information about lucas: he's about five foot seven, he has shitty brown hair and wire-framed round glasses. he tried to cut his own hair once and it never fully recovered. he loves car seat headrest, he's anxious all of the time, and his biggest flaw is how much he projects his own issues onto others.

important information about lin: he's about five foot five, has silver hair in a middle part which he dyes exclusively with the cheapest box dye he can find, and he's very scottish. his mummy issues r what make him funny. he loves listening to music in the woods, he gets hatecrimed literally daily, and his biggest flaw is he either thinks too much or too little. no in-between.

important information about noah: he's about five foot eight, has a blond mullet which lucas would DIE for, and he's very pale. pale to the point he looks like a ghost... i wonder why. he likes lucas, lying about being dead (he is), and his biggest flaw is the fact he died.

important information about odin: he's about five foot ten, has greasy black hair he slicks back awfully, and is literally always wearing a shitty leather jacket. he thinks he's literally JD from heathers but cooler. he likes planes, bullying lin, and his biggest flaw is his INSANE internalised transphobia.

important information about madison: shes about five foot eight, and has brown hair which she likes to keep down but is forced to keep up for school. her dad is the mayor and shes not very good at relating to normal people. she likes psychology, penelope scott, and her biggest flaw is that she treats odin like a science experiment rather than a friend.

anyway can u guess which of them kiss (on the mouth)

thank you SO much for asking i really love talking about my sillies :) please ask more if you think of anything else!!!! id love to share!!!!!

#oc posting #long post #lin and odin #my ocs #ocs #ask

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lunarsilver · 2 years ago

Text

What awaits you in December?

As always, choose the picture or number you feel most drawn to.

REMEMBER

I’m not a doctor, a psychiatrist, a therapist nor a psychologist. Tarot readings will never replace meetings with them.

It’s a general reading, so not everything will resonate.

If you can’t choose between two piles, probably both of them have some messages for you. You can also not identify with any of them and that’s okay too.

Readings can help you make a decision, but they shouldn’t be the main reason of making it.

1 ~ 2 ~ 3

PILE 1

Theme (Major Arcana only): The Lovers – Back of the Deck: The Empress

More info: Ace of Pentacles (R) – Ace of Cups (R) – The Fool – Back of the Deck: Seven of Swords (R)

Oh man, so many cards related to new beginnings!

The theme of your December will be relationships and feminity (regardless of your gender). The deck I used for this part of the reading futures characters from a certain game – both of them are young girls being in touch with who they are and what they want (maybe some of you play Genshin Impact and Barbara or Fischl are somehow special for you). There’s this stepping into your power and embracing who you are. Even if some may think your hobbies or how you express yourself is weird or cringe, there is also a lot people out there that would adore you and appreciate what you do for them.

As I said at the beginning, the second part of the reading kinda shocked me, literally all of the cards except the one at the back talk about some sort of a new start, pretty straightforward. This December is a whole new beginning, why wait for the new year. Be careful, there’s some chance you can miss if you won’t act. Plan ahead. There will be some looking into yourself, understanding your emotions. Do you have an imposter syndrome? There will be harder moments, but The Fool heralds a new beginning, stepping into your power and having fun with discovering new things. Seriously, getting to know yourself better and embracing it just keeps popping up. A truly „stop cringing, embrace the cringe” message.

Kinda an afterthought, but your relationships with family can be important, most likely with your parents and/or siblings, especially with your (older) sister.

PILE 2

Theme (Major Arcana only): Death (R) – Back of the Deck: The World

More info: Queen of Wands (R) – Three of Pentacles – Five of Pentacles – Back of the Deck: Knight of Wands

Looks like you will experience some blockages and stagnancy, but it’s also pretty clear this December is all about your inner self: seeking closure and inner transofrmation. It isn’t really about outer world, more about you yourself. Maybe some of you will feel a little stuck in your spirituality or disconnected from your ancestors/spirits. In case any of you plays Genshin Impact, I used a deck with characters from it for this part of the reading and the ones on your cards are Hu Tao and Paimon, maybe they’re somehow significant to you.

Now, going more into details – we have Wands and Pentacles here, fire and earth. Do you plan to visit some older building, all in white and beige, maybe abandoned, full of plants? Pretty specific, but it came to my mind when I was looking at the pictures of the Pentacles cards, they have both a pretty similar vibe, calming and kinda mysterious. A museum? Renaissance vibes.

Yeah, this Queen of Wands in reverse? That’s what I was talking about earlier, you concentrate energy on yourself now. You may spend more time alone, to understand yourself better. However! It doesn’t mean you won’t have people around you, after all we have two cards from the Court here. You will work on some project together. Remember about clear communication with each other. Nearer the end of December you can have some struggles; save some money for sure, and remember to have reliable people around you. You know, if you ever feel lonely, remember it’s always temporary. Knight of Wands says you’ve got it! You have this passion and determination, pile 2, you can do this! Oops, the Knight slided out of the pile and The Lovers showed up from under it. So, there was this feeling in me that for some of you The Knight can actually represent someone else that will be important for you during December, and I feel like these Lovers kinda confirm it. Some bond, maybe? As if this Knight was about to bring a precious relationship, you are the queen and someone else is the knight – for some, of course. Alternatively, it’s a confirmation of my words: you will do it. Some choices are to be made, and you have the fire in you to make it.

PILE 3

Theme (Major Arcana Only): The Tower – Back of the Deck: Justice

More info: The Hanged Man – King of Pentacles – Six of Swords – Back of the Deck: Knave of Wands (R)

Okay, guys, some major, sudden change, a big event or process that can be hard for you to handle. After The Tower usually something better comes to us, so keep it in mind when it won’t be easy for you. This change is related to what Justice represents: clarity and truth, cause and effect, Justice doesn’t take anybody’s shit. Whatever it is, justice will be served. For some, it can be more literal, be about law. For others, maybe someone who treated you unfair or bullied you is going to deal with the consequences. If you feel like you can be the bad guy in someone’s scenario, it’s time to change. Wow, sorry for being so serious here, just gotten into this mood after seeing the cards. In case any of you plays Genshin Impact, I used a deck with characters from it for this part of the reading and the ones on your cards are Raiden Shogun and Jean, maybe they’re somehow important to you. Some problems with keeping balance in your life?

Moving on, the beginning of this December is about letting go, stopping for a moment, reflecting, looking from a different perspective. It looks like you will be in your power, pile 3! Money, work – you have this under control. Maybe you will be some kind of a leader. Working on some passion project? There’s this stability and reliability in you, even thought different things can be frustrating. Remember to be patient. The end of the December will bring you a transition of some kind, leaving something behind – probably The Tower will be in ruin by now and you will start something new, better than what this Tower was. We have here Major Arcana, Pentacles, Swords and Wands, we only lack Cups (I actually saw a reversed King of Cups while shuffling but it didn’t pop out) – this can signalize a disconnection from feelings. Remember to give yourself some time to think about why you feel a certain way.

#pac reading #pac #free tarot reading #tarot reading #tarot #witchbrl #pick a pile #pick a card reading #pick a picture #pick a card #december #december 2022 #monthly divination reading

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jarognieva · 2 years ago

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Okay so today I want to talk about this pretty girl:

It is called Celestial Centipende or Fluorescent Flower and we can find it in Byrgenwerth and Chalice Dungeons. In my opinion this name suggest it's just mix of big space bug and a plant. But considering Bloodborne is highly inspired by Lovecraftian stories, I think Celestial Centipendes might be an ancient intelligent beings.

I realised they are similar to the Old Ones (Don't confuse with Great Ones!) from At the Mountains of Madness. The Old Ones are ancient beings who came from the cosmos and created life on our planet. Their civillization was very advanced when they started to colonize the Earth but it started to degradate through time and finally completely disappeared. In the story main characters find well-preserved remains of a few Old Ones on Antartica. Old Ones are not EXACTLY like Celestial Centipendes, but there are a few distinguishing marks that are very similar to them. Here is an extract from a description of one of these beings (fragments that remind Celestial Centipendes are bold):

Objects are eight feet long all over. Six-foot, five-ridged barrel torso three and five-tenths feet central diameter, one foot end diameters. Dark gray, flexible, and infinitely tough. Seven-foot membranous wings of same color, found folded, spread out of furrows between ridges. Wing framework tubular or glandular, of lighter gray, with orifices at wing tips. Spread wings have serrated edge. Around equator, one at central apex of each of the five vertical, stave-like ridges are five systems of light gray flexible arms or tentacles found tightly folded to torso but expansible to maximum length of over three feet. Like arms of primitive crinoid. Single stalks three inches diameter branch after six inches into five substalks, each of which branches after eight inches into small, tapering tentacles or tendrils, giving each stalk a total of twenty-five tentacles

Surely Centipendes do not have wings, and their "legs" are more like arthropod legs than tentacles but look at concept art:

These things around the "mouth" remind more tentacles than legs, aren't they?

At top of torso blunt, bulbous neck of lighter gray, with gill-like suggestions, holds yellowish five-pointed starfish-shaped apparent head covered with three-inch wiry cilia of various prismatic colors. Head thick and puffy, about two feet point to point, with three-inch flexible yellowish tubes projecting from each point. Slit in exact center of top probably breathing aperture. At end of each tube is spherical expansion where yellowish membrane rolls back on handling to reveal glassy, red-irised globe, evidently an eye.

Exept for yellow color and an eye, it seems quite similar, I think.

Five slightly longer reddish tubes start from inner angles of starfish-shaped head and end in saclike swellings of same color which, upon pressure, open to bell-shaped orifices two inches maximum diameter and lined with sharp, white tooth like projections—probably mouths. All these tubes, cilia, and points of starfish head, found folded tightly down; tubes and points clinging to bulbous neck and torso. Flexibility surprising despite vast toughness. At bottom of torso, rough but dissimilarly functioning counterparts of head arrangements exist. Bulbous light-gray pseudo-neck, without gill suggestions, holds greenish five-pointed starfish arrangement.

Tough, muscular arms four feet long and tapering from seven inches diameter at base to about two and five-tenths at point. To each point is attached small end of a greenish five-veined membranous triangle eight inches long and six wide at farther end. This is the paddle, fin, or pseudofoot which has made prints in rocks from a thousand million to fifty or sixty million years old.

I know that some parts of description don't correspond with Celestial Centipendes' appearance, but I think it might be possible that they're inspired by the Old Ones because it wouldn't be the first Lovecraftian reference in Bloodborne. What if summoning a meteor is not just weird superpower holding by a cosmic beast but an equivalent of the Call Beyond? What if they're not just a weird creatures from the dungeons, but the last from their kind? The kind which civilization vanished millions of years before Ptumerians, Loran and Isz. History likes to repeat, especially in Bloodborne, so I believe they were using Old Blood and trying to communicate with the Great Ones too.

#bloodborne #bloodborne lore #celestial centipende #fluorescent flower #bloodborne headcanon #fromsoftware #lovecraft #lovecraftian #cosmic horror #bloodborne thoughts #my post

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creativestalkerrs · 3 years ago

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the first ten pages

I posted this on my Substack blog as well, subscribe to that for more content. Apart of creativestalkerr’s writing lessons.

notes are taken from Kevin Kawa’s Skillshare class ‘The First Ten Pages,”

writing your first ten pages of your screenplay and making them the most important pages to write.

This lesson is more about the format of screenwriting and screenplays. The first ten pages are by far the most important to your script and should have extra care put into them. The reason why the first ten pages are crucial to your script is for time.

If you send a script, agents, producers, and even casual consumers want to be hooked on your ten pages so they want to read the rest of your story. Rejection is a huge part of the film industry, so you want to pull them in.

Executives Read Because:

Marketability: Is this going to grab the attention of viewers?

Castability: Would people want to audition for this project?

Genre: What type of story is this? How can it be made?

Budget: How much would this cost to produce?

Often, executives don’t need to read the whole script to know of its for them or not. The first ten pages can make or break it.

Five Major Rules: We’ll go into detail for each rule and how you can reveal them in your first 10 pages, but the five rules include;

Establish your genre

Introduce the main character(s) and possibly other major characters

Clarify the world and the status quo

Indicate the theme or the message

Set up the dramatic situation

Establish Genre: Genre is the easiest to reveal, however, it’s also overlooked. You want a good understanding of film genre and sub-genre to help meet your consumer's expectations. There are seven major film genres that you find in film and that being;

Seven Major Genres:

Action and Adventure

Comedy

Drama

Horror

Mystery and Suspense

Romance

Science Fiction and Fantasy

Before even writing, you want to know what genre your story and or screenplay is. When you do know what genre you’ll be writing in, make sure it is stated and clear. Know the convention of the genre you choose both visually as well as the story elements.

Explore your genre and play around with it. If you love your genre, it can make everything else so much easier to write. Write what you know and love, but don’t let it limit you. Play around with it!

Introduce Your Characters: The first character you want to think about introducing in your first ten pages is your protagonist. Although they don’t have to be the very first character that we see, we should see them within those first ten pages. While doing this think about introducing characters that are severe to the story--that are also important overall.

What is an Active Protagonist?: When creating your protagonist, you want to have a goal they have in your story. They should be able to work on that very goal. However, you also want to think of obstacles for them to overcome so they can finally obtain their goal and has the opportunity to do so.

Create a protagonist that meets those key points and the story will actively unfold because of them and their action and not because something is happening to them. Make them an active part of your story instead of them standing outside of it.

You want your protagonist to be an unforgettable character.

Tips for the First Ten Pages:

When writing in your protagonist, you want your consumer to truly care about them, they hope that they obtain their goals but fear they might fall short of them.

When writing, depending on how you have written your main character, your consumer should feel empathetic or sympathetic for them. But keep in mind that not every character deserves this, at least not yet. An example of this is an anti-hero. But you still want to be a little empathetic to them and their plight while writing.

Know everything about your main character. Know internally and externally, know their wants and their needs. These details can help your consumer relate to them and their cause.

Your main character cannot exist without conflict. You need enough for them to overcome it.

Creative weakness for your character. Your consumer can fear that they might not reach their goal because of it

Even better if they might not know/are oblivious to their own weakness or identical about it.

NOTE: Weaknesses and flaws need to be evident within the first ten pages. Later on, you understand your ability to emotionally engage your consumer.

While writing your character at their weakest point, you want to poke at them. Force them to reveal things they would normally be unwilling to share. A truly good character can be able to shine.

When writing, don’t allow your main character to see the full breadth of the theme at the beginning it’ll be too easy for them.

All characters need to change and grow.

Clarify the World and the Status Quo: When you start writing the first ten pages, it needs to give the consumer a taste of the world they’re about to enter. Ask yourself what makes it special. You want to show, not tell. Include a taste of the rules of this world, even if you don’t include much of it.

Details help consumers get sucked into the world and help make them believe it's real. Show off your voice as a storyteller as well as your creativity and originality.

The first ten pages should give your consumer enough. It’s important to know where your characters fit in the world you have built and how they affect it. How the world affects them as they move towards their goals.

You want to set up your status quo in these first ten pages alongside the rules that may follow your world status quo will move along as your story progresses but your rules should never.

Ask Questions About Your World:

Where is my story set?

What time period is it?

What is the culture and demographic of the story?

You want your status quo to relate to your character(s), you want this in order for it to change and for the story to begin. Your world should be a living breathing entity.

Indicate the Theme: This is the root of your screenplay, it’s what you’re writing about and your reason. This is a launching point for your writing.

Common Themes:

Good vs. Evil

Love Conquers All

Triumph Over Adversity

Individual vs. Society

The Battle

Death is Part of Life

Revenge

Loss of Innocence

Person vs. Themselves

Person vs. Nature

This is more about how the story is told and not the actual theming behind it, but it drives the element.

3 Key Points:

Why do we want to tell this story?

Guiding factors and questions behind the theme.

Exploration of the characters is crucial to the theme.

In the script you’ll find a conflict within the character--theme and conflict are linked.

Screenwriters can show them through their characters in a number of ways.

The theme always springs from the characters' main goals.

NOTE: Each script had to be about something to tackle some great human struggle regardless of what genre it is

Set Up the Dramatic Situation: By the tenth page, your consumer should know what your story is truly about and where it will go from there. They should understand what the story's genre, world, character, and theme are.

On page ten, your main character's world should flip its head. There should be an inciting incident that unfolds (the main complication or problem) This should push your character out of the status quo.

An immediate source of conflict should make your protagonist want to take action. You want to make that transition from a want/need to a desire and soon satisfy that said desire.

NOTE: Inciting incidents should appear around the ten percent mark--around the 10th page.

Project Details: Here is some writing exercise to help you know and flush out your ten pages. Write one to three loglines before writing your ten pages, This gives a brief summary of what your screenplay is all about.

This can help with feedback and help you out with your screenplay. Loglines can help with the first ten pages when you do begin to write them. Also, make sure you give yourself feedback as well. This can help with your own project overall.

Loglines Should Get Across:

The Protagonist: use a description rather than a name, but using one is necessary.

The Goal of the Protagonist: a second act turning point, the status quo to goal.

The Antagonist or Obstacle: how are they stopping the protagonist?

Loglines should show those three pieces and they can show your theme as well.

Example: When [inciding incident] occurs a [your protatonist] must [objective] or else [the stake]

After writing your logline and understanding it, you should be able to continue writing your first ten pages.

Outlining Your Script: The biggest rule to any storytelling, but especially with screenwriting, is to never write without a plan. Depending on what kind of writer you are, have a system to help to outline as it can help the flow of your writing process.

Some writers will outline everything while some will just pinpoint the main scenes. Find a way to outline that works for you, but always plan ahead.

Make a habit of writing ideas down, whether that’s action or dialogue, even if you don’t end up using it, you might come back to it to further projects.

Using Dan Harmon’s story circle is a great way to visualize and get a general idea of what your overall story might look like.

Story Breakdown:

Act One, Sequence One: Status Quo and Inciting Incident (what we’re looking for in those ten pages)

Sequence Two: Predicament and Lock-in

Sequence Three: Obstacle and Raising the Stakes

Act Two, Sequence Four: First Culmination and the Mid-point.

Sequence Five: Subplot and Rasing Action

Sequence Six: Main Culmination and the end of Act Two

Act Three, Sequence Seven: New Tention and a Twist

Sequence Eight: The Resolution (the ending)

Five Major Plot Points:

Inciting Incident

Lock-in

First Culmination

Main Culmination

Third Act Twist

Outline either the eight sequences or just your five major plot points. Writing these things down will make the writing process so much easier.

Formatting Your Script: I don’t want to get too personal here, but I really dislike manually formatting in the screenplay format. For me, it takes away time that I can be used to actually write, however, it is important to know and understand how to format manually, especially if you don’t have a program to help with that aspect yet.

Font: Courier New

Size: 14

Songlines: Around 1.5 inches

Dialogue: 3 tabs

Names: 5 tabs

Indents Dialogue Around 5.5

Cuts/Fades Ins: On the Right Side

Programs like Final Draft are extremely helpful, but if you can’t afford Final Draft, here are some alternative screenwriting programs;

Beat (Mac IOS) - Free (I personally use this for my scripts)

Arc Studio - Free, Paid Plan (70-100 dollars a year)

Trelby (Windows) - Free

WriterDuet - Free (Only 3 Scripts), Paid Plan

Highland 2 (Mac IOS) - Free

There are other programs out there, find one that works best for you and your writing style.

Good Writing Habits: Try things out and ask yourself what works and what doesn’t. Most writers have a driving reason to write. So ask yourself; what's your reason?

The best thing you can do is learn your craft, understanding how to write things you might be unsure about. Ask questions and ask for feedback. Being a part of writers' communities can be such a helpful tool as well.

Read other people's work, and see what works and what doesn't. Get inspired by others' work and try to channel that into your own writing.

You want to try and write regularly. Set goals for yourself and get those goals done.

Giving and Receiving Feedback: Feedback should never be overlooked especially from other screenwriters. Bad takeaways are always good to give a new perspective you might have seen beforehand.

Feedback isn’t meant as a personal attack.

Not every piece of feedback is valid in your situation. Pick and choose what make scents to you and your situation--but don’t disregard it. Not everyone will completely understand your story, genre, or them, however, if you notice many people not understanding, ask yourself what can be fixed and or changed.

As a writer, you put a lot of love into your work and feedback might not feel good but it’s important to always treat your consumers and comments with respect--they are usually wanting to help you and your story.

Lastly, respond to the feedback. Have a conversation about your work so you can improve it.

~Vocabulary~

Screenwriting: the activity or process of writing screenplays.

Screenplay: the script of a movie, including acting instructions and scene directions.

Crucial: of great importance.

Agent: a person who acts on behalf of another person or group.

Audition: an interview for a particular role or job as a singer, actor, dancer, or musician, consisting of a practical demonstration of the candidate's suitability and skill.

Produce: make (something) using creative or mental skills.

Genre: a category of artistic composition, as in music or literature, characterized by similarities in form, style, or subject matter.

Status Quo: the existing state of affairs, especially regarding social or political issues.

Indicate: suggest as a desirable or necessary course of action OR point out; show.

Theme: the subject of a talk, a piece of writing, a person's thoughts, or an exhibition; a topic.

Convention: a way in which something is usually done, especially within a particular area or activity.

Obstacles: a thing that blocks one's way or prevents or hinders progress.

Empathetic: showing an ability to understand and share the feelings of another.

Sympathetic: (of a person) attracting the liking of others.

Plight: a dangerous, difficult, or otherwise unfortunate situation.

Culture: the customs, arts, social institutions, and achievements of a particular nation, people, or other social groups.

Demographic: relating to the structure of populations.

Entity: a thing with distinct and independent existence.

Element: a part or aspect of something abstract, especially one that is essential or characteristic.

Inciting Incident: the event that sets the main character or characters on the journey that will occupy them throughout the narrative.

Immediate: nearest in time, relationship, or rank.

Transition: the process or a period of changing from one state or condition to another.

Loglines: a brief summary of a television program, film, or book that states the central conflict of the story.

Outline: a general description or plan giving the essential features of something but not the detail.

Predicament: a difficult, unpleasant, or embarrassing situation.

Lock-in: an arrangement according to which a person or company is obliged to deal only with a specific company.

Culmination: the highest or climactic point of something, especially as attained after a long time.

Mid-point: a point somewhere in the middle.

Communities: a group of people living in the same place or having a particular characteristic in common.

Channel: emulate or seem to be inspired by.

Valid: (of an argument or point) having a sound basis in logic or fact; reasonable or cogent.

Disregard: pay no attention to; ignore.

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