#she's not out for truth and knowledge or ambition or power

[lirotation]

I Hail from Silverymoon: The Clash

Pov my little fanfiction: Astarion x Amaara (my wizard Tav). Angst I guess? This one is not a particular in-game scene, but the general feeling of Act II. The battles became hard, the atmosphere depressing, I was on edge the entire time while in the shadow cursed land. My Amaara was just a nudge away from flipping out. Also, while Dark Urge was like a person that the companions care about, Tav was more like a "Tool And Vessel". They'd dump their problems and requests on her without even asking, "Hey, how are you holding up?"

___________________________________

Amaara sat alone in her tent, absently cradling herself for comfort. She had skipped dinner, the day's events roiling in her mind. First Astarion had learned the sinister truth behind his scar, a revelation that shook them both. Then Arabella's parents were discovered murdered, despite Amaara's promises to save them. The girl's devastated screams and refusal of any consolation would haunt Amaara's dreams. She should have protected them. Should have been wiser, stronger, quicker. But she failed.

The impenetrable shadow curse loomed over the camp, an almost physical pressure exerted on Amaara. She can scarcely breathe. She sat, on the verge of tears, while everyone else tended to their own troubles. No one had even noticed her missing from the campfire tonight. Not that she blamed them; the quests pressed heavily on all. But a small voice inside still whimpered that she didn't matter.

With a shuddering sigh, Amaara pulled a blanket tight around herself. She wished it were Astarion's arms instead. This was one of those nights she would give anything just to lay her head on his shoulder and let him soothe her fears away.

But no, her thoughts drifted to him, remembering the first night they spent together. It was her very first time and he made it the single greatest experience in her life. She was completely lost in him and truly thought their souls bonded that night.

However, the second time was different. Her eagerness was clouded by doubts. She was also armed with new knowledge from Gale's books. She paid more attention to him that time, wishing to bring him pleasure, mend the bond they have. What she observed shattered all her hopes. His eyes were distant, withholding a hint of disgust and loathe. She didn't know what she did wrong, all she knew was the hurt in her heart and even more doubts in her mind. She didn't say or do anything though, still clung to him.

When they finally arrived at the shadow cursed land, there was no time to have a discussion because everything was thrown at her all at once. She could not seek comfort from him, for she didn't even know what his true intention was.

Suddenly Amaara heard soft footsteps outside her tent. Astarion popped his head in, giving his usual roguish smile. "Bad day?"

"The worst," she murmured. Carefully she allowed a tiny warmth kindled in her chest at the sight of him.

"I heard the girl yelling all the way across camp. This is what you get for helping every sob story that comes along."

Amaara sighed. "I had to try. I just wish I'd been quicker."

"Don't trouble yourself with every stranger's burden. You can't carry the world on your shoulders." Astarion's eyes glinted. "Although…we could have saved them if we had more power."

Amaara shook her head. "I did my best. Gave it my all."

"Did you?" Astarion pressed. "You refused to use the tadpole. But that was said and done. Now think - if I ascend in Cazador's place, we'll have might beyond imagining! You could help whoever you wished."

Amaara's eyes widened. Her heart turned to ice. He wasn't here to comfort her after all, "Don't." She snapped, then softened her tone, "please, not now, not today. We will discuss this some other time."

"Such innocence," he chuckled. "You know nothing of the choices survival forces upon us." His eyes flashed with cold ambition. "The power is there for the taking, if you'd help me grasp it. "

"There will always be a better way than violating our principles!" Amaara shot back, unshed tears shimmering in her eyes.

Astarion stepped closer, his voice dropping to a cruel whisper. "YOUR principles. They make you weak when ruthlessness is required. You couldn't even help a simple peasant girl."

His words had weaponized her own guilt and doubts, leaving her consumed by grief. "How can you even consider the profane ascension, when you know what it entails? You said you just wanted to be rid of your old master, you didn't even want to be a true Vampire. what changed?" Anger started to set in, for his lack of consideration of her emotions. Harsh words lashed out, firm and curt, " NO, I won't allow it. "

"YOU WON’T ALLOW IT?" He bit down on every word as if to chew them into pieces. Rage erupted inside him and his vision went red, "When I was being flayed, you danced carefree. When I was seducing victims to their death against my will, you shared kisses with your bard boy on the Moonbridge. While I endured unimaginable torments, you spent your youth immersed in books and childish romance. you are nothing but a little mageling with no experience of the evil in the world, and your naïvety will be our undoing." Astarion's words were soaked in venom, "Powers that could help us lie within easy grasp, yet you cling to frail morality, chaining me with it too. "

He imitated Amaara's voice in a mocking way, "Astarion, don't bite thinking creatures. Astarion, don't kill the monster hunter. Astarion, don't use the tadpole's power, Astarion, don't ascend and be truly free." He sneered.

"Does restricting me give you purpose? Do you seek to become my new master? After all I endured…you presume to command me?" He spat, "Too bad, you do not dictate my fate. when the time comes, it is not your decision to make."

Astarion's cruel condemnation cut to Amaara's core. As fury boiled up inside her, the last thread of restraint snapped. "How dare you!" she shrieked, voice shaking with rage. "You know nothing of my life, yet boldly presume to judge me!"

"I may be young, but I've seen darkness across Faerûn that you in your cage could scarcely dream of." Amaara blazed, fury and pain etched on her face.

"You think I don't comprehend evil? I fought in wars, trudged through the wreckage left by those drunk on power. Held the hands of the dying and broken. Heard the screams of children orphaned, peasants crushed beneath the heels of tyrants! The Drows sought power, and drove the War of Silver Marches. The Ogres sought power, and led the siege on Silverymoon. My home in rubbles, my parents slaughtered before my eyes!"

She trembled with rage and grief. "And now mind flayers spread madness, and I'm cursed with their filth in my head! Every time someone grasps for might, I lose something precious!"

Amaara's shoulders slumped in defeat. "So do not lecture me about power's lure or necessity. I crave power too. If I were stronger, perhaps I could have saved my parents, kept my friends safe. I toil endlessly to hone my skills, master new spells, learn new recipes, anything to gain control." She lifted her head, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. "But never at the cost of my soul."

"I offer you only compassion, yet you twist it into chains! Am I your enemy just for wishing you to retain your humanity?" Amaara wrapped her arms around herself, believing this is the source of their problem and the origin of his contempt. To her dismay, this is something unresolvable.

She felt utterly broken inside. "So choose your path, take your power, rule over ashes and bones. Lose yourself fully. It matters not, for I will have lost all I hold dear anyway. It would just be one more beloved thing sacrificed at ambition's altar. no big deal. I'm used to that by now."

Astarion stood there, his own anger overshadowed by the torrent of emotions that Amaara's words had stirred within him. Her confession had caught him off guard, and for a brief, bewildering moment, he felt a pulse of something he hadn't expected. But his well-practiced instincts to deflect kicked in, and he quickly composed himself.

"I do apologize, darling," he said, his voice carrying an unusual softness. "I didn't know. I suppose we're all products of our past, and you've certainly had your share of trials."

Astarion took a step closer, let out a small laugh "It was a bad choice of timing, I admit. In my eagerness after learning about the ritual, I got way ahead of myself. We don't even know if it can be done or not. We're practically bickering over theoretical situations. Silly of me, really."

His voice softened further, a familiar seductive tone seeping out. "Now, my little pet, would you like me to stay? I'll make it up to you, promise."

Amaara blinked, a mixture of anger and bewilderment stopping all her tears. The absurdity of his offer slammed into her, leaving her momentarily speechless.

"Get out," she finally said, her voice carrying the weight of her exasperation and disbelief.

"Sweet dreams." And with that, he turned and slipped away.

"It's over," she whispered, the bitter truth settling in. Perhaps there had never been anything real between them at all.

The weight of it all pressed down relentlessly until she buried her face in the bedroll, sobs wracking her body. Oblivion seemed the only appeal now, far removed from this anguish. I should have perished alongside my parents, she bitterly thought, sparing myself this grim future.

The group's fate beckoned in the darkest corners of her mind. What purpose did she have to go on? To keep fighting? When all the efforts were in vain and all that awaited was more pain at the hands of those she foolishly dared to trust.

That night, sleep evaded Amaara for hours. When it finally came, it brought troubling dreams. She found herself surrounded by a swarm of mind flayers, their tentacles grasping, a loud murmur of "Join us" seemed to come from all around her, then the ground collapsed under her feet.

Amaara fell screaming into darkness. She landed with a painful thud next to young Arabella. Tears streamed down her face. "You promised to save them! You promised!" she wailed, before blinking away. In her place, Halsin appeared out of thin air, who glared accusingly. "The curse remains. Are you even trying to aid me?"

Before she could respond, Halsin vanished. Wyll appeared next, panic in his eyes. "You must hurry! My father's life depends on it!" He too disappeared in a wisp.

After Wyll vanished, Amaara wandered alone through the shifting dark landscape, disoriented and afraid. Suddenly she spotted Karlach's broad form standing nearby, back turned.

Hope bloomed in Amaara's chest. "Karlach!" she called out, hurrying toward her friend, desperate for an anchor amidst the nightmare.

Slowly, Karlach turned to face her. But as she did, flames erupted across her body, consuming her. Amaara cried out in horror as Karlach melted away right before her eyes.

Reeling, Amaara staggered back, only to hear Gale's voice behind her, "goodbye, my friend." She whipped around.

Gale clutched his chest in agony. "This is my fate." He gave her a pained smile, with that Gale exploded in front of her with a force that sent her falling once more.

As Amaara plunged into darkness, she saw Shadowheart drifting alongside her, floating limply.

"Shadowheart!" Amaara cried out, grabbing for the cleric's hand.

But Shadowheart only gazed back blankly, no recognition in her eyes. Sinister shadowy hands materialized, seizing the helpless cleric and dragging her down into the abyss.

Amaara screamed and tried to hold on, but Shadowheart slipped away into the shadows' embrace. Amaara could only watch helplessly as her companion vanished, the void widening between them.

At last Amaara managed to land. As she struggled to get on her feet, a hand shoved her back to the ground. She tried to rise but froze at the sight of Astarion looming over her. He wore a sinister smile, "on your knees, darling," He commanded, fangs bared and eyes full of malevolent hunger. He descended upon her exposed neck as she screamed…

Amaara awoke, her throat raw from screaming Astarion's name, and her body drenched in a cold sweat. The remnants of her nightmare still held her in a tight grip, refusing to let go. As her ragged breaths echoed in the darkness, she felt Astarion rushing towards her, and she recoiled instinctively.

The companions had been roused by her cries, and they gathered around her tent, concern etched across their faces. Some of them reached out to offer comfort, but she flinched away from their touch, her eyes wild and desperate as they scanned the faces before her.

Amidst the chaos, Astarion's concerned voice cut through. "Amaara, what's wrong?" He moved toward her, only to be met with a forceful shove and a bolt of magic missile straight to the gut.

Staggering back, Astarion looked at her with bewilderment and alarm. He had never seen sweet, patient Amaara lash out so violently, especially toward him. Her usually calm demeanor was now overtaken by distress he didn't understand.

Before anyone could make sense of the situation, Amaara stumbled out of the tent, right into Lae'zel, clutching at the gith's tunic as if it were her lifeline. Lae'zel's eyes widened in surprise, yet she reacted with an unexpected gesture.

Slowly, deliberately, Lae'zel put one arm around the distressed wizard, while her other arm extended in a protective barrier, blocking Astarion's attempt to approach. Though her posture remained rigid and defensive, her singular embrace became a shield for Amaara.

Halsin's voice carried a sage wisdom as he addressed the group. "She had a nightmare, let's give her the space to collect herself."

Lae'zel met Astarion's incredulous stare with an unyielding glare. She then turned, guided the broken down wizard to her own tent, away from everyone else.

As the rest of the party scattered, Astarion stayed, completely dumbfounded. His determination to follow Amaara was halted by a firm grip on his elbow. His body tensed as he instinctively pulled away, his voice laced with an edge of desperation, "DON'T. TOUCH. ME." It was Gale who had caught him, trying to prevent his impulsive actions. Astarion struggled against Gale's grip, his frustration and anger evident in his eyes.

In the midst of their struggle, Gale cast a "Hold Person" spell on Astarion.

"Let go of me!" Astarion's voice seethed with impotent fury. Gale positioned himself in front of Astarion, blocking his line of sight to Amaara. "You need to collect yourself first," Gale stated firmly. "And I need to have a word with you."

Astarion's glare intensified, his lips curling in a snarl.

"Look at you - a feral animal. You'll only frighten Amaara more in this state," Gale admonished with a weary sigh.

Astarion glared venomously but slowly relaxed his aggressive posture under Gale's stern gaze.

"Congratulations, Astarion. You've accomplished the feat of enraging our gentle Amaara," Gale remarked, tone laced with sarcasm. "Keep it up, and one of us may gladly take your place."

Astarion let out a bitter laugh. "I'm sure you're all just waiting for that opportunity."

Gale's expression turned solemn. "I don't know what twisted game you're playing. But understand this - Amaara has options, far better ones than a deceitful leech like you."

Astarion's retorted defensively, "Hahaha, yes, a ticking time bomb, a murderous gith, and a druid who's more bear than man? Don't make me laugh. Amaara is mine."

Gale's gaze held steady, his words piercing through Astarion's façade, "Go on, Astarion. What is she to you?"

Caught off guard, Astarion faltered. "She's my…" He was at a loss for words, struggling to define the complex emotions that swirled within him.

"I thought so," Gale's voice softened. "For her sake, I hope you can find the answer to that question before it's too late." With a wave of hand, Gale lifted the spell before he turned and walked away.

Astarion stood there, his thoughts a tangled mess. Amaara's reaction had struck him to his core. She had never recoiled from his touch like that before, never met him with physical aggression. He replayed the events of the evening in his mind, trying to piece together where things had gone wrong. What had his intention been when he sought her out earlier? He recalled that it had been a pretty good day for him - finally learning about the truth behind his scars and the battles had not taken too great a toll on him. He had been in a good mood since Amaara promised to help him against Cazador. He was hoping to have a deeper discussion about the new information with her, and maybe offer some comfort for the disheartened little heroine.

And then it all unraveled. But how? What had he said when his temper had gotten the best of him? He struggled to remember the exact words that had led to their heated argument. But that hardly matters now, right?

The notion of losing Amaara utterly terrified Astarion. He had believed her to be hopelessly enthralled - whatever he did or said to her would have no consequences, she would always come back to him like a kicked puppy. But now doubt plagued him. Was she truly so spellbound? Or had he pushed her too far this time?

In desperation he scrambled for ways to regain control, to mend the cracks in her devotion. But even that impulse gave him pause.

Because the more he pondered, the clearer a startling truth became - it was not merely her compliance and thrall he feared losing, but her. For so long he had seen her as merely someone to manipulate and seduce. Yet now, the threat of her absence stirred a different emotion entirely. Not just wounded pride at losing a plaything, but the ache of something far more profound slipping away.

The gentle soul had offered him everything - compassion, patience, love freely given. At first she was just an amusement to him, a powerful wizard reduced to a toy. But she had tried in her own way to connect to him as a person.

He remembered the sweet taste of her blood, a gift freely given, and accepted without judgment.

He remembered the way she had looked at him when she had shared the beauty of her own world with him - her room she had conjured, the view of the Moonbridge. He now realized it was a gesture meant to forge a connection, her way of opening up and letting him in.

He remembered her using a figment illusion to show him his reflection when he had been wallowing in self-pity; He thought back on her shy smile, the kiss she planted so delicately on his conjured image. He now realized it was her creative way to show affection because she had noticed his adversary to touch.

He remembered when she carefully traced his scars, Remembered her relentless determination as she had spent the entire night trying to piece together the infernal letters. The disappointment that had clouded her expression when her efforts had yielded no results.

He remembered her words, "Of course I am with you," when she aided him against the Orthon - she had given, and asked nothing in return.

He remembered her bright-eyed smile and adoring gaze. A gaze unlike those he encountered before. It had held no lust, no violation. It was filled with simple admiration and joy.

He felt seen, wanted… even loved.

Never in life or unlife had he been shown such empathy and care without ulterior motives. Never in life or unlife had he asked for help and met with help, asked for compassion and met with compassion, asked for indulgence and met with indulgence.

He didn't care

No.

He thought he didn't care.

NO.

He didn't know he cared.

He felt like an idiot now. How stupid had he been? He had messed it all up. He had pushed her away, misread her intentions, and allowed his insecurities to tarnish the connection she tried so hard to build.

Now, the very idea of her slipping away made his blood turn into ice. What they had shared had been real, and he finally realized how much light she had brought into his bleak existence. Light he would give anything to get back, if only he knew how.

[iheartgracie]

jude duarte badass quotes

Instead of being afraid, I could become something to fear

The odd thing about ambition is this: You can acquire it like a fever, but it is not so easy to shed.

I kissed him on the mouth, and then I threatened to kiss him some more if he didn't do exactly what I wanted.

Vivi is right; it cost me something to be the way I am. But I do not know what. And I don't know if I can get it back. I don't even know if I want it.

I'm not a monster, I'd told her, back when I said I would never hurt Oak. But maybe being a monster was my calling.

You put a curse on that girl over there,” I tell him. “Fix her immediately.”

“She admired my ears,” the boy says. “I was only giving her what she desired. A party favor.”

“That’s what I am going to say after I gut you and use your entrails as streamers,” I tell him. “I was only giving him what he wanted. After all, if he didn’t want to be eviscerated, he would have honored my very reasonable request.

“If I cannot become better than them. I will become so much worse.”

“Sorry if you can’t read my handwriting,” I say, grabbing the notebook. The page tears, leaving most of my night’s work shredded. “But that’s not exactly my disadvantage.”

“I brush myself off. “Are you calling me out? Because then it’s my right to choose the time and the weapon.” How I would love to knock her down.”

“I don’t feel particularly miserable right at the moment.” I can’t show him I’m afraid.

His mouth curls. “What happiness do you have? Rutting and breeding. You’d go mad if you accepted the truth of what you are. You are nothing. You barely exist at all. Your only purpose is to create more of your kind before you die some pointless and agonizing death.”

I look him in the eye. “And?”

He seems taken aback, although the sneer doesn’t leave his face.

“Yeah, yeah, sure. I am going to die. And I am a big liar. So what?”

“You had the advantage of me twice, and twice you gave it away. Good luck getting it again.”

“Perhaps someone will ask for your hand and you’ll be made a permanent member of the High Court.”

“I want to win my place,” I tell her.”

“They talk about honor, but what they really care about is power. I am good enough with a blade, knowledgeable in strategy. All I need is a chance to prove myself.”

“Take a big bite.”

“Make me,” I say before I can stop myself”

“She can show us how sorry she is,” Cardan drawls. “Tell her she doesn’t belong in the Summer Tournament.”

“Afraid I’ll win?” I ask, which isn’t smart.”

“Nicasia's wrong about me. I don't desire to do as well in the tournament as one of the fey. I want to win. I do not yearn to be their equal. In my heart, I yearn to best them.”

“I don’t care if they don’t like my being in the tournament. Once I become a knight, I’ll be beyond their reach.”

“Do you know why Madoc won’t let me try for knighthood? Because he thinks I’m weak.”

“Jude,” she cautions.

“I thought I was supposed to be good and follow the rules,” I say. “But I am done with being weak. I am done with being good. I think I am going to be something else.”

“Cardan’s gaze catches mine, and I can’t help the evil smile that pulls up the corners of my mouth. His eyes are bright as coals, his hatred a living thing, shimmering in the air between us like the air above black rocks on a blazing summer day.

“Have you lost your wits?” Taryn demands, shaking my shoulder so that I have to turn to her. “You’re making everything worse. There’s a reason no one stands up to them.”

“I know,” I say softly, unable to keep the smile off my lips. “A lot of reasons.”

She’s right to be worried. I just declared war.”

“Give up.”

“Never,” I say.”

“I leave my books and cross the grass toward them. Cardan half-turns, and I shove him so hard that his back hits one of the trees. His eyes go wide.

“I don’t know what you said to her, but don’t you ever go near my sister again,” I tell him, my hand still on the front of his velvet doublet. “You gave her your word.”

“I’m not withdrawing from the tournament,” I tell her.

“Even if it wins you nothing but more woe?” she asks.

“Even then,” I say.”

“My good intentions evaporate on the wind. My blood is on fire, boiling in my veins. I do not have much power, but here is what I have—I can force his hand. Cardan might want to hurt me, but I can make him want to hurt me worse. We’re supposed to play at war. When they call us to our places, I play. I play as viciously as possible”

“You’re no killer, Madoc said.

Right now I feel that I could be.”

“Get down on your knees,” Cardan says, looking insufferably pleased with himself. His fury has transmuted into gloating. “Beg. Make it pretty. Flowery. Worthy of me.”

“Beg?” I echo.”

“You think because you can humiliate me, you can control me?” I say, looking him in those black eyes. “Well, I think you’re an idiot. Since we started being tutored together, you’ve gone out of your way to make me feel like I’m less than you. And to coddle your ego, I have made myself less. I have made myself small, I have kept my head down. But it wasn’t enough to make you leave Taryn and me alone, so I’m not going to do that anymore.

“I am going to keep on defying you. I am going to shame you with my defiance. You remind me that I am a mere mortal and you are a prince of Faerie. Well, let me remind you that means you have much to lose and I have nothing. You may win in the end, you may ensorcell me and hurt me and humiliate me, but I will make sure you lose everything I can take from you on the way down. I promise you this”—I throw his own words back at him—“this is the least of what I can do.”

[yeolsaintlaurent]

Crimson Veins, Midnight Flames ch.1 [BBH]

pairing - baekhyun x fem reader

genre - mature, smut, thriller

themes - Social Divide, Ambition and Privilege, Dark Desires, Identity and Self-Discovery, Love triangle, Sex, Mystery and Gothic Elements

Synopsis - Explore the intricate world of Oxford University, where Baekhyun, a scholarship student, intertwines with the wealthy elite led by Sehun Oh and Y/N Van der Bilt. Against the backdrop of seductive parties and concealed love, the tale unfolds at the grand Ivy Crest Estate in the picturesque town of Willowbrook. Here, secrets and power plays unravel, revealing a collision between societal expectations and personal truths, with gothic nuances weaving through the rich tapestry of privilege and deceit. This is where the heart of the story beats, echoing with the footsteps of characters entwined in a dance of love, betrayal, and hidden mysteries.

A/N - Hi my lovelies~ I am so so so excited to be sharing this new series with you guys. Ever since I watched Saltburn at the cinema, I had wanted to write a fic inspired by it. As always, let me know what you guys think about my new series. <3

Chapter 1: Freshman Impressions

The air at Oxford University was alive with anticipation as freshmen flooded the campus, eager faces filled with excitement and trepidation. Banners fluttered in the crisp autumn breeze, welcoming the newcomers to a journey of knowledge and self-discovery. The courtyards were abuzz with freshmen finding their way, guided by the hopeful energy that marked the beginning of their academic adventure.

Baekhyun, clad in his drab attire, navigated through the sea of unfamiliar faces with wide-eyed wonder. His jet-black hair, styled in an old-fashioned way, hinted at his reserved personality. The banners overhead welcomed the freshmen, but Baekhyun felt like a stranger in a foreign land, an outcast amidst the throngs of students who seemed to effortlessly find their place.

As he lugged his bags, Baekhyun's gaze wandered, taking in the vibrant atmosphere. He saw students with smiles that mirrored the banners' enthusiasm, groups forming friendships that would last a lifetime, and laughter that echoed through the courtyards. His introverted nature left him feeling like an observer on the fringe of a world that he yearned to belong to.

The first day unfolded like a whirlwind, a cascade of introductions, campus tours, and the overwhelming realization that the journey ahead was as daunting as it was promising. Baekhyun, however, found himself struggling to connect with anyone. Ignored and brushed off when seeking directions to his dormitory, he felt the weight of his scholarship status more acutely than ever.

Upon reaching his dorm room, Baekhyun peered out of the window overlooking the courtyard, a view that would become a daily spectacle. It was there, amidst the crowd, that he saw Y/N for the first time. Her uber fashionable outfit, designer bag and shoes, and captivating beauty drew his attention like a moth to a flame. She stood with her friends chatting away, a cigarette in hand, an embodiment of the privilege that seemed so distant from his own reality.

Despite the magnetic pull he felt toward Y/N, Baekhyun remained introverted and nervous. He watched her from a distance, his silent admiration painting a picture of unspoken desire. The window-sill overlooking the courtyard became his silent refuge, and Y/N's presence, a beacon of aspiration in his mundane world.

The University's welcome reception dinner, a grand affair filled with chatter and clinking cutlery, brought Baekhyun face-to-face with the stark realities of his social standing. Most seats were occupied, and the few attempts to find a place were met with dismissive glances. Eventually settling into a solitary spot, Baekhyun's solitude was interrupted by Chanyeol.

"Hey mate, mind if I sit here?" Chanyeol asked, already pulling out a chair opposite to him.

Baekhyun, surprised by the friendly gesture, nodded. "Uh, sure. Go ahead."

Chanyeol flashed a friendly grin as he settled into the chair. "I'm Chanyeol, Chanyeol Park. What's your major?"

"Baekhyun Byun," he replied, still adjusting to the social interaction. "Psychology."

"Sound choice!" Chanyeol exclaimed. "I'm going for Business Administration. Got big shoes to fill as the family heir and all that."

The grand hall echoed with the chatter of students, and the vibrant atmosphere contrasted with Baekhyun's more reserved demeanor. As Chanyeol animatedly shared stories, the world around Baekhyun seemed to fade into the background, and his undecipherable expressions spoke volumes.

Chanyeol, with his outgoing personality, remained oblivious to the intricacies playing out in Baekhyun's mind. The topic veered towards Y/N as Baekhyun's gaze occasionally flickered toward her table, a subtle yet persistent attraction that Chanyeol noticed with a knowing smirk.

"I see where your interests lie," Chanyeol teased, nudging Baekhyun with a playful grin. Baekhyun responded with a nonchalant shrug, but his expressions betrayed a depth of emotion that went beyond mere acknowledgment.

Leaning in conspiratorially, Chanyeol continued his narrative. "That one there, whispering sweet nothings in her ear? That's Sehun Oh. Summered in Spain together after sixth form, so they're practically inseparable now." 

Chanyeol, always eager to share insights, revealed another layer to the story. "Sehun and I are good mates. Our fathers are business partners, and I've been a frequent guest at the Van der Bilt family galas at their estate," he confided in Baekhyun, unaware of the internal turmoil brewing within the quieter companion.

With each word, Chanyeol's extroverted energy almost felt like an intrusion for Baekhyun, who continued to listen to the endless stream of information about Sehun and Y/N. The dynamics between the trio unfolded in the narratives Chanyeol wove, and Baekhyun's expressions served as a silent canvas for emotions that ran deeper than the surface suggested.

Two weeks later :

The day of the first assessments arrived, and Baekhyun, armed with a sharp mind and a focused determination, emerged from the exam hall. The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the bustling courtyard. As the other students dispersed, Baekhyun, oblivious to the world around him, made his way to the nearest notice board. The anticipation of upcoming exams lingered, and he scrutinized the posted details for any schedule changes or possible rearrangements of exam halls.

Lost in the sea of information, Baekhyun suddenly became aware of a commotion nearby. A voice, soft but urgent, reached his ears, seeking a graphing calculator amidst the departing students. He hesitated, not wanting to be drawn into the social currents that flowed around him. The solitary pursuit of knowledge called to him, urging him to retreat to the quiet confines of his dorm room for a session of solitary reading.

A tap on his shoulder shattered his reverie, and Baekhyun turned, finding himself face-to-face with the very object of his admiration—Y/N. Time seemed to freeze, and he felt a strange mixture of elation and nervousness as she stood before him. Her flustered demeanor and earnest expression captivated him, momentarily blurring the lines between his introverted world and the vibrant social tapestry around him.

Y/N, with a hint of desperation in her voice, asked if he had a spare graphing calculator. She explained that she needed it for her upcoming exam and had forgotten her own. Baekhyun, still in the grip of surprise, felt his hands instinctively reaching into his corduroy messenger bag. Without uttering a word, he handed her the calculator, a simple yet profound act of kindness.

The transformation in Y/N's expression was instantaneous. Gratitude and happiness radiated from her as she clutched the calculator in her hands. In a burst of genuine emotion, she planted a quick but heartfelt kiss on Baekhyun's cheek, catching him completely off guard. Before he could fully comprehend the moment, she enveloped him in a warm hug, expressing her thanks.

"I'll get it back to you! Thank you so much!!" her voice echoed behind her as she sprinted towards her exam hall. Baekhyun stood there, frozen for a moment longer, the weight of the unexpected encounter lingering in the air. The courtyard resumed its rhythm, but for Baekhyun, a simple act of generosity had set in motion a chain of events of social dynamics and hidden desires.

[jacenbren]

I know it's probably been pointed out before, but I am Having Thoughts about the twins' shift in personality after the Big Fall so forgive me but I NEED to rant (here be spoilers be warned)

At first glance it's easy to think that Knives is very cold and emotionless and closed off, but when you look closer, you realize that that's probably the furthest thing from the truth. When we see him as a kid—no matter which iteration of Trigun you're watching—Knives is the high-energy, outgoing twin, with big ambitions and an even bigger desire to go seek out knowledge. Especially in trimax, he's the one who's the most intrigued by humans and wants to get along with them (it should be noted that both of the twins have a very black-and-white way of thinking and a very strong sense of justice; I personally headcanon both of them as autistic). He's the one who follows Rem around the ship, constantly bombarding her with why why why, and when she doesn't give him answers—either because said answers to his questions require a level of maturity he doesn't yet have to understand, or because Rem is fucking tired from taking care of twin alien boys who age rapidly and could blow up the entire fleet with their godlike powers—Knives stubbornly starts to look for them himself.

Then the Tesla incident happens. For Knives, this is the mother of all fuckery, and he basically is subjected to the alien equivalent of watching Mufasa get K.O.'ed by a herd of wildebeests in The Lion King. This scares the living shit out of him, because every one of his prior beliefs have just been obliterated. Knives being naturally very inquisitive and hungry for knowledge... well, after Rem comes and gets them and calms them down, Knives starts digging. He doesn't want to believe that this is what humans are capable of, but as he combs through the ship's data archives, he keeps getting atrocity after atrocity thrown in his face. Knives bears witness to the horrors of mankind's history, and with his black-and-white thinking, he can't help just fucking losing it.

We're all pretty aware that Knives wears his heart on his sleeve. Sure he acts all cool and calculating, but when he's actually in the heat of the moment, he clearly reacts to everything in a very emotional manner. That adventurous, energetic little kid he once was is still in there, but he's been damaged so very badly, and twisted to where his strong emotions are expressed almost entirely as anger and his inquisitive nature has become recklessness; Knives just doesn't know when to stop, because he can't. All he's been focused on for the past century and a half is the survival of himself and his kind, and he's basically been in a kind of high-alert attack mode since the Big Fall.

Knives has built up a shell around himself. A sharp, spiky shell of weaponized emotions, that nothing but Vash can break through.

Speaking of Vash, he was a pretty shy, reserved kid. Especially in tristamp, he's the softspoken, mama's boy type. He's pretty clingy towards Rem especially, and he's more than happy to let Knives do all the decision-making and talking. He fits the younger sibling archetype very well, despite him and Knives being twins.

When the Tesla incident happens, Vash takes it a bit better. He's not curious to a fault like Knives is, so he takes Rem's word for it when she reassures him and says that she would never let anything happen to him or his brother. Instead of flipping his viewpoints on a dime out of fear, Vash instead becomes even more firm in his ideals: yes, humans are by no means perfect, but they've been nothing but kind to him and Knives so far. Vash comes to the conclusion that if he doesn't give the humans a reason to hurt him, everything will be okay, so Vash constructs a wall around himself like Knives did, only Vash's is purely defensive and deliberately disarming. Especially after the Big Fall, Vash is extremely aware of how untrusting humanity is of him, so he pours all his energy into making himself as likeable and non-threatening as he can.

Unlike Knives, we rarely see Vash react to dangerous situations with genuine emotion. It's very obvious that Vash's careless, happy-go-lucky attitude is a construct that he uses to hide his true feelings, and a meticulously-constructed one at that—in the '98 anime, Wolfwood is one of the few people who seem to be able to pick up on this and point it out. Sure, Vash might be a genuinely good-hearted and hopeful person, but he's just as scared as Knives is, only he hides behind a facade and tries to make himself as palatable to humans as he can (yet another reason why I headcanon the twins as autistic; homeboy has been masking for literal centuries and when he finally ends up having a meltdown because of it he levels cities lmao).

Vash has also built up a shell around himself. His, however, is deliberately made to seal himself away from the world, out of fear for himself, humanity, and the rest of his kind.

forgive me for the long post but I am rotating these two little shits in my Mind Microwave omg

[itbmojojoejo]

A Good Man | Part 3

Pairing: Finan x Ealdorman's Daughter!Reader

Summary: A nobleman of Wessex introduces himself to y/n after a witan.

Warnings: SLOWBURN. No other warnings at this time. Please let me know if i've missed anything!

Wordcount:3k (chunky but necessary)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4 | Other Works

Authors Notes: Introduced noble and his father are completely fictional and not from TLK. Gleawecestre = Ye Olde Gloucester. My geography is getting really good thanks to this series. (I wrote that before i realised i'd gotten droitwich and saltwic mixed up but it's too late to change that now sooo.)

You sat tall atop your horse beside Lady Aethelflaed journeying towards Winchester leading the small household guard, Lord Uhtred rode a short distance in front with Finan at his side, Osferth and Sihtric behind. You knew the knots in your stomach weren’t related to attending the witan, court life was something you had grown used to and felt comfortable in, it was the topic of conversations afterwards.

“My Lady, how long am I to stay by your side?” You asked glancing at Aethelflaed

“As long as you wish.” She answered with a reassuring smile

“So you aren’t looking to be rid of me to the first bidder?”

“Bidder? y/n no, I’m in no rush for you to leave. In fact I have a task for you while we are in Winchester. There are going to be Ealdormen from Mercia and Wessex present, just keep your eyes and ears open for any information that could be of use.”

“Am I to pry or simply listen and look?” You probed, it wasn’t the first time you’d been asked to do a task like this, your father had asked you to do the same at Aeglesburgh many times

“I would say gossip with the women, listen and look with the men.”

“And if someone questions my loyalty at any point? I am new to being seen at your side after all”

“Tell them what they want to hear, within reason”

“I understand Lady.” And you did understand, knowledge is power in the court. The women spread information quicker than the men and there was usually more truth to it because they had no use for it, the men spin a web to suit their individual needs and ambitions. If you can hear both sides you have an easier time picking apart the truth from the lies.

Arriving in the city you dismounted your horse so it could be taken to the stable and rested and Osferth lingered close by, you hadn’t missed the watchful eye he kept on Finan when he was around you so you approached him keeping your demeanour casual and voice warm.

“Have I offended you somehow Osferth?”

“Oh no Lady of course not” He denied with the shake of his head

“Mm, you are a man of faith yes?” You asked plainly

“I am.” He shifted on his feet

“Then I trust that if you had something you felt the need to share, it would be done in good faith?” Your eyes were kind as they searched his, you didn’t want to cause any upset with the men that had been so welcoming to you recently

“Yes.” He cleared his throat and looked to the floor choosing his words before meeting your eyes “I would not wish to see a good man reprimanded for simply sharing and enjoying the company of a higher borne.” He was just looking out for his friend and you couldn’t fault him for that.

“Of course and neither would I, thank you for your honesty Osferth.” You offered a small smile and the monk returned it with his own.

“Come, let’s get this over with.” Uhtred called from his place on the steps, his tone showing his dislike for politics

You followed behind Aethelflaed and Uhtred with Finan through the halls of the palace towards the growing sound of a gathering.

“Do not worry Lady, you’ll be fine.” Finan whispered with a reassuring touch to your arm sending butterflies to flutter in your stomach

“I’m not worried, this is just a pissing contest to be the man who gets to whisper in the king’s ear.”

You shot him a small smirk coming to a stop in front of the hall, his shocked expression showing he was still processing your comment.

“Ah if it isn’t my charming wife, her new lady-in-waiting and the Lord Uhtred.” Lord Aethelred spoke arriving just behind your small group looking you over.

“Husband, Lord Aldhelm, I trust you are well?” There was an absence of affection in Aethelflaed’s tone that was difficult to miss.

“Very, how is our daughter?” His tone was not kind at the mention of Aelfwyn, Aldhelm shifted on his feet beside Aethelred.

“She grows everyday, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll see you in the hall.” She gave a curt nod walking away

“You know Lady y/n, if you ever feel like you’re missing your father,” He steps closer towards you taking in your form and lowering his voice “I can be very generous and offer a larger retainer to have you back at Aeglesburgh court on a permanent basis if you wish.”

Finan took a quiet breath in rolling his shoulders and clasped one hand over the other in front of his waist looking between you and the Lord. You held yourself firm with confidence, eye contact never faltering and kept your tone flat in your sharp response,

“Yes, I’ve heard of your generosity Lord, thank you but I am very happy beside your wife.”

Finan coughed to cover a chuckle giving Uhtred a side glance at the exchange as you walked into the hall towards Aethelflaed. He remembered the comment that was made of you not being fond of Aethelred or being shaken by the men you were now surrounded by, you were raised to be strong in the world of politics and that was becoming clearer to him.

You stood on the back row of the witan observing King Edward discuss how to handle raids from the danes that are rife on the borders of Wessex and Mercia when you notice a young man on the second row of the Wessex seats watching you. He couldn’t be much older than you with golden hair and blue eyes, he was broad and tall and looked like he would handle a battle well. A man stood behind him leant to whisper in his ear, you knew your presence would garner some attention as it was your first time inside the court and the same knots from earlier returned to your stomach.

King Edward had determined that for now each Lord was to carry on defending their own lands and move their grain stores to a location that would have better defences, he saw no reason to go to meet them in battle as it was smaller camps not one army moving together. The discontent in the room was easy to feel, it was as though it was vibrating through the floors and walls, as everyone rose from their seats and dispersed you followed behind Aethelflaed and Lord Aldhelm heading towards the courtyard locked in a debate with Uhtred about the decision made.

Finan joined your small group coming to your side as the debate continued on to the main entrance of the palace

“How was your first witan of Wessex?” He whispered leaning into your space

“It’s good to put faces to the names of vultures. But it’s not over yet, my task is only just beginning.” You responded quietly, smoothing a hand down the front of your lilac dress.

“Lady y/n” A voice called out from behind, you turned to see the very tall and broad dark blonde from the witan approaching, Finan looked between the pair of you matching the same silent question on your face, who is this man and why does he know your name.

“Allow me to introduce myself, I am Lord Eadred, my father is Lord Ealford of Gleawecestre.”

“I did not see the Lord Ealford present?” Aethelflaed had also stopped with the men when they heard your name called by an unknown voice

“Lady Aethelflaed, Lord Aldhelm.” He bowed his head lightly disregarding Uhtred completely which didn’t go unnoticed “I’m afraid he is rather sickly and has sent me on his behalf.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, I hope he returns to full health soon.”

“Thank you Lady, I was wondering if I could accompany Lady y/n on a walk perhaps?” His blue eyes looked hopeful as he looked you over.

The group all turned to you, sensing an opportunity to find out more about this unknown man you offered Eadred a smile and poured a sweet honey tone into your voice,

“My apologies Lord I have travelled quite far the past few days and wish to be out of the sun, but you may join me for a cup of ale at the two cranes inn if you’d like, with a chaperone.”

“Very well, I would enjoy that.” He responded glancing at a now very tense Finan by your side.

“Lord Uhtred, you are staying at that inn as well are you not?” Aethelflaed’s question was answered with a nod, “Would you be so kind as to chaperone on my behalf? I am needed here beside the king.”

“It would be my honour.” Uhtred stated, offering a smile to Eadred that masked a different emotion entirely.

The walk to the inn was quiet and tense as you followed behind the men through the bustling city. Walking through the door Finan motioned for Sihtric and Osferth to stay in their seats as they attempted to stand at your entrance with another Lord.

“Who’s the pretty pomp?” Sihtric asked motioning his head towards you and Eadred as you sat down at a different table alone

“That is the son of Lord Ealford of Gleawecestre.” Uhtred confirmed pouring himself a cup of ale.

“What does he want with y/n?” Sihtric probed further

“I imagine he’s looking for a wife from a noble Mercian family to strengthen his own.” Finan claimed seating himself with a clear view of your position

“Doesn’t sound like a terrible thing.”

“No, but I get the feeling he’s a turd and a half.” He grumbled pouring himself a large cup of ale

“You would think that, you let yourself get too close Finan.” Osferth jested

“Ay, what did she say to her father about a betrothal? She wants to be respected, that boy playing a man couldn’t even show respect to Uhtred, he’s not the one for her.” He kept his voice low but his frustration was evident

“We will see, but you need to remember the decision is hers and Aethelflaed’s, we’re not to get involved.” Uhtred maintained, angling his seat to keep an eye on you.

Across the room you sat opposite Eadred at a small table trying to keep your focus on him and not the irishman you could see watching the conversation from the corner of your peripheral view.

“You are quite easy on the eyes Lady y/n.” This half hearted compliment from the lord pulled your full focus to him in an instant.

“You flatter me Lord.” you responded keeping your smile coy

“I was surprised to see you in court today, how are you finding being in Aethelflaed’s company?” And there it was, his own probe into your loyalty beginning.

“The Lady Aethelflaed,” You corrected his lack of title use “Has done me a great honour, but only time will tell if it is what’s right for me.”

“Hmm, I wonder, would you say you have the trust and ear of the Lady of Mercia?”

“Yes I would.” You were confident in your conviction.

“I happen to be making headway with the king, I have visions of Gleawecestre being recognised for it’s own glory soon. A union between the two of us could be rather powerful and help achieve that vision I feel.” You decided he was either foolish or incredibly arrogant to think this.

“This is our first meeting Lord Eadred, a little soon to be speaking of a union is it not? Also I don’t recall King Edward acknowledging you, let alone speaking with you.” Even though you words could be interpreted as hurtful your tone was playful not wanting the conversation to become too serious.

He chuckled looking down at his cup and gave it a couple of taps off the table “Your reputation of being out spoken is true I see.”

“Out spoken? I am merely looking out for myself, as are you it would seem.”

Finan had noticed your change in posture causing him to pay more attention, you were no longer behaving as if it was just a polite gesture to accept the meeting but fully engaged and leaning slightly closer over the table looking at the Lord from under your lashes. He didn’t like it but he had no choice in the matter, you are always going to be a Lady of Mercia and you will have many suitors wanting to be in a union with you.

“You are staring again.”

“No Osferth, I am chaperoning.”

Sihtric snorted at the exchange and sipped at his ale with an amused look on his face. You had stood and offered Eadred another coy smile, he gave you a small bow in return and left the inn without even a glance to the table of your chaperones.

You sat yourself at the table opposite Finan with a heavy sigh and the four men watched on as you drained your cup and refilled it.

“My apologies, that wasn’t very lady-like of me.”

“No need to apologise Lady” Uhtred chuckled lightly

“Can we drop the title when it is just us please? It’s starting to send me into madness.” You fiddled with the cross at your neck and they all nodded politely at your request.

“So how was you new friend?” Finan asked, his expression a mixture of amusement and worry

“That is no friend, he is a wolf in sheep’s clothing and needs to be watched.” You uttered

“What makes you believe that?” Uhtred questioned with a small frown appearing on his face

“He is arrogant and foolish-“

“You don’t like him then?” Finan interjected looking at you over the edge of his cup causing Sihtric to clear his throat and look to Osferth.

“What? No. He is talking of a great vision for Gleawecestre to have a glory he thinks it deserves, men who talk like that think themselves worthy to be a king.” You kept your voice low to avoid anyone overhearing

“Hmm, Aethelflaed was right, men do talk when trying to impress the ladies at court. Sihtric, Osferth, you will find him see who he talks to.” Uhtred put his cup down and stood

“Yes Lord.” Sihtric stood with Osferth who sighed as they exited the inn.

“Finan, you may stay here with y/n. I will go back to the palace and talk with Aethelflaed.”

As the afternoon drifted into early evening you requested to move to a table outside to get away from some of the other rowdy patrons, it was still warm and would be light for a few more hours yet with it being summer. You sat on the same side of the bench as Finan with your backs to the wall so you could have a clear view of anyone approaching but he was more focused watching you pull your hair over your shoulder to create a loose braid.

“You missed a bit.” He took the segment of hair in his fingers and tickled your cheek with it getting a laugh from you, your brushed your hands through the lengths and started the process again.

“Did your Lord have anything else to say other than he wants glory?” He asked leaning forward and resting his arms on the table

“Other than me being easy on the eyes, he thinks a union between him and I would be a powerful one” You scoffed turning your nose up at the memory

“Jesus, he’s talking of marriage already?” Finan looked to you, with the sun hitting the side of your face lighting up your features he thought you were more than just easy on the eyes.

“Mm. It won’t happen, he lacks respect and thinks too highly of himself. Thankfully Lady Aethelflaed isn’t in any rush to be rid of me so I’m not going to be forced into something I don’t want.”

“So do you have like, y’know, set rules for who you can and can’t marry?” He wasn’t sure why he even asked, he knew what the rules are. Nobles for nobles only, unless it is a man who is able to bend the rules to have the woman he wants.

“Being the youngest of four it is easier for me to refuse a proposal, if I’m still unwed when my father comes to pass the responsibility for me should fall to my brother but if I remain a lady-in-waiting it’s Aethelflaed who gets the final say, I might not have to marry a noble or even marry at all.”

“Fancy the life of a spinster eh” He jested sitting back bumping his shoulder off yours, you laughed looking at him. These past few days were the happiest you’d been in a long time, you weren’t being treated as a decorative object with no purpose but as a real person who had value and thoughts and feelings.

The idea of being handed over to a man who only wanted to use you for his own gain hurt, especially when you find yourself sat beside one who has been nothing but kind and respectful from the moment you met. You weren’t a fool, you’ve seen how his friends watch the pair of you interact, how his posture and expression changes when he’s unsure of another mans intentions for you, and after Osferth’s comment earlier you knew it was a mutual admiration.

“y/n?” Finan spoke quietly searching your eyes, the sadness behind them was suddenly difficult to miss and he worried that maybe his words had offended you.

“You look at me as though I am pure gold.” Your voice was barely above a whisper and your cheeks flushed at the escaped thought. He released a slow breath knowing that he should divert the conversation and avoid this topic entirely but instead he found himself nodding.

“I think you deserve to be treasured.” He confessed quietly.

You were both pulled from the moment as Uhtred sat down with a huff and slapped the table to get the attention of a worker for a cup. You rubbed your thumbs against each other in your lap lost in your thoughts as he filled Finan in on what had been happening at the palace.

Next

End Notes: draaamaaaa.

Taglist: @arcielee @tssf-imagines @bcon24

[alpydk]

Eclipse (Part 3) - "Wish"

As Elminster left her home, his eyes passed over the traces of the magical essence that seemed drawn to her, a glowing around her that left his heart broken knowing what was to come; another potential that he may have to play the role in guiding, another pawn in Mystra’s games.3

Ao3 Link

She’d had her eyes on him for some time, the young boy with the natural gift of the weave flowing through his fingertips. It had been centuries or what felt like that since such a mortal had shown capabilities such as his, and for some time she gazed at him from the Outer Planes of her existence. Gale of Waterdeep; he had the potential to be magnificent, to be her chosen as Elminster and so many others had been before him.

Mystra watched as he grew from a young boy with guilt-filled tears in his eyes over burnt roses, to when he became a young man, confident and knowledgeable. Blackstaff had been the perfect proving ground for him, allowing him to be moulded into something she deemed useful, something powerful. As he conjured stars and gazed at clouds, she made plans for him, plans where he would protect the weave that he was indebted to. She gave him time to say goodbye to those around him, promises of his return before he reported to her, before she struck.

To love a goddess is what so many wished for and to be loved by one was more than most could even comprehend, but she gave it to him, nonetheless. There was no real time outside of the material plane, only the flow of energy, of their bodies wrapped together, entwined as if they were strands of the Weave itself. Days passed on Taril, but to them it was minutes, decades, centuries, or mere moments of passion and yearning. Times that she’d had before, with so many others, with Elminster, with Kelemvor, and now with young Gale.  

All these moments became the same though, it did not matter the face or the body; with time came unrest. She had given him all she wanted to and yet still he asked for more, more power, more ways to be better for her as she turned her back on him. To be immortal was both a blessing and a curse. Why would they always ask her for more?

She rolled her eyes as he begged and pleaded for her touch again. Like a small creature of Taril, he looked at her through those guilt-filled tears again and, rather than feel sympathy; she felt bothered by him. Like so many others before him, he wanted more than she was willing to hand over; such was the curse of mortals and their ambition.

“You are already enough.” Her words fell on deaf ears as again he tried to ask for her forgiveness. He had done nothing wrong; they had simply done everything they could together and now she was ready to move on, ready to find someone else who could light that dimming spark within her. It was time for Gale to carry out his duties as her chosen, just as Elminster was already doing. Elminster, with whom she had also grown bored with as time had gone by. Time that meant so little to her. Only a series of moments she was doomed to repeat.

She allowed Gale to leave, hoping that he would learn to accept his role. Love was always the worst of the mortal emotions to deal with, another experience she wished she could erase from her own story. If he was but another god, then maybe this would have turned out differently for them both. Gale was certainly ambitious enough, so possibly he could be what she wanted, be the one to keep her spark alive, but godhood would never be granted to him, no matter how much he wanted to impress her. He was just another expendable mortal.

Again, he came back, now with hypothetical situations, what-if’s she could not ignore, questions of the weave itself and its making, of history long buried and forgotten. She disregarded what he said as old mortal legends, of stories of bardic creation with no truths behind them. She would not grant him the power he wanted. He was to remain beneath her, like all others had before him. His role was as her chosen, nothing more, and he should have been satisfied with that.

Gale, though, of course, was desperate, finding the strand of Weave hidden from all mortals. She watched as he walked down the corridor, his fingers trailing over the dust covered tables, the oak door being pushed open for the first time in generations. She did not interfere as he read the book, as the shadows enveloped his body and he crumpled to the floor in agony. This is what he deserved for his misdeeds, for the greatest of all follies. He screamed, his voice one of nothing but terror as the Karsite weave tore him apart right down to his very essence.

Nothing at all was left of Mystra’s chosen, his body gone, and soul decimated. Gale Dekarios was dead, and there was no possibility of ever bringing him back.

She sighed as she turned her gaze from the closing book. Again, it would be left until another poor soul would find it; Gale was not the first, and as with all mortals, he would certainly not be the last. She sent word to Elminster, a request for a new potential, and observed the drop of his head at the news; so many centuries alive and still he felt for the ones he brought to her.

“Do as you must.” A dismissal of him from her plane of existence as she returned to watching over a projection of a future young girl who polymorphed a beast to protect another. A possible chosen amongst so many soon to be born into existence; Mystra’s magic granted and spread where needed to keep balance. She could sense a familiarity with this one though, a passing glimpse of a moment in time; just another interchangeable face of a loved chosen now gone.

---

“Do as you must.” Elminster had heard these words so many times over the years. Another family to give the news to of the loss of their son, daughter, partner. It never got easier but Gale, Gale was one he had enjoyed watching over, entering his life far sooner than he had others of Mystra’s chosen. Raising him and drinking tea with the boy’s mother. For Elminster, this one was not just another young mage with power and ambition; it was his family. He’d been given the information on what had happened. A lesson is what Mystra had called it, and he had felt the disappointment in all around him. If only he had protected Gale and dissuaded him from Mystra’s clutches, then maybe things would have been different, but there was little point in thinking over what he now wished for.

He first spoke with Morena and watched as she broke down in the only way a mother could do. A desperate keening to have her boy back in her life, a curse towards Mystra and all she stood for. He had wanted to ease her pain but knew that this was something he was unable to do, that the pain she felt was nowhere close to the ache he felt in his bones over this loss. He watched as Tara flew out of the window, most likely in search of a truth she wished she could find, and he longed to give her it; to bring Gale back, or to at least know he had found peace away from the realm of mortals.

The personnel at Blackstaff took the news with dignity, giving silent prayers to their goddess. He’d avoided conveying the exact information to them for fear it would lead to other ambitious magic users trying to retrace Gale’s steps. It was simply an unfortunate accident and one that even Mystra herself could not rectify. They arranged a small collection for Gale’s mother and planned to create a small memorial to him, most likely a painting for their grand walls.

Elminster’s last visit was the one he dreaded the most, to the other student he had watched grow up alongside Gale. She’d been a part of their lives for so many years, meeting Gale on her first day at the Academy as he had threatened to lick the frog from their alchemy class. Elminster had seen the sparks of young love immediately between them, the taunting comments, the blushes and gazes they tried to keep hidden from one another. Even when their relationship became official, he had tried to act surprised for them, asking questions about how long they had known and humouring their newfound love for one another. And yet he knew of Mystra’s demands and so he played his role as expected of him.

She didn’t react to his apologetic words; her face pale and eyes cold. Maybe on some level she already knew as he visited her home to convey what had happened. He gave the same vague explanation to her of what had occurred in the short two months since Gale had left and saw how she simply nodded before sitting down, her muscles growing exhausted against the waves of grief, the mindless turning of the amethyst engagement ring on her wedding finger. He could only give her the words he too had been given when he’d discovered his lover Ammaratha’s methods to bear him a child; “Even the waves of fate can break upon the shores of will.” Gale was lost forever, the fate of their love destroyed by the will of his ambition.

As Elminster left her home, his eyes passed over the traces of the magical essence that seemed drawn to her, a glowing around her that left his heart broken knowing what was to come; another potential that he may have to play the role in guiding, another pawn in Mystra’s games.

---

Gale woke the next morning in his tent at the campsite, his body aching and the orb craving another magic item. He tugged at the ring on his finger, pressing it to his chest and letting his body absorb the traces of the weave, hoping it would keep him going a little longer at least. I spy with my little eye… something beginning with R. Another memory he couldn’t recall: a ring being placed on a finger, tears burning in his eyes, knowing in his heart that something was not right with the moment.

He rubbed at his chest, trying to ease the dull ache that sat there, curious if it was caused by the orb or a remnant of heartbreak he hadn’t felt since Mystra. Though the artefacts were working well, this was not a permanent cure and soon he would have to come up with another solution. His year in the tower had done little to aid in his research. A year, or was it longer than that? He tried to shake off the sleep that was clearly affecting his senses; of course it had been a year. How could he even confuse it with anything else?

He thought over the night before and the sending message he hadn’t received. He had hoped for a reply and yet only restless slumber had been given to him, dreams that made little sense to him and words spoken that only confused him further. His hair lay messily over his forehead as a result and he shook it back, running his hands through it, his mind drifting to a night not long ago with Astarion, where there had been a quiet moment of pale fingertips exploring through dark tresses. Gale wondered if he should try to make things up with him, possibly pay him back by finding a way to remove the taste of the orb from his blood for a short while. If that failed, then wine was always a suitable alternative.

[q-ueen-potato]

Rising Sun/Reincarnation AU adaptation

Luffy - Nika

Zoro - Enma (at the time, he was a low-ranking demon that Nika Freed and follows out of respect and ambition.)

Nami - Njor (not related to Nika, but instead was abandoned by a different pantheon and was found by a mortal and raised as such. Nika saw potential in her and demanded she join him by Freeing her homeland)

Usopp - Antonio (a mortal prophet that Nika gave the Freedom of Speech and Truth, allowing anything said to become reality, but it's a retroactive power to the world, so it's never really noticeable)

Sanji - Troien (initially a damaged mortal from a noble family. But Nika gave him the Freedom of Movement and now is a God of Hunters and Love)

Chopper - Caeronn (an odd beast that always tried to nurture and help others, despite protests of others and not understanding what was needed. Nika granted the Freedom of Knowledge, Memory, and Reason so he could do everything he desired.)

Robin - Imu (before you get snippy, this makes more sense. Imu decided to join Nika out of personal ambition despite the others' initial protests. Nika allowed them to come along. When they betrayed the crew, Nika Freed them from Divinity and Immortality, leading them to later deception of others)

Franky - Sevvr Jetsm (a natural creator Nika clashed with a few times, granting him the Freedom of Expression. In time, he was deceived by Imu to develop the Great Weapons)

Brook - Whelpül (a Ferryman that lost his mind in isolation. Nika Freed him from the Imposed Duty to allow him to express himself. As gratitude, he became the God of Talent, ingraining skills into ones' very Souls.)

Jimbe - Blüshankl (the First Fishman. Titan of the Depths. He distorted the waves so no one could leave their place of being. Nika Freed him from Loneliness and brought forth new life.)

Law - Hostaal (one of Nika's Rivals that clashed with him because of Freedom of Life meant Freedom of Pain and Suffering. He tries to fix that. He was deceived by Imu to create the Eternal Youth Surgery)

Zuneisha - (Nika's pet elephant. Always protected Nika from Imu's feral leopard)

Okay I really love that and I don't where start so I will talk a bit of each. First of all I need say...I love your ideas and the changes are spot on so...

Zoro: Enma being a low status demon actually works better than he being a high one since start. I really want to keep the 'King of Hell' thing so making him starting from the bottom until the top on the Underwood would give even more impact to Nika's death. To Enma all he got now is because Nika was kind and now he is gone.

Nami:I can't change Njor relation with Nika because this is part of her deity character and has a great influence on this au(like how Bellemere got her and Nojiko in middle of storm). Now, about the abandonment I can see this happening too, now....even though she was Zinabi"s daughter she wasn't part of his pantheon...because she was popular and know by another people so she was part of THIS pantheon...somehow she started losing believers with let her be forgotten on the pantheon an left behind where she is taken care by humans...Nika feel her and save her and the rest is history...

Usopp: first of all, I love the name Antonio(I am Brazilian and this name is popular here so...I love it) . I can imagine the people not believing on Antonio at first just like how people didn't belived in Usopp, Nika probably would have gave his gift when Antonio was telling a story and Niks loves stories so he was there to listen and saw a man with good heart to make this world better.

Sanji: is perfection, I doesn't even know what to say just how to make this more complete...Troien was a 'broken human' to his family. He couldn't walk and his hand are always shaking, one day his father got tired and asked to drown him on the sea. Nika couldn't let this happen as he hears the pray of Troien's mother and blessed Troien freeing his legs and arms asking his grandfather(The god Mar) to guide the man to a Island...

Chopper: the monster that become a SPIRIT of protection? Yes I am in this. Every mythology has a monster and this is not different, Caeronn was a beast that some would says be merciless...but he was kind, Nika saw a creature that should bring fear just wanting to cure...he had to help

Robin: now we got the problem, I really like your interpretation of Robin as Im. I Just doesn't know how this could work? Like we still have Im in canon so would those be two different people or two halfs of the same? Would Im's actions affect how Robin see loyalty?

Franky: Sevvr Jetsan being the one to make the Great Weapons is actually brilliant and I don't know how I didn't thought on this...seriously. Also Sevvr using Nika's blessing to build something he would be against hurts...like being forced to betray a friend..(also the detail of Franky burning the blueprints...the own creator destroying something that should never exist...)

Brook: I have nothing to say about Brook, seriously...this is perfect. This summons perfectly Brook's character..also making him go through loneliness twice is sad.

Jimbe: about Jimbei's name I just need say I loved it. So...him being a kind of titan is amazing and him being responsible of the dangers of the seas is also good. But somehow I just feel the urge to give him a relation to Mar....maybe both created the sea kings? Or something like that....s

Law: let be honest, only Hostaal saw himself as Nika's rival...to Nika they are friends. Hostage having a problem to how Nika sees life is spot on, just yes..also Hostaal being forced to make the Youth Surgery....this was one for the few things Nika and him agreed...this shouldn't exist...immortality is not the answer.

Zunesha: nothing to talk about, just yes. NEED BE THAT

[lcftyambiticns]

Alright, forgive me if this is stated somewhere on your blog already but I am curious: why do you think he has such a big inferiority complex? (If you also think he has one, I think I did see it in your hc somewhere) And if you don't think that's the reason, what do you think caused him to be looking for outside admiration so much?

꧁ ℋEADCANON.

No worries and thank you sm for this ask!! <3

He has a superiority complex. But to be fair, the difference lies mainly in the symptoms and behavior, from what I understand. However, I don't want to delve too deeply into the psychology of it all.

In a nutshell, yes, the way I see it, Lorroakan harbors feelings of inferiority, which he doesn't acknowledge and copes with by overcompensating in the other direction: putting others down to elevate himself, having an exaggerated sense of self-importance, entitlement, and superiority over others.

While he claims not to care about the opinion of others, that's not entirely true. He craves admiration and worship, especially from people he deems his peers, such as city patriarchs/matriarchs, fellow wizards, etc.

Impressions matter greatly to Lorroakan, as they serve to validate his inflated ego and reinforce his (deluded) belief in his own greatness. Also... connections, you know? It's a means to elevate his social status, get support for his endeavors, influence, and so on.

It's one of the reasons Ramazith's Tower is so important to him (wealth and power aside). Lorroakan relishes in his newfound prestige within the arcane community as his (wizard) peers now flock to him, seeking access to the knowledge and artifacts that are now his. The canonical fact that he won't share any of this knowledge is very telling imo.

As for what caused this (and this is entirely my HC, though it kinda makes sense for him, doesn't it?); growing up in the Slums of Athkatla in a household with a drunk father and being the middle child of six siblings wasn't exactly a great start.

Imagine growing up dirt poor in one of the most wealthy cities in Faerûn, while you have nothing and feel like a second-class citizen. You catch glimpses of that wealth almost daily, yet it remains just out of reach. This sucks. But I also think this really stoked his ambition. I want to live like this one day.

Aside from that, his family life wasn't great. His father was a mean drunk who mocked Lorroakan's ambitions to become a wizard and make something of his life, because a) It's forbidden and you're going to get us in trouble and b) Just accept the harsh truth that you're a poor wretch like the rest of us, and you'll never amount to anything.

His father was miserable and seemed intent on spreading that misery to everyone around him. It's easier to wallow in self-pity than to actually try and fight for something, which is precisely why Lorroakan has zero tolerance for it. Except when it comes to his own, naturally. He is allowed to whine as much as he wants, HOWEVER he is a fighter, a hustler, amibtious af and when he's done whining, he'll adjust his crown and get off his ass. Anyway.

Then there was his older sister, a sorceress, the only one in their family. She wasn't allowed to practice magic either, of course, but Lorroakan's family respected her a lot more simply because she was "gifted". She could easily do what Lorroakan had to study hard for, and she belittled him for it. A lot. She also got a lot of attention. Lorroakan didn't get much attention at all unless he was being told off for getting in trouble.

Phew. That's a long read :,)))

[creatorofstarrealm]

So here is my idea of Mk1 Chameleon. What if we made him the villain.

In the new timeline Chameleon is a Saurian dragon hybrid that has access to unlimited power. He's been around for a few thousands years and only gained royal status by marrying Queen Sytholin. Making him the ruler of Zaterra. He was one of first being to discover shapeshifting and wanted to kept this knowledge to himself. So he's been killing saurians who can also shapeshift. Claiming the art to be hersey despite knowing shapeshifting himself.

When King Jerrod become suspicious, Chameleon orchestrated Jerrod's assassination by conspiring with the Umgadi. With the King caught off guard Chameleon murdered King Jerrod and disappeared before anyone noticed he was there.

Khameleon is his daughter and he sent her to be trained by the Umgadi. Likely part of a secret mission. But lately Khamelon has started to question her father's ambitions.

With Empress Mileena in charge, Syzoth was sent as her emissary. With Syzoth as a another known shapeshifter, Emperor Chamelon keeps a watchful eye on him. He may have dispose of him in the future, but for now Syzoth could prove to be useful. As for Jerrod and Sindel, once they have full control over Ermac they plan to find Chameleon and kill him.

As tension begins to rise within the realms Chameleon plans start to take shape. General Shao plans to free Onaga. Use the Gem of Tetsurri to steal Onaga. Orderrealm destoryed. A realm left defenceless. A new inexperience ruler of Outworld. Find her weaknesses and dethrone her. Shang Tsung find a island of untapped potential. Find the sorcerer and offer aid. His true goals are unknown and that what terrifies the realms.

Especially Lord Liu Kang who has no idea how Chameleon gain such power. However he believes it has something to do with Onaga's absence in the power ring. Fearing that one day Chameleon might rise up to become the new Dragon King.

If Empress Mileena ever find out the truth she will mark all Suarians as her enemies and she will declare war on Zaterra.

Evil Chameleon is inspired by this reddit comment.

[docgold13]

Profiles in Villainy

Rasputin

The mad monk and malevolent mystic known as Grigori Rasputin had previously been a spiritual advisor to the royal Russian family. Cunning an ambitious, Rasputin’s ambitions to destroy the Russian monarchy was found out and the monk was banished by Tzar Nicholas Romanov II.  

Using his knowledge of the black magical arts, Rasputin sold his soul to a demon in exchange for the supernatural abilities needed to gain deadly revenge on Tzar Nicholas and his family.  Now a lich (a type of undead ghoul possessing magical powers), he enacted the ‘Romanov Curse,’ resulting in the deaths of nearly all of the Romanov family; save for the youngest daughter, Anastasia, who managed to escape.  

Rasputin’s familiar, the bat named Bartok discovered that young Anastasia was still alive and reported back to his master.  Upon learning of Anastasia’s survival, Rasputin endeavored on a diabolical scheme to do in the last surviving Romanov.  

Now a teenager and unaware of her true origins, Anastasia managed to evade Rasputin’s deadly efforts.  She discovers the truth about herself and was finally able to defeat Rasputin.  With the aide of Bartok, Anastasia was able to destroy the villain’s reliquary.  This acted to release the demons who originally imbued the monk with his powers.  Angered over Rasputin’s failure, the demons collected his soul and dragged the villain into hell.  

Although Anastasia was able to survive and went on to live a full life of her own, Rasputin’s actions ultimately resulted in the fall of the Russian monarchy and the rise of the Soviet Union.  

Actor Christopher Lloyd provided the voice for the mad monk (with Jim Cummings in the singing sections).  This iteration of Rasputin first appeared in the 1997 animated feature, Anastasia.  

[strangerwheelerthings]

I know Hogwarts Houses are not the thing to do anymore, but I came across someone who called Nancy Wheeler a Slytherin, and my brain wouldn't rest until I figured out what she would actually be.

It's not that Slytherin wouldn't be a logical choice in some ways. Nancy certainly has a strong desire to prove herself and plenty of ambition. However, those things are not what drive her, what motivate her.

Nancy would think that she's a Ravenclaw. She highly values truth and knowledge, but it's a means to an end for her. It's not the end goal itself. Knowledge is important to her because of what it gives her, the power and ability to act, and to make a difference.

She is highly like Hermione in this way, but therein lies my reasoning for ultimately choosing Gryffindor. Nancy, for all her intelligence, can be the most reckless, dunderheaded ball of loyalty and courage in the world. She can be a straight-up battering ram when rules she usually respects get in her way. Her motivation ultimately ends up being centered on justice and protectiveness.

Her ambition comes from a desire to be someone who can make a difference in the world; who can be seen for who she actually is, but also just because she cares. She wants to help people, and she'll use any means she can think of to do so (legal or not, lol)

[haggishlyhagging]

Media critic Jennifer L. Pozner has spent thousands of hours and an immense amount of patience watching both cable news and reality television, and understands better than the average person how alike they've become. "We treat stories that we would have never treated as journalism twenty years ago like headline news," she muses. And we treat reality TV the same way. More relevant to feminism, however, is how the reality genre has harnessed the belief in a postfeminist world and, in doing so, reframed retrograde gender dynamics as expressions of freedom and empowerment. Far more than any backlash could have predicted, the feminist rhetoric of individuality, opportunity, autonomy, and choice has been co-opted by a consumer media that has very non-ulterior motives for presenting women as willingly sexualized, hyperfeminine ciphers.

In Pozner's 2010 book Reality Bites Back: The Troubling Truth About Guilty-Pleasure Television, she asserts that one of the most jarring features of reality TV is the way it urges its female participants—and often, the women and girls who watch them—toward narrower and narrower definitions of beauty, self-worth, and success, as well as a truncated sense of what kind of life is possible and desirable, all while encouraging them to see other women only in terms of competition and comparison. But "reality" functions as a magic shield against accusations of racist and sexist cliché and regressive storylines: producer and participants alike will reason that if you put twenty-five women in a room with a man they barely know, of course the evening will end with the women sobbing, yelling, yanking each other's hair extensions out, calling each other sluts, and drunkenly slurring, "We're meant to be together" to floor lamps. Reality TV is part of an ongoing narrative of postfeminism that, like Wonderbra billboards once did, assures women that feminism has granted them the power and the freedom to be whatever they want to be. And if what they want to be just so happens to conform to a smorgasbord of insecure, catty, vapid, and villainous stereotypes that even Walt Disney's frozen head would reject as too cartoonish, who's to say that's not empowering?

Let's take The Bachelor because, since it's one of the highest-rated network shows for more than a decade, we kind of have to. Since its debut in 2002, ABC's reality flagship has drawn in advertisers' favorite cash-cow demographic, women 18-34, by the millions, and has served as a barometer of how young, heterosexual, and mostly white women are encouraged to alter their ambitions, personalities, and behaviors to compete in the dating market. The show, mused media critic Susan J. Douglas when it premiered, "offers highly normative female ‘types’ into which most women allegedly fall ... urged to place themselves on a post-feminist scale of femininity to determine how far they have to go to please men without losing all shreds of their own identity and dignity. In the process, young women calibrate, for better and for worse, what kind of female traits are most likely to ensure success in a male-dominated world." For twenty seasons, the series has confirmed centuries' worth of entrenched beliefs about what women want (marriage, money, the knowledge that they've beaten out masses of other women for the a man they barely know), and what men seek (a thin, deferential woman who's only as ambitious as she needs to be to bag a husband).

-Andi Zeisler, We Were Feminists Once

[rockislandadultreads]

Book Recommendations: Dark Academia

Long Black Veil by Jennifer Finney Boylan

Long Black Veil is the story of Judith Carrigan, whose past is dredged up when the body of her college friend Wailer is discovered 20 years after her disappearance in Philadelphia’s notorious and abandoned Eastern State Penitentiary. Judith is the only witness who can testify to the innocence of her friend Casey, who had married Wailer only days before her death.

The only problem is that on that fateful night at the prison, Judith was a very different person from the woman she is today. In order to defend her old friend and uncover the truth of Wailer’s death, Judith must confront long-held and hard-won secrets that could cause her to lose the idyllic life she’s built for herself and her family.

Babel by R.F. Kuang

Traduttore, traditore: An act of translation is always an act of betrayal.

1828. Robin Swift, orphaned by cholera in Canton, is brought to London by the mysterious Professor Lovell. There, he trains for years in Latin, Ancient Greek, and Chinese, all in preparation for the day he'll enroll in Oxford University's prestigious Royal Institute of Translation - also known as Babel.

Babel is the world's center of translation and, more importantly, of silver-working: the art of manifesting the meaning lost in translation through enchanted silver bars, to magical effect. Silver-working has made the British Empire unparalleled in power, and Babel's research in foreign languages serves the Empire's quest to colonize everything it encounters.

Oxford, the city of dreaming spires, is a fairytale for Robin; a utopia dedicated to the pursuit of knowledge. But knowledge serves power, and for Robin, a Chinese boy raised in Britain, serving Babel inevitably means betraying his motherland. As his studies progress Robin finds himself caught between Babel and the shadowy Hermes Society, an organization dedicated to sabotaging the silver-working that supports imperial expansion. When Britain pursues an unjust war with China over silver and opium, Robin must decide: Can powerful institutions be changed from within, or does revolution always require violence? What is he willing to sacrifice to bring Babel down?

Babel - a thematic response to The Secret History and a tonal response to Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell - grapples with student revolutions, colonial resistance, and the use of translation as a tool of empire.

The Cloisters by Kathy Hays

When Ann Stilwell arrives in New York City, she expects to spend her summer working as a curatorial associate at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Instead, she finds herself assigned to The Cloisters, a gothic museum and garden renowned for its medieval art collection and its group of enigmatic researchers studying the history of divination.

Desperate to escape her painful past, Ann is happy to indulge the researchers’ more outlandish theories about the history of fortune telling. But what begins as academic curiosity quickly turns into obsession when Ann discovers a hidden 15th-century deck of tarot cards that might hold the key to predicting the future. When the dangerous game of power, seduction, and ambition at The Cloisters turns deadly, Ann becomes locked in a race for answers as the line between the arcane and the modern blurs.

A haunting and magical blend of genres, The Cloisters is a gripping debut that will keep you on the edge of your seat.

Ninth House by Leigh Bardugo

Galaxy “Alex” Stern is the most unlikely member of Yale’s freshman class. Raised in the Los Angeles hinterlands by a hippie mom, Alex dropped out of school early and into a world of shady drug dealer boyfriends, dead-end jobs, and much, much worse. By age twenty, in fact, she is the sole survivor of a horrific, unsolved multiple homicide. Some might say she’s thrown her life away. But at her hospital bed, Alex is offered a second chance: to attend one of the world’s most elite universities on a full ride. What’s the catch, and why her?

Still searching for answers to this herself, Alex arrives in New Haven tasked by her mysterious benefactors with monitoring the activities of Yale’s secret societies. These eight windowless “tombs” are well-known to be haunts of the future rich and powerful, from high-ranking politicos to Wall Street and Hollywood’s biggest players. But their occult activities are revealed to be more sinister and more extraordinary than any paranoid imagination might conceive.

This is the first volume in the “Alex Stern” series. A highly anticipated sequel, Hell Bent, is expected early next year. 

[tev-the-random]

Emptober Day 1 - Trinket

Fwhip had his flaws, that was undeniable. But he was also, under the doubt of no one, the kind of person who saw some sort of value in everything. Where there were possibilities, there was opportunity, and where there was trash, there was treasure.

It had started with toys.

The young heir of Grimlands was known by the staff of the mansion to be a horribly careless child. Anything he touched, he broke. However, it was never a matter of clumsiness, as most thought, but rather, curiosity: if he had a toy train, he would take it apart to see what made it move; if someone gave the twins a doll, he would dismember it to see how the joints were connected; if his sister was gifted a plushie, he would find a way to pull it apart at the seams to see what was inside. Nothing was safe within his reach.

When eventually Fwhip learned to be more considerate of his sister’s possessions, Gem had already moved on to entertaining herself with books. Her brother’s reputation as a trouble child was established, and he would only grow to earn it as the years went by. Though sometimes Gem hoped he would get in trouble, deep down she was fascinated whenever he came back to her with his discoveries.

-

It was around the time Fwhip had discovered redstone that Gem discovered magic.

At first, their learning experience was ridden with issues: while Gemini would find her powers going out of control and set fire to her curtains at least once a week, Fwhip would more often than not create giant messes of red dust that didn’t actually do anything. But while she was a sponge of knowledge, he was a tinkerer at heart, and slowly but surely, they balanced each other out. He helped her make tools that would stabilize her spells or, at the very least, do damage control, which he was no stranger to. She helped him keep track of his work and find new obscure sources and tips on the matter of redstone.

Fwhip’s toys no longer interested him as a whole. Their parts, however, were always useful. Soon he would find himself getting his hands on old clocks, broken pistons, jammed dispensers and silent jukeboxes for their functioning pieces, and an ever-growing collection started to be hoarded. Everything could be taken apart and put together as something else, something new.

As the twins became masters of their craft, the Grimlands became their canvas. The two of them tried to solve every single problem in the most extravagant ways, and all it took for them to get banned from the forge entirely was just a little bit of creativity and constant bickering about the right way to do things. Whatever trouble they could get into, whatever responsibilities they could avoid, they did, and they covered for each other just as much as they laughed at their own mistakes. Or at least, Fwhip did.

When gunpowder was introduced to his arsenal of materials, Fwhip quickly became used to experiments exploding in his face. If anything, he liked setting things on fire and relished in his errors. Gem, on the other hand, took her role as the responsible sibling seriously. More and more often she would lecture her brother on the dangers of his recklessness, and the time she spent in her room or in the library would only increase. The truth was, magic was a volatile and dangerous thing. Though her own dignity kept her from saying it out loud, Gem greatly feared endangering others if her technique was anything less than perfect, if she was anything other than wise.

Fwhip thought she worried too much. Once again, they balanced each other out, for he was the calm and the chaos to her anxiety and her focus, respectively. Much like two cogs in a big machine, they naturally moved one another.

But as the end of their teenage years steadily approached, those gears found themselves trying to spin in contrasting directions.

Fwhip had plans for their empire. Though he never thought of himself as much of a ruler, he had the rising ambition to make the Grimlands the most advanced nation in the continent. His once childish dreams had flourished into the knowledge that his home had just as much potential as he did. The possibilities were endless, and so were his ideas.

Gem, on the other hand, knew her destiny was elsewhere. Her homeland had its own magic, to be sure, but it definitely wasn’t known for it; there had been no native wizards for generations. She had the growing feeling of being stuck in a cage, kept away from so many wonders. The source of all the crystals they imported, the magical creatures that couldn’t withstand the bustling society of the Grimlands, her own space to let her magic lose, all of that could be just over the mountains. Gem had a talent, and she knew that if she were to pursue it, to become a proper wizard, she would have to leave her life, her family and her future throne behind.

It didn’t take long for Fwhip to notice his sister’s pensiveness, and no longer for him to figure out the reason. He didn’t blame her. But maybe there was something he could do.

-

‘Hey, Gem? Can you help me with something real quick?’

She considered responding with “no, I’m busy” and closing the door on his face. But there was something about his eagerness that made her sigh and agree to follow him instead.

Unlike Fwhip, she hadn’t intruded her sibling’s personal space in years, and she was glad she didn’t; his bedroom was an absolute nightmare. All sorts of schematics and blueprints filled the walls and littered the floor. Bits and pieces of machinery were scattered all around the spacious room, as well as dead potted flowers, copper cables, broken arrows and one too many sticks of TNT. A light coat of redstone dust seemed to cover everything.

‘How do you live like this?’

‘It’s called organised chaos, Gem.’ And indeed, like someone who knew exactly how to manoeuvre around the mess, Fwhip entered the room with ease.

‘You should really get yourself a workshop to put all of this stuff.’ Gem followed, walking on the tip of her toes to avoid stepping on anything important. ‘You shouldn’t sleep on top of all of this junk.’

‘Hey, it’s not junk! These are my things, thank you very much’ Fwhip said in the most dignified manner. He started going through his drawers as he continued. ‘Anyway, you said you might be studying abroad next year, right? You were trying to convince dad or something.’

‘Yeah... I could really use some field experience, and there are some great wizards in Rivendell. Dad says it might be good for our external relations, so there is a possibility.’

‘Ugh, it’s always business with you two.’ Finally, the tinkerer pulled a small bag from the dark void that were his possessions. It chimed quietly when he shook it.

‘Look, if you don’t actually need me for anything, I’ll go back to-’

‘No no no, come here!’

As Gem approached, Fwhip pushed all the materials that were on top of his desk onto the floor, gaining some space to empty the bag. Its contents sparkled under the beam of sunlight that was coming through the window, though it didn’t shine as much as the young wizard’s eyes.

‘Wha- how did you get these?’ Her voice was a mix of reprimand, curiosity and sheer delight. She carefully picked up one of the polished pieces of amethyst and rolled it around in her hands, feeling the smallest tingle of magic within it.

Fwhip gave her a cocky smile. ‘I have my ways.’ Mimicking his sister, he inspected one of the stones, his brain already drawing all sorts of schemes. ‘You know, I just thought that maybe you could get used to staring at shiny rocks all day, if you’re gonna be a wizard. Besides, we’re neighbours with the Crystal Cliffs, it’d be a waste if all this amethyst got turned into some boring jewellery when we can make something much cooler out of it.’

‘What did you have in mind?’

-

The twins hadn’t spent so much time together in months. Fwhip made the compromise to put some of his things away so they would have space to work. The sun had reached its peak by the time they actually started, and by the time they finished, the moon had already taken its place high in the sky.

While Gem carved sigils, Fwhip broke up pieces of redstone and lapis lazuli. While he tightened screws, she elaborated a concoction in the single-bottle brewing stand he had left on his bedside table. And while she charged and assembled her new shards of amethyst, he wired the system.

If you asked them what they were trying to do, they would only say it was meant to be something beautiful. Something chemical, electrical, magical, something only the two of them would ever think of doing. But of course, their scientific piece of art would never see the light of day: it blew up as soon as they pressed a button.

They screamed.

The tinkerer was glad he had opened his window; whatever it was that Gem had used to fuel their device made it hard to breathe. His sister, on the other hand, was more preoccupied with putting out her hair — after that, she made the mental note to always tie it back when she was working.

‘Oh, that was a disaster,’ Fwhip cried once the smoke started to dissipate. ‘You ok? Gem?’

The wizard didn’t speak for a moment. The tips of her hair were scorched, her face and clothes covered in soot and redstone; she had slightly less eyebrows now than she did when they started, which Fwhip was sure was his case as well. He waited for her to yell at him.

She laughed.

‘Ok, maybe next time we should try something a little less extreme. Oh my goodness...’ She brushed the dust off her blouse, coughing as she laughed at their ridicule. It was easier to do so when there was no one else around to see it. ‘Are you ok?’

‘Yeah, I’m... I’m pretty used to it,’ Fwhip chuckled back at her. ‘First time I’ve seen the fire go purple, though.’

Both of them stared at the now cracked shards of amethyst, which were engulfed in magical lilac flames. As the fire quickly died, Gem reached for one of them; they were freezing cold to the touch, which only increased her interest. This was her first proper, independent magic experiment outside of basic enchanting table stuff.

‘What a shame. I almost thought it would work.’ The young lord picked up a shard of glass from the now destroyed contraption. ‘I see this as a valuable experience, though. If we find out what went wrong, we can try again. I don’t really know much about magic properties, maybe we just overpowered it-’

‘I think I’m good for tonight. Thanks anyway, Fwhip.’ Gem smiled softly. ‘For the amethyst, that it. It was a nice way to spend the day.’

‘You’re saying you like to spend time with me?’ Her brother said in a mocking hopeful tone. She rolled her eyes.

‘Sure. Just don’t get used to it.’

-

‘Hey, Sausage. Can you pass me a wrench, please? There should be one in one of my pockets over there.’

The current count of Grimlands was a very busy man. Whenever he wasn’t upstairs implementing all sorts of improvements to his kingdom, making sure his citizens had everything they needed, or playing much needed pranks on his fellow rulers, he was down here, tinkering away in his workshop.

Though he usually did so alone, today King Sausage had decided to drop by for no reason other than to pester him — affectionately. Well, if he’s going to stick around, he might as well help.

‘Uhhh, what’s this?’

The king of Mythland rummaged trough the pockets of Fwhip’s coat, looking for that wrench when he came by quite the peculiar object. A bent, thin copper wire stringed together a broken amethyst shard and small piece of lapis. It was stained with very old spots of redstone dust. He knew his ally to be quite the hoarder, but this seemed like an odd thing to keep in your pocket.

Fwhip looked away from the salmon tank he was currently screwing to his newest machine and squinted at Sausage, trying to identify what he was holding.

‘Oh, it’s just an old trinket.’ he said.

‘Ah, ok then. Do you want me to throw it away?’

‘Nope. Just put it back where you found it.’

Sausage abided. ‘Is it a lucky charm?’ His voice betrayed his curiosity. He found the tool he was looking for and handed it over.

‘Well, I wouldn’t say it’s lucky,’ Fwhip chortled. ‘It’s a reminder of that time Gem messed up a spell in my room and blew things up. Good times.’

‘You mean we messed up a spell in your room,’ was what announced Gem’s arrival at the secret door to the workshop. ‘The fuel leaking was your fault.’

‘Eh, same difference.’

She rolled her eyes. Sausage barely got a wave or a greeting before the Great Wizard started to go on a rant about Fwhip planting TNT in Jimmy’s base again. Not that he paid attention to it — surprisingly not because he thought Jimmy deserved it, which he did, but because something else caught his eye.

Huh. He never noticed how the tiny amethyst that made Gem’s earring was cracked, nor the awkward way it was stringed to a little piece of lapis, despite how often she wore it.

And here he thought she wasn’t one to collect trinkets.

[cookingwithroxy]

On The Gentleman Mage

For those who have taken observation of my beauties, it becomes rather blatant that the profile on one 'Gentleman Mage' is, in truth, more about the man who came before her. Oh, there are truths there, of course. But they are mainly to be found in HIS notes about what she might be, rather than an actual account of her history.

There is a mystery in this, and often mysteries are far better than open truths. In fact, in comparison to his story, her own is... somewhat truncated. Not because her activities are not that much of note, but rather because much of her history... Is one of captivity.

For in truth, she spent centuries imprisoned, sealed away by one of the people she'd trusted the most. But even in saying that, I'm getting ahead of things. And things do start well before that, when she was just a spirit. A spirit of one small, relatively unimportant island in the Northern Atlantic.

For that was a time where gods were also of locations, not just obscure aspects. One could meet a god of a mountain, or the goddess of a river. Their powers tied to the land, and defined by that land. Limited things, but notable within their terrain.

But. Rather than digress to those gods, one should focus on the one, often misunderstood. No child of Poseidon, for a name is just a name, regardless of myths. Albion, the spirit of the land, who lived alongside the Fae and the humans who lived on her shores.

But being only a being of the land, her power was restrained to her land, and restrained to those things the land could do. Priests and druids came for her help, chieftains for her blessings, but never in person. Always to the land, for she was not a thing of bodies, only ever the spirit of the place.

But one of those who came to pray was wise, and willing to learn. To learn of the nature of the unseen world, and pick at it's mysteries. He would, in time, be known to men as Merlin. He came to her with requests and for help, as did those he trusted. And the world was a dark and dangerous place, so often she would give out blessings, or items. Weapons for men, to push back the threats that walked the world.

But as is far too often, just blessings and items are not enough. Even if the ambition is not a personal one, the ambitions of men are very real, and often without much consideration of others.

There was a chief, who wanted to unite the land. To push back against the darkness, and unite the island. There was Merlin, hoping for the golden future that may yet come. There were weapons forged by the land, a link to her strength. And there was a choice, if one was willing to abandon old promises.

Merlin was willing to dare.

What happened that day was... unkind. Merlin's ambitions were great, to tie the power of the land to the Chieftain, to make a King of him, and thus allow him the strength to rule unquestioned.

There was her retaliation, to seal Merlin in the living rock, until even his spirit was dead, dead dead. Unable to direct the power being taken from the imprisoned spirit.

And there was the spell, that bound Albion (as it is fair to call her such) to the kingdoms of her land. To the people of it. And so, as invaders came, those things they brought with, she kept. As kingdoms rose, her 'reach' grew, even if she could not be free to enjoy it.

As days changed, she changed. As England grew, she grew. As the Empire formed, she was part of it, of EVERYTHING that came from, or became part of, that kingdom was hers.

Albion slept, dreaming of freedom, her power growing by the year. But she could not, would not be free, until one thing happened.

Until the last of that bloodline either died, or freed her.

Not Merlin's, but the Chieftain her power had been bound to.

Until, one day, the most recent descendant of Arthur, son of Uther, looked for his family's secrets, to find his way to rebel against a world that offered him little and a family that only owned too much unearned pride. And a deal was struck. Knowledge of Magic, in return for oaths that he expected not to need to fulfill. As long as his family died (something he'd be glad to arrange) and he had no children (Not a thing he wished for) all she would need is to await his death for her freedom. Or for a newborn child of his blood to be host for her unending soul.

In the end, he chose the latter. But that story, and others, can wait for another day.

[tunaafishyy]

Deshret, through the Goddess of Flower’s sacrifice of herself and the oasis, is able to learn the secrets of the elixir of life... the key to breaking the shackles of the material world.

The Goddess of Flowers, in her role as the goddess of dreams, was able to act as a bridge between the mortal (material) and the divine.

Dream images (phantasms) are created by the perception of the material world, and allow for transition/connection to the divine through phantasia. The process is doable due to her “divine sacrifice creating the bridge to salvation” (higher knowledge).

However, creating the bridge is not the only thing required, since it’s creation is useless if someone does not become saved (learn the truth of ascension, which luckily Deshret is able to do through pure willpower.

Deshret returns to the mortal realm. Using the dreams of the sacrificed, the dissolved material of the sky, the divine nail, and the gold stones deep within the earth he creates his mirror of the divine, his illusory paradise. The only difference between his illusion and that of the material realm os that he is the ultimate authority in his bubble… the determiner of fate. The laws are his to define.

[The Unified Civilization, but Deshret]

Now that the formula for the elixir of immortality is known, the only thing left to do is churn it through the dreams of mortals. In truth, the mortals are giants. Nephilim. The long-lived half-god off-spring spawned from the Watchers (most likely Deshret).

One of his divine envoys, Liloupar, finds the person she believes is capable of being Deshret’s proxy, Ormazd. With the help of Liloupar and the Jinn, he rebuilds the Eternal Oasis, and swears to protect it.

And that is where things begin to go wrong. Ormazd, consumed by power and ambition, cares not for the people coming under his rule. He becomes a tyrant like those before him.

[The Anger of the Divine Envoys]

Liloupar, disgusted by her mortal lover’s transgressions decides to punish him for 3 generations. Their daughter Shirin is a curse in waiting, as is her future husband who is unknowningly also her half-brother, Kisra.

Strange… the divine envoys of the primordial one were also angered by human arrogance…

Kisra appears at first as a boon to Ormazd’s campaign to unite the 99 brass and mortar cities across the desert. Invincible. Hero. The Spirit of Victory. Ormazd adopts him and offers his daughter Shirin’s hand and marriage… a meer orphan risen to the pinnacle of royalty.

But what are the chances of Kisra and Shirin ever ruling when there are 300 other children of Ormazd?

Pretty high when Liloupar plots them all to be murdered.

Through an accidental delivery by Shirin of the poisoned honeyed… the nectar of the gods and truth corrupted through her mother’s insidious plot… Ormazd and all 300 of his children are slain.

And thus does Kisra rule.

Kisra’s corruption was almost immediate, if not long in the making. Like a seed waiting for the right moment to sprout.

Liloupar teaches him the forbidden knowledge of the skies. Of the machines and their power. How to infuse the Jinn into them.

In the darkness of dreams, she teaches him of a machine to eat dreams to create an infinite deluge of objects. A machine he is more than happy to create, and is more than willing to further break the mind of Shirin for to get her distorted jinn creations to use as fodder.

Oh, Sophia…

[Arrival of the Apocalypse]

The abyss has truly taken root in Deshret’s illusory realm, but it isn’t until the battle escalates beyond control that the corruption gains Deshret’s attention. Kisra has turned into a dark monster, likely from the assassination by his son, Shiruyeh. The city is drowning in blood and slaughter until it’s swallowed by the abyss, and Liloupar basks in her success.

[Elemental Balancing]

Deshret, furious at her actions, splits her soul into 7 parts, spread out across 7 points to align with the elements. An attempt to combat the destructive power of the abyss by spreading out the karmic seeds across elemental points.

Which almost works. (Kind of like the archon war maybe almost worked).

Except forbidden knowledge has already permeated the dreams of the realm. The samsara begins, and the sins repeat like the reflections of a shattered mirror. The details change, but their fates are the same, their sins unchangeable. They are a permanent reflection of corrupted human ambition, jinn vengeance, and abyssal poison.

The elixir of immortality could not be created through Deshret’s realm. The Amrita formed through the ocean of dreams, the key to breaking the shackles of the world, forever out of reach.

But he can’t let the poison spawned from his actions, the poison he “accidentally consumed”, spread outside of his illusion.

With the help of Rukkhadevata, he sacrifices himself. Destroying the spread of forbidden knowledge, and sinking his dream beneath the sand forever.

… or so we’re told…

The End… for now

This is a very rough draft hc on Deshret’s realm mimicking the failures of the primordial one (unified -> divine envoy -> destruction -> 7 cities -> destruction -> the primordial one is gone), so don’t take it too seriously . Also I’ll edit it multiple times so yeah.

Based on combo-ing ideas for:

“Alistor, or The Spirit of Solitude” poem ; amrita ; eternal recurrence ; Plato’s theory of forms ; philosophical view of phantasms ; Gnostic concepts ; vibro-crystal harmonics ; and uh… probably other stuff I don’t feel like linking anymore I’m lazy